readings on fascism and national socialism selected by members of the department of philosophy, university of colorado alan swallow denver prefatory note the ensuing readings are presented to encourage the student to clarify his thinking on social philosophy. he will accordingly need to determine whether the readings contain a more or less coherent body of ideas which constitutes a social philosophy. he will also need to raise the more far-reaching question whether the ideas are acceptable. to arrive at any satisfactory answer to this latter question, he will necessarily have to compare the ideas of fascism and their practical meanings with the alternatives, real and ideal, that are the substance of live philosophical issues. contents the doctrine of fascism by benito mussolini the political doctrine of fascism by alfredo rocco the philosophic basis of fascism by giovanni gentile national socialism by raymond e. murphy, francis b. stevens, howard trivers, joseph m. roland national-socialism and medicine by dr. f. hamburger selected bibliography the doctrine of fascism by benito mussolini from the encyclopedia italiana. vol. xiv the english translation of the "fundamental ideas" is by mr. i.s. munro, reprinted by his kind permission from "fascism to world-power" (alexander maclehose, london, ). fundamental ideas. . philosophic conception. like every concrete political conception, fascism is thought and action. it is action with an inherent doctrine which, arising out of a given system of historic forces, is inserted in it and works on it from within. it has therefore a form co-related to the contingencies of time and place; but it has at the same time an ideal content which elevates it into a formula of truth in the higher region of the history of thought. there is no way of exercising a spiritual influence on the things of the world by means of a human will-power commanding the wills of others, without first having a clear conception of the particular and transient reality on which the will-power must act, and without also having a clear conception of the universal and permanent reality in which the particular and transient reality has its life and being. to know men we must have a knowledge of man; and to have a knowledge of man we must know the reality of things and their laws. there can be no conception of a state which is not fundamentally a conception of life. it is a philosophy or intuition, a system of ideas which evolves itself into a system of logical contraction, or which concentrates itself in a vision or in a faith, but which is always, at least virtually, an organic conception of the world. . spiritualised conception. fascism would therefore not be understood in many of its manifestations (as, for example, in its organisations of the party, its system of education, its discipline) were it not considered in the light of its general view of life. a spiritualised view. to fascism the world is not this material world which appears on the surface, in which man is an individual separated from all other men, standing by himself and subject to a natural law which instinctively impels him to lead a life of momentary and egoistic pleasure. in fascism man is an individual who is the nation and the country. he is this by a moral law which embraces and binds together individuals and generations in an established tradition and mission, a moral law which suppresses the instinct to lead a life confined to a brief cycle of pleasure in order, instead, to replace it within the orbit of duty in a superior conception of life, free from the limits of time and space a life in which the individual by self-abnegation and by the sacrifice of his particular interests, even by death, realises the entirely spiritual existence in which his value as a man consists. . positive conception of life as a struggle. it is therefore a spiritual conception, itself also a result of the general reaction of the century against the languid and materialistic positivism of the eighteenth century. anti-positivist, but positive: neither sceptical nor agnostic, neither pessimistic nor passively optimistic, as are in general the doctrines (all of them negative) which place the centre of life outside of man, who by his free will can and should create his own world for himself. fascism wants a man to be active and to be absorbed in action with all his energies; it wants him to have a manly consciousness of the difficulties that exist and to be ready to face them. it conceives life as a struggle, thinking that it is the duty of man to conquer that life which is really worthy of him: creating in the first place within himself the (physical, moral, intellectual) instrument with which to build it. as for the individual, so for the nation, so for mankind. hence the high value of culture in all its forms (art, religion, science) and the supreme importance of education. hence also the essential value of labour, with which man conquers nature and creates the human world (economic, political, moral, intellectual). . ethical conception. this positive conception of life is evidently an ethical conception. and it comprises the whole reality as well as the human activity which domineers it. no action is to be removed from the moral sense; nothing is to be in the world that is divested of the importance which belongs to it in respect of moral aims. life, therefore, as the fascist conceives it, is serious, austere, religious; entirely balanced in a world sustained by the moral and responsible forces of the spirit. the fascist disdains the "easy" life. . religious conception. fascism is a religious conception in which man is considered to be in the powerful grip of a superior law, with an objective will which transcends the particular individual and elevates him into a fully conscious member of a spiritual society. anyone who has stopped short at the mere consideration of opportunism in the religious policy of the fascist regime, has failed to understand that fascism, besides being a system of government, is also a system of thought. . historical and realist conception. fascism is an historical conception in which man could not be what he is without being a factor in the spiritual process to which he contributes, either in the family sphere or in the social sphere, in the nation or in history in general to which all nations contribute. hence is derived the great importance of tradition in the records, language, customs and rules of human society. man without a part in history is nothing. for this reason fascism is opposed to all the abstractions of an individualistic character based upon materialism typical of the eighteenth century; and it is opposed to all the jacobin innovations and utopias. it does not believe in the possibility of "happiness" on earth as conceived by the literature of the economists of the seventeenth century; it therefore spurns all the teleological conceptions of final causes through which, at a given period of history, a final systematisation of the human race would take place. such theories only mean placing oneself outside real history and life, which is a continual ebb and flow and process of realisations. politically speaking, fascism aims at being a realistic doctrine; in its practice it aspired to solve only the problems which present themselves of their own accord in the process of history, and which of themselves find or suggest their own solution. to have the effect of action among men, it is necessary to enter into the process of reality and to master the forces actually at work. . the individual and liberty. anti-individualistic, the fascist conception is for the state; it is for the individual only in so far as he coincides with the state, universal consciousness and will of man in his historic existence. it is opposed to the classic liberalism which arose out of the need of reaction against absolutism, and had accomplished its mission in history when the state itself had become transformed in the popular will and consciousness. liberalism denied the state in the interests of the particular individual; fascism reaffirms the state as the only true expression of the individual. and if liberty is to be the attribute of the real man, and not of the scarecrow invented by the individualistic liberalism, then fascism is for liberty. it is for the only kind of liberty that is serious--the liberty of the state and of the individual in the state. because, for the fascist, all is comprised in the state and nothing spiritual or human exists--much less has any value--outside the state. in this respect fascism is a totalising concept, and the fascist state--the unification and synthesis of every value--interprets, develops and potentiates the whole life of the people. . conception of a corporate state. no individuals nor groups (political parties, associations, labour unions, classes) outside the state. for this reason fascism is opposed to socialism, which clings rigidly to class war in the historic evolution and ignores the unity of the state which moulds the classes into a single, moral and economic reality. in the same way fascism is opposed to the unions of the labouring classes. but within the orbit of the state with ordinative functions, the real needs, which give rise to the socialist movement and to the forming of labour unions, are emphatically recognised by fascism and are given their full expression in the corporative system, which conciliates every interest in the unity of the state. . democracy. individuals form classes according to categories of interests. they are associated according to differentiated economical activities which have a common interest: but first and foremost they form the state. the state is not merely either the numbers or the sum of individuals forming the majority of a people. fascism for this reason is opposed to the democracy which identifies peoples with the greatest number of individuals and reduces them to a majority level. but if people are conceived, as they should be, qualitatively and not quantitatively, then fascism is democracy in its purest form. the qualitative conception is the most coherent and truest form and is therefore the most moral, because it sees a people realised in the consciousness and will of the few or even of one only; an ideal which moves to its realisation in the consciousness and will of all. by "all" is meant all who derive their justification as a nation, ethnically speaking, from their nature and history, and who follow the same line of spiritual formation and development as one single will and consciousness--not as a race nor as a geographically determined region, but as a progeny that is rather the outcome of a history which perpetuates itself; a multitude unified by an idea embodied in the will to have power and to exist, conscious of itself and of its personality. . conception of the state. this higher personality is truly the nation, inasmuch as it is the state. the nation does not beget the state, according to the decrepit nationalistic concept which was used as a basis for the publicists of the national states in the nineteenth century. on the contrary, the nation is created by the state, which gives the people, conscious of their own moral unity, the will, and thereby an effective existence. the right of a nation to its independence is derived not from a literary and ideal consciousness of its own existence, much less from a _de facto_ situation more or less inert and unconscious, but from an active consciousness, from an active political will disposed to demonstrate in its right; that is to say, a kind of state already in its pride (_in fieri_). the state, in fact, as a universal ethical will, is the creator of right. . dynamic reality. the nation as a state is an ethical reality which exists and lives in measure as it develops. a standstill is its death. therefore the state is not only the authority which governs and which gives the forms of law and the worth of the spiritual life to the individual wills, but it is also the power which gives effect to its will in foreign matters, causing it to be recognised and respected by demonstrating through facts the universality of all the manifestations necessary for its development. hence it is organization as well as expansion, and it may be thereby considered, at least virtually, equal to the very nature of the human will, which in its evolution recognises no barriers, and which realises itself by proving its infinity. . the rôle of the state. the fascist state, the highest and the most powerful form of personality is a force, but a spiritual one. it reassumes all the forms of the moral and intellectual life of man. it cannot, therefore, be limited to a simple function of order and of safeguarding, as was contended by liberalism. it is not a simple mechanism which limits the sphere of the presumed individual liberties. it is an internal form and rule, a discipline of the entire person: it penetrates the will as well as the intelligence. its principle, a central inspiration of the living human personality in the civil community, descends into the depths and settles in the heart of the man of action as well as the thinker, of the artist as well as of the scientist; the soul of our soul. . discipline and authority. fascism, in short, is not only a lawgiver and the founder of institutions, but an educator and a promoter of the spiritual life. it aims to rebuild not the forms of human life, but its content, the man, the character, the faith. and for this end it exacts discipline and an authority which descend into and dominates the interior of the spirit without opposition. its emblem, therefore, is the lictorian _fasces_, symbol of unity, of force and of justice. political and social doctrine . origins of the doctrine. when, in the now distant march of , i summoned a meeting at milan, through the columns of the _popolo d'italia,_ of those who had supported and endured the war and who had followed me since the constitution of the _fasci_ or revolutionary action in january , there was no specific doctrinal plan in my mind. i had the experience of one only doctrine--that of socialism from - to the winter of about a decade--but i made it first in the ranks and later as a leader and it was never an experience in theory. my doctrine, even during that period, was a doctrine of action. a universally accepted doctrine of socialism had not existed since when the revisionist movement started in germany, under the leadership of bernstein. against this, in the swing of tendencies, a left revolutionary movement began to take shape, but in italy it never went further than the "field of phrases," whereas in russian socialistic circles it became the prelude of bolscevism. "reformism," "revolutionarism," "centrism," this is a terminology of which even the echoes are now spent--but in the great river of fascism are currents which flowed from sorel, from peguy, from lagardelle and the "mouvement socialiste," from italian syndicalists which were legion between and , and sounded a new note in italian socialist circles (weakened then by the betrayal of giolitti) through olivetti's _pagine libere_, orano's _la lupa_ and enrico leone's _divenire sociale_. after the war, in , socialism was already dead as a doctrine: it existed only as a grudge. in italy especially, it had one only possibility of action: reprisals against those who had wanted the war and must now pay its penalty. the _popolo d'italia_ carried as sub-title "daily of ex-service men and producers," and the word producers was already then the expression of a turn of mind. fascism was not the nursling of a doctrine previously worked out at a desk; it was born of the need for action and it was action. it was not a party, in fact during the first two years, it was an anti-party and a movement. the name i gave the organisation fixed its character. yet whoever should read the now crumpled sheets with the minutes of the meeting at which the italian "fasci di combattimento" were constituted, would fail to discover a doctrine, but would find a series of ideas, of anticipations, of hints which, liberated from the inevitable strangleholds of contingencies, were destined after some years to develop into doctrinal conceptions. through them fascism became a political doctrine to itself, different, by comparison, to all others whether contemporary or of the past. i said then, "if the bourgeoisie think we are ready to act as lightning-conductors, they are mistaken. we must go towards labour. we wish to train the working classes to directive functions. we wish to convince them that it is not easy to manage industry or trade: we shall fight the technique and the spirit of the rearguard. when the succession of the regime is open, we must not lack the fighting spirit. we must rush and if the present regime be overcome, it is we who must fill its place. the claim to succession belongs to us, because it was we who forced the country into war and we who led her to victory. the present political representation cannot suffice: we must have a direct representation of all interest. against this programme one might say it is a return to corporations. but that does not matter. therefore i should like this assembly to accept the claims put in by national syndicalism from an economic standpoint...." is it not strange that the word corporations should have been uttered at the first meeting of piazza san sepolcro, when one considers that, in the course of the revolution, it came to express one of the social and legislative creations at the very foundations of the regime? . development. the years which preceded the march on rome were years in which the necessity of action did not permit complete doctrinal investigations or elaborations. the battle was raging in the towns and villages. there were discussions, but what was more important and sacred--there was death. men knew how to die. the doctrine--all complete and formed, with divisions into chapters, paragraphs, and accompanying elucubrations--might be missing; but there was something more decided to replace it, there was faith. notwithstanding, whoever remembers with the aid of books and speeches, whoever could search through them and select, would find that the fundamental principles were laid down whilst the battle raged. it was really in those years that the fascist idea armed itself, became refined and proceeded towards organisation: the problems of the individual and of the state, the problems of authority and of liberty, the political and social problems, especially national; the fight against the liberal, democratic, socialistic and popular doctrines, was carried out together with the "punitive expeditions." but as a "system" was lacking, our adversaries in bad faith, denied to fascism any capacity to produce a doctrine, though that doctrine was growing tumultuously, at first under the aspect of violent and dogmatic negation, as happens to all newly-born ideas, and later under the positive aspect of construction which was successively realised, in the years - - through the laws and institutions of the regime. fascism today stands clearly defined not only as a regime, but also as a doctrine. this word doctrine should be interpreted in the sense that fascism, to-day, when passing criticism on itself and others, has its own point of view and its own point of reference, and therefore also its own orientation when facing those problems which beset the world in the spirit and in the matter. . against pacifism: war and life as a duty. as far as the general future and development of humanity is concerned, and apart from any mere consideration of current politics, fascism above all does not believe either in the possibility or utility of universal peace. it therefore rejects the pacifism which masks surrender and cowardice. war alone brings all human energies to their highest tension and sets a seal of nobility on the peoples who have the virtue to face it. all other tests are but substitutes which never make a man face himself in the alternative of life or death. a doctrine which has its starting-point at the prejudicial postulate of peace is therefore extraneous to fascism. in the same way all international creations (which, as history demonstrates, can be blown to the winds when sentimental, ideal and practical elements storm the heart of a people) are also extraneous to the spirit of fascism--even if such international creations are accepted for whatever utility they may have in any determined political situation. fascism also transports this anti-pacifist spirit into the life of individuals. the proud _squadrista_ motto "_me ne frego_" ("i don't give a damn") scrawled on the bandages of the wounded is an act of philosophy--not only stoic. it is a summary of a doctrine not only political: it is an education in strife and an acceptance of the risks which it carried: it is a new style of italian life. it is thus that the fascist loves and accepts life, ignores and disdains suicide; understands life as a duty, a lifting up, a conquest; something to be filled in and sustained on a high plane; a thing that has to be lived through for its own sake, but above all for the sake of others near and far, present and future. . the demographic policy and the "neighbour." the "demographic" policy of the regime is the result of these premises. the fascist also loves his neighbour, but "neighbour" is not for him a vague and undefinable word: love for his neighbour does not prevent necessary educational severities. fascism rejects professions of universal affection and, though living in the community of civilised peoples, it watches them and looks at them diffidently. it follows them in their state of mind and in the transformation of their interests, but it does not allow itself to be deceived by fallacious and mutable appearances. . against historical materialism and class-struggle. through this conception of life fascism becomes the emphatic negation of that doctrine which constituted the basis of the so-called scientific socialism or marxism: the doctrine of historical materialism, according to which the story of human civilisation is to be explained only by the conflict of interests between the various social groups and by the change of the means and instruments of production. that the economic vicissitudes--discovery of prime or raw materials, new methods of labour, scientific inventions--have their particular importance, is denied by none, but that they suffice to explain human history, excluding other factors from it, is absurd: fascism still believes in sanctity and in heroism, that is to say in acts in which no economic motive, immediate or remote, operates. fascism having denied historical materialism, by which men are only puppets in history, appearing and disappearing on the surface of the tides while in the depths the real directive forces act and labour, it also denies the immutable and irreparable class warfare, which is the natural filiation of such an economistic conception of history: and it denies above all that class warfare is the preponderating agent of social transformation. being defeated on these two capital points of its doctrine, nothing remains of socialism save the sentimental aspiration--as old as humanity--to achieve a community of social life in which the sufferings and hardships of the humblest classes are alleviated. but here fascism repudiates the concept of an economic "happiness" which is to be--at a given moment in the evolution of economy--socialistically and almost automatically realised by assuring to all the maximum of well-being. fascism denies the possibilities of the materialistic concept of "happiness"--it leaves that to the economists of the first half of the seventeenth century; that is, it denies the equation "well-being-happiness," which reduces man to the state of the animals, mindful of only one thing--that of being fed and fattened; reduced, in fact, to a pure and simple vegetative existence. . against democratic ideologies. after disposing of socialism, fascism opens a breach on the whole complex of the democratic ideologies, and repudiates them in their theoretic premises as well as in their practical application or instrumentation. fascism denies that numbers, by the mere fact of being numbers, can direct human society; it denies that these numbers can govern by means of periodical consultations; it affirms also the fertilising, beneficient and unassailable inequality of men, who cannot be levelled through an extrinsic and mechanical process such as universal suffrage. regimes can be called democratic which, from time to time, give the people the illusion of being sovereign, whereas the real and effective sovereignty exists in other, and very often secret and irresponsible forces. democracy is a regime without a king, but very often with many kings, far more exclusive, tyrannical and ruinous than a single king, even if he be a tyrant. this explains why fascism which, for contingent reasons, had assumed a republican tendency before , renounced it previous to the march on rome, with the conviction that the political constitution of a state is not nowadays a supreme question; and that, if the examples of past and present monarchies and past and present republics are studied, the result is that neither monarchies nor republics are to be judged under the assumption of eternity, but that they merely represent forms in which the extrinsic political evolution takes shape as well as the history, the tradition and the psychology of a given country. consequently, fascism glides over the antithesis between monarchy and republic, on which democraticism wasted time, blaming the former for all social shortcomings and exalting the latter as a regime of perfection. we have now seen that there are republics which may be profoundly absolutist and reactionary, and monarchies which welcome the most venturesome social and political experiments. . untruths of democracy. "reason and science" says renan (who had certain pre-fascist enlightenments) in one of his philosophical meditations, "are products of mankind, but to seek reason directly for the people and through the people is a chimera. it is not necessary for the existence of reason that everybody should know it. in any case if this initiation were to be brought about it could not be through low-class democracy, which seems to lead rather to the extinction of every difficult culture and of every great discipline. the principle that society exists only for the welfare and liberty of individuals composing it, does not seem to conform with the plans of nature: plans in which the species only is taken into consideration and the individual appears sacrificed. it is strongly to be feared that the last word of democracy thus understood (i hasten to add that it can also be differently understood) would be a social state in which a degenerated mass would have no preoccupation other than that of enjoying the ignoble pleasures of the vulgar person." thus renan. in democracy fascism rejects the absurd conventional falsehood of political equality, the habit of collective responsibility and the myth of indefinite progress and happiness. but if there be a different understanding of democracy if, in other words, democracy can also signify to not push the people back as far as the margins of the state, then fascism may well have been defined by the present writer as "an organised, centralised, authoritarian democracy." . against liberal doctrines. as regards the liberal doctrines, the attitude of fascism is one of absolute opposition both in the political and in the economical field. there is no need to exaggerate the importance of liberalism in the last century--simply for the sake of present-day polemics--and to transform one of the numerous doctrines unfolded in that last century into a religion of humanity for all times, present and future. liberalism did not flourish for more than a period of fifteen years. it was born in from the reaction to the holy alliance which attempted to set europe back to the period which preceeded ' and had its years of splendour in , when also pius ix was a liberal. its decadence began immediately afterwards. if was a year of light and poesy, was a year of weakness and tragedy. the roman republic was killed by another republic, the french republic. in the same year marx issued his famous manifesto of communism. in napoleon iii made his anti-liberal _coup d'état_ and reigned over france until . he was overthrown by a popular movement, following one of the greatest defeats registered in history. the victor was bismarck, who always ignored the religion of liberty and its prophets. it is symptomatic that a people of high civilisation like the germans completely ignored the religion of liberty throughout the whole nineteenth century--with but one parenthesis, represented by that which was called "the ridiculous parliament of frankfurt" which lasted one season. germany realised its national unity outside of liberalism, against liberalism--a doctrine which seemed alien to the german spirit essentially monarchical, since liberalism is the historical and logical ante-chamber of anarchy. the three wars of , and conducted by "liberals" like moltke and bismarck mark the three stages of german unity. as for italian unity, liberalism played a very inferior part in the make-up of mazzini and garibaldi, who were not liberals. without the intervention of the anti-liberal napoleon we would not have had lombardy, and without the help of the anti-liberal bismarck at sadowa and sedan it is very likely that we would not have got venice in , or that we would have entered rome in . during the period of - the preachers of the new credo themselves denounced the twilight of their religion; it was beaten in the breach by decadence in literature. it was beaten in the open by decadence in practice. activism: that is to say, nationalism, futurism. fascism. the "liberal century" after having accumulated an infinity of gordian knots, sought to cut them in the hecatomb of the world war. never did any religion impose such a terrible sacrifice. have the gods of liberalism slaked their blood-thirst? liberalism is now on the point of closing the doors of its deserted temples because nations feel that its agnosticism in the economic field and its indifference in political and moral matters, causes, as it has already caused, the sure ruin of states. that is why all the political experiences of the contemporary world are anti-liberal, and it is supremely silly to seek to classify them as things outside of history--as if history were a hunting ground reserved to liberalism and its professors; as if liberalism were the last and incomparable word of civilisation. . fascism does not turn back. the fascist negation of socialism, of democracy, of liberalism, should not lead one to believe that fascism wishes to push the world back to where it was before , the date accepted as the opening year of the demo-liberal century. one cannot turn back. the fascist doctrine has not chosen de maistre for its prophet. monarchical absolutism is a thing of the past, and so is the worship of church power. feudal privileges and divisions into impenetrable castes with no connection between them, are also "have beens." the conception of fascist authority has nothing in common with the police. a party that totally rules a nation is a new chapter in history. references and comparisons are not possible. from the ruins of the socialist, liberal and democratic doctrines, fascism picks those elements that still have a living value; keeps those that might be termed "facts acquired by history," and rejects the rest: namely the conception of a doctrine good for all times and all people. admitting that the nineteenth century was the century of socialism, liberalism and democracy, it is not said that the twentieth century must also be the century of socialism, of liberalism, of democracy. political doctrines pass on, but peoples remain. one may now think that this will be the century of authority, the century of the "right wing" the century of fascism. if the nineteenth century was the century of the individual (liberalism signifies individualism) one may think that this will be the century of "collectivism," the century of the state. it is perfectly logical that a new doctrine should utilise the vital elements of other doctrines. no doctrine was ever born entirely new and shining, never seen before. no doctrine can boast of absolute "originality." each doctrine is bound historically to doctrines which went before, to doctrines yet to come. thus the scientific socialism of marx is bound to the utopian socialism of fourier, of owen, of saint-simon; thus the liberalism of is linked with the movement of . thus democratic doctrines are bound to the encyclopaedists. each doctrine tends to direct human activity towards a definite object; but the activity of man reacts upon the doctrine, transforms it and adapts it to new requirements, or overcomes it. doctrine therefore should be an act of life and not an academy of words. in this lie the pragmatic veins of fascism, its will to power, its will to be, its position with regard to "violence" and its value. . the value and mission of the state. the capital point of the fascist doctrine is the conception of the state, its essence, the work to be accomplished, its final aims. in the conception of fascism, the state is an absolute before which individuals and groups are relative. individuals and groups are "conceivable" inasmuch as they are in the state. the liberal state does not direct the movement and the material and spiritual evolution of collectivity, but limits itself to recording the results; the fascist state has its conscious conviction, a will of its own, and for this reason it is called an "ethical" state. in at the first quinquiennial assembly of the regime, i said: "in fascism the state is not a night-watchman, only occupied with the personal safety of the citizens, nor is it an organisation with purely material aims, such as that of assuring a certain well-being and a comparatively easy social cohabitation. a board of directors would be quite sufficient to deal with this. it is not a purely political creation, either, detached from the complex material realities of the life of individuals and of peoples. the state as conceived and enacted by fascism, is a spiritual and moral fact since it gives concrete form to the political, juridical and economical organisation of the country. furthermore this organisation as it rises and develops, is a manifestation of the spirit. the state is a safeguard of interior and exterior safety but it is also the keeper and the transmitter of the spirit of the people, as it was elaborated throughout the ages, in its language, customs and beliefs. the state is not only the present, but it is also the past and above all the future. the state, inasmuch as it transcends the short limits of individual lives, represents the immanent conscience of the nation. the forms in which the state expresses itself are subject to changes, but the necessity for the state remains. it is the state which educates the citizens in civic virtues, gives them a consciousness of their mission, presses them towards unity; the state harmonizes their interests through justice, transmits to prosperity the attainments of thoughts, in science, in art, in laws, in the solidarity of mankind. the state leads men from primitive tribal life to that highest expression of human power which is empire; links up through the centuries the names of those who died to preserve its integrity or to obey its laws; holds up the memory of the leaders who increased its territory, and of the geniuses who cast the light of glory upon it, as an example for future generations to follow. when the conception of the state declines and disintegrating or centrifugal tendencies prevail, whether of individuals or groups, then the national society is about to set." . the unity of the state and the contradictions of capitalism. from onwards to the present day, the universal, political and economical evolution has still further strengthened the doctrinal positions. the giant who rules is the state. the one who can resolve the dramatic contradictions of capital is the state. what is called the crisis cannot be resolved except by the state and in the state. where are the ghosts of jules simon who, at the dawn of liberalism, proclaimed that "the state must set to work to make itself useless and prepare its resignation?" of macculloch who, in the second half of the past century, proclaimed that the state must abstain from ruling? what would the englishman bentham say today to the continual and inevitably-invoked intervention of the state in the sphere of economics, while, according to his theories, industry should ask no more of the state than to be left in peace? or the german humboldt according to whom an "idle" state was the best kind of state? it is true that the second wave of liberal economists were less extreme than the first, and adam smith himself opened the door--if only very cautiously--to let state intervention into the economic field. if liberalism signifies the individual--then fascism signifies the state. but the fascist state is unique of its kind and is an original creation. it is not reactionary but revolutionary, inasmuch as it anticipates the solution of certain universal problems such as those which are treated elsewhere: ) in the political sphere, by the subdivisions of parties, in the preponderance of parliamentarism and in the irresponsibilities of assemblies; ) in the economic sphere, by the functions of trade unions which are becoming constantly more numerous and powerful, whether in the labour or industrial fields, in their conflicts and combinations, and ) in the moral sphere by the necessity of order, discipline, obedience to those who are the moral dictators of the country. fascism wants the state to be strong, organic and at the same time supported on a wide popular basis. as part of its task the fascist state has penetrated the economic field: through the corporative, social and educational institutions which it has created. the presence of the state is felt in the remotest ramifications of the country. and in the state also, all the political, economic and spiritual forces of the nation circulate, mustered in their respective organisations. a state which stands on the support of millions of individuals who recognise it, who believe in it, who are ready to serve it, is not the tyrannical state of the mediaeval lord. it has nothing in common with the absolutist states before or after ' . the individual in the fascist state is not annulled but rather multiplied, just as in a regiment a soldier is not diminished, but multiplied by the number of his comrades. the fascist state organises the nation, but leaves a sufficient margin afterward to the individual; it has limited the useless or harmful liberties and has preserved the essential ones. the one to judge in this respect is not the individual but the state. . the fascist state and religion. the fascist state is not indifferent to the presence or the fact of religion in general nor to the presence of that particular established religion, which is italian catholicism. the state has no theology, but it has morality. in the fascist state religion is considered as one of the most profound manifestations of the spirit; it is therefore not only respected, but defended and protected. the fascist state does not create its own "god," as robespierre wanted to do at a certain moment in the frenzies of the convention; nor does it vainly endeavour to cancel the idea of god from the mind as bolschevism tries to do. fascism respects the god of the ascetics, of the saints and of the heroes. it also respects god as he is conceived and prayed to in the ingenuous and primitive heart of the people. . empire and discipline. the fascist state is a will expressing power and empire. the roman tradition here becomes an idea of force. in the fascist doctrine, empire is not only a territorial or a military, or a commercial expression: it is a moral and a spiritual one. an empire can be thought of, for instance, as a nation which directly or indirectly guides other nations--without the need of conquering a single mile of territory. for fascism, the tendency to empire, that is to say the expansion of nations, is a manifestation of vitality, its contrary (the stay-at-home attitude) is a sign of decadence. peoples who rise, or who suddenly flourish again, are imperialistic; peoples who die are peoples who abdicate. fascism is a doctrine which most adequately represents the tendencies, the state of mind of a people like the italian people, which is rising again after many centuries of abandonment and of foreign servitude. but empire requires discipline, the coordination of forces, duty and sacrifice. this explains many phases of the practical action of the regime. it explains the aims of many of the forces of the state and the necessary severity against those who would oppose themselves to this spontaneous and irresistible movement of the italy of the twentieth century by trying to appeal to the discredited ideologies of the nineteenth century, which have been repudiated wherever great experiments of political and social transformation have been daringly undertaken. never more than at the present moment have the nations felt such a thirst for an authority, for a direction, for order. if every century has its own peculiar doctrine, there are a thousand indications that fascism is that of the present century. that it is a doctrine of life is shown by the fact that it has created a faith; that the faith has taken possession of the mind is demonstrated by the fact that fascism has had its fallen and its martyrs. fascism has now attained in the world an universality over all doctrines. being realised, it represents an epoch in the history of the human mind. the political doctrine of fascism[ ] by his excellency alfredo rocco premier mussolini's endorsement of signor rocco's speech the following message was sent by benito mussolini, the premier of italy, to signor rocco after he had delivered his speech at perugia. dear rocco, i have just read your magnificent address which i endorse throughout. you have presented in a masterful way the doctrine of fascism. for fascism has a doctrine, or, if you will, a particular philosophy with regard to all the questions which beset the human mind today. all italian fascists should read your discourse and derive from it both the clear formulation of the basic principles of our program as well as the reasons why fascism must be systematically, firmly, and rationally inflexible in its uncompromising attitude towards other parties. thus and only thus can the word become flesh and the ideas be turned into deeds. cordial greetings, mussolini. fascism as action, as feeling, and as thought much has been said, and is now being said for or against this complex political and social phenomenon which in the brief period of six years has taken complete hold of italian life and, spreading beyond the borders of the kingdom, has made itself felt in varying degrees of intensity throughout the world. but people have been much more eager to extol or to deplore than to understand--which is natural enough in a period of tumultuous fervor and of political passion. the time has not yet arrived for a dispassionate judgment. for even i, who noticed the very first manifestations of this great development, saw its significance from the start and participated directly in its first doings, carefully watching all its early uncertain and changing developments, even i do not feel competent to pass definite judgment. fascism is so large a part of myself that it would be both arbitrary and absurd for me to try to dissociate my personality from it, to submit it to impartial scrutiny in order to evaluate it coldly and accurately. what can be done, however, and it seldom is attempted, is to make inquiry into the phenomenon which shall not merely consider its fragmentary and adventitious aspects, but strive to get at its inner essence. the undertaking may not be easy, but it is necessary, and no occasion for attempting it is more suitable than the present one afforded me by my friends of perugia. suitable it is in time because, at the inauguration of a course of lectures and lessons principally intended to illustrate that old and glorious trend of the life and history of italy which takes its name from the humble saint of assisi, it seemed natural to connect it with the greatest achievement of modern italy, different in so many ways from the franciscan movement, but united with it by the mighty common current of italian history. it is suitable as well in place because at perugia, which witnessed the growth of our religious ideas, of our political doctrines and of our legal science in the course of the most glorious centuries of our cultural history, the mind is properly disposed and almost oriented towards an investigation of this nature. first of all let us ask ourselves if there is a political doctrine of fascism; if there is any ideal content in the fascist state. for in order to link fascism, both as concept and system, with the history of italian thought and find therein a place for it, we must first show that it is thought; that it is a doctrine. many persons are not quite convinced that it is either the one or the other; and i am not referring solely to those men, cultured or uncultured, as the case may be and very numerous everywhere, who can discern in this political innovation nothing except its local and personal aspects, and who know fascism only as the particular manner of behavior of this or that well-known fascist, of this or that group of a certain town; who therefore like or dislike the movement on the basis of their likes and dislikes for the individuals who represent it. nor do i refer to those intelligent, and cultivated persons, very intelligent indeed and very cultivated, who because of their direct or indirect allegiance to the parties that have been dispossessed by the advent of fascism, have a natural cause of resentment against it and are therefore unable to see, in the blindness of hatred, anything good in it. i am referring rather to those--and there are many in our ranks too--who know fascism as action and feeling but not yet as thought, who therefore have an intuition but no comprehension of it. it is true that fascism is, above all, action and sentiment and that such it must continue to be. were it otherwise, it could not keep up that immense driving force, that renovating power which it now possesses and would merely be the solitary meditation of a chosen few. only because it is feeling and sentiment, only because it is the unconscious reawakening of our profound racial instinct, has it the force to stir the soul of the people, and to set free an irresistible current of national will. only because it is action, and as such actualizes itself in a vast organization and in a huge movement, has it the conditions for determining the historical course of contemporary italy. but fascism is thought as well and it has a theory, which is an essential part of this historical phenomenon, and which is responsible in a great measure for the successes that have been achieved. to the existence of this ideal content of fascism, to the truth of this fascist logic we ascribe the fact that though we commit many errors of detail, we very seldom go astray on fundamentals, whereas all the parties of the opposition, deprived as they are of an informing, animating principle, of a unique directing concept, do very often wage their war faultlessly in minor tactics, better trained as they are in parliamentary and journalistic manoeuvres, but they constantly break down on the important issues. fascism, moreover, considered as action, is a typically italian phenomenon and acquires a universal validity because of the existence of this coherent and organic doctrine. the originality of fascism is due in great part to the autonomy of its theoretical principles. for even when, in its external behavior and in its conclusions, it seems identical with other political creeds, in reality it possesses an inner originality due to the new spirit which animates it and to an entirely different theoretical approach. common origins and common background of modern political doctrines: from liberalism to socialism modern political thought remained, until recently, both in italy and outside of italy under the absolute control of those doctrines which, proceeding from the protestant reformation and developed by the adepts of natural law in the xvii and xviii centuries, were firmly grounded in the institutions and customs of the english, of the american, and of the french revolutions. under different and sometimes clashing forms these doctrines have left a determining imprint upon all theories and actions both social and political, of the xix and xx centuries down to the rise of fascism. the common basis of all these doctrines, which stretch from longuet, from buchanan, and from althusen down to karl marx, to wilson and to lenin is a social and state concept which i shall call mechanical or atomistic. society according to this concept is merely a sum total of individuals, a plurality which breaks up into its single components. therefore the ends of a society, so considered, are nothing more than the ends of the individuals which compose it and for whose sake it exists. an atomistic view of this kind is also necessarily anti-historical, inasmuch as it considers society in its spatial attributes and not in its temporal ones; and because it reduces social life to the existence of a single generation. society becomes thus a sum of determined individuals, viz., the generation living at a given moment. this doctrine which i call atomistic and which appears to be anti-historical, reveals from under a concealing cloak a strongly materialistic nature. for in its endeavors to isolate the present from the past and the future, it rejects the spiritual inheritance of ideas and sentiments which each generation receives from those preceding and hands down to the following generation thus destroying the unity and the spiritual life itself of human society. this common basis shows the close logical connection existing between all political doctrines; the substantial solidarity, which unites all the political movements, from liberalism to socialism, that until recently have dominated europe. for these political schools differ from one another in their methods, but all agree as to the ends to be achieved. all of them consider the welfare and happiness of individuals to be the goal of society, itself considered as composed of individuals of the present generation. all of them see in society and in its juridical organization, the state, the mere instrument and means whereby individuals can attain their ends. they differ only in that the methods pursued for the attainment of these ends vary considerably one from the other. thus the liberals insist that the best manner to secure the welfare of the citizens as individuals is to interfere as little as possible with the free development of their activities and that therefore the essential task of the state is merely to coordinate these several liberties in such a way as to guarantee their coexistence. kant, who was without doubt the most powerful and thorough philosopher of liberalism, said, "man, who is the end, cannot be assumed to have the value of an instrument." and again, "justice, of which the state is the specific organ, is the condition whereby the freedom of each is conditioned upon the freedom of others, according to the general law of liberty." having thus defined the task of the state, liberalism confines itself to the demand of certain guarantees which are to keep the state from overstepping its functions as general coordinator of liberties and from sacrificing the freedom of individuals more than is absolutely necessary for the accomplishment of its purpose. all the efforts are therefore directed to see to it that the ruler, mandatory of all and entrusted with the realization, through and by liberty, of the harmonious happiness of everybody, should never be clothed with undue power. hence the creation of a system of checks and limitations designed to keep the rulers within bounds; and among these, first and foremost, the principle of the division of powers, contrived as a means for weakening the state in its relation to the individual, by making it impossible for the state ever to appear, in its dealings with citizens, in the full plenitude of sovereign powers; also the principle of the participation of citizens in the lawmaking power, as a means for securing, in behalf of the individual, a direct check on this, the strongest branch, and an indirect check on the entire government of the state. this system of checks and limitations, which goes by the name of constitutional government resulted in a moderate and measured liberalism. the checking power was exercised only by those citizens who were deemed worthy and capable, with the result that a small élite was made to represent legally the entire body politic for whose benefit this régime was instituted. it was evident, however, that this moderate system, being fundamentally illogical and in contradiction with the very principles from which it proceeded, would soon become the object of serious criticism. for if the object of society and of the state is the welfare of individuals, severally considered, how is it possible to admit that this welfare can be secured by the individuals themselves only through the possibilities of such a liberal régime? the inequalities brought about both by nature and by social organizations are so numerous and so serious, that, for the greater part, individuals abandoned to themselves not only would fail to attain happiness, but would also contribute to the perpetuation of their condition of misery and dejection. the state therefore cannot limit itself to the merely negative function of the defense of liberty. it must become active, in behalf of everybody, for the welfare of the people. it must intervene, when necessary, in order to improve the material, intellectual, and moral conditions of the masses; it must find work for the unemployed, instruct and educate the people, and care for health and hygiene. for if the purpose of society and of the state is the welfare of individuals, and if it is just that these individuals themselves control the attainment of their ends, it becomes difficult to understand why liberalism should not go the whole distance, why it should see fit to distinguish certain individuals from the rest of the mass, and why the functions of the people should be restricted to the exercise of a mere check. therefore the state, if it exists for all, must be governed by all, and not by a small minority: if the state is for the people, sovereignty must reside in the people: if all individuals have the right to govern the state, liberty is no longer sufficient; equality must be added: and if sovereignty is vested in the people, the people must wield all sovereignty and not merely a part of it. the power to check and curb the government is not sufficient. the people must be the government. thus, logically developed, liberalism leads to democracy, for democracy contains the promises of liberalism but oversteps its limitations in that it makes the action of the state positive, proclaims the equality of all citizens through the dogma of popular sovereignty. democracy therefore necessarily implies a republican form of government even though at times, for reasons of expediency, it temporarily adjusts itself to a monarchical régime. once started on this downward grade of logical deductions it was inevitable that this atomistic theory of state and society should pass on to a more advanced position. great industrial developments and the existence of a huge mass of working men, as yet badly treated and in a condition of semi-servitude, possibly endurable in a régime of domestic industry, became intolerable after the industrial revolution. hence a state of affairs which towards the middle of the last century appeared to be both cruel and threatening. it was therefore natural that the following question be raised: "if the state is created for the welfare of its citizens, severally considered, how can it tolerate an economic system which divides the population into a small minority of exploiters, the capitalists, on one side, and an immense multitude of exploited, the working people, on the other?" no! the state must again intervene and give rise to a different and less iniquitous economic organization, by abolishing private property, by assuming direct control of all production, and by organizing it in such a way that the products of labor be distributed solely among those who create them, viz., the working classes. hence we find socialism, with its new economic organization of society, abolishing private ownership of capital and of the instruments and means of production, socializing the product, suppressing the extra profit of capital, and turning over to the working class the entire output of the productive processes. it is evident that socialism contains and surpasses democracy in the same way that democracy comprises and surpasses liberalism, being a more advanced development of the same fundamental concept. socialism in its turn generates the still more extreme doctrine of bolshevism which demands the violent suppression of the holders of capital, the dictatorship of the proletariat, as means for a fairer economic organization of society and for the rescue of the laboring classes from capitalistic exploitation. thus liberalism, democracy, and socialism, appear to be, as they are in reality, not only the offspring of one and the same theory of government, but also logical derivations one of the other. logically developed liberalism leads to democracy; the logical development of democracy issues into socialism. it is true that for many years, and with some justification, socialism was looked upon as antithetical to liberalism. but the antithesis is purely relative and breaks down as we approach the common origin and foundation of the two doctrines, for we find that the opposition is one of method, not of purpose. the end is the same for both, viz., the welfare of the individual members of society. the difference lies in the fact that liberalism would be guided to its goal by liberty, whereas socialism strives to attain it by the collective organization of production. there is therefore no antithesis nor even a divergence as to the nature and scope of the state and the relation of individuals to society. there is only a difference of evaluation of the means for bringing about these ends and establishing these relations, which difference depends entirely on the different economic conditions which prevailed at the time when the various doctrines were formulated. liberalism arose and began to thrive in the period of small industry; socialism grew with the rise of industrialism and of world-wide capitalism. the dissension therefore between these two points of view, or the antithesis, if we wish so to call it, is limited to the economic field. socialism is at odds with liberalism only on the question of the organization of production and of the division of wealth. in religious, intellectual, and moral matters it is liberal, as it is liberal and democratic in its politics. even the anti-liberalism and anti-democracy of bolshevism are in themselves purely contingent. for bolshevism is opposed to liberalism only in so far as the former is revolutionary, not in its socialistic aspect. for if the opposition of the bolsheviki to liberal and democratic doctrines were to continue, as now seems more and more probable, the result might be a complete break between bolshevism and socialism notwithstanding the fact that the ultimate aims of both are identical. fascism as an integral doctrine of sociality antithetical to the atomism of liberal, democratic, and socialistic theories the true antithesis, not to this or that manifestation of the liberal-democratic-socialistic conception of the state but to the concept itself, is to be found in the doctrine of fascism. for while the disagreement between liberalism and democracy, and between liberalism and socialism lies in a difference of method, as we have said, the rift between socialism, democracy, and liberalism on one side and fascism on the other is caused by a difference in concept. as a matter of fact, fascism never raises the question of methods, using in its political praxis now liberal ways, now democratic means and at times even socialistic devices. this indifference to method often exposes fascism to the charge of incoherence on the part of superficial observers, who do not see that what counts with us is the end and that therefore even when we employ the same means we act with a radically different spiritual attitude and strive for entirely different results. the fascist concept then of the nation, of the scope of the state, and of the relations obtaining between society and its individual components, rejects entirely the doctrine which i said proceeded from the theories of natural law developed in the course of the xvi, xvii, and xviii centuries and which form the basis of the liberal, democratic, and socialistic ideology. i shall not try here to expound this doctrine but shall limit myself to a brief résumé of its fundamental concepts. man--the political animal--according to the definition of aristotle, lives and must live in society. a human being outside the pale of society is an inconceivable thing--a non-man. humankind in its entirety lives in social groups that are still, today, very numerous and diverse, varying in importance and organization from the tribes of central africa to the great western empires. these various societies are fractions of the human species each one of them endowed with a unified organization. and as there is no unique organization of the human species, there is not "one" but there are "several" human societies. humanity therefore exists solely as a biological concept not as a social one. each society on the other hand exists in the unity of both its biological and its social contents. socially considered it is a fraction of the human species endowed with unity of organization for the attainment of the peculiar ends of the species. this definition brings out all the elements of the social phenomenon and not merely those relating to the preservation and perpetuation of the species. for man is not solely matter; and the ends of the human species, far from being the materialistic ones we have in common with other animals, are, rather, and predominantly, the spiritual finalities which are peculiar to man and which every form of society strives to attain as well as its stage of social development allows. thus the organization of every social group is more or less pervaded by the spiritual influxes of: unity of language, of culture, of religion, of tradition, of customs, and in general of feeling and of volition, which are as essential as the material elements: unity of economic interests, of living conditions, and of territory. the definition given above demonstrates another truth, which has been ignored by the political doctrines that for the last four centuries have been the foundations of political systems, viz., that the social concept has a biological aspect, because social groups are fractions of the human species, each one possessing a peculiar organization, a particular rank in the development of civilization with certain needs and appropriate ends, in short, a life which is really its own. if social groups are then fractions of the human species, they must possess the same fundamental traits of the human species, which means that they must be considered as a succession of generations and not as a collection of individuals. it is evident therefore that as the human species is not the total of the living human beings of the world, so the various social groups which compose it are not the sum of the several individuals which at a given moment belong to it, but rather the infinite series of the past, present, and future generations constituting it. and as the ends of the human species are not those of the several individuals living at a certain moment, being occasionally in direct opposition to them, so the ends of the various social groups are not necessarily those of the individuals that belong to the groups but may even possibly be in conflict with such ends, as one sees clearly whenever the preservation and the development of the species demand the sacrifice of the individual, to wit, in times of war. fascism replaces therefore the old atomistic and mechanical state theory which was at the basis of the liberal and democratic doctrines with an organic and historic concept. when i say organic i do not wish to convey the impression that i consider society as an organism after the manner of the so-called "organic theories of the state"; but rather to indicate that the social groups as fractions of the species receive thereby a life and scope which transcend the scope and life of the individuals identifying themselves with the history and finalities of the uninterrupted series of generations. it is irrelevant in this connection to determine whether social groups, considered as fractions of the species, constitute organisms. the important thing is to ascertain that this organic concept of the state gives to society a continuous life over and beyond the existence of the several individuals. the relations therefore between state and citizens are completely reversed by the fascist doctrine. instead of the liberal-democratic formula, "society for the individual," we have, "individuals for society" with this difference however: that while the liberal doctrines eliminated society, fascism does not submerge the individual in the social group. it subordinates him, but does not eliminate him; the individual as a part of his generation ever remaining an element of society however transient and insignificant he may be. moreover the development of individuals in each generation, when coordinated and harmonized, conditions the development and prosperity of the entire social unit. at this juncture the antithesis between the two theories must appear complete and absolute. liberalism, democracy, and socialism look upon social groups as aggregates of living individuals; for fascism they are the recapitulating unity of the indefinite series of generations. for liberalism, society has no purposes other than those of the members living at a given moment. for fascism, society has historical and immanent ends of preservation, expansion, improvement, quite distinct from those of the individuals which at a given moment compose it; so distinct in fact that they may even be in opposition. hence the necessity, for which the older doctrines make little allowance, of sacrifice, even up to the total immolation of individuals, in behalf of society; hence the true explanation of war, eternal law of mankind, interpreted by the liberal-democratic doctrines as a degenerate absurdity or as a maddened monstrosity. for liberalism, society has no life distinct from the life of the individuals, or as the phrase goes: solvitur in singularitates. for fascism, the life of society overlaps the existence of individuals and projects itself into the succeeding generations through centuries and millennia. individuals come into being, grow, and die, followed by others, unceasingly; social unity remains always identical to itself. for liberalism, the individual is the end and society the means; nor is it conceivable that the individual, considered in the dignity of an ultimate finality, be lowered to mere instrumentality. for fascism, society is the end, individuals the means, and its whole life consists in using individuals as instruments for its social ends. the state therefore guards and protects the welfare and development of individuals not for their exclusive interest, but because of the identity of the needs of individuals with those of society as a whole. we can thus accept and explain institutions and practices, which like the death penalty, are condemned by liberalism in the name of the preeminence of individualism. the fundamental problem of society in the old doctrines is the question of the rights of individuals. it may be the right to freedom as the liberals would have it; or the right to the government of the commonwealth as the democrats claim it, or the right to economic justice as the socialists contend; but in every case it is the right of individuals, or groups of individuals (classes). fascism on the other hand faces squarely the problem of the right of the state and of the duty of individuals. individual rights are only recognized in so far as they are implied in the rights of the state. in this preeminence of duty we find the highest ethical value of fascism. the problems of liberty, of government, and of social justice in the political doctrine of fascism this, however, does not mean that the problems raised by the other schools are ignored by fascism. it means simply that it faces them and solves them differently, as, for example, the problem of liberty. there is a liberal theory of freedom, and there is a fascist concept of liberty. for we, too, maintain the necessity of safeguarding the conditions that make for the free development of the individual; we, too, believe that the oppression of individual personality can find no place in the modern state. we do not, however, accept a bill of rights which tends to make the individual superior to the state and to empower him to act in opposition to society. our concept of liberty is that the individual must be allowed to develop his personality in behalf of the state, for these ephemeral and infinitesimal elements of the complex and permanent life of society determine by their normal growth the development of the state. but this individual growth must be normal. a huge and disproportionate development of the individual of classes, would prove as fatal to society as abnormal growths are to living organisms. freedom therefore is due to the citizen and to classes on condition that they exercise it in the interest of society as a whole and within the limits set by social exigencies, liberty being, like any other individual right, a concession of the state. what i say concerning civil liberties applies to economic freedom as well. fascism does not look upon the doctrine of economic liberty as an absolute dogma. it does not refer economic problems to individual needs, to individual interest, to individual solutions. on the contrary it considers the economic development, and especially the production of wealth, as an eminently social concern, wealth being for society an essential element of power and prosperity. but fascism maintains that in the ordinary run of events economic liberty serves the social purposes best; that it is profitable to entrust to individual initiative the task of economic development both as to production and as to distribution; that in the economic world individual ambition is the most effective means for obtaining the best social results with the least effort. therefore, on the question also of economic liberty the fascists differ fundamentally from the liberals; the latter see in liberty a principle, the the fascists accept it as a method. by the liberals, freedom is recognized in the interest of the citizens; the fascists grant it in the interest of society. in other terms, fascists make of the individual an economic instrument for the advancement of society, an instrument which they use so long as it functions and which they subordinate when no longer serviceable. in this guise fascism solves the eternal problem of economic freedom and of state interference, considering both as mere methods which may or may not be employed in accordance with the social needs of the moment. what i have said concerning political and economic liberalism applies also to democracy. the latter envisages fundamentally the problem of sovereignty; fascism does also, but in an entirely different manner. democracy vests sovereignty in the people, that is to say, in the mass of human beings. fascism discovers sovereignty to be inherent in society when it is juridically organized as a state. democracy therefore turns over the government of the state to the multitude of living men that they may use it to further their own interests; fascism insists that the government be entrusted to men capable of rising above their own private interests and of realizing the aspirations of the social collectivity, considered in its unity and in its relation to the past and future. fascism therefore not only rejects the dogma of popular sovereignty and substitutes for it that of state sovereignty, but it also proclaims that the great mass of citizens is not a suitable advocate of social interests for the reason that the capacity to ignore individual private interests in favor of the higher demands of society and of history is a very rare gift and the privilege of the chosen few. natural intelligence and cultural preparation are of great service in such tasks. still more valuable perhaps is the intuitiveness of rare great minds, their traditionalism and their inherited qualities. this must not however be construed to mean that the masses are not to be allowed to exercise any influence on the life of the state. on the contrary, among peoples with a great history and with noble traditions, even the lowest elements of society possess an instinctive discernment of what is necessary for the welfare of the race, which in moments of great historical crises reveals itself to be almost infallible. it is therefore as wise to afford to this instinct the means of declaring itself as it is judicious to entrust the normal control of the commonwealth to a selected élite. as for socialism, the fascist doctrine frankly recognizes that the problem raised by it as to the relations between capital and labor is a very serious one, perhaps the central one of modern life. what fascism does not countenance is the collectivistic solution proposed by the socialists. the chief defect of the socialistic method has been clearly demonstrated by the experience of the last few years. it does not take into account human nature, it is therefore outside of reality, in that it will not recognize that the most powerful spring of human activities lies in individual self-interest and that therefore the elimination from the economic field of this interest results in complete paralysis. the suppression of private ownership of capital carries with it the suppression of capital itself, for capital is formed by savings and no one will want to save, but will rather consume all he makes if he knows he cannot keep and hand down to his heirs the results of his labors. the dispersion of capital means the end of production since capital, no matter who owns it, is always an indispensable tool of production. collective organization of production is followed therefore by the paralysis of production since, by eliminating from the productive mechanism the incentive of individual interest, the product becomes rarer and more costly. socialism then, as experience has shown, leads to increase in consumption, to the dispersion of capital and therefore to poverty. of what avail is it, then, to build a social machine which will more justly distribute wealth if this very wealth is destroyed by the construction of this machine? socialism committed an irreparable error when it made of private property a matter of justice while in truth it is a problem of social utility. the recognition of individual property rights, then, is a part of the fascist doctrine not because of its individual bearing but because of its social utility. we must reject, therefore, the socialistic solution but we cannot allow the problem raised by the socialists to remain unsolved, not only because justice demands a solution but also because the persistence of this problem in liberal and democratic régimes has been a menace to public order and to the authority of the state. unlimited and unrestrained class self-defense, evinced by strikes and lockouts, by boycotts and sabotage, leads inevitably to anarchy. the fascist doctrine, enacting justice among the classes in compliance with a fundamental necessity of modern life, does away with class self-defense, which, like individual self-defense in the days of barbarism, is a source of disorder and of civil war. having reduced the problem of these terms, only one solution is possible, the realization of justice among the classes by and through the state. centuries ago the state, as the specific organ of justice, abolished personal self-defense in individual controversies and substituted for it state justice. the time has now come when class self-defense also must be replaced by state justice. to facilitate the change fascism has created its own syndicalism. the suppression of class self-defense does not mean the suppression of class defense which is an inalienable necessity of modern economic life. class organization is a fact which cannot be ignored but it must be controlled, disciplined, and subordinated by the state. the syndicate, instead of being, as formerly, an organ of extra-legal defense, must be turned into an organ of legal defense which will become judicial defense as soon as labor conflicts become a matter of judicial settlement. fascism therefore has transformed the syndicate, that old revolutionary instrument of syndicalistic socialists, into an instrument of legal defense of the classes both within and without the law courts. this solution may encounter obstacles in its development; the obstacles of malevolence, of suspicion of the untried, of erroneous calculation, etc., but it is destined to triumph even though it must advance through progressive stages. historical value of the doctrine of fascism i might carry this analysis farther but what i have already said is sufficient to show that the rise of a fascist ideology already gives evidence of an upheaval in the intellectual field as powerful as the change that was brought about in the xvii and xviii centuries by the rise and diffusion of those doctrines of _ius naturale_ which go under the name of "philosophy of the french revolution." the philosophy of the french revolution formulated certain principles, the authority of which, unquestioned for a century and a half, seemed so final that they were given the attribute of immortality. the influence of these principles was so great that they determined the formation of a new culture, of a new civilization. likewise the fervor of the ideas that go to make up the fascist doctrine, now in its inception but destined to spread rapidly, will determine the course of a new culture and of a new conception of civil life. the deliverance of the individual from the state carried out in the xviii century will be followed in the xx century by the rescue of the state from the individual. the period of authority, of social obligations, of "hierarchical" subordination will succeed the period of individualism, of state feebleness, of insubordination. this innovating trend is not and cannot be a return to the middle ages. it is a common but an erroneous belief that the movement, started by the reformation and heightened by the french revolution, was directed against mediaeval ideas and institutions. rather than as a negation, this movement should be looked upon as the development and fulfillment of the doctrines and practices of the middle ages. socially and politically considered the middle ages wrought disintegration and anarchy; they were characterized by the gradual weakening and ultimate extinction of the state, embodied in the roman empire, driven first to the east, then back to france, thence to germany, a shadow of its former self; they were marked by the steady advance of the forces of usurpation, destructive of the state and reciprocally obnoxious; they bore the imprints of a triumphant particularism. therefore the individualistic and anti-social movement of the xvii and xviii centuries was not directed against the middle ages, but rather against the restoration of the state by great national monarchies. if this movement destroyed mediaeval institutions that had survived the middle ages and had been grafted upon the new states, it was in consequence of the struggle primarily waged against the state. the spirit of the movement was decidedly mediaeval. the novelty consisted in the social surroundings in which it operated and in its relation to new economic developments. the individualism of the feudal lords, the particularism of the cities and of the corporations had been replaced by the individualism and the particularism of the bourgeoisie and of the popular classes. the fascist ideology cannot therefore look back to the middle ages, of which it is a complete negation. the middle ages spell disintegration; fascism is nothing if not sociality. it is if anything the beginning of the end of the middle ages prolonged four centuries beyond the end ordinarily set for them and revived by the social democratic anarchy of the past thirty years. if fascism can be said to look back at all it is rather in the direction of ancient rome whose social and political traditions at the distance of fifteen centuries are being revived by fascist italy. i am fully aware that the value of fascism, as an intellectual movement, baffles the minds of many of its followers and supporters and is denied outright by its enemies. there is no malice in this denial, as i see it, but rather an incapacity to comprehend. the liberal-democratic-socialistic ideology has so completely and for so long a time dominated italian culture that in the minds of the majority of people trained by it, it has assumed the value of an absolute truth, almost the authority of a natural law. every faculty of self-criticism is suppressed in the minds and this suppression entails an incapacity for understanding that time alone can change. it will be advisable therefore to rely mainly upon the new generations and in general upon persons whose culture is not already fixed. this difficulty to comprehend on the part of those who have been thoroughly grounded by a different preparation in the political and social sciences explains in part why fascism has not been wholly successful with the intellectual classes and with mature minds, and why on the other hand it has been very successful with young people, with women, in rural districts, and among men of action unencumbered by a fixed and set social and political education. fascism moreover, as a cultural movement, is just now taking its first steps. as in the case with all great movements, action regularly outstrips thought. it was thus at the time of the protestant reformation and of the individualistic reaction of the xvii and xviii centuries. the english revolution occurred when the doctrines of natural law were coming into being and the theoretical development of the liberal and democratic theories followed the french revolution. at this point it will not be very difficult to assign a fitting place in history to this great trend of thought which is called fascism and which, in spite of the initial difficulties, already gives clear indication of the magnitude of its developments. the liberal-democratic speculation both in its origin and in the manner of its development appears to be essentially a non-italian formation. its connection with the middle ages already shows it to be foreign to the latin mind, the mediaeval disintegration being the result of the triumph of germanic individualism over the political mentality of the romans. the barbarians, boring from within and hacking from without, pulled down the great political structure raised by latin genius and put nothing in its place. anarchy lasted eight centuries during which time only one institution survived and that a roman one--the catholic church. but, as soon as the laborious process of reconstruction was started with the constitution of the great national states backed by the roman church the protestant reformation set in followed by the individualistic currents of the xvii and xviii centuries, and the process of disintegration was started anew. this anti-state tendency was the expression of the germanic spirit and it therefore became predominant among the germanic peoples and wherever germanism had left a deep imprint even if afterward superficially covered by a veneer of latin culture. it is true that marsilius from padua is an italian writing for ludwig the bavarian, but the other writers who in the xiv century appear as forerunners of the liberal doctrines are not italians: occam and wycliff are english; oresme is french. among the advocates of individualism in the xvi century who prepared the way for the triumph of the doctrines of natural law in the subsequent centuries, hotman and languet are french, buchanan is scotch. of the great authorities of natural law, grotius and spinosa are dutch; locke is english; l'abbé de st. pierre, montesquieu, d'argenson, voltaire, rousseau, diderot and the encyclopaedists are french; althusius, pufendorf, kant, fichte are german. italy took no part in the rise and development of the doctrines of natural law. only in the xix century did she evince a tardy interest in these doctrines, just as she tardily contributed to them at the dose of the xviii century through the works of beccaria and filangeri. while therefore in other countries such as france, england, germany, and holland, the general tradition in the social and political sciences worked in behalf of anti-state individualism, and therefore of liberal and democratic doctrines, italy, on the other hand, clung to the powerful legacy of its past in virtue of which she proclaims the rights of the state, the preeminence of its authority, and the superiority of its ends. the very fact that the italian political doctrine in the middle ages linked itself with the great political writers of antiquity, plato and aristotle, who in a different manner but with an equal firmness advocated a strong state and the subordination of individuals to it, is a sufficient index of the orientation of political philosophy in italy. we all know how thorough and crushing the authority of aristotle was in the middle ages. but for aristotle the spiritual cement of the state is "virtue" not absolute virtue but political virtue, which is social devotion. his state is made up solely of its citizens, the citizens being either those who defend it with their arms or who govern it as magistrates. all others who provide it with the materials and services it needs are not citizens. they become such only in the corrupt forms of certain democracies. society is therefore divided into two classes, the free men or citizens who give their time to noble and virtuous occupations and who profess their subjection to the state, and the laborers and slaves who work for the maintenance of the former. no man in this scheme is his own master. the slaves belong to the freemen, and the freemen belong to the state. it was therefore natural that st. thomas aquinas the greatest political writer of the middle ages should emphasize the necessity of unity in the political field, the harm of plurality of rulers, the dangers and damaging effects of demagogy. the good of the state, says st. thomas aquinas, is unity. and who can procure unity more fittingly than he who is himself one? moreover the government must follow, as far as possible, the course of nature and in nature power is always one. in the physical body only one organ is dominant--the heart; in the spirit only one faculty has sway--reason. bees have one sole ruler; and the entire universe one sole sovereign--god. experience shows that the countries, which are ruled by many, perish because of discord while those that are ruled over by one enjoy peace, justice, and plenty. the states which are not ruled by one are troubled by dissensions, and toil unceasingly. on the contrary the states which are ruled over by one king enjoy peace, thrive in justice and are gladdened by affluence.[ ] the rule of the multitudes can not be sanctioned, for where the crowd rules it oppresses the rich as would a tyrant.[ ] italy in the middle ages presented a curious phenomenon: while in practice the authority of the state was being dissolved into a multiplicity of competing sovereignties, the theory of state unity and authority was kept alive in the minds of thinkers by the memories of the roman imperial tradition. it was this memory that supported for centuries the fiction of the universal roman empire when in reality it existed no longer. dante's _de monarchia_ deduced the theory of this empire conceived as the unity of a strong state. "quod potest fieri per unum melius est per unum fieri quam plura," he says in the xiv chapter of the first book, and further on, considering the citizen as an instrument for the attainment of the ends of the state, he concludes that the individual must sacrifice himself for his country. "si pars debet se exponere pro salute totius, cum homo siti pars quaedam civitatis ... homo pro patria debet exponere se ipsum." (lib. ii. ). the roman tradition, which was one of practice but not of theories--for rome constructed the most solid state known to history with extraordinary statesmanship but with hardly any political writings--influenced considerably the founder of modern political science, nicolo machiavelli, who was himself in truth not a creator of doctrines but a keen observer of human nature who derived from the study of history practical maxims of political import. he freed the science of politics from the formalism of the scholastics and brought it close to concrete reality. his writings, an inexhaustible mine of practical remarks and precious observations, reveal dominant in him the state idea, no longer abstract but in the full historical concreteness of the national unity of italy. machiavelli therefore is not only the greatest of modern political writers, he is also the greatest of our countrymen in full possession of a national italian consciousness. to liberate italy, which was in his day "enslaved, torn and pillaged," and to make her more powerful, he would use any means, for to his mind the holiness of the end justified them completely. in this he was sharply rebuked by foreigners who were not as hostile to his means as they were fearful of the end which he propounded. he advocated therefore the constitution of a strong italian state, supported by the sacrifices and by the blood of the citizens, not defended by mercenary troops; well-ordered internally, aggressive and bent on expansion. "weak republics," he said, "have no determination and can never reach a decision." (disc. i. c. ). "weak states were ever dubious in choosing their course, and slow deliberations are always harmful." (disc. i. c. ). and again: "whoso undertakes to govern a multitude either in a régime of liberty or in a monarchy, without previously making sure of those who are hostile to the new order of things builds a short-lived state." (disc. i. c. ). and further on "the dictatorial authority helped and did not harm the roman republic" (disc. i. c. ), and "kings and republics lacking in national troops both for offense and defense should be ashamed of their existence." (disc. i. c. ). and again: "money not only does not protect you but rather it exposes you to plundering assaults. nor can there be a more false opinion than that which says that money is the sinews of war. not money but good soldiers win battles." (disc. i. ii. c. ). "the country must be defended with ignominy or with glory and in either way it is nobly defended." (disc. iii. c. ). "and with dash and boldness people often capture what they never would have obtained by ordinary means." (disc. iii. c. ). machiavelli was not only a great political authority, he taught the mastery of energy and will. fascism learns from him not only its doctrines but its action as well. different from machiavelli's, in mental attitude, in cultural preparation, and in manner of presentation, g.b. vico must yet be connected with the great florentine from whom in a certain way he seems to proceed. in the heyday of "natural law" vico is decidedly opposed to _ius naturale_ and in his attacks against its advocates, grotius, seldenus and pufendorf, he systematically assails the abstract, rationalistic, and utilitarian principles of the xviii century. as montemayor justly says:[ ] "while the 'natural jurists', basing justice and state on utility and interest and grounding human certitude on reason, were striving to draft permanent codes and construct the perfect state, vico strongly asserted the social nature of man, the ethical character of the juridical consciousness and its growth through the history of humanity rather than in sacred history. vico therefore maintains that doctrines must begin with those subjects which take up and explain the entire course of civilization. experience and not ratiocination, history and not reason must help human wisdom to understand the civil and political regimes which were the result not of reason or philosophy, but rather of common sense, or if you will of the social consciousness of man" and farther on (pages - ), "to vico we owe the conception of history in its fullest sense as magistra vitae, the search after the humanity of history, the principle which makes the truth progress with time, the discovery of the political 'course' of nations. it is vico who uttered the eulogy of the patrician 'heroic hearts' of the 'patres patriae' first founders of states, magnanimous defenders of the commonwealth and wise counsellors of politics. to vico we owe the criticism of democracies, the affirmation of their brief existence, of their rapid disintegration at the hands of factions and demagogues, of their lapse first into anarchy, then into monarchy, when their degradation does not make them a prey of foreign oppressors. vico conceived of civil liberty as subjection to law, as just subordination, of the private to the public interests, to the sway of the state. it was vico who sketched modern society as a world of nations each one guarding its own imperium, fighting just and not inhuman wars. in vico therefore we find the condemnation of pacifism, the assertion that right is actualized by bodily force, that without force, right is of no avail, and that therefore 'qui ab iniuriis se tueri non potest servus est.'" it is not difficult to discern the analogies between these affirmations and the fundamental views and the spirit of fascism. nor should we marvel at this similarity. fascism, a strictly italian phenomenon, has its roots in the risorgimento and the risorgimento was influenced undoubtedly by vico. it would be inexact to affirm that the philosophy of vico dominated the risorgimento. too many elements of german, french, and english civilizations had been added to our culture during the first half of the xix century to make this possible, so much so that perhaps vico might have remained unknown to the makers of italian unity if another powerful mind from southern italy, vincenzo cuoco, had not taken it upon himself to expound the philosophy of vico in those very days in which the intellectual preparation of the risorgimento was being carried on. an adequate account of cuoco's doctrines would carry me too far. montemayor, in the article quoted above, gives them considerable attention. he quotes among other things cuoco's arraignment of democracy: "italy has fared badly at the hand of democracy which has withered to their roots the three sacred plants of liberty, unity, and independence. if we wish to see these trees flourish again let us protect them in the future from democracy." the influence of cuoco, an exile at milan, exerted through his writings, his newspaper articles, and vichian propaganda, on the italian patriots is universally recognized. among the regular readers of his _giornale italiano_ we find monti and foscolo. clippings of his articles were treasured by mazzini and manzoni, who often acted as his secretary, called him his "master in politics."[ ] the influence of the italian tradition summed up and handed down by cuoco was felt by mazzini whose interpretation of the function of the citizen as duty and mission is to be connected with vico's doctrine rather than with the philosophic and political doctrines of the french revolution. "training for social duty," said mazzini, "is essentially and logically unitarian. life for it is but a duty, a mission. the norm and definition of such mission can only be found in a collective term superior to all the individuals of the country--in the people, in the nation. if there is a collective mission, a communion of duty ... it can only be represented in the national unity."[ ] and farther on: "the declaration of rights, which all constitutions insist in copying slavishly from the french, express only those of the period ... which considered the individual as the end and pointed out only one half of the problem" and again, "assume the existence of one of those crises that threaten the life of the nation, and demand the active sacrifice of all its sons ... will you ask the citizens to face martyrdom in virtue of their rights? you have taught men that society was solely constituted to guarantee their rights and now you ask them to sacrifice one and all, to suffer and die for the safety of the 'nation?'"[ ] in mazzini's conception of the citizen as instrument for the attainment of the nation's ends and therefore submissive to a higher mission, to the duty of supreme sacrifice, we see the anticipation of one of the fundamental points of the fascist doctrine. unfortunately, the autonomy of the political thought of italy, vigorously established in the works of vico, nobly reclaimed by vincenzo cuoco, kept up during the struggles of the risorgimento in spite of the many foreign influences of that period, seemed to exhaust itself immediately after the unification. italian political thought which had been original in times of servitude, became enslaved in the days of freedom. a powerful innovating movement, issuing from the war and of which fascism is the purest expression, was to restore italian thought in the sphere of political doctrine to its own traditions which are the traditions of rome. this task of intellectual liberation, now slowly being accomplished, is no less important than the political deliverance brought about by the fascist revolution. it is a great task which continues and integrates the risorgimento; it is now bringing to an end, after the cessation of our political servitude, the intellectual dependence of italy. thanks to it, italy again speaks to the world and the world listens to italy. it is a great task and a great deed and it demands great efforts. to carry it through, we must, each one of us, free ourselves of the dross of ideas and mental habits which two centuries of foreign intellectualistic tradition have heaped upon us; we must not only take on a new culture but create for ourselves a new soul. we must methodically and patiently contribute something towards the organic and complete elaboration of our doctrine, at the same time supporting it both at home and abroad with untiring devotion. we ask this effort of renovation and collaboration of all fascists, as well as of all who feel themselves to be italians. after the hour of sacrifice comes the hour of unyielding efforts. to our work, then, fellow countrymen, for the glory of italy! * * * * * footnotes: [footnote : translated from the italian.] [footnote : "civitates quae non reguntur ab uno dissenionibus laborant et absque pace fluctuant. e contrario civitates quae sub uno rege reguntur pace gaudent, iustitia florent et affluentia rerum laetantur." (de reg. princ. i. c. ).] [footnote : "ideo manifustum est, quod multitudo est sicut tyrannuus, quare operationes multitudinis sunt iniustae. ergo non expedit multitudinem dominari." (comm. in polit. l. iii. lectio viii).] [footnote : rivista internazionale di filosofia del diritto v. .] [footnote : montemayor. riv. int. etc. p. .] [footnote : della unità italiana. scritti, vol. iii.] [footnote : i sistemi e la democrazia. scritti, vol. vii.] * * * * * the philosophic basis of fascism by giovanni gentile for the italian nation the world war was the solution of a deep spiritual crisis. they willed and fought it long before they felt and evaluated it. but they willed, fought, felt and evaluated it in a certain spirit which italy's generals and statesmen exploited, but which also worked on them, conditioning their policies and their action. the spirit in question was not altogether clear and self-consistent. that it lacked unanimity was particularly apparent just before and again just after the war when feelings were not subject to war discipline. it was as though the italian character were crossed by two different currents which divided it into two irreconcilable sections. one need think only of the days of italian neutrality and of the debates that raged between interventionists and neutralists. the ease with which the most inconsistent ideas were pressed into service by both parties showed that the issue was not between two opposing political opinions, two conflicting concepts of history, but actually between two different temperaments, two different souls. for one kind of person the important point was to fight the war, either on the side of germany or against germany: but in either event to fight the war, without regard to specific advantages--to fight the war in order that at last the italian nation, created rather by favoring conditions than by the will of its people to be a nation, might receive its test in blood, such a test as only war can bring by uniting all citizens in a single thought, a single passion, a single hope, emphasizing to each individual that all have something in common, something transcending private interests. this was the very thing that frightened the other kind of person, the prudent man, the realist, who had a clear view of the mortal risks a young, inexperienced, badly prepared nation would be running in such a war, and who also saw--a most significant point--that, all things considered, a bargaining neutrality would surely win the country tangible rewards, as great as victorious participation itself. the point at issue was just that: the italian neutralists stood for material advantages, advantages tangible, ponderable, palpable; the interventionists stood for moral advantages, intangible, impalpable, imponderable--imponderable at least on the scales used by their antagonists. on the eve of the war these two italian characters stood facing each other, scowling and irreconcilable--the one on the aggressive, asserting itself ever more forcefully through the various organs of public opinion; the other on the defensive, offering resistance through the parliament which in those days still seemed to be the basic repository of state sovereignty. civil conflict seemed inevitable in italy, and civil war was in fact averted only because the king took advantage of one of his prerogatives and declared war against the central powers. this act of the king was the first decisive step toward the solution of the crisis. ii the crisis had ancient origins. its roots sank deep into the inner spirit of the italian people. what were the creative forces of the _risorgimento_? the "italian people," to which some historians are now tending to attribute an important if not a decisive role in our struggle for national unity and independence, was hardly on the scene at all. the active agency was always an idea become a person--it was one or several determined wills which were fixed on determined goals. there can be no question that the birth of modern italy was the work of the few. and it could not be otherwise. it is always the few who represent the self-consciousness and the will of an epoch and determine what its history shall be; for it is they who see the forces at their disposal and through those forces actuate the one truly active and productive force--their own will. that will we find in the song of the poets and the ideas of the political writers, who know how to use a language harmonious with a universal sentiment or with a sentiment capable of becoming universal. in the case of italy, in all our bards, philosophers and leaders, from alfieri to foscolo, from leopardi to manzoni, from mazzini to gioberti, we are able to pick up the threads of a new fabric, which is a new kind of thought, a new kind of soul, a new kind of italy. this new italy differed from the old italy in something that was very simple but yet was of the greatest importance: this new italy took life seriously, while the old one did not. people in every age had dreamed of an italy and talked of an italy. the notion of italy had been sung in all kinds of music, propounded in all kinds of philosophy. but it was always an italy that existed in the brain of some scholar whose learning was more or less divorced from reality. now reality demands that convictions be taken seriously, that ideas become actions. accordingly it was necessary that this italy, which was an affair of brains only, become also an affair of hearts, become, that is, something serious, something alive. this, and no other, was the meaning of mazzini's great slogan: "thought and action." it was the essence of the great revolution which he preached and which he accomplished by instilling his doctrine into the hearts of others. not many others--a small minority! but they were numerous enough and powerful enough to raise the question where it could be answered--in italian public opinion (taken in conjunction with the political situation prevailing in the rest of europe). they were able to establish the doctrine that life is not a game, but a mission; that, therefore, the individual has a law and a purpose in obedience to which and in fulfillment of which he alone attains his true value; that, accordingly, he must make sacrifices, now of personal comfort, now of private interest, now of life itself. no revolution ever possessed more markedly than did the italian _risorgimento_ this characteristic of ideality, of thought preceding action. our revolt was not concerned with the material needs of life, nor did it spring from elementary and widely diffused sentiments breaking out in popular uprisings and mass disturbances. the movements of and were demonstrations, as we would say today, of "intellectuals"; they were efforts toward a goal on the part of a minority of patriots who were standard bearers of an ideal and were driving governments and peoples toward its attainment. idealism--understood as faith in the advent of an ideal reality, as a manner of conceiving life not as fixed within the limits of existing fact, but as incessant progress and transformation toward the level of a higher law which controls men with the very force of the idea--was the sum and substance of mazzini's teaching; and it supplied the most conspicuous characteristic of our great italian revolution. in this sense all the patriots who worked for the foundation of the new kingdom were mazzinians--gioberti, cavour, victor emmanuel, garibaldi. to be sure, our writers of the first rank, such as manzoni and rosmini, had no historical connection with mazzini; but they had the same general tendency as mazzini. working along diverging lines, they all came together on the essential point: that true life is not the life which is, but also the life which ought to be. it was a conviction essentially religious in character, essentially anti-materialistic. iii this religious and idealistic manner of looking at life, so characteristic of the _risorgimento_, prevails even beyond the heroic age of the revolution and the establishment of the kingdom. it survives down through ricasoli, lanza, sella and minghetti, down, that is, to the occupation of rome and the systemization of our national finances. the parliamentary overturn of , indeed, marks not the end, but rather an interruption, on the road that italy had been following since the beginning of the century. the outlook then changed, and not by the capriciousness or weakness of men, but by a necessity of history which it would be idiotic in our day to deplore. at that time the fall of the right, which had ruled continuously between and , seemed to most people the real conquest of freedom. to be sure the right cannot be accused of too great scruple in respecting the liberties guaranteed by our constitution; but the real truth was that the right conceived liberty in a sense directly opposite to the notions of the left. the left moved from the individual to the state: the right moved from the state to the individual. the men of the left thought of "the people" as merely the agglomerate of the citizens composing it. they therefore made the individual the center and the point of departure of all the rights and prerogatives which a régime of freedom was bound to respect. the men of the right, on the contrary, were firmly set in the notion that no freedom can be conceived except within the state, that freedom can have no important content apart from a solid régime of law indisputably sovereign over the activities and the interests of individuals. for the right there could be no individual freedom not reconcilable with the authority of the state. in their eyes the general interest was always paramount over private interests. the law, therefore, should have absolute efficacy and embrace the whole life of the people. this conception of the right was evidently sound; but it involved great dangers when applied without regard to the motives which provoked it. unless we are careful, too much law leads to stasis and therefore to the annihilation of the life which it is the state's function to regulate but which the state cannot suppress. the state may easily become a form indifferent to its content--something extraneous to the substance it would regulate. if the law comes upon the individual from without, if the individual is not absorbed in the life of the state, the individual feels the law and the state as limitations on his activity, as chains which will eventually strangle him unless he can break them down. this was just the feeling of the men of ' . the country needed a breath of air. its moral, economic, and social forces demanded the right to develop without interference from a law which took no account of them. this was the historical reason for the overturn of that year; and with the transference of power from right to left begins the period of growth and development in our nation: economic growth in industry, commerce, railroads, agriculture; intellectual growth in science, education. the nation had received its form from above. it had now to struggle to its new level, giving to a state which already had its constitution, its administrative and political organization, its army and its finance, a living content of forces springing from individual initiative prompted by interests which the _risorgimento_, absorbed in its great ideals, had either neglected or altogether disregarded. the accomplishment of this constitutes the credit side of the balance sheet of king humbert i. it was the error of king humbert's greatest minister, francesco crispi, not to have understood his age. crispi strove vigorously to restore the authority and the prestige of the state as against an individualism gone rampant, to reassert religious ideals as against triumphant materialism. he fell, therefore, before the assaults of so-called democracy. crispi was wrong. that was not the moment for re-hoisting the time-honored banner of idealism. at that time there could be no talk of wars, of national dignity, of competition with the great powers; no talk of setting limits to personal liberties in the interests of the abstract entity called "state." the word "god," which crispi sometimes used, was singularly out of place. it was a question rather of bringing the popular classes to prosperity, self-consciousness, participation in political life. campaigns against illiteracy, all kinds of social legislation, the elimination of the clergy from the public schools, which must be secular and anti-clerical! during this period freemasonry became solidly established in the bureaucracy, the army, the judiciary. the central power of the state was weakened and made subservient to the fleeting variations of popular will as reflected in a suffrage absolved from all control from above. the growth of big industry favored the rise of a socialism of marxian stamp as a new kind of moral and political education for our proletariat. the conception of humanity was not indeed lost from view: but such moral restraints as were placed on the free individual were all based on the feeling that each man must instinctively seek his own well-being and defend it. this was the very conception which mazzini had fought in socialism, though he rightly saw that it was not peculiar to socialism alone, but belonged to any political theory, whether liberal, democratic, or anti-socialistic, which urges men toward the exaction of rights rather than to the fulfillment of duties. from till the great war, accordingly, we had an italy that was materialistic and anti-mazzinian, though an italy far superior to the italy of and before mazzini's time. all our culture, whether in the natural or the moral sciences, in letters or in the arts, was dominated by a crude positivism, which conceived of the reality in which we live as something given, something ready-made, and which therefore limits and conditions human activity quite apart from so-called arbitrary and illusory demands of morality. everybody wanted "facts," "positive facts." everybody laughed at "metaphysical dreams," at impalpable realities. the truth was there before the eyes of men. they had only to open their eyes to see it. the beautiful itself could only be the mirror of the truth present before us in nature. patriotism, like all the other virtues based on a religious attitude of mind, and which can be mentioned only when people have the courage to talk in earnest, became a rhetorical theme on which it was rather bad taste to touch. this period, which anyone born during the last half of the past century can well remember, might be called the demo-socialistic phase of the modern italian state. it was the period which elaborated the characteristically democratic attitude of mind on a basis of personal freedom, and which resulted in the establishment of socialism as the primary and controlling force in the state. it was a period of growth and of prosperity during which the moral forces developed during the _risorgimento_ were crowded into the background or off the stage. iv but toward the end of the nineteenth century and in the first years of the twentieth a vigorous spirit of reaction began to manifest itself in the young men of italy against the preceding generation's ideas in politics, literature, science and philosophy. it was as though they were weary of the prosaic bourgeois life which they had inherited from their fathers and were eager to return to the lofty moral enthusiasms of their grandfathers. rosmini and gioberti had been long forgotten. they were now exhumed, read, discussed. as for mazzini, an edition of his writings was financed by the state itself. vico, the great vico, a formidable preacher of idealistic philosophy and a great anti-cartesian and anti-rationalist, became the object of a new cult. positivism began forthwith to be attacked by neo-idealism. materialistic approaches to the study of literature and art were refuted and discredited. within the church itself modernism came to rouse the italian clergy to the need of a deeper and more modern culture. even socialism was brought under the philosophical probe and criticized like other doctrines for its weaknesses and errors; and when, in france, george sorel went beyond the fallacies of the materialistic theories of the marxist social-democracy to his theory of syndicalism, our young italian socialists turned to him. in sorel's ideas they saw two things: first, the end of a hypocritical "collaborationism" which betrayed both proletariat and nation; and second, faith in a moral and ideal reality for which it was the individual's duty to sacrifice himself, and to defend which, even violence was justified. the anti-parliamentarian spirit and the moral spirit of syndicalism brought italian socialists back within the mazzinian orbit. of great importance, too, was nationalism, a new movement then just coming to the fore. our italian nationalism was less literary and more political in character than the similar movement in france, because with us it was attached to the old historic right which had a long political tradition. the new nationalism differed from the old right in the stress it laid on the idea of "nation"; but it was at one with the right in regarding the state as the necessary premise to the individual rights and values. it was the special achievement of nationalism to rekindle faith in the nation in italian hearts, to arouse the country against parliamentary socialism, and to lead an open attack on freemasonry, before which the italian bourgeoisie was terrifiedly prostrating itself. syndicalists, nationalists, idealists succeeded, between them, in bringing the great majority of italian youth back to the spirit of mazzini. official, legal, parliamentary italy, the italy that was anti-mazzinian and anti-idealistic, stood against all this, finding its leader in a man of unfailing political intuition, and master as well of the political mechanism of the country, a man sceptical of all high-sounding words, impatient of complicated concepts, ironical, cold, hard-headed, practical--what mazzini would have called a "shrewd materialist." in the persons, indeed, of mazzini and giolitti, we may find a picture of the two aspects of pre-war italy, of that irreconcilable duality which paralyzed the vitality of the country and which the great war was to solve. v the effect of the war seemed at first to be quite in an opposite sense--to mark the beginning of a general _débâcle_ of the italian state and of the moral forces that must underlie any state. if entrance into the war had been a triumph of ideal italy over materialistic italy, the advent of peace seemed to give ample justification to the neutralists who had represented the latter. after the armistice our allies turned their backs upon us. our victory assumed all the aspects of a defeat. a defeatist psychology, as they say, took possession of the italian people and expressed itself in hatred of the war, of those responsible for the war, even of our army which had won our war. an anarchical spirit of dissolution rose against all authority. the ganglia of our economic life seemed struck with mortal disease. labor ran riot in strike after strike. the very bureaucracy seemed to align itself against the state. the measure of our spiritual dispersion was the return to power of giolitti--the execrated neutralist--who for five years had been held up as the exponent of an italy which had died with the war. but, curiously enough, it was under giolitti that things suddenly changed in aspect, that against the giolittian state a new state arose. our soldiers, our genuine soldiers, men who had willed our war and fought it in full consciousness of what they were doing, had the good fortune to find as their leaders a man who could express in words things that were in all their hearts and who could make those words audible above the tumult. mussolini had left italian socialism in in order to be a more faithful interpreter of "the italian people" (the name he chose for his new paper). he was one of those who saw the necessity of our war, one of those mainly responsible for our entering the war. already as a socialist he had fought freemasonry; and, drawing his inspiration from sorel's syndicalism, he had assailed the parliamentary corruption of reformist socialism with the idealistic postulates of revolution and violence. then, later, on leaving the party and in defending the cause of intervention, he had come to oppose the illusory fancies of proletarian internationalism with an assertion of the infrangible integrity, not only moral but economic as well, of the national organism, affirming therefore the sanctity of country for the working classes as for other classes. mussolini was a mazzinian of that pure-blooded breed which mazzini seemed somehow always to find in the province of romagna. first by instinct, later by reflection, mussolini had come to despise the futility of the socialists who kept preaching a revolution which they had neither the power nor the will to bring to pass even under the most favorable circumstances. more keenly than anyone else he had come to feel the necessity of a state which would be a state, of a law which would be respected as law, of an authority capable of exacting obedience but at the same time able to give indisputable evidence of its worthiness so to act. it seemed incredible to mussolini that a country capable of fighting and winning such a war as italy had fought and won should be thrown into disorder and held at the mercy of a handful of faithless politicians. when mussolini founded his fasci in milan in march, , the movement toward dissolution and negation that featured the post-war period in italy had virtually ceased. the fasci made their appeal to italians who, in spite of the disappointments of the peace, continued to believe in the war, and who, in order to validate the victory which was the proof of the war's value, were bent on recovering for italy that control over her own destinies which could come only through a restoration of discipline and a reorganization of social and political forces. from the first, the fascist party was not one of believers but of action. what it needed was not a platform of principles, but an idea which would indicate a goal and a road by which the goal could be reached. the four years between and inclusive were characterized by the development of the fascist revolution through the action of "the squads." the fascist "squads" were really the force of a state not yet born but on the way to being. in its first period, fascist "squadrism" transgressed the law of the old régime because it was determined to suppress that régime as incompatible with the national state to which fascism was aspiring. the march on rome was not the beginning, it was the end of that phase of the revolution; because, with mussolini's advent to power, fascism entered the sphere of legality. after october , , fascism was no longer at war with the state; it _was_ the state, looking about for the organization which would realize fascism as a concept of state. fascism already had control of all the instruments necessary for the upbuilding of a new state. the italy of giolitti had been superceded, at least so far as militant politics were concerned. between giolitti's italy and the new italy there flowed, as an imaginative orator once said in the chamber, "a torrent of blood" that would prevent any return to the past. the century-old crisis had been solved. the war at last had begun to bear fruit for italy. vi now to understand the distinctive essence of fascism, nothing is more instructive than a comparison of it with the point of view of mazzini to which i have so often referred. mazzini did have a political conception, but his politic was a sort of integral politic, which cannot be so sharply distinguished from morals, religion, and ideas of life as a whole, as to be considered apart from these other fundamental interests of the human spirit. if one tries to separate what is purely political from his religious beliefs, his ethical consciousness and his metaphysical concepts, it becomes impossible to understand the vast influence which his credo and his propaganda exerted. unless we assume the unity of the whole man, we arrive not at the clarification but at the destruction of those ideas of his which proved so powerful. in the definition of fascism, the first point to grasp is the comprehensive, or as fascists say, the "totalitarian" scope of its doctrine, which concerns itself not only with political organization and political tendency, but with the whole will and thought and feeling of the nation. there is a second and equally important point. fascism is not a philosophy. much less is it a religion. it is not even a political theory which may be stated in a series of formulae. the significance of fascism is not to be grasped in the special theses which it from time to time assumes. when on occasion it has announced a program, a goal, a concept to be realized in action, fascism has not hesitated to abandon them when in practice these were found to be inadequate or inconsistent with the principle of fascism. fascism has never been willing to compromise its future. mussolini has boasted that he is a _tempista_, that his real pride is in "good timing." he makes decisions and acts on them at the precise moment when all the conditions and considerations which make them feasible and opportune are properly matured. this is a way of saying that fascism returns to the most rigorous meaning of mazzini's "thought and action," whereby the two terms are so perfectly coincident that no thought has value which is not already expressed in action. the real "views" of the _duce_ are those which he formulates and executes at one and the same time. is fascism therefore "anti-intellectual," as has been so often charged? it is eminently anti-intellectual, eminently mazzinian, that is, if by intellectualism we mean the divorce of thought from action, of knowledge from life, of brain from heart, of theory from practice. fascism is hostile to all utopian systems which are destined never to face the test of reality. it is hostile to all science and all philosophy which remain matters of mere fancy or intelligence. it is not that fascism denies value to culture, to the higher intellectual pursuits by which thought is invigorated as a source of action. fascist anti-intellectualism holds in scorn a product peculiarly typical of the educated classes in italy: the _leterato_--the man who plays with knowledge and with thought without any sense of responsibility for the practical world. it is hostile not so much to culture as to bad culture, the culture which does not educate, which does not make men, but rather creates pedants and aesthetes, egotists in a word, men morally and politically indifferent. it has no use, for instance, for the man who is "above the conflict" when his country or its important interests are at stake. by virtue of its repugnance for "intellectualism," fascism prefers not to waste time constructing abstract theories about itself. but when we say that it is not a system or a doctrine we must not conclude that it is a blind praxis or a purely instinctive method. if by system or philosophy we mean a living thought, a principle of universal character daily revealing its inner fertility and significance, then fascism is a perfect system, with a solidly established foundation and with a rigorous logic in its development; and all who feel the truth and the vitality of the principle work day by day for its development, now doing, now undoing, now going forward, now retracing their steps, according as the things they do prove to be in harmony with the principle or to deviate from it. and we come finally to a third point. the fascist system is not a political system, but it has its center of gravity in politics. fascism came into being to meet serious problems of politics in post-war italy. and it presents itself as a political method. but in confronting and solving political problems it is carried by its very nature, that is to say by its method, to consider moral, religious, and philosophical questions and to unfold and demonstrate the comprehensive totalitarian character peculiar to it. it is only after we have grasped the political character of the fascist principle that we are able adequately to appreciate the deeper concept of life which underlies that principle and from which the principle springs. the political doctrine of fascism is not the whole of fascism. it is rather its more prominent aspect and in general its most interesting one. vii the politic of fascism revolves wholly about the concept of the national state; and accordingly it has points of contact with nationalist doctrines, along with distinctions from the latter which it is important to bear in mind. both fascism and nationalism regard the state as the foundation of all rights and the source of all values in the individuals composing it. for the one as for the other the state is not a consequence--it is a principle. but in the case of nationalism, the relation which individualistic liberalism, and for that matter socialism also, assumed between individual and state is inverted. since the state is a principle, the individual becomes a consequence--he is something which finds an antecedent in the state: the state limits him and determines his manner of existence, restricting his freedom, binding him to a piece of ground whereon he was born, whereon he must live and will die. in the case of fascism, state and individual are one and the same things, or rather, they are inseparable terms of a necessary synthesis. nationalism, in fact, founds the state on the concept of nation, the nation being an entity which transcends the will and the life of the individual because it is conceived as objectively existing apart from the consciousness of individuals, existing even if the individual does nothing to bring it into being. for the nationalist, the nation exists not by virtue of the citizen's will, but as datum, a fact, of nature. for fascism, on the contrary, the state is a wholly spiritual creation. it is a national state, because, from the fascist point of view, the nation itself is a creation of the mind and is not a material presupposition, is not a datum of nature. the nation, says the fascist, is never really made; neither, therefore, can the state attain an absolute form, since it is merely the nation in the latter's concrete, political manifestation. for the fascist, the state is always _in fieri_. it is in our hands, wholly; whence our very serious responsibility towards it. but this state of the fascists which is created by the consciousness and the will of the citizen, and is not a force descending on the citizen from above or from without, cannot have toward the mass of the population the relationship which was presumed by nationalism. nationalism identified state with nation, and made of the nation an entity preëxisting, which needed not to be created but merely to be recognized or known. the nationalists, therefore, required a ruling class of an intellectual character, which was conscious of the nation and could understand, appreciate and exalt it. the authority of the state, furthermore, was not a product but a presupposition. it could not depend on the people--rather the people depended on the state and on the state's authority as the source of the life which they lived and apart from which they could not live. the nationalistic state was, therefore, an aristocratic state, enforcing itself upon the masses through the power conferred upon it by its origins. the fascist state, on the contrary, is a people's state, and, as such, the democratic state _par excellence_. the relationship between state and citizen (not this or that citizen, but all citizens) is accordingly so intimate that the state exists only as, and in so far as, the citizen causes it to exist. its formation therefore is the formation of a consciousness of it in individuals, in the masses. hence the need of the party, and of all the instruments of propaganda and education which fascism uses to make the thought and will of the _duce_ the thought and will of the masses. hence the enormous task which fascism sets itself in trying to bring the whole mass of the people, beginning with the little children, inside the fold of the party. on the popular character of the fascist state likewise depends its greatest social and constitutional reform--the foundation of the corporations of syndicates. in this reform fascism took over from syndicalism the notion of the moral and educational function of the syndicate. but the corporations of syndicates were necessary in order to reduce the syndicates to state discipline and make them an expression of the state's organism from within. the corporation of syndicates are a device through which the fascist state goes looking for the individual in order to create itself through the individual's will. but the individual it seeks is not the abstract political individual whom the old liberalism took for granted. he is the only individual who can ever be found, the individual who exists as a specialized productive force, and who, by the fact of his specialization, is brought to unite with other individuals of his same category and comes to belong with them to the one great economic unit which is none other than the nation. this great reform is already well under way. toward it nationalism, syndicalism, and even liberalism itself, were already tending in the past. for even liberalism was beginning to criticize the older forms of political representation, seeking some system of organic representation which would correspond to the structural reality of the state. the fascist conception of liberty merits passing notice. the _duce_ of fascism once chose to discuss the theme of "force or consent?"; and he concluded that the two terms are inseparable, that the one implies the other and cannot exist apart from the other; that, in other words, the authority of the state and the freedom of the citizen constitute a continuous circle wherein authority presupposes liberty and liberty authority. for freedom can exist only within the state, and the state means authority. but the state is not an entity hovering in the air over the heads of its citizens. it is one with the personality of the citizen. fascism, indeed, envisages the contrast not as between liberty and authority, but as between a true, a concrete liberty which exists, and an abstract, illusory liberty which cannot exist. liberalism broke the circle above referred to, setting the individual against the state and liberty against authority. what the liberal desired was liberty as against the state, a liberty which was a limitation of the state; though the liberal had to resign himself, as the lesser of the evils, to a state which was a limitation on liberty. the absurdities inherent in the liberal concept of freedom were apparent to liberals themselves early in the nineteenth century. it is no merit of fascism to have again indicated them. fascism has its own solution of the paradox of liberty and authority. the authority of the state is absolute. it does not compromise, it does not bargain, it does not surrender any portion of its field to other moral or religious principles which may interfere with the individual conscience. but on the other hand, the state becomes a reality only in the consciousness of its individuals. and the fascist corporative state supplies a representative system more sincere and more in touch with realities than any other previously devised and is therefore freer than the old liberal state. national socialism basic principles, their application by the nazi party's foreign organization, and the use of germans abroad for nazi aims prepared in the special unit of the division of european affairs by raymond e. murphy francis b. stevens howard trivers joseph m. roland elements of nazi ideology the line of thought which we have traced from herder to the immediate forerunners of the nazi movement embodies an antidemocratic tradition which national socialism has utilized, reduced to simple but relentless terms, and exploited in what is known as the national socialist _weltanschauung_ for the greater aggrandizement of nazi germany. the complete agreement between the nazi ideology and the previously described political concepts of the past is revealed in the forthcoming exposition of the main tenets of naziism. the volk ernst rudolf huber, in his basic work _verfassungsrecht des grossdeutschen reiches (constitutional law of the greater german reich_) (document , _post_ p. ), published in , states: the new constitution of the german reich ... is not a constitution in the formal sense such as was typical of the nineteenth century. the new reich has no written constitutional declaration, but its constitution exists in the unwritten basic political order of the reich. one recognizes it in the spiritual powers which fill our people, in the real authority in which our political life is grounded, and in the basic laws regarding the structure of the state which have been proclaimed so far. the advantage of such an unwritten constitution over the formal constitution is that the basic principles do not become rigid but remain in a constant, living movement. not dead institutions but living principles determine the nature of the new constitutional order.[ ] in developing his thesis huber points out that the national socialist state rests on three basic concepts, the _volk_ or people, the führer, and the movement or party. with reference to the first element, the _volk_, he argues that the democracies develop their concept of the people from the wrong approach: they start with the concept of the state and its functions and consider the people as being made up of all the elements which fall within the borders or under the jurisdiction of the state. national socialism, on the other hand, starts with the concept of the people, which forms a political unity, and builds the state upon this foundation. there is no people without an objective unity, but there is also none without a common consciousness of unity. a people is determined by a number of different factors: by racial derivation and by the character of its land, by language and other forms of life, by religion and history, but also by the common consciousness of its solidarity and by its common will to unity. for the concrete concept of a people, as represented by the various peoples of the earth, it is of decisive significance which of these various factors they regard as determinants for the nature of the people. the new german reich proceeds from the concept of the political people, determined by the natural characteristics and by the historical idea of a closed community. the political people is formed through the uniformity of its natural characteristics. race is the natural basis of the people ... as a political people the natural community becomes conscious of its solidarity and strives to form itself, to develop itself, to defend itself, to realize itself. "nationalism" is essentially this striving of a people which has become conscious of itself toward self-direction and self-realization, toward a deepening and renewing of its natural qualities. this consciousness of self, springing from the consciousness of a historical idea, awakens in a people its will to historical formation: the will to action. the political people is no passive, sluggish mass, no mere object for the efforts of the state at government or protective welfare work ... the great misconception of the democracies is that they can see the active participation of the people only in the form of plebiscites according to the principle of majority. in a democracy the people does not act as a unit but as a complex of unrelated individuals who form themselves into parties ... the new reich is based on the principle that real action of a self-determining people is only possible according to the principle of leadership and following.[ ] according to huber, geographical considerations play a large part in the shaping of a people: the people stands in a double relation, to its lands; it settles and develops the land, but the land also stamps and determines the people ... that a certain territory belongs to a certain people is not justified by state authority alone but it is also determined objectively by its historical, political position. territory is not merely a field for the exercise of state control but it determines the nature of a people and thereby the historical purpose of the state's activity. england's island position, italy's mediterranean position, and germany's central position between east and west are such historical conditions, which unchangeably form the character of the people.[ ] but the new germany is based upon a "unity and entirety of the people"[ ] which does not stop at geographical boundaries: the german people forms a closed community which recognizes no national borders. it is evident that a people has not exhausted its possibilities simply in the formation of a national state but that it represents an independent community which reaches beyond such limits.[ ] the state justifies itself only so far as is helps the people to develop itself more fully. in the words of hitler, quoted by huber from _mein kampf_, "it is a basic principle, therefore, that the state represents not an end but a means. it is a condition for advanced human culture, but not the cause of it ... its purpose is in the maintenance and advancement of a community of human beings with common physical and spiritual characteristics."[ ] huber continues: in the theory of the folk-reich _[völkisches reich_], people and state are conceived as an inseparable unity. the people is the prerequisite for the entire political order; the state does not form the people but the people moulds the state out of itself as the form in which it achieves historical permanence....[ ] the state is a function of the people, but it is not therefore a subordinate, secondary machine which can be used or laid aside at will. it is the form in which the people attains to historical reality. it is the bearer of the historical continuity of the people, which remains the same in the center of its being in spite of all changes, revolutions, and transformations.[ ] a similar interpretation of the role of the _volk_ is expounded by gottfried neesse in his _die nationalsozialistische deutsche arbeiterpartei--versuch einer rechtsdeutung_ (_the national socialist german workers party--an attempt at legal interpretation_), published in . from the national socialist viewpoint, according to neesse, the state is regarded not as an organism superior to the people but as an organization of the people: "in contrast to an organism, an organization has no inherent legality; it is dependent upon human will and has no definite mission of its own. it is a form in which a living mass shapes itself into unity, but it has no life of its own."[ ] the people is the living organism which uses the organization of the state as the form in which it can best fulfil its mission. the law which is inherent in the people must be realized through the state. but the central and basic concept of national socialist political theory is the concept of the people: in contrast to the state, the people form a true organism--a being which leads its own life and follows its own laws, which possesses powers peculiar to itself, and which develops its own nature independent of all state forms.... this living unity of the people has its cells in its individual members, and just as in every body there are certain cells to perform certain tasks, this is likewise the case in the body of the people. the individual is bound to his people not only physically but mentally and spiritually and he is influenced by these ties in all his manifestations.[ ] the elements which go to make up a people are beyond human comprehension, but the most important of them is a uniformity of blood, resulting in "a similarity of nature which manifests itself in a common language and a feeling of community and is further moulded by land and by history."[ ] "the unity of the people is increased by its common destiny and its consciousness of a common mission."[ ] liberalism gave rise to the concept of a "society-people" (_gesellschaftsvolk_) which consisted of a sum of individuals, each of whom was supposed to have an inherent significance and to play his own independent part in the political life of the nation. national socialism, on the other hand, has developed, the concept of the "community-people" (_gemeinschaftsvolk_) which functions as a uniform whole.[ ] the people, however, is never politically active as a whole, but only through those who embody its will. the true will of a people can never be determined by a majority vote. it can only display itself in men and in movements, and history will decide whether these men or movements could rightly claim to be the representatives of the people's will.[ ] every identification of the state with the people is false from a legal and untenable from a political standpoint ... the state is the law-forming organization and the law serves the inner order of the community; the people is the politically active organism and politics serve the outward maintenance of the community ... but law receives its character from the people and politics must reckon with the state as the first and most important factor.[ ] the "nation" is the product of this interplay and balance between the state and the people. the original and vital force of the people, through the organization of the state, realizes itself fully in the unified communal life of the nation: the nation is the complete agreement between organism and organization, the perfect formation of a naturally grown being. ... _nationalism_ is nothing more than the outwardly directed striving to maintain this inner unity of people and state, and _socialism_ is the inwardly directed striving for the same end.[ ] dr. herbert scurla, government councilor and reich's minister for science, education, and folk culture, in a pamphlet entitled _die grundgedanken des nationalsozialismus und das ausland (basic principles of national socialism with special reference to foreign countries_), also emphasizes the importance of the _volk_ in the national socialist state. dr. scurla points out that national socialism does not view the nation in the domocratic sense of a community to which the individual may voluntarily adhere. the central field of force of the national socialist consciousness is rather the folk, and this folk is in no case mere individual aggregation, i.e., collectivity as sum of the individuals, but as a unity with a peculiar two-sidedness, at the same time "essential totality" (m.h. boehm). the folk is both a living creature and a spiritual configuration, in which the individuals are included through common racial conditioning, in blood and spirit. it is that force which works on the individual directly "from within or from the side like a common degree of temperature" (kjellén) and which collects into the folk whatever according to blood and spirit belongs to it. this folk, point of departure and goal at the same time, is, in the national socialist world-view, not only the field of force for political order, but as well the central factor of the entire world-picture. neither individuals, as the epoch of enlightenment envisaged, nor states, as in the system of the dynastic and national state absolutism, nor classes, as conceived by marxism, are the ultimate realities of the political order, but the peoples, who stand over against one another with the unqualifiable right to a separate existence as natural entities, each with its own essential nature and form. [ ] dr. scurla claims that national socialism and fascism are the strivings of the german and italian people for final national unification along essentially different national lines natural to each of them. "what took place in germany," he asserts, "was a political revolution of a total nature."[ ] "under revolution," he states, "we understand rather the penetration of the collective folk-mind [_gesamtvölkischen bewusstseins_] into all regions of german life."[ ] and, he concludes: national socialism is no invented system of rules for the political game, but the world-view of the german people, which experiences itself as a national and social community, and concedes neither to the state nor the class nor the individual any privileges which endanger the security of the community's right to live.[ ] some of the most striking expressions of the race concept are found in _die erziehung im dritten reich_ (_education in the third reich_), by friedrich alfred beck, which was published in . it is worthy of note that the tendency which may be observed in huber (document i, _post_ p. ) and neesse to associate the ideas of _volk_ and race is very marked with beck. "all life, whether natural or spiritual, all historical progress, all state forms, and all cultivation by education are in the last analysis based upon the racial make-up of the people in question."[ ] _race_ finds its expression in human life through the phenomenon of the _people_: _race_ and _people_ belong together. national socialism has restored the concept of the people from its modern shallowness and sees in the people something different from and appreciably greater than a chance social community of men, a grouping of men who have the same external interests. by _people_ we understand an entire living body which is racially uniform and which is held together by common history, common fate, a common mission, and common tasks. through such an interpretation the people takes on a significance which is only attributed to it in times of great historical importance and which makes it the center, the content, and the goal of all human work. only that race still possesses vital energy which can still bring its unity to expression in the totality of the people. the people is the space in which race can develop its strength. race is the vital law of arrangement which gives the people its distinctive form. in the course of time the people undergoes historical transformations, but race prevents the loss of the people's own nature in the course of these transformations. without the people the race has no life; without race the people has no permanence ... education, from the standpoint of race and people, is the creation of a form of life in which the racial unity will be preserved through the totality of the people.[ ] beck describes the politically spiritual national socialist personality which national socialist education seeks to develop, in the following terms: socialism is the direction of personal life through dependence on the community, consciousness of the community, feeling for the community, and action in the community; nationalism is the elevation of individual life to a unique (microcosmic) expression of the community in the unity of the personality.[ ] national socialist education must stress the heroic life and teach german youth the importance of fulfilling their duty to the _volk_. heroism is that force and that conviction which consecrates its whole life to the service of an idea, a faith, a task, or a duty even when it knows that the destruction of its own life is certain ... german life, according to the laws of its ideology, is heroic life ... all german life, every person belonging to the community of germans must bear heroic character within himself. heroic life fulfils itself in the daily work of the miner, the farmer, the clerk, the statesman, and the serving self-sacrifice of the mother. wherever a life is devoted with an all-embracing faith and with its full powers to the service of some value, there is true heroism ... education to the heroic life is education to the fulfilment of duty ... one must have experienced it repeatedly that the inner fruition of a work in one's own life has nothing to do with material or economic considerations, that man keeps all of his faculties alive through his obligation to his work and his devotion to his duty, and that he uses them in the service of an idea without any regard for practical considerations, before one recognizes the difference between this world of heroic self-sacrifice and the liberalistic world of barter. because the younger generation has been brought up in this heroic spirit it is no longer understood by the representatives of the former era who judge the values of life according to material advantage ... german life is heroic life. germany is not a mere community of existence and of interests whose only function is to insure the material and cultural needs of its members, but it also represents an elemental obligation on the part of the members. the eternal germany cannot be drawn in on the map; it does not consist of the constitution or the laws of the state. this germany is the community of those who are solemnly bound together and who experience and realize these eternal national values. this germany is our eternal mission, our most sacred law ... the developing personality must be submerged in the living reality of the people and the nation from earliest youth on, must take an active and a suffering part in it. furthermore the heroic life demands a recognition and experiencing of the highest value of life which man must serve with all his powers. this value can perhaps be recognized and presented theoretically in the schools but it can only be directly comprehended and personally experienced in the community of the people. therefore all education must preserve this _direct connection with the community of the people_ and school education must derive from it the form and substance of its instruction.[ ] this nationalism, which is based upon the laws of life, has nothing in common with the weak and presumptuous patriotism of the liberalistic world; it is not a gift or a favor, not a possession or a privilege, but it is the form of national life which we have won in hard battle and which suits our nordic-german racial and spiritual heritage. in the nationalistic personality the powers and values which have been established in the socialistic personality will be purposefully exerted for the perfection of the temporal and eternal idea of life.[ ] the national socialist idea of totality, therefore, and its manifestation in life of the national community form the principal substance of education in the third reich: this idea of totality must be radically distinguished from the liberalistic conception of the mass. according to the liberalistic interpretation the whole consists of a summation of its parts. according to the national socialist organic conception the whole comes before the parts; it does not arise from the parts but it is already contained in the parts themselves; all parts are microcosmic forms of the whole. this organic conception of the whole is the deepest natural justification of the basic political character of all organic life.[ ] education, beck continues, must present this total unity as it is manifested in the racial character of the people. race is the most essential factor in the natural and spiritual unity of a people, and it is also the main factor which separates one people from another. the racial character of the people must determine the substance of education; this substance must be derived primarily from the life of the people. even in the specialized field of political science, nazi education is concerned not with the structure of the state but with the role of the individual in the life of the people: national socialist political science concerns itself not with education to citizenship but with preparation for membership in the german people.... not the structure of the state but the strength of a people determines the value and the strength of an individual life. the state must be an organization which corresponds to the laws of the people's life and assists in their realization.[ ] such indeed is the supreme goal of all national socialist education: to make each individual an expression of "the eternal german": whoever wishes fully to realize himself, whoever wishes to experience and embody the eternal german ideal within himself must lift his eyes from everyday life and must listen to the beat of his blood and his conscience ... he must be capable of that superhuman greatness which is ready to cast aside all temporal bonds in the battle for german eternity ... national socialist education raises the eternal german character into the light of our consciousness ... national socialism is the eternal law of our german life; the development of the eternal german is the transcendental task of national socialist education.[ ] racial supremacy the theory of the racial supremacy of the nordic, i.e., the german, which was developed by wagner and stewart chamberlain reaches its culmination in the writings of alfred rosenberg, the high priest of nazi racial theory and herald of the _herrenvolk_ (master race). rosenberg developed his ideas in the obscure phraseology of _der mythus des . jahrhunderts_ (_the myth of the twentieth century_) (document , _post_ p. ). "the 'meaning of world history'," he wrote, "has radiated out from the north over the whole world, borne by a blue-eyed blond race which in several great waves determined the spiritual face of the world ... these wander-periods were the legendary migration of the atlantides across north africa, the migration of the aryans into india and persia; the migration of the dorians, macedonians, latins; the migration of the germanic tribes; the colonization of the world by the germanic occident."[ ] he discusses at length indian, persian, greek, roman, and european cultures; in each case, he concludes, the culture is created by the ruling nordic element and declines through the racial decay of the nordics resulting from their intermixture with inferior races. it has long been accepted, rosenberg claims, that all the states of the west and their creative values have been generated by germans; and it follows that if the germanic blood were to vanish away completely in europe all western culture would also fall to ruin. rosenberg acclaims the new faith of the blood which is to replace the non-german religion of christianity. "a _new_ faith is arising today: the myth of the blood, the faith to defend with the blood the divine essence of man. the faith, embodied in clearest knowledge, that the nordic blood represents that _mysterium_ which has replaced and overcome the old sacraments."[ ] rosenberg accepts the classic german view of the _volk_, which he relates closely to the concept of race. "the state is nowadays no longer an independent idol, before which everything must bow down; the state is not even an end but is only a means for the preservation of the folk ... forms of the state change, and laws of the state pass away; the folk remains. from this alone follows that the nation is the first and _last_, that to which everything else has to be subordinated."[ ] "the new thought puts folk and race higher than the state and its forms. it declares protection of the folk more important than protection of a religious denomination, a class, the monarchy, or the republic; it sees in treason against the folk a greater crime than high treason against the state."[ ] the essence of rosenberg's racial ideas was incorporated in point of the program of the nazi party, which reads as follows: "none but members of the nation [_volk_] may be citizens of the state. none but those of german blood, whatever their creed, may be members of the nation. no jew, therefore, may be a member of the nation."[ ] after the nazis came to power, this concept was made the basis of the german citizenship law of september , . commenting upon point of the nazi program in his pamphlet, _nature, principles, and aims of the nsdap_, rosenberg wrote: an indispensable differentiation must be made sometime in the german _volk_ consciousness: the right of nationality should not represent something which is received in the cradle as a gift, but should be regarded as a good which must be earned. although every german is a subject of the state, the rights of nationality should only be received when at the age of twenty or twenty-two he has completed his education or his military service or has finished the labor service which he owes to the state and after having given evidence of honorable conduct. the right to nationality, which must be earned, must become an opportunity for every german to strive for complete humanity and achievement in the service of the _volk_. this consciousness, which must always be kept alive, will cause him to regard this earned good quite differently from the way it was regarded in the past and today more than ever. the prevailing concept of state nationality completely ignores the idea of race. according to it whoever has a german passport is a german, whoever has czech documents is a czech, although he may have not a single drop of czech blood in his veins ... national socialism also sees in the nature of the structure and leadership of the state an outflowing of a definite character in the _volk_. if one permits a wholly foreign race--subject to other impulses--to participate therein, the purity of the organic expression is falsified and the existence of the _volk_ is crippled.... this whole concept of the state [parliamentary democracy] is replaced by national socialism with a basically different concept. national socialism recognizes that, although the individual racial strains in german-speaking territory differ, they nevertheless belong to closely related races, and that many mixtures among the members of these different branches have produced new and vital strains, among them the complex but still _german_ man, but that a mixture with the jewish enemy race, which in its whole spiritual and physical structure is basically different and antagonistic and has strong resemblances to the peoples of the near east, can only result in bastardization.[ ] true to the tradition of german imperialism, rosenberg does not confine his ideas of racial supremacy to the germans in the reich alone. he even extends them to the united states, where he envisages the day when the awakening german element will realize its destiny in this country. in _der mythus des . jahrhunderts_, for example, he writes, "after throwing off the worn-out idea upon which it was founded ... i.e., after the destruction of the idea represented by new york, the united states of north america has the great task ... of setting out with youthful energy to put into force the new racial-state idea which a few awakened americans have already foreseen."[ ] this idea was developed at length by the german geopolitician, colin ross. in his book _unser amerika_ (_our america_) (document , _post_ p. ), published in , ross develops the thesis that the german element in the united states has contributed all that is best in american life and civilization and urges it to become conscious of its racial heritage and to prepare for the day when it may take over complete control of the country. reference was made in the preceding section to beck's _education in the third reich_. on the subject of racial supremacy beck points out that certain new branches of learning have been introduced into the national socialist schools and certain old ones have been given a new emphasis. the most important of these are the science of race and the cultivation of race (_rassenkunde und rassenpflege_), which teach the pupil to recognize and develop those racial powers which alone make possible the fullest self-realization in the national community. an awakening of a true racial consciousness in the people should lead to a "qualitative and quantitative" racial refinement of the german people by inducing a procreative process of selection which would reduce the strains of foreign blood in the national body. "german racial consciousness must have pride in the nordic race as its first condition. it must be a feeling of the highest personal pride to belong to the nordic race and to have the possibility and the obligation to work within the german community for the advancement of the nordic race."[ ] beck points out that pupils must be made to realize "that the downfall of the nordic race would mean the collapse of the national tradition, the disintegration of the living community and the destruction of the individual."[ ] under the influence of war developments, which have given the nazis a chance to apply their racial theories in occupied territories, their spokesmen have become increasingly open with regard to the political implications of the folk concept. in an article on "the structure and order of the reich," published late in , ernst rudolf huber wrote, "this folk principle has found its full confirmation for the first time in the events of this war, in which the unity of the folk has been realized to an extent undreamed of through the return to the homeland of territories which had been torn from it and the resettlement of german folk-groups. thus the awakening of germandom to become a political folk has had a twofold result: the unity of the folk-community has risen superior to differences of birth or wealth, of class, rank, or denomination; and the unity of germandom above all state boundaries has been consciously experienced in the european living-space [_siedlungsraum_]."[ ] the führer principle the second pillar of the nazi state is the führer, the infallible leader, to whom his followers owe absolute obedience. the führer principle envisages government of the state by a hierarchy of leaders, each of whom owes unconditional allegiance to his immediate superior and at the same time is the absolute leader in his own particular sphere of jurisdiction. one of the best expositions of the nazi concept of the führer principle is given by huber in his _constitutional law of the greater german reich_ (document , _post_ p. ): the führer-reich of the [german] people is founded on the recognition that the true will of the people cannot be disclosed through parliamentary votes and plebiscites but that the will of the people in its pure and uncorrupted form can only be expressed through the führer. thus a distinction must be drawn between the supposed will of the people in a parliamentary democracy, which merely reflects the conflict of the various social interests, and the true will of the people in the führer-state, in which the collective will of the real political unit is manifested ... the führer is the bearer of the people's will; he is independent of all groups, associations, and interests, but he is bound by laws which are inherent in the nature of his people. in this twofold condition: independence of all factional interests but unconditional dependence on the people, is reflected the true nature of the führer principle. thus the führer has nothing in common with the functionary, the agent, or the exponent who exercises a mandate delegated to him and who is bound to the will of those who appoint him. the führer is no "representative" of a particular group whose wishes he must carry out. he is no "organ" of the state in the sense of a mere executive agent. he is rather himself the bearer of the collective will of the people. in his will the will of the people is realized. he transforms the mere feelings of the people into a conscious will ... thus it is possible for him, in the name of the true will of the people which he serves, to go against the subjective opinions and convictions of single individuals within the people if these are not in accord with the objective destiny of the people ... he shapes the collective will of the people within himself and he embodies the political unity and entirety of the people in opposition to individual interests ... but the führer, even as the bearer of the people's will, is not arbitrary and free of all responsibility. his will is not the subjective, individual will of a single man, but the collective national will is embodied within him in all its objective, historical greatness ... such a collective will is not a fiction, as is the collective will of the democracies, but it is a political reality which finds its expression in the führer. the people's collective will has its foundation in the political idea which is given to a people. it is present in the people, but the führer raises it to consciousness and discloses it ... in the führer are manifested also the natural laws inherent in the people: it is he who makes them into a code governing all national activity. in disclosing these natural laws he sets up the great ends which are to be attained and draws up the plans for the utilization of all national powers in the achievement of the common goals. through his planning and directing he gives the national life its true purpose and value. this directing and planning activity is especially manifested in the lawgiving power which lies in the führer's hand. the great change in significance which the law has undergone is characterized therein that it no longer sets up the limits of social life, as in liberalistic times, but that it drafts the plans and the aims of the nation's actions ... the führer principle rests upon unlimited authority but not upon mere outward force. it has often been said, but it must constantly be repeated, that the führer principle has nothing in common with arbitrary bureaucracy and represents no system of brutal force, but that it can only be maintained by mutual loyalty which must find its expression in a free relation. the führer-order depends upon the responsibility of the following, just as it counts on the responsibility and loyalty of the führer to his mission and to his following ... there is no greater responsibility than that upon which the führer principle is grounded.[ ] the nature of the plebiscites which are held from time to time in a national socialist state, huber points out, cannot be understood from a democratic standpoint. their purpose is not to give the people an opportunity to decide some issue but rather to express their unity behind a decision which the führer, in his capacity as the bearer of the people's will, has already made: that the will of the people is embodied in the führer does not exclude the possibility that the führer can summon all members of the people to a plebiscite on a certain question. in this "asking of the people" the führer does not, of course, surrender his decisive power to the voters. the purpose of the plebiscite is not to let the people act in the führer's place or to replace the führer's decision with the result of the plebiscite. its purpose is rather to give the whole people an opportunity to demonstrate and proclaim its support of an aim announced by the führer. it is intended to solidify the unity and agreement between the objective people's will embodied in the führer and the living, subjective conviction of the people as it exists in the individual members ... this approval of the führer's decision is even more clear and effective if the plebiscite is concerned with an aim which has already been realized rather than with a mere intention.[ ] huber states that the reichstag elections in the third reich have the same character as the plebiscites. the list of delegates is made up by the führer and its approval by the people represents an expression of renewed and continued faith in him. the reichstag no longer has any governing or lawgiving powers but acts merely as a sounding board for the führer: it would be impossible for a law to be introduced and acted upon in the reichstag which had not originated with the führer or, at least, received his approval. the procedure is similar to that of the plebiscite: the lawgiving power does not rest in the reichstag; it merely proclaims through its decision its agreement with the will of the führer, who is the lawgiver of the german people.[ ] huber also shows how the position of the führer developed from the nazi party movement: the office of the führer developed out of the national socialist movement. it was originally not a state office; this fact can never be disregarded if one is to understand the present legal and political position of the führer. the office of the führer first took root in the structure of the reich when the führer took over the powers of the chancelor, and then when he assumed the position of the chief of state. but his primary significance is always as leader of the movement; he has absorbed within himself the two highest offices of the political leadership of the reich and has created thereby the new office of "führer of the people and the reich." that is not a superficial grouping together of various offices, functions, and powers ... it is not a union of offices but a unity of office. the führer does not unite the old offices of chancelor and president side by side within himself, but he fills a new, unified office.[ ] the führer unites in himself all the sovereign authority of the reich; all public authority in the state as well as in the movement is derived from the authority of the führer. we must speak not of the state's authority but of the führer's authority if we wish to designate the character of the political authority within the reich correctly. the state does not hold political authority as an impersonal unit but receives it from the führer as the executor of the national will. the authority of the führer is complete and all-embracing; it unites in itself all the means of political direction; it extends into all fields of national life; it embraces the entire people, which is bound to the führer in loyalty and obedience. the authority of the führer is not limited by checks and controls, by special autonomous bodies or individual rights, but it is free and independent, all-inclusive and unlimited. it is not, however, self-seeking or arbitrary and its ties are within itself. it is derived from the people; that is, it is entrusted to the führer by the people. it exists for the people and has its justification in the people; it is free of all outward ties because it is in its innermost nature firmly bound up with the fate, the welfare, the mission, and the honor of the people.[ ] neesse, in his _the national socialist german workers party--an attempt at legal interpretation_, emphasizes the importance of complete control by the party leadership over all branches of the government. he says there must be no division of power in the nazi state to interfere with the leader's freedom of action. thus the führer becomes the administrative head, the lawgiver, and the highest authority of justice in one person. this does not mean that he stands above the law. "the führer may be outwardly independent, but inwardly he obeys the same laws as those he leads."[ ] the _leadership_ (_führung_) in the nazi state is not to be compared with the _government_ or _administration_ in a democracy: _führung_ is not, like government, the highest organ of the state, which has grown out of the order of the state, but it receives its legitimation, its call, and its mission from the people ...[ ] the people cannot as a rule announce its will by means of majority votes but only through its embodiment in one man, or in a few men. the principle of the _identity_ of the ruler and those who are ruled, of the government and those who are governed has been very forcibly represented as the principle of democracy. but this identity ... becomes mechanistic and superficial if one seeks to establish it in the theory that the people are at once the governors and the governed ... a true organic identity is only possible when the great mass of the people recognizes its embodiment in one man and feels itself to be one nature with him ... most of the people will never exercise their governing powers but only wish to be governed justly and well ... national socialist _führung_ sees no value in trying to please a majority of the people, but its every action is dictated by service to the welfare of the people, even though a majority would not approve it. the mission of the _führung_ is received from the people, but the fulfilment of this mission and the exercise of power are free and must be free, for however surely and forcefully a healthy people may be able to make decisions in the larger issues of its destiny, its decisions in all smaller matters are confused and uncertain. for this reason, _führung_ must be free in the performance of its task ... the führer does not stand for himself alone and can be understood not of himself, but only from the idea of a work to be accomplished ... both the führer and his following are subject to the idea which they serve; both are of the same substance, the same spirit, and the same blood. the despot knows only subjects whom he uses or, at best, for whom he cares. but the first consideration of the führer is not his own advantage nor even, at bottom, the welfare of the people, but only service to the mission, the idea, and the purpose to which führer and following alike are consecrated.[ ] the supreme position of adolf hitler as führer of the reich, which huber and neesse emphasize in the preceding quotations, is also stressed in the statements of high nazi officials. for example, dr. frick, the german minister of the interior, in an article entitled "germany as a unitary state," which is included in a book called _germany speaks_, published in london in , states: the unity of the party and the state finds its highest realization in the person of the leader and chancelor who ... combines the offices of president and chancelor. he is the leader of the national socialist party, the political head of the state and the supreme commander of the defense forces.[ ] it is interesting to note that, notwithstanding the generally recognized view as expressed in the preceding citations that the authority of the führer is supreme, hitler found it necessary in april to ask the reichstag to confirm his power to be able at any time, if necessary, to urge any german to fulfil his obligations by all means which appear to the führer appropriate in the interests of the successful prosecution of the war.[ ] (the text of the resolution adopted by the reichstag is included as document , _post_ p. .) great emphasis is placed by the nazi leaders on the infallibility of the führer and the duty of obedience of the german people. in a speech on june , , for instance, robert ley, director of the party organization, said, "germany must obey like a well-trained soldier: the führer, adolf hitler, is always right." developing the same idea, ley wrote in an article in the _angriff_ on april , (document , _post_ p. ): "right is what serves my people; wrong is what damages it. i am born a german and have, therefore, only one holy mission: work for my people and take care of it." and with reference to the position of hitler, ley wrote: the national socialist party is hitler, and hitler is the party. the national socialists believe in hitler, who embodies their will. therefore our conscience is clearly and exactly defined. only what adolf hitler, our führer, commands, allows, or does not allow is our conscience. _we have no understanding for him who hides behind an anonymous conscience, behind god, whom everybody conceives according to his own wishes._ these ideas of the führer's infallibility and the duty of obedience are so fundamental in fact that they are incorporated as the first two commandments for party members. these are set forth in the _organisationsbuch der nsdap_ (_nazi party organization book_) for , page (document , _post_ p. ). the first commandment is "the führer is always right!" and the second is "never go against discipline!" in view of the importance attached to the führer principle by the nazis, it is only natural that youth should be intensively indoctrinated with this idea. neesse points out that one of the most important tasks of the party is the formation of a "select group" or elite which will form the leaders of the future: a party such as the nsdap, which is responsible to history for the future of the german reich, cannot content itself with the hope for future leaders but must create a strain of strong and true personalities which should offer the constantly renewed possibility of replacing leaders whenever it is necessary.[ ] beck, in his work _education in the third reich_, also insists that a respect for the führer principle be inculcated in youth: the educational value of the hitler youth is to be found in this community spirit which cannot be taught but can only be experienced ... but this cultivation of the community spirit through the experience of the community must, in order to avoid any conception of individual equality which is inconsistent with the german view of life, be based upon inward and outward recognition of the führer principle ... in the hitler youth, the young german should learn by experience that there are no theoretical equal rights of the individual but only a natural and unconditional subordination to leadership.[ ] german writers often pretend that the führer principle does not necessarily result in the establishment of a dictatorship but that it permits the embodiment of the will of the people in its leaders and the realization of the popular will much more efficiently than is possible in democratic states. such an argument, for example, is presented by dr. paul ritterbusch in _demokratie und diktatur_ (_democracy and dictatorship_), published in . professor ritterbusch claims that communism leads to a dictatorial system but that the nazi movement is much closer to the ideals of true democracy. the real nature of national socialism, however, cannot be understood from the standpoint of the "pluralistic-party state." it does not represent a dictatorship of one party and a suppression of all others but rather an expression of the will and the character of the whole national community in and through one great party which has resolved all internal discords and oppositions within itself. the führer of this great movement is at once the leader and the expression of the national will. freed from the enervating effects of internal strife, the movement under the guiding hand of the führer can bring the whole of the national community to its fullest expression and highest development. the highest authority, however, hitler himself, has left no doubt as to the nature of nazi party leaders. in a speech delivered at the sportpalast in berlin on april , , he said: when our opponents say: "it is easy for you: you are a dictator"--we answer them, "no, gentlemen, you are wrong; there is no single dictator, but ten thousand, each in his own place." and even the highest authority in the hierarchy has itself only one wish, never to transgress against the supreme authority to which it, too, is responsible. we have in our movement developed this loyalty in following the leader, this blind obedience of which all the others know nothing and which gave to us the power to surmount everything.[ ] as has been indicated above, the führer principle applies not only to the führer of the reich, adolf hitler, but to all the subordinate leaders of the party and the government apparatus. with respect to this aspect of the führer principle, huber (document , _post_ p. ), says: the ranks of the public services are regarded as forces organized on the living principle of leadership and following: the authority of command exercised in the labor service, the military service, and the civil service is führer-authority ... it has been said of the military and civil services that true leadership is not represented in their organization on the principles of command and obedience. in reality there can be no political leadership which does not have recourse to command and force as the means for the accomplishment of its ends. command and force do not, of course, constitute the true nature of leadership, but as a means they are indispensable elements of every fully developed führer-order.[ ] the führer principle is officially recognized by the party, and the party interpretation thereof is set forth in the _party organization book_ (document and charts and -a, _post_ pp. , , ). there are also included herein, as charts and -a and and -a (_post_ pp. , , , ), photostatic copies and translations of two charts from _der nationalsozialistische staat_ (_the national socialist state_) by dr. walther gehl, published in . these charts clearly show the concentration of authority in the führer and the subordinate relation of the minor leaders in both the state and the party. the party: leadership by an elite class _ . functions of the party_ the third pillar of the nazi state, the link between _volk_ and führer, is the nazi party. according to nazi ideology, all authority within the nation is derived ultimately from the people, but it is the party through which the people expresses itself. in _rechtseinrichtungen und rechtsaufgaben der bewegung_ (_legal organization and legal functions of the movement_) (document , _post_ p. ), published in , otto gauweiler states: the will of the german people finds its expression in the party as the political organization of the people. it represents the political conception, the political conscience, and the political will. it is the expression and the organ of the people's creative will to life. it comprises a select part of the german people for "only the best germans should be party members" ... the inner organization of the party must therefore bring the national life which is concentrated within itself to manifestation and development in all the fields of national endeavor in which the party is represented.[ ] gauweiler defines the relationship of the party to the state in the following terms: the party stands above and beside the state as the wielder of an authority derived from the people with its own sovereign powers and its own sphere of sovereignty ... the legal position of the party is therefore that of a completely sovereign authority whose legal supremacy and self-sufficiency rest upon the original independent political authority which the führer and the movement have attained as a result of their historical achievements.[ ] neesse states that "it will be the task of national socialism to lead back the german people to an organic structure which proceeds from a recognition of the differences in the characters and possibilities of human beings without permitting this recognition to lead to a cleavage of the people into two camps."[ ] this task is the responsibility of the party. although it has become the only political party in germany, the party does not desire to identify itself with the state. it does not wish to dominate the state or to serve it. it works beside it and cooperates with it. in this respect, nazi germany is distinguished from the other one-party states of europe: "in the one-party state of russia, the party rules over the state; in the one-party state of italy, the party serves the state; but in the one-party state of germany, the party neither serves the state nor rules over it directly but works and struggles together with it for the community of the people."[ ] neesse contends that the party derives its legal basis from the law inherent in the living organism of the german _volk_: the inner law of the nsdap is none other than the inner law of the german people. the party arises from the people; it has formed an organization which crystallizes about itself the feelings of the people, which seemed buried, and the strength of the people, which seemed lost.[ ] neesse states that the party has two great tasks--to insure the continuity of national leadership and to preserve the unity of the _volk_: the first main task of the party, which is in keeping with its organic nature, is to protect the national socialist idea and to constantly renew it by drawing from the depths of the german soul, to keep it pure and clear, and to pass it on thus to coming generations: this is predominantly a matter of education of the people. the second great task, which is in keeping with its organizational nature, is to form the people and the state into the unity of the nation and to create for the german national community forms which are ever new and suited to its vital development: this is predominantly a matter of state formation. these two tasks, one of which deals with substance and the other with function, belong together. it is as impossible to separate them as it is to split up the party into organism and organization, form and content.[ ] huber (document , _post_ p. ) describes the tasks of the party in similar terms. he states that the party is charged with the "education of the people to a political people" through the awakening of the political consciousness of each individual; the inculcation of a "uniform political philosophy," that is, the teaching of nazi principles; "the selection of leaders," including the choice and training of especially promising boys to be the führers of the future; and the shaping of the "political will of the people" in accordance with the führer's aims.[ ] the educational tasks of the party are stressed by beck, who develops the idea that the _volk_ can be divided into three main groups, "a supporting, a leading, and a creative class."[ ] it is the duty of the leading class, that is, the party, from which the creative class of leaders is drawn, to provide for the education of the supporting class. every member of the body of the people must belong to the politically supporting class, that is, each one who bears within himself the basic racial, spiritual, and mental values of the people ... here no sort of leading or creative activity is demanded but only a recognition of the leading and creative will ... only those are called to leadership in political life who have recognized the community-bound law of all human life in purest clarity and in the all-embracing extent of its validity and who will place all the powers of their personal lives with the help of a politically moral character in the service of the formation of community life ... from the politically leading class arise the politically creative personalities. these are the mysterious elemental forces which are beyond all explanation by human reason and which through their action and by means of the living idea within them give to the community of the people an expression which is fresh, young, and eternal. here is the fulfilment of the highest and purest political humanity ... the education of the socialist personality is essentially the forming of the politically supporting class within the german people and the encouragement of those political tendencies which make a man a political leader. to educate to political creativeness is just as impossible as to educate to genius. education can only furnish the spiritual atmosphere, can only prepare the spiritual living-space for the politically creative personality by forming a uniform political consciousness in the socialistic personality, and in the development of politically creative personalities it can at the most give special attention to those values of character and spirit which are of decisive importance for the development of this personality.[ ] goebbels in _the nature and form of national socialism_ (document , _post_ p. ) emphasizes the responsibility of the party for the leadership of the state: the party must always continue to represent the hierarchy of national socialist leadership. this minority must always insist upon its prerogative to control the state. it must keep the way open for the german youth which wishes to take its place in this hierarchy. in reality the hierarchy has fewer rights than duties! it is responsible for the leadership of the state and it solemnly relieves the people of this responsibility. it has the duty to control the state in the best interests and to the general welfare of the nation.[ ] dr. frick, german minister of the interior, in his chapter in _germany speaks_ indicates the exclusive position of the party in the third reich: national socialist germany, however, is not merely a unitary state: it is also a unitary nation and its governance is based on the principle of leadership ... in national socialist germany, leadership is in the hands of an organized community, the national socialist party; and as the latter represents the will of the nation, the policy adopted by it in harmony with the vital interests of the nation is at the same time the policy adopted by the country ... the national socialist party is the only political party in germany and therefore the true representative of the people ...[ ] to dr. ley, the party is identical with the führer. as he wrote in the _angriff_ on april , (document , _post_ p. ), "the national socialist party is hitler, and hitler is the party." the role of the party in legislation, in political matters, and in the appointment of government officials is indicated by the führer's decree of may , ,[ ] as amplified by the order of january , , concerning its execution.[ ] (document , _post_ p. ). this order provides that all legislative proposals and proposed laws and decrees, as well as any proposed changes therein, must pass through and receive the approval of the party chancelry. _ . party membership_ details concerning the qualifications and duties of party members are contained in the _party organization book_ for (document , _post_ p. ). membership is finally confirmed by the issuance of a membership card or a membership book. anyone who becomes a party member does not merely join an organization but he becomes a soldier in the german freedom movement and that means much more than just paying his dues and attending the members' meetings. he obligates himself to subordinate his own ego and to place everything he has in the service of the people's cause. only he who is capable of doing this should become a party member. a selection must be made in accordance with this idea. readiness to fight, readiness to sacrifice, and strength of character are the requirements for a good national socialist. small blemishes, such as a false step which someone has made in his youth, should be overlooked; the contribution in the struggle for germany should alone be decisive. the healthy will naturally prevail over the bad if the will to health finds sufficient support in leadership and achievement. admission to the party should not be controlled by the old bourgeois point of view. the party must always represent the elite of the people.[ ] german blood is one of the prerequisites for party membership. the _party organization book_ for (document , _post_ p. ) also states, "only those racial comrades who possess german citizenship are eligible for admission."[ ] party members shall not exceed ten per cent of the german population of the region. "the ideal proportion of the number of party members to the number of racial comrades is set at ten per cent. this proportion is to apply also to the individual province [gau]."[ ] _ . pledges and symbols of allegiance_ party members take an oath of loyalty to the führer in the following terms: "i pledge allegiance to my führer, adolf hitler. i promise at all times to respect and obey him and the leaders whom he appoints over me."[ ] (a) the hitler salute a pledge of allegiance to the führer is also implied in the nazi salute, which is usually accompanied by the greeting, "heil hitler." the phrase _mit deutschen gruss_, which is commonly used as a closing salutation in letters, is another form of the hitler greeting. _knaurs konversations-lexikon_ (_knaur's conversational dictionary_), published in berlin in , contains the following definition: _german greeting_, hitler greeting: by raising the right arm; used by the old germans with the spear as a greeting of arms _[waffengruss]._ communal greeting of the national socialists; introduced into general use in . that this greeting was used by the nazis as early as is demonstrated by a photograph which appeared in _das buch der nsdap, werden, kampf and ziel der nsdap_ (_the book of the nsdap, growth, struggle, and goal of the nsdap_) by walter m. espe (berlin, ), illustration (document , _post_ p. ). in the same book (page in the supplement entitled "_die nsdap_") the following distinction is made between the usual nazi greeting and the storm troopers' salute: while the german greeting consists merely in raising the right hand in any desired manner and represents rather a general comradely greeting, the sa salute is executed, in accordance with the specifications of the sa service regulations, by placing the left hand on the belt and raising the extended right arm. the sa salute is to be given to all higher ranking leaders of the sa and the ss and of the veterans' organization which has been incorporated into the sa, as well as to the army and the national and security police forces. the comradely german greeting is to be exchanged between all equally ranking members of the sa and the ss and members of a corresponding rank in the army, the police, the veterans' organization, the german air-sport league, the hitler youth, the railway guards, and the whole membership of the party so far as they are distinguishable by regulation uniforms. (b) the swastika early in its history the nazi party adopted the swastika banner as its official emblem.[ ] it was designed by hitler himself, who wrote in _mein kampf_: i myself after countless attempts had laid down a final form: a flag with a background of red cloth, having a white circle, and, in its center, a black swastika.... as national socialists we see our program in our flag. in the _red_ we see the social idea of the movement, in the _white_ the nationalistic idea, and in the _swastika_ the fight for the victory of aryan man and at the same time for the victory of the idea of creative work, which in itself always was and always will be anti-semitic.[ ] the swastika banner came into general use after january , as a symbol of allegiance to the hitler regime, but not until two years later was it made the german national flag by the reich flag law of september , .[ ] another law, decreed on april , ,[ ] specified that: the insignia which the nsdap, its formations, and associated organizations use for their officers, their structure, their organization, and their symbols may not be used by other associations either alone or with embellishments. it is interesting to note that party regulations forbid members to use passport photographs in which they appear in party uniform or wearing party insignia and that party members are forbidden to discuss foreign policy with foreigners unless they are officially designated by the führer to do so. the pertinent regulations read: _pass photos on identification cards_ members of the nsdap must not use pass photos which show the holder of any identification card in a uniform of the party or of any of its formations. it is also forbidden to use as pass photos pictures which show the person wearing a party button. * * * * * _conversations with foreigners_ it is forbidden to all party members to engage in discussions of foreign policy with foreigners. only such persons as have been designated by the führer are entitled to do so.[ ] the totalitarian state the weimar constitution, although never formally abrogated by the nazis, was rendered totally ineffectual by two basic laws, promulgated within two months after the seizure of power by the party. the first of these was the "decree of the reich's president for the protection of the people and state" (document -i, _post_ p. ), issued february , , the day after the reichstag was burned down. it suspended "until further notice"[ ] articles of the weimar constitution guaranteeing essential democratic rights of the individual. thus, according to article i of this decree, "restrictions on personal liberty, on the right of free expression of opinion, including freedom of the press, on the right of assembly and the right of association, and violations of the privacy of postal, telegraphic, and telephonic communications, and warrants for house-searches, orders for confiscations as well as restrictions on property, are also permissible beyond the legal limits otherwise prescribed."[ ] the abrogation by the nazis of these fundamental rights of democracy has never been repealed or amended. in fact, this decree represents the presupposition and confirmation of the police sway established throughout germany by the nazis.[ ] the second basic law, known as the "enabling act," the "law to remove the distress of people and state," of march , (document -ii, _post_ p. ), swept away parliamentary government entirely. by abrogating the pertinent articles of the weimar constitution, it enabled the nazi cabinet under hitler's chancelorship to appropriate money and legislate without any responsibility to the reichstag or any obligation to respect the constitution. the dissolution of democracy in germany was sealed by the unification of the authoritarian nazi party with the german state. soon after the party came to power in , steps were taken to effect and secure this unity. the process is described by huber (document , _post_ p. ) as follows: on july , was issued the law against the formation of new parties which raised the nsdap to the only political party in germany [document -iii] ... the overthrow of the old party-state was accompanied by the construction of the new movement-state [_bewegungsstaat_]. out of a political fighting organization the nsdap grew to a community capable of carrying the state and the nation. this process was accomplished step by step in the first months after the national socialist seizure of power. the assumption of the office of chancelor by the führer of the movement formed the basis for this development. various party leaders were appointed as _reichsminister_; the governors of the provinces were national leaders or _gauleiter_ of the party, such as general von epp; the prussian government officials are as a rule _gauleiter_ of the party; the prussian police chiefs are mostly high-ranking sa leaders. by this system of a union of the personnel of the party and state offices the unity of party and state was achieved.[ ] the culmination of this development was reached in the "law to safeguard the unity of party and state," of december , (document -iv, _post_ p. ), which proclaimed the nsdap "the bearer of the german state-idea and indissolubly joined to the state." in order to guarantee the complete cooperation of the party and sa with the public officials, the führer's deputy and the chief of staff of the sa were made members of the cabinet. with regard to the relation between the party and the state, neesse writes: the nsdap is not a structure which stands under direct state control, to which single tasks of public administration are entrusted by the state, but it holds and maintains is claim to totality as the "bearer of the german state-idea" in all fields relating to the community--regardless of how various single functions are divided between the organization of the party and the organization of the state.[ ] to maintain cooperation between the party and state organizations, the highest state offices are given to the men holding the corresponding party offices. gauweiler (document , _post_ p. ) attributes to the party supreme leadership in all phases of national life. thus the state becomes merely an administrative machine which the party has set up in accordance with and for the accomplishment of its aims: as the responsible bearer and shaper of the destiny of the whole german nation the party has created an entirely new state, for that which sought to foist itself upon her as a state was simply the product of a deep human confusion. the state of the past and its political ideal had never satisfied the longing of the german people. the national socialist movement already carried its state within itself at the time of its early struggles. it was able to place the completely formed body of its own state at the disposal of the state which it had taken over.[ ] the official party interpretation of the relation between party and state, as set forth in the _party organization book_ for , appears in the appendix as document (_post_ p. ). goebbels in his lecture on _the nature and form of national socialism_ (document , _post_ p. ) stressed the importance of _gleichschaltung_ or the penetration of nazi ideology into all fields of national life. this to his mind must be the result of the national socialist revolution. the same aims, ideals, and standards must be applied to economics and to politics, to cultural and social development, to education and religion, and to foreign and domestic relations. the result of this concept of the totalitarian state has been the compulsory regimentation of all phases of german life to conform to the pattern established by the party. the totalitarian state does not recognize personal liberties for the individual. the legal position of the individual citizen in the third reich is clearly set forth by huber (document , _post_ p. ): not until the nationalistic political philosophy had become dominant could the liberalistic idea of basic rights be really overcome. the concept of personal liberties of the individual as opposed to the authority of the state had to disappear; it is not to be reconciled with the principle of the nationalistic reich. there are no personal liberties of the individual which fall outside of the realm of the state and which must be respected by the state. the member of the people, organically connected with the whole community, has replaced the isolated individual; he is included in the totality of the political people and is drawn into the collective action. there can no longer be any question of a private sphere, free of state influence, which is sacred and untouchable before the political unity. the constitution of the nationalistic reich is therefore not based upon a system of inborn and inalienable rights of the individual.[ ] in place of these rights the constitution of the third reich guarantees to the individual his place in the community of the people: the legal position of the individual member of the people forms an entirely new concept which is indispensable for the construction of a nationalistic order. the legal position of the individual is always related to the community and conditioned by duty. it is developed not for the sake of the individual but for the community, which can only be filled with life, power, and purpose when a suitable field of action is insured for the individual member. without a concrete determination of the individual's legal position there can be no real community. this legal position represents the organic fixation of the individual in the living order. rights and obligations arise from the application of this legal position to specific individual relationships ... but all rights must be regarded as duty-bound rights. their exercise is always dependent upon the fulfilment by the individual of those duties to which all rights are subordinate ...[ ] the concept of private property in the totalitarian state is also at variance with the democratic concept of private property. in the third reich the holder of property is considered merely as a manager responsible to the _volk_ for the use of the property in the common interest. huber sets forth the nazi view in the following words: "private property" as conceived under the liberalistic economic order was a reversal of the true concept of property. this "private property" represented the right of the individual to manage and to speculate with inherited or acquired property as he pleased, without regard for the general interests ... german socialism had to overcome this "private," that is, unrestrained and irresponsible view of property. all property is common property. the owner is bound by the people and the reich to the responsible management of his goods. his legal position is only justified when he satisfies this responsibility to the community.[ ] pursuant to this view of the nature of ownership, property may be confiscated whenever the state decides that public management would be in the interests of the community, or if the owner is found guilty of irresponsible management, in which case no compensation is paid him. reference has been made to the appointment of party members to important state offices. gauweiler (document , _post_ p. ) points out that the party insured the infusion of the entire structure of the state with its ideology through the civil-service law (_beamtengesetz_) of january , ,[ ] which provides that a person appointed to a civil-service position must be "filled with national socialist views, since only thus can he be an executor of the will of the state which is carried by the nsdap. it demands of him that he be ready at all times to exert himself unreservedly in behalf of the national socialist state and that he be aware of the fact that the nsdap, as the mouthpiece of the people's will, is the vital force behind the concept of the german state."[ ] the infiltration of party members into the civil service has now proceeded to such a point that early in pfundtner, the secretary of state in the german ministry of the interior, could write in the periodical _akademie für deutsches recht_: the german civil servant must furthermore be a national socialist to the marrow of his bones and must be a member of the party or of one of its formations. the state will primarily see to it that the young guard of the movement is directed toward a civil-service career and also that the civil servant takes an active part in the party so that the political idea and service of the state become closely welded.[ ] * * * * * footnotes to first section [footnote : huber, _verfassungsrecht des grossdeutschen reiches_ (hamburg, ), pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : neesse, _die nationalsozialistische deutsche arbeiterpartei--versuch einer rechtsdeutung_ (stuttgart, ), p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : scurla, _die grundgedanken des nationalsozialismus und das ausland_ (berlin, ), pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : beck, _die erziehung im dritten reich_ (dortmund and breslau, ), p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : rosenberg, _der mythus des . jahrhunderts_ (munich, ), p. ( st ed. ).] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : gottfried feder, _the programme of the party of hitler_ (translated by e.t.s. dugdale: munich, ), p. .] [footnote : rosenberg, _wesen, grundsätze und ziele der nsdap_ (munich, ), pp. - ( st ed. ).] [footnote : rosenberg, _der mythus des . jahrhunderts_, p. .] [footnote : beck, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : huber, "_aufbau und gefüge des reiches_," published in the book _idee und ordnung des reiches_ (ed. by huber: hamburg, hanseatische verlagsanstalt, ), p. .] [footnote : huber, _verfassungsrecht des grossdeutschen reiches_ (hamburg, ), pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : neesse, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _germany speaks_ (containing articles by twenty-one leading members of the nazi party and the german government: london, ), p. .] [footnote : _reichsgesetzblatt_ ( ), p. . (all citations to the _reichsgesetzblatt_ refer to part i thereof.)] [footnote : neesse, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : beck, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : _my new order_, p. .] [footnote : huber, _verfassungsrecht des grossdeutschen reiches_ (hamburg, ), p. .] [footnote : gauweiler, _rechtseinrichtungen und rechtsaufgaben der bewegung_ (munich, ), p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : neesse, _op. cit,_, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : huber, _verfassungsrecht des grossdeutschen reiches_ (hamburg, ), pp. - .] [footnote : beck, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : goebbels, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : _germany speaks_, pp. - .] [footnote : _reichsgesetzblatt_ ( ), p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, ( ), p. .] [footnote : _organisationsbuch der nsdap_ (ed. by the national organizational director of the nsdap: munich, ), p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. b.] [footnote : _ibid._, p. d.] [footnote : _ibid._] [footnote : the german pocket reference book for current events (_taschen-brockhaus zum zeitgeschehen_: leipzig, ) states that the swastika banner was designed by hitler for the nsdap in .] [footnote : adolf hitler, _mein kampf_ (munich, verlag frank eher, g.m.b.h., [copyright ]), pp. - .] [footnote : _reichsgesetzblatt_ ( ), p. .] [footnote : _ibid._ ( ), p. .] [footnote : _organisationsbuch der nsdap_ (munich, ), p. .] [footnote : _reichsgesetzblatt_ ( ), p. .] [footnote : _ibid._] [footnote : in his book _die deutsche polizei_ (_the german police_) (_darmstadt_, l.c. wittich verlag, ), p. , the prominent nazi police official, dr. werner best, wrote that this law "is to be regarded not as a 'police law'--that is, as the regulation of police functions and activities--but as the expression of the new conception of the state as it has been transformed by the national socialist revolution, from which the new 'police' concept is derived." also, this law was for the police "the confirmation that the work already begun was in agreement with the law giving will of the supreme leadership of the reich."] [footnote : huber, _verfassungsrecht des grossdeutschen reiches_ (hamburg, ) p. .] [footnote : neesse, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : gauweiler, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : huber, _verfassungsrecht des grossdeutschen reiches_ (hamburg, ), p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _reichsgesetzblatt_ ( ), pp. - .] [footnote : gauweiler, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : reported in a bulletin of the official german news agency, dnb, apr. , .] nazi aims and methods political aims the political aims of national socialism have been written so clearly in history in the past years that it does not appear necessary to discuss them at length here. the detailed program of the nazi party consists of the points which were adopted on february , at a party mass meeting in munich. (the -point program appears in the appendix as document , _post_ p. .) the points of particular interest in this study are the first four, which are set forth below: . we demand the union of all germans to form a great germany on the basis of the right of the self-determination enjoyed by nations. . we demand equality of rights for the german people in its dealings with other nations, and abolition of the peace treaties of versailles and st. germain. . we demand land and territory (colonies) for the nourishment of our people and for settling our superfluous population. . none but members of the nation may be citizens of the state. none but those of german blood, whatever their creed, may be members of the nation. no jew, therefore, may be a member of the nation.[ ] _ . internal objectives_ a statement of the internal objectives of national socialism is made by gauweiler in his _legal organization and legal functions of the movement_ (document , _post_ p. ). the laws of the reich must seek to establish and promote the five basic values recognized by nazi ideology: . race: the legal protection of the race, which has created a new concept of nationality [_volkszugehörigkeit_], is consciously put in first place, for the most significant historical principle which has been established by the victory of national socialism is that of the necessity for keeping race and blood pure. all human mistakes and errors can be corrected except one: "the error regarding the importance of maintaining the basic values of a nation." the purpose of this legal protection of the basic value of _race_ must be the prevention for all time of a further mixture of german blood with foreign blood, as well as the prevention of continued procreation of racially unworthy and undesirable members of the people. . soil [_boden_]: the living-space and the basis for the food supply of the german people are its territory and soil. the farmer is the first and deepest representative of the people since he nourishes the people from the fertility of the earth and he maintains the nation through the fertility of his own family. here national socialism had to accomplish two great legal ends: the reestablishment and the protection of the farmer class and the securing of its land for the farmer family. . work: the nation's work as a basic national value is grounded on the leading concept of "work of the hands and of the head" within and for the community of the people and the elevation of work to the only criterion for the value of an individual within the community. in place of the idea of class warfare, national socialism had to establish the national community legally; in place of the defamation of work and its degradation to an object of barter, national socialism had to raise it to an ethical duty and the right to work had to become the most clearly defined personal right of the individual. the concept of the honor of work had to be established as the basic concept of the national honor. . the reich: with the securing of the three basic values of race, soil, and work arises the national socialist reich. the infusion of foreign cultural and legal influences in germany was a consequence of the weakening of the central authority of the german reich since the middle ages. the creation and insuring of a strong central authority in contrast to the disorganized, federalistic system of the weimar republic became one of the principal lines of national socialist legal policy. in consequence of the national socialist revolution, the reich took on the legal form of a totalitarian state and received a supreme and completely authoritative lawgiver in the person of the führer. the principle of a division of power could no longer maintain itself: the formulation, the interpretation, and the execution of the law are all performed by the führer himself or under his authority. . honor: the fifth great value of the nation is its honor. the honor of the people, the reich, the party, the führer, and the individual citizen are all regarded as goods to be protected by law. the basis of national honor is loyalty. national socialist criminal law is therefore essentially organized as a system of punishment for breaches of faith. every crime and offense against the community is a breach of faith which must result in loss of honor.[ ] _ . foreign policy_ the close connection between the internal political program of the national socialist movement, as expressed in the foregoing paragraphs, and its foreign policy was indicated by hitler when he wrote in _mein kampf_ (document -i, _post_ p. ): as national socialists we can further set forth the following principle with regard to the nature of the foreign policy of a folk-state: _it is the task of the foreign policy of a folk-state to secure the existence on this planet of the race which is encompassed by the state and at the same time to establish a healthy, viable, natural relation between the number and growth of the folk on the one hand and the size and quality of its soil and territory on the other hand._[ ] and in the same work he states: yes, we can only learn from the past that we must undertake the setting of aims for our political activity in two directions: _soil and territory as the goal of our foreign policy, and a new, philosophically firm and uniform foundation as the goal of our domestic political activity._[ ] the political objectives of national socialism, then, by definition of hitler himself, are the internal unification of the german people and external expansion. while the nazis have never concealed the first of these objectives, the second was the subject for a great deal of dissimulation up to the outbreak of the present war. typical of the false front which the nazis presented to the outside world with reference to their foreign policy objectives are the statements made by dr. scurla in _basic principles of national socialism with special reference to foreign countries_. dr. scurla quotes hitler's speech of may , in which he said, "we see the european nations around us as given facts. french, poles, etc., are our neighbor peoples, and we know that no conceivable historic occurrence could change this reality,"[ ] and comments: this folk principle, which has grown out of the national socialist ideology, implies the recognition of the independence and the equal rights of each people. we do not see how anyone can discern in this a "pan-germanic" and imperialistic threat against our neighbors. this principle does not admit the difference between "great powers" and "minor states," between majority peoples and minorities. it means at the same time a clear rejection of any imperialism which aims at the subjugation of foreign peoples or the denationalization of alien populations. it demands the unqualified acknowledgment of the right to live of every folk, and of every folk-group, which is forced to live as a foreign group in another state. the western european national state together with its parliamentary democracy was not able to do justice to the natural and living entities, the peoples, in their struggle for existence.[ ] farther on in the same work scurla states: out of its fundamental ideologic view, however, germany rejects every form of imperialism, even that of peaceful penetration. it is unable to concede to any people the authority to develop ideas and ways of living, to which then another people has to subordinate itself, even if some other order is suited to its essential nature ... it does not at all, however, consider the german order obligatory for other peoples. national socialism, as has been said a hundred times, is exclusively the sum total of the german world-view.[ ] similar assurances by nazi leaders were frequently made in order to induce a sense of security in neighboring countries. hitler, for example, in a proclamation opening the party congress at nuremberg on september , said: national socialism has no aggressive intentions against any european nation. on the contrary, we are convinced that the nations of europe must continue their characteristic national existence, as created by tradition, history and economy; if not, europe as a whole will be destroyed.[ ] but such assurances, which were intended exclusively for foreign consumption, were refuted by the basic policy laid down in _mein kampf_, which has been persistently pursued throughout the years of the nazi regime and has been realized to the extent that germany now dominates and is in control of most of the european continent. in _mein kampf_ (document -i, _post_ p. ) hitler wrote: _our task, the mission of the national socialist movement, however, is to lead our folk to such political insight that it will see its future goal fulfilled not in the intoxicating impression of a new alexandrian campaign but rather in the industrious work of the german plow, which waits only to be given land by the sword._[ ] hitler suggests a future foreign policy for germany which would assure _lebensraum_ and domination of the european continent. in _mein kampf_ he states: but the political testament of the german nation for its outwardly directed activity should and must always have the following import: _never tolerate the establishment of two continental powers in europe. see an attack against germany in every attempt to organize a second military power on the german borders, even if it is only in the form of the establishment of a state which is a potential military power, and see therein not only the right but also the duty to prevent the formation of such a state with all means, even to the use of force, or if it has already been established, to destroy it again. see to it that the strength of our folk has its foundations not in colonies but in the soil of the european homeland. never regard the foundations of the reich as secure, if it is not able to give every off-shoot of our folk its own bit of soil and territory for centuries to come. never forget that the most sacred right in the world is the right to the soil which a man wishes to till himself, and the most sacred sacrifice is the blood which he spills for this soil_.[ ] it is impossible to adduce from the writings of hitler, or other nazi leaders direct statements indicating that they aspire to the domination of the entire world. such expressions, however, may be inferred not only from the direction of german foreign policy and the effusions of the geopoliticians but also from the following statement made by hitler in _mein kampf_ (document -i, _post_ p. ): ... if the german folk, in its historical development, had possessed that herdlike unity which other peoples have enjoyed, the german reich would today be mistress of the globe. world history would have taken another course, and no one can tell whether in this way that might not have been attained which so many deluded pacifists are hoping today to wheedle by moaning and whining: a peace supported not by the palm branches of tearful pacifistic female mourners but founded by the victorious sword of a master race [_herrenvolk_] which places the world in the service of a higher culture.[ ] like hitler, rosenberg envisaged the extension of nazi power far beyond the borders of germany. in his _nature, principles, and aims of the nsdap_ he stated, "but national socialism also believes that, far beyond germany's borders, its principles and its ideology ... will lead the way in the unavoidable struggles for power in the other countries of europe and america."[ ] propaganda _ . professed peaceful intentions as a cloak for imperialistic designs_ the falsity of nazi propaganda has been demonstrated repeatedly during the past decade. that its keynote was set by hitler himself becomes evident upon an examination of his statements on foreign policy over a period of years. not only has his policy been marked by a series of shifts and turns, so that the policy of one year was frequently canceled by the policy of the next, but a comparison of his words with his subsequent deeds makes it evident that he deliberately sought to lull other countries into a feeling of security until he was ready to move against them. on may , he asserted: _no fresh european war is capable of putting something better in the place of unsatisfactory conditions which exist to-day ..._ the outbreak of such madness without end would lead to the collapse of existing social order in europe ... the german government are convinced that to-day there can be only one great task, and that is to assure the peace of the world ... _the german government wish to settle all difficult questions with other governments by peaceful methods._ they know that any military action in europe, even if completely successful, would, in view of the sacrifice, bear no relation to the profit to be obtained ... germany will tread no other path than that laid down by the treaties. the german government will discuss all political and economic questions only within the framework of, and through, the treaties. _the german people have no thought of invading any country._[ ] (document , _post_ pp. - .) and on march , he stated: after three years i believe that i can regard the struggle for german equality as concluded to-day. i believe, moreover, that thereby the first and foremost reason for our withdrawal from european collective collaboration has ceased to exist. _we have no territorial demands to make in europe._[ ] (document , _post_ p. .) moreover, he did not shrink from giving specific assurances of germany's peaceful intentions toward his subsequent victims: there are germans and poles in europe, and they ought to live together in agreement. the poles cannot think, of europe without the germans and the germans cannot think of europe without the poles. (oct. , ) _germans and poles must reconcile themselves as to the fact of each others' existence._ it has seemed to me necessary to demonstrate by an example that it is possible for two nations to talk over their differences without giving the task to a third or a fourth ... _the assertion that the german reich plans to coerce the austrian state is absurd and cannot be substantiated or proved_ ... the assertion of the austrian government that from the side of the reich an attack would be undertaken or planned i must emphatically reject ... the german reich is always ready to hold out a hand for a real understanding, with full respect for the free will of austrian germans ... (jan. , ) _the lie goes forth again that germany to-morrow or the day after will fall upon austria or czecho-slovakia_. i ask myself always: who can these elements be who will have no peace, who incite continually, who must so distrust, and want no understanding? who are they? i know they are not the millions who, if these inciters had their way, would have to take up arms. (may , ) germany and poland are two nations, and these nations will live, and neither of them will be able to do away with the other. i recognized all of this, and we all must recognize that a people of , , will always strive for an outlet to the sea ... _we have assured all our immediate neighbors of the integrity of their territory as far as germany is concerned. that is no hollow phrase; it is our sacred will_ ... (sept. , )[ ] (document , _post_ pp. , , , - .) yugoslavia is a state that has increasingly attracted the attention of our people since the war. the high regard that the german soldiers then felt for this brave people has since been deepened and developed into genuine friendship. our economic relations with this country are undergoing constant development and expansion, just as is the case with the friendly countries of bulgaria, greece, rumania, turkey, switzerland, belgium, holland, denmark, norway, sweden, finland, and the baltic states. (jan. , )[ ] in hitler's reichstag speech of april , , in which he replied to president roosevelt's telegraphic message inviting him and mussolini to pledge themselves not to attack countries mentioned by name, he stated: _... all states bordering on germany have received much more binding assurances, and above all suggestions, than mr. roosevelt asked from me in his curious telegram ..._ the german government is nevertheless prepared to give each of the states named an assurance of the kind desired by mr. roosevelt on the condition of absolute reciprocity, provided that the state wishes it and itself addresses to germany a request for such an assurance together with appropriate proposals.[ ] and on september , , with reference to the recently concluded pact between germany and russia, he said: you know that russia and germany are governed by two different doctrines. there was only one question that had to be cleared up. germany has no intention of exporting its doctrine. given the fact that soviet russia has no intention of exporting its doctrine to germany, i no longer see any reason why we should still oppose one another. on both sides we are clear on that. any struggle between our people would only be of advantage to others. we have, therefore, resolved to conclude a pact which rules out forever any use of violence between us.[ ] additional assurances of this nature are quoted in a series of extracts from hitler's speeches, dating from february , to september , , which was printed in the _london times_ of september , (document , _post_ p. ). _ . internal propaganda_ within germany the notorious propaganda machine of dr. goebbels, together with a systematic terrorization of oppositionist elements, has been the principle support of the rise and triumph of the nazi movement. in his _legal organization and legal functions of the movement_ (document , _post_ p. ), gauweiler gives an idea of the permeation of all phases of national life with a propaganda designed to make nazi "legal principles" acceptable to the masses. he makes it clear that all of the nazi propaganda machinery is in the service of this program; political lecturers, the press, the radio, and the films all play a part in helping the people to understand and appreciate the new legal code. the schools and hitler youth groups provide instruction for all young people in the fundamentals of national socialist law, and pupils in those schools which train the carefully selected future leaders are given an especially strong dose of nazi legal theory and practice. in order to appeal to the broadest audience, nazi propaganda has always sought to present all questions in the simplest possible terms. goebbels himself, in his _nature and form of national socialism_ (document , _post_ p. ), wrote as follows: national socialism has simplified the thinking of the german people and led it back to its original primitive formulas. it has presented the complicated processes of political and economic life in their simplest terms. this was done with the well-considered intention of leading the broad masses of the people once again to take part in political life. in order to find understanding among the masses, we consciously practiced a popular [_volksgebundene_] propaganda. we have taken complexes of facts which were formerly accessible only to a few specialists and experts, carried them to the streets, and hammered them into the brain of the little man. all things were presented so simply that even the most primitive mind could grasp them. we refused to work with unclear or insubstantial concepts but we gave all things a clearly defined sense. here lay the secret of our success.[ ] the character and quality of nazi propaganda was fully presaged in _mein kampf_. here hitler paid a striking tribute to the power of lies, commenting on-- the very correct principle that the size of the lie always involves a certain factor of credibility, since the great mass of a people will be more spoiled in the innermost depths of its heart, rather than consciously and deliberately bad. consequently, in view of the primitive simplicity of its mind it is more readily captivated by a big lie than by a small one, since it itself often uses small lies but would be, nevertheless, too ashamed to make use of big lies. such an untruth will not even occur to it, and it will not even believe that others are capable of the enormous insolence of the most vile distortions. why, even when enlightened, it will still vacillate and be in doubt about the matter and will nevertheless accept as true at least some cause or other. consequently, even from the most impudent lie something will always stick ...[ ] a number of other passages display hitler's low opinion of the intellectual capacities and critical faculties of the masses: all propaganda has to appeal to the people and its intellectual level has to be set in accordance with the receptive capacities of the most-limited persons among those to whom it intends to address itself. the larger the mass of men to be reached, the lower its purely intellectual level will have to be set.[ ] the receptive capacity of the great masses is very restricted, its understanding small. on the other hand, however, its forgetfulness is great. on account of these facts all effective propaganda must restrict itself to very few points and impress these by slogans, until even the last person is able to bring to mind what is meant by such a word.[ ] the task of propaganda is, for instance, not to evaluate diverse rights but to emphasize exclusively the single right of that which it is representing. it does not have to investigate objectively the truth, so far as this is favorable to the others, in order then to present it to the masses in strict honesty, but rather to serve its own side ceaselessly.[ ] if one's own propaganda even once accords just the shimmer of right to the other side, then the basis is therewith laid for doubt regarding one's own cause. the masses are not able to distinguish where the error of the other side ends and the error of one's own side begins.[ ] but all talent in presentation of propaganda will lead to no success if a fundamental principle is not always strictly followed. propaganda has to restrict itself to a few matters and to repeat these eternally. persistence is here, as with so many other things in the world, the first and most important presupposition for success.[ ] in view of their slowness of mind, they [the masses] require always, however, a certain period before they are ready even to take cognizance of a matter, and only after a thousandfold repetition of the most simple concept will they finally retain it.[ ] _in all cases in which there is a question of the fulfilment of apparently impossible demands or tasks, the entire attention of a people must be concentrated only on this one question, in such a way as if being or non-being actually depends on its solution_ ... ...the great mass of the people can never see the entire way before them, without tiring and doubting the task.[ ] in general the art of all truly great popular leaders at all times consists primarily in not scattering the attention of a people but rather in concentrating it always on one single opponent. the more unified this use of the fighting will of a people, the greater will be the magnetic attractive force of a movement and the more powerful the force of its push. it is a part of the genius of a great leader to make even quite different opponents appear as if they belonged only to one category, because the recognition of different enemies leads weak and unsure persons only too readily to begin doubting their own cause. when the vacillating masses see themselves fighting against too many enemies, objectivity at once sets in and raises the question whether really all the others are wrong and only one's own people or one's own movement is right.[ ] (document -ii, _post_ pp. - .) it has been the aim of nazi propaganda, then, to unite the masses of the people in hatred of certain enemies, designated by such conveniently broad and simple terms as "jews," "democrats," "plutocrats," "bolshevists," or "anglo-saxons," which so far as possible were to be identified with one another in the public mind. the germans were represented to themselves, on the other hand, as a racial folk of industrious workers. it then became possible to plunge the people into a war on a wave of emotional hatred against those nations which were pictured as combining to keep germany from attaining her rightful place in the sun. the important role which propaganda would have to play in the coming war was fully recognized by ewald banse, an ardent nazi military theorist of the geopolitical school and professor of military science at brunswick military college. in his book _raum und volk im weltkrieg_ (_space and people in the world war_) which appeared in (an english translation by alan harris was published under the title _germany prepares for war_ (new york, harcourt, brace and co., )), he stated: preparation for future wars must not stop at the creation, equipment and training of an efficient army, but must go on to train the minds of the whole people for the war and must employ all the resources of science to master the conditions governing the war itself and the possibility of endurance. in we had a first-class army, but our scientific mobilization was bad, and the mobilization of men's minds a thing undreamed of. the unveiling of war memorials, parades of war veterans, flag-waggings, fiery speeches and guard-mounting are not of themselves enough to prepare a nation's mind for the dangers that threaten. conviction is always more lasting than enthusiasm. ... such teaching is necessary at a time and in a world in which countries are no longer represented by monarchs or a small aristocracy or by a specialist army, but in which the whole nation, from the commander-in-chief to the man in the ranks, from the loftiest thought to the simplest wish, from corn to coal, from the treasury vaults to the last trouser-button, must be permeated through and through with the idea of national defense, if it is to preserve its national identity and political independence. the science of national defense is not the same as military science; it does not teach generals how to win battles or company commanders how to train recruits. its lessons are addressed first and foremost to the whole people. it seeks to train the popular mind to heroism and war and to implant in it an understanding of the nature and prerequisite conditions of modern warfare. it teaches us about countries and peoples, especially our own country and its neighbors, their territories and economic capacity, their communications and their mentality--all for the purpose of creating the best possible conditions for waging future wars in defense of the national existence.[ ] infiltration tactics the nazis, while entirely without scruple in the pursuit of their objectives, endeavor whenever possible to give their actions the cloak of legality. this procedure was followed in germany to enable them to gain control of the government of the reich and in their foreign policy up to september , . it has been a cardinal principle of the nazis to avoid the use of force whenever their objectives may be attained in another manner and they have assiduously studied their enemies in an effort to discover the weak points in their structure which will enable the nazis to accomplish their downfall. the preceding pages have demonstrated that the nazis have contributed practically nothing that is original to german political thought. by the use of unscrupulous, deceitful, and uninhibited tactics, however, they have been able to realize many of the objectives which had previously existed only in theory. the weimar constitution provided the nazis with a convenient basis for the establishment of the totalitarian state. they made no effort to conceal their intention of taking advantage of the weaknesses of the weimar republic in order to attain power. on april , dr. goebbels wrote in his paper _der angriff_: we enter parliament in order to supply ourselves, in the arsenal of democracy, with its own weapons. we become members of the reichstag in order to paralyze the weimar sentiment with its own assistance. if democracy is so stupid as to give us free tickets and salaries for this bear's work, that is its affair ...[ ] and later in the same article: we do not come as friends, nor even as neutrals. we come as enemies. as the wolf bursts into the flock, so we come.[ ] hitler expressed the same idea on september , , when, looking back upon the struggle for political power in germany, he wrote: this watchword of democratic freedom led only to insecurity, indiscipline, and at length to the downfall and destruction of all authority. _our opponents' objection that we, too, once made use of these rights, will not hold water; for we made use of an unreasonable right, which was part and parcel of an unreasonable system, in order to overthrow the unreason of this system._[ ] discussing the rise to power of the nazis, huber (document , _post_ p. ) wrote in : the parliamentary battle of the nsdap had the single purpose of destroying the parliamentary system from within through its own methods. it was necessary above all to make formal use of the possibilities of the party-state system but to refuse real cooperation and thereby to render the parliamentary system, which is by nature dependent upon the responsible cooperation of the opposition, incapable of action.[ ] as its parliamentary strength increased, the party was able to achieve these aims: it was in a position to make the formation of any positive majority in the reichstag impossible.... thus the nsdap was able through its strong position to make the reichstag powerless as a lawgiving and government-forming body.[ ] the same principle was followed by germany in weakening and undermining the governments of countries which it had chosen for its victims. while it was hitler's policy to concentrate on only one objective at a time, german agents were busy throughout the world in ferreting out the natural political, social, and economic cleavages in various countries and in broadening them in order to create internal confusion and uncertainty. foreign political leaders of fascist or authoritarian persuasion were encouraged and often liberally subsidized from nazi funds. control was covertly obtained over influential newspapers and periodicals and their editorial policies shaped in such a way as to further nazi ends. in the countries germany sought to overpower, all the highly developed organs of nazi propaganda were utilized to confuse and divide public opinion, to discredit national leaders and institutions, and to induce an unjustified feeling of confidence in the false assertions of nazi leaders disclaiming any aggressive intentions. one of the most important features introduced by the nazis into german foreign policy was the appreciation of the value of germans living abroad and their organization as implements of the reich for the attainment of objectives in the field of foreign policy. this idea was applied by the nazis to all the large colonies of germans which are scattered throughout the world. the potential usefulness of these colonies was early recognized by the men in hitler's immediate entourage, several of whom were so-called _auslandsdeutsche_ who had spent many years of their life abroad and were familiar with foreign conditions and with the position and influence of german groups in foreign countries. of particular importance in this group were rudolf hess, the führer's deputy, who was primarily responsible for elaborating the policy which utilized the services of germans abroad, and ernst wilhelm bohle, the leader of the foreign organization, who was responsible for winning over these germans to naziism and for their organization in groups which would serve the purposes of the third reich. footnotes: [footnote : feder, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : gauweiler, _op. cit._, pp. - .] [footnote : _mein kampf_, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : scurla, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _der parteitag der freiheit_ (official record of the party congress at nuremberg: munich, ), p. .] [footnote : _mein kampf_, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : rosenberg, _wesen, grundsätze und ziele der nsdap_, p. .] [footnote : _london times_, sept. , , p. .] [footnote : _ibid._] [footnote : _ibid._] [footnote : _my new order_, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : goebbels, _op. cit._, p. .] [footnote : _mein kampf_, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid_., p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. - .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : banse, _germany prepares for war_ (new york, ), pp. - .] [footnote : goebbels, _der angriff: aufsätze aus der kampfzeit_ (munich, ), p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _my new order_, pp. - .] [footnote : huber, _verfassungsrecht des grossdeutschen reiches_ (hamburg, ), p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] national-socialism and medicine address by dr. f. hamburger to german medical profession. translated (in part) from _wiener klinische wochenschrift_, , no. . medical men must beware of pride, a pride which is certainly wide-spread and which leads to the disparagement of the practical doctor and medical layman, and then further to the disparagement of the craft of nature healers. the practical doctor and the nature healer on the one hand tend towards an understandable disparagement of medical science and analysis and, on the other hand, tend towards superficiality. the superficiality of the opponents of science is, however, as unhappy an affair as the pride of the so-called scientists, but the one group should not demean the other. this would lead to successful cooperation to the advantage of the sick and health of the community. academic medicine and nature healers generally have one thing in common, that they underestimate the significance of automatism and suggestion. in this regard there is an absence in both camps of the necessary criticism and clarity. successes are noted with specific methods without any confirmation as to whether or not suggestion and faith alone have not produced the improvement in the patient. national-socialism is the true instrument for the achievement of the health of our people. national-socialism is concerned with the great significance of inherited traits and with the insight into the working of spiritual forces upon the body, with the study of the power of custom and, along with this, of the significance of education and nurture. (hamburger here complains about the luxurious arrangement for dealing with the mentally ill in contradistinction to the neglect of folk-health. this he attributes to the era of liberalism with its stress upon the single individual. he here also attacks the socialism of social democracy and its conception of a community of equal men. this is a false socialism.) so we scientists and doctors simply and soberly affirm the principle of strength of faith and the nationalist socialist principle of positive christianity which does not prevent us from the inspired consideration of natural and divinely willed phenomena. we doctors must never forget the fact that the soul rules the body. soul forces are the most important. the spirit builds the body. strength springs from joy. efficiency is achieved despite care, fear, and uncertainty--we speak here of thymogenetic automatism or the automatism of harmony ("thymogenetische automatismus oder stimmungsautomatismus"). the autonomous nervous system achieves, under the influence of joy, the expansion of the blood vessels in skin and muscle.... the muscular activity incited by joy means the use of calories and stimulation of appetite. muscular contraction pulls and draws at the bones, ligaments are tensed, breathing deepend, appetite increased ... a child influenced by the daily exercise of joy develops physically strong and powerful. ... the soul care (seele sorge) of the practical doctor is his most significant daily task alongside of prescriptions and manipulative dexterity. soul-care in the medical sense is a concern for the wishes, hopes and fears of the patient, the considered participation in his fate. such a relationship leads to the all-important and generally recognized trust in the doctor. this faith, in all cases, leads to the improvement, often even to the elimination of symptoms, of the disease. here we have clearly before us the great significance of thymogenetic automatism. academic physicians should not dismiss this because we do not know its biochemical aspects. (we must beware of regarding something as unacceptable because it is not measurable in exact terms, he warns.) we see its practical results, and, therefore, thymogenetic automatism must stand in the first rank as of overwhelming significance. thus, also, the principle, strength through joy (kraft durch freude) stands firmly as an inescapable natural law. we see the practical country doctor spreading courage and confidence. for years too few doctors have seen clearly that gymnastic tourism and sport do more for health than all doctors taken together. and now we face the fact that a single man, a non-medical man (hitler) through his great qualities, has opened up new avenues of health for the eighty million folk of germany. in the majority of cases things so happen that the doctor must act before making a diagnosis, since only the mis-educated patients, the one-sided intellectual patient, wishes in the very first place to know the diagnosis. but the unspoilt and properly ordered type of person wishes only to be relieved of his pain. for him the diagnosis is an interesting side issue but not the principle thing. we can thus also understand why we always meet the desire for a diagnosis placed first by the over-intellectualized jewish patient. but that is not the case with most aryan patients. they, from the first, come to meet the doctor with more trust. they do not entertain as many after-thoughts. and i cannot help but remark that after-thoughts are hardly conducive to right results. (after a discussion of the sterilization of the unfit and of inheritable diseases he turns to the subject of child bearing.) it has been estimated that every couple should have four children if the nation's population is to be maintained. but we meet already the facile and complacent expression of young married people, "now we have our four children and so have fulfilled our obligations"--what superficiality! today we must demand a much higher moral attitude from the wife than previously. earlier it was taken for granted that a woman would bear a child every one or two years. but today in this time of manifold amenities of life, at a time when women is not denied access to these joys it is understandable that she is eager to participate in them. add to this that the knowledge of birth control is general today. despite all this women must be encouraged to give birth during twenty years of married life to eight or ten and even more children, and to renounce the above-mentioned joys of life. she must decide as a mother of children to lead a life full of sacrifices, devotion, and unselfishness. it is only when these ethical demands are fulfilled by a large number of worthy wives of good stock that the future of the german nation will be assured. doctors are leaders of the folk more than they know ... they are now quite officially fuehrer of the people, called to the leadership of its health. to fulfill this task they must be free of the profit motive. they must be quite free from that attitude of spirit which is rightly designated as jewish, the concern for business and self-provision. selected bibliography arendt, hannah--_the origins of totalitarianism_, n.y., . pt. iii is especially directed to a discussion of the principles and consequences of fascism. the author gives an effective account of what "total domination" signifies in a reign of terror. detailed bibliography. bodrero, emilio--"fascism" in _dictatorship on its trial_, ed. by otto forst de battaglia, london, . a brief, but significant, statement by a former rector of the university of padua and a secretary of state to mussolini. borgese, g.a.--_goliath, the march of fascism_, n.y., . well written from the point of view of an italian humanist. brady, robert a.--_the spirit and structure of german fascism_, london, . an extremely thorough and documented discussion of the economy of national socialist germany, its institutions and its business practices. see also: brady's _business as a system of power_; chapters on germany, italy and japan. n.y., . childs, h.l. and dodd, w.e.--_the nazi primer_, n.y., . a translation of the "official handbook for schooling the hitler youth." in simple form including illustrations, it is an excellent indication of the guiding principles of the german educational system. dennis, lawrence--_the coming american fascism_, n.y., . _the dynamics of war and revolution_, n.y., . two books by the only fascist theorist in america. fraenkel, ernest--_the dual state: a contribution to the theory of dictatorship,_ n.y., . by distinguishing between the "prerogative state" and the "normative state," the author gives an effective account of the attempt of the nazis to acknowledge an indispensable, if minimal, legal order, which was, comparatively speaking, independent of the extra-legal realm of violence. hartshorne, e.y.--_the german universities and national socialism_, cambridge, . a carefully documented account of what happened in the various branches and departments of german universities under the nazis. hitler, adolph--_my battle_, n.y., . hitler's own vitriolic account of his attempt to rise to power. lasswell, harold d.--"the garrison state," _american journal of sociology_, chicago, vol. xlvi, - , pp. - . a brief but incisive discussion of the structure of fascism. lilge, frederic--_the abuse of learning: the failure of the german university,_ n.y., . a philosophical history of higher education in germany, concluding with its fascist evolution. matteotti, giacomo--_the fascist exposed: a year of fascist domination_, london, . a factual account by a liberal, who, until murdered, was a member of the italian senate. minio-paluello, l.--_education in fascist italy_, n.y., . a detailed discussion of fascist education, including an historical introduction to pre-fascist education. neumann, franz--_behemoth: the structure and practice of national socialism_, n.y., . probably the most comprehensive and definitive statement in english of the functioning of national socialism. it concentrates especially on the political and economic aspects of nazism. pinthus, kurt--"culture under nazi germany," _the american scholar_, vol. ix, n.y., , pp. - . a valuable treatment of the inner character of the arts and letters and of what happened to their publics under the nazis. sabine, g.h.--_a history of political theory_, n.y., . a brief chapter on "fascism" gives an excellent balanced account of its fundamentals. salvemini, gaetano--_the fascist dictatorship in italy_, n.y., . _under the axe of fascism_, n.y., . an eminent italian historian writes vividly and perceptively on italian fascism. schneider, herbert w.--_making the fascist state_, n.y., . an early, but well considered, account of the rise of italian fascism. silone, ignazio--_fontamara_, verona, . the best novel on italian fascism. spender, stephen--_european witness_, n.y., . note especially the analysis of goebbel's novel, _michael_. trevor-roper, h.r.--_the last days of hitler_, n.y., . an intimate portrayal of hitler and his entourage from the time of the beginning of the collapse of the nazi armies. especially good on the rift between the politicians and the military. readings on fascism and national socialism the catastrophe and holocaust brought about by the two powerful movements of fascism and national socialism will mark human life always. now, as we feel our hatred for them, we find it difficult to understand how they could have been so powerful, how they could have appealed so strongly to millions of people of a modern age. and the documents whereby we could understand these philosophies have been lost--except as they are now gathered here in one convenient volume. to understand our own times, it is necessary to understand these movements. and to understand them, we must read the basic philosophical and political documents which show the force of the ideas which moved a world to the brink of disaster. the first swallow paperbooks: . a field of broken stones by lowell naeve. a profound book written in a prison. $ . . . the wife of martin guerre by janet lewis. one of the fine short novels of all time. $ . . . readings on fascism and national socialism. a grouping together of authoritative readings. $ . . . the teacher of english by james e. warren, jr. the materials and opportunities of the teacher. $ . . . morning red by frederick manfred. the most ambitious novel by a powerful writer. $ . . alan swallow so. york st., denver , colo. cover design by lowell naeve physics and politics or thoughts on the application of the principles of 'natural selection' and 'inheritance' to political society by walter bagehot new and cheaper edition (also published in the international scientific series, crown vo. s.) contents. i. the preliminary age ii. the use of conflict iii. nation-making iv. nation-making v. the age of discussion vi. verifiable progress politically considered no. i. the preliminary age. one peculiarity of this age is the sudden acquisition of much physical knowledge. there is scarcely a department of science or art which is the same, or at all the same, as it was fifty years ago. a new world of inventions--of railways and of telegraphs--has grown up around us which we cannot help seeing; a new world of ideas is in the air and affects us, though we do not see it. a full estimate of these effects would require a great book, and i am sure i could not write it; but i think i may usefully, in a few papers, show how, upon one or two great points, the new ideas are modifying two old sciences--politics and political economy. even upon these points my ideas must be incomplete, for the subject is novel; but, at any rate, i may suggest some conclusions, and so show what is requisite even if i do not supply it. if we wanted to describe one of the most marked results, perhaps the most marked result, of late thought, we should say that by it everything is made 'an antiquity.' when, in former times; our ancestors thought of an antiquarian, they described him as occupied with coins, and medals, and druids' stones; these were then the characteristic records of the decipherable past, and it was with these that decipherers busied themselves. but now there are other relics; indeed, all matter is become such. science tries to find in each bit of earth the record of the causes which made it precisely what it is; those forces have left their trace, she knows, as much as the tact and hand of the artist left their mark on a classical gem. it would be tedious (and it is not in my way) to reckon up the ingenious questionings by which geology has made part of the earth, at least, tell part of its tale; and the answers would have been meaningless if physiology and conchology and a hundred similar sciences had not brought their aid. such subsidiary sciences are to the decipherer of the present day what old languages were to the antiquary of other days; they construe for him the words which he discovers, they give a richness and a truth-like complexity to the picture which he paints, even in cases where the particular detail they tell is not much. but what here concerns me is that man himself has, to the eye of science, become 'an antiquity.' she tries to read, is beginning to read, knows she ought to read, in the frame of each man the result of a whole history of all his life, of what he is and what makes him so,--of all his fore-fathers, of what they were and of what made them so. each nerve has a sort of memory of its past life, is trained or not trained, dulled or quickened, as the case may be; each feature is shaped and characterised, or left loose and meaningless, as may happen; each hand is marked with its trade and life, subdued to what it works in;--if we could but see it. it may be answered that in this there is nothing new; that we always knew how much a man's past modified a man's future; that we all knew how much, a man is apt to be like his ancestors; that the existence of national character is the greatest commonplace in the world; that when a philosopher cannot account for anything in any other manner, he boldly ascribes it to an occult quality in some race. but what physical science does is, not to discover the hereditary element, but to render it distinct,--to give us an accurate conception of what we may expect, and a good account of the evidence by which we are led to expect it. let us see what that science teaches on the subject; and, as far as may be, i will give it in the words of those who have made it a professional study, both that i may be more sure to state it rightly and vividly, and because--as i am about to apply these principles to subjects which are my own pursuit--i would rather have it quite clear that i have not made my premises to suit my own conclusions. st, then, as respects the individual, we learn as follows: 'even while the cerebral hemispheres are entire, and in full possession of their powers, the brain gives rise to actions which are as completely reflex as those of the spinal cord. 'when the eyelids wink at a flash of light, or a threatened blow, a reflex action takes place, in which the afferent nerves are the optic, the efferent, the facial. when a bad smell causes a grimace, there is a reflex action through the same motor nerve, while the olfactory nerves constitute the afferent channels. in these cases, therefore, reflex action must be effected through the brain, all the nerves involved being cerebral. 'when the whole body starts at a loud noise, the afferent auditory nerve gives rise to an impulse which passes to the medulla oblongata, and thence affects the great majority of the motor nerves of the body. 'it may be said that these are mere mechanical actions, and have nothing to do with the acts which we associate with intelligence. but let us consider what takes place in such an act as reading aloud. in this case, the whole attention of the mind is, or ought to be, bent upon the subject-matter of the book; while a multitude of most delicate muscular actions are going on, of which the reader is not in the slightest degree aware. thus the book is held in the hand, at the right distance from the eyes; the eyes are moved, from side to side, over the lines, and up and down the pages. further, the most delicately adjusted and rapid movements of the muscles of the lips, tongue, and throat, of laryngeal and respiratory muscles, are involved in the production of speech. perhaps the reader is standing up and accompanying the lecture with appropriate gestures. and yet every one of these muscular acts may be performed with utter unconsciousness, on his part, of anything but the sense of the words in the book. in other words, they are reflex acts. 'the reflex actions proper to the spinal cord itself are natural, and are involved in the structure of the cord and the properties of its constituents. by the help of the brain we may acquire an affinity of artificial reflex actions. that is to say, an action may require all our attention and all our volition for its first, or second, or third performance, but by frequent repetition it becomes, in a manner, part our organisation, and is performed without volition, or even consciousness. 'as everyone knows, it takes a soldier a very long time to learn his drill--to put himself, for instance, into the attitude of 'attention' at the instant the word of command is heard. but, after a time, the sound of the word gives rise to the act, whether the soldier be thinking of it or not. there is a story, which is credible enough, though it may not be true, of a practical joker, who, seeing a discharged veteran carrying home his dinner, suddenly called out 'attention!' whereupon the man instantly brought his hands down, and lost his mutton and potatoes in the gutter. the drill had been gone through, and its effects had become embodied in the man's nervous structure. 'the possibility of all education (of which military drill is only one particular form) is based upon, the existence of this power which the nervous system possesses, of organising conscious actions into more or less unconscious, or reflex, operations. it may be laid down as a rule, that if any two mental states be called up together, or in succession, with due frequency and vividness, the subsequent production of the one of them will suffice to call up the other, and that whether we desire it or not.'[ ] [ ] huxley's elementary physiology, pp. - . the body of the accomplished man has thus become by training different from what it once was, and different from that of the rude man; it is charged with stored virtue and acquired faculty which come away from it unconsciously. again, as to race, another authority teaches:--'man's life truly represents a progressive development of the nervous system, none the less so because it takes place out of the womb instead of in it. the regular transmutation of motions which are at first voluntary into secondary automatic motions, as hartley calls them, is due to a gradually effected organisation; and we may rest assured of this, that co-ordinate activity always testifies to stored-up power, either innate or acquired. 'the way in which an acquired faculty of the parent animal is sometimes distinctly transmitted to the progeny as a heritage, instinct, or innate endowment, furnishes a striking confirmation of the foregoing observations. power that has been laboriously acquired and stored up as statical in one generation manifestly in such case becomes the inborn faculty of the next; and the development takes place in accordance with that law of increasing speciality and complexity of adaptation to external nature which is traceable through the animal kingdom; or, in other words, that law, of progress from the general to the special in development which the appearance of nerve force amongst natural forces and the complexity of the nervous system of man both illustrate. as the vital force gathers up, as it were, into itself inferior forces, and might be said to be a development of them, or, as in the appearance of nerve force, simpler and more general forces are gathered up and concentrated in a more special and complex mode of energy; so again a further specialisation takes place in the development of the nervous system, whether watched through generations or through individual life. it is not by limiting our observations to the life of the individual, however, who is but a link in the chain of organic beings connecting the past with the future, that we shall come at the full truth; the present individual is the inevitable consequence of his antecedents in the past, and in the examination of these alone do we arrive at the adequate explanation of him. it behoves us, then, having found any faculty to be innate, not to rest content there, but steadily to follow backwards the line of causation, and thus to display, if possible, its manner of origin. this is the more necessary with the lower animals, where so much is innate.'[ ] [ ] maudsley on the physiology and pathology of the mind, p. . the special laws of inheritance are indeed as yet unknown. all which is clear, and all which is to my purpose is, that there is a tendency, a probability, greater or less according to circumstances, but always considerable, that the descendants of cultivated parents will have, by born nervous organisation, a greater aptitude for cultivation than the descendants of such as are not cultivated; and that this tendency augments, in some enhanced ratio, for many generations. i do not think any who do not acquire--and it takes a hard effort to acquire--this notion of a transmitted nerve element will ever understand 'the connective tissue' of civilisation. we have here the continuous force which binds age to age, which enables each to begin with some improvement on the last, if the last did itself improve; which makes each civilisation not a set of detached dots, but a line of colour, surely enhancing shade by shade. there is, by this doctrine, a physical cause of improvement from generation to generation: and no imagination which has apprehended it can forget it; but unless you appreciate that cause in its subtle materialism, unless you see it, as it were, playing upon the nerves of men, and, age after age, making nicer music from finer chords, you cannot comprehend the principle of inheritance either in its mystery or its power. these principles are quite independent of any theory as to the nature of matter, or the nature of mind. they are as true upon the theory that mind acts on matter--though separate and altogether different from it--as upon the theory of bishop berkeley that there is no matter, but only mind; or upon the contrary theory--that there is no mind, but only matter; or upon the yet subtler theory now often held--that both mind and matter are different modifications of some one tertium quid, some hidden thing or force. all these theories admit--indeed they are but various theories to account for--the fact that what we call matter has consequences in what we call mind, and that what we call mind produces results in what we call matter; and the doctrines i quote assume only that. our mind in some strange way acts on our nerves, and our nerves in some equally strange way store up the consequences, and somehow the result, as a rule and commonly enough, goes down to our descendants; these primitive facts all theories admit, and all of them labour to explain. nor have these plain principles any relation to the old difficulties of necessity and freewill. every freewillist holds that the special force of free volition is applied to the pre-existing forces of our corporeal structure; he does not consider it as an agency acting in vacuo, but as an agency acting upon other agencies. every freewillist holds that, upon the whole, if you strengthen the motive in a given direction, mankind tend more to act in that direction. better motives--better impulses, rather--come from a good body: worse motives or worse impulses come from a bad body. a freewillist may admit as much as a necessarian that such improved conditions tend to improve human action, and that deteriorated conditions tend to deprave human action. no freewillist ever expects as much from st. giles's as he expects from belgravia: he admits an hereditary nervous system as a datum for the will, though he holds the will to be an extraordinary incoming 'something.' no doubt the modern doctrine of the 'conservation of force,' if applied to decision, is inconsistent with free will; if you hold that force 'is never lost or gained,' you cannot hold that there is a real gain--a sort of new creation of it in free volition. but i have nothing to do here with the universal 'conservation of force.' the conception of the nervous organs as stores of will-made power does not raise or need so vast a discussion. still less are these principles to be confounded with mr. buckle's idea that material forces have been the main-springs of progress, and moral causes secondary, and, in comparison, not to be thought of. on the contrary, moral causes are the first here. it is the action of the will that causes the unconscious habit; it is the continual effort of the beginning that creates the hoarded energy of the end; it is the silent toil of the first generation that becomes the transmitted aptitude of the next. here physical causes do not create the moral, but moral create the physical; here the beginning is by the higher energy, the conservation and propagation only by the lower. but we thus perceive how a science of history is possible, as mr. buckle said,--a science to teach the laws of tendencies--created by the mind, and transmitted by the body--which act upon and incline the will of man from age to age. ii. but how do these principles change the philosophy of our politics? i think in many ways; and first, in one particularly. political economy is the most systematised and most accurate part of political philosophy; and yet, by the help of what has been laid down, i think we may travel back to a sort of 'pre-economic age,' when the very assumptions of political economy did not exist, when its precepts would have been ruinous, and when the very contrary precepts were requisite and wise. for this purpose i do not need to deal with the dim ages which ethnology just reveals to us--with the stone age, and the flint implements, and the refuse-heaps. the time to which i would go back is only that just before the dawn of history--coeval with the dawn, perhaps, it would be right to say--for the first historians saw such a state of society, though they saw other and more advanced states too: a period of which we have distinct descriptions from eye-witnesses, and of which the traces and consequences abound in the oldest law. 'the effect,' says sir henry maine, the greatest of our living jurists--the only one, perhaps, whose writings are in keeping with our best philosophy--'of the evidence derived from comparative jurisprudence is to establish that view of the primeval condition of the human race which is known as the patriarchal theory. there is no doubt, of course, that this theory was originally based on the scriptural history of the hebrew patriarchs in lower asia; but, as has been explained already, its connection with scripture rather militated than otherwise against its reception as a complete theory, since the majority of the inquirers who till recently addressed themselves with most earnestness to the colligation of social phenomena, were either influenced by the strongest prejudice against hebrew antiquities or by the strongest desire to construct their system without the assistance of religious records. even now there is perhaps a disposition to undervalue these accounts, or rather to decline generalising from them, as forming part of the traditions of a semitic people. it is to be noted, however, that the legal testimony comes nearly exclusively from the institutions of societies belonging to the indo-european stock, the romans, hindoos, and sclavonians supplying the greater part of it; and indeed the difficulty, at the present stage of the inquiry, is to know where to stop, to say of what races of men it is not allowable to lay down that the society in which they are united was originally organised on the patriarchal model. the chief lineaments of such a society, as collected from the early chapters in genesis, i need not attempt to depict with any minuteness, both because they are familiar to most of us from our earliest childhood, and because, from the interest once attaching to the controversy which takes its name from the debate between locke and filmer, they fill a whole chapter, though not a very profitable one, in english literature. the points which lie on the surface of the history are these:--the eldest male parent--the eldest ascendant--is absolutely supreme in his household. his dominion extends to life and death, and is as unqualified over his children and their houses as over his slaves; indeed the relations of sonship and serfdom appear to differ in little beyond the higher capacity which the child in blood possesses of becoming one day the head of a family himself. the flocks and herds of the children are the flocks and herds of the father, and the possessions of the parent, which he holds in a representative rather than in a proprietary character, are equally divided at his death among his descendants in the first degree, the eldest son sometimes receiving a double share under the name of birthright, but more generally endowed with no hereditary advantage beyond an honorary precedence. a less obvious inference from the scriptural accounts is that they seem to plant us on the traces of the breach which is first effected in the empire of the parent. the families of jacob and esau separate and form two nations; but the families of jacob's children hold together and become a people. this looks like the immature germ of a state or commonwealth, and of an order of rights superior to the claims of family relation. 'if i were attempting for the more special purposes of the jurist to express compendiously the characteristics, of the situation in which mankind disclose themselves at the dawn of their history, i should be satisfied to quote a few verses from the "odyssee" of homer:-- "'_toîsin d' out' agorai boulêphóroi oute thémistes, themisteúei dè hékastos paídôn ed alóchôn, out' allélôn alégousin._'" '"they have neither assemblies for consultation nor themistes, but everyone exercises jurisdiction over his wives and his children, and they pay no regard to one another."' and this description of the beginnings of history is confirmed by what may be called the last lesson of prehistoric ethnology. perhaps it is the most valuable, as it is clearly the most sure result of that science, that it has dispelled the dreams of other days as to a primitive high civilisation. history catches man as he emerges, from the patriarchal state: ethnology shows how he lived, grew, and improved in that state. the conclusive arguments against the imagined original civilisation are indeed plain to everyone. nothing is more intelligible than a moral deterioration of mankind--nothing than an aesthetic degradation--nothing than a political degradation. but you cannot imagine mankind giving up the plain utensils of personal comfort, if they once knew them; still less can you imagine them giving up good weapons--say bows and arrows--if they once knew them. yet if there were a primitive civilisation these things must have been forgotten, for tribes can be found in every degree of ignorance, and every grade of knowledge as to pottery, as to the metals, as to the means of comfort, as to the instruments of war. and what is more, these savages have not failed from stupidity; they are, in various degrees of originality, inventive about these matters. you cannot trace the roots of an old perfect system variously maimed and variously dying; you cannot find it, as you find the trace of the latin language in the mediaeval dialects. on the contrary, you find it beginning--as new scientific discoveries and inventions now begin--here a little and there a little, the same thing half-done in various half-ways, and so as no one who knew the best way would ever have begun. an idea used to prevail that bows and arrows were the 'primitive weapons'--the weapons of universal savages; but modern science has made a table,[ ] and some savages have them and some have not, and some have substitutes of one sort and some have substitutes of another--several of these substitutes being like the 'boomerang,' so much more difficult to hit on or to use than the bow, as well as so much less effectual. and not only may the miscellaneous races of the world be justly described as being upon various edges of industrial civilisation, approaching it by various sides, and falling short of it in various particulars, but the moment they see the real thing they know how to use it as well, or better, than civilised man. the south american uses the horse which the european brought better than the european. many races use the rifle--the especial and very complicated weapon of civilised man--better, upon an average, than he can use it. the savage with simple tools--tools he appreciates--is like a child, quick to learn, not like an old man, who has once forgotten and who cannot acquire again. again, if there had been an excellent aboriginal civilisation in australia and america, where, botanists and zoologists, ask, are its vestiges? if these savages did care to cultivate wheat, where is the wild wheat gone which their abandoned culture must have left? if they did give up using good domestic animals, what has become of the wild ones which would, according to all natural laws, have sprung up out of them? this much is certain, that the domestic animals of europe have, since what may be called the discovery of the world during the last hundred years, run up and down it. the english rat--not the pleasantest of our domestic creatures--has gone everywhere; to australia, to new zealand, to america: nothing but a complicated rat-miracle could ever root him out. nor could a common force expel the horse from south america since the spaniards took him thither; if we did not know the contrary we should suppose him a principal aboriginal animal. where then, so to say, are the rats and horses of the primitive civilisation? not only can we not find them, but zoological science tells us that they never existed, for the 'feebly pronounced,' the ineffectual, marsupials of australia and new zealand could never have survived a competition with better creatures, such as that by which they are now perishing. we catch then a first glimpse of patriarchal man, not with any industrial relics of a primitive civilisation, but with some gradually learnt knowledge of the simpler arts, with some tamed animals and some little knowledge of the course of nature as far as it tells upon the seasons and affects the condition of simple tribes. this is what, according to ethnology, we should expect the first historic man to be, and this is what we in fact find him. but what was his mind; how are we to describe that? [ ] see the very careful table and admirable discussion in sir john lubbock's pre-historic times. i believe the general description in which sir john lubbock sums up his estimate of the savage mind suits the patriarchal mind. 'savages,' he says, 'unite the character of childhood with the passions and strength of men.' and if we open the first record of the pagan world--the poems of homer--how much do we find that suits this description better than any other. civilisation has indeed already gone forward ages beyond the time at which any such description is complete. man, in homer, is as good at oratory, mr. gladstone seems to say, as he has ever been, and, much as that means, other and better things might be added to it. but after all, how much of the 'splendid savage' there is in achilles, and how much of the 'spoiled child sulking in his tent.' impressibility and excitability are the main characteristics of the oldest greek history, and if we turn to the east, the 'simple and violent' world, as mr. kinglake calls it, of the first times meets us every moment. and this is precisely what we should expect. an 'inherited drill,' science says, 'makes modern nations what they are; their born structure bears the trace of the laws of their fathers;' but the ancient nations came into no such inheritance; they were the descendants of people who did what was right in their own eyes; they were born to no tutored habits, no preservative bonds, and therefore they were at the mercy of every impulse and blown by every passion. the condition of the primitive man, if we conceive of him rightly, is, in several respects, different from any we know. we unconsciously assume around us the existence of a great miscellaneous social machine working to our hands, and not only supplying our wants, but even telling and deciding when those wants shall come. no one can now without difficulty conceive how people got on before there were clocks and watches; as sir g. lewis said, 'it takes a vigorous effort of the imagination' to realise a period when it was a serious difficulty to know the hour of day. and much more is it difficult to fancy the unstable minds of such men as neither knew nature, which is the clock-work of material civilisation, nor possessed a polity, which is a kind of clock-work to moral civilisation. they never could have known what to expect; the whole habit of steady but varied anticipation, which makes our minds what they are, must have been wholly foreign to theirs. again, i at least cannot call up to myself the loose conceptions (as they must have been) of morals which then existed. if we set aside all the element derived from law and polity which runs through our current moral notions, i hardly know what we shall have left. the residuum was somehow, and in some vague way, intelligible to the ante-political man, but it must have been uncertain, wavering, and unfit to be depended upon. in the best cases it existed much as the vague feeling of beauty now exists in minds sensitive but untaught; a still small voice of uncertain meaning; an unknown something modifying everything else, and higher than anything else, yet in form so indistinct that when you looked for it, it was gone--or if this be thought the delicate fiction of a later fancy, then morality was at least to be found in the wild spasms of 'wild justice,' half punishment, half outrage,--but anyhow, being unfixed by steady law, it was intermittent, vague, and hard for us to imagine. everybody who has studied mathematics knows how many shadowy difficulties he seemed to have before he understood the problem, and how impossible it was when once the demonstration had flashed upon him, ever to comprehend those indistinct difficulties again, or to call up the mental confusion, that admitted them. so in these days, when we cannot by any effort drive out of our minds the notion of law, we cannot imagine the mind of one who had never known it, and who could not by any effort have conceived it. again, the primitive man could not have imagined what we mean by a nation. we on the other hand cannot imagine those to whom it is a difficulty; 'we know what it is when you do not ask us,' but we cannot very quickly explain or define it. but so much as this is plain, a nation means a like body of men, because of that likeness capable of acting together, and because of that likeness inclined to obey similar rules; and even this homer's cyclops--used only to sparse human beings--could not have conceived. to sum up--law--rigid, definite, concise law--is the primary want of early mankind; that which they need above anything else, that which is requisite before they can gain anything else. but it is their greatest difficulty, as well as their first requisite; the thing most out of their reach, as well as that most beneficial to them if they reach it. in later ages many races have gained much of this discipline quickly, though painfully; a loose set of scattered clans has been often and often forced to substantial settlement by a rigid conqueror; the romans did half the work for above half europe. but where could the first ages find romans or a conqueror? men conquer by the power of government, and it was exactly government which then was not. the first ascent of civilisation was at a steep gradient, though when now we look down upon it, it seems almost nothing. iii. how the step from polity to no polity was made distinct, history does not record,--on this point sir henry maine has drawn a most interesting conclusion from his peculiar studies:-- 'it would be,' he tells us, 'a very simple explanation of the origin of society if we could base a general conclusion on the hint furnished us by the scriptural example already adverted to, and could suppose that communities began to exist wherever a family held together instead of separating at the death of its patriarchal chieftain. in most of the greek states and in rome there long remained the vestiges of an ascending series of groups out of which the state was at first constituted. the family, house, and tribe of the romans may be taken as a type of them, and they are so described to us that we can scarcely help conceiving them as a system of concentric circles which have gradually expanded from the same point. the elementary group is the family, connected by common subjection to the highest male ascendant. the aggregation of families forms the gens, or house. the aggregation of houses makes the tribe. the aggregation of tribes constitutes the commonwealth. are we at liberty to follow these indications, and to lay down that the commonwealth is a collection of persons united by common descent from the progenitor of an original family? of this we may at least be certain, that all ancient societies regarded themselves as having proceeded from one original stock, and even laboured under an incapacity for comprehending any reason except this for their holding together in political union. the history of political ideas begins, in fact, with the assumption that kinship in blood is the sole possible ground of community in political functions; nor is there any of those subversions of feeling, which we term emphatically revolutions, so startling and so complete as the change which is accomplished when some other principle--such as that, for instance, of local contiguity--establishes itself for the first time as the basis of common political action.' if this theory were true, the origin of politics would not seem a great change, or, in early days, be really a great change. the primacy of the elder brother, in tribes casually cohesive, would be slight; it would be the beginning of much, but it would be nothing in itself; it would be--to take an illustration from the opposite end of the political series--it would be like the headship of a weak parliamentary leader over adherents who may divide from him in a moment; it was the germ of sovereignty,--it was hardly yet sovereignty itself. i do not myself believe that the suggestion of sir henry maine--for he does not, it will be seen, offer it as a confident theory--is an adequate account of the true origin of politics. i shall in a subsequent essay show that there are, as it seems to me, abundant evidences of a time still older than that which he speaks of. but the theory of sir henry maine serves my present purpose well. it describes, and truly describes, a kind of life antecedent to our present politics, and the conclusion i have drawn from it will be strengthened, not weakened, when we come to examine and deal with an age yet older, and a social bond far more rudimentary. but when once polities were began, there is no difficulty in explaining why they lasted. whatever may be said against the principle of 'natural selection' in other departments, there is no doubt of its predominance in early human history. the strongest killed out the weakest, as they could. and i need not pause to prove that any form of politics more efficient than none; that an aggregate of families owning even a slippery allegiance to a single head, would be sure to have the better of a set of families acknowledging no obedience to anyone, but scattering loose about the world and fighting where they stood. homer's cyclops would be powerless against the feeblest band; so far from its being singular that we find no other record of that state of man, so unstable and sure to perish was it that we should rather wonder at even a single vestige lasting down to the age when for picturesqueness it became valuable in poetry. but, though the origin of polity is dubious, we are upon the terra firma of actual records when we speak of the preservation of polities. perhaps every young englishman who comes now-a-days to aristotle or plato is struck with their conservatism: fresh from the liberal doctrines of the present age, he wonders at finding in those recognised teachers so much contrary teaching. they both--unlike as they are--hold with xenophon--so unlike both--that man is the 'hardest of all animals to govern.' of plato it might indeed be plausibly said that the adherents of an intuitive philosophy, being 'the tories of speculation,' have commonly been prone to conservatism in government; but aristotle, the founder of the experience philosophy, ought, according to that doctrine, to have been a liberal, if anyone ever was a liberal. in fact, both of these men lived when men had not 'had time to forget' the difficulties of government. we have forgotten them altogether. we reckon, as the basis of our culture, upon an amount of order, of tacit obedience, of prescriptive governability, which these philosophers hoped to get as a principal result of their culture. we take without thought as a datum, what they hunted as a quaesilum. in early times the quantity of government is much more important than its quality. what you want is a comprehensive rule binding men together, making them do much the same things, telling them what to expect of each other--fashioning them alike, and keeping them so. what this rule is does not matter so much. a good rule is better than a bad one, but any rule is better than none; while, for reasons which a jurist will appreciate, none can be very good. but to gain that rule, what may be called the impressive elements of a polity are incomparably more important than its useful elements. how to get the obedience of men is the hard problem; what you do with that obedience is less critical. to gain that obedience, the primary condition is the identity--not the union, but the sameness--of what we now call church and state. dr. arnold, fresh from the study of greek thought and roman history, used to preach that this identity was the great cure for the misguided modern world. but he spoke to ears filled with other sounds and minds filled with other thoughts, and they hardly knew his meaning, much less heeded it. but though the teaching was wrong for the modern age to which it was applied, it was excellent for the old world from which it was learnt. what is there requisite is a single government--call it church or state, as you like--regulating the whole of human life. no division of power is then endurable without danger--probably without destruction; the priest must not teach one thing and the king another; king must be priest, and prophet king: the two must say the same, because they are the same. the idea of difference between spiritual penalties and legal penalties must never be awakened. indeed, early greek thought or early roman thought would never have comprehended it. there was a kind of rough public opinion and there were rough, very rough, hands which acted on it. we now talk of political penalties and ecclesiastical prohibition, and the social censure, but they were all one then. nothing is very like those old communities now, but perhaps a 'trade's union' is as near as most things; to work cheap is thought to be a 'wicked' thing, and so some broadhead puts it down. the object of such organisations is to create what may be called a cake of custom. all the actions of life are to be submitted to a single rule for a single object; that gradually created the 'hereditary drill' which science teaches to be essential, and which the early instinct of men saw to be essential too. that this regime forbids free thought is not an evil; or rather, though an evil, it is the necessary basis for the greatest good; it is necessary for making the mould of civilisation, and hardening the soft fibre of early man. the first recorded history of the aryan race shows everywhere a king, a council, and, as the necessity of early conflicts required, the king in much prominence and with much power. that there could be in such ages anything like an oriental despotism, or a caesarean despotism, was impossible; the outside extra-political army which maintains them could not exist when the tribe was the nation, and when all the men in the tribe were warriors. hence, in the time of homer, in the first times of rome, in the first times of ancient germany, the king is the most visible part of the polity, because for momentary welfare he is the most useful. the close oligarchy, the patriciate, which alone could know the fixed law, alone could apply the fixed law, which was recognised as the authorised custodian of the fixed law, had then sole command over the primary social want. it alone knew the code of drill; it alone was obeyed; it alone could drill. mr. grote has admirably described the rise of the primitive oligarchies upon the face of the first monarchy, but perhaps because he so much loves historic athens, he has not sympathised with pre-historic athens. he has not shown us the need of a fixed life when all else was unfixed life. it would be schoolboyish to explain at length how well the two great republics, the two winning republics of the ancient world, embody these conclusions. rome and sparta were drilling aristocracies, and succeeded because they were such. athens was indeed of another and higher order; at least to us instructed moderns who know her and have been taught by her. but to the 'philistines' of those days athens was of a lower order. she was beaten; she lost the great visible game which is all that short-sighted contemporaries know. she was the great 'free failure' of the ancient world. she began, she announced, the good things that were to come; but she was too weak to display and enjoy them; she was trodden down by those of coarser make and better trained frame. how much these principles are confirmed by jewish history is obvious. there was doubtless much else in jewish history--whole elements with which i am not here concerned. but so much is plain. the jews were in the beginning the most unstable of nations; they were submitted to their law, and they came out the most stable of nations. their polity was indeed defective in unity. after they asked for a king the spiritual and the secular powers (as we should speak) were never at peace, and never agreed. and the ten tribes who lapsed from their law, melted away into the neighbouring nations. jeroboam has been called the 'first liberal;' and, religion apart, there is a meaning in the phrase. he began to break up the binding polity which was what men wanted in that age, though eager and inventive minds always dislike it. but the jews who adhered to their law became the jews of the day, a nation of a firm set if ever there was one. it is connected with this fixity that jurists tell us that the title 'contract' is hardly to be discovered in the oldest law. in modern days, in civilised days, men's choice determines nearly all they do. but in early times that choice determined scarcely anything. the guiding rule was the law of status. everybody was born to a place in the community: in that place he had to stay: in that place he found certain duties which he had to fulfil, and which were all he needed to think of. the net of custom caught men in distinct spots, and kept each where he stood. what are called in european politics the principles of , are therefore inconsistent with the early world; they are fitted only to the new world in which society has gone through its early task; when the inherited organisation is already confirmed and fixed; when the soft minds and strong passions of youthful nations are fixed and guided by hard transmitted instincts. till then not equality before the law is necessary but inequality, for what is most wanted is an elevated elite who know the law: not a good government seeking the happiness of its subjects, but a dignified and overawing government getting its subjects to obey: not a good law, but a comprehensive law binding all life to one routine. later are the ages of freedom; first are the ages of servitude. in , when the great men of the constituent assembly looked on the long past, they hardly saw anything in it which could be praised, or admired, or imitated: all seemed a blunder--a complex error to be got rid of as soon as might be. but that error had made themselves. on their very physical organisation the hereditary mark of old times was fixed; their brains were hardened and their nerves were steadied by the transmitted results of tedious usages. the ages of monotony had their use, for they trained men for ages when they need not be monotonous. iv. but even yet we have not realised the full benefit of those early polities and those early laws. they not only 'bound up' men in groups, not only impressed on men a certain set of common usages, but often, at least in an indirect way, suggested, if i may use the expression, national character. we cannot yet explain--i am sure, at least, i cannot attempt to explain--all the singular phenomena of national character: how completely and perfectly they seem to be at first framed; how slowly, how gradually they can alone be altered, if they can be altered at all. but there is one analogous fact which may help us to see, at least dimly, how such phenomena are caused. there is a character of ages, as well as of nations; and as we have full histories of many such periods, we can examine exactly when and how the mental peculiarity of each began, and also exactly when and how that mental peculiarity passed away. we have an idea of queen anne's time, for example, or of queen elizabeth's time, or george ii.'s time; or again of the age of louis xiv., or louis xv., or the french revolution; an idea more or less accurate in proportion as we study, but probably even in the minds who know these ages best and most minutely, more special, more simple, more unique than the truth was. we throw aside too much, in making up our images of eras, that which is common to all eras. the english character was much the same in many great respects in chaucer's time as it was in elizabeth's time or anne's time, or as it is now; but some qualities were added to this common element in one era and some in another; some qualities seemed to overshadow and eclipse it in one era, and others in another. we overlook and half forget the constant while we see and watch the variable. but--for that is the present point--why is there this variable? everyone must, i think, have been puzzled about it. suddenly, in a quiet time--say, in queen anne's time--arises a special literature, a marked variety of human expression, pervading what is then written and peculiar to it: surely this is singular. the true explanation is, i think, something like this. one considerable writer gets a sort of start because what he writes is somewhat more--only a little more very often, as i believe--congenial to the minds around him than any other sort. this writer is very often not the one whom posterity remembers--not the one who carries the style of the age farthest towards its ideal type, and gives it its charm and its perfection. it was not addison who began the essay-writing of queen anne's time, but steele; it was the vigorous forward man who struck out the rough notion, though it was the wise and meditative man who improved upon it and elaborated it, and whom posterity reads. some strong writer, or group of writers, thus seize on the public mind, and a curious process soon assimilates other writers in appearance to them. to some extent, no doubt, this assimilation is effected by a process most intelligible, and not at all curious--the process of conscious imitation; a sees that b's style of writing answers, and he imitates it. but definitely aimed mimicry like this is always rare; original men who like their own thoughts do not willingly clothe them in words they feel they borrow. no man, indeed, can think to much purpose when he is studying to write a style not his own. after all, very few men are at all equal to the steady labour, the stupid and mistaken labour mostly, of making a style. most men catch the words that are in the air, and the rhythm which comes to them they do not know from whence; an unconscious imitation determines their words, and makes them say what of themselves they would never have thought of saying. everyone who has written in more than one newspaper knows how invariably his style catches the tone of each paper while he is writing for it, and changes to the tone of another when in turn he begins to write for that. he probably would rather write the traditional style to which the readers of the journal are used, but he does not set himself to copy it; he would have to force himself in order not to write it if that was what he wanted. exactly in this way, just as a writer for a journal without a distinctly framed purpose gives the readers of the journal the sort of words and the sort of thoughts they are used to--so, on a larger scale, the writers of an age, without thinking of it, give to the readers of the age the sort of words and the sort of thoughts--the special literature, in fact--which those readers like and prize. and not only does the writer, without thinking, choose the sort of style and meaning which are most in vogue, but the writer is himself chosen. a writer does not begin to write in the traditional rhythm of an age unless he feels, or fancies he feels, a sort of aptitude for writing it, any more than a writer tries to write in a journal in which the style is uncongenial or impossible to him. indeed if he mistakes he is soon weeded out; the editor rejects, the age will not read his compositions. how painfully this traditional style cramps great writers whom it happens not to suit, is curiously seen in wordsworth, who was bold enough to break through it, and, at the risk of contemporary neglect, to frame a style of his own. but he did so knowingly, and he did so with an effort. 'it is supposed,' he says, 'that by the act of writing in verse an author makes a formal engagement that he will gratify certain known habits of association; that he not only then apprizes the reader that certain classes of ideas and expressions will be found in his book, but that others will be carefully eschewed. the exponent or symbol held forth by metrical language must, in different ages of literature, have excited very different expectations; for example, in the age of catullus, terence, or lucretius, and that of statius or claudian; and in our own country, in the age of shakespeare and beaumont and metcher, and that of donne and cowley, or pope.' and then, in a kind of vexed way, wordsworth goes on to explain that he himself can't and won't do what is expected from him, but that he will write his own words, and only his own words. a strict, i was going to say a puritan, genius will act thus, but most men of genius are susceptible and versatile, and fall into the style of their age. one very unapt at the assimilating process, but on that account the more curious about it, says:-- how we track a livelong day, great heaven, and watch our shadows! what our shadows seem, forsooth, we will ourselves be. do i look like that? you think me that: then i am that. what writers are expected to write, they write; or else they do not write at all; but, like the writer of these lines, stop discouraged, live disheartened, and die leaving fragments which their friends treasure, but which a rushing world never heeds. the nonconformist writers are neglected, the conformist writers are encouraged, until perhaps on a sudden the fashion shifts. and as with the writers, so in a less degree with readers. many men--most men--get to like or think they like that which is ever before them, and which those around them like, and which received opinion says they ought to like; or if their minds are too marked and oddly made to get into the mould, they give up reading altogether, or read old books and foreign books, formed under another code and appealing to a different taste. the principle of 'elimination,' the 'use and disuse' of organs which naturalists speak of, works here. what is used strengthens; what is disused weakens: 'to those who have, more is given;' and so a sort of style settles upon an age, and imprinting itself more than anything else in men's memories becomes all that is thought of about it. i believe that what we call national character arose in very much the same way. at first a sort of 'chance predominance' made a model, and then invincible attraction, the necessity which rules all but the strongest men to imitate what is before their eyes, and to be what they are expected to be, moulded men by that model. this is, i think, the very process by which new national characters are being made in our own time. in america and in australia a new modification of what we call anglo-saxonism is growing. a sort of type of character arose from the difficulties of colonial life--the difficulty of struggling with the wilderness; and this type has given its shape to the mass of characters because the mass of characters have unconsciously imitated it. many of the american characteristics are plainly useful in such a life, and consequent on such a life. the eager restlessness, the highly-strung nervous organisation are useful in continual struggle, and also are promoted by it. these traits seem to be arising in australia, too, and wherever else the english race is placed in like circumstances. but even in these useful particulars the innate tendency of the human mind to become like what is around it, has effected much: a sluggish englishman will often catch the eager american look in a few years; an irishman or even a german will catch it, too, even in all english particulars. and as to a hundred minor points--in so many that go to mark the typical yankee--usefulness has had no share either in their origin or their propagation. the accident of some predominant person possessing them set the fashion, and it has been imitated to this day. anybody who inquires will find even in england, and even in these days of assimilation, parish peculiarities which arose, no doubt, from some old accident, and have been heedfully preserved by customary copying. a national character is but the successful parish character; just as the national speech is but the successful parish dialect, the dialect, that is, of the district which came to be more--in many cases but a little more--influential than other districts, and so set its yoke on books and on society. i could enlarge much on this, for i believe this unconscious imitation to be the principal force in the making of national characters; but i have already said more about it than i need. everybody who weighs even half these arguments will admit that it is a great force in the matter, a principal agency to be acknowledged and watched; and for my present purpose i want no more. i have only to show the efficacy of the tight early polity (so to speak) and the strict early law on the creation of corporate characters. these settled the predominant type, set up a sort of model, made a sort of idol; this was worshipped, copied, and observed, from all manner of mingled feelings, but most of all because it was the 'thing to do,' the then accepted form of human action. when once the predominant type was determined, the copying propensity of man did the rest. the tradition ascribing spartan legislation to lycurgus was literally untrue, but its spirit was quite true. in the origin of states strong and eager individuals got hold of small knots of men, and made for them a fashion which they were attached to and kept. it is only after duly apprehending the silent manner in which national characters thus form themselves, that we can rightly appreciate the dislike which old governments had to trade. there must have been something peculiar about it, for the best philosophers, plato and aristotle, shared it. they regarded commerce as the source of corruption as naturally as a modern economist considers it the spring of industry, and all the old governments acted in this respect upon the philosophers' maxims. 'well,' said dr. arnold, speaking ironically and in the spirit of modern times--'well, indeed, might the policy of the old priest-nobles of egypt and india endeavour to divert their people from becoming familiar with the sea, and represent the occupation of a seaman as incompatible with the purity of the highest castes. the sea deserved to be hated by the old aristocracies, inasmuch as it has been the mightiest instrument in the civilisation of mankind.' but the old oligarchies had their own work, as we now know. they were imposing a fashioning yoke; they were making the human nature which after times employ. they were at their labours, we have entered into these labours. and to the unconscious imitation which was their principal tool, no impediment was so formidable as foreign intercourse. men imitate what is before their eyes, if it is before their eyes alone, but they do not imitate it if it is only one among many present things--one competitor among others, all of which are equal and some of which seem better. 'whoever speaks two languages is a rascal,' says the saying, and it rightly represents the feeling of primitive communities when the sudden impact of new thoughts and new examples breaks down the compact despotism of the single consecrated code, and leaves pliant and impressible man--such as he then is--to follow his unpleasant will without distinct guidance by hereditary morality and hereditary religion. the old oligarchies wanted to keep their type perfect, and for that end they were right not to allow foreigners to touch it. 'distinctions of race,' says arnold himself elsewhere in a remarkable essay--for it was his last on greek history, his farewell words on a long favourite subject--'were not of that odious and fantastic character which they have been in modern times; they implied real differences of the most important kind, religious and moral.' and after exemplifying this at length he goes on, 'it is not then to be wondered at that thucydides, when speaking of a city founded jointly by ionians and dorians, should have thought it right to add "that the prevailing institutions of the two were ionian," for according as they were derived from one or the other the prevailing type would be different. and therefore the mixture of persons of different race in the same commonwealth, unless one race had a complete ascendancy, tended to confuse all the relations of human life, and all men's notions of right and wrong; or by compelling men to tolerate in so near a relation as that of fellow-citizens differences upon the main points of human life, led to a general carelessness and scepticism, and encouraged the notion that right and wrong had no real existence, but were mere creatures of human opinion.' but if this be so, the oligarchies were right. commerce brings this mingling of ideas, this breaking down of old creeds, and brings it inevitably. it is now-a-days its greatest good that it does so; the change is what we call 'enlargement of mind'. but in early times providence 'set apart the nations;' and it is not till the frame of their morals is set by long ages of transmitted discipline, that such enlargement can be borne. the ages of isolation had their use, for they trained men for ages when they were not to be isolated. no. ii the use of conflict. 'the difference between progression and stationary inaction,' says one of our greatest living writers, 'is one of the great secrets which science has yet to penetrate.' i am sure i do not pretend that i can completely penetrate it; but it undoubtedly seems to me that the problem is on the verge of solution, and that scientific successes in kindred fields by analogy suggest some principles--which wholly remove many of its difficulties, and indicate the sort of way in which those which remain may hereafter be removed too. but what is the problem? common english, i might perhaps say common civilised thought, ignores it. our habitual instructors, our ordinary conversation, our inevitable and ineradicable prejudices tend to make us think that 'progress' is the normal fact in human society, the fact which we should expect to see, the fact which we should be surprised if we did not see. but history refutes this. the ancients had no conception of progress; they did not so much as reject the idea; they did not even entertain the idea. oriental nations are just the same now. since history began they have always been what they are. savages, again, do not improve; they hardly seem to have the basis on which to build, much less the material to put up anything worth having. only a few nations, and those of european origin, advance; and yet these think--seem irresistibly compelled to think--such advance to be inevitable, natural, and eternal. why then is this great contrast? before we can answer, we must investigate more accurately. no doubt history shows that most nations are stationary now; but it affords reason to think that all nations once advanced. their progress was arrested at various points; but nowhere, probably not even in the hill tribes of india, not even in the andaman islanders, not even in the savages of terra del fuego, do we find men who have not got some way. they have made their little progress in a hundred different ways; they have framed with infinite assiduity a hundred curious habits; they have, so to say, screwed themselves into the uncomfortable corners of a complex life, which is odd and dreary, but yet is possible. and the corners are never the same in any two parts of the world. our record begins with a thousand unchanging edifices, but it shows traces of previous building. in historic times there has been little progress; in prehistoric times there must have been much. in solving, or trying to solve, the question, we must take notice of this remarkable difference, and explain it, too, or else we may be sure our principles are utterly incomplete, and perhaps altogether unsound. but what then is that solution, or what are the principles which tend towards it? three laws, or approximate laws, may, i think, be laid down, with only one of which i can deal in this paper, but all three of which it will be best to state, that it may be seen what i am aiming at. first. in every particular state of the world, those nations which are strongest tend to prevail over the others; and in certain marked peculiarities the strongest tend to be the best. secondly. within every particular nation the type or types of character then and there most attractive tend to prevail; and, the most attractive, though with exceptions, is what we call the best character. thirdly. neither of these competitions is in most historic conditions intensified by extrinsic forces, but in some conditions, such as those now prevailing in the most influential part of the world, both are so intensified. these are the sort of doctrines with which, under the name of 'natural selection' in physical science, we have become familiar; and as every great scientific conception tends to advance its boundaries and to be of use in solving problems not thought of when it was started, so here, what was put forward for mere animal history may, with a change of form, but an identical essence, be applied to human history. at first some objection was raised to the principle of 'natural selection' in physical science upon religious grounds; it was to be expected that so active an idea and so large a shifting of thought would seem to imperil much which men valued. but in this, as in other cases, the objection is, i think, passing away; the new principle is more and more seen to be fatal to mere outworks of religion, not to religion itself. at all events, to the sort of application here made of it, which only amounts to searching out and following up an analogy suggested by it, there is plainly no objection. everyone now admits that human history is guided by certain laws, and all that is here aimed at is to indicate, in a more or less distinct way, an infinitesimally small portion of such laws. the discussion of these three principles cannot be kept quite apart except by pedantry; but it is almost exclusively with the first--that of the competition between nation and nation, or tribe and tribe (for i must use these words in their largest sense, and so as to include every cohering aggregate of human beings)--that i can deal now; and even as to that i can but set down a few principal considerations. the progress of the military art is the most conspicuous, i was about to say the most showy, fact in human history. ancient civilisation may be compared with modern in many respects, and plausible arguments constructed to show that it is better; but you cannot compare the two in military power. napoleon could indisputably have conquered alexander; our indian army would not think much of the retreat of the ten thousand. and i suppose the improvement has been continuous: i have not the slightest pretence to special knowledge; but, looking at the mere surface of the facts, it seems likely that the aggregate battle array, so to say, of mankind, the fighting force of the human race, has constantly and invariably grown. it is true that the ancient civilisation long resisted the 'barbarians,' and was then destroyed by the barbarians. but the barbarians had improved. 'by degrees,' says a most accomplished writer,[ ] 'barbarian mercenaries came to form the largest, or at least the most effective, part of the roman armies. the body-guard of augustus had been so composed; the praetorians were generally selected from the bravest frontier troops, most of them germans.' 'thus,' he continues, 'in many ways was the old antagonism broken down, romans admitting barbarians to rank and office; barbarians catching something of the manners and culture of their neighbours. and thus, when the final movement came, the teutonic tribes slowly established themselves through the provinces, knowing something of the system to which they came, and not unwilling to be considered its members.' taking friend and foe together, it may be doubted whether the fighting capacity of the two armies was not as great at last, when the empire fell, as ever it was in the long period while the empire prevailed. during the middle ages the combining power of men often failed; in a divided time you cannot collect as many soldiers as in a concentrated time. but this difficulty is political, not military. if you added up the many little hosts of any century of separation, they would perhaps be found equal or greater than the single host, or the fewer hosts, of previous centuries which were more united. taken as a whole, and allowing for possible exceptions, the aggregate fighting power of mankind has grown immensely, and has been growing continuously since we knew anything about it. [ ] mr. bryce again, this force has tended to concentrate itself more and more in certain groups which we call 'civilised nations.' the literati of the last century were for ever in fear of a new conquest of the barbarians, but only because their imagination was overshadowed and frightened by the old conquests. a very little consideration would have shown them that, since the monopoly of military inventions by cultivated states, real and effective military power tends to confine itself to those states. the barbarians are no longer so much as vanquished competitors; they have ceased to compete at all. the military vices, too, of civilisation seem to decline just as its military strength augments. somehow or other civilisation does not make men effeminate or unwarlike now as it once did. there is an improvement in our fibre--moral, if not physical. in ancient times city people could not be got to fight--seemingly could not fight; they lost their mental courage, perhaps their bodily nerve. but now-a-days in all countries the great cities could pour out multitudes wanting nothing but practice to make good soldiers, and abounding in bravery and vigour. this was so in america; it was so in prussia; and it would be so in england too. the breed of ancient times was impaired for war by trade and luxury, but the modern breed is not so impaired. a curious fact indicates the same thing probably, if not certainly. savages waste away before modern civilisation; they seem to have held their ground before the ancient. there is no lament in any classical writer for the barbarians. the new zealanders say that the land will depart from their children; the australians are vanishing; the tasmanians have vanished. if anything like this had happened in antiquity, the classical moralists would have been sure to muse over it; for it is just the large solemn kind of fact that suited them. on the contrary, in gaul, in spain, in sicily--everywhere that we know of--the barbarian endured the contact of the roman, and the roman allied himself to the barbarian. modern science explains the wasting away of savage men; it says that we have diseases which we can bear, though they cannot, and that they die away before them as our fatted and protected cattle died out before the rinderpest, which is innocuous, in comparison, to the hardy cattle of the steppes. savages in the first year of the christian era were pretty much what they were in the th; and if they stood the contact of ancient civilised men, and cannot stand ours, it follows that our race is presumably tougher than the ancient; for we have to bear, and do bear, the seeds of greater diseases than those the ancients carried with them. we may use, perhaps, the unvarying savage as a metre to gauge the vigour of the constitutions to whose contact he is exposed. particular consequences may be dubious, but as to the main fact there is no doubt: the military strength of man has been growing from the earliest time known to our history, straight on till now. and we must not look at times known by written records only; we must travel back to older ages, known to us only by what lawyers call real evidence--the evidence of things. before history began, there was at least as much progress in the military art as there has been since. the roman legionaries or homeric greeks were about as superior to the men of the shell mounds and the flint implements as we are superior to them. there has been a constant acquisition of military strength by man since we know anything of him, either by the documents he has composed or the indications he has left. the cause of this military growth is very plain. the strongest nation has always been conquering the weaker; sometimes even subduing it, but always prevailing over it. every intellectual gain, so to speak, that a nation possessed was in the earliest times made use of--was invested and taken out--in war; all else perished. each nation tried constantly to be the stronger, and so made or copied the best weapons; by conscious and unconscious imitation each nation formed a type of character suitable to war and conquest. conquest improved mankind by the intermixture of strengths; the armed truce, which was then called peace, improved them by the competition of training and the consequent creation of new power. since the long-headed men first drove the short-headed men out of the best land in europe, all european history has been the history of the superposition of the more military races over the less military of the efforts, sometimes successful, sometimes unsuccessful, of each race to get more military; and so the art of war has constantly improved. but why is one nation stronger than another? in the answer to that, i believe, lies the key to the principal progress of early civilisation, and to some of the progress of all civilisation. the answer is that there are very many advantages--some small and some great--every one of which tends to make the nation which has it superior to the nation which has it not; that many of these advantages can be imparted to subjugated races, or imitated by competing races; and that, though some of these advantages may be perishable or inimitable, yet, on the whole, the energy of civilisation grows by the coalescence of strengths and by the competition of strengths. ii. by far the greatest advantage is that on which i observed before--that to which i drew all the attention i was able by making the first of these essays an essay on the preliminary age. the first thing to acquire is if i may so express it, the legal fibre; a polity first--what sort of polity is immaterial; a law first--what kind of law is secondary; a person or set of persons to pay deference to--though who he is, or they are, by comparison scarcely signifies. 'there is,' it has been said, 'hardly any exaggerating the difference between civilised and uncivilised men; it is greater than the difference between a tame and a wild animal,' because man can improve more. but the difference at first was gained in much the same way. the taming of animals as it now goes on among savage nations, and as travellers who have seen it describe it, is a kind of selection. the most wild are killed when food is wanted, and the most tame and easy to manage kept, because they are more agreeable to human indolence, and so the keeper likes them best. captain galton, who has often seen strange scenes of savage and of animal life, had better describe the process:--'the irreclaimably wild members of every flock would escape and be utterly lost; the wilder of those that remained would assuredly be selected for slaughter--whenever it was necessary that one of the flock should be killed. the tamest cattle--those which seldom ran away, that kept the flocks together, and those which led them homeward--would be preserved alive longer than any of the others. it is, therefore, these that chiefly become the parents of stock and bequeath their domestic aptitudes to the future herd. i have constantly witnessed this process of selection among the pastoral savages of south africa. i believe it to be a very important one on account of its rigour and its regularity. it must have existed from the earliest times, and have been, in continuous operation, generation after generation, down to the present day.'[ ] [ ] ethnological society's transactions, vol. iii. p. . man, being the strongest of all animals, differs from the rest; he was obliged to be his own domesticator; he had to tame himself. and the way in which it happened was, that the most obedient, the tamest tribes are, at the first stage in the real struggle of life, the strongest and the conquerors. all are very wild then; the animal vigour, the savage virtue of the race has died out in none, and all have enough of it. but what makes one tribe--one incipient tribe, one bit of a tribe--to differ from another is their relative faculty of coherence. the slightest symptom of legal development, the least indication of a military bond, is then enough to turn the scale. the compact tribes win, and the compact tribes are the tamest. civilisation begins, because the beginning of civilisation is a military advantage. probably if we had historic records of the ante-historic ages--if some superhuman power had set down the thoughts and actions of men ages before they could set them down for themselves--we should know that this first step in civilisation was the hardest step. but when we come to history as it is, we are more struck with the difficulty of the next step. all the absolutely incoherent men--all the 'cyclopes'--have been cleared away long before there was an authentic account of them. and the least coherent only remain in the 'protected' parts of the world, as we may call them. ordinary civilisation begins near the mediterranean sea; the best, doubtless, of the ante-historic civilisations were not far off. from this centre the conquering swarm--for such it is--has grown and grown; has widened its subject territories steadily, though not equably, age by age. but geography long defied it. an atlantic ocean, a pacific ocean, an australian ocean, an unapproachable interior africa, an inaccessible and undesirable hill india, were beyond its range. in such remote places there was no real competition, and on them inferior, half-combined men continued to exist. but in the regions of rivalry--the regions where the better man pressed upon the worse man--such half-made associations could not last. they died out and history did not begin till after they were gone. the great difficulty which history records is not that of the first step, but that of the second step. what is most evident is not the difficulty of getting a fixed law, but getting out of a fixed law; not of cementing (as upon a former occasion i phrased it) a cake of custom, but of breaking the cake of custom; not of making the first preservative habit, but of breaking through it, and reaching something better. this is the precise case with the whole family of arrested civilisations. a large part, a very large part, of the world seems to be ready to advance to something good--to have prepared all the means to advance to something good,--and then to have stopped, and not advanced. india, japan, china, almost every sort of oriental civilisation, though differing in nearly all other things, are in this alike. they look as if they had paused when there was no reason for pausing--when a mere observer from without would say they were likely not to pause. the reason is, that only those nations can progress which preserve and use the fundamental peculiarity which was given by nature to man's organism as to all other organisms. by a law of which we know no reason, but which, is among the first by which providence guides and governs the world, there is a tendency in descendants to be like their progenitors, and yet a tendency also in descendants to differ from their progenitors. the work of nature in making generations is a patchwork--part resemblance, part contrast. in certain respects each born generation is not like the last born; and in certain other respects it is like the last. but the peculiarity of arrested civilisation is to kill out varieties at birth almost; that is, in early childhood, and before they can develop. the fixed custom which public opinion alone tolerates is imposed on all minds, whether it suits them or not. in that case the community feel that this custom is the only shelter from bare tyranny, and the only security for they value. most oriental communities live on land which in theory is the property of a despotic sovereign, and neither they nor their families could have the elements of decent existence unless they held the land upon some sort of fixed terms. land in that state of society is (for all but a petty skilled minority) a necessary of life, and all the unincreasable land being occupied, a man who is turned out of his holding is turned out of this world, and must die. and our notion of written leases is as out of place in a world without writing and without reading as a house of commons among andaman islanders. only one check, one sole shield for life and good, is then possible;--usage. and it is but too plain how in such places and periods men cling to customs because customs alone stand between them and starvation. a still more powerful cause co-operated, if a cause more powerful can be imagined. dryden had a dream of an early age, 'when wild in woods the noble savage ran;' but 'when lone in woods the cringing savage crept' would have been more like all we know of that early, bare, painful period. not only had they no comfort, no convenience, not the very beginnings of an epicurean life, but their mind within was as painful to them as the world without. it was full of fear. so far as the vestiges inform us, they were afraid of everything; they were afraid of animals, of certain attacks by near tribes, and of possible inroads from far tribes. but, above all things, they were frightened of 'the world;' the spectacle of nature filled them with awe and dread. they fancied there were powers behind it which must be pleased, soothed, flattered, and this very often in a number of hideous ways. we have too many such religions, even among races of great cultivation. men change their religions more slowly than they change anything else; and accordingly we have religions 'of the ages'--(it is mr. jowett who so calls them)--of the 'ages before morality;' of ages of which the civil life, the common maxims, and all the secular thoughts have long been dead. 'every reader of the classics,' said dr. johnson, 'finds their mythology tedious.' in that old world, which is so like our modern world in so many things, so much more like than many far more recent, or some that live beside us, there is a part in which we seem to have no kindred, which we stare at, of which we cannot think how it could be credible, or how it came to be thought of. this is the archaic part of that very world which we look at as so ancient; an 'antiquity' which descended to them, hardly altered, perhaps, from times long antecedent, which were as unintelligible to them as to us, or more so. how this terrible religion--for such it was in all living detail, though we make, and the ancients then made, an artistic use of the more attractive bits of it--weighed on man, the great poem of lucretius, the most of a nineteenth-century poem of any in antiquity, brings before us with a feeling so vivid as to be almost a feeling of our own. yet the classical religion is a mild and tender specimen of the preserved religions. to get at the worst, you should look where the destroying competition has been least--at america, where sectional civilisation was rare, and a pervading coercive civilisation did not exist; at such religions as those of the aztecs. at first sight it seems impossible to imagine what conceivable function such awful religions can perform in the economy of the world. and no one can fully explain them. but one use they assuredly had: they fixed the yoke of custom thoroughly on mankind. they were the prime agents of the era. they put upon a fixed law a sanction so fearful that no one could dream of not conforming to it. no one will ever comprehend the arrested civilisations unless he sees the strict dilemma of early society. either men had no law at all, and lived in confused tribes, hardly hanging together, or they had to obtain a fixed law by processes of incredible difficulty. those who surmounted that difficulty soon destroyed all those that lay in their way who did not. and then they a themselves were caught in their own yoke. the customary discipline, which could only be imposed on any early men by terrible sanctions, continued with those sanctions, and killed out of the whole society the propensities to variation which are the principle--of progress. experience shows how incredibly difficult it is to get men really to encourage the principle of originality. they will admit it in theory, but in practice the old error--the error which arrested a hundred civilisations--returns again. men are too fond of their own life, too credulous of the completeness of their own ideas, too angry at the pain of new thoughts, to be able to bear easily with a changing existence; or else, having new ideas, they want to enforce them on mankind--to make them heard, and admitted, and obeyed before, in simple competition with other ideas, they would ever be so naturally. at this very moment there are the most rigid comtists teaching that we ought to be governed by a hierarchy--a combination of savans orthodox in science. yet who can doubt that comte would have been hanged by his own hierarchy; that his essor materiel, which was in fact troubled by the 'theologians and metaphysicians' of the polytechnic school, would have been more impeded by the government he wanted to make? and then the secular comtists, mr. harrison and mr. beesly, who want to 'frenchify the english institutions'--that is, to introduce here an imitation of the napoleonic system, a dictatorship founded on the proletariat--who can doubt that if both these clever writers had been real frenchmen they would have been irascible anti-bonapartists, and have been sent to cayenne long ere now? the wish of these writers is very natural. they want to 'organise society,' to erect a despot who will do what they like, and work out their ideas; but any despot will do what he himself likes, and will root out new ideas ninety-nine times for once that he introduces them. again, side by side with these comtists, and warring with them--at least with one of them--is mr. arnold, whose poems we know by heart, and who has, as much as any living englishman, the genuine literary impulse; and yet even he wants to put a yoke upon us--and, worse than a political yoke, an academic yoke, a yoke upon our minds and our styles. he, too, asks us to imitate france; and what else can we say than what the two most thorough frenchmen of the last age did say?--'dans les corps a talent, nulle distinction ne fait ombrage, si ce n'est pas celle du talent. un due et pair honore l'academie francaise, qui ne veut point de boileau, refuse la bruyere, fait attendre voltaire, mais recoit tout d'abord chapelain et conrart. de meme nous voyons a l'academie grecque le vicomte invite, corai repousse, lorsque jormard y entre comme dans un moulin.' thus speaks paul-louis courier in his own brief inimitable prose. and a still greater writer--a real frenchman, if ever there was one, and (what many critics would have denied to be possible) a great poet by reason of his most french characteristics--beranger, tells us in verse:-- je croyais voir le president fairs bailler--en repondant que l'on vient de perdre un grand homme; que moi je le vaux, dieu sait comme. mais ce president sans facon[ ] ne perore ici qu'en chanson: toujours trop tot sa harangue est finie. non, non, ce n'est point comme a l'academia; ce n'est point comme a l'academie. admis enfin, aurai-jo alors, pour tout esprit, l'esprit de corps? il rend le bon sens, quoi qu'on dise, solidaire de la sottise; mais, dans votes societe, l'esprit de corps, c'est la gaite. cet esprit la regne sans tyrannie. non, non, ce n'est point comme a l'academie; ce n'est point comme a l'acadenie. [ ] desaugiers. asylums of common-place, he hints, academies must ever be. but that sentence is too harsh; the true one is--the academies are asylums of the ideas and the tastes of the last age. 'by the time,' i have heard a most eminent man of science observe, 'by the time a man of science attains eminence on any subject, he becomes a nuisance upon it, because he is sure to retain errors which were in vogue when he was young, but which the new race have refuted.' these are the sort of ideas which find their home in academies, and out of their dignified windows pooh-pooh new things. i may seem to have wandered far from early society, but i have not wandered. the true scientific method is to explain the past by the present--what we see by what we do not see. we can only comprehend why so many nations have not varied, when we see how hateful variation is; how everybody turns against it; how not only the conservatives of speculation try to root it out, but the very innovators invent most rigid machines for crushing the 'monstrosities and anomalies'--the new forms, out of which, by competition and trial, the best is to be selected for the future. the point i am bringing out is simple:--one most important pre-requisite of a prevailing nation is that it should have passed out of the first stage of civilisation into the second stage--out of the stage where permanence is most wanted into that where variability is most wanted; and you cannot comprehend why progress is so slow till you see how hard the most obstinate tendencies of human nature make that step to mankind. of course the nation we are supposing must keep the virtues of its first stage as it passes into the after stage, else it will be trodden out; it will have lost the savage virtues in getting the beginning of the civilised virtues; and the savage virtues which tend to war are the daily bread of human nature. carlyle said, in his graphic way, 'the ultimate question between every two human beings is, "can i kill thee, or canst thou kill me?"' history is strewn with the wrecks of nations which have gained a little progressiveness at the cost of a great deal of hard manliness, and have thus prepared themselves for destruction as soon as the movements of the world gave a chance for it. but these nations have come out of the 'pre-economic stage' too soon; they have been put to learn while yet only too apt to unlearn. such cases do not vitiate, they confirm, the principle--that a nation which has just gained variability without losing legality has a singular likelihood to be a prevalent nation. no nation admits of an abstract definition; all nations are beings of many qualities and many sides; no historical event exactly illustrates any one principle; every cause is intertwined and surrounded with a hundred others. the best history is but like the art of rembrandt; it casts a vivid light on certain selected causes, on those which were best and greatest; it leaves all the rest in shadow and unseen. to make a single nation illustrate a principle, you must exaggerate much and you must omit much. but, not forgetting this caution, did not rome--the prevalent nation in the ancient world--gain her predominance by the principle on which i have dwelt? in the thick crust of her legality there was hidden a little seed of adaptiveness. even in her law itself no one can fail to see that, binding as was the habit of obedience, coercive as use and wont at first seem, a hidden impulse of extrication did manage, in some queer way, to change the substance while conforming to the accidents--to do what was wanted for the new time while seeming to do only what was directed by the old time. and the moral of their whole history is the same each roman generation, so far as we know, differs a little-and in the best times often but a very little--from its predecessors. and therefore the history is so continuous as it goes, though its two ends are so unlike. the history of many nations is like the stage of the english drama: one scene is succeeded on a sudden by a scene quite different,--a cottage by a palace, and a windmill by a fortress. but the history of rome changes as a good diorama changes; while you look, you hardly see it alter; each moment is hardly different from the last moment; yet at the close the metamorphosis is complete, and scarcely anything is as it began. just so in the history of the great prevailing city: you begin with a town and you end with an empire, and this by unmarked stages?--so shrouded, so shielded, in the coarse fibre of other qualities--was the delicate principle of progress, that it never failed, and it was never broken. one standing instance, no doubt, shows that the union of progressiveness and legality does not secure supremacy in war. the jewish nation has its type of progress in the prophets, side by side with its type of permanence in the law and levites, more distinct than any other ancient people. nowhere in common history do we see the two forces--both so necessary and both so dangerous--so apart and so intense: judaea changed in inward thought, just as borne changed in exterior power. each change was continuous, gradual and good. in early times every sort of advantage tends to become a military advantage; such is the best way, then, to keep it alive. but the jewish advantage never did so; beginning in religion, contrary to a thousand analogies, it remained religious. for that we care for them; from that have issued endless consequences. but i cannot deal with such matters here, nor are they to my purpose. as respects this essay, judaea is an example of combined variability and legality not investing itself in warlike power, and so perishing at last, but bequeathing nevertheless a legacy of the combination in imperishable mental effects. it may be objected that this principle is like saying that men walk when they do walk, and sit when they do sit. the problem, is, why do men progress? and the answer suggested seems to be, that they progress when they have a certain sufficient amount of variability in their nature. this seems to be the old style of explanation by occult qualities. it seems like saying that opium sends men to sleep because it has a soporific virtue, and bread feeds because it has an alimentary quality. but the explanation is not so absurd. it says: 'the beginning of civilisation is marked by an intense legality; that legality is the very condition of its existence, the bond which ties it together; but that legality--that tendency to impose a settled customary yoke upon all men and all actions if it goes on, kills out the variability implanted by nature, and makes different men and different ages facsimiles of other men and other ages, as we see them so often. progress is only possible in those happy cases where the force of legality has gone far enough to bind the nation together, but not far enough to kill out all varieties and destroy nature's perpetual tendency to change.' the point of the solution is not the invention of an imaginary agency, but an assignment of comparative magnitude to two known agencies. iii. this advantage is one of the greatest in early civilisation--one of the facts which give a decisive turn to the battle of nations; but there are many others. a little perfection in political institutions may do it. travellers have noticed that among savage tribes those seemed to answer best in which the monarchical power was most predominant, and those worst in which the 'rule of many' was in its vigour. so long as war is the main business of nations, temporary despotism--despotism during the campaign--is indispensable. macaulay justly said that many an army has prospered under a bad commander, but no army has ever prospered under a 'debating society;' that many-headed monster is then fatal. despotism grows in the first societies, just as democracy grows in more modern societies; it is the government answering the primary need, and congenial to the whole spirit of the time. but despotism is unfavourable to the principle of variability, as all history shows. it tends to keep men in the customary stage of civilisation; its very fitness for that age unfits it for the next. it prevents men from passing into the first age of progress--the very slow and very gradually improving age. some 'standing system' of semi-free discussion is as necessary to break the thick crust of custom and begin progress as it is in later ages to carry on progress when begun; probably it is even more necessary. and in the most progressive races we find it. i have spoken already of the jewish prophets, the life of that nation, and the principle of all its growth. but a still more progressive race--that by which secular civilisation was once created, by which it is now mainly administered--had a still better instrument of progression. 'in the very earliest glimpses,' says mr. freeman, 'of teutonic political life, we find the monarchic, the aristocratic, and the democratic elements already clearly marked. there are leaders with or without the royal title; there are men of noble birth, whose noble birth (in whatever the original nobility may have consisted) entitles them to a pre-eminence in every way; but beyond these there is a free and armed people, in whom it is clear that the ultimate sovereignty resides. small matters are decided by the chiefs alone; great matters are submitted by the chiefs to the assembled nation. such a system is far more than teutonic; it is a common aryan possession; it is the constitution of the homeric achaians on earth and of the homeric gods on olympus.' perhaps, and indeed probably, this constitution may be that of the primitive tribe which romans left to go one way, and greeks to go another, and teutons to go a third. the tribe took it with them, as the english take the common law with them, because it was the one kind of polity which they could conceive and act upon; or it may be that the emigrants from the primitive aryan stock only took with them a good aptitude--an excellent political nature, which similar circumstances in distant countries were afterwards to develop into like forms. but anyhow it is impossible not to trace the supremacy of teutons, greeks, and romans in part to their common form of government. the contests of the assembly cherished the principle of change; the influence of the elders insured sedateness and preserved the mould of thought; and, in the best cases, military discipline was not impaired by freedom, though military intelligence was enhanced with the general intelligence. a roman army was a free body, at its own choice governed by a peremptory despotism. the mixture of races was often an advantage, too. much as the old world believed in pure blood, it had very little of it. most historic nations conquered prehistoric nations, and though they massacred many, they did not massacre all. they enslaved the subject men, and they married the subject women. no doubt the whole bond of early society was the bond of descent; no doubt it was essential to the notions of a new nation that it should have had common ancestors; the modern idea that vicinity of habitation is the natural cement of civil union would have been repelled as an impiety if it could have been conceived as an idea. but by one of those legal fictions which sir henry maine describes so well, primitive nations contrived to do what they found convenient, as well as to adhere to what they fancied to be right. when they did not beget they adopted; they solemnly made believe that new persons were descended from the old stock, though everybody knew that in flesh and blood they were not. they made an artificial unity in default of a real unity; and what it is not easy to understand now, the sacred sentiment requiring unity of race was somehow satisfied: what was made did as well as what was born. nations with these sort of maxims are not likely to have unity of race in the modern sense, and as a physiologist understands it. what sorts of unions improve the breed, and which are worse than both the father-race and the mother, it is not very easy to say. the subject was reviewed by m. quatrefages in an elaborate report upon the occasion of the french exhibition, of all things in the world. m. quatrefages quotes from another writer the phrase that south america is a great laboratory of experiments in the mixture of races, and reviews the different results which different cases have shown. in south carolina the mulatto race is not very prolific, whereas in louisiana and florida it decidedly is so. in jamaica and in java the mulatto cannot reproduce itself after the third generation; but on the continent of america, as everybody knows, the mixed race is now most numerous, and spreads generation after generation without impediment. equally various likewise in various cases has been the fate of the mixed race between the white man and the native american; sometimes it prospers, sometimes it fails. and m. quatrefages concludes his description thus: 'en acceptant comme vraies toutes les observations qui tendent a faire admettre qu'il en sera autrement dans les localites dont j'ai parle plus haut, quelle est la conclusion a tirer de faits aussi peu semblables? evidemment, on est oblige de reconnaitre que le developpement de la race mulatre est favorise, retarde, ou empeche par des circonstances locales; en d'autres termes, qu'il depend des influences exercees par l'ensemble des conditions d'existence, par le milieu.' by which i understand him to mean that the mixture of race sometimes brings out a form of character better suited than either parent form to the place and time; that in such cases, by a kind of natural selection, it dominates over both parents, and perhaps supplants both, whereas in other cases the mixed race is not as good then and there as other parent forms, and then it passes away soon and of itself. early in history the continual mixtures by conquest were just so many experiments in mixing races as are going on in south america now. new races wandered into new districts, and half killed, half mixed with the old races. and the result was doubtless as various and as difficult to account for then as now; sometimes the crossing answered, sometimes it failed. but when the mixture was at its best, it must have excelled both parents in that of which so much has been said; that is, variability, and consequently progressiveness. there is more life in mixed nations. france, for instance, is justly said to be the mean term between the latin and the german races. a norman, as you may see by looking at him, is of the north; a provencal is of the south, of all that there is most southern. you have in france latin, celtic, german, compounded in an infinite number of proportions: one as she is in feeling, she is various not only in the past history of her various provinces, but in their present temperaments. like the irish element and the scotch element in the english house of commons, the variety of french races contributes to the play of the polity; it gives a chance for fitting new things which otherwise there would not be. and early races must have wanted mixing more than modern races. it is said, in answer to the jewish boast that 'their race still prospers, though it is scattered and breeds in-and-in,' 'you prosper because you are so scattered; by acclimatisation in various regions your nation has acquired singular elements of variety; it contains within itself the principle of variability which other nations must seek by intermarriage.' in the beginning of things there was certainly no cosmopolitan race like the jews; each race was a sort of 'parish race,' narrow in thought and bounded in range, and it wanted mixing accordingly. but the mixture of races has a singular danger as well as a singular advantage in the early world. we know now the anglo-indian suspicion or contempt for 'half-castes.' the union of the englishman and the hindoo produces something not only between races, but between moralities. they have no inherited creed or plain place in the world; they have none of the fixed traditional sentiments which are the stays of human nature. in the early world many mixtures must have wrought many ruins; they must have destroyed what they could not replace--an inbred principle of discipline and of order. but if these unions of races did not work thus; if, for example, the two races were so near akin that their morals united as well as their breeds, if one race by its great numbers and prepotent organisation so presided over the other as to take it up and assimilate it, and leave no separate remains of it, then the admixture was invaluable. it added to the probability of variability, and therefore of improvement; and if that improvement even in part took the military line, it might give the mixed and ameliorated state a steady advantage in the battle of nations, and a greater chance of lasting in the world. another mode in which one state acquires a superiority over competing states is by provisional institutions, if i may so call them. the most important of these--slavery--arises out of the same early conquest as the mixture of races. a slave is an unassimilated, an undigested atom; something which is in the body politic, but yet is hardly part of it. slavery, too, has a bad name in the later world, and very justly. we connect it with gangs in chains, with laws which keep men ignorant, with laws that hinder families. but the evils which we have endured from slavery in recent ages must not blind us to, or make us forget, the great services that slavery rendered in early ages. there is a wonderful presumption in its favour; it is one of the institutions which, at a certain stage of growth, all nations in all countries choose and cleave to. 'slavery,' says aristotle, 'exists by the law of nature,' meaning that it was everywhere to be found--was a rudimentary universal point of polity. 'there are very many english colonies,' said edward gibbon wakefield, as late as , 'who would keep slaves at once if we would let them,' and he was speaking not only of old colonies trained in slavery, and raised upon the products of it, but likewise of new colonies started by freemen, and which ought, one would think, to wish to contain freemen only. but wakefield knew what he was saying; he was a careful observer of rough societies, and he had watched the minds of men in them. he had seen that leisure is the great need of early societies, and slaves only can give men leisure. all freemen in new countries must be pretty equal; every one has labour, and every one has land; capital, at least in agricultural countries (for pastoral countries are very different), is of little use; it cannot hire labour; the labourers go and work for themselves. there is a story often told of a great english capitalist who went out to australia with a shipload of labourers and a carriage; his plan was that the labourers should build a house for him, and that he would keep his carriage, just as in england. but (so the story goes) he had to try to live in his carriage, for his labourers left him, and went away to work for themselves. in such countries there can be few gentlemen and no ladies. refinement is only possible when leisure is possible; and slavery first makes it possible. it creates a set of persons born to work that others may not work, and not to think in order that others may think. the sort of originality which slavery gives is of the first practical advantage in early communities; and the repose it gives is a great artistic advantage when they come to be described in history. the patriarchs abraham, isaac, and jacob could not have had the steady calm which marks them, if they had themselves been teased and hurried about their flocks and herds. refinement of feeling and repose of appearance have indeed no market value in the early bidding of nations; they do not tend to secure themselves a long future or any future. but originality in war does, and slave-owning nations, having time to think, are likely to be more shrewd in policy, and more crafty in strategy. no doubt this momentary gain is bought at a ruinous after-cost. when other sources of leisure become possible, the one use of slavery is past. but all its evils remain, and even grow worse. 'retail' slavery--the slavery in which a master owns a few slaves, whom he well knows and daily sees--is not at all an intolerable state; the slaves of abraham had no doubt a fair life, as things went in that day. but wholesale slavery, where men are but one of the investments of large capital, and where a great owner, so far from knowing each slave, can hardly tell how many gangs of them he works, is an abominable state. this is the slavery which has made the name revolting to the best minds, and has nearly rooted the thing out of the best of the world. there is no out-of-the-way marvel in this. the whole history of civilisation, is strewn with creeds and institutions which were invaluable at first, and deadly afterwards. progress would not have been the rarity it is if the early food had not been the late poison. a full examination of these provisional institutions would need half a volume, and would be out of place and useless here. venerable oligarchy, august monarchy, are two that would alone need large chapters. but the sole point here necessary is to say that such preliminary forms and feelings at first often bring many graces and many refinements, and often tend to secure them by the preservative military virtue. there are cases in which some step in intellectual progress gives an early society some gain in war; more obvious cases are when some kind of moral quality gives some such gain. war both needs and generates certain virtues; not the highest, but what may be called the preliminary virtues, as valour, veracity, the spirit of obedience, the habit of discipline. any of these, and of others like them, when possessed by a nation, and no matter how generated, will give them a military advantage, and make them more likely to stay in the race of nations. the romans probably had as much of these efficacious virtues as any race of the ancient world,--perhaps as much as any race in the modern world too. and the success of the nations which possess these martial virtues has been the great means by which their continuance has been secured in the world, and the destruction of the opposite vices insured also. conquest is the missionary of valour, and the hard impact of military virtues beats meanness out of the world. in the last century it would have sounded strange to speak, as i am going to speak, of the military advantage of religion. such an idea would have been opposed to ruling prejudices, and would hardly have escaped philosophical ridicule. but the notion is but a commonplace in our day, for a man of genius has made it his own. mr. carlyle's books are deformed by phrases like 'infinities' and 'verities' and altogether are full of faults, which attract the very young, and deter all that are older. in spite of his great genius, after a long life of writing, it is a question still whether even a single work of his can take a lasting place in high literature. there is a want of sanity in their manner which throws a suspicion on their substance (though it is often profound); and he brandishes one or two fallacies, of which he has himself a high notion, but which plain people will always detect and deride. but whatever may be the fate of his fame, mr. carlyle has taught the present generation many lessons, and one of these is that 'god-fearing' armies are the best armies. before his time people laughed at cromwell's saying, 'trust in god, and keep your powder dry.' but we now know that the trust was of as much use as the powder, if not of more. that high concentration of steady feeling makes men dare everything and do anything. this subject would run to an infinite extent if any one were competent to handle it. those kinds of morals and that kind of religion which tend to make the firmest and most effectual character are sure to prevail, all else being the same; and creeds or systems that conduce to a soft limp mind tend to perish, except some hard extrinsic force keep them alive. thus epicureanism never prospered at rome, but stoicism did; the stiff, serious character of the great prevailing nation was attracted by what seemed a confirming creed, and deterred by what looked like a relaxing creed. the inspiriting doctrines fell upon the ardent character, and so confirmed its energy. strong beliefs win strong men, and then make them stronger. such is no doubt one cause why monotheism tends to prevail over polytheism; it produces a higher, steadier character, calmed and concentrated by a great single object; it is not confused by competing rites, or distracted by miscellaneous deities. polytheism is religion in commission, and it is weak accordingly. but it will be said the jews, who were monotheist, were conquered by the romans, who were polytheist. yes, it must be answered, because the romans had other gifts; they had a capacity for politics, a habit of discipline, and of these the jews had not the least. the religious advantage was an advantage, but it was counter-weighed. no one should be surprised at the prominence given to war. we are dealing with early ages; nation-making is the occupation of man in these ages, and it is war that makes nations. nation-changing comes afterwards, and is mostly effected by peaceful revolution, though even then war, too, plays its part. the idea of an indestructible nation is a modern idea; in early ages all nations were destructible, and the further we go back, the more incessant was the work of destruction. the internal decoration of nations is a sort of secondary process, which succeeds when the main forces that create nations have principally done their work. we have here been concerned with the political scaffolding; it will be the task of other papers to trace the process of political finishing and building. the nicer play of finer forces may then require more pleasing thoughts than the fierce fights of early ages can ever suggest. it belongs to the idea of progress that beginnings can never seem attractive to those who live far on; the price of improvement is, that the unimproved will always look degraded. but how far are the strongest nations really the best nations? how far is excellence in war a criterion of other excellence? i cannot answer this now fully, but three or four considerations are very plain. war, as i have said, nourishes the 'preliminary' virtues, and this is almost as much as to say that there are virtues which it does not nourish. all which may be called 'grace' as well as virtue it does not nourish; humanity, charity, a nice sense of the rights of others, it certainly does not foster. the insensibility to human suffering, which is so striking a fact in the world as it stood when history first reveals it, is doubtless due to the warlike origin of the old civilisation. bred in war, and nursed in war, it could not revolt from the things of war, and one of the principal of these is human pain. since war has ceased to be the moving force in the world, men have become more tender one to another, and shrink from what they used to inflict without caring; and this not so much because men are improved (which may or may not be in various cases), but because they have no longer the daily habit of war--have no longer formed their notions upon war, and therefore are guided by thoughts and feelings which soldiers as such--soldiers educated simply by their trade--are too hard to understand. very like this is the contempt for physical weakness and for women which marks early society too. the non-combatant population is sure to fare ill during the ages of combat. but these defects, too, are cured or lessened; women have now marvellous means of winning their way in the world; and mind without muscle has far greater force than muscle without mind. these are some of the after-changes in the interior of nations, of which the causes must be scrutinised, and i now mention them only to bring out how many softer growths have now half-hidden the old and harsh civilisation which war made. but it is very dubious whether the spirit of war does not still colour our morality far too much. metaphors from law and metaphors from war make most of our current moral phrases, and a nice examination would easily explain that both rather vitiate what both often illustrate. the military habit makes man think far too much of definite action, and far too little of brooding meditation. life is not a set campaign, but an irregular work, and the main forces in it are not overt resolutions, but latent and half-involuntary promptings. the mistake of military ethics is to exaggerate the conception of discipline, and so to present the moral force of the will in a barer form than it ever ought to take. military morals can direct the axe to cut down the tree, but it knows nothing of the quiet force by which the forest grows. what has been said is enough, i hope, to bring out that there are many qualities and many institutions of the most various sort which give nations an advantage in military competition; that most of these and most warlike qualities tend principally to good; that the constant winning of these favoured competitors is the particular mode by which the best qualities wanted in elementary civilisation are propagated and preserved. no. iii nation-making. in the last essay i endeavoured to show that in the early age of man--the 'fighting age' i called it--there was a considerable, though not certain, tendency towards progress. the best nations conquered the worst; by the possession of one advantage or another the best competitor overcame the inferior competitor. so long as there was continual fighting there was a likelihood of improvement in martial virtues, and in early times many virtues are really 'martial'--that is, tend to success in war--which in later times we do not think of so calling, because the original usefulness is hid by their later usefulness. we judge of them by the present effects, not by their first. the love of law, for example, is a virtue which no one now would call martial, yet in early times it disciplined nations, and the disciplined nations won. the gift of 'conservative innovation'--the gift of matching new institutions to old--is not nowadays a warlike virtue, yet the romans owed much of their success to it. alone among ancient nations they had the deference to usage which, combines nations, and the partial permission of selected change which improves nations; and therefore they succeeded. just so in most cases, all through the earliest times, martial merit is a token of real merit: the nation that wins is the nation that ought to win. the simple virtues of such ages mostly make a man a soldier if they make him anything. no doubt the brute force of number may be too potent even then (as so often it is afterwards): civilisation may be thrown back by the conquest of many very rude men over a few less rude men. but the first elements of civilisation are great military advantages, and, roughly, it is a rule of the first times that you can infer merit from conquest, and that progress is promoted by the competitive examination of constant war. this principle explains at once why the 'protected' regions of the world--the interior of continents like africa, outlying islands like australia or new zealand--are of necessity backward. they are still in the preparatory school; they have not been taken on class by class, as no. ii., being a little better, routed effaced no. i.; and as no. iii., being a little better still, routed and effaced no. ii. and it explains why western europe was early in advance of other countries, because there the contest of races was exceedingly severe. unlike most regions, it was a tempting part of the world, and yet not a corrupting part; those who did not possess it wanted it, and those who had it, not being enervated, could struggle hard to keep it. the conflict of nations is at first a main force in the improvement of nations. but what are nations? what are these groups which are so familiar to us, and yet, if we stop to think, so strange; which are as old as history; which herodotus found in almost as great numbers and with quite as marked distinctions as we see them now? what breaks the human race up into fragments so unlike one another, and yet each in its interior so monotonous? the question is most puzzling, though the fact is so familiar, and i would not venture to say that i can answer it completely, though i can advance some considerations which, as it seems to me, go a certain way towards answering it. perhaps these same considerations throw some light, too, on the further and still more interesting question why some few nations progress, and why the greater part do not. of course at first all such distinctions of nation and nation were explained by original diversity of race. they are dissimilar, it was said, because they were created dissimilar. but in most cases this easy supposition will not do its work. you cannot (consistently with plain facts) imagine enough original races to make it tenable. some half-dozen or more great families of men may or may not have been descended from separate first stocks, but sub-varieties have certainly not so descended. you may argue, rightly or wrongly, that all aryan nations are of a single or peculiar origin, just as it was long believed that all greek-speaking nations were of one such stock. but you will not be listened to if you say that there were one adam and eve for sparta, and another adam and eve for athens. all greeks are evidently of one origin, but within the limits of the greek family, as of all other families, there is some contrast-making force which causes city to be unlike city, and tribe unlike tribe. certainly, too, nations did not originate by simple natural selection, as wild varieties of animals (i do not speak now of species) no doubt arise in nature. natural selection means the preservation of those individuals which struggle best with the forces that oppose their race. but you could not show that the natural obstacles opposing human life much differed between sparta and athens, or indeed between rome and athens; and yet spartans, athenians, and romans differ essentially. old writers fancied (and it was a very natural idea) that the direct effect of climate, or rather of land, sea, and air, and the sum total of physical conditions varied man from man, and changed race to race. but experience refutes this. the english immigrant lives in the same climate as the australian or tasmanian, but he has not become like those races; nor will a thousand years, in most respects, make him like them. the papuan and the malay, as mr. wallace finds, live now, and have lived for ages, side by side in the same tropical regions, with every sort of diversity. even in animals his researches show, as by an object-lesson, that the direct efficacy of physical conditions is overrated. 'borneo,' he says 'closely resembles new guinea, not only in its vast size and freedom from volcanoes, but in its variety of geological structure, its uniformity of climate, and the general aspect of the forest vegetation that clothes its surface. the moluccas are the counterpart of the philippines in their volcanic structure, their extreme fertility, their luxuriant forests, and their frequent earthquakes; and bali, with the east end of java, has a climate almost as arid as that of timor. yet between these corresponding groups of islands, constructed, as it were, after the same pattern, subjected to the same climate, and bathed by the same oceans, there exists the greatest possible contrast, when we compare their animal productions. nowhere does the ancient doctrine--that differences or similarities in the various forms of life that inhabit different countries are due to corresponding physical differences or similarities in the countries themselves--meet with so direct and palpable a contradiction. borneo and new guinea, as alike physically as two distinct countries can be, are zoologically as wide as the poles asunder; while australia, with its dry winds, its open plains, its stony deserts and its temperate climate, yet produces birds and quadrupeds which are closely related to those inhabiting the hot, damp, luxuriant forests which everywhere clothe the plains and mountains of new guinea.' that is, we have like living things in the most dissimilar situations, and unlike living things in the most similar ones. and though some of mr. wallace's speculations on ethnology may be doubtful, no one doubts that in the archipelago he has studied so well, as often elsewhere in the world, though rarely with such marked emphasis, we find like men in contrasted places, and unlike men in resembling places. climate is clearly not the force which makes nations, for it does not always make them, and they are often made without it. the problem of 'nation-making'--that is, the explanation of the origin of nations such as we now see them, and such as in historical times they have always been--cannot, as it seems to me, be solved without separating it into two: one, the making of broadly-marked races, such as the negro, or the red man, or the european; and the second, that of making the minor distinctions, such as the distinction between spartan and athenian, or between scotchman and englishman. nations, as we see them, are (if my arguments prove true) the produce of two great forces: one the race-making force which, whatever it was, acted in antiquity, and has now wholly, or almost, given over acting; and the other the nation-making force, properly so called, which is acting now as much as it ever acted, and creating as much as it ever created. the strongest light on the great causes which have formed and are forming nations is thrown by the smaller causes which are altering nations. the way in which nations change, generation after generation, is exceedingly curious, and the change occasionally happens when it is very hard to account for. something seems to steal over society, say of the regency time as compared with that of the present queen. if we read of life at windsor (at the cottage now pulled down), or of bond street as it was in the days of the loungers (an extinct race), or of st. james's street as it was when mr. fox and his party tried to make 'political capital' out of the dissipation of an heir apparent, we seem to be reading not of the places we know so well, but of very distant and unlike localities. or let anyone think how little is the external change in england between the age of elizabeth and the age of anne compared with the national change. how few were the alterations in physical condition, how few (if any) the scientific inventions affecting human life which the later period possessed, but the earlier did not! how hard it is to say what has caused the change in the people! and yet how total is the contrast, at least at first sight! in passing from bacon to addison, from shakespeare to pope, we seem to pass into a new world. in the first of these essays i spoke of the mode in which the literary change happens, and i recur to it because, literature being narrower and more definite than life, a change in the less serves as a model and illustration of the change in the greater. some writer, as was explained, not necessarily a very excellent writer or a remembered one, hit on something which suited the public taste: he went on writing, and others imitated him, and they so accustomed their readers to that style that they would bear nothing else. those readers who did not like it were driven to the works of other ages and other countries,--had to despise the 'trash of the day,' as they would call it. the age of anne patronised steele, the beginner of the essay, and addison its perfecter, and it neglected writings in a wholly discordant key. i have heard that the founder of the 'times' was asked how all the articles in the 'times' came to seem to be written by one man, and that he replied--'oh, there is always some one best contributor, and all the rest copy.' and this is doubtless the true account of the manner in which a certain trade mark, a curious and indefinable unity, settles on every newspaper. perhaps it would be possible to name the men who a few years since created the 'saturday review' style, now imitated by another and a younger race. but when the style of a periodical is once formed, the continuance of it is preserved by a much more despotic impulse than the tendency to imitation,--by the self-interest of the editor, who acts as trustee, if i may say so, for the subscribers. the regular buyers of a periodical want to read what they have been used to read--the same sort of thought, the same sort of words. the editor sees that they get that sort. he selects the suitable, the conforming articles, and he rejects the non-conforming. what the editor does in the case of a periodical, the readers do in the case of literature in general. they patronise one thing and reject the rest. of course there was always some reason (if we only could find it) which gave the prominence in each age to some particular winning literature. there always is some reason why the fashion of female dress is what it is. but just as in the case of dress we know that now-a-days the determining cause is very much of an accident, so in the case of literary fashion, the origin is a good deal of an accident. what the milliners of paris, or the demi-monde of paris, enjoin our english ladies, is (i suppose) a good deal chance; but as soon as it is decreed, those whom it suits and those whom it does not all wear it. the imitative propensity at once insures uniformity; and 'that horrid thing we wore last year' (as the phrase may go) is soon nowhere to be seen. just so a literary fashion spreads, though i am far from saying with equal primitive unreasonableness--a literary taste always begins on some decent reason, but once started, it is propagated as a fashion in dress is propagated; even those who do not like it read it because it is there, and because nothing else is easily to be found. the same patronage of favoured forms, and persecution of disliked forms, are the main causes too, i believe, which change national character. some one attractive type catches the eye, so to speak, of the nation, or a part of the nation, as servants catch the gait of their masters, or as mobile girls come home speaking the special words and acting the little gestures of each family whom they may have been visiting. i do not know if many of my readers happen to have read father newman's celebrated sermon, 'personal influence the means of propagating the truth;' if not, i strongly recommend them to do so. they will there see the opinion of a great practical leader of men, of one who has led very many where they little thought of going, as to the mode in which they are to be led; and what he says, put shortly and simply, and taken out of his delicate language, is but this--that men are guided by type, not by argument; that some winning instance must be set up before them, or the sermon will be vain, and the doctrine will not spread. i do not want to illustrate this matter from religious history, for i should be led far from my purpose, and after all i can but teach the commonplace that it is the life of teachers which is catching, not their tenets. and again, in political matters, how quickly a leading statesman can change the tone of the community! we are most of us earnest with mr. gladstone; we were most of not so earnest in the time of lord palmerston. the change is what every one feels, though no one can define it. each predominant mind calls out a corresponding sentiment in the country: most feel it a little. those who feel it much express it much; those who feel it excessively express it excessively; those who dissent are silent, or unheard. after such great matters as religion and politics, it may seem trifling to illustrate the subject from little boys. but it is not trifling. the bane of philosophy is pomposity: people will not see that small things are the miniatures of greater, and it seems a loss of abstract dignity to freshen their minds by object lessons from what they know. but every boarding-school changes as a nation changes. most of us may remember thinking, 'how odd it is that this "half" should be so unlike last "half:" now we never go out of bounds, last half we were always going: now we play rounders, then we played prisoner's base;' and so through all the easy life of that time. in fact, some ruling spirits, some one or two ascendant boys, had left, one or two others had come; and so all was changed. the models were changed, and the copies changed; a different thing was praised, and a different thing bullied. a curious case of the same tendency was noticed to me only lately. a friend of mine--a liberal conservative--addressed a meeting of working men at leeds, and was much pleased at finding his characteristic, and perhaps refined points, both apprehended and applauded. 'but then,' as he narrated, 'up rose a blatant radical who said the very opposite things, and the working men cheered him too, and quite equally.' he was puzzled to account for so rapid a change. but the mass of the meeting was no doubt nearly neutral, and, if set going, quite ready to applaud any good words without much thinking. the ringleaders changed. the radical tailor started the radical cheer; the more moderate shoemaker started the moderate cheer; and the great bulk followed suit. only a few in each case were silent, and an absolute contrast was in ten minutes presented by the same elements. the truth is that the propensity of man to imitate what is before him is one of the strongest parts of his nature. and one sign of it is the great pain which we feel when our imitation has been unsuccessful. there is a cynical doctrine that most men would rather be accused of wickedness than of gaucherie. and this is but another way of saying that the bad copying of predominant manners is felt to be more of a disgrace than common consideration would account for its being, since gaucherie in all but extravagant cases is not an offence against religion or morals, but is simply bad imitation. we must not think that this imitation is voluntary, or even conscious. on the contrary, it has its seat mainly in very obscure parts of the mind, whose notions, so far from having been consciously produced, are hardly felt to exist; so far from being conceived beforehand, are not even felt at the time. the main seat of the imitative part of our nature is our belief, and the causes predisposing us to believe this, or disinclining us to believe that, are among the obscurest parts of our nature. but as to the imitative nature of credulity there can be no doubt. in 'eothen' there is a capital description of how every sort of european resident in the east, even the shrewd merchant and 'the post-captain,' with his bright, wakeful eyes of commerce, comes soon to believe in witchcraft, and to assure you, in confidence, that there 'really is something in it.' he has never seen anything convincing himself, but he has seen those who have seen those who have seen those who have seen. in fact, he has lived in an atmosphere of infectious belief, and he has inhaled it. scarcely any one can help yielding to the current infatuations of his sect or party. for a short time--say some fortnight--he is resolute; he argues and objects; but, day by day, the poison thrives, and reason wanes. what he hears from his friends, what he reads in the party organ, produces its effect. the plain, palpable conclusion which every one around him believes, has an influence yet greater and more subtle; that conclusion seems so solid and unmistakable; his own good arguments get daily more and more like a dream. soon the gravest sage shares the folly of the party with which he acts, and the sect with which he worships. in true metaphysics i believe that, contrary to common opinion, unbelief far oftener needs a reason and requires an effort than belief. naturally, and if man were made according to the pattern of the logicians, he would say, 'when i see a valid argument i will believe, and till i see such argument i will not believe.' but, in fact, every idea vividly before us soon appears to us to be true, unless we keep up our perceptions of the arguments which prove it untrue, and voluntarily coerce our minds to remember its falsehood. 'all clear ideas are true,' was for ages a philosophical maxim, and though no maxim can be more unsound, none can be more exactly conformable to ordinary human nature. the child resolutely accepts every idea which passes through its brain as true; it has no distinct conception of an idea which is strong, bright, and permanent, but which is false too. the mere presentation of an idea, unless we are careful about it, or unless there is within some unusual resistance, makes us believe it; and this is why the belief of others adds to our belief so quickly, for no ideas seem so very clear as those inculcated on us from every side. the grave part of mankind are quite as liable to these imitated beliefs as the frivolous part. the belief of the money-market, which is mainly composed of grave people, is as imitative as any belief. you will find one day everyone enterprising, enthusiastic, vigorous, eager to buy, and eager to order: in a week or so you will find almost the whole society depressed, anxious, and wanting to sell. if you examine the reasons for the activity, or for the inactivity, or for the change, you will hardly be able to trace them at all, and as far as you can trace them, they are of little force. in fact, these opinions were not formed by reason, but by mimicry. something happened that looked a little good, on which eager sanguine men talked loudly, and common people caught their tone. a little while afterwards, and when people were tired of talking this, something also happened looking a little bad, on which the dismal, anxious people began, and all the rest followed their words. and in both cases an avowed dissentient is set down as 'crotchety.' 'if you want,' said swift, 'to gain the reputation of a sensible man, you should be of the opinion of the person with whom for the time being you are conversing.' there is much quiet intellectual persecution among 'reasonable' men; a cautious person hesitates before he tells them anything new, for if he gets a name for such things he will be called 'flighty,' and in times of decision he will not be attended to. in this way the infection of imitation catches men in their most inward and intellectual part--their creed. but it also invades men--by the most bodily part of the mind--so to speak--the link between soul and body--the manner. no one needs to have this explained; we all know how a kind of subtle influence makes us imitate or try to imitate the manner of those around us. to conform to the fashion of rome--whatever the fashion may be, and whatever rome we may for the time be at--is among the most obvious needs of human nature. but what is not so obvious, though as certain, is that the influence of the imitation goes deep as well as extends wide. 'the matter,' as wordsworth says, 'of style very much comes out of the manner.' if you will endeavour to write an imitation of the thoughts of swift in a copy of the style of addison, you will find that not only is it hard to write addison's style, from its intrinsic excellence, but also that the more you approach to it the more you lose the thought of swift. the eager passion of the meaning beats upon the mild drapery of the words. so you could not express the plain thoughts of an englishman in the grand manner of a spaniard. insensibly, and as by a sort of magic, the kind of manner which a man catches eats into him, and makes him in the end what at first he only seems. this is the principal mode in which the greatest minds of an age produce their effect. they set the tone which others take, and the fashion which others use. there is an odd idea that those who take what is called a 'scientific view' of history need rate lightly the influence of individual character. it would be as reasonable to say that those who take a scientific view of nature need think little of the influence of the sun. on the scientific view a great man is a great new cause (compounded or not out of other causes, for i do not here, or elsewhere in these papers, raise the question of free-will), but, anyhow, new in all its effects, and all its results. great models for good and evil sometimes appear among men, who follow them either to improvement or degradation. i am, i know, very long and tedious in setting out this; but i want to bring home to others what every new observation of society brings more and more freshly to myself--that this unconscious imitation and encouragement of appreciated character, and this equally unconscious shrinking from and persecution of disliked character, is the main force which moulds and fashions men in society as we now see it. soon i shall try to show that the more acknowledged causes, such as change of climate, alteration of political institutions, progress of science, act principally through this cause; that they change the object of imitation and the object of avoidance, and so work their effect. but first i must speak of the origin of nations--of nation-making as one may call it--the proper subject of this paper. the process of nation-making is one of which we have obvious examples in the most recent times, and which is going on now. the most simple example is the foundation of the first state of america, say new england, which has such a marked and such a deep national character. a great number of persons agreeing in fundamental disposition, agreeing in religion, agreeing in politics, form a separate settlement; they exaggerate their own disposition, teach their own creed, set up their favourite government; they discourage all other dispositions, persecute other beliefs, forbid other forms or habits of government. of course a nation so made will have a separate stamp and mark. the original settlers began of one type; they sedulously imitated it; and (though other causes have intervened and disturbed it) the necessary operation of the principles of inheritance has transmitted many original traits still unaltered, and has left an entire new england character--in no respect unaffected by its first character. this case is well known, but it is not so that the same process, in a weaker shape, is going on in america now. congeniality of sentiment is a reason of selection, and a bond of cohesion in the 'west' at present. competent observers say that townships grow up there by each place taking its own religion, its own manners, and its own ways. those who have these morals and that religion go to that place, and stay there; and those who have not these morals and that religion either settle elsewhere at first, or soon pass on. the days of colonisation by sudden 'swarms' of like creed is almost over, but a less visible process of attraction by similar faith over similar is still in vigour, and very likely to continue. and in cases where this principle does not operate all new settlements, being formed of 'emigrants,' are sure to be composed of rather restless people, mainly. the stay-at-home people are not to be found there, and these are the quiet, easy people. a new settlement voluntarily formed (for of old times, when people were expelled by terror, i am not speaking) is sure to have in it much more than the ordinary proportion of active men, and much less than the ordinary proportion of inactive; and this accounts for a large part, though not perhaps all, of the difference between the english in england, and the english in australia. the causes which formed new england in recent times cannot be conceived as acting much upon mankind in their infancy. society is not then formed upon a 'voluntary system' but upon an involuntary. a man in early ages is born to a certain obedience, and cannot extricate himself from an inherited government. society then is made up, not of individuals, but of families; creeds then descend by inheritance in those families. lord melbourne once incurred the ridicule of philosophers by saying he should adhere to the english church because it was the religion of his fathers. the philosophers, of course, said that a man's fathers' believing anything was no reason for his believing it unless it was true. but lord melbourne was only uttering out of season, and in a modern time, one of the most firm and accepted maxims of old times. a secession on religious grounds of isolated romans to sail beyond sea would have seemed to the ancient romans an impossibility. in still ruder ages the religion of savages is a thing too feeble to create a schism or to found a community. we are dealing with people capable of history when we speak of great ideas, not with prehistoric flint-men or the present savages. but though under very different forms, the same essential causes--the imitation of preferred characters and the elimination of detested characters--were at work in the oldest times, and are at work among rude men now. strong as the propensity to imitation is among civilised men, we must conceive it as an impulse of which their minds have been partially denuded. like the far-seeing sight, the infallible hearing, the magical scent of the savage, it is a half-lost power. it was strongest in ancient times, and is strongest in uncivilised regions. this extreme propensity to imitation is one great reason of the amazing sameness which every observer notices in savage nations. when you have seen one euegian, you have seen all fuegians--one tasmanian, all tasmanians. the higher savages, as the new zealanders, are less uniform; they have more of the varied and compact structure of civilised nations, because in other respects they are more civilised. they have greater mental capacity--larger stores of inward thought. but much of the same monotonous nature clings to them too. a savage tribe resembles a herd of gregarious beasts; where the leader goes they go too; they copy blindly his habits, and thus soon become that which he already is. for not only the tendency, but also the power to imitate, is stronger in savages than civilised men. savages copy quicker, and they copy better. children, in the same way, are born mimics; they cannot help imitating what comes before them. there is nothing in their minds to resist the propensity to copy. every educated man has a large inward supply of ideas to which he can retire, and in which he can escape from or alleviate unpleasant outward objects. but a savage or a child has no resource. the external movements before it are its very life; it lives by what it sees and hears. uneducated people in civilised nations have vestiges of the same condition. if you send a housemaid and a philosopher to a foreign country of which neither knows the language, the chances are that the housemaid will catch it before the philosopher. he has something else to do; he can live in his own thoughts. but unless she can imitate the utterances, she is lost; she has no life till she can join in the chatter of the kitchen. the propensity to mimicry, and the power of mimicry, are mostly strongest in those who have least abstract minds. the most wonderful examples of imitation in the world are perhaps the imitations of civilised men by savages in the use of martial weapons. they learn the knack, as sportsmen call it, with inconceivable rapidity. a north american indian--an australian even--can shoot as well as any white man. here the motive is at its maximum, as well as the innate power. every savage cares more for the power of killing than for any other power. the persecuting tendency of all savages, and, indeed, of all ignorant people, is even more striking than their imitative tendency. no barbarian can bear to see one of his nation deviate from the old barbarous customs and usages of their tribe. very commonly all the tribe would expect a punishment from the gods if any one of them refrained from what was old, or began what was new. in modern times and in cultivated countries we regard each person as responsible only for his own actions, and do not believe, or think of believing, that the misconduct of others can bring guilt on them. guilt to us is an individual taint consequent on choice and cleaving to the chooser. but in early ages the act of one member of the tribe is conceived to make all the tribe impious, to offend its peculiar god, to expose all the tribe to penalties from heaven. there is no 'limited liability' in the political notions of that time. the early tribe or nation is a religious partnership, on which a rash member by a sudden impiety may bring utter ruin. if the state is conceived thus, toleration becomes wicked. a permitted deviation from the transmitted ordinances becomes simple folly. it is a sacrifice of the happiness of the greatest number. it is allowing one individual, for a moment's pleasure or a stupid whim, to bring terrible and irretrievable calamity upon all. no one will ever understand even athenian history, who forgets this idea of the old world, though athens was, in comparison with others, a rational and sceptical place, ready for new views, and free from old prejudices. when the street statues of hermes were mutilated, all the athenians were frightened and furious; they thought that they should all be ruined because some one had mutilated a god's image, and so offended him. almost every detail of life in the classical times--the times when real history opens--was invested with a religious sanction; a sacred ritual regulated human action; whether it was called 'law' or not, much of it was older than the word 'law;' it was part of an ancient usage conceived as emanating from a superhuman authority, and not to be transgressed without risk of punishment by more than mortal power. there was such a solidarite then between citizens, that each might be led to persecute the other for fear of harm to himself. it may be said that these two tendencies of the early world--that to persecution and that to imitation--must conflict; that the imitative impulse would lead men to copy what is new, and that persecution by traditional habit would prevent their copying it. but in practice the two tendencies co-operate. there is a strong tendency to copy the most common thing, and that common thing is the old habit. daily imitation is far oftenest a conservative force, for the most frequent models are ancient. of course, however, something new is necessary for every man and for every nation. we may wish, if we please, that to-morrow shall be like to-day, but it will not be like it. new forces will impinge upon us; new wind, new rain, and the light of another sun; and we must alter to meet them. but the persecuting habit and the imitative combine to insure that the new thing shall be in the old fashion; it must be an alteration, but it shall contain as little of variety as possible. the imitative impulse tends to this, because men most easily imitate what their minds are best prepared for,--what is like the old, yet with the inevitable minimum of alteration; what throws them least out of the old path, and puzzles least their minds. the doctrine of development means this,--that in unavoidable changes men like the new doctrine which is most of a 'preservative addition' to their old doctrines. the imitative and the persecuting tendencies make all change in early nations a kind of selective conservatism, for the most part keeping what is old, but annexing some new but like practice--an additional turret in the old style. it is this process of adding suitable things and rejecting discordant things which has raised those scenes of strange manners which in every part of the world puzzle the civilised men who come upon them first. like the old head-dress of mountain villages, they make the traveller think not so much whether they are good or whether they are bad, as wonder how any one could have come to think of them; to regard them as 'monstrosities,' which only some wild abnormal intellect could have hit upon. and wild and abnormal indeed would be that intellect if it were a single one at all. but in fact such manners are the growth of ages, like roman law or the british constitution. no one man--no one generation--could have thought of them,--only a series of generations trained in the habits of the last and wanting something akin to such habits, could have devised them. savages pet their favourite habits, so to say, and preserve them as they do their favourite animals; ages are required, but at last a national character is formed by the confluence of congenial attractions and accordant detestations. another cause helps. in early states of civilisation there is a great mortality of infant life, and this is a kind of selection in itself--the child most fit to be a good spartan is most likely to survive a spartan childhood. the habits of the tribe are enforced on the child; if he is able to catch and copy them he lives; if he cannot he dies. the imitation which assimilates early nations continues through life, but it begins with suitable forms and acts on picked specimens. i suppose, too, that there is a kind of parental selection operating in the same way and probably tending to keep alive the same individuals. those children which gratified their fathers and mothers most would be most tenderly treated by them, and have the best chance to live, and as a rough rule their favourites would be the children of most 'promise,' that is to say, those who seemed most likely to be a credit to the tribe according to the leading tribal manners and the existing tribal tastes. the most gratifying child would be the best looked after, and the most gratifying would be the best specimen of the standard then and there raised up. even so, i think there will be a disinclination to attribute so marked, fixed, almost physical a thing as national character to causes so evanescent as the imitation of appreciated habit and the persecution of detested habit. but, after all, national character is but a name for a collection of habits more or less universal. and this imitation and this persecution in long generations have vast physical effects. the mind of the parent (as we speak) passes somehow to the body of the child. the transmitted 'something' is more affected by habits than, it is by anything else. in time an ingrained type is sure to be formed, and sure to be passed on if only the causes i have specified be fully in action and without impediment. as i have said, i am not explaining the origin of races, but of nations, or, if you like, of tribes. i fully admit that no imitation of predominant manner, or prohibitions of detested manners, will of themselves account for the broadest contrasts of human nature. such means would no more make a negro out of a brahmin, or a red-man out of an englishman, than washing would change the spots of a leopard or the colour of an ethiopian. some more potent causes must co-operate, or we should not have these enormous diversities. the minor causes i deal with made greek to differ from greek, but they did not make the greek race. we cannot precisely mark the limit, but a limit there clearly is. if we look at the earliest monuments of the human race, we find these race-characters as decided as the race-characters now. the earliest paintings or sculptures we anywhere have, give us the present contrasts of dissimilar types as strongly as present observation. within historical memory no such differences have been created as those between negro and greek, between papuan and red indian, between esquimaux and goth. we start with cardinal diversities; we trace only minor modifications, and we only see minor modifications. and it is very hard to see how any number of such modifications could change man as he is in one race-type to man as he is in some other. of this there are but two explanations; one, that these great types were originally separate creations, as they stand--that the negro was made so, and the greek made so. but this easy hypothesis of special creation has been tried so often, and has broken down so very often, that in no case, probably, do any great number of careful inquirers very firmly believe it. they may accept it provisionally, as the best hypothesis at present, but they feel about it as they cannot help feeling as to an army which has always been beaten; however strong it seems, they think it will be beaten again. what the other explanation is exactly i cannot pretend to say. possibly as yet the data for a confident opinion are not before us. but by far the most plausible suggestion is that of mr. wallace, that these race-marks are living records of a time when the intellect of man was not as able as it is now to adapt his life and habits to change of region; that consequently early mortality in the first wanderers was beyond conception great; that only those (so to say) haphazard individuals throve who were born with a protected nature--that is, a nature suited to the climate and the country, fitted to use its advantages, shielded from its natural diseases. according to mr. wallace, the negro is the remnant of the one variety of man who without more adaptiveness than then existed could live in interior africa. immigrants died off till they produced him or something like him, and so of the esquimaux or the american. any protective habit also struck out in such a time would have a far greater effect than it could afterwards. a gregarious tribe, whose leader was in some imitable respects adapted to the struggle for life, and which copied its leader, would have an enormous advantage in the struggle for life. it would be sure to win and live, for it would be coherent and adapted, whereas, in comparison, competing tribes would be incoherent and unadapted. and i suppose that in early times, when those bodies did not already contain the records and the traces of endless generations, any new habit would more easily fix its mark on the heritable element, and would be transmitted more easily and more certainly. in such an age, man being softer and more pliable, deeper race-marks would be more easily inscribed and would be more likely to continue legible. but i have no pretence to speak on such matters; this paper, as i have so often explained, deals with nation-making and not with race-making. i assume a world of marked varieties of man, and only want to show how less marked contrasts would probably and naturally arise in each. given large homogeneous populations, some negro, some mongolian, some aryan, i have tried to prove how small contrasting groups would certainly spring up within each--some to last and some to perish. these are the eddies in each race-stream which vary its surface, and are sure to last till some new force changes the current. these minor varieties, too, would be infinitely compounded, not only with those of the same race, but with those of others. since the beginning of man, stream has been a thousand times poured into stream--quick into sluggish, dark into pale--and eddies and waters have taken new shapes and new colours, affected by what went before, but not resembling it. and then on the fresh mass, the old forces of composition and elimination again begin to act, and create over the new surface another world. 'motley was the wear' of the world when herodotus first looked on it and described it to us, and thus, as it seems to me, were its varying colours produced. if it be thought that i have made out that these forces of imitation and elimination be the main ones, or even at all powerful ones, in the formation of national character, it will follow that the effect of ordinary agencies upon that character will be more easy to understand than it often seems and is put down in books. we get a notion that a change of government or a change of climate acts equally on the mass of a nation, and so are we puzzled--at least, i have been puzzled--to conceive how it acts. but such changes do not at first act equally on all people in the nation, on many, for a very long time, they do not act at all. but they bring out new qualities, and advertise the effects of new habits. a change of climate, say from a depressing to an invigorating one, so acts. everybody feels it a little, but the most active feel it exceedingly. they labour and prosper, and their prosperity invites imitation. just so with the contrary change, from an animating to a relaxing place,--the naturally lazy look so happy as they do nothing, that the naturally active are corrupted. the effect of any considerable change on a nation is thus an intensifying and accumulating effect. with its maximum power it acts on some prepared and congenial individuals; in them it is seen to produce attractive results, and then the habits creating those results are copied far and wide. and, as i believe, it is in this simple but not quite obvious way, that the process of progress and of degradation may generally be seen to run. no. iv. nation-making. all theories as to the primitive man must be very uncertain. granting the doctrine of evolution to be true, man must be held to have a common ancestor with the rest of the primates. but then we do not know what their common ancestor was like. if ever we are to have a distinct conception of him, it can only be after long years of future researches and the laborious accumulation of materials, scarcely the beginning of which now exists. but science has already done something for us. it cannot yet tell us our first ancestor, but it can tell us much of an ancestor very high up in the line of descent. we cannot get the least idea (even upon the full assumption of the theory of evolution) of the first man; but we can get a very tolerable idea of the paulo-prehistoric man, if i may so say--of man as he existed some short time (as we now reckon shortness), some ten thousand years, before history began. investigators whose acuteness and diligence can hardly be surpassed--sir john lubbock and mr. tylor are the chiefs among them--have collected so much and explained so much that they have left a fairly vivid result. that result is, or seems to me to be, if i may sum it up in my own words, that the modern pre-historic men--those of whom we have collected so many remains, and to whom are due the ancient, strange customs of historical nations (the fossil customs, we might call them, for very often they are stuck by themselves in real civilisation, and have no more part in it than the fossils in the surrounding strata)--pre-historic men in this sense were 'savages without the fixed habits of savages;' that is, that, like savages, they had strong passions and weak reason; that, like savages, they preferred short spasms of greedy pleasure to mild and equable enjoyment; that, like savages, they could not postpone the present to the future; that, like savages, their ingrained sense of morality was, to say the best of it, rudimentary and defective. but that, unlike present savages, they had not complex customs and singular customs, odd and seemingly inexplicable rules guiding all human life. and the reasons for these conclusions as to a race too ancient to leave a history, but not too ancient to have left memorials, are briefly these:--first, that we cannot imagine a strong reason without attainments; and, plainly, pre-historic men had not attainments. they would never have lost them if they had. it is utterly incredible that whole races of men in the most distant parts of the world (capable of counting, for they quickly learn to count) should have lost the art of counting, if they had ever possessed it. it is incredible that whole races could lose the elements of common sense, the elementary knowledge as to things material and things mental--the benjamin franklin philosophy--if they had ever known it. without some data the reasoning faculties of man cannot work. as lord bacon said, the mind of man must 'work upon stuff.' and in the absence of the common knowledge which trains us in the elements of reason as far as we are trained, they had no 'stuff.' even, therefore, if their passions were not absolutely stronger than ours, relatively they were stronger, for their reason was weaker than our reason. again, it is certain that races of men capable of postponing the present to the future (even if such races were conceivable without an educated reason) would have had so huge an advantage in the struggles of nations, that no others would have survived them. a single australian tribe (really capable of such a habit, and really practising it) would have conquered all australia almost as the english have conquered it. suppose a race of long-headed scotchmen, even as ignorant as the australians, and they would have got from torres to bass's straits, no matter how fierce was the resistance of the other australians. the whole territory would have been theirs, and theirs only. we cannot imagine innumerable races to have lost, if they had once had it, the most useful of all habits of mind--the habit which would most ensure their victory in the incessant contests which, ever since they began, men have carried on with one another and with nature, the habit, which in historical times has above any other received for its possession the victory in those contests. thirdly, we may be sure that the morality of pre-historic man was as imperfect and as rudimentary as his reason. the same sort of arguments apply to a self-restraining morality of a high type as apply to a settled postponement of the present to the future upon grounds recommended by argument. both are so involved in difficult intellectual ideas (and a high morality the most of the two) that it is all but impossible to conceive their existence among people who could not count more than five--who had only the grossest and simplest forms of language--who had no kind of writing or reading--who, as it has been roughly said, had 'no pots and no pans'--who could indeed make a fire, but who could hardly do anything else--who could hardly command nature any further. exactly also like a shrewd far-sightedness, a sound morality on elementary transactions is far too useful a gift to the human race ever to have been thoroughly lost when they had once attained it. but innumerable savages have lost all but completely many of the moral rules most conducive to tribal welfare. there are many savages who can hardly be said to care for human life--who have scarcely the family feelings--who are eager to kill all old people (their own parents included) as soon as they get old and become a burden--who have scarcely the sense of truth--who, probably from a constant tradition of terror, wish to conceal everything, and would (as observers say) 'rather lie than not'--whose ideas of marriage are so vague and slight that the idea, 'communal marriage' (in which all the women of the tribe are common to all the men, and them only), has been invented to denote it. now if we consider how cohesive and how fortifying to human societies are the love of truth, and the love of parents, and a stable marriage tie, how sure such feelings would be to make a tribe which possessed them wholly and soon victorious over tribes which were destitute of them, we shall begin to comprehend how unlikely it is that vast masses of tribes throughout the world should have lost all these moral helps to conquest, not to speak of others. if any reasoning is safe as to pre-historic man, the reasoning which imputes to him a deficient sense of morals is safe, for all the arguments suggested by all our late researches converge upon it, and concur in teaching it. nor on this point does the case rest wholly on recent investigations. many years ago mr. jowett said that the classical religions bore relics of the 'ages before morality.' and this is only one of several cases in which that great thinker has proved by a chance expression that he had exhausted impending controversies years before they arrived, and had perceived more or less the conclusion at which the disputants would arrive long before the public issue was joined. there is no other explanation of such religions than this. we have but to open mr. gladstone's 'homer' in order to see with how intense an antipathy a really moral age would regard the gods and goddesses of homer; how inconceivable it is that a really moral age should first have invented and then bowed down before them; how plain it is (when once explained) that they are antiquities, like an english court-suit, or a stone-sacrificial knife, for no one would use such things as implements of ceremony, except those who had inherited them from a past age, when there was nothing better. nor is there anything inconsistent with our present moral theories of whatever kind in so thinking about our ancestors. the intuitive theory of morality, which would be that naturally most opposed to it, has lately taken a new development. it is not now maintained that all men have the same amount of conscience. indeed, only a most shallow disputant who did not understand even the plainest facts of human nature could ever have maintained it; if men differ in anything they differ in the fineness and the delicacy of their moral intuitions, however we may suppose those feelings to have been acquired. we need not go as far as savages to learn that lesson; we need only talk to the english poor or to our own servants, and we shall be taught it very completely. the lower classes in civilised countries, like all classes in uncivilised countries, are clearly wanting in the nicer part of those feelings which, taken together, we call the sense of morality. all this an intuitionist who knows his case will now admit, but he will add that, though the amount of the moral sense may and does differ in different persons, yet that as far as it goes it is alike in all. he likens it to the intuition of number, in which some savages are so defective that they cannot really and easily count more than three. yet as far as three his intuitions are the same as those of civilised people. unquestionably if there are intuitions at all, the primary truths of number are such. there is a felt necessity in them if in anything, and it would be pedantry to say that any proposition of morals was more certain than that five and five make ten. the truths of arithmetic, intuitive or not, certainly cannot be acquired independently of experience nor can those of morals be so either. unquestionably they were aroused in life and by experience, though after that comes the difficult and ancient controversy whether anything peculiar to them and not to be found in the other facts of life is superadded to them independently of experience out of the vigour of the mind itself. no intuitionist, therefore, fears to speak of the conscience of his pre-historic ancestor as imperfect, rudimentary, or hardly to be discerned, for he has to admit much the same so as to square his theory to plain modern facts, and that theory in the modern form may consistently be held along with them. of course if an intuitionist can accept this conclusion as to pre-historic men, so assuredly may mr. spencer, who traces all morality back to our inherited experience of utility, or mr. darwin, who ascribes it to an inherited sympathy, or mr. mill, who with characteristic courage undertakes to build up the whole moral nature of man with no help whatever either from ethical intuition or from physiological instinct. indeed of the everlasting questions, such as the reality of free will, or the nature of conscience, it is, as i have before explained, altogether inconsistent with the design of these papers to speak. they have been discussed ever since the history of discussion begins; human opinion is still divided, and most people still feel many difficulties in every suggested theory, and doubt if they have heard the last word of argument or the whole solution of the problem in any of them. in the interest of sound knowledge it is essential to narrow to the utmost the debatable territory; to see how many ascertained facts there are which are consistent with all theories, how many may, as foreign lawyers would phrase it, be equally held in condominium by them. but though in these great characteristics there is reason to imagine that the pre-historic man--at least the sort of pre-historic man i am treating of, the man some few thousand years before history began, and not at all, at least not necessarily, the primitive man--was identical with a modern savage, in another respect there is equal or greater reason to suppose that he was most unlike a modern savage. a modern savage is anything but the simple being which philosophers of the eighteenth century imagined him to be; on the contrary, his life is twisted into a thousand curious habits; his reason is darkened by a thousand strange prejudices; his feelings are frightened by a thousand cruel superstitions. the whole mind of a modern savage is, so to say, tattooed over with monstrous images; there is not a smooth place anywhere about it. but there is no reason to suppose the minds of pre-historic men to be so cut and marked; on the contrary, the creation of these habits, these superstitions, these prejudices, must have taken ages. in his nature, it may be said, pre-historic man was the same as a modern savage; it is only in his acquisition that he was different. it may be objected that if man was developed out of any kind of animal (and this is the doctrine of evolution which, if it be not proved conclusively, has great probability and great scientific analogy in its favour) he would necessarily at first possess animal instincts; that these would only gradually be lost; that in the meantime they would serve as a protection and an aid, and that pre-historic men, therefore, would have important helps and feelings which existing savages have not. and probably of the first men, the first beings worthy to be so called, this was true: they had, or may have had, certain remnants of instincts which aided them in the struggle of existence, and as reason gradually came these instincts may have waned away. some instincts certainly do wane when the intellect is applied steadily to their subject-matter. the curious 'counting boys,' the arithmetical prodigies, who can work by a strange innate faculty the most wonderful sums, lose that faculty, always partially, sometimes completely, if they are taught to reckon by rule like the rest of mankind. in like manner i have heard it said that a man could soon reason himself out of the instinct of decency if he would only take pains and work hard enough. and perhaps other primitive instincts may have in like manner passed away. but this does not affect my argument. i am only saying that these instincts, if they ever existed, did pass away--that there was a period; probably an immense period as we reckon time in human history, when pre-historic men lived much as savages live now, without any important aids and helps. the proofs of this are to be found in the great works of sir john lubbock and mr. tylor, of which i just now spoke. i can only bring out two of them here. first, it is plain that the first pre-historic men had the flint tools which the lowest savages use, and we can trace a regular improvement in the finish and in the efficiency of their simple instruments corresponding to that which we see at this day in the upward transition from the lowest savages to the highest. now it is not conceivable that a race of beings with valuable instincts supporting their existence and supplying their wants would need these simple tools. they are exactly those needed by very poor people who have no instincts, and those were used by such, for savages are the poorest of the poor. it would be very strange if these same utensils, no more no less, were used by beings whose discerning instincts made them in comparison altogether rich. such a being would know how to manage without such things, or if it wanted any, would know how to make better. and, secondly, on the moral side we know that the pre-historic age was one of much licence, and the proof is that in that age descent was reckoned through the female only, just as it is among the lowest savages. 'maternity,' it has been said, 'is a matter of fact, paternity is a matter of opinion;' and this not very refined expression exactly conveys the connection of the lower human societies. in all slave-owning communities--in rome formerly, and in virginia yesterday--such was the accepted rule of law; the child kept the condition of the mother, whatever that condition was; nobody inquired as to the father; the law, once for all, assumed that he could not be ascertained. of course no remains exist which prove this or anything else about the morality of pre-historic man; and morality can only be described by remains amounting to a history. but one of the axioms of pre-historic investigation binds us to accept this as the morality of the pre-historic races if we receive that axiom. it is plain that the wide-spread absence of a characteristic which greatly aids the possessor in the conflicts between race and race probably indicates that the primary race did not possess that quality. if one-armed people existed almost everywhere in every continent; if people were found in every intermediate stage, some with the mere germ of the second arm, some with the second arm half-grown, some with it nearly complete; we should then argue--'the first race cannot have had two arms, because men have always been fighting, and as two arms are a great advantage in fighting, one-armed and half-armed people would immediately have been killed off the earth; they never could have attained any numbers. a diffused deficiency in a warlike power is the best attainable evidence that the pre-historic men did not possess that power.' if this axiom be received it is palpably applicable to the marriage-bond of primitive races. a cohesive 'family' is the best germ for a campaigning nation. in a roman family the boys, from the time of their birth, were bred to a domestic despotism, which well prepared them for a subjection in after life to a military discipline, a military drill, and a military despotism. they were ready to obey their generals because they were compelled to obey their fathers; they centered the world in manhood because as children they were bred in homes where the tradition of passionate valour was steadied by the habit of implacable order. and nothing of this is possible in loosely-bound family groups (if they can be called families at all) where the father is more or less uncertain, where descent is not traced through him, where, that is, property does not come from him, where such property as he has passes to his sure relations--to his sister's children. an ill-knit nation which does not recognise paternity as a legal relation, would be conquered like a mob by any other nation which had a vestige or a beginning of the patria potestas. if, therefore, all the first men had the strict morality of families, they would no more have permitted the rise of semi-moral nations anywhere in the world than the romans would have permitted them to arise in italy. they would have conquered, killed, and plundered them before they became nations; and yet semi-moral nations exist all over the world. it will be said that this argument proves too much. for it proves that not only the somewhat-before-history men, but the absolutely first men, could not have had close family instincts, and yet if they were like most though not all of the animals nearest to man they had such instincts. there is a great story of some african chief who expressed his disgust at adhering to one wife, by saying it was 'like the monkeys.' the semi-brutal ancestors of man, if they existed, had very likely an instinct of constancy which the african chief, and others like him, had lost. how, then, if it was so beneficial, could they ever lose it? the answer is plain: they could lose it if they had it as an irrational propensity and habit, and not as a moral and rational feeling. when reason came, it would weaken that habit like all other irrational habits. and reason is a force of such infinite vigour--a victory-making agent of such incomparable efficiency--that its continually diminishing valuable instincts will not matter if it grows itself steadily all the while. the strongest competitor wins in both the cases we are imagining; in the first, a race with intelligent reason, but without blind instinct, beats a race with that instinct but without that reason; in the second, a race with reason and high moral feeling beats a race with reason but without high moral feeling. and the two are palpably consistent. there is every reason, therefore, to suppose pre-historic man to be deficient in much of sexual morality, as we regard that morality. as to the detail of 'primitive marriage' or 'no marriage,' for that is pretty much what it comes to, there is of course much room for discussion. both mr. m'clennan and sir john lubbock are too accomplished reasoners and too careful investigators to wish conclusions so complex and refined as theirs to be accepted all in a mass, besides that on some critical points the two differ. but the main issue is not dependent on nice arguments. upon broad grounds we may believe that in pre-historic times men fought both to gain and to keep their wives; that the strongest man took the best wife away from the weaker man; and that if the wife was restive, did not like the change, her new husband beat her; that (as in australia now) a pretty woman was sure to undergo many such changes, and her back to bear the marks of many such chastisements; that in the principal department of human conduct (which is the most tangible and easily traced, and therefore the most obtainable specimen of the rest) the minds of pre-historic men were not so much immoral as unmoral: they did not violate a rule of conscience, but they were somehow not sufficiently developed for them to feel on this point any conscience, or for it to prescribe to them any rule. the same argument applies to religion. there are, indeed, many points of the greatest obscurity, both in the present savage religions and in the scanty vestiges of pre-historic religion. but one point is clear. all savage religions are full of superstitions founded on luck. savages believe that casual omens are a sign of coming events; that some trees are lucky, that some animals are lucky, that some places are lucky, that some indifferent actions--indifferent apparently and indifferent really--are lucky, and so of others in each class, that they are unlucky. nor can a savage well distinguish between a sign of 'luck' or ill-luck, as we should say, and a deity which causes the good or the ill; the indicating precedent and the causing being are to the savage mind much the same; a steadiness of head far beyond savages is required consistently to distinguish them. and it is extremely natural that they should believe so. they are playing a game--the game of life--with no knowledge of its rules. they have not an idea of the laws of nature; if they want to cure a man, they have no conception at all of true scientific remedies. if they try anything they must try it upon bare chance. the most useful modern remedies were often discovered in this bare, empirical way. what could be more improbable--at least, for what could a pre-historic man have less given a good reason--than that some mineral springs should stop rheumatic pains, or mineral springs make wounds heal quickly? and yet the chance knowledge of the marvellous effect of gifted springs is probably as ancient as any sound knowledge as to medicine whatever. no doubt it was mere casual luck at first that tried these springs and found them answer. somebody by accident tried them and by that accident was instantly cured. the chance which happily directed men in this one case, misdirected them in a thousand cases. some expedition had answered when the resolution to undertake it was resolved on under an ancient tree, and accordingly that tree became lucky and sacred. another expedition failed when a magpie crossed its path, and a magpie was said to be unlucky. a serpent crossed the path of another expedition, and it had a marvellous victory, and accordingly the serpent became a sign of great luck (and what a savage cannot distinguish from it--a potent deity which makes luck). ancient medicine is equally unreasonable: as late down as the middle ages it was full of superstitions founded on mere luck. the collection of prescriptions published under the direction of the master of the rolls abounds in such fancies as we should call them. according to one of them, unless i forget, some disease--a fever, i think--is supposed to be cured by placing the patient between two halves of a hare and a pigeon recently killed.[ ] nothing can be plainer than that there is no ground for this kind of treatment, and that the idea of it arose out of a chance hit, which came right and succeeded. there was nothing so absurd or so contrary to common sense as we are apt to imagine about it. the lying between two halves of a hare or a pigeon was a priori, and to the inexperienced mind, quite as likely to cure disease as the drinking certain draughts of nasty mineral water. both, somehow, were tried; both answered--that is. both were at the first time, or at some memorable time, followed by a remarkable recovery; and the only difference is, that the curative power of the mineral is persistent, and happens constantly; whereas, on an average of trials, the proximity of a hare or pigeon is found to have no effect, and cures take place as often in cases where it is not tried as in cases where it is. the nature of minds which are deeply engaged in watching events of which they do not know the reason, is to single out some fabulous accompaniment or some wonderful series of good luck or bad luck, and to dread ever after that accompaniment if it brings evil, and to love it and long for it if it brings good. all savages are in this position, and the fascinating effect of striking accompaniments (in some single case) of singular good fortune and singular calamity, is one great source of savage religions. [ ] readers of scott's life will remember that an admirer of his in humble life proposed to cure him of inflammation of the bowels by making him sleep a whole night on twelve smooth stones, painfully collected by the admirer from twelve brooks, which was, it appeared, a recipe of sovereign traditional power. scott gravely told the proposer that he had mistaken the charm, and that the stones were of no virtue unless wrapped up in the petticoat of a widow who never wished to marry again, and as no such widow seems to have been forthcoming, he escaped the remedy. gamblers to this day are, with respect to the chance part of their game, in much the same plight as savages with respect to the main events of their whole lives. and we well know how superstitious they all are. to this day very sensible whist-players have a certain belief--not, of course, a fixed conviction, but still a certain impression--that there is 'luck under a black deuce,' and will half mutter some not very gentle maledictions if they turn up as a trump the four of clubs, because it brings ill-luck, and is 'the devil's bed-post.' of course grown-up gamblers have too much general knowledge, too much organised common sense to prolong or cherish such ideas; they are ashamed of entertaining them, though, nevertheless, they cannot entirely drive them out of their minds. but child gamblers--a number of little boys set to play loo-are just in the position of savages, for their fancy is still impressible, and they have not as yet been thoroughly subjected to the confuting experience of the real world and child gamblers have idolatries--at least i know that years ago a set of boy loo-players, of whom i was one, had considerable faith in a certain 'pretty fish' which was larger and more nicely made than the other fish we had. we gave the best evidence of our belief in its power to 'bring luck;' we fought for it (if our elders were out of the way); we offered to buy it with many other fish from the envied holder, and i am sure i have often cried bitterly if the chance of the game took it away from me. persons who stand up for the dignity of philosophy, if any such there still are, will say that i ought not to mention this, because it seems trivial; but the more modest spirit of modern thought plainly teaches, if it teaches anything, the cardinal value of occasional little facts. i do not hesitate to say that many learned and elaborate explanations of the totem--the 'clan' deity--the beast or bird which in some supernatural way, attends to the clan and watches over it--do not seem to me to be nearly akin to the reality as it works and lives among--the lower races as the 'pretty fish' of my early boyhood. and very naturally so, for a grave philosopher is separated from primitive thought by the whole length of human culture; but an impressible child is as near to, and its thoughts are as much like, that thought as anything can now be. the worst of these superstitions is that they are easy to make and hard to destroy. a single run of luck has made the fortune of many a charm and many idols. i doubt if even a single run of luck be necessary. i am sure that if an elder boy said that 'the pretty fish was lucky--of course it was,' all the lesser boys would believe it, and in a week it would be an accepted idol. and i suspect the nestor of a savage tribe--the aged repository of guiding experience--would have an equal power of creating superstitions. but if once created they are most difficult to eradicate. if any one said that the amulet was of certain efficacy--that it always acted whenever it was applied--it would of course be very easy to disprove; but no one ever said that the 'pretty fish' always brought luck; it was only said that it did so on the whole, and that if you had it you were more likely to be lucky than if you were without it. but it requires a long table of statistics of the results of games to disprove this thoroughly; and by the time people can make tables they are already above such beliefs, and do not need to have them disproved. nor in many cases where omens or amulets are used would such tables be easy to make, for the data could not be found; and a rash attempt to subdue the superstition by a striking instance may easily end in confirming it. francis newman, in the remarkable narrative of his experience as a missionary in asia, gives a curious example of this. as he was setting out on a distant and somewhat hazardous expedition, his native servants tied round the neck of the mule a small bag supposed to be of preventive and mystic virtue. as the place was crowded and a whole townspeople looking on, mr. newman thought that he would take an opportunity of disproving the superstition. so he made a long speech of explanation in his best arabic, and cut off the bag, to the horror of all about him. but as ill-fortune would have it, the mule had not got thirty yards up the street before she put her foot into a hole and broke her leg; upon which all the natives were confirmed in their former faith in the power of the bag, and said, 'you see now what happens to unbelievers.' now the present point as to these superstitions is their military inexpediency. a nation which was moved by these superstitions as to luck would be at the mercy of a nation, in other respects equal, which, was not subject to them. in historical times, as we know, the panic terror at eclipses has been the ruin of the armies which have felt it; or has made them delay to do something necessary, or rush to do something destructive. the necessity of consulting the auspices, while it was sincerely practised and before it became a trick for disguising foresight, was in classical history very dangerous. and much worse is it with savages, whose life is one of omens, who must always consult their sorcerers, who may be turned this way or that by some chance accident, who, if they were intellectually able to frame a consistent military policy--and some savages in war see farther than in anything else--are yet liable to be put out, distracted, confused, and turned aside in the carrying out of it, because some event, really innocuous but to their minds foreboding, arrests and frightens them. a religion full of omens is a military misfortune, and will bring a nation to destruction if set to fight with a nation at all equal otherwise, who had a religion without omens. clearly then, if all early men unanimously, or even much the greater number of early men, had a religion without omens, no religion, or scarcely a religion, anywhere in the world could have come into existence with omens; the immense majority possessing the superior military advantage, the small minority destitute of it would have been crushed out and destroyed. but, on the contrary, all over the world religions with omens once existed, in most they still exist; all savages have them, and deep in the most ancient civilisations we find the plainest traces of them. unquestionably therefore the pre-historic religion was like that of savages--viz., in this that it largely consisted in the watching of omens and in the worship of lucky beasts and things, which are a sort of embodied and permanent omens. it may indeed be objected--an analogous objection was taken as to the ascertained moral deficiencies of pre-historic mankind--that if this religion of omens was so pernicious and so likely to ruin a race, no race would ever have acquired it. but it is only likely to ruin a race contending with another race otherwise equal. the fancied discovery of these omens--not an extravagant thing in an early age, as i have tried to show, not a whit then to be distinguished as improbable from the discovery of healing herbs or springs which pre-historic men also did discover--the discovery of omens was an act of reason as far as it went. and if in reason the omen-finding race were superior to the races in conflict with them, the omen-finding race would win, and we may conjecture that omen-finding races were thus superior since they won and prevailed in every latitude and in every zone. in all particulars therefore we would keep to our formula, and say that pre-historic man was substantially a savage like present savages, in morals, intellectual attainments, and in religion; but that he differed in this from our present savages, that he had not had time to ingrain his nature so deeply with bad habits, and to impress bad beliefs so unalterably on his mind as they have. they have had ages to fix the stain on them selves, but primitive man was younger and had no such time. i have elaborated the evidence for this conclusion at what may seem needless and tedious length, but i have done so on account of its importance. if we accept it, and if we are sure of it, it will help us to many most important conclusions. some of these i have dwelt upon in previous papers, but i will set them down again. first, it will in part explain to us what the world was about, so to speak, before history. it was making, so to say, the intellectual consistence--the connected and coherent habits, the preference of equable to violent enjoyment, the abiding capacity to prefer, if required, the future to the present, the mental pre-requisites without which civilisation could not begin to exist, and without which it would soon cease to exist even had it begun. the primitive man, like the present savage, had not these pre-requisites, but, unlike the present savage, he was capable of acquiring them and of being trained in them, for his nature was still soft and still impressible, and possibly, strange as it may seem to say, his outward circumstances were more favourable to an attainment of civilisation than those of our present savages. at any rate, the pre-historic times were spent in making men capable of writing a history, and having something to put in it when it is written, and we can see how it was done. two preliminary processes indeed there are which seem inscrutable. there was some strange preliminary process by which the main races of men were formed; they began to exist very early, and except by intermixture no new ones have been formed since. it was a process singularly active in early ages, and singularly quiescent in later ages. such differences as exist between the aryan, the turanian, the negro, the red man, and the australian, are differences greater--altogether than any causes now active are capable of creating in present men, at least in any way explicable by us. and there is, therefore, a strong presumption that (as great authorities now hold) these differences were created before the nature of men, especially before the mind and the adaptive nature of men had taken their existing constitution. and a second condition precedent of civilisation seems, at least to me, to have been equally inherited, if the doctrine of evolution be true, from some previous state or condition. i at least find it difficult to conceive of men, at all like the present men, unless existing in something like families, that is, in groups avowedly connected, at least on the mother's side, and probably always with a vestige of connection, more or less, on the father's side, and unless these groups were like many animals, gregarious, tinder a leader more or less fixed. it is almost beyond imagination how man, as we know man, could by any sort of process have gained this step in civilisation. and it is a great advantage, to say the least of it, in the evolution theory that it enables us to remit this difficulty to a pre-existing period in nature, where other instincts and powers than our present ones may perhaps have come into play, and where our imagination can hardly travel. at any rate, for the present i may assume these two steps in human progress made, and these two conditions realized. the rest of the way, if we grant these two conditions, is plainer. the first thing is the erection of what--we may call a custom-making power, that is, of an authority which can enforce a fixed rule of life, which, by means of that fixed rule, can in some degree create a calculable future, which can make it rational to postpone present violent but momentary pleasure for future continual pleasure, because it ensures, what else is not sure, that if the sacrifice of what is in hand be made, enjoyment of the contingent expected recompense will be received. of course i am not saying that we shall find in early society any authority of which these shall be the motives. we must have travelled ages (unless all our evidence be wrong) from the first men before there was a comprehension of such motives. i only mean that the first thing in early society was an authority of whose action this shall be the result, little as it knew what it was doing, little as it would have cared if it had known. the conscious end of early societies was not at all, or scarcely at all, the protection of life and property, as it was assumed to be by the eighteenth-century theory of government. even in early historical ages--in the youth of the human race, not its childhood--such is not the nature of early states. sir henry maine has taught us that the earliest subject of jurisprudence is not the separate property of the individual, but the common property of the family group; what we should call private property hardly then existed; or if it did, was so small as to be of no importance: it was like the things little children are now allowed to call their own, which they feel it very hard to have taken from them, but which they have no real right to hold and keep. such is our earliest property-law, and our earliest life--law is that the lives of all members of the family group were at the mercy of the head of the group. as far as the individual goes, neither his goods nor his existence were protected at all. and this may teach us that something else was lacked in early societies besides what in our societies we now think of. i do not think i put this too high when i say that a most important if not the most important object of early legislation was the enforcement of lucky rites. i do not like to say religious rites, because that would involve me in a great controversy as to the power, or even the existence, of early religions. but there is no savage tribe without a notion of luck; and perhaps there is hardly any which has not a conception of luck for the tribe as a tribe, of which each member has not some such a belief that his own action or the action of any other member of it--that he or the others doing anything which was unlucky or would bring a 'curse'--might cause evil not only to himself, but to all the tribe as well. i have said so much about 'luck' and about its naturalness before, that i ought to say nothing again. but i must add that the contagiousness of the idea of 'luck' is remarkable. it does not at all, like the notion of desert, cleave to the doer. there are people to this day who would not permit in their house people to sit down thirteen to dinner. they do not expect any evil to themselves particularly for permitting it or sharing in it, but they cannot get out of their heads the idea that some one or more of the number will come to harm if the thing is done. this is what mr. tylor calls survival in culture. the faint belief in the corporate liability of these thirteen is the feeble relic and last dying representative of that great principle of corporate liability to good and ill fortune which has filled such an immense place in the world. the traces of it are endless. you can hardly take up a book of travels in rude regions without finding 'i wanted to do so and so. but i was not permitted, for the natives feared it might bring ill luck on the "party," or perhaps the tribe.' mr. galton, for instance, could hardly feed his people. the damaras, he says, have numberless superstitions about meat which are very troublesome. in the first place, each tribe, or rather family, is prohibited from eating cattle of certain colours, savages 'who come from the sun' eschewing sheep spotted in a particular way, which those 'who come from the rain' have no objection to. 'as,' he says, 'there are five or six eandas or descents, and i had men from most of them with me, i could hardly kill a sheep that everybody would eat;' and he could not keep his meat, for it had to be given away because it was commanded by one superstition, nor buy milk, the staple food of those parts, because it was prohibited by another. and so on without end. doing anything unlucky is in their idea what putting on something that attracts the electric fluid is in fact, you cannot be sure that harm will not be done, not only to the person in fault, but to those about him too. as in the scriptural phrase, doing what is of evil omen is 'like one that letteth out water.' he cannot tell what are the consequences of his act, who will share them, or how they can be prevented. in the earliest historical nations i need not say that the corporate liabilities of states is to a modern student their most curious feature. the belief is indeed raised far above the notion of mere 'luck,' because there is a distinct belief in gods or a god whom the act offends, but the indiscriminate character of the punishment still survives; not only the mutilator of the hermae, but all the athenians--not only the violator of the rites of the bona dea, but all the romans--are liable to the curse engendered; and so all through ancient history. the strength of the corporate anxiety so created is known to every one. not only was it greately than any anxiety about personal property, but it was immeasurably greater. naturally, even reasonably we may say, it was greater. the dread of the powers of nature, or of the beings who rule those powers, is properly, upon grounds of reason, as much greater than any other dread as the might of the powers of nature is superior to that of any other powers. if a tribe or a nation have, by a contagious fancy, come to believe that the doing of any one thing by any number will be 'unlucky,' that is, will bring an intense and vast liability on them all, then that tribe and that nation will prevent the doing of that thing more than anything else. they will deal with the most cherished chief who even by chance should do it, as in a similar case the sailors dealt with jonah. i do not of course mean that this strange condition of mind as it seems to us was the sole source of early customs. on the contrary, man might be described as a custom-making animal with more justice than by many of the short descriptions. in whatever way a man has done anything once, he has a tendency to do it again: if he has done it several times he has a great tendency so to do it, and what is more, he has a great tendency to make others do it also. he transmits his formed customs to his children by example and by teaching. this is true now of human nature, and will always be true, no doubt. but what is peculiar in early societies is that over most of these customs there grows sooner or later a semi-supernatural sanction. the whole community is possessed with the idea that if the primal usages of the tribe be broken, harm unspeakable will happen in ways you cannot think of, and from sources you cannot imagine. as people now-a-days believe that 'murder will out,' and that great crime will bring even an earthly punishment, so in early times people believed that for any breach of sacred custom certain retribution would happen. to this day many semi-civilised races have great difficulty in regarding any arrangement as binding and conclusive unless they can also manage to look at it as an inherited usage. sir h. maine, in his last work, gives a most curious case. the english government in india has in many cases made new and great works of irrigation, of which no ancient indian government ever thought; and it has generally left it to the native village community to say what share each man of the village should have in the water; and the village authorities have accordingly laid down a series of most minute rules about it. but the peculiarity is that in no case do these rules 'purport to emanate from the personal authority of their author or authors, which rests on grounds of reason not on grounds of innocence and sanctity; nor do they assume to be dictated by a sense of equity; there is always, i am assured, a sort of fiction under which some customs as to the distribution of water are supposed to have emanated from a remote antiquity, although, in fact, no such artificial supply had ever been so much as thought of.' so difficult does this ancient race--like, probably, in this respect so much of the ancient world-find it to imagine a rule which is obligatory, but not traditional. the ready formation of custom-making groups in early society must have been greatly helped by the easy divisions of that society. much of the world--all europe, for example--was then covered by the primeval forest; men had only conquered, and as yet could only conquer, a few plots and corners from it. these narrow spaces were soon exhausted, and if numbers grew some of the new people must move. accordingly, migrations were constant, and were necessary. and these migrations were not like those of modern times. there was no such feeling as binds even americans who hate, or speak as if they hated, the present political england--nevertheless to 'the old home.' there was then no organised means of communication--no practical communication, we may say, between parted members of the same group; those who once went out from the parent society went out for ever; they left no abiding remembrance, and they kept no abiding regard. even the language of the parent tribe and of the descended tribe would differ in a generation or two. there being no written literature and no spoken intercourse, the speech of both would vary (the speech of such communities is always varying), and would vary in different directions. one set of causes, events, and associations would act on one, and another set on another; sectional differences would soon arise, and, for speaking purposes, what philologists call a dialectical difference often amounts to real and total difference: no connected interchange of thought is possible any longer. separate groups soon 'set up house;' the early societies begin a new set of customs, acquire and keep a distinct and special 'luck.' if it were not for this facility of new formations, one good or bad custom would long since have 'corrupted' the world; but even this would not have been enough but for those continual wars, of which i have spoken at such length in the essay on 'the use of conflict,' that i need say nothing now. these are by their incessant fractures of old images, and by their constant infusion of new elements, the real regenerators of society. and whatever be the truth or falsehood of the general dislike to mixed and half-bred races, no such suspicion was probably applicable to the early mixtures of primitive society. supposing, as is likely, each great aboriginal race to have had its own quarter of the world (a quarter, as it would seem, corresponding to the special quarters in which plants and animals are divided), then the immense majority of the mixtures would be between men of different tribes but of the same stock, and this no one would object to, but every one would praise. in general, too, the conquerors would be better than the conquered (most merits in early society are more or less military merits), but they would not be very much better, for the lowest steps in the ladder of civilisation are very steep, and the effort to mount them is slow and tedious. and this is probably the better if they are to produce a good and quick effect in civilising those they have conquered. the experience of the english in india shows--if it shows anything--that a highly civilised race may fail in producing a rapidly excellent effect on a less civilised race, because it is too good and too different. the two are not en rapport together; the merits of the one are not the merits prized by the other; the manner-language of the one is not the manner-language of the other. the higher being is not and cannot be a model for the lower; he could not mould himself on it if he would, and would not if he could. consequently, the two races have long lived together, 'near and yet far off,' daily seeing one another and daily interchanging superficial thoughts, but in the depths of their mind separated by a whole era of civilisation, and so affecting one another only a little in comparison with what might have been hoped. but in early societies there were no such great differences, and the rather superior conqueror must have easily improved the rather inferior conquered. it is in the interior of these customary groups that national characters are formed. as i wrote a whole essay on the manner of this before, i cannot speak of it now. by proscribing nonconformist members for generations, and cherishing and rewarding conformist members, nonconformists become fewer and fewer, and conformists more and more. most men mostly imitate what they see, and catch the tone of what they hear, and so a settled type--a persistent character--is formed. nor is the process wholly mental. i cannot agree, though the greatest authorities say it, that no 'unconscious selection' has been at work at the breed of man. if neither that nor conscious selection has been at work, how did there come to be these breeds, and such there are in the greatest numbers, though we call them nations? in societies tyrannically customary, uncongenial minds become first cowed, then melancholy, then out of health, and at last die. a shelley in new england could hardly have lived, and a race of shelleys would have been impossible. mr. galton wishes that breeds of men should be created by matching men with marked characteristics with women of like characteristics. but surely this is what nature has been doing time out of mind, and most in the rudest nations and hardest times. nature disheartened in each generation the ill-fitted members of each customary group, so deprived them of their full vigour, or, if they were weakly, killed them. the spartan character was formed because none but people with, a spartan make of mind could endure a spartan existence. the early roman character was so formed too. perhaps all very marked national characters can be traced back to a time of rigid and pervading discipline. in modern times, when society is more tolerant, new national characters are neither so strong, so featurely, nor so uniform. in this manner society was occupied in pre-historic times,--it is consistent with and explicable by our general principle as to savages, that society should for ages have been so occupied, strange as that conclusion is, and incredible as it would be, if we had not been taught by experience to believe strange things. secondly, this principle and this conception of pre-historic times explain to us the meaning and the origin of the oldest and strangest of social anomalies--an anomaly which is among the first things history tells us--the existence of caste nations. nothing is at first sight stranger than the aspect of those communities where several nations seem to be bound up together--where each is governed by its own rule of law, where no one pays any deference to the rule of law of any of the others. but if our principles be true, these are just the nations most likely to last, which would have a special advantage in early times, and would probably not only maintain themselves, but conquer and kill out others also. the characteristic necessity of early society as we have seen, is strict usage and binding coercive custom. but the obvious result and inevitable evil of that is monotony in society; no one can be much different from his fellows, or can cultivate his difference. such societies are necessarily weak from the want of variety in their elements. but a caste nation is various and composite; and has in a mode suited to early societies the constant co-operation of contrasted persons, which in a later age is one of the greatest triumphs of civilisation. in a primitive age the division between the warrior caste and the priestly caste is especially advantageous. little popular and little deserving to be popular now-a-days as are priestly hierarchies, most probably the beginnings of science were made in such, and were for ages transmitted in such. an intellectual class was in that age only possible when it was protected by a notion that whoever hurt them would certainly be punished by heaven. in this class apart discoveries were slowly made and some beginning of mental discipline was slowly matured. but such a community is necessarily unwarlike, and the superstition which protects priests from home murder will not aid them in conflict with the foreigner. few nations mind killing their enemies' priests, and many priestly civilisations have perished without record before they well began. but such a civilisation will not perish if a warrior caste is tacked on to it and is bound to defend it. on the contrary, such a civilisation will be singularly likely to live. the head of the sage will help the arm of the soldier. that a nation divided into castes must be a most difficult thing to found is plain. probably it could only begin in a country several times conquered, and where the boundaries of each caste rudely coincided with the boundaries of certain sets of victors and vanquished. but, as we now see, when founded it is a likely nation to last. a party-coloured community of many tribes and many usages is more likely to get on, and help itself, than a nation of a single lineage and one monotonous rule. i say 'at first,' because i apprehend that in this case, as in so many others in the puzzling history of progress, the very institutions which most aid at step number one are precisely those which most impede at step number two. the whole of a caste nation is more various than the whole of a non-caste nation, but each caste itself is more monotonous than anything is, or can be, in a non-caste nation. gradually a habit of action and type of mind forces itself on each caste, and it is little likely to be rid of it, for all who enter it are taught in one way and trained to the same employment. several non-caste nations have still continued to progress. but all caste nations have stopped early, though some have lasted long. each colour in the singular composite of these tesselated societies has an indelible and invariable shade. thirdly, we see why so few nations have made rapid advance, and how many have become stationary. it is in the process of becoming a nation, and in order to become such, that they subjected themselves to the influence which has made them stationary. they could not become a real nation without binding themselves by a fixed law and usage, and it is the fixity of that law and usage which has kept them as they were ever since. i wrote a whole essay on this before, so i need say nothing now; and i only name it because it is one of the most important consequences of this view of society, if not indeed the most important. again, we can thus explain one of the most curious facts of the present world. 'manner,' says a shrewd observer, who has seen much of existing life, 'manner gets regularly worse as you go from the east to the west; it is best in asia, not so good in europe, and altogether bad in the western states of america.' and the reason is this--an imposing manner is a dignified usage, which tends to preserve itself and also all other existing usages along with itself. it tends to induce the obedience of mankind. one of the cleverest novelists of the present day has a curious dissertation to settle why on the hunting-field, and in all collections of men, some men 'snub and some men get snubbed;' and why society recognises in each case the ascendancy or the subordination as if it was right. 'it is not at all,' mr. trollope fully explains, 'rare ability which gains the supremacy; very often the ill-treated man is quite as clever as the man who ill-treats him. nor does it absolutely depend on wealth; for, though great wealth is almost always a protection from social ignominy, and will always ensure a passive respect, it will not in a miscellaneous group of men of itself gain an active power to snub others. schoolboys, in the same way,' the novelist adds, 'let some boys have dominion, and make other boys slaves.' and he decides, no doubt truly, that in each case 'something in the manner or gait' of the supreme boy or man has much to do with it. on this account in early society a dignified manner is of essential importance; it is, then, not only an auxiliary mode of acquiring respect, but a principal mode. the competing institutions which have now much superseded it, had not then begun. ancient institutions or venerated laws did not then exist; and the habitual ascendancy of grave manner was a primary force in winning and calming mankind. to this day it is rare to find a savage chief without it; and almost always they greatly excel in it. only last year a red indian chief came from the prairies to see president grant, and everybody declared that he had the best manners in washington. the secretaries and heads of departments seemed vulgar to him; though, of course, intrinsically they were infinitely above him, for he was only 'a plundering rascal.' but an impressive manner had been a tradition in the societies in which he had lived, because it was of great value in those societies; and it is not a tradition in america, for nowhere is it less thought of, or of less use, than in a rough english colony; the essentials of civilisation there depend on far different influences. and manner, being so useful and so important, usages and customs grow up to develop it. asiatic society is full of such things, if it should not rather be said to be composed of them. 'from the spirit and decision of a public envoy upon ceremonies and forms,' says sir john malcolm, 'the persians very generally form their opinion of the character of the country he represents. this fact i had read in books, and all i saw convinced me of its truth. fortunately the elchee had resided at some of the principal courts of india, whose usages are very similar. he was, therefore, deeply versed in that important science denominated "kaida-e-nishest-oo-berkhast" (or the art of sitting and rising), in which is included a knowledge of the forms and manners of good society, and particularly those of asiatic kings and their courts. 'he was quite aware, on his first arrival in persia, of the consequence of every step he took on such delicate points; he was, therefore, anxious to fight all his battles regarding ceremonies before he came near the footstool of royalty. we were consequently plagued, from the moment we landed at ambusheher, till we reached shiraz, with daily almost hourly drilling, that we might be perfect in our demeanour at all places, and under all circumstances. we were carefully instructed where to ride in a procession, where to stand or sit within-doors, when to rise from our seats, how far to advance to meet a visitor, and to what part of the tent or house we were to follow him when he departed, if he was of sufficient rank to make us stir a step. 'the regulations of our risings and standings, and movings and reseatings, were, however, of comparatively less importance than the time and manner of smoking our kellians and taking our coffee. it is quite astonishing how much depends upon coffee and tobacco in persia. men are gratified or offended, according to the mode in which these favourite refreshments are offered. you welcome a visitor, or send him off, by the way in which you call for a pipe or a cup of coffee. then you mark, in the most minute manner, every shade of attention and consideration, by the mode in which he is treated. if he be above you, you present these refreshments yourself, and do not partake till commanded; if equal, you exchange pipes, and present him with coffee, taking the next cup yourself; if a little below you, and you wish to pay him attention, you leave him to smoke his own pipe, but the servant gives him, according to your condescending nod, the first cup of coffee; if much inferior, you keep your distance and maintain your rank, by taking the first cup of coffee yourself, and then directing the servant, by a wave of the hand, to help the guest. 'when a visitor arrives, the coffee and pipe are called for to welcome him; a second call for these articles announces that he may depart; but this part of the ceremony varies according to the relative rank or intimacy of the parties. 'these matters may appear light to those with whom observances of this character are habits, not rules; but in this country they are of primary consideration, a man's importance with himself and with others depending on them.' in ancient customary societies the influence of manner, which is a primary influence, has been settled into rules, so that it may aid established usages and not thwart them--that it may, above all, augment the habit of going by custom, and not break and weaken it. every aid, as we have seen, was wanted to impose the yoke of custom upon such societies; and impressing the power of manner to serve them was one of the greatest aids. and lastly, we now understand why order and civilisation are so unstable even in progressive communities. we see frequently in states what physiologists call 'atavism'--the return, in part, to the unstable nature of their barbarous ancestors. such scenes of cruelty and horror as happened in the great french revolution, and as happen, more or less, in every great riot, have always been said to bring out a secret and suppressed side of human nature; and we now see that they were the outbreak of inherited passions long repressed by fixed custom, but starting into life as soon as that repression was catastrophically removed and when sudden choice was given. the irritability of mankind, too, is only part of their imperfect, transitory civilisation and of their original savage nature. they could not look steadily to a given end for an hour in their pre-historic state; and even now, when excited or when suddenly and wholly thrown out of their old grooves, they can scarcely do so. even some very high races, as the french and the irish, seem in troubled times hardly to be stable at all, but to be carried everywhere as the passions of the moment and the ideas generated at the hour may determine. but, thoroughly to deal with such phenomena as these, we must examine the mode in which national characters can be emancipated from the rule of custom, and can be prepared for the use of choice. no. v. the age of discussion. the greatest living contrast is between the old eastern and customary civilisations and the new western and changeable civilisations. a year or two ago an inquiry was made of our most intelligent officers in the east, not as to whether the english government were really doing good in the east, but as to whether the natives of india themselves thought we were doing good; to which, in a majority of cases, the officers who wore the best authority, answered thus: 'no doubt you are giving the indians many great benefits: you give them continued peace, free trade, the right to live as they like, subject to the laws; in these points and others they are far better off than, they ever were; but still they cannot make you out. what puzzles them is your constant disposition to change, or as you call it, improvement. their own life in every detail being regulated by ancient usage, they cannot comprehend a policy which is always bringing something new; they do not a bit believe that the desire to make them comfortable and happy is the root of it; they believe, on the contrary, that you are aiming at something which they do not understand--that you mean to "take away their religion;" in a word, that the end and object of all these continual changes is to make indians not what they are and what they like to be, but something new and different from what they are, and what they would not like to be.' in the east, in a word, we are attempting to put new wine into old bottles-to pour what we can of a civilisation whose spirit is progress into the form of a civilisation whose spirit is fixity, and whether we shall succeed or not is perhaps the most interesting question in an age abounding almost beyond example in questions of political interest. historical inquiries show that the feeling of the hindoos is the old feeling, and that the feeling of the englishman is a modern feeling. 'old law rests,' as sir henry maine puts it, 'not on contract but on status.' the life of ancient civilisation, so far as legal records go, runs back to a time when every important particular of life was settled by a usage which was social, political, and religious, as we should now say, all in one--which those who obeyed it could not have been able to analyse, for those distinctions had no place in their mind and language, but which they felt to be a usage of imperishable import, and above all things to be kept unchanged. in former papers i have shown, or at least tried to show, why these customary civilisations were the only ones which suited an early society; why, so to say, they alone could have been first; in what manner they had in their very structure a decisive advantage over all competitors. but now comes the farther question: if fixity is an invariable ingredient in early civilisations, how then did any civilisation become unfixed? no doubt most civilisations stuck where they first were; no doubt we see now why stagnation is the rule of the world, and why progress is the very rare exception; but we do not learn what it is which has caused progress in these few cases, or the absence of what it is which has denied it in all others. to this question history gives a very clear and very remarkable answer. it is that the change from the age of status to the age of choice was first made in states where the government was to a great and a growing extent a government by discussion, and where the subjects of that discussion were in some degree abstract, or, as we should say, matters of principle. it was in the small republics of greece and italy that the chain of custom was first broken. 'liberty said, let there be light, and, like a sunrise on the sea, athens arose,' says shelley, and his historical philosophy is in this case far more correct than is usual with him. a free state--a state with liberty--means a state, call it republic or call it monarchy, in which the sovereign power is divided between many persons, and in which there is a discussion among those persons. of these the greek republics were the first in history, if not in time, and athens was the greatest of those republics. after the event it is easy to see why the teaching of history should be this and nothing else. it is easy to see why the common discussion of common actions or common interests should become the root of change and progress. in early society, originality in life was forbidden and repressed by the fixed rule of life. it may not have been quite so much so in ancient greece as in some other parts of the world. but it was very much so even there. as a recent writer has well said, 'law then presented itself to men's minds as something venerable and unchangeable, as old as the city; it had been delivered by the founder himself, when he laid the walls of the city, and kindled its sacred fire.' an ordinary man who wished to strike out a new path, to begin a new and important practice by himself, would have been peremptorily required to abandon his novelties on pain of death; he was deviating, he would be told, from the ordinances imposed by the gods on his nation, and he must not do so to please himself. on the contrary, others were deeply interested in his actions. if he disobeyed, the gods might inflict grievous harm on all the people as well as him. each partner in the most ancient kind of partnerships was supposed to have the power of attracting the wrath of the divinities on the entire firm, upon the other partners quite as much as upon himself. the quaking bystanders in a superstitious age would soon have slain an isolated bold man in the beginning of his innovations, what macaulay so relied on as the incessant source of progress--the desire of man to better his condition--was not then permitted to work; man was required to live as his ancestors had lived. still further away from those times were the 'free thought' and the 'advancing sciences' of which we now hear so much. the first and most natural subject upon which human thought concerns itself is religion; the first wish of the half-emancipated thinker is to use his reason on the great problems of human destiny--to find out whence he came and whither he goes, to form for himself the most reasonable idea of god which he can form. but, as mr. grote happily said--'this is usually what ancient times would not let a man do. his _gens_ or his _phratria_ required him to believe as they believed.' toleration is of all ideas the most modern, because the notion that the bad religion of a cannot impair, here or hereafter, the welfare of b, is, strange to say, a modern idea. and the help of 'science,' at that stage of thought, is still more nugatory. physical science, as we conceive it--that is, the systematic investigation of external nature in detail--did not then exist. a few isolated observations on surface things--a half-correct calendar, secrets mainly of priestly invention, and in priestly custody--were all that was then imagined; the idea of using a settled study of nature as a basis for the discovery of new instruments and new things, did not then exist. it is indeed a modern idea, and is peculiar to a few european countries even yet. in the most intellectual city of the ancient world, in its most intellectual age, socrates, its most intellectual inhabitant, discouraged the study of physics because they engendered uncertainty, and did not augment human happiness. the kind of knowledge which is most connected with human progress now was that least connected with it then. but a government by discussion, if it can be borne, at once breaks down the yoke of fixed custom. the idea of the two is inconsistent. as far as it goes, the mere putting up of a subject to discussion, with the object of being guided by that discussion, is a clear admission that that subject is in no degree settled by established rule, and that men are free to choose in it. it is an admission too that there is no sacred authority--no one transcendent and divinely appointed man whom in that matter the community is bound to obey. and if a single subject or group of subjects be once admitted to discussion, ere long the habit of discussion comes to be established, the sacred charm of use and wont to be dissolved. 'democracy,' it has been said in modern times, 'is like the grave; it takes, but it does not give.' the same is true of 'discussion.' once effectually submit a subject to that ordeal, and you can never withdraw it again; you can never again clothe it with mystery, or fence it by consecration; it remains for ever open to free choice, and exposed to profane deliberation. the only subjects which can be first submitted, or which till a very late age of civilisation can be submitted to discussion in the community, are the questions involving the visible and pressing interests of the community; they are political questions of high and urgent import. if a nation has in any considerable degree gained the habit, and exhibited the capacity, to discuss these questions with freedom, and to decide them with discretion, to argue much on politics and not to argue ruinously, an enormous advance in other kinds of civilisation may confidently be predicted for it. and the reason is a plain deduction from the principles which we have found to guide early civilisation. the first pre-historic men were passionate savages, with the greatest difficulty coerced into order and compressed into a state. for ages were spent in beginning that order and founding that state; the only sufficient and effectual agent in so doing was consecrated custom; but then that custom gathered over everything, arrested all onward progress, and stayed the originality of mankind. if, therefore, a nation is able to gain the benefit of custom without the evil--if after ages of waiting it can have order and choice together--at once the fatal clog is removed, and the ordinary springs of progress, as in a modern community we conceive them, begin their elastic action. discussion, too, has incentives to progress peculiar to itself. it gives a premium to intelligence. to set out the arguments required to determine political action with such force and effect that they really should determine it, is a high and great exertion of intellect. of course, all such arguments are produced under conditions; the argument abstractedly best is not necessarily the winning argument. political discussion must move those who have to act; it must be framed in the ideas, and be consonant with the precedent, of its time, just as it must speak its language. but within these marked conditions good discussion is better than bad; no people can bear a government of discussion for a day, which does not, within the boundaries of its prejudices and its ideas, prefer good reasoning to bad reasoning, sound argument to unsound. a prize for argumentative mind is given in free states, to which no other states have anything to compare. tolerance too is learned in discussion, and, as history shows, is only so learned. in all customary societies bigotry is the ruling principle. in rude places to this day any one who says anything new is looked on with suspicion, and is persecuted by opinion if not injured by penalty. one of the greatest pains to human nature is the pain of a new idea. it is, as common people say, so 'upsetting;' it makes you think that, after all, your favourite notions may be wrong, your firmest beliefs ill-founded; it is certain that till now there was no place allotted in your mind to the new and startling inhabitant, and now that it has conquered an entrance you do not at once see which of your old ideas it will or will not turn out, with which of them it can be reconciled, and with which it is at essential enmity. naturally, therefore, common men hate a new idea, and are disposed more or less to ill-treat the original man who brings it. even nations with long habits of discussion are intolerant enough. in england, where there is on the whole probably a freer discussion of a greater number of subjects than ever was before in the world, we know how much power bigotry retains. but discussion, to be successful, requires tolerance. it fails wherever, as in a french political assembly, any one who hears anything which he dislikes tries to howl it down. if we know that a nation is capable of enduring continuous discussion, we know that it is capable of practising with equanimity continuous tolerance. the power of a government by discussion as an instrument of elevation plainly depends--other things being equal--on the greatness or littleness of the things to be discussed. there are periods when great ideas are 'in the air,' and when, from some cause or other, even common persons seem to partake of an unusual elevation. the age of elizabeth in england was conspicuously such a time. the new idea of the reformation in religion, and the enlargement of the moenia mundi by the discovery of new and singular lands, taken together, gave an impulse to thought which few, if any, ages can equal. the discussion, though not wholly free, was yet far freer than in the average of ages and countries. accordingly, every pursuit seemed to start forward. poetry, science, and architecture, different as they are, and removed as they all are at first sight from such an influence as discussion, were suddenly started onward. macaulay would have said you might rightly read the power of discussion 'in the poetry of shakespeare, in the prose of bacon, in the oriels of longleat, and the stately pinnacles of burleigh.' this is, in truth, but another case of the principle of which i have had occasion to say so much as to the character of ages and countries. if any particular power is much prized in an age, those possessed of that power will be imitated; those deficient in that power will be despised. in consequence an unusual quantity of that power will be developed, and be conspicuous. within certain limits vigorous and elevated thought was respected in elizabeth's time, and, therefore, vigorous and elevated thinkers were many; and the effect went far beyond the cause. it penetrated into physical science, for which very few men cared; and it began a reform in philosophy to which almost all were then opposed. in a word, the temper of the age encouraged originality, and in consequence original men started into prominence, went hither and thither where they liked, arrived at goals which the age never expected, and so made it ever memorable. in this manner all the great movements of thought in ancient and modern times have been nearly connected in time with government by discussion. athens, rome, the italian republics of the middle ages, the communes and states-general of feudal europe, have all had a special and peculiar quickening influence, which they owed to their freedom, and which states without that freedom have never communicated. and it has been at the time of great epochs of thought--at the peloponnesian war, at the fall of the roman republic, at the reformation, at the french revolution--that such liberty of speaking and thinking have produced their full effect. it is on this account that the discussions of savage tribes have produced so little effect in emancipating those tribes from their despotic customs. the oratory of the north american indian--the first savage whose peculiarities fixed themselves in the public imagination--has become celebrated, and yet the north american indians were scarcely, if at all, better orators than many other savages. almost all of the savages who have melted away before the englishman were better speakers than he is. but the oratory of the savages has led to nothing, and was likely to lead to nothing. it is a discussion not of principles, but of undertakings; its topics are whether expedition a will answer, and should be undertaken; whether expedition b will not answer, and should not be undertaken; whether village a is the best village to plunder, or whether village b is a better. such discussions augment the vigour of language, encourage a debating facility, and develop those gifts of demeanour and of gesture which excite the confidence of the hearers. but they do not excite the speculative intellect, do not lead men to argue speculative doctrines, or to question ancient principles. they, in some material respects, improve the sheep within the fold; but they do not help them or incline them to leap out of the fold. the next question, therefore, is, why did discussions in some cases relate to prolific ideas, and why did discussions in other cases relate only to isolated transactions? the reply which history suggests is very clear and very remarkable. some races of men at our earliest knowledge of them have already acquired the basis of a free constitution; they have already the rudiments of a complex polity--a monarch, a senate, and a general meeting of citizens. the greeks were one of those races, and it happened, as was natural, that there was in process of time a struggle, the earliest that we know of, between the aristocratical party, originally represented by the senate, and the popular party, represented by the 'general meeting.' this is plainly a question of principle, and its being so has led to its history being written more than two thousand years afterwards in a very remarkable manner. some seventy years ago an english country gentleman named mitford, who, like so many of his age, had been terrified into aristocratic opinions by the first french revolution, suddenly found that the history of the peloponnesian war was the reflex of his own time. he took up his thucydides, and there he saw, as in a mirror, the progress and the struggles of his age. it required some freshness of mind to see this; at least, it had been hidden for many centuries. all the modern histories of greece before mitford had but the vaguest idea of it; and not being a man of supreme originality, he would doubtless have had very little idea of it either, except that the analogy of what he saw helped him by a telling object-lesson to the understanding of what he read. just as in every country of europe in there were two factions, one of the old-world aristocracy, and the other of the incoming democracy, just so there was in every city of ancient greece, in the year b.c., one party of the many and another of the few. this mr. mitford perceived, and being a strong aristocrat, he wrote a 'history,' which is little except a party pamphlet, and which, it must be said, is even now readable on that very account. the vigour of passion with which it was written puts life into the words, and retains the attention of the reader. and that is not all. mr. grote, the great scholar whom we have had lately to mourn, also recognising the identity between the struggles of athens and sparta and the struggles of our modern world, and taking violently the contrary side to that of mitford, being as great a democrat as mitford was an aristocrat, wrote a reply, far above mitford's history in power and learning, but being in its main characteristic almost identical, being above all things a book of vigorous political passion, written for persons who care for politics, and not, as almost all histories of antiquity are and must be, the book of a man who cares for scholarship more than for anything else, written mainly if not exclusively, for scholars. and the effect of fundamental political discussion was the same in ancient as in modern times. the whole customary ways of thought were at once shaken by it, and shaken not only in the closets of philosophers, but in the common thought and daily business of ordinary men. the 'liberation of humanity,' as goethe used to call it--the deliverance of men from the yoke of inherited usage, and of rigid, unquestionable law--was begun in greece, and had many of its greatest effects, good and evil, on greece. it is just because of the analogy between the controversies of that time and those of our times that some one has said, 'classical history is a part of modern history; it is mediaeval history only which is ancient.' if there had been no discussion of principle in greece, probably she would still have produced works of art. homer contains no such discussion. the speeches in the 'iliad,' which mr. gladstone, the most competent of living judges, maintains to be the finest ever composed by man, are not discussions of principle. there is no more tendency in them to critical disquisition than there is to political economy. in herodotus you have the beginning of the age of discussion. he belongs in his essence to the age which is going out. he refers with reverence to established ordinance and fixed religion. still, in his travels through greece, he must have heard endless political arguments; and accordingly you can find in his book many incipient traces of abstract political disquisition. the discourses on democracy, aristocracy, and monarchy, which he puts into the mouth of the persian conspirators when the monarchy was vacant, have justly been called absurd, as speeches supposed to have been spoken by those persons. no asiatic ever thought of such things. you might as well imagine saul or david speaking them, as those to whom herodotus attributes them. they are greek speeches, full of free greek discussion, and suggested by the experience, already considerable, of the greeks in the results of discussion. the age of debate is beginning, and even herodotus, the least of a wrangler of any man, and the most of a sweet and simple narrator, felt the effect. when we come to thucydides, the results of discussion are as full as they have ever been; his light is pure, 'dry light,' free from the 'humours' of habit, and purged from consecrated usage. as grote's history often reads like a report to parliament, so half thucydides reads like a speech, or materials for a speech, in the athenian assembly. of later times it is unnecessary to speak. every page of aristotle and plato bears ample and indelible trace of the age of discussion in which they lived; and thought cannot possibly be freer. the deliverance of the speculative intellect from traditional and customary authority was altogether complete. no doubt the 'detachment' from prejudice, and the subjection to reason, which i ascribe to ancient athens, only went down a very little way among the population of it. two great classes of the people, the slaves and women, were almost excluded from such qualities; even the free population doubtless contained a far greater proportion of very ignorant and very superstitious persons than we are in the habit of imagining. we fix our attention on the best specimens of athenian culture--on the books which have descended to us, and we forget that the corporate action of the athenian people at various critical junctures exhibited the most gross superstition. still, as far as the intellectual and cultivated part of society is concerned, the triumph of reason was complete; the minds of the highest philosophers were then as ready to obey evidence and reason as they have ever been since; probably they were more ready. the rule of custom over them at least had been wholly broken, and the primary conditions of intellectual progress were in that respect satisfied. it may be said that i am giving too much weight to the classical idea of human development; that history contains the record of another progress as well; that in a certain sense there was progress in judaea as well as in athens. and unquestionably there was progress, but it was only progress upon a single subject. if we except religion and omit also all that the jews had learned from foreigners, it may be doubted if there be much else new between the time of samuel and that of malachi. in religion there was progress, but without it there was not any. this was due to the cause of that progress. all over antiquity, all over the east, and over other parts of the world which preserve more or less nearly their ancient condition, there are two classes of religious teachers--one, the priests, the inheritors of past accredited inspiration; the other, the prophet, the possessor of a like present inspiration. curtius describes the distinction well in relation to the condition of greece with which history first presents us:-- 'the mantic art is an institution totally different from the priesthood. it is based on the belief that the gods are in constant proximity to men, and in their government of the world, which comprehends every thing both great and small, will not disdain to manifest their will; nay, it seems necessary that, whenever any hitch has arisen in the moral system of the human world, this should also manifest itself by some sign in the world of nature, if only mortals are able to understand and avail themselves of these divine hints. 'for this a special capacity is requisite; not a capacity which can be learnt like a human art or science, but rather a peculiar state of grace in the case of single individuals and single families whose ears and eyes are opened to the divine revelations, and who participate more largely than the rest of mankind in the divine spirit. accordingly it is their office and calling to assert themselves as organs of the divine will; they are justified in opposing their authority to every power of the world. on this head conflicts were unavoidable, and the reminiscences living in the greek people, of the agency of a tiresias and calchas, prove how the heroic kings experienced not only support and aid, but also opposition and violent protests, from the mouths of the men of prophecy.' in judaea there was exactly the same opposition as elsewhere. all that is new comes from the prophets; all which is old is retained by the priests. but the peculiarity of judaea--a peculiarity which i do not for a moment pretend that i can explain--is that the prophetic revelations are, taken as a whole, indisputably improvements; that they contain, as time goes on, at each succeeding epoch, higher and better views of religion. but the peculiarity is not to my present purpose. my point is that there is no such spreading impetus in progress thus caused as there is in progress caused by discussion. to receive a particular conclusion upon the ipse dixit, upon the accepted authority of an admired instructor, is obviously not so vivifying to the argumentative and questioning intellect as to argue out conclusions for yourself. accordingly the religious progress caused by the prophets did not break down that ancient code of authoritative usage. on the contrary, the two combined. in each generation the conservative influence 'built the sepulchres' and accepted the teaching of past prophets, even while it was slaying and persecuting those who were living. but discussion and custom cannot be thus combined; their 'method,' as modern philosophers would say, is antagonistic. accordingly, the progress of the classical states gradually awakened the whole intellect; that of judaea was partial and improved religion only. and, therefore, in a history of intellectual progress, the classical fills the superior and the jewish the inferior place; just as in a special history of theology only, the places of the two might be interchanged. a second experiment has been tried on the same subject--matter. the characteristic of the middle ages may be approximately--though only approximately--described as a return to the period of authoritative usage and as an abandonment of the classical habit of independent and self-choosing thought. i do not for an instant mean that this is an exact description of the main mediaeval characteristic; nor can i discuss how far that characteristic was an advance upon those of previous times; its friends say it is far better than the peculiarities of the classical period; its enemies that it is far worse. but both friends and enemies will admit that the most marked feature of the middle ages may roughly be described as i have described it. and my point is that just as this mediaeval characteristic was that of a return to the essence of the customary epoch which had marked the pre-athenian times, so it was dissolved much in the same manner as the influence of athens, and other influences like it, claim to have dissolved that customary epoch. the principal agent in breaking up the persistent medieval customs, which were so fixed that they seemed likely to last for ever, or till some historical catastrophe overwhelmed them, was the popular element in the ancient polity which was everywhere diffused in the middle ages. the germanic tribes brought with them from their ancient dwelling-place a polity containing, like the classical, a king, a council, and a popular assembly; and wherever they went, they carried these elements and varied them, as force compelled or circumstances required. as far as england is concerned, the excellent dissertations of mr. freeman and mr. stubbs have proved this in the amplest manner, and brought it home to persons who cannot claim to possess much antiquarian learning. the history of the english constitution, as far as the world cares for it, is, in fact, the complex history of the popular element in this ancient polity, which was sometimes weaker and sometimes stronger, but which has never died out, has commonly possessed great though varying power, and is now entirely predominant. the history of this growth is the history of the english people; and the discussions about this constitution and the discussions within it, the controversies as to its structure and the controversies as to its true effects, have mainly trained the english political intellect, in so far as it is trained. but in much of europe, and in england particularly, the influence of religion has been very different from what it was in antiquity. it has been an influence of discussion. since luther's time there has been a conviction more or less rooted, that a man may by an intellectual process think out a religion for himself, and that, as the highest of all duties, he ought to do so. the influence of the political discussion, and the influence of the religious discussion, have been so long and so firmly combined, and have so effectually enforced one another, that the old notions of loyalty, and fealty, and authority, as they existed in the middle ages, have now over the best minds almost no effect. it is true that the influence of discussion is not the only force which has produced this vast effect. both in ancient and in modern times other forces cooperated with it. trade, for example, is obviously a force which has done much to bring men of different customs and different beliefs into close contiguity, and has thus aided to change the customs and the beliefs of them all. colonisation is another such influence: it settles men among aborigines of alien race and usages, and it commonly compels the colonists not to be over-strict in the choice of their own elements; they are obliged to coalesce with and 'adopt' useful bands and useful men, though their ancestral customs may not be identical, nay, though they may be, in fact, opposite to their own. in modern europe, the existence of a cosmopolite church, claiming to be above nations, and really extending through nations, and the scattered remains of roman law and roman civilisation co-operated with the liberating influence of political discussion. and so did other causes also. but perhaps in no case have these subsidiary causes alone been able to generate intellectual freedom; certainly in all the most remarkable cases the influence of discussion has presided at the creation of that freedom, and has been active and dominant in it. no doubt apparent cases of exception may easily be found. it may be said that in the court of augustus there was much general intellectual freedom, an almost entire detachment from ancient prejudice, but that there was no free political discussion at all. but, then, the ornaments of that time were derived from a time of great freedom: it was the republic which trained the men whom the empire ruled. the close congregation of most miscellaneous elements under the empire, was, no doubt, of itself unfavourable to inherited prejudice, and favourable to intellectual exertion. yet, except in the instance of the church, which is a peculiar subject that requires a separate discussion, how little was added to what the republic left! the power of free interchange of ideas being wanting, the ideas themselves were barren. also, no doubt, much intellectual freedom may emanate from countries of free political discussion, and penetrate to countries where that discussion is limited. thus the intellectual freedom of france in the eighteenth century was in great part owing to the proximity of and incessant intercourse with england and holland. voltaire resided among us; and every page of the 'esprit des lois' proves how much montesquieu learned from living here. but, of course, it was only part of the french culture which was so derived: the germ might be foreign, but the tissue was native. and very naturally, for it would be absurd to call the ancien regime a government without discussion: discussion abounded there, only, by reason of the bad form of the government, it was never sure with ease and certainty to affect political action. the despotism 'tempered by epigram,' was a government which permitted argument of licentious freedom within changing limits, and which was ruled by that argument spasmodically and practically, though not in name or consistently. but though in the earliest and in the latest time government by discussion has been a principal organ for improving mankind, yet, from its origin, it is a plant of singular delicacy. at first the chances are much against its living. in the beginning, the members of a free state are of necessity few. the essence of it requires that discussion shall be brought home to those members. but in early time, when writing is difficult, reading rare, and representation undiscovered, those who are to be guided by the discussion must hear it with their own ears, must be brought face to face with the orator, and must feel his influence for themselves. the first free states were little towns, smaller than any political division which we now have, except the republic of andorre, which is a sort of vestige of them. it is in the market-place of the country town, as we should now speak, and in petty matters concerning the market-town, that discussion began, and thither all the long train of its consequences may be traced back. some historical inquirers, like myself, can hardly look at such a place without some sentimental musing, poor and trivial as the thing seems. but such small towns are very feeble. numbers in the earliest wars, as in the latest, are a main source of victory. and in early times one kind of state is very common and is exceedingly numerous. in every quarter of the globe we find great populations compacted by traditional custom and consecrated sentiment, which are ruled by some soldier--generally some soldier of a foreign tribe, who has conquered them, and, as it has been said, 'vaulted on the back' of them, or whose ancestors have done so. these great populations, ruled by a single will, have, doubtless, trodden down and destroyed innumerable little cities who were just beginning their freedom. in this way the greek cities in asia were subjected to the persian power, and so ought the cities in greece proper to have been subjected also. every schoolboy must have felt that nothing but amazing folly and unmatched mismanagement saved greece from conquest both in the time of xerxes and in that of darius. the fortunes of intellectual civilisation were then at the mercy of what seems an insignificant probability. if the persian leaders had only shown that decent skill and ordinary military prudence which it was likely they would show, grecian freedom would have been at an end. athens, like so many ionian cities on the other side of the aegean, would have been absorbed into a great despotism; all we now remember her for we should not remember, for it would never have occurred. her citizens might have been ingenious, and imitative, and clever; they could not certainly have been free and original. rome was preserved from subjection to a great empire by her fortunate distance from one. the early wars of rome are with cities like rome--about equal in size, though inferior in valour. it was only when she had conquered italy that she began to measure herself against asiatic despotisms. she became great enough to beat them before she advanced far enough to contend with them. but such great good fortune was and must be rare. unnumbered little cities which might have rivalled rome or athens doubtless perished without a sign long before history was imagined. the small size and slight strength of early free states made them always liable to easy destruction. and their internal frailty is even greater. as soon as discussion begins the savage propensities of men break forth; even in modern communities, where those propensities, too, have been weakened by ages of culture, and repressed by ages of obedience, as soon as a vital topic for discussion is well started the keenest and most violent passions break forth. easily destroyed as are early free states by forces from without, they are even more liable to destruction by forces from within. on this account such states are very rare in history. upon the first view of the facts a speculation might even be set up that they were peculiar to a particular race. by far the most important free institutions, and the only ones which have left living representatives in the world, are the offspring either of the first constitutions of the classical nations or of the first constitutions of the germanic nations. all living freedom runs back to them, and those truths which at first sight would seem the whole of historical freedom, can be traced to them. and both the germanic and the classical nations belong to what ethnologists call the aryan race. plausibly it might be argued that the power of forming free states was superior in and peculiar to that family of mankind. but unfortunately for this easy theory the facts are inconsistent with it. in the first place, all the so-called aryan race certainly is not free. the eastern aryans--those, for example, who speak languages derived from the sanscrit--are amongst the most slavish divisions of mankind. to offer the bengalese a free constitution, and to expect them to work one, would be the maximum of human folly. there then must be something else besides aryan descent which is necessary to fit men for discussion and train them for liberty; and, what is worse for the argument we are opposing, some non-aryan races have been capable of freedom. carthage, for example, was a semitic republic. we do not know all the details of its constitution, but we know enough for our present purpose. we know that it was a government in which many proposers took part, and under which discussion was constant, active, and conclusive. no doubt tyre, the parent city of carthage, the other colonies of tyre besides carthage, and the colonies of carthage, were all as free as carthage. we have thus a whole group of ancient republics of non-aryan race, and one which, being more ancient than the classical republics, could not have borrowed from or imitated them. so that the theory which would make government by discussion the exclusive patrimony of a single race of mankind is on the face of it untenable. i am not prepared with any simple counter theory. i cannot profess to explain completely why a very small minimum of mankind were, as long as we know of them, possessed of a polity which as time went on suggested discussions of principle, and why the great majority of mankind had nothing like it. this is almost as hopeless as asking why milton was a genius and why bacon was a philosopher. indeed it is the same, because the causes which give birth to the startling varieties of individual character, and those which give birth to similar varieties of national character, are, in fact, the same. i have, indeed, endeavoured to show that a marked type of individual character once originating in a nation and once strongly preferred by it, is likely to be fixed on it and to be permanent in it, from causes which were stated. granted the beginning of the type, we may, i think, explain its development and aggravation; but we cannot in the least explain why the incipient type of curious characters broke out, if i may so say, in one place rather than in another. climate and 'physical' surroundings, in the largest sense, have unquestionably much influence; they are one factor in the cause, but they are not the only factor; for we find most dissimilar races of men living in the same climate and affected by the same surroundings, and we have every reason to believe that those unlike races have so lived as neighbours for ages. the cause of types must be something outside the tribe acting on something within--something inherited by the tribe. but what that something is i do not know that any one can in the least explain. the following conditions may, i think, be historically traced to the nation capable of a polity, which suggests principles for discussion, and so leads to progress. first, the nation must possess the patria potestas in some form so marked as to give family life distinctness and precision, and to make a home education and a home discipline probable and possible. while descent is traced only through the mother, and while the family is therefore a vague entity, no progress to a high polity is possible. secondly, that polity would seem to have been created very gradually; by the aggregation of families into clans or gentes, and of clans into nations, and then again by the widening of nations, so as to include circumjacent outsiders, as well as the first compact and sacred group--the number of parties to a discussion was at first augmented very slowly. thirdly, the number of 'open' subjects--as we should say nowadays--that is, of subjects on which public opinion was optional, and on which discussion was admitted, was at first very small. custom ruled everything originally, and the area of free argument was enlarged but very slowly. if i am at all right, that area could only be enlarged thus slowly, for custom was in early days the cement of society, and if you suddenly questioned such custom you would destroy society. but though the existence, of these conditions may be traced historically, and though the reason of them may be explained philosophically, they do not completely solve the question why some nations have the polity and some not; on the contrary, they plainly leave a large 'residual phenomenon' unexplained and unknown. ii. in this manner politics or discussion broke up the old bonds of custom which were now strangling mankind, though they had once aided and helped it. but this is only one of the many gifts which those polities have conferred, are conferring, and will confer on mankind. i am not going to write an eulogium on liberty, but i wish to set down three points which have not been sufficiently noticed. civilised ages inherit the human nature which was victorious in barbarous ages, and that nature is, in many respects, not at all suited to civilised circumstances. a main and principal excellence in the early times of the human races is the impulse to action. the problems before men are then plain and simple. the man who works hardest, the man who kills the most deer, the man who catches the most fish--even later on, the man who tends the largest herds, or the man who tills the largest field--is the man who succeeds; the nation which is quickest to kill its enemies, or which kills most of its enemies, is the nation which succeeds. all the inducements of early society tend to foster immediate action; all its penalties fall on the man who pauses; the traditional wisdom of those times was never weary of inculcating that 'delays are dangerous,' and that the sluggish man--the man 'who roasteth not that which he took in hunting'--will not prosper on the earth, and indeed will very soon perish out of it. and in consequence an inability to stay quiet, an irritable desire to act directly, is one of the most conspicuous failings of mankind. pascal said that most of the evils of life arose from 'man's being unable to sit still in a room;' and though i do not go that length, it is certain that we should have been a far wiser race than we are if 'we had been readier to sit quiet--we should have known much better the way in which it was best to act when we came to act. the rise of physical science, the first great body of practical truth provable to all men, exemplifies this in the plainest way. if it had not been for quiet people, who sat still and studied the sections of the cone, if other quiet people had not sat still and studied the theory of infinitesimals, or other quiet people had not sat still and worked out the doctrine of chances, the most 'dreamy moonshine,' as the purely practical mind would consider, of all human pursuits; if 'idle star-gazers' had not watched long and carefully the motions of the heavenly bodies--our modern astronomy would have been impossible, and without our astronomy 'our ships, our colonies, our seamen,' all which makes modern life modern life could not have existed. ages of sedentary, quiet, thinking people were required before that noisy existence began, and without those pale preliminary students it never could have been brought into being. and nine-tenths of modern science is in this respect the same: it is the produce of men whom their contemporaries thought dreamers--who were laughed at for caring for what did not concern them--who, as the proverb went, 'walked into a well from looking at the stars'--who were believed to be useless, if any one could be such. and the conclusion is plain that if there had been more such people, if the world had not laughed at those there were, if rather it had encouraged them there would have been a great accumulation of proved science ages before there was. it was the irritable activity, the 'wish to be doing something,' that prevented it. most men inherited a nature too eager and too restless to be quiet and find out things; and even worse--with their idle clamour they 'disturbed the brooding hen,' they would not let those be quiet who wished to be so, and out of whose calm thought much good might have come forth. if we consider how much science has done and how much it is doing for mankind, and if the over-activity of men is proved to be the cause why science came so late into the world, and is so small and scanty still, that will convince most people that our over-activity is a very great evil. but this is only part, and perhaps not the greatest part of the harm that over-activity does. as i have said, it is inherited from times when life was simple, objects were plain, and quick action generally led to desirable ends. if a kills b before b kills a, then a survives, and the human race is a race of a's. but the issues of life are plain no longer. to act rightly in modern society requires a great deal of previous study, a great deal of assimilated information, a great deal of sharpened imagination; and these pre-requisites of sound action require much time, and, i was going to say, much 'lying in the sun,' a long period of 'mere passiveness.' even the art of killing one another, which at first particularly trained men to be quick, now requires them to be slow. a hasty general is the worst of generals nowadays; the best is a sort of von moltke, who is passive if any man ever was passive; who is 'silent in seven languages;' who possesses more and better accumulated information as to the best way of killing people than any one who ever lived. this man plays a restrained and considerate game of chess with his enemy. i wish the art of benefiting men had kept pace with the art of destroying them; for though war has become slow, philanthropy has remained hasty. the most melancholy of human reflections, perhaps, is that, on the whole, it is a question whether the benevolence of mankind does most good or harm. great good, no doubt, philanthropy does, but then it also does great evil. it augments so much vice, it multiplies so much suffering, it brings to life such great populations to suffer and to be vicious, that it is open to argument whether it be or be not an evil to the world, and this is entirely because excellent people fancy that they can do much by rapid action--that they will most benefit the world when they most relieve their own feelings; that as soon as an evil is seen 'something' ought to be done to stay and prevent it. one may incline to hope that the balance of good over evil is in favour of benevolence; one can hardly bear to think that it is not so; but anyhow it is certain that there is a most heavy debit of evil, and that this burden might almost all have been spared us if philanthropists as well as others had not inherited from their barbarous forefathers a wild passion for instant action. even in commerce, which is now the main occupation of mankind, and one in which there is a ready test of success and failure wanting in many higher pursuits, the same disposition to excessive action is very apparent to careful observers. part of every mania is caused by the impossibility to get people to confine themselves to the amount of business for which their capital is sufficient, and in which they can engage safely. in some degree, of course, this is caused by the wish, to get rich; but in a considerable degree, too, by the mere love of activity. there is a greater propensity to action in such men than they have the means of gratifying. operations with their own capital will only occupy four hours of the day, and they wish to be active and to be industrious for eight hours, and so they are ruined. if they could only have sat idle the other four hours, they would have been rich men. the amusements of mankind, at least of the english part of mankind, teach the same lesson. our shooting, our hunting, our travelling, our climbing have become laborious pursuits. it is a common saying abroad that 'an englishman's notion of a holiday is a fatiguing journey;' and this is only another way of saying that the immense energy and activity which have given us our place in the world have in many cases descended to those who do not find in modern life any mode of using that activity, and of venting that energy. even the abstract speculations of mankind bear conspicuous traces of the same excessive impulse. every sort of philosophy has been systematised, and yet as these philosophies utterly contradict one another, most of them cannot be true. unproved abstract principles without number have been eagerly caught up by sanguine men, and then carefully spun out into books and theories, which were to explain the whole world. but the world goes clear against these abstractions, and it must do so, as they require it to go in antagonistic directions. the mass of a system attracts the young and impresses the unwary; but cultivated people are very dubious about it. they are ready to receive hints and suggestions, and the smallest real truth is ever welcome. but a large book of deductive philosophy is much to be suspected. no doubt the deductions may be right; in most writers they are so; but where did the premises come from? who is sure that they are the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, of the matter in hand? who is not almost sure beforehand that they will contain a strange mixture of truth and error, and therefore that it will not be worth while to spend life in reasoning over their consequences? in a word, the superfluous energy of mankind has flowed over into philosophy, and has worked into big systems what should have been left as little suggestions. and if the old systems of thought are not true as systems, neither is the new revolt from them to be trusted in its whole vigour. there is the same original vice in that also. there is an excessive energy in revolutions if there is such energy anywhere. the passion for action is quite as ready to pull down as to build up; probably it is more ready, for the task is easier. 'old things need not be therefore true, o brother men, nor yet the new; ah, still awhile the old thought retain, and yet consider it again.' but this is exactly what the human mind will not do. it will act somehow at once. it will not 'consider it again.' but it will be said, what has government by discussion to do with these things? will it prevent them, or even mitigate them? it can and does do both in the very plainest way. if you want to stop instant and immediate action, always make it a condition that the action shall not begin till a considerable number of persons have talked over it, and have agreed on it. if those persons be people of different temperaments, different ideas, and different educations, you have an almost infallible security that nothing, or almost nothing, will be done with excessive rapidity. each kind of persons will have their spokesman; each spokesman will have his characteristic objection, and each his characteristic counter-proposition, and so in the end nothing will probably be done, or at least only the minimum which is plainly urgent. in, many cases this delay may be dangerous; in many cases quick action will be preferable. a campaign, as macaulay well says, cannot be directed by a 'debating society;' and many other kinds of action also require a single and absolute general. but for the purpose now in hand--that of preventing hasty action, and ensuring elaborate consideration--there is no device like a polity of discussion. the enemies of this object--the people who want to act quickly--see this very distinctly. they are for ever explaining that the present is 'an age of committees,' that the committees do nothing, that all evaporates in talk. their great enemy is parliamentary government; they call it, after mr. carlyle, the 'national palaver;' they add up the hours that are consumed in it, and the speeches which are made in it, and they sigh for a time when england might again be ruled, as it once was, by a cromwell--that is, when an eager, absolute man might do exactly what other eager men wished, and do it immediately. all these invectives are perpetual and many-sided; they come from philosophers, each of whom wants some new scheme tried; from philanthropists, who want some evil abated; from revolutionists, who want some old institution destroyed; from new aeraists, who want their new aera started forthwith. and they all are distinct admissions that a polity of discussion is the greatest hindrance to the inherited mistake of human nature, to the desire to act promptly, which in a simple age is so excellent, but which in a later and complex time leads to so much evil. the same accusation against our age sometimes takes a more general form. it is alleged that our energies are diminishing; that ordinary and average men have not the quick determination nowadays which they used to have when the world was younger; that not only do not committees and parliaments act with rapid decisiveness, but that no one now so acts. and i hope that in fact this is true, for according to me, it proves that the hereditary barbaric impulse is decaying and dying out. so far from thinking the quality attributed to us a defect, i wish that those who complain of it were far more right than i much fear they are. still, certainly, eager and violent action is somewhat diminished, though only by a small fraction of what it ought to be. and i believe that this is in great part due, in england at least, to our government by discussion, which has fostered a general intellectual tone, a diffused disposition to weigh evidence, a conviction that much may be said on every side of everything which the elder and more fanatic ages of the world wanted. this is the real reason why our energies seem so much less than those of our fathers. when we have a definite end in view, which we know we want, and which we think we know how to obtain, we can act well enough. the campaigns of our soldiers are as energetic as any campaigns ever were; the speculations of our merchants have greater promptitude, greater audacity, greater vigour than any such speculations ever had before. in old times a few ideas got possession of men and communities, but this is happily now possible no longer. we see how incomplete these old ideas were; how almost by chance one seized on one nation, and another on another; how often one set of men have persecuted another set for opinions on subjects of which neither, we now perceive, knew anything. it might be well if a greater number of effectual demonstrations existed among mankind; but while no such demonstrations exist, and while the evidence which completely convinces one man seems to another trifling and insufficient, let us recognise the plain position of inevitable doubt. let us not be bigots with a doubt, and persecutors without a creed. we are beginning to bee this, and we are railed at for so beginning. but it is a great benefit, and it is to the incessant prevalence of detective discussion that our doubts are due; and much of that discussion is due to the long existence of a government requiring constant debates, written and oral. this is one of the unrecognised benefits of free government, one of the modes in which it counteracts the excessive inherited impulses of humanity. there is another also for which it does the same, but which i can only touch delicately, and which at first sight will seem ridiculous. the most successful races, other things being equal, are those which multiply the fastest. in the conflicts of mankind numbers have ever been a great power. the most numerous group has always had an advantage over the less numerous, and the fastest breeding group has always tended to be the most numerous. in consequence, human nature has descended into a comparatively uncontentious civilisation, with a desire far in excess of what is needed; with a 'felt want,' as political economists would say, altogether greater than the 'real want.' a walk in london is all which is necessary to establish this. 'the great sin of great cities' is one vast evil consequent upon it. and who is to reckon up how much these words mean? how many spoiled lives, how many broken hearts, how many wasted bodies, how many ruined minds, how much misery pretending to be gay, how much gaiety feeling itself to be miserable, how much after mental pain, how much eating and transmitted disease. and in the moral part of the world, how many minds are racked by incessant anxiety, how many thoughtful imaginations which might have left something to mankind are debased to mean cares, how much every successive generation sacrifices to the next, how little does any of them make of itself in comparison with what might be. and how many irelands have there been in the world where men would have been contented and happy if they had only been fewer; how many more irelands would there have been if the intrusive numbers had not been kept down by infanticide and vice and misery. how painful is the conclusion that it is dubious whether all the machines and inventions of mankind 'have yet lightened the day's labour of a human being.' they have enabled more people to exist, but these people work just as hard and are just as mean and miserable as the elder and the fewer. but it will be said of this passion just as it was said of the passion of activity. granted that it is in excess, how can you say, how on earth can anyone say, that government by discussion can in any way cure or diminish, it? cure this evil that government certainly will not; but tend to diminish it--i think it does and may. to show that i am not making premises to support a conclusion so abnormal, i will quote a passage from mr. spencer, the philosopher who has done most to illustrate this subject:-- 'that future progress of civilisation which the never-ceasing pressure of population must produce, will be accompanied by an enhanced cost of individuation, both in structure and function; and more especially in nervous structure and function. the peaceful struggle for existence in societies ever growing more crowded and more complicated, must have for its concomitant an increase of the great nervous centres in mass, in complexity, in activity. the larger body of emotion needed as a fountain of energy for men who have to hold their places and rear their families under the intensifying competition of social life, is, other things equal, the correlative of larger brain. those higher feelings presupposed by the better self-regulation which, in a better society, can alone enable the individual to leave a persistent posterity, are, other things equal, the correlatives of a more complex brain; as are also those more numerous, more varied, more general, and more abstract ideas, which must also become increasingly requisite for successful life as society advances. and the genesis of this larger quantity of feeling and thought in a brain thus augmented in size and developed in structure, is, other things equal, the correlative of a greater wear of nervous tissue and greater consumption of materials to repair it. so that both in original cost of construction and in subsequent cost of working, the nervous system must become a heavier tax on the organism. already the brain of the civilised man is larger by nearly thirty percent, than the brain of the savage. already, too, it presents an increased heterogeneity--especially in the distribution of its convolutions. and further changes like these which have taken place under the discipline of civilised life, we infer will continue to take place.... but everywhere and always, evolution is antagonistic to procreative dissolution. whether it be in greater growth of the organs which subserve self-maintenance, whether it be in their added complexity of structure, or whether it be in their higher activity, the abstraction of the required materials implies a diminished reserve of materials for race-maintenance. and we have seen reason to believe that this antagonism between individuation and genesis becomes unusually marked where the nervous system is concerned, because of the costliness of nervous structure and function. in section was pointed out the apparent connection between high cerebral development and prolonged delay of sexual maturity; and in sections , , the evidence went to show that where exceptional fertility exists there is sluggishness of mind, and that where there has been during education excessive expenditure in mental action, there frequently follows a complete or partial infertility. hence the particular kind of further evolution which man is hereafter to undergo, is one which, more than any other, may be expected to cause a decline in his power of reproduction.' this means that men who have to live an intellectual life, or who can be induced to lead one, will be likely not to have so many children as they would otherwise have had. in particular cases this may not be true; such men may even have many children--they may be men in all ways of unusual power and vigour. but they will not have their maximum of posterity--will not have so many as they would have had if they had been careless or thoughtless men; and so, upon an average, the issue of such intellectualised men will be less numerous than those of the unintellectual. now, supposing this philosophical doctrine to be true--and the best philosophers, i think, believe it--its application to the case in hand is plain. nothing promotes intellect like intellectual discussion, and nothing promotes intellectual discussion so much as government by discussion. the perpetual atmosphere of intellectual inquiry acts powerfully, as everyone may see by looking about him in london, upon the constitution both of men and women. there is only a certain quantum of power in each of our race; if it goes in one way it is spent, and cannot go in another. the intellectual atmosphere abstracts strength to intellectual matters; it tends to divert that strength--which the circumstances of early society directed to the multiplication of numbers; and as a polity of discussion tends, above all things, to produce an intellectual atmosphere, the two things which seemed so far off have been shown to be near, and free government has, in a second case, been shown to tend to cure an inherited excess of human nature. lastly, a polity of discussion not only tends to diminish our inherited defects, but also, in one case at least, to augment a heritable excellence. it tends to strengthen and increase a subtle quality or combination of qualities singularly useful in practical life-a quality which it is not easy to describe exactly, and the issues of which it would require not a remnant of an essay, but a whole essay to elucidate completely. this quality i call animated moderation. if anyone were asked to describe what it is which distinguishes the writings of a man of genius who is also a great man of the world from all other writings, i think he would use these same words, 'animated moderation.' he would say that such writings are never slow, are never excessive, are never exaggerated; that they are always instinct with judgment, and yet that judgment is never a dull judgment; that they have as much spirit in them as would go to make a wild writer, and yet that every line of them is the product of a sane and sound writer. the best and almost perfect instance of this in english is scott. homer was perfect in it, as far as we can judge; shakespeare is often perfect in it for long together, though then, from the defects of a bad education and a vicious age, all at once he loses himself in excesses. still, homer, and shakespeare at his best, and scott, though in other respects so unequal to them, have this remarkable quality in common--this union of life with measure, of spirit with reasonableness. in action it is equally this quality in which the english--at least so i claim it for them--excel all other nations. there is an infinite deal to be laid against us, and as we are unpopular with most others, and as we are always grumbling at ourselves, there is no want of people to say it. but, after all, in a certain sense, england is a success in the world; her career has had many faults, but still it has been, a fine and winning career upon the whole. and this on account of the exact possession of this particular quality. what is the making of a successful merchant? that he has plenty of energy, and yet that he does not go too far. and if you ask for a description of a great practical englishman, you will be sure to have this, or something like it, 'oh, he has plenty of go in him; but he knows when to pull up.' he may have all other defects in him; he may be coarse, he may be illiterate, he may be stupid to talk to; still this great union of spur and bridle, of energy and moderation, will remain to him. probably he will hardly be able to explain why he stops when he does stop, or why he continued to move as long as he, in fact, moved; but still, as by a rough instinct, he pulls up pretty much where he should, though he was going at such a pace before. there is no better example of this quality in english statesmen than lord palmerston. there are, of course, many most serious accusations to be made against him. the sort of homage with which he was regarded in the last years of his life has passed away; the spell is broken, and the magic cannot be again revived. we may think that his information was meagre, that his imagination was narrow, that his aims were short--sighted and faulty. but though we may often object to his objects, we rarely find much to criticise in his means. 'he went,' it has been said, 'with a great swing;' but he never tumbled over; he always managed to pull up 'before there was any danger.' he was an odd man to have inherited hampden's motto; still, in fact, there was a great trace in him of _mediocria firma_--as much, probably, as there could be in anyone of such great vivacity and buoyancy. it is plain that this is a quality which as much as, if not more than, any other multiplies good results in practical life. it enables men to see what is good; it gives them intellect enough for sufficient perception; but it does not make men all intellect; it does not' sickly them o'er with the pale cast of thought;' it enables them to do the good things they see to be good, as well as to see that they are good. and it is plain that a government by popular discussion tends to produce this quality. a strongly idiosyncratic mind, violently disposed to extremes of opinion, is soon weeded out of political life, and a bodiless thinker, an ineffectual scholar, cannot even live there for a day. a vigorous moderateness in mind and body is the rule of a polity which works by discussion; and, upon the whole, it is the kind of temper most suited to the active life of such a being as man in such a world as the present one. these three great benefits of free government, though great, are entirely secondary to its continued usefulness in the mode in which it originally was useful. the first great benefit was the deliverance of mankind from the superannuated yoke of customary law, by the gradual development of an inquisitive originality. and it continues to produce that effect upon persons apparently far remote from its influence, and on subjects with which it has nothing to do. thus mr. mundella, a most experienced and capable judge, tells us that the english artisan, though so much less sober, less instructed, and less refined than the artisans of some other countries, is yet more inventive than any other artisan. the master will get more good suggestions from him than from any other. again, upon plausible grounds--looking, for example, to the position of locke and newton in the science of the last century, and to that of darwin in our own--it may be argued that there is some quality in english thought which makes them strike out as many, if not more, first-rate and original suggestions than nations of greater scientific culture and more diffused scientific interest. in both cases i believe the reason of the english originality to be that government by discussion quickens and enlivens thought all through society; that it makes people think no harm may come of thinking; that in england this force has long been operating, and so it has developed more of all kinds of people ready to use their mental energy in their own way, and not ready to use it in any other way, than a despotic government. and so rare is great originality among mankind, and so great are its fruits, that this one benefit of free government probably outweighs what are in many cases its accessory evils. of itself it justifies, or goes far to justify, our saying with montesquieu, 'whatever be the cost of this glorious liberty, we must be content to pay it to heaven.' no. vi. verifiable progress politically considered. the original publication of these essays was interrupted by serious illness and by long consequent ill--health, i and now that i am putting them together i wish to add another which shall shortly explain the main thread of the argument which they contain. in doing so there is a risk of tedious repetition, but on a subject both obscure and important, any defect is better than an appearance of vagueness. in a former essay i attempted to show that slighter causes than is commonly thought may change a nation from the stationary to the progressive state of civilisation, and from the stationary to the degrading. commonly the effect of the agent is looked on in the wrong way. it is considered as operating on every individual in the nation, and it is assumed, or half assumed, that it is only the effect which the agent directly produces on everyone that need be considered. but besides this diffused effect of the first impact of the cause, there is a second effect, always considerable, and commonly more potent--a new model in character is created for the nation; those characters which resemble it are encouraged and multiplied; those contrasted with it are persecuted and made fewer. in a generation or two, the look of the nation, becomes quite different; the characteristic men who stand out are different, the men imitated are different; the result of the imitation is different. a lazy nation may be changed into an industrious, a rich into a poor, a religious into a profane, as if by magic, if any single cause, though slight, or any combination of causes, however subtle, is strong enough to change the favourite and detested types of character. this principle will, i think, help us in trying to solve the question why so few nations have progressed, though to us progress seems so natural-what is the cause or set of causes which have prevented that progress in the vast majority of cases, and produced it in the feeble minority. but there is a preliminary difficulty: what is progress, and what is decline? even in the animal world there is no applicable rule accepted by physiologists, which settles what animals are higher or lower than others; there are controversies about it. still more then in the more complex combinations and politics of human beings it is likely to be hard to find an agreed criterion for saying which nation is before another, or what age of a nation was marching forward and which was falling back. archbishop manning would have one rule of progress and decline; professor huxley, in most important points, quite an opposite rule; what one would set down as an advance, the other would set down as a retreat. each has a distinct end which he wishes and a distinct calamity which he fears, but the desire of the one is pretty near the fear of the other; books would not hold the controversy between them. again, in art, who is to settle what is advance and what decline? would mr. buskin agree with anyone else on this subject, would he even agree with himself or could any common enquirer venture to say whether he was right or wrong? i am afraid that i must, as sir wm. hamilton used to say, 'truncate a problem which i cannot solve.' i must decline to sit in judgment on disputed points of art, morals, or religion. but without so doing i think there is such a thing as 'verifiable progress,' if we may say so; that is, progress which ninety-nine hundredths or more of mankind will admit to be such, against which there is no established or organised opposition creed, and the objectors to which, essentially varying in opinion themselves, and believing one thing and another the reverse, may be safely and altogether rejected. let us consider in what a village of english colonists is superior to a tribe of australian natives who roam about them. indisputably in one, and that a main sense, they are superior. they can beat the australians in war when they like; they can take from them anything they like, and kill any of them they choose. as a rule, in all the outlying and uncontested districts of the world, the aboriginal native lies at the mercy of the intruding european. 'nor is this all. indisputably in the english village there are more means of happiness, a greater accumulation of the instruments of enjoyment, than in the australian tribe. "the english have all manner of books, utensils, and machines which the others do not use, value, or understand. and in addition, and beyond particular inventions, there is a general strength which is capable of being used in conquering a thousand difficulties, and is an abiding source of happiness, because those who possess it always feel that they can use it." if we omit the higher but disputed topics of morals and religion, we shall find, i think, that the plainer and agreed--on superiorities of the englishmen are these: first, that they have a greater command over the powers of nature upon the whole. though they may fall short of individual australians in certain feats of petty skill, though they may not throw the boomerang as well, or light a fire with earthsticks as well, yet on the whole twenty englishmen with their implements and skill can change the material world immeasurably more than twenty australians and their machines. secondly, that this power is not external only; it is also internal. the english not only possess better machines for moving nature, but are themselves better machines. mr. babbage taught us years ago that one great use of machinery was not to augment the force of man, but to register and regulate the power of man; and this in a thousand ways civilised man can do, and is ready to do, better and more precisely than the barbarian. thirdly, | civilised man not only has greater powers over nature, but knows better how to use them, and by better i here mean better for the health and comfort of his present body and mind. he can lay up for old age, which a savage having no durable means of sustenance cannot; he is ready to lay up because he can distinctly foresee the future, which the vague--minded savage cannot; he is mainly desirous of gentle, continuous pleasure, i whereas the barbarian likes wild excitement, and longs for stupefying repletion. much, if not all, of these three ways may be summed up in mr. spencer's phrase, that progress is an increase of adaptation of man to his environment, that is, of his internal powers and wishes to his external lot and life. something of it too is expressed in the old pagan idea 'mens sana in corpore sano.' and i think this sort of progress may be fairly investigated quite separately, as it is progress in a sort of good everyone worth reckoning with admits and i agrees in. no doubt there will remain people like the aged savage, who in his old age went back to his savage tribe and said that he had 'tried civilisation for forty years, and it was not worth the trouble.' but we need not take account of the mistaken ideas of unfit men and beaten races. on the whole the plainer sort of civilisation, the simpler moral training, and the more elementary education are plain benefits. and though there may be doubt as to the edges of the conception yet there certainly is a broad road of 'verifiable progress' which not only discoverers and admirers will like, but which all those who come upon it will use and value. unless some kind of abstraction like this is made in the subject the great problem 'what causes progress?' will, i am confident, long remain unsolved. unless we are content to solve simple problems first, the whole history of philosophy teaches that we shall never solve hard problems. this is the maxim of scientific humility so often insisted on by the highest enquirers that, in investigations, as in life, those 'who exalt themselves shall be abased, and those who humble themselves shall be exalted;' and though we may seem mean only to look for the laws of plain comfort and simple present happiness, yet we must work out that simple case first, before we encounter the incredibly harder additional difficulties of the higher art, morals and religion. the difficulty of solving the problem even thus limited is exceedingly great. the most palpable facts, are exactly the contrary to what we should expect. lord macaulay tells us that 'in every experimental science there is a tendency towards perfection. in every human being there is a tendency to ameliorate his condition;' and these two principles operating everywhere and always, might well have been expected to 'carry mankind rapidly forward.' indeed, taking verifiable progress in the sense which has just been given to it, we may say that nature gives a prize to every single step in it. everyone that makes an invention that benefits himself or those around him, is likely to be more comfortable himself and to be more respected by those around him. to produce new things 'serviceable to man's life and conducive to man's estate,' is, we should say, likely to bring increased happiness to the producer. it often brings immense reward certainly now; a new form of good steel pen, a way of making some kind of clothes a little better or a little cheaper, have brought men great fortunes. and there is the same kind of prize for industrial improvement in the earliest times as in the latest; though the benefits so obtainable in early society are poor indeed in comparison with those of advanced society. nature is like a schoolmaster, at least in this, she gives her finest prizes to her high and most instructed classes; still, even in the earliest society, nature helps those who can help themselves, and helps them very much. all this should have made the progress of mankind--progress at least in this limited sense-exceedingly common; but, in fact, any progress is extremely rare. as a rule (and as has been insisted on before) a stationary state is by far the most frequent condition of man, as far as history describes that condition; the progressive state is only a rare and an occasional exception. before history began there must have been in the nation which writes it much progress; else there could have been no history. it is a great advance in civilisation to be able to describe the common facts of life, and perhaps, if we were to examine it, we should find that it was at least an equal advance to wish to describe them. but very few races have made this step of progress; very few have been capable even of the meanest sort of history; and as for writing such a history as that of thucydides, most nations could as soon have constructed a planet. when history begins to record, she finds most of the races incapable of history, arrested, unprogressive, and pretty much where they are now. why, then, have not the obvious and natural causes of progress (as we should call them) produced those obvious and natural effects? why have the real fortunes of mankind been so different from the fortunes which we should expect? this is the problem which in various forms i have taken up in these papers, and this is the outline of the solution which i have attempted to propose. the progress of man requires the co--operation of men for its development. that which any one man or any one family could invent for themselves is obviously exceedingly limited. and even if this were not true, isolated progress could never be traced. the rudest sort of cooperative society, the lowest tribe and the feeblest government, is so much stronger than isolated man, that isolated man (if he ever existed in any shape which could be called man), might very easily have ceased to exist. the first principle of the subject is that man can only progress in 'co-operative groups;' i might say tribes and nations, but i use the less common word because few people would at once see that tribes and nations are co-operative groups, and that it is their being so which makes their value; that unless you can make a strong co-operative bond, your society will be conquered and killed out by some other society which has such a bond; and the second principle is that the members of such a group should be similar enough to one another to co-operate easily and readily together. the co-operation in all such cases depends on a felt union of heart and spirit; and this is only felt when there is a great degree of real likeness in mind and feeling, however that likeness may have been attained. this needful co-operation and this requisite likeness i believe to have been produced by one of the strongest yokes (as we should think if it were to be reimposed now) and the most terrible tyrannies ever known among men--the authority of 'customary law.', in its earlier stage this is no pleasant power--no 'rosewater' authority, as carlyle would have called it--but a stern, incessant, implacable rule. and the rule is often of most childish origin, beginning in a casual superstition or local accident. 'these people,' says captain palmer of the fiji,' are very conservative. a chief was one day going over a mountain-path followed by a long string of his people, when he happened to stumble and fall; all the rest of the people immediately did the same except one man, who was set upon by the rest to know whether he considered himself better than the chief.' what can be worse than a life regulated by that sort of obedience, and that sort of imitation? this is, of course, a bad specimen, but the nature of customary law as we everywhere find it in its earliest stages is that of coarse casual comprehensive usage, beginning, we cannot tell how, deciding, we cannot tell why, but ruling everyone in almost every action with an inflexible grasp. the necessity of thus forming co-operative groups by fixed customs explains the necessity of isolation in early society. as a matter of fact all great nations have been prepared in privacy and in secret. they have been composed far away from all distraction. greece, borne, judaea, were framed each by itself, and the antipathy of each to men of different race and different speech is one of their most marked peculiarities, and quite their strongest common property. and the instinct of early ages is a right guide for the needs of early ages. intercourse with foreigners then broke down in states the fixed rules which were forming their characters, so as to be a cause of weak fibre of mind, of desultory and unsettled action; the living spectacle of an admitted unbelief destroys the binding authority of religious custom and snaps the social cord. thus we see the use of a sort of 'preliminary' age in societies, when trade is bad because it prevents the separation of nations, because it infuses distracting ideas among occupied communities, because it 'brings alien minds to alien shores. and as the trade which we now think of as an incalculable good, is in that age a formidable evil and destructive calamity; so war and conquest, which we commonly and justly see to be now evils, are in that age often singular benefits and great advantages. it is only by the competition of customs that bad customs can be eliminated and good customs multiplied. conquest is the premium given by nature to those national characters which their national customs have made most fit to win in war, and in many most material respects those winning characters are really the best characters. the characters which do win in war are the characters which we should wish to win in war. similarly, the best institutions have a natural military advantage over bad institutions. the first great victory of civilisation was the conquest of nations with ill-defined families having legal descent through the mother only, by nations of definite families tracing descent through the father as well as the mother, or through the father only. such compact families are a much better basis for military discipline than the ill-bound families which indeed seem hardly to be families at all, where 'paternity' is, for tribal purposes, an unrecognised idea, and where only the physical fact of 'maternity' is thought to be certain enough to be the foundation of law or custom. the nations with a thoroughly compacted family system have 'possessed the earth,' that is, they have taken all the finest districts in the most competed-for parts; and the nations with loose systems have been merely left to mountain ranges and lonely islands. the family system and that in its highest form has been so exclusively the system of civilisation, that literature hardly recognises any other, and that, if it were not for the living testimony of a great multitude of scattered communities which are 'fashioned after the structure of the elder world,' we should hardly admit the possibility of something so contrary to all which we have lived amongst, and which we have been used to think of. after such an example of the fragmentary nature of the evidence it is in comparison easy to believe that hundreds of strange institutions may have passed away and have left behind them not only no memorial, but not even a trace or a vestige to help the imagination to figure what they were. i cannot expand the subject, but in the same way the better religions have had a great physical advantage, if i may say so, over the worse. they have given what i may call a confidence in the universe. the savage subjected to a mean superstition, is afraid to walk simply about the world--he cannot do this because it is ominous, or he must do that because it is lucky, or he cannot do anything at all till the gods have spoken and given him leave to begin. but under the higher religions there is no similar slavery and no similar terror. the belief of the greek _eis oianos aristos amúnesthai perì pátrês;_ the belief of the roman that he was to trust in the gods of borne, for those gods are stronger than all others; the belief of cromwell's soldiery that they were 'to trust in god and keep their powder dry,' are great steps in upward progress, using progress in its narrowest sense. they all enabled those who believed them 'to take the world as it comes,' to be guided by no unreal reason, and to be limited by no mystic scruple; whenever they found anything to do, to do it with their might. and more directly what i may call the fortifying religions, that is to say, those which lay the plainest stress on the manly parts of morality--upon valour, on truth and industry--have had plainly the most obvious effect in strengthening the races which believed them, and in making those races the winning races. no doubt many sorts of primitive improvement are pernicious to war; an exquisite sense of beauty, a love of meditation, a tendency to cultivate the force of the mind at the expense of the force of the body, for example, help in their respective degrees to make men less warlike than they would otherwise be. but these are the virtues of other ages. the first work of the first ages is to bind men together in the strong bond of a rough, coarse, harsh custom; and the incessant conflict of nations effects this in the best way. every nation, is an 'hereditary co-operative group,' bound by a fixed custom; and out of those groups those conquer which have the most binding and most invigorating customs, and these are, as a rough rule, the best customs. the majority of the 'groups' which win and conquer are better than the majority of those which fail and perish, and thus the first world grow better and was improved. this early customary world no doubt continued for ages. the first history delineates great monarchies, each composed of a hundred customary groups, all of which believed themselves to be of enormous antiquity, and all of which must have existed for very many generations. the first historical world is not a new-looking thing but a very ancient, and according to principle it is necessary that it should exist for ages. if human nature was to be gradually improved, each generation must be born better tamed, more calm, more capable of civilisation--in a word, more legal than the one before it, and such inherited improvements are always slow and dubious. though a few gifted people may advance much, the mass of each generation can improve but very little on the generation which preceded it; and even the slight improvement so gained is liable to be destroyed by some mysterious atavism--some strange recurrence to a primitive past. long ages of dreary monotony are the first facts in the history of human communities, but those ages were not lost to mankind, for it was then that was formed the comparatively gentle and guidable thing which we now call human nature. and indeed the greatest difficulty is not in preserving such a world but in ending it. we have brought in the yoke of custom to improve the world, and in the world the custom sticks. in a thousand cases--in the great majority of cases--the progress of mankind has been arrested in this its earliest shape; it has been closely embalmed in a mummy-like imitation of its primitive existence. i have endeavoured to show in what manner, and how slowly, and in how few cases this yoke of custom was removed. it was 'government by discussion ', which broke the bond of ages and set free the originality of mankind. then, and then only, the motives which lord macaulay counted on to secure the progress of mankind, in fact, begin to work; then 'the tendency in every man to ameliorate his condition' begins to be important, because then man can alter his condition while before he is pegged down by ancient usage; then the tendency in each mechanical art towards perfection begins to have force, because the artist is at last allowed to seek perfection, after having been forced for ages to move in the straight furrow of the old fixed way. as soon as this great step upwards is once made, all or almost all, the higher gifts and graces of humanity have a rapid and a definite effect on 'verifiable progress'--on progress in the narrowest, because in the most universally admitted sense of the term. success in life, then, depends, as we have seen, more than anything else on 'animated moderation,' on a certain combination of energy of mind and balance of mind, hard to attain and harder to keep. and this subtle excellence is aided by all the finer graces of humanity. it is a matter of common observation that, though often separated, fine taste and fine judgment go very much together, and especially that a man with gross want of taste, though he may act sensibly and correctly for a while, is yet apt to break out, sooner or later, into gross practical error. in metaphysics, probably both taste and judgment involve what is termed 'poise of mind,' that is the power of true passiveness--the faculty of 'waiting' till the stream of impressions, whether those of life or those of art have done all that they have to do, and cut their full type plainly upon the mind. the ill-judging and the untasteful are both over-eager; both move too quick and blur the image. in this way the union between a subtle sense of beauty and a subtle discretion in conduct is a natural one, because it rests on the common possession of a fine power, though, in matter of fact, that union may be often disturbed. a complex sea of forces and passions troubles men in life and action, which in the calmer region of art are hardly to be felt at all. and, therefore, the cultivation of a fine taste tends to promote the function of a fine judgment, which is a main help in the complex world of civilised existence. just so too the manner in which the more delicate parts of religion daily work in producing that 'moderation' which, upon the whole, and as a rule, is essential to long success, defining success even in its most narrow and mundane way, might be worked out in a hundred cases, though it would not suit these pages. many of the finer intellectual tastes have a similar restraining effect they prevent, or tend to prevent, a greedy voracity after the good things of life, which makes both men and nations in excessive haste to be rich and famous, often makes them do too much and do it ill, and so often leaves them at last without money and without respect. but there is no need to expand this further. the principle is plain that, though these better and higher graces of humanity are impediments and encumbrances in the early fighting period, yet that in the later era they are among the greatest helps and benefits, and that as soon as governments by discussion have become strong enough to secure a stable existence, and as soon as they have broken the fixed rule of old custom, and have awakened the dormant inventiveness of men, then, for the first time, almost every part of human nature begins to spring forward, and begins to contribute its quota even to the narrowest, even to 'verifiable' progress. and this is the true reason of all those panegyrics on liberty which are often so measured in expression but are in essence so true to life and nature. liberty is the strengthening and developing power--the light and heat of political nature; and when some 'caesarism' exhibits as it sometimes will an originality of mind, it is only because it has managed to make its own the products of past free times or neighbouring free countries; and even that originality is only brief and frail, and after a little while, when tested by a generation or two, in time of need it falls away. in a complete investigation of all the conditions of 'verifiable progress,' much else would have to be set out; for example, science has secrets of her own. nature does not wear her most useful lessons on her sleeve; she only yields her most productive secrets, those which yield the most wealth and the most 'fruit,' to those who have gone through a long process of preliminary abstraction. to make a person really understand the 'laws of motion' is not easy, and to solve even simple problems in abstract dynamics is to most people exceedingly hard. and yet it is on these out-of-the-way investigations, so to speak, that the art of navigation, all physical astronomy, and all the theory of physical movements at least depend. but no nation would beforehand have thought that in so curious a manner such great secrets were to be discovered. and many nations, therefore, which get on the wrong track, may be distanced--supposing there to be no communication by some nation not better than any of them which happens to stumble on the right track. if there were no 'bradshaw' and no one knew the time at which trains started, a man who caught the express would not be a wiser or a more business-like man than he who missed it, and yet he would arrive whole hours sooner at the capital both are going to. and unless i misread the matter, such was often the case with early knowledge. at any rate before a complete theory of 'verifiable progress' could be made, it would have to be settled whether this is so or not, and the conditions of the development of physical science would have to be fully stated; obviously you cannot explain the development of human comfort unless you know the way in which men learn and discover comfortable things. then again, for a complete discussion, whether of progress or degradation, a whole course of analysis is necessary as to the effect of natural agencies on man, and of change in those agencies. but upon these i cannot touch; the only way to solve these great problems is to take them separately. i only profess to explain what seem to me the political prerequisites of progress, and especially of early progress, i do this the rather because the subject is insufficiently examined, so that even if my views are found to be faulty, the discussion upon them may bring out others which are truer and better. [the end] +-----------------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | all greek words have been transliterated into english, and are | | contained within { } brackets. | +-----------------------------------------------------------------+ the cult of incompetence first edition november, . second edition july, . the cult of incompetence by emile faguet _of the french academy_ translated from the french by beatrice barstow with an introduction by thomas mackay new york: e. p. dutton & company contents. page introduction chapter i. the principles of forms of government ii. confusion of functions iii. the refuges of efficiency iv. the competent legislator v. laws under democracy vi. the incompetence of government vii. judicial incompetence viii. examples of incompetence ix. manners x. professional customs xi. attempted remedies xii. the dream index the cult of incompetence. introduction. though it may not have been possible in the following pages to reproduce the elegant and incisive style of a master of french prose, not even the inadequacies of a translation can obscure the force of his argument. the only introduction, therefore, that seems possible must take the form of a request to the reader to study m. faguet's criticism of modern democracy with the daily paper in his hand. he will then see, taking chapter by chapter, how in some aspects the phenomena of english democracy are identical with those described in the text, and how in others our english worship of incompetence, moral and technical, differs considerably from that which prevails in france. it might have been possible, as a part of the scheme of this volume, to note on each page, by way of illustration, instances from contemporary english practice, but an adequate execution of this plan would have overloaded the text, or even required an additional volume. such a volume, impartially worked out with instances drawn from the programme of all political parties, would be an interesting commentary on current political controversy, and it is to be hoped that m. faguet's suggestive pages will inspire some competent hand to undertake the task. if m. faguet had chosen to refer to england, he might, perhaps, have cited the constitution of this country, as it existed some seventy years ago, as an example of a "demophil aristocracy," raised to power by an "aristocracy-respecting democracy." it is not perhaps wise in political controversy to compromise our liberty of action in respect of the problems of the present time, by too deferential a reference to a golden age which probably, like lycurgus in the text, p. , never existed at all, but it has been often stated, and undoubtedly with a certain amount of truth, that the years between and were the only period in english history during which philosophical principles were allowed an important, we cannot say a paramount, authority over english legislation. the characteristic features of the period were a determination to abolish the privileges of the few, which, however, involved no desire to embark on the impossible and inequitable task of creating privileges for the many; a deliberate attempt to extirpate the servile dependence of the old poor law, and a definite abandonment of the plan of distributing economic advantages by eleemosynary state action. this policy was based on the conviction that personal liberty and freedom of private enterprise were the adequate, constructive influences of a progressive civilisation. too much importance has perhaps been attached to the relatively unimportant question of the freedom of international trade, for this was only part of a general policy of emancipation which had a much more far-reaching scope. rightly understood the political philosophy of that time, put forward by the competent statesmen who were then trusted by the democracy, proclaimed the principle of liberty and freedom of exchange as the true solvents of the economic problems of the day. this policy remained in force during the ministry of sir r. peel and lasted right down to the time of the great budgets of mr. gladstone. if we might venture, therefore, to add another to the definitions of montesquieu, we might say that the principle animating a liberal constitutional government was liberty, and that this involved a definite plan for enlarging the sphere of liberty as the organising principle of civil society. to what then are we to impute the decadence from this type into which parliamentary government seems now to have fallen? can we attribute this to neglect or to exaggeration of its animating principle, as suggested in the formula of montesquieu? it is a question which the reader may find leisure to investigate; we confine ourselves to marking what seem to be some of the stages of decay. when the forces of destructive radicalism had done their legitimate work, it seemed a time for rest and patience, for administration rather than for fresh legislation and for a pause during which the principles of liberty and free exchange might have been left to organise the equitable distribution of the inevitably increasing wealth of the country. the patience and the conviction which were needed to allow of such a development, rightly or wrongly, were not forthcoming, and politicians and parties have not been wanting to give effect to remedies hastily suggested to and adopted by the people. political leaders soon came to realise that recent enfranchisements had added a new electorate for whom philosophical principles had no charm. at a later date also, mr. gladstone, yielding to a powerful and not over-scrupulous political agitation, suddenly determined to attempt a great constitutional change in the relations between the united kingdom and ireland. whether the transference of the misgovernment of ireland from london to dublin would have had results as disastrous or as beneficial as disputants have asserted, may be matter for doubt, but the manner in which the proposal was made certainly had one unfortunate consequence. mr. gladstone's action struck a blow at the independence and self-respect, or as m. faguet terms it, the moral competence of our parliamentary representation from which it has never recovered. men were called on to abandon, in the course of a few hours, opinions which they had professed for a lifetime and this not as the result of conviction but on the pressure of party discipline. political feeling ran high. the "caucus" was called into more active operation. political parties began to invent programmes to capture the groundlings. the conservative party, relinquishing its useful function of critic, revived the old policy of eleemosynary doles, and, in an unlucky moment for its future, has encumbered itself with an advocacy of the policy of protection. for strangely enough the democracy, the bestower of power, though developing symptoms of fiscal tyranny and a hatred of liberty in other directions clings tenaciously to freedom of international trade--for the present at least--and it would seem that the electioneering caucus has, in this instance, failed to understand its own business. the doles of the new state-charity were to be given to meet contributions from the beneficiaries, but as the class which for one reason or another is ever in a destitute condition, could not or would not contribute, the only way in which the benevolent purpose of the agitation could be carried out was by bestowing the dole gratuitously. the flood gates, therefore, had to be opened wider, and we have been and still are exposed to a rush of philanthropic legislation which is gradually transferring all the responsibilities of life from the individual to the state. free trade for the moment remains, and it is supposed to be strongly entrenched in the convictions of the liberal party. its position, however, is obviously very precarious in view of the demands made by the militant trade unions. these, in their various spheres, claim a monopoly of employment for their members, to the exclusion of those who do not belong to their associations. logic has something, perhaps not much, to do with political action, and it is almost inconceivable that a party can go on for long holding these two contradictory opinions. which of them will be abandoned, the future only can tell. the result of all this is a growing disinclination on the part of the people to limit their responsibilities to their means of discharging them, the creation of a proletariate which in search of maintenance drifts along the line of least resistance, dependence on the government dole. in the end too it must bring about the impoverishment of the state, which is ever being called on to undertake new burdens; for the individual, thus released from obligation to discharge, is still left free to create responsibilities, for which it is now the business of the state to make provision. under such a system the ability to pay as well as the number of the solvent citizens must continuously decline. the proper reply to this legislation which we describe as predatory in the sense that we describe the benevolent habits of robin hood as predatory, cannot be made by the official opposition which was itself the first to step on the down grade, and which only waits the chances of party warfare to take its turn in providing _panem et circenses_ at the charge of the public exchequer. in this way, progress is brought to a standstill by the chronic unwillingness of the rate- and tax-payers to find the money. a truer policy, based on the voluntary action of citizens and capable of indefinite and continuous expansion, finds no support among politicians, for all political parties seem to be held in the grip of the moral and technical incompetence which m. faguet has so wittily described. the only reply to a government bent on such courses is that which above has been imputed--perhaps without sufficient justification--to the governments of the period - ; and that reply democracy, as at present advised, will allow no political party to make. there does not appear, therefore, to be much difference between the situation here and in france, and it is very interesting to notice how in various details there is a very close parallelism between events in this country and those which m. faguet has described. the position of our lord chancellor, who has been bitterly attacked by his own party, in respect of his appointment of magistrates, is very similar to that of m. barthou, quoted on p. . our judicial system has hitherto been considered free from political partisanship, but very recently and for the first time a minister in his place in parliament, has rightly or wrongly seen fit to call in question the impartiality of our judicial bench, and the suspicion, if, as appears to be the case, it is widely entertained by persons heated in political strife, will probably lead to appointments calculated to ensure reprisals. astute politicians do not commit themselves to an attack on a venerated institution, till they think they know that that institution is becoming unpopular with the followers who direct their policy. criminal verdicts also, especially on the eve of an election, are now made liable to revision by ministers scouring the gaols of the country in search of picturesque malefactors whom, with an accompaniment of much philanthropic speech, they proceed to set at liberty. even the first principles of equity, as ordinarily understood, seem to have lost their authority, when weighed in the balance against the vote of the majority. very recently the members of an honourable and useful profession represented to a minister that his extension of a scheme of more or less gratuitous relief to a class which hitherto had been able and willing to pay its way, was likely to deprive them of their livelihood. his reply, _inter alia_, contained the argument that the class in question was very numerous and had many votes, and that he doubted whether any one would venture to propose its exclusion except perhaps a member for a university; as a matter of fact some such proposal had been made by one of the university members whose constituents were affected by the proposal. the minister further declared that he did not think that such an amendment could obtain a seconder. the argument seems to impute to our national representatives a cynical disregard of equity, and a blind worship of numbers, which if true, is an instance of moral incompetence quite as remarkable as anything contained in m. faguet's narrative. if readers of this volume will take the trouble to annotate their copies with a record of the relevant incidents which meet them every day of their lives, they cannot fail to acknowledge how terribly inevitable is the rise of incompetence to political power. the tragedy is all the more dreadful, when we recognise, as we all must, the high character and ability of the statesmen and politicians who lie under the thrall of this compelling necessity. this systematic corruption of the best threatens to assume the proportions of a national disaster. it is the system, not the actors in it, which m. faguet analyses and invites us to deplore. t. mackay. chapter i. the principles of forms of government. the question has often been asked, what is the animating principle of different forms of government, for each, it is assumed, has its own principle. in other words, what is the general idea which inspires each political system? montesquieu, for instance, proved that the _principle_ of monarchy is _honour_, the principle of despotism _fear_, the principle of a republic _virtue_ or patriotism, and he added with much justice that governments decline and fall as often by carrying their principle to excess, as by neglecting it altogether. and this, though a paradox, is true. at first sight it may not be obvious how a despotism can fall by inspiring too much fear, or a constitutional monarchy by developing too highly the sentiment of honour, or a republic by having too much virtue. it is nevertheless true. to make too common a use of fear is to destroy its efficacy. as edgar quinet happily puts it: "if we want to make use of fear we must be certain that we can use it always." we cannot have too much honour, but when we can appeal to this sentiment only and when distinctions, decorations, orders, ribbons--in a word _honours_--are multiplied, inasmuch as we cannot increase such things indefinitely, those who have none become as discontented as those who, having some, want more. finally we cannot, of course, have too much virtue, and naturally here governments will fall not by exaggerating but by abandoning their guiding principle. yet is it not sometimes true that by demanding from citizens too great a devotion to their country, we end by exhausting human powers of endurance and sacrifice? this is what happened in the case of napoleon, who, perhaps unwittingly, required too much from france, for the building up of a 'greater france.' but that, some one will object, was not a republic! from the point of view of the sacrifices required from the citizen, it was a republic, similar to the roman republic and to the french republic of . all the talk was 'for the glory of our country,' 'heroism, heroism, nothing but heroism'! if too much is required of it, civic virtue can be exhausted. it is, then, very true that governments perish just as much from an excess as from a neglect of their appropriate principle. montesquieu without doubt borrowed his general idea from aristotle, who remarks not without humour, "those, who think that they have discovered the basis of good government, are apt to push the consequences of their new found principle too far. they do not remember that disproportion in such matters is fatal. they forget that a nose which varies slightly from the ideal line of beauty appropriate for noses, tending slightly towards becoming a hook or a snub, may still be of fair shape and not disagreeable to the eye, but if the excess be very great, all symmetry is lost, and the nose at last ceases to be a nose at all." this law of proportion holds good with regard to every form of government. * * * * * starting from these general ideas, i have often wondered what principle democrats have adopted for the form of government which they favour, and it has not required a great effort on my part to arrive at the conclusion that the principle in question is the worship and cultivation, or, briefly 'the cult' of incompetence or inefficiency. let us examine any well-managed and successful business firm or factory. every employee does the work he knows and does best, the skilled workman, the accountant, the manager and the secretary, each in his place. no one would dream of making the accountant change places with a commercial traveller or a mechanic. look too at the animal world. the higher we go in the scale of organic existence, the greater the division of labour, the more marked the specialisation of physiological function. one organ thinks, another acts, one digests, another breathes. now is there such a thing as an animal with only one organ, or rather is there any animal, consisting of only one organ, which breathes and thinks and digests all at the same time? yes, there is. it is called the amoeba, and the amoeba is the very lowest thing in the animal world, very inferior even to a vegetable. in the same way, without doubt, in a well constituted society, each organ has its definite function, that is to say, administration is carried on by those who have learnt how to administer, legislation and the amendment of laws by those who have learnt how to legislate, justice by those who have studied jurisprudence, and the functions of a country postman are not given to a paralytic. society should model itself on nature, whose plan is specialisation. "for," as aristotle says, "she is not niggardly, like the delphian smiths whose knives have to serve for many purposes, she makes each thing for a single purpose, and the best instrument is that which serves one and not many uses." elsewhere he says, "at carthage it is thought an honour to hold many offices, but a man only does one thing well. the legislator should see to this, and prevent the same man from being set to make shoes and play the flute." a well-constituted society, we may sum up, is one where every function is not confided to every one, where the crowd itself, the whole body social, is not told: "it is your business to govern, to administer, to make the laws, &c." a society, where things are so arranged, is an amoebic society. that society, therefore, stands highest in the scale, where the division of labour is greatest, where specialisation is most definite, and where the distribution of functions according to efficiency is most thoroughly carried out. * * * * * now democracies, far from sharing this view, are inclined to take the opposite view. at athens there was a great tribunal composed of men learned in, and competent to interpret, the law. the people could not tolerate such an institution, so laboured to destroy it and to usurp its functions. the crowd reasoned thus. "we can interpret and carry out laws, because we make them." the conclusion was right, but the minor premise was disputable. the retort can be made: "true, you can interpret and carry out laws because you make them, but perhaps you have no business to be making laws." be that as it may, the athenian people not only interpreted and applied its own laws, but it insisted on being paid for so doing. the result was that the poorest citizens sat judging all day long, as all others were unwilling to sacrifice their whole time for a payment of six drachmas. this plebeian tribunal continued for many years. its most celebrated feat was the judgment which condemned socrates to death. this was perhaps matter for regret, but the great principle, the sovereignty of incompetence, was vindicated. modern democracies seem to have adopted the same principle, in form they are essentially amoebic. a democracy, well-known to us all, has been evolved in the following manner. it began with this idea; king and people, democratic royalty, royal democracy. the people makes, the king carries out, the law; the people legislates, the king governs, retaining, however, a certain control over the law, for he can suspend the carrying out of a new law when he considers that it tends to obstruct the function of government. here then was a sort of specialisation of functions. the same person, or collective body of persons, did not both legislate and govern. this did not last long. the king was suppressed. democracy remained, but a certain amount of respect for efficiency remained too. the people, the masses, did not, every single man of them, claim the right to govern and to legislate directly. it did not even claim the right to nominate the legislature directly. it adopted indirect election, _à deux degrés_, that is, it nominated electors who in turn nominated the legislature. it thus left two aristocracies above itself, the first electors and the elected legislature. this was still far removed from democracy on the athenian model which did everything itself. this does not mean that much attention was paid to efficiency. the electors were not chosen because they were particularly fitted to elect a legislature, nor was the legislature itself elected with any reference to its legislative capacity. still there was a certain pretence of a desire for efficiency, a double pseudo-efficiency. the crowd, or rather the constitution, assumed that legislators elected by the delegates of the crowd were more competent to make laws than the crowd itself. this somewhat curious form of efficiency i have called _compétence par collation_, efficiency or competence conferred by this form of selection. there is absolutely nothing to show that so-and-so has the slightest legislative or juridical faculty, so i confer on him a certificate of efficiency by the confidence i repose in him when nominating him for the office, or rather i show my confidence in the electors and they confer a certificate of efficiency on those whom they nominate for the legislature. this, of course, is devoid of all common sense, but appearances, and even something more, are in its favour. it is not common sense for it involves something being made out of nothing, inefficiency producing efficiency and zero extracting 'one' out of itself. this form of selection, though it does not appeal to me under any circumstances, is legitimate enough when it is exercised by a competent body. a university can confer a degree upon a distinguished man because it can judge whether his degreeless condition is due to accident or not. it would, however, be highly ridiculous and paradoxical if the general public were to confer mathematical degrees. a degree of efficiency conferred by an inefficient body is contrary to common sense. there is, however, some plausibility and indeed a little more than plausibility in favour of this plan. degrees in literature and in dramatic art are conferred, given by 'collation,' by incompetent people, that is by the public. we can say to the public: "you know nothing of literary and dramatic art." it will retort: "true, i know nothing, but certain things move me and i confer the degree on those who evoke my emotions." in this it is not altogether wrong. in the same way the degree of doctor of political science is conferred by the people on those who stir its emotions and who express most forcibly its own passions. these doctors of political science are the empassioned representatives of its own passions. --in other words, the worst legislators!-- yes, very nearly so, but not quite. it is very useful that we should have an exponent of popular passion at the crest of the social wave, to tell us not indeed what the crowd is thinking, for the crowd never thinks, but what the crowd is feeling, in order that we may not cross it too violently or obey it too obsequiously. an engineer would call it the science of the strength of materials. a medium assures me that he had a conversation with louis xiv, who said to him: "universal suffrage is an excellent thing in a monarchy. it is a source of information. when it recommends a certain course of action it shows us that this is a thing which we must not do. if i could have consulted it over the revocation of the edict of nantes, it would have given me a clear mandate for that revocation and i should have known what to do, and that edict would not have been revoked. i acted as i did, because i was advised by ministers whom i considered experienced statesmen. had i been aware of the state of public opinion i should have known that france was tired of wars and new palaces and extravagance. but this was not an expression of passion and prejudice, but a cry of suffering. as far as passion and prejudice are concerned we must go right in the teeth of public opinion, and universal suffrage will tell you what that is. on the other hand we must pay heed, serious heed to every cry of pain, and here too universal suffrage will come to our aid. universal suffrage is necessary to a monarchy as a source of information." this, i am told, is louis xiv's present opinion on the subject. as far as legislation therefore is concerned, the attempt to secure competence by 'collation' is an absurdity. yet it is an inverted sort of competence useful for indicating the state of a nation's temper. from this it follows that this system is as mischievous in a republic as it would be wholesome in a monarchy. it is not therefore altogether bad. the democracy which we have in view, after having been governed by the representatives of its representatives for ten years, submitted for the next fifteen years to the rule of one representative and took no particular advantage therefrom. then for thirty years it adopted a scheme which aimed at a certain measure of efficiency. it assumed that the electors of the legislature ought not to be nominated, but marked out by their social position, that is their fortune. those who possessed so many drachmas were to be electors. what sort of a basis for efficiency is this? it is a basis but certainly a somewhat narrow one. it is a basis, first, because a man who owns a certain fortune has a greater interest than others in a sound management of public business, and self-interest opens and quickens the eye; and again a man who has money and does not lose it cannot be altogether a fool. on the other hand it is a narrow basis, because the possession of money is of itself no guarantee of political ability, and the system leads to the very questionable proposition that every rich man is a competent social reformer. it is, however, a sort of competence, but a competence very precariously established and on a very narrow basis. this system disappeared and our democracy, after a short interregnum, repeated its previous experiment and submitted for eighteen years to the rule of one delegate with no great cause to congratulate itself on the result. it then adopted democracy in a form almost pure and simple. i say almost, for the democratic system pure and simple involves the direct government of the people without any intervening representatives, by means of a continuous plebiscite. our democracy then set up and still maintains a democratic system almost pure and simple, that is to say, it established government of the nation by delegates whom it itself elected and by these delegates strictly and exclusively. this time we have reached an apotheosis of incompetence that is well nigh absolute. this, our present system, purports to be the rule of efficiency chosen by the arbitrary form of selection which has been described. just as the bishop in the story, addressing a haunch of venison, exclaimed: "i baptise thee carp," so the people says to its representatives: "i baptise you masters of law, i baptise you statesmen, i baptise you social reformers." we shall see later on that this baptism goes very much further than this. if the people were capable of judging of the legal and psychological knowledge possessed by those who present themselves for election, this form of selection need not be prohibitive of efficiency and might even be satisfactory; but in the first place, the electors are not capable of judging, and secondly, even if they were, nothing would be gained. nothing would be gained, because the people never places itself at this point of view. emphatically never! it looks at the qualifications of the candidate not from a scientific but from a moral point of view. --well that surely is something, and, in a way, a guarantee of efficiency. the legislators are not capable of making laws, it is true; but at least they are honest men. this guarantee of moral efficiency, some critic will say, gives me much satisfaction. please be careful, i reply, we should never think of giving the management of a railway station to the most honest man, but to an honest man who, besides, understood thoroughly railway administration. so we must put into our laws not only honest intentions, but just principles of law, politics, and society. secondly, if the candidates are considered from the point of view of their moral worth it is in a peculiar fashion. high morality is imputed to those who share the dominant passions of the people and who express themselves thereon more violently than others. ah! these are our honest men, it cries, and i do not say that the men of its choice are dishonest, i only say that by this criterion they are not infallibly marked out even as honest. --still, some one replies, they are probably disinterested, for they follow popular prejudices, and not their own particular, individual wishes. yes, that is just what the masses believe, while they forget that there is nothing easier than to simulate popular passion in order to win popular confidence and become a political personage. if disinterestedness is really so essential to the people, only those should be elected who oppose the popular will and who show thereby that they do not want to be elected. or better still only those who do not stand for election should be elected, since not to stand is the undeniable sign of disinterestedness. but this is never done. that which should always be done is never done. --but, some one will say, your public bodies which recruit their numbers by co-optation, academies and learned societies, do not elect their members in this way.-- quite so, and they are right. such bodies do not want their members to be disinterested but scientific. they have no reason to prefer an unwilling member to one who is eager to be elected. their point of view is entirely different. the people, which pretends to set store by high moral character, should exclude from power those who are ambitious of power, or at least those who covet it with a keenness that suggests other than disinterested motives. these considerations show us what the crowd understands by the moral worth of a man. the moral worth of a man consists, as far as the crowd is concerned, in his entertaining or pretending to entertain the same sentiments as itself, and it is just for this reason that the representatives of the multitude are excellent as documents for information, but detestable, or at least, useless, and therefore detestable, as legislators. montesquieu, who is seldom wrong, errs in my opinion when he says, "the people is well-fitted to choose its own magistrates." he, it is true, did not live under a democracy. for consider, how could the people be fitted to choose its own magistrates and legislators, when montesquieu himself, this time with ample justification, lays down as one of his principles that morals should correct climate, and that law should correct morals, and the people, as we know, only thinks of choosing as its delegates men who share, in every particular, its own manner of thinking? climate can be partially resisted by the people; but if the law should correct morals, legislators should be chosen who have taken up an attitude of reaction against current morality. it would be very curious if such a choice were ever made, and not only is it never made but the contrary invariably happens. to sum it all up, it is intellectual incompetence, nay moral incompetence which is sought instinctively in the people's choice. * * * * * if possible, it is more than this. the people favours incompetence, not only because it is no judge of intellectual competence and because it looks on moral competence from a wrong point of view, but because it desires before everything, as indeed is very natural, that its representatives should resemble itself. this it does for two reasons. first, as a matter of sentiment, the people desires, as we have seen, that its representatives should share its feelings and prejudices. these representatives can share its prejudices and yet not absolutely resemble it in morals, habits, manners and appearance; but naturally the people never feels so certain that a man shares its prejudices and is not merely pretending to do so, as when the man resembles it feature by feature. it is a sign and a guarantee. the people is instinctively impelled therefore to elect men of the same habits, manners and even education as itself, or shall we say of an education slightly superior, the education of a man who can talk, but only superior in a very slight degree. in addition to this sentimental reason, there is another, which is extremely important, for it goes to the very root of the democratic idea. what is the people's one desire, when once it has been stung by the democratic tarantula? it is that all men should be equal, and in consequence that all inequalities natural as well as artificial should disappear. it will not have artificial inequalities, nobility of birth, royal favours, inherited wealth, and so it is ready to abolish nobility, royalty, and inheritance. nor does it like natural inequalities, that is to say a man more intelligent, more active, more courageous, more skilful than his neighbours. it cannot destroy these inequalities, for they are natural, but it can neutralise them, strike them with impotence by excluding them from the employments under its control. democracy is thus led quite naturally, irresistibly one may say, to exclude the competent precisely because they are competent, or if the phrase pleases better and as the popular advocate would put it, not because they are competent but because they are unequal, or, as he would probably go on to say, if he wished to excuse such action, not because they are unequal, but because being unequal they are suspected of being opponents of equality. so it all comes to the same thing. this it is that made aristotle say that where merit is despised, there is democracy. he does not say so in so many words, but he wrote: "where merit is not esteemed before everything else, it is not possible to have a firmly established aristocracy," and that amounts to saying that where merit is not esteemed, we enter at once on a democratic regime and never escape from it. the chance, then, of efficiency coming to the front in this state of affairs is indeed deplorable. first and last, democracy--and it is natural enough--_wishes to do everything itself_, it is the enemy of all specialisation of functions, particularly it wishes to govern, without delegates or intermediaries. its ideal is direct government as it existed at athens, its ideal is "democracy," in the terminology of rousseau, who applied the word to direct government and to direct government only. forced by historical events and perhaps by necessity to govern by delegates, how could democracy still contrive to govern directly or nearly so, although continuing to govern through delegates? its first alternative is, perhaps, to impose on its delegates an imperative mandate. delegates under this condition become mere agents of the people. they attend the legislative assembly to register the will of the people just as they receive it, and the people in reality governs directly. this is what is meant by the imperative mandate. democracy has often considered it, but never with persistence. herein it shows good sense. it has a shrewd suspicion that the imperative mandate is never more than a snare and a delusion. representatives of the people meet and discuss, the interests of party become defined. henceforward they are the prey of the goddess opportunity, the greek {kairos}. then it happens one day that to vote according to their mandate would be very unfavourable to the interest of their party. they are therefore obliged to be faithless to their party by reason of their fidelity to their mandate, or disobedient to their mandate by reason of their obedience to their party; and in any case to have betrayed their mandate with this very praiseworthy and excellent intention is a thing for which they can take credit or at least obtain excuse with the electors--and on such a matter it will be very difficult to refute them. the imperative mandate is therefore a very clumsy instrument for work of a very delicate character. the democracy, instinctively, knows this very well, and sets no great store by the imperative mandate. what other alternative is there for it? something very much finer, the substance instead of the shadow. it can elect men who resemble it closely, who follow its sentiments closely, who are in fact so nearly identical with itself that they may be trusted to do surely, instinctively, almost mechanically that which it would itself do, if it were itself an immense legislative assembly. they would vote, without doubt, according to circumstances, but also as their electors would vote if they were governing directly. in this way democracy preserves its legislative power. it makes the law, and this is the only way it can make it. democracy, therefore, has the greatest inducement to elect representatives who are representative, who, in the first place, resemble it as closely as possible, who, in the second place, have no individuality of their own, who finally, having no fortune of their own, have no sort of independence. we deplore that democracy surrenders itself to politicians, but from its own point of view, a point of view which it cannot avoid taking up, it is absolutely right. what is a politician? he is a man who, in respect of his personal opinions, is a nullity, in respect of education, a mediocrity, he shares the general sentiments and passions of the crowd, his sole occupation is politics, and if that career were closed to him, he would die of starvation. he is precisely the thing of which the democracy has need. he will never be led away by his education to develop ideas of his own; and having no ideas of his own, he will not allow them to enter into conflict with his prejudices. his prejudices will be, at first by a feeble sort of conviction, afterwards by reason of his own interest, identical with those of the crowd; and lastly, his poverty and the impossibility of his getting a living outside of politics make it certain that he will never break out of the narrow circle where his political employers have confined him; his imperative mandate is the material necessity which obliges him to obey; his imperative mandate is his inability to quarrel with his bread and butter. democracy obviously has need of politicians, has need of nothing else but politicians, and has need indeed that there shall be in politics nothing else but politicians. its enemy, or rather the man whom democracy dreads because he means to govern and does not intend to allow the mob to govern through him, is the man who succeeds in getting elected for some constituency or other, either by the influence of his wealth or by the prestige of his talent and notoriety. such a man is not dependent on democracy. if a legislative assembly were entirely or by a majority composed of rich men, men of superior intelligence, men who had an interest in attending to the trades or professions in which they had succeeded rather than in playing at politics, they would vote according to their own ideas, and then--what would happen? why then democracy would be simply suppressed. it would no longer legislate and govern; there would be, to speak exactly, an aristocracy, not very permanently established perhaps, but still an aristocracy which would eliminate the influence of the people from public affairs. clearly it is almost impossible for the democracy, if it means to survive, to encourage efficiency, nay it is almost impossible for it to refrain from attempting to destroy efficiency. thus, we may sum up, only those are elected as the representatives of the people, who are its exact counterparts and constant dependents. chapter ii. confusion of functions. and what is the result of all this? the result, which is very logical, very just from the democratic point of view, and precisely that which the democracy desires and cannot do otherwise than desire, is that the national representatives do exactly what the people would wish them to do, and what the people would do itself if it undertook to govern directly itself. _the representative government wishes to do everything itself_, just as the people would like to do, if it were itself exercising the functions of government directly, just as it did in olden times on the pnyx at athens. montesquieu realised this fully, though naturally he had no experience of how the theory worked under a representative and parliamentary system. the principle of it all is at bottom the same, and only the change of a single phrase is needed to make the following quotation strictly applicable. "the principle of democracy," he says, "is perverted not only when it loses the spirit of equality, but still more _when it carries the spirit of equality to an extreme, and when every one wishes to be the equal of those whom he chooses to govern him_. for then the people, not being able to tolerate the authority which it has created, _wishes to do everything itself_, to deliberate for the senate, to act for the magistrates, and to usurp the functions of the judges. the people wishes to exclude the magistrates from their functions, and the magistrates naturally are no longer respected. the deliberations of the senate are allowed to have no weight, and senators naturally fall into contempt." let us translate the foregoing passage into the language of to-day. under democratic parliamentary government the representatives of the people are determined to do everything themselves. they must be equal to those whom they choose for their rulers. they cannot tolerate the authority which they have entrusted to the government. they must themselves govern in the place of the government, administer in the place of the executive staff, substitute their own authority for that of all the bench of judges, perform the duties of magistrates, and, in a word, throw off all regard and respect for persons and things. this is the true inwardness of the popular spirit, the will of the people which wishes to do everything itself, or what is the same thing, through its representatives, its faithful and servile creatures. from this point onwards efficiency is hunted and exterminated in every direction; just as it was excluded in the election of representatives, so the representatives laboriously and continuously exclude it from every sort of office and employment under the public service. the government, to begin our analysis of functional confusion at the top, ought to be watched and advised by the national representatives, but it ought to be independent of the national representatives, at least it ought not to be inextricably mixed up with them, in other words the national representatives ought not to govern. under democracy this is precisely what they want to do. they elect the government, a privilege which need not be denied them; but, "not being able to tolerate the authority which they have created," as soon as they have set it up, they put pressure on it and insist on governing continuously in its place. the assembly of national representatives is not a body which makes laws, but a body which, by a never ending string of questions and interruptions, _dictates_ from day to day to the government what it ought to do, that is to say, it is a body which governs. the country is governed, literally, by the chamber of deputies. _this is absolutely necessary_ if, as the true spirit of the system requires, the people is to be governed by no one but itself, if there is to be no will at work other than the will of the people, emanating from itself and bringing back a sort of harvest of executive acts. again, i repeat, this is absolutely necessary, in order that there shall be nothing, not even originating with the people, which, for a single moment and within the most narrowly defined limits, shall exercise the functions of sovereignty over the sovereign people. this is all very well, but government is an art and we assume that there is a science of government, and here we have the people governed by persons who have neither science nor art, and who are chosen precisely because they have not these qualifications and on the guarantee that they have none of them! again, in a democracy of this kind, if there exist, as a result of tradition or of some necessity arising out of foreign relations, an authority, independent for a certain term of years of the legislative assembly, which has no accounts to render to it and which cannot be questioned or constitutionally overthrown, that authority is so strange, and, if the phrase may pass, so monstrous an anomaly, that it dares not exercise its power, and dreads the scandal which it would raise by acting on its rights, and seems as it were paralysed with terror at the very thought of its own existence. and its attitude is right; for if it exercised its powers, or even lent itself to any appearance of so doing, there at once would be an act of will which was not an act of the popular will, a theory altogether contrary to the spirit of this system. for in this system the chief of the state can only be the nominal chief of the state. a will of his own would be an abuse of power, an idea of his own would be an encroachment, and a word of his own would be an act of high treason. it follows that, if the constitution has formally conferred these powers, the constitution on these points is a dead letter, because it contravenes an unwritten constitution of higher authority, viz., the inner inspiration of the political institution. one of these honorary chiefs of the state has said: "during all my term as president, i was constitutionally silent." this is not correct, for the constitution gave him leave to speak and even to act. at bottom it was true, for the constitution, in allowing him to act and speak, was acting unconstitutionally. in speaking he would have been constitutional, in holding his tongue he was _institutional_. he had been in fact _institutionally_ silent. he disobeyed the letter of the constitution, but he had admirably extracted its meaning from it, and understood and respected its spirit. under democracy, then, the national representatives govern as directly and as really as possible, dictating a policy to the executive and neutralising the supreme chief of the executive to whom it is not able to dictate. the national representatives are not content with governing, they wish to administer. now consider how it would be if the permanent officials of finance, justice and police, etc., depended solely on their parliamentary chiefs, who are ministers only because they are the creatures of the popular assembly, liable to instant and frequent dismissal; surely then, these officials, more permanent than their chiefs, would form an aristocracy, and would administer the state independently of the popular will and according to their own ideas. this, of course, must not be allowed to happen. there must not be any will but the people's will, no other power, however limited, but its own. this causes a dilemma which is sufficiently remarkable. here we seem to have contrary results from the same cause. since the popular assembly governs ministers, and frequently dismisses them, they are not able to govern their subordinates as did colbert and louvois, and these subordinates accordingly are very independent; so it comes about that the greater the authority which the popular assembly wields over ministers, the more it is likely to lose in its control over the subordinates of ministers, and in destroying one rival power it creates another. the dilemma, however, is avoided easily enough. no public official is appointed without receiving its _visa_, and it contrives even to elect the administrative officials. in the first place, the national representatives, in their corporate capacity, and in the central offices of government, watch most attentively the appointment of the permanent staff, and further each single member of the representative government in his province, in his department, in his _arrondissement_ picks and chooses the candidates and really appoints the permanent staff. this is, of course, necessary, if the national will is to be paramount here as well as elsewhere, and if the people is to secure servants of its own type, if it is "to choose its own magistrates," as montesquieu said. the people, then, chooses its servants through the intervention of its representatives; and consider, to return to our point, how absolutely necessary it is for it to secure representatives who are intellectually the exact image and imitation of itself. everything dovetails neatly together. here then we have the people interfering influentially in the appointment of the civil service. it continues "to do everything itself." complaints are raised on all sides of this confusion of politics with the business of administration, and indeed we hear continually that politics pervade everything. but what is the reason of this? it is the principle of the national sovereignty asserting itself. politics, political power, means the will of the majority of the nation, and is it not fitting that the will of the majority should make itself felt--indeed need we be surprised that it insists on making itself felt--in the details of public business, as administered by the permanent staff, as well as elsewhere? the ideal of democracy is that the people should elect its own rulers, or, if this is not its ideal, it is its idea, and this is what it does under a parliamentary democracy through the intervention of its representatives. this is all very well, but efficiency has been dealt another blow. for how is a candidate to recommend himself for an office to which appointment is made by the people and its representatives? by his merit? his chiefs and his fellow civil servants might be good judges of that; but the people or its representatives are much less capable of judging. "the people is admirably fitted to choose those to whom it has to entrust some part of its authority"; so montesquieu; we must now examine this saying a little more closely. what reasons does the philosopher give? "the people can only be guided by things of which it cannot be ignorant, and which fall, so to speak, within its own observation. it knows very well that a man has experience in war, and that he has had such and such successes; it is therefore quite capable of electing a general. it knows that a judge is industrious, that many of those who are litigants in his court go away satisfied, and that he has never been convicted of bribery, and this is enough to warrant it in appointing to any judicial office. it has been impressed by the magnificence or riches of some citizen, and this fits it for appointing an ædile. all these things are matters of fact about which the man in the street has better knowledge than the king in his palace." this passage, i confess, does not appear to be convincing. why should not a king in his palace know of the riches of a financier, the reputation of a judge or the success of a colonel just as well as the man in the street? there is no difficulty in getting information about such things. the people knows that such an one was always a good judge and such another always an excellent officer. therefore it is qualified to appoint a general or a high-court judge or other officer of the law. so be it, but for the selection of a young judge or a young and untried officer what special source of information has the people? i cannot find that it has any. in this very argument, montesquieu limits the competence of the people to the election of the great chiefs, and of the most exalted magistrates, and indeed further confines the popular prerogative in this matter to assigning an office and career to one who has already given proof of his capacity. but for putting the competent man for the first time in the place where he is wanted, how has the people any special instinct or information? montesquieu shows that the people can recognise ability when it has been proved, but he says nothing to show that it recognises readily nascent, unproved talent. the argument of montesquieu is not here conclusive. he has been led astray, it seems to me, by his desire to present his argument antithetically (using the term in its logical sense). what he really wished to prove was not so much the truth of the proposition that he was then advancing, but the falsity of quite another proposition. the question for him, the question which he had in his mind, was as follows: is the people capable of governing the state, of taking measures beforehand, and of understanding and solving the difficulties of home and foreign affairs? by no means. then is it fit to elect its own magistrates? well, it might do that. thus he had been led away by this antithesis so far as to say: able to govern?--certainly not! able to elect its own magistrates? admirably! the explanation of the whole paragraph which i have just quoted lies in the conclusion, which runs as follows: "all these things are matters of fact about which the man in the street has better knowledge than the king in his palace. _but_ can the people pursue a policy and know how to avail itself of the places, occasions, and times when action will be profitable? no! certainly not." the truth is that the people is a little better fitted to choose a magistrate than to undertake a policy for the gradual humbling of the house of austria. but not very much so, as it is only a little more difficult to humble the house of austria, than it is to discover the man who is able to do it. the masses are particularly incapable of making initial appointments and of giving promotion in the early stages of a career to those who deserve it. yet in a democracy this is what they are constantly doing. again, by what means has the candidate for civil service employment, who is favoured by the people and its representatives, earned their approval? by his merit, of which the people and its representatives are very bad judges? no! by what then? by his conformity to the general views of the people; that is, by the subserviency of his political opinions. the political opinions of a candidate for civil service employment are the only things which mark him out to the popular choice because they are the only subjects on which the people is a good judge. yes, but the subserviency of his political opinions may be combined with real merit. true, but this is a mere matter of chance. the people is not, perhaps, in this particular matter consciously hostile to efficiency, rather it is indifferent, or ignores the qualification altogether. indeed, there is no great compliment paid to efficiency in such transactions. here is what inevitably happens. the candidate for a permanent appointment who is not conscious of possessing any particular merit is not slow to realise that it is by his political opinions that he will succeed, and he naturally professes those which are wanted. the candidate who is conscious of merit, very often knowing very well what less meritorious competitors are about, and not wishing to be beaten, also professes the same useful opinions. there we have that "infection of evil," which m. renouvier has explained so admirably in his _science de la morale_. first, then, we see how most of the candidates chosen by the mandatories of the people are incapable; others who are chosen in spite of their capacity are men of indifferent character; and character, we must admit, in all or nearly all public careers is a necessary part of efficiency. there remains a small number of meritorious persons who have never identified themselves with current political opinions, and who have slipped into public employment, thanks to some brief moment of inattention on the part of the politicians. these intruders sometimes get on by the mere force of circumstances, but they never reach the highest posts which are always reserved, as indeed is proper and fitting, for those in whom the people has put its trust. this is how the people administers as well as governs through the intervention of the representative system, dictating to ministers the policy and the details of government. --i realise, some one here will object, that administrators are nominated by the people, but i do not see how the affairs of the country are actually administered by the people.-- well, i will tell you. in the first place, by nominating officials it is already far on the road to controlling them, for it infuses into the body of the permanent civil service the spirit of the people to the exclusion of every other source of inspiration, and effectually prevents the civil service from becoming an aristocracy as otherwise it has always a tendency to do. next, the people does not confine itself to electing its administrators, it watches and spies on them, keeps them in leading strings, and just as the popular representatives dictate to ministers the details of government, so also they dictate to administrators the details of administration. a _préfet_, a _procureur-général_, an engineer-in-chief under democratic rule is a much harassed man. he has to play his own hand against his ministerial chief and the deputies of his district. he ought to obey the minister, but he has also to obey the deputies of the district which he administers. in this connection curious points arise and situations not a little complicated. the _préfet_ owes obedience to the deputies and to the minister, and the minister obeys the deputies, and it might therefore have been supposed that there was only one will, the will which the _préfet_ obeyed. but what the minister has to obey is the general will of the popular representatives, and it is this will that he transmits for the allegiance of the _préfet_; but then the _préfet_ finds himself colliding against the individual wills of the deputies of his district. the result is what we may call conflicts of obedience which have extraordinary interest for the psychologist, but which are less agreeable for the _préfet_, the engineer-in-chief, or the _procureur-général_. we note then, in the first place, how everything concurs to make the representative of the popular will as incompetent as he is omnipotent. incompetent he undoubtedly is, as we have already seen, to start with, and _if he were not so already_, he would certainly become so by reason of the trade or rather of the miscellaneous assortment of trades which are thrust upon him. the surest way of making a man incompetent is to make him jack-of-all-trades, for then he will be master of none. in the next place, the representative of the popular will and spirit, besides his trade of legislator, has to cross-examine ministers and to dictate to them the details of their duty, that is to say, he has to busy himself in all home and foreign politics. he has also to administer, by choosing and watching administrators and by controlling and inspiring their actions. without saying anything of the small individual services which it is his interest to render to his constituents and which his constituents are by no means backward in demanding, he looks on himself as responsible for the conduct of things in general. he becomes a sort of universal foreman, not a man, but a man-orchestra, a busybody, so busy that he can apply himself to nothing. he cannot study, or think, or investigate, or, to speak accurately, acquire any sense at all. if he be efficient in some particular subject, when he enters on his public career, he becomes hopelessly inefficient in all subjects after a few years of public life, and then, void of all individuality, he remains nothing but a public man, that is, a man representing the popular will and never thinking, or able to think, of anything but how to make that will prevail. and, to press the point again, this is all that is wanted of him; for can you conceive a representative of the popular will, who had somehow preserved a measure of competence in financial or judicial administration, who would prefer, before other candidates, not a political partisan but a man of merit, knowledge and aptitude, and who would even approve in an administrator not acts of political partiality but acts that are just and in conformity with the interests of the state? why! such a man would be a detestable servant in the eyes of democracy. yes, and i have known such a man. he was not wanting in intelligence or wit and he was honest. a lawyer, he was naturally interested in politics. for local reasons he had failed to be elected as deputy or as senator. tired of fighting, he obtained a judicial appointment by the influence of his political friends. he became president of court. a case was brought before him where the accused, a person not perhaps of altogether blameless life, was clearly not guilty of any indictable offence. the accused, however, a former _préfet_, appointed by a government now become very unpopular, and known as a reactionary and an aristocrat, was pursued by the animosity of the whole democratic population of the town and province. the president, in the face of openly expressed hostility in court, acquitted him. in the evening the president remarked, not without a touch of humour: "there, that serves them right for not making me a senator!" in other words: "if they had accepted me as a politician, they would have made me a fool, or at least paralysed my efficiency. but they would not have it; so here i am, a man who knows the law and applies it. so much the worse for them!" "by making a man a slave zeus took from him half his soul." so homer. by making a man a politician, demos takes from him his whole soul, and in omitting to make him a politician, it is foolish enough to leave him his soul. this is why demos hates a permanent civil service. an irremovable magistrate or functionary is a man whom the constitution sets free from the grip of the populace. an irremovable official is a man enfranchised, a free man. demos does not love free men. this will explain why in every nation where it is paramount, democracy suspends from time to time the irremovable independent official element wherever it is found. the object is nominally to clarify and filter the _personnel_ of the official world; but really it is intended to teach the officials whom it spares, that their permanence is only very relative and that, like every one else, they have to reckon with the sovereignty of the people which will turn and rend them if they venture to be too independent. according to the constitution of there were irremovable senators in france. in the interest of good government, this was perhaps a sound arrangement. the irremovable senators, in the scheme of the constitution, were intended to be, and in fact were, political and administrative veterans from whose knowledge, efficiency and experience their colleagues were to profit. the plan, from this point of view, might have worked well if the irremovable senators had not been elected by their colleagues but had become so by right; for example every former president of the republic, every former president of the _cour de cassation_, every former president of the court of appeal, every admiral, every archbishop might _ex officio_ have been raised to the rank of senator for life. from the democratic point of view, however, it was regarded as a positive outrage that there should exist a representative of the people who had not to render account to the people, a representative of the people who had nothing to fear from the accidents of re-election, no risk of failing to secure re-election, in other words that a man should be elected for his supposed efficiency, in no sense representing the people but himself alone. permanent senators were abolished. obviously they constituted a political aristocracy, founded on the pretence of services rendered, and the senate which elected them also fell under the taint of aristocratic leanings since at that time it recruited its members by co-optation. this of course could not be tolerated. chapter iii. the refuges of efficiency. will efficiency then, you may well ask, when driven out of all public employment, find refuge somewhere? certainly it will. in private employments and in employments paid by public companies. barristers, solicitors, doctors, business men, manufacturers and authors are not paid by the state, nor are engineers, mechanics, railway employees; and so far from their efficiency being a bar to their employment, it is their most valuable asset. when a man consults his lawyer or his medical adviser he obviously has no interest in their politics, and when a railway company chooses an engineer, it enquires into his qualifications and ability and is quite indifferent as to whether his political views coincide with the general mentality of the people. it is for this reason, or at least partly for this reason, that democracy tries to nationalise all employment, as a step in the direction of the nationalisation of everything. for instance it can partly nationalise the medical profession by establishing appointments for doctors, at relief offices, schools, and _lycées_. it can also partly nationalise the legal profession by appointing state-paid professors of law. already the state has considerable control over this class of person, for most of them have relations in government employment, whom they do not wish to bring into bad odour by seeming hostile to the opinions of the majority. the state, however, wants to hold them in still tighter control by seizing every opportunity of nationalising and socialising them more completely. the state wants also to destroy all large associations, and to absorb their activities. the state purchase of a railway, for instance, is, in the first place, a means of exploiting the company; for there is always a hope that the state will be able to filch something out of the transaction; but its chief recommendation lies in the fact that it suppresses a whole army of the company's officials and employees, who were under no obligation to please the government, and who had no other interest but to do their work properly. the state will thus transform this free population into government employees, whose primary duty is to be docile and subservient. under the extreme form and under the complete form of this regime, that is to say under socialism, everyone will be a government official. consequently, say the socialist theorists, all the alleged drawbacks above mentioned will disappear. the state, the democracy, the dominant party, whatever you choose to call it, will no longer be obliged to select its servants, as you say it does, by reason of their subservience and their incompetence, because every citizen will be an official. thus too will disappear that dual social system, under which half the population lives on the state, while the other half is independent, and prides itself on its superiority in character, in intelligence and in efficiency. socialism solves the problem. i do not agree. under socialism, the electoral system, and, therefore, the party system will still exist. the citizens will choose the legislators, the legislators will choose the government, and the government will choose the directors of labour and the distributors of the means of subsistence. parties, that is, combinations of interests, will still exist, and each party will want to capture the legislature in order to secure the election, from its own number, of the directors of labour and the distributors of the means of subsistence. these directors and distributors will be the new aristocrats of socialism, and they will be expected to arrange "soft jobs" and ampler rations for the members of their own group or party. except that wealth and the last vestiges of liberty have been suppressed, nothing has been changed, and all the objections above mentioned still hold. there is no solution here. if it were a solution, then the socialist government could not long remain elective. it would have to reign by divine right, like the jesuits in paraguay. it would have to be a despotism, not only in its policy but in its origin, in fact a monarchy. no intelligent king has any inducement to choose incompetent men as his officials. his interest would lead him to do exactly the opposite. you will say that an intelligent king is a very rare, even an abnormal thing. i readily agree. except in a very few instances, which history records with amazement, a king has exactly the same reasons as the people for selecting as his favourites men who will not eclipse nor contradict him, and who consequently seldom turn out to be the best of citizens either in respect of intelligence or character. elective socialism and despotic socialism have the same faults as democracy as we understand the term. besides, in truth, the drift of democracy towards socialism is nothing but a reversion to despotism. if socialism were established, it would begin by being elective, and as every elective system lives and breathes and has its being in the party system, the dominant party would elect the legislature, consequently it would constitute the government and would extort from that government, simply because it has the power to extort it, every conceivable form of privilege. exploitation of the country by the majority would result, as in every country where elective government prevails. a socialist government therefore is primarily an oligarchy of directors of labour and distributors of subsistence. it is a very close oligarchy, for those beneath it are quite defenceless, levelled down to an equality of poverty and misery. it is a form of government very difficult to replace, for it holds in its hands the threads of such an intricate organisation that it must be protected against crude attempts to change it, and so it tends to be a permanent oligarchy. it would therefore concentrate very quickly round a leader, or at any rate, relegate to the second rank the national representatives and the electorate. such a course of events would be very similar to what occurred under the first empire in france, when the military caste eclipsed and domineered over everything. it became continuously necessary to the state, and though that necessity passed away, it was soon recalled. the caste then closed its ranks round the leader who gave it unity, and the strength of unity. * * * * * so under socialism, more slowly and perhaps after the lapse of a generation, the directors of labour and the distributors of food, peaceful janissaries of the new order, would form themselves into a caste, very close, very coherent, and (unlike legislators for whom an executive council can always be substituted), quite indispensable, and would close their ranks round a chief who would give them unity and the strength of unity. before we knew socialism, we used to say that democracy tended naturally to despotism. the situation seems somewhat changed, and we might now say that it tends to socialism: really nothing has changed. for in tending towards socialism it is towards despotism that it tends. socialism is not conscious of this, for it imagines that it is journeying towards equality, but out of these utopias of equality it is ever despotism that emerges. but this is a digression which refers to the future; let us return to the matter in hand. chapter iv. the competent legislator. democracy, in its modern form, encroaches first upon the executive and then upon the administrative authorities, and reduces them to subjection by means of its delegates, the legislators, whom it chooses in its own image, that is to say, because they are incompetent and governed by passion, just as in the words of montesquieu, though he perhaps contradicts himself a little: "the people is moved only by its passions." what ought then the character of the legislator to be? the very opposite, it seems to me, of the democratic legislator, for he ought to be well informed and entirely devoid of prejudice. he ought to be well informed, but his information should not consist only of book learning, although an extensive legal knowledge is of the greatest use, as it will prevent him from doing, as so often happens, the exact opposite of what he intends to do. he should also understand intimately the temperament and character of the people for whom he legislates. for a nation should only be given the laws and commandments that it can tolerate, as solon said: "i have given them the best laws that they could endure," and the god of israel said to the jews: "i have given you precepts which are not good," that is to say, they have only the goodness which your wickedness will tolerate. "this is the sponge," says montesquieu, "which wipes out all the difficulties that can be raised against the laws of moses." the legislator, then, ought to understand the temperament and genius of the people because he has to frame its laws. as the germans say, he ought to be an expert on the psychology of races. further, he ought to understand the temperament, peculiarities and character of the people, without sharing its temperament himself. for where the passions and inclinations are concerned, experience is not knowledge. on the contrary, experience prevents us from really knowing; and indeed one of the conditions of knowledge is absence of an experience which may be another word for bias. the ideal legislator, or indeed any legislator worthy of the name, ought to understand the general tendencies of his people, but he ought to be able to view them from a position of detachment and to be able to control them, because it is his business partly to satisfy and partly to combat these tendencies. _he has partly to satisfy them_, or at least, to consider them, because a law which outraged the national temperament would be like roland's mare, which had every conceivable good quality with this one serious defect, that she was dead, and born dead. suppose the romans had been given an international law decreeing respect for conquered peoples, it would have been a dead letter, and by a sort of contagion it would have led to the neglect of other laws. suppose the french were given a liberal law, a law prescribing respect for the individual rights of the man and the citizen. liberty, the object of such a law, is for the french, as baron joannès has remarked: "the right of each man to do what he likes and to prevent other men from doing what they like." in france such a law would never obtain any but a very grudging allegiance, and it would certainly lead to the neglect of other laws. the legislator ought therefore to understand the natural idiosyncrasies of his people in order to know how far he dare venture to oppose them. _partly he must combat them_, because law should be to a nation, or otherwise it is merely a police regulation, what the moral law is to an individual. law should be a restraint imposed continuously in the hope of future improvements. it should be a curb on dangerous passions and injurious desires. it should aid the warfare of enlightened selfishness against the selfishness of which all are ashamed. that is what montesquieu meant when he said that morals should correct climate, and laws should correct morals. the law, therefore, to a certain extent should correct national tendencies, it should be loved a little because it is felt to be just, feared a little because it is severe, hated a little because it is to a certain degree out of sympathy with the prevalent temper of the day, and respected because it is felt to be necessary. this is the law that the legislator has to frame, and therefore he ought to have expert knowledge of the genius of the people for whom he legislates. he must understand both those tendencies which will resist and those which will welcome him. he must know how far he can go unopposed and how much he can venture without forfeiting his authority. this is the principal and essential qualification for the legislator. the second, as we said before, is that he must be impartial. the very essence of the legislator is that he should have moderation, that virtue on which cicero set so high a value, which is so rare, if we look to its real meaning, _the perfect balance of soul and mind_. "it seems to me," said montesquieu: "_and i have written this book solely to prove it_, that the spirit of moderation is essential in a legislator, for political, as well as moral right, lies between two extremes." nothing is more difficult for a man than to control his passions, or more difficult for a legislator than to control the passions of the people of whom he forms a part, to say nothing of his own. "aristotle," says montesquieu, "wanted to gratify, first, his jealousy of plato and then his love for alexander. plato was horrified at the tyranny of the athenians. machiavel was full of his idol, the duke of valentinois. thomas more, who was wont to speak of what he had read rather than of what he had thought, wanted to govern every state upon the model of a greek city. harrington could think of nothing but an english republic, while hosts of writers thought confusion must reign wherever there was no monarchy. laws are always in contact with the passions and prejudices of the legislator, whether these are his alone, or common to him and to his people. sometimes they pass through and merely take colour from the prejudice of the day, sometimes they succumb to it and make it part of themselves." this is just the opposite of what should be. the legislator should be to the people what conscience is to the heart of the individual. he should understand its besetting passions in all their bearings and not be deceived by subterfuge or hypocrisy. sometimes he must attack them boldly, sometimes play off one against another, or favour one at the expense of another which is less influential, now yielding ground, now recovering it, but he must ever be skilful and impartial and never be intimidated, diverted from his purpose, nor deceived by his natural enemies. he should be, so to speak, more conscientious than conscience itself, because he must never forget that he has to obey to-morrow the law which he makes to-day--_semel jussit semper paruit_. he must, therefore, be absolutely disinterested, a thing most difficult for him, but for which conscience requires no effort. not only must he be without passion, but he must have trained himself to be impervious to passion, which is much more. we must conceive of him as a conscience that has risen from the ashes of passion. as rousseau said, "to discover the perfect ruler for human society we must find a superior intelligence who has seen all the passions of man but has experienced none of them, who has had no sort of relations with our nature but who knows it to the core, whose happiness is not dependent on us, but who wishes to promote our welfare, in a word, one who aims at a distant renown, in a remote future, and who is content to labour in one age and to enjoy in another." this is why the ingenious greeks imagined certain legislators going into exile to some remote and unknown retreat, as soon as they had made the people adopt and swear obedience to their laws until their return. it may have been to bind the citizens by this oath, but is it not equally probable that they wished to escape from the laws which they themselves had made? possibly they felt that they could make them all the stricter with the prospect of being able to evade obedience of them by flight. proudhon said: "i dream of a republic so liberal that in it i shall be guillotined as a reactionary." lycurgus was perhaps like proudhon, in that he founded so severe a republic that he knew he could not live under it and resolved to leave it as soon as it was established. solon and sylla remained in the states to which they had given laws; we must therefore place them higher than lycurgus who has perhaps this excuse for himself that in all probability he never existed at all. but the legend remains to show that the legislator should be so superior to his own passions and to the passions of his people, that, as legislator, he should make laws before which, as a man, he should stand in awe. this moderation, in the sense in which we use the term, has sometimes led the legislator to suggest or insinuate laws rather than impose them. this is not always possible, but it is so occasionally. montesquieu tells us the following of st. louis: "seeing the manifold abuses of justice in his time he endeavoured to make them unpopular. he made many regulations for the courts in his own domain, and in those of his barons, and he was so successful, that only a short time after his death his methods were adopted in the courts by many of his nobles. thus this prince attained his object, although his regulations were not promulgated as a general law for the whole kingdom, but merely as an example which any one might follow in his own interest. he got rid of an evil by making patent the better way. when men saw in his courts and in those of his nobles more reasonable and natural forms of procedure, more conformable to religion and morality, more favourable to public tranquillity and to the security of persons and property, they adopted the substance and abandoned the shadow. _to suggest where you cannot compel, to guide where you cannot demand, that is the supreme form of skill._" montesquieu adds with some optimism though no doubt the idea is encouraging: "reason has a natural empire, we resist it, but it triumphs over our resistance; we persist in error for a time but we always have to return to it." the instance above quoted is very remote, and can hardly be applied to anything in our day. but consider, for instance, the law of sunday observance which has been revived from the ecclesiastical law. it was a mistake to include it in the code because it was antagonistic to many french customs, and, in many ways, to the national temperament. the result is what might have been expected, namely, that it has only been carried out in rare instances, and with an infinity of trouble. it might have been made the subject of an edict without being included in the code. the state might have given a holiday on sunday to all its officials, employees and workmen. it might have been made quite clear simply by a circular from the minister of justice that a workman would not be punished for breach of contract by refusing to work on a sunday. the law of a weekly day of rest would then have existed, without being formally promulgated, and would have been limited precisely where it should be, by agreement between masters and men who would submit to working on sundays when they saw that it was necessary and inevitable. moreover this law would be strong enough to modify without destroying the ancient customs of the people. here is another instance which occurs within the law laid down by the code, where the legislator makes use of a method of suggestion and recommendation. early in the nineteenth century the legislator considered that it was seemly for a husband who surprised his wife in adultery to kill both her and her accomplice. the sentiment is perhaps questionable, but at all events, it was current. was it given legal sanction? no, not precisely. it is inserted in the law in the form of an insinuation, a discreet recommendation and affectionate encouragement. the legislator wrote these words: "in _flagrante delicto_ murder is excusable." i am not approving the sentiment, but only this manner of indicating rather than enforcing the law and what is thought to be a wholesome practice, and in other instances i should think it excellent. finally, one of the essential qualities of the legislator is to show discretion in changing existing laws, and for this purpose he should be immune from the passions of men or at all events complete master of those which beset him. for law has no real authority unless it is ancient. where a law is merely a custom which has become law, it is invested with considerable authority from the first, because it gains strength by the antiquity of the original custom. when on the other hand a law is not an old custom but runs counter to custom, then, before it can have any authority, it must grow old and become a custom itself. in both cases it is on its antiquity that the law must depend for its strength. the law is like a tree, at first it is a tender sapling, then it grows up, its bark hardens, and its roots go deep into the ground and cling to the rock. we ought to consider carefully before we venture to replace the forest tree by the young sapling. "most legislators," said usbek to rhédi,[a] "have been men of limited abilities, owing their position to a stroke of fortune, and consulting nothing but their own whims and prejudices. they have often abolished established laws quite unnecessarily, and plunged nations into the chaos that is inseparable from change. it is true that, owing to some odd chance arising out of the nature rather than out of the intelligence of mankind, it is sometimes necessary to alter laws, but the case is very rare and when it does arise it should be handled with a reverent touch. when it is a question of changing the law, much ceremony should be observed, and many precautions taken, in order that the people may be naturally persuaded that laws are sacred things, and that many formalities must precede any attempt to alter them." in this passage, as so often elsewhere, montesquieu is quite aristotelian, for aristotle wrote: "it is evident that at times certain laws must be changed, but this requires great circumspection for, when there is little to be gained thereby, inasmuch as it is dangerous that citizens should be accustomed to find it easy to change the law, it is better to leave a few errors in our magisterial and legislative arrangements than to accustom the people to constant change. the disadvantage of having constant changes in the law is greater than any risk that we run of contracting a habit of disobedience to the law." for the law assuredly will be disobeyed, if we regard it as ephemeral, unstable, and always on the point of being changed. some knowledge of the laws of the most important nations, a profound knowledge of the temperament, character, sentiments, passions, opinions, prejudices and customs of the nation to which he belongs, moderation of heart and mind, judgment, impartiality, coolness, nay even a measure of stolidity, these are the attributes of the ideal legislator. rather they are the necessary qualifications of every man who purposes to frame a good law; they are, indeed, the elementary attributes of a legislator. we have seen that it is the very opposite quality that democracy likes and expects of its legislators. it selects incompetent and almost invariably ignorant men, i have explained why; and its nominees are of a double distilled incompetence in that their passions would certainly neutralise their efficiency if they possessed any. further we have to observe this curious fact. so entirely does democracy choose its legislators, because they are dominated by passion, and not in spite of the fact, chooses them indeed precisely for the reasons for which it ought to reject them, that any moderate, clear-headed, practical man who wants to be elected and make use of his powers, has to start by dissembling his moderation, and by making a noisy display of factious violence. if he wants to be nominated to a post where it will be his business to defend and guarantee public security, he has to begin by advocating civil war: to become a peacemaker he must first pose as a rebel. every popular favourite passes through these two phases, and has to complete one stage before he starts on the next. is it not better, you will ask, that a man's whole career should be spent in defence of law and order rather than the latter part of it? not at all, because you cannot exercise any influence as a friend of law and order unless you have begun as an anarchist. these changes of opinion occur so frequently that they merely raise a smile. they have, however, this drawback, that the friend of law and order, with a seditious past, never has an undisputed authority, and he spends half his time explaining the reasons for his defection, and this is a sore let and hindrance to his subsequent career. the people always elects men swayed by real or simulated passion. these will either always remain in a state of frenzied excitement, and they are the great majority, or they will become moderate men, largely disqualified and handicapped, as we have above shown, for their new career. the vast majority of these sentimentalists rush into politics instead of studying them with deliberation, judgment and wisdom. the canons of good government as above set out are entirely subverted. the law does not control and restrain the passions of the populace. legislation becomes little more than an expression of their frenzy, a series of party measures levelled by one faction against the other. the introduction of a bill is a challenge; the passing of an act is a victory; definitions which at once damn the legislator, and convict the system. [a] characters in montesquieu's _lettres persanes_. letter cxxix. chapter v. laws under democracy. the truth of my contention is proved by the fact that nowadays all our laws are emergency laws, a thing that no law should ever be. montesquieu advised people to be very chary and to think twice before they destroyed old laws or pulled down an old house to run up a tent, but his advice is completely ignored. new laws are made for every change in the weather, for every little daily incident in politics. we are getting used to this hand-to-mouth legislation. like the barbarian warrior, of whom demosthenes tells us, who always protected that portion of his person which had just received a blow, holding his shield up to his shoulder, when his shoulder had been struck, down again to his thigh when the blow fell there, the dominant faction only makes laws to protect itself against an adversary who is, or is thought to be, already in the field, or it introduces a hurried, ill-digested reform under the pressure of an alleged scandal. if an aspirant to the tyranny, as they used to say in athens, is nominated deputy in too many constituencies, instantly a law is passed prohibiting multiple candidatures. for the same reason, for fear of the same man, _scrutin de liste_ is hurriedly replaced by _scrutin d'arrondissement_.[b] if an accused woman is supposed to have been ill-treated at her examination, taken too abruptly before the interrogatory of the president, or if the counts are ineptly set out by the public prosecutor, instantly the whole of the criminal procedure is radically reformed. it is the same everywhere. the legislative workshops turn out only "the latest novelties" of the season. or perhaps a newspaper would be a still better simile. first there is the 'interpellation,'[c] once at least every day; that corresponds to the leading article. then there are questions for ministers on this, that and the other trivial occurrence; that is the serial or short story. then there is a bill brought in about something that happened the night before, that is the special article. then some deputy assaults his neighbour, this is the general news column. you could not have a more faithful representation of the country. everything that happens in the morning is dealt with in the evening as it might be in the village pot-house. the legislative chamber is an exaggerated reflection of the gossiping public. now it ought not to be a copy of the country, it ought to be its soul and brain. but when a national representative assembly represents only the passions of the populace it cannot be otherwise than what it is. in other words modern democracy _is not governed by laws_ but by decrees, for emergency laws are no better than decrees. a law is an ancient heritage, consecrated by long usage, which men obey without stopping to think whether it be law or custom. it forms part of a coherent, harmonious and logical whole. a law improvised for an emergency is merely a decree. this is one of the things that aristotle saw better than any one. he comments frequently upon the essential and fundamental distinction between the two, and explains how it is as dangerous to misunderstand as to ignore it. i quote the passage in which he brings this out most forcibly: "a fifth form of democracy is that in which not the law but the multitude has the supreme power, and supersedes the law by its decrees. this is a state of affairs brought about by the demagogues. for in democracies which are subject to the law, the best citizens hold the first place and there are no demagogues; but where the laws are not supreme, there demagogues spring up. for the people becomes a monarch and is many in one; and the many have the power in their hands, not as individuals but collectively.... and the people, who is now a monarch, and no longer under the control of law, seeks to exercise monarchical sway, and grows into a despot; the flatterer is held in honour; this sort of democracy being relatively to other democracies what tyranny is to other forms of monarchy. "the spirit of both is the same, and they alike exercise a despotic rule over the better citizens. the decrees of the demos correspond to the edicts of the tyrant, and the demagogue is to the one what the flatterer is to the other. both have great power--the flatterer with the tyrant, the demagogue with democracies of the kind which we are describing. the demagogues make the decrees of the people override the laws, and refer all things to the popular assembly. and therefore they grow great, because the people has all things in its hands and they hold in their hands the votes of the people, who is too ready to listen to them. such a democracy is fairly open to the objection that it is not a constitution at all; for _where the laws have no authority there is no constitution_. the law ought to be supreme over all. so that if democracy be a real form of government, _the sort of constitution in which all things are regulated by decrees is clearly not a democracy in the true sense of the word_, for decrees relate only to particulars." this distinction between true law, that is to say, venerable law, framed to endure, part of a co-ordinate scheme of legislation, and an emergency law which is merely a decree like the wishes of a tyrant, constitutes the whole difference, if we could realise it, between the sociologists of antiquity and those of to-day. by the term law, the ancient and the modern sociologists mean two different things and this is the reason for so many misunderstandings. when he speaks of law, the modern sociologist means the expression of the general will at such and such a date, for instance. the ancient sociologist would consider that the expression of the general will in the second year of the rd olympiad was not law at all, but a decree. a law to him would be a paragraph of the legislation of solon, lycurgus or charondas. whenever in a greek or roman political treatise we meet the expression--"a state governed by laws," the only way to translate it is--"a state governed by a very ancient and immutable legislation." this gives the true meaning to the famous personification of laws in the phædo, which would be quite meaningless if the greeks had understood what we do by the term. are laws the expression of the general will of the people? if so why should socrates have respected them, he who despised the people to the day he was condemned? it would be absurd. these laws which socrates respected were not the decrees of the people contemporary with socrates; they were the ancient gods of the city, which had protected it from the earliest days. these laws may err in that they seemed to sanction the verdict that condemned socrates to death, but they were honourable, venerable and inviolate, because they had been the guardians of the city for centuries, and guardians of socrates himself until the day when they were misapplied against him. a "constitution," therefore, to adopt aristotle's terminology, is a state which obeys laws, that is to say, laws framed by its ancestors. it is, then, an aristocracy, for it is even more aristocratic to obey our ancestors themselves by obeying the thoughts which they embedded in legislation, five centuries ago, than to obey the inheritors of their tradition, the aristocrats of to-day. for aristocrats of to-day belong only partly to tradition, in that they live in the present. whereas a fifteenth century law belongs to the fifteenth century and to no other period. to obey law as understood by the ancient sociologists, did not mean obeying scipio who has just passed us on the _via sacra_. it meant to obey his grandfather's great grandfather! all this is ultra-aristocratic. precisely! _law is an aristocratic thing;_ only _the emergency law_, the _decree_, is democratic. for this reason montesquieu always speaks of a monarchy as being limited, and, at the same time, maintained by its law. what did this mean in his day, when there was no "expression of the general will" to limit monarchy, and when royalty possessed legislative power, and could at will make and remake laws? it could only mean one thing, namely, that montesquieu's conception of law was the same as that of the ancient sociologists,--law far older than his time, "fundamental laws" as he calls them, of the ancient monarchy, which still bind and ought so to bind the monarch, whose rule without them would be despotism or anarchy. law is essentially aristocratic. it ordains that rulers should govern the people, and that the dead should govern the rulers. the very essence of aristocracy is the rule of those who have lived over those who live, for the benefit of those who shall live hereafter. aristocracy, properly so called, is an aristocracy in the flesh. law is a spiritual aristocracy. aristocracy, as represented by the aristocrats of to-day, only represents the dead by tradition, inheritance, education, physiological heredity of temperament and characteristics. law does not represent the dead, it is the dead themselves, it is their very thought perpetuated in immutable script. a nation is aristocratic both in form and spirit which preserves its old aristocracy and maintains its vitality by careful infusions of new blood. still more is that nation aristocratic which maintains its old legislation inviolate, adding to it, reverently and discreetly, new laws which combine something of the modern spirit with the spirit of the old. _homines novi, novæ res. homo novus_ means the man without ancestors who is worthy to be added to the ranks of the nobly born. _novæ res_ are things without antecedents, nay revolution itself. _novæ res_ should only be introduced partially gradually, insensibly and progressively into ancient things, as "new men" into the community of the old nobility. law is more aristocratic than aristocracy itself, hence democracy is the natural enemy of laws and can only tolerate decrees. our examination of modern democracy has brought us to the following conclusions. the representation of the country is reserved for the incompetent and also for those biassed by passion, who are doubly incompetent. the representatives of the people want to do everything themselves. they do everything badly and infect the government and the administration with their passion and incompetence. [b] see _france_, by j. e. c. bodley, , pp. , . under _scrutin de liste_ "the department is the electoral unit, each having its complement of deputies allotted to it in proportion to its population, and each elector having as many votes as there are seats ascribed to his department, without, however, the power to cumulate." _scrutin d'arrondissement_ is election by single-member constituencies. the _arrondissement_ is the electoral unit. [c] this is a question put to a minister by a deputy. "the effect ... is somewhat similar to a motion to adjourn the house in the english parliament." bodley, p. . chapter vi. the incompetence of government. this is not all. the law of incompetence spreads still further, either by some process of logical necessity or by a sort of contagion. it has often been made the subject of merriment, for, like all tragedy, when we regard it with good humour the matter has its comic side, that it is very rare for any high office to be given to a man who is competent for the post. generally the minister of education is a lawyer; the minister of commerce, an author; the war minister, a doctor; the minister for the navy, a journalist. beaumarchais' epigram "the post required a mathematician--it was given to a dancing master!" strikes the keynote much more of a democracy than of an absolute monarchy. the matter is so generally recognised that it has a sort of retroactive effect upon the historical ideas of the masses. three frenchmen out of every four are convinced that carnot was a civilian, and the statement has often appeared in print. why? because it is inconceivable that under a democracy the war minister could possibly be a soldier, or, that the members of the convention could possibly have given the war office to a soldier. this appeared too paradoxical to be true. at first sight this extraordinary method of making incompetent men into ministers seems merely a joke, merely the subtle and entertaining vagaries of the goddess incompetence. partly it is so but not entirely. the man whose business it is to appoint ministers has to divide the choicest plums of office among the various groups of the majority which supports him. as all of these groups do not contain specialists, the highest offices are disposed of on political grounds, and not on grounds of professional aptitude. i have shown what the result is; the only ministerial appointment which is made in a rational manner is that which the president of the council reserves for himself, and even in this case in order to conciliate some important political personage he very often gives it up and takes some post for which he is not so well suited. see what follows: each department is directed by an incompetent man, who, if he be conscientious, sets himself to learn the work in which he ought to be a fully trained expert, or, if he be not conscientious, and be pressed for time, as he always is, he directs his department according to his general political theories and not according to practical common sense--a double distillation of incompetence. we know the kind of speech a new minister of agriculture makes to his staff. he harangues them on the principles of the revolution of . moreover, in a highly centralised country, the minister does everything in his own department. he has to do everything under the pressure, it is true, of the national representatives; but still his is the supreme authority. it is easy to see what sort of decisions he will make. they are often very little supported by law, and sometimes are even contrary to law, and then they remain a dead letter from the first. ministerial circulars often have a remarkable character for illegality. in that case they fall and are forgotten, but not always before they have introduced a vast amount of trouble throughout the entire administration. as to appointments, they are made, as i have said, by political influence, and even when they are flagrantly improper and corrupt, there is no chance of their being corrected by the competence of a minister, who, holding enlightened views on the business and subordinates of his office, is able to put his foot down and say "no! this will not do, we must draw the line somewhere." chapter vii. judicial incompetence. here we find incompetence spreading its influence by the logical necessity of the case. there are other quarters in which it grows by a sort of contagion. have you ever noticed that the _ancien régime_, in spite of grievous shortcomings, by a sort of historical tradition, maintained a certain respect for efficiency in its different forms? for instance in matters of jurisdiction, there were seignorial, ecclesiastical and military courts. these were not founded as the result of argument and profound consideration, but by the natural course of events, by history itself, and they were maintained and approved by a monarchy which was verging on despotism. seignorial jurisdiction, without much rational justification, was none the less of considerable utility; it bound, or was capable of binding, the noble to his land, it prevented him from losing sight of his vassals, and his vassals from losing sight of him, and was in fact a conservative force in the aristocratic constitution of the kingdom. i submit that if this jurisdiction had been properly defined, limited and modified, which was never done, it would have been consonant with the law of competence. there are various local matters which come quite properly within the province of the noble, who in those days took the place of the magistrate. all that was wanted was that such matters should have been defined with precision and that in every case appeal should have been allowed. ecclesiastical jurisdiction was perfectly reasonable, as offences committed by ecclesiastics have a special character of which ecclesiastics alone can judge. this seems strange to modern ideas, although nowadays there are commercial courts and conciliation boards, because litigation between men of business, between workmen and women workers, and between employers and employed, can only be decided by men who have technical knowledge of the subject in dispute. appeal, moreover, to a higher court is always allowed. finally, in the old days there used to be military jurisdiction for precisely the same reason. all these exceptional jurisdictions are objects of the liveliest apprehension to democracy, because they infringe the rule of uniformity, which is the image and often the caricature of equality, and also because they are a stronghold of efficiency. democracy of course demolished aristocratic courts together with the aristocracy itself, and ecclesiastical courts together with the church when it ceased to be an estate of the realm. any special jurisdictions which still remain are looked upon as instruments of aristocracy; courts-martial are held in abhorrence because they have ideas of their own in respect of military honour and duty, and military offences. therein lies their efficiency, a thing absolutely necessary, if we are to maintain military spirit and discipline in a strong army. the private soldier or officer, who is only judged and punished as a civilian, will not be well judged nor adequately punished, considering the special duties and services which are required of the army. this is a question of moral as well as technical efficiency and to this the democracy pays no heed, because it is convinced that no special efficiency is necessary and that common sense is all that is required. common sense, however, is like wit; it is useful in every walk of life, but is not sufficient in any one of them. this is just what democracy cannot or will not understand. it makes just as great a mistake in its civil and criminal jurisdiction, though it has, up to now, so far departed from its principles as to appoint qualified jurists to civil judgeships. no one denies that this body of men is efficient. those who act as judges know their law. there is, however, as i have often had occasion to point out, a moral as well as a technical efficiency, and in limiting the independence that is essential to moral efficiency, democracy neutralises the technical efficiency of its servants. let me explain my meaning further. formerly the magistracy was a recognised and autonomous branch of the public service, and as a result, save as it was affected by revolution and in normal times by the fear of revolution, enjoyed an absolute independence. this gave, or rather preserved intact, its moral efficiency. for moral efficiency consists in an ability to act according to the dictates of conscience, and is equivalent to a sort of moral independence. now, the magistrates form a department of the administration and are a body of officials. the state appoints, promotes or refuses to promote and pays them. in short the state has them at its mercy, just as military officers are controlled by the war office, or tax-collectors by the treasury. hence they are deprived of their independence and moral efficiency, for they are always tempted to give judgment as the government would wish. there is, it is true, a guarantee for their independence in the permanence of their appointments, but this only applies to those who have reached the summit of their profession, or are on the point of retiring, or have no further interest in promotion. the young magistrate who wants to get on, a perfectly legitimate ambition, is by no means independent, for if he does not give satisfaction, he may enjoy a peculiar kind of permanence, the permanence of standing still at the starting point. the only independent judges, to whom justice is the sole interest, are either those who have served for forty years or the president of the _cour de cassation_. i may add also the man of independent means who is indifferent to promotion and content to spend all his time at the place of his first appointment. he is exactly like the magistrates in old days, but he and his kind get rarer every year. at best, moreover, this permanence, of which so much is thought, is an illusory guarantee, for it is often suspended by one government or another, and the magistrates are constantly at the mercy of political crises. their moral efficiency is indeed sorely tried. i affirm, therefore, that this diminution of moral efficiency affects technical efficiency, because magistrates dare not insist on technical exactitude when cases arise between the state and individuals, or between those who are protected by government and those who are not. though cases in which the state is a party do not occur very often, those in which friends of the government are involved are of daily occurrence in a country where government is a faction waging incessant warfare against all other factions. it has been said with much reason that parliamentary government on a basis of universal suffrage is legalised and continuous civil war. it is usually a bloodless civil war, but its weapons are insults, provocations, calumnies, personalities, libel actions. these go on from one year's end to the other. in a country where such a state of affairs is prevalent, the magistracy ought to be absolutely independent in order to be impartial. yet it is precisely in a country like this that the magistracy, not being independent and autonomous, is obliged to avoid offending the party in office which, moreover, is extremely exacting, for it lives in constant fear that it may be turned out of power. --is there nothing to be done? would you advocate a return to the practice of purchasing judicial appointments?-- in the first place, this would not be anything so very terrible, and secondly, it might be quite possible to secure all the advantages of purchase without its actual practice. i can show you that it is not so very terrible, for the case is parallel with that of the exceptional jurisdictions, the mention of which filled you with horror till you remembered the commercial courts and the councils of experts, all excellent institutions. we are appalled at the idea of a magistrate purchasing his office, and yet we employ advocates and solicitors and other legal officials and trust them with our most precious interests, yet they have, many of them, either bought or inherited their practice. under a system of purchase, we should be judged by lawyers of whom we required more extensive legal knowledge than is at present required of the profession. we should be judged in fact by solicitors and advocates of a superior order. there is nothing very alarming about that. montesquieu was in favour of a system of purchase. voltaire opposed it strongly. they were both right and were indeed agreed on general principles. montesquieu says: "venality,--the purchase system,--is a good thing under a monarchical form of government, because work which would not be done from mere civic virtue is then undertaken as a family business. each man's duty is laid down for him, and the orders of the state are given greater permanence. suidas says very aptly of anastasius that he turned the empire into an aristocracy by selling magisterial offices." voltaire replies: "is it as a matter of civic virtue that in england a judge of the king's bench accepts his appointment?" (it is either a matter of civic virtue or of profit and interest, and if it is not profit, it certainly must require considerable civic virtue.) "what! can we not find men in france willing to judge if we bestow their appointments upon them gratuitously?" (we certainly can: but they might be too grateful!) "can the work of administering justice, disposing of the lives and fortunes of men, become a family business?" (well, the business of bearing arms and disposing of men's lives and fortunes in civil war was in a family business. so too the business of being king, and you do not protest against that!) "it is a pity that montesquieu should dishonour his work by such paradoxes, but we must forgive him; his uncle purchased a provincial magistrate's office and left it to him. human nature comes in everywhere. none of us is without weaknesses." montesquieu thinks aristocratic bodies are good things. voltaire is in favour of absolute power. montesquieu would like the judicature to be a family office, that is to say hereditary like the profession of a soldier; this would make the judicial profession permanent like other professions. he demonstrates, as does suidas, that the purchase system creates an aristocracy. voltaire, like napoleon i., would make his soldiers, his priests, and his judges, king's men. they should all belong to the king, body and soul. montesquieu had a greater antagonist than voltaire in plato. plato wrote in his republic, referring to all judicial offices: "it is as if on board ship a man were made a pilot for his wealth. can it be that such a rule is bad in every other calling, and good only in respect of the governing of a republic?" montesquieu answers plato (and in anticipation voltaire) very wittily: "plato is speaking of a virtuous republic and i of a mere monarchy. under a monarchy if offices were not sold by rule, the poverty and greed of courtiers would sell them all the same, and chance after all will give a better result than the choice of a prince." to sum up, montesquieu wants the magistracy to be partly hereditary, and partly recruited from the wealthy classes, an independent, aristocratic body analogous to the army or the clergy, administering justice with that technical efficiency which university standards can guarantee, and with the moral efficiency which is founded on independence, dignity, public spirit and impartiality. i said above that venality, or the system of purchase, was not necessary to obtain these results. the principle is this, that the magistracy must be independent, and to be independent it must have a proprietary right in its duties. this can only be obtained if it hold its office by inheritance or purchase as was done under the _ancien régime_; or, if it were somehow contrived that magistrates should not be chosen by the government. the purchase or inheritance plan is not popular, then the only alternative is that the magistrates should be chosen by some body other than the government. by whom then? the people? then the judges would be dependent upon the people and the electors. --that would be better, or less bad.-- not at all. if the judges were chosen by the electors, they would be even less impartial than if they were elected by the government. the judge then would think of nothing but of being re-elected. he would always give judgment in favour of the party which had elected him. would you care to be judged before a court composed of the deputies of your department? certainly not, if you belong to the weaker party. yes, if you belong to the majority, but then only if you are certain that your adversary belongs to the minority, or, if he belong to your own party, that he is a less influential elector than yourself. to sum up, there is no guarantee of impartiality if the judges are elected. further, if the system of electing judges by those liable to their jurisdiction were adopted, there would be an extensive and, i might add, a most entertaining variety of justice. judges, who were elected by a "blue" or republican majority, and who were anxious for re-election, would always deliver judgment in favour of the blues. the same thing would happen in the "white" or royalists districts. "justice has her epochs," pascal said ironically, and in this case justice would have her districts. it would not be the same in the _alpes-maritimes_ as in the _côtes-du-nord_. the court of appeal, if it attempted to be impartial, would spend its time sending cases back from a blue district to be revised in a white, and the decisions delivered in a white country to be revised in a blue. there would be judicial and legal anarchy. --if the bench is not to be inherited, nor bought, nor chosen by the government, nor elected by the people, by whom is it to be nominated?-- by itself; i see no other solution. for instance i can suggest one good method, though there may be several. all the doctors of law in france could choose the judges of appeal and the judges of appeal could choose and promote all the judges. this is an aristocratic-democratic scheme on a very broad basis. or else the judges alone might choose the judges of appeal, and the judges of appeal might appoint and promote the judges. that is an oligarchical method. or again, here is a plan for passing from the system that is, to that which ought to be. for the first time the doctors of law might choose the _cour de cassation_, and it could choose the judges. afterwards the judges could fill the vacancies in the _cour de cassation_, which would nominate and promote the judges. the government would still go on, and continue to nominate the persons eligible to serve as magistrates. under all these systems the judges would form an autonomous, self-creative body, dependent upon and responsible to themselves alone, and by reason of their absolute independence, strictly impartial. --but they would form a caste!-- they would form a caste. i am sorry for it, but it is the case. you will never be well judged until you have a judicial caste, which is neither the government, nor the world at large. for the government cannot judge properly when it is both judge and party to the suit. further, if it be litigious; it will never be out of court. again, the world at large cannot judge properly, because, in practice, the world at large means the majority, and the majority is a party, and by definition a party can hardly be impartial. but democracy does not want to be judged by a caste. in the first place because it abhors castes, and secondly because it does not care about impartial justice. do not exclaim at the paradox. democracy does want to be judged impartially in little every-day cases, but in all important cases in which a political question is involved and in which one of the majority is opposed to one of the minority, the verdict then has to be for the stronger side. it says to the judicial bench what a simple-minded deputy said to the president of the chamber: "it is your duty to protect the majority." this is why democracy clings to its official magistracy, which contains some good elements though its members cannot always be impartial. they were condemned by the mouth of one of their highest dignitaries who answered when questioned about some illegal proceeding: "there are reasons of high state policy," thus throwing both the law and the judges at the feet of the government. on another occasion, with the very best intentions, in order to put an end to an interminable affair, they turned and twisted the law and set a bad example; for by not applying the law correctly, they laid themselves open to endless and justifiable attacks upon their decision; they did not procure the longed-for settlement, and, instead, left the matter open to interminable dispute. they have knowledge, good sense and intelligence, but as their want of independence, in other words their moral inefficiency, neutralises their technical efficiency, they do not and cannot possess authority. democracy will inevitably go further along the road towards its ideal, which is direct government. it will want to elect the judges. already it chooses them remotely in the third degree; for it chooses the deputies who choose the government, which chooses the judges; and to some extent, in the second degree, for it chooses the deputies who bring pressure to bear upon the nomination of the judges and interfere with their promotion and their decisions. this also is remote. and, as by this constitution, or, rather by this practice, recognition is given to the principle that it is the people who really appoints the judges through its intermediaries, democracy, always logical and matter of fact, would like to see the principle applied without concealment, and the people making the appointments directly. then endless questions will arise about the best way of voting and electing. if unipersonal ballot is adopted, the canton will nominate its _juge de paix_, the district its tribunal, the region its court, and the whole country the court of appeal. in this arrangement there will be the double drawback mentioned above; that is, varying interpretations of justice according to districts, and no impartiality. if, on the other hand, _scrutin de liste_ is adopted, the whole country will choose all the magistrates and they will belong to the majority. in this case there would be uniformity of justice but no impartiality. any intermediate system would combine the disadvantage of both plans. for instance, if nominations are made in each division, all the magistrates in brittany will be white partisans, while in provence they will be blue partisans. in both cases they will be biassed, and such diversity as there is will be merely a diversity of partiality and bias. we are talking of the future, though not perhaps of a very distant one. let us deal with the present. the jury is still with us. now the jury combines absolute moral competence with absolute technical incompetence. democracy must always have incompetence in one form or another. a jury is independent of everybody, both of the government and of the people, and in the best possible way, because it is the agent of the people without being elected. it does not seek re-election and is rather vexed than otherwise at being summoned to perform a disagreeable duty. on the other hand it always vacillates between two emotions, between pity and self-preservation, between feelings of humanity and the necessity for social protection; it is equally sensitive to the eloquence of the defending advocate, and the summing up of the prosecutor, and as these two influences balance each other it is in a perfect moral condition for delivering an equitable verdict. for this reason the jury is of ancient origin, and has always been an institution in the land. at athens the tribunal of the heliasts formed a kind of jury, too numerous indeed and more like a public meeting, but still a sort of jury. at rome, a better regulated republic, there were certain citizens chosen by the prætor who settled questions of fact, that is to say, decided whether an act had or had not been committed, whether a sum of money had or had not been paid; and the question of law was reserved for the centumvirs. in england the jury still exists and has existed for centuries. these various peoples have considered very properly that juries are excellently adapted for forming equitable decisions, since they possess a greater moral competence for this particular function, than is to be found elsewhere. this is true; but on the other hand a jury has no intelligence. in november , a jury in the côte d'or before whom a murderer was being tried, declared ( ) that this man did not strike the blows, ( ) that the blows which he struck resulted in death. thereupon the man was acquitted, although his violence, which never took place, had a murderous result. in the steinheil case in the same month and year, the jury's verdict involved ( ) that no one had been assassinated in the steinheils' house, and ( ) that mme steinheil was not the daughter of mme japy. if a verdict were a judgment this would have put an end to all attempts to discover the assassins of m. steinheil and mme japy, and on the other hand there would have been terrible social complications. but the verdict of a jury is not a judgment. why? because the legislator foresaw the alarming absurdity of verdicts. it is presumed in law that all juries' verdicts are absurd, and experience proves that this is often the case. juries' verdicts always seem to have been decided by lot like those of the famous judge in rabelais, and it is proverbial at the law courts that it is impossible to foresee the issue of any case that comes before a jury. it looks as if the jury reasoned thus: "i am a chance judge, and it is only right that my judgment should be dictated by chance." voltaire was in favour of the jury system, principally because he had such a very low opinion of the magistrates of his day, whom he used to compare to busiris. but, with his usual inconsequence, he takes no pains to conceal the fact that the populations of abbeville and its neighbourhood were unanimously exasperated against la barre and d'etalonde, and the people of toulouse against calas, and all of them would have been condemned by juries summoned from those districts as surely as they were by the magisterial busiris. the jury system is nothing but a refined example of the cult of incompetence. society, having to defend itself against thieves and murderers, lays the duty of defending it on some of its citizens, and arms them with the weapon of the law. unfortunately it chooses for the purpose citizens who do not know how to use the weapon. it then fondly imagines that it is adequately protected. the jury is like an unskilled gladiator entangled in the meshes of his own net. i need hardly say that democracy with its usual pertinacity is now trying to reduce the jury a step lower, and draw it from the lower instead of the lower middle classes. i see no harm in this myself, for in the matter of law the ignorance and inexperience of the lower middle class and the ignorance of the working class are much the same. i have only mentioned it to show the tendency of democracy towards what is presumably greater incompetence. now comes the turn of the _juges de paix_. at present we still have _juges de paix_. here we have a most interesting example of the way democracy strives after incompetence in matters judicial. owing to the expense entailed by an appeal the jurisdiction of a _juge de paix_ is very often final. he ought to be an instructed person with some knowledge of law and jurisprudence. he is therefore usually chosen from men who have a degree in law or from lawyers' clerks who have a certificate of ability. to be quite honest this is but a feeble guarantee. by the law of july th, , the french senate, anxious to find men of still grosser incompetence, decided that _juges de paix_ might be nominated from those, who, not having the required degree or certificate, had occupied the posts of mayor, deputy-mayor or councillor for ten years. the object of this decision was the very honest and legitimate one of giving senators and deputies the opportunity of rewarding the electoral services of the village mayors and their assistants. and remember senators especially are nominated by these officials. further it was an opportunity not to be missed for applying our principle--and our principle is this: we ask, where is absolute incompetence to be found, for to him who can lay indisputable claim to it we must confide authority. now mayors and their assistants answer this description exactly. they must be able to sign their names, but they are not obliged to know how to read, and eighty per cent. of them are totally illiterate. their work is done for them very usually by the local schoolmaster. the senate, therefore, was quite sure of finding among them men absolutely incompetent for the post of _juge de paix_, and it has found what it wanted. incompetence so colossal deserved an appointment, and an appointment has been given to it. the magistrature and the powers that be, seem to have been somewhat disturbed by certain consequences of this highly democratic institution. m. barthou, the minister of justice, complained bitterly of the work which this new institution caused him. he made the following speech in the chamber of deputies: "we are here to tell each other the truth, and, with all the due moderation and prudence that is fitting, i feel it my duty to warn the chamber against the results of the law of . at the present moment i am besieged with applications for the post of _juge de paix_. i need hardly mention that there are some , of them in my office, because a certain number are not eligible for consideration, but there are in round numbers , applications which are recommended and examined." (what he means to say is, that these are examined because they have been recommended, for, as is only right, those that are not backed by some political personage are not looked at.) "as the average annual number of vacancies is a hundred and eighty, you will readily see what a quandary i am in. some of these applications are made with the most extraordinary persistency, i might even call it ferocity, and these invariably come from men who have held the office of mayor or deputy-mayor for ten years, often in the most insignificant places." the minister of justice then read a report made on the subject by a _procureur-général_. "in this department there are forty-seven _juges de paix_, twenty of whom, as i learn from an enquiry, were mayors at the time of their appointment. it is not to be wondered at that the number of provincial magnates who aspire to the post is on the increase, for it seems to be generally recognised in this department that elective office irrespective of all professional aptitude is the normal means of access to a paid appointment, more especially to that of _juge de paix_. once they are appointed, the mayors combine both their municipal and judicial duties, and their interests lie far more in the commune which they administer than in the district in which they dispense justice and which, without permission, they should never leave. sometimes these district magistrates will go to any length to obtain moral support from the politicians of the neighbourhood. they extort this as a sort of blackmail given in exchange for the electoral influence which they can bring to bear in their municipal capacity. they attach far less importance to being quashed by the bench, than to the eventual support of the deputy. those who come into their courts are the unfortunate victims of these compromising arrangements which are giving the republican system a bad name." i think the minister of justice and his _procureur-général_ have very little ground for these lamentations. after all the minister only complains of having , applications for office. it would surely be quite easy for him, in compliance with the generally recognised principle, to choose those whose incompetence seems to be most thorough, or those who are most influentially supported, according to the prevailing custom. as for the _procureur-général's_ sarcasms, which he thinks so witty, they are quite delightfully diverting and ingenuous. "it seems to be generally recognised that elective office, irrespective of all professional aptitude, is the normal means of access to a paid appointment." what else does he expect? it is eminently democratic that the marked absence of professional capacity should single a man out for employment. that is the very spirit of democracy. he surely does not think that a man is an elector by reason of his legislative and administrative capacity? it is likewise essentially democratic that elective office should lead to paid appointments, for the democratic theory is that all office, paid and unpaid, should be elective. why, this _procureur-général_ must be an aristocrat! as for the mutual services rendered by the justice, as mayor, to the deputy, and by the deputy to the justice, this is democracy pure and simple. the deputies distribute favours that they may be returned to power; the influential electors put all their interest, both personal and official, at the service of the deputies in order to obtain those favours. they are hand in glove with each other, and form a solid union of interests. what more does the _procureur-général_ want? does he want a different system? if he wants another system, whatever else it may be, it will not be democracy, or at least it will not be a democratic democracy. nor have i any idea what he means when he says the republican system will get a bad name. the good name of the republic depends upon its putting into practice every democratic principle; and democratic principles have certainly never been more precisely realised than in the preceding example, which i have had great pleasure in rescuing from oblivion and presenting to the notice of sociologists. chapter viii. examples of incompetence. i have already compared this, our desire to worship incompetence, to an infectious disease. it has attacked the state at the very core, in its constitution, and it is not surprising that it is spreading rapidly to the customs and to the morals of the country. the stage, we know, is an imitation of life. life also, to perhaps an even greater extent, is an imitation of the stage. similarly laws spring from morals, and morals spring from law. "men are governed by many things," said montesquieu, "by climate, religion, laws, precept, example, morals and manners, which act and react upon each other and all combine to form a general temperament." morals, more often than not, determine the nature of our laws, particularly in a democracy, which is deplorable, but montesquieu was right in saying: "morals take their colour from laws, and manners from morals," for laws certainly "help to form morals, manners" and even "national character." for instance in rome under the empire the code of morals was to some extent the result of arbitrary power, as to-day the moral character of the english is to some extent due to the laws and constitution of their country. we know that by his laws peter the great changed if not the character at least the manners and customs of his people. custom is the offspring of law, and morals are the offspring of custom. national character is not really changed, for character, i believe, is a thing incapable of change, but it appears to be changed, and it certainly undergoes some modifications; one set of tendencies is checked, while others are encouraged. the law abolishing the right of primogeniture has obviously affected national morals, though it has not otherwise altered national character. for a peculiar mental attitude is evolved by the constant domination of an elder brother, whose birthright gives him precedence and authority second only to that of the father. in countries where the right of unrestricted testamentary bequests is still maintained, family morals are very different from those which obtain where the child is considered a joint proprietor of the patrimony. since the passing of the law permitting divorce, a sad but necessary evil, there have been far more applications for divorce than there ever were for separation. can this be accounted for solely by the fact that formerly it seemed hardly worth while to take steps to obtain the qualified freedom of separation? i think not. for when a yoke is unbearable, efforts to relax it would naturally be quite as strenuous and as unremitting as efforts to get rid of it altogether. the truth is, i think, that when both civil and ecclesiastical law agreed in prohibiting divorce, people held a different view of marriage; it was looked upon as something sacred, as a tie that it was shameful to break, and that could not be broken except as a last resource and then almost under pain of death. the law permitting divorce was what our forefathers would have called a "legal indiscretion." it has abolished the feeling of shame. except where there is strong religious feeling, there is now no scruple nor shame in seeking divorce. the old order has passed away; modesty has been superseded by a desire for liberty, or for another union. this change has been brought about by a law which was the result of a new moral code; but the law itself has helped to enlarge and expand the code. thus democracy extends that love of incompetence which is its most imperious characteristic. greek philosophers used to delight in imagining what morals, especially domestic morals, would be like under a democracy. they all vied with aristophanes. one of xenophon's characters says: "i am pleased with myself, because i am poor. when i was rich i had to pay court to my calumniators, who knew full well that they could harm me more than i could them. then the republic was always imposing fresh taxes and i could not escape. now that i am poor, i am invested with authority; no one threatens me. i threaten others. i am free to come and go as i choose. the rich rise at my approach and give me place. i was a slave, now i am a king; i used to pay tribute, now the state feeds me. i no longer fear misfortunes, and i hope to acquire wealth." plato too is quietly humorous at democracy's expense. "this form of government certainly seems the most beautiful of all, and the great variety of types has an excellent effect. at first sight does it not appear a privilege most delightful and convenient that we cannot be forced to accept any public office however eligible we may be, that we need not submit to authority and that every one of us can become a judge or magistrate as our fancy dictates? is there not something delightful in the benevolence shown to criminals? have you ever noticed how, in such a state as this, men condemned to death or exile remain in the country and walk abroad with the demeanour of heroes? see with what condescension and tolerance democrats despise the maxims which we have been brought up from childhood to revere and associate with the welfare of the republic. we believe that unless a man is born virtuous, he will never acquire virtue, unless he has always lived in an environment of honesty and probity and given it his earnest attention. see with what contempt democrats trample these doctrines under foot and never stop to ask what training a man has had for public office. on the contrary, anyone who merely professes zeal in the public interests is welcomed with open arms. it is instantly assumed that he is quite disinterested. "these are only a few of the many advantages of democracy. it is a pleasant form of government _in which equality reigns among unequal as well as among equal things_. moreover, when a democratic state, athirst for liberty, is controlled by unprincipled cupbearers, who give it to drink of the pure wine of liberty and allow it to drink till it is drunken, then if its rulers do not show themselves complaisant and allow it to drink its fill, they are accused and overthrown under the pretext that they are traitors aspiring to an oligarchy; for the people prides itself on and loves the equality that confuses and will not distinguish between those who should rule and those who should obey. is it any wonder that the spirit of licence, insubordination, and anarchy should invade everything, even the institution of the family? fathers learn to treat their children as equals and are half afraid of them, while children neither fear nor respect their parents. all the citizens and residents and even strangers aspire to equal rights of citizenship. "masters stand in awe of their disciples and treat them with the greatest consideration and are jeered at for their pains. young men want to be on the same terms as their elders and betters, and old men ape the manners of the young, for fear of being thought morose and dictatorial. observe too to what lengths of liberty and equality the relations between the sexes are carried. you would hardly believe how much freer domestic animals are there than elsewhere. it is proverbial that little lap-dogs are on the same footing as their mistresses, or as horses and asses; they walk about with their noses in the air and get out of nobody's way." aristotle, faithless at this point to his favourite method of always contradicting plato, has no particular liking, as we have said, for democracy. he does not spare it though he does not imitate plato's scathing sarcasm. in the first place, aristotle is frankly in favour of slavery, as was every ancient philosopher except perhaps seneca; but he is more insistent on this point than anyone else, for he looks upon slavery, not as one of many foundations, but as the very foundation of society. he considers artisans as belonging to a higher estate but still as a class of "half-slaves." he asserts as an historical fact that only extreme and decadent democracies gave them rights of citizenship, and theoretically he maintains that no sound government would give them the franchise of the city. "hence in ancient times, and among some nations, the working classes had no share in the government--a privilege which they only acquired under the extreme democracy.... doubtless in ancient times and among some nations the artisan class were slaves or foreigners, and therefore the majority of them are so now. the best form of state will not admit them to citizenship...." he admits that democracy may be considered as a form of government ("... if democracy be a real form of government...."), and he admits too that "... multitudes, of which each individual is but an ordinary person, when they meet together, may very likely be better than the few good, if regarded not individually but collectively.... hence the many are better judges than a single man of music and poetry; for some understand one part, and some another, and among them they understand the whole. [observe that he is still speaking of a democracy in which slaves and artisans are not citizens.] doubtless too democracy is the most tolerable of perverted governments, and plato has already made these distinctions, but his point of view is not the same as mine. for he lays down the principle that of all good constitutions democracy is the worst, but the best of bad ones." but still aristotle cannot help thinking that democracy is a sociological mistake "... it must be admitted that we cannot raise to the rank of citizens all those, even the most useful, who are necessary to the existence of the state." democracy has this drawback that it cannot constitutionally retain within itself and encourage eminent men. in a democracy "if there be some one person or more than one, although not enough to make up the whole complement of a state, whose virtue is so pre-eminent that the virtues or the capacity of all the rest admit of no comparison with his or theirs, he or they can be no longer regarded as part of a state; for justice will not be done to the superior, if he is reckoned only as the equal of those who are so far inferior to him in virtue and in political capacity. such an one may truly be deemed a god among men. hence we see that legislation is necessarily concerned only with those who are equal in birth and in power; and that for men of pre-eminent virtue there is no law--they are themselves a law. anyone would be ridiculous who attempted to make laws for them: they would probably retort what, in the fable of antisthenes, the lions said to the hares--'where are your claws?'--when in the council of the beasts the latter began haranguing and claiming equality for all. and for this reason democratic states have instituted ostracism; equality is above all things their aim, and therefore they ostracise and banish from the city for a time those who seem to predominate too much through their wealth, or the number of their friends, or through any other political influence. mythology tells us that the argonauts left heracles behind for a similar reason; the ship argo would not take him because she feared that he would have been too much for the rest of the crew." thrasybulus, the tyrant of miletus, asked periander, the tyrant of corinth, one of the seven sages of greece, for advice on the art of government. periander made no reply but proceeded to bring a field of corn to a level by cutting off the tallest ears. "this is a policy not only expedient for tyrants or in practice confined to them, but equally necessary in oligarchies and democracies. ostracism is a measure of the same kind, which acts by disabling and banishing the most prominent citizens." this is what we may call a constitutional necessity for the democracy. to be quite honest, it is not always obliged to cut off the ears of corn. it has a simpler method. it can systematically prevent any man who betrays any superiority whatsoever, either of birth, fortune, virtue or talent, from obtaining any authority or social responsibility. it can "send to coventry." i have often pointed out that under the first democracy louis xvi was guillotined for having wished to leave the country, while under the third democracy his great-nephews were exiled for wishing to remain in it. ostracism is, in these instances, still feeling its way, and its action is contradictory because it has not made up its mind. this will continue till it has been reduced to a science, when it will contrive to level, by one method or another, every individual eminence, great and small, that dares to vary by the merest fraction from the regulation standards. this is ostracism, and ostracism, so to speak, is a physiological organ of democracy. democracy by using it mutilates the nation, without it democracy would mutilate itself. aristotle often tries to solve the problem of the eminent man. "good men," he says, "differ from any individual of the many, as the beautiful are said to differ from those who are not beautiful, and works of art from realities, because in them the scattered elements are combined.... whether this principle can apply to every democracy and to all bodies of men is not clear.... but there may be bodies of men about whom our statement is nevertheless true. and if so, the difficulty which has been already raised--viz., what power should be assigned to the mass of freemen and citizens--is solved. there is still a danger in allowing them to share the great offices of state, for their folly will lead them into error and their dishonesty into crime. but there is a danger also in not letting them share, for a state in which many poor men are excluded from office will necessarily be full of enemies. the only way of escape is to assign to them some deliberative and judicial functions.... but each individual left to himself, forms an imperfect judgment." it is not only the eminent man that is the thorn in the flesh of democracies, but every form of superiority, whether individual or collective, which exists outside the state and the government. if we recollect that aristotle coupled extreme democracy with tyranny, it will be interesting to recall his summary of the "ancient prescriptions for the preservation of a tyranny...." "the tyrant should lop off those who are too high; he must put to death men of spirit: he must not allow common meals, clubs, education and the like; he must be upon his guard against anything which is likely to inspire either courage or confidence among his subjects; he must prohibit literary assemblies or other meetings for discussion, and he must take every means to prevent people from knowing one another (for acquaintance begets mutual confidence)." aristotle's conclusions are subjectively aristocratic: "in the perfect state there would be great doubts about the use of ostracism, not when applied to excess in strength, wealth, popularity or the like, but when used against some one who is pre-eminent in virtue. what is to be done with him? mankind will not say that such an one is to be expelled and exiled; on the other hand he ought not to be a subject, that would be as if men should claim to rule over zeus on the principle of rotation of office. the only alternative is that all should joyfully obey such a rule, according to what seems to be the order of nature, and that men like him should be kings in their state for life." but when he speaks objectively, aristotle comes to another conclusion, which we shall have occasion to mention later on. among moderns, rousseau declared that he was not a democrat, and he was right, because by democracy he meant the athenian system of direct government, of which he did not for an instant approve. in the "social contract" he has drawn up a most detailed scheme, which, in spite of some contradictions and obscure passages, is an exact description of democracy as we understand the word; but still we cannot tell if he is actually a democrat, because we do not know what he means by "citizens," whether he means everybody or only one class, though that a numerous one. rousseau has written more fully than anyone else, not so much of the influence of democracy on morals, as of the _coincidence_ between democracy and good morals. equality, frugality and simplicity can all be found, according to rousseau, in states where there is neither royalty nor aristocracy nor plutocracy. as i understand it, his meaning is that the same virtue which makes certain nations love equality, frugality and simplicity is also productive of a form of government which excludes aristocracy, plutocracy and royalty. if you have simplicity, frugality and equality, you will probably live in a republic that is democratic or virtually democratic. this is, i think, the clearest and most impartial summary that we can make of rousseau's doctrine, which, though set forth in rigid formulæ, is still extremely vague. in this he is a far more faithful follower of montesquieu than he will allow. all that i have quoted is to be found literally in montesquieu's chapters on democracy. even his famous saying, "the ruling principle of democracy is virtue," means, when he uses it in one sense, no more than that it is the synthesis of these three perfections, equality, simplicity and frugality. for montesquieu sometimes uses "virtue" in a narrow, and sometimes in a broad sense, sometimes in the sense of political and civic virtue or patriotism, sometimes in the sense of virtue properly speaking (simplicity, frugality, thrift, equality). in this latter case he and rousseau are absolutely agreed. montesquieu only considers democracy in decadence, as his custom is in respect of other forms of government, and though he does not actually cite plato, he really gives the substance of what we have already quoted. "when the people wishes to do the work of the magistrates, the dignity of the office disappears and when the deliberations of the senate carry no weight, neither senators nor old men are treated with respect. when old men do not receive respect, fathers cannot expect it from their children, husbands from their wives, nor masters from their men. at length everyone will learn to rejoice in this untrammelled liberty, and will grow as weary of commanding as of obeying. women, children and slaves will submit to no authority. there will be an end of morals, no more love of order, no more virtue." now as to this transition, this passage from the public morals of a democracy to the private, domestic, personal morals which exist under that form of government, have you observed what is the common root of our failings both public and private? the common root of both is misunderstanding, forgetfulness and contempt of competence. if pupils despise their masters, young men despise old men, if wives do not respect their husbands and the unenfranchised do not respect the citizens, if the condemned do not stand in awe of their judges, nor sons in awe of their parents, the principle of efficiency has vanished. pupils no longer admit the scientific superiority of their teachers, young men have no regard for the experience of the old, women will not recognise the supremacy of their husbands in practical matters, the unenfranchised have no sense of the superiority of the citizens from the point of view of national tradition, the condemned do not feel the moral supremacy of their judges, and sons do not realise the scientific, practical, civic and moral superiority of their fathers. indeed, why should they? how could we expect these feelings to be of anything but the most transient description since the state itself is organised on a basis of contempt for competence, or of what is even worse, a reverence for incompetence, and an insatiable craving for the guidance and government of the incompetent? thus public morals have a great influence on private morals; and gradually into family and social life there comes that laxity in the daily relations of the citizens which plato has wittily termed, "equality between things that are equal and those that are not." the first innovation which democracy brings into family life is the equality of the sexes, and this is followed by woman's disrespect for man. this idea, be it admitted, is substantially correct, it only ceases to be true when it is viewed relatively to the varying competences of the two sexes. woman is man's equal in cerebral capacity, and in civilised societies, where intellect is the only thing that matters, the woman is the equal of the man. she should be admitted to the same employments as men in society, and under the same conditions of capacity and education, but in family life the same rules should apply as in every other enterprise; ( ) division of labour according to the competence of each; ( ) recognition of a leader according to the competence of each. this is the law which women are constantly led to misunderstand in a democracy. they will not admit the principle of the division of labour either in the world at large or in the domestic circle. they try to encroach upon men's work, which perhaps they might do very successfully, if they were obliged to do it and had nothing else at all to do; but which they really spoil by undertaking when they have other obvious duties to perform. they will not admit that men should be at the head of affairs; they aspire to be not only partners but managing directors. this implies a contemptuous rejection of that form of social competence which comes from the acceptance of convention or contract. no doubt a woman would be just as good a tax-collector as her husband, but since they have entered into partnership, the one to administer the collection of taxes, the other to look after the house, it is just as bad for the one whose business it is to keep house to begin collecting taxes, as it is for the tax-collector to interfere with the housekeeping. it is necessary to respect the efficiency that arises out of the observance of convention and contract. this, with practice and experience, will quickly become a very real and a very valuable efficiency, but if thwarted from outside will lead to friction, insecurity and disorganisation. it is particularly by their contempt, which they are at no pains to disguise, for the competence that comes from contract and later from habit, by their refusal to recognise the position of the head of the family, that women every day and in every minute particular are training their children to despise their father. democracy seems bent on bringing up its children to despise their parents. no other construction can be put upon the facts, however good and innocent the motives. just sum up the facts. in the first place democracy denies that the living can be guided by the dead; it is one of its fundamental axioms that no generation should be tied and bound by its predecessor. what inference can children be expected to draw from this except that they owe no obedience to their father and mother? children have naturally only too great a tendency to look down on their parents. they are proud of their physical superiority; they know that their star is rising while that of their parents is setting. they are imbued with the universal prejudice of modern humanity that _progress is constant_ and that therefore whatever is of yesterday is _ex hypothesi_ inferior to that which is of to-day. they are driven also, as i am constrained to believe, by a sort of nemesis inspired by fear lest human science and power should hurry forward too fast if the children were content to pick up the burden of life where their parents left it, and simply followed their fathers and did not insist on effacing all that their fathers had done and beginning again--with the result that the edifice never rises far above its foundations, and that children for this and other reasons have a natural inclination to treat their parents as cassandras. then, as it were to clench the argument, democracy is ready with its teaching that each generation is independent of the other, and that the dead have no lesson to impart to the living. in the second place, democracy, applying the principle still further and proclaiming the doctrine that the state is master of all, withdraws the child from the family, as often and as completely as it can. "democracy," said socrates, in one of his humorous dialogues, "is a mountebank, a kidnapper of children. it snatches the child from its family while he is playing, takes him far away, allows him no more to see his family, teaches him many strange languages, drills him till his joints are supple, paints his face and dresses him in ridiculous clothes, and imparts to him all the mysteries of the acrobat's trade until he is sufficiently dexterous to appear in public and amuse the company by his tricks." at all events democracy is determined to take the child away from his family, to give him the education which it has chosen and not that which the parents have chosen, and to teach him that he must not believe what his parents teach him. it denies the competence of parents to rear their children and puts forward its own competence, asserting that it is only its own that has any value. this is one of the principal causes of the divisions between fathers and children in a democracy. you may retort that democracy does not always succeed in its efforts to separate children from their parents, because there is nothing to prevent the children extending the contempt, which for such excellent reasons they have been taught to entertain for their parents, to their state-appointed teachers. this is a most pertinent observation, for the general maxims of democracy are just as likely to make pupils despise their masters as to make sons despise their fathers. the master, too, represents in the eyes of his pupil that past which has no connection with the present and which by the law of progress is very inferior to the present. this is true; but the end of all is that between the school which counteracts the influence of the parents and the home which counteracts the influence of the school, the child becomes a personage who is never educated at all. he is in like case with a child who in the family itself receives lessons, and what is more important, example, from a mother who is religious and from a father who is an atheist. he is not educated, he has had no sort of education. the only real education, that is to say, the only transmission to the children of the ideas of their parents consists of an education at home which is reinforced by the instruction of masters chosen by the parents in accordance with their own views. this is precisely the form of education to which democracy refuses to be reconciled. * * * * * there is a still more cogent reason why old men are neither respected nor honoured in a democracy. here is yet another efficiency formally denied and formally set aside. an interesting treatise might be written on the rise and fall of old men. civilization has not been kind to them. in primitive times, as among savage races to-day, old men were kings. gerontocracy, that is, government by the aged, is the most ancient form of government. it is easy to understand why this should be. in primitive ages, all knowledge was experience and the old men possessed all the historical, social and political experience of the state. they were held in great honour and listened to with the profoundest respect and veneration, in fact with an almost superstitious reverence. nietzsche was thinking of those days when he said: "respect for the aged is the symbol of aristocracy," and when he added: "respect for the aged is respect for tradition," he was thinking of the reason for this assumption. that the dead should rule the living was accepted instinctively, and it was their nearness to death which evoked honour for the aged. at a later stage the old man shared in the civil government with monarchy, aristocracy or oligarchy, and retained an almost complete control of judicial affairs. his moral and technical efficiency were still appreciated. his moral efficiency to his contemporaries consisted in the fact that his passions were deadened and his judgment as disinterested as was humanly possible. even his obstinacy is rather an advantage than otherwise. he is not liable to whims and fancies and sudden gusts of temper or to external influence. his technical efficiency is considerable, because he has seen and remembered much and his mind has unconsciously drawn up a reference book of cases. as history repeats itself with very slight alterations, every fresh case which arises is already well known to him; it does not take him by surprise and he has a solution at hand which only requires very slight modification. all this, however, is very ancient history. that which undermined the authority of old men was the book. books contain all science, equity, jurisprudence and history better, it must be confessed, than the memories of old men. one fine day the young men said: "the old men were our books; now that we have books we have no further need for old men." this was a mistake; the knowledge which is accumulated in books can never be anything but the handmaiden of living science, the science which is being constantly remodelled and corrected by living thought. a book is a wise man paralysed; the wise man is a book which still thinks and writes. these ideas did not hold; the book superseded the old man, and the old man no longer was a library to the nation. later still, for various reasons, the old men drifted from a position of respect to one of ridicule. undoubtedly they lend themselves to this; they are obstinate, foolish, prosy, boring, crotchety and unpleasant to look upon. comic writers poked fun at these failings which are only too self-evident and showered ridicule upon them. then as the majority of audiences is composed of young men, first of all because there are more young men than old, and secondly because old men do not often go to the theatre, authors of comic plays were certain of raising a laugh by turning old men into ridicule, or rather by exposing only their ridiculous characteristics. at athens and at rome and probably elsewhere, the old man was one of the principal grotesque characters. these things, as rousseau pointed out, have a great effect upon morals. once the old man became a recognised traditional stage-butt, his social authority had come to an end. in the _de senectute_ it is obvious that cicero is running counter to the stream in seeking to restore to favour a character about whom the public is indifferent and for whom all he can do is to plead extenuating circumstances. it is a remarkable fact that even in mediæval epics, charlemagne himself, the emperor of the flowing beard, often plays a comic part. the epic is invaded by the atmosphere of the fable. during the renaissance, the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the old man is generally, though not invariably, held up to ridicule. molière takes his lead from aristophanes and plautus rather than from terence and is the scourge of old age as well as "the scourge of the ridiculous"; he pursues the old as a hound his prey and never leaves them in peace either in his poetry or his prose. we must do this much justice to rousseau that both he and his child, the revolution, tried to restore the old man to his former glory; he makes honourable mention of him in his writings, and she gives him important posts in public ceremonies and national fêtes. therein were received the ancient memories of lacedæmon and of early rome, combined with a form of reaction against the days of louis xiv and louis xv. but with the triumph of democracy the old man was finally banished to the limbo of discredited things. montesquieu's advice was quite forgotten (see the context laws, v, ). he said that _in a democracy_ "nothing kept the standard of morals so high as that young men should venerate the old. both profit by it, the young because they respect the old, and the old because they are confirmed in their respect for themselves" (for the respect of the young is an assistance to the self-respect of the aged). democracy has forgotten this advice, because it no longer believes in tradition and believes too much in progress. old men are the natural upholders of tradition, and we must confess that an enthusiastic faith in the value of what we call progress is not commonly their failing. for this very reason their influence would be a most wholesome corrective to the system, or rather to the attitude of mind, which despises the past and sees in every change a step in the path of progress. but democracy will not allow that it needs a corrective, and the old man, to it, is only an enemy. the old man upholds tradition and has no enthusiasm for progress, but beyond this he appeals for respect, first for himself, then for religion, for glory, for his country and for the history of his nation. democracy is indifferent to the sentiment of respect, or rather it lives in constant fear that the sentiment may be applied elsewhere. then what does democracy want for itself? not respect, but adoration, passion, devotion. we all like to see our own sentiments as to ourselves repeated in the minds of others. the crowd never respects, it loves, it yields to passion, enthusiasm, fanaticism. it never respects even that which it loves. it is quite natural that the masses should not care for old men. the masses are young. how aptly does horace's description of the young man apply to the people! _imberbis juvenis, tandem custode remoto gaudet equis, canibusque et aprici gramine campi; cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper, utilium tardus provisor, prodigus æris, sublimis, cupidusque et amata relinquere pernix._ "once free from the control of his tutors, the young man thinks of nothing but horses, dogs and the campus martius, impressionable as wax to every temptation, impatient of correction, unthrifty, extravagant, presumptuous and light of love." at all events respect has no meaning for the crowd, and when it rules, we cannot from its example learn the lessons of respect. democracy has no love for the old; and it is interesting to note that the word gerontocracy to which the ancients attached the most honourable meaning is now only a term of ridicule, and is applied only to a government which, because it is in the hands of old men, is therefore grotesque. * * * * * this disappearance of respect, noted as we have seen by plato, aristotle and montesquieu as a morbid system, is, regard it how we will, a fact of the gravest import. kant has asked the question, what must we obey? what criterion is there to tell us what to obey? what is there within us which commands respect, which does not ask for love or fear, but for respect alone? he has given us the answer. the feeling of respect is the only thing that we can trust, and that will never fail us. in society the only feelings we obey are those which win our respect, and the men to whom we listen, and whom we honour, are those who inspire respect. this is the only criterion which enables us to gauge correctly the men and things to whom we owe, if not absolute obedience, at least attention and deference. old men are the nation's conscience, and it is a conscience at times severe, morose, tiresome, obstinate, over-scrupulous, dictatorial, and it repeats for ever the same old saws; in other words a conscience; but conscience it is. the comparison might be carried further with results that would be advantageous as well as curious. we degrade and finally vitiate our conscience if we do not respect its behests. conscience then itself becomes small and timid and humble, shamefaced, and at length a mere whisper. absolutely silent it can never be made. it becomes sophisticated, it begins to employ the language of passion, not of the vilest passions of our nature, but still the voice of passion; it ceases to use the categoric imperative and tries to be persuasive. it no longer raises the finger of command, but it seeks to cajole with caressing hand. then it falls still lower, it affects indifference and scepticism and it puts on the air of the trifler in order to insinuate a word of wisdom into the seductive talk that is heard around it, and it holds language somewhat as follows: "probably everything has its good points and there is something to be said for both vice and virtue, crime and honesty, sin and innocence, rudeness and politeness, licence and purity. these are all simply different forms of an activity which cannot be wholly wrong in any of its manifestations; and it is precisely because every one of these has its value that there may be nothing to lose in being honest, nay, perhaps something to gain." nevertheless, a nation that does not respect its old men changes their nature and despoils them of their beauty and integrity. how true is montesquieu's saying that the respect paid them by the young helps old men to respect themselves! old men who are not respected take no interest in their natural duties; they cease to advise, or else they only venture to advise indirectly, as though they were apologising for their wisdom, or they affect a laxity of morals to enable them to insinuate a surreptitious dose of worldly wisdom;--and worst of all in view of the insignificant part assigned to them in society, old men will nowadays decline to be old. chapter ix. manners. if the worship of incompetence reverberates with a jarring note through our domestic morals, it has an effect hardly less harmful on the social relations of men in the wider theatre of public life. we often ask why politeness is out of date, and everyone replies with a smile: "this is democratic." so it is, but why should it be? montesquieu remarks that "to cast off the conventions of civility is to seek a method for putting our faults at their ease." he adds the rather subtle distinction that "politeness flatters the vices of others, and civility prevents us from displaying our own. it is a barrier raised by men to prevent them from corrupting each other." that which flatters vice can hardly be called politeness, but is rather adulation. civility and politeness are only slightly different in degree; civility is cold and very respectful, politeness has a suggestion of flattery. it graciously draws into evidence the good qualities of our neighbour, not his failings, much less his vices. there is no doubt that civility and politeness are a delicate means of showing respect to our fellow-men, and of communicating a wish to be respected in turn. these things then are barriers, but barriers from which we derive support, which separate and strengthen us, but which, though holding us apart, do not keep us estranged from our neighbours. it is also very true that if we release ourselves from these rules, whether they are civility or politeness, we set our faults at liberty. the basis of civility and politeness is respect for others and respect for ourselves. as abbé barthélemy has very justly remarked: "in the first class of citizens is to be found a spirit of decorum which makes it evident that men respect themselves, and a spirit of politeness which makes it evident that they also respect others." this is what pascal meant by saying that respect is our own inconvenience, and he explains it thus, that to stand when our neighbour is seated, to remove our hat when he is covered, though trifling acts of courtesy, are tokens of the efforts we would willingly make on his behalf if an opportunity of being really serviceable to him presented itself. politeness is a mark of respect and a promise of devotion. all this is anti-democratic, because democracy does not recognise any superiority, and therefore has no sympathy with respect and personal devotion. respect to others involves a recognition from us that we are of less importance than they, and politeness to an equal requires from us a courteous affectation that we consider him as our superior. this is entirely contrary to the democratic ideal, which asserts that there is no superiority anywhere. as for pretending to treat your equal as though he were your superior, that involves a double hypocrisy, because it requires a reciprocal hypocrisy on the part of your neighbour. you praise his wit, only in order that he may return the compliment. without, however, insisting on this point, democracy will argue that politeness is to be deprecated, because it not only recognises but actually creates superiority. it treats an equal as a superior, as though there were not enough discrepancies already without inventing any more. it seems to imply that if inequality did not exist, it would be necessary to invent it. it is tantamount to proclaiming that there cannot be too much aristocracy. that is an opinion which democracy cannot endure. considered as a promise of future devotion, politeness is equally anti-democratic. the citizen owes no devotion to any person, he owes it only to the community. it is no small matter to style yourself "your most humble servant"; it means that you single out one man from among many others and promise to serve him; it means that you acknowledge in him some natural or social superiority, and according to democracy there are no superiorities, social or natural, and if there were such a thing as natural superiority, nature has no business to allow it. this is tantamount to proclaiming a form of vassalage--a thing which is not to be tolerated. as to the absence of politeness considered as "a means of giving free play to one's feelings," we recognise that in one sense this also is essentially democratic. the democrat is not proud of or pleased with his faults; not at all; only _ex hypothesi_ he does not believe in their existence. a failing is an inferiority of one man in relation to another; the word itself implies it; it means that something is lacking, that one man has a thing which another has not. but all men are equal, therefore, argues the democrat, i have no failing; therefore i need not try to conceal and control my alleged failings, as they are at worst merely mannerisms, and are possibly virtues. the democrat, in fact, like young men, like most women, and like all human beings who have begun to think but do not think very profoundly, knows his failings and assumes that they are virtues. this is very natural, for our faults are the most conspicuous parts of our character, and when we are still at the self-satisfied stage it is our faults that we cherish and admire. consequently, politeness, in that it consists in concealing our faults, is intolerable to a man who is impatient to display qualities that to him appear commendable and worthy. the usual reason why we do not correct our faults is that we mistake them for qualities, and think that any practice which requires their concealment must be quite absurdly tyrannical. the democrat is therefore profoundly convinced of two things; first, that all men are equal and that there is no such thing as inferiority or failing, and secondly, that what men call faults are really natural characteristics of great interest. he believes that faults are popular prejudices invented by intriguers, priests, nobles and rulers, for their own base purposes to inspire the poor with humility. he looks upon this sense of inferiority as a curb on the people's power, all the more potent that it works from within and has a paralysing effect on its energy. he is persuaded that, from this point of view, politeness is an aristocratic instrument of tyranny. this explains why, when the wave of democracy swept over france, it brought with it a perfect frenzy of rudeness, all the more curious in a nation remarkable for courtesy. it was an affirmation that, appearances notwithstanding, neither superiorities nor excellences of human character had any real existence. rudeness is democratic. chapter x. professional customs. the contempt for efficiency is carried far even in the liberal professions and in professional customs. we all know the story, perhaps a mythical one, of the judge who said to an earnest young barrister who was conscientiously elaborating a question of law: "now, mr. so and so, we are not here to discuss questions of law but to settle this business." he did not say this by way of jest; he wished to say: "the courts no longer deliver judgment on the merits of a case according to law, but according to equity and common sense. the intricacies of the law are left to professors, so please when conducting a case do not behave like a professor of law." this theory, which even in this mild form would have horrified the ancients, is very prevalent nowadays in legal circles. it has crept in as an infiltration, as one might call it, from the democratic system. a magistrate, nowadays, whatever remnant of the ancient feeling of caste he may have retained, certainly does not consider himself bound by the letter of the law, or by jurisprudence, the written tradition; when he is anything more than a subordinate with no other idea of duty than subservience to the government, he is a democratic magistrate, a heliast of athens; he delivers judgment according to the dictates of his individual conscience; he does not consider himself as a member of a learned body, bound to apply the decisions of that body, but as an independent exponent of the truth. an eccentric, but in truth very significant, example of the new attitude of mind is to be found in the judge, who formally attributed to himself the right to make law and who in his judgments made references, not to existing laws, but to such vague generalities as appealed to him, or to doctrines which he prophesied would _later on_ be embodied in the law. his code was the code of the future. the mere existence of such a man is of no particular importance, but the fact that many people, even those partially enlightened, took him seriously, that he was popular, and that a considerable faction thought him a good judge, is most significant. there is another much commoner sign of the times. the worst form of incompetence is perhaps that which allows a man to be competent without realising it, and, in criminal cases at least, this seems to be the normal attitude of the majority of our magistrates. we should read on this point a very curious pamphlet called _le pli professionnel_ ( ), by marcel lestranger, a provincial magistrate. it is very pertinent to our subject. it shows plainly that the magistracy nowadays, both the qualified stipendiaries and the bench of magistrates, has lost all confidence in itself and is terrified of public opinion as represented by newspapers, associations, political clubs and the man in the street; the magistrate knows too, or thinks he knows, that promotion depends, not on a reputation for severity as it used to do, but on a reputation for indulgence. he is confronted in the execution of his duty by forces which are always in coalition against him; the public, almost always favourable to the accused, the press, both local and parisian, the so-called science of judicial medicine, which is almost always disposed to consider the accused as persons not responsible for their actions. he lives, too, in constant terror of being mixed up in a miscarriage of justice, for miscarriage of justice is now a sort of craze, and with a considerable section of the public every conviction is a miscarriage of justice. and so the magistrate of first instance never dares to sum up severely, and the stipendiary never dares press his interrogations with firmness. there are exceptions of course; but these exceptions, by the astonishment which they excite, and by the reaction to which they give rise, show sufficiently, indeed conclusively, that they are abnormal, outside the new order of things, outside the new habits of the people. more often than not the subordinate magistrate, whose business it is to commit the prisoner for trial, acts with timidity and reserve, apologetically attenuating the crime; he leaves loopholes of escape, appeals in audible asides for indulgence, dwells on the uncertainty of evidence. he demands indeed the prisoner's head but lives in terror lest he obtain it. the fact is what both he and the stipendiary desire is that the affair should be settled by an acquittal, for an affair settled by an acquittal is an affair buried. stone-dead has no fellow; it is consigned to oblivion. it can never be made the sort of affair which someone is sure to declare is a miscarriage of justice, or which someone, animated by private and political spite or merely for the sake of a jest, can make into a ghost to haunt for ten or even fifteen years the unfortunate magistrate who had to deal with it. m. lestranger tells a story which, from all the information i can glean and from what i can remember hearing at the time, is absolutely true and a perfect illustration of thousands of similar cases. a poacher, aged nineteen, first outraged and then strangled in the woods a peasant woman, the mother of a family. on this occasion there could be no question of a miscarriage of justice or even of any suggestion of such a thing, because the prisoner pleaded guilty. that is a great point. in france every conviction that is not based upon the prisoner's confession is a miscarriage of justice; but when the prisoner pleads guilty there can be no incriminations of this sort, although there might be, for false confessions are not unknown, but nothing of the sort is ever put forward, and the case seemed to be quite straightforward. but the magistrates were terrified that the prisoner would be condemned to death. the crime was horrible, particularly in the eyes of a village jury, whose wives and daughters were often obliged to work some distance from the village. moreover, there was a tiresome man, the widower of the victim, thirsting for vengeance, who sang the praises of his wife and brought his weeping son into court while he gave his evidence. the president and the public prosecutor were in despair. "i have done all i can," said the president to the public prosecutor. "i have made the most of his youth. i have repeated 'only nineteen years of age.' i have indeed done all i can." "i have done all i can," said the public prosecutor to the president. "i have not said a word about the punishment. i merely accused. i could not plead for the defence. i have done my best." at the close of the hearing the chief constable was very reassuring to these gentlemen. "he is under twenty and he looked so respectable at the enquiry. it is quite impossible that he should be condemned to death in this quiet village. you will see, he will not be sentenced to capital punishment." he was not. the jury brought in a verdict of guilty with extenuating circumstances. the magistrates recovered their tranquillity. m. lestranger's facts are supported by figures. those who commit crimes which excite pity, such as infanticide and abortion, are less and less likely to be prosecuted, and if they are, they are frequently let off, however flagrant the offence. the average number of acquittals during the last twelve years is twenty-six per cent. a magistrate nowadays is a st. francis of assize. either the magistrate does not believe in his own efficiency, or he sacrifices it to his peace of mind, and he cares more for his own peace of mind than for the public safety. the magistracy will soon be no more than a _façade_, still imposing but not at all alarming. there is already a very serious symptom of how little confidence the crowd has in the wholesome severities of justice; the criminal caught in the act is often lynched or almost lynched, because it is well known that if he is not punished immediately, he is very likely to escape punishment altogether. --yet this same crowd, in the form of a jury, is often, almost always, very indulgent.--true, and that is because between the crime and the assizes there is often an interval of six months. at the date of the crime it is the misfortune of the victim that excites the crowd, at the date of the assize it is the misfortune of the accused. be this as it may, the practice of lynching amounts to a formal accusation that both magistrates and juries are over indulgent. * * * * * the clergy even, who are more tenacious of tradition than any other order in the state, are gradually becoming democratic to this extent, that though by profession teachers of dogmas and mysteries, they now teach only morality. in this way they try to get into closer touch with the poor, and so have a greater hold upon them. evidently they are not altogether to blame. only, when they cease to teach dogma and interpret mysteries, they cease to be a learned body or to have the prestige of a learned body. on the other hand they sink to the level of any other philosophy, which teaches and explains morality, and illustrates it by sacred examples just as well as any priesthood. the result is that the people say to themselves "what need have we of priests? moral philosophers are good enough for us." this americanism is not very dangerous, in fact it does not matter, in america, where there are very few lay moral philosophers; but it is a very great danger in france, italy and belgium where their name is legion. * * * * * in every profession, to sum it all up, the root of the evil is this, that we believe that mere dexterity and cunning are incomparably superior to knowledge and that cleverness is infinitely more valuable than sound learning. those who follow professions believe this, and the lay public that employs the professions is not dismayed by this attitude of the professional class; and so things tend to that equality of charlatanry to which democracy instinctively tends. democracy does not respect efficiency, but it soon will have no opportunity to respect it; for efficiency is being destroyed and before long will have disappeared altogether. there will soon be no difference between the judge and the suitor, between the layman and the priest, the sick man and the physician. the contempt which is felt for efficiency destroys it little by little, and efficiency, accepting the situation, outruns the contempt that is felt for it. the end will be that we shall all be only too much of one opinion. chapter xi. attempted remedies. we have sought very conscientiously, and democrats themselves have sought very conscientiously, to find remedies for this constitutional disease of democracy. we have preserved certain bodies, relatively aristocratic, as refuges, we would fain believe, of efficiency. we have preserved for instance a senate, elected by universal suffrage, not directly, but in the second degree. we have preserved also a parliament (a senate and a chamber of deputies), a floating aristocracy which is continually being renewed. this is, however, in a sense an aristocracy inasmuch as it stands between us and a direct and immediate government of the people by the people. these remedies are by no means to be despised, but we recognise that they are very feeble, for the reason that democracy always eludes them. by the care it takes to exclude efficiency, it has made the chamber of deputies (with some few exceptions) a body resembling itself with absolute fidelity both in respect of the superficial character of its knowledge and the violence of its prejudices; with the result in my opinion that the crowd might just as well govern directly and, without the intervention of representatives, by means of the plebiscite. the same thing applies to the senate, though perhaps in a more direct fashion. the senate is chosen by the delegates of universal suffrage. these delegates, however, are not chosen by a general universal suffrage where each department would choose four or five hundred delegates, but by the town councillors of each commune or parish. in these communes, especially in the rural communes, the municipal councillors who are by far the most numerous and, with regard to elections, the most influential, are more or less completely dependent on the _préfets_. the result is that the senate is, practically, chosen by the _préfets_, that is, by the government, as used to be the case under the first and second empire. the maker of the constitution made this arrangement for the benefit of his own party, for he upheld authority; and he wanted the central government to control the elections of the senate. it has not turned out as he intended. _vos non vobis_, others have profited by his device, as the following considerations will show. it is well known that in france a deputy belonging to the opposition, though sure of his constituents, and certain to be re-elected indefinitely, who for private reasons wishes to be a senator, is obliged to be civil to the government in power, to abate his opposition, and to make himself pleasant, if he wishes to avoid failure in his new ambition. it is very inconvenient to have a strong and active opposition in the senate. it comes back again to this, that we have a senate not far removed from one elected by universal suffrage. universal suffrage elects the chamber of deputies, the chamber elects the government, and the government elects the senate. the senate is therefore an extremely feeble anti-democratic remedy, and if it were intended as a check on democracy, it has not been a striking success. if we really wish to have an upper chamber as competent as possible, independent of the central authority, and relatively independent of universal suffrage, we must establish a chamber elected by the great constituent bodies of the nation, and also in my opinion, by universal suffrage, but with modifications somewhat as follows. the whole nation, divided for practical purposes into five or six large districts, should elect five or six thousand delegates who in turn should elect three hundred senators. there would then be no pressure from government nor any manufacture by the crowd of a representation fashioned in its own image, and we should have a really select body composed of as much competence as could be got in the country. it is, however, exactly the opposite of this that is done, and the french senate is an extremely feeble, anti-democratic remedy. it represents the rural democracy, arbitrarily guided and governed by the democratic government. * * * * * another remedy which has been given an equally conscientious trial is the system of competitive examination, which is supposed to be a guarantee for the ability of those who seek admission into government service. the object of these examinations, which are extremely detailed and complicated, is to test the ability of the candidate in every particular, to give employment to merit and to exclude favouritism. --you call that an anti-democratic remedy! it is as democratic as well can be!-- nay, pardon! it would be anti-monarchical if we lived under a monarchy, anti-aristocratic if we lived under an aristocracy, and it is anti-democratic because our lot is cast in a democracy. competition for public offices is a sort of co-optation. in fact it is co-optation pure and simple. when i suggested that the magistracy should be chosen by the magistrates, that is, the _cour de cassation_ by the magistrates and the magistrates in turn by the _cour de cassation_, i was of course accused of being paradoxical, as is always the case, when one suggests something contrary to the usual custom. i was, however, only carrying a little further the principle which is already applied to officials. in a certain sense and to a large extent officials recruit their numbers by co-optation. it is true, they do not actually choose the officials, but they eliminate the candidates whom they do not wish to have. examination is ostracism of the inefficient. the government, of course, has to decide who may be candidates, but its selection for employment is limited to those of whom other officials (the officials who conduct the examination) can approve. it is in fact co-optation. the committee of examiners which admits a candidate to st. cyr appoints an officer. the committee which admits a candidate to the _Ã�cole polytechnique_ appoints an officer or an engineer. a committee also which refuses a candidate at either of these places is encroaching on the national sovereignty, because it is forbidding the national sovereignty to make of this young man an officer or an engineer. this is co-optation. this is a guarantee of efficiency. here a wall is raised against incompetence, and against the jobbery under which incompetence would profit. it is hardly necessary for me to add that this co-optation is limited to a very narrow field of operation. it is confined in fact to the threshold of a man's career. once the candidate has been consecrated official, by a board of examining officials, he belongs, both as regards advancement, promotion and the reverse, to the central authority alone, except in certain cases. the co-optation of officials is merely a co-optation by elimination. the elimination is made once and for all, and the non-eliminated (_i.e._, the successful candidate) steps at once into the toils of the government, that is, into the toils of popular electioneering and party politics, when all the abuses which i have enumerated can and do arise. to be fair i had of course to point out that we had tried to invent some slight barriers against the omnipotence of incompetence, which prevent it being absolutely supreme. unfortunately these prophylactic measures are very badly organised, and, far from being capable of amendment, ought to be completely revolutionised. the examination system in our country is founded on a misconception, i mean on the confusion between knowledge and competence. we search conscientiously for competence or efficiency, and we believe that we have found it when we find knowledge, but that is an error. an examination requires from a candidate that he shall know, and competition demands that he shall know more than the others, but that is almost all that examination and competition require of him. therefrom results one of the most painful open sores of our civilisation,--preparation for examinations. preparation for examination is responsible for intellectual indigestion, for minds overloaded with useless information, and for a system of cramming, which at once takes the heart out of men, perhaps with good ability, just at the age when their mental activity is most keen; which, further, as the result of this surfeit, disgusts for the rest of his life and renders impotent for all intellectual effort, the unfortunate patient who has been condemned to undergo this treatment for five, eight, and sometimes ten years of his youth. i am satisfied, if i may be allowed to speak of myself in order to support my argument by an instance well known to me, that, if i have been able to work from the age of twenty-five to that of sixty-three, it is because i have never succeeded except very moderately, and i am proud of it, in competitive examinations. being of a curious turn of mind i have been interested in the subject set in the syllabus, but in other matters also, and the syllabus has been neglected. i sometimes passed, more often i failed, with the result that at twenty-six i was behind my contemporaries, but i was not overworked, broken down, and utterly sick of all intellectual effort. i admit that some of my contemporaries who never failed in an examination, and who passed them all with great brilliance, have worked as hard as i have up to sixty, but they are extremely few. the curious thing is that the results, not perhaps disastrous, but obviously very unsatisfactory, of this examination system do not lead us to abandon it (that perhaps would be an extreme measure), but make us aggravate and complicate it. legal and medical examinations are much "stiffer" than they used to be, and they require a greater physical effort, but without requiring or obtaining any greater intellectual value. in truth, one might say, examination is nothing more than a test of good health, and it is a very searching test, for it often succeeds in destroying it. here is an example which i know well. it is necessary, if a man desire to gain distinction as a professor of secondary education, that he should be a bachelor, a licentiate, an _agrégé_ or a doctor. this is a qualification that counts, and it means ten examinations or competitions, two for the first half of the bachelor's degree, two for the second, two for the licentiate, two for _agrégé_, two for the doctor's degree. this, moreover, does not appear to be enough. between the second part of the bachelor's degree and the licentiate's degree there is normally an interval of two years; between the licentiate and the _agrégation_ two years, and between the _agrégation_ and the doctor's degree there is generally three or four years. you perceive the danger! between the _licence_ and the _agrégation_, to go no further at present, the future professor has two whole years to himself. that is to say, that during the first of these two years he will work alone. he can work freely, he can study in what direction he pleases, without thinking of an examination at the end of twelve months; he has escaped for the moment from the servitude of the syllabus. the prospect makes us shudder with apprehension. it is sadly to be feared that the young man may take a rest and draw breath, or worse still he may be carried into some extraneous study by his personal aptitudes or tastes. the personality of the candidate has here an opening, a moment at which it has a possibility of asserting itself. that must be stopped at all costs. the authorities, therefore, have put in an intermediate examination between the _licence_ and the _agrégation_. the examination, it is true, is on a subject chosen by the candidate himself; so much it is only fair to admit. the subject chosen, however, must be submitted to the professors. their advice and indeed assistance must be invited. the result, if not the object, of this examination is to prevent the candidate, during this perilous year of liberty, from developing original ideas of his own and acting on them. _one examination every year for ten years_--that is the ideal of the modern professor for the future professors who are in course of being trained. between the second part of the bachelor's degree and the licentiate, as there is there an interval of two years, they will presently perceive that there ought to be an examination at the end of the first year, and we shall have certificates of study in intermediate, secondary, higher subjects. between the _agrégation_ and the _doctorat_, there are four years, and naturally we shall want three examinations just to see how the future professor is getting on with his theses, to encumber him with assistance and to prevent him doing them alone; first examination called the _bibliography of the theses for the doctorat_, second examination called the _methodology of the doctorat_, third examination called the _preparation for the sustaining of the thesis_, and then the examination for the doctor's degree itself. in this way the desired object is attained. between the ages of seventeen and twenty-seven or thirty the examinee will have had to undergo sixteen examinations. he will never have worked alone. he will always have worked, for periods of twelve months, on a syllabus, for an examination, with a view of pleasing such and such professors, modelling himself on their views, their conceptions, their general ideas, their eccentricities, aided by them, influenced by them, never knowing, and feeling he ought not to know, not wishing to know, and running a great risk if he did know, and forming habits for his whole life so that he may never know what he thinks himself, what he imagines himself, what he seeks and would like to seek of his own motion, or what he ought himself to try to be. he will take up all this after he is thirty. not a vestige of personality or original thought till the moment when it is too late for it to appear, that is the maxim! whence comes this frenzy, this _examino mania_? when one comes to think of it, it seems to be a simple case of _dandino-mania_. dandin says with great determination "i mean to go and judge." the professor of a certain age means to go and examine. he no longer loves to profess, he loves to be always examining. this is very natural. professing, he is judged; examining, he judges. the one is always much pleasanter than the other. for a professor, to sweat in harness, to feel oneself being examined, that is, criticised, discussed, held up to judgment, and chaffed by an audience of students and amateurs, ceases at a certain age to be altogether pleasant; on the other hand to examine, to sit on the throne with all the majesty of a judge, to have only to criticise and not to produce, to intervene only when the victim stumbles, and to let him know that he has made a slip, to hold the student for the whole year under the salutary terror of an approaching examination, to remind him that he may need help and must by no means displease his professor--all this is very agreeable and makes up for many of the worries of the teaching profession. the examination mania proceeds partly from the terror of being oneself examined, and partly from the pleasure of examining others. all this is true, but there is more than this. the precocious development of early talent and originality is the thing which strangely terrifies these examination-maniacs. they have a horror of the man who teaches himself. they have a horror of any one who ventures to think for himself and to enquire for himself at twenty-five years of age. they want, like an old hen, to mother the young mind as long as possible. they will not let it find its own feet, till very late, and till, as the scoffer might well say, its limbs are absolutely atrophied. i do not say that they are wrong. the man who has taught himself is apt to be a vain, conceited fellow who takes pleasure in thinking for himself, and has an absolute delight in despising the thoughts of others. it is, however, no less the fact, that it is among these self-taught men that we find those vigorous spirits who venture boldly beyond the domain of human science and extend its frontier. the question then is which is best, to favour all these troublesome self-taught people in the hope of finding some good ones among them, or by crossing and worrying them to run the risk of destroying the good as well as the bad. i am myself strongly in favour of the first of these alternatives. it is better to let all go their own way, even though pretenders to originality come to grief, a thing that matters very little. minds that are truly original will develop themselves and find room for the expansion of all their powers. but here,--take note how the democratic spirit comes in everywhere--the question of numbers is raised. ten times more numerous, i am told, are the pretenders to originality whom we save from themselves by discipline than the true geniuses whose wings we clip. i reply that, in matters intellectual, questions of figures do not count. an original spirit strangled is a loss which is not compensated by the rescue of ten fools from worse excesses of folly. an original spirit left free to be himself is worth more than ten fools whose folly is partially restrained. nietzsche has well said: "modern education consists in smothering the exceptional in favour of the normal. it consists in directing the mind away from the exceptional into the channel of the average." this ought not to be. i do not say that education should do the opposite of all this. oh no, far from that. it is not the business of education to look for exceptional genius, or to help in its creation. exceptional genius is born of itself and it has no need of such assistance. but even less is it the business of education to regard the exceptional with terror, and to take every means possible, even the most barbarous and most detailed, to prevent it as long as possible from coming to the light. education ought to draw all that it can out of mediocrity, and to respect originality as much as it can. it ought never to attempt to turn mediocrity into originality, nor to reduce originality to the level of mediocrity. and how can all this be done? by an intervention that is always discreet, and sometimes by non-intervention. at the present moment its policy is equally distant from non-intervention and from an intervention that is discreet. it is in this way that the very institution which we have invented to safeguard efficiency contributes not a little to the triumph of its opposite. these victims of examination are competent in respect of knowledge, instruction and technical proficiency. they are incompetent in respect of intellectual value, often, though perhaps not so often as formerly, in respect of moral value. as far as their intellectual value is concerned, they have very frequently no mental initiative. it has been cramped, hidden away, and trampled down. if it ever existed, it exists now no longer. they are all their days merely instruments. they have been taught many things, especially intellectual obedience. they continue to obey intellectually, their brain acts like well made and well lubricated machinery. "the difference between the novel and the play," said brunetière, "is that in the play the characters act, in the novel they are acted." i do not know if this be true, but of the functionary we might say as often as not, he does not think, he is thought. the official also is incompetent, though less and less often, in respect of moral worth. by the exercise of intellectual obedience, he has been trained to moral obedience also and he is little disposed to assert his independence. observe how everything tends to this end. this method of co-opting officials by means of elimination, as i have said, operates only, as i have also shown, at the outset of the official's career. from this moment onwards the functionary must depend on the government only, his whole preparation during ten years of education has been calculated to ensure his absolute dependence on his official directors. so far good, perhaps a little too good. it would have been well if the education of the functionary had left him, together with a little originality of mind, a little originality of character as well. * * * * * we have sought, very conscientiously also, and, i may even say, with an admirable enthusiasm, yet another remedy for the faults of democracy, another remedy for its incompetence. it is said: "the crowd is incompetent, so be it, it is necessary to enlighten it. primary education, spread broadcast, is the solution of every difficulty, and provides an answer to every question." from this argument aristocrats have derived some little amusement. "how is this?" they exclaimed, "what is the meaning of this paradox? you are democrats and that means that you attribute political excellence, 'political virtue,' as we used to say, to the crowd, that is to ignorance. why then do you wish to enlighten the crowd, that is to destroy the very virtue which, on your own showing, is the cause of its superiority?" the democrats reply that the crowd, even as it is, is already very preferable to aristocracy, and that it will be still more so when it has received instruction. they resolve the apparent contradiction by the argument _a fortiori_. at all events, the democrats set to work most vigorously on the education of the people. the result is that the people is much better educated than formerly, and i am one of those who regard this result as excellent; but the further result is, that the people is saturated with false ideas, and this is less comforting. ancient republics had their demagogues, their orators, who inflamed the evil qualities of the people, by bestowing on them high-sounding names and by flattery. the great democracy of modern times has its demagogues. these are its elementary school teachers. they come of the people, are proud to belong to it, for which of course no one can blame them, they distrust everything that is not the people, they are all the more of the people because among the people they are intellectually in the first rank while elsewhere they are of secondary importance; and what men love is not the group of which they form a part, but the group of which they are the chief. they are, therefore, profoundly democratic. so far nothing could be better. but it is a narrow form of democratic sentiment which they hold, for they are only half-educated, or rather (for who is completely educated or even well educated?), because they have only received a rudimentary education. rudimentary education may perhaps make us capable of having one idea, it certainly renders us incapable of having two. the man of rudimentary education is always the man of one single idea and of one fixed idea. he has few doubts. now the wise man doubts often, the ignorant man seldom, the fool never. the man of one idea is more or less impermeable to any process of reasoning that is foreign to this idea. an indian author has said: "you can convince the wise; you can convince, with more difficulty, the ignorant; the half-educated, never." now no one ever convinces the elementary schoolmaster. he is confirmed in his convictions by defending, and still more by discussing them. he is the slave of his opinion. he does not possess it always quite clearly, but it possesses him. he loves it with all his soul, as a priest his religion, because it is the truth, because it is beautiful, because it has been persecuted, and because it means the salvation of the world. he would enjoy its triumph but he yearns still more to be a martyr in its cause. he is a convinced democrat and a sentimental democrat. his conviction forms a solid basis for his sentiment, and his sentiment kindles to a white heat his conviction. his conviction makes him turn a deaf ear to every objection, his sentiment inspires him with hatred for his adversary. for him the man who is not a democrat is wrong, and further, to him an object of hatred. in his eyes the distance between himself and the aristocrat is as the distance between truth and error, nay between good and evil, between honour and dishonour. the schoolmaster is the fanatic vassal of democracy. then, as he is a man of one idea, he is single-minded, narrowly logical, and logical to the utmost extreme. he goes straight forward where his argument leads. an idea which admits neither qualification nor question can go far in a very short space of time. and the schoolmaster drives all his democratic principles to their natural and logical conclusion. he develops these principles and all that they imply by the sheer force of what he calls his "reasoning reason," and it appears to him to be not only natural but salutary to seek their realisation. everything of which the principle is good is good itself, and no one but montesquieu could ever believe that an institution could be ruined by the excess of the principle in which its merit consists. the schoolmaster, therefore, deduces their logical consequences from the two great democratic principles, the sovereignty of the nation, and equality; he deduces them rigorously, and arrives at the following conclusions. the people alone is sovereign. therefore, though there can be individual liberty and liberty of association, there ought to be only such individual liberty and liberty of association as the people permits. liberty cannot be and ought not to be anything more than a thing tolerated by the sovereign people. the individual may think, speak, write, and act as he pleases, but only so far as the people will allow him; for if he can do these things with absolute freedom, or even with limitations which are not imposed by the people, he becomes the sovereign power, or the power which fixed the limits of his freedom becomes the sovereign, and the sovereignty of the people disappears. this brings us back to the simple definition that liberty is the right to do what we please within the limits of the law. and who makes the law? the people. liberty is then the right to do everything which the people permits us to do. nothing more; if we attempt to go beyond this, the sovereignty of the individual begins, and the sovereignty of the people disappears. --but to have liberty to do only what the people permits, this is to be free as we were under louis xiv.--and that is not to be free at all! so be it. there will indeed be no liberty unless the law permit it. surely you do not wish to be free in opposition to the law? --the law may be tyrannical. it is tyrannical if it is unjust.-- the law has the right to be unjust. otherwise the sovereignty of the people would be limited and this must not be. --fundamental and constitutional laws might be devised to limit this sovereignty of the people in order to guarantee such and such of the liberties for the individual.-- and the people would then be tied! the sovereignty of the people would be suppressed! no, the people cannot be tied. the sovereignty of the people is fundamental and must be left intact. --then there will be no individual liberty?-- only such a measure as the people will tolerate. --then there will be no liberty of association? still less; for an association is in itself a limitation of the sovereignty of the nation. it has its own laws, which from a democratic point of view is an absurd and monstrous incongruity. the right of association limits the national sovereignty, just as would a free town or sanctuary of refuge. it limits the nation, and pulls it up short in face of its closed doors. it is a state within a state; where there is association, there arises at once a source of organisation other than the great organism of the popular will. it is like an animal which lives some sort of independent life within another animal larger than itself and which, living on that other animal, is still independent of it. in fact there can be only one association, the association of the nation, otherwise the sovereignty of the nation is limited, that is, destroyed. no liberty of association can then exist. associations of course will exist which the people will tolerate, but their right of existence is always revocable and they are always liable to be dissolved and destroyed. otherwise the national sovereignty would be held to abdicate and it can never abdicate. --ah! but there is one association, at least, which to some extent is sacred, and which the sovereignty of the people is bound to respect. i mean the family. the father is the head of the family, he educates his children and brings them up as he thinks best, till they come to man's estate.-- nay, that will not pass! for here again we have a limitation of the sovereignty of the nation. the child does not belong to his father. if this were so, at the threshold of each home the sovereignty of the people would be arrested, which means that it would cease to exist anywhere. the child, like the man, belongs to the people. he belongs to it, in the sense that he must not be a member of an association which might dare to think differently from the people, or perhaps even harbour ideas in contradiction to the thought of the people. it would indeed be dangerous to leave our future citizens for twenty years outside the national thought, which is the same thing as being outside the community. imagine five or six bees brought up apart, outside the laws, regulations, and constitution of the hive; imagine further that of these groups of bees there were several hundreds in the hive. the result would be the destruction of the hive. it is _above all things_ in the family that the sovereignty of the people ought to prevail. it ought above all things to refuse to recognise the association of the family, and to wage war against it wherever it finds it. it should leave to parents the right of embracing their children, but nothing more. the right to educate them in ideas perhaps contrary to those of their parents belongs to the people, which, here as well as elsewhere, perhaps even more than elsewhere for the interests at stake are more important, must be absolutely sovereign. this, then, is what the schoolmaster, with a relentless logic which appears to me to be irresistible, deduces from the principle of the national sovereignty. from the principle of equality he deduces another point. "all men are equal by nature and before the law." that is to say, if there were justice, all men ought to have been equal by nature, and further, if there is to be justice, all men ought to be equal before the law. very obviously, however, all men are not equal before the law, and they are not equal by nature. very well then, we must make them so. they are not equal before the law. they appear to be so, but they are not. the rich man, even supposing that the magistrates are perfectly and strictly honest, by reason of the fact that he can remunerate the best solicitors, advocates, and witnesses, by reason further of the fact that he intimidates by his influence all those who could appear against him, is not in every respect the equal of the poor man before the law. even less does this equality exist in the presence of that union of constituted social forces which we call society. in this respect the rich man will be the "influential man"; the "man well connected," the man on whom no one depends, but whom no one likes to cross or to contradict. there is, between the rich and the poor man, however equal we may pretend them to be before the law, the difference between the man who gives orders and the man who is obliged to obey. _real_ equality, in society, in presence of society and even in presence of the law, only exists where there is neither rich nor poor. but there will always be rich and poor, as long as the institution of inheritance remains. abolish inheritance therefore! but, even with inheritance abolished, there will still be rich and poor. the man who can make his fortune rapidly will be a strong man relatively to the man who can not make a fortune, and, i would have you note it, even when we have abolished inheritance, the son of the strong man, during the life of his father, will be strong himself, so that even if we abolish inheritance, a privilege, namely, the privilege of birth will still exist and equality will not exist. there is only one state of affairs under which equality is possible, that is when no one possesses and no one can acquire anything. the only social policy so devised that no one can possess and no one can acquire anything is the policy of a community of goods, that is communism or collectivism. collectivism is nothing very wonderful. collectivism is equality; and equality is collectivism, otherwise our equality will be nothing but a phantom and an hypocrisy. every one who is a convinced and sincere _egalitarian_, and who takes the trouble to think, is forced to be a collectivist. bonald asked very wittily: "do you know what is a deist? it is a man who has not lived long enough to be an atheist." we in our turn ask: "do you know what is an anti-collectivist democrat? it is a man who has not lived long enough to be a collectivist, or who, having lived long enough, has never taken the trouble to think, and to perceive what are the necessary consequences of his own principles." but surely collectivism is a chimæra, an utopia, a thing impossible. certainly it is impossible in the sense that in the country which adopts it the source of all initiative will be destroyed. no man will make an effort to improve his position, since it must never be improved. the whole country will become one of those stagnant pools to which one of our ministers lately referred. everyone having become an official, everyone will realise the ideal of the official which the goncourts have very neatly described. "the good official," they say, "is the man who combines laziness with extreme accuracy." it is a definitive definition. the country that reformed itself in this way would be conquered at the end of ten years by some neighbouring people more or less ambitious. that admits of no question; but what does it prove? that collectivism is only impossible because it is only possible if established in every country at once. very well, and in order to establish it in every country at once, only one thing is needful, namely, that there shall no longer be distinct and separate countries and no longer any nationalities. it surely will not answer to establish collectivism before the abolition of nationalities, since, once established, it will serve no purpose except to bring into prominent relief the vast superiority of countries which have not adopted collectivism. we must, therefore, take our problems in order and abolish nationalities before we can establish collectivism. now if nations organise themselves against nature (the nature that, the schoolmaster assumes, makes all men equal), if instinctively they organise themselves in a hierarchy which is aristocratic, if they have their leaders and their subordinates, their stronger and their weaker members, it is because this arrangement is necessary in a camp, and each nation feels that it is a camp. if each feels that it is a camp, it is simply because there are other nations round it, because it feels and knows that there are others round it. when there are no longer other nations, each nation will organise itself no longer against nature, but naturally, that is to say on _egalitarian_ principles. nature perhaps strictly speaking is not _egalitarian_, but it tends towards equality in the sense that it produces many more, indeed infinitely more, mediocrities than superior intelligences. thus equality demands the abolition of inheritance, and the equality of possessions. equality of possessions necessitates collectivism, and collectivism requires the abolition of nationalities. we are _egalitarians_, then collectivists, and by logical consequence anti-patriots. so argue the great majority of school teachers, with an absolute logic, in my opinion, irrefutable, with the logic which takes no account of facts, and which only takes account of its own principle and of itself. so they will all argue to-morrow, if they continue, as it is probable they will continue, to be very excellent dialecticians. will they go back to the premises and say, that if the sovereignty of the people and equality lead logically and imperatively to these conclusions, it is perhaps because the sovereignty of the people and equality are false ideas, and because these conclusions prove them to be false? this is a course not likely to be taken, for the sovereignty of the people and the principle of equality are something more than general ideas, they are sentiments. they are sentiments which have become ideas, as is the case doubtless with all general ideas, and they are sentiments of great strength. the sovereignty of the people is the truth for him who believes in it, because it ought to be true, because it is a thing as full of majesty for him as was cæsar in all his pomp for the ancient roman, or louis xiv. in all his glory for the man of the seventeenth century. equality is truth for him who believes, because it ought to be true, because it is justice, and because it would be infamous if justice and truth were not one. for the democrat, the world has ever been rising gradually, since its creation, towards the sovereignty of the people and the doctrine of equality; the latter contains the former, the former is destined to found the latter and has this mission for its purpose in life; together they constitute civilisation, and if they are not attained, there is a relapse into barbarism. they are dogmas of faith. a dogma is an overmastering sentiment which has found expression in a formula. from these two dogmas everything that can be deduced without breach of logic is truth which it is our right and duty to proclaim. we must add that the schoolmaster is urged in this same direction by sentiments of a less general character, which nevertheless have an influence of their own. he is placed in his commune in direct opposition to the priest, the only person very often who is, like himself, in that place a man of some little education. hence rivalry and a struggle for influence. now the priest, by a series of historical incidents, is a more or less warm partisan sometimes of monarchy but almost always of aristocracy. he is a member of a body that once was an estate of the realm, and he is persuaded that his corporation is still an estate of the realm, notwithstanding all that has happened. if the existing order is regulated by the _concordat_, the existing order recognises his corporation as a body legitimatised by the state, since it treats it on the same terms as the magistracy and the army. if the existing order is one based on the separation of state and church, his corporation appears to him still more to be an estate of the realm, because being forced into an attitude of solid organisation, and recognising no limitations of frontier, it becomes a collective personage which, not without peril, but also not without a certain measure of success, has often ventured to cross swords with the state itself. as the priest then belongs to an order endowed with an historic authority which is nevertheless distinct from, and in no wise a delegation from, the authority of the people, the priest cannot fail more or less definitely and consciously to adopt an attitude of mind favourable to aristocracy. the school teacher, his rival, is thrown then all the more inevitably towards the adoption of democratic principles, and he embraces them with a fervour into which enters jealousy quite as much as conviction. they mean more to him than even to an eighteenth century philosopher, because he has a much greater personal interest in believing them, the interest of personal dislike and animosity; for it is his belief that everything taught by the priest is the pure invention of ingenious oppressors who wish to enslave the people in order to consolidate their own tyranny; and that is his reason for professing philosophical ideas resuscitated from the teaching of diderot, and holbach. for the school teacher it is almost inconceivable that the priest should be anything but a rascal. "atheism is aristocratic," said robespierre, thinking of rousseau. atheism is democratic, say our present-day school teachers. whence comes this difference of opinion? first because it was fashionable among the great lords of the eighteenth century to be libertines and free-thinkers, but among the people the belief in god was unanimous. secondly, because the priests of our day, for the reasons which i have given and from remembrance of the persecutions suffered by their church at the date of the first triumphs of democracy, have remained aristocrats or have become so even more firmly than they ever were before. atheism then has become democratic as a weapon against the deists who are generally aristocrats. besides, atheism fits in very well, whatever robespierre may have thought, with the general sentiments of the baser demagogy. to be restrained by nothing, to be limited by nothing, that is the dominant idea of the people, or rather it is the dominant idea of the democrat for the people, that it should be restrained by nothing and limited by nothing in its sovereign power. now god is a limit, god is a restraint. and just as the democrat will not admit of a secular constitution which the people could not destroy and which would prevent him from making bad laws; just as the democrat will not submit--if we may adopt the terminology of aristotle--to being governed by _laws_, to be governed that is by an ancient body of law which would check the people and obstruct it in its daily fabrication of _decrees_; so just in the same spirit the democrat does not admit of a god who has issued his commandments, who has issued his body of laws, anterior and superior to all the laws and all the decrees of men, and who sets his limit on the legislative eccentricities of the people, on its capricious omnipotence, in a word, on the sovereignty of the people. after sedan, bismarck was asked: "now that napoleon has fallen, on whom do you make war?" he replied: "on louis xiv." so the democrat questioned on his atheism could reply: "i am warring against moses." this is the origin of the atheism of democrats and schoolmasters. this is the origin of the formula: "neither god nor master," which for the anarchist requires no correction nor supplement, which for the democrat has only to be modified: "neither god nor master, save the people." at the end of one of his great political speeches in or , victor hugo said: "in the future there will only be two powers; the people and god." the modern democrat has persuaded himself that if there be a god, the sovereignty of the people is infringed, if he believe in him. lastly, the school teacher is confirmed in his democratic sentiments, in all his democratic sentiments, by the political position which has been made for him in france. it is a strange thing, a disconcerting anomaly, that the governments of the nineteenth century (especially, we must do it this justice, the present government), have very handsomely respected the liberty of professors of higher education, and of secondary education, and have not in the very slightest degree respected the liberty of the teachers of elementary education. the professor of higher education, especially since , can teach exactly what he pleases, except immorality and contempt of our country and its laws. he can even discuss our laws, provided always that he maintains the principle that, such as they are, they ought to be obeyed till they are repealed. his liberty as to his opinions political, social and religious is complete. it is only occasionally constrained by the disorderly demonstrations of his students. the professor of secondary education enjoys a liberty almost equally wide. he is subject, but only in an extremely liberal fashion, to a programme or syllabus of studies. as to the spirit in which he conducts his work he is practically never molested. he is given a free hand. nor has it ever occurred to any government to ask a professor of higher and secondary education how he votes at political elections, still less to require him to canvass in favour of the candidates agreeable to the government. when, however, we pass to elementary education we see everything is changed. the elementary teacher is not appointed by his natural chief, the _recteur_ or minister of public education, he is appointed by the _préfet_, that is by the minister of the interior, the political head of the government. in other words, this is the same process as the appointment of officials by the people, described a few pages back, but with one intermediary the less. it is pre-eminently the minister of the interior who represents the political will of the nation at any given date. and it is the minister of the interior who through his _préfets_ appoints the elementary school teacher. it is then the political will of the nation which chooses the school teachers. it would be impossible to convey to them more clearly (which is only fair, for people should be made to understand their duties) that they are chosen for considerations of politics and that they ought to consider themselves as political agents. and indeed they are nothing else, or perhaps we should say they are something else but above all they are politicians. the schoolteachers depend on the _préfets_ and the _préfets_ depend much on the deputies, yet it is not the deputies who appoint them, but it is they who can remove them, who can get them promoted or disgraced, who by constant removals can reduce them to destitution. surely, every candid person will exclaim, given the difficult and scandalous situation in which they are put by the hand which appoints them, they ought at least to have the guarantee and assurance, very relative and ineffectual though it be, of irremovability. but they have not got it. the professors of higher education who do not require it have got it, the professors of secondary education have it to all intents and purposes. the elementary school teacher has it not. he is, therefore, delivered over to the politicians who make of him an electioneering agent, who reckon him as such, and who would never pardon him if he failed them. the result is that the majority of school teachers are demagogues because they like it, and with magnificent enthusiasm and passion. the minority who have no turn for demagogy are demagogues though they do not like it, and because they are forced by necessity. even those who have no disposition that way become demagogues in the end, for that is the way of the world. "in the heat of the _mêlée_," said augier, "there are no mercenaries." our school teachers, thrown, sometimes against their will, into the battle, forced at least to appear to be fighting, receive knocks and when they have received them, they become attached to the cause on whose behalf they have suffered. we always end by having the opinions which are attributed to us, and being taken for a demagogue the moment he arrives at his village, the young school teacher, not daring to say anything to the contrary, and being very ill received by all other parties, naturally becomes a demagogue with some show of conviction the very next year. * * * * * so the democracy receives no instruction that does not confirm and strengthen it in its errors. for its good some one ought to teach it not to believe itself omnipotent, to have scruples as to its omnipotence, and to believe that this omnipotence should have defined limits; it is taught without reserve the dogma of the unlimited sovereignty of the people. for its good it should believe that equality is so contrary to nature that we have no right to torture nature in order to establish real equality among men, and that the people which has established such a state of things, which is quite possible, must succumb to the fate of those who try to live exactly in opposition to the laws of nature. instead, it is taught, and it is true enough, that equality is not possible, if it is not complete, if it is not thorough, that it ought to be applied to differences of fortune, social position, intelligence, perhaps even to our stature and personal appearance, and that no effort should be spared to bring all things to one absolute level. for its good, since it is natural enough that it should dislike heavy taxation, sentiments of patriotism should be reinforced; it is taught on the contrary that military service is a painful legacy left by a hateful and barbarous past, and that it ought to disappear very soon before the warming rays of a peaceful civilisation. in a word, to use again the language of aristotle, the pure wine of democracy is poured out to the people as it was by the demagogues to the athenians; and from the quarter whence a remedy might have been expected there come only incitements to deeper intoxication. aristotle has made yet another wise and profound observation on the question of equality: "_we must establish equality_," he said, "_in the passions rather than in the fortunes of men._" and he adds: "and this equality can only be the fruit of education derived from the influence of good laws." that is indeed the point. education should have but one object; to reduce the passions to equality, or rather to _equanimity_, and to a certain equilibrium of mind. the education given to modern democracy does not lead to this, but leads in the opposite direction. chapter xii. the dream. what remedies can we apply to this modern disease, the worship of intellectual and moral incompetence? what is, as m. fouillée puts it, the best way of avoiding the hidden rocks which threaten democracies? it is hard to say, for we have to do with an evil which can only be cured by itself, with an evil which is more than content with itself. m. fouillée (in the _revue des deux mondes_ of november, ) proposes an aristocratic upper chamber, that is to say, one that would represent all the competence of the country, inasmuch as it would be appointed by everything which is based on some particular form of excellence, the magistracy, the army, the university, the chambers of commerce, and so on. nothing could be better; but the consent of the democracy would be necessary, and it is precisely these incorporations of efficiency that the democracy cannot abide, looking on them, not without reason, as being in a sense aristocracies. he proposes also an energetic intervention on the part of the state to restore public morality, action for the suppression of alcoholism, gambling and pornography. beyond the fact that his argument savours of reaction, for it recalls to us the programme of "moral order" of , we must remark, as indeed m. fouillée himself acknowledges, that the democratic state can hardly afford to kill the thing which enables it to live, to destroy its principal source of revenue. democracy, as its most authoritative representatives have admitted, is not a cheap form of government. it has always been instituted with the hope, and partly with the expressed design, of being an economical government, and it has always been ruinous, because it requires a much larger number of partisans than other forms of government, and a smaller number of malcontents than other forms of government, and these partisans have to be remunerated in one fashion or another and the malcontents have to be silenced and bought in one way or another. democracy, whether ancient or modern, lives always in terror of tyrants who are always imminent or thought by it to be imminent. against this possible tyrant who would govern with an energetic minority, the democracy requires an immense majority which it has to bind to it by the grant of many favours; it has also to detach from this tyrant the malcontents who would be his supporters if it did not disarm them by a still more lavish distribution of favours. democracy requires therefore plenty of money. it will find this by despoiling the wealthy as much as possible; but this is a very limited source of revenue, for the wealthy are not a numerous class. it will find it more easily, more abundantly also, by exploiting the vices of all, for all is a very numerous group. hence the complaisance shown to drinking shops, which, as m. fouillée remarks, it would be more dangerous for the government to close than to close the churches. as the needs of the government increase, as m. fouillée predicts, without much doubt it will claim a monopoly in houses of ill-fame and in the publication of indecent literature; enterprises in which there would be money. and after all, tolerating such things for the profit of certain traders and annexing them to be worked for the profit of the state, is surely much the same thing from a moral point of view. and the financial operation would be much more beneficent in the second case than in the first. m. fouillée also argues that reform must come "from above and not from below," and that "the movement for regeneration can come from above and not from below." i ask nothing better, but i ask also how is it going to be done? inasmuch as everything depends upon the people, who, what, can influence the people except the people itself? everything depends on the people, by what then can it be moved except by a force that is innate. we are here confronted--we are talking to a philosopher and can make use of scientific terms--with a {kinêtês akinêtos} with a motive force which causes but does not receive motives. a principle has disappeared, a prejudice if you like to call it so, the prejudice in favour of competence. we no longer think that the man who understands how to do a thing ought to be doing that thing, or ought to be chosen to do it. hence, not only is everything mismanaged, but it seems impossible by any device to handle the matter effectually. we see no solution. nietzsche really has a horror of democracy; only like all energetic pessimists, who are not mere triflers, he used to say from time to time: "there are pessimists who are resigned and cowardly. we do not wish to be like them." when he would not take this view he persuaded himself to look at democracy through rose-coloured spectacles. at times, looking at the matter from an æsthetic point of view, he used to say: "intercourse with the people is as indispensable and refreshing as the contemplation of vigorous and healthy vegetation," and although this is in flagrant contradiction to all he has elsewhere said of the "bestial flock" and the "inhabitants of the swamp," the thought has a certain amount of sense in it. it signifies that instinct is a force, and that every force must be interesting to study; and further that, as such, it contains an active virtue, a principle of life, a nucleus of growth. this, though vaguely expressed, is very possible. after all the crowd is only powerful by reason of numbers, and because it has been decided that numbers shall decide. it is an expedient; but an expedient cannot impart force to a thing that had it not before. motive power, initiative, belongs to the man who has a plan, who makes his combination to achieve it, who perseveres and is patient and does not relinquish pursuit. if he is eliminated and reduced to impotence or to a minimum of usefulness, one does not see how the crowd, without him, can obtain its power of initiation. further explanation is needed. at another time, nietzsche asks whether we ought not to respect the right, which after all belongs to the multitude, to direct itself according to an ideal--there are of course many ideals--and according to the ideal which is its own. ought we to refuse to the masses the right to search out truth for themselves, the right to believe that they have found it when they come upon a faith that seems to them vital, a faith that is to them as their very life? the masses are the foundation on which all humanity rests, the basis of all culture. deprived of them, what would become of the masters? it is to their interest that the masses should be happy. let us be patient; let us grant to our insurgent slaves, our masters for the moment, the enjoyment of illusions which seem favourable to them. so nietzsche argues, but more often, for he returns on various occasions to this idea, led thereto by his customary aristocratic leanings, he speaks of democracy as of a form of decadence, as a necessary prelude to an aristocracy of the future. "a high civilisation can only be built upon a wide expanse of territory, upon a healthy and firmly consolidated mediocrity." [so he wrote in . ten years earlier he held that slavery had been the necessary condition of the high civilisation of greece and rome.] the only end, therefore, which at present, provisionally of course but still for a long time to come, we have to expect, must be the decadence of mankind--general decadence to a level mediocrity, for it is necessary to have a wide foundation on which a race of strong men can be reared. "the decadence of the european is the great process which we cannot hinder, which we ought rather to accelerate. it is the active cause at work which gives us hope of seeing the rise of a stronger race, a race which will possess in abundance those same qualities which are lacking to the degenerate vanishing species, strength of will, responsibility, self-reliance, the power of concentration...." but how, out of this mediocrity of the crowd, a mediocrity which, as nietzsche says, is always increasing, by what process natural or artificial can a new and superior race be created? nietzsche seems to be recalling the theory, very disrespectful and very devoid of filial piety, by which renan sought to explain his own genius. "a long line of obscure ancestors," he says, "has economised for me a store of intellectual energy," and he jots down in his note book certain suggestions, a little immature but still emitting a ray of light. "it is absurd," he says, "to imagine that this victory or survival of values (that is low values, values, that is, that seem to be mediocrity) can be antibiological: we must look for an explanation in the fact that they are probably of some vital importance to the maintenance of the type 'man' in the event of its being threatened by a preponderance of the feeble-minded and degenerate. perhaps if things went otherwise, man would now be an extinct animal. the elevation of type is dangerous for the preservation of the species. why? _strong races are wasteful, we find ourselves here confronted with a problem of economy._" we perceive, in this train of reasoning, some inkling of what nietzsche is trying to formulate as his solution of the difficulty. what is needed must be a natural process, a _vis medicatrix naturæ_. in the process of declining and falling, races practise a sort of thrift; they save and they economise. then, if we may suppose that the quantity of energy of intellectual and moral power, _i.e._, of "human values" at the disposal of the race is constant, the races that so act are creating in themselves a reserve which one day will irresistibly take shape in a chosen class. they are creating in their own bosom an _élite_ which will one day emerge, they have conceived all unconsciously an aristocracy which will one day be born to be their ruler. we always find in nietzsche the theory of schopenhauer, the theory of the great deceiver who leads the human race by the nose and who makes it do and, as if it liked it, that which it would never do if it knew where it was being led. it is very possible; still it remains that economy carried to an extreme, though it can lead to a reserve of force, may also lead, and perhaps much more surely, to a condition of anæmia; the annihilation of one set of competent people in order to prepare the way for races of competent people in the future, i do not know if this is a game inspired by the great deceiver, but it is a game which to me appears dangerous. we ought to be sure (and who is sure?) that the great deceiver does not abandon those who abandon themselves. i have often said, without thinking of any metaphysical mythology, thinking indeed of the ambitious people whom we meet everywhere, and thinking only of giving them some good advice: "the best way to get there is to come down." nothing could be more philosophical, nietzsche would reply; it is even more true of peoples than of individuals: the best way for peoples to become one day great is to begin by growing smaller. i rather doubt it. there is no really solid reason to support the theory that feebleness cultivated with perseverance results in strength. neither greece nor rome supply examples, nor did the democratic republic of athens nor the democratic cæsarism of rome ever succeed in giving birth to an aristocracy of competence by a prolonged economy of values. --they did not have the time.-- ah yes, there is always that to be said. it would perhaps be better to try to put the brake on democracy than to encourage this process of degeneration on the chance of a favourable resurrection. at least this is the course which presents itself most naturally to our mind, and which seems most consonant with duty. when i say put the brake on democracy, it must be understood that i mean that it should put the brake on itself, for nothing else can stop it, when once it has made up its mind. it must be persuaded or left alone, and even persuasion is a rash experiment, for it dislikes being persuaded of anything but of its own omnipotence. it must be persuaded or left alone, for every other method would be still more useless. it must be reminded that forms of government perish from the abandonment and also from the exaggeration of the principle from which their merit is derived, though this is a very superannuated maxim; that they perish by an abandonment of their principle because that principle is the historical reason of their coming into existence, and they perish by carrying their principle to excess, because there is no such thing as a principle that is absolutely good and sufficient in itself for regulating the complexity of the social machine. what do we understand by the principle of a government? it is not that which makes it be such and such a thing, but that "which makes it act" in a particular way, as montesquieu has remarked; that is, "the human passions which supply the motive forces of life." it is clear then that the passion for sovereignty, for equality, for incompetence, is not sufficient to give to a government a life which is at once complete and strong. it is necessary to give to competence its part, or rather it is necessary to give competence one part, for i do not wish to argue that there is any question of right involved, i only affirm that it is a social necessity. it is necessary that competence, technical, intellectual, moral competence should be assigned its part to play, even though the sovereignty of the people should be limited and the principle of equality be somewhat abridged thereby. a democratic element is essentially necessary to a people, an aristocratic element also is essentially necessary to a people. a democratic element is essentially necessary to a people in order that the people should not feel itself to be a mere onlooker, but should realise that it is a part and an important part of the body social, and that the words "you are the nation, defend it," have a meaning. otherwise the argument of the anti-patriot demagogues would be just. "what is the good of fighting for one set of masters against another set, since it will make no difference, only a change of masters?" a democratic element is required in the government of a people, because it is very dangerous that the people should be an enigma. it is necessary to know what it thinks, what it feels, what it suffers, what it desires, what it fears, and what it hopes, and as this can only be learnt from the people itself, it is necessary that it should have a voice which can make itself heard. this should be done in one way or another, either by a chamber of its own which should be endowed with great authority, or by the presence in a single chamber of a considerable number of representatives of the people, or by plebiscites constitutionally instituted as necessary for the revision of the constitution and for laws of universal interest, or by the liberty of the press and the liberty of association and public meeting. this would not perhaps be enough, but it would be almost enough. it is necessary that the people should be able to make known its wants, and to influence the decisions of the government, in a word its voice should be heard and considered. an aristocratic element is also necessary in a nation and in the government of a nation so that all that admits of precision shall not be smothered by that which is confused; so that what is exact shall not be obscured by what is vague, and so that its firm resolves shall not be shaken by vacillating and incoherent caprice. sometimes history itself makes an aristocracy--a fortunate circumstance for a nation! this forms a caste more or less exclusive, it has traditions, traditions more conservative of the laws than the laws themselves, and it embodies in itself all that there is of life, and energy and growth in the soul of a people. sometimes history has failed to give us an aristocracy or that which history has made has disappeared. it is then that the people ought to draw one out of itself, it is then its duty to appropriate and preserve the high qualities to be found in men who have rendered service to the state or whose ancestors have rendered service to the state, who have special qualifications for each particular office and a moral efficiency for every form of public service. these qualities constitute the acquired aptitude of an aristocracy for taking a part in the government; these qualities constitute its adaptation to its social environment, and to its special function in our social machinery and organisation. one might say that it is by these qualities that _it enters into and becomes part of the organism of which it is the material_. as john stuart mill has justly remarked, there cannot be an expert, well-managed democracy if democracy will not allow the expert to do the work which he alone can do. what is wanted then and will always be wanted, even under socialism where, as i pointed out, there will still be an aristocracy though a more numerous one, is a blending of democracy and aristocracy; and here, though he wrote a long time ago, we shall find aristotle is always right for he studied in a scientific spirit some hundred and fifty different constitutions. he is an aristocrat, without concealment, as we have seen, but his final conclusions, whether he is speaking of lacedæmon, which he did not like, or of carthage, or in general terms, have always been in favour of mixed constitutions as ever the best. "there is," he says, "a manner of combining democracy and aristocracy--which consists in so arranging matters that both the distinguished citizens and the masses have what they want. the right of every man to aspire to magisterial appointments is a democratic principle, but the admission of distinguished citizens only is an aristocratic principle." this blending of democracy and aristocracy makes a good constitution, but the union must not be one of mere juxtaposition which would serve only to put hostile elements within striking distance. i said a "blending" but the blending must be a real fusion. our need is that in the management of public business aristocracy and democracy should be combined. how? well for many years i have been saying it and i hope i may live for many years longer to say it again. a healthy nation is one in which the aristocracy is "_demophil_," that is a lover of the people, and where the people is aristocratic in its leanings. every people where the aristocracy is aristocratic and where the democracy is democratic is a people destined to perish promptly, because it does not understand what a people is, it has not got beyond the stage of knowing what is a class and perhaps not even as far as that. montesquieu praises highly the athenians and the romans for the following reason. "at rome, although the people had the right of elevating plebeians to office, it could never bring itself to elect them; and although at athens, it could by the law of aristides, choose magistrates from all classes, it never happened according to xenophon, that the lower people demanded the election of rulers who could injure its safety and its glory. the two instances are identical; only, as far as athens is concerned, it signifies nothing, for at athens everything was decided by plebiscite and in consequence the real rulers of athens were the orators, in whom the people trusted, who enforced their decisions and really governed the city. at rome the fact is of great importance for it was the elected magistrates who governed." republican rome was indeed a country aristocratically governed which had, however, a democratic element in its constitution, and this democratic element, up to the time of the civil wars, was itself profoundly aristocratic, just as the aristocracy which was always open to an accession of members from the plebs was profoundly "demophil." the institution of patron and client, even in the state of degeneracy which overtook it, is a phenomenon which i believe is well-nigh unique. it shows to what extent two classes felt the social necessity, the patriotic necessity of mutual support and of a recognition of an identity of interest. a nation whose people is aristocratic and whose aristocracy is "demophil" is a healthy nation. rome succeeded in the world because for five hundred years she enjoyed this social health. an aristocratic people and a people-loving aristocracy. i had long believed the formula was of my own invention. i have just discovered, and i am in no way surprised, that aristotle was before me. he quotes the oath which oligarchs take in certain cities. "i swear to be always the enemy of the people and never to counsel any thing that i do not know to be injurious to them." "this," he continues, "is the very opposite of what they ought to do or to pretend to do ... it is a political fault which is often committed in oligarchies as well as in democracies, and where the multitude has control of the laws, the demagogues make this mistake. in their combat against the rich, they always divide the state into two opposing parties. _in a democracy, on the contrary, the government should profess to speak for the rich, and in oligarchies it should profess to speak in favour of the people._" it is a machiavelian counsel. aristotle seems convinced that democrats can only _profess_ to speak for the rich and that all we can expect from oligarchs is an appearance of speaking in favour of the people. nevertheless he recognises clearly that for the peace and well-being of the commonwealth such should be their attitude. there is something more profound than this. aristocrats ought not only to appear but to be verily favourable to the demos, if they understand the interests of aristocracy itself, for aristocracy requires a base. democrats also ought not only to appear but to be aristocratic if they understand the interests of democracy which requires a guide. this reciprocity of good offices, this reciprocity of devotion, and this combination of effort are as necessary in modern as they were in ancient republics. it is, and we must coin a word to express it, a social "synergy" that is wanted. a union of all the vitalizing elements is as necessary in society as in the family. every family that is divided must perish, every kingdom that is divided must perish. i have said little of royalty which only indirectly concerns my subject. if we have seen instances of the institution of royalty firmly established, it is where the sentiment of royalty, appealing at once both to the aristocracy and to the people, has realised that "synergy" of the whole community of which we speak; it is where both, being united in devotion to one object, are led to be devoted to each other by reason of this convergence of their wills. _eadem velle, eadem nolle amicitia est._ there is no need of royalty for this. royalty is our country itself personified in one man. in the identification of country and kingdom, we can and must arrive at this same union of the separate vitalities of the nation, at this same community and convergence of will. the humble must love their country in loving the great and the great must love their country in loving the humble; and so all classes must be at one in their hopes and in their fears. _amicitia sit!_ index. abbeville, abolition of inheritance, , academies, america, amoeba, _et seq._ antisthenes, aristides, law of, aristocracy, , , , ---- aptitude for government, ---- constitution which obeys laws, ---- demophil, , , ---- education under, ---- and examination system, ---- fusion with democracy, - ---- impossible without merit, ---- old men under, ---- of parliament, ---- permanent senators form, ---- and religion, , ---- result of indirect election, ----- and special jurisdictions, aristophanes, , aristotle, , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , _arrondissement_, ---- _scrutin d'_, atheism, , athens, , , , , , , , , augier, austria, barthélemy, abbé, barthou, m., , belgium, bismarck, bonald, brunetière, busiris, calas, carnot, carthage, , caucus, chamber of deputies, , , - charlemagne, charondas, church, the, , cicero, ---- _de senectute_, civility, _et seq._ civil service, the, appointments to, - ---- examinations for, _et seq._ clergy, the, code, the, , , colbert, collectivism, - communism, _compétence par collation_, , competitive examination, _et seq._ conciliation boards, _concordat_, constitution of , ---- mixed, co-optation, _cour de cassation_, , , , court of appeal, , courts, ecclesiastical, ---- martial, criminal procedure, ---- jurisdiction, dandin, _dandino-mania_, decadence, , decrees, , , , demagogues, , , democracy, aristotle on, - ---- athenian, ---- children under, - ---- and direct government, _et seq._ democracy, encouragement of incompetence under, , , ---- english, ---- evolution of a modern, _et seq._ ---- fusion with aristocracy, - ---- governed by decrees, , ---- and imperative mandate, ---- lack of respect under, - ---- legislation under, , - ---- magistrature, - ---- montesquieu on, - ---- morality under, ---- nietzsche on, - ---- old men under, - ---- plato on, - ---- and politicians, , ---- position of women under, - ---- principle of, , ---- and private enterprise, - ---- and reform, - ---- rousseau on, , ---- and schoolmasters, - ---- and socialism, - ---- and special jurisdictions, , demos, , demosthenes, deputy, , ---- mayors, despotism, principle of, ---- tendency of democracy towards, , , d'etalonde, diderot, division of labour, ---- ---- in domestic life, divorce, germans, gerontocracy, , gladstone, mr., , goncourt, greece, , greeks, , , greek philosophers, holbach, homer, horace, hugo, victor, ideal legislator, the, imperative mandate, , indirect election, inequalities, artificial and natural, interpellation, italy, japy, mme., jesuits in paraguay, joannès, baron, judges, appointment of, , - ---- interpretation of the law, _juge de paix_, , _et seq._ jurisdiction, criminal, ---- ecclesiastical, ---- military, ---- seignorial, jury, the - , , kant, la barre, lacedæmon, , law, abolishing primogeniture, ---- abuse of, ---- of competence, ---- and decrees, - ---- degree in, ---- doctors of, ---- ecclesiastical, ---- emergency, - ---- fundamental, ---- governs men, ---- of july th, , ---- made by the ideal legislator, - ---- made by the people, , , , , - , ---- must be ancient and unchanged, - ---- not the same for rich and poor, ---- permitting divorce, ---- of proportion, ---- questions of, , ---- of sunday observance, , ---- and tradition, legal profession, the, legislation, ancient, ---- english, , ---- party, - ---- philanthropic, ---- predatory, ---- requires special knowledge, , legislator, essential qualifications for, - ---- greek, lestranger, m. marcel, , liberty of association, , louis xiv, , , , , , ---- xv, ---- xvi, louvois, lycurgus, , , lynching, , machiavel, machiavelian counsel, magistracy, hereditary system advocated for, , , magistrates, election of, , - ---- incompetence of, - ---- subservience to government, mayors, medical examinations, ---- profession, mill, john stuart, minister of agriculture, ---- of commerce, ---- of education, , minister of interior, ---- of justice, , - ---- of navy, ---- of war, , miscarriage of justice, monarchy, old men under, ---- principle of, , , montesquieu, , , , , , - , - , - , - , , , , - , , , moral effect of law, ---- order, morals, high standard of, ---- laxity of, ---- private, , ---- public, , , more, thomas, moses, , napoleon, , , nationalisation, nietzsche, , , - oligarchy, , , olympiad, ostracism, paraguay, parental authority, parliament, party system under socialism, pascal, , patriotism, , peel, sir r., periander, peter the great, phædo, personification of laws in, plato, , , - , , , plautus, plebiscite, , _pli professionnel, le_, pnyx, the, politeness, _et seq._ politician, definition of, ---- democracy's need of, , ---- as schoolmaster, _préfet_, - , , president of the chamber, ---- of the council, ---- of the republic, , primogeniture, _procureur-général_, , , - proudhon, public officials, appointment of, - ---- under socialism, purchase system, the, quinet, edgar, rabelais, republic, , , renaissance, renan, renouvier, revocation of the edict of nantes, rhédi, robespierre, , roman republic, , , , romans, the, , , rome, , , , , - rousseau, , , - , , , , royalty, , ---- democratic, st. cyr, st. louis, schopenhauer, _scrutin de liste_, , , and note ---- _d'arrondissement_, senate, , , , , - senators, , - ---- irremovable, seneca, socialism, - , socrates, , ---- on democracy, solon, , sovereignty of the people, , , , , - , - , specialisation of functions, - , special jurisdictions, , state control of children, ---- ---- of magistrates, , ---- ---- of private enterprise, - ---- danger of eminent man to, - ---- intervention to restore public morality, - state policy, ---- services rendered to, ---- within a state, steinheil case, suidas, , sunday observance, sylla, synergy, , terence, thrasybulus, toulouse, tyranny, universal suffrage, , - university degrees, , - upper chamber, suggestions for strong, usbek, virtue, civic, , , ---- the principle of a republic, , voltaire, - , women, their position in a democracy, - xenophon, , young man, horace's description of, _printed by sherratt & hughes, london and manchester._ ********************************************************************** this ebook was one of project gutenberg's early files produced at a time when proofing methods and tools were not well developed. there is an improved edition of this title which may be viewed at ebook (# ) ********************************************************************** the republic by plato ( b.c.) translated by benjamin jowett the introduction the republic of plato is the longest of his works with the exception of the laws, and is certainly the greatest of them. there are nearer approaches to modern metaphysics in the philebus and in the sophist; the politicus or statesman is more ideal; the form and institutions of the state are more clearly drawn out in the laws; as works of art, the symposium and the protagoras are of higher excellence. but no other dialogue of plato has the same largeness of view and the same perfection of style; no other shows an equal knowledge of the world, or contains more of those thoughts which are new as well as old, and not of one age only but of all. nowhere in plato is there a deeper irony or a greater wealth of humor or imagery, or more dramatic power. nor in any other of his writings is the attempt made to interweave life and speculation, or to connect politics with philosophy. the republic is the centre around which the other dialogues may be grouped; here philosophy reaches the highest point to which ancient thinkers ever attained. plato among the greeks, like bacon among the moderns, was the first who conceived a method of knowledge, although neither of them always distinguished the bare outline or form from the substance of truth; and both of them had to be content with an abstraction of science which was not yet realized. he was the greatest metaphysical genius whom the world has seen; and in him, more than in any other ancient thinker, the germs of future knowledge are contained. the sciences of logic and psychology, which have supplied so many instruments of thought to after-ages, are based upon the analyses of socrates and plato. the principles of definition, the law of contradiction, the fallacy of arguing in a circle, the distinction between the essence and accidents of a thing or notion, between means and ends, between causes and conditions; also the division of the mind into the rational, concupiscent, and irascible elements, or of pleasures and desires into necessary and unnecessary--these and other great forms of thought are all of them to be found in the republic, and were probably first invented by plato. the greatest of all logical truths, and the one of which writers on philosophy are most apt to lose sight, the difference between words and things, has been most strenuously insisted on by him, although he has not always avoided the confusion of them in his own writings. but he does not bind up truth in logical formulae,--logic is still veiled in metaphysics; and the science which he imagines to "contemplate all truth and all existence" is very unlike the doctrine of the syllogism which aristotle claims to have discovered. neither must we forget that the republic is but the third part of a still larger design which was to have included an ideal history of athens, as well as a political and physical philosophy. the fragment of the critias has given birth to a world-famous fiction, second only in importance to the tale of troy and the legend of arthur; and is said as a fact to have inspired some of the early navigators of the sixteenth century. this mythical tale, of which the subject was a history of the wars of the athenians against the island of atlantis, is supposed to be founded upon an unfinished poem of solon, to which it would have stood in the same relation as the writings of the logographers to the poems of homer. it would have told of a struggle for liberty, intended to represent the conflict of persia and hellas. we may judge from the noble commencement of the timaeus, from the fragment of the critias itself, and from the third book of the laws, in what manner plato would have treated this high argument. we can only guess why the great design was abandoned; perhaps because plato became sensible of some incongruity in a fictitious history, or because he had lost his interest in it, or because advancing years forbade the completion of it; and we may please ourselves with the fancy that had this imaginary narrative ever been finished, we should have found plato himself sympathizing with the struggle for hellenic independence, singing a hymn of triumph over marathon and salamis, perhaps making the reflection of herodotus where he contemplates the growth of the athenian empire--"how brave a thing is freedom of speech, which has made the athenians so far exceed every other state of hellas in greatness!" or, more probably, attributing the victory to the ancient good order of athens and to the favor of apollo and athene. again, plato may be regarded as the "captain" ('arhchegoz') or leader of a goodly band of followers; for in the republic is to be found the original of cicero's de republica, of st. augustine's city of god, of the utopia of sir thomas more, and of the numerous other imaginary states which are framed upon the same model. the extent to which aristotle or the aristotelian school were indebted to him in the politics has been little recognized, and the recognition is the more necessary because it is not made by aristotle himself. the two philosophers had more in common than they were conscious of; and probably some elements of plato remain still undetected in aristotle. in english philosophy too, many affinities may be traced, not only in the works of the cambridge platonists, but in great original writers like berkeley or coleridge, to plato and his ideas. that there is a truth higher than experience, of which the mind bears witness to herself, is a conviction which in our own generation has been enthusiastically asserted, and is perhaps gaining ground. of the greek authors who at the renaissance brought a new life into the world plato has had the greatest influence. the republic of plato is also the first treatise upon education, of which the writings of milton and locke, rousseau, jean paul, and goethe are the legitimate descendants. like dante or bunyan, he has a revelation of another life; like bacon, he is profoundly impressed with the unity of knowledge; in the early church he exercised a real influence on theology, and at the revival of literature on politics. even the fragments of his words when "repeated at second-hand" have in all ages ravished the hearts of men, who have seen reflected in them their own higher nature. he is the father of idealism in philosophy, in politics, in literature. and many of the latest conceptions of modern thinkers and statesmen, such as the unity of knowledge, the reign of law, and the equality of the sexes, have been anticipated in a dream by him. argument the argument of the republic is the search after justice, the nature of which is first hinted at by cephalus, the just and blameless old man--then discussed on the basis of proverbial morality by socrates and polemarchus--then caricatured by thrasymachus and partially explained by socrates--reduced to an abstraction by glaucon and adeimantus, and having become invisible in the individual reappears at length in the ideal state which is constructed by socrates. the first care of the rulers is to be education, of which an outline is drawn after the old hellenic model, providing only for an improved religion and morality, and more simplicity in music and gymnastic, a manlier strain of poetry, and greater harmony of the individual and the state. we are thus led on to the conception of a higher state, in which "no man calls anything his own," and in which there is neither "marrying nor giving in marriage," and "kings are philosophers" and "philosophers are kings;" and there is another and higher education, intellectual as well as moral and religious, of science as well as of art, and not of youth only but of the whole of life. such a state is hardly to be realized in this world and would quickly degenerate. to the perfect ideal succeeds the government of the soldier and the lover of honor, this again declining into democracy, and democracy into tyranny, in an imaginary but regular order having not much resemblance to the actual facts. when "the wheel has come full circle" we do not begin again with a new period of human life; but we have passed from the best to the worst, and there we end. the subject is then changed and the old quarrel of poetry and philosophy which had been more lightly treated in the earlier books of the republic is now resumed and fought out to a conclusion. poetry is discovered to be an imitation thrice removed from the truth, and homer, as well as the dramatic poets, having been condemned as an imitator, is sent into banishment along with them. and the idea of the state is supplemented by the revelation of a future life. the division into books, like all similar divisions, is probably later than the age of plato. the natural divisions are five in number;--( ) book i and the first half of book ii down to the paragraph beginning, "i had always admired the genius of glaucon and adeimantus," which is introductory; the first book containing a refutation of the popular and sophistical notions of justice, and concluding, like some of the earlier dialogues, without arriving at any definite result. to this is appended a restatement of the nature of justice according to common opinion, and an answer is demanded to the question--what is justice, stripped of appearances? the second division ( ) includes the remainder of the second and the whole of the third and fourth books, which are mainly occupied with the construction of the first state and the first education. the third division ( ) consists of the fifth, sixth, and seventh books, in which philosophy rather than justice is the subject of inquiry, and the second state is constructed on principles of communism and ruled by philosophers, and the contemplation of the idea of good takes the place of the social and political virtues. in the eighth and ninth books ( ) the perversions of states and of the individuals who correspond to them are reviewed in succession; and the nature of pleasure and the principle of tyranny are further analyzed in the individual man. the tenth book ( ) is the conclusion of the whole, in which the relations of philosophy to poetry are finally determined, and the happiness of the citizens in this life, which has now been assured, is crowned by the vision of another. or a more general division into two parts may be adopted; the first (books i-iv) containing the description of a state framed generally in accordance with hellenic notions of religion and morality, while in the second (books v-x) the hellenic state is transformed into an ideal kingdom of philosophy, of which all other governments are the perversions. these two points of view are really opposed, and the opposition is only veiled by the genius of plato. the republic, like the phaedrus, is an imperfect whole; the higher light of philosophy breaks through the regularity of the hellenic temple, which at last fades away into the heavens. whether this imperfection of structure arises from an enlargement of the plan; or from the imperfect reconcilement in the writer's own mind of the struggling elements of thought which are now first brought together by him; or, perhaps, from the composition of the work at different times--are questions, like the similar question about the iliad and the odyssey, which are worth asking, but which cannot have a distinct answer. in the age of plato there was no regular mode of publication, and an author would have the less scruple in altering or adding to a work which was known only to a few of his friends. there is no absurdity in supposing that he may have laid his labors aside for a time, or turned from one work to another; and such interruptions would be more likely to occur in the case of a long than of a short writing. in all attempts to determine the chronological he order of the platonic writings on internal evidence, this uncertainty about any single dialogue being composed at one time is a disturbing element, which must be admitted to affect longer works, such as the republic and the laws, more than shorter ones. but, on the other hand, the seeming discrepancies of the republic may only arise out of the discordant elements which the philosopher has attempted to unite in a single whole, perhaps without being himself able to recognize the inconsistency which is obvious to us. for there is a judgment of after ages which few great writers have ever been able to anticipate for themselves. they do not perceive the want of connection in their own writings, or the gaps in their systems which are visible enough to those who come after them. in the beginnings of literature and philosophy, amid the first efforts of thought and language, more inconsistencies occur than now, when the paths of speculation are well worn and the meaning of words precisely defined. for consistency, too, is the growth of time; and some of the greatest creations of the human mind have been wanting in unity. tried by this test, several of the platonic dialogues, according to our modern ideas, appear to be defective, but the deficiency is no proof that they were composed at different times or by different hands. and the supposition that the republic was written uninterruptedly and by a continuous effort is in some degree confirmed by the numerous references from one part of the work to another. the second title, "concerning justice," is not the one by which the republic is quoted, either by aristotle or generally in antiquity, and, like the other second titles of the platonic dialogues, may therefore be assumed to be of later date. morgenstern and others have asked whether the definition of justice, which is the professed aim, or the construction of the state is the principal argument of the work. the answer is, that the two blend in one, and are two faces of the same truth; for justice is the order of the state, and the state is the visible embodiment of justice under the conditions of human society. the one is the soul and the other is the body, and the greek ideal of the state, as of the individual, is a fair mind in a fair body. in hegelian phraseology the state is the reality of which justice is the ideal. or, described in christian language, the kingdom of god is within, and yet develops into a church or external kingdom; "the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens," is reduced to the proportions of an earthly building. or, to use a platonic image, justice and the state are the warp and the woof which run through the whole texture. and when the constitution of the state is completed, the conception of justice is not dismissed, but reappears under the same or different names throughout the work, both as the inner law of the individual soul, and finally as the principle of rewards and punishments in another life. the virtues are based on justice, of which common honesty in buying and selling is the shadow, and justice is based on the idea of good, which is the harmony of the world, and is reflected both in the institutions of states and in motions of the heavenly bodies. the timaeus, which takes up the political rather than the ethical side of the republic, and is chiefly occupied with hypotheses concerning the outward world, yet contains many indications that the same law is supposed to reign over the state, over nature, and over man. too much, however, has been made of this question both in ancient and in modern times. there is a stage of criticism in which all works, whether of nature or of art, are referred to design. now in ancient writings, and indeed in literature generally, there remains often a large element which was not comprehended in the original design. for the plan grows under the author's hand; new thoughts occur to him in the act of writing; he has not worked out the argument to the end before he begins. the reader who seeks to find some one idea under which the whole may be conceived, must necessarily seize on the vaguest and most general. thus stallbaum, who is dissatisfied with the ordinary explanations of the argument of the republic, imagines himself to have found the true argument "in the representation of human life in a state perfected by justice and governed according to the idea of good." there may be some use in such general descriptions, but they can hardly be said to express the design of the writer. the truth is, that we may as well speak of many designs as of one; nor need anything be excluded from the plan of a great work to which the mind is naturally led by the association of ideas, and which does not interfere with the general purpose. what kind or degree of unity is to be sought after in a building, in the plastic arts, in poetry, in prose, is a problem which has to be determined relatively to the subject-matter. to plato himself, the inquiry "what was the intention of the writer," or "what was the principal argument of the republic" would have been hardly intelligible, and therefore had better be at once dismissed. is not the republic the vehicle of three or four great truths which, to plato's own mind, are most naturally represented in the form of the state? just as in the jewish prophets the reign of messiah, or "the day of the lord," or the suffering servant or people of god, or the "sun of righteousness with healing in his wings" only convey, to us at least, their great spiritual ideals, so through the greek state plato reveals to us his own thoughts about divine perfection, which is the idea of good--like the sun in the visible world;--about human perfection, which is justice--about education beginning in youth and continuing in later years--about poets and sophists and tyrants who are the false teachers and evil rulers of mankind--about "the world" which is the embodiment of them--about a kingdom which exists nowhere upon earth but is laid up in heaven to be the pattern and rule of human life. no such inspired creation is at unity with itself, any more than the clouds of heaven when the sun pierces through them. every shade of light and dark, of truth, and of fiction which is the veil of truth, is allowable in a work of philosophical imagination. it is not all on the same plane; it easily passes from ideas to myths and fancies, from facts to figures of speech. it is not prose but poetry, at least a great part of it, and ought not to be judged by the rules of logic or the probabilities of history. the writer is not fashioning his ideas into an artistic whole; they take possession of him and are too much for him. we have no need therefore to discuss whether a state such as plato has conceived is practicable or not, or whether the outward form or the inward life came first into the mind of the writer. for the practicability of his ideas has nothing to do with their truth; and the highest thoughts to which he attains may be truly said to bear the greatest "marks of design"--justice more than the external frame-work of the state, the idea of good more than justice. the great science of dialectic or the organization of ideas has no real content; but is only a type of the method or spirit in which the higher knowledge is to be pursued by the spectator of all time and all existence. it is in the fifth, sixth, and seventh books that plato reaches the "summit of speculation," and these, although they fail to satisfy the requirements of a modern thinker, may therefore be regarded as the most important, as they are also the most original, portions of the work. it is not necessary to discuss at length a minor question which has been raised by boeckh, respecting the imaginary date at which the conversation was held (the year b. c. which is proposed by him will do as well as any other); for a writer of fiction, and especially a writer who, like plato, is notoriously careless of chronology, only aims at general probability. whether all the persons mentioned in the republic could ever have met at any one time is not a difficulty which would have occurred to an athenian reading the work forty years later, or to plato himself at the time of writing (any more than to shakespeare respecting one of his own dramas); and need not greatly trouble us now. yet this may be a question having no answer "which is still worth asking," because the investigation shows that we can not argue historically from the dates in plato; it would be useless therefore to waste time in inventing far-fetched reconcilements of them in order avoid chronological difficulties, such, for example, as the conjecture of c. f. hermann, that glaucon and adeimantus are not the brothers but the uncles of plato, or the fancy of stallbaum that plato intentionally left anachronisms indicating the dates at which some of his dialogues were written. characters the principal characters in the republic are cephalus, polemarchus, thrasymachus, socrates, glaucon, and adeimantus. cephalus appears in the introduction only, polemarchus drops at the end of the first argument, and thrasymachus is reduced to silence at the close of the first book. the main discussion is carried on by socrates, glaucon, and adeimantus. among the company are lysias (the orator) and euthydemus, the sons of cephalus and brothers of polemarchus, an unknown charmantides--these are mute auditors; also there is cleitophon, who once interrupts, where, as in the dialogue which bears his name, he appears as the friend and ally of thrasymachus. cephalus, the patriarch of house, has been appropriately engaged in offering a sacrifice. he is the pattern of an old man who has almost done with life, and is at peace with himself and with all mankind. he feels that he is drawing nearer to the world below, and seems to linger around the memory of the past. he is eager that socrates should come to visit him, fond of the poetry of the last generation, happy in the consciousness of a well-spent life, glad at having escaped from the tyranny of youthful lusts. his love of conversation, his affection, his indifference to riches, even his garrulity, are interesting traits of character. he is not one of those who have nothing to say, because their whole mind has been absorbed in making money. yet he acknowledges that riches have the advantage of placing men above the temptation to dishonesty or falsehood. the respectful attention shown to him by socrates, whose love of conversation, no less than the mission imposed upon him by the oracle, leads him to ask questions of all men, young and old alike, should also be noted. who better suited to raise the question of justice than cephalus, whose life might seem to be the expression of it? the moderation with which old age is pictured by cephalus as a very tolerable portion of existence is characteristic, not only of him, but of greek feeling generally, and contrasts with the exaggeration of cicero in the de senectute. the evening of life is described by plato in the most expressive manner, yet with the fewest possible touches. as cicero remarks (ep. ad attic. iv. ), the aged cephalus would have been out of place in the discussion which follows, and which he could neither have understood nor taken part in without a violation of dramatic propriety. his "son and heir" polemarchus has the frankness and impetuousness of youth; he is for detaining socrates by force in the opening scene, and will not "let him off" on the subject of women and children. like cephalus, he is limited in his point of view, and represents the proverbial stage of morality which has rules of life rather than principles; and he quotes simonides as his father had quoted pindar. but after this he has no more to say; the answers which he makes are only elicited from him by the dialectic of socrates. he has not yet experienced the influence of the sophists like glaucon and adeimantus, nor is he sensible of the necessity of refuting them; he belongs to the pre-socratic or pre-dialectical age. he is incapable of arguing, and is bewildered by socrates to such a degree that he does not know what he is saying. he is made to admit that justice is a thief, and that the virtues follow the analogy of the arts. from his brother lysias we learn that he fell a victim to the thirty tyrants, but no allusion is here made to his fate, nor to the circumstance that cephalus and his family were of syracusan origin, and had migrated from thurii to athens. the "chalcedonian giant," thrasymachus, of whom we have already heard in the phaedrus, is the personification of the sophists, according to plato's conception of them, in some of their worst characteristics. he is vain and blustering, refusing to discourse unless he is paid, fond of making an oration, and hoping thereby to escape the inevitable socrates; but a mere child in argument, and unable to foresee that the next "move" (to use a platonic expression) will "shut him up." he has reached the stage of framing general notions, and in this respect is in advance of cephalus and polemarchus. but he is incapable of defending them in a discussion, and vainly tries to cover his confusion in banter and insolence. whether such doctrines as are attributed to him by plato were really held either by him or by any other sophist is uncertain; in the infancy of philosophy serious errors about morality might easily grow up--they are certainly put into the mouths of speakers in thucydides; but we are concerned at present with plato's description of him, and not with the historical reality. the inequality of the contest adds greatly to the humor of the scene. the pompous and empty sophist is utterly helpless in the hands of the great master of dialectic, who knows how to touch all the springs of vanity and weakness in him. he is greatly irritated by the irony of socrates, but his noisy and imbecile rage only lays him more and more open to the thrusts of his assailant. his determination to cram down their throats, or put "bodily into their souls" his own words, elicits a cry of horror from socrates. the state of his temper is quite as worthy of remark as the process of the argument. nothing is more amusing than his complete submission when he has been once thoroughly beaten. at first he seems to continue the discussion with reluctance, but soon with apparent good-will, and he even testifies his interest at a later stage by one or two occasional remarks. when attacked by glaucon he is humorously protected by socrates "as one who has never been his enemy and is now his friend." from cicero and quintilian and from aristotle's rhetoric we learn that the sophist whom plato has made so ridiculous was a man of note whose writings were preserved in later ages. the play on his name which was made by his contemporary herodicus, "thou wast ever bold in battle," seems to show that the description of him is not devoid of verisimilitude. when thrasymachus has been silenced, the two principal respondents, glaucon and adeimantus, appear on the scene: here, as in greek tragedy, three actors are introduced. at first sight the two sons of ariston may seem to wear a family likeness, like the two friends simmias and cebes in the phaedo. but on a nearer examination of them the similarity vanishes, and they are seen to be distinct characters. glaucon is the impetuous youth who can "just never have enough of fechting" (cf. the character of him in xen. mem. iii. ); the man of pleasure who is acquainted with the mysteries of love; the "juvenis qui gaudet canibus," and who improves the breed of animals; the lover of art and music who has all the experiences of youthful life. he is full of quickness and penetration, piercing easily below the clumsy platitudes of thrasymachus to the real difficulty; he turns out to the light the seamy side of human life, and yet does not lose faith in the just and true. it is glaucon who seizes what may be termed the ludicrous relation of the philosopher to the world, to whom a state of simplicity is "a city of pigs," who is always prepared with a jest when the argument offers him an opportunity, and who is ever ready to second the humor of socrates and to appreciate the ridiculous, whether in the connoisseurs of music, or in the lovers of theatricals, or in the fantastic behavior of the citizens of democracy. his weaknesses are several times alluded to by socrates, who, however, will not allow him to be attacked by his brother adeimantus. he is a soldier, and, like adeimantus, has been distinguished at the battle of megara. the character of adeimantus is deeper and graver, and the profounder objections are commonly put into his mouth. glaucon is more demonstrative, and generally opens the game. adeimantus pursues the argument further. glaucon has more of the liveliness and quick sympathy of youth; adeimantus has the maturer judgment of a grown-up man of the world. in the second book, when glaucon insists that justice and injustice shall be considered without regard to their consequences, adeimantus remarks that they are regarded by mankind in general only for the sake of their consequences; and in a similar vein of reflection he urges at the beginning of the fourth book that socrates falls in making his citizens happy, and is answered that happiness is not the first but the second thing, not the direct aim but the indirect consequence of the good government of a state. in the discussion about religion and mythology, adeimantus is the respondent, but glaucon breaks in with a slight jest, and carries on the conversation in a lighter tone about music and gymnastic to the end of the book. it is adeimantus again who volunteers the criticism of common sense on the socratic method of argument, and who refuses to let socrates pass lightly over the question of women and children. it is adeimantus who is the respondent in the more argumentative, as glaucon in the lighter and more imaginative portions of the dialogue. for example, throughout the greater part of the sixth book, the causes of the corruption of philosophy and the conception of the idea of good are discussed with adeimantus. then glaucon resumes his place of principal respondent; but he has a difficulty in apprehending the higher education of socrates, and makes some false hits in the course of the discussion. once more adeimantus returns with the allusion to his brother glaucon whom he compares to the contentious state; in the next book he is again superseded, and glaucon continues to the end. thus in a succession of characters plato represents the successive stages of morality, beginning with the athenian gentleman of the olden time, who is followed by the practical man of that day regulating his life by proverbs and saws; to him succeeds the wild generalization of the sophists, and lastly come the young disciples of the great teacher, who know the sophistical arguments but will not be convinced by them, and desire to go deeper into the nature of things. these too, like cephalus, polemarchus, thrasymachus, are clearly distinguished from one another. neither in the republic, nor in any other dialogue of plato, is a single character repeated. the delineation of socrates in the republic is not wholly consistent. in the first book we have more of the real socrates, such as he is depicted in the memorabilia of xenophon, in the earliest dialogues of plato, and in the apology. he is ironical, provoking, questioning, the old enemy of the sophists, ready to put on the mask of silenus as well as to argue seriously. but in the sixth book his enmity towards the sophists abates; he acknowledges that they are the representatives rather than the corrupters of the world. he also becomes more dogmatic and constructive, passing beyond the range either of the political or the speculative ideas of the real socrates. in one passage plato himself seems to intimate that the time had now come for socrates, who had passed his whole life in philosophy, to give his own opinion and not to be always repeating the notions of other men. there is no evidence that either the idea of good or the conception of a perfect state were comprehended in the socratic teaching, though he certainly dwelt on the nature of the universal and of final causes (cp. xen. mem. i. ; phaedo ); and a deep thinker like him in his thirty or forty years of public teaching, could hardly have falled to touch on the nature of family relations, for which there is also some positive evidence in the memorabilia (mem. i. , foll.) the socratic method is nominally retained; and every inference is either put into the mouth of the respondent or represented as the common discovery of him and socrates. but any one can see that this is a mere form, of which the affectation grows wearisome as the work advances. the method of inquiry has passed into a method of teaching in which by the help of interlocutors the same thesis is looked at from various points of view. the nature of the process is truly characterized by glaucon, when he describes himself as a companion who is not good for much in an investigation, but can see what he is shown, and may, perhaps, give the answer to a question more fluently than another. neither can we be absolutely certain that, socrates himself taught the immortality of the soul, which is unknown to his disciple glaucon in the republic; nor is there any reason to suppose that he used myths or revelations of another world as a vehicle of instruction, or that he would have banished poetry or have denounced the greek mythology. his favorite oath is retained, and a slight mention is made of the daemonium, or internal sign, which is alluded to by socrates as a phenomenon peculiar to himself. a real element of socratic teaching, which is more prominent in the republic than in any of the other dialogues of plato, is the use of example and illustration ('taphorhtika auto prhospherhontez'): "let us apply the test of common instances." "you," says adeimantus, ironically, in the sixth book, "are so unaccustomed to speak in images." and this use of examples or images, though truly socratic in origin, is enlarged by the genius of plato into the form of an allegory or parable, which embodies in the concrete what has been already described, or is about to be described, in the abstract. thus the figure of the cave in book vii is a recapitulation of the divisions of knowledge in book vi. the composite animal in book ix is an allegory of the parts of the soul. the noble captain and the ship and the true pilot in book vi are a figure of the relation of the people to the philosophers in the state which has been described. other figures, such as the dog in the second, third, and fourth books, or the marriage of the portionless maiden in the sixth book, or the drones and wasps in the eighth and ninth books, also form links of connection in long passages, or are used to recall previous discussions. plato is most true to the character of his master when he describes him as "not of this world." and with this representation of him the ideal state and the other paradoxes of the republic are quite in accordance, though they can not be shown to have been speculations of socrates. to him, as to other great teachers both philosophical and religious, when they looked upward, the world seemed to be the embodiment of error and evil. the common sense of mankind has revolted against this view, or has only partially admitted it. and even in socrates himself the sterner judgment of the multitude at times passes into a sort of ironical pity or love. men in general are incapable of philosophy, and are therefore at enmity with the philosopher; but their misunderstanding of him is unavoidable: for they have never seen him as he truly is in his own image; they are only acquainted with artificial systems possessing no native force of truth--words which admit of many applications. their leaders have nothing to measure with, and are therefore ignorant of their own stature. but they are to be pitied or laughed at, not to be quarrelled with; they mean well with their nostrums, if they could only learn that they are cutting off a hydra's head. this moderation towards those who are in error is one of the most characteristic features of socrates in the republic. in all the different representations of socrates, whether of xenophon or plato, and the differences of the earlier or later dialogues, he always retains the character of the unwearied and disinterested seeker after truth, without which he would have ceased to be socrates. leaving the characters we may now analyze the contents of the republic, and then proceed to consider ( ) the general aspects of this hellenic ideal of the state, ( ) the modern lights in which the thoughts of plato may be read. book i socrates - glaucon i went down yesterday to the piraeus with glaucon the son of ariston, that i might offer up my prayers to the goddess; and also because i wanted to see in what manner they would celebrate the festival, which was a new thing. i was delighted with the procession of the inhabitants; but that of the thracians was equally, if not more, beautiful. when we had finished our prayers and viewed the spectacle, we turned in the direction of the city; and at that instant polemarchus the son of cephalus chanced to catch sight of us from a distance as we were starting on our way home, and told his servant to run and bid us wait for him. the servant took hold of me by the cloak behind, and said: polemarchus desires you to wait. i turned round, and asked him where his master was. there he is, said the youth, coming after you, if you will only wait. certainly we will, said glaucon; and in a few minutes polemarchus appeared, and with him adeimantus, glaucon's brother, niceratus the son of nicias, and several others who had been at the procession. socrates - polemarchus - glaucon - adeimantus polemarchus said to me: i perceive, socrates, that you and our companion are already on your way to the city. you are not far wrong, i said. but do you see, he rejoined, how many we are? of course. and are you stronger than all these? for if not, you will have to remain where you are. may there not be the alternative, i said, that we may persuade you to let us go? but can you persuade us, if we refuse to listen to you? he said. certainly not, replied glaucon. then we are not going to listen; of that you may be assured. adeimantus added: has no one told you of the torch-race on horseback in honour of the goddess which will take place in the evening? with horses! i replied: that is a novelty. will horsemen carry torches and pass them one to another during the race? yes, said polemarchus, and not only so, but a festival will he celebrated at night, which you certainly ought to see. let us rise soon after supper and see this festival; there will be a gathering of young men, and we will have a good talk. stay then, and do not be perverse. glaucon said: i suppose, since you insist, that we must. very good, i replied. glaucon - cephalus - socrates accordingly we went with polemarchus to his house; and there we found his brothers lysias and euthydemus, and with them thrasymachus the chalcedonian, charmantides the paeanian, and cleitophon the son of aristonymus. there too was cephalus the father of polemarchus, whom i had not seen for a long time, and i thought him very much aged. he was seated on a cushioned chair, and had a garland on his head, for he had been sacrificing in the court; and there were some other chairs in the room arranged in a semicircle, upon which we sat down by him. he saluted me eagerly, and then he said:-- you don't come to see me, socrates, as often as you ought: if i were still able to go and see you i would not ask you to come to me. but at my age i can hardly get to the city, and therefore you should come oftener to the piraeus. for let me tell you, that the more the pleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me is the pleasure and charm of conversation. do not then deny my request, but make our house your resort and keep company with these young men; we are old friends, and you will be quite at home with us. i replied: there is nothing which for my part i like better, cephalus, than conversing with aged men; for i regard them as travellers who have gone a journey which i too may have to go, and of whom i ought to enquire, whether the way is smooth and easy, or rugged and difficult. and this is a question which i should like to ask of you who have arrived at that time which the poets call the 'threshold of old age'--is life harder towards the end, or what report do you give of it? i will tell you, socrates, he said, what my own feeling is. men of my age flock together; we are birds of a feather, as the old proverb says; and at our meetings the tale of my acquaintance commonly is--i cannot eat, i cannot drink; the pleasures of youth and love are fled away: there was a good time once, but now that is gone, and life is no longer life. some complain of the slights which are put upon them by relations, and they will tell you sadly of how many evils their old age is the cause. but to me, socrates, these complainers seem to blame that which is not really in fault. for if old age were the cause, i too being old, and every other old man, would have felt as they do. but this is not my own experience, nor that of others whom i have known. how well i remember the aged poet sophocles, when in answer to the question, how does love suit with age, sophocles,--are you still the man you were? peace, he replied; most gladly have i escaped the thing of which you speak; i feel as if i had escaped from a mad and furious master. his words have often occurred to my mind since, and they seem as good to me now as at the time when he uttered them. for certainly old age has a great sense of calm and freedom; when the passions relax their hold, then, as sophocles says, we are freed from the grasp not of one mad master only, but of many. the truth is, socrates, that these regrets, and also the complaints about relations, are to be attributed to the same cause, which is not old age, but men's characters and tempers; for he who is of a calm and happy nature will hardly feel the pressure of age, but to him who is of an opposite disposition youth and age are equally a burden. i listened in admiration, and wanting to draw him out, that he might go on--yes, cephalus, i said: but i rather suspect that people in general are not convinced by you when you speak thus; they think that old age sits lightly upon you, not because of your happy disposition, but because you are rich, and wealth is well known to be a great comforter. you are right, he replied; they are not convinced: and there is something in what they say; not, however, so much as they imagine. i might answer them as themistocles answered the seriphian who was abusing him and saying that he was famous, not for his own merits but because he was an athenian: 'if you had been a native of my country or i of yours, neither of us would have been famous.' and to those who are not rich and are impatient of old age, the same reply may be made; for to the good poor man old age cannot be a light burden, nor can a bad rich man ever have peace with himself. may i ask, cephalus, whether your fortune was for the most part inherited or acquired by you? acquired! socrates; do you want to know how much i acquired? in the art of making money i have been midway between my father and grandfather: for my grandfather, whose name i bear, doubled and trebled the value of his patrimony, that which he inherited being much what i possess now; but my father lysanias reduced the property below what it is at present: and i shall be satisfied if i leave to these my sons not less but a little more than i received. that was why i asked you the question, i replied, because i see that you are indifferent about money, which is a characteristic rather of those who have inherited their fortunes than of those who have acquired them; the makers of fortunes have a second love of money as a creation of their own, resembling the affection of authors for their own poems, or of parents for their children, besides that natural love of it for the sake of use and profit which is common to them and all men. and hence they are very bad company, for they can talk about nothing but the praises of wealth. that is true, he said. yes, that is very true, but may i ask another question? what do you consider to be the greatest blessing which you have reaped from your wealth? one, he said, of which i could not expect easily to convince others. for let me tell you, socrates, that when a man thinks himself to be near death, fears and cares enter into his mind which he never had before; the tales of a world below and the punishment which is exacted there of deeds done here were once a laughing matter to him, but now he is tormented with the thought that they may be true: either from the weakness of age, or because he is now drawing nearer to that other place, he has a clearer view of these things; suspicions and alarms crowd thickly upon him, and he begins to reflect and consider what wrongs he has done to others. and when he finds that the sum of his transgressions is great he will many a time like a child start up in his sleep for fear, and he is filled with dark forebodings. but to him who is conscious of no sin, sweet hope, as pindar charmingly says, is the kind nurse of his age: hope, he says, cherishes the soul of him who lives in justice and holiness and is the nurse of his age and the companion of his journey;--hope which is mightiest to sway the restless soul of man. how admirable are his words! and the great blessing of riches, i do not say to every man, but to a good man, is, that he has had no occasion to deceive or to defraud others, either intentionally or unintentionally; and when he departs to the world below he is not in any apprehension about offerings due to the gods or debts which he owes to men. now to this peace of mind the possession of wealth greatly contributes; and therefore i say, that, setting one thing against another, of the many advantages which wealth has to give, to a man of sense this is in my opinion the greatest. well said, cephalus, i replied; but as concerning justice, what is it?--to speak the truth and to pay your debts--no more than this? and even to this are there not exceptions? suppose that a friend when in his right mind has deposited arms with me and he asks for them when he is not in his right mind, ought i to give them back to him? no one would say that i ought or that i should be right in doing so, any more than they would say that i ought always to speak the truth to one who is in his condition. you are quite right, he replied. but then, i said, speaking the truth and paying your debts is not a correct definition of justice. cephalus - socrates - polemarchus quite correct, socrates, if simonides is to be believed, said polemarchus interposing. i fear, said cephalus, that i must go now, for i have to look after the sacrifices, and i hand over the argument to polemarchus and the company. is not polemarchus your heir? i said. to be sure, he answered, and went away laughing to the sacrifices. socrates - polemarchus tell me then, o thou heir of the argument, what did simonides say, and according to you truly say, about justice? he said that the repayment of a debt is just, and in saying so he appears to me to be right. i should be sorry to doubt the word of such a wise and inspired man, but his meaning, though probably clear to you, is the reverse of clear to me. for he certainly does not mean, as we were now saying that i ought to return a return a deposit of arms or of anything else to one who asks for it when he is not in his right senses; and yet a deposit cannot be denied to be a debt. true. then when the person who asks me is not in his right mind i am by no means to make the return? certainly not. when simonides said that the repayment of a debt was justice, he did not mean to include that case? certainly not; for he thinks that a friend ought always to do good to a friend and never evil. you mean that the return of a deposit of gold which is to the injury of the receiver, if the two parties are friends, is not the repayment of a debt,--that is what you would imagine him to say? yes. and are enemies also to receive what we owe to them? to be sure, he said, they are to receive what we owe them, and an enemy, as i take it, owes to an enemy that which is due or proper to him--that is to say, evil. simonides, then, after the manner of poets, would seem to have spoken darkly of the nature of justice; for he really meant to say that justice is the giving to each man what is proper to him, and this he termed a debt. that must have been his meaning, he said. by heaven! i replied; and if we asked him what due or proper thing is given by medicine, and to whom, what answer do you think that he would make to us? he would surely reply that medicine gives drugs and meat and drink to human bodies. and what due or proper thing is given by cookery, and to what? seasoning to food. and what is that which justice gives, and to whom? if, socrates, we are to be guided at all by the analogy of the preceding instances, then justice is the art which gives good to friends and evil to enemies. that is his meaning then? i think so. and who is best able to do good to his friends and evil to his enemies in time of sickness? the physician. or when they are on a voyage, amid the perils of the sea? the pilot. and in what sort of actions or with a view to what result is the just man most able to do harm to his enemy and good to his friends? in going to war against the one and in making alliances with the other. but when a man is well, my dear polemarchus, there is no need of a physician? no. and he who is not on a voyage has no need of a pilot? no. then in time of peace justice will be of no use? i am very far from thinking so. you think that justice may be of use in peace as well as in war? yes. like husbandry for the acquisition of corn? yes. or like shoemaking for the acquisition of shoes,--that is what you mean? yes. and what similar use or power of acquisition has justice in time of peace? in contracts, socrates, justice is of use. and by contracts you mean partnerships? exactly. but is the just man or the skilful player a more useful and better partner at a game of draughts? the skilful player. and in the laying of bricks and stones is the just man a more useful or better partner than the builder? quite the reverse. then in what sort of partnership is the just man a better partner than the harp-player, as in playing the harp the harp-player is certainly a better partner than the just man? in a money partnership. yes, polemarchus, but surely not in the use of money; for you do not want a just man to be your counsellor the purchase or sale of a horse; a man who is knowing about horses would be better for that, would he not? certainly. and when you want to buy a ship, the shipwright or the pilot would be better? true. then what is that joint use of silver or gold in which the just man is to be preferred? when you want a deposit to be kept safely. you mean when money is not wanted, but allowed to lie? precisely. that is to say, justice is useful when money is useless? that is the inference. and when you want to keep a pruning-hook safe, then justice is useful to the individual and to the state; but when you want to use it, then the art of the vine-dresser? clearly. and when you want to keep a shield or a lyre, and not to use them, you would say that justice is useful; but when you want to use them, then the art of the soldier or of the musician? certainly. and so of all the other things;--justice is useful when they are useless, and useless when they are useful? that is the inference. then justice is not good for much. but let us consider this further point: is not he who can best strike a blow in a boxing match or in any kind of fighting best able to ward off a blow? certainly. and he who is most skilful in preventing or escaping from a disease is best able to create one? true. and he is the best guard of a camp who is best able to steal a march upon the enemy? certainly. then he who is a good keeper of anything is also a good thief? that, i suppose, is to be inferred. then if the just man is good at keeping money, he is good at stealing it. that is implied in the argument. then after all the just man has turned out to be a thief. and this is a lesson which i suspect you must have learnt out of homer; for he, speaking of autolycus, the maternal grandfather of odysseus, who is a favourite of his, affirms that he was excellent above all men in theft and perjury. and so, you and homer and simonides are agreed that justice is an art of theft; to be practised however 'for the good of friends and for the harm of enemies,'--that was what you were saying? no, certainly not that, though i do not now know what i did say; but i still stand by the latter words. well, there is another question: by friends and enemies do we mean those who are so really, or only in seeming? surely, he said, a man may be expected to love those whom he thinks good, and to hate those whom he thinks evil. yes, but do not persons often err about good and evil: many who are not good seem to be so, and conversely? that is true. then to them the good will be enemies and the evil will be their friends? true. and in that case they will be right in doing good to the evil and evil to the good? clearly. but the good are just and would not do an injustice? true. then according to your argument it is just to injure those who do no wrong? nay, socrates; the doctrine is immoral. then i suppose that we ought to do good to the just and harm to the unjust? i like that better. but see the consequence:--many a man who is ignorant of human nature has friends who are bad friends, and in that case he ought to do harm to them; and he has good enemies whom he ought to benefit; but, if so, we shall be saying the very opposite of that which we affirmed to be the meaning of simonides. very true, he said: and i think that we had better correct an error into which we seem to have fallen in the use of the words 'friend' and 'enemy.' what was the error, polemarchus? i asked. we assumed that he is a friend who seems to be or who is thought good. and how is the error to be corrected? we should rather say that he is a friend who is, as well as seems, good; and that he who seems only, and is not good, only seems to be and is not a friend; and of an enemy the same may be said. you would argue that the good are our friends and the bad our enemies? yes. and instead of saying simply as we did at first, that it is just to do good to our friends and harm to our enemies, we should further say: it is just to do good to our friends when they are good and harm to our enemies when they are evil? yes, that appears to me to be the truth. but ought the just to injure any one at all? undoubtedly he ought to injure those who are both wicked and his enemies. when horses are injured, are they improved or deteriorated? the latter. deteriorated, that is to say, in the good qualities of horses, not of dogs? yes, of horses. and dogs are deteriorated in the good qualities of dogs, and not of horses? of course. and will not men who are injured be deteriorated in that which is the proper virtue of man? certainly. and that human virtue is justice? to be sure. then men who are injured are of necessity made unjust? that is the result. but can the musician by his art make men unmusical? certainly not. or the horseman by his art make them bad horsemen? impossible. and can the just by justice make men unjust, or speaking general can the good by virtue make them bad? assuredly not. any more than heat can produce cold? it cannot. or drought moisture? clearly not. nor can the good harm any one? impossible. and the just is the good? certainly. then to injure a friend or any one else is not the act of a just man, but of the opposite, who is the unjust? i think that what you say is quite true, socrates. then if a man says that justice consists in the repayment of debts, and that good is the debt which a man owes to his friends, and evil the debt which he owes to his enemies,--to say this is not wise; for it is not true, if, as has been clearly shown, the injuring of another can be in no case just. i agree with you, said polemarchus. then you and i are prepared to take up arms against any one who attributes such a saying to simonides or bias or pittacus, or any other wise man or seer? i am quite ready to do battle at your side, he said. shall i tell you whose i believe the saying to be? whose? i believe that periander or perdiccas or xerxes or ismenias the theban, or some other rich and mighty man, who had a great opinion of his own power, was the first to say that justice is 'doing good to your friends and harm to your enemies.' most true, he said. yes, i said; but if this definition of justice also breaks down, what other can be offered? several times in the course of the discussion thrasymachus had made an attempt to get the argument into his own hands, and had been put down by the rest of the company, who wanted to hear the end. but when polemarchus and i had done speaking and there was a pause, he could no longer hold his peace; and, gathering himself up, he came at us like a wild beast, seeking to devour us. we were quite panic-stricken at the sight of him. socrates - polemarchus - thrasymachus he roared out to the whole company: what folly. socrates, has taken possession of you all? and why, sillybillies, do you knock under to one another? i say that if you want really to know what justice is, you should not only ask but answer, and you should not seek honour to yourself from the refutation of an opponent, but have your own answer; for there is many a one who can ask and cannot answer. and now i will not have you say that justice is duty or advantage or profit or gain or interest, for this sort of nonsense will not do for me; i must have clearness and accuracy. i was panic-stricken at his words, and could not look at him without trembling. indeed i believe that if i had not fixed my eye upon him, i should have been struck dumb: but when i saw his fury rising, i looked at him first, and was therefore able to reply to him. thrasymachus, i said, with a quiver, don't be hard upon us. polemarchus and i may have been guilty of a little mistake in the argument, but i can assure you that the error was not intentional. if we were seeking for a piece of gold, you would not imagine that we were 'knocking under to one another,' and so losing our chance of finding it. and why, when we are seeking for justice, a thing more precious than many pieces of gold, do you say that we are weakly yielding to one another and not doing our utmost to get at the truth? nay, my good friend, we are most willing and anxious to do so, but the fact is that we cannot. and if so, you people who know all things should pity us and not be angry with us. how characteristic of socrates! he replied, with a bitter laugh;--that's your ironical style! did i not foresee--have i not already told you, that whatever he was asked he would refuse to answer, and try irony or any other shuffle, in order that he might avoid answering? you are a philosopher, thrasymachus, i replied, and well know that if you ask a person what numbers make up twelve, taking care to prohibit him whom you ask from answering twice six, or three times four, or six times two, or four times three, 'for this sort of nonsense will not do for me,'--then obviously, that is your way of putting the question, no one can answer you. but suppose that he were to retort, 'thrasymachus, what do you mean? if one of these numbers which you interdict be the true answer to the question, am i falsely to say some other number which is not the right one?--is that your meaning?'--how would you answer him? just as if the two cases were at all alike! he said. why should they not be? i replied; and even if they are not, but only appear to be so to the person who is asked, ought he not to say what he thinks, whether you and i forbid him or not? i presume then that you are going to make one of the interdicted answers? i dare say that i may, notwithstanding the danger, if upon reflection i approve of any of them. but what if i give you an answer about justice other and better, he said, than any of these? what do you deserve to have done to you? done to me!--as becomes the ignorant, i must learn from the wise--that is what i deserve to have done to me. what, and no payment! a pleasant notion! i will pay when i have the money, i replied. socrates - thrasymachus - glaucon but you have, socrates, said glaucon: and you, thrasymachus, need be under no anxiety about money, for we will all make a contribution for socrates. yes, he replied, and then socrates will do as he always does--refuse to answer himself, but take and pull to pieces the answer of some one else. why, my good friend, i said, how can any one answer who knows, and says that he knows, just nothing; and who, even if he has some faint notions of his own, is told by a man of authority not to utter them? the natural thing is, that the speaker should be some one like yourself who professes to know and can tell what he knows. will you then kindly answer, for the edification of the company and of myself? glaucon and the rest of the company joined in my request and thrasymachus, as any one might see, was in reality eager to speak; for he thought that he had an excellent answer, and would distinguish himself. but at first he to insist on my answering; at length he consented to begin. behold, he said, the wisdom of socrates; he refuses to teach himself, and goes about learning of others, to whom he never even says thank you. that i learn of others, i replied, is quite true; but that i am ungrateful i wholly deny. money i have none, and therefore i pay in praise, which is all i have: and how ready i am to praise any one who appears to me to speak well you will very soon find out when you answer; for i expect that you will answer well. listen, then, he said; i proclaim that justice is nothing else than the interest of the stronger. and now why do you not me? but of course you won't. let me first understand you, i replied. justice, as you say, is the interest of the stronger. what, thrasymachus, is the meaning of this? you cannot mean to say that because polydamas, the pancratiast, is stronger than we are, and finds the eating of beef conducive to his bodily strength, that to eat beef is therefore equally for our good who are weaker than he is, and right and just for us? that's abominable of you, socrates; you take the words in the sense which is most damaging to the argument. not at all, my good sir, i said; i am trying to understand them; and i wish that you would be a little clearer. well, he said, have you never heard that forms of government differ; there are tyrannies, and there are democracies, and there are aristocracies? yes, i know. and the government is the ruling power in each state? certainly. and the different forms of government make laws democratical, aristocratical, tyrannical, with a view to their several interests; and these laws, which are made by them for their own interests, are the justice which they deliver to their subjects, and him who transgresses them they punish as a breaker of the law, and unjust. and that is what i mean when i say that in all states there is the same principle of justice, which is the interest of the government; and as the government must be supposed to have power, the only reasonable conclusion is, that everywhere there is one principle of justice, which is the interest of the stronger. now i understand you, i said; and whether you are right or not i will try to discover. but let me remark, that in defining justice you have yourself used the word 'interest' which you forbade me to use. it is true, however, that in your definition the words 'of the stronger' are added. a small addition, you must allow, he said. great or small, never mind about that: we must first enquire whether what you are saying is the truth. now we are both agreed that justice is interest of some sort, but you go on to say 'of the stronger'; about this addition i am not so sure, and must therefore consider further. proceed. i will; and first tell me, do you admit that it is just or subjects to obey their rulers? i do. but are the rulers of states absolutely infallible, or are they sometimes liable to err? to be sure, he replied, they are liable to err. then in making their laws they may sometimes make them rightly, and sometimes not? true. when they make them rightly, they make them agreeably to their interest; when they are mistaken, contrary to their interest; you admit that? yes. and the laws which they make must be obeyed by their subjects,--and that is what you call justice? doubtless. then justice, according to your argument, is not only obedience to the interest of the stronger but the reverse? what is that you are saying? he asked. i am only repeating what you are saying, i believe. but let us consider: have we not admitted that the rulers may be mistaken about their own interest in what they command, and also that to obey them is justice? has not that been admitted? yes. then you must also have acknowledged justice not to be for the interest of the stronger, when the rulers unintentionally command things to be done which are to their own injury. for if, as you say, justice is the obedience which the subject renders to their commands, in that case, o wisest of men, is there any escape from the conclusion that the weaker are commanded to do, not what is for the interest, but what is for the injury of the stronger? nothing can be clearer, socrates, said polemarchus. socrates - cleitophon - polemarchus - thrasymachus yes, said cleitophon, interposing, if you are allowed to be his witness. but there is no need of any witness, said polemarchus, for thrasymachus himself acknowledges that rulers may sometimes command what is not for their own interest, and that for subjects to obey them is justice. yes, polemarchus,--thrasymachus said that for subjects to do what was commanded by their rulers is just. yes, cleitophon, but he also said that justice is the interest of the stronger, and, while admitting both these propositions, he further acknowledged that the stronger may command the weaker who are his subjects to do what is not for his own interest; whence follows that justice is the injury quite as much as the interest of the stronger. but, said cleitophon, he meant by the interest of the stronger what the stronger thought to be his interest,--this was what the weaker had to do; and this was affirmed by him to be justice. those were not his words, rejoined polemarchus. socrates - thrasymachus never mind, i replied, if he now says that they are, let us accept his statement. tell me, thrasymachus, i said, did you mean by justice what the stronger thought to be his interest, whether really so or not? certainly not, he said. do you suppose that i call him who is mistaken the stronger at the time when he is mistaken? yes, i said, my impression was that you did so, when you admitted that the ruler was not infallible but might be sometimes mistaken. you argue like an informer, socrates. do you mean, for example, that he who is mistaken about the sick is a physician in that he is mistaken? or that he who errs in arithmetic or grammar is an arithmetician or grammarian at the me when he is making the mistake, in respect of the mistake? true, we say that the physician or arithmetician or grammarian has made a mistake, but this is only a way of speaking; for the fact is that neither the grammarian nor any other person of skill ever makes a mistake in so far as he is what his name implies; they none of them err unless their skill fails them, and then they cease to be skilled artists. no artist or sage or ruler errs at the time when he is what his name implies; though he is commonly said to err, and i adopted the common mode of speaking. but to be perfectly accurate, since you are such a lover of accuracy, we should say that the ruler, in so far as he is the ruler, is unerring, and, being unerring, always commands that which is for his own interest; and the subject is required to execute his commands; and therefore, as i said at first and now repeat, justice is the interest of the stronger. indeed, thrasymachus, and do i really appear to you to argue like an informer? certainly, he replied. and you suppose that i ask these questions with any design of injuring you in the argument? nay, he replied, 'suppose' is not the word--i know it; but you will be found out, and by sheer force of argument you will never prevail. i shall not make the attempt, my dear man; but to avoid any misunderstanding occurring between us in future, let me ask, in what sense do you speak of a ruler or stronger whose interest, as you were saying, he being the superior, it is just that the inferior should execute--is he a ruler in the popular or in the strict sense of the term? in the strictest of all senses, he said. and now cheat and play the informer if you can; i ask no quarter at your hands. but you never will be able, never. and do you imagine, i said, that i am such a madman as to try and cheat, thrasymachus? i might as well shave a lion. why, he said, you made the attempt a minute ago, and you failed. enough, i said, of these civilities. it will be better that i should ask you a question: is the physician, taken in that strict sense of which you are speaking, a healer of the sick or a maker of money? and remember that i am now speaking of the true physician. a healer of the sick, he replied. and the pilot--that is to say, the true pilot--is he a captain of sailors or a mere sailor? a captain of sailors. the circumstance that he sails in the ship is not to be taken into account; neither is he to be called a sailor; the name pilot by which he is distinguished has nothing to do with sailing, but is significant of his skill and of his authority over the sailors. very true, he said. now, i said, every art has an interest? certainly. for which the art has to consider and provide? yes, that is the aim of art. and the interest of any art is the perfection of it--this and nothing else? what do you mean? i mean what i may illustrate negatively by the example of the body. suppose you were to ask me whether the body is self-sufficing or has wants, i should reply: certainly the body has wants; for the body may be ill and require to be cured, and has therefore interests to which the art of medicine ministers; and this is the origin and intention of medicine, as you will acknowledge. am i not right? quite right, he replied. but is the art of medicine or any other art faulty or deficient in any quality in the same way that the eye may be deficient in sight or the ear fail of hearing, and therefore requires another art to provide for the interests of seeing and hearing--has art in itself, i say, any similar liability to fault or defect, and does every art require another supplementary art to provide for its interests, and that another and another without end? or have the arts to look only after their own interests? or have they no need either of themselves or of another?--having no faults or defects, they have no need to correct them, either by the exercise of their own art or of any other; they have only to consider the interest of their subject-matter. for every art remains pure and faultless while remaining true--that is to say, while perfect and unimpaired. take the words in your precise sense, and tell me whether i am not right." yes, clearly. then medicine does not consider the interest of medicine, but the interest of the body? true, he said. nor does the art of horsemanship consider the interests of the art of horsemanship, but the interests of the horse; neither do any other arts care for themselves, for they have no needs; they care only for that which is the subject of their art? true, he said. but surely, thrasymachus, the arts are the superiors and rulers of their own subjects? to this he assented with a good deal of reluctance. then, i said, no science or art considers or enjoins the interest of the stronger or superior, but only the interest of the subject and weaker? he made an attempt to contest this proposition also, but finally acquiesced. then, i continued, no physician, in so far as he is a physician, considers his own good in what he prescribes, but the good of his patient; for the true physician is also a ruler having the human body as a subject, and is not a mere money-maker; that has been admitted? yes. and the pilot likewise, in the strict sense of the term, is a ruler of sailors and not a mere sailor? that has been admitted. and such a pilot and ruler will provide and prescribe for the interest of the sailor who is under him, and not for his own or the ruler's interest? he gave a reluctant 'yes.' then, i said, thrasymachus, there is no one in any rule who, in so far as he is a ruler, considers or enjoins what is for his own interest, but always what is for the interest of his subject or suitable to his art; to that he looks, and that alone he considers in everything which he says and does. when we had got to this point in the argument, and every one saw that the definition of justice had been completely upset, thrasymachus, instead of replying to me, said: tell me, socrates, have you got a nurse? why do you ask such a question, i said, when you ought rather to be answering? because she leaves you to snivel, and never wipes your nose: she has not even taught you to know the shepherd from the sheep. what makes you say that? i replied. because you fancy that the shepherd or neatherd fattens of tends the sheep or oxen with a view to their own good and not to the good of himself or his master; and you further imagine that the rulers of states, if they are true rulers, never think of their subjects as sheep, and that they are not studying their own advantage day and night. oh, no; and so entirely astray are you in your ideas about the just and unjust as not even to know that justice and the just are in reality another's good; that is to say, the interest of the ruler and stronger, and the loss of the subject and servant; and injustice the opposite; for the unjust is lord over the truly simple and just: he is the stronger, and his subjects do what is for his interest, and minister to his happiness, which is very far from being their own. consider further, most foolish socrates, that the just is always a loser in comparison with the unjust. first of all, in private contracts: wherever the unjust is the partner of the just you will find that, when the partnership is dissolved, the unjust man has always more and the just less. secondly, in their dealings with the state: when there is an income tax, the just man will pay more and the unjust less on the same amount of income; and when there is anything to be received the one gains nothing and the other much. observe also what happens when they take an office; there is the just man neglecting his affairs and perhaps suffering other losses, and getting nothing out of the public, because he is just; moreover he is hated by his friends and acquaintance for refusing to serve them in unlawful ways. but all this is reversed in the case of the unjust man. i am speaking, as before, of injustice on a large scale in which the advantage of the unjust is more apparent; and my meaning will be most clearly seen if we turn to that highest form of injustice in which the criminal is the happiest of men, and the sufferers or those who refuse to do injustice are the most miserable--that is to say tyranny, which by fraud and force takes away the property of others, not little by little but wholesale; comprehending in one, things sacred as well as profane, private and public; for which acts of wrong, if he were detected perpetrating any one of them singly, he would be punished and incur great disgrace--they who do such wrong in particular cases are called robbers of temples, and man-stealers and burglars and swindlers and thieves. but when a man besides taking away the money of the citizens has made slaves of them, then, instead of these names of reproach, he is termed happy and blessed, not only by the citizens but by all who hear of his having achieved the consummation of injustice. for mankind censure injustice, fearing that they may be the victims of it and not because they shrink from committing it. and thus, as i have shown, socrates, injustice, when on a sufficient scale, has more strength and freedom and mastery than justice; and, as i said at first, justice is the interest of the stronger, whereas injustice is a man's own profit and interest. thrasymachus, when he had thus spoken, having, like a bathman, deluged our ears with his words, had a mind to go away. but the company would not let him; they insisted that he should remain and defend his position; and i myself added my own humble request that he would not leave us. thrasymachus, i said to him, excellent man, how suggestive are your remarks! and are you going to run away before you have fairly taught or learned whether they are true or not? is the attempt to determine the way of man's life so small a matter in your eyes--to determine how life may be passed by each one of us to the greatest advantage? and do i differ from you, he said, as to the importance of the enquiry? you appear rather, i replied, to have no care or thought about us, thrasymachus--whether we live better or worse from not knowing what you say you know, is to you a matter of indifference. prithee, friend, do not keep your knowledge to yourself; we are a large party; and any benefit which you confer upon us will be amply rewarded. for my own part i openly declare that i am not convinced, and that i do not believe injustice to be more gainful than justice, even if uncontrolled and allowed to have free play. for, granting that there may be an unjust man who is able to commit injustice either by fraud or force, still this does not convince me of the superior advantage of injustice, and there may be others who are in the same predicament with myself. perhaps we may be wrong; if so, you in your wisdom should convince us that we are mistaken in preferring justice to injustice. and how am i to convince you, he said, if you are not already convinced by what i have just said; what more can i do for you? would you have me put the proof bodily into your souls? heaven forbid! i said; i would only ask you to be consistent; or, if you change, change openly and let there be no deception. for i must remark, thrasymachus, if you will recall what was previously said, that although you began by defining the true physician in an exact sense, you did not observe a like exactness when speaking of the shepherd; you thought that the shepherd as a shepherd tends the sheep not with a view to their own good, but like a mere diner or banqueter with a view to the pleasures of the table; or, again, as a trader for sale in the market, and not as a shepherd. yet surely the art of the shepherd is concerned only with the good of his subjects; he has only to provide the best for them, since the perfection of the art is already ensured whenever all the requirements of it are satisfied. and that was what i was saying just now about the ruler. i conceived that the art of the ruler, considered as ruler, whether in a state or in private life, could only regard the good of his flock or subjects; whereas you seem to think that the rulers in states, that is to say, the true rulers, like being in authority. think! nay, i am sure of it. then why in the case of lesser offices do men never take them willingly without payment, unless under the idea that they govern for the advantage not of themselves but of others? let me ask you a question: are not the several arts different, by reason of their each having a separate function? and, my dear illustrious friend, do say what you think, that we may make a little progress. yes, that is the difference, he replied. and each art gives us a particular good and not merely a general one--medicine, for example, gives us health; navigation, safety at sea, and so on? yes, he said. and the art of payment has the special function of giving pay: but we do not confuse this with other arts, any more than the art of the pilot is to be confused with the art of medicine, because the health of the pilot may be improved by a sea voyage. you would not be inclined to say, would you, that navigation is the art of medicine, at least if we are to adopt your exact use of language? certainly not. or because a man is in good health when he receives pay you would not say that the art of payment is medicine? i should say not. nor would you say that medicine is the art of receiving pay because a man takes fees when he is engaged in healing? certainly not. and we have admitted, i said, that the good of each art is specially confined to the art? yes. then, if there be any good which all artists have in common, that is to be attributed to something of which they all have the common use? true, he replied. and when the artist is benefited by receiving pay the advantage is gained by an additional use of the art of pay, which is not the art professed by him? he gave a reluctant assent to this. then the pay is not derived by the several artists from their respective arts. but the truth is, that while the art of medicine gives health, and the art of the builder builds a house, another art attends them which is the art of pay. the various arts may be doing their own business and benefiting that over which they preside, but would the artist receive any benefit from his art unless he were paid as well? i suppose not. but does he therefore confer no benefit when he works for nothing? certainly, he confers a benefit. then now, thrasymachus, there is no longer any doubt that neither arts nor governments provide for their own interests; but, as we were before saying, they rule and provide for the interests of their subjects who are the weaker and not the stronger--to their good they attend and not to the good of the superior. and this is the reason, my dear thrasymachus, why, as i was just now saying, no one is willing to govern; because no one likes to take in hand the reformation of evils which are not his concern without remuneration. for, in the execution of his work, and in giving his orders to another, the true artist does not regard his own interest, but always that of his subjects; and therefore in order that rulers may be willing to rule, they must be paid in one of three modes of payment: money, or honour, or a penalty for refusing. socrates - glaucon what do you mean, socrates? said glaucon. the first two modes of payment are intelligible enough, but what the penalty is i do not understand, or how a penalty can be a payment. you mean that you do not understand the nature of this payment which to the best men is the great inducement to rule? of course you know that ambition and avarice are held to be, as indeed they are, a disgrace? very true. and for this reason, i said, money and honour have no attraction for them; good men do not wish to be openly demanding payment for governing and so to get the name of hirelings, nor by secretly helping themselves out of the public revenues to get the name of thieves. and not being ambitious they do not care about honour. wherefore necessity must be laid upon them, and they must be induced to serve from the fear of punishment. and this, as i imagine, is the reason why the forwardness to take office, instead of waiting to be compelled, has been deemed dishonourable. now the worst part of the punishment is that he who refuses to rule is liable to be ruled by one who is worse than himself. and the fear of this, as i conceive, induces the good to take office, not because they would, but because they cannot help--not under the idea that they are going to have any benefit or enjoyment themselves, but as a necessity, and because they are not able to commit the task of ruling to any one who is better than themselves, or indeed as good. for there is reason to think that if a city were composed entirely of good men, then to avoid office would be as much an object of contention as to obtain office is at present; then we should have plain proof that the true ruler is not meant by nature to regard his own interest, but that of his subjects; and every one who knew this would choose rather to receive a benefit from another than to have the trouble of conferring one. so far am i from agreeing with thrasymachus that justice is the interest of the stronger. this latter question need not be further discussed at present; but when thrasymachus says that the life of the unjust is more advantageous than that of the just, his new statement appears to me to be of a far more serious character. which of us has spoken truly? and which sort of life, glaucon, do you prefer? i for my part deem the life of the just to be the more advantageous, he answered. did you hear all the advantages of the unjust which thrasymachus was rehearsing? yes, i heard him, he replied, but he has not convinced me. then shall we try to find some way of convincing him, if we can, that he is saying what is not true? most certainly, he replied. if, i said, he makes a set speech and we make another recounting all the advantages of being just, and he answers and we rejoin, there must be a numbering and measuring of the goods which are claimed on either side, and in the end we shall want judges to decide; but if we proceed in our enquiry as we lately did, by making admissions to one another, we shall unite the offices of judge and advocate in our own persons. very good, he said. and which method do i understand you to prefer? i said. that which you propose. well, then, thrasymachus, i said, suppose you begin at the beginning and answer me. you say that perfect injustice is more gainful than perfect justice? socrates - glaucon - thrasymachus yes, that is what i say, and i have given you my reasons. and what is your view about them? would you call one of them virtue and the other vice? certainly. i suppose that you would call justice virtue and injustice vice? what a charming notion! so likely too, seeing that i affirm injustice to be profitable and justice not. what else then would you say? the opposite, he replied. and would you call justice vice? no, i would rather say sublime simplicity. then would you call injustice malignity? no; i would rather say discretion. and do the unjust appear to you to be wise and good? yes, he said; at any rate those of them who are able to be perfectly unjust, and who have the power of subduing states and nations; but perhaps you imagine me to be talking of cutpurses. even this profession if undetected has advantages, though they are not to be compared with those of which i was just now speaking. i do not think that i misapprehend your meaning, thrasymachus, i replied; but still i cannot hear without amazement that you class injustice with wisdom and virtue, and justice with the opposite. certainly i do so class them. now, i said, you are on more substantial and almost unanswerable ground; for if the injustice which you were maintaining to be profitable had been admitted by you as by others to be vice and deformity, an answer might have been given to you on received principles; but now i perceive that you will call injustice honourable and strong, and to the unjust you will attribute all the qualities which were attributed by us before to the just, seeing that you do not hesitate to rank injustice with wisdom and virtue. you have guessed most infallibly, he replied. then i certainly ought not to shrink from going through with the argument so long as i have reason to think that you, thrasymachus, are speaking your real mind; for i do believe that you are now in earnest and are not amusing yourself at our expense. i may be in earnest or not, but what is that to you?--to refute the argument is your business. very true, i said; that is what i have to do: but will you be so good as answer yet one more question? does the just man try to gain any advantage over the just? far otherwise; if he did would not be the simple, amusing creature which he is. and would he try to go beyond just action? he would not. and how would he regard the attempt to gain an advantage over the unjust; would that be considered by him as just or unjust? he would think it just, and would try to gain the advantage; but he would not be able. whether he would or would not be able, i said, is not to the point. my question is only whether the just man, while refusing to have more than another just man, would wish and claim to have more than the unjust? yes, he would. and what of the unjust--does he claim to have more than the just man and to do more than is just. of course, he said, for he claims to have more than all men. and the unjust man will strive and struggle to obtain more than the unjust man or action, in order that he may have more than all? true. we may put the matter thus, i said--the just does not desire more than his like but more than his unlike, whereas the unjust desires more than both his like and his unlike? nothing, he said, can be better than that statement. and the unjust is good and wise, and the just is neither? good again, he said. and is not the unjust like the wise and good and the just unlike them? of course, he said, he who is of a certain nature, is like those who are of a certain nature; he who is not, not. each of them, i said, is such as his like is? certainly, he replied. very good, thrasymachus, i said; and now to take the case of the arts: you would admit that one man is a musician and another not a musician? yes. and which is wise and which is foolish? clearly the musician is wise, and he who is not a musician is foolish. and he is good in as far as he is wise, and bad in as far as he is foolish? yes. and you would say the same sort of thing of the physician? yes. and do you think, my excellent friend, that a musician when he adjusts the lyre would desire or claim to exceed or go beyond a musician in the tightening and loosening the strings? i do not think that he would. but he would claim to exceed the non-musician? of course. and what would you say of the physician? in prescribing meats and drinks would he wish to go beyond another physician or beyond the practice of medicine? he would not. but he would wish to go beyond the non-physician? yes. and about knowledge and ignorance in general; see whether you think that any man who has knowledge ever would wish to have the choice of saying or doing more than another man who has knowledge. would he not rather say or do the same as his like in the same case? that, i suppose, can hardly be denied. and what of the ignorant? would he not desire to have more than either the knowing or the ignorant? i dare say. and the knowing is wise? yes. and the wise is good? true. then the wise and good will not desire to gain more than his like, but more than his unlike and opposite? i suppose so. whereas the bad and ignorant will desire to gain more than both? yes. but did we not say, thrasymachus, that the unjust goes beyond both his like and unlike? were not these your words? they were. they were. and you also said that the lust will not go beyond his like but his unlike? yes. then the just is like the wise and good, and the unjust like the evil and ignorant? that is the inference. and each of them is such as his like is? that was admitted. then the just has turned out to be wise and good and the unjust evil and ignorant. thrasymachus made all these admissions, not fluently, as i repeat them, but with extreme reluctance; it was a hot summer's day, and the perspiration poured from him in torrents; and then i saw what i had never seen before, thrasymachus blushing. as we were now agreed that justice was virtue and wisdom, and injustice vice and ignorance, i proceeded to another point: well, i said, thrasymachus, that matter is now settled; but were we not also saying that injustice had strength; do you remember? yes, i remember, he said, but do not suppose that i approve of what you are saying or have no answer; if however i were to answer, you would be quite certain to accuse me of haranguing; therefore either permit me to have my say out, or if you would rather ask, do so, and i will answer 'very good,' as they say to story-telling old women, and will nod 'yes' and 'no.' certainly not, i said, if contrary to your real opinion. yes, he said, i will, to please you, since you will not let me speak. what else would you have? nothing in the world, i said; and if you are so disposed i will ask and you shall answer. proceed. then i will repeat the question which i asked before, in order that our examination of the relative nature of justice and injustice may be carried on regularly. a statement was made that injustice is stronger and more powerful than justice, but now justice, having been identified with wisdom and virtue, is easily shown to be stronger than injustice, if injustice is ignorance; this can no longer be questioned by any one. but i want to view the matter, thrasymachus, in a different way: you would not deny that a state may be unjust and may be unjustly attempting to enslave other states, or may have already enslaved them, and may be holding many of them in subjection? true, he replied; and i will add the best and perfectly unjust state will be most likely to do so. i know, i said, that such was your position; but what i would further consider is, whether this power which is possessed by the superior state can exist or be exercised without justice. if you are right in you view, and justice is wisdom, then only with justice; but if i am right, then without justice. i am delighted, thrasymachus, to see you not only nodding assent and dissent, but making answers which are quite excellent. that is out of civility to you, he replied. you are very kind, i said; and would you have the goodness also to inform me, whether you think that a state, or an army, or a band of robbers and thieves, or any other gang of evil-doers could act at all if they injured one another? no indeed, he said, they could not. but if they abstained from injuring one another, then they might act together better? yes. and this is because injustice creates divisions and hatreds and fighting, and justice imparts harmony and friendship; is not that true, thrasymachus? i agree, he said, because i do not wish to quarrel with you. how good of you, i said; but i should like to know also whether injustice, having this tendency to arouse hatred, wherever existing, among slaves or among freemen, will not make them hate one another and set them at variance and render them incapable of common action? certainly. and even if injustice be found in two only, will they not quarrel and fight, and become enemies to one another and to the just. they will. and suppose injustice abiding in a single person, would your wisdom say that she loses or that she retains her natural power? let us assume that she retains her power. yet is not the power which injustice exercises of such a nature that wherever she takes up her abode, whether in a city, in an army, in a family, or in any other body, that body is, to begin with, rendered incapable of united action by reason of sedition and distraction; and does it not become its own enemy and at variance with all that opposes it, and with the just? is not this the case? yes, certainly. and is not injustice equally fatal when existing in a single person; in the first place rendering him incapable of action because he is not at unity with himself, and in the second place making him an enemy to himself and the just? is not that true, thrasymachus? yes. and o my friend, i said, surely the gods are just? granted that they are. but if so, the unjust will be the enemy of the gods, and the just will be their friend? feast away in triumph, and take your fill of the argument; i will not oppose you, lest i should displease the company. well then, proceed with your answers, and let me have the remainder of my repast. for we have already shown that the just are clearly wiser and better and abler than the unjust, and that the unjust are incapable of common action; nay ing at more, that to speak as we did of men who are evil acting at any time vigorously together, is not strictly true, for if they had been perfectly evil, they would have laid hands upon one another; but it is evident that there must have been some remnant of justice in them, which enabled them to combine; if there had not been they would have injured one another as well as their victims; they were but half--villains in their enterprises; for had they been whole villains, and utterly unjust, they would have been utterly incapable of action. that, as i believe, is the truth of the matter, and not what you said at first. but whether the just have a better and happier life than the unjust is a further question which we also proposed to consider. i think that they have, and for the reasons which to have given; but still i should like to examine further, for no light matter is at stake, nothing less than the rule of human life. proceed. i will proceed by asking a question: would you not say that a horse has some end? i should. and the end or use of a horse or of anything would be that which could not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing? i do not understand, he said. let me explain: can you see, except with the eye? certainly not. or hear, except with the ear? no. these then may be truly said to be the ends of these organs? they may. but you can cut off a vine-branch with a dagger or with a chisel, and in many other ways? of course. and yet not so well as with a pruning-hook made for the purpose? true. may we not say that this is the end of a pruning-hook? we may. then now i think you will have no difficulty in understanding my meaning when i asked the question whether the end of anything would be that which could not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing? i understand your meaning, he said, and assent. and that to which an end is appointed has also an excellence? need i ask again whether the eye has an end? it has. and has not the eye an excellence? yes. and the ear has an end and an excellence also? true. and the same is true of all other things; they have each of them an end and a special excellence? that is so. well, and can the eyes fulfil their end if they are wanting in their own proper excellence and have a defect instead? how can they, he said, if they are blind and cannot see? you mean to say, if they have lost their proper excellence, which is sight; but i have not arrived at that point yet. i would rather ask the question more generally, and only enquire whether the things which fulfil their ends fulfil them by their own proper excellence, and fall of fulfilling them by their own defect? certainly, he replied. i might say the same of the ears; when deprived of their own proper excellence they cannot fulfil their end? true. and the same observation will apply to all other things? i agree. well; and has not the soul an end which nothing else can fulfil? for example, to superintend and command and deliberate and the like. are not these functions proper to the soul, and can they rightly be assigned to any other? to no other. and is not life to be reckoned among the ends of the soul? assuredly, he said. and has not the soul an excellence also? yes. and can she or can she not fulfil her own ends when deprived of that excellence? she cannot. then an evil soul must necessarily be an evil ruler and superintendent, and the good soul a good ruler? yes, necessarily. and we have admitted that justice is the excellence of the soul, and injustice the defect of the soul? that has been admitted. then the just soul and the just man will live well, and the unjust man will live ill? that is what your argument proves. and he who lives well is blessed and happy, and he who lives ill the reverse of happy? certainly. then the just is happy, and the unjust miserable? so be it. but happiness and not misery is profitable. of course. then, my blessed thrasymachus, injustice can never be more profitable than justice. let this, socrates, he said, be your entertainment at the bendidea. for which i am indebted to you, i said, now that you have grown gentle towards me and have left off scolding. nevertheless, i have not been well entertained; but that was my own fault and not yours. as an epicure snatches a taste of every dish which is successively brought to table, he not having allowed himself time to enjoy the one before, so have i gone from one subject to another without having discovered what i sought at first, the nature of justice. i left that enquiry and turned away to consider whether justice is virtue and wisdom or evil and folly; and when there arose a further question about the comparative advantages of justice and injustice, i could not refrain from passing on to that. and the result of the whole discussion has been that i know nothing at all. for i know not what justice is, and therefore i am not likely to know whether it is or is not a virtue, nor can i say whether the just man is happy or unhappy. book ii socrates - glaucon with these words i was thinking that i had made an end of the discussion; but the end, in truth, proved to be only a beginning. for glaucon, who is always the most pugnacious of men, was dissatisfied at thrasymachus' retirement; he wanted to have the battle out. so he said to me: socrates, do you wish really to persuade us, or only to seem to have persuaded us, that to be just is always better than to be unjust? i should wish really to persuade you, i replied, if i could. then you certainly have not succeeded. let me ask you now:--how would you arrange goods--are there not some which we welcome for their own sakes, and independently of their consequences, as, for example, harmless pleasures and enjoyments, which delight us at the time, although nothing follows from them? i agree in thinking that there is such a class, i replied. is there not also a second class of goods, such as knowledge, sight, health, which are desirable not only in themselves, but also for their results? certainly, i said. and would you not recognize a third class, such as gymnastic, and the care of the sick, and the physician's art; also the various ways of money-making--these do us good but we regard them as disagreeable; and no one would choose them for their own sakes, but only for the sake of some reward or result which flows from them? there is, i said, this third class also. but why do you ask? because i want to know in which of the three classes you would place justice? in the highest class, i replied,--among those goods which he who would be happy desires both for their own sake and for the sake of their results. then the many are of another mind; they think that justice is to be reckoned in the troublesome class, among goods which are to be pursued for the sake of rewards and of reputation, but in themselves are disagreeable and rather to be avoided. i know, i said, that this is their manner of thinking, and that this was the thesis which thrasymachus was maintaining just now, when he censured justice and praised injustice. but i am too stupid to be convinced by him. i wish, he said, that you would hear me as well as him, and then i shall see whether you and i agree. for thrasymachus seems to me, like a snake, to have been charmed by your voice sooner than he ought to have been; but to my mind the nature of justice and injustice have not yet been made clear. setting aside their rewards and results, i want to know what they are in themselves, and how they inwardly work in the soul. if you, please, then, i will revive the argument of thrasymachus. and first i will speak of the nature and origin of justice according to the common view of them. secondly, i will show that all men who practise justice do so against their will, of necessity, but not as a good. and thirdly, i will argue that there is reason in this view, for the life of the unjust is after all better far than the life of the just--if what they say is true, socrates, since i myself am not of their opinion. but still i acknowledge that i am perplexed when i hear the voices of thrasymachus and myriads of others dinning in my ears; and, on the other hand, i have never yet heard the superiority of justice to injustice maintained by any one in a satisfactory way. i want to hear justice praised in respect of itself; then i shall be satisfied, and you are the person from whom i think that i am most likely to hear this; and therefore i will praise the unjust life to the utmost of my power, and my manner of speaking will indicate the manner in which i desire to hear you too praising justice and censuring injustice. will you say whether you approve of my proposal? indeed i do; nor can i imagine any theme about which a man of sense would oftener wish to converse. i am delighted, he replied, to hear you say so, and shall begin by speaking, as i proposed, of the nature and origin of justice. glaucon they say that to do injustice is, by nature, good; to suffer injustice, evil; but that the evil is greater than the good. and so when men have both done and suffered injustice and have had experience of both, not being able to avoid the one and obtain the other, they think that they had better agree among themselves to have neither; hence there arise laws and mutual covenants; and that which is ordained by law is termed by them lawful and just. this they affirm to be the origin and nature of justice;--it is a mean or compromise, between the best of all, which is to do injustice and not be punished, and the worst of all, which is to suffer injustice without the power of retaliation; and justice, being at a middle point between the two, is tolerated not as a good, but as the lesser evil, and honoured by reason of the inability of men to do injustice. for no man who is worthy to be called a man would ever submit to such an agreement if he were able to resist; he would be mad if he did. such is the received account, socrates, of the nature and origin of justice. now that those who practise justice do so involuntarily and because they have not the power to be unjust will best appear if we imagine something of this kind: having given both to the just and the unjust power to do what they will, let us watch and see whither desire will lead them; then we shall discover in the very act the just and unjust man to be proceeding along the same road, following their interest, which all natures deem to be their good, and are only diverted into the path of justice by the force of law. the liberty which we are supposing may be most completely given to them in the form of such a power as is said to have been possessed by gyges the ancestor of croesus the lydian. according to the tradition, gyges was a shepherd in the service of the king of lydia; there was a great storm, and an earthquake made an opening in the earth at the place where he was feeding his flock. amazed at the sight, he descended into the opening, where, among other marvels, he beheld a hollow brazen horse, having doors, at which he stooping and looking in saw a dead body of stature, as appeared to him, more than human, and having nothing on but a gold ring; this he took from the finger of the dead and reascended. now the shepherds met together, according to custom, that they might send their monthly report about the flocks to the king; into their assembly he came having the ring on his finger, and as he was sitting among them he chanced to turn the collet of the ring inside his hand, when instantly he became invisible to the rest of the company and they began to speak of him as if he were no longer present. he was astonished at this, and again touching the ring he turned the collet outwards and reappeared; he made several trials of the ring, and always with the same result-when he turned the collet inwards he became invisible, when outwards he reappeared. whereupon he contrived to be chosen one of the messengers who were sent to the court; where as soon as he arrived he seduced the queen, and with her help conspired against the king and slew him, and took the kingdom. suppose now that there were two such magic rings, and the just put on one of them and the unjust the other; no man can be imagined to be of such an iron nature that he would stand fast in justice. no man would keep his hands off what was not his own when he could safely take what he liked out of the market, or go into houses and lie with any one at his pleasure, or kill or release from prison whom he would, and in all respects be like a god among men. then the actions of the just would be as the actions of the unjust; they would both come at last to the same point. and this we may truly affirm to be a great proof that a man is just, not willingly or because he thinks that justice is any good to him individually, but of necessity, for wherever any one thinks that he can safely be unjust, there he is unjust. for all men believe in their hearts that injustice is far more profitable to the individual than justice, and he who argues as i have been supposing, will say that they are right. if you could imagine any one obtaining this power of becoming invisible, and never doing any wrong or touching what was another's, he would be thought by the lookers-on to be a most wretched idiot, although they would praise him to one another's faces, and keep up appearances with one another from a fear that they too might suffer injustice. enough of this. now, if we are to form a real judgment of the life of the just and unjust, we must isolate them; there is no other way; and how is the isolation to be effected? i answer: let the unjust man be entirely unjust, and the just man entirely just; nothing is to be taken away from either of them, and both are to be perfectly furnished for the work of their respective lives. first, let the unjust be like other distinguished masters of craft; like the skilful pilot or physician, who knows intuitively his own powers and keeps within their limits, and who, if he fails at any point, is able to recover himself. so let the unjust make his unjust attempts in the right way, and lie hidden if he means to be great in his injustice (he who is found out is nobody): for the highest reach of injustice is: to be deemed just when you are not. therefore i say that in the perfectly unjust man we must assume the most perfect injustice; there is to be no deduction, but we must allow him, while doing the most unjust acts, to have acquired the greatest reputation for justice. if he have taken a false step he must be able to recover himself; he must be one who can speak with effect, if any of his deeds come to light, and who can force his way where force is required his courage and strength, and command of money and friends. and at his side let us place the just man in his nobleness and simplicity, wishing, as aeschylus says, to be and not to seem good. there must be no seeming, for if he seem to be just he will be honoured and rewarded, and then we shall not know whether he is just for the sake of justice or for the sake of honours and rewards; therefore, let him be clothed in justice only, and have no other covering; and he must be imagined in a state of life the opposite of the former. let him be the best of men, and let him be thought the worst; then he will have been put to the proof; and we shall see whether he will be affected by the fear of infamy and its consequences. and let him continue thus to the hour of death; being just and seeming to be unjust. when both have reached the uttermost extreme, the one of justice and the other of injustice, let judgment be given which of them is the happier of the two. socrates - glaucon heavens! my dear glaucon, i said, how energetically you polish them up for the decision, first one and then the other, as if they were two statues. i do my best, he said. and now that we know what they are like there is no difficulty in tracing out the sort of life which awaits either of them. this i will proceed to describe; but as you may think the description a little too coarse, i ask you to suppose, socrates, that the words which follow are not mine.-- let me put them into the mouths of the eulogists of injustice: they will tell you that the just man who is thought unjust will be scourged, racked, bound--will have his eyes burnt out; and, at last, after suffering every kind of evil, he will be impaled: then he will understand that he ought to seem only, and not to be, just; the words of aeschylus may be more truly spoken of the unjust than of the just. for the unjust is pursuing a reality; he does not live with a view to appearances--he wants to be really unjust and not to seem only:-- his mind has a soil deep and fertile, out of which spring his prudent counsels. in the first place, he is thought just, and therefore bears rule in the city; he can marry whom he will, and give in marriage to whom he will; also he can trade and deal where he likes, and always to his own advantage, because he has no misgivings about injustice and at every contest, whether in public or private, he gets the better of his antagonists, and gains at their expense, and is rich, and out of his gains he can benefit his friends, and harm his enemies; moreover, he can offer sacrifices, and dedicate gifts to the gods abundantly and magnificently, and can honour the gods or any man whom he wants to honour in a far better style than the just, and therefore he is likely to be dearer than they are to the gods. and thus, socrates, gods and men are said to unite in making the life of the unjust better than the life of the just. adeimantus - socrates i was going to say something in answer to glaucon, when adeimantus, his brother, interposed: socrates, he said, you do not suppose that there is nothing more to be urged? why, what else is there? i answered. the strongest point of all has not been even mentioned, he replied. well, then, according to the proverb, 'let brother help brother'--if he fails in any part do you assist him; although i must confess that glaucon has already said quite enough to lay me in the dust, and take from me the power of helping justice. adeimantus nonsense, he replied. but let me add something more: there is another side to glaucon's argument about the praise and censure of justice and injustice, which is equally required in order to bring out what i believe to be his meaning. parents and tutors are always telling their sons and their wards that they are to be just; but why? not for the sake of justice, but for the sake of character and reputation; in the hope of obtaining for him who is reputed just some of those offices, marriages, and the like which glaucon has enumerated among the advantages accruing to the unjust from the reputation of justice. more, however, is made of appearances by this class of persons than by the others; for they throw in the good opinion of the gods, and will tell you of a shower of benefits which the heavens, as they say, rain upon the pious; and this accords with the testimony of the noble hesiod and homer, the first of whom says, that the gods make the oaks of the just-- to hear acorns at their summit, and bees i the middle; and the sheep the bowed down bowed the with the their fleeces. and many other blessings of a like kind are provided for them. and homer has a very similar strain; for he speaks of one whose fame is-- as the fame of some blameless king who, like a god, maintains justice to whom the black earth brings forth wheat and barley, whose trees are bowed with fruit, and his sheep never fail to bear, and the sea gives him fish. still grander are the gifts of heaven which musaeus and his son vouchsafe to the just; they take them down into the world below, where they have the saints lying on couches at a feast, everlastingly drunk, crowned with garlands; their idea seems to be that an immortality of drunkenness is the highest meed of virtue. some extend their rewards yet further; the posterity, as they say, of the faithful and just shall survive to the third and fourth generation. this is the style in which they praise justice. but about the wicked there is another strain; they bury them in a slough in hades, and make them carry water in a sieve; also while they are yet living they bring them to infamy, and inflict upon them the punishments which glaucon described as the portion of the just who are reputed to be unjust; nothing else does their invention supply. such is their manner of praising the one and censuring the other. once more, socrates, i will ask you to consider another way of speaking about justice and injustice, which is not confined to the poets, but is found in prose writers. the universal voice of mankind is always declaring that justice and virtue are honourable, but grievous and toilsome; and that the pleasures of vice and injustice are easy of attainment, and are only censured by law and opinion. they say also that honesty is for the most part less profitable than dishonesty; and they are quite ready to call wicked men happy, and to honour them both in public and private when they are rich or in any other way influential, while they despise and overlook those who may be weak and poor, even though acknowledging them to be better than the others. but most extraordinary of all is their mode of speaking about virtue and the gods: they say that the gods apportion calamity and misery to many good men, and good and happiness to the wicked. and mendicant prophets go to rich men's doors and persuade them that they have a power committed to them by the gods of making an atonement for a man's own or his ancestor's sins by sacrifices or charms, with rejoicings and feasts; and they promise to harm an enemy, whether just or unjust, at a small cost; with magic arts and incantations binding heaven, as they say, to execute their will. and the poets are the authorities to whom they appeal, now smoothing the path of vice with the words of hesiod;-- vice may be had in abundance without trouble; the way is smooth and her dwelling-place is near. but before virtue the gods have set toil, and a tedious and uphill road: then citing homer as a witness that the gods may be influenced by men; for he also says: the gods, too, may he turned from their purpose; and men pray to them and avert their wrath by sacrifices and soothing entreaties, and by libations and the odour of fat, when they have sinned and transgressed. and they produce a host of books written by musaeus and orpheus, who were children of the moon and the muses--that is what they say--according to which they perform their ritual, and persuade not only individuals, but whole cities, that expiations and atonements for sin may be made by sacrifices and amusements which fill a vacant hour, and are equally at the service of the living and the dead; the latter sort they call mysteries, and they redeem us from the pains of hell, but if we neglect them no one knows what awaits us. he proceeded: and now when the young hear all this said about virtue and vice, and the way in which gods and men regard them, how are their minds likely to be affected, my dear socrates,--those of them, i mean, who are quickwitted, and, like bees on the wing, light on every flower, and from all that they hear are prone to draw conclusions as to what manner of persons they should be and in what way they should walk if they would make the best of life? probably the youth will say to himself in the words of pindar-- can i by justice or by crooked ways of deceit ascend a loftier tower which may he a fortress to me all my days? for what men say is that, if i am really just and am not also thought just profit there is none, but the pain and loss on the other hand are unmistakable. but if, though unjust, i acquire the reputation of justice, a heavenly life is promised to me. since then, as philosophers prove, appearance tyrannizes over truth and is lord of happiness, to appearance i must devote myself. i will describe around me a picture and shadow of virtue to be the vestibule and exterior of my house; behind i will trail the subtle and crafty fox, as archilochus, greatest of sages, recommends. but i hear some one exclaiming that the concealment of wickedness is often difficult; to which i answer, nothing great is easy. nevertheless, the argument indicates this, if we would be happy, to be the path along which we should proceed. with a view to concealment we will establish secret brotherhoods and political clubs. and there are professors of rhetoric who teach the art of persuading courts and assemblies; and so, partly by persuasion and partly by force, i shall make unlawful gains and not be punished. still i hear a voice saying that the gods cannot be deceived, neither can they be compelled. but what if there are no gods? or, suppose them to have no care of human things--why in either case should we mind about concealment? and even if there are gods, and they do care about us, yet we know of them only from tradition and the genealogies of the poets; and these are the very persons who say that they may be influenced and turned by 'sacrifices and soothing entreaties and by offerings.' let us be consistent then, and believe both or neither. if the poets speak truly, why then we had better be unjust, and offer of the fruits of injustice; for if we are just, although we may escape the vengeance of heaven, we shall lose the gains of injustice; but, if we are unjust, we shall keep the gains, and by our sinning and praying, and praying and sinning, the gods will be propitiated, and we shall not be punished. 'but there is a world below in which either we or our posterity will suffer for our unjust deeds.' yes, my friend, will be the reflection, but there are mysteries and atoning deities, and these have great power. that is what mighty cities declare; and the children of the gods, who were their poets and prophets, bear a like testimony. on what principle, then, shall we any longer choose justice rather than the worst injustice? when, if we only unite the latter with a deceitful regard to appearances, we shall fare to our mind both with gods and men, in life and after death, as the most numerous and the highest authorities tell us. knowing all this, socrates, how can a man who has any superiority of mind or person or rank or wealth, be willing to honour justice; or indeed to refrain from laughing when he hears justice praised? and even if there should be some one who is able to disprove the truth of my words, and who is satisfied that justice is best, still he is not angry with the unjust, but is very ready to forgive them, because he also knows that men are not just of their own free will; unless, peradventure, there be some one whom the divinity within him may have inspired with a hatred of injustice, or who has attained knowledge of the truth--but no other man. he only blames injustice who, owing to cowardice or age or some weakness, has not the power of being unjust. and this is proved by the fact that when he obtains the power, he immediately becomes unjust as far as he can be. the cause of all this, socrates, was indicated by us at the beginning of the argument, when my brother and i told you how astonished we were to find that of all the professing panegyrists of justice--beginning with the ancient heroes of whom any memorial has been preserved to us, and ending with the men of our own time--no one has ever blamed injustice or praised justice except with a view to the glories, honours, and benefits which flow from them. no one has ever adequately described either in verse or prose the true essential nature of either of them abiding in the soul, and invisible to any human or divine eye; or shown that of all the things of a man's soul which he has within him, justice is the greatest good, and injustice the greatest evil. had this been the universal strain, had you sought to persuade us of this from our youth upwards, we should not have been on the watch to keep one another from doing wrong, but every one would have been his own watchman, because afraid, if he did wrong, of harbouring in himself the greatest of evils. i dare say that thrasymachus and others would seriously hold the language which i have been merely repeating, and words even stronger than these about justice and injustice, grossly, as i conceive, perverting their true nature. but i speak in this vehement manner, as i must frankly confess to you, because i want to hear from you the opposite side; and i would ask you to show not only the superiority which justice has over injustice, but what effect they have on the possessor of them which makes the one to be a good and the other an evil to him. and please, as glaucon requested of you, to exclude reputations; for unless you take away from each of them his true reputation and add on the false, we shall say that you do not praise justice, but the appearance of it; we shall think that you are only exhorting us to keep injustice dark, and that you really agree with thrasymachus in thinking that justice is another's good and the interest of the stronger, and that injustice is a man's own profit and interest, though injurious to the weaker. now as you have admitted that justice is one of that highest class of goods which are desired indeed for their results, but in a far greater degree for their own sakes--like sight or hearing or knowledge or health, or any other real and natural and not merely conventional good--i would ask you in your praise of justice to regard one point only: i mean the essential good and evil which justice and injustice work in the possessors of them. let others praise justice and censure injustice, magnifying the rewards and honours of the one and abusing the other; that is a manner of arguing which, coming from them, i am ready to tolerate, but from you who have spent your whole life in the consideration of this question, unless i hear the contrary from your own lips, i expect something better. and therefore, i say, not only prove to us that justice is better than injustice, but show what they either of them do to the possessor of them, which makes the one to be a good and the other an evil, whether seen or unseen by gods and men. socrates - adeimantus i had always admired the genius of glaucon and adeimantus, but on hearing these words i was quite delighted, and said: sons of an illustrious father, that was not a bad beginning of the elegiac verses which the admirer of glaucon made in honour of you after you had distinguished yourselves at the battle of megara:-- 'sons of ariston,' he sang, 'divine offspring of an illustrious hero.' the epithet is very appropriate, for there is something truly divine in being able to argue as you have done for the superiority of injustice, and remaining unconvinced by your own arguments. and i do believe that you are not convinced--this i infer from your general character, for had i judged only from your speeches i should have mistrusted you. but now, the greater my confidence in you, the greater is my difficulty in knowing what to say. for i am in a strait between two; on the one hand i feel that i am unequal to the task; and my inability is brought home to me by the fact that you were not satisfied with the answer which i made to thrasymachus, proving, as i thought, the superiority which justice has over injustice. and yet i cannot refuse to help, while breath and speech remain to me; i am afraid that there would be an impiety in being present when justice is evil spoken of and not lifting up a hand in her defence. and therefore i had best give such help as i can. glaucon and the rest entreated me by all means not to let the question drop, but to proceed in the investigation. they wanted to arrive at the truth, first, about the nature of justice and injustice, and secondly, about their relative advantages. i told them, what i really thought, that the enquiry would be of a serious nature, and would require very good eyes. seeing then, i said, that we are no great wits, i think that we had better adopt a method which i may illustrate thus; suppose that a short-sighted person had been asked by some one to read small letters from a distance; and it occurred to some one else that they might be found in another place which was larger and in which the letters were larger--if they were the same and he could read the larger letters first, and then proceed to the lesser--this would have been thought a rare piece of good fortune. very true, said adeimantus; but how does the illustration apply to our enquiry? i will tell you, i replied; justice, which is the subject of our enquiry, is, as you know, sometimes spoken of as the virtue of an individual, and sometimes as the virtue of a state. true, he replied. and is not a state larger than an individual? it is. then in the larger the quantity of justice is likely to be larger and more easily discernible. i propose therefore that we enquire into the nature of justice and injustice, first as they appear in the state, and secondly in the individual, proceeding from the greater to the lesser and comparing them. that, he said, is an excellent proposal. and if we imagine the state in process of creation, we shall see the justice and injustice of the state in process of creation also. i dare say. when the state is completed there may be a hope that the object of our search will be more easily discovered. yes, far more easily. but ought we to attempt to construct one? i said; for to do so, as i am inclined to think, will be a very serious task. reflect therefore. i have reflected, said adeimantus, and am anxious that you should proceed. a state, i said, arises, as i conceive, out of the needs of mankind; no one is self-sufficing, but all of us have many wants. can any other origin of a state be imagined? there can i be no other. then, as we have many wants, and many persons are needed to supply them, one takes a helper for one purpose and another for another; and when these partners and helpers are gathered together in one habitation the body of inhabitants is termed a state. true, he said. and they exchange with one another, and one gives, and another receives, under the idea that the exchange will be for their good. very true. then, i said, let us begin and create in idea a state; and yet the true creator is necessity, who is the mother of our invention. of course, he replied. now the first and greatest of necessities is food, which is the condition of life and existence. certainly. the second is a dwelling, and the third clothing and the like. true. and now let us see how our city will be able to supply this great demand: we may suppose that one man is a husbandman, another a builder, some one else a weaver--shall we add to them a shoemaker, or perhaps some other purveyor to our bodily wants? quite right. the barest notion of a state must include four or five men. clearly. and how will they proceed? will each bring the result of his labours into a common stock?--the individual husbandman, for example, producing for four, and labouring four times as long and as much as he need in the provision of food with which he supplies others as well as himself; or will he have nothing to do with others and not be at the trouble of producing for them, but provide for himself alone a fourth of the food in a fourth of the time, and in the remaining three-fourths of his time be employed in making a house or a coat or a pair of shoes, having no partnership with others, but supplying himself all his own wants? adeimantus thought that he should aim at producing food only and not at producing everything. probably, i replied, that would be the better way; and when i hear you say this, i am myself reminded that we are not all alike; there are diversities of natures among us which are adapted to different occupations. very true. and will you have a work better done when the workman has many occupations, or when he has only one? when he has only one. further, there can be no doubt that a work is spoilt when not done at the right time? no doubt. for business is not disposed to wait until the doer of the business is at leisure; but the doer must follow up what he is doing, and make the business his first object. he must. and if so, we must infer that all things are produced more plentifully and easily and of a better quality when one man does one thing which is natural to him and does it at the right time, and leaves other things. undoubtedly.. then more than four citizens will be required; for the husbandman will not make his own plough or mattock, or other implements of agriculture, if they are to be good for anything. neither will the builder make his tools--and he too needs many; and in like manner the weaver and shoemaker. true. then carpenters, and smiths, and many other artisans, will be sharers in our little state, which is already beginning to grow? true. yet even if we add neatherds, shepherds, and other herdsmen, in order that our husbandmen may have oxen to plough with, and builders as well as husbandmen may have draught cattle, and curriers and weavers fleeces and hides,--still our state will not be very large. that is true; yet neither will it be a very small state which contains all these. then, again, there is the situation of the city--to find a place where nothing need be imported is well-nigh impossible. impossible. then there must be another class of citizens who will bring the required supply from another city? there must. but if the trader goes empty-handed, having nothing which they require who would supply his need, he will come back empty-handed. that is certain. and therefore what they produce at home must be not only enough for themselves, but such both in quantity and quality as to accommodate those from whom their wants are supplied. very true. then more husbandmen and more artisans will be required? they will. not to mention the importers and exporters, who are called merchants? yes. then we shall want merchants? we shall. and if merchandise is to be carried over the sea, skilful sailors will also be needed, and in considerable numbers? yes, in considerable numbers. then, again, within the city, how will they exchange their productions? to secure such an exchange was, as you will remember, one of our principal objects when we formed them into a society and constituted a state. clearly they will buy and sell. then they will need a market-place, and a money-token for purposes of exchange. certainly. suppose now that a husbandman, or an artisan, brings some production to market, and he comes at a time when there is no one to exchange with him,--is he to leave his calling and sit idle in the market-place? not at all; he will find people there who, seeing the want, undertake the office of salesmen. in well-ordered states they are commonly those who are the weakest in bodily strength, and therefore of little use for any other purpose; their duty is to be in the market, and to give money in exchange for goods to those who desire to sell and to take money from those who desire to buy. this want, then, creates a class of retail-traders in our state. is not 'retailer' the term which is applied to those who sit in the market-place engaged in buying and selling, while those who wander from one city to another are called merchants? yes, he said. and there is another class of servants, who are intellectually hardly on the level of companionship; still they have plenty of bodily strength for labour, which accordingly they sell, and are called, if i do not mistake, hirelings, hire being the name which is given to the price of their labour. true. then hirelings will help to make up our population? yes. and now, adeimantus, is our state matured and perfected? i think so. where, then, is justice, and where is injustice, and in what part of the state did they spring up? probably in the dealings of these citizens with one another. cannot imagine that they are more likely to be found anywhere else. i dare say that you are right in your suggestion, i said; we had better think the matter out, and not shrink from the enquiry. let us then consider, first of all, what will be their way of life, now that we have thus established them. will they not produce corn, and wine, and clothes, and shoes, and build houses for themselves? and when they are housed, they will work, in summer, commonly, stripped and barefoot, but in winter substantially clothed and shod. they will feed on barley-meal and flour of wheat, baking and kneading them, making noble cakes and loaves; these they will serve up on a mat of reeds or on clean leaves, themselves reclining the while upon beds strewn with yew or myrtle. and they and their children will feast, drinking of the wine which they have made, wearing garlands on their heads, and hymning the praises of the gods, in happy converse with one another. and they will take care that their families do not exceed their means; having an eye to poverty or war. socrates - glaucon but, said glaucon, interposing, you have not given them a relish to their meal. true, i replied, i had forgotten; of course they must have a relish-salt, and olives, and cheese, and they will boil roots and herbs such as country people prepare; for a dessert we shall give them figs, and peas, and beans; and they will roast myrtle-berries and acorns at the fire, drinking in moderation. and with such a diet they may be expected to live in peace and health to a good old age, and bequeath a similar life to their children after them. yes, socrates, he said, and if you were providing for a city of pigs, how else would you feed the beasts? but what would you have, glaucon? i replied. why, he said, you should give them the ordinary conveniences of life. people who are to be comfortable are accustomed to lie on sofas, and dine off tables, and they should have sauces and sweets in the modern style. yes, i said, now i understand: the question which you would have me consider is, not only how a state, but how a luxurious state is created; and possibly there is no harm in this, for in such a state we shall be more likely to see how justice and injustice originate. in my opinion the true and healthy constitution of the state is the one which i have described. but if you wish also to see a state at fever heat, i have no objection. for i suspect that many will not be satisfied with the simpler way of way they will be for adding sofas, and tables, and other furniture; also dainties, and perfumes, and incense, and courtesans, and cakes, all these not of one sort only, but in every variety; we must go beyond the necessaries of which i was at first speaking, such as houses, and clothes, and shoes: the arts of the painter and the embroiderer will have to be set in motion, and gold and ivory and all sorts of materials must be procured. true, he said. then we must enlarge our borders; for the original healthy state is no longer sufficient. now will the city have to fill and swell with a multitude of callings which are not required by any natural want; such as the whole tribe of hunters and actors, of whom one large class have to do with forms and colours; another will be the votaries of music--poets and their attendant train of rhapsodists, players, dancers, contractors; also makers of divers kinds of articles, including women's dresses. and we shall want more servants. will not tutors be also in request, and nurses wet and dry, tirewomen and barbers, as well as confectioners and cooks; and swineherds, too, who were not needed and therefore had no place in the former edition of our state, but are needed now? they must not be forgotten: and there will be animals of many other kinds, if people eat them. certainly. and living in this way we shall have much greater need of physicians than before? much greater. and the country which was enough to support the original inhabitants will be too small now, and not enough? quite true. then a slice of our neighbours' land will be wanted by us for pasture and tillage, and they will want a slice of ours, if, like ourselves, they exceed the limit of necessity, and give themselves up to the unlimited accumulation of wealth? that, socrates, will be inevitable. and so we shall go to war, glaucon. shall we not? most certainly, he replied. then without determining as yet whether war does good or harm, thus much we may affirm, that now we have discovered war to be derived from causes which are also the causes of almost all the evils in states, private as well as public. undoubtedly. and our state must once more enlarge; and this time the will be nothing short of a whole army, which will have to go out and fight with the invaders for all that we have, as well as for the things and persons whom we were describing above. why? he said; are they not capable of defending themselves? no, i said; not if we were right in the principle which was acknowledged by all of us when we were framing the state: the principle, as you will remember, was that one man cannot practise many arts with success. very true, he said. but is not war an art? certainly. and an art requiring as much attention as shoemaking? quite true. and the shoemaker was not allowed by us to be husbandman, or a weaver, a builder--in order that we might have our shoes well made; but to him and to every other worker was assigned one work for which he was by nature fitted, and at that he was to continue working all his life long and at no other; he was not to let opportunities slip, and then he would become a good workman. now nothing can be more important than that the work of a soldier should be well done. but is war an art so easily acquired that a man may be a warrior who is also a husbandman, or shoemaker, or other artisan; although no one in the world would be a good dice or draught player who merely took up the game as a recreation, and had not from his earliest years devoted himself to this and nothing else? no tools will make a man a skilled workman, or master of defence, nor be of any use to him who has not learned how to handle them, and has never bestowed any attention upon them. how then will he who takes up a shield or other implement of war become a good fighter all in a day, whether with heavy-armed or any other kind of troops? yes, he said, the tools which would teach men their own use would be beyond price. and the higher the duties of the guardian, i said, the more time, and skill, and art, and application will be needed by him? no doubt, he replied. will he not also require natural aptitude for his calling? certainly. then it will be our duty to select, if we can, natures which are fitted for the task of guarding the city? it will. and the selection will be no easy matter, i said; but we must be brave and do our best. we must. is not the noble youth very like a well-bred dog in respect of guarding and watching? what do you mean? i mean that both of them ought to be quick to see, and swift to overtake the enemy when they see him; and strong too if, when they have caught him, they have to fight with him. all these qualities, he replied, will certainly be required by them. well, and your guardian must be brave if he is to fight well? certainly. and is he likely to be brave who has no spirit, whether horse or dog or any other animal? have you never observed how invincible and unconquerable is spirit and how the presence of it makes the soul of any creature to be absolutely fearless and indomitable? i have. then now we have a clear notion of the bodily qualities which are required in the guardian. true. and also of the mental ones; his soul is to be full of spirit? yes. but are not these spirited natures apt to be savage with one another, and with everybody else? a difficulty by no means easy to overcome, he replied. whereas, i said, they ought to be dangerous to their enemies, and gentle to their friends; if not, they will destroy themselves without waiting for their enemies to destroy them. true, he said. what is to be done then? i said; how shall we find a gentle nature which has also a great spirit, for the one is the contradiction of the other? true. he will not be a good guardian who is wanting in either of these two qualities; and yet the combination of them appears to be impossible; and hence we must infer that to be a good guardian is impossible. i am afraid that what you say is true, he replied. here feeling perplexed i began to think over what had preceded. my friend, i said, no wonder that we are in a perplexity; for we have lost sight of the image which we had before us. what do you mean? he said. i mean to say that there do exist natures gifted with those opposite qualities. and where do you find them? many animals, i replied, furnish examples of them; our friend the dog is a very good one: you know that well-bred dogs are perfectly gentle to their familiars and acquaintances, and the reverse to strangers. yes, i know. then there is nothing impossible or out of the order of nature in our finding a guardian who has a similar combination of qualities? certainly not. would not he who is fitted to be a guardian, besides the spirited nature, need to have the qualities of a philosopher? i do not apprehend your meaning. the trait of which i am speaking, i replied, may be also seen in the dog, and is remarkable in the animal. what trait? why, a dog, whenever he sees a stranger, is angry; when an acquaintance, he welcomes him, although the one has never done him any harm, nor the other any good. did this never strike you as curious? the matter never struck me before; but i quite recognise the truth of your remark. and surely this instinct of the dog is very charming;--your dog is a true philosopher. why? why, because he distinguishes the face of a friend and of an enemy only by the criterion of knowing and not knowing. and must not an animal be a lover of learning who determines what he likes and dislikes by the test of knowledge and ignorance? most assuredly. and is not the love of learning the love of wisdom, which is philosophy? they are the same, he replied. and may we not say confidently of man also, that he who is likely to be gentle to his friends and acquaintances, must by nature be a lover of wisdom and knowledge? that we may safely affirm. then he who is to be a really good and noble guardian of the state will require to unite in himself philosophy and spirit and swiftness and strength? undoubtedly. then we have found the desired natures; and now that we have found them, how are they to be reared and educated? is not this enquiry which may be expected to throw light on the greater enquiry which is our final end--how do justice and injustice grow up in states? for we do not want either to omit what is to the point or to draw out the argument to an inconvenient length. socrates - adeimantus adeimantus thought that the enquiry would be of great service to us. then, i said, my dear friend, the task must not be given up, even if somewhat long. certainly not. come then, and let us pass a leisure hour in story-telling, and our story shall be the education of our heroes. by all means. and what shall be their education? can we find a better than the traditional sort?--and this has two divisions, gymnastic for the body, and music for the soul. true. shall we begin education with music, and go on to gymnastic afterwards? by all means. and when you speak of music, do you include literature or not? i do. and literature may be either true or false? yes. and the young should be trained in both kinds, and we begin with the false? i do not understand your meaning, he said. you know, i said, that we begin by telling children stories which, though not wholly destitute of truth, are in the main fictitious; and these stories are told them when they are not of an age to learn gymnastics. very true. that was my meaning when i said that we must teach music before gymnastics. quite right, he said. you know also that the beginning is the most important part of any work, especially in the case of a young and tender thing; for that is the time at which the character is being formed and the desired impression is more readily taken. quite true. and shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales which may be devised by casual persons, and to receive into their minds ideas for the most part the very opposite of those which we should wish them to have when they are grown up? we cannot. then the first thing will be to establish a censorship of the writers of fiction, and let the censors receive any tale of fiction which is good, and reject the bad; and we will desire mothers and nurses to tell their children the authorised ones only. let them fashion the mind with such tales, even more fondly than they mould the body with their hands; but most of those which are now in use must be discarded. of what tales are you speaking? he said. you may find a model of the lesser in the greater, i said; for they are necessarily of the same type, and there is the same spirit in both of them. very likely, he replied; but i do not as yet know what you would term the greater. those, i said, which are narrated by homer and hesiod, and the rest of the poets, who have ever been the great story-tellers of mankind. but which stories do you mean, he said; and what fault do you find with them? a fault which is most serious, i said; the fault of telling a lie, and, what is more, a bad lie. but when is this fault committed? whenever an erroneous representation is made of the nature of gods and heroes,--as when a painter paints a portrait not having the shadow of a likeness to the original. yes, he said, that sort of thing is certainly very blamable; but what are the stories which you mean? first of all, i said, there was that greatest of all lies, in high places, which the poet told about uranus, and which was a bad lie too,--i mean what hesiod says that uranus did, and how cronus retaliated on him. the doings of cronus, and the sufferings which in turn his son inflicted upon him, even if they were true, ought certainly not to be lightly told to young and thoughtless persons; if possible, they had better be buried in silence. but if there is an absolute necessity for their mention, a chosen few might hear them in a mystery, and they should sacrifice not a common [eleusinian] pig, but some huge and unprocurable victim; and then the number of the hearers will be very few indeed. why, yes, said he, those stories are extremely objectionable. yes, adeimantus, they are stories not to be repeated in our state; the young man should not be told that in committing the worst of crimes he is far from doing anything outrageous; and that even if he chastises his father when does wrong, in whatever manner, he will only be following the example of the first and greatest among the gods. i entirely agree with you, he said; in my opinion those stories are quite unfit to be repeated. neither, if we mean our future guardians to regard the habit of quarrelling among themselves as of all things the basest, should any word be said to them of the wars in heaven, and of the plots and fightings of the gods against one another, for they are not true. no, we shall never mention the battles of the giants, or let them be embroidered on garments; and we shall be silent about the innumerable other quarrels of gods and heroes with their friends and relatives. if they would only believe us we would tell them that quarrelling is unholy, and that never up to this time has there been any, quarrel between citizens; this is what old men and old women should begin by telling children; and when they grow up, the poets also should be told to compose for them in a similar spirit. but the narrative of hephaestus binding here his mother, or how on another occasion zeus sent him flying for taking her part when she was being beaten, and all the battles of the gods in homer--these tales must not be admitted into our state, whether they are supposed to have an allegorical meaning or not. for a young person cannot judge what is allegorical and what is literal; anything that he receives into his mind at that age is likely to become indelible and unalterable; and therefore it is most important that the tales which the young first hear should be models of virtuous thoughts. there you are right, he replied; but if any one asks where are such models to be found and of what tales are you speaking--how shall we answer him? i said to him, you and i, adeimantus, at this moment are not poets, but founders of a state: now the founders of a state ought to know the general forms in which poets should cast their tales, and the limits which must be observed by them, but to make the tales is not their business. very true, he said; but what are these forms of theology which you mean? something of this kind, i replied:--god is always to be represented as he truly is, whatever be the sort of poetry, epic, lyric or tragic, in which the representation is given. right. and is he not truly good? and must he not be represented as such? certainly. and no good thing is hurtful? no, indeed. and that which is not hurtful hurts not? certainly not. and that which hurts not does no evil? no. and can that which does no evil be a cause of evil? impossible. and the good is advantageous? yes. and therefore the cause of well-being? yes. it follows therefore that the good is not the cause of all things, but of the good only? assuredly. then god, if he be good, is not the author of all things, as the many assert, but he is the cause of a few things only, and not of most things that occur to men. for few are the goods of human life, and many are the evils, and the good is to be attributed to god alone; of the evils the causes are to be sought elsewhere, and not in him. that appears to me to be most true, he said. then we must not listen to homer or to any other poet who is guilty of the folly of saying that two casks lie at the threshold of zeus, full of lots, one of good, the other of evil lots, and that he to whom zeus gives a mixture of the two sometimes meets with evil fortune, at other times with good; but that he to whom is given the cup of unmingled ill, him wild hunger drives o'er the beauteous earth. and again zeus, who is the dispenser of good and evil to us. and if any one asserts that the violation of oaths and treaties, which was really the work of pandarus, was brought about by athene and zeus, or that the strife and contention of the gods was instigated by themis and zeus, he shall not have our approval; neither will we allow our young men to hear the words of aeschylus, that god plants guilt among men when he desires utterly to destroy a house. and if a poet writes of the sufferings of niobe--the subject of the tragedy in which these iambic verses occur--or of the house of pelops, or of the trojan war or on any similar theme, either we must not permit him to say that these are the works of god, or if they are of god, he must devise some explanation of them such as we are seeking; he must say that god did what was just and right, and they were the better for being punished; but that those who are punished are miserable, and that god is the author of their misery--the poet is not to be permitted to say; though he may say that the wicked are miserable because they require to be punished, and are benefited by receiving punishment from god; but that god being good is the author of evil to any one is to be strenuously denied, and not to be said or sung or heard in verse or prose by any one whether old or young in any well-ordered commonwealth. such a fiction is suicidal, ruinous, impious. i agree with you, he replied, and am ready to give my assent to the law. let this then be one of our rules and principles concerning the gods, to which our poets and reciters will be expected to conform--that god is not the author of all things, but of good only. that will do, he said. and what do you think of a second principle? shall i ask you whether god is a magician, and of a nature to appear insidiously now in one shape, and now in another--sometimes himself changing and passing into many forms, sometimes deceiving us with the semblance of such transformations; or is he one and the same immutably fixed in his own proper image? i cannot answer you, he said, without more thought. well, i said; but if we suppose a change in anything, that change must be effected either by the thing itself, or by some other thing? most certainly. and things which are at their best are also least liable to be altered or discomposed; for example, when healthiest and strongest, the human frame is least liable to be affected by meats and drinks, and the plant which is in the fullest vigour also suffers least from winds or the heat of the sun or any similar causes. of course. and will not the bravest and wisest soul be least confused or deranged by any external influence? true. and the same principle, as i should suppose, applies to all composite things--furniture, houses, garments; when good and well made, they are least altered by time and circumstances. very true. then everything which is good, whether made by art or nature, or both, is least liable to suffer change from without? true. but surely god and the things of god are in every way perfect? of course they are. then he can hardly be compelled by external influence to take many shapes? he cannot. but may he not change and transform himself? clearly, he said, that must be the case if he is changed at all. and will he then change himself for the better and fairer, or for the worse and more unsightly? if he change at all he can only change for the worse, for we cannot suppose him to be deficient either in virtue or beauty. very true, adeimantus; but then, would any one, whether god or man, desire to make himself worse? impossible. then it is impossible that god should ever be willing to change; being, as is supposed, the fairest and best that is conceivable, every god remains absolutely and for ever in his own form. that necessarily follows, he said, in my judgment. then, i said, my dear friend, let none of the poets tell us that the gods, taking the disguise of strangers from other lands, walk up and down cities in all sorts of forms; and let no one slander proteus and thetis, neither let any one, either in tragedy or in any other kind of poetry, introduce here disguised in the likeness of a priestess asking an alms for the life-giving daughters of inachus the river of argos; --let us have no more lies of that sort. neither must we have mothers under the influence of the poets scaring their children with a bad version of these myths--telling how certain gods, as they say, 'go about by night in the likeness of so many strangers and in divers forms'; but let them take heed lest they make cowards of their children, and at the same time speak blasphemy against the gods. heaven forbid, he said. but although the gods are themselves unchangeable, still by witchcraft and deception they may make us think that they appear in various forms? perhaps, he replied. well, but can you imagine that god will be willing to lie, whether in word or deed, or to put forth a phantom of himself? i cannot say, he replied. do you not know, i said, that the true lie, if such an expression may be allowed, is hated of gods and men? what do you mean? he said. i mean that no one is willingly deceived in that which is the truest and highest part of himself, or about the truest and highest matters; there, above all, he is most afraid of a lie having possession of him. still, he said, i do not comprehend you. the reason is, i replied, that you attribute some profound meaning to my words; but i am only saying that deception, or being deceived or uninformed about the highest realities in the highest part of themselves, which is the soul, and in that part of them to have and to hold the lie, is what mankind least like;--that, i say, is what they utterly detest. there is nothing more hateful to them. and, as i was just now remarking, this ignorance in the soul of him who is deceived may be called the true lie; for the lie in words is only a kind of imitation and shadowy image of a previous affection of the soul, not pure unadulterated falsehood. am i not right? perfectly right. the true lie is hated not only by the gods, but also by men? yes. whereas the lie in words is in certain cases useful and not hateful; in dealing with enemies--that would be an instance; or again, when those whom we call our friends in a fit of madness or illusion are going to do some harm, then it is useful and is a sort of medicine or preventive; also in the tales of mythology, of which we were just now speaking--because we do not know the truth about ancient times, we make falsehood as much like truth as we can, and so turn it to account. very true, he said. but can any of these reasons apply to god? can we suppose that he is ignorant of antiquity, and therefore has recourse to invention? that would be ridiculous, he said. then the lying poet has no place in our idea of god? i should say not. or perhaps he may tell a lie because he is afraid of enemies? that is inconceivable. but he may have friends who are senseless or mad? but no mad or senseless person can be a friend of god. then no motive can be imagined why god should lie? none whatever. then the superhuman and divine is absolutely incapable of falsehood? yes. then is god perfectly simple and true both in word and deed; he changes not; he deceives not, either by sign or word, by dream or waking vision. your thoughts, he said, are the reflection of my own. you agree with me then, i said, that this is the second type or form in which we should write and speak about divine things. the gods are not magicians who transform themselves, neither do they deceive mankind in any way. i grant that. then, although we are admirers of homer, we do not admire the lying dream which zeus sends to agamemnon; neither will we praise the verses of aeschylus in which thetis says that apollo at her nuptials was celebrating in song her fair progeny whose days were to be long, and to know no sickness. and when he had spoken of my lot as in all things blessed of heaven he raised a note of triumph and cheered my soul. and i thought that the word of phoebus being divine and full of prophecy, would not fail. and now he himself who uttered the strain, he who was present at the banquet, and who said this--he it is who has slain my son. these are the kind of sentiments about the gods which will arouse our anger; and he who utters them shall be refused a chorus; neither shall we allow teachers to make use of them in the instruction of the young, meaning, as we do, that our guardians, as far as men can be, should be true worshippers of the gods and like them. i entirely agree, be said, in these principles, and promise to make them my laws. book iii socrates - adeimantus such then, i said, are our principles of theology--some tales are to be told, and others are not to be told to our disciples from their youth upwards, if we mean them to honour the gods and their parents, and to value friendship with one another. yes; and i think that our principles are right, he said. but if they are to be courageous, must they not learn other lessons besides these, and lessons of such a kind as will take away the fear of death? can any man be courageous who has the fear of death in him? certainly not, he said. and can he be fearless of death, or will he choose death in battle rather than defeat and slavery, who believes the world below to be real and terrible? impossible. then we must assume a control over the narrators of this class of tales as well as over the others, and beg them not simply to but rather to commend the world below, intimating to them that their descriptions are untrue, and will do harm to our future warriors. that will be our duty, he said. then, i said, we shall have to obliterate many obnoxious passages, beginning with the verses, i would rather he a serf on the land of a poor and portionless man than rule over all the dead who have come to nought. we must also expunge the verse, which tells us how pluto feared, lest the mansions grim and squalid which the gods abhor should be seen both of mortals and immortals. and again: o heavens! verily in the house of hades there is soul and ghostly form but no mind at all! again of tiresias:-- [to him even after death did persephone grant mind,] that he alone should be wise; but the other souls are flitting shades. again:-- the soul flying from the limbs had gone to hades, lamentng her fate, leaving manhood and youth. again:-- and the soul, with shrilling cry, passed like smoke beneath the earth. and,-- as bats in hollow of mystic cavern, whenever any of the has dropped out of the string and falls from the rock, fly shrilling and cling to one another, so did they with shrilling cry hold together as they moved. and we must beg homer and the other poets not to be angry if we strike out these and similar passages, not because they are unpoetical, or unattractive to the popular ear, but because the greater the poetical charm of them, the less are they meet for the ears of boys and men who are meant to be free, and who should fear slavery more than death. undoubtedly. also we shall have to reject all the terrible and appalling names describe the world below--cocytus and styx, ghosts under the earth, and sapless shades, and any similar words of which the very mention causes a shudder to pass through the inmost soul of him who hears them. i do not say that these horrible stories may not have a use of some kind; but there is a danger that the nerves of our guardians may be rendered too excitable and effeminate by them. there is a real danger, he said. then we must have no more of them. true. another and a nobler strain must be composed and sung by us. clearly. and shall we proceed to get rid of the weepings and wailings of famous men? they will go with the rest. but shall we be right in getting rid of them? reflect: our principle is that the good man will not consider death terrible to any other good man who is his comrade. yes; that is our principle. and therefore he will not sorrow for his departed friend as though he had suffered anything terrible? he will not. such an one, as we further maintain, is sufficient for himself and his own happiness, and therefore is least in need of other men. true, he said. and for this reason the loss of a son or brother, or the deprivation of fortune, is to him of all men least terrible. assuredly. and therefore he will be least likely to lament, and will bear with the greatest equanimity any misfortune of this sort which may befall him. yes, he will feel such a misfortune far less than another. then we shall be right in getting rid of the lamentations of famous men, and making them over to women (and not even to women who are good for anything), or to men of a baser sort, that those who are being educated by us to be the defenders of their country may scorn to do the like. that will be very right. then we will once more entreat homer and the other poets not to depict achilles, who is the son of a goddess, first lying on his side, then on his back, and then on his face; then starting up and sailing in a frenzy along the shores of the barren sea; now taking the sooty ashes in both his hands and pouring them over his head, or weeping and wailing in the various modes which homer has delineated. nor should he describe priam the kinsman of the gods as praying and beseeching, rolling in the dirt, calling each man loudly by his name. still more earnestly will we beg of him at all events not to introduce the gods lamenting and saying, alas! my misery! alas! that i bore the harvest to my sorrow. but if he must introduce the gods, at any rate let him not dare so completely to misrepresent the greatest of the gods, as to make him say-- o heavens! with my eyes verily i behold a dear friend of mine chased round and round the city, and my heart is sorrowful. or again:-- woe is me that i am fated to have sarpedon, dearest of men to me, subdued at the hands of patroclus the son of menoetius. for if, my sweet adeimantus, our youth seriously listen to such unworthy representations of the gods, instead of laughing at them as they ought, hardly will any of them deem that he himself, being but a man, can be dishonoured by similar actions; neither will he rebuke any inclination which may arise in his mind to say and do the like. and instead of having any shame or self-control, he will be always whining and lamenting on slight occasions. yes, he said, that is most true. yes, i replied; but that surely is what ought not to be, as the argument has just proved to us; and by that proof we must abide until it is disproved by a better. it ought not to be. neither ought our guardians to be given to laughter. for a fit of laughter which has been indulged to excess almost always produces a violent reaction. so i believe. then persons of worth, even if only mortal men, must not be represented as overcome by laughter, and still less must such a representation of the gods be allowed. still less of the gods, as you say, he replied. then we shall not suffer such an expression to be used about the gods as that of homer when he describes how inextinguishable laughter arose among the blessed gods, when they saw hephaestus bustling about the mansion. on your views, we must not admit them. on my views, if you like to father them on me; that we must not admit them is certain. again, truth should be highly valued; if, as we were saying, a lie is useless to the gods, and useful only as a medicine to men, then the use of such medicines should be restricted to physicians; private individuals have no business with them. clearly not, he said. then if any one at all is to have the privilege of lying, the rulers of the state should be the persons; and they, in their dealings either with enemies or with their own citizens, may be allowed to lie for the public good. but nobody else should meddle with anything of the kind; and although the rulers have this privilege, for a private man to lie to them in return is to be deemed a more heinous fault than for the patient or the pupil of a gymnasium not to speak the truth about his own bodily illnesses to the physician or to the trainer, or for a sailor not to tell the captain what is happening about the ship and the rest of the crew, and how things are going with himself or his fellow sailors. most true, he said. if, then, the ruler catches anybody beside himself lying in the state, any of the craftsmen, whether he priest or physician or carpenter. he will punish him for introducing a practice which is equally subversive and destructive of ship or state. most certainly, he said, if our idea of the state is ever carried out. in the next place our youth must be temperate? certainly. are not the chief elements of temperance, speaking generally, obedience to commanders and self-control in sensual pleasures? true. then we shall approve such language as that of diomede in homer, friend, sit still and obey my word, and the verses which follow, the greeks marched breathing prowess, ...in silent awe of their leaders, and other sentiments of the same kind. we shall. what of this line, o heavy with wine, who hast the eyes of a dog and the heart of a stag, and of the words which follow? would you say that these, or any similar impertinences which private individuals are supposed to address to their rulers, whether in verse or prose, are well or ill spoken? they are ill spoken. they may very possibly afford some amusement, but they do not conduce to temperance. and therefore they are likely to do harm to our young men--you would agree with me there? yes. and then, again, to make the wisest of men say that nothing in his opinion is more glorious than when the tables are full of bread and meat, and the cup-bearer carries round wine which he draws from the bowl and pours into the cups, is it fit or conducive to temperance for a young man to hear such words? or the verse the saddest of fates is to die and meet destiny from hunger? what would you say again to the tale of zeus, who, while other gods and men were asleep and he the only person awake, lay devising plans, but forgot them all in a moment through his lust, and was so completely overcome at the sight of here that he would not even go into the hut, but wanted to lie with her on the ground, declaring that he had never been in such a state of rapture before, even when they first met one another without the knowledge of their parents; or that other tale of how hephaestus, because of similar goings on, cast a chain around ares and aphrodite? indeed, he said, i am strongly of opinion that they ought not to hear that sort of thing. but any deeds of endurance which are done or told by famous men, these they ought to see and hear; as, for example, what is said in the verses, he smote his breast, and thus reproached his heart, endure, my heart; far worse hast thou endured! certainly, he said. in the next place, we must not let them be receivers of gifts or lovers of money. certainly not. neither must we sing to them of gifts persuading gods, and persuading reverend kings. neither is phoenix, the tutor of achilles, to be approved or deemed to have given his pupil good counsel when he told him that he should take the gifts of the greeks and assist them; but that without a gift he should not lay aside his anger. neither will we believe or acknowledge achilles himself to have been such a lover of money that he took agamemnon's or that when he had received payment he restored the dead body of hector, but that without payment he was unwilling to do so. undoubtedly, he said, these are not sentiments which can be approved. loving homer as i do, i hardly like to say that in attributing these feelings to achilles, or in believing that they are truly to him, he is guilty of downright impiety. as little can i believe the narrative of his insolence to apollo, where he says, thou hast wronged me, o far-darter, most abominable of deities. verily i would he even with thee, if i had only the power, or his insubordination to the river-god, on whose divinity he is ready to lay hands; or his offering to the dead patroclus of his own hair, which had been previously dedicated to the other river-god spercheius, and that he actually performed this vow; or that he dragged hector round the tomb of patroclus, and slaughtered the captives at the pyre; of all this i cannot believe that he was guilty, any more than i can allow our citizens to believe that he, the wise cheiron's pupil, the son of a goddess and of peleus who was the gentlest of men and third in descent from zeus, was so disordered in his wits as to be at one time the slave of two seemingly inconsistent passions, meanness, not untainted by avarice, combined with overweening contempt of gods and men. you are quite right, he replied. and let us equally refuse to believe, or allow to be repeated, the tale of theseus son of poseidon, or of peirithous son of zeus, going forth as they did to perpetrate a horrid rape; or of any other hero or son of a god daring to do such impious and dreadful things as they falsely ascribe to them in our day: and let us further compel the poets to declare either that these acts were not done by them, or that they were not the sons of gods;--both in the same breath they shall not be permitted to affirm. we will not have them trying to persuade our youth that the gods are the authors of evil, and that heroes are no better than men-sentiments which, as we were saying, are neither pious nor true, for we have already proved that evil cannot come from the gods. assuredly not. and further they are likely to have a bad effect on those who hear them; for everybody will begin to excuse his own vices when he is convinced that similar wickednesses are always being perpetrated by-- the kindred of the gods, the relatives of zeus, whose ancestral altar, the attar of zeus, is aloft in air on the peak of ida, and who have the blood of deities yet flowing in their veins. and therefore let us put an end to such tales, lest they engender laxity of morals among the young. by all means, he replied. but now that we are determining what classes of subjects are or are not to be spoken of, let us see whether any have been omitted by us. the manner in which gods and demigods and heroes and the world below should be treated has been already laid down. very true. and what shall we say about men? that is clearly the remaining portion of our subject. clearly so. but we are not in a condition to answer this question at present, my friend. why not? because, if i am not mistaken, we shall have to say that about men poets and story-tellers are guilty of making the gravest misstatements when they tell us that wicked men are often happy, and the good miserable; and that injustice is profitable when undetected, but that justice is a man's own loss and another's gain--these things we shall forbid them to utter, and command them to sing and say the opposite. to be sure we shall, he replied. but if you admit that i am right in this, then i shall maintain that you have implied the principle for which we have been all along contending. i grant the truth of your inference. that such things are or are not to be said about men is a question which we cannot determine until we have discovered what justice is, and how naturally advantageous to the possessor, whether he seems to be just or not. most true, he said. enough of the subjects of poetry: let us now speak of the style; and when this has been considered, both matter and manner will have been completely treated. i do not understand what you mean, said adeimantus. then i must make you understand; and perhaps i may be more intelligible if i put the matter in this way. you are aware, i suppose, that all mythology and poetry is a narration of events, either past, present, or to come? certainly, he replied. and narration may be either simple narration, or imitation, or a union of the two? that again, he said, i do not quite understand. i fear that i must be a ridiculous teacher when i have so much difficulty in making myself apprehended. like a bad speaker, therefore, i will not take the whole of the subject, but will break a piece off in illustration of my meaning. you know the first lines of the iliad, in which the poet says that chryses prayed agamemnon to release his daughter, and that agamemnon flew into a passion with him; whereupon chryses, failing of his object, invoked the anger of the god against the achaeans. now as far as these lines, and he prayed all the greeks, but especially the two sons of atreus, the chiefs of the people, the poet is speaking in his own person; he never leads us to suppose that he is any one else. but in what follows he takes the person of chryses, and then he does all that he can to make us believe that the speaker is not homer, but the aged priest himself. and in this double form he has cast the entire narrative of the events which occurred at troy and in ithaca and throughout the odyssey. yes. and a narrative it remains both in the speeches which the poet recites from time to time and in the intermediate passages? quite true. but when the poet speaks in the person of another, may we not say that he assimilates his style to that of the person who, as he informs you, is going to speak? certainly. and this assimilation of himself to another, either by the use of voice or gesture, is the imitation of the person whose character he assumes? of course. then in this case the narrative of the poet may be said to proceed by way of imitation? very true. or, if the poet everywhere appears and never conceals himself, then again the imitation is dropped, and his poetry becomes simple narration. however, in order that i may make my meaning quite clear, and that you may no more say, i don't understand,' i will show how the change might be effected. if homer had said, 'the priest came, having his daughter's ransom in his hands, supplicating the achaeans, and above all the kings;' and then if, instead of speaking in the person of chryses, he had continued in his own person, the words would have been, not imitation, but simple narration. the passage would have run as follows (i am no poet, and therefore i drop the metre), 'the priest came and prayed the gods on behalf of the greeks that they might capture troy and return safely home, but begged that they would give him back his daughter, and take the ransom which he brought, and respect the god. thus he spoke, and the other greeks revered the priest and assented. but agamemnon was wroth, and bade him depart and not come again, lest the staff and chaplets of the god should be of no avail to him--the daughter of chryses should not be released, he said--she should grow old with him in argos. and then he told him to go away and not to provoke him, if he intended to get home unscathed. and the old man went away in fear and silence, and, when he had left the camp, he called upon apollo by his many names, reminding him of everything which he had done pleasing to him, whether in building his temples, or in offering sacrifice, and praying that his good deeds might be returned to him, and that the achaeans might expiate his tears by the arrows of the god,'--and so on. in this way the whole becomes simple narrative. i understand, he said. or you may suppose the opposite case--that the intermediate passages are omitted, and the dialogue only left. that also, he said, i understand; you mean, for example, as in tragedy. you have conceived my meaning perfectly; and if i mistake not, what you failed to apprehend before is now made clear to you, that poetry and mythology are, in some cases, wholly imitative--instances of this are supplied by tragedy and comedy; there is likewise the opposite style, in which the my poet is the only speaker--of this the dithyramb affords the best example; and the combination of both is found in epic, and in several other styles of poetry. do i take you with me? yes, he said; i see now what you meant. i will ask you to remember also what i began by saying, that we had done with the subject and might proceed to the style. yes, i remember. in saying this, i intended to imply that we must come to an understanding about the mimetic art,--whether the poets, in narrating their stories, are to be allowed by us to imitate, and if so, whether in whole or in part, and if the latter, in what parts; or should all imitation be prohibited? you mean, i suspect, to ask whether tragedy and comedy shall be admitted into our state? yes, i said; but there may be more than this in question: i really do not know as yet, but whither the argument may blow, thither we go. and go we will, he said. then, adeimantus, let me ask you whether our guardians ought to be imitators; or rather, has not this question been decided by the rule already laid down that one man can only do one thing well, and not many; and that if he attempt many, he will altogether fall of gaining much reputation in any? certainly. and this is equally true of imitation; no one man can imitate many things as well as he would imitate a single one? he cannot. then the same person will hardly be able to play a serious part in life, and at the same time to be an imitator and imitate many other parts as well; for even when two species of imitation are nearly allied, the same persons cannot succeed in both, as, for example, the writers of tragedy and comedy--did you not just now call them imitations? yes, i did; and you are right in thinking that the same persons cannot succeed in both. any more than they can be rhapsodists and actors at once? true. neither are comic and tragic actors the same; yet all these things are but imitations. they are so. and human nature, adeimantus, appears to have been coined into yet smaller pieces, and to be as incapable of imitating many things well, as of performing well the actions of which the imitations are copies. quite true, he replied. if then we adhere to our original notion and bear in mind that our guardians, setting aside every other business, are to dedicate themselves wholly to the maintenance of freedom in the state, making this their craft, and engaging in no work which does not bear on this end, they ought not to practise or imitate anything else; if they imitate at all, they should imitate from youth upward only those characters which are suitable to their profession--the courageous, temperate, holy, free, and the like; but they should not depict or be skilful at imitating any kind of illiberality or baseness, lest from imitation they should come to be what they imitate. did you never observe how imitations, beginning in early youth and continuing far into life, at length grow into habits and become a second nature, affecting body, voice, and mind? yes, certainly, he said. then, i said, we will not allow those for whom we profess a care and of whom we say that they ought to be good men, to imitate a woman, whether young or old, quarrelling with her husband, or striving and vaunting against the gods in conceit of her happiness, or when she is in affliction, or sorrow, or weeping; and certainly not one who is in sickness, love, or labour. very right, he said. neither must they represent slaves, male or female, performing the offices of slaves? they must not. and surely not bad men, whether cowards or any others, who do the reverse of what we have just been prescribing, who scold or mock or revile one another in drink or out of in drink or, or who in any other manner sin against themselves and their neighbours in word or deed, as the manner of such is. neither should they be trained to imitate the action or speech of men or women who are mad or bad; for madness, like vice, is to be known but not to be practised or imitated. very true, he replied. neither may they imitate smiths or other artificers, or oarsmen, or boatswains, or the like? how can they, he said, when they are not allowed to apply their minds to the callings of any of these? nor may they imitate the neighing of horses, the bellowing of bulls, the murmur of rivers and roll of the ocean, thunder, and all that sort of thing? nay, he said, if madness be forbidden, neither may they copy the behaviour of madmen. you mean, i said, if i understand you aright, that there is one sort of narrative style which may be employed by a truly good man when he has anything to say, and that another sort will be used by a man of an opposite character and education. and which are these two sorts? he asked. suppose, i answered, that a just and good man in the course of a narration comes on some saying or action of another good man,--i should imagine that he will like to personate him, and will not be ashamed of this sort of imitation: he will be most ready to play the part of the good man when he is acting firmly and wisely; in a less degree when he is overtaken by illness or love or drink, or has met with any other disaster. but when he comes to a character which is unworthy of him, he will not make a study of that; he will disdain such a person, and will assume his likeness, if at all, for a moment only when he is performing some good action; at other times he will be ashamed to play a part which he has never practised, nor will he like to fashion and frame himself after the baser models; he feels the employment of such an art, unless in jest, to be beneath him, and his mind revolts at it. so i should expect, he replied. then he will adopt a mode of narration such as we have illustrated out of homer, that is to say, his style will be both imitative and narrative; but there will be very little of the former, and a great deal of the latter. do you agree? certainly, he said; that is the model which such a speaker must necessarily take. but there is another sort of character who will narrate anything, and, the worse lie is, the more unscrupulous he will be; nothing will be too bad for him: and he will be ready to imitate anything, not as a joke, but in right good earnest, and before a large company. as i was just now saying, he will attempt to represent the roll of thunder, the noise of wind and hall, or the creaking of wheels, and pulleys, and the various sounds of flutes; pipes, trumpets, and all sorts of instruments: he will bark like a dog, bleat like a sheep, or crow like a cock; his entire art will consist in imitation of voice and gesture, and there will be very little narration. that, he said, will be his mode of speaking. these, then, are the two kinds of style? yes. and you would agree with me in saying that one of them is simple and has but slight changes; and if the harmony and rhythm are also chosen for their simplicity, the result is that the speaker, if he speaks correctly, is always pretty much the same in style, and he will keep within the limits of a single harmony (for the changes are not great), and in like manner he will make use of nearly the same rhythm? that is quite true, he said. whereas the other requires all sorts of harmonies and all sorts of rhythms, if the music and the style are to correspond, because the style has all sorts of changes. that is also perfectly true, he replied. and do not the two styles, or the mixture of the two, comprehend all poetry, and every form of expression in words? no one can say anything except in one or other of them or in both together. they include all, he said. and shall we receive into our state all the three styles, or one only of the two unmixed styles? or would you include the mixed? i should prefer only to admit the pure imitator of virtue. yes, i said, adeimantus, but the mixed style is also very charming: and indeed the pantomimic, which is the opposite of the one chosen by you, is the most popular style with children and their attendants, and with the world in general. i do not deny it. but i suppose you would argue that such a style is unsuitable to our state, in which human nature is not twofold or manifold, for one man plays one part only? yes; quite unsuitable. and this is the reason why in our state, and in our state only, we shall find a shoemaker to be a shoemaker and not a pilot also, and a husbandman to be a husbandman and not a dicast also, and a soldier a soldier and not a trader also, and the same throughout? true, he said. and therefore when any one of these pantomimic gentlemen, who are so clever that they can imitate anything, comes to us, and makes a proposal to exhibit himself and his poetry, we will fall down and worship him as a sweet and holy and wonderful being; but we must also inform him that in our state such as he are not permitted to exist; the law will not allow them. and so when we have anointed him with myrrh, and set a garland of wool upon his head, we shall send him away to another city. for we mean to employ for our souls' health the rougher and severer poet or story-teller, who will imitate the style of the virtuous only, and will follow those models which we prescribed at first when we began the education of our soldiers. we certainly will, he said, if we have the power. then now, my friend, i said, that part of music or literary education which relates to the story or myth may be considered to be finished; for the matter and manner have both been discussed. i think so too, he said. next in order will follow melody and song. that is obvious. every one can see already what we ought to say about them, if we are to be consistent with ourselves. socrates - glaucon i fear, said glaucon, laughing, that the words 'every one' hardly includes me, for i cannot at the moment say what they should be; though i may guess. at any rate you can tell that a song or ode has three parts--the words, the melody, and the rhythm; that degree of knowledge i may presuppose? yes, he said; so much as that you may. and as for the words, there surely be no difference words between words which are and which are not set to music; both will conform to the same laws, and these have been already determined by us? yes. and the melody and rhythm will depend upon the words? certainly. we were saying, when we spoke of the subject-matter, that we had no need of lamentations and strains of sorrow? true. and which are the harmonies expressive of sorrow? you are musical, and can tell me. the harmonies which you mean are the mixed or tenor lydian, and the full-toned or bass lydian, and such like. these then, i said, must be banished; even to women who have a character to maintain they are of no use, and much less to men. certainly. in the next place, drunkenness and softness and indolence are utterly unbecoming the character of our guardians. utterly unbecoming. and which are the soft or drinking harmonies? the ionian, he replied, and the lydian; they are termed 'relaxed.' well, and are these of any military use? quite the reverse, he replied; and if so the dorian and the phrygian are the only ones which you have left. i answered: of the harmonies i know nothing, but i want to have one warlike, to sound the note or accent which a brave man utters in the hour of danger and stern resolve, or when his cause is failing, and he is going to wounds or death or is overtaken by some other evil, and at every such crisis meets the blows of fortune with firm step and a determination to endure; and another to be used by him in times of peace and freedom of action, when there is no pressure of necessity, and he is seeking to persuade god by prayer, or man by instruction and admonition, or on the other hand, when he is expressing his willingness to yield to persuasion or entreaty or admonition, and which represents him when by prudent conduct he has attained his end, not carried away by his success, but acting moderately and wisely under the circumstances, and acquiescing in the event. these two harmonies i ask you to leave; the strain of necessity and the strain of freedom, the strain of the unfortunate and the strain of the fortunate, the strain of courage, and the strain of temperance; these, i say, leave. and these, he replied, are the dorian and phrygian harmonies of which i was just now speaking. then, i said, if these and these only are to be used in our songs and melodies, we shall not want multiplicity of notes or a panharmonic scale? i suppose not. then we shall not maintain the artificers of lyres with three corners and complex scales, or the makers of any other many-stringed curiously-harmonised instruments? certainly not. but what do you say to flute-makers and flute-players? would you admit them into our state when you reflect that in this composite use of harmony the flute is worse than all the stringed instruments put together; even the panharmonic music is only an imitation of the flute? clearly not. there remain then only the lyre and the harp for use in the city, and the shepherds may have a pipe in the country. that is surely the conclusion to be drawn from the argument. the preferring of apollo and his instruments to marsyas and his instruments is not at all strange, i said. not at all, he replied. and so, by the dog of egypt, we have been unconsciously purging the state, which not long ago we termed luxurious. and we have done wisely, he replied. then let us now finish the purgation, i said. next in order to harmonies, rhythms will naturally follow, and they should be subject to the same rules, for we ought not to seek out complex systems of metre, or metres of every kind, but rather to discover what rhythms are the expressions of a courageous and harmonious life; and when we have found them, we shall adapt the foot and the melody to words having a like spirit, not the words to the foot and melody. to say what these rhythms are will be your duty--you must teach me them, as you have already taught me the harmonies. but, indeed, he replied, i cannot tell you. i only know that there are some three principles of rhythm out of which metrical systems are framed, just as in sounds there are four notes out of which all the harmonies are composed; that is an observation which i have made. but of what sort of lives they are severally the imitations i am unable to say. then, i said, we must take damon into our counsels; and he will tell us what rhythms are expressive of meanness, or insolence, or fury, or other unworthiness, and what are to be reserved for the expression of opposite feelings. and i think that i have an indistinct recollection of his mentioning a complex cretic rhythm; also a dactylic or heroic, and he arranged them in some manner which i do not quite understand, making the rhythms equal in the rise and fall of the foot, long and short alternating; and, unless i am mistaken, he spoke of an iambic as well as of a trochaic rhythm, and assigned to them short and long quantities. also in some cases he appeared to praise or censure the movement of the foot quite as much as the rhythm; or perhaps a combination of the two; for i am not certain what he meant. these matters, however, as i was saying, had better be referred to damon himself, for the analysis of the subject would be difficult, you know. rather so, i should say. but there is no difficulty in seeing that grace or the absence of grace is an effect of good or bad rhythm. none at all. and also that good and bad rhythm naturally assimilate to a good and bad style; and that harmony and discord in like manner follow style; for our principle is that rhythm and harmony are regulated by the words, and not the words by them. just so, he said, they should follow the words. and will not the words and the character of the style depend on the temper of the soul? yes. and everything else on the style? yes. then beauty of style and harmony and grace and good rhythm depend on simplicity,--i mean the true simplicity of a rightly and nobly ordered mind and character, not that other simplicity which is only an euphemism for folly? very true, he replied. and if our youth are to do their work in life, must they not make these graces and harmonies their perpetual aim? they must. and surely the art of the painter and every other creative and constructive art are full of them,--weaving, embroidery, architecture, and every kind of manufacture; also nature, animal and vegetable,--in all of them there is grace or the absence of grace. and ugliness and discord and inharmonious motion are nearly allied to ill words and ill nature, as grace and harmony are the twin sisters of goodness and virtue and bear their likeness. that is quite true, he said. but shall our superintendence go no further, and are the poets only to be required by us to express the image of the good in their works, on pain, if they do anything else, of expulsion from our state? or is the same control to be extended to other artists, and are they also to be prohibited from exhibiting the opposite forms of vice and intemperance and meanness and indecency in sculpture and building and the other creative arts; and is he who cannot conform to this rule of ours to be prevented from practising his art in our state, lest the taste of our citizens be corrupted by him? we would not have our guardians grow up amid images of moral deformity, as in some noxious pasture, and there browse and feed upon many a baneful herb and flower day by day, little by little, until they silently gather a festering mass of corruption in their own soul. let our artists rather be those who are gifted to discern the true nature of the beautiful and graceful; then will our youth dwell in a land of health, amid fair sights and sounds, and receive the good in everything; and beauty, the effluence of fair works, shall flow into the eye and ear, like a health-giving breeze from a purer region, and insensibly draw the soul from earliest years into likeness and sympathy with the beauty of reason. there can be no nobler training than that, he replied. and therefore, i said, glaucon, musical training is a more potent instrument than any other, because rhythm and harmony find their way into the inward places of the soul, on which they mightily fasten, imparting grace, and making the soul of him who is rightly educated graceful, or of him who is ill-educated ungraceful; and also because he who has received this true education of the inner being will most shrewdly perceive omissions or faults in art and nature, and with a true taste, while he praises and rejoices over and receives into his soul the good, and becomes noble and good, he will justly blame and hate the bad, now in the days of his youth, even before he is able to know the reason why; and when reason comes he will recognise and salute the friend with whom his education has made him long familiar. yes, he said, i quite agree with you in thinking that our youth should be trained in music and on the grounds which you mention. just as in learning to read, i said, we were satisfied when we knew the letters of the alphabet, which are very few, in all their recurring sizes and combinations; not slighting them as unimportant whether they occupy a space large or small, but everywhere eager to make them out; and not thinking ourselves perfect in the art of reading until we recognise them wherever they are found: true-- or, as we recognise the reflection of letters in the water, or in a mirror, only when we know the letters themselves; the same art and study giving us the knowledge of both: exactly-- even so, as i maintain, neither we nor our guardians, whom we have to educate, can ever become musical until we and they know the essential forms, in all their combinations, and can recognise them and their images wherever they are found, not slighting them either in small things or great, but believing them all to be within the sphere of one art and study. most assuredly. and when a beautiful soul harmonises with a beautiful form, and the two are cast in one mould, that will be the fairest of sights to him who has an eye to see it? the fairest indeed. and the fairest is also the loveliest? that may be assumed. and the man who has the spirit of harmony will be most in love with the loveliest; but he will not love him who is of an inharmonious soul? that is true, he replied, if the deficiency be in his soul; but if there be any merely bodily defect in another he will be patient of it, and will love all the same. i perceive, i said, that you have or have had experiences of this sort, and i agree. but let me ask you another question: has excess of pleasure any affinity to temperance? how can that be? he replied; pleasure deprives a man of the use of his faculties quite as much as pain. or any affinity to virtue in general? none whatever. any affinity to wantonness and intemperance? yes, the greatest. and is there any greater or keener pleasure than that of sensual love? no, nor a madder. whereas true love is a love of beauty and order--temperate and harmonious? quite true, he said. then no intemperance or madness should be allowed to approach true love? certainly not. then mad or intemperate pleasure must never be allowed to come near the lover and his beloved; neither of them can have any part in it if their love is of the right sort? no, indeed, socrates, it must never come near them. then i suppose that in the city which we are founding you would make a law to the effect that a friend should use no other familiarity to his love than a father would use to his son, and then only for a noble purpose, and he must first have the other's consent; and this rule is to limit him in all his intercourse, and he is never to be seen going further, or, if he exceeds, he is to be deemed guilty of coarseness and bad taste. i quite agree, he said. thus much of music, which makes a fair ending; for what should be the end of music if not the love of beauty? i agree, he said. after music comes gymnastic, in which our youth are next to be trained. certainly. gymnastic as well as music should begin in early years; the training in it should be careful and should continue through life. now my belief is,--and this is a matter upon which i should like to have your opinion in confirmation of my own, but my own belief is,--not that the good body by any bodily excellence improves the soul, but, on the contrary, that the good soul, by her own excellence, improves the body as far as this may be possible. what do you say? yes, i agree. then, to the mind when adequately trained, we shall be right in handing over the more particular care of the body; and in order to avoid prolixity we will now only give the general outlines of the subject. very good. that they must abstain from intoxication has been already remarked by us; for of all persons a guardian should be the last to get drunk and not know where in the world he is. yes, he said; that a guardian should require another guardian to take care of him is ridiculous indeed. but next, what shall we say of their food; for the men are in training for the great contest of all--are they not? yes, he said. and will the habit of body of our ordinary athletes be suited to them? why not? i am afraid, i said, that a habit of body such as they have is but a sleepy sort of thing, and rather perilous to health. do you not observe that these athletes sleep away their lives, and are liable to most dangerous illnesses if they depart, in ever so slight a degree, from their customary regimen? yes, i do. then, i said, a finer sort of training will be required for our warrior athletes, who are to be like wakeful dogs, and to see and hear with the utmost keenness; amid the many changes of water and also of food, of summer heat and winter cold, which they will have to endure when on a campaign, they must not be liable to break down in health. that is my view. the really excellent gymnastic is twin sister of that simple music which we were just now describing. how so? why, i conceive that there is a gymnastic which, like our music, is simple and good; and especially the military gymnastic. what do you mean? my meaning may be learned from homer; he, you know, feeds his heroes at their feasts, when they are campaigning, on soldiers' fare; they have no fish, although they are on the shores of the hellespont, and they are not allowed boiled meats but only roast, which is the food most convenient for soldiers, requiring only that they should light a fire, and not involving the trouble of carrying about pots and pans. true. and i can hardly be mistaken in saying that sweet sauces are nowhere mentioned in homer. in proscribing them, however, he is not singular; all professional athletes are well aware that a man who is to be in good condition should take nothing of the kind. yes, he said; and knowing this, they are quite right in not taking them. then you would not approve of syracusan dinners, and the refinements of sicilian cookery? i think not. nor, if a man is to be in condition, would you allow him to have a corinthian girl as his fair friend? certainly not. neither would you approve of the delicacies, as they are thought, of athenian confectionery? certainly not. all such feeding and living may be rightly compared by us to melody and song composed in the panharmonic style, and in all the rhythms. exactly. there complexity engendered license, and here disease; whereas simplicity in music was the parent of temperance in the soul; and simplicity in gymnastic of health in the body. most true, he said. but when intemperance and disease multiply in a state, halls of justice and medicine are always being opened; and the arts of the doctor and the lawyer give themselves airs, finding how keen is the interest which not only the slaves but the freemen of a city take about them. of course. and yet what greater proof can there be of a bad and disgraceful state of education than this, that not only artisans and the meaner sort of people need the skill of first-rate physicians and judges, but also those who would profess to have had a liberal education? is it not disgraceful, and a great sign of want of good-breeding, that a man should have to go abroad for his law and physic because he has none of his own at home, and must therefore surrender himself into the hands of other men whom he makes lords and judges over him? of all things, he said, the most disgraceful. would you say 'most,' i replied, when you consider that there is a further stage of the evil in which a man is not only a life-long litigant, passing all his days in the courts, either as plaintiff or defendant, but is actually led by his bad taste to pride himself on his litigiousness; he imagines that he is a master in dishonesty; able to take every crooked turn, and wriggle into and out of every hole, bending like a withy and getting out of the way of justice: and all for what?--in order to gain small points not worth mentioning, he not knowing that so to order his life as to be able to do without a napping judge is a far higher and nobler sort of thing. is not that still more disgraceful? yes, he said, that is still more disgraceful. well, i said, and to require the help of medicine, not when a wound has to be cured, or on occasion of an epidemic, but just because, by indolence and a habit of life such as we have been describing, men fill themselves with waters and winds, as if their bodies were a marsh, compelling the ingenious sons of asclepius to find more names for diseases, such as flatulence and catarrh; is not this, too, a disgrace? yes, he said, they do certainly give very strange and newfangled names to diseases. yes, i said, and i do not believe that there were any such diseases in the days of asclepius; and this i infer from the circumstance that the hero eurypylus, after he has been wounded in homer, drinks a posset of pramnian wine well besprinkled with barley-meal and grated cheese, which are certainly inflammatory, and yet the sons of asclepius who were at the trojan war do not blame the damsel who gives him the drink, or rebuke patroclus, who is treating his case. well, he said, that was surely an extraordinary drink to be given to a person in his condition. not so extraordinary, i replied, if you bear in mind that in former days, as is commonly said, before the time of herodicus, the guild of asclepius did not practise our present system of medicine, which may be said to educate diseases. but herodicus, being a trainer, and himself of a sickly constitution, by a combination of training and doctoring found out a way of torturing first and chiefly himself, and secondly the rest of the world. how was that? he said. by the invention of lingering death; for he had a mortal disease which he perpetually tended, and as recovery was out of the question, he passed his entire life as a valetudinarian; he could do nothing but attend upon himself, and he was in constant torment whenever he departed in anything from his usual regimen, and so dying hard, by the help of science he struggled on to old age. a rare reward of his skill! yes, i said; a reward which a man might fairly expect who never understood that, if asclepius did not instruct his descendants in valetudinarian arts, the omission arose, not from ignorance or inexperience of such a branch of medicine, but because he knew that in all well-ordered states every individual has an occupation to which he must attend, and has therefore no leisure to spend in continually being ill. this we remark in the case of the artisan, but, ludicrously enough, do not apply the same rule to people of the richer sort. how do you mean? he said. i mean this: when a carpenter is ill he asks the physician for a rough and ready cure; an emetic or a purge or a cautery or the knife,--these are his remedies. and if some one prescribes for him a course of dietetics, and tells him that he must swathe and swaddle his head, and all that sort of thing, he replies at once that he has no time to be ill, and that he sees no good in a life which is spent in nursing his disease to the neglect of his customary employment; and therefore bidding good-bye to this sort of physician, he resumes his ordinary habits, and either gets well and lives and does his business, or, if his constitution falls, he dies and has no more trouble. yes, he said, and a man in his condition of life ought to use the art of medicine thus far only. has he not, i said, an occupation; and what profit would there be in his life if he were deprived of his occupation? quite true, he said. but with the rich man this is otherwise; of him we do not say that he has any specially appointed work which he must perform, if he would live. he is generally supposed to have nothing to do. then you never heard of the saying of phocylides, that as soon as a man has a livelihood he should practise virtue? nay, he said, i think that he had better begin somewhat sooner. let us not have a dispute with him about this, i said; but rather ask ourselves: is the practice of virtue obligatory on the rich man, or can he live without it? and if obligatory on him, then let us raise a further question, whether this dieting of disorders which is an impediment to the application of the mind t in carpentering and the mechanical arts, does not equally stand in the way of the sentiment of phocylides? of that, he replied, there can be no doubt; such excessive care of the body, when carried beyond the rules of gymnastic, is most inimical to the practice of virtue. yes, indeed, i replied, and equally incompatible with the management of a house, an army, or an office of state; and, what is most important of all, irreconcilable with any kind of study or thought or self-reflection--there is a constant suspicion that headache and giddiness are to be ascribed to philosophy, and hence all practising or making trial of virtue in the higher sense is absolutely stopped; for a man is always fancying that he is being made ill, and is in constant anxiety about the state of his body. yes, likely enough. and therefore our politic asclepius may be supposed to have exhibited the power of his art only to persons who, being generally of healthy constitution and habits of life, had a definite ailment; such as these he cured by purges and operations, and bade them live as usual, herein consulting the interests of the state; but bodies which disease had penetrated through and through he would not have attempted to cure by gradual processes of evacuation and infusion: he did not want to lengthen out good-for-nothing lives, or to have weak fathers begetting weaker sons;--if a man was not able to live in the ordinary way he had no business to cure him; for such a cure would have been of no use either to himself, or to the state. then, he said, you regard asclepius as a statesman. clearly; and his character is further illustrated by his sons. note that they were heroes in the days of old and practised the medicines of which i am speaking at the siege of troy: you will remember how, when pandarus wounded menelaus, they sucked the blood out of the wound, and sprinkled soothing remedies, but they never prescribed what the patient was afterwards to eat or drink in the case of menelaus, any more than in the case of eurypylus; the remedies, as they conceived, were enough to heal any man who before he was wounded was healthy and regular in habits; and even though he did happen to drink a posset of pramnian wine, he might get well all the same. but they would have nothing to do with unhealthy and intemperate subjects, whose lives were of no use either to themselves or others; the art of medicine was not designed for their good, and though they were as rich as midas, the sons of asclepius would have declined to attend them. they were very acute persons, those sons of asclepius. naturally so, i replied. nevertheless, the tragedians and pindar disobeying our behests, although they acknowledge that asclepius was the son of apollo, say also that he was bribed into healing a rich man who was at the point of death, and for this reason he was struck by lightning. but we, in accordance with the principle already affirmed by us, will not believe them when they tell us both;--if he was the son of a god, we maintain that he was not avaricious; or, if he was avaricious he was not the son of a god. all that, socrates, is excellent; but i should like to put a question to you: ought there not to be good physicians in a state, and are not the best those who have treated the greatest number of constitutions good and bad? and are not the best judges in like manner those who are acquainted with all sorts of moral natures? yes, i said, i too would have good judges and good physicians. but do you know whom i think good? will you tell me? i will, if i can. let me however note that in the same question you join two things which are not the same. how so? he asked. why, i said, you join physicians and judges. now the most skilful physicians are those who, from their youth upwards, have combined with the knowledge of their art the greatest experience of disease; they had better not be robust in health, and should have had all manner of diseases in their own persons. for the body, as i conceive, is not the instrument with which they cure the body; in that case we could not allow them ever to be or to have been sickly; but they cure the body with the mind, and the mind which has become and is sick can cure nothing. that is very true, he said. but with the judge it is otherwise; since he governs mind by mind; he ought not therefore to have been trained among vicious minds, and to have associated with them from youth upwards, and to have gone through the whole calendar of crime, only in order that he may quickly infer the crimes of others as he might their bodily diseases from his own self-consciousness; the honourable mind which is to form a healthy judgment should have had no experience or contamination of evil habits when young. and this is the reason why in youth good men often appear to be simple, and are easily practised upon by the dishonest, because they have no examples of what evil is in their own souls. yes, he said, they are far too apt to be deceived. therefore, i said, the judge should not be young; he should have learned to know evil, not from his own soul, but from late and long observation of the nature of evil in others: knowledge should be his guide, not personal experience. yes, he said, that is the ideal of a judge. yes, i replied, and he will be a good man (which is my answer to your question); for he is good who has a good soul. but the cunning and suspicious nature of which we spoke,--he who has committed many crimes, and fancies himself to be a master in wickedness, when he is amongst his fellows, is wonderful in the precautions which he takes, because he judges of them by himself: but when he gets into the company of men of virtue, who have the experience of age, he appears to be a fool again, owing to his unseasonable suspicions; he cannot recognise an honest man, because he has no pattern of honesty in himself; at the same time, as the bad are more numerous than the good, and he meets with them oftener, he thinks himself, and is by others thought to be, rather wise than foolish. most true, he said. then the good and wise judge whom we are seeking is not this man, but the other; for vice cannot know virtue too, but a virtuous nature, educated by time, will acquire a knowledge both of virtue and vice: the virtuous, and not the vicious, man has wisdom--in my opinion. and in mine also. this is the sort of medicine, and this is the sort of law, which you sanction in your state. they will minister to better natures, giving health both of soul and of body; but those who are diseased in their bodies they will leave to die, and the corrupt and incurable souls they will put an end to themselves. that is clearly the best thing both for the patients and for the state. and thus our youth, having been educated only in that simple music which, as we said, inspires temperance, will be reluctant to go to law. clearly. and the musician, who, keeping to the same track, is content to practise the simple gymnastic, will have nothing to do with medicine unless in some extreme case. that i quite believe. the very exercises and tolls which he undergoes are intended to stimulate the spirited element of his nature, and not to increase his strength; he will not, like common athletes, use exercise and regimen to develop his muscles. very right, he said. neither are the two arts of music and gymnastic really designed, as is often supposed, the one for the training of the soul, the other fir the training of the body. what then is the real object of them? i believe, i said, that the teachers of both have in view chiefly the improvement of the soul. how can that be? he asked. did you never observe, i said, the effect on the mind itself of exclusive devotion to gymnastic, or the opposite effect of an exclusive devotion to music? in what way shown? he said. the one producing a temper of hardness and ferocity, the other of softness and effeminacy, i replied. yes, he said, i am quite aware that the mere athlete becomes too much of a savage, and that the mere musician is melted and softened beyond what is good for him. yet surely, i said, this ferocity only comes from spirit, which, if rightly educated, would give courage, but, if too much intensified, is liable to become hard and brutal. that i quite think. on the other hand the philosopher will have the quality of gentleness. and this also, when too much indulged, will turn to softness, but, if educated rightly, will be gentle and moderate. true. and in our opinion the guardians ought to have both these qualities? assuredly. and both should be in harmony? beyond question. and the harmonious soul is both temperate and courageous? yes. and the inharmonious is cowardly and boorish? very true. and, when a man allows music to play upon him and to pour into his soul through the funnel of his ears those sweet and soft and melancholy airs of which we were just now speaking, and his whole life is passed in warbling and the delights of song; in the first stage of the process the passion or spirit which is in him is tempered like iron, and made useful, instead of brittle and useless. but, if he carries on the softening and soothing process, in the next stage he begins to melt and waste, until he has wasted away his spirit and cut out the sinews of his soul; and he becomes a feeble warrior. very true. if the element of spirit is naturally weak in him the change is speedily accomplished, but if he have a good deal, then the power of music weakening the spirit renders him excitable;--on the least provocation he flames up at once, and is speedily extinguished; instead of having spirit he grows irritable and passionate and is quite impracticable. exactly. and so in gymnastics, if a man takes violent exercise and is a great feeder, and the reverse of a great student of music and philosophy, at first the high condition of his body fills him with pride and spirit, and lie becomes twice the man that he was. certainly. and what happens? if he do nothing else, and holds no con-a verse with the muses, does not even that intelligence which there may be in him, having no taste of any sort of learning or enquiry or thought or culture, grow feeble and dull and blind, his mind never waking up or receiving nourishment, and his senses not being purged of their mists? true, he said. and he ends by becoming a hater of philosophy, uncivilized, never using the weapon of persuasion,--he is like a wild beast, all violence and fierceness, and knows no other way of dealing; and he lives in all ignorance and evil conditions, and has no sense of propriety and grace. that is quite true, he said. and as there are two principles of human nature, one the spirited and the other the philosophical, some god, as i should say, has given mankind two arts answering to them (and only indirectly to the soul and body), in order that these two principles (like the strings of an instrument) may be relaxed or drawn tighter until they are duly harmonised. that appears to be the intention. and he who mingles music with gymnastic in the fairest proportions, and best attempers them to the soul, may be rightly called the true musician and harmonist in a far higher sense than the tuner of the strings. you are quite right, socrates. and such a presiding genius will be always required in our state if the government is to last. yes, he will be absolutely necessary. such, then, are our principles of nurture and education: where would be the use of going into further details about the dances of our citizens, or about their hunting and coursing, their gymnastic and equestrian contests? for these all follow the general principle, and having found that, we shall have no difficulty in discovering them. i dare say that there will be no difficulty. very good, i said; then what is the next question? must we not ask who are to be rulers and who subjects? certainly. there can be no doubt that the elder must rule the younger. clearly. and that the best of these must rule. that is also clear. now, are not the best husbandmen those who are most devoted to husbandry? yes. and as we are to have the best of guardians for our city, must they not be those who have most the character of guardians? yes. and to this end they ought to be wise and efficient, and to have a special care of the state? true. and a man will be most likely to care about that which he loves? to be sure. and he will be most likely to love that which he regards as having the same interests with himself, and that of which the good or evil fortune is supposed by him at any time most to affect his own? very true, he replied. then there must be a selection. let us note among the guardians those who in their whole life show the greatest eagerness to do what is for the good of their country, and the greatest repugnance to do what is against her interests. those are the right men. and they will have to be watched at every age, in order that we may see whether they preserve their resolution, and never, under the influence either of force or enchantment, forget or cast off their sense of duty to the state. how cast off? he said. i will explain to you, i replied. a resolution may go out of a man's mind either with his will or against his will; with his will when he gets rid of a falsehood and learns better, against his will whenever he is deprived of a truth. i understand, he said, the willing loss of a resolution; the meaning of the unwilling i have yet to learn. why, i said, do you not see that men are unwillingly deprived of good, and willingly of evil? is not to have lost the truth an evil, and to possess the truth a good? and you would agree that to conceive things as they are is to possess the truth? yes, he replied; i agree with you in thinking that mankind are deprived of truth against their will. and is not this involuntary deprivation caused either by theft, or force, or enchantment? still, he replied, i do not understand you. i fear that i must have been talking darkly, like the tragedians. i only mean that some men are changed by persuasion and that others forget; argument steals away the hearts of one class, and time of the other; and this i call theft. now you understand me? yes. those again who are forced are those whom the violence of some pain or grief compels to change their opinion. i understand, he said, and you are quite right. and you would also acknowledge that the enchanted are those who change their minds either under the softer influence of pleasure, or the sterner influence of fear? yes, he said; everything that deceives may be said to enchant. therefore, as i was just now saying, we must enquire who are the best guardians of their own conviction that what they think the interest of the state is to be the rule of their lives. we must watch them from their youth upwards, and make them perform actions in which they are most likely to forget or to be deceived, and he who remembers and is not deceived is to be selected, and he who falls in the trial is to be rejected. that will be the way? yes. and there should also be toils and pains and conflicts prescribed for them, in which they will be made to give further proof of the same qualities. very right, he replied. and then, i said, we must try them with enchantments that is the third sort of test--and see what will be their behaviour: like those who take colts amid noise and tumult to see if they are of a timid nature, so must we take our youth amid terrors of some kind, and again pass them into pleasures, and prove them more thoroughly than gold is proved in the furnace, that we may discover whether they are armed against all enchantments, and of a noble bearing always, good guardians of themselves and of the music which they have learned, and retaining under all circumstances a rhythmical and harmonious nature, such as will be most serviceable to the individual and to the state. and he who at every age, as boy and youth and in mature life, has come out of the trial victorious and pure, shall be appointed a ruler and guardian of the state; he shall be honoured in life and death, and shall receive sepulture and other memorials of honour, the greatest that we have to give. but him who fails, we must reject. i am inclined to think that this is the sort of way in which our rulers and guardians should be chosen and appointed. i speak generally, and not with any pretension to exactness. and, speaking generally, i agree with you, he said. and perhaps the word 'guardian' in the fullest sense ought to be applied to this higher class only who preserve us against foreign enemies and maintain peace among our citizens at home, that the one may not have the will, or the others the power, to harm us. the young men whom we before called guardians may be more properly designated auxiliaries and supporters of the principles of the rulers. i agree with you, he said. how then may we devise one of those needful falsehoods of which we lately spoke--just one royal lie which may deceive the rulers, if that be possible, and at any rate the rest of the city? what sort of lie? he said. nothing new, i replied; only an old phoenician tale of what has often occurred before now in other places, (as the poets say, and have made the world believe,) though not in our time, and i do not know whether such an event could ever happen again, or could now even be made probable, if it did. how your words seem to hesitate on your lips! you will not wonder, i replied, at my hesitation when you have heard. speak, he said, and fear not. well then, i will speak, although i really know not how to look you in the face, or in what words to utter the audacious fiction, which i propose to communicate gradually, first to the rulers, then to the soldiers, and lastly to the people. they are to be told that their youth was a dream, and the education and training which they received from us, an appearance only; in reality during all that time they were being formed and fed in the womb of the earth, where they themselves and their arms and appurtenances were manufactured; when they were completed, the earth, their mother, sent them up; and so, their country being their mother and also their nurse, they are bound to advise for her good, and to defend her against attacks, and her citizens they are to regard as children of the earth and their own brothers. you had good reason, he said, to be ashamed of the lie which you were going to tell. true, i replied, but there is more coming; i have only told you half. citizens, we shall say to them in our tale, you are brothers, yet god has framed you differently. some of you have the power of command, and in the composition of these he has mingled gold, wherefore also they have the greatest honour; others he has made of silver, to be auxillaries; others again who are to be husbandmen and craftsmen he has composed of brass and iron; and the species will generally be preserved in the children. but as all are of the same original stock, a golden parent will sometimes have a silver son, or a silver parent a golden son. and god proclaims as a first principle to the rulers, and above all else, that there is nothing which should so anxiously guard, or of which they are to be such good guardians, as of the purity of the race. they should observe what elements mingle in their off spring; for if the son of a golden or silver parent has an admixture of brass and iron, then nature orders a transposition of ranks, and the eye of the ruler must not be pitiful towards the child because he has to descend in the scale and become a husbandman or artisan, just as there may be sons of artisans who having an admixture of gold or silver in them are raised to honour, and become guardians or auxiliaries. for an oracle says that when a man of brass or iron guards the state, it will be destroyed. such is the tale; is there any possibility of making our citizens believe in it? not in the present generation, he replied; there is no way of accomplishing this; but their sons may be made to believe in the tale, and their sons' sons, and posterity after them. i see the difficulty, i replied; yet the fostering of such a belief will make them care more for the city and for one another. enough, however, of the fiction, which may now fly abroad upon the wings of rumour, while we arm our earth-born heroes, and lead them forth under the command of their rulers. let them look round and select a spot whence they can best suppress insurrection, if any prove refractory within, and also defend themselves against enemies, who like wolves may come down on the fold from without; there let them encamp, and when they have encamped, let them sacrifice to the proper gods and prepare their dwellings. just so, he said. and their dwellings must be such as will shield them against the cold of winter and the heat of summer. i suppose that you mean houses, he replied. yes, i said; but they must be the houses of soldiers, and not of shop-keepers. what is the difference? he said. that i will endeavour to explain, i replied. to keep watchdogs, who, from want of discipline or hunger, or some evil habit, or evil habit or other, would turn upon the sheep and worry them, and behave not like dogs but wolves, would be a foul and monstrous thing in a shepherd? truly monstrous, he said. and therefore every care must be taken that our auxiliaries, being stronger than our citizens, may not grow to be too much for them and become savage tyrants instead of friends and allies? yes, great care should be taken. and would not a really good education furnish the best safeguard? but they are well-educated already, he replied. i cannot be so confident, my dear glaucon, i said; i am much certain that they ought to be, and that true education, whatever that may be, will have the greatest tendency to civilize and humanize them in their relations to one another, and to those who are under their protection. very true, he replied. and not only their education, but their habitations, and all that belongs to them, should be such as will neither impair their virtue as guardians, nor tempt them to prey upon the other citizens. any man of sense must acknowledge that. he must. then let us consider what will be their way of life, if they are to realize our idea of them. in the first place, none of them should have any property of his own beyond what is absolutely necessary; neither should they have a private house or store closed against any one who has a mind to enter; their provisions should be only such as are required by trained warriors, who are men of temperance and courage; they should agree to receive from the citizens a fixed rate of pay, enough to meet the expenses of the year and no more; and they will go and live together like soldiers in a camp. gold and silver we will tell them that they have from god; the diviner metal is within them, and they have therefore no need of the dross which is current among men, and ought not to pollute the divine by any such earthly admixture; for that commoner metal has been the source of many unholy deeds, but their own is undefiled. and they alone of all the citizens may not touch or handle silver or gold, or be under the same roof with them, or wear them, or drink from them. and this will be their salvation, and they will be the saviours of the state. but should they ever acquire homes or lands or moneys of their own, they will become housekeepers and husbandmen instead of guardians, enemies and tyrants instead of allies of the other citizens; hating and being hated, plotting and being plotted against, they will pass their whole life in much greater terror of internal than of external enemies, and the hour of ruin, both to themselves and to the rest of the state, will be at hand. for all which reasons may we not say that thus shall our state be ordered, and that these shall be the regulations appointed by us for guardians concerning their houses and all other matters? other yes, said glaucon. book iv adeimantus - socrates here adeimantus interposed a question: how would you answer, socrates, said he, if a person were to say that you are making these people miserable, and that they are the cause of their own unhappiness; the city in fact belongs to them, but they are none the better for it; whereas other men acquire lands, and build large and handsome houses, and have everything handsome about them, offering sacrifices to the gods on their own account, and practising hospitality; moreover, as you were saying just now, they have gold and silver, and all that is usual among the favourites of fortune; but our poor citizens are no better than mercenaries who are quartered in the city and are always mounting guard? yes, i said; and you may add that they are only fed, and not paid in addition to their food, like other men; and therefore they cannot, if they would, take a journey of pleasure; they have no money to spend on a mistress or any other luxurious fancy, which, as the world goes, is thought to be happiness; and many other accusations of the same nature might be added. but, said he, let us suppose all this to be included in the charge. you mean to ask, i said, what will be our answer? yes. if we proceed along the old path, my belief, i said, is that we shall find the answer. and our answer will be that, even as they are, our guardians may very likely be the happiest of men; but that our aim in founding the state was not the disproportionate happiness of any one class, but the greatest happiness of the whole; we thought that in a state which is ordered with a view to the good of the whole we should be most likely to find justice, and in the ill-ordered state injustice: and, having found them, we might then decide which of the two is the happier. at present, i take it, we are fashioning the happy state, not piecemeal, or with a view of making a few happy citizens, but as a whole; and by-and-by we will proceed to view the opposite kind of state. suppose that we were painting a statue, and some one came up to us and said, why do you not put the most beautiful colours on the most beautiful parts of the body--the eyes ought to be purple, but you have made them black--to him we might fairly answer, sir, you would not surely have us beautify the eyes to such a degree that they are no longer eyes; consider rather whether, by giving this and the other features their due proportion, we make the whole beautiful. and so i say to you, do not compel us to assign to the guardians a sort of happiness which will make them anything but guardians; for we too can clothe our husbandmen in royal apparel, and set crowns of gold on their heads, and bid them till the ground as much as they like, and no more. our potters also might be allowed to repose on couches, and feast by the fireside, passing round the winecup, while their wheel is conveniently at hand, and working at pottery only as much as they like; in this way we might make every class happy-and then, as you imagine, the whole state would be happy. but do not put this idea into our heads; for, if we listen to you, the husbandman will be no longer a husbandman, the potter will cease to be a potter, and no one will have the character of any distinct class in the state. now this is not of much consequence where the corruption of society, and pretension to be what you are not, is confined to cobblers; but when the guardians of the laws and of the government are only seemingly and not real guardians, then see how they turn the state upside down; and on the other hand they alone have the power of giving order and happiness to the state. we mean our guardians to be true saviours and not the destroyers of the state, whereas our opponent is thinking of peasants at a festival, who are enjoying a life of revelry, not of citizens who are doing their duty to the state. but, if so, we mean different things, and he is speaking of something which is not a state. and therefore we must consider whether in appointing our guardians we would look to their greatest happiness individually, or whether this principle of happiness does not rather reside in the state as a whole. but the latter be the truth, then the guardians and auxillaries, and all others equally with them, must be compelled or induced to do their own work in the best way. and thus the whole state will grow up in a noble order, and the several classes will receive the proportion of happiness which nature assigns to them. i think that you are quite right. i wonder whether you will agree with another remark which occurs to me. what may that be? there seem to be two causes of the deterioration of the arts. what are they? wealth, i said, and poverty. how do they act? the process is as follows: when a potter becomes rich, will he, think you, any longer take the same pains with his art? certainly not. he will grow more and more indolent and careless? very true. and the result will be that he becomes a worse potter? yes; he greatly deteriorates. but, on the other hand, if he has no money, and cannot provide himself tools or instruments, he will not work equally well himself, nor will he teach his sons or apprentices to work equally well. certainly not. then, under the influence either of poverty or of wealth, workmen and their work are equally liable to degenerate? that is evident. here, then, is a discovery of new evils, i said, against which the guardians will have to watch, or they will creep into the city unobserved. what evils? wealth, i said, and poverty; the one is the parent of luxury and indolence, and the other of meanness and viciousness, and both of discontent. that is very true, he replied; but still i should like to know, socrates, how our city will be able to go to war, especially against an enemy who is rich and powerful, if deprived of the sinews of war. there would certainly be a difficulty, i replied, in going to war with one such enemy; but there is no difficulty where there are two of them. how so? he asked. in the first place, i said, if we have to fight, our side will be trained warriors fighting against an army of rich men. that is true, he said. and do you not suppose, adeimantus, that a single boxer who was perfect in his art would easily be a match for two stout and well-to-do gentlemen who were not boxers? hardly, if they came upon him at once. what, not, i said, if he were able to run away and then turn and strike at the one who first came up? and supposing he were to do this several times under the heat of a scorching sun, might he not, being an expert, overturn more than one stout personage? certainly, he said, there would be nothing wonderful in that. and yet rich men probably have a greater superiority in the science and practice of boxing than they have in military qualities. likely enough. then we may assume that our athletes will be able to fight with two or three times their own number? i agree with you, for i think you right. and suppose that, before engaging, our citizens send an embassy to one of the two cities, telling them what is the truth: silver and gold we neither have nor are permitted to have, but you may; do you therefore come and help us in war, of and take the spoils of the other city: who, on hearing these words, would choose to fight against lean wiry dogs, rather than, with the dogs on their side, against fat and tender sheep? that is not likely; and yet there might be a danger to the poor state if the wealth of many states were to be gathered into one. but how simple of you to use the term state at all of any but our own! why so? you ought to speak of other states in the plural number; not one of them is a city, but many cities, as they say in the game. for indeed any city, however small, is in fact divided into two, one the city of the poor, the other of the rich; these are at war with one another; and in either there are many smaller divisions, and you would be altogether beside the mark if you treated them all as a single state. but if you deal with them as many, and give the wealth or power or persons of the one to the others, you will always have a great many friends and not many enemies. and your state, while the wise order which has now been prescribed continues to prevail in her, will be the greatest of states, i do not mean to say in reputation or appearance, but in deed and truth, though she number not more than a thousand defenders. a single state which is her equal you will hardly find, either among hellenes or barbarians, though many that appear to be as great and many times greater. that is most true, he said. and what, i said, will be the best limit for our rulers to fix when they are considering the size of the state and the amount of territory which they are to include, and beyond which they will not go? what limit would you propose? i would allow the state to increase so far as is consistent with unity; that, i think, is the proper limit. very good, he said. here then, i said, is another order which will have to be conveyed to our guardians: let our city be accounted neither large nor small, but one and self-sufficing. and surely, said he, this is not a very severe order which we impose upon them. and the other, said i, of which we were speaking before is lighter still, i mean the duty of degrading the offspring of the guardians when inferior, and of elevating into the rank of guardians the offspring of the lower classes, when naturally superior. the intention was, that, in the case of the citizens generally, each individual should be put to the use for which nature which nature intended him, one to one work, and then every man would do his own business, and be one and not many; and so the whole city would be one and not many. yes, he said; that is not so difficult. the regulations which we are prescribing, my good adeimantus, are not, as might be supposed, a number of great principles, but trifles all, if care be taken, as the saying is, of the one great thing,--a thing, however, which i would rather call, not great, but sufficient for our purpose. what may that be? he asked. education, i said, and nurture: if our citizens are well educated, and grow into sensible men, they will easily see their way through all these, as well as other matters which i omit; such, for example, as marriage, the possession of women and the procreation of children, which will all follow the general principle that friends have all things in common, as the proverb says. that will be the best way of settling them. also, i said, the state, if once started well, moves with accumulating force like a wheel. for good nurture and education implant good constitutions, and these good constitutions taking root in a good education improve more and more, and this improvement affects the breed in man as in other animals. very possibly, he said. then to sum up: this is the point to which, above all, the attention of our rulers should be directed,--that music and gymnastic be preserved in their original form, and no innovation made. they must do their utmost to maintain them intact. and when any one says that mankind most regard the newest song which the singers have, they will be afraid that he may be praising, not new songs, but a new kind of song; and this ought not to be praised, or conceived to be the meaning of the poet; for any musical innovation is full of danger to the whole state, and ought to be prohibited. so damon tells me, and i can quite believe him;-he says that when modes of music change, of the state always change with them. yes, said adeimantus; and you may add my suffrage to damon's and your own. then, i said, our guardians must lay the foundations of their fortress in music? yes, he said; the lawlessness of which you speak too easily steals in. yes, i replied, in the form of amusement; and at first sight it appears harmless. why, yes, he said, and there is no harm; were it not that little by little this spirit of licence, finding a home, imperceptibly penetrates into manners and customs; whence, issuing with greater force, it invades contracts between man and man, and from contracts goes on to laws and constitutions, in utter recklessness, ending at last, socrates, by an overthrow of all rights, private as well as public. is that true? i said. that is my belief, he replied. then, as i was saying, our youth should be trained from the first in a stricter system, for if amusements become lawless, and the youths themselves become lawless, they can never grow up into well-conducted and virtuous citizens. very true, he said. and when they have made a good beginning in play, and by the help of music have gained the habit of good order, then this habit of order, in a manner how unlike the lawless play of the others! will accompany them in all their actions and be a principle of growth to them, and if there be any fallen places a principle in the state will raise them up again. very true, he said. thus educated, they will invent for themselves any lesser rules which their predecessors have altogether neglected. what do you mean? i mean such things as these:--when the young are to be silent before their elders; how they are to show respect to them by standing and making them sit; what honour is due to parents; what garments or shoes are to be worn; the mode of dressing the hair; deportment and manners in general. you would agree with me? yes. but there is, i think, small wisdom in legislating about such matters,--i doubt if it is ever done; nor are any precise written enactments about them likely to be lasting. impossible. it would seem, adeimantus, that the direction in which education starts a man, will determine his future life. does not like always attract like? to be sure. until some one rare and grand result is reached which may be good, and may be the reverse of good? that is not to be denied. and for this reason, i said, i shall not attempt to legislate further about them. naturally enough, he replied. well, and about the business of the agora, dealings and the ordinary dealings between man and man, or again about agreements with the commencement with artisans; about insult and injury, of the commencement of actions, and the appointment of juries, what would you say? there may also arise questions about any impositions and extractions of market and harbour dues which may be required, and in general about the regulations of markets, police, harbours, and the like. but, oh heavens! shall we condescend to legislate on any of these particulars? i think, he said, that there is no need to impose laws about them on good men; what regulations are necessary they will find out soon enough for themselves. yes, i said, my friend, if god will only preserve to them the laws which we have given them. and without divine help, said adeimantus, they will go on for ever making and mending their laws and their lives in the hope of attaining perfection. you would compare them, i said, to those invalids who, having no self-restraint, will not leave off their habits of intemperance? exactly. yes, i said; and what a delightful life they lead! they are always doctoring and increasing and complicating their disorders, and always fancying that they will be cured by any nostrum which anybody advises them to try. such cases are very common, he said, with invalids of this sort. yes, i replied; and the charming thing is that they deem him their worst enemy who tells them the truth, which is simply that, unless they give up eating and drinking and wenching and idling, neither drug nor cautery nor spell nor amulet nor any other remedy will avail. charming! he replied. i see nothing charming in going into a passion with a man who tells you what is right. these gentlemen, i said, do not seem to be in your good graces. assuredly not. nor would you praise the behaviour of states which act like the men whom i was just now describing. for are there not ill-ordered states in which the citizens are forbidden under pain of death to alter the constitution; and yet he who most sweetly courts those who live under this regime and indulges them and fawns upon them and is skilful in anticipating and gratifying their humours is held to be a great and good statesman--do not these states resemble the persons whom i was describing? yes, he said; the states are as bad as the men; and i am very far from praising them. but do you not admire, i said, the coolness and dexterity of these ready ministers of political corruption? yes, he said, i do; but not of all of them, for there are some whom the applause of the multitude has deluded into the belief that they are really statesmen, and these are not much to be admired. what do you mean? i said; you should have more feeling for them. when a man cannot measure, and a great many others who cannot measure declare that he is four cubits high, can he help believing what they say? nay, he said, certainly not in that case. well, then, do not be angry with them; for are they not as good as a play, trying their hand at paltry reforms such as i was describing; they are always fancying that by legislation they will make an end of frauds in contracts, and the other rascalities which i was mentioning, not knowing that they are in reality cutting off the heads of a hydra? yes, he said; that is just what they are doing. i conceive, i said, that the true legislator will not trouble himself with this class of enactments whether concerning laws or the constitution either in an ill-ordered or in a well-ordered state; for in the former they are quite useless, and in the latter there will be no difficulty in devising them; and many of them will naturally flow out of our previous regulations. what, then, he said, is still remaining to us of the work of legislation? nothing to us, i replied; but to apollo, the god of delphi, there remains the ordering of the greatest and noblest and chiefest things of all. which are they? he said. the institution of temples and sacrifices, and the entire service of gods, demigods, and heroes; also the ordering of the repositories of the dead, and the rites which have to be observed by him who would propitiate the inhabitants of the world below. these are matters of which we are ignorant ourselves, and as founders of a city we should be unwise in trusting them to any interpreter but our ancestral deity. he is the god who sits in the center, on the navel of the earth, and he is the interpreter of religion to all mankind. you are right, and we will do as you propose. but where, amid all this, is justice? son of ariston, tell me where. now that our city has been made habitable, light a candle and search, and get your brother and polemarchus and the rest of our friends to help, and let us see where in it we can discover justice and where injustice, and in what they differ from one another, and which of them the man who would be happy should have for his portion, whether seen or unseen by gods and men. socrates - glaucon nonsense, said glaucon: did you not promise to search yourself, saying that for you not to help justice in her need would be an impiety? i do not deny that i said so, and as you remind me, i will be as good as my word; but you must join. we will, he replied. well, then, i hope to make the discovery in this way: i mean to begin with the assumption that our state, if rightly ordered, is perfect. that is most certain. and being perfect, is therefore wise and valiant and temperate and just. that is likewise clear. and whichever of these qualities we find in the state, the one which is not found will be the residue? very good. if there were four things, and we were searching for one of them, wherever it might be, the one sought for might be known to us from the first, and there would be no further trouble; or we might know the other three first, and then the fourth would clearly be the one left. very true, he said. and is not a similar method to be pursued about the virtues, which are also four in number? clearly. first among the virtues found in the state, wisdom comes into view, and in this i detect a certain peculiarity. what is that? the state which we have been describing is said to be wise as being good in counsel? very true. and good counsel is clearly a kind of knowledge, for not by ignorance, but by knowledge, do men counsel well? clearly. and the kinds of knowledge in a state are many and diverse? of course. there is the knowledge of the carpenter; but is that the sort of knowledge which gives a city the title of wise and good in counsel? certainly not; that would only give a city the reputation of skill in carpentering. then a city is not to be called wise because possessing a knowledge which counsels for the best about wooden implements? certainly not. nor by reason of a knowledge which advises about brazen pots, i said, nor as possessing any other similar knowledge? not by reason of any of them, he said. nor yet by reason of a knowledge which cultivates the earth; that would give the city the name of agricultural? yes. well, i said, and is there any knowledge in our recently founded state among any of the citizens which advises, not about any particular thing in the state, but about the whole, and considers how a state can best deal with itself and with other states? there certainly is. and what is knowledge, and among whom is it found? i asked. it is the knowledge of the guardians, he replied, and found among those whom we were just now describing as perfect guardians. and what is the name which the city derives from the possession of this sort of knowledge? the name of good in counsel and truly wise. and will there be in our city more of these true guardians or more smiths? the smiths, he replied, will be far more numerous. will not the guardians be the smallest of all the classes who receive a name from the profession of some kind of knowledge? much the smallest. and so by reason of the smallest part or class, and of the knowledge which resides in this presiding and ruling part of itself, the whole state, being thus constituted according to nature, will be wise; and this, which has the only knowledge worthy to be called wisdom, has been ordained by nature to be of all classes the least. most true. thus, then, i said, the nature and place in the state of one of the four virtues has somehow or other been discovered. and, in my humble opinion, very satisfactorily discovered, he replied. again, i said, there is no difficulty in seeing the nature of courage; and in what part that quality resides which gives the name of courageous to the state. how do you mean? why, i said, every one who calls any state courageous or cowardly, will be thinking of the part which fights and goes out to war on the state's behalf. no one, he replied, would ever think of any other. certainly not. the rest of the citizens may be courageous or may be cowardly but their courage or cowardice will not, as i conceive, have the effect of making the city either the one or the other. the city will be courageous in virtue of a portion of herself which preserves under all circumstances that opinion about the nature of things to be feared and not to be feared in which our legislator educated them; and this is what you term courage. i should like to hear what you are saying once more, for i do not think that i perfectly understand you. i mean that courage is a kind of salvation. salvation of what? of the opinion respecting things to be feared, what they are and of what nature, which the law implants through education; and i mean by the words 'under all circumstances' to intimate that in pleasure or in pain, or under the influence of desire or fear, a man preserves, and does not lose this opinion. shall i give you an illustration? if you please. you know, i said, that dyers, when they want to dye wool for making the true sea-purple, begin by selecting their white colour first; this they prepare and dress with much care and pains, in order that the white ground may take the purple hue in full perfection. the dyeing then proceeds; and whatever is dyed in this manner becomes a fast colour, and no washing either with lyes or without them can take away the bloom. but, when the ground has not been duly prepared, you will have noticed how poor is the look either of purple or of any other colour. yes, he said; i know that they have a washed-out and ridiculous appearance. then now, i said, you will understand what our object was in selecting our soldiers, and educating them in music and gymnastic; we were contriving influences which would prepare them to take the dye of the laws in perfection, and the colour of their opinion about dangers and of every other opinion was to be indelibly fixed by their nurture and training, not to be washed away by such potent lyes as pleasure--mightier agent far in washing the soul than any soda or lye; or by sorrow, fear, and desire, the mightiest of all other solvents. and this sort of universal saving power of true opinion in conformity with law about real and false dangers i call and maintain to be courage, unless you disagree. but i agree, he replied; for i suppose that you mean to exclude mere uninstructed courage, such as that of a wild beast or of a slave--this, in your opinion, is not the courage which the law ordains, and ought to have another name. most certainly. then i may infer courage to be such as you describe? why, yes, said i, you may, and if you add the words 'of a citizen,' you will not be far wrong;--hereafter, if you like, we will carry the examination further, but at present we are we w seeking not for courage but justice; and for the purpose of our enquiry we have said enough. you are right, he replied. two virtues remain to be discovered in the state-first temperance, and then justice which is the end of our search. very true. now, can we find justice without troubling ourselves about temperance? i do not know how that can be accomplished, he said, nor do i desire that justice should be brought to light and temperance lost sight of; and therefore i wish that you would do me the favour of considering temperance first. certainly, i replied, i should not be justified in refusing your request. then consider, he said. yes, i replied; i will; and as far as i can at present see, the virtue of temperance has more of the nature of harmony and symphony than the preceding. how so? he asked. temperance, i replied, is the ordering or controlling of certain pleasures and desires; this is curiously enough implied in the saying of 'a man being his own master' and other traces of the same notion may be found in language. no doubt, he said. there is something ridiculous in the expression 'master of himself'; for the master is also the servant and the servant the master; and in all these modes of speaking the same person is denoted. certainly. the meaning is, i believe, that in the human soul there is a better and also a worse principle; and when the better has the worse under control, then a man is said to be master of himself; and this is a term of praise: but when, owing to evil education or association, the better principle, which is also the smaller, is overwhelmed by the greater mass of the worse--in this case he is blamed and is called the slave of self and unprincipled. yes, there is reason in that. and now, i said, look at our newly created state, and there you will find one of these two conditions realised; for the state, as you will acknowledge, may be justly called master of itself, if the words 'temperance' and 'self-mastery' truly express the rule of the better part over the worse. yes, he said, i see that what you say is true. let me further note that the manifold and complex pleasures and desires and pains are generally found in children and women and servants, and in the freemen so called who are of the lowest and more numerous class. certainly, he said. whereas the simple and moderate desires which follow reason, and are under the guidance of mind and true opinion, are to be found only in a few, and those the best born and best educated. very true. these two, as you may perceive, have a place in our state; and the meaner desires of the are held down by the virtuous desires and wisdom of the few. that i perceive, he said. then if there be any city which may be described as master of its own pleasures and desires, and master of itself, ours may claim such a designation? certainly, he replied. it may also be called temperate, and for the same reasons? yes. and if there be any state in which rulers and subjects will be agreed as to the question who are to rule, that again will be our state? undoubtedly. and the citizens being thus agreed among themselves, in which class will temperance be found--in the rulers or in the subjects? in both, as i should imagine, he replied. do you observe that we were not far wrong in our guess that temperance was a sort of harmony? why so? why, because temperance is unlike courage and wisdom, each of which resides in a part only, the one making the state wise and the other valiant; not so temperance, which extends to the whole, and runs through all the notes of the scale, and produces a harmony of the weaker and the stronger and the middle class, whether you suppose them to be stronger or weaker in wisdom or power or numbers or wealth, or anything else. most truly then may we deem temperance to be the agreement of the naturally superior and inferior, as to the right to rule of either, both in states and individuals. i entirely agree with you. and so, i said, we may consider three out of the four virtues to have been discovered in our state. the last of those qualities which make a state virtuous must be justice, if we only knew what that was. the inference is obvious. the time then has arrived, glaucon, when, like huntsmen, we should surround the cover, and look sharp that justice does not steal away, and pass out of sight and escape us; for beyond a doubt she is somewhere in this country: watch therefore and strive to catch a sight of her, and if you see her first, let me know. would that i could! but you should regard me rather as a follower who has just eyes enough to, see what you show him--that is about as much as i am good for. offer up a prayer with me and follow. i will, but you must show me the way. here is no path, i said, and the wood is dark and perplexing; still we must push on. let us push on. here i saw something: halloo! i said, i begin to perceive a track, and i believe that the quarry will not escape. good news, he said. truly, i said, we are stupid fellows. why so? why, my good sir, at the beginning of our enquiry, ages ago, there was justice tumbling out at our feet, and we never saw her; nothing could be more ridiculous. like people who go about looking for what they have in their hands--that was the way with us--we looked not at what we were seeking, but at what was far off in the distance; and therefore, i suppose, we missed her. what do you mean? i mean to say that in reality for a long time past we have been talking of justice, and have failed to recognise her. i grow impatient at the length of your exordium. well then, tell me, i said, whether i am right or not: you remember the original principle which we were always laying down at the foundation of the state, that one man should practise one thing only, the thing to which his nature was best adapted;--now justice is this principle or a part of it. yes, we often said that one man should do one thing only. further, we affirmed that justice was doing one's own business, and not being a busybody; we said so again and again, and many others have said the same to us. yes, we said so. then to do one's own business in a certain way may be assumed to be justice. can you tell me whence i derive this inference? i cannot, but i should like to be told. because i think that this is the only virtue which remains in the state when the other virtues of temperance and courage and wisdom are abstracted; and, that this is the ultimate cause and condition of the existence of all of them, and while remaining in them is also their preservative; and we were saying that if the three were discovered by us, justice would be the fourth or remaining one. that follows of necessity. if we are asked to determine which of these four qualities by its presence contributes most to the excellence of the state, whether the agreement of rulers and subjects, or the preservation in the soldiers of the opinion which the law ordains about the true nature of dangers, or wisdom and watchfulness in the rulers, or whether this other which i am mentioning, and which is found in children and women, slave and freeman, artisan, ruler, subject,--the quality, i mean, of every one doing his own work, and not being a busybody, would claim the palm--the question is not so easily answered. certainly, he replied, there would be a difficulty in saying which. then the power of each individual in the state to do his own work appears to compete with the other political virtues, wisdom, temperance, courage. yes, he said. and the virtue which enters into this competition is justice? exactly. let us look at the question from another point of view: are not the rulers in a state those to whom you would entrust the office of determining suits at law? certainly. and are suits decided on any other ground but that a man may neither take what is another's, nor be deprived of what is his own? yes; that is their principle. which is a just principle? yes. then on this view also justice will be admitted to be the having and doing what is a man's own, and belongs to him? very true. think, now, and say whether you agree with me or not. suppose a carpenter to be doing the business of a cobbler, or a cobbler of a carpenter; and suppose them to exchange their implements or their duties, or the same person to be doing the work of both, or whatever be the change; do you think that any great harm would result to the state? not much. but when the cobbler or any other man whom nature designed to be a trader, having his heart lifted up by wealth or strength or the number of his followers, or any like advantage, attempts to force his way into the class of warriors, or a warrior into that of legislators and guardians, for which he is unfitted, and either to take the implements or the duties of the other; or when one man is trader, legislator, and warrior all in one, then i think you will agree with me in saying that this interchange and this meddling of one with another is the ruin of the state. most true. seeing then, i said, that there are three distinct classes, any meddling of one with another, or the change of one into another, is the greatest harm to the state, and may be most justly termed evil-doing? precisely. and the greatest degree of evil-doing to one's own city would be termed by you injustice? certainly. this then is injustice; and on the other hand when the trader, the auxiliary, and the guardian each do their own business, that is justice, and will make the city just. i agree with you. we will not, i said, be over-positive as yet; but if, on trial, this conception of justice be verified in the individual as well as in the state, there will be no longer any room for doubt; if it be not verified, we must have a fresh enquiry. first let us complete the old investigation, which we began, as you remember, under the impression that, if we could previously examine justice on the larger scale, there would be less difficulty in discerning her in the individual. that larger example appeared to be the state, and accordingly we constructed as good a one as we could, knowing well that in the good state justice would be found. let the discovery which we made be now applied to the individual--if they agree, we shall be satisfied; or, if there be a difference in the individual, we will come back to the state and have another trial of the theory. the friction of the two when rubbed together may possibly strike a light in which justice will shine forth, and the vision which is then revealed we will fix in our souls. that will be in regular course; let us do as you say. i proceeded to ask: when two things, a greater and less, are called by the same name, are they like or unlike in so far as they are called the same? like, he replied. the just man then, if we regard the idea of justice only, will be like the just state? he will. and a state was thought by us to be just when the three classes in the state severally did their own business; and also thought to be temperate and valiant and wise by reason of certain other affections and qualities of these same classes? true, he said. and so of the individual; we may assume that he has the same three principles in his own soul which are found in the state; and he may be rightly described in the same terms, because he is affected in the same manner? certainly, he said. once more then, o my friend, we have alighted upon an easy question--whether the soul has these three principles or not? an easy question! nay, rather, socrates, the proverb holds that hard is the good. very true, i said; and i do not think that the method which we are employing is at all adequate to the accurate solution of this question; the true method is another and a longer one. still we may arrive at a solution not below the level of the previous enquiry. may we not be satisfied with that? he said;--under the circumstances, i am quite content. i too, i replied, shall be extremely well satisfied. then faint not in pursuing the speculation, he said. must we not acknowledge, i said, that in each of us there are the same principles and habits which there are in the state; and that from the individual they pass into the state?--how else can they come there? take the quality of passion or spirit;--it would be ridiculous to imagine that this quality, when found in states, is not derived from the individuals who are supposed to possess it, e.g. the thracians, scythians, and in general the northern nations; and the same may be said of the love of knowledge, which is the special characteristic of our part of the world, or of the love of money, which may, with equal truth, be attributed to the phoenicians and egyptians. exactly so, he said. there is no difficulty in understanding this. none whatever. but the question is not quite so easy when we proceed to ask whether these principles are three or one; whether, that is to say, we learn with one part of our nature, are angry with another, and with a third part desire the satisfaction of our natural appetites; or whether the whole soul comes into play in each sort of action--to determine that is the difficulty. yes, he said; there lies the difficulty. then let us now try and determine whether they are the same or different. how can we? he asked. i replied as follows: the same thing clearly cannot act or be acted upon in the same part or in relation to the same thing at the same time, in contrary ways; and therefore whenever this contradiction occurs in things apparently the same, we know that they are really not the same, but different. good. for example, i said, can the same thing be at rest and in motion at the same time in the same part? impossible. still, i said, let us have a more precise statement of terms, lest we should hereafter fall out by the way. imagine the case of a man who is standing and also moving his hands and his head, and suppose a person to say that one and the same person is in motion and at rest at the same moment-to such a mode of speech we should object, and should rather say that one part of him is in motion while another is at rest. very true. and suppose the objector to refine still further, and to draw the nice distinction that not only parts of tops, but whole tops, when they spin round with their pegs fixed on the spot, are at rest and in motion at the same time (and he may say the same of anything which revolves in the same spot), his objection would not be admitted by us, because in such cases things are not at rest and in motion in the same parts of themselves; we should rather say that they have both an axis and a circumference, and that the axis stands still, for there is no deviation from the perpendicular; and that the circumference goes round. but if, while revolving, the axis inclines either to the right or left, forwards or backwards, then in no point of view can they be at rest. that is the correct mode of describing them, he replied. then none of these objections will confuse us, or incline us to believe that the same thing at the same time, in the same part or in relation to the same thing, can act or be acted upon in contrary ways. certainly not, according to my way of thinking. yet, i said, that we may not be compelled to examine all such objections, and prove at length that they are untrue, let us assume their absurdity, and go forward on the understanding that hereafter, if this assumption turn out to be untrue, all the consequences which follow shall be withdrawn. yes, he said, that will be the best way. well, i said, would you not allow that assent and dissent, desire and aversion, attraction and repulsion, are all of them opposites, whether they are regarded as active or passive (for that makes no difference in the fact of their opposition)? yes, he said, they are opposites. well, i said, and hunger and thirst, and the desires in general, and again willing and wishing,--all these you would refer to the classes already mentioned. you would say--would you not?--that the soul of him who desires is seeking after the object of his desires; or that he is drawing to himself the thing which he wishes to possess: or again, when a person wants anything to be given him, his mind, longing for the realisation of his desires, intimates his wish to have it by a nod of assent, as if he had been asked a question? very true. and what would you say of unwillingness and dislike and the absence of desire; should not these be referred to the opposite class of repulsion and rejection? certainly. admitting this to be true of desire generally, let us suppose a particular class of desires, and out of these we will select hunger and thirst, as they are termed, which are the most obvious of them? let us take that class, he said. the object of one is food, and of the other drink? yes. and here comes the point: is not thirst the desire which the soul has of drink, and of drink only; not of drink qualified by anything else; for example, warm or cold, or much or little, or, in a word, drink of any particular sort: but if the thirst be accompanied by heat, then the desire is of cold drink; or, if accompanied by cold, then of warm drink; or, if the thirst be excessive, then the drink which is desired will be excessive; or, if not great, the quantity of drink will also be small: but thirst pure and simple will desire drink pure and simple, which is the natural satisfaction of thirst, as food is of hunger? yes, he said; the simple desire is, as you say, in every case of the simple object, and the qualified desire of the qualified object. but here a confusion may arise; and i should wish to guard against an opponent starting up and saying that no man desires drink only, but good drink, or food only, but good food; for good is the universal object of desire, and thirst being a desire, will necessarily be thirst after good drink; and the same is true of every other desire. yes, he replied, the opponent might have something to say. nevertheless i should still maintain, that of relatives some have a quality attached to either term of the relation; others are simple and have their correlatives simple. i do not know what you mean. well, you know of course that the greater is relative to the less? certainly. and the much greater to the much less? yes. and the sometime greater to the sometime less, and the greater that is to be to the less that is to be? certainly, he said. and so of more and less, and of other correlative terms, such as the double and the half, or again, the heavier and the lighter, the swifter and the slower; and of hot and cold, and of any other relatives;--is not this true of all of them? yes. and does not the same principle hold in the sciences? the object of science is knowledge (assuming that to be the true definition), but the object of a particular science is a particular kind of knowledge; i mean, for example, that the science of house-building is a kind of knowledge which is defined and distinguished from other kinds and is therefore termed architecture. certainly. because it has a particular quality which no other has? yes. and it has this particular quality because it has an object of a particular kind; and this is true of the other arts and sciences? yes. now, then, if i have made myself clear, you will understand my original meaning in what i said about relatives. my meaning was, that if one term of a relation is taken alone, the other is taken alone; if one term is qualified, the other is also qualified. i do not mean to say that relatives may not be disparate, or that the science of health is healthy, or of disease necessarily diseased, or that the sciences of good and evil are therefore good and evil; but only that, when the term science is no longer used absolutely, but has a qualified object which in this case is the nature of health and disease, it becomes defined, and is hence called not merely science, but the science of medicine. i quite understand, and i think as you do. would you not say that thirst is one of these essentially relative terms, having clearly a relation-- yes, thirst is relative to drink. and a certain kind of thirst is relative to a certain kind of drink; but thirst taken alone is neither of much nor little, nor of good nor bad, nor of any particular kind of drink, but of drink only? certainly. then the soul of the thirsty one, in so far as he is thirsty, desires only drink; for this he yearns and tries to obtain it? that is plain. and if you suppose something which pulls a thirsty soul away from drink, that must be different from the thirsty principle which draws him like a beast to drink; for, as we were saying, the same thing cannot at the same time with the same part of itself act in contrary ways about the same. impossible. no more than you can say that the hands of the archer push and pull the bow at the same time, but what you say is that one hand pushes and the other pulls. exactly so, he replied. and might a man be thirsty, and yet unwilling to drink? yes, he said, it constantly happens. and in such a case what is one to say? would you not say that there was something in the soul bidding a man to drink, and something else forbidding him, which is other and stronger than the principle which bids him? i should say so. and the forbidding principle is derived from reason, and that which bids and attracts proceeds from passion and disease? clearly. then we may fairly assume that they are two, and that they differ from one another; the one with which man reasons, we may call the rational principle of the soul, the other, with which he loves and hungers and thirsts and feels the flutterings of any other desire, may be termed the irrational or appetitive, the ally of sundry pleasures and satisfactions? yes, he said, we may fairly assume them to be different. then let us finally determine that there are two principles existing in the soul. and what of passion, or spirit? is it a third, or akin to one of the preceding? i should be inclined to say--akin to desire. well, i said, there is a story which i remember to have heard, and in which i put faith. the story is, that leontius, the son of aglaion, coming up one day from the piraeus, under the north wall on the outside, observed some dead bodies lying on the ground at the place of execution. he felt a desire to see them, and also a dread and abhorrence of them; for a time he struggled and covered his eyes, but at length the desire got the better of him; and forcing them open, he ran up to the dead bodies, saying, look, ye wretches, take your fill of the fair sight. i have heard the story myself, he said. the moral of the tale is, that anger at times goes to war with desire, as though they were two distinct things. yes; that is the meaning, he said. and are there not many other cases in which we observe that when a man's desires violently prevail over his reason, he reviles himself, and is angry at the violence within him, and that in this struggle, which is like the struggle of factions in a state, his spirit is on the side of his reason;--but for the passionate or spirited element to take part with the desires when reason that she should not be opposed, is a sort of thing which thing which i believe that you never observed occurring in yourself, nor, as i should imagine, in any one else? certainly not. suppose that a man thinks he has done a wrong to another, the nobler he is the less able is he to feel indignant at any suffering, such as hunger, or cold, or any other pain which the injured person may inflict upon him--these he deems to be just, and, as i say, his anger refuses to be excited by them. true, he said. but when he thinks that he is the sufferer of the wrong, then he boils and chafes, and is on the side of what he believes to be justice; and because he suffers hunger or cold or other pain he is only the more determined to persevere and conquer. his noble spirit will not be quelled until he either slays or is slain; or until he hears the voice of the shepherd, that is, reason, bidding his dog bark no more. the illustration is perfect, he replied; and in our state, as we were saying, the auxiliaries were to be dogs, and to hear the voice of the rulers, who are their shepherds. i perceive, i said, that you quite understand me; there is, however, a further point which i wish you to consider. what point? you remember that passion or spirit appeared at first sight to be a kind of desire, but now we should say quite the contrary; for in the conflict of the soul spirit is arrayed on the side of the rational principle. most assuredly. but a further question arises: is passion different from reason also, or only a kind of reason; in which latter case, instead of three principles in the soul, there will only be two, the rational and the concupiscent; or rather, as the state was composed of three classes, traders, auxiliaries, counsellors, so may there not be in the individual soul a third element which is passion or spirit, and when not corrupted by bad education is the natural auxiliary of reason yes, he said, there must be a third. yes, i replied, if passion, which has already been shown to be different from desire, turn out also to be different from reason. but that is easily proved:--we may observe even in young children that they are full of spirit almost as soon as they are born, whereas some of them never seem to attain to the use of reason, and most of them late enough. excellent, i said, and you may see passion equally in brute animals, which is a further proof of the truth of what you are saying. and we may once more appeal to the words of homer, which have been already quoted by us, he smote his breast, and thus rebuked his soul, for in this verse homer has clearly supposed the power which reasons about the better and worse to be different from the unreasoning anger which is rebuked by it. very true, he said. and so, after much tossing, we have reached land, and are fairly agreed that the same principles which exist in the state exist also in the individual, and that they are three in number. exactly. must we not then infer that the individual is wise in the same way, and in virtue of the same quality which makes the state wise? certainly. also that the same quality which constitutes courage in the state constitutes courage in the individual, and that both the state and the individual bear the same relation to all the other virtues? assuredly. and the individual will be acknowledged by us to be just in the same way in which the state is just? that follows, of course. we cannot but remember that the justice of the state consisted in each of the three classes doing the work of its own class? we are not very likely to have forgotten, he said. we must recollect that the individual in whom the several qualities of his nature do their own work will be just, and will do his own work? yes, he said, we must remember that too. and ought not the rational principle, which is wise, and has the care of the whole soul, to rule, and the passionate or spirited principle to be the subject and ally? certainly. and, as we were saying, the united influence of music and gymnastic will bring them into accord, nerving and sustaining the reason with noble words and lessons, and moderating and soothing and civilizing the wildness of passion by harmony and rhythm? quite true, he said. and these two, thus nurtured and educated, and having learned truly to know their own functions, will rule over the concupiscent, which in each of us is the largest part of the soul and by nature most insatiable of gain; over this they will keep guard, lest, waxing great and strong with the fulness of bodily pleasures, as they are termed, the concupiscent soul, no longer confined to her own sphere, should attempt to enslave and rule those who are not her natural-born subjects, and overturn the whole life of man? very true, he said. both together will they not be the best defenders of the whole soul and the whole body against attacks from without; the one counselling, and the other fighting under his leader, and courageously executing his commands and counsels? true. and he is to be deemed courageous whose spirit retains in pleasure and in pain the commands of reason about what he ought or ought not to fear? right, he replied. and him we call wise who has in him that little part which rules, and which proclaims these commands; that part too being supposed to have a knowledge of what is for the interest of each of the three parts and of the whole? assuredly. and would you not say that he is temperate who has these same elements in friendly harmony, in whom the one ruling principle of reason, and the two subject ones of spirit and desire are equally agreed that reason ought to rule, and do not rebel? certainly, he said, that is the true account of temperance whether in the state or individual. and surely, i said, we have explained again and again how and by virtue of what quality a man will be just. that is very certain. and is justice dimmer in the individual, and is her form different, or is she the same which we found her to be in the state? there is no difference in my opinion, he said. because, if any doubt is still lingering in our minds, a few commonplace instances will satisfy us of the truth of what i am saying. what sort of instances do you mean? if the case is put to us, must we not admit that the just state, or the man who is trained in the principles of such a state, will be less likely than the unjust to make away with a deposit of gold or silver? would any one deny this? no one, he replied. will the just man or citizen ever be guilty of sacrilege or theft, or treachery either to his friends or to his country? never. neither will he ever break faith where there have been oaths or agreements? impossible. no one will be less likely to commit adultery, or to dishonour his father and mother, or to fall in his religious duties? no one. and the reason is that each part of him is doing its own business, whether in ruling or being ruled? exactly so. are you satisfied then that the quality which makes such men and such states is justice, or do you hope to discover some other? not i, indeed. then our dream has been realised; and the suspicion which we entertained at the beginning of our work of construction, that some divine power must have conducted us to a primary form of justice, has now been verified? yes, certainly. and the division of labour which required the carpenter and the shoemaker and the rest of the citizens to be doing each his own business, and not another's, was a shadow of justice, and for that reason it was of use? clearly. but in reality justice was such as we were describing, being concerned however, not with the outward man, but with the inward, which is the true self and concernment of man: for the just man does not permit the several elements within him to interfere with one another, or any of them to do the work of others,--he sets in order his own inner life, and is his own master and his own law, and at peace with himself; and when he has bound together the three principles within him, which may be compared to the higher, lower, and middle notes of the scale, and the intermediate intervals--when he has bound all these together, and is no longer many, but has become one entirely temperate and perfectly adjusted nature, then he proceeds to act, if he has to act, whether in a matter of property, or in the treatment of the body, or in some affair of politics or private business; always thinking and calling that which preserves and co-operates with this harmonious condition, just and good action, and the knowledge which presides over it, wisdom, and that which at any time impairs this condition, he will call unjust action, and the opinion which presides over it ignorance. you have said the exact truth, socrates. very good; and if we were to affirm that we had discovered the just man and the just state, and the nature of justice in each of them, we should not be telling a falsehood? most certainly not. may we say so, then? let us say so. and now, i said, injustice has to be considered. clearly. must not injustice be a strife which arises among the three principles--a meddlesomeness, and interference, and rising up of a part of the soul against the whole, an assertion of unlawful authority, which is made by a rebellious subject against a true prince, of whom he is the natural vassal,--what is all this confusion and delusion but injustice, and intemperance and cowardice and ignorance, and every form of vice? exactly so. and if the nature of justice and injustice be known, then the meaning of acting unjustly and being unjust, or, again, of acting justly, will also be perfectly clear? what do you mean? he said. why, i said, they are like disease and health; being in the soul just what disease and health are in the body. how so? he said. why, i said, that which is healthy causes health, and that which is unhealthy causes disease. yes. and just actions cause justice, and unjust actions cause injustice? that is certain. and the creation of health is the institution of a natural order and government of one by another in the parts of the body; and the creation of disease is the production of a state of things at variance with this natural order? true. and is not the creation of justice the institution of a natural order and government of one by another in the parts of the soul, and the creation of injustice the production of a state of things at variance with the natural order? exactly so, he said. then virtue is the health and beauty and well-being of the soul, and vice the disease and weakness and deformity of the same? true. and do not good practices lead to virtue, and evil practices to vice? assuredly. still our old question of the comparative advantage of justice and injustice has not been answered: which is the more profitable, to be just and act justly and practise virtue, whether seen or unseen of gods and men, or to be unjust and act unjustly, if only unpunished and unreformed? in my judgment, socrates, the question has now become ridiculous. we know that, when the bodily constitution is gone, life is no longer endurable, though pampered with all kinds of meats and drinks, and having all wealth and all power; and shall we be told that when the very essence of the vital principle is undermined and corrupted, life is still worth having to a man, if only he be allowed to do whatever he likes with the single exception that he is not to acquire justice and virtue, or to escape from injustice and vice; assuming them both to be such as we have described? yes, i said, the question is, as you say, ridiculous. still, as we are near the spot at which we may see the truth in the clearest manner with our own eyes, let us not faint by the way. certainly not, he replied. come up hither, i said, and behold the various forms of vice, those of them, i mean, which are worth looking at. i am following you, he replied: proceed. i said, the argument seems to have reached a height from which, as from some tower of speculation, a man may look down and see that virtue is one, but that the forms of vice are innumerable; there being four special ones which are deserving of note. what do you mean? he said. i mean, i replied, that there appear to be as many forms of the soul as there are distinct forms of the state. how many? there are five of the state, and five of the soul, i said. what are they? the first, i said, is that which we have been describing, and which may be said to have two names, monarchy and aristocracy, accordingly as rule is exercised by one distinguished man or by many. true, he replied. but i regard the two names as describing one form only; for whether the government is in the hands of one or many, if the governors have been trained in the manner which we have supposed, the fundamental laws of the state will be maintained. that is true, he replied. book v socrates - glaucon - adeimantus such is the good and true city or state, and the good and man is of the same pattern; and if this is right every other is wrong; and the evil is one which affects not only the ordering of the state, but also the regulation of the individual soul, and is exhibited in four forms. what are they? he said. i was proceeding to tell the order in which the four evil forms appeared to me to succeed one another, when pole marchus, who was sitting a little way off, just beyond adeimantus, began to whisper to him: stretching forth his hand, he took hold of the upper part of his coat by the shoulder, and drew him towards him, leaning forward himself so as to be quite close and saying something in his ear, of which i only caught the words, 'shall we let him off, or what shall we do?' certainly not, said adeimantus, raising his voice. who is it, i said, whom you are refusing to let off? you, he said. i repeated, why am i especially not to be let off? why, he said, we think that you are lazy, and mean to cheat us out of a whole chapter which is a very important part of the story; and you fancy that we shall not notice your airy way of proceeding; as if it were self-evident to everybody, that in the matter of women and children 'friends have all things in common.' and was i not right, adeimantus? yes, he said; but what is right in this particular case, like everything else, requires to be explained; for community may be of many kinds. please, therefore, to say what sort of community you mean. we have been long expecting that you would tell us something about the family life of your citizens--how they will bring children into the world, and rear them when they have arrived, and, in general, what is the nature of this community of women and children-for we are of opinion that the right or wrong management of such matters will have a great and paramount influence on the state for good or for evil. and now, since the question is still undetermined, and you are taking in hand another state, we have resolved, as you heard, not to let you go until you give an account of all this. to that resolution, said glaucon, you may regard me as saying agreed. socrates - adeimantus - glaucon - thrasymachus and without more ado, said thrasymachus, you may consider us all to be equally agreed. i said, you know not what you are doing in thus assailing me: what an argument are you raising about the state! just as i thought that i had finished, and was only too glad that i had laid this question to sleep, and was reflecting how fortunate i was in your acceptance of what i then said, you ask me to begin again at the very foundation, ignorant of what a hornet's nest of words you are stirring. now i foresaw this gathering trouble, and avoided it. for what purpose do you conceive that we have come here, said thrasymachus,--to look for gold, or to hear discourse? yes, but discourse should have a limit. yes, socrates, said glaucon, and the whole of life is the only limit which wise men assign to the hearing of such discourses. but never mind about us; take heart yourself and answer the question in your own way: what sort of community of women and children is this which is to prevail among our guardians? and how shall we manage the period between birth and education, which seems to require the greatest care? tell us how these things will be. yes, my simple friend, but the answer is the reverse of easy; many more doubts arise about this than about our previous conclusions. for the practicability of what is said may be doubted; and looked at in another point of view, whether the scheme, if ever so practicable, would be for the best, is also doubtful. hence i feel a reluctance to approach the subject, lest our aspiration, my dear friend, should turn out to be a dream only. fear not, he replied, for your audience will not be hard upon you; they are not sceptical or hostile. i said: my good friend, i suppose that you mean to encourage me by these words. yes, he said. then let me tell you that you are doing just the reverse; the encouragement which you offer would have been all very well had i myself believed that i knew what i was talking about: to declare the truth about matters of high interest which a man honours and loves among wise men who love him need occasion no fear or faltering in his mind; but to carry on an argument when you are yourself only a hesitating enquirer, which is my condition, is a dangerous and slippery thing; and the danger is not that i shall be laughed at (of which the fear would be childish), but that i shall miss the truth where i have most need to be sure of my footing, and drag my friends after me in my fall. and i pray nemesis not to visit upon me the words which i am going to utter. for i do indeed believe that to be an involuntary homicide is a less crime than to be a deceiver about beauty or goodness or justice in the matter of laws. and that is a risk which i would rather run among enemies than among friends, and therefore you do well to encourage me. glaucon laughed and said: well then, socrates, in case you and your argument do us any serious injury you shall be acquitted beforehand of the and shall not be held to be a deceiver; take courage then and speak. well, i said, the law says that when a man is acquitted he is free from guilt, and what holds at law may hold in argument. then why should you mind? well, i replied, i suppose that i must retrace my steps and say what i perhaps ought to have said before in the proper place. the part of the men has been played out, and now properly enough comes the turn of the women. of them i will proceed to speak, and the more readily since i am invited by you. for men born and educated like our citizens, the only way, in my opinion, of arriving at a right conclusion about the possession and use of women and children is to follow the path on which we originally started, when we said that the men were to be the guardians and watchdogs of the herd. true. let us further suppose the birth and education of our women to be subject to similar or nearly similar regulations; then we shall see whether the result accords with our design. what do you mean? what i mean may be put into the form of a question, i said: are dogs divided into hes and shes, or do they both share equally in hunting and in keeping watch and in the other duties of dogs? or do we entrust to the males the entire and exclusive care of the flocks, while we leave the females at home, under the idea that the bearing and suckling their puppies is labour enough for them? no, he said, they share alike; the only difference between them is that the males are stronger and the females weaker. but can you use different animals for the same purpose, unless they are bred and fed in the same way? you cannot. then, if women are to have the same duties as men, they must have the same nurture and education? yes. the education which was assigned to the men was music and gymnastic. yes. then women must be taught music and gymnastic and also the art of war, which they must practise like the men? that is the inference, i suppose. i should rather expect, i said, that several of our proposals, if they are carried out, being unusual, may appear ridiculous. no doubt of it. yes, and the most ridiculous thing of all will be the sight of women naked in the palaestra, exercising with the men, especially when they are no longer young; they certainly will not be a vision of beauty, any more than the enthusiastic old men who in spite of wrinkles and ugliness continue to frequent the gymnasia. yes, indeed, he said: according to present notions the proposal would be thought ridiculous. but then, i said, as we have determined to speak our minds, we must not fear the jests of the wits which will be directed against this sort of innovation; how they will talk of women's attainments both in music and gymnastic, and above all about their wearing armour and riding upon horseback! very true, he replied. yet having begun we must go forward to the rough places of the law; at the same time begging of these gentlemen for once in their life to be serious. not long ago, as we shall remind them, the hellenes were of the opinion, which is still generally received among the barbarians, that the sight of a naked man was ridiculous and improper; and when first the cretans and then the lacedaemonians introduced the custom, the wits of that day might equally have ridiculed the innovation. no doubt. but when experience showed that to let all things be uncovered was far better than to cover them up, and the ludicrous effect to the outward eye vanished before the better principle which reason asserted, then the man was perceived to be a fool who directs the shafts of his ridicule at any other sight but that of folly and vice, or seriously inclines to weigh the beautiful by any other standard but that of the good. very true, he replied. first, then, whether the question is to be put in jest or in earnest, let us come to an understanding about the nature of woman: is she capable of sharing either wholly or partially in the actions of men, or not at all? and is the art of war one of those arts in which she can or can not share? that will be the best way of commencing the enquiry, and will probably lead to the fairest conclusion. that will be much the best way. shall we take the other side first and begin by arguing against ourselves; in this manner the adversary's position will not be undefended. why not? he said. then let us put a speech into the mouths of our opponents. they will say: 'socrates and glaucon, no adversary need convict you, for you yourselves, at the first foundation of the state, admitted the principle that everybody was to do the one work suited to his own nature.' and certainly, if i am not mistaken, such an admission was made by us. 'and do not the natures of men and women differ very much indeed?' and we shall reply: of course they do. then we shall be asked, 'whether the tasks assigned to men and to women should not be different, and such as are agreeable to their different natures?' certainly they should. 'but if so, have you not fallen into a serious inconsistency in saying that men and women, whose natures are so entirely different, ought to perform the same actions?'-- what defence will you make for us, my good sir, against any one who offers these objections? that is not an easy question to answer when asked suddenly; and i shall and i do beg of you to draw out the case on our side. these are the objections, glaucon, and there are many others of a like kind, which i foresaw long ago; they made me afraid and reluctant to take in hand any law about the possession and nurture of women and children. by zeus, he said, the problem to be solved is anything but easy. why yes, i said, but the fact is that when a man is out of his depth, whether he has fallen into a little swimming bath or into mid-ocean, he has to swim all the same. very true. and must not we swim and try to reach the shore: we will hope that arion's dolphin or some other miraculous help may save us? i suppose so, he said. well then, let us see if any way of escape can be found. we acknowledged--did we not? that different natures ought to have different pursuits, and that men's and women's natures are different. and now what are we saying?--that different natures ought to have the same pursuits,--this is the inconsistency which is charged upon us. precisely. verily, glaucon, i said, glorious is the power of the art of contradiction! why do you say so? because i think that many a man falls into the practice against his will. when he thinks that he is reasoning he is really disputing, just because he cannot define and divide, and so know that of which he is speaking; and he will pursue a merely verbal opposition in the spirit of contention and not of fair discussion. yes, he replied, such is very often the case; but what has that to do with us and our argument? a great deal; for there is certainly a danger of our getting unintentionally into a verbal opposition. in what way? why, we valiantly and pugnaciously insist upon the verbal truth, that different natures ought to have different pursuits, but we never considered at all what was the meaning of sameness or difference of nature, or why we distinguished them when we assigned different pursuits to different natures and the same to the same natures. why, no, he said, that was never considered by us. i said: suppose that by way of illustration we were to ask the question whether there is not an opposition in nature between bald men and hairy men; and if this is admitted by us, then, if bald men are cobblers, we should forbid the hairy men to be cobblers, and conversely? that would be a jest, he said. yes, i said, a jest; and why? because we never meant when we constructed the state, that the opposition of natures should extend to every difference, but only to those differences which affected the pursuit in which the individual is engaged; we should have argued, for example, that a physician and one who is in mind a physician may be said to have the same nature. true. whereas the physician and the carpenter have different natures? certainly. and if, i said, the male and female sex appear to differ in their fitness for any art or pursuit, we should say that such pursuit or art ought to be assigned to one or the other of them; but if the difference consists only in women bearing and men begetting children, this does not amount to a proof that a woman differs from a man in respect of the sort of education she should receive; and we shall therefore continue to maintain that our guardians and their wives ought to have the same pursuits. very true, he said. next, we shall ask our opponent how, in reference to any of the pursuits or arts of civic life, the nature of a woman differs from that of a man? that will be quite fair. and perhaps he, like yourself, will reply that to give a sufficient answer on the instant is not easy; but after a little reflection there is no difficulty. yes, perhaps. suppose then that we invite him to accompany us in the argument, and then we may hope to show him that there is nothing peculiar in the constitution of women which would affect them in the administration of the state. by all means. let us say to him: come now, and we will ask you a question:--when you spoke of a nature gifted or not gifted in any respect, did you mean to say that one man will acquire a thing easily, another with difficulty; a little learning will lead the one to discover a great deal; whereas the other, after much study and application, no sooner learns than he forgets; or again, did you mean, that the one has a body which is a good servant to his mind, while the body of the other is a hindrance to him?-would not these be the sort of differences which distinguish the man gifted by nature from the one who is ungifted? no one will deny that. and can you mention any pursuit of mankind in which the male sex has not all these gifts and qualities in a higher degree than the female? need i waste time in speaking of the art of weaving, and the management of pancakes and preserves, in which womankind does really appear to be great, and in which for her to be beaten by a man is of all things the most absurd? you are quite right, he replied, in maintaining the general inferiority of the female sex: although many women are in many things superior to many men, yet on the whole what you say is true. and if so, my friend, i said, there is no special faculty of administration in a state which a woman has because she is a woman, or which a man has by virtue of his sex, but the gifts of nature are alike diffused in both; all the pursuits of men are the pursuits of women also, but in all of them a woman is inferior to a man. very true. then are we to impose all our enactments on men and none of them on women? that will never do. one woman has a gift of healing, another not; one is a musician, and another has no music in her nature? very true. and one woman has a turn for gymnastic and military exercises, and another is unwarlike and hates gymnastics? certainly. and one woman is a philosopher, and another is an enemy of philosophy; one has spirit, and another is without spirit? that is also true. then one woman will have the temper of a guardian, and another not. was not the selection of the male guardians determined by differences of this sort? yes. men and women alike possess the qualities which make a guardian; they differ only in their comparative strength or weakness. obviously. and those women who have such qualities are to be selected as the companions and colleagues of men who have similar qualities and whom they resemble in capacity and in character? very true. and ought not the same natures to have the same pursuits? they ought. then, as we were saying before, there is nothing unnatural in assigning music and gymnastic to the wives of the guardians--to that point we come round again. certainly not. the law which we then enacted was agreeable to nature, and therefore not an impossibility or mere aspiration; and the contrary practice, which prevails at present, is in reality a violation of nature. that appears to be true. we had to consider, first, whether our proposals were possible, and secondly whether they were the most beneficial? yes. and the possibility has been acknowledged? yes. the very great benefit has next to be established? quite so. you will admit that the same education which makes a man a good guardian will make a woman a good guardian; for their original nature is the same? yes. i should like to ask you a question. what is it? would you say that all men are equal in excellence, or is one man better than another? the latter. and in the commonwealth which we were founding do you conceive the guardians who have been brought up on our model system to be more perfect men, or the cobblers whose education has been cobbling? what a ridiculous question! you have answered me, i replied: well, and may we not further say that our guardians are the best of our citizens? by far the best. and will not their wives be the best women? yes, by far the best. and can there be anything better for the interests of the state than that the men and women of a state should be as good as possible? there can be nothing better. and this is what the arts of music and gymnastic, when present in such manner as we have described, will accomplish? certainly. then we have made an enactment not only possible but in the highest degree beneficial to the state? true. then let the wives of our guardians strip, for their virtue will be their robe, and let them share in the toils of war and the defence of their country; only in the distribution of labours the lighter are to be assigned to the women, who are the weaker natures, but in other respects their duties are to be the same. and as for the man who laughs at naked women exercising their bodies from the best of motives, in his laughter he is plucking a fruit of unripe wisdom, and he himself is ignorant of what he is laughing at, or what he is about;--for that is, and ever will be, the best of sayings, that the useful is the noble and the hurtful is the base. very true. here, then, is one difficulty in our law about women, which we may say that we have now escaped; the wave has not swallowed us up alive for enacting that the guardians of either sex should have all their pursuits in common; to the utility and also to the possibility of this arrangement the consistency of the argument with itself bears witness. yes, that was a mighty wave which you have escaped. yes, i said, but a greater is coming; you will of this when you see the next. go on; let me see. the law, i said, which is the sequel of this and of all that has preceded, is to the following effect,--'that the wives of our guardians are to be common, and their children are to be common, and no parent is to know his own child, nor any child his parent.' yes, he said, that is a much greater wave than the other; and the possibility as well as the utility of such a law are far more questionable. i do not think, i said, that there can be any dispute about the very great utility of having wives and children in common; the possibility is quite another matter, and will be very much disputed. i think that a good many doubts may be raised about both. you imply that the two questions must be combined, i replied. now i meant that you should admit the utility; and in this way, as i thought; i should escape from one of them, and then there would remain only the possibility. but that little attempt is detected, and therefore you will please to give a defence of both. well, i said, i submit to my fate. yet grant me a little favour: let me feast my mind with the dream as day dreamers are in the habit of feasting themselves when they are walking alone; for before they have discovered any means of effecting their wishes--that is a matter which never troubles them--they would rather not tire themselves by thinking about possibilities; but assuming that what they desire is already granted to them, they proceed with their plan, and delight in detailing what they mean to do when their wish has come true--that is a way which they have of not doing much good to a capacity which was never good for much. now i myself am beginning to lose heart, and i should like, with your permission, to pass over the question of possibility at present. assuming therefore the possibility of the proposal, i shall now proceed to enquire how the rulers will carry out these arrangements, and i shall demonstrate that our plan, if executed, will be of the greatest benefit to the state and to the guardians. first of all, then, if you have no objection, i will endeavour with your help to consider the advantages of the measure; and hereafter the question of possibility. i have no objection; proceed. first, i think that if our rulers and their auxiliaries are to be worthy of the name which they bear, there must be willingness to obey in the one and the power of command in the other; the guardians must themselves obey the laws, and they must also imitate the spirit of them in any details which are entrusted to their care. that is right, he said. you, i said, who are their legislator, having selected the men, will now select the women and give them to them;--they must be as far as possible of like natures with them; and they must live in common houses and meet at common meals, none of them will have anything specially his or her own; they will be together, and will be brought up together, and will associate at gymnastic exercises. and so they will be drawn by a necessity of their natures to have intercourse with each other--necessity is not too strong a word, i think? yes, he said;--necessity, not geometrical, but another sort of necessity which lovers know, and which is far more convincing and constraining to the mass of mankind. true, i said; and this, glaucon, like all the rest, must proceed after an orderly fashion; in a city of the blessed, licentiousness is an unholy thing which the rulers will forbid. yes, he said, and it ought not to be permitted. then clearly the next thing will be to make matrimony sacred in the highest degree, and what is most beneficial will be deemed sacred? exactly. and how can marriages be made most beneficial?--that is a question which i put to you, because i see in your house dogs for hunting, and of the nobler sort of birds not a few. now, i beseech you, do tell me, have you ever attended to their pairing and breeding? in what particulars? why, in the first place, although they are all of a good sort, are not some better than others? true. and do you breed from them all indifferently, or do you take care to breed from the best only? from the best. and do you take the oldest or the youngest, or only those of ripe age? i choose only those of ripe age. and if care was not taken in the breeding, your dogs and birds would greatly deteriorate? certainly. and the same of horses and animals in general? undoubtedly. good heavens! my dear friend, i said, what consummate skill will our rulers need if the same principle holds of the human species! certainly, the same principle holds; but why does this involve any particular skill? because, i said, our rulers will often have to practise upon the body corporate with medicines. now you know that when patients do not require medicines, but have only to be put under a regimen, the inferior sort of practitioner is deemed to be good enough; but when medicine has to be given, then the doctor should be more of a man. that is quite true, he said; but to what are you alluding? i mean, i replied, that our rulers will find a considerable dose of falsehood and deceit necessary for the good of their subjects: we were saying that the use of all these things regarded as medicines might be of advantage. and we were very right. and this lawful use of them seems likely to be often needed in the regulations of marriages and births. how so? why, i said, the principle has been already laid down that the best of either sex should be united with the best as often, and the inferior with the inferior, as seldom as possible; and that they should rear the offspring of the one sort of union, but not of the other, if the flock is to be maintained in first-rate condition. now these goings on must be a secret which the rulers only know, or there will be a further danger of our herd, as the guardians may be termed, breaking out into rebellion. very true. had we not better appoint certain festivals at which we will bring together the brides and bridegrooms, and sacrifices will be offered and suitable hymeneal songs composed by our poets: the number of weddings is a matter which must be left to the discretion of the rulers, whose aim will be to preserve the average of population? there are many other things which they will have to consider, such as the effects of wars and diseases and any similar agencies, in order as far as this is possible to prevent the state from becoming either too large or too small. certainly, he replied. we shall have to invent some ingenious kind of lots which the less worthy may draw on each occasion of our bringing them together, and then they will accuse their own ill-luck and not the rulers. to be sure, he said. and i think that our braver and better youth, besides their other honours and rewards, might have greater facilities of intercourse with women given them; their bravery will be a reason, and such fathers ought to have as many sons as possible. true. and the proper officers, whether male or female or both, for offices are to be held by women as well as by men-- yes-- the proper officers will take the offspring of the good parents to the pen or fold, and there they will deposit them with certain nurses who dwell in a separate quarter; but the offspring of the inferior, or of the better when they chance to be deformed, will be put away in some mysterious, unknown place, as they should be. yes, he said, that must be done if the breed of the guardians is to be kept pure. they will provide for their nurture, and will bring the mothers to the fold when they are full of milk, taking the greatest possible care that no mother recognizes her own child; and other wet-nurses may be engaged if more are required. care will also be taken that the process of suckling shall not be protracted too long; and the mothers will have no getting up at night or other trouble, but will hand over all this sort of thing to the nurses and attendants. you suppose the wives of our guardians to have a fine easy time of it when they are having children. why, said i, and so they ought. let us, however, proceed with our scheme. we were saying that the parents should be in the prime of life? very true. and what is the prime of life? may it not be defined as a period of about twenty years in a woman's life, and thirty in a man's? which years do you mean to include? a woman, i said, at twenty years of age may begin to bear children to the state, and continue to bear them until forty; a man may begin at five-and-twenty, when he has passed the point at which the pulse of life beats quickest, and continue to beget children until he be fifty-five. certainly, he said, both in men and women those years are the prime of physical as well as of intellectual vigour. any one above or below the prescribed ages who takes part in the public hymeneals shall be said to have done an unholy and unrighteous thing; the child of which he is the father, if it steals into life, will have been conceived under auspices very unlike the sacrifices and prayers, which at each hymeneal priestesses and priest and the whole city will offer, that the new generation may be better and more useful than their good and useful parents, whereas his child will be the offspring of darkness and strange lust. very true, he replied. and the same law will apply to any one of those within the prescribed age who forms a connection with any woman in the prime of life without the sanction of the rulers; for we shall say that he is raising up a bastard to the state, uncertified and unconsecrated. very true, he replied. this applies, however, only to those who are within the specified age: after that we allow them to range at will, except that a man may not marry his daughter or his daughter's daughter, or his mother or his mother's mother; and women, on the other hand, are prohibited from marrying their sons or fathers, or son's son or father's father, and so on in either direction. and we grant all this, accompanying the permission with strict orders to prevent any embryo which may come into being from seeing the light; and if any force a way to the birth, the parents must understand that the offspring of such an union cannot be maintained, and arrange accordingly. that also, he said, is a reasonable proposition. but how will they know who are fathers and daughters, and so on? they will never know. the way will be this:--dating from the day of the hymeneal, the bridegroom who was then married will call all the male children who are born in the seventh and tenth month afterwards his sons, and the female children his daughters, and they will call him father, and he will call their children his grandchildren, and they will call the elder generation grandfathers and grandmothers. all who were begotten at the time when their fathers and mothers came together will be called their brothers and sisters, and these, as i was saying, will be forbidden to inter-marry. this, however, is not to be understood as an absolute prohibition of the marriage of brothers and sisters; if the lot favours them, and they receive the sanction of the pythian oracle, the law will allow them. quite right, he replied. such is the scheme, glaucon, according to which the guardians of our state are to have their wives and families in common. and now you would have the argument show that this community is consistent with the rest of our polity, and also that nothing can be better--would you not? yes, certainly. shall we try to find a common basis by asking of ourselves what ought to be the chief aim of the legislator in making laws and in the organization of a state,--what is the greatest i good, and what is the greatest evil, and then consider whether our previous description has the stamp of the good or of the evil? by all means. can there be any greater evil than discord and distraction and plurality where unity ought to reign? or any greater good than the bond of unity? there cannot. and there is unity where there is community of pleasures and pains--where all the citizens are glad or grieved on the same occasions of joy and sorrow? no doubt. yes; and where there is no common but only private feeling a state is disorganized--when you have one half of the world triumphing and the other plunged in grief at the same events happening to the city or the citizens? certainly. such differences commonly originate in a disagreement about the use of the terms 'mine' and 'not mine,' 'his' and 'not his.' exactly so. and is not that the best-ordered state in which the greatest number of persons apply the terms 'mine' and 'not mine' in the same way to the same thing? quite true. or that again which most nearly approaches to the condition of the individual--as in the body, when but a finger of one of us is hurt, the whole frame, drawn towards the soul as a center and forming one kingdom under the ruling power therein, feels the hurt and sympathizes all together with the part affected, and we say that the man has a pain in his finger; and the same expression is used about any other part of the body, which has a sensation of pain at suffering or of pleasure at the alleviation of suffering. very true, he replied; and i agree with you that in the best-ordered state there is the nearest approach to this common feeling which you describe. then when any one of the citizens experiences any good or evil, the whole state will make his case their own, and will either rejoice or sorrow with him? yes, he said, that is what will happen in a well-ordered state. it will now be time, i said, for us to return to our state and see whether this or some other form is most in accordance with these fundamental principles. very good. our state like every other has rulers and subjects? true. all of whom will call one another citizens? of course. but is there not another name which people give to their rulers in other states? generally they call them masters, but in democratic states they simply call them rulers. and in our state what other name besides that of citizens do the people give the rulers? they are called saviours and helpers, he replied. and what do the rulers call the people? their maintainers and foster-fathers. and what do they call them in other states? slaves. and what do the rulers call one another in other states? fellow-rulers. and what in ours? fellow-guardians. did you ever know an example in any other state of a ruler who would speak of one of his colleagues as his friend and of another as not being his friend? yes, very often. and the friend he regards and describes as one in whom he has an interest, and the other as a stranger in whom he has no interest? exactly. but would any of your guardians think or speak of any other guardian as a stranger? certainly he would not; for every one whom they meet will be regarded by them either as a brother or sister, or father or mother, or son or daughter, or as the child or parent of those who are thus connected with him. capital, i said; but let me ask you once more: shall they be a family in name only; or shall they in all their actions be true to the name? for example, in the use of the word 'father,' would the care of a father be implied and the filial reverence and duty and obedience to him which the law commands; and is the violator of these duties to be regarded as an impious and unrighteous person who is not likely to receive much good either at the hands of god or of man? are these to be or not to be the strains which the children will hear repeated in their ears by all the citizens about those who are intimated to them to be their parents and the rest of their kinsfolk? these, he said, and none other; for what can be more ridiculous than for them to utter the names of family ties with the lips only and not to act in the spirit of them? then in our city the language of harmony and concord will be more often beard than in any other. as i was describing before, when any one is well or ill, the universal word will be with me 'it is well' or 'it is ill.' most true. and agreeably to this mode of thinking and speaking, were we not saying that they will have their pleasures and pains in common? yes, and so they will. and they will have a common interest in the same thing which they will alike call 'my own,' and having this common interest they will have a common feeling of pleasure and pain? yes, far more so than in other states. and the reason of this, over and above the general constitution of the state, will be that the guardians will have a community of women and children? that will be the chief reason. and this unity of feeling we admitted to be the greatest good, as was implied in our own comparison of a well-ordered state to the relation of the body and the members, when affected by pleasure or pain? that we acknowledged, and very rightly. then the community of wives and children among our citizens is clearly the source of the greatest good to the state? certainly. and this agrees with the other principle which we were affirming,--that the guardians were not to have houses or lands or any other property; their pay was to be their food, which they were to receive from the other citizens, and they were to have no private expenses; for we intended them to preserve their true character of guardians. right, he replied. both the community of property and the community of families, as i am saying, tend to make them more truly guardians; they will not tear the city in pieces by differing about 'mine' and 'not mine;' each man dragging any acquisition which he has made into a separate house of his own, where he has a separate wife and children and private pleasures and pains; but all will be affected as far as may be by the same pleasures and pains because they are all of one opinion about what is near and dear to them, and therefore they all tend towards a common end. certainly, he replied. and as they have nothing but their persons which they can call their own, suits and complaints will have no existence among them; they will be delivered from all those quarrels of which money or children or relations are the occasion. of course they will. neither will trials for assault or insult ever be likely to occur among them. for that equals should defend themselves against equals we shall maintain to be honourable and right; we shall make the protection of the person a matter of necessity. that is good, he said. yes; and there is a further good in the law; viz. that if a man has a quarrel with another he will satisfy his resentment then and there, and not proceed to more dangerous lengths. certainly. to the elder shall be assigned the duty of ruling and chastising the younger. clearly. nor can there be a doubt that the younger will not strike or do any other violence to an elder, unless the magistrates command him; nor will he slight him in any way. for there are two guardians, shame and fear, mighty to prevent him: shame, which makes men refrain from laying hands on those who are to them in the relation of parents; fear, that the injured one will be succoured by the others who are his brothers, sons, one wi fathers. that is true, he replied. then in every way the laws will help the citizens to keep the peace with one another? yes, there will be no want of peace. and as the guardians will never quarrel among themselves there will be no danger of the rest of the city being divided either against them or against one another. none whatever. i hardly like even to mention the little meannesses of which they will be rid, for they are beneath notice: such, for example, as the flattery of the rich by the poor, and all the pains and pangs which men experience in bringing up a family, and in finding money to buy necessaries for their household, borrowing and then repudiating, getting how they can, and giving the money into the hands of women and slaves to keep--the many evils of so many kinds which people suffer in this way are mean enough and obvious enough, and not worth speaking of. yes, he said, a man has no need of eyes in order to perceive that. and from all these evils they will be delivered, and their life will be blessed as the life of olympic victors and yet more blessed. how so? the olympic victor, i said, is deemed happy in receiving a part only of the blessedness which is secured to our citizens, who have won a more glorious victory and have a more complete maintenance at the public cost. for the victory which they have won is the salvation of the whole state; and the crown with which they and their children are crowned is the fulness of all that life needs; they receive rewards from the hands of their country while living, and after death have an honourable burial. yes, he said, and glorious rewards they are. do you remember, i said, how in the course of the previous discussion some one who shall be nameless accused us of making our guardians unhappy--they had nothing and might have possessed all things-to whom we replied that, if an occasion offered, we might perhaps hereafter consider this question, but that, as at present advised, we would make our guardians truly guardians, and that we were fashioning the state with a view to the greatest happiness, not of any particular class, but of the whole? yes, i remember. and what do you say, now that the life of our protectors is made out to be far better and nobler than that of olympic victors--is the life of shoemakers, or any other artisans, or of husbandmen, to be compared with it? certainly not. at the same time i ought here to repeat what i have said elsewhere, that if any of our guardians shall try to be happy in such a manner that he will cease to be a guardian, and is not content with this safe and harmonious life, which, in our judgment, is of all lives the best, but infatuated by some youthful conceit of happiness which gets up into his head shall seek to appropriate the whole state to himself, then he will have to learn how wisely hesiod spoke, when he said, 'half is more than the whole.' if he were to consult me, i should say to him: stay where you are, when you have the offer of such a life. you agree then, i said, that men and women are to have a common way of life such as we have described--common education, common children; and they are to watch over the citizens in common whether abiding in the city or going out to war; they are to keep watch together, and to hunt together like dogs; and always and in all things, as far as they are able, women are to share with the men? and in so doing they will do what is best, and will not violate, but preserve the natural relation of the sexes. i agree with you, he replied. the enquiry, i said, has yet to be made, whether such a community be found possible--as among other animals, so also among men--and if possible, in what way possible? you have anticipated the question which i was about to suggest. there is no difficulty, i said, in seeing how war will be carried on by them. how? why, of course they will go on expeditions together; and will take with them any of their children who are strong enough, that, after the manner of the artisan's child, they may look on at the work which they will have to do when they are grown up; and besides looking on they will have to help and be of use in war, and to wait upon their fathers and mothers. did you never observe in the arts how the potters' boys look on and help, long before they touch the wheel? yes, i have. and shall potters be more careful in educating their children and in giving them the opportunity of seeing and practising their duties than our guardians will be? the idea is ridiculous, he said. there is also the effect on the parents, with whom, as with other animals, the presence of their young ones will be the greatest incentive to valour. that is quite true, socrates; and yet if they are defeated, which may often happen in war, how great the danger is! the children will be lost as well as their parents, and the state will never recover. true, i said; but would you never allow them to run any risk? i am far from saying that. well, but if they are ever to run a risk should they not do so on some occasion when, if they escape disaster, they will be the better for it? clearly. whether the future soldiers do or do not see war in the days of their youth is a very important matter, for the sake of which some risk may fairly be incurred. yes, very important. this then must be our first step,--to make our children spectators of war; but we must also contrive that they shall be secured against danger; then all will be well. true. their parents may be supposed not to be blind to the risks of war, but to know, as far as human foresight can, what expeditions are safe and what dangerous? that may be assumed. and they will take them on the safe expeditions and be cautious about the dangerous ones? true. and they will place them under the command of experienced veterans who will be their leaders and teachers? very properly. still, the dangers of war cannot be always foreseen; there is a good deal of chance about them? true. then against such chances the children must be at once furnished with wings, in order that in the hour of need they may fly away and escape. what do you mean? he said. i mean that we must mount them on horses in their earliest youth, and when they have learnt to ride, take them on horseback to see war: the horses must be spirited and warlike, but the most tractable and yet the swiftest that can be had. in this way they will get an excellent view of what is hereafter to be their own business; and if there is danger they have only to follow their elder leaders and escape. i believe that you are right, he said. next, as to war; what are to be the relations of your soldiers to one another and to their enemies? i should be inclined to propose that the soldier who leaves his rank or throws away his arms, or is guilty of any other act of cowardice, should be degraded into the rank of a husbandman or artisan. what do you think? by all means, i should say. and he who allows himself to be taken prisoner may as well be made a present of to his enemies; he is their lawful prey, and let them do what they like with him. certainly. but the hero who has distinguished himself, what shall be done to him? in the first place, he shall receive honour in the army from his youthful comrades; every one of them in succession shall crown him. what do you say? i approve. and what do you say to his receiving the right hand of fellowship? to that too, i agree. but you will hardly agree to my next proposal. what is your proposal? that he should kiss and be kissed by them. most certainly, and i should be disposed to go further, and say: let no one whom he has a mind to kiss refuse to be kissed by him while the expedition lasts. so that if there be a lover in the army, whether his love be youth or maiden, he may be more eager to win the prize of valour. capital, i said. that the brave man is to have more wives than others has been already determined: and he is to have first choices in such matters more than others, in order that he may have as many children as possible? agreed. again, there is another manner in which, according to homer, brave youths should be honoured; for he tells how ajax, after he had distinguished himself in battle, was rewarded with long chines, which seems to be a compliment appropriate to a hero in the flower of his age, being not only a tribute of honour but also a very strengthening thing. most true, he said. then in this, i said, homer shall be our teacher; and we too, at sacrifices and on the like occasions, will honour the brave according to the measure of their valour, whether men or women, with hymns and those other distinctions which we were mentioning; also with seats of precedence, and meats and full cups; and in honouring them, we shall be at the same time training them. that, he replied, is excellent. yes, i said; and when a man dies gloriously in war shall we not say, in the first place, that he is of the golden race? to be sure. nay, have we not the authority of hesiod for affirming that when they are dead they are holy angels upon the earth, authors of good, averters of evil, the guardians of speech-gifted men? yes; and we accept his authority. we must learn of the god how we are to order the sepulture of divine and heroic personages, and what is to be their special distinction and we must do as he bids? by all means. and in ages to come we will reverence them and kneel before their sepulchres as at the graves of heroes. and not only they but any who are deemed pre-eminently good, whether they die from age, or in any other way, shall be admitted to the same honours. that is very right, he said. next, how shall our soldiers treat their enemies? what about this? in what respect do you mean? first of all, in regard to slavery? do you think it right that hellenes should enslave hellenic states, or allow others to enslave them, if they can help? should not their custom be to spare them, considering the danger which there is that the whole race may one day fall under the yoke of the barbarians? to spare them is infinitely better. then no hellene should be owned by them as a slave; that is a rule which they will observe and advise the other hellenes to observe. certainly, he said; they will in this way be united against the barbarians and will keep their hands off one another. next as to the slain; ought the conquerors, i said, to take anything but their armour? does not the practice of despoiling an enemy afford an excuse for not facing the battle? cowards skulk about the dead, pretending that they are fulfilling a duty, and many an army before now has been lost from this love of plunder. very true. and is there not illiberality and avarice in robbing a corpse, and also a degree of meanness and womanishness in making an enemy of the dead body when the real enemy has flown away and left only his fighting gear behind him,--is not this rather like a dog who cannot get at his assailant, quarrelling with the stones which strike him instead? very like a dog, he said. then we must abstain from spoiling the dead or hindering their burial? yes, he replied, we most certainly must. neither shall we offer up arms at the temples of the gods, least of all the arms of hellenes, if we care to maintain good feeling with other hellenes; and, indeed, we have reason to fear that the offering of spoils taken from kinsmen may be a pollution unless commanded by the god himself? very true. again, as to the devastation of hellenic territory or the burning of houses, what is to be the practice? may i have the pleasure, he said, of hearing your opinion? both should be forbidden, in my judgment; i would take the annual produce and no more. shall i tell you why? pray do. why, you see, there is a difference in the names 'discord' and 'war,' and i imagine that there is also a difference in their natures; the one is expressive of what is internal and domestic, the other of what is external and foreign; and the first of the two is termed discord, and only the second, war. that is a very proper distinction, he replied. and may i not observe with equal propriety that the hellenic race is all united together by ties of blood and friendship, and alien and strange to the barbarians? very good, he said. and therefore when hellenes fight with barbarians and barbarians with hellenes, they will be described by us as being at war when they fight, and by nature enemies, and this kind of antagonism should be called war; but when hellenes fight with one another we shall say that hellas is then in a state of disorder and discord, they being by nature friends and such enmity is to be called discord. i agree. consider then, i said, when that which we have acknowledged to be discord occurs, and a city is divided, if both parties destroy the lands and burn the houses of one another, how wicked does the strife appear! no true lover of his country would bring himself to tear in pieces his own nurse and mother: there might be reason in the conqueror depriving the conquered of their harvest, but still they would have the idea of peace in their hearts and would not mean to go on fighting for ever. yes, he said, that is a better temper than the other. and will not the city, which you are founding, be an hellenic city? it ought to be, he replied. then will not the citizens be good and civilized? yes, very civilized. and will they not be lovers of hellas, and think of hellas as their own land, and share in the common temples? most certainly. and any difference which arises among them will be regarded by them as discord only--a quarrel among friends, which is not to be called a war? certainly not. then they will quarrel as those who intend some day to be reconciled? certainly. they will use friendly correction, but will not enslave or destroy their opponents; they will be correctors, not enemies? just so. and as they are hellenes themselves they will not devastate hellas, nor will they burn houses, not even suppose that the whole population of a city--men, women, and children--are equally their enemies, for they know that the guilt of war is always confined to a few persons and that the many are their friends. and for all these reasons they will be unwilling to waste their lands and raze their houses; their enmity to them will only last until the many innocent sufferers have compelled the guilty few to give satisfaction? i agree, he said, that our citizens should thus deal with their hellenic enemies; and with barbarians as the hellenes now deal with one another. then let us enact this law also for our guardians:-that they are neither to devastate the lands of hellenes nor to burn their houses. agreed; and we may agree also in thinking that these, all our previous enactments, are very good. but still i must say, socrates, that if you are allowed to go on in this way you will entirely forget the other question which at the commencement of this discussion you thrust aside:--is such an order of things possible, and how, if at all? for i am quite ready to acknowledge that the plan which you propose, if only feasible, would do all sorts of good to the state. i will add, what you have omitted, that your citizens will be the bravest of warriors, and will never leave their ranks, for they will all know one another, and each will call the other father, brother, son; and if you suppose the women to join their armies, whether in the same rank or in the rear, either as a terror to the enemy, or as auxiliaries in case of need, i know that they will then be absolutely invincible; and there are many domestic tic advantages which might also be mentioned and which i also fully acknowledge: but, as i admit all these advantages and as many more as you please, if only this state of yours were to come into existence, we need say no more about them; assuming then the existence of the state, let us now turn to the question of possibility and ways and means--the rest may be left. if i loiter for a moment, you instantly make a raid upon me, i said, and have no mercy; i have hardly escaped the first and second waves, and you seem not to be aware that you are now bringing upon me the third, which is the greatest and heaviest. when you have seen and heard the third wave, i think you be more considerate and will acknowledge that some fear and hesitation was natural respecting a proposal so extraordinary as that which i have now to state and investigate. the more appeals of this sort which you make, he said, the more determined are we that you shall tell us how such a state is possible: speak out and at once. let me begin by reminding you that we found our way hither in the search after justice and injustice. true, he replied; but what of that? i was only going to ask whether, if we have discovered them, we are to require that the just man should in nothing fail of absolute justice; or may we be satisfied with an approximation, and the attainment in him of a higher degree of justice than is to be found in other men? the approximation will be enough. we are enquiring into the nature of absolute justice and into the character of the perfectly just, and into injustice and the perfectly unjust, that we might have an ideal. we were to look at these in order that we might judge of our own happiness and unhappiness according to the standard which they exhibited and the degree in which we resembled them, but not with any view of showing that they could exist in fact. true, he said. would a painter be any the worse because, after having delineated with consummate art an ideal of a perfectly beautiful man, he was unable to show that any such man could ever have existed? he would be none the worse. well, and were we not creating an ideal of a perfect state? to be sure. and is our theory a worse theory because we are unable to prove the possibility of a city being ordered in the manner described? surely not, he replied. that is the truth, i said. but if, at your request, i am to try and show how and under what conditions the possibility is highest, i must ask you, having this in view, to repeat your former admissions. what admissions? i want to know whether ideals are ever fully realised in language? does not the word express more than the fact, and must not the actual, whatever a man may think, always, in the nature of things, fall short of the truth? what do you say? i agree. then you must not insist on my proving that the actual state will in every respect coincide with the ideal: if we are only able to discover how a city may be governed nearly as we proposed, you will admit that we have discovered the possibility which you demand; and will be contented. i am sure that i should be contented--will not you? yes, i will. let me next endeavour to show what is that fault in states which is the cause of their present maladministration, and what is the least change which will enable a state to pass into the truer form; and let the change, if possible, be of one thing only, or if not, of two; at any rate, let the changes be as few and slight as possible. certainly, he replied. i think, i said, that there might be a reform of the state if only one change were made, which is not a slight or easy though still a possible one. what is it? he said. now then, i said, i go to meet that which i liken to the greatest of the waves; yet shall the word be spoken, even though the wave break and drown me in laughter and dishonour; and do you mark my words. proceed. i said: until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest from their evils,--nor the human race, as i believe,--and then only will this our state have a possibility of life and behold the light of day. such was the thought, my dear glaucon, which i would fain have uttered if it had not seemed too extravagant; for to be convinced that in no other state can there be happiness private or public is indeed a hard thing. socrates, what do you mean? i would have you consider that the word which you have uttered is one at which numerous persons, and very respectable persons too, in a figure pulling off their coats all in a moment, and seizing any weapon that comes to hand, will run at you might and main, before you know where you are, intending to do heaven knows what; and if you don't prepare an answer, and put yourself in motion, you will be prepared by their fine wits,' and no mistake. you got me into the scrape, i said. and i was quite right; however, i will do all i can to get you out of it; but i can only give you good-will and good advice, and, perhaps, i may be able to fit answers to your questions better than another--that is all. and now, having such an auxiliary, you must do your best to show the unbelievers that you are right. i ought to try, i said, since you offer me such invaluable assistance. and i think that, if there is to be a chance of our escaping, we must explain to them whom we mean when we say that philosophers are to rule in the state; then we shall be able to defend ourselves: there will be discovered to be some natures who ought to study philosophy and to be leaders in the state; and others who are not born to be philosophers, and are meant to be followers rather than leaders. then now for a definition, he said. follow me, i said, and i hope that i may in some way or other be able to give you a satisfactory explanation. proceed. i dare say that you remember, and therefore i need not remind you, that a lover, if lie is worthy of the name, ought to show his love, not to some one part of that which he loves, but to the whole. i really do not understand, and therefore beg of you to assist my memory. another person, i said, might fairly reply as you do; but a man of pleasure like yourself ought to know that all who are in the flower of youth do somehow or other raise a pang or emotion in a lover's breast, and are thought by him to be worthy of his affectionate regards. is not this a way which you have with the fair: one has a snub nose, and you praise his charming face; the hook-nose of another has, you say, a royal look; while he who is neither snub nor hooked has the grace of regularity: the dark visage is manly, the fair are children of the gods; and as to the sweet 'honey pale,' as they are called, what is the very name but the invention of a lover who talks in diminutives, and is not adverse to paleness if appearing on the cheek of youth? in a word, there is no excuse which you will not make, and nothing which you will not say, in order not to lose a single flower that blooms in the spring-time of youth. if you make me an authority in matters of love, for the sake of the argument, i assent. and what do you say of lovers of wine? do you not see them doing the same? they are glad of any pretext of drinking any wine. very good. and the same is true of ambitious men; if they cannot command an army, they are willing to command a file; and if they cannot be honoured by really great and important persons, they are glad to be honoured by lesser and meaner people, but honour of some kind they must have. exactly. once more let me ask: does he who desires any class of goods, desire the whole class or a part only? the whole. and may we not say of the philosopher that he is a lover, not of a part of wisdom only, but of the whole? yes, of the whole. and he who dislikes learnings, especially in youth, when he has no power of judging what is good and what is not, such an one we maintain not to be a philosopher or a lover of knowledge, just as he who refuses his food is not hungry, and may be said to have a bad appetite and not a good one? very true, he said. whereas he who has a taste for every sort of knowledge and who is curious to learn and is never satisfied, may be justly termed a philosopher? am i not right? glaucon said: if curiosity makes a philosopher, you will find many a strange being will have a title to the name. all the lovers of sights have a delight in learning, and must therefore be included. musical amateurs, too, are a folk strangely out of place among philosophers, for they are the last persons in the world who would come to anything like a philosophical discussion, if they could help, while they run about at the dionysiac festivals as if they had let out their ears to hear every chorus; whether the performance is in town or country--that makes no difference--they are there. now are we to maintain that all these and any who have similar tastes, as well as the professors of quite minor arts, are philosophers? certainly not, i replied; they are only an imitation. he said: who then are the true philosophers? those, i said, who are lovers of the vision of truth. that is also good, he said; but i should like to know what you mean? to another, i replied, i might have a difficulty in explaining; but i am sure that you will admit a proposition which i am about to make. what is the proposition? that since beauty is the opposite of ugliness, they are two? certainly. and inasmuch as they are two, each of them is one? true again. and of just and unjust, good and evil, and of every other class, the same remark holds: taken singly, each of them one; but from the various combinations of them with actions and things and with one another, they are seen in all sorts of lights and appear many? very true. and this is the distinction which i draw between the sight-loving, art-loving, practical class and those of whom i am speaking, and who are alone worthy of the name of philosophers. how do you distinguish them? he said. the lovers of sounds and sights, i replied, are, as i conceive, fond of fine tones and colours and forms and all the artificial products that are made out of them, but their mind is incapable of seeing or loving absolute beauty. true, he replied. few are they who are able to attain to the sight of this. very true. and he who, having a sense of beautiful things has no sense of absolute beauty, or who, if another lead him to a knowledge of that beauty is unable to follow--of such an one i ask, is he awake or in a dream only? reflect: is not the dreamer, sleeping or waking, one who likens dissimilar things, who puts the copy in the place of the real object? i should certainly say that such an one was dreaming. but take the case of the other, who recognises the existence of absolute beauty and is able to distinguish the idea from the objects which participate in the idea, neither putting the objects in the place of the idea nor the idea in the place of the objects--is he a dreamer, or is he awake? he is wide awake. and may we not say that the mind of the one who knows has knowledge, and that the mind of the other, who opines only, has opinion certainly. but suppose that the latter should quarrel with us and dispute our statement, can we administer any soothing cordial or advice to him, without revealing to him that there is sad disorder in his wits? we must certainly offer him some good advice, he replied. come, then, and let us think of something to say to him. shall we begin by assuring him that he is welcome to any knowledge which he may have, and that we are rejoiced at his having it? but we should like to ask him a question: does he who has knowledge know something or nothing? (you must answer for him.) i answer that he knows something. something that is or is not? something that is; for how can that which is not ever be known? and are we assured, after looking at the matter from many points of view, that absolute being is or may be absolutely known, but that the utterly non-existent is utterly unknown? nothing can be more certain. good. but if there be anything which is of such a nature as to be and not to be, that will have a place intermediate between pure being and the absolute negation of being? yes, between them. and, as knowledge corresponded to being and ignorance of necessity to not-being, for that intermediate between being and not-being there has to be discovered a corresponding intermediate between ignorance and knowledge, if there be such? certainly. do we admit the existence of opinion? undoubtedly. as being the same with knowledge, or another faculty? another faculty. then opinion and knowledge have to do with different kinds of matter corresponding to this difference of faculties? yes. and knowledge is relative to being and knows being. but before i proceed further i will make a division. what division? i will begin by placing faculties in a class by themselves: they are powers in us, and in all other things, by which we do as we do. sight and hearing, for example, i should call faculties. have i clearly explained the class which i mean? yes, i quite understand. then let me tell you my view about them. i do not see them, and therefore the distinctions of fire, colour, and the like, which enable me to discern the differences of some things, do not apply to them. in speaking of a faculty i think only of its sphere and its result; and that which has the same sphere and the same result i call the same faculty, but that which has another sphere and another result i call different. would that be your way of speaking? yes. and will you be so very good as to answer one more question? would you say that knowledge is a faculty, or in what class would you place it? certainly knowledge is a faculty, and the mightiest of all faculties. and is opinion also a faculty? certainly, he said; for opinion is that with which we are able to form an opinion. and yet you were acknowledging a little while ago that knowledge is not the same as opinion? why, yes, he said: how can any reasonable being ever identify that which is infallible with that which errs? an excellent answer, proving, i said, that we are quite conscious of a distinction between them. yes. then knowledge and opinion having distinct powers have also distinct spheres or subject-matters? that is certain. being is the sphere or subject-matter of knowledge, and knowledge is to know the nature of being? yes. and opinion is to have an opinion? yes. and do we know what we opine? or is the subject-matter of opinion the same as the subject-matter of knowledge? nay, he replied, that has been already disproven; if difference in faculty implies difference in the sphere or subject matter, and if, as we were saying, opinion and knowledge are distinct faculties, then the sphere of knowledge and of opinion cannot be the same. then if being is the subject-matter of knowledge, something else must be the subject-matter of opinion? yes, something else. well then, is not-being the subject-matter of opinion? or, rather, how can there be an opinion at all about not-being? reflect: when a man has an opinion, has he not an opinion about something? can he have an opinion which is an opinion about nothing? impossible. he who has an opinion has an opinion about some one thing? yes. and not-being is not one thing but, properly speaking, nothing? true. of not-being, ignorance was assumed to be the necessary correlative; of being, knowledge? true, he said. then opinion is not concerned either with being or with not-being? not with either. and can therefore neither be ignorance nor knowledge? that seems to be true. but is opinion to be sought without and beyond either of them, in a greater clearness than knowledge, or in a greater darkness than ignorance? in neither. then i suppose that opinion appears to you to be darker than knowledge, but lighter than ignorance? both; and in no small degree. and also to be within and between them? yes. then you would infer that opinion is intermediate? no question. but were we not saying before, that if anything appeared to be of a sort which is and is not at the same time, that sort of thing would appear also to lie in the interval between pure being and absolute not-being; and that the corresponding faculty is neither knowledge nor ignorance, but will be found in the interval between them? true. and in that interval there has now been discovered something which we call opinion? there has. then what remains to be discovered is the object which partakes equally of the nature of being and not-being, and cannot rightly be termed either, pure and simple; this unknown term, when discovered, we may truly call the subject of opinion, and assign each to its proper faculty, the extremes to the faculties of the extremes and the mean to the faculty of the mean. true. this being premised, i would ask the gentleman who is of opinion that there is no absolute or unchangeable idea of beauty--in whose opinion the beautiful is the manifold--he, i say, your lover of beautiful sights, who cannot bear to be told that the beautiful is one, and the just is one, or that anything is one--to him i would appeal, saying, will you be so very kind, sir, as to tell us whether, of all these beautiful things, there is one which will not be found ugly; or of the just, which will not be found unjust; or of the holy, which will not also be unholy? no, he replied; the beautiful will in some point of view be found ugly; and the same is true of the rest. and may not the many which are doubles be also halves?--doubles, that is, of one thing, and halves of another? quite true. and things great and small, heavy and light, as they are termed, will not be denoted by these any more than by the opposite names? true; both these and the opposite names will always attach to all of them. and can any one of those many things which are called by particular names be said to be this rather than not to be this? he replied: they are like the punning riddles which are asked at feasts or the children's puzzle about the eunuch aiming at the bat, with what he hit him, as they say in the puzzle, and upon what the bat was sitting. the individual objects of which i am speaking are also a riddle, and have a double sense: nor can you fix them in your mind, either as being or not-being, or both, or neither. then what will you do with them? i said. can they have a better place than between being and not-being? for they are clearly not in greater darkness or negation than not-being, or more full of light and existence than being. that is quite true, he said. thus then we seem to have discovered that the many ideas which the multitude entertain about the beautiful and about all other things are tossing about in some region which is halfway between pure being and pure not-being? we have. yes; and we had before agreed that anything of this kind which we might find was to be described as matter of opinion, and not as matter of knowledge; being the intermediate flux which is caught and detained by the intermediate faculty. quite true. then those who see the many beautiful, and who yet neither see absolute beauty, nor can follow any guide who points the way thither; who see the many just, and not absolute justice, and the like,--such persons may be said to have opinion but not knowledge? that is certain. but those who see the absolute and eternal and immutable may be said to know, and not to have opinion only? neither can that be denied. the one loves and embraces the subjects of knowledge, the other those of opinion? the latter are the same, as i dare say will remember, who listened to sweet sounds and gazed upon fair colours, but would not tolerate the existence of absolute beauty. yes, i remember. shall we then be guilty of any impropriety in calling them lovers of opinion rather than lovers of wisdom, and will they be very angry with us for thus describing them? i shall tell them not to be angry; no man should be angry at what is true. but those who love the truth in each thing are to be called lovers of wisdom and not lovers of opinion. assuredly. book vi socrates - glaucon and thus, glaucon, after the argument has gone a weary way, the true and the false philosophers have at length appeared in view. i do not think, he said, that the way could have been shortened. i suppose not, i said; and yet i believe that we might have had a better view of both of them if the discussion could have been confined to this one subject and if there were not many other questions awaiting us, which he who desires to see in what respect the life of the just differs from that of the unjust must consider. and what is the next question? he asked. surely, i said, the one which follows next in order. inasmuch as philosophers only are able to grasp the eternal and unchangeable, and those who wander in the region of the many and variable are not philosophers, i must ask you which of the two classes should be the rulers of our state? and how can we rightly answer that question? whichever of the two are best able to guard the laws and institutions of our state--let them be our guardians. very good. neither, i said, can there be any question that the guardian who is to keep anything should have eyes rather than no eyes? there can be no question of that. and are not those who are verily and indeed wanting in the knowledge of the true being of each thing, and who have in their souls no clear pattern, and are unable as with a painter's eye to look at the absolute truth and to that original to repair, and having perfect vision of the other world to order the laws about beauty, goodness, justice in this, if not already ordered, and to guard and preserve the order of them--are not such persons, i ask, simply blind? truly, he replied, they are much in that condition. and shall they be our guardians when there are others who, besides being their equals in experience and falling short of them in no particular of virtue, also know the very truth of each thing? there can be no reason, he said, for rejecting those who have this greatest of all great qualities; they must always have the first place unless they fail in some other respect. suppose then, i said, that we determine how far they can unite this and the other excellences. by all means. in the first place, as we began by observing, the nature of the philosopher has to be ascertained. we must come to an understanding about him, and, when we have done so, then, if i am not mistaken, we shall also acknowledge that such an union of qualities is possible, and that those in whom they are united, and those only, should be rulers in the state. what do you mean? let us suppose that philosophical minds always love knowledge of a sort which shows them the eternal nature not varying from generation and corruption. agreed. and further, i said, let us agree that they are lovers of all true being; there is no part whether greater or less, or more or less honourable, which they are willing to renounce; as we said before of the lover and the man of ambition. true. and if they are to be what we were describing, is there not another quality which they should also possess? what quality? truthfulness: they will never intentionally receive into their mind falsehood, which is their detestation, and they will love the truth. yes, that may be safely affirmed of them. 'may be,' my friend, i replied, is not the word; say rather 'must be affirmed:' for he whose nature is amorous of anything cannot help loving all that belongs or is akin to the object of his affections. right, he said. and is there anything more akin to wisdom than truth? how can there be? can the same nature be a lover of wisdom and a lover of falsehood? never. the true lover of learning then must from his earliest youth, as far as in him lies, desire all truth? assuredly. but then again, as we know by experience, he whose desires are strong in one direction will have them weaker in others; they will be like a stream which has been drawn off into another channel. true. he whose desires are drawn towards knowledge in every form will be absorbed in the pleasures of the soul, and will hardly feel bodily pleasure--i mean, if he be a true philosopher and not a sham one. that is most certain. such an one is sure to be temperate and the reverse of covetous; for the motives which make another man desirous of having and spending, have no place in his character. very true. another criterion of the philosophical nature has also to be considered. what is that? there should be no secret corner of illiberality; nothing can more antagonistic than meanness to a soul which is ever longing after the whole of things both divine and human. most true, he replied. then how can he who has magnificence of mind and is the spectator of all time and all existence, think much of human life? he cannot. or can such an one account death fearful? no indeed. then the cowardly and mean nature has no part in true philosophy? certainly not. or again: can he who is harmoniously constituted, who is not covetous or mean, or a boaster, or a coward-can he, i say, ever be unjust or hard in his dealings? impossible. then you will soon observe whether a man is just and gentle, or rude and unsociable; these are the signs which distinguish even in youth the philosophical nature from the unphilosophical. true. there is another point which should be remarked. what point? whether he has or has not a pleasure in learning; for no one will love that which gives him pain, and in which after much toil he makes little progress. certainly not. and again, if he is forgetful and retains nothing of what he learns, will he not be an empty vessel? that is certain. labouring in vain, he must end in hating himself and his fruitless occupation? yes. then a soul which forgets cannot be ranked among genuine philosophic natures; we must insist that the philosopher should have a good memory? certainly. and once more, the inharmonious and unseemly nature can only tend to disproportion? undoubtedly. and do you consider truth to be akin to proportion or to disproportion? to proportion. then, besides other qualities, we must try to find a naturally well-proportioned and gracious mind, which will move spontaneously towards the true being of everything. certainly. well, and do not all these qualities, which we have been enumerating, go together, and are they not, in a manner, necessary to a soul, which is to have a full and perfect participation of being? they are absolutely necessary, he replied. and must not that be a blameless study which he only can pursue who has the gift of a good memory, and is quick to learn,--noble, gracious, the friend of truth, justice, courage, temperance, who are his kindred? the god of jealousy himself, he said, could find no fault with such a study. and to men like him, i said, when perfected by years and education, and to these only you will entrust the state. socrates - adeimantus here adeimantus interposed and said: to these statements, socrates, no one can offer a reply; but when you talk in this way, a strange feeling passes over the minds of your hearers: they fancy that they are led astray a little at each step in the argument, owing to their own want of skill in asking and answering questions; these littles accumulate, and at the end of the discussion they are found to have sustained a mighty overthrow and all their former notions appear to be turned upside down. and as unskilful players of draughts are at last shut up by their more skilful adversaries and have no piece to move, so they too find themselves shut up at last; for they have nothing to say in this new game of which words are the counters; and yet all the time they are in the right. the observation is suggested to me by what is now occurring. for any one of us might say, that although in words he is not able to meet you at each step of the argument, he sees as a fact that the votaries of philosophy, when they carry on the study, not only in youth as a part of education, but as the pursuit of their maturer years, most of them become strange monsters, not to say utter rogues, and that those who may be considered the best of them are made useless to the world by the very study which you extol. well, and do you think that those who say so are wrong? i cannot tell, he replied; but i should like to know what is your opinion. hear my answer; i am of opinion that they are quite right. then how can you be justified in saying that cities will not cease from evil until philosophers rule in them, when philosophers are acknowledged by us to be of no use to them? you ask a question, i said, to which a reply can only be given in a parable. yes, socrates; and that is a way of speaking to which you are not at all accustomed, i suppose. i perceive, i said, that you are vastly amused at having plunged me into such a hopeless discussion; but now hear the parable, and then you will be still more amused at the meagreness of my imagination: for the manner in which the best men are treated in their own states is so grievous that no single thing on earth is comparable to it; and therefore, if i am to plead their cause, i must have recourse to fiction, and put together a figure made up of many things, like the fabulous unions of goats and stags which are found in pictures. imagine then a fleet or a ship in which there is a captain who is taller and stronger than any of the crew, but he is a little deaf and has a similar infirmity in sight, and his knowledge of navigation is not much better. the sailors are quarrelling with one another about the steering--every one is of opinion that he has a right to steer, though he has never learned the art of navigation and cannot tell who taught him or when he learned, and will further assert that it cannot be taught, and they are ready to cut in pieces any one who says the contrary. they throng about the captain, begging and praying him to commit the helm to them; and if at any time they do not prevail, but others are preferred to them, they kill the others or throw them overboard, and having first chained up the noble captain's senses with drink or some narcotic drug, they mutiny and take possession of the ship and make free with the stores; thus, eating and drinking, they proceed on their voyage in such a manner as might be expected of them. him who is their partisan and cleverly aids them in their plot for getting the ship out of the captain's hands into their own whether by force or persuasion, they compliment with the name of sailor, pilot, able seaman, and abuse the other sort of man, whom they call a good-for-nothing; but that the true pilot must pay attention to the year and seasons and sky and stars and winds, and whatever else belongs to his art, if he intends to be really qualified for the command of a ship, and that he must and will be the steerer, whether other people like or not-the possibility of this union of authority with the steerer's art has never seriously entered into their thoughts or been made part of their calling. now in vessels which are in a state of mutiny and by sailors who are mutineers, how will the true pilot be regarded? will he not be called by them a prater, a star-gazer, a good-for-nothing? of course, said adeimantus. then you will hardly need, i said, to hear the interpretation of the figure, which describes the true philosopher in his relation to the state; for you understand already. certainly. then suppose you now take this parable to the gentleman who is surprised at finding that philosophers have no honour in their cities; explain it to him and try to convince him that their having honour would be far more extraordinary. i will. say to him, that, in deeming the best votaries of philosophy to be useless to the rest of the world, he is right; but also tell him to attribute their uselessness to the fault of those who will not use them, and not to themselves. the pilot should not humbly beg the sailors to be commanded by him--that is not the order of nature; neither are 'the wise to go to the doors of the rich'--the ingenious author of this saying told a lie--but the truth is, that, when a man is ill, whether he be rich or poor, to the physician he must go, and he who wants to be governed, to him who is able to govern. the ruler who is good for anything ought not to beg his subjects to be ruled by him; although the present governors of mankind are of a different stamp; they may be justly compared to the mutinous sailors, and the true helmsmen to those who are called by them good-for-nothings and star-gazers. precisely so, he said. for these reasons, and among men like these, philosophy, the noblest pursuit of all, is not likely to be much esteemed by those of the opposite faction; not that the greatest and most lasting injury is done to her by her opponents, but by her own professing followers, the same of whom you suppose the accuser to say, that the greater number of them are arrant rogues, and the best are useless; in which opinion i agreed. yes. and the reason why the good are useless has now been explained? true. then shall we proceed to show that the corruption of the majority is also unavoidable, and that this is not to be laid to the charge of philosophy any more than the other? by all means. and let us ask and answer in turn, first going back to the description of the gentle and noble nature. truth, as you will remember, was his leader, whom he followed always and in all things; failing in this, he was an impostor, and had no part or lot in true philosophy. yes, that was said. well, and is not this one quality, to mention no others, greatly at variance with present notions of him? certainly, he said. and have we not a right to say in his defence, that the true lover of knowledge is always striving after being--that is his nature; he will not rest in the multiplicity of individuals which is an appearance only, but will go on--the keen edge will not be blunted, nor the force of his desire abate until he have attained the knowledge of the true nature of every essence by a sympathetic and kindred power in the soul, and by that power drawing near and mingling and becoming incorporate with very being, having begotten mind and truth, he will have knowledge and will live and grow truly, and then, and not till then, will he cease from his travail. nothing, he said, can be more just than such a description of him. and will the love of a lie be any part of a philosopher's nature? will he not utterly hate a lie? he will. and when truth is the captain, we cannot suspect any evil of the band which he leads? impossible. justice and health of mind will be of the company, and temperance will follow after? true, he replied. neither is there any reason why i should again set in array the philosopher's virtues, as you will doubtless remember that courage, magnificence, apprehension, memory, were his natural gifts. and you objected that, although no one could deny what i then said, still, if you leave words and look at facts, the persons who are thus described are some of them manifestly useless, and the greater number utterly depraved; we were then led to enquire into the grounds of these accusations, and have now arrived at the point of asking why are the majority bad, which question of necessity brought us back to the examination and definition of the true philosopher. exactly. and we have next to consider the corruptions of the philosophic nature, why so many are spoiled and so few escape spoiling--i am speaking of those who were said to be useless but not wicked--and, when we have done with them, we will speak of the imitators of philosophy, what manner of men are they who aspire after a profession which is above them and of which they are unworthy, and then, by their manifold inconsistencies, bring upon philosophy, and upon all philosophers, that universal reprobation of which we speak. what are these corruptions? he said. i will see if i can explain them to you. every one will admit that a nature having in perfection all the qualities which we required in a philosopher, is a rare plant which is seldom seen among men. rare indeed. and what numberless and powerful causes tend to destroy these rare natures! what causes? in the first place there are their own virtues, their courage, temperance, and the rest of them, every one of which praise worthy qualities (and this is a most singular circumstance) destroys and distracts from philosophy the soul which is the possessor of them. that is very singular, he replied. then there are all the ordinary goods of life--beauty, wealth, strength, rank, and great connections in the state--you understand the sort of things--these also have a corrupting and distracting effect. i understand; but i should like to know more precisely what you mean about them. grasp the truth as a whole, i said, and in the right way; you will then have no difficulty in apprehending the preceding remarks, and they will no longer appear strange to you. and how am i to do so? he asked. why, i said, we know that all germs or seeds, whether vegetable or animal, when they fail to meet with proper nutriment or climate or soil, in proportion to their vigour, are all the more sensitive to the want of a suitable environment, for evil is a greater enemy to what is good than what is not. very true. there is reason in supposing that the finest natures, when under alien conditions, receive more injury than the inferior, because the contrast is greater. certainly. and may we not say, adeimantus, that the most gifted minds, when they are ill-educated, become pre-eminently bad? do not great crimes and the spirit of pure evil spring out of a fulness of nature ruined by education rather than from any inferiority, whereas weak natures are scarcely capable of any very great good or very great evil? there i think that you are right. and our philosopher follows the same analogy-he is like a plant which, having proper nurture, must necessarily grow and mature into all virtue, but, if sown and planted in an alien soil, becomes the most noxious of all weeds, unless he be preserved by some divine power. do you really think, as people so often say, that our youth are corrupted by sophists, or that private teachers of the art corrupt them in any degree worth speaking of? are not the public who say these things the greatest of all sophists? and do they not educate to perfection young and old, men and women alike, and fashion them after their own hearts? when is this accomplished? he said. when they meet together, and the world sits down at an assembly, or in a court of law, or a theatre, or a camp, or in any other popular resort, and there is a great uproar, and they praise some things which are being said or done, and blame other things, equally exaggerating both, shouting and clapping their hands, and the echo of the rocks and the place in which they are assembled redoubles the sound of the praise or blame--at such a time will not a young man's heart, as they say, leap within him? will any private training enable him to stand firm against the overwhelming flood of popular opinion? or will he be carried away by the stream? will he not have the notions of good and evil which the public in general have--he will do as they do, and as they are, such will he be? yes, socrates; necessity will compel him. and yet, i said, there is a still greater necessity, which has not been mentioned. what is that? the gentle force of attainder or confiscation or death which, as you are aware, these new sophists and educators who are the public, apply when their words are powerless. indeed they do; and in right good earnest. now what opinion of any other sophist, or of any private person, can be expected to overcome in such an unequal contest? none, he replied. no, indeed, i said, even to make the attempt is a great piece of folly; there neither is, nor has been, nor is ever likely to be, any different type of character which has had no other training in virtue but that which is supplied by public opinion--i speak, my friend, of human virtue only; what is more than human, as the proverb says, is not included: for i would not have you ignorant that, in the present evil state of governments, whatever is saved and comes to good is saved by the power of god, as we may truly say. i quite assent, he replied. then let me crave your assent also to a further observation. what are you going to say? why, that all those mercenary individuals, whom the many call sophists and whom they deem to be their adversaries, do, in fact, teach nothing but the opinion of the many, that is to say, the opinions of their assemblies; and this is their wisdom. i might compare them to a man who should study the tempers and desires of a mighty strong beast who is fed by him-he would learn how to approach and handle him, also at what times and from what causes he is dangerous or the reverse, and what is the meaning of his several cries, and by what sounds, when another utters them, he is soothed or infuriated; and you may suppose further, that when, by continually attending upon him, he has become perfect in all this, he calls his knowledge wisdom, and makes of it a system or art, which he proceeds to teach, although he has no real notion of what he means by the principles or passions of which he is speaking, but calls this honourable and that dishonourable, or good or evil, or just or unjust, all in accordance with the tastes and tempers of the great brute. good he pronounces to be that in which the beast delights and evil to be that which he dislikes; and he can give no other account of them except that the just and noble are the necessary, having never himself seen, and having no power of explaining to others the nature of either, or the difference between them, which is immense. by heaven, would not such an one be a rare educator? indeed, he would. and in what way does he who thinks that wisdom is the discernment of the tempers and tastes of the motley multitude, whether in painting or music, or, finally, in politics, differ from him whom i have been describing? for when a man consorts with the many, and exhibits to them his poem or other work of art or the service which he has done the state, making them his judges when he is not obliged, the so-called necessity of diomede will oblige him to produce whatever they praise. and yet the reasons are utterly ludicrous which they give in confirmation of their own notions about the honourable and good. did you ever hear any of them which were not? no, nor am i likely to hear. you recognise the truth of what i have been saying? then let me ask you to consider further whether the world will ever be induced to believe in the existence of absolute beauty rather than of the many beautiful, or of the absolute in each kind rather than of the many in each kind? certainly not. then the world cannot possibly be a philosopher? impossible. and therefore philosophers must inevitably fall under the censure of the world? they must. and of individuals who consort with the mob and seek to please them? that is evident. then, do you see any way in which the philosopher can be preserved in his calling to the end? and remember what we were saying of him, that he was to have quickness and memory and courage and magnificence--these were admitted by us to be the true philosopher's gifts. yes. will not such an one from his early childhood be in all things first among all, especially if his bodily endowments are like his mental ones? certainly, he said. and his friends and fellow-citizens will want to use him as he gets older for their own purposes? no question. falling at his feet, they will make requests to him and do him honour and flatter him, because they want to get into their hands now, the power which he will one day possess. that often happens, he said. and what will a man such as he be likely to do under such circumstances, especially if he be a citizen of a great city, rich and noble, and a tall proper youth? will he not be full of boundless aspirations, and fancy himself able to manage the affairs of hellenes and of barbarians, and having got such notions into his head will he not dilate and elevate himself in the fulness of vain pomp and senseless pride? to be sure he will. now, when he is in this state of mind, if some one gently comes to him and tells him that he is a fool and must get understanding, which can only be got by slaving for it, do you think that, under such adverse circumstances, he will be easily induced to listen? far otherwise. and even if there be some one who through inherent goodness or natural reasonableness has had his eyes opened a little and is humbled and taken captive by philosophy, how will his friends behave when they think that they are likely to lose the advantage which they were hoping to reap from his companionship? will they not do and say anything to prevent him from yielding to his better nature and to render his teacher powerless, using to this end private intrigues as well as public prosecutions? there can be no doubt of it. and how can one who is thus circumstanced ever become a philosopher? impossible. then were we not right in saying that even the very qualities which make a man a philosopher may, if he be ill-educated, divert him from philosophy, no less than riches and their accompaniments and the other so-called goods of life? we were quite right. thus, my excellent friend, is brought about all that ruin and failure which i have been describing of the natures best adapted to the best of all pursuits; they are natures which we maintain to be rare at any time; this being the class out of which come the men who are the authors of the greatest evil to states and individuals; and also of the greatest good when the tide carries them in that direction; but a small man never was the doer of any great thing either to individuals or to states. that is most true, he said. and so philosophy is left desolate, with her marriage rite incomplete: for her own have fallen away and forsaken her, and while they are leading a false and unbecoming life, other unworthy persons, seeing that she has no kinsmen to be her protectors, enter in and dishonour her; and fasten upon her the reproaches which, as you say, her reprovers utter, who affirm of her votaries that some are good for nothing, and that the greater number deserve the severest punishment. that is certainly what people say. yes; and what else would you expect, i said, when you think of the puny creatures who, seeing this land open to them--a land well stocked with fair names and showy titles--like prisoners running out of prison into a sanctuary, take a leap out of their trades into philosophy; those who do so being probably the cleverest hands at their own miserable crafts? for, although philosophy be in this evil case, still there remains a dignity about her which is not to be found in the arts. and many are thus attracted by her whose natures are imperfect and whose souls are maimed and disfigured by their meannesses, as their bodies are by their trades and crafts. is not this unavoidable? yes. are they not exactly like a bald little tinker who has just got out of durance and come into a fortune; he takes a bath and puts on a new coat, and is decked out as a bridegroom going to marry his master's daughter, who is left poor and desolate? a most exact parallel. what will be the issue of such marriages? will they not be vile and bastard? there can be no question of it. and when persons who are unworthy of education approach philosophy and make an alliance with her who is a rank above them what sort of ideas and opinions are likely to be generated? will they not be sophisms captivating to the ear, having nothing in them genuine, or worthy of or akin to true wisdom? no doubt, he said. then, adeimantus, i said, the worthy disciples of philosophy will be but a small remnant: perchance some noble and well-educated person, detained by exile in her service, who in the absence of corrupting influences remains devoted to her; or some lofty soul born in a mean city, the politics of which he contemns and neglects; and there may be a gifted few who leave the arts, which they justly despise, and come to her;--or peradventure there are some who are restrained by our friend theages' bridle; for everything in the life of theages conspired to divert him from philosophy; but ill-health kept him away from politics. my own case of the internal sign is hardly worth mentioning, for rarely, if ever, has such a monitor been given to any other man. those who belong to this small class have tasted how sweet and blessed a possession philosophy is, and have also seen enough of the madness of the multitude; and they know that no politician is honest, nor is there any champion of justice at whose side they may fight and be saved. such an one may be compared to a man who has fallen among wild beasts--he will not join in the wickedness of his fellows, but neither is he able singly to resist all their fierce natures, and therefore seeing that he would be of no use to the state or to his friends, and reflecting that he would have to throw away his life without doing any good either to himself or others, he holds his peace, and goes his own way. he is like one who, in the storm of dust and sleet which the driving wind hurries along, retires under the shelter of a wall; and seeing the rest of mankind full of wickedness, he is content, if only he can live his own life and be pure from evil or unrighteousness, and depart in peace and good-will, with bright hopes. yes, he said, and he will have done a great work before he departs. a great work--yes; but not the greatest, unless he find a state suitable to him; for in a state which is suitable to him, he will have a larger growth and be the saviour of his country, as well as of himself. the causes why philosophy is in such an evil name have now been sufficiently explained: the injustice of the charges against her has been shown-is there anything more which you wish to say? nothing more on that subject, he replied; but i should like to know which of the governments now existing is in your opinion the one adapted to her. not any of them, i said; and that is precisely the accusation which i bring against them--not one of them is worthy of the philosophic nature, and hence that nature is warped and estranged;--as the exotic seed which is sown in a foreign land becomes denaturalized, and is wont to be overpowered and to lose itself in the new soil, even so this growth of philosophy, instead of persisting, degenerates and receives another character. but if philosophy ever finds in the state that perfection which she herself is, then will be seen that she is in truth divine, and that all other things, whether natures of men or institutions, are but human;--and now, i know that you are going to ask, what that state is. no, he said; there you are wrong, for i was going to ask another question--whether it is the state of which we are the founders and inventors, or some other? yes, i replied, ours in most respects; but you may remember my saying before, that some living authority would always be required in the state having the same idea of the constitution which guided you when as legislator you were laying down the laws. that was said, he replied. yes, but not in a satisfactory manner; you frightened us by interposing objections, which certainly showed that the discussion would be long and difficult; and what still remains is the reverse of easy. what is there remaining? the question how the study of philosophy may be so ordered as not to be the ruin of the state: all great attempts are attended with risk; 'hard is the good,' as men say. still, he said, let the point be cleared up, and the enquiry will then be complete. i shall not be hindered, i said, by any want of will, but, if at all, by a want of power: my zeal you may see for yourselves; and please to remark in what i am about to say how boldly and unhesitatingly i declare that states should pursue philosophy, not as they do now, but in a different spirit. in what manner? at present, i said, the students of philosophy are quite young; beginning when they are hardly past childhood, they devote only the time saved from moneymaking and housekeeping to such pursuits; and even those of them who are reputed to have most of the philosophic spirit, when they come within sight of the great difficulty of the subject, i mean dialectic, take themselves off. in after life when invited by some one else, they may, perhaps, go and hear a lecture, and about this they make much ado, for philosophy is not considered by them to be their proper business: at last, when they grow old, in most cases they are extinguished more truly than heracleitus' sun, inasmuch as they never light up again. but what ought to be their course? just the opposite. in childhood and youth their study, and what philosophy they learn, should be suited to their tender years: during this period while they are growing up towards manhood, the chief and special care should be given to their bodies that they may have them to use in the service of philosophy; as life advances and the intellect begins to mature, let them increase the gymnastics of the soul; but when the strength of our citizens fails and is past civil and military duties, then let them range at will and engage in no serious labour, as we intend them to live happily here, and to crown this life with a similar happiness in another. how truly in earnest you are, socrates! he said; i am sure of that; and yet most of your hearers, if i am not mistaken, are likely to be still more earnest in their opposition to you, and will never be convinced; thrasymachus least of all. do not make a quarrel, i said, between thrasymachus and me, who have recently become friends, although, indeed, we were never enemies; for i shall go on striving to the utmost until i either convert him and other men, or do something which may profit them against the day when they live again, and hold the like discourse in another state of existence. you are speaking of a time which is not very near. rather, i replied, of a time which is as nothing in comparison with eternity. nevertheless, i do not wonder that the many refuse to believe; for they have never seen that of which we are now speaking realised; they have seen only a conventional imitation of philosophy, consisting of words artificially brought together, not like these of ours having a natural unity. but a human being who in word and work is perfectly moulded, as far as he can be, into the proportion and likeness of virtue--such a man ruling in a city which bears the same image, they have never yet seen, neither one nor many of them--do you think that they ever did? no indeed. no, my friend, and they have seldom, if ever, heard free and noble sentiments; such as men utter when they are earnestly and by every means in their power seeking after truth for the sake of knowledge, while they look coldly on the subtleties of controversy, of which the end is opinion and strife, whether they meet with them in the courts of law or in society. they are strangers, he said, to the words of which you speak. and this was what we foresaw, and this was the reason why truth forced us to admit, not without fear and hesitation, that neither cities nor states nor individuals will ever attain perfection until the small class of philosophers whom we termed useless but not corrupt are providentially compelled, whether they will or not, to take care of the state, and until a like necessity be laid on the state to obey them; or until kings, or if not kings, the sons of kings or princes, are divinely inspired with a true love of true philosophy. that either or both of these alternatives are impossible, i see no reason to affirm: if they were so, we might indeed be justly ridiculed as dreamers and visionaries. am i not right? quite right. if then, in the countless ages of the past, or at the present hour in some foreign clime which is far away and beyond our ken, the perfected philosopher is or has been or hereafter shall be compelled by a superior power to have the charge of the state, we are ready to assert to the death, that this our constitution has been, and is--yea, and will be whenever the muse of philosophy is queen. there is no impossibility in all this; that there is a difficulty, we acknowledge ourselves. my opinion agrees with yours, he said. but do you mean to say that this is not the opinion of the multitude? i should imagine not, he replied. o my friend, i said, do not attack the multitude: they will change their minds, if, not in an aggressive spirit, but gently and with the view of soothing them and removing their dislike of over-education, you show them your philosophers as they really are and describe as you were just now doing their character and profession, and then mankind will see that he of whom you are speaking is not such as they supposed--if they view him in this new light, they will surely change their notion of him, and answer in another strain. who can be at enmity with one who loves them, who that is himself gentle and free from envy will be jealous of one in whom there is no jealousy? nay, let me answer for you, that in a few this harsh temper may be found but not in the majority of mankind. i quite agree with you, he said. and do you not also think, as i do, that the harsh feeling which the many entertain towards philosophy originates in the pretenders, who rush in uninvited, and are always abusing them, and finding fault with them, who make persons instead of things the theme of their conversation? and nothing can be more unbecoming in philosophers than this. it is most unbecoming. for he, adeimantus, whose mind is fixed upon true being, has surely no time to look down upon the affairs of earth, or to be filled with malice and envy, contending against men; his eye is ever directed towards things fixed and immutable, which he sees neither injuring nor injured by one another, but all in order moving according to reason; these he imitates, and to these he will, as far as he can, conform himself. can a man help imitating that with which he holds reverential converse? impossible. and the philosopher holding converse with the divine order, becomes orderly and divine, as far as the nature of man allows; but like every one else, he will suffer from detraction. of course. and if a necessity be laid upon him of fashioning, not only himself, but human nature generally, whether in states or individuals, into that which he beholds elsewhere, will he, think you, be an unskilful artificer of justice, temperance, and every civil virtue? anything but unskilful. and if the world perceives that what we are saying about him is the truth, will they be angry with philosophy? will they disbelieve us, when we tell them that no state can be happy which is not designed by artists who imitate the heavenly pattern? they will not be angry if they understand, he said. but how will they draw out the plan of which you are speaking? they will begin by taking the state and the manners of men, from which, as from a tablet, they will rub out the picture, and leave a clean surface. this is no easy task. but whether easy or not, herein will lie the difference between them and every other legislator,--they will have nothing to do either with individual or state, and will inscribe no laws, until they have either found, or themselves made, a clean surface. they will be very right, he said. having effected this, they will proceed to trace an outline of the constitution? no doubt. and when they are filling in the work, as i conceive, they will often turn their eyes upwards and downwards: i mean that they will first look at absolute justice and beauty and temperance, and again at the human copy; and will mingle and temper the various elements of life into the image of a man; and thus they will conceive according to that other image, which, when existing among men, homer calls the form and likeness of god. very true, he said. and one feature they will erase, and another they will put in, they have made the ways of men, as far as possible, agreeable to the ways of god? indeed, he said, in no way could they make a fairer picture. and now, i said, are we beginning to persuade those whom you described as rushing at us with might and main, that the painter of constitutions is such an one as we are praising; at whom they were so very indignant because to his hands we committed the state; and are they growing a little calmer at what they have just heard? much calmer, if there is any sense in them. why, where can they still find any ground for objection? will they doubt that the philosopher is a lover of truth and being? they would not be so unreasonable. or that his nature, being such as we have delineated, is akin to the highest good? neither can they doubt this. but again, will they tell us that such a nature, placed under favourable circumstances, will not be perfectly good and wise if any ever was? or will they prefer those whom we have rejected? surely not. then will they still be angry at our saying, that, until philosophers bear rule, states and individuals will have no rest from evil, nor will this our imaginary state ever be realised? i think that they will be less angry. shall we assume that they are not only less angry but quite gentle, and that they have been converted and for very shame, if for no other reason, cannot refuse to come to terms? by all means, he said. then let us suppose that the reconciliation has been effected. will any one deny the other point, that there may be sons of kings or princes who are by nature philosophers? surely no man, he said. and when they have come into being will any one say that they must of necessity be destroyed; that they can hardly be saved is not denied even by us; but that in the whole course of ages no single one of them can escape--who will venture to affirm this? who indeed! but, said i, one is enough; let there be one man who has a city obedient to his will, and he might bring into existence the ideal polity about which the world is so incredulous. yes, one is enough. the ruler may impose the laws and institutions which we have been describing, and the citizens may possibly be willing to obey them? certainly. and that others should approve of what we approve, is no miracle or impossibility? i think not. but we have sufficiently shown, in what has preceded, that all this, if only possible, is assuredly for the best. we have. and now we say not only that our laws, if they could be enacted, would be for the best, but also that the enactment of them, though difficult, is not impossible. very good. and so with pain and toil we have reached the end of one subject, but more remains to be discussed;--how and by what studies and pursuits will the saviours of the constitution be created, and at what ages are they to apply themselves to their several studies? certainly. i omitted the troublesome business of the possession of women, and the procreation of children, and the appointment of the rulers, because i knew that the perfect state would be eyed with jealousy and was difficult of attainment; but that piece of cleverness was not of much service to me, for i had to discuss them all the same. the women and children are now disposed of, but the other question of the rulers must be investigated from the very beginning. we were saying, as you will remember, that they were to be lovers of their country, tried by the test of pleasures and pains, and neither in hardships, nor in dangers, nor at any other critical moment were to lose their patriotism--he was to be rejected who failed, but he who always came forth pure, like gold tried in the refiner's fire, was to be made a ruler, and to receive honours and rewards in life and after death. this was the sort of thing which was being said, and then the argument turned aside and veiled her face; not liking to stir the question which has now arisen. i perfectly remember, he said. yes, my friend, i said, and i then shrank from hazarding the bold word; but now let me dare to say--that the perfect guardian must be a philosopher. yes, he said, let that be affirmed. and do not suppose that there will be many of them; for the gifts which were deemed by us to be essential rarely grow together; they are mostly found in shreds and patches. what do you mean? he said. you are aware, i replied, that quick intelligence, memory, sagacity, cleverness, and similar qualities, do not often grow together, and that persons who possess them and are at the same time high-spirited and magnanimous are not so constituted by nature as to live orderly and in a peaceful and settled manner; they are driven any way by their impulses, and all solid principle goes out of them. very true, he said. on the other hand, those steadfast natures which can better be depended upon, which in a battle are impregnable to fear and immovable, are equally immovable when there is anything to be learned; they are always in a torpid state, and are apt to yawn and go to sleep over any intellectual toil. quite true. and yet we were saying that both qualities were necessary in those to whom the higher education is to be imparted, and who are to share in any office or command. certainly, he said. and will they be a class which is rarely found? yes, indeed. then the aspirant must not only be tested in those labours and dangers and pleasures which we mentioned before, but there is another kind of probation which we did not mention--he must be exercised also in many kinds of knowledge, to see whether the soul will be able to endure the highest of all, will faint under them, as in any other studies and exercises. yes, he said, you are quite right in testing him. but what do you mean by the highest of all knowledge? you may remember, i said, that we divided the soul into three parts; and distinguished the several natures of justice, temperance, courage, and wisdom? indeed, he said, if i had forgotten, i should not deserve to hear more. and do you remember the word of caution which preceded the discussion of them? to what do you refer? we were saying, if i am not mistaken, that he who wanted to see them in their perfect beauty must take a longer and more circuitous way, at the end of which they would appear; but that we could add on a popular exposition of them on a level with the discussion which had preceded. and you replied that such an exposition would be enough for you, and so the enquiry was continued in what to me seemed to be a very inaccurate manner; whether you were satisfied or not, it is for you to say. yes, he said, i thought and the others thought that you gave us a fair measure of truth. but, my friend, i said, a measure of such things which in any degree falls short of the whole truth is not fair measure; for nothing imperfect is the measure of anything, although persons are too apt to be contented and think that they need search no further. not an uncommon case when people are indolent. yes, i said; and there cannot be any worse fault in a guardian of the state and of the laws. true. the guardian then, i said, must be required to take the longer circuit, and toll at learning as well as at gymnastics, or he will never reach the highest knowledge of all which, as we were just now saying, is his proper calling. what, he said, is there a knowledge still higher than this--higher than justice and the other virtues? yes, i said, there is. and of the virtues too we must behold not the outline merely, as at present--nothing short of the most finished picture should satisfy us. when little things are elaborated with an infinity of pains, in order that they may appear in their full beauty and utmost clearness, how ridiculous that we should not think the highest truths worthy of attaining the highest accuracy! a right noble thought; but do you suppose that we shall refrain from asking you what is this highest knowledge? nay, i said, ask if you will; but i am certain that you have heard the answer many times, and now you either do not understand me or, as i rather think, you are disposed to be troublesome; for you have of been told that the idea of good is the highest knowledge, and that all other things become useful and advantageous only by their use of this. you can hardly be ignorant that of this i was about to speak, concerning which, as you have often heard me say, we know so little; and, without which, any other knowledge or possession of any kind will profit us nothing. do you think that the possession of all other things is of any value if we do not possess the good? or the knowledge of all other things if we have no knowledge of beauty and goodness? assuredly not. you are further aware that most people affirm pleasure to be the good, but the finer sort of wits say it is knowledge yes. and you are aware too that the latter cannot explain what they mean by knowledge, but are obliged after all to say knowledge of the good? how ridiculous! yes, i said, that they should begin by reproaching us with our ignorance of the good, and then presume our knowledge of it--for the good they define to be knowledge of the good, just as if we understood them when they use the term 'good'--this is of course ridiculous. most true, he said. and those who make pleasure their good are in equal perplexity; for they are compelled to admit that there are bad pleasures as well as good. certainly. and therefore to acknowledge that bad and good are the same? true. there can be no doubt about the numerous difficulties in which this question is involved. there can be none. further, do we not see that many are willing to do or to have or to seem to be what is just and honourable without the reality; but no one is satisfied with the appearance of good--the reality is what they seek; in the case of the good, appearance is despised by every one. very true, he said. of this then, which every soul of man pursues and makes the end of all his actions, having a presentiment that there is such an end, and yet hesitating because neither knowing the nature nor having the same assurance of this as of other things, and therefore losing whatever good there is in other things,--of a principle such and so great as this ought the best men in our state, to whom everything is entrusted, to be in the darkness of ignorance? certainly not, he said. i am sure, i said, that he who does not know now the beautiful and the just are likewise good will be but a sorry guardian of them; and i suspect that no one who is ignorant of the good will have a true knowledge of them. that, he said, is a shrewd suspicion of yours. and if we only have a guardian who has this knowledge our state will be perfectly ordered? of course, he replied; but i wish that you would tell me whether you conceive this supreme principle of the good to be knowledge or pleasure, or different from either. aye, i said, i knew all along that a fastidious gentleman like you would not be contented with the thoughts of other people about these matters. true, socrates; but i must say that one who like you has passed a lifetime in the study of philosophy should not be always repeating the opinions of others, and never telling his own. well, but has any one a right to say positively what he does not know? not, he said, with the assurance of positive certainty; he has no right to do that: but he may say what he thinks, as a matter of opinion. and do you not know, i said, that all mere opinions are bad, and the best of them blind? you would not deny that those who have any true notion without intelligence are only like blind men who feel their way along the road? very true. and do you wish to behold what is blind and crooked and base, when others will tell you of brightness and beauty? glaucon - socrates still, i must implore you, socrates, said glaucon, not to turn away just as you are reaching the goal; if you will only give such an explanation of the good as you have already given of justice and temperance and the other virtues, we shall be satisfied. yes, my friend, and i shall be at least equally satisfied, but i cannot help fearing that i shall fall, and that my indiscreet zeal will bring ridicule upon me. no, sweet sirs, let us not at present ask what is the actual nature of the good, for to reach what is now in my thoughts would be an effort too great for me. but of the child of the good who is likest him, i would fain speak, if i could be sure that you wished to hear--otherwise, not. by all means, he said, tell us about the child, and you shall remain in our debt for the account of the parent. i do indeed wish, i replied, that i could pay, and you receive, the account of the parent, and not, as now, of the offspring only; take, however, this latter by way of interest, and at the same time have a care that i do not render a false account, although i have no intention of deceiving you. yes, we will take all the care that we can: proceed. yes, i said, but i must first come to an understanding with you, and remind you of what i have mentioned in the course of this discussion, and at many other times. what? the old story, that there is a many beautiful and a many good, and so of other things which we describe and define; to all of them 'many' is applied. true, he said. and there is an absolute beauty and an absolute good, and of other things to which the term 'many' is applied there is an absolute; for they may be brought under a single idea, which is called the essence of each. very true. the many, as we say, are seen but not known, and the ideas are known but not seen. exactly. and what is the organ with which we see the visible things? the sight, he said. and with the hearing, i said, we hear, and with the other senses perceive the other objects of sense? true. but have you remarked that sight is by far the most costly and complex piece of workmanship which the artificer of the senses ever contrived? no, i never have, he said. then reflect; has the ear or voice need of any third or additional nature in order that the one may be able to hear and the other to be heard? nothing of the sort. no, indeed, i replied; and the same is true of most, if not all, the other senses--you would not say that any of them requires such an addition? certainly not. but you see that without the addition of some other nature there is no seeing or being seen? how do you mean? sight being, as i conceive, in the eyes, and he who has eyes wanting to see; colour being also present in them, still unless there be a third nature specially adapted to the purpose, the owner of the eyes will see nothing and the colours will be invisible. of what nature are you speaking? of that which you term light, i replied. true, he said. noble, then, is the bond which links together sight and visibility, and great beyond other bonds by no small difference of nature; for light is their bond, and light is no ignoble thing? nay, he said, the reverse of ignoble. and which, i said, of the gods in heaven would you say was the lord of this element? whose is that light which makes the eye to see perfectly and the visible to appear? you mean the sun, as you and all mankind say. may not the relation of sight to this deity be described as follows? how? neither sight nor the eye in which sight resides is the sun? no. yet of all the organs of sense the eye is the most like the sun? by far the most like. and the power which the eye possesses is a sort of effluence which is dispensed from the sun? exactly. then the sun is not sight, but the author of sight who is recognised by sight. true, he said. and this is he whom i call the child of the good, whom the good begat in his own likeness, to be in the visible world, in relation to sight and the things of sight, what the good is in the intellectual world in relation to mind and the things of mind. will you be a little more explicit? he said. why, you know, i said, that the eyes, when a person directs them towards objects on which the light of day is no longer shining, but the moon and stars only, see dimly, and are nearly blind; they seem to have no clearness of vision in them? very true. but when they are directed towards objects on which the sun shines, they see clearly and there is sight in them? certainly. and the soul is like the eye: when resting upon that on which truth and being shine, the soul perceives and understands and is radiant with intelligence; but when turned towards the twilight of becoming and perishing, then she has opinion only, and goes blinking about, and is first of one opinion and then of another, and seems to have no intelligence? just so. now, that which imparts truth to the known and the power of knowing to the knower is what i would have you term the idea of good, and this you will deem to be the cause of science, and of truth in so far as the latter becomes the subject of knowledge; beautiful too, as are both truth and knowledge, you will be right in esteeming this other nature as more beautiful than either; and, as in the previous instance, light and sight may be truly said to be like the sun, and yet not to be the sun, so in this other sphere, science and truth may be deemed to be like the good, but not the good; the good has a place of honour yet higher. what a wonder of beauty that must be, he said, which is the author of science and truth, and yet surpasses them in beauty; for you surely cannot mean to say that pleasure is the good? god forbid, i replied; but may i ask you to consider the image in another point of view? in what point of view? you would say, would you not, that the sun is only the author of visibility in all visible things, but of generation and nourishment and growth, though he himself is not generation? certainly. in like manner the good may be said to be not only the author of knowledge to all things known, but of their being and essence, and yet the good is not essence, but far exceeds essence in dignity and power. glaucon said, with a ludicrous earnestness: by the light of heaven, how amazing! yes, i said, and the exaggeration may be set down to you; for you made me utter my fancies. and pray continue to utter them; at any rate let us hear if there is anything more to be said about the similitude of the sun. yes, i said, there is a great deal more. then omit nothing, however slight. i will do my best, i said; but i should think that a great deal will have to be omitted. you have to imagine, then, that there are two ruling powers, and that one of them is set over the intellectual world, the other over the visible. i do not say heaven, lest you should fancy that i am playing upon the name ('ourhanoz, orhatoz'). may i suppose that you have this distinction of the visible and intelligible fixed in your mind? i have. now take a line which has been cut into two unequal parts, and divide each of them again in the same proportion, and suppose the two main divisions to answer, one to the visible and the other to the intelligible, and then compare the subdivisions in respect of their clearness and want of clearness, and you will find that the first section in the sphere of the visible consists of images. and by images i mean, in the first place, shadows, and in the second place, reflections in water and in solid, smooth and polished bodies and the like: do you understand? yes, i understand. imagine, now, the other section, of which this is only the resemblance, to include the animals which we see, and everything that grows or is made. very good. would you not admit that both the sections of this division have different degrees of truth, and that the copy is to the original as the sphere of opinion is to the sphere of knowledge? most undoubtedly. next proceed to consider the manner in which the sphere of the intellectual is to be divided. in what manner? thus:--there are two subdivisions, in the lower or which the soul uses the figures given by the former division as images; the enquiry can only be hypothetical, and instead of going upwards to a principle descends to the other end; in the higher of the two, the soul passes out of hypotheses, and goes up to a principle which is above hypotheses, making no use of images as in the former case, but proceeding only in and through the ideas themselves. i do not quite understand your meaning, he said. then i will try again; you will understand me better when i have made some preliminary remarks. you are aware that students of geometry, arithmetic, and the kindred sciences assume the odd and the even and the figures and three kinds of angles and the like in their several branches of science; these are their hypotheses, which they and everybody are supposed to know, and therefore they do not deign to give any account of them either to themselves or others; but they begin with them, and go on until they arrive at last, and in a consistent manner, at their conclusion? yes, he said, i know. and do you not know also that although they make use of the visible forms and reason about them, they are thinking not of these, but of the ideals which they resemble; not of the figures which they draw, but of the absolute square and the absolute diameter, and so on--the forms which they draw or make, and which have shadows and reflections in water of their own, are converted by them into images, but they are really seeking to behold the things themselves, which can only be seen with the eye of the mind? that is true. and of this kind i spoke as the intelligible, although in the search after it the soul is compelled to use hypotheses; not ascending to a first principle, because she is unable to rise above the region of hypothesis, but employing the objects of which the shadows below are resemblances in their turn as images, they having in relation to the shadows and reflections of them a greater distinctness, and therefore a higher value. i understand, he said, that you are speaking of the province of geometry and the sister arts. and when i speak of the other division of the intelligible, you will understand me to speak of that other sort of knowledge which reason herself attains by the power of dialectic, using the hypotheses not as first principles, but only as hypotheses--that is to say, as steps and points of departure into a world which is above hypotheses, in order that she may soar beyond them to the first principle of the whole; and clinging to this and then to that which depends on this, by successive steps she descends again without the aid of any sensible object, from ideas, through ideas, and in ideas she ends. i understand you, he replied; not perfectly, for you seem to me to be describing a task which is really tremendous; but, at any rate, i understand you to say that knowledge and being, which the science of dialectic contemplates, are clearer than the notions of the arts, as they are termed, which proceed from hypotheses only: these are also contemplated by the understanding, and not by the senses: yet, because they start from hypotheses and do not ascend to a principle, those who contemplate them appear to you not to exercise the higher reason upon them, although when a first principle is added to them they are cognizable by the higher reason. and the habit which is concerned with geometry and the cognate sciences i suppose that you would term understanding and not reason, as being intermediate between opinion and reason. you have quite conceived my meaning, i said; and now, corresponding to these four divisions, let there be four faculties in the soul-reason answering to the highest, understanding to the second, faith (or conviction) to the third, and perception of shadows to the last-and let there be a scale of them, and let us suppose that the several faculties have clearness in the same degree that their objects have truth. i understand, he replied, and give my assent, and accept your arrangement. book vii socrates - glaucon and now, i said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened:--behold! human beings living in a underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets. i see. and do you see, i said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall? some of them are talking, others silent. you have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners. like ourselves, i replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave? true, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads? and of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only see the shadows? yes, he said. and if they were able to converse with one another, would they not suppose that they were naming what was actually before them? very true. and suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the other side, would they not be sure to fancy when one of the passers-by spoke that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadow? no question, he replied. to them, i said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the images. that is certain. and now look again, and see what will naturally follow it' the prisoners are released and disabused of their error. at first, when any of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him, and he will be unable to see the realities of which in his former state he had seen the shadows; and then conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but that now, when he is approaching nearer to being and his eye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer vision, what will be his reply? and you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and requiring him to name them,--will he not be perplexed? will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now shown to him? far truer. and if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take and take in the objects of vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be in reality clearer than the things which are now being shown to him? true, he now and suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and rugged ascent, and held fast until he's forced into the presence of the sun himself, is he not likely to be pained and irritated? when he approaches the light his eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be able to see anything at all of what are now called realities. not all in a moment, he said. he will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper world. and first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and other objects in the water, and then the objects themselves; then he will gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven; and he will see the sky and the stars by night better than the sun or the light of the sun by day? certainly. last of he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is. certainly. he will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives the season and the years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visible world, and in a certain way the cause of all things which he and his fellows have been accustomed to behold? clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then reason about him. and when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them? certainly, he would. and if they were in the habit of conferring honours among themselves on those who were quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark which of them went before, and which followed after, and which were together; and who were therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future, do you think that he would care for such honours and glories, or envy the possessors of them? would he not say with homer, better to be the poor servant of a poor master, and to endure anything, rather than think as they do and live after their manner? yes, he said, i think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner. imagine once more, i said, such an one coming suddenly out of the sun to be replaced in his old situation; would he not be certain to have his eyes full of darkness? to be sure, he said. and if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measuring the shadows with the prisoners who had never moved out of the den, while his sight was still weak, and before his eyes had become steady (and the time which would be needed to acquire this new habit of sight might be very considerable) would he not be ridiculous? men would say of him that up he went and down he came without his eyes; and that it was better not even to think of ascending; and if any one tried to loose another and lead him up to the light, let them only catch the offender, and they would put him to death. no question, he said. this entire allegory, i said, you may now append, dear glaucon, to the previous argument; the prison-house is the world of sight, the light of the fire is the sun, and you will not misapprehend me if you interpret the journey upwards to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world according to my poor belief, which, at your desire, i have expressed whether rightly or wrongly god knows. but, whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth in the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would act rationally, either in public or private life must have his eye fixed. i agree, he said, as far as i am able to understand you. moreover, i said, you must not wonder that those who attain to this beatific vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; for their souls are ever hastening into the upper world where they desire to dwell; which desire of theirs is very natural, if our allegory may be trusted. yes, very natural. and is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine contemplations to the evil state of man, misbehaving himself in a ridiculous manner; if, while his eyes are blinking and before he has become accustomed to the surrounding darkness, he is compelled to fight in courts of law, or in other places, about the images or the shadows of images of justice, and is endeavouring to meet the conceptions of those who have never yet seen absolute justice? anything but surprising, he replied. any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter light, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. and he will count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from above out of the light into the den. that, he said, is a very just distinction. but then, if i am right, certain professors of education must be wrong when they say that they can put a knowledge into the soul which was not there before, like sight into blind eyes. they undoubtedly say this, he replied. whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of learning exists in the soul already; and that just as the eye was unable to turn from darkness to light without the whole body, so too the instrument of knowledge can only by the movement of the whole soul be turned from the world of becoming into that of being, and learn by degrees to endure the sight of being, and of the brightest and best of being, or in other words, of the good. very true. and must there not be some art which will effect conversion in the easiest and quickest manner; not implanting the faculty of sight, for that exists already, but has been turned in the wrong direction, and is looking away from the truth? yes, he said, such an art may be presumed. and whereas the other so-called virtues of the soul seem to be akin to bodily qualities, for even when they are not originally innate they can be implanted later by habit and exercise, the of wisdom more than anything else contains a divine element which always remains, and by this conversion is rendered useful and profitable; or, on the other hand, hurtful and useless. did you never observe the narrow intelligence flashing from the keen eye of a clever rogue--how eager he is, how clearly his paltry soul sees the way to his end; he is the reverse of blind, but his keen eyesight is forced into the service of evil, and he is mischievous in proportion to his cleverness. very true, he said. but what if there had been a circumcision of such natures in the days of their youth; and they had been severed from those sensual pleasures, such as eating and drinking, which, like leaden weights, were attached to them at their birth, and which drag them down and turn the vision of their souls upon the things that are below--if, i say, they had been released from these impediments and turned in the opposite direction, the very same faculty in them would have seen the truth as keenly as they see what their eyes are turned to now. very likely. yes, i said; and there is another thing which is likely, or rather a necessary inference from what has preceded, that neither the uneducated and uninformed of the truth, nor yet those who never make an end of their education, will be able ministers of state; not the former, because they have no single aim of duty which is the rule of all their actions, private as well as public; nor the latter, because they will not act at all except upon compulsion, fancying that they are already dwelling apart in the islands of the blest. very true, he replied. then, i said, the business of us who are the founders of the state will be to compel the best minds to attain that knowledge which we have already shown to be the greatest of all-they must continue to ascend until they arrive at the good; but when they have ascended and seen enough we must not allow them to do as they do now. what do you mean? i mean that they remain in the upper world: but this must not be allowed; they must be made to descend again among the prisoners in the den, and partake of their labours and honours, whether they are worth having or not. but is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give them a worse life, when they might have a better? you have again forgotten, my friend, i said, the intention of the legislator, who did not aim at making any one class in the state happy above the rest; the happiness was to be in the whole state, and he held the citizens together by persuasion and necessity, making them benefactors of the state, and therefore benefactors of one another; to this end he created them, not to please themselves, but to be his instruments in binding up the state. true, he said, i had forgotten. observe, glaucon, that there will be no injustice in compelling our philosophers to have a care and providence of others; we shall explain to them that in other states, men of their class are not obliged to share in the toils of politics: and this is reasonable, for they grow up at their own sweet will, and the government would rather not have them. being self-taught, they cannot be expected to show any gratitude for a culture which they have never received. but we have brought you into the world to be rulers of the hive, kings of yourselves and of the other citizens, and have educated you far better and more perfectly than they have been educated, and you are better able to share in the double duty. wherefore each of you, when his turn comes, must go down to the general underground abode, and get the habit of seeing in the dark. when you have acquired the habit, you will see ten thousand times better than the inhabitants of the den, and you will know what the several images are, and what they represent, because you have seen the beautiful and just and good in their truth. and thus our state which is also yours will be a reality, and not a dream only, and will be administered in a spirit unlike that of other states, in which men fight with one another about shadows only and are distracted in the struggle for power, which in their eyes is a great good. whereas the truth is that the state in which the rulers are most reluctant to govern is always the best and most quietly governed, and the state in which they are most eager, the worst. quite true, he replied. and will our pupils, when they hear this, refuse to take their turn at the toils of state, when they are allowed to spend the greater part of their time with one another in the heavenly light? impossible, he answered; for they are just men, and the commands which we impose upon them are just; there can be no doubt that every one of them will take office as a stern necessity, and not after the fashion of our present rulers of state. yes, my friend, i said; and there lies the point. you must contrive for your future rulers another and a better life than that of a ruler, and then you may have a well-ordered state; for only in the state which offers this, will they rule who are truly rich, not in silver and gold, but in virtue and wisdom, which are the true blessings of life. whereas if they go to the administration of public affairs, poor and hungering after the' own private advantage, thinking that hence they are to snatch the chief good, order there can never be; for they will be fighting about office, and the civil and domestic broils which thus arise will be the ruin of the rulers themselves and of the whole state. most true, he replied. and the only life which looks down upon the life of political ambition is that of true philosophy. do you know of any other? indeed, i do not, he said. and those who govern ought not to be lovers of the task? for, if they are, there will be rival lovers, and they will fight. no question. who then are those whom we shall compel to be guardians? surely they will be the men who are wisest about affairs of state, and by whom the state is best administered, and who at the same time have other honours and another and a better life than that of politics? they are the men, and i will choose them, he replied. and now shall we consider in what way such guardians will be produced, and how they are to be brought from darkness to light,--as some are said to have ascended from the world below to the gods? by all means, he replied. the process, i said, is not the turning over of an oyster-shell, but the turning round of a soul passing from a day which is little better than night to the true day of being, that is, the ascent from below, which we affirm to be true philosophy? quite so. and should we not enquire what sort of knowledge has the power of effecting such a change? certainly. what sort of knowledge is there which would draw the soul from becoming to being? and another consideration has just occurred to me: you will remember that our young men are to be warrior athletes yes, that was said. then this new kind of knowledge must have an additional quality? what quality? usefulness in war. yes, if possible. there were two parts in our former scheme of education, were there not? just so. there was gymnastic which presided over the growth and decay of the body, and may therefore be regarded as having to do with generation and corruption? true. then that is not the knowledge which we are seeking to discover? no. but what do you say of music, which also entered to a certain extent into our former scheme? music, he said, as you will remember, was the counterpart of gymnastic, and trained the guardians by the influences of habit, by harmony making them harmonious, by rhythm rhythmical, but not giving them science; and the words, whether fabulous or possibly true, had kindred elements of rhythm and harmony in them. but in music there was nothing which tended to that good which you are now seeking. you are most accurate, i said, in your recollection; in music there certainly was nothing of the kind. but what branch of knowledge is there, my dear glaucon, which is of the desired nature; since all the useful arts were reckoned mean by us? undoubtedly; and yet if music and gymnastic are excluded, and the arts are also excluded, what remains? well, i said, there may be nothing left of our special subjects; and then we shall have to take something which is not special, but of universal application. what may that be? a something which all arts and sciences and intelligences use in common, and which every one first has to learn among the elements of education. what is that? the little matter of distinguishing one, two, and three--in a word, number and calculation:--do not all arts and sciences necessarily partake of them? yes. then the art of war partakes of them? to the sure. then palamedes, whenever he appears in tragedy, proves agamemnon ridiculously unfit to be a general. did you never remark how he declares that he had invented number, and had numbered the ships and set in array the ranks of the army at troy; which implies that they had never been numbered before, and agamemnon must be supposed literally to have been incapable of counting his own feet--how could he if he was ignorant of number? and if that is true, what sort of general must he have been? i should say a very strange one, if this was as you say. can we deny that a warrior should have a knowledge of arithmetic? certainly he should, if he is to have the smallest understanding of military tactics, or indeed, i should rather say, if he is to be a man at all. i should like to know whether you have the same notion which i have of this study? what is your notion? it appears to me to be a study of the kind which we are seeking, and which leads naturally to reflection, but never to have been rightly used; for the true use of it is simply to draw the soul towards being. will you explain your meaning? he said. i will try, i said; and i wish you would share the enquiry with me, and say 'yes' or 'no' when i attempt to distinguish in my own mind what branches of knowledge have this attracting power, in order that we may have clearer proof that arithmetic is, as i suspect, one of them. explain, he said. i mean to say that objects of sense are of two kinds; some of them do not invite thought because the sense is an adequate judge of them; while in the case of other objects sense is so untrustworthy that further enquiry is imperatively demanded. you are clearly referring, he said, to the manner in which the senses are imposed upon by distance, and by painting in light and shade. no, i said, that is not at all my meaning. then what is your meaning? when speaking of uninviting objects, i mean those which do not pass from one sensation to the opposite; inviting objects are those which do; in this latter case the sense coming upon the object, whether at a distance or near, gives no more vivid idea of anything in particular than of its opposite. an illustration will make my meaning clearer:--here are three fingers--a little finger, a second finger, and a middle finger. very good. you may suppose that they are seen quite close: and here comes the point. what is it? each of them equally appears a finger, whether seen in the middle or at the extremity, whether white or black, or thick or thin--it makes no difference; a finger is a finger all the same. in these cases a man is not compelled to ask of thought the question, what is a finger? for the sight never intimates to the mind that a finger is other than a finger. true. and therefore, i said, as we might expect, there is nothing here which invites or excites intelligence. there is not, he said. but is this equally true of the greatness and smallness of the fingers? can sight adequately perceive them? and is no difference made by the circumstance that one of the fingers is in the middle and another at the extremity? and in like manner does the touch adequately perceive the qualities of thickness or thinness, or softness or hardness? and so of the other senses; do they give perfect intimations of such matters? is not their mode of operation on this wise--the sense which is concerned with the quality of hardness is necessarily concerned also with the quality of softness, and only intimates to the soul that the same thing is felt to be both hard and soft? you are quite right, he said. and must not the soul be perplexed at this intimation which the sense gives of a hard which is also soft? what, again, is the meaning of light and heavy, if that which is light is also heavy, and that which is heavy, light? yes, he said, these intimations which the soul receives are very curious and require to be explained. yes, i said, and in these perplexities the soul naturally summons to her aid calculation and intelligence, that she may see whether the several objects announced to her are one or two. true. and if they turn out to be two, is not each of them one and different? certainly. and if each is one, and both are two, she will conceive the two as in a state of division, for if there were undivided they could only be conceived of as one? true. the eye certainly did see both small and great, but only in a confused manner; they were not distinguished. yes. whereas the thinking mind, intending to light up the chaos, was compelled to reverse the process, and look at small and great as separate and not confused. very true. was not this the beginning of the enquiry 'what is great?' and 'what is small?' exactly so. and thus arose the distinction of the visible and the intelligible. most true. this was what i meant when i spoke of impressions which invited the intellect, or the reverse--those which are simultaneous with opposite impressions, invite thought; those which are not simultaneous do not. i understand, he said, and agree with you. and to which class do unity and number belong? i do not know, he replied. think a little and you will see that what has preceded will supply the answer; for if simple unity could be adequately perceived by the sight or by any other sense, then, as we were saying in the case of the finger, there would be nothing to attract towards being; but when there is some contradiction always present, and one is the reverse of one and involves the conception of plurality, then thought begins to be aroused within us, and the soul perplexed and wanting to arrive at a decision asks 'what is absolute unity?' this is the way in which the study of the one has a power of drawing and converting the mind to the contemplation of true being. and surely, he said, this occurs notably in the case of one; for we see the same thing to be both one and infinite in multitude? yes, i said; and this being true of one must be equally true of all number? certainly. and all arithmetic and calculation have to do with number? yes. and they appear to lead the mind towards truth? yes, in a very remarkable manner. then this is knowledge of the kind for which we are seeking, having a double use, military and philosophical; for the man of war must learn the art of number or he will not know how to array his troops, and the philosopher also, because he has to rise out of the sea of change and lay hold of true being, and therefore he must be an arithmetician. that is true. and our guardian is both warrior and philosopher? certainly. then this is a kind of knowledge which legislation may fitly prescribe; and we must endeavour to persuade those who are prescribe to be the principal men of our state to go and learn arithmetic, not as amateurs, but they must carry on the study until they see the nature of numbers with the mind only; nor again, like merchants or retail-traders, with a view to buying or selling, but for the sake of their military use, and of the soul herself; and because this will be the easiest way for her to pass from becoming to truth and being. that is excellent, he said. yes, i said, and now having spoken of it, i must add how charming the science is! and in how many ways it conduces to our desired end, if pursued in the spirit of a philosopher, and not of a shopkeeper! how do you mean? i mean, as i was saying, that arithmetic has a very great and elevating effect, compelling the soul to reason about abstract number, and rebelling against the introduction of visible or tangible objects into the argument. you know how steadily the masters of the art repel and ridicule any one who attempts to divide absolute unity when he is calculating, and if you divide, they multiply, taking care that one shall continue one and not become lost in fractions. that is very true. now, suppose a person were to say to them: o my friends, what are these wonderful numbers about which you are reasoning, in which, as you say, there is a unity such as you demand, and each unit is equal, invariable, indivisible,--what would they answer? they would answer, as i should conceive, that they were speaking of those numbers which can only be realised in thought. then you see that this knowledge may be truly called necessary, necessitating as it clearly does the use of the pure intelligence in the attainment of pure truth? yes; that is a marked characteristic of it. and have you further observed, that those who have a natural talent for calculation are generally quick at every other kind of knowledge; and even the dull if they have had an arithmetical training, although they may derive no other advantage from it, always become much quicker than they would otherwise have been. very true, he said. and indeed, you will not easily find a more difficult study, and not many as difficult. you will not. and, for all these reasons, arithmetic is a kind of knowledge in which the best natures should be trained, and which must not be given up. i agree. let this then be made one of our subjects of education. and next, shall we enquire whether the kindred science also concerns us? you mean geometry? exactly so. clearly, he said, we are concerned with that part of geometry which relates to war; for in pitching a camp, or taking up a position, or closing or extending the lines of an army, or any other military manoeuvre, whether in actual battle or on a march, it will make all the difference whether a general is or is not a geometrician. yes, i said, but for that purpose a very little of either geometry or calculation will be enough; the question relates rather to the greater and more advanced part of geometry--whether that tends in any degree to make more easy the vision of the idea of good; and thither, as i was saying, all things tend which compel the soul to turn her gaze towards that place, where is the full perfection of being, which she ought, by all means, to behold. true, he said. then if geometry compels us to view being, it concerns us; if becoming only, it does not concern us? yes, that is what we assert. yet anybody who has the least acquaintance with geometry will not deny that such a conception of the science is in flat contradiction to the ordinary language of geometricians. how so? they have in view practice only, and are always speaking? in a narrow and ridiculous manner, of squaring and extending and applying and the like--they confuse the necessities of geometry with those of daily life; whereas knowledge is the real object of the whole science. certainly, he said. then must not a further admission be made? what admission? that the knowledge at which geometry aims is knowledge of the eternal, and not of aught perishing and transient. that, he replied, may be readily allowed, and is true. then, my noble friend, geometry will draw the soul towards truth, and create the spirit of philosophy, and raise up that which is now unhappily allowed to fall down. nothing will be more likely to have such an effect. then nothing should be more sternly laid down than that the inhabitants of your fair city should by all means learn geometry. moreover the science has indirect effects, which are not small. of what kind? he said. there are the military advantages of which you spoke, i said; and in all departments of knowledge, as experience proves, any one who has studied geometry is infinitely quicker of apprehension than one who has not. yes indeed, he said, there is an infinite difference between them. then shall we propose this as a second branch of knowledge which our youth will study? let us do so, he replied. and suppose we make astronomy the third--what do you say? i am strongly inclined to it, he said; the observation of the seasons and of months and years is as essential to the general as it is to the farmer or sailor. i am amused, i said, at your fear of the world, which makes you guard against the appearance of insisting upon useless studies; and i quite admit the difficulty of believing that in every man there is an eye of the soul which, when by other pursuits lost and dimmed, is by these purified and re-illumined; and is more precious far than ten thousand bodily eyes, for by it alone is truth seen. now there are two classes of persons: one class of those who will agree with you and will take your words as a revelation; another class to whom they will be utterly unmeaning, and who will naturally deem them to be idle tales, for they see no sort of profit which is to be obtained from them. and therefore you had better decide at once with which of the two you are proposing to argue. you will very likely say with neither, and that your chief aim in carrying on the argument is your own improvement; at the same time you do not grudge to others any benefit which they may receive. i think that i should prefer to carry on the argument mainly on my own behalf. then take a step backward, for we have gone wrong in the order of the sciences. what was the mistake? he said. after plane geometry, i said, we proceeded at once to solids in revolution, instead of taking solids in themselves; whereas after the second dimension the third, which is concerned with cubes and dimensions of depth, ought to have followed. that is true, socrates; but so little seems to be known as yet about these subjects. why, yes, i said, and for two reasons:--in the first place, no government patronises them; this leads to a want of energy in the pursuit of them, and they are difficult; in the second place, students cannot learn them unless they have a director. but then a director can hardly be found, and even if he could, as matters now stand, the students, who are very conceited, would not attend to him. that, however, would be otherwise if the whole state became the director of these studies and gave honour to them; then disciples would want to come, and there would be continuous and earnest search, and discoveries would be made; since even now, disregarded as they are by the world, and maimed of their fair proportions, and although none of their votaries can tell the use of them, still these studies force their way by their natural charm, and very likely, if they had the help of the state, they would some day emerge into light. yes, he said, there is a remarkable charm in them. but i do not clearly understand the change in the order. first you began with a geometry of plane surfaces? yes, i said. and you placed astronomy next, and then you made a step backward? yes, and i have delayed you by my hurry; the ludicrous state of solid geometry, which, in natural order, should have followed, made me pass over this branch and go on to astronomy, or motion of solids. true, he said. then assuming that the science now omitted would come into existence if encouraged by the state, let us go on to astronomy, which will be fourth. the right order, he replied. and now, socrates, as you rebuked the vulgar manner in which i praised astronomy before, my praise shall be given in your own spirit. for every one, as i think, must see that astronomy compels the soul to look upwards and leads us from this world to another. every one but myself, i said; to every one else this may be clear, but not to me. and what then would you say? i should rather say that those who elevate astronomy into philosophy appear to me to make us look downwards and not upwards. what do you mean? he asked. you, i replied, have in your mind a truly sublime conception of our knowledge of the things above. and i dare say that if a person were to throw his head back and study the fretted ceiling, you would still think that his mind was the percipient, and not his eyes. and you are very likely right, and i may be a simpleton: but, in my opinion, that knowledge only which is of being and of the unseen can make the soul look upwards, and whether a man gapes at the heavens or blinks on the ground, seeking to learn some particular of sense, i would deny that he can learn, for nothing of that sort is matter of science; his soul is looking downwards, not upwards, whether his way to knowledge is by water or by land, whether he floats, or only lies on his back. i acknowledge, he said, the justice of your rebuke. still, i should like to ascertain how astronomy can be learned in any manner more conducive to that knowledge of which we are speaking? i will tell you, i said: the starry heaven which we behold is wrought upon a visible ground, and therefore, although the fairest and most perfect of visible things, must necessarily be deemed inferior far to the true motions of absolute swiftness and absolute slowness, which are relative to each other, and carry with them that which is contained in them, in the true number and in every true figure. now, these are to be apprehended by reason and intelligence, but not by sight. true, he replied. the spangled heavens should be used as a pattern and with a view to that higher knowledge; their beauty is like the beauty of figures or pictures excellently wrought by the hand of daedalus, or some other great artist, which we may chance to behold; any geometrician who saw them would appreciate the exquisiteness of their workmanship, but he would never dream of thinking that in them he could find the true equal or the true double, or the truth of any other proportion. no, he replied, such an idea would be ridiculous. and will not a true astronomer have the same feeling when he looks at the movements of the stars? will he not think that heaven and the things in heaven are framed by the creator of them in the most perfect manner? but he will never imagine that the proportions of night and day, or of both to the month, or of the month to the year, or of the stars to these and to one another, and any other things that are material and visible can also be eternal and subject to no deviation--that would be absurd; and it is equally absurd to take so much pains in investigating their exact truth. i quite agree, though i never thought of this before. then, i said, in astronomy, as in geometry, we should employ problems, and let the heavens alone if we would approach the subject in the right way and so make the natural gift of reason to be of any real use. that, he said, is a work infinitely beyond our present astronomers. yes, i said; and there are many other things which must also have a similar extension given to them, if our legislation is to be of any value. but can you tell me of any other suitable study? no, he said, not without thinking. motion, i said, has many forms, and not one only; two of them are obvious enough even to wits no better than ours; and there are others, as i imagine, which may be left to wiser persons. but where are the two? there is a second, i said, which is the counterpart of the one already named. and what may that be? the second, i said, would seem relatively to the ears to be what the first is to the eyes; for i conceive that as the eyes are designed to look up at the stars, so are the ears to hear harmonious motions; and these are sister sciences--as the pythagoreans say, and we, glaucon, agree with them? yes, he replied. but this, i said, is a laborious study, and therefore we had better go and learn of them; and they will tell us whether there are any other applications of these sciences. at the same time, we must not lose sight of our own higher object. what is that? there is a perfection which all knowledge ought to reach, and which our pupils ought also to attain, and not to fall short of, as i was saying that they did in astronomy. for in the science of harmony, as you probably know, the same thing happens. the teachers of harmony compare the sounds and consonances which are heard only, and their labour, like that of the astronomers, is in vain. yes, by heaven! he said; and 'tis as good as a play to hear them talking about their condensed notes, as they call them; they put their ears close alongside of the strings like persons catching a sound from their neighbour's wall--one set of them declaring that they distinguish an intermediate note and have found the least interval which should be the unit of measurement; the others insisting that the two sounds have passed into the same--either party setting their ears before their understanding. you mean, i said, those gentlemen who tease and torture the strings and rack them on the pegs of the instrument: might carry on the metaphor and speak after their manner of the blows which the plectrum gives, and make accusations against the strings, both of backwardness and forwardness to sound; but this would be tedious, and therefore i will only say that these are not the men, and that i am referring to the pythagoreans, of whom i was just now proposing to enquire about harmony. for they too are in error, like the astronomers; they investigate the numbers of the harmonies which are heard, but they never attain to problems-that is to say, they never reach the natural harmonies of number, or reflect why some numbers are harmonious and others not. that, he said, is a thing of more than mortal knowledge. a thing, i replied, which i would rather call useful; that is, if sought after with a view to the beautiful and good; but if pursued in any other spirit, useless. very true, he said. now, when all these studies reach the point of inter-communion and connection with one another, and come to be considered in their mutual affinities, then, i think, but not till then, will the pursuit of them have a value for our objects; otherwise there is no profit in them. i suspect so; but you are speaking, socrates, of a vast work. what do you mean? i said; the prelude or what? do you not know that all this is but the prelude to the actual strain which we have to learn? for you surely would not regard the skilled mathematician as a dialectician? assuredly not, he said; i have hardly ever known a mathematician who was capable of reasoning. but do you imagine that men who are unable to give and take a reason will have the knowledge which we require of them? neither can this be supposed. and so, glaucon, i said, we have at last arrived at the hymn of dialectic. this is that strain which is of the intellect only, but which the faculty of sight will nevertheless be found to imitate; for sight, as you may remember, was imagined by us after a while to behold the real animals and stars, and last of all the sun himself. and so with dialectic; when a person starts on the discovery of the absolute by the light of reason only, and without any assistance of sense, and perseveres until by pure intelligence he arrives at the perception of the absolute good, he at last finds himself at the end of the intellectual world, as in the case of sight at the end of the visible. exactly, he said. then this is the progress which you call dialectic? true. but the release of the prisoners from chains, and their translation from the shadows to the images and to the light, and the ascent from the underground den to the sun, while in his presence they are vainly trying to look on animals and plants and the light of the sun, but are able to perceive even with their weak eyes the images in the water (which are divine), and are the shadows of true existence (not shadows of images cast by a light of fire, which compared with the sun is only an image)--this power of elevating the highest principle in the soul to the contemplation of that which is best in existence, with which we may compare the raising of that faculty which is the very light of the body to the sight of that which is brightest in the material and visible world--this power is given, as i was saying, by all that study and pursuit of the arts which has been described. i agree in what you are saying, he replied, which may be hard to believe, yet, from another point of view, is harder still to deny. this, however, is not a theme to be treated of in passing only, but will have to be discussed again and again. and so, whether our conclusion be true or false, let us assume all this, and proceed at once from the prelude or preamble to the chief strain, and describe that in like manner. say, then, what is the nature and what are the divisions of dialectic, and what are the paths which lead thither; for these paths will also lead to our final rest? dear glaucon, i said, you will not be able to follow me here, though i would do my best, and you should behold not an image only but the absolute truth, according to my notion. whether what i told you would or would not have been a reality i cannot venture to say; but you would have seen something like reality; of that i am confident. doubtless, he replied. but i must also remind you, that the power of dialectic alone can reveal this, and only to one who is a disciple of the previous sciences. of that assertion you may be as confident as of the last. and assuredly no one will argue that there is any other method of comprehending by any regular process all true existence or of ascertaining what each thing is in its own nature; for the arts in general are concerned with the desires or opinions of men, or are cultivated with a view to production and construction, or for the preservation of such productions and constructions; and as to the mathematical sciences which, as we were saying, have some apprehension of true being--geometry and the like--they only dream about being, but never can they behold the waking reality so long as they leave the hypotheses which they use unexamined, and are unable to give an account of them. for when a man knows not his own first principle, and when the conclusion and intermediate steps are also constructed out of he knows not what, how can he imagine that such a fabric of convention can ever become science? impossible, he said. then dialectic, and dialectic alone, goes directly to the first principle and is the only science which does away with hypotheses in order to make her ground secure; the eye of the soul, which is literally buried in an outlandish slough, is by her gentle aid lifted upwards; and she uses as handmaids and helpers in the work of conversion, the sciences which we have been discussing. custom terms them sciences, but they ought to have some other name, implying greater clearness than opinion and less clearness than science: and this, in our previous sketch, was called understanding. but why should we dispute about names when we have realities of such importance to consider? why indeed, he said, when any name will do which expresses the thought of the mind with clearness? at any rate, we are satisfied, as before, to have four divisions; two for intellect and two for opinion, and to call the first division science, the second understanding, the third belief, and the fourth perception of shadows, opinion being concerned with becoming, and intellect with being; and so to make a proportion:-- as being is to becoming, so is pure intellect to opinion. and as intellect is to opinion, so is science to belief, and understanding to the perception of shadows. but let us defer the further correlation and subdivision of the subjects of opinion and of intellect, for it will be a long enquiry, many times longer than this has been. as far as i understand, he said, i agree. and do you also agree, i said, in describing the dialectician as one who attains a conception of the essence of each thing? and he who does not possess and is therefore unable to impart this conception, in whatever degree he fails, may in that degree also be said to fail in intelligence? will you admit so much? yes, he said; how can i deny it? and you would say the same of the conception of the good? until the person is able to abstract and define rationally the idea of good, and unless he can run the gauntlet of all objections, and is ready to disprove them, not by appeals to opinion, but to absolute truth, never faltering at any step of the argument--unless he can do all this, you would say that he knows neither the idea of good nor any other good; he apprehends only a shadow, if anything at all, which is given by opinion and not by science;--dreaming and slumbering in this life, before he is well awake here, he arrives at the world below, and has his final quietus. in all that i should most certainly agree with you. and surely you would not have the children of your ideal state, whom you are nurturing and educating--if the ideal ever becomes a reality--you would not allow the future rulers to be like posts, having no reason in them, and yet to be set in authority over the highest matters? certainly not. then you will make a law that they shall have such an education as will enable them to attain the greatest skill in asking and answering questions? yes, he said, you and i together will make it. dialectic, then, as you will agree, is the coping-stone of the sciences, and is set over them; no other science can be placed higher--the nature of knowledge can no further go? i agree, he said. but to whom we are to assign these studies, and in what way they are to be assigned, are questions which remain to be considered? yes, clearly. you remember, i said, how the rulers were chosen before? certainly, he said. the same natures must still be chosen, and the preference again given to the surest and the bravest, and, if possible, to the fairest; and, having noble and generous tempers, they should also have the natural gifts which will facilitate their education. and what are these? such gifts as keenness and ready powers of acquisition; for the mind more often faints from the severity of study than from the severity of gymnastics: the toil is more entirely the mind's own, and is not shared with the body. very true, he replied. further, he of whom we are in search should have a good memory, and be an unwearied solid man who is a lover of labour in any line; or he will never be able to endure the great amount of bodily exercise and to go through all the intellectual discipline and study which we require of him. certainly, he said; he must have natural gifts. the mistake at present is, that those who study philosophy have no vocation, and this, as i was before saying, is the reason why she has fallen into disrepute: her true sons should take her by the hand and not bastards. what do you mean? in the first place, her votary should not have a lame or halting industry--i mean, that he should not be half industrious and half idle: as, for example, when a man is a lover of gymnastic and hunting, and all other bodily exercises, but a hater rather than a lover of the labour of learning or listening or enquiring. or the occupation to which he devotes himself may be of an opposite kind, and he may have the other sort of lameness. certainly, he said. and as to truth, i said, is not a soul equally to be deemed halt and lame which hates voluntary falsehood and is extremely indignant at herself and others when they tell lies, but is patient of involuntary falsehood, and does not mind wallowing like a swinish beast in the mire of ignorance, and has no shame at being detected? to be sure. and, again, in respect of temperance, courage, magnificence, and every other virtue, should we not carefully distinguish between the true son and the bastard? for where there is no discernment of such qualities states and individuals unconsciously err and the state makes a ruler, and the individual a friend, of one who, being defective in some part of virtue, is in a figure lame or a bastard. that is very true, he said. all these things, then, will have to be carefully considered by us; and if only those whom we introduce to this vast system of education and training are sound in body and mind, justice herself will have nothing to say against us, and we shall be the saviours of the constitution and of the state; but, if our pupils are men of another stamp, the reverse will happen, and we shall pour a still greater flood of ridicule on philosophy than she has to endure at present. that would not be creditable. certainly not, i said; and yet perhaps, in thus turning jest into earnest i am equally ridiculous. in what respect? i had forgotten, i said, that we were not serious, and spoke with too much excitement. for when i saw philosophy so undeservedly trampled under foot of men i could not help feeling a sort of indignation at the authors of her disgrace: and my anger made me too vehement. indeed! i was listening, and did not think so. but i, who am the speaker, felt that i was. and now let me remind you that, although in our former selection we chose old men, we must not do so in this. solon was under a delusion when he said that a man when he grows old may learn many things--for he can no more learn much than he can run much; youth is the time for any extraordinary toil. of course. and, therefore, calculation and geometry and all the other elements of instruction, which are a preparation for dialectic, should be presented to the mind in childhood; not, however, under any notion of forcing our system of education. why not? because a freeman ought not to be a slave in the acquisition of knowledge of any kind. bodily exercise, when compulsory, does no harm to the body; but knowledge which is acquired under compulsion obtains no hold on the mind. very true. then, my good friend, i said, do not use compulsion, but let early education be a sort of amusement; you will then be better able to find out the natural bent. that is a very rational notion, he said. do you remember that the children, too, were to be taken to see the battle on horseback; and that if there were no danger they were to be brought close up and, like young hounds, have a taste of blood given them? yes, i remember. the same practice may be followed, i said, in all these things--labours, lessons, dangers--and he who is most at home in all of them ought to be enrolled in a select number. at what age? at the age when the necessary gymnastics are over: the period whether of two or three years which passes in this sort of training is useless for any other purpose; for sleep and exercise are unpropitious to learning; and the trial of who is first in gymnastic exercises is one of the most important tests to which our youth are subjected. certainly, he replied. after that time those who are selected from the class of twenty years old will be promoted to higher honour, and the sciences which they learned without any order in their early education will now be brought together, and they will be able to see the natural relationship of them to one another and to true being. yes, he said, that is the only kind of knowledge which takes lasting root. yes, i said; and the capacity for such knowledge is the great criterion of dialectical talent: the comprehensive mind is always the dialectical. i agree with you, he said. these, i said, are the points which you must consider; and those who have most of this comprehension, and who are more steadfast in their learning, and in their military and other appointed duties, when they have arrived at the age of thirty have to be chosen by you out of the select class, and elevated to higher honour; and you will have to prove them by the help of dialectic, in order to learn which of them is able to give up the use of sight and the other senses, and in company with truth to attain absolute being: and here, my friend, great caution is required. why great caution? do you not remark, i said, how great is the evil which dialectic has introduced? what evil? he said. the students of the art are filled with lawlessness. quite true, he said. do you think that there is anything so very unnatural or inexcusable in their case? or will you make allowance for them? in what way make allowance? i want you, i said, by way of parallel, to imagine a supposititious son who is brought up in great wealth; he is one of a great and numerous family, and has many flatterers. when he grows up to manhood, he learns that his alleged are not his real parents; but who the real are he is unable to discover. can you guess how he will be likely to behave towards his flatterers and his supposed parents, first of all during the period when he is ignorant of the false relation, and then again when he knows? or shall i guess for you? if you please. then i should say, that while he is ignorant of the truth he will be likely to honour his father and his mother and his supposed relations more than the flatterers; he will be less inclined to neglect them when in need, or to do or say anything against them; and he will be less willing to disobey them in any important matter. he will. but when he has made the discovery, i should imagine that he would diminish his honour and regard for them, and would become more devoted to the flatterers; their influence over him would greatly increase; he would now live after their ways, and openly associate with them, and, unless he were of an unusually good disposition, he would trouble himself no more about his supposed parents or other relations. well, all that is very probable. but how is the image applicable to the disciples of philosophy? in this way: you know that there are certain principles about justice and honour, which were taught us in childhood, and under their parental authority we have been brought up, obeying and honouring them. that is true. there are also opposite maxims and habits of pleasure which flatter and attract the soul, but do not influence those of us who have any sense of right, and they continue to obey and honour the maxims of their fathers. true. now, when a man is in this state, and the questioning spirit asks what is fair or honourable, and he answers as the legislator has taught him, and then arguments many and diverse refute his words, until he is driven into believing that nothing is honourable any more than dishonourable, or just and good any more than the reverse, and so of all the notions which he most valued, do you think that he will still honour and obey them as before? impossible. and when he ceases to think them honourable and natural as heretofore, and he fails to discover the true, can he be expected to pursue any life other than that which flatters his desires? he cannot. and from being a keeper of the law he is converted into a breaker of it? unquestionably. now all this is very natural in students of philosophy such as i have described, and also, as i was just now saying, most excusable. yes, he said; and, i may add, pitiable. therefore, that your feelings may not be moved to pity about our citizens who are now thirty years of age, every care must be taken in introducing them to dialectic. certainly. there is a danger lest they should taste the dear delight too early; for youngsters, as you may have observed, when they first get the taste in their mouths, argue for amusement, and are always contradicting and refuting others in imitation of those who refute them; like puppy-dogs, they rejoice in pulling and tearing at all who come near them. yes, he said, there is nothing which they like better. and when they have made many conquests and received defeats at the hands of many, they violently and speedily get into a way of not believing anything which they believed before, and hence, not only they, but philosophy and all that relates to it is apt to have a bad name with the rest of the world. too true, he said. but when a man begins to get older, he will no longer be guilty of such insanity; he will imitate the dialectician who is seeking for truth, and not the eristic, who is contradicting for the sake of amusement; and the greater moderation of his character will increase instead of diminishing the honour of the pursuit. very true, he said. and did we not make special provision for this, when we said that the disciples of philosophy were to be orderly and steadfast, not, as now, any chance aspirant or intruder? very true. suppose, i said, the study of philosophy to take the place of gymnastics and to be continued diligently and earnestly and exclusively for twice the number of years which were passed in bodily exercise--will that be enough? would you say six or four years? he asked. say five years, i replied; at the end of the time they must be sent down again into the den and compelled to hold any military or other office which young men are qualified to hold: in this way they will get their experience of life, and there will be an opportunity of trying whether, when they are drawn all manner of ways by temptation, they will stand firm or flinch. and how long is this stage of their lives to last? fifteen years, i answered; and when they have reached fifty years of age, then let those who still survive and have distinguished themselves in every action of their lives and in every branch of knowledge come at last to their consummation; the time has now arrived at which they must raise the eye of the soul to the universal light which lightens all things, and behold the absolute good; for that is the pattern according to which they are to order the state and the lives of individuals, and the remainder of their own lives also; making philosophy their chief pursuit, but, when their turn comes, toiling also at politics and ruling for the public good, not as though they were performing some heroic action, but simply as a matter of duty; and when they have brought up in each generation others like themselves and left them in their place to be governors of the state, then they will depart to the islands of the blest and dwell there; and the city will give them public memorials and sacrifices and honour them, if the pythian oracle consent, as demi-gods, but if not, as in any case blessed and divine. you are a sculptor, socrates, and have made statues of our governors faultless in beauty. yes, i said, glaucon, and of our governesses too; for you must not suppose that what i have been saying applies to men only and not to women as far as their natures can go. there you are right, he said, since we have made them to share in all things like the men. well, i said, and you would agree (would you not?) that what has been said about the state and the government is not a mere dream, and although difficult not impossible, but only possible in the way which has been supposed; that is to say, when the true philosopher kings are born in a state, one or more of them, despising the honours of this present world which they deem mean and worthless, esteeming above all things right and the honour that springs from right, and regarding justice as the greatest and most necessary of all things, whose ministers they are, and whose principles will be exalted by them when they set in order their own city? how will they proceed? they will begin by sending out into the country all the inhabitants of the city who are more than ten years old, and will take possession of their children, who will be unaffected by the habits of their parents; these they will train in their own habits and laws, i mean in the laws which we have given them: and in this way the state and constitution of which we were speaking will soonest and most easily attain happiness, and the nation which has such a constitution will gain most. yes, that will be the best way. and i think, socrates, that you have very well described how, if ever, such a constitution might come into being. enough then of the perfect state, and of the man who bears its image--there is no difficulty in seeing how we shall describe him. there is no difficulty, he replied; and i agree with you in thinking that nothing more need be said. book viii socrates - glaucon and so, glaucon, we have arrived at the conclusion that in the perfect state wives and children are to be in common; and that all education and the pursuits of war and peace are also to be common, and the best philosophers and the bravest warriors are to be their kings? that, replied glaucon, has been acknowledged. yes, i said; and we have further acknowledged that the governors, when appointed themselves, will take their soldiers and place them in houses such as we were describing, which are common to all, and contain nothing private, or individual; and about their property, you remember what we agreed? yes, i remember that no one was to have any of the ordinary possessions of mankind; they were to be warrior athletes and guardians, receiving from the other citizens, in lieu of annual payment, only their maintenance, and they were to take care of themselves and of the whole state. true, i said; and now that this division of our task is concluded, let us find the point at which we digressed, that we may return into the old path. there is no difficulty in returning; you implied, then as now, that you had finished the description of the state: you said that such a state was good, and that the man was good who answered to it, although, as now appears, you had more excellent things to relate both of state and man. and you said further, that if this was the true form, then the others were false; and of the false forms, you said, as i remember, that there were four principal ones, and that their defects, and the defects of the individuals corresponding to them, were worth examining. when we had seen all the individuals, and finally agreed as to who was the best and who was the worst of them, we were to consider whether the best was not also the happiest, and the worst the most miserable. i asked you what were the four forms of government of which you spoke, and then polemarchus and adeimantus put in their word; and you began again, and have found your way to the point at which we have now arrived. your recollection, i said, is most exact. then, like a wrestler, he replied, you must put yourself again in the same position; and let me ask the same questions, and do you give me the same answer which you were about to give me then. yes, if i can, i will, i said. i shall particularly wish to hear what were the four constitutions of which you were speaking. that question, i said, is easily answered: the four governments of which i spoke, so far as they have distinct names, are, first, those of crete and sparta, which are generally applauded; what is termed oligarchy comes next; this is not equally approved, and is a form of government which teems with evils: thirdly, democracy, which naturally follows oligarchy, although very different: and lastly comes tyranny, great and famous, which differs from them all, and is the fourth and worst disorder of a state. i do not know, do you? of any other constitution which can be said to have a distinct character. there are lordships and principalities which are bought and sold, and some other intermediate forms of government. but these are nondescripts and may be found equally among hellenes and among barbarians. yes, he replied, we certainly hear of many curious forms of government which exist among them. do you know, i said, that governments vary as the dispositions of men vary, and that there must be as many of the one as there are of the other? for we cannot suppose that states are made of 'oak and rock,' and not out of the human natures which are in them, and which in a figure turn the scale and draw other things after them? yes, he said, the states are as the men are; they grow out of human characters. then if the constitutions of states are five, the dispositions of individual minds will also be five? certainly. him who answers to aristocracy, and whom we rightly call just and good, we have already described. we have. then let us now proceed to describe the inferior sort of natures, being the contentious and ambitious, who answer to the spartan polity; also the oligarchical, democratical, and tyrannical. let us place the most just by the side of the most unjust, and when we see them we shall be able to compare the relative happiness or unhappiness of him who leads a life of pure justice or pure injustice. the enquiry will then be completed. and we shall know whether we ought to pursue injustice, as thrasymachus advises, or in accordance with the conclusions of the argument to prefer justice. certainly, he replied, we must do as you say. shall we follow our old plan, which we adopted with a view to clearness, of taking the state first and then proceeding to the individual, and begin with the government of honour?--i know of no name for such a government other than timocracy, or perhaps timarchy. we will compare with this the like character in the individual; and, after that, consider oligarchical man; and then again we will turn our attention to democracy and the democratical man; and lastly, we will go and view the city of tyranny, and once more take a look into the tyrant's soul, and try to arrive at a satisfactory decision. that way of viewing and judging of the matter will be very suitable. first, then, i said, let us enquire how timocracy (the government of honour) arises out of aristocracy (the government of the best). clearly, all political changes originate in divisions of the actual governing power; a government which is united, however small, cannot be moved. very true, he said. in what way, then, will our city be moved, and in what manner the two classes of auxiliaries and rulers disagree among themselves or with one another? shall we, after the manner of homer, pray the muses to tell us 'how discord first arose'? shall we imagine them in solemn mockery, to play and jest with us as if we were children, and to address us in a lofty tragic vein, making believe to be in earnest? how would they address us? after this manner:--a city which is thus constituted can hardly be shaken; but, seeing that everything which has a beginning has also an end, even a constitution such as yours will not last for ever, but will in time be dissolved. and this is the dissolution:--in plants that grow in the earth, as well as in animals that move on the earth's surface, fertility and sterility of soul and body occur when the circumferences of the circles of each are completed, which in short-lived existences pass over a short space, and in long-lived ones over a long space. but to the knowledge of human fecundity and sterility all the wisdom and education of your rulers will not attain; the laws which regulate them will not be discovered by an intelligence which is alloyed with sense, but will escape them, and they will bring children into the world when they ought not. now that which is of divine birth has a period which is contained in a perfect number, but the period of human birth is comprehended in a number in which first increments by involution and evolution (or squared and cubed) obtaining three intervals and four terms of like and unlike, waxing and waning numbers, make all the terms commensurable and agreeable to one another. the base of these ( ) with a third added ( ) when combined with five ( ) and raised to the third power furnishes two harmonies; the first a square which is a hundred times as great ( = x ), and the other a figure having one side equal to the former, but oblong, consisting of a hundred numbers squared upon rational diameters of a square (i. e. omitting fractions), the side of which is five ( x = x = ), each of them being less by one (than the perfect square which includes the fractions, sc. ) or less by two perfect squares of irrational diameters (of a square the side of which is five = + = ); and a hundred cubes of three ( x = + + = ). now this number represents a geometrical figure which has control over the good and evil of births. for when your guardians are ignorant of the law of births, and unite bride and bridegroom out of season, the children will not be goodly or fortunate. and though only the best of them will be appointed by their predecessors, still they will be unworthy to hold their fathers' places, and when they come into power as guardians, they will soon be found to fall in taking care of us, the muses, first by under-valuing music; which neglect will soon extend to gymnastic; and hence the young men of your state will be less cultivated. in the succeeding generation rulers will be appointed who have lost the guardian power of testing the metal of your different races, which, like hesiod's, are of gold and silver and brass and iron. and so iron will be mingled with silver, and brass with gold, and hence there will arise dissimilarity and inequality and irregularity, which always and in all places are causes of hatred and war. this the muses affirm to be the stock from which discord has sprung, wherever arising; and this is their answer to us. yes, and we may assume that they answer truly. why, yes, i said, of course they answer truly; how can the muses speak falsely? and what do the muses say next? when discord arose, then the two races were drawn different ways: the iron and brass fell to acquiring money and land and houses and gold and silver; but the gold and silver races, not wanting money but having the true riches in their own nature, inclined towards virtue and the ancient order of things. there was a battle between them, and at last they agreed to distribute their land and houses among individual owners; and they enslaved their friends and maintainers, whom they had formerly protected in the condition of freemen, and made of them subjects and servants; and they themselves were engaged in war and in keeping a watch against them. i believe that you have rightly conceived the origin of the change. and the new government which thus arises will be of a form intermediate between oligarchy and aristocracy? very true. such will be the change, and after the change has been made, how will they proceed? clearly, the new state, being in a mean between oligarchy and the perfect state, will partly follow one and partly the other, and will also have some peculiarities. true, he said. in the honour given to rulers, in the abstinence of the warrior class from agriculture, handicrafts, and trade in general, in the institution of common meals, and in the attention paid to gymnastics and military training--in all these respects this state will resemble the former. true. but in the fear of admitting philosophers to power, because they are no longer to be had simple and earnest, but are made up of mixed elements; and in turning from them to passionate and less complex characters, who are by nature fitted for war rather than peace; and in the value set by them upon military stratagems and contrivances, and in the waging of everlasting wars--this state will be for the most part peculiar. yes. yes, i said; and men of this stamp will be covetous of money, like those who live in oligarchies; they will have, a fierce secret longing after gold and silver, which they will hoard in dark places, having magazines and treasuries of their own for the deposit and concealment of them; also castles which are just nests for their eggs, and in which they will spend large sums on their wives, or on any others whom they please. that is most true, he said. and they are miserly because they have no means of openly acquiring the money which they prize; they will spend that which is another man's on the gratification of their desires, stealing their pleasures and running away like children from the law, their father: they have been schooled not by gentle influences but by force, for they have neglected her who is the true muse, the companion of reason and philosophy, and have honoured gymnastic more than music. undoubtedly, he said, the form of government which you describe is a mixture of good and evil. why, there is a mixture, i said; but one thing, and one thing only, is predominantly seen,--the spirit of contention and ambition; and these are due to the prevalence of the passionate or spirited element. assuredly, he said. such is the origin and such the character of this state, which has been described in outline only; the more perfect execution was not required, for a sketch is enough to show the type of the most perfectly just and most perfectly unjust; and to go through all the states and all the characters of men, omitting none of them, would be an interminable labour. very true, he replied. now what man answers to this form of government-how did he come into being, and what is he like? socrates - adeimantus i think, said adeimantus, that in the spirit of contention which characterises him, he is not unlike our friend glaucon. perhaps, i said, he may be like him in that one point; but there are other respects in which he is very different. in what respects? he should have more of self-assertion and be less cultivated, and yet a friend of culture; and he should be a good listener, but no speaker. such a person is apt to be rough with slaves, unlike the educated man, who is too proud for that; and he will also be courteous to freemen, and remarkably obedient to authority; he is a lover of power and a lover of honour; claiming to be a ruler, not because he is eloquent, or on any ground of that sort, but because he is a soldier and has performed feats of arms; he is also a lover of gymnastic exercises and of the chase. yes, that is the type of character which answers to timocracy. such an one will despise riches only when he is young; but as he gets older he will be more and more attracted to them, because he has a piece of the avaricious nature in him, and is not singleminded towards virtue, having lost his best guardian. who was that? said adeimantus. philosophy, i said, tempered with music, who comes and takes her abode in a man, and is the only saviour of his virtue throughout life. good, he said. such, i said, is the timocratical youth, and he is like the timocratical state. exactly. his origin is as follows:--he is often the young son of a grave father, who dwells in an ill-governed city, of which he declines the honours and offices, and will not go to law, or exert himself in any way, but is ready to waive his rights in order that he may escape trouble. and how does the son come into being? the character of the son begins to develop when he hears his mother complaining that her husband has no place in the government, of which the consequence is that she has no precedence among other women. further, when she sees her husband not very eager about money, and instead of battling and railing in the law courts or assembly, taking whatever happens to him quietly; and when she observes that his thoughts always centre in himself, while he treats her with very considerable indifference, she is annoyed, and says to her son that his father is only half a man and far too easy-going: adding all the other complaints about her own ill-treatment which women are so fond of rehearsing. yes, said adeimantus, they give us plenty of them, and their complaints are so like themselves. and you know, i said, that the old servants also, who are supposed to be attached to the family, from time to time talk privately in the same strain to the son; and if they see any one who owes money to his father, or is wronging him in any way, and he falls to prosecute them, they tell the youth that when he grows up he must retaliate upon people of this sort, and be more of a man than his father. he has only to walk abroad and he hears and sees the same sort of thing: those who do their own business in the city are called simpletons, and held in no esteem, while the busy-bodies are honoured and applauded. the result is that the young man, hearing and seeing all these thing--hearing too, the words of his father, and having a nearer view of his way of life, and making comparisons of him and others--is drawn opposite ways: while his father is watering and nourishing the rational principle in his soul, the others are encouraging the passionate and appetitive; and he being not originally of a bad nature, but having kept bad company, is at last brought by their joint influence to a middle point, and gives up the kingdom which is within him to the middle principle of contentiousness and passion, and becomes arrogant and ambitious. you seem to me to have described his origin perfectly. then we have now, i said, the second form of government and the second type of character? we have. next, let us look at another man who, as aeschylus says, is set over against another state; or rather, as our plan requires, begin with the state. by all means. i believe that oligarchy follows next in order. and what manner of government do you term oligarchy? a government resting on a valuation of property, in which the rich have power and the poor man is deprived of it. i understand, he replied. ought i not to begin by describing how the change from timocracy to oligarchy arises? yes. well, i said, no eyes are required in order to see how the one passes into the other. how? the accumulation of gold in the treasury of private individuals is ruin the of timocracy; they invent illegal modes of expenditure; for what do they or their wives care about the law? yes, indeed. and then one, seeing another grow rich, seeks to rival him, and thus the great mass of the citizens become lovers of money. likely enough. and so they grow richer and richer, and the more they think of making a fortune the less they think of virtue; for when riches and virtue are placed together in the scales of the balance, the one always rises as the other falls. true. and in proportion as riches and rich men are honoured in the state, virtue and the virtuous are dishonoured. clearly. and what is honoured is cultivated, and that which has no honour is neglected. that is obvious. and so at last, instead of loving contention and glory, men become lovers of trade and money; they honour and look up to the rich man, and make a ruler of him, and dishonour the poor man. they do so. they next proceed to make a law which fixes a sum of money as the qualification of citizenship; the sum is higher in one place and lower in another, as the oligarchy is more or less exclusive; and they allow no one whose property falls below the amount fixed to have any share in the government. these changes in the constitution they effect by force of arms, if intimidation has not already done their work. very true. and this, speaking generally, is the way in which oligarchy is established. yes, he said; but what are the characteristics of this form of government, and what are the defects of which we were speaking? first of all, i said, consider the nature of the qualification just think what would happen if pilots were to be chosen according to their property, and a poor man were refused permission to steer, even though he were a better pilot? you mean that they would shipwreck? yes; and is not this true of the government of anything? i should imagine so. except a city?--or would you include a city? nay, he said, the case of a city is the strongest of all, inasmuch as the rule of a city is the greatest and most difficult of all. this, then, will be the first great defect of oligarchy? clearly. and here is another defect which is quite as bad. what defect? the inevitable division: such a state is not one, but two states, the one of poor, the other of rich men; and they are living on the same spot and always conspiring against one another. that, surely, is at least as bad. another discreditable feature is, that, for a like reason, they are incapable of carrying on any war. either they arm the multitude, and then they are more afraid of them than of the enemy; or, if they do not call them out in the hour of battle, they are oligarchs indeed, few to fight as they are few to rule. and at the same time their fondness for money makes them unwilling to pay taxes. how discreditable! and, as we said before, under such a constitution the same persons have too many callings--they are husbandmen, tradesmen, warriors, all in one. does that look well? anything but well. there is another evil which is, perhaps, the greatest of all, and to which this state first begins to be liable. what evil? a man may sell all that he has, and another may acquire his property; yet after the sale he may dwell in the city of which he is no longer a part, being neither trader, nor artisan, nor horseman, nor hoplite, but only a poor, helpless creature. yes, that is an evil which also first begins in this state. the evil is certainly not prevented there; for oligarchies have both the extremes of great wealth and utter poverty. true. but think again: in his wealthy days, while he was spending his money, was a man of this sort a whit more good to the state for the purposes of citizenship? or did he only seem to be a member of the ruling body, although in truth he was neither ruler nor subject, but just a spendthrift? as you say, he seemed to be a ruler, but was only a spendthrift. may we not say that this is the drone in the house who is like the drone in the honeycomb, and that the one is the plague of the city as the other is of the hive? just so, socrates. and god has made the flying drones, adeimantus, all without stings, whereas of the walking drones he has made some without stings but others have dreadful stings; of the stingless class are those who in their old age end as paupers; of the stingers come all the criminal class, as they are termed. most true, he said. clearly then, whenever you see paupers in a state, somewhere in that neighborhood there are hidden away thieves, and cutpurses and robbers of temples, and all sorts of malefactors. clearly. well, i said, and in oligarchical states do you not find paupers? yes, he said; nearly everybody is a pauper who is not a ruler. and may we be so bold as to affirm that there are also many criminals to be found in them, rogues who have stings, and whom the authorities are careful to restrain by force? certainly, we may be so bold. the existence of such persons is to be attributed to want of education, ill-training, and an evil constitution of the state? true. such, then, is the form and such are the evils of oligarchy; and there may be many other evils. very likely. then oligarchy, or the form of government in which the rulers are elected for their wealth, may now be dismissed. let us next proceed to consider the nature and origin of the individual who answers to this state. by all means. does not the timocratical man change into the oligarchical on this wise? how? a time arrives when the representative of timocracy has a son: at first he begins by emulating his father and walking in his footsteps, but presently he sees him of a sudden foundering against the state as upon a sunken reef, and he and all that he has is lost; he may have been a general or some other high officer who is brought to trial under a prejudice raised by informers, and either put to death, or exiled, or deprived of the privileges of a citizen, and all his property taken from him. nothing more likely. and the son has seen and known all this--he is a ruined man, and his fear has taught him to knock ambition and passion head-foremost from his bosom's throne; humbled by poverty he takes to money-making and by mean and miserly savings and hard work gets a fortune together. is not such an one likely to seat the concupiscent and covetous element on the vacant throne and to suffer it to play the great king within him, girt with tiara and chain and scimitar? most true, he replied. and when he has made reason and spirit sit down on the ground obediently on either side of their sovereign, and taught them to know their place, he compels the one to think only of how lesser sums may be turned into larger ones, and will not allow the other to worship and admire anything but riches and rich men, or to be ambitious of anything so much as the acquisition of wealth and the means of acquiring it. of all changes, he said, there is none so speedy or so sure as the conversion of the ambitious youth into the avaricious one. and the avaricious, i said, is the oligarchical youth? yes, he said; at any rate the individual out of whom he came is like the state out of which oligarchy came. let us then consider whether there is any likeness between them. very good. first, then, they resemble one another in the value which they set upon wealth? certainly. also in their penurious, laborious character; the individual only satisfies his necessary appetites, and confines his expenditure to them; his other desires he subdues, under the idea that they are unprofitable. true. he is a shabby fellow, who saves something out of everything and makes a purse for himself; and this is the sort of man whom the vulgar applaud. is he not a true image of the state which he represents? he appears to me to be so; at any rate money is highly valued by him as well as by the state. you see that he is not a man of cultivation, i said. i imagine not, he said; had he been educated he would never have made a blind god director of his chorus, or given him chief honour. excellent! i said. yet consider: must we not further admit that owing to this want of cultivation there will be found in him dronelike desires as of pauper and rogue, which are forcibly kept down by his general habit of life? true. do you know where you will have to look if you want to discover his rogueries? where must i look? you should see him where he has some great opportunity of acting dishonestly, as in the guardianship of an orphan. aye. it will be clear enough then that in his ordinary dealings which give him a reputation for honesty he coerces his bad passions by an enforced virtue; not making them see that they are wrong, or taming them by reason, but by necessity and fear constraining them, and because he trembles for his possessions. to be sure. yes, indeed, my dear friend, but you will find that the natural desires of the drone commonly exist in him all the same whenever he has to spend what is not his own. yes, and they will be strong in him too. the man, then, will be at war with himself; he will be two men, and not one; but, in general, his better desires will be found to prevail over his inferior ones. true. for these reasons such an one will be more respectable than most people; yet the true virtue of a unanimous and harmonious soul will flee far away and never come near him. i should expect so. and surely, the miser individually will be an ignoble competitor in a state for any prize of victory, or other object of honourable ambition; he will not spend his money in the contest for glory; so afraid is he of awakening his expensive appetites and inviting them to help and join in the struggle; in true oligarchical fashion he fights with a small part only of his resources, and the result commonly is that he loses the prize and saves his money. very true. can we any longer doubt, then, that the miser and money-maker answers to the oligarchical state? there can be no doubt. next comes democracy; of this the origin and nature have still to be considered by us; and then we will enquire into the ways of the democratic man, and bring him up for judgement. that, he said, is our method. well, i said, and how does the change from oligarchy into democracy arise? is it not on this wise?--the good at which such a state alms is to become as rich as possible, a desire which is insatiable? what then? the rulers, being aware that their power rests upon their wealth, refuse to curtail by law the extravagance of the spendthrift youth because they gain by their ruin; they take interest from them and buy up their estates and thus increase their own wealth and importance? to be sure. there can be no doubt that the love of wealth and the spirit of moderation cannot exist together in citizens of the same state to any considerable extent; one or the other will be disregarded. that is tolerably clear. and in oligarchical states, from the general spread of carelessness and extravagance, men of good family have often been reduced to beggary? yes, often. and still they remain in the city; there they are, ready to sting and fully armed, and some of them owe money, some have forfeited their citizenship; a third class are in both predicaments; and they hate and conspire against those who have got their property, and against everybody else, and are eager for revolution. that is true. on the other hand, the men of business, stooping as they walk, and pretending not even to see those whom they have already ruined, insert their sting--that is, their money--into some one else who is not on his guard against them, and recover the parent sum many times over multiplied into a family of children: and so they make drone and pauper to abound in the state. yes, he said, there are plenty of them--that is certain. the evil blazes up like a fire; and they will not extinguish it, either by restricting a man's use of his own property, or by another remedy: what other? one which is the next best, and has the advantage of compelling the citizens to look to their characters:--let there be a general rule that every one shall enter into voluntary contracts at his own risk, and there will be less of this scandalous money-making, and the evils of which we were speaking will be greatly lessened in the state. yes, they will be greatly lessened. at present the governors, induced by the motives which i have named, treat their subjects badly; while they and their adherents, especially the young men of the governing class, are habituated to lead a life of luxury and idleness both of body and mind; they do nothing, and are incapable of resisting either pleasure or pain. very true. they themselves care only for making money, and are as indifferent as the pauper to the cultivation of virtue. yes, quite as indifferent. such is the state of affairs which prevails among them. and often rulers and their subjects may come in one another's way, whether on a pilgrimage or a march, as fellow-soldiers or fellow-sailors; aye, and they may observe the behaviour of each other in the very moment of danger--for where danger is, there is no fear that the poor will be despised by the rich--and very likely the wiry sunburnt poor man may be placed in battle at the side of a wealthy one who has never spoilt his complexion and has plenty of superfluous flesh--when he sees such an one puffing and at his wit's end, how can he avoid drawing the conclusion that men like him are only rich because no one has the courage to despoil them? and when they meet in private will not people be saying to one another 'our warriors are not good for much'? yes, he said, i am quite aware that this is their way of talking. and, as in a body which is diseased the addition of a touch from without may bring on illness, and sometimes even when there is no external provocation a commotion may arise within-in the same way wherever there is weakness in the state there is also likely to be illness, of which the occasions may be very slight, the one party introducing from without their oligarchical, the other their democratical allies, and then the state falls sick, and is at war with herself; and may be at times distracted, even when there is no external cause. yes, surely. and then democracy comes into being after the poor have conquered their opponents, slaughtering some and banishing some, while to the remainder they give an equal share of freedom and power; and this is the form of government in which the magistrates are commonly elected by lot. yes, he said, that is the nature of democracy, whether the revolution has been effected by arms, or whether fear has caused the opposite party to withdraw. and now what is their manner of life, and what sort of a government have they? for as the government is, such will be the man. clearly, he said. in the first place, are they not free; and is not the city full of freedom and frankness--a man may say and do what he likes? 'tis said so, he replied. and where freedom is, the individual is clearly able to order for himself his own life as he pleases? clearly. then in this kind of state there will be the greatest variety of human natures? there will. this, then, seems likely to be the fairest of states, being an embroidered robe which is spangled with every sort of flower. and just as women and children think a variety of colours to be of all things most charming, so there are many men to whom this state, which is spangled with the manners and characters of mankind, will appear to be the fairest of states. yes. yes, my good sir, and there will be no better in which to look for a government. why? because of the liberty which reigns there--they have a complete assortment of constitutions; and he who has a mind to establish a state, as we have been doing, must go to a democracy as he would to a bazaar at which they sell them, and pick out the one that suits him; then, when he has made his choice, he may found his state. he will be sure to have patterns enough. and there being no necessity, i said, for you to govern in this state, even if you have the capacity, or to be governed, unless you like, or go to war when the rest go to war, or to be at peace when others are at peace, unless you are so disposed--there being no necessity also, because some law forbids you to hold office or be a dicast, that you should not hold office or be a dicast, if you have a fancy--is not this a way of life which for the moment is supremely delightful for the moment, yes. and is not their humanity to the condemned in some cases quite charming? have you not observed how, in a democracy, many persons, although they have been sentenced to death or exile, just stay where they are and walk about the world--the gentleman parades like a hero, and nobody sees or cares? yes, he replied, many and many a one. see too, i said, the forgiving spirit of democracy, and the 'don't care' about trifles, and the disregard which she shows of all the fine principles which we solemnly laid down at the foundation of the city--as when we said that, except in the case of some rarely gifted nature, there never will be a good man who has not from his childhood been used to play amid things of beauty and make of them a joy and a study--how grandly does she trample all these fine notions of ours under her feet, never giving a thought to the pursuits which make a statesman, and promoting to honour any one who professes to be the people's friend. yes, she is of a noble spirit. these and other kindred characteristics are proper to democracy, which is a charming form of government, full of variety and disorder, and dispensing a sort of equality to equals and unequals alike. we know her well. consider now, i said, what manner of man the individual is, or rather consider, as in the case of the state, how he comes into being. very good, he said. is not this the way--he is the son of the miserly and oligarchical father who has trained him in his own habits? exactly. and, like his father, he keeps under by force the pleasures which are of the spending and not of the getting sort, being those which are called unnecessary? obviously. would you like, for the sake of clearness, to distinguish which are the necessary and which are the unnecessary pleasures? i should. are not necessary pleasures those of which we cannot get rid, and of which the satisfaction is a benefit to us? and they are rightly so, because we are framed by nature to desire both what is beneficial and what is necessary, and cannot help it. true. we are not wrong therefore in calling them necessary? we are not. and the desires of which a man may get rid, if he takes pains from his youth upwards--of which the presence, moreover, does no good, and in some cases the reverse of good--shall we not be right in saying that all these are unnecessary? yes, certainly. suppose we select an example of either kind, in order that we may have a general notion of them? very good. will not the desire of eating, that is, of simple food and condiments, in so far as they are required for health and strength, be of the necessary class? that is what i should suppose. the pleasure of eating is necessary in two ways; it does us good and it is essential to the continuance of life? yes. but the condiments are only necessary in so far as they are good for health? certainly. and the desire which goes beyond this, or more delicate food, or other luxuries, which might generally be got rid of, if controlled and trained in youth, and is hurtful to the body, and hurtful to the soul in the pursuit of wisdom and virtue, may be rightly called unnecessary? very true. may we not say that these desires spend, and that the others make money because they conduce to production? certainly. and of the pleasures of love, and all other pleasures, the same holds good? true. and the drone of whom we spoke was he who was surfeited in pleasures and desires of this sort, and was the slave of the unnecessary desires, whereas he who was subject o the necessary only was miserly and oligarchical? very true. again, let us see how the democratical man grows out of the oligarchical: the following, as i suspect, is commonly the process. what is the process? when a young man who has been brought up as we were just now describing, in a vulgar and miserly way, has tasted drones' honey and has come to associate with fierce and crafty natures who are able to provide for him all sorts of refinements and varieties of pleasure--then, as you may imagine, the change will begin of the oligarchical principle within him into the democratical? inevitably. and as in the city like was helping like, and the change was effected by an alliance from without assisting one division of the citizens, so too the young man is changed by a class of desires coming from without to assist the desires within him, that which is and alike again helping that which is akin and alike? certainly. and if there be any ally which aids the oligarchical principle within him, whether the influence of a father or of kindred, advising or rebuking him, then there arises in his soul a faction and an opposite faction, and he goes to war with himself. it must be so. and there are times when the democratical principle gives way to the oligarchical, and some of his desires die, and others are banished; a spirit of reverence enters into the young man's soul and order is restored. yes, he said, that sometimes happens. and then, again, after the old desires have been driven out, fresh ones spring up, which are akin to them, and because he, their father, does not know how to educate them, wax fierce and numerous. yes, he said, that is apt to be the way. they draw him to his old associates, and holding secret intercourse with them, breed and multiply in him. very true. at length they seize upon the citadel of the young man's soul, which they perceive to be void of all accomplishments and fair pursuits and true words, which make their abode in the minds of men who are dear to the gods, and are their best guardians and sentinels. none better. false and boastful conceits and phrases mount upwards and take their place. they are certain to do so. and so the young man returns into the country of the lotus-eaters, and takes up his dwelling there in the face of all men; and if any help be sent by his friends to the oligarchical part of him, the aforesaid vain conceits shut the gate of the king's fastness; and they will neither allow the embassy itself to enter, private if private advisers offer the fatherly counsel of the aged will they listen to them or receive them. there is a battle and they gain the day, and then modesty, which they call silliness, is ignominiously thrust into exile by them, and temperance, which they nickname unmanliness, is trampled in the mire and cast forth; they persuade men that moderation and orderly expenditure are vulgarity and meanness, and so, by the help of a rabble of evil appetites, they drive them beyond the border. yes, with a will. and when they have emptied and swept clean the soul of him who is now in their power and who is being initiated by them in great mysteries, the next thing is to bring back to their house insolence and anarchy and waste and impudence in bright array having garlands on their heads, and a great company with them, hymning their praises and calling them by sweet names; insolence they term breeding, and anarchy liberty, and waste magnificence, and impudence courage. and so the young man passes out of his original nature, which was trained in the school of necessity, into the freedom and libertinism of useless and unnecessary pleasures. yes, he said, the change in him is visible enough. after this he lives on, spending his money and labour and time on unnecessary pleasures quite as much as on necessary ones; but if he be fortunate, and is not too much disordered in his wits, when years have elapsed, and the heyday of passion is over--supposing that he then re-admits into the city some part of the exiled virtues, and does not wholly give himself up to their successors--in that case he balances his pleasures and lives in a sort of equilibrium, putting the government of himself into the hands of the one which comes first and wins the turn; and when he has had enough of that, then into the hands of another; he despises none of them but encourages them all equally. very true, he said. neither does he receive or let pass into the fortress any true word of advice; if any one says to him that some pleasures are the satisfactions of good and noble desires, and others of evil desires, and that he ought to use and honour some and chastise and master the others--whenever this is repeated to him he shakes his head and says that they are all alike, and that one is as good as another. yes, he said; that is the way with him. yes, i said, he lives from day to day indulging the appetite of the hour; and sometimes he is lapped in drink and strains of the flute; then he becomes a water-drinker, and tries to get thin; then he takes a turn at gymnastics; sometimes idling and neglecting everything, then once more living the life of a philosopher; often he-is busy with politics, and starts to his feet and says and does whatever comes into his head; and, if he is emulous of any one who is a warrior, off he is in that direction, or of men of business, once more in that. his life has neither law nor order; and this distracted existence he terms joy and bliss and freedom; and so he goes on. yes, he replied, he is all liberty and equality. yes, i said; his life is motley and manifold and an epitome of the lives of many;--he answers to the state which we described as fair and spangled. and many a man and many a woman will take him for their pattern, and many a constitution and many an example of manners is contained in him. just so. let him then be set over against democracy; he may truly be called the democratic man. let that be his place, he said. last of all comes the most beautiful of all, man and state alike, tyranny and the tyrant; these we have now to consider. quite true, he said. say then, my friend, in what manner does tyranny arise?--that it has a democratic origin is evident. clearly. and does not tyranny spring from democracy in the same manner as democracy from oligarchy--i mean, after a sort? how? the good which oligarchy proposed to itself and the means by which it was maintained was excess of wealth--am i not right? yes. and the insatiable desire of wealth and the neglect of all other things for the sake of money-getting was also the ruin of oligarchy? true. and democracy has her own good, of which the insatiable desire brings her to dissolution? what good? freedom, i replied; which, as they tell you in a democracy, is the glory of the state--and that therefore in a democracy alone will the freeman of nature deign to dwell. yes; the saying is in everybody's mouth. i was going to observe, that the insatiable desire of this and the neglect of other things introduces the change in democracy, which occasions a demand for tyranny. how so? when a democracy which is thirsting for freedom has evil cupbearers presiding over the feast, and has drunk too deeply of the strong wine of freedom, then, unless her rulers are very amenable and give a plentiful draught, she calls them to account and punishes them, and says that they are cursed oligarchs. yes, he replied, a very common occurrence. yes, i said; and loyal citizens are insultingly termed by her slaves who hug their chains and men of naught; she would have subjects who are like rulers, and rulers who are like subjects: these are men after her own heart, whom she praises and honours both in private and public. now, in such a state, can liberty have any limit? certainly not. by degrees the anarchy finds a way into private houses, and ends by getting among the animals and infecting them. how do you mean? i mean that the father grows accustomed to descend to the level of his sons and to fear them, and the son is on a level with his father, he having no respect or reverence for either of his parents; and this is his freedom, and metic is equal with the citizen and the citizen with the metic, and the stranger is quite as good as either. yes, he said, that is the way. and these are not the only evils, i said--there are several lesser ones: in such a state of society the master fears and flatters his scholars, and the scholars despise their masters and tutors; young and old are all alike; and the young man is on a level with the old, and is ready to compete with him in word or deed; and old men condescend to the young and are full of pleasantry and gaiety; they are loth to be thought morose and authoritative, and therefore they adopt the manners of the young. quite true, he said. the last extreme of popular liberty is when the slave bought with money, whether male or female, is just as free as his or her purchaser; nor must i forget to tell of the liberty and equality of the two sexes in relation to each other. why not, as aeschylus says, utter the word which rises to our lips? that is what i am doing, i replied; and i must add that no one who does not know would believe, how much greater is the liberty which the animals who are under the dominion of man have in a democracy than in any other state: for truly, the she-dogs, as the proverb says, are as good as their she-mistresses, and the horses and asses have a way of marching along with all the rights and dignities of freemen; and they will run at anybody who comes in their way if he does not leave the road clear for them: and all things are just ready to burst with liberty. when i take a country walk, he said, i often experience what you describe. you and i have dreamed the same thing. and above all, i said, and as the result of all, see how sensitive the citizens become; they chafe impatiently at the least touch of authority and at length, as you know, they cease to care even for the laws, written or unwritten; they will have no one over them. yes, he said, i know it too well. such, my friend, i said, is the fair and glorious beginning out of which springs tyranny. glorious indeed, he said. but what is the next step? the ruin of oligarchy is the ruin of democracy; the same disease magnified and intensified by liberty overmasters democracy--the truth being that the excessive increase of anything often causes a reaction in the opposite direction; and this is the case not only in the seasons and in vegetable and animal life, but above all in forms of government. true. the excess of liberty, whether in states or individuals, seems only to pass into excess of slavery. yes, the natural order. and so tyranny naturally arises out of democracy, and the most aggravated form of tyranny and slavery out of the most extreme form of liberty? as we might expect. that, however, was not, as i believe, your question-you rather desired to know what is that disorder which is generated alike in oligarchy and democracy, and is the ruin of both? just so, he replied. well, i said, i meant to refer to the class of idle spendthrifts, of whom the more courageous are the-leaders and the more timid the followers, the same whom we were comparing to drones, some stingless, and others having stings. a very just comparison. these two classes are the plagues of every city in which they are generated, being what phlegm and bile are to the body. and the good physician and lawgiver of the state ought, like the wise bee-master, to keep them at a distance and prevent, if possible, their ever coming in; and if they have anyhow found a way in, then he should have them and their cells cut out as speedily as possible. yes, by all means, he said. then, in order that we may see clearly what we are doing, let us imagine democracy to be divided, as indeed it is, into three classes; for in the first place freedom creates rather more drones in the democratic than there were in the oligarchical state. that is true. and in the democracy they are certainly more intensified. how so? because in the oligarchical state they are disqualified and driven from office, and therefore they cannot train or gather strength; whereas in a democracy they are almost the entire ruling power, and while the keener sort speak and act, the rest keep buzzing about the bema and do not suffer a word to be said on the other side; hence in democracies almost everything is managed by the drones. very true, he said. then there is another class which is always being severed from the mass. what is that? they are the orderly class, which in a nation of traders sure to be the richest. naturally so. they are the most squeezable persons and yield the largest amount of honey to the drones. why, he said, there is little to be squeezed out of people who have little. and this is called the wealthy class, and the drones feed upon them. that is pretty much the case, he said. the people are a third class, consisting of those who work with their own hands; they are not politicians, and have not much to live upon. this, when assembled, is the largest and most powerful class in a democracy. true, he said; but then the multitude is seldom willing to congregate unless they get a little honey. and do they not share? i said. do not their leaders deprive the rich of their estates and distribute them among the people; at the same time taking care to reserve the larger part for themselves? why, yes, he said, to that extent the people do share. and the persons whose property is taken from them are compelled to defend themselves before the people as they best can? what else can they do? and then, although they may have no desire of change, the others charge them with plotting against the people and being friends of oligarchy? true. and the end is that when they see the people, not of their own accord, but through ignorance, and because they are deceived by informers, seeking to do them wrong, then at last they are forced to become oligarchs in reality; they do not wish to be, but the sting of the drones torments them and breeds revolution in them. that is exactly the truth. then come impeachments and judgments and trials of one another. true. the people have always some champion whom they set over them and nurse into greatness. yes, that is their way. this and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he first appears above ground he is a protector. yes, that is quite clear. how then does a protector begin to change into a tyrant? clearly when he does what the man is said to do in the tale of the arcadian temple of lycaean zeus. what tale? the tale is that he who has tasted the entrails of a single human victim minced up with the entrails of other victims is destined to become a wolf. did you never hear it? oh, yes. and the protector of the people is like him; having a mob entirely at his disposal, he is not restrained from shedding the blood of kinsmen; by the favourite method of false accusation he brings them into court and murders them, making the life of man to disappear, and with unholy tongue and lips tasting the blood of his fellow citizen; some he kills and others he banishes, at the same time hinting at the abolition of debts and partition of lands: and after this, what will be his destiny? must he not either perish at the hands of his enemies, or from being a man become a wolf--that is, a tyrant? inevitably. this, i said, is he who begins to make a party against the rich? the same. after a while he is driven out, but comes back, in spite of his enemies, a tyrant full grown. that is clear. and if they are unable to expel him, or to get him condemned to death by a public accusation, they conspire to assassinate him. yes, he said, that is their usual way. then comes the famous request for a bodyguard, which is the device of all those who have got thus far in their tyrannical career--'let not the people's friend,' as they say, 'be lost to them.' exactly. the people readily assent; all their fears are for him--they have none for themselves. very true. and when a man who is wealthy and is also accused of being an enemy of the people sees this, then, my friend, as the oracle said to croesus, by pebbly hermus' shore he flees and rests not and is not ashamed to be a coward. and quite right too, said he, for if he were, he would never be ashamed again. but if he is caught he dies. of course. and he, the protector of whom we spoke, is to be seen, not 'larding the plain' with his bulk, but himself the overthrower of many, standing up in the chariot of state with the reins in his hand, no longer protector, but tyrant absolute. no doubt, he said. and now let us consider the happiness of the man, and also of the state in which a creature like him is generated. yes, he said, let us consider that. at first, in the early days of his power, he is full of smiles, and he salutes every one whom he meets;--he to be called a tyrant, who is making promises in public and also in private! liberating debtors, and distributing land to the people and his followers, and wanting to be so kind and good to every one! of course, he said. but when he has disposed of foreign enemies by conquest or treaty, and there is nothing to fear from them, then he is always stirring up some war or other, in order that the people may require a leader. to be sure. has he not also another object, which is that they may be impoverished by payment of taxes, and thus compelled to devote themselves to their daily wants and therefore less likely to conspire against him? clearly. and if any of them are suspected by him of having notions of freedom, and of resistance to his authority, he will have a good pretext for destroying them by placing them at the mercy of the enemy; and for all these reasons the tyrant must be always getting up a war. he must. now he begins to grow unpopular. a necessary result. then some of those who joined in setting him up, and who are in power, speak their minds to him and to one another, and the more courageous of them cast in his teeth what is being done. yes, that may be expected. and the tyrant, if he means to rule, must get rid of them; he cannot stop while he has a friend or an enemy who is good for anything. he cannot. and therefore he must look about him and see who is valiant, who is high-minded, who is wise, who is wealthy; happy man, he is the enemy of them all, and must seek occasion against them whether he will or no, until he has made a purgation of the state. yes, he said, and a rare purgation. yes, i said, not the sort of purgation which the physicians make of the body; for they take away the worse and leave the better part, but he does the reverse. if he is to rule, i suppose that he cannot help himself. what a blessed alternative, i said:--to be compelled to dwell only with the many bad, and to be by them hated, or not to live at all! yes, that is the alternative. and the more detestable his actions are to the citizens the more satellites and the greater devotion in them will he require? certainly. and who are the devoted band, and where will he procure them? they will flock to him, he said, of their own accord, if lie pays them. by the dog! i said, here are more drones, of every sort and from every land. yes, he said, there are. but will he not desire to get them on the spot? how do you mean? he will rob the citizens of their slaves; he will then set them free and enrol them in his bodyguard. to be sure, he said; and he will be able to trust them best of all. what a blessed creature, i said, must this tyrant be; he has put to death the others and has these for his trusted friends. yes, he said; they are quite of his sort. yes, i said, and these are the new citizens whom he has called into existence, who admire him and are his companions, while the good hate and avoid him. of course. verily, then, tragedy is a wise thing and euripides a great tragedian. why so? why, because he is the author of the pregnant saying, tyrants are wise by living with the wise; and he clearly meant to say that they are the wise whom the tyrant makes his companions. yes, he said, and he also praises tyranny as godlike; and many other things of the same kind are said by him and by the other poets. and therefore, i said, the tragic poets being wise men will forgive us and any others who live after our manner if we do not receive them into our state, because they are the eulogists of tyranny. yes, he said, those who have the wit will doubtless forgive us. but they will continue to go to other cities and attract mobs, and hire voices fair and loud and persuasive, and draw the cities over to tyrannies and democracies. very true. moreover, they are paid for this and receive honour--the greatest honour, as might be expected, from tyrants, and the next greatest from democracies; but the higher they ascend our constitution hill, the more their reputation fails, and seems unable from shortness of breath to proceed further. true. but we are wandering from the subject: let us therefore return and enquire how the tyrant will maintain that fair and numerous and various and ever-changing army of his. if, he said, there are sacred treasures in the city, he will confiscate and spend them; and in so far as the fortunes of attainted persons may suffice, he will be able to diminish the taxes which he would otherwise have to impose upon the people. and when these fail? why, clearly, he said, then he and his boon companions, whether male or female, will be maintained out of his father's estate. you mean to say that the people, from whom he has derived his being, will maintain him and his companions? yes, he said; they cannot help themselves. but what if the people fly into a passion, and aver that a grown-up son ought not to be supported by his father, but that the father should be supported by the son? the father did not bring him into being, or settle him in life, in order that when his son became a man he should himself be the servant of his own servants and should support him and his rabble of slaves and companions; but that his son should protect him, and that by his help he might be emancipated from the government of the rich and aristocratic, as they are termed. and so he bids him and his companions depart, just as any other father might drive out of the house a riotous son and his undesirable associates. by heaven, he said, then the parent will discover what a monster he has been fostering in his bosom; and, when he wants to drive him out, he will find that he is weak and his son strong. why, you do not mean to say that the tyrant will use violence? what! beat his father if he opposes him? yes, he will, having first disarmed him. then he is a parricide, and a cruel guardian of an aged parent; and this is real tyranny, about which there can be no longer a mistake: as the saying is, the people who would escape the smoke which is the slavery of freemen, has fallen into the fire which is the tyranny of slaves. thus liberty, getting out of all order and reason, passes into the harshest and bitterest form of slavery. true, he said. very well; and may we not rightly say that we have sufficiently discussed the nature of tyranny, and the manner of the transition from democracy to tyranny? yes, quite enough, he said. book ix socrates - adeimantus last of all comes the tyrannical man; about whom we have once more to ask, how is he formed out of the democratical? and how does he live, in happiness or in misery? yes, he said, he is the only one remaining. there is, however, i said, a previous question which remains unanswered. what question? i do not think that we have adequately determined the nature and number of the appetites, and until this is accomplished the enquiry will always be confused. well, he said, it is not too late to supply the omission. very true, i said; and observe the point which i want to understand: certain of the unnecessary pleasures and appetites i conceive to be unlawful; every one appears to have them, but in some persons they are controlled by the laws and by reason, and the better desires prevail over them-either they are wholly banished or they become few and weak; while in the case of others they are stronger, and there are more of them. which appetites do you mean? i mean those which are awake when the reasoning and human and ruling power is asleep; then the wild beast within us, gorged with meat or drink, starts up and having shaken off sleep, goes forth to satisfy his desires; and there is no conceivable folly or crime--not excepting incest or any other unnatural union, or parricide, or the eating of forbidden food--which at such a time, when he has parted company with all shame and sense, a man may not be ready to commit. most true, he said. but when a man's pulse is healthy and temperate, and when before going to sleep he has awakened his rational powers, and fed them on noble thoughts and enquiries, collecting himself in meditation; after having first indulged his appetites neither too much nor too little, but just enough to lay them to sleep, and prevent them and their enjoyments and pains from interfering with the higher principle--which he leaves in the solitude of pure abstraction, free to contemplate and aspire to the knowledge of the unknown, whether in past, present, or future: when again he has allayed the passionate element, if he has a quarrel against any one--i say, when, after pacifying the two irrational principles, he rouses up the third, which is reason, before he takes his rest, then, as you know, he attains truth most nearly, and is least likely to be the sport of fantastic and lawless visions. i quite agree. in saying this i have been running into a digression; but the point which i desire to note is that in all of us, even in good men, there is a lawless wild-beast nature, which peers out in sleep. pray, consider whether i am right, and you agree with me. yes, i agree. and now remember the character which we attributed to the democratic man. he was supposed from his youth upwards to have been trained under a miserly parent, who encouraged the saving appetites in him, but discountenanced the unnecessary, which aim only at amusement and ornament? true. and then he got into the company of a more refined, licentious sort of people, and taking to all their wanton ways rushed into the opposite extreme from an abhorrence of his father's meanness. at last, being a better man than his corruptors, he was drawn in both directions until he halted midway and led a life, not of vulgar and slavish passion, but of what he deemed moderate indulgence in various pleasures. after this manner the democrat was generated out of the oligarch? yes, he said; that was our view of him, and is so still. and now, i said, years will have passed away, and you must conceive this man, such as he is, to have a son, who is brought up in his father's principles. i can imagine him. then you must further imagine the same thing to happen to the son which has already happened to the father:--he is drawn into a perfectly lawless life, which by his seducers is termed perfect liberty; and his father and friends take part with his moderate desires, and the opposite party assist the opposite ones. as soon as these dire magicians and tyrant-makers find that they are losing their hold on him, they contrive to implant in him a master passion, to be lord over his idle and spendthrift lusts--a sort of monstrous winged drone--that is the only image which will adequately describe him. yes, he said, that is the only adequate image of him. and when his other lusts, amid clouds of incense and perfumes and garlands and wines, and all the pleasures of a dissolute life, now let loose, come buzzing around him, nourishing to the utmost the sting of desire which they implant in his drone-like nature, then at last this lord of the soul, having madness for the captain of his guard, breaks out into a frenzy: and if he finds in himself any good opinions or appetites in process of formation, and there is in him any sense of shame remaining, to these better principles he puts an end, and casts them forth until he has purged away temperance and brought in madness to the full. yes, he said, that is the way in which the tyrannical man is generated. and is not this the reason why of old love has been called a tyrant? i should not wonder. further, i said, has not a drunken man also the spirit of a tyrant? he has. and you know that a man who is deranged and not right in his mind, will fancy that he is able to rule, not only over men, but also over the gods? that he will. and the tyrannical man in the true sense of the word comes into being when, either under the influence of nature, or habit, or both, he becomes drunken, lustful, passionate? o my friend, is not that so? assuredly. such is the man and such is his origin. and next, how does he live? suppose, as people facetiously say, you were to tell me. i imagine, i said, at the next step in his progress, that there will be feasts and carousals and revellings and courtezans, and all that sort of thing; love is the lord of the house within him, and orders all the concerns of his soul. that is certain. yes; and every day and every night desires grow up many and formidable, and their demands are many. they are indeed, he said. his revenues, if he has any, are soon spent. true. then comes debt and the cutting down of his property. of course. when he has nothing left, must not his desires, crowding in the nest like young ravens, be crying aloud for food; and he, goaded on by them, and especially by love himself, who is in a manner the captain of them, is in a frenzy, and would fain discover whom he can defraud or despoil of his property, in order that he may gratify them? yes, that is sure to be the case. he must have money, no matter how, if he is to escape horrid pains and pangs. he must. and as in himself there was a succession of pleasures, and the new got the better of the old and took away their rights, so he being younger will claim to have more than his father and his mother, and if he has spent his own share of the property, he will take a slice of theirs. no doubt he will. and if his parents will not give way, then he will try first of all to cheat and deceive them. very true. and if he fails, then he will use force and plunder them. yes, probably. and if the old man and woman fight for their own, what then, my friend? will the creature feel any compunction at tyrannizing over them? nay, he said, i should not feel at all comfortable about his parents. but, o heavens! adeimantus, on account of some newfangled love of a harlot, who is anything but a necessary connection, can you believe that he would strike the mother who is his ancient friend and necessary to his very existence, and would place her under the authority of the other, when she is brought under the same roof with her; or that, under like circumstances, he would do the same to his withered old father, first and most indispensable of friends, for the sake of some newly found blooming youth who is the reverse of indispensable? yes, indeed, he said; i believe that he would. truly, then, i said, a tyrannical son is a blessing to his father and mother. he is indeed, he replied. he first takes their property, and when that falls, and pleasures are beginning to swarm in the hive of his soul, then he breaks into a house, or steals the garments of some nightly wayfarer; next he proceeds to clear a temple. meanwhile the old opinions which he had when a child, and which gave judgment about good and evil, are overthrown by those others which have just been emancipated, and are now the bodyguard of love and share his empire. these in his democratic days, when he was still subject to the laws and to his father, were only let loose in the dreams of sleep. but now that he is under the dominion of love, he becomes always and in waking reality what he was then very rarely and in a dream only; he will commit the foulest murder, or eat forbidden food, or be guilty of any other horrid act. love is his tyrant, and lives lordly in him and lawlessly, and being himself a king, leads him on, as a tyrant leads a state, to the performance of any reckless deed by which he can maintain himself and the rabble of his associates, whether those whom evil communications have brought in from without, or those whom he himself has allowed to break loose within him by reason of a similar evil nature in himself. have we not here a picture of his way of life? yes, indeed, he said. and if there are only a few of them in the state, the rest of the people are well disposed, they go away and become the bodyguard or mercenary soldiers of some other tyrant who may probably want them for a war; and if there is no war, they stay at home and do many little pieces of mischief in the city. what sort of mischief? for example, they are the thieves, burglars, cutpurses, footpads, robbers of temples, man-stealers of the community; or if they are able to speak they turn informers, and bear false witness, and take bribes. a small catalogue of evils, even if the perpetrators of them are few in number. yes, i said; but small and great are comparative terms, and all these things, in the misery and evil which they inflict upon a state, do not come within a thousand miles of the tyrant; when this noxious class and their followers grow numerous and become conscious of their strength, assisted by the infatuation of the people, they choose from among themselves the one who has most of the tyrant in his own soul, and him they create their tyrant. yes, he said, and he will be the most fit to be a tyrant. if the people yield, well and good; but if they resist him, as he began by beating his own father and mother, so now, if he has the power, he beats them, and will keep his dear old fatherland or motherland, as the cretans say, in subjection to his young retainers whom he has introduced to be their rulers and masters. this is the end of his passions and desires. exactly. when such men are only private individuals and before they get power, this is their character; they associate entirely with their own flatterers or ready tools; or if they want anything from anybody, they in their turn are equally ready to bow down before them: they profess every sort of affection for them; but when they have gained their point they know them no more. yes, truly. they are always either the masters or servants and never the friends of anybody; the tyrant never tastes of true freedom or friendship. certainly not. and may we not rightly call such men treacherous? no question. also they are utterly unjust, if we were right in our notion of justice? yes, he said, and we were perfectly right. let us then sum up in a word, i said, the character of the worst man: he is the waking reality of what we dreamed. most true. and this is he who being by nature most of a tyrant bears rule, and the longer he lives the more of a tyrant he becomes. socrates - glaucon that is certain, said glaucon, taking his turn to answer. and will not he who has been shown to be the wickedest, be also the most miserable? and he who has tyrannized longest and most, most continually and truly miserable; although this may not be the opinion of men in general? yes, he said, inevitably. and must not the tyrannical man be like the tyrannical, state, and the democratical man like the democratical state; and the same of the others? certainly. and as state is to state in virtue and happiness, so is man in relation to man? to be sure. then comparing our original city, which was under a king, and the city which is under a tyrant, how do they stand as to virtue? they are the opposite extremes, he said, for one is the very best and the other is the very worst. there can be no mistake, i said, as to which is which, and therefore i will at once enquire whether you would arrive at a similar decision about their relative happiness and misery. and here we must not allow ourselves to be panic-stricken at the apparition of the tyrant, who is only a unit and may perhaps have a few retainers about him; but let us go as we ought into every corner of the city and look all about, and then we will give our opinion. a fair invitation, he replied; and i see, as every one must, that a tyranny is the wretchedest form of government, and the rule of a king the happiest. and in estimating the men too, may i not fairly make a like request, that i should have a judge whose mind can enter into and see through human nature? he must not be like a child who looks at the outside and is dazzled at the pompous aspect which the tyrannical nature assumes to the beholder, but let him be one who has a clear insight. may i suppose that the judgment is given in the hearing of us all by one who is able to judge, and has dwelt in the same place with him, and been present at his dally life and known him in his family relations, where he may be seen stripped of his tragedy attire, and again in the hour of public danger--he shall tell us about the happiness and misery of the tyrant when compared with other men? that again, he said, is a very fair proposal. shall i assume that we ourselves are able and experienced judges and have before now met with such a person? we shall then have some one who will answer our enquiries. by all means. let me ask you not to forget the parallel of the individual and the state; bearing this in mind, and glancing in turn from one to the other of them, will you tell me their respective conditions? what do you mean? he asked. beginning with the state, i replied, would you say that a city which is governed by a tyrant is free or enslaved? no city, he said, can be more completely enslaved. and yet, as you see, there are freemen as well as masters in such a state? yes, he said, i see that there are--a few; but the people, speaking generally, and the best of them, are miserably degraded and enslaved. then if the man is like the state, i said, must not the same rule prevail? his soul is full of meanness and vulgarity--the best elements in him are enslaved; and there is a small ruling part, which is also the worst and maddest. inevitably. and would you say that the soul of such an one is the soul of a freeman, or of a slave? he has the soul of a slave, in my opinion. and the state which is enslaved under a tyrant is utterly incapable of acting voluntarily? utterly incapable. and also the soul which is under a tyrant (i am speaking of the soul taken as a whole) is least capable of doing what she desires; there is a gadfly which goads her, and she is full of trouble and remorse? certainly. and is the city which is under a tyrant rich or poor? poor. and the tyrannical soul must be always poor and insatiable? true. and must not such a state and such a man be always full of fear? yes, indeed. is there any state in which you will find more of lamentation and sorrow and groaning and pain? certainly not. and is there any man in whom you will find more of this sort of misery than in the tyrannical man, who is in a fury of passions and desires? impossible. reflecting upon these and similar evils, you held the tyrannical state to be the most miserable of states? and i was right, he said. certainly, i said. and when you see the same evils in the tyrannical man, what do you say of him? i say that he is by far the most miserable of all men. there, i said, i think that you are beginning to go wrong. what do you mean? i do not think that he has as yet reached the utmost extreme of misery. then who is more miserable? one of whom i am about to speak. who is that? he who is of a tyrannical nature, and instead of leading a private life has been cursed with the further misfortune of being a public tyrant. from what has been said, i gather that you are right. yes, i replied, but in this high argument you should be a little more certain, and should not conjecture only; for of all questions, this respecting good and evil is the greatest. very true, he said. let me then offer you an illustration, which may, i think, throw a light upon this subject. what is your illustration? the case of rich individuals in cities who possess many slaves: from them you may form an idea of the tyrant's condition, for they both have slaves; the only difference is that he has more slaves. yes, that is the difference. you know that they live securely and have nothing to apprehend from their servants? what should they fear? nothing. but do you observe the reason of this? yes; the reason is, that the whole city is leagued together for the protection of each individual. very true, i said. but imagine one of these owners, the master say of some fifty slaves, together with his family and property and slaves, carried off by a god into the wilderness, where there are no freemen to help him--will he not be in an agony of fear lest he and his wife and children should be put to death by his slaves? yes, he said, he will be in the utmost fear. the time has arrived when he will be compelled to flatter divers of his slaves, and make many promises to them of freedom and other things, much against his will--he will have to cajole his own servants. yes, he said, that will be the only way of saving himself. and suppose the same god, who carried him away, to surround him with neighbours who will not suffer one man to be the master of another, and who, if they could catch the offender, would take his life? his case will be still worse, if you suppose him to be everywhere surrounded and watched by enemies. and is not this the sort of prison in which the tyrant will be bound--he who being by nature such as we have described, is full of all sorts of fears and lusts? his soul is dainty and greedy, and yet alone, of all men in the city, he is never allowed to go on a journey, or to see the things which other freemen desire to see, but he lives in his hole like a woman hidden in the house, and is jealous of any other citizen who goes into foreign parts and sees anything of interest. very true, he said. and amid evils such as these will not he who is ill-governed in his own person--the tyrannical man, i mean--whom you just now decided to be the most miserable of all--will not he be yet more miserable when, instead of leading a private life, he is constrained by fortune to be a public tyrant? he has to be master of others when he is not master of himself: he is like a diseased or paralytic man who is compelled to pass his life, not in retirement, but fighting and combating with other men. yes, he said, the similitude is most exact. is not his case utterly miserable? and does not the actual tyrant lead a worse life than he whose life you determined to be the worst? certainly. he who is the real tyrant, whatever men may think, is the real slave, and is obliged to practise the greatest adulation and servility, and to be the flatterer of the vilest of mankind. he has desires which he is utterly unable to satisfy, and has more wants than any one, and is truly poor, if you know how to inspect the whole soul of him: all his life long he is beset with fear and is full of convulsions, and distractions, even as the state which he resembles: and surely the resemblance holds? very true, he said. moreover, as we were saying before, he grows worse from having power: he becomes and is of necessity more jealous, more faithless, more unjust, more friendless, more impious, than he was at first; he is the purveyor and cherisher of every sort of vice, and the consequence is that he is supremely miserable, and that he makes everybody else as miserable as himself. no man of any sense will dispute your words. come then, i said, and as the general umpire in theatrical contests proclaims the result, do you also decide who in your opinion is first in the scale of happiness, and who second, and in what order the others follow: there are five of them in all--they are the royal, timocratical, oligarchical, democratical, tyrannical. the decision will be easily given, he replied; they shall be choruses coming on the stage, and i must judge them in the order in which they enter, by the criterion of virtue and vice, happiness and misery. need we hire a herald, or shall i announce, that the son of ariston (the best) has decided that the best and justest is also the happiest, and that this is he who is the most royal man and king over himself; and that the worst and most unjust man is also the most miserable, and that this is he who being the greatest tyrant of himself is also the greatest tyrant of his state? make the proclamation yourself, he said. and shall i add, 'whether seen or unseen by gods and men'? let the words be added. then this, i said, will be our first proof; and there is another, which may also have some weight. what is that? the second proof is derived from the nature of the soul: seeing that the individual soul, like the state, has been divided by us into three principles, the division may, i think, furnish a new demonstration. of what nature? it seems to me that to these three principles three pleasures correspond; also three desires and governing powers. how do you mean? he said. there is one principle with which, as we were saying, a man learns, another with which he is angry; the third, having many forms, has no special name, but is denoted by the general term appetitive, from the extraordinary strength and vehemence of the desires of eating and drinking and the other sensual appetites which are the main elements of it; also money-loving, because such desires are generally satisfied by the help of money. that is true, he said. if we were to say that the loves and pleasures of this third part were concerned with gain, we should then be able to fall back on a single notion; and might truly and intelligibly describe this part of the soul as loving gain or money. i agree with you. again, is not the passionate element wholly set on ruling and conquering and getting fame? true. suppose we call it the contentious or ambitious--would the term be suitable? extremely suitable. on the other hand, every one sees that the principle of knowledge is wholly directed to the truth, and cares less than either of the others for gain or fame. far less. 'lover of wisdom,' 'lover of knowledge,' are titles which we may fitly apply to that part of the soul? certainly. one principle prevails in the souls of one class of men, another in others, as may happen? yes. then we may begin by assuming that there are three classes of men--lovers of wisdom, lovers of honour, lovers of gain? exactly. and there are three kinds of pleasure, which are their several objects? very true. now, if you examine the three classes of men, and ask of them in turn which of their lives is pleasantest, each will be found praising his own and depreciating that of others: the money-maker will contrast the vanity of honour or of learning if they bring no money with the solid advantages of gold and silver? true, he said. and the lover of honour--what will be his opinion? will he not think that the pleasure of riches is vulgar, while the pleasure of learning, if it brings no distinction, is all smoke and nonsense to him? very true. and are we to suppose, i said, that the philosopher sets any value on other pleasures in comparison with the pleasure of knowing the truth, and in that pursuit abiding, ever learning, not so far indeed from the heaven of pleasure? does he not call the other pleasures necessary, under the idea that if there were no necessity for them, he would rather not have them? there can be no doubt of that, he replied. since, then, the pleasures of each class and the life of each are in dispute, and the question is not which life is more or less honourable, or better or worse, but which is the more pleasant or painless--how shall we know who speaks truly? i cannot myself tell, he said. well, but what ought to be the criterion? is any better than experience and wisdom and reason? there cannot be a better, he said. then, i said, reflect. of the three individuals, which has the greatest experience of all the pleasures which we enumerated? has the lover of gain, in learning the nature of essential truth, greater experience of the pleasure of knowledge than the philosopher has of the pleasure of gain? the philosopher, he replied, has greatly the advantage; for he has of necessity always known the taste of the other pleasures from his childhood upwards: but the lover of gain in all his experience has not of necessity tasted--or, i should rather say, even had he desired, could hardly have tasted--the sweetness of learning and knowing truth. then the lover of wisdom has a great advantage over the lover of gain, for he has a double experience? yes, very great. again, has he greater experience of the pleasures of honour, or the lover of honour of the pleasures of wisdom? nay, he said, all three are honoured in proportion as they attain their object; for the rich man and the brave man and the wise man alike have their crowd of admirers, and as they all receive honour they all have experience of the pleasures of honour; but the delight which is to be found in the knowledge of true being is known to the philosopher only. his experience, then, will enable him to judge better than any one? far better. and he is the only one who has wisdom as well as experience? certainly. further, the very faculty which is the instrument of judgment is not possessed by the covetous or ambitious man, but only by the philosopher? what faculty? reason, with whom, as we were saying, the decision ought to rest. yes. and reasoning is peculiarly his instrument? certainly. if wealth and gain were the criterion, then the praise or blame of the lover of gain would surely be the most trustworthy? assuredly. or if honour or victory or courage, in that case the judgement of the ambitious or pugnacious would be the truest? clearly. but since experience and wisdom and reason are the judges-- the only inference possible, he replied, is that pleasures which are approved by the lover of wisdom and reason are the truest. and so we arrive at the result, that the pleasure of the intelligent part of the soul is the pleasantest of the three, and that he of us in whom this is the ruling principle has the pleasantest life. unquestionably, he said, the wise man speaks with authority when he approves of his own life. and what does the judge affirm to be the life which is next, and the pleasure which is next? clearly that of the soldier and lover of honour; who is nearer to himself than the money-maker. last comes the lover of gain? very true, he said. twice in succession, then, has the just man overthrown the unjust in this conflict; and now comes the third trial, which is dedicated to olympian zeus the saviour: a sage whispers in my ear that no pleasure except that of the wise is quite true and pure--all others are a shadow only; and surely this will prove the greatest and most decisive of falls? yes, the greatest; but will you explain yourself? i will work out the subject and you shall answer my questions. proceed. say, then, is not pleasure opposed to pain? true. and there is a neutral state which is neither pleasure nor pain? there is. a state which is intermediate, and a sort of repose of the soul about either--that is what you mean? yes. you remember what people say when they are sick? what do they say? that after all nothing is pleasanter than health. but then they never knew this to be the greatest of pleasures until they were ill. yes, i know, he said. and when persons are suffering from acute pain, you must. have heard them say that there is nothing pleasanter than to get rid of their pain? i have. and there are many other cases of suffering in which the mere rest and cessation of pain, and not any positive enjoyment, is extolled by them as the greatest pleasure? yes, he said; at the time they are pleased and well content to be at rest. again, when pleasure ceases, that sort of rest or cessation will be painful? doubtless, he said. then the intermediate state of rest will be pleasure and will also be pain? so it would seem. but can that which is neither become both? i should say not. and both pleasure and pain are motions of the soul, are they not? yes. but that which is neither was just now shown to be rest and not motion, and in a mean between them? yes. how, then, can we be right in supposing that the absence of pain is pleasure, or that the absence of pleasure is pain? impossible. this then is an appearance only and not a reality; that is to say, the rest is pleasure at the moment and in comparison of what is painful, and painful in comparison of what is pleasant; but all these representations, when tried by the test of true pleasure, are not real but a sort of imposition? that is the inference. look at the other class of pleasures which have no antecedent pains and you will no longer suppose, as you perhaps may at present, that pleasure is only the cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure. what are they, he said, and where shall i find them? there are many of them: take as an example the pleasures, of smell, which are very great and have no antecedent pains; they come in a moment, and when they depart leave no pain behind them. most true, he said. let us not, then, be induced to believe that pure pleasure is the cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure. no. still, the more numerous and violent pleasures which reach the soul through the body are generally of this sort--they are reliefs of pain. that is true. and the anticipations of future pleasures and pains are of a like nature? yes. shall i give you an illustration of them? let me hear. you would allow, i said, that there is in nature an upper and lower and middle region? i should. and if a person were to go from the lower to the middle region, would he not imagine that he is going up; and he who is standing in the middle and sees whence he has come, would imagine that he is already in the upper region, if he has never seen the true upper world? to be sure, he said; how can he think otherwise? but if he were taken back again he would imagine, and truly imagine, that he was descending? no doubt. all that would arise out of his ignorance of the true upper and middle and lower regions? yes. then can you wonder that persons who are inexperienced in the truth, as they have wrong ideas about many other things, should also have wrong ideas about pleasure and pain and the intermediate state; so that when they are only being drawn towards the painful they feel pain and think the pain which they experience to be real, and in like manner, when drawn away from pain to the neutral or intermediate state, they firmly believe that they have reached the goal of satiety and pleasure; they, not knowing pleasure, err in contrasting pain with the absence of pain, which is like contrasting black with grey instead of white--can you wonder, i say, at this? no, indeed; i should be much more disposed to wonder at the opposite. look at the matter thus:--hunger, thirst, and the like, are inanitions of the bodily state? yes. and ignorance and folly are inanitions of the soul? true. and food and wisdom are the corresponding satisfactions of either? certainly. and is the satisfaction derived from that which has less or from that which has more existence the truer? clearly, from that which has more. what classes of things have a greater share of pure existence in your judgment--those of which food and drink and condiments and all kinds of sustenance are examples, or the class which contains true opinion and knowledge and mind and all the different kinds of virtue? put the question in this way:--which has a more pure being--that which is concerned with the invariable, the immortal, and the true, and is of such a nature, and is found in such natures; or that which is concerned with and found in the variable and mortal, and is itself variable and mortal? far purer, he replied, is the being of that which is concerned with the invariable. and does the essence of the invariable partake of knowledge in the same degree as of essence? yes, of knowledge in the same degree. and of truth in the same degree? yes. and, conversely, that which has less of truth will also have less of essence? necessarily. then, in general, those kinds of things which are in the service of the body have less of truth and essence than those which are in the service of the soul? far less. and has not the body itself less of truth and essence than the soul? yes. what is filled with more real existence, and actually has a more real existence, is more really filled than that which is filled with less real existence and is less real? of course. and if there be a pleasure in being filled with that which is according to nature, that which is more really filled with more real being will more really and truly enjoy true pleasure; whereas that which participates in less real being will be less truly and surely satisfied, and will participate in an illusory and less real pleasure? unquestionably. those then who know not wisdom and virtue, and are always busy with gluttony and sensuality, go down and up again as far as the mean; and in this region they move at random throughout life, but they never pass into the true upper world; thither they neither look, nor do they ever find their way, neither are they truly filled with true being, nor do they taste of pure and abiding pleasure. like cattle, with their eyes always looking down and their heads stooping to the earth, that is, to the dining-table, they fatten and feed and breed, and, in their excessive love of these delights, they kick and butt at one another with horns and hoofs which are made of iron; and they kill one another by reason of their insatiable lust. for they fill themselves with that which is not substantial, and the part of themselves which they fill is also unsubstantial and incontinent. verily, socrates, said glaucon, you describe the life of the many like an oracle. their pleasures are mixed with pains--how can they be otherwise? for they are mere shadows and pictures of the true, and are coloured by contrast, which exaggerates both light and shade, and so they implant in the minds of fools insane desires of themselves; and they are fought about as stesichorus says that the greeks fought about the shadow of helen at troy in ignorance of the truth. something of that sort must inevitably happen. and must not the like happen with the spirited or passionate element of the soul? will not the passionate man who carries his passion into action, be in the like case, whether he is envious and ambitious, or violent and contentious, or angry and discontented, if he be seeking to attain honour and victory and the satisfaction of his anger without reason or sense? yes, he said, the same will happen with the spirited element also. then may we not confidently assert that the lovers of money and honour, when they seek their pleasures under the guidance and in the company of reason and knowledge, and pursue after and win the pleasures which wisdom shows them, will also have the truest pleasures in the highest degree which is attainable to them, inasmuch as they follow truth; and they will have the pleasures which are natural to them, if that which is best for each one is also most natural to him? yes, certainly; the best is the most natural. and when the whole soul follows the philosophical principle, and there is no division, the several parts are just, and do each of them their own business, and enjoy severally the best and truest pleasures of which they are capable? exactly. but when either of the two other principles prevails, it fails in attaining its own pleasure, and compels the rest to pursue after a pleasure which is a shadow only and which is not their own? true. and the greater the interval which separates them from philosophy and reason, the more strange and illusive will be the pleasure? yes. and is not that farthest from reason which is at the greatest distance from law and order? clearly. and the lustful and tyrannical desires are, as we saw, at the greatest distance? yes. and the royal and orderly desires are nearest? yes. then the tyrant will live at the greatest distance from true or natural pleasure, and the king at the least? certainly. but if so, the tyrant will live most unpleasantly, and the king most pleasantly? inevitably. would you know the measure of the interval which separates them? will you tell me? there appear to be three pleasures, one genuine and two spurious: now the transgression of the tyrant reaches a point beyond the spurious; he has run away from the region of law and reason, and taken up his abode with certain slave pleasures which are his satellites, and the measure of his inferiority can only be expressed in a figure. how do you mean? i assume, i said, that the tyrant is in the third place from the oligarch; the democrat was in the middle? yes. and if there is truth in what has preceded, he will be wedded to an image of pleasure which is thrice removed as to truth from the pleasure of the oligarch? he will. and the oligarch is third from the royal; since we count as one royal and aristocratical? yes, he is third. then the tyrant is removed from true pleasure by the space of a number which is three times three? manifestly. the shadow then of tyrannical pleasure determined by the number of length will be a plane figure. certainly. and if you raise the power and make the plane a solid, there is no difficulty in seeing how vast is the interval by which the tyrant is parted from the king. yes; the arithmetician will easily do the sum. or if some person begins at the other end and measures the interval by which the king is parted from the tyrant in truth of pleasure, he will find him, when the multiplication is complete, living times more pleasantly, and the tyrant more painfully by this same interval. what a wonderful calculation! and how enormous is the distance which separates the just from the unjust in regard to pleasure and pain! yet a true calculation, i said, and a number which nearly concerns human life, if human beings are concerned with days and nights and months and years. yes, he said, human life is certainly concerned with them. then if the good and just man be thus superior in pleasure to the evil and unjust, his superiority will be infinitely greater in propriety of life and in beauty and virtue? immeasurably greater. well, i said, and now having arrived at this stage of the argument, we may revert to the words which brought us hither: was not some one saying that injustice was a gain to the perfectly unjust who was reputed to be just? yes, that was said. now then, having determined the power and quality of justice and injustice, let us have a little conversation with him. what shall we say to him? let us make an image of the soul, that he may have his own words presented before his eyes. of what sort? an ideal image of the soul, like the composite creations of ancient mythology, such as the chimera or scylla or cerberus, and there are many others in which two or more different natures are said to grow into one. there are said of have been such unions. then do you now model the form of a multitudinous, many-headed monster, having a ring of heads of all manner of beasts, tame and wild, which he is able to generate and metamorphose at will. you suppose marvellous powers in the artist; but, as language is more pliable than wax or any similar substance, let there be such a model as you propose. suppose now that you make a second form as of a lion, and a third of a man, the second smaller than the first, and the third smaller than the second. that, he said, is an easier task; and i have made them as you say. and now join them, and let the three grow into one. that has been accomplished. next fashion the outside of them into a single image, as of a man, so that he who is not able to look within, and sees only the outer hull, may believe the beast to be a single human creature. i have done so, he said. and now, to him who maintains that it is profitable for the human creature to be unjust, and unprofitable to be just, let us reply that, if he be right, it is profitable for this creature to feast the multitudinous monster and strengthen the lion and the lion-like qualities, but to starve and weaken the man, who is consequently liable to be dragged about at the mercy of either of the other two; and he is not to attempt to familiarize or harmonize them with one another--he ought rather to suffer them to fight and bite and devour one another. certainly, he said; that is what the approver of injustice says. to him the supporter of justice makes answer that he should ever so speak and act as to give the man within him in some way or other the most complete mastery over the entire human creature. he should watch over the many-headed monster like a good husbandman, fostering and cultivating the gentle qualities, and preventing the wild ones from growing; he should be making the lion-heart his ally, and in common care of them all should be uniting the several parts with one another and with himself. yes, he said, that is quite what the maintainer of justice say. and so from every point of view, whether of pleasure, honour, or advantage, the approver of justice is right and speaks the truth, and the disapprover is wrong and false and ignorant. yes, from every point of view. come, now, and let us gently reason with the unjust, who is not intentionally in error. 'sweet sir,' we will say to him, what think you of things esteemed noble and ignoble? is not the noble that which subjects the beast to the man, or rather to the god in man; and the ignoble that which subjects the man to the beast?' he can hardly avoid saying yes--can he now? not if he has any regard for my opinion. but, if he agree so far, we may ask him to answer another question: 'then how would a man profit if he received gold and silver on the condition that he was to enslave the noblest part of him to the worst? who can imagine that a man who sold his son or daughter into slavery for money, especially if he sold them into the hands of fierce and evil men, would be the gainer, however large might be the sum which he received? and will any one say that he is not a miserable caitiff who remorselessly sells his own divine being to that which is most godless and detestable? eriphyle took the necklace as the price of her husband's life, but he is taking a bribe in order to compass a worse ruin.' yes, said glaucon, far worse--i will answer for him. has not the intemperate been censured of old, because in him the huge multiform monster is allowed to be too much at large? clearly. and men are blamed for pride and bad temper when the lion and serpent element in them disproportionately grows and gains strength? yes. and luxury and softness are blamed, because they relax and weaken this same creature, and make a coward of him? very true. and is not a man reproached for flattery and meanness who subordinates the spirited animal to the unruly monster, and, for the sake of money, of which he can never have enough, habituates him in the days of his youth to be trampled in the mire, and from being a lion to become a monkey? true, he said. and why are mean employments and manual arts a reproach only because they imply a natural weakness of the higher principle; the individual is unable to control the creatures within him, but has to court them, and his great study is how to flatter them. such appears to be the reason. and therefore, being desirous of placing him under a rule like that of the best, we say that he ought to be the servant of the best, in whom the divine rules; not, as thrasymachus supposed, to the injury of the servant, but because every one had better be ruled by divine wisdom dwelling within him; or, if this be impossible, then by an external authority, in order that we may be all, as far as possible, under the same government, friends and equals. true, he said. and this is clearly seen to be the intention of the law, which is the ally of the whole city; and is seen also in the authority which we exercise over children, and the refusal to let them be free until we have established in them a principle analogous to the constitution of a state, and by cultivation of this higher element have set up in their hearts a guardian and ruler like our own, and when this is done they may go their ways. yes, he said, the purpose of the law is manifest. from what point of view, then, and on what ground can we say that a man is profited by injustice or intemperance or other baseness, which will make him a worse man, even though he acquire money or power by his wickedness? from no point of view at all. what shall he profit, if his injustice be undetected and unpunished? he who is undetected only gets worse, whereas he who is detected and punished has the brutal part of his nature silenced and humanized; the gentler element in him is liberated, and his whole soul is perfected and ennobled by the acquirement of justice and temperance and wisdom, more than the body ever is by receiving gifts of beauty, strength and health, in proportion as the soul is more honourable than the body. certainly, he said. to this nobler purpose the man of understanding will devote the energies of his life. and in the first place, he will honour studies which impress these qualities on his soul and disregard others? clearly, he said. in the next place, he will regulate his bodily habit and training, and so far will he be from yielding to brutal and irrational pleasures, that he will regard even health as quite a secondary matter; his first object will be not that he may be fair or strong or well, unless he is likely thereby to gain temperance, but he will always desire so to attemper the body as to preserve the harmony of the soul? certainly he will, if he has true music in him. and in the acquisition of wealth there is a principle of order and harmony which he will also observe; he will not allow himself to be dazzled by the foolish applause of the world, and heap up riches to his own infinite harm? certainly not, he said. he will look at the city which is within him, and take heed that no disorder occur in it, such as might arise either from superfluity or from want; and upon this principle he will regulate his property and gain or spend according to his means. very true. and, for the same reason, he will gladly accept and enjoy such honours as he deems likely to make him a better man; but those, whether private or public, which are likely to disorder his life, he will avoid? then, if that is his motive, he will not be a statesman. by the dog of egypt, he will! in the city which is his own he certainly will, though in the land of his birth perhaps not, unless he have a divine call. i understand; you mean that he will be a ruler in the city of which we are the founders, and which exists in idea only; for i do not believe that there is such an one anywhere on earth? in heaven, i replied, there is laid up a pattern of it, methinks, which he who desires may behold, and beholding, may set his own house in order. but whether such an one exists, or ever will exist in fact, is no matter; for he will live after the manner of that city, having nothing to do with any other. i think so, he said. book x socrates - glaucon of the many excellences which i perceive in the order of our state, there is none which upon reflection pleases me better than the rule about poetry. to what do you refer? to the rejection of imitative poetry, which certainly ought not to be received; as i see far more clearly now that the parts of the soul have been distinguished. what do you mean? speaking in confidence, for i should not like to have my words repeated to the tragedians and the rest of the imitative tribe--but i do not mind saying to you, that all poetical imitations are ruinous to the understanding of the hearers, and that the knowledge of their true nature is the only antidote to them. explain the purport of your remark. well, i will tell you, although i have always from my earliest youth had an awe and love of homer, which even now makes the words falter on my lips, for he is the great captain and teacher of the whole of that charming tragic company; but a man is not to be reverenced more than the truth, and therefore i will speak out. very good, he said. listen to me then, or rather, answer me. put your question. can you tell me what imitation is? for i really do not know. a likely thing, then, that i should know. why not? for the duller eye may often see a thing sooner than the keener. very true, he said; but in your presence, even if i had any faint notion, i could not muster courage to utter it. will you enquire yourself? well then, shall we begin the enquiry in our usual manner: whenever a number of individuals have a common name, we assume them to have also a corresponding idea or form. do you understand me? i do. let us take any common instance; there are beds and tables in the world--plenty of them, are there not? yes. but there are only two ideas or forms of them--one the idea of a bed, the other of a table. true. and the maker of either of them makes a bed or he makes a table for our use, in accordance with the idea--that is our way of speaking in this and similar instances--but no artificer makes the ideas themselves: how could he? impossible. and there is another artist,--i should like to know what you would say of him. who is he? one who is the maker of all the works of all other workmen. what an extraordinary man! wait a little, and there will be more reason for your saying so. for this is he who is able to make not only vessels of every kind, but plants and animals, himself and all other things--the earth and heaven, and the things which are in heaven or under the earth; he makes the gods also. he must be a wizard and no mistake. oh! you are incredulous, are you? do you mean that there is no such maker or creator, or that in one sense there might be a maker of all these things but in another not? do you see that there is a way in which you could make them all yourself? what way? an easy way enough; or rather, there are many ways in which the feat might be quickly and easily accomplished, none quicker than that of turning a mirror round and round--you would soon enough make the sun and the heavens, and the earth and yourself, and other animals and plants, and all the other things of which we were just now speaking, in the mirror. yes, he said; but they would be appearances only. very good, i said, you are coming to the point now. and the painter too is, as i conceive, just such another--a creator of appearances, is he not? of course. but then i suppose you will say that what he creates is untrue. and yet there is a sense in which the painter also creates a bed? yes, he said, but not a real bed. and what of the maker of the bed? were you not saying that he too makes, not the idea which, according to our view, is the essence of the bed, but only a particular bed? yes, i did. then if he does not make that which exists he cannot make true existence, but only some semblance of existence; and if any one were to say that the work of the maker of the bed, or of any other workman, has real existence, he could hardly be supposed to be speaking the truth. at any rate, he replied, philosophers would say that he was not speaking the truth. no wonder, then, that his work too is an indistinct expression of truth. no wonder. suppose now that by the light of the examples just offered we enquire who this imitator is? if you please. well then, here are three beds: one existing in nature, which is made by god, as i think that we may say--for no one else can be the maker? no. there is another which is the work of the carpenter? yes. and the work of the painter is a third? yes. beds, then, are of three kinds, and there are three artists who superintend them: god, the maker of the bed, and the painter? yes, there are three of them. god, whether from choice or from necessity, made one bed in nature and one only; two or more such ideal beds neither ever have been nor ever will be made by god. why is that? because even if he had made but two, a third would still appear behind them which both of them would have for their idea, and that would be the ideal bed and the two others. very true, he said. god knew this, and he desired to be the real maker of a real bed, not a particular maker of a particular bed, and therefore he created a bed which is essentially and by nature one only. so we believe. shall we, then, speak of him as the natural author or maker of the bed? yes, he replied; inasmuch as by the natural process of creation he is the author of this and of all other things. and what shall we say of the carpenter--is not he also the maker of the bed? yes. but would you call the painter a creator and maker? certainly not. yet if he is not the maker, what is he in relation to the bed? i think, he said, that we may fairly designate him as the imitator of that which the others make. good, i said; then you call him who is third in the descent from nature an imitator? certainly, he said. and the tragic poet is an imitator, and therefore, like all other imitators, he is thrice removed from the king and from the truth? that appears to be so. then about the imitator we are agreed. and what about the painter?-- i would like to know whether he may be thought to imitate that which originally exists in nature, or only the creations of artists? the latter. as they are or as they appear? you have still to determine this. what do you mean? i mean, that you may look at a bed from different points of view, obliquely or directly or from any other point of view, and the bed will appear different, but there is no difference in reality. and the same of all things. yes, he said, the difference is only apparent. now let me ask you another question: which is the art of painting designed to be--an imitation of things as they are, or as they appear--of appearance or of reality? of appearance. then the imitator, i said, is a long way off the truth, and can do all things because he lightly touches on a small part of them, and that part an image. for example: a painter will paint a cobbler, carpenter, or any other artist, though he knows nothing of their arts; and, if he is a good artist, he may deceive children or simple persons, when he shows them his picture of a carpenter from a distance, and they will fancy that they are looking at a real carpenter. certainly. and whenever any one informs us that he has found a man knows all the arts, and all things else that anybody knows, and every single thing with a higher degree of accuracy than any other man--whoever tells us this, i think that we can only imagine to be a simple creature who is likely to have been deceived by some wizard or actor whom he met, and whom he thought all-knowing, because he himself was unable to analyse the nature of knowledge and ignorance and imitation. most true. and so, when we hear persons saying that the tragedians, and homer, who is at their head, know all the arts and all things human, virtue as well as vice, and divine things too, for that the good poet cannot compose well unless he knows his subject, and that he who has not this knowledge can never be a poet, we ought to consider whether here also there may not be a similar illusion. perhaps they may have come across imitators and been deceived by them; they may not have remembered when they saw their works that these were but imitations thrice removed from the truth, and could easily be made without any knowledge of the truth, because they are appearances only and not realities? or, after all, they may be in the right, and poets do really know the things about which they seem to the many to speak so well? the question, he said, should by all means be considered. now do you suppose that if a person were able to make the original as well as the image, he would seriously devote himself to the image-making branch? would he allow imitation to be the ruling principle of his life, as if he had nothing higher in him? i should say not. the real artist, who knew what he was imitating, would be interested in realities and not in imitations; and would desire to leave as memorials of himself works many and fair; and, instead of being the author of encomiums, he would prefer to be the theme of them. yes, he said, that would be to him a source of much greater honour and profit. then, i said, we must put a question to homer; not about medicine, or any of the arts to which his poems only incidentally refer: we are not going to ask him, or any other poet, whether he has cured patients like asclepius, or left behind him a school of medicine such as the asclepiads were, or whether he only talks about medicine and other arts at second hand; but we have a right to know respecting military tactics, politics, education, which are the chiefest and noblest subjects of his poems, and we may fairly ask him about them. 'friend homer,' then we say to him, 'if you are only in the second remove from truth in what you say of virtue, and not in the third--not an image maker or imitator--and if you are able to discern what pursuits make men better or worse in private or public life, tell us what state was ever better governed by your help? the good order of lacedaemon is due to lycurgus, and many other cities great and small have been similarly benefited by others; but who says that you have been a good legislator to them and have done them any good? italy and sicily boast of charondas, and there is solon who is renowned among us; but what city has anything to say about you?' is there any city which he might name? i think not, said glaucon; not even the homerids themselves pretend that he was a legislator. well, but is there any war on record which was carried on successfully by him, or aided by his counsels, when he was alive? there is not. or is there any invention of his, applicable to the arts or to human life, such as thales the milesian or anacharsis the scythian, and other ingenious men have conceived, which is attributed to him? there is absolutely nothing of the kind. but, if homer never did any public service, was he privately a guide or teacher of any? had he in his lifetime friends who loved to associate with him, and who handed down to posterity an homeric way of life, such as was established by pythagoras who was so greatly beloved for his wisdom, and whose followers are to this day quite celebrated for the order which was named after him? nothing of the kind is recorded of him. for surely, socrates, creophylus, the companion of homer, that child of flesh, whose name always makes us laugh, might be more justly ridiculed for his stupidity, if, as is said, homer was greatly neglected by him and others in his own day when he was alive? yes, i replied, that is the tradition. but can you imagine, glaucon, that if homer had really been able to educate and improve mankind--if he had possessed knowledge and not been a mere imitator--can you imagine, i say, that he would not have had many followers, and been honoured and loved by them? protagoras of abdera, and prodicus of ceos, and a host of others, have only to whisper to their contemporaries: 'you will never be able to manage either your own house or your own state until you appoint us to be your ministers of education'--and this ingenious device of theirs has such an effect in making them love them that their companions all but carry them about on their shoulders. and is it conceivable that the contemporaries of homer, or again of hesiod, would have allowed either of them to go about as rhapsodists, if they had really been able to make mankind virtuous? would they not have been as unwilling to part with them as with gold, and have compelled them to stay at home with them? or, if the master would not stay, then the disciples would have followed him about everywhere, until they had got education enough? yes, socrates, that, i think, is quite true. then must we not infer that all these poetical individuals, beginning with homer, are only imitators; they copy images of virtue and the like, but the truth they never reach? the poet is like a painter who, as we have already observed, will make a likeness of a cobbler though he understands nothing of cobbling; and his picture is good enough for those who know no more than he does, and judge only by colours and figures. quite so. in like manner the poet with his words and phrases may be said to lay on the colours of the several arts, himself understanding their nature only enough to imitate them; and other people, who are as ignorant as he is, and judge only from his words, imagine that if he speaks of cobbling, or of military tactics, or of anything else, in metre and harmony and rhythm, he speaks very well--such is the sweet influence which melody and rhythm by nature have. and i think that you must have observed again and again what a poor appearance the tales of poets make when stripped of the colours which music puts upon them, and recited in simple prose. yes, he said. they are like faces which were never really beautiful, but only blooming; and now the bloom of youth has passed away from them? exactly. here is another point: the imitator or maker of the image knows nothing of true existence; he knows appearances only. am i not right? yes. then let us have a clear understanding, and not be satisfied with half an explanation. proceed. of the painter we say that he will paint reins, and he will paint a bit? yes. and the worker in leather and brass will make them? certainly. but does the painter know the right form of the bit and reins? nay, hardly even the workers in brass and leather who make them; only the horseman who knows how to use them--he knows their right form. most true. and may we not say the same of all things? what? that there are three arts which are concerned with all things: one which uses, another which makes, a third which imitates them? yes. and the excellence or beauty or truth of every structure, animate or inanimate, and of every action of man, is relative to the use for which nature or the artist has intended them. true. then the user of them must have the greatest experience of them, and he must indicate to the maker the good or bad qualities which develop themselves in use; for example, the flute-player will tell the flute-maker which of his flutes is satisfactory to the performer; he will tell him how he ought to make them, and the other will attend to his instructions? of course. the one knows and therefore speaks with authority about the goodness and badness of flutes, while the other, confiding in him, will do what he is told by him? true. the instrument is the same, but about the excellence or badness of it the maker will only attain to a correct belief; and this he will gain from him who knows, by talking to him and being compelled to hear what he has to say, whereas the user will have knowledge? true. but will the imitator have either? will he know from use whether or no his drawing is correct or beautiful? or will he have right opinion from being compelled to associate with another who knows and gives him instructions about what he should draw? neither. then he will no more have true opinion than he will have knowledge about the goodness or badness of his imitations? i suppose not. the imitative artist will be in a brilliant state of intelligence about his own creations? nay, very much the reverse. and still he will go on imitating without knowing what makes a thing good or bad, and may be expected therefore to imitate only that which appears to be good to the ignorant multitude? just so. thus far then we are pretty well agreed that the imitator has no knowledge worth mentioning of what he imitates. imitation is only a kind of play or sport, and the tragic poets, whether they write in iambic or in heroic verse, are imitators in the highest degree? very true. and now tell me, i conjure you, has not imitation been shown by us to be concerned with that which is thrice removed from the truth? certainly. and what is the faculty in man to which imitation is addressed? what do you mean? i will explain: the body which is large when seen near, appears small when seen at a distance? true. and the same object appears straight when looked at out of the water, and crooked when in the water; and the concave becomes convex, owing to the illusion about colours to which the sight is liable. thus every sort of confusion is revealed within us; and this is that weakness of the human mind on which the art of conjuring and of deceiving by light and shadow and other ingenious devices imposes, having an effect upon us like magic. true. and the arts of measuring and numbering and weighing come to the rescue of the human understanding-there is the beauty of them--and the apparent greater or less, or more or heavier, no longer have the mastery over us, but give way before calculation and measure and weight? most true. and this, surely, must be the work of the calculating and rational principle in the soul to be sure. and when this principle measures and certifies that some things are equal, or that some are greater or less than others, there occurs an apparent contradiction? true. but were we not saying that such a contradiction is the same faculty cannot have contrary opinions at the same time about the same thing? very true. then that part of the soul which has an opinion contrary to measure is not the same with that which has an opinion in accordance with measure? true. and the better part of the soul is likely to be that which trusts to measure and calculation? certainly. and that which is opposed to them is one of the inferior principles of the soul? no doubt. this was the conclusion at which i was seeking to arrive when i said that painting or drawing, and imitation in general, when doing their own proper work, are far removed from truth, and the companions and friends and associates of a principle within us which is equally removed from reason, and that they have no true or healthy aim. exactly. the imitative art is an inferior who marries an inferior, and has inferior offspring. very true. and is this confined to the sight only, or does it extend to the hearing also, relating in fact to what we term poetry? probably the same would be true of poetry. do not rely, i said, on a probability derived from the analogy of painting; but let us examine further and see whether the faculty with which poetical imitation is concerned is good or bad. by all means. we may state the question thus:--imitation imitates the actions of men, whether voluntary or involuntary, on which, as they imagine, a good or bad result has ensued, and they rejoice or sorrow accordingly. is there anything more? no, there is nothing else. but in all this variety of circumstances is the man at unity with himself--or rather, as in the instance of sight there was confusion and opposition in his opinions about the same things, so here also is there not strife and inconsistency in his life? though i need hardly raise the question again, for i remember that all this has been already admitted; and the soul has been acknowledged by us to be full of these and ten thousand similar oppositions occurring at the same moment? and we were right, he said. yes, i said, thus far we were right; but there was an omission which must now be supplied. what was the omission? were we not saying that a good man, who has the misfortune to lose his son or anything else which is most dear to him, will bear the loss with more equanimity than another? yes. but will he have no sorrow, or shall we say that although he cannot help sorrowing, he will moderate his sorrow? the latter, he said, is the truer statement. tell me: will he be more likely to struggle and hold out against his sorrow when he is seen by his equals, or when he is alone? it will make a great difference whether he is seen or not. when he is by himself he will not mind saying or doing many things which he would be ashamed of any one hearing or seeing him do? true. there is a principle of law and reason in him which bids him resist, as well as a feeling of his misfortune which is forcing him to indulge his sorrow? true. but when a man is drawn in two opposite directions, to and from the same object, this, as we affirm, necessarily implies two distinct principles in him? certainly. one of them is ready to follow the guidance of the law? how do you mean? the law would say that to be patient under suffering is best, and that we should not give way to impatience, as there is no knowing whether such things are good or evil; and nothing is gained by impatience; also, because no human thing is of serious importance, and grief stands in the way of that which at the moment is most required. what is most required? he asked. that we should take counsel about what has happened, and when the dice have been thrown order our affairs in the way which reason deems best; not, like children who have had a fall, keeping hold of the part struck and wasting time in setting up a howl, but always accustoming the soul forthwith to apply a remedy, raising up that which is sickly and fallen, banishing the cry of sorrow by the healing art. yes, he said, that is the true way of meeting the attacks of fortune. yes, i said; and the higher principle is ready to follow this suggestion of reason? clearly. and the other principle, which inclines us to recollection of our troubles and to lamentation, and can never have enough of them, we may call irrational, useless, and cowardly? indeed, we may. and does not the latter--i mean the rebellious principle--furnish a great variety of materials for imitation? whereas the wise and calm temperament, being always nearly equable, is not easy to imitate or to appreciate when imitated, especially at a public festival when a promiscuous crowd is assembled in a theatre. for the feeling represented is one to which they are strangers. certainly. then the imitative poet who aims at being popular is not by nature made, nor is his art intended, to please or to affect the principle in the soul; but he will prefer the passionate and fitful temper, which is easily imitated? clearly. and now we may fairly take him and place him by the side of the painter, for he is like him in two ways: first, inasmuch as his creations have an inferior degree of truth--in this, i say, he is like him; and he is also like him in being concerned with an inferior part of the soul; and therefore we shall be right in refusing to admit him into a well-ordered state, because he awakens and nourishes and strengthens the feelings and impairs the reason. as in a city when the evil are permitted to have authority and the good are put out of the way, so in the soul of man, as we maintain, the imitative poet implants an evil constitution, for he indulges the irrational nature which has no discernment of greater and less, but thinks the same thing at one time great and at another small-he is a manufacturer of images and is very far removed from the truth. exactly. but we have not yet brought forward the heaviest count in our accusation:--the power which poetry has of harming even the good (and there are very few who are not harmed), is surely an awful thing? yes, certainly, if the effect is what you say. hear and judge: the best of us, as i conceive, when we listen to a passage of homer, or one of the tragedians, in which he represents some pitiful hero who is drawling out his sorrows in a long oration, or weeping, and smiting his breast--the best of us, you know, delight in giving way to sympathy, and are in raptures at the excellence of the poet who stirs our feelings most. yes, of course i know. but when any sorrow of our own happens to us, then you may observe that we pride ourselves on the opposite quality--we would fain be quiet and patient; this is the manly part, and the other which delighted us in the recitation is now deemed to be the part of a woman. very true, he said. now can we be right in praising and admiring another who is doing that which any one of us would abominate and be ashamed of in his own person? no, he said, that is certainly not reasonable. nay, i said, quite reasonable from one point of view. what point of view? if you consider, i said, that when in misfortune we feel a natural hunger and desire to relieve our sorrow by weeping and lamentation, and that this feeling which is kept under control in our own calamities is satisfied and delighted by the poets;-the better nature in each of us, not having been sufficiently trained by reason or habit, allows the sympathetic element to break loose because the sorrow is another's; and the spectator fancies that there can be no disgrace to himself in praising and pitying any one who comes telling him what a good man he is, and making a fuss about his troubles; he thinks that the pleasure is a gain, and why should he be supercilious and lose this and the poem too? few persons ever reflect, as i should imagine, that from the evil of other men something of evil is communicated to themselves. and so the feeling of sorrow which has gathered strength at the sight of the misfortunes of others is with difficulty repressed in our own. how very true! and does not the same hold also of the ridiculous? there are jests which you would be ashamed to make yourself, and yet on the comic stage, or indeed in private, when you hear them, you are greatly amused by them, and are not at all disgusted at their unseemliness;--the case of pity is repeated;--there is a principle in human nature which is disposed to raise a laugh, and this which you once restrained by reason, because you were afraid of being thought a buffoon, is now let out again; and having stimulated the risible faculty at the theatre, you are betrayed unconsciously to yourself into playing the comic poet at home. quite true, he said. and the same may be said of lust and anger and all the other affections, of desire and pain and pleasure, which are held to be inseparable from every action--in all of them poetry feeds and waters the passions instead of drying them up; she lets them rule, although they ought to be controlled, if mankind are ever to increase in happiness and virtue. i cannot deny it. therefore, glaucon, i said, whenever you meet with any of the eulogists of homer declaring that he has been the educator of hellas, and that he is profitable for education and for the ordering of human things, and that you should take him up again and again and get to know him and regulate your whole life according to him, we may love and honour those who say these things--they are excellent people, as far as their lights extend; and we are ready to acknowledge that homer is the greatest of poets and first of tragedy writers; but we must remain firm in our conviction that hymns to the gods and praises of famous men are the only poetry which ought to be admitted into our state. for if you go beyond this and allow the honeyed muse to enter, either in epic or lyric verse, not law and the reason of mankind, which by common consent have ever been deemed best, but pleasure and pain will be the rulers in our state. that is most true, he said. and now since we have reverted to the subject of poetry, let this our defence serve to show the reasonableness of our former judgment in sending away out of our state an art having the tendencies which we have described; for reason constrained us. but that she may impute to us any harshness or want of politeness, let us tell her that there is an ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry; of which there are many proofs, such as the saying of 'the yelping hound howling at her lord,' or of one 'mighty in the vain talk of fools,' and 'the mob of sages circumventing zeus,' and the 'subtle thinkers who are beggars after all'; and there are innumerable other signs of ancient enmity between them. notwithstanding this, let us assure our sweet friend and the sister arts of imitation that if she will only prove her title to exist in a well-ordered state we shall be delighted to receive her--we are very conscious of her charms; but we may not on that account betray the truth. i dare say, glaucon, that you are as much charmed by her as i am, especially when she appears in homer? yes, indeed, i am greatly charmed. shall i propose, then, that she be allowed to return from exile, but upon this condition only--that she make a defence of herself in lyrical or some other metre? certainly. and we may further grant to those of her defenders who are lovers of poetry and yet not poets the permission to speak in prose on her behalf: let them show not only that she is pleasant but also useful to states and to human life, and we will listen in a kindly spirit; for if this can be proved we shall surely be the gainers--i mean, if there is a use in poetry as well as a delight? certainly, he said, we shall the gainers. if her defence fails, then, my dear friend, like other persons who are enamoured of something, but put a restraint upon themselves when they think their desires are opposed to their interests, so too must we after the manner of lovers give her up, though not without a struggle. we too are inspired by that love of poetry which the education of noble states has implanted in us, and therefore we would have her appear at her best and truest; but so long as she is unable to make good her defence, this argument of ours shall be a charm to us, which we will repeat to ourselves while we listen to her strains; that we may not fall away into the childish love of her which captivates the many. at all events we are well aware that poetry being such as we have described is not to be regarded seriously as attaining to the truth; and he who listens to her, fearing for the safety of the city which is within him, should be on his guard against her seductions and make our words his law. yes, he said, i quite agree with you. yes, i said, my dear glaucon, for great is the issue at stake, greater than appears, whether a man is to be good or bad. and what will any one be profited if under the influence of honour or money or power, aye, or under the excitement of poetry, he neglect justice and virtue? yes, he said; i have been convinced by the argument, as i believe that any one else would have been. and yet no mention has been made of the greatest prizes and rewards which await virtue. what, are there any greater still? if there are, they must be of an inconceivable greatness. why, i said, what was ever great in a short time? the whole period of threescore years and ten is surely but a little thing in comparison with eternity? say rather 'nothing,' he replied. and should an immortal being seriously think of this little space rather than of the whole? of the whole, certainly. but why do you ask? are you not aware, i said, that the soul of man is immortal and imperishable? he looked at me in astonishment, and said: no, by heaven: and are you really prepared to maintain this? yes, i said, i ought to be, and you too--there is no difficulty in proving it. i see a great difficulty; but i should like to hear you state this argument of which you make so light. listen then. i am attending. there is a thing which you call good and another which you call evil? yes, he replied. would you agree with me in thinking that the corrupting and destroying element is the evil, and the saving and improving element the good? yes. and you admit that every thing has a good and also an evil; as ophthalmia is the evil of the eyes and disease of the whole body; as mildew is of corn, and rot of timber, or rust of copper and iron: in everything, or in almost everything, there is an inherent evil and disease? yes, he said. and anything which is infected by any of these evils is made evil, and at last wholly dissolves and dies? true. the vice and evil which is inherent in each is the destruction of each; and if this does not destroy them there is nothing else that will; for good certainly will not destroy them, nor again, that which is neither good nor evil. certainly not. if, then, we find any nature which having this inherent corruption cannot be dissolved or destroyed, we may be certain that of such a nature there is no destruction? that may be assumed. well, i said, and is there no evil which corrupts the soul? yes, he said, there are all the evils which we were just now passing in review: unrighteousness, intemperance, cowardice, ignorance. but does any of these dissolve or destroy her?--and here do not let us fall into the error of supposing that the unjust and foolish man, when he is detected, perishes through his own injustice, which is an evil of the soul. take the analogy of the body: the evil of the body is a disease which wastes and reduces and annihilates the body; and all the things of which we were just now speaking come to annihilation through their own corruption attaching to them and inhering in them and so destroying them. is not this true? yes. consider the soul in like manner. does the injustice or other evil which exists in the soul waste and consume her? do they by attaching to the soul and inhering in her at last bring her to death, and so separate her from the body? certainly not. and yet, i said, it is unreasonable to suppose that anything can perish from without through affection of external evil which could not be destroyed from within by a corruption of its own? it is, he replied. consider, i said, glaucon, that even the badness of food, whether staleness, decomposition, or any other bad quality, when confined to the actual food, is not supposed to destroy the body; although, if the badness of food communicates corruption to the body, then we should say that the body has been destroyed by a corruption of itself, which is disease, brought on by this; but that the body, being one thing, can be destroyed by the badness of food, which is another, and which does not engender any natural infection--this we shall absolutely deny? very true. and, on the same principle, unless some bodily evil can produce an evil of the soul, we must not suppose that the soul, which is one thing, can be dissolved by any merely external evil which belongs to another? yes, he said, there is reason in that. either then, let us refute this conclusion, or, while it remains unrefuted, let us never say that fever, or any other disease, or the knife put to the throat, or even the cutting up of the whole body into the minutest pieces, can destroy the soul, until she herself is proved to become more unholy or unrighteous in consequence of these things being done to the body; but that the soul, or anything else if not destroyed by an internal evil, can be destroyed by an external one, is not to be affirmed by any man. and surely, he replied, no one will ever prove that the souls of men become more unjust in consequence of death. but if some one who would rather not admit the immortality of the soul boldly denies this, and says that the dying do really become more evil and unrighteous, then, if the speaker is right, i suppose that injustice, like disease, must be assumed to be fatal to the unjust, and that those who take this disorder die by the natural inherent power of destruction which evil has, and which kills them sooner or later, but in quite another way from that in which, at present, the wicked receive death at the hands of others as the penalty of their deeds? nay, he said, in that case injustice, if fatal to the unjust, will not be so very terrible to him, for he will be delivered from evil. but i rather suspect the opposite to be the truth, and that injustice which, if it have the power, will murder others, keeps the murderer alive--aye, and well awake too; so far removed is her dwelling-place from being a house of death. true, i said; if the inherent natural vice or evil of the soul is unable to kill or destroy her, hardly will that which is appointed to be the destruction of some other body, destroy a soul or anything else except that of which it was appointed to be the destruction. yes, that can hardly be. but the soul which cannot be destroyed by an evil, whether inherent or external, must exist for ever, and if existing for ever, must be immortal? certainly. that is the conclusion, i said; and, if a true conclusion, then the souls must always be the same, for if none be destroyed they will not diminish in number. neither will they increase, for the increase of the immortal natures must come from something mortal, and all things would thus end in immortality. very true. but this we cannot believe--reason will not allow us--any more than we can believe the soul, in her truest nature, to be full of variety and difference and dissimilarity. what do you mean? he said. the soul, i said, being, as is now proven, immortal, must be the fairest of compositions and cannot be compounded of many elements? certainly not. her immortality is demonstrated by the previous argument, and there are many other proofs; but to see her as she really is, not as we now behold her, marred by communion with the body and other miseries, you must contemplate her with the eye of reason, in her original purity; and then her beauty will be revealed, and justice and injustice and all the things which we have described will be manifested more clearly. thus far, we have spoken the truth concerning her as she appears at present, but we must remember also that we have seen her only in a condition which may be compared to that of the sea-god glaucus, whose original image can hardly be discerned because his natural members are broken off and crushed and damaged by the waves in all sorts of ways, and incrustations have grown over them of seaweed and shells and stones, so that he is more like some monster than he is to his own natural form. and the soul which we behold is in a similar condition, disfigured by ten thousand ills. but not there, glaucon, not there must we look. where then? at her love of wisdom. let us see whom she affects, and what society and converse she seeks in virtue of her near kindred with the immortal and eternal and divine; also how different she would become if wholly following this superior principle, and borne by a divine impulse out of the ocean in which she now is, and disengaged from the stones and shells and things of earth and rock which in wild variety spring up around her because she feeds upon earth, and is overgrown by the good things of this life as they are termed: then you would see her as she is, and know whether she has one shape only or many, or what her nature is. of her affections and of the forms which she takes in this present life i think that we have now said enough. true, he replied. and thus, i said, we have fulfilled the conditions of the argument; we have not introduced the rewards and glories of justice, which, as you were saying, are to be found in homer and hesiod; but justice in her own nature has been shown to be best for the soul in her own nature. let a man do what is just, whether he have the ring of gyges or not, and even if in addition to the ring of gyges he put on the helmet of hades. very true. and now, glaucon, there will be no harm in further enumerating how many and how great are the rewards which justice and the other virtues procure to the soul from gods and men, both in life and after death. certainly not, he said. will you repay me, then, what you borrowed in the argument? what did i borrow? the assumption that the just man should appear unjust and the unjust just: for you were of opinion that even if the true state of the case could not possibly escape the eyes of gods and men, still this admission ought to be made for the sake of the argument, in order that pure justice might be weighed against pure injustice. do you remember? i should be much to blame if i had forgotten. then, as the cause is decided, i demand on behalf of justice that the estimation in which she is held by gods and men and which we acknowledge to be her due should now be restored to her by us; since she has been shown to confer reality, and not to deceive those who truly possess her, let what has been taken from her be given back, that so she may win that palm of appearance which is hers also, and which she gives to her own. the demand, he said, is just. in the first place, i said--and this is the first thing which you will have to give back--the nature both of the just and unjust is truly known to the gods. granted. and if they are both known to them, one must be the friend and the other the enemy of the gods, as we admitted from the beginning? true. and the friend of the gods may be supposed to receive from them all things at their best, excepting only such evil as is the necessary consequence of former sins? certainly. then this must be our notion of the just man, that even when he is in poverty or sickness, or any other seeming misfortune, all things will in the end work together for good to him in life and death: for the gods have a care of any one whose desire is to become just and to be like god, as far as man can attain the divine likeness, by the pursuit of virtue? yes, he said; if he is like god he will surely not be neglected by him. and of the unjust may not the opposite be supposed? certainly. such, then, are the palms of victory which the gods give the just? that is my conviction. and what do they receive of men? look at things as they really are, and you will see that the clever unjust are in the case of runners, who run well from the starting-place to the goal but not back again from the goal: they go off at a great pace, but in the end only look foolish, slinking away with their ears draggling on their shoulders, and without a crown; but the true runner comes to the finish and receives the prize and is crowned. and this is the way with the just; he who endures to the end of every action and occasion of his entire life has a good report and carries off the prize which men have to bestow. true. and now you must allow me to repeat of the just the blessings which you were attributing to the fortunate unjust. i shall say of them, what you were saying of the others, that as they grow older, they become rulers in their own city if they care to be; they marry whom they like and give in marriage to whom they will; all that you said of the others i now say of these. and, on the other hand, of the unjust i say that the greater number, even though they escape in their youth, are found out at last and look foolish at the end of their course, and when they come to be old and miserable are flouted alike by stranger and citizen; they are beaten and then come those things unfit for ears polite, as you truly term them; they will be racked and have their eyes burned out, as you were saying. and you may suppose that i have repeated the remainder of your tale of horrors. but will you let me assume, without reciting them, that these things are true? certainly, he said, what you say is true. these, then, are the prizes and rewards and gifts which are bestowed upon the just by gods and men in this present life, in addition to the other good things which justice of herself provides. yes, he said; and they are fair and lasting. and yet, i said, all these are as nothing, either in number or greatness in comparison with those other recompenses which await both just and unjust after death. and you ought to hear them, and then both just and unjust will have received from us a full payment of the debt which the argument owes to them. speak, he said; there are few things which i would more gladly hear. socrates well, i said, i will tell you a tale; not one of the tales which odysseus tells to the hero alcinous, yet this too is a tale of a hero, er the son of armenius, a pamphylian by birth. he was slain in battle, and ten days afterwards, when the bodies of the dead were taken up already in a state of corruption, his body was found unaffected by decay, and carried away home to be buried. and on the twelfth day, as he was lying on the funeral pile, he returned to life and told them what he had seen in the other world. he said that when his soul left the body he went on a journey with a great company, and that they came to a mysterious place at which there were two openings in the earth; they were near together, and over against them were two other openings in the heaven above. in the intermediate space there were judges seated, who commanded the just, after they had given judgment on them and had bound their sentences in front of them, to ascend by the heavenly way on the right hand; and in like manner the unjust were bidden by them to descend by the lower way on the left hand; these also bore the symbols of their deeds, but fastened on their backs. he drew near, and they told him that he was to be the messenger who would carry the report of the other world to men, and they bade him hear and see all that was to be heard and seen in that place. then he beheld and saw on one side the souls departing at either opening of heaven and earth when sentence had been given on them; and at the two other openings other souls, some ascending out of the earth dusty and worn with travel, some descending out of heaven clean and bright. and arriving ever and anon they seemed to have come from a long journey, and they went forth with gladness into the meadow, where they encamped as at a festival; and those who knew one another embraced and conversed, the souls which came from earth curiously enquiring about the things above, and the souls which came from heaven about the things beneath. and they told one another of what had happened by the way, those from below weeping and sorrowing at the remembrance of the things which they had endured and seen in their journey beneath the earth (now the journey lasted a thousand years), while those from above were describing heavenly delights and visions of inconceivable beauty. the story, glaucon, would take too long to tell; but the sum was this:--he said that for every wrong which they had done to any one they suffered tenfold; or once in a hundred years--such being reckoned to be the length of man's life, and the penalty being thus paid ten times in a thousand years. if, for example, there were any who had been the cause of many deaths, or had betrayed or enslaved cities or armies, or been guilty of any other evil behaviour, for each and all of their offences they received punishment ten times over, and the rewards of beneficence and justice and holiness were in the same proportion. i need hardly repeat what he said concerning young children dying almost as soon as they were born. of piety and impiety to gods and parents, and of murderers, there were retributions other and greater far which he described. he mentioned that he was present when one of the spirits asked another, 'where is ardiaeus the great?' (now this ardiaeus lived a thousand years before the time of er: he had been the tyrant of some city of pamphylia, and had murdered his aged father and his elder brother, and was said to have committed many other abominable crimes.) the answer of the other spirit was: 'he comes not hither and will never come. and this,' said he, 'was one of the dreadful sights which we ourselves witnessed. we were at the mouth of the cavern, and, having completed all our experiences, were about to reascend, when of a sudden ardiaeus appeared and several others, most of whom were tyrants; and there were also besides the tyrants private individuals who had been great criminals: they were just, as they fancied, about to return into the upper world, but the mouth, instead of admitting them, gave a roar, whenever any of these incurable sinners or some one who had not been sufficiently punished tried to ascend; and then wild men of fiery aspect, who were standing by and heard the sound, seized and carried them off; and ardiaeus and others they bound head and foot and hand, and threw them down and flayed them with scourges, and dragged them along the road at the side, carding them on thorns like wool, and declaring to the passers-by what were their crimes, and that they were being taken away to be cast into hell.' and of all the many terrors which they had endured, he said that there was none like the terror which each of them felt at that moment, lest they should hear the voice; and when there was silence, one by one they ascended with exceeding joy. these, said er, were the penalties and retributions, and there were blessings as great. now when the spirits which were in the meadow had tarried seven days, on the eighth they were obliged to proceed on their journey, and, on the fourth day after, he said that they came to a place where they could see from above a line of light, straight as a column, extending right through the whole heaven and through the earth, in colour resembling the rainbow, only brighter and purer; another day's journey brought them to the place, and there, in the midst of the light, they saw the ends of the chains of heaven let down from above: for this light is the belt of heaven, and holds together the circle of the universe, like the under-girders of a trireme. from these ends is extended the spindle of necessity, on which all the revolutions turn. the shaft and hook of this spindle are made of steel, and the whorl is made partly of steel and also partly of other materials. now the whorl is in form like the whorl used on earth; and the description of it implied that there is one large hollow whorl which is quite scooped out, and into this is fitted another lesser one, and another, and another, and four others, making eight in all, like vessels which fit into one another; the whorls show their edges on the upper side, and on their lower side all together form one continuous whorl. this is pierced by the spindle, which is driven home through the centre of the eighth. the first and outermost whorl has the rim broadest, and the seven inner whorls are narrower, in the following proportions--the sixth is next to the first in size, the fourth next to the sixth; then comes the eighth; the seventh is fifth, the fifth is sixth, the third is seventh, last and eighth comes the second. the largest (of fixed stars) is spangled, and the seventh (or sun) is brightest; the eighth (or moon) coloured by the reflected light of the seventh; the second and fifth (saturn and mercury) are in colour like one another, and yellower than the preceding; the third (venus) has the whitest light; the fourth (mars) is reddish; the sixth (jupiter) is in whiteness second. now the whole spindle has the same motion; but, as the whole revolves in one direction, the seven inner circles move slowly in the other, and of these the swiftest is the eighth; next in swiftness are the seventh, sixth, and fifth, which move together; third in swiftness appeared to move according to the law of this reversed motion the fourth; the third appeared fourth and the second fifth. the spindle turns on the knees of necessity; and on the upper surface of each circle is a siren, who goes round with them, hymning a single tone or note. the eight together form one harmony; and round about, at equal intervals, there is another band, three in number, each sitting upon her throne: these are the fates, daughters of necessity, who are clothed in white robes and have chaplets upon their heads, lachesis and clotho and atropos, who accompany with their voices the harmony of the sirens--lachesis singing of the past, clotho of the present, atropos of the future; clotho from time to time assisting with a touch of her right hand the revolution of the outer circle of the whorl or spindle, and atropos with her left hand touching and guiding the inner ones, and lachesis laying hold of either in turn, first with one hand and then with the other. when er and the spirits arrived, their duty was to go at once to lachesis; but first of all there came a prophet who arranged them in order; then he took from the knees of lachesis lots and samples of lives, and having mounted a high pulpit, spoke as follows: 'hear the word of lachesis, the daughter of necessity. mortal souls, behold a new cycle of life and mortality. your genius will not be allotted to you, but you choose your genius; and let him who draws the first lot have the first choice, and the life which he chooses shall be his destiny. virtue is free, and as a man honours or dishonours her he will have more or less of her; the responsibility is with the chooser--god is justified.' when the interpreter had thus spoken he scattered lots indifferently among them all, and each of them took up the lot which fell near him, all but er himself (he was not allowed), and each as he took his lot perceived the number which he had obtained. then the interpreter placed on the ground before them the samples of lives; and there were many more lives than the souls present, and they were of all sorts. there were lives of every animal and of man in every condition. and there were tyrannies among them, some lasting out the tyrant's life, others which broke off in the middle and came to an end in poverty and exile and beggary; and there were lives of famous men, some who were famous for their form and beauty as well as for their strength and success in games, or, again, for their birth and the qualities of their ancestors; and some who were the reverse of famous for the opposite qualities. and of women likewise; there was not, however, any definite character them, because the soul, when choosing a new life, must of necessity become different. but there was every other quality, and the all mingled with one another, and also with elements of wealth and poverty, and disease and health; and there were mean states also. and here, my dear glaucon, is the supreme peril of our human state; and therefore the utmost care should be taken. let each one of us leave every other kind of knowledge and seek and follow one thing only, if peradventure he may be able to learn and may find some one who will make him able to learn and discern between good and evil, and so to choose always and everywhere the better life as he has opportunity. he should consider the bearing of all these things which have been mentioned severally and collectively upon virtue; he should know what the effect of beauty is when combined with poverty or wealth in a particular soul, and what are the good and evil consequences of noble and humble birth, of private and public station, of strength and weakness, of cleverness and dullness, and of all the soul, and the operation of them when conjoined; he will then look at the nature of the soul, and from the consideration of all these qualities he will be able to determine which is the better and which is the worse; and so he will choose, giving the name of evil to the life which will make his soul more unjust, and good to the life which will make his soul more just; all else he will disregard. for we have seen and know that this is the best choice both in life and after death. a man must take with him into the world below an adamantine faith in truth and right, that there too he may be undazzled by the desire of wealth or the other allurements of evil, lest, coming upon tyrannies and similar villainies, he do irremediable wrongs to others and suffer yet worse himself; but let him know how to choose the mean and avoid the extremes on either side, as far as possible, not only in this life but in all that which is to come. for this is the way of happiness. and according to the report of the messenger from the other world this was what the prophet said at the time: 'even for the last comer, if he chooses wisely and will live diligently, there is appointed a happy and not undesirable existence. let not him who chooses first be careless, and let not the last despair.' and when he had spoken, he who had the first choice came forward and in a moment chose the greatest tyranny; his mind having been darkened by folly and sensuality, he had not thought out the whole matter before he chose, and did not at first sight perceive that he was fated, among other evils, to devour his own children. but when he had time to reflect, and saw what was in the lot, he began to beat his breast and lament over his choice, forgetting the proclamation of the prophet; for, instead of throwing the blame of his misfortune on himself, he accused chance and the gods, and everything rather than himself. now he was one of those who came from heaven, and in a former life had dwelt in a well-ordered state, but his virtue was a matter of habit only, and he had no philosophy. and it was true of others who were similarly overtaken, that the greater number of them came from heaven and therefore they had never been schooled by trial, whereas the pilgrims who came from earth, having themselves suffered and seen others suffer, were not in a hurry to choose. and owing to this inexperience of theirs, and also because the lot was a chance, many of the souls exchanged a good destiny for an evil or an evil for a good. for if a man had always on his arrival in this world dedicated himself from the first to sound philosophy, and had been moderately fortunate in the number of the lot, he might, as the messenger reported, be happy here, and also his journey to another life and return to this, instead of being rough and underground, would be smooth and heavenly. most curious, he said, was the spectacle--sad and laughable and strange; for the choice of the souls was in most cases based on their experience of a previous life. there he saw the soul which had once been orpheus choosing the life of a swan out of enmity to the race of women, hating to be born of a woman because they had been his murderers; he beheld also the soul of thamyras choosing the life of a nightingale; birds, on the other hand, like the swan and other musicians, wanting to be men. the soul which obtained the twentieth lot chose the life of a lion, and this was the soul of ajax the son of telamon, who would not be a man, remembering the injustice which was done him the judgment about the arms. the next was agamemnon, who took the life of an eagle, because, like ajax, he hated human nature by reason of his sufferings. about the middle came the lot of atalanta; she, seeing the great fame of an athlete, was unable to resist the temptation: and after her there followed the soul of epeus the son of panopeus passing into the nature of a woman cunning in the arts; and far away among the last who chose, the soul of the jester thersites was putting on the form of a monkey. there came also the soul of odysseus having yet to make a choice, and his lot happened to be the last of them all. now the recollection of former tolls had disenchanted him of ambition, and he went about for a considerable time in search of the life of a private man who had no cares; he had some difficulty in finding this, which was lying about and had been neglected by everybody else; and when he saw it, he said that he would have done the had his lot been first instead of last, and that he was delighted to have it. and not only did men pass into animals, but i must also mention that there were animals tame and wild who changed into one another and into corresponding human natures--the good into the gentle and the evil into the savage, in all sorts of combinations. all the souls had now chosen their lives, and they went in the order of their choice to lachesis, who sent with them the genius whom they had severally chosen, to be the guardian of their lives and the fulfiller of the choice: this genius led the souls first to clotho, and drew them within the revolution of the spindle impelled by her hand, thus ratifying the destiny of each; and then, when they were fastened to this, carried them to atropos, who spun the threads and made them irreversible, whence without turning round they passed beneath the throne of necessity; and when they had all passed, they marched on in a scorching heat to the plain of forgetfulness, which was a barren waste destitute of trees and verdure; and then towards evening they encamped by the river of unmindfulness, whose water no vessel can hold; of this they were all obliged to drink a certain quantity, and those who were not saved by wisdom drank more than was necessary; and each one as he drank forgot all things. now after they had gone to rest, about the middle of the night there was a thunderstorm and earthquake, and then in an instant they were driven upwards in all manner of ways to their birth, like stars shooting. he himself was hindered from drinking the water. but in what manner or by what means he returned to the body he could not say; only, in the morning, awaking suddenly, he found himself lying on the pyre. and thus, glaucon, the tale has been saved and has not perished, and will save us if we are obedient to the word spoken; and we shall pass safely over the river of forgetfulness and our soul will not be defiled. wherefore my counsel is that we hold fast ever to the heavenly way and follow after justice and virtue always, considering that the soul is immortal and able to endure every sort of good and every sort of evil. thus shall we live dear to one another and to the gods, both while remaining here and when, like conquerors in the games who go round to gather gifts, we receive our reward. and it shall be well with us both in this life and in the pilgrimage of a thousand years which we have been describing. the writings of thomas paine, volume i. collected and edited by moncure daniel conway - [redactor's note: reprinted from the "the writings of thomas paine volume i" ( - ). the author's notes are preceded by a "*".] xix. the american crisis table of contents editor's preface the crisis no. i the crisis no. ii - to lord howe the crisis no. iii the crisis no. iv the crisis no. v - to general sir william howe - to the inhabitants of america the crisis no. vi - to the earl of carlisle, general clinton, and william eden, esq., british commissioners at new york the crisis no. vii - to the people of england the crisis no. viii - addressed to the people of england the crisis no. ix - the crisis extraordinary - on the subject of taxation the crisis no. x - on the king of england's speech - to the people of america the crisis no. xi - on the present state of news - a supernumerary crisis (to sir guy carleton.) the crisis no. xii - to the earl of shelburne the crisis no. xiii - on the peace, and the probable advantages thereof a supernumerary crisis - (to the people of america) the american crisis. editor's preface. thomas paine, in his will, speaks of this work as the american crisis, remembering perhaps that a number of political pamphlets had appeared in london, - , under general title of "the crisis." by the blunder of an early english publisher of paine's writings, one essay in the london "crisis" was attributed to paine, and the error has continued to cause confusion. this publisher was d. i. eaton, who printed as the first number of paine's "crisis" an essay taken from the london publication. but his prefatory note says: "since the printing of this book, the publisher is informed that no. , or first crisis in this publication, is not one of the thirteen which paine wrote, but a letter previous to them." unfortunately this correction is sufficiently equivocal to leave on some minds the notion that paine did write the letter in question, albeit not as a number of his "crisis "; especially as eaton's editor unwarrantably appended the signature "c. s.," suggesting "common sense." there are, however, no such letters in the london essay, which is signed "casca." it was published august, , in the form of a letter to general gage, in answer to his proclamation concerning the affair at lexington. it was certainly not written by paine. it apologizes for the americans for having, on april , at lexington, made "an attack upon the king's troops from behind walls and lurking holes." the writer asks: "have not the americans been driven to this frenzy? is it not common for an enemy to take every advantage?" paine, who was in america when the affair occurred at lexington, would have promptly denounced gage's story as a falsehood, but the facts known to every one in america were as yet not before the london writer. the english "crisis" bears evidence throughout of having been written in london. it derived nothing from paine, and he derived nothing from it, unless its title, and this is too obvious for its origin to require discussion. i have no doubt, however, that the title was suggested by the english publication, because paine has followed its scheme in introducing a "crisis extraordinary." his work consists of thirteen numbers, and, in addition to these, a "crisis extraordinary" and a "supernumerary crisis." in some modern collections all of these have been serially numbered, and a brief newspaper article added, making sixteen numbers. but paine, in his will, speaks of the number as thirteen, wishing perhaps, in his characteristic way, to adhere to the number of the american colonies, as he did in the thirteen ribs of his iron bridge. his enumeration is therefore followed in the present volume, and the numbers printed successively, although other writings intervened. the first "crisis" was printed in the pennsylvania journal, december , , and opens with the famous sentence, "these are the times that try men's souls"; the last "crisis" appeared april , , (eighth anniversary of the first gun of the war, at lexington,) and opens with the words, "the times that tried men's souls are over." the great effect produced by paine's successive publications has been attested by washington and franklin, by every leader of the american revolution, by resolutions of congress, and by every contemporary historian of the events amid which they were written. the first "crisis" is of especial historical interest. it was written during the retreat of washington across the delaware, and by order of the commander was read to groups of his dispirited and suffering soldiers. its opening sentence was adopted as the watchword of the movement on trenton, a few days after its publication, and is believed to have inspired much of the courage which won that victory, which, though not imposing in extent, was of great moral effect on washington's little army. the crisis the crisis i. (these are the times that try men's souls) these are the times that try men's souls. the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. what we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated. britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right (not only to tax) but "to bind us in all cases whatsoever," and if being bound in that manner, is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. even the expression is impious; for so unlimited a power can belong only to god. whether the independence of the continent was declared too soon, or delayed too long, i will not now enter into as an argument; my own simple opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it would have been much better. we did not make a proper use of last winter, neither could we, while we were in a dependent state. however, the fault, if it were one, was all our own*; we have none to blame but ourselves. but no great deal is lost yet. all that howe has been doing for this month past, is rather a ravage than a conquest, which the spirit of the jerseys, a year ago, would have quickly repulsed, and which time and a little resolution will soon recover. * the present winter is worth an age, if rightly employed; but, if lost or neglected, the whole continent will partake of the evil; and there is no punishment that man does not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he will, that may be the means of sacrificing a season so precious and useful. i have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret opinion has ever been, and still is, that god almighty will not give up a people to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly to perish, who have so earnestly and so repeatedly sought to avoid the calamities of war, by every decent method which wisdom could invent. neither have i so much of the infidel in me, as to suppose that he has relinquished the government of the world, and given us up to the care of devils; and as i do not, i cannot see on what grounds the king of britain can look up to heaven for help against us: a common murderer, a highwayman, or a house-breaker, has as good a pretence as he. 'tis surprising to see how rapidly a panic will sometimes run through a country. all nations and ages have been subject to them. britain has trembled like an ague at the report of a french fleet of flat-bottomed boats; and in the fourteenth [fifteenth] century the whole english army, after ravaging the kingdom of france, was driven back like men petrified with fear; and this brave exploit was performed by a few broken forces collected and headed by a woman, joan of arc. would that heaven might inspire some jersey maid to spirit up her countrymen, and save her fair fellow sufferers from ravage and ravishment! yet panics, in some cases, have their uses; they produce as much good as hurt. their duration is always short; the mind soon grows through them, and acquires a firmer habit than before. but their peculiar advantage is, that they are the touchstones of sincerity and hypocrisy, and bring things and men to light, which might otherwise have lain forever undiscovered. in fact, they have the same effect on secret traitors, which an imaginary apparition would have upon a private murderer. they sift out the hidden thoughts of man, and hold them up in public to the world. many a disguised tory has lately shown his head, that shall penitentially solemnize with curses the day on which howe arrived upon the delaware. as i was with the troops at fort lee, and marched with them to the edge of pennsylvania, i am well acquainted with many circumstances, which those who live at a distance know but little or nothing of. our situation there was exceedingly cramped, the place being a narrow neck of land between the north river and the hackensack. our force was inconsiderable, being not one-fourth so great as howe could bring against us. we had no army at hand to have relieved the garrison, had we shut ourselves up and stood on our defence. our ammunition, light artillery, and the best part of our stores, had been removed, on the apprehension that howe would endeavor to penetrate the jerseys, in which case fort lee could be of no use to us; for it must occur to every thinking man, whether in the army or not, that these kind of field forts are only for temporary purposes, and last in use no longer than the enemy directs his force against the particular object which such forts are raised to defend. such was our situation and condition at fort lee on the morning of the th of november, when an officer arrived with information that the enemy with boats had landed about seven miles above; major general [nathaniel] green, who commanded the garrison, immediately ordered them under arms, and sent express to general washington at the town of hackensack, distant by the way of the ferry = six miles. our first object was to secure the bridge over the hackensack, which laid up the river between the enemy and us, about six miles from us, and three from them. general washington arrived in about three-quarters of an hour, and marched at the head of the troops towards the bridge, which place i expected we should have a brush for; however, they did not choose to dispute it with us, and the greatest part of our troops went over the bridge, the rest over the ferry, except some which passed at a mill on a small creek, between the bridge and the ferry, and made their way through some marshy grounds up to the town of hackensack, and there passed the river. we brought off as much baggage as the wagons could contain, the rest was lost. the simple object was to bring off the garrison, and march them on till they could be strengthened by the jersey or pennsylvania militia, so as to be enabled to make a stand. we staid four days at newark, collected our out-posts with some of the jersey militia, and marched out twice to meet the enemy, on being informed that they were advancing, though our numbers were greatly inferior to theirs. howe, in my little opinion, committed a great error in generalship in not throwing a body of forces off from staten island through amboy, by which means he might have seized all our stores at brunswick, and intercepted our march into pennsylvania; but if we believe the power of hell to be limited, we must likewise believe that their agents are under some providential control. i shall not now attempt to give all the particulars of our retreat to the delaware; suffice it for the present to say, that both officers and men, though greatly harassed and fatigued, frequently without rest, covering, or provision, the inevitable consequences of a long retreat, bore it with a manly and martial spirit. all their wishes centred in one, which was, that the country would turn out and help them to drive the enemy back. voltaire has remarked that king william never appeared to full advantage but in difficulties and in action; the same remark may be made on general washington, for the character fits him. there is a natural firmness in some minds which cannot be unlocked by trifles, but which, when unlocked, discovers a cabinet of fortitude; and i reckon it among those kind of public blessings, which we do not immediately see, that god hath blessed him with uninterrupted health, and given him a mind that can even flourish upon care. i shall conclude this paper with some miscellaneous remarks on the state of our affairs; and shall begin with asking the following question, why is it that the enemy have left the new england provinces, and made these middle ones the seat of war? the answer is easy: new england is not infested with tories, and we are. i have been tender in raising the cry against these men, and used numberless arguments to show them their danger, but it will not do to sacrifice a world either to their folly or their baseness. the period is now arrived, in which either they or we must change our sentiments, or one or both must fall. and what is a tory? good god! what is he? i should not be afraid to go with a hundred whigs against a thousand tories, were they to attempt to get into arms. every tory is a coward; for servile, slavish, self-interested fear is the foundation of toryism; and a man under such influence, though he may be cruel, never can be brave. but, before the line of irrecoverable separation be drawn between us, let us reason the matter together: your conduct is an invitation to the enemy, yet not one in a thousand of you has heart enough to join him. howe is as much deceived by you as the american cause is injured by you. he expects you will all take up arms, and flock to his standard, with muskets on your shoulders. your opinions are of no use to him, unless you support him personally, for 'tis soldiers, and not tories, that he wants. i once felt all that kind of anger, which a man ought to feel, against the mean principles that are held by the tories: a noted one, who kept a tavern at amboy, was standing at his door, with as pretty a child in his hand, about eight or nine years old, as i ever saw, and after speaking his mind as freely as he thought was prudent, finished with this unfatherly expression, "well! give me peace in my day." not a man lives on the continent but fully believes that a separation must some time or other finally take place, and a generous parent should have said, "if there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace;" and this single reflection, well applied, is sufficient to awaken every man to duty. not a place upon earth might be so happy as america. her situation is remote from all the wrangling world, and she has nothing to do but to trade with them. a man can distinguish himself between temper and principle, and i am as confident, as i am that god governs the world, that america will never be happy till she gets clear of foreign dominion. wars, without ceasing, will break out till that period arrives, and the continent must in the end be conqueror; for though the flame of liberty may sometimes cease to shine, the coal can never expire. america did not, nor does not want force; but she wanted a proper application of that force. wisdom is not the purchase of a day, and it is no wonder that we should err at the first setting off. from an excess of tenderness, we were unwilling to raise an army, and trusted our cause to the temporary defence of a well-meaning militia. a summer's experience has now taught us better; yet with those troops, while they were collected, we were able to set bounds to the progress of the enemy, and, thank god! they are again assembling. i always considered militia as the best troops in the world for a sudden exertion, but they will not do for a long campaign. howe, it is probable, will make an attempt on this city [philadelphia]; should he fail on this side the delaware, he is ruined. if he succeeds, our cause is not ruined. he stakes all on his side against a part on ours; admitting he succeeds, the consequence will be, that armies from both ends of the continent will march to assist their suffering friends in the middle states; for he cannot go everywhere, it is impossible. i consider howe as the greatest enemy the tories have; he is bringing a war into their country, which, had it not been for him and partly for themselves, they had been clear of. should he now be expelled, i wish with all the devotion of a christian, that the names of whig and tory may never more be mentioned; but should the tories give him encouragement to come, or assistance if he come, i as sincerely wish that our next year's arms may expel them from the continent, and the congress appropriate their possessions to the relief of those who have suffered in well-doing. a single successful battle next year will settle the whole. america could carry on a two years' war by the confiscation of the property of disaffected persons, and be made happy by their expulsion. say not that this is revenge, call it rather the soft resentment of a suffering people, who, having no object in view but the good of all, have staked their own all upon a seemingly doubtful event. yet it is folly to argue against determined hardness; eloquence may strike the ear, and the language of sorrow draw forth the tear of compassion, but nothing can reach the heart that is steeled with prejudice. quitting this class of men, i turn with the warm ardor of a friend to those who have nobly stood, and are yet determined to stand the matter out: i call not upon a few, but upon all: not on this state or that state, but on every state: up and help us; lay your shoulders to the wheel; better have too much force than too little, when so great an object is at stake. let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet and to repulse it. say not that thousands are gone, turn out your tens of thousands; throw not the burden of the day upon providence, but "show your faith by your works," that god may bless you. it matters not where you live, or what rank of life you hold, the evil or the blessing will reach you all. the far and the near, the home counties and the back, the rich and the poor, will suffer or rejoice alike. the heart that feels not now is dead; the blood of his children will curse his cowardice, who shrinks back at a time when a little might have saved the whole, and made them happy. i love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death. my own line of reasoning is to myself as straight and clear as a ray of light. not all the treasures of the world, so far as i believe, could have induced me to support an offensive war, for i think it murder; but if a thief breaks into my house, burns and destroys my property, and kills or threatens to kill me, or those that are in it, and to "bind me in all cases whatsoever" to his absolute will, am i to suffer it? what signifies it to me, whether he who does it is a king or a common man; my countryman or not my countryman; whether it be done by an individual villain, or an army of them? if we reason to the root of things we shall find no difference; neither can any just cause be assigned why we should punish in the one case and pardon in the other. let them call me rebel and welcome, i feel no concern from it; but i should suffer the misery of devils, were i to make a whore of my soul by swearing allegiance to one whose character is that of a sottish, stupid, stubborn, worthless, brutish man. i conceive likewise a horrid idea in receiving mercy from a being, who at the last day shall be shrieking to the rocks and mountains to cover him, and fleeing with terror from the orphan, the widow, and the slain of america. there are cases which cannot be overdone by language, and this is one. there are persons, too, who see not the full extent of the evil which threatens them; they solace themselves with hopes that the enemy, if he succeed, will be merciful. it is the madness of folly, to expect mercy from those who have refused to do justice; and even mercy, where conquest is the object, is only a trick of war; the cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence of the wolf, and we ought to guard equally against both. howe's first object is, partly by threats and partly by promises, to terrify or seduce the people to deliver up their arms and receive mercy. the ministry recommended the same plan to gage, and this is what the tories call making their peace, "a peace which passeth all understanding" indeed! a peace which would be the immediate forerunner of a worse ruin than any we have yet thought of. ye men of pennsylvania, do reason upon these things! were the back counties to give up their arms, they would fall an easy prey to the indians, who are all armed: this perhaps is what some tories would not be sorry for. were the home counties to deliver up their arms, they would be exposed to the resentment of the back counties who would then have it in their power to chastise their defection at pleasure. and were any one state to give up its arms, that state must be garrisoned by all howe's army of britons and hessians to preserve it from the anger of the rest. mutual fear is the principal link in the chain of mutual love, and woe be to that state that breaks the compact. howe is mercifully inviting you to barbarous destruction, and men must be either rogues or fools that will not see it. i dwell not upon the vapors of imagination; i bring reason to your ears, and, in language as plain as a, b, c, hold up truth to your eyes. i thank god, that i fear not. i see no real cause for fear. i know our situation well, and can see the way out of it. while our army was collected, howe dared not risk a battle; and it is no credit to him that he decamped from the white plains, and waited a mean opportunity to ravage the defenceless jerseys; but it is great credit to us, that, with a handful of men, we sustained an orderly retreat for near an hundred miles, brought off our ammunition, all our field pieces, the greatest part of our stores, and had four rivers to pass. none can say that our retreat was precipitate, for we were near three weeks in performing it, that the country might have time to come in. twice we marched back to meet the enemy, and remained out till dark. the sign of fear was not seen in our camp, and had not some of the cowardly and disaffected inhabitants spread false alarms through the country, the jerseys had never been ravaged. once more we are again collected and collecting; our new army at both ends of the continent is recruiting fast, and we shall be able to open the next campaign with sixty thousand men, well armed and clothed. this is our situation, and who will may know it. by perseverance and fortitude we have the prospect of a glorious issue; by cowardice and submission, the sad choice of a variety of evils--a ravaged country--a depopulated city--habitations without safety, and slavery without hope--our homes turned into barracks and bawdy-houses for hessians, and a future race to provide for, whose fathers we shall doubt of. look on this picture and weep over it! and if there yet remains one thoughtless wretch who believes it not, let him suffer it unlamented. common sense. december , . the crisis ii. to lord howe. "what's in the name of lord, that i should fear to bring my grievance to the public ear?" churchill. universal empire is the prerogative of a writer. his concerns are with all mankind, and though he cannot command their obedience, he can assign them their duty. the republic of letters is more ancient than monarchy, and of far higher character in the world than the vassal court of britain; he that rebels against reason is a real rebel, but he that in defence of reason rebels against tyranny has a better title to "defender of the faith," than george the third. as a military man your lordship may hold out the sword of war, and call it the "ultima ratio regum": the last reason of kings; we in return can show you the sword of justice, and call it "the best scourge of tyrants." the first of these two may threaten, or even frighten for a while, and cast a sickly languor over an insulted people, but reason will soon recover the debauch, and restore them again to tranquil fortitude. your lordship, i find, has now commenced author, and published a proclamation; i have published a crisis. as they stand, they are the antipodes of each other; both cannot rise at once, and one of them must descend; and so quick is the revolution of things, that your lordship's performance, i see, has already fallen many degrees from its first place, and is now just visible on the edge of the political horizon. it is surprising to what a pitch of infatuation, blind folly and obstinacy will carry mankind, and your lordship's drowsy proclamation is a proof that it does not even quit them in their sleep. perhaps you thought america too was taking a nap, and therefore chose, like satan to eve, to whisper the delusion softly, lest you should awaken her. this continent, sir, is too extensive to sleep all at once, and too watchful, even in its slumbers, not to startle at the unhallowed foot of an invader. you may issue your proclamations, and welcome, for we have learned to "reverence ourselves," and scorn the insulting ruffian that employs you. america, for your deceased brother's sake, would gladly have shown you respect and it is a new aggravation to her feelings, that howe should be forgetful, and raise his sword against those, who at their own charge raised a monument to his brother. but your master has commanded, and you have not enough of nature left to refuse. surely there must be something strangely degenerating in the love of monarchy, that can so completely wear a man down to an ingrate, and make him proud to lick the dust that kings have trod upon. a few more years, should you survive them, will bestow on you the title of "an old man": and in some hour of future reflection you may probably find the fitness of wolsey's despairing penitence--"had i served my god as faithful as i have served my king, he would not thus have forsaken me in my old age." the character you appear to us in, is truly ridiculous. your friends, the tories, announced your coming, with high descriptions of your unlimited powers; but your proclamation has given them the lie, by showing you to be a commissioner without authority. had your powers been ever so great they were nothing to us, further than we pleased; because we had the same right which other nations had, to do what we thought was best. "the united states of america," will sound as pompously in the world or in history, as "the kingdom of great britain"; the character of general washington will fill a page with as much lustre as that of lord howe: and the congress have as much right to command the king and parliament in london to desist from legislation, as they or you have to command the congress. only suppose how laughable such an edict would appear from us, and then, in that merry mood, do but turn the tables upon yourself, and you will see how your proclamation is received here. having thus placed you in a proper position in which you may have a full view of your folly, and learn to despise it, i hold up to you, for that purpose, the following quotation from your own lunarian proclamation.--"and we (lord howe and general howe) do command (and in his majesty's name forsooth) all such persons as are assembled together, under the name of general or provincial congresses, committees, conventions or other associations, by whatever name or names known and distinguished, to desist and cease from all such treasonable actings and doings." you introduce your proclamation by referring to your declarations of the th of july and th of september. in the last of these you sunk yourself below the character of a private gentleman. that i may not seem to accuse you unjustly, i shall state the circumstance: by a verbal invitation of yours, communicated to congress by general sullivan, then a prisoner on his parole, you signified your desire of conferring with some members of that body as private gentlemen. it was beneath the dignity of the american congress to pay any regard to a message that at best was but a genteel affront, and had too much of the ministerial complexion of tampering with private persons; and which might probably have been the case, had the gentlemen who were deputed on the business possessed that kind of easy virtue which an english courtier is so truly distinguished by. your request, however, was complied with, for honest men are naturally more tender of their civil than their political fame. the interview ended as every sensible man thought it would; for your lordship knows, as well as the writer of the crisis, that it is impossible for the king of england to promise the repeal, or even the revisal of any acts of parliament; wherefore, on your part, you had nothing to say, more than to request, in the room of demanding, the entire surrender of the continent; and then, if that was complied with, to promise that the inhabitants should escape with their lives. this was the upshot of the conference. you informed the conferees that you were two months in soliciting these powers. we ask, what powers? for as commissioner you have none. if you mean the power of pardoning, it is an oblique proof that your master was determined to sacrifice all before him; and that you were two months in dissuading him from his purpose. another evidence of his savage obstinacy! from your own account of the matter we may justly draw these two conclusions: st, that you serve a monster; and d, that never was a messenger sent on a more foolish errand than yourself. this plain language may perhaps sound uncouthly to an ear vitiated by courtly refinements, but words were made for use, and the fault lies in deserving them, or the abuse in applying them unfairly. soon after your return to new york, you published a very illiberal and unmanly handbill against the congress; for it was certainly stepping out of the line of common civility, first to screen your national pride by soliciting an interview with them as private gentlemen, and in the conclusion to endeavor to deceive the multitude by making a handbill attack on the whole body of the congress; you got them together under one name, and abused them under another. but the king you serve, and the cause you support, afford you so few instances of acting the gentleman, that out of pity to your situation the congress pardoned the insult by taking no notice of it. you say in that handbill, "that they, the congress, disavowed every purpose for reconciliation not consonant with their extravagant and inadmissible claim of independence." why, god bless me! what have you to do with our independence? we ask no leave of yours to set it up; we ask no money of yours to support it; we can do better without your fleets and armies than with them; you may soon have enough to do to protect yourselves without being burdened with us. we are very willing to be at peace with you, to buy of you and sell to you, and, like young beginners in the world, to work for our living; therefore, why do you put yourselves out of cash, when we know you cannot spare it, and we do not desire you to run into debt? i am willing, sir, that you should see your folly in every point of view i can place it in, and for that reason descend sometimes to tell you in jest what i wish you to see in earnest. but to be more serious with you, why do you say, "their independence?" to set you right, sir, we tell you, that the independency is ours, not theirs. the congress were authorized by every state on the continent to publish it to all the world, and in so doing are not to be considered as the inventors, but only as the heralds that proclaimed it, or the office from which the sense of the people received a legal form; and it was as much as any or all their heads were worth, to have treated with you on the subject of submission under any name whatever. but we know the men in whom we have trusted; can england say the same of her parliament? i come now more particularly to your proclamation of the th of november last. had you gained an entire conquest over all the armies of america, and then put forth a proclamation, offering (what you call) mercy, your conduct would have had some specious show of humanity; but to creep by surprise into a province, and there endeavor to terrify and seduce the inhabitants from their just allegiance to the rest by promises, which you neither meant nor were able to fulfil, is both cruel and unmanly: cruel in its effects; because, unless you can keep all the ground you have marched over, how are you, in the words of your proclamation, to secure to your proselytes "the enjoyment of their property?" what is to become either of your new adopted subjects, or your old friends, the tories, in burlington, bordentown, trenton, mount holly, and many other places, where you proudly lorded it for a few days, and then fled with the precipitation of a pursued thief? what, i say, is to become of those wretches? what is to become of those who went over to you from this city and state? what more can you say to them than "shift for yourselves?" or what more can they hope for than to wander like vagabonds over the face of the earth? you may now tell them to take their leave of america, and all that once was theirs. recommend them, for consolation, to your master's court; there perhaps they may make a shift to live on the scraps of some dangling parasite, and choose companions among thousands like themselves. a traitor is the foulest fiend on earth. in a political sense we ought to thank you for thus bequeathing estates to the continent; we shall soon, at this rate, be able to carry on a war without expense, and grow rich by the ill policy of lord howe, and the generous defection of the tories. had you set your foot into this city, you would have bestowed estates upon us which we never thought of, by bringing forth traitors we were unwilling to suspect. but these men, you'll say, "are his majesty's most faithful subjects;" let that honor, then, be all their fortune, and let his majesty take them to himself. i am now thoroughly disgusted with them; they live in ungrateful ease, and bend their whole minds to mischief. it seems as if god had given them over to a spirit of infidelity, and that they are open to conviction in no other line but that of punishment. it is time to have done with tarring, feathering, carting, and taking securities for their future good behavior; every sensible man must feel a conscious shame at seeing a poor fellow hawked for a show about the streets, when it is known he is only the tool of some principal villain, biassed into his offence by the force of false reasoning, or bribed thereto, through sad necessity. we dishonor ourselves by attacking such trifling characters while greater ones are suffered to escape; 'tis our duty to find them out, and their proper punishment would be to exile them from the continent for ever. the circle of them is not so great as some imagine; the influence of a few have tainted many who are not naturally corrupt. a continual circulation of lies among those who are not much in the way of hearing them contradicted, will in time pass for truth; and the crime lies not in the believer but the inventor. i am not for declaring war with every man that appears not so warm as myself: difference of constitution, temper, habit of speaking, and many other things, will go a great way in fixing the outward character of a man, yet simple honesty may remain at bottom. some men have naturally a military turn, and can brave hardships and the risk of life with a cheerful face; others have not; no slavery appears to them so great as the fatigue of arms, and no terror so powerful as that of personal danger. what can we say? we cannot alter nature, neither ought we to punish the son because the father begot him in a cowardly mood. however, i believe most men have more courage than they know of, and that a little at first is enough to begin with. i knew the time when i thought that the whistling of a cannon ball would have frightened me almost to death; but i have since tried it, and find that i can stand it with as little discomposure, and, i believe, with a much easier conscience than your lordship. the same dread would return to me again were i in your situation, for my solemn belief of your cause is, that it is hellish and damnable, and, under that conviction, every thinking man's heart must fail him. from a concern that a good cause should be dishonored by the least disunion among us, i said in my former paper, no. i. "that should the enemy now be expelled, i wish, with all the sincerity of a christian, that the names of whig and tory might never more be mentioned;" but there is a knot of men among us of such a venomous cast, that they will not admit even one's good wishes to act in their favor. instead of rejoicing that heaven had, as it were, providentially preserved this city from plunder and destruction, by delivering so great a part of the enemy into our hands with so little effusion of blood, they stubbornly affected to disbelieve it till within an hour, nay, half an hour, of the prisoners arriving; and the quakers put forth a testimony, dated the th of december, signed "john pemberton," declaring their attachment to the british government.* these men are continually harping on the great sin of our bearing arms, but the king of britain may lay waste the world in blood and famine, and they, poor fallen souls, have nothing to say. * i have ever been careful of charging offences upon whole societies of men, but as the paper referred to is put forth by an unknown set of men, who claim to themselves the right of representing the whole: and while the whole society of quakers admit its validity by a silent acknowledgment, it is impossible that any distinction can be made by the public: and the more so, because the new york paper of the th of december, printed by permission of our enemies, says that "the quakers begin to speak openly of their attachment to the british constitution." we are certain that we have many friends among them, and wish to know them. in some future paper i intend to distinguish between the different kind of persons who have been denominated tories; for this i am clear in, that all are not so who have been called so, nor all men whigs who were once thought so; and as i mean not to conceal the name of any true friend when there shall be occasion to mention him, neither will i that of an enemy, who ought to be known, let his rank, station or religion be what it may. much pains have been taken by some to set your lordship's private character in an amiable light, but as it has chiefly been done by men who know nothing about you, and who are no ways remarkable for their attachment to us, we have no just authority for believing it. george the third has imposed upon us by the same arts, but time, at length, has done him justice, and the same fate may probably attend your lordship. you avowed purpose here is to kill, conquer, plunder, pardon, and enslave: and the ravages of your army through the jerseys have been marked with as much barbarism as if you had openly professed yourself the prince of ruffians; not even the appearance of humanity has been preserved either on the march or the retreat of your troops; no general order that i could ever learn, has ever been issued to prevent or even forbid your troops from robbery, wherever they came, and the only instance of justice, if it can be called such, which has distinguished you for impartiality, is, that you treated and plundered all alike; what could not be carried away has been destroyed, and mahogany furniture has been deliberately laid on fire for fuel, rather than the men should be fatigued with cutting wood.* there was a time when the whigs confided much in your supposed candor, and the tories rested themselves in your favor; the experiments have now been made, and failed; in every town, nay, every cottage, in the jerseys, where your arms have been, is a testimony against you. how you may rest under this sacrifice of character i know not; but this i know, that you sleep and rise with the daily curses of thousands upon you; perhaps the misery which the tories have suffered by your proffered mercy may give them some claim to their country's pity, and be in the end the best favor you could show them. * as some people may doubt the truth of such wanton destruction, i think it necessary to inform them that one of the people called quakers, who lives at trenton, gave me this information at the house of mr. michael hutchinson, (one of the same profession,) who lives near trenton ferry on the pennsylvania side, mr. hutchinson being present. in a folio general-order book belonging to col. rhal's battalion, taken at trenton, and now in the possession of the council of safety for this state, the following barbarous order is frequently repeated, "his excellency the commander-in-chief orders, that all inhabitants who shall be found with arms, not having an officer with them, shall be immediately taken and hung up." how many you may thus have privately sacrificed, we know not, and the account can only be settled in another world. your treatment of prisoners, in order to distress them to enlist in your infernal service, is not to be equalled by any instance in europe. yet this is the humane lord howe and his brother, whom the tories and their three-quarter kindred, the quakers, or some of them at least, have been holding up for patterns of justice and mercy! a bad cause will ever be supported by bad means and bad men; and whoever will be at the pains of examining strictly into things, will find that one and the same spirit of oppression and impiety, more or less, governs through your whole party in both countries: not many days ago, i accidentally fell in company with a person of this city noted for espousing your cause, and on my remarking to him, "that it appeared clear to me, by the late providential turn of affairs, that god almighty was visibly on our side," he replied, "we care nothing for that you may have him, and welcome; if we have but enough of the devil on our side, we shall do." however carelessly this might be spoken, matters not, 'tis still the insensible principle that directs all your conduct and will at last most assuredly deceive and ruin you. if ever a nation was made and foolish, blind to its own interest and bent on its own destruction, it is britain. there are such things as national sins, and though the punishment of individuals may be reserved to another world, national punishment can only be inflicted in this world. britain, as a nation, is, in my inmost belief, the greatest and most ungrateful offender against god on the face of the whole earth. blessed with all the commerce she could wish for, and furnished, by a vast extension of dominion, with the means of civilizing both the eastern and western world, she has made no other use of both than proudly to idolize her own "thunder," and rip up the bowels of whole countries for what she could get. like alexander, she has made war her sport, and inflicted misery for prodigality's sake. the blood of india is not yet repaid, nor the wretchedness of africa yet requited. of late she has enlarged her list of national cruelties by her butcherly destruction of the caribbs of st. vincent's, and returning an answer by the sword to the meek prayer for "peace, liberty and safety." these are serious things, and whatever a foolish tyrant, a debauched court, a trafficking legislature, or a blinded people may think, the national account with heaven must some day or other be settled: all countries have sooner or later been called to their reckoning; the proudest empires have sunk when the balance was struck; and britain, like an individual penitent, must undergo her day of sorrow, and the sooner it happens to her the better. as i wish it over, i wish it to come, but withal wish that it may be as light as possible. perhaps your lordship has no taste for serious things; by your connections in england i should suppose not; therefore i shall drop this part of the subject, and take it up in a line in which you will better understand me. by what means, may i ask, do you expect to conquer america? if you could not effect it in the summer, when our army was less than yours, nor in the winter, when we had none, how are you to do it? in point of generalship you have been outwitted, and in point of fortitude outdone; your advantages turn out to your loss, and show us that it is in our power to ruin you by gifts: like a game of drafts, we can move out of one square to let you come in, in order that we may afterwards take two or three for one; and as we can always keep a double corner for ourselves, we can always prevent a total defeat. you cannot be so insensible as not to see that we have two to one the advantage of you, because we conquer by a drawn game, and you lose by it. burgoyne might have taught your lordship this knowledge; he has been long a student in the doctrine of chances. i have no other idea of conquering countries than by subduing the armies which defend them: have you done this, or can you do it? if you have not, it would be civil in you to let your proclamations alone for the present; otherwise, you will ruin more tories by your grace and favor, than you will whigs by your arms. were you to obtain possession of this city, you would not know what to do with it more than to plunder it. to hold it in the manner you hold new york, would be an additional dead weight upon your hands; and if a general conquest is your object, you had better be without the city than with it. when you have defeated all our armies, the cities will fall into your hands of themselves; but to creep into them in the manner you got into princeton, trenton, &c. is like robbing an orchard in the night before the fruit be ripe, and running away in the morning. your experiment in the jerseys is sufficient to teach you that you have something more to do than barely to get into other people's houses; and your new converts, to whom you promised all manner of protection, and seduced into new guilt by pardoning them from their former virtues, must begin to have a very contemptible opinion both of your power and your policy. your authority in the jerseys is now reduced to the small circle which your army occupies, and your proclamation is no where else seen unless it be to be laughed at. the mighty subduers of the continent have retreated into a nutshell, and the proud forgivers of our sins are fled from those they came to pardon; and all this at a time when they were despatching vessel after vessel to england with the great news of every day. in short, you have managed your jersey expedition so very dexterously, that the dead only are conquerors, because none will dispute the ground with them. in all the wars which you have formerly been concerned in you had only armies to contend with; in this case you have both an army and a country to combat with. in former wars, the countries followed the fate of their capitals; canada fell with quebec, and minorca with port mahon or st. phillips; by subduing those, the conquerors opened a way into, and became masters of the country: here it is otherwise; if you get possession of a city here, you are obliged to shut yourselves up in it, and can make no other use of it, than to spend your country's money in. this is all the advantage you have drawn from new york; and you would draw less from philadelphia, because it requires more force to keep it, and is much further from the sea. a pretty figure you and the tories would cut in this city, with a river full of ice, and a town full of fire; for the immediate consequence of your getting here would be, that you would be cannonaded out again, and the tories be obliged to make good the damage; and this sooner or later will be the fate of new york. i wish to see the city saved, not so much from military as from natural motives. 'tis the hiding place of women and children, and lord howe's proper business is with our armies. when i put all the circumstances together which ought to be taken, i laugh at your notion of conquering america. because you lived in a little country, where an army might run over the whole in a few days, and where a single company of soldiers might put a multitude to the rout, you expected to find it the same here. it is plain that you brought over with you all the narrow notions you were bred up with, and imagined that a proclamation in the king's name was to do great things; but englishmen always travel for knowledge, and your lordship, i hope, will return, if you return at all, much wiser than you came. we may be surprised by events we did not expect, and in that interval of recollection you may gain some temporary advantage: such was the case a few weeks ago, but we soon ripen again into reason, collect our strength, and while you are preparing for a triumph, we come upon you with a defeat. such it has been, and such it would be were you to try it a hundred times over. were you to garrison the places you might march over, in order to secure their subjection, (for remember you can do it by no other means,) your army would be like a stream of water running to nothing. by the time you extended from new york to virginia, you would be reduced to a string of drops not capable of hanging together; while we, by retreating from state to state, like a river turning back upon itself, would acquire strength in the same proportion as you lost it, and in the end be capable of overwhelming you. the country, in the meantime, would suffer, but it is a day of suffering, and we ought to expect it. what we contend for is worthy the affliction we may go through. if we get but bread to eat, and any kind of raiment to put on, we ought not only to be contented, but thankful. more than that we ought not to look for, and less than that heaven has not yet suffered us to want. he that would sell his birthright for a little salt, is as worthless as he who sold it for pottage without salt; and he that would part with it for a gay coat, or a plain coat, ought for ever to be a slave in buff. what are salt, sugar and finery, to the inestimable blessings of "liberty and safety!" or what are the inconveniences of a few months to the tributary bondage of ages? the meanest peasant in america, blessed with these sentiments, is a happy man compared with a new york tory; he can eat his morsel without repining, and when he has done, can sweeten it with a repast of wholesome air; he can take his child by the hand and bless it, without feeling the conscious shame of neglecting a parent's duty. in publishing these remarks i have several objects in view. on your part they are to expose the folly of your pretended authority as a commissioner; the wickedness of your cause in general; and the impossibility of your conquering us at any rate. on the part of the public, my intention is, to show them their true and sold interest; to encourage them to their own good, to remove the fears and falsities which bad men have spread, and weak men have encouraged; and to excite in all men a love for union, and a cheerfulness for duty. i shall submit one more case to you respecting your conquest of this country, and then proceed to new observations. suppose our armies in every part of this continent were immediately to disperse, every man to his home, or where else he might be safe, and engage to reassemble again on a certain future day; it is clear that you would then have no army to contend with, yet you would be as much at a loss in that case as you are now; you would be afraid to send your troops in parties over to the continent, either to disarm or prevent us from assembling, lest they should not return; and while you kept them together, having no arms of ours to dispute with, you could not call it a conquest; you might furnish out a pompous page in the london gazette or a new york paper, but when we returned at the appointed time, you would have the same work to do that you had at first. it has been the folly of britain to suppose herself more powerful than she really is, and by that means has arrogated to herself a rank in the world she is not entitled to: for more than this century past she has not been able to carry on a war without foreign assistance. in marlborough's campaigns, and from that day to this, the number of german troops and officers assisting her have been about equal with her own; ten thousand hessians were sent to england last war to protect her from a french invasion; and she would have cut but a poor figure in her canadian and west indian expeditions, had not america been lavish both of her money and men to help her along. the only instance in which she was engaged singly, that i can recollect, was against the rebellion in scotland, in the years and , and in that, out of three battles, she was twice beaten, till by thus reducing their numbers, (as we shall yours) and taking a supply ship that was coming to scotland with clothes, arms and money, (as we have often done,) she was at last enabled to defeat them. england was never famous by land; her officers have generally been suspected of cowardice, have more of the air of a dancing-master than a soldier, and by the samples which we have taken prisoners, we give the preference to ourselves. her strength, of late, has lain in her extravagance; but as her finances and credit are now low, her sinews in that line begin to fail fast. as a nation she is the poorest in europe; for were the whole kingdom, and all that is in it, to be put up for sale like the estate of a bankrupt, it would not fetch as much as she owes; yet this thoughtless wretch must go to war, and with the avowed design, too, of making us beasts of burden, to support her in riot and debauchery, and to assist her afterwards in distressing those nations who are now our best friends. this ingratitude may suit a tory, or the unchristian peevishness of a fallen quaker, but none else. 'tis the unhappy temper of the english to be pleased with any war, right or wrong, be it but successful; but they soon grow discontented with ill fortune, and it is an even chance that they are as clamorous for peace next summer, as the king and his ministers were for war last winter. in this natural view of things, your lordship stands in a very critical situation: your whole character is now staked upon your laurels; if they wither, you wither with them; if they flourish, you cannot live long to look at them; and at any rate, the black account hereafter is not far off. what lately appeared to us misfortunes, were only blessings in disguise; and the seeming advantages on your side have turned out to our profit. even our loss of this city, as far as we can see, might be a principal gain to us: the more surface you spread over, the thinner you will be, and the easier wiped away; and our consolation under that apparent disaster would be, that the estates of the tories would become securities for the repairs. in short, there is no old ground we can fail upon, but some new foundation rises again to support us. "we have put, sir, our hands to the plough, and cursed be he that looketh back." your king, in his speech to parliament last spring, declared, "that he had no doubt but the great force they had enabled him to send to america, would effectually reduce the rebellious colonies." it has not, neither can it; but it has done just enough to lay the foundation of its own next year's ruin. you are sensible that you left england in a divided, distracted state of politics, and, by the command you had here, you became a principal prop in the court party; their fortunes rest on yours; by a single express you can fix their value with the public, and the degree to which their spirits shall rise or fall; they are in your hands as stock, and you have the secret of the alley with you. thus situated and connected, you become the unintentional mechanical instrument of your own and their overthrow. the king and his ministers put conquest out of doubt, and the credit of both depended on the proof. to support them in the interim, it was necessary that you should make the most of every thing, and we can tell by hugh gaine's new york paper what the complexion of the london gazette is. with such a list of victories the nation cannot expect you will ask new supplies; and to confess your want of them would give the lie to your triumphs, and impeach the king and his ministers of treasonable deception. if you make the necessary demand at home, your party sinks; if you make it not, you sink yourself; to ask it now is too late, and to ask it before was too soon, and unless it arrive quickly will be of no use. in short, the part you have to act, cannot be acted; and i am fully persuaded that all you have to trust to is, to do the best you can with what force you have got, or little more. though we have greatly exceeded you in point of generalship and bravery of men, yet, as a people, we have not entered into the full soul of enterprise; for i, who know england and the disposition of the people well, am confident, that it is easier for us to effect a revolution there, than you a conquest here; a few thousand men landed in england with the declared design of deposing the present king, bringing his ministers to trial, and setting up the duke of gloucester in his stead, would assuredly carry their point, while you are grovelling here, ignorant of the matter. as i send all my papers to england, this, like common sense, will find its way there; and though it may put one party on their guard, it will inform the other, and the nation in general, of our design to help them. thus far, sir, i have endeavored to give you a picture of present affairs: you may draw from it what conclusions you please. i wish as well to the true prosperity of england as you can, but i consider independence as america's natural right and interest, and never could see any real disservice it would be to britain. if an english merchant receives an order, and is paid for it, it signifies nothing to him who governs the country. this is my creed of politics. if i have any where expressed myself over-warmly, 'tis from a fixed, immovable hatred i have, and ever had, to cruel men and cruel measures. i have likewise an aversion to monarchy, as being too debasing to the dignity of man; but i never troubled others with my notions till very lately, nor ever published a syllable in england in my life. what i write is pure nature, and my pen and my soul have ever gone together. my writings i have always given away, reserving only the expense of printing and paper, and sometimes not even that. i never courted either fame or interest, and my manner of life, to those who know it, will justify what i say. my study is to be useful, and if your lordship loves mankind as well as i do, you would, seeing you cannot conquer us, cast about and lend your hand towards accomplishing a peace. our independence with god's blessing we will maintain against all the world; but as we wish to avoid evil ourselves, we wish not to inflict it on others. i am never over-inquisitive into the secrets of the cabinet, but i have some notion that, if you neglect the present opportunity, it will not be in our power to make a separate peace with you afterwards; for whatever treaties or alliances we form, we shall most faithfully abide by; wherefore you may be deceived if you think you can make it with us at any time. a lasting independent peace is my wish, end and aim; and to accomplish that, i pray god the americans may never be defeated, and i trust while they have good officers, and are well commanded, and willing to be commanded, that they never will be. common sense. philadelphia, jan. , . the crisis iii. (in the progress of politics) in the progress of politics, as in the common occurrences of life, we are not only apt to forget the ground we have travelled over, but frequently neglect to gather up experience as we go. we expend, if i may so say, the knowledge of every day on the circumstances that produce it, and journey on in search of new matter and new refinements: but as it is pleasant and sometimes useful to look back, even to the first periods of infancy, and trace the turns and windings through which we have passed, so we may likewise derive many advantages by halting a while in our political career, and taking a review of the wondrous complicated labyrinth of little more than yesterday. truly may we say, that never did men grow old in so short a time! we have crowded the business of an age into the compass of a few months, and have been driven through such a rapid succession of things, that for the want of leisure to think, we unavoidably wasted knowledge as we came, and have left nearly as much behind us as we brought with us: but the road is yet rich with the fragments, and, before we finally lose sight of them, will repay us for the trouble of stopping to pick them up. were a man to be totally deprived of memory, he would be incapable of forming any just opinion; every thing about him would seem a chaos: he would have even his own history to ask from every one; and by not knowing how the world went in his absence, he would be at a loss to know how it ought to go on when he recovered, or rather, returned to it again. in like manner, though in a less degree, a too great inattention to past occurrences retards and bewilders our judgment in everything; while, on the contrary, by comparing what is past with what is present, we frequently hit on the true character of both, and become wise with very little trouble. it is a kind of counter-march, by which we get into the rear of time, and mark the movements and meaning of things as we make our return. there are certain circumstances, which, at the time of their happening, are a kind of riddles, and as every riddle is to be followed by its answer, so those kind of circumstances will be followed by their events, and those events are always the true solution. a considerable space of time may lapse between, and unless we continue our observations from the one to the other, the harmony of them will pass away unnoticed: but the misfortune is, that partly from the pressing necessity of some instant things, and partly from the impatience of our own tempers, we are frequently in such a hurry to make out the meaning of everything as fast as it happens, that we thereby never truly understand it; and not only start new difficulties to ourselves by so doing, but, as it were, embarrass providence in her good designs. i have been civil in stating this fault on a large scale, for, as it now stands, it does not appear to be levelled against any particular set of men; but were it to be refined a little further, it might afterwards be applied to the tories with a degree of striking propriety: those men have been remarkable for drawing sudden conclusions from single facts. the least apparent mishap on our side, or the least seeming advantage on the part of the enemy, have determined with them the fate of a whole campaign. by this hasty judgment they have converted a retreat into a defeat; mistook generalship for error; while every little advantage purposely given the enemy, either to weaken their strength by dividing it, embarrass their councils by multiplying their objects, or to secure a greater post by the surrender of a less, has been instantly magnified into a conquest. thus, by quartering ill policy upon ill principles, they have frequently promoted the cause they designed to injure, and injured that which they intended to promote. it is probable the campaign may open before this number comes from the press. the enemy have long lain idle, and amused themselves with carrying on the war by proclamations only. while they continue their delay our strength increases, and were they to move to action now, it is a circumstantial proof that they have no reinforcement coming; wherefore, in either case, the comparative advantage will be ours. like a wounded, disabled whale, they want only time and room to die in; and though in the agony of their exit, it may be unsafe to live within the flapping of their tail, yet every hour shortens their date, and lessens their power of mischief. if any thing happens while this number is in the press, it will afford me a subject for the last pages of it. at present i am tired of waiting; and as neither the enemy, nor the state of politics have yet produced any thing new, i am thereby left in the field of general matter, undirected by any striking or particular object. this crisis, therefore, will be made up rather of variety than novelty, and consist more of things useful than things wonderful. the success of the cause, the union of the people, and the means of supporting and securing both, are points which cannot be too much attended to. he who doubts of the former is a desponding coward, and he who wilfully disturbs the latter is a traitor. their characters are easily fixed, and under these short descriptions i leave them for the present. one of the greatest degrees of sentimental union which america ever knew, was in denying the right of the british parliament "to bind the colonies in all cases whatsoever." the declaration is, in its form, an almighty one, and is the loftiest stretch of arbitrary power that ever one set of men or one country claimed over another. taxation was nothing more than the putting the declared right into practice; and this failing, recourse was had to arms, as a means to establish both the right and the practice, or to answer a worse purpose, which will be mentioned in the course of this number. and in order to repay themselves the expense of an army, and to profit by their own injustice, the colonies were, by another law, declared to be in a state of actual rebellion, and of consequence all property therein would fall to the conquerors. the colonies, on their part, first, denied the right; secondly, they suspended the use of taxable articles, and petitioned against the practice of taxation: and these failing, they, thirdly, defended their property by force, as soon as it was forcibly invaded, and, in answer to the declaration of rebellion and non-protection, published their declaration of independence and right of self-protection. these, in a few words, are the different stages of the quarrel; and the parts are so intimately and necessarily connected with each other as to admit of no separation. a person, to use a trite phrase, must be a whig or a tory in a lump. his feelings, as a man, may be wounded; his charity, as a christian, may be moved; but his political principles must go through all the cases on one side or the other. he cannot be a whig in this stage, and a tory in that. if he says he is against the united independence of the continent, he is to all intents and purposes against her in all the rest; because this last comprehends the whole. and he may just as well say, that britain was right in declaring us rebels; right in taxing us; and right in declaring her "right to bind the colonies in all cases whatsoever." it signifies nothing what neutral ground, of his own creating, he may skulk upon for shelter, for the quarrel in no stage of it hath afforded any such ground; and either we or britain are absolutely right or absolutely wrong through the whole. britain, like a gamester nearly ruined, has now put all her losses into one bet, and is playing a desperate game for the total. if she wins it, she wins from me my life; she wins the continent as the forfeited property of rebels; the right of taxing those that are left as reduced subjects; and the power of binding them slaves: and the single die which determines this unparalleled event is, whether we support our independence or she overturn it. this is coming to the point at once. here is the touchstone to try men by. he that is not a supporter of the independent states of america in the same degree that his religious and political principles would suffer him to support the government of any other country, of which he called himself a subject, is, in the american sense of the word, a tory; and the instant that he endeavors to bring his toryism into practice, he becomes a traitor. the first can only be detected by a general test, and the law hath already provided for the latter. it is unnatural and impolitic to admit men who would root up our independence to have any share in our legislation, either as electors or representatives; because the support of our independence rests, in a great measure, on the vigor and purity of our public bodies. would britain, even in time of peace, much less in war, suffer an election to be carried by men who professed themselves to be not her subjects, or allow such to sit in parliament? certainly not. but there are a certain species of tories with whom conscience or principle has nothing to do, and who are so from avarice only. some of the first fortunes on the continent, on the part of the whigs, are staked on the issue of our present measures. and shall disaffection only be rewarded with security? can any thing be a greater inducement to a miserly man, than the hope of making his mammon safe? and though the scheme be fraught with every character of folly, yet, so long as he supposes, that by doing nothing materially criminal against america on one part, and by expressing his private disapprobation against independence, as palliative with the enemy, on the other part, he stands in a safe line between both; while, i say, this ground be suffered to remain, craft, and the spirit of avarice, will point it out, and men will not be wanting to fill up this most contemptible of all characters. these men, ashamed to own the sordid cause from whence their disaffection springs, add thereby meanness to meanness, by endeavoring to shelter themselves under the mask of hypocrisy; that is, they had rather be thought to be tories from some kind of principle, than tories by having no principle at all. but till such time as they can show some real reason, natural, political, or conscientious, on which their objections to independence are founded, we are not obliged to give them credit for being tories of the first stamp, but must set them down as tories of the last. in the second number of the crisis, i endeavored to show the impossibility of the enemy's making any conquest of america, that nothing was wanting on our part but patience and perseverance, and that, with these virtues, our success, as far as human speculation could discern, seemed as certain as fate. but as there are many among us, who, influenced by others, have regularly gone back from the principles they once held, in proportion as we have gone forward; and as it is the unfortunate lot of many a good man to live within the neighborhood of disaffected ones; i shall, therefore, for the sake of confirming the one and recovering the other, endeavor, in the space of a page or two, to go over some of the leading principles in support of independence. it is a much pleasanter task to prevent vice than to punish it, and, however our tempers may be gratified by resentment, or our national expenses eased by forfeited estates, harmony and friendship is, nevertheless, the happiest condition a country can be blessed with. the principal arguments in support of independence may be comprehended under the four following heads. st, the natural right of the continent to independence. d, her interest in being independent. d, the necessity,--and th, the moral advantages arising therefrom. i. the natural right of the continent to independence, is a point which never yet was called in question. it will not even admit of a debate. to deny such a right, would be a kind of atheism against nature: and the best answer to such an objection would be, "the fool hath said in his heart there is no god." ii. the interest of the continent in being independent is a point as clearly right as the former. america, by her own internal industry, and unknown to all the powers of europe, was, at the beginning of the dispute, arrived at a pitch of greatness, trade and population, beyond which it was the interest of britain not to suffer her to pass, lest she should grow too powerful to be kept subordinate. she began to view this country with the same uneasy malicious eye, with which a covetous guardian would view his ward, whose estate he had been enriching himself by for twenty years, and saw him just arriving at manhood. and america owes no more to britain for her present maturity, than the ward would to the guardian for being twenty-one years of age. that america hath flourished at the time she was under the government of britain, is true; but there is every natural reason to believe, that had she been an independent country from the first settlement thereof, uncontrolled by any foreign power, free to make her own laws, regulate and encourage her own commerce, she had by this time been of much greater worth than now. the case is simply this: the first settlers in the different colonies were left to shift for themselves, unnoticed and unsupported by any european government; but as the tyranny and persecution of the old world daily drove numbers to the new, and as, by the favor of heaven on their industry and perseverance, they grew into importance, so, in a like degree, they became an object of profit to the greedy eyes of europe. it was impossible, in this state of infancy, however thriving and promising, that they could resist the power of any armed invader that should seek to bring them under his authority. in this situation, britain thought it worth her while to claim them, and the continent received and acknowledged the claimer. it was, in reality, of no very great importance who was her master, seeing, that from the force and ambition of the different powers of europe, she must, till she acquired strength enough to assert her own right, acknowledge some one. as well, perhaps, britain as another; and it might have been as well to have been under the states of holland as any. the same hopes of engrossing and profiting by her trade, by not oppressing it too much, would have operated alike with any master, and produced to the colonies the same effects. the clamor of protection, likewise, was all a farce; because, in order to make that protection necessary, she must first, by her own quarrels, create us enemies. hard terms indeed! to know whether it be the interest of the continent to be independent, we need only ask this easy, simple question: is it the interest of a man to be a boy all his life? the answer to one will be the answer to both. america hath been one continued scene of legislative contention from the first king's representative to the last; and this was unavoidably founded in the natural opposition of interest between the old country and the new. a governor sent from england, or receiving his authority therefrom, ought never to have been considered in any other light than that of a genteel commissioned spy, whose private business was information, and his public business a kind of civilized oppression. in the first of these characters he was to watch the tempers, sentiments, and disposition of the people, the growth of trade, and the increase of private fortunes; and, in the latter, to suppress all such acts of the assemblies, however beneficial to the people, which did not directly or indirectly throw some increase of power or profit into the hands of those that sent him. america, till now, could never be called a free country, because her legislation depended on the will of a man three thousand miles distant, whose interest was in opposition to ours, and who, by a single "no," could forbid what law he pleased. the freedom of trade, likewise, is, to a trading country, an article of such importance, that the principal source of wealth depends upon it; and it is impossible that any country can flourish, as it otherwise might do, whose commerce is engrossed, cramped and fettered by the laws and mandates of another--yet these evils, and more than i can here enumerate, the continent has suffered by being under the government of england. by an independence we clear the whole at once--put an end to the business of unanswered petitions and fruitless remonstrances--exchange britain for europe--shake hands with the world--live at peace with the world--and trade to any market where we can buy and sell. iii. the necessity, likewise, of being independent, even before it was declared, became so evident and important, that the continent ran the risk of being ruined every day that she delayed it. there was reason to believe that britain would endeavor to make an european matter of it, and, rather than lose the whole, would dismember it, like poland, and dispose of her several claims to the highest bidder. genoa, failing in her attempts to reduce corsica, made a sale of it to the french, and such trafficks have been common in the old world. we had at that time no ambassador in any part of europe, to counteract her negotiations, and by that means she had the range of every foreign court uncontradicted on our part. we even knew nothing of the treaty for the hessians till it was concluded, and the troops ready to embark. had we been independent before, we had probably prevented her obtaining them. we had no credit abroad, because of our rebellious dependency. our ships could claim no protection in foreign ports, because we afforded them no justifiable reason for granting it to us. the calling ourselves subjects, and at the same time fighting against the power which we acknowledged, was a dangerous precedent to all europe. if the grievances justified the taking up arms, they justified our separation; if they did not justify our separation, neither could they justify our taking up arms. all europe was interested in reducing us as rebels, and all europe (or the greatest part at least) is interested in supporting us as independent states. at home our condition was still worse: our currency had no foundation, and the fall of it would have ruined whig and tory alike. we had no other law than a kind of moderated passion; no other civil power than an honest mob; and no other protection than the temporary attachment of one man to another. had independence been delayed a few months longer, this continent would have been plunged into irrecoverable confusion: some violent for it, some against it, till, in the general cabal, the rich would have been ruined, and the poor destroyed. it is to independence that every tory owes the present safety which he lives in; for by that, and that only, we emerged from a state of dangerous suspense, and became a regular people. the necessity, likewise, of being independent, had there been no rupture between britain and america, would, in a little time, have brought one on. the increasing importance of commerce, the weight and perplexity of legislation, and the entangled state of european politics, would daily have shown to the continent the impossibility of continuing subordinate; for, after the coolest reflections on the matter, this must be allowed, that britain was too jealous of america to govern it justly; too ignorant of it to govern it well; and too far distant from it to govern it at all. iv. but what weigh most with all men of serious reflection are, the moral advantages arising from independence: war and desolation have become the trade of the old world; and america neither could nor can be under the government of britain without becoming a sharer of her guilt, and a partner in all the dismal commerce of death. the spirit of duelling, extended on a national scale, is a proper character for european wars. they have seldom any other motive than pride, or any other object than fame. the conquerors and the conquered are generally ruined alike, and the chief difference at last is, that the one marches home with his honors, and the other without them. 'tis the natural temper of the english to fight for a feather, if they suppose that feather to be an affront; and america, without the right of asking why, must have abetted in every quarrel, and abided by its fate. it is a shocking situation to live in, that one country must be brought into all the wars of another, whether the measure be right or wrong, or whether she will or not; yet this, in the fullest extent, was, and ever would be, the unavoidable consequence of the connection. surely the quakers forgot their own principles when, in their late testimony, they called this connection, with these military and miserable appendages hanging to it--"the happy constitution." britain, for centuries past, has been nearly fifty years out of every hundred at war with some power or other. it certainly ought to be a conscientious as well political consideration with america, not to dip her hands in the bloody work of europe. our situation affords us a retreat from their cabals, and the present happy union of the states bids fair for extirpating the future use of arms from one quarter of the world; yet such have been the irreligious politics of the present leaders of the quakers, that, for the sake of they scarce know what, they would cut off every hope of such a blessing by tying this continent to britain, like hector to the chariot wheel of achilles, to be dragged through all the miseries of endless european wars. the connection, viewed from this ground, is distressing to every man who has the feelings of humanity. by having britain for our master, we became enemies to the greatest part of europe, and they to us: and the consequence was war inevitable. by being our own masters, independent of any foreign one, we have europe for our friends, and the prospect of an endless peace among ourselves. those who were advocates for the british government over these colonies, were obliged to limit both their arguments and their ideas to the period of an european peace only; the moment britain became plunged in war, every supposed convenience to us vanished, and all we could hope for was not to be ruined. could this be a desirable condition for a young country to be in? had the french pursued their fortune immediately after the defeat of braddock last war, this city and province had then experienced the woful calamities of being a british subject. a scene of the same kind might happen again; for america, considered as a subject to the crown of britain, would ever have been the seat of war, and the bone of contention between the two powers. on the whole, if the future expulsion of arms from one quarter of the world would be a desirable object to a peaceable man; if the freedom of trade to every part of it can engage the attention of a man of business; if the support or fall of millions of currency can affect our interests; if the entire possession of estates, by cutting off the lordly claims of britain over the soil, deserves the regard of landed property; and if the right of making our own laws, uncontrolled by royal or ministerial spies or mandates, be worthy our care as freemen;--then are all men interested in the support of independence; and may he that supports it not, be driven from the blessing, and live unpitied beneath the servile sufferings of scandalous subjection! we have been amused with the tales of ancient wonders; we have read, and wept over the histories of other nations: applauded, censured, or pitied, as their cases affected us. the fortitude and patience of the sufferers--the justness of their cause--the weight of their oppressions and oppressors--the object to be saved or lost--with all the consequences of a defeat or a conquest--have, in the hour of sympathy, bewitched our hearts, and chained it to their fate: but where is the power that ever made war upon petitioners? or where is the war on which a world was staked till now? we may not, perhaps, be wise enough to make all the advantages we ought of our independence; but they are, nevertheless, marked and presented to us with every character of great and good, and worthy the hand of him who sent them. i look through the present trouble to a time of tranquillity, when we shall have it in our power to set an example of peace to all the world. were the quakers really impressed and influenced by the quiet principles they profess to hold, they would, however they might disapprove the means, be the first of all men to approve of independence, because, by separating ourselves from the cities of sodom and gomorrah, it affords an opportunity never given to man before of carrying their favourite principle of peace into general practice, by establishing governments that shall hereafter exist without wars. o! ye fallen, cringing, priest-and-pemberton-ridden people! what more can we say of ye than that a religious quaker is a valuable character, and a political quaker a real jesuit. having thus gone over some of the principal points in support of independence, i must now request the reader to return back with me to the period when it first began to be a public doctrine, and to examine the progress it has made among the various classes of men. the area i mean to begin at, is the breaking out of hostilities, april th, . until this event happened, the continent seemed to view the dispute as a kind of law-suit for a matter of right, litigating between the old country and the new; and she felt the same kind and degree of horror, as if she had seen an oppressive plaintiff, at the head of a band of ruffians, enter the court, while the cause was before it, and put the judge, the jury, the defendant and his counsel, to the sword. perhaps a more heart-felt convulsion never reached a country with the same degree of power and rapidity before, and never may again. pity for the sufferers, mixed with indignation at the violence, and heightened with apprehensions of undergoing the same fate, made the affair of lexington the affair of the continent. every part of it felt the shock, and all vibrated together. a general promotion of sentiment took place: those who had drank deeply into whiggish principles, that is, the right and necessity not only of opposing, but wholly setting aside the power of the crown as soon as it became practically dangerous (for in theory it was always so), stepped into the first stage of independence; while another class of whigs, equally sound in principle, but not so sanguine in enterprise, attached themselves the stronger to the cause, and fell close in with the rear of the former; their partition was a mere point. numbers of the moderate men, whose chief fault, at that time, arose from entertaining a better opinion of britain than she deserved, convinced now of their mistake, gave her up, and publicly declared themselves good whigs. while the tories, seeing it was no longer a laughing matter, either sank into silent obscurity, or contented themselves with coming forth and abusing general gage: not a single advocate appeared to justify the action of that day; it seemed to appear to every one with the same magnitude, struck every one with the same force, and created in every one the same abhorrence. from this period we may date the growth of independence. if the many circumstances which happened at this memorable time, be taken in one view, and compared with each other, they will justify a conclusion which seems not to have been attended to, i mean a fixed design in the king and ministry of driving america into arms, in order that they might be furnished with a pretence for seizing the whole continent, as the immediate property of the crown. a noble plunder for hungry courtiers! it ought to be remembered, that the first petition from the congress was at this time unanswered on the part of the british king. that the motion, called lord north's motion, of the th of february, , arrived in america the latter end of march. this motion was to be laid, by the several governors then in being, before, the assembly of each province; and the first assembly before which it was laid, was the assembly of pennsylvania, in may following. this being a just state of the case, i then ask, why were hostilities commenced between the time of passing the resolve in the house of commons, of the th of february, and the time of the assemblies meeting to deliberate upon it? degrading and famous as that motion was, there is nevertheless reason to believe that the king and his adherents were afraid the colonies would agree to it, and lest they should, took effectual care they should not, by provoking them with hostilities in the interim. they had not the least doubt at that time of conquering america at one blow; and what they expected to get by a conquest being infinitely greater than any thing they could hope to get either by taxation or accommodation, they seemed determined to prevent even the possibility of hearing each other, lest america should disappoint their greedy hopes of the whole, by listening even to their own terms. on the one hand they refused to hear the petition of the continent, and on the other hand took effectual care the continent should not hear them. that the motion of the th february and the orders for commencing hostilities were both concerted by the same person or persons, and not the latter by general gage, as was falsely imagined at first, is evident from an extract of a letter of his to the administration, read among other papers in the house of commons; in which he informs his masters, "that though their idea of his disarming certain counties was a right one, yet it required him to be master of the country, in order to enable him to execute it." this was prior to the commencement of hostilities, and consequently before the motion of the th february could be deliberated on by the several assemblies. perhaps it may be asked, why was the motion passed, if there was at the same time a plan to aggravate the americans not to listen to it? lord north assigned one reason himself, which was a hope of dividing them. this was publicly tempting them to reject it; that if, in case the injury of arms should fail in provoking them sufficiently, the insult of such a declaration might fill it up. but by passing the motion and getting it afterwards rejected in america, it enabled them, in their wicked idea of politics, among other things, to hold up the colonies to foreign powers, with every possible mark of disobedience and rebellion. they had applied to those powers not to supply the continent with arms, ammunition, etc., and it was necessary they should incense them against us, by assigning on their own part some seeming reputable reason why. by dividing, it had a tendency to weaken the states, and likewise to perplex the adherents of america in england. but the principal scheme, and that which has marked their character in every part of their conduct, was a design of precipitating the colonies into a state which they might afterwards deem rebellion, and, under that pretence, put an end to all future complaints, petitions and remonstrances, by seizing the whole at once. they had ravaged one part of the globe, till it could glut them no longer; their prodigality required new plunder, and through the east india article tea they hoped to transfer their rapine from that quarter of the world to this. every designed quarrel had its pretence; and the same barbarian avarice accompanied the plant to america, which ruined the country that produced it. that men never turn rogues without turning fools is a maxim, sooner or later, universally true. the commencement of hostilities, being in the beginning of april, was, of all times the worst chosen: the congress were to meet the tenth of may following, and the distress the continent felt at this unparalleled outrage gave a stability to that body which no other circumstance could have done. it suppressed too all inferior debates, and bound them together by a necessitous affection, without giving them time to differ upon trifles. the suffering likewise softened the whole body of the people into a degree of pliability, which laid the principal foundation-stone of union, order, and government; and which, at any other time, might only have fretted and then faded away unnoticed and unimproved. but providence, who best knows how to time her misfortunes as well as her immediate favors, chose this to be the time, and who dare dispute it? it did not seem the disposition of the people, at this crisis, to heap petition upon petition, while the former remained unanswered. the measure however was carried in congress, and a second petition was sent; of which i shall only remark that it was submissive even to a dangerous fault, because the prayer of it appealed solely to what it called the prerogative of the crown, while the matter in dispute was confessedly constitutional. but even this petition, flattering as it was, was still not so harmonious as the chink of cash, and consequently not sufficiently grateful to the tyrant and his ministry. from every circumstance it is evident, that it was the determination of the british court to have nothing to do with america but to conquer her fully and absolutely. they were certain of success, and the field of battle was the only place of treaty. i am confident there are thousands and tens of thousands in america who wonder now that they should ever have thought otherwise; but the sin of that day was the sin of civility; yet it operated against our present good in the same manner that a civil opinion of the devil would against our future peace. independence was a doctrine scarce and rare, even towards the conclusion of the year ; all our politics had been founded on the hope of expectation of making the matter up--a hope, which, though general on the side of america, had never entered the head or heart of the british court. their hope was conquest and confiscation. good heavens! what volumes of thanks does america owe to britain? what infinite obligation to the tool that fills, with paradoxical vacancy, the throne! nothing but the sharpest essence of villany, compounded with the strongest distillation of folly, could have produced a menstruum that would have effected a separation. the congress in administered an abortive medicine to independence, by prohibiting the importation of goods, and the succeeding congress rendered the dose still more dangerous by continuing it. had independence been a settled system with america, (as britain has advanced,) she ought to have doubled her importation, and prohibited in some degree her exportation. and this single circumstance is sufficient to acquit america before any jury of nations, of having a continental plan of independence in view; a charge which, had it been true, would have been honorable, but is so grossly false, that either the amazing ignorance or the wilful dishonesty of the british court is effectually proved by it. the second petition, like the first, produced no answer; it was scarcely acknowledged to have been received; the british court were too determined in their villainy even to act it artfully, and in their rage for conquest neglected the necessary subtleties for obtaining it. they might have divided, distracted and played a thousand tricks with us, had they been as cunning as they were cruel. this last indignity gave a new spring to independence. those who knew the savage obstinacy of the king, and the jobbing, gambling spirit of the court, predicted the fate of the petition, as soon as it was sent from america; for the men being known, their measures were easily foreseen. as politicians we ought not so much to ground our hopes on the reasonableness of the thing we ask, as on the reasonableness of the person of whom we ask it: who would expect discretion from a fool, candor from a tyrant, or justice from a villain? as every prospect of accommodation seemed now to fail fast, men began to think seriously on the matter; and their reason being thus stripped of the false hope which had long encompassed it, became approachable by fair debate: yet still the bulk of the people hesitated; they startled at the novelty of independence, without once considering that our getting into arms at first was a more extraordinary novelty, and that all other nations had gone through the work of independence before us. they doubted likewise the ability of the continent to support it, without reflecting that it required the same force to obtain an accommodation by arms as an independence. if the one was acquirable, the other was the same; because, to accomplish either, it was necessary that our strength should be too great for britain to subdue; and it was too unreasonable to suppose, that with the power of being masters, we should submit to be servants.* their caution at this time was exceedingly misplaced; for if they were able to defend their property and maintain their rights by arms, they, consequently, were able to defend and support their independence; and in proportion as these men saw the necessity and correctness of the measure, they honestly and openly declared and adopted it, and the part that they had acted since has done them honor and fully established their characters. error in opinion has this peculiar advantage with it, that the foremost point of the contrary ground may at any time be reached by the sudden exertion of a thought; and it frequently happens in sentimental differences, that some striking circumstance, or some forcible reason quickly conceived, will effect in an instant what neither argument nor example could produce in an age. * in this state of political suspense the pamphlet common sense made its appearance, and the success it met with does not become me to mention. dr. franklin, mr. samuel and john adams, were severally spoken of as the supposed author. i had not, at that time, the pleasure either of personally knowing or being known to the two last gentlemen. the favor of dr. franklin's friendship i possessed in england, and my introduction to this part of the world was through his patronage. i happened, when a school-boy, to pick up a pleasing natural history of virginia, and my inclination from that day of seeing the western side of the atlantic never left me. in october, , dr. franklin proposed giving me such materials as were in his hands, towards completing a history of the present transactions, and seemed desirous of having the first volume out the next spring. i had then formed the outlines of common sense, and finished nearly the first part; and as i supposed the doctor's design in getting out a history was to open the new year with a new system, i expected to surprise him with a production on that subject, much earlier than he thought of; and without informing him what i was doing, got it ready for the press as fast as i conveniently could, and sent him the first pamphlet that was printed off. i find it impossible in the small compass i am limited to, to trace out the progress which independence has made on the minds of the different classes of men, and the several reasons by which they were moved. with some, it was a passionate abhorrence against the king of england and his ministry, as a set of savages and brutes; and these men, governed by the agony of a wounded mind, were for trusting every thing to hope and heaven, and bidding defiance at once. with others, it was a growing conviction that the scheme of the british court was to create, ferment and drive on a quarrel, for the sake of confiscated plunder: and men of this class ripened into independence in proportion as the evidence increased. while a third class conceived it was the true interest of america, internally and externally, to be her own master, and gave their support to independence, step by step, as they saw her abilities to maintain it enlarge. with many, it was a compound of all these reasons; while those who were too callous to be reached by either, remained, and still remain tories. the legal necessity of being independent, with several collateral reasons, is pointed out in an elegant masterly manner, in a charge to the grand jury for the district of charleston, by the hon. william henry drayton, chief justice of south carolina, [april , ]. this performance, and the address of the convention of new york, are pieces, in my humble opinion, of the first rank in america. the principal causes why independence has not been so universally supported as it ought, are fear and indolence, and the causes why it has been opposed, are, avarice, down-right villany, and lust of personal power. there is not such a being in america as a tory from conscience; some secret defect or other is interwoven in the character of all those, be they men or women, who can look with patience on the brutality, luxury and debauchery of the british court, and the violations of their army here. a woman's virtue must sit very lightly on her who can even hint a favorable sentiment in their behalf. it is remarkable that the whole race of prostitutes in new york were tories; and the schemes for supporting the tory cause in this city, for which several are now in jail, and one hanged, were concerted and carried on in common bawdy-houses, assisted by those who kept them. the connection between vice and meanness is a fit subject for satire, but when the satire is a fact, it cuts with the irresistible power of a diamond. if a quaker, in defence of his just rights, his property, and the chastity of his house, takes up a musket, he is expelled the meeting; but the present king of england, who seduced and took into keeping a sister of their society, is reverenced and supported by repeated testimonies, while, the friendly noodle from whom she was taken (and who is now in this city) continues a drudge in the service of his rival, as if proud of being cuckolded by a creature called a king. our support and success depend on such a variety of men and circumstances, that every one who does but wish well, is of some use: there are men who have a strange aversion to arms, yet have hearts to risk every shilling in the cause, or in support of those who have better talents for defending it. nature, in the arrangement of mankind, has fitted some for every service in life: were all soldiers, all would starve and go naked, and were none soldiers, all would be slaves. as disaffection to independence is the badge of a tory, so affection to it is the mark of a whig; and the different services of the whigs, down from those who nobly contribute every thing, to those who have nothing to render but their wishes, tend all to the same center, though with different degrees of merit and ability. the larger we make the circle, the more we shall harmonize, and the stronger we shall be. all we want to shut out is disaffection, and, that excluded, we must accept from each other such duties as we are best fitted to bestow. a narrow system of politics, like a narrow system of religion, is calculated only to sour the temper, and be at variance with mankind. all we want to know in america is simply this, who is for independence, and who is not? those who are for it, will support it, and the remainder will undoubtedly see the reasonableness of paying the charges; while those who oppose or seek to betray it, must expect the more rigid fate of the jail and the gibbet. there is a bastard kind of generosity, which being extended to all men, is as fatal to society, on one hand, as the want of true generosity is on the other. a lax manner of administering justice, falsely termed moderation, has a tendency both to dispirit public virtue, and promote the growth of public evils. had the late committee of safety taken cognizance of the last testimony of the quakers and proceeded against such delinquents as were concerned therein, they had, probably, prevented the treasonable plans which have been concerted since. when one villain is suffered to escape, it encourages another to proceed, either from a hope of escaping likewise, or an apprehension that we dare not punish. it has been a matter of general surprise, that no notice was taken of the incendiary publication of the quakers, of the th of november last; a publication evidently intended to promote sedition and treason, and encourage the enemy, who were then within a day's march of this city, to proceed on and possess it. i here present the reader with a memorial which was laid before the board of safety a few days after the testimony appeared. not a member of that board, that i conversed with, but expressed the highest detestation of the perverted principles and conduct of the quaker junto, and a wish that the board would take the matter up; notwithstanding which, it was suffered to pass away unnoticed, to the encouragement of new acts of treason, the general danger of the cause, and the disgrace of the state. to the honorable the council of safety of the state of pennsylvania. at a meeting of a reputable number of the inhabitants of the city of philadelphia, impressed with a proper sense of the justice of the cause which this continent is engaged in, and animated with a generous fervor for supporting the same, it was resolved, that the following be laid before the board of safety: "we profess liberality of sentiment to all men; with this distinction only, that those who do not deserve it would become wise and seek to deserve it. we hold the pure doctrines of universal liberty of conscience, and conceive it our duty to endeavor to secure that sacred right to others, as well as to defend it for ourselves; for we undertake not to judge of the religious rectitude of tenets, but leave the whole matter to him who made us. "we persecute no man, neither will we abet in the persecution of any man for religion's sake; our common relation to others being that of fellow-citizens and fellow-subjects of one single community; and in this line of connection we hold out the right hand of fellowship to all men. but we should conceive ourselves to be unworthy members of the free and independent states of america, were we unconcernedly to see or to suffer any treasonable wound, public or private, directly or indirectly, to be given against the peace and safety of the same. we inquire not into the rank of the offenders, nor into their religious persuasion; we have no business with either, our part being only to find them out and exhibit them to justice. "a printed paper, dated the th of november, and signed 'john pemberton,' whom we suppose to be an inhabitant of this city, has lately been dispersed abroad, a copy of which accompanies this. had the framers and publishers of that paper conceived it their duty to exhort the youth and others of their society, to a patient submission under the present trying visitations, and humbly to wait the event of heaven towards them, they had therein shown a christian temper, and we had been silent; but the anger and political virulence with which their instructions are given, and the abuse with which they stigmatize all ranks of men not thinking like themselves, leave no doubt on our minds from what spirit their publication proceeded: and it is disgraceful to the pure cause of truth, that men can dally with words of the most sacred import, and play them off as mechanically as if religion consisted only in contrivance. we know of no instance in which the quakers have been compelled to bear arms, or to do any thing which might strain their conscience; wherefore their advice, 'to withstand and refuse to submit to the arbitrary instructions and ordinances of men,' appear to us a false alarm, and could only be treasonably calculated to gain favor with our enemies, when they are seemingly on the brink of invading this state, or, what is still worse, to weaken the hands of our defence, that their entrance into this city might be made practicable and easy. "we disclaim all tumult and disorder in the punishment of offenders; and wish to be governed, not by temper but by reason, in the manner of treating them. we are sensible that our cause has suffered by the two following errors: first, by ill-judged lenity to traitorous persons in some cases; and, secondly, by only a passionate treatment of them in others. for the future we disown both, and wish to be steady in our proceedings, and serious in our punishments. "every state in america has, by the repeated voice of its inhabitants, directed and authorized the continental congress to publish a formal declaration of independence of, and separation from, the oppressive king and parliament of great britain; and we look on every man as an enemy, who does not in some line or other, give his assistance towards supporting the same; at the same time we consider the offence to be heightened to a degree of unpardonable guilt, when such persons, under the show of religion, endeavor, either by writing, speaking, or otherwise, to subvert, overturn, or bring reproach upon the independence of this continent as declared by congress. "the publishers of the paper signed 'john pemberton,' have called in a loud manner to their friends and connections, 'to withstand or refuse' obedience to whatever 'instructions or ordinances' may be published, not warranted by (what they call) 'that happy constitution under which they and others long enjoyed tranquillity and peace.' if this be not treason, we know not what may properly be called by that name. "to us it is a matter of surprise and astonishment, that men with the word 'peace, peace,' continually on their lips, should be so fond of living under and supporting a government, and at the same time calling it 'happy,' which is never better pleased than when a war--that has filled india with carnage and famine, africa with slavery, and tampered with indians and negroes to cut the throats of the freemen of america. we conceive it a disgrace to this state, to harbor or wink at such palpable hypocrisy. but as we seek not to hurt the hair of any man's head, when we can make ourselves safe without, we wish such persons to restore peace to themselves and us, by removing themselves to some part of the king of great britain's dominions, as by that means they may live unmolested by us and we by them; for our fixed opinion is, that those who do not deserve a place among us, ought not to have one. "we conclude with requesting the council of safety to take into consideration the paper signed 'john pemberton,' and if it shall appear to them to be of a dangerous tendency, or of a treasonable nature, that they would commit the signer, together with such other persons as they can discover were concerned therein, into custody, until such time as some mode of trial shall ascertain the full degree of their guilt and punishment; in the doing of which, we wish their judges, whoever they may be, to disregard the man, his connections, interest, riches, poverty, or principles of religion, and to attend to the nature of his offence only." the most cavilling sectarian cannot accuse the foregoing with containing the least ingredient of persecution. the free spirit on which the american cause is founded, disdains to mix with such an impurity, and leaves it as rubbish fit only for narrow and suspicious minds to grovel in. suspicion and persecution are weeds of the same dunghill, and flourish together. had the quakers minded their religion and their business, they might have lived through this dispute in enviable ease, and none would have molested them. the common phrase with these people is, 'our principles are peace.' to which may be replied, and your practices are the reverse; for never did the conduct of men oppose their own doctrine more notoriously than the present race of the quakers. they have artfully changed themselves into a different sort of people to what they used to be, and yet have the address to persuade each other that they are not altered; like antiquated virgins, they see not the havoc deformity has made upon them, but pleasantly mistaking wrinkles for dimples, conceive themselves yet lovely and wonder at the stupid world for not admiring them. did no injury arise to the public by this apostacy of the quakers from themselves, the public would have nothing to do with it; but as both the design and consequences are pointed against a cause in which the whole community are interested, it is therefore no longer a subject confined to the cognizance of the meeting only, but comes, as a matter of criminality, before the authority either of the particular state in which it is acted, or of the continent against which it operates. every attempt, now, to support the authority of the king and parliament of great britain over america, is treason against every state; therefore it is impossible that any one can pardon or screen from punishment an offender against all. but to proceed: while the infatuated tories of this and other states were last spring talking of commissioners, accommodation, making the matter up, and the lord knows what stuff and nonsense, their good king and ministry were glutting themselves with the revenge of reducing america to unconditional submission, and solacing each other with the certainty of conquering it in one campaign. the following quotations are from the parliamentary register of the debate's of the house of lords, march th, : "the americans," says lord talbot,* "have been obstinate, undutiful, and ungovernable from the very beginning, from their first early and infant settlements; and i am every day more and more convinced that this people never will be brought back to their duty, and the subordinate relation they stand in to this country, till reduced to unconditional, effectual submission; no concession on our part, no lenity, no endurance, will have any other effect but that of increasing their insolence." * steward of the king's household. "the struggle," says lord townsend,* "is now a struggle for power; the die is cast, and the only point which now remains to be determined is, in what manner the war can be most effectually prosecuted and speedily finished, in order to procure that unconditional submission, which has been so ably stated by the noble earl with the white staff" (meaning lord talbot;) "and i have no reason to doubt that the measures now pursuing will put an end to the war in the course of a single campaign. should it linger longer, we shall then have reason to expect that some foreign power will interfere, and take advantage of our domestic troubles and civil distractions." * formerly general townsend, at quebec, and late lord-lieutenant of ireland. lord littleton. "my sentiments are pretty well known. i shall only observe now that lenient measures have had no other effect than to produce insult after insult; that the more we conceded, the higher america rose in her demands, and the more insolent she has grown. it is for this reason that i am now for the most effective and decisive measures; and am of opinion that no alternative is left us, but to relinquish america for ever, or finally determine to compel her to acknowledge the legislative authority of this country; and it is the principle of an unconditional submission i would be for maintaining." can words be more expressive than these? surely the tories will believe the tory lords! the truth is, they do believe them and know as fully as any whig on the continent knows, that the king and ministry never had the least design of an accommodation with america, but an absolute, unconditional conquest. and the part which the tories were to act, was, by downright lying, to endeavor to put the continent off its guard, and to divide and sow discontent in the minds of such whigs as they might gain an influence over. in short, to keep up a distraction here, that the force sent from england might be able to conquer in "one campaign." they and the ministry were, by a different game, playing into each other's hands. the cry of the tories in england was, "no reconciliation, no accommodation," in order to obtain the greater military force; while those in america were crying nothing but "reconciliation and accommodation," that the force sent might conquer with the less resistance. but this "single campaign" is over, and america not conquered. the whole work is yet to do, and the force much less to do it with. their condition is both despicable and deplorable: out of cash--out of heart, and out of hope. a country furnished with arms and ammunition as america now is, with three millions of inhabitants, and three thousand miles distant from the nearest enemy that can approach her, is able to look and laugh them in the face. howe appears to have two objects in view, either to go up the north river, or come to philadelphia. by going up the north river, he secures a retreat for his army through canada, but the ships must return if they return at all, the same way they went; as our army would be in the rear, the safety of their passage down is a doubtful matter. by such a motion he shuts himself from all supplies from europe, but through canada, and exposes his army and navy to the danger of perishing. the idea of his cutting off the communication between the eastern and southern states, by means of the north river, is merely visionary. he cannot do it by his shipping; because no ship can lay long at anchor in any river within reach of the shore; a single gun would drive a first rate from such a station. this was fully proved last october at forts washington and lee, where one gun only, on each side of the river, obliged two frigates to cut and be towed off in an hour's time. neither can he cut it off by his army; because the several posts they must occupy would divide them almost to nothing, and expose them to be picked up by ours like pebbles on a river's bank; but admitting that he could, where is the injury? because, while his whole force is cantoned out, as sentries over the water, they will be very innocently employed, and the moment they march into the country the communication opens. the most probable object is philadelphia, and the reasons are many. howe's business is to conquer it, and in proportion as he finds himself unable to the task, he will employ his strength to distress women and weak minds, in order to accomplish through their fears what he cannot accomplish by his own force. his coming or attempting to come to philadelphia is a circumstance that proves his weakness: for no general that felt himself able to take the field and attack his antagonist would think of bringing his army into a city in the summer time; and this mere shifting the scene from place to place, without effecting any thing, has feebleness and cowardice on the face of it, and holds him up in a contemptible light to all who can reason justly and firmly. by several informations from new york, it appears that their army in general, both officers and men, have given up the expectation of conquering america; their eye now is fixed upon the spoil. they suppose philadelphia to be rich with stores, and as they think to get more by robbing a town than by attacking an army, their movement towards this city is probable. we are not now contending against an army of soldiers, but against a band of thieves, who had rather plunder than fight, and have no other hope of conquest than by cruelty. they expect to get a mighty booty, and strike another general panic, by making a sudden movement and getting possession of this city; but unless they can march out as well as in, or get the entire command of the river, to remove off their plunder, they may probably be stopped with the stolen goods upon them. they have never yet succeeded wherever they have been opposed, but at fort washington. at charleston their defeat was effectual. at ticonderoga they ran away. in every skirmish at kingsbridge and the white plains they were obliged to retreat, and the instant that our arms were turned upon them in the jerseys, they turned likewise, and those that turned not were taken. the necessity of always fitting our internal police to the circumstances of the times we live in, is something so strikingly obvious, that no sufficient objection can be made against it. the safety of all societies depends upon it; and where this point is not attended to, the consequences will either be a general languor or a tumult. the encouragement and protection of the good subjects of any state, and the suppression and punishment of bad ones, are the principal objects for which all authority is instituted, and the line in which it ought to operate. we have in this city a strange variety of men and characters, and the circumstances of the times require that they should be publicly known; it is not the number of tories that hurt us, so much as the not finding out who they are; men must now take one side or the other, and abide by the consequences: the quakers, trusting to their short-sighted sagacity, have, most unluckily for them, made their declaration in their last testimony, and we ought now to take them at their word. they have involuntarily read themselves out of the continental meeting, and cannot hope to be restored to it again but by payment and penitence. men whose political principles are founded on avarice, are beyond the reach of reason, and the only cure of toryism of this cast is to tax it. a substantial good drawn from a real evil, is of the same benefit to society, as if drawn from a virtue; and where men have not public spirit to render themselves serviceable, it ought to be the study of government to draw the best use possible from their vices. when the governing passion of any man, or set of men, is once known, the method of managing them is easy; for even misers, whom no public virtue can impress, would become generous, could a heavy tax be laid upon covetousness. the tories have endeavored to insure their property with the enemy, by forfeiting their reputation with us; from which may be justly inferred, that their governing passion is avarice. make them as much afraid of losing on one side as on the other, and you stagger their toryism; make them more so, and you reclaim them; for their principle is to worship the power which they are most afraid of. this method of considering men and things together, opens into a large field for speculation, and affords me an opportunity of offering some observations on the state of our currency, so as to make the support of it go hand in hand with the suppression of disaffection and the encouragement of public spirit. the thing which first presents itself in inspecting the state of the currency, is, that we have too much of it, and that there is a necessity of reducing the quantity, in order to increase the value. men are daily growing poor by the very means that they take to get rich; for in the same proportion that the prices of all goods on hand are raised, the value of all money laid by is reduced. a simple case will make this clear; let a man have l. in cash, and as many goods on hand as will to-day sell for l.; but not content with the present market price, he raises them to l. and by so doing obliges others, in their own defence, to raise cent. per cent. likewise; in this case it is evident that his hundred pounds laid by, is reduced fifty pounds in value; whereas, had the market lowered cent. per cent., his goods would have sold but for ten, but his hundred pounds would have risen in value to two hundred; because it would then purchase as many goods again, or support his family as long again as before. and, strange as it may seem, he is one hundred and fifty pounds the poorer for raising his goods, to what he would have been had he lowered them; because the forty pounds which his goods sold for, is, by the general raise of the market cent. per cent., rendered of no more value than the ten pounds would be had the market fallen in the same proportion; and, consequently, the whole difference of gain or loss is on the difference in value of the hundred pounds laid by, viz. from fifty to two hundred. this rage for raising goods is for several reasons much more the fault of the tories than the whigs; and yet the tories (to their shame and confusion ought they to be told of it) are by far the most noisy and discontented. the greatest part of the whigs, by being now either in the army or employed in some public service, are buyers only and not sellers, and as this evil has its origin in trade, it cannot be charged on those who are out of it. but the grievance has now become too general to be remedied by partial methods, and the only effectual cure is to reduce the quantity of money: with half the quantity we should be richer than we are now, because the value of it would be doubled, and consequently our attachment to it increased; for it is not the number of dollars that a man has, but how far they will go, that makes him either rich or poor. these two points being admitted, viz. that the quantity of money is too great, and that the prices of goods can only be effectually reduced by, reducing the quantity of the money, the next point to be considered is, the method how to reduce it. the circumstances of the times, as before observed, require that the public characters of all men should now be fully understood, and the only general method of ascertaining it is by an oath or affirmation, renouncing all allegiance to the king of great britain, and to support the independence of the united states, as declared by congress. let, at the same time, a tax of ten, fifteen, or twenty per cent. per annum, to be collected quarterly, be levied on all property. these alternatives, by being perfectly voluntary, will take in all sorts of people. here is the test; here is the tax. he who takes the former, conscientiously proves his affection to the cause, and binds himself to pay his quota by the best services in his power, and is thereby justly exempt from the latter; and those who choose the latter, pay their quota in money, to be excused from the former, or rather, it is the price paid to us for their supposed, though mistaken, insurance with the enemy. but this is only a part of the advantage which would arise by knowing the different characters of men. the whigs stake everything on the issue of their arms, while the tories, by their disaffection, are sapping and undermining their strength; and, of consequence, the property of the whigs is the more exposed thereby; and whatever injury their estates may sustain by the movements of the enemy, must either be borne by themselves, who have done everything which has yet been done, or by the tories, who have not only done nothing, but have, by their disaffection, invited the enemy on. in the present crisis we ought to know, square by square and house by house, who are in real allegiance with the united independent states, and who are not. let but the line be made clear and distinct, and all men will then know what they are to trust to. it would not only be good policy but strict justice, to raise fifty or one hundred thousand pounds, or more, if it is necessary, out of the estates and property of the king of england's votaries, resident in philadelphia, to be distributed, as a reward to those inhabitants of the city and state, who should turn out and repulse the enemy, should they attempt to march this way; and likewise, to bind the property of all such persons to make good the damages which that of the whigs might sustain. in the undistinguishable mode of conducting a war, we frequently make reprisals at sea, on the vessels of persons in england, who are friends to our cause compared with the resident tories among us. in every former publication of mine, from common sense down to the last crisis, i have generally gone on the charitable supposition, that the tories were rather a mistaken than a criminal people, and have applied argument after argument, with all the candor and temper which i was capable of, in order to set every part of the case clearly and fairly before them, and if possible to reclaim them from ruin to reason. i have done my duty by them and have now done with that doctrine, taking it for granted, that those who yet hold their disaffection are either a set of avaricious miscreants, who would sacrifice the continent to save themselves, or a banditti of hungry traitors, who are hoping for a division of the spoil. to which may be added, a list of crown or proprietary dependants, who, rather than go without a portion of power, would be content to share it with the devil. of such men there is no hope; and their obedience will only be according to the danger set before them, and the power that is exercised over them. a time will shortly arrive, in which, by ascertaining the characters of persons now, we shall be guarded against their mischiefs then; for in proportion as the enemy despair of conquest, they will be trying the arts of seduction and the force of fear by all the mischiefs which they can inflict. but in war we may be certain of these two things, viz. that cruelty in an enemy, and motions made with more than usual parade, are always signs of weakness. he that can conquer, finds his mind too free and pleasant to be brutish; and he that intends to conquer, never makes too much show of his strength. we now know the enemy we have to do with. while drunk with the certainty of victory, they disdained to be civil; and in proportion as disappointment makes them sober, and their apprehensions of an european war alarm them, they will become cringing and artful; honest they cannot be. but our answer to them, in either condition they may be in, is short and full--"as free and independent states we are willing to make peace with you to-morrow, but we neither can hear nor reply in any other character." if britain cannot conquer us, it proves that she is neither able to govern nor protect us, and our particular situation now is such, that any connection with her would be unwisely exchanging a half-defeated enemy for two powerful ones. europe, by every appearance, is now on the eve, nay, on the morning twilight of a war, and any alliance with george the third brings france and spain upon our backs; a separation from him attaches them to our side; therefore, the only road to peace, honor and commerce is independence. written this fourth year of the union, which god preserve. common sense. philadelphia, april , . the crisis iv. (those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom) those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom, must, like men, undergo the fatigues of supporting it. the event of yesterday was one of those kind of alarms which is just sufficient to rouse us to duty, without being of consequence enough to depress our fortitude. it is not a field of a few acres of ground, but a cause, that we are defending, and whether we defeat the enemy in one battle, or by degrees, the consequences will be the same. look back at the events of last winter and the present year, there you will find that the enemy's successes always contributed to reduce them. what they have gained in ground, they paid so dearly for in numbers, that their victories have in the end amounted to defeats. we have always been masters at the last push, and always shall be while we do our duty. howe has been once on the banks of the delaware, and from thence driven back with loss and disgrace: and why not be again driven from the schuylkill? his condition and ours are very different. he has everybody to fight, we have only his one army to cope with, and which wastes away at every engagement: we can not only reinforce, but can redouble our numbers; he is cut off from all supplies, and must sooner or later inevitably fall into our hands. shall a band of ten or twelve thousand robbers, who are this day fifteen hundred or two thousand men less in strength than they were yesterday, conquer america, or subdue even a single state? the thing cannot be, unless we sit down and suffer them to do it. another such a brush, notwithstanding we lost the ground, would, by still reducing the enemy, put them in a condition to be afterwards totally defeated. could our whole army have come up to the attack at one time, the consequences had probably been otherwise; but our having different parts of the brandywine creek to guard, and the uncertainty which road to philadelphia the enemy would attempt to take, naturally afforded them an opportunity of passing with their main body at a place where only a part of ours could be posted; for it must strike every thinking man with conviction, that it requires a much greater force to oppose an enemy in several places, than is sufficient to defeat him in any one place. men who are sincere in defending their freedom, will always feel concern at every circumstance which seems to make against them; it is the natural and honest consequence of all affectionate attachments, and the want of it is a vice. but the dejection lasts only for a moment; they soon rise out of it with additional vigor; the glow of hope, courage and fortitude, will, in a little time, supply the place of every inferior passion, and kindle the whole heart into heroism. there is a mystery in the countenance of some causes, which we have not always present judgment enough to explain. it is distressing to see an enemy advancing into a country, but it is the only place in which we can beat them, and in which we have always beaten them, whenever they made the attempt. the nearer any disease approaches to a crisis, the nearer it is to a cure. danger and deliverance make their advances together, and it is only the last push, in which one or the other takes the lead. there are many men who will do their duty when it is not wanted; but a genuine public spirit always appears most when there is most occasion for it. thank god! our army, though fatigued, is yet entire. the attack made by us yesterday, was under many disadvantages, naturally arising from the uncertainty of knowing which route the enemy would take; and, from that circumstance, the whole of our force could not be brought up together time enough to engage all at once. our strength is yet reserved; and it is evident that howe does not think himself a gainer by the affair, otherwise he would this morning have moved down and attacked general washington. gentlemen of the city and country, it is in your power, by a spirited improvement of the present circumstance, to turn it to a real advantage. howe is now weaker than before, and every shot will contribute to reduce him. you are more immediately interested than any other part of the continent: your all is at stake; it is not so with the general cause; you are devoted by the enemy to plunder and destruction: it is the encouragement which howe, the chief of plunderers, has promised his army. thus circumstanced, you may save yourselves by a manly resistance, but you can have no hope in any other conduct. i never yet knew our brave general, or any part of the army, officers or men, out of heart, and i have seen them in circumstances a thousand times more trying than the present. it is only those that are not in action, that feel languor and heaviness, and the best way to rub it off is to turn out, and make sure work of it. our army must undoubtedly feel fatigue, and want a reinforcement of rest though not of valor. our own interest and happiness call upon us to give them every support in our power, and make the burden of the day, on which the safety of this city depends, as light as possible. remember, gentlemen, that we have forces both to the northward and southward of philadelphia, and if the enemy be but stopped till those can arrive, this city will be saved, and the enemy finally routed. you have too much at stake to hesitate. you ought not to think an hour upon the matter, but to spring to action at once. other states have been invaded, have likewise driven off the invaders. now our time and turn is come, and perhaps the finishing stroke is reserved for us. when we look back on the dangers we have been saved from, and reflect on the success we have been blessed with, it would be sinful either to be idle or to despair. i close this paper with a short address to general howe. you, sir, are only lingering out the period that shall bring with it your defeat. you have yet scarce began upon the war, and the further you enter, the faster will your troubles thicken. what you now enjoy is only a respite from ruin; an invitation to destruction; something that will lead on to our deliverance at your expense. we know the cause which we are engaged in, and though a passionate fondness for it may make us grieve at every injury which threatens it, yet, when the moment of concern is over, the determination to duty returns. we are not moved by the gloomy smile of a worthless king, but by the ardent glow of generous patriotism. we fight not to enslave, but to set a country free, and to make room upon the earth for honest men to live in. in such a case we are sure that we are right; and we leave to you the despairing reflection of being the tool of a miserable tyrant. common sense. philadelphia, sept. , . the crisis. v. to gen. sir william howe. to argue with a man who has renounced the use and authority of reason, and whose philosophy consists in holding humanity in contempt, is like administering medicine to the dead, or endeavoring to convert an atheist by scripture. enjoy, sir, your insensibility of feeling and reflecting. it is the prerogative of animals. and no man will envy you these honors, in which a savage only can be your rival and a bear your master. as the generosity of this country rewarded your brother's services in the last war, with an elegant monument in westminster abbey, it is consistent that she should bestow some mark of distinction upon you. you certainly deserve her notice, and a conspicuous place in the catalogue of extraordinary persons. yet it would be a pity to pass you from the world in state, and consign you to magnificent oblivion among the tombs, without telling the future beholder why. judas is as much known as john, yet history ascribes their fame to very different actions. sir william has undoubtedly merited a monument; but of what kind, or with what inscription, where placed or how embellished, is a question that would puzzle all the heralds of st. james's in the profoundest mood of historical deliberation. we are at no loss, sir, to ascertain your real character, but somewhat perplexed how to perpetuate its identity, and preserve it uninjured from the transformations of time or mistake. a statuary may give a false expression to your bust, or decorate it with some equivocal emblems, by which you may happen to steal into reputation and impose upon the hereafter traditionary world. ill nature or ridicule may conspire, or a variety of accidents combine to lessen, enlarge, or change sir william's fame; and no doubt but he who has taken so much pains to be singular in his conduct, would choose to be just as singular in his exit, his monument and his epitaph. the usual honors of the dead, to be sure, are not sufficiently sublime to escort a character like you to the republic of dust and ashes; for however men may differ in their ideas of grandeur or of government here, the grave is nevertheless a perfect republic. death is not the monarch of the dead, but of the dying. the moment he obtains a conquest he loses a subject, and, like the foolish king you serve, will, in the end, war himself out of all his dominions. as a proper preliminary towards the arrangement of your funeral honors, we readily admit of your new rank of knighthood. the title is perfectly in character, and is your own, more by merit than creation. there are knights of various orders, from the knight of the windmill to the knight of the post. the former is your patron for exploits, and the latter will assist you in settling your accounts. no honorary title could be more happily applied! the ingenuity is sublime! and your royal master has discovered more genius in fitting you therewith, than in generating the most finished figure for a button, or descanting on the properties of a button mould. but how, sir, shall we dispose of you? the invention of a statuary is exhausted, and sir william is yet unprovided with a monument. america is anxious to bestow her funeral favors upon you, and wishes to do it in a manner that shall distinguish you from all the deceased heroes of the last war. the egyptian method of embalming is not known to the present age, and hieroglyphical pageantry hath outlived the science of deciphering it. some other method, therefore, must be thought of to immortalize the new knight of the windmill and post. sir william, thanks to his stars, is not oppressed with very delicate ideas. he has no ambition of being wrapped up and handed about in myrrh, aloes and cassia. less expensive odors will suffice; and it fortunately happens that the simple genius of america has discovered the art of preserving bodies, and embellishing them too, with much greater frugality than the ancients. in balmage, sir, of humble tar, you will be as secure as pharaoh, and in a hieroglyphic of feathers, rival in finery all the mummies of egypt. as you have already made your exit from the moral world, and by numberless acts both of passionate and deliberate injustice engraved an "here lieth" on your deceased honor, it must be mere affectation in you to pretend concern at the humors or opinions of mankind respecting you. what remains of you may expire at any time. the sooner the better. for he who survives his reputation, lives out of despite of himself, like a man listening to his own reproach. thus entombed and ornamented, i leave you to the inspection of the curious, and return to the history of your yet surviving actions. the character of sir william has undergone some extraordinary revolutions. since his arrival in america. it is now fixed and known; and we have nothing to hope from your candor or to fear from your capacity. indolence and inability have too large a share in your composition, ever to suffer you to be anything more than the hero of little villainies and unfinished adventures. that, which to some persons appeared moderation in you at first, was not produced by any real virtue of your own, but by a contrast of passions, dividing and holding you in perpetual irresolution. one vice will frequently expel another, without the least merit in the man; as powers in contrary directions reduce each other to rest. it became you to have supported a dignified solemnity of character; to have shown a superior liberality of soul; to have won respect by an obstinate perseverance in maintaining order, and to have exhibited on all occasions such an unchangeable graciousness of conduct, that while we beheld in you the resolution of an enemy, we might admire in you the sincerity of a man. you came to america under the high sounding titles of commander and commissioner; not only to suppress what you call rebellion, by arms, but to shame it out of countenance by the excellence of your example. instead of which, you have been the patron of low and vulgar frauds, the encourager of indian cruelties; and have imported a cargo of vices blacker than those which you pretend to suppress. mankind are not universally agreed in their determination of right and wrong; but there are certain actions which the consent of all nations and individuals has branded with the unchangeable name of meanness. in the list of human vices we find some of such a refined constitution, they cannot be carried into practice without seducing some virtue to their assistance; but meanness has neither alliance nor apology. it is generated in the dust and sweepings of other vices, and is of such a hateful figure that all the rest conspire to disown it. sir william, the commissioner of george the third, has at last vouchsafed to give it rank and pedigree. he has placed the fugitive at the council board, and dubbed it companion of the order of knighthood. the particular act of meanness which i allude to in this description, is forgery. you, sir, have abetted and patronized the forging and uttering counterfeit continental bills. in the same new york newspapers in which your own proclamation under your master's authority was published, offering, or pretending to offer, pardon and protection to these states, there were repeated advertisements of counterfeit money for sale, and persons who have come officially from you, and under the sanction of your flag, have been taken up in attempting to put them off. a conduct so basely mean in a public character is without precedent or pretence. every nation on earth, whether friends or enemies, will unite in despising you. 'tis an incendiary war upon society, which nothing can excuse or palliate,--an improvement upon beggarly villany--and shows an inbred wretchedness of heart made up between the venomous malignity of a serpent and the spiteful imbecility of an inferior reptile. the laws of any civilized country would condemn you to the gibbet without regard to your rank or titles, because it is an action foreign to the usage and custom of war; and should you fall into our hands, which pray god you may, it will be a doubtful matter whether we are to consider you as a military prisoner or a prisoner for felony. besides, it is exceedingly unwise and impolitic in you, or any other persons in the english service, to promote or even encourage, or wink at the crime of forgery, in any case whatever. because, as the riches of england, as a nation, are chiefly in paper, and the far greater part of trade among individuals is carried on by the same medium, that is, by notes and drafts on one another, they, therefore, of all people in the world, ought to endeavor to keep forgery out of sight, and, if possible, not to revive the idea of it. it is dangerous to make men familiar with a crime which they may afterwards practise to much greater advantage against those who first taught them. several officers in the english army have made their exit at the gallows for forgery on their agents; for we all know, who know any thing of england, that there is not a more necessitous body of men, taking them generally, than what the english officers are. they contrive to make a show at the expense of the tailors, and appear clean at the charge of the washer-women. england, has at this time, nearly two hundred million pounds sterling of public money in paper, for which she has no real property: besides a large circulation of bank notes, bank post bills, and promissory notes and drafts of private bankers, merchants and tradesmen. she has the greatest quantity of paper currency and the least quantity of gold and silver of any nation in europe; the real specie, which is about sixteen millions sterling, serves only as change in large sums, which are always made in paper, or for payment in small ones. thus circumstanced, the nation is put to its wit's end, and obliged to be severe almost to criminality, to prevent the practice and growth of forgery. scarcely a session passes at the old bailey, or an execution at tyburn, but witnesses this truth, yet you, sir, regardless of the policy which her necessity obliges her to adopt, have made your whole army intimate with the crime. and as all armies at the conclusion of a war, are too apt to carry into practice the vices of the campaign, it will probably happen, that england will hereafter abound in forgeries, to which art the practitioners were first initiated under your authority in america. you, sir, have the honor of adding a new vice to the military catalogue; and the reason, perhaps, why the invention was reserved for you, is, because no general before was mean enough even to think of it. that a man whose soul is absorbed in the low traffic of vulgar vice, is incapable of moving in any superior region, is clearly shown in you by the event of every campaign. your military exploits have been without plan, object or decision. can it be possible that you or your employers suppose that the possession of philadelphia will be any ways equal to the expense or expectation of the nation which supports you? what advantages does england derive from any achievements of yours? to her it is perfectly indifferent what place you are in, so long as the business of conquest is unperformed and the charge of maintaining you remains the same. if the principal events of the three campaigns be attended to, the balance will appear against you at the close of each; but the last, in point of importance to us, has exceeded the former two. it is pleasant to look back on dangers past, and equally as pleasant to meditate on present ones when the way out begins to appear. that period is now arrived, and the long doubtful winter of war is changing to the sweeter prospects of victory and joy. at the close of the campaign, in , you were obliged to retreat from boston. in the summer of , you appeared with a numerous fleet and army in the harbor of new york. by what miracle the continent was preserved in that season of danger is a subject of admiration! if instead of wasting your time against long island you had run up the north river, and landed any where above new york, the consequence must have been, that either you would have compelled general washington to fight you with very unequal numbers, or he must have suddenly evacuated the city with the loss of nearly all the stores of his army, or have surrendered for want of provisions; the situation of the place naturally producing one or the other of these events. the preparations made to defend new york were, nevertheless, wise and military; because your forces were then at sea, their numbers uncertain; storms, sickness, or a variety of accidents might have disabled their coming, or so diminished them on their passage, that those which survived would have been incapable of opening the campaign with any prospect of success; in which case the defence would have been sufficient and the place preserved; for cities that have been raised from nothing with an infinitude of labor and expense, are not to be thrown away on the bare probability of their being taken. on these grounds the preparations made to maintain new york were as judicious as the retreat afterwards. while you, in the interim, let slip the very opportunity which seemed to put conquest in your power. through the whole of that campaign you had nearly double the forces which general washington immediately commanded. the principal plan at that time, on our part, was to wear away the season with as little loss as possible, and to raise the army for the next year. long island, new york, forts washington and lee were not defended after your superior force was known under any expectation of their being finally maintained, but as a range of outworks, in the attacking of which your time might be wasted, your numbers reduced, and your vanity amused by possessing them on our retreat. it was intended to have withdrawn the garrison from fort washington after it had answered the former of those purposes, but the fate of that day put a prize into your hands without much honor to yourselves. your progress through the jerseys was accidental; you had it not even in contemplation, or you would not have sent a principal part of your forces to rhode island beforehand. the utmost hope of america in the year , reached no higher than that she might not then be conquered. she had no expectation of defeating you in that campaign. even the most cowardly tory allowed, that, could she withstand the shock of that summer, her independence would be past a doubt. you had then greatly the advantage of her. you were formidable. your military knowledge was supposed to be complete. your fleets and forces arrived without an accident. you had neither experience nor reinforcements to wait for. you had nothing to do but to begin, and your chance lay in the first vigorous onset. america was young and unskilled. she was obliged to trust her defence to time and practice; and has, by mere dint of perseverance, maintained her cause, and brought the enemy to a condition, in which she is now capable of meeting him on any grounds. it is remarkable that in the campaign of you gained no more, notwithstanding your great force, than what was given you by consent of evacuation, except fort washington; while every advantage obtained by us was by fair and hard fighting. the defeat of sir peter parker was complete. the conquest of the hessians at trenton, by the remains of a retreating army, which but a few days before you affected to despise, is an instance of their heroic perseverance very seldom to be met with. and the victory over the british troops at princeton, by a harassed and wearied party, who had been engaged the day before and marched all night without refreshment, is attended with such a scene of circumstances and superiority of generalship, as will ever give it a place in the first rank in the history of great actions. when i look back on the gloomy days of last winter, and see america suspended by a thread, i feel a triumph of joy at the recollection of her delivery, and a reverence for the characters which snatched her from destruction. to doubt now would be a species of infidelity, and to forget the instruments which saved us then would be ingratitude. the close of that campaign left us with the spirit of conquerors. the northern districts were relieved by the retreat of general carleton over the lakes. the army under your command were hunted back and had their bounds prescribed. the continent began to feel its military importance, and the winter passed pleasantly away in preparations for the next campaign. however confident you might be on your first arrival, the result of the year gave you some idea of the difficulty, if not impossibility of conquest. to this reason i ascribe your delay in opening the campaign of . the face of matters, on the close of the former year, gave you no encouragement to pursue a discretionary war as soon as the spring admitted the taking the field; for though conquest, in that case, would have given you a double portion of fame, yet the experiment was too hazardous. the ministry, had you failed, would have shifted the whole blame upon you, charged you with having acted without orders, and condemned at once both your plan and execution. to avoid the misfortunes, which might have involved you and your money accounts in perplexity and suspicion, you prudently waited the arrival of a plan of operations from england, which was that you should proceed for philadelphia by way of the chesapeake, and that burgoyne, after reducing ticonderoga, should take his route by albany, and, if necessary, join you. the splendid laurels of the last campaign have flourished in the north. in that quarter america has surprised the world, and laid the foundation of this year's glory. the conquest of ticonderoga, (if it may be called a conquest) has, like all your other victories, led on to ruin. even the provisions taken in that fortress (which by general burgoyne's return was sufficient in bread and flour for nearly men for ten weeks, and in beef and pork for the same number of men for one month) served only to hasten his overthrow, by enabling him to proceed to saratoga, the place of his destruction. a short review of the operations of the last campaign will show the condition of affairs on both sides. you have taken ticonderoga and marched into philadelphia. these are all the events which the year has produced on your part. a trifling campaign indeed, compared with the expenses of england and the conquest of the continent. on the other side, a considerable part of your northern force has been routed by the new york militia under general herkemer. fort stanwix has bravely survived a compound attack of soldiers and savages, and the besiegers have fled. the battle of bennington has put a thousand prisoners into our hands, with all their arms, stores, artillery and baggage. general burgoyne, in two engagements, has been defeated; himself, his army, and all that were his and theirs are now ours. ticonderoga and independence [forts] are retaken, and not the shadow of an enemy remains in all the northern districts. at this instant we have upwards of eleven thousand prisoners, between sixty and seventy [captured] pieces of brass ordnance, besides small arms, tents, stores, etc. in order to know the real value of those advantages, we must reverse the scene, and suppose general gates and the force he commanded to be at your mercy as prisoners, and general burgoyne, with his army of soldiers and savages, to be already joined to you in pennsylvania. so dismal a picture can scarcely be looked at. it has all the tracings and colorings of horror and despair; and excites the most swelling emotions of gratitude by exhibiting the miseries we are so graciously preserved from. i admire the distribution of laurels around the continent. it is the earnest of future union. south carolina has had her day of sufferings and of fame; and the other southern states have exerted themselves in proportion to the force that invaded or insulted them. towards the close of the campaign, in , these middle states were called upon and did their duty nobly. they were witnesses to the almost expiring flame of human freedom. it was the close struggle of life and death, the line of invisible division; and on which the unabated fortitude of a washington prevailed, and saved the spark that has since blazed in the north with unrivalled lustre. let me ask, sir, what great exploits have you performed? through all the variety of changes and opportunities which the war has produced, i know no one action of yours that can be styled masterly. you have moved in and out, backward and forward, round and round, as if valor consisted in a military jig. the history and figure of your movements would be truly ridiculous could they be justly delineated. they resemble the labors of a puppy pursuing his tail; the end is still at the same distance, and all the turnings round must be done over again. the first appearance of affairs at ticonderoga wore such an unpromising aspect, that it was necessary, in july, to detach a part of the forces to the support of that quarter, which were otherwise destined or intended to act against you; and this, perhaps, has been the means of postponing your downfall to another campaign. the destruction of one army at a time is work enough. we know, sir, what we are about, what we have to do, and how to do it. your progress from the chesapeake, was marked by no capital stroke of policy or heroism. your principal aim was to get general washington between the delaware and schuylkill, and between philadelphia and your army. in that situation, with a river on each of his flanks, which united about five miles below the city, and your army above him, you could have intercepted his reinforcements and supplies, cut off all his communication with the country, and, if necessary, have despatched assistance to open a passage for general burgoyne. this scheme was too visible to succeed: for had general washington suffered you to command the open country above him, i think it a very reasonable conjecture that the conquest of burgoyne would not have taken place, because you could, in that case, have relieved him. it was therefore necessary, while that important victory was in suspense, to trepan you into a situation in which you could only be on the defensive, without the power of affording him assistance. the manoeuvre had its effect, and burgoyne was conquered. there has been something unmilitary and passive in you from the time of your passing the schuylkill and getting possession of philadelphia, to the close of the campaign. you mistook a trap for a conquest, the probability of which had been made known to europe, and the edge of your triumph taken off by our own information long before. having got you into this situation, a scheme for a general attack upon you at germantown was carried into execution on the th of october, and though the success was not equal to the excellence of the plan, yet the attempting it proved the genius of america to be on the rise, and her power approaching to superiority. the obscurity of the morning was your best friend, for a fog is always favorable to a hunted enemy. some weeks after this you likewise planned an attack on general washington while at whitemarsh. you marched out with infinite parade, but on finding him preparing to attack you next morning, you prudently turned about, and retreated to philadelphia with all the precipitation of a man conquered in imagination. immediately after the battle of germantown, the probability of burgoyne's defeat gave a new policy to affairs in pennsylvania, and it was judged most consistent with the general safety of america, to wait the issue of the northern campaign. slow and sure is sound work. the news of that victory arrived in our camp on the th of october, and no sooner did that shout of joy, and the report of the thirteen cannon reach your ears, than you resolved upon a retreat, and the next day, that is, on the th, you withdrew your drooping army into philadelphia. this movement was evidently dictated by fear; and carried with it a positive confession that you dreaded a second attack. it was hiding yourself among women and children, and sleeping away the choicest part of the campaign in expensive inactivity. an army in a city can never be a conquering army. the situation admits only of defence. it is mere shelter: and every military power in europe will conclude you to be eventually defeated. the time when you made this retreat was the very time you ought to have fought a battle, in order to put yourself in condition of recovering in pennsylvania what you had lost in saratoga. and the reason why you did not, must be either prudence or cowardice; the former supposes your inability, and the latter needs no explanation. i draw no conclusions, sir, but such as are naturally deduced from known and visible facts, and such as will always have a being while the facts which produced them remain unaltered. after this retreat a new difficulty arose which exhibited the power of britain in a very contemptible light; which was the attack and defence of mud island. for several weeks did that little unfinished fortress stand out against all the attempts of admiral and general howe. it was the fable of bender realized on the delaware. scheme after scheme, and force upon force were tried and defeated. the garrison, with scarce anything to cover them but their bravery, survived in the midst of mud, shot and shells, and were at last obliged to give it up more to the powers of time and gunpowder than to military superiority of the besiegers. it is my sincere opinion that matters are in much worse condition with you than what is generally known. your master's speech at the opening of parliament, is like a soliloquy on ill luck. it shows him to be coming a little to his reason, for sense of pain is the first symptom of recovery, in profound stupefaction. his condition is deplorable. he is obliged to submit to all the insults of france and spain, without daring to know or resent them; and thankful for the most trivial evasions to the most humble remonstrances. the time was when he could not deign an answer to a petition from america, and the time now is when he dare not give an answer to an affront from france. the capture of burgoyne's army will sink his consequence as much in europe as in america. in his speech he expresses his suspicions at the warlike preparations of france and spain, and as he has only the one army which you command to support his character in the world with, it remains very uncertain when, or in what quarter it will be most wanted, or can be best employed; and this will partly account for the great care you take to keep it from action and attacks, for should burgoyne's fate be yours, which it probably will, england may take her endless farewell not only of all america but of all the west indies. never did a nation invite destruction upon itself with the eagerness and the ignorance with which britain has done. bent upon the ruin of a young and unoffending country, she has drawn the sword that has wounded herself to the heart, and in the agony of her resentment has applied a poison for a cure. her conduct towards america is a compound of rage and lunacy; she aims at the government of it, yet preserves neither dignity nor character in her methods to obtain it. were government a mere manufacture or article of commerce, immaterial by whom it should be made or sold, we might as well employ her as another, but when we consider it as the fountain from whence the general manners and morality of a country take their rise, that the persons entrusted with the execution thereof are by their serious example an authority to support these principles, how abominably absurd is the idea of being hereafter governed by a set of men who have been guilty of forgery, perjury, treachery, theft and every species of villany which the lowest wretches on earth could practise or invent. what greater public curse can befall any country than to be under such authority, and what greater blessing than to be delivered therefrom. the soul of any man of sentiment would rise in brave rebellion against them, and spurn them from the earth. the malignant and venomous tempered general vaughan has amused his savage fancy in burning the whole town of kingston, in york government, and the late governor of that state, mr. tryon, in his letter to general parsons, has endeavored to justify it and declared his wish to burn the houses of every committeeman in the country. such a confession from one who was once intrusted with the powers of civil government, is a reproach to the character. but it is the wish and the declaration of a man whom anguish and disappointment have driven to despair, and who is daily decaying into the grave with constitutional rottenness. there is not in the compass of language a sufficiency of words to express the baseness of your king, his ministry and his army. they have refined upon villany till it wants a name. to the fiercer vices of former ages they have added the dregs and scummings of the most finished rascality, and are so completely sunk in serpentine deceit, that there is not left among them one generous enemy. from such men and such masters, may the gracious hand of heaven preserve america! and though the sufferings she now endures are heavy, and severe, they are like straws in the wind compared to the weight of evils she would feel under the government of your king, and his pensioned parliament. there is something in meanness which excites a species of resentment that never subsides, and something in cruelty which stirs up the heart to the highest agony of human hatred; britain has filled up both these characters till no addition can be made, and has not reputation left with us to obtain credit for the slightest promise. the will of god has parted us, and the deed is registered for eternity. when she shall be a spot scarcely visible among the nations, america shall flourish the favorite of heaven, and the friend of mankind. for the domestic happiness of britain and the peace of the world, i wish she had not a foot of land but what is circumscribed within her own island. extent of dominion has been her ruin, and instead of civilizing others has brutalized herself. her late reduction of india, under clive and his successors, was not so properly a conquest as an extermination of mankind. she is the only power who could practise the prodigal barbarity of tying men to mouths of loaded cannon and blowing them away. it happens that general burgoyne, who made the report of that horrid transaction, in the house of commons, is now a prisoner with us, and though an enemy, i can appeal to him for the truth of it, being confident that he neither can nor will deny it. yet clive received the approbation of the last parliament. when we take a survey of mankind, we cannot help cursing the wretch, who, to the unavoidable misfortunes of nature, shall wilfully add the calamities of war. one would think there were evils enough in the world without studying to increase them, and that life is sufficiently short without shaking the sand that measures it. the histories of alexander, and charles of sweden, are the histories of human devils; a good man cannot think of their actions without abhorrence, nor of their deaths without rejoicing. to see the bounties of heaven destroyed, the beautiful face of nature laid waste, and the choicest works of creation and art tumbled into ruin, would fetch a curse from the soul of piety itself. but in this country the aggravation is heightened by a new combination of affecting circumstances. america was young, and, compared with other countries, was virtuous. none but a herod of uncommon malice would have made war upon infancy and innocence: and none but a people of the most finished fortitude, dared under those circumstances, have resisted the tyranny. the natives, or their ancestors, had fled from the former oppressions of england, and with the industry of bees had changed a wilderness into a habitable world. to britain they were indebted for nothing. the country was the gift of heaven, and god alone is their lord and sovereign. the time, sir, will come when you, in a melancholy hour, shall reckon up your miseries by your murders in america. life, with you, begins to wear a clouded aspect. the vision of pleasurable delusion is wearing away, and changing to the barren wild of age and sorrow. the poor reflection of having served your king will yield you no consolation in your parting moments. he will crumble to the same undistinguished ashes with yourself, and have sins enough of his own to answer for. it is not the farcical benedictions of a bishop, nor the cringing hypocrisy of a court of chaplains, nor the formality of an act of parliament, that can change guilt into innocence, or make the punishment one pang the less. you may, perhaps, be unwilling to be serious, but this destruction of the goods of providence, this havoc of the human race, and this sowing the world with mischief, must be accounted for to him who made and governs it. to us they are only present sufferings, but to him they are deep rebellions. if there is a sin superior to every other, it is that of wilful and offensive war. most other sins are circumscribed within narrow limits, that is, the power of one man cannot give them a very general extension, and many kinds of sins have only a mental existence from which no infection arises; but he who is the author of a war, lets loose the whole contagion of hell, and opens a vein that bleeds a nation to death. we leave it to england and indians to boast of these honors; we feel no thirst for such savage glory; a nobler flame, a purer spirit animates america. she has taken up the sword of virtuous defence; she has bravely put herself between tyranny and freedom, between a curse and a blessing, determined to expel the one and protect the other. it is the object only of war that makes it honorable. and if there was ever a just war since the world began, it is this in which america is now engaged. she invaded no land of yours. she hired no mercenaries to burn your towns, nor indians to massacre their inhabitants. she wanted nothing from you, and was indebted for nothing to you: and thus circumstanced, her defence is honorable and her prosperity is certain. yet it is not on the justice only, but likewise on the importance of this cause that i ground my seeming enthusiastical confidence of our success. the vast extension of america makes her of too much value in the scale of providence, to be cast like a pearl before swine, at the feet of an european island; and of much less consequence would it be that britain were sunk in the sea than that america should miscarry. there has been such a chain of extraordinary events in the discovery of this country at first, in the peopling and planting it afterwards, in the rearing and nursing it to its present state, and in the protection of it through the present war, that no man can doubt, but providence has some nobler end to accomplish than the gratification of the petty elector of hanover, or the ignorant and insignificant king of britain. as the blood of the martyrs has been the seed of the christian church, so the political persecutions of england will and have already enriched america with industry, experience, union, and importance. before the present era she was a mere chaos of uncemented colonies, individually exposed to the ravages of the indians and the invasion of any power that britain should be at war with. she had nothing that she could call her own. her felicity depended upon accident. the convulsions of europe might have thrown her from one conqueror to another, till she had been the slave of all, and ruined by every one; for until she had spirit enough to become her own master, there was no knowing to which master she should belong. that period, thank god, is past, and she is no longer the dependent, disunited colonies of britain, but the independent and united states of america, knowing no master but heaven and herself. you, or your king, may call this "delusion," "rebellion," or what name you please. to us it is perfectly indifferent. the issue will determine the character, and time will give it a name as lasting as his own. you have now, sir, tried the fate of three campaigns, and can fully declare to england, that nothing is to be got on your part, but blows and broken bones, and nothing on hers but waste of trade and credit, and an increase of poverty and taxes. you are now only where you might have been two years ago, without the loss of a single ship, and yet not a step more forward towards the conquest of the continent; because, as i have already hinted, "an army in a city can never be a conquering army." the full amount of your losses, since the beginning of the war, exceeds twenty thousand men, besides millions of treasure, for which you have nothing in exchange. our expenses, though great, are circulated within ourselves. yours is a direct sinking of money, and that from both ends at once; first, in hiring troops out of the nation, and in paying them afterwards, because the money in neither case can return to britain. we are already in possession of the prize, you only in pursuit of it. to us it is a real treasure, to you it would be only an empty triumph. our expenses will repay themselves with tenfold interest, while yours entail upon you everlasting poverty. take a review, sir, of the ground which you have gone over, and let it teach you policy, if it cannot honesty. you stand but on a very tottering foundation. a change of the ministry in england may probably bring your measures into question, and your head to the block. clive, with all his successes, had some difficulty in escaping, and yours being all a war of losses, will afford you less pretensions, and your enemies more grounds for impeachment. go home, sir, and endeavor to save the remains of your ruined country, by a just representation of the madness of her measures. a few moments, well applied, may yet preserve her from political destruction. i am not one of those who wish to see europe in a flame, because i am persuaded that such an event will not shorten the war. the rupture, at present, is confined between the two powers of america and england. england finds that she cannot conquer america, and america has no wish to conquer england. you are fighting for what you can never obtain, and we defending what we never mean to part with. a few words, therefore, settle the bargain. let england mind her own business and we will mind ours. govern yourselves, and we will govern ourselves. you may then trade where you please unmolested by us, and we will trade where we please unmolested by you; and such articles as we can purchase of each other better than elsewhere may be mutually done. if it were possible that you could carry on the war for twenty years you must still come to this point at last, or worse, and the sooner you think of it the better it will be for you. my official situation enables me to know the repeated insults which britain is obliged to put up with from foreign powers, and the wretched shifts that she is driven to, to gloss them over. her reduced strength and exhausted coffers in a three years' war with america, has given a powerful superiority to france and spain. she is not now a match for them. but if neither councils can prevail on her to think, nor sufferings awaken her to reason, she must e'en go on, till the honor of england becomes a proverb of contempt, and europe dub her the land of fools. i am, sir, with every wish for an honorable peace, your friend, enemy, and countryman, common sense. to the inhabitants of america. with all the pleasure with which a man exchanges bad company for good, i take my leave of sir william and return to you. it is now nearly three years since the tyranny of britain received its first repulse by the arms of america. a period which has given birth to a new world, and erected a monument to the folly of the old. i cannot help being sometimes surprised at the complimentary references which i have seen and heard made to ancient histories and transactions. the wisdom, civil governments, and sense of honor of the states of greece and rome, are frequently held up as objects of excellence and imitation. mankind have lived to very little purpose, if, at this period of the world, they must go two or three thousand years back for lessons and examples. we do great injustice to ourselves by placing them in such a superior line. we have no just authority for it, neither can we tell why it is that we should suppose ourselves inferior. could the mist of antiquity be cleared away, and men and things be viewed as they really were, it is more than probable that they would admire us, rather than we them. america has surmounted a greater variety and combination of difficulties, than, i believe, ever fell to the share of any one people, in the same space of time, and has replenished the world with more useful knowledge and sounder maxims of civil government than were ever produced in any age before. had it not been for america, there had been no such thing as freedom left throughout the whole universe. england has lost hers in a long chain of right reasoning from wrong principles, and it is from this country, now, that she must learn the resolution to redress herself, and the wisdom how to accomplish it. the grecians and romans were strongly possessed of the spirit of liberty but not the principle, for at the time that they were determined not to be slaves themselves, they employed their power to enslave the rest of mankind. but this distinguished era is blotted by no one misanthropical vice. in short, if the principle on which the cause is founded, the universal blessings that are to arise from it, the difficulties that accompanied it, the wisdom with which it has been debated, the fortitude by which it has been supported, the strength of the power which we had to oppose, and the condition in which we undertook it, be all taken in one view, we may justly style it the most virtuous and illustrious revolution that ever graced the history of mankind. a good opinion of ourselves is exceedingly necessary in private life, but absolutely necessary in public life, and of the utmost importance in supporting national character. i have no notion of yielding the palm of the united states to any grecians or romans that were ever born. we have equalled the bravest in times of danger, and excelled the wisest in construction of civil governments. from this agreeable eminence let us take a review of present affairs. the spirit of corruption is so inseparably interwoven with british politics, that their ministry suppose all mankind are governed by the same motives. they have no idea of a people submitting even to temporary inconvenience from an attachment to rights and privileges. their plans of business are calculated by the hour and for the hour, and are uniform in nothing but the corruption which gives them birth. they never had, neither have they at this time, any regular plan for the conquest of america by arms. they know not how to go about it, neither have they power to effect it if they did know. the thing is not within the compass of human practicability, for america is too extensive either to be fully conquered or passively defended. but she may be actively defended by defeating or making prisoners of the army that invades her. and this is the only system of defence that can be effectual in a large country. there is something in a war carried on by invasion which makes it differ in circumstances from any other mode of war, because he who conducts it cannot tell whether the ground he gains be for him, or against him, when he first obtains it. in the winter of , general howe marched with an air of victory through the jerseys, the consequence of which was his defeat; and general burgoyne at saratoga experienced the same fate from the same cause. the spaniards, about two years ago, were defeated by the algerines in the same manner, that is, their first triumphs became a trap in which they were totally routed. and whoever will attend to the circumstances and events of a war carried on by invasion, will find, that any invader, in order to be finally conquered must first begin to conquer. i confess myself one of those who believe the loss of philadelphia to be attended with more advantages than injuries. the case stood thus: the enemy imagined philadelphia to be of more importance to us than it really was; for we all know that it had long ceased to be a port: not a cargo of goods had been brought into it for near a twelvemonth, nor any fixed manufactories, nor even ship-building, carried on in it; yet as the enemy believed the conquest of it to be practicable, and to that belief added the absurd idea that the soul of all america was centred there, and would be conquered there, it naturally follows that their possession of it, by not answering the end proposed, must break up the plans they had so foolishly gone upon, and either oblige them to form a new one, for which their present strength is not sufficient, or to give over the attempt. we never had so small an army to fight against, nor so fair an opportunity of final success as now. the death wound is already given. the day is ours if we follow it up. the enemy, by his situation, is within our reach, and by his reduced strength is within our power. the ministers of britain may rage as they please, but our part is to conquer their armies. let them wrangle and welcome, but let, it not draw our attention from the one thing needful. here, in this spot is our own business to be accomplished, our felicity secured. what we have now to do is as clear as light, and the way to do it is as straight as a line. it needs not to be commented upon, yet, in order to be perfectly understood i will put a case that cannot admit of a mistake. had the armies under generals howe and burgoyne been united, and taken post at germantown, and had the northern army under general gates been joined to that under general washington, at whitemarsh, the consequence would have been a general action; and if in that action we had killed and taken the same number of officers and men, that is, between nine and ten thousand, with the same quantity of artillery, arms, stores, etc., as have been taken at the northward, and obliged general howe with the remains of his army, that is, with the same number he now commands, to take shelter in philadelphia, we should certainly have thought ourselves the greatest heroes in the world; and should, as soon as the season permitted, have collected together all the force of the continent and laid siege to the city, for it requires a much greater force to besiege an enemy in a town than to defeat him in the field. the case now is just the same as if it had been produced by the means i have here supposed. between nine and ten thousand have been killed and taken, all their stores are in our possession, and general howe, in consequence of that victory, has thrown himself for shelter into philadelphia. he, or his trifling friend galloway, may form what pretences they please, yet no just reason can be given for their going into winter quarters so early as the th of october, but their apprehensions of a defeat if they continued out, or their conscious inability of keeping the field with safety. i see no advantage which can arise to america by hunting the enemy from state to state. it is a triumph without a prize, and wholly unworthy the attention of a people determined to conquer. neither can any state promise itself security while the enemy remains in a condition to transport themselves from one part of the continent to another. howe, likewise, cannot conquer where we have no army to oppose, therefore any such removals in him are mean and cowardly, and reduces britain to a common pilferer. if he retreats from philadelphia, he will be despised; if he stays, he may be shut up and starved out, and the country, if he advances into it, may become his saratoga. he has his choice of evils and we of opportunities. if he moves early, it is not only a sign but a proof that he expects no reinforcement, and his delay will prove that he either waits for the arrival of a plan to go upon, or force to execute it, or both; in which case our strength will increase more than his, therefore in any case we cannot be wrong if we do but proceed. the particular condition of pennsylvania deserves the attention of all the other states. her military strength must not be estimated by the number of inhabitants. here are men of all nations, characters, professions and interests. here are the firmest whigs, surviving, like sparks in the ocean, unquenched and uncooled in the midst of discouragement and disaffection. here are men losing their all with cheerfulness, and collecting fire and fortitude from the flames of their own estates. here are others skulking in secret, many making a market of the times, and numbers who are changing to whig or tory with the circumstances of every day. it is by a mere dint of fortitude and perseverance that the whigs of this state have been able to maintain so good a countenance, and do even what they have done. we want help, and the sooner it can arrive the more effectual it will be. the invaded state, be it which it may, will always feel an additional burden upon its back, and be hard set to support its civil power with sufficient authority; and this difficulty will rise or fall, in proportion as the other states throw in their assistance to the common cause. the enemy will most probably make many manoeuvres at the opening of this campaign, to amuse and draw off the attention of the several states from the one thing needful. we may expect to hear of alarms and pretended expeditions to this place and that place, to the southward, the eastward, and the northward, all intended to prevent our forming into one formidable body. the less the enemy's strength is, the more subtleties of this kind will they make use of. their existence depends upon it, because the force of america, when collected, is sufficient to swallow their present army up. it is therefore our business to make short work of it, by bending our whole attention to this one principal point, for the instant that the main body under general howe is defeated, all the inferior alarms throughout the continent, like so many shadows, will follow his downfall. the only way to finish a war with the least possible bloodshed, or perhaps without any, is to collect an army, against the power of which the enemy shall have no chance. by not doing this, we prolong the war, and double both the calamities and expenses of it. what a rich and happy country would america be, were she, by a vigorous exertion, to reduce howe as she has reduced burgoyne. her currency would rise to millions beyond its present value. every man would be rich, and every man would have it in his power to be happy. and why not do these things? what is there to hinder? america is her own mistress and can do what she pleases. if we had not at this time a man in the field, we could, nevertheless, raise an army in a few weeks sufficient to overwhelm all the force which general howe at present commands. vigor and determination will do anything and everything. we began the war with this kind of spirit, why not end it with the same? here, gentlemen, is the enemy. here is the army. the interest, the happiness of all america, is centred in this half ruined spot. come and help us. here are laurels, come and share them. here are tories, come and help us to expel them. here are whigs that will make you welcome, and enemies that dread your coming. the worst of all policies is that of doing things by halves. penny-wise and pound-foolish, has been the ruin of thousands. the present spring, if rightly improved, will free us from our troubles, and save us the expense of millions. we have now only one army to cope with. no opportunity can be fairer; no prospect more promising. i shall conclude this paper with a few outlines of a plan, either for filling up the battalions with expedition, or for raising an additional force, for any limited time, on any sudden emergency. that in which every man is interested, is every man's duty to support. and any burden which falls equally on all men, and from which every man is to receive an equal benefit, is consistent with the most perfect ideas of liberty. i would wish to revive something of that virtuous ambition which first called america into the field. then every man was eager to do his part, and perhaps the principal reason why we have in any degree fallen therefrom, is because we did not set a right value by it at first, but left it to blaze out of itself, instead of regulating and preserving it by just proportions of rest and service. suppose any state whose number of effective inhabitants was , , should be required to furnish , men towards the defence of the continent on any sudden emergency. st, let the whole number of effective inhabitants be divided into hundreds; then if each of those hundreds turn out four men, the whole number of , will be had. d, let the name of each hundred men be entered in a book, and let four dollars be collected from each man, with as much more as any of the gentlemen, whose abilities can afford it, shall please to throw in, which gifts likewise shall be entered against the names of the donors. d, let the sums so collected be offered as a present, over and above the bounty of twenty dollars, to any four who may be inclined to propose themselves as volunteers: if more than four offer, the majority of the subscribers present shall determine which; if none offer, then four out of the hundred shall be taken by lot, who shall be entitled to the said sums, and shall either go, or provide others that will, in the space of six days. th, as it will always happen that in the space of ground on which a hundred men shall live, there will be always a number of persons who, by age and infirmity, are incapable of doing personal service, and as such persons are generally possessed of the greatest part of property in any country, their portion of service, therefore, will be to furnish each man with a blanket, which will make a regimental coat, jacket, and breeches, or clothes in lieu thereof, and another for a watch cloak, and two pair of shoes; for however choice people may be of these things matters not in cases of this kind; those who live always in houses can find many ways to keep themselves warm, but it is a shame and a sin to suffer a soldier in the field to want a blanket while there is one in the country. should the clothing not be wanted, the superannuated or infirm persons possessing property, may, in lieu thereof, throw in their money subscriptions towards increasing the bounty; for though age will naturally exempt a person from personal service, it cannot exempt him from his share of the charge, because the men are raised for the defence of property and liberty jointly. there never was a scheme against which objections might not be raised. but this alone is not a sufficient reason for rejection. the only line to judge truly upon is to draw out and admit all the objections which can fairly be made, and place against them all the contrary qualities, conveniences and advantages, then by striking a balance you come at the true character of any scheme, principle or position. the most material advantages of the plan here proposed are, ease, expedition, and cheapness; yet the men so raised get a much larger bounty than is any where at present given; because all the expenses, extravagance, and consequent idleness of recruiting are saved or prevented. the country incurs no new debt nor interest thereon; the whole matter being all settled at once and entirely done with. it is a subscription answering all the purposes of a tax, without either the charge or trouble of collecting. the men are ready for the field with the greatest possible expedition, because it becomes the duty of the inhabitants themselves, in every part of the country, to find their proportion of men instead of leaving it to a recruiting sergeant, who, be he ever so industrious, cannot know always where to apply. i do not propose this as a regular digested plan, neither will the limits of this paper admit of any further remarks upon it. i believe it to be a hint capable of much improvement, and as such submit it to the public. common sense. lancaster, march , . the crisis vi. (to the earl of carlisle and general clinton) to the earl of carlisle, general clinton, and william eden, esq., british commissioners at new york. there is a dignity in the warm passions of a whig, which is never to be found in the cold malice of a tory. in the one nature is only heated--in the other she is poisoned. the instant the former has it in his power to punish, he feels a disposition to forgive; but the canine venom of the latter knows no relief but revenge. this general distinction will, i believe, apply in all cases, and suits as well the meridian of england as america. as i presume your last proclamation will undergo the strictures of other pens, i shall confine my remarks to only a few parts thereof. all that you have said might have been comprised in half the compass. it is tedious and unmeaning, and only a repetition of your former follies, with here and there an offensive aggravation. your cargo of pardons will have no market. it is unfashionable to look at them--even speculation is at an end. they have become a perfect drug, and no way calculated for the climate. in the course of your proclamation you say, "the policy as well as the benevolence of great britain have thus far checked the extremes of war, when they tended to distress a people still considered as their fellow subjects, and to desolate a country shortly to become again a source of mutual advantage." what you mean by "the benevolence of great britain" is to me inconceivable. to put a plain question; do you consider yourselves men or devils? for until this point is settled, no determinate sense can be put upon the expression. you have already equalled and in many cases excelled, the savages of either indies; and if you have yet a cruelty in store you must have imported it, unmixed with every human material, from the original warehouse of hell. to the interposition of providence, and her blessings on our endeavors, and not to british benevolence are we indebted for the short chain that limits your ravages. remember you do not, at this time, command a foot of land on the continent of america. staten island, york island, a small part of long island, and rhode island, circumscribe your power; and even those you hold at the expense of the west indies. to avoid a defeat, or prevent a desertion of your troops, you have taken up your quarters in holes and corners of inaccessible security; and in order to conceal what every one can perceive, you now endeavor to impose your weakness upon us for an act of mercy. if you think to succeed by such shadowy devices, you are but infants in the political world; you have the a, b, c, of stratagem yet to learn, and are wholly ignorant of the people you have to contend with. like men in a state of intoxication, you forget that the rest of the world have eyes, and that the same stupidity which conceals you from yourselves exposes you to their satire and contempt. the paragraph which i have quoted, stands as an introduction to the following: "but when that country [america] professes the unnatural design, not only of estranging herself from us, but of mortgaging herself and her resources to our enemies, the whole contest is changed: and the question is how far great britain may, by every means in her power, destroy or render useless, a connection contrived for her ruin, and the aggrandizement of france. under such circumstances, the laws of self-preservation must direct the conduct of britain, and, if the british colonies are to become an accession to france, will direct her to render that accession of as little avail as possible to her enemy." i consider you in this declaration, like madmen biting in the hour of death. it contains likewise a fraudulent meanness; for, in order to justify a barbarous conclusion, you have advanced a false position. the treaty we have formed with france is open, noble, and generous. it is true policy, founded on sound philosophy, and neither a surrender or mortgage, as you would scandalously insinuate. i have seen every article, and speak from positive knowledge. in france, we have found an affectionate friend and faithful ally; in britain, we have found nothing but tyranny, cruelty, and infidelity. but the happiness is, that the mischief you threaten, is not in your power to execute; and if it were, the punishment would return upon you in a ten-fold degree. the humanity of america has hitherto restrained her from acts of retaliation, and the affection she retains for many individuals in england, who have fed, clothed and comforted her prisoners, has, to the present day, warded off her resentment, and operated as a screen to the whole. but even these considerations must cease, when national objects interfere and oppose them. repeated aggravations will provoke a retort, and policy justify the measure. we mean now to take you seriously up upon your own ground and principle, and as you do, so shall you be done by. you ought to know, gentlemen, that england and scotland, are far more exposed to incendiary desolation than america, in her present state, can possibly be. we occupy a country, with but few towns, and whose riches consist in land and annual produce. the two last can suffer but little, and that only within a very limited compass. in britain it is otherwise. her wealth lies chiefly in cities and large towns, the depositories of manufactures and fleets of merchantmen. there is not a nobleman's country seat but may be laid in ashes by a single person. your own may probably contribute to the proof: in short, there is no evil which cannot be returned when you come to incendiary mischief. the ships in the thames, may certainly be as easily set on fire, as the temporary bridge was a few years ago; yet of that affair no discovery was ever made; and the loss you would sustain by such an event, executed at a proper season, is infinitely greater than any you can inflict. the east india house and the bank, neither are nor can be secure from this sort of destruction, and, as dr. price justly observes, a fire at the latter would bankrupt the nation. it has never been the custom of france and england when at war, to make those havocs on each other, because the ease with which they could retaliate rendered it as impolitic as if each had destroyed his own. but think not, gentlemen, that our distance secures you, or our invention fails us. we can much easier accomplish such a point than any nation in europe. we talk the same language, dress in the same habit, and appear with the same manners as yourselves. we can pass from one part of england to another unsuspected; many of us are as well acquainted with the country as you are, and should you impolitically provoke us, you will most assuredly lament the effects of it. mischiefs of this kind require no army to execute them. the means are obvious, and the opportunities unguardable. i hold up a warning to our senses, if you have any left, and "to the unhappy people likewise, whose affairs are committed to you."* i call not with the rancor of an enemy, but the earnestness of a friend, on the deluded people of england, lest, between your blunders and theirs, they sink beneath the evils contrived for us. * general [sir h.] clinton's letter to congress. "he who lives in a glass house," says a spanish proverb, "should never begin throwing stones." this, gentlemen, is exactly your case, and you must be the most ignorant of mankind, or suppose us so, not to see on which side the balance of accounts will fall. there are many other modes of retaliation, which, for several reasons, i choose not to mention. but be assured of this, that the instant you put your threat into execution, a counter-blow will follow it. if you openly profess yourselves savages, it is high time we should treat you as such, and if nothing but distress can recover you to reason, to punish will become an office of charity. while your fleet lay last winter in the delaware, i offered my service to the pennsylvania navy board then at trenton, as one who would make a party with them, or any four or five gentlemen, on an expedition down the river to set fire to it, and though it was not then accepted, nor the thing personally attempted, it is more than probable that your own folly will provoke a much more ruinous act. say not when mischief is done, that you had not warning, and remember that we do not begin it, but mean to repay it. thus much for your savage and impolitic threat. in another part of your proclamation you say, "but if the honors of a military life are become the object of the americans, let them seek those honors under the banners of their rightful sovereign, and in fighting the battles of the united british empire, against our late mutual and natural enemies." surely! the union of absurdity with madness was never marked in more distinguishable lines than these. your rightful sovereign, as you call him, may do well enough for you, who dare not inquire into the humble capacities of the man; but we, who estimate persons and things by their real worth, cannot suffer our judgments to be so imposed upon; and unless it is your wish to see him exposed, it ought to be your endeavor to keep him out of sight. the less you have to say about him the better. we have done with him, and that ought to be answer enough. you have been often told so. strange! that the answer must be so often repeated. you go a-begging with your king as with a brat, or with some unsaleable commodity you were tired of; and though every body tells you no, no, still you keep hawking him about. but there is one that will have him in a little time, and as we have no inclination to disappoint you of a customer, we bid nothing for him. the impertinent folly of the paragraph that i have just quoted, deserves no other notice than to be laughed at and thrown by, but the principle on which it is founded is detestable. we are invited to submit to a man who has attempted by every cruelty to destroy us, and to join him in making war against france, who is already at war against him for our support. can bedlam, in concert with lucifer, form a more mad and devilish request? were it possible a people could sink into such apostacy they would deserve to be swept from the earth like the inhabitants of sodom and gomorrah. the proposition is an universal affront to the rank which man holds in the creation, and an indignity to him who placed him there. it supposes him made up without a spark of honor, and under no obligation to god or man. what sort of men or christians must you suppose the americans to be, who, after seeing their most humble petitions insultingly rejected; the most grievous laws passed to distress them in every quarter; an undeclared war let loose upon them, and indians and negroes invited to the slaughter; who, after seeing their kinsmen murdered, their fellow citizens starved to death in prisons, and their houses and property destroyed and burned; who, after the most serious appeals to heaven, the most solemn abjuration by oath of all government connected with you, and the most heart-felt pledges and protestations of faith to each other; and who, after soliciting the friendship, and entering into alliances with other nations, should at last break through all these obligations, civil and divine, by complying with your horrid and infernal proposal. ought we ever after to be considered as a part of the human race? or ought we not rather to be blotted from the society of mankind, and become a spectacle of misery to the world? but there is something in corruption, which, like a jaundiced eye, transfers the color of itself to the object it looks upon, and sees every thing stained and impure; for unless you were capable of such conduct yourselves, you would never have supposed such a character in us. the offer fixes your infamy. it exhibits you as a nation without faith; with whom oaths and treaties are considered as trifles, and the breaking them as the breaking of a bubble. regard to decency, or to rank, might have taught you better; or pride inspired you, though virtue could not. there is not left a step in the degradation of character to which you can now descend; you have put your foot on the ground floor, and the key of the dungeon is turned upon you. that the invitation may want nothing of being a complete monster, you have thought proper to finish it with an assertion which has no foundation, either in fact or philosophy; and as mr. ferguson, your secretary, is a man of letters, and has made civil society his study, and published a treatise on that subject, i address this part to him. in the close of the paragraph which i last quoted, france is styled the "natural enemy" of england, and by way of lugging us into some strange idea, she is styled "the late mutual and natural enemy" of both countries. i deny that she ever was the natural enemy of either; and that there does not exist in nature such a principle. the expression is an unmeaning barbarism, and wholly unphilosophical, when applied to beings of the same species, let their station in the creation be what it may. we have a perfect idea of a natural enemy when we think of the devil, because the enmity is perpetual, unalterable and unabateable. it admits, neither of peace, truce, or treaty; consequently the warfare is eternal, and therefore it is natural. but man with man cannot arrange in the same opposition. their quarrels are accidental and equivocally created. they become friends or enemies as the change of temper, or the cast of interest inclines them. the creator of man did not constitute them the natural enemy of each other. he has not made any one order of beings so. even wolves may quarrel, still they herd together. if any two nations are so, then must all nations be so, otherwise it is not nature but custom, and the offence frequently originates with the accuser. england is as truly the natural enemy of france, as france is of england, and perhaps more so. separated from the rest of europe, she has contracted an unsocial habit of manners, and imagines in others the jealousy she creates in herself. never long satisfied with peace, she supposes the discontent universal, and buoyed up with her own importance, conceives herself the only object pointed at. the expression has been often used, and always with a fraudulent design; for when the idea of a natural enemy is conceived, it prevents all other inquiries, and the real cause of the quarrel is hidden in the universality of the conceit. men start at the notion of a natural enemy, and ask no other question. the cry obtains credit like the alarm of a mad dog, and is one of those kind of tricks, which, by operating on the common passions, secures their interest through their folly. but we, sir, are not to be thus imposed upon. we live in a large world, and have extended our ideas beyond the limits and prejudices of an island. we hold out the right hand of friendship to all the universe, and we conceive that there is a sociality in the manners of france, which is much better disposed to peace and negotiation than that of england, and until the latter becomes more civilized, she cannot expect to live long at peace with any power. her common language is vulgar and offensive, and children suck in with their milk the rudiments of insult--"the arm of britain! the mighty arm of britain! britain that shakes the earth to its center and its poles! the scourge of france! the terror of the world! that governs with a nod, and pours down vengeance like a god." this language neither makes a nation great or little; but it shows a savageness of manners, and has a tendency to keep national animosity alive. the entertainments of the stage are calculated to the same end, and almost every public exhibition is tinctured with insult. yet england is always in dread of france,--terrified at the apprehension of an invasion, suspicious of being outwitted in a treaty, and privately cringing though she is publicly offending. let her, therefore, reform her manners and do justice, and she will find the idea of a natural enemy to be only a phantom of her own imagination. little did i think, at this period of the war, to see a proclamation which could promise you no one useful purpose whatever, and tend only to expose you. one would think that you were just awakened from a four years' dream, and knew nothing of what had passed in the interval. is this a time to be offering pardons, or renewing the long forgotten subjects of charters and taxation? is it worth your while, after every force has failed you, to retreat under the shelter of argument and persuasion? or can you think that we, with nearly half your army prisoners, and in alliance with france, are to be begged or threatened into submission by a piece of paper? but as commissioners at a hundred pounds sterling a week each, you conceive yourselves bound to do something, and the genius of ill-fortune told you, that you must write. for my own part, i have not put pen to paper these several months. convinced of our superiority by the issue of every campaign, i was inclined to hope, that that which all the rest of the world now see, would become visible to you, and therefore felt unwilling to ruffle your temper by fretting you with repetitions and discoveries. there have been intervals of hesitation in your conduct, from which it seemed a pity to disturb you, and a charity to leave you to yourselves. you have often stopped, as if you intended to think, but your thoughts have ever been too early or too late. there was a time when britain disdained to answer, or even hear a petition from america. that time is past and she in her turn is petitioning our acceptance. we now stand on higher ground, and offer her peace; and the time will come when she, perhaps in vain, will ask it from us. the latter case is as probable as the former ever was. she cannot refuse to acknowledge our independence with greater obstinacy than she before refused to repeal her laws; and if america alone could bring her to the one, united with france she will reduce her to the other. there is something in obstinacy which differs from every other passion; whenever it fails it never recovers, but either breaks like iron, or crumbles sulkily away like a fractured arch. most other passions have their periods of fatigue and rest; their suffering and their cure; but obstinacy has no resource, and the first wound is mortal. you have already begun to give it up, and you will, from the natural construction of the vice, find yourselves both obliged and inclined to do so. if you look back you see nothing but loss and disgrace. if you look forward the same scene continues, and the close is an impenetrable gloom. you may plan and execute little mischiefs, but are they worth the expense they cost you, or will such partial evils have any effect on the general cause? your expedition to egg harbor, will be felt at a distance like an attack upon a hen-roost, and expose you in europe, with a sort of childish frenzy. is it worth while to keep an army to protect you in writing proclamations, or to get once a year into winter quarters? possessing yourselves of towns is not conquest, but convenience, and in which you will one day or other be trepanned. your retreat from philadelphia, was only a timely escape, and your next expedition may be less fortunate. it would puzzle all the politicians in the universe to conceive what you stay for, or why you should have stayed so long. you are prosecuting a war in which you confess you have neither object nor hope, and that conquest, could it be effected, would not repay the charges: in the mean while the rest of your affairs are running to ruin, and a european war kindling against you. in such a situation, there is neither doubt nor difficulty; the first rudiments of reason will determine the choice, for if peace can be procured with more advantages than even a conquest can be obtained, he must be an idiot indeed that hesitates. but you are probably buoyed up by a set of wretched mortals, who, having deceived themselves, are cringing, with the duplicity of a spaniel, for a little temporary bread. those men will tell you just what you please. it is their interest to amuse, in order to lengthen out their protection. they study to keep you amongst them for that very purpose; and in proportion as you disregard their advice, and grow callous to their complaints, they will stretch into improbability, and season their flattery the higher. characters like these are to be found in every country, and every country will despise them. common sense. philadelphia, oct. , . the crisis vii. to the people of england. there are stages in the business of serious life in which to amuse is cruel, but to deceive is to destroy; and it is of little consequence, in the conclusion, whether men deceive themselves, or submit, by a kind of mutual consent, to the impositions of each other. that england has long been under the influence of delusion or mistake, needs no other proof than the unexpected and wretched situation that she is now involved in: and so powerful has been the influence, that no provision was ever made or thought of against the misfortune, because the possibility of its happening was never conceived. the general and successful resistance of america, the conquest of burgoyne, and a war in france, were treated in parliament as the dreams of a discontented opposition, or a distempered imagination. they were beheld as objects unworthy of a serious thought, and the bare intimation of them afforded the ministry a triumph of laughter. short triumph indeed! for everything which has been predicted has happened, and all that was promised has failed. a long series of politics so remarkably distinguished by a succession of misfortunes, without one alleviating turn, must certainly have something in it systematically wrong. it is sufficient to awaken the most credulous into suspicion, and the most obstinate into thought. either the means in your power are insufficient, or the measures ill planned; either the execution has been bad, or the thing attempted impracticable; or, to speak more emphatically, either you are not able or heaven is not willing. for, why is it that you have not conquered us? who, or what has prevented you? you have had every opportunity that you could desire, and succeeded to your utmost wish in every preparatory means. your fleets and armies have arrived in america without an accident. no uncommon fortune has intervened. no foreign nation has interfered until the time which you had allotted for victory was passed. the opposition, either in or out of parliament, neither disconcerted your measures, retarded or diminished your force. they only foretold your fate. every ministerial scheme was carried with as high a hand as if the whole nation had been unanimous. every thing wanted was asked for, and every thing asked for was granted. a greater force was not within the compass of your abilities to send, and the time you sent it was of all others the most favorable. you were then at rest with the whole world beside. you had the range of every court in europe uncontradicted by us. you amused us with a tale of commissioners of peace, and under that disguise collected a numerous army and came almost unexpectedly upon us. the force was much greater than we looked for; and that which we had to oppose it with, was unequal in numbers, badly armed, and poorly disciplined; beside which, it was embodied only for a short time, and expired within a few months after your arrival. we had governments to form; measures to concert; an army to train, and every necessary article to import or to create. our non-importation scheme had exhausted our stores, and your command by sea intercepted our supplies. we were a people unknown, and unconnected with the political world, and strangers to the disposition of foreign powers. could you possibly wish for a more favorable conjunction of circumstances? yet all these have happened and passed away, and, as it were, left you with a laugh. there are likewise, events of such an original nativity as can never happen again, unless a new world should arise from the ocean. if any thing can be a lesson to presumption, surely the circumstances of this war will have their effect. had britain been defeated by any european power, her pride would have drawn consolation from the importance of her conquerors; but in the present case, she is excelled by those that she affected to despise, and her own opinions retorting upon herself, become an aggravation of her disgrace. misfortune and experience are lost upon mankind, when they produce neither reflection nor reformation. evils, like poisons, have their uses, and there are diseases which no other remedy can reach. it has been the crime and folly of england to suppose herself invincible, and that, without acknowledging or perceiving that a full third of her strength was drawn from the country she is now at war with. the arm of britain has been spoken of as the arm of the almighty, and she has lived of late as if she thought the whole world created for her diversion. her politics, instead of civilizing, has tended to brutalize mankind, and under the vain, unmeaning title of "defender of the faith," she has made war like an indian against the religion of humanity. her cruelties in the east indies will never be forgotten, and it is somewhat remarkable that the produce of that ruined country, transported to america, should there kindle up a war to punish the destroyer. the chain is continued, though with a mysterious kind of uniformity both in the crime and the punishment. the latter runs parallel with the former, and time and fate will give it a perfect illustration. when information is withheld, ignorance becomes a reasonable excuse; and one would charitably hope that the people of england do not encourage cruelty from choice but from mistake. their recluse situation, surrounded by the sea, preserves them from the calamities of war, and keeps them in the dark as to the conduct of their own armies. they see not, therefore they feel not. they tell the tale that is told them and believe it, and accustomed to no other news than their own, they receive it, stripped of its horrors and prepared for the palate of the nation, through the channel of the london gazette. they are made to believe that their generals and armies differ from those of other nations, and have nothing of rudeness or barbarity in them. they suppose them what they wish them to be. they feel a disgrace in thinking otherwise, and naturally encourage the belief from a partiality to themselves. there was a time when i felt the same prejudices, and reasoned from the same errors; but experience, sad and painful experience, has taught me better. what the conduct of former armies was, i know not, but what the conduct of the present is, i well know. it is low, cruel, indolent and profligate; and had the people of america no other cause for separation than what the army has occasioned, that alone is cause sufficient. the field of politics in england is far more extensive than that of news. men have a right to reason for themselves, and though they cannot contradict the intelligence in the london gazette, they may frame upon it what sentiments they please. but the misfortune is, that a general ignorance has prevailed over the whole nation respecting america. the ministry and the minority have both been wrong. the former was always so, the latter only lately so. politics, to be executively right, must have a unity of means and time, and a defect in either overthrows the whole. the ministry rejected the plans of the minority while they were practicable, and joined in them when they became impracticable. from wrong measures they got into wrong time, and have now completed the circle of absurdity by closing it upon themselves. i happened to come to america a few months before the breaking out of hostilities. i found the disposition of the people such, that they might have been led by a thread and governed by a reed. their suspicion was quick and penetrating, but their attachment to britain was obstinate, and it was at that time a kind of treason to speak against it. they disliked the ministry, but they esteemed the nation. their idea of grievance operated without resentment, and their single object was reconciliation. bad as i believed the ministry to be, i never conceived them capable of a measure so rash and wicked as the commencing of hostilities; much less did i imagine the nation would encourage it. i viewed the dispute as a kind of law-suit, in which i supposed the parties would find a way either to decide or settle it. i had no thoughts of independence or of arms. the world could not then have persuaded me that i should be either a soldier or an author. if i had any talents for either, they were buried in me, and might ever have continued so, had not the necessity of the times dragged and driven them into action. i had formed my plan of life, and conceiving myself happy, wished every body else so. but when the country, into which i had just set my foot, was set on fire about my ears, it was time to stir. it was time for every man to stir. those who had been long settled had something to defend; those who had just come had something to pursue; and the call and the concern was equal and universal. for in a country where all men were once adventurers, the difference of a few years in their arrival could make none in their right. the breaking out of hostilities opened a new suspicion in the politics of america, which, though at that time very rare, has since been proved to be very right. what i allude to is, "a secret and fixed determination in the british cabinet to annex america to the crown of england as a conquered country." if this be taken as the object, then the whole line of conduct pursued by the ministry, though rash in its origin and ruinous in its consequences, is nevertheless uniform and consistent in its parts. it applies to every case and resolves every difficulty. but if taxation, or any thing else, be taken in its room, there is no proportion between the object and the charge. nothing but the whole soil and property of the country can be placed as a possible equivalent against the millions which the ministry expended. no taxes raised in america could possibly repay it. a revenue of two millions sterling a year would not discharge the sum and interest accumulated thereon, in twenty years. reconciliation never appears to have been the wish or the object of the administration; they looked on conquest as certain and infallible, and, under that persuasion, sought to drive the americans into what they might style a general rebellion, and then, crushing them with arms in their hands, reap the rich harvest of a general confiscation, and silence them for ever. the dependents at court were too numerous to be provided for in england. the market for plunder in the east indies was over; and the profligacy of government required that a new mine should be opened, and that mine could be no other than america, conquered and forfeited. they had no where else to go. every other channel was drained; and extravagance, with the thirst of a drunkard, was gaping for supplies. if the ministry deny this to have been their plan, it becomes them to explain what was their plan. for either they have abused us in coveting property they never labored for, or they have abused you in expending an amazing sum upon an incompetent object. taxation, as i mentioned before, could never be worth the charge of obtaining it by arms; and any kind of formal obedience which america could have made, would have weighed with the lightness of a laugh against such a load of expense. it is therefore most probable that the ministry will at last justify their policy by their dishonesty, and openly declare, that their original design was conquest: and, in this case, it well becomes the people of england to consider how far the nation would have been benefited by the success. in a general view, there are few conquests that repay the charge of making them, and mankind are pretty well convinced that it can never be worth their while to go to war for profit's sake. if they are made war upon, their country invaded, or their existence at stake, it is their duty to defend and preserve themselves, but in every other light, and from every other cause, is war inglorious and detestable. but to return to the case in question-- when conquests are made of foreign countries, it is supposed that the commerce and dominion of the country which made them are extended. but this could neither be the object nor the consequence of the present war. you enjoyed the whole commerce before. it could receive no possible addition by a conquest, but on the contrary, must diminish as the inhabitants were reduced in numbers and wealth. you had the same dominion over the country which you used to have, and had no complaint to make against her for breach of any part of the contract between you or her, or contending against any established custom, commercial, political or territorial. the country and commerce were both your own when you began to conquer, in the same manner and form as they had been your own a hundred years before. nations have sometimes been induced to make conquests for the sake of reducing the power of their enemies, or bringing it to a balance with their own. but this could be no part of your plan. no foreign authority was claimed here, neither was any such authority suspected by you, or acknowledged or imagined by us. what then, in the name of heaven, could you go to war for? or what chance could you possibly have in the event, but either to hold the same country which you held before, and that in a much worse condition, or to lose, with an amazing expense, what you might have retained without a farthing of charges? war never can be the interest of a trading nation, any more than quarrelling can be profitable to a man in business. but to make war with those who trade with us, is like setting a bull-dog upon a customer at the shop-door. the least degree of common sense shows the madness of the latter, and it will apply with the same force of conviction to the former. piratical nations, having neither commerce or commodities of their own to lose, may make war upon all the world, and lucratively find their account in it; but it is quite otherwise with britain: for, besides the stoppage of trade in time of war, she exposes more of her own property to be lost, than she has the chance of taking from others. some ministerial gentlemen in parliament have mentioned the greatness of her trade as an apology for the greatness of her loss. this is miserable politics indeed! because it ought to have been given as a reason for her not engaging in a war at first. the coast of america commands the west india trade almost as effectually as the coast of africa does that of the straits; and england can no more carry on the former without the consent of america, than she can the latter without a mediterranean pass. in whatever light the war with america is considered upon commercial principles, it is evidently the interest of the people of england not to support it; and why it has been supported so long, against the clearest demonstrations of truth and national advantage, is, to me, and must be to all the reasonable world, a matter of astonishment. perhaps it may be said that i live in america, and write this from interest. to this i reply, that my principle is universal. my attachment is to all the world, and not to any particular part, and if what i advance is right, no matter where or who it comes from. we have given the proclamation of your commissioners a currency in our newspapers, and i have no doubt you will give this a place in yours. to oblige and be obliged is fair. before i dismiss this part of my address, i shall mention one more circumstance in which i think the people of england have been equally mistaken: and then proceed to other matters. there is such an idea existing in the world, as that of national honor, and this, falsely understood, is oftentimes the cause of war. in a christian and philosophical sense, mankind seem to have stood still at individual civilization, and to retain as nations all the original rudeness of nature. peace by treaty is only a cessation of violence for a reformation of sentiment. it is a substitute for a principle that is wanting and ever will be wanting till the idea of national honor be rightly understood. as individuals we profess ourselves christians, but as nations we are heathens, romans, and what not. i remember the late admiral saunders declaring in the house of commons, and that in the time of peace, "that the city of madrid laid in ashes was not a sufficient atonement for the spaniards taking off the rudder of an english sloop of war." i do not ask whether this is christianity or morality, i ask whether it is decency? whether it is proper language for a nation to use? in private life we call it by the plain name of bullying, and the elevation of rank cannot alter its character. it is, i think, exceedingly easy to define what ought to be understood by national honor; for that which is the best character for an individual is the best character for a nation; and wherever the latter exceeds or falls beneath the former, there is a departure from the line of true greatness. i have thrown out this observation with a design of applying it to great britain. her ideas of national honor seem devoid of that benevolence of heart, that universal expansion of philanthropy, and that triumph over the rage of vulgar prejudice, without which man is inferior to himself, and a companion of common animals. to know who she shall regard or dislike, she asks what country they are of, what religion they profess, and what property they enjoy. her idea of national honor seems to consist in national insult, and that to be a great people, is to be neither a christian, a philosopher, or a gentleman, but to threaten with the rudeness of a bear, and to devour with the ferocity of a lion. this perhaps may sound harsh and uncourtly, but it is too true, and the more is the pity. i mention this only as her general character. but towards america she has observed no character at all; and destroyed by her conduct what she assumed in her title. she set out with the title of parent, or mother country. the association of ideas which naturally accompany this expression, are filled with everything that is fond, tender and forbearing. they have an energy peculiar to themselves, and, overlooking the accidental attachment of common affections, apply with infinite softness to the first feelings of the heart. it is a political term which every mother can feel the force of, and every child can judge of. it needs no painting of mine to set it off, for nature only can do it justice. but has any part of your conduct to america corresponded with the title you set up? if in your general national character you are unpolished and severe, in this you are inconsistent and unnatural, and you must have exceeding false notions of national honor to suppose that the world can admire a want of humanity or that national honor depends on the violence of resentment, the inflexibility of temper, or the vengeance of execution. i would willingly convince you, and that with as much temper as the times will suffer me to do, that as you opposed your own interest by quarrelling with us, so likewise your national honor, rightly conceived and understood, was no ways called upon to enter into a war with america; had you studied true greatness of heart, the first and fairest ornament of mankind, you would have acted directly contrary to all that you have done, and the world would have ascribed it to a generous cause. besides which, you had (though with the assistance of this country) secured a powerful name by the last war. you were known and dreaded abroad; and it would have been wise in you to have suffered the world to have slept undisturbed under that idea. it was to you a force existing without expense. it produced to you all the advantages of real power; and you were stronger through the universality of that charm, than any future fleets and armies may probably make you. your greatness was so secured and interwoven with your silence that you ought never to have awakened mankind, and had nothing to do but to be quiet. had you been true politicians you would have seen all this, and continued to draw from the magic of a name, the force and authority of a nation. unwise as you were in breaking the charm, you were still more unwise in the manner of doing it. samson only told the secret, but you have performed the operation; you have shaven your own head, and wantonly thrown away the locks. america was the hair from which the charm was drawn that infatuated the world. you ought to have quarrelled with no power; but with her upon no account. you had nothing to fear from any condescension you might make. you might have humored her, even if there had been no justice in her claims, without any risk to your reputation; for europe, fascinated by your fame, would have ascribed it to your benevolence, and america, intoxicated by the grant, would have slumbered in her fetters. but this method of studying the progress of the passions, in order to ascertain the probable conduct of mankind, is a philosophy in politics which those who preside at st. james's have no conception of. they know no other influence than corruption and reckon all their probabilities from precedent. a new case is to them a new world, and while they are seeking for a parallel they get lost. the talents of lord mansfield can be estimated at best no higher than those of a sophist. he understands the subtleties but not the elegance of nature; and by continually viewing mankind through the cold medium of the law, never thinks of penetrating into the warmer region of the mind. as for lord north, it is his happiness to have in him more philosophy than sentiment, for he bears flogging like a top, and sleeps the better for it. his punishment becomes his support, for while he suffers the lash for his sins, he keeps himself up by twirling about. in politics, he is a good arithmetician, and in every thing else nothing at all. there is one circumstance which comes so much within lord north's province as a financier, that i am surprised it should escape him, which is, the different abilities of the two countries in supporting the expense; for, strange as it may seem, england is not a match for america in this particular. by a curious kind of revolution in accounts, the people of england seem to mistake their poverty for their riches; that is, they reckon their national debt as a part of their national wealth. they make the same kind of error which a man would do, who after mortgaging his estate, should add the money borrowed, to the full value of the estate, in order to count up his worth, and in this case he would conceive that he got rich by running into debt. just thus it is with england. the government owed at the beginning of this war one hundred and thirty-five millions sterling, and though the individuals to whom it was due had a right to reckon their shares as so much private property, yet to the nation collectively it was so much poverty. there are as effectual limits to public debts as to private ones, for when once the money borrowed is so great as to require the whole yearly revenue to discharge the interest thereon, there is an end to further borrowing; in the same manner as when the interest of a man's debts amounts to the yearly income of his estate, there is an end to his credit. this is nearly the case with england, the interest of her present debt being at least equal to one half of her yearly revenue, so that out of ten millions annually collected by taxes, she has but five that she can call her own. the very reverse of this was the case with america; she began the war without any debt upon her, and in order to carry it on, she neither raised money by taxes, nor borrowed it upon interest, but created it; and her situation at this time continues so much the reverse of yours that taxing would make her rich, whereas it would make you poor. when we shall have sunk the sum which we have created, we shall then be out of debt, be just as rich as when we began, and all the while we are doing it shall feel no difference, because the value will rise as the quantity decreases. there was not a country in the world so capable of bearing the expense of a war as america; not only because she was not in debt when she began, but because the country is young and capable of infinite improvement, and has an almost boundless tract of new lands in store; whereas england has got to her extent of age and growth, and has not unoccupied land or property in reserve. the one is like a young heir coming to a large improvable estate; the other like an old man whose chances are over, and his estate mortgaged for half its worth. in the second number of the crisis, which i find has been republished in england, i endeavored to set forth the impracticability of conquering america. i stated every case, that i conceived could possibly happen, and ventured to predict its consequences. as my conclusions were drawn not artfully, but naturally, they have all proved to be true. i was upon the spot; knew the politics of america, her strength and resources, and by a train of services, the best in my power to render, was honored with the friendship of the congress, the army and the people. i considered the cause a just one. i know and feel it a just one, and under that confidence never made my own profit or loss an object. my endeavor was to have the matter well understood on both sides, and i conceived myself tendering a general service, by setting forth to the one the impossibility of being conquered, and to the other the impossibility of conquering. most of the arguments made use of by the ministry for supporting the war, are the very arguments that ought to have been used against supporting it; and the plans, by which they thought to conquer, are the very plans in which they were sure to be defeated. they have taken every thing up at the wrong end. their ignorance is astonishing, and were you in my situation you would see it. they may, perhaps, have your confidence, but i am persuaded that they would make very indifferent members of congress. i know what england is, and what america is, and from the compound of knowledge, am better enabled to judge of the issue than what the king or any of his ministers can be. in this number i have endeavored to show the ill policy and disadvantages of the war. i believe many of my remarks are new. those which are not so, i have studied to improve and place in a manner that may be clear and striking. your failure is, i am persuaded, as certain as fate. america is above your reach. she is at least your equal in the world, and her independence neither rests upon your consent, nor can it be prevented by your arms. in short, you spend your substance in vain, and impoverish yourselves without a hope. but suppose you had conquered america, what advantages, collectively or individually, as merchants, manufacturers, or conquerors, could you have looked for? this is an object you seemed never to have attended to. listening for the sound of victory, and led away by the frenzy of arms, you neglected to reckon either the cost or the consequences. you must all pay towards the expense; the poorest among you must bear his share, and it is both your right and your duty to weigh seriously the matter. had america been conquered, she might have been parcelled out in grants to the favorites at court, but no share of it would have fallen to you. your taxes would not have been lessened, because she would have been in no condition to have paid any towards your relief. we are rich by contrivance of our own, which would have ceased as soon as you became masters. our paper money will be of no use in england, and silver and gold we have none. in the last war you made many conquests, but were any of your taxes lessened thereby? on the contrary, were you not taxed to pay for the charge of making them, and has not the same been the case in every war? to the parliament i wish to address myself in a more particular manner. they appear to have supposed themselves partners in the chase, and to have hunted with the lion from an expectation of a right in the booty; but in this it is most probable they would, as legislators, have been disappointed. the case is quite a new one, and many unforeseen difficulties would have arisen thereon. the parliament claimed a legislative right over america, and the war originated from that pretence. but the army is supposed to belong to the crown, and if america had been conquered through their means, the claim of the legislature would have been suffocated in the conquest. ceded, or conquered, countries are supposed to be out of the authority of parliament. taxation is exercised over them by prerogative and not by law. it was attempted to be done in the grenadas a few years ago, and the only reason why it was not done was because the crown had made a prior relinquishment of its claim. therefore, parliament have been all this while supporting measures for the establishment of their authority, in the issue of which, they would have been triumphed over by the prerogative. this might have opened a new and interesting opposition between the parliament and the crown. the crown would have said that it conquered for itself, and that to conquer for parliament was an unknown case. the parliament might have replied, that america not being a foreign country, but a country in rebellion, could not be said to be conquered, but reduced; and thus continued their claim by disowning the term. the crown might have rejoined, that however america might be considered at first, she became foreign at last by a declaration of independence, and a treaty with france; and that her case being, by that treaty, put within the law of nations, was out of the law of parliament, who might have maintained, that as their claim over america had never been surrendered, so neither could it be taken away. the crown might have insisted, that though the claim of parliament could not be taken away, yet, being an inferior, it might be superseded; and that, whether the claim was withdrawn from the object, or the object taken from the claim, the same separation ensued; and that america being subdued after a treaty with france, was to all intents and purposes a regal conquest, and of course the sole property of the king. the parliament, as the legal delegates of the people, might have contended against the term "inferior," and rested the case upon the antiquity of power, and this would have brought on a set of very interesting and rational questions. st, what is the original fountain of power and honor in any country? d, whether the prerogative does not belong to the people? d, whether there is any such thing as the english constitution? th, of what use is the crown to the people? th, whether he who invented a crown was not an enemy to mankind? th, whether it is not a shame for a man to spend a million a year and do no good for it, and whether the money might not be better applied? th, whether such a man is not better dead than alive? th, whether a congress, constituted like that of america, is not the most happy and consistent form of government in the world?--with a number of others of the same import. in short, the contention about the dividend might have distracted the nation; for nothing is more common than to agree in the conquest and quarrel for the prize; therefore it is, perhaps, a happy circumstance, that our successes have prevented the dispute. if the parliament had been thrown out in their claim, which it is most probable they would, the nation likewise would have been thrown out in their expectation; for as the taxes would have been laid on by the crown without the parliament, the revenue arising therefrom, if any could have arisen, would not have gone into the exchequer, but into the privy purse, and so far from lessening the taxes, would not even have been added to them, but served only as pocket money to the crown. the more i reflect on this matter, the more i am satisfied at the blindness and ill policy of my countrymen, whose wisdom seems to operate without discernment, and their strength without an object. to the great bulwark of the nation, i mean the mercantile and manufacturing part thereof, i likewise present my address. it is your interest to see america an independent, and not a conquered country. if conquered, she is ruined; and if ruined, poor; consequently the trade will be a trifle, and her credit doubtful. if independent, she flourishes, and from her flourishing must your profits arise. it matters nothing to you who governs america, if your manufactures find a consumption there. some articles will consequently be obtained from other places, and it is right that they should; but the demand for others will increase, by the great influx of inhabitants which a state of independence and peace will occasion, and in the final event you may be enriched. the commerce of america is perfectly free, and ever will be so. she will consign away no part of it to any nation. she has not to her friends, and certainly will not to her enemies; though it is probable that your narrow-minded politicians, thinking to please you thereby, may some time or other unnecessarily make such a proposal. trade flourishes best when it is free, and it is weak policy to attempt to fetter it. her treaty with france is on the most liberal and generous principles, and the french, in their conduct towards her, have proved themselves to be philosophers, politicians, and gentlemen. to the ministry i likewise address myself. you, gentlemen, have studied the ruin of your country, from which it is not within your abilities to rescue her. your attempts to recover her are as ridiculous as your plans which involved her are detestable. the commissioners, being about to depart, will probably bring you this, and with it my sixth number, addressed to them; and in so doing they carry back more common sense than they brought, and you likewise will have more than when you sent them. having thus addressed you severally, i conclude by addressing you collectively. it is a long lane that has no turning. a period of sixteen years of misconduct and misfortune, is certainly long enough for any one nation to suffer under; and upon a supposition that war is not declared between france and you, i beg to place a line of conduct before you that will easily lead you out of all your troubles. it has been hinted before, and cannot be too much attended to. suppose america had remained unknown to europe till the present year, and that mr. banks and dr. solander, in another voyage round the world, had made the first discovery of her, in the same condition that she is now in, of arts, arms, numbers, and civilization. what, i ask, in that case, would have been your conduct towards her? for that will point out what it ought to be now. the problems and their solutions are equal, and the right line of the one is the parallel of the other. the question takes in every circumstance that can possibly arise. it reduces politics to a simple thought, and is moreover a mode of investigation, in which, while you are studying your interest the simplicity of the case will cheat you into good temper. you have nothing to do but to suppose that you have found america, and she appears found to your hand, and while in the joy of your heart you stand still to admire her, the path of politics rises straight before you. were i disposed to paint a contrast, i could easily set off what you have done in the present case, against what you would have done in that case, and by justly opposing them, conclude a picture that would make you blush. but, as, when any of the prouder passions are hurt, it is much better philosophy to let a man slip into a good temper than to attack him in a bad one, for that reason, therefore, i only state the case, and leave you to reflect upon it. to go a little back into politics, it will be found that the true interest of britain lay in proposing and promoting the independence of america immediately after the last peace; for the expense which britain had then incurred by defending america as her own dominions, ought to have shown her the policy and necessity of changing the style of the country, as the best probable method of preventing future wars and expense, and the only method by which she could hold the commerce without the charge of sovereignty. besides which, the title which she assumed, of parent country, led to, and pointed out the propriety, wisdom and advantage of a separation; for, as in private life, children grow into men, and by setting up for themselves, extend and secure the interest of the whole family, so in the settlement of colonies large enough to admit of maturity, the same policy should be pursued, and the same consequences would follow. nothing hurts the affections both of parents and children so much, as living too closely connected, and keeping up the distinction too long. domineering will not do over those, who, by a progress in life, have become equal in rank to their parents, that is, when they have families of their own; and though they may conceive themselves the subjects of their advice, will not suppose them the objects of their government. i do not, by drawing this parallel, mean to admit the title of parent country, because, if it is due any where, it is due to europe collectively, and the first settlers from england were driven here by persecution. i mean only to introduce the term for the sake of policy and to show from your title the line of your interest. when you saw the state of strength and opulence, and that by her own industry, which america arrived at, you ought to have advised her to set up for herself, and proposed an alliance of interest with her, and in so doing you would have drawn, and that at her own expense, more real advantage, and more military supplies and assistance, both of ships and men, than from any weak and wrangling government that you could exercise over her. in short, had you studied only the domestic politics of a family, you would have learned how to govern the state; but, instead of this easy and natural line, you flew out into every thing which was wild and outrageous, till, by following the passion and stupidity of the pilot, you wrecked the vessel within sight of the shore. having shown what you ought to have done, i now proceed to show why it was not done. the caterpillar circle of the court had an interest to pursue, distinct from, and opposed to yours; for though by the independence of america and an alliance therewith, the trade would have continued, if not increased, as in many articles neither country can go to a better market, and though by defending and protecting herself, she would have been no expense to you, and consequently your national charges would have decreased, and your taxes might have been proportionably lessened thereby; yet the striking off so many places from the court calendar was put in opposition to the interest of the nation. the loss of thirteen government ships, with their appendages, here and in england, is a shocking sound in the ear of a hungry courtier. your present king and ministry will be the ruin of you; and you had better risk a revolution and call a congress, than be thus led on from madness to despair, and from despair to ruin. america has set you the example, and you may follow it and be free. i now come to the last part, a war with france. this is what no man in his senses will advise you to, and all good men would wish to prevent. whether france will declare war against you, is not for me in this place to mention, or to hint, even if i knew it; but it must be madness in you to do it first. the matter is come now to a full crisis, and peace is easy if willingly set about. whatever you may think, france has behaved handsomely to you. she would have been unjust to herself to have acted otherwise than she did; and having accepted our offer of alliance she gave you genteel notice of it. there was nothing in her conduct reserved or indelicate, and while she announced her determination to support her treaty, she left you to give the first offence. america, on her part, has exhibited a character of firmness to the world. unprepared and unarmed, without form or government, she, singly opposed a nation that domineered over half the globe. the greatness of the deed demands respect; and though you may feel resentment, you are compelled both to wonder and admire. here i rest my arguments and finish my address. such as it is, it is a gift, and you are welcome. it was always my design to dedicate a crisis to you, when the time should come that would properly make it a crisis; and when, likewise, i should catch myself in a temper to write it, and suppose you in a condition to read it. that time has now arrived, and with it the opportunity for conveyance. for the commissioners--poor commissioners! having proclaimed, that "yet forty days and nineveh shall be overthrown," have waited out the date, and, discontented with their god, are returning to their gourd. and all the harm i wish them is, that it may not wither about their ears, and that they may not make their exit in the belly of a whale. common sense. philadelphia, nov. , . p.s.--though in the tranquillity of my mind i have concluded with a laugh, yet i have something to mention to the commissioners, which, to them, is serious and worthy their attention. their authority is derived from an act of parliament, which likewise describes and limits their official powers. their commission, therefore, is only a recital, and personal investiture, of those powers, or a nomination and description of the persons who are to execute them. had it contained any thing contrary to, or gone beyond the line of, the written law from which it is derived, and by which it is bound, it would, by the english constitution, have been treason in the crown, and the king been subject to an impeachment. he dared not, therefore, put in his commission what you have put in your proclamation, that is, he dared not have authorised you in that commission to burn and destroy any thing in america. you are both in the act and in the commission styled commissioners for restoring peace, and the methods for doing it are there pointed out. your last proclamation is signed by you as commissioners under that act. you make parliament the patron of its contents. yet, in the body of it, you insert matters contrary both to the spirit and letter of the act, and what likewise your king dared not have put in his commission to you. the state of things in england, gentlemen, is too ticklish for you to run hazards. you are accountable to parliament for the execution of that act according to the letter of it. your heads may pay for breaking it, for you certainly have broke it by exceeding it. and as a friend, who would wish you to escape the paw of the lion, as well as the belly of the whale, i civilly hint to you, to keep within compass. sir harry clinton, strictly speaking, is as accountable as the rest; for though a general, he is likewise a commissioner, acting under a superior authority. his first obedience is due to the act; and his plea of being a general, will not and cannot clear him as a commissioner, for that would suppose the crown, in its single capacity, to have a power of dispensing with an act of parliament. your situation, gentlemen, is nice and critical, and the more so because england is unsettled. take heed! remember the times of charles the first! for laud and stafford fell by trusting to a hope like yours. having thus shown you the danger of your proclamation, i now show you the folly of it. the means contradict your design: you threaten to lay waste, in order to render america a useless acquisition of alliance to france. i reply, that the more destruction you commit (if you could do it) the more valuable to france you make that alliance. you can destroy only houses and goods; and by so doing you increase our demand upon her for materials and merchandise; for the wants of one nation, provided it has freedom and credit, naturally produce riches to the other; and, as you can neither ruin the land nor prevent the vegetation, you would increase the exportation of our produce in payment, which would be to her a new fund of wealth. in short, had you cast about for a plan on purpose to enrich your enemies, you could not have hit upon a better. c. s. the crisis viii. address to the people of england. "trusting (says the king of england in his speech of november last,) in the divine providence, and in the justice of my cause, i am firmly resolved to prosecute the war with vigor, and to make every exertion in order to compel our enemies to equitable terms of peace and accommodation." to this declaration the united states of america, and the confederated powers of europe will reply, if britain will have war, she shall have enough of it. five years have nearly elapsed since the commencement of hostilities, and every campaign, by a gradual decay, has lessened your ability to conquer, without producing a serious thought on your condition or your fate. like a prodigal lingering in an habitual consumption, you feel the relics of life, and mistake them for recovery. new schemes, like new medicines, have administered fresh hopes, and prolonged the disease instead of curing it. a change of generals, like a change of physicians, served only to keep the flattery alive, and furnish new pretences for new extravagance. "can britain fail?"* has been proudly asked at the undertaking of every enterprise; and that "whatever she wills is fate,"*( ) has been given with the solemnity of prophetic confidence; and though the question has been constantly replied to by disappointment, and the prediction falsified by misfortune, yet still the insult continued, and your catalogue of national evils increased therewith. eager to persuade the world of her power, she considered destruction as the minister of greatness, and conceived that the glory of a nation like that of an [american] indian, lay in the number of its scalps and the miseries which it inflicts. * whitehead's new year's ode for . *( ) ode at the installation of lord north, for chancellor of the university of oxford. fire, sword and want, as far as the arms of britain could extend them, have been spread with wanton cruelty along the coast of america; and while you, remote from the scene of suffering, had nothing to lose and as little to dread, the information reached you like a tale of antiquity, in which the distance of time defaces the conception, and changes the severest sorrows into conversable amusement. this makes the second paper, addressed perhaps in vain, to the people of england. that advice should be taken wherever example has failed, or precept be regarded where warning is ridiculed, is like a picture of hope resting on despair: but when time shall stamp with universal currency the facts you have long encountered with a laugh, and the irresistible evidence of accumulated losses, like the handwriting on the wall, shall add terror to distress, you will then, in a conflict of suffering, learn to sympathize with others by feeling for yourselves. the triumphant appearance of the combined fleets in the channel and at your harbor's mouth, and the expedition of captain paul jones, on the western and eastern coasts of england and scotland, will, by placing you in the condition of an endangered country, read to you a stronger lecture on the calamities of invasion, and bring to your minds a truer picture of promiscuous distress, than the most finished rhetoric can describe or the keenest imagination conceive. hitherto you have experienced the expenses, but nothing of the miseries of war. your disappointments have been accompanied with no immediate suffering, and your losses came to you only by intelligence. like fire at a distance you heard not even the cry; you felt not the danger, you saw not the confusion. to you every thing has been foreign but the taxes to support it. you knew not what it was to be alarmed at midnight with an armed enemy in the streets. you were strangers to the distressing scene of a family in flight, and to the thousand restless cares and tender sorrows that incessantly arose. to see women and children wandering in the severity of winter, with the broken remains of a well furnished house, and seeking shelter in every crib and hut, were matters that you had no conception of. you knew not what it was to stand by and see your goods chopped for fuel, and your beds ripped to pieces to make packages for plunder. the misery of others, like a tempestuous night, added to the pleasures of your own security. you even enjoyed the storm, by contemplating the difference of conditions, and that which carried sorrow into the breasts of thousands served but to heighten in you a species of tranquil pride. yet these are but the fainter sufferings of war, when compared with carnage and slaughter, the miseries of a military hospital, or a town in flames. the people of america, by anticipating distress, had fortified their minds against every species you could inflict. they had resolved to abandon their homes, to resign them to destruction, and to seek new settlements rather than submit. thus familiarized to misfortune, before it arrived, they bore their portion with the less regret: the justness of their cause was a continual source of consolation, and the hope of final victory, which never left them, served to lighten the load and sweeten the cup allotted them to drink. but when their troubles shall become yours, and invasion be transferred upon the invaders, you will have neither their extended wilderness to fly to, their cause to comfort you, nor their hope to rest upon. distress with them was sharpened by no self-reflection. they had not brought it on themselves. on the contrary, they had by every proceeding endeavored to avoid it, and had descended even below the mark of congressional character, to prevent a war. the national honor or the advantages of independence were matters which, at the commencement of the dispute, they had never studied, and it was only at the last moment that the measure was resolved on. thus circumstanced, they naturally and conscientiously felt a dependence upon providence. they had a clear pretension to it, and had they failed therein, infidelity had gained a triumph. but your condition is the reverse of theirs. every thing you suffer you have sought: nay, had you created mischiefs on purpose to inherit them, you could not have secured your title by a firmer deed. the world awakens with no pity it your complaints. you felt none for others; you deserve none for yourselves. nature does not interest herself in cases like yours, but, on the contrary, turns from them with dislike, and abandons them to punishment. you may now present memorials to what court you please, but so far as america is the object, none will listen. the policy of europe, and the propensity there in every mind to curb insulting ambition, and bring cruelty to judgment, are unitedly against you; and where nature and interest reinforce with each other, the compact is too intimate to be dissolved. make but the case of others your own, and your own theirs, and you will then have a clear idea of the whole. had france acted towards her colonies as you have done, you would have branded her with every epithet of abhorrence; and had you, like her, stepped in to succor a struggling people, all europe must have echoed with your own applauses. but entangled in the passion of dispute you see it not as you ought, and form opinions thereon which suit with no interest but your own. you wonder that america does not rise in union with you to impose on herself a portion of your taxes and reduce herself to unconditional submission. you are amazed that the southern powers of europe do not assist you in conquering a country which is afterwards to be turned against themselves; and that the northern ones do not contribute to reinstate you in america who already enjoy the market for naval stores by the separation. you seem surprised that holland does not pour in her succors to maintain you mistress of the seas, when her own commerce is suffering by your act of navigation; or that any country should study her own interest while yours is on the carpet. such excesses of passionate folly, and unjust as well as unwise resentment, have driven you on, like pharaoh, to unpitied miseries, and while the importance of the quarrel shall perpetuate your disgrace, the flag of america will carry it round the world. the natural feelings of every rational being will be against you, and wherever the story shall be told, you will have neither excuse nor consolation left. with an unsparing hand, and an insatiable mind, you have desolated the world, to gain dominion and to lose it; and while, in a frenzy of avarice and ambition, the east and the west are doomed to tributary bondage, you rapidly earned destruction as the wages of a nation. at the thoughts of a war at home, every man amongst you ought to tremble. the prospect is far more dreadful there than in america. here the party that was against the measures of the continent were in general composed of a kind of neutrals, who added strength to neither army. there does not exist a being so devoid of sense and sentiment as to covet "unconditional submission," and therefore no man in america could be with you in principle. several might from a cowardice of mind, prefer it to the hardships and dangers of opposing it; but the same disposition that gave them such a choice, unfitted them to act either for or against us. but england is rent into parties, with equal shares of resolution. the principle which produced the war divides the nation. their animosities are in the highest state of fermentation, and both sides, by a call of the militia, are in arms. no human foresight can discern, no conclusion can be formed, what turn a war might take, if once set on foot by an invasion. she is not now in a fit disposition to make a common cause of her own affairs, and having no conquests to hope for abroad, and nothing but expenses arising at home, her everything is staked upon a defensive combat, and the further she goes the worse she is off. there are situations that a nation may be in, in which peace or war, abstracted from every other consideration, may be politically right or wrong. when nothing can be lost by a war, but what must be lost without it, war is then the policy of that country; and such was the situation of america at the commencement of hostilities: but when no security can be gained by a war, but what may be accomplished by a peace, the case becomes reversed, and such now is the situation of england. that america is beyond the reach of conquest, is a fact which experience has shown and time confirmed, and this admitted, what, i ask, is now the object of contention? if there be any honor in pursuing self-destruction with inflexible passion--if national suicide be the perfection of national glory, you may, with all the pride of criminal happiness, expire unenvied and unrivalled. but when the tumult of war shall cease, and the tempest of present passions be succeeded by calm reflection, or when those, who, surviving its fury, shall inherit from you a legacy of debts and misfortunes, when the yearly revenue scarcely be able to discharge the interest of the one, and no possible remedy be left for the other, ideas far different from the present will arise, and embitter the remembrance of former follies. a mind disarmed of its rage feels no pleasure in contemplating a frantic quarrel. sickness of thought, the sure consequence of conduct like yours, leaves no ability for enjoyment, no relish for resentment; and though, like a man in a fit, you feel not the injury of the struggle, nor distinguish between strength and disease, the weakness will nevertheless be proportioned to the violence, and the sense of pain increase with the recovery. to what persons or to whose system of politics you owe your present state of wretchedness, is a matter of total indifference to america. they have contributed, however unwillingly, to set her above themselves, and she, in the tranquillity of conquest, resigns the inquiry. the case now is not so properly who began the war, as who continues it. that there are men in all countries to whom a state of war is a mine of wealth, is a fact never to be doubted. characters like these naturally breed in the putrefaction of distempered times, and after fattening on the disease, they perish with it, or, impregnated with the stench, retreat into obscurity. but there are several erroneous notions to which you likewise owe a share of your misfortunes, and which, if continued, will only increase your trouble and your losses. an opinion hangs about the gentlemen of the minority, that america would relish measures under their administration, which she would not from the present cabinet. on this rock lord chatham would have split had he gained the helm, and several of his survivors are steering the same course. such distinctions in the infancy of the argument had some degree of foundation, but they now serve no other purpose than to lengthen out a war, in which the limits of a dispute, being fixed by the fate of arms, and guaranteed by treaties, are not to be changed or altered by trivial circumstances. the ministry, and many of the minority, sacrifice their time in disputing on a question with which they have nothing to do, namely, whether america shall be independent or not. whereas the only question that can come under their determination is, whether they will accede to it or not. they confound a military question with a political one, and undertake to supply by a vote what they lost by a battle. say she shall not be independent, and it will signify as much as if they voted against a decree of fate, or say that she shall, and she will be no more independent than before. questions which, when determined, cannot be executed, serve only to show the folly of dispute and the weakness of disputants. from a long habit of calling america your own, you suppose her governed by the same prejudices and conceits which govern yourselves. because you have set up a particular denomination of religion to the exclusion of all others, you imagine she must do the same, and because you, with an unsociable narrowness of mind, have cherished enmity against france and spain, you suppose her alliance must be defective in friendship. copying her notions of the world from you, she formerly thought as you instructed, but now feeling herself free, and the prejudice removed, she thinks and acts upon a different system. it frequently happens that in proportion as we are taught to dislike persons and countries, not knowing why, we feel an ardor of esteem upon the removal of the mistake: it seems as if something was to be made amends for, and we eagerly give in to every office of friendship, to atone for the injury of the error. but, perhaps, there is something in the extent of countries, which, among the generality of people, insensibly communicates extension of the mind. the soul of an islander, in its native state, seems bounded by the foggy confines of the water's edge, and all beyond affords to him matters only for profit or curiosity, not for friendship. his island is to him his world, and fixed to that, his every thing centers in it; while those who are inhabitants of a continent, by casting their eye over a larger field, take in likewise a larger intellectual circuit, and thus approaching nearer to an acquaintance with the universe, their atmosphere of thought is extended, and their liberality fills a wider space. in short, our minds seem to be measured by countries when we are men, as they are by places when we are children, and until something happens to disentangle us from the prejudice, we serve under it without perceiving it. in addition to this, it may be remarked, that men who study any universal science, the principles of which are universally known, or admitted, and applied without distinction to the common benefit of all countries, obtain thereby a larger share of philanthropy than those who only study national arts and improvements. natural philosophy, mathematics and astronomy, carry the mind from the country to the creation, and give it a fitness suited to the extent. it was not newton's honor, neither could it be his pride, that he was an englishman, but that he was a philosopher, the heavens had liberated him from the prejudices of an island, and science had expanded his soul as boundless as his studies. common sense. philadelphia, march, . the crisis ix. (had america pursued her advantages) had america pursued her advantages with half the spirit that she resisted her misfortunes, she would, before now, have been a conquering and a peaceful people; but lulled in the lap of soft tranquillity, she rested on her hopes, and adversity only has convulsed her into action. whether subtlety or sincerity at the close of the last year induced the enemy to an appearance for peace, is a point not material to know; it is sufficient that we see the effects it has had on our politics, and that we sternly rise to resent the delusion. the war, on the part of america, has been a war of natural feelings. brave in distress; serene in conquest; drowsy while at rest; and in every situation generously disposed to peace; a dangerous calm, and a most heightened zeal have, as circumstances varied, succeeded each other. every passion but that of despair has been called to a tour of duty; and so mistaken has been the enemy, of our abilities and disposition, that when she supposed us conquered, we rose the conquerors. the extensiveness of the united states, and the variety of their resources; the universality of their cause, the quick operation of their feelings, and the similarity of their sentiments, have, in every trying situation, produced a something, which, favored by providence, and pursued with ardor, has accomplished in an instant the business of a campaign. we have never deliberately sought victory, but snatched it; and bravely undone in an hour the blotted operations of a season. the reported fate of charleston, like the misfortunes of , has at last called forth a spirit, and kindled up a flame, which perhaps no other event could have produced. if the enemy has circulated a falsehood, they have unwisely aggravated us into life, and if they have told us the truth, they have unintentionally done us a service. we were returning with folded arms from the fatigues of war, and thinking and sitting leisurely down to enjoy repose. the dependence that has been put upon charleston threw a drowsiness over america. we looked on the business done--the conflict over--the matter settled--or that all which remained unfinished would follow of itself. in this state of dangerous relaxation, exposed to the poisonous infusions of the enemy, and having no common danger to attract our attention, we were extinguishing, by stages, the ardor we began with, and surrendering by piece-meal the virtue that defended us. afflicting as the loss of charleston may be, yet if it universally rouse us from the slumber of twelve months past, and renew in us the spirit of former days, it will produce an advantage more important than its loss. america ever is what she thinks herself to be. governed by sentiment, and acting her own mind, she becomes, as she pleases, the victor or the victim. it is not the conquest of towns, nor the accidental capture of garrisons, that can reduce a country so extensive as this. the sufferings of one part can never be relieved by the exertions of another, and there is no situation the enemy can be placed in that does not afford to us the same advantages which he seeks himself. by dividing his force, he leaves every post attackable. it is a mode of war that carries with it a confession of weakness, and goes on the principle of distress rather than conquest. the decline of the enemy is visible, not only in their operations, but in their plans; charleston originally made but a secondary object in the system of attack, and it is now become their principal one, because they have not been able to succeed elsewhere. it would have carried a cowardly appearance in europe had they formed their grand expedition, in , against a part of the continent where there was no army, or not a sufficient one to oppose them; but failing year after year in their impressions here, and to the eastward and northward, they deserted their capital design, and prudently contenting themselves with what they can get, give a flourish of honor to conceal disgrace. but this piece-meal work is not conquering the continent. it is a discredit in them to attempt it, and in us to suffer it. it is now full time to put an end to a war of aggravations, which, on one side, has no possible object, and on the other has every inducement which honor, interest, safety and happiness can inspire. if we suffer them much longer to remain among us, we shall become as bad as themselves. an association of vice will reduce us more than the sword. a nation hardened in the practice of iniquity knows better how to profit by it, than a young country newly corrupted. we are not a match for them in the line of advantageous guilt, nor they for us on the principles which we bravely set out with. our first days were our days of honor. they have marked the character of america wherever the story of her wars are told; and convinced of this, we have nothing to do but wisely and unitedly to tread the well known track. the progress of a war is often as ruinous to individuals, as the issue of it is to a nation; and it is not only necessary that our forces be such that we be conquerors in the end, but that by timely exertions we be secure in the interim. the present campaign will afford an opportunity which has never presented itself before, and the preparations for it are equally necessary, whether charleston stand or fall. suppose the first, it is in that case only a failure of the enemy, not a defeat. all the conquest that a besieged town can hope for, is, not to be conquered; and compelling an enemy to raise the siege, is to the besieged a victory. but there must be a probability amounting almost to a certainty, that would justify a garrison marching out to attack a retreat. therefore should charleston not be taken, and the enemy abandon the siege, every other part of the continent should prepare to meet them; and, on the contrary, should it be taken, the same preparations are necessary to balance the loss, and put ourselves in a position to co-operate with our allies, immediately on their arrival. we are not now fighting our battles alone, as we were in ; england, from a malicious disposition to america, has not only not declared war against france and spain, but, the better to prosecute her passions here, has afforded those powers no military object, and avoids them, to distress us. she will suffer her west india islands to be overrun by france, and her southern settlements to be taken by spain, rather than quit the object that gratifies her revenge. this conduct, on the part of britain, has pointed out the propriety of france sending a naval and land force to co-operate with america on the spot. their arrival cannot be very distant, nor the ravages of the enemy long. the recruiting the army, and procuring the supplies, are the two things most necessary to be accomplished, and a capture of either of the enemy's divisions will restore to america peace and plenty. at a crisis, big, like the present, with expectation and events, the whole country is called to unanimity and exertion. not an ability ought now to sleep, that can produce but a mite to the general good, nor even a whisper to pass that militates against it. the necessity of the case, and the importance of the consequences, admit no delay from a friend, no apology from an enemy. to spare now, would be the height of extravagance, and to consult present ease, would be to sacrifice it perhaps forever. america, rich in patriotism and produce, can want neither men nor supplies, when a serious necessity calls them forth. the slow operation of taxes, owing to the extensiveness of collection, and their depreciated value before they arrived in the treasury, have, in many instances, thrown a burden upon government, which has been artfully interpreted by the enemy into a general decline throughout the country. yet this, inconvenient as it may at first appear, is not only remediable, but may be turned to an immediate advantage; for it makes no real difference, whether a certain number of men, or company of militia (and in this country every man is a militia-man), are directed by law to send a recruit at their own expense, or whether a tax is laid on them for that purpose, and the man hired by government afterwards. the first, if there is any difference, is both cheapest and best, because it saves the expense which would attend collecting it as a tax, and brings the man sooner into the field than the modes of recruiting formerly used; and, on this principle, a law has been passed in this state, for recruiting two men from each company of militia, which will add upwards of a thousand to the force of the country. but the flame which has broken forth in this city since the report from new york, of the loss of charleston, not only does honor to the place, but, like the blaze of , will kindle into action the scattered sparks throughout america. the valor of a country may be learned by the bravery of its soldiery, and the general cast of its inhabitants, but confidence of success is best discovered by the active measures pursued by men of property; and when the spirit of enterprise becomes so universal as to act at once on all ranks of men, a war may then, and not till then, be styled truly popular. in , the ardor of the enterprising part was considerably checked by the real revolt of some, and the coolness of others. but in the present case, there is a firmness in the substance and property of the country to the public cause. an association has been entered into by the merchants, tradesmen, and principal inhabitants of the city [philadelphia], to receive and support the new state money at the value of gold and silver; a measure which, while it does them honor, will likewise contribute to their interest, by rendering the operations of the campaign convenient and effectual. nor has the spirit of exertion stopped here. a voluntary subscription is likewise begun, to raise a fund of hard money, to be given as bounties, to fill up the full quota of the pennsylvania line. it has been the remark of the enemy, that every thing in america has been done by the force of government; but when she sees individuals throwing in their voluntary aid, and facilitating the public measures in concert with the established powers of the country, it will convince her that the cause of america stands not on the will of a few but on the broad foundation of property and popularity. thus aided and thus supported, disaffection will decline, and the withered head of tyranny expire in america. the ravages of the enemy will be short and limited, and like all their former ones, will produce a victory over themselves. common sense. philadelphia, june , . p. s. at the time of writing this number of the crisis, the loss of charleston, though believed by some, was more confidently disbelieved by others. but there ought to be no longer a doubt upon the matter. charleston is gone, and i believe for the want of a sufficient supply of provisions. the man that does not now feel for the honor of the best and noblest cause that ever a country engaged in, and exert himself accordingly, is no longer worthy of a peaceable residence among a people determined to be free. c. s. the crisis extraordinary on the subject of taxation. it is impossible to sit down and think seriously on the affairs of america, but the original principles upon which she resisted, and the glow and ardor which they inspired, will occur like the undefaced remembrance of a lovely scene. to trace over in imagination the purity of the cause, the voluntary sacrifices that were made to support it, and all the various turnings of the war in its defence, is at once both paying and receiving respect. the principles deserve to be remembered, and to remember them rightly is repossessing them. in this indulgence of generous recollection, we become gainers by what we seem to give, and the more we bestow the richer we become. so extensively right was the ground on which america proceeded, that it not only took in every just and liberal sentiment which could impress the heart, but made it the direct interest of every class and order of men to defend the country. the war, on the part of britain, was originally a war of covetousness. the sordid and not the splendid passions gave it being. the fertile fields and prosperous infancy of america appeared to her as mines for tributary wealth. she viewed the hive, and disregarding the industry that had enriched it, thirsted for the honey. but in the present stage of her affairs, the violence of temper is added to the rage of avarice; and therefore, that which at the first setting out proceeded from purity of principle and public interest, is now heightened by all the obligations of necessity; for it requires but little knowledge of human nature to discern what would be the consequence, were america again reduced to the subjection of britain. uncontrolled power, in the hands of an incensed, imperious, and rapacious conqueror, is an engine of dreadful execution, and woe be to that country over which it can be exercised. the names of whig and tory would then be sunk in the general term of rebel, and the oppression, whatever it might be, would, with very few instances of exception, light equally on all. britain did not go to war with america for the sake of dominion, because she was then in possession; neither was it for the extension of trade and commerce, because she had monopolized the whole, and the country had yielded to it; neither was it to extinguish what she might call rebellion, because before she began no resistance existed. it could then be from no other motive than avarice, or a design of establishing, in the first instance, the same taxes in america as are paid in england (which, as i shall presently show, are above eleven times heavier than the taxes we now pay for the present year, ) or, in the second instance, to confiscate the whole property of america, in case of resistance and conquest of the latter, of which she had then no doubt. i shall now proceed to show what the taxes in england are, and what the yearly expense of the present war is to her--what the taxes of this country amount to, and what the annual expense of defending it effectually will be to us; and shall endeavor concisely to point out the cause of our difficulties, and the advantages on one side, and the consequences on the other, in case we do, or do not, put ourselves in an effectual state of defence. i mean to be open, candid, and sincere. i see a universal wish to expel the enemy from the country, a murmuring because the war is not carried on with more vigor, and my intention is to show, as shortly as possible, both the reason and the remedy. the number of souls in england (exclusive of scotland and ireland) is seven millions,* and the number of souls in america is three millions. * this is taking the highest number that the people of england have been, or can be rated at. the amount of taxes in england (exclusive of scotland and ireland) was, before the present war commenced, eleven millions six hundred and forty-two thousand six hundred and fifty-three pounds sterling; which, on an average, is no less a sum than one pound thirteen shillings and three-pence sterling per head per annum, men, women, and children; besides county taxes, taxes for the support of the poor, and a tenth of all the produce of the earth for the support of the bishops and clergy.* nearly five millions of this sum went annually to pay the interest of the national debt, contracted by former wars, and the remaining sum of six millions six hundred and forty-two thousand six hundred pounds was applied to defray the yearly expense of government, the peace establishment of the army and navy, placemen, pensioners, etc.; consequently the whole of the enormous taxes being thus appropriated, she had nothing to spare out of them towards defraying the expenses of the present war or any other. yet had she not been in debt at the beginning of the war, as we were not, and, like us, had only a land and not a naval war to carry on, her then revenue of eleven millions and a half pounds sterling would have defrayed all her annual expenses of war and government within each year. * the following is taken from dr. price's state of the taxes of england. an account of the money drawn from the public by taxes, annually, being the medium of three years before the year . amount of customs in england , , l. amount of the excise in england , , land tax at s. , , land tax at s. in the pound , salt duties , duties on stamps, cards, dice, advertisements, bonds, leases, indentures, newspapers, almanacks, etc. , duties on houses and windows , post office, seizures, wine licences, hackney coaches, etc. , annual profits from lotteries , expense of collecting the excise in england , expense of collecting the customs in england , interest of loans on the land tax at s. expenses of collection, militia, etc. , perquisites, etc. to custom-house officers, &c. supposed , expense of collecting the salt duties in england / per cent. , bounties on fish exported , expense of collecting the duties on stamps, cards, advertisements, etc. at and / per cent. , total , , l. but this not being the case with her, she is obliged to borrow about ten millions pounds sterling, yearly, to prosecute the war that she is now engaged in, (this year she borrowed twelve) and lay on new taxes to discharge the interest; allowing that the present war has cost her only fifty millions sterling, the interest thereon, at five per cent., will be two millions and an half; therefore the amount of her taxes now must be fourteen millions, which on an average is no less than forty shillings sterling, per head, men, women and children, throughout the nation. now as this expense of fifty millions was borrowed on the hopes of conquering america, and as it was avarice which first induced her to commence the war, how truly wretched and deplorable would the condition of this country be, were she, by her own remissness, to suffer an enemy of such a disposition, and so circumstanced, to reduce her to subjection. i now proceed to the revenues of america. i have already stated the number of souls in america to be three millions, and by a calculation that i have made, which i have every reason to believe is sufficiently correct, the whole expense of the war, and the support of the several governments, may be defrayed for two million pounds sterling annually; which, on an average, is thirteen shillings and four pence per head, men, women, and children, and the peace establishment at the end of the war will be but three quarters of a million, or five shillings sterling per head. now, throwing out of the question everything of honor, principle, happiness, freedom, and reputation in the world, and taking it up on the simple ground of interest, i put the following case: suppose britain was to conquer america, and, as a conqueror, was to lay her under no other conditions than to pay the same proportion towards her annual revenue which the people of england pay: our share, in that case, would be six million pounds sterling yearly. can it then be a question, whether it is best to raise two millions to defend the country, and govern it ourselves, and only three quarters of a million afterwards, or pay six millions to have it conquered, and let the enemy govern it? can it be supposed that conquerors would choose to put themselves in a worse condition than what they granted to the conquered? in england, the tax on rum is five shillings and one penny sterling per gallon, which is one silver dollar and fourteen coppers. now would it not be laughable to imagine, that after the expense they have been at, they would let either whig or tory drink it cheaper than themselves? coffee, which is so inconsiderable an article of consumption and support here, is there loaded with a duty which makes the price between five and six shillings per pound, and a penalty of fifty pounds sterling on any person detected in roasting it in his own house. there is scarcely a necessary of life that you can eat, drink, wear, or enjoy, that is not there loaded with a tax; even the light from heaven is only permitted to shine into their dwellings by paying eighteen pence sterling per window annually; and the humblest drink of life, small beer, cannot there be purchased without a tax of nearly two coppers per gallon, besides a heavy tax upon the malt, and another on the hops before it is brewed, exclusive of a land-tax on the earth which produces them. in short, the condition of that country, in point of taxation, is so oppressive, the number of her poor so great, and the extravagance and rapaciousness of the court so enormous, that, were they to effect a conquest of america, it is then only that the distresses of america would begin. neither would it signify anything to a man whether he be whig or tory. the people of england, and the ministry of that country, know us by no such distinctions. what they want is clear, solid revenue, and the modes which they would take to procure it, would operate alike on all. their manner of reasoning would be short, because they would naturally infer, that if we were able to carry on a war of five or six years against them, we were able to pay the same taxes which they do. i have already stated that the expense of conducting the present war, and the government of the several states, may be done for two millions sterling, and the establishment in the time of peace, for three quarters of a million.* * i have made the calculations in sterling, because it is a rate generally known in all the states, and because, likewise, it admits of an easy comparison between our expenses to support the war, and those of the enemy. four silver dollars and a half is one pound sterling, and three pence over. as to navy matters, they flourish so well, and are so well attended to by individuals, that i think it consistent on every principle of real use and economy, to turn the navy into hard money (keeping only three or four packets) and apply it to the service of the army. we shall not have a ship the less; the use of them, and the benefit from them, will be greatly increased, and their expense saved. we are now allied with a formidable naval power, from whom we derive the assistance of a navy. and the line in which we can prosecute the war, so as to reduce the common enemy and benefit the alliance most effectually, will be by attending closely to the land service. i estimate the charge of keeping up and maintaining an army, officering them, and all expenses included, sufficient for the defence of the country, to be equal to the expense of forty thousand men at thirty pounds sterling per head, which is one million two hundred thousand pounds. i likewise allow four hundred thousand pounds for continental expenses at home and abroad. and four hundred thousand pounds for the support of the several state governments--the amount will then be: for the army , , l. continental expenses at home and abroad , government of the several states , total , , l. i take the proportion of this state, pennsylvania, to be an eighth part of the thirteen united states; the quota then for us to raise will be two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling; two hundred thousand of which will be our share for the support and pay of the army, and continental expenses at home and abroad, and fifty thousand pounds for the support of the state government. in order to gain an idea of the proportion in which the raising such a sum will fall, i make the following calculation: pennsylvania contains three hundred and seventy-five thousand inhabitants, men, women and children; which is likewise an eighth of the number of inhabitants of the whole united states: therefore, two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling to be raised among three hundred and seventy-five thousand persons, is, on an average, thirteen shillings and four pence per head, per annum, or something more than one shilling sterling per month. and our proportion of three quarters of a million for the government of the country, in time of peace, will be ninety-three thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds sterling; fifty thousand of which will be for the government expenses of the state, and forty-three thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds for continental expenses at home and abroad. the peace establishment then will, on an average, be five shillings sterling per head. whereas, was england now to stop, and the war cease, her peace establishment would continue the same as it is now, viz. forty shillings per head; therefore was our taxes necessary for carrying on the war, as much per head as hers now is, and the difference to be only whether we should, at the end of the war, pay at the rate of five shillings per head, or forty shillings per head, the case needs no thinking of. but as we can securely defend and keep the country for one third less than what our burden would be if it was conquered, and support the governments afterwards for one eighth of what britain would levy on us, and could i find a miser whose heart never felt the emotion of a spark of principle, even that man, uninfluenced by every love but the love of money, and capable of no attachment but to his interest, would and must, from the frugality which governs him, contribute to the defence of the country, or he ceases to be a miser and becomes an idiot. but when we take in with it every thing that can ornament mankind; when the line of our interest becomes the line of our happiness; when all that can cheer and animate the heart, when a sense of honor, fame, character, at home and abroad, are interwoven not only with the security but the increase of property, there exists not a man in america, unless he be an hired emissary, who does not see that his good is connected with keeping up a sufficient defence. i do not imagine that an instance can be produced in the world, of a country putting herself to such an amazing charge to conquer and enslave another, as britain has done. the sum is too great for her to think of with any tolerable degree of temper; and when we consider the burden she sustains, as well as the disposition she has shown, it would be the height of folly in us to suppose that she would not reimburse herself by the most rapid means, had she america once more within her power. with such an oppression of expense, what would an empty conquest be to her! what relief under such circumstances could she derive from a victory without a prize? it was money, it was revenue she first went to war for, and nothing but that would satisfy her. it is not the nature of avarice to be satisfied with any thing else. every passion that acts upon mankind has a peculiar mode of operation. many of them are temporary and fluctuating; they admit of cessation and variety. but avarice is a fixed, uniform passion. it neither abates of its vigor nor changes its object; and the reason why it does not, is founded in the nature of things, for wealth has not a rival where avarice is a ruling passion. one beauty may excel another, and extinguish from the mind of man the pictured remembrance of a former one: but wealth is the phoenix of avarice, and therefore it cannot seek a new object, because there is not another in the world. i now pass on to show the value of the present taxes, and compare them with the annual expense; but this i shall preface with a few explanatory remarks. there are two distinct things which make the payment of taxes difficult; the one is the large and real value of the sum to be paid, and the other is the scarcity of the thing in which the payment is to be made; and although these appear to be one and the same, they are in several instances riot only different, but the difficulty springs from different causes. suppose a tax to be laid equal to one half of what a man's yearly income is, such a tax could not be paid, because the property could not be spared; and on the other hand, suppose a very trifling tax was laid, to be collected in pearls, such a tax likewise could not be paid, because they could not be had. now any person may see that these are distinct cases, and the latter of them is a representation of our own. that the difficulty cannot proceed from the former, that is, from the real value or weight of the tax, is evident at the first view to any person who will consider it. the amount of the quota of taxes for this state for the year, , (and so in proportion for every other state,) is twenty millions of dollars, which at seventy for one, is but sixty-four thousand two hundred and eighty pounds three shillings sterling, and on an average, is no more than three shillings and five pence sterling per head, per annum, per man, woman and child, or threepence two-fifths per head per month. now here is a clear, positive fact, that cannot be contradicted, and which proves that the difficulty cannot be in the weight of the tax, for in itself it is a trifle, and far from being adequate to our quota of the expense of the war. the quit-rents of one penny sterling per acre on only one half of the state, come to upwards of fifty thousand pounds, which is almost as much as all the taxes of the present year, and as those quit-rents made no part of the taxes then paid, and are now discontinued, the quantity of money drawn for public-service this year, exclusive of the militia fines, which i shall take notice of in the process of this work, is less than what was paid and payable in any year preceding the revolution, and since the last war; what i mean is, that the quit-rents and taxes taken together came to a larger sum then, than the present taxes without the quit-rents do now. my intention by these arguments and calculations is to place the difficulty to the right cause, and show that it does not proceed from the weight or worth of the tax, but from the scarcity of the medium in which it is paid; and to illustrate this point still further, i shall now show, that if the tax of twenty millions of dollars was of four times the real value it now is, or nearly so, which would be about two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling, and would be our full quota, this sum would have been raised with more ease, and have been less felt, than the present sum of only sixty-four thousand two hundred and eighty pounds. the convenience or inconvenience of paying a tax in money arises from the quantity of money that can be spared out of trade. when the emissions stopped, the continent was left in possession of two hundred millions of dollars, perhaps as equally dispersed as it was possible for trade to do it. and as no more was to be issued, the rise or fall of prices could neither increase nor diminish the quantity. it therefore remained the same through all the fluctuations of trade and exchange. now had the exchange stood at twenty for one, which was the rate congress calculated upon when they arranged the quota of the several states, the latter end of last year, trade would have been carried on for nearly four times less money than it is now, and consequently the twenty millions would have been spared with much greater ease, and when collected would have been of almost four times the value that they now are. and on the other hand, was the depreciation to be ninety or one hundred for one, the quantity required for trade would be more than at sixty or seventy for one, and though the value of them would be less, the difficulty of sparing the money out of trade would be greater. and on these facts and arguments i rest the matter, to prove that it is not the want of property, but the scarcity of the medium by which the proportion of property for taxation is to be measured out, that makes the embarrassment which we lie under. there is not money enough, and, what is equally as true, the people will not let there be money enough. while i am on the subject of the currency, i shall offer one remark which will appear true to everybody, and can be accounted for by nobody, which is, that the better the times were, the worse the money grew; and the worse the times were, the better the money stood. it never depreciated by any advantage obtained by the enemy. the troubles of , and the loss of philadelphia in , made no sensible impression on it, and every one knows that the surrender of charleston did not produce the least alteration in the rate of exchange, which, for long before, and for more than three months after, stood at sixty for one. it seems as if the certainty of its being our own, made us careless of its value, and that the most distant thoughts of losing it made us hug it the closer, like something we were loth to part with; or that we depreciate it for our pastime, which, when called to seriousness by the enemy, we leave off to renew again at our leisure. in short, our good luck seems to break us, and our bad makes us whole. passing on from this digression, i shall now endeavor to bring into one view the several parts which i have already stated, and form thereon some propositions, and conclude. i have placed before the reader, the average tax per head, paid by the people of england; which is forty shillings sterling. and i have shown the rate on an average per head, which will defray all the expenses of the war to us, and support the several governments without running the country into debt, which is thirteen shillings and four pence. i have shown what the peace establishment may be conducted for, viz., an eighth part of what it would be, if under the government of britain. and i have likewise shown what the average per head of the present taxes is, namely, three shillings and fivepence sterling, or threepence two-fifths per month; and that their whole yearly value, in sterling, is only sixty-four thousand two hundred and eighty pounds. whereas our quota, to keep the payments equal with the expenses, is two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. consequently, there is a deficiency of one hundred and eighty-five thousand seven hundred and twenty pounds, and the same proportion of defect, according to the several quotas, happens in every other state. and this defect is the cause why the army has been so indifferently fed, clothed and paid. it is the cause, likewise, of the nerveless state of the campaign, and the insecurity of the country. now, if a tax equal to thirteen and fourpence per head, will remove all these difficulties, and make people secure in their homes, leave them to follow the business of their stores and farms unmolested, and not only drive out but keep out the enemy from the country; and if the neglect of raising this sum will let them in, and produce the evils which might be prevented--on which side, i ask, does the wisdom, interest and policy lie? or, rather, would it not be an insult to reason, to put the question? the sum, when proportioned out according to the several abilities of the people, can hurt no one, but an inroad from the enemy ruins hundreds of families. look at the destruction done in this city [philadelphia]. the many houses totally destroyed, and others damaged; the waste of fences in the country round it, besides the plunder of furniture, forage, and provisions. i do not suppose that half a million sterling would reinstate the sufferers; and, does this, i ask, bear any proportion to the expense that would make us secure? the damage, on an average, is at least ten pounds sterling per head, which is as much as thirteen shillings and fourpence per head comes to for fifteen years. the same has happened on the frontiers, and in the jerseys, new york, and other places where the enemy has been--carolina and georgia are likewise suffering the same fate. that the people generally do not understand the insufficiency of the taxes to carry on the war, is evident, not only from common observation, but from the construction of several petitions which were presented to the assembly of this state, against the recommendation of congress of the th of march last, for taking up and funding the present currency at forty to one, and issuing new money in its stead. the prayer of the petition was, that the currency might be appreciated by taxes (meaning the present taxes) and that part of the taxes be applied to the support of the army, if the army could not be otherwise supported. now it could not have been possible for such a petition to have been presented, had the petitioners known, that so far from part of the taxes being sufficient for the support of the whole of them falls three-fourths short of the year's expenses. before i proceed to propose methods by which a sufficiency of money may be raised, i shall take a short view of the general state of the country. notwithstanding the weight of the war, the ravages of the enemy, and the obstructions she has thrown in the way of trade and commerce, so soon does a young country outgrow misfortune, that america has already surmounted many that heavily oppressed her. for the first year or two of the war, we were shut up within our ports, scarce venturing to look towards the ocean. now our rivers are beautified with large and valuable vessels, our stores filled with merchandise, and the produce of the country has a ready market, and an advantageous price. gold and silver, that for a while seemed to have retreated again within the bowels of the earth, have once more risen into circulation, and every day adds new strength to trade, commerce and agriculture. in a pamphlet, written by sir john dalrymple, and dispersed in america in the year , he asserted that two twenty-gun ships, nay, says he, tenders of those ships, stationed between albermarle sound and chesapeake bay, would shut up the trade of america for miles. how little did sir john dalrymple know of the abilities of america! while under the government of britain, the trade of this country was loaded with restrictions. it was only a few foreign ports which we were allowed to sail to. now it is otherwise; and allowing that the quantity of trade is but half what it was before the war, the case must show the vast advantage of an open trade, because the present quantity under her restrictions could not support itself; from which i infer, that if half the quantity without the restrictions can bear itself up nearly, if not quite, as well as the whole when subject to them, how prosperous must the condition of america be when the whole shall return open with all the world. by the trade i do not mean the employment of a merchant only, but the whole interest and business of the country taken collectively. it is not so much my intention, by this publication, to propose particular plans for raising money, as it is to show the necessity and the advantages to be derived from it. my principal design is to form the disposition of the people to the measures which i am fully persuaded it is their interest and duty to adopt, and which need no other force to accomplish them than the force of being felt. but as every hint may be useful, i shall throw out a sketch, and leave others to make such improvements upon it as to them may appear reasonable. the annual sum wanted is two millions, and the average rate in which it falls, is thirteen shillings and fourpence per head. suppose, then, that we raise half the sum and sixty thousand pounds over. the average rate thereof will be seven shillings per head. in this case we shall have half the supply that we want, and an annual fund of sixty thousand pounds whereon to borrow the other million; because sixty thousand pounds is the interest of a million at six per cent.; and if at the end of another year we should be obliged, by the continuance of the war, to borrow another million, the taxes will be increased to seven shillings and sixpence; and thus for every million borrowed, an additional tax, equal to sixpence per head, must be levied. the sum to be raised next year will be one million and sixty thousand pounds: one half of which i would propose should be raised by duties on imported goods, and prize goods, and the other half by a tax on landed property and houses, or such other means as each state may devise. but as the duties on imports and prize goods must be the same in all the states, therefore the rate per cent., or what other form the duty shall be laid, must be ascertained and regulated by congress, and ingrafted in that form into the law of each state; and the monies arising therefrom carried into the treasury of each state. the duties to be paid in gold or silver. there are many reasons why a duty on imports is the most convenient duty or tax that can be collected; one of which is, because the whole is payable in a few places in a country, and it likewise operates with the greatest ease and equality, because as every one pays in proportion to what he consumes, so people in general consume in proportion to what they can afford; and therefore the tax is regulated by the abilities which every man supposes himself to have, or in other words, every man becomes his own assessor, and pays by a little at a time, when it suits him to buy. besides, it is a tax which people may pay or let alone by not consuming the articles; and though the alternative may have no influence on their conduct, the power of choosing is an agreeable thing to the mind. for my own part, it would be a satisfaction to me was there a duty on all sorts of liquors during the war, as in my idea of things it would be an addition to the pleasures of society to know, that when the health of the army goes round, a few drops, from every glass becomes theirs. how often have i heard an emphatical wish, almost accompanied by a tear, "oh, that our poor fellows in the field had some of this!" why then need we suffer under a fruitless sympathy, when there is a way to enjoy both the wish and the entertainment at once. but the great national policy of putting a duty upon imports is, that it either keeps the foreign trade in our own hands, or draws something for the defence of the country from every foreigner who participates in it with us. thus much for the first half of the taxes, and as each state will best devise means to raise the other half, i shall confine my remarks to the resources of this state. the quota, then, of this state, of one million and sixty thousand pounds, will be one hundred and thirty-three thousand two hundred and fifty pounds, the half of which is sixty-six thousand six hundred and twenty-five pounds; and supposing one fourth part of pennsylvania inhabited, then a tax of one bushel of wheat on every twenty acres of land, one with another, would produce the sum, and all the present taxes to cease. whereas, the tithes of the bishops and clergy in england, exclusive of the taxes, are upwards of half a bushel of wheat on every single acre of land, good and bad, throughout the nation. in the former part of this paper, i mentioned the militia fines, but reserved speaking of the matter, which i shall now do. the ground i shall put it upon is, that two millions sterling a year will support a sufficient army, and all the expenses of war and government, without having recourse to the inconvenient method of continually calling men from their employments, which, of all others, is the most expensive and the least substantial. i consider the revenues created by taxes as the first and principal thing, and fines only as secondary and accidental things. it was not the intention of the militia law to apply the fines to anything else but the support of the militia, neither do they produce any revenue to the state, yet these fines amount to more than all the taxes: for taking the muster-roll to be sixty thousand men, the fine on forty thousand who may not attend, will be sixty thousand pounds sterling, and those who muster, will give up a portion of time equal to half that sum, and if the eight classes should be called within the year, and one third turn out, the fine on the remaining forty thousand would amount to seventy-two millions of dollars, besides the fifteen shillings on every hundred pounds of property, and the charge of seven and a half per cent. for collecting, in certain instances which, on the whole, would be upwards of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling. now if those very fines disable the country from raising a sufficient revenue without producing an equivalent advantage, would it not be for the ease and interest of all parties to increase the revenue, in the manner i have proposed, or any better, if a better can be devised, and cease the operation of the fines? i would still keep the militia as an organized body of men, and should there be a real necessity to call them forth, pay them out of the proper revenues of the state, and increase the taxes a third or fourth per cent. on those who do not attend. my limits will not allow me to go further into this matter, which i shall therefore close with this remark; that fines are, of all modes of revenue, the most unsuited to the minds of a free country. when a man pays a tax, he knows that the public necessity requires it, and therefore feels a pride in discharging his duty; but a fine seems an atonement for neglect of duty, and of consequence is paid with discredit, and frequently levied with severity. i have now only one subject more to speak of, with which i shall conclude, which is, the resolve of congress of the th of march last, for taking up and funding the present currency at forty for one, and issuing new money in its stead. every one knows that i am not the flatterer of congress, but in this instance they are right; and if that measure is supported, the currency will acquire a value, which, without it, it will not. but this is not all: it will give relief to the finances until such time as they can be properly arranged, and save the country from being immediately doubled taxed under the present mode. in short, support that measure, and it will support you. i have now waded through a tedious course of difficult business, and over an untrodden path. the subject, on every point in which it could be viewed, was entangled with perplexities, and enveloped in obscurity, yet such are the resources of america, that she wants nothing but system to secure success. common sense. philadelphia, oct. , . the crisis x. on the king of england's speech. of all the innocent passions which actuate the human mind there is none more universally prevalent than curiosity. it reaches all mankind, and in matters which concern us, or concern us not, it alike provokes in us a desire to know them. although the situation of america, superior to every effort to enslave her, and daily rising to importance and opulence, has placed her above the region of anxiety, it has still left her within the circle of curiosity; and her fancy to see the speech of a man who had proudly threatened to bring her to his feet, was visibly marked with that tranquil confidence which cared nothing about its contents. it was inquired after with a smile, read with a laugh, and dismissed with disdain. but, as justice is due, even to an enemy, it is right to say, that the speech is as well managed as the embarrassed condition of their affairs could well admit of; and though hardly a line of it is true, except the mournful story of cornwallis, it may serve to amuse the deluded commons and people of england, for whom it was calculated. "the war," says the speech, "is still unhappily prolonged by that restless ambition which first excited our enemies to commence it, and which still continues to disappoint my earnest wishes and diligent exertions to restore the public tranquillity." how easy it is to abuse truth and language, when men, by habitual wickedness, have learned to set justice at defiance. that the very man who began the war, who with the most sullen insolence refused to answer, and even to hear the humblest of all petitions, who has encouraged his officers and his army in the most savage cruelties, and the most scandalous plunderings, who has stirred up the indians on one side, and the negroes on the other, and invoked every aid of hell in his behalf, should now, with an affected air of pity, turn the tables from himself, and charge to another the wickedness that is his own, can only be equalled by the baseness of the heart that spoke it. to be nobly wrong is more manly than to be meanly right, is an expression i once used on a former occasion, and it is equally applicable now. we feel something like respect for consistency even in error. we lament the virtue that is debauched into a vice, but the vice that affects a virtue becomes the more detestable: and amongst the various assumptions of character, which hypocrisy has taught, and men have practised, there is none that raises a higher relish of disgust, than to see disappointed inveteracy twisting itself, by the most visible falsehoods, into an appearance of piety which it has no pretensions to. "but i should not," continues the speech, "answer the trust committed to the sovereign of a free people, nor make a suitable return to my subjects for their constant, zealous, and affectionate attachment to my person, family and government, if i consented to sacrifice, either to my own desire of peace, or to their temporary ease and relief, those essential rights and permanent interests, upon the maintenance and preservation of which, the future strength and security of this country must principally depend." that the man whose ignorance and obstinacy first involved and still continues the nation in the most hopeless and expensive of all wars, should now meanly flatter them with the name of a free people, and make a merit of his crime, under the disguise of their essential rights and permanent interests, is something which disgraces even the character of perverseness. is he afraid they will send him to hanover, or what does he fear? why is the sycophant thus added to the hypocrite, and the man who pretends to govern, sunk into the humble and submissive memorialist? what those essential rights and permanent interests are, on which the future strength and security of england must principally depend, are not so much as alluded to. they are words which impress nothing but the ear, and are calculated only for the sound. but if they have any reference to america, then do they amount to the disgraceful confession, that england, who once assumed to be her protectress, has now become her dependant. the british king and ministry are constantly holding up the vast importance which america is of to england, in order to allure the nation to carry on the war: now, whatever ground there is for this idea, it ought to have operated as a reason for not beginning it; and, therefore, they support their present measures to their own disgrace, because the arguments which they now use, are a direct reflection on their former policy. "the favorable appearance of affairs," continues the speech, "in the east indies, and the safe arrival of the numerous commercial fleets of my kingdom, must have given you satisfaction." that things are not quite so bad every where as in america may be some cause of consolation, but can be none for triumph. one broken leg is better than two, but still it is not a source of joy: and let the appearance of affairs in the east indies be ever so favorable, they are nevertheless worse than at first, without a prospect of their ever being better. but the mournful story of cornwallis was yet to be told, and it was necessary to give it the softest introduction possible. "but in the course of this year," continues the speech, "my assiduous endeavors to guard the extensive dominions of my crown have not been attended with success equal to the justice and uprightness of my views."--what justice and uprightness there was in beginning a war with america, the world will judge of, and the unequalled barbarity with which it has been conducted, is not to be worn from the memory by the cant of snivelling hypocrisy. "and it is with great concern that i inform you that the events of war have been very unfortunate to my arms in virginia, having ended in the loss of my forces in that province."--and our great concern is that they are not all served in the same manner. "no endeavors have been wanted on my part," says the speech, "to extinguish that spirit of rebellion which our enemies have found means to foment and maintain in the colonies; and to restore to my deluded subjects in america that happy and prosperous condition which they formerly derived from a due obedience to the laws." the expression of deluded subjects is become so hacknied and contemptible, and the more so when we see them making prisoners of whole armies at a time, that the pride of not being laughed at would induce a man of common sense to leave it off. but the most offensive falsehood in the paragraph is the attributing the prosperity of america to a wrong cause. it was the unremitted industry of the settlers and their descendants, the hard labor and toil of persevering fortitude, that were the true causes of the prosperity of america. the former tyranny of england served to people it, and the virtue of the adventurers to improve it. ask the man, who, with his axe, has cleared a way in the wilderness, and now possesses an estate, what made him rich, and he will tell you the labor of his hands, the sweat of his brow, and the blessing of heaven. let britain but leave america to herself and she asks no more. she has risen into greatness without the knowledge and against the will of england, and has a right to the unmolested enjoyment of her own created wealth. "i will order," says the speech, "the estimates of the ensuing year to be laid before you. i rely on your wisdom and public spirit for such supplies as the circumstances of our affairs shall be found to require. among the many ill consequences which attend the continuation of the present war, i most sincerely regret the additional burdens which it must unavoidably bring upon my faithful subjects." it is strange that a nation must run through such a labyrinth of trouble, and expend such a mass of wealth to gain the wisdom which an hour's reflection might have taught. the final superiority of america over every attempt that an island might make to conquer her, was as naturally marked in the constitution of things, as the future ability of a giant over a dwarf is delineated in his features while an infant. how far providence, to accomplish purposes which no human wisdom could foresee, permitted such extraordinary errors, is still a secret in the womb of time, and must remain so till futurity shall give it birth. "in the prosecution of this great and important contest," says the speech, "in which we are engaged, i retain a firm confidence in the protection of divine providence, and a perfect conviction in the justice of my cause, and i have no doubt, but, that by the concurrence and support of my parliament, by the valour of my fleets and armies, and by a vigorous, animated, and united exertion of the faculties and resources of my people, i shall be enabled to restore the blessings of a safe and honorable peace to all my dominions." the king of england is one of the readiest believers in the world. in the beginning of the contest he passed an act to put america out of the protection of the crown of england, and though providence, for seven years together, has put him out of her protection, still the man has no doubt. like pharaoh on the edge of the red sea, he sees not the plunge he is making, and precipitately drives across the flood that is closing over his head. i think it is a reasonable supposition, that this part of the speech was composed before the arrival of the news of the capture of cornwallis: for it certainly has no relation to their condition at the time it was spoken. but, be this as it may, it is nothing to us. our line is fixed. our lot is cast; and america, the child of fate, is arriving at maturity. we have nothing to do but by a spirited and quick exertion, to stand prepared for war or peace. too great to yield, and too noble to insult; superior to misfortune, and generous in success, let us untaintedly preserve the character which we have gained, and show to future ages an example of unequalled magnanimity. there is something in the cause and consequence of america that has drawn on her the attention of all mankind. the world has seen her brave. her love of liberty; her ardour in supporting it; the justice of her claims, and the constancy of her fortitude have won her the esteem of europe, and attached to her interest the first power in that country. her situation now is such, that to whatever point, past, present or to come, she casts her eyes, new matter rises to convince her that she is right. in her conduct towards her enemy, no reproachful sentiment lurks in secret. no sense of injustice is left upon the mind. untainted with ambition, and a stranger to revenge, her progress has been marked by providence, and she, in every stage of the conflict, has blest her with success. but let not america wrap herself up in delusive hope and suppose the business done. the least remissness in preparation, the least relaxation in execution, will only serve to prolong the war, and increase expenses. if our enemies can draw consolation from misfortune, and exert themselves upon despair, how much more ought we, who are to win a continent by the conquest, and have already an earnest of success? having, in the preceding part, made my remarks on the several matters which the speech contains, i shall now make my remarks on what it does not contain. there is not a syllable in its respecting alliances. either the injustice of britain is too glaring, or her condition too desperate, or both, for any neighboring power to come to her support. in the beginning of the contest, when she had only america to contend with, she hired assistance from hesse, and other smaller states of germany, and for nearly three years did america, young, raw, undisciplined and unprovided, stand against the power of britain, aided by twenty thousand foreign troops, and made a complete conquest of one entire army. the remembrance of those things ought to inspire us with confidence and greatness of mind, and carry us through every remaining difficulty with content and cheerfulness. what are the little sufferings of the present day, compared with the hardships that are past? there was a time, when we had neither house nor home in safety; when every hour was the hour of alarm and danger; when the mind, tortured with anxiety, knew no repose, and every thing, but hope and fortitude, was bidding us farewell. it is of use to look back upon these things; to call to mind the times of trouble and the scenes of complicated anguish that are past and gone. then every expense was cheap, compared with the dread of conquest and the misery of submission. we did not stand debating upon trifles, or contending about the necessary and unavoidable charges of defence. every one bore his lot of suffering, and looked forward to happier days, and scenes of rest. perhaps one of the greatest dangers which any country can be exposed to, arises from a kind of trifling which sometimes steals upon the mind, when it supposes the danger past; and this unsafe situation marks at this time the peculiar crisis of america. what would she once have given to have known that her condition at this day should be what it now is? and yet we do not seem to place a proper value upon it, nor vigorously pursue the necessary measures to secure it. we know that we cannot be defended, nor yet defend ourselves, without trouble and expense. we have no right to expect it; neither ought we to look for it. we are a people, who, in our situation, differ from all the world. we form one common floor of public good, and, whatever is our charge, it is paid for our own interest and upon our own account. misfortune and experience have now taught us system and method; and the arrangements for carrying on the war are reduced to rule and order. the quotas of the several states are ascertained, and i intend in a future publication to show what they are, and the necessity as well as the advantages of vigorously providing for them. in the mean time, i shall conclude this paper with an instance of british clemency, from smollett's history of england, vol. xi., printed in london. it will serve to show how dismal the situation of a conquered people is, and that the only security is an effectual defence. we all know that the stuart family and the house of hanover opposed each other for the crown of england. the stuart family stood first in the line of succession, but the other was the most successful. in july, , charles, the son of the exiled king, landed in scotland, collected a small force, at no time exceeding five or six thousand men, and made some attempts to re-establish his claim. the late duke of cumberland, uncle to the present king of england, was sent against him, and on the th of april following, charles was totally defeated at culloden, in scotland. success and power are the only situations in which clemency can be shown, and those who are cruel, because they are victorious, can with the same facility act any other degenerate character. "immediately after the decisive action at culloden, the duke of cumberland took possession of inverness; where six and thirty deserters, convicted by a court martial, were ordered to be executed: then he detached several parties to ravage the country. one of these apprehended the lady mackintosh, who was sent prisoner to inverness, plundered her house, and drove away her cattle, though her husband was actually in the service of the government. the castle of lord lovat was destroyed. the french prisoners were sent to carlisle and penrith: kilmarnock, balmerino, cromartie, and his son, the lord macleod, were conveyed by sea to london; and those of an inferior rank were confined in different prisons. the marquis of tullibardine, together with a brother of the earl of dunmore, and murray, the pretender's secretary, were seized and transported to the tower of london, to which the earl of traquaire had been committed on suspicion; and the eldest son of lord lovat was imprisoned in the castle of edinburgh. in a word, all the jails in great britain, from the capital, northwards, were filled with those unfortunate captives; and great numbers of them were crowded together in the holds of ships, where they perished in the most deplorable manner, for want of air and exercise. some rebel chiefs escaped in two french frigates that arrived on the coast of lochaber about the end of april, and engaged three vessels belonging to his britannic majesty, which they obliged to retire. others embarked on board a ship on the coast of buchan, and were conveyed to norway, from whence they travelled to sweden. in the month of may, the duke of cumberland advanced with the army into the highlands, as far as fort augustus, where he encamped; and sent off detachments on all hands, to hunt down the fugitives, and lay waste the country with fire and sword. the castles of glengary and lochiel were plundered and burned; every house, hut, or habitation, met with the same fate, without distinction; and all the cattle and provision were carried off; the men were either shot upon the mountains, like wild beasts, or put to death in cold blood, without form of trial; the women, after having seen their husbands and fathers murdered, were subjected to brutal violation, and then turned out naked, with their children, to starve on the barren heaths. one whole family was enclosed in a barn, and consumed to ashes. those ministers of vengeance were so alert in the execution of their office, that in a few days there was neither house, cottage, man, nor beast, to be seen within the compass of fifty miles; all was ruin, silence, and desolation." i have here presented the reader with one of the most shocking instances of cruelty ever practised, and i leave it, to rest on his mind, that he may be fully impressed with a sense of the destruction he has escaped, in case britain had conquered america; and likewise, that he may see and feel the necessity, as well for his own personal safety, as for the honor, the interest, and happiness of the whole community, to omit or delay no one preparation necessary to secure the ground which we so happily stand upon. to the people of america on the expenses, arrangements and disbursements for carrying on the war, and finishing it with honor and advantage when any necessity or occasion has pointed out the convenience of addressing the public, i have never made it a consideration whether the subject was popular or unpopular, but whether it was right or wrong; for that which is right will become popular, and that which is wrong, though by mistake it may obtain the cry or fashion of the day, will soon lose the power of delusion, and sink into disesteem. a remarkable instance of this happened in the case of silas deane; and i mention this circumstance with the greater ease, because the poison of his hypocrisy spread over the whole country, and every man, almost without exception, thought me wrong in opposing him. the best friends i then had, except mr. [henry] laurens, stood at a distance, and this tribute, which is due to his constancy, i pay to him with respect, and that the readier, because he is not here to hear it. if it reaches him in his imprisonment, it will afford him an agreeable reflection. "as he rose like a rocket, he would fall like a stick," is a metaphor which i applied to mr. deane, in the first piece which i published respecting him, and he has exactly fulfilled the description. the credit he so unjustly obtained from the public, he lost in almost as short a time. the delusion perished as it fell, and he soon saw himself stripped of popular support. his more intimate acquaintances began to doubt, and to desert him long before he left america, and at his departure, he saw himself the object of general suspicion. when he arrived in france, he endeavored to effect by treason what he had failed to accomplish by fraud. his plans, schemes and projects, together with his expectation of being sent to holland to negotiate a loan of money, had all miscarried. he then began traducing and accusing america of every crime, which could injure her reputation. "that she was a ruined country; that she only meant to make a tool of france, to get what money she could out of her, and then to leave her and accommodate with britain." of all which and much more, colonel laurens and myself, when in france, informed dr. franklin, who had not before heard of it. and to complete the character of traitor, he has, by letters to his country since, some of which, in his own handwriting, are now in the possession of congress, used every expression and argument in his power, to injure the reputation of france, and to advise america to renounce her alliance, and surrender up her independence.* thus in france he abuses america, and in his letters to america he abuses france; and is endeavoring to create disunion between two countries, by the same arts of double-dealing by which he caused dissensions among the commissioners in paris, and distractions in america. but his life has been fraud, and his character has been that of a plodding, plotting, cringing mercenary, capable of any disguise that suited his purpose. his final detection has very happily cleared up those mistakes, and removed that uneasiness, which his unprincipled conduct occasioned. every one now sees him in the same light; for towards friends or enemies he acted with the same deception and injustice, and his name, like that of arnold, ought now to be forgotten among us. as this is the first time that i have mentioned him since my return from france, it is my intention that it shall be the last. from this digression, which for several reasons i thought necessary to give, i now proceed to the purport of my address. * mr. william marshall, of this city [philadelphia], formerly a pilot, who had been taken at sea and carried to england, and got from thence to france, brought over letters from mr. deane to america, one of which was directed to "robert morris, esq." mr. morris sent it unopened to congress, and advised mr. marshall to deliver the others there, which he did. the letters were of the same purport with those which have been already published under the signature of s. deane, to which they had frequent reference. i consider the war of america against britain as the country's war, the public's war, or the war of the people in their own behalf, for the security of their natural rights, and the protection of their own property. it is not the war of congress, the war of the assemblies, or the war of government in any line whatever. the country first, by mutual compact, resolved to defend their rights and maintain their independence, at the hazard of their lives and fortunes; they elected their representatives, by whom they appointed their members of congress, and said, act you for us, and we will support you. this is the true ground and principle of the war on the part of america, and, consequently, there remains nothing to do, but for every one to fulfil his obligation. it was next to impossible that a new country, engaged in a new undertaking, could set off systematically right at first. she saw not the extent of the struggle that she was involved in, neither could she avoid the beginning. she supposed every step that she took, and every resolution which she formed, would bring her enemy to reason and close the contest. those failing, she was forced into new measures; and these, like the former, being fitted to her expectations, and failing in their turn, left her continually unprovided, and without system. the enemy, likewise, was induced to prosecute the war, from the temporary expedients we adopted for carrying it on. we were continually expecting to see their credit exhausted, and they were looking to see our currency fail; and thus, between their watching us, and we them, the hopes of both have been deceived, and the childishness of the expectation has served to increase the expense. yet who, through this wilderness of error, has been to blame? where is the man who can say the fault, in part, has not been his? they were the natural, unavoidable errors of the day. they were the errors of a whole country, which nothing but experience could detect and time remove. neither could the circumstances of america admit of system, till either the paper currency was fixed or laid aside. no calculation of a finance could be made on a medium failing without reason, and fluctuating without rule. but there is one error which might have been prevented and was not; and as it is not my custom to flatter, but to serve mankind, i will speak it freely. it certainly was the duty of every assembly on the continent to have known, at all times, what was the condition of its treasury, and to have ascertained at every period of depreciation, how much the real worth of the taxes fell short of their nominal value. this knowledge, which might have been easily gained, in the time of it, would have enabled them to have kept their constituents well informed, and this is one of the greatest duties of representation. they ought to have studied and calculated the expenses of the war, the quota of each state, and the consequent proportion that would fall on each man's property for his defence; and this must have easily shown to them, that a tax of one hundred pounds could not be paid by a bushel of apples or an hundred of flour, which was often the case two or three years ago. but instead of this, which would have been plain and upright dealing, the little line of temporary popularity, the feather of an hour's duration, was too much pursued; and in this involved condition of things, every state, for the want of a little thinking, or a little information, supposed that it supported the whole expenses of the war, when in fact it fell, by the time the tax was levied and collected, above three-fourths short of its own quota. impressed with a sense of the danger to which the country was exposed by this lax method of doing business, and the prevailing errors of the day, i published, last october was a twelvemonth, the crisis extraordinary, on the revenues of america, and the yearly expense of carrying on the war. my estimation of the latter, together with the civil list of congress, and the civil list of the several states, was two million pounds sterling, which is very nearly nine millions of dollars. since that time, congress have gone into a calculation, and have estimated the expenses of the war department and the civil list of congress (exclusive of the civil list of the several governments) at eight millions of dollars; and as the remaining million will be fully sufficient for the civil list of the several states, the two calculations are exceedingly near each other. the sum of eight millions of dollars have called upon the states to furnish, and their quotas are as follows, which i shall preface with the resolution itself. "by the united states in congress assembled. "october , . "resolved, that the respective states be called upon to furnish the treasury of the united states with their quotas of eight millions of dollars, for the war department and civil list for the ensuing year, to be paid quarterly, in equal proportions, the first payment to be made on the first day of april next. "resolved, that a committee, consisting of a member from each state, be appointed to apportion to the several states the quota of the above sum. "november d. the committee appointed to ascertain the proportions of the several states of the monies to be raised for the expenses of the ensuing year, report the following resolutions: "that the sum of eight millions of dollars, as required to be raised by the resolutions of the th of october last, be paid by the states in the following proportion: new hampshire....... $ , massachusetts....... , , rhode island........ , connecticut......... , new york............ , new jersey.......... , pennsylvania........ , , delaware............ , maryland............ , virginia............ , , north carolina...... , south carolina...... , georgia............. , $ , , "resolved, that it be recommended to the several states, to lay taxes for raising their quotas of money for the united states, separate from those laid for their own particular use." on these resolutions i shall offer several remarks. st, on the sum itself, and the ability of the country. d, on the several quotas, and the nature of a union. and, d, on the manner of collection and expenditure. st, on the sum itself, and the ability of the country. as i know my own calculation is as low as possible, and as the sum called for by congress, according to their calculation, agrees very nearly therewith, i am sensible it cannot possibly be lower. neither can it be done for that, unless there is ready money to go to market with; and even in that case, it is only by the utmost management and economy that it can be made to do. by the accounts which were laid before the british parliament last spring, it appeared that the charge of only subsisting, that is, feeding their army in america, cost annually four million pounds sterling, which is very nearly eighteen millions of dollars. now if, for eight millions, we can feed, clothe, arm, provide for, and pay an army sufficient for our defence, the very comparison shows that the money must be well laid out. it may be of some use, either in debate or conversation, to attend to the progress of the expenses of an army, because it will enable us to see on what part any deficiency will fall. the first thing is, to feed them and prepare for the sick. _second_, to clothe them. _third_, to arm and furnish them. _fourth_, to provide means for removing them from place to place. and, _fifth_, to pay them. the first and second are absolutely necessary to them as men. the third and fourth are equally as necessary to them as an army. and the fifth is their just due. now if the sum which shall be raised should fall short, either by the several acts of the states for raising it, or by the manner of collecting it, the deficiency will fall on the fifth head, the soldiers' pay, which would be defrauding them, and eternally disgracing ourselves. it would be a blot on the councils, the country, and the revolution of america, and a man would hereafter be ashamed to own that he had any hand in it. but if the deficiency should be still shorter, it would next fall on the fourth head, the means of removing the army from place to place; and, in this case, the army must either stand still where it can be of no use, or seize on horses, carts, wagons, or any means of transportation which it can lay hold of; and in this instance the country suffers. in short, every attempt to do a thing for less than it can he done for, is sure to become at last both a loss and a dishonor. but the country cannot bear it, say some. this has been the most expensive doctrine that ever was held out, and cost america millions of money for nothing. can the country bear to be overrun, ravaged, and ruined by an enemy? this will immediately follow where defence is wanting, and defence will ever be wanting, where sufficient revenues are not provided. but this is only one part of the folly. the second is, that when the danger comes, invited in part by our not preparing against it, we have been obliged, in a number of instances, to expend double the sums to do that which at first might have been done for half the money. but this is not all. a third mischief has been, that grain of all sorts, flour, beef fodder, horses, carts, wagons, or whatever was absolutely or immediately wanted, have been taken without pay. now, i ask, why was all this done, but from that extremely weak and expensive doctrine, that the country could not bear it? that is, that she could not bear, in the first instance, that which would have saved her twice as much at last; or, in proverbial language, that she could not bear to pay a penny to save a pound; the consequence of which has been, that she has paid a pound for a penny. why are there so many unpaid certificates in almost every man's hands, but from the parsimony of not providing sufficient revenues? besides, the doctrine contradicts itself; because, if the whole country cannot bear it, how is it possible that a part should? and yet this has been the case: for those things have been had; and they must be had; but the misfortune is, that they have been obtained in a very unequal manner, and upon expensive credit, whereas, with ready money, they might have been purchased for half the price, and nobody distressed. but there is another thought which ought to strike us, which is, how is the army to bear the want of food, clothing and other necessaries? the man who is at home, can turn himself a thousand ways, and find as many means of ease, convenience or relief: but a soldier's life admits of none of those: their wants cannot be supplied from themselves: for an army, though it is the defence of a state, is at the same time the child of a country, or must be provided for in every thing. and lastly, the doctrine is false. there are not three millions of people in any part of the universe, who live so well, or have such a fund of ability, as in america. the income of a common laborer, who is industrious, is equal to that of the generality of tradesmen in england. in the mercantile line, i have not heard of one who could be said to be a bankrupt since the war began, and in england they have been without number. in america almost every farmer lives on his own lands, and in england not one in a hundred does. in short, it seems as if the poverty of that country had made them furious, and they were determined to risk all to recover all. yet, notwithstanding those advantages on the part of america, true it is, that had it not been for the operation of taxes for our necessary defence, we had sunk into a state of sloth and poverty: for there was more wealth lost by neglecting to till the earth in the years , ' , and ' , than the quota of taxes amounts to. that which is lost by neglect of this kind, is lost for ever: whereas that which is paid, and continues in the country, returns to us again; and at the same time that it provides us with defence, it operates not only as a spur, but as a premium to our industry. i shall now proceed to the second head, viz., on the several quotas, and the nature of a union. there was a time when america had no other bond of union, than that of common interest and affection. the whole country flew to the relief of boston, and, making her cause, their own, participated in her cares and administered to her wants. the fate of war, since that day, has carried the calamity in a ten-fold proportion to the southward; but in the mean time the union has been strengthened by a legal compact of the states, jointly and severally ratified, and that which before was choice, or the duty of affection, is now likewise the duty of legal obligation. the union of america is the foundation-stone of her independence; the rock on which it is built; and is something so sacred in her constitution, that we ought to watch every word we speak, and every thought we think, that we injure it not, even by mistake. when a multitude, extended, or rather scattered, over a continent in the manner we were, mutually agree to form one common centre whereon the whole shall move to accomplish a particular purpose, all parts must act together and alike, or act not at all, and a stoppage in any one is a stoppage of the whole, at least for a time. thus the several states have sent representatives to assemble together in congress, and they have empowered that body, which thus becomes their centre, and are no other than themselves in representation, to conduct and manage the war, while their constituents at home attend to the domestic cares of the country, their internal legislation, their farms, professions or employments, for it is only by reducing complicated things to method and orderly connection that they can be understood with advantage, or pursued with success. congress, by virtue of this delegation, estimates the expense, and apportions it out to the several parts of the empire according to their several abilities; and here the debate must end, because each state has already had its voice, and the matter has undergone its whole portion of argument, and can no more be altered by any particular state, than a law of any state, after it has passed, can be altered by any individual. for with respect to those things which immediately concern the union, and for which the union was purposely established, and is intended to secure, each state is to the united states what each individual is to the state he lives in. and it is on this grand point, this movement upon one centre, that our existence as a nation, our happiness as a people, and our safety as individuals, depend. it may happen that some state or other may be somewhat over or under rated, but this cannot be much. the experience which has been had upon the matter, has nearly ascertained their several abilities. but even in this case, it can only admit of an appeal to the united states, but cannot authorise any state to make the alteration itself, any more than our internal government can admit an individual to do so in the case of an act of assembly; for if one state can do it, then may another do the same, and the instant this is done the whole is undone. neither is it supposable that any single state can be a judge of all the comparative reasons which may influence the collective body in arranging the quotas of the continent. the circumstances of the several states are frequently varying, occasioned by the accidents of war and commerce, and it will often fall upon some to help others, rather beyond what their exact proportion at another time might be; but even this assistance is as naturally and politically included in the idea of a union as that of any particular assigned proportion; because we know not whose turn it may be next to want assistance, for which reason that state is the wisest which sets the best example. though in matters of bounden duty and reciprocal affection, it is rather a degeneracy from the honesty and ardor of the heart to admit any thing selfish to partake in the government of our conduct, yet in cases where our duty, our affections, and our interest all coincide, it may be of some use to observe their union. the united states will become heir to an extensive quantity of vacant land, and their several titles to shares and quotas thereof, will naturally be adjusted according to their relative quotas, during the war, exclusive of that inability which may unfortunately arise to any state by the enemy's holding possession of a part; but as this is a cold matter of interest, i pass it by, and proceed to my third head, viz., on the manner of collection and expenditure. it has been our error, as well as our misfortune, to blend the affairs of each state, especially in money matters, with those of the united states; whereas it is our case, convenience and interest, to keep them separate. the expenses of the united states for carrying on the war, and the expenses of each state for its own domestic government, are distinct things, and to involve them is a source of perplexity and a cloak for fraud. i love method, because i see and am convinced of its beauty and advantage. it is that which makes all business easy and understood, and without which, everything becomes embarrassed and difficult. there are certain powers which the people of each state have delegated to their legislative and executive bodies, and there are other powers which the people of every state have delegated to congress, among which is that of conducting the war, and, consequently, of managing the expenses attending it; for how else can that be managed, which concerns every state, but by a delegation from each? when a state has furnished its quota, it has an undoubted right to know how it has been applied, and it is as much the duty of congress to inform the state of the one, as it is the duty of the state to provide the other. in the resolution of congress already recited, it is recommended to the several states to lay taxes for raising their quotas of money for the united states, separate from those laid for their own particular use. this is a most necessary point to be observed, and the distinction should follow all the way through. they should be levied, paid and collected, separately, and kept separate in every instance. neither have the civil officers of any state, nor the government of that state, the least right to touch that money which the people pay for the support of their army and the war, any more than congress has to touch that which each state raises for its own use. this distinction will naturally be followed by another. it will occasion every state to examine nicely into the expenses of its civil list, and to regulate, reduce, and bring it into better order than it has hitherto been; because the money for that purpose must be raised apart, and accounted for to the public separately. but while the, monies of both were blended, the necessary nicety was not observed, and the poor soldier, who ought to have been the first, was the last who was thought of. another convenience will be, that the people, by paying the taxes separately, will know what they are for; and will likewise know that those which are for the defence of the country will cease with the war, or soon after. for although, as i have before observed, the war is their own, and for the support of their own rights and the protection of their own property, yet they have the same right to know, that they have to pay, and it is the want of not knowing that is often the cause of dissatisfaction. this regulation of keeping the taxes separate has given rise to a regulation in the office of finance, by which it is directed: "that the receivers shall, at the end of every month, make out an exact account of the monies received by them respectively, during such month, specifying therein the names of the persons from whom the same shall have been received, the dates and the sums; which account they shall respectively cause to be published in one of the newspapers of the state; to the end that every citizen may know how much of the monies collected from him, in taxes, is transmitted to the treasury of the united states for the support of the war; and also, that it may be known what monies have been at the order of the superintendent of finance. it being proper and necessary, that, in a free country, the people should be as fully informed of the administration of their affairs as the nature of things will admit." it is an agreeable thing to see a spirit of order and economy taking place, after such a series of errors and difficulties. a government or an administration, who means and acts honestly, has nothing to fear, and consequently has nothing to conceal; and it would be of use if a monthly or quarterly account was to be published, as well of the expenditures as of the receipts. eight millions of dollars must be husbanded with an exceeding deal of care to make it do, and, therefore, as the management must be reputable, the publication would be serviceable. i have heard of petitions which have been presented to the assembly of this state (and probably the same may have happened in other states) praying to have the taxes lowered. now the only way to keep taxes low is, for the united states to have ready money to go to market with: and though the taxes to be raised for the present year will fall heavy, and there will naturally be some difficulty in paying them, yet the difficulty, in proportion as money spreads about the country, will every day grow less, and in the end we shall save some millions of dollars by it. we see what a bitter, revengeful enemy we have to deal with, and any expense is cheap compared to their merciless paw. we have seen the unfortunate carolineans hunted like partridges on the mountains, and it is only by providing means for our defence, that we shall be kept from the same condition. when we think or talk about taxes, we ought to recollect that we lie down in peace and sleep in safety; that we can follow our farms or stores or other occupations, in prosperous tranquillity; and that these inestimable blessings are procured to us by the taxes that we pay. in this view, our taxes are properly our insurance money; they are what we pay to be made safe, and, in strict policy, are the best money we can lay out. it was my intention to offer some remarks on the impost law of five per cent. recommended by congress, and to be established as a fund for the payment of the loan-office certificates, and other debts of the united states; but i have already extended my piece beyond my intention. and as this fund will make our system of finance complete, and is strictly just, and consequently requires nothing but honesty to do it, there needs but little to be said upon it. common sense. philadelphia, march , . the crisis. xi. on the present state of news. since the arrival of two, if not three packets in quick succession, at new york, from england, a variety of unconnected news has circulated through the country, and afforded as great a variety of speculation. that something is the matter in the cabinet and councils of our enemies, on the other side of the water, is certain--that they have run their length of madness, and are under the necessity of changing their measures may easily be seen into; but to what this change of measures may amount, or how far it may correspond with our interest, happiness and duty, is yet uncertain; and from what we have hitherto experienced, we have too much reason to suspect them in every thing. i do not address this publication so much to the people of america as to the british ministry, whoever they may be, for if it is their intention to promote any kind of negotiation, it is proper they should know beforehand, that the united states have as much honor as bravery; and that they are no more to be seduced from their alliance than their allegiance; that their line of politics is formed and not dependent, like that of their enemy, on chance and accident. on our part, in order to know, at any time, what the british government will do, we have only to find out what they ought not to do, and this last will be their conduct. forever changing and forever wrong; too distant from america to improve in circumstances, and too unwise to foresee them; scheming without principle, and executing without probability, their whole line of management has hitherto been blunder and baseness. every campaign has added to their loss, and every year to their disgrace; till unable to go on, and ashamed to go back, their politics have come to a halt, and all their fine prospects to a halter. could our affections forgive, or humanity forget the wounds of an injured country--we might, under the influence of a momentary oblivion, stand still and laugh. but they are engraven where no amusement can conceal them, and of a kind for which there is no recompense. can ye restore to us the beloved dead? can ye say to the grave, give up the murdered? can ye obliterate from our memories those who are no more? think not then to tamper with our feelings by an insidious contrivance, nor suffocate our humanity by seducing us to dishonor. in march , i published part of the crisis, no. viii., in the newspapers, but did not conclude it in the following papers, and the remainder has lain by me till the present day. there appeared about that time some disposition in the british cabinet to cease the further prosecution of the war, and as i had formed my opinion that whenever such a design should take place, it would be accompanied by a dishonorable proposition to america, respecting france, i had suppressed the remainder of that number, not to expose the baseness of any such proposition. but the arrival of the next news from england, declared her determination to go on with the war, and consequently as the political object i had then in view was not become a subject, it was unnecessary in me to bring it forward, which is the reason it was never published. the matter which i allude to in the unpublished part, i shall now make a quotation of, and apply it as the more enlarged state of things, at this day, shall make convenient or necessary. it was as follows: "by the speeches which have appeared from the british parliament, it is easy to perceive to what impolitic and imprudent excesses their passions and prejudices have, in every instance, carried them during the present war. provoked at the upright and honorable treaty between america and france, they imagined that nothing more was necessary to be done to prevent its final ratification, than to promise, through the agency of their commissioners (carlisle, eden, and johnstone) a repeal of their once offensive acts of parliament. the vanity of the conceit, was as unpardonable as the experiment was impolitic. and so convinced am i of their wrong ideas of america, that i shall not wonder, if, in their last stage of political frenzy, they propose to her to break her alliance with france, and enter into one with them. such a proposition, should it ever be made, and it has been already more than once hinted at in parliament, would discover such a disposition to perfidiousness, and such disregard of honor and morals, as would add the finishing vice to national corruption.--i do not mention this to put america on the watch, but to put england on her guard, that she do not, in the looseness of her heart, envelop in disgrace every fragment of reputation."--thus far the quotation. by the complection of some part of the news which has transpired through the new york papers, it seems probable that this insidious era in the british politics is beginning to make its appearance. i wish it may not; for that which is a disgrace to human nature, throws something of a shade over all the human character, and each individual feels his share of the wound that is given to the whole. the policy of britain has ever been to divide america in some way or other. in the beginning of the dispute, she practised every art to prevent or destroy the union of the states, well knowing that could she once get them to stand singly, she could conquer them unconditionally. failing in this project in america, she renewed it in europe; and, after the alliance had taken place, she made secret offers to france to induce her to give up america; and what is still more extraordinary, she at the same time made propositions to dr. franklin, then in paris, the very court to which she was secretly applying, to draw off america from france. but this is not all. on the th of september, , the british court, through their secretary, lord weymouth, made application to the marquis d'almadovar, the spanish ambassador at london, to "ask the mediation," for these were the words, of the court of spain, for the purpose of negotiating a peace with france, leaving america (as i shall hereafter show) out of the question. spain readily offered her mediation, and likewise the city of madrid as the place of conference, but withal, proposed, that the united states of america should be invited to the treaty, and considered as independent during the time the business was negotiating. but this was not the view of england. she wanted to draw france from the war, that she might uninterruptedly pour out all her force and fury upon america; and being disappointed in this plan, as well through the open and generous conduct of spain, as the determination of france, she refused the mediation which she had solicited. i shall now give some extracts from the justifying memorial of the spanish court, in which she has set the conduct and character of britain, with respect to america, in a clear and striking point of light. the memorial, speaking of the refusal of the british court to meet in conference with commissioners from the united states, who were to be considered as independent during the time of the conference, says, "it is a thing very extraordinary and even ridiculous, that the court of london, who treats the colonies as independent, not only in acting, but of right, during the war, should have a repugnance to treat them as such only in acting during a truce, or suspension of hostilities. the convention of saratoga; the reputing general burgoyne as a lawful prisoner, in order to suspend his trial; the exchange and liberation of other prisoners made from the colonies; the having named commissioners to go and supplicate the americans, at their own doors, request peace of them, and treat with them and the congress: and, finally, by a thousand other acts of this sort, authorized by the court of london, which have been, and are true signs of the acknowledgment of their independence. "in aggravation of all the foregoing, at the same time the british cabinet answered the king of spain in the terms already mentioned, they were insinuating themselves at the court of france by means of secret emissaries, and making very great offers to her, to abandon the colonies and make peace with england. but there is yet more; for at this same time the english ministry were treating, by means of another certain emissary, with dr. franklin, minister plenipotentiary from the colonies, residing at paris, to whom they made various proposals to disunite them from france, and accommodate matters with england. "from what has been observed, it evidently follows, that the whole of the british politics was, to disunite the two courts of paris and madrid, by means of the suggestions and offers which she separately made to them; and also to separate the colonies from their treaties and engagements entered into with france, and induce them to arm against the house of bourbon, or more probably to oppress them when they found, from breaking their engagements, that they stood alone and without protection. "this, therefore, is the net they laid for the american states; that is to say, to tempt them with flattering and very magnificent promises to come to an accommodation with them, exclusive of any intervention of spain or france, that the british ministry might always remain the arbiters of the fate of the colonies. but the catholic king (the king of spain) faithful on the one part of the engagements which bind him to the most christian king (the king of france) his nephew; just and upright on the other, to his own subjects, whom he ought to protect and guard against so many insults; and finally, full of humanity and compassion for the americans and other individuals who suffer in the present war; he is determined to pursue and prosecute it, and to make all the efforts in his power, until he can obtain a solid and permanent peace, with full and satisfactory securities that it shall be observed." thus far the memorial; a translation of which into english, may be seen in full, under the head of state papers, in the annual register, for . the extracts i have here given, serve to show the various endeavors and contrivances of the enemy, to draw france from her connection with america, and to prevail on her to make a separate peace with england, leaving america totally out of the question, and at the mercy of a merciless, unprincipled enemy. the opinion, likewise, which spain has formed of the british cabinet's character for meanness and perfidiousness, is so exactly the opinion of america respecting it, that the memorial, in this instance, contains our own statements and language; for people, however remote, who think alike, will unavoidably speak alike. thus we see the insidious use which britain endeavored to make of the propositions of peace under the mediation of spain. i shall now proceed to the second proposition under the mediation of the emperor of germany and the empress of russia; the general outline of which was, that a congress of the several powers at war should meet at vienna, in , to settle preliminaries of peace. i could wish myself at liberty to make use of all the information which i am possessed of on this subject, but as there is a delicacy in the matter, i do not conceive it prudent, at least at present, to make references and quotations in the same manner as i have done with respect to the mediation of spain, who published the whole proceedings herself; and therefore, what comes from me, on this part of the business, must rest on my own credit with the public, assuring them, that when the whole proceedings, relative to the proposed congress of vienna shall appear, they will find my account not only true, but studiously moderate. we know at the time this mediation was on the carpet, the expectation of the british king and ministry ran high with respect to the conquest of america. the english packet which was taken with the mail on board, and carried into l'orient, in france, contained letters from lord g. germaine to sir henry clinton, which expressed in the fullest terms the ministerial idea of a total conquest. copies of those letters were sent to congress and published in the newspapers of last year. colonel [john] laurens brought over the originals, some of which, signed in the handwriting of the then secretary, germaine, are now in my possession. filled with these high ideas, nothing could be more insolent towards america than the language of the british court on the proposed mediation. a peace with france and spain she anxiously solicited; but america, as before, was to be left to her mercy, neither would she hear any proposition for admitting an agent from the united states into the congress of vienna. on the other hand, france, with an open, noble and manly determination, and a fidelity of a good ally, would hear no proposition for a separate peace, nor even meet in congress at vienna, without an agent from america: and likewise that the independent character of the united states, represented by the agent, should be fully and unequivocally defined and settled before any conference should be entered on. the reasoning of the court of france on the several propositions of the two imperial courts, which relate to us, is rather in the style of an american than an ally, and she advocated the cause of america as if she had been america herself.--thus the second mediation, like the first, proved ineffectual. but since that time, a reverse of fortune has overtaken the british arms, and all their high expectations are dashed to the ground. the noble exertions to the southward under general [nathaniel] greene; the successful operations of the allied arms in the chesapeake; the loss of most of their islands in the west indies, and minorca in the mediterranean; the persevering spirit of spain against gibraltar; the expected capture of jamaica; the failure of making a separate peace with holland, and the expense of an hundred millions sterling, by which all these fine losses were obtained, have read them a loud lesson of disgraceful misfortune and necessity has called on them to change their ground. in this situation of confusion and despair, their present councils have no fixed character. it is now the hurricane months of british politics. every day seems to have a storm of its own, and they are scudding under the bare poles of hope. beaten, but not humble; condemned, but not penitent; they act like men trembling at fate and catching at a straw. from this convulsion, in the entrails of their politics, it is more than probable, that the mountain groaning in labor, will bring forth a mouse, as to its size, and a monster in its make. they will try on america the same insidious arts they tried on france and spain. we sometimes experience sensations to which language is not equal. the conception is too bulky to be born alive, and in the torture of thinking, we stand dumb. our feelings, imprisoned by their magnitude, find no way out--and, in the struggle of expression, every finger tries to be a tongue. the machinery of the body seems too little for the mind, and we look about for helps to show our thoughts by. such must be the sensation of america, whenever britain, teeming with corruption, shall propose to her to sacrifice her faith. but, exclusive of the wickedness, there is a personal offence contained in every such attempt. it is calling us villains: for no man asks the other to act the villain unless he believes him inclined to be one. no man attempts to seduce the truly honest woman. it is the supposed looseness of her mind that starts the thoughts of seduction, and he who offers it calls her a prostitute. our pride is always hurt by the same propositions which offend our principles; for when we are shocked at the crime, we are wounded by the suspicion of our compliance. could i convey a thought that might serve to regulate the public mind, i would not make the interest of the alliance the basis of defending it. all the world are moved by interest, and it affords them nothing to boast of. but i would go a step higher, and defend it on the ground of honor and principle. that our public affairs have flourished under the alliance--that it was wisely made, and has been nobly executed--that by its assistance we are enabled to preserve our country from conquest, and expel those who sought our destruction--that it is our true interest to maintain it unimpaired, and that while we do so no enemy can conquer us, are matters which experience has taught us, and the common good of ourselves, abstracted from principles of faith and honor, would lead us to maintain the connection. but over and above the mere letter of the alliance, we have been nobly and generously treated, and have had the same respect and attention paid to us, as if we had been an old established country. to oblige and be obliged is fair work among mankind, and we want an opportunity of showing to the world that we are a people sensible of kindness and worthy of confidence. character is to us, in our present circumstances, of more importance than interest. we are a young nation, just stepping upon the stage of public life, and the eye of the world is upon us to see how we act. we have an enemy who is watching to destroy our reputation, and who will go any length to gain some evidence against us, that may serve to render our conduct suspected, and our character odious; because, could she accomplish this, wicked as it is, the world would withdraw from us, as from a people not to be trusted, and our task would then become difficult. there is nothing which sets the character of a nation in a higher or lower light with others, than the faithfully fulfilling, or perfidiously breaking, of treaties. they are things not to be tampered with: and should britain, which seems very probable, propose to seduce america into such an act of baseness, it would merit from her some mark of unusual detestation. it is one of those extraordinary instances in which we ought not to be contented with the bare negative of congress, because it is an affront on the multitude as well as on the government. it goes on the supposition that the public are not honest men, and that they may be managed by contrivance, though they cannot be conquered by arms. but, let the world and britain know, that we are neither to be bought nor sold; that our mind is great and fixed; our prospect clear; and that we will support our character as firmly as our independence. but i will go still further; general conway, who made the motion, in the british parliament, for discontinuing offensive war in america, is a gentleman of an amiable character. we have no personal quarrel with him. but he feels not as we feel; he is not in our situation, and that alone, without any other explanation, is enough. the british parliament suppose they have many friends in america, and that, when all chance of conquest is over, they will be able to draw her from her alliance with france. now, if i have any conception of the human heart, they will fail in this more than in any thing that they have yet tried. this part of the business is not a question of policy only, but of honor and honesty; and the proposition will have in it something so visibly low and base, that their partisans, if they have any, will be ashamed of it. men are often hurt by a mean action who are not startled at a wicked one, and this will be such a confession of inability, such a declaration of servile thinking, that the scandal of it will ruin all their hopes. in short, we have nothing to do but to go on with vigor and determination. the enemy is yet in our country. they hold new york, charleston, and savannah, and the very being in those places is an offence, and a part of offensive war, and until they can be driven from them, or captured in them, it would be folly in us to listen to an idle tale. i take it for granted that the british ministry are sinking under the impossibility of carrying on the war. let them then come to a fair and open peace with france, spain, holland and america, in the manner they ought to do; but until then, we can have nothing to say to them. common sense. philadelphia, may , . a supernumerary crisis to sir guy carleton. it is the nature of compassion to associate with misfortune; and i address this to you in behalf even of an enemy, a captain in the british service, now on his way to the headquarters of the american army, and unfortunately doomed to death for a crime not his own. a sentence so extraordinary, an execution so repugnant to every human sensation, ought never to be told without the circumstances which produced it: and as the destined victim is yet in existence, and in your hands rests his life or death, i shall briefly state the case, and the melancholy consequence. captain huddy, of the jersey militia, was attacked in a small fort on tom's river, by a party of refugees in the british pay and service, was made prisoner, together with his company, carried to new york and lodged in the provost of that city: about three weeks after which, he was taken out of the provost down to the water-side, put into a boat, and brought again upon the jersey shore, and there, contrary to the practice of all nations but savages, was hung up on a tree, and left hanging till found by our people who took him down and buried him. the inhabitants of that part of the country where the murder was committed, sent a deputation to general washington with a full and certified statement of the fact. struck, as every human breast must be, with such brutish outrage, and determined both to punish and prevent it for the future, the general represented the case to general clinton, who then commanded, and demanded that the refugee officer who ordered and attended the execution, and whose name is lippencott, should be delivered up as a murderer; and in case of refusal, that the person of some british officer should suffer in his stead. the demand, though not refused, has not been complied with; and the melancholy lot (not by selection, but by casting lots) has fallen upon captain asgill, of the guards, who, as i have already mentioned, is on his way from lancaster to camp, a martyr to the general wickedness of the cause he engaged in, and the ingratitude of those whom he served. the first reflection which arises on this black business is, what sort of men must englishmen be, and what sort of order and discipline do they preserve in their army, when in the immediate place of their headquarters, and under the eye and nose of their commander-in-chief, a prisoner can be taken at pleasure from his confinement, and his death made a matter of sport. the history of the most savage indians does not produce instances exactly of this kind. they, at least, have a formality in their punishments. with them it is the horridness of revenge, but with your army it is a still greater crime, the horridness of diversion. the british generals who have succeeded each other, from the time of general gage to yourself, have all affected to speak in language that they have no right to. in their proclamations, their addresses, their letters to general washington, and their supplications to congress (for they deserve no other name) they talk of british honor, british generosity, and british clemency, as if those things were matters of fact; whereas, we whose eyes are open, who speak the same language with yourselves, many of whom were born on the same spot with you, and who can no more be mistaken in your words than in your actions, can declare to all the world, that so far as our knowledge goes, there is not a more detestable character, nor a meaner or more barbarous enemy, than the present british one. with us, you have forfeited all pretensions to reputation, and it is only by holding you like a wild beast, afraid of your keepers, that you can be made manageable. but to return to the point in question. though i can think no man innocent who has lent his hand to destroy the country which he did not plant, and to ruin those that he could not enslave, yet, abstracted from all ideas of right and wrong on the original question, captain asgill, in the present case, is not the guilty man. the villain and the victim are here separated characters. you hold the one and we the other. you disown, or affect to disown and reprobate the conduct of lippincut, yet you give him a sanctuary; and by so doing you as effectually become the executioner of asgill, as if you had put the rope on his neck, and dismissed him from the world. whatever your feelings on this interesting occasion may be are best known to yourself. within the grave of your own mind lies buried the fate of asgill. he becomes the corpse of your will, or the survivor of your justice. deliver up the one, and you save the other; withhold the one, and the other dies by your choice. on our part the case is exceeding plain; an officer has been taken from his confinement and murdered, and the murderer is within your lines. your army has been guilty of a thousand instances of equal cruelty, but they have been rendered equivocal, and sheltered from personal detection. here the crime is fixed; and is one of those extraordinary cases which can neither be denied nor palliated, and to which the custom of war does not apply; for it never could be supposed that such a brutal outrage would ever be committed. it is an original in the history of civilized barbarians, and is truly british. on your part you are accountable to us for the personal safety of the prisoners within your walls. here can be no mistake; they can neither be spies nor suspected as such; your security is not endangered, nor your operations subjected to miscarriage, by men immured within a dungeon. they differ in every circumstance from men in the field, and leave no pretence for severity of punishment. but if to the dismal condition of captivity with you must be added the constant apprehensions of death; if to be imprisoned is so nearly to be entombed; and if, after all, the murderers are to be protected, and thereby the crime encouraged, wherein do you differ from [american] indians either in conduct or character? we can have no idea of your honor, or your justice, in any future transaction, of what nature it may be, while you shelter within your lines an outrageous murderer, and sacrifice in his stead an officer of your own. if you have no regard to us, at least spare the blood which it is your duty to save. whether the punishment will be greater on him, who, in this case, innocently dies, or on him whom sad necessity forces to retaliate, is, in the nicety of sensation, an undecided question? it rests with you to prevent the sufferings of both. you have nothing to do but to give up the murderer, and the matter ends. but to protect him, be he who he may, is to patronize his crime, and to trifle it off by frivolous and unmeaning inquiries, is to promote it. there is no declaration you can make, nor promise you can give that will obtain credit. it is the man and not the apology that is demanded. you see yourself pressed on all sides to spare the life of your own officer, for die he will if you withhold justice. the murder of captain huddy is an offence not to be borne with, and there is no security which we can have, that such actions or similar ones shall not be repeated, but by making the punishment fall upon yourselves. to destroy the last security of captivity, and to take the unarmed, the unresisting prisoner to private and sportive execution, is carrying barbarity too high for silence. the evil must be put an end to; and the choice of persons rests with you. but if your attachment to the guilty is stronger than to the innocent, you invent a crime that must destroy your character, and if the cause of your king needs to be so supported, for ever cease, sir, to torture our remembrance with the wretched phrases of british honor, british generosity and british clemency. from this melancholy circumstance, learn, sir, a lesson of morality. the refugees are men whom your predecessors have instructed in wickedness, the better to fit them to their master's purpose. to make them useful, they have made them vile, and the consequence of their tutored villany is now descending on the heads of their encouragers. they have been trained like hounds to the scent of blood, and cherished in every species of dissolute barbarity. their ideas of right and wrong are worn away in the constant habitude of repeated infamy, till, like men practised in execution, they feel not the value of another's life. the task before you, though painful, is not difficult; give up the murderer, and save your officer, as the first outset of a necessary reformation. common sense. philadelphia may , . the crisis. xii. to the earl of shelburne. my lord,--a speech, which has been printed in several of the british and new york newspapers, as coming from your lordship, in answer to one from the duke of richmond, of the th of july last, contains expressions and opinions so new and singular, and so enveloped in mysterious reasoning, that i address this publication to you, for the purpose of giving them a free and candid examination. the speech i allude to is in these words: "his lordship said, it had been mentioned in another place, that he had been guilty of inconsistency. to clear himself of this, he asserted that he still held the same principles in respect to american independence which he at first imbibed. he had been, and yet was of opinion, whenever the parliament of great britain acknowledges that point, the sun of england's glory is set forever. such were the sentiments he possessed on a former day, and such the sentiments he continued to hold at this hour. it was the opinion of lord chatham, as well as many other able statesmen. other noble lords, however, think differently, and as the majority of the cabinet support them, he acquiesced in the measure, dissenting from the idea; and the point is settled for bringing the matter into the full discussion of parliament, where it will be candidly, fairly, and impartially debated. the independence of america would end in the ruin of england; and that a peace patched up with france, would give that proud enemy the means of yet trampling on this country. the sun of england's glory he wished not to see set forever; he looked for a spark at least to be left, which might in time light us up to a new day. but if independence was to be granted, if parliament deemed that measure prudent, he foresaw, in his own mind, that england was undone. he wished to god that he had been deputed to congress, that be might plead the cause of that country as well as of this, and that he might exercise whatever powers he possessed as an orator, to save both from ruin, in a conviction to congress, that, if their independence was signed, their liberties were gone forever. "peace, his lordship added, was a desirable object, but it must be an honorable peace, and not an humiliating one, dictated by france, or insisted on by america. it was very true, that this kingdom was not in a flourishing state, it was impoverished by war. but if we were not rich, it was evident that france was poor. if we were straitened in our finances, the enemy were exhausted in their resources. this was a great empire; it abounded with brave men, who were able and willing to fight in a common cause; the language of humiliation should not, therefore, be the language of great britain. his lordship said, that he was not afraid nor ashamed of those expressions going to america. there were numbers, great numbers there, who were of the same way of thinking, in respect to that country being dependent on this, and who, with his lordship, perceived ruin and independence linked together." thus far the speech; on which i remark--that his lordship is a total stranger to the mind and sentiments of america; that he has wrapped himself up in fond delusion, that something less than independence, may, under his administration, be accepted; and he wishes himself sent to congress, to prove the most extraordinary of all doctrines, which is, that independence, the sublimest of all human conditions, is loss of liberty. in answer to which we may say, that in order to know what the contrary word dependence means, we have only to look back to those years of severe humiliation, when the mildest of all petitions could obtain no other notice than the haughtiest of all insults; and when the base terms of unconditional submission were demanded, or undistinguishable destruction threatened. it is nothing to us that the ministry have been changed, for they may be changed again. the guilt of a government is the crime of a whole country; and the nation that can, though but for a moment, think and act as england has done, can never afterwards be believed or trusted. there are cases in which it is as impossible to restore character to life, as it is to recover the dead. it is a phoenix that can expire but once, and from whose ashes there is no resurrection. some offences are of such a slight composition, that they reach no further than the temper, and are created or cured by a thought. but the sin of england has struck the heart of america, and nature has not left in our power to say we can forgive. your lordship wishes for an opportunity to plead before congress the cause of england and america, and to save, as you say, both from ruin. that the country, which, for more than seven years has sought our destruction, should now cringe to solicit our protection, is adding the wretchedness of disgrace to the misery of disappointment; and if england has the least spark of supposed honor left, that spark must be darkened by asking, and extinguished by receiving, the smallest favor from america; for the criminal who owes his life to the grace and mercy of the injured, is more executed by living, than he who dies. but a thousand pleadings, even from your lordship, can have no effect. honor, interest, and every sensation of the heart, would plead against you. we are a people who think not as you think; and what is equally true, you cannot feel as we feel. the situations of the two countries are exceedingly different. ours has been the seat of war; yours has seen nothing of it. the most wanton destruction has been committed in our sight; the most insolent barbarity has been acted on our feelings. we can look round and see the remains of burnt and destroyed houses, once the fair fruit of hard industry, and now the striking monuments of british brutality. we walk over the dead whom we loved, in every part of america, and remember by whom they fell. there is scarcely a village but brings to life some melancholy thought, and reminds us of what we have suffered, and of those we have lost by the inhumanity of britain. a thousand images arise to us, which, from situation, you cannot see, and are accompanied by as many ideas which you cannot know; and therefore your supposed system of reasoning would apply to nothing, and all your expectations die of themselves. the question whether england shall accede to the independence of america, and which your lordship says is to undergo a parliamentary discussion, is so very simple, and composed of so few cases, that it scarcely needs a debate. it is the only way out of an expensive and ruinous war, which has no object, and without which acknowledgment there can be no peace. but your lordship says, the sun of great britain will set whenever she acknowledges the independence of america.--whereas the metaphor would have been strictly just, to have left the sun wholly out of the figure, and have ascribed her not acknowledging it to the influence of the moon. but the expression, if true, is the greatest confession of disgrace that could be made, and furnishes america with the highest notions of sovereign independent importance. mr. wedderburne, about the year , made use of an idea of much the same kind,--relinquish america! says he--what is it but to desire a giant to shrink spontaneously into a dwarf. alas! are those people who call themselves englishmen, of so little internal consequence, that when america is gone, or shuts her eyes upon them, their sun is set, they can shine no more, but grope about in obscurity, and contract into insignificant animals? was america, then, the giant of the empire, and england only her dwarf in waiting! is the case so strangely altered, that those who once thought we could not live without them, are now brought to declare that they cannot exist without us? will they tell to the world, and that from their first minister of state, that america is their all in all; that it is by her importance only that they can live, and breathe, and have a being? will they, who long since threatened to bring us to their feet, bow themselves to ours, and own that without us they are not a nation? are they become so unqualified to debate on independence, that they have lost all idea of it themselves, and are calling to the rocks and mountains of america to cover their insignificance? or, if america is lost, is it manly to sob over it like a child for its rattle, and invite the laughter of the world by declarations of disgrace? surely, a more consistent line of conduct would be to bear it without complaint; and to show that england, without america, can preserve her independence, and a suitable rank with other european powers. you were not contented while you had her, and to weep for her now is childish. but lord shelburne thinks something may yet be done. what that something is, or how it is to be accomplished, is a matter in obscurity. by arms there is no hope. the experience of nearly eight years, with the expense of an hundred million pounds sterling, and the loss of two armies, must positively decide that point. besides, the british have lost their interest in america with the disaffected. every part of it has been tried. there is no new scene left for delusion: and the thousands who have been ruined by adhering to them, and have now to quit the settlements which they had acquired, and be conveyed like transports to cultivate the deserts of augustine and nova scotia, has put an end to all further expectations of aid. if you cast your eyes on the people of england, what have they to console themselves with for the millions expended? or, what encouragement is there left to continue throwing good money after bad? america can carry on the war for ten years longer, and all the charges of government included, for less than you can defray the charges of war and government for one year. and i, who know both countries, know well, that the people of america can afford to pay their share of the expense much better than the people of england can. besides, it is their own estates and property, their own rights, liberties and government, that they are defending; and were they not to do it, they would deserve to lose all, and none would pity them. the fault would be their own, and their punishment just. the british army in america care not how long the war lasts. they enjoy an easy and indolent life. they fatten on the folly of one country and the spoils of another; and, between their plunder and their prey, may go home rich. but the case is very different with the laboring farmer, the working tradesman, and the necessitous poor in england, the sweat of whose brow goes day after day to feed, in prodigality and sloth, the army that is robbing both them and us. removed from the eye of that country that supports them, and distant from the government that employs them, they cut and carve for themselves, and there is none to call them to account. but england will be ruined, says lord shelburne, if america is independent. then i say, is england already ruined, for america is already independent: and if lord shelburne will not allow this, he immediately denies the fact which he infers. besides, to make england the mere creature of america, is paying too great a compliment to us, and too little to himself. but the declaration is a rhapsody of inconsistency. for to say, as lord shelburne has numberless times said, that the war against america is ruinous, and yet to continue the prosecution of that ruinous war for the purpose of avoiding ruin, is a language which cannot be understood. neither is it possible to see how the independence of america is to accomplish the ruin of england after the war is over, and yet not affect it before. america cannot be more independent of her, nor a greater enemy to her, hereafter than she now is; nor can england derive less advantages from her than at present: why then is ruin to follow in the best state of the case, and not in the worst? and if not in the worst, why is it to follow at all? that a nation is to be ruined by peace and commerce, and fourteen or fifteen millions a-year less expenses than before, is a new doctrine in politics. we have heard much clamor of national savings and economy; but surely the true economy would be, to save the whole charge of a silly, foolish, and headstrong war; because, compared with this, all other retrenchments are baubles and trifles. but is it possible that lord shelburne can be serious in supposing that the least advantage can be obtained by arms, or that any advantage can be equal to the expense or the danger of attempting it? will not the capture of one army after another satisfy him, must all become prisoners? must england ever be the sport of hope, and the victim of delusion? sometimes our currency was to fail; another time our army was to disband; then whole provinces were to revolt. such a general said this and that; another wrote so and so; lord chatham was of this opinion; and lord somebody else of another. to-day , russians and russian ships of the line were to come; to-morrow the empress was abused without mercy or decency. then the emperor of germany was to be bribed with a million of money, and the king of prussia was to do wonderful things. at one time it was, lo here! and then it was, lo there! sometimes this power, and sometimes that power, was to engage in the war, just as if the whole world was mad and foolish like britain. and thus, from year to year, has every straw been catched at, and every will-with-a-wisp led them a new dance. this year a still newer folly is to take place. lord shelburne wishes to be sent to congress, and he thinks that something may be done. are not the repeated declarations of congress, and which all america supports, that they will not even hear any proposals whatever, until the unconditional and unequivocal independence of america is recognised; are not, i say, these declarations answer enough? but for england to receive any thing from america now, after so many insults, injuries and outrages, acted towards us, would show such a spirit of meanness in her, that we could not but despise her for accepting it. and so far from lord shelburne's coming here to solicit it, it would be the greatest disgrace we could do them to offer it. england would appear a wretch indeed, at this time of day, to ask or owe any thing to the bounty of america. has not the name of englishman blots enough upon it, without inventing more? even lucifer would scorn to reign in heaven by permission, and yet an englishman can creep for only an entrance into america. or, has a land of liberty so many charms, that to be a doorkeeper in it is better than to be an english minister of state? but what can this expected something be? or, if obtained, what can it amount to, but new disgraces, contentions and quarrels? the people of america have for years accustomed themselves to think and speak so freely and contemptuously of english authority, and the inveteracy is so deeply rooted, that a person invested with any authority from that country, and attempting to exercise it here, would have the life of a toad under a harrow. they would look on him as an interloper, to whom their compassion permitted a residence. he would be no more than the mungo of a farce; and if he disliked that, he must set off. it would be a station of degradation, debased by our pity, and despised by our pride, and would place england in a more contemptible situation than any she has yet been in during the war. we have too high an opinion of ourselves, even to think of yielding again the least obedience to outlandish authority; and for a thousand reasons, england would be the last country in the world to yield it to. she has been treacherous, and we know it. her character is gone, and we have seen the funeral. surely she loves to fish in troubled waters, and drink the cup of contention, or she would not now think of mingling her affairs with those of america. it would be like a foolish dotard taking to his arms the bride that despises him, or who has placed on his head the ensigns of her disgust. it is kissing the hand that boxes his ears, and proposing to renew the exchange. the thought is as servile as the war is wicked, and shows the last scene of the drama to be as inconsistent as the first. as america is gone, the only act of manhood is to let her go. your lordship had no hand in the separation, and you will gain no honor by temporising politics. besides, there is something so exceedingly whimsical, unsteady, and even insincere in the present conduct of england, that she exhibits herself in the most dishonorable colors. on the second of august last, general carleton and admiral digby wrote to general washington in these words: "the resolution of the house of commons, of the th of february last, has been placed in your excellency's hands, and intimations given at the same time that further pacific measures were likely to follow. since which, until the present time, we have had no direct communications with england; but a mail is now arrived, which brings us very important information. we are acquainted, sir, by authority, that negotiations for a general peace have already commenced at paris, and that mr. grenville is invested with full powers to treat with all the parties at war, and is now at paris in execution of his commission. and we are further, sir, made acquainted, that his majesty, in order to remove any obstacles to this peace which he so ardently wishes to restore, has commanded his ministers to direct mr. grenville, that the independence of the thirteen united provinces, should be proposed by him in the first instance, instead of making it a condition of a general treaty." now, taking your present measures into view, and comparing them with the declaration in this letter, pray what is the word of your king, or his ministers, or the parliament, good for? must we not look upon you as a confederated body of faithless, treacherous men, whose assurances are fraud, and their language deceit? what opinion can we possibly form of you, but that you are a lost, abandoned, profligate nation, who sport even with your own character, and are to be held by nothing but the bayonet or the halter? to say, after this, that the sun of great britain will be set whenever she acknowledges the independence of america, when the not doing it is the unqualified lie of government, can be no other than the language of ridicule, the jargon of inconsistency. there were thousands in america who predicted the delusion, and looked upon it as a trick of treachery, to take us from our guard, and draw off our attention from the only system of finance, by which we can be called, or deserve to be called, a sovereign, independent people. the fraud, on your part, might be worth attempting, but the sacrifice to obtain it is too high. there are others who credited the assurance, because they thought it impossible that men who had their characters to establish, would begin with a lie. the prosecution of the war by the former ministry was savage and horrid; since which it has been mean, trickish, and delusive. the one went greedily into the passion of revenge, the other into the subtleties of low contrivance; till, between the crimes of both, there is scarcely left a man in america, be he whig or tory, who does not despise or detest the conduct of britain. the management of lord shelburne, whatever may be his views, is a caution to us, and must be to the world, never to regard british assurances. a perfidy so notorious cannot be hid. it stands even in the public papers of new york, with the names of carleton and digby affixed to it. it is a proclamation that the king of england is not to be believed; that the spirit of lying is the governing principle of the ministry. it is holding up the character of the house of commons to public infamy, and warning all men not to credit them. such are the consequences which lord shelburne's management has brought upon his country. after the authorized declarations contained in carleton and digby's letter, you ought, from every motive of honor, policy and prudence, to have fulfilled them, whatever might have been the event. it was the least atonement that you could possibly make to america, and the greatest kindness you could do to yourselves; for you will save millions by a general peace, and you will lose as many by continuing the war. common sense. philadelphia, oct. , . p. s. the manuscript copy of this letter is sent your lordship, by the way of our head-quarters, to new york, inclosing a late pamphlet of mine, addressed to the abbe raynal, which will serve to give your lordship some idea of the principles and sentiments of america. c. s. the crisis. xiii. thoughts on the peace, and probable advantages thereof. "the times that tried men's souls,"* are over--and the greatest and completest revolution the world ever knew, gloriously and happily accomplished. * "these are the times that try men's souls," the crisis no. i. published december, . but to pass from the extremes of danger to safety--from the tumult of war to the tranquillity of peace, though sweet in contemplation, requires a gradual composure of the senses to receive it. even calmness has the power of stunning, when it opens too instantly upon us. the long and raging hurricane that should cease in a moment, would leave us in a state rather of wonder than enjoyment; and some moments of recollection must pass, before we could be capable of tasting the felicity of repose. there are but few instances, in which the mind is fitted for sudden transitions: it takes in its pleasures by reflection and comparison and those must have time to act, before the relish for new scenes is complete. in the present case--the mighty magnitude of the object--the various uncertainties of fate it has undergone--the numerous and complicated dangers we have suffered or escaped--the eminence we now stand on, and the vast prospect before us, must all conspire to impress us with contemplation. to see it in our power to make a world happy--to teach mankind the art of being so--to exhibit, on the theatre of the universe a character hitherto unknown--and to have, as it were, a new creation intrusted to our hands, are honors that command reflection, and can neither be too highly estimated, nor too gratefully received. in this pause then of recollection--while the storm is ceasing, and the long agitated mind vibrating to a rest, let us look back on the scenes we have passed, and learn from experience what is yet to be done. never, i say, had a country so many openings to happiness as this. her setting out in life, like the rising of a fair morning, was unclouded and promising. her cause was good. her principles just and liberal. her temper serene and firm. her conduct regulated by the nicest steps, and everything about her wore the mark of honor. it is not every country (perhaps there is not another in the world) that can boast so fair an origin. even the first settlement of america corresponds with the character of the revolution. rome, once the proud mistress of the universe, was originally a band of ruffians. plunder and rapine made her rich, and her oppression of millions made her great. but america need never be ashamed to tell her birth, nor relate the stages by which she rose to empire. the remembrance, then, of what is past, if it operates rightly, must inspire her with the most laudable of all ambition, that of adding to the fair fame she began with. the world has seen her great in adversity; struggling, without a thought of yielding, beneath accumulated difficulties, bravely, nay proudly, encountering distress, and rising in resolution as the storm increased. all this is justly due to her, for her fortitude has merited the character. let, then, the world see that she can bear prosperity: and that her honest virtue in time of peace, is equal to the bravest virtue in time of war. she is now descending to the scenes of quiet and domestic life. not beneath the cypress shade of disappointment, but to enjoy in her own land, and under her own vine, the sweet of her labors, and the reward of her toil.--in this situation, may she never forget that a fair national reputation is of as much importance as independence. that it possesses a charm that wins upon the world, and makes even enemies civil. that it gives a dignity which is often superior to power, and commands reverence where pomp and splendor fail. it would be a circumstance ever to be lamented and never to be forgotten, were a single blot, from any cause whatever, suffered to fall on a revolution, which to the end of time must be an honor to the age that accomplished it: and which has contributed more to enlighten the world, and diffuse a spirit of freedom and liberality among mankind, than any human event (if this may be called one) that ever preceded it. it is not among the least of the calamities of a long continued war, that it unhinges the mind from those nice sensations which at other times appear so amiable. the continual spectacle of woe blunts the finer feelings, and the necessity of bearing with the sight, renders it familiar. in like manner, are many of the moral obligations of society weakened, till the custom of acting by necessity becomes an apology, where it is truly a crime. yet let but a nation conceive rightly of its character, and it will be chastely just in protecting it. none ever began with a fairer than america and none can be under a greater obligation to preserve it. the debt which america has contracted, compared with the cause she has gained, and the advantages to flow from it, ought scarcely to be mentioned. she has it in her choice to do, and to live as happily as she pleases. the world is in her hands. she has no foreign power to monopolize her commerce, perplex her legislation, or control her prosperity. the struggle is over, which must one day have happened, and, perhaps, never could have happened at a better time.* and instead of a domineering master, she has gained an ally whose exemplary greatness, and universal liberality, have extorted a confession even from her enemies. * that the revolution began at the exact period of time best fitted to the purpose, is sufficiently proved by the event.--but the great hinge on which the whole machine turned, is the union of the states: and this union was naturally produced by the inability of any one state to support itself against any foreign enemy without the assistance of the rest. had the states severally been less able than they were when the war began, their united strength would not have been equal to the undertaking, and they must in all human probability have failed.--and, on the other hand, had they severally been more able, they might not have seen, or, what is more, might not have felt, the necessity of uniting: and, either by attempting to stand alone or in small confederacies, would have been separately conquered. now, as we cannot see a time (and many years must pass away before it can arrive) when the strength of any one state, or several united, can be equal to the whole of the present united states, and as we have seen the extreme difficulty of collectively prosecuting the war to a successful issue, and preserving our national importance in the world, therefore, from the experience we have had, and the knowledge we have gained, we must, unless we make a waste of wisdom, be strongly impressed with the advantage, as well as the necessity of strengthening that happy union which had been our salvation, and without which we should have been a ruined people. while i was writing this note, i cast my eye on the pamphlet, common sense, from which i shall make an extract, as it exactly applies to the case. it is as follows: "i have never met with a man, either in england or america, who has not confessed it as his opinion that a separation between the countries would take place one time or other; and there is no instance in which we have shown less judgment, than in endeavoring to describe what we call the ripeness or fitness of the continent for independence. as all men allow the measure, and differ only in their opinion of the time, let us, in order to remove mistakes, take a general survey of things, and endeavor, if possible, to find out the very time. but we need not to go far, the inquiry ceases at once, for, the time has found us. the general concurrence, the glorious union of all things prove the fact. it is not in numbers, but in a union, that our great strength lies. the continent is just arrived at that pitch of strength, in which no single colony is able to support itself, and the whole, when united, can accomplish the matter; and either more or less than this, might be fatal in its effects." with the blessings of peace, independence, and an universal commerce, the states, individually and collectively, will have leisure and opportunity to regulate and establish their domestic concerns, and to put it beyond the power of calumny to throw the least reflection on their honor. character is much easier kept than recovered, and that man, if any such there be, who, from sinister views, or littleness of soul, lends unseen his hand to injure it, contrives a wound it will never be in his power to heal. as we have established an inheritance for posterity, let that inheritance descend, with every mark of an honorable conveyance. the little it will cost, compared with the worth of the states, the greatness of the object, and the value of the national character, will be a profitable exchange. but that which must more forcibly strike a thoughtful, penetrating mind, and which includes and renders easy all inferior concerns, is the union of the states. on this our great national character depends. it is this which must give us importance abroad and security at home. it is through this only that we are, or can be, nationally known in the world; it is the flag of the united states which renders our ships and commerce safe on the seas, or in a foreign port. our mediterranean passes must be obtained under the same style. all our treaties, whether of alliance, peace, or commerce, are formed under the sovereignty of the united states, and europe knows us by no other name or title. the division of the empire into states is for our own convenience, but abroad this distinction ceases. the affairs of each state are local. they can go no further than to itself. and were the whole worth of even the richest of them expended in revenue, it would not be sufficient to support sovereignty against a foreign attack. in short, we have no other national sovereignty than as united states. it would even be fatal for us if we had--too expensive to be maintained, and impossible to be supported. individuals, or individual states, may call themselves what they please; but the world, and especially the world of enemies, is not to be held in awe by the whistling of a name. sovereignty must have power to protect all the parts that compose and constitute it: and as united states we are equal to the importance of the title, but otherwise we are not. our union, well and wisely regulated and cemented, is the cheapest way of being great--the easiest way of being powerful, and the happiest invention in government which the circumstances of america can admit of.--because it collects from each state, that which, by being inadequate, can be of no use to it, and forms an aggregate that serves for all. the states of holland are an unfortunate instance of the effects of individual sovereignty. their disjointed condition exposes them to numerous intrigues, losses, calamities, and enemies; and the almost impossibility of bringing their measures to a decision, and that decision into execution, is to them, and would be to us, a source of endless misfortune. it is with confederated states as with individuals in society; something must be yielded up to make the whole secure. in this view of things we gain by what we give, and draw an annual interest greater than the capital.--i ever feel myself hurt when i hear the union, that great palladium of our liberty and safety, the least irreverently spoken of. it is the most sacred thing in the constitution of america, and that which every man should be most proud and tender of. our citizenship in the united states is our national character. our citizenship in any particular state is only our local distinction. by the latter we are known at home, by the former to the world. our great title is americans--our inferior one varies with the place. so far as my endeavors could go, they have all been directed to conciliate the affections, unite the interests, and draw and keep the mind of the country together; and the better to assist in this foundation work of the revolution, i have avoided all places of profit or office, either in the state i live in, or in the united states; kept myself at a distance from all parties and party connections, and even disregarded all private and inferior concerns: and when we take into view the great work which we have gone through, and feel, as we ought to feel, the just importance of it, we shall then see, that the little wranglings and indecent contentions of personal parley, are as dishonorable to our characters, as they are injurious to our repose. it was the cause of america that made me an author. the force with which it struck my mind and the dangerous condition the country appeared to me in, by courting an impossible and an unnatural reconciliation with those who were determined to reduce her, instead of striking out into the only line that could cement and save her, a declaration of independence, made it impossible for me, feeling as i did, to be silent: and if, in the course of more than seven years, i have rendered her any service, i have likewise added something to the reputation of literature, by freely and disinterestedly employing it in the great cause of mankind, and showing that there may be genius without prostitution. independence always appeared to me practicable and probable, provided the sentiment of the country could be formed and held to the object: and there is no instance in the world, where a people so extended, and wedded to former habits of thinking, and under such a variety of circumstances, were so instantly and effectually pervaded, by a turn in politics, as in the case of independence; and who supported their opinion, undiminished, through such a succession of good and ill fortune, till they crowned it with success. but as the scenes of war are closed, and every man preparing for home and happier times, i therefore take my leave of the subject. i have most sincerely followed it from beginning to end, and through all its turns and windings: and whatever country i may hereafter be in, i shall always feel an honest pride at the part i have taken and acted, and a gratitude to nature and providence for putting it in my power to be of some use to mankind. common sense. philadelphia, april , . a supernumerary crisis: to the people of america. in "_rivington's new york gazette_," of december th, is a publication, under the appearance of a letter from london, dated september th; and is on a subject which demands the attention of the united states. the public will remember that a treaty of commerce between the united states and england was set on foot last spring, and that until the said treaty could be completed, a bill was brought into the british parliament by the then chancellor of the exchequer, mr. pitt, to admit and legalize (as the case then required) the commerce of the united states into the british ports and dominions. but neither the one nor the other has been completed. the commercial treaty is either broken off, or remains as it began; and the bill in parliament has been thrown aside. and in lieu thereof, a selfish system of english politics has started up, calculated to fetter the commerce of america, by engrossing to england the carrying trade of the american produce to the west india islands. among the advocates for this last measure is lord sheffield, a member of the british parliament, who has published a pamphlet entitled "observations on the commerce of the american states." the pamphlet has two objects; the one is to allure the americans to purchase british manufactures; and the other to spirit up the british parliament to prohibit the citizens of the united states from trading to the west india islands. viewed in this light, the pamphlet, though in some parts dexterously written, is an absurdity. it offends, in the very act of endeavoring to ingratiate; and his lordship, as a politician, ought not to have suffered the two objects to have appeared together. the latter alluded to, contains extracts from the pamphlet, with high encomiums on lord sheffield, for laboriously endeavoring (as the letter styles it) "to show the mighty advantages of retaining the carrying trade." since the publication of this pamphlet in england, the commerce of the united states to the west indies, in american vessels, has been prohibited; and all intercourse, except in british bottoms, the property of and navigated by british subjects, cut off. that a country has a right to be as foolish as it pleases, has been proved by the practice of england for many years past: in her island situation, sequestered from the world, she forgets that her whispers are heard by other nations; and in her plans of politics and commerce she seems not to know, that other votes are necessary besides her own. america would be equally as foolish as britain, were she to suffer so great a degradation on her flag, and such a stroke on the freedom of her commerce, to pass without a balance. we admit the right of any nation to prohibit the commerce of another into its own dominions, where there are no treaties to the contrary; but as this right belongs to one side as well as the other, there is always a way left to bring avarice and insolence to reason. but the ground of security which lord sheffield has chosen to erect his policy upon, is of a nature which ought, and i think must, awaken in every american a just and strong sense of national dignity. lord sheffield appears to be sensible, that in advising the british nation and parliament to engross to themselves so great a part of the carrying trade of america, he is attempting a measure which cannot succeed, if the politics of the united states be properly directed to counteract the assumption. but, says he, in his pamphlet, "it will be a long time before the american states can be brought to act as a nation, neither are they to be feared as such by us." what is this more or less than to tell us, that while we have no national system of commerce, the british will govern our trade by their own laws and proclamations as they please. the quotation discloses a truth too serious to be overlooked, and too mischievous not to be remedied. among other circumstances which led them to this discovery none could operate so effectually as the injudicious, uncandid and indecent opposition made by sundry persons in a certain state, to the recommendations of congress last winter, for an import duty of five per cent. it could not but explain to the british a weakness in the national power of america, and encourage them to attempt restrictions on her trade, which otherwise they would not have dared to hazard. neither is there any state in the union, whose policy was more misdirected to its interest than the state i allude to, because her principal support is the carrying trade, which britain, induced by the want of a well-centred power in the united states to protect and secure, is now attempting to take away. it fortunately happened (and to no state in the union more than the state in question) that the terms of peace were agreed on before the opposition appeared, otherwise, there cannot be a doubt, that if the same idea of the diminished authority of america had occurred to them at that time as has occurred to them since, but they would have made the same grasp at the fisheries, as they have done at the carrying trade. it is surprising that an authority which can be supported with so much ease, and so little expense, and capable of such extensive advantages to the country, should be cavilled at by those whose duty it is to watch over it, and whose existence as a people depends upon it. but this, perhaps, will ever be the case, till some misfortune awakens us into reason, and the instance now before us is but a gentle beginning of what america must expect, unless she guards her union with nicer care and stricter honor. united, she is formidable, and that with the least possible charge a nation can be so; separated, she is a medley of individual nothings, subject to the sport of foreign nations. it is very probable that the ingenuity of commerce may have found out a method to evade and supersede the intentions of the british, in interdicting the trade with the west india islands. the language of both being the same, and their customs well understood, the vessels of one country may, by deception, pass for those of another. but this would be a practice too debasing for a sovereign people to stoop to, and too profligate not to be discountenanced. an illicit trade, under any shape it can be placed, cannot be carried on without a violation of truth. america is now sovereign and independent, and ought to conduct her affairs in a regular style of character. she has the same right to say that no british vessel shall enter ports, or that no british manufactures shall be imported, but in american bottoms, the property of, and navigated by american subjects, as britain has to say the same thing respecting the west indies. or she may lay a duty of ten, fifteen, or twenty shillings per ton (exclusive of other duties) on every british vessel coming from any port of the west indies, where she is not admitted to trade, the said tonnage to continue as long on her side as the prohibition continues on the other. but it is only by acting in union, that the usurpations of foreign nations on the freedom of trade can be counteracted, and security extended to the commerce of america. and when we view a flag, which to the eye is beautiful, and to contemplate its rise and origin inspires a sensation of sublime delight, our national honor must unite with our interest to prevent injury to the one, or insult to the other. common sense. new york, december , . on liberty. by john stuart mill. with an introduction by w. l. courtney, ll.d. the walter scott publishing co., ltd. london and felling-on-tyne new york and melbourne _to the beloved and deplored memory of her who was the inspirer, and in part the author, of all that is best in my writings--the friend and wife whose exalted sense of truth and right was my strongest incitement, and whose approbation was my chief reward--i dedicate this volume. like all that i have written for many years, it belongs as much to her as to me; but the work as it stands has had, in a very insufficient degree, the inestimable advantage of her revision; some of the most important portions having been reserved for a more careful re-examination, which they are now never destined to receive. were i but capable of interpreting to the world one-half the great thoughts and noble feelings which are buried in her grave, i should be the medium of a greater benefit to it than is ever likely to arise from anything that i can write, unprompted and unassisted by her all but unrivalled wisdom._ introduction. i. john stuart mill was born on th may . he was a delicate child, and the extraordinary education designed by his father was not calculated to develop and improve his physical powers. "i never was a boy," he says; "never played cricket." his exercise was taken in the form of walks with his father, during which the elder mill lectured his son and examined him on his work. it is idle to speculate on the possible results of a different treatment. mill remained delicate throughout his life, but was endowed with that intense mental energy which is so often combined with physical weakness. his youth was sacrificed to an idea; he was designed by his father to carry on his work; the individuality of the boy was unimportant. a visit to the south of france at the age of fourteen, in company with the family of general sir samuel bentham, was not without its influence. it was a glimpse of another atmosphere, though the studious habits of his home life were maintained. moreover, he derived from it his interest in foreign politics, which remained one of his characteristics to the end of his life. in he was appointed junior clerk in the examiners' office at the india house. mill's first essays were written in the _traveller_ about a year before he entered the india house. from that time forward his literary work was uninterrupted save by attacks of illness. his industry was stupendous. he wrote articles on an infinite variety of subjects, political, metaphysical, philosophic, religious, poetical. he discovered tennyson for his generation, he influenced the writing of carlyle's _french revolution_ as well as its success. and all the while he was engaged in studying and preparing for his more ambitious works, while he rose step by step at the india office. his _essays on unsettled questions in political economy_ were written in , although they did not appear until thirteen years later. his _system of logic_, the design of which was even then fashioning itself in his brain, took thirteen years to complete, and was actually published before the _political economy_. in appeared the article on michelet, which its author anticipated would cause some discussion, but which did not create the sensation he expected. next year there were the "claims of labour" and "guizot," and in his articles on irish affairs in the _morning chronicle_. these years were very much influenced by his friendship and correspondence with comte, a curious comradeship between men of such different temperament. in mill published his _political economy_, to which he had given his serious study since the completion of his _logic_. his articles and reviews, though they involved a good deal of work--as, for instance, the re-perusal of the _iliad_ and the _odyssey_ in the original before reviewing grote's _greece_--were recreation to the student. the year saw him head of the examiners' office in the india house, and another two years brought the end of his official work, owing to the transfer of india to the crown. in the same year his wife died. _liberty_ was published shortly after, as well as the _thoughts on parliamentary reform_, and no year passed without mill making important contributions on the political, philosophical, and ethical questions of the day. seven years after the death of his wife, mill was invited to contest westminster. his feeling on the conduct of elections made him refuse to take any personal action in the matter, and he gave the frankest expression to his political views, but nevertheless he was elected by a large majority. he was not a conventional success in the house; as a speaker he lacked magnetism. but his influence was widely felt. "for the sake of the house of commons at large," said mr. gladstone, "i rejoiced in his advent and deplored his disappearance. he did us all good." after only three years in parliament, he was defeated at the next general election by mr. w. h. smith. he retired to avignon, to the pleasant little house where the happiest years of his life had been spent in the companionship of his wife, and continued his disinterested labours. he completed his edition of his father's _analysis of the mind_, and also produced, in addition to less important work, _the subjection of women_, in which he had the active co-operation of his step-daughter. a book on socialism was under consideration, but, like an earlier study of sociology, it never was written. he died in , his last years being spent peacefully in the pleasant society of his step-daughter, from whose tender care and earnest intellectual sympathy he caught maybe a far-off reflection of the light which had irradiated his spiritual life. ii. the circumstances under which john stuart mill wrote his _liberty_ are largely connected with the influence which mrs. taylor wielded over his career. the dedication is well known. it contains the most extraordinary panegyric on a woman that any philosopher has ever penned. "were i but capable of interpreting to the world one-half the great thoughts and noble feelings which are buried in her grave, i should be the medium of a greater benefit to it than is ever likely to arise from anything that i can write, unprompted and unassisted by her all but unrivalled wisdom." it is easy for the ordinary worldly cynicism to curl a sceptical lip over sentences like these. there may be exaggeration of sentiment, the necessary and inevitable reaction of a man who was trained according to the "dry light" of so unimpressionable a man as james mill, the father; but the passage quoted is not the only one in which john stuart mill proclaims his unhesitating belief in the intellectual influence of his wife. the treatise on _liberty_ was written especially under her authority and encouragement, but there are many earlier references to the power which she exercised over his mind. mill was introduced to her as early as , at a dinner-party at mr. taylor's house, where were present, amongst others, roebuck, w. j. fox, and miss harriet martineau. the acquaintance rapidly ripened into intimacy and the intimacy into friendship, and mill was never weary of expatiating on all the advantages of so singular a relationship. in some of the presentation copies of his work on _political economy_, he wrote the following dedication:--"to mrs. john taylor, who, of all persons known to the author, is the most highly qualified either to originate or to appreciate speculation on social advancement, this work is with the highest respect and esteem dedicated." an article on the enfranchisement of women was made the occasion for another encomium. we shall hardly be wrong in attributing a much later book, _the subjection of women_, published in , to the influence wielded by mrs. taylor. finally, the pages of the _autobiography_ ring with the dithyrambic praise of his "almost infallible counsellor." the facts of this remarkable intimacy can easily be stated. the deductions are more difficult. there is no question that mill's infatuation was the cause of considerable trouble to his acquaintances and friends. his father openly taxed him with being in love with another man's wife. roebuck, mrs. grote, mrs. austin, miss harriet martineau were amongst those who suffered because they made some allusion to a forbidden subject. mrs. taylor lived with her daughter in a lodging in the country; but in her husband died, and then mill made her his wife. opinions were widely divergent as to her merits; but every one agreed that up to the time of her death, in , mill was wholly lost to his friends. george mill, one of mill's younger brothers, gave it as his opinion that she was a clever and remarkable woman, but "nothing like what john took her to be." carlyle, in his reminiscences, described her with ambiguous epithets. she was "vivid," "iridescent," "pale and passionate and sad-looking, a living-romance heroine of the royalist volition and questionable destiny." it is not possible to make much of a judgment like this, but we get on more certain ground when we discover that mrs. carlyle said on one occasion that "she is thought to be dangerous," and that carlyle added that she was worse than dangerous, she was patronising. the occasion when mill and his wife were brought into close contact with the carlyles is well known. the manuscript of the first volume of the _french revolution_ had been lent to mill, and was accidentally burnt by mrs. mill's servant. mill and his wife drove up to carlyle's door, the wife speechless, the husband so full of conversation that he detained carlyle with desperate attempts at loquacity for two hours. but dr. garnett tells us, in his _life of carlyle_, that mill made a substantial reparation for the calamity for which he was responsible by inducing the aggrieved author to accept half of the £ which he offered. mrs. mill, as i have said, died in , after seven years of happy companionship with her husband, and was buried at avignon. the inscription which mill wrote for her grave is too characteristic to be omitted:--"her great and loving heart, her noble soul, her clear, powerful, original, and comprehensive intellect, made her the guide and support, the instructor in wisdom and the example in goodness, as she was the sole earthly delight of those who had the happiness to belong to her. as earnest for all public good as she was generous and devoted to all who surrounded her, her influence has been felt in many of the greatest improvements of the age, and will be in those still to come. were there even a few hearts and intellects like hers, this earth would already become the hoped-for heaven." these lines prove the intensity of mill's feeling, which is not afraid of abundant verbiage; but they also prove that he could not imagine what the effect would be on others, and, as grote said, only mill's reputation could survive these and similar displays. every one will judge for himself of this romantic episode in mill's career, according to such experience as he may possess of the philosophic mind and of the value of these curious but not infrequent relationships. it may have been a piece of infatuation, or, if we prefer to say so, it may have been the most gracious and the most human page in mill's career. mrs. mill may have flattered her husband's vanity by echoing his opinions, or she may have indeed been an egeria, full of inspiration and intellectual helpfulness. what usually happens in these cases,--although the philosopher himself, through his belief in the equality of the sexes, was debarred from thinking so,--is the extremely valuable action and reaction of two different classes and orders of mind. to any one whose thoughts have been occupied with the sphere of abstract speculation, the lively and vivid presentment of concrete fact comes as a delightful and agreeable shock. the instinct of the woman often enables her not only to apprehend but to illustrate a truth for which she would be totally unable to give the adequate philosophic reasoning. on the other hand, the man, with the more careful logical methods and the slow processes of formal reasoning, is apt to suppose that the happy intuition which leaps to the conclusion is really based on the intellectual processes of which he is conscious in his own case. thus both parties to the happy contract are equally pleased. the abstract truth gets the concrete illustration; the concrete illustration finds its proper foundation in a series of abstract inquiries. perhaps carlyle's epithets of "iridescent" and "vivid" refer incidentally to mrs. mill's quick perceptiveness, and thus throw a useful light on the mutual advantages of the common work of husband and wife. but it savours almost of impertinence even to attempt to lift the veil on a mystery like this. it is enough to say, perhaps, that however much we may deplore the exaggeration of mill's references to his wife, we recognise that, for whatever reason, the pair lived an ideally happy life. it still, however, remains to estimate the extent to which mrs. taylor, both before and after her marriage with mill, made actual contributions to his thoughts and his public work. here i may be perhaps permitted to avail myself of what i have already written in a previous work.[ ] mill gives us abundant help in this matter in the _autobiography_. when first he knew her, his thoughts were turning to the subject of logic. but his published work on the subject owed nothing to her, he tells us, in its doctrines. it was mill's custom to write the whole of a book so as to get his general scheme complete, and then laboriously to re-write it in order to perfect the phrases and the composition. doubtless mrs. taylor was of considerable help to him as a critic of style. but to be a critic of doctrine she was hardly qualified. mill has made some clear admissions on this point. "the only actual revolution which has ever taken place in my modes of thinking was already complete,"[ ] he says, before her influence became paramount. there is a curiously humble estimate of his own powers (to which dr. bain has called attention), which reads at first sight as if it contradicted this. "during the greater part of my literary life i have performed the office in relation to her, which, from a rather early period, i had considered as the most useful part that i was qualified to take in the domain of thought, that of an interpreter of original thinkers, and mediator between them and the public." so far it would seem that mill had sat at the feet of his oracle; but observe the highly remarkable exception which is made in the following sentence:--"for i had always a humble opinion of my own powers as an original thinker, _except in abstract science (logic, metaphysics, and the theoretic principles of political economy and politics.)_"[ ] if mill then was an original thinker in logic, metaphysics, and the science of economy and politics, it is clear that he had not learnt these from her lips. and to most men logic and metaphysics may be safely taken as forming a domain in which originality of thought, if it can be honestly professed, is a sufficient title of distinction. mrs. taylor's assistance in the _political economy_ is confined to certain definite points. the purely scientific part was, we are assured, not learnt from her. "but it was chiefly her influence which gave to the book that general tone by which it is distinguished from all previous expositions of political economy that had any pretensions to be scientific, and which has made it so useful in conciliating minds which those previous expositions had repelled. this tone consisted chiefly in making the proper distinction between the laws of the production of wealth, which are real laws of nature, dependent on the properties of objects, and the modes of its distribution, which, subject to certain conditions, depend on human will.... _i had indeed partially learnt this view of things from the thoughts awakened in me by the speculations of st. simonians_; but it was made a living principle, pervading and animating the book, by my wife's promptings."[ ] the part which is italicised is noticeable. here, as elsewhere, mill thinks out the matter by himself; the concrete form of the thoughts is suggested or prompted by the wife. apart from this "general tone," mill tells us that there was a specific contribution. "the chapter which has had a greater influence on opinion than all the rest, that on the probable future of the labouring classes, is entirely due to her. in the first draft of the book that chapter did not exist. she pointed out the need of such a chapter, and the extreme imperfection of the book without it; she was the cause of my writing it." from this it would appear that she gave mill that tendency to socialism which, while it lends a progressive spirit to his speculations on politics, at the same time does not manifestly accord with his earlier advocacy of peasant proprietorships. nor, again, is it, on the face of it, consistent with those doctrines of individual liberty which, aided by the intellectual companionship of his wife, he propounded in a later work. the ideal of individual freedom is not the ideal of socialism, just as that invocation of governmental aid to which the socialist resorts is not consistent with the theory of _laisser-faire_. yet _liberty_ was planned by mill and his wife in concert. perhaps a slight visionariness of speculation was no less the attribute of mrs. mill than an absence of rigid logical principles. be this as it may, she undoubtedly checked the half-recognised leanings of her husband in the direction of coleridge and carlyle. whether this was an instance of her steadying influence,[ ] or whether it added one more unassimilated element to mill's diverse intellectual sustenance, may be wisely left an open question. we cannot, however, be wrong in attributing to her the parentage of one book of mill, _the subjection of women_. it is true that mill had before learnt that men and women ought to be equal in legal, political, social, and domestic relations. this was a point on which he had already fallen foul of his father's essay on _government_. but mrs. taylor had actually written on this very point, and the warmth and fervour of mill's denunciations of women's servitude were unmistakably caught from his wife's view of the practical disabilities entailed by the feminine position. iii. _liberty_ was published in , when the nineteenth century was half over, but in its general spirit and in some of its special tendencies the little tract belongs rather to the standpoint of the eighteenth century than to that which saw its birth. in many of his speculations john stuart mill forms a sort of connecting link between the doctrines of the earlier english empirical school and those which we associate with the name of mr. herbert spencer. in his _logic_, for instance, he represents an advance on the theories of hume, and yet does not see how profoundly the victories of science modify the conclusions of the earlier thinker. similarly, in his _political economy_, he desires to improve and to enlarge upon ricardo, and yet does not advance so far as the modifications of political economy by sociology, indicated by some later--and especially german--speculations on the subject. in the tract on _liberty_, mill is advocating the rights of the individual as against society at the very opening of an era that was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the individual had no absolute rights against society. the eighteenth century view is that individuals existed first, each with their own special claims and responsibilities; that they deliberately formed a social state, either by a contract or otherwise; and that then finally they limited their own action out of regard for the interests of the social organism thus arbitrarily produced. this is hardly the view of the nineteenth century. it is possible that logically the individual is prior to the state; historically and in the order of nature, the state is prior to the individual. in other words, such rights as every single personality possesses in a modern world do not belong to him by an original ordinance of nature, but are slowly acquired in the growth and development of the social state. it is not the truth that individual liberties were forfeited by some deliberate act when men made themselves into a commonwealth. it is more true to say, as aristotle said long ago, that man is naturally a political animal, that he lived under strict social laws as a mere item, almost a nonentity, as compared with the order, society, or community to which he belonged, and that such privileges as he subsequently acquired have been obtained in virtue of his growing importance as a member of a growing organisation. but if this is even approximately true, it seriously restricts that liberty of the individual for which mill pleads. the individual has no chance, because he has no rights, against the social organism. society can punish him for acts or even opinions which are anti-social in character. his virtue lies in recognising the intimate communion with his fellows. his sphere of activity is bounded by the common interest. just as it is an absurd and exploded theory that all men are originally equal, so it is an ancient and false doctrine to protest that a man has an individual liberty to live and think as he chooses in any spirit of antagonism to that larger body of which he forms an insignificant part. nowadays this view of society and of its development, which we largely owe to the _philosophie positive_ of m. auguste comte, is so familiar and possibly so damaging to the individual initiative, that it becomes necessary to advance and proclaim the truth which resides in an opposite theory. all progress, as we are aware, depends on the joint process of integration and differentiation; synthesis, analysis, and then a larger synthesis seem to form the law of development. if it ever comes to pass that society is tyrannical in its restrictions of the individual, if, as for instance in some forms of socialism, based on deceptive analogies of nature's dealings, the type is everything and the individual nothing, it must be confidently urged in answer that the fuller life of the future depends on the manifold activities, even though they may be antagonistic, of the individual. in england, at all events, we know that government in all its different forms, whether as king, or as a caste of nobles, or as an oligarchical plutocracy, or even as trades unions, is so dwarfing in its action that, for the sake of the future, the individual must revolt. just as our former point of view limited the value of mill's treatise on _liberty_, so these considerations tend to show its eternal importance. the omnipotence of society means a dead level of uniformity. the claim of the individual to be heard, to say what he likes, to do what he likes, to live as he likes, is absolutely necessary, not only for the variety of elements without which life is poor, but also for the hope of a future age. so long as individual initiative and effort are recognised as a vital element in english history, so long will mill's _liberty_, which he confesses was based on a suggestion derived from von humboldt, remain as an indispensable contribution to the speculations, and also to the health and sanity, of the world. what his wife really was to mill, we shall, perhaps, never know. but that she was an actual and vivid force, which roused the latent enthusiasm of his nature, we have abundant evidence. and when she died at avignon, though his friends may have regained an almost estranged companionship, mill was, personally, the poorer. into the sorrow of that bereavement we cannot enter: we have no right or power to draw the veil. it is enough to quote the simple words, so eloquent of an unspoken grief--"i can say nothing which could describe, even in the faintest manner, what that loss was and is. but because i know that she would have wished it, i endeavour to make the best of what life i have left, and to work for her purposes with such diminished strength as can be derived from thoughts of her, and communion with her memory." w. l. courtney. london, _july th, _. footnotes: [ ] _life of john stuart mill_, chapter vi. (walter scott.) [ ] _autobiography_, p. . [ ] _ibid._, p. . [ ] _autobiography_, pp. , . [ ] cf. an instructive page in the _autobiography_, p. . contents. chapter i. page introductory chapter ii. of the liberty of thought and discussion chapter iii. of individuality, as one of the elements of well-being chapter iv. of the limits to the authority of society over the individual chapter v. applications the grand, leading principle, towards which every argument unfolded in these pages directly converges, is the absolute and essential importance of human development in its richest diversity.--wilhelm von humboldt: _sphere and duties of government_. on liberty. chapter i. introductory. the subject of this essay is not the so-called liberty of the will, so unfortunately opposed to the misnamed doctrine of philosophical necessity; but civil, or social liberty: the nature and limits of the power which can be legitimately exercised by society over the individual. a question seldom stated, and hardly ever discussed, in general terms, but which profoundly influences the practical controversies of the age by its latent presence, and is likely soon to make itself recognised as the vital question of the future. it is so far from being new, that in a certain sense, it has divided mankind, almost from the remotest ages; but in the stage of progress into which the more civilised portions of the species have now entered, it presents itself under new conditions, and requires a different and more fundamental treatment. the struggle between liberty and authority is the most conspicuous feature in the portions of history with which we are earliest familiar, particularly in that of greece, rome, and england. but in old times this contest was between subjects, or some classes of subjects, and the government. by liberty, was meant protection against the tyranny of the political rulers. the rulers were conceived (except in some of the popular governments of greece) as in a necessarily antagonistic position to the people whom they ruled. they consisted of a governing one, or a governing tribe or caste, who derived their authority from inheritance or conquest, who, at all events, did not hold it at the pleasure of the governed, and whose supremacy men did not venture, perhaps did not desire, to contest, whatever precautions might be taken against its oppressive exercise. their power was regarded as necessary, but also as highly dangerous; as a weapon which they would attempt to use against their subjects, no less than against external enemies. to prevent the weaker members of the community from being preyed upon by innumerable vultures, it was needful that there should be an animal of prey stronger than the rest, commissioned to keep them down. but as the king of the vultures would be no less bent upon preying on the flock than any of the minor harpies, it was indispensable to be in a perpetual attitude of defence against his beak and claws. the aim, therefore, of patriots, was to set limits to the power which the ruler should be suffered to exercise over the community; and this limitation was what they meant by liberty. it was attempted in two ways. first, by obtaining a recognition of certain immunities, called political liberties or rights, which it was to be regarded as a breach of duty in the ruler to infringe, and which if he did infringe, specific resistance, or general rebellion, was held to be justifiable. a second, and generally a later expedient, was the establishment of constitutional checks; by which the consent of the community, or of a body of some sort, supposed to represent its interests, was made a necessary condition to some of the more important acts of the governing power. to the first of these modes of limitation, the ruling power, in most european countries, was compelled, more or less, to submit. it was not so with the second; and to attain this, or when already in some degree possessed, to attain it more completely, became everywhere the principal object of the lovers of liberty. and so long as mankind were content to combat one enemy by another, and to be ruled by a master, on condition of being guaranteed more or less efficaciously against his tyranny, they did not carry their aspirations beyond this point. a time, however, came, in the progress of human affairs, when men ceased to think it a necessity of nature that their governors should be an independent power, opposed in interest to themselves. it appeared to them much better that the various magistrates of the state should be their tenants or delegates, revocable at their pleasure. in that way alone, it seemed, could they have complete security that the powers of government would never be abused to their disadvantage. by degrees, this new demand for elective and temporary rulers became the prominent object of the exertions of the popular party, wherever any such party existed; and superseded, to a considerable extent, the previous efforts to limit the power of rulers. as the struggle proceeded for making the ruling power emanate from the periodical choice of the ruled, some persons began to think that too much importance had been attached to the limitation of the power itself. _that_ (it might seem) was a resource against rulers whose interests were habitually opposed to those of the people. what was now wanted was, that the rulers should be identified with the people; that their interest and will should be the interest and will of the nation. the nation did not need to be protected against its own will. there was no fear of its tyrannising over itself. let the rulers be effectually responsible to it, promptly removable by it, and it could afford to trust them with power of which it could itself dictate the use to be made. their power was but the nation's own power, concentrated, and in a form convenient for exercise. this mode of thought, or rather perhaps of feeling, was common among the last generation of european liberalism, in the continental section of which it still apparently predominates. those who admit any limit to what a government may do, except in the case of such governments as they think ought not to exist, stand out as brilliant exceptions among the political thinkers of the continent. a similar tone of sentiment might by this time have been prevalent in our own country, if the circumstances which for a time encouraged it, had continued unaltered. but, in political and philosophical theories, as well as in persons, success discloses faults and infirmities which failure might have concealed from observation. the notion, that the people have no need to limit their power over themselves, might seem axiomatic, when popular government was a thing only dreamed about, or read of as having existed at some distant period of the past. neither was that notion necessarily disturbed by such temporary aberrations as those of the french revolution, the worst of which were the work of a usurping few, and which, in any case, belonged, not to the permanent working of popular institutions, but to a sudden and convulsive outbreak against monarchical and aristocratic despotism. in time, however, a democratic republic came to occupy a large portion of the earth's surface, and made itself felt as one of the most powerful members of the community of nations; and elective and responsible government became subject to the observations and criticisms which wait upon a great existing fact. it was now perceived that such phrases as "self-government," and "the power of the people over themselves," do not express the true state of the case. the "people" who exercise the power are not always the same people with those over whom it is exercised; and the "self-government" spoken of is not the government of each by himself, but of each by all the rest. the will of the people, moreover, practically means, the will of the most numerous or the most active _part_ of the people; the majority, or those who succeed in making themselves accepted as the majority: the people, consequently, _may_ desire to oppress a part of their number; and precautions are as much needed against this, as against any other abuse of power. the limitation, therefore, of the power of government over individuals, loses none of its importance when the holders of power are regularly accountable to the community, that is, to the strongest party therein. this view of things, recommending itself equally to the intelligence of thinkers and to the inclination of those important classes in european society to whose real or supposed interests democracy is adverse, has had no difficulty in establishing itself; and in political speculations "the tyranny of the majority" is now generally included among the evils against which society requires to be on its guard. like other tyrannies, the tyranny of the majority was at first, and is still vulgarly, held in dread, chiefly as operating through the acts of the public authorities. but reflecting persons perceived that when society is itself the tyrant--society collectively, over the separate individuals who compose it--its means of tyrannising are not restricted to the acts which it may do by the hands of its political functionaries. society can and does execute its own mandates: and if it issues wrong mandates instead of right, or any mandates at all in things with which it ought not to meddle, it practises a social tyranny more formidable than many kinds of political oppression, since, though not usually upheld by such extreme penalties, it leaves fewer means of escape, penetrating much more deeply into the details of life, and enslaving the soul itself. protection, therefore, against the tyranny of the magistrate is not enough: there needs protection also against the tyranny of the prevailing opinion and feeling; against the tendency of society to impose, by other means than civil penalties, its own ideas and practices as rules of conduct on those who dissent from them; to fetter the development, and, if possible, prevent the formation, of any individuality not in harmony with its ways, and compel all characters to fashion themselves upon the model of its own. there is a limit to the legitimate interference of collective opinion with individual independence: and to find that limit, and maintain it against encroachment, is as indispensable to a good condition of human affairs, as protection against political despotism. but though this proposition is not likely to be contested in general terms, the practical question, where to place the limit--how to make the fitting adjustment between individual independence and social control--is a subject on which nearly everything remains to be done. all that makes existence valuable to any one, depends on the enforcement of restraints upon the actions of other people. some rules of conduct, therefore, must be imposed, by law in the first place, and by opinion on many things which are not fit subjects for the operation of law. what these rules should be, is the principal question in human affairs; but if we except a few of the most obvious cases, it is one of those which least progress has been made in resolving. no two ages, and scarcely any two countries, have decided it alike; and the decision of one age or country is a wonder to another. yet the people of any given age and country no more suspect any difficulty in it, than if it were a subject on which mankind had always been agreed. the rules which obtain among themselves appear to them self-evident and self-justifying. this all but universal illusion is one of the examples of the magical influence of custom, which is not only, as the proverb says, a second nature, but is continually mistaken for the first. the effect of custom, in preventing any misgiving respecting the rules of conduct which mankind impose on one another, is all the more complete because the subject is one on which it is not generally considered necessary that reasons should be given, either by one person to others, or by each to himself. people are accustomed to believe, and have been encouraged in the belief by some who aspire to the character of philosophers, that their feelings, on subjects of this nature, are better than reasons, and render reasons unnecessary. the practical principle which guides them to their opinions on the regulation of human conduct, is the feeling in each person's mind that everybody should be required to act as he, and those with whom he sympathises, would like them to act. no one, indeed, acknowledges to himself that his standard of judgment is his own liking; but an opinion on a point of conduct, not supported by reasons, can only count as one person's preference; and if the reasons, when given, are a mere appeal to a similar preference felt by other people, it is still only many people's liking instead of one. to an ordinary man, however, his own preference, thus supported, is not only a perfectly satisfactory reason, but the only one he generally has for any of his notions of morality, taste, or propriety, which are not expressly written in his religious creed; and his chief guide in the interpretation even of that. men's opinions, accordingly, on what is laudable or blamable, are affected by all the multifarious causes which influence their wishes in regard to the conduct of others, and which are as numerous as those which determine their wishes on any other subject. sometimes their reason--at other times their prejudices or superstitions: often their social affections, not seldom their anti-social ones, their envy or jealousy, their arrogance or contemptuousness: but most commonly, their desires or fears for themselves--their legitimate or illegitimate self-interest. wherever there is an ascendant class, a large portion of the morality of the country emanates from its class interests, and its feelings of class superiority. the morality between spartans and helots, between planters and negroes, between princes and subjects, between nobles and roturiers, between men and women, has been for the most part the creation of these class interests and feelings: and the sentiments thus generated, react in turn upon the moral feelings of the members of the ascendant class, in their relations among themselves. where, on the other hand, a class, formerly ascendant, has lost its ascendancy, or where its ascendancy is unpopular, the prevailing moral sentiments frequently bear the impress of an impatient dislike of superiority. another grand determining principle of the rules of conduct, both in act and forbearance, which have been enforced by law or opinion, has been the servility of mankind towards the supposed preferences or aversions of their temporal masters, or of their gods. this servility, though essentially selfish, is not hypocrisy; it gives rise to perfectly genuine sentiments of abhorrence; it made men burn magicians and heretics. among so many baser influences, the general and obvious interests of society have of course had a share, and a large one, in the direction of the moral sentiments: less, however, as a matter of reason, and on their own account, than as a consequence of the sympathies and antipathies which grew out of them: and sympathies and antipathies which had little or nothing to do with the interests of society, have made themselves felt in the establishment of moralities with quite as great force. the likings and dislikings of society, or of some powerful portion of it, are thus the main thing which has practically determined the rules laid down for general observance, under the penalties of law or opinion. and in general, those who have been in advance of society in thought and feeling have left this condition of things unassailed in principle, however they may have come into conflict with it in some of its details. they have occupied themselves rather in inquiring what things society ought to like or dislike, than in questioning whether its likings or dislikings should be a law to individuals. they preferred endeavouring to alter the feelings of mankind on the particular points on which they were themselves heretical, rather than make common cause in defence of freedom, with heretics generally. the only case in which the higher ground has been taken on principle and maintained with consistency, by any but an individual here and there, is that of religious belief: a case instructive in many ways, and not least so as forming a most striking instance of the fallibility of what is called the moral sense: for the _odium theologicum_, in a sincere bigot, is one of the most unequivocal cases of moral feeling. those who first broke the yoke of what called itself the universal church, were in general as little willing to permit difference of religious opinion as that church itself. but when the heat of the conflict was over, without giving a complete victory to any party, and each church or sect was reduced to limit its hopes to retaining possession of the ground it already occupied; minorities, seeing that they had no chance of becoming majorities, were under the necessity of pleading to those whom they could not convert, for permission to differ. it is accordingly on this battle-field, almost solely, that the rights of the individual against society have been asserted on broad grounds of principle, and the claim of society to exercise authority over dissentients, openly controverted. the great writers to whom the world owes what religious liberty it possesses, have mostly asserted freedom of conscience as an indefeasible right, and denied absolutely that a human being is accountable to others for his religious belief. yet so natural to mankind is intolerance in whatever they really care about, that religious freedom has hardly anywhere been practically realised, except where religious indifference, which dislikes to have its peace disturbed by theological quarrels, has added its weight to the scale. in the minds of almost all religious persons, even in the most tolerant countries, the duty of toleration is admitted with tacit reserves. one person will bear with dissent in matters of church government, but not of dogma; another can tolerate everybody, short of a papist or a unitarian; another, every one who believes in revealed religion; a few extend their charity a little further, but stop at the belief in a god and in a future state. wherever the sentiment of the majority is still genuine and intense, it is found to have abated little of its claim to be obeyed. in england, from the peculiar circumstances of our political history, though the yoke of opinion is perhaps heavier, that of law is lighter, than in most other countries of europe; and there is considerable jealousy of direct interference, by the legislative or the executive power, with private conduct; not so much from any just regard for the independence of the individual, as from the still subsisting habit of looking on the government as representing an opposite interest to the public. the majority have not yet learnt to feel the power of the government their power, or its opinions their opinions. when they do so, individual liberty will probably be as much exposed to invasion from the government, as it already is from public opinion. but, as yet, there is a considerable amount of feeling ready to be called forth against any attempt of the law to control individuals in things in which they have not hitherto been accustomed to be controlled by it; and this with very little discrimination as to whether the matter is, or is not, within the legitimate sphere of legal control; insomuch that the feeling, highly salutary on the whole, is perhaps quite as often misplaced as well grounded in the particular instances of its application. there is, in fact, no recognised principle by which the propriety or impropriety of government interference is customarily tested. people decide according to their personal preferences. some, whenever they see any good to be done, or evil to be remedied, would willingly instigate the government to undertake the business; while others prefer to bear almost any amount of social evil, rather than add one to the departments of human interests amenable to governmental control. and men range themselves on one or the other side in any particular case, according to this general direction of their sentiments; or according to the degree of interest which they feel in the particular thing which it is proposed that the government should do, or according to the belief they entertain that the government would, or would not, do it in the manner they prefer; but very rarely on account of any opinion to which they consistently adhere, as to what things are fit to be done by a government. and it seems to me that in consequence of this absence of rule or principle, one side is at present as often wrong as the other; the interference of government is, with about equal frequency, improperly invoked and improperly condemned. the object of this essay is to assert one very simple principle, as entitled to govern absolutely the dealings of society with the individual in the way of compulsion and control, whether the means used be physical force in the form of legal penalties, or the moral coercion of public opinion. that principle is, that the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection. that the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilised community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. his own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant. he cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinions of others, to do so would be wise, or even right. these are good reasons for remonstrating with him, or reasoning with him, or persuading him, or entreating him, but not for compelling him, or visiting him with any evil in case he do otherwise. to justify that, the conduct from which it is desired to deter him must be calculated to produce evil to some one else. the only part of the conduct of any one, for which he is amenable to society, is that which concerns others. in the part which merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign. it is, perhaps, hardly necessary to say that this doctrine is meant to apply only to human beings in the maturity of their faculties. we are not speaking of children, or of young persons below the age which the law may fix as that of manhood or womanhood. those who are still in a state to require being taken care of by others, must be protected against their own actions as well as against external injury. for the same reason, we may leave out of consideration those backward states of society in which the race itself may be considered as in its nonage. the early difficulties in the way of spontaneous progress are so great, that there is seldom any choice of means for overcoming them; and a ruler full of the spirit of improvement is warranted in the use of any expedients that will attain an end, perhaps otherwise unattainable. despotism is a legitimate mode of government in dealing with barbarians, provided the end be their improvement, and the means justified by actually effecting that end. liberty, as a principle, has no application to any state of things anterior to the time when mankind have become capable of being improved by free and equal discussion. until then, there is nothing for them but implicit obedience to an akbar or a charlemagne, if they are so fortunate as to find one. but as soon as mankind have attained the capacity of being guided to their own improvement by conviction or persuasion (a period long since reached in all nations with whom we need here concern ourselves), compulsion, either in the direct form or in that of pains and penalties for non-compliance, is no longer admissible as a means to their own good, and justifiable only for the security of others. it is proper to state that i forego any advantage which could be derived to my argument from the idea of abstract right, as a thing independent of utility. i regard utility as the ultimate appeal on all ethical questions; but it must be utility in the largest sense, grounded on the permanent interests of man as a progressive being. those interests, i contend, authorise the subjection of individual spontaneity to external control, only in respect to those actions of each, which concern the interest of other people. if any one does an act hurtful to others, there is a _primâ facie_ case for punishing him, by law, or, where legal penalties are not safely applicable, by general disapprobation. there are also many positive acts for the benefit of others, which he may rightfully be compelled to perform; such as, to give evidence in a court of justice; to bear his fair share in the common defence, or in any other joint work necessary to the interest of the society of which he enjoys the protection; and to perform certain acts of individual beneficence, such as saving a fellow-creature's life, or interposing to protect the defenceless against ill-usage, things which whenever it is obviously a man's duty to do, he may rightfully be made responsible to society for not doing. a person may cause evil to others not only by his actions but by his inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable to them for the injury. the latter case, it is true, requires a much more cautious exercise of compulsion than the former. to make any one answerable for doing evil to others, is the rule; to make him answerable for not preventing evil, is, comparatively speaking, the exception. yet there are many cases clear enough and grave enough to justify that exception. in all things which regard the external relations of the individual, he is _de jure_ amenable to those whose interests are concerned, and if need be, to society as their protector. there are often good reasons for not holding him to the responsibility; but these reasons must arise from the special expediencies of the case: either because it is a kind of case in which he is on the whole likely to act better, when left to his own discretion, than when controlled in any way in which society have it in their power to control him; or because the attempt to exercise control would produce other evils, greater than those which it would prevent. when such reasons as these preclude the enforcement of responsibility, the conscience of the agent himself should step into the vacant judgment seat, and protect those interests of others which have no external protection; judging himself all the more rigidly, because the case does not admit of his being made accountable to the judgment of his fellow-creatures. but there is a sphere of action in which society, as distinguished from the individual, has, if any, only an indirect interest; comprehending all that portion of a person's life and conduct which affects only himself, or if it also affects others, only with their free, voluntary, and undeceived consent and participation. when i say only himself, i mean directly, and in the first instance: for whatever affects himself, may affect others _through_ himself; and the objection which may be grounded on this contingency, will receive consideration in the sequel. this, then, is the appropriate region of human liberty. it comprises, first, the inward domain of consciousness; demanding liberty of conscience, in the most comprehensive sense; liberty of thought and feeling; absolute freedom of opinion and sentiment on all subjects, practical or speculative, scientific, moral, or theological. the liberty of expressing and publishing opinions may seem to fall under a different principle, since it belongs to that part of the conduct of an individual which concerns other people; but, being almost of as much importance as the liberty of thought itself, and resting in great part on the same reasons, is practically inseparable from it. secondly, the principle requires liberty of tastes and pursuits; of framing the plan of our life to suit our own character; of doing as we like, subject to such consequences as may follow: without impediment from our fellow-creatures, so long as what we do does not harm them, even though they should think our conduct foolish, perverse, or wrong. thirdly, from this liberty of each individual, follows the liberty, within the same limits, of combination among individuals; freedom to unite, for any purpose not involving harm to others: the persons combining being supposed to be of full age, and not forced or deceived. no society in which these liberties are not, on the whole, respected, is free, whatever may be its form of government; and none is completely free in which they do not exist absolute and unqualified. the only freedom which deserves the name, is that of pursuing our own good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of theirs, or impede their efforts to obtain it. each is the proper guardian of his own health, whether bodily, or mental and spiritual. mankind are greater gainers by suffering each other to live as seems good to themselves, than by compelling each to live as seems good to the rest. though this doctrine is anything but new, and, to some persons, may have the air of a truism, there is no doctrine which stands more directly opposed to the general tendency of existing opinion and practice. society has expended fully as much effort in the attempt (according to its lights) to compel people to conform to its notions of personal, as of social excellence. the ancient commonwealths thought themselves entitled to practise, and the ancient philosophers countenanced, the regulation of every part of private conduct by public authority, on the ground that the state had a deep interest in the whole bodily and mental discipline of every one of its citizens; a mode of thinking which may have been admissible in small republics surrounded by powerful enemies, in constant peril of being subverted by foreign attack or internal commotion, and to which even a short interval of relaxed energy and self-command might so easily be fatal, that they could not afford to wait for the salutary permanent effects of freedom. in the modern world, the greater size of political communities, and above all, the separation between spiritual and temporal authority (which placed the direction of men's consciences in other hands than those which controlled their worldly affairs), prevented so great an interference by law in the details of private life; but the engines of moral repression have been wielded more strenuously against divergence from the reigning opinion in self-regarding, than even in social matters; religion, the most powerful of the elements which have entered into the formation of moral feeling, having almost always been governed either by the ambition of a hierarchy, seeking control over every department of human conduct, or by the spirit of puritanism. and some of those modern reformers who have placed themselves in strongest opposition to the religions of the past, have been noway behind either churches or sects in their assertion of the right of spiritual domination: m. comte, in particular, whose social system, as unfolded in his _traité de politique positive_, aims at establishing (though by moral more than by legal appliances) a despotism of society over the individual, surpassing anything contemplated in the political ideal of the most rigid disciplinarian among the ancient philosophers. apart from the peculiar tenets of individual thinkers, there is also in the world at large an increasing inclination to stretch unduly the powers of society over the individual, both by the force of opinion and even by that of legislation: and as the tendency of all the changes taking place in the world is to strengthen society, and diminish the power of the individual, this encroachment is not one of the evils which tend spontaneously to disappear, but, on the contrary, to grow more and more formidable. the disposition of mankind, whether as rulers or as fellow-citizens to impose their own opinions and inclinations as a rule of conduct on others, is so energetically supported by some of the best and by some of the worst feelings incident to human nature, that it is hardly ever kept under restraint by anything but want of power; and as the power is not declining, but growing, unless a strong barrier of moral conviction can be raised against the mischief, we must expect, in the present circumstances of the world, to see it increase. it will be convenient for the argument, if, instead of at once entering upon the general thesis, we confine ourselves in the first instance to a single branch of it, on which the principle here stated is, if not fully, yet to a certain point, recognised by the current opinions. this one branch is the liberty of thought: from which it is impossible to separate the cognate liberty of speaking and of writing. although these liberties, to some considerable amount, form part of the political morality of all countries which profess religious toleration and free institutions, the grounds, both philosophical and practical, on which they rest, are perhaps not so familiar to the general mind, nor so thoroughly appreciated by many even of the leaders of opinion, as might have been expected. those grounds, when rightly understood, are of much wider application than to only one division of the subject, and a thorough consideration of this part of the question will be found the best introduction to the remainder. those to whom nothing which i am about to say will be new, may therefore, i hope, excuse me, if on a subject which for now three centuries has been so often discussed, i venture on one discussion more. chapter ii. of the liberty of thought and discussion. the time, it is to be hoped, is gone by, when any defence would be necessary of the "liberty of the press" as one of the securities against corrupt or tyrannical government. no argument, we may suppose, can now be needed, against permitting a legislature or an executive, not identified in interest with the people, to prescribe opinions to them, and determine what doctrines or what arguments they shall be allowed to hear. this aspect of the question, besides, has been so often and so triumphantly enforced by preceding writers, that it need not be specially insisted on in this place. though the law of england, on the subject of the press, is as servile to this day as it was in the time of the tudors, there is little danger of its being actually put in force against political discussion, except during some temporary panic, when fear of insurrection drives ministers and judges from their propriety;[ ] and, speaking generally, it is not, in constitutional countries, to be apprehended that the government, whether completely responsible to the people or not, will often attempt to control the expression of opinion, except when in doing so it makes itself the organ of the general intolerance of the public. let us suppose, therefore, that the government is entirely at one with the people, and never thinks of exerting any power of coercion unless in agreement with what it conceives to be their voice. but i deny the right of the people to exercise such coercion, either by themselves or by their government. the power itself is illegitimate. the best government has no more title to it than the worst. it is as noxious, or more noxious, when exerted in accordance with public opinion, than when in or opposition to it. if all mankind minus one, were of one opinion, and only one person were of the contrary opinion, mankind would be no more justified in silencing that one person, than he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind. were an opinion a personal possession of no value except to the owner; if to be obstructed in the enjoyment of it were simply a private injury, it would make some difference whether the injury was inflicted only on a few persons or on many. but the peculiar evil of silencing the expression of an opinion is, that it is robbing the human race; posterity as well as the existing generation; those who dissent from the opinion, still more than those who hold it. if the opinion is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth: if wrong, they lose, what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error. it is necessary to consider separately these two hypotheses, each of which has a distinct branch of the argument corresponding to it. we can never be sure that the opinion we are endeavouring to stifle is a false opinion; and if we were sure, stifling it would be an evil still. first: the opinion which it is attempted to suppress by authority may possibly be true. those who desire to suppress it, of course deny its truth; but they are not infallible. they have no authority to decide the question for all mankind, and exclude every other person from the means of judging. to refuse a hearing to an opinion, because they are sure that it is false, is to assume that _their_ certainty is the same thing as _absolute_ certainty. all silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility. its condemnation may be allowed to rest on this common argument, not the worse for being common. unfortunately for the good sense of mankind, the fact of their fallibility is far from carrying the weight in their practical judgment, which is always allowed to it in theory; for while every one well knows himself to be fallible, few think it necessary to take any precautions against their own fallibility, or admit the supposition that any opinion, of which they feel very certain, may be one of the examples of the error to which they acknowledge themselves to be liable. absolute princes, or others who are accustomed to unlimited deference, usually feel this complete confidence in their own opinions on nearly all subjects. people more happily situated, who sometimes hear their opinions disputed, and are not wholly unused to be set right when they are wrong, place the same unbounded reliance only on such of their opinions as are shared by all who surround them, or to whom they habitually defer: for in proportion to a man's want of confidence in his own solitary judgment, does he usually repose, with implicit trust, on the infallibility of "the world" in general. and the world, to each individual, means the part of it with which he comes in contact; his party, his sect, his church, his class of society: the man may be called, by comparison, almost liberal and large-minded to whom it means anything so comprehensive as his own country or his own age. nor is his faith in this collective authority at all shaken by his being aware that other ages, countries, sects, churches, classes, and parties have thought, and even now think, the exact reverse. he devolves upon his own world the responsibility of being in the right against the dissentient worlds of other people; and it never troubles him that mere accident has decided which of these numerous worlds is the object of his reliance, and that the same causes which make him a churchman in london, would have made him a buddhist or a confucian in pekin. yet it is as evident in itself as any amount of argument can make it, that ages are no more infallible than individuals; every age having held many opinions which subsequent ages have deemed not only false but absurd; and it is as certain that many opinions, now general, will be rejected by future ages, as it is that many, once general, are rejected by the present. the objection likely to be made to this argument, would probably take some such form as the following. there is no greater assumption of infallibility in forbidding the propagation of error, than in any other thing which is done by public authority on its own judgment and responsibility. judgment is given to men that they may use it. because it may be used erroneously, are men to be told that they ought not to use it at all? to prohibit what they think pernicious, is not claiming exemption from error, but fulfilling the duty incumbent on them, although fallible, of acting on their conscientious conviction. if we were never to act on our opinions, because those opinions may be wrong, we should leave all our interests uncared for, and all our duties unperformed. an objection which applies to all conduct, can be no valid objection to any conduct in particular. it is the duty of governments, and of individuals, to form the truest opinions they can; to form them carefully, and never impose them upon others unless they are quite sure of being right. but when they are sure (such reasoners may say), it is not conscientiousness but cowardice to shrink from acting on their opinions, and allow doctrines which they honestly think dangerous to the welfare of mankind, either in this life or in another, to be scattered abroad without restraint, because other people, in less enlightened times, have persecuted opinions now believed to be true. let us take care, it may be said, not to make the same mistake: but governments and nations have made mistakes in other things, which are not denied to be fit subjects for the exercise of authority: they have laid on bad taxes, made unjust wars. ought we therefore to lay on no taxes, and, under whatever provocation, make no wars? men, and governments, must act to the best of their ability. there is no such thing as absolute certainty, but there is assurance sufficient for the purposes of human life. we may, and must, assume our opinion to be true for the guidance of our own conduct: and it is assuming no more when we forbid bad men to pervert society by the propagation of opinions which we regard as false and pernicious. i answer that it is assuming very much more. there is the greatest difference between presuming an opinion to be true, because, with every opportunity for contesting it, it has not been refuted, and assuming its truth for the purpose of not permitting its refutation. complete liberty of contradicting and disproving our opinion, is the very condition which justifies us in assuming its truth for purposes of action; and on no other terms can a being with human faculties have any rational assurance of being right. when we consider either the history of opinion, or the ordinary conduct of human life, to what is it to be ascribed that the one and the other are no worse than they are? not certainly to the inherent force of the human understanding; for, on any matter not self-evident, there are ninety-nine persons totally incapable of judging of it, for one who is capable; and the capacity of the hundredth person is only comparative; for the majority of the eminent men of every past generation held many opinions now known to be erroneous, and did or approved numerous things which no one will now justify. why is it, then, that there is on the whole a preponderance among mankind of rational opinions and rational conduct? if there really is this preponderance--which there must be, unless human affairs are, and have always been, in an almost desperate state--it is owing to a quality of the human mind, the source of everything respectable in man either as an intellectual or as a moral being, namely, that his errors are corrigible. he is capable of rectifying his mistakes, by discussion and experience. not by experience alone. there must be discussion, to show how experience is to be interpreted. wrong opinions and practices gradually yield to fact and argument: but facts and arguments, to produce any effect on the mind, must be brought before it. very few facts are able to tell their own story, without comments to bring out their meaning. the whole strength and value, then, of human judgment, depending on the one property, that it can be set right when it is wrong, reliance can be placed on it only when the means of setting it right are kept constantly at hand. in the case of any person whose judgment is really deserving of confidence, how has it become so? because he has kept his mind open to criticism of his opinions and conduct. because it has been his practice to listen to all that could be said against him; to profit by as much of it as was just, and expound to himself, and upon occasion to others, the fallacy of what was fallacious. because he has felt, that the only way in which a human being can make some approach to knowing the whole of a subject, is by hearing what can be said about it by persons of every variety of opinion, and studying all modes in which it can be looked at by every character of mind. no wise man ever acquired his wisdom in any mode but this; nor is it in the nature of human intellect to become wise in any other manner. the steady habit of correcting and completing his own opinion by collating it with those of others, so far from causing doubt and hesitation in carrying it into practice, is the only stable foundation for a just reliance on it: for, being cognisant of all that can, at least obviously, be said against him, and having taken up his position against all gainsayers--knowing that he has sought for objections and difficulties, instead of avoiding them, and has shut out no light which can be thrown upon the subject from any quarter--he has a right to think his judgment better than that of any person, or any multitude, who have not gone through a similar process. it is not too much to require that what the wisest of mankind, those who are best entitled to trust their own judgment, find necessary to warrant their relying on it, should be submitted to by that miscellaneous collection of a few wise and many foolish individuals, called the public. the most intolerant of churches, the roman catholic church, even at the canonisation of a saint, admits, and listens patiently to, a "devil's advocate." the holiest of men, it appears, cannot be admitted to posthumous honours, until all that the devil could say against him is known and weighed. if even the newtonian philosophy were not permitted to be questioned, mankind could not feel as complete assurance of its truth as they now do. the beliefs which we have most warrant for, have no safeguard to rest on, but a standing invitation to the whole world to prove them unfounded. if the challenge is not accepted, or is accepted and the attempt fails, we are far enough from certainty still; but we have done the best that the existing state of human reason admits of; we have neglected nothing that could give the truth a chance of reaching us: if the lists are kept open, we may hope that if there be a better truth, it will be found when the human mind is capable of receiving it; and in the meantime we may rely on having attained such approach to truth, as is possible in our own day. this is the amount of certainty attainable by a fallible being, and this the sole way of attaining it. strange it is, that men should admit the validity of the arguments for free discussion, but object to their being "pushed to an extreme;" not seeing that unless the reasons are good for an extreme case, they are not good for any case. strange that they should imagine that they are not assuming infallibility, when they acknowledge that there should be free discussion on all subjects which can possibly be _doubtful_, but think that some particular principle or doctrine should be forbidden to be questioned because it is _so certain_, that is, because _they are certain_ that it is certain. to call any proposition certain, while there is any one who would deny its certainty if permitted, but who is not permitted, is to assume that we ourselves, and those who agree with us, are the judges of certainty, and judges without hearing the other side. in the present age--which has been described as "destitute of faith, but terrified at scepticism"--in which people feel sure, not so much that their opinions are true, as that they should not know what to do without them--the claims of an opinion to be protected from public attack are rested not so much on its truth, as on its importance to society. there are, it is alleged, certain beliefs, so useful, not to say indispensable to well-being, that it is as much the duty of governments to uphold those beliefs, as to protect any other of the interests of society. in a case of such necessity, and so directly in the line of their duty, something less than infallibility may, it is maintained, warrant, and even bind, governments, to act on their own opinion, confirmed by the general opinion of mankind. it is also often argued, and still oftener thought, that none but bad men would desire to weaken these salutary beliefs; and there can be nothing wrong, it is thought, in restraining bad men, and prohibiting what only such men would wish to practise. this mode of thinking makes the justification of restraints on discussion not a question of the truth of doctrines, but of their usefulness; and flatters itself by that means to escape the responsibility of claiming to be an infallible judge of opinions. but those who thus satisfy themselves, do not perceive that the assumption of infallibility is merely shifted from one point to another. the usefulness of an opinion is itself matter of opinion: as disputable, as open to discussion, and requiring discussion as much, as the opinion itself. there is the same need of an infallible judge of opinions to decide an opinion to be noxious, as to decide it to be false, unless the opinion condemned has full opportunity of defending itself. and it will not do to say that the heretic may be allowed to maintain the utility or harmlessness of his opinion, though forbidden to maintain its truth. the truth of an opinion is part of its utility. if we would know whether or not it is desirable that a proposition should be believed, is it possible to exclude the consideration of whether or not it is true? in the opinion, not of bad men, but of the best men, no belief which is contrary to truth can be really useful: and can you prevent such men from urging that plea, when they are charged with culpability for denying some doctrine which they are told is useful, but which they believe to be false? those who are on the side of received opinions, never fail to take all possible advantage of this plea; you do not find _them_ handling the question of utility as if it could be completely abstracted from that of truth: on the contrary, it is, above all, because their doctrine is "the truth," that the knowledge or the belief of it is held to be so indispensable. there can be no fair discussion of the question of usefulness, when an argument so vital may be employed on one side, but not on the other. and in point of fact, when law or public feeling do not permit the truth of an opinion to be disputed, they are just as little tolerant of a denial of its usefulness. the utmost they allow is an extenuation of its absolute necessity, or of the positive guilt of rejecting it. in order more fully to illustrate the mischief of denying a hearing to opinions because we, in our own judgment, have condemned them, it will be desirable to fix down the discussion to a concrete case; and i choose, by preference, the cases which are least favourable to me--in which the argument against freedom of opinion, both on the score of truth and on that of utility, is considered the strongest. let the opinions impugned be the belief in a god and in a future state, or any of the commonly received doctrines of morality. to fight the battle on such ground, gives a great advantage to an unfair antagonist; since he will be sure to say (and many who have no desire to be unfair will say it internally), are these the doctrines which you do not deem sufficiently certain to be taken under the protection of law? is the belief in a god one of the opinions, to feel sure of which, you hold to be assuming infallibility? but i must be permitted to observe, that it is not the feeling sure of a doctrine (be it what it may) which i call an assumption of infallibility. it is the undertaking to decide that question _for others_, without allowing them to hear what can be said on the contrary side. and i denounce and reprobate this pretension not the less, if put forth on the side of my most solemn convictions. however positive any one's persuasion may be, not only of the falsity, but of the pernicious consequences--not only of the pernicious consequences, but (to adopt expressions which i altogether condemn) the immorality and impiety of an opinion; yet if, in pursuance of that private judgment, though backed by the public judgment of his country or his contemporaries, he prevents the opinion from being heard in its defence, he assumes infallibility. and so far from the assumption being less objectionable or less dangerous because the opinion is called immoral or impious, this is the case of all others in which it is most fatal. these are exactly the occasions on which the men of one generation commit those dreadful mistakes, which excite the astonishment and horror of posterity. it is among such that we find the instances memorable in history, when the arm of the law has been employed to root out the best men and the noblest doctrines; with deplorable success as to the men, though some of the doctrines have survived to be (as if in mockery) invoked, in defence of similar conduct towards those who dissent from _them_, or from their received interpretation. mankind can hardly be too often reminded that there was once a man named socrates, between whom and the legal authorities and public opinion of his time, there took place a memorable collision. born in an age and country abounding in individual greatness, this man has been handed down to us by those who best knew both him and the age, as the most virtuous man in it; while _we_ know him as the head and prototype of all subsequent teachers of virtue, the source equally of the lofty inspiration of plato and the judicious utilitarianism of aristotle, "_i maëstri di color che sanno_," the two headsprings of ethical as of all other philosophy. this acknowledged master of all the eminent thinkers who have since lived--whose fame, still growing after more than two thousand years, all but outweighs the whole remainder of the names which make his native city illustrious--was put to death by his countrymen, after a judicial conviction, for impiety and immorality. impiety, in denying the gods recognised by the state; indeed his accuser asserted (see the "apologia") that he believed in no gods at all. immorality, in being, by his doctrines and instructions, a "corruptor of youth." of these charges the tribunal, there is every ground for believing, honestly found him guilty, and condemned the man who probably of all then born had deserved best of mankind, to be put to death as a criminal. to pass from this to the only other instance of judicial iniquity, the mention of which, after the condemnation of socrates, would not be an anticlimax: the event which took place on calvary rather more than eighteen hundred years ago. the man who left on the memory of those who witnessed his life and conversation, such an impression of his moral grandeur, that eighteen subsequent centuries have done homage to him as the almighty in person, was ignominiously put to death, as what? as a blasphemer. men did not merely mistake their benefactor; they mistook him for the exact contrary of what he was, and treated him as that prodigy of impiety, which they themselves are now held to be, for their treatment of him. the feelings with which mankind now regard these lamentable transactions, especially the later of the two, render them extremely unjust in their judgment of the unhappy actors. these were, to all appearance, not bad men--not worse than men commonly are, but rather the contrary; men who possessed in a full, or somewhat more than a full measure, the religious, moral, and patriotic feelings of their time and people: the very kind of men who, in all times, our own included, have every chance of passing through life blameless and respected. the high-priest who rent his garments when the words were pronounced, which, according to all the ideas of his country, constituted the blackest guilt, was in all probability quite as sincere in his horror and indignation, as the generality of respectable and pious men now are in the religious and moral sentiments they profess; and most of those who now shudder at his conduct, if they had lived in his time, and been born jews, would have acted precisely as he did. orthodox christians who are tempted to think that those who stoned to death the first martyrs must have been worse men than they themselves are, ought to remember that one of those persecutors was saint paul. let us add one more example, the most striking of all, if the impressiveness of an error is measured by the wisdom and virtue of him who falls into it. if ever any one, possessed of power, had grounds for thinking himself the best and most enlightened among his cotemporaries, it was the emperor marcus aurelius. absolute monarch of the whole civilised world, he preserved through life not only the most unblemished justice, but what was less to be expected from his stoical breeding, the tenderest heart. the few failings which are attributed to him, were all on the side of indulgence: while his writings, the highest ethical product of the ancient mind, differ scarcely perceptibly, if they differ at all, from the most characteristic teachings of christ. this man, a better christian in all but the dogmatic sense of the word, than almost any of the ostensibly christian sovereigns who have since reigned, persecuted christianity. placed at the summit of all the previous attainments of humanity, with an open, unfettered intellect, and a character which led him of himself to embody in his moral writings the christian ideal, he yet failed to see that christianity was to be a good and not an evil to the world, with his duties to which he was so deeply penetrated. existing society he knew to be in a deplorable state. but such as it was, he saw, or thought he saw, that it was held together, and prevented from being worse, by belief and reverence of the received divinities. as a ruler of mankind, he deemed it his duty not to suffer society to fall in pieces; and saw not how, if its existing ties were removed, any others could be formed which could again knit it together. the new religion openly aimed at dissolving these ties: unless, therefore, it was his duty to adopt that religion, it seemed to be his duty to put it down. inasmuch then as the theology of christianity did not appear to him true or of divine origin; inasmuch as this strange history of a crucified god was not credible to him, and a system which purported to rest entirely upon a foundation to him so wholly unbelievable, could not be foreseen by him to be that renovating agency which, after all abatements, it has in fact proved to be; the gentlest and most amiable of philosophers and rulers, under a solemn sense of duty, authorised the persecution of christianity. to my mind this is one of the most tragical facts in all history. it is a bitter thought, how different a thing the christianity of the world might have been, if the christian faith had been adopted as the religion of the empire under the auspices of marcus aurelius instead of those of constantine. but it would be equally unjust to him and false to truth, to deny, that no one plea which can be urged for punishing anti-christian teaching, was wanting to marcus aurelius for punishing, as he did, the propagation of christianity. no christian more firmly believes that atheism is false, and tends to the dissolution of society, than marcus aurelius believed the same things of christianity; he who, of all men then living, might have been thought the most capable of appreciating it. unless any one who approves of punishment for the promulgation of opinions, flatters himself that he is a wiser and better man than marcus aurelius--more deeply versed in the wisdom of his time, more elevated in his intellect above it--more earnest in his search for truth, or more single-minded in his devotion to it when found;--let him abstain from that assumption of the joint infallibility of himself and the multitude, which the great antoninus made with so unfortunate a result. aware of the impossibility of defending the use of punishment for restraining irreligious opinions, by any argument which will not justify marcus antoninus, the enemies of religious freedom, when hard pressed, occasionally accept this consequence, and say, with dr. johnson, that the persecutors of christianity were in the right; that persecution is an ordeal through which truth ought to pass, and always passes successfully, legal penalties being, in the end, powerless against truth, though sometimes beneficially effective against mischievous errors. this is a form of the argument for religious intolerance, sufficiently remarkable not to be passed without notice. a theory which maintains that truth may justifiably be persecuted because persecution cannot possibly do it any harm, cannot be charged with being intentionally hostile to the reception of new truths; but we cannot commend the generosity of its dealing with the persons to whom mankind are indebted for them. to discover to the world something which deeply concerns it, and of which it was previously ignorant; to prove to it that it had been mistaken on some vital point of temporal or spiritual interest, is as important a service as a human being can render to his fellow-creatures, and in certain cases, as in those of the early christians and of the reformers, those who think with dr. johnson believe it to have been the most precious gift which could be bestowed on mankind. that the authors of such splendid benefits should be requited by martyrdom; that their reward should be to be dealt with as the vilest of criminals, is not, upon this theory, a deplorable error and misfortune, for which humanity should mourn in sackcloth and ashes, but the normal and justifiable state of things. the propounder of a new truth, according to this doctrine, should stand, as stood, in the legislation of the locrians, the proposer of a new law, with a halter round his neck, to be instantly tightened if the public assembly did not, on hearing his reasons, then and there adopt his proposition. people who defend this mode of treating benefactors, cannot be supposed to set much value on the benefit; and i believe this view of the subject is mostly confined to the sort of persons who think that new truths may have been desirable once, but that we have had enough of them now. but, indeed, the dictum that truth always triumphs over persecution, is one of those pleasant falsehoods which men repeat after one another till they pass into commonplaces, but which all experience refutes. history teems with instances of truth put down by persecution. if not suppressed for ever, it may be thrown back for centuries. to speak only of religious opinions: the reformation broke out at least twenty times before luther, and was put down. arnold of brescia was put down. fra dolcino was put down. savonarola was put down. the albigeois were put down. the vaudois were put down. the lollards were put down. the hussites were put down. even after the era of luther, wherever persecution was persisted in, it was successful. in spain, italy, flanders, the austrian empire, protestantism was rooted out; and, most likely, would have been so in england, had queen mary lived, or queen elizabeth died. persecution has always succeeded, save where the heretics were too strong a party to be effectually persecuted. no reasonable person can doubt that christianity might have been extirpated in the roman empire. it spread, and became predominant, because the persecutions were only occasional, lasting but a short time, and separated by long intervals of almost undisturbed propagandism. it is a piece of idle sentimentality that truth, merely as truth, has any inherent power denied to error, of prevailing against the dungeon and the stake. men are not more zealous for truth than they often are for error, and a sufficient application of legal or even of social penalties will generally succeed in stopping the propagation of either. the real advantage which truth has, consists in this, that when an opinion is true, it may be extinguished once, twice, or many times, but in the course of ages there will generally be found persons to rediscover it, until some one of its reappearances falls on a time when from favourable circumstances it escapes persecution until it has made such head as to withstand all subsequent attempts to suppress it. it will be said, that we do not now put to death the introducers of new opinions: we are not like our fathers who slew the prophets, we even build sepulchres to them. it is true we no longer put heretics to death; and the amount of penal infliction which modern feeling would probably tolerate, even against the most obnoxious opinions, is not sufficient to extirpate them. but let us not flatter ourselves that we are yet free from the stain even of legal persecution. penalties for opinion, or at least for its expression, still exist by law; and their enforcement is not, even in these times, so unexampled as to make it at all incredible that they may some day be revived in full force. in the year , at the summer assizes of the county of cornwall, an unfortunate man,[ ] said to be of unexceptionable conduct in all relations of life, was sentenced to twenty-one months' imprisonment, for uttering, and writing on a gate, some offensive words concerning christianity. within a month of the same time, at the old bailey, two persons, on two separate occasions,[ ] were rejected as jurymen, and one of them grossly insulted by the judge and by one of the counsel, because they honestly declared that they had no theological belief; and a third, a foreigner,[ ] for the same reason, was denied justice against a thief. this refusal of redress took place in virtue of the legal doctrine, that no person can be allowed to give evidence in a court of justice, who does not profess belief in a god (any god is sufficient) and in a future state; which is equivalent to declaring such persons to be outlaws, excluded from the protection of the tribunals; who may not only be robbed or assaulted with impunity, if no one but themselves, or persons of similar opinions, be present, but any one else may be robbed or assaulted with impunity, if the proof of the fact depends on their evidence. the assumption on which this is grounded, is that the oath is worthless, of a person who does not believe in a future state; a proposition which betokens much ignorance of history in those who assent to it (since it is historically true that a large proportion of infidels in all ages have been persons of distinguished integrity and honour); and would be maintained by no one who had the smallest conception how many of the persons in greatest repute with the world, both for virtues and for attainments, are well known, at least to their intimates, to be unbelievers. the rule, besides, is suicidal, and cuts away its own foundation. under pretence that atheists must be liars, it admits the testimony of all atheists who are willing to lie, and rejects only those who brave the obloquy of publicly confessing a detested creed rather than affirm a falsehood. a rule thus self-convicted of absurdity so far as regards its professed purpose, can be kept in force only as a badge of hatred, a relic of persecution; a persecution, too, having the peculiarity, that the qualification for undergoing it, is the being clearly proved not to deserve it. the rule, and the theory it implies, are hardly less insulting to believers than to infidels. for if he who does not believe in a future state, necessarily lies, it follows that they who do believe are only prevented from lying, if prevented they are, by the fear of hell. we will not do the authors and abettors of the rule the injury of supposing, that the conception which they have formed of christian virtue is drawn from their own consciousness. these, indeed, are but rags and remnants of persecution, and may be thought to be not so much an indication of the wish to persecute, as an example of that very frequent infirmity of english minds, which makes them take a preposterous pleasure in the assertion of a bad principle, when they are no longer bad enough to desire to carry it really into practice. but unhappily there is no security in the state of the public mind, that the suspension of worse forms of legal persecution, which has lasted for about the space of a generation, will continue. in this age the quiet surface of routine is as often ruffled by attempts to resuscitate past evils, as to introduce new benefits. what is boasted of at the present time as the revival of religion, is always, in narrow and uncultivated minds, at least as much the revival of bigotry; and where there is the strong permanent leaven of intolerance in the feelings of a people, which at all times abides in the middle classes of this country, it needs but little to provoke them into actively persecuting those whom they have never ceased to think proper objects of persecution.[ ] for it is this--it is the opinions men entertain, and the feelings they cherish, respecting those who disown the beliefs they deem important, which makes this country not a place of mental freedom. for a long time past, the chief mischief of the legal penalties is that they strengthen the social stigma. it is that stigma which is really effective, and so effective is it that the profession of opinions which are under the ban of society is much less common in england, than is, in many other countries, the avowal of those which incur risk of judicial punishment. in respect to all persons but those whose pecuniary circumstances make them independent of the good will of other people, opinion, on this subject, is as efficacious as law; men might as well be imprisoned, as excluded from the means of earning their bread. those whose bread is already secured, and who desire no favours from men in power, or from bodies of men, or from the public, have nothing to fear from the open avowal of any opinions, but to be ill-thought of and ill-spoken of, and this it ought not to require a very heroic mould to enable them to bear. there is no room for any appeal _ad misericordiam_ in behalf of such persons. but though we do not now inflict so much evil on those who think differently from us, as it was formerly our custom to do, it may be that we do ourselves as much evil as ever by our treatment of them. socrates was put to death, but the socratic philosophy rose like the sun in heaven, and spread its illumination over the whole intellectual firmament. christians were cast to the lions, but the christian church grew up a stately and spreading tree, overtopping the older and less vigorous growths, and stifling them by its shade. our merely social intolerance kills no one, roots out no opinions, but induces men to disguise them, or to abstain from any active effort for their diffusion. with us, heretical opinions do not perceptibly gain, or even lose, ground in each decade or generation; they never blaze out far and wide, but continue to smoulder in the narrow circles of thinking and studious persons among whom they originate, without ever lighting up the general affairs of mankind with either a true or a deceptive light. and thus is kept up a state of things very satisfactory to some minds, because, without the unpleasant process of fining or imprisoning anybody, it maintains all prevailing opinions outwardly undisturbed, while it does not absolutely interdict the exercise of reason by dissentients afflicted with the malady of thought. a convenient plan for having peace in the intellectual world, and keeping all things going on therein very much as they do already. but the price paid for this sort of intellectual pacification, is the sacrifice of the entire moral courage of the human mind. a state of things in which a large portion of the most active and inquiring intellects find it advisable to keep the genuine principles and grounds of their convictions within their own breasts, and attempt, in what they address to the public, to fit as much as they can of their own conclusions to premises which they have internally renounced, cannot send forth the open, fearless characters, and logical, consistent intellects who once adorned the thinking world. the sort of men who can be looked for under it, are either mere conformers to commonplace, or time-servers for truth, whose arguments on all great subjects are meant for their hearers, and are not those which have convinced themselves. those who avoid this alternative, do so by narrowing their thoughts and interest to things which can be spoken of without venturing within the region of principles, that is, to small practical matters, which would come right of themselves, if but the minds of mankind were strengthened and enlarged, and which will never be made effectually right until then: while that which would strengthen and enlarge men's minds, free and daring speculation on the highest subjects, is abandoned. those in whose eyes this reticence on the part of heretics is no evil, should consider in the first place, that in consequence of it there is never any fair and thorough discussion of heretical opinions; and that such of them as could not stand such a discussion, though they may be prevented from spreading, do not disappear. but it is not the minds of heretics that are deteriorated most, by the ban placed on all inquiry which does not end in the orthodox conclusions. the greatest harm done is to those who are not heretics, and whose whole mental development is cramped, and their reason cowed, by the fear of heresy. who can compute what the world loses in the multitude of promising intellects combined with timid characters, who dare not follow out any bold, vigorous, independent train of thought, lest it should land them in something which would admit of being considered irreligious or immoral? among them we may occasionally see some man of deep conscientiousness, and subtle and refined understanding, who spends a life in sophisticating with an intellect which he cannot silence, and exhausts the resources of ingenuity in attempting to reconcile the promptings of his conscience and reason with orthodoxy, which yet he does not, perhaps, to the end succeed in doing. no one can be a great thinker who does not recognise, that as a thinker it is his first duty to follow his intellect to whatever conclusions it may lead. truth gains more even by the errors of one who, with due study and preparation, thinks for himself, than by the true opinions of those who only hold them because they do not suffer themselves to think. not that it is solely, or chiefly, to form great thinkers, that freedom of thinking is required. on the contrary, it is as much, and even more indispensable, to enable average human beings to attain the mental stature which they are capable of. there have been, and may again be, great individual thinkers, in a general atmosphere of mental slavery. but there never has been, nor ever will be, in that atmosphere, an intellectually active people. where any people has made a temporary approach to such a character, it has been because the dread of heterodox speculation was for a time suspended. where there is a tacit convention that principles are not to be disputed; where the discussion of the greatest questions which can occupy humanity is considered to be closed, we cannot hope to find that generally high scale of mental activity which has made some periods of history so remarkable. never when controversy avoided the subjects which are large and important enough to kindle enthusiasm, was the mind of a people stirred up from its foundations, and the impulse given which raised even persons of the most ordinary intellect to something of the dignity of thinking beings. of such we have had an example in the condition of europe during the times immediately following the reformation; another, though limited to the continent and to a more cultivated class, in the speculative movement of the latter half of the eighteenth century; and a third, of still briefer duration, in the intellectual fermentation of germany during the goethian and fichtean period. these periods differed widely in the particular opinions which they developed; but were alike in this, that during all three the yoke of authority was broken. in each, an old mental despotism had been thrown off, and no new one had yet taken its place. the impulse given at these three periods has made europe what it now is. every single improvement which has taken place either in the human mind or in institutions, may be traced distinctly to one or other of them. appearances have for some time indicated that all three impulses are well-nigh spent; and we can expect no fresh start, until we again assert our mental freedom. let us now pass to the second division of the argument, and dismissing the supposition that any of the received opinions may be false, let us assume them to be true, and examine into the worth of the manner in which they are likely to be held, when their truth is not freely and openly canvassed. however unwillingly a person who has a strong opinion may admit the possibility that his opinion may be false, he ought to be moved by the consideration that however true it may be, if it is not fully, frequently, and fearlessly discussed, it will be held as a dead dogma, not a living truth. there is a class of persons (happily not quite so numerous as formerly) who think it enough if a person assents undoubtingly to what they think true, though he has no knowledge whatever of the grounds of the opinion, and could not make a tenable defence of it against the most superficial objections. such persons, if they can once get their creed taught from authority, naturally think that no good, and some harm, comes of its being allowed to be questioned. where their influence prevails, they make it nearly impossible for the received opinion to be rejected wisely and considerately, though it may still be rejected rashly and ignorantly; for to shut out discussion entirely is seldom possible, and when it once gets in, beliefs not grounded on conviction are apt to give way before the slightest semblance of an argument. waiving, however, this possibility--assuming that the true opinion abides in the mind, but abides as a prejudice, a belief independent of, and proof against, argument--this is not the way in which truth ought to be held by a rational being. this is not knowing the truth. truth, thus held, is but one superstition the more, accidentally clinging to the words which enunciate a truth. if the intellect and judgment of mankind ought to be cultivated, a thing which protestants at least do not deny, on what can these faculties be more appropriately exercised by any one, than on the things which concern him so much that it is considered necessary for him to hold opinions on them? if the cultivation of the understanding consists in one thing more than in another, it is surely in learning the grounds of one's own opinions. whatever people believe, on subjects on which it is of the first importance to believe rightly, they ought to be able to defend against at least the common objections. but, some one may say, "let them be _taught_ the grounds of their opinions. it does not follow that opinions must be merely parroted because they are never heard controverted. persons who learn geometry do not simply commit the theorems to memory, but understand and learn likewise the demonstrations; and it would be absurd to say that they remain ignorant of the grounds of geometrical truths, because they never hear any one deny, and attempt to disprove them." undoubtedly: and such teaching suffices on a subject like mathematics, where there is nothing at all to be said on the wrong side of the question. the peculiarity of the evidence of mathematical truths is, that all the argument is on one side. there are no objections, and no answers to objections. but on every subject on which difference of opinion is possible, the truth depends on a balance to be struck between two sets of conflicting reasons. even in natural philosophy, there is always some other explanation possible of the same facts; some geocentric theory instead of heliocentric, some phlogiston instead of oxygen; and it has to be shown why that other theory cannot be the true one: and until this is shown, and until we know how it is shown, we do not understand the grounds of our opinion. but when we turn to subjects infinitely more complicated, to morals, religion, politics, social relations, and the business of life, three-fourths of the arguments for every disputed opinion consist in dispelling the appearances which favour some opinion different from it. the greatest orator, save one, of antiquity, has left it on record that he always studied his adversary's case with as great, if not with still greater, intensity than even his own. what cicero practised as the means of forensic success, requires to be imitated by all who study any subject in order to arrive at the truth. he who knows only his own side of the case, knows little of that. his reasons may be good, and no one may have been able to refute them. but if he is equally unable to refute the reasons on the opposite side; if he does not so much as know what they are, he has no ground for preferring either opinion. the rational position for him would be suspension of judgment, and unless he contents himself with that, he is either led by authority, or adopts, like the generality of the world, the side to which he feels most inclination. nor is it enough that he should hear the arguments of adversaries from his own teachers, presented as they state them, and accompanied by what they offer as refutations. that is not the way to do justice to the arguments, or bring them into real contact with his own mind. he must be able to hear them from persons who actually believe them; who defend them in earnest, and do their very utmost for them. he must know them in their most plausible and persuasive form; he must feel the whole force of the difficulty which the true view of the subject has to encounter and dispose of; else he will never really possess himself of the portion of truth which meets and removes that difficulty. ninety-nine in a hundred of what are called educated men are in this condition; even of those who can argue fluently for their opinions. their conclusion may be true, but it might be false for anything they know: they have never thrown themselves into the mental position of those who think differently from them, and considered what such persons may have to say; and consequently they do not, in any proper sense of the word, know the doctrine which they themselves profess. they do not know those parts of it which explain and justify the remainder; the considerations which show that a fact which seemingly conflicts with another is reconcilable with it, or that, of two apparently strong reasons, one and not the other ought to be preferred. all that part of the truth which turns the scale, and decides the judgment of a completely informed mind, they are strangers to; nor is it ever really known, but to those who have attended equally and impartially to both sides, and endeavoured to see the reasons of both in the strongest light. so essential is this discipline to a real understanding of moral and human subjects, that if opponents of all important truths do not exist, it is indispensable to imagine them, and supply them with the strongest arguments which the most skilful devil's advocate can conjure up. to abate the force of these considerations, an enemy of free discussion may be supposed to say, that there is no necessity for mankind in general to know and understand all that can be said against or for their opinions by philosophers and theologians. that it is not needful for common men to be able to expose all the misstatements or fallacies of an ingenious opponent. that it is enough if there is always somebody capable of answering them, so that nothing likely to mislead uninstructed persons remains unrefuted. that simple minds, having been taught the obvious grounds of the truths inculcated on them, may trust to authority for the rest, and being aware that they have neither knowledge nor talent to resolve every difficulty which can be raised, may repose in the assurance that all those which have been raised have been or can be answered, by those who are specially trained to the task. conceding to this view of the subject the utmost that can be claimed for it by those most easily satisfied with the amount of understanding of truth which ought to accompany the belief of it; even so, the argument for free discussion is no way weakened. for even this doctrine acknowledges that mankind ought to have a rational assurance that all objections have been satisfactorily answered; and how are they to be answered if that which requires to be answered is not spoken? or how can the answer be known to be satisfactory, if the objectors have no opportunity of showing that it is unsatisfactory? if not the public, at least the philosophers and theologians who are to resolve the difficulties, must make themselves familiar with those difficulties in their most puzzling form; and this cannot be accomplished unless they are freely stated, and placed in the most advantageous light which they admit of. the catholic church has its own way of dealing with this embarrassing problem. it makes a broad separation between those who can be permitted to receive its doctrines on conviction, and those who must accept them on trust. neither, indeed, are allowed any choice as to what they will accept; but the clergy, such at least as can be fully confided in, may admissibly and meritoriously make themselves acquainted with the arguments of opponents, in order to answer them, and may, therefore, read heretical books; the laity, not unless by special permission, hard to be obtained. this discipline recognises a knowledge of the enemy's case as beneficial to the teachers, but finds means, consistent with this, of denying it to the rest of the world: thus giving to the _élite_ more mental culture, though not more mental freedom, than it allows to the mass. by this device it succeeds in obtaining the kind of mental superiority which its purposes require; for though culture without freedom never made a large and liberal mind, it can make a clever _nisi prius_ advocate of a cause. but in countries professing protestantism, this resource is denied; since protestants hold, at least in theory, that the responsibility for the choice of a religion must be borne by each for himself, and cannot be thrown off upon teachers. besides, in the present state of the world, it is practically impossible that writings which are read by the instructed can be kept from the uninstructed. if the teachers of mankind are to be cognisant of all that they ought to know, everything must be free to be written and published without restraint. if, however, the mischievous operation of the absence of free discussion, when the received opinions are true, were confined to leaving men ignorant of the grounds of those opinions, it might be thought that this, if an intellectual, is no moral evil, and does not affect the worth of the opinions, regarded in their influence on the character. the fact, however, is, that not only the grounds of the opinion are forgotten in the absence of discussion, but too often the meaning of the opinion itself. the words which convey it, cease to suggest ideas, or suggest only a small portion of those they were originally employed to communicate. instead of a vivid conception and a living belief, there remain only a few phrases retained by rote; or, if any part, the shell and husk only of the meaning is retained, the finer essence being lost. the great chapter in human history which this fact occupies and fills, cannot be too earnestly studied and meditated on. it is illustrated in the experience of almost all ethical doctrines and religious creeds. they are all full of meaning and vitality to those who originate them, and to the direct disciples of the originators. their meaning continues to be felt in undiminished strength, and is perhaps brought out into even fuller consciousness, so long as the struggle lasts to give the doctrine or creed an ascendency over other creeds. at last it either prevails, and becomes the general opinion, or its progress stops; it keeps possession of the ground it has gained, but ceases to spread further. when either of these results has become apparent, controversy on the subject flags, and gradually dies away. the doctrine has taken its place, if not as a received opinion, as one of the admitted sects or divisions of opinion: those who hold it have generally inherited, not adopted it; and conversion from one of these doctrines to another, being now an exceptional fact, occupies little place in the thoughts of their professors. instead of being, as at first, constantly on the alert either to defend themselves against the world, or to bring the world over to them, they have subsided into acquiescence, and neither listen, when they can help it, to arguments against their creed, nor trouble dissentients (if there be such) with arguments in its favour. from this time may usually be dated the decline in the living power of the doctrine. we often hear the teachers of all creeds lamenting the difficulty of keeping up in the minds of believers a lively apprehension of the truth which they nominally recognise, so that it may penetrate the feelings, and acquire a real mastery over the conduct. no such difficulty is complained of while the creed is still fighting for its existence: even the weaker combatants then know and feel what they are fighting for, and the difference between it and other doctrines; and in that period of every creed's existence, not a few persons may be found, who have realised its fundamental principles in all the forms of thought, have weighed and considered them in all their important bearings, and have experienced the full effect on the character, which belief in that creed ought to produce in a mind thoroughly imbued with it. but when it has come to be a hereditary creed, and to be received passively, not actively--when the mind is no longer compelled, in the same degree as at first, to exercise its vital powers on the questions which its belief presents to it, there is a progressive tendency to forget all of the belief except the formularies, or to give it a dull and torpid assent, as if accepting it on trust dispensed with the necessity of realising it in consciousness, or testing it by personal experience; until it almost ceases to connect itself at all with the inner life of the human being. then are seen the cases, so frequent in this age of the world as almost to form the majority, in which the creed remains as it were outside the mind, encrusting and petrifying it against all other influences addressed to the higher parts of our nature; manifesting its power by not suffering any fresh and living conviction to get in, but itself doing nothing for the mind or heart, except standing sentinel over them to keep them vacant. to what an extent doctrines intrinsically fitted to make the deepest impression upon the mind may remain in it as dead beliefs, without being ever realised in the imagination, the feelings, or the understanding, is exemplified by the manner in which the majority of believers hold the doctrines of christianity. by christianity i here mean what is accounted such by all churches and sects--the maxims and precepts contained in the new testament. these are considered sacred, and accepted as laws, by all professing christians. yet it is scarcely too much to say that not one christian in a thousand guides or tests his individual conduct by reference to those laws. the standard to which he does refer it, is the custom of his nation, his class, or his religious profession. he has thus, on the one hand, a collection of ethical maxims, which he believes to have been vouchsafed to him by infallible wisdom as rules for his government; and on the other, a set of every-day judgments and practices, which go a certain length with some of those maxims, not so great a length with others, stand in direct opposition to some, and are, on the whole, a compromise between the christian creed and the interests and suggestions of worldly life. to the first of these standards he gives his homage; to the other his real allegiance. all christians believe that the blessed are the poor and humble, and those who are ill-used by the world; that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven; that they should judge not, lest they be judged; that they should swear not at all; that they should love their neighbour as themselves; that if one take their cloak, they should give him their coat also; that they should take no thought for the morrow; that if they would be perfect, they should sell all that they have and give it to the poor. they are not insincere when they say that they believe these things. they do believe them, as people believe what they have always heard lauded and never discussed. but in the sense of that living belief which regulates conduct, they believe these doctrines just up to the point to which it is usual to act upon them. the doctrines in their integrity are serviceable to pelt adversaries with; and it is understood that they are to be put forward (when possible) as the reasons for whatever people do that they think laudable. but any one who reminded them that the maxims require an infinity of things which they never even think of doing, would gain nothing but to be classed among those very unpopular characters who affect to be better than other people. the doctrines have no hold on ordinary believers--are not a power in their minds. they have a habitual respect for the sound of them, but no feeling which spreads from the words to the things signified, and forces the mind to take _them_ in, and make them conform to the formula. whenever conduct is concerned, they look round for mr. a and b to direct them how far to go in obeying christ. now we may be well assured that the case was not thus, but far otherwise, with the early christians. had it been thus, christianity never would have expanded from an obscure sect of the despised hebrews into the religion of the roman empire. when their enemies said, "see how these christians love one another" (a remark not likely to be made by anybody now), they assuredly had a much livelier feeling of the meaning of their creed than they have ever had since. and to this cause, probably, it is chiefly owing that christianity now makes so little progress in extending its domain, and after eighteen centuries, is still nearly confined to europeans and the descendants of europeans. even with the strictly religious, who are much in earnest about their doctrines, and attach a greater amount of meaning to many of them than people in general, it commonly happens that the part which is thus comparatively active in their minds is that which was made by calvin, or knox, or some such person much nearer in character to themselves. the sayings of christ coexist passively in their minds, producing hardly any effect beyond what is caused by mere listening to words so amiable and bland. there are many reasons, doubtless, why doctrines which are the badge of a sect retain more of their vitality than those common to all recognised sects, and why more pains are taken by teachers to keep their meaning alive; but one reason certainly is, that the peculiar doctrines are more questioned, and have to be oftener defended against open gainsayers. both teachers and learners go to sleep at their post, as soon as there is no enemy in the field. the same thing holds true, generally speaking, of all traditional doctrines--those of prudence and knowledge of life, as well as of morals or religion. all languages and literatures are full of general observations on life, both as to what it is, and how to conduct oneself in it; observations which everybody knows, which everybody repeats, or hears with acquiescence, which are received as truisms, yet of which most people first truly learn the meaning, when experience, generally of a painful kind, has made it a reality to them. how often, when smarting under some unforeseen misfortune or disappointment, does a person call to mind some proverb or common saying, familiar to him all his life, the meaning of which, if he had ever before felt it as he does now, would have saved him from the calamity. there are indeed reasons for this, other than the absence of discussion: there are many truths of which the full meaning _cannot_ be realised, until personal experience has brought it home. but much more of the meaning even of these would have been understood, and what was understood would have been far more deeply impressed on the mind, if the man had been accustomed to hear it argued _pro_ and _con_ by people who did understand it. the fatal tendency of mankind to leave off thinking about a thing when it is no longer doubtful, is the cause of half their errors. a contemporary author has well spoken of "the deep slumber of a decided opinion." but what! (it may be asked) is the absence of unanimity an indispensable condition of true knowledge? is it necessary that some part of mankind should persist in error, to enable any to realise the truth? does a belief cease to be real and vital as soon as it is generally received--and is a proposition never thoroughly understood and felt unless some doubt of it remains? as soon as mankind have unanimously accepted a truth, does the truth perish within them? the highest aim and best result of improved intelligence, it has hitherto been thought, is to unite mankind more and more in the acknowledgment of all important truths: and does the intelligence only last as long as it has not achieved its object? do the fruits of conquest perish by the very completeness of the victory? i affirm no such thing. as mankind improve, the number of doctrines which are no longer disputed or doubted will be constantly on the increase: and the well-being of mankind may almost be measured by the number and gravity of the truths which have reached the point of being uncontested. the cessation, on one question after another, of serious controversy, is one of the necessary incidents of the consolidation of opinion; a consolidation as salutary in the case of true opinions, as it is dangerous and noxious when the opinions are erroneous. but though this gradual narrowing of the bounds of diversity of opinion is necessary in both senses of the term, being at once inevitable and indispensable, we are not therefore obliged to conclude that all its consequences must be beneficial. the loss of so important an aid to the intelligent and living apprehension of a truth, as is afforded by the necessity of explaining it to, or defending it against, opponents, though not sufficient to outweigh, is no trifling drawback from, the benefit of its universal recognition. where this advantage can no longer be had, i confess i should like to see the teachers of mankind endeavouring to provide a substitute for it; some contrivance for making the difficulties of the question as present to the learner's consciousness, as if they were pressed upon him by a dissentient champion, eager for his conversion. but instead of seeking contrivances for this purpose, they have lost those they formerly had. the socratic dialectics, so magnificently exemplified in the dialogues of plato, were a contrivance of this description. they were essentially a negative discussion of the great questions of philosophy and life, directed with consummate skill to the purpose of convincing any one who had merely adopted the commonplaces of received opinion, that he did not understand the subject--that he as yet attached no definite meaning to the doctrines he professed; in order that, becoming aware of his ignorance, he might be put in the way to attain a stable belief, resting on a clear apprehension both of the meaning of doctrines and of their evidence. the school disputations of the middle ages had a somewhat similar object. they were intended to make sure that the pupil understood his own opinion, and (by necessary correlation) the opinion opposed to it, and could enforce the grounds of the one and confute those of the other. these last-mentioned contests had indeed the incurable defect, that the premises appealed to were taken from authority, not from reason; and, as a discipline to the mind, they were in every respect inferior to the powerful dialectics which formed the intellects of the "socratici viri": but the modern mind owes far more to both than it is generally willing to admit, and the present modes of education contain nothing which in the smallest degree supplies the place either of the one or of the other. a person who derives all his instruction from teachers or books, even if he escape the besetting temptation of contenting himself with cram, is under no compulsion to hear both sides; accordingly it is far from a frequent accomplishment, even among thinkers, to know both sides; and the weakest part of what everybody says in defence of his opinion, is what he intends as a reply to antagonists. it is the fashion of the present time to disparage negative logic--that which points out weaknesses in theory or errors in practice, without establishing positive truths. such negative criticism would indeed be poor enough as an ultimate result; but as a means to attaining any positive knowledge or conviction worthy the name, it cannot be valued too highly; and until people are again systematically trained to it, there will be few great thinkers, and a low general average of intellect, in any but the mathematical and physical departments of speculation. on any other subject no one's opinions deserve the name of knowledge, except so far as he has either had forced upon him by others, or gone through of himself, the same mental process which would have been required of him in carrying on an active controversy with opponents. that, therefore, which when absent, it is so indispensable, but so difficult, to create, how worse than absurd is it to forego, when spontaneously offering itself! if there are any persons who contest a received opinion, or who will do so if law or opinion will let them, let us thank them for it, open our minds to listen to them, and rejoice that there is some one to do for us what we otherwise ought, if we have any regard for either the certainty or the vitality of our convictions, to do with much greater labour for ourselves. it still remains to speak of one of the principal causes which make diversity of opinion advantageous, and will continue to do so until mankind shall have entered a stage of intellectual advancement which at present seems at an incalculable distance. we have hitherto considered only two possibilities: that the received opinion may be false, and some other opinion, consequently, true; or that, the received opinion being true, a conflict with the opposite error is essential to a clear apprehension and deep feeling of its truth. but there is a commoner case than either of these; when the conflicting doctrines, instead of being one true and the other false, share the truth between them; and the nonconforming opinion is needed to supply the remainder of the truth, of which the received doctrine embodies only a part. popular opinions, on subjects not palpable to sense, are often true, but seldom or never the whole truth. they are a part of the truth; sometimes a greater, sometimes a smaller part, but exaggerated, distorted, and disjoined from the truths by which they ought to be accompanied and limited. heretical opinions, on the other hand, are generally some of these suppressed and neglected truths, bursting the bonds which kept them down, and either seeking reconciliation with the truth contained in the common opinion, or fronting it as enemies, and setting themselves up, with similar exclusiveness, as the whole truth. the latter case is hitherto the most frequent, as, in the human mind, one-sidedness has always been the rule, and many-sidedness the exception. hence, even in revolutions of opinion, one part of the truth usually sets while another rises. even progress, which ought to superadd, for the most part only substitutes one partial and incomplete truth for another; improvement consisting chiefly in this, that the new fragment of truth is more wanted, more adapted to the needs of the time, than that which it displaces. such being the partial character of prevailing opinions, even when resting on a true foundation; every opinion which embodies somewhat of the portion of truth which the common opinion omits, ought to be considered precious, with whatever amount of error and confusion that truth may be blended. no sober judge of human affairs will feel bound to be indignant because those who force on our notice truths which we should otherwise have overlooked, overlook some of those which we see. rather, he will think that so long as popular truth is one-sided, it is more desirable than otherwise that unpopular truth should have one-sided asserters too; such being usually the most energetic, and the most likely to compel reluctant attention to the fragment of wisdom which they proclaim as if it were the whole. thus, in the eighteenth century, when nearly all the instructed, and all those of the uninstructed who were led by them, were lost in admiration of what is called civilisation, and of the marvels of modern science, literature, and philosophy, and while greatly overrating the amount of unlikeness between the men of modern and those of ancient times, indulged the belief that the whole of the difference was in their own favour; with what a salutary shock did the paradoxes of rousseau explode like bombshells in the midst, dislocating the compact mass of one-sided opinion, and forcing its elements to recombine in a better form and with additional ingredients. not that the current opinions were on the whole farther from the truth than rousseau's were; on the contrary, they were nearer to it; they contained more of positive truth, and very much less of error. nevertheless there lay in rousseau's doctrine, and has floated down the stream of opinion along with it, a considerable amount of exactly those truths which the popular opinion wanted; and these are the deposit which was left behind when the flood subsided. the superior worth of simplicity of life, the enervating and demoralising effect of the trammels and hypocrisies of artificial society, are ideas which have never been entirely absent from cultivated minds since rousseau wrote; and they will in time produce their due effect, though at present needing to be asserted as much as ever, and to be asserted by deeds, for words, on this subject, have nearly exhausted their power. in politics, again, it is almost a commonplace, that a party of order or stability, and a party of progress or reform, are both necessary elements of a healthy state of political life; until the one or the other shall have so enlarged its mental grasp as to be a party equally of order and of progress, knowing and distinguishing what is fit to be preserved from what ought to be swept away. each of these modes of thinking derives its utility from the deficiencies of the other; but it is in a great measure the opposition of the other that keeps each within the limits of reason and sanity. unless opinions favourable to democracy and to aristocracy, to property and to equality, to co-operation and to competition, to luxury and to abstinence, to sociality and individuality, to liberty and discipline, and all the other standing antagonisms of practical life, are expressed with equal freedom, and enforced and defended with equal talent and energy, there is no chance of both elements obtaining their due; one scale is sure to go up and the other down. truth, in the great practical concerns of life, is so much a question of the reconciling and combining of opposites, that very few have minds sufficiently capacious and impartial to make the adjustment with an approach to correctness, and it has to be made by the rough process of a struggle between combatants fighting under hostile banners. on any of the great open questions just enumerated, if either of the two opinions has a better claim than the other, not merely to be tolerated, but to be encouraged and countenanced, it is the one which happens at the particular time and place to be in a minority. that is the opinion which, for the time being, represents the neglected interests, the side of human well-being which is in danger of obtaining less than its share. i am aware that there is not, in this country, any intolerance of differences of opinion on most of these topics. they are adduced to show, by admitted and multiplied examples, the universality of the fact, that only through diversity of opinion is there, in the existing state of human intellect, a chance of fair-play to all sides of the truth. when there are persons to be found, who form an exception to the apparent unanimity of the world on any subject, even if the world is in the right, it is always probable that dissentients have something worth hearing to say for themselves, and that truth would lose something by their silence. it may be objected, "but _some_ received principles, especially on the highest and most vital subjects, are more than half-truths. the christian morality, for instance, is the whole truth on that subject, and if any one teaches a morality which varies from it, he is wholly in error." as this is of all cases the most important in practice, none can be fitter to test the general maxim. but before pronouncing what christian morality is or is not, it would be desirable to decide what is meant by christian morality. if it means the morality of the new testament, i wonder that any one who derives his knowledge of this from the book itself, can suppose that it was announced, or intended, as a complete doctrine of morals. the gospel always refers to a pre-existing morality, and confines its precepts to the particulars in which that morality was to be corrected, or superseded by a wider and higher; expressing itself, moreover, in terms most general, often impossible to be interpreted literally, and possessing rather the impressiveness of poetry or eloquence than the precision of legislation. to extract from it a body of ethical doctrine, has ever been possible without eking it out from the old testament, that is, from a system elaborate indeed, but in many respects barbarous, and intended only for a barbarous people. st. paul, a declared enemy to this judaical mode of interpreting the doctrine and filling up the scheme of his master, equally assumes a pre-existing morality, namely, that of the greeks and romans; and his advice to christians is in a great measure a system of accommodation to that; even to the extent of giving an apparent sanction to slavery. what is called christian, but should rather be termed theological, morality, was not the work of christ or the apostles, but is of much later origin, having been gradually built up by the catholic church of the first five centuries, and though not implicitly adopted by moderns and protestants, has been much less modified by them than might have been expected. for the most part, indeed, they have contented themselves with cutting off the additions which had been made to it in the middle ages, each sect supplying the place by fresh additions, adapted to its own character and tendencies. that mankind owe a great debt to this morality, and to its early teachers, i should be the last person to deny; but i do not scruple to say of it, that it is, in many important points, incomplete and one-sided, and that unless ideas and feelings, not sanctioned by it, had contributed to the formation of european life and character, human affairs would have been in a worse condition than they now are. christian morality (so called) has all the characters of a reaction; it is, in great part, a protest against paganism. its ideal is negative rather than positive; passive rather than active; innocence rather than nobleness; abstinence from evil, rather than energetic pursuit of good: in its precepts (as has been well said) "thou shalt not" predominates unduly over "thou shalt." in its horror of sensuality, it made an idol of asceticism, which has been gradually compromised away into one of legality. it holds out the hope of heaven and the threat of hell, as the appointed and appropriate motives to a virtuous life: in this falling far below the best of the ancients, and doing what lies in it to give to human morality an essentially selfish character, by disconnecting each man's feelings of duty from the interests of his fellow-creatures, except so far as a self-interested inducement is offered to him for consulting them. it is essentially a doctrine of passive obedience; it inculcates submission to all authorities found established; who indeed are not to be actively obeyed when they command what religion forbids, but who are not to be resisted, far less rebelled against, for any amount of wrong to ourselves. and while, in the morality of the best pagan nations, duty to the state holds even a disproportionate place, infringing on the just liberty of the individual; in purely christian ethics, that grand department of duty is scarcely noticed or acknowledged. it is in the koran, not the new testament, that we read the maxim--"a ruler who appoints any man to an office, when there is in his dominions another man better qualified for it, sins against god and against the state." what little recognition the idea of obligation to the public obtains in modern morality, is derived from greek and roman sources, not from christian; as, even in the morality of private life, whatever exists of magnanimity, high-mindedness, personal dignity, even the sense of honour, is derived from the purely human, not the religious part of our education, and never could have grown out of a standard of ethics in which the only worth, professedly recognised, is that of obedience. i am as far as any one from pretending that these defects are necessarily inherent in the christian ethics, in every manner in which it can be conceived, or that the many requisites of a complete moral doctrine which it does not contain, do not admit of being reconciled with it. far less would i insinuate this of the doctrines and precepts of christ himself. i believe that the sayings of christ are all, that i can see any evidence of their having been intended to be; that they are irreconcilable with nothing which a comprehensive morality requires; that everything which is excellent in ethics may be brought within them, with no greater violence to their language than has been done to it by all who have attempted to deduce from them any practical system of conduct whatever. but it is quite consistent with this, to believe that they contain, and were meant to contain, only a part of the truth; that many essential elements of the highest morality are among the things which are not provided for, nor intended to be provided for, in the recorded deliverances of the founder of christianity, and which have been entirely thrown aside in the system of ethics erected on the basis of those deliverances by the christian church. and this being so, i think it a great error to persist in attempting to find in the christian doctrine that complete rule for our guidance, which its author intended it to sanction and enforce, but only partially to provide. i believe, too, that this narrow theory is becoming a grave practical evil, detracting greatly from the value of the moral training and instruction, which so many well-meaning persons are now at length exerting themselves to promote. i much fear that by attempting to form the mind and feelings on an exclusively religious type, and discarding those secular standards (as for want of a better name they may be called) which heretofore co-existed with and supplemented the christian ethics, receiving some of its spirit, and infusing into it some of theirs, there will result, and is even now resulting, a low, abject, servile type of character, which, submit itself as it may to what it deems the supreme will, is incapable of rising to or sympathising in the conception of supreme goodness. i believe that other ethics than any which can be evolved from exclusively christian sources, must exist side by side with christian ethics to produce the moral regeneration of mankind; and that the christian system is no exception to the rule, that in an imperfect state of the human mind, the interests of truth require a diversity of opinions. it is not necessary that in ceasing to ignore the moral truths not contained in christianity, men should ignore any of those which it does contain. such prejudice, or oversight, when it occurs, is altogether an evil; but it is one from which we cannot hope to be always exempt, and must be regarded as the price paid for an inestimable good. the exclusive pretension made by a part of the truth to be the whole, must and ought to be protested against, and if a reactionary impulse should make the protestors unjust in their turn, this one-sidedness, like the other, may be lamented, but must be tolerated. if christians would teach infidels to be just to christianity, they should themselves be just to infidelity. it can do truth no service to blink the fact, known to all who have the most ordinary acquaintance with literary history, that a large portion of the noblest and most valuable moral teaching has been the work, not only of men who did not know, but of men who knew and rejected, the christian faith. i do not pretend that the most unlimited use of the freedom of enunciating all possible opinions would put an end to the evils of religious or philosophical sectarianism. every truth which men of narrow capacity are in earnest about, is sure to be asserted, inculcated, and in many ways even acted on, as if no other truth existed in the world, or at all events none that could limit or qualify the first. i acknowledge that the tendency of all opinions to become sectarian is not cured by the freest discussion, but is often heightened and exacerbated thereby; the truth which ought to have been, but was not, seen, being rejected all the more violently because proclaimed by persons regarded as opponents. but it is not on the impassioned partisan, it is on the calmer and more disinterested bystander, that this collision of opinions works its salutary effect. not the violent conflict between parts of the truth, but the quiet suppression of half of it, is the formidable evil: there is always hope when people are forced to listen to both sides; it is when they attend only to one that errors harden into prejudices, and truth itself ceases to have the effect of truth, by being exaggerated into falsehood. and since there are few mental attributes more rare than that judicial faculty which can sit in intelligent judgment between two sides of a question, of which only one is represented by an advocate before it, truth has no chance but in proportion as every side of it, every opinion which embodies any fraction of the truth, not only finds advocates, but is so advocated as to be listened to. we have now recognised the necessity to the mental well-being of mankind (on which all their other well-being depends) of freedom of opinion, and freedom of the expression of opinion, on four distinct grounds; which we will now briefly recapitulate. first, if any opinion is compelled to silence, that opinion may, for aught we can certainly know, be true. to deny this is to assume our own infallibility. secondly, though the silenced opinion be an error, it may, and very commonly does, contain a portion of truth; and since the general or prevailing opinion on any subject is rarely or never the whole truth, it is only by the collision of adverse opinions, that the remainder of the truth has any chance of being supplied. thirdly, even if the received opinion be not only true, but the whole truth; unless it is suffered to be, and actually is, vigorously and earnestly contested, it will, by most of those who receive it, be held in the manner of a prejudice, with little comprehension or feeling of its rational grounds. and not only this, but, fourthly, the meaning of the doctrine itself will be in danger of being lost, or enfeebled, and deprived of its vital effect on the character and conduct: the dogma becoming a mere formal profession, inefficacious for good, but cumbering the ground, and preventing the growth of any real and heartfelt conviction, from reason or personal experience. before quitting the subject of freedom of opinion, it is fit to take some notice of those who say, that the free expression of all opinions should be permitted, on condition that the manner be temperate, and do not pass the bounds of fair discussion. much might be said on the impossibility of fixing where these supposed bounds are to be placed; for if the test be offence to those whose opinion is attacked, i think experience testifies that this offence is given whenever the attack is telling and powerful, and that every opponent who pushes them hard, and whom they find it difficult to answer, appears to them, if he shows any strong feeling on the subject, an intemperate opponent. but this, though an important consideration in a practical point of view, merges in a more fundamental objection. undoubtedly the manner of asserting an opinion, even though it be a true one, may be very objectionable, and may justly incur severe censure. but the principal offences of the kind are such as it is mostly impossible, unless by accidental self-betrayal, to bring home to conviction. the gravest of them is, to argue sophistically, to suppress facts or arguments, to misstate the elements of the case, or misrepresent the opposite opinion. but all this, even to the most aggravated degree, is so continually done in perfect good faith, by persons who are not considered, and in many other respects may not deserve to be considered, ignorant or incompetent, that it is rarely possible on adequate grounds conscientiously to stamp the misrepresentation as morally culpable; and still less could law presume to interfere with this kind of controversial misconduct. with regard to what is commonly meant by intemperate discussion, namely invective, sarcasm, personality, and the like, the denunciation of these weapons would deserve more sympathy if it were ever proposed to interdict them equally to both sides; but it is only desired to restrain the employment of them against the prevailing opinion: against the unprevailing they may not only be used without general disapproval, but will be likely to obtain for him who uses them the praise of honest zeal and righteous indignation. yet whatever mischief arises from their use, is greatest when they are employed against the comparatively defenceless; and whatever unfair advantage can be derived by any opinion from this mode of asserting it, accrues almost exclusively to received opinions. the worst offence of this kind which can be committed by a polemic, is to stigmatise those who hold the contrary opinion as bad and immoral men. to calumny of this sort, those who hold any unpopular opinion are peculiarly exposed, because they are in general few and uninfluential, and nobody but themselves feel much interest in seeing justice done them; but this weapon is, from the nature of the case, denied to those who attack a prevailing opinion: they can neither use it with safety to themselves, nor, if they could, would it do anything but recoil on their own cause. in general, opinions contrary to those commonly received can only obtain a hearing by studied moderation of language, and the most cautious avoidance of unnecessary offence, from which they hardly ever deviate even in a slight degree without losing ground: while unmeasured vituperation employed on the side of the prevailing opinion, really does deter people from professing contrary opinions, and from listening to those who profess them. for the interest, therefore, of truth and justice, it is far more important to restrain this employment of vituperative language than the other; and, for example, if it were necessary to choose, there would be much more need to discourage offensive attacks on infidelity, than on religion. it is, however, obvious that law and authority have no business with restraining either, while opinion ought, in every instance, to determine its verdict by the circumstances of the individual case; condemning every one, on whichever side of the argument he places himself, in whose mode of advocacy either want of candour, or malignity, bigotry, or intolerance of feeling manifest themselves; but not inferring these vices from the side which a person takes, though it be the contrary side of the question to our own: and giving merited honour to every one, whatever opinion he may hold, who has calmness to see and honesty to state what his opponents and their opinions really are, exaggerating nothing to their discredit, keeping nothing back which tells, or can be supposed to tell, in their favour. this is the real morality of public discussion; and if often violated, i am happy to think that there are many controversialists who to a great extent observe it, and a still greater number who conscientiously strive towards it. footnotes: [ ] these words had scarcely been written, when, as if to give them an emphatic contradiction, occurred the government press prosecutions of . that ill-judged interference with the liberty of public discussion has not, however, induced me to alter a single word in the text, nor has it at all weakened my conviction that, moments of panic excepted, the era of pains and penalties for political discussion has, in our own country, passed away. for, in the first place, the prosecutions were not persisted in; and, in the second, they were never, properly speaking, political prosecutions. the offence charged was not that of criticising institutions, or the acts or persons of rulers, but of circulating what was deemed an immoral doctrine, the lawfulness of tyrannicide. if the arguments of the present chapter are of any validity, there ought to exist the fullest liberty of professing and discussing, as a matter of ethical conviction, any doctrine, however immoral it may be considered. it would, therefore, be irrelevant and out of place to examine here, whether the doctrine of tyrannicide deserves that title. i shall content myself with saying, that the subject has been at all times one of the open questions of morals; that the act of a private citizen in striking down a criminal, who, by raising himself above the law, has placed himself beyond the reach of legal punishment or control, has been accounted by whole nations, and by some of the best and wisest of men, not a crime, but an act of exalted virtue; and that, right or wrong, it is not of the nature of assassination, but of civil war. as such, i hold that the instigation to it, in a specific case, may be a proper subject of punishment, but only if an overt act has followed, and at least a probable connection can be established between the act and the instigation. even then, it is not a foreign government, but the very government assailed, which alone, in the exercise of self-defence, can legitimately punish attacks directed against its own existence. [ ] thomas pooley, bodmin assizes, july , . in december following, he received a free pardon from the crown. [ ] george jacob holyoake, august , ; edward truelove, july, . [ ] baron de gleichen, marlborough-street police court, august , . [ ] ample warning may be drawn from the large infusion of the passions of a persecutor, which mingled with the general display of the worst parts of our national character on the occasion of the sepoy insurrection. the ravings of fanatics or charlatans from the pulpit may be unworthy of notice; but the heads of the evangelical party have announced as their principle, for the government of hindoos and mahomedans, that no schools be supported by public money in which the bible is not taught, and by necessary consequence that no public employment be given to any but real or pretended christians. an under-secretary of state, in a speech delivered to his constituents on the th of november, , is reported to have said: "toleration of their faith" (the faith of a hundred millions of british subjects), "the superstition which they called religion, by the british government, had had the effect of retarding the ascendency of the british name, and preventing the salutary growth of christianity.... toleration was the great corner-stone of the religious liberties of this country; but do not let them abuse that precious word toleration. as he understood it, it meant the complete liberty to all, freedom of worship, _among christians, who worshipped upon the same foundation_. it meant toleration of all sects and denominations of _christians who believed in the one mediation_." i desire to call attention to the fact, that a man who has been deemed fit to fill a high office in the government of this country, under a liberal ministry, maintains the doctrine that all who do not believe in the divinity of christ are beyond the pale of toleration. who, after this imbecile display, can indulge the illusion that religious persecution has passed away, never to return? chapter iii. of individuality, as one of the elements of well-being. such being the reasons which make it imperative that human beings should be free to form opinions, and to express their opinions without reserve; and such the baneful consequences to the intellectual, and through that to the moral nature of man, unless this liberty is either conceded, or asserted in spite of prohibition; let us next examine whether the same reasons do not require that men should be free to act upon their opinions--to carry these out in their lives, without hindrance, either physical or moral, from their fellow-men, so long as it is at their own risk and peril. this last proviso is of course indispensable. no one pretends that actions should be as free as opinions. on the contrary, even opinions lose their immunity, when the circumstances in which they are expressed are such as to constitute their expression a positive instigation to some mischievous act. an opinion that corn-dealers are starvers of the poor, or that private property is robbery, ought to be unmolested when simply circulated through the press, but may justly incur punishment when delivered orally to an excited mob assembled before the house of a corn-dealer, or when handed about among the same mob in the form of a placard. acts, of whatever kind, which, without justifiable cause, do harm to others, may be, and in the more important cases absolutely require to be, controlled by the unfavourable sentiments, and, when needful, by the active interference of mankind. the liberty of the individual must be thus far limited; he must not make himself a nuisance to other people. but if he refrains from molesting others in what concerns them, and merely acts according to his own inclination and judgment in things which concern himself, the same reasons which show that opinion should be free, prove also that he should be allowed, without molestation, to carry his opinions into practice at his own cost. that mankind are not infallible; that their truths, for the most part, are only half-truths; that unity of opinion, unless resulting from the fullest and freest comparison of opposite opinions, is not desirable, and diversity not an evil, but a good, until mankind are much more capable than at present of recognising all sides of the truth, are principles applicable to men's modes of action, not less than to their opinions. as it is useful that while mankind are imperfect there should be different opinions, so is it that there should be different experiments of living; that free scope should be given to varieties of character, short of injury to others; and that the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically, when any one thinks fit to try them. it is desirable, in short, that in things which do not primarily concern others, individuality should assert itself. where, not the person's own character, but the traditions or customs of other people are the rule of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal ingredients of human happiness, and quite the chief ingredient of individual and social progress. in maintaining this principle, the greatest difficulty to be encountered does not lie in the appreciation of means towards an acknowledged end, but in the indifference of persons in general to the end itself. if it were felt that the free development of individuality is one of the leading essentials of well-being; that it is not only a co-ordinate element with all that is designated by the terms civilisation, instruction, education, culture, but is itself a necessary part and condition of all those things; there would be no danger that liberty should be under-valued, and the adjustment of the boundaries between it and social control would present no extraordinary difficulty. but the evil is, that individual spontaneity is hardly recognised by the common modes of thinking, as having any intrinsic worth, or deserving any regard on its own account. the majority, being satisfied with the ways of mankind as they now are (for it is they who make them what they are), cannot comprehend why those ways should not be good enough for everybody; and what is more, spontaneity forms no part of the ideal of the majority of moral and social reformers, but is rather looked on with jealousy, as a troublesome and perhaps rebellious obstruction to the general acceptance of what these reformers, in their own judgment, think would be best for mankind. few persons, out of germany, even comprehend the meaning of the doctrine which wilhelm von humboldt, so eminent both as a _savant_ and as a politician, made the text of a treatise--that "the end of man, or that which is prescribed by the eternal or immutable dictates of reason, and not suggested by vague and transient desires, is the highest and most harmonious development of his powers to a complete and consistent whole;" that, therefore, the object "towards which every human being must ceaselessly direct his efforts, and on which especially those who design to influence their fellow-men must ever keep their eyes, is the individuality of power and development;" that for this there are two requisites, "freedom, and a variety of situations;" and that from the union of these arise "individual vigour and manifold diversity," which combine themselves in "originality."[ ] little, however, as people are accustomed to a doctrine like that of von humboldt, and surprising as it may be to them to find so high a value attached to individuality, the question, one must nevertheless think, can only be one of degree. no one's idea of excellence in conduct is that people should do absolutely nothing but copy one another. no one would assert that people ought not to put into their mode of life, and into the conduct of their concerns, any impress whatever of their own judgment, or of their own individual character. on the other hand, it would be absurd to pretend that people ought to live as if nothing whatever had been known in the world before they came into it; as if experience had as yet done nothing towards showing that one mode of existence, or of conduct, is preferable to another. nobody denies that people should be so taught and trained in youth, as to know and benefit by the ascertained results of human experience. but it is the privilege and proper condition of a human being, arrived at the maturity of his faculties, to use and interpret experience in his own way. it is for him to find out what part of recorded experience is properly applicable to his own circumstances and character. the traditions and customs of other people are, to a certain extent, evidence of what their experience has taught _them_; presumptive evidence, and as such, have a claim to his deference: but, in the first place, their experience may be too narrow; or they may not have interpreted it rightly. secondly, their interpretation of experience may be correct, but unsuitable to him. customs are made for customary circumstances, and customary characters: and his circumstances or his character may be uncustomary. thirdly, though the customs be both good as customs, and suitable to him, yet to conform to custom, merely _as_ custom, does not educate or develop in him any of the qualities which are the distinctive endowment of a human being. the human faculties of perception, judgment, discriminative feeling, mental activity, and even moral preference, are exercised only in making a choice. he who does anything because it is the custom, makes no choice. he gains no practice either in discerning or in desiring what is best. the mental and moral, like the muscular powers, are improved only by being used. the faculties are called into no exercise by doing a thing merely because others do it, no more than by believing a thing only because others believe it. if the grounds of an opinion are not conclusive to the person's own reason, his reason cannot be strengthened, but is likely to be weakened by his adopting it: and if the inducements to an act are not such as are consentaneous to his own feelings and character (where affection, or the rights of others, are not concerned), it is so much done towards rendering his feelings and character inert and torpid, instead of active and energetic. he who lets the world, or his own portion of it, choose his plan of life for him, has no need of any other faculty than the ape-like one of imitation. he who chooses his plan for himself, employs all his faculties. he must use observation to see, reasoning and judgment to foresee, activity to gather materials for decision, discrimination to decide, and when he has decided, firmness and self-control to hold to his deliberate decision. and these qualities he requires and exercises exactly in proportion as the part of his conduct which he determines according to his own judgment and feelings is a large one. it is possible that he might be guided in some good path, and kept out of harm's way, without any of these things. but what will be his comparative worth as a human being? it really is of importance, not only what men do, but also what manner of men they are that do it. among the works of man, which human life is rightly employed in perfecting and beautifying, the first in importance surely is man himself. supposing it were possible to get houses built, corn grown, battles fought, causes tried, and even churches erected and prayers said, by machinery--by automatons in human form--it would be a considerable loss to exchange for these automatons even the men and women who at present inhabit the more civilised parts of the world, and who assuredly are but starved specimens of what nature can and will produce. human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, and set to do exactly the work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces which make it a living thing. it will probably be conceded that it is desirable people should exercise their understandings, and that an intelligent following of custom, or even occasionally an intelligent deviation from custom, is better than a blind and simply mechanical adhesion to it. to a certain extent it is admitted, that our understanding should be our own: but there is not the same willingness to admit that our desires and impulses should be our own likewise; or that to possess impulses of our own, and of any strength, is anything but a peril and a snare. yet desires and impulses are as much a part of a perfect human being, as beliefs and restraints: and strong impulses are only perilous when not properly balanced; when one set of aims and inclinations is developed into strength, while others, which ought to co-exist with them, remain weak and inactive. it is not because men's desires are strong that they act ill; it is because their consciences are weak. there is no natural connection between strong impulses and a weak conscience. the natural connection is the other way. to say that one person's desires and feelings are stronger and more various than those of another, is merely to say that he has more of the raw material of human nature, and is therefore capable, perhaps of more evil, but certainly of more good. strong impulses are but another name for energy. energy may be turned to bad uses; but more good may always be made of an energetic nature, than of an indolent and impassive one. those who have most natural feeling, are always those whose cultivated feelings may be made the strongest. the same strong susceptibilities which make the personal impulses vivid and powerful, are also the source from whence are generated the most passionate love of virtue, and the sternest self-control. it is through the cultivation of these, that society both does its duty and protects its interests: not by rejecting the stuff of which heroes are made, because it knows not how to make them. a person whose desires and impulses are his own--are the expression of his own nature, as it has been developed and modified by his own culture--is said to have a character. one whose desires and impulses are not his own, has no character, no more than a steam-engine has a character. if, in addition to being his own, his impulses are strong, and are under the government of a strong will, he has an energetic character. whoever thinks that individuality of desires and impulses should not be encouraged to unfold itself, must maintain that society has no need of strong natures--is not the better for containing many persons who have much character--and that a high general average of energy is not desirable. in some early states of society, these forces might be, and were, too much ahead of the power which society then possessed of disciplining and controlling them. there has been a time when the element of spontaneity and individuality was in excess, and the social principle had a hard struggle with it. the difficulty then was, to induce men of strong bodies or minds to pay obedience to any rules which required them to control their impulses. to overcome this difficulty, law and discipline, like the popes struggling against the emperors, asserted a power over the whole man, claiming to control all his life in order to control his character--which society had not found any other sufficient means of binding. but society has now fairly got the better of individuality; and the danger which threatens human nature is not the excess, but the deficiency, of personal impulses and preferences. things are vastly changed, since the passions of those who were strong by station or by personal endowment were in a state of habitual rebellion against laws and ordinances, and required to be rigorously chained up to enable the persons within their reach to enjoy any particle of security. in our times, from the highest class of society down to the lowest, every one lives as under the eye of a hostile and dreaded censorship. not only in what concerns others, but in what concerns only themselves, the individual, or the family, do not ask themselves--what do i prefer? or, what would suit my character and disposition? or, what would allow the best and highest in me to have fair-play, and enable it to grow and thrive? they ask themselves, what is suitable to my position? what is usually done by persons of my station and pecuniary circumstances? or (worse still) what is usually done by persons of a station and circumstances superior to mine? i do not mean that they choose what is customary, in preference to what suits their own inclination. it does not occur to them to have any inclination, except for what is customary. thus the mind itself is bowed to the yoke: even in what people do for pleasure, conformity is the first thing thought of; they live in crowds; they exercise choice only among things commonly done: peculiarity of taste, eccentricity of conduct, are shunned equally with crimes: until by dint of not following their own nature, they have no nature to follow: their human capacities are withered and starved: they become incapable of any strong wishes or native pleasures, and are generally without either opinions or feelings of home growth, or properly their own. now is this, or is it not, the desirable condition of human nature? it is so, on the calvinistic theory. according to that, the one great offence of man is self-will. all the good of which humanity is capable, is comprised in obedience. you have no choice; thus you must do, and no otherwise: "whatever is not a duty, is a sin." human nature being radically corrupt, there is no redemption for any one until human nature is killed within him. to one holding this theory of life, crushing out any of the human faculties, capacities, and susceptibilities, is no evil: man needs no capacity, but that of surrendering himself to the will of god: and if he uses any of his faculties for any other purpose but to do that supposed will more effectually, he is better without them. that is the theory of calvinism; and it is held, in a mitigated form, by many who do not consider themselves calvinists; the mitigation consisting in giving a less ascetic interpretation to the alleged will of god; asserting it to be his will that mankind should gratify some of their inclinations; of course not in the manner they themselves prefer, but in the way of obedience, that is, in a way prescribed to them by authority; and, therefore, by the necessary conditions of the case, the same for all. in some such insidious form there is at present a strong tendency to this narrow theory of life, and to the pinched and hidebound type of human character which it patronises. many persons, no doubt, sincerely think that human beings thus cramped and dwarfed, are as their maker designed them to be; just as many have thought that trees are a much finer thing when clipped into pollards, or cut out into figures of animals, than as nature made them. but if it be any part of religion to believe that man was made by a good being, it is more consistent with that faith to believe, that this being gave all human faculties that they might be cultivated and unfolded, not rooted out and consumed, and that he takes delight in every nearer approach made by his creatures to the ideal conception embodied in them, every increase in any of their capabilities of comprehension, of action, or of enjoyment. there is a different type of human excellence from the calvinistic; a conception of humanity as having its nature bestowed on it for other purposes than merely to be abnegated. "pagan self-assertion" is one of the elements of human worth, as well as "christian self-denial."[ ] there is a greek ideal of self-development, which the platonic and christian ideal of self-government blends with, but does not supersede. it may be better to be a john knox than an alcibiades, but it is better to be a pericles than either; nor would a pericles, if we had one in these days, be without anything good which belonged to john knox. it is not by wearing down into uniformity all that is individual in themselves, but by cultivating it and calling it forth, within the limits imposed by the rights and interests of others, that human beings become a noble and beautiful object of contemplation; and as the works partake the character of those who do them, by the same process human life also becomes rich, diversified, and animating, furnishing more abundant aliment to high thoughts and elevating feelings, and strengthening the tie which binds every individual to the race, by making the race infinitely better worth belonging to. in proportion to the development of his individuality, each person becomes more valuable to himself, and is therefore capable of being more valuable to others. there is a greater fulness of life about his own existence, and when there is more life in the units there is more in the mass which is composed of them. as much compression as is necessary to prevent the stronger specimens of human nature from encroaching on the rights of others, cannot be dispensed with; but for this there is ample compensation even in the point of view of human development. the means of development which the individual loses by being prevented from gratifying his inclinations to the injury of others, are chiefly obtained at the expense of the development of other people. and even to himself there is a full equivalent in the better development of the social part of his nature, rendered possible by the restraint put upon the selfish part. to be held to rigid rules of justice for the sake of others, develops the feelings and capacities which have the good of others for their object. but to be restrained in things not affecting their good, by their mere displeasure, develops nothing valuable, except such force of character as may unfold itself in resisting the restraint. if acquiesced in, it dulls and blunts the whole nature. to give any fair-play to the nature of each, it is essential that different persons should be allowed to lead different lives. in proportion as this latitude has been exercised in any age, has that age been noteworthy to posterity. even despotism does not produce its worst effects, so long as individuality exists under it; and whatever crushes individuality is despotism, by whatever name it may be called, and whether it professes to be enforcing the will of god or the injunctions of men. having said that individuality is the same thing with development, and that it is only the cultivation of individuality which produces, or can produce, well-developed human beings, i might here close the argument: for what more or better can be said of any condition of human affairs, than that it brings human beings themselves nearer to the best thing they can be? or what worse can be said of any obstruction to good, than that it prevents this? doubtless, however, these considerations will not suffice to convince those who most need convincing; and it is necessary further to show, that these developed human beings are of some use to the undeveloped--to point out to those who do not desire liberty, and would not avail themselves of it, that they may be in some intelligible manner rewarded for allowing other people to make use of it without hindrance. in the first place, then, i would suggest that they might possibly learn something from them. it will not be denied by anybody, that originality is a valuable element in human affairs. there is always need of persons not only to discover new truths, and point out when what were once truths are true no longer, but also to commence new practices, and set the example of more enlightened conduct, and better taste and sense in human life. this cannot well be gainsaid by anybody who does not believe that the world has already attained perfection in all its ways and practices. it is true that this benefit is not capable of being rendered by everybody alike: there are but few persons, in comparison with the whole of mankind, whose experiments, if adopted by others, would be likely to be any improvement on established practice. but these few are the salt of the earth; without them, human life would become a stagnant pool. not only is it they who introduce good things which did not before exist; it is they who keep the life in those which already existed. if there were nothing new to be done, would human intellect cease to be necessary? would it be a reason why those who do the old things should forget why they are done, and do them like cattle, not like human beings? there is only too great a tendency in the best beliefs and practices to degenerate into the mechanical; and unless there were a succession of persons whose ever-recurring originality prevents the grounds of those beliefs and practices from becoming merely traditional, such dead matter would not resist the smallest shock from anything really alive, and there would be no reason why civilisation should not die out, as in the byzantine empire. persons of genius, it is true, are, and are always likely to be, a small minority; but in order to have them, it is necessary to preserve the soil in which they grow. genius can only breathe freely in an _atmosphere_ of freedom. persons of genius are, _ex vi termini_, _more_ individual than any other people--less capable, consequently, of fitting themselves, without hurtful compression, into any of the small number of moulds which society provides in order to save its members the trouble of forming their own character. if from timidity they consent to be forced into one of these moulds, and to let all that part of themselves which cannot expand under the pressure remain unexpanded, society will be little the better for their genius. if they are of a strong character, and break their fetters, they become a mark for the society which has not succeeded in reducing them to commonplace, to point at with solemn warning as "wild," "erratic," and the like; much as if one should complain of the niagara river for not flowing smoothly between its banks like a dutch canal. i insist thus emphatically on the importance of genius, and the necessity of allowing it to unfold itself freely both in thought and in practice, being well aware that no one will deny the position in theory, but knowing also that almost every one, in reality, is totally indifferent to it. people think genius a fine thing if it enables a man to write an exciting poem, or paint a picture. but in its true sense, that of originality in thought and action, though no one says that it is not a thing to be admired, nearly all, at heart, think that they can do very well without it. unhappily this is too natural to be wondered at. originality is the one thing which unoriginal minds cannot feel the use of. they cannot see what it is to do for them: how should they? if they could see what it would do for them, it would not be originality. the first service which originality has to render them, is that of opening their eyes: which being once fully done, they would have a chance of being themselves original. meanwhile, recollecting that nothing was ever yet done which some one was not the first to do, and that all good things which exist are the fruits of originality, let them be modest enough to believe that there is something still left for it to accomplish, and assure themselves that they are more in need of originality, the less they are conscious of the want. in sober truth, whatever homage may be professed, or even paid, to real or supposed mental superiority, the general tendency of things throughout the world is to render mediocrity the ascendant power among mankind. in ancient history, in the middle ages, and in a diminishing degree through the long transition from feudality to the present time, the individual was a power in himself; and if he had either great talents or a high social position, he was a considerable power. at present individuals are lost in the crowd. in politics it is almost a triviality to say that public opinion now rules the world. the only power deserving the name is that of masses, and of governments while they make themselves the organ of the tendencies and instincts of masses. this is as true in the moral and social relations of private life as in public transactions. those whose opinions go by the name of public opinion, are not always the same sort of public: in america they are the whole white population; in england, chiefly the middle class. but they are always a mass, that is to say, collective mediocrity. and what is a still greater novelty, the mass do not now take their opinions from dignitaries in church or state, from ostensible leaders, or from books. their thinking is done for them by men much like themselves, addressing them or speaking in their name, on the spur of the moment, through the newspapers. i am not complaining of all this. i do not assert that anything better is compatible, as a general rule, with the present low state of the human mind. but that does not hinder the government of mediocrity from being mediocre government. no government by a democracy or a numerous aristocracy, either in its political acts or in the opinions, qualities, and tone of mind which it fosters, ever did or could rise above mediocrity, except in so far as the sovereign many have let themselves be guided (which in their best times they always have done) by the counsels and influence of a more highly gifted and instructed one or few. the initiation of all wise or noble things, comes and must come from individuals; generally at first from some one individual. the honour and glory of the average man is that he is capable of following that initiative; that he can respond internally to wise and noble things, and be led to them with his eyes open. i am not countenancing the sort of "hero-worship" which applauds the strong man of genius for forcibly seizing on the government of the world and making it do his bidding in spite of itself. all he can claim is, freedom to point out the way. the power of compelling others into it, is not only inconsistent with the freedom and development of all the rest, but corrupting to the strong man himself. it does seem, however, that when the opinions of masses of merely average men are everywhere become or becoming the dominant power, the counterpoise and corrective to that tendency would be, the more and more pronounced individuality of those who stand on the higher eminences of thought. it is in these circumstances most especially, that exceptional individuals, instead of being deterred, should be encouraged in acting differently from the mass. in other times there was no advantage in their doing so, unless they acted not only differently, but better. in this age the mere example of nonconformity, the mere refusal to bend the knee to custom, is itself a service. precisely because the tyranny of opinion is such as to make eccentricity a reproach, it is desirable, in order to break through that tyranny, that people should be eccentric. eccentricity has always abounded when and where strength of character has abounded; and the amount of eccentricity in a society has generally been proportional to the amount of genius, mental vigour, and moral courage which it contained. that so few now dare to be eccentric, marks the chief danger of the time. i have said that it is important to give the freest scope possible to uncustomary things, in order that it may in time appear which of these are fit to be converted into customs. but independence of action, and disregard of custom are not solely deserving of encouragement for the chance they afford that better modes of action, and customs more worthy of general adoption, may be struck out; nor is it only persons of decided mental superiority who have a just claim to carry on their lives in their own way. there is no reason that all human existences should be constructed on some one, or some small number of patterns. if a person possesses any tolerable amount of common-sense and experience, his own mode of laying out his existence is the best, not because it is the best in itself, but because it is his own mode. human beings are not like sheep; and even sheep are not undistinguishably alike. a man cannot get a coat or a pair of boots to fit him, unless they are either made to his measure, or he has a whole warehouseful to choose from: and is it easier to fit him with a life than with a coat, or are human beings more like one another in their whole physical and spiritual conformation than in the shape of their feet? if it were only that people have diversities of taste, that is reason enough for not attempting to shape them all after one model. but different persons also require different conditions for their spiritual development; and can no more exist healthily in the same moral, than all the variety of plants can in the same physical, atmosphere and climate. the same things which are helps to one person towards the cultivation of his higher nature, are hindrances to another. the same mode of life is a healthy excitement to one, keeping all his faculties of action and enjoyment in their best order, while to another it is a distracting burthen, which suspends or crushes all internal life. such are the differences among human beings in their sources of pleasure, their susceptibilities of pain, and the operation on them of different physical and moral agencies, that unless there is a corresponding diversity in their modes of life, they neither obtain their fair share of happiness, nor grow up to the mental, moral, and aesthetic stature of which their nature is capable. why then should tolerance, as far as the public sentiment is concerned, extend only to tastes and modes of life which extort acquiescence by the multitude of their adherents? nowhere (except in some monastic institutions) is diversity of taste entirely unrecognised; a person may, without blame, either like or dislike rowing, or smoking, or music, or athletic exercises, or chess, or cards, or study, because both those who like each of these things, and those who dislike them, are too numerous to be put down. but the man, and still more the woman, who can be accused either of doing "what nobody does," or of not doing "what everybody does," is the subject of as much depreciatory remark as if he or she had committed some grave moral delinquency. persons require to possess a title, or some other badge of rank, or of the consideration of people of rank, to be able to indulge somewhat in the luxury of doing as they like without detriment to their estimation. to indulge somewhat, i repeat: for whoever allow themselves much of that indulgence, incur the risk of something worse than disparaging speeches--they are in peril of a commission _de lunatico_, and of having their property taken from them and given to their relations.[ ] there is one characteristic of the present direction of public opinion, peculiarly calculated to make it intolerant of any marked demonstration of individuality. the general average of mankind are not only moderate in intellect, but also moderate in inclinations: they have no tastes or wishes strong enough to incline them to do anything unusual, and they consequently do not understand those who have, and class all such with the wild and intemperate whom they are accustomed to look down upon. now, in addition to this fact which is general, we have only to suppose that a strong movement has set in towards the improvement of morals, and it is evident what we have to expect. in these days such a movement has set in; much has actually been effected in the way of increased regularity of conduct, and discouragement of excesses; and there is a philanthropic spirit abroad, for the exercise of which there is no more inviting field than the moral and prudential improvement of our fellow-creatures. these tendencies of the times cause the public to be more disposed than at most former periods to prescribe general rules of conduct, and endeavour to make every one conform to the approved standard. and that standard, express or tacit, is to desire nothing strongly. its ideal of character is to be without any marked character; to maim by compression, like a chinese lady's foot, every part of human nature which stands out prominently, and tends to make the person markedly dissimilar in outline to commonplace humanity. as is usually the case with ideals which exclude one-half of what is desirable, the present standard of approbation produces only an inferior imitation of the other half. instead of great energies guided by vigorous reason, and strong feelings strongly controlled by a conscientious will, its result is weak feelings and weak energies, which therefore can be kept in outward conformity to rule without any strength either of will or of reason. already energetic characters on any large scale are becoming merely traditional. there is now scarcely any outlet for energy in this country except business. the energy expended in that may still be regarded as considerable. what little is left from that employment, is expended on some hobby; which may be a useful, even a philanthropic hobby, but is always some one thing, and generally a thing of small dimensions. the greatness of england is now all collective: individually small, we only appear capable of anything great by our habit of combining; and with this our moral and religious philanthropists are perfectly contented. but it was men of another stamp than this that made england what it has been; and men of another stamp will be needed to prevent its decline. the despotism of custom is everywhere the standing hindrance to human advancement, being in unceasing antagonism to that disposition to aim at something better than customary, which is called, according to circumstances, the spirit of liberty, or that of progress or improvement. the spirit of improvement is not always a spirit of liberty, for it may aim at forcing improvements on an unwilling people; and the spirit of liberty, in so far as it resists such attempts, may ally itself locally and temporarily with the opponents of improvement; but the only unfailing and permanent source of improvement is liberty, since by it there are as many possible independent centres of improvement as there are individuals. the progressive principle, however, in either shape, whether as the love of liberty or of improvement, is antagonistic to the sway of custom, involving at least emancipation from that yoke; and the contest between the two constitutes the chief interest of the history of mankind. the greater part of the world has, properly speaking, no history, because the despotism of custom is complete. this is the case over the whole east. custom is there, in all things, the final appeal; justice and right mean conformity to custom; the argument of custom no one, unless some tyrant intoxicated with power, thinks of resisting. and we see the result. those nations must once have had originality; they did not start out of the ground populous, lettered, and versed in many of the arts of life; they made themselves all this, and were then the greatest and most powerful nations in the world. what are they now? the subjects or dependants of tribes whose forefathers wandered in the forests when theirs had magnificent palaces and gorgeous temples, but over whom custom exercised only a divided rule with liberty and progress. a people, it appears, may be progressive for a certain length of time, and then stop: when does it stop? when it ceases to possess individuality. if a similar change should befall the nations of europe, it will not be in exactly the same shape: the despotism of custom with which these nations are threatened is not precisely stationariness. it proscribes singularity, but it does not preclude change, provided all change together. we have discarded the fixed costumes of our forefathers; every one must still dress like other people, but the fashion may change once or twice a year. we thus take care that when there is change, it shall be for change's sake, and not from any idea of beauty or convenience; for the same idea of beauty or convenience would not strike all the world at the same moment, and be simultaneously thrown aside by all at another moment. but we are progressive as well as changeable: we continually make new inventions in mechanical things, and keep them until they are again superseded by better; we are eager for improvement in politics, in education, even in morals, though in this last our idea of improvement chiefly consists in persuading or forcing other people to be as good as ourselves. it is not progress that we object to; on the contrary, we flatter ourselves that we are the most progressive people who ever lived. it is individuality that we war against: we should think we had done wonders if we had made ourselves all alike; forgetting that the unlikeness of one person to another is generally the first thing which draws the attention of either to the imperfection of his own type, and the superiority of another, or the possibility, by combining the advantages of both, of producing something better than either. we have a warning example in china--a nation of much talent, and, in some respects, even wisdom, owing to the rare good fortune of having been provided at an early period with a particularly good set of customs, the work, in some measure, of men to whom even the most enlightened european must accord, under certain limitations, the title of sages and philosophers. they are remarkable, too, in the excellence of their apparatus for impressing, as far as possible, the best wisdom they possess upon every mind in the community, and securing that those who have appropriated most of it shall occupy the posts of honour and power. surely the people who did this have discovered the secret of human progressiveness, and must have kept themselves steadily at the head of the movement of the world. on the contrary, they have become stationary--have remained so for thousands of years; and if they are ever to be farther improved, it must be by foreigners. they have succeeded beyond all hope in what english philanthropists are so industriously working at--in making a people all alike, all governing their thoughts and conduct by the same maxims and rules; and these are the fruits. the modern _régime_ of public opinion is, in an unorganised form, what the chinese educational and political systems are in an organised; and unless individuality shall be able successfully to assert itself against this yoke, europe, notwithstanding its noble antecedents and its professed christianity, will tend to become another china. what is it that has hitherto preserved europe from this lot? what has made the european family of nations an improving, instead of a stationary portion of mankind? not any superior excellence in them, which, when it exists, exists as the effect, not as the cause; but their remarkable diversity of character and culture. individuals, classes, nations, have been extremely unlike one another: they have struck out a great variety of paths, each leading to something valuable; and although at every period those who travelled in different paths have been intolerant of one another, and each would have thought it an excellent thing if all the rest could have been compelled to travel his road, their attempts to thwart each other's development have rarely had any permanent success, and each has in time endured to receive the good which the others have offered. europe is, in my judgment, wholly indebted to this plurality of paths for its progressive and many-sided development. but it already begins to possess this benefit in a considerably less degree. it is decidedly advancing towards the chinese ideal of making all people alike. m. de tocqueville, in his last important work, remarks how much more the frenchmen of the present day resemble one another, than did those even of the last generation. the same remark might be made of englishmen in a far greater degree. in a passage already quoted from wilhelm von humboldt, he points out two things as necessary conditions of human development, because necessary to render people unlike one another; namely, freedom, and variety of situations. the second of these two conditions is in this country every day diminishing. the circumstances which surround different classes and individuals, and shape their characters, are daily becoming more assimilated. formerly, different ranks, different neighbourhoods, different trades and professions, lived in what might be called different worlds; at present, to a great degree in the same. comparatively speaking, they now read the same things, listen to the same things, see the same things, go to the same places, have their hopes and fears directed to the same objects, have the same rights and liberties, and the same means of asserting them. great as are the differences of position which remain, they are nothing to those which have ceased. and the assimilation is still proceeding. all the political changes of the age promote it, since they all tend to raise the low and to lower the high. every extension of education promotes it, because education brings people under common influences, and gives them access to the general stock of facts and sentiments. improvements in the means of communication promote it, by bringing the inhabitants of distant places into personal contact, and keeping up a rapid flow of changes of residence between one place and another. the increase of commerce and manufactures promotes it, by diffusing more widely the advantages of easy circumstances, and opening all objects of ambition, even the highest, to general competition, whereby the desire of rising becomes no longer the character of a particular class, but of all classes. a more powerful agency than even all these, in bringing about a general similarity among mankind, is the complete establishment, in this and other free countries, of the ascendency of public opinion in the state. as the various social eminences which enabled persons entrenched on them to disregard the opinion of the multitude, gradually become levelled; as the very idea of resisting the will of the public, when it is positively known that they have a will, disappears more and more from the minds of practical politicians; there ceases to be any social support for non-conformity--any substantive power in society, which, itself opposed to the ascendency of numbers, is interested in taking under its protection opinions and tendencies at variance with those of the public. the combination of all these causes forms so great a mass of influences hostile to individuality, that it is not easy to see how it can stand its ground. it will do so with increasing difficulty, unless the intelligent part of the public can be made to feel its value--to see that it is good there should be differences, even though not for the better, even though, as it may appear to them, some should be for the worse. if the claims of individuality are ever to be asserted, the time is now, while much is still wanting to complete the enforced assimilation. it is only in the earlier stages that any stand can be successfully made against the encroachment. the demand that all other people shall resemble ourselves, grows by what it feeds on. if resistance waits till life is reduced _nearly_ to one uniform type, all deviations from that type will come to be considered impious, immoral, even monstrous and contrary to nature. mankind speedily become unable to conceive diversity, when they have been for some time unaccustomed to see it. footnotes: [ ] _the sphere and duties of government_, from the german of baron wilhelm von humboldt, pp. - . [ ] sterling's _essays_. [ ] there is something both contemptible and frightful in the sort of evidence on which, of late years, any person can be judicially declared unfit for the management of his affairs; and after his death, his disposal of his property can be set aside, if there is enough of it to pay the expenses of litigation--which are charged on the property itself. all the minute details of his daily life are pried into, and whatever is found which, seen through the medium of the perceiving and describing faculties of the lowest of the low, bears an appearance unlike absolute commonplace, is laid before the jury as evidence of insanity, and often with success; the jurors being little, if at all, less vulgar and ignorant than the witnesses; while the judges, with that extraordinary want of knowledge of human nature and life which continually astonishes us in english lawyers, often help to mislead them. these trials speak volumes as to the state of feeling and opinion among the vulgar with regard to human liberty. so far from setting any value on individuality--so far from respecting the rights of each individual to act, in things indifferent, as seems good to his own judgment and inclinations, judges and juries cannot even conceive that a person in a state of sanity can desire such freedom. in former days, when it was proposed to burn atheists, charitable people used to suggest putting them in a madhouse instead: it would be nothing surprising nowadays were we to see this done, and the doers applauding themselves, because, instead of persecuting for religion, they had adopted so humane and christian a mode of treating these unfortunates, not without a silent satisfaction at their having thereby obtained their deserts. chapter iv. of the limits to the authority of society over the individual. what, then, is the rightful limit to the sovereignty of the individual over himself? where does the authority of society begin? how much of human life should be assigned to individuality, and how much to society? each will receive its proper share, if each has that which more particularly concerns it. to individuality should belong the part of life in which it is chiefly the individual that is interested; to society, the part which chiefly interests society. though society is not founded on a contract, and though no good purpose is answered by inventing a contract in order to deduce social obligations from it, every one who receives the protection of society owes a return for the benefit, and the fact of living in society renders it indispensable that each should be bound to observe a certain line of conduct towards the rest. this conduct consists, first, in not injuring the interests of one another; or rather certain interests which, either by express legal provision or by tacit understanding, ought to be considered as rights; and secondly, in each person's bearing his share (to be fixed on some equitable principle) of the labours and sacrifices incurred for defending the society or its members from injury and molestation. these conditions society is justified in enforcing, at all costs to those who endeavour to withhold fulfilment. nor is this all that society may do. the acts of an individual may be hurtful to others, or wanting in due consideration for their welfare, without going the length of violating any of their constituted rights. the offender may then be justly punished by opinion though not by law. as soon as any part of a person's conduct affects prejudicially the interests of others, society has jurisdiction over it, and the question whether the general welfare will or will not be promoted by interfering with it, becomes open to discussion. but there is no room for entertaining any such question when a person's conduct affects the interests of no persons besides himself, or needs not affect them unless they like (all the persons concerned being of full age, and the ordinary amount of understanding). in all such cases there should be perfect freedom, legal and social, to do the action and stand the consequences. it would be a great misunderstanding of this doctrine, to suppose that it is one of selfish indifference, which pretends that human beings have no business with each other's conduct in life, and that they should not concern themselves about the well-doing or well-being of one another, unless their own interest is involved. instead of any diminution, there is need of a great increase of disinterested exertion to promote the good of others. but disinterested benevolence can find other instruments to persuade people to their good, than whips and scourges, either of the literal or the metaphorical sort. i am the last person to undervalue the self-regarding virtues; they are only second in importance, if even second, to the social. it is equally the business of education to cultivate both. but even education works by conviction and persuasion as well as by compulsion, and it is by the former only that, when the period of education is past, the self-regarding virtues should be inculcated. human beings owe to each other help to distinguish the better from the worse, and encouragement to choose the former and avoid the latter. they should be for ever stimulating each other to increased exercise of their higher faculties, and increased direction of their feelings and aims towards wise instead of foolish, elevating instead of degrading, objects and contemplations. but neither one person, nor any number of persons, is warranted in saying to another human creature of ripe years, that he shall not do with his life for his own benefit what he chooses to do with it. he is the person most interested in his own well-being: the interest which any other person, except in cases of strong personal attachment, can have in it, is trifling, compared with that which he himself has; the interest which society has in him individually (except as to his conduct to others) is fractional, and altogether indirect: while, with respect to his own feelings and circumstances, the most ordinary man or woman has means of knowledge immeasurably surpassing those that can be possessed by any one else. the interference of society to overrule his judgment and purposes in what only regards himself, must be grounded on general presumptions; which may be altogether wrong, and even if right, are as likely as not to be misapplied to individual cases, by persons no better acquainted with the circumstances of such cases than those are who look at them merely from without. in this department, therefore, of human affairs, individuality has its proper field of action. in the conduct of human beings towards one another, it is necessary that general rules should for the most part be observed, in order that people may know what they have to expect; but in each person's own concerns, his individual spontaneity is entitled to free exercise. considerations to aid his judgment, exhortations to strengthen his will, may be offered to him, even obtruded on him, by others; but he himself is the final judge. all errors which he is likely to commit against advice and warning, are far outweighed by the evil of allowing others to constrain him to what they deem his good. i do not mean that the feelings with which a person is regarded by others, ought not to be in any way affected by his self-regarding qualities or deficiencies. this is neither possible nor desirable. if he is eminent in any of the qualities which conduce to his own good, he is, so far, a proper object of admiration. he is so much the nearer to the ideal perfection of human nature. if he is grossly deficient in those qualities, a sentiment the opposite of admiration will follow. there is a degree of folly, and a degree of what may be called (though the phrase is not unobjectionable) lowness or depravation of taste, which, though it cannot justify doing harm to the person who manifests it, renders him necessarily and properly a subject of distaste, or, in extreme cases, even of contempt: a person could not have the opposite qualities in due strength without entertaining these feelings. though doing no wrong to any one, a person may so act as to compel us to judge him, and feel to him, as a fool, or as a being of an inferior order: and since this judgment and feeling are a fact which he would prefer to avoid, it is doing him a service to warn him of it beforehand, as of any other disagreeable consequence to which he exposes himself. it would be well, indeed, if this good office were much more freely rendered than the common notions of politeness at present permit, and if one person could honestly point out to another that he thinks him in fault, without being considered unmannerly or presuming. we have a right, also, in various ways, to act upon our unfavourable opinion of any one, not to the oppression of his individuality, but in the exercise of ours. we are not bound, for example, to seek his society; we have a right to avoid it (though not to parade the avoidance), for we have a right to choose the society most acceptable to us. we have a right, and it may be our duty, to caution others against him, if we think his example or conversation likely to have a pernicious effect on those with whom he associates. we may give others a preference over him in optional good offices, except those which tend to his improvement. in these various modes a person may suffer very severe penalties at the hands of others, for faults which directly concern only himself; but he suffers these penalties only in so far as they are the natural, and, as it were, the spontaneous consequences of the faults themselves, not because they are purposely inflicted on him for the sake of punishment. a person who shows rashness, obstinacy, self-conceit--who cannot live within moderate means--who cannot restrain himself from hurtful indulgences--who pursues animal pleasures at the expense of those of feeling and intellect--must expect to be lowered in the opinion of others, and to have a less share of their favourable sentiments; but of this he has no right to complain, unless he has merited their favour by special excellence in his social relations, and has thus established a title to their good offices, which is not affected by his demerits towards himself. what i contend for is, that the inconveniences which are strictly inseparable from the unfavourable judgment of others, are the only ones to which a person should ever be subjected for that portion of his conduct and character which concerns his own good, but which does not affect the interests of others in their relations with him. acts injurious to others require a totally different treatment. encroachment on their rights; infliction on them of any loss or damage not justified by his own rights; falsehood or duplicity in dealing with them; unfair or ungenerous use of advantages over them; even selfish abstinence from defending them against injury--these are fit objects of moral reprobation, and, in grave cases, of moral retribution and punishment. and not only these acts, but the dispositions which lead to them, are properly immoral, and fit subjects of disapprobation which may rise to abhorrence. cruelty of disposition; malice and ill-nature; that most anti-social and odious of all passions, envy; dissimulation and insincerity; irascibility on insufficient cause, and resentment disproportioned to the provocation; the love of domineering over others; the desire to engross more than one's share of advantages (the [greek: pleonexia] of the greeks); the pride which derives gratification from the abasement of others; the egotism which thinks self and its concerns more important than everything else, and decides all doubtful questions in its own favour;--these are moral vices, and constitute a bad and odious moral character: unlike the self-regarding faults previously mentioned, which are not properly immoralities, and to whatever pitch they may be carried, do not constitute wickedness. they may be proofs of any amount of folly, or want of personal dignity and self-respect; but they are only a subject of moral reprobation when they involve a breach of duty to others, for whose sake the individual is bound to have care for himself. what are called duties to ourselves are not socially obligatory, unless circumstances render them at the same time duties to others. the term duty to oneself, when it means anything more than prudence, means self-respect or self-development; and for none of these is any one accountable to his fellow-creatures, because for none of them is it for the good of mankind that he be held accountable to them. the distinction between the loss of consideration which a person may rightly incur by defect of prudence or of personal dignity, and the reprobation which is due to him for an offence against the rights of others, is not a merely nominal distinction. it makes a vast difference both in our feelings and in our conduct towards him, whether he displeases us in things in which we think we have a right to control him, or in things in which we know that we have not. if he displeases us, we may express our distaste, and we may stand aloof from a person as well as from a thing that displeases us; but we shall not therefore feel called on to make his life uncomfortable. we shall reflect that he already bears, or will bear, the whole penalty of his error; if he spoils his life by mismanagement, we shall not, for that reason, desire to spoil it still further: instead of wishing to punish him, we shall rather endeavour to alleviate his punishment, by showing him how he may avoid or cure the evils his conduct tends to bring upon him. he may be to us an object of pity, perhaps of dislike, but not of anger or resentment; we shall not treat him like an enemy of society: the worst we shall think ourselves justified in doing is leaving him to himself, if we do not interfere benevolently by showing interest or concern for him. it is far otherwise if he has infringed the rules necessary for the protection of his fellow-creatures, individually or collectively. the evil consequences of his acts do not then fall on himself, but on others; and society, as the protector of all its members, must retaliate on him; must inflict pain on him for the express purpose of punishment, and must take care that it be sufficiently severe. in the one case, he is an offender at our bar, and we are called on not only to sit in judgment on him, but, in one shape or another, to execute our own sentence: in the other case, it is not our part to inflict any suffering on him, except what may incidentally follow from our using the same liberty in the regulation of our own affairs, which we allow to him in his. the distinction here pointed out between the part of a person's life which concerns only himself, and that which concerns others, many persons will refuse to admit. how (it may be asked) can any part of the conduct of a member of society be a matter of indifference to the other members? no person is an entirely isolated being; it is impossible for a person to do anything seriously or permanently hurtful to himself, without mischief reaching at least to his near connections, and often far beyond them. if he injures his property, he does harm to those who directly or indirectly derived support from it, and usually diminishes, by a greater or less amount, the general resources of the community. if he deteriorates his bodily or mental faculties, he not only brings evil upon all who depended on him for any portion of their happiness, but disqualifies himself for rendering the services which he owes to his fellow-creatures generally; perhaps becomes a burthen on their affection or benevolence; and if such conduct were very frequent, hardly any offence that is committed would detract more from the general sum of good. finally, if by his vices or follies a person does no direct harm to others, he is nevertheless (it may be said) injurious by his example; and ought to be compelled to control himself, for the sake of those whom the sight or knowledge of his conduct might corrupt or mislead. and even (it will be added) if the consequences of misconduct could be confined to the vicious or thoughtless individual, ought society to abandon to their own guidance those who are manifestly unfit for it? if protection against themselves is confessedly due to children and persons under age, is not society equally bound to afford it to persons of mature years who are equally incapable of self-government? if gambling, or drunkenness, or incontinence, or idleness, or uncleanliness, are as injurious to happiness, and as great a hindrance to improvement, as many or most of the acts prohibited by law, why (it may be asked) should not law, so far as is consistent with practicability and social convenience, endeavour to repress these also? and as a supplement to the unavoidable imperfections of law, ought not opinion at least to organise a powerful police against these vices, and visit rigidly with social penalties those who are known to practise them? there is no question here (it may be said) about restricting individuality, or impeding the trial of new and original experiments in living. the only things it is sought to prevent are things which have been tried and condemned from the beginning of the world until now; things which experience has shown not to be useful or suitable to any person's individuality. there must be some length of time and amount of experience, after which a moral or prudential truth may be regarded as established: and it is merely desired to prevent generation after generation from falling over the same precipice which has been fatal to their predecessors. i fully admit that the mischief which a person does to himself, may seriously affect, both through their sympathies and their interests, those nearly connected with him, and in a minor degree, society at large. when, by conduct of this sort, a person is led to violate a distinct and assignable obligation to any other person or persons, the case is taken out of the self-regarding class, and becomes amenable to moral disapprobation in the proper sense of the term. if, for example, a man, through intemperance or extravagance, becomes unable to pay his debts, or, having undertaken the moral responsibility of a family, becomes from the same cause incapable of supporting or educating them, he is deservedly reprobated, and might be justly punished; but it is for the breach of duty to his family or creditors, not for the extravagance. if the resources which ought to have been devoted to them, had been diverted from them for the most prudent investment, the moral culpability would have been the same. george barnwell murdered his uncle to get money for his mistress, but if he had done it to set himself up in business, he would equally have been hanged. again, in the frequent case of a man who causes grief to his family by addiction to bad habits, he deserves reproach for his unkindness or ingratitude; but so he may for cultivating habits not in themselves vicious, if they are painful to those with whom he passes his life, or who from personal ties are dependent on him for their comfort. whoever fails in the consideration generally due to the interests and feelings of others, not being compelled by some more imperative duty, or justified by allowable self-preference, is a subject of moral disapprobation for that failure, but not for the cause of it, nor for the errors, merely personal to himself, which may have remotely led to it. in like manner, when a person disables himself, by conduct purely self-regarding, from the performance of some definite duty incumbent on him to the public, he is guilty of a social offence. no person ought to be punished simply for being drunk; but a soldier or a policeman should be punished for being drunk on duty. whenever, in short, there is a definite damage, or a definite risk of damage, either to an individual or to the public, the case is taken out of the province of liberty, and placed in that of morality or law. but with regard to the merely contingent, or, as it may be called, constructive injury which a person causes to society, by conduct which neither violates any specific duty to the public, nor occasions perceptible hurt to any assignable individual except himself; the inconvenience is one which society can afford to bear, for the sake of the greater good of human freedom. if grown persons are to be punished for not taking proper care of themselves, i would rather it were for their own sake, than under pretence of preventing them from impairing their capacity of rendering to society benefits which society does not pretend it has a right to exact. but i cannot consent to argue the point as if society had no means of bringing its weaker members up to its ordinary standard of rational conduct, except waiting till they do something irrational, and then punishing them, legally or morally, for it. society has had absolute power over them during all the early portion of their existence: it has had the whole period of childhood and nonage in which to try whether it could make them capable of rational conduct in life. the existing generation is master both of the training and the entire circumstances of the generation to come; it cannot indeed make them perfectly wise and good, because it is itself so lamentably deficient in goodness and wisdom; and its best efforts are not always, in individual cases, its most successful ones; but it is perfectly well able to make the rising generation, as a whole, as good as, and a little better than, itself. if society lets any considerable number of its members grow up mere children, incapable of being acted on by rational consideration of distant motives, society has itself to blame for the consequences. armed not only with all the powers of education, but with the ascendency which the authority of a received opinion always exercises over the minds who are least fitted to judge for themselves; and aided by the _natural_ penalties which cannot be prevented from falling on those who incur the distaste or the contempt of those who know them; let not society pretend that it needs, besides all this, the power to issue commands and enforce obedience in the personal concerns of individuals, in which, on all principles of justice and policy, the decision ought to rest with those who are to abide the consequences. nor is there anything which tends more to discredit and frustrate the better means of influencing conduct, than a resort to the worse. if there be among those whom it is attempted to coerce into prudence or temperance, any of the material of which vigorous and independent characters are made, they will infallibly rebel against the yoke. no such person will ever feel that others have a right to control him in his concerns, such as they have to prevent him from injuring them in theirs; and it easily comes to be considered a mark of spirit and courage to fly in the face of such usurped authority, and do with ostentation the exact opposite of what it enjoins; as in the fashion of grossness which succeeded, in the time of charles ii., to the fanatical moral intolerance of the puritans. with respect to what is said of the necessity of protecting society from the bad example set to others by the vicious or the self-indulgent; it is true that bad example may have a pernicious effect, especially the example of doing wrong to others with impunity to the wrong-doer. but we are now speaking of conduct which, while it does no wrong to others, is supposed to do great harm to the agent himself: and i do not see how those who believe this, can think otherwise than that the example, on the whole, must be more salutary than hurtful, since, if it displays the misconduct, it displays also the painful or degrading consequences which, if the conduct is justly censured, must be supposed to be in all or most cases attendant on it. but the strongest of all the arguments against the interference of the public with purely personal conduct, is that when it does interfere, the odds are that it interferes wrongly, and in the wrong place. on questions of social morality, of duty to others, the opinion of the public, that is, of an overruling majority, though often wrong, is likely to be still oftener right; because on such questions they are only required to judge of their own interests; of the manner in which some mode of conduct, if allowed to be practised, would affect themselves. but the opinion of a similar majority, imposed as a law on the minority, on questions of self-regarding conduct, is quite as likely to be wrong as right; for in these cases public opinion means, at the best, some people's opinion of what is good or bad for other people; while very often it does not even mean that; the public, with the most perfect indifference, passing over the pleasure or convenience of those whose conduct they censure, and considering only their own preference. there are many who consider as an injury to themselves any conduct which they have a distaste for, and resent it as an outrage to their feelings; as a religious bigot, when charged with disregarding the religious feelings of others, has been known to retort that they disregard his feelings, by persisting in their abominable worship or creed. but there is no parity between the feeling of a person for his own opinion, and the feeling of another who is offended at his holding it; no more than between the desire of a thief to take a purse, and the desire of the right owner to keep it. and a person's taste is as much his own peculiar concern as his opinion or his purse. it is easy for any one to imagine an ideal public, which leaves the freedom and choice of individuals in all uncertain matters undisturbed, and only requires them to abstain from modes of conduct which universal experience has condemned. but where has there been seen a public which set any such limit to its censorship? or when does the public trouble itself about universal experience? in its interferences with personal conduct it is seldom thinking of anything but the enormity of acting or feeling differently from itself; and this standard of judgment, thinly disguised, is held up to mankind as the dictate of religion and philosophy, by nine-tenths of all moralists and speculative writers. these teach that things are right because they are right; because we feel them to be so. they tell us to search in our own minds and hearts for laws of conduct binding on ourselves and on all others. what can the poor public do but apply these instructions, and make their own personal feelings of good and evil, if they are tolerably unanimous in them, obligatory on all the world? the evil here pointed out is not one which exists only in theory; and it may perhaps be expected that i should specify the instances in which the public of this age and country improperly invests its own preferences with the character of moral laws. i am not writing an essay on the aberrations of existing moral feeling. that is too weighty a subject to be discussed parenthetically, and by way of illustration. yet examples are necessary, to show that the principle i maintain is of serious and practical moment, and that i am not endeavouring to erect a barrier against imaginary evils. and it is not difficult to show, by abundant instances, that to extend the bounds of what may be called moral police, until it encroaches on the most unquestionably legitimate liberty of the individual, is one of the most universal of all human propensities. as a first instance, consider the antipathies which men cherish on no better grounds than that persons whose religious opinions are different from theirs, do not practise their religious observances, especially their religious abstinences. to cite a rather trivial example, nothing in the creed or practice of christians does more to envenom the hatred of mahomedans against them, than the fact of their eating pork. there are few acts which christians and europeans regard with more unaffected disgust, than mussulmans regard this particular mode of satisfying hunger. it is, in the first place, an offence against their religion; but this circumstance by no means explains either the degree or the kind of their repugnance; for wine also is forbidden by their religion, and to partake of it is by all mussulmans accounted wrong, but not disgusting. their aversion to the flesh of the "unclean beast" is, on the contrary, of that peculiar character, resembling an instinctive antipathy, which the idea of uncleanness, when once it thoroughly sinks into the feelings, seems always to excite even in those whose personal habits are anything but scrupulously cleanly, and of which the sentiment of religious impurity, so intense in the hindoos, is a remarkable example. suppose now that in a people, of whom the majority were mussulmans, that majority should insist upon not permitting pork to be eaten within the limits of the country. this would be nothing new in mahomedan countries.[ ] would it be a legitimate exercise of the moral authority of public opinion? and if not, why not? the practice is really revolting to such a public. they also sincerely think that it is forbidden and abhorred by the deity. neither could the prohibition be censured as religious persecution. it might be religious in its origin, but it would not be persecution for religion, since nobody's religion makes it a duty to eat pork. the only tenable ground of condemnation would be, that with the personal tastes and self-regarding concerns of individuals the public has no business to interfere. to come somewhat nearer home: the majority of spaniards consider it a gross impiety, offensive in the highest degree to the supreme being, to worship him in any other manner than the roman catholic; and no other public worship is lawful on spanish soil. the people of all southern europe look upon a married clergy as not only irreligious, but unchaste, indecent, gross, disgusting. what do protestants think of these perfectly sincere feelings, and of the attempt to enforce them against non-catholics? yet, if mankind are justified in interfering with each other's liberty in things which do not concern the interests of others, on what principle is it possible consistently to exclude these cases? or who can blame people for desiring to suppress what they regard as a scandal in the sight of god and man? no stronger case can be shown for prohibiting anything which is regarded as a personal immorality, than is made out for suppressing these practices in the eyes of those who regard them as impieties; and unless we are willing to adopt the logic of persecutors, and to say that we may persecute others because we are right, and that they must not persecute us because they are wrong, we must beware of admitting a principle of which we should resent as a gross injustice the application to ourselves. the preceding instances may be objected to, although unreasonably, as drawn from contingencies impossible among us: opinion, in this country, not being likely to enforce abstinence from meats, or to interfere with people for worshipping, and for either marrying or not marrying, according to their creed or inclination. the next example, however, shall be taken from an interference with liberty which we have by no means passed all danger of. wherever the puritans have been sufficiently powerful, as in new england, and in great britain at the time of the commonwealth, they have endeavoured, with considerable success, to put down all public, and nearly all private, amusements: especially music, dancing, public games, or other assemblages for purposes of diversion, and the theatre. there are still in this country large bodies of persons by whose notions of morality and religion these recreations are condemned; and those persons belonging chiefly to the middle class, who are the ascendant power in the present social and political condition of the kingdom, it is by no means impossible that persons of these sentiments may at some time or other command a majority in parliament. how will the remaining portion of the community like to have the amusements that shall be permitted to them regulated by the religious and moral sentiments of the stricter calvinists and methodists? would they not, with considerable peremptoriness, desire these intrusively pious members of society to mind their own business? this is precisely what should be said to every government and every public, who have the pretension that no person shall enjoy any pleasure which they think wrong. but if the principle of the pretension be admitted, no one can reasonably object to its being acted on in the sense of the majority, or other preponderating power in the country; and all persons must be ready to conform to the idea of a christian commonwealth, as understood by the early settlers in new england, if a religious profession similar to theirs should ever succeed in regaining its lost ground, as religions supposed to be declining have so often been known to do. to imagine another contingency, perhaps more likely to be realised than the one last mentioned. there is confessedly a strong tendency in the modern world towards a democratic constitution of society, accompanied or not by popular political institutions. it is affirmed that in the country where this tendency is most completely realised--where both society and the government are most democratic--the united states--the feeling of the majority, to whom any appearance of a more showy or costly style of living than they can hope to rival is disagreeable, operates as a tolerably effectual sumptuary law, and that in many parts of the union it is really difficult for a person possessing a very large income, to find any mode of spending it, which will not incur popular disapprobation. though such statements as these are doubtless much exaggerated as a representation of existing facts, the state of things they describe is not only a conceivable and possible, but a probable result of democratic feeling, combined with the notion that the public has a right to a veto on the manner in which individuals shall spend their incomes. we have only further to suppose a considerable diffusion of socialist opinions, and it may become infamous in the eyes of the majority to possess more property than some very small amount, or any income not earned by manual labour. opinions similar in principle to these, already prevail widely among the artisan class, and weigh oppressively on those who are amenable to the opinion chiefly of that class, namely, its own members. it is known that the bad workmen who form the majority of the operatives in many branches of industry, are decidedly of opinion that bad workmen ought to receive the same wages as good, and that no one ought to be allowed, through piecework or otherwise, to earn by superior skill or industry more than others can without it. and they employ a moral police, which occasionally becomes a physical one, to deter skilful workmen from receiving, and employers from giving, a larger remuneration for a more useful service. if the public have any jurisdiction over private concerns, i cannot see that these people are in fault, or that any individual's particular public can be blamed for asserting the same authority over his individual conduct, which the general public asserts over people in general. but, without dwelling upon supposititious cases, there are, in our own day, gross usurpations upon the liberty of private life actually practised, and still greater ones threatened with some expectation of success, and opinions proposed which assert an unlimited right in the public not only to prohibit by law everything which it thinks wrong, but in order to get at what it thinks wrong, to prohibit any number of things which it admits to be innocent. under the name of preventing intemperance, the people of one english colony, and of nearly half the united states, have been interdicted by law from making any use whatever of fermented drinks, except for medical purposes: for prohibition of their sale is in fact, as it is intended to be, prohibition of their use. and though the impracticability of executing the law has caused its repeal in several of the states which had adopted it, including the one from which it derives its name, an attempt has notwithstanding been commenced, and is prosecuted with considerable zeal by many of the professed philanthropists, to agitate for a similar law in this country. the association, or "alliance" as it terms itself, which has been formed for this purpose, has acquired some notoriety through the publicity given to a correspondence between its secretary and one of the very few english public men who hold that a politician's opinions ought to be founded on principles. lord stanley's share in this correspondence is calculated to strengthen the hopes already built on him, by those who know how rare such qualities as are manifested in some of his public appearances, unhappily are among those who figure in political life. the organ of the alliance, who would "deeply deplore the recognition of any principle which could be wrested to justify bigotry and persecution," undertakes to point out the "broad and impassable barrier" which divides such principles from those of the association. "all matters relating to thought, opinion, conscience, appear to me," he says, "to be without the sphere of legislation; all pertaining to social act, habit, relation, subject only to a discretionary power vested in the state itself, and not in the individual, to be within it." no mention is made of a third class, different from either of these, viz. acts and habits which are not social, but individual; although it is to this class, surely, that the act of drinking fermented liquors belongs. selling fermented liquors, however, is trading, and trading is a social act. but the infringement complained of is not on the liberty of the seller, but on that of the buyer and consumer; since the state might just as well forbid him to drink wine, as purposely make it impossible for him to obtain it. the secretary, however, says, "i claim, as a citizen, a right to legislate whenever my social rights are invaded by the social act of another." and now for the definition of these "social rights." "if anything invades my social rights, certainly the traffic in strong drink does. it destroys my primary right of security, by constantly creating and stimulating social disorder. it invades my right of equality, by deriving a profit from the creation of a misery, i am taxed to support. it impedes my right to free moral and intellectual development, by surrounding my path with dangers, and by weakening and demoralising society, from which i have a right to claim mutual aid and intercourse." a theory of "social rights," the like of which probably never before found its way into distinct language--being nothing short of this--that it is the absolute social right of every individual, that every other individual shall act in every respect exactly as he ought; that whosoever fails thereof in the smallest particular, violates my social right, and entitles me to demand from the legislature the removal of the grievance. so monstrous a principle is far more dangerous than any single interference with liberty; there is no violation of liberty which it would not justify; it acknowledges no right to any freedom whatever, except perhaps to that of holding opinions in secret, without ever disclosing them: for the moment an opinion which i consider noxious, passes any one's lips, it invades all the "social rights" attributed to me by the alliance. the doctrine ascribes to all mankind a vested interest in each other's moral, intellectual, and even physical perfection, to be defined by each claimant according to his own standard. another important example of illegitimate interference with the rightful liberty of the individual, not simply threatened, but long since carried into triumphant effect, is sabbatarian legislation. without doubt, abstinence on one day in the week, so far as the exigencies of life permit, from the usual daily occupation, though in no respect religiously binding on any except jews, is a highly beneficial custom. and inasmuch as this custom cannot be observed without a general consent to that effect among the industrious classes, therefore, in so far as some persons by working may impose the same necessity on others, it may be allowable and right that the law should guarantee to each, the observance by others of the custom, by suspending the greater operations of industry on a particular day. but this justification, grounded on the direct interest which others have in each individual's observance of the practice, does not apply to the self-chosen occupations in which a person may think fit to employ his leisure; nor does it hold good, in the smallest degree, for legal restrictions on amusements. it is true that the amusement of some is the day's work of others; but the pleasure, not to say the useful recreation, of many, is worth the labour of a few, provided the occupation is freely chosen, and can be freely resigned. the operatives are perfectly right in thinking that if all worked on sunday, seven days' work would have to be given for six days' wages: but so long as the great mass of employments are suspended, the small number who for the enjoyment of others must still work, obtain a proportional increase of earnings; and they are not obliged to follow those occupations, if they prefer leisure to emolument. if a further remedy is sought, it might be found in the establishment by custom of a holiday on some other day of the week for those particular classes of persons. the only ground, therefore, on which restrictions on sunday amusements can be defended, must be that they are religiously wrong; a motive of legislation which never can be too earnestly protested against. "deorum injuriæ diis curæ." it remains to be proved that society or any of its officers holds a commission from on high to avenge any supposed offence to omnipotence, which is not also a wrong to our fellow-creatures. the notion that it is one man's duty that another should be religious, was the foundation of all the religious persecutions ever perpetrated, and if admitted, would fully justify them. though the feeling which breaks out in the repeated attempts to stop railway travelling on sunday, in the resistance to the opening of museums, and the like, has not the cruelty of the old persecutors, the state of mind indicated by it is fundamentally the same. it is a determination not to tolerate others in doing what is permitted by their religion, because it is not permitted by the persecutor's religion. it is a belief that god not only abominates the act of the misbeliever, but will not hold us guiltless if we leave him unmolested. i cannot refrain from adding to these examples of the little account commonly made of human liberty, the language of downright persecution which breaks out from the press of this country, whenever it feels called on to notice the remarkable phenomenon of mormonism. much might be said on the unexpected and instructive fact, that an alleged new revelation, and a religion founded on it, the product of palpable imposture, not even supported by the _prestige_ of extraordinary qualities in its founder, is believed by hundreds of thousands, and has been made the foundation of a society, in the age of newspapers, railways, and the electric telegraph. what here concerns us is, that this religion, like other and better religions, has its martyrs; that its prophet and founder was, for his teaching, put to death by a mob; that others of its adherents lost their lives by the same lawless violence; that they were forcibly expelled, in a body, from the country in which they first grew up; while, now that they have been chased into a solitary recess in the midst of a desert, many in this country openly declare that it would be right (only that it is not convenient) to send an expedition against them, and compel them by force to conform to the opinions of other people. the article of the mormonite doctrine which is the chief provocative to the antipathy which thus breaks through the ordinary restraints of religious tolerance, is its sanction of polygamy; which, though permitted to mahomedans, and hindoos, and chinese, seems to excite unquenchable animosity when practised by persons who speak english, and profess to be a kind of christians. no one has a deeper disapprobation than i have of this mormon institution; both for other reasons, and because, far from being in any way countenanced by the principle of liberty, it is a direct infraction of that principle, being a mere riveting of the chains of one half of the community, and an emancipation of the other from reciprocity of obligation towards them. still, it must be remembered that this relation is as much voluntary on the part of the women concerned in it, and who may be deemed the sufferers by it, as is the case with any other form of the marriage institution; and however surprising this fact may appear, it has its explanation in the common ideas and customs of the world, which teaching women to think marriage the one thing needful, make it intelligible that many a woman should prefer being one of several wives, to not being a wife at all. other countries are not asked to recognise such unions, or release any portion of their inhabitants from their own laws on the score of mormonite opinions. but when the dissentients have conceded to the hostile sentiments of others, far more than could justly be demanded; when they have left the countries to which their doctrines were unacceptable, and established themselves in a remote corner of the earth, which they have been the first to render habitable to human beings; it is difficult to see on what principles but those of tyranny they can be prevented from living there under what laws they please, provided they commit no aggression on other nations, and allow perfect freedom of departure to those who are dissatisfied with their ways. a recent writer, in some respects of considerable merit, proposes (to use his own words), not a crusade, but a _civilizade_, against this polygamous community, to put an end to what seems to him a retrograde step in civilisation. it also appears so to me, but i am not aware that any community has a right to force another to be civilised. so long as the sufferers by the bad law do not invoke assistance from other communities, i cannot admit that persons entirely unconnected with them ought to step in and require that a condition of things with which all who are directly interested appear to be satisfied, should be put an end to because it is a scandal to persons some thousands of miles distant, who have no part or concern in it. let them send missionaries, if they please, to preach against it; and let them, by any fair means (of which silencing the teachers is not one), oppose the progress of similar doctrines among their own people. if civilisation has got the better of barbarism when barbarism had the world to itself, it is too much to profess to be afraid lest barbarism, after having been fairly got under, should revive and conquer civilisation. a civilisation that can thus succumb to its vanquished enemy, must first have become so degenerate, that neither its appointed priests and teachers, nor anybody else, has the capacity, or will take the trouble, to stand up for it. if this be so, the sooner such a civilisation receives notice to quit, the better. it can only go on from bad to worse, until destroyed and regenerated (like the western empire) by energetic barbarians. footnote: [ ] the case of the bombay parsees is a curious instance in point. when this industrious and enterprising tribe, the descendants of the persian fire-worshippers, flying from their native country before the caliphs, arrived in western india, they were admitted to toleration by the hindoo sovereigns, on condition of not eating beef. when those regions afterwards fell under the dominion of mahomedan conquerors, the parsees obtained from them a continuance of indulgence, on condition of refraining from pork. what was at first obedience to authority became a second nature, and the parsees to this day abstain both from beef and pork. though not required by their religion, the double abstinence has had time to grow into a custom of their tribe; and custom, in the east, is a religion. chapter v. applications. the principles asserted in these pages must be more generally admitted as the basis for discussion of details, before a consistent application of them to all the various departments of government and morals can be attempted with any prospect of advantage. the few observations i propose to make on questions of detail, are designed to illustrate the principles, rather than to follow them out to their consequences. i offer, not so much applications, as specimens of application; which may serve to bring into greater clearness the meaning and limits of the two maxims which together form the entire doctrine of this essay, and to assist the judgment in holding the balance between them, in the cases where it appears doubtful which of them is applicable to the case. the maxims are, first, that the individual is not accountable to society for his actions, in so far as these concern the interests of no person but himself. advice, instruction, persuasion, and avoidance by other people if thought necessary by them for their own good, are the only measures by which society can justifiably express its dislike or disapprobation of his conduct. secondly, that for such actions as are prejudicial to the interests of others, the individual is accountable and may be subjected either to social or to legal punishments, if society is of opinion that the one or the other is requisite for its protection. in the first place, it must by no means be supposed, because damage, or probability of damage, to the interests of others, can alone justify the interference of society, that therefore it always does justify such interference. in many cases, an individual, in pursuing a legitimate object, necessarily and therefore legitimately causes pain or loss to others, or intercepts a good which they had a reasonable hope of obtaining. such oppositions of interest between individuals often arise from bad social institutions, but are unavoidable while those institutions last; and some would be unavoidable under any institutions. whoever succeeds in an overcrowded profession, or in a competitive examination; whoever is preferred to another in any contest for an object which both desire, reaps benefit from the loss of others, from their wasted exertion and their disappointment. but it is, by common admission, better for the general interest of mankind, that persons should pursue their objects undeterred by this sort of consequences. in other words, society admits no rights, either legal or moral, in the disappointed competitors, to immunity from this kind of suffering; and feels called on to interfere, only when means of success have been employed which it is contrary to the general interest to permit--namely, fraud or treachery, and force. again, trade is a social act. whoever undertakes to sell any description of goods to the public, does what affects the interest of other persons, and of society in general; and thus his conduct, in principle, comes within the jurisdiction of society: accordingly, it was once held to be the duty of governments, in all cases which were considered of importance, to fix prices, and regulate the processes of manufacture. but it is now recognised, though not till after a long struggle, that both the cheapness and the good quality of commodities are most effectually provided for by leaving the producers and sellers perfectly free, under the sole check of equal freedom to the buyers for supplying themselves elsewhere. this is the so-called doctrine of free trade, which rests on grounds different from, though equally solid with, the principle of individual liberty asserted in this essay. restrictions on trade, or on production for purposes of trade, are indeed restraints; and all restraint, _quâ_ restraint, is an evil: but the restraints in question affect only that part of conduct which society is competent to restrain, and are wrong solely because they do not really produce the results which it is desired to produce by them. as the principle of individual liberty is not involved in the doctrine of free trade, so neither is it in most of the questions which arise respecting the limits of that doctrine: as for example, what amount of public control is admissible for the prevention of fraud by adulteration; how far sanitary precautions, or arrangements to protect work-people employed in dangerous occupations, should be enforced on employers. such questions involve considerations of liberty, only in so far as leaving people to themselves is always better, _cæteris paribus_, than controlling them: but that they may be legitimately controlled for these ends, is in principle undeniable. on the other hand, there are questions relating to interference with trade, which are essentially questions of liberty; such as the maine law, already touched upon; the prohibition of the importation of opium into china; the restriction of the sale of poisons; all cases, in short, where the object of the interference is to make it impossible or difficult to obtain a particular commodity. these interferences are objectionable, not as infringements on the liberty of the producer or seller, but on that of the buyer. one of these examples, that of the sale of poisons, opens a new question; the proper limits of what may be called the functions of police; how far liberty may legitimately be invaded for the prevention of crime, or of accident. it is one of the undisputed functions of government to take precautions against crime before it has been committed, as well as to detect and punish it afterwards. the preventive function of government, however, is far more liable to be abused, to the prejudice of liberty, than the punitory function; for there is hardly any part of the legitimate freedom of action of a human being which would not admit of being represented, and fairly too, as increasing the facilities for some form or other of delinquency. nevertheless, if a public authority, or even a private person, sees any one evidently preparing to commit a crime, they are not bound to look on inactive until the crime is committed, but may interfere to prevent it. if poisons were never bought or used for any purpose except the commission of murder, it would be right to prohibit their manufacture and sale. they may, however, be wanted not only for innocent but for useful purposes, and restrictions cannot be imposed in the one case without operating in the other. again, it is a proper office of public authority to guard against accidents. if either a public officer or any one else saw a person attempting to cross a bridge which had been ascertained to be unsafe, and there were no time to warn him of his danger, they might seize him and turn him back, without any real infringement of his liberty; for liberty consists in doing what one desires, and he does not desire to fall into the river. nevertheless, when there is not a certainty, but only a danger of mischief, no one but the person himself can judge of the sufficiency of the motive which may prompt him to incur the risk: in this case, therefore (unless he is a child, or delirious, or in some state of excitement or absorption incompatible with the full use of the reflecting faculty), he ought, i conceive, to be only warned of the danger; not forcibly prevented from exposing himself to it. similar considerations, applied to such a question as the sale of poisons, may enable us to decide which among the possible modes of regulation are or are not contrary to principle. such a precaution, for example, as that of labelling the drug with some word expressive of its dangerous character, may be enforced without violation of liberty: the buyer cannot wish not to know that the thing he possesses has poisonous qualities. but to require in all cases the certificate of a medical practitioner, would make it sometimes impossible, always expensive, to obtain the article for legitimate uses. the only mode apparent to me, in which difficulties may be thrown in the way of crime committed through this means, without any infringement, worth taking into account, upon the liberty of those who desire the poisonous substance for other purposes, consists in providing what, in the apt language of bentham, is called "preappointed evidence." this provision is familiar to every one in the case of contracts. it is usual and right that the law, when a contract is entered into, should require as the condition of its enforcing performance, that certain formalities should be observed, such as signatures, attestation of witnesses, and the like, in order that in case of subsequent dispute, there may be evidence to prove that the contract was really entered into, and that there was nothing in the circumstances to render it legally invalid: the effect being, to throw great obstacles in the way of fictitious contracts, or contracts made in circumstances which, if known, would destroy their validity. precautions of a similar nature might be enforced in the sale of articles adapted to be instruments of crime. the seller, for example, might be required to enter into a register the exact time of the transaction, the name and address of the buyer, the precise quality and quantity sold; to ask the purpose for which it was wanted, and record the answer he received. when there was no medical prescription, the presence of some third person might be required, to bring home the fact to the purchaser, in case there should afterwards be reason to believe that the article had been applied to criminal purposes. such regulations would in general be no material impediment to obtaining the article, but a very considerable one to making an improper use of it without detection. the right inherent in society, to ward off crimes against itself by antecedent precautions, suggests the obvious limitations to the maxim, that purely self-regarding misconduct cannot properly be meddled with in the way of prevention or punishment. drunkenness, for example, in ordinary cases, is not a fit subject for legislative interference; but i should deem it perfectly legitimate that a person, who had once been convicted of any act of violence to others under the influence of drink, should be placed under a special legal restriction, personal to himself; that if he were afterwards found drunk, he should be liable to a penalty, and that if when in that state he committed another offence, the punishment to which he would be liable for that other offence should be increased in severity. the making himself drunk, in a person whom drunkenness excites to do harm to others, is a crime against others. so, again, idleness, except in a person receiving support from the public, or except when it constitutes a breach of contract, cannot without tyranny be made a subject of legal punishment; but if either from idleness or from any other avoidable cause, a man fails to perform his legal duties to others, as for instance to support his children, it is no tyranny to force him to fulfil that obligation, by compulsory labour, if no other means are available. again, there are many acts which, being directly injurious only to the agents themselves, ought not to be legally interdicted, but which, if done publicly, are a violation of good manners and coming thus within the category of offences against others may rightfully be prohibited. of this kind are offences against decency; on which it is unnecessary to dwell, the rather as they are only connected indirectly with our subject, the objection to publicity being equally strong in the case of many actions not in themselves condemnable, nor supposed to be so. there is another question to which an answer must be found, consistent with the principles which have been laid down. in cases of personal conduct supposed to be blamable, but which respect for liberty precludes society from preventing or punishing, because the evil directly resulting falls wholly on the agent; what the agent is free to do, ought other persons to be equally free to counsel or instigate? this question is not free from difficulty. the case of a person who solicits another to do an act, is not strictly a case of self-regarding conduct. to give advice or offer inducements to any one, is a social act, and may therefore, like actions in general which affect others, be supposed amenable to social control. but a little reflection corrects the first impression, by showing that if the case is not strictly within the definition of individual liberty, yet the reasons on which the principle of individual liberty is grounded, are applicable to it. if people must be allowed, in whatever concerns only themselves, to act as seems best to themselves at their own peril, they must equally be free to consult with one another about what is fit to be so done; to exchange opinions, and give and receive suggestions. whatever it is permitted to do, it must be permitted to advise to do. the question is doubtful, only when the instigator derives a personal benefit from his advice; when he makes it his occupation, for subsistence or pecuniary gain, to promote what society and the state consider to be an evil. then, indeed, a new element of complication is introduced; namely, the existence of classes of persons with an interest opposed to what is considered as the public weal, and whose mode of living is grounded on the counteraction of it. ought this to be interfered with, or not? fornication, for example, must be tolerated, and so must gambling; but should a person be free to be a pimp, or to keep a gambling-house? the case is one of those which lie on the exact boundary line between two principles, and it is not at once apparent to which of the two it properly belongs. there are arguments on both sides. on the side of toleration it may be said, that the fact of following anything as an occupation, and living or profiting by the practice of it, cannot make that criminal which would otherwise be admissible; that the act should either be consistently permitted or consistently prohibited; that if the principles which we have hitherto defended are true, society has no business, _as_ society, to decide anything to be wrong which concerns only the individual; that it cannot go beyond dissuasion, and that one person should be as free to persuade, as another to dissuade. in opposition to this it may be contended, that although the public, or the state, are not warranted in authoritatively deciding, for purposes of repression or punishment, that such or such conduct affecting only the interests of the individual is good or bad, they are fully justified in assuming, if they regard it as bad, that its being so or not is at least a disputable question: that, this being supposed, they cannot be acting wrongly in endeavouring to exclude the influence of solicitations which are not disinterested, of instigators who cannot possibly be impartial--who have a direct personal interest on one side, and that side the one which the state believes to be wrong, and who confessedly promote it for personal objects only. there can surely, it may be urged, be nothing lost, no sacrifice of good, by so ordering matters that persons shall make their election, either wisely or foolishly, on their own prompting, as free as possible from the arts of persons who stimulate their inclinations for interested purposes of their own. thus (it may be said) though the statutes respecting unlawful games are utterly indefensible--though all persons should be free to gamble in their own or each other's houses, or in any place of meeting established by their own subscriptions, and open only to the members and their visitors--yet public gambling-houses should not be permitted. it is true that the prohibition is never effectual, and that whatever amount of tyrannical power is given to the police, gambling-houses can always be maintained under other pretences; but they may be compelled to conduct their operations with a certain degree of secrecy and mystery, so that nobody knows anything about them but those who seek them; and more than this, society ought not to aim at. there is considerable force in these arguments; i will not venture to decide whether they are sufficient to justify the moral anomaly of punishing the accessary, when the principal is (and must be) allowed to go free; or fining or imprisoning the procurer, but not the fornicator, the gambling-house keeper, but not the gambler. still less ought the common operations of buying and selling to be interfered with on analogous grounds. almost every article which is bought and sold may be used in excess, and the sellers have a pecuniary interest in encouraging that excess; but no argument can be founded on this, in favour, for instance, of the maine law; because the class of dealers in strong drinks, though interested in their abuse, are indispensably required for the sake of their legitimate use. the interest, however, of these dealers in promoting intemperance is a real evil, and justifies the state in imposing restrictions and requiring guarantees, which but for that justification would be infringements of legitimate liberty. a further question is, whether the state, while it permits, should nevertheless indirectly discourage conduct which it deems contrary to the best interests of the agent; whether, for example, it should take measures to render the means of drunkenness more costly, or add to the difficulty of procuring them, by limiting the number of the places of sale. on this as on most other practical questions, many distinctions require to be made. to tax stimulants for the sole purpose of making them more difficult to be obtained, is a measure differing only in degree from their entire prohibition; and would be justifiable only if that were justifiable. every increase of cost is a prohibition, to those whose means do not come up to the augmented price; and to those who do, it is a penalty laid on them for gratifying a particular taste. their choice of pleasures, and their mode of expending their income, after satisfying their legal and moral obligations to the state and to individuals, are their own concern, and must rest with their own judgment. these considerations may seem at first sight to condemn the selection of stimulants as special subjects of taxation for purposes of revenue. but it must be remembered that taxation for fiscal purposes is absolutely inevitable; that in most countries it is necessary that a considerable part of that taxation should be indirect; that the state, therefore, cannot help imposing penalties, which to some persons may be prohibitory, on the use of some articles of consumption. it is hence the duty of the state to consider, in the imposition of taxes, what commodities the consumers can best spare; and _à fortiori_, to select in preference those of which it deems the use, beyond a very moderate quantity, to be positively injurious. taxation, therefore, of stimulants, up to the point which produces the largest amount of revenue (supposing that the state needs all the revenue which it yields) is not only admissible, but to be approved of. the question of making the sale of these commodities a more or less exclusive privilege, must be answered differently, according to the purposes to which the restriction is intended to be subservient. all places of public resort require the restraint of a police, and places of this kind peculiarly, because offences against society are especially apt to originate there. it is, therefore, fit to confine the power of selling these commodities (at least for consumption on the spot) to persons of known or vouched-for respectability of conduct; to make such regulations respecting hours of opening and closing as may be requisite for public surveillance, and to withdraw the licence if breaches of the peace repeatedly take place through the connivance or incapacity of the keeper of the house, or if it becomes a rendezvous for concocting and preparing offences against the law. any further restriction i do not conceive to be, in principle, justifiable. the limitation in number, for instance, of beer and spirit-houses, for the express purpose of rendering them more difficult of access, and diminishing the occasions of temptation, not only exposes all to an inconvenience because there are some by whom the facility would be abused, but is suited only to a state of society in which the labouring classes are avowedly treated as children or savages, and placed under an education of restraint, to fit them for future admission to the privileges of freedom. this is not the principle on which the labouring classes are professedly governed in any free country; and no person who sets due value on freedom will give his adhesion to their being so governed, unless after all efforts have been exhausted to educate them for freedom and govern them as freemen, and it has been definitively proved that they can only be governed as children. the bare statement of the alternative shows the absurdity of supposing that such efforts have been made in any case which needs be considered here. it is only because the institutions of this country are a mass of inconsistencies, that things find admittance into our practice which belong to the system of despotic, or what is called paternal, government, while the general freedom of our institutions precludes the exercise of the amount of control necessary to render the restraint of any real efficacy as a moral education. it was pointed out in an early part of this essay, that the liberty of the individual, in things wherein the individual is alone concerned, implies a corresponding liberty in any number of individuals to regulate by mutual agreement such things as regard them jointly, and regard no persons but themselves. this question presents no difficulty, so long as the will of all the persons implicated remains unaltered; but since that will may change, it is often necessary, even in things in which they alone are concerned, that they should enter into engagements with one another; and when they do, it is fit, as a general rule, that those engagements should be kept. yet in the laws, probably, of every country, this general rule has some exceptions. not only persons are not held to engagements which violate the rights of third parties, but it is sometimes considered a sufficient reason for releasing them from an engagement, that it is injurious to themselves. in this and most other civilised countries, for example, an engagement by which a person should sell himself, or allow himself to be sold, as a slave, would be null and void; neither enforced by law nor by opinion. the ground for thus limiting his power of voluntarily disposing of his own lot in life, is apparent, and is very clearly seen in this extreme case. the reason for not interfering, unless for the sake of others, with a person's voluntary acts, is consideration for his liberty. his voluntary choice is evidence that what he so chooses is desirable, or at the least endurable, to him, and his good is on the whole best provided for by allowing him to take his own means of pursuing it. but by selling himself for a slave, he abdicates his liberty; he foregoes any future use of it, beyond that single act. he therefore defeats, in his own case, the very purpose which is the justification of allowing him to dispose of himself. he is no longer free; but is thenceforth in a position which has no longer the presumption in its favour, that would be afforded by his voluntarily remaining in it. the principle of freedom cannot require that he should be free not to be free. it is not freedom, to be allowed to alienate his freedom. these reasons, the force of which is so conspicuous in this peculiar case, are evidently of far wider application; yet a limit is everywhere set to them by the necessities of life, which continually require, not indeed that we should resign our freedom, but that we should consent to this and the other limitation of it. the principle, however, which demands uncontrolled freedom of action in all that concerns only the agents themselves, requires that those who have become bound to one another, in things which concern no third party, should be able to release one another from the engagement: and even without such voluntary release, there are perhaps no contracts or engagements, except those that relate to money or money's worth, of which one can venture to say that there ought to be no liberty whatever of retractation. baron wilhelm von humboldt, in the excellent essay from which i have already quoted, states it as his conviction, that engagements which involve personal relations or services, should never be legally binding beyond a limited duration of time; and that the most important of these engagements, marriage, having the peculiarity that its objects are frustrated unless the feelings of both the parties are in harmony with it, should require nothing more than the declared will of either party to dissolve it. this subject is too important, and too complicated, to be discussed in a parenthesis, and i touch on it only so far as is necessary for purposes of illustration. if the conciseness and generality of baron humboldt's dissertation had not obliged him in this instance to content himself with enunciating his conclusion without discussing the premises, he would doubtless have recognised that the question cannot be decided on grounds so simple as those to which he confines himself. when a person, either by express promise or by conduct, has encouraged another to rely upon his continuing to act in a certain way--to build expectations and calculations, and stake any part of his plan of life upon that supposition, a new series of moral obligations arises on his part towards that person, which may possibly be overruled, but cannot be ignored. and again, if the relation between two contracting parties has been followed by consequences to others; if it has placed third parties in any peculiar position, or, as in the case of marriage, has even called third parties into existence, obligations arise on the part of both the contracting parties towards those third persons, the fulfilment of which, or at all events the mode of fulfilment, must be greatly affected by the continuance or disruption of the relation between the original parties to the contract. it does not follow, nor can i admit, that these obligations extend to requiring the fulfilment of the contract at all costs to the happiness of the reluctant party; but they are a necessary element in the question; and even if, as von humboldt maintains, they ought to make no difference in the _legal_ freedom of the parties to release themselves from the engagement (and i also hold that they ought not to make _much_ difference), they necessarily make a great difference in the _moral_ freedom. a person is bound to take all these circumstances into account, before resolving on a step which may affect such important interests of others; and if he does not allow proper weight to those interests, he is morally responsible for the wrong. i have made these obvious remarks for the better illustration of the general principle of liberty, and not because they are at all needed on the particular question, which, on the contrary, is usually discussed as if the interest of children was everything, and that of grown persons nothing. i have already observed that, owing to the absence of any recognised general principles, liberty is often granted where it should be withheld, as well as withheld where it should be granted; and one of the cases in which, in the modern european world, the sentiment of liberty is the strongest, is a case where, in my view, it is altogether misplaced. a person should be free to do as he likes in his own concerns; but he ought not to be free to do as he likes in acting for another, under the pretext that the affairs of another are his own affairs. the state, while it respects the liberty of each in what specially regards himself, is bound to maintain a vigilant control over his exercise of any power which it allows him to possess over others. this obligation is almost entirely disregarded in the case of the family relations, a case, in its direct influence on human happiness, more important than all others taken together. the almost despotic power of husbands over wives need not be enlarged upon here because nothing more is needed for the complete removal of the evil, than that wives should have the same rights, and should receive the protection of law in the same manner, as all other persons; and because, on this subject, the defenders of established injustice do not avail themselves of the plea of liberty, but stand forth openly as the champions of power. it is in the case of children, that misapplied notions of liberty are a real obstacle to the fulfilment by the state of its duties. one would almost think that a man's children were supposed to be literally, and not metaphorically, a part of himself, so jealous is opinion of the smallest interference of law with his absolute and exclusive control over them; more jealous than of almost any interference with his own freedom of action: so much less do the generality of mankind value liberty than power. consider, for example, the case of education. is it not almost a self-evident axiom, that the state should require and compel the education, up to a certain standard, of every human being who is born its citizen? yet who is there that is not afraid to recognise and assert this truth? hardly any one indeed will deny that it is one of the most sacred duties of the parents (or, as law and usage now stand, the father), after summoning a human being into the world, to give to that being an education fitting him to perform his part well in life towards others and towards himself. but while this is unanimously declared to be the father's duty, scarcely anybody, in this country, will bear to hear of obliging him to perform it. instead of his being required to make any exertion or sacrifice for securing education to the child, it is left to his choice to accept it or not when it is provided gratis! it still remains unrecognised, that to bring a child into existence without a fair prospect of being able, not only to provide food for its body, but instruction and training for its mind, is a moral crime, both against the unfortunate offspring and against society; and that if the parent does not fulfil this obligation, the state ought to see it fulfilled, at the charge, as far as possible, of the parent. were the duty of enforcing universal education once admitted, there would be an end to the difficulties about what the state should teach, and how it should teach, which now convert the subject into a mere battle-field for sects and parties, causing the time and labour which should have been spent in educating, to be wasted in quarrelling about education. if the government would make up its mind to _require_ for every child a good education, it might save itself the trouble of _providing_ one. it might leave to parents to obtain the education where and how they pleased, and content itself with helping to pay the school fees of the poorer class of children, and defraying the entire school expenses of those who have no one else to pay for them. the objections which are urged with reason against state education, do not apply to the enforcement of education by the state, but to the state's taking upon itself to direct that education; which is a totally different thing. that the whole or any large part of the education of the people should be in state hands, i go as far as any one in deprecating. all that has been said of the importance of individuality of character, and diversity in opinions and modes of conduct, involves, as of the same unspeakable importance, diversity of education. a general state education is a mere contrivance for moulding people to be exactly like one another; and as the mould in which it casts them is that which pleases the predominant power in the government, whether this be a monarch, a priesthood, an aristocracy, or the majority of the existing generation, in proportion as it is efficient and successful, it establishes a despotism over the mind, leading by natural tendency to one over the body. an education established and controlled by the state, should only exist, if it exist at all, as one among many competing experiments, carried on for the purpose of example and stimulus, to keep the others up to a certain standard of excellence. unless, indeed, when society in general is in so backward a state that it could not or would not provide for itself any proper institutions of education, unless the government undertook the task; then, indeed, the government may, as the less of two great evils, take upon itself the business of schools and universities, as it may that of joint stock companies, when private enterprise, in a shape fitted for undertaking great works of industry, does not exist in the country. but in general, if the country contains a sufficient number of persons qualified to provide education under government auspices, the same persons would be able and willing to give an equally good education on the voluntary principle, under the assurance of remuneration afforded by a law rendering education compulsory, combined with state aid to those unable to defray the expense. the instrument for enforcing the law could be no other than public examinations, extending to all children, and beginning at an early age. an age might be fixed at which every child must be examined, to ascertain if he (or she) is able to read. if a child proves unable, the father, unless he has some sufficient ground of excuse, might be subjected to a moderate fine, to be worked out, if necessary, by his labour, and the child might be put to school at his expense. once in every year the examination should be renewed, with a gradually extending range of subjects, so as to make the universal acquisition, and what is more, retention, of a certain minimum of general knowledge, virtually compulsory. beyond that minimum, there should be voluntary examinations on all subjects, at which all who come up to a certain standard of proficiency might claim a certificate. to prevent the state from exercising, through these arrangements, an improper influence over opinion, the knowledge required for passing an examination (beyond the merely instrumental parts of knowledge, such as languages and their use) should, even in the higher class of examinations, be confined to facts and positive science exclusively. the examinations on religion, politics, or other disputed topics, should not turn on the truth or falsehood of opinions, but on the matter of fact that such and such an opinion is held, on such grounds, by such authors, or schools, or churches. under this system, the rising generation would be no worse off in regard to all disputed truths, than they are at present; they would be brought up either churchmen or dissenters as they now are, the state merely taking care that they should be instructed churchmen, or instructed dissenters. there would be nothing to hinder them from being taught religion, if their parents chose, at the same schools where they were taught other things. all attempts by the state to bias the conclusions of its citizens on disputed subjects, are evil; but it may very properly offer to ascertain and certify that a person possesses the knowledge, requisite to make his conclusions, on any given subject, worth attending to. a student of philosophy would be the better for being able to stand an examination both in locke and in kant, whichever of the two he takes up with, or even if with neither: and there is no reasonable objection to examining an atheist in the evidences of christianity, provided he is not required to profess a belief in them. the examinations, however, in the higher branches of knowledge should, i conceive, be entirely voluntary. it would be giving too dangerous a power to governments, were they allowed to exclude any one from professions, even from the profession of teacher, for alleged deficiency of qualifications: and i think, with wilhelm von humboldt, that degrees, or other public certificates of scientific or professional acquirements, should be given to all who present themselves for examination, and stand the test; but that such certificates should confer no advantage over competitors, other than the weight which may be attached to their testimony by public opinion. it is not in the matter of education only, that misplaced notions of liberty prevent moral obligations on the part of parents from being recognised, and legal obligations from being imposed, where there are the strongest grounds for the former always, and in many cases for the latter also. the fact itself, of causing the existence of a human being, is one of the most responsible actions in the range of human life. to undertake this responsibility--to bestow a life which may be either a curse or a blessing--unless the being on whom it is to be bestowed will have at least the ordinary chances of a desirable existence, is a crime against that being. and in a country either over-peopled, or threatened with being so, to produce children, beyond a very small number, with the effect of reducing the reward of labour by their competition, is a serious offence against all who live by the remuneration of their labour. the laws which, in many countries on the continent, forbid marriage unless the parties can show that they have the means of supporting a family, do not exceed the legitimate powers of the state: and whether such laws be expedient or not (a question mainly dependent on local circumstances and feelings), they are not objectionable as violations of liberty. such laws are interferences of the state to prohibit a mischievous act--an act injurious to others, which ought to be a subject of reprobation, and social stigma, even when it is not deemed expedient to superadd legal punishment. yet the current ideas of liberty, which bend so easily to real infringements of the freedom of the individual, in things which concern only himself, would repel the attempt to put any restraint upon his inclinations when the consequence of their indulgence is a life, or lives, of wretchedness and depravity to the offspring, with manifold evils to those sufficiently within reach to be in any way affected by their actions. when we compare the strange respect of mankind for liberty, with their strange want of respect for it, we might imagine that a man had an indispensable right to do harm to others, and no right at all to please himself without giving pain to any one. i have reserved for the last place a large class of questions respecting the limits of government interference, which, though closely connected with the subject of this essay, do not, in strictness, belong to it. these are cases in which the reasons against interference do not turn upon the principle of liberty: the question is not about restraining the actions of individuals, but about helping them: it is asked whether the government should do, or cause to be done, something for their benefit, instead of leaving it to be done by themselves, individually, or in voluntary combination. the objections to government interference, when it is not such as to involve infringement of liberty, may be of three kinds. the first is, when the thing to be done is likely to be better done by individuals than by the government. speaking generally, there is no one so fit to conduct any business, or to determine how or by whom it shall be conducted, as those who are personally interested in it. this principle condemns the interferences, once so common, of the legislature, or the officers of government, with the ordinary processes of industry. but this part of the subject has been sufficiently enlarged upon by political economists, and is not particularly related to the principles of this essay. the second objection is more nearly allied to our subject. in many cases, though individuals may not do the particular thing so well, on the average, as the officers of government, it is nevertheless desirable that it should be done by them, rather than by the government, as a means to their own mental education--a mode of strengthening their active faculties, exercising their judgment, and giving them a familiar knowledge of the subjects with which they are thus left to deal. this is a principal, though not the sole, recommendation of jury trial (in cases not political); of free and popular local and municipal institutions; of the conduct of industrial and philanthropic enterprises by voluntary associations. these are not questions of liberty, and are connected with that subject only by remote tendencies; but they are questions of development. it belongs to a different occasion from the present to dwell on these things as parts of national education; as being, in truth, the peculiar training of a citizen, the practical part of the political education of a free people, taking them out of the narrow circle of personal and family selfishness, and accustoming them to the comprehension of joint interests, the management of joint concerns--habituating them to act from public or semi-public motives, and guide their conduct by aims which unite instead of isolating them from one another. without these habits and powers, a free constitution can neither be worked nor preserved, as is exemplified by the too-often transitory nature of political freedom in countries where it does not rest upon a sufficient basis of local liberties. the management of purely local business by the localities, and of the great enterprises of industry by the union of those who voluntarily supply the pecuniary means, is further recommended by all the advantages which have been set forth in this essay as belonging to individuality of development, and diversity of modes of action. government operations tend to be everywhere alike. with individuals and voluntary associations, on the contrary, there are varied experiments, and endless diversity of experience. what the state can usefully do, is to make itself a central depository, and active circulator and diffuser, of the experience resulting from many trials. its business is to enable each experimentalist to benefit by the experiments of others, instead of tolerating no experiments but its own. the third, and most cogent reason for restricting the interference of government, is the great evil of adding unnecessarily to its power. every function superadded to those already exercised by the government, causes its influence over hopes and fears to be more widely diffused, and converts, more and more, the active and ambitious part of the public into hangers-on of the government, or of some party which aims at becoming the government. if the roads, the railways, the banks, the insurance offices, the great joint-stock companies, the universities, and the public charities, were all of them branches of the government; if, in addition, the municipal corporations and local boards, with all that now devolves on them, became departments of the central administration; if the employés of all these different enterprises were appointed and paid by the government, and looked to the government for every rise in life; not all the freedom of the press and popular constitution of the legislature would make this or any other country free otherwise than in name. and the evil would be greater, the more efficiently and scientifically the administrative machinery was constructed--the more skilful the arrangements for obtaining the best qualified hands and heads with which to work it. in england it has of late been proposed that all the members of the civil service of government should be selected by competitive examination, to obtain for those employments the most intelligent and instructed persons procurable; and much has been said and written for and against this proposal. one of the arguments most insisted on by its opponents, is that the occupation of a permanent official servant of the state does not hold out sufficient prospects of emolument and importance to attract the highest talents, which will always be able to find a more inviting career in the professions, or in the service of companies and other public bodies. one would not have been surprised if this argument had been used by the friends of the proposition, as an answer to its principal difficulty. coming from the opponents it is strange enough. what is urged as an objection is the safety-valve of the proposed system. if indeed all the high talent of the country _could_ be drawn into the service of the government, a proposal tending to bring about that result might well inspire uneasiness. if every part of the business of society which required organised concert, or large and comprehensive views, were in the hands of the government, and if government offices were universally filled by the ablest men, all the enlarged culture and practised intelligence in the country, except the purely speculative, would be concentrated in a numerous bureaucracy, to whom alone the rest of the community would look for all things: the multitude for direction and dictation in all they had to do; the able and aspiring for personal advancement. to be admitted into the ranks of this bureaucracy, and when admitted, to rise therein, would be the sole objects of ambition. under this régime, not only is the outside public ill-qualified, for want of practical experience, to criticise or check the mode of operation of the bureaucracy, but even if the accidents of despotic or the natural working of popular institutions occasionally raise to the summit a ruler or rulers of reforming inclinations, no reform can be effected which is contrary to the interest of the bureaucracy. such is the melancholy condition of the russian empire, as is shown in the accounts of those who have had sufficient opportunity of observation. the czar himself is powerless against the bureaucratic body; he can send any one of them to siberia, but he cannot govern without them, or against their will. on every decree of his they have a tacit veto, by merely refraining from carrying it into effect. in countries of more advanced civilisation and of a more insurrectionary spirit, the public, accustomed to expect everything to be done for them by the state, or at least to do nothing for themselves without asking from the state not only leave to do it, but even how it is to be done, naturally hold the state responsible for all evil which befalls them, and when the evil exceeds their amount of patience, they rise against the government and make what is called a revolution; whereupon somebody else, with or without legitimate authority from the nation, vaults into the seat, issues his orders to the bureaucracy, and everything goes on much as it did before; the bureaucracy being unchanged, and nobody else being capable of taking their place. a very different spectacle is exhibited among a people accustomed to transact their own business. in france, a large part of the people having been engaged in military service, many of whom have held at least the rank of non-commissioned officers, there are in every popular insurrection several persons competent to take the lead, and improvise some tolerable plan of action. what the french are in military affairs, the americans are in every kind of civil business; let them be left without a government, every body of americans is able to improvise one, and to carry on that or any other public business with a sufficient amount of intelligence, order, and decision. this is what every free people ought to be: and a people capable of this is certain to be free; it will never let itself be enslaved by any man or body of men because these are able to seize and pull the reins of the central administration. no bureaucracy can hope to make such a people as this do or undergo anything that they do not like. but where everything is done through the bureaucracy, nothing to which the bureaucracy is really adverse can be done at all. the constitution of such countries is an organisation of the experience and practical ability of the nation, into a disciplined body for the purpose of governing the rest; and the more perfect that organisation is in itself, the more successful in drawing to itself and educating for itself the persons of greatest capacity from all ranks of the community, the more complete is the bondage of all, the members of the bureaucracy included. for the governors are as much the slaves of their organisation and discipline, as the governed are of the governors. a chinese mandarin is as much the tool and creature of a despotism as the humblest cultivator. an individual jesuit is to the utmost degree of abasement the slave of his order, though the order itself exists for the collective power and importance of its members. it is not, also, to be forgotten, that the absorption of all the principal ability of the country into the governing body is fatal, sooner or later, to the mental activity and progressiveness of the body itself. banded together as they are--working a system which, like all systems, necessarily proceeds in a great measure by fixed rules--the official body are under the constant temptation of sinking into indolent routine, or, if they now and then desert that mill-horse round, of rushing into some half-examined crudity which has struck the fancy of some leading member of the corps: and the sole check to these closely allied, though seemingly opposite, tendencies, the only stimulus which can keep the ability of the body itself up to a high standard, is liability to the watchful criticism of equal ability outside the body. it is indispensable, therefore, that the means should exist, independently of the government, of forming such ability, and furnishing it with the opportunities and experience necessary for a correct judgment of great practical affairs. if we would possess permanently a skilful and efficient body of functionaries--above all, a body able to originate and willing to adopt improvements; if we would not have our bureaucracy degenerate into a pedantocracy, this body must not engross all the occupations which form and cultivate the faculties required for the government of mankind. to determine the point at which evils, so formidable to human freedom and advancement, begin, or rather at which they begin to predominate over the benefits attending the collective application of the force of society, under its recognised chiefs, for the removal of the obstacles which stand in the way of its well-being; to secure as much of the advantages of centralised power and intelligence, as can be had without turning into governmental channels too great a proportion of the general activity, is one of the most difficult and complicated questions in the art of government. it is, in a great measure, a question of detail, in which many and various considerations must be kept in view, and no absolute rule can be laid down. but i believe that the practical principle in which safety resides, the ideal to be kept in view, the standard by which to test all arrangements intended for overcoming the difficulty, may be conveyed in these words: the greatest dissemination of power consistent with efficiency; but the greatest possible centralisation of information, and diffusion of it from the centre. thus, in municipal administration, there would be, as in the new england states, a very minute division among separate officers, chosen by the localities, of all business which is not better left to the persons directly interested; but besides this, there would be, in each department of local affairs, a central superintendence, forming a branch of the general government. the organ of this superintendence would concentrate, as in a focus, the variety of information and experience derived from the conduct of that branch of public business in all the localities, from everything analogous which is done in foreign countries, and from the general principles of political science. this central organ should have a right to know all that is done, and its special duty should be that of making the knowledge acquired in one place available for others. emancipated from the petty prejudices and narrow views of a locality by its elevated position and comprehensive sphere of observation, its advice would naturally carry much authority; but its actual power, as a permanent institution, should, i conceive, be limited to compelling the local officers to obey the laws laid down for their guidance. in all things not provided for by general rules, those officers should be left to their own judgment, under responsibility to their constituents. for the violation of rules, they should be responsible to law, and the rules themselves should be laid down by the legislature; the central administrative authority only watching over their execution, and if they were not properly carried into effect, appealing, according to the nature of the case, to the tribunal to enforce the law, or to the constituencies to dismiss the functionaries who had not executed it according to its spirit. such, in its general conception, is the central superintendence which the poor law board is intended to exercise over the administrators of the poor rate throughout the country. whatever powers the board exercises beyond this limit, were right and necessary in that peculiar case, for the cure of rooted habits of maladministration in matters deeply affecting not the localities merely, but the whole community; since no locality has a moral right to make itself by mismanagement a nest of pauperism, necessarily overflowing into other localities, and impairing the moral and physical condition of the whole labouring community. the powers of administrative coercion and subordinate legislation possessed by the poor law board (but which, owing to the state of opinion on the subject, are very scantily exercised by them), though perfectly justifiable in a case of first-rate national interest, would be wholly out of place in the superintendence of interests purely local. but a central organ of information and instruction for all the localities, would be equally valuable in all departments of administration. a government cannot have too much of the kind of activity which does not impede, but aids and stimulates, individual exertion and development. the mischief begins when, instead of calling forth the activity and powers of individuals and bodies, it substitutes its own activity for theirs; when, instead of informing, advising, and, upon occasion, denouncing, it makes them work in fetters, or bids them stand aside and does their work instead of them. the worth of a state, in the long run, is the worth of the individuals composing it; and a state which postpones the interests of _their_ mental expansion and elevation, to a little more of administrative skill, or of that semblance of it which practice gives, in the details of business; a state which dwarfs its men, in order that they may be more docile instruments in its hands even for beneficial purposes, will find that with small men no great thing can really be accomplished; and that the perfection of machinery to which it has sacrificed everything, will in the end avail it nothing, for want of the vital power which, in order that the machine might work more smoothly, it has preferred to banish. the writings of thomas paine, volume i. by thomas paine collected and edited by moncure daniel conway transcriber's note:this file posted, on the us president's day holiday, in memory of thomas paine, one of our most influential and most unappreciated patriots. the american crisis table of contents editor's preface the crisis no. i the crisis no. ii - to lord howe the crisis no. iii the crisis no. iv the crisis no. v - to general sir william howe - to the inhabitants of america the crisis no. vi - to the earl of carlisle, general clinton, and william eden, esq., british commissioners at new york the crisis no. vii - to the people of england the crisis no. viii - addressed to the people of england the crisis no. ix - the crisis extraordinary - on the subject of taxation the crisis no. x - on the king of england's speech - to the people of america the crisis no. xi - on the present state of news - a supernumerary crisis (to sir guy carleton.) the crisis no. xii - to the earl of shelburne the crisis no. xiii - on the peace, and the probable advantages thereof a supernumerary crisis - (to the people of america) the american crisis. editor's preface. thomas paine, in his will, speaks of this work as the american crisis, remembering perhaps that a number of political pamphlets had appeared in london, - , under general title of "the crisis." by the blunder of an early english publisher of paine's writings, one essay in the london "crisis" was attributed to paine, and the error has continued to cause confusion. this publisher was d. i. eaton, who printed as the first number of paine's "crisis" an essay taken from the london publication. but his prefatory note says: "since the printing of this book, the publisher is informed that no. , or first crisis in this publication, is not one of the thirteen which paine wrote, but a letter previous to them." unfortunately this correction is sufficiently equivocal to leave on some minds the notion that paine did write the letter in question, albeit not as a number of his "crisis "; especially as eaton's editor unwarrantably appended the signature "c. s.," suggesting "common sense." there are, however, no such letters in the london essay, which is signed "casca." it was published august, , in the form of a letter to general gage, in answer to his proclamation concerning the affair at lexington. it was certainly not written by paine. it apologizes for the americans for having, on april , at lexington, made "an attack upon the king's troops from behind walls and lurking holes." the writer asks: "have not the americans been driven to this frenzy? is it not common for an enemy to take every advantage?" paine, who was in america when the affair occurred at lexington, would have promptly denounced gage's story as a falsehood, but the facts known to every one in america were as yet not before the london writer. the english "crisis" bears evidence throughout of having been written in london. it derived nothing from paine, and he derived nothing from it, unless its title, and this is too obvious for its origin to require discussion. i have no doubt, however, that the title was suggested by the english publication, because paine has followed its scheme in introducing a "crisis extraordinary." his work consists of thirteen numbers, and, in addition to these, a "crisis extraordinary" and a "supernumerary crisis." in some modern collections all of these have been serially numbered, and a brief newspaper article added, making sixteen numbers. but paine, in his will, speaks of the number as thirteen, wishing perhaps, in his characteristic way, to adhere to the number of the american colonies, as he did in the thirteen ribs of his iron bridge. his enumeration is therefore followed in the present volume, and the numbers printed successively, although other writings intervened. the first "crisis" was printed in the pennsylvania journal, december , , and opens with the famous sentence, "these are the times that try men's souls"; the last "crisis" appeared april , , (eighth anniversary of the first gun of the war, at lexington,) and opens with the words, "the times that tried men's souls are over." the great effect produced by paine's successive publications has been attested by washington and franklin, by every leader of the american revolution, by resolutions of congress, and by every contemporary historian of the events amid which they were written. the first "crisis" is of especial historical interest. it was written during the retreat of washington across the delaware, and by order of the commander was read to groups of his dispirited and suffering soldiers. its opening sentence was adopted as the watchword of the movement on trenton, a few days after its publication, and is believed to have inspired much of the courage which won that victory, which, though not imposing in extent, was of great moral effect on washington's little army. the crisis the crisis i. (these are the times that try men's souls) these are the times that try men's souls. the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. what we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated. britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right (not only to tax) but "to bind us in all cases whatsoever," and if being bound in that manner, is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. even the expression is impious; for so unlimited a power can belong only to god. whether the independence of the continent was declared too soon, or delayed too long, i will not now enter into as an argument; my own simple opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it would have been much better. we did not make a proper use of last winter, neither could we, while we were in a dependent state. however, the fault, if it were one, was all our own*; we have none to blame but ourselves. but no great deal is lost yet. all that howe has been doing for this month past, is rather a ravage than a conquest, which the spirit of the jerseys, a year ago, would have quickly repulsed, and which time and a little resolution will soon recover. * the present winter is worth an age, if rightly employed; but, if lost or neglected, the whole continent will partake of the evil; and there is no punishment that man does not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he will, that may be the means of sacrificing a season so precious and useful. i have as little superstition in me as any man living, but my secret opinion has ever been, and still is, that god almighty will not give up a people to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly to perish, who have so earnestly and so repeatedly sought to avoid the calamities of war, by every decent method which wisdom could invent. neither have i so much of the infidel in me, as to suppose that he has relinquished the government of the world, and given us up to the care of devils; and as i do not, i cannot see on what grounds the king of britain can look up to heaven for help against us: a common murderer, a highwayman, or a house-breaker, has as good a pretence as he. 'tis surprising to see how rapidly a panic will sometimes run through a country. all nations and ages have been subject to them. britain has trembled like an ague at the report of a french fleet of flat-bottomed boats; and in the fourteenth [fifteenth] century the whole english army, after ravaging the kingdom of france, was driven back like men petrified with fear; and this brave exploit was performed by a few broken forces collected and headed by a woman, joan of arc. would that heaven might inspire some jersey maid to spirit up her countrymen, and save her fair fellow sufferers from ravage and ravishment! yet panics, in some cases, have their uses; they produce as much good as hurt. their duration is always short; the mind soon grows through them, and acquires a firmer habit than before. but their peculiar advantage is, that they are the touchstones of sincerity and hypocrisy, and bring things and men to light, which might otherwise have lain forever undiscovered. in fact, they have the same effect on secret traitors, which an imaginary apparition would have upon a private murderer. they sift out the hidden thoughts of man, and hold them up in public to the world. many a disguised tory has lately shown his head, that shall penitentially solemnize with curses the day on which howe arrived upon the delaware. as i was with the troops at fort lee, and marched with them to the edge of pennsylvania, i am well acquainted with many circumstances, which those who live at a distance know but little or nothing of. our situation there was exceedingly cramped, the place being a narrow neck of land between the north river and the hackensack. our force was inconsiderable, being not one-fourth so great as howe could bring against us. we had no army at hand to have relieved the garrison, had we shut ourselves up and stood on our defence. our ammunition, light artillery, and the best part of our stores, had been removed, on the apprehension that howe would endeavor to penetrate the jerseys, in which case fort lee could be of no use to us; for it must occur to every thinking man, whether in the army or not, that these kind of field forts are only for temporary purposes, and last in use no longer than the enemy directs his force against the particular object which such forts are raised to defend. such was our situation and condition at fort lee on the morning of the th of november, when an officer arrived with information that the enemy with boats had landed about seven miles above; major general [nathaniel] green, who commanded the garrison, immediately ordered them under arms, and sent express to general washington at the town of hackensack, distant by the way of the ferry = six miles. our first object was to secure the bridge over the hackensack, which laid up the river between the enemy and us, about six miles from us, and three from them. general washington arrived in about three-quarters of an hour, and marched at the head of the troops towards the bridge, which place i expected we should have a brush for; however, they did not choose to dispute it with us, and the greatest part of our troops went over the bridge, the rest over the ferry, except some which passed at a mill on a small creek, between the bridge and the ferry, and made their way through some marshy grounds up to the town of hackensack, and there passed the river. we brought off as much baggage as the wagons could contain, the rest was lost. the simple object was to bring off the garrison, and march them on till they could be strengthened by the jersey or pennsylvania militia, so as to be enabled to make a stand. we staid four days at newark, collected our out-posts with some of the jersey militia, and marched out twice to meet the enemy, on being informed that they were advancing, though our numbers were greatly inferior to theirs. howe, in my little opinion, committed a great error in generalship in not throwing a body of forces off from staten island through amboy, by which means he might have seized all our stores at brunswick, and intercepted our march into pennsylvania; but if we believe the power of hell to be limited, we must likewise believe that their agents are under some providential control. i shall not now attempt to give all the particulars of our retreat to the delaware; suffice it for the present to say, that both officers and men, though greatly harassed and fatigued, frequently without rest, covering, or provision, the inevitable consequences of a long retreat, bore it with a manly and martial spirit. all their wishes centred in one, which was, that the country would turn out and help them to drive the enemy back. voltaire has remarked that king william never appeared to full advantage but in difficulties and in action; the same remark may be made on general washington, for the character fits him. there is a natural firmness in some minds which cannot be unlocked by trifles, but which, when unlocked, discovers a cabinet of fortitude; and i reckon it among those kind of public blessings, which we do not immediately see, that god hath blessed him with uninterrupted health, and given him a mind that can even flourish upon care. i shall conclude this paper with some miscellaneous remarks on the state of our affairs; and shall begin with asking the following question, why is it that the enemy have left the new england provinces, and made these middle ones the seat of war? the answer is easy: new england is not infested with tories, and we are. i have been tender in raising the cry against these men, and used numberless arguments to show them their danger, but it will not do to sacrifice a world either to their folly or their baseness. the period is now arrived, in which either they or we must change our sentiments, or one or both must fall. and what is a tory? good god! what is he? i should not be afraid to go with a hundred whigs against a thousand tories, were they to attempt to get into arms. every tory is a coward; for servile, slavish, self-interested fear is the foundation of toryism; and a man under such influence, though he may be cruel, never can be brave. but, before the line of irrecoverable separation be drawn between us, let us reason the matter together: your conduct is an invitation to the enemy, yet not one in a thousand of you has heart enough to join him. howe is as much deceived by you as the american cause is injured by you. he expects you will all take up arms, and flock to his standard, with muskets on your shoulders. your opinions are of no use to him, unless you support him personally, for 'tis soldiers, and not tories, that he wants. i once felt all that kind of anger, which a man ought to feel, against the mean principles that are held by the tories: a noted one, who kept a tavern at amboy, was standing at his door, with as pretty a child in his hand, about eight or nine years old, as i ever saw, and after speaking his mind as freely as he thought was prudent, finished with this unfatherly expression, "well! give me peace in my day." not a man lives on the continent but fully believes that a separation must some time or other finally take place, and a generous parent should have said, "if there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace;" and this single reflection, well applied, is sufficient to awaken every man to duty. not a place upon earth might be so happy as america. her situation is remote from all the wrangling world, and she has nothing to do but to trade with them. a man can distinguish himself between temper and principle, and i am as confident, as i am that god governs the world, that america will never be happy till she gets clear of foreign dominion. wars, without ceasing, will break out till that period arrives, and the continent must in the end be conqueror; for though the flame of liberty may sometimes cease to shine, the coal can never expire. america did not, nor does not want force; but she wanted a proper application of that force. wisdom is not the purchase of a day, and it is no wonder that we should err at the first setting off. from an excess of tenderness, we were unwilling to raise an army, and trusted our cause to the temporary defence of a well-meaning militia. a summer's experience has now taught us better; yet with those troops, while they were collected, we were able to set bounds to the progress of the enemy, and, thank god! they are again assembling. i always considered militia as the best troops in the world for a sudden exertion, but they will not do for a long campaign. howe, it is probable, will make an attempt on this city [philadelphia]; should he fail on this side the delaware, he is ruined. if he succeeds, our cause is not ruined. he stakes all on his side against a part on ours; admitting he succeeds, the consequence will be, that armies from both ends of the continent will march to assist their suffering friends in the middle states; for he cannot go everywhere, it is impossible. i consider howe as the greatest enemy the tories have; he is bringing a war into their country, which, had it not been for him and partly for themselves, they had been clear of. should he now be expelled, i wish with all the devotion of a christian, that the names of whig and tory may never more be mentioned; but should the tories give him encouragement to come, or assistance if he come, i as sincerely wish that our next year's arms may expel them from the continent, and the congress appropriate their possessions to the relief of those who have suffered in well-doing. a single successful battle next year will settle the whole. america could carry on a two years' war by the confiscation of the property of disaffected persons, and be made happy by their expulsion. say not that this is revenge, call it rather the soft resentment of a suffering people, who, having no object in view but the good of all, have staked their own all upon a seemingly doubtful event. yet it is folly to argue against determined hardness; eloquence may strike the ear, and the language of sorrow draw forth the tear of compassion, but nothing can reach the heart that is steeled with prejudice. quitting this class of men, i turn with the warm ardor of a friend to those who have nobly stood, and are yet determined to stand the matter out: i call not upon a few, but upon all: not on this state or that state, but on every state: up and help us; lay your shoulders to the wheel; better have too much force than too little, when so great an object is at stake. let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet and to repulse it. say not that thousands are gone, turn out your tens of thousands; throw not the burden of the day upon providence, but "show your faith by your works," that god may bless you. it matters not where you live, or what rank of life you hold, the evil or the blessing will reach you all. the far and the near, the home counties and the back, the rich and the poor, will suffer or rejoice alike. the heart that feels not now is dead; the blood of his children will curse his cowardice, who shrinks back at a time when a little might have saved the whole, and made them happy. i love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. 'tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death. my own line of reasoning is to myself as straight and clear as a ray of light. not all the treasures of the world, so far as i believe, could have induced me to support an offensive war, for i think it murder; but if a thief breaks into my house, burns and destroys my property, and kills or threatens to kill me, or those that are in it, and to "bind me in all cases whatsoever" to his absolute will, am i to suffer it? what signifies it to me, whether he who does it is a king or a common man; my countryman or not my countryman; whether it be done by an individual villain, or an army of them? if we reason to the root of things we shall find no difference; neither can any just cause be assigned why we should punish in the one case and pardon in the other. let them call me rebel and welcome, i feel no concern from it; but i should suffer the misery of devils, were i to make a whore of my soul by swearing allegiance to one whose character is that of a sottish, stupid, stubborn, worthless, brutish man. i conceive likewise a horrid idea in receiving mercy from a being, who at the last day shall be shrieking to the rocks and mountains to cover him, and fleeing with terror from the orphan, the widow, and the slain of america. there are cases which cannot be overdone by language, and this is one. there are persons, too, who see not the full extent of the evil which threatens them; they solace themselves with hopes that the enemy, if he succeed, will be merciful. it is the madness of folly, to expect mercy from those who have refused to do justice; and even mercy, where conquest is the object, is only a trick of war; the cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence of the wolf, and we ought to guard equally against both. howe's first object is, partly by threats and partly by promises, to terrify or seduce the people to deliver up their arms and receive mercy. the ministry recommended the same plan to gage, and this is what the tories call making their peace, "a peace which passeth all understanding" indeed! a peace which would be the immediate forerunner of a worse ruin than any we have yet thought of. ye men of pennsylvania, do reason upon these things! were the back counties to give up their arms, they would fall an easy prey to the indians, who are all armed: this perhaps is what some tories would not be sorry for. were the home counties to deliver up their arms, they would be exposed to the resentment of the back counties who would then have it in their power to chastise their defection at pleasure. and were any one state to give up its arms, that state must be garrisoned by all howe's army of britons and hessians to preserve it from the anger of the rest. mutual fear is the principal link in the chain of mutual love, and woe be to that state that breaks the compact. howe is mercifully inviting you to barbarous destruction, and men must be either rogues or fools that will not see it. i dwell not upon the vapors of imagination; i bring reason to your ears, and, in language as plain as a, b, c, hold up truth to your eyes. i thank god, that i fear not. i see no real cause for fear. i know our situation well, and can see the way out of it. while our army was collected, howe dared not risk a battle; and it is no credit to him that he decamped from the white plains, and waited a mean opportunity to ravage the defenceless jerseys; but it is great credit to us, that, with a handful of men, we sustained an orderly retreat for near an hundred miles, brought off our ammunition, all our field pieces, the greatest part of our stores, and had four rivers to pass. none can say that our retreat was precipitate, for we were near three weeks in performing it, that the country might have time to come in. twice we marched back to meet the enemy, and remained out till dark. the sign of fear was not seen in our camp, and had not some of the cowardly and disaffected inhabitants spread false alarms through the country, the jerseys had never been ravaged. once more we are again collected and collecting; our new army at both ends of the continent is recruiting fast, and we shall be able to open the next campaign with sixty thousand men, well armed and clothed. this is our situation, and who will may know it. by perseverance and fortitude we have the prospect of a glorious issue; by cowardice and submission, the sad choice of a variety of evils--a ravaged country--a depopulated city--habitations without safety, and slavery without hope--our homes turned into barracks and bawdy-houses for hessians, and a future race to provide for, whose fathers we shall doubt of. look on this picture and weep over it! and if there yet remains one thoughtless wretch who believes it not, let him suffer it unlamented. common sense. december , . the crisis ii. to lord howe. "what's in the name of lord, that i should fear to bring my grievance to the public ear?" churchill. universal empire is the prerogative of a writer. his concerns are with all mankind, and though he cannot command their obedience, he can assign them their duty. the republic of letters is more ancient than monarchy, and of far higher character in the world than the vassal court of britain; he that rebels against reason is a real rebel, but he that in defence of reason rebels against tyranny has a better title to "defender of the faith," than george the third. as a military man your lordship may hold out the sword of war, and call it the "ultima ratio regum": the last reason of kings; we in return can show you the sword of justice, and call it "the best scourge of tyrants." the first of these two may threaten, or even frighten for a while, and cast a sickly languor over an insulted people, but reason will soon recover the debauch, and restore them again to tranquil fortitude. your lordship, i find, has now commenced author, and published a proclamation; i have published a crisis. as they stand, they are the antipodes of each other; both cannot rise at once, and one of them must descend; and so quick is the revolution of things, that your lordship's performance, i see, has already fallen many degrees from its first place, and is now just visible on the edge of the political horizon. it is surprising to what a pitch of infatuation, blind folly and obstinacy will carry mankind, and your lordship's drowsy proclamation is a proof that it does not even quit them in their sleep. perhaps you thought america too was taking a nap, and therefore chose, like satan to eve, to whisper the delusion softly, lest you should awaken her. this continent, sir, is too extensive to sleep all at once, and too watchful, even in its slumbers, not to startle at the unhallowed foot of an invader. you may issue your proclamations, and welcome, for we have learned to "reverence ourselves," and scorn the insulting ruffian that employs you. america, for your deceased brother's sake, would gladly have shown you respect and it is a new aggravation to her feelings, that howe should be forgetful, and raise his sword against those, who at their own charge raised a monument to his brother. but your master has commanded, and you have not enough of nature left to refuse. surely there must be something strangely degenerating in the love of monarchy, that can so completely wear a man down to an ingrate, and make him proud to lick the dust that kings have trod upon. a few more years, should you survive them, will bestow on you the title of "an old man": and in some hour of future reflection you may probably find the fitness of wolsey's despairing penitence--"had i served my god as faithful as i have served my king, he would not thus have forsaken me in my old age." the character you appear to us in, is truly ridiculous. your friends, the tories, announced your coming, with high descriptions of your unlimited powers; but your proclamation has given them the lie, by showing you to be a commissioner without authority. had your powers been ever so great they were nothing to us, further than we pleased; because we had the same right which other nations had, to do what we thought was best. "the united states of america," will sound as pompously in the world or in history, as "the kingdom of great britain"; the character of general washington will fill a page with as much lustre as that of lord howe: and the congress have as much right to command the king and parliament in london to desist from legislation, as they or you have to command the congress. only suppose how laughable such an edict would appear from us, and then, in that merry mood, do but turn the tables upon yourself, and you will see how your proclamation is received here. having thus placed you in a proper position in which you may have a full view of your folly, and learn to despise it, i hold up to you, for that purpose, the following quotation from your own lunarian proclamation.--"and we (lord howe and general howe) do command (and in his majesty's name forsooth) all such persons as are assembled together, under the name of general or provincial congresses, committees, conventions or other associations, by whatever name or names known and distinguished, to desist and cease from all such treasonable actings and doings." you introduce your proclamation by referring to your declarations of the th of july and th of september. in the last of these you sunk yourself below the character of a private gentleman. that i may not seem to accuse you unjustly, i shall state the circumstance: by a verbal invitation of yours, communicated to congress by general sullivan, then a prisoner on his parole, you signified your desire of conferring with some members of that body as private gentlemen. it was beneath the dignity of the american congress to pay any regard to a message that at best was but a genteel affront, and had too much of the ministerial complexion of tampering with private persons; and which might probably have been the case, had the gentlemen who were deputed on the business possessed that kind of easy virtue which an english courtier is so truly distinguished by. your request, however, was complied with, for honest men are naturally more tender of their civil than their political fame. the interview ended as every sensible man thought it would; for your lordship knows, as well as the writer of the crisis, that it is impossible for the king of england to promise the repeal, or even the revisal of any acts of parliament; wherefore, on your part, you had nothing to say, more than to request, in the room of demanding, the entire surrender of the continent; and then, if that was complied with, to promise that the inhabitants should escape with their lives. this was the upshot of the conference. you informed the conferees that you were two months in soliciting these powers. we ask, what powers? for as commissioner you have none. if you mean the power of pardoning, it is an oblique proof that your master was determined to sacrifice all before him; and that you were two months in dissuading him from his purpose. another evidence of his savage obstinacy! from your own account of the matter we may justly draw these two conclusions: st, that you serve a monster; and d, that never was a messenger sent on a more foolish errand than yourself. this plain language may perhaps sound uncouthly to an ear vitiated by courtly refinements, but words were made for use, and the fault lies in deserving them, or the abuse in applying them unfairly. soon after your return to new york, you published a very illiberal and unmanly handbill against the congress; for it was certainly stepping out of the line of common civility, first to screen your national pride by soliciting an interview with them as private gentlemen, and in the conclusion to endeavor to deceive the multitude by making a handbill attack on the whole body of the congress; you got them together under one name, and abused them under another. but the king you serve, and the cause you support, afford you so few instances of acting the gentleman, that out of pity to your situation the congress pardoned the insult by taking no notice of it. you say in that handbill, "that they, the congress, disavowed every purpose for reconciliation not consonant with their extravagant and inadmissible claim of independence." why, god bless me! what have you to do with our independence? we ask no leave of yours to set it up; we ask no money of yours to support it; we can do better without your fleets and armies than with them; you may soon have enough to do to protect yourselves without being burdened with us. we are very willing to be at peace with you, to buy of you and sell to you, and, like young beginners in the world, to work for our living; therefore, why do you put yourselves out of cash, when we know you cannot spare it, and we do not desire you to run into debt? i am willing, sir, that you should see your folly in every point of view i can place it in, and for that reason descend sometimes to tell you in jest what i wish you to see in earnest. but to be more serious with you, why do you say, "their independence?" to set you right, sir, we tell you, that the independency is ours, not theirs. the congress were authorized by every state on the continent to publish it to all the world, and in so doing are not to be considered as the inventors, but only as the heralds that proclaimed it, or the office from which the sense of the people received a legal form; and it was as much as any or all their heads were worth, to have treated with you on the subject of submission under any name whatever. but we know the men in whom we have trusted; can england say the same of her parliament? i come now more particularly to your proclamation of the th of november last. had you gained an entire conquest over all the armies of america, and then put forth a proclamation, offering (what you call) mercy, your conduct would have had some specious show of humanity; but to creep by surprise into a province, and there endeavor to terrify and seduce the inhabitants from their just allegiance to the rest by promises, which you neither meant nor were able to fulfil, is both cruel and unmanly: cruel in its effects; because, unless you can keep all the ground you have marched over, how are you, in the words of your proclamation, to secure to your proselytes "the enjoyment of their property?" what is to become either of your new adopted subjects, or your old friends, the tories, in burlington, bordentown, trenton, mount holly, and many other places, where you proudly lorded it for a few days, and then fled with the precipitation of a pursued thief? what, i say, is to become of those wretches? what is to become of those who went over to you from this city and state? what more can you say to them than "shift for yourselves?" or what more can they hope for than to wander like vagabonds over the face of the earth? you may now tell them to take their leave of america, and all that once was theirs. recommend them, for consolation, to your master's court; there perhaps they may make a shift to live on the scraps of some dangling parasite, and choose companions among thousands like themselves. a traitor is the foulest fiend on earth. in a political sense we ought to thank you for thus bequeathing estates to the continent; we shall soon, at this rate, be able to carry on a war without expense, and grow rich by the ill policy of lord howe, and the generous defection of the tories. had you set your foot into this city, you would have bestowed estates upon us which we never thought of, by bringing forth traitors we were unwilling to suspect. but these men, you'll say, "are his majesty's most faithful subjects;" let that honor, then, be all their fortune, and let his majesty take them to himself. i am now thoroughly disgusted with them; they live in ungrateful ease, and bend their whole minds to mischief. it seems as if god had given them over to a spirit of infidelity, and that they are open to conviction in no other line but that of punishment. it is time to have done with tarring, feathering, carting, and taking securities for their future good behavior; every sensible man must feel a conscious shame at seeing a poor fellow hawked for a show about the streets, when it is known he is only the tool of some principal villain, biassed into his offence by the force of false reasoning, or bribed thereto, through sad necessity. we dishonor ourselves by attacking such trifling characters while greater ones are suffered to escape; 'tis our duty to find them out, and their proper punishment would be to exile them from the continent for ever. the circle of them is not so great as some imagine; the influence of a few have tainted many who are not naturally corrupt. a continual circulation of lies among those who are not much in the way of hearing them contradicted, will in time pass for truth; and the crime lies not in the believer but the inventor. i am not for declaring war with every man that appears not so warm as myself: difference of constitution, temper, habit of speaking, and many other things, will go a great way in fixing the outward character of a man, yet simple honesty may remain at bottom. some men have naturally a military turn, and can brave hardships and the risk of life with a cheerful face; others have not; no slavery appears to them so great as the fatigue of arms, and no terror so powerful as that of personal danger. what can we say? we cannot alter nature, neither ought we to punish the son because the father begot him in a cowardly mood. however, i believe most men have more courage than they know of, and that a little at first is enough to begin with. i knew the time when i thought that the whistling of a cannon ball would have frightened me almost to death; but i have since tried it, and find that i can stand it with as little discomposure, and, i believe, with a much easier conscience than your lordship. the same dread would return to me again were i in your situation, for my solemn belief of your cause is, that it is hellish and damnable, and, under that conviction, every thinking man's heart must fail him. from a concern that a good cause should be dishonored by the least disunion among us, i said in my former paper, no. i. "that should the enemy now be expelled, i wish, with all the sincerity of a christian, that the names of whig and tory might never more be mentioned;" but there is a knot of men among us of such a venomous cast, that they will not admit even one's good wishes to act in their favor. instead of rejoicing that heaven had, as it were, providentially preserved this city from plunder and destruction, by delivering so great a part of the enemy into our hands with so little effusion of blood, they stubbornly affected to disbelieve it till within an hour, nay, half an hour, of the prisoners arriving; and the quakers put forth a testimony, dated the th of december, signed "john pemberton," declaring their attachment to the british government.* these men are continually harping on the great sin of our bearing arms, but the king of britain may lay waste the world in blood and famine, and they, poor fallen souls, have nothing to say. * i have ever been careful of charging offences upon whole societies of men, but as the paper referred to is put forth by an unknown set of men, who claim to themselves the right of representing the whole: and while the whole society of quakers admit its validity by a silent acknowledgment, it is impossible that any distinction can be made by the public: and the more so, because the new york paper of the th of december, printed by permission of our enemies, says that "the quakers begin to speak openly of their attachment to the british constitution." we are certain that we have many friends among them, and wish to know them. in some future paper i intend to distinguish between the different kind of persons who have been denominated tories; for this i am clear in, that all are not so who have been called so, nor all men whigs who were once thought so; and as i mean not to conceal the name of any true friend when there shall be occasion to mention him, neither will i that of an enemy, who ought to be known, let his rank, station or religion be what it may. much pains have been taken by some to set your lordship's private character in an amiable light, but as it has chiefly been done by men who know nothing about you, and who are no ways remarkable for their attachment to us, we have no just authority for believing it. george the third has imposed upon us by the same arts, but time, at length, has done him justice, and the same fate may probably attend your lordship. you avowed purpose here is to kill, conquer, plunder, pardon, and enslave: and the ravages of your army through the jerseys have been marked with as much barbarism as if you had openly professed yourself the prince of ruffians; not even the appearance of humanity has been preserved either on the march or the retreat of your troops; no general order that i could ever learn, has ever been issued to prevent or even forbid your troops from robbery, wherever they came, and the only instance of justice, if it can be called such, which has distinguished you for impartiality, is, that you treated and plundered all alike; what could not be carried away has been destroyed, and mahogany furniture has been deliberately laid on fire for fuel, rather than the men should be fatigued with cutting wood.* there was a time when the whigs confided much in your supposed candor, and the tories rested themselves in your favor; the experiments have now been made, and failed; in every town, nay, every cottage, in the jerseys, where your arms have been, is a testimony against you. how you may rest under this sacrifice of character i know not; but this i know, that you sleep and rise with the daily curses of thousands upon you; perhaps the misery which the tories have suffered by your proffered mercy may give them some claim to their country's pity, and be in the end the best favor you could show them. * as some people may doubt the truth of such wanton destruction, i think it necessary to inform them that one of the people called quakers, who lives at trenton, gave me this information at the house of mr. michael hutchinson, (one of the same profession,) who lives near trenton ferry on the pennsylvania side, mr. hutchinson being present. in a folio general-order book belonging to col. rhal's battalion, taken at trenton, and now in the possession of the council of safety for this state, the following barbarous order is frequently repeated, "his excellency the commander-in-chief orders, that all inhabitants who shall be found with arms, not having an officer with them, shall be immediately taken and hung up." how many you may thus have privately sacrificed, we know not, and the account can only be settled in another world. your treatment of prisoners, in order to distress them to enlist in your infernal service, is not to be equalled by any instance in europe. yet this is the humane lord howe and his brother, whom the tories and their three-quarter kindred, the quakers, or some of them at least, have been holding up for patterns of justice and mercy! a bad cause will ever be supported by bad means and bad men; and whoever will be at the pains of examining strictly into things, will find that one and the same spirit of oppression and impiety, more or less, governs through your whole party in both countries: not many days ago, i accidentally fell in company with a person of this city noted for espousing your cause, and on my remarking to him, "that it appeared clear to me, by the late providential turn of affairs, that god almighty was visibly on our side," he replied, "we care nothing for that you may have him, and welcome; if we have but enough of the devil on our side, we shall do." however carelessly this might be spoken, matters not, 'tis still the insensible principle that directs all your conduct and will at last most assuredly deceive and ruin you. if ever a nation was made and foolish, blind to its own interest and bent on its own destruction, it is britain. there are such things as national sins, and though the punishment of individuals may be reserved to another world, national punishment can only be inflicted in this world. britain, as a nation, is, in my inmost belief, the greatest and most ungrateful offender against god on the face of the whole earth. blessed with all the commerce she could wish for, and furnished, by a vast extension of dominion, with the means of civilizing both the eastern and western world, she has made no other use of both than proudly to idolize her own "thunder," and rip up the bowels of whole countries for what she could get. like alexander, she has made war her sport, and inflicted misery for prodigality's sake. the blood of india is not yet repaid, nor the wretchedness of africa yet requited. of late she has enlarged her list of national cruelties by her butcherly destruction of the caribbs of st. vincent's, and returning an answer by the sword to the meek prayer for "peace, liberty and safety." these are serious things, and whatever a foolish tyrant, a debauched court, a trafficking legislature, or a blinded people may think, the national account with heaven must some day or other be settled: all countries have sooner or later been called to their reckoning; the proudest empires have sunk when the balance was struck; and britain, like an individual penitent, must undergo her day of sorrow, and the sooner it happens to her the better. as i wish it over, i wish it to come, but withal wish that it may be as light as possible. perhaps your lordship has no taste for serious things; by your connections in england i should suppose not; therefore i shall drop this part of the subject, and take it up in a line in which you will better understand me. by what means, may i ask, do you expect to conquer america? if you could not effect it in the summer, when our army was less than yours, nor in the winter, when we had none, how are you to do it? in point of generalship you have been outwitted, and in point of fortitude outdone; your advantages turn out to your loss, and show us that it is in our power to ruin you by gifts: like a game of drafts, we can move out of one square to let you come in, in order that we may afterwards take two or three for one; and as we can always keep a double corner for ourselves, we can always prevent a total defeat. you cannot be so insensible as not to see that we have two to one the advantage of you, because we conquer by a drawn game, and you lose by it. burgoyne might have taught your lordship this knowledge; he has been long a student in the doctrine of chances. i have no other idea of conquering countries than by subduing the armies which defend them: have you done this, or can you do it? if you have not, it would be civil in you to let your proclamations alone for the present; otherwise, you will ruin more tories by your grace and favor, than you will whigs by your arms. were you to obtain possession of this city, you would not know what to do with it more than to plunder it. to hold it in the manner you hold new york, would be an additional dead weight upon your hands; and if a general conquest is your object, you had better be without the city than with it. when you have defeated all our armies, the cities will fall into your hands of themselves; but to creep into them in the manner you got into princeton, trenton, &c. is like robbing an orchard in the night before the fruit be ripe, and running away in the morning. your experiment in the jerseys is sufficient to teach you that you have something more to do than barely to get into other people's houses; and your new converts, to whom you promised all manner of protection, and seduced into new guilt by pardoning them from their former virtues, must begin to have a very contemptible opinion both of your power and your policy. your authority in the jerseys is now reduced to the small circle which your army occupies, and your proclamation is no where else seen unless it be to be laughed at. the mighty subduers of the continent have retreated into a nutshell, and the proud forgivers of our sins are fled from those they came to pardon; and all this at a time when they were despatching vessel after vessel to england with the great news of every day. in short, you have managed your jersey expedition so very dexterously, that the dead only are conquerors, because none will dispute the ground with them. in all the wars which you have formerly been concerned in you had only armies to contend with; in this case you have both an army and a country to combat with. in former wars, the countries followed the fate of their capitals; canada fell with quebec, and minorca with port mahon or st. phillips; by subduing those, the conquerors opened a way into, and became masters of the country: here it is otherwise; if you get possession of a city here, you are obliged to shut yourselves up in it, and can make no other use of it, than to spend your country's money in. this is all the advantage you have drawn from new york; and you would draw less from philadelphia, because it requires more force to keep it, and is much further from the sea. a pretty figure you and the tories would cut in this city, with a river full of ice, and a town full of fire; for the immediate consequence of your getting here would be, that you would be cannonaded out again, and the tories be obliged to make good the damage; and this sooner or later will be the fate of new york. i wish to see the city saved, not so much from military as from natural motives. 'tis the hiding place of women and children, and lord howe's proper business is with our armies. when i put all the circumstances together which ought to be taken, i laugh at your notion of conquering america. because you lived in a little country, where an army might run over the whole in a few days, and where a single company of soldiers might put a multitude to the rout, you expected to find it the same here. it is plain that you brought over with you all the narrow notions you were bred up with, and imagined that a proclamation in the king's name was to do great things; but englishmen always travel for knowledge, and your lordship, i hope, will return, if you return at all, much wiser than you came. we may be surprised by events we did not expect, and in that interval of recollection you may gain some temporary advantage: such was the case a few weeks ago, but we soon ripen again into reason, collect our strength, and while you are preparing for a triumph, we come upon you with a defeat. such it has been, and such it would be were you to try it a hundred times over. were you to garrison the places you might march over, in order to secure their subjection, (for remember you can do it by no other means,) your army would be like a stream of water running to nothing. by the time you extended from new york to virginia, you would be reduced to a string of drops not capable of hanging together; while we, by retreating from state to state, like a river turning back upon itself, would acquire strength in the same proportion as you lost it, and in the end be capable of overwhelming you. the country, in the meantime, would suffer, but it is a day of suffering, and we ought to expect it. what we contend for is worthy the affliction we may go through. if we get but bread to eat, and any kind of raiment to put on, we ought not only to be contented, but thankful. more than that we ought not to look for, and less than that heaven has not yet suffered us to want. he that would sell his birthright for a little salt, is as worthless as he who sold it for pottage without salt; and he that would part with it for a gay coat, or a plain coat, ought for ever to be a slave in buff. what are salt, sugar and finery, to the inestimable blessings of "liberty and safety!" or what are the inconveniences of a few months to the tributary bondage of ages? the meanest peasant in america, blessed with these sentiments, is a happy man compared with a new york tory; he can eat his morsel without repining, and when he has done, can sweeten it with a repast of wholesome air; he can take his child by the hand and bless it, without feeling the conscious shame of neglecting a parent's duty. in publishing these remarks i have several objects in view. on your part they are to expose the folly of your pretended authority as a commissioner; the wickedness of your cause in general; and the impossibility of your conquering us at any rate. on the part of the public, my intention is, to show them their true and sold interest; to encourage them to their own good, to remove the fears and falsities which bad men have spread, and weak men have encouraged; and to excite in all men a love for union, and a cheerfulness for duty. i shall submit one more case to you respecting your conquest of this country, and then proceed to new observations. suppose our armies in every part of this continent were immediately to disperse, every man to his home, or where else he might be safe, and engage to reassemble again on a certain future day; it is clear that you would then have no army to contend with, yet you would be as much at a loss in that case as you are now; you would be afraid to send your troops in parties over to the continent, either to disarm or prevent us from assembling, lest they should not return; and while you kept them together, having no arms of ours to dispute with, you could not call it a conquest; you might furnish out a pompous page in the london gazette or a new york paper, but when we returned at the appointed time, you would have the same work to do that you had at first. it has been the folly of britain to suppose herself more powerful than she really is, and by that means has arrogated to herself a rank in the world she is not entitled to: for more than this century past she has not been able to carry on a war without foreign assistance. in marlborough's campaigns, and from that day to this, the number of german troops and officers assisting her have been about equal with her own; ten thousand hessians were sent to england last war to protect her from a french invasion; and she would have cut but a poor figure in her canadian and west indian expeditions, had not america been lavish both of her money and men to help her along. the only instance in which she was engaged singly, that i can recollect, was against the rebellion in scotland, in the years and , and in that, out of three battles, she was twice beaten, till by thus reducing their numbers, (as we shall yours) and taking a supply ship that was coming to scotland with clothes, arms and money, (as we have often done,) she was at last enabled to defeat them. england was never famous by land; her officers have generally been suspected of cowardice, have more of the air of a dancing-master than a soldier, and by the samples which we have taken prisoners, we give the preference to ourselves. her strength, of late, has lain in her extravagance; but as her finances and credit are now low, her sinews in that line begin to fail fast. as a nation she is the poorest in europe; for were the whole kingdom, and all that is in it, to be put up for sale like the estate of a bankrupt, it would not fetch as much as she owes; yet this thoughtless wretch must go to war, and with the avowed design, too, of making us beasts of burden, to support her in riot and debauchery, and to assist her afterwards in distressing those nations who are now our best friends. this ingratitude may suit a tory, or the unchristian peevishness of a fallen quaker, but none else. 'tis the unhappy temper of the english to be pleased with any war, right or wrong, be it but successful; but they soon grow discontented with ill fortune, and it is an even chance that they are as clamorous for peace next summer, as the king and his ministers were for war last winter. in this natural view of things, your lordship stands in a very critical situation: your whole character is now staked upon your laurels; if they wither, you wither with them; if they flourish, you cannot live long to look at them; and at any rate, the black account hereafter is not far off. what lately appeared to us misfortunes, were only blessings in disguise; and the seeming advantages on your side have turned out to our profit. even our loss of this city, as far as we can see, might be a principal gain to us: the more surface you spread over, the thinner you will be, and the easier wiped away; and our consolation under that apparent disaster would be, that the estates of the tories would become securities for the repairs. in short, there is no old ground we can fail upon, but some new foundation rises again to support us. "we have put, sir, our hands to the plough, and cursed be he that looketh back." your king, in his speech to parliament last spring, declared, "that he had no doubt but the great force they had enabled him to send to america, would effectually reduce the rebellious colonies." it has not, neither can it; but it has done just enough to lay the foundation of its own next year's ruin. you are sensible that you left england in a divided, distracted state of politics, and, by the command you had here, you became a principal prop in the court party; their fortunes rest on yours; by a single express you can fix their value with the public, and the degree to which their spirits shall rise or fall; they are in your hands as stock, and you have the secret of the alley with you. thus situated and connected, you become the unintentional mechanical instrument of your own and their overthrow. the king and his ministers put conquest out of doubt, and the credit of both depended on the proof. to support them in the interim, it was necessary that you should make the most of every thing, and we can tell by hugh gaine's new york paper what the complexion of the london gazette is. with such a list of victories the nation cannot expect you will ask new supplies; and to confess your want of them would give the lie to your triumphs, and impeach the king and his ministers of treasonable deception. if you make the necessary demand at home, your party sinks; if you make it not, you sink yourself; to ask it now is too late, and to ask it before was too soon, and unless it arrive quickly will be of no use. in short, the part you have to act, cannot be acted; and i am fully persuaded that all you have to trust to is, to do the best you can with what force you have got, or little more. though we have greatly exceeded you in point of generalship and bravery of men, yet, as a people, we have not entered into the full soul of enterprise; for i, who know england and the disposition of the people well, am confident, that it is easier for us to effect a revolution there, than you a conquest here; a few thousand men landed in england with the declared design of deposing the present king, bringing his ministers to trial, and setting up the duke of gloucester in his stead, would assuredly carry their point, while you are grovelling here, ignorant of the matter. as i send all my papers to england, this, like common sense, will find its way there; and though it may put one party on their guard, it will inform the other, and the nation in general, of our design to help them. thus far, sir, i have endeavored to give you a picture of present affairs: you may draw from it what conclusions you please. i wish as well to the true prosperity of england as you can, but i consider independence as america's natural right and interest, and never could see any real disservice it would be to britain. if an english merchant receives an order, and is paid for it, it signifies nothing to him who governs the country. this is my creed of politics. if i have any where expressed myself over-warmly, 'tis from a fixed, immovable hatred i have, and ever had, to cruel men and cruel measures. i have likewise an aversion to monarchy, as being too debasing to the dignity of man; but i never troubled others with my notions till very lately, nor ever published a syllable in england in my life. what i write is pure nature, and my pen and my soul have ever gone together. my writings i have always given away, reserving only the expense of printing and paper, and sometimes not even that. i never courted either fame or interest, and my manner of life, to those who know it, will justify what i say. my study is to be useful, and if your lordship loves mankind as well as i do, you would, seeing you cannot conquer us, cast about and lend your hand towards accomplishing a peace. our independence with god's blessing we will maintain against all the world; but as we wish to avoid evil ourselves, we wish not to inflict it on others. i am never over-inquisitive into the secrets of the cabinet, but i have some notion that, if you neglect the present opportunity, it will not be in our power to make a separate peace with you afterwards; for whatever treaties or alliances we form, we shall most faithfully abide by; wherefore you may be deceived if you think you can make it with us at any time. a lasting independent peace is my wish, end and aim; and to accomplish that, i pray god the americans may never be defeated, and i trust while they have good officers, and are well commanded, and willing to be commanded, that they never will be. common sense. philadelphia, jan. , . the crisis iii. (in the progress of politics) in the progress of politics, as in the common occurrences of life, we are not only apt to forget the ground we have travelled over, but frequently neglect to gather up experience as we go. we expend, if i may so say, the knowledge of every day on the circumstances that produce it, and journey on in search of new matter and new refinements: but as it is pleasant and sometimes useful to look back, even to the first periods of infancy, and trace the turns and windings through which we have passed, so we may likewise derive many advantages by halting a while in our political career, and taking a review of the wondrous complicated labyrinth of little more than yesterday. truly may we say, that never did men grow old in so short a time! we have crowded the business of an age into the compass of a few months, and have been driven through such a rapid succession of things, that for the want of leisure to think, we unavoidably wasted knowledge as we came, and have left nearly as much behind us as we brought with us: but the road is yet rich with the fragments, and, before we finally lose sight of them, will repay us for the trouble of stopping to pick them up. were a man to be totally deprived of memory, he would be incapable of forming any just opinion; every thing about him would seem a chaos: he would have even his own history to ask from every one; and by not knowing how the world went in his absence, he would be at a loss to know how it ought to go on when he recovered, or rather, returned to it again. in like manner, though in a less degree, a too great inattention to past occurrences retards and bewilders our judgment in everything; while, on the contrary, by comparing what is past with what is present, we frequently hit on the true character of both, and become wise with very little trouble. it is a kind of counter-march, by which we get into the rear of time, and mark the movements and meaning of things as we make our return. there are certain circumstances, which, at the time of their happening, are a kind of riddles, and as every riddle is to be followed by its answer, so those kind of circumstances will be followed by their events, and those events are always the true solution. a considerable space of time may lapse between, and unless we continue our observations from the one to the other, the harmony of them will pass away unnoticed: but the misfortune is, that partly from the pressing necessity of some instant things, and partly from the impatience of our own tempers, we are frequently in such a hurry to make out the meaning of everything as fast as it happens, that we thereby never truly understand it; and not only start new difficulties to ourselves by so doing, but, as it were, embarrass providence in her good designs. i have been civil in stating this fault on a large scale, for, as it now stands, it does not appear to be levelled against any particular set of men; but were it to be refined a little further, it might afterwards be applied to the tories with a degree of striking propriety: those men have been remarkable for drawing sudden conclusions from single facts. the least apparent mishap on our side, or the least seeming advantage on the part of the enemy, have determined with them the fate of a whole campaign. by this hasty judgment they have converted a retreat into a defeat; mistook generalship for error; while every little advantage purposely given the enemy, either to weaken their strength by dividing it, embarrass their councils by multiplying their objects, or to secure a greater post by the surrender of a less, has been instantly magnified into a conquest. thus, by quartering ill policy upon ill principles, they have frequently promoted the cause they designed to injure, and injured that which they intended to promote. it is probable the campaign may open before this number comes from the press. the enemy have long lain idle, and amused themselves with carrying on the war by proclamations only. while they continue their delay our strength increases, and were they to move to action now, it is a circumstantial proof that they have no reinforcement coming; wherefore, in either case, the comparative advantage will be ours. like a wounded, disabled whale, they want only time and room to die in; and though in the agony of their exit, it may be unsafe to live within the flapping of their tail, yet every hour shortens their date, and lessens their power of mischief. if any thing happens while this number is in the press, it will afford me a subject for the last pages of it. at present i am tired of waiting; and as neither the enemy, nor the state of politics have yet produced any thing new, i am thereby left in the field of general matter, undirected by any striking or particular object. this crisis, therefore, will be made up rather of variety than novelty, and consist more of things useful than things wonderful. the success of the cause, the union of the people, and the means of supporting and securing both, are points which cannot be too much attended to. he who doubts of the former is a desponding coward, and he who wilfully disturbs the latter is a traitor. their characters are easily fixed, and under these short descriptions i leave them for the present. one of the greatest degrees of sentimental union which america ever knew, was in denying the right of the british parliament "to bind the colonies in all cases whatsoever." the declaration is, in its form, an almighty one, and is the loftiest stretch of arbitrary power that ever one set of men or one country claimed over another. taxation was nothing more than the putting the declared right into practice; and this failing, recourse was had to arms, as a means to establish both the right and the practice, or to answer a worse purpose, which will be mentioned in the course of this number. and in order to repay themselves the expense of an army, and to profit by their own injustice, the colonies were, by another law, declared to be in a state of actual rebellion, and of consequence all property therein would fall to the conquerors. the colonies, on their part, first, denied the right; secondly, they suspended the use of taxable articles, and petitioned against the practice of taxation: and these failing, they, thirdly, defended their property by force, as soon as it was forcibly invaded, and, in answer to the declaration of rebellion and non-protection, published their declaration of independence and right of self-protection. these, in a few words, are the different stages of the quarrel; and the parts are so intimately and necessarily connected with each other as to admit of no separation. a person, to use a trite phrase, must be a whig or a tory in a lump. his feelings, as a man, may be wounded; his charity, as a christian, may be moved; but his political principles must go through all the cases on one side or the other. he cannot be a whig in this stage, and a tory in that. if he says he is against the united independence of the continent, he is to all intents and purposes against her in all the rest; because this last comprehends the whole. and he may just as well say, that britain was right in declaring us rebels; right in taxing us; and right in declaring her "right to bind the colonies in all cases whatsoever." it signifies nothing what neutral ground, of his own creating, he may skulk upon for shelter, for the quarrel in no stage of it hath afforded any such ground; and either we or britain are absolutely right or absolutely wrong through the whole. britain, like a gamester nearly ruined, has now put all her losses into one bet, and is playing a desperate game for the total. if she wins it, she wins from me my life; she wins the continent as the forfeited property of rebels; the right of taxing those that are left as reduced subjects; and the power of binding them slaves: and the single die which determines this unparalleled event is, whether we support our independence or she overturn it. this is coming to the point at once. here is the touchstone to try men by. he that is not a supporter of the independent states of america in the same degree that his religious and political principles would suffer him to support the government of any other country, of which he called himself a subject, is, in the american sense of the word, a tory; and the instant that he endeavors to bring his toryism into practice, he becomes a traitor. the first can only be detected by a general test, and the law hath already provided for the latter. it is unnatural and impolitic to admit men who would root up our independence to have any share in our legislation, either as electors or representatives; because the support of our independence rests, in a great measure, on the vigor and purity of our public bodies. would britain, even in time of peace, much less in war, suffer an election to be carried by men who professed themselves to be not her subjects, or allow such to sit in parliament? certainly not. but there are a certain species of tories with whom conscience or principle has nothing to do, and who are so from avarice only. some of the first fortunes on the continent, on the part of the whigs, are staked on the issue of our present measures. and shall disaffection only be rewarded with security? can any thing be a greater inducement to a miserly man, than the hope of making his mammon safe? and though the scheme be fraught with every character of folly, yet, so long as he supposes, that by doing nothing materially criminal against america on one part, and by expressing his private disapprobation against independence, as palliative with the enemy, on the other part, he stands in a safe line between both; while, i say, this ground be suffered to remain, craft, and the spirit of avarice, will point it out, and men will not be wanting to fill up this most contemptible of all characters. these men, ashamed to own the sordid cause from whence their disaffection springs, add thereby meanness to meanness, by endeavoring to shelter themselves under the mask of hypocrisy; that is, they had rather be thought to be tories from some kind of principle, than tories by having no principle at all. but till such time as they can show some real reason, natural, political, or conscientious, on which their objections to independence are founded, we are not obliged to give them credit for being tories of the first stamp, but must set them down as tories of the last. in the second number of the crisis, i endeavored to show the impossibility of the enemy's making any conquest of america, that nothing was wanting on our part but patience and perseverance, and that, with these virtues, our success, as far as human speculation could discern, seemed as certain as fate. but as there are many among us, who, influenced by others, have regularly gone back from the principles they once held, in proportion as we have gone forward; and as it is the unfortunate lot of many a good man to live within the neighborhood of disaffected ones; i shall, therefore, for the sake of confirming the one and recovering the other, endeavor, in the space of a page or two, to go over some of the leading principles in support of independence. it is a much pleasanter task to prevent vice than to punish it, and, however our tempers may be gratified by resentment, or our national expenses eased by forfeited estates, harmony and friendship is, nevertheless, the happiest condition a country can be blessed with. the principal arguments in support of independence may be comprehended under the four following heads. st, the natural right of the continent to independence. d, her interest in being independent. d, the necessity,--and th, the moral advantages arising therefrom. i. the natural right of the continent to independence, is a point which never yet was called in question. it will not even admit of a debate. to deny such a right, would be a kind of atheism against nature: and the best answer to such an objection would be, "the fool hath said in his heart there is no god." ii. the interest of the continent in being independent is a point as clearly right as the former. america, by her own internal industry, and unknown to all the powers of europe, was, at the beginning of the dispute, arrived at a pitch of greatness, trade and population, beyond which it was the interest of britain not to suffer her to pass, lest she should grow too powerful to be kept subordinate. she began to view this country with the same uneasy malicious eye, with which a covetous guardian would view his ward, whose estate he had been enriching himself by for twenty years, and saw him just arriving at manhood. and america owes no more to britain for her present maturity, than the ward would to the guardian for being twenty-one years of age. that america hath flourished at the time she was under the government of britain, is true; but there is every natural reason to believe, that had she been an independent country from the first settlement thereof, uncontrolled by any foreign power, free to make her own laws, regulate and encourage her own commerce, she had by this time been of much greater worth than now. the case is simply this: the first settlers in the different colonies were left to shift for themselves, unnoticed and unsupported by any european government; but as the tyranny and persecution of the old world daily drove numbers to the new, and as, by the favor of heaven on their industry and perseverance, they grew into importance, so, in a like degree, they became an object of profit to the greedy eyes of europe. it was impossible, in this state of infancy, however thriving and promising, that they could resist the power of any armed invader that should seek to bring them under his authority. in this situation, britain thought it worth her while to claim them, and the continent received and acknowledged the claimer. it was, in reality, of no very great importance who was her master, seeing, that from the force and ambition of the different powers of europe, she must, till she acquired strength enough to assert her own right, acknowledge some one. as well, perhaps, britain as another; and it might have been as well to have been under the states of holland as any. the same hopes of engrossing and profiting by her trade, by not oppressing it too much, would have operated alike with any master, and produced to the colonies the same effects. the clamor of protection, likewise, was all a farce; because, in order to make that protection necessary, she must first, by her own quarrels, create us enemies. hard terms indeed! to know whether it be the interest of the continent to be independent, we need only ask this easy, simple question: is it the interest of a man to be a boy all his life? the answer to one will be the answer to both. america hath been one continued scene of legislative contention from the first king's representative to the last; and this was unavoidably founded in the natural opposition of interest between the old country and the new. a governor sent from england, or receiving his authority therefrom, ought never to have been considered in any other light than that of a genteel commissioned spy, whose private business was information, and his public business a kind of civilized oppression. in the first of these characters he was to watch the tempers, sentiments, and disposition of the people, the growth of trade, and the increase of private fortunes; and, in the latter, to suppress all such acts of the assemblies, however beneficial to the people, which did not directly or indirectly throw some increase of power or profit into the hands of those that sent him. america, till now, could never be called a free country, because her legislation depended on the will of a man three thousand miles distant, whose interest was in opposition to ours, and who, by a single "no," could forbid what law he pleased. the freedom of trade, likewise, is, to a trading country, an article of such importance, that the principal source of wealth depends upon it; and it is impossible that any country can flourish, as it otherwise might do, whose commerce is engrossed, cramped and fettered by the laws and mandates of another--yet these evils, and more than i can here enumerate, the continent has suffered by being under the government of england. by an independence we clear the whole at once--put an end to the business of unanswered petitions and fruitless remonstrances--exchange britain for europe--shake hands with the world--live at peace with the world--and trade to any market where we can buy and sell. iii. the necessity, likewise, of being independent, even before it was declared, became so evident and important, that the continent ran the risk of being ruined every day that she delayed it. there was reason to believe that britain would endeavor to make an european matter of it, and, rather than lose the whole, would dismember it, like poland, and dispose of her several claims to the highest bidder. genoa, failing in her attempts to reduce corsica, made a sale of it to the french, and such trafficks have been common in the old world. we had at that time no ambassador in any part of europe, to counteract her negotiations, and by that means she had the range of every foreign court uncontradicted on our part. we even knew nothing of the treaty for the hessians till it was concluded, and the troops ready to embark. had we been independent before, we had probably prevented her obtaining them. we had no credit abroad, because of our rebellious dependency. our ships could claim no protection in foreign ports, because we afforded them no justifiable reason for granting it to us. the calling ourselves subjects, and at the same time fighting against the power which we acknowledged, was a dangerous precedent to all europe. if the grievances justified the taking up arms, they justified our separation; if they did not justify our separation, neither could they justify our taking up arms. all europe was interested in reducing us as rebels, and all europe (or the greatest part at least) is interested in supporting us as independent states. at home our condition was still worse: our currency had no foundation, and the fall of it would have ruined whig and tory alike. we had no other law than a kind of moderated passion; no other civil power than an honest mob; and no other protection than the temporary attachment of one man to another. had independence been delayed a few months longer, this continent would have been plunged into irrecoverable confusion: some violent for it, some against it, till, in the general cabal, the rich would have been ruined, and the poor destroyed. it is to independence that every tory owes the present safety which he lives in; for by that, and that only, we emerged from a state of dangerous suspense, and became a regular people. the necessity, likewise, of being independent, had there been no rupture between britain and america, would, in a little time, have brought one on. the increasing importance of commerce, the weight and perplexity of legislation, and the entangled state of european politics, would daily have shown to the continent the impossibility of continuing subordinate; for, after the coolest reflections on the matter, this must be allowed, that britain was too jealous of america to govern it justly; too ignorant of it to govern it well; and too far distant from it to govern it at all. iv. but what weigh most with all men of serious reflection are, the moral advantages arising from independence: war and desolation have become the trade of the old world; and america neither could nor can be under the government of britain without becoming a sharer of her guilt, and a partner in all the dismal commerce of death. the spirit of duelling, extended on a national scale, is a proper character for european wars. they have seldom any other motive than pride, or any other object than fame. the conquerors and the conquered are generally ruined alike, and the chief difference at last is, that the one marches home with his honors, and the other without them. 'tis the natural temper of the english to fight for a feather, if they suppose that feather to be an affront; and america, without the right of asking why, must have abetted in every quarrel, and abided by its fate. it is a shocking situation to live in, that one country must be brought into all the wars of another, whether the measure be right or wrong, or whether she will or not; yet this, in the fullest extent, was, and ever would be, the unavoidable consequence of the connection. surely the quakers forgot their own principles when, in their late testimony, they called this connection, with these military and miserable appendages hanging to it--"the happy constitution." britain, for centuries past, has been nearly fifty years out of every hundred at war with some power or other. it certainly ought to be a conscientious as well political consideration with america, not to dip her hands in the bloody work of europe. our situation affords us a retreat from their cabals, and the present happy union of the states bids fair for extirpating the future use of arms from one quarter of the world; yet such have been the irreligious politics of the present leaders of the quakers, that, for the sake of they scarce know what, they would cut off every hope of such a blessing by tying this continent to britain, like hector to the chariot wheel of achilles, to be dragged through all the miseries of endless european wars. the connection, viewed from this ground, is distressing to every man who has the feelings of humanity. by having britain for our master, we became enemies to the greatest part of europe, and they to us: and the consequence was war inevitable. by being our own masters, independent of any foreign one, we have europe for our friends, and the prospect of an endless peace among ourselves. those who were advocates for the british government over these colonies, were obliged to limit both their arguments and their ideas to the period of an european peace only; the moment britain became plunged in war, every supposed convenience to us vanished, and all we could hope for was not to be ruined. could this be a desirable condition for a young country to be in? had the french pursued their fortune immediately after the defeat of braddock last war, this city and province had then experienced the woful calamities of being a british subject. a scene of the same kind might happen again; for america, considered as a subject to the crown of britain, would ever have been the seat of war, and the bone of contention between the two powers. on the whole, if the future expulsion of arms from one quarter of the world would be a desirable object to a peaceable man; if the freedom of trade to every part of it can engage the attention of a man of business; if the support or fall of millions of currency can affect our interests; if the entire possession of estates, by cutting off the lordly claims of britain over the soil, deserves the regard of landed property; and if the right of making our own laws, uncontrolled by royal or ministerial spies or mandates, be worthy our care as freemen;--then are all men interested in the support of independence; and may he that supports it not, be driven from the blessing, and live unpitied beneath the servile sufferings of scandalous subjection! we have been amused with the tales of ancient wonders; we have read, and wept over the histories of other nations: applauded, censured, or pitied, as their cases affected us. the fortitude and patience of the sufferers--the justness of their cause--the weight of their oppressions and oppressors--the object to be saved or lost--with all the consequences of a defeat or a conquest--have, in the hour of sympathy, bewitched our hearts, and chained it to their fate: but where is the power that ever made war upon petitioners? or where is the war on which a world was staked till now? we may not, perhaps, be wise enough to make all the advantages we ought of our independence; but they are, nevertheless, marked and presented to us with every character of great and good, and worthy the hand of him who sent them. i look through the present trouble to a time of tranquillity, when we shall have it in our power to set an example of peace to all the world. were the quakers really impressed and influenced by the quiet principles they profess to hold, they would, however they might disapprove the means, be the first of all men to approve of independence, because, by separating ourselves from the cities of sodom and gomorrah, it affords an opportunity never given to man before of carrying their favourite principle of peace into general practice, by establishing governments that shall hereafter exist without wars. o! ye fallen, cringing, priest-and-pemberton-ridden people! what more can we say of ye than that a religious quaker is a valuable character, and a political quaker a real jesuit. having thus gone over some of the principal points in support of independence, i must now request the reader to return back with me to the period when it first began to be a public doctrine, and to examine the progress it has made among the various classes of men. the area i mean to begin at, is the breaking out of hostilities, april th, . until this event happened, the continent seemed to view the dispute as a kind of law-suit for a matter of right, litigating between the old country and the new; and she felt the same kind and degree of horror, as if she had seen an oppressive plaintiff, at the head of a band of ruffians, enter the court, while the cause was before it, and put the judge, the jury, the defendant and his counsel, to the sword. perhaps a more heart-felt convulsion never reached a country with the same degree of power and rapidity before, and never may again. pity for the sufferers, mixed with indignation at the violence, and heightened with apprehensions of undergoing the same fate, made the affair of lexington the affair of the continent. every part of it felt the shock, and all vibrated together. a general promotion of sentiment took place: those who had drank deeply into whiggish principles, that is, the right and necessity not only of opposing, but wholly setting aside the power of the crown as soon as it became practically dangerous (for in theory it was always so), stepped into the first stage of independence; while another class of whigs, equally sound in principle, but not so sanguine in enterprise, attached themselves the stronger to the cause, and fell close in with the rear of the former; their partition was a mere point. numbers of the moderate men, whose chief fault, at that time, arose from entertaining a better opinion of britain than she deserved, convinced now of their mistake, gave her up, and publicly declared themselves good whigs. while the tories, seeing it was no longer a laughing matter, either sank into silent obscurity, or contented themselves with coming forth and abusing general gage: not a single advocate appeared to justify the action of that day; it seemed to appear to every one with the same magnitude, struck every one with the same force, and created in every one the same abhorrence. from this period we may date the growth of independence. if the many circumstances which happened at this memorable time, be taken in one view, and compared with each other, they will justify a conclusion which seems not to have been attended to, i mean a fixed design in the king and ministry of driving america into arms, in order that they might be furnished with a pretence for seizing the whole continent, as the immediate property of the crown. a noble plunder for hungry courtiers! it ought to be remembered, that the first petition from the congress was at this time unanswered on the part of the british king. that the motion, called lord north's motion, of the th of february, , arrived in america the latter end of march. this motion was to be laid, by the several governors then in being, before, the assembly of each province; and the first assembly before which it was laid, was the assembly of pennsylvania, in may following. this being a just state of the case, i then ask, why were hostilities commenced between the time of passing the resolve in the house of commons, of the th of february, and the time of the assemblies meeting to deliberate upon it? degrading and famous as that motion was, there is nevertheless reason to believe that the king and his adherents were afraid the colonies would agree to it, and lest they should, took effectual care they should not, by provoking them with hostilities in the interim. they had not the least doubt at that time of conquering america at one blow; and what they expected to get by a conquest being infinitely greater than any thing they could hope to get either by taxation or accommodation, they seemed determined to prevent even the possibility of hearing each other, lest america should disappoint their greedy hopes of the whole, by listening even to their own terms. on the one hand they refused to hear the petition of the continent, and on the other hand took effectual care the continent should not hear them. that the motion of the th february and the orders for commencing hostilities were both concerted by the same person or persons, and not the latter by general gage, as was falsely imagined at first, is evident from an extract of a letter of his to the administration, read among other papers in the house of commons; in which he informs his masters, "that though their idea of his disarming certain counties was a right one, yet it required him to be master of the country, in order to enable him to execute it." this was prior to the commencement of hostilities, and consequently before the motion of the th february could be deliberated on by the several assemblies. perhaps it may be asked, why was the motion passed, if there was at the same time a plan to aggravate the americans not to listen to it? lord north assigned one reason himself, which was a hope of dividing them. this was publicly tempting them to reject it; that if, in case the injury of arms should fail in provoking them sufficiently, the insult of such a declaration might fill it up. but by passing the motion and getting it afterwards rejected in america, it enabled them, in their wicked idea of politics, among other things, to hold up the colonies to foreign powers, with every possible mark of disobedience and rebellion. they had applied to those powers not to supply the continent with arms, ammunition, etc., and it was necessary they should incense them against us, by assigning on their own part some seeming reputable reason why. by dividing, it had a tendency to weaken the states, and likewise to perplex the adherents of america in england. but the principal scheme, and that which has marked their character in every part of their conduct, was a design of precipitating the colonies into a state which they might afterwards deem rebellion, and, under that pretence, put an end to all future complaints, petitions and remonstrances, by seizing the whole at once. they had ravaged one part of the globe, till it could glut them no longer; their prodigality required new plunder, and through the east india article tea they hoped to transfer their rapine from that quarter of the world to this. every designed quarrel had its pretence; and the same barbarian avarice accompanied the plant to america, which ruined the country that produced it. that men never turn rogues without turning fools is a maxim, sooner or later, universally true. the commencement of hostilities, being in the beginning of april, was, of all times the worst chosen: the congress were to meet the tenth of may following, and the distress the continent felt at this unparalleled outrage gave a stability to that body which no other circumstance could have done. it suppressed too all inferior debates, and bound them together by a necessitous affection, without giving them time to differ upon trifles. the suffering likewise softened the whole body of the people into a degree of pliability, which laid the principal foundation-stone of union, order, and government; and which, at any other time, might only have fretted and then faded away unnoticed and unimproved. but providence, who best knows how to time her misfortunes as well as her immediate favors, chose this to be the time, and who dare dispute it? it did not seem the disposition of the people, at this crisis, to heap petition upon petition, while the former remained unanswered. the measure however was carried in congress, and a second petition was sent; of which i shall only remark that it was submissive even to a dangerous fault, because the prayer of it appealed solely to what it called the prerogative of the crown, while the matter in dispute was confessedly constitutional. but even this petition, flattering as it was, was still not so harmonious as the chink of cash, and consequently not sufficiently grateful to the tyrant and his ministry. from every circumstance it is evident, that it was the determination of the british court to have nothing to do with america but to conquer her fully and absolutely. they were certain of success, and the field of battle was the only place of treaty. i am confident there are thousands and tens of thousands in america who wonder now that they should ever have thought otherwise; but the sin of that day was the sin of civility; yet it operated against our present good in the same manner that a civil opinion of the devil would against our future peace. independence was a doctrine scarce and rare, even towards the conclusion of the year ; all our politics had been founded on the hope of expectation of making the matter up--a hope, which, though general on the side of america, had never entered the head or heart of the british court. their hope was conquest and confiscation. good heavens! what volumes of thanks does america owe to britain? what infinite obligation to the tool that fills, with paradoxical vacancy, the throne! nothing but the sharpest essence of villany, compounded with the strongest distillation of folly, could have produced a menstruum that would have effected a separation. the congress in administered an abortive medicine to independence, by prohibiting the importation of goods, and the succeeding congress rendered the dose still more dangerous by continuing it. had independence been a settled system with america, (as britain has advanced,) she ought to have doubled her importation, and prohibited in some degree her exportation. and this single circumstance is sufficient to acquit america before any jury of nations, of having a continental plan of independence in view; a charge which, had it been true, would have been honorable, but is so grossly false, that either the amazing ignorance or the wilful dishonesty of the british court is effectually proved by it. the second petition, like the first, produced no answer; it was scarcely acknowledged to have been received; the british court were too determined in their villainy even to act it artfully, and in their rage for conquest neglected the necessary subtleties for obtaining it. they might have divided, distracted and played a thousand tricks with us, had they been as cunning as they were cruel. this last indignity gave a new spring to independence. those who knew the savage obstinacy of the king, and the jobbing, gambling spirit of the court, predicted the fate of the petition, as soon as it was sent from america; for the men being known, their measures were easily foreseen. as politicians we ought not so much to ground our hopes on the reasonableness of the thing we ask, as on the reasonableness of the person of whom we ask it: who would expect discretion from a fool, candor from a tyrant, or justice from a villain? as every prospect of accommodation seemed now to fail fast, men began to think seriously on the matter; and their reason being thus stripped of the false hope which had long encompassed it, became approachable by fair debate: yet still the bulk of the people hesitated; they startled at the novelty of independence, without once considering that our getting into arms at first was a more extraordinary novelty, and that all other nations had gone through the work of independence before us. they doubted likewise the ability of the continent to support it, without reflecting that it required the same force to obtain an accommodation by arms as an independence. if the one was acquirable, the other was the same; because, to accomplish either, it was necessary that our strength should be too great for britain to subdue; and it was too unreasonable to suppose, that with the power of being masters, we should submit to be servants.* their caution at this time was exceedingly misplaced; for if they were able to defend their property and maintain their rights by arms, they, consequently, were able to defend and support their independence; and in proportion as these men saw the necessity and correctness of the measure, they honestly and openly declared and adopted it, and the part that they had acted since has done them honor and fully established their characters. error in opinion has this peculiar advantage with it, that the foremost point of the contrary ground may at any time be reached by the sudden exertion of a thought; and it frequently happens in sentimental differences, that some striking circumstance, or some forcible reason quickly conceived, will effect in an instant what neither argument nor example could produce in an age. * in this state of political suspense the pamphlet common sense made its appearance, and the success it met with does not become me to mention. dr. franklin, mr. samuel and john adams, were severally spoken of as the supposed author. i had not, at that time, the pleasure either of personally knowing or being known to the two last gentlemen. the favor of dr. franklin's friendship i possessed in england, and my introduction to this part of the world was through his patronage. i happened, when a school-boy, to pick up a pleasing natural history of virginia, and my inclination from that day of seeing the western side of the atlantic never left me. in october, , dr. franklin proposed giving me such materials as were in his hands, towards completing a history of the present transactions, and seemed desirous of having the first volume out the next spring. i had then formed the outlines of common sense, and finished nearly the first part; and as i supposed the doctor's design in getting out a history was to open the new year with a new system, i expected to surprise him with a production on that subject, much earlier than he thought of; and without informing him what i was doing, got it ready for the press as fast as i conveniently could, and sent him the first pamphlet that was printed off. i find it impossible in the small compass i am limited to, to trace out the progress which independence has made on the minds of the different classes of men, and the several reasons by which they were moved. with some, it was a passionate abhorrence against the king of england and his ministry, as a set of savages and brutes; and these men, governed by the agony of a wounded mind, were for trusting every thing to hope and heaven, and bidding defiance at once. with others, it was a growing conviction that the scheme of the british court was to create, ferment and drive on a quarrel, for the sake of confiscated plunder: and men of this class ripened into independence in proportion as the evidence increased. while a third class conceived it was the true interest of america, internally and externally, to be her own master, and gave their support to independence, step by step, as they saw her abilities to maintain it enlarge. with many, it was a compound of all these reasons; while those who were too callous to be reached by either, remained, and still remain tories. the legal necessity of being independent, with several collateral reasons, is pointed out in an elegant masterly manner, in a charge to the grand jury for the district of charleston, by the hon. william henry drayton, chief justice of south carolina, [april , ]. this performance, and the address of the convention of new york, are pieces, in my humble opinion, of the first rank in america. the principal causes why independence has not been so universally supported as it ought, are fear and indolence, and the causes why it has been opposed, are, avarice, down-right villany, and lust of personal power. there is not such a being in america as a tory from conscience; some secret defect or other is interwoven in the character of all those, be they men or women, who can look with patience on the brutality, luxury and debauchery of the british court, and the violations of their army here. a woman's virtue must sit very lightly on her who can even hint a favorable sentiment in their behalf. it is remarkable that the whole race of prostitutes in new york were tories; and the schemes for supporting the tory cause in this city, for which several are now in jail, and one hanged, were concerted and carried on in common bawdy-houses, assisted by those who kept them. the connection between vice and meanness is a fit subject for satire, but when the satire is a fact, it cuts with the irresistible power of a diamond. if a quaker, in defence of his just rights, his property, and the chastity of his house, takes up a musket, he is expelled the meeting; but the present king of england, who seduced and took into keeping a sister of their society, is reverenced and supported by repeated testimonies, while, the friendly noodle from whom she was taken (and who is now in this city) continues a drudge in the service of his rival, as if proud of being cuckolded by a creature called a king. our support and success depend on such a variety of men and circumstances, that every one who does but wish well, is of some use: there are men who have a strange aversion to arms, yet have hearts to risk every shilling in the cause, or in support of those who have better talents for defending it. nature, in the arrangement of mankind, has fitted some for every service in life: were all soldiers, all would starve and go naked, and were none soldiers, all would be slaves. as disaffection to independence is the badge of a tory, so affection to it is the mark of a whig; and the different services of the whigs, down from those who nobly contribute every thing, to those who have nothing to render but their wishes, tend all to the same center, though with different degrees of merit and ability. the larger we make the circle, the more we shall harmonize, and the stronger we shall be. all we want to shut out is disaffection, and, that excluded, we must accept from each other such duties as we are best fitted to bestow. a narrow system of politics, like a narrow system of religion, is calculated only to sour the temper, and be at variance with mankind. all we want to know in america is simply this, who is for independence, and who is not? those who are for it, will support it, and the remainder will undoubtedly see the reasonableness of paying the charges; while those who oppose or seek to betray it, must expect the more rigid fate of the jail and the gibbet. there is a bastard kind of generosity, which being extended to all men, is as fatal to society, on one hand, as the want of true generosity is on the other. a lax manner of administering justice, falsely termed moderation, has a tendency both to dispirit public virtue, and promote the growth of public evils. had the late committee of safety taken cognizance of the last testimony of the quakers and proceeded against such delinquents as were concerned therein, they had, probably, prevented the treasonable plans which have been concerted since. when one villain is suffered to escape, it encourages another to proceed, either from a hope of escaping likewise, or an apprehension that we dare not punish. it has been a matter of general surprise, that no notice was taken of the incendiary publication of the quakers, of the th of november last; a publication evidently intended to promote sedition and treason, and encourage the enemy, who were then within a day's march of this city, to proceed on and possess it. i here present the reader with a memorial which was laid before the board of safety a few days after the testimony appeared. not a member of that board, that i conversed with, but expressed the highest detestation of the perverted principles and conduct of the quaker junto, and a wish that the board would take the matter up; notwithstanding which, it was suffered to pass away unnoticed, to the encouragement of new acts of treason, the general danger of the cause, and the disgrace of the state. to the honorable the council of safety of the state of pennsylvania. at a meeting of a reputable number of the inhabitants of the city of philadelphia, impressed with a proper sense of the justice of the cause which this continent is engaged in, and animated with a generous fervor for supporting the same, it was resolved, that the following be laid before the board of safety: "we profess liberality of sentiment to all men; with this distinction only, that those who do not deserve it would become wise and seek to deserve it. we hold the pure doctrines of universal liberty of conscience, and conceive it our duty to endeavor to secure that sacred right to others, as well as to defend it for ourselves; for we undertake not to judge of the religious rectitude of tenets, but leave the whole matter to him who made us. "we persecute no man, neither will we abet in the persecution of any man for religion's sake; our common relation to others being that of fellow-citizens and fellow-subjects of one single community; and in this line of connection we hold out the right hand of fellowship to all men. but we should conceive ourselves to be unworthy members of the free and independent states of america, were we unconcernedly to see or to suffer any treasonable wound, public or private, directly or indirectly, to be given against the peace and safety of the same. we inquire not into the rank of the offenders, nor into their religious persuasion; we have no business with either, our part being only to find them out and exhibit them to justice. "a printed paper, dated the th of november, and signed 'john pemberton,' whom we suppose to be an inhabitant of this city, has lately been dispersed abroad, a copy of which accompanies this. had the framers and publishers of that paper conceived it their duty to exhort the youth and others of their society, to a patient submission under the present trying visitations, and humbly to wait the event of heaven towards them, they had therein shown a christian temper, and we had been silent; but the anger and political virulence with which their instructions are given, and the abuse with which they stigmatize all ranks of men not thinking like themselves, leave no doubt on our minds from what spirit their publication proceeded: and it is disgraceful to the pure cause of truth, that men can dally with words of the most sacred import, and play them off as mechanically as if religion consisted only in contrivance. we know of no instance in which the quakers have been compelled to bear arms, or to do any thing which might strain their conscience; wherefore their advice, 'to withstand and refuse to submit to the arbitrary instructions and ordinances of men,' appear to us a false alarm, and could only be treasonably calculated to gain favor with our enemies, when they are seemingly on the brink of invading this state, or, what is still worse, to weaken the hands of our defence, that their entrance into this city might be made practicable and easy. "we disclaim all tumult and disorder in the punishment of offenders; and wish to be governed, not by temper but by reason, in the manner of treating them. we are sensible that our cause has suffered by the two following errors: first, by ill-judged lenity to traitorous persons in some cases; and, secondly, by only a passionate treatment of them in others. for the future we disown both, and wish to be steady in our proceedings, and serious in our punishments. "every state in america has, by the repeated voice of its inhabitants, directed and authorized the continental congress to publish a formal declaration of independence of, and separation from, the oppressive king and parliament of great britain; and we look on every man as an enemy, who does not in some line or other, give his assistance towards supporting the same; at the same time we consider the offence to be heightened to a degree of unpardonable guilt, when such persons, under the show of religion, endeavor, either by writing, speaking, or otherwise, to subvert, overturn, or bring reproach upon the independence of this continent as declared by congress. "the publishers of the paper signed 'john pemberton,' have called in a loud manner to their friends and connections, 'to withstand or refuse' obedience to whatever 'instructions or ordinances' may be published, not warranted by (what they call) 'that happy constitution under which they and others long enjoyed tranquillity and peace.' if this be not treason, we know not what may properly be called by that name. "to us it is a matter of surprise and astonishment, that men with the word 'peace, peace,' continually on their lips, should be so fond of living under and supporting a government, and at the same time calling it 'happy,' which is never better pleased than when a war--that has filled india with carnage and famine, africa with slavery, and tampered with indians and negroes to cut the throats of the freemen of america. we conceive it a disgrace to this state, to harbor or wink at such palpable hypocrisy. but as we seek not to hurt the hair of any man's head, when we can make ourselves safe without, we wish such persons to restore peace to themselves and us, by removing themselves to some part of the king of great britain's dominions, as by that means they may live unmolested by us and we by them; for our fixed opinion is, that those who do not deserve a place among us, ought not to have one. "we conclude with requesting the council of safety to take into consideration the paper signed 'john pemberton,' and if it shall appear to them to be of a dangerous tendency, or of a treasonable nature, that they would commit the signer, together with such other persons as they can discover were concerned therein, into custody, until such time as some mode of trial shall ascertain the full degree of their guilt and punishment; in the doing of which, we wish their judges, whoever they may be, to disregard the man, his connections, interest, riches, poverty, or principles of religion, and to attend to the nature of his offence only." the most cavilling sectarian cannot accuse the foregoing with containing the least ingredient of persecution. the free spirit on which the american cause is founded, disdains to mix with such an impurity, and leaves it as rubbish fit only for narrow and suspicious minds to grovel in. suspicion and persecution are weeds of the same dunghill, and flourish together. had the quakers minded their religion and their business, they might have lived through this dispute in enviable ease, and none would have molested them. the common phrase with these people is, 'our principles are peace.' to which may be replied, and your practices are the reverse; for never did the conduct of men oppose their own doctrine more notoriously than the present race of the quakers. they have artfully changed themselves into a different sort of people to what they used to be, and yet have the address to persuade each other that they are not altered; like antiquated virgins, they see not the havoc deformity has made upon them, but pleasantly mistaking wrinkles for dimples, conceive themselves yet lovely and wonder at the stupid world for not admiring them. did no injury arise to the public by this apostacy of the quakers from themselves, the public would have nothing to do with it; but as both the design and consequences are pointed against a cause in which the whole community are interested, it is therefore no longer a subject confined to the cognizance of the meeting only, but comes, as a matter of criminality, before the authority either of the particular state in which it is acted, or of the continent against which it operates. every attempt, now, to support the authority of the king and parliament of great britain over america, is treason against every state; therefore it is impossible that any one can pardon or screen from punishment an offender against all. but to proceed: while the infatuated tories of this and other states were last spring talking of commissioners, accommodation, making the matter up, and the lord knows what stuff and nonsense, their good king and ministry were glutting themselves with the revenge of reducing america to unconditional submission, and solacing each other with the certainty of conquering it in one campaign. the following quotations are from the parliamentary register of the debate's of the house of lords, march th, : "the americans," says lord talbot,* "have been obstinate, undutiful, and ungovernable from the very beginning, from their first early and infant settlements; and i am every day more and more convinced that this people never will be brought back to their duty, and the subordinate relation they stand in to this country, till reduced to unconditional, effectual submission; no concession on our part, no lenity, no endurance, will have any other effect but that of increasing their insolence." * steward of the king's household. "the struggle," says lord townsend,* "is now a struggle for power; the die is cast, and the only point which now remains to be determined is, in what manner the war can be most effectually prosecuted and speedily finished, in order to procure that unconditional submission, which has been so ably stated by the noble earl with the white staff" (meaning lord talbot;) "and i have no reason to doubt that the measures now pursuing will put an end to the war in the course of a single campaign. should it linger longer, we shall then have reason to expect that some foreign power will interfere, and take advantage of our domestic troubles and civil distractions." * formerly general townsend, at quebec, and late lord-lieutenant of ireland. lord littleton. "my sentiments are pretty well known. i shall only observe now that lenient measures have had no other effect than to produce insult after insult; that the more we conceded, the higher america rose in her demands, and the more insolent she has grown. it is for this reason that i am now for the most effective and decisive measures; and am of opinion that no alternative is left us, but to relinquish america for ever, or finally determine to compel her to acknowledge the legislative authority of this country; and it is the principle of an unconditional submission i would be for maintaining." can words be more expressive than these? surely the tories will believe the tory lords! the truth is, they do believe them and know as fully as any whig on the continent knows, that the king and ministry never had the least design of an accommodation with america, but an absolute, unconditional conquest. and the part which the tories were to act, was, by downright lying, to endeavor to put the continent off its guard, and to divide and sow discontent in the minds of such whigs as they might gain an influence over. in short, to keep up a distraction here, that the force sent from england might be able to conquer in "one campaign." they and the ministry were, by a different game, playing into each other's hands. the cry of the tories in england was, "no reconciliation, no accommodation," in order to obtain the greater military force; while those in america were crying nothing but "reconciliation and accommodation," that the force sent might conquer with the less resistance. but this "single campaign" is over, and america not conquered. the whole work is yet to do, and the force much less to do it with. their condition is both despicable and deplorable: out of cash--out of heart, and out of hope. a country furnished with arms and ammunition as america now is, with three millions of inhabitants, and three thousand miles distant from the nearest enemy that can approach her, is able to look and laugh them in the face. howe appears to have two objects in view, either to go up the north river, or come to philadelphia. by going up the north river, he secures a retreat for his army through canada, but the ships must return if they return at all, the same way they went; as our army would be in the rear, the safety of their passage down is a doubtful matter. by such a motion he shuts himself from all supplies from europe, but through canada, and exposes his army and navy to the danger of perishing. the idea of his cutting off the communication between the eastern and southern states, by means of the north river, is merely visionary. he cannot do it by his shipping; because no ship can lay long at anchor in any river within reach of the shore; a single gun would drive a first rate from such a station. this was fully proved last october at forts washington and lee, where one gun only, on each side of the river, obliged two frigates to cut and be towed off in an hour's time. neither can he cut it off by his army; because the several posts they must occupy would divide them almost to nothing, and expose them to be picked up by ours like pebbles on a river's bank; but admitting that he could, where is the injury? because, while his whole force is cantoned out, as sentries over the water, they will be very innocently employed, and the moment they march into the country the communication opens. the most probable object is philadelphia, and the reasons are many. howe's business is to conquer it, and in proportion as he finds himself unable to the task, he will employ his strength to distress women and weak minds, in order to accomplish through their fears what he cannot accomplish by his own force. his coming or attempting to come to philadelphia is a circumstance that proves his weakness: for no general that felt himself able to take the field and attack his antagonist would think of bringing his army into a city in the summer time; and this mere shifting the scene from place to place, without effecting any thing, has feebleness and cowardice on the face of it, and holds him up in a contemptible light to all who can reason justly and firmly. by several informations from new york, it appears that their army in general, both officers and men, have given up the expectation of conquering america; their eye now is fixed upon the spoil. they suppose philadelphia to be rich with stores, and as they think to get more by robbing a town than by attacking an army, their movement towards this city is probable. we are not now contending against an army of soldiers, but against a band of thieves, who had rather plunder than fight, and have no other hope of conquest than by cruelty. they expect to get a mighty booty, and strike another general panic, by making a sudden movement and getting possession of this city; but unless they can march out as well as in, or get the entire command of the river, to remove off their plunder, they may probably be stopped with the stolen goods upon them. they have never yet succeeded wherever they have been opposed, but at fort washington. at charleston their defeat was effectual. at ticonderoga they ran away. in every skirmish at kingsbridge and the white plains they were obliged to retreat, and the instant that our arms were turned upon them in the jerseys, they turned likewise, and those that turned not were taken. the necessity of always fitting our internal police to the circumstances of the times we live in, is something so strikingly obvious, that no sufficient objection can be made against it. the safety of all societies depends upon it; and where this point is not attended to, the consequences will either be a general languor or a tumult. the encouragement and protection of the good subjects of any state, and the suppression and punishment of bad ones, are the principal objects for which all authority is instituted, and the line in which it ought to operate. we have in this city a strange variety of men and characters, and the circumstances of the times require that they should be publicly known; it is not the number of tories that hurt us, so much as the not finding out who they are; men must now take one side or the other, and abide by the consequences: the quakers, trusting to their short-sighted sagacity, have, most unluckily for them, made their declaration in their last testimony, and we ought now to take them at their word. they have involuntarily read themselves out of the continental meeting, and cannot hope to be restored to it again but by payment and penitence. men whose political principles are founded on avarice, are beyond the reach of reason, and the only cure of toryism of this cast is to tax it. a substantial good drawn from a real evil, is of the same benefit to society, as if drawn from a virtue; and where men have not public spirit to render themselves serviceable, it ought to be the study of government to draw the best use possible from their vices. when the governing passion of any man, or set of men, is once known, the method of managing them is easy; for even misers, whom no public virtue can impress, would become generous, could a heavy tax be laid upon covetousness. the tories have endeavored to insure their property with the enemy, by forfeiting their reputation with us; from which may be justly inferred, that their governing passion is avarice. make them as much afraid of losing on one side as on the other, and you stagger their toryism; make them more so, and you reclaim them; for their principle is to worship the power which they are most afraid of. this method of considering men and things together, opens into a large field for speculation, and affords me an opportunity of offering some observations on the state of our currency, so as to make the support of it go hand in hand with the suppression of disaffection and the encouragement of public spirit. the thing which first presents itself in inspecting the state of the currency, is, that we have too much of it, and that there is a necessity of reducing the quantity, in order to increase the value. men are daily growing poor by the very means that they take to get rich; for in the same proportion that the prices of all goods on hand are raised, the value of all money laid by is reduced. a simple case will make this clear; let a man have l. in cash, and as many goods on hand as will to-day sell for l.; but not content with the present market price, he raises them to l. and by so doing obliges others, in their own defence, to raise cent. per cent. likewise; in this case it is evident that his hundred pounds laid by, is reduced fifty pounds in value; whereas, had the market lowered cent. per cent., his goods would have sold but for ten, but his hundred pounds would have risen in value to two hundred; because it would then purchase as many goods again, or support his family as long again as before. and, strange as it may seem, he is one hundred and fifty pounds the poorer for raising his goods, to what he would have been had he lowered them; because the forty pounds which his goods sold for, is, by the general raise of the market cent. per cent., rendered of no more value than the ten pounds would be had the market fallen in the same proportion; and, consequently, the whole difference of gain or loss is on the difference in value of the hundred pounds laid by, viz. from fifty to two hundred. this rage for raising goods is for several reasons much more the fault of the tories than the whigs; and yet the tories (to their shame and confusion ought they to be told of it) are by far the most noisy and discontented. the greatest part of the whigs, by being now either in the army or employed in some public service, are buyers only and not sellers, and as this evil has its origin in trade, it cannot be charged on those who are out of it. but the grievance has now become too general to be remedied by partial methods, and the only effectual cure is to reduce the quantity of money: with half the quantity we should be richer than we are now, because the value of it would be doubled, and consequently our attachment to it increased; for it is not the number of dollars that a man has, but how far they will go, that makes him either rich or poor. these two points being admitted, viz. that the quantity of money is too great, and that the prices of goods can only be effectually reduced by, reducing the quantity of the money, the next point to be considered is, the method how to reduce it. the circumstances of the times, as before observed, require that the public characters of all men should now be fully understood, and the only general method of ascertaining it is by an oath or affirmation, renouncing all allegiance to the king of great britain, and to support the independence of the united states, as declared by congress. let, at the same time, a tax of ten, fifteen, or twenty per cent. per annum, to be collected quarterly, be levied on all property. these alternatives, by being perfectly voluntary, will take in all sorts of people. here is the test; here is the tax. he who takes the former, conscientiously proves his affection to the cause, and binds himself to pay his quota by the best services in his power, and is thereby justly exempt from the latter; and those who choose the latter, pay their quota in money, to be excused from the former, or rather, it is the price paid to us for their supposed, though mistaken, insurance with the enemy. but this is only a part of the advantage which would arise by knowing the different characters of men. the whigs stake everything on the issue of their arms, while the tories, by their disaffection, are sapping and undermining their strength; and, of consequence, the property of the whigs is the more exposed thereby; and whatever injury their estates may sustain by the movements of the enemy, must either be borne by themselves, who have done everything which has yet been done, or by the tories, who have not only done nothing, but have, by their disaffection, invited the enemy on. in the present crisis we ought to know, square by square and house by house, who are in real allegiance with the united independent states, and who are not. let but the line be made clear and distinct, and all men will then know what they are to trust to. it would not only be good policy but strict justice, to raise fifty or one hundred thousand pounds, or more, if it is necessary, out of the estates and property of the king of england's votaries, resident in philadelphia, to be distributed, as a reward to those inhabitants of the city and state, who should turn out and repulse the enemy, should they attempt to march this way; and likewise, to bind the property of all such persons to make good the damages which that of the whigs might sustain. in the undistinguishable mode of conducting a war, we frequently make reprisals at sea, on the vessels of persons in england, who are friends to our cause compared with the resident tories among us. in every former publication of mine, from common sense down to the last crisis, i have generally gone on the charitable supposition, that the tories were rather a mistaken than a criminal people, and have applied argument after argument, with all the candor and temper which i was capable of, in order to set every part of the case clearly and fairly before them, and if possible to reclaim them from ruin to reason. i have done my duty by them and have now done with that doctrine, taking it for granted, that those who yet hold their disaffection are either a set of avaricious miscreants, who would sacrifice the continent to save themselves, or a banditti of hungry traitors, who are hoping for a division of the spoil. to which may be added, a list of crown or proprietary dependants, who, rather than go without a portion of power, would be content to share it with the devil. of such men there is no hope; and their obedience will only be according to the danger set before them, and the power that is exercised over them. a time will shortly arrive, in which, by ascertaining the characters of persons now, we shall be guarded against their mischiefs then; for in proportion as the enemy despair of conquest, they will be trying the arts of seduction and the force of fear by all the mischiefs which they can inflict. but in war we may be certain of these two things, viz. that cruelty in an enemy, and motions made with more than usual parade, are always signs of weakness. he that can conquer, finds his mind too free and pleasant to be brutish; and he that intends to conquer, never makes too much show of his strength. we now know the enemy we have to do with. while drunk with the certainty of victory, they disdained to be civil; and in proportion as disappointment makes them sober, and their apprehensions of an european war alarm them, they will become cringing and artful; honest they cannot be. but our answer to them, in either condition they may be in, is short and full--"as free and independent states we are willing to make peace with you to-morrow, but we neither can hear nor reply in any other character." if britain cannot conquer us, it proves that she is neither able to govern nor protect us, and our particular situation now is such, that any connection with her would be unwisely exchanging a half-defeated enemy for two powerful ones. europe, by every appearance, is now on the eve, nay, on the morning twilight of a war, and any alliance with george the third brings france and spain upon our backs; a separation from him attaches them to our side; therefore, the only road to peace, honor and commerce is independence. written this fourth year of the union, which god preserve. common sense. philadelphia, april , . the crisis iv. (those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom) those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom, must, like men, undergo the fatigues of supporting it. the event of yesterday was one of those kind of alarms which is just sufficient to rouse us to duty, without being of consequence enough to depress our fortitude. it is not a field of a few acres of ground, but a cause, that we are defending, and whether we defeat the enemy in one battle, or by degrees, the consequences will be the same. look back at the events of last winter and the present year, there you will find that the enemy's successes always contributed to reduce them. what they have gained in ground, they paid so dearly for in numbers, that their victories have in the end amounted to defeats. we have always been masters at the last push, and always shall be while we do our duty. howe has been once on the banks of the delaware, and from thence driven back with loss and disgrace: and why not be again driven from the schuylkill? his condition and ours are very different. he has everybody to fight, we have only his one army to cope with, and which wastes away at every engagement: we can not only reinforce, but can redouble our numbers; he is cut off from all supplies, and must sooner or later inevitably fall into our hands. shall a band of ten or twelve thousand robbers, who are this day fifteen hundred or two thousand men less in strength than they were yesterday, conquer america, or subdue even a single state? the thing cannot be, unless we sit down and suffer them to do it. another such a brush, notwithstanding we lost the ground, would, by still reducing the enemy, put them in a condition to be afterwards totally defeated. could our whole army have come up to the attack at one time, the consequences had probably been otherwise; but our having different parts of the brandywine creek to guard, and the uncertainty which road to philadelphia the enemy would attempt to take, naturally afforded them an opportunity of passing with their main body at a place where only a part of ours could be posted; for it must strike every thinking man with conviction, that it requires a much greater force to oppose an enemy in several places, than is sufficient to defeat him in any one place. men who are sincere in defending their freedom, will always feel concern at every circumstance which seems to make against them; it is the natural and honest consequence of all affectionate attachments, and the want of it is a vice. but the dejection lasts only for a moment; they soon rise out of it with additional vigor; the glow of hope, courage and fortitude, will, in a little time, supply the place of every inferior passion, and kindle the whole heart into heroism. there is a mystery in the countenance of some causes, which we have not always present judgment enough to explain. it is distressing to see an enemy advancing into a country, but it is the only place in which we can beat them, and in which we have always beaten them, whenever they made the attempt. the nearer any disease approaches to a crisis, the nearer it is to a cure. danger and deliverance make their advances together, and it is only the last push, in which one or the other takes the lead. there are many men who will do their duty when it is not wanted; but a genuine public spirit always appears most when there is most occasion for it. thank god! our army, though fatigued, is yet entire. the attack made by us yesterday, was under many disadvantages, naturally arising from the uncertainty of knowing which route the enemy would take; and, from that circumstance, the whole of our force could not be brought up together time enough to engage all at once. our strength is yet reserved; and it is evident that howe does not think himself a gainer by the affair, otherwise he would this morning have moved down and attacked general washington. gentlemen of the city and country, it is in your power, by a spirited improvement of the present circumstance, to turn it to a real advantage. howe is now weaker than before, and every shot will contribute to reduce him. you are more immediately interested than any other part of the continent: your all is at stake; it is not so with the general cause; you are devoted by the enemy to plunder and destruction: it is the encouragement which howe, the chief of plunderers, has promised his army. thus circumstanced, you may save yourselves by a manly resistance, but you can have no hope in any other conduct. i never yet knew our brave general, or any part of the army, officers or men, out of heart, and i have seen them in circumstances a thousand times more trying than the present. it is only those that are not in action, that feel languor and heaviness, and the best way to rub it off is to turn out, and make sure work of it. our army must undoubtedly feel fatigue, and want a reinforcement of rest though not of valor. our own interest and happiness call upon us to give them every support in our power, and make the burden of the day, on which the safety of this city depends, as light as possible. remember, gentlemen, that we have forces both to the northward and southward of philadelphia, and if the enemy be but stopped till those can arrive, this city will be saved, and the enemy finally routed. you have too much at stake to hesitate. you ought not to think an hour upon the matter, but to spring to action at once. other states have been invaded, have likewise driven off the invaders. now our time and turn is come, and perhaps the finishing stroke is reserved for us. when we look back on the dangers we have been saved from, and reflect on the success we have been blessed with, it would be sinful either to be idle or to despair. i close this paper with a short address to general howe. you, sir, are only lingering out the period that shall bring with it your defeat. you have yet scarce began upon the war, and the further you enter, the faster will your troubles thicken. what you now enjoy is only a respite from ruin; an invitation to destruction; something that will lead on to our deliverance at your expense. we know the cause which we are engaged in, and though a passionate fondness for it may make us grieve at every injury which threatens it, yet, when the moment of concern is over, the determination to duty returns. we are not moved by the gloomy smile of a worthless king, but by the ardent glow of generous patriotism. we fight not to enslave, but to set a country free, and to make room upon the earth for honest men to live in. in such a case we are sure that we are right; and we leave to you the despairing reflection of being the tool of a miserable tyrant. common sense. philadelphia, sept. , . the crisis. v. to gen. sir william howe. to argue with a man who has renounced the use and authority of reason, and whose philosophy consists in holding humanity in contempt, is like administering medicine to the dead, or endeavoring to convert an atheist by scripture. enjoy, sir, your insensibility of feeling and reflecting. it is the prerogative of animals. and no man will envy you these honors, in which a savage only can be your rival and a bear your master. as the generosity of this country rewarded your brother's services in the last war, with an elegant monument in westminster abbey, it is consistent that she should bestow some mark of distinction upon you. you certainly deserve her notice, and a conspicuous place in the catalogue of extraordinary persons. yet it would be a pity to pass you from the world in state, and consign you to magnificent oblivion among the tombs, without telling the future beholder why. judas is as much known as john, yet history ascribes their fame to very different actions. sir william has undoubtedly merited a monument; but of what kind, or with what inscription, where placed or how embellished, is a question that would puzzle all the heralds of st. james's in the profoundest mood of historical deliberation. we are at no loss, sir, to ascertain your real character, but somewhat perplexed how to perpetuate its identity, and preserve it uninjured from the transformations of time or mistake. a statuary may give a false expression to your bust, or decorate it with some equivocal emblems, by which you may happen to steal into reputation and impose upon the hereafter traditionary world. ill nature or ridicule may conspire, or a variety of accidents combine to lessen, enlarge, or change sir william's fame; and no doubt but he who has taken so much pains to be singular in his conduct, would choose to be just as singular in his exit, his monument and his epitaph. the usual honors of the dead, to be sure, are not sufficiently sublime to escort a character like you to the republic of dust and ashes; for however men may differ in their ideas of grandeur or of government here, the grave is nevertheless a perfect republic. death is not the monarch of the dead, but of the dying. the moment he obtains a conquest he loses a subject, and, like the foolish king you serve, will, in the end, war himself out of all his dominions. as a proper preliminary towards the arrangement of your funeral honors, we readily admit of your new rank of knighthood. the title is perfectly in character, and is your own, more by merit than creation. there are knights of various orders, from the knight of the windmill to the knight of the post. the former is your patron for exploits, and the latter will assist you in settling your accounts. no honorary title could be more happily applied! the ingenuity is sublime! and your royal master has discovered more genius in fitting you therewith, than in generating the most finished figure for a button, or descanting on the properties of a button mould. but how, sir, shall we dispose of you? the invention of a statuary is exhausted, and sir william is yet unprovided with a monument. america is anxious to bestow her funeral favors upon you, and wishes to do it in a manner that shall distinguish you from all the deceased heroes of the last war. the egyptian method of embalming is not known to the present age, and hieroglyphical pageantry hath outlived the science of deciphering it. some other method, therefore, must be thought of to immortalize the new knight of the windmill and post. sir william, thanks to his stars, is not oppressed with very delicate ideas. he has no ambition of being wrapped up and handed about in myrrh, aloes and cassia. less expensive odors will suffice; and it fortunately happens that the simple genius of america has discovered the art of preserving bodies, and embellishing them too, with much greater frugality than the ancients. in balmage, sir, of humble tar, you will be as secure as pharaoh, and in a hieroglyphic of feathers, rival in finery all the mummies of egypt. as you have already made your exit from the moral world, and by numberless acts both of passionate and deliberate injustice engraved an "here lieth" on your deceased honor, it must be mere affectation in you to pretend concern at the humors or opinions of mankind respecting you. what remains of you may expire at any time. the sooner the better. for he who survives his reputation, lives out of despite of himself, like a man listening to his own reproach. thus entombed and ornamented, i leave you to the inspection of the curious, and return to the history of your yet surviving actions. the character of sir william has undergone some extraordinary revolutions. since his arrival in america. it is now fixed and known; and we have nothing to hope from your candor or to fear from your capacity. indolence and inability have too large a share in your composition, ever to suffer you to be anything more than the hero of little villainies and unfinished adventures. that, which to some persons appeared moderation in you at first, was not produced by any real virtue of your own, but by a contrast of passions, dividing and holding you in perpetual irresolution. one vice will frequently expel another, without the least merit in the man; as powers in contrary directions reduce each other to rest. it became you to have supported a dignified solemnity of character; to have shown a superior liberality of soul; to have won respect by an obstinate perseverance in maintaining order, and to have exhibited on all occasions such an unchangeable graciousness of conduct, that while we beheld in you the resolution of an enemy, we might admire in you the sincerity of a man. you came to america under the high sounding titles of commander and commissioner; not only to suppress what you call rebellion, by arms, but to shame it out of countenance by the excellence of your example. instead of which, you have been the patron of low and vulgar frauds, the encourager of indian cruelties; and have imported a cargo of vices blacker than those which you pretend to suppress. mankind are not universally agreed in their determination of right and wrong; but there are certain actions which the consent of all nations and individuals has branded with the unchangeable name of meanness. in the list of human vices we find some of such a refined constitution, they cannot be carried into practice without seducing some virtue to their assistance; but meanness has neither alliance nor apology. it is generated in the dust and sweepings of other vices, and is of such a hateful figure that all the rest conspire to disown it. sir william, the commissioner of george the third, has at last vouchsafed to give it rank and pedigree. he has placed the fugitive at the council board, and dubbed it companion of the order of knighthood. the particular act of meanness which i allude to in this description, is forgery. you, sir, have abetted and patronized the forging and uttering counterfeit continental bills. in the same new york newspapers in which your own proclamation under your master's authority was published, offering, or pretending to offer, pardon and protection to these states, there were repeated advertisements of counterfeit money for sale, and persons who have come officially from you, and under the sanction of your flag, have been taken up in attempting to put them off. a conduct so basely mean in a public character is without precedent or pretence. every nation on earth, whether friends or enemies, will unite in despising you. 'tis an incendiary war upon society, which nothing can excuse or palliate,--an improvement upon beggarly villany--and shows an inbred wretchedness of heart made up between the venomous malignity of a serpent and the spiteful imbecility of an inferior reptile. the laws of any civilized country would condemn you to the gibbet without regard to your rank or titles, because it is an action foreign to the usage and custom of war; and should you fall into our hands, which pray god you may, it will be a doubtful matter whether we are to consider you as a military prisoner or a prisoner for felony. besides, it is exceedingly unwise and impolitic in you, or any other persons in the english service, to promote or even encourage, or wink at the crime of forgery, in any case whatever. because, as the riches of england, as a nation, are chiefly in paper, and the far greater part of trade among individuals is carried on by the same medium, that is, by notes and drafts on one another, they, therefore, of all people in the world, ought to endeavor to keep forgery out of sight, and, if possible, not to revive the idea of it. it is dangerous to make men familiar with a crime which they may afterwards practise to much greater advantage against those who first taught them. several officers in the english army have made their exit at the gallows for forgery on their agents; for we all know, who know any thing of england, that there is not a more necessitous body of men, taking them generally, than what the english officers are. they contrive to make a show at the expense of the tailors, and appear clean at the charge of the washer-women. england, has at this time, nearly two hundred million pounds sterling of public money in paper, for which she has no real property: besides a large circulation of bank notes, bank post bills, and promissory notes and drafts of private bankers, merchants and tradesmen. she has the greatest quantity of paper currency and the least quantity of gold and silver of any nation in europe; the real specie, which is about sixteen millions sterling, serves only as change in large sums, which are always made in paper, or for payment in small ones. thus circumstanced, the nation is put to its wit's end, and obliged to be severe almost to criminality, to prevent the practice and growth of forgery. scarcely a session passes at the old bailey, or an execution at tyburn, but witnesses this truth, yet you, sir, regardless of the policy which her necessity obliges her to adopt, have made your whole army intimate with the crime. and as all armies at the conclusion of a war, are too apt to carry into practice the vices of the campaign, it will probably happen, that england will hereafter abound in forgeries, to which art the practitioners were first initiated under your authority in america. you, sir, have the honor of adding a new vice to the military catalogue; and the reason, perhaps, why the invention was reserved for you, is, because no general before was mean enough even to think of it. that a man whose soul is absorbed in the low traffic of vulgar vice, is incapable of moving in any superior region, is clearly shown in you by the event of every campaign. your military exploits have been without plan, object or decision. can it be possible that you or your employers suppose that the possession of philadelphia will be any ways equal to the expense or expectation of the nation which supports you? what advantages does england derive from any achievements of yours? to her it is perfectly indifferent what place you are in, so long as the business of conquest is unperformed and the charge of maintaining you remains the same. if the principal events of the three campaigns be attended to, the balance will appear against you at the close of each; but the last, in point of importance to us, has exceeded the former two. it is pleasant to look back on dangers past, and equally as pleasant to meditate on present ones when the way out begins to appear. that period is now arrived, and the long doubtful winter of war is changing to the sweeter prospects of victory and joy. at the close of the campaign, in , you were obliged to retreat from boston. in the summer of , you appeared with a numerous fleet and army in the harbor of new york. by what miracle the continent was preserved in that season of danger is a subject of admiration! if instead of wasting your time against long island you had run up the north river, and landed any where above new york, the consequence must have been, that either you would have compelled general washington to fight you with very unequal numbers, or he must have suddenly evacuated the city with the loss of nearly all the stores of his army, or have surrendered for want of provisions; the situation of the place naturally producing one or the other of these events. the preparations made to defend new york were, nevertheless, wise and military; because your forces were then at sea, their numbers uncertain; storms, sickness, or a variety of accidents might have disabled their coming, or so diminished them on their passage, that those which survived would have been incapable of opening the campaign with any prospect of success; in which case the defence would have been sufficient and the place preserved; for cities that have been raised from nothing with an infinitude of labor and expense, are not to be thrown away on the bare probability of their being taken. on these grounds the preparations made to maintain new york were as judicious as the retreat afterwards. while you, in the interim, let slip the very opportunity which seemed to put conquest in your power. through the whole of that campaign you had nearly double the forces which general washington immediately commanded. the principal plan at that time, on our part, was to wear away the season with as little loss as possible, and to raise the army for the next year. long island, new york, forts washington and lee were not defended after your superior force was known under any expectation of their being finally maintained, but as a range of outworks, in the attacking of which your time might be wasted, your numbers reduced, and your vanity amused by possessing them on our retreat. it was intended to have withdrawn the garrison from fort washington after it had answered the former of those purposes, but the fate of that day put a prize into your hands without much honor to yourselves. your progress through the jerseys was accidental; you had it not even in contemplation, or you would not have sent a principal part of your forces to rhode island beforehand. the utmost hope of america in the year , reached no higher than that she might not then be conquered. she had no expectation of defeating you in that campaign. even the most cowardly tory allowed, that, could she withstand the shock of that summer, her independence would be past a doubt. you had then greatly the advantage of her. you were formidable. your military knowledge was supposed to be complete. your fleets and forces arrived without an accident. you had neither experience nor reinforcements to wait for. you had nothing to do but to begin, and your chance lay in the first vigorous onset. america was young and unskilled. she was obliged to trust her defence to time and practice; and has, by mere dint of perseverance, maintained her cause, and brought the enemy to a condition, in which she is now capable of meeting him on any grounds. it is remarkable that in the campaign of you gained no more, notwithstanding your great force, than what was given you by consent of evacuation, except fort washington; while every advantage obtained by us was by fair and hard fighting. the defeat of sir peter parker was complete. the conquest of the hessians at trenton, by the remains of a retreating army, which but a few days before you affected to despise, is an instance of their heroic perseverance very seldom to be met with. and the victory over the british troops at princeton, by a harassed and wearied party, who had been engaged the day before and marched all night without refreshment, is attended with such a scene of circumstances and superiority of generalship, as will ever give it a place in the first rank in the history of great actions. when i look back on the gloomy days of last winter, and see america suspended by a thread, i feel a triumph of joy at the recollection of her delivery, and a reverence for the characters which snatched her from destruction. to doubt now would be a species of infidelity, and to forget the instruments which saved us then would be ingratitude. the close of that campaign left us with the spirit of conquerors. the northern districts were relieved by the retreat of general carleton over the lakes. the army under your command were hunted back and had their bounds prescribed. the continent began to feel its military importance, and the winter passed pleasantly away in preparations for the next campaign. however confident you might be on your first arrival, the result of the year gave you some idea of the difficulty, if not impossibility of conquest. to this reason i ascribe your delay in opening the campaign of . the face of matters, on the close of the former year, gave you no encouragement to pursue a discretionary war as soon as the spring admitted the taking the field; for though conquest, in that case, would have given you a double portion of fame, yet the experiment was too hazardous. the ministry, had you failed, would have shifted the whole blame upon you, charged you with having acted without orders, and condemned at once both your plan and execution. to avoid the misfortunes, which might have involved you and your money accounts in perplexity and suspicion, you prudently waited the arrival of a plan of operations from england, which was that you should proceed for philadelphia by way of the chesapeake, and that burgoyne, after reducing ticonderoga, should take his route by albany, and, if necessary, join you. the splendid laurels of the last campaign have flourished in the north. in that quarter america has surprised the world, and laid the foundation of this year's glory. the conquest of ticonderoga, (if it may be called a conquest) has, like all your other victories, led on to ruin. even the provisions taken in that fortress (which by general burgoyne's return was sufficient in bread and flour for nearly men for ten weeks, and in beef and pork for the same number of men for one month) served only to hasten his overthrow, by enabling him to proceed to saratoga, the place of his destruction. a short review of the operations of the last campaign will show the condition of affairs on both sides. you have taken ticonderoga and marched into philadelphia. these are all the events which the year has produced on your part. a trifling campaign indeed, compared with the expenses of england and the conquest of the continent. on the other side, a considerable part of your northern force has been routed by the new york militia under general herkemer. fort stanwix has bravely survived a compound attack of soldiers and savages, and the besiegers have fled. the battle of bennington has put a thousand prisoners into our hands, with all their arms, stores, artillery and baggage. general burgoyne, in two engagements, has been defeated; himself, his army, and all that were his and theirs are now ours. ticonderoga and independence [forts] are retaken, and not the shadow of an enemy remains in all the northern districts. at this instant we have upwards of eleven thousand prisoners, between sixty and seventy [captured] pieces of brass ordnance, besides small arms, tents, stores, etc. in order to know the real value of those advantages, we must reverse the scene, and suppose general gates and the force he commanded to be at your mercy as prisoners, and general burgoyne, with his army of soldiers and savages, to be already joined to you in pennsylvania. so dismal a picture can scarcely be looked at. it has all the tracings and colorings of horror and despair; and excites the most swelling emotions of gratitude by exhibiting the miseries we are so graciously preserved from. i admire the distribution of laurels around the continent. it is the earnest of future union. south carolina has had her day of sufferings and of fame; and the other southern states have exerted themselves in proportion to the force that invaded or insulted them. towards the close of the campaign, in , these middle states were called upon and did their duty nobly. they were witnesses to the almost expiring flame of human freedom. it was the close struggle of life and death, the line of invisible division; and on which the unabated fortitude of a washington prevailed, and saved the spark that has since blazed in the north with unrivalled lustre. let me ask, sir, what great exploits have you performed? through all the variety of changes and opportunities which the war has produced, i know no one action of yours that can be styled masterly. you have moved in and out, backward and forward, round and round, as if valor consisted in a military jig. the history and figure of your movements would be truly ridiculous could they be justly delineated. they resemble the labors of a puppy pursuing his tail; the end is still at the same distance, and all the turnings round must be done over again. the first appearance of affairs at ticonderoga wore such an unpromising aspect, that it was necessary, in july, to detach a part of the forces to the support of that quarter, which were otherwise destined or intended to act against you; and this, perhaps, has been the means of postponing your downfall to another campaign. the destruction of one army at a time is work enough. we know, sir, what we are about, what we have to do, and how to do it. your progress from the chesapeake, was marked by no capital stroke of policy or heroism. your principal aim was to get general washington between the delaware and schuylkill, and between philadelphia and your army. in that situation, with a river on each of his flanks, which united about five miles below the city, and your army above him, you could have intercepted his reinforcements and supplies, cut off all his communication with the country, and, if necessary, have despatched assistance to open a passage for general burgoyne. this scheme was too visible to succeed: for had general washington suffered you to command the open country above him, i think it a very reasonable conjecture that the conquest of burgoyne would not have taken place, because you could, in that case, have relieved him. it was therefore necessary, while that important victory was in suspense, to trepan you into a situation in which you could only be on the defensive, without the power of affording him assistance. the manoeuvre had its effect, and burgoyne was conquered. there has been something unmilitary and passive in you from the time of your passing the schuylkill and getting possession of philadelphia, to the close of the campaign. you mistook a trap for a conquest, the probability of which had been made known to europe, and the edge of your triumph taken off by our own information long before. having got you into this situation, a scheme for a general attack upon you at germantown was carried into execution on the th of october, and though the success was not equal to the excellence of the plan, yet the attempting it proved the genius of america to be on the rise, and her power approaching to superiority. the obscurity of the morning was your best friend, for a fog is always favorable to a hunted enemy. some weeks after this you likewise planned an attack on general washington while at whitemarsh. you marched out with infinite parade, but on finding him preparing to attack you next morning, you prudently turned about, and retreated to philadelphia with all the precipitation of a man conquered in imagination. immediately after the battle of germantown, the probability of burgoyne's defeat gave a new policy to affairs in pennsylvania, and it was judged most consistent with the general safety of america, to wait the issue of the northern campaign. slow and sure is sound work. the news of that victory arrived in our camp on the th of october, and no sooner did that shout of joy, and the report of the thirteen cannon reach your ears, than you resolved upon a retreat, and the next day, that is, on the th, you withdrew your drooping army into philadelphia. this movement was evidently dictated by fear; and carried with it a positive confession that you dreaded a second attack. it was hiding yourself among women and children, and sleeping away the choicest part of the campaign in expensive inactivity. an army in a city can never be a conquering army. the situation admits only of defence. it is mere shelter: and every military power in europe will conclude you to be eventually defeated. the time when you made this retreat was the very time you ought to have fought a battle, in order to put yourself in condition of recovering in pennsylvania what you had lost in saratoga. and the reason why you did not, must be either prudence or cowardice; the former supposes your inability, and the latter needs no explanation. i draw no conclusions, sir, but such as are naturally deduced from known and visible facts, and such as will always have a being while the facts which produced them remain unaltered. after this retreat a new difficulty arose which exhibited the power of britain in a very contemptible light; which was the attack and defence of mud island. for several weeks did that little unfinished fortress stand out against all the attempts of admiral and general howe. it was the fable of bender realized on the delaware. scheme after scheme, and force upon force were tried and defeated. the garrison, with scarce anything to cover them but their bravery, survived in the midst of mud, shot and shells, and were at last obliged to give it up more to the powers of time and gunpowder than to military superiority of the besiegers. it is my sincere opinion that matters are in much worse condition with you than what is generally known. your master's speech at the opening of parliament, is like a soliloquy on ill luck. it shows him to be coming a little to his reason, for sense of pain is the first symptom of recovery, in profound stupefaction. his condition is deplorable. he is obliged to submit to all the insults of france and spain, without daring to know or resent them; and thankful for the most trivial evasions to the most humble remonstrances. the time was when he could not deign an answer to a petition from america, and the time now is when he dare not give an answer to an affront from france. the capture of burgoyne's army will sink his consequence as much in europe as in america. in his speech he expresses his suspicions at the warlike preparations of france and spain, and as he has only the one army which you command to support his character in the world with, it remains very uncertain when, or in what quarter it will be most wanted, or can be best employed; and this will partly account for the great care you take to keep it from action and attacks, for should burgoyne's fate be yours, which it probably will, england may take her endless farewell not only of all america but of all the west indies. never did a nation invite destruction upon itself with the eagerness and the ignorance with which britain has done. bent upon the ruin of a young and unoffending country, she has drawn the sword that has wounded herself to the heart, and in the agony of her resentment has applied a poison for a cure. her conduct towards america is a compound of rage and lunacy; she aims at the government of it, yet preserves neither dignity nor character in her methods to obtain it. were government a mere manufacture or article of commerce, immaterial by whom it should be made or sold, we might as well employ her as another, but when we consider it as the fountain from whence the general manners and morality of a country take their rise, that the persons entrusted with the execution thereof are by their serious example an authority to support these principles, how abominably absurd is the idea of being hereafter governed by a set of men who have been guilty of forgery, perjury, treachery, theft and every species of villany which the lowest wretches on earth could practise or invent. what greater public curse can befall any country than to be under such authority, and what greater blessing than to be delivered therefrom. the soul of any man of sentiment would rise in brave rebellion against them, and spurn them from the earth. the malignant and venomous tempered general vaughan has amused his savage fancy in burning the whole town of kingston, in york government, and the late governor of that state, mr. tryon, in his letter to general parsons, has endeavored to justify it and declared his wish to burn the houses of every committeeman in the country. such a confession from one who was once intrusted with the powers of civil government, is a reproach to the character. but it is the wish and the declaration of a man whom anguish and disappointment have driven to despair, and who is daily decaying into the grave with constitutional rottenness. there is not in the compass of language a sufficiency of words to express the baseness of your king, his ministry and his army. they have refined upon villany till it wants a name. to the fiercer vices of former ages they have added the dregs and scummings of the most finished rascality, and are so completely sunk in serpentine deceit, that there is not left among them one generous enemy. from such men and such masters, may the gracious hand of heaven preserve america! and though the sufferings she now endures are heavy, and severe, they are like straws in the wind compared to the weight of evils she would feel under the government of your king, and his pensioned parliament. there is something in meanness which excites a species of resentment that never subsides, and something in cruelty which stirs up the heart to the highest agony of human hatred; britain has filled up both these characters till no addition can be made, and has not reputation left with us to obtain credit for the slightest promise. the will of god has parted us, and the deed is registered for eternity. when she shall be a spot scarcely visible among the nations, america shall flourish the favorite of heaven, and the friend of mankind. for the domestic happiness of britain and the peace of the world, i wish she had not a foot of land but what is circumscribed within her own island. extent of dominion has been her ruin, and instead of civilizing others has brutalized herself. her late reduction of india, under clive and his successors, was not so properly a conquest as an extermination of mankind. she is the only power who could practise the prodigal barbarity of tying men to mouths of loaded cannon and blowing them away. it happens that general burgoyne, who made the report of that horrid transaction, in the house of commons, is now a prisoner with us, and though an enemy, i can appeal to him for the truth of it, being confident that he neither can nor will deny it. yet clive received the approbation of the last parliament. when we take a survey of mankind, we cannot help cursing the wretch, who, to the unavoidable misfortunes of nature, shall wilfully add the calamities of war. one would think there were evils enough in the world without studying to increase them, and that life is sufficiently short without shaking the sand that measures it. the histories of alexander, and charles of sweden, are the histories of human devils; a good man cannot think of their actions without abhorrence, nor of their deaths without rejoicing. to see the bounties of heaven destroyed, the beautiful face of nature laid waste, and the choicest works of creation and art tumbled into ruin, would fetch a curse from the soul of piety itself. but in this country the aggravation is heightened by a new combination of affecting circumstances. america was young, and, compared with other countries, was virtuous. none but a herod of uncommon malice would have made war upon infancy and innocence: and none but a people of the most finished fortitude, dared under those circumstances, have resisted the tyranny. the natives, or their ancestors, had fled from the former oppressions of england, and with the industry of bees had changed a wilderness into a habitable world. to britain they were indebted for nothing. the country was the gift of heaven, and god alone is their lord and sovereign. the time, sir, will come when you, in a melancholy hour, shall reckon up your miseries by your murders in america. life, with you, begins to wear a clouded aspect. the vision of pleasurable delusion is wearing away, and changing to the barren wild of age and sorrow. the poor reflection of having served your king will yield you no consolation in your parting moments. he will crumble to the same undistinguished ashes with yourself, and have sins enough of his own to answer for. it is not the farcical benedictions of a bishop, nor the cringing hypocrisy of a court of chaplains, nor the formality of an act of parliament, that can change guilt into innocence, or make the punishment one pang the less. you may, perhaps, be unwilling to be serious, but this destruction of the goods of providence, this havoc of the human race, and this sowing the world with mischief, must be accounted for to him who made and governs it. to us they are only present sufferings, but to him they are deep rebellions. if there is a sin superior to every other, it is that of wilful and offensive war. most other sins are circumscribed within narrow limits, that is, the power of one man cannot give them a very general extension, and many kinds of sins have only a mental existence from which no infection arises; but he who is the author of a war, lets loose the whole contagion of hell, and opens a vein that bleeds a nation to death. we leave it to england and indians to boast of these honors; we feel no thirst for such savage glory; a nobler flame, a purer spirit animates america. she has taken up the sword of virtuous defence; she has bravely put herself between tyranny and freedom, between a curse and a blessing, determined to expel the one and protect the other. it is the object only of war that makes it honorable. and if there was ever a just war since the world began, it is this in which america is now engaged. she invaded no land of yours. she hired no mercenaries to burn your towns, nor indians to massacre their inhabitants. she wanted nothing from you, and was indebted for nothing to you: and thus circumstanced, her defence is honorable and her prosperity is certain. yet it is not on the justice only, but likewise on the importance of this cause that i ground my seeming enthusiastical confidence of our success. the vast extension of america makes her of too much value in the scale of providence, to be cast like a pearl before swine, at the feet of an european island; and of much less consequence would it be that britain were sunk in the sea than that america should miscarry. there has been such a chain of extraordinary events in the discovery of this country at first, in the peopling and planting it afterwards, in the rearing and nursing it to its present state, and in the protection of it through the present war, that no man can doubt, but providence has some nobler end to accomplish than the gratification of the petty elector of hanover, or the ignorant and insignificant king of britain. as the blood of the martyrs has been the seed of the christian church, so the political persecutions of england will and have already enriched america with industry, experience, union, and importance. before the present era she was a mere chaos of uncemented colonies, individually exposed to the ravages of the indians and the invasion of any power that britain should be at war with. she had nothing that she could call her own. her felicity depended upon accident. the convulsions of europe might have thrown her from one conqueror to another, till she had been the slave of all, and ruined by every one; for until she had spirit enough to become her own master, there was no knowing to which master she should belong. that period, thank god, is past, and she is no longer the dependent, disunited colonies of britain, but the independent and united states of america, knowing no master but heaven and herself. you, or your king, may call this "delusion," "rebellion," or what name you please. to us it is perfectly indifferent. the issue will determine the character, and time will give it a name as lasting as his own. you have now, sir, tried the fate of three campaigns, and can fully declare to england, that nothing is to be got on your part, but blows and broken bones, and nothing on hers but waste of trade and credit, and an increase of poverty and taxes. you are now only where you might have been two years ago, without the loss of a single ship, and yet not a step more forward towards the conquest of the continent; because, as i have already hinted, "an army in a city can never be a conquering army." the full amount of your losses, since the beginning of the war, exceeds twenty thousand men, besides millions of treasure, for which you have nothing in exchange. our expenses, though great, are circulated within ourselves. yours is a direct sinking of money, and that from both ends at once; first, in hiring troops out of the nation, and in paying them afterwards, because the money in neither case can return to britain. we are already in possession of the prize, you only in pursuit of it. to us it is a real treasure, to you it would be only an empty triumph. our expenses will repay themselves with tenfold interest, while yours entail upon you everlasting poverty. take a review, sir, of the ground which you have gone over, and let it teach you policy, if it cannot honesty. you stand but on a very tottering foundation. a change of the ministry in england may probably bring your measures into question, and your head to the block. clive, with all his successes, had some difficulty in escaping, and yours being all a war of losses, will afford you less pretensions, and your enemies more grounds for impeachment. go home, sir, and endeavor to save the remains of your ruined country, by a just representation of the madness of her measures. a few moments, well applied, may yet preserve her from political destruction. i am not one of those who wish to see europe in a flame, because i am persuaded that such an event will not shorten the war. the rupture, at present, is confined between the two powers of america and england. england finds that she cannot conquer america, and america has no wish to conquer england. you are fighting for what you can never obtain, and we defending what we never mean to part with. a few words, therefore, settle the bargain. let england mind her own business and we will mind ours. govern yourselves, and we will govern ourselves. you may then trade where you please unmolested by us, and we will trade where we please unmolested by you; and such articles as we can purchase of each other better than elsewhere may be mutually done. if it were possible that you could carry on the war for twenty years you must still come to this point at last, or worse, and the sooner you think of it the better it will be for you. my official situation enables me to know the repeated insults which britain is obliged to put up with from foreign powers, and the wretched shifts that she is driven to, to gloss them over. her reduced strength and exhausted coffers in a three years' war with america, has given a powerful superiority to france and spain. she is not now a match for them. but if neither councils can prevail on her to think, nor sufferings awaken her to reason, she must e'en go on, till the honor of england becomes a proverb of contempt, and europe dub her the land of fools. i am, sir, with every wish for an honorable peace, your friend, enemy, and countryman, common sense. to the inhabitants of america. with all the pleasure with which a man exchanges bad company for good, i take my leave of sir william and return to you. it is now nearly three years since the tyranny of britain received its first repulse by the arms of america. a period which has given birth to a new world, and erected a monument to the folly of the old. i cannot help being sometimes surprised at the complimentary references which i have seen and heard made to ancient histories and transactions. the wisdom, civil governments, and sense of honor of the states of greece and rome, are frequently held up as objects of excellence and imitation. mankind have lived to very little purpose, if, at this period of the world, they must go two or three thousand years back for lessons and examples. we do great injustice to ourselves by placing them in such a superior line. we have no just authority for it, neither can we tell why it is that we should suppose ourselves inferior. could the mist of antiquity be cleared away, and men and things be viewed as they really were, it is more than probable that they would admire us, rather than we them. america has surmounted a greater variety and combination of difficulties, than, i believe, ever fell to the share of any one people, in the same space of time, and has replenished the world with more useful knowledge and sounder maxims of civil government than were ever produced in any age before. had it not been for america, there had been no such thing as freedom left throughout the whole universe. england has lost hers in a long chain of right reasoning from wrong principles, and it is from this country, now, that she must learn the resolution to redress herself, and the wisdom how to accomplish it. the grecians and romans were strongly possessed of the spirit of liberty but not the principle, for at the time that they were determined not to be slaves themselves, they employed their power to enslave the rest of mankind. but this distinguished era is blotted by no one misanthropical vice. in short, if the principle on which the cause is founded, the universal blessings that are to arise from it, the difficulties that accompanied it, the wisdom with which it has been debated, the fortitude by which it has been supported, the strength of the power which we had to oppose, and the condition in which we undertook it, be all taken in one view, we may justly style it the most virtuous and illustrious revolution that ever graced the history of mankind. a good opinion of ourselves is exceedingly necessary in private life, but absolutely necessary in public life, and of the utmost importance in supporting national character. i have no notion of yielding the palm of the united states to any grecians or romans that were ever born. we have equalled the bravest in times of danger, and excelled the wisest in construction of civil governments. from this agreeable eminence let us take a review of present affairs. the spirit of corruption is so inseparably interwoven with british politics, that their ministry suppose all mankind are governed by the same motives. they have no idea of a people submitting even to temporary inconvenience from an attachment to rights and privileges. their plans of business are calculated by the hour and for the hour, and are uniform in nothing but the corruption which gives them birth. they never had, neither have they at this time, any regular plan for the conquest of america by arms. they know not how to go about it, neither have they power to effect it if they did know. the thing is not within the compass of human practicability, for america is too extensive either to be fully conquered or passively defended. but she may be actively defended by defeating or making prisoners of the army that invades her. and this is the only system of defence that can be effectual in a large country. there is something in a war carried on by invasion which makes it differ in circumstances from any other mode of war, because he who conducts it cannot tell whether the ground he gains be for him, or against him, when he first obtains it. in the winter of , general howe marched with an air of victory through the jerseys, the consequence of which was his defeat; and general burgoyne at saratoga experienced the same fate from the same cause. the spaniards, about two years ago, were defeated by the algerines in the same manner, that is, their first triumphs became a trap in which they were totally routed. and whoever will attend to the circumstances and events of a war carried on by invasion, will find, that any invader, in order to be finally conquered must first begin to conquer. i confess myself one of those who believe the loss of philadelphia to be attended with more advantages than injuries. the case stood thus: the enemy imagined philadelphia to be of more importance to us than it really was; for we all know that it had long ceased to be a port: not a cargo of goods had been brought into it for near a twelvemonth, nor any fixed manufactories, nor even ship-building, carried on in it; yet as the enemy believed the conquest of it to be practicable, and to that belief added the absurd idea that the soul of all america was centred there, and would be conquered there, it naturally follows that their possession of it, by not answering the end proposed, must break up the plans they had so foolishly gone upon, and either oblige them to form a new one, for which their present strength is not sufficient, or to give over the attempt. we never had so small an army to fight against, nor so fair an opportunity of final success as now. the death wound is already given. the day is ours if we follow it up. the enemy, by his situation, is within our reach, and by his reduced strength is within our power. the ministers of britain may rage as they please, but our part is to conquer their armies. let them wrangle and welcome, but let, it not draw our attention from the one thing needful. here, in this spot is our own business to be accomplished, our felicity secured. what we have now to do is as clear as light, and the way to do it is as straight as a line. it needs not to be commented upon, yet, in order to be perfectly understood i will put a case that cannot admit of a mistake. had the armies under generals howe and burgoyne been united, and taken post at germantown, and had the northern army under general gates been joined to that under general washington, at whitemarsh, the consequence would have been a general action; and if in that action we had killed and taken the same number of officers and men, that is, between nine and ten thousand, with the same quantity of artillery, arms, stores, etc., as have been taken at the northward, and obliged general howe with the remains of his army, that is, with the same number he now commands, to take shelter in philadelphia, we should certainly have thought ourselves the greatest heroes in the world; and should, as soon as the season permitted, have collected together all the force of the continent and laid siege to the city, for it requires a much greater force to besiege an enemy in a town than to defeat him in the field. the case now is just the same as if it had been produced by the means i have here supposed. between nine and ten thousand have been killed and taken, all their stores are in our possession, and general howe, in consequence of that victory, has thrown himself for shelter into philadelphia. he, or his trifling friend galloway, may form what pretences they please, yet no just reason can be given for their going into winter quarters so early as the th of october, but their apprehensions of a defeat if they continued out, or their conscious inability of keeping the field with safety. i see no advantage which can arise to america by hunting the enemy from state to state. it is a triumph without a prize, and wholly unworthy the attention of a people determined to conquer. neither can any state promise itself security while the enemy remains in a condition to transport themselves from one part of the continent to another. howe, likewise, cannot conquer where we have no army to oppose, therefore any such removals in him are mean and cowardly, and reduces britain to a common pilferer. if he retreats from philadelphia, he will be despised; if he stays, he may be shut up and starved out, and the country, if he advances into it, may become his saratoga. he has his choice of evils and we of opportunities. if he moves early, it is not only a sign but a proof that he expects no reinforcement, and his delay will prove that he either waits for the arrival of a plan to go upon, or force to execute it, or both; in which case our strength will increase more than his, therefore in any case we cannot be wrong if we do but proceed. the particular condition of pennsylvania deserves the attention of all the other states. her military strength must not be estimated by the number of inhabitants. here are men of all nations, characters, professions and interests. here are the firmest whigs, surviving, like sparks in the ocean, unquenched and uncooled in the midst of discouragement and disaffection. here are men losing their all with cheerfulness, and collecting fire and fortitude from the flames of their own estates. here are others skulking in secret, many making a market of the times, and numbers who are changing to whig or tory with the circumstances of every day. it is by a mere dint of fortitude and perseverance that the whigs of this state have been able to maintain so good a countenance, and do even what they have done. we want help, and the sooner it can arrive the more effectual it will be. the invaded state, be it which it may, will always feel an additional burden upon its back, and be hard set to support its civil power with sufficient authority; and this difficulty will rise or fall, in proportion as the other states throw in their assistance to the common cause. the enemy will most probably make many manoeuvres at the opening of this campaign, to amuse and draw off the attention of the several states from the one thing needful. we may expect to hear of alarms and pretended expeditions to this place and that place, to the southward, the eastward, and the northward, all intended to prevent our forming into one formidable body. the less the enemy's strength is, the more subtleties of this kind will they make use of. their existence depends upon it, because the force of america, when collected, is sufficient to swallow their present army up. it is therefore our business to make short work of it, by bending our whole attention to this one principal point, for the instant that the main body under general howe is defeated, all the inferior alarms throughout the continent, like so many shadows, will follow his downfall. the only way to finish a war with the least possible bloodshed, or perhaps without any, is to collect an army, against the power of which the enemy shall have no chance. by not doing this, we prolong the war, and double both the calamities and expenses of it. what a rich and happy country would america be, were she, by a vigorous exertion, to reduce howe as she has reduced burgoyne. her currency would rise to millions beyond its present value. every man would be rich, and every man would have it in his power to be happy. and why not do these things? what is there to hinder? america is her own mistress and can do what she pleases. if we had not at this time a man in the field, we could, nevertheless, raise an army in a few weeks sufficient to overwhelm all the force which general howe at present commands. vigor and determination will do anything and everything. we began the war with this kind of spirit, why not end it with the same? here, gentlemen, is the enemy. here is the army. the interest, the happiness of all america, is centred in this half ruined spot. come and help us. here are laurels, come and share them. here are tories, come and help us to expel them. here are whigs that will make you welcome, and enemies that dread your coming. the worst of all policies is that of doing things by halves. penny-wise and pound-foolish, has been the ruin of thousands. the present spring, if rightly improved, will free us from our troubles, and save us the expense of millions. we have now only one army to cope with. no opportunity can be fairer; no prospect more promising. i shall conclude this paper with a few outlines of a plan, either for filling up the battalions with expedition, or for raising an additional force, for any limited time, on any sudden emergency. that in which every man is interested, is every man's duty to support. and any burden which falls equally on all men, and from which every man is to receive an equal benefit, is consistent with the most perfect ideas of liberty. i would wish to revive something of that virtuous ambition which first called america into the field. then every man was eager to do his part, and perhaps the principal reason why we have in any degree fallen therefrom, is because we did not set a right value by it at first, but left it to blaze out of itself, instead of regulating and preserving it by just proportions of rest and service. suppose any state whose number of effective inhabitants was , , should be required to furnish , men towards the defence of the continent on any sudden emergency. st, let the whole number of effective inhabitants be divided into hundreds; then if each of those hundreds turn out four men, the whole number of , will be had. d, let the name of each hundred men be entered in a book, and let four dollars be collected from each man, with as much more as any of the gentlemen, whose abilities can afford it, shall please to throw in, which gifts likewise shall be entered against the names of the donors. d, let the sums so collected be offered as a present, over and above the bounty of twenty dollars, to any four who may be inclined to propose themselves as volunteers: if more than four offer, the majority of the subscribers present shall determine which; if none offer, then four out of the hundred shall be taken by lot, who shall be entitled to the said sums, and shall either go, or provide others that will, in the space of six days. th, as it will always happen that in the space of ground on which a hundred men shall live, there will be always a number of persons who, by age and infirmity, are incapable of doing personal service, and as such persons are generally possessed of the greatest part of property in any country, their portion of service, therefore, will be to furnish each man with a blanket, which will make a regimental coat, jacket, and breeches, or clothes in lieu thereof, and another for a watch cloak, and two pair of shoes; for however choice people may be of these things matters not in cases of this kind; those who live always in houses can find many ways to keep themselves warm, but it is a shame and a sin to suffer a soldier in the field to want a blanket while there is one in the country. should the clothing not be wanted, the superannuated or infirm persons possessing property, may, in lieu thereof, throw in their money subscriptions towards increasing the bounty; for though age will naturally exempt a person from personal service, it cannot exempt him from his share of the charge, because the men are raised for the defence of property and liberty jointly. there never was a scheme against which objections might not be raised. but this alone is not a sufficient reason for rejection. the only line to judge truly upon is to draw out and admit all the objections which can fairly be made, and place against them all the contrary qualities, conveniences and advantages, then by striking a balance you come at the true character of any scheme, principle or position. the most material advantages of the plan here proposed are, ease, expedition, and cheapness; yet the men so raised get a much larger bounty than is any where at present given; because all the expenses, extravagance, and consequent idleness of recruiting are saved or prevented. the country incurs no new debt nor interest thereon; the whole matter being all settled at once and entirely done with. it is a subscription answering all the purposes of a tax, without either the charge or trouble of collecting. the men are ready for the field with the greatest possible expedition, because it becomes the duty of the inhabitants themselves, in every part of the country, to find their proportion of men instead of leaving it to a recruiting sergeant, who, be he ever so industrious, cannot know always where to apply. i do not propose this as a regular digested plan, neither will the limits of this paper admit of any further remarks upon it. i believe it to be a hint capable of much improvement, and as such submit it to the public. common sense. lancaster, march , . the crisis vi. (to the earl of carlisle and general clinton) to the earl of carlisle, general clinton, and william eden, esq., british commissioners at new york. there is a dignity in the warm passions of a whig, which is never to be found in the cold malice of a tory. in the one nature is only heated--in the other she is poisoned. the instant the former has it in his power to punish, he feels a disposition to forgive; but the canine venom of the latter knows no relief but revenge. this general distinction will, i believe, apply in all cases, and suits as well the meridian of england as america. as i presume your last proclamation will undergo the strictures of other pens, i shall confine my remarks to only a few parts thereof. all that you have said might have been comprised in half the compass. it is tedious and unmeaning, and only a repetition of your former follies, with here and there an offensive aggravation. your cargo of pardons will have no market. it is unfashionable to look at them--even speculation is at an end. they have become a perfect drug, and no way calculated for the climate. in the course of your proclamation you say, "the policy as well as the benevolence of great britain have thus far checked the extremes of war, when they tended to distress a people still considered as their fellow subjects, and to desolate a country shortly to become again a source of mutual advantage." what you mean by "the benevolence of great britain" is to me inconceivable. to put a plain question; do you consider yourselves men or devils? for until this point is settled, no determinate sense can be put upon the expression. you have already equalled and in many cases excelled, the savages of either indies; and if you have yet a cruelty in store you must have imported it, unmixed with every human material, from the original warehouse of hell. to the interposition of providence, and her blessings on our endeavors, and not to british benevolence are we indebted for the short chain that limits your ravages. remember you do not, at this time, command a foot of land on the continent of america. staten island, york island, a small part of long island, and rhode island, circumscribe your power; and even those you hold at the expense of the west indies. to avoid a defeat, or prevent a desertion of your troops, you have taken up your quarters in holes and corners of inaccessible security; and in order to conceal what every one can perceive, you now endeavor to impose your weakness upon us for an act of mercy. if you think to succeed by such shadowy devices, you are but infants in the political world; you have the a, b, c, of stratagem yet to learn, and are wholly ignorant of the people you have to contend with. like men in a state of intoxication, you forget that the rest of the world have eyes, and that the same stupidity which conceals you from yourselves exposes you to their satire and contempt. the paragraph which i have quoted, stands as an introduction to the following: "but when that country [america] professes the unnatural design, not only of estranging herself from us, but of mortgaging herself and her resources to our enemies, the whole contest is changed: and the question is how far great britain may, by every means in her power, destroy or render useless, a connection contrived for her ruin, and the aggrandizement of france. under such circumstances, the laws of self-preservation must direct the conduct of britain, and, if the british colonies are to become an accession to france, will direct her to render that accession of as little avail as possible to her enemy." i consider you in this declaration, like madmen biting in the hour of death. it contains likewise a fraudulent meanness; for, in order to justify a barbarous conclusion, you have advanced a false position. the treaty we have formed with france is open, noble, and generous. it is true policy, founded on sound philosophy, and neither a surrender or mortgage, as you would scandalously insinuate. i have seen every article, and speak from positive knowledge. in france, we have found an affectionate friend and faithful ally; in britain, we have found nothing but tyranny, cruelty, and infidelity. but the happiness is, that the mischief you threaten, is not in your power to execute; and if it were, the punishment would return upon you in a ten-fold degree. the humanity of america has hitherto restrained her from acts of retaliation, and the affection she retains for many individuals in england, who have fed, clothed and comforted her prisoners, has, to the present day, warded off her resentment, and operated as a screen to the whole. but even these considerations must cease, when national objects interfere and oppose them. repeated aggravations will provoke a retort, and policy justify the measure. we mean now to take you seriously up upon your own ground and principle, and as you do, so shall you be done by. you ought to know, gentlemen, that england and scotland, are far more exposed to incendiary desolation than america, in her present state, can possibly be. we occupy a country, with but few towns, and whose riches consist in land and annual produce. the two last can suffer but little, and that only within a very limited compass. in britain it is otherwise. her wealth lies chiefly in cities and large towns, the depositories of manufactures and fleets of merchantmen. there is not a nobleman's country seat but may be laid in ashes by a single person. your own may probably contribute to the proof: in short, there is no evil which cannot be returned when you come to incendiary mischief. the ships in the thames, may certainly be as easily set on fire, as the temporary bridge was a few years ago; yet of that affair no discovery was ever made; and the loss you would sustain by such an event, executed at a proper season, is infinitely greater than any you can inflict. the east india house and the bank, neither are nor can be secure from this sort of destruction, and, as dr. price justly observes, a fire at the latter would bankrupt the nation. it has never been the custom of france and england when at war, to make those havocs on each other, because the ease with which they could retaliate rendered it as impolitic as if each had destroyed his own. but think not, gentlemen, that our distance secures you, or our invention fails us. we can much easier accomplish such a point than any nation in europe. we talk the same language, dress in the same habit, and appear with the same manners as yourselves. we can pass from one part of england to another unsuspected; many of us are as well acquainted with the country as you are, and should you impolitically provoke us, you will most assuredly lament the effects of it. mischiefs of this kind require no army to execute them. the means are obvious, and the opportunities unguardable. i hold up a warning to our senses, if you have any left, and "to the unhappy people likewise, whose affairs are committed to you."* i call not with the rancor of an enemy, but the earnestness of a friend, on the deluded people of england, lest, between your blunders and theirs, they sink beneath the evils contrived for us. * general [sir h.] clinton's letter to congress. "he who lives in a glass house," says a spanish proverb, "should never begin throwing stones." this, gentlemen, is exactly your case, and you must be the most ignorant of mankind, or suppose us so, not to see on which side the balance of accounts will fall. there are many other modes of retaliation, which, for several reasons, i choose not to mention. but be assured of this, that the instant you put your threat into execution, a counter-blow will follow it. if you openly profess yourselves savages, it is high time we should treat you as such, and if nothing but distress can recover you to reason, to punish will become an office of charity. while your fleet lay last winter in the delaware, i offered my service to the pennsylvania navy board then at trenton, as one who would make a party with them, or any four or five gentlemen, on an expedition down the river to set fire to it, and though it was not then accepted, nor the thing personally attempted, it is more than probable that your own folly will provoke a much more ruinous act. say not when mischief is done, that you had not warning, and remember that we do not begin it, but mean to repay it. thus much for your savage and impolitic threat. in another part of your proclamation you say, "but if the honors of a military life are become the object of the americans, let them seek those honors under the banners of their rightful sovereign, and in fighting the battles of the united british empire, against our late mutual and natural enemies." surely! the union of absurdity with madness was never marked in more distinguishable lines than these. your rightful sovereign, as you call him, may do well enough for you, who dare not inquire into the humble capacities of the man; but we, who estimate persons and things by their real worth, cannot suffer our judgments to be so imposed upon; and unless it is your wish to see him exposed, it ought to be your endeavor to keep him out of sight. the less you have to say about him the better. we have done with him, and that ought to be answer enough. you have been often told so. strange! that the answer must be so often repeated. you go a-begging with your king as with a brat, or with some unsaleable commodity you were tired of; and though every body tells you no, no, still you keep hawking him about. but there is one that will have him in a little time, and as we have no inclination to disappoint you of a customer, we bid nothing for him. the impertinent folly of the paragraph that i have just quoted, deserves no other notice than to be laughed at and thrown by, but the principle on which it is founded is detestable. we are invited to submit to a man who has attempted by every cruelty to destroy us, and to join him in making war against france, who is already at war against him for our support. can bedlam, in concert with lucifer, form a more mad and devilish request? were it possible a people could sink into such apostacy they would deserve to be swept from the earth like the inhabitants of sodom and gomorrah. the proposition is an universal affront to the rank which man holds in the creation, and an indignity to him who placed him there. it supposes him made up without a spark of honor, and under no obligation to god or man. what sort of men or christians must you suppose the americans to be, who, after seeing their most humble petitions insultingly rejected; the most grievous laws passed to distress them in every quarter; an undeclared war let loose upon them, and indians and negroes invited to the slaughter; who, after seeing their kinsmen murdered, their fellow citizens starved to death in prisons, and their houses and property destroyed and burned; who, after the most serious appeals to heaven, the most solemn abjuration by oath of all government connected with you, and the most heart-felt pledges and protestations of faith to each other; and who, after soliciting the friendship, and entering into alliances with other nations, should at last break through all these obligations, civil and divine, by complying with your horrid and infernal proposal. ought we ever after to be considered as a part of the human race? or ought we not rather to be blotted from the society of mankind, and become a spectacle of misery to the world? but there is something in corruption, which, like a jaundiced eye, transfers the color of itself to the object it looks upon, and sees every thing stained and impure; for unless you were capable of such conduct yourselves, you would never have supposed such a character in us. the offer fixes your infamy. it exhibits you as a nation without faith; with whom oaths and treaties are considered as trifles, and the breaking them as the breaking of a bubble. regard to decency, or to rank, might have taught you better; or pride inspired you, though virtue could not. there is not left a step in the degradation of character to which you can now descend; you have put your foot on the ground floor, and the key of the dungeon is turned upon you. that the invitation may want nothing of being a complete monster, you have thought proper to finish it with an assertion which has no foundation, either in fact or philosophy; and as mr. ferguson, your secretary, is a man of letters, and has made civil society his study, and published a treatise on that subject, i address this part to him. in the close of the paragraph which i last quoted, france is styled the "natural enemy" of england, and by way of lugging us into some strange idea, she is styled "the late mutual and natural enemy" of both countries. i deny that she ever was the natural enemy of either; and that there does not exist in nature such a principle. the expression is an unmeaning barbarism, and wholly unphilosophical, when applied to beings of the same species, let their station in the creation be what it may. we have a perfect idea of a natural enemy when we think of the devil, because the enmity is perpetual, unalterable and unabateable. it admits, neither of peace, truce, or treaty; consequently the warfare is eternal, and therefore it is natural. but man with man cannot arrange in the same opposition. their quarrels are accidental and equivocally created. they become friends or enemies as the change of temper, or the cast of interest inclines them. the creator of man did not constitute them the natural enemy of each other. he has not made any one order of beings so. even wolves may quarrel, still they herd together. if any two nations are so, then must all nations be so, otherwise it is not nature but custom, and the offence frequently originates with the accuser. england is as truly the natural enemy of france, as france is of england, and perhaps more so. separated from the rest of europe, she has contracted an unsocial habit of manners, and imagines in others the jealousy she creates in herself. never long satisfied with peace, she supposes the discontent universal, and buoyed up with her own importance, conceives herself the only object pointed at. the expression has been often used, and always with a fraudulent design; for when the idea of a natural enemy is conceived, it prevents all other inquiries, and the real cause of the quarrel is hidden in the universality of the conceit. men start at the notion of a natural enemy, and ask no other question. the cry obtains credit like the alarm of a mad dog, and is one of those kind of tricks, which, by operating on the common passions, secures their interest through their folly. but we, sir, are not to be thus imposed upon. we live in a large world, and have extended our ideas beyond the limits and prejudices of an island. we hold out the right hand of friendship to all the universe, and we conceive that there is a sociality in the manners of france, which is much better disposed to peace and negotiation than that of england, and until the latter becomes more civilized, she cannot expect to live long at peace with any power. her common language is vulgar and offensive, and children suck in with their milk the rudiments of insult--"the arm of britain! the mighty arm of britain! britain that shakes the earth to its center and its poles! the scourge of france! the terror of the world! that governs with a nod, and pours down vengeance like a god." this language neither makes a nation great or little; but it shows a savageness of manners, and has a tendency to keep national animosity alive. the entertainments of the stage are calculated to the same end, and almost every public exhibition is tinctured with insult. yet england is always in dread of france,--terrified at the apprehension of an invasion, suspicious of being outwitted in a treaty, and privately cringing though she is publicly offending. let her, therefore, reform her manners and do justice, and she will find the idea of a natural enemy to be only a phantom of her own imagination. little did i think, at this period of the war, to see a proclamation which could promise you no one useful purpose whatever, and tend only to expose you. one would think that you were just awakened from a four years' dream, and knew nothing of what had passed in the interval. is this a time to be offering pardons, or renewing the long forgotten subjects of charters and taxation? is it worth your while, after every force has failed you, to retreat under the shelter of argument and persuasion? or can you think that we, with nearly half your army prisoners, and in alliance with france, are to be begged or threatened into submission by a piece of paper? but as commissioners at a hundred pounds sterling a week each, you conceive yourselves bound to do something, and the genius of ill-fortune told you, that you must write. for my own part, i have not put pen to paper these several months. convinced of our superiority by the issue of every campaign, i was inclined to hope, that that which all the rest of the world now see, would become visible to you, and therefore felt unwilling to ruffle your temper by fretting you with repetitions and discoveries. there have been intervals of hesitation in your conduct, from which it seemed a pity to disturb you, and a charity to leave you to yourselves. you have often stopped, as if you intended to think, but your thoughts have ever been too early or too late. there was a time when britain disdained to answer, or even hear a petition from america. that time is past and she in her turn is petitioning our acceptance. we now stand on higher ground, and offer her peace; and the time will come when she, perhaps in vain, will ask it from us. the latter case is as probable as the former ever was. she cannot refuse to acknowledge our independence with greater obstinacy than she before refused to repeal her laws; and if america alone could bring her to the one, united with france she will reduce her to the other. there is something in obstinacy which differs from every other passion; whenever it fails it never recovers, but either breaks like iron, or crumbles sulkily away like a fractured arch. most other passions have their periods of fatigue and rest; their suffering and their cure; but obstinacy has no resource, and the first wound is mortal. you have already begun to give it up, and you will, from the natural construction of the vice, find yourselves both obliged and inclined to do so. if you look back you see nothing but loss and disgrace. if you look forward the same scene continues, and the close is an impenetrable gloom. you may plan and execute little mischiefs, but are they worth the expense they cost you, or will such partial evils have any effect on the general cause? your expedition to egg harbor, will be felt at a distance like an attack upon a hen-roost, and expose you in europe, with a sort of childish frenzy. is it worth while to keep an army to protect you in writing proclamations, or to get once a year into winter quarters? possessing yourselves of towns is not conquest, but convenience, and in which you will one day or other be trepanned. your retreat from philadelphia, was only a timely escape, and your next expedition may be less fortunate. it would puzzle all the politicians in the universe to conceive what you stay for, or why you should have stayed so long. you are prosecuting a war in which you confess you have neither object nor hope, and that conquest, could it be effected, would not repay the charges: in the mean while the rest of your affairs are running to ruin, and a european war kindling against you. in such a situation, there is neither doubt nor difficulty; the first rudiments of reason will determine the choice, for if peace can be procured with more advantages than even a conquest can be obtained, he must be an idiot indeed that hesitates. but you are probably buoyed up by a set of wretched mortals, who, having deceived themselves, are cringing, with the duplicity of a spaniel, for a little temporary bread. those men will tell you just what you please. it is their interest to amuse, in order to lengthen out their protection. they study to keep you amongst them for that very purpose; and in proportion as you disregard their advice, and grow callous to their complaints, they will stretch into improbability, and season their flattery the higher. characters like these are to be found in every country, and every country will despise them. common sense. philadelphia, oct. , . the crisis vii. to the people of england. there are stages in the business of serious life in which to amuse is cruel, but to deceive is to destroy; and it is of little consequence, in the conclusion, whether men deceive themselves, or submit, by a kind of mutual consent, to the impositions of each other. that england has long been under the influence of delusion or mistake, needs no other proof than the unexpected and wretched situation that she is now involved in: and so powerful has been the influence, that no provision was ever made or thought of against the misfortune, because the possibility of its happening was never conceived. the general and successful resistance of america, the conquest of burgoyne, and a war in france, were treated in parliament as the dreams of a discontented opposition, or a distempered imagination. they were beheld as objects unworthy of a serious thought, and the bare intimation of them afforded the ministry a triumph of laughter. short triumph indeed! for everything which has been predicted has happened, and all that was promised has failed. a long series of politics so remarkably distinguished by a succession of misfortunes, without one alleviating turn, must certainly have something in it systematically wrong. it is sufficient to awaken the most credulous into suspicion, and the most obstinate into thought. either the means in your power are insufficient, or the measures ill planned; either the execution has been bad, or the thing attempted impracticable; or, to speak more emphatically, either you are not able or heaven is not willing. for, why is it that you have not conquered us? who, or what has prevented you? you have had every opportunity that you could desire, and succeeded to your utmost wish in every preparatory means. your fleets and armies have arrived in america without an accident. no uncommon fortune has intervened. no foreign nation has interfered until the time which you had allotted for victory was passed. the opposition, either in or out of parliament, neither disconcerted your measures, retarded or diminished your force. they only foretold your fate. every ministerial scheme was carried with as high a hand as if the whole nation had been unanimous. every thing wanted was asked for, and every thing asked for was granted. a greater force was not within the compass of your abilities to send, and the time you sent it was of all others the most favorable. you were then at rest with the whole world beside. you had the range of every court in europe uncontradicted by us. you amused us with a tale of commissioners of peace, and under that disguise collected a numerous army and came almost unexpectedly upon us. the force was much greater than we looked for; and that which we had to oppose it with, was unequal in numbers, badly armed, and poorly disciplined; beside which, it was embodied only for a short time, and expired within a few months after your arrival. we had governments to form; measures to concert; an army to train, and every necessary article to import or to create. our non-importation scheme had exhausted our stores, and your command by sea intercepted our supplies. we were a people unknown, and unconnected with the political world, and strangers to the disposition of foreign powers. could you possibly wish for a more favorable conjunction of circumstances? yet all these have happened and passed away, and, as it were, left you with a laugh. there are likewise, events of such an original nativity as can never happen again, unless a new world should arise from the ocean. if any thing can be a lesson to presumption, surely the circumstances of this war will have their effect. had britain been defeated by any european power, her pride would have drawn consolation from the importance of her conquerors; but in the present case, she is excelled by those that she affected to despise, and her own opinions retorting upon herself, become an aggravation of her disgrace. misfortune and experience are lost upon mankind, when they produce neither reflection nor reformation. evils, like poisons, have their uses, and there are diseases which no other remedy can reach. it has been the crime and folly of england to suppose herself invincible, and that, without acknowledging or perceiving that a full third of her strength was drawn from the country she is now at war with. the arm of britain has been spoken of as the arm of the almighty, and she has lived of late as if she thought the whole world created for her diversion. her politics, instead of civilizing, has tended to brutalize mankind, and under the vain, unmeaning title of "defender of the faith," she has made war like an indian against the religion of humanity. her cruelties in the east indies will never be forgotten, and it is somewhat remarkable that the produce of that ruined country, transported to america, should there kindle up a war to punish the destroyer. the chain is continued, though with a mysterious kind of uniformity both in the crime and the punishment. the latter runs parallel with the former, and time and fate will give it a perfect illustration. when information is withheld, ignorance becomes a reasonable excuse; and one would charitably hope that the people of england do not encourage cruelty from choice but from mistake. their recluse situation, surrounded by the sea, preserves them from the calamities of war, and keeps them in the dark as to the conduct of their own armies. they see not, therefore they feel not. they tell the tale that is told them and believe it, and accustomed to no other news than their own, they receive it, stripped of its horrors and prepared for the palate of the nation, through the channel of the london gazette. they are made to believe that their generals and armies differ from those of other nations, and have nothing of rudeness or barbarity in them. they suppose them what they wish them to be. they feel a disgrace in thinking otherwise, and naturally encourage the belief from a partiality to themselves. there was a time when i felt the same prejudices, and reasoned from the same errors; but experience, sad and painful experience, has taught me better. what the conduct of former armies was, i know not, but what the conduct of the present is, i well know. it is low, cruel, indolent and profligate; and had the people of america no other cause for separation than what the army has occasioned, that alone is cause sufficient. the field of politics in england is far more extensive than that of news. men have a right to reason for themselves, and though they cannot contradict the intelligence in the london gazette, they may frame upon it what sentiments they please. but the misfortune is, that a general ignorance has prevailed over the whole nation respecting america. the ministry and the minority have both been wrong. the former was always so, the latter only lately so. politics, to be executively right, must have a unity of means and time, and a defect in either overthrows the whole. the ministry rejected the plans of the minority while they were practicable, and joined in them when they became impracticable. from wrong measures they got into wrong time, and have now completed the circle of absurdity by closing it upon themselves. i happened to come to america a few months before the breaking out of hostilities. i found the disposition of the people such, that they might have been led by a thread and governed by a reed. their suspicion was quick and penetrating, but their attachment to britain was obstinate, and it was at that time a kind of treason to speak against it. they disliked the ministry, but they esteemed the nation. their idea of grievance operated without resentment, and their single object was reconciliation. bad as i believed the ministry to be, i never conceived them capable of a measure so rash and wicked as the commencing of hostilities; much less did i imagine the nation would encourage it. i viewed the dispute as a kind of law-suit, in which i supposed the parties would find a way either to decide or settle it. i had no thoughts of independence or of arms. the world could not then have persuaded me that i should be either a soldier or an author. if i had any talents for either, they were buried in me, and might ever have continued so, had not the necessity of the times dragged and driven them into action. i had formed my plan of life, and conceiving myself happy, wished every body else so. but when the country, into which i had just set my foot, was set on fire about my ears, it was time to stir. it was time for every man to stir. those who had been long settled had something to defend; those who had just come had something to pursue; and the call and the concern was equal and universal. for in a country where all men were once adventurers, the difference of a few years in their arrival could make none in their right. the breaking out of hostilities opened a new suspicion in the politics of america, which, though at that time very rare, has since been proved to be very right. what i allude to is, "a secret and fixed determination in the british cabinet to annex america to the crown of england as a conquered country." if this be taken as the object, then the whole line of conduct pursued by the ministry, though rash in its origin and ruinous in its consequences, is nevertheless uniform and consistent in its parts. it applies to every case and resolves every difficulty. but if taxation, or any thing else, be taken in its room, there is no proportion between the object and the charge. nothing but the whole soil and property of the country can be placed as a possible equivalent against the millions which the ministry expended. no taxes raised in america could possibly repay it. a revenue of two millions sterling a year would not discharge the sum and interest accumulated thereon, in twenty years. reconciliation never appears to have been the wish or the object of the administration; they looked on conquest as certain and infallible, and, under that persuasion, sought to drive the americans into what they might style a general rebellion, and then, crushing them with arms in their hands, reap the rich harvest of a general confiscation, and silence them for ever. the dependents at court were too numerous to be provided for in england. the market for plunder in the east indies was over; and the profligacy of government required that a new mine should be opened, and that mine could be no other than america, conquered and forfeited. they had no where else to go. every other channel was drained; and extravagance, with the thirst of a drunkard, was gaping for supplies. if the ministry deny this to have been their plan, it becomes them to explain what was their plan. for either they have abused us in coveting property they never labored for, or they have abused you in expending an amazing sum upon an incompetent object. taxation, as i mentioned before, could never be worth the charge of obtaining it by arms; and any kind of formal obedience which america could have made, would have weighed with the lightness of a laugh against such a load of expense. it is therefore most probable that the ministry will at last justify their policy by their dishonesty, and openly declare, that their original design was conquest: and, in this case, it well becomes the people of england to consider how far the nation would have been benefited by the success. in a general view, there are few conquests that repay the charge of making them, and mankind are pretty well convinced that it can never be worth their while to go to war for profit's sake. if they are made war upon, their country invaded, or their existence at stake, it is their duty to defend and preserve themselves, but in every other light, and from every other cause, is war inglorious and detestable. but to return to the case in question-- when conquests are made of foreign countries, it is supposed that the commerce and dominion of the country which made them are extended. but this could neither be the object nor the consequence of the present war. you enjoyed the whole commerce before. it could receive no possible addition by a conquest, but on the contrary, must diminish as the inhabitants were reduced in numbers and wealth. you had the same dominion over the country which you used to have, and had no complaint to make against her for breach of any part of the contract between you or her, or contending against any established custom, commercial, political or territorial. the country and commerce were both your own when you began to conquer, in the same manner and form as they had been your own a hundred years before. nations have sometimes been induced to make conquests for the sake of reducing the power of their enemies, or bringing it to a balance with their own. but this could be no part of your plan. no foreign authority was claimed here, neither was any such authority suspected by you, or acknowledged or imagined by us. what then, in the name of heaven, could you go to war for? or what chance could you possibly have in the event, but either to hold the same country which you held before, and that in a much worse condition, or to lose, with an amazing expense, what you might have retained without a farthing of charges? war never can be the interest of a trading nation, any more than quarrelling can be profitable to a man in business. but to make war with those who trade with us, is like setting a bull-dog upon a customer at the shop-door. the least degree of common sense shows the madness of the latter, and it will apply with the same force of conviction to the former. piratical nations, having neither commerce or commodities of their own to lose, may make war upon all the world, and lucratively find their account in it; but it is quite otherwise with britain: for, besides the stoppage of trade in time of war, she exposes more of her own property to be lost, than she has the chance of taking from others. some ministerial gentlemen in parliament have mentioned the greatness of her trade as an apology for the greatness of her loss. this is miserable politics indeed! because it ought to have been given as a reason for her not engaging in a war at first. the coast of america commands the west india trade almost as effectually as the coast of africa does that of the straits; and england can no more carry on the former without the consent of america, than she can the latter without a mediterranean pass. in whatever light the war with america is considered upon commercial principles, it is evidently the interest of the people of england not to support it; and why it has been supported so long, against the clearest demonstrations of truth and national advantage, is, to me, and must be to all the reasonable world, a matter of astonishment. perhaps it may be said that i live in america, and write this from interest. to this i reply, that my principle is universal. my attachment is to all the world, and not to any particular part, and if what i advance is right, no matter where or who it comes from. we have given the proclamation of your commissioners a currency in our newspapers, and i have no doubt you will give this a place in yours. to oblige and be obliged is fair. before i dismiss this part of my address, i shall mention one more circumstance in which i think the people of england have been equally mistaken: and then proceed to other matters. there is such an idea existing in the world, as that of national honor, and this, falsely understood, is oftentimes the cause of war. in a christian and philosophical sense, mankind seem to have stood still at individual civilization, and to retain as nations all the original rudeness of nature. peace by treaty is only a cessation of violence for a reformation of sentiment. it is a substitute for a principle that is wanting and ever will be wanting till the idea of national honor be rightly understood. as individuals we profess ourselves christians, but as nations we are heathens, romans, and what not. i remember the late admiral saunders declaring in the house of commons, and that in the time of peace, "that the city of madrid laid in ashes was not a sufficient atonement for the spaniards taking off the rudder of an english sloop of war." i do not ask whether this is christianity or morality, i ask whether it is decency? whether it is proper language for a nation to use? in private life we call it by the plain name of bullying, and the elevation of rank cannot alter its character. it is, i think, exceedingly easy to define what ought to be understood by national honor; for that which is the best character for an individual is the best character for a nation; and wherever the latter exceeds or falls beneath the former, there is a departure from the line of true greatness. i have thrown out this observation with a design of applying it to great britain. her ideas of national honor seem devoid of that benevolence of heart, that universal expansion of philanthropy, and that triumph over the rage of vulgar prejudice, without which man is inferior to himself, and a companion of common animals. to know who she shall regard or dislike, she asks what country they are of, what religion they profess, and what property they enjoy. her idea of national honor seems to consist in national insult, and that to be a great people, is to be neither a christian, a philosopher, or a gentleman, but to threaten with the rudeness of a bear, and to devour with the ferocity of a lion. this perhaps may sound harsh and uncourtly, but it is too true, and the more is the pity. i mention this only as her general character. but towards america she has observed no character at all; and destroyed by her conduct what she assumed in her title. she set out with the title of parent, or mother country. the association of ideas which naturally accompany this expression, are filled with everything that is fond, tender and forbearing. they have an energy peculiar to themselves, and, overlooking the accidental attachment of common affections, apply with infinite softness to the first feelings of the heart. it is a political term which every mother can feel the force of, and every child can judge of. it needs no painting of mine to set it off, for nature only can do it justice. but has any part of your conduct to america corresponded with the title you set up? if in your general national character you are unpolished and severe, in this you are inconsistent and unnatural, and you must have exceeding false notions of national honor to suppose that the world can admire a want of humanity or that national honor depends on the violence of resentment, the inflexibility of temper, or the vengeance of execution. i would willingly convince you, and that with as much temper as the times will suffer me to do, that as you opposed your own interest by quarrelling with us, so likewise your national honor, rightly conceived and understood, was no ways called upon to enter into a war with america; had you studied true greatness of heart, the first and fairest ornament of mankind, you would have acted directly contrary to all that you have done, and the world would have ascribed it to a generous cause. besides which, you had (though with the assistance of this country) secured a powerful name by the last war. you were known and dreaded abroad; and it would have been wise in you to have suffered the world to have slept undisturbed under that idea. it was to you a force existing without expense. it produced to you all the advantages of real power; and you were stronger through the universality of that charm, than any future fleets and armies may probably make you. your greatness was so secured and interwoven with your silence that you ought never to have awakened mankind, and had nothing to do but to be quiet. had you been true politicians you would have seen all this, and continued to draw from the magic of a name, the force and authority of a nation. unwise as you were in breaking the charm, you were still more unwise in the manner of doing it. samson only told the secret, but you have performed the operation; you have shaven your own head, and wantonly thrown away the locks. america was the hair from which the charm was drawn that infatuated the world. you ought to have quarrelled with no power; but with her upon no account. you had nothing to fear from any condescension you might make. you might have humored her, even if there had been no justice in her claims, without any risk to your reputation; for europe, fascinated by your fame, would have ascribed it to your benevolence, and america, intoxicated by the grant, would have slumbered in her fetters. but this method of studying the progress of the passions, in order to ascertain the probable conduct of mankind, is a philosophy in politics which those who preside at st. james's have no conception of. they know no other influence than corruption and reckon all their probabilities from precedent. a new case is to them a new world, and while they are seeking for a parallel they get lost. the talents of lord mansfield can be estimated at best no higher than those of a sophist. he understands the subtleties but not the elegance of nature; and by continually viewing mankind through the cold medium of the law, never thinks of penetrating into the warmer region of the mind. as for lord north, it is his happiness to have in him more philosophy than sentiment, for he bears flogging like a top, and sleeps the better for it. his punishment becomes his support, for while he suffers the lash for his sins, he keeps himself up by twirling about. in politics, he is a good arithmetician, and in every thing else nothing at all. there is one circumstance which comes so much within lord north's province as a financier, that i am surprised it should escape him, which is, the different abilities of the two countries in supporting the expense; for, strange as it may seem, england is not a match for america in this particular. by a curious kind of revolution in accounts, the people of england seem to mistake their poverty for their riches; that is, they reckon their national debt as a part of their national wealth. they make the same kind of error which a man would do, who after mortgaging his estate, should add the money borrowed, to the full value of the estate, in order to count up his worth, and in this case he would conceive that he got rich by running into debt. just thus it is with england. the government owed at the beginning of this war one hundred and thirty-five millions sterling, and though the individuals to whom it was due had a right to reckon their shares as so much private property, yet to the nation collectively it was so much poverty. there are as effectual limits to public debts as to private ones, for when once the money borrowed is so great as to require the whole yearly revenue to discharge the interest thereon, there is an end to further borrowing; in the same manner as when the interest of a man's debts amounts to the yearly income of his estate, there is an end to his credit. this is nearly the case with england, the interest of her present debt being at least equal to one half of her yearly revenue, so that out of ten millions annually collected by taxes, she has but five that she can call her own. the very reverse of this was the case with america; she began the war without any debt upon her, and in order to carry it on, she neither raised money by taxes, nor borrowed it upon interest, but created it; and her situation at this time continues so much the reverse of yours that taxing would make her rich, whereas it would make you poor. when we shall have sunk the sum which we have created, we shall then be out of debt, be just as rich as when we began, and all the while we are doing it shall feel no difference, because the value will rise as the quantity decreases. there was not a country in the world so capable of bearing the expense of a war as america; not only because she was not in debt when she began, but because the country is young and capable of infinite improvement, and has an almost boundless tract of new lands in store; whereas england has got to her extent of age and growth, and has not unoccupied land or property in reserve. the one is like a young heir coming to a large improvable estate; the other like an old man whose chances are over, and his estate mortgaged for half its worth. in the second number of the crisis, which i find has been republished in england, i endeavored to set forth the impracticability of conquering america. i stated every case, that i conceived could possibly happen, and ventured to predict its consequences. as my conclusions were drawn not artfully, but naturally, they have all proved to be true. i was upon the spot; knew the politics of america, her strength and resources, and by a train of services, the best in my power to render, was honored with the friendship of the congress, the army and the people. i considered the cause a just one. i know and feel it a just one, and under that confidence never made my own profit or loss an object. my endeavor was to have the matter well understood on both sides, and i conceived myself tendering a general service, by setting forth to the one the impossibility of being conquered, and to the other the impossibility of conquering. most of the arguments made use of by the ministry for supporting the war, are the very arguments that ought to have been used against supporting it; and the plans, by which they thought to conquer, are the very plans in which they were sure to be defeated. they have taken every thing up at the wrong end. their ignorance is astonishing, and were you in my situation you would see it. they may, perhaps, have your confidence, but i am persuaded that they would make very indifferent members of congress. i know what england is, and what america is, and from the compound of knowledge, am better enabled to judge of the issue than what the king or any of his ministers can be. in this number i have endeavored to show the ill policy and disadvantages of the war. i believe many of my remarks are new. those which are not so, i have studied to improve and place in a manner that may be clear and striking. your failure is, i am persuaded, as certain as fate. america is above your reach. she is at least your equal in the world, and her independence neither rests upon your consent, nor can it be prevented by your arms. in short, you spend your substance in vain, and impoverish yourselves without a hope. but suppose you had conquered america, what advantages, collectively or individually, as merchants, manufacturers, or conquerors, could you have looked for? this is an object you seemed never to have attended to. listening for the sound of victory, and led away by the frenzy of arms, you neglected to reckon either the cost or the consequences. you must all pay towards the expense; the poorest among you must bear his share, and it is both your right and your duty to weigh seriously the matter. had america been conquered, she might have been parcelled out in grants to the favorites at court, but no share of it would have fallen to you. your taxes would not have been lessened, because she would have been in no condition to have paid any towards your relief. we are rich by contrivance of our own, which would have ceased as soon as you became masters. our paper money will be of no use in england, and silver and gold we have none. in the last war you made many conquests, but were any of your taxes lessened thereby? on the contrary, were you not taxed to pay for the charge of making them, and has not the same been the case in every war? to the parliament i wish to address myself in a more particular manner. they appear to have supposed themselves partners in the chase, and to have hunted with the lion from an expectation of a right in the booty; but in this it is most probable they would, as legislators, have been disappointed. the case is quite a new one, and many unforeseen difficulties would have arisen thereon. the parliament claimed a legislative right over america, and the war originated from that pretence. but the army is supposed to belong to the crown, and if america had been conquered through their means, the claim of the legislature would have been suffocated in the conquest. ceded, or conquered, countries are supposed to be out of the authority of parliament. taxation is exercised over them by prerogative and not by law. it was attempted to be done in the grenadas a few years ago, and the only reason why it was not done was because the crown had made a prior relinquishment of its claim. therefore, parliament have been all this while supporting measures for the establishment of their authority, in the issue of which, they would have been triumphed over by the prerogative. this might have opened a new and interesting opposition between the parliament and the crown. the crown would have said that it conquered for itself, and that to conquer for parliament was an unknown case. the parliament might have replied, that america not being a foreign country, but a country in rebellion, could not be said to be conquered, but reduced; and thus continued their claim by disowning the term. the crown might have rejoined, that however america might be considered at first, she became foreign at last by a declaration of independence, and a treaty with france; and that her case being, by that treaty, put within the law of nations, was out of the law of parliament, who might have maintained, that as their claim over america had never been surrendered, so neither could it be taken away. the crown might have insisted, that though the claim of parliament could not be taken away, yet, being an inferior, it might be superseded; and that, whether the claim was withdrawn from the object, or the object taken from the claim, the same separation ensued; and that america being subdued after a treaty with france, was to all intents and purposes a regal conquest, and of course the sole property of the king. the parliament, as the legal delegates of the people, might have contended against the term "inferior," and rested the case upon the antiquity of power, and this would have brought on a set of very interesting and rational questions. st, what is the original fountain of power and honor in any country? d, whether the prerogative does not belong to the people? d, whether there is any such thing as the english constitution? th, of what use is the crown to the people? th, whether he who invented a crown was not an enemy to mankind? th, whether it is not a shame for a man to spend a million a year and do no good for it, and whether the money might not be better applied? th, whether such a man is not better dead than alive? th, whether a congress, constituted like that of america, is not the most happy and consistent form of government in the world?--with a number of others of the same import. in short, the contention about the dividend might have distracted the nation; for nothing is more common than to agree in the conquest and quarrel for the prize; therefore it is, perhaps, a happy circumstance, that our successes have prevented the dispute. if the parliament had been thrown out in their claim, which it is most probable they would, the nation likewise would have been thrown out in their expectation; for as the taxes would have been laid on by the crown without the parliament, the revenue arising therefrom, if any could have arisen, would not have gone into the exchequer, but into the privy purse, and so far from lessening the taxes, would not even have been added to them, but served only as pocket money to the crown. the more i reflect on this matter, the more i am satisfied at the blindness and ill policy of my countrymen, whose wisdom seems to operate without discernment, and their strength without an object. to the great bulwark of the nation, i mean the mercantile and manufacturing part thereof, i likewise present my address. it is your interest to see america an independent, and not a conquered country. if conquered, she is ruined; and if ruined, poor; consequently the trade will be a trifle, and her credit doubtful. if independent, she flourishes, and from her flourishing must your profits arise. it matters nothing to you who governs america, if your manufactures find a consumption there. some articles will consequently be obtained from other places, and it is right that they should; but the demand for others will increase, by the great influx of inhabitants which a state of independence and peace will occasion, and in the final event you may be enriched. the commerce of america is perfectly free, and ever will be so. she will consign away no part of it to any nation. she has not to her friends, and certainly will not to her enemies; though it is probable that your narrow-minded politicians, thinking to please you thereby, may some time or other unnecessarily make such a proposal. trade flourishes best when it is free, and it is weak policy to attempt to fetter it. her treaty with france is on the most liberal and generous principles, and the french, in their conduct towards her, have proved themselves to be philosophers, politicians, and gentlemen. to the ministry i likewise address myself. you, gentlemen, have studied the ruin of your country, from which it is not within your abilities to rescue her. your attempts to recover her are as ridiculous as your plans which involved her are detestable. the commissioners, being about to depart, will probably bring you this, and with it my sixth number, addressed to them; and in so doing they carry back more common sense than they brought, and you likewise will have more than when you sent them. having thus addressed you severally, i conclude by addressing you collectively. it is a long lane that has no turning. a period of sixteen years of misconduct and misfortune, is certainly long enough for any one nation to suffer under; and upon a supposition that war is not declared between france and you, i beg to place a line of conduct before you that will easily lead you out of all your troubles. it has been hinted before, and cannot be too much attended to. suppose america had remained unknown to europe till the present year, and that mr. banks and dr. solander, in another voyage round the world, had made the first discovery of her, in the same condition that she is now in, of arts, arms, numbers, and civilization. what, i ask, in that case, would have been your conduct towards her? for that will point out what it ought to be now. the problems and their solutions are equal, and the right line of the one is the parallel of the other. the question takes in every circumstance that can possibly arise. it reduces politics to a simple thought, and is moreover a mode of investigation, in which, while you are studying your interest the simplicity of the case will cheat you into good temper. you have nothing to do but to suppose that you have found america, and she appears found to your hand, and while in the joy of your heart you stand still to admire her, the path of politics rises straight before you. were i disposed to paint a contrast, i could easily set off what you have done in the present case, against what you would have done in that case, and by justly opposing them, conclude a picture that would make you blush. but, as, when any of the prouder passions are hurt, it is much better philosophy to let a man slip into a good temper than to attack him in a bad one, for that reason, therefore, i only state the case, and leave you to reflect upon it. to go a little back into politics, it will be found that the true interest of britain lay in proposing and promoting the independence of america immediately after the last peace; for the expense which britain had then incurred by defending america as her own dominions, ought to have shown her the policy and necessity of changing the style of the country, as the best probable method of preventing future wars and expense, and the only method by which she could hold the commerce without the charge of sovereignty. besides which, the title which she assumed, of parent country, led to, and pointed out the propriety, wisdom and advantage of a separation; for, as in private life, children grow into men, and by setting up for themselves, extend and secure the interest of the whole family, so in the settlement of colonies large enough to admit of maturity, the same policy should be pursued, and the same consequences would follow. nothing hurts the affections both of parents and children so much, as living too closely connected, and keeping up the distinction too long. domineering will not do over those, who, by a progress in life, have become equal in rank to their parents, that is, when they have families of their own; and though they may conceive themselves the subjects of their advice, will not suppose them the objects of their government. i do not, by drawing this parallel, mean to admit the title of parent country, because, if it is due any where, it is due to europe collectively, and the first settlers from england were driven here by persecution. i mean only to introduce the term for the sake of policy and to show from your title the line of your interest. when you saw the state of strength and opulence, and that by her own industry, which america arrived at, you ought to have advised her to set up for herself, and proposed an alliance of interest with her, and in so doing you would have drawn, and that at her own expense, more real advantage, and more military supplies and assistance, both of ships and men, than from any weak and wrangling government that you could exercise over her. in short, had you studied only the domestic politics of a family, you would have learned how to govern the state; but, instead of this easy and natural line, you flew out into every thing which was wild and outrageous, till, by following the passion and stupidity of the pilot, you wrecked the vessel within sight of the shore. having shown what you ought to have done, i now proceed to show why it was not done. the caterpillar circle of the court had an interest to pursue, distinct from, and opposed to yours; for though by the independence of america and an alliance therewith, the trade would have continued, if not increased, as in many articles neither country can go to a better market, and though by defending and protecting herself, she would have been no expense to you, and consequently your national charges would have decreased, and your taxes might have been proportionably lessened thereby; yet the striking off so many places from the court calendar was put in opposition to the interest of the nation. the loss of thirteen government ships, with their appendages, here and in england, is a shocking sound in the ear of a hungry courtier. your present king and ministry will be the ruin of you; and you had better risk a revolution and call a congress, than be thus led on from madness to despair, and from despair to ruin. america has set you the example, and you may follow it and be free. i now come to the last part, a war with france. this is what no man in his senses will advise you to, and all good men would wish to prevent. whether france will declare war against you, is not for me in this place to mention, or to hint, even if i knew it; but it must be madness in you to do it first. the matter is come now to a full crisis, and peace is easy if willingly set about. whatever you may think, france has behaved handsomely to you. she would have been unjust to herself to have acted otherwise than she did; and having accepted our offer of alliance she gave you genteel notice of it. there was nothing in her conduct reserved or indelicate, and while she announced her determination to support her treaty, she left you to give the first offence. america, on her part, has exhibited a character of firmness to the world. unprepared and unarmed, without form or government, she, singly opposed a nation that domineered over half the globe. the greatness of the deed demands respect; and though you may feel resentment, you are compelled both to wonder and admire. here i rest my arguments and finish my address. such as it is, it is a gift, and you are welcome. it was always my design to dedicate a crisis to you, when the time should come that would properly make it a crisis; and when, likewise, i should catch myself in a temper to write it, and suppose you in a condition to read it. that time has now arrived, and with it the opportunity for conveyance. for the commissioners--poor commissioners! having proclaimed, that "yet forty days and nineveh shall be overthrown," have waited out the date, and, discontented with their god, are returning to their gourd. and all the harm i wish them is, that it may not wither about their ears, and that they may not make their exit in the belly of a whale. common sense. philadelphia, nov. , . p.s.--though in the tranquillity of my mind i have concluded with a laugh, yet i have something to mention to the commissioners, which, to them, is serious and worthy their attention. their authority is derived from an act of parliament, which likewise describes and limits their official powers. their commission, therefore, is only a recital, and personal investiture, of those powers, or a nomination and description of the persons who are to execute them. had it contained any thing contrary to, or gone beyond the line of, the written law from which it is derived, and by which it is bound, it would, by the english constitution, have been treason in the crown, and the king been subject to an impeachment. he dared not, therefore, put in his commission what you have put in your proclamation, that is, he dared not have authorised you in that commission to burn and destroy any thing in america. you are both in the act and in the commission styled commissioners for restoring peace, and the methods for doing it are there pointed out. your last proclamation is signed by you as commissioners under that act. you make parliament the patron of its contents. yet, in the body of it, you insert matters contrary both to the spirit and letter of the act, and what likewise your king dared not have put in his commission to you. the state of things in england, gentlemen, is too ticklish for you to run hazards. you are accountable to parliament for the execution of that act according to the letter of it. your heads may pay for breaking it, for you certainly have broke it by exceeding it. and as a friend, who would wish you to escape the paw of the lion, as well as the belly of the whale, i civilly hint to you, to keep within compass. sir harry clinton, strictly speaking, is as accountable as the rest; for though a general, he is likewise a commissioner, acting under a superior authority. his first obedience is due to the act; and his plea of being a general, will not and cannot clear him as a commissioner, for that would suppose the crown, in its single capacity, to have a power of dispensing with an act of parliament. your situation, gentlemen, is nice and critical, and the more so because england is unsettled. take heed! remember the times of charles the first! for laud and stafford fell by trusting to a hope like yours. having thus shown you the danger of your proclamation, i now show you the folly of it. the means contradict your design: you threaten to lay waste, in order to render america a useless acquisition of alliance to france. i reply, that the more destruction you commit (if you could do it) the more valuable to france you make that alliance. you can destroy only houses and goods; and by so doing you increase our demand upon her for materials and merchandise; for the wants of one nation, provided it has freedom and credit, naturally produce riches to the other; and, as you can neither ruin the land nor prevent the vegetation, you would increase the exportation of our produce in payment, which would be to her a new fund of wealth. in short, had you cast about for a plan on purpose to enrich your enemies, you could not have hit upon a better. c. s. the crisis viii. address to the people of england. "trusting (says the king of england in his speech of november last,) in the divine providence, and in the justice of my cause, i am firmly resolved to prosecute the war with vigor, and to make every exertion in order to compel our enemies to equitable terms of peace and accommodation." to this declaration the united states of america, and the confederated powers of europe will reply, if britain will have war, she shall have enough of it. five years have nearly elapsed since the commencement of hostilities, and every campaign, by a gradual decay, has lessened your ability to conquer, without producing a serious thought on your condition or your fate. like a prodigal lingering in an habitual consumption, you feel the relics of life, and mistake them for recovery. new schemes, like new medicines, have administered fresh hopes, and prolonged the disease instead of curing it. a change of generals, like a change of physicians, served only to keep the flattery alive, and furnish new pretences for new extravagance. "can britain fail?"* has been proudly asked at the undertaking of every enterprise; and that "whatever she wills is fate,"*( ) has been given with the solemnity of prophetic confidence; and though the question has been constantly replied to by disappointment, and the prediction falsified by misfortune, yet still the insult continued, and your catalogue of national evils increased therewith. eager to persuade the world of her power, she considered destruction as the minister of greatness, and conceived that the glory of a nation like that of an [american] indian, lay in the number of its scalps and the miseries which it inflicts. * whitehead's new year's ode for . *( ) ode at the installation of lord north, for chancellor of the university of oxford. fire, sword and want, as far as the arms of britain could extend them, have been spread with wanton cruelty along the coast of america; and while you, remote from the scene of suffering, had nothing to lose and as little to dread, the information reached you like a tale of antiquity, in which the distance of time defaces the conception, and changes the severest sorrows into conversable amusement. this makes the second paper, addressed perhaps in vain, to the people of england. that advice should be taken wherever example has failed, or precept be regarded where warning is ridiculed, is like a picture of hope resting on despair: but when time shall stamp with universal currency the facts you have long encountered with a laugh, and the irresistible evidence of accumulated losses, like the handwriting on the wall, shall add terror to distress, you will then, in a conflict of suffering, learn to sympathize with others by feeling for yourselves. the triumphant appearance of the combined fleets in the channel and at your harbor's mouth, and the expedition of captain paul jones, on the western and eastern coasts of england and scotland, will, by placing you in the condition of an endangered country, read to you a stronger lecture on the calamities of invasion, and bring to your minds a truer picture of promiscuous distress, than the most finished rhetoric can describe or the keenest imagination conceive. hitherto you have experienced the expenses, but nothing of the miseries of war. your disappointments have been accompanied with no immediate suffering, and your losses came to you only by intelligence. like fire at a distance you heard not even the cry; you felt not the danger, you saw not the confusion. to you every thing has been foreign but the taxes to support it. you knew not what it was to be alarmed at midnight with an armed enemy in the streets. you were strangers to the distressing scene of a family in flight, and to the thousand restless cares and tender sorrows that incessantly arose. to see women and children wandering in the severity of winter, with the broken remains of a well furnished house, and seeking shelter in every crib and hut, were matters that you had no conception of. you knew not what it was to stand by and see your goods chopped for fuel, and your beds ripped to pieces to make packages for plunder. the misery of others, like a tempestuous night, added to the pleasures of your own security. you even enjoyed the storm, by contemplating the difference of conditions, and that which carried sorrow into the breasts of thousands served but to heighten in you a species of tranquil pride. yet these are but the fainter sufferings of war, when compared with carnage and slaughter, the miseries of a military hospital, or a town in flames. the people of america, by anticipating distress, had fortified their minds against every species you could inflict. they had resolved to abandon their homes, to resign them to destruction, and to seek new settlements rather than submit. thus familiarized to misfortune, before it arrived, they bore their portion with the less regret: the justness of their cause was a continual source of consolation, and the hope of final victory, which never left them, served to lighten the load and sweeten the cup allotted them to drink. but when their troubles shall become yours, and invasion be transferred upon the invaders, you will have neither their extended wilderness to fly to, their cause to comfort you, nor their hope to rest upon. distress with them was sharpened by no self-reflection. they had not brought it on themselves. on the contrary, they had by every proceeding endeavored to avoid it, and had descended even below the mark of congressional character, to prevent a war. the national honor or the advantages of independence were matters which, at the commencement of the dispute, they had never studied, and it was only at the last moment that the measure was resolved on. thus circumstanced, they naturally and conscientiously felt a dependence upon providence. they had a clear pretension to it, and had they failed therein, infidelity had gained a triumph. but your condition is the reverse of theirs. every thing you suffer you have sought: nay, had you created mischiefs on purpose to inherit them, you could not have secured your title by a firmer deed. the world awakens with no pity it your complaints. you felt none for others; you deserve none for yourselves. nature does not interest herself in cases like yours, but, on the contrary, turns from them with dislike, and abandons them to punishment. you may now present memorials to what court you please, but so far as america is the object, none will listen. the policy of europe, and the propensity there in every mind to curb insulting ambition, and bring cruelty to judgment, are unitedly against you; and where nature and interest reinforce with each other, the compact is too intimate to be dissolved. make but the case of others your own, and your own theirs, and you will then have a clear idea of the whole. had france acted towards her colonies as you have done, you would have branded her with every epithet of abhorrence; and had you, like her, stepped in to succor a struggling people, all europe must have echoed with your own applauses. but entangled in the passion of dispute you see it not as you ought, and form opinions thereon which suit with no interest but your own. you wonder that america does not rise in union with you to impose on herself a portion of your taxes and reduce herself to unconditional submission. you are amazed that the southern powers of europe do not assist you in conquering a country which is afterwards to be turned against themselves; and that the northern ones do not contribute to reinstate you in america who already enjoy the market for naval stores by the separation. you seem surprised that holland does not pour in her succors to maintain you mistress of the seas, when her own commerce is suffering by your act of navigation; or that any country should study her own interest while yours is on the carpet. such excesses of passionate folly, and unjust as well as unwise resentment, have driven you on, like pharaoh, to unpitied miseries, and while the importance of the quarrel shall perpetuate your disgrace, the flag of america will carry it round the world. the natural feelings of every rational being will be against you, and wherever the story shall be told, you will have neither excuse nor consolation left. with an unsparing hand, and an insatiable mind, you have desolated the world, to gain dominion and to lose it; and while, in a frenzy of avarice and ambition, the east and the west are doomed to tributary bondage, you rapidly earned destruction as the wages of a nation. at the thoughts of a war at home, every man amongst you ought to tremble. the prospect is far more dreadful there than in america. here the party that was against the measures of the continent were in general composed of a kind of neutrals, who added strength to neither army. there does not exist a being so devoid of sense and sentiment as to covet "unconditional submission," and therefore no man in america could be with you in principle. several might from a cowardice of mind, prefer it to the hardships and dangers of opposing it; but the same disposition that gave them such a choice, unfitted them to act either for or against us. but england is rent into parties, with equal shares of resolution. the principle which produced the war divides the nation. their animosities are in the highest state of fermentation, and both sides, by a call of the militia, are in arms. no human foresight can discern, no conclusion can be formed, what turn a war might take, if once set on foot by an invasion. she is not now in a fit disposition to make a common cause of her own affairs, and having no conquests to hope for abroad, and nothing but expenses arising at home, her everything is staked upon a defensive combat, and the further she goes the worse she is off. there are situations that a nation may be in, in which peace or war, abstracted from every other consideration, may be politically right or wrong. when nothing can be lost by a war, but what must be lost without it, war is then the policy of that country; and such was the situation of america at the commencement of hostilities: but when no security can be gained by a war, but what may be accomplished by a peace, the case becomes reversed, and such now is the situation of england. that america is beyond the reach of conquest, is a fact which experience has shown and time confirmed, and this admitted, what, i ask, is now the object of contention? if there be any honor in pursuing self-destruction with inflexible passion--if national suicide be the perfection of national glory, you may, with all the pride of criminal happiness, expire unenvied and unrivalled. but when the tumult of war shall cease, and the tempest of present passions be succeeded by calm reflection, or when those, who, surviving its fury, shall inherit from you a legacy of debts and misfortunes, when the yearly revenue scarcely be able to discharge the interest of the one, and no possible remedy be left for the other, ideas far different from the present will arise, and embitter the remembrance of former follies. a mind disarmed of its rage feels no pleasure in contemplating a frantic quarrel. sickness of thought, the sure consequence of conduct like yours, leaves no ability for enjoyment, no relish for resentment; and though, like a man in a fit, you feel not the injury of the struggle, nor distinguish between strength and disease, the weakness will nevertheless be proportioned to the violence, and the sense of pain increase with the recovery. to what persons or to whose system of politics you owe your present state of wretchedness, is a matter of total indifference to america. they have contributed, however unwillingly, to set her above themselves, and she, in the tranquillity of conquest, resigns the inquiry. the case now is not so properly who began the war, as who continues it. that there are men in all countries to whom a state of war is a mine of wealth, is a fact never to be doubted. characters like these naturally breed in the putrefaction of distempered times, and after fattening on the disease, they perish with it, or, impregnated with the stench, retreat into obscurity. but there are several erroneous notions to which you likewise owe a share of your misfortunes, and which, if continued, will only increase your trouble and your losses. an opinion hangs about the gentlemen of the minority, that america would relish measures under their administration, which she would not from the present cabinet. on this rock lord chatham would have split had he gained the helm, and several of his survivors are steering the same course. such distinctions in the infancy of the argument had some degree of foundation, but they now serve no other purpose than to lengthen out a war, in which the limits of a dispute, being fixed by the fate of arms, and guaranteed by treaties, are not to be changed or altered by trivial circumstances. the ministry, and many of the minority, sacrifice their time in disputing on a question with which they have nothing to do, namely, whether america shall be independent or not. whereas the only question that can come under their determination is, whether they will accede to it or not. they confound a military question with a political one, and undertake to supply by a vote what they lost by a battle. say she shall not be independent, and it will signify as much as if they voted against a decree of fate, or say that she shall, and she will be no more independent than before. questions which, when determined, cannot be executed, serve only to show the folly of dispute and the weakness of disputants. from a long habit of calling america your own, you suppose her governed by the same prejudices and conceits which govern yourselves. because you have set up a particular denomination of religion to the exclusion of all others, you imagine she must do the same, and because you, with an unsociable narrowness of mind, have cherished enmity against france and spain, you suppose her alliance must be defective in friendship. copying her notions of the world from you, she formerly thought as you instructed, but now feeling herself free, and the prejudice removed, she thinks and acts upon a different system. it frequently happens that in proportion as we are taught to dislike persons and countries, not knowing why, we feel an ardor of esteem upon the removal of the mistake: it seems as if something was to be made amends for, and we eagerly give in to every office of friendship, to atone for the injury of the error. but, perhaps, there is something in the extent of countries, which, among the generality of people, insensibly communicates extension of the mind. the soul of an islander, in its native state, seems bounded by the foggy confines of the water's edge, and all beyond affords to him matters only for profit or curiosity, not for friendship. his island is to him his world, and fixed to that, his every thing centers in it; while those who are inhabitants of a continent, by casting their eye over a larger field, take in likewise a larger intellectual circuit, and thus approaching nearer to an acquaintance with the universe, their atmosphere of thought is extended, and their liberality fills a wider space. in short, our minds seem to be measured by countries when we are men, as they are by places when we are children, and until something happens to disentangle us from the prejudice, we serve under it without perceiving it. in addition to this, it may be remarked, that men who study any universal science, the principles of which are universally known, or admitted, and applied without distinction to the common benefit of all countries, obtain thereby a larger share of philanthropy than those who only study national arts and improvements. natural philosophy, mathematics and astronomy, carry the mind from the country to the creation, and give it a fitness suited to the extent. it was not newton's honor, neither could it be his pride, that he was an englishman, but that he was a philosopher, the heavens had liberated him from the prejudices of an island, and science had expanded his soul as boundless as his studies. common sense. philadelphia, march, . the crisis ix. (had america pursued her advantages) had america pursued her advantages with half the spirit that she resisted her misfortunes, she would, before now, have been a conquering and a peaceful people; but lulled in the lap of soft tranquillity, she rested on her hopes, and adversity only has convulsed her into action. whether subtlety or sincerity at the close of the last year induced the enemy to an appearance for peace, is a point not material to know; it is sufficient that we see the effects it has had on our politics, and that we sternly rise to resent the delusion. the war, on the part of america, has been a war of natural feelings. brave in distress; serene in conquest; drowsy while at rest; and in every situation generously disposed to peace; a dangerous calm, and a most heightened zeal have, as circumstances varied, succeeded each other. every passion but that of despair has been called to a tour of duty; and so mistaken has been the enemy, of our abilities and disposition, that when she supposed us conquered, we rose the conquerors. the extensiveness of the united states, and the variety of their resources; the universality of their cause, the quick operation of their feelings, and the similarity of their sentiments, have, in every trying situation, produced a something, which, favored by providence, and pursued with ardor, has accomplished in an instant the business of a campaign. we have never deliberately sought victory, but snatched it; and bravely undone in an hour the blotted operations of a season. the reported fate of charleston, like the misfortunes of , has at last called forth a spirit, and kindled up a flame, which perhaps no other event could have produced. if the enemy has circulated a falsehood, they have unwisely aggravated us into life, and if they have told us the truth, they have unintentionally done us a service. we were returning with folded arms from the fatigues of war, and thinking and sitting leisurely down to enjoy repose. the dependence that has been put upon charleston threw a drowsiness over america. we looked on the business done--the conflict over--the matter settled--or that all which remained unfinished would follow of itself. in this state of dangerous relaxation, exposed to the poisonous infusions of the enemy, and having no common danger to attract our attention, we were extinguishing, by stages, the ardor we began with, and surrendering by piece-meal the virtue that defended us. afflicting as the loss of charleston may be, yet if it universally rouse us from the slumber of twelve months past, and renew in us the spirit of former days, it will produce an advantage more important than its loss. america ever is what she thinks herself to be. governed by sentiment, and acting her own mind, she becomes, as she pleases, the victor or the victim. it is not the conquest of towns, nor the accidental capture of garrisons, that can reduce a country so extensive as this. the sufferings of one part can never be relieved by the exertions of another, and there is no situation the enemy can be placed in that does not afford to us the same advantages which he seeks himself. by dividing his force, he leaves every post attackable. it is a mode of war that carries with it a confession of weakness, and goes on the principle of distress rather than conquest. the decline of the enemy is visible, not only in their operations, but in their plans; charleston originally made but a secondary object in the system of attack, and it is now become their principal one, because they have not been able to succeed elsewhere. it would have carried a cowardly appearance in europe had they formed their grand expedition, in , against a part of the continent where there was no army, or not a sufficient one to oppose them; but failing year after year in their impressions here, and to the eastward and northward, they deserted their capital design, and prudently contenting themselves with what they can get, give a flourish of honor to conceal disgrace. but this piece-meal work is not conquering the continent. it is a discredit in them to attempt it, and in us to suffer it. it is now full time to put an end to a war of aggravations, which, on one side, has no possible object, and on the other has every inducement which honor, interest, safety and happiness can inspire. if we suffer them much longer to remain among us, we shall become as bad as themselves. an association of vice will reduce us more than the sword. a nation hardened in the practice of iniquity knows better how to profit by it, than a young country newly corrupted. we are not a match for them in the line of advantageous guilt, nor they for us on the principles which we bravely set out with. our first days were our days of honor. they have marked the character of america wherever the story of her wars are told; and convinced of this, we have nothing to do but wisely and unitedly to tread the well known track. the progress of a war is often as ruinous to individuals, as the issue of it is to a nation; and it is not only necessary that our forces be such that we be conquerors in the end, but that by timely exertions we be secure in the interim. the present campaign will afford an opportunity which has never presented itself before, and the preparations for it are equally necessary, whether charleston stand or fall. suppose the first, it is in that case only a failure of the enemy, not a defeat. all the conquest that a besieged town can hope for, is, not to be conquered; and compelling an enemy to raise the siege, is to the besieged a victory. but there must be a probability amounting almost to a certainty, that would justify a garrison marching out to attack a retreat. therefore should charleston not be taken, and the enemy abandon the siege, every other part of the continent should prepare to meet them; and, on the contrary, should it be taken, the same preparations are necessary to balance the loss, and put ourselves in a position to co-operate with our allies, immediately on their arrival. we are not now fighting our battles alone, as we were in ; england, from a malicious disposition to america, has not only not declared war against france and spain, but, the better to prosecute her passions here, has afforded those powers no military object, and avoids them, to distress us. she will suffer her west india islands to be overrun by france, and her southern settlements to be taken by spain, rather than quit the object that gratifies her revenge. this conduct, on the part of britain, has pointed out the propriety of france sending a naval and land force to co-operate with america on the spot. their arrival cannot be very distant, nor the ravages of the enemy long. the recruiting the army, and procuring the supplies, are the two things most necessary to be accomplished, and a capture of either of the enemy's divisions will restore to america peace and plenty. at a crisis, big, like the present, with expectation and events, the whole country is called to unanimity and exertion. not an ability ought now to sleep, that can produce but a mite to the general good, nor even a whisper to pass that militates against it. the necessity of the case, and the importance of the consequences, admit no delay from a friend, no apology from an enemy. to spare now, would be the height of extravagance, and to consult present ease, would be to sacrifice it perhaps forever. america, rich in patriotism and produce, can want neither men nor supplies, when a serious necessity calls them forth. the slow operation of taxes, owing to the extensiveness of collection, and their depreciated value before they arrived in the treasury, have, in many instances, thrown a burden upon government, which has been artfully interpreted by the enemy into a general decline throughout the country. yet this, inconvenient as it may at first appear, is not only remediable, but may be turned to an immediate advantage; for it makes no real difference, whether a certain number of men, or company of militia (and in this country every man is a militia-man), are directed by law to send a recruit at their own expense, or whether a tax is laid on them for that purpose, and the man hired by government afterwards. the first, if there is any difference, is both cheapest and best, because it saves the expense which would attend collecting it as a tax, and brings the man sooner into the field than the modes of recruiting formerly used; and, on this principle, a law has been passed in this state, for recruiting two men from each company of militia, which will add upwards of a thousand to the force of the country. but the flame which has broken forth in this city since the report from new york, of the loss of charleston, not only does honor to the place, but, like the blaze of , will kindle into action the scattered sparks throughout america. the valor of a country may be learned by the bravery of its soldiery, and the general cast of its inhabitants, but confidence of success is best discovered by the active measures pursued by men of property; and when the spirit of enterprise becomes so universal as to act at once on all ranks of men, a war may then, and not till then, be styled truly popular. in , the ardor of the enterprising part was considerably checked by the real revolt of some, and the coolness of others. but in the present case, there is a firmness in the substance and property of the country to the public cause. an association has been entered into by the merchants, tradesmen, and principal inhabitants of the city [philadelphia], to receive and support the new state money at the value of gold and silver; a measure which, while it does them honor, will likewise contribute to their interest, by rendering the operations of the campaign convenient and effectual. nor has the spirit of exertion stopped here. a voluntary subscription is likewise begun, to raise a fund of hard money, to be given as bounties, to fill up the full quota of the pennsylvania line. it has been the remark of the enemy, that every thing in america has been done by the force of government; but when she sees individuals throwing in their voluntary aid, and facilitating the public measures in concert with the established powers of the country, it will convince her that the cause of america stands not on the will of a few but on the broad foundation of property and popularity. thus aided and thus supported, disaffection will decline, and the withered head of tyranny expire in america. the ravages of the enemy will be short and limited, and like all their former ones, will produce a victory over themselves. common sense. philadelphia, june , . p. s. at the time of writing this number of the crisis, the loss of charleston, though believed by some, was more confidently disbelieved by others. but there ought to be no longer a doubt upon the matter. charleston is gone, and i believe for the want of a sufficient supply of provisions. the man that does not now feel for the honor of the best and noblest cause that ever a country engaged in, and exert himself accordingly, is no longer worthy of a peaceable residence among a people determined to be free. c. s. the crisis extraordinary on the subject of taxation. it is impossible to sit down and think seriously on the affairs of america, but the original principles upon which she resisted, and the glow and ardor which they inspired, will occur like the undefaced remembrance of a lovely scene. to trace over in imagination the purity of the cause, the voluntary sacrifices that were made to support it, and all the various turnings of the war in its defence, is at once both paying and receiving respect. the principles deserve to be remembered, and to remember them rightly is repossessing them. in this indulgence of generous recollection, we become gainers by what we seem to give, and the more we bestow the richer we become. so extensively right was the ground on which america proceeded, that it not only took in every just and liberal sentiment which could impress the heart, but made it the direct interest of every class and order of men to defend the country. the war, on the part of britain, was originally a war of covetousness. the sordid and not the splendid passions gave it being. the fertile fields and prosperous infancy of america appeared to her as mines for tributary wealth. she viewed the hive, and disregarding the industry that had enriched it, thirsted for the honey. but in the present stage of her affairs, the violence of temper is added to the rage of avarice; and therefore, that which at the first setting out proceeded from purity of principle and public interest, is now heightened by all the obligations of necessity; for it requires but little knowledge of human nature to discern what would be the consequence, were america again reduced to the subjection of britain. uncontrolled power, in the hands of an incensed, imperious, and rapacious conqueror, is an engine of dreadful execution, and woe be to that country over which it can be exercised. the names of whig and tory would then be sunk in the general term of rebel, and the oppression, whatever it might be, would, with very few instances of exception, light equally on all. britain did not go to war with america for the sake of dominion, because she was then in possession; neither was it for the extension of trade and commerce, because she had monopolized the whole, and the country had yielded to it; neither was it to extinguish what she might call rebellion, because before she began no resistance existed. it could then be from no other motive than avarice, or a design of establishing, in the first instance, the same taxes in america as are paid in england (which, as i shall presently show, are above eleven times heavier than the taxes we now pay for the present year, ) or, in the second instance, to confiscate the whole property of america, in case of resistance and conquest of the latter, of which she had then no doubt. i shall now proceed to show what the taxes in england are, and what the yearly expense of the present war is to her--what the taxes of this country amount to, and what the annual expense of defending it effectually will be to us; and shall endeavor concisely to point out the cause of our difficulties, and the advantages on one side, and the consequences on the other, in case we do, or do not, put ourselves in an effectual state of defence. i mean to be open, candid, and sincere. i see a universal wish to expel the enemy from the country, a murmuring because the war is not carried on with more vigor, and my intention is to show, as shortly as possible, both the reason and the remedy. the number of souls in england (exclusive of scotland and ireland) is seven millions,* and the number of souls in america is three millions. * this is taking the highest number that the people of england have been, or can be rated at. the amount of taxes in england (exclusive of scotland and ireland) was, before the present war commenced, eleven millions six hundred and forty-two thousand six hundred and fifty-three pounds sterling; which, on an average, is no less a sum than one pound thirteen shillings and three-pence sterling per head per annum, men, women, and children; besides county taxes, taxes for the support of the poor, and a tenth of all the produce of the earth for the support of the bishops and clergy.* nearly five millions of this sum went annually to pay the interest of the national debt, contracted by former wars, and the remaining sum of six millions six hundred and forty-two thousand six hundred pounds was applied to defray the yearly expense of government, the peace establishment of the army and navy, placemen, pensioners, etc.; consequently the whole of the enormous taxes being thus appropriated, she had nothing to spare out of them towards defraying the expenses of the present war or any other. yet had she not been in debt at the beginning of the war, as we were not, and, like us, had only a land and not a naval war to carry on, her then revenue of eleven millions and a half pounds sterling would have defrayed all her annual expenses of war and government within each year. * the following is taken from dr. price's state of the taxes of england. an account of the money drawn from the public by taxes, annually, being the medium of three years before the year . amount of customs in england , , l. amount of the excise in england , , land tax at s. , , land tax at s. in the pound , salt duties , duties on stamps, cards, dice, advertisements, bonds, leases, indentures, newspapers, almanacks, etc. , duties on houses and windows , post office, seizures, wine licences, hackney coaches, etc. , annual profits from lotteries , expense of collecting the excise in england , expense of collecting the customs in england , interest of loans on the land tax at s. expenses of collection, militia, etc. , perquisites, etc. to custom-house officers, &c. supposed , expense of collecting the salt duties in england / per cent. , bounties on fish exported , expense of collecting the duties on stamps, cards, advertisements, etc. at and / per cent. , total , , l. but this not being the case with her, she is obliged to borrow about ten millions pounds sterling, yearly, to prosecute the war that she is now engaged in, (this year she borrowed twelve) and lay on new taxes to discharge the interest; allowing that the present war has cost her only fifty millions sterling, the interest thereon, at five per cent., will be two millions and an half; therefore the amount of her taxes now must be fourteen millions, which on an average is no less than forty shillings sterling, per head, men, women and children, throughout the nation. now as this expense of fifty millions was borrowed on the hopes of conquering america, and as it was avarice which first induced her to commence the war, how truly wretched and deplorable would the condition of this country be, were she, by her own remissness, to suffer an enemy of such a disposition, and so circumstanced, to reduce her to subjection. i now proceed to the revenues of america. i have already stated the number of souls in america to be three millions, and by a calculation that i have made, which i have every reason to believe is sufficiently correct, the whole expense of the war, and the support of the several governments, may be defrayed for two million pounds sterling annually; which, on an average, is thirteen shillings and four pence per head, men, women, and children, and the peace establishment at the end of the war will be but three quarters of a million, or five shillings sterling per head. now, throwing out of the question everything of honor, principle, happiness, freedom, and reputation in the world, and taking it up on the simple ground of interest, i put the following case: suppose britain was to conquer america, and, as a conqueror, was to lay her under no other conditions than to pay the same proportion towards her annual revenue which the people of england pay: our share, in that case, would be six million pounds sterling yearly. can it then be a question, whether it is best to raise two millions to defend the country, and govern it ourselves, and only three quarters of a million afterwards, or pay six millions to have it conquered, and let the enemy govern it? can it be supposed that conquerors would choose to put themselves in a worse condition than what they granted to the conquered? in england, the tax on rum is five shillings and one penny sterling per gallon, which is one silver dollar and fourteen coppers. now would it not be laughable to imagine, that after the expense they have been at, they would let either whig or tory drink it cheaper than themselves? coffee, which is so inconsiderable an article of consumption and support here, is there loaded with a duty which makes the price between five and six shillings per pound, and a penalty of fifty pounds sterling on any person detected in roasting it in his own house. there is scarcely a necessary of life that you can eat, drink, wear, or enjoy, that is not there loaded with a tax; even the light from heaven is only permitted to shine into their dwellings by paying eighteen pence sterling per window annually; and the humblest drink of life, small beer, cannot there be purchased without a tax of nearly two coppers per gallon, besides a heavy tax upon the malt, and another on the hops before it is brewed, exclusive of a land-tax on the earth which produces them. in short, the condition of that country, in point of taxation, is so oppressive, the number of her poor so great, and the extravagance and rapaciousness of the court so enormous, that, were they to effect a conquest of america, it is then only that the distresses of america would begin. neither would it signify anything to a man whether he be whig or tory. the people of england, and the ministry of that country, know us by no such distinctions. what they want is clear, solid revenue, and the modes which they would take to procure it, would operate alike on all. their manner of reasoning would be short, because they would naturally infer, that if we were able to carry on a war of five or six years against them, we were able to pay the same taxes which they do. i have already stated that the expense of conducting the present war, and the government of the several states, may be done for two millions sterling, and the establishment in the time of peace, for three quarters of a million.* * i have made the calculations in sterling, because it is a rate generally known in all the states, and because, likewise, it admits of an easy comparison between our expenses to support the war, and those of the enemy. four silver dollars and a half is one pound sterling, and three pence over. as to navy matters, they flourish so well, and are so well attended to by individuals, that i think it consistent on every principle of real use and economy, to turn the navy into hard money (keeping only three or four packets) and apply it to the service of the army. we shall not have a ship the less; the use of them, and the benefit from them, will be greatly increased, and their expense saved. we are now allied with a formidable naval power, from whom we derive the assistance of a navy. and the line in which we can prosecute the war, so as to reduce the common enemy and benefit the alliance most effectually, will be by attending closely to the land service. i estimate the charge of keeping up and maintaining an army, officering them, and all expenses included, sufficient for the defence of the country, to be equal to the expense of forty thousand men at thirty pounds sterling per head, which is one million two hundred thousand pounds. i likewise allow four hundred thousand pounds for continental expenses at home and abroad. and four hundred thousand pounds for the support of the several state governments--the amount will then be: for the army , , l. continental expenses at home and abroad , government of the several states , total , , l. i take the proportion of this state, pennsylvania, to be an eighth part of the thirteen united states; the quota then for us to raise will be two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling; two hundred thousand of which will be our share for the support and pay of the army, and continental expenses at home and abroad, and fifty thousand pounds for the support of the state government. in order to gain an idea of the proportion in which the raising such a sum will fall, i make the following calculation: pennsylvania contains three hundred and seventy-five thousand inhabitants, men, women and children; which is likewise an eighth of the number of inhabitants of the whole united states: therefore, two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling to be raised among three hundred and seventy-five thousand persons, is, on an average, thirteen shillings and four pence per head, per annum, or something more than one shilling sterling per month. and our proportion of three quarters of a million for the government of the country, in time of peace, will be ninety-three thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds sterling; fifty thousand of which will be for the government expenses of the state, and forty-three thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds for continental expenses at home and abroad. the peace establishment then will, on an average, be five shillings sterling per head. whereas, was england now to stop, and the war cease, her peace establishment would continue the same as it is now, viz. forty shillings per head; therefore was our taxes necessary for carrying on the war, as much per head as hers now is, and the difference to be only whether we should, at the end of the war, pay at the rate of five shillings per head, or forty shillings per head, the case needs no thinking of. but as we can securely defend and keep the country for one third less than what our burden would be if it was conquered, and support the governments afterwards for one eighth of what britain would levy on us, and could i find a miser whose heart never felt the emotion of a spark of principle, even that man, uninfluenced by every love but the love of money, and capable of no attachment but to his interest, would and must, from the frugality which governs him, contribute to the defence of the country, or he ceases to be a miser and becomes an idiot. but when we take in with it every thing that can ornament mankind; when the line of our interest becomes the line of our happiness; when all that can cheer and animate the heart, when a sense of honor, fame, character, at home and abroad, are interwoven not only with the security but the increase of property, there exists not a man in america, unless he be an hired emissary, who does not see that his good is connected with keeping up a sufficient defence. i do not imagine that an instance can be produced in the world, of a country putting herself to such an amazing charge to conquer and enslave another, as britain has done. the sum is too great for her to think of with any tolerable degree of temper; and when we consider the burden she sustains, as well as the disposition she has shown, it would be the height of folly in us to suppose that she would not reimburse herself by the most rapid means, had she america once more within her power. with such an oppression of expense, what would an empty conquest be to her! what relief under such circumstances could she derive from a victory without a prize? it was money, it was revenue she first went to war for, and nothing but that would satisfy her. it is not the nature of avarice to be satisfied with any thing else. every passion that acts upon mankind has a peculiar mode of operation. many of them are temporary and fluctuating; they admit of cessation and variety. but avarice is a fixed, uniform passion. it neither abates of its vigor nor changes its object; and the reason why it does not, is founded in the nature of things, for wealth has not a rival where avarice is a ruling passion. one beauty may excel another, and extinguish from the mind of man the pictured remembrance of a former one: but wealth is the phoenix of avarice, and therefore it cannot seek a new object, because there is not another in the world. i now pass on to show the value of the present taxes, and compare them with the annual expense; but this i shall preface with a few explanatory remarks. there are two distinct things which make the payment of taxes difficult; the one is the large and real value of the sum to be paid, and the other is the scarcity of the thing in which the payment is to be made; and although these appear to be one and the same, they are in several instances riot only different, but the difficulty springs from different causes. suppose a tax to be laid equal to one half of what a man's yearly income is, such a tax could not be paid, because the property could not be spared; and on the other hand, suppose a very trifling tax was laid, to be collected in pearls, such a tax likewise could not be paid, because they could not be had. now any person may see that these are distinct cases, and the latter of them is a representation of our own. that the difficulty cannot proceed from the former, that is, from the real value or weight of the tax, is evident at the first view to any person who will consider it. the amount of the quota of taxes for this state for the year, , (and so in proportion for every other state,) is twenty millions of dollars, which at seventy for one, is but sixty-four thousand two hundred and eighty pounds three shillings sterling, and on an average, is no more than three shillings and five pence sterling per head, per annum, per man, woman and child, or threepence two-fifths per head per month. now here is a clear, positive fact, that cannot be contradicted, and which proves that the difficulty cannot be in the weight of the tax, for in itself it is a trifle, and far from being adequate to our quota of the expense of the war. the quit-rents of one penny sterling per acre on only one half of the state, come to upwards of fifty thousand pounds, which is almost as much as all the taxes of the present year, and as those quit-rents made no part of the taxes then paid, and are now discontinued, the quantity of money drawn for public-service this year, exclusive of the militia fines, which i shall take notice of in the process of this work, is less than what was paid and payable in any year preceding the revolution, and since the last war; what i mean is, that the quit-rents and taxes taken together came to a larger sum then, than the present taxes without the quit-rents do now. my intention by these arguments and calculations is to place the difficulty to the right cause, and show that it does not proceed from the weight or worth of the tax, but from the scarcity of the medium in which it is paid; and to illustrate this point still further, i shall now show, that if the tax of twenty millions of dollars was of four times the real value it now is, or nearly so, which would be about two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling, and would be our full quota, this sum would have been raised with more ease, and have been less felt, than the present sum of only sixty-four thousand two hundred and eighty pounds. the convenience or inconvenience of paying a tax in money arises from the quantity of money that can be spared out of trade. when the emissions stopped, the continent was left in possession of two hundred millions of dollars, perhaps as equally dispersed as it was possible for trade to do it. and as no more was to be issued, the rise or fall of prices could neither increase nor diminish the quantity. it therefore remained the same through all the fluctuations of trade and exchange. now had the exchange stood at twenty for one, which was the rate congress calculated upon when they arranged the quota of the several states, the latter end of last year, trade would have been carried on for nearly four times less money than it is now, and consequently the twenty millions would have been spared with much greater ease, and when collected would have been of almost four times the value that they now are. and on the other hand, was the depreciation to be ninety or one hundred for one, the quantity required for trade would be more than at sixty or seventy for one, and though the value of them would be less, the difficulty of sparing the money out of trade would be greater. and on these facts and arguments i rest the matter, to prove that it is not the want of property, but the scarcity of the medium by which the proportion of property for taxation is to be measured out, that makes the embarrassment which we lie under. there is not money enough, and, what is equally as true, the people will not let there be money enough. while i am on the subject of the currency, i shall offer one remark which will appear true to everybody, and can be accounted for by nobody, which is, that the better the times were, the worse the money grew; and the worse the times were, the better the money stood. it never depreciated by any advantage obtained by the enemy. the troubles of , and the loss of philadelphia in , made no sensible impression on it, and every one knows that the surrender of charleston did not produce the least alteration in the rate of exchange, which, for long before, and for more than three months after, stood at sixty for one. it seems as if the certainty of its being our own, made us careless of its value, and that the most distant thoughts of losing it made us hug it the closer, like something we were loth to part with; or that we depreciate it for our pastime, which, when called to seriousness by the enemy, we leave off to renew again at our leisure. in short, our good luck seems to break us, and our bad makes us whole. passing on from this digression, i shall now endeavor to bring into one view the several parts which i have already stated, and form thereon some propositions, and conclude. i have placed before the reader, the average tax per head, paid by the people of england; which is forty shillings sterling. and i have shown the rate on an average per head, which will defray all the expenses of the war to us, and support the several governments without running the country into debt, which is thirteen shillings and four pence. i have shown what the peace establishment may be conducted for, viz., an eighth part of what it would be, if under the government of britain. and i have likewise shown what the average per head of the present taxes is, namely, three shillings and fivepence sterling, or threepence two-fifths per month; and that their whole yearly value, in sterling, is only sixty-four thousand two hundred and eighty pounds. whereas our quota, to keep the payments equal with the expenses, is two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. consequently, there is a deficiency of one hundred and eighty-five thousand seven hundred and twenty pounds, and the same proportion of defect, according to the several quotas, happens in every other state. and this defect is the cause why the army has been so indifferently fed, clothed and paid. it is the cause, likewise, of the nerveless state of the campaign, and the insecurity of the country. now, if a tax equal to thirteen and fourpence per head, will remove all these difficulties, and make people secure in their homes, leave them to follow the business of their stores and farms unmolested, and not only drive out but keep out the enemy from the country; and if the neglect of raising this sum will let them in, and produce the evils which might be prevented--on which side, i ask, does the wisdom, interest and policy lie? or, rather, would it not be an insult to reason, to put the question? the sum, when proportioned out according to the several abilities of the people, can hurt no one, but an inroad from the enemy ruins hundreds of families. look at the destruction done in this city [philadelphia]. the many houses totally destroyed, and others damaged; the waste of fences in the country round it, besides the plunder of furniture, forage, and provisions. i do not suppose that half a million sterling would reinstate the sufferers; and, does this, i ask, bear any proportion to the expense that would make us secure? the damage, on an average, is at least ten pounds sterling per head, which is as much as thirteen shillings and fourpence per head comes to for fifteen years. the same has happened on the frontiers, and in the jerseys, new york, and other places where the enemy has been--carolina and georgia are likewise suffering the same fate. that the people generally do not understand the insufficiency of the taxes to carry on the war, is evident, not only from common observation, but from the construction of several petitions which were presented to the assembly of this state, against the recommendation of congress of the th of march last, for taking up and funding the present currency at forty to one, and issuing new money in its stead. the prayer of the petition was, that the currency might be appreciated by taxes (meaning the present taxes) and that part of the taxes be applied to the support of the army, if the army could not be otherwise supported. now it could not have been possible for such a petition to have been presented, had the petitioners known, that so far from part of the taxes being sufficient for the support of the whole of them falls three-fourths short of the year's expenses. before i proceed to propose methods by which a sufficiency of money may be raised, i shall take a short view of the general state of the country. notwithstanding the weight of the war, the ravages of the enemy, and the obstructions she has thrown in the way of trade and commerce, so soon does a young country outgrow misfortune, that america has already surmounted many that heavily oppressed her. for the first year or two of the war, we were shut up within our ports, scarce venturing to look towards the ocean. now our rivers are beautified with large and valuable vessels, our stores filled with merchandise, and the produce of the country has a ready market, and an advantageous price. gold and silver, that for a while seemed to have retreated again within the bowels of the earth, have once more risen into circulation, and every day adds new strength to trade, commerce and agriculture. in a pamphlet, written by sir john dalrymple, and dispersed in america in the year , he asserted that two twenty-gun ships, nay, says he, tenders of those ships, stationed between albermarle sound and chesapeake bay, would shut up the trade of america for miles. how little did sir john dalrymple know of the abilities of america! while under the government of britain, the trade of this country was loaded with restrictions. it was only a few foreign ports which we were allowed to sail to. now it is otherwise; and allowing that the quantity of trade is but half what it was before the war, the case must show the vast advantage of an open trade, because the present quantity under her restrictions could not support itself; from which i infer, that if half the quantity without the restrictions can bear itself up nearly, if not quite, as well as the whole when subject to them, how prosperous must the condition of america be when the whole shall return open with all the world. by the trade i do not mean the employment of a merchant only, but the whole interest and business of the country taken collectively. it is not so much my intention, by this publication, to propose particular plans for raising money, as it is to show the necessity and the advantages to be derived from it. my principal design is to form the disposition of the people to the measures which i am fully persuaded it is their interest and duty to adopt, and which need no other force to accomplish them than the force of being felt. but as every hint may be useful, i shall throw out a sketch, and leave others to make such improvements upon it as to them may appear reasonable. the annual sum wanted is two millions, and the average rate in which it falls, is thirteen shillings and fourpence per head. suppose, then, that we raise half the sum and sixty thousand pounds over. the average rate thereof will be seven shillings per head. in this case we shall have half the supply that we want, and an annual fund of sixty thousand pounds whereon to borrow the other million; because sixty thousand pounds is the interest of a million at six per cent.; and if at the end of another year we should be obliged, by the continuance of the war, to borrow another million, the taxes will be increased to seven shillings and sixpence; and thus for every million borrowed, an additional tax, equal to sixpence per head, must be levied. the sum to be raised next year will be one million and sixty thousand pounds: one half of which i would propose should be raised by duties on imported goods, and prize goods, and the other half by a tax on landed property and houses, or such other means as each state may devise. but as the duties on imports and prize goods must be the same in all the states, therefore the rate per cent., or what other form the duty shall be laid, must be ascertained and regulated by congress, and ingrafted in that form into the law of each state; and the monies arising therefrom carried into the treasury of each state. the duties to be paid in gold or silver. there are many reasons why a duty on imports is the most convenient duty or tax that can be collected; one of which is, because the whole is payable in a few places in a country, and it likewise operates with the greatest ease and equality, because as every one pays in proportion to what he consumes, so people in general consume in proportion to what they can afford; and therefore the tax is regulated by the abilities which every man supposes himself to have, or in other words, every man becomes his own assessor, and pays by a little at a time, when it suits him to buy. besides, it is a tax which people may pay or let alone by not consuming the articles; and though the alternative may have no influence on their conduct, the power of choosing is an agreeable thing to the mind. for my own part, it would be a satisfaction to me was there a duty on all sorts of liquors during the war, as in my idea of things it would be an addition to the pleasures of society to know, that when the health of the army goes round, a few drops, from every glass becomes theirs. how often have i heard an emphatical wish, almost accompanied by a tear, "oh, that our poor fellows in the field had some of this!" why then need we suffer under a fruitless sympathy, when there is a way to enjoy both the wish and the entertainment at once. but the great national policy of putting a duty upon imports is, that it either keeps the foreign trade in our own hands, or draws something for the defence of the country from every foreigner who participates in it with us. thus much for the first half of the taxes, and as each state will best devise means to raise the other half, i shall confine my remarks to the resources of this state. the quota, then, of this state, of one million and sixty thousand pounds, will be one hundred and thirty-three thousand two hundred and fifty pounds, the half of which is sixty-six thousand six hundred and twenty-five pounds; and supposing one fourth part of pennsylvania inhabited, then a tax of one bushel of wheat on every twenty acres of land, one with another, would produce the sum, and all the present taxes to cease. whereas, the tithes of the bishops and clergy in england, exclusive of the taxes, are upwards of half a bushel of wheat on every single acre of land, good and bad, throughout the nation. in the former part of this paper, i mentioned the militia fines, but reserved speaking of the matter, which i shall now do. the ground i shall put it upon is, that two millions sterling a year will support a sufficient army, and all the expenses of war and government, without having recourse to the inconvenient method of continually calling men from their employments, which, of all others, is the most expensive and the least substantial. i consider the revenues created by taxes as the first and principal thing, and fines only as secondary and accidental things. it was not the intention of the militia law to apply the fines to anything else but the support of the militia, neither do they produce any revenue to the state, yet these fines amount to more than all the taxes: for taking the muster-roll to be sixty thousand men, the fine on forty thousand who may not attend, will be sixty thousand pounds sterling, and those who muster, will give up a portion of time equal to half that sum, and if the eight classes should be called within the year, and one third turn out, the fine on the remaining forty thousand would amount to seventy-two millions of dollars, besides the fifteen shillings on every hundred pounds of property, and the charge of seven and a half per cent. for collecting, in certain instances which, on the whole, would be upwards of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling. now if those very fines disable the country from raising a sufficient revenue without producing an equivalent advantage, would it not be for the ease and interest of all parties to increase the revenue, in the manner i have proposed, or any better, if a better can be devised, and cease the operation of the fines? i would still keep the militia as an organized body of men, and should there be a real necessity to call them forth, pay them out of the proper revenues of the state, and increase the taxes a third or fourth per cent. on those who do not attend. my limits will not allow me to go further into this matter, which i shall therefore close with this remark; that fines are, of all modes of revenue, the most unsuited to the minds of a free country. when a man pays a tax, he knows that the public necessity requires it, and therefore feels a pride in discharging his duty; but a fine seems an atonement for neglect of duty, and of consequence is paid with discredit, and frequently levied with severity. i have now only one subject more to speak of, with which i shall conclude, which is, the resolve of congress of the th of march last, for taking up and funding the present currency at forty for one, and issuing new money in its stead. every one knows that i am not the flatterer of congress, but in this instance they are right; and if that measure is supported, the currency will acquire a value, which, without it, it will not. but this is not all: it will give relief to the finances until such time as they can be properly arranged, and save the country from being immediately doubled taxed under the present mode. in short, support that measure, and it will support you. i have now waded through a tedious course of difficult business, and over an untrodden path. the subject, on every point in which it could be viewed, was entangled with perplexities, and enveloped in obscurity, yet such are the resources of america, that she wants nothing but system to secure success. common sense. philadelphia, oct. , . the crisis x. on the king of england's speech. of all the innocent passions which actuate the human mind there is none more universally prevalent than curiosity. it reaches all mankind, and in matters which concern us, or concern us not, it alike provokes in us a desire to know them. although the situation of america, superior to every effort to enslave her, and daily rising to importance and opulence, has placed her above the region of anxiety, it has still left her within the circle of curiosity; and her fancy to see the speech of a man who had proudly threatened to bring her to his feet, was visibly marked with that tranquil confidence which cared nothing about its contents. it was inquired after with a smile, read with a laugh, and dismissed with disdain. but, as justice is due, even to an enemy, it is right to say, that the speech is as well managed as the embarrassed condition of their affairs could well admit of; and though hardly a line of it is true, except the mournful story of cornwallis, it may serve to amuse the deluded commons and people of england, for whom it was calculated. "the war," says the speech, "is still unhappily prolonged by that restless ambition which first excited our enemies to commence it, and which still continues to disappoint my earnest wishes and diligent exertions to restore the public tranquillity." how easy it is to abuse truth and language, when men, by habitual wickedness, have learned to set justice at defiance. that the very man who began the war, who with the most sullen insolence refused to answer, and even to hear the humblest of all petitions, who has encouraged his officers and his army in the most savage cruelties, and the most scandalous plunderings, who has stirred up the indians on one side, and the negroes on the other, and invoked every aid of hell in his behalf, should now, with an affected air of pity, turn the tables from himself, and charge to another the wickedness that is his own, can only be equalled by the baseness of the heart that spoke it. to be nobly wrong is more manly than to be meanly right, is an expression i once used on a former occasion, and it is equally applicable now. we feel something like respect for consistency even in error. we lament the virtue that is debauched into a vice, but the vice that affects a virtue becomes the more detestable: and amongst the various assumptions of character, which hypocrisy has taught, and men have practised, there is none that raises a higher relish of disgust, than to see disappointed inveteracy twisting itself, by the most visible falsehoods, into an appearance of piety which it has no pretensions to. "but i should not," continues the speech, "answer the trust committed to the sovereign of a free people, nor make a suitable return to my subjects for their constant, zealous, and affectionate attachment to my person, family and government, if i consented to sacrifice, either to my own desire of peace, or to their temporary ease and relief, those essential rights and permanent interests, upon the maintenance and preservation of which, the future strength and security of this country must principally depend." that the man whose ignorance and obstinacy first involved and still continues the nation in the most hopeless and expensive of all wars, should now meanly flatter them with the name of a free people, and make a merit of his crime, under the disguise of their essential rights and permanent interests, is something which disgraces even the character of perverseness. is he afraid they will send him to hanover, or what does he fear? why is the sycophant thus added to the hypocrite, and the man who pretends to govern, sunk into the humble and submissive memorialist? what those essential rights and permanent interests are, on which the future strength and security of england must principally depend, are not so much as alluded to. they are words which impress nothing but the ear, and are calculated only for the sound. but if they have any reference to america, then do they amount to the disgraceful confession, that england, who once assumed to be her protectress, has now become her dependant. the british king and ministry are constantly holding up the vast importance which america is of to england, in order to allure the nation to carry on the war: now, whatever ground there is for this idea, it ought to have operated as a reason for not beginning it; and, therefore, they support their present measures to their own disgrace, because the arguments which they now use, are a direct reflection on their former policy. "the favorable appearance of affairs," continues the speech, "in the east indies, and the safe arrival of the numerous commercial fleets of my kingdom, must have given you satisfaction." that things are not quite so bad every where as in america may be some cause of consolation, but can be none for triumph. one broken leg is better than two, but still it is not a source of joy: and let the appearance of affairs in the east indies be ever so favorable, they are nevertheless worse than at first, without a prospect of their ever being better. but the mournful story of cornwallis was yet to be told, and it was necessary to give it the softest introduction possible. "but in the course of this year," continues the speech, "my assiduous endeavors to guard the extensive dominions of my crown have not been attended with success equal to the justice and uprightness of my views."--what justice and uprightness there was in beginning a war with america, the world will judge of, and the unequalled barbarity with which it has been conducted, is not to be worn from the memory by the cant of snivelling hypocrisy. "and it is with great concern that i inform you that the events of war have been very unfortunate to my arms in virginia, having ended in the loss of my forces in that province."--and our great concern is that they are not all served in the same manner. "no endeavors have been wanted on my part," says the speech, "to extinguish that spirit of rebellion which our enemies have found means to foment and maintain in the colonies; and to restore to my deluded subjects in america that happy and prosperous condition which they formerly derived from a due obedience to the laws." the expression of deluded subjects is become so hacknied and contemptible, and the more so when we see them making prisoners of whole armies at a time, that the pride of not being laughed at would induce a man of common sense to leave it off. but the most offensive falsehood in the paragraph is the attributing the prosperity of america to a wrong cause. it was the unremitted industry of the settlers and their descendants, the hard labor and toil of persevering fortitude, that were the true causes of the prosperity of america. the former tyranny of england served to people it, and the virtue of the adventurers to improve it. ask the man, who, with his axe, has cleared a way in the wilderness, and now possesses an estate, what made him rich, and he will tell you the labor of his hands, the sweat of his brow, and the blessing of heaven. let britain but leave america to herself and she asks no more. she has risen into greatness without the knowledge and against the will of england, and has a right to the unmolested enjoyment of her own created wealth. "i will order," says the speech, "the estimates of the ensuing year to be laid before you. i rely on your wisdom and public spirit for such supplies as the circumstances of our affairs shall be found to require. among the many ill consequences which attend the continuation of the present war, i most sincerely regret the additional burdens which it must unavoidably bring upon my faithful subjects." it is strange that a nation must run through such a labyrinth of trouble, and expend such a mass of wealth to gain the wisdom which an hour's reflection might have taught. the final superiority of america over every attempt that an island might make to conquer her, was as naturally marked in the constitution of things, as the future ability of a giant over a dwarf is delineated in his features while an infant. how far providence, to accomplish purposes which no human wisdom could foresee, permitted such extraordinary errors, is still a secret in the womb of time, and must remain so till futurity shall give it birth. "in the prosecution of this great and important contest," says the speech, "in which we are engaged, i retain a firm confidence in the protection of divine providence, and a perfect conviction in the justice of my cause, and i have no doubt, but, that by the concurrence and support of my parliament, by the valour of my fleets and armies, and by a vigorous, animated, and united exertion of the faculties and resources of my people, i shall be enabled to restore the blessings of a safe and honorable peace to all my dominions." the king of england is one of the readiest believers in the world. in the beginning of the contest he passed an act to put america out of the protection of the crown of england, and though providence, for seven years together, has put him out of her protection, still the man has no doubt. like pharaoh on the edge of the red sea, he sees not the plunge he is making, and precipitately drives across the flood that is closing over his head. i think it is a reasonable supposition, that this part of the speech was composed before the arrival of the news of the capture of cornwallis: for it certainly has no relation to their condition at the time it was spoken. but, be this as it may, it is nothing to us. our line is fixed. our lot is cast; and america, the child of fate, is arriving at maturity. we have nothing to do but by a spirited and quick exertion, to stand prepared for war or peace. too great to yield, and too noble to insult; superior to misfortune, and generous in success, let us untaintedly preserve the character which we have gained, and show to future ages an example of unequalled magnanimity. there is something in the cause and consequence of america that has drawn on her the attention of all mankind. the world has seen her brave. her love of liberty; her ardour in supporting it; the justice of her claims, and the constancy of her fortitude have won her the esteem of europe, and attached to her interest the first power in that country. her situation now is such, that to whatever point, past, present or to come, she casts her eyes, new matter rises to convince her that she is right. in her conduct towards her enemy, no reproachful sentiment lurks in secret. no sense of injustice is left upon the mind. untainted with ambition, and a stranger to revenge, her progress has been marked by providence, and she, in every stage of the conflict, has blest her with success. but let not america wrap herself up in delusive hope and suppose the business done. the least remissness in preparation, the least relaxation in execution, will only serve to prolong the war, and increase expenses. if our enemies can draw consolation from misfortune, and exert themselves upon despair, how much more ought we, who are to win a continent by the conquest, and have already an earnest of success? having, in the preceding part, made my remarks on the several matters which the speech contains, i shall now make my remarks on what it does not contain. there is not a syllable in its respecting alliances. either the injustice of britain is too glaring, or her condition too desperate, or both, for any neighboring power to come to her support. in the beginning of the contest, when she had only america to contend with, she hired assistance from hesse, and other smaller states of germany, and for nearly three years did america, young, raw, undisciplined and unprovided, stand against the power of britain, aided by twenty thousand foreign troops, and made a complete conquest of one entire army. the remembrance of those things ought to inspire us with confidence and greatness of mind, and carry us through every remaining difficulty with content and cheerfulness. what are the little sufferings of the present day, compared with the hardships that are past? there was a time, when we had neither house nor home in safety; when every hour was the hour of alarm and danger; when the mind, tortured with anxiety, knew no repose, and every thing, but hope and fortitude, was bidding us farewell. it is of use to look back upon these things; to call to mind the times of trouble and the scenes of complicated anguish that are past and gone. then every expense was cheap, compared with the dread of conquest and the misery of submission. we did not stand debating upon trifles, or contending about the necessary and unavoidable charges of defence. every one bore his lot of suffering, and looked forward to happier days, and scenes of rest. perhaps one of the greatest dangers which any country can be exposed to, arises from a kind of trifling which sometimes steals upon the mind, when it supposes the danger past; and this unsafe situation marks at this time the peculiar crisis of america. what would she once have given to have known that her condition at this day should be what it now is? and yet we do not seem to place a proper value upon it, nor vigorously pursue the necessary measures to secure it. we know that we cannot be defended, nor yet defend ourselves, without trouble and expense. we have no right to expect it; neither ought we to look for it. we are a people, who, in our situation, differ from all the world. we form one common floor of public good, and, whatever is our charge, it is paid for our own interest and upon our own account. misfortune and experience have now taught us system and method; and the arrangements for carrying on the war are reduced to rule and order. the quotas of the several states are ascertained, and i intend in a future publication to show what they are, and the necessity as well as the advantages of vigorously providing for them. in the mean time, i shall conclude this paper with an instance of british clemency, from smollett's history of england, vol. xi., printed in london. it will serve to show how dismal the situation of a conquered people is, and that the only security is an effectual defence. we all know that the stuart family and the house of hanover opposed each other for the crown of england. the stuart family stood first in the line of succession, but the other was the most successful. in july, , charles, the son of the exiled king, landed in scotland, collected a small force, at no time exceeding five or six thousand men, and made some attempts to re-establish his claim. the late duke of cumberland, uncle to the present king of england, was sent against him, and on the th of april following, charles was totally defeated at culloden, in scotland. success and power are the only situations in which clemency can be shown, and those who are cruel, because they are victorious, can with the same facility act any other degenerate character. "immediately after the decisive action at culloden, the duke of cumberland took possession of inverness; where six and thirty deserters, convicted by a court martial, were ordered to be executed: then he detached several parties to ravage the country. one of these apprehended the lady mackintosh, who was sent prisoner to inverness, plundered her house, and drove away her cattle, though her husband was actually in the service of the government. the castle of lord lovat was destroyed. the french prisoners were sent to carlisle and penrith: kilmarnock, balmerino, cromartie, and his son, the lord macleod, were conveyed by sea to london; and those of an inferior rank were confined in different prisons. the marquis of tullibardine, together with a brother of the earl of dunmore, and murray, the pretender's secretary, were seized and transported to the tower of london, to which the earl of traquaire had been committed on suspicion; and the eldest son of lord lovat was imprisoned in the castle of edinburgh. in a word, all the jails in great britain, from the capital, northwards, were filled with those unfortunate captives; and great numbers of them were crowded together in the holds of ships, where they perished in the most deplorable manner, for want of air and exercise. some rebel chiefs escaped in two french frigates that arrived on the coast of lochaber about the end of april, and engaged three vessels belonging to his britannic majesty, which they obliged to retire. others embarked on board a ship on the coast of buchan, and were conveyed to norway, from whence they travelled to sweden. in the month of may, the duke of cumberland advanced with the army into the highlands, as far as fort augustus, where he encamped; and sent off detachments on all hands, to hunt down the fugitives, and lay waste the country with fire and sword. the castles of glengary and lochiel were plundered and burned; every house, hut, or habitation, met with the same fate, without distinction; and all the cattle and provision were carried off; the men were either shot upon the mountains, like wild beasts, or put to death in cold blood, without form of trial; the women, after having seen their husbands and fathers murdered, were subjected to brutal violation, and then turned out naked, with their children, to starve on the barren heaths. one whole family was enclosed in a barn, and consumed to ashes. those ministers of vengeance were so alert in the execution of their office, that in a few days there was neither house, cottage, man, nor beast, to be seen within the compass of fifty miles; all was ruin, silence, and desolation." i have here presented the reader with one of the most shocking instances of cruelty ever practised, and i leave it, to rest on his mind, that he may be fully impressed with a sense of the destruction he has escaped, in case britain had conquered america; and likewise, that he may see and feel the necessity, as well for his own personal safety, as for the honor, the interest, and happiness of the whole community, to omit or delay no one preparation necessary to secure the ground which we so happily stand upon. to the people of america on the expenses, arrangements and disbursements for carrying on the war, and finishing it with honor and advantage when any necessity or occasion has pointed out the convenience of addressing the public, i have never made it a consideration whether the subject was popular or unpopular, but whether it was right or wrong; for that which is right will become popular, and that which is wrong, though by mistake it may obtain the cry or fashion of the day, will soon lose the power of delusion, and sink into disesteem. a remarkable instance of this happened in the case of silas deane; and i mention this circumstance with the greater ease, because the poison of his hypocrisy spread over the whole country, and every man, almost without exception, thought me wrong in opposing him. the best friends i then had, except mr. [henry] laurens, stood at a distance, and this tribute, which is due to his constancy, i pay to him with respect, and that the readier, because he is not here to hear it. if it reaches him in his imprisonment, it will afford him an agreeable reflection. "as he rose like a rocket, he would fall like a stick," is a metaphor which i applied to mr. deane, in the first piece which i published respecting him, and he has exactly fulfilled the description. the credit he so unjustly obtained from the public, he lost in almost as short a time. the delusion perished as it fell, and he soon saw himself stripped of popular support. his more intimate acquaintances began to doubt, and to desert him long before he left america, and at his departure, he saw himself the object of general suspicion. when he arrived in france, he endeavored to effect by treason what he had failed to accomplish by fraud. his plans, schemes and projects, together with his expectation of being sent to holland to negotiate a loan of money, had all miscarried. he then began traducing and accusing america of every crime, which could injure her reputation. "that she was a ruined country; that she only meant to make a tool of france, to get what money she could out of her, and then to leave her and accommodate with britain." of all which and much more, colonel laurens and myself, when in france, informed dr. franklin, who had not before heard of it. and to complete the character of traitor, he has, by letters to his country since, some of which, in his own handwriting, are now in the possession of congress, used every expression and argument in his power, to injure the reputation of france, and to advise america to renounce her alliance, and surrender up her independence.* thus in france he abuses america, and in his letters to america he abuses france; and is endeavoring to create disunion between two countries, by the same arts of double-dealing by which he caused dissensions among the commissioners in paris, and distractions in america. but his life has been fraud, and his character has been that of a plodding, plotting, cringing mercenary, capable of any disguise that suited his purpose. his final detection has very happily cleared up those mistakes, and removed that uneasiness, which his unprincipled conduct occasioned. every one now sees him in the same light; for towards friends or enemies he acted with the same deception and injustice, and his name, like that of arnold, ought now to be forgotten among us. as this is the first time that i have mentioned him since my return from france, it is my intention that it shall be the last. from this digression, which for several reasons i thought necessary to give, i now proceed to the purport of my address. * mr. william marshall, of this city [philadelphia], formerly a pilot, who had been taken at sea and carried to england, and got from thence to france, brought over letters from mr. deane to america, one of which was directed to "robert morris, esq." mr. morris sent it unopened to congress, and advised mr. marshall to deliver the others there, which he did. the letters were of the same purport with those which have been already published under the signature of s. deane, to which they had frequent reference. i consider the war of america against britain as the country's war, the public's war, or the war of the people in their own behalf, for the security of their natural rights, and the protection of their own property. it is not the war of congress, the war of the assemblies, or the war of government in any line whatever. the country first, by mutual compact, resolved to defend their rights and maintain their independence, at the hazard of their lives and fortunes; they elected their representatives, by whom they appointed their members of congress, and said, act you for us, and we will support you. this is the true ground and principle of the war on the part of america, and, consequently, there remains nothing to do, but for every one to fulfil his obligation. it was next to impossible that a new country, engaged in a new undertaking, could set off systematically right at first. she saw not the extent of the struggle that she was involved in, neither could she avoid the beginning. she supposed every step that she took, and every resolution which she formed, would bring her enemy to reason and close the contest. those failing, she was forced into new measures; and these, like the former, being fitted to her expectations, and failing in their turn, left her continually unprovided, and without system. the enemy, likewise, was induced to prosecute the war, from the temporary expedients we adopted for carrying it on. we were continually expecting to see their credit exhausted, and they were looking to see our currency fail; and thus, between their watching us, and we them, the hopes of both have been deceived, and the childishness of the expectation has served to increase the expense. yet who, through this wilderness of error, has been to blame? where is the man who can say the fault, in part, has not been his? they were the natural, unavoidable errors of the day. they were the errors of a whole country, which nothing but experience could detect and time remove. neither could the circumstances of america admit of system, till either the paper currency was fixed or laid aside. no calculation of a finance could be made on a medium failing without reason, and fluctuating without rule. but there is one error which might have been prevented and was not; and as it is not my custom to flatter, but to serve mankind, i will speak it freely. it certainly was the duty of every assembly on the continent to have known, at all times, what was the condition of its treasury, and to have ascertained at every period of depreciation, how much the real worth of the taxes fell short of their nominal value. this knowledge, which might have been easily gained, in the time of it, would have enabled them to have kept their constituents well informed, and this is one of the greatest duties of representation. they ought to have studied and calculated the expenses of the war, the quota of each state, and the consequent proportion that would fall on each man's property for his defence; and this must have easily shown to them, that a tax of one hundred pounds could not be paid by a bushel of apples or an hundred of flour, which was often the case two or three years ago. but instead of this, which would have been plain and upright dealing, the little line of temporary popularity, the feather of an hour's duration, was too much pursued; and in this involved condition of things, every state, for the want of a little thinking, or a little information, supposed that it supported the whole expenses of the war, when in fact it fell, by the time the tax was levied and collected, above three-fourths short of its own quota. impressed with a sense of the danger to which the country was exposed by this lax method of doing business, and the prevailing errors of the day, i published, last october was a twelvemonth, the crisis extraordinary, on the revenues of america, and the yearly expense of carrying on the war. my estimation of the latter, together with the civil list of congress, and the civil list of the several states, was two million pounds sterling, which is very nearly nine millions of dollars. since that time, congress have gone into a calculation, and have estimated the expenses of the war department and the civil list of congress (exclusive of the civil list of the several governments) at eight millions of dollars; and as the remaining million will be fully sufficient for the civil list of the several states, the two calculations are exceedingly near each other. the sum of eight millions of dollars have called upon the states to furnish, and their quotas are as follows, which i shall preface with the resolution itself. "by the united states in congress assembled. "october , . "resolved, that the respective states be called upon to furnish the treasury of the united states with their quotas of eight millions of dollars, for the war department and civil list for the ensuing year, to be paid quarterly, in equal proportions, the first payment to be made on the first day of april next. "resolved, that a committee, consisting of a member from each state, be appointed to apportion to the several states the quota of the above sum. "november d. the committee appointed to ascertain the proportions of the several states of the monies to be raised for the expenses of the ensuing year, report the following resolutions: "that the sum of eight millions of dollars, as required to be raised by the resolutions of the th of october last, be paid by the states in the following proportion: new hampshire....... $ , massachusetts....... , , rhode island........ , connecticut......... , new york............ , new jersey.......... , pennsylvania........ , , delaware............ , maryland............ , virginia............ , , north carolina...... , south carolina...... , georgia............. , $ , , "resolved, that it be recommended to the several states, to lay taxes for raising their quotas of money for the united states, separate from those laid for their own particular use." on these resolutions i shall offer several remarks. st, on the sum itself, and the ability of the country. d, on the several quotas, and the nature of a union. and, d, on the manner of collection and expenditure. st, on the sum itself, and the ability of the country. as i know my own calculation is as low as possible, and as the sum called for by congress, according to their calculation, agrees very nearly therewith, i am sensible it cannot possibly be lower. neither can it be done for that, unless there is ready money to go to market with; and even in that case, it is only by the utmost management and economy that it can be made to do. by the accounts which were laid before the british parliament last spring, it appeared that the charge of only subsisting, that is, feeding their army in america, cost annually four million pounds sterling, which is very nearly eighteen millions of dollars. now if, for eight millions, we can feed, clothe, arm, provide for, and pay an army sufficient for our defence, the very comparison shows that the money must be well laid out. it may be of some use, either in debate or conversation, to attend to the progress of the expenses of an army, because it will enable us to see on what part any deficiency will fall. the first thing is, to feed them and prepare for the sick. _second_, to clothe them. _third_, to arm and furnish them. _fourth_, to provide means for removing them from place to place. and, _fifth_, to pay them. the first and second are absolutely necessary to them as men. the third and fourth are equally as necessary to them as an army. and the fifth is their just due. now if the sum which shall be raised should fall short, either by the several acts of the states for raising it, or by the manner of collecting it, the deficiency will fall on the fifth head, the soldiers' pay, which would be defrauding them, and eternally disgracing ourselves. it would be a blot on the councils, the country, and the revolution of america, and a man would hereafter be ashamed to own that he had any hand in it. but if the deficiency should be still shorter, it would next fall on the fourth head, the means of removing the army from place to place; and, in this case, the army must either stand still where it can be of no use, or seize on horses, carts, wagons, or any means of transportation which it can lay hold of; and in this instance the country suffers. in short, every attempt to do a thing for less than it can he done for, is sure to become at last both a loss and a dishonor. but the country cannot bear it, say some. this has been the most expensive doctrine that ever was held out, and cost america millions of money for nothing. can the country bear to be overrun, ravaged, and ruined by an enemy? this will immediately follow where defence is wanting, and defence will ever be wanting, where sufficient revenues are not provided. but this is only one part of the folly. the second is, that when the danger comes, invited in part by our not preparing against it, we have been obliged, in a number of instances, to expend double the sums to do that which at first might have been done for half the money. but this is not all. a third mischief has been, that grain of all sorts, flour, beef fodder, horses, carts, wagons, or whatever was absolutely or immediately wanted, have been taken without pay. now, i ask, why was all this done, but from that extremely weak and expensive doctrine, that the country could not bear it? that is, that she could not bear, in the first instance, that which would have saved her twice as much at last; or, in proverbial language, that she could not bear to pay a penny to save a pound; the consequence of which has been, that she has paid a pound for a penny. why are there so many unpaid certificates in almost every man's hands, but from the parsimony of not providing sufficient revenues? besides, the doctrine contradicts itself; because, if the whole country cannot bear it, how is it possible that a part should? and yet this has been the case: for those things have been had; and they must be had; but the misfortune is, that they have been obtained in a very unequal manner, and upon expensive credit, whereas, with ready money, they might have been purchased for half the price, and nobody distressed. but there is another thought which ought to strike us, which is, how is the army to bear the want of food, clothing and other necessaries? the man who is at home, can turn himself a thousand ways, and find as many means of ease, convenience or relief: but a soldier's life admits of none of those: their wants cannot be supplied from themselves: for an army, though it is the defence of a state, is at the same time the child of a country, or must be provided for in every thing. and lastly, the doctrine is false. there are not three millions of people in any part of the universe, who live so well, or have such a fund of ability, as in america. the income of a common laborer, who is industrious, is equal to that of the generality of tradesmen in england. in the mercantile line, i have not heard of one who could be said to be a bankrupt since the war began, and in england they have been without number. in america almost every farmer lives on his own lands, and in england not one in a hundred does. in short, it seems as if the poverty of that country had made them furious, and they were determined to risk all to recover all. yet, notwithstanding those advantages on the part of america, true it is, that had it not been for the operation of taxes for our necessary defence, we had sunk into a state of sloth and poverty: for there was more wealth lost by neglecting to till the earth in the years , ' , and ' , than the quota of taxes amounts to. that which is lost by neglect of this kind, is lost for ever: whereas that which is paid, and continues in the country, returns to us again; and at the same time that it provides us with defence, it operates not only as a spur, but as a premium to our industry. i shall now proceed to the second head, viz., on the several quotas, and the nature of a union. there was a time when america had no other bond of union, than that of common interest and affection. the whole country flew to the relief of boston, and, making her cause, their own, participated in her cares and administered to her wants. the fate of war, since that day, has carried the calamity in a ten-fold proportion to the southward; but in the mean time the union has been strengthened by a legal compact of the states, jointly and severally ratified, and that which before was choice, or the duty of affection, is now likewise the duty of legal obligation. the union of america is the foundation-stone of her independence; the rock on which it is built; and is something so sacred in her constitution, that we ought to watch every word we speak, and every thought we think, that we injure it not, even by mistake. when a multitude, extended, or rather scattered, over a continent in the manner we were, mutually agree to form one common centre whereon the whole shall move to accomplish a particular purpose, all parts must act together and alike, or act not at all, and a stoppage in any one is a stoppage of the whole, at least for a time. thus the several states have sent representatives to assemble together in congress, and they have empowered that body, which thus becomes their centre, and are no other than themselves in representation, to conduct and manage the war, while their constituents at home attend to the domestic cares of the country, their internal legislation, their farms, professions or employments, for it is only by reducing complicated things to method and orderly connection that they can be understood with advantage, or pursued with success. congress, by virtue of this delegation, estimates the expense, and apportions it out to the several parts of the empire according to their several abilities; and here the debate must end, because each state has already had its voice, and the matter has undergone its whole portion of argument, and can no more be altered by any particular state, than a law of any state, after it has passed, can be altered by any individual. for with respect to those things which immediately concern the union, and for which the union was purposely established, and is intended to secure, each state is to the united states what each individual is to the state he lives in. and it is on this grand point, this movement upon one centre, that our existence as a nation, our happiness as a people, and our safety as individuals, depend. it may happen that some state or other may be somewhat over or under rated, but this cannot be much. the experience which has been had upon the matter, has nearly ascertained their several abilities. but even in this case, it can only admit of an appeal to the united states, but cannot authorise any state to make the alteration itself, any more than our internal government can admit an individual to do so in the case of an act of assembly; for if one state can do it, then may another do the same, and the instant this is done the whole is undone. neither is it supposable that any single state can be a judge of all the comparative reasons which may influence the collective body in arranging the quotas of the continent. the circumstances of the several states are frequently varying, occasioned by the accidents of war and commerce, and it will often fall upon some to help others, rather beyond what their exact proportion at another time might be; but even this assistance is as naturally and politically included in the idea of a union as that of any particular assigned proportion; because we know not whose turn it may be next to want assistance, for which reason that state is the wisest which sets the best example. though in matters of bounden duty and reciprocal affection, it is rather a degeneracy from the honesty and ardor of the heart to admit any thing selfish to partake in the government of our conduct, yet in cases where our duty, our affections, and our interest all coincide, it may be of some use to observe their union. the united states will become heir to an extensive quantity of vacant land, and their several titles to shares and quotas thereof, will naturally be adjusted according to their relative quotas, during the war, exclusive of that inability which may unfortunately arise to any state by the enemy's holding possession of a part; but as this is a cold matter of interest, i pass it by, and proceed to my third head, viz., on the manner of collection and expenditure. it has been our error, as well as our misfortune, to blend the affairs of each state, especially in money matters, with those of the united states; whereas it is our case, convenience and interest, to keep them separate. the expenses of the united states for carrying on the war, and the expenses of each state for its own domestic government, are distinct things, and to involve them is a source of perplexity and a cloak for fraud. i love method, because i see and am convinced of its beauty and advantage. it is that which makes all business easy and understood, and without which, everything becomes embarrassed and difficult. there are certain powers which the people of each state have delegated to their legislative and executive bodies, and there are other powers which the people of every state have delegated to congress, among which is that of conducting the war, and, consequently, of managing the expenses attending it; for how else can that be managed, which concerns every state, but by a delegation from each? when a state has furnished its quota, it has an undoubted right to know how it has been applied, and it is as much the duty of congress to inform the state of the one, as it is the duty of the state to provide the other. in the resolution of congress already recited, it is recommended to the several states to lay taxes for raising their quotas of money for the united states, separate from those laid for their own particular use. this is a most necessary point to be observed, and the distinction should follow all the way through. they should be levied, paid and collected, separately, and kept separate in every instance. neither have the civil officers of any state, nor the government of that state, the least right to touch that money which the people pay for the support of their army and the war, any more than congress has to touch that which each state raises for its own use. this distinction will naturally be followed by another. it will occasion every state to examine nicely into the expenses of its civil list, and to regulate, reduce, and bring it into better order than it has hitherto been; because the money for that purpose must be raised apart, and accounted for to the public separately. but while the, monies of both were blended, the necessary nicety was not observed, and the poor soldier, who ought to have been the first, was the last who was thought of. another convenience will be, that the people, by paying the taxes separately, will know what they are for; and will likewise know that those which are for the defence of the country will cease with the war, or soon after. for although, as i have before observed, the war is their own, and for the support of their own rights and the protection of their own property, yet they have the same right to know, that they have to pay, and it is the want of not knowing that is often the cause of dissatisfaction. this regulation of keeping the taxes separate has given rise to a regulation in the office of finance, by which it is directed: "that the receivers shall, at the end of every month, make out an exact account of the monies received by them respectively, during such month, specifying therein the names of the persons from whom the same shall have been received, the dates and the sums; which account they shall respectively cause to be published in one of the newspapers of the state; to the end that every citizen may know how much of the monies collected from him, in taxes, is transmitted to the treasury of the united states for the support of the war; and also, that it may be known what monies have been at the order of the superintendent of finance. it being proper and necessary, that, in a free country, the people should be as fully informed of the administration of their affairs as the nature of things will admit." it is an agreeable thing to see a spirit of order and economy taking place, after such a series of errors and difficulties. a government or an administration, who means and acts honestly, has nothing to fear, and consequently has nothing to conceal; and it would be of use if a monthly or quarterly account was to be published, as well of the expenditures as of the receipts. eight millions of dollars must be husbanded with an exceeding deal of care to make it do, and, therefore, as the management must be reputable, the publication would be serviceable. i have heard of petitions which have been presented to the assembly of this state (and probably the same may have happened in other states) praying to have the taxes lowered. now the only way to keep taxes low is, for the united states to have ready money to go to market with: and though the taxes to be raised for the present year will fall heavy, and there will naturally be some difficulty in paying them, yet the difficulty, in proportion as money spreads about the country, will every day grow less, and in the end we shall save some millions of dollars by it. we see what a bitter, revengeful enemy we have to deal with, and any expense is cheap compared to their merciless paw. we have seen the unfortunate carolineans hunted like partridges on the mountains, and it is only by providing means for our defence, that we shall be kept from the same condition. when we think or talk about taxes, we ought to recollect that we lie down in peace and sleep in safety; that we can follow our farms or stores or other occupations, in prosperous tranquillity; and that these inestimable blessings are procured to us by the taxes that we pay. in this view, our taxes are properly our insurance money; they are what we pay to be made safe, and, in strict policy, are the best money we can lay out. it was my intention to offer some remarks on the impost law of five per cent. recommended by congress, and to be established as a fund for the payment of the loan-office certificates, and other debts of the united states; but i have already extended my piece beyond my intention. and as this fund will make our system of finance complete, and is strictly just, and consequently requires nothing but honesty to do it, there needs but little to be said upon it. common sense. philadelphia, march , . the crisis. xi. on the present state of news. since the arrival of two, if not three packets in quick succession, at new york, from england, a variety of unconnected news has circulated through the country, and afforded as great a variety of speculation. that something is the matter in the cabinet and councils of our enemies, on the other side of the water, is certain--that they have run their length of madness, and are under the necessity of changing their measures may easily be seen into; but to what this change of measures may amount, or how far it may correspond with our interest, happiness and duty, is yet uncertain; and from what we have hitherto experienced, we have too much reason to suspect them in every thing. i do not address this publication so much to the people of america as to the british ministry, whoever they may be, for if it is their intention to promote any kind of negotiation, it is proper they should know beforehand, that the united states have as much honor as bravery; and that they are no more to be seduced from their alliance than their allegiance; that their line of politics is formed and not dependent, like that of their enemy, on chance and accident. on our part, in order to know, at any time, what the british government will do, we have only to find out what they ought not to do, and this last will be their conduct. forever changing and forever wrong; too distant from america to improve in circumstances, and too unwise to foresee them; scheming without principle, and executing without probability, their whole line of management has hitherto been blunder and baseness. every campaign has added to their loss, and every year to their disgrace; till unable to go on, and ashamed to go back, their politics have come to a halt, and all their fine prospects to a halter. could our affections forgive, or humanity forget the wounds of an injured country--we might, under the influence of a momentary oblivion, stand still and laugh. but they are engraven where no amusement can conceal them, and of a kind for which there is no recompense. can ye restore to us the beloved dead? can ye say to the grave, give up the murdered? can ye obliterate from our memories those who are no more? think not then to tamper with our feelings by an insidious contrivance, nor suffocate our humanity by seducing us to dishonor. in march , i published part of the crisis, no. viii., in the newspapers, but did not conclude it in the following papers, and the remainder has lain by me till the present day. there appeared about that time some disposition in the british cabinet to cease the further prosecution of the war, and as i had formed my opinion that whenever such a design should take place, it would be accompanied by a dishonorable proposition to america, respecting france, i had suppressed the remainder of that number, not to expose the baseness of any such proposition. but the arrival of the next news from england, declared her determination to go on with the war, and consequently as the political object i had then in view was not become a subject, it was unnecessary in me to bring it forward, which is the reason it was never published. the matter which i allude to in the unpublished part, i shall now make a quotation of, and apply it as the more enlarged state of things, at this day, shall make convenient or necessary. it was as follows: "by the speeches which have appeared from the british parliament, it is easy to perceive to what impolitic and imprudent excesses their passions and prejudices have, in every instance, carried them during the present war. provoked at the upright and honorable treaty between america and france, they imagined that nothing more was necessary to be done to prevent its final ratification, than to promise, through the agency of their commissioners (carlisle, eden, and johnstone) a repeal of their once offensive acts of parliament. the vanity of the conceit, was as unpardonable as the experiment was impolitic. and so convinced am i of their wrong ideas of america, that i shall not wonder, if, in their last stage of political frenzy, they propose to her to break her alliance with france, and enter into one with them. such a proposition, should it ever be made, and it has been already more than once hinted at in parliament, would discover such a disposition to perfidiousness, and such disregard of honor and morals, as would add the finishing vice to national corruption.--i do not mention this to put america on the watch, but to put england on her guard, that she do not, in the looseness of her heart, envelop in disgrace every fragment of reputation."--thus far the quotation. by the complection of some part of the news which has transpired through the new york papers, it seems probable that this insidious era in the british politics is beginning to make its appearance. i wish it may not; for that which is a disgrace to human nature, throws something of a shade over all the human character, and each individual feels his share of the wound that is given to the whole. the policy of britain has ever been to divide america in some way or other. in the beginning of the dispute, she practised every art to prevent or destroy the union of the states, well knowing that could she once get them to stand singly, she could conquer them unconditionally. failing in this project in america, she renewed it in europe; and, after the alliance had taken place, she made secret offers to france to induce her to give up america; and what is still more extraordinary, she at the same time made propositions to dr. franklin, then in paris, the very court to which she was secretly applying, to draw off america from france. but this is not all. on the th of september, , the british court, through their secretary, lord weymouth, made application to the marquis d'almadovar, the spanish ambassador at london, to "ask the mediation," for these were the words, of the court of spain, for the purpose of negotiating a peace with france, leaving america (as i shall hereafter show) out of the question. spain readily offered her mediation, and likewise the city of madrid as the place of conference, but withal, proposed, that the united states of america should be invited to the treaty, and considered as independent during the time the business was negotiating. but this was not the view of england. she wanted to draw france from the war, that she might uninterruptedly pour out all her force and fury upon america; and being disappointed in this plan, as well through the open and generous conduct of spain, as the determination of france, she refused the mediation which she had solicited. i shall now give some extracts from the justifying memorial of the spanish court, in which she has set the conduct and character of britain, with respect to america, in a clear and striking point of light. the memorial, speaking of the refusal of the british court to meet in conference with commissioners from the united states, who were to be considered as independent during the time of the conference, says, "it is a thing very extraordinary and even ridiculous, that the court of london, who treats the colonies as independent, not only in acting, but of right, during the war, should have a repugnance to treat them as such only in acting during a truce, or suspension of hostilities. the convention of saratoga; the reputing general burgoyne as a lawful prisoner, in order to suspend his trial; the exchange and liberation of other prisoners made from the colonies; the having named commissioners to go and supplicate the americans, at their own doors, request peace of them, and treat with them and the congress: and, finally, by a thousand other acts of this sort, authorized by the court of london, which have been, and are true signs of the acknowledgment of their independence. "in aggravation of all the foregoing, at the same time the british cabinet answered the king of spain in the terms already mentioned, they were insinuating themselves at the court of france by means of secret emissaries, and making very great offers to her, to abandon the colonies and make peace with england. but there is yet more; for at this same time the english ministry were treating, by means of another certain emissary, with dr. franklin, minister plenipotentiary from the colonies, residing at paris, to whom they made various proposals to disunite them from france, and accommodate matters with england. "from what has been observed, it evidently follows, that the whole of the british politics was, to disunite the two courts of paris and madrid, by means of the suggestions and offers which she separately made to them; and also to separate the colonies from their treaties and engagements entered into with france, and induce them to arm against the house of bourbon, or more probably to oppress them when they found, from breaking their engagements, that they stood alone and without protection. "this, therefore, is the net they laid for the american states; that is to say, to tempt them with flattering and very magnificent promises to come to an accommodation with them, exclusive of any intervention of spain or france, that the british ministry might always remain the arbiters of the fate of the colonies. but the catholic king (the king of spain) faithful on the one part of the engagements which bind him to the most christian king (the king of france) his nephew; just and upright on the other, to his own subjects, whom he ought to protect and guard against so many insults; and finally, full of humanity and compassion for the americans and other individuals who suffer in the present war; he is determined to pursue and prosecute it, and to make all the efforts in his power, until he can obtain a solid and permanent peace, with full and satisfactory securities that it shall be observed." thus far the memorial; a translation of which into english, may be seen in full, under the head of state papers, in the annual register, for . the extracts i have here given, serve to show the various endeavors and contrivances of the enemy, to draw france from her connection with america, and to prevail on her to make a separate peace with england, leaving america totally out of the question, and at the mercy of a merciless, unprincipled enemy. the opinion, likewise, which spain has formed of the british cabinet's character for meanness and perfidiousness, is so exactly the opinion of america respecting it, that the memorial, in this instance, contains our own statements and language; for people, however remote, who think alike, will unavoidably speak alike. thus we see the insidious use which britain endeavored to make of the propositions of peace under the mediation of spain. i shall now proceed to the second proposition under the mediation of the emperor of germany and the empress of russia; the general outline of which was, that a congress of the several powers at war should meet at vienna, in , to settle preliminaries of peace. i could wish myself at liberty to make use of all the information which i am possessed of on this subject, but as there is a delicacy in the matter, i do not conceive it prudent, at least at present, to make references and quotations in the same manner as i have done with respect to the mediation of spain, who published the whole proceedings herself; and therefore, what comes from me, on this part of the business, must rest on my own credit with the public, assuring them, that when the whole proceedings, relative to the proposed congress of vienna shall appear, they will find my account not only true, but studiously moderate. we know at the time this mediation was on the carpet, the expectation of the british king and ministry ran high with respect to the conquest of america. the english packet which was taken with the mail on board, and carried into l'orient, in france, contained letters from lord g. germaine to sir henry clinton, which expressed in the fullest terms the ministerial idea of a total conquest. copies of those letters were sent to congress and published in the newspapers of last year. colonel [john] laurens brought over the originals, some of which, signed in the handwriting of the then secretary, germaine, are now in my possession. filled with these high ideas, nothing could be more insolent towards america than the language of the british court on the proposed mediation. a peace with france and spain she anxiously solicited; but america, as before, was to be left to her mercy, neither would she hear any proposition for admitting an agent from the united states into the congress of vienna. on the other hand, france, with an open, noble and manly determination, and a fidelity of a good ally, would hear no proposition for a separate peace, nor even meet in congress at vienna, without an agent from america: and likewise that the independent character of the united states, represented by the agent, should be fully and unequivocally defined and settled before any conference should be entered on. the reasoning of the court of france on the several propositions of the two imperial courts, which relate to us, is rather in the style of an american than an ally, and she advocated the cause of america as if she had been america herself.--thus the second mediation, like the first, proved ineffectual. but since that time, a reverse of fortune has overtaken the british arms, and all their high expectations are dashed to the ground. the noble exertions to the southward under general [nathaniel] greene; the successful operations of the allied arms in the chesapeake; the loss of most of their islands in the west indies, and minorca in the mediterranean; the persevering spirit of spain against gibraltar; the expected capture of jamaica; the failure of making a separate peace with holland, and the expense of an hundred millions sterling, by which all these fine losses were obtained, have read them a loud lesson of disgraceful misfortune and necessity has called on them to change their ground. in this situation of confusion and despair, their present councils have no fixed character. it is now the hurricane months of british politics. every day seems to have a storm of its own, and they are scudding under the bare poles of hope. beaten, but not humble; condemned, but not penitent; they act like men trembling at fate and catching at a straw. from this convulsion, in the entrails of their politics, it is more than probable, that the mountain groaning in labor, will bring forth a mouse, as to its size, and a monster in its make. they will try on america the same insidious arts they tried on france and spain. we sometimes experience sensations to which language is not equal. the conception is too bulky to be born alive, and in the torture of thinking, we stand dumb. our feelings, imprisoned by their magnitude, find no way out--and, in the struggle of expression, every finger tries to be a tongue. the machinery of the body seems too little for the mind, and we look about for helps to show our thoughts by. such must be the sensation of america, whenever britain, teeming with corruption, shall propose to her to sacrifice her faith. but, exclusive of the wickedness, there is a personal offence contained in every such attempt. it is calling us villains: for no man asks the other to act the villain unless he believes him inclined to be one. no man attempts to seduce the truly honest woman. it is the supposed looseness of her mind that starts the thoughts of seduction, and he who offers it calls her a prostitute. our pride is always hurt by the same propositions which offend our principles; for when we are shocked at the crime, we are wounded by the suspicion of our compliance. could i convey a thought that might serve to regulate the public mind, i would not make the interest of the alliance the basis of defending it. all the world are moved by interest, and it affords them nothing to boast of. but i would go a step higher, and defend it on the ground of honor and principle. that our public affairs have flourished under the alliance--that it was wisely made, and has been nobly executed--that by its assistance we are enabled to preserve our country from conquest, and expel those who sought our destruction--that it is our true interest to maintain it unimpaired, and that while we do so no enemy can conquer us, are matters which experience has taught us, and the common good of ourselves, abstracted from principles of faith and honor, would lead us to maintain the connection. but over and above the mere letter of the alliance, we have been nobly and generously treated, and have had the same respect and attention paid to us, as if we had been an old established country. to oblige and be obliged is fair work among mankind, and we want an opportunity of showing to the world that we are a people sensible of kindness and worthy of confidence. character is to us, in our present circumstances, of more importance than interest. we are a young nation, just stepping upon the stage of public life, and the eye of the world is upon us to see how we act. we have an enemy who is watching to destroy our reputation, and who will go any length to gain some evidence against us, that may serve to render our conduct suspected, and our character odious; because, could she accomplish this, wicked as it is, the world would withdraw from us, as from a people not to be trusted, and our task would then become difficult. there is nothing which sets the character of a nation in a higher or lower light with others, than the faithfully fulfilling, or perfidiously breaking, of treaties. they are things not to be tampered with: and should britain, which seems very probable, propose to seduce america into such an act of baseness, it would merit from her some mark of unusual detestation. it is one of those extraordinary instances in which we ought not to be contented with the bare negative of congress, because it is an affront on the multitude as well as on the government. it goes on the supposition that the public are not honest men, and that they may be managed by contrivance, though they cannot be conquered by arms. but, let the world and britain know, that we are neither to be bought nor sold; that our mind is great and fixed; our prospect clear; and that we will support our character as firmly as our independence. but i will go still further; general conway, who made the motion, in the british parliament, for discontinuing offensive war in america, is a gentleman of an amiable character. we have no personal quarrel with him. but he feels not as we feel; he is not in our situation, and that alone, without any other explanation, is enough. the british parliament suppose they have many friends in america, and that, when all chance of conquest is over, they will be able to draw her from her alliance with france. now, if i have any conception of the human heart, they will fail in this more than in any thing that they have yet tried. this part of the business is not a question of policy only, but of honor and honesty; and the proposition will have in it something so visibly low and base, that their partisans, if they have any, will be ashamed of it. men are often hurt by a mean action who are not startled at a wicked one, and this will be such a confession of inability, such a declaration of servile thinking, that the scandal of it will ruin all their hopes. in short, we have nothing to do but to go on with vigor and determination. the enemy is yet in our country. they hold new york, charleston, and savannah, and the very being in those places is an offence, and a part of offensive war, and until they can be driven from them, or captured in them, it would be folly in us to listen to an idle tale. i take it for granted that the british ministry are sinking under the impossibility of carrying on the war. let them then come to a fair and open peace with france, spain, holland and america, in the manner they ought to do; but until then, we can have nothing to say to them. common sense. philadelphia, may , . a supernumerary crisis to sir guy carleton. it is the nature of compassion to associate with misfortune; and i address this to you in behalf even of an enemy, a captain in the british service, now on his way to the headquarters of the american army, and unfortunately doomed to death for a crime not his own. a sentence so extraordinary, an execution so repugnant to every human sensation, ought never to be told without the circumstances which produced it: and as the destined victim is yet in existence, and in your hands rests his life or death, i shall briefly state the case, and the melancholy consequence. captain huddy, of the jersey militia, was attacked in a small fort on tom's river, by a party of refugees in the british pay and service, was made prisoner, together with his company, carried to new york and lodged in the provost of that city: about three weeks after which, he was taken out of the provost down to the water-side, put into a boat, and brought again upon the jersey shore, and there, contrary to the practice of all nations but savages, was hung up on a tree, and left hanging till found by our people who took him down and buried him. the inhabitants of that part of the country where the murder was committed, sent a deputation to general washington with a full and certified statement of the fact. struck, as every human breast must be, with such brutish outrage, and determined both to punish and prevent it for the future, the general represented the case to general clinton, who then commanded, and demanded that the refugee officer who ordered and attended the execution, and whose name is lippencott, should be delivered up as a murderer; and in case of refusal, that the person of some british officer should suffer in his stead. the demand, though not refused, has not been complied with; and the melancholy lot (not by selection, but by casting lots) has fallen upon captain asgill, of the guards, who, as i have already mentioned, is on his way from lancaster to camp, a martyr to the general wickedness of the cause he engaged in, and the ingratitude of those whom he served. the first reflection which arises on this black business is, what sort of men must englishmen be, and what sort of order and discipline do they preserve in their army, when in the immediate place of their headquarters, and under the eye and nose of their commander-in-chief, a prisoner can be taken at pleasure from his confinement, and his death made a matter of sport. the history of the most savage indians does not produce instances exactly of this kind. they, at least, have a formality in their punishments. with them it is the horridness of revenge, but with your army it is a still greater crime, the horridness of diversion. the british generals who have succeeded each other, from the time of general gage to yourself, have all affected to speak in language that they have no right to. in their proclamations, their addresses, their letters to general washington, and their supplications to congress (for they deserve no other name) they talk of british honor, british generosity, and british clemency, as if those things were matters of fact; whereas, we whose eyes are open, who speak the same language with yourselves, many of whom were born on the same spot with you, and who can no more be mistaken in your words than in your actions, can declare to all the world, that so far as our knowledge goes, there is not a more detestable character, nor a meaner or more barbarous enemy, than the present british one. with us, you have forfeited all pretensions to reputation, and it is only by holding you like a wild beast, afraid of your keepers, that you can be made manageable. but to return to the point in question. though i can think no man innocent who has lent his hand to destroy the country which he did not plant, and to ruin those that he could not enslave, yet, abstracted from all ideas of right and wrong on the original question, captain asgill, in the present case, is not the guilty man. the villain and the victim are here separated characters. you hold the one and we the other. you disown, or affect to disown and reprobate the conduct of lippincut, yet you give him a sanctuary; and by so doing you as effectually become the executioner of asgill, as if you had put the rope on his neck, and dismissed him from the world. whatever your feelings on this interesting occasion may be are best known to yourself. within the grave of your own mind lies buried the fate of asgill. he becomes the corpse of your will, or the survivor of your justice. deliver up the one, and you save the other; withhold the one, and the other dies by your choice. on our part the case is exceeding plain; an officer has been taken from his confinement and murdered, and the murderer is within your lines. your army has been guilty of a thousand instances of equal cruelty, but they have been rendered equivocal, and sheltered from personal detection. here the crime is fixed; and is one of those extraordinary cases which can neither be denied nor palliated, and to which the custom of war does not apply; for it never could be supposed that such a brutal outrage would ever be committed. it is an original in the history of civilized barbarians, and is truly british. on your part you are accountable to us for the personal safety of the prisoners within your walls. here can be no mistake; they can neither be spies nor suspected as such; your security is not endangered, nor your operations subjected to miscarriage, by men immured within a dungeon. they differ in every circumstance from men in the field, and leave no pretence for severity of punishment. but if to the dismal condition of captivity with you must be added the constant apprehensions of death; if to be imprisoned is so nearly to be entombed; and if, after all, the murderers are to be protected, and thereby the crime encouraged, wherein do you differ from [american] indians either in conduct or character? we can have no idea of your honor, or your justice, in any future transaction, of what nature it may be, while you shelter within your lines an outrageous murderer, and sacrifice in his stead an officer of your own. if you have no regard to us, at least spare the blood which it is your duty to save. whether the punishment will be greater on him, who, in this case, innocently dies, or on him whom sad necessity forces to retaliate, is, in the nicety of sensation, an undecided question? it rests with you to prevent the sufferings of both. you have nothing to do but to give up the murderer, and the matter ends. but to protect him, be he who he may, is to patronize his crime, and to trifle it off by frivolous and unmeaning inquiries, is to promote it. there is no declaration you can make, nor promise you can give that will obtain credit. it is the man and not the apology that is demanded. you see yourself pressed on all sides to spare the life of your own officer, for die he will if you withhold justice. the murder of captain huddy is an offence not to be borne with, and there is no security which we can have, that such actions or similar ones shall not be repeated, but by making the punishment fall upon yourselves. to destroy the last security of captivity, and to take the unarmed, the unresisting prisoner to private and sportive execution, is carrying barbarity too high for silence. the evil must be put an end to; and the choice of persons rests with you. but if your attachment to the guilty is stronger than to the innocent, you invent a crime that must destroy your character, and if the cause of your king needs to be so supported, for ever cease, sir, to torture our remembrance with the wretched phrases of british honor, british generosity and british clemency. from this melancholy circumstance, learn, sir, a lesson of morality. the refugees are men whom your predecessors have instructed in wickedness, the better to fit them to their master's purpose. to make them useful, they have made them vile, and the consequence of their tutored villany is now descending on the heads of their encouragers. they have been trained like hounds to the scent of blood, and cherished in every species of dissolute barbarity. their ideas of right and wrong are worn away in the constant habitude of repeated infamy, till, like men practised in execution, they feel not the value of another's life. the task before you, though painful, is not difficult; give up the murderer, and save your officer, as the first outset of a necessary reformation. common sense. philadelphia may , . the crisis. xii. to the earl of shelburne. my lord,--a speech, which has been printed in several of the british and new york newspapers, as coming from your lordship, in answer to one from the duke of richmond, of the th of july last, contains expressions and opinions so new and singular, and so enveloped in mysterious reasoning, that i address this publication to you, for the purpose of giving them a free and candid examination. the speech i allude to is in these words: "his lordship said, it had been mentioned in another place, that he had been guilty of inconsistency. to clear himself of this, he asserted that he still held the same principles in respect to american independence which he at first imbibed. he had been, and yet was of opinion, whenever the parliament of great britain acknowledges that point, the sun of england's glory is set forever. such were the sentiments he possessed on a former day, and such the sentiments he continued to hold at this hour. it was the opinion of lord chatham, as well as many other able statesmen. other noble lords, however, think differently, and as the majority of the cabinet support them, he acquiesced in the measure, dissenting from the idea; and the point is settled for bringing the matter into the full discussion of parliament, where it will be candidly, fairly, and impartially debated. the independence of america would end in the ruin of england; and that a peace patched up with france, would give that proud enemy the means of yet trampling on this country. the sun of england's glory he wished not to see set forever; he looked for a spark at least to be left, which might in time light us up to a new day. but if independence was to be granted, if parliament deemed that measure prudent, he foresaw, in his own mind, that england was undone. he wished to god that he had been deputed to congress, that be might plead the cause of that country as well as of this, and that he might exercise whatever powers he possessed as an orator, to save both from ruin, in a conviction to congress, that, if their independence was signed, their liberties were gone forever. "peace, his lordship added, was a desirable object, but it must be an honorable peace, and not an humiliating one, dictated by france, or insisted on by america. it was very true, that this kingdom was not in a flourishing state, it was impoverished by war. but if we were not rich, it was evident that france was poor. if we were straitened in our finances, the enemy were exhausted in their resources. this was a great empire; it abounded with brave men, who were able and willing to fight in a common cause; the language of humiliation should not, therefore, be the language of great britain. his lordship said, that he was not afraid nor ashamed of those expressions going to america. there were numbers, great numbers there, who were of the same way of thinking, in respect to that country being dependent on this, and who, with his lordship, perceived ruin and independence linked together." thus far the speech; on which i remark--that his lordship is a total stranger to the mind and sentiments of america; that he has wrapped himself up in fond delusion, that something less than independence, may, under his administration, be accepted; and he wishes himself sent to congress, to prove the most extraordinary of all doctrines, which is, that independence, the sublimest of all human conditions, is loss of liberty. in answer to which we may say, that in order to know what the contrary word dependence means, we have only to look back to those years of severe humiliation, when the mildest of all petitions could obtain no other notice than the haughtiest of all insults; and when the base terms of unconditional submission were demanded, or undistinguishable destruction threatened. it is nothing to us that the ministry have been changed, for they may be changed again. the guilt of a government is the crime of a whole country; and the nation that can, though but for a moment, think and act as england has done, can never afterwards be believed or trusted. there are cases in which it is as impossible to restore character to life, as it is to recover the dead. it is a phoenix that can expire but once, and from whose ashes there is no resurrection. some offences are of such a slight composition, that they reach no further than the temper, and are created or cured by a thought. but the sin of england has struck the heart of america, and nature has not left in our power to say we can forgive. your lordship wishes for an opportunity to plead before congress the cause of england and america, and to save, as you say, both from ruin. that the country, which, for more than seven years has sought our destruction, should now cringe to solicit our protection, is adding the wretchedness of disgrace to the misery of disappointment; and if england has the least spark of supposed honor left, that spark must be darkened by asking, and extinguished by receiving, the smallest favor from america; for the criminal who owes his life to the grace and mercy of the injured, is more executed by living, than he who dies. but a thousand pleadings, even from your lordship, can have no effect. honor, interest, and every sensation of the heart, would plead against you. we are a people who think not as you think; and what is equally true, you cannot feel as we feel. the situations of the two countries are exceedingly different. ours has been the seat of war; yours has seen nothing of it. the most wanton destruction has been committed in our sight; the most insolent barbarity has been acted on our feelings. we can look round and see the remains of burnt and destroyed houses, once the fair fruit of hard industry, and now the striking monuments of british brutality. we walk over the dead whom we loved, in every part of america, and remember by whom they fell. there is scarcely a village but brings to life some melancholy thought, and reminds us of what we have suffered, and of those we have lost by the inhumanity of britain. a thousand images arise to us, which, from situation, you cannot see, and are accompanied by as many ideas which you cannot know; and therefore your supposed system of reasoning would apply to nothing, and all your expectations die of themselves. the question whether england shall accede to the independence of america, and which your lordship says is to undergo a parliamentary discussion, is so very simple, and composed of so few cases, that it scarcely needs a debate. it is the only way out of an expensive and ruinous war, which has no object, and without which acknowledgment there can be no peace. but your lordship says, the sun of great britain will set whenever she acknowledges the independence of america.--whereas the metaphor would have been strictly just, to have left the sun wholly out of the figure, and have ascribed her not acknowledging it to the influence of the moon. but the expression, if true, is the greatest confession of disgrace that could be made, and furnishes america with the highest notions of sovereign independent importance. mr. wedderburne, about the year , made use of an idea of much the same kind,--relinquish america! says he--what is it but to desire a giant to shrink spontaneously into a dwarf. alas! are those people who call themselves englishmen, of so little internal consequence, that when america is gone, or shuts her eyes upon them, their sun is set, they can shine no more, but grope about in obscurity, and contract into insignificant animals? was america, then, the giant of the empire, and england only her dwarf in waiting! is the case so strangely altered, that those who once thought we could not live without them, are now brought to declare that they cannot exist without us? will they tell to the world, and that from their first minister of state, that america is their all in all; that it is by her importance only that they can live, and breathe, and have a being? will they, who long since threatened to bring us to their feet, bow themselves to ours, and own that without us they are not a nation? are they become so unqualified to debate on independence, that they have lost all idea of it themselves, and are calling to the rocks and mountains of america to cover their insignificance? or, if america is lost, is it manly to sob over it like a child for its rattle, and invite the laughter of the world by declarations of disgrace? surely, a more consistent line of conduct would be to bear it without complaint; and to show that england, without america, can preserve her independence, and a suitable rank with other european powers. you were not contented while you had her, and to weep for her now is childish. but lord shelburne thinks something may yet be done. what that something is, or how it is to be accomplished, is a matter in obscurity. by arms there is no hope. the experience of nearly eight years, with the expense of an hundred million pounds sterling, and the loss of two armies, must positively decide that point. besides, the british have lost their interest in america with the disaffected. every part of it has been tried. there is no new scene left for delusion: and the thousands who have been ruined by adhering to them, and have now to quit the settlements which they had acquired, and be conveyed like transports to cultivate the deserts of augustine and nova scotia, has put an end to all further expectations of aid. if you cast your eyes on the people of england, what have they to console themselves with for the millions expended? or, what encouragement is there left to continue throwing good money after bad? america can carry on the war for ten years longer, and all the charges of government included, for less than you can defray the charges of war and government for one year. and i, who know both countries, know well, that the people of america can afford to pay their share of the expense much better than the people of england can. besides, it is their own estates and property, their own rights, liberties and government, that they are defending; and were they not to do it, they would deserve to lose all, and none would pity them. the fault would be their own, and their punishment just. the british army in america care not how long the war lasts. they enjoy an easy and indolent life. they fatten on the folly of one country and the spoils of another; and, between their plunder and their prey, may go home rich. but the case is very different with the laboring farmer, the working tradesman, and the necessitous poor in england, the sweat of whose brow goes day after day to feed, in prodigality and sloth, the army that is robbing both them and us. removed from the eye of that country that supports them, and distant from the government that employs them, they cut and carve for themselves, and there is none to call them to account. but england will be ruined, says lord shelburne, if america is independent. then i say, is england already ruined, for america is already independent: and if lord shelburne will not allow this, he immediately denies the fact which he infers. besides, to make england the mere creature of america, is paying too great a compliment to us, and too little to himself. but the declaration is a rhapsody of inconsistency. for to say, as lord shelburne has numberless times said, that the war against america is ruinous, and yet to continue the prosecution of that ruinous war for the purpose of avoiding ruin, is a language which cannot be understood. neither is it possible to see how the independence of america is to accomplish the ruin of england after the war is over, and yet not affect it before. america cannot be more independent of her, nor a greater enemy to her, hereafter than she now is; nor can england derive less advantages from her than at present: why then is ruin to follow in the best state of the case, and not in the worst? and if not in the worst, why is it to follow at all? that a nation is to be ruined by peace and commerce, and fourteen or fifteen millions a-year less expenses than before, is a new doctrine in politics. we have heard much clamor of national savings and economy; but surely the true economy would be, to save the whole charge of a silly, foolish, and headstrong war; because, compared with this, all other retrenchments are baubles and trifles. but is it possible that lord shelburne can be serious in supposing that the least advantage can be obtained by arms, or that any advantage can be equal to the expense or the danger of attempting it? will not the capture of one army after another satisfy him, must all become prisoners? must england ever be the sport of hope, and the victim of delusion? sometimes our currency was to fail; another time our army was to disband; then whole provinces were to revolt. such a general said this and that; another wrote so and so; lord chatham was of this opinion; and lord somebody else of another. to-day , russians and russian ships of the line were to come; to-morrow the empress was abused without mercy or decency. then the emperor of germany was to be bribed with a million of money, and the king of prussia was to do wonderful things. at one time it was, lo here! and then it was, lo there! sometimes this power, and sometimes that power, was to engage in the war, just as if the whole world was mad and foolish like britain. and thus, from year to year, has every straw been catched at, and every will-with-a-wisp led them a new dance. this year a still newer folly is to take place. lord shelburne wishes to be sent to congress, and he thinks that something may be done. are not the repeated declarations of congress, and which all america supports, that they will not even hear any proposals whatever, until the unconditional and unequivocal independence of america is recognised; are not, i say, these declarations answer enough? but for england to receive any thing from america now, after so many insults, injuries and outrages, acted towards us, would show such a spirit of meanness in her, that we could not but despise her for accepting it. and so far from lord shelburne's coming here to solicit it, it would be the greatest disgrace we could do them to offer it. england would appear a wretch indeed, at this time of day, to ask or owe any thing to the bounty of america. has not the name of englishman blots enough upon it, without inventing more? even lucifer would scorn to reign in heaven by permission, and yet an englishman can creep for only an entrance into america. or, has a land of liberty so many charms, that to be a doorkeeper in it is better than to be an english minister of state? but what can this expected something be? or, if obtained, what can it amount to, but new disgraces, contentions and quarrels? the people of america have for years accustomed themselves to think and speak so freely and contemptuously of english authority, and the inveteracy is so deeply rooted, that a person invested with any authority from that country, and attempting to exercise it here, would have the life of a toad under a harrow. they would look on him as an interloper, to whom their compassion permitted a residence. he would be no more than the mungo of a farce; and if he disliked that, he must set off. it would be a station of degradation, debased by our pity, and despised by our pride, and would place england in a more contemptible situation than any she has yet been in during the war. we have too high an opinion of ourselves, even to think of yielding again the least obedience to outlandish authority; and for a thousand reasons, england would be the last country in the world to yield it to. she has been treacherous, and we know it. her character is gone, and we have seen the funeral. surely she loves to fish in troubled waters, and drink the cup of contention, or she would not now think of mingling her affairs with those of america. it would be like a foolish dotard taking to his arms the bride that despises him, or who has placed on his head the ensigns of her disgust. it is kissing the hand that boxes his ears, and proposing to renew the exchange. the thought is as servile as the war is wicked, and shows the last scene of the drama to be as inconsistent as the first. as america is gone, the only act of manhood is to let her go. your lordship had no hand in the separation, and you will gain no honor by temporising politics. besides, there is something so exceedingly whimsical, unsteady, and even insincere in the present conduct of england, that she exhibits herself in the most dishonorable colors. on the second of august last, general carleton and admiral digby wrote to general washington in these words: "the resolution of the house of commons, of the th of february last, has been placed in your excellency's hands, and intimations given at the same time that further pacific measures were likely to follow. since which, until the present time, we have had no direct communications with england; but a mail is now arrived, which brings us very important information. we are acquainted, sir, by authority, that negotiations for a general peace have already commenced at paris, and that mr. grenville is invested with full powers to treat with all the parties at war, and is now at paris in execution of his commission. and we are further, sir, made acquainted, that his majesty, in order to remove any obstacles to this peace which he so ardently wishes to restore, has commanded his ministers to direct mr. grenville, that the independence of the thirteen united provinces, should be proposed by him in the first instance, instead of making it a condition of a general treaty." now, taking your present measures into view, and comparing them with the declaration in this letter, pray what is the word of your king, or his ministers, or the parliament, good for? must we not look upon you as a confederated body of faithless, treacherous men, whose assurances are fraud, and their language deceit? what opinion can we possibly form of you, but that you are a lost, abandoned, profligate nation, who sport even with your own character, and are to be held by nothing but the bayonet or the halter? to say, after this, that the sun of great britain will be set whenever she acknowledges the independence of america, when the not doing it is the unqualified lie of government, can be no other than the language of ridicule, the jargon of inconsistency. there were thousands in america who predicted the delusion, and looked upon it as a trick of treachery, to take us from our guard, and draw off our attention from the only system of finance, by which we can be called, or deserve to be called, a sovereign, independent people. the fraud, on your part, might be worth attempting, but the sacrifice to obtain it is too high. there are others who credited the assurance, because they thought it impossible that men who had their characters to establish, would begin with a lie. the prosecution of the war by the former ministry was savage and horrid; since which it has been mean, trickish, and delusive. the one went greedily into the passion of revenge, the other into the subtleties of low contrivance; till, between the crimes of both, there is scarcely left a man in america, be he whig or tory, who does not despise or detest the conduct of britain. the management of lord shelburne, whatever may be his views, is a caution to us, and must be to the world, never to regard british assurances. a perfidy so notorious cannot be hid. it stands even in the public papers of new york, with the names of carleton and digby affixed to it. it is a proclamation that the king of england is not to be believed; that the spirit of lying is the governing principle of the ministry. it is holding up the character of the house of commons to public infamy, and warning all men not to credit them. such are the consequences which lord shelburne's management has brought upon his country. after the authorized declarations contained in carleton and digby's letter, you ought, from every motive of honor, policy and prudence, to have fulfilled them, whatever might have been the event. it was the least atonement that you could possibly make to america, and the greatest kindness you could do to yourselves; for you will save millions by a general peace, and you will lose as many by continuing the war. common sense. philadelphia, oct. , . p. s. the manuscript copy of this letter is sent your lordship, by the way of our head-quarters, to new york, inclosing a late pamphlet of mine, addressed to the abbe raynal, which will serve to give your lordship some idea of the principles and sentiments of america. c. s. the crisis. xiii. thoughts on the peace, and probable advantages thereof. "the times that tried men's souls,"* are over--and the greatest and completest revolution the world ever knew, gloriously and happily accomplished. * "these are the times that try men's souls," the crisis no. i. published december, . but to pass from the extremes of danger to safety--from the tumult of war to the tranquillity of peace, though sweet in contemplation, requires a gradual composure of the senses to receive it. even calmness has the power of stunning, when it opens too instantly upon us. the long and raging hurricane that should cease in a moment, would leave us in a state rather of wonder than enjoyment; and some moments of recollection must pass, before we could be capable of tasting the felicity of repose. there are but few instances, in which the mind is fitted for sudden transitions: it takes in its pleasures by reflection and comparison and those must have time to act, before the relish for new scenes is complete. in the present case--the mighty magnitude of the object--the various uncertainties of fate it has undergone--the numerous and complicated dangers we have suffered or escaped--the eminence we now stand on, and the vast prospect before us, must all conspire to impress us with contemplation. to see it in our power to make a world happy--to teach mankind the art of being so--to exhibit, on the theatre of the universe a character hitherto unknown--and to have, as it were, a new creation intrusted to our hands, are honors that command reflection, and can neither be too highly estimated, nor too gratefully received. in this pause then of recollection--while the storm is ceasing, and the long agitated mind vibrating to a rest, let us look back on the scenes we have passed, and learn from experience what is yet to be done. never, i say, had a country so many openings to happiness as this. her setting out in life, like the rising of a fair morning, was unclouded and promising. her cause was good. her principles just and liberal. her temper serene and firm. her conduct regulated by the nicest steps, and everything about her wore the mark of honor. it is not every country (perhaps there is not another in the world) that can boast so fair an origin. even the first settlement of america corresponds with the character of the revolution. rome, once the proud mistress of the universe, was originally a band of ruffians. plunder and rapine made her rich, and her oppression of millions made her great. but america need never be ashamed to tell her birth, nor relate the stages by which she rose to empire. the remembrance, then, of what is past, if it operates rightly, must inspire her with the most laudable of all ambition, that of adding to the fair fame she began with. the world has seen her great in adversity; struggling, without a thought of yielding, beneath accumulated difficulties, bravely, nay proudly, encountering distress, and rising in resolution as the storm increased. all this is justly due to her, for her fortitude has merited the character. let, then, the world see that she can bear prosperity: and that her honest virtue in time of peace, is equal to the bravest virtue in time of war. she is now descending to the scenes of quiet and domestic life. not beneath the cypress shade of disappointment, but to enjoy in her own land, and under her own vine, the sweet of her labors, and the reward of her toil.--in this situation, may she never forget that a fair national reputation is of as much importance as independence. that it possesses a charm that wins upon the world, and makes even enemies civil. that it gives a dignity which is often superior to power, and commands reverence where pomp and splendor fail. it would be a circumstance ever to be lamented and never to be forgotten, were a single blot, from any cause whatever, suffered to fall on a revolution, which to the end of time must be an honor to the age that accomplished it: and which has contributed more to enlighten the world, and diffuse a spirit of freedom and liberality among mankind, than any human event (if this may be called one) that ever preceded it. it is not among the least of the calamities of a long continued war, that it unhinges the mind from those nice sensations which at other times appear so amiable. the continual spectacle of woe blunts the finer feelings, and the necessity of bearing with the sight, renders it familiar. in like manner, are many of the moral obligations of society weakened, till the custom of acting by necessity becomes an apology, where it is truly a crime. yet let but a nation conceive rightly of its character, and it will be chastely just in protecting it. none ever began with a fairer than america and none can be under a greater obligation to preserve it. the debt which america has contracted, compared with the cause she has gained, and the advantages to flow from it, ought scarcely to be mentioned. she has it in her choice to do, and to live as happily as she pleases. the world is in her hands. she has no foreign power to monopolize her commerce, perplex her legislation, or control her prosperity. the struggle is over, which must one day have happened, and, perhaps, never could have happened at a better time.* and instead of a domineering master, she has gained an ally whose exemplary greatness, and universal liberality, have extorted a confession even from her enemies. * that the revolution began at the exact period of time best fitted to the purpose, is sufficiently proved by the event.--but the great hinge on which the whole machine turned, is the union of the states: and this union was naturally produced by the inability of any one state to support itself against any foreign enemy without the assistance of the rest. had the states severally been less able than they were when the war began, their united strength would not have been equal to the undertaking, and they must in all human probability have failed.--and, on the other hand, had they severally been more able, they might not have seen, or, what is more, might not have felt, the necessity of uniting: and, either by attempting to stand alone or in small confederacies, would have been separately conquered. now, as we cannot see a time (and many years must pass away before it can arrive) when the strength of any one state, or several united, can be equal to the whole of the present united states, and as we have seen the extreme difficulty of collectively prosecuting the war to a successful issue, and preserving our national importance in the world, therefore, from the experience we have had, and the knowledge we have gained, we must, unless we make a waste of wisdom, be strongly impressed with the advantage, as well as the necessity of strengthening that happy union which had been our salvation, and without which we should have been a ruined people. while i was writing this note, i cast my eye on the pamphlet, common sense, from which i shall make an extract, as it exactly applies to the case. it is as follows: "i have never met with a man, either in england or america, who has not confessed it as his opinion that a separation between the countries would take place one time or other; and there is no instance in which we have shown less judgment, than in endeavoring to describe what we call the ripeness or fitness of the continent for independence. as all men allow the measure, and differ only in their opinion of the time, let us, in order to remove mistakes, take a general survey of things, and endeavor, if possible, to find out the very time. but we need not to go far, the inquiry ceases at once, for, the time has found us. the general concurrence, the glorious union of all things prove the fact. it is not in numbers, but in a union, that our great strength lies. the continent is just arrived at that pitch of strength, in which no single colony is able to support itself, and the whole, when united, can accomplish the matter; and either more or less than this, might be fatal in its effects." with the blessings of peace, independence, and an universal commerce, the states, individually and collectively, will have leisure and opportunity to regulate and establish their domestic concerns, and to put it beyond the power of calumny to throw the least reflection on their honor. character is much easier kept than recovered, and that man, if any such there be, who, from sinister views, or littleness of soul, lends unseen his hand to injure it, contrives a wound it will never be in his power to heal. as we have established an inheritance for posterity, let that inheritance descend, with every mark of an honorable conveyance. the little it will cost, compared with the worth of the states, the greatness of the object, and the value of the national character, will be a profitable exchange. but that which must more forcibly strike a thoughtful, penetrating mind, and which includes and renders easy all inferior concerns, is the union of the states. on this our great national character depends. it is this which must give us importance abroad and security at home. it is through this only that we are, or can be, nationally known in the world; it is the flag of the united states which renders our ships and commerce safe on the seas, or in a foreign port. our mediterranean passes must be obtained under the same style. all our treaties, whether of alliance, peace, or commerce, are formed under the sovereignty of the united states, and europe knows us by no other name or title. the division of the empire into states is for our own convenience, but abroad this distinction ceases. the affairs of each state are local. they can go no further than to itself. and were the whole worth of even the richest of them expended in revenue, it would not be sufficient to support sovereignty against a foreign attack. in short, we have no other national sovereignty than as united states. it would even be fatal for us if we had--too expensive to be maintained, and impossible to be supported. individuals, or individual states, may call themselves what they please; but the world, and especially the world of enemies, is not to be held in awe by the whistling of a name. sovereignty must have power to protect all the parts that compose and constitute it: and as united states we are equal to the importance of the title, but otherwise we are not. our union, well and wisely regulated and cemented, is the cheapest way of being great--the easiest way of being powerful, and the happiest invention in government which the circumstances of america can admit of.--because it collects from each state, that which, by being inadequate, can be of no use to it, and forms an aggregate that serves for all. the states of holland are an unfortunate instance of the effects of individual sovereignty. their disjointed condition exposes them to numerous intrigues, losses, calamities, and enemies; and the almost impossibility of bringing their measures to a decision, and that decision into execution, is to them, and would be to us, a source of endless misfortune. it is with confederated states as with individuals in society; something must be yielded up to make the whole secure. in this view of things we gain by what we give, and draw an annual interest greater than the capital.--i ever feel myself hurt when i hear the union, that great palladium of our liberty and safety, the least irreverently spoken of. it is the most sacred thing in the constitution of america, and that which every man should be most proud and tender of. our citizenship in the united states is our national character. our citizenship in any particular state is only our local distinction. by the latter we are known at home, by the former to the world. our great title is americans--our inferior one varies with the place. so far as my endeavors could go, they have all been directed to conciliate the affections, unite the interests, and draw and keep the mind of the country together; and the better to assist in this foundation work of the revolution, i have avoided all places of profit or office, either in the state i live in, or in the united states; kept myself at a distance from all parties and party connections, and even disregarded all private and inferior concerns: and when we take into view the great work which we have gone through, and feel, as we ought to feel, the just importance of it, we shall then see, that the little wranglings and indecent contentions of personal parley, are as dishonorable to our characters, as they are injurious to our repose. it was the cause of america that made me an author. the force with which it struck my mind and the dangerous condition the country appeared to me in, by courting an impossible and an unnatural reconciliation with those who were determined to reduce her, instead of striking out into the only line that could cement and save her, a declaration of independence, made it impossible for me, feeling as i did, to be silent: and if, in the course of more than seven years, i have rendered her any service, i have likewise added something to the reputation of literature, by freely and disinterestedly employing it in the great cause of mankind, and showing that there may be genius without prostitution. independence always appeared to me practicable and probable, provided the sentiment of the country could be formed and held to the object: and there is no instance in the world, where a people so extended, and wedded to former habits of thinking, and under such a variety of circumstances, were so instantly and effectually pervaded, by a turn in politics, as in the case of independence; and who supported their opinion, undiminished, through such a succession of good and ill fortune, till they crowned it with success. but as the scenes of war are closed, and every man preparing for home and happier times, i therefore take my leave of the subject. i have most sincerely followed it from beginning to end, and through all its turns and windings: and whatever country i may hereafter be in, i shall always feel an honest pride at the part i have taken and acted, and a gratitude to nature and providence for putting it in my power to be of some use to mankind. common sense. philadelphia, april , . a supernumerary crisis: to the people of america. in "_rivington's new york gazette_," of december th, is a publication, under the appearance of a letter from london, dated september th; and is on a subject which demands the attention of the united states. the public will remember that a treaty of commerce between the united states and england was set on foot last spring, and that until the said treaty could be completed, a bill was brought into the british parliament by the then chancellor of the exchequer, mr. pitt, to admit and legalize (as the case then required) the commerce of the united states into the british ports and dominions. but neither the one nor the other has been completed. the commercial treaty is either broken off, or remains as it began; and the bill in parliament has been thrown aside. and in lieu thereof, a selfish system of english politics has started up, calculated to fetter the commerce of america, by engrossing to england the carrying trade of the american produce to the west india islands. among the advocates for this last measure is lord sheffield, a member of the british parliament, who has published a pamphlet entitled "observations on the commerce of the american states." the pamphlet has two objects; the one is to allure the americans to purchase british manufactures; and the other to spirit up the british parliament to prohibit the citizens of the united states from trading to the west india islands. viewed in this light, the pamphlet, though in some parts dexterously written, is an absurdity. it offends, in the very act of endeavoring to ingratiate; and his lordship, as a politician, ought not to have suffered the two objects to have appeared together. the latter alluded to, contains extracts from the pamphlet, with high encomiums on lord sheffield, for laboriously endeavoring (as the letter styles it) "to show the mighty advantages of retaining the carrying trade." since the publication of this pamphlet in england, the commerce of the united states to the west indies, in american vessels, has been prohibited; and all intercourse, except in british bottoms, the property of and navigated by british subjects, cut off. that a country has a right to be as foolish as it pleases, has been proved by the practice of england for many years past: in her island situation, sequestered from the world, she forgets that her whispers are heard by other nations; and in her plans of politics and commerce she seems not to know, that other votes are necessary besides her own. america would be equally as foolish as britain, were she to suffer so great a degradation on her flag, and such a stroke on the freedom of her commerce, to pass without a balance. we admit the right of any nation to prohibit the commerce of another into its own dominions, where there are no treaties to the contrary; but as this right belongs to one side as well as the other, there is always a way left to bring avarice and insolence to reason. but the ground of security which lord sheffield has chosen to erect his policy upon, is of a nature which ought, and i think must, awaken in every american a just and strong sense of national dignity. lord sheffield appears to be sensible, that in advising the british nation and parliament to engross to themselves so great a part of the carrying trade of america, he is attempting a measure which cannot succeed, if the politics of the united states be properly directed to counteract the assumption. but, says he, in his pamphlet, "it will be a long time before the american states can be brought to act as a nation, neither are they to be feared as such by us." what is this more or less than to tell us, that while we have no national system of commerce, the british will govern our trade by their own laws and proclamations as they please. the quotation discloses a truth too serious to be overlooked, and too mischievous not to be remedied. among other circumstances which led them to this discovery none could operate so effectually as the injudicious, uncandid and indecent opposition made by sundry persons in a certain state, to the recommendations of congress last winter, for an import duty of five per cent. it could not but explain to the british a weakness in the national power of america, and encourage them to attempt restrictions on her trade, which otherwise they would not have dared to hazard. neither is there any state in the union, whose policy was more misdirected to its interest than the state i allude to, because her principal support is the carrying trade, which britain, induced by the want of a well-centred power in the united states to protect and secure, is now attempting to take away. it fortunately happened (and to no state in the union more than the state in question) that the terms of peace were agreed on before the opposition appeared, otherwise, there cannot be a doubt, that if the same idea of the diminished authority of america had occurred to them at that time as has occurred to them since, but they would have made the same grasp at the fisheries, as they have done at the carrying trade. it is surprising that an authority which can be supported with so much ease, and so little expense, and capable of such extensive advantages to the country, should be cavilled at by those whose duty it is to watch over it, and whose existence as a people depends upon it. but this, perhaps, will ever be the case, till some misfortune awakens us into reason, and the instance now before us is but a gentle beginning of what america must expect, unless she guards her union with nicer care and stricter honor. united, she is formidable, and that with the least possible charge a nation can be so; separated, she is a medley of individual nothings, subject to the sport of foreign nations. it is very probable that the ingenuity of commerce may have found out a method to evade and supersede the intentions of the british, in interdicting the trade with the west india islands. the language of both being the same, and their customs well understood, the vessels of one country may, by deception, pass for those of another. but this would be a practice too debasing for a sovereign people to stoop to, and too profligate not to be discountenanced. an illicit trade, under any shape it can be placed, cannot be carried on without a violation of truth. america is now sovereign and independent, and ought to conduct her affairs in a regular style of character. she has the same right to say that no british vessel shall enter ports, or that no british manufactures shall be imported, but in american bottoms, the property of, and navigated by american subjects, as britain has to say the same thing respecting the west indies. or she may lay a duty of ten, fifteen, or twenty shillings per ton (exclusive of other duties) on every british vessel coming from any port of the west indies, where she is not admitted to trade, the said tonnage to continue as long on her side as the prohibition continues on the other. but it is only by acting in union, that the usurpations of foreign nations on the freedom of trade can be counteracted, and security extended to the commerce of america. and when we view a flag, which to the eye is beautiful, and to contemplate its rise and origin inspires a sensation of sublime delight, our national honor must unite with our interest to prevent injury to the one, or insult to the other. common sense. new york, december , . the writings of thomas paine, volume ii. by thomas paine collected and edited by moncure daniel conway - [redactor's note: reprinted from the "the writings of thomas paine volume i" ( - ). the author's notes are preceded by a "*". a table of contents has been added for each part for the convenience of the reader which is not included in the printed edition. notes are at the end of part ii. ] table of contents xiii the rights of man part the first being an answer to mr. burke's attack on the french revolution * editor's introduction * dedication to george washington * preface to the english edition * preface to the french edition * rights of man * miscellaneous chapter * conclusion xiv the rights of man part the second combining principle and practice * french translator's preface * dedication to m. de la fayette * preface * introduction * chapter i of society and civilisation * chapter ii of the origin of the present old governments * chapter iii of the old and new systems of government * chapter iv of constitutions * chapter v ways and means of improving the condition of europe, interspersed with miscellaneous observations * appendix * notes xiii. rights of man. editor's introduction. when thomas paine sailed from america for france, in april, , he was perhaps as happy a man as any in the world. his most intimate friend, jefferson, was minister at paris, and his friend lafayette was the idol of france. his fame had preceded him, and he at once became, in paris, the centre of the same circle of savants and philosophers that had surrounded franklin. his main reason for proceeding at once to paris was that he might submit to the academy of sciences his invention of an iron bridge, and with its favorable verdict he came to england, in september. he at once went to his aged mother at thetford, leaving with a publisher (ridgway), his "prospects on the rubicon." he next made arrangements to patent his bridge, and to construct at rotherham the large model of it exhibited on paddington green, london. he was welcomed in england by leading statesmen, such as lansdowne and fox, and above all by edmund burke, who for some time had him as a guest at beaconsfield, and drove him about in various parts of the country. he had not the slightest revolutionary purpose, either as regarded england or france. towards louis xvi. he felt only gratitude for the services he had rendered america, and towards george iii. he felt no animosity whatever. his four months' sojourn in paris had convinced him that there was approaching a reform of that country after the american model, except that the crown would be preserved, a compromise he approved, provided the throne should not be hereditary. events in france travelled more swiftly than he had anticipated, and paine was summoned by lafayette, condorcet, and others, as an adviser in the formation of a new constitution. such was the situation immediately preceding the political and literary duel between paine and burke, which in the event turned out a tremendous war between royalism and republicanism in europe. paine was, both in france and in england, the inspirer of moderate counsels. samuel rogers relates that in early life he dined at a friend's house in london with thomas paine, when one of the toasts given was the "memory of joshua,"--in allusion to the hebrew leader's conquest of the kings of canaan, and execution of them. paine observed that he would not treat kings like joshua. "i 'm of the scotch parson's opinion," he said, "when he prayed against louis xiv.--`lord, shake him over the mouth of hell, but don't let him drop!'" paine then gave as his toast, "the republic of the world,"--which samuel rogers, aged twenty-nine, noted as a sublime idea. this was paine's faith and hope, and with it he confronted the revolutionary storms which presently burst over france and england. until burke's arraignment of france in his parliamentary speech (february , ), paine had no doubt whatever that he would sympathize with the movement in france, and wrote to him from that country as if conveying glad tidings. burke's "reflections on the revolution in france" appeared november , , and paine at once set himself to answer it. he was then staying at the angel inn, islington. the inn has been twice rebuilt since that time, and from its contents there is preserved only a small image, which perhaps was meant to represent "liberty,"--possibly brought from paris by paine as an ornament for his study. from the angel he removed to a house in harding street, fetter lane. rickman says part first of "rights of man" was finished at versailles, but probably this has reference to the preface only, as i cannot find paine in france that year until april . the book had been printed by johnson, in time for the opening of parliament, in february; but this publisher became frightened after a few copies were out (there is one in the british museum), and the work was transferred to j. s. jordan, fleet street, with a preface sent from paris (not contained in johnson's edition, nor in the american editions). the pamphlet, though sold at the same price as burke's, three shillings, had a vast circulation, and paine gave the proceeds to the constitutional societies which sprang up under his teachings in various parts of the country. soon after appeared burke's "appeal from the new to the old whigs." in this burke quoted a good deal from "rights of man," but replied to it only with exclamation points, saying that the only answer such ideas merited was "criminal justice." paine's part second followed, published february , . in part first paine had mentioned a rumor that burke was a masked pensioner (a charge that will be noticed in connection with its detailed statement in a further publication); and as burke had been formerly arraigned in parliament, while paymaster, for a very questionable proceeding, this charge no doubt hurt a good deal. although the government did not follow burke's suggestion of a prosecution at that time, there is little doubt that it was he who induced the prosecution of part second. before the trial came on, december , , paine was occupying his seat in the french convention, and could only be outlawed. burke humorously remarked to a friend of paine and himself, "we hunt in pairs." the severally representative character and influence of these two men in the revolutionary era, in france and england, deserve more adequate study than they have received. while paine maintained freedom of discussion, burke first proposed criminal prosecution for sentiments by no means libellous (such as paine's part first). while paine was endeavoring to make the movement in france peaceful, burke fomented the league of monarchs against france which maddened its people, and brought on the reign of terror. while paine was endeavoring to preserve the french throne ("phantom" though he believed it), to prevent bloodshed, burke was secretly writing to the queen of france, entreating her not to compromise, and to "trust to the support of foreign armies" ("histoire de france depuis ." henri martin, i., ). while burke thus helped to bring the king and queen to the guillotine, paine pleaded for their lives to the last moment. while paine maintained the right of mankind to improve their condition, burke held that "the awful author of our being is the author of our place in the order of existence; and that, having disposed and marshalled us by a divine tactick, not according to our will, but according to his, he has, in and by that disposition, virtually subjected us to act the part which belongs to the place assigned us." paine was a religious believer in eternal principles; burke held that "political problems do not primarily concern truth or falsehood. they relate to good or evil. what in the result is likely to produce evil is politically false, that which is productive of good politically is true." assuming thus the visionary's right to decide before the result what was "likely to produce evil," burke vigorously sought to kindle war against the french republic which might have developed itself peacefully, while paine was striving for an international congress in europe in the interest of peace. paine had faith in the people, and believed that, if allowed to choose representatives, they would select their best and wisest men; and that while reforming government the people would remain orderly, as they had generally remained in america during the transition from british rule to selfgovernment. burke maintained that if the existing political order were broken up there would be no longer a people, but "a number of vague, loose individuals, and nothing more." "alas!" he exclaims, "they little know how many a weary step is to be taken before they can form themselves into a mass, which has a true personality." for the sake of peace paine wished the revolution to be peaceful as the advance of summer; he used every endeavor to reconcile english radicals to some modus vivendi with the existing order, as he was willing to retain louis xvi. as head of the executive in france: burke resisted every tendency of english statesmanship to reform at home, or to negotiate with the french republic, and was mainly responsible for the king's death and the war that followed between england and france in february, . burke became a royal favorite, paine was outlawed by a prosecution originally proposed by burke. while paine was demanding religious liberty, burke was opposing the removal of penal statutes from unitarians, on the ground that but for those statutes paine might some day set up a church in england. when burke was retiring on a large royal pension, paine was in prison, through the devices of burke's confederate, the american minister in paris. so the two men, as burke said, "hunted in pairs." so far as burke attempts to affirm any principle he is fairly quoted in paine's work, and nowhere misrepresented. as for paine's own ideas, the reader should remember that "rights of man" was the earliest complete statement of republican principles. they were pronounced to be the fundamental principles of the american republic by jefferson, madison, and jackson,-the three presidents who above all others represented the republican idea which paine first allied with american independence. those who suppose that paine did but reproduce the principles of rousseau and locke will find by careful study of his well-weighed language that such is not the case. paine's political principles were evolved out of his early quakerism. he was potential in george fox. the belief that every human soul was the child of god, and capable of direct inspiration from the father of all, without mediator or priestly intervention, or sacramental instrumentality, was fatal to all privilege and rank. the universal fatherhood implied universal brotherhood, or human equality. but the fate of the quakers proved the necessity of protecting the individual spirit from oppression by the majority as well as by privileged classes. for this purpose paine insisted on surrounding the individual right with the security of the declaration of rights, not to be invaded by any government; and would reduce government to an association limited in its operations to the defence of those rights which the individual is unable, alone, to maintain. from the preceding chapter it will be seen that part second of "rights of man" was begun by paine in the spring of . at the close of that year, or early in , he took up his abode with his friend thomas "clio" rickman, at no. upper marylebone street. rickman was a radical publisher; the house remains still a book-binding establishment, and seems little changed since paine therein revised the proofs of part second on a table which rickman marked with a plate, and which is now in possession of mr. edward truelove. as the plate states, paine wrote on the same table other works which appeared in england in . in d. i. eaton published an edition of "rights of man," with a preface purporting to have been written by paine while in luxembourg prison. it is manifestly spurious. the genuine english and french prefaces are given. rights of man being an answer to mr. burke's attack on the french revoloution by thomas paine secretary for foreign affairs to congress in the american war, and author of the works entitled "common sense" and "a letter to abbe raynal" dedication george washington president of the united states of america sir, i present you a small treatise in defence of those principles of freedom which your exemplary virtue hath so eminently contributed to establish. that the rights of man may become as universal as your benevolence can wish, and that you may enjoy the happiness of seeing the new world regenerate the old, is the prayer of sir, your much obliged, and obedient humble servant, thomas paine paine's preface to the english edition from the part mr. burke took in the american revolution, it was natural that i should consider him a friend to mankind; and as our acquaintance commenced on that ground, it would have been more agreeable to me to have had cause to continue in that opinion than to change it. at the time mr. burke made his violent speech last winter in the english parliament against the french revolution and the national assembly, i was in paris, and had written to him but a short time before to inform him how prosperously matters were going on. soon after this i saw his advertisement of the pamphlet he intended to publish: as the attack was to be made in a language but little studied, and less understood in france, and as everything suffers by translation, i promised some of the friends of the revolution in that country that whenever mr. burke's pamphlet came forth, i would answer it. this appeared to me the more necessary to be done, when i saw the flagrant misrepresentations which mr. burke's pamphlet contains; and that while it is an outrageous abuse on the french revolution, and the principles of liberty, it is an imposition on the rest of the world. i am the more astonished and disappointed at this conduct in mr. burke, as (from the circumstances i am going to mention) i had formed other expectations. i had seen enough of the miseries of war, to wish it might never more have existence in the world, and that some other mode might be found out to settle the differences that should occasionally arise in the neighbourhood of nations. this certainly might be done if courts were disposed to set honesty about it, or if countries were enlightened enough not to be made the dupes of courts. the people of america had been bred up in the same prejudices against france, which at that time characterised the people of england; but experience and an acquaintance with the french nation have most effectually shown to the americans the falsehood of those prejudices; and i do not believe that a more cordial and confidential intercourse exists between any two countries than between america and france. when i came to france, in the spring of , the archbishop of thoulouse was then minister, and at that time highly esteemed. i became much acquainted with the private secretary of that minister, a man of an enlarged benevolent heart; and found that his sentiments and my own perfectly agreed with respect to the madness of war, and the wretched impolicy of two nations, like england and france, continually worrying each other, to no other end than that of a mutual increase of burdens and taxes. that i might be assured i had not misunderstood him, nor he me, i put the substance of our opinions into writing and sent it to him; subjoining a request, that if i should see among the people of england, any disposition to cultivate a better understanding between the two nations than had hitherto prevailed, how far i might be authorised to say that the same disposition prevailed on the part of france? he answered me by letter in the most unreserved manner, and that not for himself only, but for the minister, with whose knowledge the letter was declared to be written. i put this letter into the, hands of mr. burke almost three years ago, and left it with him, where it still remains; hoping, and at the same time naturally expecting, from the opinion i had conceived of him, that he would find some opportunity of making good use of it, for the purpose of removing those errors and prejudices which two neighbouring nations, from the want of knowing each other, had entertained, to the injury of both. when the french revolution broke out, it certainly afforded to mr. burke an opportunity of doing some good, had he been disposed to it; instead of which, no sooner did he see the old prejudices wearing away, than he immediately began sowing the seeds of a new inveteracy, as if he were afraid that england and france would cease to be enemies. that there are men in all countries who get their living by war, and by keeping up the quarrels of nations, is as shocking as it is true; but when those who are concerned in the government of a country, make it their study to sow discord and cultivate prejudices between nations, it becomes the more unpardonable. with respect to a paragraph in this work alluding to mr. burke's having a pension, the report has been some time in circulation, at least two months; and as a person is often the last to hear what concerns him the most to know, i have mentioned it, that mr. burke may have an opportunity of contradicting the rumour, if he thinks proper. thomas paine paine's preface to the french edition the astonishment which the french revolution has caused throughout europe should be considered from two different points of view: first as it affects foreign peoples, secondly as it affects their governments. the cause of the french people is that of all europe, or rather of the whole world; but the governments of all those countries are by no means favorable to it. it is important that we should never lose sight of this distinction. we must not confuse the peoples with their governments; especially not the english people with its government. the government of england is no friend of the revolution of france. of this we have sufficient proofs in the thanks given by that weak and witless person, the elector of hanover, sometimes called the king of england, to mr. burke for the insults heaped on it in his book, and in the malevolent comments of the english minister, pitt, in his speeches in parliament. in spite of the professions of sincerest friendship found in the official correspondence of the english government with that of france, its conduct gives the lie to all its declarations, and shows us clearly that it is not a court to be trusted, but an insane court, plunging in all the quarrels and intrigues of europe, in quest of a war to satisfy its folly and countenance its extravagance. the english nation, on the contrary, is very favorably disposed towards the french revolution, and to the progress of liberty in the whole world; and this feeling will become more general in england as the intrigues and artifices of its government are better known, and the principles of the revolution better understood. the french should know that most english newspapers are directly in the pay of government, or, if indirectly connected with it, always under its orders; and that those papers constantly distort and attack the revolution in france in order to deceive the nation. but, as it is impossible long to prevent the prevalence of truth, the daily falsehoods of those papers no longer have the desired effect. to be convinced that the voice of truth has been stifled in england, the world needs only to be told that the government regards and prosecutes as a libel that which it should protect.*[ ] this outrage on morality is called law, and judges are found wicked enough to inflict penalties on truth. the english government presents, just now, a curious phenomenon. seeing that the french and english nations are getting rid of the prejudices and false notions formerly entertained against each other, and which have cost them so much money, that government seems to be placarding its need of a foe; for unless it finds one somewhere, no pretext exists for the enormous revenue and taxation now deemed necessary. therefore it seeks in russia the enemy it has lost in france, and appears to say to the universe, or to say to itself. "if nobody will be so kind as to become my foe, i shall need no more fleets nor armies, and shall be forced to reduce my taxes. the american war enabled me to double the taxes; the dutch business to add more; the nootka humbug gave me a pretext for raising three millions sterling more; but unless i can make an enemy of russia the harvest from wars will end. i was the first to incite turk against russian, and now i hope to reap a fresh crop of taxes." if the miseries of war, and the flood of evils it spreads over a country, did not check all inclination to mirth, and turn laughter into grief, the frantic conduct of the government of england would only excite ridicule. but it is impossible to banish from one's mind the images of suffering which the contemplation of such vicious policy presents. to reason with governments, as they have existed for ages, is to argue with brutes. it is only from the nations themselves that reforms can be expected. there ought not now to exist any doubt that the peoples of france, england, and america, enlightened and enlightening each other, shall henceforth be able, not merely to give the world an example of good government, but by their united influence enforce its practice. (translated from the french) rights of man. part the first being an answer to mr. burke's attack on the french revolution among the incivilities by which nations or individuals provoke and irritate each other, mr. burke's pamphlet on the french revolution is an extraordinary instance. neither the people of france, nor the national assembly, were troubling themselves about the affairs of england, or the english parliament; and that mr. burke should commence an unprovoked attack upon them, both in parliament and in public, is a conduct that cannot be pardoned on the score of manners, nor justified on that of policy. there is scarcely an epithet of abuse to be found in the english language, with which mr. burke has not loaded the french nation and the national assembly. everything which rancour, prejudice, ignorance or knowledge could suggest, is poured forth in the copious fury of near four hundred pages. in the strain and on the plan mr. burke was writing, he might have written on to as many thousands. when the tongue or the pen is let loose in a frenzy of passion, it is the man, and not the subject, that becomes exhausted. hitherto mr. burke has been mistaken and disappointed in the opinions he had formed of the affairs of france; but such is the ingenuity of his hope, or the malignancy of his despair, that it furnishes him with new pretences to go on. there was a time when it was impossible to make mr. burke believe there would be any revolution in france. his opinion then was, that the french had neither spirit to undertake it nor fortitude to support it; and now that there is one, he seeks an escape by condemning it. not sufficiently content with abusing the national assembly, a great part of his work is taken up with abusing dr. price (one of the best-hearted men that lives) and the two societies in england known by the name of the revolution society and the society for constitutional information. dr. price had preached a sermon on the th of november, , being the anniversary of what is called in england the revolution, which took place . mr. burke, speaking of this sermon, says: "the political divine proceeds dogmatically to assert, that by the principles of the revolution, the people of england have acquired three fundamental rights: . to choose our own governors. . to cashier them for misconduct. . to frame a government for ourselves." dr. price does not say that the right to do these things exists in this or in that person, or in this or in that description of persons, but that it exists in the whole; that it is a right resident in the nation. mr. burke, on the contrary, denies that such a right exists in the nation, either in whole or in part, or that it exists anywhere; and, what is still more strange and marvellous, he says: "that the people of england utterly disclaim such a right, and that they will resist the practical assertion of it with their lives and fortunes." that men should take up arms and spend their lives and fortunes, not to maintain their rights, but to maintain they have not rights, is an entirely new species of discovery, and suited to the paradoxical genius of mr. burke. the method which mr. burke takes to prove that the people of england have no such rights, and that such rights do not now exist in the nation, either in whole or in part, or anywhere at all, is of the same marvellous and monstrous kind with what he has already said; for his arguments are that the persons, or the generation of persons, in whom they did exist, are dead, and with them the right is dead also. to prove this, he quotes a declaration made by parliament about a hundred years ago, to william and mary, in these words: "the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons, do, in the name of the people aforesaid" (meaning the people of england then living) "most humbly and faithfully submit themselves, their heirs and posterities, for ever." he quotes a clause of another act of parliament made in the same reign, the terms of which he says, "bind us" (meaning the people of their day), "our heirs and our posterity, to them, their heirs and posterity, to the end of time." mr. burke conceives his point sufficiently established by producing those clauses, which he enforces by saying that they exclude the right of the nation for ever. and not yet content with making such declarations, repeated over and over again, he farther says, "that if the people of england possessed such a right before the revolution" (which he acknowledges to have been the case, not only in england, but throughout europe, at an early period), "yet that the english nation did, at the time of the revolution, most solemnly renounce and abdicate it, for themselves, and for all their posterity, for ever." as mr. burke occasionally applies the poison drawn from his horrid principles, not only to the english nation, but to the french revolution and the national assembly, and charges that august, illuminated and illuminating body of men with the epithet of usurpers, i shall, sans ceremonie, place another system of principles in opposition to his. the english parliament of did a certain thing, which, for themselves and their constituents, they had a right to do, and which it appeared right should be done. but, in addition to this right, which they possessed by delegation, they set up another right by assumption, that of binding and controlling posterity to the end of time. the case, therefore, divides itself into two parts; the right which they possessed by delegation, and the right which they set up by assumption. the first is admitted; but with respect to the second, i reply: there never did, there never will, and there never can, exist a parliament, or any description of men, or any generation of men, in any country, possessed of the right or the power of binding and controlling posterity to the "end of time," or of commanding for ever how the world shall be governed, or who shall govern it; and therefore all such clauses, acts or declarations by which the makers of them attempt to do what they have neither the right nor the power to do, nor the power to execute, are in themselves null and void. every age and generation must be as free to act for itself in all cases as the age and generations which preceded it. the vanity and presumption of governing beyond the grave is the most ridiculous and insolent of all tyrannies. man has no property in man; neither has any generation a property in the generations which are to follow. the parliament or the people of , or of any other period, had no more right to dispose of the people of the present day, or to bind or to control them in any shape whatever, than the parliament or the people of the present day have to dispose of, bind or control those who are to live a hundred or a thousand years hence. every generation is, and must be, competent to all the purposes which its occasions require. it is the living, and not the dead, that are to be accommodated. when man ceases to be, his power and his wants cease with him; and having no longer any participation in the concerns of this world, he has no longer any authority in directing who shall be its governors, or how its government shall be organised, or how administered. i am not contending for nor against any form of government, nor for nor against any party, here or elsewhere. that which a whole nation chooses to do it has a right to do. mr. burke says, no. where, then, does the right exist? i am contending for the rights of the living, and against their being willed away and controlled and contracted for by the manuscript assumed authority of the dead, and mr. burke is contending for the authority of the dead over the rights and freedom of the living. there was a time when kings disposed of their crowns by will upon their death-beds, and consigned the people, like beasts of the field, to whatever successor they appointed. this is now so exploded as scarcely to be remembered, and so monstrous as hardly to be believed. but the parliamentary clauses upon which mr. burke builds his political church are of the same nature. the laws of every country must be analogous to some common principle. in england no parent or master, nor all the authority of parliament, omnipotent as it has called itself, can bind or control the personal freedom even of an individual beyond the age of twenty-one years. on what ground of right, then, could the parliament of , or any other parliament, bind all posterity for ever? those who have quitted the world, and those who have not yet arrived at it, are as remote from each other as the utmost stretch of mortal imagination can conceive. what possible obligation, then, can exist between them--what rule or principle can be laid down that of two nonentities, the one out of existence and the other not in, and who never can meet in this world, the one should control the other to the end of time? in england it is said that money cannot be taken out of the pockets of the people without their consent. but who authorised, or who could authorise, the parliament of to control and take away the freedom of posterity (who were not in existence to give or to withhold their consent) and limit and confine their right of acting in certain cases for ever? a greater absurdity cannot present itself to the understanding of man than what mr. burke offers to his readers. he tells them, and he tells the world to come, that a certain body of men who existed a hundred years ago made a law, and that there does not exist in the nation, nor ever will, nor ever can, a power to alter it. under how many subtilties or absurdities has the divine right to govern been imposed on the credulity of mankind? mr. burke has discovered a new one, and he has shortened his journey to rome by appealing to the power of this infallible parliament of former days, and he produces what it has done as of divine authority, for that power must certainly be more than human which no human power to the end of time can alter. but mr. burke has done some service--not to his cause, but to his country--by bringing those clauses into public view. they serve to demonstrate how necessary it is at all times to watch against the attempted encroachment of power, and to prevent its running to excess. it is somewhat extraordinary that the offence for which james ii. was expelled, that of setting up power by assumption, should be re-acted, under another shape and form, by the parliament that expelled him. it shows that the rights of man were but imperfectly understood at the revolution, for certain it is that the right which that parliament set up by assumption (for by the delegation it had not, and could not have it, because none could give it) over the persons and freedom of posterity for ever was of the same tyrannical unfounded kind which james attempted to set up over the parliament and the nation, and for which he was expelled. the only difference is (for in principle they differ not) that the one was an usurper over living, and the other over the unborn; and as the one has no better authority to stand upon than the other, both of them must be equally null and void, and of no effect. from what, or from whence, does mr. burke prove the right of any human power to bind posterity for ever? he has produced his clauses, but he must produce also his proofs that such a right existed, and show how it existed. if it ever existed it must now exist, for whatever appertains to the nature of man cannot be annihilated by man. it is the nature of man to die, and he will continue to die as long as he continues to be born. but mr. burke has set up a sort of political adam, in whom all posterity are bound for ever. he must, therefore, prove that his adam possessed such a power, or such a right. the weaker any cord is, the less will it bear to be stretched, and the worse is the policy to stretch it, unless it is intended to break it. had anyone proposed the overthrow of mr. burke's positions, he would have proceeded as mr. burke has done. he would have magnified the authorities, on purpose to have called the right of them into question; and the instant the question of right was started, the authorities must have been given up. it requires but a very small glance of thought to perceive that although laws made in one generation often continue in force through succeeding generations, yet they continue to derive their force from the consent of the living. a law not repealed continues in force, not because it cannot be repealed, but because it is not repealed; and the non-repealing passes for consent. but mr. burke's clauses have not even this qualification in their favour. they become null, by attempting to become immortal. the nature of them precludes consent. they destroy the right which they might have, by grounding it on a right which they cannot have. immortal power is not a human right, and therefore cannot be a right of parliament. the parliament of might as well have passed an act to have authorised themselves to live for ever, as to make their authority live for ever. all, therefore, that can be said of those clauses is that they are a formality of words, of as much import as if those who used them had addressed a congratulation to themselves, and in the oriental style of antiquity had said: o parliament, live for ever! the circumstances of the world are continually changing, and the opinions of men change also; and as government is for the living, and not for the dead, it is the living only that has any right in it. that which may be thought right and found convenient in one age may be thought wrong and found inconvenient in another. in such cases, who is to decide, the living or the dead? as almost one hundred pages of mr. burke's book are employed upon these clauses, it will consequently follow that if the clauses themselves, so far as they set up an assumed usurped dominion over posterity for ever, are unauthoritative, and in their nature null and void; that all his voluminous inferences, and declamation drawn therefrom, or founded thereon, are null and void also; and on this ground i rest the matter. we now come more particularly to the affairs of france. mr. burke's book has the appearance of being written as instruction to the french nation; but if i may permit myself the use of an extravagant metaphor, suited to the extravagance of the case, it is darkness attempting to illuminate light. while i am writing this there are accidentally before me some proposals for a declaration of rights by the marquis de la fayette (i ask his pardon for using his former address, and do it only for distinction's sake) to the national assembly, on the th of july, , three days before the taking of the bastille, and i cannot but remark with astonishment how opposite the sources are from which that gentleman and mr. burke draw their principles. instead of referring to musty records and mouldy parchments to prove that the rights of the living are lost, "renounced and abdicated for ever," by those who are now no more, as mr. burke has done, m. de la fayette applies to the living world, and emphatically says: "call to mind the sentiments which nature has engraved on the heart of every citizen, and which take a new force when they are solemnly recognised by all:--for a nation to love liberty, it is sufficient that she knows it; and to be free, it is sufficient that she wills it." how dry, barren, and obscure is the source from which mr. burke labors! and how ineffectual, though gay with flowers, are all his declamation and his arguments compared with these clear, concise, and soul-animating sentiments! few and short as they are, they lead on to a vast field of generous and manly thinking, and do not finish, like mr. burke's periods, with music in the ear, and nothing in the heart. as i have introduced m. de la fayette, i will take the liberty of adding an anecdote respecting his farewell address to the congress of america in , and which occurred fresh to my mind, when i saw mr. burke's thundering attack on the french revolution. m. de la fayette went to america at the early period of the war, and continued a volunteer in her service to the end. his conduct through the whole of that enterprise is one of the most extraordinary that is to be found in the history of a young man, scarcely twenty years of age. situated in a country that was like the lap of sensual pleasure, and with the means of enjoying it, how few are there to be found who would exchange such a scene for the woods and wildernesses of america, and pass the flowery years of youth in unprofitable danger and hardship! but such is the fact. when the war ended, and he was on the point of taking his final departure, he presented himself to congress, and contemplating in his affectionate farewell the revolution he had seen, expressed himself in these words: "may this great monument raised to liberty serve as a lesson to the oppressor, and an example to the oppressed!" when this address came to the hands of dr. franklin, who was then in france, he applied to count vergennes to have it inserted in the french gazette, but never could obtain his consent. the fact was that count vergennes was an aristocratical despot at home, and dreaded the example of the american revolution in france, as certain other persons now dread the example of the french revolution in england, and mr. burke's tribute of fear (for in this light his book must be considered) runs parallel with count vergennes' refusal. but to return more particularly to his work. "we have seen," says mr. burke, "the french rebel against a mild and lawful monarch, with more fury, outrage, and insult, than any people has been known to rise against the most illegal usurper, or the most sanguinary tyrant." this is one among a thousand other instances, in which mr. burke shows that he is ignorant of the springs and principles of the french revolution. it was not against louis xvi. but against the despotic principles of the government, that the nation revolted. these principles had not their origin in him, but in the original establishment, many centuries back: and they were become too deeply rooted to be removed, and the augean stables of parasites and plunderers too abominably filthy to be cleansed by anything short of a complete and universal revolution. when it becomes necessary to do anything, the whole heart and soul should go into the measure, or not attempt it. that crisis was then arrived, and there remained no choice but to act with determined vigor, or not to act at all. the king was known to be the friend of the nation, and this circumstance was favorable to the enterprise. perhaps no man bred up in the style of an absolute king, ever possessed a heart so little disposed to the exercise of that species of power as the present king of france. but the principles of the government itself still remained the same. the monarch and the monarchy were distinct and separate things; and it was against the established despotism of the latter, and not against the person or principles of the former, that the revolt commenced, and the revolution has been carried. mr. burke does not attend to the distinction between men and principles, and, therefore, he does not see that a revolt may take place against the despotism of the latter, while there lies no charge of despotism against the former. the natural moderation of louis xvi. contributed nothing to alter the hereditary despotism of the monarchy. all the tyrannies of former reigns, acted under that hereditary despotism, were still liable to be revived in the hands of a successor. it was not the respite of a reign that would satisfy france, enlightened as she was then become. a casual discontinuance of the practice of despotism, is not a discontinuance of its principles: the former depends on the virtue of the individual who is in immediate possession of the power; the latter, on the virtue and fortitude of the nation. in the case of charles i. and james ii. of england, the revolt was against the personal despotism of the men; whereas in france, it was against the hereditary despotism of the established government. but men who can consign over the rights of posterity for ever on the authority of a mouldy parchment, like mr. burke, are not qualified to judge of this revolution. it takes in a field too vast for their views to explore, and proceeds with a mightiness of reason they cannot keep pace with. but there are many points of view in which this revolution may be considered. when despotism has established itself for ages in a country, as in france, it is not in the person of the king only that it resides. it has the appearance of being so in show, and in nominal authority; but it is not so in practice and in fact. it has its standard everywhere. every office and department has its despotism, founded upon custom and usage. every place has its bastille, and every bastille its despot. the original hereditary despotism resident in the person of the king, divides and sub-divides itself into a thousand shapes and forms, till at last the whole of it is acted by deputation. this was the case in france; and against this species of despotism, proceeding on through an endless labyrinth of office till the source of it is scarcely perceptible, there is no mode of redress. it strengthens itself by assuming the appearance of duty, and tyrannies under the pretence of obeying. when a man reflects on the condition which france was in from the nature of her government, he will see other causes for revolt than those which immediately connect themselves with the person or character of louis xvi. there were, if i may so express it, a thousand despotisms to be reformed in france, which had grown up under the hereditary despotism of the monarchy, and became so rooted as to be in a great measure independent of it. between the monarchy, the parliament, and the church there was a rivalship of despotism; besides the feudal despotism operating locally, and the ministerial despotism operating everywhere. but mr. burke, by considering the king as the only possible object of a revolt, speaks as if france was a village, in which everything that passed must be known to its commanding officer, and no oppression could be acted but what he could immediately control. mr. burke might have been in the bastille his whole life, as well under louis xvi. as louis xiv., and neither the one nor the other have known that such a man as burke existed. the despotic principles of the government were the same in both reigns, though the dispositions of the men were as remote as tyranny and benevolence. what mr. burke considers as a reproach to the french revolution (that of bringing it forward under a reign more mild than the preceding ones) is one of its highest honors. the revolutions that have taken place in other european countries, have been excited by personal hatred. the rage was against the man, and he became the victim. but, in the instance of france we see a revolution generated in the rational contemplation of the rights of man, and distinguishing from the beginning between persons and principles. but mr. burke appears to have no idea of principles when he is contemplating governments. "ten years ago," says he, "i could have felicitated france on her having a government, without inquiring what the nature of that government was, or how it was administered." is this the language of a rational man? is it the language of a heart feeling as it ought to feel for the rights and happiness of the human race? on this ground, mr. burke must compliment all the governments in the world, while the victims who suffer under them, whether sold into slavery, or tortured out of existence, are wholly forgotten. it is power, and not principles, that mr. burke venerates; and under this abominable depravity he is disqualified to judge between them. thus much for his opinion as to the occasions of the french revolution. i now proceed to other considerations. i know a place in america called point-no-point, because as you proceed along the shore, gay and flowery as mr. burke's language, it continually recedes and presents itself at a distance before you; but when you have got as far as you can go, there is no point at all. just thus it is with mr. burke's three hundred and sixty-six pages. it is therefore difficult to reply to him. but as the points he wishes to establish may be inferred from what he abuses, it is in his paradoxes that we must look for his arguments. as to the tragic paintings by which mr. burke has outraged his own imagination, and seeks to work upon that of his readers, they are very well calculated for theatrical representation, where facts are manufactured for the sake of show, and accommodated to produce, through the weakness of sympathy, a weeping effect. but mr. burke should recollect that he is writing history, and not plays, and that his readers will expect truth, and not the spouting rant of high-toned exclamation. when we see a man dramatically lamenting in a publication intended to be believed that "the age of chivalry is gone! that the glory of europe is extinguished for ever! that the unbought grace of life (if anyone knows what it is), the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise is gone!" and all this because the quixot age of chivalry nonsense is gone, what opinion can we form of his judgment, or what regard can we pay to his facts? in the rhapsody of his imagination he has discovered a world of wind mills, and his sorrows are that there are no quixots to attack them. but if the age of aristocracy, like that of chivalry, should fall (and they had originally some connection) mr. burke, the trumpeter of the order, may continue his parody to the end, and finish with exclaiming: "othello's occupation's gone!" notwithstanding mr. burke's horrid paintings, when the french revolution is compared with the revolutions of other countries, the astonishment will be that it is marked with so few sacrifices; but this astonishment will cease when we reflect that principles, and not persons, were the meditated objects of destruction. the mind of the nation was acted upon by a higher stimulus than what the consideration of persons could inspire, and sought a higher conquest than could be produced by the downfall of an enemy. among the few who fell there do not appear to be any that were intentionally singled out. they all of them had their fate in the circumstances of the moment, and were not pursued with that long, cold-blooded unabated revenge which pursued the unfortunate scotch in the affair of . through the whole of mr. burke's book i do not observe that the bastille is mentioned more than once, and that with a kind of implication as if he were sorry it was pulled down, and wished it were built up again. "we have rebuilt newgate," says he, "and tenanted the mansion; and we have prisons almost as strong as the bastille for those who dare to libel the queens of france."*[ ] as to what a madman like the person called lord george gordon might say, and to whom newgate is rather a bedlam than a prison, it is unworthy a rational consideration. it was a madman that libelled, and that is sufficient apology; and it afforded an opportunity for confining him, which was the thing that was wished for. but certain it is that mr. burke, who does not call himself a madman (whatever other people may do), has libelled in the most unprovoked manner, and in the grossest style of the most vulgar abuse, the whole representative authority of france, and yet mr. burke takes his seat in the british house of commons! from his violence and his grief, his silence on some points and his excess on others, it is difficult not to believe that mr. burke is sorry, extremely sorry, that arbitrary power, the power of the pope and the bastille, are pulled down. not one glance of compassion, not one commiserating reflection that i can find throughout his book, has he bestowed on those who lingered out the most wretched of lives, a life without hope in the most miserable of prisons. it is painful to behold a man employing his talents to corrupt himself. nature has been kinder to mr. burke than he is to her. he is not affected by the reality of distress touching his heart, but by the showy resemblance of it striking his imagination. he pities the plumage, but forgets the dying bird. accustomed to kiss the aristocratical hand that hath purloined him from himself, he degenerates into a composition of art, and the genuine soul of nature forsakes him. his hero or his heroine must be a tragedy-victim expiring in show, and not the real prisoner of misery, sliding into death in the silence of a dungeon. as mr. burke has passed over the whole transaction of the bastille (and his silence is nothing in his favour), and has entertained his readers with refections on supposed facts distorted into real falsehoods, i will give, since he has not, some account of the circumstances which preceded that transaction. they will serve to show that less mischief could scarcely have accompanied such an event when considered with the treacherous and hostile aggravations of the enemies of the revolution. the mind can hardly picture to itself a more tremendous scene than what the city of paris exhibited at the time of taking the bastille, and for two days before and after, nor perceive the possibility of its quieting so soon. at a distance this transaction has appeared only as an act of heroism standing on itself, and the close political connection it had with the revolution is lost in the brilliancy of the achievement. but we are to consider it as the strength of the parties brought man to man, and contending for the issue. the bastille was to be either the prize or the prison of the assailants. the downfall of it included the idea of the downfall of despotism, and this compounded image was become as figuratively united as bunyan's doubting castle and giant despair. the national assembly, before and at the time of taking the bastille, was sitting at versailles, twelve miles distant from paris. about a week before the rising of the partisans, and their taking the bastille, it was discovered that a plot was forming, at the head of which was the count d'artois, the king's youngest brother, for demolishing the national assembly, seizing its members, and thereby crushing, by a coup de main, all hopes and prospects of forming a free government. for the sake of humanity, as well as freedom, it is well this plan did not succeed. examples are not wanting to show how dreadfully vindictive and cruel are all old governments, when they are successful against what they call a revolt. this plan must have been some time in contemplation; because, in order to carry it into execution, it was necessary to collect a large military force round paris, and cut off the communication between that city and the national assembly at versailles. the troops destined for this service were chiefly the foreign troops in the pay of france, and who, for this particular purpose, were drawn from the distant provinces where they were then stationed. when they were collected to the amount of between twenty-five and thirty thousand, it was judged time to put the plan into execution. the ministry who were then in office, and who were friendly to the revolution, were instantly dismissed and a new ministry formed of those who had concerted the project, among whom was count de broglio, and to his share was given the command of those troops. the character of this man as described to me in a letter which i communicated to mr. burke before he began to write his book, and from an authority which mr. burke well knows was good, was that of "a high-flying aristocrat, cool, and capable of every mischief." while these matters were agitating, the national assembly stood in the most perilous and critical situation that a body of men can be supposed to act in. they were the devoted victims, and they knew it. they had the hearts and wishes of their country on their side, but military authority they had none. the guards of broglio surrounded the hall where the assembly sat, ready, at the word of command, to seize their persons, as had been done the year before to the parliament of paris. had the national assembly deserted their trust, or had they exhibited signs of weakness or fear, their enemies had been encouraged and their country depressed. when the situation they stood in, the cause they were engaged in, and the crisis then ready to burst, which should determine their personal and political fate and that of their country, and probably of europe, are taken into one view, none but a heart callous with prejudice or corrupted by dependence can avoid interesting itself in their success. the archbishop of vienne was at this time president of the national assembly--a person too old to undergo the scene that a few days or a few hours might bring forth. a man of more activity and bolder fortitude was necessary, and the national assembly chose (under the form of a vice-president, for the presidency still resided in the archbishop) m. de la fayette; and this is the only instance of a vice-president being chosen. it was at the moment that this storm was pending (july th) that a declaration of rights was brought forward by m. de la fayette, and is the same which is alluded to earlier. it was hastily drawn up, and makes only a part of the more extensive declaration of rights agreed upon and adopted afterwards by the national assembly. the particular reason for bringing it forward at this moment (m. de la fayette has since informed me) was that, if the national assembly should fall in the threatened destruction that then surrounded it, some trace of its principles might have the chance of surviving the wreck. everything now was drawing to a crisis. the event was freedom or slavery. on one side, an army of nearly thirty thousand men; on the other, an unarmed body of citizens--for the citizens of paris, on whom the national assembly must then immediately depend, were as unarmed and as undisciplined as the citizens of london are now. the french guards had given strong symptoms of their being attached to the national cause; but their numbers were small, not a tenth part of the force that broglio commanded, and their officers were in the interest of broglio. matters being now ripe for execution, the new ministry made their appearance in office. the reader will carry in his mind that the bastille was taken the th july; the point of time i am now speaking of is the th. immediately on the news of the change of ministry reaching paris, in the afternoon, all the playhouses and places of entertainment, shops and houses, were shut up. the change of ministry was considered as the prelude of hostilities, and the opinion was rightly founded. the foreign troops began to advance towards the city. the prince de lambesc, who commanded a body of german cavalry, approached by the place of louis xv., which connects itself with some of the streets. in his march, he insulted and struck an old man with a sword. the french are remarkable for their respect to old age; and the insolence with which it appeared to be done, uniting with the general fermentation they were in, produced a powerful effect, and a cry of "to arms! to arms!" spread itself in a moment over the city. arms they had none, nor scarcely anyone who knew the use of them; but desperate resolution, when every hope is at stake, supplies, for a while, the want of arms. near where the prince de lambesc was drawn up, were large piles of stones collected for building the new bridge, and with these the people attacked the cavalry. a party of french guards upon hearing the firing, rushed from their quarters and joined the people; and night coming on, the cavalry retreated. the streets of paris, being narrow, are favourable for defence, and the loftiness of the houses, consisting of many stories, from which great annoyance might be given, secured them against nocturnal enterprises; and the night was spent in providing themselves with every sort of weapon they could make or procure: guns, swords, blacksmiths' hammers, carpenters' axes, iron crows, pikes, halberts, pitchforks, spits, clubs, etc., etc. the incredible numbers in which they assembled the next morning, and the still more incredible resolution they exhibited, embarrassed and astonished their enemies. little did the new ministry expect such a salute. accustomed to slavery themselves, they had no idea that liberty was capable of such inspiration, or that a body of unarmed citizens would dare to face the military force of thirty thousand men. every moment of this day was employed in collecting arms, concerting plans, and arranging themselves into the best order which such an instantaneous movement could afford. broglio continued lying round the city, but made no further advances this day, and the succeeding night passed with as much tranquility as such a scene could possibly produce. but defence only was not the object of the citizens. they had a cause at stake, on which depended their freedom or their slavery. they every moment expected an attack, or to hear of one made on the national assembly; and in such a situation, the most prompt measures are sometimes the best. the object that now presented itself was the bastille; and the eclat of carrying such a fortress in the face of such an army, could not fail to strike terror into the new ministry, who had scarcely yet had time to meet. by some intercepted correspondence this morning, it was discovered that the mayor of paris, m. defflesselles, who appeared to be in the interest of the citizens, was betraying them; and from this discovery, there remained no doubt that broglio would reinforce the bastille the ensuing evening. it was therefore necessary to attack it that day; but before this could be done, it was first necessary to procure a better supply of arms than they were then possessed of. there was, adjoining to the city a large magazine of arms deposited at the hospital of the invalids, which the citizens summoned to surrender; and as the place was neither defensible, nor attempted much defence, they soon succeeded. thus supplied, they marched to attack the bastille; a vast mixed multitude of all ages, and of all degrees, armed with all sorts of weapons. imagination would fail in describing to itself the appearance of such a procession, and of the anxiety of the events which a few hours or a few minutes might produce. what plans the ministry were forming, were as unknown to the people within the city, as what the citizens were doing was unknown to the ministry; and what movements broglio might make for the support or relief of the place, were to the citizens equally as unknown. all was mystery and hazard. that the bastille was attacked with an enthusiasm of heroism, such only as the highest animation of liberty could inspire, and carried in the space of a few hours, is an event which the world is fully possessed of. i am not undertaking the detail of the attack, but bringing into view the conspiracy against the nation which provoked it, and which fell with the bastille. the prison to which the new ministry were dooming the national assembly, in addition to its being the high altar and castle of despotism, became the proper object to begin with. this enterprise broke up the new ministry, who began now to fly from the ruin they had prepared for others. the troops of broglio dispersed, and himself fled also. mr. burke has spoken a great deal about plots, but he has never once spoken of this plot against the national assembly, and the liberties of the nation; and that he might not, he has passed over all the circumstances that might throw it in his way. the exiles who have fled from france, whose case he so much interests himself in, and from whom he has had his lesson, fled in consequence of the miscarriage of this plot. no plot was formed against them; they were plotting against others; and those who fell, met, not unjustly, the punishment they were preparing to execute. but will mr. burke say that if this plot, contrived with the subtilty of an ambuscade, had succeeded, the successful party would have restrained their wrath so soon? let the history of all governments answer the question. whom has the national assembly brought to the scaffold? none. they were themselves the devoted victims of this plot, and they have not retaliated; why, then, are they charged with revenge they have not acted? in the tremendous breaking forth of a whole people, in which all degrees, tempers and characters are confounded, delivering themselves, by a miracle of exertion, from the destruction meditated against them, is it to be expected that nothing will happen? when men are sore with the sense of oppressions, and menaced with the prospects of new ones, is the calmness of philosophy or the palsy of insensibility to be looked for? mr. burke exclaims against outrage; yet the greatest is that which himself has committed. his book is a volume of outrage, not apologised for by the impulse of a moment, but cherished through a space of ten months; yet mr. burke had no provocation--no life, no interest, at stake. more of the citizens fell in this struggle than of their opponents: but four or five persons were seized by the populace, and instantly put to death; the governor of the bastille, and the mayor of paris, who was detected in the act of betraying them; and afterwards foulon, one of the new ministry, and berthier, his son-in-law, who had accepted the office of intendant of paris. their heads were stuck upon spikes, and carried about the city; and it is upon this mode of punishment that mr. burke builds a great part of his tragic scene. let us therefore examine how men came by the idea of punishing in this manner. they learn it from the governments they live under; and retaliate the punishments they have been accustomed to behold. the heads stuck upon spikes, which remained for years upon temple bar, differed nothing in the horror of the scene from those carried about upon spikes at paris; yet this was done by the english government. it may perhaps be said that it signifies nothing to a man what is done to him after he is dead; but it signifies much to the living; it either tortures their feelings or hardens their hearts, and in either case it instructs them how to punish when power falls into their hands. lay then the axe to the root, and teach governments humanity. it is their sanguinary punishments which corrupt mankind. in england the punishment in certain cases is by hanging, drawing and quartering; the heart of the sufferer is cut out and held up to the view of the populace. in france, under the former government, the punishments were not less barbarous. who does not remember the execution of damien, torn to pieces by horses? the effect of those cruel spectacles exhibited to the populace is to destroy tenderness or excite revenge; and by the base and false idea of governing men by terror, instead of reason, they become precedents. it is over the lowest class of mankind that government by terror is intended to operate, and it is on them that it operates to the worst effect. they have sense enough to feel they are the objects aimed at; and they inflict in their turn the examples of terror they have been instructed to practise. there is in all european countries a large class of people of that description, which in england is called the "mob." of this class were those who committed the burnings and devastations in london in , and of this class were those who carried the heads on iron spikes in paris. foulon and berthier were taken up in the country, and sent to paris, to undergo their examination at the hotel de ville; for the national assembly, immediately on the new ministry coming into office, passed a decree, which they communicated to the king and cabinet, that they (the national assembly) would hold the ministry, of which foulon was one, responsible for the measures they were advising and pursuing; but the mob, incensed at the appearance of foulon and berthier, tore them from their conductors before they were carried to the hotel de ville, and executed them on the spot. why then does mr. burke charge outrages of this kind on a whole people? as well may he charge the riots and outrages of on all the people of london, or those in ireland on all his countrymen. but everything we see or hear offensive to our feelings and derogatory to the human character should lead to other reflections than those of reproach. even the beings who commit them have some claim to our consideration. how then is it that such vast classes of mankind as are distinguished by the appellation of the vulgar, or the ignorant mob, are so numerous in all old countries? the instant we ask ourselves this question, reflection feels an answer. they rise, as an unavoidable consequence, out of the ill construction of all old governments in europe, england included with the rest. it is by distortedly exalting some men, that others are distortedly debased, till the whole is out of nature. a vast mass of mankind are degradedly thrown into the back-ground of the human picture, to bring forward, with greater glare, the puppet-show of state and aristocracy. in the commencement of a revolution, those men are rather the followers of the camp than of the standard of liberty, and have yet to be instructed how to reverence it. i give to mr. burke all his theatrical exaggerations for facts, and i then ask him if they do not establish the certainty of what i here lay down? admitting them to be true, they show the necessity of the french revolution, as much as any one thing he could have asserted. these outrages were not the effect of the principles of the revolution, but of the degraded mind that existed before the revolution, and which the revolution is calculated to reform. place them then to their proper cause, and take the reproach of them to your own side. it is the honour of the national assembly and the city of paris that, during such a tremendous scene of arms and confusion, beyond the control of all authority, they have been able, by the influence of example and exhortation, to restrain so much. never were more pains taken to instruct and enlighten mankind, and to make them see that their interest consisted in their virtue, and not in their revenge, than have been displayed in the revolution of france. i now proceed to make some remarks on mr. burke's account of the expedition to versailles, october the th and th. i can consider mr. burke's book in scarcely any other light than a dramatic performance; and he must, i think, have considered it in the same light himself, by the poetical liberties he has taken of omitting some facts, distorting others, and making the whole machinery bend to produce a stage effect. of this kind is his account of the expedition to versailles. he begins this account by omitting the only facts which as causes are known to be true; everything beyond these is conjecture, even in paris; and he then works up a tale accommodated to his own passions and prejudices. it is to be observed throughout mr. burke's book that he never speaks of plots against the revolution; and it is from those plots that all the mischiefs have arisen. it suits his purpose to exhibit the consequences without their causes. it is one of the arts of the drama to do so. if the crimes of men were exhibited with their sufferings, stage effect would sometimes be lost, and the audience would be inclined to approve where it was intended they should commiserate. after all the investigations that have been made into this intricate affair (the expedition to versailles), it still remains enveloped in all that kind of mystery which ever accompanies events produced more from a concurrence of awkward circumstances than from fixed design. while the characters of men are forming, as is always the case in revolutions, there is a reciprocal suspicion, and a disposition to misinterpret each other; and even parties directly opposite in principle will sometimes concur in pushing forward the same movement with very different views, and with the hopes of its producing very different consequences. a great deal of this may be discovered in this embarrassed affair, and yet the issue of the whole was what nobody had in view. the only things certainly known are that considerable uneasiness was at this time excited at paris by the delay of the king in not sanctioning and forwarding the decrees of the national assembly, particularly that of the declaration of the rights of man, and the decrees of the fourth of august, which contained the foundation principles on which the constitution was to be erected. the kindest, and perhaps the fairest conjecture upon this matter is, that some of the ministers intended to make remarks and observations upon certain parts of them before they were finally sanctioned and sent to the provinces; but be this as it may, the enemies of the revolution derived hope from the delay, and the friends of the revolution uneasiness. during this state of suspense, the garde du corps, which was composed as such regiments generally are, of persons much connected with the court, gave an entertainment at versailles (october ) to some foreign regiments then arrived; and when the entertainment was at the height, on a signal given, the garde du corps tore the national cockade from their hats, trampled it under foot, and replaced it with a counter-cockade prepared for the purpose. an indignity of this kind amounted to defiance. it was like declaring war; and if men will give challenges they must expect consequences. but all this mr. burke has carefully kept out of sight. he begins his account by saying: "history will record that on the morning of the th october, , the king and queen of france, after a day of confusion, alarm, dismay, and slaughter, lay down under the pledged security of public faith to indulge nature in a few hours of respite, and troubled melancholy repose." this is neither the sober style of history, nor the intention of it. it leaves everything to be guessed at and mistaken. one would at least think there had been a battle; and a battle there probably would have been had it not been for the moderating prudence of those whom mr. burke involves in his censures. by his keeping the garde du corps out of sight mr. burke has afforded himself the dramatic licence of putting the king and queen in their places, as if the object of the expedition was against them. but to return to my account this conduct of the garde du corps, as might well be expected, alarmed and enraged the partisans. the colors of the cause, and the cause itself, were become too united to mistake the intention of the insult, and the partisans were determined to call the garde du corps to an account. there was certainly nothing of the cowardice of assassination in marching in the face of the day to demand satisfaction, if such a phrase may be used, of a body of armed men who had voluntarily given defiance. but the circumstance which serves to throw this affair into embarrassment is, that the enemies of the revolution appear to have encouraged it as well as its friends. the one hoped to prevent a civil war by checking it in time, and the other to make one. the hopes of those opposed to the revolution rested in making the king of their party, and getting him from versailles to metz, where they expected to collect a force and set up a standard. we have, therefore, two different objects presenting themselves at the same time, and to be accomplished by the same means: the one to chastise the garde du corps, which was the object of the partisans; the other to render the confusion of such a scene an inducement to the king to set off for metz. on the th of october a very numerous body of women, and men in the disguise of women, collected around the hotel de ville or town-hall at paris, and set off for versailles. their professed object was the garde du corps; but prudent men readily recollect that mischief is more easily begun than ended; and this impressed itself with the more force from the suspicions already stated, and the irregularity of such a cavalcade. as soon, therefore, as a sufficient force could be collected, m. de la fayette, by orders from the civil authority of paris, set off after them at the head of twenty thousand of the paris militia. the revolution could derive no benefit from confusion, and its opposers might. by an amiable and spirited manner of address he had hitherto been fortunate in calming disquietudes, and in this he was extraordinarily successful; to frustrate, therefore, the hopes of those who might seek to improve this scene into a sort of justifiable necessity for the king's quitting versailles and withdrawing to metz, and to prevent at the same time the consequences that might ensue between the garde du corps and this phalanx of men and women, he forwarded expresses to the king, that he was on his march to versailles, by the orders of the civil authority of paris, for the purpose of peace and protection, expressing at the same time the necessity of restraining the garde du corps from firing upon the people.*[ ] he arrived at versailles between ten and eleven at night. the garde du corps was drawn up, and the people had arrived some time before, but everything had remained suspended. wisdom and policy now consisted in changing a scene of danger into a happy event. m. de la fayette became the mediator between the enraged parties; and the king, to remove the uneasiness which had arisen from the delay already stated, sent for the president of the national assembly, and signed the declaration of the rights of man, and such other parts of the constitution as were in readiness. it was now about one in the morning. everything appeared to be composed, and a general congratulation took place. by the beat of a drum a proclamation was made that the citizens of versailles would give the hospitality of their houses to their fellow-citizens of paris. those who could not be accommodated in this manner remained in the streets, or took up their quarters in the churches; and at two o'clock the king and queen retired. in this state matters passed till the break of day, when a fresh disturbance arose from the censurable conduct of some of both parties, for such characters there will be in all such scenes. one of the garde du corps appeared at one of the windows of the palace, and the people who had remained during the night in the streets accosted him with reviling and provocative language. instead of retiring, as in such a case prudence would have dictated, he presented his musket, fired, and killed one of the paris militia. the peace being thus broken, the people rushed into the palace in quest of the offender. they attacked the quarters of the garde du corps within the palace, and pursued them throughout the avenues of it, and to the apartments of the king. on this tumult, not the queen only, as mr. burke has represented it, but every person in the palace, was awakened and alarmed; and m. de la fayette had a second time to interpose between the parties, the event of which was that the garde du corps put on the national cockade, and the matter ended as by oblivion, after the loss of two or three lives. during the latter part of the time in which this confusion was acting, the king and queen were in public at the balcony, and neither of them concealed for safety's sake, as mr. burke insinuates. matters being thus appeased, and tranquility restored, a general acclamation broke forth of le roi a paris--le roi a paris--the king to paris. it was the shout of peace, and immediately accepted on the part of the king. by this measure all future projects of trapanning the king to metz, and setting up the standard of opposition to the constitution, were prevented, and the suspicions extinguished. the king and his family reached paris in the evening, and were congratulated on their arrival by m. bailly, the mayor of paris, in the name of the citizens. mr. burke, who throughout his book confounds things, persons, and principles, as in his remarks on m. bailly's address, confounded time also. he censures m. bailly for calling it "un bon jour," a good day. mr. burke should have informed himself that this scene took up the space of two days, the day on which it began with every appearance of danger and mischief, and the day on which it terminated without the mischiefs that threatened; and that it is to this peaceful termination that m. bailly alludes, and to the arrival of the king at paris. not less than three hundred thousand persons arranged themselves in the procession from versailles to paris, and not an act of molestation was committed during the whole march. mr. burke on the authority of m. lally tollendal, a deserter from the national assembly, says that on entering paris, the people shouted "tous les eveques a la lanterne." all bishops to be hanged at the lanthorn or lamp-posts. it is surprising that nobody could hear this but lally tollendal, and that nobody should believe it but mr. burke. it has not the least connection with any part of the transaction, and is totally foreign to every circumstance of it. the bishops had never been introduced before into any scene of mr. burke's drama: why then are they, all at once, and altogether, tout a coup, et tous ensemble, introduced now? mr. burke brings forward his bishops and his lanthorn-like figures in a magic lanthorn, and raises his scenes by contrast instead of connection. but it serves to show, with the rest of his book what little credit ought to be given where even probability is set at defiance, for the purpose of defaming; and with this reflection, instead of a soliloquy in praise of chivalry, as mr. burke has done, i close the account of the expedition to versailles.*[ ] i have now to follow mr. burke through a pathless wilderness of rhapsodies, and a sort of descant upon governments, in which he asserts whatever he pleases, on the presumption of its being believed, without offering either evidence or reasons for so doing. before anything can be reasoned upon to a conclusion, certain facts, principles, or data, to reason from, must be established, admitted, or denied. mr. burke with his usual outrage, abused the declaration of the rights of man, published by the national assembly of france, as the basis on which the constitution of france is built. this he calls "paltry and blurred sheets of paper about the rights of man." does mr. burke mean to deny that man has any rights? if he does, then he must mean that there are no such things as rights anywhere, and that he has none himself; for who is there in the world but man? but if mr. burke means to admit that man has rights, the question then will be: what are those rights, and how man came by them originally? the error of those who reason by precedents drawn from antiquity, respecting the rights of man, is that they do not go far enough into antiquity. they do not go the whole way. they stop in some of the intermediate stages of an hundred or a thousand years, and produce what was then done, as a rule for the present day. this is no authority at all. if we travel still farther into antiquity, we shall find a direct contrary opinion and practice prevailing; and if antiquity is to be authority, a thousand such authorities may be produced, successively contradicting each other; but if we proceed on, we shall at last come out right; we shall come to the time when man came from the hand of his maker. what was he then? man. man was his high and only title, and a higher cannot be given him. but of titles i shall speak hereafter. we are now got at the origin of man, and at the origin of his rights. as to the manner in which the world has been governed from that day to this, it is no farther any concern of ours than to make a proper use of the errors or the improvements which the history of it presents. those who lived an hundred or a thousand years ago, were then moderns, as we are now. they had their ancients, and those ancients had others, and we also shall be ancients in our turn. if the mere name of antiquity is to govern in the affairs of life, the people who are to live an hundred or a thousand years hence, may as well take us for a precedent, as we make a precedent of those who lived an hundred or a thousand years ago. the fact is, that portions of antiquity, by proving everything, establish nothing. it is authority against authority all the way, till we come to the divine origin of the rights of man at the creation. here our enquiries find a resting-place, and our reason finds a home. if a dispute about the rights of man had arisen at the distance of an hundred years from the creation, it is to this source of authority they must have referred, and it is to this same source of authority that we must now refer. though i mean not to touch upon any sectarian principle of religion, yet it may be worth observing, that the genealogy of christ is traced to adam. why then not trace the rights of man to the creation of man? i will answer the question. because there have been upstart governments, thrusting themselves between, and presumptuously working to un-make man. if any generation of men ever possessed the right of dictating the mode by which the world should be governed for ever, it was the first generation that existed; and if that generation did it not, no succeeding generation can show any authority for doing it, nor can set any up. the illuminating and divine principle of the equal rights of man (for it has its origin from the maker of man) relates, not only to the living individuals, but to generations of men succeeding each other. every generation is equal in rights to generations which preceded it, by the same rule that every individual is born equal in rights with his contemporary. every history of the creation, and every traditionary account, whether from the lettered or unlettered world, however they may vary in their opinion or belief of certain particulars, all agree in establishing one point, the unity of man; by which i mean that men are all of one degree, and consequently that all men are born equal, and with equal natural right, in the same manner as if posterity had been continued by creation instead of generation, the latter being the only mode by which the former is carried forward; and consequently every child born into the world must be considered as deriving its existence from god. the world is as new to him as it was to the first man that existed, and his natural right in it is of the same kind. the mosaic account of the creation, whether taken as divine authority or merely historical, is full to this point, the unity or equality of man. the expression admits of no controversy. "and god said, let us make man in our own image. in the image of god created he him; male and female created he them." the distinction of sexes is pointed out, but no other distinction is even implied. if this be not divine authority, it is at least historical authority, and shows that the equality of man, so far from being a modern doctrine, is the oldest upon record. it is also to be observed that all the religions known in the world are founded, so far as they relate to man, on the unity of man, as being all of one degree. whether in heaven or in hell, or in whatever state man may be supposed to exist hereafter, the good and the bad are the only distinctions. nay, even the laws of governments are obliged to slide into this principle, by making degrees to consist in crimes and not in persons. it is one of the greatest of all truths, and of the highest advantage to cultivate. by considering man in this light, and by instructing him to consider himself in this light, it places him in a close connection with all his duties, whether to his creator or to the creation, of which he is a part; and it is only when he forgets his origin, or, to use a more fashionable phrase, his birth and family, that he becomes dissolute. it is not among the least of the evils of the present existing governments in all parts of europe that man, considered as man, is thrown back to a vast distance from his maker, and the artificial chasm filled up with a succession of barriers, or sort of turnpike gates, through which he has to pass. i will quote mr. burke's catalogue of barriers that he has set up between man and his maker. putting himself in the character of a herald, he says: "we fear god--we look with awe to kings--with affection to parliaments with duty to magistrates--with reverence to priests, and with respect to nobility." mr. burke has forgotten to put in "'chivalry." he has also forgotten to put in peter. the duty of man is not a wilderness of turnpike gates, through which he is to pass by tickets from one to the other. it is plain and simple, and consists but of two points. his duty to god, which every man must feel; and with respect to his neighbor, to do as he would be done by. if those to whom power is delegated do well, they will be respected: if not, they will be despised; and with regard to those to whom no power is delegated, but who assume it, the rational world can know nothing of them. hitherto we have spoken only (and that but in part) of the natural rights of man. we have now to consider the civil rights of man, and to show how the one originates from the other. man did not enter into society to become worse than he was before, nor to have fewer rights than he had before, but to have those rights better secured. his natural rights are the foundation of all his civil rights. but in order to pursue this distinction with more precision, it will be necessary to mark the different qualities of natural and civil rights. a few words will explain this. natural rights are those which appertain to man in right of his existence. of this kind are all the intellectual rights, or rights of the mind, and also all those rights of acting as an individual for his own comfort and happiness, which are not injurious to the natural rights of others. civil rights are those which appertain to man in right of his being a member of society. every civil right has for its foundation some natural right pre-existing in the individual, but to the enjoyment of which his individual power is not, in all cases, sufficiently competent. of this kind are all those which relate to security and protection. from this short review it will be easy to distinguish between that class of natural rights which man retains after entering into society and those which he throws into the common stock as a member of society. the natural rights which he retains are all those in which the power to execute is as perfect in the individual as the right itself. among this class, as is before mentioned, are all the intellectual rights, or rights of the mind; consequently religion is one of those rights. the natural rights which are not retained, are all those in which, though the right is perfect in the individual, the power to execute them is defective. they answer not his purpose. a man, by natural right, has a right to judge in his own cause; and so far as the right of the mind is concerned, he never surrenders it. but what availeth it him to judge, if he has not power to redress? he therefore deposits this right in the common stock of society, and takes the ann of society, of which he is a part, in preference and in addition to his own. society grants him nothing. every man is a proprietor in society, and draws on the capital as a matter of right. from these premisses two or three certain conclusions will follow: first, that every civil right grows out of a natural right; or, in other words, is a natural right exchanged. secondly, that civil power properly considered as such is made up of the aggregate of that class of the natural rights of man, which becomes defective in the individual in point of power, and answers not his purpose, but when collected to a focus becomes competent to the purpose of every one. thirdly, that the power produced from the aggregate of natural rights, imperfect in power in the individual, cannot be applied to invade the natural rights which are retained in the individual, and in which the power to execute is as perfect as the right itself. we have now, in a few words, traced man from a natural individual to a member of society, and shown, or endeavoured to show, the quality of the natural rights retained, and of those which are exchanged for civil rights. let us now apply these principles to governments. in casting our eyes over the world, it is extremely easy to distinguish the governments which have arisen out of society, or out of the social compact, from those which have not; but to place this in a clearer light than what a single glance may afford, it will be proper to take a review of the several sources from which governments have arisen and on which they have been founded. they may be all comprehended under three heads. first, superstition. secondly, power. thirdly, the common interest of society and the common rights of man. the first was a government of priestcraft, the second of conquerors, and the third of reason. when a set of artful men pretended, through the medium of oracles, to hold intercourse with the deity, as familiarly as they now march up the back-stairs in european courts, the world was completely under the government of superstition. the oracles were consulted, and whatever they were made to say became the law; and this sort of government lasted as long as this sort of superstition lasted. after these a race of conquerors arose, whose government, like that of william the conqueror, was founded in power, and the sword assumed the name of a sceptre. governments thus established last as long as the power to support them lasts; but that they might avail themselves of every engine in their favor, they united fraud to force, and set up an idol which they called divine right, and which, in imitation of the pope, who affects to be spiritual and temporal, and in contradiction to the founder of the christian religion, twisted itself afterwards into an idol of another shape, called church and state. the key of st. peter and the key of the treasury became quartered on one another, and the wondering cheated multitude worshipped the invention. when i contemplate the natural dignity of man, when i feel (for nature has not been kind enough to me to blunt my feelings) for the honour and happiness of its character, i become irritated at the attempt to govern mankind by force and fraud, as if they were all knaves and fools, and can scarcely avoid disgust at those who are thus imposed upon. we have now to review the governments which arise out of society, in contradistinction to those which arose out of superstition and conquest. it has been thought a considerable advance towards establishing the principles of freedom to say that government is a compact between those who govern and those who are governed; but this cannot be true, because it is putting the effect before the cause; for as man must have existed before governments existed, there necessarily was a time when governments did not exist, and consequently there could originally exist no governors to form such a compact with. the fact therefore must be that the individuals themselves, each in his own personal and sovereign right, entered into a compact with each other to produce a government: and this is the only mode in which governments have a right to arise, and the only principle on which they have a right to exist. to possess ourselves of a clear idea of what government is, or ought to be, we must trace it to its origin. in doing this we shall easily discover that governments must have arisen either out of the people or over the people. mr. burke has made no distinction. he investigates nothing to its source, and therefore he confounds everything; but he has signified his intention of undertaking, at some future opportunity, a comparison between the constitution of england and france. as he thus renders it a subject of controversy by throwing the gauntlet, i take him upon his own ground. it is in high challenges that high truths have the right of appearing; and i accept it with the more readiness because it affords me, at the same time, an opportunity of pursuing the subject with respect to governments arising out of society. but it will be first necessary to define what is meant by a constitution. it is not sufficient that we adopt the word; we must fix also a standard signification to it. a constitution is not a thing in name only, but in fact. it has not an ideal, but a real existence; and wherever it cannot be produced in a visible form, there is none. a constitution is a thing antecedent to a government, and a government is only the creature of a constitution. the constitution of a country is not the act of its government, but of the people constituting its government. it is the body of elements, to which you can refer, and quote article by article; and which contains the principles on which the government shall be established, the manner in which it shall be organised, the powers it shall have, the mode of elections, the duration of parliaments, or by what other name such bodies may be called; the powers which the executive part of the government shall have; and in fine, everything that relates to the complete organisation of a civil government, and the principles on which it shall act, and by which it shall be bound. a constitution, therefore, is to a government what the laws made afterwards by that government are to a court of judicature. the court of judicature does not make the laws, neither can it alter them; it only acts in conformity to the laws made: and the government is in like manner governed by the constitution. can, then, mr. burke produce the english constitution? if he cannot, we may fairly conclude that though it has been so much talked about, no such thing as a constitution exists, or ever did exist, and consequently that the people have yet a constitution to form. mr. burke will not, i presume, deny the position i have already advanced--namely, that governments arise either out of the people or over the people. the english government is one of those which arose out of a conquest, and not out of society, and consequently it arose over the people; and though it has been much modified from the opportunity of circumstances since the time of william the conqueror, the country has never yet regenerated itself, and is therefore without a constitution. i readily perceive the reason why mr. burke declined going into the comparison between the english and french constitutions, because he could not but perceive, when he sat down to the task, that no such a thing as a constitution existed on his side the question. his book is certainly bulky enough to have contained all he could say on this subject, and it would have been the best manner in which people could have judged of their separate merits. why then has he declined the only thing that was worth while to write upon? it was the strongest ground he could take, if the advantages were on his side, but the weakest if they were not; and his declining to take it is either a sign that he could not possess it or could not maintain it. mr. burke said, in a speech last winter in parliament, "that when the national assembly first met in three orders (the tiers etat, the clergy, and the noblesse), france had then a good constitution." this shows, among numerous other instances, that mr. burke does not understand what a constitution is. the persons so met were not a constitution, but a convention, to make a constitution. the present national assembly of france is, strictly speaking, the personal social compact. the members of it are the delegates of the nation in its original character; future assemblies will be the delegates of the nation in its organised character. the authority of the present assembly is different from what the authority of future assemblies will be. the authority of the present one is to form a constitution; the authority of future assemblies will be to legislate according to the principles and forms prescribed in that constitution; and if experience should hereafter show that alterations, amendments, or additions are necessary, the constitution will point out the mode by which such things shall be done, and not leave it to the discretionary power of the future government. a government on the principles on which constitutional governments arising out of society are established, cannot have the right of altering itself. if it had, it would be arbitrary. it might make itself what it pleased; and wherever such a right is set up, it shows there is no constitution. the act by which the english parliament empowered itself to sit seven years, shows there is no constitution in england. it might, by the same self-authority, have sat any great number of years, or for life. the bill which the present mr. pitt brought into parliament some years ago, to reform parliament, was on the same erroneous principle. the right of reform is in the nation in its original character, and the constitutional method would be by a general convention elected for the purpose. there is, moreover, a paradox in the idea of vitiated bodies reforming themselves. from these preliminaries i proceed to draw some comparisons. i have already spoken of the declaration of rights; and as i mean to be as concise as possible, i shall proceed to other parts of the french constitution. the constitution of france says that every man who pays a tax of sixty sous per annum ( s. d. english) is an elector. what article will mr. burke place against this? can anything be more limited, and at the same time more capricious, than the qualification of electors is in england? limited--because not one man in an hundred (i speak much within compass) is admitted to vote. capricious--because the lowest character that can be supposed to exist, and who has not so much as the visible means of an honest livelihood, is an elector in some places: while in other places, the man who pays very large taxes, and has a known fair character, and the farmer who rents to the amount of three or four hundred pounds a year, with a property on that farm to three or four times that amount, is not admitted to be an elector. everything is out of nature, as mr. burke says on another occasion, in this strange chaos, and all sorts of follies are blended with all sorts of crimes. william the conqueror and his descendants parcelled out the country in this manner, and bribed some parts of it by what they call charters to hold the other parts of it the better subjected to their will. this is the reason why so many of those charters abound in cornwall; the people were averse to the government established at the conquest, and the towns were garrisoned and bribed to enslave the country. all the old charters are the badges of this conquest, and it is from this source that the capriciousness of election arises. the french constitution says that the number of representatives for any place shall be in a ratio to the number of taxable inhabitants or electors. what article will mr. burke place against this? the county of york, which contains nearly a million of souls, sends two county members; and so does the county of rutland, which contains not an hundredth part of that number. the old town of sarum, which contains not three houses, sends two members; and the town of manchester, which contains upward of sixty thousand souls, is not admitted to send any. is there any principle in these things? it is admitted that all this is altered, but there is much to be done yet, before we have a fair representation of the people. is there anything by which you can trace the marks of freedom, or discover those of wisdom? no wonder then mr. burke has declined the comparison, and endeavored to lead his readers from the point by a wild, unsystematical display of paradoxical rhapsodies. the french constitution says that the national assembly shall be elected every two years. what article will mr. burke place against this? why, that the nation has no right at all in the case; that the government is perfectly arbitrary with respect to this point; and he can quote for his authority the precedent of a former parliament. the french constitution says there shall be no game laws, that the farmer on whose lands wild game shall be found (for it is by the produce of his lands they are fed) shall have a right to what he can take; that there shall be no monopolies of any kind--that all trades shall be free and every man free to follow any occupation by which he can procure an honest livelihood, and in any place, town, or city throughout the nation. what will mr. burke say to this? in england, game is made the property of those at whose expense it is not fed; and with respect to monopolies, the country is cut up into monopolies. every chartered town is an aristocratical monopoly in itself, and the qualification of electors proceeds out of those chartered monopolies. is this freedom? is this what mr. burke means by a constitution? in these chartered monopolies, a man coming from another part of the country is hunted from them as if he were a foreign enemy. an englishman is not free of his own country; every one of those places presents a barrier in his way, and tells him he is not a freeman--that he has no rights. within these monopolies are other monopolies. in a city, such for instance as bath, which contains between twenty and thirty thousand inhabitants, the right of electing representatives to parliament is monopolised by about thirty-one persons. and within these monopolies are still others. a man even of the same town, whose parents were not in circumstances to give him an occupation, is debarred, in many cases, from the natural right of acquiring one, be his genius or industry what it may. are these things examples to hold out to a country regenerating itself from slavery, like france? certainly they are not, and certain am i, that when the people of england come to reflect upon them they will, like france, annihilate those badges of ancient oppression, those traces of a conquered nation. had mr. burke possessed talents similar to the author of "on the wealth of nations." he would have comprehended all the parts which enter into, and, by assemblage, form a constitution. he would have reasoned from minutiae to magnitude. it is not from his prejudices only, but from the disorderly cast of his genius, that he is unfitted for the subject he writes upon. even his genius is without a constitution. it is a genius at random, and not a genius constituted. but he must say something. he has therefore mounted in the air like a balloon, to draw the eyes of the multitude from the ground they stand upon. much is to be learned from the french constitution. conquest and tyranny transplanted themselves with william the conqueror from normandy into england, and the country is yet disfigured with the marks. may, then, the example of all france contribute to regenerate the freedom which a province of it destroyed! the french constitution says that to preserve the national representation from being corrupt, no member of the national assembly shall be an officer of the government, a placeman or a pensioner. what will mr. burke place against this? i will whisper his answer: loaves and fishes. ah! this government of loaves and fishes has more mischief in it than people have yet reflected on. the national assembly has made the discovery, and it holds out the example to the world. had governments agreed to quarrel on purpose to fleece their countries by taxes, they could not have succeeded better than they have done. everything in the english government appears to me the reverse of what it ought to be, and of what it is said to be. the parliament, imperfectly and capriciously elected as it is, is nevertheless supposed to hold the national purse in trust for the nation; but in the manner in which an english parliament is constructed it is like a man being both mortgagor and mortgagee, and in the case of misapplication of trust it is the criminal sitting in judgment upon himself. if those who vote the supplies are the same persons who receive the supplies when voted, and are to account for the expenditure of those supplies to those who voted them, it is themselves accountable to themselves, and the comedy of errors concludes with the pantomime of hush. neither the ministerial party nor the opposition will touch upon this case. the national purse is the common hack which each mounts upon. it is like what the country people call "ride and tie--you ride a little way, and then i."*[ ] they order these things better in france. the french constitution says that the right of war and peace is in the nation. where else should it reside but in those who are to pay the expense? in england this right is said to reside in a metaphor shown at the tower for sixpence or a shilling a piece: so are the lions; and it would be a step nearer to reason to say it resided in them, for any inanimate metaphor is no more than a hat or a cap. we can all see the absurdity of worshipping aaron's molten calf, or nebuchadnezzar's golden image; but why do men continue to practise themselves the absurdities they despise in others? it may with reason be said that in the manner the english nation is represented it signifies not where the right resides, whether in the crown or in the parliament. war is the common harvest of all those who participate in the division and expenditure of public money, in all countries. it is the art of conquering at home; the object of it is an increase of revenue; and as revenue cannot be increased without taxes, a pretence must be made for expenditure. in reviewing the history of the english government, its wars and its taxes, a bystander, not blinded by prejudice nor warped by interest, would declare that taxes were not raised to carry on wars, but that wars were raised to carry on taxes. mr. burke, as a member of the house of commons, is a part of the english government; and though he professes himself an enemy to war, he abuses the french constitution, which seeks to explode it. he holds up the english government as a model, in all its parts, to france; but he should first know the remarks which the french make upon it. they contend in favor of their own, that the portion of liberty enjoyed in england is just enough to enslave a country more productively than by despotism, and that as the real object of all despotism is revenue, a government so formed obtains more than it could do either by direct despotism, or in a full state of freedom, and is, therefore on the ground of interest, opposed to both. they account also for the readiness which always appears in such governments for engaging in wars by remarking on the different motives which produced them. in despotic governments wars are the effect of pride; but in those governments in which they become the means of taxation, they acquire thereby a more permanent promptitude. the french constitution, therefore, to provide against both these evils, has taken away the power of declaring war from kings and ministers, and placed the right where the expense must fall. when the question of the right of war and peace was agitating in the national assembly, the people of england appeared to be much interested in the event, and highly to applaud the decision. as a principle it applies as much to one country as another. william the conqueror, as a conqueror, held this power of war and peace in himself, and his descendants have ever since claimed it under him as a right. although mr. burke has asserted the right of the parliament at the revolution to bind and control the nation and posterity for ever, he denies at the same time that the parliament or the nation had any right to alter what he calls the succession of the crown in anything but in part, or by a sort of modification. by his taking this ground he throws the case back to the norman conquest, and by thus running a line of succession springing from william the conqueror to the present day, he makes it necessary to enquire who and what william the conqueror was, and where he came from, and into the origin, history and nature of what are called prerogatives. everything must have had a beginning, and the fog of time and antiquity should be penetrated to discover it. let, then, mr. burke bring forward his william of normandy, for it is to this origin that his argument goes. it also unfortunately happens, in running this line of succession, that another line parallel thereto presents itself, which is that if the succession runs in the line of the conquest, the nation runs in the line of being conquered, and it ought to rescue itself from this reproach. but it will perhaps be said that though the power of declaring war descends in the heritage of the conquest, it is held in check by the right of parliament to withhold the supplies. it will always happen when a thing is originally wrong that amendments do not make it right, and it often happens that they do as much mischief one way as good the other, and such is the case here, for if the one rashly declares war as a matter of right, and the other peremptorily withholds the supplies as a matter of right, the remedy becomes as bad, or worse, than the disease. the one forces the nation to a combat, and the other ties its hands; but the more probable issue is that the contest will end in a collusion between the parties, and be made a screen to both. on this question of war, three things are to be considered. first, the right of declaring it: secondly, the expense of supporting it: thirdly, the mode of conducting it after it is declared. the french constitution places the right where the expense must fall, and this union can only be in the nation. the mode of conducting it after it is declared, it consigns to the executive department. were this the case in all countries, we should hear but little more of wars. before i proceed to consider other parts of the french constitution, and by way of relieving the fatigue of argument, i will introduce an anecdote which i had from dr. franklin. while the doctor resided in france as minister from america, during the war, he had numerous proposals made to him by projectors of every country and of every kind, who wished to go to the land that floweth with milk and honey, america; and among the rest, there was one who offered himself to be king. he introduced his proposal to the doctor by letter, which is now in the hands of m. beaumarchais, of paris--stating, first, that as the americans had dismissed or sent away*[ ] their king, that they would want another. secondly, that himself was a norman. thirdly, that he was of a more ancient family than the dukes of normandy, and of a more honorable descent, his line having never been bastardised. fourthly, that there was already a precedent in england of kings coming out of normandy, and on these grounds he rested his offer, enjoining that the doctor would forward it to america. but as the doctor neither did this, nor yet sent him an answer, the projector wrote a second letter, in which he did not, it is true, threaten to go over and conquer america, but only with great dignity proposed that if his offer was not accepted, an acknowledgment of about l , might be made to him for his generosity! now, as all arguments respecting succession must necessarily connect that succession with some beginning, mr. burke's arguments on this subject go to show that there is no english origin of kings, and that they are descendants of the norman line in right of the conquest. it may, therefore, be of service to his doctrine to make this story known, and to inform him, that in case of that natural extinction to which all mortality is subject, kings may again be had from normandy, on more reasonable terms than william the conqueror; and consequently, that the good people of england, at the revolution of , might have done much better, had such a generous norman as this known their wants, and they had known his. the chivalric character which mr. burke so much admires, is certainly much easier to make a bargain with than a hard dealing dutchman. but to return to the matters of the constitution: the french constitution says, there shall be no titles; and, of consequence, all that class of equivocal generation which in some countries is called "aristocracy" and in others "nobility," is done away, and the peer is exalted into the man. titles are but nicknames, and every nickname is a title. the thing is perfectly harmless in itself, but it marks a sort of foppery in the human character, which degrades it. it reduces man into the diminutive of man in things which are great, and the counterfeit of women in things which are little. it talks about its fine blue ribbon like a girl, and shows its new garter like a child. a certain writer, of some antiquity, says: "when i was a child, i thought as a child; but when i became a man, i put away childish things." it is, properly, from the elevated mind of france that the folly of titles has fallen. it has outgrown the baby clothes of count and duke, and breeched itself in manhood. france has not levelled, it has exalted. it has put down the dwarf, to set up the man. the punyism of a senseless word like duke, count or earl has ceased to please. even those who possessed them have disowned the gibberish, and as they outgrew the rickets, have despised the rattle. the genuine mind of man, thirsting for its native home, society, contemns the gewgaws that separate him from it. titles are like circles drawn by the magician's wand, to contract the sphere of man's felicity. he lives immured within the bastille of a word, and surveys at a distance the envied life of man. is it, then, any wonder that titles should fall in france? is it not a greater wonder that they should be kept up anywhere? what are they? what is their worth, and "what is their amount?" when we think or speak of a judge or a general, we associate with it the ideas of office and character; we think of gravity in one and bravery in the other; but when we use the word merely as a title, no ideas associate with it. through all the vocabulary of adam there is not such an animal as a duke or a count; neither can we connect any certain ideas with the words. whether they mean strength or weakness, wisdom or folly, a child or a man, or the rider or the horse, is all equivocal. what respect then can be paid to that which describes nothing, and which means nothing? imagination has given figure and character to centaurs, satyrs, and down to all the fairy tribe; but titles baffle even the powers of fancy, and are a chimerical nondescript. but this is not all. if a whole country is disposed to hold them in contempt, all their value is gone, and none will own them. it is common opinion only that makes them anything, or nothing, or worse than nothing. there is no occasion to take titles away, for they take themselves away when society concurs to ridicule them. this species of imaginary consequence has visibly declined in every part of europe, and it hastens to its exit as the world of reason continues to rise. there was a time when the lowest class of what are called nobility was more thought of than the highest is now, and when a man in armour riding throughout christendom in quest of adventures was more stared at than a modern duke. the world has seen this folly fall, and it has fallen by being laughed at, and the farce of titles will follow its fate. the patriots of france have discovered in good time that rank and dignity in society must take a new ground. the old one has fallen through. it must now take the substantial ground of character, instead of the chimerical ground of titles; and they have brought their titles to the altar, and made of them a burnt-offering to reason. if no mischief had annexed itself to the folly of titles they would not have been worth a serious and formal destruction, such as the national assembly have decreed them; and this makes it necessary to enquire farther into the nature and character of aristocracy. that, then, which is called aristocracy in some countries and nobility in others arose out of the governments founded upon conquest. it was originally a military order for the purpose of supporting military government (for such were all governments founded in conquest); and to keep up a succession of this order for the purpose for which it was established, all the younger branches of those families were disinherited and the law of primogenitureship set up. the nature and character of aristocracy shows itself to us in this law. it is the law against every other law of nature, and nature herself calls for its destruction. establish family justice, and aristocracy falls. by the aristocratical law of primogenitureship, in a family of six children five are exposed. aristocracy has never more than one child. the rest are begotten to be devoured. they are thrown to the cannibal for prey, and the natural parent prepares the unnatural repast. as everything which is out of nature in man affects, more or less, the interest of society, so does this. all the children which the aristocracy disowns (which are all except the eldest) are, in general, cast like orphans on a parish, to be provided for by the public, but at a greater charge. unnecessary offices and places in governments and courts are created at the expense of the public to maintain them. with what kind of parental reflections can the father or mother contemplate their younger offspring? by nature they are children, and by marriage they are heirs; but by aristocracy they are bastards and orphans. they are the flesh and blood of their parents in the one line, and nothing akin to them in the other. to restore, therefore, parents to their children, and children to their parents relations to each other, and man to society--and to exterminate the monster aristocracy, root and branch--the french constitution has destroyed the law of primogenitureship. here then lies the monster; and mr. burke, if he pleases, may write its epitaph. hitherto we have considered aristocracy chiefly in one point of view. we have now to consider it in another. but whether we view it before or behind, or sideways, or any way else, domestically or publicly, it is still a monster. in france aristocracy had one feature less in its countenance than what it has in some other countries. it did not compose a body of hereditary legislators. it was not "a corporation of aristocracy," for such i have heard m. de la fayette describe an english house of peers. let us then examine the grounds upon which the french constitution has resolved against having such a house in france. because, in the first place, as is already mentioned, aristocracy is kept up by family tyranny and injustice. secondly. because there is an unnatural unfitness in an aristocracy to be legislators for a nation. their ideas of distributive justice are corrupted at the very source. they begin life by trampling on all their younger brothers and sisters, and relations of every kind, and are taught and educated so to do. with what ideas of justice or honour can that man enter a house of legislation, who absorbs in his own person the inheritance of a whole family of children or doles out to them some pitiful portion with the insolence of a gift? thirdly. because the idea of hereditary legislators is as inconsistent as that of hereditary judges, or hereditary juries; and as absurd as an hereditary mathematician, or an hereditary wise man; and as ridiculous as an hereditary poet laureate. fourthly. because a body of men, holding themselves accountable to nobody, ought not to be trusted by anybody. fifthly. because it is continuing the uncivilised principle of governments founded in conquest, and the base idea of man having property in man, and governing him by personal right. sixthly. because aristocracy has a tendency to deteriorate the human species. by the universal economy of nature it is known, and by the instance of the jews it is proved, that the human species has a tendency to degenerate, in any small number of persons, when separated from the general stock of society, and inter-marrying constantly with each other. it defeats even its pretended end, and becomes in time the opposite of what is noble in man. mr. burke talks of nobility; let him show what it is. the greatest characters the world have known have arisen on the democratic floor. aristocracy has not been able to keep a proportionate pace with democracy. the artificial noble shrinks into a dwarf before the noble of nature; and in the few instances of those (for there are some in all countries) in whom nature, as by a miracle, has survived in aristocracy, those men despise it.--but it is time to proceed to a new subject. the french constitution has reformed the condition of the clergy. it has raised the income of the lower and middle classes, and taken from the higher. none are now less than twelve hundred livres (fifty pounds sterling), nor any higher than two or three thousand pounds. what will mr. burke place against this? hear what he says. he says: "that the people of england can see without pain or grudging, an archbishop precede a duke; they can see a bishop of durham, or a bishop of winchester in possession of l , a-year; and cannot see why it is in worse hands than estates to a like amount, in the hands of this earl or that squire." and mr. burke offers this as an example to france. as to the first part, whether the archbishop precedes the duke, or the duke the bishop, it is, i believe, to the people in general, somewhat like sternhold and hopkins, or hopkins and sternhold; you may put which you please first; and as i confess that i do not understand the merits of this case, i will not contest it with mr. burke. but with respect to the latter, i have something to say. mr. burke has not put the case right. the comparison is out of order, by being put between the bishop and the earl or the squire. it ought to be put between the bishop and the curate, and then it will stand thus:--"the people of england can see without pain or grudging, a bishop of durham, or a bishop of winchester, in possession of ten thousand pounds a-year, and a curate on thirty or forty pounds a-year, or less." no, sir, they certainly do not see those things without great pain or grudging. it is a case that applies itself to every man's sense of justice, and is one among many that calls aloud for a constitution. in france the cry of "the church! the church!" was repeated as often as in mr. burke's book, and as loudly as when the dissenters' bill was before the english parliament; but the generality of the french clergy were not to be deceived by this cry any longer. they knew that whatever the pretence might be, it was they who were one of the principal objects of it. it was the cry of the high beneficed clergy, to prevent any regulation of income taking place between those of ten thousand pounds a-year and the parish priest. they therefore joined their case to those of every other oppressed class of men, and by this union obtained redress. the french constitution has abolished tythes, that source of perpetual discontent between the tythe-holder and the parishioner. when land is held on tythe, it is in the condition of an estate held between two parties; the one receiving one-tenth, and the other nine-tenths of the produce: and consequently, on principles of equity, if the estate can be improved, and made to produce by that improvement double or treble what it did before, or in any other ratio, the expense of such improvement ought to be borne in like proportion between the parties who are to share the produce. but this is not the case in tythes: the farmer bears the whole expense, and the tythe-holder takes a tenth of the improvement, in addition to the original tenth, and by this means gets the value of two-tenths instead of one. this is another case that calls for a constitution. the french constitution hath abolished or renounced toleration and intolerance also, and hath established universal right of conscience. toleration is not the opposite of intolerance, but is the counterfeit of it. both are despotisms. the one assumes to itself the right of withholding liberty of conscience, and the other of granting it. the one is the pope armed with fire and faggot, and the other is the pope selling or granting indulgences. the former is church and state, and the latter is church and traffic. but toleration may be viewed in a much stronger light. man worships not himself, but his maker; and the liberty of conscience which he claims is not for the service of himself, but of his god. in this case, therefore, we must necessarily have the associated idea of two things; the mortal who renders the worship, and the immortal being who is worshipped. toleration, therefore, places itself, not between man and man, nor between church and church, nor between one denomination of religion and another, but between god and man; between the being who worships, and the being who is worshipped; and by the same act of assumed authority which it tolerates man to pay his worship, it presumptuously and blasphemously sets itself up to tolerate the almighty to receive it. were a bill brought into any parliament, entitled, "an act to tolerate or grant liberty to the almighty to receive the worship of a jew or turk," or "to prohibit the almighty from receiving it," all men would startle and call it blasphemy. there would be an uproar. the presumption of toleration in religious matters would then present itself unmasked; but the presumption is not the less because the name of "man" only appears to those laws, for the associated idea of the worshipper and the worshipped cannot be separated. who then art thou, vain dust and ashes! by whatever name thou art called, whether a king, a bishop, a church, or a state, a parliament, or anything else, that obtrudest thine insignificance between the soul of man and its maker? mind thine own concerns. if he believes not as thou believest, it is a proof that thou believest not as he believes, and there is no earthly power can determine between you. with respect to what are called denominations of religion, if every one is left to judge of its own religion, there is no such thing as a religion that is wrong; but if they are to judge of each other's religion, there is no such thing as a religion that is right; and therefore all the world is right, or all the world is wrong. but with respect to religion itself, without regard to names, and as directing itself from the universal family of mankind to the divine object of all adoration, it is man bringing to his maker the fruits of his heart; and though those fruits may differ from each other like the fruits of the earth, the grateful tribute of every one is accepted. a bishop of durham, or a bishop of winchester, or the archbishop who heads the dukes, will not refuse a tythe-sheaf of wheat because it is not a cock of hay, nor a cock of hay because it is not a sheaf of wheat; nor a pig, because it is neither one nor the other; but these same persons, under the figure of an established church, will not permit their maker to receive the varied tythes of man's devotion. one of the continual choruses of mr. burke's book is "church and state." he does not mean some one particular church, or some one particular state, but any church and state; and he uses the term as a general figure to hold forth the political doctrine of always uniting the church with the state in every country, and he censures the national assembly for not having done this in france. let us bestow a few thoughts on this subject. all religions are in their nature kind and benign, and united with principles of morality. they could not have made proselytes at first by professing anything that was vicious, cruel, persecuting, or immoral. like everything else, they had their beginning; and they proceeded by persuasion, exhortation, and example. how then is it that they lose their native mildness, and become morose and intolerant? it proceeds from the connection which mr. burke recommends. by engendering the church with the state, a sort of mule-animal, capable only of destroying, and not of breeding up, is produced, called the church established by law. it is a stranger, even from its birth, to any parent mother, on whom it is begotten, and whom in time it kicks out and destroys. the inquisition in spain does not proceed from the religion originally professed, but from this mule-animal, engendered between the church and the state. the burnings in smithfield proceeded from the same heterogeneous production; and it was the regeneration of this strange animal in england afterwards, that renewed rancour and irreligion among the inhabitants, and that drove the people called quakers and dissenters to america. persecution is not an original feature in any religion; but it is alway the strongly-marked feature of all law-religions, or religions established by law. take away the law-establishment, and every religion re-assumes its original benignity. in america, a catholic priest is a good citizen, a good character, and a good neighbour; an episcopalian minister is of the same description: and this proceeds independently of the men, from there being no law-establishment in america. if also we view this matter in a temporal sense, we shall see the ill effects it has had on the prosperity of nations. the union of church and state has impoverished spain. the revoking the edict of nantes drove the silk manufacture from that country into england; and church and state are now driving the cotton manufacture from england to america and france. let then mr. burke continue to preach his antipolitical doctrine of church and state. it will do some good. the national assembly will not follow his advice, but will benefit by his folly. it was by observing the ill effects of it in england, that america has been warned against it; and it is by experiencing them in france, that the national assembly have abolished it, and, like america, have established universal right of conscience, and universal right of citizenship.*[ ] i will here cease the comparison with respect to the principles of the french constitution, and conclude this part of the subject with a few observations on the organisation of the formal parts of the french and english governments. the executive power in each country is in the hands of a person styled the king; but the french constitution distinguishes between the king and the sovereign: it considers the station of king as official, and places sovereignty in the nation. the representatives of the nation, who compose the national assembly, and who are the legislative power, originate in and from the people by election, as an inherent right in the people.--in england it is otherwise; and this arises from the original establishment of what is called its monarchy; for, as by the conquest all the rights of the people or the nation were absorbed into the hands of the conqueror, and who added the title of king to that of conqueror, those same matters which in france are now held as rights in the people, or in the nation, are held in england as grants from what is called the crown. the parliament in england, in both its branches, was erected by patents from the descendants of the conqueror. the house of commons did not originate as a matter of right in the people to delegate or elect, but as a grant or boon. by the french constitution the nation is always named before the king. the third article of the declaration of rights says: "the nation is essentially the source (or fountain) of all sovereignty." mr. burke argues that in england a king is the fountain--that he is the fountain of all honour. but as this idea is evidently descended from the conquest i shall make no other remark upon it, than that it is the nature of conquest to turn everything upside down; and as mr. burke will not be refused the privilege of speaking twice, and as there are but two parts in the figure, the fountain and the spout, he will be right the second time. the french constitution puts the legislative before the executive, the law before the king; la loi, le roi. this also is in the natural order of things, because laws must have existence before they can have execution. a king in france does not, in addressing himself to the national assembly, say, "my assembly," similar to the phrase used in england of my "parliament"; neither can he use it consistently with the constitution, nor could it be admitted. there may be propriety in the use of it in england, because as is before mentioned, both houses of parliament originated from what is called the crown by patent or boon--and not from the inherent rights of the people, as the national assembly does in france, and whose name designates its origin. the president of the national assembly does not ask the king to grant to the assembly liberty of speech, as is the case with the english house of commons. the constitutional dignity of the national assembly cannot debase itself. speech is, in the first place, one of the natural rights of man always retained; and with respect to the national assembly the use of it is their duty, and the nation is their authority. they were elected by the greatest body of men exercising the right of election the european world ever saw. they sprung not from the filth of rotten boroughs, nor are they the vassal representatives of aristocratical ones. feeling the proper dignity of their character they support it. their parliamentary language, whether for or against a question, is free, bold and manly, and extends to all the parts and circumstances of the case. if any matter or subject respecting the executive department or the person who presides in it (the king) comes before them it is debated on with the spirit of men, and in the language of gentlemen; and their answer or their address is returned in the same style. they stand not aloof with the gaping vacuity of vulgar ignorance, nor bend with the cringe of sycophantic insignificance. the graceful pride of truth knows no extremes, and preserves, in every latitude of life, the right-angled character of man. let us now look to the other side of the question. in the addresses of the english parliaments to their kings we see neither the intrepid spirit of the old parliaments of france, nor the serene dignity of the present national assembly; neither do we see in them anything of the style of english manners, which border somewhat on bluntness. since then they are neither of foreign extraction, nor naturally of english production, their origin must be sought for elsewhere, and that origin is the norman conquest. they are evidently of the vassalage class of manners, and emphatically mark the prostrate distance that exists in no other condition of men than between the conqueror and the conquered. that this vassalage idea and style of speaking was not got rid of even at the revolution of , is evident from the declaration of parliament to william and mary in these words: "we do most humbly and faithfully submit ourselves, our heirs and posterities, for ever." submission is wholly a vassalage term, repugnant to the dignity of freedom, and an echo of the language used at the conquest. as the estimation of all things is given by comparison, the revolution of , however from circumstances it may have been exalted beyond its value, will find its level. it is already on the wane, eclipsed by the enlarging orb of reason, and the luminous revolutions of america and france. in less than another century it will go, as well as mr. burke's labours, "to the family vault of all the capulets." mankind will then scarcely believe that a country calling itself free would send to holland for a man, and clothe him with power on purpose to put themselves in fear of him, and give him almost a million sterling a year for leave to submit themselves and their posterity, like bondmen and bondwomen, for ever. but there is a truth that ought to be made known; i have had the opportunity of seeing it; which is, that notwithstanding appearances, there is not any description of men that despise monarchy so much as courtiers. but they well know, that if it were seen by others, as it is seen by them, the juggle could not be kept up; they are in the condition of men who get their living by a show, and to whom the folly of that show is so familiar that they ridicule it; but were the audience to be made as wise in this respect as themselves, there would be an end to the show and the profits with it. the difference between a republican and a courtier with respect to monarchy, is that the one opposes monarchy, believing it to be something; and the other laughs at it, knowing it to be nothing. as i used sometimes to correspond with mr. burke believing him then to be a man of sounder principles than his book shows him to be, i wrote to him last winter from paris, and gave him an account how prosperously matters were going on. among other subjects in that letter, i referred to the happy situation the national assembly were placed in; that they had taken ground on which their moral duty and their political interest were united. they have not to hold out a language which they do not themselves believe, for the fraudulent purpose of making others believe it. their station requires no artifice to support it, and can only be maintained by enlightening mankind. it is not their interest to cherish ignorance, but to dispel it. they are not in the case of a ministerial or an opposition party in england, who, though they are opposed, are still united to keep up the common mystery. the national assembly must throw open a magazine of light. it must show man the proper character of man; and the nearer it can bring him to that standard, the stronger the national assembly becomes. in contemplating the french constitution, we see in it a rational order of things. the principles harmonise with the forms, and both with their origin. it may perhaps be said as an excuse for bad forms, that they are nothing more than forms; but this is a mistake. forms grow out of principles, and operate to continue the principles they grow from. it is impossible to practise a bad form on anything but a bad principle. it cannot be ingrafted on a good one; and wherever the forms in any government are bad, it is a certain indication that the principles are bad also. i will here finally close this subject. i began it by remarking that mr. burke had voluntarily declined going into a comparison of the english and french constitutions. he apologises (in page ) for not doing it, by saying that he had not time. mr. burke's book was upwards of eight months in hand, and is extended to a volume of three hundred and sixty-six pages. as his omission does injury to his cause, his apology makes it worse; and men on the english side of the water will begin to consider, whether there is not some radical defect in what is called the english constitution, that made it necessary for mr. burke to suppress the comparison, to avoid bringing it into view. as mr. burke has not written on constitutions so neither has he written on the french revolution. he gives no account of its commencement or its progress. he only expresses his wonder. "it looks," says he, "to me, as if i were in a great crisis, not of the affairs of france alone, but of all europe, perhaps of more than europe. all circumstances taken together, the french revolution is the most astonishing that has hitherto happened in the world." as wise men are astonished at foolish things, and other people at wise ones, i know not on which ground to account for mr. burke's astonishment; but certain it is, that he does not understand the french revolution. it has apparently burst forth like a creation from a chaos, but it is no more than the consequence of a mental revolution priorily existing in france. the mind of the nation had changed beforehand, and the new order of things has naturally followed the new order of thoughts. i will here, as concisely as i can, trace out the growth of the french revolution, and mark the circumstances that have contributed to produce it. the despotism of louis xiv., united with the gaiety of his court, and the gaudy ostentation of his character, had so humbled, and at the same time so fascinated the mind of france, that the people appeared to have lost all sense of their own dignity, in contemplating that of their grand monarch; and the whole reign of louis xv., remarkable only for weakness and effeminacy, made no other alteration than that of spreading a sort of lethargy over the nation, from which it showed no disposition to rise. the only signs which appeared to the spirit of liberty during those periods, are to be found in the writings of the french philosophers. montesquieu, president of the parliament of bordeaux, went as far as a writer under a despotic government could well proceed; and being obliged to divide himself between principle and prudence, his mind often appears under a veil, and we ought to give him credit for more than he has expressed. voltaire, who was both the flatterer and the satirist of despotism, took another line. his forte lay in exposing and ridiculing the superstitions which priest-craft, united with state-craft, had interwoven with governments. it was not from the purity of his principles, or his love of mankind (for satire and philanthropy are not naturally concordant), but from his strong capacity of seeing folly in its true shape, and his irresistible propensity to expose it, that he made those attacks. they were, however, as formidable as if the motive had been virtuous; and he merits the thanks rather than the esteem of mankind. on the contrary, we find in the writings of rousseau, and the abbe raynal, a loveliness of sentiment in favour of liberty, that excites respect, and elevates the human faculties; but having raised this animation, they do not direct its operation, and leave the mind in love with an object, without describing the means of possessing it. the writings of quesnay, turgot, and the friends of those authors, are of the serious kind; but they laboured under the same disadvantage with montesquieu; their writings abound with moral maxims of government, but are rather directed to economise and reform the administration of the government, than the government itself. but all those writings and many others had their weight; and by the different manner in which they treated the subject of government, montesquieu by his judgment and knowledge of laws, voltaire by his wit, rousseau and raynal by their animation, and quesnay and turgot by their moral maxims and systems of economy, readers of every class met with something to their taste, and a spirit of political inquiry began to diffuse itself through the nation at the time the dispute between england and the then colonies of america broke out. in the war which france afterwards engaged in, it is very well known that the nation appeared to be before-hand with the french ministry. each of them had its view; but those views were directed to different objects; the one sought liberty, and the other retaliation on england. the french officers and soldiers who after this went to america, were eventually placed in the school of freedom, and learned the practice as well as the principles of it by heart. as it was impossible to separate the military events which took place in america from the principles of the american revolution, the publication of those events in france necessarily connected themselves with the principles which produced them. many of the facts were in themselves principles; such as the declaration of american independence, and the treaty of alliance between france and america, which recognised the natural rights of man, and justified resistance to oppression. the then minister of france, count vergennes, was not the friend of america; and it is both justice and gratitude to say, that it was the queen of france who gave the cause of america a fashion at the french court. count vergennes was the personal and social friend of dr. franklin; and the doctor had obtained, by his sensible gracefulness, a sort of influence over him; but with respect to principles count vergennes was a despot. the situation of dr. franklin, as minister from america to france, should be taken into the chain of circumstances. the diplomatic character is of itself the narrowest sphere of society that man can act in. it forbids intercourse by the reciprocity of suspicion; and a diplomatic is a sort of unconnected atom, continually repelling and repelled. but this was not the case with dr. franklin. he was not the diplomatic of a court, but of man. his character as a philosopher had been long established, and his circle of society in france was universal. count vergennes resisted for a considerable time the publication in france of american constitutions, translated into the french language: but even in this he was obliged to give way to public opinion, and a sort of propriety in admitting to appear what he had undertaken to defend. the american constitutions were to liberty what a grammar is to language: they define its parts of speech, and practically construct them into syntax. the peculiar situation of the then marquis de la fayette is another link in the great chain. he served in america as an american officer under a commission of congress, and by the universality of his acquaintance was in close friendship with the civil government of america, as well as with the military line. he spoke the language of the country, entered into the discussions on the principles of government, and was always a welcome friend at any election. when the war closed, a vast reinforcement to the cause of liberty spread itself over france, by the return of the french officers and soldiers. a knowledge of the practice was then joined to the theory; and all that was wanting to give it real existence was opportunity. man cannot, properly speaking, make circumstances for his purpose, but he always has it in his power to improve them when they occur, and this was the case in france. m. neckar was displaced in may, ; and by the ill-management of the finances afterwards, and particularly during the extravagant administration of m. calonne, the revenue of france, which was nearly twenty-four millions sterling per year, was become unequal to the expenditure, not because the revenue had decreased, but because the expenses had increased; and this was a circumstance which the nation laid hold of to bring forward a revolution. the english minister, mr. pitt, has frequently alluded to the state of the french finances in his budgets, without understanding the subject. had the french parliaments been as ready to register edicts for new taxes as an english parliament is to grant them, there had been no derangement in the finances, nor yet any revolution; but this will better explain itself as i proceed. it will be necessary here to show how taxes were formerly raised in france. the king, or rather the court or ministry acting under the use of that name, framed the edicts for taxes at their own discretion, and sent them to the parliaments to be registered; for until they were registered by the parliaments they were not operative. disputes had long existed between the court and the parliaments with respect to the extent of the parliament's authority on this head. the court insisted that the authority of parliaments went no farther than to remonstrate or show reasons against the tax, reserving to itself the right of determining whether the reasons were well or ill-founded; and in consequence thereof, either to withdraw the edict as a matter of choice, or to order it to be unregistered as a matter of authority. the parliaments on their part insisted that they had not only a right to remonstrate, but to reject; and on this ground they were always supported by the nation. but to return to the order of my narrative. m. calonne wanted money: and as he knew the sturdy disposition of the parliaments with respect to new taxes, he ingeniously sought either to approach them by a more gentle means than that of direct authority, or to get over their heads by a manoeuvre; and for this purpose he revived the project of assembling a body of men from the several provinces, under the style of an "assembly of the notables," or men of note, who met in , and who were either to recommend taxes to the parliaments, or to act as a parliament themselves. an assembly under this name had been called in . as we are to view this as the first practical step towards the revolution, it will be proper to enter into some particulars respecting it. the assembly of the notables has in some places been mistaken for the states-general, but was wholly a different body, the states-general being always by election. the persons who composed the assembly of the notables were all nominated by the king, and consisted of one hundred and forty members. but as m. calonne could not depend upon a majority of this assembly in his favour, he very ingeniously arranged them in such a manner as to make forty-four a majority of one hundred and forty; to effect this he disposed of them into seven separate committees, of twenty members each. every general question was to be decided, not by a majority of persons, but by a majority of committee, and as eleven votes would make a majority in a committee, and four committees a majority of seven, m. calonne had good reason to conclude that as forty-four would determine any general question he could not be outvoted. but all his plans deceived him, and in the event became his overthrow. the then marquis de la fayette was placed in the second committee, of which the count d'artois was president, and as money matters were the object, it naturally brought into view every circumstance connected with it. m. de la fayette made a verbal charge against calonne for selling crown lands to the amount of two millions of livres, in a manner that appeared to be unknown to the king. the count d'artois (as if to intimidate, for the bastille was then in being) asked the marquis if he would render the charge in writing? he replied that he would. the count d'artois did not demand it, but brought a message from the king to that purport. m. de la fayette then delivered in his charge in writing, to be given to the king, undertaking to support it. no farther proceedings were had upon this affair, but m. calonne was soon after dismissed by the king and set off to england. as m. de la fayette, from the experience of what he had seen in america, was better acquainted with the science of civil government than the generality of the members who composed the assembly of the notables could then be, the brunt of the business fell considerably to his share. the plan of those who had a constitution in view was to contend with the court on the ground of taxes, and some of them openly professed their object. disputes frequently arose between count d'artois and m. de la fayette upon various subjects. with respect to the arrears already incurred the latter proposed to remedy them by accommodating the expenses to the revenue instead of the revenue to the expenses; and as objects of reform he proposed to abolish the bastille and all the state prisons throughout the nation (the keeping of which was attended with great expense), and to suppress lettres de cachet; but those matters were not then much attended to, and with respect to lettres de cachet, a majority of the nobles appeared to be in favour of them. on the subject of supplying the treasury by new taxes the assembly declined taking the matter on themselves, concurring in the opinion that they had not authority. in a debate on this subject m. de la fayette said that raising money by taxes could only be done by a national assembly, freely elected by the people, and acting as their representatives. do you mean, said the count d'artois, the states-general? m. de la fayette replied that he did. will you, said the count d'artois, sign what you say to be given to the king? the other replied that he would not only do this but that he would go farther, and say that the effectual mode would be for the king to agree to the establishment of a constitution. as one of the plans had thus failed, that of getting the assembly to act as a parliament, the other came into view, that of recommending. on this subject the assembly agreed to recommend two new taxes to be unregistered by the parliament: the one a stamp-tax and the other a territorial tax, or sort of land-tax. the two have been estimated at about five millions sterling per annum. we have now to turn our attention to the parliaments, on whom the business was again devolving. the archbishop of thoulouse (since archbishop of sens, and now a cardinal), was appointed to the administration of the finances soon after the dismission of calonne. he was also made prime minister, an office that did not always exist in france. when this office did not exist, the chief of each of the principal departments transacted business immediately with the king, but when a prime minister was appointed they did business only with him. the archbishop arrived to more state authority than any minister since the duke de choiseul, and the nation was strongly disposed in his favour; but by a line of conduct scarcely to be accounted for he perverted every opportunity, turned out a despot, and sunk into disgrace, and a cardinal. the assembly of the notables having broken up, the minister sent the edicts for the two new taxes recommended by the assembly to the parliaments to be unregistered. they of course came first before the parliament of paris, who returned for answer: "that with such a revenue as the nation then supported the name of taxes ought not to be mentioned but for the purpose of reducing them"; and threw both the edicts out.*[ ] on this refusal the parliament was ordered to versailles, where, in the usual form, the king held what under the old government was called a bed of justice; and the two edicts were unregistered in presence of the parliament by an order of state, in the manner mentioned, earlier. on this the parliament immediately returned to paris, renewed their session in form, and ordered the enregistering to be struck out, declaring that everything done at versailles was illegal. all the members of the parliament were then served with lettres de cachet, and exiled to troyes; but as they continued as inflexible in exile as before, and as vengeance did not supply the place of taxes, they were after a short time recalled to paris. the edicts were again tendered to them, and the count d'artois undertook to act as representative of the king. for this purpose he came from versailles to paris, in a train of procession; and the parliament were assembled to receive him. but show and parade had lost their influence in france; and whatever ideas of importance he might set off with, he had to return with those of mortification and disappointment. on alighting from his carriage to ascend the steps of the parliament house, the crowd (which was numerously collected) threw out trite expressions, saying: "this is monsieur d'artois, who wants more of our money to spend." the marked disapprobation which he saw impressed him with apprehensions, and the word aux armes! (to arms!) was given out by the officer of the guard who attended him. it was so loudly vociferated, that it echoed through the avenues of the house, and produced a temporary confusion. i was then standing in one of the apartments through which he had to pass, and could not avoid reflecting how wretched was the condition of a disrespected man. he endeavoured to impress the parliament by great words, and opened his authority by saying, "the king, our lord and master." the parliament received him very coolly, and with their usual determination not to register the taxes: and in this manner the interview ended. after this a new subject took place: in the various debates and contests which arose between the court and the parliaments on the subject of taxes, the parliament of paris at last declared that although it had been customary for parliaments to enregister edicts for taxes as a matter of convenience, the right belonged only to the states-general; and that, therefore, the parliament could no longer with propriety continue to debate on what it had not authority to act. the king after this came to paris and held a meeting with the parliament, in which he continued from ten in the morning till about six in the evening, and, in a manner that appeared to proceed from him as if unconsulted upon with the cabinet or ministry, gave his word to the parliament that the states-general should be convened. but after this another scene arose, on a ground different from all the former. the minister and the cabinet were averse to calling the states-general. they well knew that if the states-general were assembled, themselves must fall; and as the king had not mentioned any time, they hit on a project calculated to elude, without appearing to oppose. for this purpose, the court set about making a sort of constitution itself. it was principally the work of m. lamoignon, the keeper of the seals, who afterwards shot himself. this new arrangement consisted in establishing a body under the name of a cour pleniere, or full court, in which were invested all the powers that the government might have occasion to make use of. the persons composing this court were to be nominated by the king; the contended right of taxation was given up on the part of the king, and a new criminal code of laws and law proceedings was substituted in the room of the former. the thing, in many points, contained better principles than those upon which the government had hitherto been administered; but with respect to the cour pleniere, it was no other than a medium through which despotism was to pass, without appearing to act directly from itself. the cabinet had high expectations from their new contrivance. the people who were to compose the cour pleniere were already nominated; and as it was necessary to carry a fair appearance, many of the best characters in the nation were appointed among the number. it was to commence on may , ; but an opposition arose to it on two grounds the one as to principle, the other as to form. on the ground of principle it was contended that government had not a right to alter itself, and that if the practice was once admitted it would grow into a principle and be made a precedent for any future alterations the government might wish to establish: that the right of altering the government was a national right, and not a right of government. and on the ground of form it was contended that the cour pleniere was nothing more than a larger cabinet. the then duke de la rochefoucault, luxembourg, de noailles, and many others, refused to accept the nomination, and strenuously opposed the whole plan. when the edict for establishing this new court was sent to the parliaments to be unregistered and put into execution, they resisted also. the parliament of paris not only refused, but denied the authority; and the contest renewed itself between the parliament and the cabinet more strongly than ever. while the parliament were sitting in debate on this subject, the ministry ordered a regiment of soldiers to surround the house and form a blockade. the members sent out for beds and provisions, and lived as in a besieged citadel: and as this had no effect, the commanding officer was ordered to enter the parliament house and seize them, which he did, and some of the principal members were shut up in different prisons. about the same time a deputation of persons arrived from the province of brittany to remonstrate against the establishment of the cour pleniere, and those the archbishop sent to the bastille. but the spirit of the nation was not to be overcome, and it was so fully sensible of the strong ground it had taken--that of withholding taxes--that it contented itself with keeping up a sort of quiet resistance, which effectually overthrew all the plans at that time formed against it. the project of the cour pleniere was at last obliged to be given up, and the prime minister not long afterwards followed its fate, and m. neckar was recalled into office. the attempt to establish the cour pleniere had an effect upon the nation which itself did not perceive. it was a sort of new form of government that insensibly served to put the old one out of sight and to unhinge it from the superstitious authority of antiquity. it was government dethroning government; and the old one, by attempting to make a new one, made a chasm. the failure of this scheme renewed the subject of convening the state-general; and this gave rise to a new series of politics. there was no settled form for convening the states-general: all that it positively meant was a deputation from what was then called the clergy, the noblesse, and the commons; but their numbers or their proportions had not been always the same. they had been convened only on extraordinary occasions, the last of which was in ; their numbers were then in equal proportions, and they voted by orders. it could not well escape the sagacity of m. neckar, that the mode of would answer neither the purpose of the then government nor of the nation. as matters were at that time circumstanced it would have been too contentious to agree upon anything. the debates would have been endless upon privileges and exemptions, in which neither the wants of the government nor the wishes of the nation for a constitution would have been attended to. but as he did not choose to take the decision upon himself, he summoned again the assembly of the notables and referred it to them. this body was in general interested in the decision, being chiefly of aristocracy and high-paid clergy, and they decided in favor of the mode of . this decision was against the sense of the nation, and also against the wishes of the court; for the aristocracy opposed itself to both and contended for privileges independent of either. the subject was then taken up by the parliament, who recommended that the number of the commons should be equal to the other two: and they should all sit in one house and vote in one body. the number finally determined on was , ; to be chosen by the commons (and this was less than their proportion ought to have been when their worth and consequence is considered on a national scale), by the clergy, and by the aristocracy; but with respect to the mode of assembling themselves, whether together or apart, or the manner in which they should vote, those matters were referred.*[ ] the election that followed was not a contested election, but an animated one. the candidates were not men, but principles. societies were formed in paris, and committees of correspondence and communication established throughout the nation, for the purpose of enlightening the people, and explaining to them the principles of civil government; and so orderly was the election conducted, that it did not give rise even to the rumour of tumult. the states-general were to meet at versailles in april , but did not assemble till may. they situated themselves in three separate chambers, or rather the clergy and aristocracy withdrew each into a separate chamber. the majority of the aristocracy claimed what they called the privilege of voting as a separate body, and of giving their consent or their negative in that manner; and many of the bishops and the high-beneficed clergy claimed the same privilege on the part of their order. the tiers etat (as they were then called) disowned any knowledge of artificial orders and artificial privileges; and they were not only resolute on this point, but somewhat disdainful. they began to consider the aristocracy as a kind of fungus growing out of the corruption of society, that could not be admitted even as a branch of it; and from the disposition the aristocracy had shown by upholding lettres de cachet, and in sundry other instances, it was manifest that no constitution could be formed by admitting men in any other character than as national men. after various altercations on this head, the tiers etat or commons (as they were then called) declared themselves (on a motion made for that purpose by the abbe sieyes) "the representative of the nation; and that the two orders could be considered but as deputies of corporations, and could only have a deliberate voice when they assembled in a national character with the national representatives." this proceeding extinguished the style of etats generaux, or states-general, and erected it into the style it now bears, that of l'assemblee nationale, or national assembly. this motion was not made in a precipitate manner. it was the result of cool deliberation, and concerned between the national representatives and the patriotic members of the two chambers, who saw into the folly, mischief, and injustice of artificial privileged distinctions. it was become evident, that no constitution, worthy of being called by that name, could be established on anything less than a national ground. the aristocracy had hitherto opposed the despotism of the court, and affected the language of patriotism; but it opposed it as its rival (as the english barons opposed king john) and it now opposed the nation from the same motives. on carrying this motion, the national representatives, as had been concerted, sent an invitation to the two chambers, to unite with them in a national character, and proceed to business. a majority of the clergy, chiefly of the parish priests, withdrew from the clerical chamber, and joined the nation; and forty-five from the other chamber joined in like manner. there is a sort of secret history belonging to this last circumstance, which is necessary to its explanation; it was not judged prudent that all the patriotic members of the chamber styling itself the nobles, should quit it at once; and in consequence of this arrangement, they drew off by degrees, always leaving some, as well to reason the case, as to watch the suspected. in a little time the numbers increased from forty-five to eighty, and soon after to a greater number; which, with the majority of the clergy, and the whole of the national representatives, put the malcontents in a very diminutive condition. the king, who, very different from the general class called by that name, is a man of a good heart, showed himself disposed to recommend a union of the three chambers, on the ground the national assembly had taken; but the malcontents exerted themselves to prevent it, and began now to have another project in view. their numbers consisted of a majority of the aristocratical chamber, and the minority of the clerical chamber, chiefly of bishops and high-beneficed clergy; and these men were determined to put everything to issue, as well by strength as by stratagem. they had no objection to a constitution; but it must be such a one as themselves should dictate, and suited to their own views and particular situations. on the other hand, the nation disowned knowing anything of them but as citizens, and was determined to shut out all such up-start pretensions. the more aristocracy appeared, the more it was despised; there was a visible imbecility and want of intellects in the majority, a sort of je ne sais quoi, that while it affected to be more than citizen, was less than man. it lost ground from contempt more than from hatred; and was rather jeered at as an ass, than dreaded as a lion. this is the general character of aristocracy, or what are called nobles or nobility, or rather no-ability, in all countries. the plan of the malcontents consisted now of two things; either to deliberate and vote by chambers (or orders), more especially on all questions respecting a constitution (by which the aristocratical chamber would have had a negative on any article of the constitution); or, in case they could not accomplish this object, to overthrow the national assembly entirely. to effect one or other of these objects they began to cultivate a friendship with the despotism they had hitherto attempted to rival, and the count d'artois became their chief. the king (who has since declared himself deceived into their measures) held, according to the old form, a bed of justice, in which he accorded to the deliberation and vote par tete (by head) upon several subjects; but reserved the deliberation and vote upon all questions respecting a constitution to the three chambers separately. this declaration of the king was made against the advice of m. neckar, who now began to perceive that he was growing out of fashion at court, and that another minister was in contemplation. as the form of sitting in separate chambers was yet apparently kept up, though essentially destroyed, the national representatives immediately after this declaration of the king resorted to their own chambers to consult on a protest against it; and the minority of the chamber (calling itself the nobles), who had joined the national cause, retired to a private house to consult in like manner. the malcontents had by this time concerted their measures with the court, which the count d'artois undertook to conduct; and as they saw from the discontent which the declaration excited, and the opposition making against it, that they could not obtain a control over the intended constitution by a separate vote, they prepared themselves for their final object--that of conspiring against the national assembly, and overthrowing it. the next morning the door of the chamber of the national assembly was shut against them, and guarded by troops; and the members were refused admittance. on this they withdrew to a tennis-ground in the neighbourhood of versailles, as the most convenient place they could find, and, after renewing their session, took an oath never to separate from each other, under any circumstance whatever, death excepted, until they had established a constitution. as the experiment of shutting up the house had no other effect than that of producing a closer connection in the members, it was opened again the next day, and the public business recommenced in the usual place. we are now to have in view the forming of the new ministry, which was to accomplish the overthrow of the national assembly. but as force would be necessary, orders were issued to assemble thirty thousand troops, the command of which was given to broglio, one of the intended new ministry, who was recalled from the country for this purpose. but as some management was necessary to keep this plan concealed till the moment it should be ready for execution, it is to this policy that a declaration made by count d'artois must be attributed, and which is here proper to be introduced. it could not but occur while the malcontents continued to resort to their chambers separate from the national assembly, more jealousy would be excited than if they were mixed with it, and that the plot might be suspected. but as they had taken their ground, and now wanted a pretence for quitting it, it was necessary that one should be devised. this was effectually accomplished by a declaration made by the count d'artois: "that if they took not a part in the national assembly, the life of the king would be endangered": on which they quitted their chambers, and mixed with the assembly, in one body. at the time this declaration was made, it was generally treated as a piece of absurdity in count d'artois calculated merely to relieve the outstanding members of the two chambers from the diminutive situation they were put in; and if nothing more had followed, this conclusion would have been good. but as things best explain themselves by their events, this apparent union was only a cover to the machinations which were secretly going on; and the declaration accommodated itself to answer that purpose. in a little time the national assembly found itself surrounded by troops, and thousands more were daily arriving. on this a very strong declaration was made by the national assembly to the king, remonstrating on the impropriety of the measure, and demanding the reason. the king, who was not in the secret of this business, as himself afterwards declared, gave substantially for answer, that he had no other object in view than to preserve the public tranquility, which appeared to be much disturbed. but in a few days from this time the plot unravelled itself m. neckar and the ministry were displaced, and a new one formed of the enemies of the revolution; and broglio, with between twenty-five and thirty thousand foreign troops, was arrived to support them. the mask was now thrown off, and matters were come to a crisis. the event was that in a space of three days the new ministry and their abettors found it prudent to fly the nation; the bastille was taken, and broglio and his foreign troops dispersed, as is already related in the former part of this work. there are some curious circumstances in the history of this short-lived ministry, and this short-lived attempt at a counter-revolution. the palace of versailles, where the court was sitting, was not more than four hundred yards distant from the hall where the national assembly was sitting. the two places were at this moment like the separate headquarters of two combatant armies; yet the court was as perfectly ignorant of the information which had arrived from paris to the national assembly, as if it had resided at an hundred miles distance. the then marquis de la fayette, who (as has been already mentioned) was chosen to preside in the national assembly on this particular occasion, named by order of the assembly three successive deputations to the king, on the day and up to the evening on which the bastille was taken, to inform and confer with him on the state of affairs; but the ministry, who knew not so much as that it was attacked, precluded all communication, and were solacing themselves how dextrously they had succeeded; but in a few hours the accounts arrived so thick and fast that they had to start from their desks and run. some set off in one disguise, and some in another, and none in their own character. their anxiety now was to outride the news, lest they should be stopt, which, though it flew fast, flew not so fast as themselves. it is worth remarking that the national assembly neither pursued those fugitive conspirators, nor took any notice of them, nor sought to retaliate in any shape whatever. occupied with establishing a constitution founded on the rights of man and the authority of the people, the only authority on which government has a right to exist in any country, the national assembly felt none of those mean passions which mark the character of impertinent governments, founding themselves on their own authority, or on the absurdity of hereditary succession. it is the faculty of the human mind to become what it contemplates, and to act in unison with its object. the conspiracy being thus dispersed, one of the first works of the national assembly, instead of vindictive proclamations, as has been the case with other governments, was to publish a declaration of the rights of man, as the basis on which the new constitution was to be built, and which is here subjoined: declaration of the rights of man and of citizens by the national assembly of france the representatives of the people of france, formed into a national assembly, considering that ignorance, neglect, or contempt of human rights, are the sole causes of public misfortunes and corruptions of government, have resolved to set forth in a solemn declaration, these natural, imprescriptible, and inalienable rights: that this declaration being constantly present to the minds of the members of the body social, they may be forever kept attentive to their rights and their duties; that the acts of the legislative and executive powers of government, being capable of being every moment compared with the end of political institutions, may be more respected; and also, that the future claims of the citizens, being directed by simple and incontestable principles, may always tend to the maintenance of the constitution, and the general happiness. for these reasons the national assembly doth recognize and declare, in the presence of the supreme being, and with the hope of his blessing and favour, the following sacred rights of men and of citizens: one: men are born, and always continue, free and equal in respect of their rights. civil distinctions, therefore, can be founded only on public utility. two: the end of all political associations is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man; and these rights are liberty, property, security, and resistance of oppression. three: the nation is essentially the source of all sovereignty; nor can any individual, or any body of men, be entitled to any authority which is not expressly derived from it. four: political liberty consists in the power of doing whatever does not injure another. the exercise of the natural rights of every man, has no other limits than those which are necessary to secure to every other man the free exercise of the same rights; and these limits are determinable only by the law. five: the law ought to prohibit only actions hurtful to society. what is not prohibited by the law should not be hindered; nor should anyone be compelled to that which the law does not require. six: the law is an expression of the will of the community. all citizens have a right to concur, either personally or by their representatives, in its formation. it should be the same to all, whether it protects or punishes; and all being equal in its sight, are equally eligible to all honours, places, and employments, according to their different abilities, without any other distinction than that created by their virtues and talents. seven: no man should be accused, arrested, or held in confinement, except in cases determined by the law, and according to the forms which it has prescribed. all who promote, solicit, execute, or cause to be executed, arbitrary orders, ought to be punished, and every citizen called upon, or apprehended by virtue of the law, ought immediately to obey, and renders himself culpable by resistance. eight: the law ought to impose no other penalties but such as are absolutely and evidently necessary; and no one ought to be punished, but in virtue of a law promulgated before the offence, and legally applied. nine: every man being presumed innocent till he has been convicted, whenever his detention becomes indispensable, all rigour to him, more than is necessary to secure his person, ought to be provided against by the law. ten: no man ought to be molested on account of his opinions, not even on account of his religious opinions, provided his avowal of them does not disturb the public order established by the law. eleven: the unrestrained communication of thoughts and opinions being one of the most precious rights of man, every citizen may speak, write, and publish freely, provided he is responsible for the abuse of this liberty, in cases determined by the law. twelve: a public force being necessary to give security to the rights of men and of citizens, that force is instituted for the benefit of the community and not for the particular benefit of the persons to whom it is intrusted. thirteen: a common contribution being necessary for the support of the public force, and for defraying the other expenses of government, it ought to be divided equally among the members of the community, according to their abilities. fourteen: every citizen has a right, either by himself or his representative, to a free voice in determining the necessity of public contributions, the appropriation of them, and their amount, mode of assessment, and duration. fifteen: every community has a right to demand of all its agents an account of their conduct. sixteen: every community in which a separation of powers and a security of rights is not provided for, wants a constitution. seventeen: the right to property being inviolable and sacred, no one ought to be deprived of it, except in cases of evident public necessity, legally ascertained, and on condition of a previous just indemnity. observations on the declaration of rights the first three articles comprehend in general terms the whole of a declaration of rights, all the succeeding articles either originate from them or follow as elucidations. the th, th, and th define more particularly what is only generally expressed in the st, nd, and rd. the th, th, th, th, and th articles are declaratory of principles upon which laws shall be constructed, conformable to rights already declared. but it is questioned by some very good people in france, as well as in other countries, whether the th article sufficiently guarantees the right it is intended to accord with; besides which it takes off from the divine dignity of religion, and weakens its operative force upon the mind, to make it a subject of human laws. it then presents itself to man like light intercepted by a cloudy medium, in which the source of it is obscured from his sight, and he sees nothing to reverence in the dusky ray.*[ ] the remaining articles, beginning with the twelfth, are substantially contained in the principles of the preceding articles; but in the particular situation in which france then was, having to undo what was wrong, as well as to set up what was right, it was proper to be more particular than what in another condition of things would be necessary. while the declaration of rights was before the national assembly some of its members remarked that if a declaration of rights were published it should be accompanied by a declaration of duties. the observation discovered a mind that reflected, and it only erred by not reflecting far enough. a declaration of rights is, by reciprocity, a declaration of duties also. whatever is my right as a man is also the right of another; and it becomes my duty to guarantee as well as to possess. the three first articles are the base of liberty, as well individual as national; nor can any country be called free whose government does not take its beginning from the principles they contain, and continue to preserve them pure; and the whole of the declaration of rights is of more value to the world, and will do more good, than all the laws and statutes that have yet been promulgated. in the declaratory exordium which prefaces the declaration of rights we see the solemn and majestic spectacle of a nation opening its commission, under the auspices of its creator, to establish a government, a scene so new, and so transcendantly unequalled by anything in the european world, that the name of a revolution is diminutive of its character, and it rises into a regeneration of man. what are the present governments of europe but a scene of iniquity and oppression? what is that of england? do not its own inhabitants say it is a market where every man has his price, and where corruption is common traffic at the expense of a deluded people? no wonder, then, that the french revolution is traduced. had it confined itself merely to the destruction of flagrant despotism perhaps mr. burke and some others had been silent. their cry now is, "it has gone too far"--that is, it has gone too far for them. it stares corruption in the face, and the venal tribe are all alarmed. their fear discovers itself in their outrage, and they are but publishing the groans of a wounded vice. but from such opposition the french revolution, instead of suffering, receives an homage. the more it is struck the more sparks it will emit; and the fear is it will not be struck enough. it has nothing to dread from attacks; truth has given it an establishment, and time will record it with a name as lasting as his own. having now traced the progress of the french revolution through most of its principal stages, from its commencement to the taking of the bastille, and its establishment by the declaration of rights, i will close the subject with the energetic apostrophe of m. de la fayette, "may this great monument, raised to liberty, serve as a lesson to the oppressor, and an example to the oppressed!"*[ ] miscellaneous chapter to prevent interrupting the argument in the preceding part of this work, or the narrative that follows it, i reserved some observations to be thrown together in a miscellaneous chapter; by which variety might not be censured for confusion. mr. burke's book is all miscellany. his intention was to make an attack on the french revolution; but instead of proceeding with an orderly arrangement, he has stormed it with a mob of ideas tumbling over and destroying one another. but this confusion and contradiction in mr. burke's book is easily accounted for.--when a man in a wrong cause attempts to steer his course by anything else than some polar truth or principle, he is sure to be lost. it is beyond the compass of his capacity to keep all the parts of an argument together, and make them unite in one issue, by any other means than having this guide always in view. neither memory nor invention will supply the want of it. the former fails him, and the latter betrays him. notwithstanding the nonsense, for it deserves no better name, that mr. burke has asserted about hereditary rights, and hereditary succession, and that a nation has not a right to form a government of itself; it happened to fall in his way to give some account of what government is. "government," says he, "is a contrivance of human wisdom." admitting that government is a contrivance of human wisdom, it must necessarily follow, that hereditary succession, and hereditary rights (as they are called), can make no part of it, because it is impossible to make wisdom hereditary; and on the other hand, that cannot be a wise contrivance, which in its operation may commit the government of a nation to the wisdom of an idiot. the ground which mr. burke now takes is fatal to every part of his cause. the argument changes from hereditary rights to hereditary wisdom; and the question is, who is the wisest man? he must now show that every one in the line of hereditary succession was a solomon, or his title is not good to be a king. what a stroke has mr. burke now made! to use a sailor's phrase, he has swabbed the deck, and scarcely left a name legible in the list of kings; and he has mowed down and thinned the house of peers, with a scythe as formidable as death and time. but mr. burke appears to have been aware of this retort; and he has taken care to guard against it, by making government to be not only a contrivance of human wisdom, but a monopoly of wisdom. he puts the nation as fools on one side, and places his government of wisdom, all wise men of gotham, on the other side; and he then proclaims, and says that "men have a right that their wants should be provided for by this wisdom." having thus made proclamation, he next proceeds to explain to them what their wants are, and also what their rights are. in this he has succeeded dextrously, for he makes their wants to be a want of wisdom; but as this is cold comfort, he then informs them, that they have a right (not to any of the wisdom) but to be governed by it; and in order to impress them with a solemn reverence for this monopoly-government of wisdom, and of its vast capacity for all purposes, possible or impossible, right or wrong, he proceeds with astrological mysterious importance, to tell to them its powers in these words: "the rights of men in government are their advantages; and these are often in balance between differences of good; and in compromises sometimes between good and evil, and sometimes between evil and evil. political reason is a computing principle; adding--subtracting--multiplying--and dividing, morally and not metaphysically or mathematically, true moral denominations." as the wondering audience, whom mr. burke supposes himself talking to, may not understand all this learned jargon, i will undertake to be its interpreter. the meaning, then, good people, of all this, is: that government is governed by no principle whatever; that it can make evil good, or good evil, just as it pleases. in short, that government is arbitrary power. but there are some things which mr. burke has forgotten. first, he has not shown where the wisdom originally came from: and secondly, he has not shown by what authority it first began to act. in the manner he introduces the matter, it is either government stealing wisdom, or wisdom stealing government. it is without an origin, and its powers without authority. in short, it is usurpation. whether it be from a sense of shame, or from a consciousness of some radical defect in a government necessary to be kept out of sight, or from both, or from any other cause, i undertake not to determine, but so it is, that a monarchical reasoner never traces government to its source, or from its source. it is one of the shibboleths by which he may be known. a thousand years hence, those who shall live in america or france, will look back with contemplative pride on the origin of their government, and say, this was the work of our glorious ancestors! but what can a monarchical talker say? what has he to exult in? alas he has nothing. a certain something forbids him to look back to a beginning, lest some robber, or some robin hood, should rise from the long obscurity of time and say, i am the origin. hard as mr. burke laboured at the regency bill and hereditary succession two years ago, and much as he dived for precedents, he still had not boldness enough to bring up william of normandy, and say, there is the head of the list! there is the fountain of honour! the son of a prostitute, and the plunderer of the english nation. the opinions of men with respect to government are changing fast in all countries. the revolutions of america and france have thrown a beam of light over the world, which reaches into man. the enormous expense of governments has provoked people to think, by making them feel; and when once the veil begins to rend, it admits not of repair. ignorance is of a peculiar nature: once dispelled, it is impossible to re-establish it. it is not originally a thing of itself, but is only the absence of knowledge; and though man may be kept ignorant, he cannot be made ignorant. the mind, in discovering truth, acts in the same manner as it acts through the eye in discovering objects; when once any object has been seen, it is impossible to put the mind back to the same condition it was in before it saw it. those who talk of a counter-revolution in france, show how little they understand of man. there does not exist in the compass of language an arrangement of words to express so much as the means of effecting a counter-revolution. the means must be an obliteration of knowledge; and it has never yet been discovered how to make man unknow his knowledge, or unthink his thoughts. mr. burke is labouring in vain to stop the progress of knowledge; and it comes with the worse grace from him, as there is a certain transaction known in the city which renders him suspected of being a pensioner in a fictitious name. this may account for some strange doctrine he has advanced in his book, which though he points it at the revolution society, is effectually directed against the whole nation. "the king of england," says he, "holds his crown (for it does not belong to the nation, according to mr. burke) in contempt of the choice of the revolution society, who have not a single vote for a king among them either individually or collectively; and his majesty's heirs each in their time and order, will come to the crown with the same contempt of their choice, with which his majesty has succeeded to that which he now wears." as to who is king in england, or elsewhere, or whether there is any king at all, or whether the people choose a cherokee chief, or a hessian hussar for a king, it is not a matter that i trouble myself about--be that to themselves; but with respect to the doctrine, so far as it relates to the rights of men and nations, it is as abominable as anything ever uttered in the most enslaved country under heaven. whether it sounds worse to my ear, by not being accustomed to hear such despotism, than what it does to another person, i am not so well a judge of; but of its abominable principle i am at no loss to judge. it is not the revolution society that mr. burke means; it is the nation, as well in its original as in its representative character; and he has taken care to make himself understood, by saying that they have not a vote either collectively or individually. the revolution society is composed of citizens of all denominations, and of members of both the houses of parliament; and consequently, if there is not a right to a vote in any of the characters, there can be no right to any either in the nation or in its parliament. this ought to be a caution to every country how to import foreign families to be kings. it is somewhat curious to observe, that although the people of england had been in the habit of talking about kings, it is always a foreign house of kings; hating foreigners yet governed by them.--it is now the house of brunswick, one of the petty tribes of germany. it has hitherto been the practice of the english parliaments to regulate what was called the succession (taking it for granted that the nation then continued to accord to the form of annexing a monarchical branch of its government; for without this the parliament could not have had authority to have sent either to holland or to hanover, or to impose a king upon the nation against its will). and this must be the utmost limit to which parliament can go upon this case; but the right of the nation goes to the whole case, because it has the right of changing its whole form of government. the right of a parliament is only a right in trust, a right by delegation, and that but from a very small part of the nation; and one of its houses has not even this. but the right of the nation is an original right, as universal as taxation. the nation is the paymaster of everything, and everything must conform to its general will. i remember taking notice of a speech in what is called the english house of peers, by the then earl of shelburne, and i think it was at the time he was minister, which is applicable to this case. i do not directly charge my memory with every particular; but the words and the purport, as nearly as i remember, were these: "that the form of a government was a matter wholly at the will of the nation at all times, that if it chose a monarchical form, it had a right to have it so; and if it afterwards chose to be a republic, it had a right to be a republic, and to say to a king, 'we have no longer any occasion for you.'" when mr. burke says that "his majesty's heirs and successors, each in their time and order, will come to the crown with the same content of their choice with which his majesty had succeeded to that he wears," it is saying too much even to the humblest individual in the country; part of whose daily labour goes towards making up the million sterling a-year, which the country gives the person it styles a king. government with insolence is despotism; but when contempt is added it becomes worse; and to pay for contempt is the excess of slavery. this species of government comes from germany; and reminds me of what one of the brunswick soldiers told me, who was taken prisoner by, the americans in the late war: "ah!" said he, "america is a fine free country, it is worth the people's fighting for; i know the difference by knowing my own: in my country, if the prince says eat straw, we eat straw." god help that country, thought i, be it england or elsewhere, whose liberties are to be protected by german principles of government, and princes of brunswick! as mr. burke sometimes speaks of england, sometimes of france, and sometimes of the world, and of government in general, it is difficult to answer his book without apparently meeting him on the same ground. although principles of government are general subjects, it is next to impossible, in many cases, to separate them from the idea of place and circumstance, and the more so when circumstances are put for arguments, which is frequently the case with mr. burke. in the former part of his book, addressing himself to the people of france, he says: "no experience has taught us (meaning the english), that in any other course or method than that of a hereditary crown, can our liberties be regularly perpetuated and preserved sacred as our hereditary right." i ask mr. burke, who is to take them away? m. de la fayette, in speaking to france, says: "for a nation to be free, it is sufficient that she wills it." but mr. burke represents england as wanting capacity to take care of itself, and that its liberties must be taken care of by a king holding it in "contempt." if england is sunk to this, it is preparing itself to eat straw, as in hanover, or in brunswick. but besides the folly of the declaration, it happens that the facts are all against mr. burke. it was by the government being hereditary, that the liberties of the people were endangered. charles i. and james ii. are instances of this truth; yet neither of them went so far as to hold the nation in contempt. as it is sometimes of advantage to the people of one country to hear what those of other countries have to say respecting it, it is possible that the people of france may learn something from mr. burke's book, and that the people of england may also learn something from the answers it will occasion. when nations fall out about freedom, a wide field of debate is opened. the argument commences with the rights of war, without its evils, and as knowledge is the object contended for, the party that sustains the defeat obtains the prize. mr. burke talks about what he calls an hereditary crown, as if it were some production of nature; or as if, like time, it had a power to operate, not only independently, but in spite of man; or as if it were a thing or a subject universally consented to. alas! it has none of those properties, but is the reverse of them all. it is a thing in imagination, the propriety of which is more than doubted, and the legality of which in a few years will be denied. but, to arrange this matter in a clearer view than what general expression can heads under which (what is called) an hereditary crown, or more properly speaking, an hereditary succession to the government of a nation, can be considered; which are: first, the right of a particular family to establish itself. secondly, the right of a nation to establish a particular family. with respect to the first of these heads, that of a family establishing itself with hereditary powers on its own authority, and independent of the consent of a nation, all men will concur in calling it despotism; and it would be trespassing on their understanding to attempt to prove it. but the second head, that of a nation establishing a particular family with hereditary powers, does not present itself as despotism on the first reflection; but if men will permit it a second reflection to take place, and carry that reflection forward but one remove out of their own persons to that of their offspring, they will then see that hereditary succession becomes in its consequences the same despotism to others, which they reprobated for themselves. it operates to preclude the consent of the succeeding generations; and the preclusion of consent is despotism. when the person who at any time shall be in possession of a government, or those who stand in succession to him, shall say to a nation, i hold this power in "contempt" of you, it signifies not on what authority he pretends to say it. it is no relief, but an aggravation to a person in slavery, to reflect that he was sold by his parent; and as that which heightens the criminality of an act cannot be produced to prove the legality of it, hereditary succession cannot be established as a legal thing. in order to arrive at a more perfect decision on this head, it will be proper to consider the generation which undertakes to establish a family with hereditary powers, apart and separate from the generations which are to follow; and also to consider the character in which the first generation acts with respect to succeeding generations. the generation which first selects a person, and puts him at the head of its government, either with the title of king, or any other distinction, acts on its own choice, be it wise or foolish, as a free agent for itself the person so set up is not hereditary, but selected and appointed; and the generation who sets him up, does not live under a hereditary government, but under a government of its own choice and establishment. were the generation who sets him up, and the person so set up, to live for ever, it never could become hereditary succession; and of consequence hereditary succession can only follow on the death of the first parties. as, therefore, hereditary succession is out of the question with respect to the first generation, we have now to consider the character in which that generation acts with respect to the commencing generation, and to all succeeding ones. it assumes a character, to which it has neither right nor title. it changes itself from a legislator to a testator, and effects to make its will, which is to have operation after the demise of the makers, to bequeath the government; and it not only attempts to bequeath, but to establish on the succeeding generation, a new and different form of government under which itself lived. itself, as already observed, lived not under a hereditary government but under a government of its own choice and establishment; and it now attempts, by virtue of a will and testament (and which it has not authority to make), to take from the commencing generation, and all future ones, the rights and free agency by which itself acted. but, exclusive of the right which any generation has to act collectively as a testator, the objects to which it applies itself in this case, are not within the compass of any law, or of any will or testament. the rights of men in society, are neither devisable or transferable, nor annihilable, but are descendable only, and it is not in the power of any generation to intercept finally, and cut off the descent. if the present generation, or any other, are disposed to be slaves, it does not lessen the right of the succeeding generation to be free. wrongs cannot have a legal descent. when mr. burke attempts to maintain that the english nation did at the revolution of , most solemnly renounce and abdicate their rights for themselves, and for all their posterity for ever, he speaks a language that merits not reply, and which can only excite contempt for his prostitute principles, or pity for his ignorance. in whatever light hereditary succession, as growing out of the will and testament of some former generation, presents itself, it is an absurdity. a cannot make a will to take from b the property of b, and give it to c; yet this is the manner in which (what is called) hereditary succession by law operates. a certain former generation made a will, to take away the rights of the commencing generation, and all future ones, and convey those rights to a third person, who afterwards comes forward, and tells them, in mr. burke's language, that they have no rights, that their rights are already bequeathed to him and that he will govern in contempt of them. from such principles, and such ignorance, good lord deliver the world! but, after all, what is this metaphor called a crown, or rather what is monarchy? is it a thing, or is it a name, or is it a fraud? is it a "contrivance of human wisdom," or of human craft to obtain money from a nation under specious pretences? is it a thing necessary to a nation? if it is, in what does that necessity consist, what service does it perform, what is its business, and what are its merits? does the virtue consist in the metaphor, or in the man? doth the goldsmith that makes the crown, make the virtue also? doth it operate like fortunatus's wishing-cap, or harlequin's wooden sword? doth it make a man a conjurer? in fine, what is it? it appears to be something going much out of fashion, falling into ridicule, and rejected in some countries, both as unnecessary and expensive. in america it is considered as an absurdity; and in france it has so far declined, that the goodness of the man, and the respect for his personal character, are the only things that preserve the appearance of its existence. if government be what mr. burke describes it, "a contrivance of human wisdom" i might ask him, if wisdom was at such a low ebb in england, that it was become necessary to import it from holland and from hanover? but i will do the country the justice to say, that was not the case; and even if it was it mistook the cargo. the wisdom of every country, when properly exerted, is sufficient for all its purposes; and there could exist no more real occasion in england to have sent for a dutch stadtholder, or a german elector, than there was in america to have done a similar thing. if a country does not understand its own affairs, how is a foreigner to understand them, who knows neither its laws, its manners, nor its language? if there existed a man so transcendently wise above all others, that his wisdom was necessary to instruct a nation, some reason might be offered for monarchy; but when we cast our eyes about a country, and observe how every part understands its own affairs; and when we look around the world, and see that of all men in it, the race of kings are the most insignificant in capacity, our reason cannot fail to ask us--what are those men kept for? if there is anything in monarchy which we people of america do not understand, i wish mr. burke would be so kind as to inform us. i see in america, a government extending over a country ten times as large as england, and conducted with regularity, for a fortieth part of the expense which government costs in england. if i ask a man in america if he wants a king, he retorts, and asks me if i take him for an idiot? how is it that this difference happens? are we more or less wise than others? i see in america the generality of people living in a style of plenty unknown in monarchical countries; and i see that the principle of its government, which is that of the equal rights of man, is making a rapid progress in the world. if monarchy is a useless thing, why is it kept up anywhere? and if a necessary thing, how can it be dispensed with? that civil government is necessary, all civilized nations will agree; but civil government is republican government. all that part of the government of england which begins with the office of constable, and proceeds through the department of magistrate, quarter-sessions, and general assize, including trial by jury, is republican government. nothing of monarchy appears in any part of it, except in the name which william the conqueror imposed upon the english, that of obliging them to call him "their sovereign lord the king." it is easy to conceive that a band of interested men, such as placemen, pensioners, lords of the bed-chamber, lords of the kitchen, lords of the necessary-house, and the lord knows what besides, can find as many reasons for monarchy as their salaries, paid at the expense of the country, amount to; but if i ask the farmer, the manufacturer, the merchant, the tradesman, and down through all the occupations of life to the common labourer, what service monarchy is to him? he can give me no answer. if i ask him what monarchy is, he believes it is something like a sinecure. notwithstanding the taxes of england amount to almost seventeen millions a year, said to be for the expenses of government, it is still evident that the sense of the nation is left to govern itself, and does govern itself, by magistrates and juries, almost at its own charge, on republican principles, exclusive of the expense of taxes. the salaries of the judges are almost the only charge that is paid out of the revenue. considering that all the internal government is executed by the people, the taxes of england ought to be the lightest of any nation in europe; instead of which, they are the contrary. as this cannot be accounted for on the score of civil government, the subject necessarily extends itself to the monarchical part. when the people of england sent for george the first (and it would puzzle a wiser man than mr. burke to discover for what he could be wanted, or what service he could render), they ought at least to have conditioned for the abandonment of hanover. besides the endless german intrigues that must follow from a german elector being king of england, there is a natural impossibility of uniting in the same person the principles of freedom and the principles of despotism, or as it is usually called in england arbitrary power. a german elector is in his electorate a despot; how then could it be expected that he should be attached to principles of liberty in one country, while his interest in another was to be supported by despotism? the union cannot exist; and it might easily have been foreseen that german electors would make german kings, or in mr. burke's words, would assume government with "contempt." the english have been in the habit of considering a king of england only in the character in which he appears to them; whereas the same person, while the connection lasts, has a home-seat in another country, the interest of which is different to their own, and the principles of the governments in opposition to each other. to such a person england will appear as a town-residence, and the electorate as the estate. the english may wish, as i believe they do, success to the principles of liberty in france, or in germany; but a german elector trembles for the fate of despotism in his electorate; and the duchy of mecklenburgh, where the present queen's family governs, is under the same wretched state of arbitrary power, and the people in slavish vassalage. there never was a time when it became the english to watch continental intrigues more circumspectly than at the present moment, and to distinguish the politics of the electorate from the politics of the nation. the revolution of france has entirely changed the ground with respect to england and france, as nations; but the german despots, with prussia at their head, are combining against liberty; and the fondness of mr. pitt for office, and the interest which all his family connections have obtained, do not give sufficient security against this intrigue. as everything which passes in the world becomes matter for history, i will now quit this subject, and take a concise review of the state of parties and politics in england, as mr. burke has done in france. whether the present reign commenced with contempt, i leave to mr. burke: certain, however, it is, that it had strongly that appearance. the animosity of the english nation, it is very well remembered, ran high; and, had the true principles of liberty been as well understood then as they now promise to be, it is probable the nation would not have patiently submitted to so much. george the first and second were sensible of a rival in the remains of the stuarts; and as they could not but consider themselves as standing on their good behaviour, they had prudence to keep their german principles of government to themselves; but as the stuart family wore away, the prudence became less necessary. the contest between rights, and what were called prerogatives, continued to heat the nation till some time after the conclusion of the american war, when all at once it fell a calm--execration exchanged itself for applause, and court popularity sprung up like a mushroom in a night. to account for this sudden transition, it is proper to observe that there are two distinct species of popularity; the one excited by merit, and the other by resentment. as the nation had formed itself into two parties, and each was extolling the merits of its parliamentary champions for and against prerogative, nothing could operate to give a more general shock than an immediate coalition of the champions themselves. the partisans of each being thus suddenly left in the lurch, and mutually heated with disgust at the measure, felt no other relief than uniting in a common execration against both. a higher stimulus or resentment being thus excited than what the contest on prerogatives occasioned, the nation quitted all former objects of rights and wrongs, and sought only that of gratification. the indignation at the coalition so effectually superseded the indignation against the court as to extinguish it; and without any change of principles on the part of the court, the same people who had reprobated its despotism united with it to revenge themselves on the coalition parliament. the case was not, which they liked best, but which they hated most; and the least hated passed for love. the dissolution of the coalition parliament, as it afforded the means of gratifying the resentment of the nation, could not fail to be popular; and from hence arose the popularity of the court. transitions of this kind exhibit a nation under the government of temper, instead of a fixed and steady principle; and having once committed itself, however rashly, it feels itself urged along to justify by continuance its first proceeding. measures which at other times it would censure it now approves, and acts persuasion upon itself to suffocate its judgment. on the return of a new parliament, the new minister, mr. pitt, found himself in a secure majority; and the nation gave him credit, not out of regard to himself, but because it had resolved to do it out of resentment to another. he introduced himself to public notice by a proposed reform of parliament, which in its operation would have amounted to a public justification of corruption. the nation was to be at the expense of buying up the rotten boroughs, whereas it ought to punish the persons who deal in the traffic. passing over the two bubbles of the dutch business and the million a-year to sink the national debt, the matter which most presents itself, is the affair of the regency. never, in the course of my observation, was delusion more successfully acted, nor a nation more completely deceived. but, to make this appear, it will be necessary to go over the circumstances. mr. fox had stated in the house of commons, that the prince of wales, as heir in succession, had a right in himself to assume the government. this was opposed by mr. pitt; and, so far as the opposition was confined to the doctrine, it was just. but the principles which mr. pitt maintained on the contrary side were as bad, or worse in their extent, than those of mr. fox; because they went to establish an aristocracy over the nation, and over the small representation it has in the house of commons. whether the english form of government be good or bad, is not in this case the question; but, taking it as it stands, without regard to its merits or demerits, mr. pitt was farther from the point than mr. fox. it is supposed to consist of three parts:--while therefore the nation is disposed to continue this form, the parts have a national standing, independent of each other, and are not the creatures of each other. had mr. fox passed through parliament, and said that the person alluded to claimed on the ground of the nation, mr. pitt must then have contended what he called the right of the parliament against the right of the nation. by the appearance which the contest made, mr. fox took the hereditary ground, and mr. pitt the parliamentary ground; but the fact is, they both took hereditary ground, and mr. pitt took the worst of the two. what is called the parliament is made up of two houses, one of which is more hereditary, and more beyond the control of the nation than what the crown (as it is called) is supposed to be. it is an hereditary aristocracy, assuming and asserting indefeasible, irrevocable rights and authority, wholly independent of the nation. where, then, was the merited popularity of exalting this hereditary power over another hereditary power less independent of the nation than what itself assumed to be, and of absorbing the rights of the nation into a house over which it has neither election nor control? the general impulse of the nation was right; but it acted without reflection. it approved the opposition made to the right set up by mr. fox, without perceiving that mr. pitt was supporting another indefeasible right more remote from the nation, in opposition to it. with respect to the house of commons, it is elected but by a small part of the nation; but were the election as universal as taxation, which it ought to be, it would still be only the organ of the nation, and cannot possess inherent rights.--when the national assembly of france resolves a matter, the resolve is made in right of the nation; but mr. pitt, on all national questions, so far as they refer to the house of commons, absorbs the rights of the nation into the organ, and makes the organ into a nation, and the nation itself into a cypher. in a few words, the question on the regency was a question of a million a-year, which is appropriated to the executive department: and mr. pitt could not possess himself of any management of this sum, without setting up the supremacy of parliament; and when this was accomplished, it was indifferent who should be regent, as he must be regent at his own cost. among the curiosities which this contentious debate afforded, was that of making the great seal into a king, the affixing of which to an act was to be royal authority. if, therefore, royal authority is a great seal, it consequently is in itself nothing; and a good constitution would be of infinitely more value to the nation than what the three nominal powers, as they now stand, are worth. the continual use of the word constitution in the english parliament shows there is none; and that the whole is merely a form of government without a constitution, and constituting itself with what powers it pleases. if there were a constitution, it certainly could be referred to; and the debate on any constitutional point would terminate by producing the constitution. one member says this is constitution, and another says that is constitution--to-day it is one thing; and to-morrow something else--while the maintaining of the debate proves there is none. constitution is now the cant word of parliament, tuning itself to the ear of the nation. formerly it was the universal supremacy of parliament--the omnipotence of parliament: but since the progress of liberty in france, those phrases have a despotic harshness in their note; and the english parliament have catched the fashion from the national assembly, but without the substance, of speaking of constitution. as the present generation of the people in england did not make the government, they are not accountable for any of its defects; but, that sooner or later, it must come into their hands to undergo a constitutional reformation, is as certain as that the same thing has happened in france. if france, with a revenue of nearly twenty-four millions sterling, with an extent of rich and fertile country above four times larger than england, with a population of twenty-four millions of inhabitants to support taxation, with upwards of ninety millions sterling of gold and silver circulating in the nation, and with a debt less than the present debt of england--still found it necessary, from whatever cause, to come to a settlement of its affairs, it solves the problem of funding for both countries. it is out of the question to say how long what is called the english constitution has lasted, and to argue from thence how long it is to last; the question is, how long can the funding system last? it is a thing but of modern invention, and has not yet continued beyond the life of a man; yet in that short space it has so far accumulated, that, together with the current expenses, it requires an amount of taxes at least equal to the whole landed rental of the nation in acres to defray the annual expenditure. that a government could not have always gone on by the same system which has been followed for the last seventy years, must be evident to every man; and for the same reason it cannot always go on. the funding system is not money; neither is it, properly speaking, credit. it, in effect, creates upon paper the sum which it appears to borrow, and lays on a tax to keep the imaginary capital alive by the payment of interest and sends the annuity to market, to be sold for paper already in circulation. if any credit is given, it is to the disposition of the people to pay the tax, and not to the government, which lays it on. when this disposition expires, what is supposed to be the credit of government expires with it. the instance of france under the former government shows that it is impossible to compel the payment of taxes by force, when a whole nation is determined to take its stand upon that ground. mr. burke, in his review of the finances of france, states the quantity of gold and silver in france, at about eighty-eight millions sterling. in doing this, he has, i presume, divided by the difference of exchange, instead of the standard of twenty-four livres to a pound sterling; for m. neckar's statement, from which mr. burke's is taken, is two thousand two hundred millions of livres, which is upwards of ninety-one millions and a half sterling. m. neckar in france, and mr. george chalmers at the office of trade and plantation in england, of which lord hawkesbury is president, published nearly about the same time ( ) an account of the quantity of money in each nation, from the returns of the mint of each nation. mr. chalmers, from the returns of the english mint at the tower of london, states the quantity of money in england, including scotland and ireland, to be twenty millions sterling.*[ ] m. neckar*[ ] says that the amount of money in france, recoined from the old coin which was called in, was two thousand five hundred millions of livres (upwards of one hundred and four millions sterling); and, after deducting for waste, and what may be in the west indies and other possible circumstances, states the circulation quantity at home to be ninety-one millions and a half sterling; but, taking it as mr. burke has put it, it is sixty-eight millions more than the national quantity in england. that the quantity of money in france cannot be under this sum, may at once be seen from the state of the french revenue, without referring to the records of the french mint for proofs. the revenue of france, prior to the revolution, was nearly twenty-four millions sterling; and as paper had then no existence in france the whole revenue was collected upon gold and silver; and it would have been impossible to have collected such a quantity of revenue upon a less national quantity than m. neckar has stated. before the establishment of paper in england, the revenue was about a fourth part of the national amount of gold and silver, as may be known by referring to the revenue prior to king william, and the quantity of money stated to be in the nation at that time, which was nearly as much as it is now. it can be of no real service to a nation, to impose upon itself, or to permit itself to be imposed upon; but the prejudices of some, and the imposition of others, have always represented france as a nation possessing but little money--whereas the quantity is not only more than four times what the quantity is in england, but is considerably greater on a proportion of numbers. to account for this deficiency on the part of england, some reference should be had to the english system of funding. it operates to multiply paper, and to substitute it in the room of money, in various shapes; and the more paper is multiplied, the more opportunities are offered to export the specie; and it admits of a possibility (by extending it to small notes) of increasing paper till there is no money left. i know this is not a pleasant subject to english readers; but the matters i am going to mention, are so important in themselves, as to require the attention of men interested in money transactions of a public nature. there is a circumstance stated by m. neckar, in his treatise on the administration of the finances, which has never been attended to in england, but which forms the only basis whereon to estimate the quantity of money (gold and silver) which ought to be in every nation in europe, to preserve a relative proportion with other nations. lisbon and cadiz are the two ports into which (money) gold and silver from south america are imported, and which afterwards divide and spread themselves over europe by means of commerce, and increase the quantity of money in all parts of europe. if, therefore, the amount of the annual importation into europe can be known, and the relative proportion of the foreign commerce of the several nations by which it can be distributed can be ascertained, they give a rule sufficiently true, to ascertain the quantity of money which ought to be found in any nation, at any given time. m. neckar shows from the registers of lisbon and cadiz, that the importation of gold and silver into europe, is five millions sterling annually. he has not taken it on a single year, but on an average of fifteen succeeding years, from to , both inclusive; in which time, the amount was one thousand eight hundred million livres, which is seventy-five millions sterling.*[ ] from the commencement of the hanover succession in to the time mr. chalmers published, is seventy-two years; and the quantity imported into europe, in that time, would be three hundred and sixty millions sterling. if the foreign commerce of great britain be stated at a sixth part of what the whole foreign commerce of europe amounts to (which is probably an inferior estimation to what the gentlemen at the exchange would allow) the proportion which britain should draw by commerce of this sum, to keep herself on a proportion with the rest of europe, would be also a sixth part which is sixty millions sterling; and if the same allowance for waste and accident be made for england which m. neckar makes for france, the quantity remaining after these deductions would be fifty-two millions; and this sum ought to have been in the nation (at the time mr. chalmers published), in addition to the sum which was in the nation at the commencement of the hanover succession, and to have made in the whole at least sixty-six millions sterling; instead of which there were but twenty millions, which is forty-six millions below its proportionate quantity. as the quantity of gold and silver imported into lisbon and cadiz is more exactly ascertained than that of any commodity imported into england, and as the quantity of money coined at the tower of london is still more positively known, the leading facts do not admit of controversy. either, therefore, the commerce of england is unproductive of profit, or the gold and silver which it brings in leak continually away by unseen means at the average rate of about three-quarters of a million a year, which, in the course of seventy-two years, accounts for the deficiency; and its absence is supplied by paper.*[ ] the revolution of france is attended with many novel circumstances, not only in the political sphere, but in the circle of money transactions. among others, it shows that a government may be in a state of insolvency and a nation rich. so far as the fact is confined to the late government of france, it was insolvent; because the nation would no longer support its extravagance, and therefore it could no longer support itself--but with respect to the nation all the means existed. a government may be said to be insolvent every time it applies to the nation to discharge its arrears. the insolvency of the late government of france and the present of england differed in no other respect than as the dispositions of the people differ. the people of france refused their aid to the old government; and the people of england submit to taxation without inquiry. what is called the crown in england has been insolvent several times; the last of which, publicly known, was in may, , when it applied to the nation to discharge upwards of l , private debts, which otherwise it could not pay. it was the error of mr. pitt, mr. burke, and all those who were unacquainted with the affairs of france to confound the french nation with the french government. the french nation, in effect, endeavoured to render the late government insolvent for the purpose of taking government into its own hands: and it reserved its means for the support of the new government. in a country of such vast extent and population as france the natural means cannot be wanting, and the political means appear the instant the nation is disposed to permit them. when mr. burke, in a speech last winter in the british parliament, "cast his eyes over the map of europe, and saw a chasm that once was france," he talked like a dreamer of dreams. the same natural france existed as before, and all the natural means existed with it. the only chasm was that the extinction of despotism had left, and which was to be filled up with the constitution more formidable in resources than the power which had expired. although the french nation rendered the late government insolvent, it did not permit the insolvency to act towards the creditors; and the creditors, considering the nation as the real pay-master, and the government only as the agent, rested themselves on the nation, in preference to the government. this appears greatly to disturb mr. burke, as the precedent is fatal to the policy by which governments have supposed themselves secure. they have contracted debts, with a view of attaching what is called the monied interest of a nation to their support; but the example in france shows that the permanent security of the creditor is in the nation, and not in the government; and that in all possible revolutions that may happen in governments, the means are always with the nation, and the nation always in existence. mr. burke argues that the creditors ought to have abided the fate of the government which they trusted; but the national assembly considered them as the creditors of the nation, and not of the government--of the master, and not of the steward. notwithstanding the late government could not discharge the current expenses, the present government has paid off a great part of the capital. this has been accomplished by two means; the one by lessening the expenses of government, and the other by the sale of the monastic and ecclesiastical landed estates. the devotees and penitent debauchees, extortioners and misers of former days, to ensure themselves a better world than that they were about to leave, had bequeathed immense property in trust to the priesthood for pious uses; and the priesthood kept it for themselves. the national assembly has ordered it to be sold for the good of the whole nation, and the priesthood to be decently provided for. in consequence of the revolution, the annual interest of the debt of france will be reduced at least six millions sterling, by paying off upwards of one hundred millions of the capital; which, with lessening the former expenses of government at least three millions, will place france in a situation worthy the imitation of europe. upon a whole review of the subject, how vast is the contrast! while mr. burke has been talking of a general bankruptcy in france, the national assembly has been paying off the capital of its debt; and while taxes have increased near a million a year in england, they have lowered several millions a year in france. not a word has either mr. burke or mr. pitt said about the french affairs, or the state of the french finances, in the present session of parliament. the subject begins to be too well understood, and imposition serves no longer. there is a general enigma running through the whole of mr. burke's book. he writes in a rage against the national assembly; but what is he enraged about? if his assertions were as true as they are groundless, and that france by her revolution, had annihilated her power, and become what he calls a chasm, it might excite the grief of a frenchman (considering himself as a national man), and provoke his rage against the national assembly; but why should it excite the rage of mr. burke? alas! it is not the nation of france that mr. burke means, but the court; and every court in europe, dreading the same fate, is in mourning. he writes neither in the character of a frenchman nor an englishman, but in the fawning character of that creature known in all countries, and a friend to none--a courtier. whether it be the court of versailles, or the court of st. james, or carlton-house, or the court in expectation, signifies not; for the caterpillar principle of all courts and courtiers are alike. they form a common policy throughout europe, detached and separate from the interest of nations: and while they appear to quarrel, they agree to plunder. nothing can be more terrible to a court or courtier than the revolution of france. that which is a blessing to nations is bitterness to them: and as their existence depends on the duplicity of a country, they tremble at the approach of principles, and dread the precedent that threatens their overthrow. conclusion reason and ignorance, the opposites of each other, influence the great bulk of mankind. if either of these can be rendered sufficiently extensive in a country, the machinery of government goes easily on. reason obeys itself; and ignorance submits to whatever is dictated to it. the two modes of the government which prevail in the world, are: first, government by election and representation. secondly, government by hereditary succession. the former is generally known by the name of republic; the latter by that of monarchy and aristocracy. those two distinct and opposite forms erect themselves on the two distinct and opposite bases of reason and ignorance.--as the exercise of government requires talents and abilities, and as talents and abilities cannot have hereditary descent, it is evident that hereditary succession requires a belief from man to which his reason cannot subscribe, and which can only be established upon his ignorance; and the more ignorant any country is, the better it is fitted for this species of government. on the contrary, government, in a well-constituted republic, requires no belief from man beyond what his reason can give. he sees the rationale of the whole system, its origin and its operation; and as it is best supported when best understood, the human faculties act with boldness, and acquire, under this form of government, a gigantic manliness. as, therefore, each of those forms acts on a different base, the one moving freely by the aid of reason, the other by ignorance; we have next to consider, what it is that gives motion to that species of government which is called mixed government, or, as it is sometimes ludicrously styled, a government of this, that and t' other. the moving power in this species of government is, of necessity, corruption. however imperfect election and representation may be in mixed governments, they still give exercise to a greater portion of reason than is convenient to the hereditary part; and therefore it becomes necessary to buy the reason up. a mixed government is an imperfect everything, cementing and soldering the discordant parts together by corruption, to act as a whole. mr. burke appears highly disgusted that france, since she had resolved on a revolution, did not adopt what he calls "a british constitution"; and the regretful manner in which he expresses himself on this occasion implies a suspicion that the british constitution needed something to keep its defects in countenance. in mixed governments there is no responsibility: the parts cover each other till responsibility is lost; and the corruption which moves the machine, contrives at the same time its own escape. when it is laid down as a maxim, that a king can do no wrong, it places him in a state of similar security with that of idiots and persons insane, and responsibility is out of the question with respect to himself. it then descends upon the minister, who shelters himself under a majority in parliament, which, by places, pensions, and corruption, he can always command; and that majority justifies itself by the same authority with which it protects the minister. in this rotatory motion, responsibility is thrown off from the parts, and from the whole. when there is a part in a government which can do no wrong, it implies that it does nothing; and is only the machine of another power, by whose advice and direction it acts. what is supposed to be the king in the mixed governments, is the cabinet; and as the cabinet is always a part of the parliament, and the members justifying in one character what they advise and act in another, a mixed government becomes a continual enigma; entailing upon a country by the quantity of corruption necessary to solder the parts, the expense of supporting all the forms of government at once, and finally resolving itself into a government by committee; in which the advisers, the actors, the approvers, the justifiers, the persons responsible, and the persons not responsible, are the same persons. by this pantomimical contrivance, and change of scene and character, the parts help each other out in matters which neither of them singly would assume to act. when money is to be obtained, the mass of variety apparently dissolves, and a profusion of parliamentary praises passes between the parts. each admires with astonishment, the wisdom, the liberality, the disinterestedness of the other: and all of them breathe a pitying sigh at the burthens of the nation. but in a well-constituted republic, nothing of this soldering, praising, and pitying, can take place; the representation being equal throughout the country, and complete in itself, however it may be arranged into legislative and executive, they have all one and the same natural source. the parts are not foreigners to each other, like democracy, aristocracy, and monarchy. as there are no discordant distinctions, there is nothing to corrupt by compromise, nor confound by contrivance. public measures appeal of themselves to the understanding of the nation, and, resting on their own merits, disown any flattering applications to vanity. the continual whine of lamenting the burden of taxes, however successfully it may be practised in mixed governments, is inconsistent with the sense and spirit of a republic. if taxes are necessary, they are of course advantageous; but if they require an apology, the apology itself implies an impeachment. why, then, is man thus imposed upon, or why does he impose upon himself? when men are spoken of as kings and subjects, or when government is mentioned under the distinct and combined heads of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, what is it that reasoning man is to understand by the terms? if there really existed in the world two or more distinct and separate elements of human power, we should then see the several origins to which those terms would descriptively apply; but as there is but one species of man, there can be but one element of human power; and that element is man himself. monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, are but creatures of imagination; and a thousand such may be contrived as well as three. from the revolutions of america and france, and the symptoms that have appeared in other countries, it is evident that the opinion of the world is changing with respect to systems of government, and that revolutions are not within the compass of political calculations. the progress of time and circumstances, which men assign to the accomplishment of great changes, is too mechanical to measure the force of the mind, and the rapidity of reflection, by which revolutions are generated: all the old governments have received a shock from those that already appear, and which were once more improbable, and are a greater subject of wonder, than a general revolution in europe would be now. when we survey the wretched condition of man, under the monarchical and hereditary systems of government, dragged from his home by one power, or driven by another, and impoverished by taxes more than by enemies, it becomes evident that those systems are bad, and that a general revolution in the principle and construction of governments is necessary. what is government more than the management of the affairs of a nation? it is not, and from its nature cannot be, the property of any particular man or family, but of the whole community, at whose expense it is supported; and though by force and contrivance it has been usurped into an inheritance, the usurpation cannot alter the right of things. sovereignty, as a matter of right, appertains to the nation only, and not to any individual; and a nation has at all times an inherent indefeasible right to abolish any form of government it finds inconvenient, and to establish such as accords with its interest, disposition and happiness. the romantic and barbarous distinction of men into kings and subjects, though it may suit the condition of courtiers, cannot that of citizens; and is exploded by the principle upon which governments are now founded. every citizen is a member of the sovereignty, and, as such, can acknowledge no personal subjection; and his obedience can be only to the laws. when men think of what government is, they must necessarily suppose it to possess a knowledge of all the objects and matters upon which its authority is to be exercised. in this view of government, the republican system, as established by america and france, operates to embrace the whole of a nation; and the knowledge necessary to the interest of all the parts, is to be found in the center, which the parts by representation form: but the old governments are on a construction that excludes knowledge as well as happiness; government by monks, who knew nothing of the world beyond the walls of a convent, is as consistent as government by kings. what were formerly called revolutions, were little more than a change of persons, or an alteration of local circumstances. they rose and fell like things of course, and had nothing in their existence or their fate that could influence beyond the spot that produced them. but what we now see in the world, from the revolutions of america and france, are a renovation of the natural order of things, a system of principles as universal as truth and the existence of man, and combining moral with political happiness and national prosperity. "i. men are born, and always continue, free and equal in respect of their rights. civil distinctions, therefore, can be founded only on public utility. "ii. the end of all political associations is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man; and these rights are liberty, property, security, and resistance of oppression. "iii. the nation is essentially the source of all sovereignty; nor can any individual, or any body of men, be entitled to any authority which is not expressly derived from it." in these principles, there is nothing to throw a nation into confusion by inflaming ambition. they are calculated to call forth wisdom and abilities, and to exercise them for the public good, and not for the emolument or aggrandisement of particular descriptions of men or families. monarchical sovereignty, the enemy of mankind, and the source of misery, is abolished; and the sovereignty itself is restored to its natural and original place, the nation. were this the case throughout europe, the cause of wars would be taken away. it is attributed to henry the fourth of france, a man of enlarged and benevolent heart, that he proposed, about the year , a plan for abolishing war in europe. the plan consisted in constituting an european congress, or as the french authors style it, a pacific republic; by appointing delegates from the several nations who were to act as a court of arbitration in any disputes that might arise between nation and nation. had such a plan been adopted at the time it was proposed, the taxes of england and france, as two of the parties, would have been at least ten millions sterling annually to each nation less than they were at the commencement of the french revolution. to conceive a cause why such a plan has not been adopted (and that instead of a congress for the purpose of preventing war, it has been called only to terminate a war, after a fruitless expense of several years) it will be necessary to consider the interest of governments as a distinct interest to that of nations. whatever is the cause of taxes to a nation, becomes also the means of revenue to government. every war terminates with an addition of taxes, and consequently with an addition of revenue; and in any event of war, in the manner they are now commenced and concluded, the power and interest of governments are increased. war, therefore, from its productiveness, as it easily furnishes the pretence of necessity for taxes and appointments to places and offices, becomes a principal part of the system of old governments; and to establish any mode to abolish war, however advantageous it might be to nations, would be to take from such government the most lucrative of its branches. the frivolous matters upon which war is made, show the disposition and avidity of governments to uphold the system of war, and betray the motives upon which they act. why are not republics plunged into war, but because the nature of their government does not admit of an interest distinct from that of the nation? even holland, though an ill-constructed republic, and with a commerce extending over the world, existed nearly a century without war: and the instant the form of government was changed in france, the republican principles of peace and domestic prosperity and economy arose with the new government; and the same consequences would follow the cause in other nations. as war is the system of government on the old construction, the animosity which nations reciprocally entertain, is nothing more than what the policy of their governments excites to keep up the spirit of the system. each government accuses the other of perfidy, intrigue, and ambition, as a means of heating the imagination of their respective nations, and incensing them to hostilities. man is not the enemy of man, but through the medium of a false system of government. instead, therefore, of exclaiming against the ambition of kings, the exclamation should be directed against the principle of such governments; and instead of seeking to reform the individual, the wisdom of a nation should apply itself to reform the system. whether the forms and maxims of governments which are still in practice, were adapted to the condition of the world at the period they were established, is not in this case the question. the older they are, the less correspondence can they have with the present state of things. time, and change of circumstances and opinions, have the same progressive effect in rendering modes of government obsolete as they have upon customs and manners.--agriculture, commerce, manufactures, and the tranquil arts, by which the prosperity of nations is best promoted, require a different system of government, and a different species of knowledge to direct its operations, than what might have been required in the former condition of the world. as it is not difficult to perceive, from the enlightened state of mankind, that hereditary governments are verging to their decline, and that revolutions on the broad basis of national sovereignty and government by representation, are making their way in europe, it would be an act of wisdom to anticipate their approach, and produce revolutions by reason and accommodation, rather than commit them to the issue of convulsions. from what we now see, nothing of reform in the political world ought to be held improbable. it is an age of revolutions, in which everything may be looked for. the intrigue of courts, by which the system of war is kept up, may provoke a confederation of nations to abolish it: and an european congress to patronise the progress of free government, and promote the civilisation of nations with each other, is an event nearer in probability, than once were the revolutions and alliance of france and america. end of part i. rights of man. part second, combining principle and practice. by thomas paine. french translator's preface. ( ) the work of which we offer a translation to the public has created the greatest sensation in england. paine, that man of freedom, who seems born to preach "common sense" to the whole world with the same success as in america, explains in it to the people of england the theory of the practice of the rights of man. owing to the prejudices that still govern that nation, the author has been obliged to condescend to answer mr. burke. he has done so more especially in an extended preface which is nothing but a piece of very tedious controversy, in which he shows himself very sensitive to criticisms that do not really affect him. to translate it seemed an insult to the free french people, and similar reasons have led the editors to suppress also a dedicatory epistle addressed by paine to lafayette. the french can no longer endure dedicatory epistles. a man should write privately to those he esteems: when he publishes a book his thoughts should be offered to the public alone. paine, that uncorrupted friend of freedom, believed too in the sincerity of lafayette. so easy is it to deceive men of single-minded purpose! bred at a distance from courts, that austere american does not seem any more on his guard against the artful ways and speech of courtiers than some frenchmen who resemble him. to m. de la fayette after an acquaintance of nearly fifteen years in difficult situations in america, and various consultations in europe, i feel a pleasure in presenting to you this small treatise, in gratitude for your services to my beloved america, and as a testimony of my esteem for the virtues, public and private, which i know you to possess. the only point upon which i could ever discover that we differed was not as to principles of government, but as to time. for my own part i think it equally as injurious to good principles to permit them to linger, as to push them on too fast. that which you suppose accomplishable in fourteen or fifteen years, i may believe practicable in a much shorter period. mankind, as it appears to me, are always ripe enough to understand their true interest, provided it be presented clearly to their understanding, and that in a manner not to create suspicion by anything like self-design, nor offend by assuming too much. where we would wish to reform we must not reproach. when the american revolution was established i felt a disposition to sit serenely down and enjoy the calm. it did not appear to me that any object could afterwards arise great enough to make me quit tranquility and feel as i had felt before. but when principle, and not place, is the energetic cause of action, a man, i find, is everywhere the same. i am now once more in the public world; and as i have not a right to contemplate on so many years of remaining life as you have, i have resolved to labour as fast as i can; and as i am anxious for your aid and your company, i wish you to hasten your principles and overtake me. if you make a campaign the ensuing spring, which it is most probable there will be no occasion for, i will come and join you. should the campaign commence, i hope it will terminate in the extinction of german despotism, and in establishing the freedom of all germany. when france shall be surrounded with revolutions she will be in peace and safety, and her taxes, as well as those of germany, will consequently become less. your sincere, affectionate friend, thomas paine london, feb. , preface when i began the chapter entitled the "conclusion" in the former part of the rights of man, published last year, it was my intention to have extended it to a greater length; but in casting the whole matter in my mind, which i wish to add, i found that it must either make the work too bulky, or contract my plan too much. i therefore brought it to a close as soon as the subject would admit, and reserved what i had further to say to another opportunity. several other reasons contributed to produce this determination. i wished to know the manner in which a work, written in a style of thinking and expression different to what had been customary in england, would be received before i proceeded farther. a great field was opening to the view of mankind by means of the french revolution. mr. burke's outrageous opposition thereto brought the controversy into england. he attacked principles which he knew (from information) i would contest with him, because they are principles i believe to be good, and which i have contributed to establish, and conceive myself bound to defend. had he not urged the controversy, i had most probably been a silent man. another reason for deferring the remainder of the work was, that mr. burke promised in his first publication to renew the subject at another opportunity, and to make a comparison of what he called the english and french constitutions. i therefore held myself in reserve for him. he has published two works since, without doing this: which he certainly would not have omitted, had the comparison been in his favour. in his last work, his "appeal from the new to the old whigs," he has quoted about ten pages from the rights of man, and having given himself the trouble of doing this, says he "shall not attempt in the smallest degree to refute them," meaning the principles therein contained. i am enough acquainted with mr. burke to know that he would if he could. but instead of contesting them, he immediately after consoles himself with saying that "he has done his part."--he has not done his part. he has not performed his promise of a comparison of constitutions. he started the controversy, he gave the challenge, and has fled from it; and he is now a case in point with his own opinion that "the age of chivalry is gone!" the title, as well as the substance of his last work, his "appeal," is his condemnation. principles must stand on their own merits, and if they are good they certainly will. to put them under the shelter of other men's authority, as mr. burke has done, serves to bring them into suspicion. mr. burke is not very fond of dividing his honours, but in this case he is artfully dividing the disgrace. but who are those to whom mr. burke has made his appeal? a set of childish thinkers, and half-way politicians born in the last century, men who went no farther with any principle than as it suited their purposes as a party; the nation was always left out of the question; and this has been the character of every party from that day to this. the nation sees nothing of such works, or such politics, worthy its attention. a little matter will move a party, but it must be something great that moves a nation. though i see nothing in mr. burke's "appeal" worth taking much notice of, there is, however, one expression upon which i shall offer a few remarks. after quoting largely from the rights of man, and declining to contest the principles contained in that work, he says: "this will most probably be done (if such writings shall be thought to deserve any other refutation than that of criminal justice) by others, who may think with mr. burke and with the same zeal." in the first place, it has not yet been done by anybody. not less, i believe, than eight or ten pamphlets intended as answers to the former part of the rights of man have been published by different persons, and not one of them to my knowledge, has extended to a second edition, nor are even the titles of them so much as generally remembered. as i am averse to unnecessary multiplying publications, i have answered none of them. and as i believe that a man may write himself out of reputation when nobody else can do it, i am careful to avoid that rock. but as i would decline unnecessary publications on the one hand, so would i avoid everything that might appear like sullen pride on the other. if mr. burke, or any person on his side the question, will produce an answer to the rights of man that shall extend to a half, or even to a fourth part of the number of copies to which the rights of man extended, i will reply to his work. but until this be done, i shall so far take the sense of the public for my guide (and the world knows i am not a flatterer) that what they do not think worth while to read, is not worth mine to answer. i suppose the number of copies to which the first part of the rights of man extended, taking england, scotland, and ireland, is not less than between forty and fifty thousand. i now come to remark on the remaining part of the quotation i have made from mr. burke. "if," says he, "such writings shall be thought to deserve any other refutation than that of criminal justice." pardoning the pun, it must be criminal justice indeed that should condemn a work as a substitute for not being able to refute it. the greatest condemnation that could be passed upon it would be a refutation. but in proceeding by the method mr. burke alludes to, the condemnation would, in the final event, pass upon the criminality of the process and not upon the work, and in this case, i had rather be the author, than be either the judge or the jury that should condemn it. but to come at once to the point. i have differed from some professional gentlemen on the subject of prosecutions, and i since find they are falling into my opinion, which i will here state as fully, but as concisely as i can. i will first put a case with respect to any law, and then compare it with a government, or with what in england is, or has been, called a constitution. it would be an act of despotism, or what in england is called arbitrary power, to make a law to prohibit investigating the principles, good or bad, on which such a law, or any other is founded. if a law be bad it is one thing to oppose the practice of it, but it is quite a different thing to expose its errors, to reason on its defects, and to show cause why it should be repealed, or why another ought to be substituted in its place. i have always held it an opinion (making it also my practice) that it is better to obey a bad law, making use at the same time of every argument to show its errors and procure its repeal, than forcibly to violate it; because the precedent of breaking a bad law might weaken the force, and lead to a discretionary violation, of those which are good. the case is the same with respect to principles and forms of government, or to what are called constitutions and the parts of which they are, composed. it is for the good of nations and not for the emolument or aggrandisement of particular individuals, that government ought to be established, and that mankind are at the expense of supporting it. the defects of every government and constitution both as to principle and form, must, on a parity of reasoning, be as open to discussion as the defects of a law, and it is a duty which every man owes to society to point them out. when those defects, and the means of remedying them, are generally seen by a nation, that nation will reform its government or its constitution in the one case, as the government repealed or reformed the law in the other. the operation of government is restricted to the making and the administering of laws; but it is to a nation that the right of forming or reforming, generating or regenerating constitutions and governments belong; and consequently those subjects, as subjects of investigation, are always before a country as a matter of right, and cannot, without invading the general rights of that country, be made subjects for prosecution. on this ground i will meet mr. burke whenever he please. it is better that the whole argument should come out than to seek to stifle it. it was himself that opened the controversy, and he ought not to desert it. i do not believe that monarchy and aristocracy will continue seven years longer in any of the enlightened countries in europe. if better reasons can be shown for them than against them, they will stand; if the contrary, they will not. mankind are not now to be told they shall not think, or they shall not read; and publications that go no farther than to investigate principles of government, to invite men to reason and to reflect, and to show the errors and excellences of different systems, have a right to appear. if they do not excite attention, they are not worth the trouble of a prosecution; and if they do, the prosecution will amount to nothing, since it cannot amount to a prohibition of reading. this would be a sentence on the public, instead of the author, and would also be the most effectual mode of making or hastening revolution. on all cases that apply universally to a nation, with respect to systems of government, a jury of twelve men is not competent to decide. where there are no witnesses to be examined, no facts to be proved, and where the whole matter is before the whole public, and the merits or demerits of it resting on their opinion; and where there is nothing to be known in a court, but what every body knows out of it, every twelve men is equally as good a jury as the other, and would most probably reverse each other's verdict; or, from the variety of their opinions, not be able to form one. it is one case, whether a nation approve a work, or a plan; but it is quite another case, whether it will commit to any such jury the power of determining whether that nation have a right to, or shall reform its government or not. i mention those cases that mr. burke may see i have not written on government without reflecting on what is law, as well as on what are rights.--the only effectual jury in such cases would be a convention of the whole nation fairly elected; for in all such cases the whole nation is the vicinage. if mr. burke will propose such a jury, i will waive all privileges of being the citizen of another country, and, defending its principles, abide the issue, provided he will do the same; for my opinion is, that his work and his principles would be condemned instead of mine. as to the prejudices which men have from education and habit, in favour of any particular form or system of government, those prejudices have yet to stand the test of reason and reflection. in fact, such prejudices are nothing. no man is prejudiced in favour of a thing, knowing it to be wrong. he is attached to it on the belief of its being right; and when he sees it is not so, the prejudice will be gone. we have but a defective idea of what prejudice is. it might be said, that until men think for themselves the whole is prejudice, and not opinion; for that only is opinion which is the result of reason and reflection. i offer this remark, that mr. burke may not confide too much in what have been the customary prejudices of the country. i do not believe that the people of england have ever been fairly and candidly dealt by. they have been imposed upon by parties, and by men assuming the character of leaders. it is time that the nation should rise above those trifles. it is time to dismiss that inattention which has so long been the encouraging cause of stretching taxation to excess. it is time to dismiss all those songs and toasts which are calculated to enslave, and operate to suffocate reflection. on all such subjects men have but to think, and they will neither act wrong nor be misled. to say that any people are not fit for freedom, is to make poverty their choice, and to say they had rather be loaded with taxes than not. if such a case could be proved, it would equally prove that those who govern are not fit to govern them, for they are a part of the same national mass. but admitting governments to be changed all over europe; it certainly may be done without convulsion or revenge. it is not worth making changes or revolutions, unless it be for some great national benefit: and when this shall appear to a nation, the danger will be, as in america and france, to those who oppose; and with this reflection i close my preface. thomas paine london, feb. , rights of man part ii. introduction. what archimedes said of the mechanical powers, may be applied to reason and liberty. "had we," said he, "a place to stand upon, we might raise the world." the revolution of america presented in politics what was only theory in mechanics. so deeply rooted were all the governments of the old world, and so effectually had the tyranny and the antiquity of habit established itself over the mind, that no beginning could be made in asia, africa, or europe, to reform the political condition of man. freedom had been hunted round the globe; reason was considered as rebellion; and the slavery of fear had made men afraid to think. but such is the irresistible nature of truth, that all it asks,--and all it wants,--is the liberty of appearing. the sun needs no inscription to distinguish him from darkness; and no sooner did the american governments display themselves to the world, than despotism felt a shock and man began to contemplate redress. the independence of america, considered merely as a separation from england, would have been a matter but of little importance, had it not been accompanied by a revolution in the principles and practice of governments. she made a stand, not for herself only, but for the world, and looked beyond the advantages herself could receive. even the hessian, though hired to fight against her, may live to bless his defeat; and england, condemning the viciousness of its government, rejoice in its miscarriage. as america was the only spot in the political world where the principle of universal reformation could begin, so also was it the best in the natural world. an assemblage of circumstances conspired, not only to give birth, but to add gigantic maturity to its principles. the scene which that country presents to the eye of a spectator, has something in it which generates and encourages great ideas. nature appears to him in magnitude. the mighty objects he beholds, act upon his mind by enlarging it, and he partakes of the greatness he contemplates.--its first settlers were emigrants from different european nations, and of diversified professions of religion, retiring from the governmental persecutions of the old world, and meeting in the new, not as enemies, but as brothers. the wants which necessarily accompany the cultivation of a wilderness produced among them a state of society, which countries long harassed by the quarrels and intrigues of governments, had neglected to cherish. in such a situation man becomes what he ought. he sees his species, not with the inhuman idea of a natural enemy, but as kindred; and the example shows to the artificial world, that man must go back to nature for information. from the rapid progress which america makes in every species of improvement, it is rational to conclude that, if the governments of asia, africa, and europe had begun on a principle similar to that of america, or had not been very early corrupted therefrom, those countries must by this time have been in a far superior condition to what they are. age after age has passed away, for no other purpose than to behold their wretchedness. could we suppose a spectator who knew nothing of the world, and who was put into it merely to make his observations, he would take a great part of the old world to be new, just struggling with the difficulties and hardships of an infant settlement. he could not suppose that the hordes of miserable poor with which old countries abound could be any other than those who had not yet had time to provide for themselves. little would he think they were the consequence of what in such countries they call government. if, from the more wretched parts of the old world, we look at those which are in an advanced stage of improvement we still find the greedy hand of government thrusting itself into every corner and crevice of industry, and grasping the spoil of the multitude. invention is continually exercised to furnish new pretences for revenue and taxation. it watches prosperity as its prey, and permits none to escape without a tribute. as revolutions have begun (and as the probability is always greater against a thing beginning, than of proceeding after it has begun), it is natural to expect that other revolutions will follow. the amazing and still increasing expenses with which old governments are conducted, the numerous wars they engage in or provoke, the embarrassments they throw in the way of universal civilisation and commerce, and the oppression and usurpation acted at home, have wearied out the patience, and exhausted the property of the world. in such a situation, and with such examples already existing, revolutions are to be looked for. they are become subjects of universal conversation, and may be considered as the order of the day. if systems of government can be introduced less expensive and more productive of general happiness than those which have existed, all attempts to oppose their progress will in the end be fruitless. reason, like time, will make its own way, and prejudice will fall in a combat with interest. if universal peace, civilisation, and commerce are ever to be the happy lot of man, it cannot be accomplished but by a revolution in the system of governments. all the monarchical governments are military. war is their trade, plunder and revenue their objects. while such governments continue, peace has not the absolute security of a day. what is the history of all monarchical governments but a disgustful picture of human wretchedness, and the accidental respite of a few years' repose? wearied with war, and tired with human butchery, they sat down to rest, and called it peace. this certainly is not the condition that heaven intended for man; and if this be monarchy, well might monarchy be reckoned among the sins of the jews. the revolutions which formerly took place in the world had nothing in them that interested the bulk of mankind. they extended only to a change of persons and measures, but not of principles, and rose or fell among the common transactions of the moment. what we now behold may not improperly be called a "counter-revolution." conquest and tyranny, at some earlier period, dispossessed man of his rights, and he is now recovering them. and as the tide of all human affairs has its ebb and flow in directions contrary to each other, so also is it in this. government founded on a moral theory, on a system of universal peace, on the indefeasible hereditary rights of man, is now revolving from west to east by a stronger impulse than the government of the sword revolved from east to west. it interests not particular individuals, but nations in its progress, and promises a new era to the human race. the danger to which the success of revolutions is most exposed is that of attempting them before the principles on which they proceed, and the advantages to result from them, are sufficiently seen and understood. almost everything appertaining to the circumstances of a nation, has been absorbed and confounded under the general and mysterious word government. though it avoids taking to its account the errors it commits, and the mischiefs it occasions, it fails not to arrogate to itself whatever has the appearance of prosperity. it robs industry of its honours, by pedantically making itself the cause of its effects; and purloins from the general character of man, the merits that appertain to him as a social being. it may therefore be of use in this day of revolutions to discriminate between those things which are the effect of government, and those which are not. this will best be done by taking a review of society and civilisation, and the consequences resulting therefrom, as things distinct from what are called governments. by beginning with this investigation, we shall be able to assign effects to their proper causes and analyse the mass of common errors. chapter i. of society and civilisation great part of that order which reigns among mankind is not the effect of government. it has its origin in the principles of society and the natural constitution of man. it existed prior to government, and would exist if the formality of government was abolished. the mutual dependence and reciprocal interest which man has upon man, and all the parts of civilised community upon each other, create that great chain of connection which holds it together. the landholder, the farmer, the manufacturer, the merchant, the tradesman, and every occupation, prospers by the aid which each receives from the other, and from the whole. common interest regulates their concerns, and forms their law; and the laws which common usage ordains, have a greater influence than the laws of government. in fine, society performs for itself almost everything which is ascribed to government. to understand the nature and quantity of government proper for man, it is necessary to attend to his character. as nature created him for social life, she fitted him for the station she intended. in all cases she made his natural wants greater than his individual powers. no one man is capable, without the aid of society, of supplying his own wants, and those wants, acting upon every individual, impel the whole of them into society, as naturally as gravitation acts to a centre. but she has gone further. she has not only forced man into society by a diversity of wants which the reciprocal aid of each other can supply, but she has implanted in him a system of social affections, which, though not necessary to his existence, are essential to his happiness. there is no period in life when this love for society ceases to act. it begins and ends with our being. if we examine with attention into the composition and constitution of man, the diversity of his wants, and the diversity of talents in different men for reciprocally accommodating the wants of each other, his propensity to society, and consequently to preserve the advantages resulting from it, we shall easily discover, that a great part of what is called government is mere imposition. government is no farther necessary than to supply the few cases to which society and civilisation are not conveniently competent; and instances are not wanting to show, that everything which government can usefully add thereto, has been performed by the common consent of society, without government. for upwards of two years from the commencement of the american war, and to a longer period in several of the american states, there were no established forms of government. the old governments had been abolished, and the country was too much occupied in defence to employ its attention in establishing new governments; yet during this interval order and harmony were preserved as inviolate as in any country in europe. there is a natural aptness in man, and more so in society, because it embraces a greater variety of abilities and resource, to accommodate itself to whatever situation it is in. the instant formal government is abolished, society begins to act: a general association takes place, and common interest produces common security. so far is it from being true, as has been pretended, that the abolition of any formal government is the dissolution of society, that it acts by a contrary impulse, and brings the latter the closer together. all that part of its organisation which it had committed to its government, devolves again upon itself, and acts through its medium. when men, as well from natural instinct as from reciprocal benefits, have habituated themselves to social and civilised life, there is always enough of its principles in practice to carry them through any changes they may find necessary or convenient to make in their government. in short, man is so naturally a creature of society that it is almost impossible to put him out of it. formal government makes but a small part of civilised life; and when even the best that human wisdom can devise is established, it is a thing more in name and idea than in fact. it is to the great and fundamental principles of society and civilisation--to the common usage universally consented to, and mutually and reciprocally maintained--to the unceasing circulation of interest, which, passing through its million channels, invigorates the whole mass of civilised man--it is to these things, infinitely more than to anything which even the best instituted government can perform, that the safety and prosperity of the individual and of the whole depends. the more perfect civilisation is, the less occasion has it for government, because the more does it regulate its own affairs, and govern itself; but so contrary is the practice of old governments to the reason of the case, that the expenses of them increase in the proportion they ought to diminish. it is but few general laws that civilised life requires, and those of such common usefulness, that whether they are enforced by the forms of government or not, the effect will be nearly the same. if we consider what the principles are that first condense men into society, and what are the motives that regulate their mutual intercourse afterwards, we shall find, by the time we arrive at what is called government, that nearly the whole of the business is performed by the natural operation of the parts upon each other. man, with respect to all those matters, is more a creature of consistency than he is aware, or than governments would wish him to believe. all the great laws of society are laws of nature. those of trade and commerce, whether with respect to the intercourse of individuals or of nations, are laws of mutual and reciprocal interest. they are followed and obeyed, because it is the interest of the parties so to do, and not on account of any formal laws their governments may impose or interpose. but how often is the natural propensity to society disturbed or destroyed by the operations of government! when the latter, instead of being ingrafted on the principles of the former, assumes to exist for itself, and acts by partialities of favour and oppression, it becomes the cause of the mischiefs it ought to prevent. if we look back to the riots and tumults which at various times have happened in england, we shall find that they did not proceed from the want of a government, but that government was itself the generating cause; instead of consolidating society it divided it; it deprived it of its natural cohesion, and engendered discontents and disorders which otherwise would not have existed. in those associations which men promiscuously form for the purpose of trade, or of any concern in which government is totally out of the question, and in which they act merely on the principles of society, we see how naturally the various parties unite; and this shows, by comparison, that governments, so far from being always the cause or means of order, are often the destruction of it. the riots of had no other source than the remains of those prejudices which the government itself had encouraged. but with respect to england there are also other causes. excess and inequality of taxation, however disguised in the means, never fail to appear in their effects. as a great mass of the community are thrown thereby into poverty and discontent, they are constantly on the brink of commotion; and deprived, as they unfortunately are, of the means of information, are easily heated to outrage. whatever the apparent cause of any riots may be, the real one is always want of happiness. it shows that something is wrong in the system of government that injures the felicity by which society is to be preserved. but as a fact is superior to reasoning, the instance of america presents itself to confirm these observations. if there is a country in the world where concord, according to common calculation, would be least expected, it is america. made up as it is of people from different nations,*[ ] accustomed to different forms and habits of government, speaking different languages, and more different in their modes of worship, it would appear that the union of such a people was impracticable; but by the simple operation of constructing government on the principles of society and the rights of man, every difficulty retires, and all the parts are brought into cordial unison. there the poor are not oppressed, the rich are not privileged. industry is not mortified by the splendid extravagance of a court rioting at its expense. their taxes are few, because their government is just: and as there is nothing to render them wretched, there is nothing to engender riots and tumults. a metaphysical man, like mr. burke, would have tortured his invention to discover how such a people could be governed. he would have supposed that some must be managed by fraud, others by force, and all by some contrivance; that genius must be hired to impose upon ignorance, and show and parade to fascinate the vulgar. lost in the abundance of his researches, he would have resolved and re-resolved, and finally overlooked the plain and easy road that lay directly before him. one of the great advantages of the american revolution has been, that it led to a discovery of the principles, and laid open the imposition, of governments. all the revolutions till then had been worked within the atmosphere of a court, and never on the grand floor of a nation. the parties were always of the class of courtiers; and whatever was their rage for reformation, they carefully preserved the fraud of the profession. in all cases they took care to represent government as a thing made up of mysteries, which only themselves understood; and they hid from the understanding of the nation the only thing that was beneficial to know, namely, that government is nothing more than a national association adding on the principles of society. having thus endeavoured to show that the social and civilised state of man is capable of performing within itself almost everything necessary to its protection and government, it will be proper, on the other hand, to take a review of the present old governments, and examine whether their principles and practice are correspondent thereto. chapter ii. of the origin of the present old governments it is impossible that such governments as have hitherto existed in the world, could have commenced by any other means than a total violation of every principle sacred and moral. the obscurity in which the origin of all the present old governments is buried, implies the iniquity and disgrace with which they began. the origin of the present government of america and france will ever be remembered, because it is honourable to record it; but with respect to the rest, even flattery has consigned them to the tomb of time, without an inscription. it could have been no difficult thing in the early and solitary ages of the world, while the chief employment of men was that of attending flocks and herds, for a banditti of ruffians to overrun a country, and lay it under contributions. their power being thus established, the chief of the band contrived to lose the name of robber in that of monarch; and hence the origin of monarchy and kings. the origin of the government of england, so far as relates to what is called its line of monarchy, being one of the latest, is perhaps the best recorded. the hatred which the norman invasion and tyranny begat, must have been deeply rooted in the nation, to have outlived the contrivance to obliterate it. though not a courtier will talk of the curfew-bell, not a village in england has forgotten it. those bands of robbers having parcelled out the world, and divided it into dominions, began, as is naturally the case, to quarrel with each other. what at first was obtained by violence was considered by others as lawful to be taken, and a second plunderer succeeded the first. they alternately invaded the dominions which each had assigned to himself, and the brutality with which they treated each other explains the original character of monarchy. it was ruffian torturing ruffian. the conqueror considered the conquered, not as his prisoner, but his property. he led him in triumph rattling in chains, and doomed him, at pleasure, to slavery or death. as time obliterated the history of their beginning, their successors assumed new appearances, to cut off the entail of their disgrace, but their principles and objects remained the same. what at first was plunder, assumed the softer name of revenue; and the power originally usurped, they affected to inherit. from such beginning of governments, what could be expected but a continued system of war and extortion? it has established itself into a trade. the vice is not peculiar to one more than to another, but is the common principle of all. there does not exist within such governments sufficient stamina whereon to engraft reformation; and the shortest and most effectual remedy is to begin anew on the ground of the nation. what scenes of horror, what perfection of iniquity, present themselves in contemplating the character and reviewing the history of such governments! if we would delineate human nature with a baseness of heart and hypocrisy of countenance that reflection would shudder at and humanity disown, it is kings, courts and cabinets that must sit for the portrait. man, naturally as he is, with all his faults about him, is not up to the character. can we possibly suppose that if governments had originated in a right principle, and had not an interest in pursuing a wrong one, the world could have been in the wretched and quarrelsome condition we have seen it? what inducement has the farmer, while following the plough, to lay aside his peaceful pursuit, and go to war with the farmer of another country? or what inducement has the manufacturer? what is dominion to them, or to any class of men in a nation? does it add an acre to any man's estate, or raise its value? are not conquest and defeat each of the same price, and taxes the never-failing consequence?--though this reasoning may be good to a nation, it is not so to a government. war is the pharo-table of governments, and nations the dupes of the game. if there is anything to wonder at in this miserable scene of governments more than might be expected, it is the progress which the peaceful arts of agriculture, manufacture and commerce have made beneath such a long accumulating load of discouragement and oppression. it serves to show that instinct in animals does not act with stronger impulse than the principles of society and civilisation operate in man. under all discouragements, he pursues his object, and yields to nothing but impossibilities. chapter iii. of the old and new systems of government nothing can appear more contradictory than the principles on which the old governments began, and the condition to which society, civilisation and commerce are capable of carrying mankind. government, on the old system, is an assumption of power, for the aggrandisement of itself; on the new, a delegation of power for the common benefit of society. the former supports itself by keeping up a system of war; the latter promotes a system of peace, as the true means of enriching a nation. the one encourages national prejudices; the other promotes universal society, as the means of universal commerce. the one measures its prosperity, by the quantity of revenue it extorts; the other proves its excellence, by the small quantity of taxes it requires. mr. burke has talked of old and new whigs. if he can amuse himself with childish names and distinctions, i shall not interrupt his pleasure. it is not to him, but to the abbe sieyes, that i address this chapter. i am already engaged to the latter gentleman to discuss the subject of monarchical government; and as it naturally occurs in comparing the old and new systems, i make this the opportunity of presenting to him my observations. i shall occasionally take mr. burke in my way. though it might be proved that the system of government now called the new, is the most ancient in principle of all that have existed, being founded on the original, inherent rights of man: yet, as tyranny and the sword have suspended the exercise of those rights for many centuries past, it serves better the purpose of distinction to call it the new, than to claim the right of calling it the old. the first general distinction between those two systems, is, that the one now called the old is hereditary, either in whole or in part; and the new is entirely representative. it rejects all hereditary government: first, as being an imposition on mankind. secondly, as inadequate to the purposes for which government is necessary. with respect to the first of these heads--it cannot be proved by what right hereditary government could begin; neither does there exist within the compass of mortal power a right to establish it. man has no authority over posterity in matters of personal right; and, therefore, no man, or body of men, had, or can have, a right to set up hereditary government. were even ourselves to come again into existence, instead of being succeeded by posterity, we have not now the right of taking from ourselves the rights which would then be ours. on what ground, then, do we pretend to take them from others? all hereditary government is in its nature tyranny. an heritable crown, or an heritable throne, or by what other fanciful name such things may be called, have no other significant explanation than that mankind are heritable property. to inherit a government, is to inherit the people, as if they were flocks and herds. with respect to the second head, that of being inadequate to the purposes for which government is necessary, we have only to consider what government essentially is, and compare it with the circumstances to which hereditary succession is subject. government ought to be a thing always in full maturity. it ought to be so constructed as to be superior to all the accidents to which individual man is subject; and, therefore, hereditary succession, by being subject to them all, is the most irregular and imperfect of all the systems of government. we have heard the rights of man called a levelling system; but the only system to which the word levelling is truly applicable, is the hereditary monarchical system. it is a system of mental levelling. it indiscriminately admits every species of character to the same authority. vice and virtue, ignorance and wisdom, in short, every quality good or bad, is put on the same level. kings succeed each other, not as rationals, but as animals. it signifies not what their mental or moral characters are. can we then be surprised at the abject state of the human mind in monarchical countries, when the government itself is formed on such an abject levelling system?--it has no fixed character. to-day it is one thing; to-morrow it is something else. it changes with the temper of every succeeding individual, and is subject to all the varieties of each. it is government through the medium of passions and accidents. it appears under all the various characters of childhood, decrepitude, dotage, a thing at nurse, in leading-strings, or in crutches. it reverses the wholesome order of nature. it occasionally puts children over men, and the conceits of nonage over wisdom and experience. in short, we cannot conceive a more ridiculous figure of government, than hereditary succession, in all its cases, presents. could it be made a decree in nature, or an edict registered in heaven, and man could know it, that virtue and wisdom should invariably appertain to hereditary succession, the objection to it would be removed; but when we see that nature acts as if she disowned and sported with the hereditary system; that the mental character of successors, in all countries, is below the average of human understanding; that one is a tyrant, another an idiot, a third insane, and some all three together, it is impossible to attach confidence to it, when reason in man has power to act. it is not to the abbe sieyes that i need apply this reasoning; he has already saved me that trouble by giving his own opinion upon the case. "if it be asked," says he, "what is my opinion with respect to hereditary right, i answer without hesitation, that in good theory, an hereditary transmission of any power of office, can never accord with the laws of a true representation. hereditaryship is, in this sense, as much an attaint upon principle, as an outrage upon society. but let us," continues he, "refer to the history of all elective monarchies and principalities: is there one in which the elective mode is not worse than the hereditary succession?" as to debating on which is the worst of the two, it is admitting both to be bad; and herein we are agreed. the preference which the abbe has given, is a condemnation of the thing that he prefers. such a mode of reasoning on such a subject is inadmissible, because it finally amounts to an accusation upon providence, as if she had left to man no other choice with respect to government than between two evils, the best of which he admits to be "an attaint upon principle, and an outrage upon society." passing over, for the present, all the evils and mischiefs which monarchy has occasioned in the world, nothing can more effectually prove its uselessness in a state of civil government, than making it hereditary. would we make any office hereditary that required wisdom and abilities to fill it? and where wisdom and abilities are not necessary, such an office, whatever it may be, is superfluous or insignificant. hereditary succession is a burlesque upon monarchy. it puts it in the most ridiculous light, by presenting it as an office which any child or idiot may fill. it requires some talents to be a common mechanic; but to be a king requires only the animal figure of man--a sort of breathing automaton. this sort of superstition may last a few years more, but it cannot long resist the awakened reason and interest of man. as to mr. burke, he is a stickler for monarchy, not altogether as a pensioner, if he is one, which i believe, but as a political man. he has taken up a contemptible opinion of mankind, who, in their turn, are taking up the same of him. he considers them as a herd of beings that must be governed by fraud, effigy, and show; and an idol would be as good a figure of monarchy with him, as a man. i will, however, do him the justice to say that, with respect to america, he has been very complimentary. he always contended, at least in my hearing, that the people of america were more enlightened than those of england, or of any country in europe; and that therefore the imposition of show was not necessary in their governments. though the comparison between hereditary and elective monarchy, which the abbe has made, is unnecessary to the case, because the representative system rejects both: yet, were i to make the comparison, i should decide contrary to what he has done. the civil wars which have originated from contested hereditary claims, are more numerous, and have been more dreadful, and of longer continuance, than those which have been occasioned by election. all the civil wars in france arose from the hereditary system; they were either produced by hereditary claims, or by the imperfection of the hereditary form, which admits of regencies or monarchy at nurse. with respect to england, its history is full of the same misfortunes. the contests for succession between the houses of york and lancaster lasted a whole century; and others of a similar nature have renewed themselves since that period. those of and were of the same kind. the succession war for the crown of spain embroiled almost half europe. the disturbances of holland are generated from the hereditaryship of the stadtholder. a government calling itself free, with an hereditary office, is like a thorn in the flesh, that produces a fermentation which endeavours to discharge it. but i might go further, and place also foreign wars, of whatever kind, to the same cause. it is by adding the evil of hereditary succession to that of monarchy, that a permanent family interest is created, whose constant objects are dominion and revenue. poland, though an elective monarchy, has had fewer wars than those which are hereditary; and it is the only government that has made a voluntary essay, though but a small one, to reform the condition of the country. having thus glanced at a few of the defects of the old, or hereditary systems of government, let us compare it with the new, or representative system. the representative system takes society and civilisation for its basis; nature, reason, and experience, for its guide. experience, in all ages, and in all countries, has demonstrated that it is impossible to control nature in her distribution of mental powers. she gives them as she pleases. whatever is the rule by which she, apparently to us, scatters them among mankind, that rule remains a secret to man. it would be as ridiculous to attempt to fix the hereditaryship of human beauty, as of wisdom. whatever wisdom constituently is, it is like a seedless plant; it may be reared when it appears, but it cannot be voluntarily produced. there is always a sufficiency somewhere in the general mass of society for all purposes; but with respect to the parts of society, it is continually changing its place. it rises in one to-day, in another to-morrow, and has most probably visited in rotation every family of the earth, and again withdrawn. as this is in the order of nature, the order of government must necessarily follow it, or government will, as we see it does, degenerate into ignorance. the hereditary system, therefore, is as repugnant to human wisdom as to human rights; and is as absurd as it is unjust. as the republic of letters brings forward the best literary productions, by giving to genius a fair and universal chance; so the representative system of government is calculated to produce the wisest laws, by collecting wisdom from where it can be found. i smile to myself when i contemplate the ridiculous insignificance into which literature and all the sciences would sink, were they made hereditary; and i carry the same idea into governments. an hereditary governor is as inconsistent as an hereditary author. i know not whether homer or euclid had sons; but i will venture an opinion that if they had, and had left their works unfinished, those sons could not have completed them. do we need a stronger evidence of the absurdity of hereditary government than is seen in the descendants of those men, in any line of life, who once were famous? is there scarcely an instance in which there is not a total reverse of the character? it appears as if the tide of mental faculties flowed as far as it could in certain channels, and then forsook its course, and arose in others. how irrational then is the hereditary system, which establishes channels of power, in company with which wisdom refuses to flow! by continuing this absurdity, man is perpetually in contradiction with himself; he accepts, for a king, or a chief magistrate, or a legislator, a person whom he would not elect for a constable. it appears to general observation, that revolutions create genius and talents; but those events do no more than bring them forward. there is existing in man, a mass of sense lying in a dormant state, and which, unless something excites it to action, will descend with him, in that condition, to the grave. as it is to the advantage of society that the whole of its faculties should be employed, the construction of government ought to be such as to bring forward, by a quiet and regular operation, all that extent of capacity which never fails to appear in revolutions. this cannot take place in the insipid state of hereditary government, not only because it prevents, but because it operates to benumb. when the mind of a nation is bowed down by any political superstition in its government, such as hereditary succession is, it loses a considerable portion of its powers on all other subjects and objects. hereditary succession requires the same obedience to ignorance, as to wisdom; and when once the mind can bring itself to pay this indiscriminate reverence, it descends below the stature of mental manhood. it is fit to be great only in little things. it acts a treachery upon itself, and suffocates the sensations that urge the detection. though the ancient governments present to us a miserable picture of the condition of man, there is one which above all others exempts itself from the general description. i mean the democracy of the athenians. we see more to admire, and less to condemn, in that great, extraordinary people, than in anything which history affords. mr. burke is so little acquainted with constituent principles of government, that he confounds democracy and representation together. representation was a thing unknown in the ancient democracies. in those the mass of the people met and enacted laws (grammatically speaking) in the first person. simple democracy was no other than the common hall of the ancients. it signifies the form, as well as the public principle of the government. as those democracies increased in population, and the territory extended, the simple democratical form became unwieldy and impracticable; and as the system of representation was not known, the consequence was, they either degenerated convulsively into monarchies, or became absorbed into such as then existed. had the system of representation been then understood, as it now is, there is no reason to believe that those forms of government, now called monarchical or aristocratical, would ever have taken place. it was the want of some method to consolidate the parts of society, after it became too populous, and too extensive for the simple democratical form, and also the lax and solitary condition of shepherds and herdsmen in other parts of the world, that afforded opportunities to those unnatural modes of government to begin. as it is necessary to clear away the rubbish of errors, into which the subject of government has been thrown, i will proceed to remark on some others. it has always been the political craft of courtiers and court-governments, to abuse something which they called republicanism; but what republicanism was, or is, they never attempt to explain. let us examine a little into this case. the only forms of government are the democratical, the aristocratical, the monarchical, and what is now called the representative. what is called a republic is not any particular form of government. it is wholly characteristical of the purport, matter or object for which government ought to be instituted, and on which it is to be employed, res-publica, the public affairs, or the public good; or, literally translated, the public thing. it is a word of a good original, referring to what ought to be the character and business of government; and in this sense it is naturally opposed to the word monarchy, which has a base original signification. it means arbitrary power in an individual person; in the exercise of which, himself, and not the res-publica, is the object. every government that does not act on the principle of a republic, or in other words, that does not make the res-publica its whole and sole object, is not a good government. republican government is no other than government established and conducted for the interest of the public, as well individually as collectively. it is not necessarily connected with any particular form, but it most naturally associates with the representative form, as being best calculated to secure the end for which a nation is at the expense of supporting it. various forms of government have affected to style themselves a republic. poland calls itself a republic, which is an hereditary aristocracy, with what is called an elective monarchy. holland calls itself a republic, which is chiefly aristocratical, with an hereditary stadtholdership. but the government of america, which is wholly on the system of representation, is the only real republic, in character and in practice, that now exists. its government has no other object than the public business of the nation, and therefore it is properly a republic; and the americans have taken care that this, and no other, shall always be the object of their government, by their rejecting everything hereditary, and establishing governments on the system of representation only. those who have said that a republic is not a form of government calculated for countries of great extent, mistook, in the first place, the business of a government, for a form of government; for the res-publica equally appertains to every extent of territory and population. and, in the second place, if they meant anything with respect to form, it was the simple democratical form, such as was the mode of government in the ancient democracies, in which there was no representation. the case, therefore, is not, that a republic cannot be extensive, but that it cannot be extensive on the simple democratical form; and the question naturally presents itself, what is the best form of government for conducting the res-publica, or the public business of a nation, after it becomes too extensive and populous for the simple democratical form? it cannot be monarchy, because monarchy is subject to an objection of the same amount to which the simple democratical form was subject. it is possible that an individual may lay down a system of principles, on which government shall be constitutionally established to any extent of territory. this is no more than an operation of the mind, acting by its own powers. but the practice upon those principles, as applying to the various and numerous circumstances of a nation, its agriculture, manufacture, trade, commerce, etc., etc., a knowledge of a different kind, and which can be had only from the various parts of society. it is an assemblage of practical knowledge, which no individual can possess; and therefore the monarchical form is as much limited, in useful practice, from the incompetency of knowledge, as was the democratical form, from the multiplicity of population. the one degenerates, by extension, into confusion; the other, into ignorance and incapacity, of which all the great monarchies are an evidence. the monarchical form, therefore, could not be a substitute for the democratical, because it has equal inconveniences. much less could it when made hereditary. this is the most effectual of all forms to preclude knowledge. neither could the high democratical mind have voluntarily yielded itself to be governed by children and idiots, and all the motley insignificance of character, which attends such a mere animal system, the disgrace and the reproach of reason and of man. as to the aristocratical form, it has the same vices and defects with the monarchical, except that the chance of abilities is better from the proportion of numbers, but there is still no security for the right use and application of them.*[ ] referring them to the original simple democracy, it affords the true data from which government on a large scale can begin. it is incapable of extension, not from its principle, but from the inconvenience of its form; and monarchy and aristocracy, from their incapacity. retaining, then, democracy as the ground, and rejecting the corrupt systems of monarchy and aristocracy, the representative system naturally presents itself; remedying at once the defects of the simple democracy as to form, and the incapacity of the other two with respect to knowledge. simple democracy was society governing itself without the aid of secondary means. by ingrafting representation upon democracy, we arrive at a system of government capable of embracing and confederating all the various interests and every extent of territory and population; and that also with advantages as much superior to hereditary government, as the republic of letters is to hereditary literature. it is on this system that the american government is founded. it is representation ingrafted upon democracy. it has fixed the form by a scale parallel in all cases to the extent of the principle. what athens was in miniature america will be in magnitude. the one was the wonder of the ancient world; the other is becoming the admiration of the present. it is the easiest of all the forms of government to be understood and the most eligible in practice; and excludes at once the ignorance and insecurity of the hereditary mode, and the inconvenience of the simple democracy. it is impossible to conceive a system of government capable of acting over such an extent of territory, and such a circle of interests, as is immediately produced by the operation of representation. france, great and populous as it is, is but a spot in the capaciousness of the system. it is preferable to simple democracy even in small territories. athens, by representation, would have outrivalled her own democracy. that which is called government, or rather that which we ought to conceive government to be, is no more than some common center in which all the parts of society unite. this cannot be accomplished by any method so conducive to the various interests of the community, as by the representative system. it concentrates the knowledge necessary to the interest of the parts, and of the whole. it places government in a state of constant maturity. it is, as has already been observed, never young, never old. it is subject neither to nonage, nor dotage. it is never in the cradle, nor on crutches. it admits not of a separation between knowledge and power, and is superior, as government always ought to be, to all the accidents of individual man, and is therefore superior to what is called monarchy. a nation is not a body, the figure of which is to be represented by the human body; but is like a body contained within a circle, having a common center, in which every radius meets; and that center is formed by representation. to connect representation with what is called monarchy, is eccentric government. representation is of itself the delegated monarchy of a nation, and cannot debase itself by dividing it with another. mr. burke has two or three times, in his parliamentary speeches, and in his publications, made use of a jingle of words that convey no ideas. speaking of government, he says, "it is better to have monarchy for its basis, and republicanism for its corrective, than republicanism for its basis, and monarchy for its corrective."--if he means that it is better to correct folly with wisdom, than wisdom with folly, i will no otherwise contend with him, than that it would be much better to reject the folly entirely. but what is this thing which mr. burke calls monarchy? will he explain it? all men can understand what representation is; and that it must necessarily include a variety of knowledge and talents. but what security is there for the same qualities on the part of monarchy? or, when the monarchy is a child, where then is the wisdom? what does it know about government? who then is the monarch, or where is the monarchy? if it is to be performed by regency, it proves to be a farce. a regency is a mock species of republic, and the whole of monarchy deserves no better description. it is a thing as various as imagination can paint. it has none of the stable character that government ought to possess. every succession is a revolution, and every regency a counter-revolution. the whole of it is a scene of perpetual court cabal and intrigue, of which mr. burke is himself an instance. to render monarchy consistent with government, the next in succession should not be born a child, but a man at once, and that man a solomon. it is ridiculous that nations are to wait and government be interrupted till boys grow to be men. whether i have too little sense to see, or too much to be imposed upon; whether i have too much or too little pride, or of anything else, i leave out of the question; but certain it is, that what is called monarchy, always appears to me a silly, contemptible thing. i compare it to something kept behind a curtain, about which there is a great deal of bustle and fuss, and a wonderful air of seeming solemnity; but when, by any accident, the curtain happens to be open--and the company see what it is, they burst into laughter. in the representative system of government, nothing of this can happen. like the nation itself, it possesses a perpetual stamina, as well of body as of mind, and presents itself on the open theatre of the world in a fair and manly manner. whatever are its excellences or defects, they are visible to all. it exists not by fraud and mystery; it deals not in cant and sophistry; but inspires a language that, passing from heart to heart, is felt and understood. we must shut our eyes against reason, we must basely degrade our understanding, not to see the folly of what is called monarchy. nature is orderly in all her works; but this is a mode of government that counteracts nature. it turns the progress of the human faculties upside down. it subjects age to be governed by children, and wisdom by folly. on the contrary, the representative system is always parallel with the order and immutable laws of nature, and meets the reason of man in every part. for example: in the american federal government, more power is delegated to the president of the united states than to any other individual member of congress. he cannot, therefore, be elected to this office under the age of thirty-five years. by this time the judgment of man becomes more matured, and he has lived long enough to be acquainted with men and things, and the country with him.--but on the monarchial plan (exclusive of the numerous chances there are against every man born into the world, of drawing a prize in the lottery of human faculties), the next in succession, whatever he may be, is put at the head of a nation, and of a government, at the age of eighteen years. does this appear like an action of wisdom? is it consistent with the proper dignity and the manly character of a nation? where is the propriety of calling such a lad the father of the people?--in all other cases, a person is a minor until the age of twenty-one years. before this period, he is not trusted with the management of an acre of land, or with the heritable property of a flock of sheep, or an herd of swine; but, wonderful to tell! he may, at the age of eighteen years, be trusted with a nation. that monarchy is all a bubble, a mere court artifice to procure money, is evident (at least to me) in every character in which it can be viewed. it would be impossible, on the rational system of representative government, to make out a bill of expenses to such an enormous amount as this deception admits. government is not of itself a very chargeable institution. the whole expense of the federal government of america, founded, as i have already said, on the system of representation, and extending over a country nearly ten times as large as england, is but six hundred thousand dollars, or one hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds sterling. i presume that no man in his sober senses will compare the character of any of the kings of europe with that of general washington. yet, in france, and also in england, the expense of the civil list only, for the support of one man, is eight times greater than the whole expense of the federal government in america. to assign a reason for this, appears almost impossible. the generality of people in america, especially the poor, are more able to pay taxes, than the generality of people either in france or england. but the case is, that the representative system diffuses such a body of knowledge throughout a nation, on the subject of government, as to explode ignorance and preclude imposition. the craft of courts cannot be acted on that ground. there is no place for mystery; nowhere for it to begin. those who are not in the representation, know as much of the nature of business as those who are. an affectation of mysterious importance would there be scouted. nations can have no secrets; and the secrets of courts, like those of individuals, are always their defects. in the representative system, the reason for everything must publicly appear. every man is a proprietor in government, and considers it a necessary part of his business to understand. it concerns his interest, because it affects his property. he examines the cost, and compares it with the advantages; and above all, he does not adopt the slavish custom of following what in other governments are called leaders. it can only be by blinding the understanding of man, and making him believe that government is some wonderful mysterious thing, that excessive revenues are obtained. monarchy is well calculated to ensure this end. it is the popery of government; a thing kept up to amuse the ignorant, and quiet them into taxes. the government of a free country, properly speaking, is not in the persons, but in the laws. the enacting of those requires no great expense; and when they are administered, the whole of civil government is performed--the rest is all court contrivance. chapter iv. of constitutions that men mean distinct and separate things when they speak of constitutions and of governments, is evident; or why are those terms distinctly and separately used? a constitution is not the act of a government, but of a people constituting a government; and government without a constitution, is power without a right. all power exercised over a nation, must have some beginning. it must either be delegated or assumed. there are no other sources. all delegated power is trust, and all assumed power is usurpation. time does not alter the nature and quality of either. in viewing this subject, the case and circumstances of america present themselves as in the beginning of a world; and our enquiry into the origin of government is shortened, by referring to the facts that have arisen in our own day. we have no occasion to roam for information into the obscure field of antiquity, nor hazard ourselves upon conjecture. we are brought at once to the point of seeing government begin, as if we had lived in the beginning of time. the real volume, not of history, but of facts, is directly before us, unmutilated by contrivance, or the errors of tradition. i will here concisely state the commencement of the american constitutions; by which the difference between constitutions and governments will sufficiently appear. it may not appear improper to remind the reader that the united states of america consist of thirteen separate states, each of which established a government for itself, after the declaration of independence, done the th of july, . each state acted independently of the rest, in forming its governments; but the same general principle pervades the whole. when the several state governments were formed, they proceeded to form the federal government, that acts over the whole in all matters which concern the interest of the whole, or which relate to the intercourse of the several states with each other, or with foreign nations. i will begin with giving an instance from one of the state governments (that of pennsylvania) and then proceed to the federal government. the state of pennsylvania, though nearly of the same extent of territory as england, was then divided into only twelve counties. each of those counties had elected a committee at the commencement of the dispute with the english government; and as the city of philadelphia, which also had its committee, was the most central for intelligence, it became the center of communication to the several country committees. when it became necessary to proceed to the formation of a government, the committee of philadelphia proposed a conference of all the committees, to be held in that city, and which met the latter end of july, . though these committees had been duly elected by the people, they were not elected expressly for the purpose, nor invested with the authority of forming a constitution; and as they could not, consistently with the american idea of rights, assume such a power, they could only confer upon the matter, and put it into a train of operation. the conferees, therefore, did no more than state the case, and recommend to the several counties to elect six representatives for each county, to meet in convention at philadelphia, with powers to form a constitution, and propose it for public consideration. this convention, of which benjamin franklin was president, having met and deliberated, and agreed upon a constitution, they next ordered it to be published, not as a thing established, but for the consideration of the whole people, their approbation or rejection, and then adjourned to a stated time. when the time of adjournment was expired, the convention re-assembled; and as the general opinion of the people in approbation of it was then known, the constitution was signed, sealed, and proclaimed on the authority of the people and the original instrument deposited as a public record. the convention then appointed a day for the general election of the representatives who were to compose the government, and the time it should commence; and having done this they dissolved, and returned to their several homes and occupations. in this constitution were laid down, first, a declaration of rights; then followed the form which the government should have, and the powers it should possess--the authority of the courts of judicature, and of juries--the manner in which elections should be conducted, and the proportion of representatives to the number of electors--the time which each succeeding assembly should continue, which was one year--the mode of levying, and of accounting for the expenditure, of public money--of appointing public officers, etc., etc., etc. no article of this constitution could be altered or infringed at the discretion of the government that was to ensue. it was to that government a law. but as it would have been unwise to preclude the benefit of experience, and in order also to prevent the accumulation of errors, if any should be found, and to preserve an unison of government with the circumstances of the state at all times, the constitution provided that, at the expiration of every seven years, a convention should be elected, for the express purpose of revising the constitution, and making alterations, additions, or abolitions therein, if any such should be found necessary. here we see a regular process--a government issuing out of a constitution, formed by the people in their original character; and that constitution serving, not only as an authority, but as a law of control to the government. it was the political bible of the state. scarcely a family was without it. every member of the government had a copy; and nothing was more common, when any debate arose on the principle of a bill, or on the extent of any species of authority, than for the members to take the printed constitution out of their pocket, and read the chapter with which such matter in debate was connected. having thus given an instance from one of the states, i will show the proceedings by which the federal constitution of the united states arose and was formed. congress, at its two first meetings, in september , and may , was nothing more than a deputation from the legislatures of the several provinces, afterwards states; and had no other authority than what arose from common consent, and the necessity of its acting as a public body. in everything which related to the internal affairs of america, congress went no further than to issue recommendations to the several provincial assemblies, who at discretion adopted them or not. nothing on the part of congress was compulsive; yet, in this situation, it was more faithfully and affectionately obeyed than was any government in europe. this instance, like that of the national assembly in france, sufficiently shows, that the strength of government does not consist in any thing itself, but in the attachment of a nation, and the interest which a people feel in supporting it. when this is lost, government is but a child in power; and though, like the old government in france, it may harass individuals for a while, it but facilitates its own fall. after the declaration of independence, it became consistent with the principle on which representative government is founded, that the authority of congress should be defined and established. whether that authority should be more or less than congress then discretionarily exercised was not the question. it was merely the rectitude of the measure. for this purpose, the act, called the act of confederation (which was a sort of imperfect federal constitution), was proposed, and, after long deliberation, was concluded in the year . it was not the act of congress, because it is repugnant to the principles of representative government that a body should give power to itself. congress first informed the several states, of the powers which it conceived were necessary to be invested in the union, to enable it to perform the duties and services required from it; and the states severally agreed with each other, and concentrated in congress those powers. it may not be improper to observe that in both those instances (the one of pennsylvania, and the other of the united states), there is no such thing as the idea of a compact between the people on one side, and the government on the other. the compact was that of the people with each other, to produce and constitute a government. to suppose that any government can be a party in a compact with the whole people, is to suppose it to have existence before it can have a right to exist. the only instance in which a compact can take place between the people and those who exercise the government, is, that the people shall pay them, while they choose to employ them. government is not a trade which any man, or any body of men, has a right to set up and exercise for his own emolument, but is altogether a trust, in right of those by whom that trust is delegated, and by whom it is always resumeable. it has of itself no rights; they are altogether duties. having thus given two instances of the original formation of a constitution, i will show the manner in which both have been changed since their first establishment. the powers vested in the governments of the several states, by the state constitutions, were found, upon experience, to be too great; and those vested in the federal government, by the act of confederation, too little. the defect was not in the principle, but in the distribution of power. numerous publications, in pamphlets and in the newspapers, appeared, on the propriety and necessity of new modelling the federal government. after some time of public discussion, carried on through the channel of the press, and in conversations, the state of virginia, experiencing some inconvenience with respect to commerce, proposed holding a continental conference; in consequence of which, a deputation from five or six state assemblies met at annapolis, in maryland, in . this meeting, not conceiving itself sufficiently authorised to go into the business of a reform, did no more than state their general opinions of the propriety of the measure, and recommend that a convention of all the states should be held the year following. the convention met at philadelphia in may, , of which general washington was elected president. he was not at that time connected with any of the state governments, or with congress. he delivered up his commission when the war ended, and since then had lived a private citizen. the convention went deeply into all the subjects; and having, after a variety of debate and investigation, agreed among themselves upon the several parts of a federal constitution, the next question was, the manner of giving it authority and practice. for this purpose they did not, like a cabal of courtiers, send for a dutch stadtholder, or a german elector; but they referred the whole matter to the sense and interest of the country. they first directed that the proposed constitution should be published. secondly, that each state should elect a convention, expressly for the purpose of taking it into consideration, and of ratifying or rejecting it; and that as soon as the approbation and ratification of any nine states should be given, that those states shall proceed to the election of their proportion of members to the new federal government; and that the operation of it should then begin, and the former federal government cease. the several states proceeded accordingly to elect their conventions. some of those conventions ratified the constitution by very large majorities, and two or three unanimously. in others there were much debate and division of opinion. in the massachusetts convention, which met at boston, the majority was not above nineteen or twenty, in about three hundred members; but such is the nature of representative government, that it quietly decides all matters by majority. after the debate in the massachusetts convention was closed, and the vote taken, the objecting members rose and declared, "that though they had argued and voted against it, because certain parts appeared to them in a different light to what they appeared to other members; yet, as the vote had decided in favour of the constitution as proposed, they should give it the same practical support as if they had for it." as soon as nine states had concurred (and the rest followed in the order their conventions were elected), the old fabric of the federal government was taken down, and the new one erected, of which general washington is president.--in this place i cannot help remarking, that the character and services of this gentleman are sufficient to put all those men called kings to shame. while they are receiving from the sweat and labours of mankind, a prodigality of pay, to which neither their abilities nor their services can entitle them, he is rendering every service in his power, and refusing every pecuniary reward. he accepted no pay as commander-in-chief; he accepts none as president of the united states. after the new federal constitution was established, the state of pennsylvania, conceiving that some parts of its own constitution required to be altered, elected a convention for that purpose. the proposed alterations were published, and the people concurring therein, they were established. in forming those constitutions, or in altering them, little or no inconvenience took place. the ordinary course of things was not interrupted, and the advantages have been much. it is always the interest of a far greater number of people in a nation to have things right, than to let them remain wrong; and when public matters are open to debate, and the public judgment free, it will not decide wrong, unless it decides too hastily. in the two instances of changing the constitutions, the governments then in being were not actors either way. government has no right to make itself a party in any debate respecting the principles or modes of forming, or of changing, constitutions. it is not for the benefit of those who exercise the powers of government that constitutions, and the governments issuing from them, are established. in all those matters the right of judging and acting are in those who pay, and not in those who receive. a constitution is the property of a nation, and not of those who exercise the government. all the constitutions of america are declared to be established on the authority of the people. in france, the word nation is used instead of the people; but in both cases, a constitution is a thing antecedent to the government, and always distinct there from. in england it is not difficult to perceive that everything has a constitution, except the nation. every society and association that is established, first agreed upon a number of original articles, digested into form, which are its constitution. it then appointed its officers, whose powers and authorities are described in that constitution, and the government of that society then commenced. those officers, by whatever name they are called, have no authority to add to, alter, or abridge the original articles. it is only to the constituting power that this right belongs. from the want of understanding the difference between a constitution and a government, dr. johnson, and all writers of his description, have always bewildered themselves. they could not but perceive, that there must necessarily be a controlling power existing somewhere, and they placed this power in the discretion of the persons exercising the government, instead of placing it in a constitution formed by the nation. when it is in a constitution, it has the nation for its support, and the natural and the political controlling powers are together. the laws which are enacted by governments, control men only as individuals, but the nation, through its constitution, controls the whole government, and has a natural ability to do so. the final controlling power, therefore, and the original constituting power, are one and the same power. dr. johnson could not have advanced such a position in any country where there was a constitution; and he is himself an evidence that no such thing as a constitution exists in england. but it may be put as a question, not improper to be investigated, that if a constitution does not exist, how came the idea of its existence so generally established? in order to decide this question, it is necessary to consider a constitution in both its cases:--first, as creating a government and giving it powers. secondly, as regulating and restraining the powers so given. if we begin with william of normandy, we find that the government of england was originally a tyranny, founded on an invasion and conquest of the country. this being admitted, it will then appear, that the exertion of the nation, at different periods, to abate that tyranny, and render it less intolerable, has been credited for a constitution. magna charta, as it was called (it is now like an almanack of the same date), was no more than compelling the government to renounce a part of its assumptions. it did not create and give powers to government in a manner a constitution does; but was, as far as it went, of the nature of a re-conquest, and not a constitution; for could the nation have totally expelled the usurpation, as france has done its despotism, it would then have had a constitution to form. the history of the edwards and the henries, and up to the commencement of the stuarts, exhibits as many instances of tyranny as could be acted within the limits to which the nation had restricted it. the stuarts endeavoured to pass those limits, and their fate is well known. in all those instances we see nothing of a constitution, but only of restrictions on assumed power. after this, another william, descended from the same stock, and claiming from the same origin, gained possession; and of the two evils, james and william, the nation preferred what it thought the least; since, from circumstances, it must take one. the act, called the bill of rights, comes here into view. what is it, but a bargain, which the parts of the government made with each other to divide powers, profits, and privileges? you shall have so much, and i will have the rest; and with respect to the nation, it said, for your share, you shall have the right of petitioning. this being the case, the bill of rights is more properly a bill of wrongs, and of insult. as to what is called the convention parliament, it was a thing that made itself, and then made the authority by which it acted. a few persons got together, and called themselves by that name. several of them had never been elected, and none of them for the purpose. from the time of william a species of government arose, issuing out of this coalition bill of rights; and more so, since the corruption introduced at the hanover succession by the agency of walpole; that can be described by no other name than a despotic legislation. though the parts may embarrass each other, the whole has no bounds; and the only right it acknowledges out of itself, is the right of petitioning. where then is the constitution either that gives or restrains power? it is not because a part of the government is elective, that makes it less a despotism, if the persons so elected possess afterwards, as a parliament, unlimited powers. election, in this case, becomes separated from representation, and the candidates are candidates for despotism. i cannot believe that any nation, reasoning on its own rights, would have thought of calling these things a constitution, if the cry of constitution had not been set up by the government. it has got into circulation like the words bore and quoz [quiz], by being chalked up in the speeches of parliament, as those words were on window shutters and doorposts; but whatever the constitution may be in other respects, it has undoubtedly been the most productive machine of taxation that was ever invented. the taxes in france, under the new constitution, are not quite thirteen shillings per head,*[ ] and the taxes in england, under what is called its present constitution, are forty-eight shillings and sixpence per head--men, women, and children--amounting to nearly seventeen millions sterling, besides the expense of collecting, which is upwards of a million more. in a country like england, where the whole of the civil government is executed by the people of every town and county, by means of parish officers, magistrates, quarterly sessions, juries, and assize; without any trouble to what is called the government or any other expense to the revenue than the salary of the judges, it is astonishing how such a mass of taxes can be employed. not even the internal defence of the country is paid out of the revenue. on all occasions, whether real or contrived, recourse is continually had to new loans and new taxes. no wonder, then, that a machine of government so advantageous to the advocates of a court, should be so triumphantly extolled! no wonder, that st. james's or st. stephen's should echo with the continual cry of constitution; no wonder, that the french revolution should be reprobated, and the res-publica treated with reproach! the red book of england, like the red book of france, will explain the reason.*[ ] i will now, by way of relaxation, turn a thought or two to mr. burke. i ask his pardon for neglecting him so long. "america," says he (in his speech on the canada constitution bill), "never dreamed of such absurd doctrine as the rights of man." mr. burke is such a bold presumer, and advances his assertions and his premises with such a deficiency of judgment, that, without troubling ourselves about principles of philosophy or politics, the mere logical conclusions they produce, are ridiculous. for instance, if governments, as mr. burke asserts, are not founded on the rights of man, and are founded on any rights at all, they consequently must be founded on the right of something that is not man. what then is that something? generally speaking, we know of no other creatures that inhabit the earth than man and beast; and in all cases, where only two things offer themselves, and one must be admitted, a negation proved on any one, amounts to an affirmative on the other; and therefore, mr. burke, by proving against the rights of man, proves in behalf of the beast; and consequently, proves that government is a beast; and as difficult things sometimes explain each other, we now see the origin of keeping wild beasts in the tower; for they certainly can be of no other use than to show the origin of the government. they are in the place of a constitution. o john bull, what honours thou hast lost by not being a wild beast. thou mightest, on mr. burke's system, have been in the tower for life. if mr. burke's arguments have not weight enough to keep one serious, the fault is less mine than his; and as i am willing to make an apology to the reader for the liberty i have taken, i hope mr. burke will also make his for giving the cause. having thus paid mr. burke the compliment of remembering him, i return to the subject. from the want of a constitution in england to restrain and regulate the wild impulse of power, many of the laws are irrational and tyrannical, and the administration of them vague and problematical. the attention of the government of england (for i rather choose to call it by this name than the english government) appears, since its political connection with germany, to have been so completely engrossed and absorbed by foreign affairs, and the means of raising taxes, that it seems to exist for no other purposes. domestic concerns are neglected; and with respect to regular law, there is scarcely such a thing. almost every case must now be determined by some precedent, be that precedent good or bad, or whether it properly applies or not; and the practice is become so general as to suggest a suspicion, that it proceeds from a deeper policy than at first sight appears. since the revolution of america, and more so since that of france, this preaching up the doctrines of precedents, drawn from times and circumstances antecedent to those events, has been the studied practice of the english government. the generality of those precedents are founded on principles and opinions, the reverse of what they ought; and the greater distance of time they are drawn from, the more they are to be suspected. but by associating those precedents with a superstitious reverence for ancient things, as monks show relics and call them holy, the generality of mankind are deceived into the design. governments now act as if they were afraid to awaken a single reflection in man. they are softly leading him to the sepulchre of precedents, to deaden his faculties and call attention from the scene of revolutions. they feel that he is arriving at knowledge faster than they wish, and their policy of precedents is the barometer of their fears. this political popery, like the ecclesiastical popery of old, has had its day, and is hastening to its exit. the ragged relic and the antiquated precedent, the monk and the monarch, will moulder together. government by precedent, without any regard to the principle of the precedent, is one of the vilest systems that can be set up. in numerous instances, the precedent ought to operate as a warning, and not as an example, and requires to be shunned instead of imitated; but instead of this, precedents are taken in the lump, and put at once for constitution and for law. either the doctrine of precedents is policy to keep a man in a state of ignorance, or it is a practical confession that wisdom degenerates in governments as governments increase in age, and can only hobble along by the stilts and crutches of precedents. how is it that the same persons who would proudly be thought wiser than their predecessors, appear at the same time only as the ghosts of departed wisdom? how strangely is antiquity treated! to some purposes it is spoken of as the times of darkness and ignorance, and to answer others, it is put for the light of the world. if the doctrine of precedents is to be followed, the expenses of government need not continue the same. why pay men extravagantly, who have but little to do? if everything that can happen is already in precedent, legislation is at an end, and precedent, like a dictionary, determines every case. either, therefore, government has arrived at its dotage, and requires to be renovated, or all the occasions for exercising its wisdom have occurred. we now see all over europe, and particularly in england, the curious phenomenon of a nation looking one way, and the government the other--the one forward and the other backward. if governments are to go on by precedent, while nations go on by improvement, they must at last come to a final separation; and the sooner, and the more civilly they determine this point, the better.*[ ] having thus spoken of constitutions generally, as things distinct from actual governments, let us proceed to consider the parts of which a constitution is composed. opinions differ more on this subject than with respect to the whole. that a nation ought to have a constitution, as a rule for the conduct of its government, is a simple question in which all men, not directly courtiers, will agree. it is only on the component parts that questions and opinions multiply. but this difficulty, like every other, will diminish when put into a train of being rightly understood. the first thing is, that a nation has a right to establish a constitution. whether it exercises this right in the most judicious manner at first is quite another case. it exercises it agreeably to the judgment it possesses; and by continuing to do so, all errors will at last be exploded. when this right is established in a nation, there is no fear that it will be employed to its own injury. a nation can have no interest in being wrong. though all the constitutions of america are on one general principle, yet no two of them are exactly alike in their component parts, or in the distribution of the powers which they give to the actual governments. some are more, and others less complex. in forming a constitution, it is first necessary to consider what are the ends for which government is necessary? secondly, what are the best means, and the least expensive, for accomplishing those ends? government is nothing more than a national association; and the object of this association is the good of all, as well individually as collectively. every man wishes to pursue his occupation, and to enjoy the fruits of his labours and the produce of his property in peace and safety, and with the least possible expense. when these things are accomplished, all the objects for which government ought to be established are answered. it has been customary to consider government under three distinct general heads. the legislative, the executive, and the judicial. but if we permit our judgment to act unincumbered by the habit of multiplied terms, we can perceive no more than two divisions of power, of which civil government is composed, namely, that of legislating or enacting laws, and that of executing or administering them. everything, therefore, appertaining to civil government, classes itself under one or other of these two divisions. so far as regards the execution of the laws, that which is called the judicial power, is strictly and properly the executive power of every country. it is that power to which every individual has appeal, and which causes the laws to be executed; neither have we any other clear idea with respect to the official execution of the laws. in england, and also in america and france, this power begins with the magistrate, and proceeds up through all the courts of judicature. i leave to courtiers to explain what is meant by calling monarchy the executive power. it is merely a name in which acts of government are done; and any other, or none at all, would answer the same purpose. laws have neither more nor less authority on this account. it must be from the justness of their principles, and the interest which a nation feels therein, that they derive support; if they require any other than this, it is a sign that something in the system of government is imperfect. laws difficult to be executed cannot be generally good. with respect to the organization of the legislative power, different modes have been adopted in different countries. in america it is generally composed of two houses. in france it consists but of one, but in both countries, it is wholly by representation. the case is, that mankind (from the long tyranny of assumed power) have had so few opportunities of making the necessary trials on modes and principles of government, in order to discover the best, that government is but now beginning to be known, and experience is yet wanting to determine many particulars. the objections against two houses are, first, that there is an inconsistency in any part of a whole legislature, coming to a final determination by vote on any matter, whilst that matter, with respect to that whole, is yet only in a train of deliberation, and consequently open to new illustrations. secondly, that by taking the vote on each, as a separate body, it always admits of the possibility, and is often the case in practice, that the minority governs the majority, and that, in some instances, to a degree of great inconsistency. thirdly, that two houses arbitrarily checking or controlling each other is inconsistent; because it cannot be proved on the principles of just representation, that either should be wiser or better than the other. they may check in the wrong as well as in the right therefore to give the power where we cannot give the wisdom to use it, nor be assured of its being rightly used, renders the hazard at least equal to the precaution.*[ ] the objection against a single house is, that it is always in a condition of committing itself too soon.--but it should at the same time be remembered, that when there is a constitution which defines the power, and establishes the principles within which a legislature shall act, there is already a more effectual check provided, and more powerfully operating, than any other check can be. for example, were a bill to be brought into any of the american legislatures similar to that which was passed into an act by the english parliament, at the commencement of george the first, to extend the duration of the assemblies to a longer period than they now sit, the check is in the constitution, which in effect says, thus far shalt thou go and no further. but in order to remove the objection against a single house (that of acting with too quick an impulse), and at the same time to avoid the inconsistencies, in some cases absurdities, arising from two houses, the following method has been proposed as an improvement upon both. first, to have but one representation. secondly, to divide that representation, by lot, into two or three parts. thirdly, that every proposed bill shall be first debated in those parts by succession, that they may become the hearers of each other, but without taking any vote. after which the whole representation to assemble for a general debate and determination by vote. to this proposed improvement has been added another, for the purpose of keeping the representation in the state of constant renovation; which is, that one-third of the representation of each county, shall go out at the expiration of one year, and the number be replaced by new elections. another third at the expiration of the second year replaced in like manner, and every third year to be a general election.*[ ] but in whatever manner the separate parts of a constitution may be arranged, there is one general principle that distinguishes freedom from slavery, which is, that all hereditary government over a people is to them a species of slavery, and representative government is freedom. considering government in the only light in which it should be considered, that of a national association, it ought to be so constructed as not to be disordered by any accident happening among the parts; and, therefore, no extraordinary power, capable of producing such an effect, should be lodged in the hands of any individual. the death, sickness, absence or defection, of any one individual in a government, ought to be a matter of no more consequence, with respect to the nation, than if the same circumstance had taken place in a member of the english parliament, or the french national assembly. scarcely anything presents a more degrading character of national greatness, than its being thrown into confusion, by anything happening to or acted by any individual; and the ridiculousness of the scene is often increased by the natural insignificance of the person by whom it is occasioned. were a government so constructed, that it could not go on unless a goose or a gander were present in the senate, the difficulties would be just as great and as real, on the flight or sickness of the goose, or the gander, as if it were called a king. we laugh at individuals for the silly difficulties they make to themselves, without perceiving that the greatest of all ridiculous things are acted in governments.*[ ] all the constitutions of america are on a plan that excludes the childish embarrassments which occur in monarchical countries. no suspension of government can there take place for a moment, from any circumstances whatever. the system of representation provides for everything, and is the only system in which nations and governments can always appear in their proper character. as extraordinary power ought not to be lodged in the hands of any individual, so ought there to be no appropriations of public money to any person, beyond what his services in a state may be worth. it signifies not whether a man be called a president, a king, an emperor, a senator, or by any other name which propriety or folly may devise or arrogance assume; it is only a certain service he can perform in the state; and the service of any such individual in the routine of office, whether such office be called monarchical, presidential, senatorial, or by any other name or title, can never exceed the value of ten thousand pounds a year. all the great services that are done in the world are performed by volunteer characters, who accept nothing for them; but the routine of office is always regulated to such a general standard of abilities as to be within the compass of numbers in every country to perform, and therefore cannot merit very extraordinary recompense. government, says swift, is a plain thing, and fitted to the capacity of many heads. it is inhuman to talk of a million sterling a year, paid out of the public taxes of any country, for the support of any individual, whilst thousands who are forced to contribute thereto, are pining with want, and struggling with misery. government does not consist in a contrast between prisons and palaces, between poverty and pomp; it is not instituted to rob the needy of his mite, and increase the wretchedness of the wretched.--but on this part of the subject i shall speak hereafter, and confine myself at present to political observations. when extraordinary power and extraordinary pay are allotted to any individual in a government, he becomes the center, round which every kind of corruption generates and forms. give to any man a million a year, and add thereto the power of creating and disposing of places, at the expense of a country, and the liberties of that country are no longer secure. what is called the splendour of a throne is no other than the corruption of the state. it is made up of a band of parasites, living in luxurious indolence, out of the public taxes. when once such a vicious system is established it becomes the guard and protection of all inferior abuses. the man who is in the receipt of a million a year is the last person to promote a spirit of reform, lest, in the event, it should reach to himself. it is always his interest to defend inferior abuses, as so many outworks to protect the citadel; and on this species of political fortification, all the parts have such a common dependence that it is never to be expected they will attack each other.*[ ] monarchy would not have continued so many ages in the world, had it not been for the abuses it protects. it is the master-fraud, which shelters all others. by admitting a participation of the spoil, it makes itself friends; and when it ceases to do this it will cease to be the idol of courtiers. as the principle on which constitutions are now formed rejects all hereditary pretensions to government, it also rejects all that catalogue of assumptions known by the name of prerogatives. if there is any government where prerogatives might with apparent safety be entrusted to any individual, it is in the federal government of america. the president of the united states of america is elected only for four years. he is not only responsible in the general sense of the word, but a particular mode is laid down in the constitution for trying him. he cannot be elected under thirty-five years of age; and he must be a native of the country. in a comparison of these cases with the government of england, the difference when applied to the latter amounts to an absurdity. in england the person who exercises prerogative is often a foreigner; always half a foreigner, and always married to a foreigner. he is never in full natural or political connection with the country, is not responsible for anything, and becomes of age at eighteen years; yet such a person is permitted to form foreign alliances, without even the knowledge of the nation, and to make war and peace without its consent. but this is not all. though such a person cannot dispose of the government in the manner of a testator, he dictates the marriage connections, which, in effect, accomplish a great part of the same end. he cannot directly bequeath half the government to prussia, but he can form a marriage partnership that will produce almost the same thing. under such circumstances, it is happy for england that she is not situated on the continent, or she might, like holland, fall under the dictatorship of prussia. holland, by marriage, is as effectually governed by prussia, as if the old tyranny of bequeathing the government had been the means. the presidency in america (or, as it is sometimes called, the executive) is the only office from which a foreigner is excluded, and in england it is the only one to which he is admitted. a foreigner cannot be a member of parliament, but he may be what is called a king. if there is any reason for excluding foreigners, it ought to be from those offices where mischief can most be acted, and where, by uniting every bias of interest and attachment, the trust is best secured. but as nations proceed in the great business of forming constitutions, they will examine with more precision into the nature and business of that department which is called the executive. what the legislative and judicial departments are every one can see; but with respect to what, in europe, is called the executive, as distinct from those two, it is either a political superfluity or a chaos of unknown things. some kind of official department, to which reports shall be made from the different parts of a nation, or from abroad, to be laid before the national representatives, is all that is necessary; but there is no consistency in calling this the executive; neither can it be considered in any other light than as inferior to the legislative. the sovereign authority in any country is the power of making laws, and everything else is an official department. next to the arrangement of the principles and the organization of the several parts of a constitution, is the provision to be made for the support of the persons to whom the nation shall confide the administration of the constitutional powers. a nation can have no right to the time and services of any person at his own expense, whom it may choose to employ or entrust in any department whatever; neither can any reason be given for making provision for the support of any one part of a government and not for the other. but admitting that the honour of being entrusted with any part of a government is to be considered a sufficient reward, it ought to be so to every person alike. if the members of the legislature of any country are to serve at their own expense that which is called the executive, whether monarchical or by any other name, ought to serve in like manner. it is inconsistent to pay the one, and accept the service of the other gratis. in america, every department in the government is decently provided for; but no one is extravagantly paid. every member of congress, and of the assemblies, is allowed a sufficiency for his expenses. whereas in england, a most prodigal provision is made for the support of one part of the government, and none for the other, the consequence of which is that the one is furnished with the means of corruption and the other is put into the condition of being corrupted. less than a fourth part of such expense, applied as it is in america, would remedy a great part of the corruption. another reform in the american constitution is the exploding all oaths of personality. the oath of allegiance in america is to the nation only. the putting any individual as a figure for a nation is improper. the happiness of a nation is the superior object, and therefore the intention of an oath of allegiance ought not to be obscured by being figuratively taken, to, or in the name of, any person. the oath, called the civic oath, in france, viz., "the nation, the law, and the king," is improper. if taken at all, it ought to be as in america, to the nation only. the law may or may not be good; but, in this place, it can have no other meaning, than as being conducive to the happiness of a nation, and therefore is included in it. the remainder of the oath is improper, on the ground, that all personal oaths ought to be abolished. they are the remains of tyranny on one part and slavery on the other; and the name of the creator ought not to be introduced to witness the degradation of his creation; or if taken, as is already mentioned, as figurative of the nation, it is in this place redundant. but whatever apology may be made for oaths at the first establishment of a government, they ought not to be permitted afterwards. if a government requires the support of oaths, it is a sign that it is not worth supporting, and ought not to be supported. make government what it ought to be, and it will support itself. to conclude this part of the subject:--one of the greatest improvements that have been made for the perpetual security and progress of constitutional liberty, is the provision which the new constitutions make for occasionally revising, altering, and amending them. the principle upon which mr. burke formed his political creed, that of "binding and controlling posterity to the end of time, and of renouncing and abdicating the rights of all posterity, for ever," is now become too detestable to be made a subject of debate; and therefore, i pass it over with no other notice than exposing it. government is but now beginning to be known. hitherto it has been the mere exercise of power, which forbade all effectual enquiry into rights, and grounded itself wholly on possession. while the enemy of liberty was its judge, the progress of its principles must have been small indeed. the constitutions of america, and also that of france, have either affixed a period for their revision, or laid down the mode by which improvement shall be made. it is perhaps impossible to establish anything that combines principles with opinions and practice, which the progress of circumstances, through a length of years, will not in some measure derange, or render inconsistent; and, therefore, to prevent inconveniences accumulating, till they discourage reformations or provoke revolutions, it is best to provide the means of regulating them as they occur. the rights of man are the rights of all generations of men, and cannot be monopolised by any. that which is worth following, will be followed for the sake of its worth, and it is in this that its security lies, and not in any conditions with which it may be encumbered. when a man leaves property to his heirs, he does not connect it with an obligation that they shall accept it. why, then, should we do otherwise with respect to constitutions? the best constitution that could now be devised, consistent with the condition of the present moment, may be far short of that excellence which a few years may afford. there is a morning of reason rising upon man on the subject of government, that has not appeared before. as the barbarism of the present old governments expires, the moral conditions of nations with respect to each other will be changed. man will not be brought up with the savage idea of considering his species as his enemy, because the accident of birth gave the individuals existence in countries distinguished by different names; and as constitutions have always some relation to external as well as to domestic circumstances, the means of benefitting by every change, foreign or domestic, should be a part of every constitution. we already see an alteration in the national disposition of england and france towards each other, which, when we look back to only a few years, is itself a revolution. who could have foreseen, or who could have believed, that a french national assembly would ever have been a popular toast in england, or that a friendly alliance of the two nations should become the wish of either? it shows that man, were he not corrupted by governments, is naturally the friend of man, and that human nature is not of itself vicious. that spirit of jealousy and ferocity, which the governments of the two countries inspired, and which they rendered subservient to the purpose of taxation, is now yielding to the dictates of reason, interest, and humanity. the trade of courts is beginning to be understood, and the affectation of mystery, with all the artificial sorcery by which they imposed upon mankind, is on the decline. it has received its death-wound; and though it may linger, it will expire. government ought to be as much open to improvement as anything which appertains to man, instead of which it has been monopolised from age to age, by the most ignorant and vicious of the human race. need we any other proof of their wretched management, than the excess of debts and taxes with which every nation groans, and the quarrels into which they have precipitated the world? just emerging from such a barbarous condition, it is too soon to determine to what extent of improvement government may yet be carried. for what we can foresee, all europe may form but one great republic, and man be free of the whole. chapter v. ways and means of improving the condition of europe interspersed with miscellaneous observations in contemplating a subject that embraces with equatorial magnitude the whole region of humanity it is impossible to confine the pursuit in one single direction. it takes ground on every character and condition that appertains to man, and blends the individual, the nation, and the world. from a small spark, kindled in america, a flame has arisen not to be extinguished. without consuming, like the ultima ratio regum, it winds its progress from nation to nation, and conquers by a silent operation. man finds himself changed, he scarcely perceives how. he acquires a knowledge of his rights by attending justly to his interest, and discovers in the event that the strength and powers of despotism consist wholly in the fear of resisting it, and that, in order "to be free, it is sufficient that he wills it." having in all the preceding parts of this work endeavoured to establish a system of principles as a basis on which governments ought to be erected, i shall proceed in this, to the ways and means of rendering them into practice. but in order to introduce this part of the subject with more propriety, and stronger effect, some preliminary observations, deducible from, or connected with, those principles, are necessary. whatever the form or constitution of government may be, it ought to have no other object than the general happiness. when, instead of this, it operates to create and increase wretchedness in any of the parts of society, it is on a wrong system, and reformation is necessary. customary language has classed the condition of man under the two descriptions of civilised and uncivilised life. to the one it has ascribed felicity and affluence; to the other hardship and want. but, however our imagination may be impressed by painting and comparison, it is nevertheless true, that a great portion of mankind, in what are called civilised countries, are in a state of poverty and wretchedness, far below the condition of an indian. i speak not of one country, but of all. it is so in england, it is so all over europe. let us enquire into the cause. it lies not in any natural defect in the principles of civilisation, but in preventing those principles having a universal operation; the consequence of which is, a perpetual system of war and expense, that drains the country, and defeats the general felicity of which civilisation is capable. all the european governments (france now excepted) are constructed not on the principle of universal civilisation, but on the reverse of it. so far as those governments relate to each other, they are in the same condition as we conceive of savage uncivilised life; they put themselves beyond the law as well of god as of man, and are, with respect to principle and reciprocal conduct, like so many individuals in a state of nature. the inhabitants of every country, under the civilisation of laws, easily civilise together, but governments being yet in an uncivilised state, and almost continually at war, they pervert the abundance which civilised life produces to carry on the uncivilised part to a greater extent. by thus engrafting the barbarism of government upon the internal civilisation of a country, it draws from the latter, and more especially from the poor, a great portion of those earnings, which should be applied to their own subsistence and comfort. apart from all reflections of morality and philosophy, it is a melancholy fact that more than one-fourth of the labour of mankind is annually consumed by this barbarous system. what has served to continue this evil, is the pecuniary advantage which all the governments of europe have found in keeping up this state of uncivilisation. it affords to them pretences for power, and revenue, for which there would be neither occasion nor apology, if the circle of civilisation were rendered complete. civil government alone, or the government of laws, is not productive of pretences for many taxes; it operates at home, directly under the eye of the country, and precludes the possibility of much imposition. but when the scene is laid in the uncivilised contention of governments, the field of pretences is enlarged, and the country, being no longer a judge, is open to every imposition, which governments please to act. not a thirtieth, scarcely a fortieth, part of the taxes which are raised in england are either occasioned by, or applied to, the purpose of civil government. it is not difficult to see, that the whole which the actual government does in this respect, is to enact laws, and that the country administers and executes them, at its own expense, by means of magistrates, juries, sessions, and assize, over and above the taxes which it pays. in this view of the case, we have two distinct characters of government; the one the civil government, or the government of laws, which operates at home, the other the court or cabinet government, which operates abroad, on the rude plan of uncivilised life; the one attended with little charge, the other with boundless extravagance; and so distinct are the two, that if the latter were to sink, as it were, by a sudden opening of the earth, and totally disappear, the former would not be deranged. it would still proceed, because it is the common interest of the nation that it should, and all the means are in practice. revolutions, then, have for their object a change in the moral condition of governments, and with this change the burthen of public taxes will lessen, and civilisation will be left to the enjoyment of that abundance, of which it is now deprived. in contemplating the whole of this subject, i extend my views into the department of commerce. in all my publications, where the matter would admit, i have been an advocate for commerce, because i am a friend to its effects. it is a pacific system, operating to cordialise mankind, by rendering nations, as well as individuals, useful to each other. as to the mere theoretical reformation, i have never preached it up. the most effectual process is that of improving the condition of man by means of his interest; and it is on this ground that i take my stand. if commerce were permitted to act to the universal extent it is capable, it would extirpate the system of war, and produce a revolution in the uncivilised state of governments. the invention of commerce has arisen since those governments began, and is the greatest approach towards universal civilisation that has yet been made by any means not immediately flowing from moral principles. whatever has a tendency to promote the civil intercourse of nations by an exchange of benefits, is a subject as worthy of philosophy as of politics. commerce is no other than the traffic of two individuals, multiplied on a scale of numbers; and by the same rule that nature intended for the intercourse of two, she intended that of all. for this purpose she has distributed the materials of manufactures and commerce, in various and distant parts of a nation and of the world; and as they cannot be procured by war so cheaply or so commodiously as by commerce, she has rendered the latter the means of extirpating the former. as the two are nearly the opposite of each other, consequently, the uncivilised state of the european governments is injurious to commerce. every kind of destruction or embarrassment serves to lessen the quantity, and it matters but little in what part of the commercial world the reduction begins. like blood, it cannot be taken from any of the parts, without being taken from the whole mass in circulation, and all partake of the loss. when the ability in any nation to buy is destroyed, it equally involves the seller. could the government of england destroy the commerce of all other nations, she would most effectually ruin her own. it is possible that a nation may be the carrier for the world, but she cannot be the merchant. she cannot be the seller and buyer of her own merchandise. the ability to buy must reside out of herself; and, therefore, the prosperity of any commercial nation is regulated by the prosperity of the rest. if they are poor she cannot be rich, and her condition, be what it may, is an index of the height of the commercial tide in other nations. that the principles of commerce, and its universal operation may be understood, without understanding the practice, is a position that reason will not deny; and it is on this ground only that i argue the subject. it is one thing in the counting-house, in the world it is another. with respect to its operation it must necessarily be contemplated as a reciprocal thing; that only one-half its powers resides within the nation, and that the whole is as effectually destroyed by the destroying the half that resides without, as if the destruction had been committed on that which is within; for neither can act without the other. when in the last, as well as in former wars, the commerce of england sunk, it was because the quantity was lessened everywhere; and it now rises, because commerce is in a rising state in every nation. if england, at this day, imports and exports more than at any former period, the nations with which she trades must necessarily do the same; her imports are their exports, and vice versa. there can be no such thing as a nation flourishing alone in commerce: she can only participate; and the destruction of it in any part must necessarily affect all. when, therefore, governments are at war, the attack is made upon a common stock of commerce, and the consequence is the same as if each had attacked his own. the present increase of commerce is not to be attributed to ministers, or to any political contrivances, but to its own natural operation in consequence of peace. the regular markets had been destroyed, the channels of trade broken up, the high road of the seas infested with robbers of every nation, and the attention of the world called to other objects. those interruptions have ceased, and peace has restored the deranged condition of things to their proper order.*[ ] it is worth remarking that every nation reckons the balance of trade in its own favour; and therefore something must be irregular in the common ideas upon this subject. the fact, however, is true, according to what is called a balance; and it is from this cause that commerce is universally supported. every nation feels the advantage, or it would abandon the practice: but the deception lies in the mode of making up the accounts, and in attributing what are called profits to a wrong cause. mr. pitt has sometimes amused himself, by showing what he called a balance of trade from the custom-house books. this mode of calculating not only affords no rule that is true, but one that is false. in the first place, every cargo that departs from the custom-house appears on the books as an export; and, according to the custom-house balance, the losses at sea, and by foreign failures, are all reckoned on the side of profit because they appear as exports. secondly, because the importation by the smuggling trade does not appear on the custom-house books, to arrange against the exports. no balance, therefore, as applying to superior advantages, can be drawn from these documents; and if we examine the natural operation of commerce, the idea is fallacious; and if true, would soon be injurious. the great support of commerce consists in the balance being a level of benefits among all nations. two merchants of different nations trading together, will both become rich, and each makes the balance in his own favour; consequently, they do not get rich of each other; and it is the same with respect to the nations in which they reside. the case must be, that each nation must get rich out of its own means, and increases that riches by something which it procures from another in exchange. if a merchant in england sends an article of english manufacture abroad which costs him a shilling at home, and imports something which sells for two, he makes a balance of one shilling in his favour; but this is not gained out of the foreign nation or the foreign merchant, for he also does the same by the articles he receives, and neither has the advantage upon the other. the original value of the two articles in their proper countries was but two shillings; but by changing their places, they acquire a new idea of value, equal to double what they had first, and that increased value is equally divided. there is no otherwise a balance on foreign than on domestic commerce. the merchants of london and newcastle trade on the same principles, as if they resided in different nations, and make their balances in the same manner: yet london does not get rich out of newcastle, any more than newcastle out of london: but coals, the merchandize of newcastle, have an additional value at london, and london merchandize has the same at newcastle. though the principle of all commerce is the same, the domestic, in a national view, is the part the most beneficial; because the whole of the advantages, an both sides, rests within the nation; whereas, in foreign commerce, it is only a participation of one-half. the most unprofitable of all commerce is that connected with foreign dominion. to a few individuals it may be beneficial, merely because it is commerce; but to the nation it is a loss. the expense of maintaining dominion more than absorbs the profits of any trade. it does not increase the general quantity in the world, but operates to lessen it; and as a greater mass would be afloat by relinquishing dominion, the participation without the expense would be more valuable than a greater quantity with it. but it is impossible to engross commerce by dominion; and therefore it is still more fallacious. it cannot exist in confined channels, and necessarily breaks out by regular or irregular means, that defeat the attempt: and to succeed would be still worse. france, since the revolution, has been more indifferent as to foreign possessions, and other nations will become the same when they investigate the subject with respect to commerce. to the expense of dominion is to be added that of navies, and when the amounts of the two are subtracted from the profits of commerce, it will appear, that what is called the balance of trade, even admitting it to exist, is not enjoyed by the nation, but absorbed by the government. the idea of having navies for the protection of commerce is delusive. it is putting means of destruction for the means of protection. commerce needs no other protection than the reciprocal interest which every nation feels in supporting it--it is common stock--it exists by a balance of advantages to all; and the only interruption it meets, is from the present uncivilised state of governments, and which it is its common interest to reform.*[ ] quitting this subject, i now proceed to other matters.--as it is necessary to include england in the prospect of a general reformation, it is proper to inquire into the defects of its government. it is only by each nation reforming its own, that the whole can be improved, and the full benefit of reformation enjoyed. only partial advantages can flow from partial reforms. france and england are the only two countries in europe where a reformation in government could have successfully begun. the one secure by the ocean, and the other by the immensity of its internal strength, could defy the malignancy of foreign despotism. but it is with revolutions as with commerce, the advantages increase by their becoming general, and double to either what each would receive alone. as a new system is now opening to the view of the world, the european courts are plotting to counteract it. alliances, contrary to all former systems, are agitating, and a common interest of courts is forming against the common interest of man. this combination draws a line that runs throughout europe, and presents a cause so entirely new as to exclude all calculations from former circumstances. while despotism warred with despotism, man had no interest in the contest; but in a cause that unites the soldier with the citizen, and nation with nation, the despotism of courts, though it feels the danger and meditates revenge, is afraid to strike. no question has arisen within the records of history that pressed with the importance of the present. it is not whether this or that party shall be in or not, or whig or tory, high or low shall prevail; but whether man shall inherit his rights, and universal civilisation take place? whether the fruits of his labours shall be enjoyed by himself or consumed by the profligacy of governments? whether robbery shall be banished from courts, and wretchedness from countries? when, in countries that are called civilised, we see age going to the workhouse and youth to the gallows, something must be wrong in the system of government. it would seem, by the exterior appearance of such countries, that all was happiness; but there lies hidden from the eye of common observation, a mass of wretchedness, that has scarcely any other chance, than to expire in poverty or infamy. its entrance into life is marked with the presage of its fate; and until this is remedied, it is in vain to punish. civil government does not exist in executions; but in making such provision for the instruction of youth and the support of age, as to exclude, as much as possible, profligacy from the one and despair from the other. instead of this, the resources of a country are lavished upon kings, upon courts, upon hirelings, impostors and prostitutes; and even the poor themselves, with all their wants upon them, are compelled to support the fraud that oppresses them. why is it that scarcely any are executed but the poor? the fact is a proof, among other things, of a wretchedness in their condition. bred up without morals, and cast upon the world without a prospect, they are the exposed sacrifice of vice and legal barbarity. the millions that are superfluously wasted upon governments are more than sufficient to reform those evils, and to benefit the condition of every man in a nation, not included within the purlieus of a court. this i hope to make appear in the progress of this work. it is the nature of compassion to associate with misfortune. in taking up this subject i seek no recompense--i fear no consequence. fortified with that proud integrity, that disdains to triumph or to yield, i will advocate the rights of man. it is to my advantage that i have served an apprenticeship to life. i know the value of moral instruction, and i have seen the danger of the contrary. at an early period--little more than sixteen years of age, raw and adventurous, and heated with the false heroism of a master*[ ] who had served in a man-of-war--i began the carver of my own fortune, and entered on board the terrible privateer, captain death. from this adventure i was happily prevented by the affectionate and moral remonstrance of a good father, who, from his own habits of life, being of the quaker profession, must begin to look upon me as lost. but the impression, much as it effected at the time, began to wear away, and i entered afterwards in the king of prussia privateer, captain mendez, and went with her to sea. yet, from such a beginning, and with all the inconvenience of early life against me, i am proud to say, that with a perseverance undismayed by difficulties, a disinterestedness that compelled respect, i have not only contributed to raise a new empire in the world, founded on a new system of government, but i have arrived at an eminence in political literature, the most difficult of all lines to succeed and excel in, which aristocracy with all its aids has not been able to reach or to rival.*[ ] knowing my own heart and feeling myself as i now do, superior to all the skirmish of party, the inveteracy of interested or mistaken opponents, i answer not to falsehood or abuse, but proceed to the defects of the english government. i begin with charters and corporations. it is a perversion of terms to say that a charter gives rights. it operates by a contrary effect--that of taking rights away. rights are inherently in all the inhabitants; but charters, by annulling those rights, in the majority, leave the right, by exclusion, in the hands of a few. if charters were constructed so as to express in direct terms, "that every inhabitant, who is not a member of a corporation, shall not exercise the right of voting," such charters would, in the face, be charters not of rights, but of exclusion. the effect is the same under the form they now stand; and the only persons on whom they operate are the persons whom they exclude. those whose rights are guaranteed, by not being taken away, exercise no other rights than as members of the community they are entitled to without a charter; and, therefore, all charters have no other than an indirect negative operation. they do not give rights to a, but they make a difference in favour of a by taking away the right of b, and consequently are instruments of injustice. but charters and corporations have a more extensive evil effect than what relates merely to elections. they are sources of endless contentions in the places where they exist, and they lessen the common rights of national society. a native of england, under the operation of these charters and corporations, cannot be said to be an englishman in the full sense of the word. he is not free of the nation, in the same manner that a frenchman is free of france, and an american of america. his rights are circumscribed to the town, and, in some cases, to the parish of his birth; and all other parts, though in his native land, are to him as a foreign country. to acquire a residence in these, he must undergo a local naturalisation by purchase, or he is forbidden or expelled the place. this species of feudality is kept up to aggrandise the corporations at the ruin of towns; and the effect is visible. the generality of corporation towns are in a state of solitary decay, and prevented from further ruin only by some circumstance in their situation, such as a navigable river, or a plentiful surrounding country. as population is one of the chief sources of wealth (for without it land itself has no value), everything which operates to prevent it must lessen the value of property; and as corporations have not only this tendency, but directly this effect, they cannot but be injurious. if any policy were to be followed, instead of that of general freedom, to every person to settle where he chose (as in france or america) it would be more consistent to give encouragement to new comers than to preclude their admission by exacting premiums from them.*[ ] the persons most immediately interested in the abolition of corporations are the inhabitants of the towns where corporations are established. the instances of manchester, birmingham, and sheffield show, by contrast, the injuries which those gothic institutions are to property and commerce. a few examples may be found, such as that of london, whose natural and commercial advantage, owing to its situation on the thames, is capable of bearing up against the political evils of a corporation; but in almost all other cases the fatality is too visible to be doubted or denied. though the whole nation is not so directly affected by the depression of property in corporation towns as the inhabitants themselves, it partakes of the consequence. by lessening the value of property, the quantity of national commerce is curtailed. every man is a customer in proportion to his ability; and as all parts of a nation trade with each other, whatever affects any of the parts must necessarily communicate to the whole. as one of the houses of the english parliament is, in a great measure, made up of elections from these corporations; and as it is unnatural that a pure stream should flow from a foul fountain, its vices are but a continuation of the vices of its origin. a man of moral honour and good political principles cannot submit to the mean drudgery and disgraceful arts, by which such elections are carried. to be a successful candidate, he must be destitute of the qualities that constitute a just legislator; and being thus disciplined to corruption by the mode of entering into parliament, it is not to be expected that the representative should be better than the man. mr. burke, in speaking of the english representation, has advanced as bold a challenge as ever was given in the days of chivalry. "our representation," says he, "has been found perfectly adequate to all the purposes for which a representation of the people can be desired or devised." "i defy," continues he, "the enemies of our constitution to show the contrary."--this declaration from a man who has been in constant opposition to all the measures of parliament the whole of his political life, a year or two excepted, is most extraordinary; and, comparing him with himself, admits of no other alternative, than that he acted against his judgment as a member, or has declared contrary to it as an author. but it is not in the representation only that the defects lie, and therefore i proceed in the next place to the aristocracy. what is called the house of peers, is constituted on a ground very similar to that, against which there is no law in other cases. it amounts to a combination of persons in one common interest. no better reason can be given, why a house of legislation should be composed entirely of men whose occupation consists in letting landed property, than why it should be composed of those who hire, or of brewers, or bakers, or any other separate class of men. mr. burke calls this house "the great ground and pillar of security to the landed interest." let us examine this idea. what pillar of security does the landed interest require more than any other interest in the state, or what right has it to a distinct and separate representation from the general interest of a nation? the only use to be made of this power (and which it always has made), is to ward off taxes from itself, and throw the burthen upon those articles of consumption by which itself would be least affected. that this has been the consequence (and will always be the consequence) of constructing governments on combinations, is evident with respect to england, from the history of its taxes. notwithstanding taxes have increased and multiplied upon every article of common consumption, the land-tax, which more particularly affects this "pillar," has diminished. in the amount of the land-tax was l , , , which is half-a-million less than it produced almost a hundred years ago,*[ ] notwithstanding the rentals are in many instances doubled since that period. before the coming of the hanoverians, the taxes were divided in nearly equal proportions between the land and articles of consumption, the land bearing rather the largest share: but since that era nearly thirteen millions annually of new taxes have been thrown upon consumption. the consequence of which has been a constant increase in the number and wretchedness of the poor, and in the amount of the poor-rates. yet here again the burthen does not fall in equal proportions on the aristocracy with the rest of the community. their residences, whether in town or country, are not mixed with the habitations of the poor. they live apart from distress, and the expense of relieving it. it is in manufacturing towns and labouring villages that those burthens press the heaviest; in many of which it is one class of poor supporting another. several of the most heavy and productive taxes are so contrived, as to give an exemption to this pillar, thus standing in its own defence. the tax upon beer brewed for sale does not affect the aristocracy, who brew their own beer free from this duty. it falls only on those who have not conveniency or ability to brew, and who must purchase it in small quantities. but what will mankind think of the justice of taxation, when they know that this tax alone, from which the aristocracy are from circumstances exempt, is nearly equal to the whole of the land-tax, being in the year , and it is not less now, l , , , and with its proportion of the taxes on malt and hops, it exceeds it.--that a single article, thus partially consumed, and that chiefly by the working part, should be subject to a tax, equal to that on the whole rental of a nation, is, perhaps, a fact not to be paralleled in the histories of revenues. this is one of the circumstances resulting from a house of legislation, composed on the ground of a combination of common interest; for whatever their separate politics as to parties may be, in this they are united. whether a combination acts to raise the price of any article for sale, or rate of wages; or whether it acts to throw taxes from itself upon another class of the community, the principle and the effect are the same; and if the one be illegal, it will be difficult to show that the other ought to exist. it is no use to say that taxes are first proposed in the house of commons; for as the other house has always a negative, it can always defend itself; and it would be ridiculous to suppose that its acquiescence in the measures to be proposed were not understood before hand. besides which, it has obtained so much influence by borough-traffic, and so many of its relations and connections are distributed on both sides the commons, as to give it, besides an absolute negative in one house, a preponderancy in the other, in all matters of common concern. it is difficult to discover what is meant by the landed interest, if it does not mean a combination of aristocratical landholders, opposing their own pecuniary interest to that of the farmer, and every branch of trade, commerce, and manufacture. in all other respects it is the only interest that needs no partial protection. it enjoys the general protection of the world. every individual, high or low, is interested in the fruits of the earth; men, women, and children, of all ages and degrees, will turn out to assist the farmer, rather than a harvest should not be got in; and they will not act thus by any other property. it is the only one for which the common prayer of mankind is put up, and the only one that can never fail from the want of means. it is the interest, not of the policy, but of the existence of man, and when it ceases, he must cease to be. no other interest in a nation stands on the same united support. commerce, manufactures, arts, sciences, and everything else, compared with this, are supported but in parts. their prosperity or their decay has not the same universal influence. when the valleys laugh and sing, it is not the farmer only, but all creation that rejoice. it is a prosperity that excludes all envy; and this cannot be said of anything else. why then, does mr. burke talk of his house of peers as the pillar of the landed interest? were that pillar to sink into the earth, the same landed property would continue, and the same ploughing, sowing, and reaping would go on. the aristocracy are not the farmers who work the land, and raise the produce, but are the mere consumers of the rent; and when compared with the active world are the drones, a seraglio of males, who neither collect the honey nor form the hive, but exist only for lazy enjoyment. mr. burke, in his first essay, called aristocracy "the corinthian capital of polished society." towards completing the figure, he has now added the pillar; but still the base is wanting; and whenever a nation choose to act a samson, not blind, but bold, down will go the temple of dagon, the lords and the philistines. if a house of legislation is to be composed of men of one class, for the purpose of protecting a distinct interest, all the other interests should have the same. the inequality, as well as the burthen of taxation, arises from admitting it in one case, and not in all. had there been a house of farmers, there had been no game laws; or a house of merchants and manufacturers, the taxes had neither been so unequal nor so excessive. it is from the power of taxation being in the hands of those who can throw so great a part of it from their own shoulders, that it has raged without a check. men of small or moderate estates are more injured by the taxes being thrown on articles of consumption, than they are eased by warding it from landed property, for the following reasons: first, they consume more of the productive taxable articles, in proportion to their property, than those of large estates. secondly, their residence is chiefly in towns, and their property in houses; and the increase of the poor-rates, occasioned by taxes on consumption, is in much greater proportion than the land-tax has been favoured. in birmingham, the poor-rates are not less than seven shillings in the pound. from this, as is already observed, the aristocracy are in a great measure exempt. these are but a part of the mischiefs flowing from the wretched scheme of an house of peers. as a combination, it can always throw a considerable portion of taxes from itself; and as an hereditary house, accountable to nobody, it resembles a rotten borough, whose consent is to be courted by interest. there are but few of its members, who are not in some mode or other participators, or disposers of the public money. one turns a candle-holder, or a lord in waiting; another a lord of the bed-chamber, a groom of the stole, or any insignificant nominal office to which a salary is annexed, paid out of the public taxes, and which avoids the direct appearance of corruption. such situations are derogatory to the character of man; and where they can be submitted to, honour cannot reside. to all these are to be added the numerous dependants, the long list of younger branches and distant relations, who are to be provided for at the public expense: in short, were an estimation to be made of the charge of aristocracy to a nation, it will be found nearly equal to that of supporting the poor. the duke of richmond alone (and there are cases similar to his) takes away as much for himself as would maintain two thousand poor and aged persons. is it, then, any wonder, that under such a system of government, taxes and rates have multiplied to their present extent? in stating these matters, i speak an open and disinterested language, dictated by no passion but that of humanity. to me, who have not only refused offers, because i thought them improper, but have declined rewards i might with reputation have accepted, it is no wonder that meanness and imposition appear disgustful. independence is my happiness, and i view things as they are, without regard to place or person; my country is the world, and my religion is to do good. mr. burke, in speaking of the aristocratical law of primogeniture, says, "it is the standing law of our landed inheritance; and which, without question, has a tendency, and i think," continues he, "a happy tendency, to preserve a character of weight and consequence." mr. burke may call this law what he pleases, but humanity and impartial reflection will denounce it as a law of brutal injustice. were we not accustomed to the daily practice, and did we only hear of it as the law of some distant part of the world, we should conclude that the legislators of such countries had not arrived at a state of civilisation. as to its preserving a character of weight and consequence, the case appears to me directly the reverse. it is an attaint upon character; a sort of privateering on family property. it may have weight among dependent tenants, but it gives none on a scale of national, and much less of universal character. speaking for myself, my parents were not able to give me a shilling, beyond what they gave me in education; and to do this they distressed themselves: yet, i possess more of what is called consequence, in the world, than any one in mr. burke's catalogue of aristocrats. having thus glanced at some of the defects of the two houses of parliament, i proceed to what is called the crown, upon which i shall be very concise. it signifies a nominal office of a million sterling a year, the business of which consists in receiving the money. whether the person be wise or foolish, sane or insane, a native or a foreigner, matters not. every ministry acts upon the same idea that mr. burke writes, namely, that the people must be hood-winked, and held in superstitious ignorance by some bugbear or other; and what is called the crown answers this purpose, and therefore it answers all the purposes to be expected from it. this is more than can be said of the other two branches. the hazard to which this office is exposed in all countries, is not from anything that can happen to the man, but from what may happen to the nation--the danger of its coming to its senses. it has been customary to call the crown the executive power, and the custom is continued, though the reason has ceased. it was called the executive, because the person whom it signified used, formerly, to act in the character of a judge, in administering or executing the laws. the tribunals were then a part of the court. the power, therefore, which is now called the judicial, is what was called the executive and, consequently, one or other of the terms is redundant, and one of the offices useless. when we speak of the crown now, it means nothing; it signifies neither a judge nor a general: besides which it is the laws that govern, and not the man. the old terms are kept up, to give an appearance of consequence to empty forms; and the only effect they have is that of increasing expenses. before i proceed to the means of rendering governments more conducive to the general happiness of mankind, than they are at present, it will not be improper to take a review of the progress of taxation in england. it is a general idea, that when taxes are once laid on, they are never taken off. however true this may have been of late, it was not always so. either, therefore, the people of former times were more watchful over government than those of the present, or government was administered with less extravagance. it is now seven hundred years since the norman conquest, and the establishment of what is called the crown. taking this portion of time in seven separate periods of one hundred years each, the amount of the annual taxes, at each period, will be as follows: annual taxes levied by william the conqueror, beginning in the year l , annual taxes at years from the conquest ( ) , annual taxes at years from the conquest ( ) , annual taxes at years from the conquest ( ) , annual taxes at years from the conquest ( ) , these statements and those which follow, are taken from sir john sinclair's history of the revenue; by which it appears, that taxes continued decreasing for four hundred years, at the expiration of which time they were reduced three-fourths, viz., from four hundred thousand pounds to one hundred thousand. the people of england of the present day, have a traditionary and historical idea of the bravery of their ancestors; but whatever their virtues or their vices might have been, they certainly were a people who would not be imposed upon, and who kept governments in awe as to taxation, if not as to principle. though they were not able to expel the monarchical usurpation, they restricted it to a republican economy of taxes. let us now review the remaining three hundred years: annual amount of taxes at: years from the conquest ( ) , years from the conquest ( ) , , the present time ( ) , , the difference between the first four hundred years and the last three, is so astonishing, as to warrant an opinion, that the national character of the english has changed. it would have been impossible to have dragooned the former english, into the excess of taxation that now exists; and when it is considered that the pay of the army, the navy, and of all the revenue officers, is the same now as it was about a hundred years ago, when the taxes were not above a tenth part of what they are at present, it appears impossible to account for the enormous increase and expenditure on any other ground, than extravagance, corruption, and intrigue.*[ ] with the revolution of , and more so since the hanover succession, came the destructive system of continental intrigues, and the rage for foreign wars and foreign dominion; systems of such secure mystery that the expenses admit of no accounts; a single line stands for millions. to what excess taxation might have extended had not the french revolution contributed to break up the system, and put an end to pretences, is impossible to say. viewed, as that revolution ought to be, as the fortunate means of lessening the load of taxes of both countries, it is of as much importance to england as to france; and, if properly improved to all the advantages of which it is capable, and to which it leads, deserves as much celebration in one country as the other. in pursuing this subject, i shall begin with the matter that first presents itself, that of lessening the burthen of taxes; and shall then add such matter and propositions, respecting the three countries of england, france, and america, as the present prospect of things appears to justify: i mean, an alliance of the three, for the purposes that will be mentioned in their proper place. what has happened may happen again. by the statement before shown of the progress of taxation, it is seen that taxes have been lessened to a fourth part of what they had formerly been. though the present circumstances do not admit of the same reduction, yet they admit of such a beginning, as may accomplish that end in less time than in the former case. the amount of taxes for the year ending at michaelmas , was as follows: land-tax l , , customs , , excise (including old and new malt) , , stamps , , miscellaneous taxes and incidents , , ----------- l , , since the year , upwards of one million new taxes have been laid on, besides the produce of the lotteries; and as the taxes have in general been more productive since than before, the amount may be taken, in round numbers, at l , , . (the expense of collection and the drawbacks, which together amount to nearly two millions, are paid out of the gross amount; and the above is the net sum paid into the exchequer). this sum of seventeen millions is applied to two different purposes; the one to pay the interest of the national debt, the other to the current expenses of each year. about nine millions are appropriated to the former; and the remainder, being nearly eight millions, to the latter. as to the million, said to be applied to the reduction of the debt, it is so much like paying with one hand and taking out with the other, as not to merit much notice. it happened, fortunately for france, that she possessed national domains for paying off her debt, and thereby lessening her taxes; but as this is not the case with england, her reduction of taxes can only take place by reducing the current expenses, which may now be done to the amount of four or five millions annually, as will hereafter appear. when this is accomplished it will more than counter-balance the enormous charge of the american war; and the saving will be from the same source from whence the evil arose. as to the national debt, however heavy the interest may be in taxes, yet, as it serves to keep alive a capital useful to commerce, it balances by its effects a considerable part of its own weight; and as the quantity of gold and silver is, by some means or other, short of its proper proportion, being not more than twenty millions, whereas it should be sixty (foreign intrigue, foreign wars, foreign dominions, will in a great measure account for the deficiency), it would, besides the injustice, be bad policy to extinguish a capital that serves to supply that defect. but with respect to the current expense, whatever is saved therefrom is gain. the excess may serve to keep corruption alive, but it has no re-action on credit and commerce, like the interest of the debt. it is now very probable that the english government (i do not mean the nation) is unfriendly to the french revolution. whatever serves to expose the intrigue and lessen the influence of courts, by lessening taxation, will be unwelcome to those who feed upon the spoil. whilst the clamour of french intrigue, arbitrary power, popery, and wooden shoes could be kept up, the nation was easily allured and alarmed into taxes. those days are now past: deception, it is to be hoped, has reaped its last harvest, and better times are in prospect for both countries, and for the world. taking it for granted that an alliance may be formed between england, france, and america for the purposes hereafter to be mentioned, the national expenses of france and england may consequently be lessened. the same fleets and armies will no longer be necessary to either, and the reduction can be made ship for ship on each side. but to accomplish these objects the governments must necessarily be fitted to a common and correspondent principle. confidence can never take place while an hostile disposition remains in either, or where mystery and secrecy on one side is opposed to candour and openness on the other. these matters admitted, the national expenses might be put back, for the sake of a precedent, to what they were at some period when france and england were not enemies. this, consequently, must be prior to the hanover succession, and also to the revolution of .*[ ] the first instance that presents itself, antecedent to those dates, is in the very wasteful and profligate times of charles the second; at which time england and france acted as allies. if i have chosen a period of great extravagance, it will serve to show modern extravagance in a still worse light; especially as the pay of the navy, the army, and the revenue officers has not increased since that time. the peace establishment was then as follows (see sir john sinclair's history of the revenue): navy l , army , ordnance , civil list , ------- l , , the parliament, however, settled the whole annual peace establishment at $ , , .*[ ] if we go back to the time of elizabeth the amount of all the taxes was but half a million, yet the nation sees nothing during that period that reproaches it with want of consequence. all circumstances, then, taken together, arising from the french revolution, from the approaching harmony and reciprocal interest of the two nations, the abolition of the court intrigue on both sides, and the progress of knowledge in the science of government, the annual expenditure might be put back to one million and a half, viz.: navy l , army , expenses of government , ---------- l , , even this sum is six times greater than the expenses of government are in america, yet the civil internal government in england (i mean that administered by means of quarter sessions, juries and assize, and which, in fact, is nearly the whole, and performed by the nation), is less expense upon the revenue, than the same species and portion of government is in america. it is time that nations should be rational, and not be governed like animals, for the pleasure of their riders. to read the history of kings, a man would be almost inclined to suppose that government consisted in stag-hunting, and that every nation paid a million a-year to a huntsman. man ought to have pride, or shame enough to blush at being thus imposed upon, and when he feels his proper character he will. upon all subjects of this nature, there is often passing in the mind, a train of ideas he has not yet accustomed himself to encourage and communicate. restrained by something that puts on the character of prudence, he acts the hypocrite upon himself as well as to others. it is, however, curious to observe how soon this spell can be dissolved. a single expression, boldly conceived and uttered, will sometimes put a whole company into their proper feelings: and whole nations are acted on in the same manner. as to the offices of which any civil government may be composed, it matters but little by what names they are described. in the routine of business, as before observed, whether a man be styled a president, a king, an emperor, a senator, or anything else, it is impossible that any service he can perform, can merit from a nation more than ten thousand pounds a year; and as no man should be paid beyond his services, so every man of a proper heart will not accept more. public money ought to be touched with the most scrupulous consciousness of honour. it is not the produce of riches only, but of the hard earnings of labour and poverty. it is drawn even from the bitterness of want and misery. not a beggar passes, or perishes in the streets, whose mite is not in that mass. were it possible that the congress of america could be so lost to their duty, and to the interest of their constituents, as to offer general washington, as president of america, a million a year, he would not, and he could not, accept it. his sense of honour is of another kind. it has cost england almost seventy millions sterling, to maintain a family imported from abroad, of very inferior capacity to thousands in the nation; and scarcely a year has passed that has not produced some new mercenary application. even the physicians' bills have been sent to the public to be paid. no wonder that jails are crowded, and taxes and poor-rates increased. under such systems, nothing is to be looked for but what has already happened; and as to reformation, whenever it come, it must be from the nation, and not from the government. to show that the sum of five hundred thousand pounds is more than sufficient to defray all the expenses of the government, exclusive of navies and armies, the following estimate is added, for any country, of the same extent as england. in the first place, three hundred representatives fairly elected, are sufficient for all the purposes to which legislation can apply, and preferable to a larger number. they may be divided into two or three houses, or meet in one, as in france, or in any manner a constitution shall direct. as representation is always considered, in free countries, as the most honourable of all stations, the allowance made to it is merely to defray the expense which the representatives incur by that service, and not to it as an office. if an allowance, at the rate of five hundred pounds per annum, be made to every representative, deducting for non-attendance, the expense, if the whole number attended for six months, each year, would be l , the official departments cannot reasonably exceed the following number, with the salaries annexed: three offices at ten thousand pounds each l , ten ditto, at five thousand pounds each , twenty ditto, at two thousand pounds each , forty ditto, at one thousand pounds each , two hundred ditto, at five hundred pounds each , three hundred ditto, at two hundred pounds each , five hundred ditto, at one hundred pounds each , seven hundred ditto, at seventy-five pounds each , -------- l , if a nation choose, it can deduct four per cent. from all offices, and make one of twenty thousand per annum. all revenue officers are paid out of the monies they collect, and therefore, are not in this estimation. the foregoing is not offered as an exact detail of offices, but to show the number of rate of salaries which five hundred thousand pounds will support; and it will, on experience, be found impracticable to find business sufficient to justify even this expense. as to the manner in which office business is now performed, the chiefs, in several offices, such as the post-office, and certain offices in the exchequer, etc., do little more than sign their names three or four times a year; and the whole duty is performed by under-clerks. taking, therefore, one million and a half as a sufficient peace establishment for all the honest purposes of government, which is three hundred thousand pounds more than the peace establishment in the profligate and prodigal times of charles the second (notwithstanding, as has been already observed, the pay and salaries of the army, navy, and revenue officers, continue the same as at that period), there will remain a surplus of upwards of six millions out of the present current expenses. the question then will be, how to dispose of this surplus. whoever has observed the manner in which trade and taxes twist themselves together, must be sensible of the impossibility of separating them suddenly. first. because the articles now on hand are already charged with the duty, and the reduction cannot take place on the present stock. secondly. because, on all those articles on which the duty is charged in the gross, such as per barrel, hogshead, hundred weight, or ton, the abolition of the duty does not admit of being divided down so as fully to relieve the consumer, who purchases by the pint, or the pound. the last duty laid on strong beer and ale was three shillings per barrel, which, if taken off, would lessen the purchase only half a farthing per pint, and consequently, would not reach to practical relief. this being the condition of a great part of the taxes, it will be necessary to look for such others as are free from this embarrassment and where the relief will be direct and visible, and capable of immediate operation. in the first place, then, the poor-rates are a direct tax which every house-keeper feels, and who knows also, to a farthing, the sum which he pays. the national amount of the whole of the poor-rates is not positively known, but can be procured. sir john sinclair, in his history of the revenue has stated it at l , , . a considerable part of which is expended in litigations, in which the poor, instead of being relieved, are tormented. the expense, however, is the same to the parish from whatever cause it arises. in birmingham, the amount of poor-rates is fourteen thousand pounds a year. this, though a large sum, is moderate, compared with the population. birmingham is said to contain seventy thousand souls, and on a proportion of seventy thousand to fourteen thousand pounds poor-rates, the national amount of poor-rates, taking the population of england as seven millions, would be but one million four hundred thousand pounds. it is, therefore, most probable, that the population of birmingham is over-rated. fourteen thousand pounds is the proportion upon fifty thousand souls, taking two millions of poor-rates, as the national amount. be it, however, what it may, it is no other than the consequence of excessive burthen of taxes, for, at the time when the taxes were very low, the poor were able to maintain themselves; and there were no poor-rates.*[ ] in the present state of things a labouring man, with a wife or two or three children, does not pay less than between seven and eight pounds a year in taxes. he is not sensible of this, because it is disguised to him in the articles which he buys, and he thinks only of their dearness; but as the taxes take from him, at least, a fourth part of his yearly earnings, he is consequently disabled from providing for a family, especially, if himself, or any of them, are afflicted with sickness. the first step, therefore, of practical relief, would be to abolish the poor-rates entirely, and in lieu thereof, to make a remission of taxes to the poor of double the amount of the present poor-rates, viz., four millions annually out of the surplus taxes. by this measure, the poor would be benefited two millions, and the house-keepers two millions. this alone would be equal to a reduction of one hundred and twenty millions of the national debt, and consequently equal to the whole expense of the american war. it will then remain to be considered, which is the most effectual mode of distributing this remission of four millions. it is easily seen, that the poor are generally composed of large families of children, and old people past their labour. if these two classes are provided for, the remedy will so far reach to the full extent of the case, that what remains will be incidental, and, in a great measure, fall within the compass of benefit clubs, which, though of humble invention, merit to be ranked among the best of modern institutions. admitting england to contain seven millions of souls; if one-fifth thereof are of that class of poor which need support, the number will be one million four hundred thousand. of this number, one hundred and forty thousand will be aged poor, as will be hereafter shown, and for which a distinct provision will be proposed. there will then remain one million two hundred and sixty thousand which, at five souls to each family, amount to two hundred and fifty-two thousand families, rendered poor from the expense of children and the weight of taxes. the number of children under fourteen years of age, in each of those families, will be found to be about five to every two families; some having two, and others three; some one, and others four: some none, and others five; but it rarely happens that more than five are under fourteen years of age, and after this age they are capable of service or of being apprenticed. allowing five children (under fourteen years) to every two families, the number of children will be , the number of parents, were they all living, would be , it is certain, that if the children are provided for, the parents are relieved of consequence, because it is from the expense of bringing up children that their poverty arises. having thus ascertained the greatest number that can be supposed to need support on account of young families, i proceed to the mode of relief or distribution, which is, to pay as a remission of taxes to every poor family, out of the surplus taxes, and in room of poor-rates, four pounds a year for every child under fourteen years of age; enjoining the parents of such children to send them to school, to learn reading, writing, and common arithmetic; the ministers of every parish, of every denomination to certify jointly to an office, for that purpose, that this duty is performed. the amount of this expense will be, for six hundred and thirty thousand children at four pounds per annum each l , , by adopting this method, not only the poverty of the parents will be relieved, but ignorance will be banished from the rising generation, and the number of poor will hereafter become less, because their abilities, by the aid of education, will be greater. many a youth, with good natural genius, who is apprenticed to a mechanical trade, such as a carpenter, joiner, millwright, shipwright, blacksmith, etc., is prevented getting forward the whole of his life from the want of a little common education when a boy. i now proceed to the case of the aged. i divide age into two classes. first, the approach of age, beginning at fifty. secondly, old age commencing at sixty. at fifty, though the mental faculties of man are in full vigour, and his judgment better than at any preceding date, the bodily powers for laborious life are on the decline. he cannot bear the same quantity of fatigue as at an earlier period. he begins to earn less, and is less capable of enduring wind and weather; and in those more retired employments where much sight is required, he fails apace, and sees himself, like an old horse, beginning to be turned adrift. at sixty his labour ought to be over, at least from direct necessity. it is painful to see old age working itself to death, in what are called civilised countries, for daily bread. to form some judgment of the number of those above fifty years of age, i have several times counted the persons i met in the streets of london, men, women, and children, and have generally found that the average is about one in sixteen or seventeen. if it be said that aged persons do not come much into the streets, so neither do infants; and a great proportion of grown children are in schools and in work-shops as apprentices. taking, then, sixteen for a divisor, the whole number of persons in england of fifty years and upwards, of both sexes, rich and poor, will be four hundred and twenty thousand. the persons to be provided for out of this gross number will be husbandmen, common labourers, journeymen of every trade and their wives, sailors, and disbanded soldiers, worn out servants of both sexes, and poor widows. there will be also a considerable number of middling tradesmen, who having lived decently in the former part of life, begin, as age approaches, to lose their business, and at last fall to decay. besides these there will be constantly thrown off from the revolutions of that wheel which no man can stop nor regulate, a number from every class of life connected with commerce and adventure. to provide for all those accidents, and whatever else may befall, i take the number of persons who, at one time or other of their lives, after fifty years of age, may feel it necessary or comfortable to be better supported, than they can support themselves, and that not as a matter of grace and favour, but of right, at one-third of the whole number, which is one hundred and forty thousand, as stated in a previous page, and for whom a distinct provision was proposed to be made. if there be more, society, notwithstanding the show and pomposity of government, is in a deplorable condition in england. of this one hundred and forty thousand, i take one half, seventy thousand, to be of the age of fifty and under sixty, and the other half to be sixty years and upwards. having thus ascertained the probable proportion of the number of aged persons, i proceed to the mode of rendering their condition comfortable, which is: to pay to every such person of the age of fifty years, and until he shall arrive at the age of sixty, the sum of six pounds per annum out of the surplus taxes, and ten pounds per annum during life after the age of sixty. the expense of which will be, seventy thousand persons, at l per annum l , seventy thousand persons, at l per annum , ------- l , , this support, as already remarked, is not of the nature of a charity but of a right. every person in england, male and female, pays on an average in taxes two pounds eight shillings and sixpence per annum from the day of his (or her) birth; and, if the expense of collection be added, he pays two pounds eleven shillings and sixpence; consequently, at the end of fifty years he has paid one hundred and twenty-eight pounds fifteen shillings; and at sixty one hundred and fifty-four pounds ten shillings. converting, therefore, his (or her) individual tax in a tontine, the money he shall receive after fifty years is but little more than the legal interest of the net money he has paid; the rest is made up from those whose circumstances do not require them to draw such support, and the capital in both cases defrays the expenses of government. it is on this ground that i have extended the probable claims to one-third of the number of aged persons in the nation.--is it, then, better that the lives of one hundred and forty thousand aged persons be rendered comfortable, or that a million a year of public money be expended on any one individual, and him often of the most worthless or insignificant character? let reason and justice, let honour and humanity, let even hypocrisy, sycophancy and mr. burke, let george, let louis, leopold, frederic, catherine, cornwallis, or tippoo saib, answer the question.*[ ] the sum thus remitted to the poor will be, to two hundred and fifty-two thousand poor families, containing six hundred and thirty thousand children l , , to one hundred and forty thousand aged persons , , ---------- l , , there will then remain three hundred and sixty thousand pounds out of the four millions, part of which may be applied as follows:-- after all the above cases are provided for there will still be a number of families who, though not properly of the class of poor, yet find it difficult to give education to their children; and such children, under such a case, would be in a worse condition than if their parents were actually poor. a nation under a well-regulated government should permit none to remain uninstructed. it is monarchical and aristocratical government only that requires ignorance for its support. suppose, then, four hundred thousand children to be in this condition, which is a greater number than ought to be supposed after the provisions already made, the method will be: to allow for each of those children ten shillings a year for the expense of schooling for six years each, which will give them six months schooling each year, and half a crown a year for paper and spelling books. the expense of this will be annually l , .*[ ] there will then remain one hundred and ten thousand pounds. notwithstanding the great modes of relief which the best instituted and best principled government may devise, there will be a number of smaller cases, which it is good policy as well as beneficence in a nation to consider. were twenty shillings to be given immediately on the birth of a child, to every woman who should make the demand, and none will make it whose circumstances do not require it, it might relieve a great deal of instant distress. there are about two hundred thousand births yearly in england; and if claimed by one fourth, the amount would be l , and twenty shillings to every new-married couple who should claim in like manner. this would not exceed the sum of l , . also twenty thousand pounds to be appropriated to defray the funeral expenses of persons, who, travelling for work, may die at a distance from their friends. by relieving parishes from this charge, the sick stranger will be better treated. i shall finish this part of the subject with a plan adapted to the particular condition of a metropolis, such as london. cases are continually occurring in a metropolis, different from those which occur in the country, and for which a different, or rather an additional, mode of relief is necessary. in the country, even in large towns, people have a knowledge of each other, and distress never rises to that extreme height it sometimes does in a metropolis. there is no such thing in the country as persons, in the literal sense of the word, starved to death, or dying with cold from the want of a lodging. yet such cases, and others equally as miserable, happen in london. many a youth comes up to london full of expectations, and with little or no money, and unless he get immediate employment he is already half undone; and boys bred up in london without any means of a livelihood, and as it often happens of dissolute parents, are in a still worse condition; and servants long out of place are not much better off. in short, a world of little cases is continually arising, which busy or affluent life knows not of, to open the first door to distress. hunger is not among the postponable wants, and a day, even a few hours, in such a condition is often the crisis of a life of ruin. these circumstances which are the general cause of the little thefts and pilferings that lead to greater, may be prevented. there yet remain twenty thousand pounds out of the four millions of surplus taxes, which with another fund hereafter to be mentioned, amounting to about twenty thousand pounds more, cannot be better applied than to this purpose. the plan will then be: first, to erect two or more buildings, or take some already erected, capable of containing at least six thousand persons, and to have in each of these places as many kinds of employment as can be contrived, so that every person who shall come may find something which he or she can do. secondly, to receive all who shall come, without enquiring who or what they are. the only condition to be, that for so much, or so many hours' work, each person shall receive so many meals of wholesome food, and a warm lodging, at least as good as a barrack. that a certain portion of what each person's work shall be worth shall be reserved, and given to him or her, on their going away; and that each person shall stay as long or as short a time, or come as often as he choose, on these conditions. if each person stayed three months, it would assist by rotation twenty-four thousand persons annually, though the real number, at all times, would be but six thousand. by establishing an asylum of this kind, such persons to whom temporary distresses occur, would have an opportunity to recruit themselves, and be enabled to look out for better employment. allowing that their labour paid but one half the expense of supporting them, after reserving a portion of their earnings for themselves, the sum of forty thousand pounds additional would defray all other charges for even a greater number than six thousand. the fund very properly convertible to this purpose, in addition to the twenty thousand pounds, remaining of the former fund, will be the produce of the tax upon coals, so iniquitously and wantonly applied to the support of the duke of richmond. it is horrid that any man, more especially at the price coals now are, should live on the distresses of a community; and any government permitting such an abuse, deserves to be dismissed. this fund is said to be about twenty thousand pounds per annum. i shall now conclude this plan with enumerating the several particulars, and then proceed to other matters. the enumeration is as follows:-- first, abolition of two millions poor-rates. secondly, provision for two hundred and fifty thousand poor families. thirdly, education for one million and thirty thousand children. fourthly, comfortable provision for one hundred and forty thousand aged persons. fifthly, donation of twenty shillings each for fifty thousand births. sixthly, donation of twenty shillings each for twenty thousand marriages. seventhly, allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the funeral expenses of persons travelling for work, and dying at a distance from their friends. eighthly, employment, at all times, for the casual poor in the cities of london and westminster. by the operation of this plan, the poor laws, those instruments of civil torture, will be superseded, and the wasteful expense of litigation prevented. the hearts of the humane will not be shocked by ragged and hungry children, and persons of seventy and eighty years of age, begging for bread. the dying poor will not be dragged from place to place to breathe their last, as a reprisal of parish upon parish. widows will have a maintenance for their children, and not be carted away, on the death of their husbands, like culprits and criminals; and children will no longer be considered as increasing the distresses of their parents. the haunts of the wretched will be known, because it will be to their advantage; and the number of petty crimes, the offspring of distress and poverty, will be lessened. the poor, as well as the rich, will then be interested in the support of government, and the cause and apprehension of riots and tumults will cease.--ye who sit in ease, and solace yourselves in plenty, and such there are in turkey and russia, as well as in england, and who say to yourselves, "are we not well off?" have ye thought of these things? when ye do, ye will cease to speak and feel for yourselves alone. the plan is easy in practice. it does not embarrass trade by a sudden interruption in the order of taxes, but effects the relief by changing the application of them; and the money necessary for the purpose can be drawn from the excise collections, which are made eight times a year in every market town in england. having now arranged and concluded this subject, i proceed to the next. taking the present current expenses at seven millions and an half, which is the least amount they are now at, there will remain (after the sum of one million and an half be taken for the new current expenses and four millions for the before-mentioned service) the sum of two millions; part of which to be applied as follows: though fleets and armies, by an alliance with france, will, in a great measure, become useless, yet the persons who have devoted themselves to those services, and have thereby unfitted themselves for other lines of life, are not to be sufferers by the means that make others happy. they are a different description of men from those who form or hang about a court. a part of the army will remain, at least for some years, and also of the navy, for which a provision is already made in the former part of this plan of one million, which is almost half a million more than the peace establishment of the army and navy in the prodigal times of charles the second. suppose, then, fifteen thousand soldiers to be disbanded, and that an allowance be made to each of three shillings a week during life, clear of all deductions, to be paid in the same manner as the chelsea college pensioners are paid, and for them to return to their trades and their friends; and also that an addition of fifteen thousand sixpences per week be made to the pay of the soldiers who shall remain; the annual expenses will be: to the pay of fifteen thousand disbanded soldiers at three shillings per week l , additional pay to the remaining soldiers , suppose that the pay to the officers of the disbanded corps be the same amount as sum allowed to the men , -------- l , to prevent bulky estimations, admit the same sum to the disbanded navy as to the army, and the same increase of pay , -------- total l , every year some part of this sum of half a million (i omit the odd seven thousand pounds for the purpose of keeping the account unembarrassed) will fall in, and the whole of it in time, as it is on the ground of life annuities, except the increased pay of twenty-nine thousand pounds. as it falls in, part of the taxes may be taken off; and as, for instance, when thirty thousand pounds fall in, the duty on hops may be wholly taken off; and as other parts fall in, the duties on candles and soap may be lessened, till at last they will totally cease. there now remains at least one million and a half of surplus taxes. the tax on houses and windows is one of those direct taxes, which, like the poor-rates, is not confounded with trade; and, when taken off, the relief will be instantly felt. this tax falls heavy on the middle class of people. the amount of this tax, by the returns of , was: houses and windows: l s. d. by the act of , by the act be , / ---------------------- total , / if this tax be struck off, there will then remain about one million of surplus taxes; and as it is always proper to keep a sum in reserve, for incidental matters, it may be best not to extend reductions further in the first instance, but to consider what may be accomplished by other modes of reform. among the taxes most heavily felt is the commutation tax. i shall therefore offer a plan for its abolition, by substituting another in its place, which will effect three objects at once: , that of removing the burthen to where it can best be borne; , restoring justice among families by a distribution of property; , extirpating the overgrown influence arising from the unnatural law of primogeniture, which is one of the principal sources of corruption at elections. the amount of commutation tax by the returns of , was l , . when taxes are proposed, the country is amused by the plausible language of taxing luxuries. one thing is called a luxury at one time, and something else at another; but the real luxury does not consist in the article, but in the means of procuring it, and this is always kept out of sight. i know not why any plant or herb of the field should be a greater luxury in one country than another; but an overgrown estate in either is a luxury at all times, and, as such, is the proper object of taxation. it is, therefore, right to take those kind tax-making gentlemen up on their own word, and argue on the principle themselves have laid down, that of taxing luxuries. if they or their champion, mr. burke, who, i fear, is growing out of date, like the man in armour, can prove that an estate of twenty, thirty, or forty thousand pounds a year is not a luxury, i will give up the argument. admitting that any annual sum, say, for instance, one thousand pounds, is necessary or sufficient for the support of a family, consequently the second thousand is of the nature of a luxury, the third still more so, and by proceeding on, we shall at last arrive at a sum that may not improperly be called a prohibitable luxury. it would be impolitic to set bounds to property acquired by industry, and therefore it is right to place the prohibition beyond the probable acquisition to which industry can extend; but there ought to be a limit to property or the accumulation of it by bequest. it should pass in some other line. the richest in every nation have poor relations, and those often very near in consanguinity. the following table of progressive taxation is constructed on the above principles, and as a substitute for the commutation tax. it will reach the point of prohibition by a regular operation, and thereby supersede the aristocratical law of primogeniture. table i a tax on all estates of the clear yearly value of l , after deducting the land tax, and up to l s d per pound from l to l , on the second thousand on the third " on the fourth " on the fifth " on the sixth " on the seventh " on the eighth " on the ninth " s d per pound on the tenth " on the eleventh " on the twelfth " on the thirteenth " on the fourteenth " on the fifteenth " on the sixteenth " on the seventeenth " on the eighteenth " on the nineteenth " on the twentieth " on the twenty-first " on the twenty-second " on the twenty-third " the foregoing table shows the progression per pound on every progressive thousand. the following table shows the amount of the tax on every thousand separately, and in the last column the total amount of all the separate sums collected. table ii an estate of: l per annum at d per pound pays l " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " after l , the tax of d. per pound takes place on the second l ; consequently an estate of l , per annum pays l l, s., and so on. total amount for the st l at s d per pound l s nd " l s nd at rd " (total amount) th at s d per pound l s l s th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " st " (total amount) nd at s d per pound l s l s rd " at the twenty-third thousand the tax becomes s. in the pound, and consequently every thousand beyond that sum can produce no profit but by dividing the estate. yet formidable as this tax appears, it will not, i believe, produce so much as the commutation tax; should it produce more, it ought to be lowered to that amount upon estates under two or three thousand a year. on small and middling estates it is lighter (as it is intended to be) than the commutation tax. it is not till after seven or eight thousand a year that it begins to be heavy. the object is not so much the produce of the tax as the justice of the measure. the aristocracy has screened itself too much, and this serves to restore a part of the lost equilibrium. as an instance of its screening itself, it is only necessary to look back to the first establishment of the excise laws, at what is called the restoration, or the coming of charles the second. the aristocratical interest then in power, commuted the feudal services itself was under, by laying a tax on beer brewed for sale; that is, they compounded with charles for an exemption from those services for themselves and their heirs, by a tax to be paid by other people. the aristocracy do not purchase beer brewed for sale, but brew their own beer free of the duty, and if any commutation at that time were necessary, it ought to have been at the expense of those for whom the exemptions from those services were intended;*[ ] instead of which, it was thrown on an entirely different class of men. but the chief object of this progressive tax (besides the justice of rendering taxes more equal than they are) is, as already stated, to extirpate the overgrown influence arising from the unnatural law of primogeniture, and which is one of the principal sources of corruption at elections. it would be attended with no good consequences to enquire how such vast estates as thirty, forty, or fifty thousand a year could commence, and that at a time when commerce and manufactures were not in a state to admit of such acquisitions. let it be sufficient to remedy the evil by putting them in a condition of descending again to the community by the quiet means of apportioning them among all the heirs and heiresses of those families. this will be the more necessary, because hitherto the aristocracy have quartered their younger children and connections upon the public in useless posts, places and offices, which when abolished will leave them destitute, unless the law of primogeniture be also abolished or superseded. a progressive tax will, in a great measure, effect this object, and that as a matter of interest to the parties most immediately concerned, as will be seen by the following table; which shows the net produce upon every estate, after subtracting the tax. by this it will appear that after an estate exceeds thirteen or fourteen thousand a year, the remainder produces but little profit to the holder, and consequently, will pass either to the younger children, or to other kindred. table iii showing the net produce of every estate from one thousand to twenty-three thousand pounds a year no of thousand total tax per annum subtracted net produce l l l , , , , , (no of thousand (total tax per annum) subtracted) (net produce) , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , n.b. the odd shillings are dropped in this table. according to this table, an estate cannot produce more than l , clear of the land tax and the progressive tax, and therefore the dividing such estates will follow as a matter of family interest. an estate of l , a year, divided into five estates of four thousand each and one of three, will be charged only l , which is but five per cent., but if held by one possessor, will be charged l , . although an enquiry into the origin of those estates be unnecessary, the continuation of them in their present state is another subject. it is a matter of national concern. as hereditary estates, the law has created the evil, and it ought also to provide the remedy. primogeniture ought to be abolished, not only because it is unnatural and unjust, but because the country suffers by its operation. by cutting off (as before observed) the younger children from their proper portion of inheritance, the public is loaded with the expense of maintaining them; and the freedom of elections violated by the overbearing influence which this unjust monopoly of family property produces. nor is this all. it occasions a waste of national property. a considerable part of the land of the country is rendered unproductive, by the great extent of parks and chases which this law serves to keep up, and this at a time when the annual production of grain is not equal to the national consumption.*[ ]--in short, the evils of the aristocratical system are so great and numerous, so inconsistent with every thing that is just, wise, natural, and beneficent, that when they are considered, there ought not to be a doubt that many, who are now classed under that description, will wish to see such a system abolished. what pleasure can they derive from contemplating the exposed condition, and almost certain beggary of their younger offspring? every aristocratical family has an appendage of family beggars hanging round it, which in a few ages, or a few generations, are shook off, and console themselves with telling their tale in almshouses, workhouses, and prisons. this is the natural consequence of aristocracy. the peer and the beggar are often of the same family. one extreme produces the other: to make one rich many must be made poor; neither can the system be supported by other means. there are two classes of people to whom the laws of england are particularly hostile, and those the most helpless; younger children, and the poor. of the former i have just spoken; of the latter i shall mention one instance out of the many that might be produced, and with which i shall close this subject. several laws are in existence for regulating and limiting work-men's wages. why not leave them as free to make their own bargains, as the law-makers are to let their farms and houses? personal labour is all the property they have. why is that little, and the little freedom they enjoy, to be infringed? but the injustice will appear stronger, if we consider the operation and effect of such laws. when wages are fixed by what is called a law, the legal wages remain stationary, while every thing else is in progression; and as those who make that law still continue to lay on new taxes by other laws, they increase the expense of living by one law, and take away the means by another. but if these gentlemen law-makers and tax-makers thought it right to limit the poor pittance which personal labour can produce, and on which a whole family is to be supported, they certainly must feel themselves happily indulged in a limitation on their own part, of not less than twelve thousand a-year, and that of property they never acquired (nor probably any of their ancestors), and of which they have made never acquire so ill a use. having now finished this subject, i shall bring the several particulars into one view, and then proceed to other matters. the first eight articles, mentioned earlier, are; . abolition of two millions poor-rates. . provision for two hundred and fifty-two thousand poor families, at the rate of four pounds per head for each child under fourteen years of age; which, with the addition of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, provides also education for one million and thirty thousand children. . annuity of six pounds (per annum) each for all poor persons, decayed tradesmen, and others (supposed seventy thousand) of the age of fifty years, and until sixty. . annuity of ten pounds each for life for all poor persons, decayed tradesmen, and others (supposed seventy thousand) of the age of sixty years. . donation of twenty shillings each for fifty thousand births. . donation of twenty shillings each for twenty thousand marriages. . allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the funeral expenses of persons travelling for work, and dying at a distance from their friends. . employment at all times for the casual poor in the cities of london and westminster. second enumeration . abolition of the tax on houses and windows. . allowance of three shillings per week for life to fifteen thousand disbanded soldiers, and a proportionate allowance to the officers of the disbanded corps. . increase of pay to the remaining soldiers of l , annually. . the same allowance to the disbanded navy, and the same increase of pay, as to the army. . abolition of the commutation tax. . plan of a progressive tax, operating to extirpate the unjust and unnatural law of primogeniture, and the vicious influence of the aristocratical system.*[ ] there yet remains, as already stated, one million of surplus taxes. some part of this will be required for circumstances that do not immediately present themselves, and such part as shall not be wanted, will admit of a further reduction of taxes equal to that amount. among the claims that justice requires to be made, the condition of the inferior revenue-officers will merit attention. it is a reproach to any government to waste such an immensity of revenue in sinecures and nominal and unnecessary places and officers, and not allow even a decent livelihood to those on whom the labour falls. the salary of the inferior officers of the revenue has stood at the petty pittance of less than fifty pounds a year for upwards of one hundred years. it ought to be seventy. about one hundred and twenty thousand pounds applied to this purpose, will put all those salaries in a decent condition. this was proposed to be done almost twenty years ago, but the treasury-board then in being, startled at it, as it might lead to similar expectations from the army and navy; and the event was, that the king, or somebody for him, applied to parliament to have his own salary raised an hundred thousand pounds a year, which being done, every thing else was laid aside. with respect to another class of men, the inferior clergy, i forbear to enlarge on their condition; but all partialities and prejudices for, or against, different modes and forms of religion aside, common justice will determine, whether there ought to be an income of twenty or thirty pounds a year to one man, and of ten thousand to another. i speak on this subject with the more freedom, because i am known not to be a presbyterian; and therefore the cant cry of court sycophants, about church and meeting, kept up to amuse and bewilder the nation, cannot be raised against me. ye simple men on both sides the question, do you not see through this courtly craft? if ye can be kept disputing and wrangling about church and meeting, ye just answer the purpose of every courtier, who lives the while on the spoils of the taxes, and laughs at your credulity. every religion is good that teaches man to be good; and i know of none that instructs him to be bad. all the before-mentioned calculations suppose only sixteen millions and an half of taxes paid into the exchequer, after the expense of collection and drawbacks at the custom-house and excise-office are deducted; whereas the sum paid into the exchequer is very nearly, if not quite, seventeen millions. the taxes raised in scotland and ireland are expended in those countries, and therefore their savings will come out of their own taxes; but if any part be paid into the english exchequer, it might be remitted. this will not make one hundred thousand pounds a year difference. there now remains only the national debt to be considered. in the year , the interest, exclusive of the tontine, was l , , . how much the capital has been reduced since that time the minister best knows. but after paying the interest, abolishing the tax on houses and windows, the commutation tax, and the poor-rates; and making all the provisions for the poor, for the education of children, the support of the aged, the disbanded part of the army and navy, and increasing the pay of the remainder, there will be a surplus of one million. the present scheme of paying off the national debt appears to me, speaking as an indifferent person, to be an ill-concerted, if not a fallacious job. the burthen of the national debt consists not in its being so many millions, or so many hundred millions, but in the quantity of taxes collected every year to pay the interest. if this quantity continues the same, the burthen of the national debt is the same to all intents and purposes, be the capital more or less. the only knowledge which the public can have of the reduction of the debt, must be through the reduction of taxes for paying the interest. the debt, therefore, is not reduced one farthing to the public by all the millions that have been paid; and it would require more money now to purchase up the capital, than when the scheme began. digressing for a moment at this point, to which i shall return again, i look back to the appointment of mr. pitt, as minister. i was then in america. the war was over; and though resentment had ceased, memory was still alive. when the news of the coalition arrived, though it was a matter of no concern to i felt it as a man. it had something in it which shocked, by publicly sporting with decency, if not with principle. it was impudence in lord north; it was a want of firmness in mr. fox. mr. pitt was, at that time, what may be called a maiden character in politics. so far from being hackneyed, he appeared not to be initiated into the first mysteries of court intrigue. everything was in his favour. resentment against the coalition served as friendship to him, and his ignorance of vice was credited for virtue. with the return of peace, commerce and prosperity would rise of itself; yet even this increase was thrown to his account. when he came to the helm, the storm was over, and he had nothing to interrupt his course. it required even ingenuity to be wrong, and he succeeded. a little time showed him the same sort of man as his predecessors had been. instead of profiting by those errors which had accumulated a burthen of taxes unparalleled in the world, he sought, i might almost say, he advertised for enemies, and provoked means to increase taxation. aiming at something, he knew not what, he ransacked europe and india for adventures, and abandoning the fair pretensions he began with, he became the knight-errant of modern times. it is unpleasant to see character throw itself away. it is more so to see one's-self deceived. mr. pitt had merited nothing, but he promised much. he gave symptoms of a mind superior to the meanness and corruption of courts. his apparent candour encouraged expectations; and the public confidence, stunned, wearied, and confounded by a chaos of parties, revived and attached itself to him. but mistaking, as he has done, the disgust of the nation against the coalition, for merit in himself, he has rushed into measures which a man less supported would not have presumed to act. all this seems to show that change of ministers amounts to nothing. one goes out, another comes in, and still the same measures, vices, and extravagance are pursued. it signifies not who is minister. the defect lies in the system. the foundation and the superstructure of the government is bad. prop it as you please, it continually sinks into court government, and ever will. i return, as i promised, to the subject of the national debt, that offspring of the dutch-anglo revolution, and its handmaid the hanover succession. but it is now too late to enquire how it began. those to whom it is due have advanced the money; and whether it was well or ill spent, or pocketed, is not their crime. it is, however, easy to see, that as the nation proceeds in contemplating the nature and principles of government, and to understand taxes, and make comparisons between those of america, france, and england, it will be next to impossible to keep it in the same torpid state it has hitherto been. some reform must, from the necessity of the case, soon begin. it is not whether these principles press with little or much force in the present moment. they are out. they are abroad in the world, and no force can stop them. like a secret told, they are beyond recall; and he must be blind indeed that does not see that a change is already beginning. nine millions of dead taxes is a serious thing; and this not only for bad, but in a great measure for foreign government. by putting the power of making war into the hands of the foreigners who came for what they could get, little else was to be expected than what has happened. reasons are already advanced in this work, showing that whatever the reforms in the taxes may be, they ought to be made in the current expenses of government, and not in the part applied to the interest of the national debt. by remitting the taxes of the poor, they will be totally relieved, and all discontent will be taken away; and by striking off such of the taxes as are already mentioned, the nation will more than recover the whole expense of the mad american war. there will then remain only the national debt as a subject of discontent; and in order to remove, or rather to prevent this, it would be good policy in the stockholders themselves to consider it as property, subject like all other property, to bear some portion of the taxes. it would give to it both popularity and security, and as a great part of its present inconvenience is balanced by the capital which it keeps alive, a measure of this kind would so far add to that balance as to silence objections. this may be done by such gradual means as to accomplish all that is necessary with the greatest ease and convenience. instead of taxing the capital, the best method would be to tax the interest by some progressive ratio, and to lessen the public taxes in the same proportion as the interest diminished. suppose the interest was taxed one halfpenny in the pound the first year, a penny more the second, and to proceed by a certain ratio to be determined upon, always less than any other tax upon property. such a tax would be subtracted from the interest at the time of payment, without any expense of collection. one halfpenny in the pound would lessen the interest and consequently the taxes, twenty thousand pounds. the tax on wagons amounts to this sum, and this tax might be taken off the first year. the second year the tax on female servants, or some other of the like amount might also be taken off, and by proceeding in this manner, always applying the tax raised from the property of the debt toward its extinction, and not carry it to the current services, it would liberate itself. the stockholders, notwithstanding this tax, would pay less taxes than they do now. what they would save by the extinction of the poor-rates, and the tax on houses and windows, and the commutation tax, would be considerably greater than what this tax, slow, but certain in its operation, amounts to. it appears to me to be prudence to look out for measures that may apply under any circumstances that may approach. there is, at this moment, a crisis in the affairs of europe that requires it. preparation now is wisdom. if taxation be once let loose, it will be difficult to re-instate it; neither would the relief be so effectual, as if it proceeded by some certain and gradual reduction. the fraud, hypocrisy, and imposition of governments, are now beginning to be too well understood to promise them any long career. the farce of monarchy and aristocracy, in all countries, is following that of chivalry, and mr. burke is dressing aristocracy, in all countries, is following that of chivalry, and mr. burke is dressing for the funeral. let it then pass quietly to the tomb of all other follies, and the mourners be comforted. the time is not very distant when england will laugh at itself for sending to holland, hanover, zell, or brunswick for men, at the expense of a million a year, who understood neither her laws, her language, nor her interest, and whose capacities would scarcely have fitted them for the office of a parish constable. if government could be trusted to such hands, it must be some easy and simple thing indeed, and materials fit for all the purposes may be found in every town and village in england. when it shall be said in any country in the world, my poor are happy; neither ignorance nor distress is to be found among them; my jails are empty of prisoners, my streets of beggars; the aged are not in want, the taxes are not oppressive; the rational world is my friend, because i am the friend of its happiness: when these things can be said, then may that country boast its constitution and its government. within the space of a few years we have seen two revolutions, those of america and france. in the former, the contest was long, and the conflict severe; in the latter, the nation acted with such a consolidated impulse, that having no foreign enemy to contend with, the revolution was complete in power the moment it appeared. from both those instances it is evident, that the greatest forces that can be brought into the field of revolutions, are reason and common interest. where these can have the opportunity of acting, opposition dies with fear, or crumbles away by conviction. it is a great standing which they have now universally obtained; and we may hereafter hope to see revolutions, or changes in governments, produced with the same quiet operation by which any measure, determinable by reason and discussion, is accomplished. when a nation changes its opinion and habits of thinking, it is no longer to be governed as before; but it would not only be wrong, but bad policy, to attempt by force what ought to be accomplished by reason. rebellion consists in forcibly opposing the general will of a nation, whether by a party or by a government. there ought, therefore, to be in every nation a method of occasionally ascertaining the state of public opinion with respect to government. on this point the old government of france was superior to the present government of england, because, on extraordinary occasions, recourse could be had what was then called the states general. but in england there are no such occasional bodies; and as to those who are now called representatives, a great part of them are mere machines of the court, placemen, and dependants. i presume, that though all the people of england pay taxes, not an hundredth part of them are electors, and the members of one of the houses of parliament represent nobody but themselves. there is, therefore, no power but the voluntary will of the people that has a right to act in any matter respecting a general reform; and by the same right that two persons can confer on such a subject, a thousand may. the object, in all such preliminary proceedings, is to find out what the general sense of a nation is, and to be governed by it. if it prefer a bad or defective government to a reform or choose to pay ten times more taxes than there is any occasion for, it has a right so to do; and so long as the majority do not impose conditions on the minority, different from what they impose upon themselves, though there may be much error, there is no injustice. neither will the error continue long. reason and discussion will soon bring things right, however wrong they may begin. by such a process no tumult is to be apprehended. the poor, in all countries, are naturally both peaceable and grateful in all reforms in which their interest and happiness is included. it is only by neglecting and rejecting them that they become tumultuous. the objects that now press on the public attention are, the french revolution, and the prospect of a general revolution in governments. of all nations in europe there is none so much interested in the french revolution as england. enemies for ages, and that at a vast expense, and without any national object, the opportunity now presents itself of amicably closing the scene, and joining their efforts to reform the rest of europe. by doing this they will not only prevent the further effusion of blood, and increase of taxes, but be in a condition of getting rid of a considerable part of their present burthens, as has been already stated. long experience however has shown, that reforms of this kind are not those which old governments wish to promote, and therefore it is to nations, and not to such governments, that these matters present themselves. in the preceding part of this work, i have spoken of an alliance between england, france, and america, for purposes that were to be afterwards mentioned. though i have no direct authority on the part of america, i have good reason to conclude, that she is disposed to enter into a consideration of such a measure, provided, that the governments with which she might ally, acted as national governments, and not as courts enveloped in intrigue and mystery. that france as a nation, and a national government, would prefer an alliance with england, is a matter of certainty. nations, like individuals, who have long been enemies, without knowing each other, or knowing why, become the better friends when they discover the errors and impositions under which they had acted. admitting, therefore, the probability of such a connection, i will state some matters by which such an alliance, together with that of holland, might render service, not only to the parties immediately concerned, but to all europe. it is, i think, certain, that if the fleets of england, france, and holland were confederated, they could propose, with effect, a limitation to, and a general dismantling of, all the navies in europe, to a certain proportion to be agreed upon. first, that no new ship of war shall be built by any power in europe, themselves included. second, that all the navies now in existence shall be put back, suppose to one-tenth of their present force. this will save to france and england, at least two millions sterling annually to each, and their relative force be in the same proportion as it is now. if men will permit themselves to think, as rational beings ought to think, nothing can appear more ridiculous and absurd, exclusive of all moral reflections, than to be at the expense of building navies, filling them with men, and then hauling them into the ocean, to try which can sink each other fastest. peace, which costs nothing, is attended with infinitely more advantage, than any victory with all its expense. but this, though it best answers the purpose of nations, does not that of court governments, whose habited policy is pretence for taxation, places, and offices. it is, i think, also certain, that the above confederated powers, together with that of the united states of america, can propose with effect, to spain, the independence of south america, and the opening those countries of immense extent and wealth to the general commerce of the world, as north america now is. with how much more glory, and advantage to itself, does a nation act, when it exerts its powers to rescue the world from bondage, and to create itself friends, than when it employs those powers to increase ruin, desolation, and misery. the horrid scene that is now acting by the english government in the east-indies, is fit only to be told of goths and vandals, who, destitute of principle, robbed and tortured the world they were incapable of enjoying. the opening of south america would produce an immense field of commerce, and a ready money market for manufactures, which the eastern world does not. the east is already a country full of manufactures, the importation of which is not only an injury to the manufactures of england, but a drain upon its specie. the balance against england by this trade is regularly upwards of half a million annually sent out in the east-india ships in silver; and this is the reason, together with german intrigue, and german subsidies, that there is so little silver in england. but any war is harvest to such governments, however ruinous it may be to a nation. it serves to keep up deceitful expectations which prevent people from looking into the defects and abuses of government. it is the lo here! and the lo there! that amuses and cheats the multitude. never did so great an opportunity offer itself to england, and to all europe, as is produced by the two revolutions of america and france. by the former, freedom has a national champion in the western world; and by the latter, in europe. when another nation shall join france, despotism and bad government will scarcely dare to appear. to use a trite expression, the iron is becoming hot all over europe. the insulted german and the enslaved spaniard, the russ and the pole, are beginning to think. the present age will hereafter merit to be called the age of reason, and the present generation will appear to the future as the adam of a new world. when all the governments of europe shall be established on the representative system, nations will become acquainted, and the animosities and prejudices fomented by the intrigue and artifice of courts, will cease. the oppressed soldier will become a freeman; and the tortured sailor, no longer dragged through the streets like a felon, will pursue his mercantile voyage in safety. it would be better that nations should wi continue the pay of their soldiers during their lives, and give them their discharge and restore them to freedom and their friends, and cease recruiting, than retain such multitudes at the same expense, in a condition useless to society and to themselves. as soldiers have hitherto been treated in most countries, they might be said to be without a friend. shunned by the citizen on an apprehension of their being enemies to liberty, and too often insulted by those who commanded them, their condition was a double oppression. but where genuine principles of liberty pervade a people, every thing is restored to order; and the soldier civilly treated, returns the civility. in contemplating revolutions, it is easy to perceive that they may arise from two distinct causes; the one, to avoid or get rid of some great calamity; the other, to obtain some great and positive good; and the two may be distinguished by the names of active and passive revolutions. in those which proceed from the former cause, the temper becomes incensed and soured; and the redress, obtained by danger, is too often sullied by revenge. but in those which proceed from the latter, the heart, rather animated than agitated, enters serenely upon the subject. reason and discussion, persuasion and conviction, become the weapons in the contest, and it is only when those are attempted to be suppressed that recourse is had to violence. when men unite in agreeing that a thing is good, could it be obtained, such for instance as relief from a burden of taxes and the extinction of corruption, the object is more than half accomplished. what they approve as the end, they will promote in the means. will any man say, in the present excess of taxation, falling so heavily on the poor, that a remission of five pounds annually of taxes to one hundred and four thousand poor families is not a good thing? will he say that a remission of seven pounds annually to one hundred thousand other poor families--of eight pounds annually to another hundred thousand poor families, and of ten pounds annually to fifty thousand poor and widowed families, are not good things? and, to proceed a step further in this climax, will he say that to provide against the misfortunes to which all human life is subject, by securing six pounds annually for all poor, distressed, and reduced persons of the age of fifty and until sixty, and of ten pounds annually after sixty, is not a good thing? will he say that an abolition of two millions of poor-rates to the house-keepers, and of the whole of the house and window-light tax and of the commutation tax is not a good thing? or will he say that to abolish corruption is a bad thing? if, therefore, the good to be obtained be worthy of a passive, rational, and costless revolution, it would be bad policy to prefer waiting for a calamity that should force a violent one. i have no idea, considering the reforms which are now passing and spreading throughout europe, that england will permit herself to be the last; and where the occasion and the opportunity quietly offer, it is better than to wait for a turbulent necessity. it may be considered as an honour to the animal faculties of man to obtain redress by courage and danger, but it is far greater honour to the rational faculties to accomplish the same object by reason, accommodation, and general consent.*[ ] as reforms, or revolutions, call them which you please, extend themselves among nations, those nations will form connections and conventions, and when a few are thus confederated, the progress will be rapid, till despotism and corrupt government be totally expelled, at least out of two quarters of the world, europe and america. the algerine piracy may then be commanded to cease, for it is only by the malicious policy of old governments, against each other, that it exists. throughout this work, various and numerous as the subjects are, which i have taken up and investigated, there is only a single paragraph upon religion, viz. "that every religion is good that teaches man to be good." i have carefully avoided to enlarge upon the subject, because i am inclined to believe that what is called the present ministry, wish to see contentions about religion kept up, to prevent the nation turning its attention to subjects of government. it is as if they were to say, "look that way, or any way, but this." but as religion is very improperly made a political machine, and the reality of it is thereby destroyed, i will conclude this work with stating in what light religion appears to me. if we suppose a large family of children, who, on any particular day, or particular circumstance, made it a custom to present to their parents some token of their affection and gratitude, each of them would make a different offering, and most probably in a different manner. some would pay their congratulations in themes of verse and prose, by some little devices, as their genius dictated, or according to what they thought would please; and, perhaps, the least of all, not able to do any of those things, would ramble into the garden, or the field, and gather what it thought the prettiest flower it could find, though, perhaps, it might be but a simple weed. the parent would be more gratified by such a variety, than if the whole of them had acted on a concerted plan, and each had made exactly the same offering. this would have the cold appearance of contrivance, or the harsh one of control. but of all unwelcome things, nothing could more afflict the parent than to know, that the whole of them had afterwards gotten together by the ears, boys and girls, fighting, scratching, reviling, and abusing each other about which was the best or the worst present. why may we not suppose, that the great father of all is pleased with variety of devotion; and that the greatest offence we can act, is that by which we seek to torment and render each other miserable? for my own part, i am fully satisfied that what i am now doing, with an endeavour to conciliate mankind, to render their condition happy, to unite nations that have hitherto been enemies, and to extirpate the horrid practice of war, and break the chains of slavery and oppression is acceptable in his sight, and being the best service i can perform, i act it cheerfully. i do not believe that any two men, on what are called doctrinal points, think alike who think at all. it is only those who have not thought that appear to agree. it is in this case as with what is called the british constitution. it has been taken for granted to be good, and encomiums have supplied the place of proof. but when the nation comes to examine into its principles and the abuses it admits, it will be found to have more defects than i have pointed out in this work and the former. as to what are called national religions, we may, with as much propriety, talk of national gods. it is either political craft or the remains of the pagan system, when every nation had its separate and particular deity. among all the writers of the english church clergy, who have treated on the general subject of religion, the present bishop of llandaff has not been excelled, and it is with much pleasure that i take this opportunity of expressing this token of respect. i have now gone through the whole of the subject, at least, as far as it appears to me at present. it has been my intention for the five years i have been in europe, to offer an address to the people of england on the subject of government, if the opportunity presented itself before i returned to america. mr. burke has thrown it in my way, and i thank him. on a certain occasion, three years ago, i pressed him to propose a national convention, to be fairly elected, for the purpose of taking the state of the nation into consideration; but i found, that however strongly the parliamentary current was then setting against the party he acted with, their policy was to keep every thing within that field of corruption, and trust to accidents. long experience had shown that parliaments would follow any change of ministers, and on this they rested their hopes and their expectations. formerly, when divisions arose respecting governments, recourse was had to the sword, and a civil war ensued. that savage custom is exploded by the new system, and reference is had to national conventions. discussion and the general will arbitrates the question, and to this, private opinion yields with a good grace, and order is preserved uninterrupted. some gentlemen have affected to call the principles upon which this work and the former part of rights of man are founded, "a new-fangled doctrine." the question is not whether those principles are new or old, but whether they are right or wrong. suppose the former, i will show their effect by a figure easily understood. it is now towards the middle of february. were i to take a turn into the country, the trees would present a leafless, wintery appearance. as people are apt to pluck twigs as they walk along, i perhaps might do the same, and by chance might observe, that a single bud on that twig had begun to swell. i should reason very unnaturally, or rather not reason at all, to suppose this was the only bud in england which had this appearance. instead of deciding thus, i should instantly conclude, that the same appearance was beginning, or about to begin, every where; and though the vegetable sleep will continue longer on some trees and plants than on others, and though some of them may not blossom for two or three years, all will be in leaf in the summer, except those which are rotten. what pace the political summer may keep with the natural, no human foresight can determine. it is, however, not difficult to perceive that the spring is begun.--thus wishing, as i sincerely do, freedom and happiness to all nations, i close the second part. appendix as the publication of this work has been delayed beyond the time intended, i think it not improper, all circumstances considered, to state the causes that have occasioned delay. the reader will probably observe, that some parts in the plan contained in this work for reducing the taxes, and certain parts in mr. pitt's speech at the opening of the present session, tuesday, january , are so much alike as to induce a belief, that either the author had taken the hint from mr. pitt, or mr. pitt from the author.--i will first point out the parts that are similar, and then state such circumstances as i am acquainted with, leaving the reader to make his own conclusion. considering it as almost an unprecedented case, that taxes should be proposed to be taken off, it is equally extraordinary that such a measure should occur to two persons at the same time; and still more so (considering the vast variety and multiplicity of taxes) that they should hit on the same specific taxes. mr. pitt has mentioned, in his speech, the tax on carts and wagons--that on female servantsthe lowering the tax on candles and the taking off the tax of three shillings on houses having under seven windows. every one of those specific taxes are a part of the plan contained in this work, and proposed also to be taken off. mr. pitt's plan, it is true, goes no further than to a reduction of three hundred and twenty thousand pounds; and the reduction proposed in this work, to nearly six millions. i have made my calculations on only sixteen millions and an half of revenue, still asserting that it was "very nearly, if not quite, seventeen millions." mr. pitt states it at , , . i know enough of the matter to say, that he has not overstated it. having thus given the particulars, which correspond in this work and his speech, i will state a chain of circumstances that may lead to some explanation. the first hint for lessening the taxes, and that as a consequence flowing from the french revolution, is to be found in the address and declaration of the gentlemen who met at the thatched-house tavern, august , . among many other particulars stated in that address, is the following, put as an interrogation to the government opposers of the french revolution. "are they sorry that the pretence for new oppressive taxes, and the occasion for continuing many old taxes will be at an end?" it is well known that the persons who chiefly frequent the thatched-house tavern, are men of court connections, and so much did they take this address and declaration respecting the french revolution, and the reduction of taxes in disgust, that the landlord was under the necessity of informing the gentlemen, who composed the meeting of the th of august, and who proposed holding another meeting, that he could not receive them.*[ ] what was only hinted in the address and declaration respecting taxes and principles of government, will be found reduced to a regular system in this work. but as mr. pitt's speech contains some of the same things respecting taxes, i now come to give the circumstances before alluded to. the case is: this work was intended to be published just before the meeting of parliament, and for that purpose a considerable part of the copy was put into the printer's hands in september, and all the remaining copy, which contains the part to which mr. pitt's speech is similar, was given to him full six weeks before the meeting of parliament, and he was informed of the time at which it was to appear. he had composed nearly the whole about a fortnight before the time of parliament meeting, and had given me a proof of the next sheet. it was then in sufficient forwardness to be out at the time proposed, as two other sheets were ready for striking off. i had before told him, that if he thought he should be straitened for time, i could get part of the work done at another press, which he desired me not to do. in this manner the work stood on the tuesday fortnight preceding the meeting of parliament, when all at once, without any previous intimation, though i had been with him the evening before, he sent me, by one of his workmen, all the remaining copy, declining to go on with the work on any consideration. to account for this extraordinary conduct i was totally at a loss, as he stopped at the part where the arguments on systems and principles of government closed, and where the plan for the reduction of taxes, the education of children, and the support of the poor and the aged begins; and still more especially, as he had, at the time of his beginning to print, and before he had seen the whole copy, offered a thousand pounds for the copy-right, together with the future copy-right of the former part of the rights of man. i told the person who brought me this offer that i should not accept it, and wished it not to be renewed, giving him as my reason, that though i believed the printer to be an honest man, i would never put it in the power of any printer or publisher to suppress or alter a work of mine, by making him master of the copy, or give to him the right of selling it to any minister, or to any other person, or to treat as a mere matter of traffic, that which i intended should operate as a principle. his refusal to complete the work (which he could not purchase) obliged me to seek for another printer, and this of consequence would throw the publication back till after the meeting of parliament, otherways it would have appeared that mr. pitt had only taken up a part of the plan which i had more fully stated. whether that gentleman, or any other, had seen the work, or any part of it, is more than i have authority to say. but the manner in which the work was returned, and the particular time at which this was done, and that after the offers he had made, are suspicious circumstances. i know what the opinion of booksellers and publishers is upon such a case, but as to my own opinion, i choose to make no declaration. there are many ways by which proof sheets may be procured by other persons before a work publicly appears; to which i shall add a certain circumstance, which is, a ministerial bookseller in piccadilly who has been employed, as common report says, by a clerk of one of the boards closely connected with the ministry (the board of trade and plantation, of which hawkesbury is president) to publish what he calls my life, (i wish his own life and those of the cabinet were as good), used to have his books printed at the same printing-office that i employed; but when the former part of rights of man came out, he took his work away in dudgeon; and about a week or ten days before the printer returned my copy, he came to make him an offer of his work again, which was accepted. this would consequently give him admission into the printing-office where the sheets of this work were then lying; and as booksellers and printers are free with each other, he would have the opportunity of seeing what was going on.--be the case, however, as it may, mr. pitt's plan, little and diminutive as it is, would have made a very awkward appearance, had this work appeared at the time the printer had engaged to finish it. i have now stated the particulars which occasioned the delay, from the proposal to purchase, to the refusal to print. if all the gentlemen are innocent, it is very unfortunate for them that such a variety of suspicious circumstances should, without any design, arrange themselves together. having now finished this part, i will conclude with stating another circumstance. about a fortnight or three weeks before the meeting of parliament, a small addition, amounting to about twelve shillings and sixpence a year, was made to the pay of the soldiers, or rather their pay was docked so much less. some gentlemen who knew, in part, that this work would contain a plan of reforms respecting the oppressed condition of soldiers, wished me to add a note to the work, signifying that the part upon that subject had been in the printer's hands some weeks before that addition of pay was proposed. i declined doing this, lest it should be interpreted into an air of vanity, or an endeavour to excite suspicion (for which perhaps there might be no grounds) that some of the government gentlemen had, by some means or other, made out what this work would contain: and had not the printing been interrupted so as to occasion a delay beyond the time fixed for publication, nothing contained in this appendix would have appeared. thomas paine the author's notes for part one and part two [footnote : the main and uniform maxim of the judges is, the greater the truth the greater the libel.] [footnote : since writing the above, two other places occur in mr. burke's pamphlet in which the name of the bastille is mentioned, but in the same manner. in the one he introduces it in a sort of obscure question, and asks: "will any ministers who now serve such a king, with but a decent appearance of respect, cordially obey the orders of those whom but the other day, in his name, they had committed to the bastille?" in the other the taking it is mentioned as implying criminality in the french guards, who assisted in demolishing it. "they have not," says he, "forgot the taking the king's castles at paris." this is mr. burke, who pretends to write on constitutional freedom.] [footnote : i am warranted in asserting this, as i had it personally from m. de la fayette, with whom i lived in habits of friendship for fourteen years.] [footnote : an account of the expedition to versailles may be seen in no. of the revolution de paris containing the events from the rd to the th of october, .] [footnote : it is a practice in some parts of the country, when two travellers have but one horse, which, like the national purse, will not carry double, that the one mounts and rides two or three miles ahead, and then ties the horse to a gate and walks on. when the second traveller arrives he takes the horse, rides on, and passes his companion a mile or two, and ties again, and so on--ride and tie.] [footnote : the word he used was renvoye, dismissed or sent away.] [footnote : when in any country we see extraordinary circumstances taking place, they naturally lead any man who has a talent for observation and investigation, to enquire into the causes. the manufacturers of manchester, birmingham, and sheffield, are the principal manufacturers in england. from whence did this arise? a little observation will explain the case. the principal, and the generality of the inhabitants of those places, are not of what is called in england, the church established by law: and they, or their fathers, (for it is within but a few years) withdrew from the persecution of the chartered towns, where test-laws more particularly operate, and established a sort of asylum for themselves in those places. it was the only asylum that then offered, for the rest of europe was worse.--but the case is now changing. france and america bid all comers welcome, and initiate them into all the rights of citizenship. policy and interest, therefore, will, but perhaps too late, dictate in england, what reason and justice could not. those manufacturers are withdrawing, and arising in other places. there is now erecting in passey, three miles from paris, a large cotton manufactory, and several are already erected in america. soon after the rejecting the bill for repealing the test-law, one of the richest manufacturers in england said in my hearing, "england, sir, is not a country for a dissenter to live in,--we must go to france." these are truths, and it is doing justice to both parties to tell them. it is chiefly the dissenters that have carried english manufactures to the height they are now at, and the same men have it in their power to carry them away; and though those manufactures would afterwards continue in those places, the foreign market will be lost. there frequently appear in the london gazette, extracts from certain acts to prevent machines and persons, as far as they can extend to persons, from going out of the country. it appears from these that the ill effects of the test-laws and church-establishment begin to be much suspected; but the remedy of force can never supply the remedy of reason. in the progress of less than a century, all the unrepresented part of england, of all denominations, which is at least an hundred times the most numerous, may begin to feel the necessity of a constitution, and then all those matters will come regularly before them.] [footnote : when the english minister, mr. pitt, mentions the french finances again in the english parliament, it would be well that he noticed this as an example.] [footnote : mr. burke, (and i must take the liberty of telling him that he is very unacquainted with french affairs), speaking upon this subject, says, "the first thing that struck me in calling the states-general, was a great departure from the ancient course";--and he soon after says, "from the moment i read the list, i saw distinctly, and very nearly as it has happened, all that was to follow."--mr. burke certainly did not see an that was to follow. i endeavoured to impress him, as well before as after the states-general met, that there would be a revolution; but was not able to make him see it, neither would he believe it. how then he could distinctly see all the parts, when the whole was out of sight, is beyond my comprehension. and with respect to the "departure from the ancient course," besides the natural weakness of the remark, it shows that he is unacquainted with circumstances. the departure was necessary, from the experience had upon it, that the ancient course was a bad one. the states-general of were called at the commencement of the civil war in the minority of louis xiii.; but by the class of arranging them by orders, they increased the confusion they were called to compose. the author of l'intrigue du cabinet, (intrigue of the cabinet), who wrote before any revolution was thought of in france, speaking of the states-general of , says, "they held the public in suspense five months; and by the questions agitated therein, and the heat with which they were put, it appears that the great (les grands) thought more to satisfy their particular passions, than to procure the goods of the nation; and the whole time passed away in altercations, ceremonies and parade."--l'intrigue du cabinet, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : there is a single idea, which, if it strikes rightly upon the mind, either in a legal or a religious sense, will prevent any man or any body of men, or any government, from going wrong on the subject of religion; which is, that before any human institutions of government were known in the world, there existed, if i may so express it, a compact between god and man, from the beginning of time: and that as the relation and condition which man in his individual person stands in towards his maker cannot be changed by any human laws or human authority, that religious devotion, which is a part of this compact, cannot so much as be made a subject of human laws; and that all laws must conform themselves to this prior existing compact, and not assume to make the compact conform to the laws, which, besides being human, are subsequent thereto. the first act of man, when he looked around and saw himself a creature which he did not make, and a world furnished for his reception, must have been devotion; and devotion must ever continue sacred to every individual man, as it appears, right to him; and governments do mischief by interfering.] [footnote : see this work, part i starting at line number .--n.b. since the taking of the bastille, the occurrences have been published: but the matters recorded in this narrative, are prior to that period; and some of them, as may be easily seen, can be but very little known.] [footnote : see "estimate of the comparative strength of great britain," by g. chalmers.] [footnote : see "administration of the finances of france," vol. iii, by m. neckar.] [footnote : "administration of the finances of france," vol. iii.] [footnote : whether the english commerce does not bring in money, or whether the government sends it out after it is brought in, is a matter which the parties concerned can best explain; but that the deficiency exists, is not in the power of either to disprove. while dr. price, mr. eden, (now auckland), mr. chalmers, and others, were debating whether the quantity of money in england was greater or less than at the revolution, the circumstance was not adverted to, that since the revolution, there cannot have been less than four hundred millions sterling imported into europe; and therefore the quantity in england ought at least to have been four times greater than it was at the revolution, to be on a proportion with europe. what england is now doing by paper, is what she would have been able to do by solid money, if gold and silver had come into the nation in the proportion it ought, or had not been sent out; and she is endeavouring to restore by paper, the balance she has lost by money. it is certain, that the gold and silver which arrive annually in the register-ships to spain and portugal, do not remain in those countries. taking the value half in gold and half in silver, it is about four hundred tons annually; and from the number of ships and galloons employed in the trade of bringing those metals from south-america to portugal and spain, the quantity sufficiently proves itself, without referring to the registers. in the situation england now is, it is impossible she can increase in money. high taxes not only lessen the property of the individuals, but they lessen also the money capital of the nation, by inducing smuggling, which can only be carried on by gold and silver. by the politics which the british government have carried on with the inland powers of germany and the continent, it has made an enemy of all the maritime powers, and is therefore obliged to keep up a large navy; but though the navy is built in england, the naval stores must be purchased from abroad, and that from countries where the greatest part must be paid for in gold and silver. some fallacious rumours have been set afloat in england to induce a belief in money, and, among others, that of the french refugees bringing great quantities. the idea is ridiculous. the general part of the money in france is silver; and it would take upwards of twenty of the largest broad wheel wagons, with ten horses each, to remove one million sterling of silver. is it then to be supposed, that a few people fleeing on horse-back or in post-chaises, in a secret manner, and having the french custom-house to pass, and the sea to cross, could bring even a sufficiency for their own expenses? when millions of money are spoken of, it should be recollected, that such sums can only accumulate in a country by slow degrees, and a long procession of time. the most frugal system that england could now adopt, would not recover in a century the balance she has lost in money since the commencement of the hanover succession. she is seventy millions behind france, and she must be in some considerable proportion behind every country in europe, because the returns of the english mint do not show an increase of money, while the registers of lisbon and cadiz show an european increase of between three and four hundred millions sterling.] [footnote : that part of america which is generally called new-england, including new-hampshire, massachusetts, rhode-island, and connecticut, is peopled chiefly by english descendants. in the state of new-york about half are dutch, the rest english, scotch, and irish. in new-jersey, a mixture of english and dutch, with some scotch and irish. in pennsylvania about one third are english, another germans, and the remainder scotch and irish, with some swedes. the states to the southward have a greater proportion of english than the middle states, but in all of them there is a mixture; and besides those enumerated, there are a considerable number of french, and some few of all the european nations, lying on the coast. the most numerous religious denomination are the presbyterians; but no one sect is established above another, and all men are equally citizens.] [footnote : for a character of aristocracy, the reader is referred to rights of man, part i., starting at line number .] [footnote : the whole amount of the assessed taxes of france, for the present year, is three hundred millions of francs, which is twelve millions and a half sterling; and the incidental taxes are estimated at three millions, making in the whole fifteen millions and a half; which among twenty-four millions of people, is not quite thirteen shillings per head. france has lessened her taxes since the revolution, nearly nine millions sterling annually. before the revolution, the city of paris paid a duty of upwards of thirty per cent. on all articles brought into the city. this tax was collected at the city gates. it was taken off on the first of last may, and the gates taken down.] [footnote : what was called the livre rouge, or the red book, in france, was not exactly similar to the court calendar in england; but it sufficiently showed how a great part of the taxes was lavished.] [footnote : in england the improvements in agriculture, useful arts, manufactures, and commerce, have been made in opposition to the genius of its government, which is that of following precedents. it is from the enterprise and industry of the individuals, and their numerous associations, in which, tritely speaking, government is neither pillow nor bolster, that these improvements have proceeded. no man thought about government, or who was in, or who was out, when he was planning or executing those things; and all he had to hope, with respect to government, was, that it would let him alone. three or four very silly ministerial newspapers are continually offending against the spirit of national improvement, by ascribing it to a minister. they may with as much truth ascribe this book to a minister.] [footnote : with respect to the two houses, of which the english parliament is composed, they appear to be effectually influenced into one, and, as a legislature, to have no temper of its own. the minister, whoever he at any time may be, touches it as with an opium wand, and it sleeps obedience. but if we look at the distinct abilities of the two houses, the difference will appear so great, as to show the inconsistency of placing power where there can be no certainty of the judgment to use it. wretched as the state of representation is in england, it is manhood compared with what is called the house of lords; and so little is this nick-named house regarded, that the people scarcely enquire at any time what it is doing. it appears also to be most under influence, and the furthest removed from the general interest of the nation. in the debate on engaging in the russian and turkish war, the majority in the house of peers in favor of it was upwards of ninety, when in the other house, which was more than double its numbers, the majority was sixty-three.] the proceedings on mr. fox's bill, respecting the rights of juries, merits also to be noticed. the persons called the peers were not the objects of that bill. they are already in possession of more privileges than that bill gave to others. they are their own jury, and if any one of that house were prosecuted for a libel, he would not suffer, even upon conviction, for the first offense. such inequality in laws ought not to exist in any country. the french constitution says, that the law is the same to every individual, whether to protect or to punish. all are equal in its sight.] [footnote : as to the state of representation in england, it is too absurd to be reasoned upon. almost all the represented parts are decreasing in population, and the unrepresented parts are increasing. a general convention of the nation is necessary to take the whole form of government into consideration.] [footnote : it is related that in the canton of berne, in switzerland, it has been customary, from time immemorial, to keep a bear at the public expense, and the people had been taught to believe that if they had not a bear they should all be undone. it happened some years ago that the bear, then in being, was taken sick, and died too suddenly to have his place immediately supplied with another. during this interregnum the people discovered that the corn grew, and the vintage flourished, and the sun and moon continued to rise and set, and everything went on the same as before, and taking courage from these circumstances, they resolved not to keep any more bears; for, said they, "a bear is a very voracious expensive animal, and we were obliged to pull out his claws, lest he should hurt the citizens." the story of the bear of berne was related in some of the french newspapers, at the time of the flight of louis xvi., and the application of it to monarchy could not be mistaken in france; but it seems that the aristocracy of berne applied it to themselves, and have since prohibited the reading of french newspapers.] [footnote : it is scarcely possible to touch on any subject, that will not suggest an allusion to some corruption in governments. the simile of "fortifications," unfortunately involves with it a circumstance, which is directly in point with the matter above alluded to.] among the numerous instances of abuse which have been acted or protected by governments, ancient or modern, there is not a greater than that of quartering a man and his heirs upon the public, to be maintained at its expense. humanity dictates a provision for the poor; but by what right, moral or political, does any government assume to say, that the person called the duke of richmond, shall be maintained by the public? yet, if common report is true, not a beggar in london can purchase his wretched pittance of coal, without paying towards the civil list of the duke of richmond. were the whole produce of this imposition but a shilling a year, the iniquitous principle would be still the same; but when it amounts, as it is said to do, to no less than twenty thousand pounds per annum, the enormity is too serious to be permitted to remain. this is one of the effects of monarchy and aristocracy. in stating this case i am led by no personal dislike. though i think it mean in any man to live upon the public, the vice originates in the government; and so general is it become, that whether the parties are in the ministry or in the opposition, it makes no difference: they are sure of the guarantee of each other.] [footnote : in america the increase of commerce is greater in proportion than in england. it is, at this time, at least one half more than at any period prior to the revolution. the greatest number of vessels cleared out of the port of philadelphia, before the commencement of the war, was between eight and nine hundred. in the year , the number was upwards of twelve hundred. as the state of pennsylvania is estimated at an eighth part of the united states in population, the whole number of vessels must now be nearly ten thousand.] [footnote : when i saw mr. pitt's mode of estimating the balance of trade, in one of his parliamentary speeches, he appeared to me to know nothing of the nature and interest of commerce; and no man has more wantonly tortured it than himself. during a period of peace it has been havocked with the calamities of war. three times has it been thrown into stagnation, and the vessels unmanned by impressing, within less than four years of peace.] [footnote : rev. william knowle, master of the grammar school of thetford, in norfolk.] [footnote : politics and self-interest have been so uniformly connected that the world, from being so often deceived, has a right to be suspicious of public characters, but with regard to myself i am perfectly easy on this head. i did not, at my first setting out in public life, nearly seventeen years ago, turn my thoughts to subjects of government from motives of interest, and my conduct from that moment to this proves the fact. i saw an opportunity in which i thought i could do some good, and i followed exactly what my heart dictated. i neither read books, nor studied other people's opinion. i thought for myself. the case was this:-- during the suspension of the old governments in america, both prior to and at the breaking out of hostilities, i was struck with the order and decorum with which everything was conducted, and impressed with the idea that a little more than what society naturally performed was all the government that was necessary, and that monarchy and aristocracy were frauds and impositions upon mankind. on these principles i published the pamphlet common sense. the success it met with was beyond anything since the invention of printing. i gave the copyright to every state in the union, and the demand ran to not less than one hundred thousand copies. i continued the subject in the same manner, under the title of the crisis, till the complete establishment of the revolution. after the declaration of independence congress unanimously, and unknown to me, appointed me secretary in the foreign department. this was agreeable to me, because it gave me the opportunity of seeing into the abilities of foreign courts, and their manner of doing business. but a misunderstanding arising between congress and me, respecting one of their commissioners then in europe, mr. silas deane, i resigned the office, and declined at the same time the pecuniary offers made by the ministers of france and spain, m. gerald and don juan mirralles.] i had by this time so completely gained the ear and confidence of america, and my own independence was become so visible, as to give me a range in political writing beyond, perhaps, what any man ever possessed in any country, and, what is more extraordinary, i held it undiminished to the end of the war, and enjoy it in the same manner to the present moment. as my object was not myself, i set out with the determination, and happily with the disposition, of not being moved by praise or censure, friendship or calumny, nor of being drawn from my purpose by any personal altercation, and the man who cannot do this is not fit for a public character. when the war ended i went from philadelphia to borden-town, on the east bank of the delaware, where i have a small place. congress was at this time at prince-town, fifteen miles distant, and general washington had taken his headquarters at rocky hill, within the neighbourhood of congress, for the purpose of resigning up his commission (the object for which he accepted it being accomplished), and of retiring to private life. while he was on this business he wrote me the letter which i here subjoin: "rocky-hill, sept. , . "i have learned since i have been at this place that you are at borden-town. whether for the sake of retirement or economy i know not. be it for either, for both, or whatever it may, if you will come to this place, and partake with me, i shall be exceedingly happy to see you at it. "your presence may remind congress of your past services to this country, and if it is in my power to impress them, command my best exertions with freedom, as they will be rendered cheerfully by one who entertains a lively sense of the importance of your works, and who, with much pleasure, subscribes himself, your sincere friend, g. washington." during the war, in the latter end of the year , i formed to myself a design of coming over to england, and communicated it to general greene, who was then in philadelphia on his route to the southward, general washington being then at too great a distance to communicate with immediately. i was strongly impressed with the idea that if i could get over to england without being known, and only remain in safety till i could get out a publication, that i could open the eyes of the country with respect to the madness and stupidity of its government. i saw that the parties in parliament had pitted themselves as far as they could go, and could make no new impressions on each other. general greene entered fully into my views, but the affair of arnold and andre happening just after, he changed his mind, under strong apprehensions for my safety, wrote very pressingly to me from annapolis, in maryland, to give up the design, which, with some reluctance, i did. soon after this i accompanied colonel lawrens, son of mr. lawrens, who was then in the tower, to france on business from congress. we landed at l'orient, and while i remained there, he being gone forward, a circumstance occurred that renewed my former design. an english packet from falmouth to new york, with the government dispatches on board, was brought into l'orient. that a packet should be taken is no extraordinary thing, but that the dispatches should be taken with it will scarcely be credited, as they are always slung at the cabin window in a bag loaded with cannon-ball, and ready to be sunk at a moment. the fact, however, is as i have stated it, for the dispatches came into my hands, and i read them. the capture, as i was informed, succeeded by the following stratagem:--the captain of the "madame" privateer, who spoke english, on coming up with the packet, passed himself for the captain of an english frigate, and invited the captain of the packet on board, which, when done, he sent some of his own hands back, and he secured the mail. but be the circumstance of the capture what it may, i speak with certainty as to the government dispatches. they were sent up to paris to count vergennes, and when colonel lawrens and myself returned to america we took the originals to congress. by these dispatches i saw into the stupidity of the english cabinet far more than i otherwise could have done, and i renewed my former design. but colonel lawrens was so unwilling to return alone, more especially as, among other matters, we had a charge of upwards of two hundred thousand pounds sterling in money, that i gave in to his wishes, and finally gave up my plan. but i am now certain that if i could have executed it that it would not have been altogether unsuccessful.] [footnote : it is difficult to account for the origin of charter and corporation towns, unless we suppose them to have arisen out of, or been connected with, some species of garrison service. the times in which they began justify this idea. the generality of those towns have been garrisons, and the corporations were charged with the care of the gates of the towns, when no military garrison was present. their refusing or granting admission to strangers, which has produced the custom of giving, selling, and buying freedom, has more of the nature of garrison authority than civil government. soldiers are free of all corporations throughout the nation, by the same propriety that every soldier is free of every garrison, and no other persons are. he can follow any employment, with the permission of his officers, in any corporation towns throughout the nation.] [footnote : see sir john sinclair's history of the revenue. the land-tax in was l , , .] [footnote : several of the court newspapers have of late made frequent mention of wat tyler. that his memory should be traduced by court sycophants and an those who live on the spoil of a public is not to be wondered at. he was, however, the means of checking the rage and injustice of taxation in his time, and the nation owed much to his valour. the history is concisely this:--in the time of richard ii. a poll tax was levied of one shilling per head upon every person in the nation of whatever estate or condition, on poor as well as rich, above the age of fifteen years. if any favour was shown in the law it was to the rich rather than to the poor, as no person could be charged more than twenty shillings for himself, family and servants, though ever so numerous; while all other families, under the number of twenty were charged per head. poll taxes had always been odious, but this being also oppressive and unjust, it excited as it naturally must, universal detestation among the poor and middle classes. the person known by the name of wat tyler, whose proper name was walter, and a tiler by trade, lived at deptford. the gatherer of the poll tax, on coming to his house, demanded tax for one of his daughters, whom tyler declared was under the age of fifteen. the tax-gatherer insisted on satisfying himself, and began an indecent examination of the girl, which, enraging the father, he struck him with a hammer that brought him to the ground, and was the cause of his death. this circumstance served to bring the discontent to an issue. the inhabitants of the neighbourhood espoused the cause of tyler, who in a few days was joined, according to some histories, by upwards of fifty thousand men, and chosen their chief. with this force he marched to london, to demand an abolition of the tax and a redress of other grievances. the court, finding itself in a forlorn condition, and, unable to make resistance, agreed, with richard at its head, to hold a conference with tyler in smithfield, making many fair professions, courtier-like, of its dispositions to redress the oppressions. while richard and tyler were in conversation on these matters, each being on horseback, walworth, then mayor of london, and one of the creatures of the court, watched an opportunity, and like a cowardly assassin, stabbed tyler with a dagger, and two or three others falling upon him, he was instantly sacrificed. tyler appears to have been an intrepid disinterested man with respect to himself. all his proposals made to richard were on a more just and public ground than those which had been made to john by the barons, and notwithstanding the sycophancy of historians and men like mr. burke, who seek to gloss over a base action of the court by traducing tyler, his fame will outlive their falsehood. if the barons merited a monument to be erected at runnymede, tyler merited one in smithfield.] [footnote : i happened to be in england at the celebration of the centenary of the revolution of . the characters of william and mary have always appeared to be detestable; the one seeking to destroy his uncle, and the other her father, to get possession of power themselves; yet, as the nation was disposed to think something of that event, i felt hurt at seeing it ascribe the whole reputation of it to a man who had undertaken it as a job and who, besides what he otherwise got, charged six hundred thousand pounds for the expense of the fleet that brought him from holland. george the first acted the same close-fisted part as william had done, and bought the duchy of bremen with the money he got from england, two hundred and fifty thousand pounds over and above his pay as king, and having thus purchased it at the expense of england, added it to his hanoverian dominions for his own private profit. in fact, every nation that does not govern itself is governed as a job. england has been the prey of jobs ever since the revolution.] [footnote : charles, like his predecessors and successors, finding that war was the harvest of governments, engaged in a war with the dutch, the expense of which increased the annual expenditure to l , , as stated under the date of ; but the peace establishment was but l , , .] [footnote : poor-rates began about the time of henry viii., when the taxes began to increase, and they have increased as the taxes increased ever since.] [footnote : reckoning the taxes by families, five to a family, each family pays on an average l s. d. per annum. to this sum are to be added the poor-rates. though all pay taxes in the articles they consume, all do not pay poor-rates. about two millions are exempted: some as not being house-keepers, others as not being able, and the poor themselves who receive the relief. the average, therefore, of poor-rates on the remaining number, is forty shillings for every family of five persons, which make the whole average amount of taxes and rates l s. d. for six persons l s. for seven persons l o s. d. the average of taxes in america, under the new or representative system of government, including the interest of the debt contracted in the war, and taking the population at four millions of souls, which it now amounts to, and it is daily increasing, is five shillings per head, men, women, and children. the difference, therefore, between the two governments is as under: england america l s. d. l s. d. for a family of five persons for a family of six persons for a family of seven persons [footnote : public schools do not answer the general purpose of the poor. they are chiefly in corporation towns from which the country towns and villages are excluded, or, if admitted, the distance occasions a great loss of time. education, to be useful to the poor, should be on the spot, and the best method, i believe, to accomplish this is to enable the parents to pay the expenses themselves. there are always persons of both sexes to be found in every village, especially when growing into years, capable of such an undertaking. twenty children at ten shillings each (and that not more than six months each year) would be as much as some livings amount to in the remotest parts of england, and there are often distressed clergymen's widows to whom such an income would be acceptable. whatever is given on this account to children answers two purposes. to them it is education--to those who educate them it is a livelihood.] [footnote : the tax on beer brewed for sale, from which the aristocracy are exempt, is almost one million more than the present commutation tax, being by the returns of , l , , --and, consequently, they ought to take on themselves the amount of the commutation tax, as they are already exempted from one which is almost a million greater.] [footnote : see the reports on the corn trade.] [footnote : when enquiries are made into the condition of the poor, various degrees of distress will most probably be found, to render a different arrangement preferable to that which is already proposed. widows with families will be in greater want than where there are husbands living. there is also a difference in the expense of living in different counties: and more so in fuel. suppose then fifty thousand extraordinary cases, at the rate of ten pounds per family per annum l , , families, at l per family per annum , , families, at l per family per annum , , families, at l per family per annum , and instead of ten shillings per head for the education of other children, to allow fifty shillings per family for that purpose to fifty thousand families , ---------- l , , , aged persons as before , , ---------- l , , this arrangement amounts to the same sum as stated in this work, part ii, line number , including the l , for education; but it provides (including the aged people) for four hundred and four thousand families, which is almost one third of an the families in england.] [footnote : i know it is the opinion of many of the most enlightened characters in france (there always will be those who see further into events than others), not only among the general mass of citizens, but of many of the principal members of the former national assembly, that the monarchical plan will not continue many years in that country. they have found out, that as wisdom cannot be made hereditary, power ought not; and that, for a man to merit a million sterling a year from a nation, he ought to have a mind capable of comprehending from an atom to a universe, which, if he had, he would be above receiving the pay. but they wished not to appear to lead the nation faster than its own reason and interest dictated. in all the conversations where i have been present upon this subject, the idea always was, that when such a time, from the general opinion of the nation, shall arrive, that the honourable and liberal method would be, to make a handsome present in fee simple to the person, whoever he may be, that shall then be in the monarchical office, and for him to retire to the enjoyment of private life, possessing his share of general rights and privileges, and to be no more accountable to the public for his time and his conduct than any other citizen.] [footnote : the gentleman who signed the address and declaration as chairman of the meeting, mr. horne tooke, being generally supposed to be the person who drew it up, and having spoken much in commendation of it, has been jocularly accused of praising his own work. to free him from this embarrassment, and to save him the repeated trouble of mentioning the author, as he has not failed to do, i make no hesitation in saying, that as the opportunity of benefiting by the french revolution easily occurred to me, i drew up the publication in question, and showed it to him and some other gentlemen, who, fully approving it, held a meeting for the purpose of making it public, and subscribed to the amount of fifty guineas to defray the expense of advertising. i believe there are at this time, in england, a greater number of men acting on disinterested principles, and determined to look into the nature and practices of government themselves, and not blindly trust, as has hitherto been the case, either to government generally, or to parliaments, or to parliamentary opposition, than at any former period. had this been done a century ago, corruption and taxation had not arrived to the height they are now at.] -end of part ii.- the writings of thomas paine by thomas paine edited by moncure daniel conway volume iii. - g. p. putnam's sons new york london copyright, by g. p. putnam's sons contents. introduction to the third volume i. the republican proclamation ii. to the authors of "le républicain" iii. to the abbe sieyes iv. to the attorney general v. to mr. secretary dundas vi. letters to onslow cranley vii. to the sheriff of the county of sussex viii. to mr. secretary dundas ix. letter addressed to the addressers on the late proclamation x. address to the people of france xi. anti-monarchal essay xii. to the attorney general, on the prosecution against the second part of rights of man xiii. on the propriety of bringing louis xvi to trial xiv. reasons for preserving the life of louis capet xv. shall louis xvi. have respite? xvi. declaration of rights. xvii. private letters to jefferson xviii. letters to danton xix. a citizen of america to the citizens of europe xx. appeal to the convention xxi. the memorial to monroe xxii. letter to george washington xxiii. observations xxiv. dissertation on first principles of government xxv. the constitution of xxvi. the decline and fall of the english system of finance xxvii. forgetfulness xxviii. agrarian justice xxix. the eighteenth fructidor xxx. the recall of monroe xxxi. private letter to president jefferson xxxii. proposal that louisiana be purchased xxxiii. thomas paine to the citizens of the united states xxxiv. to the french inhabitants of louisiana introduction to the third volume. with historical notes and documents. in a letter of lafayette to washington ("paris, jan., ") he writes: "_common sense_ is writing for you a brochure where you will see a part of my adventures." it thus appears that the narrative embodied in the reply to burke ("rights of man," part i.), dedicated to washington, was begun with lafayette's collaboration fourteen months before its publication (march , ). in another letter of lafayette to washington (march , ) he writes: "to mr. paine, who leaves for london, i entrust the care of sending you my news.... permit me, my dear general, to offer you a picture representing the bastille as it was some days after i gave the order for its demolition. i also pay you the homage of sending you the principal key of that fortress of despotism. it is a tribute i owe as a son to my adoptive father, as aide-de-camp to my general, as a missionary of liberty to his patriarch." the key was entrusted to paine, and by him to j. rut-ledge, jr., who sailed from london in may. i have found in the manuscript despatches of louis otto, chargé d' affaires, several amusing paragraphs, addressed to his govern-ment at paris, about this key. "august , . in attending yesterday the public audience of the president, i was surprised by a question from the chief magistrate, 'whether i would like to see the key of the bastille?' one of his secretaries showed me at the same moment a large key, which had been sent to the president by desire of the marquis de la fayette. i dissembled my surprise in observing to the president that 'the time had not yet come in america to do ironwork equal to that before him.' the americans present looked at the key with indifference, and as if wondering why it had been sent but the serene face of the president showed that he regarded it as an homage from the french nation." "december , . the key of the bastille, regularly shown at the president's audiences, is now also on exhibition in mrs. washington's _salon_, where it satisfies the curiosity of the philadelphians. i am persuaded, monseigneur, that it is only their vanity that finds pleasure in the exhibition of this trophy, but frenchmen here are not the less piqued, and many will not enter the president's house on this account." in sending the key paine, who saw farther than these distant frenchmen, wrote to washington: "that the principles of america opened the bastille is not to be doubted, and therefore the key comes to the right place." early in may, (the exact date is not given), lafayette writes washington: "i send you the rather indifferent translation of mr. paine as a kind of preservative and to keep me near you." this was a hasty translation of "rights of man," part i., by f. soûles, presently superseded by that of lanthenas. the first convert of paine to pure republicanism in france was achille duchâtelet, son of the duke, and grandson of the authoress,--the friend of voltaire. it was he and paine who, after the flight of louis xvi., placarded paris with the proclamation of a republic, given as the first chapter of this volume. an account of this incident is here quoted from etienne dumont's "recollections of mirabeau": "the celebrated paine was at this time in paris, and intimate in condorcet's family. thinking that he had effected the american revolution, he fancied himself called upon to bring about one in france. duchâtelet called on me, and after a little preface placed in my hand an english manuscript--a proclamation to the french people. it was nothing less than an anti-royalist manifesto, and summoned the nation to seize the opportunity and establish a republic. paine was its author. duchâtelet had adopted and was resolved to sign, placard the walls of paris with it, and take the consequences. he had come to request me to translate and develop it. i began discussing the strange proposal, and pointed out the danger of raising a republican standard without concurrence of the national assembly, and nothing being as yet known of the king's intentions, resources, alliances, and possibilities of support by the army, and in the provinces. i asked if he had consulted any of the most influential leaders,--sieves, lafayette, etc. he had not: he and paine had acted alone. an american and an impulsive nobleman had put themselves forward to change the whole governmental system of france. resisting his entreaties, i refused to translate the proclamation. next day the republican proclamation appeared on the walls in every part of paris, and was denounced to the assembly. the idea of a republic had previously presented itself to no one: this first intimation filled with consternation the right and the moderates of the left. malouet, cazales, and others proposed prosecution of the author, but chapelier, and a numerous party, fearing to add fuel to the fire instead of extinguishing it, prevented this. but some of the seed sown by the audacious hand of paine were now budding in leading minds." a republican club was formed in july, consisting of five members, the others who joined themselves to paine and duchâtelet being condorcet, and probably lanthenas (translator of paine's works), and nicolas de bonneville. they advanced so far as to print "le républicain," of which, however, only one number ever appeared. from it is taken the second piece in this volume. early in the year paine lodged in the house and book-shop of thomas "clio" rickman, now as then upper marylebone street. among his friends was the mystical artist and poet, william blake. paine had become to him a transcendental type; he is one of the seven who appear in blake's "prophecy" concerning america ( ): "the guardian prince of albion burns in his nightly tent sullen fires across the atlantic glow to america's shore; piercing the souls of warlike men, who rise in silent night:-- washington, franklin, paine, and warren, gates, hancock, and greene, meet on the coast glowing with blood from albion's fiery prince." the seven are wrapt in the flames of their enthusiasm. albion's prince sends to america his thirteen angels, who, however, there become governors of the thirteen states. it is difficult to discover from blake's mystical visions how much political radicalism was in him, but he certainly saved paine from the scaffold by forewarning him (september , ) that an order had been issued for his arrest. without repeating the story told in gilchrist's "life of blake," and in my "life of paine," i may add here my belief that paine also appears in one of blake's pictures. the picture is in the national gallery (london), and called "the spiritual form of pitt guiding behemoth." the monster jaws of behemoth are full of struggling men, some of whom stretch imploring hands to another spiritual form, who reaches down from a crescent moon in the sky, as if to rescue them. this face and form appear to me certainly meant for paine. acting on blake's warning paine's friends got him off to dover, where, after some trouble, related in a letter to dundas (see p. of this volume), he reached calais. he had been elected by four departments to the national convention, and selected calais, where he was welcomed with grand civic parades. on september , , he arrived in paris, stopping at "white's hotel," passage des pétits pères, about five minutes' walk from the salle de manége, where, on september st, the national convention opened its sessions. the spot is now indicated by a tablet on the wall of the tuileries garden, rue de rivoli. on that day paine was introduced to the convention by the abbé grégoire, and received with acclamation. the french minister in london, chauvelin, had sent to his government (still royalist) a despatch unfavorable to paine's work in england, part of which i translate: "may , . an association [for parliamentary reform, see pp. , , of this volume] has been formed to seek the means of forwarding the demand. it includes some distinguished members of the commons, and a few peers. the writings of m. payne which preceded this association by a few days have done it infinite harm. people suspect under the veil of a reform long demanded by justice and reason an intention to destroy a constitution equally dear to the peers whose privileges it consecrates, to the wealthy whom it protects, and to the entire nation, to which it assures all the liberty desired by a people methodical and slow in character, and who, absorbed in their commercial interests, do not like being perpetually worried about the imbecile george iii. or public affairs. vainly have the friends of reform protested their attachment to the constitution. vainly they declare that they desire to demand nothing, to obtain nothing, save in lawful ways. they are persistently disbelieved. payne alone is seen in all their movements; and this author has not, like mackintosh, rendered imposing his refutation of burke. the members of the association, although very different in principles, find themselves involved in the now almost general disgrace of payne." m. noël writes from london, november , , to the republican minister, le brun, concerning the approaching trial of paine, which had been fixed for december th. "this matter above all excites the liveliest interest. people desire to know whether they live in a free country, where criticism even of government is a right of every citizen. whatever may be the decision in this interesting trial, the result can only be fortunate for the cause of liberty. but the government cannot conceal from itself that it is suspended over a volcano. the wild dissipations of the king's sons add to the discontent, and if something is overlooked in the prince of wales, who is loved enough, it is not so with the duke of york, who has few friends. the latter has so many debts that at this moment the receivers are in his house, and the creditors wish even his bed to be seized. you perceive, citizen, what a text fruitful in reflexions this conduct presents to a people groaning under the weight of taxes for the support of such whelps (_louvetaux_)." under date of december , , m. noël writes: "london is perfectly tranquil. the arbitrary measures taken by the government in advance [of paine's trial] cause no anxiety to the mass of the nation about its liberties. some dear-headed people see well that the royal prerogative will gain in this crisis, and that it is dangerous to leave executive power to become arbitrary at pleasure; but this very small number groan in silence, and dare not speak for fear of seeing their property pillaged or burned by what the miserable hirelings of government call 'loyal mob,' or 'church and king mob.' to the 'addressers,' of whom i wrote you, are added the associations for maintaining the constitution they are doing all they can to destroy. there is no corporation, no parish, which is not mustered for this object. all have assembled, one on the other, to press against those whom they call 'the republicans and the levellers,' the most inquisitorial measures. among other parishes, one (s. james' vestry room) distinguishes itself by a decree worthy of the sixteenth century. it promises twenty guineas reward to any one who shall denounce those who in conversation or otherwise propagate opinions contrary to the public tranquillity, and places the denouncer under protection of the parish. the inhabitants of london are now placed under a new kind of _test_, and those who refuse it will undoubtedly be persecuted. meantime these papers are carried from house to house to be signed, especially by those lodging as strangers. this _test_ causes murmurs, and some try to evade signature, but the number is few. the example of the capital is generally followed. the trial of payne, which at one time seemed likely to cause events, has ended in the most peaceful way. erskine has been borne to his house by people shouting _god save the king! erskine forever!_ the friends of liberty generally are much dissatisfied with the way in which he has defended his client. they find that he threw himself into commonplaces which could make his eloquence shine, but guarded himself well from going to the bottom of the question. vane especially, a distinguished advocate and zealous democrat, is furious against erskine. it is now for payne to defend himself. but whatever he does, he will have trouble enough to reverse the opinion. the jury's verdict is generally applauded: a mortal blow is dealt to freedom of thought. people sing in the streets, even at midnight, _god save the king and damn tom payne!_" ( ) the despatches from which these translations are made are in the archives of the department of state at paris, series marked _angleterre_ vol. . the student of that period will find some instruction in a collection, now in the british museum, of coins and medals mostly struck after the trial and outlawry of paine. a halfpenny, january , : _obverse_, a man hanging on a gibbet, with church in the distance; motto "end of pain"; _reverse_, open book inscribed "the wrongs of man." a token: bust of paine, with his name; _reverse_, "the mountain in labour, ." farthing: paine gibbeted; _reverse_, breeches burning, legend, "pandora's breeches"; beneath, serpent decapitated by a dagger, the severed head that of paine. similar farthing, but _reverse_, combustibles intermixed with labels issuing from a globe marked "fraternity"; the labels inscribed "regicide," "robbery," "falsity," "requisition"; legend, "french reforms, "; near by, a church with flag, on it a cross. half-penny without date, but no doubt struck in , when a rumor reached london that paine had been guillotined: paine gibbeted; above, devil smoking a pipe; _reverse_, monkey dancing; legend, "we dance, paine swings." farthing: three men hanging on a gallows; "the three thomases, ." _reverse_, "may the three knaves of jacobin clubs never get a trick." the three thomases were thomas paine, thomas muir, and thomas spence. in spence was imprisoned seven months for publishing some of paine's works at his so-called "hive of liberty." muir, a scotch lawyer, was banished to botany bay for fourteen years for having got up in edinburgh ( ) a "convention," in imitation of that just opened in paris; two years later he escaped from botany bay on an american ship, and found his way to paine in paris. among these coins there are two of opposite character. a farthing represents pitt on a gibbet, against which rests a ladder; inscription, "end of p [here an eye] t." _reverse_, face of pitt conjoined with that of the devil, and legend, "even fellows." another farthing like the last, except an added legend, "such is the reward of tyrants, ." these anti-pitt farthings were struck by thomas spence. in the winter of - the only reign of terror was in england. the ministry had replied to paine's "rights of man" by a royal proclamation against seditious literature, surrounding london with militia, and calling a meeting of parliament (december, ) out of season. even before the trial of paine his case was prejudged by the royal proclamation, and by the addresses got up throughout the country in response,--documents which elicited paine's address to the addressers, chapter ix. in this volume. the tory gentry employed roughs to burn paine in effigy throughout the country, and to harry the nonconformists. dr. priestley's house was gutted. mr. fox (december , ) reminded the house of commons that all the mobs had "church and king" for their watchword, no mob having been heard of for "the rights of man"; and he vainly appealed to the government to prosecute the dangerous libels against dissenters as they were prosecuting paine's work. burke, who in the extra session of parliament for the first time took his seat on the treasury bench, was reminded that he had once "exulted at the victories of that rebel washington," and welcomed franklin. "franklin," he said, "was a native of america; paine was born in england, and lived under the protection of our laws; but, instigated by his evil genius, he conspired against the very country which gave him birth, by attempting to introduce the new and pernicious doctrines of republicans." in the course of the same harangue, burke alluded to the english and irish deputations, then in paris, which had congratulated the convention on the defeat of the invaders of the republic. among them he named lord semphill, john frost, d. adams, and "joel--joel the prophet" (joel barlow). these men were among those who, towards the close of , formed a sort of paine club at "philadelphia house"--as white's hotel was now called. the men gathered around paine, as the exponent of republican principles, were animated by a passion for liberty which withheld no sacrifice. some of them threw away wealth and rank as trifles. at a banquet of the club, at philadelphia house, november , , where paine presided, lord edward fitzgerald and sir robert smyth, baronet, formally renounced their titles. sir robert proposed the toast, "a speedy abolition of all hereditary titles and feudal distinctions." another toast was, "paine--and the new way of making good books known by a royal proclamation and a king's bench prosecution." there was also franklin's friend, benjamin vaughan, member of parliament, who, compromised by an intercepted letter, took refuge in paris under the name of jean martin. other englishmen were rev. jeremiah joyce, a unitarian minister and author (coadjutor of dr. gregory in his "cyclopaedia "); henry redhead yorke, a west indian with some negro blood (afterwards an agent of pitt, under whom he had been imprisoned); robert merry, husband of the actress "miss brunton"; sayer, rayment, macdonald, perry. sampson perry of london, having attacked the government in his journal, "the argus," fled from an indictment, and reached paris in january, . these men, who for a time formed at philadelphia house their parliament of man, were dashed by swift storms on their several rocks. sir robert smyth was long a prisoner under the reign of terror, and died ( ) of the illness thereby contracted. lord edward fitzgerald was slain while trying to kindle a revolution in ireland. perry was a prisoner in the luxembourg, and afterwards in london. john frost, a lawyer (struck off the roll), ventured back to london, where he was imprisoned six months in newgate, sitting in the pillory at charing cross one hour per day. robert merry went to baltimore, where he died in . nearly all of these men suffered griefs known only to the "man without a country." sampson perry, who in published an interesting "history of the french revolution," has left an account of his visit to paine in january, : "i breakfasted with paine about this time at the philadelphia hotel, and asked him which province in america he conceived the best calculated for a fugitive to settle in, and, as it were, to begin the world with no other means or pretensions than common sense and common honesty. whether he saw the occasion and felt the tendency of this question i know not; but he turned it aside by the political news of the day, and added that he was going to dine with petion, the mayor, and that he knew i should be welcome and be entertained. we went to the mayoralty in a hackney coach, and were seated at a table about which were placed the following persons: petion, the mayor of paris, with his female relation who did the honour of the table; dumourier, the commander-in-chief of the french forces, and one of his aides-de-camp; santerre, the commandant of the armed force of paris, and an aide-de-camp; condorcet; brissot; gaudet; genson-net; danton; rersaint; clavière; vergniaud; and syèyes; which, with three other persons, whose names i do not now recollect, and including paine and myself, made in all nineteen." paine found warm welcome in the home of achille du-châtelet, who with him had first proclaimed the republic, and was now a general. madame duchâtelet was an english lady of rank, charlotte comyn, and english was fluently spoken in the family. they resided at auteuil, not far from the abbé moulet, who preserved an arm-chair with the inscription, _benjamin franklin hic sedebat_, paine was a guest of the duchâtelets soon after he got to work in the convention, as i have just discovered by a letter addressed "to citizen le brun, minister of foreign affairs, paris." "auteuil, friday, the th december, . i enclose an irish newspaper which has been sent me from belfast. it contains the address of the society of united irishmen of dublin (of which society i am a member) to the volunteers of ireland. none of the english newspapers that i have seen have ventured to republish this address, and as there is no other copy of it than this which i send you, i request you not to let it go out of your possession. before i received this newspaper i had drawn up a statement of the affairs of ireland, which i had communicated to my friend general duchâtelet at auteuil, where i now am. i wish to confer with you on that subject, but as i do not speak french, and as the matter requires confidence, general duchâtelet has desired me to say that if you can make it convenient to dine with him and me at auteuil, he will with pleasure do the office of interpreter. i send this letter by my servant, but as it may not be convenient to you to give an answer directly, i have told him not to wait--thomas paine." it will be noticed that paine now keeps his servant, and drives to the mayor's dinner in a hackney coach. a portrait painted in paris about this time, now owned by mr. alfred howlett of syracuse, n. y., shows him in elegant costume. it is mournful to reflect, even at this distance, that only a little later both paine and his friend general duchâtelet were prisoners. the latter poisoned himself in prison ( ). the illustrative notes and documents which it seems best to set before the reader at the outset may here terminate. as in the previous volumes the writings are, as a rule, given in chronological sequence, but an exception is now made in respect of paine's religious writings, some of which antedate essays in the present volume. the religious writings are reserved for the fourth and final volume, to which will be added an appendix containing paine's poems, scientific fragments, and several letters of general interest. i. the republican proclamation.( ) "brethren and fellow citizens: "the serene tranquillity, the mutual confidence which prevailed amongst us, during the time of the late king's escape, the indifference with which we beheld him return, are unequivocal proofs that the absence of a king is more desirable than his presence, and that he is not only a political superfluity, but a grievous burden, pressing hard on the whole nation. "let us not be imposed on by sophisms; all that concerns this is reduced to four points. "he has abdicated the throne in having fled from his post. abdication and desertion are not characterized by the length of absence; but by the single act of flight. in the present instance, the act is everything, and the time nothing. "the nation can never give back its confidence to a man who, false to his trust, perjured to his oath, conspires a clandestine flight, obtains a fraudulent passport, conceals a king of france under the disguise of a valet, directs his course towards a frontier covered with traitors and deserters, and evidently meditates a return into our country, with a force capable of imposing his own despotic laws. "should his flight be considered as his own act, or the act of those who fled with him? was it a spontaneous resolution of his own, or was it inspired by others? the alternative is immaterial; whether fool or hypocrite, idiot or traitor, he has proved himself equally unworthy of the important functions that had been delegated to him. see introduction to this volume. this manifesto with which paris was found placarded on july , , is described by dumont as a "republican proclamation," but what its literal caption was i have not found.--_editor_. "in every sense in which the question can be considered, the reciprocal obligation which subsisted between us is dissolved. he holds no longer any authority. we owe him no longer obedience. we see in him no more than an indifferent person; we can regard him only as louis capet. "the history of france presents little else than a long series of public calamity, which takes its source from the vices of kings; we have been the wretched victims that have never ceased to suffer either for them or by them. the catalogue of their oppressions was complete, but to complete the sum of their crimes, treason was yet wanting. now the only vacancy is filled up, the dreadful list is full; the system is exhausted; there are no remaining errors for them to commit; their reign is consequently at an end. "what kind of office must that be in a government which requires for its execution neither experience nor ability, that may be abandoned to the desperate chance of birth, that may be filled by an idiot, a madman, a tyrant, with equal effect as by the good, the virtuous, and the wise? an office of this nature is a mere nonentity; it is a place of show, not of use. let france then, arrived at the age of reason, no longer be deluded by the sound of words, and let her deliberately examine, if a king, however insignificant and contemptible in himself, may not at the same time be extremely dangerous. "the thirty millions which it costs to support a king in the eclat of stupid brutal luxury, presents us with an easy method of reducing taxes, which reduction would at once relieve the people, and stop the progress of political corruption. the grandeur of nations consists, not, as kings pretend, in the splendour of thrones, but in a conspicuous sense of their own dignity, and in a just disdain of those barbarous follies and crimes which, under the sanction of royalty, have hitherto desolated europe. "as to the personal safety of louis capet, it is so much the more confirmed, as france will not stoop to degrade herself by a spirit of revenge against a wretch who has dishonoured himself. in defending a just and glorious cause, it is not possible to degrade it, and the universal tranquillity which prevails is an undeniable proof that a free people know how to respect themselves." ii. to the authors of "le r�publicain."( ) gentlemen: m. duchâtelet has mentioned to me the intention of some persons to commence a work under the title of "the republican." as i am a citizen of a country which knows no other majesty than that of the people; no other government than that of the representative body; no other sovereignty than that of the laws, and which is attached to _france_ both by alliance and by gratitude, i voluntarily offer you my services in support of principles as honorable to a nation as they are adapted to promote the happiness of mankind. i offer them to you with the more zeal, as i know the moral, literary, and political character of those who are engaged in the undertaking, and find myself honoured in their good opinion. but i must at the same time observe, that from ignorance of the french language, my works must necessarily undergo a translation; they can of course be of but little utility, and my offering must consist more of wishes than services. i must add, that i am obliged to pass a part of this summer in england and ireland. as the public has done me the unmerited favor of recognizing me under the appellation of "common sense," which is my usual signature, i shall continue it in this publication to avoid mistakes, and to prevent my being supposed the author of works not my own. as to my political principles, i shall endeavour, in this letter, to trace their general features in such a manner, as that they cannot be misunderstood. "le républicain; ou le défenseur du gouvernement représentatif. par une société des républicains. a paris. july, ." see introduction to this volume.--_editor_. it is desirable in most instances to avoid that which may give even the least suspicion as to the part meant to be adopted, and particularly on the present occasion, where a perfect clearness of expression is necessary to the avoidance of any possible misinterpretation. i am happy, therefore, to find, that the work in question is entitled "the republican." this word expresses perfectly the idea which we ought to have of government in general--_res publico_,--the public affairs of a nation. as to the word _monarchy_, though the address and intrigue of courts have rendered it familiar, it does not contain the less of reproach or of insult to a nation. the word, in its immediate or original sense, signifies _the absolute power of a single individual_, who may prove a fool, an hypocrite, or a tyrant. the appellation admits of no other interpretation than that which is here given. france is therefore not a _monarchy_; it is insulted when called by that name. the servile spirit which characterizes this species of government is banished from france, and this country, like america, can now afford to monarchy no more than a glance of disdain. of the errors which monarchic ignorance or knavery has spread through the world, the one which bears the marks of the most dexterous invention, is the opinion that the system of _republicanism_ is only adapted to a small country, and that a _monarchy_ is suited, on the contrary, to those of greater extent. such is the language of courts, and such the sentiments which they have caused to be adopted in monarchic countries; but the opinion is contrary, at the same time, to principle and to experience. the government, to be of real use, should possess a complete knowledge of all the parties, all the circumstances, and all the interests of a nation. the monarchic system, in consequence, instead of being suited to a country of great extent, would be more admissible in a small territory, where an individual may be supposed to know the affairs and the interests of the whole. but when it is attempted to extend this individual knowledge to the affairs of a great country, the capacity of knowing bears no longer any proportion to the extent or multiplicity of the objects which ought to be known, and the government inevitably falls from ignorance into tyranny. for the proof of this position we need only look to spain, russia, germany, turkey, and the whole of the eastern continent,--countries, for the deliverance of which i offer my most sincere wishes. on the contrary, the true _republican_ system, by election and representation, offers the only means which are known, and, in my opinion, the only means which are possible, of proportioning the wisdom and the information of a government to the extent of a country. the system of _representation_ is the strongest and most powerful center that can be devised for a nation. its attraction acts so powerfully, that men give it their approbation even without reasoning on the cause; and france, however distant its several parts, finds itself at this moment _an whole_, in its _central_ representation. the citizen is assured that his rights are protected, and the soldier feels that he is no longer the slave of a despot, but that he is become one of the nation, and interested of course in its defence. the states at present styled _republican_, as holland, genoa, venice, berne, &c. are not only unworthy the name, but are actually in opposition to every principle of a _republican_ government, and the countries submitted to their power are, truly speaking, subject to an _aristocratic_ slavery! it is, perhaps, impossible, in the first steps which are made in a revolution, to avoid all kind of error, in principle or in practice, or in some instances to prevent the combination of both. before the sense of a nation is sufficiently enlightened, and before men have entered into the habits of a free communication with each other of their natural thoughts, a certain reserve--a timid prudence seizes on the human mind, and prevents it from obtaining its level with that vigor and promptitude that belongs to _right_.--an example of this influence discovers itself in the commencement of the present revolution: but happily this discovery has been made before the constitution was completed, and in time to provide a remedy. the _hereditary succession_ can never exist as a matter of _right_; it is a _nullity_--a _nothing_. to admit the idea is to regard man as a species of property belonging to some individuals, either born or to be born! it is to consider our descendants, and all posterity, as mere animals without a right or will! it is, in fine, the most base and humiliating idea that ever degraded the human species, and which, for the honor of humanity, should be destroyed for ever. the idea of hereditary succession is so contrary to the rights of man, that if we were ourselves to be recalled to existence, instead of being replaced by our posterity, we should not have the right of depriving ourselves beforehand of those _rights_ which would then properly belong to us. on what ground, then, or by what authority, do we dare to deprive of their rights those children who will soon be men? why are we not struck with the injustice which we perpetrate on our descendants, by endeavouring to transmit them as a vile herd to masters whose vices are all that can be foreseen. whenever the _french_ constitution shall be rendered conformable to its _declaration of rights_, we shall then be enabled to give to france, and with justice, the appellation of a _civic empire_; for its government will be the empire of laws founded on the great republican principles of _elective representation_, and the _rights of man_.--but monarchy and hereditary succession are incompatible with the _basis_ of its constitution. i hope that i have at present sufficiently proved to you that i am a good republican; and i have such a confidence in the truth of the principles, that i doubt not they will soon be as universal in _france_ as in _america_. the pride of human nature will assist their evidence, will contribute to their establishment, and men will be ashamed of monarchy. i am, with respect, gentlemen, your friend, thomas paine. paris, june, . iii. to the abb� si�yes.( ) paris, th july, . sir, at the moment of my departure for england, i read, in the _moniteur_ of tuesday last, your letter, in which you give the challenge, on the subject of government, and offer to defend what is called the _monarchical opinion_ against the republican system. i accept of your challenge with pleasure; and i place such a confidence in the superiority of the republican system over that nullity of a system, called _monarchy_, that i engage not to exceed the extent of fifty pages, and to leave you the liberty of taking as much latitude as you may think proper. the respect which i bear your moral and literary reputation, will be your security for my candour in the course of this discussion; but, notwithstanding that i shall treat the subject seriously and sincerely, let me promise, that i consider myself at liberty to ridicule, as they deserve, monarchical absurdities, whensoever the occasion shall present itself. by republicanism, i do not understand what the name signifies in holland, and in some parts of italy. i understand simply a government by representation--a government founded upon the principles of the declaration of rights; principles to which several parts of the french constitution arise in contradiction. the declaration of rights of france and america are but one and the same thing in principles, and almost in expressions; and this is the republicanism which i undertake to defend against what is called _monarchy_ and _aristocracy_. written to the _moniteur_ in reply to a letter of the abbé (july ) elicited by paine's letter to "le républicain" (ii.). the abbé now declining a controversy, paine dealt with his views in "rights of man," part il, ch. .-- _editor_. i see with pleasure that in respect to one point we are already agreed; and _that is, the extreme danger of a civil list of thirty millions_. i can discover no reason why one of the parts of the government should be supported with so extravagant a profusion, whilst the other scarcely receives what is sufficient for its common wants. this dangerous and dishonourable disproportion at once supplies the one with the means of corrupting, and throws the other into the predicament of being corrupted. in america there is but little difference, with regard to this point, between the legislative and the executive part of our government; but the first is much better attended to than it is in france. in whatsoever manner, sir, i may treat the subject of which you have proposed the investigation, i hope that you will not doubt my entertaining for you the highest esteem. i must also add, that i am not the personal enemy of kings. quite the contrary. no man more heartily wishes than myself to see them all in the happy and honourable state of private individuals; but i am the avowed, open, and intrepid enemy of what is called monarchy; and i am such by principles which nothing can either alter or corrupt--by my attachment to humanity; by the anxiety which i feel within myself, for the dignity and the honour of the human race; by the disgust which i experience, when i observe men directed by children, and governed by brutes; by the horror which all the evils that monarchy has spread over the earth excite within my breast; and by those sentiments which make me shudder at the calamities, the exactions, the wars, and the massacres with which monarchy has crushed mankind: in short, it is against all the hell of monarchy that i have declared war. thomas paine.( ) to the sixth paragraph of the above letter is appended a footnote: "a deputy to the congress receives about a guinea and a half daily: and provisions are cheaper in america than in france." the american declaration of rights referred to unless the declaration of independence, was no doubt, especially that of pennsylvania, which paine helped to frame.--editor. iv. to the attorney general. [undated, but probably late in may, .] sir, though i have some reason for believing that you were not the original promoter or encourager of the prosecution commenced against the work entitled "rights of man" either as that prosecution is intended to affect the author, the publisher, or the public; yet as you appear the official person therein, i address this letter to you, not as sir archibald macdonald, but as attorney general. you began by a prosecution against the publisher jordan, and the reason assigned by mr. secretary dundas, in the house of commons, in the debate on the proclamation, may , for taking that measure, was, he said, because mr. paine could not be found, or words to that effect. mr. paine, sir, so far from secreting himself, never went a step out of his way, nor in the least instance varied from his usual conduct, to avoid any measure you might choose to adopt with respect to him. it is on the purity of his heart, and the universal utility of the principles and plans which his writings contain, that he rests the issue; and he will not dishonour it by any kind of subterfuge. the apartments which he occupied at the time of writing the work last winter, he has continued to occupy to the present hour, and the solicitors of the prosecution knew where to find him; of which there is a proof in their own office, as far back as the st of may, and also in the office of my own attorney.( ) paine was residing at the house of one of his publishers, thomas rickman, upper marylebone street, london. his attorney was the hon. thomas erskine.--_editor_. but admitting, for the sake of the case, that the reason for proceeding against the publisher was, as mr. dundas stated, that mr. paine could not be found, that reason can now exist no longer. the instant that i was informed that an information was preparing to be filed against me, as the author of, i believe, one of the most useful and benevolent books ever offered to mankind, i directed my attorney to put in an appearance; and as i shall meet the prosecution fully and fairly, and with a good and upright conscience, i have a right to expect that no act of littleness will be made use of on the part of the prosecution towards influencing the future issue with respect to the author. this expression may, perhaps, appear obscure to you, but i am in the possession of some matters which serve to shew that the action against the publisher is not intended to be a _real_ action. if, therefore, any persons concerned in the prosecution have found their cause so weak, as to make it appear convenient to them to enter into a negociation with the publisher, whether for the purpose of his submitting to a verdict, and to make use of the verdict so obtained as a circumstance, by way of precedent, on a future trial against myself; or for any other purpose not fully made known to me; if, i say, i have cause to suspect this to be the case, i shall most certainly withdraw the defence i should otherwise have made, or promoted on his (the publisher's) behalf, and leave the negociators to themselves, and shall reserve the whole of the defence for the _real_ trial.( ) but, sir, for the purpose of conducting this matter with at least the appearance of fairness and openness, that shall justify itself before the public, whose cause it really is, (for it is the right of public discussion and investigation that is questioned,) i have to propose to you to cease the prosecution against the publisher; and as the reason or pretext can no longer exist for continuing it against him because mr. paine could not be found, that you would direct the whole process against me, with whom the prosecuting party will not find it possible to enter into any private negociation. a detailed account of the proceedings with regard to the publisher will be found infra, in ix., letter to the addressers.--_editor_. i will do the cause full justice, as well for the sake of the nation, as for my own reputation. another reason for discontinuing the process against the publisher is, because it can amount to nothing. first, because a jury in london cannot decide upon the fact of publishing beyond the limits of the jurisdiction of london, and therefore the work may be republished over and over again in every county in the nation, and every case must have a separate process; and by the time that three or four hundred prosecutions have been had, the eyes of the nation will then be fully open to see that the work in question contains a plan the best calculated to root out all the abuses of government, and to lessen the taxes of the nation upwards of _six millions annually_. secondly, because though the gentlemen of london may be very expert in understanding their particular professions and occupations, and how to make business contracts with government beneficial to themselves as individuals, the rest of the nation may not be disposed to consider them sufficiently qualified nor authorized to determine for the whole nation on plans of reform, and on systems and principles of government. this would be in effect to erect a jury into a national convention, instead of electing a convention, and to lay a precedent for the probable tyranny of juries, under the pretence of supporting their rights. that the possibility always exists of packing juries will not be denied; and, therefore, in all cases, where government is the prosecutor, more especially in those where the right of public discussion and investigation of principles and systems of government is attempted to be suppressed by a verdict, or in those where the object of the work that is prosecuted is the reform of abuse and the abolition of sinecure places and pensions, in all these cases the verdict of a jury will itself become a subject of discussion; and therefore, it furnishes an additional reason for discontinuing the prosecution against the publisher, more especially as it is not a secret that there has been a negociation with him for secret purposes, and for proceeding against me only. i shall make a much stronger defence than what i believe the treasury solicitor's agreement with him will permit him to do. i believe that mr. burke, finding himself defeated, and not being able to make any answer to the _rights of man_, has been one of the promoters of this prosecution; and i shall return the compliment to him by shewing, in a future publication, that he has been a masked pensioner at l. per annum for about ten years. thus it is that the public money is wasted, and the dread of public investigation is produced. i am, sir, your obedient humble servant, thomas paine.( ) paine's case was set down for june th, and on that day he appeared in court; but, much to his disappointment, the trial was adjourned to december th, at which time he was in his place in the national convention at paris.--_editor_. v. to mr. secretary dundas.( ) london, june , . sir, as you opened the debate in the house of commons, may th, on the proclamation for suppressing publications, which that proclamation (without naming any) calls wicked and seditious: and as you applied those opprobious epithets to the works entitled "rights of man," i think it unnecessary to offer any other reason for addressing this letter to you. i begin, then, at once, by declaring, that i do not believe there are found in the writings of any author, ancient or modern, on the subject of government, a spirit of greater benignity, and a stronger inculcation of moral principles than in those which i have published. they come, sir, from a man, who, by having lived in different countries, and under different systems of government, and who, being intimate in the construction of them, is a better judge of the subject than it is possible that you, from the want of those opportunities, can be:--and besides this, they come from a heart that knows not how to beguile. i will farther say, that when that moment arrives in which the best consolation that shall be left will be looking back on some past actions, more virtuous and more meritorious than the rest, i shall then with happiness remember, among other things, i have written the rights of man.---as to what proclamations, or prosecutions, or place-men, and place-expectants,--those who possess, or those who are gaping for office,--may say of them, it will not alter their character, either with the world or with me. henry d. (afterwards viscount melville), appointed secretary for the home department, . in he was impeached by the commons for "gross malversation" while treasurer of the navy; he was acquitted by the lords ( ), but not by public sentiment or by history.-- _editor_. having, sir, made this declaration, i shall proceed to remark, not particularly on your speech on that occasion, but on any one to which your motion on that day gave rise; and i shall begin with that of mr. adam. this gentleman accuses me of not having done the very thing that _i have done_, and which, he says, if i _had_ done, he should not have accused me. mr. adam, in his speech, (see the morning chronicle of may ,) says, "that he had well considered the subject of constitutional publications, and was by no means ready to say (but the contrary) that books of science upon government though recommending a doctrine or system different from the form of our constitution (meaning that of england) were fit objects of prosecution; that if he did, he must condemn harrington for his oceana, sir thomas more for his eutopia, and hume for his idea of a perfect commonwealth. but (continued mr. adam) the publication of mr. paine was very different; for it reviled what was most sacred in the constitution, destroyed every principle of subordination, and _established nothing in their room_." i readily perceive that mr. adam has not read the second part of _rights of man_, and i am put under the necessity, either of submitting to an erroneous charge, or of justifying myself against it; and certainly shall prefer the latter.--if, then, i shall prove to mr. adam, that in my reasoning upon systems of government, in the second part of _rights of man_, i have shown as clearly, i think, as words can convey ideas, a certain system of government, and that not existing in theory only, but already in full and established practice, and systematically and practically free from all the vices and defects of the english government, and capable of producing more happiness to the people, and that also with an eightieth part of the taxes, which the present english system of government consumes; i hope he will do me the justice, when he next goes to the house, to get up and confess he had been mistaken in saying, that i had _established nothing, and that i had destroyed every principle of subordination_. having thus opened the case, i now come to the point. in the second part of the rights of man, i have distinguished government into two classes or systems: the one the hereditary system, the other the representative system. in the first part of _rights of man_, i have endeavoured to shew, and i challenge any man to refute it, that there does not exist a right to establish hereditary government; or, in other words, hereditary governors; because hereditary government always means a government yet to come, and the case always is, that the people who are to live afterwards, have always the same right to choose a government for themselves, as the people had who lived before them. in the second part of _rights of man_, i have not repeated those arguments, because they are irrefutable; but have confined myself to shew the defects of what is called hereditary government, or hereditary succession, that it must, from the nature of it, throw government into the hands of men totally unworthy of it, from want of principle, or unfitted for it from want of capacity.--james the iid. is recorded as an instance of the first of these cases; and instances are to be found almost all over europe to prove the truth of the latter. to shew the absurdity of the hereditary system still more strongly, i will now put the following case:--take any fifty men promiscuously, and it will be very extraordinary, if, out of that number, one man should be found, whose principles and talents taken together (for some might have principles, and others might have talents) would render him a person truly fitted to fill any very extraordinary office of national trust. if then such a fitness of character could not be expected to be found in more than one person out of fifty, it would happen but once in a thousand years to the eldest son of any one family, admitting each, on an average, to hold the office twenty years. mr. adam talks of something in the constitution which he calls _most sacred_; but i hope he does not mean hereditary succession, a thing which appears to me a violation of every order of nature, and of common sense. when i look into history and see the multitudes of men, otherwise virtuous, who have died, and their families been ruined, in the defence of knaves and fools, and which they would not have done, had they reasoned at all upon the system; i do not know a greater good that an individual can render to mankind, than to endeavour to break the chains of political superstition. those chains are now dissolving fast, and proclamations and persecutions will serve but to hasten that dissolution. having thus spoken of the hereditary system as a bad system, and subject to every possible defect, i now come to the representative system, and this mr. adam will find stated in the second part of rights of man, not only as the best, but as the only _theory_ of government under which the liberties of the people can be permanently secure. but it is needless now to talk of mere theory, since there is already a government in full practice, established upon that theory; or in other words, upon the rights of man, and has been so for almost twenty years. mr. pitt, in a speech of his some short time since, said, "that there never did, and never could exist a government established upon those rights, and that if it began at noon, it would end at night." mr. pitt has not yet arrived at the degree of a school-boy in this species of knowledge; his practice has been confined to the means of _extorting revenue_, and his boast has been--_how much!_ whereas the boast of the system of government that i am speaking of, is not how much, but how little. the system of government purely representative, unmixed with any thing of hereditary nonsense, began in america. i will now compare the effects of that system of government with the system of government in england, both during, and since the close of the war. so powerful is the representative system, first, by combining and consolidating all the parts of a country together, however great the extent; and, secondly, by admitting of none but men properly qualified into the government, or dismissing them if they prove to be otherwise, that america was enabled thereby totally to defeat and overthrow all the schemes and projects of the hereditary government of england against her. as the establishment of the revolution and independence of america is a proof of this fact, it is needless to enlarge upon it. i now come to the comparative effect of the two systems _since_ the close of the war, and i request mr. adam to attend to it. america had internally sustained the ravages of upwards of seven years of war, which england had not. england sustained only the expence of the war; whereas america sustained not only the expence, but the destruction of property committed by _both_ armies. not a house was built during that period, and many thousands were destroyed. the farms and plantations along the coast of the country, for more than a thousand miles, were laid waste. her commerce was annihilated. her ships were either taken, or had rotted within her own harbours. the credit of her funds had fallen upwards of ninety per cent., that is, an original hundred pounds would not sell for ten pounds. in fine, she was apparently put back an hundred years when the war closed, which was not the case with england. but such was the event, that the same representative system of government, though since better organized, which enabled her to conquer, enabled her also to recover, and she now presents a more flourishing condition, and a more happy and harmonized society, under that system of government, than any country in the world can boast under any other. her towns are rebuilt, much better than before; her farms and plantations are in higher improvement than ever; her commerce is spread over the world, and her funds have risen from less than ten pounds the hundred to upwards of one hundred and twenty. mr. pitt and his colleagues talk of the things that have happened in his boyish administration, without knowing what greater things have happened elsewhere, and under other systems of government. i now come to state the expence of the two systems, as they now stand in each of the countries; but it may first be proper to observe, that government in america is what it ought to be, a matter of honour and trust, and not made a trade of for the purpose of lucre. the whole amount of the nett(sic) taxes in england (exclusive of the expence of collection, of drawbacks, of seizures and condemnation, of fines and penalties, of fees of office, of litigations and informers, which are some of the blessed means of enforcing them) is seventeen millions. of this sum, about nine millions go for the payment of the interest of the national debt, and the remainder, being about eight millions, is for the current annual expences. this much for one side of the case. i now come to the other. the expence of the several departments of the general representative government of the united states of america, extending over a space of country nearly ten times larger than england, is two hundred and ninety-four thousand, five hundred and fifty-eight dollars, which, at s. d. per dollar, is , l. s. sterling, and is thus apportioned; [illustration: table ] on account of the incursions of the indians on the back settlements, congress is at this time obliged to keep six thousand militia in pay, in addition to a regiment of foot, and a battalion of artillery, which it always keeps; and this increases the expence of the war department to , dollars, which is , l. sterling, but when peace shall be concluded with the indians, the greatest part of this expence will cease, and the total amount of the expence of government, including that of the army, will not amount to , l. sterling, which, as has been already stated, is but an eightieth part of the expences of the english government. i request mr. adam and mr. dundas, and all those who are talking of constitutions, and blessings, and kings, and lords, and the lord knows what, to look at this statement. here is a form and system of government, that is better organized and better administered than any government in the world, and that for less than one hundred thousand pounds per annum, and yet every member of congress receives, as a compensation for his time and attendance on public business, one pound seven shillings per day, which is at the rate of nearly five hundred pounds a year. this is a government that has nothing to fear. it needs no proclamations to deter people from writing and reading. it needs no political superstition to support it; it was by encouraging discussion and rendering the press free upon all subjects of government, that the principles of government became understood in america, and the people are now enjoying the present blessings under it. you hear of no riots, tumults, and disorders in that country; because there exists no cause to produce them. those things are never the effect of freedom, but of restraint, oppression, and excessive taxation. in america, there is not that class of poor and wretched people that are so numerously dispersed all over england, who are to be told by a proclamation, that they are happy; and this is in a great measure to be accounted for, not by the difference of proclamations, but by the difference of governments and the difference of taxes between that country and this. what the labouring people of that country earn, they apply to their own use, and to the education of their children, and do not pay it away in taxes as fast as they earn it, to support court extravagance, and a long enormous list of place-men and pensioners; and besides this, they have learned the manly doctrine of reverencing themselves, and consequently of respecting each other; and they laugh at those imaginary beings called kings and lords, and all the fraudulent trumpery of court. when place-men and pensioners, or those who expect to be such, are lavish in praise of a government, it is not a sign of its being a good one. the pension list alone in england (see sir john sinclair's history of the revenue, p. , of the appendix) is one hundred and seven thousand four hundred and four pounds, _which is more than the expences of the whole government of america amount to_. and i am now more convinced than before, that the offer that was made to me of a thousand pounds for the copy-right of the second part of the rights of man, together with the remaining copyright of the first part, was to have effected, by a quick suppression, what is now attempted to be done by a prosecution. the connection which the person, who made the offer, has with the king's printing-office, may furnish part of the means of inquiring into this affair, when the ministry shall please to bring their prosecution to issue.( ) but to return to my subject.-- i have said in the second part of the _rights of man_, and i repeat it here, that the service of any man, whether called king, president, senator, legislator, or any thing else, cannot be worth more to any country, in the regular routine of office, than ten thousand pounds per annum. we have a better man in america, and more of a gentleman, than any king i ever knew of, who does not occasion half that ex-pence; for, though the salary is fixed at £ he does not accept it, and it is only the incidental expences that are paid out of it.( ) the name by which a man is called is of itself but an empty thing. it is worth and character alone which can render him valuable, for without these, kings, and lords, and presidents, are but jingling names. but without troubling myself about constitutions of government, i have shewn in the second part of _rights of man_, that an alliance may be formed between england, france, and america, and that the expences of government in england may be put back to one million and a half, viz.: civil expence of government...... , l. army............................. , navy............................. , ---------- , , l. and even this sum is fifteen times greater than the expences of government are in america; and it is also greater than the whole peace establishment of england amounted to about an hundred years ago. so much has the weight and oppression of taxes increased since the revolution, and especially since the year . at paine's trial, chapman, the printer, in answer to fa question of the solicitor general, said: "i made him three separate offers in the different stages of the work; the first, i believe, was a hundred guineas, the second five hundred, and the last was a thousand."--_editor_. error. see also ante, and in vol. ii., p. . washington had retracted his original announcement, and received his salary regularly.--_editor_. to shew that the sum of , l. is sufficient to defray all civil expences of government, i have, in that work, annexed the following estimate for any country of the same extent as england.-- in the first place, three hundred representatives, fairly elected, are sufficient for all the purposes to which legislation can apply, and preferable to a larger number. if, then, an allowance, at the rate of l. per annum be made to every representative, deducting for non-attendance, the expence, if the whole number attended six months each year, would be....... , l. the official departments could not possibly exceed the following number, with the salaries annexed, viz.: [illustration: table] three offices at , l. each , ten ditto at , u , twenty ditto at , u , forty ditto at , it , two hundred ditto at u , three hundred ditto at u , five hundred ditto at u , seven hundred ditto at it , , l. if a nation chose, it might deduct four per cent, from all the offices, and make one of twenty thousand pounds per annum, and style the person who should fill it, king or madjesty, ( ) or give him any other title. taking, however, this sum of one million and a half, as an abundant supply for all the expences of government under any form whatever, there will remain a surplus of nearly six millions and a half out of the present taxes, after paying the interest of the national debt; and i have shewn in the second part of _rights of man_, what appears to me, the best mode of applying the surplus money; for i am now speaking of expences and savings, and not of systems of government. a friend of paine advised him against this pun, as too personal an allusion to george the third, to whom however much has been forgiven on account of his mental infirmity. yorke, in his account of his visit to paine, , alludes to his (paine's) anecdotes "of humor and benevolence" concerning george iii.--_editor_. i have, in the first place, estimated the poor-rates at two millions annually, and shewn that the first effectual step would be to abolish the poor-rates entirely (which would be a saving of two millions to the house-keepers,) and to remit four millions out of the surplus taxes to the poor, to be paid to them in money, in proportion to the number of children in each family, and the number of aged persons. i have estimated the number of persons of both sexes in england, of fifty years of age and upwards, at , , and have taken one third of this number, viz. , , to be poor people. to save long calculations, i have taken , of them to be upwards of fifty years of age, and under sixty, and the others to be sixty years and upwards; and to allow six pounds per annum to the former class, and ten pounds per annum to the latter. the expence of which will be, seventy thousand persons at l. per annum..... , l. seventy thousand persons at l. per annum.... , ----------- , , l. there will then remain of the four millions, , , l. i have stated two different methods of appropriating this money. the one is to pay it in proportion to the number of children in each family, at the rate of three or four pounds per annum for each child; the other is to apportion it according to the expence of living in different counties; but in either of these cases it would, together with the allowance to be made to the aged, completely take off taxes from one third of all the families in england, besides relieving all the other families from the burthen of poor-rates. the whole number of families in england, allotting five souls to each family, is one million four hundred thousand, of which i take one third, _viz_. , to be poor families who now pay four millions of taxes, and that the poorest pays at least four guineas a year; and that the other thirteen millions are paid by the other two-thirds. the plan, therefore, as stated in the work, is, first, to remit or repay, as is already stated, this sum of four millions to the poor, because it is impossible to separate them from the others in the present mode of collecting taxes on articles of consumption; and, secondly, to abolish the poor-rates, the house and window-light tax, and to change the commutation tax into a progressive tax on large estates, the particulars of all which are set forth in the work, to which i desire mr. adam to refer for particulars. i shall here content myself with saying, that to a town of the population of manchester, it will make a difference in its favour, compared with the present state of things, of upwards of fifty thousand pounds annually, and so in proportion to all other places throughout the nation. this certainly is of more consequence than that the same sums should be collected to be afterwards spent by riotous and profligate courtiers, and in nightly revels at the star and garter tavern, pall mall. i will conclude this part of my letter with an extract from the second part of the _rights of man_, which mr. dundas (a man rolling in luxury at the expence of the nation) has branded with the epithet of "wicked." "by the operation of this plan, the poor laws, those instruments of civil torture, will be superseded, and the wasteful ex-pence of litigation prevented. the hearts of the humane will not be shocked by ragged and hungry children, and persons of seventy and eighty years of age begging for bread. the dying poor will not be dragged from place to place to breathe their last, as a reprisal of parish upon parish. widows will have a maintenance for their children, and not be carted away, on the death of their husbands, like culprits and criminals; and children will no longer be considered as increasing the distresses of their parents. the haunts of the wretched will be known, because it will be to their advantage; and the number of petty crimes, the offspring of poverty and distress, will be lessened. the poor as well as the rich will then be interested in the support of government, and the cause and apprehension of riots and tumults will cease. ye who sit in ease, and solace yourselves in plenty, and such there are in turkey and russia, as well as in england, and who say to yourselves, _are we not well off_ have ye thought of these things? when ye do, ye will cease to speak and feel for yourselves alone." after this remission of four millions be made, and the poor-rates and houses and window-light tax be abolished, and the commutation tax changed, there will still remain nearly one million and a half of surplus taxes; and as by an alliance between england, france and america, armies and navies will, in a great measure, be rendered unnecessary; and as men who have either been brought up in, or long habited to, those lines of life, are still citizens of a nation in common with the rest, and have a right to participate in all plans of national benefit, it is stated in that work (_rights of man_, part ii.) to apply annually , l. out of the surplus taxes to this purpose, in the following manner: [illustration: table ] the limits to which it is proper to confine this letter, will not admit of my entering into further particulars. i address it to mr. dundas because he took the lead in the debate, and he wishes, i suppose, to appear conspicuous; but the purport of it is to justify myself from the charge which mr. adam has made. this gentleman, as has been observed in the beginning of this letter, considers the writings of harrington, more and hume, as justifiable and legal publications, because they reasoned by comparison, though in so doing they shewed plans and systems of government, not only different from, but preferable to, that of england; and he accuses me of endeavouring to confuse, instead of producing a system in the room of that which i had reasoned against; whereas, the fact is, that i have not only reasoned by comparison of the representative system against the hereditary system, but i have gone further; for i have produced an instance of a government established entirely on the representative system, under which greater happiness is enjoyed, much fewer taxes required, and much higher credit is established, than under the system of government in england. the funds in england have risen since the war only from l. to l. and they have been down since the proclamation, to l. whereas the funds in america rose in the mean time from l. to l. his charge against me of "destroying every principle of subordination," is equally as groundless; which even a single paragraph from the work will prove, and which i shall here quote: "formerly when divisions arose respecting governments, recourse was had to the sword, and a civil war ensued. that savage custom is exploded by the new system, and _recourse is had to a national convention_. discussion, and the general will, arbitrates the question, and to this private opinion yields with a good grace, and _order is preserved uninterrupted_." that two different charges should be brought at the same time, the one by a member of the legislative, for _not_ doing a certain thing, and the other by the attorney general for _doing_ it, is a strange jumble of contradictions. i have now justified myself, or the work rather, against the first, by stating the case in this letter, and the justification of the other will be undertaken in its proper place. but in any case the work will go on. i shall now conclude this letter with saying, that the only objection i found against the plan and principles contained in the second part of _rights of man_, when i had written the book, was, that they would beneficially interest at least ninety-nine persons out of every hundred throughout the nation, and therefore would not leave sufficient room for men to act from the direct and disinterested principles of honour; but the prosecution now commenced has fortunately removed that objection, and the approvers and protectors of that work now feel the immediate impulse of honour added to that of national interest. i am, mr. dundas, not your obedient humble servant, but the contrary, thomas paine. vi. letters to onslow cranley, lord lieutenant of the county of surry; on the subject of the late excellent proclamation:--or the chairman who shall preside at the meeting to be held at epsom, june . first letter. london, june th, . sir, i have seen in the public newspapers the following advertisement, to wit-- "to the nobility, gentry, clergy, freeholders, and other inhabitants of the county of surry. "at the requisition and desire of several of the freeholders of the county, i am, in the absence of the sheriff, to desire the favour of your attendance, at a meeting to be held at epsom, on monday, the th instant, at o'clock at noon, to consider of an humble address to his majesty, to express our grateful approbation of his majesty's paternal, and well-timed attendance to the public welfare, in his late most gracious proclamation against the enemies of our happy constitution. "(signed.) onslow cranley." taking it for granted, that the aforesaid advertisement, equally as obscure as the proclamation to which it refers, has nevertheless some meaning, and is intended to effect some purpose; and as a prosecution (whether wisely or unwisely, justly or unjustly) is already commenced against a work intitled rights of man, of which i have the honour and happiness to be the author; i feel it necessary to address this letter to you, and to request that it may be read publicly to the gentlemen who shall meet at epsom in consequence of the advertisement. the work now under prosecution is, i conceive, the same work which is intended to be suppressed by the aforesaid proclamation. admitting this to be the case, the gentlemen of the county of surry are called upon by somebody to condemn a work, and they are at the same time forbidden by the proclamation to know what that work is; and they are further called upon to give their aid and assistance to prevent other people from knowing it also. it is therefore necessary that the author, for his own justification, as well as to prevent the gentlemen who shall meet from being imposed upon by misrepresentation, should give some outlines of the principles and plans which that work contains. the work, sir, in question, contains, first, an investigation of general principles of government. it also distinguishes government into two classes or systems, the one the hereditary system; the other the representative system; and it compares these two systems with each other. it shews that what is called hereditary government cannot exist as a matter of right; because hereditary government always means a government yet to come; and the case always is, that those who are to live afterwards have always the same right to establish a government for themselves as the people who had lived before them. it also shews the defect to which hereditary government is unavoidably subject: that it must, from the nature of it, throw government into the hands of men totally unworthy of it from the want of principle, and unfitted for it from want of capacity. james ii. and many others are recorded in the english history as proofs of the former of those cases, and instances are to be found all over europe to prove the truth of the latter. it then shews that the representative system is the only true system of government; that it is also the only system under which the liberties of any people can be permanently secure; and, further, that it is the only one that can continue the same equal probability at all times of admitting of none but men properly qualified, both by principles and abilities, into government, and of excluding such as are otherwise. the work shews also, by plans and calculations not hitherto denied nor controverted, not even by the prosecution that is commenced, that the taxes now existing may be reduced at least six millions, that taxes may be entirely taken off from the poor, who are computed at one third of the nation; and that taxes on the other two thirds may be considerably reduced; that the aged poor may be comfortably provided for, and the children of poor families properly educated; that fifteen thousand soldiers, and the same number of sailors, may be allowed three shillings per week during life out of the surplus taxes; and also that a proportionate allowance may be made to the officers, and the pay of the remaining soldiers and sailors be raised; and that it is better to apply the surplus taxes to those purposes, than to consume them on lazy and profligate placemen and pensioners; and that the revenue, said to be twenty thousand pounds per annum, raised by a tax upon coals, and given to the duke of richmond, is a gross imposition upon all the people of london, and ought to be instantly abolished. this, sir, is a concise abstract of the principles and plans contained in the work that is now prosecuted, and for the suppression of which the proclamation appears to be intended; but as it is impossible that i can, in the compass of a letter, bring into view all the matters contained in the work, and as it is proper that the gentlemen who may compose that meeting should know what the merits or demerits of it are, before they come to any resolutions, either directly or indirectly relating thereto, i request the honour of presenting them with one hundred copies of the second part of the rights of man, and also one thousand copies of my letter to mr. dundas, which i have directed to be sent to epsom for that purpose; and i beg the favour of the chairman to take the trouble of presenting them to the gentlemen who shall meet on that occasion, with my sincere wishes for their happiness, and for that of the nation in general. having now closed thus much of the subject of my letter, i next come to speak of what has relation to me personally. i am well aware of the delicacy that attends it, but the purpose of calling the meeting appears to me so inconsistent with that justice that is always due between man and man, that it is proper i should (as well on account of the gentlemen who may meet, as on my own account) explain myself fully and candidly thereon. i have already informed the gentlemen, that a prosecution is commenced against a work of which i have the honour and happiness to be the author; and i have good reasons for believing that the proclamation which the gentlemen are called to consider, and to present an address upon, is purposely calculated to give an impression to the jury before whom that matter is to come. in short, that it is dictating a verdict by proclamation; and i consider the instigators of the meeting to be held at epsom, as aiding and abetting the same improper, and, in my opinion, illegal purpose, and that in a manner very artfully contrived, as i shall now shew. had a meeting been called of the freeholders of the county of middlesex, the gentlemen who had composed that meeting would have rendered themselves objectionable as persons to serve on a jury, before whom the judicial case was afterwards to come. but by calling a meeting out of the county of middlesex, that matter is artfully avoided, and the gentlemen of surry are summoned, as if it were intended thereby to give a tone to the sort of verdict which the instigators of the meeting no doubt wish should be brought in, and to give countenance to the jury in so doing. i am, sir, with much respect to the gentlemen who shall meet, their and your obedient and humble servant, thomas paine. to onslow cranley, commonly called lord onslow. second letter. sir, london, june st . when i wrote you the letter which mr. home tooke did me the favour to present to you, as chairman of the meeting held at epsom, monday, june , it was not with much expectation that you would do me the justice of permitting, or recommending it to be publicly read. i am well aware that the signature of thomas paine has something in it dreadful to sinecure placemen and pensioners; and when you, on seeing the letter opened, informed the meeting that it was signed thomas paine, and added in a note of exclamation, "the common enemy of us all." you spoke one of the greatest truths you ever uttered, if you confine the expression to men of the same description with yourself; men living in indolence and luxury, on the spoil and labours of the public. the letter has since appeared in the "argus," and probably in other papers.( ) it will justify itself; but if any thing on that account hath been wanting, your conduct at the meeting would have supplied the omission. you there sufficiently proved that i was not mistaken in supposing that the meeting was called to give an indirect aid to the prosecution commenced against a work, the reputation of which will long outlive the memory of the pensioner i am writing to. when meetings, sir, are called by the partisans of the court, to preclude the nation the right of investigating systems and principles of government, and of exposing errors and defects, under the pretence of prosecuting an individual--it furnishes an additional motive for maintaining sacred that violated right. the principles and arguments contained in the work in question, _rights of man_, have stood, and they now stand, and i believe ever will stand, unrefuted. they are stated in a fair and open manner to the world, and they have already received the public approbation of a greater number of men, of the best of characters, of every denomination of religion, and of every rank in life, (placemen and pensioners excepted,) than all the juries that shall meet in england, for ten years to come, will amount to; and i have, moreover, good reasons for believing that the approvers of that work, as well private as public, are already more numerous than all the present electors throughout the nation. the _argus_ was edited by sampson perry, soon after prosecuted.--_editor_. not less than forty pamphlets, intended as answers thereto, have appeared, and as suddenly disappeared: scarcely are the titles of any of them remembered, notwithstanding their endeavours have been aided by all the daily abuse which the court and ministerial newspapers, for almost a year and a half, could bestow, both upon the work and the author; and now that every attempt to refute, and every abuse has failed, the invention of calling the work a libel has been hit upon, and the discomfited party has pusillanimously retreated to prosecution and a jury, and obscure addresses. as i well know that a long letter from me will not be agreeable to you, i will relieve your uneasiness by making it as short as i conveniently can; and will conclude it with taking up the subject at that part where mr. horne tooke was interrupted from going on when at the meeting. that gentleman was stating, that the situation you stood in rendered it improper for you to appear _actively_ in a scene in which your private interest was too visible: that you were a bedchamber lord at a thousand a year, and a pensioner at three thousand pounds a year more--and here he was stopped by the little but noisy circle you had collected round. permit me then, sir, to add an explanation to his words, for the benefit of your neighbours, and with which, and a few observations, i shall close my letter. when it was reported in the english newspapers, some short time since, that the empress of russia had given to one of her minions a large tract of country and several thousands of peasants as property, it very justly provoked indignation and abhorrence in those who heard it. but if we compare the mode practised in england, with that which appears to us so abhorrent in russia, it will be found to amount to very near the same thing;--for example-- as the whole of the revenue in england is drawn by taxes from the pockets of the people, those things called gifts and grants (of which kind are all pensions and sinecure places) are paid out of that stock. the difference, therefore, between the two modes is, that in england the money is collected by the government, and then given to the pensioner, and in russia he is left to collect it for himself. the smallest sum which the poorest family in a county so near london as surry, can be supposed to pay annually, of taxes, is not less than five pounds; and as your sinecure of one thousand, and pension of three thousand per annum, are made up of taxes paid by eight hundred such poor families, it comes to the same thing as if the eight hundred families had been given to you, as in russia, and you had collected the money on your account. were you to say that you are not quartered particularly on the people of surrey, but on the nation at large, the objection would amount to nothing; for as there are more pensioners than counties, every one may be considered as quartered on that in which he lives. what honour or happiness you can derive from being the principal pauper of the neighbourhood, and occasioning a greater expence than the poor, the aged, and the infirm, for ten miles round you, i leave you to enjoy. at the same time i can see that it is no wonder you should be strenuous in suppressing a book which strikes at the root of those abuses. no wonder that you should be against reforms, against the freedom of the press, and the right of investigation. to you, and to others of your description, these are dreadful things; but you should also consider, that the motives which prompt you to _act_, ought, by reflection, to compel you to be _silent_. having now returned your compliment, and sufficiently tired your patience, i take my leave of you, with mentioning, that if you had not prevented my former letter from being read at the meeting, you would not have had the trouble of reading this; and also with requesting, that the next time you call me "_a common enemy_," you would add, "_of us sinecure placemen and pensioners_." i am, sir, &c. &c. &c. thomas paine. vii. to the sheriff of the county of sussex, or, the gentleman who shall preside at the meeting to be held at lewes, july . london, june , . sir, i have seen in the lewes newspapers, of june , an advertisement, signed by sundry persons, and also by the sheriff, for holding a meeting at the town-hall of lewes, for the purpose, as the advertisement states, of presenting an address on the late proclamation for suppressing writings, books, &c. and as i conceive that a certain publication of mine, entitled "rights of man," in which, among other things, the enormous increase of taxes, placemen, and pensioners, is shewn to be unnecessary and oppressive, _is the particular writing alluded to in the said publication_; i request the sheriff, or in his absence, whoever shall preside at the meeting, or any other person, to read this letter publicly to the company who shall assemble in consequence of that advertisement. gentlemen--it is now upwards of eighteen years since i was a resident inhabitant of the town of lewes. my situation among you, as an officer of the revenue, for more than six years, enabled me to see into the numerous and various distresses which the weight of taxes even at that time of day occasioned; and feeling, as i then did, and as it is natural for me to do, for the hard condition of others, it is with pleasure i can declare, and every person then under my survey, and now living, can witness, the exceeding candour, and even tenderness, with which that part of the duty that fell to my share was executed. the name of _thomas paine_ is not to be found in the records of the lewes' justices, in any one act of contention with, or severity of any kind whatever towards, the persons whom he surveyed, either in the town, or in the country; of this, _mr. fuller_ and _mr. shelley_, who will probably attend the meeting, can, if they please, give full testimony. it is, however, not in their power to contradict it. having thus indulged myself in recollecting a place where i formerly had, and even now have, many friends, rich and poor, and most probably some enemies, i proceed to the more important purport of my letter. since my departure from lewes, fortune or providence has thrown me into a line of action, which my first setting out into life could not possibly have suggested to me. i have seen the fine and fertile country of america ravaged and deluged in blood, and the taxes of england enormously increased and multiplied in consequence thereof; and this, in a great measure, by the instigation of the same class of placemen, pensioners, and court dependants, who are now promoting addresses throughout england, on the present _unintelligible_ proclamation. i have also seen a system of government rise up in that country, free from corruption, and now administered over an extent of territory ten times as large as england, _for less expence than the pensions alone in england amount to_; and under which more freedom is enjoyed, and a more happy state of society is preserved, and a more general prosperity is promoted, than under any other system of government now existing in the world. knowing, as i do, the things i now declare, i should reproach myself with want of duty and affection to mankind, were i not in the most undismayed manner to publish them, as it were, on the house-tops, for the good of others. having thus glanced at what has passed within my knowledge, since my leaving lewes, i come to the subject more immediately before the meeting now present. mr. edmund burke, who, as i shall show, in a future publication, has lived a concealed pensioner, at the expence of the public, of fifteen hundred pounds per annum, for about ten years last past, published a book the winter before last, in open violation of the principles of liberty, and for which he was applauded by that class of men _who are now promoting addresses_. soon after his book appeared, i published the first part of the work, entitled "rights of man," as an answer thereto, and had the happiness of receiving the public thanks of several bodies of men, and of numerous individuals of the best character, of every denomination in religion, and of every rank in life--placemen and pensioners excepted. in february last, i published the second part of "rights of man," and as it met with still greater approbation from the true friends of national freedom, and went deeper into the system of government, and exposed the abuses of it, more than had been done in the first part, it consequently excited an alarm among all those, who, insensible of the burthen of taxes which the general mass of the people sustain, are living in luxury and indolence, and hunting after court preferments, sinecure places, and pensions, either for themselves, or for their family connections. i have shewn in that work, that the taxes may be reduced at least _six millions_, and even then the expences of government in england would be twenty times greater than they are in the country i have already spoken of. that taxes may be entirely taken off from the poor, by remitting to them in money at the rate of between _three and four pounds_ per head per annum, for the education and bringing up of the children of the poor families, who are computed at one third of the whole nation, and _six pounds_ per annum to all poor persons, decayed tradesmen, or others, from the age of fifty until sixty, and _ten pounds_ per annum from after sixty. and that in consequence of this allowance, to be paid out of the surplus taxes, the poor-rates would become unnecessary, and that it is better to apply the surplus taxes to these beneficent purposes, _than to waste them on idle and profligate courtiers, placemen, and pensioners_. these, gentlemen, are a part of the plans and principles contained in the work, which this meeting is now called upon, in an indirect manner, to vote an address against, and brand with the name of _wicked and seditious_. but that the work may speak for itself, i request leave to close this part of my letter with an extract therefrom, in the following words: [_quotation the same as that on p. _.] gentlemen, i have now stated to you such matters as appear necessary to me to offer to the consideration of the meeting. i have no other interest in what i am doing, nor in writing you this letter, than the interest of the _heart_. i consider the proposed address as calculated to give countenance to placemen, pensioners, enormous taxation, and corruption. many of you will recollect, that whilst i resided among you, there was not a man more firm and open in supporting the principles of liberty than myself, and i still pursue, and ever will, the same path. i have, gentlemen, only one request to make, which is--that those who have called the meeting will speak _out_, and say, whether in the address they are going to present against publications, which the proclamation calls wicked, they mean the work entitled _rights of man_, or whether they do not? i am, gentlemen, with sincere wishes for your happiness, your friend and servant, thomas paine. viii. to mr. secretary dundas. calais, sept. , . sir, i conceive it necessary to make you acquainted with the following circumstance:--the department of calais having elected me a member of the national convention of france, i set off from london the th instant, in company with mr. frost, of spring garden, and mr. audibert, one of the municipal officers of calais, who brought me the certificate of my being elected. we had not arrived more, i believe, than five minutes at the york hotel, at dover, when the train of circumstances began that i am going to relate. we had taken our baggage out of the carriage, and put it into a room, into which we went. mr. frost, having occasion to go out, was stopped in the passage by a gentleman, who told him he must return into the room, which he did, and the gentleman came in with him, and shut the door. i had remained in the room; mr. audibert was gone to inquire when the packet was to sail. the gentleman then said, that he was collector of the customs, and had an information against us, and must examine our baggage for prohibited articles. he produced his commission as collector. mr. frost demanded to see the information, which the collector refused to shew, and continued to refuse, on every demand that we made. the collector then called in several other officers, and began first to search our pockets. he took from mr. audibert, who was then returned into the room, every thing he found in his pocket, and laid it on the table. he then searched mr. frost in the same manner, (who, among other things, had the keys of the trunks in his pocket,) and then did the same by me. mr. frost wanting to go out, mentioned it, and was going towards the door; on which the collector placed himself against the door, and said, nobody should depart the room. after the keys had been taken from mr. frost, (for i had given him the keys of my trunks beforehand, for the purpose of his attending the baggage to the customs, if it should be necessary,) the collector asked us to open the trunks, presenting us the keys for that purpose; this we declined to do, unless he would produce his information, which he again refused. the collector then opened the trunks himself, and took out every paper and letter, sealed or unsealed. on our remonstrating with him on the bad policy, as well as the illegality, of custom-house officers seizing papers and letters, which were things that did not come under their cognizance, he replied, that the _proclamation_ gave him the authority. among the letters which he took out of my trunk, were two sealed letters, given into my charge by the american minister in london [pinckney], one of which was directed to the american minister at paris [gouverneur morris], the other to a private gentleman; a letter from the president of the united states, and a letter from the secretary of state in america, both directed to me, and which i had received from the american minister, now in london, and were private letters of friendship; a letter from the electoral body of the department of calais, containing the notification of my being elected to the national convention; and a letter from the president of the national assembly, informing me of my being also elected for the department of the oise. as we found that all remonstrances with the collector, on the bad policy and illegality of seizing papers and letters, and retaining our persons by force, under the pretence of searching for prohibited articles, were vain, (for he justified himself on the proclamation, and on the information which he refused to shew,) we contented ourselves with assuring him, that what he was then doing, he would afterwards have to answer for, and left it to himself to do as he pleased. it appeared to us that the collector was acting under the direction of some other person or persons, then in the hotel, but whom he did not choose we should see, or who did not choose to be seen by us; for the collector went several times out of the room for a few minutes, and was also called out several times. when the collector had taken what papers and letters he pleased out of the trunks, he proceeded to read them. the first letter he took up for this purpose was that from the president of the united states to me. while he was doing this, i said, that it was very extraordinary that general washington could not write a letter of private friendship to me, without its being subject to be read by a custom-house officer. upon this mr. frost laid his hand over the face of the letter, and told the collector that he should not read it, and took it from him. mr. frost then, casting his eyes on the concluding paragraph of the letter, said, i will read this part to you, which he did; of which the following is an exact transcript-- "and as no one can feel a greater interest in the happiness of mankind than i do, it is the first wish of my heart, that the enlightened policy of the present age may diffuse to all men those blessings to which they are entitled, and lay the foundation of happiness for future generations."( ) as all the other letters and papers lay then on the table, the collector took them up, and was going out of the room with them. during the transactions already stated, i contented myself with observing what passed, and spoke but little; but on seeing the collector going out of the room with the letters, i told him that the papers and letters then in his hand were either belonging to me, or entrusted to my charge, and that as i could not permit them to be out of my sight, i must insist on going with him. washington's letter is dated may, . see my _life of paine_ vol. i., p. .--_editor_. the collector then made a list of the letters and papers, and went out of the room, giving the letters and papers into the charge of one of the officers. he returned in a short time, and, after some trifling conversation, chiefly about the proclamation, told us, that he saw _the proclamation was ill-founded_, and asked if we chose to put the letters and papers into the trunks ourselves, which, as we had not taken them out, we declined doing, and he did it himself, and returned us the keys. in stating to you these matters, i make no complaint against the personal conduct of the collector, or of any of the officers. their manner was as civil as such an extraordinary piece of business could admit of. my chief motive in writing to you on this subject is, that you may take measures for preventing the like in future, not only as it concerns private individuals, but in order to prevent a renewal of those unpleasant consequences that have heretofore arisen between nations from circumstances equally as insignificant. i mention this only for myself; but as the interruption extended to two other gentlemen, it is probable that they, as individuals, will take some more effectual mode for redress. i am, sir, yours, &c. thomas paine. p. s. among the papers seized, was a copy of the attorney-general's information against me for publishing the _rights of man_, and a printed proof copy of my letter to the addressers, which will soon be published. ix. letter addressed to the addressers on the late proclamation.( ) could i have commanded circumstances with a wish, i know not of any that would have more generally promoted the progress of knowledge, than the late proclamation, and the numerous rotten borough and corporation addresses thereon. they have not only served as advertisements, but they have excited a spirit of enquiry into principles of government, and a desire to read the rights of man, in places where that spirit and that work were before unknown. the people of england, wearied and stunned with parties, and alternately deceived by each, had almost resigned the prerogative of thinking. even curiosity had expired, and a universal languor had spread itself over the land. the opposition was visibly no other than a contest for power, whilst the mass of the nation stood torpidly by as the prize. in this hopeless state of things, the first part of the rights of man made its appearance. it had to combat with a strange mixture of prejudice and indifference; it stood exposed to every species of newspaper abuse; and besides this, it had to remove the obstructions which mr. burke's rude and outrageous attack on the french revolution had artfully raised. the royal proclamation issued against seditious writings, may st. this pamphlet, the proof of which was read in paris (see p. s. of preceding chapter), was published at s. d. by h. d. symonds, paternoster row, and thomas clio rickman, upper marylebone street (where it was written), both pub-ushers being soon after prosecuted.--_editor_. but how easy does even the most illiterate reader distinguish the spontaneous sensations of the heart, from the laboured productions of the brain. truth, whenever it can fully appear, is a thing so naturally familiar to the mind, that an acquaintance commences at first sight. no artificial light, yet discovered, can display all the properties of daylight; so neither can the best invented fiction fill the mind with every conviction which truth begets. to overthrow mr. burke's fallacious book was scarcely the operation of a day. even the phalanx of placemen and pensioners, who had given the tone to the multitude, by clamouring forth his political fame, became suddenly silent; and the final event to himself has been, that as he rose like a rocket, he fell like the stick. it seldom happens, that the mind rests satisfied with the simple detection of error or imposition. once put in motion, _that_ motion soon becomes accelerated; where it had intended to stop, it discovers new reasons to proceed, and renews and continues the pursuit far beyond the limits it first prescribed to itself. thus it has happened to the people of england. from a detection of mr. burke's incoherent rhapsodies, and distorted facts, they began an enquiry into the first principles of government, whilst himself, like an object left far behind, became invisible and forgotten. much as the first part of rights of man impressed at its first appearance, the progressive mind soon discovered that it did not go far enough. it detected errors; it exposed absurdities; it shook the fabric of political superstition; it generated new ideas; but it did not produce a regular system of principles in the room of those which it displaced. and, if i may guess at the mind of the government-party, they beheld it as an unexpected gale that would soon blow over, and they forbore, like sailors in threatening weather, to whistle, lest they should encrease(sic) the wind. every thing, on their part, was profound silence. when the second part of _rights of man, combining principle and practice_, was preparing to appear, they affected, for a while, to act with the same policy as before; but finding their silence had no more influence in stifling the progress of the work, than it would have in stopping the progress of time, they changed their plan, and affected to treat it with clamorous contempt. the speech-making placemen and pensioners, and place-expectants, in both houses of parliament, the _outs_ as well as the _ins_, represented it as a silly, insignificant performance; as a work incapable of producing any effect; as something which they were sure the good sense of the people would either despise or indignantly spurn; but such was the overstrained awkwardness with which they harangued and encouraged each other, that in the very act of declaring their confidence they betrayed their fears. as most of the rotten borough addressers are obscured in holes and corners throughout the country, and to whom a newspaper arrives as rarely as an almanac, they most probably have not had the opportunity of knowing how far this part of the farce (the original prelude to all the addresses) has been acted. for _their_ information, i will suspend a while the more serious purpose of my letter, and entertain them with two or three speeches in the last session of parliament, which will serve them for politics till parliament meets again. you must know, gentlemen, that the second part of the rights of man (the book against which you have been presenting addresses, though it is most probable that many of you did not know it) was to have come out precisely at the time that parliament last met. it happened not to be published till a few days after. but as it was very well known that the book would shortly appear, the parliamentary orators entered into a very cordial coalition to cry the book down, and they began their attack by crying up the _blessings_ of the constitution. had it been your fate to have been there, you could not but have been moved at the heart-and-pocket-felt congratulations that passed between all the parties on this subject of _blessings_; for the _outs_ enjoy places and pensions and sinecures as well as the _ins_, and are as devoutly attached to the firm of the house. one of the most conspicuous of this motley groupe, is the clerk of the court of king's bench, who calls himself lord stormont. he is also called justice general of scotland, and keeper of scoon, (an opposition man,) and he draws from the public for these nominal offices, not less, as i am informed, than six thousand pounds a-year, and he is, most probably, at the trouble of counting the money, and signing a receipt, to shew, perhaps, that he is qualified to be clerk as well as justice. he spoke as follows.(*) "that we shall all be unanimous in expressing our attachment to the constitution of these realms, i am confident. it is a subject upon which there can be no divided opinion in this house. i do not pretend to be deep read in the knowledge of the constitution, but i take upon me to say, that from the extent of my knowledge [_for i have so many thousands a year for nothing_] it appears to me, that from the period of the revolution, for it was by no means created then, it has been, both in theory and practice, the wisest system that ever was formed. i never was [he means he never was till now] a dealer in political cant. my life has not been occupied in that way, but the speculations of late years seem to have taken a turn, for which i cannot account. when i came into public life, the political pamphlets of the time, however they might be charged with the heat and violence of parties, were agreed in extolling the radical beauties of the constitution itself. i remember [_he means he has forgotten_] a most captivating eulogium on its charms, by lord bolingbroke, where he recommends his readers to contemplate it in all its aspects, with the assurance that it would be found more estimable the more it was seen, i do not recollect his precise words, but i wish that men who write upon these subjects would take this for their model, instead of the political pamphlets, which, i am told, are now in circulation, [_such, i suppose, as rights of man,_] pamphlets which i have not read, and whose purport i know only by report, [_he means, perhaps, by the noise they make_.] this, however, i am sure, that pamphlets tending to unsettle the public reverence for the constitution, will have very little influence. they can do very little harm--for [_by the bye, he is no dealer in political cant_] the english are a sober-thinking people, and are more intelligent, more solid, more steady in their opinions, than any people i ever had the fortune to see. [_this is pretty well laid on, though, for a new beginner_.] but if there should ever come a time when the propagation of those doctrines should agitate the public mind, i am sure for every one of your lordships, that no attack will be made on the constitution, from which it is truly said that we derive all our prosperity, without raising every one of your lordships to its support it will then be found that there is no difference among us, but that we are all determined to stand or fall together, in defence of the inestimable system "--[_of places and pensions_]. * see his speech in the morning chronicle of feb. .-- author. after stormont, on the opposition side, sat down, up rose another noble lord, on the ministerial side, grenville. this man ought to be as strong in the back as a mule, or the sire of a mule, or it would crack with the weight of places and offices. he rose, however, without feeling any incumbrance, full master of his weight; and thus said this noble lord to t'other noble lord! "the patriotic and manly manner in which the noble lord has declared his sentiments on the subject of the constitution, demands my cordial approbation. the noble viscount has proved, that however we may differ on particular measures, amidst all the jars and dissonance of parties, we are unanimous in principle. there is a perfect and entire consent [_between us_] in the love and maintenance of the constitution as happily subsisting. it must undoubtedly give your lordships concern, to find that the time is come [heigh ho!] when there is propriety in the expressions of regard to [o! o! o!] the constitution. and that there are men [confound--their--po-li-tics] who disseminate doctrines hostile to the genuine spirit of our well balanced system, [_it is certainly well balanced when both sides hold places and pensions at once._] i agree with the noble viscount that they have not [i hope] much success. i am convinced that there is no danger to be apprehended from their attempts: but it is truly important and consolatory [to us placemen, i suppose] to know, that if ever there should arise a serious alarm, there is but one spirit, one sense, [_and that sense i presume is not common sense_] and one determination in this house "--which undoubtedly is to hold all their places and pensions as long as they can. both those speeches (except the parts enclosed in parenthesis, which are added for the purpose of illustration) are copied verbatim from the morning chronicle of the st of february last; and when the situation of the speakers is considered, the one in the opposition, and the other in the ministry, and both of them living at the public expence, by sinecure, or nominal places and offices, it required a very unblushing front to be able to deliver them. can those men seriously suppose any nation to be so completely blind as not to see through them? can stormont imagine that the political _cant_, with which he has larded his harangue, will conceal the craft? does he not know that there never was a cover large enough to hide _itself_? or can grenvilie believe that his credit with the public encreases with his avarice for places? but, if these orators will accept a service from me, in return for the allusions they have made to the _rights of man_, i will make a speech for either of them to deliver, on the excellence of the constitution, that shall be as much to the purpose as what they have spoken, or as _bolingbroke's captivating eulogium_. here it is. "that we shall all be unanimous in expressing our attachment to the constitution, i am confident. it is, my lords, incomprehensibly good: but the great wonder of all is the wisdom; for it is, my lords, _the wisest system that ever was formed_. "with respect to us, noble lords, though the world does not know it, it is very well known to us, that we have more wisdom than we know what to do with; and what is still better, my lords, we have it all in stock. i defy your lordships to prove, that a tittle of it has been used yet; and if we but go on, my lords, with the frugality we have hitherto done, we shall leave to our heirs and successors, when we go out of the world, the whole stock of wisdom, _untouched_, that we brought in; and there is no doubt but they will follow our example. this, my lords, is one of the blessed effects of the hereditary system; for we can never be without wisdom so long as we keep it by us, and do not use it. "but, my lords, as all this wisdom is hereditary property, for the sole benefit of us and our heirs, and it is necessary that the people should know where to get a supply for their own use, the excellence of our constitution has provided us a king for this very purpose, and for _no other_. but, my lords, i perceive a defect to which the constitution is subject, and which i propose to remedy by bringing a bill into parliament for that purpose. "the constitution, my lords, out of delicacy, i presume, has left it as a matter of _choice_ to a king whether he will be wise or not. it has not, i mean, my lords, insisted upon it as a constitutional point, which, i conceive it ought to have done; for i pledge myself to your lordships to prove, and that with _true patriotic boldness_, that he has _no choice in the matter_. this bill, my lords, which i shall bring in, will be to declare, that the constitution, according to the true intent and meaning thereof, does not invest the king with this choice; our ancestors were too wise to do that; and, in order to prevent any doubts that might otherwise arise, i shall prepare, my lords, an enacting clause, to fix the wisdom of kings by act of parliament; and then, my lords our constitution will be the wonder of the world! "wisdom, my lords, is the one thing needful: but that there may be no mistake in this matter, and that we may proceed consistently with the true wisdom of the constitution, i shall propose a _certain criterion_ whereby the _exact quantity of wisdom_ necessary for a king may be known. [here should be a cry of, hear him! hear him!] "it is recorded, my lords, in the statutes at large of the jews, 'a book, my lords, which i have not read, and whose purport i know only by report,' _but perhaps the bench of bishops can recollect something about it_, that saul gave the most convincing proofs of royal wisdom before he was made a king, _for he was sent to seek his father's asses and he could not find them_. "here, my lords, we have, most happily for us, a case in point: this precedent ought to be established by act of parliament; and every king, before he be crowned, should be sent to seek his father's asses, and if he cannot find them, he shall be declared wise enough to be king, according to the true meaning of our excellent constitution. all, therefore, my lords, that will be necessary to be done by the enacting clause that i shall bring in, will be to invest the king beforehand with the quantity of wisdom necessary for this purpose, lest he should happen not to possess it; and this, my lords, we can do without making use of any of our own. "we further read, my lords, in the said statutes at large of the jews, that samuel, who certainly was as mad as any man-of-rights-man now-a-days (hear him! hear him!), was highly displeased, and even exasperated, at the proposal of the jews to have a king, and he warned them against it with all that assurance and impudence of which he was master. i have been, my lords, at the trouble of going all the way to _paternoster-row_, to procure an extract from the printed copy. i was told that i should meet with it there, or in _amen-eorner_, for i was then going, my lords, to rummage for it among the curiosities of the _antiquarian society_. i will read the extracts to your lordships, to shew how little samuel knew of the matter. "the extract, my lords, is from sam. chap. viii.: "'and samuel told all the words of the lord unto the people that asked of him a king. "'and he said, this will be the manner of the king that shall reign over you: he will take your sons, and appoint them for himself, for his chariots, and to be his horsemen; and some shall run before his chariots. "'and he will appoint him captains over thousands, and captains over fifties, and will set them to ear his ground, and to reap his harvest, and to make his instruments of war, and instruments of his chariots. "'and he will take your daughters to be confectionnes, and to be cooks, and to be bakers. "'and he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and your olive-yards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants. "'and he will take the tenth of your seed, and of your vineyards, and give to his officers and to his servants. "'and he will take your men-servants, and your maid-servants, and your goodliest young men, and your asses, and put them to his work. "'and he will take the tenth of your sheep, and ye shall be his servants. "'and ye shall cry out in that day, because of your king, which ye shall have chosen you; and the lord will not hear you in that day.' "now, my lords, what can we think of this man samuel? is there a word of truth, or any thing like truth, in all that he has said? he pretended to be a prophet, or a wise man, but has not the event proved him to be a fool, or an incendiary? look around, my lords, and see if any thing has happened that he pretended to foretell! has not the most profound peace reigned throughout the world ever since kings were in fashion? are not, for example, the present kings of europe the most peaceable of mankind, and the empress of russia the very milk of human kindness? it would not be worth having kings, my lords, if it were not that they never go to war. "if we look at home, my lords, do we not see the same things here as are seen every where else? are our young men taken to be horsemen, or foot soldiers, any more than in germany or in prussia, or in hanover or in hesse? are not our sailors as safe at land as at sea? are they ever dragged from their homes, like oxen to the slaughter-house, to serve on board ships of war? when they return from the perils of a long voyage with the merchandize of distant countries, does not every man sit down under his own vine and his own fig-tree, in perfect security? is the tenth of our seed taken by tax-gatherers, or is any part of it given to the king's servants? in short, _is not everything as free from taxes as the light from heaven!_ ( ) "ah! my lords, do we not see the blessed effect of having kings in every thing we look at? is not the g. r., or the broad r., stampt upon every thing? even the shoes, the gloves, and the hats that we wear, are enriched with the impression, and all our candles blaze a burnt-offering. "besides these blessings, my lords, that cover us from the sole of the foot to the crown of the head, do we not see a race of youths growing up to be kings, who are the very paragons of virtue? there is not one of them, my lords, but might be trusted with untold gold, as safely as the other. are they not '_more sober, intelligent, more solid, more steady_,' and withal, _more learned, more wise, more every thing, than any youths we '_ever had the fortune to see.' ah! my lords, they are a _hopeful family_. "the blessed prospect of succession, which the nation has at this moment before its eyes, is a most undeniable proof of the excellence of our constitution, and of the blessed hereditary system; for nothing, my lords, but a constitution founded on the truest and purest wisdom could admit such heaven-born and heaven-taught characters into the government.--permit me now, my lords, to recal your attention to the libellous chapter i have just read about kings. i mention this, my lords, because it is my intention to move for a bill to be brought into parliament to expunge that chapter from the bible, and that the lord chancellor, with the assistance of the prince of wales, the duke of york, and the duke of clarence, be requested to write a chapter in the room of it; and that mr. burke do see that it be truly canonical, and faithfully inserted."--finis. allusion to the window-tax.--editor, if the clerk of the court of king's bench should chuse to be the orator of this luminous encomium on the constitution, i hope he will get it well by heart before he attempts to deliver it, and not have to apologize to parliament, as he did in the case of bolingbroke's encomium, for forgetting his lesson; and, with this admonition i leave him. having thus informed the addressers of what passed at the meeting of parliament, i return to take up the subject at the part where i broke off in order to introduce the preceding speeches. i was then stating, that the first policy of the government party was silence, and the next, clamorous contempt; but as people generally choose to read and judge for themselves, the work still went on, and the affectation of contempt, like the silence that preceded it, passed for nothing. thus foiled in their second scheme, their evil genius, like a will-with-a-wisp, led them to a third; when all at once, as if it had been unfolded to them by a fortune-teller, or mr. dundas had discovered it by second sight, this once harmless, insignificant book, without undergoing the alteration of a single letter, became a most wicked and dangerous libel. the whole cabinet, like a ship's crew, became alarmed; all hands were piped upon deck, as if a conspiracy of elements was forming around them, and out came the proclamation and the prosecution; and addresses supplied the place of prayers. ye silly swains, thought i to myself, why do you torment yourselves thus? the rights of man is a book calmly and rationally written; why then are you so disturbed? did you see how little or how suspicious such conduct makes you appear, even cunning alone, had you no other faculty, would hush you into prudence. the plans, principles, and arguments, contained in that work, are placed before the eyes of the nation, and of the world, in a fair, open, and manly manner, and nothing more is necessary than to refute them. do this, and the whole is done; but if ye cannot, so neither can ye suppress the reading, nor convict the author; for the law, in the opinion of all good men, would convict itself, that should condemn what cannot be refuted. having now shown the addressers the several stages of the business, prior to their being called upon, like cæsar in the tyber, crying to cassius, "_help, cassius, or i sink_!" i next come to remark on the policy of the government, in promoting addresses; on the consequences naturally resulting therefrom; and on the conduct of the persons concerned. with respect to the policy, it evidently carries with it every mark and feature of disguised fear. and it will hereafter be placed in the history of extraordinary things, that a pamphlet should be produced by an individual, unconnected with any sect or party, and not seeking to make any, and almost a stranger in the land, that should compleatly frighten a whole government, and that in the midst of its most triumphant security. such a circumstance cannot fail to prove, that either the pamphlet has irresistible powers, or the government very extraordinary defects, or both. the nation exhibits no signs of fear at the rights of man; why then should the government, unless the interest of the two are really opposite to each other, and the secret is beginning to be known? that there are two distinct classes of men in the nation, those who pay taxes, and those who receive and live upon the taxes, is evident at first sight; and when taxation is carried to excess, it cannot fail to disunite those two, and something of this kind is now beginning to appear. it is also curious to observe, amidst all the fume and bustle about proclamations and addresses, kept up by a few noisy and interested men, how little the mass of the nation seem to care about either. they appear to me, by the indifference they shew, not to believe a word the proclamation contains; and as to the addresses, they travel to london with the silence of a funeral, and having announced their arrival in the gazette, are deposited with the ashes of their predecessors, and mr. dundas writes their _hic facet_. one of the best effects which the proclamation, and its echo the addresses have had, has been that of exciting and spreading curiosity; and it requires only a single reflection to discover, that the object of all curiosity is knowledge. when the mass of the nation saw that placemen, pensioners, and borough-mongers, were the persons that stood forward to promote addresses, it could not fail to create suspicions that the public good was not their object; that the character of the books, or writings, to which such persons obscurely alluded, not daring to mention them, was directly contrary to what they described them to be, and that it was necessary that every man, for his own satisfaction, should exercise his proper right, and read and judge for himself. but how will the persons who have been induced to read the _rights of man_, by the clamour that has been raised against it, be surprized to find, that, instead of a wicked, inflammatory work, instead of a licencious and profligate performance, it abounds with principles of government that are uncontrovertible--with arguments which every reader will feel, are unanswerable--with plans for the increase of commerce and manufactures--for the extinction of war--for the education of the children of the poor--for the comfortable support of the aged and decayed persons of both sexes--for the relief of the army and navy, and, in short, for the promotion of every thing that can benefit the moral, civil, and political condition of man. why, then, some calm observer will ask, why is the work prosecuted, if these be the goodly matters it contains? i will tell thee, friend; it contains also a plan for the reduction of taxes, for lessening the immense expences of government, for abolishing sinecure places and pensions; and it proposes applying the redundant taxes, that shall be saved by these reforms, to the purposes mentioned in the former paragraph, instead of applying them to the support of idle and profligate placemen and pensioners. is it, then, any wonder that placemen and pensioners, and the whole train of court expectants, should become the promoters of addresses, proclamations, and prosecutions? or, is it any wonder that corporations and rotten boroughs, which are attacked and exposed, both in the first and second parts of _rights of man_, as unjust monopolies and public nuisances, should join in the cavalcade? yet these are the sources from which addresses have sprung. had not such persons come forward to oppose the _rights of man_, i should have doubted the efficacy of my own writings: but those opposers have now proved to me that the blow was well directed, and they have done it justice by confessing the smart. the principal deception in this business of addresses has been, that the promoters of them have not come forward in their proper characters. they have assumed to pass themselves upon the public as a part of the public, bearing a share of the burthen of taxes, and acting for the public good; whereas, they are in general that part of it that adds to the public burthen, by living on the produce of the public taxes. they are to the public what the locusts are to the tree: the burthen would be less, and the prosperity would be greater, if they were shaken off. "i do not come here," said onslow, at the surry county meeting, "as the lord lieutenant and custos rotulorum of the county, but i come here as a plain country gentleman." the fact is, that he came there as what he was, and as no other, and consequently he came as one of the beings i have been describing. if it be the character of a gentleman to be fed by the public, as a pauper is by the parish, onslow has a fair claim to the title; and the same description will suit the duke of richmond, who led the address at the sussex meeting. he also may set up for a gentleman. as to the meeting in the next adjoining county (kent), it was a scene of disgrace. about two hundred persons met, when a small part of them drew privately away from the rest, and voted an address: the consequence of which was that they got together by the ears, and produced a riot in the very act of producing an address to prevent riots. that the proclamation and the addresses have failed of their intended effect, may be collected from the silence which the government party itself observes. the number of addresses has been weekly retailed in the gazette; but the number of addressers has been concealed. several of the addresses have been voted by not more than ten or twelve persons; and a considerable number of them by not more than thirty. the whole number of addresses presented at the time of writing this letter is three hundred and twenty, (rotten boroughs and corporations included) and even admitting, on an average, one hundred addressers to each address, the whole number of addressers would be but thirty-two thousand, and nearly three months have been taken up in procuring this number. that the success of the proclamation has been less than the success of the work it was intended to discourage, is a matter within my own knowledge; for a greater number of the cheap edition of the first and second parts of the rights of man has been sold in the space only of one month, than the whole number of addressers (admitting them to be thirty-two thousand) have amounted to in three months. it is a dangerous attempt in any government to say to a nation, "_thou shalt not read_." this is now done in spain, and was formerly done under the old government of france; but it served to procure the downfall of the latter, and is subverting that of the former; and it will have the same tendency in all countries; because _thought_ by some means or other, is got abroad in the world, and cannot be restrained, though reading may. if _rights of man_ were a book that deserved the vile description which the promoters of the address have given of it, why did not these men prove their charge, and satisfy the people, by producing it, and reading it publicly? this most certainly ought to have been done, and would also have been done, had they believed it would have answered their purpose. but the fact is, that the book contains truths which those time-servers dreaded to hear, and dreaded that the people should know; and it is now following up the, address to addressers. addresses in every part of the nation, and convicting them of falsehoods. among the unwarrantable proceedings to which the proclamation has given rise, the meetings of the justices in several of the towns and counties ought to be noticed.. those men have assumed to re-act the farce of general warrants, and to suppress, by their own authority, whatever publications they please. this is an attempt at power equalled only by the conduct of the minor despots of the most despotic governments in europe, and yet those justices affect to call england a free country. but even this, perhaps, like the scheme for garrisoning the country by building military barracks, is necessary to awaken the country to a sense of its rights, and, as such, it will have a good effect. another part of the conduct of such justices has been, that of threatening to take away the licences from taverns and public-houses, where the inhabitants of the neighbourhood associated to read and discuss the principles of government, and to inform each other thereon. this, again, is similar to what is doing in spain and russia; and the reflection which it cannot fail to suggest is, that the principles and conduct of any government must be bad, when that government dreads and startles at discussion, and seeks security by a prevention of knowledge. if the government, or the constitution, or by whatever name it be called, be that miracle of perfection which the proclamation and the addresses have trumpeted it forth to be, it ought to have defied discussion and investigation, instead of dreading it. whereas, every attempt it makes, either by proclamation, prosecution, or address, to suppress investigation, is a confession that it feels itself unable to bear it. it is error only, and not truth, that shrinks from enquiry. all the numerous pamphlets, and all the newspaper falsehood and abuse, that have been published against the rights of man, have fallen before it like pointless arrows; and, in like manner, would any work have fallen before the constitution, had the constitution, as it is called, been founded on as good political principles as those on which the rights of man is written. it is a good constitution for courtiers, placemen, pensioners, borough-holders, and the leaders of parties, and these are the men that have been the active leaders of addresses; but it is a bad constitution for at least ninety-nine parts of the nation out of an hundred, and this truth is every day making its way. it is bad, first, because it entails upon the nation the unnecessary expence of supporting three forms and systems of government at once, namely, the monarchical, the aristocratical, and the democratical. secondly, because it is impossible to unite such a discordant composition by any other means than perpetual corruption; and therefore the corruption so loudly and so universally complained of, is no other than the natural consequence of such an unnatural compound of governments; and in this consists that excellence which the numerous herd of placemen and pensioners so loudly extol, and which at the same time, occasions that enormous load of taxes under which the rest of the nation groans. among the mass of national delusions calculated to amuse and impose upon the multitude, the standing one has been that of flattering them into taxes, by calling the government (or as they please to express it, the english constitution) "_the envy and the admiration of the world_" scarcely an address has been voted in which some of the speakers have not uttered this hackneyed nonsensical falsehood. two revolutions have taken place, those of america and france; and both of them have rejected the unnatural compounded system of the english government. america has declared against all hereditary government, and established the representative system of government only. france has entirely rejected the aristocratical part, and is now discovering the absurdity of the monarchical, and is approaching fast to the representative system. on what ground then, do these men continue a declaration, respecting what they call the _envy and admiration of other nations_, which the voluntary practice of such nations, as have had the opportunity of establishing government, contradicts and falsifies. will such men never confine themselves to truth? will they be for ever the deceivers of the people? but i will go further, and shew, that were government now to begin in england, the people could not be brought to establish the same system they now submit to. in speaking on this subject (or on any other) _on the pure ground of principle_, antiquity and precedent cease to be authority, and hoary-headed error loses its effect. the reasonableness and propriety of things must be examined abstractedly from custom and usage; and, in this point of view, the right which grows into practice to-day is as much a right, and as old in principle and theory, as if it had the customary sanction of a thousand ages. principles have no connection with time, nor characters with names. to say that the government of this country is composed of king, lords, and commons, is the mere phraseology of custom. it is composed of men; and whoever the men be to whom the government of any country is intrusted, they ought to be the best and wisest that can be found, and if they are not so, they are not fit for the station. a man derives no more excellence from the change of a name, or calling him king, or calling him lord, than i should do by changing my name from thomas to george, or from paine to guelph. i should not be a whit more able to write a book because my name was altered; neither would any man, now called a king or a lord, have a whit the more sense than he now has, were he to call himself thomas paine. as to the word "commons," applied as it is in england, it is a term of degradation and reproach, and ought to be abolished. it is a term unknown in free countries. but to the point.--let us suppose that government was now to begin in england, and that the plan of government, offered to the nation for its approbation or rejection, consisted of the following parts: first--that some one individual should be taken from all the rest of the nation, and to whom all the rest should swear obedience, and never be permitted to sit down in his presence, and that they should give to him one million sterling a year.--that the nation should never after have power or authority to make laws but with his express consent; and that his sons and his sons' sons, whether wise or foolish, good men or bad, fit or unfit, should have the same power, and also the same money annually paid to them for ever. secondly--that there should be two houses of legislators to assist in making laws, one of which should, in the first instance, be entirely appointed by the aforesaid person, and that their sons and their sons' sons, whether wise or foolish, good men or bad, fit or unfit, should for ever after be hereditary legislators. thirdly--that the other house should be chosen in the same manner as the house now called the house of commons is chosen, and should be subject to the controul of the two aforesaid hereditary powers in all things. it would be impossible to cram such a farrago of imposition and absurdity down the throat of this or any other nation that was capable of reasoning upon its rights and its interest. they would ask, in the first place, on what ground of right, or on what principle, such irrational and preposterous distinctions could, or ought to be made; and what pretensions any man could have, or what services he could render, to entitle him to a million a year? they would go farther, and revolt at the idea of consigning their children, and their children's children, to the domination of persons hereafter to be born, who might, for any thing they could foresee, turn out to be knaves or fools; and they would finally discover, that the project of hereditary governors and legislators _was a treasonable usurpation over the rights of posterity_. not only the calm dictates of reason, and the force of natural affection, but the integrity of manly pride, would impel men to spurn such proposals. from the grosser absurdities of such a scheme, they would extend their examination to the practical defects--they would soon see that it would end in tyranny accomplished by fraud. that in the operation of it, it would be two to one against them, because the two parts that were to be made hereditary would form a common interest, and stick to each other; and that themselves and representatives would become no better than hewers of wood and drawers of water for the other parts of the government.--yet call one of those powers king, the other lords, and the third the commons, and it gives the model of what is called the english government. i have asserted, and have shewn, both in the first and second parts of _rights of man_, that there is not such a thing as an english constitution, and that the people have yet a constitution to form. _a constitution is a thing antecedent to a government; it is the act of a people creating a government and giving it powers, and defining the limits and exercise of the powers so given_. but whenever did the people of england, acting in their original constituent character, by a delegation elected for that express purpose, declare and say, "we, the people of this land, do constitute and appoint this to be our system and form of government." the government has assumed to constitute itself, but it never was constituted by the people, in whom alone the right of constituting resides. i will here recite the preamble to the federal constitution of the united states of america. i have shewn in the second part of _rights of man_, the manner by which the constitution was formed and afterwards ratified; and to which i refer the reader. the preamble is in the following words: "we, the people, of the united states, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide for common defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this constitution for the united states of america." then follow the several articles which appoint the manner in which the several component parts of the government, legislative and executive, shall be elected, and the period of their duration, and the powers they shall have: also, the manner by which future additions, alterations, or amendments, shall be made to the constitution. consequently, every improvement that can be made in the science of government, follows in that country as a matter of order. it is only in governments founded on assumption and false principles, that reasoning upon, and investigating systems and principles of government, and shewing their several excellencies and defects, are termed libellous and seditious. these terms were made part of the charge brought against locke, hampden, and sydney, and will continue to be brought against all good men, so long as bad government shall continue. the government of this country has been ostentatiously giving challenges for more than an hundred years past, upon what it called its own excellence and perfection. scarcely a king's speech, or a parliamentary speech, has been uttered, in which this glove has not been thrown, till the world has been insulted with their challenges. but it now appears that all this was vapour and vain boasting, or that it was intended to conceal abuses and defects, and hush the people into taxes. i have taken the challenge up, and in behalf of the public have shewn, in a fair, open, and candid manner, both the radical and practical defects of the system; when, lo! those champions of the civil list have fled away, and sent the attorney-general to deny the challenge, by turning the acceptance of it into an attack, and defending their places and pensions by a prosecution. i will here drop this part of the subject, and state a few particulars respecting the prosecution now pending, by which the addressers will see that they have been used as tools to the prosecuting party and their dependents. the case is as follows: the original edition of the first and second parts of the rights of man, having been expensively printed, (in the modern stile of printing pamphlets, that they might be bound up with mr. burke's reflections on the french revolution,) the high price( ) precluded the generality of people from purchasing; and many applications were made to me from various parts of the country to print the work in a cheaper manner. the people of sheffield requested leave to print two thousand copies for themselves, with which request i immediately complied. the same request came to me from rotherham, from leicester, from chester, from several towns in scotland; and mr. james mackintosh, author of _vindico gallico_, brought me a request from warwickshire, for leave to print ten thousand copies in that county. i had already sent a cheap edition to scotland; and finding the applications increase, i concluded that the best method of complying therewith, would be to print a very numerous edition in london, under my own direction, by which means the work would be more perfect, and the price be reduced lower than it could be by _printing_ small editions in the country, of only a few thousands each. half a crown.--_editor_. the cheap edition of the first part was begun about the first of last april, and from that moment, and not before, i expected a prosecution, and the event has proved that i was not mistaken. i had then occasion to write to mr. thomas walker of manchester, and after informing him of my intention of giving up the work for the purpose of general information, i informed him of what i apprehended would be the consequence; that while the work was at a price that precluded an extensive circulation, the government party, not able to controvert the plans, arguments, and principles it contained, had chosen to remain silent; but that i expected they would make an attempt to deprive the mass of the nation, and especially the poor, of the right of reading, by the pretence of prosecuting either the author or the publisher, or both. they chose to begin with the publisher. nearly a month, however, passed, before i had any information given me of their intentions. i was then at bromley, in kent, upon which i came immediately to town, (may ) and went to mr. jordan, the publisher of the original edition. he had that evening been served with a summons to appear at the court of king's bench, on the monday following, but for what purpose was not stated. supposing it to be on account of the work, i appointed a meeting with him on the next morning, which was accordingly had, when i provided an attorney, and took the ex-pence of the defence on myself. but finding afterwards that he absented himself from the attorney employed, and had engaged another, and that he had been closeted with the solicitors of the treasury, i left him to follow his own choice, and he chose to plead guilty. this he might do if he pleased; and i make no objection against him for it. i believe that his idea by the word _guilty_, was no other than declaring himself to be the publisher, without any regard to the merits or demerits of the work; for were it to be construed otherwise, it would amount to the absurdity of converting a publisher into a jury, and his confession into a verdict upon the work itself. this would be the highest possible refinement upon packing of juries. on the st of may, they commenced their prosecution against me, as the author, by leaving a summons at my lodgings in town, to appear at the court of king's bench on the th of june following; and on the same day, (may ,) _they issued also their proclamation_. thus the court of st. james and the court of king's bench, were playing into each other's hands at the same instant of time, and the farce of addresses brought up the rear; and this mode of proceeding is called by the prostituted name of law. such a thundering rapidity, after a ministerial dormancy of almost eighteen months, can be attributed to no other cause than their having gained information of the forwardness of the cheap edition, and the dread they felt at the progressive increase of political knowledge. i was strongly advised by several gentlemen, as well those in the practice of the law, as others, to prefer a bill of indictment against the publisher of the proclamation, as a publication tending to influence, or rather to dictate the verdict of a jury on the issue of a matter then pending; but it appeared to me much better to avail myself of the opportunity which such a precedent justified me in using, by meeting the proclamation and the addressers on their own ground, and publicly defending the work which had been thus unwarrantably attacked and traduced.--and conscious as i now am, that the work entitled rights of man so far from being, as has been maliciously or erroneously represented, a false, wicked, and seditious libel, is a work abounding with unanswerable truths, with principles of the purest morality and benevolence, and with arguments not to be controverted--conscious, i say, of these things, and having no object in view but the happiness of mankind, i have now put the matter to the best proof in my power, by giving to the public a cheap edition of the first and second parts of that work. let every man read and judge for himself, not only of the merits and demerits of the work, but of the matters therein contained, which relate to his own interest and happiness. if, to expose the fraud and imposition of monarchy, and every species of hereditary government--to lessen the oppression of taxes--to propose plans for the education of helpless infancy, and the comfortable support of the aged and distressed--to endeavour to conciliate nations to each other--to extirpate the horrid practice of war--to promote universal peace, civilization, and commerce--and to break the chains of political superstition, and raise degraded man to his proper rank;--if these things be libellous, let me live the life of a libeller, and let the name of libeller be engraved on my tomb. of all the weak and ill-judged measures which fear, ignorance, or arrogance could suggest, the proclamation, and the project for addresses, are two of the worst. they served to advertise the work which the promoters of those measures wished to keep unknown; and in doing this they offered violence to the judgment of the people, by calling on them to condemn what they forbad them to know, and put the strength of their party to that hazardous issue that prudence would have avoided.--the county meeting for middlesex was attended by only one hundred and eighteen addressers. they, no doubt, expected, that thousands would flock to their standard, and clamor against the _rights of man_. but the case most probably is, that men in all countries, are not so blind to their rights and their interest as governments believe. having thus shewn the extraordinary manner in which the government party commenced their attack, i proceed to offer a few observations on the prosecution, and on the mode of trial by special jury. in the first place, i have written a book; and if it cannot be refuted, it cannot be condemned. but i do not consider the prosecution as particularly levelled against me, but against the general right, or the right of every man, of investigating systems and principles of government, and shewing their several excellencies or defects. if the press be free only to flatter government, as mr. burke has done, and to cry up and extol what certain court sycophants are pleased to call a "glorious constitution," and not free to examine into its errors or abuses, or whether a constitution really exist or not, such freedom is no other than that of spain, turkey, or russia; and a jury in this case, would not be a jury to try, but an inquisition to condemn. i have asserted, and by fair and open argument maintained, the right of every nation at all times to establish such a system and form of government for itself as best accords with its disposition, interest, and happiness; and to change and alter it as it sees occasion. will any jury deny to the nation this right? if they do, they are traitors, and their verdict would be null and void. and if they admit the right, the means must be admitted also; for it would be the highest absurdity to say, that the right existed, but the means did not. the question then is, what are the means by which the possession and exercise of this national right are to be secured? the answer will be, that of maintaining, inviolably, the right of free investigation; for investigation always serves to detect error, and to bring forth truth. i have, as an individual, given my opinion upon what i believe to be not only the best, but the true system of government, which is the representative system, and i have given reasons for that opinion. first, because in the representative system, no office of very extraordinary power, or extravagant pay, is attached to any individual; and consequently there is nothing to excite those national contentions and civil wars with which countries under monarchical governments are frequently convulsed, and of which the history of england exhibits such numerous instances. secondly, because the representative is a system of government always in maturity; whereas monarchical government fluctuates through all the stages, from non-age to dotage. thirdly, because the representative system admits of none but men properly qualified into the government, or removes them if they prove to be otherwise. whereas, in the hereditary system, a nation may be encumbered with a knave or an ideot for a whole life-time, and not be benefited by a successor. fourthly, because there does not exist a right to establish hereditary government, or, in other words, hereditary successors, because hereditary government always means a government yet to come, and the case always is, that those who are to live afterwards have the same right to establish government for themselves, as the people had who lived before them; and, therefore, all laws attempting to establish hereditary government, are founded on assumption and political fiction. if these positions be truths, and i challenge any man to prove the contrary; if they tend to instruct and enlighten mankind, and to free them from error, oppression, and political superstition, which are the objects i have in view in publishing them, that jury would commit an act of injustice to their country, and to me, if not an act of perjury, that should call them _false, wicked, and malicious_. dragonetti, in his treatise "on virtues and rewards," has a paragraph worthy of being recorded in every country in the world--"the science (says he,) of the politician, consists, in, fixing the true point of happiness and freedom. those men deserve the gratitude of ages who should discover a mode of government that contained the greatest sum of _individual happiness_ with the least _national expence_." but if juries are to be made use of to prohibit enquiry, to suppress truth, and to stop the progress of knowledge, this boasted palladium of liberty becomes the most successful instrument of tyranny. among the arts practised at the bar, and from the bench, to impose upon the understanding of a jury, and to obtain a verdict where the consciences of men could not otherwise consent, one of the most successful has been that of calling _truth a libel_, and of insinuating that the words "_falsely, wickedly, and maliciously_," though they are made the formidable and high sounding part of the charge, are not matters of consideration with a jury. for what purpose, then, are they retained, unless it be for that of imposition and wilful defamation? i cannot conceive a greater violation of order, nor a more abominable insult upon morality, and upon human understanding, than to see a man sitting in the judgment seat, affecting by an antiquated foppery of dress to impress the audience with awe; then causing witnesses and jury to be sworn to truth and justice, himself having officially sworn the same; then causing to be read a prosecution against a man charging him with having _wickedly and maliciously written and published a certain false, wicked, and seditious book_; and having gone through all this with a shew of solemnity, as if he saw the eye of the almighty darting through the roof of the building like a ray of light, turn, in an instant, the whole into a farce, and, in order to obtain a verdict that could not otherwise be obtained, tell the jury that the charge of _falsely, wickedly, and seditiously_, meant nothing; that _truth_ was out of the question; and that whether the person accused spoke truth or falsehood, or intended _virtuously or wickedly_, was the same thing; and finally conclude the wretched inquisitorial scene, by stating some antiquated precedent, equally as abominable as that which is then acting, or giving some opinion of his own, and _falsely calling the one and the other--law_. it was, most probably, to such a judge as this, that the most solemn of all reproofs was given--"_the lord will smite thee, thou whitened wall_." i now proceed to offer some remarks on what is called a special jury. as to what is called a special verdict, i shall make no other remark upon it, than that it is in reality _not_ a verdict. it is an attempt on the part of the jury to delegate, or of the bench to obtain, the exercise of that right, which is committed to the jury only. with respect to the special juries, i shall state such matters as i have been able to collect, for i do not find any uniform opinion concerning the mode of appointing them. in the first place, this mode of trial is but of modern invention, and the origin of it, as i am told, is as follows: formerly, when disputes arose between merchants, and were brought before a court, the case was that the nature of their commerce, and the method of keeping merchants' accounts not being sufficiently understood by persons out of their own line, it became necessary to depart from the common mode of appointing juries, and to select such persons for a jury whose _practical knowledge_ would enable them to decide upon the case. from this introduction, special juries became more general; but some doubts having arisen as to their legality, an act was passed in the d of george ii. to establish them as legal, and also to extend them to all cases, not only between individuals, but in cases where _the government itself should be the prosecutor_. this most probably gave rise to the suspicion so generally entertained of packing a jury; because, by this act, when the crown, as it is called, is the prosecutor, the master of the crown-office, who holds his office under the crown, is the person who either wholly nominates, or has great power in nominating the jury, and therefore it has greatly the appearance of the prosecuting party selecting a jury. the process is as follows: on motion being made in court, by either the plaintiff or defendant, for a special jury, the court grants it or not, at its own discretion. if it be granted, the solicitor of the party that applied for the special jury, gives notice to the solicitor of the adverse party, and a day and hour are appointed for them to meet at the office of the master of the crown-office. the master of the crown-office sends to the sheriff or his deputy, who attends with the sheriff's book of freeholders. from this book, forty-eight names are taken, and a copy thereof given to each of the parties; and, on a future day, notice is again given, and the solicitors meet a second time, and each strikes out twelve names. the list being thus reduced from forty-eight to twenty-four, the first twelve that appear in court, and answer to their names, is the special jury for that cause. the first operation, that of taking the forty-eight names, is called nominating the jury; and the reducing them to twenty-four is called striking the jury. having thus stated the general process, i come to particulars, and the first question will be, how are the forty-eight names, out of which the jury is to be struck, obtained from the sheriff's book? for herein lies the principal ground of suspicion, with respect to what is understood by packing of juries. either they must be taken by some rule agreed upon between the parties, or by some common rule known and established beforehand, or at the discretion of some person, who in such a case, ought to be perfectly disinterested in the issue, as well officially as otherwise. in the case of merchants, and in all cases between individuals, the master of the office, called the crown-office, is officially an indifferent person, and as such may be a proper person to act between the parties, and present them with a list of forty-eight names, out of which each party is to strike twelve. but the case assumes an entire difference of character, when the government itself is the prosecutor. the master of the crown-office is then an officer holding his office under the prosecutor; and it is therefore no wonder that the suspicion of packing juries should, in such cases, have been so prevalent. this will apply with additional force, when the prosecution is commenced against the author or publisher of such works as treat of reforms, and of the abolition of superfluous places and offices, &c, because in such cases every person holding an office, subject to that suspicion, becomes interested as a party; and the office, called the crown-office, may, upon examination, be found to be of this description. i have heard it asserted, that the master of the crown-office is to open the sheriff's book as it were per hazard, and take thereout forty-eight _following_ names, to which the word merchant or esquire is affixed. the former of these are certainly proper, when the case is between merchants, and it has reference to the origin of the custom, and to nothing else. as to the word esquire, every man is an esquire who pleases to call himself esquire; and the sensible part of mankind are leaving it off. but the matter for enquiry is, whether there be any existing law to direct the mode by which the forty-eight names shall be taken, or whether the mode be merely that of custom which the office has created; or whether the selection of the forty-eight names be wholly at the discretion and choice of the master of the crown-office? one or other of the two latter appears to be the case, because the act already mentioned, of the d of george ii. lays down no rule or mode, nor refers to any preceding law--but says only, that special juries shall hereafter be struck, "_in such manner as special juries have been and are usually struck_." this act appears to have been what is generally understood by a "_deep take in_." it was fitted to the spur of the moment in which it was passed, d of george ii. when parties ran high, and it served to throw into the hands of walpole, who was then minister, the management of juries in crown prosecutions, by making the nomination of the forty-eight persons, from whom the jury was to be struck, follow the precedent established by custom between individuals, and by this means slipt into practice with less suspicion. now, the manner of obtaining special juries through the medium of an officer of the government, such, for instance, as a master of the crown-office, may be impartial in the case of merchants or other individuals, but it becomes highly improper and suspicious in cases where the government itself is one of the parties. and it must, upon the whole, appear a strange inconsistency, that a government should keep one officer to commence prosecutions, and another officer to nominate the forty-eight persons from whom the jury is to be struck, both of whom are _officers of the civil list_, and yet continue to call this by the pompous name of _the glorious "right of trial by jury!_" in the case of the king against jordan, for publishing the rights of man, the attorney-general moved for the appointment of a special jury, and the master of the crown-office nominated the forty-eight persons himself, and took them from such part of the sheriff's book as he pleased. the trial did not come on, occasioned by jordan withdrawing his plea; but if it had, it might have afforded an opportunity of discussing the subject of special juries; for though such discussion might have had no effect in the court of king's bench, it would, in the present disposition for enquiry, have had a considerable effect upon the country; and, in all national reforms, this is the proper point to begin at. but a country right, and it will soon put government right. among the improper things acted by the government in the case of special juries, on their own motion, one has been that of treating the jury with a dinner, and afterwards giving each juryman two guineas, if a verdict be found for the prosecution, and only one if otherwise; and it has been long observed, that, in london and westminster, there are persons who appear to make a trade of serving, by being so frequently seen upon special juries. thus much for special juries. as to what is called a _common jury_, upon any government prosecution against the author or publisher of rights of man, during the time of the _present sheriffry_, i have one question to offer, which is, _whether the present sheriffs of london, having publicly prejudged the case, by the part they have taken in procuring an address from the county of middlesex, (however diminutive and insignificant the number of addressers were, being only one hundred and eighteen,) are eligible or proper persons to be intrusted with the power of returning a jury to try the issue of any such prosecution_. but the whole matter appears, at least to me, to be worthy of a more extensive consideration than what relates to any jury, whether special or common; for the case is, whether any part of a whole nation, locally selected as a jury of twelve men always is, be competent to judge and determine for the whole nation, on any matter that relates to systems and principles of government, and whether it be not applying the institution of juries to purposes for which such institutions were not intended? for example, i have asserted, in the work rights of man, that as every man in the nation pays taxes, so has every man a right to a share in government, and consequently that the people of manchester, birmingham, sheffield, leeds, halifax, &c have the same right as those of london. shall, then, twelve men, picked out between temple-bar and whitechapel, because the book happened to be first published there, decide upon the rights of the inhabitants of those towns, or of any other town or village in the nation? having thus spoken of juries, i come next to offer a few observations on the matter contained in the information or prosecution. the work, rights of man, consists of part the first, and fart the second. the first part the prosecutor has thought it most proper to let alone; and from the second fart he has selected a few short paragraphs, making in the whole not quite two pages of the same printing as in the cheap edition. those paragraphs relate chiefly to certain facts, such as the revolution of , and the coming of george the first, commonly called of the house of hanover, or the house of brunswick, or some such house. the arguments, plans and principles contained in the work, the prosecutor has not ventured to attack. they are beyond his reach. the act which the prosecutor appears to rest most upon for the support of the prosecution, is the act intituled, "an act, declaring the rights and liberties of the subject, and settling the succession of the crown," passed in the first year of william and mary, and more commonly known by the name of the "bill of rights." i have called this bill "_a bill of wrongs and of insult_." my reasons, and also my proofs, are as follow: the method and principle which this bill takes for declaring rights and liberties, are in direct contradiction to rights and liberties; it is an assumed attempt to take them wholly from posterity--for the declaration in the said bill is as follows: "the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons, do, in _the name of all the people_, most humbly and faithfully _submit themselves, their heirs, and posterity for ever_;" that is, to william and mary his wife, their heirs and successors. this is a strange way of declaring rights and liberties. but the parliament who made this declaration in the name, and on the part, of the people, had no authority from them for so doing; and with respect to _posterity for ever_, they had no right or authority whatever in the case. it was assumption and usurpation. i have reasoned very extensively against the principle of this bill, in the first part of rights of man; the prosecutor has silently admitted that reasoning, and he now commences a prosecution on the authority of the bill, after admitting the reasoning against it. it is also to be observed, that the declaration in this bill, abject and irrational as it is, had no other intentional operation than against the family of the stuarts, and their abettors. the idea did not then exist, that in the space of an hundred years, posterity might discover a different and much better system of government, and that every species of hereditary government might fall, as popes and monks had fallen before. this, i say, was not then thought of, and therefore the application of the bill, in the present case, is a new, erroneous, and illegal application, and is the same as creating a new bill _ex post facto_. it has ever been the craft of courtiers, for the purpose of keeping up an expensive and enormous civil list, and a mummery of useless and antiquated places and offices at the public expence, to be continually hanging england upon some individual or other, called _king_, though the man might not have capacity to be a parish constable. the folly and absurdity of this, is appearing more and more every day; and still those men continue to act as if no alteration in the public opinion had taken place. they hear each other's nonsense, and suppose the whole nation talks the same gibberish. let such men cry up the house of orange, or the house of brunswick, if they please. they would cry up any other house if it suited their purpose, and give as good reasons for it. but what is this house, or that house, or any other house to a nation? "_for a nation to be free, it is sufficient that she wills it_." her freedom depends wholly upon herself, and not on any house, nor on any individual. i ask not in what light this cargo of foreign houses appears to others, but i will say in what light it appears to me--it was like the trees of the forest, saying unto the bramble, come thou and reign over us. thus much for both their houses. i now come to speak of two other houses, which are also put into the information, and those are the house of lords, and the house of commons. here, i suppose, the attorney-general intends to prove me guilty of speaking either truth or falsehood; for, according to the modern interpretation of libels, it does not signify which, and the only improvement necessary to shew the compleat absurdity of such doctrine, would be, to prosecute a man for uttering a most _false and wicked truth_. i will quote the part i am going to give, from the office copy, with the attorney general's inuendoes, enclosed in parentheses as they stand in the information, and i hope that civil list officer will caution the court not to laugh when he reads them, and also to take care not to laugh himself. the information states, that _thomas paine, being a wicked, malicious, seditious, and evil-disposed person, hath, with force and arms, and most wicked cunning, written and published a certain false, scandalous, malicious, and seditious libel; in one part thereof, to the tenor and effect following, that is to say_-- "with respect to the two houses, of which the english parliament (_meaning the parliament of this kingdom_) is composed, they appear to be effectually influenced into one, and, as a legislature, to have no temper of its own. the minister, (_meaning the minuter employed by the king of this realm, in the administration of the government thereof_) whoever he at any time may be, touches it (_meaning the two houses of parliament of this kingdom_) as with an opium wand, and it (_meaning the two houses of parliament of this kingdom_) sleeps obedience." as i am not malicious enough to disturb their repose, though it be time they should awake, i leave the two houses and the attorney general, to the enjoyment of their dreams, and proceed to a new subject. the gentlemen, to whom i shall next address myself, are those who have stiled themselves "_friends of the people_," holding their meeting at the freemasons' tavern, london.( ) one of the principal members of this society, is mr. grey, who, i believe, is also one of the most independent members in parliament.( ) i collect this opinion from what mr. burke formerly mentioned to me, rather than from any knowledge of my own. the occasion was as follows: i was in england at the time the bubble broke forth about nootka sound: and the day after the king's message, as it is called, was sent to parliament, i wrote a note to mr. burke, that upon the condition the french revolution should not be a subject (for he was then writing the book i have since answered) i would call on him the next day, and mention some matters i was acquainted with, respecting the affair; for it appeared to me extraordinary that any body of men, calling themselves representatives, should commit themselves so precipitately, or "sleep obedience," as parliament was then doing, and run a nation into expence, and perhaps a war, without so much as enquiring into the case, or the subject, of both which i had some knowledge. see in the introduction to this volume chauvelin's account of this association.--_editor._ in the debate in the house of commons, dec. , , mr. grey is thus reported: "mr. grey was not a friend to paine's doctrines, but he was not to be deterred by a man from acknowledging that he considered the rights of man as the foundation of every government, and those who stood out against those rights as conspirators against the people." he severely denounced the proclamation. parl. hist., vol. xxvi.--_editor._ when i saw mr. burke, and mentioned the circumstances to him, he particularly spoke of mr. grey, as the fittest member to bring such matters forward; "for," said mr. burke, "_i am not the proper_ person to do it, as i am in a treaty with mr. pitt about mr. hastings's trial." i hope the attorney general will allow, that mr. burke was then _sleeping his obedience_.--but to return to the society------ i cannot bring myself to believe, that the general motive of this society is any thing more than that by which every former parliamentary opposition has been governed, and by which the present is sufficiently known. failing in their pursuit of power and place within doors, they have now (and that in not a very mannerly manner) endeavoured to possess themselves of that ground out of doors, which, had it not been made by others, would not have been made by them. they appear to me to have watched, with more cunning than candour, the progress of a certain publication, and when they saw it had excited a spirit of enquiry, and was rapidly spreading, they stepped forward to profit by the opportunity, and mr. fox _then_ called it a libel. in saying this, he libelled himself. politicians of this cast, such, i mean, as those who trim between parties, and lye by for events, are to be found in every country, and it never yet happened that they did not do more harm than good. they embarrass business, fritter it to nothing, perplex the people, and the event to themselves generally is, that they go just far enough to make enemies of the few, without going far enough to make friends of the many. whoever will read the declarations of this society, of the th of april and th of may, will find a studied reserve upon all the points that are real abuses. they speak not once of the extravagance of government, of the abominable list of unnecessary and sinecure places and pensions, of the enormity of the civil list, of the excess of taxes, nor of any one matter that substantially affects the nation; and from some conversation that has passed in that society, it does not appear to me that it is any part of their plan to carry this class of reforms into practice. no opposition party ever did, when it gained possession. in making these free observations, i mean not to enter into contention with this society; their incivility towards me is what i should expect from place-hunting reformers. they are welcome, however, to the ground they have advanced upon, and i wish that every individual among them may act in the same upright, uninfluenced, and public spirited manner that i have done. whatever reforms may be obtained, and by whatever means, they will be for the benefit of others and not of me. i have no other interest in the cause than the interest of my heart. the part i have acted has been wholly that of a volunteer, unconnected with party; and when i quit, it shall be as honourably as i began. i consider the reform of parliament, by an application to parliament, as proposed by the society, to be a worn-out hackneyed subject, about which the nation is tired, and the parties are deceiving each other. it is not a subject that is cognizable before parliament, because no government has a right to alter itself, either in whole or in part. the right, and the exercise of that right, appertains to the nation only, and the proper means is by a national convention, elected for the purpose, by all the people. by this, the will of the nation, whether to reform or not, or what the reform shall be, or how far it shall extend, will be known, and it cannot be known by any other means. partial addresses, or separate associations, are not testimonies of the general will. it is, however, certain, that the opinions of men, with respect to systems and principles of government, are changing fast in all countries. the alteration in england, within the space of a little more than a year, is far greater than could have been believed, and it is daily and hourly increasing. it moves along the country with the silence of thought. the enormous expence of government has provoked men to think, by making them feel; and the proclamation has served to increase jealousy and disgust. to prevent, therefore, those commotions which too often and too suddenly arise from suffocated discontents, it is best that the general will should have the full and free opportunity of being publicly ascertained and known. wretched as the state of representation is in england, it is every day becoming worse, because the unrepresented parts of the nation are increasing in population and property, and the represented parts are decreasing. it is, therefore, no ill-grounded estimation to say, that as not one person in seven is represented, at least fourteen millions of taxes out of the seventeen millions, are paid by the unrepresented part; for although copyholds and leaseholds are assessed to the land-tax, the holders are unrepresented. should then a general demur take place as to the obligation of paying taxes, on the ground of not being represented, it is not the representatives of rotten boroughs, nor special juries, that can decide the question. this is one of the possible cases that ought to be foreseen, in order to prevent the inconveniencies that might arise to numerous individuals, by provoking it. i confess i have no idea of petitioning for rights. whatever the rights of people are, they have a right to them, and none have a right either to withhold them, or to grant them. government ought to be established on such principles of justice as to exclude the occasion of all such applications, for wherever they appear they are virtually accusations. i wish that mr. grey, since he has embarked in the business, would take the whole of it into consideration. he will then see that the right of reforming the state of the representation does not reside in parliament, and that the only motion he could consistently make would be, that parliament should _recommend_ the election of a convention of the people, because all pay taxes. but whether parliament recommended it or not, the right of the nation would neither be lessened nor increased thereby. as to petitions from the unrepresented part, they ought not to be looked for. as well might it be expected that manchester, sheffield, &c. should petition the rotten boroughs, as that they should petition the representatives of those boroughs. those two towns alone pay far more taxes than all the rotten boroughs put together, and it is scarcely to be expected they should pay their court either to the boroughs, or the borough-mongers. it ought also to be observed, that what is called parliament, is composed of two houses that have always declared against the right of each other to interfere in any matter that related to the circumstances of either, particularly that of election. a reform, therefore, in the representation cannot, on the ground they have individually taken, become the subject of an act of parliament, because such a mode would include the interference, against which the commons on their part have protested; but must, as well on the ground of formality, as on that of right, proceed from a national convention. let mr. grey, or any other man, sit down and endeavour to put his thoughts together, for the purpose of drawing up an application to parliament for a reform of parliament, and he will soon convince himself of the folly of the attempt. he will find that he cannot get on; that he cannot make his thoughts join, so as to produce any effect; for, whatever formality of words he may use, they will unavoidably include two ideas directly opposed to each other; the one in setting forth the reasons, the other in praying for relief, and the two, when placed together, would stand thus: "_the representation in parliament is so very corrupt, that we can no longer confide in it,--and, therefore, confiding in the justice and wisdom of parliament, we pray_," &c, &c. the heavy manner in which every former proposed application to parliament has dragged, sufficiently shews, that though the nation might not exactly see the awkwardness of the measure, it could not clearly see its way, by those means. to this also may be added another remark, which is, that the worse parliament is, the less will be the inclination to petition it. this indifference, viewed as it ought to be, is one of the strongest censures the public express. it is as if they were to say to them, "ye are not worth reforming." let any man examine the court-kalendar of placemen in both houses, and the manner in which the civil list operates, and he will be at no loss to account for this indifference and want of confidence on one side, nor of the opposition to reforms on the other. who would have supposed that mr. burke, holding forth as he formerly did against secret influence, and corrupt majorities, should become a concealed pensioner? i will now state the case, not for the little purpose of exposing mr. burke, but to shew the inconsistency of any application to a body of men, more than half of whom, as far as the nation can at present know, may be in the same case with himself. towards the end of lord north's administration, mr. burke brought a bill into parliament, generally known by mr. burke's reform bill; in which, among other things, it is enacted, "that no pension exceeding the sum of three hundred pounds a year, shall be granted to any one person, and that the whole amount of the pensions granted in one year shall not exceed six hundred pounds; a list of which, together with the _names of the persons_ to whom the same are granted, shall be laid before parliament in twenty days after the beginning of each session, until the whole pension list shall be reduced to ninety thousand pounds." a provisory clause is afterwards added, "that it shall be lawful for the first commissioner of the treasury, to return into the exchequer any pension or annuity, _without a name_, on his making oath that such pension or annuity is not directly or indirectly for the benefit, use, or behoof of any member of the house of commons." but soon after that administration ended, and the party mr. burke acted with came into power, it appears from the circumstances i am going to relate, that mr. burke became himself a pensioner in disguise; in a similar manner as if a pension had been granted in the name of john nokes, to be privately paid to and enjoyed by tom stiles. the name of edmund burke does not appear in the original transaction: but after the pension was obtained, mr. burke wanted to make the most of it at once, by selling or mortgaging it; and the gentleman in whose name the pension stands, applied to one of the public offices for that purpose. this unfortunately brought forth the name of _edmund burke_, as the real pensioner of , l. per annum.( ) when men trumpet forth what they call the blessings of the constitution, it ought to be known what sort of blessings they allude to. as to the civil list of a million a year, it is not to be supposed that any one man can eat, drink, or consume the whole upon himself. the case is, that above half the sum is annually apportioned among courtiers, and court members, of both houses, in places and offices, altogether insignificant and perfectly useless as to every purpose of civil, rational, and manly government. for instance, of what use in the science and system of government is what is called a lord chamberlain, a master and mistress of the robes, a master of the horse, a master of the hawks, and one hundred other such things? laws derive no additional force, nor additional excellence from such mummery. in the disbursements of the civil list for the year , (which may be seen in sir john sinclair's history of the revenue,) are four separate charges for this mummery office of chamberlain: [illustration: table ] from this sample the rest may be guessed at. as to the master of the hawks, (there are no hawks kept, and if there were, it is no reason the people should pay the expence of feeding them, many of whom are put to it to get bread for their children,) his salary is , l. s. see note at the end of this chapter.--_editor._ and besides a list of items of this kind, sufficient to fill a quire of paper, the pension lists alone are , l. s. d. which is a greater sum than all the expences of the federal government in america amount to. among the items, there are two i had no expectation of finding, and which, in this day of enquiry after civil list influence, ought to be exposed. the one is an annual payment of one thousand seven hundred pounds to the dissenting ministers in england, and the other, eight hundred pounds to those of ireland. this is the fact; and the distribution, as i am informed, is as follows: the whole sum of , l. is paid to one person, a dissenting minister in london, who divides it among eight others, and those eight among such others as they please. the lay-body of the dissenters, and many of their principal ministers, have long considered it as dishonourable, and have endeavoured to prevent it, but still it continues to be secretly paid; and as the world has sometimes seen very fulsome addresses from parts of that body, it may naturally be supposed that the receivers, like bishops and other court-clergy, are not idle in promoting them. how the money is distributed in ireland, i know not. to recount all the secret history of the civil list, is not the intention of this publication. it is sufficient, in this place, to expose its general character, and the mass of influence it keeps alive. it will necessarily become one of the objects of reform; and therefore enough is said to shew that, under its operation, no application to parliament can be expected to succeed, nor can consistently be made. such reforms will not be promoted by the party that is in possession of those places, nor by the opposition who are waiting for them; and as to a _mere reform_, in the state of the representation, the idea that another parliament, differently elected from the present, but still a third component part of the same system, and subject to the controul of the other two parts, will abolish those abuses, is altogether delusion; because it is not only impracticable on the ground of formality, but is unwisely exposing another set of men to the same corruptions that have tainted the present. were all the objects that require reform accomplishable by a mere reform in the state of the representation, the persons who compose the present parliament might, with rather more propriety, be asked to abolish all the abuses themselves, than be applied to as the more instruments of doing it by a future parliament. if the virtue be wanting to abolish the abuse, it is also wanting to act as the means, and the nation must, from necessity, proceed by some other plan. having thus endeavoured to shew what the abject condition of parliament is, and the impropriety of going a second time over the same ground that has before miscarried, i come to the remaining part of the subject. there ought to be, in the constitution of every country, a mode of referring back, on any extraordinary occasion, to the sovereign and original constituent power, which is the nation itself. the right of altering any part of a government, cannot, as already observed, reside in the government, or that government might make itself what it pleased. it ought also to be taken for granted, that though a nation may feel inconveniences, either in the excess of taxation, or in the mode of expenditure, or in any thing else, it may not at first be sufficiently assured in what part of its government the defect lies, or where the evil originates. it may be supposed to be in one part, and on enquiry be found to be in another; or partly in all. this obscurity is naturally interwoven with what are called mixed governments. be, however, the reform to be accomplished whatever it may, it can only follow in consequence of obtaining a full knowledge of all the causes that have rendered such reform necessary, and every thing short of this is guess-work or frivolous cunning. in this case, it cannot be supposed that any application to parliament can bring forward this knowledge. that body is itself the supposed cause, or one of the supposed causes, of the abuses in question; and cannot be expected, and ought not to be asked, to give evidence against itself. the enquiry, therefore, which is of necessity the first step in the business, cannot be trusted to parliament, but must be undertaken by a distinct body of men, separated from every suspicion of corruption or influence. instead, then, of referring to rotten boroughs and absurd corporations for addresses, or hawking them about the country to be signed by a few dependant tenants, the real and effectual mode would be to come at once to the point, and to ascertain the sense of the nation by electing a national convention. by this method, as already observed, the general will, whether to reform or not, or what the reform shall be, or how far it shall extend, will be known, and it cannot be known by any other means. such a body, empowered and supported by the nation, will have authority to demand information upon all matters necessary to be en-quired into; and no minister, nor any person, will dare to refuse it. it will then be seen whether seventeen millions of taxes are necessary, and for what purposes they are expended. the concealed pensioners will then be obliged to unmask; and the source of influence and corruption, if any such there be, will be laid open to the nation, not for the purpose of revenge, but of redress. by taking this public and national ground, all objections against partial addresses on the one side, or private associations on the other, will be done away; the nation will declare its own reforms; and the clamour about party and faction, or ins or outs, will become ridiculous. the plan and organization of a convention is easy in practice. in the first place, the number of inhabitants in every county can be sufficiently ascertained from the number of houses assessed to the house and window-light tax in each county. this will give the rule for apportioning the number of members to be elected to the national convention in each of the counties. if the total number of inhabitants in england be seven millions, and the total number of members to be elected to the convention be one thousand, the number of members to be elected in a county containing one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants will be _twenty-one_, and in like proportion for any other county. as the election of a convention must, in order to ascertain the general sense of the nation, go on grounds different from that of parliamentary elections, the mode that best promises this end will have no difficulties to combat with from absurd customs and pretended rights. the right of every man will be the same, whether he lives in a city, a town, or a village. the custom of attaching rights to _place_, or in other words, to inanimate matter, instead of to the _person_, independently of place, is too absurd to make any part of a rational argument. as every man in the nation, of the age of twenty-one years, pays taxes, either out of the property he possesses, or out of the product of his labor, which is property to him; and is amenable in his own person to every law of the land; so has every one the same equal right to vote, and no one part of the nation, nor any individual, has a right to dispute the right of another. the man who should do this ought to forfeit the exercise of his _own_ right, for a term of years. this would render the punishment consistent with the crime. when a qualification to vote is regulated by years, it is placed on the firmest possible ground; because the qualification is such, as nothing but dying before the time can take away; and the equality of rights, as a principle, is recognized in the act of regulating the exercise. but when rights are placed upon, or made dependant upon property, they are on the most precarious of all tenures. "riches make themselves wings, and fly away," and the rights fly with them; and thus they become lost to the man when they would be of most value. it is from a strange mixture of tyranny and cowardice, that exclusions have been set up and continued. the boldness to do wrong at first, changes afterwards into cowardly craft, and at last into fear. the representatives in england appear now to act as if they were afraid to do right, even in part, lest it should awaken the nation to a sense of all the wrongs it has endured. this case serves to shew, that the same conduct that best constitutes the safety of an individual, namely, a strict adherence to principle, constitutes also the safety of a government, and that without it safety is but an empty name. when the rich plunder the poor of his rights, it becomes an example to the poor to plunder the rich of his property; for the rights of the one are as much property to him, as wealth is property to the other, and the _little all_ is as dear as the _much_. it is only by setting out on just principles that men are trained to be just to each other; and it will always be found, that when the rich protect the rights of the poor, the poor will protect the property of the rich. but the guarantee, to be effectual, must be parliamentarily reciprocal. exclusions are not only unjust, but they frequently operate as injuriously to the party who monopolizes, as to those who are excluded. when men seek to exclude others from participating in the exercise of any right, they should, at least, be assured, that they can effectually perform the whole of the business they undertake; for, unless they do this, themselves will be losers by the monopoly. this has been the case with respect to the monopolized right of election. the monopolizing party has not been able to keep the parliamentary representation, to whom the power of taxation was entrusted, in the state it ought to have been, and have thereby multiplied taxes upon themselves equally with those who were excluded. a great deal has been, and will continue to be said, about disqualifications, arising from the commission of offences; but were this subject urged to its full extent, it would disqualify a great number of the present electors, together with their representatives; for, of all offences, none are more destructive to the morals of society than bribery and corruption. it is, therefore, civility to such persons to pass this subject over, and to give them a fair opportunity of recovering, or rather of creating character. every thing, in the present mode of electioneering in england, is the reverse of what it ought to be, and the vulgarity that attends elections is no other than the natural consequence of inverting the order of the system. in the first place, the candidate seeks the elector, instead of the elector seeking for a representative; and the electors are advertised as being in the interest of the candidate, instead of the candidate being in the interest of the electors. the candidate pays the elector for his vote, instead of the nation paying the representative for his time and attendance on public business. the complaint for an undue election is brought by the candidate, as if he, and not the electors, were the party aggrieved; and he takes on himself, at any period of the election, to break it up, by declining, as if the election was in his right and not in theirs. the compact that was entered into at the last westminster election between two of the candidates (mr. fox and lord hood,) was an indecent violation of the principles of election. the candidates assumed, in their own persons, the rights of the electors; for, it was only in the body of the electors, and not at all in the candidates, that the right of making any such compact, or compromise, could exist. but the principle of election and representation is so completely done away, in every stage thereof, that inconsistency has no longer the power of surprising. neither from elections thus conducted, nor from rotten borough addressers, nor from county-meetings, promoted by placemen and pensioners, can the sense of the nation be known. it is still corruption appealing to itself. but a convention of a thousand persons, fairly elected, would bring every matter to a decided issue. as to county-meetings, it is only persons of leisure, or those who live near to the place of meeting, that can attend, and the number on such occasions is but like a drop in the bucket compared with the whole. the only consistent service which such meetings could render, would be that of apportioning the county into convenient districts, and when this is done, each district might, according to its number of inhabitants, elect its quota of county members to the national convention; and the vote of each elector might be taken in the parish where he resided, either by ballot or by voice, as he should chuse to give it. a national convention thus formed, would bring together the sense and opinions of every part of the nation, fairly taken. the science of government, and the interest of the public, and of the several parts thereof, would then undergo an ample and rational discussion, freed from the language of parliamentary disguise. but in all deliberations of this kind, though men have a right to reason with, and endeavour to convince each other, upon any matter that respects their common good, yet, in point of practice, the majority of opinions, when known, forms a rule for the whole, and to this rule every good citizen practically conforms. mr. burke, as if he knew, (for every concealed pensioner has the opportunity of knowing,) that the abuses acted under the present system, are too flagrant to be palliated, and that the majority of opinions, whenever such abuses should be made public, would be for a general and effectual reform, has endeavoured to preclude the event, by sturdily denying the right of a majority of a nation to act as a whole. let us bestow a thought upon this case. when any matter is proposed as a subject for consultation, it necessarily implies some mode of decision. common consent, arising from absolute necessity, has placed this in a majority of opinions; because, without it, there can be no decision, and consequently no order. it is, perhaps, the only case in which mankind, however various in their ideas upon other matters, can consistently be unanimous; because it is a mode of decision derived from the primary original right of every individual concerned; _that_ right being first individually exercised in giving an opinion, and whether that opinion shall arrange with the minority or the majority, is a subsequent accidental thing that neither increases nor diminishes the individual original right itself. prior to any debate, enquiry, or investigation, it is not supposed to be known on which side the majority of opinions will fall, and therefore, whilst this mode of decision secures to every one the right of giving an opinion, it admits to every one an equal chance in the ultimate event. among the matters that will present themselves to the consideration of a national convention, there is one, wholly of a domestic nature, but so marvellously loaded with con-fusion, as to appear at first sight, almost impossible to be reformed. i mean the condition of what is called law. but, if we examine into the cause from whence this confusion, now so much the subject of universal complaint, is produced, not only the remedy will immediately present itself, but, with it, the means of preventing the like case hereafter. in the first place, the confusion has generated itself from the absurdity of every parliament assuming to be eternal in power, and the laws partake in a similar manner, of this assumption. they have no period of legal or natural expiration; and, however absurd in principle, or inconsistent in practice many of them have become, they still are, if not especially repealed, considered as making a part of the general mass. by this means the body of what is called law, is spread over a space of _several hundred years_, comprehending laws obsolete, laws repugnant, laws ridiculous, and every other kind of laws forgotten or remembered; and what renders the case still worse, is, that the confusion multiplies with the progress of time. (*) to bring this misshapen monster into form, and to prevent its lapsing again into a wilderness state, only two things, and those very simple, are necessary. the first is, to review the whole mass of laws, and to bring forward such only as are worth retaining, and let all the rest drop; and to give to the laws so brought forward a new era, commencing from the time of such reform. * in the time of henry iv. a law was passed making it felony "to multiply gold or silver, or to make use of the craft of multiplication," and this law remained two hundred and eighty-six years upon the statute books. it was then repealed as being ridiculous and injurious.--_author_. secondly; that at the expiration of every twenty-one years (or any other stated period) a like review shall again be taken, and the laws, found proper to be retained, be again carried forward, commencing with that date, and the useless laws dropped and discontinued. by this means there can be no obsolete laws, and scarcely such a thing as laws standing in direct or equivocal contradiction to each other, and every person will know the period of time to which he is to look back for all the laws in being. it is worth remarking, that while every other branch of science is brought within some commodious system, and the study of it simplified by easy methods, the laws take the contrary course, and become every year more complicated, entangled, confused, and obscure. among the paragraphs which the attorney general has taken from the _rights of man_, and put into his information, one is, that where i have said, "that with respect to regular law, there is _scarcely such a thing_." as i do not know whether the attorney-general means to show this expression to be libellous, because it is true, or because it is false, i shall make no other reply to him in this place, than by remarking, that if almanack-makers had not been more judicious than law-makers, the study of almanacks would by this time have become as abstruse as the study of the law, and we should hear of a library of almanacks as we now do of statutes; but by the simple operation of letting the obsolete matter drop, and carrying forward that only which is proper to be retained, all that is necessary to be known is found within the space of a year, and laws also admit of being kept within some given period. i shall here close this letter, so far as it respects the addresses, the proclamation, and the prosecution; and shall offer a few observations to the society, styling itself "the friends of the people." that the science of government is beginning to be better understood than in former times, and that the age of fiction and political superstition, and of craft and mystery, is passing away, are matters which the experience of every day-proves to be true, as well in england as in other countries. as therefore it is impossible to calculate the silent progress of opinion, and also impossible to govern a nation after it has changed its habits of thinking, by the craft or policy that it was governed by before, the only true method to prevent popular discontents and commotions is, to throw, by every fair and rational argument, all the light upon the subject that can possibly be thrown; and at the same time, to open the means of collecting the general sense of the nation; and this cannot, as already observed, be done by any plan so effectually as a national convention. here individual opinion will quiet itself by having a centre to rest upon. the society already mentioned, (which is made up of men of various descriptions, but chiefly of those called foxites,) appears to me, either to have taken wrong grounds from want of judgment, or to have acted with cunning reserve. it is now amusing the people with a new phrase, namely, that of "a temperate and moderate reform," the interpretation of which is, _a continuance of the abuses as long as possible, if we cannot hold all let us hold some_. who are those that are frightened at reforms? are the public afraid that their taxes should be lessened too much? are they afraid that sinecure places and pensions should be abolished too fast? are the poor afraid that their condition should be rendered too comfortable? is the worn-out mechanic, or the aged and decayed tradesman, frightened at the prospect of receiving ten pounds a year out of the surplus taxes? is the soldier frightened at the thoughts of his discharge, and three shillings per week during life? is the sailor afraid that press-warrants will be abolished? the society mistakes the fears of borough-mongers, placemen, and pensioners, for the fears of the people; and the _temperate and moderate reform_ it talks of, is calculated to suit the condition of the former. those words, "temperate and moderate," are words either of political cowardice, or of cunning, or seduction.--a thing, moderately good, is not so good as it ought to be. moderation in temper, is always a virtue; but moderation in principle, is a species of vice. but who is to be the judge of what is a temperate and moderate reform? the society is the representative of nobody; neither can the unrepresented part of the nation commit this power to those in parliament, in whose election they had no choice; and, therefore, even upon the ground the society has taken, recourse must be had to a national convention. the objection which mr. fox made to mr. grey's proposed motion for a parliamentary reform was, that it contained no plan.--it certainly did not. but the plan very easily presents itself; and whilst it is fair for all parties, it prevents the dangers that might otherwise arise from private or popular discontent. thomas paine. editorial note on burke's alleged secret pension.--by reference to vol. ii., pp. , , of this work, it will be seen that paine mentions a report that burke was a "pensioner in a fictitious name." a letter of john hall to a relative in leicester, (london, may , .) says: "you will remember that there was a vote carried, about the conclusion of the american war, that the influence of the crown had increased, was increasing, and should be diminished. burke, poor, and like a good angler, baited a hook with a bill to bring into parliament, that no pensions should be given above £ a year, but what should be publicly granted, and for what, (i may not be quite particular.) to stop that he took in another person's name £ a year for life, and some time past he disposed of it, or sold his life out. he has been very still since his declension from the whigs, and is not concerned in the slave-trade [question?] as i hear of." this letter, now in possession of hall's kinsman, dr. dutton steele of philadelphia, contains an item not in paine's account, which may have been derived from it. hall was an english scientific engineer, and acquainted with intelligent men in london. paine was rather eager for a judicial encounter with burke, and probably expected to be sued by him for libel, as he (burke) had once sued the "public advertiser" for a personal accusation. but burke remained quiet under this charge, and paine, outlawed, and in france, had no opportunity for summoning witnesses in its support. the biographers of burke have silently passed over the accusation, and this might be fair enough were this unconfirmed charge made against a public man of stainless reputation in such matters. but though burke escaped parliamentary censure for official corruption (may , , by only majority) he has never been vindicated. it was admitted that he had restored to office a cashier and an accountant dismissed for dishonesty by his predecessor. ("pari. hist.," xxiii., pp. , .) he escaped censure by agreeing to suspend them. one was proved guilty, the other committed suicide. it was subsequently shown that one of the men had been an agent of the burkes in raising india stock. (dilke's "papers of a critic," ii-, p. --"dict. nat biography": art burke.) paine, in his letter to the attorney-general (iv. of this volume), charged that burke had been a "masked pensioner" ten years. the date corresponds with a secret arrangement made in with burke for a virtual pension to his son, for life, and his mother. under date april of that year, burke, writing to william burke at madras, reports his appointment as paymaster: "the office is to be l. certain. young richard [his son] is the deputy with a salary of l. the office to be reformed according to the bill. there is enough emoluments. in decency it could not be more. something considerable is also to be secured for the life of young richard to be a security for him and his mother."("mem. and cor. of charles james fox," i., p. .) it is thus certain that the rockingham ministry were doing for the paymaster all they could "in decency," and that while posing as a reformer in reducing the expenses of that office, he was arranging for secret advantages to his family. it is said that the arrangement failed by his loss of office, but while so many of burke's papers are withheld from the public (if not destroyed), it cannot be certain that something was not done of the kind charged by paine. that burke was not strict in such matters is further shown by his efforts to secure for his son the rich sinecure of the clerkship of the polls, in which he failed. burke was again paymaster in - , and this time remained long enough in office to repeat more successfully his secret attempts to secure irregular pensions for his family. on april , , messrs. sotheby, wilkinson, and hodge sold in london (lot ) a letter of burke (which i have not seen in print), dated july , . it was written to the chairman of the commission on public accounts, who had required him to render his accounts for the time he was in office as paymaster-general, - . burke refuses to do so in four angry and quibbling pages, and declares he will appeal to his country against the demand if it is pressed. why should burke wish to conceal his accounts? there certainly were suspicions around burke, and they may have caused pitt to renounce his intention, conveyed to burke, august , , of asking parliament to bestow on him a pension. "it is not exactly known," says one of burke's editors, "what induced mr. pitt to decline bringing before parliament a measure which he had himself proposed without any solicitation whatever on the part of burke." (burke's "works," english ed., , ii., p. .) the pensions were given without consultation with parliament-- l. granted him by the king from the civil list, and l. by pitt in west indian / per cents. burke, on taking his seat beside pitt in the great paine parliament (december, ), had protested that he had not abandoned his party through expectation of a pension, but the general belief of those with whom he had formerly acted was that he had been promised a pension. a couplet of the time ran: "a pension makes him change his plan, and loudly damn the rights of man." writing in , cobbett says: "as my lord grenville introduced the name of burke, suffer me, my lord, to introduce the name of the man [paine] who put this burke to shame, who drove him off the public stage to seek shelter in the pension list, and who is now named fifty million times where the name of the pensioned burke is mentioned once."-- _editor._ x. address to the people of france. paris, sept. , [ .] first year of the republic. fellow citizens, i receive, with affectionate gratitude, the honour which the late national assembly has conferred upon me, by adopting me a citizen of france: and the additional honor of being elected by my fellow citizens a member of the national convention.( ) happily impressed, as i am, by those testimonies of respect shown towards me as an individual, i feel my felicity increased by seeing the barrier broken down that divided patriotism by spots of earth, and limited citizenship to the soil, like vegetation. had those honours been conferred in an hour of national tranquillity, they would have afforded no other means of shewing my affection, than to have accepted and enjoyed them; but they come accompanied with circumstances that give me the honourable opportunity of commencing my citizenship in the stormy hour of difficulties. i come not to enjoy repose. convinced that the cause of france is the cause of all mankind, and that liberty cannot be purchased by a wish, i gladly share with you the dangers and honours necessary to success. the national assembly (august , ) conferred the title of "french citizen" on "priestley, payne, bentham, wilberforce, clarkson, mackintosh, campe, cormelle, paw, david williams, gorani, anacharsis clootz, pestalozzi, washington, hamilton, madison, klopstoc, kosciusko, gilleers."--_editor._. vol ni-- i am well aware that the moment of any great change, such as that accomplished on the th of august, is unavoidably the moment of terror and confusion. the mind, highly agitated by hope, suspicion and apprehension, continues without rest till the change be accomplished. but let us now look calmly and confidently forward, and success is certain. it is no longer the paltry cause of kings, or of this, or of that individual, that calls france and her armies into action. it is the great cause of all. it is the establishment of a new aera, that shall blot despotism from the earth, and fix, on the lasting principles of peace and citizenship, the great republic of man. it has been my fate to have borne a share in the commencement and complete establishment of one revolution, (i mean the revolution of america.) the success and events of that revolution are encouraging to us. the prosperity and happiness that have since flowed to that country, have amply rewarded her for all the hardships she endured and for all the dangers she encountered. the principles on which that revolution began, have extended themselves to europe; and an over-ruling providence is regenerating the old world by the principles of the new. the distance of america from all the other parts of the globe, did not admit of her carrying those principles beyond her own situation. it is to the peculiar honour of france, that she now raises the standard of liberty for all nations; and in fighting her own battles, contends for the rights of all mankind. the same spirit of fortitude that insured success to america; will insure it to france, for it is impossible to conquer a nation determined to be free! the military circumstances that now unite themselves to france, are such as the despots of the earth know nothing of, and can form no calculation upon. they know not what it is to fight against a nation; they have only been accustomed to make war upon each other, and they know, from system and practice, how to calculate the probable success of despot against despot; and here their knowledge and their experience end. but in a contest like the present a new and boundless variety of circumstances arise, that deranges all such customary calculations. when a whole nation acts as an army, the despot knows not the extent of the power against which he contends. new armies arise against him with the necessity of the moment. it is then that the difficulties of an invading enemy multiply, as in the former case they diminished; and he finds them at their height when he expected them to end. the only war that has any similarity of circumstances with the present, is the late revolution war in america. on her part, as it now is in france, it was a war of the whole nation:--there it was that the enemy, by beginning to conquer, put himself in a condition of being conquered. his first victories prepared him for defeat. he advanced till he could not retreat, and found himself in the midst of a nation of armies. were it now to be proposed to the austrians and prussians, to escort them into the middle of france, and there leave them to make the most of such a situation, they would see too much into the dangers of it to accept the offer, and the same dangers would attend them, could they arrive there by any other means. where, then, is the military policy of their attempting to obtain, by force, that which they would refuse by choice? but to reason with despots is throwing reason away. the best of arguments is a vigorous preparation. man is ever a stranger to the ways by which providence regulates the order of things. the interference of foreign despots may serve to introduce into their own enslaved countries the principles they come to oppose. liberty and equality are blessings too great to be the inheritance of france alone. it is an honour to her to be their first champion; and she may now say to her enemies, with a mighty voice, "o! ye austrians, ye prussians! ye who now turn your bayonets against us, it is for you, it is for all europe, it is for all mankind, and not for france alone, that she raises the standard of liberty and equality!" the public cause has hitherto suffered from the contradictions contained in the constitution of the constituent assembly. those contradictions have served to divide the opinions of individuals at home, and to obscure the great principles of the revolution in other countries. but when those contradictions shall be removed, and the constitution be made conformable to the declaration of rights; when the bagatelles of monarchy, royalty, regency, and hereditary succession, shall be exposed, with all their absurdities, a new ray of light will be thrown over the world, and the revolution will derive new strength by being universally understood. the scene that now opens itself to france extends far beyond the boundaries of her own dominions. every nation is becoming her colleague, and every court is become her enemy. it is now the cause of all nations, against the cause of all courts. the terror that despotism felt, clandestinely begot a confederation of despots; and their attack upon france was produced by their fears at home. in entering on this great scene, greater than any nation has yet been called to act in, let us say to the agitated mind, be calm. let us punish by instructing, rather than by revenge. let us begin the new ara by a greatness of friendship, and hail the approach of union and success. your fellow-citizen, thomas paine. xi. anti-monarchal essay. for the use of new republicans.( ) when we reach some great good, long desired, we begin by felicitating ourselves. we triumph, we give ourselves up to this joy without rendering to our minds any full account of our reasons for it. then comes reflexion: we pass in review all the circumstances of our new happiness; we compare it in detail with our former condition; and each of these thoughts becomes a fresh enjoyment. this satisfaction, elucidated and well-considered, we now desire to procure for our readers. in seeing royalty abolished and the republic established, all france has resounded with unanimous plaudits.( ) yet, citizen president: in the name of the deputies of the department of the pas de calais, i have the honor of presenting to the convention the felicitations of the general council of the commune of calais on the abolition of royalty. translated for this work from le patriote françois, "samedi octobre, , l'an ier de la république. supplement au no. ," in the bibliothèque nationale, paris. it is headed, "essai anti-monarchique, à l'usage des nouveaux républicains, tiré de la feuille villageoise." i have not found this feuille, but no doubt brissot, in editing the essay for his journal (le patriote françois) abridged it, and in one instance paine is mentioned by name. although in this essay paine occasionally repeats sentences used elsewhere, and naturally maintains his well-known principles, the work has a peculiar interest as indicating the temper and visions of the opening revolution.--_editor._ royalty was abolished by the national convention on the first day of its meeting, september , , the revolutionary calendar beginning next day. paine was chosen by his fellow-deputies of calais to congratulate the convention, and did so in a brief address, dated october , which was loaned by m. charavay to the historical exposition of the revolution at paris, , where i made the subjoined translation: "folly of oar ancestor», who have placed us under the necessity of treating gravely (solennellement) the abolition of a phantom (fantôme).--thomas paine, deputy."-- _editor._ amid the joy inspired by this event, one cannot forbear some pain at the some who clap their hands do not sufficiently understand the condition they are leaving or that which they are assuming. the perjuries of louis, the conspiracies of his court, the wildness of his worthy brothers, have filled every frenchman with horror, and this race was dethroned in their hearts before its fall by legal decree. but it is little to throw down an idol; it is the pedestal that above all must be broken down; it is the regal office rather than the incumbent that is murderous. all do not realize this. why is royalty an absurd and detestable government? why is the republic a government accordant with nature and reason? at the present time a frenchman should put himself in a position to answer these two questions clearly. for, in fine, if you are free and contented it is yet needful that you should know why. let us first discuss royalty or monarchy. although one often wishes to distinguish between these names, common usage gives them the same sense. royalty. bands of brigands unite to subvert a country, place it under tribute, seize its lands, enslave its inhabitants. the expedition completed, the chieftain of the robbers adopts the title of monarch or king. such is the origin of royalty among all tribes--huntsmen, agriculturists, shepherds. a second brigand arrives who finds it equitable to take away by force what was conquered by violence: he dispossesses the first; he chains him, kills him, reigns in his place. ere long time effaces the memory of this origin; the successors rule under a new form; they do a little good, from policy; they corrupt all who surround them; they invent fictitious genealogies to make their families sacred ( ); the knavery of priests comes to their aid; they take religion for a life-guard: thenceforth tyranny becomes immortal, the usurped power becomes an hereditary right. the boston investigator's compilation of paine's works contains the following as supposed to be mr. paine's: "royal pedigree.--george the third, who was the grandson of george the second, who was the son of george the first, who was the son of the princess sophia, who was the cousin of anne, who was the sister of william and mary, who were the daughter and son-in-law of james the second, who was the son of charles the first, who was a traitor to his country and decapitated as such, who was the son of james the first, who was the son of mary, who was the sister of edward the sixth, who was the son of henry the eighth, who was the coldblooded murderer of his wives, and the promoter of the protestant religion, who was the son of henry the seventh, who slew richard the third, who smothered his nephew edward the fifth, who was the son of edward the fourth, who with bloody richard slew henry the sixth, who succeeded henry the fifth, who was the son of henry the fourth, who was the cousin of richard the second, who was the son of edward the third, who was the son of richard the second, who was the son of edward the first, who was the son of henry the third, who was the son of john, who was the brother of richard the first, who was the son of henry the second, who was the son of matilda, who was the daughter of henry the first, who was the brother of william rufus, who was the son of william the conqueror, who was the son of a whore."--_editor._ the effects of royalty have been entirely harmonious with its origin. what scenes of horror, what refinements of iniquity, do the annals of monarchies present! if we should paint human nature with a baseness of heart, an hypocrisy, from which all must recoil and humanity disavow, it would be the portraiture of kings, their ministers and courtiers. and why should it not be so? what should such a monstrosity produce but miseries and crimes? what is monarchy? it has been finely disguised, and the people familiarized with the odious title: in its real sense the word signifies _the absolute power of one single individual_, who may with impunity be stupid, treacherous, tyrannical, etc. is it not an insult to nations to wish them so governed? government by a single individual is vicious in itself, independently of the individual's vices. for however little a state, the prince is nearly always too small: where is the proportion between one man and the affairs of a whole nation? true, some men of genius have been seen under the diadem; but the evil is then even greater: the ambition of such a man impels him to conquest and despotism, his subjects soon have to lament his glory, and sing their _te-deums_ while perishing with hunger. such is the history of louis xiv. and so many others. but if ordinary men in power repay you with incapacity or with princely vices? but those who come to the front in monarchies are frequently mere mean mischief-makers, commonplace knaves, petty intriguers, whose small wits, which in courts reach large places, serve only to display their ineptitude in public, as soon as they appear. (*) in short, monarchs do nothing, and their ministers do evil: this is the history of all monarchies. but if royalty as such is baneful, as hereditary succession it is equally revolting and ridiculous. what! there exists among my kind a man who pretends that he is born to govern me? whence derived he such right? from his and my ancestors, says he. but how could they transmit to him a right they did not possess? man has no authority over generations unborn. i cannot be the slave of the dead, more than of the living. suppose that instead of our posterity, it was we who should succeed ourselves: we should not to-day be able to despoil ourselves of the rights which would belong to us in our second life: for a stronger reason we cannot so despoil others. an hereditary crown! a transmissible throne! what a notion! with even a little reflexion, can any one tolerate it? should human beings then be the property of certain individuals, born or to be born? are we then to treat our descendants in advance as cattle, who shall have neither will nor rights of their own? to inherit government is to inherit peoples, as if they were herds. it is the basest, the most shameful fantasy that ever degraded mankind. it is wrong to reproach kings with their ferocity, their brutal indifference, the oppressions of the people, and molestations of citizens: it is hereditary succession that makes them what they are: this breeds monsters as a marsh breeds vipers. * j. j. rousseau, contrat social.--author. the logic on which the hereditary prince rests is in effect this: i derive my power from my birth; i derive my birth from god; therefore i owe nothing to men. it is little that he has at hand a complacent minister, he continues to indulge, conscientiously, in all the crimes of tyranny. this has been seen in all times and countries. tell me, then, what is there in common between him who is master of a people, and the people of whom he is master? are these masters really of their kind? it is by sympathy that we are good and human: with whom does a monarch sympathize? when my neighbor suffers i pity, because i put myself in his place: a monarch pities none, because he has never been, can never be, in any other place than his own. a monarch is an egoist by nature, the _egoist par excellence_. a thousand traits show that this kind of men have no point of contact with the rest of humanity. there was demanded of charles ii. the punishment of lauderdale, his favorite, who had infamously oppressed the scotch. "yes," said charles coolly, "this man has done much against the scotch, but i cannot see that he has done anything against my interests." louis xiv. often said: "if i follow the wishes of the people, i cannot act the king." even such phrases as "misfortunes of the state," "safety of the state," filled louis xiv. with wrath. could nature make a law which should assure virtue and wisdom invariably in these privileged castes that perpetuate themselves on thrones, there would be no objection to their hereditary succession. but let us pass europe in review: all of its monarchs are the meanest of men. this one a tyrant, that one an imbecile, another a traitor, the next a debauchee, while some muster all the vices. it looks as if fate and nature had aimed to show our epoch, and all nations, the absurdity and enormity of royalty. but i mistake: this epoch has nothing peculiar. for, such is the essential vice of this royal succession by animal filiation, the peoples have not even the chances of nature,--they cannot even hope for a good prince as an alternative. all things conspire to deprive of reason and justice an individual reared to command others. the word of young dionysius was very sensible: his father, reproaching him for a shameful action, said, "have i given thee such example?" "ah," answered the youth, "thy father was not a king!" in truth, were laughter on such a subject permissible, nothing would suggest ideas more burlesque than this fantastic institution of hereditary kings. would it not be believed, to look at them, that there really exist particular lineages possessing certain qualities which enter the blood of the embryo prince, and adapt him physically for royalty, as a horse for the racecourse? but then, in this wild supposition, it yet becomes necessary to assure the genuine family descent of the heir presumptive. to perpetuate the noble race of andalusian chargers, the circumstances pass before witnesses, and similar precautions seem necessary, however indecent, to make sure that the trickeries of queens shall not supply thrones with bastards, and that the kings, like the horses, shall always be thoroughbreds. whether one jests or reasons, there is found in this idea of hereditary royalty only folly and shame. what then is this office, which may be filled by infants or idiots? some talent is required to be a simple workman; to be a king there is need to have only the human shape, to be a living automaton. we are astonished when reading that the egyptians placed on the throne a flint, and called it their king. we smile at the dog barkouf, sent by an asiatic despot to govern one of his provinces.(*) but mon-archs of this kind are less mischievous and less absurd than those before whom whole peoples prostrate themselves. the flint and the dog at least imposed on nobody. none ascribed to them qualities or characters they did not possess. they were not styled 'father of the people,'--though this were hardly more ridiculous than to give that title to a rattle-head whom inheritance crowns at eighteen. better a mute than an animate idol. why, there can hardly be cited an instance of a great man having children worthy of him, yet you will have the royal function pass from father to son! as well declare that a wise man's son will be wise. a king is an administrator, and an hereditary administrator is as absurd as an author by birthright. * see the first year of la feuille villageoise, no. .-- author. [cf. montaigne's essays, chap. xii.--_editor._] royalty is thus as contrary to common sense as to com-mon right. but it would be a plague even if no more than an absurdity; for a people who can bow down in honor of a silly thing is a debased people. can they be fit for great affairs who render equal homage to vice and virtue, and yield the same submission to ignorance and wisdom? of all institutions, none has caused more intellectual degeneracy. this explains the often-remarked abjectness of character under monarchies. such is also the effect of this contagious institution that it renders equality impossible, and draws in its train the presumption and the evils of "nobility." if you admit inheritance of an office, why not that of a distinction? the nobility's heritage asks only homage, that of the crown commands submission. when a man says to me, 'i am born illustrious,' i merely smile; when he says 'i am born your master,' i set my foot on him. when the convention pronounced the abolition of royalty none rose for the defence that was expected. on this subject a philosopher, who thought discussion should always precede enactment, proposed a singular thing; he desired that the convention should nominate an orator commissioned to plead before it the cause of royalty, so that the pitiful arguments by which it has in all ages been justified might appear in broad daylight. judges give one accused, however certain his guilt, an official defender. in the ancient senate of venice there existed a public officer whose function was to contest all propositions, however incontestible, or however perfect their evidence. for the rest, pleaders for royalty are not rare: let us open them, and see what the most specious of royalist reasoners have said. . _a king is necessary to preserve a people from the tyranny of powerful men_. establish the rights of man( ); enthrone equality; form a good constitution; divide well its powers; let there be no privileges, no distinctions of birth, no monopolies; make safe the liberty of industry and of trade, the equal distribution of [family] inheritances, publicity of administration, freedom of the press: these things all established, you will be assured of good laws, and need not fear the powerful men. willingly or unwillingly, all citizens will be under the law. the reader should bear in mind that this phrase, now used vaguely, had for paine and his political school a special significance; it implied a fundamental declaration of individual rights, of supreme force and authority, invasion which, either by legislatures, law courts, majorities, or administrators, was to be regarded as the worst treason and despotism.--_editor._ . _the legislature might usurp authority, and a king is needed to restrain it_. with representatives, frequently renewed, who neither administer nor judge, whose functions are determined by the laws; with national conventions, with primary assemblies, which can be convoked any moment; with a people knowing how to read, and how to defend itself; with good journals, guns, and pikes; a legislature would have a good deal of trouble in enjoying any months of tyranny. let us not suppose an evil for the sake of its remedy. . _a king is needed to give force to executive power_. this might be said while there existed nobles, a priesthood, parliaments, the privileged of every kind. but at present who can resist the law, which is the will of all, whose execution is the interest of all? on the contrary the existence of an hereditary prince inspires perpetual distrust among the friends of liberty; his authority is odious to them; in checking despotism they constantly obstruct the action of government. observe how feeble the executive power was found, after our recent pretence of marrying royalty with liberty. take note, for the rest, that those who talk in this way are men who believe that the king and the executive power are only one and the same thing: readers of _la feuille villageoise_ are more advanced.(*) * see no. .--_author_ others use this bad reasoning: "were there no hereditary chief there would be an elective chief: the citizens would side with this man or that, and there would be a civil war at every election." in the first place, it is certain that hereditary succession alone has produced the civil wars of france and england; and that beyond this are the pre-tended rights, of royal families which have twenty times drawn on these nations the scourge of foreign wars. it is, in fine, the heredity of crowns that has caused the troubles of regency, which thomas paine calls monarchy at nurse. but above all it must be said, that if there be an elective chief, that chief will not be a king surrounded by courtiers, burdened with pomp, inflated by idolatries, and endowed with thirty millions of money; also, that no citizen will be tempted to injure himself by placing another citizen, his equal, for some years in an office without limited income and circumscribed power. in a word, whoever demands a king demands an aristocracy, and thirty millions of taxes. see why franklin described royalism as _a crime like poisoning_. royalty, its fanatical eclat, its superstitious idolatry, the delusive assumption of its necessity, all these fictions have been invented only to obtain from men excessive taxes and voluntary servitude. royalty and popery have had the same aim, have sustained themselves by the same artifices, and crumble under the same light. xii. to the attorney general, on the prosecution against the second part of rights of man.( ) paris, th of november, st year of the republic. [ .] mr. attorney general: sir,--as there can be no personal resentment between two strangers, i write this letter to you, as to a man against whom i have no animosity. you have, as attorney general, commenced a prosecution against me, as the author of rights of man. had not my duty, in consequence of my being elected a member of the national convention of france, called me from england, i should have staid to have contested the injustice of that prosecution; not upon my own account, for i cared not about the prosecution, but to have defended the principles i had advanced in the work. read to the jury by the attorney general, sir archibald macdonald, at the trial of paine, december , , which resulted in his outlawry.--_editor._ the duty i am now engaged in is of too much importance to permit me to trouble myself about your prosecution: when i have leisure, i shall have no objection to meet you on that ground; but, as i now stand, whether you go on with the prosecution, or whether you do not, or whether you obtain a verdict, or not, is a matter of the most perfect indifference to me as an individual. if you obtain one, (which you are welcome to if you can get it,) it cannot affect me either in person, property, or reputation, otherwise than to increase the latter; and with respect to yourself, it is as consistent that you obtain a verdict against the man in the moon as against me; neither do i see how you can continue the prosecution against me as you would have done against one _your own people, who_ had absented himself because he was prosecuted; what passed at dover proves that my departure from england was no secret. ( ) my necessary absence from your country affords the opportunity of knowing whether the prosecution was intended against thomas paine, or against the right of the people of england to investigate systems and principles of government; for as i cannot now be the object of the prosecution, the going on with the prosecution will shew that something else was the object, and that something else can be no other than the people of england, for it is against _their rights_, and not against me, that a verdict or sentence can operate, if it can operate at all. be then so candid as to tell the jury, (if you choose to continue the process,) whom it is you are prosecuting, and on whom it is that the verdict is to fall.( ) but i have other reasons than those i have mentioned for writing you this letter; and, however you may choose to interpret them, they proceed from a good heart. the time, sir, is becoming too serious to play with court prosecutions, and sport with national rights. the terrible examples that have taken place here, upon men who, less than a year ago, thought themselves as secure as any prosecuting judge, jury, or attorney general, now can in england, ought to have some weight with men in your situation. that the government of england is as great, if not the greatest, perfection of fraud and corruption that ever took place since governments began, is what you cannot be a stranger to, unless the constant habit of seeing it has blinded your senses; but though you may not chuse to see it, the people are seeing it very fast, and the progress is beyond what you may chuse to believe. is it possible that you, or i, can believe, or that reason can make any other man believe, that the capacity of such a man as mr. guelph, or any of his profligate sons, is necessary to the government of a nation? i speak to you as one man ought to speak to another; and i know also that i speak what other people are beginning to think. see chapter viii. of this volume.--_editor._ in reading the letter in court the attorney general said at this point: "gentlemen, i certainly will comply with this request. i am prosecuting both him and his work; and if i succeed in this prosecution, he shall never return to this country otherwise than _in vintulis_, for i will outlaw him."--_editor._ that you cannot obtain a verdict (and if you do, it will signify nothing) _without packing a jury_, (and we _both_ know that such tricks are practised,) is what i have very good reason to believe, i have gone into coffee-houses, and places where i was unknown, on purpose to learn the currency of opinion, and i never yet saw any company of twelve men that condemned the book; but i have often found a greater number than twelve approving it, and this i think is _a fair way of collecting the natural currency of opinion_. do not then, sir, be the instrument of drawing twelve men into a situation that may be _injurious_ to them afterwards. i do not speak this from policy, but from benevolence; but if you chuse to go on with the process, i make it my request to you that you will read this letter in court, after which the judge and the jury may do as they please. as i do not consider myself the object of the prosecution, neither can i be affected by the issue, one way or the other, i shall, though a foreigner in your country, subscribe as much money as any other man towards supporting the right of the nation against the prosecution; and it is for this purpose only that i shall do it.( ) thomas paine. as i have not time to copy letters, you will excuse the corrections. in reading this letter at the trial the attorney interspersed comments. at the phrase, "mr. guelph and his profligate sons," he exclaimed: "this passage is contemptuous, scandalous, false, cruel. why, gentlemen, is mr. paine, in addition to the political doctrines he is teaching us in this country, to teach us the morality and religion of implacability? is he to teach human creatures, whose moments of existence depend upon the permission of a being, merciful, long-suffering, and of great goodness, that those youthful errors from which even royalty is not exempted, are to be treasured up in a vindictive memory, and are to receive sentence of irremissible sin at his hands.... if giving me pain was his object he has that hellish gratification." erskine, fame's counsel, protested in advance against the reading of this letter (of which he had heard), as containing matter likely to divert the jury from the subject of prosecution (the book). lord kenyon admitted the letter.--_editor._ p. s. i intended, had i staid in england, to have published the information, with my remarks upon it, before the trial came on; but as i am otherwise engaged, i reserve myself till the trial is over, when i shall reply fully to every thing you shall advance. xiii. on the propriety of bringing louis xvi. to trial.( ) read to the convention, november , . paris, nov. , . citizen president, as i do not know precisely what day the convention will resume the discussion on the trial of louis xvi., and, on account of my inability to express myself in french, i cannot speak at the tribune, i request permission to deposit in your hands the enclosed paper, which contains my opinion on that subject. i make this demand with so much more eagerness, because circumstances will prove how much it imports to france, that louis xvi. should continue to enjoy good health. i should be happy if the convention would have the goodness to hear this paper read this morning, as i propose sending a copy of it to london, to be printed in the english journals.( ) thomas paine. this address, which has suffered by alterations in all editions is here revised and completed by aid of the official document: "opinion de thomas payne, depute du département de la somme [error], concernant le jugement de louis xvi. précédé par sa lettre d'envoi au président de la convention. imprimé par ordre de la convention nationale. � paris. de l'imprimerie nationale." lamartine has censured paine for this speech; but the trial of the king was a foregone conclusion, and it will be noted that paine was already trying to avert popular wrath from the individual man by directing it against the general league of monarchs, and the monarchal system. nor would his plea for the king's life have been listened to but for this previous address.-- _editor._ of course no english journal could then venture to print it.--_editor._ a secretary read the opinion of thomas paine. i think it necessary that louis xvi. should be tried; not that this advice is suggested by a spirit of vengeance, but because this measure appears to me just, lawful, and conformable to sound policy. if louis is innocent, let us put him to prove his innocence; if he is guilty, let the national will determine whether he shall be pardoned or punished. but besides the motives personal to louis xvi., there are others which make his trial necessary. i am about to develope these motives, in the language which i think expresses them, and no other. i forbid myself the use of equivocal expression or of mere ceremony. there was formed among the crowned brigands of europe a conspiracy which threatened not only french liberty, but likewise that of all nations. every thing tends to the belief that louis xvi. was the partner of this horde of conspirators. you have this man in your power, and he is at present the only one of the band of whom you can make sure. i consider louis xvi. in the same point of view as the two first robbers taken up in the affair of the store room; their trial led to discovery of the gang to which they belonged. we have seen the unhappy soldiers of austria, of prussia, and the other powers which declared themselves our enemies, torn from their fire-sides, and drawn to butchery like wretched animals, to sustain, at the cost of their blood, the common cause of these crowned brigands. they loaded the inhabitants of those regions with taxes to support the expenses of the war. all this was not done solely for louis xvi. some of the conspirators have acted openly: but there is reason to presume that this conspiracy is composed of two classes of brigands; those who have taken up arms, and those who have lent to their cause secret encouragement and clandestine assistance. now it is indispensable to let france and the whole world know all these accomplices. a little time after the national convention was constituted, the minister for foreign affairs presented the picture of all the governments of europe,--those whose hostilities were public, and those that acted with a mysterious circumspection. this picture supplied grounds for just suspicions of the part the latter were disposed to take, and since then various circumstances have occurred to confirm those suspicions. we have already penetrated into some part of the conduct of mr. guelph, elector of hanover, and strong presumptions involve the same man, his court and ministers, in quality of king of england. m. calonne has constantly been favoured with a friendly reception at that court.( ) the arrival of mr. smith, secretary to mr. pitt, at coblentz, when the emigrants were assembling there; the recall of the english ambassador; the extravagant joy manifested by the court of st. james' at the false report of the defeat of dumouriez, when it was communicated by lord elgin, then minister of great britain at brussels--all these circumstances render him [george iii.] extremely suspicious; the trial of louis xvi. will probably furnish more decisive proofs. the long subsisting fear of a revolution in england, would alone, i believe, prevent that court from manifesting as much publicity in its operations as austria and prussia. another reason could be added to this: the inevitable decrease of credit, by means of which alone all the old governments could obtain fresh loans, in proportion as the probability of revolutions increased. whoever invests in the new loans of such governments must expect to lose his stock. every body knows that the landgrave of hesse fights only as far as he is paid. he has been for many years in the pay of the court of london. if the trial of louis xvi. could bring it to light, that this detestable dealer in human flesh has been paid with the produce of the taxes imposed on the english people, it would be justice to that nation to disclose that fact. it would at the same time give to france an exact knowledge of the character of that court, which has not ceased to be the most intriguing in europe, ever since its connexion with germany. calonne ( - ), made controller general of the treasury in , lavished the public money on the queen, on courtiers, and on himself (purchasing st. cloud and rambouillet), borrowing vast sums and deceiving the king as to the emptiness of the treasury, the annual deficit having risen in to millions of francs. he was then banished to lorraine, whence he proceeded to england, where he married the wealthy widow haveley. by his agency for the coblentz party he lost his fortune. in napoleon brought him back from london to paris, where he died the same year. --_editor._ louis xvi., considered as an individual, is an object beneath the notice of the republic; but when he is looked upon as a part of that band of conspirators, as an accused man whose trial may lead all nations in the world to know and detest the disastrous system of monarchy, and the plots and intrigues of their own courts, he ought to be tried. if the crimes for which louis xvi. is arraigned were absolutely personal to him, without reference to general conspiracies, and confined to the affairs of france, the plea of inviolability, that folly of the moment, might have been urged in his behalf with some appearance of reason; but he is arraigned not only for treasons against france, but for having conspired against all europe, and if france is to be just to all europe we ought to use every means in our power to discover the whole extent of that conspiracy. france is now a republic; she has completed her revolution; but she cannot earn all its advantages so long as she is surrounded with despotic governments. their armies and their marine oblige her also to keep troops and ships in readiness. it is therefore her immediate interest that all nations shall be as free as herself; that revolutions shall be universal; and since the trial of louis xvi. can serve to prove to the world the flagitiousness of governments in general, and the necessity of revolutions, she ought not to let slip so precious an opportunity. the despots of europe have formed alliances to preserve their respective authority, and to perpetuate the oppression of peoples. this is the end they proposed to themselves in their invasion of french territory. they dread the effect of the french revolution in the bosom of their own countries; and in hopes of preventing it, they are come to attempt the destruction of this revolution before it should attain its perfect maturity. their attempt has not been attended with success. france has already vanquished their armies; but it remains for her to sound the particulars of the conspiracy, to discover, to expose to the eyes of the world, those despots who had the infamy to take part in it; and the world expects from her that act of justice. these are my motives for demanding that louis xvi. be judged; and it is in this sole point of view that his trial appears to me of sufficient importance to receive the attention of the republic. as to "inviolability," i would not have such a word mentioned. if, seeing in louis xvi. only a weak and narrow-minded man, badly reared, like all his kind, given, as it is said, to frequent excesses of drunkenness--a man whom the national assembly imprudently raised again on a throne for which he was not made--he is shown hereafter some compassion, it shall be the result of the national magnanimity, and not the burlesque notion of a pretended "inviolability." thomas paine. xiv. reasons for preserving the life of louis capet, as delivered to the national convention, january , .( ) citizen president, my hatred and abhorrence of monarchy are sufficiently known: they originate in principles of reason and conviction, nor, except with life, can they ever be extirpated; but my compassion for the unfortunate, whether friend or enemy, is equally lively and sincere. i voted that louis should be tried, because it was necessary to afford proofs to the world of the perfidy, corruption, and abomination of the monarchical system. the infinity of evidence that has been produced exposes them in the most glaring and hideous colours; thence it results that monarchy, whatever form it may assume, arbitrary or otherwise, becomes necessarily a centre round which are united every species of corruption, and the kingly trade is no less destructive of all morality in the human breast, than the trade of an executioner is destructive of its sensibility. i remember, during my residence in another country, that i was exceedingly struck with a sentence of m. autheine, at the jacobins [club], which corresponds exactly with my own idea,--"make me a king to-day," said he, "and i shall be a robber to-morrow." printed in paris (hartley, adlard & son) and published in london with the addition of d. i. eaton's name, in . while paine was in prison, he was accused in england and america of having helped to bring louis xvi. to the scaffold. the english pamphlet has a brief preface in which it is presented "as a burnt offering to truth, in behalf of the most zealous friend and advocate of the rights of man; to protect him against the barbarous shafts of scandal and delusion, and as a reply to all the horrors which despots of every description have, with such unrelenting malice, attempted to fix on his conduct. but truth in the end must triumph: cease then such calumnies: all your efforts are in vain --you bite a file."--_editor._ nevertheless, i am inclined to believe that if louis capet had been born in obscure condition, had he lived within the circle of an amiable and respectable neighbourhood, at liberty to practice the duties of domestic life, had he been thus situated, i cannot believe that he would have shewn himself destitute of social virtues: we are, in a moment of fermentation like this, naturally little indulgent to his vices, or rather to those of his government; we regard them with additional horror and indignation; not that they are more heinous than those of his predecessors, but because our eyes are now open, and the veil of delusion at length withdrawn; yet the lamentable, degraded state to which he is actually reduced, is surely far less imputable to him than to the constituent assembly, which, of its own authority, without consent or advice of the people, restored him to the throne. i was in paris at the time of the flight, or abdication of louis xvi., and when he was taken and brought back. the proposal of restoring him to supreme power struck me with amazement; and although at that time i was not a french citizen, yet as a citizen of the world i employed all the efforts that depended on me to prevent it. a small society, composed only of five persons, two of whom are now members of the convention,( ) took at that time the name of the republican club (société républicaine). this society opposed the restoration of louis, not so much on account of his personal offences, as in order to overthrow the monarchy, and to erect on its ruins the republican system and an equal representation. with this design, i traced out in the english language certain propositions, which were translated with some trifling alterations, and signed by achille duchâtelet, now lieutenant-general in the army of the french republic, and at that time one of the five members which composed our little party: the law requiring the signature of a citizen at the bottom of each printed paper. condorect and paine; the other members were achille duchitelet, and probably nicolas de bonneville and lanthenas,--translator of paine's "works."--_editor._ the paper was indignantly torn by malouet; and brought forth in this very room as an article of accusation against the person who had signed it, the author and their adherents; but such is the revolution of events, that this paper is now received and brought forth for a very opposite purpose--to remind the nation of the errors of that unfortunate day, that fatal error of not having then banished louis xvi. from its bosom, and to plead this day in favour of his exile, preferable to his death. the paper in question, was conceived in the following terms: [the address constitutes the first chapter of the present volume.] having thus explained the principles and the exertions of the republicans at that fatal period, when louis was rein-stated in full possession of the executive power which by his flight had been suspended, i return to the subject, and to the deplorable situation in which the man is now actually involved. what was neglected at the time of which i have been speaking, has been since brought about by the force of necessity. the wilful, treacherous defects in the former constitution have been brought to light; the continual alarm of treason and conspiracy aroused the nation, and produced eventually a second revolution. the people have beat down royalty, never, never to rise again; they have brought louis capet to the bar, and demonstrated in the face of the whole world, the intrigues, the cabals, the falsehood, corruption, and rooted depravity, the inevitable effects of monarchical government. there remains then only one question to be considered, what is to be done with this man? for myself i seriously confess, that when i reflect on the unaccountable folly that restored the executive power to his hands, all covered as he was with perjuries and treason, i am far more ready to condemn the constituent assembly than the unfortunate prisoner louis capet. but abstracted from every other consideration, there is one circumstance in his life which ought to cover or at least to palliate a great number of his transgressions, and this very circumstance affords to the french nation a blessed occasion of extricating itself from the yoke of kings, without defiling itself in the impurities of their blood. it is to france alone, i know, that the united states of america owe that support which enabled them to shake off the unjust and tyrannical yoke of britain. the ardour and zeal which she displayed to provide both men and money, were the natural consequence of a thirst for liberty. but as the nation at that time, restrained by the shackles of her own government, could only act by the means of a monarchical organ, this organ--whatever in other respects the object might be--certainly performed a good, a great action. let then those united states be the safeguard and asylum of louis capet. there, hereafter, far removed from the miseries and crimes of royalty, he may learn, from the constant aspect of public prosperity, that the true system of government consists not in kings, but in fair, equal, and honourable representation. in relating this circumstance, and in submitting this proposition, i consider myself as a citizen of both countries. i submit it as a citizen of america, who feels the debt of gratitude which he owes to every frenchman. i submit it also as a man, who, although the enemy of kings, cannot forget that they are subject to human frailties. i support my proposition as a citizen of the french republic, because it appears to me the best, the most politic measure that can be adopted. as far as my experience in public life extends, i have ever observed, that the great mass of the people are invariably just, both in their intentions and in their objects; but the true method of accomplishing an effect does not always shew itself in the first instance. for example: the english nation had groaned under the despotism of the stuarts. hence charles i. lost his life; yet charles ii. was restored to all the plenitude of power, which his father had lost. forty years had not expired when the same family strove to reestablish their ancient oppression; so the nation then banished from its territories the whole race. the remedy was effectual. the stuart family sank into obscurity, confounded itself with the multitude, and is at length extinct. the french nation has carried her measures of government to a greater length. france is not satisfied with exposing the guilt of the monarch. she has penetrated into the vices and horrors of the monarchy. she has shown them clear as daylight, and forever crushed that system; and he, whoever he may be, that should ever dare to reclaim those rights would be regarded not as a pretender, but punished as a traitor. two brothers of louis capet have banished themselves from the country; but they are obliged to comply with the spirit and etiquette of the courts where they reside. they can advance no pretensions on their own account, so long as louis capet shall live. monarchy, in france, was a system pregnant with crime and murders, cancelling all natural ties, even those by which brothers are united. we know how often they have assassinated each other to pave a way to power. as those hopes which the emigrants had reposed in louis xvi. are fled, the last that remains rests upon his death, and their situation inclines them to desire this catastrophe, that they may once again rally around a more active chief, and try one further effort under the fortune of the ci-devant monsieur and d'artois. that such an enterprize would precipitate them into a new abyss of calamity and disgrace, it is not difficult to foresee; yet it might be attended with mutual loss, and it is our duty as legislators not to spill a drop of blood when our purpose may be effectually accomplished without it. it has already been proposed to abolish the punishment of death, and it is with infinite satisfaction that i recollect the humane and excellent oration pronounced by robespierre on that subject in the constituent assembly. this cause must find its advocates in every corner where enlightened politicians and lovers of humanity exist, and it ought above all to find them in this assembly. monarchical governments have trained the human race, and inured it to the sanguinary arts and refinements of punishment; and it is exactly the same punishment which has so long shocked the sight and tormented the patience of the people, that now, in their turn, they practice in revenge upon their oppressors. but it becomes us to be strictly on our guard against the abomination and perversity of monarchical examples: as france has been the first of european nations to abolish royalty, let her also be the first to abolish the punishment of death, and to find out a milder and more effectual substitute. in the particular case now under consideration, i submit the following propositions: st, that the national convention shall pronounce sentence of banishment on louis and his family. d, that louis capet shall be detained in prison till the end of the war, and at that epoch the sentence of banishment to be executed. xv. shall louis xvi. have respite? speech in the convention, january , .( ) (read in french by deputy bancal,) very sincerely do i regret the convention's vote of yesterday for death. marat [_interrupting_]: i submit that thomas paine is incompetent to vote on this question; being a quaker his religious principles are opposed to capital punishment. [_much confusion, quieted by cries for "freedom of speech" on which bancal proceeds with paine's speech_.] not included in any previous edition of paine's "works." it is here printed from contemporary french reports, modified only by paine's own quotations of a few sentences in his memorial to monroe (xxi.).--_editor._ i have the advantage of some experience; it is near twenty years that i have been engaged in the cause of liberty, having contributed something to it in the revolution of the united states of america, my language has always been that of liberty _and_ humanity, and i know that nothing so exalts a nation as the union of these two principles, under all circumstances. i know that the public mind of france, and particularly that of paris, has been heated and irritated by the dangers to which they have been exposed; but could we carry our thoughts into the future, when the dangers are ended and the irritations forgotten, what to-day seems an act of justice may then appear an act of vengeance. [_murmurs_.] my anxiety for the cause of france has become for the moment concern for her honor. if, on my return to america, i should employ myself on a history of the french revolution, i had rather record a thousand errors on the side of mercy, than be obliged to tell one act of severe justice. i voted against an appeal to the people, because it appeared to me that the convention was needlessly wearied on that point; but i so voted in the hope that this assembly would pronounce against death, and for the same punishment that the nation would have voted, at least in my opinion, that is for reclusion during the war, and banishment thereafter.( ) that is the punishment most efficacious, because it includes the whole family at once, and none other can so operate. i am still against the appeal to the primary assemblies, because there is a better method. this convention has been elected to form a constitution, which will be submitted to the primary assemblies. after its acceptance a necessary consequence will be an election and another assembly. we cannot suppose that the present convention will last more than five or six months. the choice of new deputies will express the national opinion, on the propriety or impropriety of your sentence, with as much efficacy as if those primary assemblies had been consulted on it. as the duration of our functions here cannot be long, it is a part of our duty to consider the interests of those who shall replace us. if by any act of ours the number of the nation's enemies shall be needlessly increased, and that of its friends diminished,--at a time when the finances may be more strained than to-day,--we should not be justifiable for having thus unnecessarily heaped obstacles in the path of our successors. let us therefore not be precipitate in our decisions. it is possible that the course of the debate may have produced some reaction among the people, but when paine voted against submitting the king's fate to the popular vote it was believed by the king and his friends that it would be fatal. the american minister, gouverneur morris, who had long been acting for the king, wrote to president washington, jan. , : "the king's fate is to be decided next monday, the th. that unhappy man, conversing with one of his council on his own fate, calmly summed up the motives of every kind, and concluded that a majority of the council would vote for referring his case to the people, and that in consequence he should be massacred." writing to washington on dec. , , morris mentions having heard from paine that he was to move the king's banishment to america, and he may then have informed paine that the king believed reference of his case to popular vote would be fatal. genet was to have conducted the royal family to america.-- _editor._ france has but one ally--the united states of america. that is the only nation that can furnish france with naval provisions, for the kingdoms of northern europe are, or soon will be, at war with her. it unfortunately happens that the person now under discussion is considered by the americans as having been the friend of their revolution. his execution will be an affliction to them, and it is in your power not to wound the feelings of your ally. could i speak the french language i would descend to your bar, and in their name become your petitioner to respite the execution of the sentence on louis. thuriot: this is not the language of thomas paine. marat: i denounce the interpreter. i maintain that it is not thomas paine's opinion. it is an untrue translation. garran: i have read the original, and the translation is correct.( ) [_prolonged uproar. paine, still standing in the tribune beside his interpreter, deputy bancal, declared the sentiments to be his._] your executive committee will nominate an ambassador to philadelphia; my sincere wish is that he may announce to america that the national convention of france, out of pure friendship to america, has consented to respite louis. that people, by my vote, ask you to delay the execution. ah, citizens, give not the tyrant of england the triumph of seeing the man perish on the scaffold who had aided my much-loved america to break his chains! marat ["_launching himself into the middle of the hall_"]: paine voted against the punishment of death because he is a quaker. paine: i voted against it from both moral motives and motives of public policy. see guizot, "hist, of france," vi., p. . "hist. parliamentair," vol. ii., p. . louis blanc says that paine's appeal was so effective that marat interrupted mainly in order to destroy its effect.--"hist, de la rev.," tome vii, .--_editor._ xvi. declaration of rights.( ) the object of all union of men in society being maintenance of their natural rights, civil and political, these rights are the basis of the social pact: their recognition and their declaration ought to precede the constitution which assures their guarantee. . the natural rights of men, civil and political, are liberty, equality, security, property, social protection, and resistance to oppression. . liberty consists in the right to do whatever is not contrary to the rights of others: thus, exercise of the natural rights of each individual has no limits other than those which secure to other members of society enjoyment of the same rights. in his appeal from prison to the convention (august , ) paine states that he had, as a member of the committee for framing the constitution, prepared a plan, which was in the hands of barère, also of that committee. i have not yet succeeded in finding paine's constitution, but it is certain that the work of framing the constitution of was mainly entrusted to paine and condorcet. dr. john moore, in his work on the french revolution, describes the two at their work; and it is asserted that he "assisted in drawing up the french declaration of rights," by "juvencus," author of an able "essay on the life and genius of thomas paine," whose information came from a personal friend of paine. ("aphorisms, opinions, and reflections of thomas paine," etc., london, . pp. , .) a translation of the declaration and constitution appeared in england (debrett, picadilly, ), but with some faults. the present translation is from "oeuvres complètes de condorcet," tome xviii. the committee reported their constitution february th, and april th was set for its discussion, robespierre then demanded separate discussion of the declaration of rights, to which he objected that it made no mention of the supreme being, and that its extreme principles of freedom would shield illicit traffic. paine and jefferson were troubled that the united states constitution contained no declaration of rights, it being a fundamental principle in paine's theory of government that such a declaration was the main safeguard of the individual against the despotism of numbers. see supra, vol. ii.t pp. , .--_editor._. . the preservation of liberty depends on submission to the law, which is the expression of the general will. nothing unforbidden by law can be hindered, and none may be forced to do what the law does not command. . every man is free to make known his thoughts and opinions. . freedom of the press, and every other means of publishing one's opinion, cannot be interdicted, suspended, or limited. . every citizen shall be free in the exercise of his religion (_culte_). . equality consists in the enjoyment by every one of the same rights. . the law should be equal for all, whether it rewards or punishes, protects or represses. . all citizens are admissible to all public positions, employments, and functions. free nations recognize no grounds of preference save talents and virtues. . security consists in the protection accorded by society to every citizen for the preservation of his person, property, and rights. . none should be sued, accused, arrested, or detained, save in cases determined by the law, and in accordance with forms prescribed by it. every other act against a citizen is arbitrary and null. . those who solicit, further, sign, execute, or cause to be executed, such arbitrary acts are culpable, and should be punished. . citizens against whom the execution of such acts is attempted have the right to repel force by force; but every citizen summoned or arrested by authority of the law, and in the forms by it prescribed, should instantly obey: he renders himself guilty by resistance. . every man being presumed innocent until legally pronounced guilty, should his arrest be deemed indispensable, all rigor not necessary to secure his person should be severely represssed by law. . none should be punished save in virtue of a law formally enacted, promulgated anterior to the offence, and legally applied. . any law that should punish offences committed before its existence would be an arbitrary act. retroactive effect given to the law is a crime. . the law should award only penalties strictly and evidently necessary to the general safety. penalties should be proportioned to offences, and useful to society. . the right of property consists in every man's being master in the disposal, at his will, of his goods, capital, income, and industry. . no kind of labor, commerce, or culture, can be prohibited to any one: he may make, sell, and transport every species of production. . every man may engage his services and his time; but he cannot sell himself; his person is not an alienable property. . no one can be deprived of the least portion of his property without his consent, unless evidently required by public necessity, legally determined, and under the condition of a just indemnity in advance. . no tax shall be imposed except for the general welfare, and to meet public needs. all citizens have the right to unite personally, or by their representatives, in the fixing of imposts. . instruction is the need of all, and society owes it to all its members equally. . public succours are a sacred debt of society; it is for the law to determine their extent and application. . the social guarantee of the rights of man rests on the national sovereignty. . this sovereignty is one, indivisible, imprescriptible, and inalienable. . it resides essentially in the whole people, and every citizen has an equal right to unite in its exercise. . no partial assemblage of citizens, and no individual, may attribute to themselves sovereignty, or exercise any authority, or discharge any public function, without formal delegation thereto by the law. . the social guarantee cannot exist if the limits of public administration are not clearly determined by law, and if the responsibility of all public functionaries is not assured. . all citizens are bound to unite in this guarantee, and in enforcing the law when summoned in its name. . men united in society should have legal means of resisting oppression. . there is oppression when any law violates the natural rights, civil and political, which it should guarantee. there is oppression when the law is violated by public officials in its application to individual cases. there is oppression when arbitrary actions violate the rights of citizen against the express purpose (_expression_) of the law. in a free government the mode of resisting these different acts of oppression should be regulated by the constitution. . a people possesses always the right to reform and alter its constitution. a generation has no right to subject a future generation to its laws; and all heredity in offices is absurd and tyrannical. xvii. private letters to jefferson. paris, april, . my dear friend,--the gentleman (dr. romer) to whom i entrust this letter is an intimate acquaintance of lavater; but i have not had the opportunity of seeing him, as he had set off for havre prior to my writing this letter, which i forward to him under cover from one of his friends, who is also an acquaintance of mine. we are now in an extraordinary crisis, and it is not altogether without some considerable faults here. dumouriez, partly from having no fixed principles of his own, and partly from the continual persecution of the jacobins, who act without either prudence or morality, has gone off to the enemy, and taken a considerable part of the army with him. the expedition to holland has totally failed, and all brabant is again in the hands of the austrians. you may suppose the consternation which such a sudden reverse of fortune has occasioned, but it has been without commotion. dumouriez threatened to be in paris in three weeks. it is now three weeks ago; he is still on the frontier near to mons with the enemy, who do not make any progress. dumouriez has proposed to re-establish the former constitution in which plan the austrians act with him. but if france and the national convention act prudently this project will not succeed. in the first place there is a popular disposition against it, and there is force sufficient to prevent it. in the next place, a great deal is to be taken into the calculation with respect to the enemy. there are now so many persons accidentally jumbled together as to render it exceedingly difficult to them to agree upon any common object. the first object, that of restoring the old monarchy, is evidently given up by the proposal to re-establish the late constitution. the object of england and prussia was to preserve holland, and the object of austria was to recover brabant; while those separate objects lasted, each party having one, the confederation could hold together, each helping the other; but after this i see not how a common object is to be formed. to all this is to be added the probable disputes about opportunity, the expence, and the projects of reimbursements. the enemy has once adventured into france, and they had the permission or the good fortune to get back again. on every military calculation it is a hazardous adventure, and armies are not much disposed to try a second time the ground upon which they have been defeated. had this revolution been conducted consistently with its principles, there was once a good prospect of extending liberty through the greatest part of europe; but i now relinquish that hope. should the enemy by venturing into france put themselves again in a condition of being captured, the hope will revive; but this is a risk i do not wish to see tried, lest it should fail. as the prospect of a general freedom is now much shortened, i begin to contemplate returning home. i shall await the event of the proposed constitution, and then take my final leave of europe. i have not written to the president, as i have nothing to communicate more than in this letter. please to present him my affection and compliments, and remember me among the circle of my friends. your sincere and affectionate friend, thomas paine. p. s. i just now received a letter from general lewis morris, who tells me that the house and barn on my farm at new rochelle are burnt down. i assure you i shall not bring money enough to build another. paris, oct., . i wrote you by captain dominick who was to sail from havre about the th of this month. this will probably be brought you by mr. barlow or col. oswald. since my letter by dominick i am every day more convinced and impressed with the propriety of congress sending commissioners to europe to confer with the ministers of the jesuitical powers on the means of terminating the war. the enclosed printed paper will shew there are a variety of subjects to be taken into consideration which did not appear at first, all of which have some tendency to put an end to the war. i see not how this war is to terminate if some intermediate power does not step forward. there is now no prospect that france can carry revolutions into europe on the one hand, or that the combined powers can conquer france on the other hand. it is a sort of defensive war on both sides. this being the case, how is the war to close? neither side will ask for peace though each may wish it. i believe that england and holland are tired of the war. their commerce and manufactures have suffered most exceedingly,--besides this, it is for them a war without an object. russia keeps herself at a distance. i cannot help repeating my wish that congress would send commissioners, and i wish also that yourself would venture once more across the ocean, as one of them. if the commissioners rendezvous at holland they would know what steps to take. they could call mr. pinckney [gen. thomas pinckney, american minister in england] to their councils, and it would be of use, on many accounts, that one of them should come over from holland to france. perhaps a long truce, were it proposed by the neutral powers, would have all the effects of a peace, without the difficulties attending the adjustment of all the forms of peace. yours affectionately, thomas paine. xviii. letter to danton.( ) paris, may , nd year of the republic [ .] citoyen danton: as you read english, i write this letter to you without passing it through the hands of a translator. i am exceedingly disturbed at the distractions, jealousies, discontents and uneasiness that reign among us, and which, if they continue, will bring ruin and disgrace on the republic. when i left america in the year , it was my intention to return the year following, but the french revolution, and the prospect it afforded of extending the principles of liberty and fraternity through the greater part of europe, have induced me to prolong my stay upwards of six years. i now despair of seeing the great object of european liberty accomplished, and my despair arises not from the combined foreign powers, not from the intrigues of aristocracy and priestcraft, but from the tumultuous misconduct with which the internal affairs of the present revolution are conducted. all that now can be hoped for is limited to france only, and i agree with your motion of not interfering in the government of any foreign country, nor permitting any foreign country to interfere in the government of france. this decree was necessary as a preliminary toward terminating the war. but while these internal contentions continue, while the hope remains to the enemy of seeing the republic fall to pieces, while not only the representatives of the departments but representation itself is publicly insulted, as it has lately been and now is by the people of paris, or at least by the tribunes, the enemy will be encouraged to hang about the frontiers and await the issue of circumstances. this admirable letter was brought to light by the late m. taine, and first published in full by taine's translator, john durand ("new materials for the history of the american revolution," ). the letter to marat mentioned by paine has not been discovered. danton followed paine to prison, and on meeting him there said: "that which you did for the happiness and liberty of your country i tried to do for mine. i have been less fortunate, but not less innocent. they will send me to the scaffold; very well, my friend, i will go gaily." m. taine in la révolution (vol. ii., pp. , , ) refers to this letter of paine, and says: "compared with the speeches and writings of the time, it produces the strangest effect by its practical good sense." --_editor._, i observe that the confederated powers have not yet recognized monsieur, or d'artois, as regent, nor made any proclamation in favour of any of the bourbons; but this negative conduct admits of two different conclusions. the one is that of abandoning the bourbons and the war together; the other is that of changing the object of the war and substituting a partition scheme in the place of their first object, as they have done by poland. if this should be their object, the internal contentions that now rage will favour that object far more than it favoured their former object. the danger every day increases of a rupture between paris and the departments. the departments did not send their deputies to paris to be insulted, and every insult shown to them is an insult to the departments that elected and sent them. i see but one effectual plan to prevent this rupture taking place, and that is to fix the residence of the convention, and of the future assemblies, at a distance from paris. i saw, during the american revolution, the exceeding inconvenience that arose by having the government of congress within the limits of any municipal jurisdiction. congress first resided in philadelphia, and after a residence of four years it found it necessary to leave it. it then adjourned to the state of jersey. it afterwards removed to new york; it again removed from new york to philadelphia, and after experiencing in every one of these places the great inconvenience of a government, it formed the project of building a town, not within the limits of any municipal jurisdiction, for the future residence of congress. in any one of the places where congress resided, the municipal authority privately or openly opposed itself to the authority of congress, and the people of each of these places expected more attention from congress than their equal share with the other states amounted to. the same thing now takes place in france, but in a far greater excess. i see also another embarrassing circumstance arising in paris of which we have had full experience in america. i mean that of fixing the price of provisions. but if this measure is to be attempted it ought to be done by the municipality. the convention has nothing to do with regulations of this kind; neither can they be carried into practice. the people of paris may say they will not give more than a certain price for provisions, but as they cannot compel the country people to bring provisions to market the consequence will be directly contrary to their expectations, and they will find dearness and famine instead of plenty and cheapness. they may force the price down upon the stock in hand, but after that the market will be empty. i will give you an example. in philadelphia we undertook, among other regulations of this kind, to regulate the price of salt; the consequence was that no salt was brought to market, and the price rose to thirty-six shillings sterling per bushel. the price before the war was only one shilling and sixpence per bushel; and we regulated the price of flour (farina) till there was none in the market, and the people were glad to procure it at any price. there is also a circumstance to be taken into the account which is not much attended to. the assignats are not of the same value they were a year ago, and as the quantity increases the value of them will diminish. this gives the appearance of things being dear when they are not so in fact, for in the same proportion that any kind of money falls in value articles rise in price. if it were not for this the quantity of assignats would be too great to be circulated. paper money in america fell so much in value from this excessive quantity of it, that in the year i gave three hundred paper dollars for one pair of worsted stockings. what i write you upon this subject is experience, and not merely opinion. i have no personal interest in any of these matters, nor in any party disputes. i attend only to general principles. as soon as a constitution shall be established i shall return to america; and be the future prosperity of france ever so great, i shall enjoy no other part of it than the happiness of knowing it. in the mean time i am distressed to see matters so badly conducted, and so little attention paid to moral principles. it is these things that injure the character of the revolution and discourage the progress of liberty all over the world. when i began this letter i did not intend making it so lengthy, but since i have gone thus far i will fill up the remainder of the sheet with such matters as occur to me. there ought to be some regulation with respect to the spirit of denunciation that now prevails. if every individual is to indulge his private malignancy or his private ambition, to denounce at random and without any kind of proof, all confidence will be undermined and all authority be destroyed. calumny is a species of treachery that ought to be punished as well as any other kind of treachery. it is a private vice productive of public evils; because it is possible to irritate men into disaffection by continual calumny who never intended to be disaffected. it is therefore, equally as necessary to guard against the evils of unfounded or malignant suspicion as against the evils of blind confidence. it is equally as necessary to protect the characters of public officers from calumny as it is to punish them for treachery or misconduct. for my own part i shall hold it a matter of doubt, until better evidence arises than is known at present, whether dumouriez has been a traitor from policy or resentment. there was certainly a time when he acted well, but it is not every man whose mind is strong enough to bear up against ingratitude, and i think he experienced a great deal of this before he revolted. calumny becomes harmless and defeats itself, when it attempts to act upon too large a scale. thus the denunciation of the sections [of paris] against the twenty-two deputies [girondists] falls to the ground. the departments that elected them are better judges of their moral and political characters than those who have denounced them. this denunciation will injure paris in the opinion of the departments because it has the appearance of dictating to them what sort of deputies they shall elect. most of the acquaintances that i have in the convention are among those who are in that list, and i know there are not better men nor better patriots than what they are. i have written a letter to marat of the same date as this but not on the same subject. he may show it to you if he chuse. votre ami, thomas paine. citoyen danton. xix. a citizen of america to the citizens of europe ( ) th year of independence. state archives, paris: �tats unis, vol. , fol. . this pamphlet is in english, without indication of authorship or of the place of publication. it is accompanied by a french translation (ms.) inscribed "par thomas payne." in the printed pamphlet the date ( th year, etc) is preceded by the french words (printed): "philadelphie juillet ." it was no doubt the pamphlet sent by paine to monroe, with various documents relating to his imprisonment, describing it as "a letter which i had printed here as an american letter, some copies of which i sent to mr. jefferson." a considerable portion of the pamphlet embodies, with occasional changes of phraseology, a manuscript (�tats unis, vol. , do. ) endorsed: "january . thorn. payne. copie. observations on the situation of the powers joined against france." this opens with the following paragraph: "it is always useful to know the position and the designs of one's enemies. it is much easier to do so by combining and comparing the events, and by examining the consequences which result from them, than by forming one's judgment by letters found or intercepted. these letters could be fabricated with the intention of deceiving, but events or circumstances have a character which is proper to them. if in the course of our political operations we mistake the designs of our enemy, it leads us to do precisely that which he desires we should do, and it happens by the fact, but against our intentions, that we work for him." that the date written on this ms. is erroneous appears by an allusion to the defeat of the duke of york at dunkirk in the closing paragraph: "there are three distinct parties in england at this moment: the government party, the revolutionary party, and an intermedial party,--which is only opposed to the war on account of the expense it entails, and the harm it does commerce and manufactures. i am speaking of the people, and not of the parliament. the latter is divided into two parties: the ministerial, and the anti-ministerial. the revolutionary party, the intermedial party, and the anti- ministerial party, will all rejoice, publicly or privately, at the defeat of the duke of york at dunkirk." the two paragraphs quoted represent the only actual additions to the pamphlet. i have a clipping from the london morning chronicle of friday, april , , containing the part of the pamphlet headed "of the present state of europe and the confederacy," signed "thomas paine, author of common sense, etc." on february , , the convention having declared war, appointed paine, barère, condorcet and faber, a committee to draft an address to the english people. it was never done, but these fragments may represent notes written by paine with reference to that task. the pamphlet probably appeared late in september, .--_editor._, understanding that a proposal is intended to be made at the ensuing meeting of the congress of the united states of america "to send commissioners to europe to confer with the ministers of all the neutral powers for the purpose of negotiating preliminaries of peace," i address this letter to you on that subject, and on the several matters connected therewith. in order to discuss this subject through all its circumstances, it will be necessary to take a review of the state of europe, prior to the french revolution. it will from thence appear, that the powers leagued against france are fighting to attain an object, which, were it possible to be attained, would be injurious to themselves. this is not an uncommon error in the history of wars and governments, of which the conduct of the english government in the war against america is a striking instance. she commenced that war for the avowed purpose of subjugating america; and after wasting upwards of one hundred millions sterling, and then abandoning the object, she discovered, in the course of three or four years, that the prosperity of england was increased, instead of being diminished, by the independence of america. in short, every circumstance is pregnant with some natural effect, upon which intentions and opinions have no influence; and the political error lies in misjudging what the effect will be. england misjudged it in the american war, and the reasons i shall now offer will shew, that she misjudges it in the present war. in discussing this subject, i leave out of the question everything respecting forms and systems of government; for as all the governments of europe differ from each other, there is no reason that the government of france should not differ from the rest. the clamours continually raised in all the countries of europe were, that the family of the bourbons was become too powerful; that the intrigues of the court of france endangered the peace of europe. austria saw with a jealous eye the connection of france with prussia; and prussia, in her turn became jealous of the connection of france with austria; england had wasted millions unsuccessfully in attempting to prevent the family compact with spain; russia disliked the alliance between france and turkey; and turkey became apprehensive of the inclination of france towards an alliance with russia. sometimes the quadruple alliance alarmed some of the powers, and at other times a contrary system alarmed others, and in all those cases the charge was always made against the intrigues of the bourbons. admitting those matters to be true, the only thing that could have quieted the apprehensions of all those powers with respect to the interference of france, would have been her entire neutrality in europe; but this was impossible to be obtained, or if obtained was impossible to be secured, because the genius of her government was repugnant to all such restrictions. it now happens that by entirely changing the genius of her government, which france has done for herself, this neutrality, which neither wars could accomplish nor treaties secure, arises naturally of itself, and becomes the ground upon which the war should terminate. it is the thing that approaches the nearest of all others to what ought to be the political views of all the european powers; and there is nothing that can so effectually secure this neutrality, as that the genius of the french government should be different from the rest of europe. but if their object is to restore the bourbons and monarchy together, they will unavoidably restore with it all the evils of which they have complained; and the first question of discord will be, whose ally is that monarchy to be? will england agree to the restoration of the family compact against which she has been fighting and scheming ever since it existed? will prussia agree to restore the alliance between france and austria, or will austria agree to restore the former connection between france and prussia, formed on purpose to oppose herself; or will spain or russia, or any of the maritime powers, agree that france and her navy should be allied to england? in fine, will any of the powers agree to strengthen the hands of the other against itself? yet all these cases involve themselves in the original question of the restoration of the bourbons; and on the other hand, all of them disappear by the neutrality of france. if their object is not to restore the bourbons, it must be the impracticable project of a partition of the country. the bourbons will then be out of the question, or, more properly speaking, they will be put in a worse condition; for as the preservation of the bourbons made a part of the first object, the extirpation of them makes a part of the second. their pretended friends will then become interested in their destruction, because it is favourable to the purpose of partition that none of the nominal claimants should be left in existence. but however the project of a partition may at first blind the eyes of the confederacy, or however each of them may hope to outwit the other in the progress or in the end, the embarrassments that will arise are insurmountable. but even were the object attainable, it would not be of such general advantage to the parties as the neutrality of france, which costs them nothing, and to obtain which they would formerly have gone to war. of the present state of europe, and the confederacy. in the first place the confederacy is not of that kind that forms itself originally by concert and consent. it has been forced together by chance--a heterogeneous mass, held only by the accident of the moment; and the instant that accident ceases to operate, the parties will retire to their former rivalships. i will now, independently of the impracticability of a partition project, trace out some of the embarrassments which will arise among the confederated parties; for it is contrary to the interest of a majority of them that such a project should succeed. to understand this part of the subject it is necessary, in the first place, to cast an eye over the map of europe, and observe the geographical situation of the several parts of the confederacy; for however strongly the passionate politics of the moment may operate, the politics that arise from geographical situation are the most certain, and will in all cases finally prevail. the world has been long amused with what is called the "_balance of power_." but it is not upon armies only that this balance depends. armies have but a small circle of action. their progress is slow and limited. but when we take maritime power into the calculation, the scale extends universally. it comprehends all the interests connected with commerce. the two great maritime powers are england and france. destroy either of those, and the balance of naval power is destroyed. the whole world of commerce that passes on the ocean would then lie at the mercy of the other, and the ports of any nation in europe might be blocked up. the geographical situation of those two maritime powers comes next under consideration. each of them occupies one entire side of the channel from the straits of dover and calais to the opening into the atlantic. the commerce of all the northern nations, from holland to russia, must pass the straits of dover and calais, and along the channel, to arrive at the atlantic. this being the case, the systematical politics of all the nations, northward of the straits of dover and calais, can be ascertained from their geographical situation; for it is necessary to the safety of their commerce that the two sides of the channel, either in whole or in part, should not be in the possession either of england or france. while one nation possesses the whole of one side, and the other nation the other side, the northern nations cannot help seeing that in any situation of things their commerce will always find protection on one side or the other. it may sometimes be that of england and sometimes that of france. again, while the english navy continues in its present condition, it is necessary that another navy should exist to controul the universal sway the former would otherwise have over the commerce of all nations. france is the only nation in europe where this balance can be placed. the navies of the north, were they sufficiently powerful, could not be sufficiently operative. they are blocked up by the ice six months in the year. spain lies too remote; besides which, it is only for the sake of her american mines that she keeps up her navy. applying these cases to the project of a partition of france, it will appear, that the project involves with it a destruction of the balance of maritime power; because it is only by keeping france entire and indivisible that the balance can be kept up. this is a case that at first sight lies remote and almost hidden. but it interests all the maritime and commercial nations in europe in as great a degree as any case that has ever come before them.--in short, it is with war as it is with law. in law, the first merits of the case become lost in the multitude of arguments; and in war they become lost in the variety of events. new objects arise that take the lead of all that went before, and everything assumes a new aspect. this was the case in the last great confederacy in what is called the succession war, and most probably will be the case in the present. i have now thrown together such thoughts as occurred to me on the several subjects connected with the confederacy against france, and interwoven with the interest of the neutral powers. should a conference of the neutral powers take place, these observations will, at least, serve to generate others. the whole matter will then undergo a more extensive investigation than it is in my power to give; and the evils attending upon either of the projects, that of restoring the bourbons, or of attempting a partition of france, will have the calm opportunity of being fully discussed. on the part of england, it is very extraordinary that she should have engaged in a former confederacy, and a long expensive war, to _prevent_ the family compact, and now engage in another confederacy to _preserve_ it. and on the part of the other powers, it is as inconsistent that they should engage in a partition project, which, could it be executed, would immediately destroy the balance of maritime power in europe, and would probably produce a second war, to remedy the political errors of the first. a citizen of the united states of america. xx. appeal to the convention.( ) citizens representatives: if i should not express myself with the energy i used formerly to do, you will attribute it to the very dangerous illness i have suffered in the prison of the luxembourg. for several days i was insensible of my own existence; and though i am much recovered, it is with exceeding great difficulty that i find power to write you this letter. written in luxembourg prison, august , . robespierre having fallen july th, those who had been imprisoned under his authority were nearly all at once released, but paine remained. there were still three conspirators against him on the committee of public safety, and to that committee this appeal was unfortunately confided; consequently it never reached the convention. the circumstances are related at length infra, in the introduction to the memorial to monroe (xxi.). it will also be seen that paine was mistaken in his belief that his imprisonment was due to the enmity of robespierre, and this he vaguely suspected when his imprisonment was prolonged three months after robespierre's death.--_editor._. but before i proceed further, i request the convention to observe: that this is the first line that has come from me, either to the convention or to any of the committees, since my imprisonment,--which is approaching to eight months. --ah, my friends, eight months' loss of liberty seems almost a life-time to a man who has been, as i have been, the unceasing defender of liberty for twenty years. i have now to inform the convention of the reason of my not having written before. it is a year ago that i had strong reason to believe that robespierre was my inveterate enemy, as he was the enemy of every man of virtue and humanity. the address that was sent to the convention some time about last august from arras, the native town of robespierre, i have always been informed was the work of that hypocrite and the partizans he had in the place. the intention of that address was to prepare the way for destroying me, by making the people declare (though without assigning any reason) that i had lost their confidence; the address, however, failed of success, as it was immediately opposed by a counter-address from st. omer, which declared the direct contrary. but the strange power that robespierre, by the most consummate hypocrisy and the most hardened cruelties, had obtained, rendered any attempt on my part to obtain justice not only useless but dangerous; for it is the nature of tyranny always to strike a deeper blow when any attempt has been made to repel a former one. this being my situation, i submitted with patience to the hardness of my fate and waited the event of brighter days. i hope they are now arrived to the nation and to me. citizens, when i left the united states in the year i promised to all my friends that i would return to them the next year; but the hope of seeing a revolution happily established in france, that might serve as a model to the rest of europe,( ) and the earnest and disinterested desire of rendering every service in my power to promote it, induced me to defer my return to that country, and to the society of my friends, for more than seven years. this long sacrifice of private tranquillity, especially after having gone through the fatigues and dangers of the american revolution which continued almost eight years, deserved a better fate than the long imprisonment i have silently suffered. but it is not the nation but a faction that has done me this injustice. parties and factions, various and numerous as they have been, i have always avoided. my heart was devoted to all france, and the object to which i applied myself was the constitution. the plan which i proposed to the committee, of which i was a member, is now in the hands of barère, and it will speak for itself. revolutions have now acquired such sanguinary associations that it is important to bear in mind that by "revolution" paine always means simply a change or reformation of government, which might be and ought to be bloodless. see "rights of man" part ii., vol. ii. of this work, pp. , .--:_editor_. it is perhaps proper that i inform you of the cause as-assigned in the order for my imprisonment. it is that i am 'a foreigner'; whereas, the _foreigner_ thus imprisoned was invited into france by a decree of the late national assembly, and that in the hour of her greatest danger, when invaded by austrians and prussians. he was, moreover, a citizen of the united states of america, an ally of france, and not a subject of any country in europe, and consequently not within the intentions of any decree concerning foreigners. but any excuse can be made to serve the purpose of malignity when in power. i will not intrude on your time by offering any apology for the broken and imperfect manner in which i have expressed myself. i request you to accept it with the sincerity with which it comes from my heart; and i conclude with wishing fraternity and prosperity to france, and union and happiness to her representatives. citizens, i have now stated to you my situation, and i can have no doubt but your justice will restore me to the liberty of which i have been deprived. thomas paine. luxembourg, thermidor , nd year of the french republic, one and indivisible. xxi. the memorial to monroe. editor's historical introduction: the memorial is here printed from the manuscript of paine now among the morrison papers, in the british museum,--no doubt the identical document penned in luxembourg prison. the paper in the united states state department (vol. vii., monroe papers) is accompanied by a note by monroe: "mr. paine, luxembourg, on my arrival in france, . my answer was after the receipt of his second letter. it is thought necessary to print only those parts of his that relate directly to his confinement, and to omit all between the parentheses in each." the paper thus inscribed seems to have been a wrapper for all of paine's letters. an examination of the ms. at washington does not show any such "parentheses," indicating omissions, whereas that in the british museum has such marks, and has evidently been prepared for the press,--being indeed accompanied by the long title of the french pamphlet. there are other indications that the british museum ms. is the original memorial from which was printed in paris the pamphlet entitled: "mémoire de thomas payne, autographe et signé de sa main: addressé à m. monroe, ministre des �tats-unis en france, pour réclamer sa mise en liberté comme citoyen américain, sept . robespierre avait fait arrêter th. payne, en --il fut conduit au luxembourg où le glaive fut longtemps suspendu sur sa tête. après onze mois de captivité, il recouvra la liberté, sur la réclamation du ministre américain--c'était après la chute de robespierre--il reprit sa place à la convention, le décembre . ( frimaire an iii.) ce mémoire contient des renseigne mens curieux sur la conduite politique de th. payne en france, pendant la révolution, et à l'époque du procès de louis xvi. ce n'est point, dit il, comme quaker, qu'il ne vota pas la mort du roi mais par un sentiment d'humanité, qui ne tenait point à ses principes religieux. villenave." no date is given, but the pamphlet probably appeared early in . matthieu gillaume thérèse villenave (b. , d. ) was a journalist, and it will be noticed that he, or the translator, modifies paine's answer to marat about his quakerism. there are some loose translations in the cheap french pamphlet, but it is the only publication which has given paine's memorial with any fulness. nearly ten pages of the manuscript were omitted from the memorial when it appeared as an appendix to the pamphlet entitled "letter to george washington, president of the united states of america, on affairs public and private." by thomas paine, author of the works entitled, common sense, rights of man, age of reason, &c. philadelphia: printed by benj. franklin bache, no. market street. . [entered according to law.] this much-abridged copy of the memorial has been followed in all subsequent editions, so that the real document has not hitherto appeared.( ) in appending the memorial to his "letter to washington," paine would naturally omit passages rendered unimportant by his release, but his friend bache may have suppressed others that might have embarrassed american partisans of france, such as the scene at the king's trial. bache's pamphlet reproduces the portrait engraved in villenave, where it is underlined: "peint par ped [peale] à philadelphie, dessiné par f. bonneville, gravé par sandoz." in bache it is: "bolt sc. "; and beneath this the curious inscription: "thomas paine. secretair d. americ: congr: . mitgl: d. fr. nat. convents. ." the portrait is a variant of that now in independence hall, and one of two painted by c. w. peale. the other (in which the chin is supported by the hand) was for religious reasons refused by the boston museum when it purchased the collection of "american heroes" from rembrandt peale. it was bought by john mcdonough, whose brother sold it to mr. joseph jefferson, the eminent actor, and perished when his house was burned at buzzard's bay. mr. jefferson writes me that he meant to give the portrait to the paine memorial society, boston; "but the cruel fire roasted the splendid _infidel_, so i presume the saints are satisfied." this description, however, and a large proportion of the suppressed pages, are historically among the most interesting parts of the memorial, and their restoration renders it necessary to transfer the document from its place as an appendix to that of a preliminary to the "letter to washington." paine's letter to washington burdens his reputation today more, probably, than any other production of his pen. the traditional judgment was formed in the absence of many materials necessary for a just verdict. the editor feels under the necessity of introducing at this point an historical episode; he cannot regard it as fair to the memory of either paine or washington that these two chapters should be printed without a full statement of the circumstances, the most important of which, but recently discovered, were unknown to either of those men. in the editor's "life of thomas paine" (ii., pp. - ) newly discovered facts and documents bearing on the subject are given, which may be referred to by those who desire to investigate critically such statements as may here appear insufficiently supported. considerations of space require that the history in that work should be only summarized here, especially as important new details must be added. paine was imprisoned (december , ) through the hostility of gouverneur morris, the american minister in paris. the fact that the united states, after kindling revolution in france by its example, was then represented in that country by a minister of vehement royalist opinions, and one who literally entered into the service of the king to defeat the republic, has been shown by that minister's own biographers. some light is cast on the events that led to this strange situation by a letter written to m. de mont-morin, minister of foreign affairs, by a french chargé d'affaires, louis otto, dated philadelphia, march, . otto, a nobleman who married into the livingston family, was an astute diplomatist, and enjoyed the intimacy of the secretary of state, jefferson, and of his friends. at the close of a long interview jefferson tells him that "the secresy with which the senate covers its deliberations serves to veil personal interest, which reigns therein in all its strength." otto explains this as referring to the speculative operations of senators, and to the commercial connections some of them have with england, making them unfriendly to french interests. "among the latter the most remarkable is mr. robert morris, of english birth, formerly superintendent of finance, a man of greatest talent, whose mercantile speculations are as unlimited as his ambition. he directs the senate as he once did the american finances in making it keep step with his policy and his business.... about two years ago mr. robert morris sent to france mr. gouverneur morris to negotiate a loan in his name, and for different other personal matters.... during his sojourn in france, mr. rob. morris thought he could make him more useful for his aims by inducing the president of the united states to entrust him with a negotiation with england relative to the commerce of the two countries. m. gouv. morris acquitted himself in this as an adroit man, and with his customary zeal, but despite his address (insinuation) obtained only the vague hope of an advantageous commercial treaty on condition of an _alliance resembling that between france and the united states_.... [mr. robert morris] is himself english, and interested in all the large speculations founded in this country for great britain.... his great services as superintendent of finance during the revolution have assured him the esteem and consideration of general washington, who, however, is far from adopting his views about france. the warmth with which mr. rob. morris opposed in the senate the exemption of french _armateurs_ from tonnage, demanded by his majesty, undoubtedly had for its object to induce the king, by this bad behavior, to break the treaty, in order to facilitate hereafter the negotiations begun with england to form an alliance. as for mr. gouv. morris he is entirely devoted to his correspondent, with whom he has been constantly connected in business and opinion. his great talents are recognized, and his extreme quickness in conceiving new schemes and gaining others to them. he is perhaps the most eloquent and ingenious man of his country, but his countrymen themselves distrust his talents. they admire but fear him." ( ) archives of the state department, paris, �tats unis., vol. , fol. . the commission given to gouverneur morris by washington, to which otto refers, was in his own handwriting, dated october , , and authorized him "in the capacity of private agent, and in the credit of this letter, to converse with his britannic majesty's ministers on these points, viz. whether there be any, and what objection to performing those articles of the treaty which remained to be performed on his part; and whether they incline to a treaty of commerce on any and what terms. this communication ought regularly to be made to you by the secretary of state; but, that office not being at present filled, my desire of avoiding delays induces me to make it under my own hand."( ) the president could hardly have assumed the authority of secretly appointing a virtual ambassador had there not been a tremendous object in view: this, as he explains in an accompanying letter, was to secure the evacuation by great britain of the frontier posts. this all-absorbing purpose of washington is the key to his administration. gouverneur morris paved the way for jay's treaty, and he was paid for it with the french mission. the senate would not have tolerated his appointment to england, and only by a majority of four could the president secure his confirmation as minister to france (january , ). the president wrote gouverneur morris (january th) a friendly lecture about the objections made to him, chiefly that he favored the aristocracy and was unfriendly to the revolution, and expressed "the fullest confidence" that, supposing the allegations founded, he would "effect a change." but gouverneur morris remained the agent of senator robert morris, and still held washington's mission to england, and he knew only as "conspirators" the rulers who succeeded louis xvi. even while utilizing them, he was an agent of great britain in its war against the country to which he was officially commissioned. ford's "writings of george washington" vol. xi., p. . lafayette wrote to washington ("paris, march , ") the following appeal: "permit me, my dear general, to make an observation for yourself alone, on the recent selection of an american ambassador. personally i am a friend of gouverneur morris, and have always been, in private, quite content with him; but the aristocratic and really contra-revolutionary principles which he has avowed render him little fit to represent the only government resembling ours.... i cannot repress the desire that american and french principles should be in the heart and on the lips of the ambassador of the united states in france." ( ) in addition to this; two successive ministers from france, after the fall of the monarchy, conveyed to the american government the most earnest remonstrances against the continuance of gouverneur morris in their country, one of them reciting the particular offences of which he was guilty. the president's disregard of all these protests and entreaties, unexampled perhaps in history, had the effect of giving gouverneur morris enormous power over the country against which he was intriguing. he was recognized as the irremovable. he represented washington's fixed and unalterable determination, and this at a moment when the main purpose of the revolutionary leaders was to preserve the alliance with america. robespierre at that time ( ) had special charge of diplomatic affairs, and it is shown by the french historian, frédéric masson, that he was very anxious to recover for the republic the initiative of the american alliance credited to the king; and "although their minister, gouverneur morris, was justly suspected, and the american republic was at that time aiming only to utilize the condition of its ally, the french republic cleared it at a cheap rate of its debts contracted with the king."( ) morris adroitly held this doubt, whether the alliance of his government with louis xvi. would be continued to that king's executioners, over the head of the revolutionists, as a suspended sword. under that menace, and with the authentication of being washington's irremovable mouthpiece, this minister had only to speak and it was done. "mémoire», etc., du general lafayette," bruxelles, , tome ii., pp. , . "le département des affaires �trangères pendant la révolution," p. . meanwhile gouverneur morris was steadily working in france for the aim which he held in common with robert morris, namely to transfer the alliance from france to england. these two nations being at war, it was impossible for france to fulfil all the terms of the alliance; it could not permit english ships alone to seize american provisions on the seas, and it was compelled to prevent american vessels from leaving french ports with cargoes certain of capture by british cruisers. in this way a large number of american captains with their ships were detained in france, to their distress, but to their minister's satisfaction. he did not fail to note and magnify all "infractions" of the treaty, with the hope that they might be the means of annulling it in favor of england, and he did nothing to mitigate sufferings which were counts in his indictment of the treaty. it was at this point that paine came in the american minister's way. he had been on good terms with gouverneur morris, who in (may th) wrote from london to the president: "on the th mr. paine called to tell me that he had conversed on the same subject [impressment of american seamen] with mr. burke, who had asked him if there was any minister, consul, or other agent of the united states who could properly make application to the government: to which he had replied in the negative; but said that i was here, who had been a member of congress, and was therefore the fittest person to step forward. in consequence of what passed thereupon between them he [paine] urged me to take the matter up, which i promised to do. on the th i wrote to the duke of leeds requesting an interview." force's "american state papers, for. rel.," vol. i. at that time ( ) paine was as yet a lion in london, thus able to give morris a lift. he told morris, in that he considered his appointment to france a mistake. this was only on the ground of his anti-republican opinions; he never dreamed of the secret commissions to england. he could not have supposed that the minister who had so promptly presented the case of impressed seamen in england would not equally attend to the distressed captains in france; but these, neglected by their minister, appealed to paine. paine went to see morris, with whom he had an angry interview, during which he asked morris "if he did not feel ashamed to take the money of the country and do nothing for it." paine thus incurred the personal enmity of gouverneur morris. by his next step he endangered this minister's scheme for increasing the friction between france and america; for paine advised the americans to appeal directly to the convention, and introduced them to that body, which at once heeded their application, morris being left out of the matter altogether. this was august d, and morris was very angry. it is probable that the americans in paris felt from that time that paine was in danger, for on september th a memorial, evidently concocted by them, was sent to the french government proposing that they should send commissioners to the united states to forestall the intrigues of england, and that paine should go with them, and set forth their case in the journals, as he "has great influence with the people." this looks like a design to get paine safely out of the country, but it probably sealed his fate. had paine gone to america and reported there morris's treacheries to france and to his own country, and his licentiousness, notorious in paris, which his diary has recently revealed to the world, the career of the minister would have swiftly terminated. gouverneur morris wrote to robert morris that paine was intriguing for his removal, and intimates that he (paine) was ambitious of taking his place in paris. paine's return to america must be prevented. had the american minister not been well known as an enemy of the republic it might have been easy to carry paine from the convention to the guillotine; but under the conditions the case required all of the ingenuity even of a diplomatist so adroit as gouverneur morris. but fate had played into his hand. it so happened that louis otto, whose letter from philadelphia has been quoted, had become chief secretary to the minister of foreign affairs in paris, m. deforgues. this minister and his secretary, apprehending the fate that presently overtook both, were anxious to be appointed to america. no one knew better than otto the commanding influence of gouverneur morris, as washington's "irremovable" representative, both in france and america, and this desire of the two frightened officials to get out of france was confided to him.( ) by hope of his aid, and by this compromising confidence, deforgues came under the power of a giant who used it like a giant. morris at once hinted that paine was fomenting the troubles given by genêt to washington in america, and thus set in motion the procedure by which paine was ultimately lodged in prison. there being no charge against paine in france, and no ill-will felt towards him by robespierre, compliance with the supposed will of washington was in this case difficult. six months before, a law had been passed to imprison aliens of hostile nationality, which could not affect paine, he being a member of the convention and an american. but a decree was passed, evidently to reach paine, "that no foreigner should be admitted to represent the french people"; by this he was excluded from the convention, and the committee of general surety enabled to take the final step of assuming that he was an englishman, and thus under the decree against aliens of hostile nations.( ) letter of gouverneur morris to washington, oct , . sparks's "life of gouverneur morris," vol. ii., p. . although, as i have said, there was no charge against paine in france, and none assigned in any document connected with his arrest, some kind of insinuation had to be made in the convention to cover proceedings against a deputy, and bourdon de l'oise said, "i know that he has intrigued with a former agent of the bureau of foreign affairs." it will be seen by the third addendum to the memorial to monroe that paine supposed this to refer to louis otto, who had been his interpreter in an interview requested by barère, of the committee of public safety. but as otto was then, early in september, , secretary in the foreign office, and barère a fellow-terrorist of bourdon, there could be no accusation based on an interview which, had it been probed, would have put paine's enemies to confusion. it is doubtful, however, if paine was right in his conjecture. the reference of bourdon was probably to the collusion between paine and genêt suggested by morris. paine was thus lodged in prison simply to please washington, to whom it was left to decide whether he had been rightly represented by his minister in the case. when the large number of americans in paris hastened in a body to the convention to demand his release, the president (vadier) extolled paine, but said his birth in england brought him under the measures of safety, and referred them to the committees. there they were told that "their reclamation was only the act of individuals, without any authority from the american government." unfortunately the american petitioners, not understanding by this a reference to the president, unsuspiciously repaired to morris, as also did paine by letter. the minister pretended compliance, thereby preventing their direct appeal to the president. knowing, however, that america would never agree that nativity under the british flag made paine any more than other americans a citizen of england, the american minister came from sain-port, where he resided, to paris, and secured from the obedient deforgues a certificate that he had reclaimed paine as an american citizen, but that he was held as a _french_ citizen. this ingeniously prepared certificate which was sent to the secretary of state (jefferson), and morris's pretended "reclamation," _which was never sent to america_, are translated in my "life of paine," and here given in the original. � paris le février , pluviôse. le minisire plénipotentiaire des �tats unis de l'amérique près la république française au ministre des affaires �trangères. monsieur: thomas paine vient de s'adresser à moi pour que je le réclame comme citoyen des �tats unis. voici (je crois) les faits que le regardent. il est né en angleterre. devenu ensuite citoyen des �tats unis il s'y est acquise une grande célébrité par des �crits révolutionnaires. en consequence il fût adopté citoyen français et ensuite élu membre de la convention. sa conduite depuis cette époque n'est pas de mon ressort. j'ignore la cause de sa détention actuelle dans la prison du luxembourg, mais je vous prie monsieur (si des raisons que ne me sont pas connues s'opposent à sa liberation) de vouloir bien m'en instruire pour que je puisse les communiquer au gouvernement des �tats unis. j'ai l'honneur d'être, monsieur, votre très humble serviteur gouv. morris. paris, i ventôse l'an ad. de la république une et indivisible. le ministre des affaires �trangères au ministre plénipotentiaire des �tats unis de v amérique près la république française. par votre lettre du du mois dernier, vous réclamez la liberté de thomas faine, comme citoyen américain. né en angleterre, cet ex-deputé est devenu successivement citoyen américain et citoyen français. en acceptant ce dernier titre et en remplissant une place dans le corps législatif, il est soumis aux lob de la république et il a renoncé de fait à la protection que le droit des gens et les traités conclus avec les �tats unis auraient pu lui assurer. j'ignore les motifs de sa détention mais je dois présumer qûils bien fondés. je vois néanmoins soumettre au comité de salut public la démande que vous m'avez adressée et je m'empresserai de vous faire connaître sa décision. dir orgubs. ( ) archives of the foreign office, paris, "�tats unis," vol. xl. translations:--morris: "sir,--thomas paine has just applied to me to claim him as a citizen of the united states. here (i believe) are the facts relating to him. he was born in england. having afterwards become a citizen of the united states, he acquired great celebrity there by his revolutionary writings. in consequence he was adopted a french citizen and then elected member of the convention. his conduct since this epoch is out of my jurisdiction. i am ignorant of the reason for his present detention in the luxembourg prison, but i beg you, sir (if reasons unknown to me prevent his liberation), be so good as to inform me, that i may communicate them to the government of the united states." deporgurs: "by your letter of the th of last month you reclaim the liberty of thomas paine as an american citizen. born in england, this ex-deputy has become successively an american and a french citizen. in accepting this last title, and in occupying a place in the corps législatif he submitted himself to the laws of the republic, and has certainly renounced the protection which the law of nations, and treaties concluded with the united states, could have assured him. i am ignorant of the motives of his detention, but i must presume they are well founded. i shall nevertheless submit to the committee of public safety the demand you have addressed to me, and i shall lose no time in letting you know its decision." it will be seen that deforgues begins his letter with a falsehood: "you reclaim the liberty of paine as an american citizen." morris's letter had declared him a french citizen out of his (the american minister's) "jurisdiction." morris states for deforgues his case, and it is obediently adopted, though quite discordant with the decree, which imprisoned paine as a foreigner. deforgues also makes paine a member of a non-existent body, the "corps législatif," which might suggest in philadelphia previous connection with the defunct assembly. no such inquiries as deforgues promised, nor any, were ever made, and of course none were intended. morris had got from deforgues the certificate he needed to show in philadelphia and to americans in paris. his pretended "reclamation" was of course withheld: no copy of it ever reached america till brought from french archives by the present writer. morris does not appear to have ventured even to keep a copy of it himself. the draft (presumably in english), found among his papers by sparks, alters the fatal sentence which deprived paine of his american citizenship and of protection. "res-sort"--jurisdiction--which has a definite technical meaning in the mouth of a minister, is changed to "cognizance"; the sentence is made to read, "his conduct from that time has not come under my cognizance." (sparks's "life of gouverneur morris," i., p. ). even as it stands in his book, sparks says: "the application, it must be confessed, was neither pressing in its terms, nor cogent in its arguments." the american minister, armed with this french missive, dictated by himself, enclosed it to the secretary of state, whom he supposed to be still jefferson, with a letter stating that he had reclaimed paine as an american, that he (paine) was held to answer for "crimes," and that any further attempt to release him would probably be fatal to the prisoner. by these falsehoods, secured from detection by the profound secrecy of the foreign offices in both countries, morris paralyzed all interference from america, as washington could not of course intervene in behalf of an american charged with "crimes" committed in a foreign country, except to demand his trial. but it was important also to paralyze further action by americans in paris, and to them, too, was shown the french certificate of a reclamation never made. a copy was also sent to paine, who returned to morris an argument which he entreated him to embody in a further appeal to the french minister. this document was of course buried away among the papers of morris, who never again mentioned paine in any communication to the french government, but contented himself with personal slanders of his victim in private letters to washington's friend, robert morris, and no doubt others. i quote sparks's summary of the argument unsuspectingly sent by paine to morris: "he first proves himself to have been an american citizen, a character of which he affirms no subsequent act had deprived him. the title of french citizen was a mere nominal and honorary one, which the convention chose to confer, when they asked him to help them in making a constitution. but let the nature or honor of the title be what it might, the convention had taken it away of their own accord. 'he was excluded from the convention on the motion for excluding _foreigners_. consequently he was no longer under the law of the republic as a _citizen_, but under the protection of the treaty of alliance, as fully and effectually as any other citizen of america. it was therefore the duty of the american minister to demand his release.'" to this sparks adds: "such is the drift of paine's argument, and it would seem indeed that he could not be a foreigner and a citizen at the same time. it was hard that his only privilege of citizenship should be that of imprisonment. but this logic was a little too refined for the revolutionary tribunals of the jacobins in paris, and mr. morris well knew it was not worth while to preach it to them. he did not believe there was any serious design at that time against the life of the prisoner, and he considered his best chance of safety to be in preserving silence for the present. here the matter rested, and paine was left undisturbed till the arrival of mr. monroe, who procured his discharge from confinement." ("life of gouverneur morris," i., p. .)l sparks takes the gracious view of the man whose life he was writing, but the facts now known turn his words to sarcasm. the terror by which paine suffered was that of morris, who warned him and his friends, both in paris and america, that if his case was stirred the knife would fall on him. paine declares (see xx.) that this danger kept him silent till after the fall of robespierre. none knew so well as morris that there were no charges against paine for offences in france, and that robespierre was awaiting that action by washington which he (morris) had rendered impossible. having thus suspended the knife over paine for six months, robespierre interpreted the president's silence, and that of congress, as confirmation of morris's story, and resolved on the execution of paine "in the interests of america as well as of france"; in other words to conciliate washington to the endangered alliance with france. paine escaped the guillotine by the strange accident related in a further chapter. the fall of robespierre did not of course end his imprisonment, for he was not robespierre's but washington's prisoner. morris remained minister in france nearly a month after robespierre's death, but the word needed to open paine's prison was not spoken. after his recall, had monroe been able at once to liberate paine, an investigation must have followed, and morris would probably have taken his prisoner's place in the luxembourg. but morris would not present his letters of recall, and refused to present his successor, thus keeping monroe out of his office four weeks. in this he was aided by bourdon de l'oise (afterwards banished as a royalist conspirator, but now a commissioner to decide on prisoners); also by tools of robespierre who had managed to continue on the committee of public safety by laying their crimes on the dead scapegoat--robespierre. against barère (who had signed paine's death-warrant), billaud-varennes, and colloit d'her-bois, paine, if liberated, would have been a terrible witness. the committee ruled by them had suppressed paine's appeal to the convention, as they presently suppressed monroe's first appeal. paine, knowing that monroe had arrived, but never dreaming that the manoeuvres of morris were keeping him out of office, wrote him from prison the following letters, hitherto unpublished. there is no need to delay the reader here with any argument about paine's unquestionable citizenship, that point having been settled by his release as an american, and the sanction of monroe's action by his government. there was no genuineness in any challenge of paine's citizenship, but a mere desire to do him an injury. in this it had marvellous success. ten years after paine had been reclaimed by monroe, with the sanction of washington, as an american citizen, his vote was refused at new rochelle, new york, by the supervisor, elisha ward, on the ground that washington and morris had refused to declaim him. under his picture of the dead paine, jarvis, the artist, wrote: "a man who devoted his whole life to the attainment of two objects--rights of man, and freedom of conscience--had his vote denied when living, and was denied a grave when dead."--_editor._ august th, . my dear sir: as i believe none of the public papers have announced your name right i am unable to address you by it, but a _new_ minister from america is joy to me and will be so to every american in france. eight months i have been imprisoned, and i know not for what, except that the order says that i am a foreigner. the illness i have suffered in this place (and from which i am but just recovering) had nearly put an end to my existence. my life is but of little value to me in this situation tho' i have borne it with a firmness of patience and fortitude. i enclose you a copy of a letter, (as well the translation as the english)--which i sent to the convention after the fall of the monster robespierre--for i was determined not to write a line during the time of his detestable influence. i sent also a copy to the committee of public safety--but i have not heard any thing respecting it. i have now no expectation of delivery but by your means--_morris has been my inveterate enemy_ and i think he has permitted something of the national character of america to suffer by quietly letting a citizen of that country remain almost eight months in prison without making every official exertion to procure him justice,--for every act of violence offered to a foreigner is offered also to the nation to which he belongs. the gentleman, mr. beresford, who will present you this has been very friendly to me.( ) wishing you happiness in your appointment, i am your affectionate friend and humble servant. august th, . dear sir: in addition to my letter of yesterday (sent to mr. beresford to be conveyed to you but which is delayed on account of his being at st. germain) i send the following memoranda. i was in london at the time i was elected a member of this convention. i was elected a deputé in four different departments without my knowing any thing of the matter, or having the least idea of it. the intention of electing the convention before the time of the former legislature expired, was for the purpose of reforming the constitution or rather for forming a new one. as the former legislature shewed a disposition that i should assist in this business of the new constitution, they prepared the way by voting me a french citoyen (they conferred the same title on general washington and certainly i had no more idea than he had of vacating any part of my real citizenship of america for a nominal one in france, especially at a time when she did not know whether she would be a nation or not, and had it not even in her power to promise me protection). i was elected (the second person in number of votes, the abbé sieves being first) a member for forming the constitution, and every american in paris as well as my other acquaintance knew that it was my intention to return to america as soon as the constitution should be established. the violence of party soon began to shew itself in the convention, but it was impossible for me to see upon what principle they differed--unless it was a contention for power. i acted however as i did in america, i connected myself with no party, but considered myself altogether a national man--but the case with parties generally is that when you are not with one you are supposed to be with the other. a friendly lamp-lighter, alluded to in the letter to washington, conveyed this letter to mr. beresford.-- _editor._ i was taken out of bed between three and four in the morning on the of december last, and brought to the luxembourg--without any other accusation inserted in the order than that i was a foreigner; a motion having been made two days before in the convention to expel foreigners therefrom. i certainly then remained, even upon their own tactics, what i was before, a citizen of america. about three weeks after my imprisonment the americans that were in paris went to the bar of the convention to reclaim me, but contrary to my advice, they made their address into a petition, and it miscarried. i then applied to g. morris, to reclaim me as an official part of his duty, which he found it necessary to do, and here the matter stopt.( ) i have not heard a single line or word from any american since, which is now seven months. i rested altogether on the hope that a new minister would arrive from america. i have escaped with life from more dangers than one. had it not been for the fall of roberspierre and your timely arrival i know not what fate might have yet attended me. there seemed to be a determination to destroy all the prisoners without regard to merit, character, or any thing else. during the time i laid at the height of my illness they took, in one night only, persons out of this prison and executed all but eight. the distress that i have suffered at being obliged to exist in the midst of such horrors, exclusive of my own precarious situation, suspended as it were by the single thread of accident, is greater than it is possible you can conceive--but thank god times are at last changed, and i hope that your authority will release me from this unjust imprisonment. the falsehood told paine, accompanied by an intimation of danger in pursuing the pretended reclamation, was of course meant to stop any farther action by paine or his friends.-- _editor._. august , . my dear sir: having nothing to do but to sit and think, i will write to pass away time, and to say that i am still here. i have received two notes from mr. beresford which are encouraging (as the generality of notes and letters are that arrive to persons here) but they contain nothing explicit or decisive with respect to my liberation, and _i shall be very glad to receive a line from yourself to inform me in what condition the matter stands_. if i only glide out of prison by a sort of accident america gains no credit by my liberation, neither can my attachment to her be increased by such a circumstance. she has had the services of my best days, she has my allegiance, she receives my portion of taxes for my house in borden town and my farm at new rochelle, and she owes me protection both at home and thro' her ministers abroad, yet i remain in prison, in the face of her minister, at the arbitrary will of a committee. excluded as i am from the knowledge of everything and left to a random of ideas, i know not what to think or how to act. before there was any minister here (for i consider morris as none) and while the robespierrian faction lasted, i had nothing to do but to keep my mind tranquil and expect the fate that was every day inflicted upon my comrades, not individually but by scores. many a man whom i have passed an hour with in conversation i have seen marching to his destruction the next hour, or heard of it the next morning; for what rendered the scene more horrible was that they were generally taken away at midnight, so that every man went to bed with the apprehension of never seeing his friends or the world again. i wish to impress upon you that all the changes that have taken place in paris have been sudden. there is now a moment of calm, but if thro' any over complaisance to the persons you converse with on the subject of my liberation, you omit procuring it for me _now_, you may have to lament the fate of your friend when its too late. the loss of a battle to the northward or other possible accident may happen to bring this about. i am not out of danger till i am out of prison. yours affectionately. p. s.--i am now entirely without money. the convention owes me livres salary which i know not how to get while i am here, nor do i know how to draw for money on the rent of my farm in america. it is under the care of my good friend general lewis morris. i have received no rent since i have been in europe. [addressed] minister plenipotentiary from america, maison des �trangers, rue de la loi, rue richelieu. such was the sufficiently cruel situation when there reached paine in prison, september th, the letter of peter whiteside which caused him to write his memorial. whiteside was a philadelphian whose bankruptcy in london had swallowed up some of paine's means. his letter, reporting to paine that he was not regarded by the american government or people as an american citizen, and that no american minister could interfere in his behalf, was evidently inspired by morris who was still in paris, the authorities being unwilling to give him a passport to switzerland, as they knew he was going in that direction to join the conspirators against france. this whiteside letter put paine, and through him monroe, on a false scent by suggesting that the difficulty of his case lay in a _bona fide_ question of citizenship, whereas there never had been really any such question. the knot by which morris had bound paine was thus concealed, and monroe was appealing to polite wolves in the interest of their victim. there were thus more delays, inexplicable alike to monroe and to paine, eliciting from the latter some heartbroken letters, not hitherto printed, which i add at the end of the memorial. to add to the difficulties and dangers, paris was beginning to be agitated by well-founded rumors of jay's injurious negotiations in england, and a coldness towards monroe was setting in. had paine's release been delayed much longer an american minister's friendship might even have proved fatal. of all this nothing could be known to paine, who suffered agonies he had not known during the reign of terror. the other prisoners of robespierre's time had departed; he alone paced the solitary corridors of the luxembourg, chilled by the autumn winds, his cell tireless, unlit by any candle, insufficiently nourished, an abscess forming in his side; all this still less cruel than the feeling that he was abandoned, not only by washington but by all america. this is the man of whom washington wrote to madison nine years before: "must the merits and services of 'common sense' continue to glide down the stream of time unrewarded by this country?" this, then, is his reward. to his old comrade in the battle-fields of liberty, george washington, paine owed his ten months of imprisonment, at the end of which monroe found him a wreck, and took him (november ) to his own house, where he and his wife nursed him back into life. but it was not for some months supposed that paine could recover; it was only after several relapses; and it was under the shadow of death that he wrote the letter to washington so much and so ignorantly condemned. those who have followed the foregoing narrative will know that paine's grievances were genuine, that his infamous treatment stains american history; but they will also know that they lay chiefly at the door of a treacherous and unscrupulous american minister. yet it is difficult to find an excuse for the retention of that minister in france by washington. on monroe's return to america in , he wrote a pamphlet concerning the mission from which he had been curtly recalled, in which he said: "i was persuaded from mr. morris's known political character and principles, that his appointment, and especially at a period when the french nation was in a course of revolution from an arbitrary to a free government, would tend to discountenance the republican cause there and at home, and otherwise weaken, and greatly to our prejudice, the connexion subsisting between the two countries." in a copy of this pamphlet found at mount vernon, washington wrote on the margin of this sentence: "mr. morris was known to be a man of first rate abilities; and his integrity and honor had never been impeached. besides, mr. morris was sent whilst the kingly government was in existence, ye end of or beginning of ." ( ) but this does not explain why gouverneur morris was persistently kept in france after monarchy was abolished (september , ), or even after lafayette's request for his removal, already quoted. to that letter of lafayette no reply has been discovered. after the monarchy was abolished, ternant and genêt successively carried to america protests from their foreign office against the continuance of a minister in france, who was known in paris, and is now known to all acquainted with his published papers, to have all along made his office the headquarters of british intrigue against france, american interests being quite subordinated. washington did not know this, but he might have known it, and his disregard of french complaints can hardly be ascribed to any other cause than his delusion that morris was deeply occupied with the treaty negotiations confided to him. it must be remembered that washington believed such a treaty with england to be the alternative of war.( ) on that apprehension the british party in america, and british agents, played to the utmost, and under such influences washington sacrificed many old friendships,--with jefferson, madison, monroe, edmund randolph, paine,--and also the confidence of his own state, virginia. washington's marginal notes on monroe's "view, etc.," were first fully given in ford's "writings of washington," vol. xiii., p. , seq. ibid., p. . there is a traditional impression that paine's angry letter to washington was caused by the president's failure to inter-pose for his relief from prison. but paine believed that the american minister (morris) had reclaimed him in some feeble fashion, as an american citizen, and he knew that the president had officially approved monroe's action in securing his release. his grievance was that washington, whose letters of friendship he cherished, who had extolled his services to america, should have manifested no concern personally, made no use of his commanding influence to rescue him from daily impending death, sent to his prison no word of kindness or inquiry, and sent over their mutual friend monroe without any instructions concerning him; and finally, that his private letter, asking explanation, remained unanswered. no doubt this silence of washington concerning the fate of paine, whom he acknowledged to be an american citizen, was mainly due to his fear of offending england, which had proclaimed paine. the "outlaw's" imprisonment in paris caused jubilations among the english gentry, and went on simultaneously with jay's negotiations in london, when any expression by washington of sympathy with paine (certain of publication) might have imperilled the treaty, regarded by the president as vital. so anxious was the president about this, that what he supposed had been done for paine by morris, and what had really been done by monroe, was kept in such profound secrecy, that even his secretary of state, pickering, knew nothing of it. this astounding fact i recently discovered in the manuscripts of that secretary.( ) colonel pickering, while flattering enough to the president in public, despised his intellect, and among his papers is a memorandum concluding as follows: "but when the hazards of the revolutionary war had ended, by the establishment of our independence, why was the knowledge of general washington's comparatively defective mental powers not freely divulged? why, even by the enemies of his civil administration were his abilities very tenderly glanced at? --because there were few, if any men, who did not revere him for his distinguished virtues; his modesty--his unblemished integrity, his pure and disinterested patriotism. these virtues, of infinitely more value than exalted abilities without them, secured to him the veneration and love of his fellow citizens at large. thus immensely popular, no man was willing to publish, under his hand, even the simple truth. the only exception, that i recollect, was the infamous tom paine; and this when in france, after he had escaped the guillotine of robespierre; and in resentment, because, after he had participated in the french revolution, president washington seemed not to have thought him so very important a character in the world, as officially to interpose for his relief from the fangs of the french ephemeral rulers. in a word, no man, however well informed, was willing to hazard his own popularity by exhibiting the real intellectual character of the immensely popular washington." massachusetts historical society, vol. ., p. . how can this ignorance of an astute man, secretary of state under washington and adams, be explained? had washington hidden the letters showing on their face that he _had_ "officially interposed" for paine by two ministers? madison, writing to monroe, april , , says that pickering had spoken to him "in harsh terms" of a letter written by paine to the president. this was a private letter of september , , afterwards printed in paine's public letter to washington. the secretary certainly read that letter on its arrival, january , , and yet washington does not appear to have told him of what had been officially done in paine's case! such being the secrecy which washington had carried from the camp to the cabinet, and the morbid extent of it while the british treaty was in negotiation and discussion, one can hardly wonder at his silence under paine's private appeal and public reproach. much as pickering hated paine, he declares him the only man who ever told the simple truth about washington. in the lapse of time historical research, while removing the sacred halo of washington, has revealed beneath it a stronger brain than was then known to any one. paine published what many whispered, while they were fawning on washington for office, or utilizing his power for partisan ends. washington, during his second administration, when his mental decline was remarked by himself, by jefferson, and others, was regarded by many of his eminent contemporaries as fallen under the sway of small partisans. not only was the influence of jefferson, madison, randolph, monroe, livingston, alienated, but the counsels of hamilton were neutralized by wolcott and pickering, who apparently agreed about the president's "mental powers." had not paine previously incurred the _odium theologicum_, his pamphlet concerning washington would have been more damaging; even as it was, the verdict was by no means generally favorable to the president, especially as the replies to paine assumed that washington had indeed failed to try and rescue him from impending death.( ) a pamphlet written by bache, printed anonymously ( ), remarks occasioned by the late conduct of mr. washington, indicates the belief of those who raised washington to power, that both randolph and paine had been sacrificed to please great britain. the _bien-informé_ (paris, november , ) published a letter from philadelphia, which may find translation here as part of the history of the pamphlet: "the letter of thomas paine to general washington is read here with avidity. we gather from the english papers that the cabinet of st james has been unable to stop the circulation of that pamphlet in england, since it is allowable to reprint there any english work already published elsewhere, however disagreeable to messrs. pitt and dundas. we read in the letter to washington that robespierre had declared to the committee of public safety that it was desirable in the interests of both france and america that thomas paine, who, for seven or eight months had been kept a prisoner in the luxembourg, should forthwith be brought up for judgment before the revolutionary tribunal. the proof of this fact is found in robespierre's papers, and gives ground for strange suspicions." the principal ones were "a letter to thomas paine. by an american citizen. new york, ," and "a letter to the infamous tom paine, in answer to his letter to general washington. december . by peter porcupine" (cobbett). writing to david stuart, january , , washington, speaking of himself in the third person, says: "although he is soon to become a private citizen, his opinions are to be knocked down, and his character traduced as low as they are capable of sinking it, even by resorting to absolute falsehoods. as an evidence whereof, and of the plan they are pursuing, i send you a letter of mr. paine to me, printed in this city and disseminated with great industry. enclosed you will receive also a production of peter porcupine, alias william cobbett. making allowances for the asperity of an englishman, for some of his strong and coarse expressions, and a want of official information as to many facts, it is not a bad thing." the "many facts" were, of course, the action of monroe, and the supposed action of morris in paris, but not even to one so intimate as stuart are these disclosed. "it was long believed that paine had returned to america with his friend james monroe, and the lovers of freedom [there] congratulated themselves on being able to embrace that illustrious champion of the rights of man. their hopes have been frustrated. we know positively that thomas paine is still living in france. the partizans of the late presidency [in america] also know it well, yet they have spread a rumor that after actually arriving he found his (really popular) _principles no longer the order of the day_, and thought best to re-embark. "the english journals, while repeating this idle rumor, observed that it was unfounded, and that paine had not left france. some french journals have copied these london paragraphs, but without comments; so that at the very moment when thomas paine's letter on the th. fructidor is published, _la clef du cabinet_ says that this citizen is suffering unpleasantness in america." paine had intended to return with monroe, in the spring of , but, suspecting the captain and a british cruiser in the distance, returned from havre to paris. the packet was indeed searched by the cruiser for paine, and, had he been captured, england would have executed the sentence pronounced by robespierre to please washington. memorial addressed to james monroe, minister from the united states of america to the french republic. prison of the luxembourg, sept. th, . i address this memorial to you, in consequence of a letter i received from a friend, fructidor (september th,) in which he says, "mr. monroe has told me, that he has no orders [meaning from the american government] respecting you; but i am sure he will leave nothing undone to liberate you; but, from what i can learn, from all the late americans, you are not considered either by the government, or by the individuals, as an american citizen. you have been made a french citizen, which you have accepted, and you have further made yourself a servant of the french republic; and, therefore, it would be out of character for an american minister to interfere in their internal concerns. you must therefore either be liberated out of compliment to america, or stand your trial, which you have a right to demand." this information was so unexpected by me, that i am at a loss how to answer it. i know not on what principle it originates; whether from an idea that i had voluntarily abandoned my citizenship of america for that of france, or from any article of the american constitution applied to me. the first is untrue with respect to any intention on my part; and the second is without foundation, as i shall shew in the course of this memorial. the idea of conferring honor of citizenship upon foreigners, who had distinguished themselves in propagating the principles of liberty and humanity, in opposition to despotism, war, and bloodshed, was first proposed by me to la fayette, at the commencement of the french revolution, when his heart appeared to be warmed with those principles. my motive in making this proposal, was to render the people of different nations more fraternal than they had been, or then were. i observed that almost every branch of science had possessed itself of the exercise of this right, so far as it regarded its own institution. most of the academies and societies in europe, and also those of america, conferred the rank of honorary member, upon foreigners eminent in knowledge, and made them, in fact, citizens of their literary or scientific republic, without affecting or anyways diminishing their rights of citizenship in their own country or in other societies: and why the science of government should not have the same advantage, or why the people of one nation should not, by their representatives, exercise the right of conferring the honor of citizenship upon individuals eminent in another nation, without affecting _their_ rights of citizenship, is a problem yet to be solved. i now proceed to remark on that part of the letter, in which the writer says, that, _from what he can learn from all the late americans, i am not considered in america, either by the government or by the individuals, as an american citizen_. in the first place i wish to ask, what is here meant by the government of america? the members who compose the government are only individuals, when in conversation, and who, most probably, hold very different opinions upon the subject. have congress as a body made any declaration respecting me, that they now no longer consider me as a citizen? if they have not, anything they otherwise say is no more than the opinion of individuals, and consequently is not legal authority, nor anyways sufficient authority to deprive any man of his citizenship. besides, whether a man has forfeited his rights of citizenship, is a question not determinable by congress, but by a court of judicature and a jury; and must depend upon evidence, and the application of some law or article of the constitution to the case. no such proceeding has yet been had, and consequently i remain a citizen until it be had, be that decision what it may; for there can be no such thing as a suspension of rights in the interim. i am very well aware, and always was, of the article of the constitution which says, as nearly as i can recollect the words, that "any citizen of the united states, who shall accept any title, place, or office, from any foreign king, prince, or state, shall forfeit and lose his right of citizenship of the united states." had the article said, that _any citizen of the united states, who shall be a member of any foreign convention, for the purpose of forming a free constitution, shall forfeit and lose the right of citizenship of the united states_, the article had been directly applicable to me; but the idea of such an article never could have entered the mind of the american convention, and the present article _is_ altogether foreign to the case with respect to me. it supposes a government in active existence, and not a government dissolved; and it supposes a citizen of america accepting titles and offices under that government, and not a citizen of america who gives his assistance in a convention chosen by the people, for the purpose of forming a government _de nouveau_ founded on their authority. the late constitution and government of france was dissolved the th of august, . the national legislative assembly then in being, supposed itself without sufficient authority to continue its sittings, and it proposed to the departments to elect not another legislative assembly, but a convention for the express purpose of forming a new constitution. when the assembly were discoursing on this matter, some of the members said, that they wished to gain all the assistance possible upon the subject of free constitutions; and expressed a wish to elect and invite foreigners of any nation to the convention, who had distinguished themselves in defending, explaining, and propagating the principles of liberty. it was on this occasion that my name was mentioned in the assembly. (i was then in england.) in the american pamphlet a footnote, probably added by bache, here says: "even this article does not exist in the manner here stated." it is a pity paine did not have in his prison the article, which says: "no person holding any office of profit or trust under them [the united states] shall, without the consent of congress, accept of any present, emolument, office, or title of any kind whatever, from any king, prince, or foreign state."--_editor._ after this, a deputation from a body of the french people, in order to remove any objection that might be made against my assisting at the proposed convention, requested the assembly, as their representatives, to give me the title of french citizen; after which, i was elected a member of the convention, in four different departments, as is already known.( ) the case, therefore, is, that i accepted nothing from any king, prince, or state, nor from any government: for france was without any government, except what arose from common consent, and the necessity of the case. neither did i _make myself a servant of the french republic_, as the letter alluded to expresses; for at that time france was not a republic, not even in name. she was altogether a people in a state of revolution. it was not until the convention met that france was declared a republic, and monarchy abolished; soon after which a committee was elected, of which i was a member,( ) to form a constitution, which was presented to the convention [and read by condorcet, who was also a member] the th and th of february following, but was not to be taken into consideration till after the expiration of two months,( ) and if approved of by the convention, was then to be referred to the people for their acceptance, with such additions or amendments as the convention should make. the deputation referred to was described as the "commission extraordinaire," in whose name m. guadet moved that the title of french citizen be conferred on priestley, paine, bentham, wilberforce, clarkson, mackintosh, david williams, cormelle, paw, pestalozzi, washington, madison, hamilton, klopstock, koscinsko, gorani, campe, anacharsis clootz, gilleers. this was on august , and paine was elected by calais on september , ; and in the same week by oise, somme, and puy-de-dome.--_editor._ sieves, paine, brissot, pétion, vergniaud, gensonne, barère, danton, condorcet.--_editor._ the remainder of this sentence is replaced in the american pamphlet by the following: "the disorders and the revolutionary government that took place after this put a stop to any further progress upon the case."--_editor._ in thus employing myself upon the formation of a constitution, i certainly did nothing inconsistent with the american constitution. i took no oath of allegiance to france, or any other oath whatever. i considered the citizenship they had presented me with as an honorary mark of respect paid to me not only as a friend to liberty, but as an american citizen. my acceptance of that, or of the deputyship, not conferred on me by any king, prince, or state, but by a people in a state of revolution and contending for liberty, required no transfer of my allegiance or of my citizenship from america to france. there i was a real citizen, paying taxes; here, i was a voluntary friend, employing myself on a temporary service. every american in paris knew that it was my constant intention to return to america, as soon as a constitution should be established, and that i anxiously waited for that event. i know not what opinions have been circulated in america. it may have been supposed there that i had voluntarily and intentionally abandoned america, and that my citizenship had ceased by my own choice. i can easily [believe] there are those in that country who would take such a proceeding on my part somewhat in disgust. the idea of forsaking old friendships for new acquaintances is not agreeable. i am a little warranted in making this supposition by a letter i received some time ago from the wife of one of the georgia delegates in which she says "your friends on this side the water cannot be reconciled to the idea of your abandoning america." i have never abandoned her in thought, word or deed; and i feel it incumbent upon me to give this assurance to the friends i have in that country and with whom i have always intended and am determined, if the possibility exists, to close the scene of my life. it is there that i have made myself a home. it is there that i have given the services of my best days. america never saw me flinch from her cause in the most gloomy and perilous of her situations; and i know there are those in that country who will not flinch from me. if i have enemies (and every man has some) i leave them to the enjoyment of their ingratitude.* * i subjoin in a note, for the sake of wasting the solitude of a prison, the answer that i gave to the part of the letter above mentioned. it is not inapplacable to the subject of this memorial; but it contain! somewhat of a melancholy idea, a little predictive, that i hope is not becoming true so soon. it is somewhat extraordinary that the idea of my not being a citizen of america should have arisen only at the time that i am imprisoned in france because, or on the pretence that, i am a foreigner. the case involves a strange contradiction of ideas. none of the americans who came to france whilst i was in liberty had conceived any such idea or circulated any such opinion; and why it should arise now is a matter yet to be explained. however discordant the late american minister g. m. [gouverneur morris] and the late french committee of public safety were, it suited the purpose of both that i should be continued in arrestation. the former wished to prevent my return to america, that i should not expose his misconduct; and the latter, lest i should publish to the world the history of its wickedness. whilst that minister and the committee continued i had no expectation of liberty. i speak here of the committee of which robespierre was member.( ) "you touch me on a very tender point when you say that my friends on your side the water cannot be reconciled to the idea of my abandoning america. they are right. i had rather see my horse button eating the grass of borden-town or morrisania than see all the pomp and show of europe. "a thousand years hence (for i must indulge a few thoughts) perhaps in less, america may be what europe now is. the innocence of her character, that won the hearts of all nations in her favour, may sound like a romance and her inimitable virtue as if it had never been. the ruin of that liberty which thousands bled for or struggled to obtain may just furnish materials for a village tale or extort a sigh from rustic sensibility, whilst the fashionable of that day, enveloped in dissipation, shall deride the principle and deny the fact. "when we contemplate the fall of empires and the extinction of the nations of the ancient world, we see but little to excite our regret than the mouldering ruins of pompous palaces, magnificent museums, lofty pyramids and walls and towers of the most costly workmanship; but when the empire of america shall fall, the subject for contemplative sorrow will be infinitely greater than crumbling brass and marble can inspire. it will not then be said, here stood a temple of vast antiquity; here rose a babel of invisible height; or there a palace of sumptuous extravagance; but here, ah, painful thought! the noblest work of human wisdom, the grandest scene of human glory, the fair cause of freedom rose and fell. read this, and then ask if i forget america."--author. this letter, quoted also in paine's letter to washington, was written from london, jan. , , to the wife of col. few, née kate nicholson. it is given in full in my "life of paine," i., p. .--_editor._ the memorial to monroe. i ever must deny, that the article of the american constitution already mentioned, can be applied either verbally, intentionally, or constructively, to me. it undoubtedly was the intention of the convention that framed it, to preserve the purity of the american republic from being debased by foreign and foppish customs; but it never could be its intention to act against the principles of liberty, by forbidding its citizens to assist in promoting those principles in foreign countries; neither could it be its intention to act against the principles of gratitude.( ) france had aided america in the establishment of her revolution, when invaded and oppressed by england and her auxiliaries. france in her turn was invaded and oppressed by a combination of foreign despots. in this situation, i conceived it an act of gratitude in me, as a citizen of america, to render her in return the best services i could perform. i came to france (for i was in england when i received the invitation) not to enjoy ease, emoluments, and foppish honours, as the article supposes; but to encounter difficulties and dangers in defence of liberty; and i much question whether those who now malignantly seek (for some i believe do) to turn this to my injury, would have had courage to have done the same thing. i am sure gouverneur morris would not. he told me the second day after my arrival, (in paris,) that the austrians and prussians, who were then at verdun, would be in paris in a fortnight. i have no idea, said he, that seventy thousand disciplined troops can be stopped in their march by any power in france. this and the two preceding paragraphs, including the footnote, are entirely omitted from the american pamphlet. it will be seen that paine had now a suspicion of the conspiracy between gouverneur morris and those by whom he was imprisoned. soon after his imprisonment he had applied to morris, who replied that he had reclaimed him, and enclosed the letter of deforgues quoted in my introduction to this chapter, of course withholding his own letter to the minister. paine answered (feb. , ): "you must not leave me in the situation in which this letter places me. you know i do not deserve it, and you see the unpleasant situation in which i am thrown. i have made an answer to the minister's letter, which i wish you to make ground of a reply to him. they have nothing against me--except that they do not choose i should lie in a state of freedom to write my mind freely upon things i have seen. though you and i are not on terms of the best harmony, i apply to you as the minister of america, and you may add to that service whatever you think my integrity deserves. at any rate i expect you to make congress acquainted with my situation, and to send them copies of the letters that have passed on the subject. a reply to the minister's letter is absolutely necessary, were it only to continue the reclamation. otherwise your silence will be a sort of consent to his observations." deforgues' "observations" having been dictated by morris himself, no reply was sent to him, and no word to congress.--_editor_. in the pamphlet this last clause of the sentence is omitted.--_editor._. besides the reasons i have already given for accepting the invitations to the convention, i had another that has reference particularly to america, and which i mentioned to mr. pinckney the night before i left london to come to paris: "that it was to the interest of america that the system of european governments should be changed and placed on the same principle with her own." mr. pinckney agreed fully in the same opinion. i have done my part towards it.( ) it is certain that governments upon similar systems agree better together than those that are founded on principles discordant with each other; and the same rule holds good with respect to the people living under them. in the latter case they offend each other by pity, or by reproach; and the discordancy carries itself to matters of commerce. i am not an ambitious man, but perhaps i have been an ambitious american. i have wished to see america the _mother church_ of government, and i have done my utmost to exalt her character and her condition. in the american pamphlet the name of pinckney (american minister in england) is left blank in this paragraph, and the two concluding sentences are omitted from both the french and american pamphlets.--_editor._, i have now stated sufficient matter, to shew that the article in question is not applicable to me; and that any such application to my injury, as well in circumstances as in rights, is contrary both to the letter and intention of that article, and is illegal and unconstitutional. neither do i believe that any jury in america, when they are informed of the whole of the case, would give a verdict to deprive me of my rights upon that article. the citizens of america, i believe, are not very fond of permitting forced and indirect explanations to be put upon matters of this kind. i know not what were the merits of the case with respect to the person who was prosecuted for acting as prize master to a french privateer, but i know that the jury gave a verdict against the prosecution. the rights i have acquired are dear to me. they have been acquired by honourable means, and by dangerous service in the worst of times, and i cannot passively permit them to be wrested from me. i conceive it my duty to defend them, as the case involves a constitutional and public question, which is, how far the power of the federal government ( ) extends, in depriving any citizen of his rights of citizenship, or of suspending them. that the explanation of national treaties belongs to congress is strictly constitutional; but not the explanation of the constitution itself, any more than the explanation of law in the case of individual citizens. these are altogether judiciary questions. it is, however, worth observing, that congress, in explaining the article of the treaty with respect to french prizes and french privateers, confined itself strictly to the letter of the article. let them explain the article of the constitution with respect to me in the same manner, and the decision, did it appertain to them, could not deprive me of my rights of citizenship, or suspend them, for i have accepted nothing from any king, prince, state, or government. you will please to observe, that i speak as if the federal government had made some declaration upon the subject of my citizenship; whereas the fact is otherwise; and your saying that you have no order respecting me is a proof of it. those therefore who propagate the report of my not being considered as a citizen of america by government, do it to the prolongation of my imprisonment, and without authority; for congress, _as a government_, has neither decided upon it, nor yet taken the matter into consideration; and i request you to caution such persons against spreading such reports. but be these matters as they may, i cannot have a doubt that you find and feel the case very different, since you have heard what i have to say, and known what my situation is [better] than you did before your arrival. in the pamphlet occurs here a significant parenthesis by bache: "it should have been said in this case, how far the executive."--_editor._. but it was not the americans only, but the convention also, that knew what my intentions were upon that subject. in my last discourse delivered at the tribune of the convention, january , , on the motion for suspending the execution of louis th, i said (the deputy bancal read the translation in french): "it unfortunately happens that the person who is the subject of the present discussion, is considered by the americans as having been the friend of their revolution. his execution will be an affliction to them, and it is in your power not to wound the feelings of your ally. could i speak the french language i would descend to your bar, and in their name become your petitioner to respite the execution of the sentence/"--"as the convention was elected for the express purpose of forming a constitution, its continuance cannot be longer than four or five months more at furthest; and if, after my _return to america_, i should employ myself in writing the history of the french revolution, i had rather record a thousand errors on the side of mercy, than be obliged to tell one act of severe justice."--"ah citizens! give not the tyrant of england the triumph of seeing the man perish on a scaffold who had aided my much-loved america." does this look as if i had abandoned america? but if she abandons me in the situation i am in, to gratify the enemies of humanity, let that disgrace be to herself. but i know the people of america better than to believe it,( ) tho' i undertake not to answer for every individual. when this discourse was pronounced, marat launched himself into the middle of the hall and said that "i voted against the punishment of death because i was a quaker." i replied that "i voted against it both morally and politically." in the french pamphlet: "pour jamais lui prêter du tels sentiments." i certainly went a great way, considering the rage of the times, in endeavouring to prevent that execution. i had many reasons for so doing. i judged, and events have shewn that i judged rightly, that if they once began shedding blood, there was no knowing where it would end; and as to what the world might call _honour_ the execution would appear like a nation killing a mouse; and in a political view, would serve to transfer the hereditary claim to some more formidable enemy. the man could do no more mischief; and that which he had done was not only from the vice of his education, but was as much the fault of the nation in restoring him after he had absconded june st, , as it was his. i made the proposal for imprisonment until the end of the war and perpetual banishment after the war, instead of the punishment of death. upwards of three hundred members voted for that proposal. the sentence for absolute death (for some members had voted the punishment of death conditionally) was carried by a majority of twenty-five out of more than seven hundred. i return from this digression to the proper subject of my memorial.( ) this and the preceding five paragraphs, and five following the nest, are omitted from the american pamphlet.-- _editor._. painful as the want of liberty may be, it is a consolation to me to believe, that my imprisonment proves to the world, that i had no share in the murderous system that then reigned. that i was an enemy to it, both morally and politically, is known to all who had any knowledge of me; and could i have written french as well as i can english, i would publicly have exposed its wickedness and shewn the ruin with which it was pregnant. they who have esteemed me on former occasions, whether in america or in europe will, i know, feel no cause to abate that esteem, when they reflect, that _imprisonment with preservation of character is preferable to liberty with disgrace_. i here close my memorial and proceed to offer you a proposal that appears to me suited to all the circumstances of the case; which is, that you reclaim me conditionally, until the opinion of congress can be obtained on the subject of my citizenship of america; and that i remain in liberty under your protection during that time. i found this proposal upon the following grounds. first, you say you have no orders respecting me; consequently, you have no orders _not_ to reclaim me; and in this case you are left discretionary judge whether to reclaim or not. my proposal therefore unites a consideration of your situation with my own. secondly, i am put in arrestation because i am a foreigner. it is therefore necessary to determine to what country i belong. the right of determining this question cannot appertain exclusively to the committee of public safety or general surety; because i appeal to the minister of the united states, and show that my citizenship of that country is good and valid, referring at the same time, thro' the agency of the minister, my claim of right to the opinion of congress. it being a matter between two governments. thirdly. france does not claim me fora citizen; neither do i set up any claim of citizenship in france. the question is simply, whether i am or am not a citizen of america. i am imprisoned here on the decree for imprisoning foreigners, because, say they, i was born in england. i say in answer that, though born in england, i am not a subject of the english government any more than any other american who was born, as they all were, under the same government, or than the citizens of france are subjects of the french monarchy under which they were born. i have twice taken the oath of abjuration to the british king and government and of allegiance to america,--once as a citizen of the state of pennsylvania in , and again before congress, administered to me by the president, mr. hancock, when i was appointed secretary in the office of foreign affairs in . the letter before quoted in the first page of this memorial, says, "it would be out of character for an american minister to interfere in the internal affairs of france." this goes on the idea that i am a citizen of france, and a member of the convention, which is not the fact. the convention have declared me to be a foreigner; and consequently the citizenship and the election are null and void.( ) it also has the appearance of a decision, that the article of the constitution, respecting grants made to american citizens by foreign kings, princes, or states, is applicable to me; which is the very point in question, and against the application of which i contend. i state evidence to the minister, to shew that i am not within the letter or meaning of that article; that it cannot operate against me; and i apply to him for the protection that i conceive i have a right to ask and to receive. the internal affairs of france are out of the question with respect to my application or his interference. i ask it not as a citizen of france, for i am not one: i ask it not as a member of the convention, for i am not one; both these, as before said, have been rendered null and void; i ask it not as a man against whom there is any accusation, for there is none; i ask it not as an exile from america, whose liberties i have honourably and generously contributed to establish; i ask it as a citizen of america, deprived of his liberty in france, under the plea of being a foreigner; and i ask it because i conceive i am entitled to it, upon every principle of constitutional justice and national honour.( ) in the pamphlet: "the convention included me in the vote for dismissing foreigners from the convention, and the committees imprisoned me as a foreigner."--_editor._ all previous editions of the pamphlet end with this word.--_editor._ but tho' i thus positively assert my claim because i believe i have a right to do so, it is perhaps most eligible, in the present situation of things, to put that claim upon the footing i have already mentioned; that is, that the minister reclaims me conditionally until the opinion of congress can be obtained on the subject of my citizenship of america, and that i remain in liberty under the protection of the minister during that interval. n. b. i should have added that as gouverneur morris could not inform congress of the cause of my arrestation, as he knew it not himself, it is to be supposed that congress was not enough acquainted with the case to give any directions respecting me when you came away. t.p. addenda. letters, hitherto unpublished, written by paine to monroe before his release on november ., . . luxembourg mem vendemaire, old style oct th dear sir: i thank you for your very friendly and affectionate letter of the th september which i did not receive till this morning.( ) it has relieved my mind from a load of disquietude. you will easily suppose that if the information i received had been exact, my situation was without hope. i had in that case neither section, department nor country, to reclaim me; but that is not all, i felt a poignancy of grief, in having the least reason to suppose that america had so soon forgotten me who had never forgotten her. mr. labonadaire, in a note of yesterday, directed me to write to the convention. as i suppose this measure has been taken in concert with you, i have requested him to shew you the letter, of which he will make a translation to accompany the original. (i cannot see what motive can induce them to keep me in prison. it will gratify the english government and afflict the friends i have in america. the supporters of the system of terror might apprehend that if i was in liberty and in america i should publish the history of their crimes, but the present persons who have overset that immoral system ought to have no such apprehension. on the contrary, they ought to consider me as one of themselves, at least as one of their friends. had i been an insignificant character i had not been in arrestation. it was the literary and philosophical reputation i had gained, in the world, that made them my enemies; and i am the victim of the principles, and if i may be permitted to say it, of the talents, that procured me the esteem of america. my character is the _secret_ of my arrestation.) printed in the letter to washington, chap. xxii. the delay of sixteen days in monroe's letter was probably due to the manouvres of paine's enemies on the committee of public safety. he was released only after their removal from the committee, and the departure of gouverneur morris.-- _editor._, if the letter i have written be not covered by other authority than my own it will have no effect, for they already know all that i can say. on what ground do they pretend to deprive america of the service of any of her citizens without assigning a cause, or only the flimsy one of my being born in england? gates, were he here, might be arrested on the same pretence, and he and burgoyne be confounded together. it is difficult for me to give an opinion, but among other things that occur to me, i think that if you were to say that, as it will be necessary to you to inform the government of america of my situation, you require an explanation with the committee upon that subject; that you are induced to make this proposal not only out of esteem for the character of the person who is the personal object of it, but because you know that his arrestation will distress the americans, and the more so as it will appear to them to be contrary to their ideas of civil and national justice, it might perhaps have some effect. if the committee [of public safety] will do nothing, it will be necessary to bring this matter openly before the convention, for i do most sincerely assure you, from the observations that i hear, and i suppose the same are made in other places, that the character of america lies under some reproach. all the world knows that i have served her, and they see that i am still in prison; and you know that when people can form a conclusion upon a simple fact, they trouble not themselves about reasons. i had rather that america cleared herself of all suspicion of ingratitude, though i were to be the victim. you advise me to have patience, but i am fully persuaded that the longer i continue in prison the more difficult will be my liberation. there are two reasons for this: the one is that the present committee, by continuing so long my imprisonment, will naturally suppose that my mind will be soured against them, as it was against those who put me in, and they will continue my imprisonment from the same apprehensions as the former committee did; the other reason is, that it is now about two months since your arrival, and i am still in prison. they will explain this into an indifference upon my fate that will encourage them to continue my imprisonment. when i hear some people say that it is the government of america that now keeps me in prison by not reclaiming me, and then pour forth a volley of execrations against her, i know not how to answer them otherwise than by a direct denial which they do not appear to believe. you will easily conclude that whatever relates to imprisonments and liberations makes a topic of prison conversation; and as i am now the oldest inhabitant within these walls, except two or three, i am often the subject of their remarks, because from the continuance of my imprisonment they auger ill to themselves. you see i write you every thing that occurs to me, and i conclude with thanking you again for your very friendly and affectionate letter, and am with great respect, your's affectionately, thomas paine. (to day is the anniversary of the action at german town. [october , .] your letter has enabled me to contradict the observations before mentioned.) . oct , dear sir: on the th of this month (october) i shall have suffered ten months imprisonment, to the dishonour of america as well as of myself, and i speak to you very honestly when i say that my patience is exhausted. it is only my actual liberation that can make me believe it. had any person told me that i should remain in prison two months after the arrival of a new minister, i should have supposed that he meant to affront me as an american. by the friendship and sympathy you express in your letter you seem to consider my imprisonment as having connection only with myself, but i am certain that the inferences that follow from it have relation also to the national character of america, i already feel this in myself, for i no longer speak with pride of being a citizen of that country. is it possible sir that i should, when i am suffering unjust imprisonment under the very eye of her new minister? while there was no minister here (for i consider morris as none) nobody wondered at my imprisonment, but now everybody wonders. the continuance of it under a change of diplomatic circumstances, subjects me to the suspicion of having merited it, and also to the suspicion of having forfeited my reputation with america; and it subjects her at the same time to the suspicion of ingratitude, or to the reproach of wanting national or diplomatic importance. the language that some americans have held of my not being considered as an american citizen, tho' contradicted by yourself, proceeds, i believe, from no other motive, than the shame and dishonour they feel at the imprisonment of a fellow-citizen, and they adopt this apology, at my expence, to get rid of that disgrace. is it not enough that i suffer imprisonment, but my mind also must be wounded and tortured with subjects of this kind? did i reason from personal considerations only, independent of principles and the pride of having practiced those principles honourably, i should be tempted to curse the day i knew america. by contributing to her liberty i have lost my own, and yet her government beholds my situation in silence. wonder not, sir, at the ideas i express or the language in which i express them. if i have a heart to feel for others i can feel also for myself, and if i have anxiety for my own honour, i have it also for a country whose suffering infancy i endeavoured to nourish and to which i have been enthusiastically attached. as to patience i have practiced it long--as long as it was honorable to do so, and when it goes beyond that point it becomes meanness. i am inclined to believe that you have attended to my imprisonment more as a friend than as a minister. as a friend i thank you for your affectionate attachment. as a minister you have to look beyond me to the honour and reputation of your government; and your countrymen, who have accustomed themselves to consider any subject in one line of thinking only, more especially if it makes a strong [impression] upon them, as i believe my situation has made upon you, do not immediately see the matters that have relation to it in another line; and it is to bring these two into one point that i offer you these observations. a citizen and his country, in a case like mine, are so closely connected that the case of one is the case of both. when you first arrived the path you had to pursue with respect to my liberation was simple. i was imprisoned as a foreigner; you knew that foreigner to be a citizen of america, and you knew also his character, and as such you should immediately have reclaimed him. you could lose nothing by taking strong ground, but you might lose much by taking an inferior one; but instead of this, which i conceive would have been the right line of acting, you left me in their hands on the loose intimation that my liberation would take place without your direct interference, and you strongly recommended it to me to wait the issue. this is more than seven weeks ago and i am still in prison. i suspect these people are trifling with you, and if they once believe they can do that, you will not easily get any business done except what they wish to have done. when i take a review of my whole situation--my circumstances ruined, my health half destroyed, my person imprisoned, and the prospect of imprisonment still staring me in the face, can you wonder at the agony of my feelings? you lie down in safety and rise to plenty; it is otherwise with me; i am deprived of more than half the common necessaries of life; i have not a candle to burn and cannot get one. fuel can be procured only in small quantities and that with great difficulty and very dear, and to add to the rest, i am fallen into a relapse and am again on the sick list. did you feel the whole force of what i suffer, and the disgrace put upon america by this injustice done to one of her best and most affectionate citizens, you would not, either as a friend or minister, rest a day till you had procured my liberation. it is the work of two or three hours when you set heartily about it, that is, when you demand me as an american citizen, or propose a conference with the committee upon that subject; or you may make it the work of a twelve-month and not succeed. i know these people better than you do. you desire me to believe that "you are placed here on a difficult theatre with many important objects to attend to, and with but few to consult with, and that it becomes you in pursuit of these to regulate your conduct with respect to each, as to manner and time, as will in your judgment be best calculated to accomplish the whole." as i know not what these objects are i can say nothing to that point. but i have always been taught to believe that the liberty of a citizen was the first object of all free governments, and that it ought not to give preference to, or be blended with, any other. it is that public object that all the world can see, and which obtains an influence upon public opinion more than any other. this is not the case with the objects you allude to. but be those objects what they may, can you suppose you will accomplish them the easier by holding me in the back-ground, or making me only an accident in the negotiation? those with whom you confer will conclude from thence that you do not feel yourself very strong upon those points, and that you politically keep me out of sight in the meantime to make your approach the easier. there is one part in your letter that is equally as proper should be communicated to the committee as to me, and which i conceive you are under some diplomatic obligation to do. it is that part which you conclude by saying that "_to the welfare of thomas paine the americans are not and cannot be indifferent_." as it is impossible the americans can preserve their esteem for me and for my oppressors at the same time, the injustice to me strikes at the popular part of the treaty of alliance. if it be the wish of the committee to reduce the treaty to a mere skeleton of government forms, they are taking the right method to do it, and it is not improbable they will blame you afterwards for not in-forming them upon the subject. the disposition to retort has been so notorious here, that you ought to be guarded against it at all points. you say in your letter that you doubt whether the gentleman who informed me of the language held by some americans respecting my citizenship of america conveyed even his own ideas clearly upon the subject.( ) i know not how this may be, but i believe he told me the truth. i received a letter a few days ago from a friend and former comrade of mine in which he tells me, that all the americans he converses with, say, that i should have been in liberty long ago if the minister could have reclaimed me as an american citizen. when i compare this with the counter-declarations in your letter i can explain the case no otherwise than i have already done, that it is an apology to get rid of the shame and dishonour they feel at the imprisonment of an american citizen, and because they are not willing it should be supposed there is want of influence in the american embassy. but they ought to see that this language is injurious to me. on the d of this month vendemaire i received a line from mr. beresford in which he tells me i shall be in liberty in two or three days, and that he has this from good authority. on the th i received a note from mr. labonadaire, written at the bureau of the concierge, in which he tells me of the interest you take in procuring my liberation, and that after the steps that had been already taken that i ought to write to the convention to demand my liberty _purely and simply_ as a citizen of the united states of america. he advised me to send the letter to him, and he would translate it. i sent the letter inclosing at the same time a letter to you. i have heard nothing since of the letter to the convention. on the th i received a letter from my former comrade vanhuele, in which he says "i am just come from mr. russell who had yesterday a conversation with your minister and your liberation is certain--you will be in liberty to-morrow." vanhuele also adds, "i find the advice of mr. labonadaire good, for tho' you have some enemies in the convention, the strongest and best part are in your favour." but the case is, and i felt it whilst i was writing the letter to the convention, that there is an awkwardness in my appearing, you being present; for every foreigner should apply thro' his minister, or rather his minister for him. the letter of peter whiteside, quoted at the beginning of the memorial. see introduction to the memorial. it would seem from this whole letter that it was not known by americans in paris that monroe had been kept ont of his office by morris for nearly a month after his arrival in paris.--_editor._ when i thus see day after day and month after month, and promise after promise, pass away without effect, what can i conclude but that either the committees are secretly determined not to let me go, or that the measures you take are not pursued with the vigor necessary to give them effect; or that the american national character is without sufficient importance in the french republic? the latter will be gratifying to the english government. in short, sir, the case is now arrived to that crisis, that for the sake of your own reputation as a minister you ought to require a positive answer from the committee. as to myself, it is more agreeable to me now to contemplate an honourable destruction, and to perish in the act of protesting against the injustice i suffer, and to caution the people of america against confiding too much in the treaty of alliance, violated as it has been in every principle, and in my imprisonment though an american citizen, than remain in the wretched condition i am. i am no longer of any use to the world or to myself. there was a time when i beheld the revolution of the th. thermidor [the fall of robespierre] with enthusiasm. it was the first news my comrade vanhuele communicated to me during my illness, and it contributed to my recovery. but there is still something rotten at the center, and the enemies that i have, though perhaps not numerous, are more active than my friends. if i form a wrong opinion of men or things it is to you i must look to set me right. you are in possession of the secret. i know nothing of it. but that i may be guarded against as many wants as possible i shall set about writing a memorial to congress, another to the state of pennsylvania, and an address to the people of america; but it will be difficult for me to finish these until i know from yourself what applications you have made for my liberation, and what answers you have received. ah, sir, you would have gotten a load of trouble and difficulties off your hands that i fear will multiply every day, had you made it a point to procure my liberty when you first arrived, and not left me floating on the promises of men whom you did not know. you were then a new character. you had come in consequence of their own request that morris should be recalled; and had you then, before you opened any subject of negociation that might arise into controversy, demanded my liberty either as a civility or as a right i see not how they could have refused it. i have already said that after all the promises that have been made i am still in prison. i am in the dark upon all the matters that relate to myself. i know not if it be to the convention, to the committee of public safety, of general surety, or to the deputies who come sometimes to the luxembourg to examine and put persons in liberty, that applications have been made for my liberation. but be it to whom it may, my earnest and pressing request to you as minister is that you will bring this matter to a conclusion by reclaiming me as an american citizen imprisoned in france under the plea of being a foreigner born in england; that i may know the result, and how to prepare the memorials i have mentioned, should there be occasion for them. the right of determining who are american citizens can belong only to america. the convention have declared i am not a french citizen because she has declared me to be a foreigner, and have by that declaration cancelled and annulled the vote of the former assembly that conferred the title of citizen upon citizens or subjects of other countries. i should not be honest to you nor to myself were i not to express myself as i have done in this letter, and i confide and request you will accept it in that sense and in no other. i am, with great respect, your suffering fellow-citizen, thomas paine. p. s.--if my imprisonment is to continue, and i indulge very little hope to the contrary, i shall be under the absolute necessity of applying to you for a supply of several articles. every person here have their families or friends upon the spot who make provision for them. this is not the case with me; i have no person i can apply to but the american minister, and i can have no doubt that if events should prevent my repaying the expence congress or the state of pennsylvania will discharge it for me. to day is vendemaire monday october , but you will not receive this letter till the th. i will send the bearer to you again on the th, wednesday, and i will be obliged to you to send me for the present, three or four candles, a little sugar of any kind, and some soap for shaving; and i should be glad at the same time to receive a line from you and a memorandum of the articles. were i in your place i would order a hogshead of sugar, some boxes of candles and soap from america, for they will become still more scarce. perhaps the best method for you to procure them at present is by applying to the american consuls at bordeaux and havre, and have them up by the diligence. . [undated.] dear sir: as i have not yet received any answer to my last, i have amused myself with writing you the inclosed memoranda. though you recommend patience to me i cannot but feel very pointedly the uncomfortableness of my situation, and among other reflections that occur to me i cannot think that america receives any credit from the long imprisonment that i suffer. it has the appearance of neglecting her citizens and her friends and of encouraging the insults of foreign nations upon them, and upon her commerce. my imprisonment is as well and perhaps more known in england than in france, and they (the english) will not be intimidated from molesting an american ship when they see that one of her best citizens (for i have a right to call myself so) can be imprisoned in another country at the mere discretion of a committee, because he is a foreigner. when you first arrived every body congratulated me that i should soon, if not immediately, be in liberty. since that time about two hundred have been set free from this prison on the applications of their sections or of individuals--and i am continually hurt by the observations that are made--"that a section in paris has more influence than america." it is right that i furnish you with these circumstances. it is the effect of my anxiety that the character of america suffer no reproach; for the world knows that i have acted a generous duty by her. i am the third american that has been imprisoned. griffiths nine weeks, haskins about five, and myself eight [months] and yet in prison. with respect to the two former there was then no minister, for i consider morris as none; and they were liberated on the applications of the americans in paris. as to myself i had rather be publicly and honorably reclaimed, tho' the reclamation was refused, than remain in the uncertain situation that i am. though my health has suffered my spirits are not broken. i have nothing to fear unless innocence and fortitude be crimes. america, whatever may be my fate, will have no cause to blush for me as a citizen; i hope i shall have none to blush for her as a country. if, my dear sir, there is any-thing in the perplexity of ideas i have mistaken, only suppose yourself in my situation, and you will easily find an excuse for it. i need not say how much i shall rejoice to pay my respects to you without-side the walls of this prison, and to enquire after my american friends. but i know that nothing can be accomplished here but by unceasing perseverance and application. yours affectionately. . october , . dear sir: i recd. your friendly letter of the vendemaire on the day it was written, and i thank you for communicating to me your opinion upon my case. ideas serve to beget ideas, and as it is from a review of every thing that can be said upon a subject, or is any ways connected with it, that the best judgment can be formed how to proceed, i present you with such ideas as occur to me. i am sure of one thing, which is that you will give them a patient and attentive perusal. you say in your letter that "i must be sensible that although i am an american citizen, yet if you interfere in my behalf as the minister of my country you must demand my liberation only in case there be no charge against me; and that if there is i must be brought to trial previously, since no person in a _private_ character can be exempt from the laws of the country in which he resides."--this is what i have twice attempted to do. i wrote a letter on the d sans culottodi( ) to the deputies, members of the committee of surety general, who came to the luxembourg to examine the persons detained. the letter was as follows:--"citizens representatives: i offer myself for examination. justice is due to every man. it is justice only that i ask.--thomas paine." as i was not called for examination, nor heard anything in consequence of my letter the first time of sending it, i sent a duplicate of it a few days after. it was carried to them by my good friend and comrade vanhuele, who was then going in liberty, having been examined the day before. vanhuele wrote me on the next day and said: "bourdon de l'oise [who was one of the examining deputies] is the most inveterate enemy you can have. the answer he gave me when i presented your letter put me in such a passion with him that i expected i should be sent back again to prison." i then wrote a third letter but had not an opportunity of sending it, as bourdon did not come any more till after i received mr. labonadaire's letter advising me to write to the convention. the letter was as follows:--"citizens, i have twice offered myself for examination, and i chose to do this while bourdon de l'oise was one of the commissioners. festival of labour, september , .--_editor._. this deputy has said in the convention that i intrigued with an ancient agent of the bureau of foreign affairs. my examination therefore while he is present will give him an opportunity of proving his charge or of convincing himself of his error. if bourdon de l'oise is an honest man he will examine me, but lest he should not i subjoin the following. that which b[ourdon] calls an intrigue was at the request of a member of the former committee of salut public, last august was a twelvemonth. i met the member on the boulevard. he asked me something in french which i did not understand and we went together to the bureau of foreign affairs which was near at hand. the agent (otto, whom you probably knew in america) served as interpreter, the member (it was barère) then asked me st, if i could furnish him with the plan of constitution i had presented to the committee of constitution of which i was member with himself, because, he said, it contained several things which he wished had been adopted: dly, he asked me my opinion upon sending commissioners to the united states of america: dly, if fifty or an hundred ship loads of flour could be procured from america. as verbal interpretation was tedious, it was agreed that i should give him my opinion in writing, and that the agent [otto] should translate it, which he did. i answered the first question by sending him the plan [of a constitution] which he still has. to the second, i replied that i thought it would be proper to send commissioners, because that in revolutions circumstances change so fast that it was often necessary to send a better supply of information to an ally than could be communicated by writing; and that congress had done the same thing during the american war; and i gave him some information that the commissioners would find useful on their arrival. i answered the third question by sending him a list of american exports two years before, distinguishing the several articles by which he would see that the supply he mentioned could be obtained. i sent him also the plan of paul jones, giving it as his, for procuring salt-petre, which was to send a squadron (it did not require a large one) to take possession of the island of st. helen's, to keep the english flag flying at the port, that the english east india ships coming from the east indies, and that ballast with salt-petre, might be induced to enter as usual; and that it would be a considerable time before the english government could know of what had happened at st. helen's. see here what bourdon de l'oise has called an intrigue.--if it was an intrigue it was between a committee of salut public and myself, for the agent was no more than the interpreter and translator, and the object of the intrigue was to furnish france with flour and salt-petre."--i suppose bourdon had heard that the agent and i were seen together talking english, and this was enough for _him_ to found his charge upon.( ) you next say that "i must likewise be sensible that although i am an american citizen that it is likewise believed there [in america] that i am become a citizen of france, and that in consequence this latter character has so far [illegible] the former as to weaken if not destroy any claim you might have to interpose in my behalf." i am sorry i cannot add any new arguments to those i have already advanced on this part of the subject. but i cannot help asking myself, and i wish you would ask the committee, if it could possibly be the intention of france to _kidnap_ citizens from america under the pretence of dubbing them with the title of french citizens, and then, after inviting or rather enveigling them into france, make it a pretence for detaining them? if it was, (which i am sure it was not, tho' they now act as if it was) the insult was to america, tho' the injury was to me, and the treachery was to both. the communications of paine to barère are given in my "life of paine," vol. ii-i pp. , . otto was secretary to the minister of foreign affairs when he acted as interpreter between paine and barère. there was never any charge at all made against paine, as the archives of france now prove, save that he was a "foreigner." paine was of coarse ignorant of the conspiracy between morris and deforgues which had imprisoned him. bourdon de l'oise, one of the most cruel jacobins and terrorists, afterwards conspired with pichegru to overthrow the republic, and was with him banished ( ) to sinamari, south america, where he died soon after his arrival.--_editor._. did they mean to kidnap general washington, mr. madison, and several other americans whom they dubbed with the same title as well as me? let any man look at the condition of france when i arrived in it,--invaded by austrians and prussians and declared to be in danger,--and then ask if any man who had a home and a country to go to, as i had in america, would have come amongst them from any other motive than of assisting them. if i could possibly have supposed them capable of treachery i certainly would not have trusted myself in their power. instead therefore of your being unwilling or apprehensive of meeting the question of french citizenship, they ought to be ashamed of advancing it, and this will be the case unless you admit their arguments or objections too passively. it is a case on their part fit only for the continuations of robespierre to set up. as to the name of french citizen, i never considered it in any other light, so far as regarded myself, than as a token of honorary respect. i never made them any promise nor took any oath of allegiance or of citizenship, nor bound myself by an act or means whatever to the performance of any thing. i acted altogether as a friend invited among them as i supposed on honorable terms. i did not come to join myself to a government already formed, but to assist in forming one _de nouveau_, which was afterwards to be submitted to the people whether they would accept it or not, and this any foreigner might do. and strictly speaking there are no citizens before this is a government. they are all of the people. the americans were not called citizens till after government was established, and not even then until they had taken the oath of allegiance. this was the case in pennsylvania. but be this french citizenship more or less, the convention have swept it away by declaring me to be a foreigner, and imprisoning me as such; and this is a short answer to all those who affect to say or to believe that i am french citizen. a citizen without citizenship is a term non-descript. after the two preceeding paragraphs you ask--"if it be my wish that you should embark in this controversy (meaning that of reclaiming me) and risque the consequences with respect to myself and the good understanding subsisting between the two countries, or, without relinquishing any point of right, and which might be insisted on in case of extremities, pursue according to your best judgment and with the light before you, the object of my liberation?" as i believe from the apparent obstinacy of the committees that circumstances will grow towards the extremity you mention, unless prevented beforehand, i will endeavour to throw into your hands all the lights i can upon the subject. in the first place, reclamation may mean two distinct things. all the reclamations that are made by the sections in behalf of persons detained as _suspect_ are made on the ground that the persons so detained are patriots, and the reclamation is good against the charge of "suspect" because it proves the contrary. but my situation includes another circumstance. i am imprisoned on the charge (if it can be called one) of being a foreigner born in england. you know that foreigner to be a citizen of the united states of america, and that he has been such since the th of july , the political birthday of the united states, and of every american citizen, for before that period all were british subjects, and the states, then provinces, were british dominions.--your reclamation of me therefore as a citizen of the united states (all other considerations apart) is good against the pretence for imprisoning me, or that pretence is equally good against every american citizen born in england, ireland, scotland, germany, or holland, and you know this description of men compose a very great part of the population of the three states of new york, new jersey, and pennsylvania, and make also a part of congress, and of the state legislatures. every politician ought to know, and every civilian does know, that the law of treaty of alliance, and also that of amity and commerce knows no distinction of american citizens on account of the place of their birth, but recognizes all to be citizens whom the constitution and laws of the united states of america recognize as such; and if i recollect rightly there is an article in the treaty of commerce particular to this point. the law therefore which they have here, to put all persons in arrestation born in any of the countries at war with france, is, when applied to citizens of america born in england, ireland, scotland, germany, or holland, a violation of the treaties of alliance and of commerce, because it assumes to make a distinction of citizens which those treaties and the constitution of america know nothing of. this is a subject that officially comes under your cognizance as minister, and it would be consistent that you expostulated with them upon the case. that foolish old man vadier, who was president of the convention and of the committee of surety general when the americans then in paris went to the bar of the convention to reclaim me, gave them for answer that my being born in england was cause sufficient for imprisoning me. it happened that at least half those who went up with that address were in the same case with myself. as to reclamations on the ground of patriotism it is difficult to know what is to be understood by patriotism here. there is not a vice, and scarcely a virtue, that has not as the fashion of the moment suited been called by the name of patriotism. the wretches who composed the revolutionary tribunal of nantz were the patriots of that day and the criminals of this. the jacobins called themselves patriots of the first order, men up to the height of the circumstances, and they are now considered as an antidote to patriotism. but if we give to patriotism a fixed idea consistent with that of a republic, it would signify a strict adherence to the principles of moral justice, to the equality of civil and political rights, to the system of representative government, and an opposition to every hereditary claim to govern; and of this species of patriotism you know my character. but, sir, there are men on the committee who have changed their party but not their principles. their aim is to hold power as long as possible by preventing the establishment of a constitution, and these men are and will be my enemies, and seek to hold me in prison as long as they can. i am too good a patriot for them. it is not improbable that they have heard of the strange language held by some americans that i am not considered in america as an american citizen, and they may also have heard say, that you had no orders respecting me, and it is not improbable that they interpret that language and that silence into a connivance at my imprisonment. if they had not some ideas of this kind would they resist so long the civil efforts you make for my liberation, or would they attach so much importance to the imprisonment of an individual as _to risque_ (as you say to me) _the good understanding that exists between the two countries?_you also say that _it is impossible for any person to do more than you have done without adopting the other means_, meaning that of reclaiming me. how then can you account for the want of success after so many efforts, and such a length of time, upwards of ten weeks, without supposing that they fortify themselves in the interpretation i have just mentioned? i can admit that it was not necessary to give orders, and that it was difficult to give direct orders, for i much question if morris had informed congress or the president of the whole of the case, or had sent copies of my letters to him as i had desired him to do. you would find the case here when you came, and you could not fully understand it till you did come, and as minister you would have authority to act upon it. but as you inform me that you know what the wishes of the president are, you will see also that his reputation is exposed to some risque, admitting there to be ground for the supposition i have made. it will not add to his popularity to have it believed in america, as i am inclined to think the committee believe here, that he connives at my imprisonment. you say also that _it is known to everybody that you wish my liberation_. it is, sir, because they know your wishes that they misinterpret the means you use. they suppose that those mild means arise from a restriction that you cannot use others, or from a consciousness of some defect on my part of which you are unwilling to provoke the enquiry. but as you ask me if it be my wish that you should embark in this controversy and risque the consequences with respect to myself, i will answer this part of the question by marking out precisely the part i wish you to take. what i mean is a sort of middle line above what you have yet gone, and not up to the full extremity of the case, which will still lie in reserve. it is to write a letter to the committee that shall in the first place defeat by anticipation all the objections they might make to a simple reclamation, and at the same time make the ground good for that object. but, instead of sending the letter immediately, to invite some of the committee to your house and to make that invitation the opportunity of shewing them the letter, expressing at the same time a wish that you had done this, from a hope that the business might be settled in an amicable manner without your being forced into an official interference, that would excite the observations of the enemies of both countries, and probably interrupt the harmony that subsisted between the two republics. but as i can not convey the ideas i wish you to use by any means so concisely or so well as to suppose myself the writer of the letter i shall adopt this method and you will make use of such parts or such ideas of it as you please if you approve the plan. here follows the supposed letter: citizens: when i first arrived amongst you as minister from the united states of america i was given to understand that the liberation of thomas paine would take place without any official interference on my part. this was the more agreeable to me as it would not only supercede the necessity of that interference, but would leave to yourselves the whole opportunity of doing justice to a man who as far as i have been able to learn has suffered much cruel treatment under what you have denominated the system of terror. but as i find my expectations have not been fulfilled i am under the official necessity of being more explicit upon the subject than i have hitherto been. permit me, in the first place, to observe that as it is impossible for me to suppose that it could have been the intention of france to seduce any citizens of america from their allegiance to their proper country by offering them the title of french citizen, so must i be compelled to believe, that the title of french citizen conferred on thomas paine was intended only as a mark of honorary respect towards a man who had so eminently distinguished himself in defence of liberty, and on no occasion more so than in promoting and defending your own revolution. for a proof of this i refer you to his two works entitled _rights of man_. those works have procured to him an addition of esteem in america, and i am sorry they have been so ill rewarded in france. but be this title of french citizen more or less, it is now entirely swept away by the vote of the convention which declares him to be a foreigner, and which supercedes the vote of the assembly that conferred that title upon him, consequently upon the case superceded with it. in consequence of this vote of the convention declaring him to be a foreigner the former committees have imprisoned him. it is therefore become my official duty to declare to you that the foreigner thus imprisoned is a citizen of the united states of america as fully, as legally, as constitutionally as myself, and that he is moreover one of the principal founders of the american republic. i have been informed of a law or decree of the convention which subjects foreigners born in any of the countries at war with france to arrestation and imprisonment. this law when applied to citizens of america born in england is an infraction of the treaty of alliance and of amity and commerce, which knows no distinction of american citizens on account of the place of their birth, but recognizes all to be citizens whom the constitution and laws of america recognize as such. the circumstances under which america has been peopled requires this guard on her treaties, because the mass of her citizens are composed not of natives only but also of the natives of almost all the countries of europe who have sought an asylum there from the persecutions they experienced in their own countries. after this intimation you will without doubt see the propriety of modelling that law to the principles of the treaty, because the law of treaty in cases where it applies is the governing law to both parties alike, and it cannot be infracted without hazarding the existence of the treaty. of the patriotism of thomas paine i can speak fully, if we agree to give to patriotism a fixed idea consistent with that of a republic. it would then signify a strict adherence to moral justice, to the equality of civil and political rights, to the system of representative government, and an opposition to all hereditary claims to govern. admitting patriotism to consist in these principles, i know of no man who has gone beyond thomas paine in promulgating and defending them, and that for almost twenty years past. i have now spoken to you on the principal matters concerned in the case of thomas paine. the title of french citizen which you had enforced upon him, you have since taken away by declaring him to be a foreigner, and consequently this part of the subject ceases of itself. i have declared to you that this foreigner is a citizen of the united states of america, and have assured you of his patriotism. i cannot help at the same time repeating to you my wish that his liberation had taken place without my being obliged to go thus far into the subject, because it is the mutual interest of both republics to avoid as much as possible all subjects of controversy, especially those from which no possible good can flow. i still hope that you will save me the unpleasant task of proceeding any farther by sending me an order for his liberation, which the injured state of his health absolutely requires. i shall be happy to receive such an order from you and happy in presenting it to him, for to the welfare of thomas paine the americans are not and cannot be indifferent. this is the sort of letter i wish you to write, for i have no idea that you will succeed by any measures that can, by any kind of construction, be interpreted into a want of confidence or an apprehension of consequences. it is themselves that ought to be apprehensive of consequences if any are to be apprehended. they, i mean the committees, are not certain that the convention or the nation would support them in forcing any question to extremity that might interrupt the good understanding subsisting between the two countries; and i know of no question [so likely] to do this as that which involves the rights and liberty of a citizen. you will please to observe that i have put the case of french citizenship in a point of view that ought not only to preclude, but to make them ashamed to advance any thing upon this subject; and this is better than to have to answer their counter-reclamation afterwards. either the citizenship was intended as a token of honorary respect, or it was in-tended to deprive america of a citizen or to seduce him from his allegiance to his proper country. if it was intended as an honour they must act consistently with the principle of honour. but if they make a pretence for detaining me, they convict themselves of the act of seduction. had america singled out any particular french citizen, complimented him with the title of citizen of america, which he without suspecting any fraudulent intention might accept, and then after having invited or rather inveigled him into america made his acceptance of that title a pretence for seducing or forcing him from his allegiance to france, would not france have just cause to be offended at america? and ought not america to have the same right to be offended at france? and will the committees take upon themselves to answer for the dishonour they bring upon the national character of their country? if these arguments are stated beforehand they will prevent the committees going into the subject of french citizenship. they must be ashamed of it. but after all the case comes to this, that this french citizenship appertains no longer to me because the convention, as i have already said, have swept it away by declaring me to be foreigner, and it is not in the power of the committees to reverse it. but if i am to be citizen and foreigner, and citizen again, just when and how and for any purpose they please, they take the government of america into their own hands and make her only a cypher in their system. though these ideas have been long with me they have been more particularly matured by reading your last communication, and i have many reasons to wish you had opened that communication sooner. i am best acquainted with the persons you have to deal with and the circumstances of my own case. if you chuse to adopt the letter as it is, i send you a translation for the sake of expediting the business. i have endeavoured to conceive your own manner of expression as well as i could, and the civility of language you would use, but the matter of the letter is essential to me. if you chuse to confer with some of the members of the committee at your own house on the subject of the letter it may render the sending it unnecessary; but in either case i must request and press you not to give away to evasion and delay, and that you will fix positively with them that they shall give you an answer in three or four days whether they will liberate me on the representation you have made in the letter, or whether you must be forced to go further into the subject. the state of my health will not admit of delay, and besides the tortured state of my mind wears me down. if they talk of bringing me to trial (and i well know there is no accusation against me and that they can bring none) i certainly summons you as an evidence to my character. this you may mention to them either as what i intend to do or what you intend to do voluntarily for me. i am anxious that you undertake this business without losing time, because if i am not liberated in the course of this decade, i intend, if in case the seventy-one detained deputies are liberated, to follow the same track that they have done, and publish my own case myself.( ) i cannot rest any longer in this state of miserable suspense, be the consequences what they may. thomas paine. those deputies, imprisoned for having protested against the overthrow of the girondin government, may , , when the convention was invaded and overawed by the armed communes of paris. these deputies were liberated and recalled to the convention, december , . paine was invited to resume his seat the day before, by a special act of the convention, after an eloquent speech by thibaudeau.-- _editor._. dear sir: i need not mention to you the happiness i received from the information you sent me by mr. beresford. i easily guess the persons you have conversed with on the subject of my liberation--but matters and even promises that pass in conversation are not quite so strictly attended to here as in the country you come from. i am not, my dear sir, impatient from any thing in my disposition, but the state of my health requires liberty and a better air; and besides this, the rules of the prison do not permit me, though i have all the indulgences the concierge can give, to procure the things necessary to my recovery, which is slow as to strength. i have a tolerable appetite but the allowance of provision is scanty. we are not allowed a knife to cut our victuals with, nor a razor to shave; but they have lately allowed some barbers that are here to shave. the room where i am lodged is a ground floor level with the earth in the garden and floored with brick, and is so wet after every rain that i cannot guard against taking colds that continually cheat my recovery. if you could, without interfering with or deranging the mode proposed for my liberation, inform the committee that the state of my health requires liberty and air, it would be good ground to hasten my liberation. the length of my imprisonment is also a reason, for i am now almost the oldest inhabitant of this uncomfortable mansion, and i see twenty, thirty and sometimes forty persons a day put in liberty who have not been so long confined as myself. their liberation is a happiness to me; but i feel sometimes, a little mortification that i am thus left behind. i leave it entirely to you to arrange this matter. the messenger waits. your's affectionately, t. p. i hope and wish much to see you. i have much to say. i have had the attendance of dr. graham (physician to genl. o'hara, who is prisoner here) and of dr. makouski, house physician, who has been most exceedingly kind to me. after i am at liberty i shall be glad to introduce him to you. this letter, written in a feeble handwriting, is not dated, but monroe's endorsement, " d. luxembourg," indicates november , two days before paine's liberation.-- _editor._. xxii. letter to george washington. paris, july , . as censure is but awkwardly softened by apology. i shall offer you no apology for this letter. the eventful crisis to which your double politics have conducted the affairs of your country, requires an investigation uncramped by ceremony. there was a time when the fame of america, moral and political, stood fair and high in the world. the lustre of her revolution extended itself to every individual; and to be a citizen of america gave a title to respect in europe. neither meanness nor ingratitude had been mingled in the composition of her character. her resistance to the attempted tyranny of england left her unsuspected of the one, and her open acknowledgment of the aid she received from france precluded all suspicion of the other. the washington of politics had not then appeared. at the time i left america (april ) the continental convention, that formed the federal constitution was on the point of meeting. since that time new schemes of politics, and new distinctions of parties, have arisen. the term _antifederalist_ has been applied to all those who combated the defects of that constitution, or opposed the measures of your administration. it was only to the absolute necessity of establishing some federal authority, extending equally over all the states, that an instrument so inconsistent as the present federal constitution is, obtained a suffrage. i would have voted for it myself, had i been in america, or even for a worse, rather than have had none, provided it contained the means of remedying its defects by the same appeal to the people by which it was to be established. it is always better policy to leave removeable errors to expose themselves, than to hazard too much in contending against them theoretically. i have introduced these observations, not only to mark the general difference between antifederalist and anti-constitutionalist, but to preclude the effect, and even the application, of the former of these terms to myself. i declare myself opposed to several matters in the constitution, particularly to the manner in which what is called the executive is formed, and to the long duration of the senate; and if i live to return to america, i will use all my endeavours to have them altered.(*) i also declare myself opposed to almost the whole of your administration; for i know it to have been deceitful, if not perfidious, as i shall shew in the course of this letter. but as to the point of consolidating the states into a federal government, it so happens, that the proposition for that purpose came originally from myself. i proposed it in a letter to chancellor livingston in the spring of , while that gentleman was minister for foreign affairs. the five per cent, duty recommended by congress had then fallen through, having been adopted by some of the states, altered by others, rejected by rhode island, and repealed by virginia after it had been consented to. the proposal in the letter i allude to, was to get over the whole difficulty at once, by annexing a continental legislative body to congress; for in order to have any law of the union uniform, the case could only be, that either congress, as it then stood, must frame the law, and the states severally adopt it without alteration, or the states must erect a continental legislature for the purpose. chancellor livingston, robert morris, gouverneur morris, and myself, had a meeting at the house of robert morris on the subject of that letter. there was no diversity of opinion on the proposition for a continental legislature: the only difficulty was on the manner of bringing the proposition forward. for my own part, as i considered it as a remedy in reserve, that could be applied at any time _when the states saw themselves wrong enough to be put right_, (which did not appear to be the case at that time) i did not see the propriety of urging it precipitately, and declined being the publisher of it myself. after this account of a fact, the leaders of your party will scarcely have the hardiness to apply to me the term of antifederalist. but i can go to a date and to a fact beyond this; for the proposition for electing a continental convention to form the continental government is one of the subjects treated of in the pamphlet _common sense_.( ) * i have always been opposed to the mode of refining government up to an individual, or what is called a single executive. such a man will always be the chief of a party. a plurality is far better: it combines the mass of a nation better together: and besides this, it is necessary to the manly mind of a republic that it loses the debasing idea of obeying an individual.--_author_. see vol. i. of this work, pp. , , , no.--_editor._. having thus cleared away a little of the rubbish that might otherwise have lain in my way, i return to the point of time at which the present federal constitution and your administration began. it was very well said by an anonymous writer in philadelphia, about a year before that period, that "_thirteen staves and ne'er a hoop will not make a barrel_" and as any kind of hooping the barrel, however defectively executed, would be better than none, it was scarcely possible but that considerable advantages must arise from the federal hooping of the states. it was with pleasure that every sincere friend of america beheld, as the natural effect of union, her rising prosperity; and it was with grief they saw that prosperity mixed, even in the blossom, with the germ of corruption. monopolies of every kind marked your administration almost in the moment of its commencement. the lands obtained by the revolution were lavished upon partisans; the interest of the disbanded soldier was sold to the speculator; injustice was acted under the pretence of faith; and the chief of the army became the patron of the fraud.( ) from such a beginning what else could be expected, than what has happened? a mean and servile submission to the insults of one nation; treachery and ingratitude to another. the history of the scioto company, by which so many frenchmen as well as americans were ruined, warranted an even stronger statement. though washington did not know what was going on, he cannot be acquitted of a lack of due precaution in patronizing leading agents of these speculations, and introducing them in france.--_editor._ some vices make their approach with such a splendid appearance, that we scarcely know to what class of moral distinctions they belong. they are rather virtues corrupted than vices, originally. but meanness and ingratitude have nothing equivocal in their character. there is not a trait in them that renders them doubtful. they are so originally vice, that they are generated in the dung of other vices, and crawl into existence with the filth upon their back. the fugitives have found protection in you, and the levee-room is their place of rendezvous. as the federal constitution is a copy, though not quite so base as the original, of the form of the british government, an imitation of its vices was naturally to be expected. so intimate is the connection between _form and practice_, that to adopt the one is to invite the other. imitation is naturally progressive, and is rapidly so in matters that are vicious. soon after the federal constitution arrived in england, i received a letter from a female literary correspondent (a native of new york) very well mixed with friendship, sentiment, and politics. in my answer to that letter, i permitted myself to ramble into the wilderness of imagination, and to anticipate what might hereafter be the condition of america. i had no idea that the picture i then drew was realizing so fast, and still less that mr. washington was hurrying it on. as the extract i allude to is congenial with the subject i am upon, i here transcribe it: [_the extract is the same as that given in a footnote, in the memorial to monroe, p. _.] impressed, as i was, with apprehensions of this kind, i had america constantly in my mind in all the publications i afterwards made. the first, and still more the second, part of the rights of man, bear evident marks of this watchfulness; and the dissertation on first principles of government [xxiv.] goes more directly to the point than either of the former. i now pass on to other subjects. it will be supposed by those into whose hands this letter may fall, that i have some personal resentment against you; i will therefore settle this point before i proceed further. if i have any resentment, you must acknowledge that i have not been hasty in declaring it; neither would it now be declared (for what are private resentments to the public) if the cause of it did not unite itself as well with your public as with your private character, and with the motives of your political conduct. the part i acted in the american revolution is well known; i shall not here repeat it. i know also that had it not been for the aid received from france, in men, money and ships, that your cold and unmilitary conduct (as i shall shew in the course of this letter) would in all probability have lost america; at least she would not have been the independent nation she now is. you slept away your time in the field, till the finances of the country were completely exhausted, and you have but little share in the glory of the final event. it is time, sir, to speak the undisguised language of historical truth. elevated to the chair of the presidency, you assumed the merit of every thing to yourself, and the natural ingratitude of your constitution began to appear. you commenced your presidential career by encouraging and swallowing the grossest adulation, and you travelled america from one end to the other to put yourself in the way of receiving it. you have as many addresses in your chest as james the ii. as to what were your views, for if you are not great enough to have ambition you are little enough to have vanity, they cannot be directly inferred from expressions of your own; but the partizans of your politics have divulged the secret. john adams has said, (and john it is known was always a speller after places and offices, and never thought his little services were highly enough paid,)--john has said, that as mr. washington had no child, the presidency should be made hereditary in the family of lund washington. john might then have counted upon some sinecure himself, and a provision for his descendants. he did not go so far as to say, also, that the vice-presidency should be hereditary in the family of john adams. he prudently left that to stand on the ground that one good turn deserves another.(*) john adams is one of those men who never contemplated the origin of government, or comprehended any thing of first principles. if he had, he might have seen, that the right to set up and establish hereditary government, never did, and never can, exist in any generation at any time whatever; that it is of the nature of treason; because it is an attempt to take away the rights of all the minors living at that time, and of all succeeding generations. it is of a degree beyond common treason. it is a sin against nature. the equal right of every generation is a right fixed in the nature of things. it belongs to the son when of age, as it belonged to the father before him. john adams would himself deny the right that any former deceased generation could have to decree authoritatively a succession of governors over him, or over his children; and yet he assumes the pretended right, treasonable as it is, of acting it himself. his ignorance is his best excuse. john jay has said,(**) (and this john was always the sycophant of every thing in power, from mr. girard in america, to grenville in england,)--john jay has said, that the senate should have been appointed for life. he would then have been sure of never wanting a lucrative appointment for himself, and have had no fears about impeachment. these are the disguised traitors that call themselves federalists.(**) could i have known to what degree of corruption and perfidy the administrative part of the government of america had descended, i could have been at no loss to have understood the reservedness of mr. washington towards me, during my imprisonment in the luxembourg. there are cases in which silence is a loud language. i will here explain the cause of that imprisonment, and return to mr. washington afterwards. * two persons to whom john adams said this, told me of it. the secretary of mr. jay was present when it was told to me.--_author_. ** if mr. john jay desires to know on what authority i say this, i will give that authority publicly when he chooses to call for it--_author_. in the course of that rage, terror and suspicion, which the brutal letter of the duke of brunswick first started into existence in france, it happened that almost every man who was opposed to violence, or who was not violent himself, became suspected. i had constantly been opposed to every thing which was of the nature or of the appearance of violence; but as i had always done it in a manner that shewed it to be a principle founded in my heart, and not a political manouvre, it precluded the pretence of accusing me. i was reached, however, under another pretence. a decree was passed to imprison all persons born in england; but as i was a member of the convention, and had been complimented with the honorary style of citizen of france, as mr. washington and some other americans had been, this decree fell short of reaching me. a motion was afterwards made and carried, supported chiefly by bourdon de l'oise, for expelling foreigners from the convention. my expulsion being thus effected, the two committees of public safety and of general surety, of which robespierre was the dictator, put me in arrestation under the former decree for imprisoning persons born in england. having thus shewn under what pretence the imprisonment was effected, i come to speak of such parts of the case as apply between me and mr. washington, either as a president or as an individual. i have always considered that a foreigner, such as i was in fact, with respect to france, might be a member of a convention for framing a constitution, without affecting his right of citizenship in the country to which he belongs, but not a member of a government after a constitution is formed; and i have uniformly acted upon this distinction» to be a member of a government requires that a person be in allegiance to that government and to the country locally. but a constitution, being a thing of principle, and not of action, and which, after it is formed, is to be referred to the people for their approbation or rejection, does not require allegiance in the persons forming and proposing it; and besides this, it is only to the thing after it be formed and established, and to the country after its governmental character is fixed by the adoption of a constitution, that the allegiance can be given. no oath of allegiance or of citizenship was required of the members who composed the convention: there was nothing existing in form to swear allegiance to. if any such condition had been required, i could not, as citizen of america in fact, though citizen of france by compliment, have accepted a seat in the convention. as my citizenship in america was not altered or diminished by any thing i had done in europe, (on the contrary, it ought to be considered as strengthened, for it was the american principle of government that i was endeavouring to spread in europe,) and as it is the duty of every govern-ment to charge itself with the care of any of its citizens who may happen to fall under an arbitrary persecution abroad, and is also one of the reasons for which ambassadors or ministers are appointed,--it was the duty of the executive department in america, to have made (at least) some enquiries about me, as soon as it heard of my imprisonment. but if this had not been the case, that government owed it to me on every ground and principle of honour and gratitude. mr. washington owed it to me on every score of private acquaintance, i will not now say, friendship; for it has some time been known by those who know him, that he has no friendships; that he is incapable of forming any; he can serve or desert a man, or a cause, with constitutional indifference; and it is this cold hermaphrodite faculty that imposed itself upon the world, and was credited for a while by enemies as by friends, for prudence, moderation and impartiality.( ) "l'on pent dire qu'il [washington] jouit de tous les avantages possibles a l'exception des douceurs de l'amitié."--louis otto, chargé d'affaires (at new york) to his government, june, . french archives, vol. , no. .--editor. soon after i was put into arrestation, and imprisoned in the luxembourg, the americans who were then in paris went in a body to the bar of the convention to reclaim me. they were answered by the then president vadier, who has since absconded, that _i was born in england_, and it was signified to them, by some of the committee of _general surety_, to whom they were referred (i have been told it was billaud varennes,) that their reclamation of me was only the act of individuals, without any authority from the american government. a few days after this, all communications from persons imprisoned to any person without the prison was cut off by an order of the police. i neither saw, nor heard from, any body for six months; and the only hope that remained to me was, that a new minister would arrive from america to supercede morris, and that he would be authorized to enquire into the cause of my imprisonment. but even this hope, in the state to which matters were daily arriving, was too remote to have any consolatory effect, and i contented myself with the thought, that i might be remembered when it would be too late. there is perhaps no condition from which a man conscious of his own uprightness cannot derive consolation; for it is in itself a consolation for him to find, that he can bear that condition with calmness and fortitude. from about the middle of march ( ) to the fall of robespierre july , ( th of thermidor,) the state of things in the prisons was a continued scene of horror. no man could count upon life for twenty-four hours. to such a pitch of rage and suspicion were robespierre and his committee arrived, that it seemed as if they feared to leave a man living. scarcely a night passed in which ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, or more, were not taken out of the prison, carried before a pretended tribunal in the morning, and guillotined before night. one hundred and sixty-nine were taken out of the luxembourg one night, in the month of july, and one hundred and sixty of them guillotined. a list of two hundred more, according to the report in the prison, was preparing a few days before robespierre fell. in this last list i have good reason to believe i was included. a memorandum in the hand-writing of robespierre was afterwards produced in the convention, by the committee to whom the papers of robespierre were referred, in these words: "demander que thomas "i demand that thomas paine "payne soit décrété d'ac- be decreed of accusation "cusation pour les inté- for the interests of america "rôtsde l'amérique,autant as well as of france." "que de la france." in reading this the committee added, "why thomas payne more than another? because he helped to establish the liberty of both worlds."--_editor_. i had then been imprisoned seven months, and the silence of the executive part of the government of america (mr. washington) upon the case, and upon every thing respecting me, was explanation enough to robespierre that he might proceed to extremities. a violent fever which had nearly terminated my existence, was, i believe, the circumstance that preserved it. i was not in a condition to be removed, or to know of what was passing, or of what had passed, for more than a month. it makes a blank in my remembrance of life. the first thing i was informed of was the fall of robespierre. about a week after this, mr. monroe arrived to supercede gouverneur morris, and as soon as i was able to write a note legible enough to be read, i found a way to convey one to him by means of the man who lighted the lamps in the prison; and whose unabated friendship to me, from whom he had never received any service, and with difficulty accepted any recompense, puts the character of mr. washington to shame. in a few days i received a message from mr. monroe, conveyed to me in a note from an intermediate person, with assurance of his friendship, and expressing a desire that i would rest the case in his hands. after a fortnight or more had passed, and hearing nothing farther, i wrote to a friend who was then in paris, a citizen of philadelphia, requesting him to inform me what was the true situation of things with respect to me. i was sure that something was the matter; i began to have hard thoughts of mr. washington, but i was unwilling to encourage them. in about ten days, i received an answer to my letter, in which the writer says, "mr. monroe has told me that he has no order [meaning from the president, mr. washington] respecting you, but that he (mr. monroe) will do every thing in his power to liberate you; but, from what i learn from the americans lately arrived in paris, you are not considered, either by the american government, or by the individuals, as an american citizen." i was now at no loss to understand mr. washington and his new fangled faction, and that their policy was silently to leave me to fall in france. they were rushing as fast as they could venture, without awakening the jealousy of america, into all the vices and corruptions of the british government; and it was no more consistent with the policy of mr. washington, and those who immediately surrounded him, than it was with that of robespierre or of pitt, that i should survive. they have, however, missed the mark, and the reaction is upon themselves. upon the receipt of the letter just alluded to, i sent a memorial to mr. monroe, which the reader will find in the appendix, and i received from him the following answer.( ) it is dated the th of september, but did not come to hand till about the th of october. i was then failing into a relapse, the weather was becoming damp and cold, fuel was not to be had, and the abscess in my side, the consequence of these things, and of the want of air and exercise, was beginning to form, and which has continued immoveable ever since. here follows mr. monroe's letter. the appendix consisted of an abridgment of the memorial, which forms the preceding chapter (xxi.) in this volume.-- _editor._. paris, september th, . "dear sir, "i was favoured soon after my arrival here with several letters from you, and more latterly with one in the character of memorial upon the subject of your confinement; and should have answered them at the times they were respectively written had i not concluded you would have calculated with certainty upon the deep interest i take in your welfare, and the pleasure with which i shall embrace every opportunity in my power to serve you. i should still pursue the same course, and for reasons which must obviously occur, if i did not find that you are disquieted with apprehensions upon interesting points, and which justice to you and our country equally forbid you should entertain. you mention that you have been informed you are not considered as an american citizen by the americans, and that you have likewise heard that i had no instructions respecting you by the government. i doubt not the person who gave you the information meant well, but i suspect he did not even convey accurately his own ideas on the first point: for i presume the most he could say is, that you had likewise become a french citizen, and which by no means deprived you of being an american one. even this, however, may be doubted, i mean the acquisition of citizenship in france, and i confess you have said much to show that it has not been made. i really suspect that this was all that the gentleman who wrote to you, and those americans he heard speak upon the subject meant. it becomes my duty, however, to declare to you, that i consider you as an american citizen, and that you are considered universally in that character by the people of america. as such you are entitled to my attention; and so far as it can be given consistently with those obligations which are mutual between every government and even a transient passenger, you shall receive it. "the congress have never decided upon the subject of citizenship in a manner to regard the present case. by being with us through the revolution you are of our country as absolutely as if you had been born there, and you are no more of england, than every native american is. this is the true doctrine in the present case, so far as it becomes complicated with any other consideration. i have mentioned it to make you easy upon the only point which could give you any disquietude. "is it necessary for me to tell you how much all your countrymen, i speak of the great mass of the people, are interested in your welfare? they have not forgotten the history of their own revolution and the difficult scenes through which they passed; nor do they review its several stages without reviving in their bosoms a due sensibility of the merits of those who served them in that great and arduous conflict. the crime of ingratitude has not yet stained, and i trust never will stain, our national character. you are considered by them as not only having rendered important service in our own revolution, but as being, on a more extensive scale, the friend of human rights, and a distinguished and able advocate in favour of public liberty. to the welfare of thomas paine, the americans are not, nor can they be, indifferent. "of the sense which the president has always entertained of your merits, and of his friendly disposition towards you, you are too well assured to require any declaration of it from me. that i forward his wishes in seeking your safety is what i well know, and this will form an additional obligation on me to perform what i should otherwise consider as a duty. "you are, in my opinion, at present menaced by no kind of danger. to liberate you, will be an object of my endeavours, and as soon as possible. but you must, until that event shall be accomplished, bear your situation with patience and fortitude. you will likewise have the justice to recollect, that i am placed here upon a difficult theatre* many important objects to attend to, with few to consult it becomes me in pursuit of those to regulate my conduct in respect to each, as to the manner and the time, as will, in my judgment, be best calculated to accomplish the whole. "with great esteem and respect consider me personally your friend, "james monroe." the part in mr. monroe's letter, in which he speaks of the president, (mr. washington,) is put in soft language. mr. monroe knew what mr. washington had said formerly, and he was willing to keep that in view. but the fact is, not only that mr. washington had given no orders to mr. monroe, as the letter [of whiteside] stated, but he did not so much as say to him, enquire if mr. paine be dead or alive, in prison or out, or see if there be any assistance we can give him. this i presume alludes to the embarrassments which the strange conduct of gouverneur morris had occasioned, and which, i well know, had created suspicions of the sincerity of mr. washington.--_author_. voi. m--ij while these matters were passing, the liberations from the prisons were numerous; from twenty to forty in the course of almost every twenty-four hours. the continuance of my imprisonment after a new minister had arrived immediately from america, which was now more than two months, was a matter so obviously strange, that i found the character of the american government spoken of in very unqualified terms of reproach; not only by those who still remained in prison, but by those who were liberated, and by persons who had access to the prison from without. under these circumstances i wrote again to mr. monroe, and found occasion, among other things, to say: "it will not add to the popularity of mr. washington to have it believed in america, as it is believed here, that he connives at my imprisonment." the case, so far as it respected mr. monroe, was, that having to get over the difficulties, which the strange conduct of gouverneur morris had thrown in the way of a successor, and having no authority from the american government to speak officially upon any thing relating to me, he found himself obliged to proceed by unofficial means with individual members; for though robespierre was overthrown, the robespierrian members of the committee of public safety still remained in considerable force, and had they found out that mr. monroe had no official authority upon the case, they would have paid little or no regard to his reclamation of me. in the mean time my health was suffering exceedingly, the dreary prospect of winter was coming on, and imprisonment was still a thing of danger. after the robespierrian members of the committee were removed by the expiration of their time of serving, mr. monroe reclaimed me, and i was liberated the th of november. mr. monroe arrived in paris the beginning of august before. all that period of my imprisonment, at least, i owe not to robespierre, but to his colleague in projects, george washington. immediately upon my liberation, mr. monroe invited me to his house, where i remained more than a year and a half; and i speak of his aid and friendship, as an open-hearted man will always do in such a case, with respect and gratitude. soon after my liberation, the convention passed an unanimous vote, to invite me to return to my seat among them. the times were still unsettled and dangerous, as well from without as within, for the coalition was unbroken, and the constitution not settled. i chose, however, to accept the invitation: for as i undertake nothing but what i believe to be right, i abandon nothing that i undertake; and i was willing also to shew, that, as i was not of a cast of mind to be deterred by prospects or retrospects of danger, so neither were my principles to be weakened by misfortune or perverted by disgust. being now once more abroad in the world, i began to find that i was not the only one who had conceived an unfavourable opinion of mr. washington; it was evident that his character was on the decline as well among americans as among foreigners of different nations. from being the chief of the government, he had made himself the chief of a party; and his integrity was questioned, for his politics had a doubtful appearance. the mission of mr. jay to london, notwithstanding there was an american minister there already, had then taken place, and was beginning to be talked of. it appeared to others, as it did to me, to be enveloped in mystery, which every day served either to increase or to explain into matter of suspicion. in the year , or about that time, mr. washington, as president, had sent gouverneur morris to london, as his secret agent to have some communication with the british ministry. to cover the agency of morris it was given out, i know not by whom, that he went as an agent from robert morris to borrow money in europe, and the report was permitted to pass uncontradicted. the event of morris's negociation was, that mr. hammond was sent minister from england to america, pinckney from america to england, and himself minister to france. if, while morris was minister in france, he was not a emissary of the british ministry and the coalesced powers, he gave strong reasons to suspect him of it. no one who saw his conduct, and heard his conversation, could doubt his being in their interest; and had he not got off the time he did, after his recall, he would have been in arrestation. some letters of his had fallen into the hands of the committee of public safety, and enquiry was making after him. a great bustle had been made by mr. washington about the conduct of genet in america, while that of his own minister, morris, in france, was infinitely more reproachable. if genet was imprudent or rash, he was not treacherous; but morris was all three. he was the enemy of the french revolution, in every stage of it. but notwithstanding this conduct on the part of morris, and the known profligacy of his character, mr. washington in a letter he wrote to him at the time of recalling him on the complaint and request of the committee of public safety, assures him, that though he had complied with that request, he still retained the same esteem and friendship for him as before. this letter morris was foolish enough to tell of; and, as his own char-acter and conduct were notorious, the telling of it could have but one effect, which was that of implicating the character of the writer.( ) morris still loiters in europe, chiefly in england; and mr. washington is still in correspondence with him. mr. washington ought, therefore, to expect, especially since his conduct in the affairs of jay's treaty, that france must consider morris and washington as men of the same description. the chief difference, however, between the two is, (for in politics there is none,) that the one is profligate enough to profess an indifference about _moral_ principles, and the other is prudent enough to conceal the want of them. washington wrote to morris, june , , "my confidence in and friendship for you remain undiminished." it was not "foolish" but sagacious to show this one sentence, without which morris might not have escaped out of france. the letter reveals washington's mental decline. he says "until then [fauchet's demand for recall of morris, early ] i had supposed you stood well with the powers that were." lafayette had pleaded for morris's removal, and two french ministers before fauchet, ternant and genet, had expressed their government's dissatisfaction with him. see ford's writings of washington, vii., p. ; also editor's introduction to xxi.--_editor._ about three months after i was at liberty, the official note of jay to grenville on the subject of the capture of american vessels by the british cruisers, appeared in the american papers that arrived at paris. every thing was of a-piece. every thing was mean. the same kind of character went to all circumstances public or private. disgusted at this national degradation, as well as at the particular conduct of mr. washington to me, i wrote to him (mr. washington) on the d of february ( ) under cover to the then secretary of state, (mr. randolph,) and entrusted the letter to mr. le-tombe, who was appointed french consul to philadelphia, and was on the point of taking his departure. when i supposed mr. letombe had sailed, i mentioned the letter to mr. monroe, and as i was then in his house, i shewed it to him. he expressed a wish that i would recall it, which he supposed might be done, as he had learnt that mr. letombe had not then sailed. i agreed to do so, and it was returned by mr. letombe under cover to mr. monroe. the letter, however, will now reach mr. washington publicly in the course of this work. about the month of september following, i had a severe relapse which gave occasion to the report of my death. i had felt it coming on a considerable time before, which occasioned me to hasten the work i had then in hand, the _second part of the age of reason_. when i had finished that work, i bestowed another letter on mr. washington, which i sent under cover to mr. benj. franklin bache of philadelphia. the letter is as follows: "paris, september th, . "sir, "i had written you a letter by mr. letombe, french consul, but, at the request of mr. monroe, i withdrew it, and the letter is still by me. i was the more easily prevailed upon to do this, as it was then my intention to have returned to america the latter end of the present year, ; but the illness i now suffer prevents me. in case i had come, i should have applied to you for such parts of your official letters (and of your private ones, if you had chosen to give them) as contained any instructions or directions either to mr. monroe, or to mr. morris, or to any other person respecting me; for after you were informed of my imprisonment in france, it was incumbent on you to have made some enquiry into the cause, as you might very well conclude that i had not the opportunity of informing you of it. i cannot understand your silence upon this subject upon any other ground, than as _connivance_ at my imprisonment; and this is the manner it is understood here, and will be understood in america, unless you give me authority for contradicting it. i therefore write you this letter, to propose to you to send me copies of any letters you have written, that may remove that suspicion. in the preface to the second part of the age of reason, i have given a memorandum from the hand-writing of robespierre, in which he proposed a decree of accusation against me, '_for the interests of america as well as of france!_' he could have no cause for putting america in the case, but by interpreting the silence of the american government into connivance and consent. i was imprisoned on the ground of being born in england; and your silence in not enquiring into the cause of that imprisonment, and reclaiming me against it, was tacitly giving me up. i ought not to have suspected you of treachery; but whether i recover from the illness i now suffer or not, i shall continue to think you treacherous, till you give me cause to think otherwise. i am sure you would have found yourself more at your ease, had you acted by me as you ought; for whether your desertion of me was intended to gratify the english government, or to let me fall into destruction in france that you might exclaim the louder against the french revolution, or whether you hoped by my extinction to meet with less opposition in mounting up the american government--either of these will involve you in reproach you will not easily shake off. "thomas paine." washington papers in state department. endorsed by bache: "jan. , . enclosed to benj. franklin bache, and by him forwarded immediately upon receipt."--_editor._. here follows the letter above alluded to, which i had stopped in complaisance to mr. monroe. "paris, february aad, . "sir, "as it is always painful to reproach those one would wish to respect, it is not without some difficulty that i have taken the resolution to write to you. the dangers to which i have been exposed cannot have been unknown to you, and the guarded silence you have observed upon that circumstance is what i ought not to have expected from you, either as a friend or as president of the united states. "you knew enough of my character to be assured that i could not have deserved imprisonment in france; and, without knowing any thing more than this, you had sufficient ground to have taken some interest for my safety. every motive arising from recollection of times past, ought to have suggested to you the propriety of such a measure. but i cannot find that you have so much as directed any enquiry to be made whether i was in prison or at liberty, dead or alive; what the cause of that imprisonment was, or whether there was any service or assistance you could render. is this what i ought to have expected from america, after the part i had acted towards her, or will it redound to her honour or to yours, that i tell the story? i do not hesitate to say, that you have not served america with more disinterestedness, or greater zeal, or more fidelity, than myself, and i know not if with better effect. after the revolution of america was established i ventured into new scenes of difficulties to extend the principles which that revolution had produced, and you rested at home to partake of the advantages. in the progress of events, you beheld yourself a president in america, and me a prisoner in france. you folded your arms, forgot your friend, and became silent. "as every thing i have been doing in europe was connected with my wishes for the prosperity of america, i ought to be the more surprised at this conduct on the part of her government. it leaves me but one mode of explanation, which is, _that every thing is not as it ought to be amongst you_, and that the presence of a man who might disapprove, and who had credit enough with the country to be heard and believed, was not wished for. this was the operating motive with the despotic faction that imprisoned me in france, (though the pretence was, that i was a foreigner,) and those that have been silent and inactive towards me in america, appear to me to have acted from the same motive. it is impossible for me to discover any other.( ) "after the part i have taken in the revolution of america, it is natural that i feel interested in whatever relates to her character and prosperity. though i am not on the spot to see what is immediately acting there, i see some part of what she is acting in europe. for your own sake, as well as for that of america, i was both surprised and concerned at the appointment of gouverneur morris to be minister to france. his conduct has proved that the opinion i had formed of that appointment was well founded. i wrote that opinion to mr. jefferson at the time, and i was frank enough to say the same thing to morris--_that it was an unfortunate appointment?_ his prating, insignificant pomposity, rendered him at once offensive, suspected, and ridiculous; and his total neglect of all business had so disgusted the americans, that they proposed drawing up a protest against him. he carried this neglect to such an extreme, that it was necessary to inform him of it; and i asked him one day, if he did not feel himself ashamed to take the money of the country, and do nothing for it?' but morris is so fond of profit and voluptousness, that he cares nothing about character. had he not been removed at the time he was, i think his conduct would have precipitated the two countries into a rupture; and in this case, hated _systematically_ as america is and ever will be by the british government, and at the same time suspected by france, the commerce of america would have fallen a prey to both countries. this paragraph of the original letter was omitted from the american pamphlet, probably by the prudence of mr. bache.-- _editor._ "i have just heard of gouverneur morris's appointment. it is a most unfortunate one; and, as i shall mention the same thing to him when i see him, i do not express it to you with the injunction of confidence."--paine to jefferson, feb. , .--_editor._ paine could not of course know that morris was willing that the americans, to whom he alludes, captains of captured vessels, should suffer, in order that there might be a case against france of violation of treaty, which would leave the united states free to transfer the alliance to england. see introduction to xxi.. also my "life of paine," ii., p. .--_editor._. "if the inconsistent conduct of morris exposed the interest of america to some hazard in france, the pusillanimous conduct of mr. jay in england has rendered the american government contemptible in europe. is it possible that any man who has contributed to the independence of amer-ica, and to free her from the tyranny and injustice of the british government, can read without shame and indignation the note of jay to grenville? it is a satire upon the declaration of independence, and an encouragement to the british government to treat america with contempt. at the time this minister of petitions was acting this miserable part, he had every means in his hands to enable him to have done his business as he ought. the success or failure of his mission depended upon the success or failure of the french arms. had france failed, mr. jay might have put his humble petition in his pocket, and gone home. the case happened to be otherwise, and he has sacrificed the honour and perhaps all the advantages of it, by turning petitioner. i take it for granted, that he was sent over to demand indemnification for the captured property; and, in this case, if he thought he wanted a preamble to his demand, he might have said, 'that, tho' the government of england might suppose itself under the necessity of seizing american property bound to france, yet that supposed necessity could not preclude indemnification to the proprietors, who, acting under the authority of their own government, were not accountable to any other.' "but mr. jay sets out with an implied recognition of the right of the british government to seize and condemn: for he enters his complaint against the _irregularity_ of the seizures and the condemnation, as if they were reprehensible only by not being _conformable_ to the _terms_ of the proclamation under which they were seized. instead of being the envoy of a government, he goes over like a lawyer to demand a new trial. i can hardly help thinking that grenville wrote that note himself and jay signed it; for the style of it is domestic and not diplomatic. the term, _his_ majesty, used without any descriptive epithet, always signifies the king whom the minister that speaks represents. if this sinking of the demand into a petition was a juggle between grenville and jay, to cover the indemnification, i think it will end in another juggle, that of never paying the money, and be made use of afterwards to preclude the right of demanding it: for mr. jay has virtually disowned the right _by appealing to the magnanimity of his majesty against the capturers_. he has made this magnanimous majesty the umpire in the case, and the government of the united states must abide by the decision. if, sir, i turn some part of this business into ridicule, it is to avoid the unpleasant sensation of serious indignation. "among other things which i confess i do not understand, is the proclamation of neutrality. this has always appeared to me as an assumption on the part of the executive not warranted by the constitution. but passing this over, as a disputable case, and considering it only as political, the consequence has been that of sustaining the losses of war, without the balance of reprisals. when the profession of neutrality, on the part of america, was answered by hostilities on the part of britain, the object and intention of that neutrality existed no longer; and to maintain it after this, was not only to encourage farther insults and depredations, but was an informal breach of neutrality towards france, by passively contributing to the aid of her enemy. that the government of england considered the american government as pusillanimous, is evident from the encreasing insolence of the conduct of the former towards the latter, till the affair of general wayne. she then saw that it might be possible to kick a government into some degree of spirit.( ) so far as the proclamation of neutrality was intended to prevent a dissolute spirit of privateering in america under foreign colors, it was undoubtedly laudable; but to continue it as a government neutrality, after the commerce of america was made war upon, was submission and not neutrality. i have heard so much about this thing called neutrality, that i know not if the ungenerous and dishonorable silence (for i must call it such,) that has been observed by your part of the government towards me, during my imprisonment, has not in some measure arisen from that policy. wayne's success against the indians of the six nations, , was regarded by washington also as a check on england. writing to pendleton, jan. , , he says: "there is reason to believe that the indians...._together with their abettors_; begin to see things in a different point of view." (italics mine).--_editor._ "tho' i have written you this letter, you ought not to suppose it has been an agreeable undertaking to me. on the contrary, i assure you, it has caused me some disquietude. i am sorry you have given me cause to do it; for, as i have always remembered your former friendship with pleasure, i suffer a loss by your depriving me of that sentiment. "thomas paine." that this letter was not written in very good temper, is very evident; but it was just such a letter as his conduct appeared to me to merit, and every thing on his part since has served to confirm that opinion. had i wanted a commentary on his silence, with respect to my imprisonment in france, some of his faction have furnished me with it. what i here allude to, is a publication in a philadelphia paper, copied afterwards into a new york paper, both under the patronage of the washington faction, in which the writer, still supposing me in prison in france, wonders at my lengthy respite from the scaffold; and he marks his politics still farther, by saying: "it appears, moreover, that the people of england did not relish his (thomas paine's) opinions quite so well as he expected, and that for one of his last pieces, as destructive to the peace and happiness of their country, (meaning, i suppose, the _rights of man_,) they threatened our knight-errant with such serious vengeance, that, to avoid a trip to botany bay, he fled over to france, as a less dangerous voyage." i am not refuting or contradicting the falsehood of this publication, for it is sufficiently notorious; neither am i censuring the writer: on the contrary, i thank him for the explanation he has incautiously given of the principles of the washington faction. insignificant, however, as the piece is, it was capable of having some ill effects, had it arrived in france during my imprisonment, and in the time of robespierre; and i am not uncharitable in supposing that this was one of the intentions of the writer.(*) * i know not who the writer of the piece is, but some of the americans say it is phineas bond, an american refugee, but now a british consul; and that he writes under the signature of peter skunk or peter porcupine, or some such signature.--author. this footnote probably added to the gall of porcupine's (cobbett's) "letter to the infamous tom paine, in answer to his letter to general washington" (polit. censor, dec., ), of which he (cobbett) afterwards repented. phineas bond had nothing to do with it.--editor. i have now done with mr. washington on the score of private affairs. it would have been far more agreeable to me, had his conduct been such as not to have merited these reproaches. errors or caprices of the temper can be pardoned and forgotten; but a cold deliberate crime of the heart, such as mr. washington is capable of acting, is not to be washed away. i now proceed to other matter. after jay's note to grenville arrived in paris from america, the character of every thing that was to follow might be easily foreseen; and it was upon this anticipation that _my_ letter of february the d was founded. the event has proved that i was not mistaken, except that it has been much worse than i expected. it would naturally occur to mr. washington, that the secrecy of jay's mission to england, where there was already an american minister, could not but create some suspicion in the french government; especially as the conduct of morris had been notorious, and the intimacy of mr. washington with morris was known. the character which mr. washington has attempted to act in the world, is a sort of non-describable, camelion-colored thing, called _prudence_. it is, in many cases, a substitute for principle, and is so nearly allied to hypocrisy that it easily slides into it. his genius for prudence furnished him in this instance with an expedient that served, as is the natural and general character of all expedients, to diminish the embarrassments of the moment and multiply them afterwards; for he authorized it to be made known to the french government, as a confidential matter, (mr. washington should recollect that i was a member of the convention, and had the means of knowing what i here state) he authorized it, i say, to be announced, and that for the purpose of preventing any uneasiness to france on the score of mr. jay's mission to england, that the object of that mission, and of mr. jay's authority, was restricted to that of demanding the surrender of the western posts, and indemnification for the cargoes captured in american vessels. mr. washington knows that this was untrue; and knowing this, he had good reason to himself for refusing to furnish the house of representatives with copies of the instructions given to jay, as he might suspect, among other things, that he should also be called upon for copies of instructions given to other ministers, and that, in the contradiction of instructions, his want of integrity would be detected.( ) mr. washington may now, perhaps, learn, when it is too late to be of any use to him, that a man will pass better through the world with a thousand open errors upon his back, than in being detected in _one_ sly falsehood. when one is detected, a thousand are suspected. the first account that arrived in paris of a treaty being negotiated by mr. jay, (for nobody suspected any,) came in an english newspaper, which announced that a treaty _offensive and defensive_ had been concluded between the united states of america and england. this was immediately denied by every american in paris, as an impossible thing; and though it was disbelieved by the french, it imprinted a suspicion that some underhand business was going forward.(*) at length the treaty itself arrived, and every well-affected american blushed with shame. when the british treaty had been ratified by the senate (with one stipulation) and signed by the president, the house of representatives, required to supply the means for carrying into effect, believed that its power over the supplies authorized it to check what a large majority considered an outrage on the country and on france. this was the opinion of edmund randolph (the first attorney general), of jefferson, madison, and other eminent men. the house having respectfully requested the president to send them such papers on the treaty as would not affect any existing negotiations, he refused in a message (march , ), whose tenor madison described as "improper and indelicate." he said "the assent of the house of representatives is not necessary to the validity of a treaty." the house regarded the message as menacing a serious conflict, and receded.-- _editor._ * it was the embarrassment into which the affairs and credit of america were thrown at this instant by the report above alluded to, that made it necessary to contradict it, and that by every means arising from opinion or founded upon authority. the committee of public safety, existing at that time, had agreed to the full execution, on their part, of the treaty between america and france, notwithstanding some equivocal conduct on the part of the american government, not very consistent with the good faith of an ally; but they were not in a disposition to be imposed upon by a counter- treaty. that jay had no instructions beyond the points above stated, or none that could possibly be construed to extend to the length the british treaty goes, was a matter believed in america, in england, and in france; and without going to any other source it followed naturally from the message of the president to congress, when he nominated jay upon that mission. the secretary of mr. jay came to paris soon after the treaty with england had been concluded, and brought with him a copy of mr. jay's instructions, which he offered to shew to me as _justification of jay_. i advised him, as a friend, not to shew them to anybody, and did not permit him to shew them to me. "who is it," said i to him, "that you intend to implicate as censureable by shewing those instructions? perhaps that implication may fall upon your own government." though i did not see the instructions, i could not be at a loss to understand that the american administration had been playing a double game.--author. that there was a "double game" in this business, from first to last, is now a fact of history. jay was confirmed by the senate on a declaration of the president in which no faintest hint of a treaty was given, but only the "adjustment of our complaints," "vindication of our rights," and cultivation of "peace." only after the envoy's confirmation did the cabinet add the main thing, his authority to negotiate a commercial treaty. this was done against the protest of the only lawyer among them, edmund randolph, secretary of state, who said the exercise of such a power by jay would be an abridgment of the rights of the senate and of the nation. see my "life of randolph," p. . for jay's instructions, etc., see i. am. state papers, foreign relations.--editor. it is curious to observe, how the appearance of characters will change, whilst the root that produces them remains the same. the washington faction having waded through the slough of negociation, and whilst it amused france with professions of friendship contrived to injure her, immediately throws off the hypocrite, and assumes the swaggering air of a bravado. the party papers of that imbecile administration were on this occasion filled with paragraphs about _sovereignty_. a paltroon may boast of his sovereign right to let another kick him, and this is the only kind of sovereignty shewn in the treaty with england. but those daring paragraphs, as timothy pickering( ) well knows, were intended for france; without whose assistance, in men, money, and ships, mr. washington would have cut but a poor figure in the american war. but of his military talents i shall speak hereafter. i mean not to enter into any discussion of any article of jay's treaty; i shall speak only upon the whole of it. it is attempted to be justified on the ground of its not being a violation of any article or articles of the treaty pre-existing with france. but the sovereign right of explanation does not lie with george washington and his man timothy; france, on her part, has, at least, an equal right: and when nations dispute, it is not so much about words as about things. a man, such as the world calls a sharper, and versed as jay must be supposed to be in the quibbles of the law, may find a way to enter into engagements, and make bargains, in such a manner as to cheat some other party, without that party being able, as the phrase is, _to take the law of him_. this often happens in the cabalistical circle of what is called law. but when this is attempted to be acted on the national scale of treaties, it is too despicable to be defended, or to be permitted to exist. yet this is the trick upon which jay's treaty is founded, so far as it has relation to the treaty pre-existing with france. it is a counter-treaty to that treaty, and perverts all the great articles of that treaty to the injury of france, and makes them operate as a bounty to england, with whom france is at war. secretary of state.--_editor._. the washington administration shews great desire that the treaty between france and the united states be preserved. nobody can doubt their sincerity upon this matter. there is not a british minister, a british merchant, or a british agent or sailor in america, that does not anxiously wish the same thing. the treaty with france serves now as a passport to supply england with naval stores and other articles of american produce, whilst the same articles, when coming to france, are made contraband or seizable by jay's treaty with england. the treaty with france says, that neutral ships make neutral property, and thereby gives protection to english property on board american ships; and jay's treaty delivers up french property on board american ships to be seized by the english. it is too paltry to talk of faith, of national honour, and of the preservation of treaties, whilst such a bare-faced treachery as this stares the world in the face. the washington administration may save itself the trouble of proving to the french government its _most faithful_ intentions of preserving the treaty with france; for france has now no desire that it should be preserved. she had nominated an envoy extraordinary to america, to make mr. washington and his government a present of the treaty, and to have no more to do with _that_, or with _him_. it was at the same time officially declared to the american minister at paris, _that the french republic had rather have the american government for an open enemy than a treacherous friend_. this, sir, together with the internal distractions caused in america, and the loss of character in the world, is the _eventful crisis_, alluded to in the beginning of this letter, to which your double politics have brought the affairs of your country. it is time that the eyes of america be opened upon you. how france would have conducted herself towards america and american commerce, after all treaty stipulations had ceased, and under the sense of services rendered and injuries received, i know not. it is, however, an unpleasant reflection, that in all national quarrels, the innocent, and even the friendly part of the community, become involved with the culpable and the unfriendly; and as the accounts that arrived from america continued to manifest an invariable attachment in the general mass of the people to their original ally, in opposition to the new-fangled washington faction,--the resolutions that had been taken in france were suspended. it happened also, fortunately enough, that gouverneur morris was not minister at this time. there is, however, one point that still remains in embryo, and which, among other things, serves to shew the ignorance of washington treaty-makers, and their inattention to preexisting treaties, when they were employing themselves in framing or ratifying the new treaty with england. the second article of the treaty of commerce between the united states and france says: "the most christian king and the united states engage mutually, not to grant any particular favour to other nations in respect of commerce and navigation that shall not immediately become common to the other party, who shall enjoy the same favour freely, if the concession was freely made, or on allowing the same compensation if the concession was conditional." all the concessions, therefore, made to england by jay's treaty are, through the medium of this second article in the pre-existing treaty, made to france, and become engrafted into the treaty with france, and can be exercised by her as a matter of right, the same as by england. jay's treaty makes a concession to england, and that unconditionally, of seizing naval stores in american ships, and condemning them as contraband. it makes also a concession to england to seize provisions and _other articles_ in american ships. _other articles are all other articles_, and none but an ignoramus, or something worse, would have put such a phrase into a treaty. the condition annexed in this case is, that the provisions and other articles so seized, are to be paid for at a price to be agreed upon. mr. washington, as president, ratified this treaty after he knew the british government had recommended an indiscriminate seizure of provisions and all other articles in american ships; and it is now known that those seizures were made to fit out the expedition going to quiberon bay, and it was known before hand that they would be made. the evidence goes also a good way to prove that jay and grenville understood each other upon that subject. mr. pinckney,( ) when he passed through france on his way to spain, spoke of the recommencement of the seizures as a thing that would take place. gen. thomas pinckney, u. s. minister to england.-- _editor._ the french government had by some means received information from london to the same purpose, with the addition, that the recommencement of the seizures would cause no misunderstanding between the british and american governments. grenville, in defending himself against the opposition in parliament, on account of the scarcity of corn, said (see his speech at the opening of the parliament that met october , ) that _the supplies for the quiberon expedition were furnished out of the american ships_, and all the accounts received at that time from england stated that those seizures were made under the treaty. after the supplies for the quiberon expedition had been procured, and the expected success had failed, the seizures were countermanded; and had the french seized provision vessels going to england, it is probable that the quiberon expedition could not have been attempted. in one point of view, the treaty with england operates as a loan to the english government. it gives permission to that government to take american property at sea, to any amount, and pay for it when it suits her; and besides this, the treaty is in every point of view a surrender of the rights of american commerce and navigation, and a refusal to france of the rights of neutrality. the american flag is not now a neutral flag to france; jay's treaty of surrender gives a monopoly of it to england. on the contrary, the treaty of commerce between america and france was formed on the most liberal principles, and calculated to give the greatest encouragement to the infant commerce of america. france was neither a carrier nor an exporter of naval stores or of provisions. those articles belonged wholly to america, and they had all the protection in that treaty which a treaty could give. but so much has that treaty been perverted, that the liberality of it on the part of france, has served to encourage jay to form a counter-treaty with england; for he must have supposed the hands of france tied up by her treaty with america, when he was making such large concessions in favour of england. the injury which mr. washington's administration has done to the character as well as to the commerce of america, is too great to be repaired by him. foreign nations will be shy of making treaties with a government that has given the faithless example of perverting the liberality of a former treaty to the injury of the party with whom it was made.( ) for an analysis of the british treaty see wharton's "digest of the international law of the united states," vol. it, § a. paine's analysis is perfectly correct.-- _editor._. in what a fraudulent light must mr. washington's character appear in the world, when his declarations and his conduct are compared together! here follows the letter he wrote to the committee of public safety, while jay was negotiating in profound secrecy this treacherous treaty: "george washington, president of the united states of america, to the representatives of the french people, members of the committee of public safety of the french republic, the great and good friend and ally of the united states. "on the intimation of the wish of the french republic that à new minister should be sent from the united states, i resolved to manifest my sense of the readiness with which _my_ request was fulfilled, [that of recalling genet,] by immediately fulfilling the request of your government, [that of recalling morris]. "it was some time before a character could be obtained, worthy of the high office of expressing the attachment of the united states to the happiness of our allies, _and drawing closer the bonds of our friendship_. i have now made choice of james monroe, one of our distinguished citizens, to reside near the french republic, in quality of minister plenipotentiary of the united states of america. he is instructed to bear to you our _sincere solicitude for your welfare, and to cultivate with teal the cordiality so happily subsisting between us_. from a knowledge of his fidelity, probity, and good conduct, i have entire confidence that he will render himself acceptable to you, and give effect to your desire of preserving and _advancing, on all occasions, the interest and connection of the two nations_. i beseech you, therefore, to give full credence to whatever he shall say to you on the part of the united states, and _most of all, when he shall assure you that your prosperity is an object of our affection_. "and i pray god to have the french republic in his holy keeping. "g. washington." was it by entering into a treaty with england to surrender french property on board american ships to be seized by the english, while english property on board american ships was declared by the french treaty not to be seizable, _that the bonds of friendship between america and france were to be drawn the closer?_ was it by declaring naval stores contraband when coming to france, whilst by the french treaty they were not contraband when going to england, that the _connection between france and america was to be advanced?_ was it by opening the american ports to the british navy in the present war, from which ports the same navy had been expelled by the aid solicited from france in the american war (and that aid gratuitously given) ( ) that the gratitude of america was to be shewn, and the _solicitude_ spoken of in the letter demonstrated? the italics are paine's. paine's free use of this document suggests that he possessed the confidence of the french directory.--_editor._ it is notable that paine adheres to his old contention in his controversy with deane. see vol. i., ch. aa of this work; and vol. i., ch. of my "life of paine."--_editor._. as the letter was addressed to the committee of public safety, mr. washington did not expect it would get abroad in the world, or be seen by any other eye than that of robespierre, or be heard by any other ear than that of the committee; that it would pass as a whisper across the atlantic, from one dark chamber to the other, and there terminate. it was calculated to remove from the mind of the committee all suspicion upon jay's mission to england, and, in this point of view, it was suited to the circumstances of the movement then passing; but as the event of that mission has proved the letter to be hypocritical, it serves no other purpose of the present moment than to shew that the writer is not to be credited. two circumstances serve to make the reading of the letter necessary in the convention. the one was, that they who succeeded on the fall of robespierre, found it most proper to act with publicity; the other, to extinguish the suspicions which the strange conduct of morris had occasioned in france. when the british treaty, and the ratification of it by mr. washington, was known in france, all further declarations from him of his good disposition as an ally and friend, passed for so many cyphers; but still it appeared necessary to him to keep up the farce of declarations. it is stipulated in the british treaty, that commissioners are to report at the end of two years, on the case of _neutral ships making neutral property_. in the mean time, neutral ships do _not_ make neutral property, according to the british treaty, and they _do_ according to the french treaty. the preservation, therefore, of the french treaty became of great importance to england, as by that means she can employ american ships as carriers, whilst the same advantage is denied to france. whether the french treaty could exist as a matter of right after this clandestine perversion of it, could not but give some apprehensions to the partizans of the british treaty, and it became necessary to them to make up, by fine words, what was wanting in good actions. an opportunity offered to that purpose. the convention, on the public reception of mr. monroe, ordered the american flag and the french flags to be displayed unitedly in the hall of the convention. mr. monroe made a present of an american flag for the purpose. the convention returned this compliment by sending a french flag to america, to be presented by their minister, mr. adet, to the american government. this resolution passed long before jay's treaty was known or suspected: it passed in the days of confidence; but the flag was not presented by mr. adet till several months after the treaty had been ratified. mr. washington made this the occasion of saying some fine things to the french minister; and the better to get himself into tune to do this, he began by saying the finest things of himself. "born, sir (said he) in a land of liberty; _having_ early learned its value; _having_ engaged in a perilous conflict to defend it; _having_, in a word, devoted the best years of my life to secure its permanent establishment in my own country; _my_ anxious recollections, my sympathetic feelings, and _my_ best wishes are irresistibly excited, whenever, in any country, i see an oppressed people unfurl the banner of freedom." mr. washington, having expended so many fine phrases upon himself, was obliged to invent a new one for the french, and he calls them "wonderful people!" the coalesced powers acknowledged as much. it is laughable to hear mr. washington talk of his _sympathetic feelings_, who has always been remarked, even among his friends, for not having any. he has, however, given no proofs of any to me. as to the pompous encomiums he so liberally pays to himself, on the score of the american revolution, the reality of them may be questioned; and since he has forced them so much into notice, it is fair to examine his pretensions. a stranger might be led to suppose, from the egotism with which mr. washington speaks, that himself, and himself only, had generated, conducted, compleated, and established the revolution: in fine, that it was all his own doing. in the first place, as to the political part, he had no share in it; and, therefore, the whole of _that_ is out of the question with respect to him. there remains, then, only the military part; and it would have been prudent in mr. washington not to have awakened enquiry upon that subject. fame then was cheap; he enjoyed it cheaply; and nobody was disposed to take away the laurels that, whether they were _acquired_ or not, had been _given_. mr. washington's merit consisted in constancy. but constancy was the common virtue of the revolution. who was there that was inconstant? i know but of one military defection, that of arnold; and i know of no political defection, among those who made themselves eminent when the revolution was formed by the declaration of independence. even silas deane, though he attempted to defraud, did not betray.( ) this generous judgment by deane's old adversary has become questionable under recent investigations.--_editor._. but when we speak of military character, something more is to be understood than constancy; and something more _ought_ to be understood than the fabian system of _doing nothing_. the _nothing_ part can be done by any body. old mrs. thompson, the housekeeper of head quarters, (who threatened to make the sun and the wind shine through rivington of new york,) 'could have done it as well as mr. washington. deborah would have been as good as barak. mr. washington had the nominal rank of commander in chief, but he was not so in fact. he had, in reality, only a separate command. he had no controul over, or direction of, the army to the northward under gates, that captured burgoyne; nor of that to the south under [nathaniel] greene, that recovered the southern states.( ) the nominal rank, however, of commander in chief, served to throw upon him the lustre of those actions, and to make him appear as the soul and centre of all military operations in america. the tory publisher of new york city, whose press was destroyed in by a mob of connecticut soldiers.-- _editor._ see mr. winterbotham's valuable history of america, lately published.--author. [the "history of the establishment of independence" is contained in the first of mr. winterbotham's four volumes (london, ).--_editor._.] he commenced his command june, , during the time the massachusetts army lay before boston, and after the affair of bunker-hill. the commencement of his command was the commencement of inactivity. nothing was afterwards done, or attempted to be done, during the nine months he remained before boston. if we may judge from the resistance made at concord, and afterwards at bunker-hill, there was a spirit of enterprise at that time, which the presence of mr. washington chilled into cold defence. by the advantage of a good exterior he attracts respect, which his habitual silence tends to preserve; but he has not the talent of inspiring ardour in an army. the enemy removed from boston in march , to wait for reinforcements from europe, and to take a more advantageous position at new york. the inactivity of the campaign of , on the part of general washington, when the enemy had a less force than in any other future period of the war, and the injudicious choice of positions taken by him in the campaign of , when the enemy had its greatest force, necessarily produced the losses and misfortunes that marked that gloomy campaign. the positions taken were either islands or necks of land. in the former, the enemy, by the aid of their ships, could bring their whole force against apart of general washington's, as in the affair of long island; and in the latter, he might be shut up as in the bottom of a bag. this had nearly been the case at new york, and it was so in part; it was actually the case at fort washington; and it would have been the case at fort lee, if general greene had not moved precipitately off, leaving every thing behind, and by gaining hackinsack bridge, got out of the bag of bergen neck. how far mr. washington, as general, is blameable for these matters, i am not undertaking to determine; but they are evidently defects in military geography. the successful skirmishes at the close of that campaign, (matters that would scarcely be noticed in a better state of things,) make the brilliant exploits of general washington's seven campaigns. no wonder we see so much pusillanimity in the president, when we see so little enterprise in the general! the campaign of became famous, not by anything on the part of general washington, but by the capture of general burgoyne, and the army under his command, by the northern army at saratoga, under general gates. so totally distinct and unconnected were the two armies of washington and gates, and so independent was the latter of the authority of the nominal commander in chief, that the two generals did not so much as correspond, and it was only by a letter of general (since governor) clinton, that general washington was informed of that event. the british took possession of philadelphia this year, which they evacuated the next, just time enough to save their heavy baggage and fleet of transports from capture by the french admiral d'estaing, who arrived at the mouth of the delaware soon after. the capture of burgoyne gave an eclat in europe to the american arms, and facilitated the alliance with france. the eclat, however, was not kept up by any thing on the part of general washington. the same unfortunate languor that marked his entrance into the field, continued always. discontent began to prevail strongly against him, and a party was formed in congress, whilst sitting at york-town, in pennsylvania, for removing him from the command of the army. the hope, however, of better times, the news of the alliance with france, and the unwillingness of shewing discontent, dissipated the matter. nothing was done in the campaigns of , , , in the part where general washington commanded, except the taking of stony point by general wayne. the southern states in the mean time were over-run by the enemy. they were afterwards recovered by general greene, who had in a very great measure created the army that accomplished that recovery. in all this general washington had no share. the fabian system of war, followed by him, began now to unfold itself with all its evils; but what is fabian war without fabian means to support it? the finances of congress depending wholly on emissions of paper money, were exhausted. its credit was gone. the continental treasury was not able to pay the expense of a brigade of waggons to transport the necessary stores to the army, and yet the sole object, the establishment of the revolution, was a thing of remote distance. the time i am now speaking of is in the latter end of the year . in this situation of things it was found not only expedient, but absolutely necessary, for congress to state the whole case to its ally. i knew more of this matter, (before it came into congress or was known to general washington) of its progress, and its issue, than i chuse to state in this letter. colonel john laurens was sent to france as an envoy extraordinary on this occasion, and by a private agreement between him and me i accompanied him. we sailed from boston in the alliance frigate, february th, . france had already done much in accepting and paying bills drawn by congress. she was now called upon to do more. the event of colonel laurens's mission, with the aid of the venerable minister, franklin, was, that france gave in money, as a present, six millions of livres, and ten millions more as a loan, and agreed to send a fleet of not less than thirty sail of the line, at her own expense, as an aid to america. colonel laurens and myself returned from brest the st of june following, taking with us two millions and a half of livres (upwards of one hundred thousand pounds sterling) of the money given, and convoying two ships with stores. we arrived at boston the th of august following. de grasse arrived with the french fleet in the chesapeak at the same time, and was afterwards joined by that of barras, making sail of the line. the money was transported in waggons from boston to the bank at philadelphia, of which mr. thomas willing, who has since put himself at the head of the list of petitioners in favour of the british treaty, was then president. and it was by the aid of this money, and this fleet, and of rochambeau's army, that cornwallis was taken; the laurels of which have been unjustly given to mr. washington. his merit in that affair was no more than that of any other american officer. i have had, and still have, as much pride in the american revolution as any man, or as mr. washington has a right to have; but that pride has never made me forgetful whence the great aid came that compleated the business. foreign aid (that of france) was calculated upon at the commencement of the revolution. it is one of the subjects treated of in the pamphlet _common sense_, but as a matter that could not be hoped for, unless independence was declared. the aid, however, was greater than could have been expected. it is as well the ingratitude as the pusillanimity of mr. washington, and the washington faction, that has brought upon america the loss of character she now suffers in the world, and the numerous evils her commerce has undergone, and to which it is yet exposed. the british ministry soon found out what sort of men they had to deal with, and they dealt with them accordingly; and if further explanation was wanting, it has been fully given since, in the snivelling address of the new york chamber of commerce to the president, and in that of sundry merchants of philadelphia, which was not much better. see vol. i. of this work, p. ixx. paine was sharply taken to task on this point by "cato." ib.% pp. - .-- _editor._. when the revolution of america was finally established by the termination of the war, the world gave her credit for great character; and she had nothing to do but to stand firm upon that ground. the british ministry had their hands too full of trouble to have provoked a rupture with her, had she shown a proper resolution to defend her rights. but encouraged as they were by the submissive character of the american administration, they proceeded from insult to insult, till none more were left to be offered. the proposals made by sweden and denmark to the american administration were disregarded. i know not if so much as an answer has been returned to them. the minister penitentiary, (as some of the british prints called him,) mr. jay, was sent on a pilgrimage to london, to make up all by penance and petition. in the mean time the lengthy and drowsy writer of the pieces signed _camillas_ held himself in reserve to vindicate every thing; and to sound in america the tocsin of terror upon the inexhaustible resources of england. her resources, says he, are greater than those of all the other powers. this man is so intoxicated with fear and finance, that he knows not the difference between _plus_ and _minus_--between a hundred pounds in hand, and a hundred pounds worse than nothing. the commerce of america, so far as it had been established by all the treaties that had been formed prior to that by jay, was free, and the principles upon which it was established were good. that ground ought never to have been departed from. it was the justifiable ground of right, and no temporary difficulties ought to have induced an abandonment of it. the case is now otherwise. the ground, the scene, the pretensions, the everything, are changed. the commerce of america is, by jay's treaty, put under foreign dominion. the sea is not free for her. her right to navigate it is reduced to the right of escaping; that is, until some ship of england or france stops her vessels, and carries them into port. every article of american produce, whether from the sea or the sand, fish, flesh, vegetable, or manufacture, is, by jay's treaty, made either contraband or seizable. nothing is exempt. in all other treaties of commerce, the article which enumerates the contraband articles, such as fire arms, gunpowder, &c, is followed by another article which enumerates the articles not contraband: but it is not so in jay's treaty. there is no exempting article. its place is supplied by the article for seizing and carrying into port; and the sweeping phrase of "provisions and _other articles _" includes every thing. there never was such a base and servile treaty of surrender since treaties began to exist. this is the ground upon which america now stands. all her rights of commerce and navigation are to begin anew, and that with loss of character to begin with. if there is sense enough left in the heart to call a blush into the cheek, the washington administration must be ashamed to appear.--and as to you, sir, treacherous in private friendship (for so you have been to me, and that in the day of danger) and a hypocrite in public life, the world will be puzzled to decide whether you are an apostate or an impostor; whether you have abandoned good principles, or whether you ever had any. thomas paine. xxiii. observations.( ) state archives, paris, �tats unis, vol. , fol. . undated, but evidently written early in the year , when jay's treaty was as yet unknown. paine was then staying in the house of the american minister, monroe.--' editor, the united states of america are negociating with spain respecting the free navigation of the mississippi, and the territorial limits of this large river, in conformity with the treaty of peace with england dated th november, . as the brilliant successes of the french republic have forced england to grant us, what was in all justice our due, so the continuation of the prosperity of the republic, will force spain to make a treaty with us on the points in controversy. since it is certain that all that we shall obtain from spain will be due to the victories of france, and as the inhabitants of the western part of the united states (which part contains or covers more than half the united states), have decided to claim their rights to the free navigation of the mississippi, would it not be a wiser policy for the republican government (who have only to command to obtain) to arrogate all the merit, by making our demands to spain, one of the conditions, of france, to consent to restore peace to the castilians. they have only to declare, they will not make peace, or that they will support with all their might, the just reclamations of their allies against these powers,--against england for the surrender of the frontier posts, and for the indemnities due through their depredations on our trade, and against spain for our territorial limits, and the free navigation of the mississippi. this declaration would certainly not prolong the war a single day more, nor cost the republic an obole, whilst it would assure all the merit of success to france, and besides produce all the good effects mentioned above. it may perhaps be observed that the negociation is already finished with england, and perhaps in a manner which will not be approved of by france. that may be, (though the terms of this arrangement may not be known); but as to spain, the negociation is still pending, and it is evident that if france makes the above _declaration_ as to this power (which declaration would be a demonstrative proof of what she would have done in the other case if circumstances had required it), she would receive the same credit as if the declaration had been made relatively to the two powers. in fact the decree or resolution (and perhaps this last would be preferable) can be worded in terms which would declare that in case the arrangement with england were not satisfactory, france will nevertheless, maintain the just demands of america against that power. a like declaration, in case mr. jay should do anything reprehensible, and which might even be approved of in america, would certainly raise the reputation of the french republic to the most eminent degree of splendour, and lower in proportion that of her enemies. it is very certain that france cannot better favour the views of the british party in america, and wound in a most sensible manner the republican government of this country, than by adopting a strict and oppressive policy with regard to us. every one knows that the injustices committed by the privateers and other ships belonging to the french republic against our navigation, were causes of exultation and joy to this party, even when their own properties were subjected to these depredations, whilst the friends of france and the revolution were vexed and most confused about it. it follows then, that a generous policy would produce quite opposite effects--it would acquire for france the merit that is her due; it would discourage the hopes of her adversaries, and furnish the friends of humanity and liberty with the means of acting against the intrigues of england, and cement the union, and contribute towards the true interests of the two republics. so sublime and generous a manner of acting, which would not cost anything to france, would cement in a stronger way the ties between the two republics. the effect of such an event, would confound and annihilate in an irrevocable manner all the partisans for the british in america. there are nineteen twentieths of our nation attached through inclination and gratitude to france, and the small number who seek uselessly all sorts of pretexts to magnify the small occasions of complaint which might have subsisted previously will find itself reduced to silence, or have to join their expressions of gratitude to ours.--the results of this event cannot be doubted, though not reckoned on: all the american hearts will be french, and england will be afflicted. an american. xxiv. dissertation on first principles of government. ( ) printed from the first edition, whose title is as above, with the addition: "by thomas paine, author of common sense; rights of man; age of reason. paris, printed at the english press, me de vaugerard, no. . third year of the french republic." the pamphlet seems to have appeared early in july (perhaps the fourth), , and was meant to influence the decision of the national convention on the constitution then under discussion. this constitution, adopted september d, presently swept away by napoleon, contained some features which appeared to paine reactionary. those to which he most objected are quoted by him in his speech in the convention, which is bound up in the same pamphlet, and follows this "dissertation" in the present volume. in the constitution as adopted paine's preference for a plural executive was established, and though the bicameral organization (the council of five hundred and the council of ancients) was not such as he desired, his chief objection was based on his principle of manhood suffrage. but in regard to this see paine's "dissertations on government," written nine years before (vol. ii., ch. vi. of this work), and especially p. seq. of that volume, where he indicates the method of restraining the despotism of numbers.--_editor._, there is no subject more interesting to every man than the subject of government. his security, be he rich or poor, and in a great measure his prosperity, are connected therewith; it is therefore his interest as well as his duty to make himself acquainted with its principles, and what the practice ought to be. every art and science, however imperfectly known at first, has been studied, improved, and brought to what we call perfection by the progressive labours of succeeding generations; but the science of government has stood still. no improvement has been made in the principle and scarcely any in the practice till the american revolution began. in all the countries of europe (except in france) the same forms and systems that were erected in the remote ages of ignorance still continue, and their antiquity is put in the place of principle; it is forbidden to investigate their origin, or by what right they exist. if it be asked how has this happened, the answer is easy: they are established on a principle that is false, and they employ their power to prevent detection. notwithstanding the mystery with which the science of government has been enveloped, for the purpose of enslaving, plundering, and imposing upon mankind, it is of all things the least mysterious and the most easy to be understood. the meanest capacity cannot be at a loss, if it begins its enquiries at the right point. every art and science has some point, or alphabet, at which the study of that art or science begins, and by the assistance of which the progress is facilitated. the same method ought to be observed with respect to the science of government. instead then of embarrassing the subject in the outset with the numerous subdivisions under which different forms of government have been classed, such as aristocracy, democracy, oligarchy, monarchy, &c. the better method will be to begin with what may be called primary divisions, or those under which all the several subdivisions will be comprehended. the primary divisions are but two: first, government by election and representation. secondly, government by hereditary succession. all the several forms and systems of government, however numerous or diversified, class themselves under one or other of those primary divisions; for either they are on the system of representation, or on that of hereditary succession. as to that equivocal thing called mixed government, such as the late government of holland, and the present government of england, it does not make an exception to the general rule, because the parts separately considered are either representative or hereditary. beginning then our enquiries at this point, we have first to examine into the nature of those two primary divisions. if they are equally right in principle, it is mere matter of opinion which we prefer. if the one be demonstratively better than the other, that difference directs our choice; but if one of them should be so absolutely false as not to have a right to existence, the matter settles itself at once; because a negative proved on one thing, where two only are offered, and one must be accepted, amounts to an affirmative on the other. the revolutions that are now spreading themselves in the world have their origin in this state of the case, and the present war is a conflict between the representative system founded on the rights of the people, and the hereditary system founded in usurpation. as to what are called monarchy, royalty, and aristocracy, they do not, either as things or as terms, sufficiently describe the hereditary system; they are but secondary things or signs of the hereditary system, and which fall of themselves if that system has not a right to exist. were there no such terms as monarchy, royalty, and aristocracy, or were other terms substituted in their place, the hereditary system, if it continued, would not be altered thereby. it would be the same system under any other titulary name as it is now. the character therefore of the revolutions of the present day distinguishes itself most definitively by grounding itself on the system of representative government, in opposition to the hereditary. no other distinction reaches the whole of the principle. having thus opened the case generally, i proceed, in the first place, to examine the hereditary system, because it has the priority in point of time. the representative system is the invention of the modern world; and, that no doubt may arise as to my own opinion, i declare it before hand, which is, _that there is not a problem in euclid more mathematically true, than that hereditary government has not a right to exist. when therefore we take from any man the exercise of hereditary power, we take away that which he never had the right to possess, and which no law or custom could, or ever can, give him a title to_. the arguments that have hitherto been employed against the hereditary system have been chiefly founded upon the absurdity of it, and its incompetency to the purpose of good government. nothing can present to our judgment, or to our imagination, a figure of greater absurdity, than that of seeing the government of a nation fall, as it frequently does, into the hands of a lad necessarily destitute of experience, and often little better than a fool. it is an insult to every man of years, of character, and of talents, in a country. the moment we begin to reason upon the hereditary system, it falls into derision; let but a single idea begin, and a thousand will soon follow. insignificance, imbecility, childhood, dotage, want of moral character; in fine, every defect serious or laughable unite to hold up the hereditary system as a figure of ridicule. leaving, however, the ridiculousness of the thing to the reflections of the reader, i proceed to the more important part of the question, namely, whether such a system has a right to exist. to be satisfied of the right of a thing to exist, we must be satisfied that it had a right to begin. if it had not a right to begin, it has not a right to continue. by what right then did the hereditary system begin? let a man but ask himself this question, and he will find that he cannot satisfy himself with an answer. the right which any man or any family had to set itself up at first to govern a nation, and to establish itself hereditarily, was no other than the right which robespierre had to do the same thing in france. if he had none, they had none. if they had any, he had as much; for it is impossible to discover superiority of right in any family, by virtue of which hereditary government could begin. the capets, the guelphs, the robespierres, the marats, are all on the same standing as to the question of right. it belongs exclusively to none. it is one step towards liberty, to perceive that hereditary government could not begin as an exclusive right in any family. the next point will be, whether, having once begun, it could grow into a right by the influence of time. this would be supposing an absurdity; for either it is putting time in the place of principle, or making it superior to principle; whereas time has no more connection with, or influence upon principle, than principle has upon time. the wrong which began a thousand years ago, is as much a wrong as if it began to-day; and the right which originates to-day, is as much a right as if it had the sanction of a thousand years. time with respect to principles is an eternal now: it has no operation upon them: it changes nothing of their nature and qualities. but what have we to do with a thousand years? our life-time is but a short portion of that period, and if we find the wrong in existence as soon as we begin to live, that is the point of time at which it begins to us; and our right to resist it is the same as if it never existed before. as hereditary government could not begin as a natural right in any family, nor derive after its commencement any right from time, we have only to examine whether there exist in a nation a right to set it up, and establish it by what is called law, as has been done in england. i answer no; and that any law or any constitution made for that purpose is an act of treason against the right of every minor in the nation, at the time it is made, and against the rights of all succeeding generations. i shall speak upon each of those cases. first, of the minor at the time such law is made. secondly, of the generations that are to follow. a nation, in a collective sense, comprehends all the individuals of whatever age, from just born to just dying. of these, one part will be minors, and the other aged. the average of life is not exactly the same in every climate and country, but in general, the minority in years are the majority in numbers; that is, the number of persons under twenty-one years, is greater than the number of persons above that age. this difference in number is not necessary to the establishment of the principle i mean to lay down, but it serves to shew the justice of it more strongly. the principle would be equally as good, if the majority in years were also the majority in numbers. the rights of minors are as sacred as the rights of the aged. the difference is altogether in the different age of the two parties, and nothing in the nature of the rights; the rights are the same rights; and are to be preserved inviolate for the inheritance of the minors when they shall come of age. during the minority of minors their rights are under the sacred guardianship of the aged. the minor cannot surrender them; the guardian cannot dispossess him; consequently, the aged part of a nation, who are the law-makers for the time being, and who, in the march of life are but a few years ahead of those who are yet minors, and to whom they must shortly give place, have not and cannot have the right to make a law to set up and establish hereditary government, or, to speak more distinctly, _an hereditary succession of governors_; because it is an attempt to deprive every minor in the nation, at the time such a law is made, of his inheritance of rights when he shall come of age, and to subjugate him to a system of government to which, during his minority, he could neither consent nor object. if a person who is a minor at the time such a law is proposed, had happened to have been born a few years sooner, so as to be of the age of twenty-one years at the time of proposing it, his right to have objected against it, to have exposed the injustice and tyrannical principles of it, and to have voted against it, will be admitted on all sides. if, therefore, the law operates to prevent his exercising the same rights after he comes of age as he would have had a right to exercise had he been of age at the time, it is undeniably a law to take away and annul the rights of every person in the nation who shall be a minor at the time of making such a law, and consequently the right to make it cannot exist. i come now to speak of government by hereditary succession, as it applies to succeeding generations; and to shew that in this case, as in the case of minors, there does not exist in a nation a right to set it up. a nation, though continually existing, is continually in a state of renewal and succession. it is never stationary. every day produces new births, carries minors forward to maturity, and old persons from the stage. in this ever running flood of generations there is no part superior in authority to another. could we conceive an idea of superiority in any, at what point of time, or in what century of the world, are we to fix it? to what cause are we to ascribe it? by what evidence are we to prove it? by what criterion are we to know it? a single reflection will teach us that our ancestors, like ourselves, were but tenants for life in the great freehold of rights. the fee-absolute was not in them, it is not in us, it belongs to the whole family of man, thro* all ages. if we think otherwise than this, we think either as slaves or as tyrants. as slaves, if we think that any former generation had a right to bind us; as tyrants, if we think that we have authority to bind the generations that are to follow. it may not be inapplicable to the subject, to endeavour to define what is to be understood by a generation, in the sense the word is here used. as a natural term its meaning is sufficiently clear. the father, the son, the grandson, are so many distinct generations. but when we speak of a generation as describing the persons in whom legal authority resides, as distinct from another generation of the same description who are to succeed them, it comprehends all those who are above the age of twenty-one years, at the time that we count from; and a generation of this kind will continue in authority between fourteen and twenty-one years, that is, until the number of minors, who shall have arrived at age, shall be greater than the number of persons remaining of the former stock. for example: if france, at this or any other moment, contains twenty-four millions of souls, twelve millions will be males, and twelve females. of the twelve millions of males, six millions will be of the age of twenty-one years, and six will be under, and the authority to govern will reside in the first six. but every day will make some alteration, and in twenty-one years every one of those minors who survives will have arrived at age, and the greater part of the former stock will be gone: the majority of persons then living, in whom the legal authority resides, will be composed of those who, twenty-one years before, had no legal existence. those will be fathers and grandfathers in their turn, and, in the next twenty-one years, (or less) another race of minors, arrived at age, will succeed them, and so on. as this is ever the case, and as every generation is equal in rights to another, it consequently follows, that there cannot be a right in any to establish government by hereditary succession, because it would be supposing itself possessed of a right superior to the rest, namely, that of commanding by its own authority how the world shall be hereafter governed and who shall govern it. every age and generation is, and must be, (as a matter of right,) as free to act for itself in all cases, as the age and generation that preceded it. the vanity and presumption of governing beyond the grave is the most ridiculous and insolent of all tyrannies. man has no property in man, neither has one generation a property in the generations that are to follow. in the first part of the rights of man i have spoken of government by hereditary succession; and i will here close the subject with an extract from that work, which states it under the two following heads. ( ) the quotation, here omitted, will be found in vol. ii. of this work, beginning with p. , and continuing, with a few omissions, to the th line of p. . this "dissertation" was originally written for circulation in holland, where paine's "rights of man" was not well known.--_editor._ ***** the history of the english parliament furnishes an example of this kind; and which merits to be recorded, as being the greatest instance of legislative ignorance and want of principle that is to be found in any country. the case is as follows: the english parliament of , imported a man and his wife from holland, _william and mary_, and made them king and queen of england. ( ) having done this, the said parliament made a law to convey the government of the country to the heirs of william and mary, in the following words: "we, the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons, do, in the name of the people of england, most humbly and faithfully submit _ourselves, our heirs, and posterities_, to william and mary, _their heirs and posterities_, for ever." and in a subsequent law, as quoted by edmund burke, the said parliament, in the name of the people of england then living, _binds the said people, their heirs and posterities, to william and mary, their heirs and posterities, to the end of time_. "the bill of rights (temp. william iii.) shows that the lords and commons met not in parliament but in convention, that they declared against james ii., and in favour of william iii. the latter was accepted as sovereign, and, when monarch. acta of parliament were passed confirming what had been done."--joseph fisher in notes and queries (london), may , . this does not affect paine's argument, as a convention could have no more right to bind the future than a parliament.--_editor._. it is not sufficient that we laugh at the ignorance of such law-makers; it is necessary that we reprobate their want of principle. the constituent assembly of france, , fell into the same vice as the parliament of england had done, and assumed to establish an hereditary succession in the family of the capets, as an act of the constitution of that year. that every nation, _for the time being_, has a right to govern itself as it pleases, must always be admitted; but government by hereditary succession is government for another race of people, and not for itself; and as those on whom it is to operate are not yet in existence, or are minors, so neither is the right in existence to set it up for them, and to assume such a right is treason against the right of posterity. i here close the arguments on the first head, that of government by hereditary succession; and proceed to the second, that of government by election and representation; or, as it may be concisely expressed, _representative government_, in contra-distinction to _hereditary government_. reasoning by exclusion, if _hereditary government_ has not a right to exist, and that it has not is proveable, _representative government_ is admitted of course. in contemplating government by election and representation, we amuse not ourselves in enquiring when or how, or by what right, it began. its origin is ever in view. man is himself the origin and the evidence of the right. it appertains to him in right of his existence, and his person is the title deed.( ) the true and only true basis of representative government is equality of rights. every man has a right to one vote, and no more, in the choice of representatives. the rich have no more right to exclude the poor from the right of voting, or of electing and being elected, than the poor have to exclude the rich; and wherever it is attempted, or proposed, on either side, it is a question of force and not of right. who is he that would exclude another? that other has a right to exclude him. that which is now called aristocracy implies an inequality of rights; but who are the persons that have a right to establish this inequality? will the rich exclude themselves? no. will the poor exclude themselves? no. by what right then can any be excluded? it would be a question, if any man or class of men have a right to exclude themselves; but, be this as it may, they cannot have the right to exclude another. the poor will not delegate such a right to the rich, nor the rich to the poor, and to assume it is not only to assume arbitrary power, but to assume a right to commit robbery. personal rights, of which the right of voting for representatives is one, are a species of property of the most sacred kind: and he that would employ his pecuniary property, or presume upon the influence it gives him, to dispossess or rob another of his property of rights, uses that pecuniary property as he would use fire-arms, and merits to have it taken from him. "the sacred rights of mankind are not to be rummaged for among old parchments or musty records. they are written as with a sunbeam in the whole volume of human nature by the hand of divinity itself, and can never be erased or obscured by mortal power."--alexander hamilton, . (cf. rights of man, toi. ii., p. ): "portions of antiquity by proving everything establish nothing. it is authority against authority all the way, till we come to the divine origin of the rights of man at the creation."--_editor._. inequality of rights is created by a combination in one part of the community to exclude another part from its rights. whenever it be made an article of a constitution, or a law, that the right of voting, or of electing and being elected, shall appertain exclusively to persons possessing a certain quantity of property, be it little or much, it is a combination of the persons possessing that quantity to exclude those who do not possess the same quantity. it is investing themselves with powers as a self-created part of society, to the exclusion of the rest. it is always to be taken for granted, that those who oppose an equality of rights never mean the exclusion should take place on themselves; and in this view of the case, pardoning the vanity of the thing, aristocracy is a subject of laughter. this self-soothing vanity is encouraged by another idea not less selfish, which is, that the opposers conceive they are playing a safe game, in which there is a chance to gain and none to lose; that at any rate the doctrine of equality includes _them_, and that if they cannot get more rights than those whom they oppose and would exclude, they shall not have less. this opinion has already been fatal to thousands, who, not contented with _equal rights_, have sought more till they lost all, and experienced in themselves the degrading _inequality_ they endeavoured to fix upon others. in any view of the case it is dangerous and impolitic, sometimes ridiculous, and always unjust, to make property the criterion of the right of voting. if the sum or value of the property upon which the right is to take place be considerable, it will exclude a majority of the people, and unite them in a common interest against the government and against those who support it; and as the power is always with the majority, they can overturn such a government and its supporters whenever they please. if, in order to avoid this danger, a small quantity of property be fixed, as the criterion of the right, it exhibits liberty in disgrace, by putting it in competition with accident and insignificance. when a brood-mare shall fortunately produce a foal or a mule that, by being worth the sum in question, shall convey to its owner the right of voting, or by its death take it from him, in whom does the origin of such a right exist? is it in the man, or in the mule? when we consider how many ways property may be acquired without merit, and lost without a crime, we ought to spurn the idea of making it a criterion of rights. but the offensive part of the case is, that this exclusion from the right of voting implies a stigma on the moral char* acter of the persons excluded; and this is what no part of the community has a right to pronounce upon another part. no external circumstance can justify it: wealth is no proof of moral character; nor poverty of the want of it. on the contrary, wealth is often the presumptive evidence of dishonesty; and poverty the negative evidence of innocence. if therefore property, whether little or much, be made a criterion, the means by which that property has been acquired ought to be made a criterion also. the only ground upon which exclusion from the right of voting is consistent with justice, would be to inflict it as a punishment for a certain time upon those who should propose to take away that right from others. the right of voting for representatives is the primary right by which other rights are protected. to take away this right is to reduce a man to slavery, for slavery consists in being subject to the will of another, and he that has not a vote in the election of representatives is in this case. the proposal therefore to disfranchise any class of men is as criminal as the proposal to take away property. when we speak of right, we ought always to unite with it the idea of duties: rights become duties by reciprocity. the right which i enjoy becomes my duty to guarantee it to another, and he to me; and those who violate the duty justly incur a forfeiture of the right. in a political view of the case, the strength and permanent security of government is in proportion to the number of people interested in supporting it. the true policy therefore is to interest the whole by an equality of rights, for the danger arises from exclusions. it is possible to exclude men from the right of voting, but it is impossible to exclude them from the right of rebelling against that exclusion; and when all other rights are taken away, the right of rebellion is made perfect. while men could be persuaded they had no rights, or that rights appertained only to a certain class of men, or that government was a thing existing in right of itself, it was not difficult to govern them authoritatively. the ignorance in which they were held, and the superstition in which they were instructed, furnished the means of doing it. but when the ignorance is gone, and the superstition with it; when they perceive the imposition that has been acted upon them; when they reflect that the cultivator and the manufacturer are the primary means of all the wealth that exists in the world, beyond what nature spontaneously produces; when they begin to feel their consequence by their usefulness, and their right as members of society, it is then no longer possible to govern them as before. the fraud once detected cannot be re-acted. to attempt it is to provoke derision, or invite destruction. that property will ever be unequal is certain. industry, superiority of talents, dexterity of management, extreme frugality, fortunate opportunities, or the opposite, or the means of those things, will ever produce that effect, without having recourse to the harsh, ill sounding names of avarice and oppression; and besides this, there are some men who, though they do not despise wealth, will not stoop to the drudgery or the means of acquiring it, nor will be troubled with it beyond their wants or their independence; whilst in others there is an avidity to obtain it by every means not punishable; it makes the sole business of their lives, and they follow it as a religion. all that is required with respect to property is to obtain it honestly, and not employ it criminally; but it is always criminally employed when it is made a criterion for exclusive rights. in institutions that are purely pecuniary, such as that of a bank or a commercial company, the rights of the members composing that company are wholly created by the property they invest therein; and no other rights are represented in the government of that company, than what arise out of that property; neither has that government cognizance of _any thing but property_. but the case is totally different with respect to the institution of civil government, organized on the system of representation. such a government has cognizance of every thing, and of _every man_ as a member of the national society, whether he has property or not; and, therefore, the principle requires that _every man_, and _every kind of right_, be represented, of which the right to acquire and to hold property is but one, and that not of the most essential kind. the protection of a man's person is more sacred than the protection of property; and besides this, the faculty of performing any kind of work or services by which he acquires a livelihood, or maintaining his family, is of the nature of property. it is property to him; he has acquired it; and it is as much the object of his protection as exterior property, possessed without that faculty, can be the object of protection in another person. i have always believed that the best security for property, be it much or little, is to remove from every part of the community, as far as can possibly be done, every cause of complaint, and every motive to violence; and this can only be done by an equality of rights. when rights are secure, property is secure in consequence. but when property is made a pretence for unequal or exclusive rights, it weakens the right to hold the property, and provokes indignation and tumult; for it is unnatural to believe that property can be secure under the guarantee of a society injured in its rights by the influence of that property. next to the injustice and ill-policy of making property a pretence for exclusive rights, is the unaccountable absurdity of giving to mere _sound_ the idea of property, and annexing to it certain rights; for what else is a _title_ but sound? nature is often giving to the world some extraordinary men who arrive at fame by merit and universal consent, such as aristotle, socrates, plato, &c. they were truly great or noble. but when government sets up a manufactory of nobles, it is as absurd as if she undertook to manufacture wise men. her nobles are all counterfeits. this wax-work order has assumed the name of aristocracy; and the disgrace of it would be lessened if it could be considered only as childish imbecility. we pardon foppery because of its insignificance» and on the same ground we might pardon the foppery of titles. but the origin of aristocracy was worse than foppery. it was robbery. the first aristocrats in all countries were brigands. those of later times, sycophants. it is very well known that in england, (and the same will be found in other countries) the great landed estates now held in descent were plundered from the quiet inhabitants at the conquest. the possibility did not exist of acquiring such estates honestly. if it be asked how they could have been acquired, no answer but that of robbery can be given. that they were not acquired by trade, by commerce, by manufactures, by agriculture, or by any reputable employment, is certain. how then were they acquired? blush, aristocracy, to hear your origin, for your progenitors were thieves. they were the robespierres and the jacobins of that day. when they had committed the robbery, they endeavoured to lose the disgrace of it by sinking their real names under fictitious ones, which they called titles. it is ever the practice of felons to act in this manner. they never pass by their real names.( ) this and the preceding paragraph have been omitted from some editions.--editor. as property, honestly obtained, is best secured by an equality of rights, so ill-gotten property depends for protection on a monopoly of rights. he who has robbed another of his property, will next endeavour to disarm him of his rights, to secure that property; for when the robber becomes the legislator he believes himself secure. that part of the government of england that is called the house of lords, was originally composed of persons who had committed the robberies of which i have been speaking. it was an association for the protection of the property they had stolen. but besides the criminality of the origin of aristocracy, it has an injurious effect on the moral and physical character of man. like slavery it debilitates the human faculties; for as the mind bowed down by slavery loses in silence its elastic powers, so, in the contrary extreme, when it is buoyed up by folly, it becomes incapable of exerting them, and dwindles into imbecility. it is impossible that a mind employed upon ribbands and titles can ever be great. the childishness of the objects consumes the man. it is at all times necessary, and more particularly so during the progress of a revolution, and until right ideas confirm themselves by habit, that we frequently refresh our patriotism by reference to first principles. it is by tracing things to their origin that we learn to understand them: and it is by keeping that line and that origin always in view that we never forget them. an enquiry into the origin of rights will demonstrate to us that _rights_ are not _gifts_ from one man to another, nor from one class of men to another; for who is he who could be the first giver, or by what principle, or on what authority, could he possess the right of giving? a declaration of rights is not a creation of them, nor a donation of them. it is a manifest of the principle by which they exist, followed by a detail of what the rights are; for every civil right has a natural right for its foundation, and it includes the principle of a reciprocal guarantee of those rights from man to man. as, therefore, it is impossible to discover any origin of rights otherwise than in the origin of man, it consequently follows, that rights appertain to man in right of his existence only, and must therefore be equal to every man. the principle of an _equality of rights_ is clear and simple. every man can understand it, and it is by understanding his rights that he learns his duties; for where the rights of men are equal, every man must finally see the necessity of protecting the rights of others as the most effectual security for his own. but if, in the formation of a constitution, we depart from the principle of equal rights, or attempt any modification of it, we plunge into a labyrinth of difficulties from which there is no way out but by retreating. where are we to stop? or by what principle are we to find out the point to stop at, that shall discriminate between men of the same country, part of whom shall be free, and the rest not? if property is to be made the criterion, it is a total departure from every moral principle of liberty, because it is attaching rights to mere matter, and making man the agent of that matter. it is, moreover, holding up property as an apple of discord, and not only exciting but justifying war against it; for i maintain the principle, that when property is used as an instrument to take away the rights of those who may happen not to possess property, it is used to an unlawful purpose, as fire-arms would be in a similar case. in a state of nature all men are equal in rights, but they are not equal in power; the weak cannot protect themselves against the strong. this being the case, the institution of civil society is for the purpose of making an equalization of powers that shall be parallel to, and a guarantee of, the equality of rights. the laws of a country, when properly constructed, apply to this purpose. every man takes the arm of the law for his protection as more effectual than his own; and therefore every man has an equal right in the formation of the government, and of the laws by which he is to be governed and judged. in extensive countries and societies, such as america and france, this right in the individual can only be exercised by delegation, that is, by election and representation; and hence it is that the institution of representative government arises. hitherto, i have confined myself to matters of principle only. first, that hereditary government has not a right to exist; that it cannot be established on any principle of right; and that it is a violation of all principle. secondly, that government by election and representation has its origin in the natural and eternal rights of man; for whether a man be his own lawgiver, as he would be in a state of nature; or whether he exercises his portion of legislative sovereignty in his own person, as might be the case in small democracies where all could assemble for the formation of the laws by which they were to be governed; or whether he exercises it in the choice of persons to represent him in a national assembly of representatives, the origin of the right is the same in all cases. the first, as is before observed, is defective in power; the second, is practicable only in democracies of small extent; the third, is the greatest scale upon which human government can be instituted. next to matters of _principle_ are matters of _opinion_, and it is necessary to distinguish between the two. whether the rights of men shall be equal is not a matter of opinion but of right, and consequently of principle; for men do not hold their rights as grants from each other, but each one in right of himself. society is the guardian but not the giver. and as in extensive societies, such as america and france, the right of the individual in matters of government cannot be exercised but by election and representation, it consequently follows that the only system of government consistent with principle, where simple democracy is impracticable, is the representative system. but as to the organical part, or the manner in which the several parts of government shall be arranged and composed, it is altogether _matter of opinion_, it is necessary that all the parts be conformable with the _principle of equal rights_; and so long as this principle be religiously adhered to, no very material error can take place, neither can any error continue long in that part which falls within the province of opinion. in all matters of opinion, the social compact, or the principle by which society is held together, requires that the majority of opinions becomes the rule for the whole, and that the minority yields practical obedience thereto. this is perfectly conformable to the principle of equal rights: for, in the first place, every man has a _right to give an opinion_ but no man has a right that his opinion should _govern the rest_. in the second place, it is not supposed to be known beforehand on which side of any question, whether for or against, any man's opinion will fall. he may happen to be in a majority upon some questions, and in a minority upon others; and by the same rule that he expects obedience in the one case, he must yield it in the other. all the disorders that have arisen in france, during the progress of the revolution, have had their origin, not in the _principle of equal rights_, but in the violation of that principle. the principle of equal rights has been repeatedly violated, and that not by the majority but by the minority, and _that minority has been composed of men possessing property as well as of men without property; property, therefore, even upon the experience already had, is no more a criterion of character than it is of rights_. it will sometimes happen that the minority are right, and the majority are wrong, but as soon as experience proves this to be the case, the minority will increase to a majority, and the error will reform itself by the tranquil operation of freedom of opinion and equality of rights. nothing, therefore, can justify an insurrection, neither can it ever be necessary where rights are equal and opinions free. taking then the principle of equal rights as the foundation of the revolution, and consequently of the constitution, the organical part, or the manner in which the several parts of the government shall be arranged in the constitution, will, as is already said, fall within the province of opinion. various methods will present themselves upon a question of this kind, and tho' experience is yet wanting to determine which is the best, it has, i think, sufficiently decided which is the worst. that is the worst, which in its deliberations and decisions is subject to the precipitancy and passion of an individual; and when the whole legislature is crowded into one body it is an individual in mass. in all cases of deliberation it is necessary to have a corps of reserve, and it would be better to divide the representation by lot into two parts, and let them revise and correct each other, than that the whole should sit together, and debate at once. representative government is not necessarily confined to any one particular form. the principle is the same in all the forms under which it can be arranged. the equal rights of the people is the root from which the whole springs, and the branches may be arranged as present opinion or future experience shall best direct. as to that _hospital of incurables_ (as chesterfield calls it), the british house of peers, it is an excrescence growing out of corruption; and there is no more affinity or resemblance between any of the branches of a legislative body originating from the right of the people, and the aforesaid house of peers, than between a regular member of the human body and an ulcerated wen. as to that part of government that is called the _executive_, it is necessary in the first place to fix a precise meaning to the word. there are but two divisions into which power can be arranged. first, that of willing or decreeing the laws; secondly, that of executing or putting them in practice. the former corresponds to the intellectual faculties of the human mind, which reasons and determines what shall be done; the second, to the mechanical powers of the human body, that puts that determination into practice.( ) if the former decides, and the latter does not perform, it is a state of imbecility; and if the latter acts without the predetermination of the former, it is a state of lunacy. the executive department therefore is official, and is subordinate to the legislative, as the body is to the mind, in a state of health; for it is impossible to conceive the idea of two sovereignties, a sovereignty to _will_, and a sovereignty to _act_. the executive is not invested with the power of deliberating whether it shall act or not; it has no discretionary authority in the case; for it can _act no other thing_ than what the laws decree, and it is _obliged_ to act conformably thereto; and in this view of the case, the executive is made up of all the official departments that execute the laws, of which that which is called the judiciary is the chief. paine may have had in mind the five senses, with reference to the proposed five members of the directory.--_editor._. but mankind have conceived an idea that _some kind of authority_ is necessary to _superintend_ the execution of the laws and to see that they are faithfully performed; and it is by confounding this superintending authority with the official execution that we get embarrassed about the term _executive power_. all the parts in the governments of the united states of america that are called the executive, are no other than authorities to superintend the execution of the laws; and they are so far independent of the legislative, that they know the legislative only thro' the laws, and cannot be controuled or directed by it through any other medium. in what manner this superintending authority shall be appointed, or composed, is a matter that falls within the province of opinion. some may prefer one method and some another; and in all cases, where opinion only and not principle is concerned, the majority of opinions forms the rule for all. there are however some things deducible from reason, and evidenced by experience, that serve to guide our decision upon the case. the one is, never to invest any individual with extraordinary power; for besides his being tempted to misuse it, it will excite contention and commotion in the nation for the office. secondly, never to invest power long in the hands of any number of individuals. the inconveniences that may be supposed to accompany frequent changes are less to be feared than the danger that arises from long continuance. i shall conclude this discourse with offering some observations on the means of _preserving liberty_; for it is not only necessary that we establish it, but that we preserve it. it is, in the first place, necessary that we distinguish between the means made use of to overthrow despotism, in order to prepare the way for the establishment of liberty, and the means to be used after the despotism is overthrown. the means made use of in the first case are justified by necessity. those means are, in general, insurrections; for whilst the established government of despotism continues in any country it is scarcely possible that any other means can be used. it is also certain that in the commencement of a revolution, the revolutionary party permit to themselves a _discretionary exercise of power_ regulated more by circumstances than by principle, which, were the practice to continue, liberty would never be established, or if established would soon be overthrown. it is never to be expected in a revolution that every man is to change his opinion at the same moment. there never yet was any truth or any principle so irresistibly obvious, that all men believed it at once. time and reason must co-operate with each other to the final establishment of any principle; and therefore those who may happen to be first convinced have not a right to persecute others, on whom conviction operates more slowly. the moral principle of revolutions is to instruct, not to destroy. had a constitution been established two years ago, (as ought to have been done,) the violences that have since desolated france and injured the character of the revolution, would, in my opinion, have been prevented.( ) the nation would then have had a bond of union, and every individual would have known the line of conduct he was to follow. but, instead of this, a revolutionary government, a thing without either principle or authority, was substituted in its place; virtue and crime depended upon accident; and that which was patriotism one day, became treason the next. all these things have followed from the want of a constitution; for it is the nature and intention of a constitution to _prevent governing by party_, by establishing a common principle that shall limit and control the power and impulse of party, and that says to all parties, _thus far shalt thou go and no further_. but in the absence of a constitution, men look entirely to party; and instead of principle governing party, party governs principle. the constitution adopted august , , was by the determination of "the mountain," suspended during the war against france. the revolutionary government was thus made chronic--_editor._ an avidity to punish is always dangerous to liberty. it leads men to stretch, to misinterpret, and to misapply even the best of laws. he that would make his own liberty secure, must guard even his enemy from oppression; for if he violates this duty, he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself. thomas paine. paris, july, . xxv. the constitution of . speech in the french national convention, july , . on the motion of lanthenas, "that permission be granted to thomas paine, to deliver his sentiments on the declaration of rights and the constitution," thomas paine ascended the tribune; and no opposition being made to the motion, one of the secretaries, who stood by mr. paine, read his speech, of which the following is a literal translation: citizens: the effects of a malignant fever, with which i was afflicted during a rigorous confinement in the luxembourg, have thus long prevented me from attending at my post in the bosom of the convention, and the magnitude of the subject under discussion, and no other consideration on earth, could induce me now to repair to my station. a recurrence to the vicissitudes i have experienced, and the critical situations in which i have been placed in consequence of the french revolution, will throw upon what i now propose to submit to the convention the most unequivocal proofs of my integrity, and the rectitude of those principles which have uniformly influenced my conduct. in england i was proscribed for having vindicated the french revolution, and i have suffered a rigorous imprisonment in france for having pursued a similar mode of conduct. during the reign of terrorism, i was a close prisoner for eight long months, and remained so above three months after the era of the th thermidor.( ) i ought, however, to state, that i was not persecuted by the _people_ either of england or france. the proceedings in both countries were the effects of the despotism existing in their respective governments. but, even if my persecution had originated in the people at large, my principles and conduct would still have remained the same. principles which are influenced and subject to the controul of tyranny, have not their foundation in the heart. by the french republican calendar this was nearly the time. paine's imprisonment lasted from december , , to november , . he was by a unanimous vote recalled to the convention, dec , , but his first appearance there was on july , .--_editor._, a few days ago, i transmitted to you by the ordinary mode of distribution, a short treatise, entitled "dissertation on the first principles of government." this little work i did intend to have dedicated to the people of holland, who, about the time i began to write it, were determined to accomplish a revolution in their government, rather than to the people of france, who had long before effected that glorious object. but there are, in the constitution which is about to be ratified by the convention certain articles, and in the report which preceded it certain points, so repugnant to reason, and incompatible with the true principles of liberty, as to render this treatise, drawn up for another purpose, applicable to the present occasion, and under this impression i presumed to submit it to your consideration. if there be faults in the constitution, it were better to expunge them now, than to abide the event of their mischievous tendency; for certain it is, that the plan of the constitution which has been presented to you is not consistent with the grand object of the revolution, nor congenial to the sentiments of the individuals who accomplished it. to deprive half the people in a nation of their rights as citizens, is an easy matter in theory or on paper: but it is a most dangerous experiment, and rarely practicable in the execution. i shall now proceed to the observations i have to offer on this important subject; and i pledge myself that they shall be neither numerous nor diffusive. in my apprehension, a constitution embraces two distinct parts or objects, the _principle_ and the _practice_; and it is not only an essential but an indispensable provision that the practice should emanate from, and accord with, the principle. now i maintain, that the reverse of this proposition is the case in the plan of the constitution under discussion. the first article, for instance, of the _political state_ of citizens, (v. title ii. of the constitution,) says: "every man born and resident in france, who, being twenty-one years of age, has inscribed his name on the civic register of his canton, and who has lived afterwards one year on the territory of the republic, and who pays any direct contribution whatever, real or personal, is a french citizen." ( ) the article as ultimately adopted substituted "person" for "man," and for "has inscribed his name" (a slight educational test) inserted "whose name is inscribed."-- _editor._ i might here ask, if those only who come under the above description are to be considered as citizens, what designation do you mean to give the rest of the people? i allude to that portion of the people on whom the principal part of the labour falls, and on whom the weight of indirect taxation will in the event chiefly press. in the structure of the social fabric, this class of people are infinitely superior to that privileged order whose only qualification is their wealth or territorial possessions. for what is trade without merchants? what is land without cultivation? and what is the produce of the land without manufactures? but to return to the subject. in the first place, this article is incompatible with the three first articles of the declaration of rights, which precede the constitutional act. the first article of the declaration of rights says: "the end of society is the public good; and the institution of government is to secure to every individual the enjoyment of his rights." but the article of the constitution to which i have just adverted proposes as the object of society, not the public good, or in other words, the good of _all_, but a partial good; or the good only of a _few_; and the constitution provides solely for the rights of this few, to the exclusion of the many. the second article of the declaration of rights says: "the rights of man in society are liberty, equality, security of his person and property." but the article alluded to in the constitution has a direct tendency to establish the reverse of this position, inasmuch as the persons excluded by this _inequality_ can neither be said to possess liberty, nor security against oppression. they are consigned totally to the caprice and tyranny of the rest. the third article of the declaration of rights says: "liberty consists in such acts of volition as are not injurious to others." but the article of the constitution, on which i have observed, breaks down this barrier. it enables the liberty of one part of society to destroy the freedom of the other. having thus pointed out the inconsistency of this article to the declaration of rights, i shall proceed to comment on that of the same article which makes a direct contribution a necessary qualification to the right of citizenship. a modern refinement on the object of public revenue has divided the taxes, or contributions, into two classes, the _direct_ and the_ indirect_, without being able to define precisely the distinction or difference between them, because the effect of both is the same. those are designated indirect taxes which fall upon the consumers of certain articles, on which the tax is imposed, because, the tax being included in the price, the consumer pays it without taking notice of it. the same observation is applicable to the territorial tax. the land proprietors, in order to reimburse themselves, will rack-rent their tenants: the farmer, of course, will transfer the obligation to the miller, by enhancing the price of grain; the miller to the baker, by increasing the price of flour; and the baker to the consumer, by raising the price of bread. the territorial tax, therefore, though called _direct_, is, in its consequences, _indirect_. to this tax the land proprietor contributes only in proportion to the quantity of bread and other provisions that are consumed in his own family. the deficit is furnished by the great mass of the community, which comprehends every individual of the nation. from the logical distinction between the direct and in-direct taxation, some emolument may result, i allow, to auditors of public accounts, &c., but to the people at large i deny that such a distinction (which by the by is without a difference) can be productive of any practical benefit. it ought not, therefore, to be admitted as a principle in the constitution. besides this objection, the provision in question does not affect to define, secure, or establish the right of citizenship. it consigns to the caprice or discretion of the legislature the power of pronouncing who shall, or shall not, exercise the functions of a citizen; and this may be done effectually, either by the imposition of a _direct or indirect_ tax, according to the selfish views of the legislators, or by the mode of collecting the taxes so imposed. neither a tenant who occupies an extensive farm, nor a merchant or manufacturer who may have embarked a large capital in their respective pursuits, can ever, according to this system, attain the preemption of a citizen. on the other hand, any upstart, who has, by succession or management, got possession of a few acres of land or a miserable tenement, may exultingly exercise the functions of a citizen, although perhaps neither possesses a hundredth part of the worth or property of a simple mechanic, nor contributes in any proportion to the exigencies of the state. the contempt in which the old government held mercantile pursuits, and the obloquy that attached on merchants and manufacturers, contributed not a little to its embarrassments, and its eventual subversion; and, strange to tell, though the mischiefs arising from this mode of conduct are so obvious, yet an article is proposed for your adoption which has a manifest tendency to restore a defect inherent in the monarchy. i shall now proceed to the second article of the same title, with which i shall conclude my remarks. the second article says, "every french soldier, who shall have served one or more campaigns in the cause of liberty, is deemed a citizen of the republic, without any respect or reference to other qualifications."( ) it would seem, that in this article the committee were desirous of extricating themselves from a dilemma into which they had been plunged by the preceding article. when men depart from an established principle they are compelled to resort to trick and subterfuge, always shifting their means to preserve the unity of their objects; and as it rarely happens that the first expedient makes amends for the prostitution of principle, they must call in aid a second, of a more flagrant nature, to supply the deficiency of the former. in this manner legislators go on accumulating error upon error, and artifice upon artifice, until the mass becomes so bulky and incongruous, and their embarrassment so desperate, that they are compelled, as their last expedient, to resort to the very principle they had violated. the committee were precisely in this predicament when they framed this article; and to me, i confess, their conduct appears specious rather than efficacious.( ) this article eventually stood: "all frenchmen who shall have made one or more campaigns for the establishment of the republic, are citizens, without condition as to taxes."-- _editor._ the head of the committee (eleven) was the abbé sieves, whose political treachery was well known to paine before it became known to the world by his services to napoleon in overthrowing the republic.--_editor._ it was not for himself alone, but for his family, that the french citizen, at the dawn of the revolution, (for then indeed every man was considered a citizen) marched soldier-like to the frontiers, and repelled a foreign invasion. he had it not in his contemplation, that he should enjoy liberty for the residue of his earthly career, and by his own act preclude his offspring from that inestimable blessing. no! he wished to leave it as an inheritance to his children, and that they might hand it down to their latest posterity. if a frenchman, who united in his person the character of a soldier and a citizen, was now to return from the army to his peaceful habitation, he must address his small family in this manner: "sorry i am, that i cannot leave to you a small portion of what i have acquired by exposing my person to the ferocity of our enemies and defeating their machinations. i have established the republic, and, painful the reflection, all the laurels which i have won in the field are blasted, and all the privileges to which my exertions have entitled me extend not beyond the period of my own existence!" thus the measure that has been adopted by way of subterfuge falls short of what the framers of it speculated upon; for in conciliating the affections of the _soldier_, they have subjected the _father_ to the most pungent sensations, by obliging him to adopt a generation of slaves. citizens, a great deal has been urged respecting insurrections. i am confident that no man has a greater abhorrence of them than myself, and i am sorry that any insinuations should have been thrown out upon me as a promoter of violence of any kind. the whole tenor of my life and conversation gives the lie to those calumnies, and proves me to be a friend to order, truth and justice. i hope you will attribute this effusion of my sentiments to my anxiety for the honor and success of the revolution. i have no interest distinct from that which has a tendency to meliorate the situation of mankind. the revolution, as far as it respects myself, has been productive of more loss and persecution than it is possible for me to describe, or for you to indemnify. but with respect to the subject under consideration, i could not refrain from declaring my sentiments. in my opinion, if you subvert the basis of the revolution, if you dispense with principles, and substitute expedients, you will extinguish that enthusiasm and energy which have hitherto been the life and soul of the revolution; and you will substitute in its place nothing but a cold indifference and self-interest, which will again degenerate into intrigue, cunning, and effeminacy. but to discard all considerations of a personal and subordinate nature, it is essential to the well-being of the republic that the practical or organic part of the constitution should correspond with its principles; and as this does not appear to be the case in the plan that has been presented to you, it is absolutely necessary that it should be submitted to the revision of a committee, who should be instructed to compare it with the declaration of rights, in order to ascertain the difference between the two, and to make such alterations as shall render them perfectly consistent and compatible with each other. xxvi. the decline and fall of the english system of finance.( ) "on the verge, nay even in the gulph of bankruptcy." this pamphlet, as paine predicts at its close (no doubt on good grounds), was translated into all languages of europe, and probably hastened the gold suspension of the bank of england ( ), which it predicted. the british government entrusted its reply to ralph broome and george chalmers, who wrote pamphlets. there is in the french archives an order for copies, april , , nineteen days after paine's pamphlet appeared. "mr. cobbett has made this little pamphlet a text-book for most of his elaborate treatises on our finances.... on the authority of a late register of mr. cobbett's i learn that the profits arising from the sale of this pamphlet were devoted [by paine] to the relief of the prisoners confined in newgate for debt."--"life of paine," by richard carlile, .--_editor._. debates in parliament. nothing, they say, is more certain than death, and nothing more uncertain than the time of dying; yet we can always fix a period beyond which man cannot live, and within some moment of which he will die. we are enabled to do this, not by any spirit of prophecy, or foresight into the event, but by observation of what has happened in all cases of human or animal existence. if then any other subject, such, for instance, as a system of finance, exhibits in its progress a series of symptoms indicating decay, its final dissolution is certain, and the period of it can be calculated from the symptoms it exhibits. those who have hitherto written on the english system of finance, (the funding system,) have been uniformly impressed with the idea that its downfall would happen _some time or other_. they took, however, no data for their opinion, but expressed it predictively,--or merely as opinion, from a conviction that the perpetual duration of such a system was a natural impossibility. it is in this manner that dr. price has spoken of it; and smith, in his wealth of nations, has spoken in the same manner; that is, merely as opinion without data. "the progress," says smith, "of the enormous debts, which at present oppress, and will in the long run _most probably ruin_, all the great nations of europe [he should have said _governments_] has been pretty uniform." but this general manner of speaking, though it might make some impression, carried with it no conviction. it is not my intention to predict any thing; but i will show from data already known, from symptoms and facts which the english funding system has already exhibited publicly, that it will not continue to the end of mr. pitt's life, supposing him to live the usual age of a man. how much sooner it may fall, i leave to others to predict. let financiers diversify systems of credit as they will, it _is_ nevertheless true, that every system of credit is a system of paper money. two experiments have already been had upon paper money; the one in america, the other in france. in both those cases the whole capital was emitted, and that whole capital, which in america was called continental money, and in france assignats, appeared in circulation; the consequence of which was, that the quantity became so enormous, and so disproportioned to the quantity of population, and to the quantity' of objects upon which it could be employed, that the market, if i may so express it, was glutted with it, and the value of it fell. between five and six years determined the fate of those experiments. the same fate would have happened to gold and silver, could gold and silver have been issued in the same abundant manner that paper had been, and confined within the country as paper money always is, by having no circulation out of it; or, to speak on a larger scale, the same thing would happen in the world, could the world be glutted with gold and silver, as america and france have been with paper. the english system differs from that of america and france in this one particular, that its capital is kept out of sight; that is, it does not appear in circulation. were the whole capital of the national debt, which at the time i write this is almost one hundred million pounds sterling, to be emitted in assignats or bills, and that whole quantity put into circulation, as was done in america and in france, those english assignats, or bills, would soon sink in value as those of america and france have done; and that in a greater degree, because the quantity of them would be more disproportioned to the quantity of population in england, than was the case in either of the other two countries. a nominal pound sterling in such bills would not be worth one penny. but though the english system, by thus keeping the capital out of sight, is preserved from hasty destruction, as in the case of america and france, it nevertheless approaches the same fate, and will arrive at it with the same certainty, though by a slower progress. the difference is altogether in the degree of speed by which the two systems approach their fate, which, to speak in round numbers, is as twenty is to one; that is, the english system, that of funding the capital instead of issuing it, contained within itself a capacity of enduring twenty times longer than the systems adopted by america and france; and at the end of that time it would arrive at the same common grave, the potter's field of paper money. the datum, i take for this proportion of twenty to one, is the difference between a capital and the interest at five per cent. twenty times the interest is equal to the capital. the accumulation of paper money in england is in proportion to the accumulation of the interest upon every new loan; and therefore the progress to the dissolution is twenty times slower than if the capital were to be emitted and put into circulation immediately. every twenty years in the english system is equal to one year in the french and american systems. having thus stated the duration of the two systems, that of funding upon interest, and that of emitting the whole capital without funding, to be as twenty to one, i come to examine the symptoms of decay, approaching to dissolution, that the english system has already exhibited, and to compare them with similar systems in the french and american systems. the english funding system began one hundred years ago; in which time there have been six wars, including the war that ended in . . the war that ended, as i have just said, in . . the war that began in . . the war that began in . . the war that began in . . the american war, that began in . . the present war, that began in . the national debt, at the conclusion of the war which ended in , was twenty-one millions and an half. (see smith's wealth of nations, chapter on public debts.) we now see it approaching fast to four hundred millions. if between these two extremes of twenty-one millions and four hundred millions, embracing the several expenses of all the including wars, there exist some common ratio that will ascertain arithmetically the amount of the debts at the end of each war, as certainly as the fact is known to be, that ratio will in like manner determine what the amount of the debt will be in all future wars, and will ascertain the period within which the funding system will expire in a bankruptcy of the government; for the ratio i allude to, is the ratio which the nature of the thing has established for itself. hitherto no idea has been entertained that any such ratio existed, or could exist, that would determine a problem of this kind; that is, that would ascertain, without having any knowledge of the fact, what the expense of any former war had been, or what the expense of any future war would be; but it is nevertheless true that such a ratio does exist, as i shall show, and also the mode of applying it. the ratio i allude to is not in arithmetical progression like the numbers , , , , , , , ; nor yet in geometrical progression, like the numbers , , , , , , , ; but it is in the series of one half upon each preceding number; like the numbers , , , , , , , . any person can perceive that the second number, , is produced by the preceding number, , and half ; and that the third number, , is in like manner produced by the preceding number, , and half ; and so on for the rest. they can also see how rapidly the sums increase as the ratio proceeds. the difference between the two first numbers is but four; but the difference between the two last is forty-five; and from thence they may see with what immense rapidity the national debt has increased, and will continue to increase, till it exceeds the ordinary powers of calculation, and loses itself in ciphers. i come now to apply the ratio as a rule to determine in all cases. i began with the war that ended in , which was the war in which the funding system began. the expense of that war was twenty-one millions and an half. in order to ascertain the expense of the next war, i add to twenty-one millions and an half, the half thereof (ten millions and three quarters) which makes thirty-two millions and a quarter for the expense of that war. this thirty-two millions and a quarter, added to the former debt of twenty-one millions and an half, carries the national debt to fifty-three millions and three quarters. smith, in his chapter on public debts, says, that the national debt was at this time fifty-three millions. i proceed to ascertain the expense of the next war, that of , by adding, as in the former case, one half to the expense of the preceding war. the expense of the preceding war was thirty-two millions and a quarter; for the sake of even numbers, say, thirty-two millions; the half of which ( ) makes forty-eight millions for the expense of that war. i proceed to ascertain the expense of the war of , by adding, according to the ratio, one half to the expense of the preceding war. the expense of the preceding was taken at millions, the half of which ( ) makes millions for the expense of that war. smith, (chapter on public debts,) says, the expense of the war of , was millions and a quarter. i proceed to ascertain the expense of the american war, of , by adding, as in the former cases, one half to the expense of the preceding war. the expense of the preceding war was millions, the half of which ( ) makes millions for the expense of that war. in the last edition of smith, (chapter on public debts,) he says, the expense of the american war was _more than an hundred millions_. i come now to ascertain the expense of the present war, supposing it to continue as long as former wars have done, and the funding system not to break up before that period. the expense of the preceding war was millions, the half of which ( ) makes millions for the expense of the present war. it gives symptoms of going beyond this sum, supposing the funding system not to break up; for the loans of the last year and of the present year are twenty-two millions each, which exceeds the ratio compared with the loans of the preceding war. it will not be from the inability of procuring loans that the system will break up. on the contrary, it is the facility with which loans can be procured that hastens that event. the loans are altogether paper transactions; and it is the excess of them that brings on, with accelerating speed, that progressive depreciation of funded paper money that will dissolve the funding system. i proceed to ascertain the expense of future wars, and i do this merely to show the impossibility of the continuance of the funding system, and the certainty of its dissolution. the expense of the next war after the present war, according to the ratio that has ascertained the preceding cases, will be millions. expense of the second war ---------------- third war ---------------- fourth war -------- fifth war millions; which, at only four per cent. will require taxes to the nominal amount of one hundred and twenty-eight millions to pay the annual interest, besides the interest of the present debt, and the expenses of government, which are not included in this account. is there a man so mad, so stupid, as to sup-pose this system can continue? when i first conceived the idea of seeking for some common ratio that should apply as a rule of measurement to all the cases of the funding system, so far as to ascertain the several stages of its approach to dissolution, i had no expectation that any ratio could be found that would apply with so much exactness as this does. i was led to the idea merely by observing that the funding system was a thing in continual progression, and that whatever was in a state of progression might be supposed to admit of, at least, some general ratio of measurement, that would apply without any very great variation. but who could have supposed that falling systems, or falling opinions, admitted of a ratio apparently as true as the descent of falling bodies? i have not made the ratio any more than newton made the ratio of gravitation. i have only discovered it, and explained the mode of applying it. to shew at one view the rapid progression of the funding system to destruction, and to expose the folly of those who blindly believe in its continuance, and who artfully endeavour to impose that belief upon others, i exhibit in the annexed table, the expense of each of the six wars since the funding system began, as ascertained by ratio, and the expense of the six wars yet to come, ascertained by the same ratio. [illustration: table ] * the actual expense of the war of did not come up to the sum ascertained by the ratio. but as that which is the natural disposition of a thing, as it is the natural disposition of a stream of water to descend, will, if impeded in its course, overcome by a new effort what it had lost by that impediment, so it was with respect to this war and the next ( ) taken collectively; for the expense of the war of restored the equilibrium of the ratio, as fully as if it had not been impeded. a circumstance that serves to prove the truth of the ratio more folly than if the interruption had not taken place. the war of *** languid; the efforts were below the value of money et that time; for the ratio is the measure of the depreciation of money in consequence of the funding system; or what comes to the same end, it is the measure of the increase of paper. every additional quantity of it, whether in bank notes or otherwise, diminishes the real, though not the nominal value of the former quantity.--_author_ those who are acquainted with the power with which even a small ratio, acting in progression, multiplies in a long series, will see nothing to wonder at in this table. those who are not acquainted with that subject, and not knowing what else to say, may be inclined to deny it. but it is not their opinion one way, nor mine the other, that can influence the event. the table exhibits the natural march of the funding system to its irredeemable dissolution. supposing the present government of england to continue, and to go on as it has gone on since the funding system began, i would not give twenty shillings for one hundred pounds in the funds to be paid twenty years hence. i do not speak this predictively; i produce the data upon which that belief is founded; and which data it is every body's interest to know, who have any thing to do with the funds, or who are going to bequeath property to their descendants to be paid at a future day. perhaps it may be asked, that as governments or ministers proceeded by no ratio in making loans or incurring debts, and nobody intended any ratio, or thought of any, how does it happen that there is one? i answer, that the ratio is founded in necessity; and i now go to explain what that necessity is. it will always happen, that the price of labour, or of the produce of labour, be that produce what it may, will be in proportion to the quantity of money in a country, admitting things to take their natural course. before the invention of the funding system, there was no other money than gold and silver; and as nature gives out those metals with a sparing hand, and in regular annual quantities from the mines, the several prices of things were proportioned to the quantity of money at that time, and so nearly stationary as to vary but little in any fifty or sixty years of that period. when the funding system began, a substitute for gold and silver began also. that substitute was paper; and the quantity increased as the quantity of interest increased upon accumulated loans. this appearance of a new and additional species of money in the nation soon began to break the relative value which money and the things it will purchase bore to each other before. every thing rose in price; but the rise at first was little and slow, like the difference in units between two first numbers, and , compared with the two last numbers and , in the table. it was however sufficient to make itself considerably felt in a large transaction. when therefore government, by engaging in a new war, required a new loan, it was obliged to make a higher loan than the former loan, to balance the increased price to which things had risen; and as that new loan increased the quantity of paper in proportion to the new quantity of interest, it carried the price of things still higher than before. the next loan was again higher, to balance that further increased price; and all this in the same manner, though not in the same degree, that every new emission of continental money in america, or of assignats in france, was greater than the preceding emission, to make head against the advance of prices, till the combat could be maintained no longer. herein is founded the necessity of which i have just spoken. that necessity proceeds with accelerating velocity, and the ratio i have laid down is the measure of that acceleration; or, to speak the technical language of the subject, it is the measure of the increasing depreciation of funded paper money, which it is impossible to prevent while the quantity of that money and of bank notes continues to multiply. what else but this can account for the difference between one war costing millions, and another war costing millions? the difference cannot be accounted for on the score of extraordinary efforts or extraordinary achievements. the war that cost twenty-one millions was the war of the con-federates, historically called the grand alliance, consisting of england, austria, and holland in the time of william iii. against louis xiv. and in which the confederates were victorious. the present is a war of a much greater confederacy--a confederacy of england, austria, prussia, the german empire, spain, holland, naples, and sardinia, eight powers, against the french republic singly, and the republic has beaten the whole confederacy.--but to return to my subject. it is said in england, that the value of paper keeps equal with the value of gold and silver. but the case is not rightly stated; for the fact is, that the paper has _pulled down_ the value of gold and silver to a level with itself. gold and silver will not purchase so much of any purchasable article at this day as if no paper had appeared, nor so much as it will in any country in europe where there is no paper. how long this hanging together of money and paper will continue, makes a new case; because it daily exposes the system to sudden death, independent of the natural death it would otherwise suffer. i consider the funding system as being now advanced into the last twenty years of its existence. the single circumstance, were there no other, that a war should now cost nominally one hundred and sixty millions, which when the system began cost but twenty-one millions, or that the loan for one year only (including the loan to the emperor) should now be nominally greater than the whole expense of that war, shows the state of depreciation to which the funding system has arrived. its depreciation is in the proportion of eight for one, compared with the value of its money when the system began; which is the state the french assignats stood a year ago (march ) compared with gold and silver. it is therefore that i say, that the english funding system has entered on the last twenty years of its existence, comparing each twenty years of the english system with every single year of the american and french systems, as before stated. again, supposing the present war to close as former wars have done, and without producing either revolution or reform in england, another war at least must be looked for in the space of the twenty years i allude to; for it has never yet happened that twenty years have passed off without a war, and that more especially since the english government has dabbled in german politics, and shown a disposition to insult the world, and the world of commerce, with her navy. the next war will carry the national debt to very nearly seven hundred millions, the interest of which, at four per cent, will be twenty-eight millions besides the taxes for the (then) expenses of government, which will increase in the same proportion, and which will carry the taxes to at least forty millions; and if another war only begins, it will quickly carry them to above fifty; for it is in the last twenty years of the funding system, as in the last year of the american and french systems without funding, that all the great shocks begin to operate. i have just mentioned that, paper in england has _pulled down_ the value of gold and silver to a level with itself; and that _this pulling dawn_ of gold and silver money has created the appearance of paper money keeping up. the same thing, and the same mistake, took place in america and in france, and continued for a considerable time after the commencement of their system of paper; and the actual depreciation of money was hidden under that mistake. it was said in america, at that time, that everything was becoming _dear_; but gold and silver could then buy those dear articles no cheaper than paper could; and therefore it was not called depreciation. the idea of _dearness_ established itself for the idea of depreciation. the same was the case in france. though every thing rose in price soon after assignats appeared, yet those dear articles could be purchased no cheaper with gold and silver, than with paper, and it was only said that things were _dear_. the same is still the language in england. they call it _deariness_. but they will soon find that it is an actual depreciation, and that this depreciation is the effect of the funding system; which, by crowding such a continually increasing mass of paper into circulation, carries down the value of gold and silver with it. but gold and silver, will, in the long run, revolt against depreciation, and separate from the value of paper; for the progress of all such systems appears to be, that the paper will take the command in the beginning, and gold and silver in the end. but this succession in the command of gold and silver over paper, makes a crisis far more eventful to the funding system than to any other system upon which paper can be issued; for, strictly speaking, it is not a crisis of danger but a symptom of death. it is a death-stroke to the funding system. it is a revolution in the whole of its affairs. if paper be issued without being funded upon interest, emissions of it can be continued after the value of it separates from gold and silver, as we have seen in the two cases of america and france. but the funding system rests altogether upon the value of paper being equal to gold and silver; which will be as long as the paper can continue carrying down the value of gold and silver to the same level to which itself descends, and no longer. but even in this state, that of descending equally together, the minister, whoever he may be, will find himself beset with accumulating difficulties; because the loans and taxes voted for the service of each ensuing year will wither in his hands before the year expires, or before they can be applied. this will force him to have recourse to emissions of what are called exchequer and navy bills, which, by still increasing the mass of paper in circulation, will drive on the depreciation still more rapidly. it ought to be known that taxes in england are not paid in gold and silver, but in paper (bank notes). every person who pays any considerable quantity of taxes, such as maltsters, brewers, distillers, (i appeal for the truth of it, to any of the collectors of excise in england, or to mr. white-bread,)( ) knows this to be the case. there is not gold and silver enough in the nation to pay the taxes in coin, as i shall show; and consequently there is not money enough in the bank to pay the notes. the interest of the national funded debt is paid at the bank in the same kind of paper in which the taxes are collected. when people find, as they will find, a reservedness among each other in giving gold and silver for bank notes, or the least preference for the former over the latter, they will go for payment to the bank, where they have a right to go. they will do this as a measure of prudence, each one for himself, and the truth or delusion of the funding system will then be proved. an eminent member of parliament.--_editor._. i have said in the foregoing paragraph that there is not gold and silver enough in the nation to pay the taxes in coin, and consequently that there cannot be enough in the bank to pay the notes. as i do not choose to rest anything upon assertion, i appeal for the truth of this to the publications of mr. eden (now called lord auckland) and george chalmers, secretary to the board of trade and plantation, of which jenkinson (now lord hawkesbury) is president.( ) (these sort of folks change their names so often that it is as difficult to know them as it is to know a thief.) chalmers gives the quantity of gold and silver coin from the returns of coinage at the mint; and after deducting for the light gold recoined, says that the amount of gold and silver coined is about twenty millions. he had better not have proved this, especially if he had reflected that _public credit is suspicion asleep_. the quantity is much too little. concerning chalmers and hawkesbury see vol. ii., p. . also, preface to my "life of paine", xvi., and other passages.---_editor._. of this twenty millions (which is not a fourth part of the quantity of gold and silver there is in france, as is shown in mr. neckar's treatise on the administration of the finances) three millions at least must be supposed to be in ireland, some in scotland, and in the west indies, newfoundland, &c. the quantity therefore in england cannot be more than sixteen millions, which is four millions less than the amount of the taxes. but admitting that there are sixteen millions, not more than a fourth part thereof (four millions) can be in london, when it is considered that every city, town, village, and farm-house in the nation must have a part of it, and that all the great manufactories, which most require cash, are out of london. of this four millions in london, every banker, merchant, tradesman, in short every individual, must have some. he must be a poor shopkeeper indeed, who has not a few guineas in his till. the quantity of cash therefore in the bank can never, on the evidence of circumstances, be so much as two millions; most probably not more than one million; and on this slender twig, always liable to be broken, hangs the whole funding system of four hundred millions, besides many millions in bank notes. the sum in the bank is not sufficient to pay one-fourth of only one year's interest of the national debt, were the creditors to demand payment in cash, or demand cash for the bank notes in which the interest is paid, a circumstance always liable to happen. one of the amusements that has kept up the farce of the funding system is, that the interest is regularly paid. but as the interest is always paid in bank notes, and as bank notes can always be coined for the purpose, this mode of payment proves nothing. the point of proof is, can the bank give cash for the bank notes with which the interest is paid? if it cannot, and it is evident it cannot, some millions of bank notes must go without payment, and those holders of bank notes who apply last will be worst off. when the present quantity of cash in the bank is paid away, it is next to impossible to see how any new quantity is to arrive. none will arrive from taxes, for the taxes will all be paid in bank notes; and should the government refuse bank notes in payment of taxes, the credit of bank notes will be gone at once. no cash will arise from the business of discounting merchants' bills; for every merchant will pay off those bills in bank notes, and not in cash. there is therefore no means left for the bank to obtain a new supply of cash, after the present quantity is paid away. but besides the impossibility of paying the interest of the funded debt in cash, there are many thousand persons, in london and in the country, who are holders of bank notes that came into their hands in the fair way of trade, and who are not stockholders in the funds; and as such persons have had no hand in increasing the demand upon the bank, as those have had who for their own private interest, like boyd and others, are contracting or pretending to contract for new loans, they will conceive they have a just right that their bank notes should be paid first. boyd has been very sly in france, in changing his paper into cash. he will be just as sly in doing the same thing in london, for he has learned to calculate; and then it is probable he will set off for america. a stoppage of payment at the bank is not a new thing. smith in his wealth of nations, book ii. chap. , says, that in the year , exchequer bills fell forty, fifty, and sixty per cent; bank notes twenty per cent; and the bank stopped payment. that which happened in may happen again in . the period in which it happened was the last year of the war of king william. it necessarily put a stop to the further emissions of exchequer and navy bills, and to the raising of new loans; and the peace which took place the next year was probably hurried on by this circumstance, and saved the bank from bankruptcy. smith in speaking from the circumstances of the bank, upon another occasion, says (book ii. chap. .) "this great company had been reduced to the necessity of paying in sixpences." when a bank adopts the expedient of paying in sixpences, it is a confession of insolvency. it is worthy of observation, that every case of failure in finances, since the system of paper began, has produced a revolution in governments, either total or partial. a failure in the finances of france produced the french revolution. a failure in the finance of the assignats broke up the revolutionary government, and produced the present french constitution. a failure in the finances of the old congress of america, and the embarrassments it brought upon commerce, broke up the system of the old confederation, and produced the federal constitution. if, then, we admit of reasoning by comparison of causes and events, the failure of the english finances will produce some change in the government of that country. as to mr. pitt's project of paying off the national debt by applying a million a-year for that purpose, while he continues adding more than twenty millions a-year to it, it is like setting a man with a wooden leg to run after a hare. the longer he runs the farther he is off. when i said that the funding system had entered the last twenty years of its existence, i certainly did not mean that it would continue twenty years, and then expire as a lease would do. i meant to describe that age of decrepitude in which death is every day to be expected, and life cannot continue long. but the death of credit, or that state that is called bankruptcy, is not always marked by those progressive stages of visible decline that marked the decline of natural life. in the progression of natural life age cannot counterfeit youth, nor conceal the departure of juvenile abilities. but it is otherwise with respect to the death of credit; for though all the approaches to bankruptcy may actually exist in circumstances, they admit of being concealed by appearances. nothing is more common than to see the bankrupt of to-day a man in credit but the day before; yet no sooner is the real state of his affairs known, than every body can see he had been insolvent long before. in london, the greatest theatre of bankruptcy in europe, this part of the subject will be well and feelingly understood. mr. pitt continually talks of credit, and the national resources. these are two of the feigned appearances by which the approaches to bankruptcy are concealed. that which he calls credit may exist, as i have just shown, in a state of insolvency, and is always what i have before described it to be, _suspicion asleep_. as to national resources, mr. pitt, like all english financiers that preceded him since the funding system began, has uniformly mistaken the nature of a resource; that is, they have mistaken it consistently with the delusion of the funding system; but time is explaining the delusion. that which he calls, and which they call, a resource, is not a resource, but is the _anticipation_ of a resource. they have anticipated what _would have been_ a resource in another generation, had not the use of it been so anticipated. the funding system is a system of anticipation. those who established it an hundred years ago anticipated the resources of those who were to live an hundred years after; for the people of the present day have to pay the interest of the debts contracted at that time, and all debts contracted since. but it is the last feather that breaks the horse's back. had the system begun an hundred years before, the amount of taxes at this time to pay the annual interest at four per cent. (could we suppose such a system of insanity could have continued) would be two hundred and twenty millions annually: for the capital of the debt would be millions, according to the ratio that ascertains the expense of the wars for the hundred years that are past. but long before it could have reached this period, the value of bank notes, from the immense quantity of them, (for it is in paper only that such a nominal revenue could be collected,) would have been as low or lower than continental paper has been in america, or assignats in france; and as to the idea of exchanging them for gold and silver, it is too absurd to be contradicted. do we not see that nature, in all her operations, disowns the visionary basis upon which the funding system is built? she acts always by renewed successions, and never by accumulating additions perpetually progressing. animals and vegetables, men and trees, have existed since the world began: but that existence has been carried on by succession of generations, and not by continuing the same men and the same trees in existence that existed first; and to make room for the new she removes the old. every natural idiot can see this; it is the stock-jobbing idiot only that mistakes. he has conceived that art can do what nature cannot. he is teaching her a new system--that there is no occasion for man to die--that the scheme of creation can be carried on upon the plan of the funding system--that it can proceed by continual additions of new beings, like new loans, and all live together in eternal youth. go, count the graves, thou idiot, and learn the folly of thy arithmetic! but besides these things, there is something visibly farcical in the whole operation of loaning. it is scarcely more than four years ago that such a rot of bankruptcy spread itself over london, that the whole commercial fabric tottered; trade and credit were at a stand; and such was the state of things that, to prevent or suspend a general bankruptcy, the government lent the merchants six millions in _government_ paper, and now the merchants lend the government twenty-two millions in _their_ paper; and two parties, boyd and morgan, men but little known, contend who shall be the lenders. what a farce is this! it reduces the operation of loaning to accommodation paper, in which the competitors contend, not who shall lend, but who shall sign, because there is something to be got for signing. every english stock-jobber and minister boasts of the credit of england. its credit, say they, is greater than that of any country in europe. there is a good reason for this: for there is not another country in europe that could be made the dupe of such a delusion. the english funding system will remain a monument of wonder, not so much on account of the extent to which it has been carried, as of the folly of believing in it. those who had formerly predicted that the funding system would break up when the debt should amount to one hundred or one hundred and fifty millions, erred only in not distinguishing between insolvency and actual bankruptcy; for the insolvency commenced as soon as the government became unable to pay the interest in cash, or to give cash for the bank notes in which the interest was paid, whether that inability was known or not, or whether it was suspected or not. insolvency always takes place before bankruptcy; for bankruptcy is nothing more than the publication of that insolvency. in the affairs of an individual, it often happens that insolvency exists several years before bankruptcy, and that the insolvency is concealed and carried on till the individual is not able to pay one shilling in the pound. a government can ward off bankruptcy longer than an individual: but insolvency will inevitably produce bankruptcy, whether in an individual or in a government. if then the quantity of bank notes payable on demand, which the bank has issued, are greater than the bank can pay off, the bank is insolvent: and when that insolvency is declared, it is bankruptcy.(*) * among the delusions that have been imposed upon the nation by ministers to give a false colouring to its affairs, and by none more than by mr. pitt, is a motley, amphibious-charactered thing called the _balance of trade_. this balance of trade, as it is called, is taken from the custom-house books, in which entries are made of all cargoes exported, and also of all cargoes imported, in each year; and when the value of the exports, according to the price set upon them by the exporter or by the custom-house, is greater than the value of the imports, estimated in the same manner, they say the balance of trade is much in their favour. the custom-house books prove regularly enough that so many cargoes have been exported, and so many imported; but this is all that they prove, or were intended to prove. they have nothing to do with the balance of profit or loss; and it is ignorance to appeal to them upon that account: for the case is, that the greater the loss is in any one year, the higher will this thing called the balance of trade appear to be according to the custom-house books. for example, nearly the whole of the mediterranean convoy has been taken by the french this year; consequently those cargoes will not appear as imports on the custom-house books, and therefore the balance of trade, by which they mean the profits of it, will appear to be so much the greater as the loss amounts to; and, on the other hand, had the loss not happened, the profits would have appeared to have been so much the less. all the losses happening at sea to returning cargoes, by accidents, by the elements, or by capture, make the balance appear the higher on the side of the exports; and were they all lost at sea, it would appear to be all profit on the custom-house books. also every cargo of exports that is lost that occasions another to be sent, adds in like manner to the side of the exports, and appears as profit. this year the balance of trade will appear high, because the losses have been great by capture and by storms. the ignorance of the british parliament in listening to this hackneyed imposition of ministers about the balance of trade is astonishing. it shows how little they know of national affairs--and mr. grey may as well talk greek to them, as to make motions about the state of the nation. they understand only fox-hunting and the game laws,--_author_. i come now to show the several ways by which bank notes get into circulation: i shall afterwards offer an estimate on the total quantity or amount of bank notes existing at this moment. the bank acts in three capacities. as a bank of discount; as a bank of deposit; and as a banker for the government. first, as a bank of discount. the bank discounts merchants' bills of exchange for two months. when a merchant has a bill that will become due at the end of two months, and wants payment before that time, the bank advances that payment to him, deducting therefrom at the rate of five per cent, per annum. the bill of exchange remains at the bank as a pledge or pawn, and at the end of two months it must be redeemed. this transaction is done altogether in paper; for the profits of the bank, as a bank of discount, arise entirely from its making use of paper as money. the bank gives bank notes to the merchant in discounting the bill of exchange, and the redeemer of the bill pays bank notes to the bank in redeeming it. it very seldom happens that any real money passes between them. if the profits of a bank be, for example, two hundred thousand pounds a year (a great sum to be made merely by exchanging one sort of paper for another, and which shows also that the merchants of that place are pressed for money for payments, instead of having money to spare to lend to government,) it proves that the bank discounts to the amount of four millions annually, or , l. every two months; and as there never remain in the bank more than two months' pledges, of the value of , l., at any one time, the amount of bank notes in circulation at any one time should not be more than to that amount. this is sufficient to show that the present immense quantity of bank notes, which are distributed through every city, town, village, and farm-house in england, cannot be accounted for on the score of discounting. secondly, as a bank of deposit. to deposit money at the bank means to lodge it there for the sake of convenience, and to be drawn out at any moment the depositor pleases, or to be paid away to his order. when the business of discounting is great, that of depositing is necessarily small. no man deposits and applies for discounts at the same time; for it would be like paying interest for lending money, instead of for borrowing it. the deposits that are now made at the bank are almost entirely in bank notes, and consequently they add nothing to the ability of the bank to pay off the bank notes that may be presented for payment; and besides this, the deposits are no more the property of the bank than the cash or bank notes in a merchant's counting-house are the property of his book-keeper. no great increase therefore of bank notes, beyond what the discounting business admits, can be accounted for on the score of deposits. thirdly, the bank acts as banker for the government. this is the connection that threatens to ruin every public bank. it is through this connection that the credit of a bank is forced far beyond what it ought to be, and still further beyond its ability to pay. it is through this connection, that such an immense redundant quantity of bank notes, have gotten into circulation; and which, instead of being issued because there was property in the bank, have been issued because there was none. when the treasury is empty, which happens in almost every year of every war, its coffers at the bank are empty also. it is in this condition of emptiness that the minister has recourse to emissions of what are called exchequer and navy bills, which continually generates a new increase of bank notes, and which are sported upon the public, without there being property in the bank to pay them. these exchequer and navy bills (being, as i have said, emitted because the treasury and its coffers at the bank are empty, and cannot pay the demands that come in) are no other than an acknowledgment that the bearer is entitled to receive so much money. they may be compared to the settlement of an account, in which the debtor acknowledges the balance he owes, and for which he gives a note of hand; or to a note of hand given to raise money upon it. sometimes the bank discounts those bills as it would discount merchants' bills of exchange; sometimes it purchases them of the holders at the current price; and sometimes it agrees with the ministers to pay an interest upon them to the holders, and keep them in circulation. in every one of these cases an additional quantity of bank notes gets into circulation, and are sported, as i have said, upon the public, without there being property in the bank, as banker for the government, to pay them; and besides this, the bank has now no money of its own; for the money that was originally subscribed to begin the credit of the bank with, at its first establishment, has been lent to government and wasted long ago. "the bank" (says smith, book ii. chap. .) "acts not only as an ordinary bank, but as a great engine of state; it receives and pays a greater part of the annuities which are due to the creditors of the _public_." (it is worth observing, that the _public_, or the _nation_, is always put for the government, in speaking of debts.) "it circulates" (says smith) "exchequer bills, and it advances to government the annual amount of the land and malt taxes, which are frequently not paid till several years afterwards." (this advancement is also done in bank notes, for which there is not property in the bank.) "in those different operations" (says smith) "_its duty to the public_ may sometimes have obliged it, without any fault of its directors, _to overstock the circulation with paper money_."--bank notes. how its _duty_ to _the public_ can induce it _to overstock that public_ with promissory bank notes which it _cannot pay_, and thereby expose the individuals of that public to ruin, is too paradoxical to be explained; for it is on the credit which individuals _give to the bank_, by receiving and circulating its notes, and not upon its _own_ credit or its _own_ property, for it has none, that the bank sports. if, however, it be the duty of the bank to expose the public to this hazard, it is at least equally the duty of the individuals of that public to get their money and take care of themselves; and leave it to placemen, pensioners, government contractors, reeves' association, and the members of both houses of parliament, who have voted away the money at the nod of the minister, to continue the credit if they can, and for which their estates individually and collectively ought to answer, as far as they will go. there has always existed, and still exists, a mysterious, suspicious connection, between the minister and the directors of the bank, and which explains itself no otherways than by a continual increase in bank notes. without, therefore, entering into any further details of the various contrivances by which bank notes are issued, and thrown upon the public, i proceed, as i before mentioned, to offer an estimate on the total quantity of bank notes in circulation. however disposed governments may be to wring money by taxes from the people, there is a limit to the practice established by the nature of things. that limit is the proportion between the quantity of money in a nation, be that quantity what it may, and the greatest quantity of taxes that can be raised upon it. people have other uses for money besides paying taxes; and it is only a proportional part of the money they can spare for taxes, as it is only a proportional part they can spare for house-rent, for clothing, or for any other particular use. these proportions find out and establish themselves; and that with such exactness, that if any one part exceeds its proportion, all the other parts feel it. before the invention of paper money (bank notes,) there was no other money in the nation than gold and silver, and the greatest quantity of money that was ever raised in taxes during that period never exceeded a fourth part of the quantity of money in the nation. it was high taxing when it came to this point. the taxes in the time of william iii. never reached to four millions before the invention of paper, and the quantity of money in the nation at that time was estimated to be about sixteen millions. the same proportions established themselves in france. there was no paper money in france before the present revolution, and the taxes were collected in gold and silver money. the highest quantity of taxes never exceeded twenty-two millions sterling; and the quantity of gold and silver money in the nation at the same time, as stated by m. neckar, from returns of coinage at the mint, in his treatise on the administration of the finances, was about ninety millions sterling. to go beyond this limit of a fourth part, in england, they were obliged to introduce paper money; and the attempt to go beyond it in france, where paper could not be introduced, broke up the government. this proportion, therefore, of a fourth part, is the limit which the thing establishes for itself, be the quantity of money in a nation more or less. the amount of taxes in england at this time is full twenty millions; and therefore the quantity of gold and silver, and of bank notes, taken together, amounts to eighty millions. the quantity of gold and silver, as stated by lord hawkes-bury's secretary, george chalmers, as i have before shown, is twenty millions; and, therefore, the total amount of bank notes in circulation, all made payable on demand, is sixty millions. this enormous sum will astonish the most stupid stock-jobber, and overpower the credulity of the most thoughtless englishman: but were it only a third part of that sum, the bank cannot pay half a crown in the pound. there is something curious in the movements of this modern complicated machine, the funding system; and it is only now that it is beginning to unfold the full extent of its movements. in the first part of its movements it gives great powers into the hands of government, and in the last part it takes them completely away. the funding system set out with raising revenues under the name of loans, by means of which government became both prodigal and powerful. the loaners assumed the name of creditors, and though it was soon discovered that loaning was government-jobbing, those pretended loaners, or the persons who purchased into the funds afterwards, conceived themselves not only to be creditors, but to be the _only_ creditors. but such has been the operation of this complicated machine, the funding system, that it has produced, unperceived, a second generation of creditors, more numerous and far more formidable and withal more real than the first generation; for every holder of a bank note is a creditor, and a real creditor, and the debt due to him is made payable on demand. the debt therefore which the government owes to individuals is composed of two parts; the one about four hundred millions bearing interest, the other about sixty millions payable on demand. the one is called the funded debt, the other is the debt due in bank notes. the second debt (that contained in the bank notes) has, in a great measure, been incurred to pay the interest of the first debt; so that in fact little or no real interest has been paid by government. the whole has been delusion and fraud. government first contracted a debt, in the form of loans, with one class of people, and then run clandestinely into debt with another class, by means of bank notes, to pay the interest. government acted of itself in contracting the first debt, and made a machine of the bank to contract the second. it is this second debt that changes the seat of power and the order of things; for it puts it in the power of even a small part of the holders of bank notes (had they no other motives than disgust at pitt and grenville's sedition bills,) to control any measure of government they found to be injurious to their interest; and that not by popular meetings, or popular societies, but by the simple and easy opera-tion of withholding their credit from that government; that is, by individually demanding payment at the bank for every bank note that comes into their hands. why should pitt and grenville expect that the very men whom they insult and injure, should, at the same time, continue to support the measures of pitt and grenville, by giving credit to their promissory notes of payment? no new emissions of bank notes could go on while payment was demanding on the old, and the cash in the bank wasting daily away; nor any new advances be made to government, or to the emperor, to carry on the war; nor any new emission be made on exchequer bills. "_the bank_" says smith, (book ii. chap. ) "_is a great engine of state_." and in the same paragraph he says, "_the stability of the bank is equal to that of the british government_;" which is the same as to say that the stability of the government is equal to that of the bank, and no more. if then the bank cannot pay, the _arch-treasurer_ of the holy roman empire (s. r. i. a.*) is a bankrupt. when folly invented titles, she did not attend to their application; forever since the government of england has been in the hands of _arch-treasurers_, it has been running into bankruptcy; and as to the arch-treasurer _apparent_, he has been a bankrupt long ago. what a miserable prospect has england before its eyes! * put of the inscription on an english guinea.--_author_. before the war of there were no bank notes lower than twenty pounds. during that war, bank notes of fifteen pounds and of ten pounds were coined; and now, since the commencement of the present war, they are coined as low as five pounds. these five-pound notes will circulate chiefly among little shop-keepers, butchers, bakers, market-people, renters of small houses, lodgers, &c. all the high departments of commerce and the affluent stations of life were already _overstocked_, as smith expresses it, with the bank notes. no place remained open wherein to crowd an additional quantity of bank notes but among the class of people i have just mentioned, and the means of doing this could be best effected by coining five-pound notes. this conduct has the appearance of that of an unprincipled insolvent, who, when on the verge of bankruptcy to the amount of many thousands, will borrow as low as five pounds of the servants in his house, and break the next day. but whatever momentary relief or aid the minister and his bank might expect from this low contrivance of five-pound notes, it will increase the inability of the bank to pay the higher notes, and hasten the destruction of all; for even the small taxes that used to be paid in money will now be paid in those notes, and the bank will soon find itself with scarcely any other money than what the hair-powder guinea-tax brings in. the bank notes make the most serious part of the business of finance: what is called the national funded debt is but a trifle when put in comparison with it; yet the case of the bank notes has never been touched upon. but it certainly ought to be known upon what authority, whether that of the minister or of the directors, and upon what foundation, such immense quantities are issued. i have stated the amount of them at sixty millions; i have produced data for that estimation; and besides this, the apparent quantity of them, far beyond that of gold and silver in the nation, corroborates the statement. but were there but a third part of sixty millions, the bank cannot pay half a crown in the pound; for no new supply of money, as before said, can arrive at the bank, as all the taxes will be paid in paper. when the funding system began, it was not doubted that the loans that had been borrowed would be repaid. government not only propagated that belief, but it began paying them off. in time this profession came to be abandoned: and it is not difficult to see that bank notes will march the same way; for the amount of them is only another debt under another name; and the probability is that mr. pitt will at last propose funding them. in that case bank notes will not be so valuable as french assignats. the assignats have a solid property in reserve, in the national domains; bank notes have none; and, besides this, the english revenue must then sink down to what the amount of it was before the funding system began--between three and four millions; one of which the _arch-treasurer_ would require for himself, and the arch-treasurer _apparent_ would require three-quarters of a million more to pay his debts. "_in france_," says sterne, "_they order these things better_." i have now exposed the english system of finance to the eyes of all nations; for this work will be published in all languages. in doing this, i have done an act of justice to those numerous citizens of neutral nations who have been imposed upon by that fraudulent system, and who have property at stake upon the event. as an individual citizen of america, and as far as an individual can go, i have revenged (if i may use the expression without any immoral meaning) the piratical depredations committed on the american commerce by the english government. i have retaliated for france on the subject of finance: and i conclude with retorting on mr. pitt the expression he used against france, and say, that the english system of finance "is on the verge, nay even in the gulph of bankruptcy." thomas paine. paris, th germinal. th year of the republic, april , . xxvii. forgetfulness.( ) this undated composition, of much biographical interest, was shown by paine to henry redhead yorke, who visited him in paris ( ), and was allowed to copy the only portions now preserved. in the last of yorke's letters from france (lond., ), thirty-three pages are given to paine. under the name "little corner of the world," lady smyth wrote cheering letters to paine in his prison, and he replied to his then unknown correspondent under the name of "the castle in die air." after his release he discovered in his correspondent a lady who had appealed to him for assistance, no doubt for her husband. with sir robert (an english banker in paris) and lady smyth, paine formed a fast friendship which continued through life. sir robert was born in , and married ( ) a miss blake of hanover square, london. he died in of illness brought on by his imprisonment under napoleon. several of paine's poems were addressed to lady smyth.--_editor._ from "the castle in the air," to the "little corner of the world." memory, like a beauty that is always present to hear her-self flattered, is flattered by every one. but the absent and silent goddess, forgetfulness, has no votaries, and is never thought of: yet we owe her much. she is the goddess of ease, though not of pleasure. when the mind is like a room hung with black, and every corner of it crowded with the most horrid images imagination can create, this kind speechless goddess of a maid, forgetfulness, is following us night and day with her opium wand, and gently touching first one, and then another, benumbs them into rest, and at last glides them away with the silence of a departing shadow. it is thus the tortured mind is restored to the calm condition of ease, and fitted for happiness. how dismal must the picture of life appear to the mind in that dreadful moment when it resolves on darkness, and to die! one can scarcely believe such a choice was possible. yet how many of the young and beautiful, timid in every thing else, and formed for delight, have shut their eyes upon the world, and made the waters their sepulchral bed! ah, would they in that crisis, when life and death are before them, and each within their reach, would they but think, or try to think, that forgetfulness will come to their relief, and lull them into ease, they could stay their hand, and lay hold of life. but there is a necromancy in wretchedness that entombs the mind, and increases the misery, by shutting out every ray of light and hope. it makes the wretched falsely believe they will be wretched ever. it is the most fatal of all dangerous delusions; and it is only when this necromantic night-mare of the mind begins to vanish, by being resisted, that it is discovered to be but a tyrannic spectre. all grief, like all things else, will yield to the obliterating power of time. while despair is preying on the mind, time and its effects are preying on despair; and certain it is, the dismal vision will fade away, and forgetfulness, with her sister ease, will change the scene. then let not the wretched be rash, but wait, painful as the struggle may be, the arrival of forgetfulness; for it will certainly arrive. i have twice been present at the scene of attempted suicide. the one a love-distracted girl in england, the other of a patriotic friend in france; and as the circumstances of each are strongly pictured in my memory, i will relate them to you. they will in some measure corroborate what i have said of forgetfulness. about the year , i was in lincolnshire, in england, and on a visit at the house of a widow lady, mrs. e____, at a small village in the fens of that county. it was in summer; and one evening after supper, mrs. e____ and myself went to take a turn in the garden. it was about eleven o'clock, and to avoid the night air of the fens, we were walking in a bower, shaded over with hazel bushes. on a sudden, she screamed out, and cried "lord, look, look!" i cast my eyes through the openings of the hazel bushes in the direction she was looking, and saw a white shapeless figure, without head or arms, moving along one of the walks at some distance from us. i quitted mrs. e______, and went after it. when i got into the walk where the figure was, and was following it, it took up another walk. there was a holly bush in the corner of the two walks, which, it being night, i did not observe; and as i continued to step forward, the holly bush came in a straight line between me and the figure, and i lost sight of it; and as i passed along one walk, and the figure the other, the holly bush still continued to intercept the view, so as to give the appearance that the figure had vanished. when i came to the corner of the two walks, i caught sight of it again, and coming up with it, i reached out my hand to touch it; and in the act of doing this, the idea struck me, will my hand pass through the air, or shall i feel any thing? less than a moment would decide this, and my hand rested on the shoulder of a human figure. i spoke, but do not recollect what i said. it answered in a low voice, "pray let me alone." i then knew who it was. it was a young lady who was on a visit to mrs. e------, and who, when we sat down to supper, said she found herself extremely ill, and would go to bed. i called to mrs. e------, who came, and i said to her, "it is miss n------." mrs. e------ said, "my god, i hope you are not going to do yourself any hurt;" for mrs. e------ suspected something. she replied with pathetic melancholy, "life has not one pleasure for me." we got her into the house, and mrs. e------ took her to sleep with her. the case was, the man to whom she expected to be married had forsaken her, and when she heard he was to be married to another the shock appeared to her to be too great to be borne. she had retired, as i have said, to her room, and when she supposed all the family were gone to bed, (which would have been the case if mrs. e------ and i had not walked into the garden,) she undressed herself, and tied her apron over her head; which, descending below her waist, gave her the shapeless figure i have spoken of. with this and a white under petticoat and slippers, for she had taken out her buckles and put them at the servant maid's door, i suppose as a keepsake, and aided by the obscurity of almost midnight, she came down stairs, and was going to drown her-self in a pond at the bottom of the garden, towards which she was going when mrs. e------screamed out. we found afterwards that she had heard the scream, and that was the cause of her changing her walk. by gentle usage, and leading her into subjects that might, without doing violence to her feelings, and without letting her see the direct intention of it, steal her as it were from the horror she was in, (and i felt a compassionate, earnest disposition to do it, for she was a good girl,) she recovered her former cheerfulness, and was afterwards a happy wife, and the mother of a family. the other case, and the conclusion in my next: in paris, in , had lodgings in the rue fauxbourg, st. denis, no. .( ) they were the most agreeable, for situation, of any i ever had in paris, except that they were too remote from the convention, of which i was then a member. but this was recompensed by their being also remote from the alarms and confusion into which the interior of paris was then often thrown. the news of those things used to arrive to us, as if we were in a state of tranquility in the country. the house, which was enclosed by a wall and gateway from the street, was a good deal like an old mansion farm house, and the court yard was like a farm-yard, stocked with fowls, ducks, turkies, and geese; which, for amusement, we used to feed out of the parlour window on the ground floor. there were some hutches for rabbits, and a sty with two pigs. beyond, was a garden of more than an acre of ground, well laid out, and stocked with excellent fruit trees. the orange, apricot, and green-gage plum, were the best i ever tasted; and it is the only place where i saw the wild cucumber. the place had formerly been occupied by some curious person.( ) this ancient mansion is still standing ( ).--_editor._ madame de pompadour, among others.--_editor._» my apartments consisted of three rooms; the first for wood, water, etc., with an old fashioned closet chest, high enough to hang up clothes in; the next was the bed room; and beyond it the sitting room, which looked into the garden through a glass door; and on the outside there was a small landing place railed in, and a flight of narrow stairs almost hidden by the vines that grew over it, by which i could descend into the garden, without going down stairs through the house. i am trying by description to make you see the place in your mind, because it will assist the story i have to tell; and which i think you can do, because you once called upon me there on account of sir [robert smyth], who was then, as i was soon afterwards, in arrestation. but it was winter when you came, and it is a summer scene i am describing. ***** i went into my chambers to write and sign a certificate for them, which i intended to take to the guard house to obtain their release. just as i had finished it a man came into my room dressed in the parisian uniform of a captain, and spoke to me in good english, and with a good address. he told me that two young men, englishmen, were arrested and detained in the guard house, and that the section, (meaning those who represented and acted for the section,) had sent him to ask me if i knew them, in which case they would be liberated. this matter being soon settled between us, he talked to me about the revolution, and something about the "rights of man," which he had read in english; and at parting offered me in a polite and civil manner, his services. and who do you think the man was that offered me his services? it was no other than the public executioner samson, who guillotined the king, and all who were guillotined in paris; and who lived in the same section, and in the same street with me. ***** as to myself, i used to find some relief by walking alone in the garden after dark, and cursing with hearty good will the authors of that terrible system that had turned the character of the revolution i had been proud to defend. i went but little to the convention, and then only to make my appearance; because i found it impossible to join in their tremendous decrees, and useless and dangerous to oppose them. my having voted and spoken extensively, more so than any other member, against the execution of the king, had already fixed a mark upon me: neither dared any of my associates in the convention to translate and speak in french for me anything i might have dared to have written. ***** pen and ink were then of no use to me: no good could be done by writing, and no printer dared to print; and whatever i might have written for my private amusement, as anecdotes of the times, would have been continually exposed to be examined, and tortured into any meaning that the rage of party might fix upon it; and as to softer subjects, my heart was in distress at the fate of my friends, and my harp hung upon the weeping willows.( ) as it was summer we spent most of our time in the garden, and passed it away in those childish amusements that serve to keep reflection from the mind, such as marbles, scotch-hops, battledores, etc., at which we were all pretty expert. in this retired manner we remained about six or seven weeks, and our landlord went every evening into the city to bring us the news of the day and the evening journal. i have now, my "little corner of the world," led you on, step by step, to the scene that makes the sequel to this narrative, and i will put that scene before your eyes. you shall see it in description as i saw it in fact. this allusion is to the girondins.--_editor._, yorke omits the description "from motives of personal delicacy." the case was that of young johnson, a wealthy devotee of paine in london, who had followed him to paris and lived in the same house with him. hearing that marat had resolved on paine's death, johnson wrote a will bequeathing his property to paine, then stabbed himself, but recovered. paine was examined about this incident at marat's trial. (moniteur, april , .) see my "life of paine," vol. ii., p. seq.--_editor._. ***** he recovered, and being anxious to get out of france, a passage was obtained for him and mr. choppin: they received it late in the evening, and set off the next morning for basle before four, from which place i had a letter from them, highly pleased with their escape from france, into which they had entered with an enthusiasm of patriotic devotion. ah, france! thou hast ruined the character of a revolution virtuously begun, and destroyed those who produced it. i might almost say like job's servant, "and i only am escaped." two days after they were gone i heard a rapping at the gate, and looking out of the window of the bed room i saw the landlord going with the candle to the gate, which he opened, and a guard with musquets and fixed bayonets entered. i went to bed again, and made up my mind for prison, for i was then the only lodger. it was a guard to take up [johnson and choppin], but, i thank god, they were out of their reach. the guard came about a month after in the night, and took away the landlord georgeit; and the scene in the house finished with the arrestation of myself. this was soon after you called on me, and sorry i was it was not in my power to render to [sir robert smyth] the service that you asked. i have now fulfilled my engagement, and i hope your expectation, in relating the case of [johnson], landed back on the shore of life, by the mistake of the pilot who was conducting him out; and preserved afterwards from prison, perhaps a worse fate, without knowing it himself. you say a story cannot be too melancholy for you. this is interesting and affecting, but not melancholy. it may raise in your mind a sympathetic sentiment in reading it; and though it may start a tear of pity, you will not have a tear of sorrow to drop on the page. ***** here, my contemplative correspondent, let us stop and look back upon the scene. the matters here related being all facts, are strongly pictured in my mind, and in this sense forgetfulness does not apply. but facts and feelings are distinct things, and it is against feelings that the opium wand of forgetfulness draws us into ease. look back on any scene or subject that once gave you distress, for all of us have felt some, and you will find, that though the remembrance of the fact is not extinct in your memory, the feeling is extinct in your mind. you can remember when you had felt distress, but you cannot feel that distress again, and perhaps will wonder you felt it then. it is like a shadow that loses itself by light. it is often difficult to know what is a misfortune: that which we feel as a great one today, may be the means of turning aside our steps into some new path that leads to happiness yet unknown. in tracing the scenes of my own life, i can discover that the condition i now enjoy, which is sweet to me, and will be more so when i get to america, except by the loss of your society, has been produced, in the first instance, in my being disappointed in former projects. under that impenetrable veil, futurity, we know not what is concealed, and the day to arrive is hidden from us. turning then our thoughts to those cases of despair that lead to suicide, when, "the mind," as you say, "neither sees nor hears, and holds counsel only with itself; when the very idea of consolation would add to the torture, and self-destruction is its only aim," what, it may be asked, is the best advice, what the best relief? i answer, seek it not in reason, for the mind is at war with reason, and to reason against feelings is as vain as to reason against fire: it serves only to torture the torture, by adding reproach to horror. all reasoning with ourselves in such cases acts upon us like the reason of another person, which, however kindly done, serves but to insult the misery we suffer. if reason could remove the pain, reason would have prevented it. if she could not do the one, how is she to perform the other? in all such cases we must look upon reason as dispossessed of her empire, by a revolt of the mind. she retires herself to a distance to weep, and the ebony sceptre of despair rules alone. all that reason can do is to suggest, to hint a thought, to signify a wish, to cast now and then a kind of bewailing look, to hold up, when she can catch the eye, the miniature-shaded portrait of hope; and though dethroned, and can dictate no more, to wait upon us in the humble station of a handmaid. xxviii. agrarian justice. editor's introduction: this pamphlet appeared first in paris, , with the title: "thomas payne à la législature et au directoire. ou la justice agraire opposée à la loi agraire, et aux privilèges agraires. prix sols. � paris, chez la citoyenne ragouleau, près le théâtre de la république, no. . et chez les marchands de nouveautés." a prefatory note says (translated): "the sudden departure of thomas paine has pre-vented his supervising the translation of this work, to which he attached great value. he entrusted it to a friend. it is for the reader to decide whether the scheme here set forth is worthy of the publicity given it." (paine had gone to havre early in may with the monroes, intending to accompany them to america, but, rightly suspecting plans for his capture by an english cruiser, returned to paris.) in the same year the pamphlet was printed in english, by w. adlard in paris, and in london for "t. williams, no. little turnstile, holborn." paine's preface to the london edition contained some sentences which the publishers, as will be seen, suppressed under asterisks, and two sentences were omitted from the pamphlet which i have supplied from the french. the english title adds a brief resume of paine's scheme to the caption--"agrarian justice opposed to agrarian law, and to agrarian monopoly." the work was written in the winter of - , when paine was still an invalid in monroe's house, though not published until . the prefatory letter to the legislature and the directory, now for the first time printed in english, is of much historical interest, and shows the title of the pamphlet related to the rise of socialism in france. the leader of that move-ment, françois noel babeuf, a frantic and pathetic figure of the time, had just been executed. he had named himself "gracchus," and called his journal "tribune du peuple," in homage to the roman tribune, caius gracchus, the original socialist and agrarian, whose fate (suicide of himself and his servant) babeuf and his disciple darthé invoked in prison, whence they were carried bleeding to the guillotine. this, however, was on account of the conspiracy they had formed, with the remains of the robespierrian party and some disguised royalists, to overthrow the government. the socialistic propaganda of babeuf, however, prevailed over all other elements of the conspiracy: the reactionary features of the constitution, especially the property qualification of suffrage of whose effects paine had warned the convention in the speech printed in this volume, (chapter xxv.) and the poverty which survived a revolution that promised its abolition, had excited wide discontent. the "babouvists" numbered as many as , in paris. babeuf and lepelletier were appointed by the secret council of this fraternity (which took the name of "equals") a "directory of public safety." may , , was fixed for seizing on the government, and babeuf had prepared his proclamation of the socialistic millennium. but the plot was discovered, may th, the leaders arrested, and, after a year's delay, two of them executed,--the best-hearted men in the movement, babeuf and darthé. paine too had been moved by the cry for "bread, and the constitution of ' "; and it is a notable coincidence that in that winter of - , while the socialists were secretly plotting to seize the kingdom of heaven by violence, paine was devising his plan of relief by taxing inheritances of land, anticipating by a hundred years the english budget of sir william harcourt. babeuf having failed in his socialist, and pichegru in his royalist, plot, their blows were yet fatal: there still remained in the hearts of millions a babeuf or a pichegru awaiting the chieftain strong enough to combine them, as napoleon presently did, making all the nation "�gaux" as parts of a mighty military engine, and satisfying the royalist triflers with the pomp and glory of war. author's inscription. to the legislature and the executive directory of the french republic. the plan contained in this work is not adapted for any particular country alone: the principle on which it is based is general. but as the rights of man are a new study in this world, and one needing protection from priestly imposture, and the insolence of oppressions too long established, i have thought it right to place this little work under your safeguard. when we reflect on the long and dense night in which france and all europe have remained plunged by their governments and their priests, we must feel less surprise than grief at the bewilderment caused by the first burst of light that dispels the darkness. the eye accustomed to darkness can hardly bear at first the broad daylight. it is by usage the eye learns to see, and it is the same in passing from any situation to its opposite. as we have not at one instant renounced all our errors, we cannot at one stroke acquire knowledge of all our rights. france has had the honour of adding to the word _liberty_ that of _equality_; and this word signifies essentially a principal that admits of no gradation in the things to which it applies. but equality is often misunderstood, often misapplied, and often violated. _liberty_ and _property_ are words expressing all those of our possessions which are not of an intellectual nature. there are two kinds of property. firstly, natural property, or that which comes to us from the creator of the universe,--such as the earth, air, water. secondly, artificial or acquired property,--the invention of men. in the latter equality is impossible; for to distribute it equally it would be necessary that all should have contributed in the same proportion, which can never be the case; and this being the case, every individual would hold on to his own property, as his right share. equality of natural property is the subject of this little essay. every individual in the world is born therein with legitimate claims on a certain kind of property, or its equivalent. the right of voting for persons charged with the execution of the laws that govern society is inherent in the word liberty, and constitutes the equality of personal rights. but even if that right (of voting) were inherent in property, which i deny, the right of suffrage would still belong to all equally, because, as i have said, all individuals have legitimate birthrights in a certain species of property. i have always considered the present constitution of the french republic the _best organized system_ the human mind has yet produced. but i hope my former colleagues will not be offended if i warn them of an error which has slipped into its principle. equality of the right of suffrage is not maintained. this right is in it connected with a condition on which it ought not to depend; that is, with a proportion of a certain tax called "direct." the dignity of suffrage is thus lowered; and, in placing it in the scale with an inferior thing, the enthusiasm that right is capable of inspiring is diminished. it is impossible to find any equivalent counterpoise for the right of suffrage, because it is alone worthy to be its own basis, and cannot thrive as a graft, or an appendage. since the constitution was established we have seen two conspiracies stranded,--that of babeuf, and that of some obscure personages who decorate themselves with the despicable name of "royalists." the defect in principle of the constitution was the origin of babeuf's conspiracy. he availed himself of the resentment caused by this flaw, and instead of seeking a remedy by legitimate and constitutional means, or proposing some measure useful to society, the conspirators did their best to renew disorder and confusion, and constituted themselves personally into a directory, which is formally destructive of election and representation. they were, in fine, extravagant enough to suppose that society, occupied with its domestic affairs, would blindly yield to them a directorship usurped by violence. the conspiracy of babeuf was followed in a few months by that of the royalists, who foolishly flattered themselves with the notion of doing great things by feeble or foul means. they counted on all the discontented, from whatever cause, and tried to rouse, in their turn, the class of people who had been following the others. but these new chiefs acted as if they thought society had nothing more at heart than to maintain courtiers, pensioners, and all their train, under the contemptible title of royalty. my little essay will disabuse them, by showing that society is aiming at a very different end,--maintaining itself. we all know or should know, that the time during which a revolution is proceeding is not the time when its resulting advantages can be enjoyed. but had babeuf and his accomplices taken into consideration the condition of france under this constitution, and compared it with what it was under the tragical revolutionary government, and during the execrable reign of terror, the rapidity of the alteration must have appeared to them very striking and astonishing. famine has been replaced by abundance, and by the well-founded hope of a near and increasing prosperity. as for the defect in the constitution, i am fully convinced that it will be rectified constitutionally, and that this step is indispensable; for so long as it continues it will inspire the hopes and furnish the means of conspirators; and for the rest, it is regrettable that a constitution so wisely organized should err so much in its principle. this fault exposes it to other dangers which will make themselves felt. intriguing candidates will go about among those who have not the means to pay the direct tax and pay it for them, on condition of receiving their votes. let us maintain inviolably equality in the sacred right of suffrage: public security can never have a basis more solid. salut et fraternité. your former colleague, thomas paine. author's english preface. the following little piece was written in the winter of and ; and, as i had not determined whether to publish it during the present war, or to wait till the commencement of a peace, it has lain by me, without alteration or addition, from the time it was written. what has determined me to publish it now is, a sermon preached by watson, _bishop of llandaff_. some of my readers will recollect, that this bishop wrote a book entitled _an apology for the bible_ in answer to my _second part of the age of reason_. i procured a copy of his book, and he may depend upon hearing from me on that subject. at the end of the bishop's book is a list of the works he has written. among which is the sermon alluded to; it is entitled: "the wisdom and goodness of god, in having made both rich and poor; with an appendix, containing reflections on the present state of england and france." the error contained in this sermon determined me to publish my agrarian justice. it is wrong to say god made _rich and poor_; he made only _male and female_; and he gave them the earth for their inheritance. '... instead of preaching to encourage one part of mankind in insolence... it would be better that priests employed their time to render the general condition of man less miserable than it is. practical religion consists in doing good: and the only way of serving god is, that of endeavouring to make his creation happy. all preaching that has not this for its object is nonsense and hypocracy. the omissions are noted in the english edition of .-- _editor._. to preserve the benefits of what is called civilized life, and to remedy at the same time the evil which it has produced, ought to be considered as one of the first objects of reformed legislation. whether that state that is proudly, perhaps erroneously, called civilization, has most promoted or most injured the general happiness of man, is a question that may be strongly contested. on one side, the spectator is dazzled by splendid appearances; on the other, he is shocked by extremes of wretchedness; both of which it has erected. the most affluent and the most miserable of the human race are to be found in the countries that are called civilized. to understand what the state of society ought to be, it is necessary to have some idea of the natural and primitive state of man; such as it is at this day among the indians of north america. there is not, in that state, any of those spectacles of human misery which poverty and want present to our eyes in all the towns and streets in europe. poverty, therefore, is a thing created by that which is called civilized life. it exists not in the natural state. on the other hand, the natural state is without those advantages which flow from agriculture, arts, science, and manufactures. the life of an indian is a continual holiday, compared with the poor of europe; and, on the other hand it appears to be abject when compared to the rich. civilization, therefore, or that which is so called, has operated two ways: to make one part of society more affluent, and the other more wretched, than would have been the lot of either in a natural state. it is always possible to go from the natural to the civilized state, but it is never possible to go from the civilized to the natural state. the reason is, that man in a natural state, subsisting by hunting, requires ten times the quantity of land to range over to procure himself sustenance, than would support him in a civilized state, where the earth is cultivated. when, therefore, a country becomes populous by the additional aids of cultivation, art, and science, there is a necessity of preserving things in that state; because without it there cannot be sustenance for more, perhaps, than a tenth part of its inhabitants. the thing, therefore, now to be done is to remedy the evils and preserve the benefits that have arisen to society by passing from the natural to that which is called the civilized state. in taking the matter upon this ground, the first principle of civilization ought to have been, and ought still to be, that the condition of every person born into the world, after a state of civilization commences, ought not to be worse than if he had been born before that period. but the fact is, that the condition of millions, in every country in europe, is far worse than if they had been born before civilization began, or had been born among the indians of north america at the present day. i will shew how this fact has happened. it is a position not to be controverted that the earth, in its natural uncultivated state was, and ever would have continued to be, _the common property of the human race_. in that state every man would have been born to property. he would have been a joint life proprietor with the rest in the property of the soil, and in all its natural productions, vegetable and animal. but the earth in its natural state, as before said, is capable of supporting but a small number of inhabitants compared with what it is capable of doing in a cultivated state. and as it is impossible to separate the improvement made by cultivation from the earth itself, upon which that improvement is made, the idea of landed property arose from that inseparable connection; but it is nevertheless true, that it is the value of the improvement only, and not the earth itself, that is individual property. every proprietor, therefore, of cultivated land, owes to the community a _ground-rent_ (for i know of no better term to express the idea) for the land which he holds; and it is from this ground-rent that the fund proposed in this plan is to issue. it is deducible, as well from the nature of the thing as from all the histories transmitted to us, that the idea of landed property commenced with cultivation, and that there was no such thing as landed property before that time. it could not exist in the first state of man, that of hunters. it did not exist in the second state, that of shepherds: neither abraham, isaac, jacob, nor job, so far as the history of the bible may be credited in probable things, were owners of land. their property consisted, as is always enumerated, in flocks and herds, and they travelled with them from place to place. the frequent contentions at that time, about the use of a well in the dry country of arabia, where those people lived, also shew that there was no landed property. it was not admitted that land could be claimed as property. there could be no such thing as landed property originally. man did not make the earth, and, though he had a natural right to occupy it, he had no right to locate as his property in perpetuity any part of it; neither did the creator of the earth open a land-office, from whence the first title-deeds should issue. whence then, arose the idea of landed property? i answer as before, that when cultivation began the idea of landed property began with it, from the impossibility of separating the improvement made by cultivation from the earth itself, upon which that improvement was made. the value of the improvement so far exceeded the value of the natural earth, at that time, as to absorb it; till, in the end, the common right of all became confounded into the cultivated right of the individual. but there are, nevertheless, distinct species of rights, and will continue to be so long as the earth endures. it is only by tracing things to their origin that we can gain rightful ideas of them, and it is by gaining such ideas that we discover the boundary that divides right from wrong, and teaches every man to know his own. i have entitled this tract agrarian justice, to distinguish it from agrarian law. nothing could be more unjust than agrarian law in a country improved by cultivation; for though every man, as an inhabitant of the earth, is a joint proprietor of it in its natural state, it does not follow that he is a joint proprietor of cultivated earth. the additional value made by cultivation, after the system was admitted, became the property of those who did it, or who inherited it from them, or who purchased it. it had originally no owner. whilst, therefore, i advocate the right, and interest myself in the hard case of all those who have been thrown out of their natural inheritance by the introduction of the system of landed property, i equally defend the right of the possessor to the part which is his. cultivation is at least one of the greatest natural improvements ever made by human invention. it has given to created earth a tenfold value. but the landed monopoly that began with it has produced the greatest evil. it has dispossessed more than half the inhabitants of every nation of their natural inheritance, without providing for them, as ought to have been done, an indemnification for that loss, and has thereby created a species of poverty and wretchedness that did not exist before. in advocating the case of the persons thus dispossessed, it is a right, and not a charity, that i am pleading for. but it is that kind of right which, being neglected at first, could not be brought forward afterwards till heaven had opened the way by a revolution in the system of government. let us then do honour to revolutions by justice, and give currency to their principles by blessings. having thus in a few words, opened the merits of the case, i shall now proceed to the plan i have to propose, which is, to create a national fund, out of which there shall be paid to every person, when arrived at the age of twenty-one years, the sum of fifteen pounds sterling, as a compensation in part, for the loss of his or her natural inheritance, by the introduction of the system of landed property: and also, the sum of ten pounds per annum, during life, to every person now living, of the age of fifty years, and to all others as they shall arrive at that age. means by which the fund is to be created. i have already established the principle, namely, that the earth, in its natural uncultivated state was, and ever would have continued to be, the _common property of the human race_; that in that state, every person would have been born to property; and that the system of landed property, by its inseparable connection with cultivation, and with what is called civilized life, has absorbed the property of all those whom it dispossessed, without providing, as ought to have been done, an indemnification for that loss. the fault, however, is not in the present possessors. no complaint is intended, or ought to be alleged against them, unless they adopt the crime by opposing justice. the fault is in the system, and it has stolen imperceptibly upon the world, aided afterwards by the agrarian law of the sword. but the fault can be made to reform itself by successive generations; and without diminishing or deranging the property of any of the present possessors, the operation of the fund can yet commence, and be in full activity, the first year of its establishment, or soon after, as i shall shew. it is proposed that the payments, as already stated, be made to every person, rich or poor. it is best to make it so, to prevent invidious distinctions. it is also right it should be so, because it is in lieu of the natural inheritance, which, as a right, belongs to every man, over and above the property he may have created, or inherited from those who did. such persons as do not choose to receive it can throw it into the common fund. taking it then for granted that no person ought to be in a worse condition when born under what is called a state of civilization, than he would have been had he been born in a state of nature, and that civilization ought to have made, and ought still to make, provision for that purpose, it can only be done by subtracting from property a portion equal in value to the natural inheritance it has absorbed. various methods may be proposed for this purpose, but that which appears to be the best (not only because it will operate without deranging any present possessors, or without interfering with the collection of taxes or emprunts necessary for the purposes of government and the revolution, but because it will be the least troublesome and the most effectual, and also because the subtraction will be made at a time that best admits it) is at the moment that.. property is passing by the death of one person to the possession of another. in this case, the bequeather gives nothing: the receiver pays nothing. the only matter to him is, that the monopoly of natural inheritance, to which there never was a right, begins to cease in his person. a generous man would not wish it to continue, and a just man will rejoice to see it abolished. my state of health prevents my making sufficient inquiries with respect to the doctrine of probabilities, whereon to found calculations with such degrees of certainty as they are capable of. what, therefore, i offer on this head is more the result of observation and reflection than of received information; but i believe it will be found to agree sufficiently with fact. in the first place, taking twenty-one years as the epoch of maturity, all the property of a nation, real and personal, is always in the possession of persons above that age. it is then necessary to know, as a datum of calculation, the average of years which persons above that age will live. i take this average to be about thirty years, for though many persons will live forty, fifty, or sixty years after the age of twenty-one years, others will die much sooner, and some in every year of that time. taking, then, thirty years as the average of time, it will give, without any material variation one way or other, the average of time in which the whole property or capital of a nation, or a sum equal thereto, will have passed through one entire revolution in descent, that is, will have gone by deaths to new possessors; for though, in many instances, some parts of this capital will remain forty, fifty, or sixty years in the possession of one person, other parts will have revolved two or three times before those thirty years expire, which will bring it to that average; for were one half the capital of a nation to revolve twice in thirty years, it would produce the same fund as if the whole revolved once. taking, then, thirty years as the average of time in which the whole capital of a nation, or a sum equal thereto, will revolve once, the thirtieth part thereof will be the sum that will revolve every year, that is, will go by deaths to new possessors; and this last sum being thus known, and the ratio per cent, to be subtracted from it determined, it will give the annual amount or income of the proposed fund, to be applied as already mentioned. in looking over the discourse of the english minister, pitt, in his opening of what is called in england the budget, (the scheme of finance for the year ,) i find an estimate of the national capital of that country. as this estimate of a national capital is prepared ready to my hand, i take it as a datum to act upon. when a calculation is made upon the known capital of any nation, combined with its population, it will serve as a scale for any other nation, in proportion as its capital and population be more or less. i am the more disposed to take this estimate of mr. pitt, for the purpose of showing to that minister, upon his own calculation, how much better money may be employed than in wasting it, as he has done, on the wild project of setting up bourbon kings. what, in the name of heaven, are bourbon kings to the people of england? it is better that the people have bread. mr. pitt states the national capital of england, real and personal, to be one thousand three hundred millions sterling, which is about one-fourth part of the national capital of france, including belgia. the event of the last harvest in each country proves that the soil of france is more productive than that of england, and that it can better support twenty-four or twenty-five millions of inhabitants than that of england can seven or seven and a half millions. the thirtieth part of this capital of , , , l. is , , l. which is the part that will revolve every year by deaths in that country to new possessors; and the sum that will annually revolve in france in the proportion of four to one, will be about one hundred and seventy-three millions sterling. from this sum of , , l. annually revolving, is to be subtracted the value of the natural inheritance absorbed in it, which, perhaps, in fair justice, cannot be taken at less, and ought not to be taken for more, than a tenth part. it will always happen, that of the property thus revolving by deaths every year a part will descend in a direct line to sons and daughters, and the other part collaterally, and the proportion will be found to be about three to one; that is, about thirty millions of the above sum will descend to direct heirs, and the remaining sum of , , l. to more distant relations, and in part to strangers. considering, then, that man is always related to society, that relationship will become comparatively greater in proportion as the next of kin is more distant, it is therefore consistent with civilization to say that where there are no direct heirs society shall be heir to a part over and above the tenth part due to society. if this additional part be from five to ten or twelve per cent., in proportion as the next of kin be nearer or more remote, so as to average with the escheats that may fall, which ought always to go to society and not to the government (an addition of ten per cent, more), the produce from the annual sum of , , l. will be: [illustration: table ] having thus arrived at the annual amount of the proposed fund, i come, in the next place, to speak of the population proportioned to this fund, and to compare it with the uses to which the fund is to be applied. the population (i mean that of england) does not exceed seven millions and a half, and the number of persons above the age of fifty will in that case be about four hundred thousand. there would not, however, be more than that number that would accept the proposed ten pounds sterling per annum, though they would be entitled to it. i have no idea it would be accepted by many persons who had a yearly income of two or three hundred pounds sterling. but as we often see instances of rich people falling into sudden poverty, even at the age of sixty, they would always have the right of drawing all the arrears due to them. four millions, therefore, of the above annual sum of , , l. will be required for four hundred thousand aged persons, at ten pounds sterling each. i come now to speak of the persons annually arriving at twenty-one years of age. if all the persons who died were above the age of twenty-one years, the number of persons annually arriving at that age, must be equal to the annual number of deaths, to keep the population stationary. but the greater part die under the age of twenty-one, and therefore the number of persons annually arriving at twenty-one will be less than half the number of deaths. the whole number of deaths upon a population of seven millions and an half will be about , annually. the number arriving at twenty-one years of age will be about , . the whole number of these will not receive the proposed fifteen pounds, for the reasons already mentioned, though, as in the former case, they would be entitled to it. admitting then that a tenth part declined receiving it, the amount would stand thus: [illustration: table ] there are, in every country, a number of blind and lame persons, totally incapable of earning a livelihood. but as it will always happen that the greater number of blind persons will be among those who are above the age of fifty years, they will be provided for in that class. the remaining sum of , l. will provide for the lame and blind under that age, at the same rate of l. annually for each person. having now gone through all the necessary calculations, and stated the particulars of the plan, i shall conclude with some observations. it is not charity but a right, not bounty but justice, that i am pleading for. the present state of civilization is as odious as it is unjust. it is absolutely the opposite of what it should be, and it is necessary that a revolution should be made in it.( ) the contrast of affluence and wretchedness continually meeting and offending the eye, is like dead and living bodies chained together. though i care as little about riches, as any man, i am a friend to riches because they are capable of good. i care not how affluent some may be, provided that none be miserable in consequence of it. but it is impossible to enjoy affluence with the felicity it is capable of being enjoyed, whilst so much misery is mingled in the scene. the sight of the misery, and the unpleasant sensations it suggests, which, though they may be suffocated cannot be extinguished, are a greater drawback upon the felicity of affluence than the proposed per cent, upon property is worth. he that would not give the one to get rid of the other has no charity, even for himself. this and the preceding sentence axe omitted in all previous english and american editions.--_editor._. there are, in every country, some magnificent charities established by individuals. it is, however, but little that any individual can do, when the whole extent of the misery to be relieved is considered. he may satisfy his conscience, but not his heart. he may give all that he has, and that all will relieve but little. it is only by organizing civilization upon such principles as to act like a system of pullies, that the whole weight of misery can be removed. the plan here proposed will reach the whole. it will immediately relieve and take out of view three classes of wretchedness--the blind, the lame, and the aged poor; and it will furnish the rising generation with means to prevent their becoming poor; and it will do this without deranging or interfering with any national measures. to shew that this will be the case, it is sufficient to observe that the operation and effect of the plan will, in all cases, be the same as if every individual were _voluntarily_ to make his will and dispose of his property in the manner here proposed. but it is justice, and not charity, that is the principle of the plan. in all great cases it is necessary to have a principle more universally active than charity; and, with respect to justice, it ought not to be left to the choice of detached individuals whether they will do justice or not. considering then, the plan on the ground of justice, it ought to be the act of the whole, growing spontaneously out of the principles of the revolution, and the reputation of it ought to be national and not individual. a plan upon this principle would benefit the revolution by the energy that springs from the consciousness of justice. it would multiply also the national resources; for property, like vegetation, increases by offsets. when a young couple begin the world, the difference is exceedingly great whether they begin with nothing or with fifteen pounds apiece. with this aid they could buy a cow, and implements to cultivate a few acres of land; and instead of becoming burdens upon society, which is always the case where children are produced faster than they can be fed, would be put in the way of becoming useful and profitable citizens. the national domains also would sell the better if pecuniary aids were provided to cultivate them in small lots. it is the practice of what has unjustly obtained the name of civilization (and the practice merits not to be called either charity or policy) to make some provision for persons becoming poor and wretched only at the time they become so. would it not, even as a matter of economy, be far better to adopt means to prevent their becoming poor? this can best be done by making every person when arrived at the age of twenty-one years an inheritor of something to begin with. the rugged face of society, chequered with the extremes of affluence and want, proves that some extraordinary violence has been committed upon it, and calls on justice for redress. the great mass of the poor in all countries are become an hereditary race, and it is next to impossible for them to get cut of that state of themselves. it ought also to be observed that this mass increases in all countries that are called civilized. more persons fall annually into it than get out of it. though in a plan of which justice and humanity are the foundation-principles, interest ought not to be admitted into the calculation, yet it is always of advantage to the establishment of any plan to shew that it is beneficial as a matter of interest. the success of any proposed plan submitted to public consideration must finally depend on the numbers interested in supporting it, united with the justice of its principles. the plan here proposed will benefit all, without injuring any. it will consolidate the interest of the republic with that of the individual. to the numerous class dispossessed of their natural inheritance by the system of landed property it will be an act of national justice. to persons dying possessed of moderate fortunes it will operate as a tontine to their children, more beneficial than the sum of money paid into the fund: and it will give to the accumulation of riches a degree of security that none of the old governments of europe, now tottering on their foundations, can give. i do not suppose that more than one family in ten, in any of the countries of europe, has, when the head of the family dies, a clear property left of five hundred pounds sterling. to all such the plan is advantageous. that property would pay fifty pounds into the fund, and if there were only two children under age they would receive fifteen pounds each, (thirty pounds,) on coming of age, and be entitled to ten pounds a-year after fifty. it is from the overgrown acquisition of property that the fund will support itself; and i know that the possessors of such property in england, though they would eventually be benefited by the protection of nine-tenths of it, will exclaim against the plan. but without entering into any inquiry how they came by that property, let them recollect that they have been the advocates of this war, and that mr. pitt has already laid on more new taxes to be raised annually upon the people of england, and that for supporting the despotism of austria and the bourbons against the liberties of france, than would pay annually all the sums proposed in this plan. i have made the calculations stated in this plan, upon what is called personal, as well as upon landed property. the reason for making it upon land is already explained; and the reason for taking personal property into the calculation is equally well founded though on a different principle. land, as before said, is the free gift of the creator in common to the human race. personal property is the effect of society; and it is as impossible for an individual to acquire personal property without the aid of society, as it is for him to make land originally. separate an individual from society, and give him an island or a continent to possess, and he cannot acquire personal property. he cannot be rich. so inseparably are the means connected with the end, in all cases, that where the former do not exist the latter cannot be obtained. all accumulation, therefore, of personal property, beyond what a man's own hands produce, is derived to him by living in society; and he owes on every principle of justice, of gratitude, and of civilization, a part of that accumulation back again to society from whence the whole came. this is putting the matter on a general principle, and perhaps it is best to do so; for if we examine the case minutely it will be found that the accumulation of personal property is, in many instances, the effect of paying too little for the labour that produced it; the consequence of which is, that the working hand perishes in old age, and the employer abounds in affluence. it is, perhaps, impossible to proportion exactly the price of labour to the profits it produces; and it will also be said, as an apology for the injustice, that were a workman to receive an increase of wages daily he would not save it against old age, nor be much bet-ter for it in the interim. make, then, society the treasurer to guard it for him in a common fund; for it is no reason, that because he might not make a good use of it for himself, another should take it. the state of civilization that has prevailed throughout europe, is as unjust in its principle, as it is horrid in its effects; and it is the consciousness of this, and the apprehension that such a state cannot continue when once investigation begins in any country, that makes the possessors of property dread every idea of a revolution. it is the hazard and not the principle of revolutions that retards their progress. this being the case, it is necessary as well for the protection of property, as for the sake of justice and humanity, to form a system that, whilst it preserves one part of society from wretchedness, shall secure the other from depredation. the superstitious awe, the enslaving reverence, that formerly surrounded affluence, is passing away in all countries, and leaving the possessor of property to the convulsion of accidents. when wealth and splendour, instead of fascinating the multitude, excite emotions of disgust; when, instead of drawing forth admiration, it is beheld as an insult upon wretchedness; when the ostentatious appearance it makes serves to call the right of it in question, the case of property becomes critical, and it is only in a system of justice that the possessor can contemplate security. to remove the danger, it is necessary to remove the antipathies, and this can only be done by making property productive of a national blessing, extending to every individual. when the riches of one man above another shall increase the national fund in the same proportion; when it shall be seen that the prosperity of that fund depends on the prosperity of individuals; when the more riches a man acquires, the better it shall be for the general mass; it is then that antipathies will cease, and property be placed on the permanent basis of national interest and protection. i have no property in france to become subject to the plan i propose. what i have which is not much, is in the united states of america. but i will pay one hundred pounds sterling towards this fund in rance, the instant it shall be established; and i will pay the same sum in england whenever a similar establishment shall take place in that country. a revolution in the state of civilization is the necessary companion of revolutions in the system of government. if a revolution in any country be from bad to good, or from good to bad, the state of what is called civilization in that country, must be made conformable thereto, to give that revolution effect. despotic government supports itself by abject civilization, in which debasement of the human mind, and wretchedness in the mass of the people, are the chief enterions. such governments consider man merely as an animal; that the exercise of intellectual faculty is not his privilege; _that he has nothing to do with the laws but to obey them _; (*) and they politically depend more upon breaking the spirit of the people by poverty, than they fear enraging it by desperation. * expression of horsley, an english bishop, in the english parliament.--author. it is a revolution in the state of civilization that will give perfection to the revolution of france. already the conviction that government by representation is the true system of government is spreading itself fast in the world. the reasonableness of it can be seen by all. the justness of it makes itself felt even by its opposers. but when a system of civilization, growing out of that system of government, shall be so organized that not a man or woman born in the republic but shall inherit some means of beginning the world, and see before them the certainty of escaping the miseries that under other governments accompany old age, the revolution of france will have an advocate and an ally in the heart of all nations. an army of principles will penetrate where an army of soldiers cannot; it will succeed where diplomatic management would fail: it is neither the rhine, the channel, nor the ocean that can arrest its progress: it will march on the horizon of the world, and it will conquer. means for carrying the proposed plan into execution, and to render it at the same time conducive to the public interest. i. each canton shall elect in its primary assemblies, three persons, as commissioners for that canton, who shall take cognizance, and keep a register of all matters happening in that canton, conformable to the charter that shall be established by law for carrying this plan into execution. ii. the law shall fix the manner in which the property of deceased persons shall be ascertained. iii. when the amount of the property of any deceased person shall be ascertained, the principal heir to that property, or the eldest of the co-heirs, if of lawful age, or if under age the person authorized by the will of the deceased to represent him or them, shall give bond to the commissioners of the canton to pay the said tenth part thereof in four equal quarterly payments, within the space of one year or sooner, at the choice of the payers. one half of the whole property shall remain as a security until the bond be paid off. iv. the bond shall be registered in the office of the commissioners of the canton, and the original bonds shall be deposited in the national bank at paris. the bank shall publish every quarter of a year the amount of the bonds in its possession, and also the bonds that shall have been paid off, or what parts thereof, since the last quarterly publication. v. the national bank shall issue bank notes upon the security of the bonds in its possession. the notes so issued, shall be applied to pay the pensions of aged persons, and the compensations to persons arriving at twenty-one years of age. it is both reasonable and generous to suppose, that persons not under immediate necessity, will suspend their right of drawing on the fund, until it acquire, as it will do, a greater degree of ability. in this case, it is proposed, that an honorary register be kept, in each canton, of the names of the persons thus suspending that right, at least during the present war. vi. as the inheritors of property must always take up their bonds in four quarterly payments, or sooner if they choose, there will always be _numéraire_ [cash] arriving at the bank after the expiration of the first quarter, to exchange for the bank notes that shall be brought in. vii. the bank notes being thus put in circulation, upon the best of all possible security, that of actual property, to more than four times the amount of the bonds upon which the notes are issued, and with _numéraire_ continually arriving at the bank to exchange or pay them off whenever they shall be presented for that purpose, they will acquire a permanent value in all parts of the republic. they can therefore be received in payment of taxes, or emprunts equal to numéraire, because the government can always receive numéraire for them at the bank. viii. it will be necessary that the payments of the ten per cent, be made in numeraire for the first year from the establishment of the plan. but after the expiration of the first year, the inheritors of property may pay ten per cent either in bank notes issued upon the fund, or in numeraire, if the payments be in numeraire, it will lie as a deposit at the bank, to be exchanged for a quantity of notes equal to that amount; and if in notes issued upon the fund, it will cause a demand upon the fund, equal thereto; and thus the operation of the plan will create means to carry itself into execution. thomas paine. xxix. the eighteenth fructidor. to the people of france and the french armies ( ) this pamphlet was written between the defeat of pichegru's attempt, september , , and november , of the same year, the date of the bien-informé in which the publication is noticed. general pichegra (charles), ( - ) having joined a royalist conspiracy against the republic, was banished to cayenne ( ), whence he escaped to england; having returned to paris ( ) he was imprisoned in the temple, and there found strangled by a silk handkerchief, whether by his own or another's act remaining doubtful. --editor. when an extraordinary measure, not warranted by established constitutional rules, and justifiable only on the supreme law of absolute necessity, bursts suddenly upon us, we must, in order to form a true judgment thereon, carry our researches back to the times that preceded and occasioned it. taking up then the subject with respect to the event of the eighteenth of fructidor on this ground, i go to examine the state of things prior to that period. i begin with the establishment of the constitution of the year of the french republic. a better _organized_ constitution has never yet been devised by human wisdom. it is, in its organization, free from all the vices and defects to which other forms of government are more or less subject. i will speak first of the legislative body, because the legislature is, in the natural order of things, the first power; the executive is the first magistrate. by arranging the legislative body into two divisions, as is done in the french constitution, the one, (the council of five hundred,) whose part it is to conceive and propose laws; the other, a council of ancients, to review, approve, or reject the laws proposed; all the security is given that can arise from coolness of reflection acting upon, or correcting the precipitancy or enthusiasm of conception and imagination. it is seldom that our first thought, even upon any subject, is sufficiently just.( ) for paine's ideas on the right division of representatives into two chambers, which differ essentially from any bicameral system ever adopted, see vol. ii., p. of this work; also, in the present volume, chapter xxxiv.-- _editor._. the policy of renewing the legislature by a third part each year, though not entirely new, either in theory or in practice, is nevertheless one of the modern improvements in the science of government. it prevents, on the one hand, that convulsion and precipitate change of measures into which a nation might be surprised by the going out of the whole legislature at the same time, and the instantaneous election of a new one; on the other hand, it excludes that common interest from taking place that might tempt a whole legislature, whose term of duration expired at once, to usurp the right of continuance. i go now to speak of the executive. it is a principle uncontrovertible by reason, that each of the parts by which government is composed, should be so constructed as to be in perpetual maturity. we should laugh at the idea of a council of five hundred, or a council of ancients, or a parliament, or any national assembly, who should be all children in leading strings and in the cradle, or be all sick, insane, deaf, dumb, lame or blind, at the same time, or be all upon crutches, tottering with age or infirmities. any form of government that was so constructed as to admit the possibility of such cases happening to a whole legislature would justly be the ridicule of the world; and on a parity of reasoning, it is equally as ridiculous that the same cases should happen in that part of government which is called the executive; yet this is the contemptible condition to which an executive is always subject, and which is often happening, when it is placed in an hereditary individual called a king. when that individual is in either of the cases before mentioned, the whole executive is in the same case; for himself is the whole. he is then (as an executive) the ridiculous picture of what a legislature would be if all its members were in the same case. the one is a whole made up of parts, the other a whole without parts; and anything happening to the one, (as a part or sec-tion of the government,) is parallel to the same thing happening to the other. as, therefore, an hereditary executive called a king is a perfect absurdity in itself, any attachment to it is equally as absurd. it is neither instinct or reason; and if this attachment is what is called royalism in france, then is a royalist inferior in character to every species of the animal world; for what can that being be who acts neither by instinct nor by reason? such a being merits rather our derision than our pity; and it is only when it assumes to act its folly that it becomes capable of provoking republican indignation. in every other case it is too contemptible to excite anger. for my own part, when i contemplate the self-evident absurdity of the thing, i can scarcely permit myself to believe that there exists in the high-minded nation of france such a mean and silly animal as a royalist. as it requires but a single glance of thought to see (as is before said) that all the parts of which government is composed must be at all times in a state of full maturity, it was not possible that men acting under the influence of reason, could, in forming a constitution, admit an hereditary executive, any more than an hereditary legislature. i go therefore to examine the other cases. in the first place, (rejecting the hereditary system,) shall the executive by election be an _individual or a plurality_. an individual by election is almost as bad as the hereditary system, except that there is always a better chance of not having an idiot. but he will never be any thing more than a chief of a party, and none but those of that party will have access to him. he will have no person to consult with of a standing equal with himself, and consequently be deprived of the advantages arising from equal discussion. those whom he admits in consultation will be ministers of his own appointment, who, if they displease by their advice, must expect to be dismissed. the authority also is too great, and the business too complicated, to be intrusted to the ambition or the judgment of an individual; and besides these cases, the sudden change of measures that might follow by the going out of an individual executive, and the election of a new one, would hold the affairs of a nation in a state of perpetual uncertainty. we come then to the case of a plural executive. it must be sufficiently plural, to give opportunity to discuss all the various subjects that in the course of national business may come before it; and yet not so numerous as to endanger the necessary secrecy that certain cases, such as those of war, require. establishing, then, plurality as a principle, the only question is, what shall be the number of that plurality? three are too few either for the variety or the quantity of business. the constitution has adopted five; and experience has shewn, from the commencement of the constitution to the time of the election of the new legislative third, that this number of directors, when well chosen, is sufficient for all national executive purposes; and therefore a greater number would be only an unnecessary expence. that the measures of the directory during that period were well concerted is proved by their success; and their being well concerted shews they were well discussed; and, therefore, that five is a sufficient number with respect to discussion; and, on the other hand, the secret, whenever there was one, (as in the case of the expedition to ireland,) was well kept, and therefore the number is not too great to endanger the necessary secrecy. the reason why the two councils are numerous is not from the necessity of their being so, on account of business, but because that every part of the republic shall find and feel itself in the national representation. next to the general principle of government by representation, the excellence of the french constitution consists in providing means to prevent that abuse of power that might arise by letting it remain too long in the same hands. this wise precaution pervades every part of the constitution. not only the legislature is renewable by a third every year, but the president of each of the councils is renewable every month; and of the directory, one member each year, and its president every three months. those who formed the constitution cannot be accused of having contrived for themselves. the constitution, in this respect, is as impartially constructed as if those who framed it were to die as soon as they had finished their work. the only defect in the constitution is that of having narrowed the right of suffrage; and it is in a great measure due to this narrowing the right, that the last elections have not generally been good. my former colleagues will, i presume, pardon my saying this to day, when they recollect my arguments against this defect, at the time the constitution was discussed in the convention.( ) see chapters xxiv. and xxv., also the letter prefaced to xxviii., in this volume.--_editor._, i will close this part of the subject by remarking on one of the most vulgar and absurd sayings or dogmas that ever yet imposed itself upon the world, which is, "_that a republic is fit only for a small country, and a monarchy for a large one_." ask those who say this their reasons why it is so, and they can give none. let us then examine the case. if the quantity of knowledge in a government ought to be proportioned to the extent of a country, and the magnitude and variety of its affairs, it follows, as an undeniable result, that this absurd dogma is false, and that the reverse of it is true. as to what is called monarchy, if it be adaptable to any country it can only be so to a small one, whose concerns are few, little complicated, and all within the comprehension of an individual. but when we come to a country of large extent, vast population, and whose affairs are great, numerous, and various, it is the representative republican system only, that can collect into the government the quantity of knowledge necessary to govern to the best national advantage. montesquieu, who was strongly inclined to republican government, sheltered himself under this absurd dogma; for he had always the bastile before his eyes when he was speaking of republics, and therefore _pretended_ not to write for france. condorcet governed himself by the same caution, but it was caution only, for no sooner had he the opportunity of speaking fully out than he did it. when i say this of condorcet, i know it as a fact. in a paper published in paris, july, , entitled, "_the republican, or the defender of representative government?_" is a piece signed _thomas paine_.( ) that piece was concerted between condorcet and myself. i wrote the original in english, and condorcet translated it. the object of it was to expose the absurdity and falsehood of the above mentioned dogma. chapter ii. of this volume. see also my "life of paine," vol. i., p. .--editor. having thus concisely glanced at the excellencies of the constitution, and the superiority of the representative system of government over every other system, (if any other can be called a system,) i come to speak of the circumstances that have intervened between the time the constitution was established and the event that took place on the th of fructidor of the present year. almost as suddenly as the morning light dissipates darkness, did the establishment of the constitution change the face of affairs in france. security succeeded to terror, prosperity to distress, plenty to famine, and confidence increased as the days multiplied, until the coming of the new third. a series of victories unequalled in the world, followed each other, almost too rapidly to be counted, and too numerous to be remembered. the coalition, every where defeated and confounded, crumbled away like a ball of dust in the hand of a giant. every thing, during that period, was acted on such a mighty scale that reality appeared a dream, and truth outstript romance. it may figuratively be said, that the rhine and the rubicon (germany and italy) replied in triumphs to each other, and the echoing alps prolonged the shout. i will not here dishonour a great description by noticing too much the english government. it is sufficient to say paradoxically, that in the magnitude of its littleness it cringed, it intrigued, and sought protection in corruption. though the achievements of these days might give trophies to a nation and laurels to its heroes, they derive their full radiance of glory from the principle they inspired and the object they accomplished. desolation, chains, and slavery had marked the progress of former wars, but to conquer for liberty had never been thought of. to receive the degrading submission of a distressed and subjugated people, and insultingly permit them to live, made the chief triumph of former conquerors; but to receive them with fraternity, to break their chains, to tell them they are free, and teach them to be so, make a new volume in the history of man. amidst those national honours, and when only two enemies remained, both of whom had solicited peace, and one of them had signed preliminaries, the election of the new third commenced. every thing was made easy to them. all difficulties had been conquered before they arrived at the government. they came in the olive days of the revolution, and all they had to do was not to do mischief. it was, however, not difficult to foresee, that the elections would not be generally good. the horrid days of robespierre were still remembered, and the gratitude due to those who had put an end to them was forgotten. thousands who, by passive approbation during that tremendous scene, had experienced no suffering, assumed the merit of being the loudest against it. their cowardice in not opposing it, became courage when it was over. they exclaimed against terrorism as if they had been the heroes that overthrew it, and rendered themselves ridiculous by fantastically overacting moderation. the most noisy of this class, that i have met with, are those who suffered nothing. they became all things, at all times, to all men; till at last they laughed at principle. it was the real republicans who suffered most during the time of robespierre. the persecution began upon them on the st of may, , and ceased only by the exertions of the remnant that survived. in such a confused state of things as preceded the late elections the public mind was put into a condition of being easily deceived; and it was almost natural that the hypocrite would stand the best chance of being elected into the new third. had those who, since their election, have thrown the public affairs into confusion by counter-revolutionary measures, declared themselves beforehand, they would have been denounced instead of being chosen. deception was necessary to their success. the constitution obtained a full establishment; the revolution was considered as complete; and the war on the eve of termination. in such a situation, the mass of the people, fatigued by a long revolution, sought repose; and in their elections they looked out for quiet men. they unfortunately found hypocrites. would any of the primary assemblies have voted for a civil war? certainly they would not. but the electoral assemblies of some departments have chosen men whose measures, since their election, tended to no other end but to provoke it. either those electors have deceived their constituents of the primary assemblies, or they have been themselves deceived in the choice they made of deputies. that there were some direct but secret conspirators in the new third can scarcely admit of a doubt; but it is most reasonable to suppose that a great part were seduced by the vanity of thinking they could do better than those whom they succeeded. instead of trusting to experience, they attempted experiments. this counter-disposition prepared them to fall in with any measures contrary to former measures, and that without seeing, and probably without suspecting, the end to which they led. no sooner were the members of the new third arrived at the seat of government, than expectation was excited to see how they would act. their motions were watched by all parties, and it was impossible for them to steal a march unobserved. they had it in their power to do great good, or great mischief. a firm and manly conduct on their part, uniting with that of the directory and their colleagues, would have terminated the war. but the moment before them was not the moment of hesitation. he that hesitates in such situation is lost. the first public act of the council of five hundred was the election of pichegru to the presidency of that council. he arrived at it by a very large majority, and the public voice was in his favour. i among the rest was one who rejoiced at it. but if the defection of pichegru was at that time known to condé, and consequently to pitt, it unveils the cause that retarded all negotiations for peace.( ) they interpreted that election into a signal of a counter-revolution, and were waiting for it; and they mistook the respect shown to pichegru, founded on the supposition of his integrity, as a symptom of national revolt. judging of things by their own foolish ideas of government, they ascribed appearances to causes between which there was no connection. every thing on their part has been a comedy of errors, and the actors have been chased from the stage. louis joseph de bourbon, prince de condé ( - ), organized the french emigrants on the rhine into an army which was incorporated with that of austria but paid by england. he converted pichegru into a secret partisan of the bourbons. he ultimately returned to france with louis xviii., who made him colonel of infantry and master of the royal household.--_editor._, two or three decades of the new sessions passed away without any thing very material taking place; but matters soon began to explain themselves. the first thing that struck the public mind was, that no more was heard of negotiations for peace, and that public business stood still. it was not the object of the conspirators that there should be peace; but as it was necessary to conceal their object, the constitution was ransacked to find pretences for delays. in vain did the directory explain to them the state of the finances and the wants of the army. the committee, charged with that business, trifled away its time by a series of unproductive reports, and continued to sit only to produce more. every thing necessary to be done was neglected, and every thing improper was attempted. pichegru occupied himself about forming a national guard for the councils--the suspicious signal of war,--camille jordan about priests and bells, and the emigrants, with whom he had associated during the two years he was in england. willot and delarue attacked the directory: their object was to displace some one of the directors, to get in another of their own. their motives with respect to the age of barras (who is as old as he wishes to be, and has been a little too old for them) were too obvious not to be seen through.( ) paine's pamphlet, addressed to jordan, deals mainly with religions matters, and is reserved for oar fourth volume.-- _editor._. paul françois jean nicolas barras ( - ) was president of the directory at this time, .--_editor._. in this suspensive state of things, the public mind, filled with apprehensions, became agitated, and without knowing what it might be, looked for some extraordinary event. it saw, for it could not avoid seeing, that things could not remain long in the state they were in, but it dreaded a convulsion. that spirit of triflingness which it had indulged too freely when in a state of security, and which it is probable the new agents had interpreted into indifference about the success of the republic, assumed a serious aspect that afforded to conspiracy no hope of aid; but still it went on. it plunged itself into new measures with the same ill success, and the further it went the further the public mind retired. the conspiracy saw nothing around it to give it encouragement. the obstinacy, however, with which it persevered in its repeated attacks upon the directory, in framing laws in favour of emigrants and refractory priests, and in every thing inconsistent with the immediate safety of the republic, and which served to encourage the enemy to prolong the war, admitted of no other direct interpretation than that something was rotten in the council of five hundred. the evidence of circumstances became every day too visible not to be seen, and too strong to be explained away. even as errors, (to say no worse of them,) they are not entitled to apology; for where knowledge is a duty, ignorance is a crime. the more serious republicans, who had better opportunities than the generality had, of knowing the state of politics, began to take the alarm, and formed themselves into a society, by the name of the constitutional club. it is the only society of which i have been a member in france; and i went to this because it was become necessary that the friends of the republic should rally round the standard of the constitution. i met there several of the original patriots of the revolution; i do not mean of the last order of jacobins, but of the first of that name. the faction in the council of five hundred, who, finding no counsel from the public, began to be frightened at appearances, fortified itself against the dread of this society, by passing a law to dissolve it. the constitutionality of the law was at least doubtful: but the society, that it might not give the example of exasperating matters already too much inflamed, suspended its meetings. a matter, however, of much greater moment soon after presented itself. it was the march of four regiments, some of whom, in the line of their route, had to pass within about twelve leagues of paris, which is the boundary the constitution had fixed as the distance of any armed force from the legislative body. in another state of things, such a circumstance would not have been noticed. but conspiracy is quick of suspicion, and the fear which the faction in the council of five hundred manifested upon this occasion could not have suggested itself to innocent men; neither would innocent men have expostulated with the directory upon the case, in the manner these men did. the question they urged went to extort from the directory, and to make known to the enemy, what the destination of the troops was. the leaders of the faction conceived that the troops were marching against them; and the conduct they adopted in consequence of it was sufficient to justify the measure, even if it had been so. from what other motive than the consciousness of their own designs could they have fear? the troops, in every instance, had been the gallant defenders of the republic, and the openly declared friends of the constitution; the directory had been the same, and if the faction were not of a different description neither fear nor suspicion could have had place among them. all those manouvres in the council were acted under the most professional attachment to the constitution; and this as necessarily served to enfeeble their projects. it is exceedingly difficult, and next to impossible, to conduct a conspiracy, and still more so to give it success, in a popular government. the disguised and feigned pretences which men in such cases are obliged to act in the face of the public, suppress the action of the faculties, and give even to natural courage the features of timidity. they are not half the men they would be where no disguise is necessary. it is impossible to be a hypocrite and to be brave at the same instant. the faction, by the imprudence of its measures, upon the march of the troops, and upon the declarations of the officers and soldiers to support the republic and the constitution against all open or concealed attempts to overturn them, had gotten itself involved with the army, and in effect declared itself a party against it. on the one hand, laws were proposed to admit emigrants and refractory priests as free citizens; and on the other hand to exclude the troops from paris, and to punish the soldiers who had declared to support the republic in the mean time all negociations for peace went backward; and the enemy, still recruiting its forces, rested to take advantage of circumstances. excepting the absence of hostilities, it was a state worse than war. if all this was not a conspiracy, it had at least the features of one, and was pregnant with the same mischiefs. the eyes of the faction could not avoid being open to the dangers to which it obstinately exposed the republic; yet still it persisted. during this scene, the journals devoted to the faction were repeatedly announcing the near approach of peace with austria and with england, and often asserting that it was concluded. this falsehood could be intended for no other purpose than to keep the eyes of the people shut against the dangers to which they were exposed. taking all circumstances together, it was impossible that such a state of things could continue long; and at length it was resolved to bring it to an issue. there is good reason to believe that the affair of the th fructidor (september ) was intended to have taken place two days before; but on recollecting that it was the d of september, a day mournful in the annals of the revolution, it was postponed. when the issue arrived, the faction found to its cost it had no party among the public. it had sought its own disasters, and was left to suffer the consequences. foreign enemies, as well as those of the interior, if any such there be, ought to see in the event of this day that all expectation of aid from any part of the public in support of a counter revolution is delusion. in a state of security the thoughtless, who trembled at terror, may laugh at principles of liberty (for they have laughed) but it is one thing to indulge a foolish laugh, quite another thing to surrender liberty. considering the event of the th fructidor in a political light, it is one of those that are justifiable only on the supreme law of absolute necessity, and it is the necessity abstracted from the event that is to be deplored. the event itself is matter of joy. whether the manouvres in the council of five hundred were the conspiracy of a few, aided l>y the perverseness of many, or whether it had a deeper root, the dangers were the same. it was impossible to go on. every thing was at stake, and all national business at a stand. the case reduced itself to a simple alternative--shall the republic be destroyed by the darksome manouvres -of a faction, or shall it be preserved by an exceptional act? during the american revolution, and that after the state constitutions were established, particular cases arose that rendered it necessary to act in a manner that would have been treasonable in a state of peace. at one time congress invested general washington with dictatorial power. at another time the government of pennsylvania suspended itself and declared martial law. it was the necessity of the times only that made the apology of those extraordinary measures. but who was it that produced the necessity of an extraordinary measure in france? a faction, and that in the face of prosperity and success. its conduct is without apology; and it is on the faction only that the exceptional measure has fallen. the public has suffered no inconvenience. if there are some men more disposed than others not to act severely, i have a right to place myself in that class; the whole of my political life invariably proves it; yet i cannot see, taking all parts of the case together, what else, or what better, could have been done, than has been done. it was a great stroke, applied in a great crisis, that crushed in an instant, and without the loss of a life, all the hopes of the enemy, and restored tranquillity to the interior. the event was ushered in by the discharge of two cannon at four in the morning, and was the only noise that was heard throughout the day. it naturally excited a movement among the parisians to enquire the cause. they soon learned it, and the countenance they carried was easy to be interpreted. it was that of a people who, for some time past, had been oppressed with apprehensions of some direful event, and who felt themselves suddenly relieved, by finding what it was. every one went about his business, or followed his curiosity in quietude. it resembled the cheerful tranquillity of the day when louis xvi. absconded in , and like that day it served to open the eyes of the nation. if we take a review of the various events, as well conspiracies as commotions, that have succeeded each other in this revolution, we shall see how the former have wasted consumptively away, and the consequences of the latter have softened. the st may and its consequences were terrible. that of the th and th thermidor, though glorious for the republic, as it overthrew one of the most horrid and cruel despotisms that ever raged, was nevertheless marked with many circumstances of severe and continued retaliation. the commotions of germinal and prairial of the year , and of vendemaire of the year , were many degrees below those that preceded them, and affected but a small part of the public. this of pichegru and his associates has been crushed in an instant, without the stain of blood, and without involving the public in the least inconvenience. these events taken in a series, mark the progress of the republic from disorder to stability. the contrary of this is the case in all parts of the british dominions. there, commotions are on an ascending scale; every one is higher than the former. that of the sailors had nearly been the overthrow of the government. but the most potent of all is the invisible commotion in the bank. it works with the silence of time, and the certainty of death. every thing happening in france is curable; but this is beyond the reach of nature or invention. leaving the event of the th fructidor to justify itself by the necessity that occasioned it, and glorify itself by the happiness of its consequences, i come to cast a coup-d'oil on the present state of affairs. we have seen by the lingering condition of the negociations for peace, that nothing was to be expected from them, in the situation that things stood prior to the th fructidor. the armies had done wonders, but those wonders were rendered unproductive by the wretched manouvres of a faction. new exertions are now necessary to repair the mischiefs which that faction has done. the electoral bodies, in some departments, who by an injudicious choice, or a corrupt influence, have sent improper deputies to the legislature, have some atonement to make to their country. the evil originated with them, and the least they can do is to be among the foremost to repair it. it is, however, in vain to lament an evil that is past. there is neither manhood nor policy in grief; and it often happens that an error in politics, like an error in war, admits of being turned to greater advantage than if it had not occurred. the enemy, encouraged by that error, presumes too much, and becomes doubly foiled by the re-action. england, unable to conquer, has stooped to corrupt; and defeated in the last, as in the first, she is in a worse condition than before. continually increasing her crimes, she increases the measure of her atonement, and multiplies the sacrifices she must make to obtain peace. nothing but the most obstinate stupidity could have induced her to let slip the opportunity when it was within her reach. in addition to the prospect of new expenses, she is now, to use mr. pitt's own figurative expression against france, _not only on the brink, but in the gulph of bankruptcy_. there is no longer any mystery in paper money. call it assignats, mandats, exchequer bills, or bank notes, it is still the same. time has solved the problem, and experience has fixed its fate.( ) see chapter xxvi. of this volume.--_editor._. the government of that unfortunate country discovers its faithlessness so much, that peace on any terms with her is scarcely worth obtaining. of what use is peace with a government that will employ that peace for no other purpose than to repair, as far as it is possible, her shattered finances and broken credit, and then go to war again? four times within the last ten years, from the time the american war closed, has the anglo-germanic government of england been meditating fresh war. first with france on account of holland, in ; afterwards with russia; then with spain, on account of nootka sound; and a second time against france, to overthrow her revolution. sometimes that government employs prussia against austria; at another time austria against prussia; and always one or the other, or both against france. peace with such a government is only a treacherous cessation of hostilities. the frequency of wars on the part of england, within the last century, more than before, must have had some cause that did not exist prior to that epoch. it is not difficult to discover what that cause is. it is the mischievous compound of an elector of the germanic body and a king of england; and which necessarily must, at some day or other, become an object of attention to france. that one nation has not a right to interfere in the internal government of another nation, is admitted; and in this point of view, france has no right to dictate to england what its form of government shall be. if it choose to have a thing called a king, or whether that king shall be a man or an ass, is a matter with which france has no business. but whether an elector of the germanic body shall be king of england, is an _external_ case, with which france and every other nation, who suffers inconvenience and injury in consequence of it, has a right to interfere. it is from this mischievous compound of elector and king, that originates a great part of the troubles that vex the continent of europe; and with respect to england, it has been the cause of her immense national debt, the ruin of her finances, and the insolvency of her bank. all intrigues on the continent, in which england is a party, or becomes involved, are generated by, and act through, the medium of this anglo-germanic compound. it will be necessary to dissolve it. let the elector retire to his electorate, and the world will have peace. england herself has given examples of interference in matters of this kind, and that in cases where injury was only apprehended. she engaged in a long and expensive war against france (called the succession war) to prevent a grandson of louis the fourteenth being king of spain; because, said she, _it will be injurious_ to me; and she has been fighting and intriguing against what was called the family-compact ever since. in she threatened france with war to prevent a connection between france and hoi-land; and in all her propositions of peace to-day she is dictating separations. but if she look at the anglo-germanic compact at home, called the hanover succession, she cannot avoid seeing that france necessarily must, some day or other, take up that subject, and make the return of the elector to his electorate one of the conditions of peace. there will be no lasting peace between the two countries till this be done, and the sooner it be done the better will it be for both. i have not been in any company where this matter aas been a topic, that did not see it in the light it is here stated. even barthélémy,( ) when he first came to the directory (and barthélémy was never famous for patriotism) acknowledged in my hearing, and in company with derché, secretary to the legation at lille, the connection of an elector of germany and a king of england to be injurious to france. i do not, however, mention it from a wish to embarrass the negociation for peace. the directory has fixed its _ultimatum_; but if that ultimatum be rejected, the obligation to adhere to it is discharged, and a new one may be assumed. so wretchedly has pitt managed his opportunities» that every succeeding negociation has ended in terms more against him than the former. if the directory had bribed him, he could not serve his interest better than he does. he serves it as lord north served that of america, which finished in the discharge of his master.* marquis de barthélémy (françois) ( - ) entered the directory in june, , through royalist influence. he shared pichegru's banishment, and subsequently became an agent of louis xviii.--_editor._ * the father of pitt, when a member of the house of commons, exclaiming one day, during a former war, against the enormous and ruinous expense of german connections, as the offspring of the hanover succession, and borrowing a metaphor from the story of prometheus, cried out: "thus, hie prometheus, is britain chained to the barren rock of hanover; whilst the imperial eagle preys upon her vitals."-- author. thus far i had written when the negociation at lille became suspended, in consequence of which i delayed the publication, that the ideas suggested in this letter might not intrude themselves during the interval. the _ultimatum_ offered by the directory, as the terms of peace, was more moderate than the government of england had a right to expect. that government, though the provoker of the war, and the first that committed hostilities by sending away the ambassador chauvelin,(**) had formerly talked of demanding from france, _indemnification for the past and security for the future_. france, in her turn, might have retorted, and demanded the same from england; but she did not. as it was england that, in consequence of her bankruptcy, solicited peace, france offered it to her on the simple condition of her restoring the islands she had taken. the ultimatum has been rejected, and the negociation broken off. the spirited part of france will say, _tant mieux_, so much the better. ** it was stipulated in the treaty of commerce between france and england, concluded at paris, that the sending away an ambassador by either party, should be taken as an act of hostility by the other party. the declaration of war (feb. m * ) by the convention, of which i was then a member and know well the case, was made in exact conformity to this article in the treaty; for it was not a declaration of war against england, but a declaration that the french republic is in war with england; the first act of hostility having been committed by england. the declaration was made immediately on chauvelin's return to france, and in consequence of it. mr. pitt should inform himself of things better than he does, before he prates so much about them, or of the sending away of malmesbury, who was only on a visit of permission.--author. how the people of england feel on the breaking up of the negociation, which was entirely the act of their own government, is best known to themselves; but from what i know of the two nations, france ought to hold herself perfectly indifferent about a peace with the government of england. every day adds new strength to france and new embarrassments to her enemy. the resources of the one increase, as those of the other become exhausted. england is now reduced to the same system of paper money from which france has emerged, and we all know the inevitable fate of that system. it is not a victory over a few ships, like that on the coast of holland, that gives the least support or relief to a paper system. on the news of this victory arriving in england, the funds did not rise a farthing. the government rejoiced, but its creditors were silent. it is difficult to find a motive, except in folly and madness, for the conduct of the english government. every calculation and prediction of mr. pitt has turned out directly the contrary; yet still he predicts. he predicted, with all the solemn assurance of a magician, that france would be bankrupt in a few months. he was right as to the thing, but wrong as to the place, for the bankruptcy happened in england whilst the words were yet warm upon his lips. to find out what will happen, it is only necessary to know what mr. pitt predicts. he is a true prophet if taken in the reverse. such is the ruinous condition that england is now in, that great as the difficulties of war are to the people, the difficulties that would accompany peace are equally as great to the government. whilst the war continues, mr. pitt has a pretence for shutting up the bank. but as that pretence could last no longer than the war lasted, he dreads the peace that would expose the absolute bankruptcy of the government, and unveil to a deceived nation the ruinous effect of his measures. peace would be a day of accounts to him, and he shuns it as an insolvent debtor shuns a meeting of his creditors. war furnishes him with many pretences; peace would furnish him with none, and he stands alarmed at its consequences. his conduct in the negociation at lille can be easily interpreted. it is not for the sake of the nation that he asks to retain some of the taken islands; for what are islands to a nation that has already too many for her own good, or what are they in comparison to the expense of another campaign in the present depreciating state of the english funds? (and even then those islands must be restored.) no, it is not for the sake of the nation that he asks. it is for the sake of himself. it is as if he said to france, give me some pretence, cover me from disgrace when my day of reckoning comes! any person acquainted with the english government knows that every minister has some dread of what is called in england the winding up of accounts at the end of a war; that is, the final settlement of all expenses incurred by the war; and no minister had ever so great cause of dread as mr. pitt. a burnt child dreads the fire, and pitt has had some experience upon this case. the winding up of accounts at the end of the american war was so great, that, though he was not the cause of it, and came into the ministry with great popularity, he lost it all by undertaking, what was impossible for him to avoid, the voluminous business of the winding up. if such was the case in settling the accounts of his predecessor, how much more has he to apprehend when the accounts to be settled are his own? all men in bad circumstances hate the settlement of accounts, and pitt, as a minister, is of that description. but let us take a view of things on a larger ground than the case of a minister. it will then be found, that england, on a comparison of strength with france, when both nations are disposed to exert their utmost, has no possible chance of success. the efforts that england made within the last century were not generated on the ground of _natural ability_, but of _artificial anticipations_. she ran posterity into debt, and swallowed up in one generation the resources of several generations yet to come, till the project can be pursued no longer. it is otherwise in france. the vastness of her territory and her population render the burden easy that would make a bankrupt of a country like england. it is not the weight of a thing, but the numbers who are to bear that weight, that makes it feel light or heavy to the shoulders of those who bear it. a land-tax of half as much in the pound as the land-tax is in england, will raise nearly four times as much revenue in france as is raised in england. this is a scale easily understood, by which all the other sections of productive revenue can be measured. judge then of the difference of natural ability. england is strong in a navy; but that navy costs about eight millions sterling a-year, and is one of the causes that has hastened her bankruptcy. the history of navy bills sufficiently proves this. but strong as england is in this case, the fate of navies must finally be decided by the natural ability of each country to carry its navy to the greatest extent; and france is able to support a navy twice as large as that of england, with less than half the expense per head on the people, which the present navy of england costs. we all know that a navy cannot be raised as expeditiously as an army. but as the average duration of a navy, taking the decay of time, storms, and all circumstances and accidents together, is less than twenty years, every navy must be renewed within that time; and france at the end of a few years, can create and support a navy of double the extent of that of england; and the conduct of the english government will provoke her to it. but of what use are navies otherwise than to make or prevent invasions? commercially considered, they are losses. they scarcely give any protection to the commerce of the countries which have them, compared with the expense of maintaining them, and they insult the commerce of the nations that are neutral. during the american war, the plan of the armed neutrality was formed and put in execution: but it was inconvenient, expensive, and ineffectual. this being the case, the problem is, does not commerce contain within itself, the means of its own protection? it certainly does, if the neutral nations will employ that means properly. instead then of an _armed neutrality_, the plan should be directly the contrary. it should be an _unarmed neutrality_. in the first place, the rights of neutral nations are easily defined. they are such as are exercised by nations in their intercourse with each other in time of peace, and which ought not, and cannot of right, be interrupted in consequence of war breaking out between any two or more of them. taking this as a principle, the next thing is to give it effect. the plan of the armed neutrality was to effect it by threatening war; but an unarmed neutrality can effect it by much easier and more powerful means. were the neutral nations to associate, under an honourable injunction of fidelity to each other, and publicly declare to the world, that if any belligerent power shall seize or molest any ship or vessel belonging to the citizens or subjects of any of the powers composing that association, that the whole association will shut its ports against the flag of the offending nation, and will not permit any goods, wares, or merchandise, produced or manufactured in the offending nation, or appertaining thereto, to be imported into any of the ports included in the association, until reparation be made to the injured party,--the reparation to be three times the value of the vessel and cargo,--and moreover that all remittances on money, goods, and bills of exchange, do cease to be made to the offending nation, until the said reparation be made: were the neutral nations only to do this, which it is their direct interest to do, england, as a nation depending on the commerce of neutral nations in time of war, dare not molest them, and france would not. but whilst, from the want of a common system, they individually permit england to do it, because individually they cannot resist it, they put france under the necessity of doing the same thing. the supreme of all laws, in all cases, is that of self-preservation. as the commerce of neutral nations would thus be protected by the means that commerce naturally contains within itself, all the naval operations of france and england would be confined within the circle of acting against each other: and in that case it needs no spirit of prophecy to discover that france must finally prevail. the sooner this be done, the better will it be for both nations, and for all the world. thomas paine.( ) paine had already prepared his "maritime compact," and devised the rainbow flag, which was to protect commerce, the substance and history of which constitutes his seventh letter to the people of the united states, chapter xxxiii. of the present volume. he sent the articles of his proposed international association to the minister of foreign relations, talleyrand, who responded with a cordial letter. the articles of "maritime compact," translated into french by nicolas bouneville, were, in , sent to all the ministers of foreign affairs in europe, and to the ambassadors in paris.--_editor._, xxx. the recall of monroe. ( ) monroe, like edmund randolph and thomas paine, was sacrificed to the new commercial alliance with great britain. the cabinet of washington were entirely hostile to france, and in their determination to replace monroe were assisted by gouverneur morris, still in europe, who wrote to president washington calumnies against that minister. in a letter of december , , morris tells washington that he had heard from a trusted informant that monroe had said to several frenchmen that "he had no doubt but that, if they would do what was proper here, he and his friends would turn out washington." on july , , the cabinet ministers, pickering, wolcott, and mo-henry, wrote to the president their joint opinion that the interests of the united states required monroe's recall, and slanderously connected him with anonymous letters from france written by m. montflorence. the recall, dated august , , reached monroe early in november. it alluded to certain "concurring circumstances," which induced his removal, and these "hidden causes" (in paine's phrase) monroe vainly demanded on his return to america early in . the directory, on notification of monroe's recall, resolved not to recognize his successor, and the only approach to an american minister in paris for the remainder of the century was thomas paine, who was consulted by the foreign ministers, de la croix and talleyrand, and by napoleon. on the approach of c. c. pinckney, as successor to monroe, paine feared that his dismissal might entail war, and urged the minister (de la croix) to regard pinckney,--nominated in a recess of the senate,--as in "suspension" until confirmed by that body. there might be unofficial "pourparlers," with him. this letter (state archives, paris, Ã�tats unis, vol. , fol. ) was considered for several days before pinckney reached paris (december , ), but the directory considered that it was not a "dignified" course, and pinckney was ordered to leave french territory, under the existing decree against foreigners who had no permit to remain.--_editor._. paris, sept. , . editors of the bien-in formé. citizens: in your th number of the complementary th, you gave an analysis of the letters of james monroe to timothy pickering. the newspapers of paris and the departments have copied this correspondence between the ambassador of the united states and the secretary of state. i notice, however, that a few of them have omitted some important facts, whilst indulging in comments of such an extraordinary nature that it is clear they know neither monroe's integrity nor the intrigues of pitt in this affair. the recall of monroe is connected with circumstances so important to the interests of france and the united states, that we must be careful not to confound it with the recall of an ordinary individual. the washington faction had affected to spread it abroad that james monroe was the cause of rupture between the two republics. this accusation is a perfidious and calumnious one; since the main point in this affair is not so much the recall of a worthy, enlightened and republican minister, as the ingratitude and clandestine manoeuvering of the government of washington, who caused the misunderstanding by signing a treaty injurious to the french republic. james monroe, in his letters, does not deny the right of government to withdraw its confidence from any one of its delegates, representatives, or agents. he has hinted, it is true, that caprice and temper are not in accordance with the spirit of paternal rule, and that whenever a representative government punishes or rewards, good faith, integrity and justice should replace _the good pleasure of kings_. in the present case, they have done more than recall an agent. had they confined themselves to depriving him of his appointment, james monroe would have kept silence; but he has been accused of lighting the torch of discord in both republics. the refutation of this absurd and infamous reproach is the chief object of his correspondence. if he did not immediately complain of these slanders in his letters of the th and th [july], it is because he wished to use at first a certain degree of caution, and, if it were possible, to stifle intestine troubles at their birth. he wished to reopen the way to peaceful negotiations to be conducted with good faith and justice. the arguments of the secretary of state on the rights of the supreme administration of the united states are peremptory; but the observations of monroe on the hidden causes of his recall are touching; they come from the heart; they are characteristic of an excellent citizen. if he does more than complain of his unjust recall as a man of feeling would; if he proudly asks for proofs of a grave accusation, it is after he has tried in vain every honest and straightforward means. he will not suffer that a government, sold to the enemies of freedom, should discharge upon him its shame, its crimes, its ingratitude, and all the odium of its unjust dealings. were monroe to find himself an object of public hatred, the republican party in the united states, that party which is the sincere ally of france, would be annihilated, and this is the aim of the english government. imagine the triumph of pitt, if monroe and the other friends of freedom in america, should be unjustly attacked in france! monroe does not lay his cause before the senate since the senate itself ratified the unconstitutional treaty; he appeals to the house of representatives, and at the same time lays his cause before the upright tribunal of the american nation. xxxi. private letter to president jefferson. paris, october , . dear sir,--i wrote to you from havre by the ship dublin packet in the year . it was then my intention to return to america; but there were so many british frigates cruising in sight of the port, and which after a few days knew that i was at havre waiting to go to america, that i did not think it best to trust myself to their discretion, and the more so, as i had no confidence in the captain of the dublin packet (clay).( ) i mentioned to you in that letter, which i believe you received thro' the hands of colonel [aaron] burr, that i was glad since you were not president that you had accepted the nomination of vice president. the commissioners ellsworth & co.( ) have been here about eight months, and three more useless mortals never came upon public business. their presence appears to me to have been rather an injury than a benefit. they set themselves up for a faction as soon as they arrived. i was then in belgia.( ) upon my return to paris i learnt they had made a point of not returning the visits of mr. skipwith and barlow, because, they said, they had not the confidence of the executive. every known republican was treated in the same manner. i learned from mr. miller of philadelphia, who had occasion to see them upon business, that they did not intend to return my visit, if i made one. this, i supposed, it was intended i should know, that i might not make one. it had the contrary effect. i went to see mr. ellsworth. i told him, i did not come to see him as a commissioner, nor to congratulate him upon his mission; that i came to see him because i had formerly known him in congress. "i mean not," said i, "to press you with any questions, or to engage you in any conversation upon the business you are come upon, but i will nevertheless candidly say that i know not what expectations the government or the people of america may have of your mission, or what expectations you may have yourselves, but i believe you will find you can do but little. the treaty with england lies at the threshold of all your business. the american government never did two more foolish things than when it signed that treaty and recalled mr. monroe, who was the only man could do them any service." mr. ellsworth put on the dull gravity of a judge, and was silent. i added, "you may perhaps make a treaty like that you have made with england, which is a surrender of the rights of the american flag; for the principle that neutral ships make neutral property must be general or not at all." i then changed the subject, for i had all the talk to myself upon this topic, and enquired after samuel adams, (i asked nothing about john,) mr. jefferson, mr. monroe, and others of my friends; and the melancholy case of the yellow fever,--of which he gave me as circumstantial an account as if he had been summing up a case to a jury. here my visit ended, and had mr. ellsworth been as cunning as a statesman, or as wise as a judge, he would have returned my visit that he might appear insensible of the intention of mine. the packet was indeed searched for paine by a british cruiser.--_editor._ oliver ellsworth (chief justice), w. v. murray, and w. r. davie, were sent by president adams to france to negotiate a treaty. in this they failed, but a convention was signed september , , which terminated the treaty of , which had become a source of discord, and prepared the way for the negotiations of livingston and monroe in .-- _editor._ paine had visited his room-mate in luxembourg prison, vanhuele, who was now mayor of bruges.--_editor._. i now come to the affairs of this country and of europe. you will, i suppose, have heard before this arrives to you, of the battle of marengo in italy, where the austrians were defeated--of the armistice in consequence thereof, and the surrender of milan, genoa etc. to the french--of the successes of the french army in germany--and the extension of the armistice in that quarter--of the preliminaries of peace signed at paris--of the refusal of the emperor [of austria] to ratify these preliminaries--of the breaking of the armistice by the french government in consequence of that refusal--of the "gallant" expedition of the emperor to put himself at the head of his army--of his pompous arrival there--of his having made his will--of prayers being put in all his churches for the preservation of the life of this hero--of general moreau announcing to him, immediately on his arrival at the army, that hostilities would commence the day after the next at sunrise unless he signed the treaty or gave security that he would sign within days--of his surrendering up three of the principal keys of germany (ulm, philipsbourg, and ingolstadt) as security that he would sign them. this is the state things are now in, at the time of writing this letter; but it is proper to add that the refusal of the emperor to sign the preliminaries was motived upon a note from the king of england to be admitted to the congress for negociating peace, which was consented to by the french upon the condition of an armistice at sea, which england, before knowing of the surrender the emperor had made, had refused. from all which it appears to me, judging from circumstances, that the emperor is now so compleatly in the hands of the french, that he has no way of getting out but by a peace. the congress for the peace is to be held at lunéville, a town in france. since the affair of rastadt the french commissioners will not trust themselves within the emperor's territory. i now come to domestic affairs. i know not what the commissioners have done, but from a paper i enclose to you, which appears to have some authority, it is not much. the paper as you will perceive is considerably prior to this letter. i know that the commissioners before this piece appeared intended setting off. it is therefore probable that what they have done is conformable to what this paper mentions, which certainly will not atone for the expence their mission has incurred, neither are they, by all the accounts i hear of them, men fitted for the business. but independently of these matters there appears to be a state of circumstances rising, which if it goes on, will render all partial treaties unnecessary. in the first place i doubt if any peace will be made with england; and in the second place, i should not wonder to see a coalition formed against her, to compel her to abandon her insolence on the seas. this brings me to speak of the manuscripts i send you. the piece no. i, without any title, was written in consequence of a question put to me by bonaparte. as he supposed i knew england and english politics he sent a person to me to ask, that in case of negociating a peace with austria, whether it would be proper to include england. this was when count st. julian was in paris, on the part of the emperor negociating the preliminaries:--which as i have before said the emperor refused to sign on the pretence of admitting england. the piece no. , entitled _on the jacobinism of the english at sea_, was written when the english made their insolent and impolitic expedition to denmark, and is also an auxiliary to the politic of no. i. i shewed it to a friend [bonneville] who had it translated into french, and printed in the form of a pamphlet, and distributed gratis among the foreign ministers, and persons in the government. it was immediately copied into several of the french journals, and into the official paper, the moniteur. it appeared in this paper one day before the last dispatch arrived from egypt; which agreed perfectly with what i had said respecting egypt. it hit the two cases of denmark and egypt in the exact proper moment. the piece no. , entitled _compact maritime_, is the sequel of no. , digested in form. it is translating at the time i write this letter, and i am to have a meeting with the senator garat upon the subject. the pieces and go off in manuscript to england, by a confidential person, where they will be published.( ) the substance of most of these "pieces" are embodied in paine's seventh letter to the people of the united states (infra p. ).--_editor._ by all the news we get from the north there appears to be something meditating against england. it is now given for certain that paul has embargoed all the english vessels and english property in russia till some principle be established for protecting the rights of neutral nations, and securing the liberty of the seas. the preparations in denmark continue, notwithstanding the convention that she has made with england, which leaves the question with respect to the right set up by england to stop and search neutral vessels undecided. i send you the paragraphs upon the subject. the tumults are great in all parts of england on account of the excessive price of corn and bread, which has risen since the harvest. i attribute it more to the abundant increase of paper, and the non-circulation of cash, than to any other cause. people in trade can push the paper off as fast as they receive it, as they did by continental money in america; but as farmers have not this opportunity, they endeavor to secure themselves by going considerably in advance. i have now given you all the great articles of intelligence, for i trouble not myself with little ones, and consequently not with the commissioners, nor any thing they are about, nor with john adams, otherwise than to wish him safe home, and a better and wiser man in his place. in the present state of circumstances and the prospects arising from them, it may be proper for america to consider whether it is worth her while to enter into any treaty at this moment, or to wait the event of those circumstances which if they go on will render partial treaties useless by deranging them. but if, in the mean time, she enters into any treaty it ought to be with a condition to the following purpose: reserving to herself the right of joining in an association of nations for the protection of the rights of neutral commerce and the security of the liberty of the seas. the pieces , , may go to the press. they will make a small pamphlet and the printers are welcome to put my name to it. (it is best it should be put.) from thence they will get into the newspapers. i know that the faction of john adams abuses me pretty heartily. they are welcome. it does not disturb me, and they lose their labour; and in return for it i am doing america more service, as a neutral nation, than their expensive commissioners can do, and she has that service from me for nothing. the piece no. is only for your own amusement and that of your friends. i come now to speak confidentially to you on a private subject. when mr. ellsworth and davie return to america, murray will return to holland, and in that case there will be nobody in paris but mr. skipwith that has been in the habit of transacting business with the french government since the revolution began. he is on a good standing with them, and if the chance of the day should place you in the presidency you cannot do better than appoint him for any purpose you may have occasion for in france. he is an honest man and will do his country justice, and that with civility and good manners to the government he is commissioned to act with; a faculty which that northern bear timothy pickering wanted, and which the bear of that bear, john adams, never possessed. i know not much of mr. murray, otherwise than of his unfriendliness to every american who is not of his faction, but i am sure that joel barlow is a much fitter man to be in holland than mr. murray. it is upon the fitness of the man to the place that i speak, for i have not communicated a thought upon the subject to barlow, neither does he know, at the time of my writing this (for he is at havre), that i have intention to do it. i will now, by way of relief, amuse you with some account of the progress of iron bridges. [here follows an account of the building of the iron bridge at sunderland, england, and some correspondence with mr. milbanke, m. p., which will be given more fully and precisely in a chapter of vol. iv. (appendix), on iron bridges, and is therefore omitted here.] i have now made two other models [of bridges]. one is pasteboard, five feet span and five inches of height from the cords. it is in the opinion of every person who has seen it one of the most beautiful objects the eye can behold. i then cast a model in metal following the construction of that in paste-board and of the same dimensions. the whole was executed in my own chamber. it is far superior in strength, elegance, and readiness in execution to the model i made in america, and which you saw in paris.( ) i shall bring those models with me when i come home, which will be as soon as i can pass the seas in safety from the piratical john bulls. i suppose you have seen, or have heard of the bishop of landaff's answer to my second part of the age of reason. as soon as i got a copy of it i began a third part, which served also as an answer to the bishop; but as soon as the clerical society for promoting _christian knowledge_ knew of my intention to answer the bishop, they prosecuted, as a society, the printer of the first and second parts, to prevent that answer appearing. no other reason than this can be assigned for their prosecuting at the time they did, because the first part had been in circulation above three years and the second part more than one, and they prosecuted immediately on knowing that i was taking up their champion. the bishop's answer, like mr. burke's attack on the french revolution, served me as a back-ground to bring forward other subjects upon, with more advantage than if the background was not there. this is the motive that induced me to answer him, otherwise i should have gone on without taking any notice of him. i have made and am still making additions to the manuscript, and shall continue to do so till an opportunity arrive for publishing it. "these models exhibit an extraordinary degree not only of skill, but of taste, and are wrought with extreme delicacy entirely by his own hands. the largest is nearly four feet in length; the iron-works, the chains, and every other article belonging to it, were forged and manufactured by himself. it is intended as the model of a bridge which is to be constructed across the delaware, extending feet, with only one arch. the other is to be erected over a lesser river, whose name i forget, and is likewise a single arch, and of his own workmanship, excepting the chains, which, instead of iron, are cut out of paste-hoard by the fair hand of his correspondent, the 'little corner of the world' (lady smyth), whose indefatigable perseverance is extraordinary. he was offered £ for these models and refused it."-- yorke's _letters from france_, these models excited much admiration in washington and philadelphia. they remained for a long time in peale's museum at philadelphia, but no trace is left of them.--_editor._ if any american frigate should come to france, and the direction of it fall to you, i will be glad you would give me the opportunity of returning. the abscess under which i suffered almost two years is entirely healed of itself, and i enjoy exceeding good health. this is the first of october, and mr. skipwith has just called to tell me the commissioners set off for havre to-morrow. this will go by the frigate but not with the knowledge of the commissioners. remember me with much affection to my friends and accept the same to yourself. thomas paine. xxxii. proposal that louisiana be purchased.( ) (sent to the president, christmas day, .) paine, being at lovell's hotel, washington, suggested the purchase of louisiana to dr. michael leib, representative from pennsylvania, who, being pleased with the idea, suggested that he should write it to jefferson. on the day after its reception the president told paine that "measures were already taken in that business."--_editor._. spain has ceded louisiana to france, and france has excluded americans from new orleans, and the navigation of the mississippi. the people of the western territory have complained of it to their government, and the government is of consequence involved and interested in the affair. the question then is--what is the best step to be taken? the one is to begin by memorial and remonstrance against an infraction of a right. the other is by accommodation,--still keeping the right in view, but not making it a groundwork. suppose then the government begin by making a proposal to france to re-purchase the cession made to her by spain, of louisiana, provided it be with the consent of the people of louisiana, or a majority thereof. by beginning on this ground any thing can be said without carrying the appearance of a threat. the growing power of the western territory can be stated as a matter of information, and also the impossibility of restraining them from seizing upon new orleans, and the equal impossibility of france to prevent it. suppose the proposal attended to, the sum to be given comes next on the carpet. this, on the part of america, will be estimated between the value of the commerce and the quantity of revenue that louisiana will produce. the french treasury is not only empty, but the government has consumed by anticipation a great part of the next year's revenue. a monied proposal will, i believe, be attended to; if it should, the claims upon france can be stipulated as part of the payment, and that sum can be paid here to the claimants. ----i congratulate you on _the birthday of the new sun_, now called christmas day; and i make you a present of a thought on louisiana. t.p. xxxiii. thomas paine to the citizens of the united states, and particularly to the leaders of the federal faction, letter i.( ) the national intelligencer, november th. the venerable mr. gales, so long associated with this paper, had been in youth a prosecuted adherent of paine in sheffield, england. the paper distinguished itself by the kindly welcome it gave paine on his return to america. (see issues of nov. and , .) paine landed at baltimore, oct. th.--_editor._, after an absence of almost fifteen years, i am again returned to the country in whose dangers i bore my share, and to whose greatness i contributed my part. when i sailed for europe, in the spring of , it was my intention to return to america the next year, and enjoy in retirement the esteem of my friends, and the repose i was entitled to. i had stood out the storm of one revolution, and had no wish to embark in another. but other scenes and other circumstances than those of contemplated ease were allotted to me. the french revolution was beginning to germinate when i arrived in france. the principles of it were good, they were copied from america, and the men who conducted it were honest. but the fury of faction soon extinguished the one, and sent the other to the scaffold. of those who began that revolution, i am almost the only survivor, and that through a thousand dangers. i owe this not to the prayers of priests, nor to the piety of hypocrites, but to the continued protection of providence. but while i beheld with pleasure the dawn of liberty rising in europe, i saw with regret the lustre of it fading in america. in less than two years from the time of my departure some distant symptoms painfully suggested the idea that the principles of the revolution were expiring on the soil that produced them. i received at that time a letter from a female literary correspondent, and in my answer to her, i expressed my fears on that head.( ) i now know from the information i obtain upon the spot, that the impressions that then distressed me, for i was proud of america, were but too well founded. she was turning her back on her own glory, and making hasty strides in the retrograde path of oblivion. but a spark from the altar of _seventy-six_, unextinguished and unextinguishable through the long night of error, is again lighting up, in every part of the union, the genuine name of rational liberty. as the french revolution advanced, it fixed the attention of the world, and drew from the pensioned pen ( ) of edmund burke a furious attack. this brought me once more on the public theatre of politics, and occasioned the pamphlet _rights of man_. it had the greatest run of any work ever published in the english language. the number of copies circulated in england, scotland, and ireland, besides translations into foreign languages, was between four and five hundred thousand. the principles of that work were the same as those in _common sense_, and the effects would have been the same in england as that had produced in america, could the vote of the nation been quietly taken, or had equal opportunities of consulting or acting existed. the only difference between the two works was, that the one was adapted to the local circumstances of england, and the other to those of america. as to myself, i acted in both cases alike; i relinquished to the people of england, as i had done to those of america, all profits from the work. my reward existed in the ambition to do good, and the independent happiness of my own mind. paine here quotes a passage from his letter to mrs. few, already given in the memorial to monroe (xxi.). the entire letter to mrs. few will be printed in the appendix to vol. iv. of this work.--_editor._ see editorial note p. in this volume.--_editor._ but a faction, acting in disguise, was rising in america; they had lost sight of first principles. they were beginning to contemplate government as a profitable monopoly, and the people as hereditary property. it is, therefore, no wonder that the _rights of man_ was attacked by that faction, and its author continually abused. but let them go on; give them rope enough and they will put an end to their own insignificance. there is too much common sense and independence in america to be long the dupe of any faction, foreign or domestic. but, in the midst of the freedom we enjoy, the licentiousness of the papers called federal, (and i know not why they are called so, for they are in their principles anti-federal and despotic,) is a dishonour to the character of the country, and an injury to its reputation and importance abroad. they represent the whole people of america as destitute of public principle and private manners. as to any injury they can do at home to those whom they abuse, or service they can render to those who employ them, it is to be set down to the account of noisy nothingness. it is on themselves the disgrace recoils, for the reflection easily presents itself to every thinking mind, that _those who abuse liberty when they possess it would abuse power could they obtain it_; and, therefore, they may as well take as a general motto, for all such papers, _we and our patrons are not fit to be trusted with power_. there is in america, more than in any other country, a large body of people who attend quietly to their farms, or follow their several occupations; who pay no regard to the clamours of anonymous scribblers, who think for themselves, and judge of government, not by the fury of newspaper writers, but by the prudent frugality of its measures, and the encouragement it gives to the improvement and prosperity of the country; and who, acting on their own judgment, never come forward in an election but on some important occasion. when this body moves, all the little barkings of scribbling and witless curs pass for nothing. to say to this independent description of men, "you must turn out such and such persons at the next election, for they have taken off a great many taxes, and lessened the expenses of government, they have dismissed my son, or my brother, or myself, from a lucrative office, in which there was nothing to do"--is to show the cloven foot of faction, and preach the language of ill-disguised mortification. in every part of the union, this faction is in the agonies of death, and in proportion as its fate approaches, gnashes its teeth and struggles. my arrival has struck it as with an hydrophobia, it is like the sight of water to canine madness. as this letter is intended to announce my arrival to my friends, and to my enemies if i have any, for i ought to have none in america, and as introductory to others that will occasionally follow, i shall close it by detailing the line of conduct i shall pursue. i have no occasion to ask, and do not intend to accept, any place or office in the government.( ) there is none it could give me that would be any ways equal to the profits i could make as an author, for i have an established fame in the literary world, could i reconcile it to my principles to make money by my politics or religion. i must be in every thing what i have ever been, a disinterested volunteer; my proper sphere of action is on the common floor of citizenship, and to honest men i give my hand and my heart freely. the president (jefferson) being an intimate friend of paine, and suspected, despite his reticence, of sympathizing with paine's religions views, was included in the denunciations of paine ("the two toms" they were called), and paine here goes out of his way to soften matters for jefferson.--_editor._. i have some manuscript works to publish, of which i shall give proper notice, and some mechanical affairs to bring forward, that will employ all my leisure time. i shall continue these letters as i see occasion, and as to the low party prints that choose to abuse me, they are welcome; i shall not descend to answer them. i have been too much used to such common stuff to take any notice of it. the government of england honoured me with a thousand martyrdoms, by burning me in effigy in every town in that country, and their hirelings in america may do the same. city of washington. thomas paine. letter ii( ) as the affairs of the country to which i am returned are of more importance to the world, and to me, than of that i have lately left, (for it is through the new world the old must be regenerated, if regenerated at all,) i shall not take up the time of the reader with an account of scenes that have passed in france, many of which are painful to remember and horrid to relate, but come at once to the circumstances in which i find america on my arrival. fourteen years, and something more, have produced a change, at least among a part of the people, and i ask my-self what it is? i meet or hear of thousands of my former connexions, who are men of the same principles and friendships as when i left them. but a non-descript race, and of equivocal generation, assuming the name of _federalist_,--a name that describes no character of principle good or bad, and may equally be applied to either,--has since started up with the rapidity of a mushroom, and like a mushroom is withering on its rootless stalk. are those men _federalized_ to support the liberties of their country or to overturn them? to add to its fair fame or riot on its spoils? the name contains no defined idea. it is like john adams's definition of a republic, in his letter to mr. wythe of virginia.( ) _it is_, says he, _an empire of laws and not of men_. but as laws may be bad as well as good, an empire of laws may be the best of all governments or the worst of all tyrannies. but john adams is a man of paradoxical heresies, and consequently of a bewildered mind. he wrote a book entitled, "_a defence of the american constitutions_," and the principles of it are an attack upon them. but the book is descended to the tomb of forgetfulness, and the best fortune that can attend its author is quietly to follow its fate. john was not born for immortality. but, to return to federalism. national intelligencer, nov. d, .--_editor._ chancellor wythe, - .--_editor._ vol m--« in the history of parties and the names they assume, it often happens that they finish by the direct contrary principles with which they profess to begin, and thus it has happened with federalism. during the time of the old congress, and prior to the establishment of the federal government, the continental belt was too loosely buckled. the several states were united in name but not in fact, and that nominal union had neither centre nor circle. the laws of one state frequently interferred with, and sometimes opposed, those of another. commerce between state and state was without protection, and confidence without a point to rest on. the condition the country was then in, was aptly described by pelatiah webster, when he said, "_thirteen staves and ne'er a hoop will not make a barrel_."( ) if, then, by _federalist_ is to be understood one who was for cementing the union by a general government operating equally over all the states, in all matters that embraced the common interest, and to which the authority of the states severally was not adequate, for no one state can make laws to bind another; if, i say, by a _federalist_ is meant a person of this description, (and this is the origin of the name,) _i ought to stand first on the list of federalists_, for the proposition for establishing a general government over the union, came originally from me in , in a written memorial to chancellor livingston, then secretary for foreign affairs to congress, robert morris, minister of finance, and his associate, gouverneur morris, all of whom are now living; and we had a dinner and conference at robert morris's on the subject. the occasion was as follows: congress had proposed a duty of five per cent, on imported articles, the money to be applied as a fund towards paying the interest of loans to be borrowed in holland. the resolve was sent to the several states to be enacted into a law. rhode island absolutely refused. i was at the trouble of a journey to rhode island to reason with them on the subject.( ) some other of the states enacted it with alterations, each one as it pleased. virginia adopted it, and afterwards repealed it, and the affair came to nothing. "like a stare in a cask well bound with hoops, it [the individual state] stands firmer, is not so easily shaken, bent, or broken, as it would be were it set up by itself alone."--pelatiah webster, . see paul l. ford's pamphlets cm the constitution, etc., p. .--editor see my "life of paine." vol i., p. .--editor, it was then visible, at least to me, that either congress must frame the laws necessary for the union, and send them to the several states to be enregistered without any alteration, which would in itself appear like usurpation on one part and passive obedience on the other, or some method must be devised to accomplish the same end by constitutional principles; and the proposition i made in the memorial was, to _add a continental legislature to congress, to be elected by the several states_. the proposition met the full approbation of the gentlemen to whom it was addressed, and the conversation turned on the manner of bringing it forward. gouverneur morris, in walking with me after dinner, wished me to throw out the idea in the newspaper; i replied, that i did not like to be always the proposer of new things, that it would have too assuming an appearance; and besides, that _i did not think the country was quite wrong enough to be put right_. i remember giving the same reason to dr. rush, at philadelphia, and to general gates, at whose quarters i spent a day on my return from rhode island; and i suppose they will remember it, because the observation seemed to strike them.( ) the letter books of robert morris ( folio volumes, which should be in our national archives) contain many entries relating to paine's activity in the public service. under date aug. , , about the time referred to by paine in this letter, robert morris mentions a conversation with him on public affairs. i am indebted to general meredith read, owner of these morris papers, for permission to examine them.--_editor._. but the embarrassments increasing, as they necessarily must from the want of a better cemented union, the state of virginia proposed holding a commercial convention, and that convention, which was not sufficiently numerous, proposed that another convention, with more extensive and better defined powers, should be held at philadelphia, may , . when the plan of the federal government, formed by this convention, was proposed and submitted to the consideration of the several states, it was strongly objected to in each of them. but the objections were not on anti-federal grounds, but on constitutional points. many were shocked at the idea of placing what is called executive power in the hands of a single individual. to them it had too much the form and appearance of a military government, or a despotic one. others objected that the powers given to a president were too great, and that in the hands of an ambitious and designing man it might grow into tyranny, as it did in england under oliver cromwell, and as it has since done in france. a republic must not only be so in its principles, but in its forms. the executive part of the federal government was made for a man, and those who consented, against their judgment, to place executive power in the hands of a single individual, reposed more on the supposed moderation of the person they had in view, than on the wisdom of the measure itself. two considerations, however, overcame all objections. the one was, the absolute necessity of a federal government. the other, the rational reflection, that as government in america is founded on the representative system any error in the first essay could be reformed by the same quiet and rational process by which the constitution was formed, and that either by the generation then living, or by those who were to succeed. if ever america lose sight of this principle, she will no longer be the _land of liberty_. the father will become the assassin of the rights of the son, and his descendants be a race of slaves. as many thousands who were minors are grown up to manhood since the name of _federalist_ began, it became necessary, for their information, to go back and show the origin of the name, which is now no longer what it originally was; but it was the more necessary to do this, in order to bring forward, in the open face of day, the apostacy of those who first called themselves federalists. to them it served as a cloak for treason, a mask for tyranny. scarcely were they placed in the seat of power and office, than federalism was to be destroyed, and the representative system of government, the pride and glory of america, and the palladium of her liberties, was to be overthrown and abolished. the next generation was not to be free. the son was to bend his neck beneath the father's foot, and live, deprived of his rights, under hereditary control. among the men of this apostate description, is to be ranked the ex-president _john adams_. it has been the political career of this man to begin with hypocrisy, proceed with arrogance, and finish in contempt. may such be the fate of all such characters. i have had doubts of john adams ever since the year . in a conversation with me at that time, concerning the pamphlet _common sense_, he censured it because it attacked the english form of government. john was for independence because he expected to be made great by it; but it was not difficult to perceive, for the surliness of his temper makes him an awkward hypocrite, that his head was as full of kings, queens, and knaves, as a pack of cards. but john has lost deal. when a man has a concealed project in his brain that he wants to bring forward, and fears will not succeed, he begins with it as physicians do by suspected poison, try it first on an animal; if it agree with the stomach of the animal, he makes further experiments, and this was the way john took. his brain was teeming with projects to overturn the liberties of america, and the representative system of government, and he began by hinting it in little companies. the secretary of john jay, an excellent painter and a poor politician, told me, in presence of another american, daniel parker, that in a company where himself was present, john adams talked of making the government hereditary, and that as mr. washington had no children, it should be made hereditary in the family of lund washington.( ) john had not impudence enough to propose himself in the first instance, as the old french normandy baron did, who offered to come over to be king of america, and if congress did not accept his offer, that they would give him thirty thousand pounds for the generosity of it( ); but john, like a mole, was grubbing his way to it under ground. he knew that lund washington was unknown, for nobody had heard of him, and that as the president had no children to succeed him, the vice-president had, and if the treason had succeeded, and the hint with it, the goldsmith might be sent for to take measure of the head of john or of his son for a golden wig. in this case, the good people of boston might have for a king the man they have rejected as a delegate. the representative system is fatal to ambition. see supra footnote on p. .--_editor._ see vol. ii. p. of this work.--_editor._ knowing, as i do, the consummate vanity of john adams, and the shallowness of his judgment, i can easily picture to myself that when he arrived at the federal city he was strutting in the pomp of his imagination before the presidential house, or in the audience hall, and exulting in the language of nebuchadnezzar, "is not this great babylon, that i have built for the honour of my majesty!" but in that unfortunate hour, or soon after, john, like nebuchadnezzar, was driven from among men, and fled with the speed of a post-horse. some of john adams's loyal subjects, i see, have been to present him with an address on his birthday; but the language they use is too tame for the occasion. birthday addresses, like birthday odes, should not creep along like mildrops down a cabbage leaf, but roll in a torrent of poetical metaphor. i will give them a specimen for the next year. here it is-- when an ant, in travelling over the globe, lift up its foot, and put it again on the ground, it shakes the earth to its centre: but when you, the mighty ant of the east, was born, &c. &c. &c, the centre jumped upon the surface. this, gentlemen, is the proper style of addresses from _well-bred_ ants to the monarch of the ant hills; and as i never take pay for preaching, praying, politics, or poetry, i make you a present of it. some people talk of impeaching john adams; but i am for softer measures. i would keep him to make fun of. he will then answer one of the ends for which he was born, and he ought to be thankful that i am arrived to take his part. i voted in earnest to save the life of one unfortunate king, and i now vote in jest to save another. it is my fate to be always plagued with fools. but to return to federalism and apostacy. the plan of the leaders of the faction was to overthrow the liberties of the new world, and place government on the corrupt system of the old. they wanted to hold their power by a more lasting tenure than the choice of their constituents. it is impossible to account for their conduct and the measures they adopted on any other ground. but to accomplish that object, a standing army and a prodigal revenue must be raised; and to obtain these, pretences must be invented to deceive. alarms of dangers that did not exist even in imagination, but in the direct spirit of lying, were spread abroad. apostacy stalked through the land in the garb of patriotism, and the torch of treason blinded for a while the flame of liberty. for what purpose could an army of twenty-five thousand men be wanted? a single reflection might have taught the most credulous that while the war raged between france and england, neither could spare a man to invade america. for what purpose, then, could it be wanted? the case carries its own explanation. it was wanted for the purpose of destroying the representative system, for it could be employed for no other. are these men federalists? if they are, they are federalized to deceive and to destroy. the rage against dr. logan's patriotic and voluntary mission to france was excited by the shame they felt at the detection of the false alarms they had circulated. as to the opposition given by the remnant of the faction to the repeal of the taxes laid on during the former administration, it is easily accounted for. the repeal of those taxes was a sentence of condemnation on those who laid them on, and in the opposition they gave in that repeal, they are to be considered in the light of criminals standing on their defence, and the country has passed judgment upon them. thomas paine. city of washington, lovett's hotel, nov. , . letter iii.( ) the national intelligencer, dec. th, .--_editor._. to elect, and to reject, is the prerogative of a free people. since the establishment of independence, no period has arrived that so decidedly proves the excellence of the representative system of government, and its superiority over every other, as the time we now live in. had america been cursed with john adams's _hereditary monarchy_ or alexander hamilton's _senate for life_ she must have sought, in the doubtful contest of civil war, what she now obtains by the expression of public will. an appeal to elections decides better than an appeal to the sword. the reign of terror that raged in america during the latter end of the washington administration, and the whole of that of adams, is enveloped in mystery to me. that there were men in the government hostile to the representative system, was once their boast, though it is now their overthrow, and therefore the fact is established against them. but that so large a mass of the people should become the dupes of those who were loading them with taxes in order to load them with chains, and deprive them of the right of election, can be ascribed only to that species of wildfire rage, lighted up by falsehood, that not only acts without reflection, but is too impetuous to make any. there is a general and striking difference between the genuine effects of truth itself, and the effects of falsehood believed to be truth. truth is naturally benign; but falsehood believed to be truth is always furious. the former delights in serenity, is mild and persuasive, and seeks not the auxiliary aid of invention. the latter sticks at nothing. it has naturally no morals. every lie is welcome that suits its purpose. it is the innate character of the thing to act in this manner, and the criterion by which it may be known, whether in politics or religion. when any thing is attempted to be supported by lying, it is presumptive evidence that the thing so supported is a lie also. the stock on which a lie can be grafted must be of the same species as the graft. what is become of the mighty clamour of french invasion, and the cry that our country is in danger, and taxes and armies must be raised to defend it? the danger is fled with the faction that created it, and what is worst of all, the money is fled too. it is i only that have committed the hostility of invasion, and all the artillery of popguns are prepared for action. poor fellows, how they foam! they set half their own partisans in laughter; for among ridiculous things nothing is more ridiculous than ridiculous rage. but i hope they will not leave off. i shall lose half my greatness when they cease to lie. so far as respects myself, i have reason to believe, and a right to say, that the leaders of the reign of terror in america and the leaders of the reign of terror in france, during the time of robespierre, were in character the same sort of men; or how is it to be accounted for, that i was persecuted by both at the same time? when i was voted out of the french convention, the reason assigned for it was, that i was a foreigner. when robespierre had me seized in the night, and imprisoned in the luxembourg, (where i remained eleven months,) he assigned no reason for it. but when he proposed bringing me to the tribunal, which was like sending me at once to the scaffold, he then assigned a reason, and the reason was, _for the interests of america as well as of france, "pour les intérêts de l'amérique autant que de la france_" the words are in his own hand-writing, and reported to the convention by the committee appointed to examine his papers, and are printed in their report, with this reflection added to them, "_why thomas paine more than another? because he contributed to the liberty of both worlds_."( ) see my "life of paine," vol. ii., pp. , . also, the historical introduction to xxi., p. , of this volume. robespierre never wrote an idle word. this paine well knew, as mirabeau, who said of robespierre: "that man will go far he believes every word he says."--_editor._ there must have been a coalition in sentiment, if not in fact, between the terrorists of america and the terrorists of france, and robespierre must have known it, or he could not have had the idea of putting america into the bill of accusation against me. yet these men, these terrorists of the new world, who were waiting in the devotion of their hearts for the joyful news of my destruction, are the same banditti who are now bellowing in all the hacknied language of hacknied hypocrisy, about humanity, and piety, and often about something they call infidelity, and they finish with the chorus of _crucify him, crucify him_. i am become so famous among them, they cannot eat or drink without me. i serve them as a standing dish, and they cannot make up a bill of fare if i am not in it. but there is one dish, and that the choicest of all, that they have not presented on the table, and it is time they should. they have not yet _accused providence of infidelity_. yet according to their outrageous piety, she( ) must be as bad as thomas paine; she has protected him in all his dangers, patronized him in all his undertakings, encouraged him in all his ways, and rewarded him at last by bringing him in safety and in health to the promised land. this is more than she did by the jews, the chosen people, that they tell us she brought out of the land of egypt, and out of the house of bondage; for they all died in the wilderness, and moses too. i was one of the nine members that composed the first committee of constitution. six of them have been destroyed. sièyes and myself have survived--he by bending with the times, and i by not bending. the other survivor joined robespierre, he was seized and imprisoned in his turn, and sentenced to transportation. he has since apologized to me for having signed the warrant, by saying he felt himself in danger and was obliged to do it.( ) is this a "survival" of the goddess fortuna?--_editor._ barère. his apology to paine proves that a death- warrant had been issued, for barère did not sign the order for paine's arrest or imprisonment.--_editor._ hérault sechelles, an acquaintance of mr. jefferson, and a good patriot, was my _suppléant_ as member of the committee of constitution, that is, he was to supply my place, if i had not accepted or had resigned, being next in number of votes to me. he was imprisoned in the luxembourg with me, was taken to the tribunal and the guillotine, and i, his principal, was left. there were two foreigners in the convention, anarcharsis clootz and myself. we were both put out of the convention by the same vote, arrested by the same order, and carried to prison together the same night. he was taken to the guillotine, and i was again left. joel barlow was with us when we went to prison. joseph lebon, one of the vilest characters that ever existed, and who made the streets of arras run with blood, was my _suppléant_, as member of the convention for the department of the pas de calais. when i was put out of the convention he came and took my place. when i was liberated from prison and voted again into the convention, he was sent to the same prison and took my place there, and he was sent to the guillotine instead of me. he supplied my place all the way through. one hundred and sixty-eight persons were taken out of the luxembourg in one night, and a hundred and sixty of them guillotined next day, of which i now know i was to have been one; and the manner i escaped that fate is curious, and has all the appearance of accident. the room in which i was lodged was on the ground floor, and one of a long range of rooms under a gallery, and the door of it opened outward and flat against the wall; so that when it was open the inside of the door appeared outward, and the contrary when it was shut. i had three comrades, fellow prisoners with me, joseph vanhuele, of bruges, since president of the municipality of that town, michael rubyns, and charles bastini of louvain. when persons by scores and by hundreds were to be taken out of the prison for the guillotine it was always done in the night, and those who performed that office had a private mark or signal, by which they knew what rooms to go to, and what number to take. we, as i have stated, were four, and the door of our room was marked, unobserved by us, with that number in chalk; but it happened, if happening is a proper word, that the mark was put on when the door was open, and flat against the wall, and thereby came on the inside when we shut it at night, and the destroying angel passed by it.( ) a few days after this, robespierre fell, and mr. monroe arrived and reclaimed me, and invited me to his house. painefs preface to the "age of reason" part il, and his letter to washington (p. .) show that for some time after his release from prison he had attributed his escape from the guillotine to a fever which rendered him unconscious at the time when his accusation was demanded by robespierre; but it will be seen (xxxi.) that he subsequently visited his prison room-mate vanhuele, who had become mayor of bruges, and he may have learned from him the particulars of their marvellous escape. carlyle having been criticised by john g. alger for crediting this story of the chalk mark, an exhaustive discussion of the facts took place in the london athenoum, july , , august , september , , in which it was conclusively proved, i think, that there is no reason to doubt the truth of the incident see also my article on paine's escape, in the open court (chicago), july , . the discussion in the athenoum elicited the fact that a tradition had long existed in the family of sampson perry that he had shared paine's cell and been saved by the curious mistake. such is not the fact. perry, in his book on the french revolution, and in his "argus," told the story of paine's escape by his illness, as paine first told it; and he also relates an anecdote which may find place here: "mr. paine speaks gratefully of the kindness shown him by his fellow-prisoners of the same chamber during his severe malady, and especially of the skilful and voluntary assistance lent him by general o'hara's surgeon. he relates an anecdote of himself which may not be unworthy of repeating. an arrêt of the committee of public welfare had given directions to the administrators of the palace [luxembourg] to enter all the prisons with additional guards and dispossess every prisoner of his knives, forks, and every other sharp instrument; and also to take their money from them. this happened a short time before mr. paine's illness, and as this ceremony was represented to him as an atrocious plunder in the dregs of municipality, he determined to avert its effect so far as it concerned himself. he had an english bank note of some value and gold coin in his pocket, and as he conceived the visitors would rifle them, as well as his trunks (though they did not do so by any one) he took off the lock from his door, and hid the whole of what he had about him in its inside. he recovered his health, he found his money, but missed about three hundred of his associated prisoners, who had been sent in crowds to the murderous tribunal, while he had been insensible of their or his own danger." this was probably the money (£ ) loaned by paine to general o'hara (who figured at the yorktown surrender) in prison.--_editor._ during the whole of my imprisonment, prior to the fall of robespierre, there was no time when i could think my life worth twenty-four hours, and my mind was made up to meet its fate. the americans in paris went in a body to the convention to reclaim me, but without success. there was no party among them with respect to me. my only hope then rested on the government of america, that it would _remember me_. but the icy heart of ingratitude, in whatever man it be placed, has neither feeling nor sense of honour. the letter of mr. jefferson has served to wipe away the reproach, and done justice to the mass of the people of america.( ) printed in the seventh of this series of letters.-- _editor._. when a party was forming, in the latter end of , and beginning of , of which john adams was one, to remove mr. washington from the command of the army on the complaint that _he did nothing_, i wrote the fifth number of the crisis, and published it at lancaster, (congress then being at yorktown, in pennsylvania,) to ward off that meditated blow; for though i well knew that the black times of ' were the natural consequence of his want of military judgment in the choice of positions into which the army was put about new york and new jersey, i could see no possible advantage, and nothing but mischief, that could arise by distracting the army into parties, which would have been the case had the intended motion gone on. general [charles] lee, who with a sarcastic genius joined a great fund of military knowledge, was perfectly right when he said "_we have no business on islands, and in the bottom of bogs, where the enemy, by the aid of its ships, can bring its whole force against apart of ours and shut it up_." this had like to have been the case at new york, and it was the case at fort washington, and would have been the case at fort lee if general [nathaniel] greene had not moved instantly off on the first news of the enemy's approach. i was with greene through the whole of that affair, and know it perfectly. but though i came forward in defence of mr. washington when he was attacked, and made the best that could be made of a series of blunders that had nearly ruined the country, he left me to perish when i was in prison. but as i told him of it in his life-time, i should not now bring it up if the ignorant impertinence of some of the federal papers, who are pushing mr. washington forward as their stalking horse, did not make it necessary. that gentleman did not perform his part in the revolution better, nor with more honour, than i did mine, and the one part was as necessary as the other. he accepted as a present, (though he was already rich,) a hundred thousand acres of land in america, and left me to occupy six foot of earth in france.( ) i wish, for his own reputation, he had acted with more justice. but it was always known of mr. washington, by those who best knew him, that he was of such an icy and death-like constitution, that he neither loved his friends nor hated his enemies. but, be this as it may, i see no reason that a difference between mr. washington and me should be made a theme of discord with other people. there are those who may see merit in both, without making themselves partisans of either, and with this reflection i close the subject. paine was mistaken, as many others were, about the gifts of virginia ( ) to washington. they were shares, of $ each, in the james river company, and shares, of £ each, in the potomac company. washington, accepted on condition that he might appropriate them _to public uses_ which was done in his will.--_editor._ as to the hypocritical abuse thrown out by the federalists on other subjects, i recommend to them the observance of a commandment that existed before either christian or jew existed: thou shalt make a covenant with thy senses: with thine eye that it behold no evil, with thine ear, that it hear no evil, with thy tongue, that it speak no evil, with thy hands, that they commit no evil. if the federalists will follow this commandment, they will leave off lying. thomas paine. federal city, lovett's hotel, nov. , . letter iv.( ) the national intelligencer, dec. th. .--_editor._. as congress is on the point of meeting, the public papers will necessarily be occupied with the debates of the ensuing session, and as, in consequence of my long absence from america, my private affairs require my attendance, (for it is necessary i do this, or i could not preserve, as i do, my independence,) i shall close my address to the public with this letter. i congratulate them on the success of the late elections, and _that_ with the additional confidence, that while honest men are chosen and wise measures pursued, neither the treason of apostacy, masked under the name of federalism, of which i have spoken in my second letter, nor the intrigues of foreign emissaries, acting in concert with that mask, can prevail. as to the licentiousness of the papers calling themselves _federal_, a name that apostacy has taken, it can hurt nobody but the party or the persons who support such papers. there is naturally a wholesome pride in the public mind that revolts at open vulgarity. it feels itself dishonoured even by hearing it, as a chaste woman feels dishonour by hearing obscenity she cannot avoid. it can smile at wit, or be diverted with strokes of satirical humour, but it detests the _blackguard_. the same sense of propriety that governs in private companies, governs in public life. if a man in company runs his wit upon another, it may draw a smile from some persons present, but as soon as he turns a blackguard in his language the company gives him up; and it is the same in public life. the event of the late election shows this to be true; for in proportion as those papers have become more and more vulgar and abusive, the elections have gone more and more against the party they support, or that supports them. their predecessor, _porcupine_ [cobbett] had wit--these scribblers have none. but as soon as his _blackguardism_ (for it is the proper name of it) outran his wit, he was abandoned by every body but the english minister who protected him. the spanish proverb says, "_there never was a cover large enough to hide itself_"; and the proverb applies to the case of those papers and the shattered remnant of the faction that supports them. the falsehoods they fabricate, and the abuse they circulate, is a cover to hide something from being seen, but it is not large enough to hide itself. it is as a tub thrown out to the whale to prevent its attacking and sinking the vessel. they want to draw the attention of the public from thinking about, or inquiring into, the measures of the late administration, and the reason why so much public money was raised and expended; and so far as a lie today, and a new one tomorrow, will answer this purpose, it answers theirs. it is nothing to them whether they be believed or not, for if the negative purpose be answered the main point is answered, to them. he that picks your pocket always tries to make you look another way. "look," says he, "at yon man t'other side the street--what a nose he has got?--lord, yonder is a chimney on fire!--do you see yon man going along in the salamander great coat? that is the very man that stole one of jupiter's satellites, and sold it to a countryman for a gold watch, and it set his breeches on fire!" now the man that has his hand in your pocket, does not care a farthing whether you believe what he says or not. all his aim is to prevent your looking at _him_; and this is the case with the remnant of the federal faction. the leaders of it have imposed upon the country, and they want to turn the attention of it from the subject. in taking up any public matter, i have never made it a consideration, and never will, whether it be popular or unpopular; but whether it be _right_ or _wrong_. the right will always become the popular, if it has courage to show itself, and the shortest way is always a straight line. i despise expedients, they are the gutter-hole of politics, and the sink where reputation dies. in the present case, as in every other, i cannot be accused of using any; and i have no doubt but thousands will hereafter be ready to say, as gouverneur morris said to me, after having abused me pretty handsomely in congress for the opposition i gave the fraudulent demand of silas deane of two thousand pounds sterling: "_well, we were all duped, and i among the rest!_"( ) see vol. i., chapters xxii., xxiii., xxiv., of this work. also my "life of paine," vol. i., ch. ix., x.--_editor._ were the late administration to be called upon to give reasons for the expence it put the country to, it can give none. the danger of an invasion was a bubble that served as a cover to raise taxes and armies to be employed on some other purpose. but if the people of america believed it true, the cheerfulness with which they supported those measures and paid those taxes is an evidence of their patriotism; and if they supposed me their enemy, though in that supposition they did me injustice, it was not injustice in them. he that acts as he believes, though he may act wrong, is not conscious of wrong. but though there was no danger, no thanks are due to the late administration for it. they sought to blow up a flame between the two countries; and so intent were they upon this, that they went out of their way to accomplish it. in a letter which the secretary of state, timothy pickering, wrote to mr. skipwith, the american consul at paris, he broke off from the official subject of his letter, to _thank god_ in very exulting language, _that the russians had cut the french army to pieces_. mr. skipwith, after showing me the letter, very prudently concealed it. it was the injudicious and wicked acrimony of this letter, and some other like conduct of the then secretary of state, that occasioned me, in a letter to a friend in the government, to say, that if there was any official business to be done in france, till a regular minister could be appointed, it could not be trusted to a more proper person than mr. skipwith. "_he is_," said i, "_an honest man, and will do business, and that with good manners to the government he is commissioned to act with. a faculty which that bear, timothy pickering, wanted, and which the bear of that bear, john adams, never possessed_."( ) by reference to the letter itself (p. of this volume) it will be seen that paine here quotes it from memory.-- _editor._ vol iii-- in another letter to the same friend, in , and which was put unsealed under cover to colonel burr, i expressed a satisfaction that mr. jefferson, since he was not president, had accepted the vice presidency; "_for_," said i, "_john adams has such a talent for blundering and offending, it will be necessary to keep an eye over him_." he has now sufficiently proved, that though i have not the spirit of prophecy, i have the gift of _judging right_. and all the world knows, for it cannot help knowing, that to judge _rightly_ and to write _clearly_, and that upon all sorts of subjects, to be able to command thought and as it were to play with it at pleasure, and be always master of one's temper in writing, is the faculty only of a serene mind, and the attribute of a happy and philosophical temperament. the scribblers, who know me not, and who fill their papers with paragraphs about me, besides their want of talents, drink too many slings and drams in a morning to have any chance with me. but, poor fellows, they must do something for the little pittance they get from their employers. this is my apology for them. my anxiety to get back to america was great for many years. it is the country of my heart, and the place of my political and literary birth. it was the american revolution that made me an author, and forced into action the mind that had been dormant, and had no wish for public life, nor has it now. by the accounts i received, she appeared to me to be going wrong, and that some meditated treason against her liberties lurked at the bottom of her government. i heard that my friends were oppressed, and i longed to take my stand among them, and if other times to _try mens souls_ were to arrive, that i might bear my share. but my efforts to return were ineffectual. as soon as mr. monroe had made a good standing with the french government, for the conduct of his predecessor [morris] had made his reception as minister difficult, he wanted to send despatches to his own government by a person to whom he could confide a verbal communication, and he fixed his choice on me. he then applied to the committee of public safety for a passport; but as i had been voted again into the convention, it was only the convention that could give the passport; and as an application to them for that purpose, would have made my going publicly known, i was obliged to sustain the disappointment, and mr. monroe to lose the opportunity.( ) when that gentleman left france to return to america, i was to have gone with him. it was fortunate i did not. the vessel he sailed in was visited by a british frigate, that searched every part of it, and down to the hold, for thomas paine.( ) i then went, the same year, to embark at havre. but several british frigates were cruizing in sight of the port who knew i was there, and i had to return again to paris. seeing myself thus cut off from every opportunity that was in my power to command, i wrote to mr. jefferson, that, if the fate of the election should put him in the chair of the presidency, and he should have occasion to send a frigate to france, he would give me the opportunity of returning by it, which he did. but i declined coming by the _maryland_, the vessel that was offered me, and waited for the frigate that was to bring the new minister, mr. chancellor livingston, to france. but that frigate was ordered round to the mediterranean; and as at that time the war was over, and the british cruisers called in, i could come any way. i then agreed to come with commodore barney in a vessel he had engaged. it was again fortunate i did not, for the vessel sank at sea, and the people were preserved in the boat. the correspondence is in my "life of paine," vol. ii., pp. - .--_editor._ the "dublin packet," captain clay, in whom paine, as he wrote to jefferson, "had no confidence."--_editor._ had half the number of evils befallen me that the number of dangers amount to through which i have been pre-served, there are those who would ascribe it to the wrath of heaven; why then do they not ascribe my preservation to the protecting favour of heaven? even in my worldly concerns i have been blessed. the little property i left in america, and which i cared nothing about, not even to receive the rent of it, has been increasing in the value of its capital more than eight hundred dollars every year, for the fourteen years and more that i have been absent from it. i am now in my circumstances independent; and my economy makes me rich. as to my health, it is perfectly good, and i leave the world to judge of the stature of my mind. i am in every instance a living contradiction to the mortified federalists. in my publications, i follow the rule i began with in _common sense_, that is, to consult nobody, nor to let any body see what i write till it appears publicly. were i to do otherwise, the case would be, that between the timidity of some, who are so afraid of doing wrong that they never do right, the puny judgment of others, and the despicable craft of preferring _expedient to right_, as if the world was a world of babies in leading strings, i should get forward with nothing. my path is a right line, as straight and clear to me as a ray of light. the boldness (if they will have it to be so) with which i speak on any subject, is a compliment to the judgment of the reader. it is like saying to him, _i treat you as a man and not as a child_. with respect to any worldly object, as it is impossible to discover any in me, therefore what i do, and my manner of doing it, ought to be ascribed to a good motive. in a great affair, where the happiness of man is at stake, i love to work for nothing; and so fully am i under the influence of this principle, that i should lose the spirit, the pleasure, and the pride of it, were i conscious that i looked for reward; and with this declaration, i take my leave for the present.( ) the self-assertion of this and other letters about this time was really self-defence, the invective against him, and the calumnies, being such as can hardly be credited by those not familiar with the publications of that time.--_editor._ thomas paine. federal city, lovett's hotel, dec. , . letter v.( ) the national intelligencer, feb., . in the tarions collections of these letters there appears at this point a correspondence between paine and samuel adams of boston, but as it relates to religious matters i reserve it for the fourth volume.--_editor._. it is always the interest of a far greater part of the nation to have a thing right than to have it wrong; and therefore, in a country whose government is founded on the system of election and representation, the fate of every party is decided by its principles. as this system is the only form and principle of government by which liberty can be preserved, and the only one that can embrace all the varieties of a great extent of country, it necessarily follows, that to have the representation real, the election must be real; and that where the election is a fiction, the representation is a fiction also. _like will always produce like_. a great deal has been said and written concerning the conduct of mr. burr, during the late contest, in the federal legislature, whether mr. jefferson or mr. burr should be declared president of the united states. mr. burr has been accused of intriguing to obtain the presidency. whether this charge be substantiated or not makes little or no part of the purport of this letter. there is a point of much higher importance to attend to than any thing that relates to the individual mr. burr: for the great point is not whether mr. burr has intrigued, but whether the legislature has intrigued with _him_. mr. ogden, a relation of one of the senators of new jersey of the same name, and of the party assuming the style of federalists, has written a letter published in the new york papers, signed with his name, the purport of which is to exculpate mr. burr from the charges brought against him. in this letter he says: "when about to return from washington, two or three _members of congress_ of the federal party spoke to me of _their views_, as to the election of a president, desiring me to converse with colonel burr on the subject, and to ascertain _whether he would enter into terms_. on my return to new york i called on colonel burr, and communicated the above to him. he explicitly declined the explanation, and _did neither propose nor agree to any terms_." how nearly is human cunning allied to folly! the animals to whom nature has given the faculty we call _cunning_, know always when to use it, and use it wisely; but when man descends to cunning, he blunders and betrays. mr. ogden's letter is intended to exculpate mr. burr from the charge of intriguing to obtain the presidency; and the letter that he (ogden) writes for this purpose is direct evidence against his party in congress, that they intrigued with burr to obtain him for president, and employed him (ogden) for the purpose. to save _aaron_, he betrays _moses_, and then turns informer against the _golden calf_. it is but of little importance to the world to know if mr. burr _listened_ to an intriguing proposal, but it is of great importance to the constituents to know if their representatives in congress made one. the ear can commit no crime, but the tongue may; and therefore the right policy is to drop mr. burr, as being only the hearer, and direct the whole charge against the federal faction in congress as the active original culprit, or, if the priests will have scripture for it, as the serpent that beguiled eve. in the presidential canvas of , the votes in the electoral college being equally divided between burr and jefferson, the election was thrown into the house of representatives. jefferson was elected on the th ballot, but he never forgave burr, and between these two old friends paine had to write this letter under some embarrassment. the last paragraph of this letter shows paine's desire for a reconciliation between burr and jefferson. aaron burr is one of the traditionally slandered figures of american history. --_editor._ the plot of the intrigue was to make mr. burr president, on the private condition of his agreeing to, and entering into, terms with them, that is, with the proposers. had then the election been made, the country, knowing nothing of this private and illegal transaction, would have supposed, for who could have supposed otherwise, that it had a president according to the forms, principles, and intention of the constitution. no such thing. every form, principle, and intention of the constitution would have been violated; and instead of a president, it would have had a mute, a sort of image, hand-bound and tongue-tied, the dupe and slave of a party, placed on the theatre of the united states, and acting the farce of president. it is of little importance, in a constitutional sense, to know what the terms to be proposed might be, because any terms other than those which the constitution prescribes to a president are criminal. neither do i see how mr. burr, or any other person put in the same condition, could have taken the oath prescribed by the constitution to a president, which is, "_i do solemnly swear (or affirm,) that i will faithfully execute the office of president of the united states, and will to the best of my ability preserve, protect and defend the constitution of the united states_." how, i ask, could such a person have taken such an oath, knowing at the same time that he had entered into the presidency on terms unknown in the constitution, and private, and which would deprive him of the freedom and power of acting as president of the united states, agreeably to his constitutional oath? mr. burr, by not agreeing to terms, has escaped the danger to which they exposed him, and the perjury that would have followed, and also the punishment annexed thereto. had he accepted the presidency on terms unknown in the constitution, and private, and had the transaction afterwards transpired, (which it most probably would, for roguery is a thing difficult to conceal,) it would have produced a sensation in the country too violent to be quieted, and too just to be resisted; and in any case the election must have been void. but what are we to think of those members of congress, who having taken an oath of the same constitutional import as the oath of the president, violate that oath by tampering to obtain a president on private conditions. if this is not sedition against the constitution and the country, it is difficult to define what sedition in a representative can be. say not that this statement of the case is the effect of personal or party resentment. no. it is the effect of _sincere concern_ that such corruption, of which this is but a sample, should, in the space of a few years, have crept into a country that had the fairest opportunity that providence ever gave, within the knowledge of history, of making itself an illustrious example to the world. what the terms were, or were to be, it is probable we never shall know; or what is more probable, that feigned ones, if any, will be given. but from the conduct of the party since that time we may conclude, that no taxes would have been taken off, that the clamour for war would have been kept up, new expences incurred, and taxes and offices increased in consequence; and, among the articles of a private nature, that the leaders in this seditious traffic were to stipulate with the mock president for lucrative appointments for themselves. but if these plotters against the constitution understood their business, and they had been plotting long enough to be masters of it, a single article would have comprehended every thing, which is, _that the president (thus made) should be governed in all cases whatsoever by a private junto appointed by themselves_. they could then, through the medium of a mock president, have negatived all bills which their party in congress could not have opposed with success, and reduced representation to a nullity. the country has been imposed upon, and the real culprits are but few; and as it is necessary for the peace, harmony, and honour of the union, to separate the deceiver from the deceived, the betrayer from the betrayed, that men who once were friends, and that in the worst of times, should be friends again, it is necessary, as a beginning, that this dark business be brought to full investigation. ogden's letter is direct evidence of the fact of tampering to obtain a conditional president. he knows the two or three members of congress that commissioned him, and they know who commissioned them. thomas paine. federal city, lovett's hotel, jan. th, . letter vi.( ) the aurora (philadelphia).--_editor._. religion and war is the cry of the federalists; morality and peace the voice of republicans. the union of morality and peace is congenial; but that of religion and war is a paradox, and the solution of it is hypocrisy. the leaders of the federalists have no judgment; their plans no consistency of parts; and want of consistency is the natural consequence of want of principle. they exhibit to the world the curious spectacle of an _opposition_ without a _cause_, and conduct without system. were they, as doctors, to prescribe medicine as they practise politics, they would poison their patients with destructive compounds. there are not two things more opposed to each other than war and religion; and yet, in the double game those leaders have to play, the one is necessarily the theme of their politics, and the other the text of their sermons. the week-day orator of mars, and the sunday preacher of federal grace, play like gamblers into each other's hands, and this they call religion. though hypocrisy can counterfeit every virtue, and become the associate of every vice, it requires a great dexterity of craft to give it the power of deceiving. a painted sun may glisten, but it cannot warm. for hypocrisy to personate virtue successfully it must know and feel what virtue is, and as it cannot long do this, it cannot long deceive. when an orator foaming for war breathes forth in another sentence a _plaintive piety of words_, he may as well write hypocrisy on his front. the late attempt of the federal leaders in congress (for they acted without the knowledge of their constituents) to plunge the country into war, merits not only reproach but indignation. it was madness, conceived in ignorance and acted in wickedness. the head and the heart went partners in the crime. a neglect of punctuality in the performance of a treaty is made a _cause_ of war by the _barbary powers_, and of remonstrance and explanation by _civilised powers_. the mahometans of barbary negociate by the sword--they seize first, and ex-postulate afterwards; and the federal leaders have been labouring to _barbarize_ the united states by adopting the practice of the barbary states, and this they call honour. let their honour and their hypocrisy go weep together, for both are defeated. their present administration is too moral for hypocrites, and too economical for public spendthrifts. a man the least acquainted with diplomatic affairs must know that a neglect in punctuality is not one of the legal causes of war, unless that neglect be confirmed by a refusal to perform; and even then it depends upon circumstances connected with it. the world would be in continual quarrels and war, and commerce be annihilated, if algerine policy was the law of nations. and were america, instead of becoming an example to the old world of good and moral government and civil manners, or, if they like it better, of gentlemanly conduct towards other nations, to set up the character of ruffian, that of _word and blow, and the blow first_, and thereby give the example of pulling down the little that civilization has gained upon barbarism, her independence, instead of being an honour and a blessing, would become a curse upon the world and upon herself. the conduct of the barbary powers, though unjust in principle, is suited to their prejudices, situation, and circumstances. the crusades of the church to exterminate them fixed in their minds the unobliterated belief that every christian power was their mortal enemy. their religious prejudices, therefore, suggest the policy, which their situation and circumstances protect them in. as a people, they are neither commercial nor agricultural, they neither import nor export, have no property floating on the seas, nor ships and cargoes in the ports of foreign nations. no retaliation, therefore, can be acted upon them, and they sin secure from punishment. but this is not the case with the united states. if she sins as a barbary power, she must answer for it as a civilized one. her commerce is continually passing on the seas exposed to capture, and her ships and cargoes in foreign ports to detention and reprisal. an act of war committed by her in the mississippi would produce a war against the commerce of the atlantic states, and the latter would have to curse the policy that provoked the former. in every point, therefore, in which the character and interest of the united states be considered, it would ill become her to set an example contrary to the policy and custom of civilized powers, and practised only by the barbary powers, that of striking before she expostulates. but can any man, calling himself a legislator, and supposed by his constituents to know something of his duty, be so ignorant as to imagine that seizing on new orleans would finish the affair or even contribute towards it? on the contrary it would have made it worse. the treaty right of deposite at new orleans, and the right of the navigation of the mississippi into the gulph of mexico, are distant things. new orleans is more than an hundred miles in the country from the mouth of the river, and, as a place of deposite, is of no value if the mouth of the river be shut, which either france or spain could do, and which our possession of new orleans could neither prevent or remove. new orleans in our possession, by an act of hostility, would have become a blockaded port, and consequently of no value to the western people as a place of deposite. since, therefore, an interruption had arisen to the commerce of the western states, and until the matter could be brought to a fair explanation, it was of less injury to have the port shut and the river open, than to have the river shut and the port in our possession. that new orleans could be taken required no stretch of policy to plan, nor spirit of enterprize to effect. it was like marching behind a man to knock him down: and the dastardly slyness of such an attack would have stained the fame of the united states. where there is no danger cowards are bold, and captain bobadils are to be found in the senate as well as on the stage. even _gouverneur_, on such a march, dare have shown a leg.( ) gouverneur morris being now leader of the belligerent faction in congress, paine could not resist the temptation to allude to a well-known incident (related in his diary and letters, i., p. ). a mob in paris having surrounded his fine carriage, crying "aristocrat!" morris showed his wooden leg, declaring he had lost his leg in the cause of american liberty. morris was never in any fight, his leg being lost by a commonplace accident while driving in philadelphia. although paine's allusion may appear in bad taste, even with this reference, it was politeness itself compared with the brutal abuse which morris (not content with imprisoning paine in paris) and his adherents were heaping on the author on his return to america; also on monroe, whom jefferson had returned to france to negotiate for the purchase of louisiana.--_editor._, the people of the western country to whom the mississippi serves as an inland sea to their commerce, must be supposed to understand the circumstances of that commerce better than a man who is a stranger to it; and as they have shown no approbation of the war-whoop measures of the federal senators, it becomes presumptive evidence they disapprove them. this is a new mortification for those war-whoop politicians; for the case is, that finding themselves losing ground and withering away in the atlantic states, they laid hold of the affair of new orleans in the vain hope of rooting and reinforcing themselves in the western states; and they did this without perceiving that it was one of those ill judged hypocritical expedients in politics, that whether it succeeded or failed the event would be the same. had their motion [that of ross and morris] succeeded, it would have endangered the commerce of the atlantic states and ruined their reputation there; and on the other hand the attempt to make a tool of the western people was so badly concealed as to extinguish all credit with them. but hypocrisy is a vice of sanguine constitution. it flatters and promises itself every thing; and it has yet to learn, with respect to moral and political reputation, it is less dangerous to offend than to deceive. to the measures of administration, supported by the firmness and integrity of the majority in congress, the united states owe, as far as human means are concerned, the preservation of peace, and of national honour. the confidence which the western people reposed in the government and their representatives is rewarded with success. they are reinstated in their rights with the least possible loss of time; and their harmony with the people of new orleans, so necessary to the prosperity of the united states, which would have been broken, and the seeds of discord sown in its place, had hostilities been preferred to accommodation, remains unimpaired. have the federal ministers of the church meditated on these matters? and laying aside, as they ought to do, their electioneering and vindictive prayers and sermons, returned thanks that peace is preserved, and commerce, without the stain of blood? in the pleasing contemplation of this state of things the mind, by comparison, carries itself back to those days of uproar and extravagance that marked the career of the former administration, and decides, by the unstudied impulse of its own feelings, that something must then have been wrong. why was it, that america, formed for happiness, and remote by situation and circumstances from the troubles and tumults of the european world, became plunged into its vortex and contaminated with its crimes? the answer is easy. those who were then at the head of affairs were apostates from the principles of the revolution. raised to an elevation they had not a right to expect, nor judgment to conduct, they became like feathers in the air, and blown about by every puff of passion or conceit. candour would find some apology for their conduct if want of judgment was their only defect. but error and crime, though often alike in their features, are distant in their characters and in their origin. the one has its source in the weakness of the head, the other in the hardness of the heart, and the coalition of the two, describes the former administration.( ) that of john adams.--_editor._ had no injurious consequences arisen from the conduct of that administration, it might have passed for error or imbecility, and been permitted to die and be forgotten. the grave is kind to innocent offence. but even innocence, when it is a cause of injury, ought to undergo an enquiry. the country, during the time of the former administration, was kept in continual agitation and alarm; and that no investigation might be made into its conduct, it entrenched itself within a magic circle of terror, and called it a sedition law.( ) violent and mysterious in its measures and arrogant in its manners, it affected to disdain information, and insulted the principles that raised it from obscurity. john adams and timothy pickering were men whom nothing but the accidents of the times rendered visible on the political horizon. elevation turned their heads, and public indignation hath cast them to the ground. but an inquiry into the conduct and measures of that administration is nevertheless necessary. the country was put to great expense. loans, taxes, and standing armies became the standing order of the day. the militia, said secretary pickering, are not to be depended upon, and fifty thousand men must be raised. for what? no cause to justify such measures has yet appeared. no discovery of such a cause has yet been made. the pretended sedition law shut up the sources of investigation, and the precipitate flight of john adams closed the scene. but the matter ought not to sleep here. it is not to gratify resentment, or encourage it in others, that i enter upon this subject. it is not in the power of man to accuse me of a persecuting spirit. but some explanation ought to be had. the motives and objects respecting the extraordinary and expensive measures of the former administration ought to be known. the sedition law, that shield of the moment, prevented it then, and justice demands it now. if the public have been imposed upon, it is proper they should know it; for where judgment is to act, or a choice is to be made, knowledge is first necessary. the conciliation of parties, if it does not grow out of explanation, partakes of the character of collusion or indifference. passed july , , to continue until march , . this act, described near the close of this letter, and one passed june th, giving the president despotic powers over aliens in the united states, constituted the famous "alien and sedition laws." hamilton opposed them, and rightly saw in them the suicide of the federal party.--_editor._, there has been guilt somewhere; and it is better to fix it where it belongs, and separate the deceiver from the deceived, than that suspicion, the bane of society, should range at large, and sour the public mind. the military measures that were proposed and carrying on during the former administration, could not have for their object the defence of the country against invasion. this is a case that decides itself; for it is self evident, that while the war raged in europe, neither france nor england could spare a man to send to america. the object, therefore, must be something at home, and that something was the overthrow of the representative system of government, for it could be nothing else. but the plotters got into confusion and became enemies to each other. adams hated and was jealous of hamilton, and hamilton hated and despised both adams and washington.( ) surly timothy stood aloof, as he did at the affair of lexington, and the part that fell to the public was to pay the expense.( ) hamilton's bitter pamphlet against adams appeared in , but his old quarrel with washington ( ) had apparently healed. yet, despite the favors lavished by washington on hamilton, there is no certainty that the latter ever changed his unfavorable opinion of the former, as expressed in a letter to general schuylor, feb. , (lodge's "hamilton's works," vol. viii., p. ).--_editor._ colonel pickering's failure, in , to march his salem troops in time to intercept the british retreat from lexington was attributed to his half-heartedness in the patriotic cause.--_editor._ but ought a people who, but a few years ago, were fighting the battles of the world, for liberty had no home but here, ought such a people to stand quietly by and see that liberty undermined by apostacy and overthrown by intrigue? let the tombs of the slain recall their recollection, and the forethought of what their children are to be revive and fix in their hearts the love of liberty. if the former administration can justify its conduct, give it the opportunity. the manner in which john adams disappeared from the government renders an inquiry the more necessary. he gave some account of himself, lame and confused as it was, to certain _eastern wise men_ who came to pay homage to him on his birthday. but if he thought it necessary to do this, ought he not to have rendered an account to the public. they had a right to expect it of him. in that tête-à-tête account, he says, "some measures were the effect of imperious necessity, much against my inclination." what measures does mr. adams mean, and what is the imperious necessity to which he alludes? "others (says he) were measures of the legislature, which, although approved when passed, were never previously proposed or recommended by me." what measures, it may be asked, were those, for the public have a right to know the conduct of their representatives? "some (says he) left to my discretion were never executed, because no necessity for them, in my judgment, ever occurred." what does this dark apology, mixed with accusation, amount to, but to increase and confirm the suspicion that something was wrong? administration only was possessed of foreign official information, and it was only upon that information communicated by him publicly or privately, or to congress, that congress could act; and it is not in the power of mr. adams to show, from the condition of the belligerent powers, that any imperious necessity called for the warlike and expensive measures of his administration. what the correspondence between administration and rufus king in london, or quincy adams in holland, or berlin, might be, is but little known. the public papers have told us that the former became cup-bearer from the london underwriters to captain truxtun,( ) for which, as minister from a neutral nation, he ought to have been censured. it is, however, a feature that marks the politics of the minister, and hints at the character of the correspondence. thomas truxtun ( - ), for having captured the french frigate "l'insurgente," off hen's island, , was presented at lloyd's coffee-house with plate to the value of guineas. rufus king ( - ), made minister to england in , continued under adams, and for two years under jefferson's administration.--_editor._ i know that it is the opinion of several members of both houses of congress, that an enquiry, with respect to the conduct of the late administration, ought to be gone into. the convulsed state into which the country has been thrown will be best settled by a full and fair exposition of the conduct of that administration, and the causes and object of that conduct. to be deceived, or to remain deceived, can be the interest of no man who seeks the public good; and it is the deceiver only, or one interested in the deception, that can wish to preclude enquiry. the suspicion against the late administration is, that it was plotting to overturn the representative system of government, and that it spread alarms of invasions that had no foundation, as a pretence for raising and establishing a military force as the means of accomplishing that object. the law, called the sedition law, enacted, that if any person should write or publish, or cause to be written or published, any libel [without defining what a libel is] against the government of the united states, or either house of congress, or against the president, he should be punished by a fine not exceeding two thousand dollars, and by imprisonment not exceeding two years. but it is a much greater crime for a president to plot against a constitution and the liberties of the people, than for an individual to plot against a president; and consequently, john adams is accountable to the public for his conduct, as the individuals under his administration were to the sedition law. the object, however, of an enquiry, in this case, is not to punish, but to satisfy; and to shew, by example, to future administrations, that an abuse of power and trust, however disguised by appearances, or rendered plausible by pretence, is one time or other to be accounted for. thomas paine. bordentown, on the delaware, new jersey, march , . vol. iii-- letter vii. editor's preface. this letter was printed in _the true american_, trenton, new jersey, soon after paine's return to his old home at bordenton. it is here printed from the original manuscript, for which i am indebted to mr. w. f. havemeyer of new york. although the editor has concluded to present paine's "maritime compact" in the form he finally gave it, the articles were printed in french in , and by s. h. smith, washington, at the close of the same year. there is an interesting history connected with it. john hall, in his diary ("trenton, april, ") relates that paine told him of dr. franklin, whom he (paine) had just visited in philadelphia, and the treaty he, the doctor, made with the late king of prussia by adding an article that, should war ever break out, commerce should be free. the doctor said he showed it to vergennes, who said it met his idea, and was such as he would make even with england. in his address to the people of france, (see p. ), paine closes with a suggestion on the subject, and a year later (september , ), when events were in a critical condition, he sent nine articles of his proposed _pacte maritime_ to talleyrand, newly appointed minister of foreign affairs. the letters that passed are here taken from the originals (state archives, paris, Ã�tats unis, vol. ). "rue theatre française, no. , vendemaire, year. "citizen minister: i promised you some observations on the state of things between france and america. i divide the case into two parts. first, with respect to some method that shall effectually put an end to all interruptions of the american commerce. secondly, with respect to the settlement for the captures that have been made on that commerce. "as to the first case (the interruption of the american commerce by france) it has foundation in the british treaty, and it is the continuance of that treaty that renders the remedy difficult. besides, the american administration has blundered so much in the business of treaty-making, that it is probable it will blunder again in making another with france. there is, however, one method left, and there is but one that i can see, that will be effectual. it is a _non-importation convention; that america agrees not to import from any nation in europe who shall interrupt her commerce on the seas, any goods, wares, or merchandize whatever, and that all her ports shall be shut against the nation that gives the offence_. this will draw america out of her difficulties with respect to her treaty with england. "but it will be far better if this non-importation convention were to be a general convention of nations acting as a whole. it would give a better protection to neutral commerce than the armed neutrality could do. i would rather be a neutral nation under the protection of such a convention, which costs nothing to make it, than be under the protection of a navy equal to that of great britain. france should be the patron of such a convention and sign it. it would be giving both her consent and her protection to the rights of neutral nations. if england refuse to sign it she will nevertheless be obliged to respect it, or lose all her commerce. "i enclose you a plan i drew up about four months ago, when there was expectation that mr. madison would come to france. it has lain by me ever since. "the second part, that of settlement for the captures, i will make the subject of a future correspondence. salut et respect." talleyrand's reply ("foreign relations, vendemaire an. ," oct. , ): "i have the honor to return you, citizen, with very sincere thanks, your letter to general washington which you have had the goodness to show me. "i have received the letter which you have taken the trouble to write me, the th of this month. i need not assure you of the appreciation with which i shall receive the further indications you promise on the means of terminating in a durable manner the differences which must excite your interest as a patriot and as a republican. animated by such a principle your ideas cannot fail to throw valuable light on the discussion you open, and which should have for its object to reunite the two republics in whose alienation the enemies of liberty triumph." paine's plan made a good impression in france--he writes to jefferson, october , , that the consul le brun, at an entertainment given to the american envoys, gave for his toast: "Ã� l'union de ' amérique avec les puissances du nord pour faire respecter la liberté des mers." the malignant mind, like the jaundiced eye, sees everything through a false medium of its own creating. the light of heaven appears stained with yellow to the distempered sight of the one, and the fairest actions have the form of crimes in the venomed imagination of the other. for seven months, both before and after my return to america in october last, the apostate papers styling themselves "federal" were filled with paragraphs and essays respecting a letter from mr. jefferson to me at paris; and though none of them knew the contents of the letter, nor the occasion of writing it, malignity taught them to suppose it, and the lying tongue of injustice lent them its aid. that the public may no longer be imposed upon by federal apostacy, i will now publish the letter, and the occasion of its being written. the treaty negociated in england by john jay, and ratified by the washington administration, had so disgracefully surrendered the right and freedom of the american flag, that all the commerce of the united states on the ocean became exposed to capture, and suffered in consequence of it. the duration of the treaty was limited to two years after the war; and consequently america could not, during that period, relieve herself from the chains which the treaty had fixed upon her. this being the case, the only relief that could come must arise out of something originating in europe, that would, in its consequences, extend to america. it had long been my opinion that commerce contained within itself the means of its own protection; but as the time for bringing forward any new system is not always happening, it is necessary to watch its approach, and lay hold of it before it passes away. as soon as the late emperor paul of russia abandoned his coalition with england and become a neutral power, this crisis of time, and also of circumstances, was then arriving; and i employed it in arranging a plan for the protection of the commerce of neutral nations during war, that might, in its operation and consequences, relieve the commerce of america. the plan, with the pieces accompanying it, consisted of about forty pages. the citizen bonneville, with whom i lived in paris, translated it into french; mr. skipwith, the american consul, joel barlow, and myself, had the translation printed and distributed as a present to the foreign ministers of all the neutral nations then resident in paris. this was in the summer of . it was entitled maritime compact (in french _pacte maritime_), the plan, exclusive of the pieces that accompanied it, consisted of the following preamble and articles. maritime compact. being an unarmed association of nations for the protection of the rights and commerce of nations that shall be neutral in time of war. whereas, the vexations and injuries to which the rights and commerce of neutral nations have been, and continue to be, exposed during the time of maritime war, render it necessary to establish a law of nations for the purpose of putting an end to such vexations and injuries, and to guarantee to the neutral nations the exercise of their just rights, we, therefore, the undersigned powers, form ourselves into an association, and establish the following as a law of nations on the seas. article the first. definition of the rights of neutral nations. the rights of nations, such as are exercised by them in their intercourse with each other in time of peace, are, and of right ought to be, the rights of neutral nations at all times; because, first, those rights not having been abandoned by them, remain with them. secondly, because those rights cannot become forfeited or void, in consequence of war breaking out between two or more other nations. a war of nation against nation being exclusively the act of the nations that make the war, and not the act of the neutral nations, cannot, whether considered in itself or in its consequences, destroy or diminish the rights of the nations remaining in peace. article the second. the ships and vessels of nations that rest neuter and at peace with the world during a war with other nations, have a right to navigate freely on the seas as they navigated before that war broke out, and to proceed to and enter the port or ports of any of the belligerent powers, _with the consent of that power_, without being seized, searched, visited, or any ways interrupted, by the nation or nations with which that nation is at war. article the third. for the conservation of the aforesaid rights, we, the undersigned powers, engaging to each other our sacred faith and honour, declare, that if any belligerent power shall seize, search, visit, or any ways interrupt any ship or vessel belonging to the citizens or subjects of any of the powers composing this association, then each and all of the said undersigned powers will cease to import, and will not permit to be imported into the ports or dominions of any of the said undersigned powers, in any ship or vessel whatever, any goods, wares, or merchandize, produced or manufactured in, or exported from, the dominions of the power so offending against the association hereby established and proclaimed. article the fourth. that all the ports appertaining to any and all of the powers composing this association shall be shut against the flag of the offending nation. article the fifth. that no remittance or payment in money, merchandize, or bills of exchange, shall be made by any of the citizens, or subjects, of any of the powers composing this association, to the citizens or subjects of the offending nation, for the term of one year, or until reparation be made. the reparation to be ---- times the amount of the damages sustained. article the sixth. if any ship or vessel appertaining to any of the citizens or subjects of any of the powers composing this association shall be seized, searched, visited, or interrupted, by any belligerent nation, or be forcibly prevented entering the port of her destination, or be seized, searched, visited, or interrupted, in coming out of such port, or be forcibly prevented from proceeding to any new destination, or be insulted or visited by any agent from on board any vessel of any belligerent power, the government or executive power of the nation to which the ship or vessel so seized, searched, visited, or interrupted belongs, shall, on evidence of the fact, make public proclamation of the same, and send a copy thereof to the government, or executive, of each of the powers composing this association, who shall publish the same in all the extent of his dominions, together with a declaration, that at the expiration of ---- days after publication, the penal articles of this association shall be put in execution against the offending nation. article the seventh. if reparation be not made within the space of one year, the said proclamation shall be renewed for one year more, and so on. article the eighth. the association chooses for itself a flag to be carried at the mast-head conjointly with the national flag of each nation composing this association. the flag of the association shall be composed of the same colors as compose the rainbow, and arranged in the same order as they appear in that phenomenon. article the ninth. and whereas, it may happen that one or more of the nations composing this association may be, at the time of forming it, engaged in war or become so in future, in that case, the ships and vessels of such nation shall carry the flag of the association bound round the mast, to denote that the nation to which she belongs is a member of the association and a respecter of its laws. n. b. this distinction in the manner of carrying the flag is mearly for the purpose, that neutral vessels having the flag at the mast-head, may be known at first sight. article the tenth. and whereas, it is contrary to the moral principles of neutrality and peace, that any neutral nation should furnish to the belligerent powers, or any of them, the means of carrying on war against each other, we, therefore, the powers composing this association, declare, that we will each one for itself, prohibit in our dominions the exportation or transportation of military stores, comprehending gunpowder, cannon, and cannon-balls, fire arms of all kinds, and all kinds of iron and steel weapons used in war. excluding therefrom all kinds of utensils and instruments used in civil or domestic life, and every other article that cannot, in its immediate state, be employed in war. having thus declared the moral motives of the foregoing article, we declare also the civil and political intention thereof, to wit, that as belligerent nations have no right to visit or search any ship or vessel belonging to a nation at peace, and under the protection of the laws and government thereof, and as all such visit or search is an insult to the nation to which such ship or vessel belongs and to the government of the same, we, therefore, the powers composing this association, will take the right of prohibition on ourselves to whom it properly belongs, and by whom only it can be legally exercised, and not permit foreign nations, in a state of war, to usurp the right of legislating by proclamation for any of the citizens or subjects of the powers composing this association. it is, therefore, in order to take away all pretence of search or visit, which by being offensive might become a new cause of war, that we will provide laws and publish them by proclamation, each in his own dominion, to prohibit the supplying, or carrying to, the belligerent powers, or either of them, the military stores or articles before mentioned, annexing thereto a penalty to be levied or inflicted upon any persons within our several dominions transgressing the same. and we invite all persons, as well of the belligerent nations as of our own, or of any other, to give information of any knowledge they may have of any transgressions against the said law, that the offenders may be prosecuted. by this conduct we restore the word contraband (_contra_ and _ban_) to its true and original signification, which means against law, edict, or proclamation; and none but the government of a nation can have, or can exercise, the right of making laws, edicts, or proclamations, for the conduct of its citizens or subjects. now we, the undersigned powers, declare the aforesaid articles to be a law of nations at all times, or until a congress of nations shall meet to form some law more effectual. and we do recommend that immediately on the breaking out of war between any two or more nations, that deputies be appointed by all neutral nations, whether members of this association or not, to meet in congress in some central place to take cognizance of any violations of the rights of neutral nations. signed, &c. for the purpose of giving operation to the aforesaid plan of an _unarmed association_, the following paragraph was subjoined: it may be judged proper for the order of business, that the association of nations have a president for a term of years, and the presidency to pass by rotation, to each of the parties composing the association. in that case, and for the sake of regularity, the first president to be the executive power of the most northerly nation composing the association, and his deputy or minister at the congress to be president of the congress,--and the next most northerly to be vice-president, who shall succeed to the presidency, and so on. the line determining the geographical situation of each, to be the latitude of the capital of each nation. if this method be adopted it will be proper that the first president be nominally constituted in order to give rotation to the rest. in that case the following article might be added to the foregoing, viz't. the constitution of the association nominates the emperor paul to be _first president_ of the association of nations for the protection of neutral commerce, and securing the freedom of the seas. the foregoing plan, as i have before mentioned, was presented to the ministers of all the neutral nations then in paris, in the summer of . six copies were given to the russian general springporten; and a russian gentleman who was going to petersburgh took two expressly for the purpose of putting them into the hands of paul i sent the original manuscript, in my own handwriting, to mr. jefferson, and also wrote him four letters, dated the st, th, th, th of october, , giving him an account of what was then going on in europe respecting neutral commerce. the case was, that in order to compel the english government to acknowledge the rights of neutral commerce, and that free ships make free goods, the _emperor paul_, in the month of september following the publication of the plan, shut all the ports of russia against england. sweden and denmark did the same by their ports, and denmark shut up hamburgh. prussia shut up the elbe and the weser. the ports of spain, portugal, and naples were shut up, and, in general, all the ports of italy, except venice, which the emperor of germany held; and had it not been for the untimely death of paul, a _law of nations_, founded on the authority of nations, for establishing the rights of neutral commerce and the freedom of the seas, would have been proclaimed, and the government of england must have consented to that law, or the nation must have lost its commerce; and the consequence to america would have been, that such a law would, in a great measure if not entirely, have released her from the injuries of jay's treaty. of all these matters i informed mr. jefferson. this was before he was president, and the letter he wrote me after he was president was in answer to those i had written to him and the manuscript copy of the plan i had sent here. here follows the letter: washington, march , . dear sir: your letters of oct. st, th, th, th, came duly to hand, and the papers which they covered were, according to your permission, published in the newspapers, and in a pamphlet, and under your own name. these papers contain precisely our principles, and i hope they will be generally recognized here. _determined as we are to avoid, if possible, wasting the energies of our people in war and destruction, we shall avoid implicating ourselves with the powers of europe, even in support of principles which we mean to pursue. they have so many other interests different from ours that we must avoid being entangled in them. we believe we can enforce those principles as to ourselves by peaceable means, now that we are likely to have our public councils detached from foreign views. the return of our citizens from the phrenzy into which they had been wrought, partly by ill conduct in france, partly by artifices practiced upon them, is almost extinct, and will, i believe, become quite so_, but these details, too minute and long for a letter, will be better developed by mr. dawson, the bearer of this, a member of the late congress, to whom i refer you for them. he goes in the maryland sloop of war, which will wait a few days at havre to receive his letters to be written on his arrival at paris. you expressed a wish to get a passage to this country in a public vessel. mr. dawson is charged with orders to the captain of the maryland to receive and accommodate you back if you can be ready to depart at such a short warning. rob't r. livingston is appointed minister plenipotentiary to the republic of france, but will not leave this, till we receive the ratification of the convention by mr. dawson. i am in hopes you will find us returned generally to sentiments worthy of former times. in these it will be your glory to have steadily laboured and with as much effect as any man living. that you may long live to continue your useful labours and to reap the reward in the thankfulness of nations is my sincere prayer. accept assurances of my high esteem and affectionate attachment. thomas jefferson. this, citizens of the united states, is the letter about which the leaders and tools of the federal faction, without knowing its contents or the occasion of writing it, have wasted so many malignant falsehoods. it is a letter which, on account of its wise economy and peaceable principles, and its forbearance to reproach, will be read by every good man and every good citizen with pleasure; and the faction, mortified at its appearance, will have to regret they forced it into publication. the least atonement they can now offer is to make the letter as public as they have made their own infamy, and learn to lie no more. the same injustice they shewed to mr. jefferson they shewed to me. i had employed myself in europe, and at my own expense, in forming and promoting a plan that would, in its operation, have benefited the commerce of america; and the faction here invented and circulated an account in the papers they employ, that i had given a plan to the french for burning all the towns on the coast from savannah to baltimore. were i to prosecute them for this (and i do not promise that i will not, for the liberty of the press is not the liberty of lying,) there is not a federal judge, not even one of midnight appointment, but must, from the nature of the case, be obliged to condemn them. the faction, however, cannot complain they have been restrained in any thing. they have had their full swing of lying uncontradicted; they have availed themselves, unopposed, of all the arts hypocrisy could devise; and the event has been, what in all such cases it ever will and ought to be, _the ruin of themselves_. the characters of the late and of the present administrations are now sufficiently marked, and the adherents of each keep up the distinction. the former administration rendered itself notorious by outrage, coxcombical parade, false alarms, a continued increase of taxes, and an unceasing clamor for war; and as every vice has a virtue opposed to it, the present administration moves on the direct contrary line. the question, therefore, at elections is not properly a question upon persons, but upon principles. those who are for peace, moderate taxes, and mild government, will vote for the administration that conducts itself by those principles, in whatever hands that administration may be. there are in the united states, and particularly in the middle states, several religious sects, whose leading moral principle is peace. it is, therefore, impossible that such persons, consistently with the dictates of that principle, can vote for an administration that is clamorous for war. when moral principles, rather than persons, are candidates for power, to vote is to perform a moral duty, and not to vote is to neglect a duty. that persons who are hunting after places, offices, and contracts, should be advocates for war, taxes, and extravagance, is not to be wondered at; but that so large a portion of the people who had nothing to depend upon but their industry, and no other public prospect but that of paying taxes, and bearing the burden, should be advocates for the same measures, is a thoughtlessness not easily accounted for. but reason is recovering her empire, and the fog of delusion is clearing away. thomas paine. bordentown, on the delaware, new jersey, april , .( ) endorsed: "sent by gen. bloomfield per mr. wilson for mr. duane." and, in a later hand: "paine letter . found among the bartram papers sent by col. carr."--editor. xxxiv. to the french inhabitants of louisiana.( ) in a letter to albert gallatin, secretary of the treasury (oct , ), john randolph of roanoke proposed "the printing of -- thousand copies of tom paine's answer to their remonstrance, and transmitting them by as many thousand troops, who can speak a language perfectly intelligible to the people of louisiana, whatever that of their government may be," the purchase of louisiana was announced to the senate by president jefferson, october , .--editor. a publication having the appearance of a memorial and remonstrance, to be presented to congress at the ensuing session, has appeared in several papers. it is therefore open to examination, and i offer you my remarks upon it. the title and introductory paragraph are as follows: "_to the congress of the united states in the senate and house of representatives convened_: we the subscribers, planters, merchants, and other inhabitants of louisiana, respectfully approach the legislature of the united states with a memorial of _our rights_, a remonstrance against certain laws which contravene them, and a petition for that redress to which the laws of nature, sanctioned by positive stipulations, have entitled us." it often happens that when one party, or one that thinks itself a party, talks much about its rights, it puts those of the other party upon examining into their own, and such is the effect produced by your memorial. a single reading of that memorial will show it is the work of some person who is not of your people. his acquaintance with the cause, commencement, progress, and termination of the american revolution, decides this point; and his making our merits in that revolution the ground of your claims, as if our merits could become yours, show she does not understand your situation. we obtained our rights by calmly understanding principles, and by the successful event of a long, obstinate, and expensive war. but it is not incumbent on us to fight the battles of the world for the world's profit. you are already participating, without any merit or expense in obtaining it, the blessings of freedom acquired by ourselves; and in proportion as you become initiated into the principles and practice of the representative system of government, of which you have yet had no experience, you will participate more, and finally be partakers of the whole. you see what mischief ensued in france by the possession of power before they understood principles. they earned liberty in words, but not in fact. the writer of this was in france through the whole of the revolution, and knows the truth of what he speaks; for after endeavouring to give it principle, he had nearly fallen a victim to its rage. there is a great want of judgment in the person who drew up your memorial. he has mistaken your case, and forgotten his own; and by trying to court your applause has injured your pretensions. he has written like a lawyer, straining every point that would please his client, without studying his advantage. i find no fault with the composition of the memorial, for it is well written; nor with the principles of liberty it contains, considered in the abstract. the error lies in the misapplication of them, and in assuming a ground they have not a right to stand upon. instead of their serving you as a ground of reclamation against us, they change into a satire on yourselves. why did you not speak thus when you ought to have spoken it? we fought for liberty when you stood quiet in slavery. the author of the memorial injudiciously confounding two distinct cases together, has spoken as if he was the memorialist of a body of americans, who, after sharing equally with us in all the dangers and hardships of the revolutionary war, had retired to a distance and made a settlement for themselves. if, in such a situation, congress had established a temporary government over them, in which they were not personally consulted, they would have had a right to speak as the memorial speaks. but your situation is different from what the situation of such persons would be, and therefore their ground of reclamation cannot of right become yours. you are arriving at freedom by the easiest means that any people ever enjoyed it; without contest, without expense, and even without any contrivance of your own. and you already so far mistake principles, that under the name of _rights_ you ask for _powers; power to import and enslave africans_; and _to govern_ a territory that _we have purchased_. to give colour to your memorial, you refer to the treaty of cession, (in which _you were not_ one of the contracting parties,) concluded at paris between the governments of the united states and france. "the third article" you say "of the treaty lately concluded at paris declares, that the inhabitants of the ceded territory shall be incorporated in the union of the united states, and admitted _as soon as possible, according to the principles_ of the federal constitution, to the enjoyment of all the rights, advantages, and immunities of citizens of the united states; and _in the mean time_, they shall be protected in the enjoyment of their liberty, property, and the exercise of the religion they profess." as from your former condition, you cannot be much acquainted with diplomatic policy, and i am convinced that even the gentleman who drew up the memorial is not, i will explain to you the grounds of this article. it may prevent your running into further errors. the territory of louisiana had been so often ceded to different european powers, that it became a necessary article on the part of france, and for the security of spain, the ally of france, and which accorded perfectly with our own principles and intentions, that it should be _ceded no more_; and this article, stipulating for the incorporation of louisiana into the union of the united states, stands as a bar against all future cession, and at the same time, as well as "_in the mean time_" secures to you a civil and political permanency, personal security and liberty which you never enjoyed before. france and spain might suspect, (and the suspicion would not have been ill-founded had the cession been treated for in the administration of john adams, or when washington was president, and alexander hamilton president over him,) that we _bought_ louisiana for the british government, or with a view of selling it to her; and though such suspicion had no just ground to stand upon with respect to our present president, thomas jefferson, who is not only not a man of intrigue but who possesses that honest pride of principle that cannot be intrigued with, and which keeps intriguers at a distance, the article was nevertheless necessary as a precaution against future contingencies. but you, from not knowing the political ground of the article, apply to yourselves _personally_ and _exclusively_, what had reference to the _territory_, to prevent its falling into the hands of any foreign power that might endanger the [establishment of] _spanish_ dominion in america, or those of the _french_ in the west india islands. you claim, (you say), to be incorporated into the union of the united states, and your remonstrances on this subject are unjust and without cause. you are already _incorporated_ into it as fully and effectually as the americans themselves are, who are settled in louisiana. you enjoy the same rights, privileges, advantages, and immunities, which they enjoy; and when louisiana, or some part of it, shall be erected into a constitutional state, you also will be citizens equal with them. you speak in your memorial, as if you were the only people who were to live in louisiana, and as if the territory was purchased that you exclusively might govern it. in both these cases you are greatly mistaken. the emigrations from the united states into the purchased territory, and the population arising therefrom, will, in a few years, exceed you in numbers. it is but twenty-six years since kentucky began to be settled, and it already contains more than _double_ your population. in a candid view of the case, you ask for what would be injurious to yourselves to receive, and unjust in us to grant. _injurious_, because the settlement of louisiana will go on much faster under the government and guardianship of congress, then if the government of it were committed to _your_ hands; and consequently, the landed property you possessed as individuals when the treaty was concluded, or have purchased since, will increase so much faster in value.--_unjust to ourselves_, because as the reimbursements of the purchase money must come out of the sale of the lands to new settlers, the government of it cannot suddenly go out of the hands of congress. they are guardians of that property for _all the people of the united states_. and besides this, as the new settlers will be chiefly from the united states, it would be unjust and ill policy to put them and their property under the jurisdiction of a people whose freedom they had contributed to purchase. you ought also to recollect, that the french revolution has not exhibited to the world that grand display of principles and rights, that would induce settlers from other countries to put themselves under a french jurisdiction in louisiana. beware of intriguers who may push you on from private motives of their own. you complain of two cases, one of which you have _no right_, no concern with; and the other is founded in direct injustice. you complain that congress has passed a law to divide the country into two territories. it is not improper to inform you, that after the revolutionary war ended, congress divided the territory acquired by that war into ten territories; each of which was to be erected into a constitutional state, when it arrived at a certain population mentioned in the act; and, in the mean time, an officer appointed by the president, as the governor of louisiana now is, presided, as governor of the western territory, over all such parts as have not arrived at the maturity of _statehood_. louisiana will require to be divided into twelve states or more; but this is a matter that belongs to _the purchaser_ of the territory of louisiana, and with which the inhabitants of the town of new-orleans have no right to interfere; and beside this, it is probable that the inhabitants of the other territory would choose to be independent of new-orleans. they might apprehend, that on some speculating pretence, their produce might be put in requisition, and a maximum price put on it--a thing not uncommon in a french government. as a general rule, without refining upon sentiment, one may put confidence in the justice of those who have no inducement to do us injustice; and this is the case congress stands in with respect to both territories, and to all other divisions that may be laid out, and to all inhabitants and settlers, of whatever nation they may be. there can be no such thing as what the memorial speaks of, that is, _of a governor appointed by the president who may have no interest in the welfare of louisiana_. he must, from the nature of the case, have more interest in it than any other person can have. he is entrusted with the care of an extensive tract of country, now the property of the united states by purchase. the value of those lands will depend on the increasing prosperity of louisiana, its agriculture, commerce, and population. you have only a local and partial interest in the town of new-orleans, or its vicinity; and if, in consequence of exploring the country, new seats of commerce should offer, his general interest would lead him to open them, and your partial interest to shut them up. there is probably some justice in your remark, as it applies to the governments under which you _formerly_ lived. such governments always look with jealousy, and an apprehension of revolt, on colonies increasing in prosperity and population, and they send governors to _keep them down_. but when you argue from the conduct of governments _distant and despotic_, to that of _domestic_ and _free_ government, it shows you do not understand the principles and interest of a republic, and to put you right is friendship. we have had experience, and you have not. the other case to which i alluded, as being founded in direct injustice, is that in which you petition for _power_, under the name of _rights_, to import and enslave africans! _dare you put up a petition to heaven for such a power, without fearing to be struck from the earth by its justice?_ _why, then, do you ask it of man against man?_ _do you want to renew in louisiana the horrors of domingo?_ common sense. sept , . end of volume iii. the writings of thomas paine by thomas paine collected and edited by moncure daniel conway volume iv. the age of reason ( ) contents editor's introduction part one chapter i - the author's profession of faith chapter ii - of missions and revelations chapter iii - concerning the character of jesus christ, and his history chapter iv - of the bases of christianity chapter v - examination in detail of the preceding bases chapter vi - of the true theology chapter vii - examination of the old testament chapter viii - of the new testament chapter ix - in what the true revelation consists chapter x - concerning god, and the lights cast on his existence and attributes by the bible chapter xi - of the theology of the christians; and the true theology chapter xii - the effects of christianism on education; proposed reforms chapter xiii - comparison of christianism with the religious ideas inspired by nature chapter xiv - system of the universe chapter xv - advantages of the existence of many worlds in each solar system chapter xvi - applications of the preceding to the system of the christians chapter xvii - of the means employed in all time, and almost universally, to deceive the peoples recapitulation part two preface chapter i - the old testament chapter ii - the new testament chapter iii - conclusion editor's introduction with some results of recent researches. in the opening year, , when revolutionary france had beheaded its king, the wrath turned next upon the king of kings, by whose grace every tyrant claimed to reign. but eventualities had brought among them a great english and american heart--thomas paine. he had pleaded for louis caper--"kill the king but spare the man." now he pleaded,--"disbelieve in the king of kings, but do not confuse with that idol the father of mankind!" in paine's preface to the second part of "the age of reason" he describes himself as writing the first part near the close of the year . "i had not finished it more than six hours, in the state it has since appeared, before a guard came about three in the morning, with an order signed by the two committees of public safety and surety general, for putting me in arrestation." this was on the morning of december . but it is necessary to weigh the words just quoted--"in the state it has since appeared." for on august , , francois lanthenas, in an appeal for paine's liberation, wrote as follows: "i deliver to merlin de thionville a copy of the last work of t. payne [the age of reason], formerly our colleague, and in custody since the decree excluding foreigners from the national representation. this book was written by the author in the beginning of the year ' (old style). i undertook its translation before the revolution against priests, and it was published in french about the same time. couthon, to whom i sent it, seemed offended with me for having translated this work." under the frown of couthon, one of the most atrocious colleagues of robespierre, this early publication seems to have been so effectually suppressed that no copy bearing that date, , can be found in france or elsewhere. in paine's letter to samuel adams, printed in the present volume, he says that he had it translated into french, to stay the progress of atheism, and that he endangered his life "by opposing atheism." the time indicated by lanthenas as that in which he submitted the work to couthon would appear to be the latter part of march, , the fury against the priesthood having reached its climax in the decrees against them of march and . if the moral deformity of couthon, even greater than that of his body, be remembered, and the readiness with which death was inflicted for the most theoretical opinion not approved by the "mountain," it will appear probable that the offence given couthon by paine's book involved danger to him and his translator. on may , when the girondins were accused, the name of lanthenas was included, and he barely escaped; and on the same day danton persuaded paine not to appear in the convention, as his life might be in danger. whether this was because of the "age of reason," with its fling at the "goddess nature" or not, the statements of author and translator are harmonized by the fact that paine prepared the manuscript, with considerable additions and changes, for publication in english, as he has stated in the preface to part ii. a comparison of the french and english versions, sentence by sentence, proved to me that the translation sent by lanthenas to merlin de thionville in is the same as that he sent to couthon in . this discovery was the means of recovering several interesting sentences of the original work. i have given as footnotes translations of such clauses and phrases of the french work as appeared to be important. those familiar with the translations of lanthenas need not be reminded that he was too much of a literalist to depart from the manuscript before him, and indeed he did not even venture to alter it in an instance (presently considered) where it was obviously needed. nor would lanthenas have omitted any of the paragraphs lacking in his translation. this original work was divided into seventeen chapters, and these i have restored, translating their headings into english. the "age of reason" is thus for the first time given to the world with nearly its original completeness. it should be remembered that paine could not have read the proof of his "age of reason" (part i.) which went through the press while he was in prison. to this must be ascribed the permanence of some sentences as abbreviated in the haste he has described. a notable instance is the dropping out of his estimate of jesus the words rendered by lanthenas "trop peu imite, trop oublie, trop meconnu." the addition of these words to paine's tribute makes it the more notable that almost the only recognition of the human character and life of jesus by any theological writer of that generation came from one long branded as an infidel. to the inability of the prisoner to give his work any revision must be attributed the preservation in it of the singular error already alluded to, as one that lanthenas, but for his extreme fidelity, would have corrected. this is paine's repeated mention of six planets, and enumeration of them, twelve years after the discovery of uranus. paine was a devoted student of astronomy, and it cannot for a moment be supposed that he had not participated in the universal welcome of herschel's discovery. the omission of any allusion to it convinces me that the astronomical episode was printed from a manuscript written before , when uranus was discovered. unfamiliar with french in , paine might not have discovered the erratum in lanthenas' translation, and, having no time for copying, he would naturally use as much as possible of the same manuscript in preparing his work for english readers. but he had no opportunity of revision, and there remains an erratum which, if my conjecture be correct, casts a significant light on the paragraphs in which he alludes to the preparation of the work. he states that soon after his publication of "common sense" ( ), he "saw the exceeding probability that a revolution in the system of government would be followed by a revolution in the system of religion," and that "man would return to the pure, unmixed, and unadulterated belief of one god and no more." he tells samuel adams that it had long been his intention to publish his thoughts upon religion, and he had made a similar remark to john adams in . like the quakers among whom he was reared paine could then readily use the phrase "word of god" for anything in the bible which approved itself to his "inner light," and as he had drawn from the first book of samuel a divine condemnation of monarchy, john adams, a unitarian, asked him if he believed in the inspiration of the old testament. paine replied that he did not, and at a later period meant to publish his views on the subject. there is little doubt that he wrote from time to time on religious points, during the american war, without publishing his thoughts, just as he worked on the problem of steam navigation, in which he had invented a practicable method (ten years before john fitch made his discovery) without publishing it. at any rate it appears to me certain that the part of "the age of reason" connected with paine's favorite science, astronomy, was written before , when uranus was discovered. paine's theism, however invested with biblical and christian phraseology, was a birthright. it appears clear from several allusions in "the age of reason" to the quakers that in his early life, or before the middle of the eighteenth century, the people so called were substantially deists. an interesting confirmation of paine's statements concerning them appears as i write in an account sent by count leo tolstoi to the london 'times' of the russian sect called dukhobortsy (the times, october , ). this sect sprang up in the last century, and the narrative says: "the first seeds of the teaching called afterwards 'dukhoborcheskaya' were sown by a foreigner, a quaker, who came to russia. the fundamental idea of his quaker teaching was that in the soul of man dwells god himself, and that he himself guides man by his inner word. god lives in nature physically and in man's soul spiritually. to christ, as to an historical personage, the dukhobortsy do not ascribe great importance... christ was god's son, but only in the sense in which we call, ourselves 'sons of god.' the purpose of christ's sufferings was no other than to show us an example of suffering for truth. the quakers who, in , visited the dukhobortsy, could not agree with them upon these religious subjects; and when they heard from them their opinion about jesus christ (that he was a man), exclaimed 'darkness!' from the old and new testaments,' they say, 'we take only what is useful,' mostly the moral teaching.... the moral ideas of the dukhobortsy are the following:--all men are, by nature, equal; external distinctions, whatsoever they may be, are worth nothing. this idea of men's equality the dukhoborts have directed further, against the state authority.... amongst themselves they hold subordination, and much more, a monarchical government, to be contrary to their ideas." here is an early hicksite quakerism carried to russia long before the birth of elias hicks, who recovered it from paine, to whom the american quakers refused burial among them. although paine arraigned the union of church and state, his ideal republic was religious; it was based on a conception of equality based on the divine son-ship of every man. this faith underlay equally his burden against claims to divine partiality by a "chosen people," a priesthood, a monarch "by the grace of god," or an aristocracy. paine's "reason" is only an expansion of the quaker's "inner light"; and the greater impression, as compared with previous republican and deistic writings made by his "rights of man" and "age of reason" (really volumes of one work), is partly explained by the apostolic fervor which made him a spiritual, successor of george fox. paine's mind was by no means skeptical, it was eminently instructive. that he should have waited until his fifty-seventh year before publishing his religious convictions was due to a desire to work out some positive and practicable system to take the place of that which he believed was crumbling. the english engineer hall, who assisted paine in making the model of his iron bridge, wrote to his friends in england, in : "my employer has common sense enough to disbelieve most of the common systematic theories of divinity, but does not seem to establish any for himself." but five years later paine was able to lay the corner-stone of his temple: "with respect to religion itself, without regard to names, and as directing itself from the universal family of mankind to the 'divine object of all adoration, it is man bringing to his maker the fruits of his heart; and though those fruits may differ from each other like the fruits of the earth, the grateful tribute of every one, is accepted." ("rights of man." see my edition of paine's writings, ii., p. .) here we have a reappearance of george fox confuting the doctor in america who "denied the light and spirit of god to be in every one; and affirmed that it was not in the indians. whereupon i called an indian to us, and asked him 'whether or not, when he lied, or did wrong to anyone, there was not something in him that reproved him for it?' he said, 'there was such a thing in him that did so reprove him; and he was ashamed when he had done wrong, or spoken wrong.' so we shamed the doctor before the governor and the people." (journal of george fox, september .) paine, who coined the phrase "religion of humanity" (the crisis, vii., ), did but logically defend it in "the age of reason," by denying a special revelation to any particular tribe, or divine authority in any particular creed of church; and the centenary of this much-abused publication has been celebrated by a great conservative champion of church and state, mr. balfour, who, in his "foundations of belief," affirms that "inspiration" cannot be denied to the great oriental teachers, unless grapes may be gathered from thorns. the centenary of the complete publication of "the age of reason," (october , ), was also celebrated at the church congress, norwich, on october , , when professor bonney, f.r.s., canon of manchester, read a paper in which he said: "i cannot deny that the increase of scientific knowledge has deprived parts of the earlier books of the bible of the historical value which was generally attributed to them by our forefathers. the story of creation in the book of genesis, unless we play fast and loose either with words or with science, cannot be brought into harmony with what we have learnt from geology. its ethnological statements are imperfect, if not sometimes inaccurate. the stories of the fall, of the flood, and of the tower of babel, are incredible in their present form. some historical element may underlie many of the traditions in the first eleven chapters in that book, but this we cannot hope to recover." canon bonney proceeded to say of the new testament also, that "the gospels are not so far as we know, strictly contemporaneous records, so we must admit the possibility of variations and even inaccuracies in details being introduced by oral tradition." the canon thinks the interval too short for these importations to be serious, but that any question of this kind is left open proves the age of reason fully upon us. reason alone can determine how many texts are as spurious as the three heavenly witnesses (i john v. ), and like it "serious" enough to have cost good men their lives, and persecutors their charities. when men interpolate, it is because they believe their interpolation seriously needed. it will be seen by a note in part ii. of the work, that paine calls attention to an interpolation introduced into the first american edition without indication of its being an editorial footnote. this footnote was: "the book of luke was carried by a majority of one only. vide moshelm's ecc. history." dr. priestley, then in america, answered paine's work, and in quoting less than a page from the "age of reason" he made three alterations,--one of which changed "church mythologists" into "christian mythologists,"--and also raised the editorial footnote into the text, omitting the reference to mosheim. having done this, priestley writes: "as to the gospel of luke being carried by a majority of one only, it is a legend, if not of mr. paine's own invention, of no better authority whatever." and so on with further castigation of the author for what he never wrote, and which he himself (priestley) was the unconscious means of introducing into the text within the year of paine's publication. if this could be done, unintentionally by a conscientious and exact man, and one not unfriendly to paine, if such a writer as priestley could make four mistakes in citing half a page, it will appear not very wonderful when i state that in a modern popular edition of "the age of reason," including both parts, i have noted about five hundred deviations from the original. these were mainly the accumulated efforts of friendly editors to improve paine's grammar or spelling; some were misprints, or developed out of such; and some resulted from the sale in london of a copy of part second surreptitiously made from the manuscript. these facts add significance to paine's footnote (itself altered in some editions!), in which he says: "if this has happened within such a short space of time, notwithstanding the aid of printing, which prevents the alteration of copies individually; what may not have happened in a much greater length of time, when there was no printing, and when any man who could write, could make a written copy, and call it an original, by matthew, mark, luke, or john." nothing appears to me more striking, as an illustration of the far-reaching effects of traditional prejudice, than the errors into which some of our ablest contemporary scholars have fallen by reason of their not having studied paine. professor huxley, for instance, speaking of the freethinkers of the eighteenth century, admires the acuteness, common sense, wit, and the broad humanity of the best of them, but says "there is rarely much to be said for their work as an example of the adequate treatment of a grave and difficult investigation," and that they shared with their adversaries "to the full the fatal weakness of a priori philosophizing." [note: science and christian tradition, p. (lon. ed., ).] professor huxley does not name paine, evidently because he knows nothing about him. yet paine represents the turning-point of the historical freethinking movement; he renounced the 'a priori' method, refused to pronounce anything impossible outside pure mathematics, rested everything on evidence, and really founded the huxleyan school. he plagiarized by anticipation many things from the rationalistic leaders of our time, from strauss and baur (being the first to expatiate on "christian mythology"), from renan (being the first to attempt recovery of the human jesus), and notably from huxley, who has repeated paine's arguments on the untrustworthiness of the biblical manuscripts and canon, on the inconsistencies of the narratives of christ's resurrection, and various other points. none can be more loyal to the memory of huxley than the present writer, and it is even because of my sense of his grand leadership that he is here mentioned as a typical instance of the extent to which the very elect of free-thought may be unconsciously victimized by the phantasm with which they are contending. he says that butler overthrew freethinkers of the eighteenth century type, but paine was of the nineteenth century type; and it was precisely because of his critical method that he excited more animosity than his deistical predecessors. he compelled the apologists to defend the biblical narratives in detail, and thus implicitly acknowledge the tribunal of reason and knowledge to which they were summoned. the ultimate answer by police was a confession of judgment. a hundred years ago england was suppressing paine's works, and many an honest englishman has gone to prison for printing and circulating his "age of reason." the same views are now freely expressed; they are heard in the seats of learning, and even in the church congress; but the suppression of paine, begun by bigotry and ignorance, is continued in the long indifference of the representatives of our age of reason to their pioneer and founder. it is a grievous loss to them and to their cause. it is impossible to understand the religious history of england, and of america, without studying the phases of their evolution represented in the writings of thomas paine, in the controversies that grew out of them with such practical accompaniments as the foundation of the theophilanthropist church in paris and new york, and of the great rationalist wing of quakerism in america. whatever may be the case with scholars in our time, those of paine's time took the "age of reason" very seriously indeed. beginning with the learned dr. richard watson, bishop of llandaff, a large number of learned men replied to paine's work, and it became a signal for the commencement of those concessions, on the part of theology, which have continued to our time; and indeed the so-called "broad church" is to some extent an outcome of "the age of reason." it would too much enlarge this introduction to cite here the replies made to paine (thirty-six are catalogued in the british museum), but it may be remarked that they were notably free, as a rule, from the personalities that raged in the pulpits. i must venture to quote one passage from his very learned antagonist, the rev. gilbert wakefield, b.a., "late fellow of jesus college, cambridge." wakefield, who had resided in london during all the paine panic, and was well acquainted with the slanders uttered against the author of "rights of man," indirectly brands them in answering paine's argument that the original and traditional unbelief of the jews, among whom the alleged miracles were wrought, is an important evidence against them. the learned divine writes: "but the subject before us admits of further illustration from the example of mr. paine himself. in this country, where his opposition to the corruptions of government has raised him so many adversaries, and such a swarm of unprincipled hirelings have exerted themselves in blackening his character and in misrepresenting all the transactions and incidents of his life, will it not be a most difficult, nay an impossible task, for posterity, after a lapse of years, if such a wreck of modern literature as that of the ancient, should intervene, to identify the real circumstances, moral and civil, of the man? and will a true historian, such as the evangelists, be credited at that future period against such a predominant incredulity, without large and mighty accessions of collateral attestation? and how transcendently extraordinary, i had almost said miraculous, will it be estimated by candid and reasonable minds, that a writer whose object was a melioration of condition to the common people, and their deliverance from oppression, poverty, wretchedness, to the numberless blessings of upright and equal government, should be reviled, persecuted, and burned in effigy, with every circumstance of insult and execration, by these very objects of his benevolent intentions, in every corner of the kingdom?" after the execution of louis xvi., for whose life paine pleaded so earnestly,--while in england he was denounced as an accomplice in the deed,--he devoted himself to the preparation of a constitution, and also to gathering up his religious compositions and adding to them. this manuscript i suppose to have been prepared in what was variously known as white's hotel or philadelphia house, in paris, no. passage des petits peres. this compilation of early and fresh manuscripts (if my theory be correct) was labelled, "the age of reason," and given for translation to francois lanthenas in march . it is entered, in qudrard (la france literaire) under the year , but with the title "l'age de la raison" instead of that which it bore in , "le siecle de la raison." the latter, printed "au burcau de l'imprimerie, rue du theatre-francais, no. ," is said to be by "thomas paine, citoyen et cultivateur de l'amerique septentrionale, secretaire du congres du departement des affaires etrangeres pendant la guerre d'amerique, et auteur des ouvrages intitules: la sens commun et les droits de l'homme." when the revolution was advancing to increasing terrors, paine, unwilling to participate in the decrees of a convention whose sole legal function was to frame a constitution, retired to an old mansion and garden in the faubourg st. denis, no. . mr. j.g. alger, whose researches in personal details connected with the revolution are original and useful, recently showed me in the national archives at paris, some papers connected with the trial of georgeit, paine's landlord, by which it appears that the present no. is not, as i had supposed, the house in which paine resided. mr. alger accompanied me to the neighborhood, but we were not able to identify the house. the arrest of georgeit is mentioned by paine in his essay on "forgetfulness" (writings, iii., ). when his trial came on one of the charges was that he had kept in his house "paine and other englishmen,"--paine being then in prison,--but he (georgeit) was acquitted of the paltry accusations brought against him by his section, the "faubourg du nord." this section took in the whole east side of the faubourg st. denis, whereas the present no. is on the west side. after georgeit (or georger) had been arrested, paine was left alone in the large mansion (said by rickman to have been once the hotel of madame de pompadour), and it would appear, by his account, that it was after the execution (october , ) of his friends the girondins, and political comrades, that he felt his end at hand, and set about his last literary bequest to the world,--"the age of reason,"--in the state in which it has since appeared, as he is careful to say. there was every probability, during the months in which he wrote (november and december ) that he would be executed. his religious testament was prepared with the blade of the guillotine suspended over him,--a fact which did not deter pious mythologists from portraying his death-bed remorse for having written the book. in editing part i. of "the age of reason," i follow closely the first edition, which was printed by barrois in paris from the manuscript, no doubt under the superintendence of joel barlow, to whom paine, on his way to the luxembourg, had confided it. barlow was an american ex-clergyman, a speculator on whose career french archives cast an unfavorable light, and one cannot be certain that no liberties were taken with paine's proofs. i may repeat here what i have stated in the outset of my editorial work on paine that my rule is to correct obvious misprints, and also any punctuation which seems to render the sense less clear. and to that i will now add that in following paine's quotations from the bible i have adopted the plan now generally used in place of his occasionally too extended writing out of book, chapter, and verse. paine was imprisoned in the luxembourg on december , , and released on november , . his liberation was secured by his old friend, james monroe (afterwards president), who had succeeded his (paine's) relentless enemy, gouverneur morris, as american minister in paris. he was found by monroe more dead than alive from semi-starvation, cold, and an abscess contracted in prison, and taken to the minister's own residence. it was not supposed that he could survive, and he owed his life to the tender care of mr. and mrs. monroe. it was while thus a prisoner in his room, with death still hovering over him, that paine wrote part second of "the age of reason." the work was published in london by h.d. symonds on october , , and claimed to be "from the author's manuscript." it is marked as "entered at stationers hall," and prefaced by an apologetic note of "the bookseller to the public," whose commonplaces about avoiding both prejudice and partiality, and considering "both sides," need not be quoted. while his volume was going through the press in paris, paine heard of the publication in london, which drew from him the following hurried note to a london publisher, no doubt daniel isaacs eaton: "sir,--i have seen advertised in the london papers the second edition [part] of the age of reason, printed, the advertisement says, from the author's manuscript, and entered at stationers hall. i have never sent any manuscript to any person. it is therefore a forgery to say it is printed from the author's manuscript; and i suppose is done to give the publisher a pretence of copy right, which he has no title to. "i send you a printed copy, which is the only one i have sent to london. i wish you to make a cheap edition of it. i know not by what means any copy has got over to london. if any person has made a manuscript copy i have no doubt but it is full of errors. i wish you would talk to mr. ----- upon this subject as i wish to know by what means this trick has been played, and from whom the publisher has got possession of any copy. "t. paine. "paris, december , " eaton's cheap edition appeared january , , with the above letter on the reverse of the title. the blank in the note was probably "symonds" in the original, and possibly that publisher was imposed upon. eaton, already in trouble for printing one of paine's political pamphlets, fled to america, and an edition of the "age of reason" was issued under a new title; no publisher appears; it is said to be "printed for, and sold by all the booksellers in great britain and ireland." it is also said to be "by thomas paine, author of several remarkable performances." i have never found any copy of this anonymous edition except the one in my possession. it is evidently the edition which was suppressed by the prosecution of williams for selling a copy of it. a comparison with paine's revised edition reveals a good many clerical and verbal errors in symonds, though few that affect the sense. the worst are in the preface, where, instead of " ," the misleading date " " is given as the year at whose close paine completed part first,--an error that spread far and wide and was fastened on by his calumnious american "biographer," cheetham, to prove his inconsistency. the editors have been fairly demoralized by, and have altered in different ways, the following sentence of the preface in symonds: "the intolerant spirit of religious persecution had transferred itself into politics; the tribunals, styled revolutionary, supplied the place of the inquisition; and the guillotine of the state outdid the fire and faggot of the church." the rogue who copied this little knew the care with which paine weighed words, and that he would never call persecution "religious," nor connect the guillotine with the "state," nor concede that with all its horrors it had outdone the history of fire and faggot. what paine wrote was: "the intolerant spirit of church persecution had transferred itself into politics; the tribunals, styled revolutionary, supplied the place of an inquisition and the guillotine, of the stake." an original letter of paine, in the possession of joseph cowen, ex-m.p., which that gentleman permits me to bring to light, besides being one of general interest makes clear the circumstances of the original publication. although the name of the correspondent does not appear on the letter, it was certainly written to col. john fellows of new york, who copyrighted part i. of the "age of reason." he published the pamphlets of joel barlow, to whom paine confided his manuscript on his way to prison. fellows was afterwards paine's intimate friend in new york, and it was chiefly due to him that some portions of the author's writings, left in manuscript to madame bonneville while she was a freethinker were rescued from her devout destructiveness after her return to catholicism. the letter which mr. cowen sends me, is dated at paris, january , . "sir,--your friend mr. caritat being on the point of his departure for america, i make it the opportunity of writing to you. i received two letters from you with some pamphlets a considerable time past, in which you inform me of your entering a copyright of the first part of the age of reason: when i return to america we will settle for that matter. "as doctor franklin has been my intimate friend for thirty years past you will naturally see the reason of my continuing the connection with his grandson. i printed here (paris) about fifteen thousand of the second part of the age of reason, which i sent to mr. f[ranklin] bache. i gave him notice of it in september and the copy-right by my own direction was entered by him. the books did not arrive till april following, but he had advertised it long before. "i sent to him in august last a manuscript letter of about pages, from me to mr. washington to be printed in a pamphlet. mr. barnes of philadelphia carried the letter from me over to london to be forwarded to america. it went by the ship hope, cap: harley, who since his return from america told me that he put it into the post office at new york for bache. i have yet no certain account of its publication. i mention this that the letter may be enquired after, in case it has not been published or has not arrived to mr. bache. barnes wrote to me, from london august informing me that he was offered three hundred pounds sterling for the manuscript. the offer was refused because it was my intention it should not appear till it appeared in america, as that, and not england was the place for its operation. "you ask me by your letter to mr. caritat for a list of my several works, in order to publish a collection of them. this is an undertaking i have always reserved for myself. it not only belongs to me of right, but nobody but myself can do it; and as every author is accountable (at least in reputation) for his works, he only is the person to do it. if he neglects it in his life-time the case is altered. it is my intention to return to america in the course of the present year. i shall then [do] it by subscription, with historical notes. as this work will employ many persons in different parts of the union, i will confer with you upon the subject, and such part of it as will suit you to undertake, will be at your choice. i have sustained so much loss, by disinterestedness and inattention to money matters, and by accidents, that i am obliged to look closer to my affairs than i have done. the printer (an englishman) whom i employed here to print the second part of 'the age of reason' made a manuscript copy of the work while he was printing it, which he sent to london and sold. it was by this means that an edition of it came out in london. "we are waiting here for news from america of the state of the federal elections. you will have heard long before this reaches you that the french government has refused to receive mr. pinckney as minister. while mr. monroe was minister he had the opportunity of softening matters with this government, for he was in good credit with them tho' they were in high indignation at the infidelity of the washington administration. it is time that mr. washington retire, for he has played off so much prudent hypocrisy between france and england that neither government believes anything he says. "your friend, etc., "thomas paine." it would appear that symonds' stolen edition must have got ahead of that sent by paine to franklin bache, for some of its errors continue in all modern american editions to the present day, as well as in those of england. for in england it was only the shilling edition--that revised by paine--which was suppressed. symonds, who ministered to the half-crown folk, and who was also publisher of replies to paine, was left undisturbed about his pirated edition, and the new society for the suppression of vice and immorality fastened on one thomas williams, who sold pious tracts but was also convicted (june , ) of having sold one copy of the "age of reason." erskine, who had defended paine at his trial for the "rights of man," conducted the prosecution of williams. he gained the victory from a packed jury, but was not much elated by it, especially after a certain adventure on his way to lincoln's inn. he felt his coat clutched and beheld at his feet a woman bathed in tears. she led him into the small book-shop of thomas williams, not yet called up for judgment, and there he beheld his victim stitching tracts in a wretched little room, where there were three children, two suffering with smallpox. he saw that it would be ruin and even a sort of murder to take away to prison the husband, who was not a freethinker, and lamented his publication of the book, and a meeting of the society which had retained him was summoned. there was a full meeting, the bishop of london (porteus) in the chair. erskine reminded them that williams was yet to be brought up for sentence, described the scene he had witnessed, and williams' penitence, and, as the book was now suppressed, asked permission to move for a nominal sentence. mercy, he urged, was a part of the christianity they were defending. not one of the society took his side,--not even "philanthropic" wilberforce--and erskine threw up his brief. this action of erskine led the judge to give williams only a year in prison instead of the three he said had been intended. while williams was in prison the orthodox colporteurs were circulating erskine's speech on christianity, but also an anonymous sermon "on the existence and attributes of the deity," all of which was from paine's "age of reason," except a brief "address to the deity" appended. this picturesque anomaly was repeated in the circulation of paine's "discourse to the theophilanthropists" (their and the author's names removed) under the title of "atheism refuted." both of these pamphlets are now before me, and beside them a london tract of one page just sent for my spiritual benefit. this is headed "a word of caution." it begins by mentioning the "pernicious doctrines of paine," the first being "that there is no god" (sic,) then proceeds to adduce evidences of divine existence taken from paine's works. it should be added that this one dingy page is the only "survival" of the ancient paine effigy in the tract form which i have been able to find in recent years, and to this no society or publisher's name is attached. the imprisonment of williams was the beginning of a thirty years' war for religious liberty in england, in the course of which occurred many notable events, such as eaton receiving homage in his pillory at choring cross, and the whole carlile family imprisoned,--its head imprisoned more than nine years for publishing the "age of reason." this last victory of persecution was suicidal. gentlemen of wealth, not adherents of paine, helped in setting carlile up in business in fleet street, where free-thinking publications have since been sold without interruption. but though liberty triumphed in one sense, the "age of reason." remained to some extent suppressed among those whose attention it especially merited. its original prosecution by a society for the suppression of vice (a device to, relieve the crown) amounted to a libel upon a morally clean book, restricting its perusal in families; and the fact that the shilling book sold by and among humble people was alone prosecuted, diffused among the educated an equally false notion that the "age of reason" was vulgar and illiterate. the theologians, as we have seen, estimated more justly the ability of their antagonist, the collaborator of franklin, rittenhouse, and clymer, on whom the university of pennsylvania had conferred the degree of master of arts,--but the gentry confused paine with the class described by burke as "the swinish multitude." skepticism, or its free utterance, was temporarily driven out of polite circles by its complication with the out-lawed vindicator of the "rights of man." but that long combat has now passed away. time has reduced the "age of reason" from a flag of popular radicalism to a comparatively conservative treatise, so far as its negations are concerned. an old friend tells me that in his youth he heard a sermon in which the preacher declared that "tom paine was so wicked that he could not be buried; his bones were thrown into a box which was bandied about the world till it came to a button-manufacturer; and now paine is travelling round the world in the form of buttons!" this variant of the wandering jew myth may now be regarded as unconscious homage to the author whose metaphorical bones may be recognized in buttons now fashionable, and some even found useful in holding clerical vestments together. but the careful reader will find in paine's "age of reason" something beyond negations, and in conclusion i will especially call attention to the new departure in theism indicated in a passage corresponding to a famous aphorism of kant, indicated by a note in part ii. the discovery already mentioned, that part i. was written at least fourteen years before part ii., led me to compare the two; and it is plain that while the earlier work is an amplification of newtonian deism, based on the phenomena of planetary motion, the work of bases belief in god on "the universal display of himself in the works of the creation and by that repugnance we feel in ourselves to bad actions, and disposition to do good ones." this exaltation of the moral nature of man to be the foundation of theistic religion, though now familiar, was a hundred years ago a new affirmation; it has led on a conception of deity subversive of last-century deism, it has steadily humanized religion, and its ultimate philosophical and ethical results have not yet been reached. chapter i - the author's profession of faith. it has been my intention, for several years past, to publish my thoughts upon religion; i am well aware of the difficulties that attend the subject, and from that consideration, had reserved it to a more advanced period of life. i intended it to be the last offering i should make to my fellow-citizens of all nations, and that at a time when the purity of the motive that induced me to it could not admit of a question, even by those who might disapprove the work. the circumstance that has now taken place in france, of the total abolition of the whole national order of priesthood, and of everything appertaining to compulsive systems of religion, and compulsive articles of faith, has not only precipitated my intention, but rendered a work of this kind exceedingly necessary, lest, in the general wreck of superstition, of false systems of government, and false theology, we lose sight of morality, of humanity, and of the theology that is true. as several of my colleagues, and others of my fellow-citizens of france, have given me the example of making their voluntary and individual profession of faith, i also will make mine; and i do this with all that sincerity and frankness with which the mind of man communicates with itself. i believe in one god, and no more; and i hope for happiness beyond this life. i believe the equality of man, and i believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy. but, lest it should be supposed that i believe many other things in addition to these, i shall, in the progress of this work, declare the things i do not believe, and my reasons for not believing them. i do not believe in the creed professed by the jewish church, by the roman church, by the greek church, by the turkish church, by the protestant church, nor by any church that i know of. my own mind is my own church. all national institutions of churches, whether jewish, christian, or turkish, appear to me no other than human inventions set up to terrify and enslave mankind, and monopolize power and profit. i do not mean by this declaration to condemn those who believe otherwise; they have the same right to their belief as i have to mine. but it is necessary to the happiness of man, that he be mentally faithful to himself. infidelity does not consist in believing, or in disbelieving; it consists in professing to believe what he does not believe. it is impossible to calculate the moral mischief, if i may so express it, that mental lying has produced in society. when a man has so far corrupted and prostituted the chastity of his mind, as to subscribe his professional belief to things he does not believe, he has prepared himself for the commission of every other crime. he takes up the trade of a priest for the sake of gain, and, in order to qualify himself for that trade, he begins with a perjury. can we conceive anything more destructive to morality than this? soon after i had published the pamphlet common sense, in america, i saw the exceeding probability that a revolution in the system of government would be followed by a revolution in the system of religion. the adulterous connection of church and state, wherever it had taken place, whether jewish, christian, or turkish, had so effectually prohibited, by pains and penalties, every discussion upon established creeds, and upon first principles of religion, that until the system of government should be changed, those subjects could not be brought fairly and openly before the world; but that whenever this should be done, a revolution in the system of religion would follow. human inventions and priest-craft would be detected; and man would return to the pure, unmixed, and unadulterated belief of one god, and no more. chapter ii - of missions and revelations. every national church or religion has established itself by pretending some special mission from god, communicated to certain individuals. the jews have their moses; the christians their jesus christ, their apostles and saints; and the turks their mahomet; as if the way to god was not open to every man alike. each of those churches shows certain books, which they call revelation, or the word of god. the jews say that their word of god was given by god to moses face to face; the christians say, that their word of god came by divine inspiration; and the turks say, that their word of god (the koran) was brought by an angel from heaven. each of those churches accuses the other of unbelief; and, for my own part, i disbelieve them all. as it is necessary to affix right ideas to words, i will, before i proceed further into the subject, offer some observations on the word 'revelation.' revelation when applied to religion, means something communicated immediately from god to man. no one will deny or dispute the power of the almighty to make such a communication if he pleases. but admitting, for the sake of a case, that something has been revealed to a certain person, and not revealed to any other person, it is revelation to that person only. when he tells it to a second person, a second to a third, a third to a fourth, and so on, it ceases to be a revelation to all those persons. it is revelation to the first person only, and hearsay to every other, and, consequently, they are not obliged to believe it. it is a contradiction in terms and ideas to call anything a revelation that comes to us at second hand, either verbally or in writing. revelation is necessarily limited to the first communication. after this, it is only an account of something which that person says was a revelation made to him; and though he may find himself obliged to believe it, it cannot be incumbent on me to believe it in the same manner, for it was not a revelation made to me, and i have only his word for it that it was made to him. when moses told the children of israel that he received the two tables of the commandments from the hand of god, they were not obliged to believe him, because they had no other authority for it than his telling them so; and i have no other authority for it than some historian telling me so, the commandments carrying no internal evidence of divinity with them. they contain some good moral precepts such as any man qualified to be a lawgiver or a legislator could produce himself, without having recourse to supernatural intervention. [note: it is, however, necessary to except the declamation which says that god 'visits the sins of the fathers upon the children'. this is contrary to every principle of moral justice.--author.] when i am told that the koran was written in heaven, and brought to mahomet by an angel, the account comes to near the same kind of hearsay evidence and second hand authority as the former. i did not see the angel myself, and therefore i have a right not to believe it. when also i am told that a woman, called the virgin mary, said, or gave out, that she was with child without any cohabitation with a man, and that her betrothed husband, joseph, said that an angel told him so, i have a right to believe them or not: such a circumstance required a much stronger evidence than their bare word for it: but we have not even this; for neither joseph nor mary wrote any such matter themselves. it is only reported by others that they said so. it is hearsay upon hearsay, and i do not chose to rest my belief upon such evidence. it is, however, not difficult to account for the credit that was given to the story of jesus christ being the son of god. he was born when the heathen mythology had still some fashion and repute in the world, and that mythology had prepared the people for the belief of such a story. almost all the extraordinary men that lived under the heathen mythology were reputed to be the sons of some of their gods. it was not a new thing at that time to believe a man to have been celestially begotten; the intercourse of gods with women was then a matter of familiar opinion. their jupiter, according to their accounts, had cohabited with hundreds; the story therefore had nothing in it either new, wonderful, or obscene; it was conformable to the opinions that then prevailed among the people called gentiles, or mythologists, and it was those people only that believed it. the jews, who had kept strictly to the belief of one god, and no more, and who had always rejected the heathen mythology, never credited the story. it is curious to observe how the theory of what is called the christian church, sprung out of the tail of the heathen mythology. a direct incorporation took place in the first instance, by making the reputed founder to be celestially begotten. the trinity of gods that then followed was no other than a reduction of the former plurality, which was about twenty or thirty thousand. the statue of mary succeeded the statue of diana of ephesus. the deification of heroes changed into the canonization of saints. the mythologists had gods for everything; the christian mythologists had saints for everything. the church became as crowded with the one, as the pantheon had been with the other; and rome was the place of both. the christian theory is little else than the idolatry of the ancient mythologists, accommodated to the purposes of power and revenue; and it yet remains to reason and philosophy to abolish the amphibious fraud. chapter iii - concerning the character of jesus christ, and his history. nothing that is here said can apply, even with the most distant disrespect, to the real character of jesus christ. he was a virtuous and an amiable man. the morality that he preached and practiced was of the most benevolent kind; and though similar systems of morality had been preached by confucius, and by some of the greek philosophers, many years before, by the quakers since, and by many good men in all ages, it has not been exceeded by any. jesus christ wrote no account of himself, of his birth, parentage, or anything else. not a line of what is called the new testament is of his writing. the history of him is altogether the work of other people; and as to the account given of his resurrection and ascension, it was the necessary counterpart to the story of his birth. his historians, having brought him into the world in a supernatural manner, were obliged to take him out again in the same manner, or the first part of the story must have fallen to the ground. the wretched contrivance with which this latter part is told, exceeds everything that went before it. the first part, that of the miraculous conception, was not a thing that admitted of publicity; and therefore the tellers of this part of the story had this advantage, that though they might not be credited, they could not be detected. they could not be expected to prove it, because it was not one of those things that admitted of proof, and it was impossible that the person of whom it was told could prove it himself. but the resurrection of a dead person from the grave, and his ascension through the air, is a thing very different, as to the evidence it admits of, to the invisible conception of a child in the womb. the resurrection and ascension, supposing them to have taken place, admitted of public and ocular demonstration, like that of the ascension of a balloon, or the sun at noon day, to all jerusalem at least. a thing which everybody is required to believe, requires that the proof and evidence of it should be equal to all, and universal; and as the public visibility of this last related act was the only evidence that could give sanction to the former part, the whole of it falls to the ground, because that evidence never was given. instead of this, a small number of persons, not more than eight or nine, are introduced as proxies for the whole world, to say they saw it, and all the rest of the world are called upon to believe it. but it appears that thomas did not believe the resurrection; and, as they say, would not believe without having ocular and manual demonstration himself. so neither will i; and the reason is equally as good for me, and for every other person, as for thomas. it is in vain to attempt to palliate or disguise this matter. the story, so far as relates to the supernatural part, has every mark of fraud and imposition stamped upon the face of it. who were the authors of it is as impossible for us now to know, as it is for us to be assured that the books in which the account is related were written by the persons whose names they bear. the best surviving evidence we now have respecting this affair is the jews. they are regularly descended from the people who lived in the time this resurrection and ascension is said to have happened, and they say 'it is not true.' it has long appeared to me a strange inconsistency to cite the jews as a proof of the truth of the story. it is just the same as if a man were to say, i will prove the truth of what i have told you, by producing the people who say it is false. that such a person as jesus christ existed, and that he was crucified, which was the mode of execution at that day, are historical relations strictly within the limits of probability. he preached most excellent morality, and the equality of man; but he preached also against the corruptions and avarice of the jewish priests, and this brought upon him the hatred and vengeance of the whole order of priest-hood. the accusation which those priests brought against him was that of sedition and conspiracy against the roman government, to which the jews were then subject and tributary; and it is not improbable that the roman government might have some secret apprehension of the effects of his doctrine as well as the jewish priests; neither is it improbable that jesus christ had in contemplation the delivery of the jewish nation from the bondage of the romans. between the two, however, this virtuous reformer and revolutionist lost his life. [note: the french work has here: "however this may be, for one or the other of these suppositions this virtuous reformer, this revolutionist, too little imitated, too much forgotten, too much misunderstood, lost his life."--editor. (conway)] chapter iv - of the bases of christianity. it is upon this plain narrative of facts, together with another case i am going to mention, that the christian mythologists, calling themselves the christian church, have erected their fable, which for absurdity and extravagance is not exceeded by anything that is to be found in the mythology of the ancients. the ancient mythologists tell us that the race of giants made war against jupiter, and that one of them threw a hundred rocks against him at one throw; that jupiter defeated him with thunder, and confined him afterwards under mount etna; and that every time the giant turns himself, mount etna belches fire. it is here easy to see that the circumstance of the mountain, that of its being a volcano, suggested the idea of the fable; and that the fable is made to fit and wind itself up with that circumstance. the christian mythologists tell that their satan made war against the almighty, who defeated him, and confined him afterwards, not under a mountain, but in a pit. it is here easy to see that the first fable suggested the idea of the second; for the fable of jupiter and the giants was told many hundred years before that of satan. thus far the ancient and the christian mythologists differ very little from each other. but the latter have contrived to carry the matter much farther. they have contrived to connect the fabulous part of the story of jesus christ with the fable originating from mount etna; and, in order to make all the parts of the story tie together, they have taken to their aid the traditions of the jews; for the christian mythology is made up partly from the ancient mythology, and partly from the jewish traditions. the christian mythologists, after having confined satan in a pit, were obliged to let him out again to bring on the sequel of the fable. he is then introduced into the garden of eden in the shape of a snake, or a serpent, and in that shape he enters into familiar conversation with eve, who is no ways surprised to hear a snake talk; and the issue of this tete-a-tate is, that he persuades her to eat an apple, and the eating of that apple damns all mankind. after giving satan this triumph over the whole creation, one would have supposed that the church mythologists would have been kind enough to send him back again to the pit, or, if they had not done this, that they would have put a mountain upon him, (for they say that their faith can remove a mountain) or have put him under a mountain, as the former mythologists had done, to prevent his getting again among the women, and doing more mischief. but instead of this, they leave him at large, without even obliging him to give his parole. the secret of which is, that they could not do without him; and after being at the trouble of making him, they bribed him to stay. they promised him all the jews, all the turks by anticipation, nine-tenths of the world beside, and mahomet into the bargain. after this, who can doubt the bountifulness of the christian mythology? having thus made an insurrection and a battle in heaven, in which none of the combatants could be either killed or wounded--put satan into the pit--let him out again--given him a triumph over the whole creation--damned all mankind by the eating of an apple, there christian mythologists bring the two ends of their fable together. they represent this virtuous and amiable man, jesus christ, to be at once both god and man, and also the son of god, celestially begotten, on purpose to be sacrificed, because they say that eve in her longing [note: the french work has: "yielding to an unrestrained appetite."--editor.] had eaten an apple. chapter v - examination in detail of the preceding bases. putting aside everything that might excite laughter by its absurdity, or detestation by its profaneness, and confining ourselves merely to an examination of the parts, it is impossible to conceive a story more derogatory to the almighty, more inconsistent with his wisdom, more contradictory to his power, than this story is. in order to make for it a foundation to rise upon, the inventors were under the necessity of giving to the being whom they call satan a power equally as great, if not greater, than they attribute to the almighty. they have not only given him the power of liberating himself from the pit, after what they call his fall, but they have made that power increase afterwards to infinity. before this fall they represent him only as an angel of limited existence, as they represent the rest. after his fall, he becomes, by their account, omnipresent. he exists everywhere, and at the same time. he occupies the whole immensity of space. not content with this deification of satan, they represent him as defeating by stratagem, in the shape of an animal of the creation, all the power and wisdom of the almighty. they represent him as having compelled the almighty to the direct necessity either of surrendering the whole of the creation to the government and sovereignty of this satan, or of capitulating for its redemption by coming down upon earth, and exhibiting himself upon a cross in the shape of a man. had the inventors of this story told it the contrary way, that is, had they represented the almighty as compelling satan to exhibit himself on a cross in the shape of a snake, as a punishment for his new transgression, the story would have been less absurd, less contradictory. but, instead of this they make the transgressor triumph, and the almighty fall. that many good men have believed this strange fable, and lived very good lives under that belief (for credulity is not a crime) is what i have no doubt of. in the first place, they were educated to believe it, and they would have believed anything else in the same manner. there are also many who have been so enthusiastically enraptured by what they conceived to be the infinite love of god to man, in making a sacrifice of himself, that the vehemence of the idea has forbidden and deterred them from examining into the absurdity and profaneness of the story. the more unnatural anything is, the more is it capable of becoming the object of dismal admiration. [note: the french work has "blind and" preceding dismal.--editor.] chapter vi - of the true theology. but if objects for gratitude and admiration are our desire, do they not present themselves every hour to our eyes? do we not see a fair creation prepared to receive us the instant we are born--a world furnished to our hands, that cost us nothing? is it we that light up the sun; that pour down the rain; and fill the earth with abundance? whether we sleep or wake, the vast machinery of the universe still goes on. are these things, and the blessings they indicate in future, nothing to, us? can our gross feelings be excited by no other subjects than tragedy and suicide? or is the gloomy pride of man become so intolerable, that nothing can flatter it but a sacrifice of the creator? i know that this bold investigation will alarm many, but it would be paying too great a compliment to their credulity to forbear it on that account. the times and the subject demand it to be done. the suspicion that the theory of what is called the christian church is fabulous, is becoming very extensive in all countries; and it will be a consolation to men staggering under that suspicion, and doubting what to believe and what to disbelieve, to see the subject freely investigated. i therefore pass on to an examination of the books called the old and the new testament. chapter vii - examination of the old testament. these books, beginning with genesis and ending with revelations, (which, by the bye, is a book of riddles that requires a revelation to explain it) are, we are told, the word of god. it is, therefore, proper for us to know who told us so, that we may know what credit to give to the report. the answer to this question is, that nobody can tell, except that we tell one another so. the case, however, historically appears to be as follows: when the church mythologists established their system, they collected all the writings they could find, and managed them as they pleased. it is a matter altogether of uncertainty to us whether such of the writings as now appear under the name of the old and the new testament, are in the same state in which those collectors say they found them; or whether they added, altered, abridged, or dressed them up. be this as it may, they decided by vote which of the books out of the collection they had made, should be the word of god, and which should not. they rejected several; they voted others to be doubtful, such as the books called the apocrypha; and those books which had a majority of votes, were voted to be the word of god. had they voted otherwise, all the people since calling themselves christians had believed otherwise; for the belief of the one comes from the vote of the other. who the people were that did all this, we know nothing of. they call themselves by the general name of the church; and this is all we know of the matter. as we have no other external evidence or authority for believing these books to be the word of god, than what i have mentioned, which is no evidence or authority at all, i come, in the next place, to examine the internal evidence contained in the books themselves. in the former part of this essay, i have spoken of revelation. i now proceed further with that subject, for the purpose of applying it to the books in question. revelation is a communication of something, which the person, to whom that thing is revealed, did not know before. for if i have done a thing, or seen it done, it needs no revelation to tell me i have done it, or seen it, nor to enable me to tell it, or to write it. revelation, therefore, cannot be applied to anything done upon earth of which man is himself the actor or the witness; and consequently all the historical and anecdotal part of the bible, which is almost the whole of it, is not within the meaning and compass of the word revelation, and, therefore, is not the word of god. when samson ran off with the gate-posts of gaza, if he ever did so, (and whether he did or not is nothing to us,) or when he visited his delilah, or caught his foxes, or did anything else, what has revelation to do with these things? if they were facts, he could tell them himself; or his secretary, if he kept one, could write them, if they were worth either telling or writing; and if they were fictions, revelation could not make them true; and whether true or not, we are neither the better nor the wiser for knowing them. when we contemplate the immensity of that being, who directs and governs the incomprehensible whole, of which the utmost ken of human sight can discover but a part, we ought to feel shame at calling such paltry stories the word of god. as to the account of the creation, with which the book of genesis opens, it has all the appearance of being a tradition which the israelites had among them before they came into egypt; and after their departure from that country, they put it at the head of their history, without telling, as it is most probable that they did not know, how they came by it. the manner in which the account opens, shows it to be traditionary. it begins abruptly. it is nobody that speaks. it is nobody that hears. it is addressed to nobody. it has neither first, second, nor third person. it has every criterion of being a tradition. it has no voucher. moses does not take it upon himself by introducing it with the formality that he uses on other occasions, such as that of saying, "the lords spake unto moses, saying." why it has been called the mosaic account of the creation, i am at a loss to conceive. moses, i believe, was too good a judge of such subjects to put his name to that account. he had been educated among the egyptians, who were a people as well skilled in science, and particularly in astronomy, as any people of their day; and the silence and caution that moses observes, in not authenticating the account, is a good negative evidence that he neither told it nor believed it.--the case is, that every nation of people has been world-makers, and the israelites had as much right to set up the trade of world-making as any of the rest; and as moses was not an israelite, he might not chose to contradict the tradition. the account, however, is harmless; and this is more than can be said for many other parts of the bible. whenever we read the obscene stories, the voluptuous debaucheries, the cruel and torturous executions, the unrelenting vindictiveness, with which more than half the bible [note: it must be borne in mind that by the "bible" paine always means the old testament alone.--editor.] is filled, it would be more consistent that we called it the word of a demon, than the word of god. it is a history of wickedness, that has served to corrupt and brutalize mankind; and, for my own part, i sincerely detest it, as i detest everything that is cruel. we scarcely meet with anything, a few phrases excepted, but what deserves either our abhorrence or our contempt, till we come to the miscellaneous parts of the bible. in the anonymous publications, the psalms, and the book of job, more particularly in the latter, we find a great deal of elevated sentiment reverentially expressed of the power and benignity of the almighty; but they stand on no higher rank than many other compositions on similar subjects, as well before that time as since. the proverbs which are said to be solomon's, though most probably a collection, (because they discover a knowledge of life, which his situation excluded him from knowing) are an instructive table of ethics. they are inferior in keenness to the proverbs of the spaniards, and not more wise and oeconomical than those of the american franklin. all the remaining parts of the bible, generally known by the name of the prophets, are the works of the jewish poets and itinerant preachers, who mixed poetry, anecdote, and devotion together--and those works still retain the air and style of poetry, though in translation. [note: as there are many readers who do not see that a composition is poetry, unless it be in rhyme, it is for their information that i add this note. poetry consists principally in two things--imagery and composition. the composition of poetry differs from that of prose in the manner of mixing long and short syllables together. take a long syllable out of a line of poetry, and put a short one in the room of it, or put a long syllable where a short one should be, and that line will lose its poetical harmony. it will have an effect upon the line like that of misplacing a note in a song. the imagery in those books called the prophets appertains altogether to poetry. it is fictitious, and often extravagant, and not admissible in any other kind of writing than poetry. to show that these writings are composed in poetical numbers, i will take ten syllables, as they stand in the book, and make a line of the same number of syllables, (heroic measure) that shall rhyme with the last word. it will then be seen that the composition of those books is poetical measure. the instance i shall first produce is from isaiah:-- "hear, o ye heavens, and give ear, o earth 't is god himself that calls attention forth. another instance i shall quote is from the mournful jeremiah, to which i shall add two other lines, for the purpose of carrying out the figure, and showing the intention of the poet. "o, that mine head were waters and mine eyes were fountains flowing like the liquid skies; then would i give the mighty flood release and weep a deluge for the human race."--author.] there is not, throughout the whole book called the bible, any word that describes to us what we call a poet, nor any word that describes what we call poetry. the case is, that the word prophet, to which a later times have affixed a new idea, was the bible word for poet, and the word 'propesying' meant the art of making poetry. it also meant the art of playing poetry to a tune upon any instrument of music. we read of prophesying with pipes, tabrets, and horns--of prophesying with harps, with psalteries, with cymbals, and with every other instrument of music then in fashion. were we now to speak of prophesying with a fiddle, or with a pipe and tabor, the expression would have no meaning, or would appear ridiculous, and to some people contemptuous, because we have changed the meaning of the word. we are told of saul being among the prophets, and also that he prophesied; but we are not told what they prophesied, nor what he prophesied. the case is, there was nothing to tell; for these prophets were a company of musicians and poets, and saul joined in the concert, and this was called prophesying. the account given of this affair in the book called samuel, is, that saul met a company of prophets; a whole company of them! coming down with a psaltery, a tabret, a pipe, and a harp, and that they prophesied, and that he prophesied with them. but it appears afterwards, that saul prophesied badly, that is, he performed his part badly; for it is said that an "evil spirit from god [note: as thos; men who call themselves divines and commentators are very fond of puzzling one another, i leave them to contest the meaning of the first part of the phrase, that of an evil spirit of god. i keep to my text. i keep to the meaning of the word prophesy.--author.] came upon saul, and he prophesied." now, were there no other passage in the book called the bible, than this, to demonstrate to us that we have lost the original meaning of the word prophesy, and substituted another meaning in its place, this alone would be sufficient; for it is impossible to use and apply the word prophesy, in the place it is here used and applied, if we give to it the sense which later times have affixed to it. the manner in which it is here used strips it of all religious meaning, and shews that a man might then be a prophet, or he might prophesy, as he may now be a poet or a musician, without any regard to the morality or the immorality of his character. the word was originally a term of science, promiscuously applied to poetry and to music, and not restricted to any subject upon which poetry and music might be exercised. deborah and barak are called prophets, not because they predicted anything, but because they composed the poem or song that bears their name, in celebration of an act already done. david is ranked among the prophets, for he was a musician, and was also reputed to be (though perhaps very erroneously) the author of the psalms. but abraham, isaac, and jacob are not called prophets; it does not appear from any accounts we have, that they could either sing, play music, or make poetry. we are told of the greater and the lesser prophets. they might as well tell us of the greater and the lesser god; for there cannot be degrees in prophesying consistently with its modern sense. but there are degrees in poetry, and there-fore the phrase is reconcilable to the case, when we understand by it the greater and the lesser poets. it is altogether unnecessary, after this, to offer any observations upon what those men, styled prophets, have written. the axe goes at once to the root, by showing that the original meaning of the word has been mistaken, and consequently all the inferences that have been drawn from those books, the devotional respect that has been paid to them, and the laboured commentaries that have been written upon them, under that mistaken meaning, are not worth disputing about.--in many things, however, the writings of the jewish poets deserve a better fate than that of being bound up, as they now are, with the trash that accompanies them, under the abused name of the word of god. if we permit ourselves to conceive right ideas of things, we must necessarily affix the idea, not only of unchangeableness, but of the utter impossibility of any change taking place, by any means or accident whatever, in that which we would honour with the name of the word of god; and therefore the word of god cannot exist in any written or human language. the continually progressive change to which the meaning of words is subject, the want of an universal language which renders translation necessary, the errors to which translations are again subject, the mistakes of copyists and printers, together with the possibility of wilful alteration, are of themselves evidences that human language, whether in speech or in print, cannot be the vehicle of the word of god.--the word of god exists in something else. did the book called the bible excel in purity of ideas and expression all the books now extant in the world, i would not take it for my rule of faith, as being the word of god; because the possibility would nevertheless exist of my being imposed upon. but when i see throughout the greatest part of this book scarcely anything but a history of the grossest vices, and a collection of the most paltry and contemptible tales, i cannot dishonour my creator by calling it by his name. chapter viii - of the new testament. thus much for the bible; i now go on to the book called the new testament. the new testament! that is, the 'new' will, as if there could be two wills of the creator. had it been the object or the intention of jesus christ to establish a new religion, he would undoubtedly have written the system himself, or procured it to be written in his life time. but there is no publication extant authenticated with his name. all the books called the new testament were written after his death. he was a jew by birth and by profession; and he was the son of god in like manner that every other person is; for the creator is the father of all. the first four books, called matthew, mark, luke, and john, do not give a history of the life of jesus christ, but only detached anecdotes of him. it appears from these books, that the whole time of his being a preacher was not more than eighteen months; and it was only during this short time that those men became acquainted with him. they make mention of him at the age of twelve years, sitting, they say, among the jewish doctors, asking and answering them questions. as this was several years before their acquaintance with him began, it is most probable they had this anecdote from his parents. from this time there is no account of him for about sixteen years. where he lived, or how he employed himself during this interval, is not known. most probably he was working at his father's trade, which was that of a carpenter. it does not appear that he had any school education, and the probability is, that he could not write, for his parents were extremely poor, as appears from their not being able to pay for a bed when he was born. [note: one of the few errors traceable to paine's not having a bible at hand while writing part i. there is no indication that the family was poor, but the reverse may in fact be inferred.--editor.] it is somewhat curious that the three persons whose names are the most universally recorded were of very obscure parentage. moses was a foundling; jesus christ was born in a stable; and mahomet was a mule driver. the first and the last of these men were founders of different systems of religion; but jesus christ founded no new system. he called men to the practice of moral virtues, and the belief of one god. the great trait in his character is philanthropy. the manner in which he was apprehended shows that he was not much known, at that time; and it shows also that the meetings he then held with his followers were in secret; and that he had given over or suspended preaching publicly. judas could no otherways betray him than by giving information where he was, and pointing him out to the officers that went to arrest him; and the reason for employing and paying judas to do this could arise only from the causes already mentioned, that of his not being much known, and living concealed. the idea of his concealment, not only agrees very ill with his reputed divinity, but associates with it something of pusillanimity; and his being betrayed, or in other words, his being apprehended, on the information of one of his followers, shows that he did not intend to be apprehended, and consequently that he did not intend to be crucified. the christian mythologists tell us that christ died for the sins of the world, and that he came on purpose to die. would it not then have been the same if he had died of a fever or of the small pox, of old age, or of anything else? the declaratory sentence which, they say, was passed upon adam, in case he ate of the apple, was not, that thou shalt surely be crucified, but, thou shale surely die. the sentence was death, and not the manner of dying. crucifixion, therefore, or any other particular manner of dying, made no part of the sentence that adam was to suffer, and consequently, even upon their own tactic, it could make no part of the sentence that christ was to suffer in the room of adam. a fever would have done as well as a cross, if there was any occasion for either. this sentence of death, which, they tell us, was thus passed upon adam, must either have meant dying naturally, that is, ceasing to live, or have meant what these mythologists call damnation; and consequently, the act of dying on the part of jesus christ, must, according to their system, apply as a prevention to one or other of these two things happening to adam and to us. that it does not prevent our dying is evident, because we all die; and if their accounts of longevity be true, men die faster since the crucifixion than before: and with respect to the second explanation, (including with it the natural death of jesus christ as a substitute for the eternal death or damnation of all mankind,) it is impertinently representing the creator as coming off, or revoking the sentence, by a pun or a quibble upon the word death. that manufacturer of, quibbles, st. paul, if he wrote the books that bear his name, has helped this quibble on by making another quibble upon the word adam. he makes there to be two adams; the one who sins in fact, and suffers by proxy; the other who sins by proxy, and suffers in fact. a religion thus interlarded with quibble, subterfuge, and pun, has a tendency to instruct its professors in the practice of these arts. they acquire the habit without being aware of the cause. if jesus christ was the being which those mythologists tell us he was, and that he came into this world to suffer, which is a word they sometimes use instead of 'to die,' the only real suffering he could have endured would have been 'to live.' his existence here was a state of exilement or transportation from heaven, and the way back to his original country was to die.--in fine, everything in this strange system is the reverse of what it pretends to be. it is the reverse of truth, and i become so tired of examining into its inconsistencies and absurdities, that i hasten to the conclusion of it, in order to proceed to something better. how much, or what parts of the books called the new testament, were written by the persons whose names they bear, is what we can know nothing of, neither are we certain in what language they were originally written. the matters they now contain may be classed under two heads: anecdote, and epistolary correspondence. the four books already mentioned, matthew, mark, luke, and john, are altogether anecdotal. they relate events after they had taken place. they tell what jesus christ did and said, and what others did and said to him; and in several instances they relate the same event differently. revelation is necessarily out of the question with respect to those books; not only because of the disagreement of the writers, but because revelation cannot be applied to the relating of facts by the persons who saw them done, nor to the relating or recording of any discourse or conversation by those who heard it. the book called the acts of the apostles (an anonymous work) belongs also to the anecdotal part. all the other parts of the new testament, except the book of enigmas, called the revelations, are a collection of letters under the name of epistles; and the forgery of letters has been such a common practice in the world, that the probability is at least equal, whether they are genuine or forged. one thing, however, is much less equivocal, which is, that out of the matters contained in those books, together with the assistance of some old stories, the church has set up a system of religion very contradictory to the character of the person whose name it bears. it has set up a religion of pomp and of revenue in pretended imitation of a person whose life was humility and poverty. the invention of a purgatory, and of the releasing of souls therefrom, by prayers, bought of the church with money; the selling of pardons, dispensations, and indulgences, are revenue laws, without bearing that name or carrying that appearance. but the case nevertheless is, that those things derive their origin from the proxysm of the crucifixion, and the theory deduced therefrom, which was, that one person could stand in the place of another, and could perform meritorious services for him. the probability, therefore, is, that the whole theory or doctrine of what is called the redemption (which is said to have been accomplished by the act of one person in the room of another) was originally fabricated on purpose to bring forward and build all those secondary and pecuniary redemptions upon; and that the passages in the books upon which the idea of theory of redemption is built, have been manufactured and fabricated for that purpose. why are we to give this church credit, when she tells us that those books are genuine in every part, any more than we give her credit for everything else she has told us; or for the miracles she says she has performed? that she could fabricate writings is certain, because she could write; and the composition of the writings in question, is of that kind that anybody might do it; and that she did fabricate them is not more inconsistent with probability, than that she should tell us, as she has done, that she could and did work miracles. since, then, no external evidence can, at this long distance of time, be produced to prove whether the church fabricated the doctrine called redemption or not, (for such evidence, whether for or against, would be subject to the same suspicion of being fabricated,) the case can only be referred to the internal evidence which the thing carries of itself; and this affords a very strong presumption of its being a fabrication. for the internal evidence is, that the theory or doctrine of redemption has for its basis an idea of pecuniary justice, and not that of moral justice. if i owe a person money, and cannot pay him, and he threatens to put me in prison, another person can take the debt upon himself, and pay it for me. but if i have committed a crime, every circumstance of the case is changed. moral justice cannot take the innocent for the guilty even if the innocent would offer itself. to suppose justice to do this, is to destroy the principle of its existence, which is the thing itself. it is then no longer justice. it is indiscriminate revenge. this single reflection will show that the doctrine of redemption is founded on a mere pecuniary idea corresponding to that of a debt which another person might pay; and as this pecuniary idea corresponds again with the system of second redemptions, obtained through the means of money given to the church for pardons, the probability is that the same persons fabricated both the one and the other of those theories; and that, in truth, there is no such thing as redemption; that it is fabulous; and that man stands in the same relative condition with his maker he ever did stand, since man existed; and that it is his greatest consolation to think so. let him believe this, and he will live more consistently and morally, than by any other system. it is by his being taught to contemplate himself as an out-law, as an out-cast, as a beggar, as a mumper, as one thrown as it were on a dunghill, at an immense distance from his creator, and who must make his approaches by creeping, and cringing to intermediate beings, that he conceives either a contemptuous disregard for everything under the name of religion, or becomes indifferent, or turns what he calls devout. in the latter case, he consumes his life in grief, or the affectation of it. his prayers are reproaches. his humility is ingratitude. he calls himself a worm, and the fertile earth a dunghill; and all the blessings of life by the thankless name of vanities. he despises the choicest gift of god to man, the gift of reason; and having endeavoured to force upon himself the belief of a system against which reason revolts, he ungratefully calls it human reason, as if man could give reason to himself. yet, with all this strange appearance of humility, and this contempt for human reason, he ventures into the boldest presumptions. he finds fault with everything. his selfishness is never satisfied; his ingratitude is never at an end. he takes on himself to direct the almighty what to do, even in the govemment of the universe. he prays dictatorially. when it is sunshine, he prays for rain, and when it is rain, he prays for sunshine. he follows the same idea in everything that he prays for; for what is the amount of all his prayers, but an attempt to make the almighty change his mind, and act otherwise than he does? it is as if he were to say--thou knowest not so well as i. chapter ix - in what the true revelation consists. but some perhaps will say--are we to have no word of god--no revelation? i answer yes. there is a word of god; there is a revelation. the word of god is the creation we behold: and it is in this word, which no human invention can counterfeit or alter, that god speaketh universally to man. human language is local and changeable, and is therefore incapable of being used as the means of unchangeable and universal information. the idea that god sent jesus christ to publish, as they say, the glad tidings to all nations, from one end of the earth unto the other, is consistent only with the ignorance of those who know nothing of the extent of the world, and who believed, as those world-saviours believed, and continued to believe for several centuries, (and that in contradiction to the discoveries of philosophers and the experience of navigators,) that the earth was flat like a trencher; and that a man might walk to the end of it. but how was jesus christ to make anything known to all nations? he could speak but one language, which was hebrew; and there are in the world several hundred languages. scarcely any two nations speak the same language, or understand each other; and as to translations, every man who knows anything of languages, knows that it is impossible to translate from one language into another, not only without losing a great part of the original, but frequently of mistaking the sense; and besides all this, the art of printing was wholly unknown at the time christ lived. it is always necessary that the means that are to accomplish any end be equal to the accomplishment of that end, or the end cannot be accomplished. it is in this that the difference between finite and infinite power and wisdom discovers itself. man frequently fails in accomplishing his end, from a natural inability of the power to the purpose; and frequently from the want of wisdom to apply power properly. but it is impossible for infinite power and wisdom to fail as man faileth. the means it useth are always equal to the end: but human language, more especially as there is not an universal language, is incapable of being used as an universal means of unchangeable and uniform information; and therefore it is not the means that god useth in manifesting himself universally to man. it is only in the creation that all our ideas and conceptions of a word of god can unite. the creation speaketh an universal language, independently of human speech or human language, multiplied and various as they be. it is an ever existing original, which every man can read. it cannot be forged; it cannot be counterfeited; it cannot be lost; it cannot be altered; it cannot be suppressed. it does not depend upon the will of man whether it shall be published or not; it publishes itself from one end of the earth to the other. it preaches to all nations and to all worlds; and this word of god reveals to man all that is necessary for man to know of god. do we want to contemplate his power? we see it in the immensity of the creation. do we want to contemplate his wisdom? we see it in the unchangeable order by which the incomprehensible whole is governed. do we want to contemplate his munificence? we see it in the abundance with which he fills the earth. do we want to contemplate his mercy? we see it in his not withholding that abundance even from the unthankful. in fine, do we want to know what god is? search not the book called the scripture, which any human hand might make, but the scripture called the creation. chapter x - concerning god, and the lights cast on his existence and attributes by the bible. the only idea man can affix to the name of god, is that of a first cause, the cause of all things. and, incomprehensibly difficult as it is for a man to conceive what a first cause is, he arrives at the belief of it, from the tenfold greater difficulty of disbelieving it. it is difficult beyond description to conceive that space can have no end; but it is more difficult to conceive an end. it is difficult beyond the power of man to conceive an eternal duration of what we call time; but it is more impossible to conceive a time when there shall be no time. in like manner of reasoning, everything we behold carries in itself the internal evidence that it did not make itself. every man is an evidence to himself, that he did not make himself; neither could his father make himself, nor his grandfather, nor any of his race; neither could any tree, plant, or animal make itself; and it is the conviction arising from this evidence, that carries us on, as it were, by necessity, to the belief of a first cause eternally existing, of a nature totally different to any material existence we know of, and by the power of which all things exist; and this first cause, man calls god. it is only by the exercise of reason, that man can discover god. take away that reason, and he would be incapable of understanding anything; and in this case it would be just as consistent to read even the book called the bible to a horse as to a man. how then is it that those people pretend to reject reason? almost the only parts in the book called the bible, that convey to us any idea of god, are some chapters in job, and the th psalm; i recollect no other. those parts are true deistical compositions; for they treat of the deity through his works. they take the book of creation as the word of god; they refer to no other book; and all the inferences they make are drawn from that volume. i insert in this place the th psalm, as paraphrased into english verse by addison. i recollect not the prose, and where i write this i have not the opportunity of seeing it: the spacious firmament on high, with all the blue etherial sky, and spangled heavens, a shining frame, their great original proclaim. the unwearied sun, from day to day, does his creator's power display, and publishes to every land the work of an almighty hand. soon as the evening shades prevail, the moon takes up the wondrous tale, and nightly to the list'ning earth repeats the story of her birth; whilst all the stars that round her burn, and all the planets, in their turn, confirm the tidings as they roll, and spread the truth from pole to pole. what though in solemn silence all move round this dark terrestrial ball what though no real voice, nor sound, amidst their radiant orbs be found, in reason's ear they all rejoice, and utter forth a glorious voice, forever singing as they shine, the hand that made us is divine. what more does man want to know, than that the hand or power that made these things is divine, is omnipotent? let him believe this, with the force it is impossible to repel if he permits his reason to act, and his rule of moral life will follow of course. the allusions in job have all of them the same tendency with this psalm; that of deducing or proving a truth that would be otherwise unknown, from truths already known. i recollect not enough of the passages in job to insert them correctly; but there is one that occurs to me that is applicable to the subject i am speaking upon. "canst thou by searching find out god; canst thou find out the almighty to perfection?" i know not how the printers have pointed this passage, for i keep no bible; but it contains two distinct questions that admit of distinct answers. first, canst thou by searching find out god? yes. because, in the first place, i know i did not make myself, and yet i have existence; and by searching into the nature of other things, i find that no other thing could make itself; and yet millions of other things exist; therefore it is, that i know, by positive conclusion resulting from this search, that there is a power superior to all those things, and that power is god. secondly, canst thou find out the almighty to perfection? no. not only because the power and wisdom he has manifested in the structure of the creation that i behold is to me incomprehensible; but because even this manifestation, great as it is is probably but a small display of that immensity of power and wisdom, by which millions of other worlds, to me invisible by their distance, were created and continue to exist. it is evident that both of these questions were put to the reason of the person to whom they are supposed to have been addressed; and it is only by admitting the first question to be answered affirmatively, that the second could follow. it would have been unnecessary, and even absurd, to have put a second question, more difficult than the first, if the first question had been answered negatively. the two questions have different objects; the first refers to the existence of god, the second to his attributes. reason can discover the one, but it falls infinitely short in discovering the whole of the other. i recollect not a single passage in all the writings ascribed to the men called apostles, that conveys any idea of what god is. those writings are chiefly controversial; and the gloominess of the subject they dwell upon, that of a man dying in agony on a cross, is better suited to the gloomy genius of a monk in a cell, by whom it is not impossible they were written, than to any man breathing the open air of the creation. the only passage that occurs to me, that has any reference to the works of god, by which only his power and wisdom can be known, is related to have been spoken by jesus christ, as a remedy against distrustful care. "behold the lilies of the field, they toil not, neither do they spin." this, however, is far inferior to the allusions in job and in the th psalm; but it is similar in idea, and the modesty of the imagery is correspondent to the modesty of the man. chapter xi - of the theology of the christians; and the true theology. as to the christian system of faith, it appears to me as a species of atheism; a sort of religious denial of god. it professes to believe in a man rather than in god. it is a compound made up chiefly of man-ism with but little deism, and is as near to atheism as twilight is to darkness. it introduces between man and his maker an opaque body, which it calls a redeemer, as the moon introduces her opaque self between the earth and the sun, and it produces by this means a religious or an irreligious eclipse of light. it has put the whole orbit of reason into shade. the effect of this obscurity has been that of turning everything upside down, and representing it in reverse; and among the revolutions it has thus magically produced, it has made a revolution in theology. that which is now called natural philosophy, embracing the whole circle of science, of which astronomy occupies the chief place, is the study of the works of god, and of the power and wisdom of god in his works, and is the true theology. as to the theology that is now studied in its place, it is the study of human opinions and of human fancies concerning god. it is not the study of god himself in the works that he has made, but in the works or writings that man has made; and it is not among the least of the mischiefs that the christian system has done to the world, that it has abandoned the original and beautiful system of theology, like a beautiful innocent, to distress and reproach, to make room for the hag of superstition. the book of job and the th psalm, which even the church admits to be more ancient than the chronological order in which they stand in the book called the bible, are theological orations conformable to the original system of theology. the internal evidence of those orations proves to a demonstration that the study and contemplation of the works of creation, and of the power and wisdom of god revealed and manifested in those works, made a great part of the religious devotion of the times in which they were written; and it was this devotional study and contemplation that led to the discovery of the principles upon which what are now called sciences are established; and it is to the discovery of these principles that almost all the arts that contribute to the convenience of human life owe their existence. every principal art has some science for its parent, though the person who mechanically performs the work does not always, and but very seldom, perceive the connection. it is a fraud of the christian system to call the sciences 'human inventions;' it is only the application of them that is human. every science has for its basis a system of principles as fixed and unalterable as those by which the universe is regulated and governed. man cannot make principles, he can only discover them. for example: every person who looks at an almanack sees an account when an eclipse will take place, and he sees also that it never fails to take place according to the account there given. this shows that man is acquainted with the laws by which the heavenly bodies move. but it would be something worse than ignorance, were any church on earth to say that those laws are an human invention. it would also be ignorance, or something worse, to say that the scientific principles, by the aid of which man is enabled to calculate and foreknow when an eclipse will take place, are an human invention. man cannot invent any thing that is eternal and immutable; and the scientific principles he employs for this purpose must, and are, of necessity, as eternal and immutable as the laws by which the heavenly bodies move, or they could not be used as they are to ascertain the time when, and the manner how, an eclipse will take place. the scientific principles that man employs to obtain the foreknowledge of an eclipse, or of any thing else relating to the motion of the heavenly bodies, are contained chiefly in that part of science that is called trigonometry, or the properties of a triangle, which, when applied to the study of the heavenly bodies, is called astronomy; when applied to direct the course of a ship on the ocean, it is called navigation; when applied to the construction of figures drawn by a rule and compass, it is called geometry; when applied to the construction of plans of edifices, it is called architecture; when applied to the measurement of any portion of the surface of the earth, it is called land-surveying. in fine, it is the soul of science. it is an eternal truth: it contains the mathematical demonstration of which man speaks, and the extent of its uses are unknown. it may be said, that man can make or draw a triangle, and therefore a triangle is an human invention. but the triangle, when drawn, is no other than the image of the principle: it is a delineation to the eye, and from thence to the mind, of a principle that would otherwise be imperceptible. the triangle does not make the principle, any more than a candle taken into a room that was dark, makes the chairs and tables that before were invisible. all the properties of a triangle exist independently of the figure, and existed before any triangle was drawn or thought of by man. man had no more to do in the formation of those properties or principles, than he had to do in making the laws by which the heavenly bodies move; and therefore the one must have the same divine origin as the other. in the same manner as, it may be said, that man can make a triangle, so also, may it be said, he can make the mechanical instrument called a lever. but the principle by which the lever acts, is a thing distinct from the instrument, and would exist if the instrument did not; it attaches itself to the instrument after it is made; the instrument, therefore, can act no otherwise than it does act; neither can all the efforts of human invention make it act otherwise. that which, in all such cases, man calls the effect, is no other than the principle itself rendered perceptible to the senses. since, then, man cannot make principles, from whence did he gain a knowledge of them, so as to be able to apply them, not only to things on earth, but to ascertain the motion of bodies so immensely distant from him as all the heavenly bodies are? from whence, i ask, could he gain that knowledge, but from the study of the true theology? it is the structure of the universe that has taught this knowledge to man. that structure is an ever-existing exhibition of every principle upon which every part of mathematical science is founded. the offspring of this science is mechanics; for mechanics is no other than the principles of science applied practically. the man who proportions the several parts of a mill uses the same scientific principles as if he had the power of constructing an universe, but as he cannot give to matter that invisible agency by which all the component parts of the immense machine of the universe have influence upon each other, and act in motional unison together, without any apparent contact, and to which man has given the name of attraction, gravitation, and repulsion, he supplies the place of that agency by the humble imitation of teeth and cogs. all the parts of man's microcosm must visibly touch. but could he gain a knowledge of that agency, so as to be able to apply it in practice, we might then say that another canonical book of the word of god had been discovered. if man could alter the properties of the lever, so also could he alter the properties of the triangle: for a lever (taking that sort of lever which is called a steel-yard, for the sake of explanation) forms, when in motion, a triangle. the line it descends from, (one point of that line being in the fulcrum,) the line it descends to, and the chord of the arc, which the end of the lever describes in the air, are the three sides of a triangle. the other arm of the lever describes also a triangle; and the corresponding sides of those two triangles, calculated scientifically, or measured geometrically,--and also the sines, tangents, and secants generated from the angles, and geometrically measured,--have the same proportions to each other as the different weights have that will balance each other on the lever, leaving the weight of the lever out of the case. it may also be said, that man can make a wheel and axis; that he can put wheels of different magnitudes together, and produce a mill. still the case comes back to the same point, which is, that he did not make the principle that gives the wheels those powers. this principle is as unalterable as in the former cases, or rather it is the same principle under a different appearance to the eye. the power that two wheels of different magnitudes have upon each other is in the same proportion as if the semi-diameter of the two wheels were joined together and made into that kind of lever i have described, suspended at the part where the semi-diameters join; for the two wheels, scientifically considered, are no other than the two circles generated by the motion of the compound lever. it is from the study of the true theology that all our knowledge of science is derived; and it is from that knowledge that all the arts have originated. the almighty lecturer, by displaying the principles of science in the structure of the universe, has invited man to study and to imitation. it is as if he had said to the inhabitants of this globe that we call ours, "i have made an earth for man to dwell upon, and i have rendered the starry heavens visible, to teach him science and the arts. he can now provide for his own comfort, and learn from my munificence to all, to be kind to each other." of what use is it, unless it be to teach man something, that his eye is endowed with the power of beholding, to an incomprehensible distance, an immensity of worlds revolving in the ocean of space? or of what use is it that this immensity of worlds is visible to man? what has man to do with the pleiades, with orion, with sirius, with the star he calls the north star, with the moving orbs he has named saturn, jupiter, mars, venus, and mercury, if no uses are to follow from their being visible? a less power of vision would have been sufficient for man, if the immensity he now possesses were given only to waste itself, as it were, on an immense desert of space glittering with shows. it is only by contemplating what he calls the starry heavens, as the book and school of science, that he discovers any use in their being visible to him, or any advantage resulting from his immensity of vision. but when he contemplates the subject in this light, he sees an additional motive for saying, that nothing was made in vain; for in vain would be this power of vision if it taught man nothing. chapter xii - the effects of christianism on education; proposed reforms. as the christian system of faith has made a revolution in theology, so also has it made a revolution in the state of learning. that which is now called learning, was not learning originally. learning does not consist, as the schools now make it consist, in the knowledge of languages, but in the knowledge of things to which language gives names. the greeks were a learned people, but learning with them did not consist in speaking greek, any more than in a roman's speaking latin, or a frenchman's speaking french, or an englishman's speaking english. from what we know of the greeks, it does not appear that they knew or studied any language but their own, and this was one cause of their becoming so learned; it afforded them more time to apply themselves to better studies. the schools of the greeks were schools of science and philosophy, and not of languages; and it is in the knowledge of the things that science and philosophy teach that learning consists. almost all the scientific learning that now exists, came to us from the greeks, or the people who spoke the greek language. it therefore became necessary to the people of other nations, who spoke a different language, that some among them should learn the greek language, in order that the learning the greeks had might be made known in those nations, by translating the greek books of science and philosophy into the mother tongue of each nation. the study, therefore, of the greek language (and in the same manner for the latin) was no other than the drudgery business of a linguist; and the language thus obtained, was no other than the means, or as it were the tools, employed to obtain the learning the greeks had. it made no part of the learning itself; and was so distinct from it as to make it exceedingly probable that the persons who had studied greek sufficiently to translate those works, such for instance as euclid's elements, did not understand any of the learning the works contained. as there is now nothing new to be learned from the dead languages, all the useful books being already translated, the languages are become useless, and the time expended in teaching and in learning them is wasted. so far as the study of languages may contribute to the progress and communication of knowledge (for it has nothing to do with the creation of knowledge) it is only in the living languages that new knowledge is to be found; and certain it is, that, in general, a youth will learn more of a living language in one year, than of a dead language in seven; and it is but seldom that the teacher knows much of it himself. the difficulty of learning the dead languages does not arise from any superior abstruseness in the languages themselves, but in their being dead, and the pronunciation entirely lost. it would be the same thing with any other language when it becomes dead. the best greek linguist that now exists does not understand greek so well as a grecian plowman did, or a grecian milkmaid; and the same for the latin, compared with a plowman or a milkmaid of the romans; and with respect to pronunciation and idiom, not so well as the cows that she milked. it would therefore be advantageous to the state of learning to abolish the study of the dead languages, and to make learning consist, as it originally did, in scientific knowledge. the apology that is sometimes made for continuing to teach the dead languages is, that they are taught at a time when a child is not capable of exerting any other mental faculty than that of memory. but this is altogether erroneous. the human mind has a natural disposition to scientific knowledge, and to the things connected with it. the first and favourite amusement of a child, even before it begins to play, is that of imitating the works of man. it builds bouses with cards or sticks; it navigates the little ocean of a bowl of water with a paper boat; or dams the stream of a gutter, and contrives something which it calls a mill; and it interests itself in the fate of its works with a care that resembles affection. it afterwards goes to school, where its genius is killed by the barren study of a dead language, and the philosopher is lost in the linguist. but the apology that is now made for continuing to teach the dead languages, could not be the cause at first of cutting down learning to the narrow and humble sphere of linguistry; the cause therefore must be sought for elsewhere. in all researches of this kind, the best evidence that can be produced, is the internal evidence the thing carries with itself, and the evidence of circumstances that unites with it; both of which, in this case, are not difficult to be discovered. putting then aside, as matter of distinct consideration, the outrage offered to the moral justice of god, by supposing him to make the innocent suffer for the guilty, and also the loose morality and low contrivance of supposing him to change himself into the shape of a man, in order to make an excuse to himself for not executing his supposed sentence upon adam; putting, i say, those things aside as matter of distinct consideration, it is certain that what is called the christian system of faith, including in it the whimsical account of the creation--the strange story of eve, the snake, and the apple--the amphibious idea of a man-god--the corporeal idea of the death of a god--the mythological idea of a family of gods, and the christian system of arithmetic, that three are one, and one is three, are all irreconcilable, not only to the divine gift of reason, that god has given to man, but to the knowledge that man gains of the power and wisdom of god by the aid of the sciences, and by studying the structure of the universe that god has made. the setters up, therefore, and the advocates of the christian system of faith, could not but foresee that the continually progressive knowledge that man would gain by the aid of science, of the power and wisdom of god, manifested in the structure of the universe, and in all the works of creation, would militate against, and call into question, the truth of their system of faith; and therefore it became necessary to their purpose to cut learning down to a size less dangerous to their project, and this they effected by restricting the idea of learning to the dead study of dead languages. they not only rejected the study of science out of the christian schools, but they persecuted it; and it is only within about the last two centuries that the study has been revived. so late as , galileo, a florentine, discovered and introduced the use of telescopes, and by applying them to observe the motions and appearances of the heavenly bodies, afforded additional means for ascertaining the true structure of the universe. instead of being esteemed for these discoveries, he was sentenced to renounce them, or the opinions resulting from them, as a damnable heresy. and prior to that time virgilius was condemned to be burned for asserting the antipodes, or in other words, that the earth was a globe, and habitable in every part where there was land; yet the truth of this is now too well known even to be told. [note: i cannot discover the source of this statement concerning the ancient author whose irish name feirghill was latinized into virgilius. the british museum possesses a copy of the work (decalogiunt) which was the pretext of the charge of heresy made by boniface, archbishop of mayence, against virgilius, abbot--bishop of salzburg, these were leaders of the rival "british" and "roman parties, and the british champion made a countercharge against boniface of irreligious practices." boniface had to express a "regret," but none the less pursued his rival. the pope, zachary ii., decided that if his alleged "doctrine, against god and his soul, that beneath the earth there is another world, other men, or sun and moon," should be acknowledged by virgilius, he should be excommunicated by a council and condemned with canonical sanctions. whatever may have been the fate involved by condemnation with "canonicis sanctionibus," in the middle of the eighth century, it did not fall on virgilius. his accuser, boniface, was martyred, , and it is probable that virgilius harmonied his antipodes with orthodoxy. the gravamen of the heresy seems to have been the suggestion that there were men not of the progeny of adam. virgilius was made bishop of salzburg in . he bore until his death, , the curious title, "geometer and solitary," or "lone wayfarer" (solivagus). a suspicion of heresy clung to his memory until , when he was raised by gregory ix, to sainthood beside his accuser, st. boniface.--editor. (conway)] if the belief of errors not morally bad did no mischief, it would make no part of the moral duty of man to oppose and remove them. there was no moral ill in believing the earth was flat like a trencher, any more than there was moral virtue in believing it was round like a globe; neither was there any moral ill in believing that the creator made no other world than this, any more than there was moral virtue in believing that he made millions, and that the infinity of space is filled with worlds. but when a system of religion is made to grow out of a supposed system of creation that is not true, and to unite itself therewith in a manner almost inseparable therefrom, the case assumes an entirely different ground. it is then that errors, not morally bad, become fraught with the same mischiefs as if they were. it is then that the truth, though otherwise indifferent itself, becomes an essential, by becoming the criterion that either confirms by corresponding evidence, or denies by contradictory evidence, the reality of the religion itself. in this view of the case it is the moral duty of man to obtain every possible evidence that the structure of the heavens, or any other part of creation affords, with respect to systems of religion. but this, the supporters or partizans of the christian system, as if dreading the result, incessantly opposed, and not only rejected the sciences, but persecuted the professors. had newton or descartes lived three or four hundred years ago, and pursued their studies as they did, it is most probable they would not have lived to finish them; and had franklin drawn lightning from the clouds at the same time, it would have been at the hazard of expiring for it in flames. later times have laid all the blame upon the goths and vandals, but, however unwilling the partizans of the christian system may be to believe or to acknowledge it, it is nevertheless true, that the age of ignorance commenced with the christian system. there was more knowledge in the world before that period, than for many centuries afterwards; and as to religious knowledge, the christian system, as already said, was only another species of mythology; and the mythology to which it succeeded, was a corruption of an ancient system of theism. [note by paine: it is impossible for us now to know at what time the heathen mythology began; but it is certain, from the internal evidence that it carries, that it did not begin in the same state or condition in which it ended. all the gods of that mythology, except saturn, were of modern invention. the supposed reign of saturn was prior to that which is called the heathen mythology, and was so far a species of theism that it admitted the belief of only one god. saturn is supposed to have abdicated the govemment in favour of his three sons and one daughter, jupiter, pluto, neptune, and juno; after this, thousands of other gods and demigods were imaginarily created, and the calendar of gods increased as fast as the calendar of saints and the calendar of courts have increased since. all the corruptions that have taken place, in theology and in religion have been produced by admitting of what man calls 'revealed religion.' the mythologists pretended to more revealed religion than the christians do. they had their oracles and their priests, who were supposed to receive and deliver the word of god verbally on almost all occasions. since then all corruptions down from moloch to modern predestinarianism, and the human sacrifices of the heathens to the christian sacrifice of the creator, have been produced by admitting of what is called revealed religion, the most effectual means to prevent all such evils and impositions is, not to admit of any other revelation than that which is manifested in the book of creation., and to contemplate the creation as the only true and real word of god that ever did or ever will exist; and every thing else called the word of god is fable and imposition.--author.] it is owing to this long interregnum of science, and to no other cause, that we have now to look back through a vast chasm of many hundred years to the respectable characters we call the ancients. had the progression of knowledge gone on proportionably with the stock that before existed, that chasm would have been filled up with characters rising superior in knowledge to each other; and those ancients we now so much admire would have appeared respectably in the background of the scene. but the christian system laid all waste; and if we take our stand about the beginning of the sixteenth century, we look back through that long chasm, to the times of the ancients, as over a vast sandy desert, in which not a shrub appears to intercept the vision to the fertile hills beyond. it is an inconsistency scarcely possible to be credited, that any thing should exist, under the name of a religion, that held it to be irreligious to study and contemplate the structure of the universe that god had made. but the fact is too well established to be denied. the event that served more than any other to break the first link in this long chain of despotic ignorance, is that known by the name of the reformation by luther. from that time, though it does not appear to have made any part of the intention of luther, or of those who are called reformers, the sciences began to revive, and liberality, their natural associate, began to appear. this was the only public good the reformation did; for, with respect to religious good, it might as well not have taken place. the mythology still continued the same; and a multiplicity of national popes grew out of the downfall of the pope of christendom. chapter xiii - comparison of christianism with the religious ideas inspired by nature. having thus shewn, from the internal evidence of things, the cause that produced a change in the state of learning, and the motive for substituting the study of the dead languages, in the place of the sciences, i proceed, in addition to the several observations already made in the former part of this work, to compare, or rather to confront, the evidence that the structure of the universe affords, with the christian system of religion. but as i cannot begin this part better than by referring to the ideas that occurred to me at an early part of life, and which i doubt not have occurred in some degree to almost every other person at one time or other, i shall state what those ideas were, and add thereto such other matter as shall arise out of the subject, giving to the whole, by way of preface, a short introduction. my father being of the quaker profession, it was my good fortune to have an exceedingly good moral education, and a tolerable stock of useful learning. though i went to the grammar school, i did not learn latin, not only because i had no inclination to learn languages, but because of the objection the quakers have against the books in which the language is taught. but this did not prevent me from being acquainted with the subjects of all the latin books used in the school. the natural bent of my mind was to science. i had some turn, and i believe some talent for poetry; but this i rather repressed than encouraged, as leading too much into the field of imagination. as soon as i was able, i purchased a pair of globes, and attended the philosophical lectures of martin and ferguson, and became afterwards acquainted with dr. bevis, of the society called the royal society, then living in the temple, and an excellent astronomer. i had no disposition for what was called politics. it presented to my mind no other idea than is contained in the word jockeyship. when, therefore, i turned my thoughts towards matters of government, i had to form a system for myself, that accorded with the moral and philosophic principles in which i had been educated. i saw, or at least i thought i saw, a vast scene opening itself to the world in the affairs of america; and it appeared to me, that unless the americans changed the plan they were then pursuing, with respect to the government of england, and declared themselves independent, they would not only involve themselves in a multiplicity of new difficulties, but shut out the prospect that was then offering itself to mankind through their means. it was from these motives that i published the work known by the name of common sense, which is the first work i ever did publish, and so far as i can judge of myself, i believe i should never have been known in the world as an author on any subject whatever, had it not been for the affairs of america. i wrote common sense the latter end of the year , and published it the first of january, . independence was declared the fourth of july following. [note: the pamphlet common sense was first advertised, as "just published," on january , . his plea for the officers of excise, written before leaving england, was printed, but not published until . despite his reiterated assertion that common sense was the first work he ever published the notion that he was "junius" still finds some believers. an indirect comment on our paine-junians may be found in part of this work where paine says a man capable of writing homer "would not have thrown away his own fame by giving it to another." it is probable that paine ascribed the letters of junius to thomas hollis. his friend f. lanthenas, in his translation of the age of reason ( ) advertises his translation of the letters of junius from the english "(thomas hollis)." this he could hardly have done without consultation with paine. unfortunately this translation of junius cannot be found either in the bibliotheque nationale or the british museum, and it cannot be said whether it contains any attempt at an identification of junius--editor.] any person, who has made observations on the state and progress of the human mind, by observing his own, can not but have observed, that there are two distinct classes of what are called thoughts; those that we produce in ourselves by reflection and the act of thinking, and those that bolt into the mind of their own accord. i have always made it a rule to treat those voluntary visitors with civility, taking care to examine, as well as i was able, if they were worth entertaining; and it is from them i have acquired almost all the knowledge that i have. as to the learning that any person gains from school education, it serves only, like a small capital, to put him in the way of beginning learning for himself afterwards. every person of learning is finally his own teacher; the reason of which is, that principles, being of a distinct quality to circumstances, cannot be impressed upon the memory; their place of mental residence is the understanding, and they are never so lasting as when they begin by conception. thus much for the introductory part. from the time i was capable of conceiving an idea, and acting upon it by reflection, i either doubted the truth of the christian system, or thought it to be a strange affair; i scarcely knew which it was: but i well remember, when about seven or eight years of age, hearing a sermon read by a relation of mine, who was a great devotee of the church, upon the subject of what is called redemption by the death of the son of god. after the sermon was ended, i went into the garden, and as i was going down the garden steps (for i perfectly recollect the spot) i revolted at the recollection of what i had heard, and thought to myself that it was making god almighty act like a passionate man, that killed his son, when he could not revenge himself any other way; and as i was sure a man would be hanged that did such a thing, i could not see for what purpose they preached such sermons. this was not one of those kind of thoughts that had any thing in it of childish levity; it was to me a serious reflection, arising from the idea i had that god was too good to do such an action, and also too almighty to be under any necessity of doing it. i believe in the same manner to this moment; and i moreover believe, that any system of religion that has anything in it that shocks the mind of a child, cannot be a true system. it seems as if parents of the christian profession were ashamed to tell their children any thing about the principles of their religion. they sometimes instruct them in morals, and talk to them of the goodness of what they call providence; for the christian mythology has five deities: there is god the father, god the son, god the holy ghost, the god providence, and the goddess nature. but the christian story of god the father putting his son to death, or employing people to do it, (for that is the plain language of the story,) cannot be told by a parent to a child; and to tell him that it was done to make mankind happier and better, is making the story still worse; as if mankind could be improved by the example of murder; and to tell him that all this is a mystery, is only making an excuse for the incredibility of it. how different is this to the pure and simple profession of deism! the true deist has but one deity; and his religion consists in contemplating the power, wisdom, and benignity of the deity in his works, and in endeavouring to imitate him in every thing moral, scientifical, and mechanical. the religion that approaches the nearest of all others to true deism, in the moral and benign part thereof, is that professed by the quakers: but they have contracted themselves too much by leaving the works of god out of their system. though i reverence their philanthropy, i can not help smiling at the conceit, that if the taste of a quaker could have been consulted at the creation, what a silent and drab-colored creation it would have been! not a flower would have blossomed its gaieties, nor a bird been permitted to sing. quitting these reflections, i proceed to other matters. after i had made myself master of the use of the globes, and of the orrery, [note by paine: as this book may fall into the bands of persons who do not know what an orrery is, it is for their information i add this note, as the name gives no idea of the uses of the thing. the orrery has its name from the person who invented it. it is a machinery of clock-work, representing the universe in miniature: and in which the revolution of the earth round itself and round the sun, the revolution of the moon round the earth, the revolution of the planets round the sun, their relative distances from the sun, as the center of the whole system, their relative distances from each other, and their different magnitudes, are represented as they really exist in what we call the heavens.--author.] and conceived an idea of the infinity of space, and of the eternal divisibility of matter, and obtained, at least, a general knowledge of what was called natural philosophy, i began to compare, or, as i have before said, to confront, the internal evidence those things afford with the christian system of faith. though it is not a direct article of the christian system that this world that we inhabit is the whole of the habitable creation, yet it is so worked up therewith, from what is called the mosaic account of the creation, the story of eve and the apple, and the counterpart of that story, the death of the son of god, that to believe otherwise, that is, to believe that god created a plurality of worlds, at least as numerous as what we call stars, renders the christian system of faith at once little and ridiculous; and scatters it in the mind like feathers in the air. the two beliefs can not be held together in the same mind; and he who thinks that he believes both, has thought but little of either. though the belief of a plurality of worlds was familiar to the ancients, it is only within the last three centuries that the extent and dimensions of this globe that we inhabit have been ascertained. several vessels, following the tract of the ocean, have sailed entirely round the world, as a man may march in a circle, and come round by the contrary side of the circle to the spot he set out from. the circular dimensions of our world, in the widest part, as a man would measure the widest round of an apple, or a ball, is only twenty-five thousand and twenty english miles, reckoning sixty-nine miles and an half to an equatorial degree, and may be sailed round in the space of about three years. [note by paine: allowing a ship to sail, on an average, three miles in an hour, she would sail entirely round the world in less than one year, if she could sail in a direct circle, but she is obliged to follow the course of the ocean.--author.] a world of this extent may, at first thought, appear to us to be great; but if we compare it with the immensity of space in which it is suspended, like a bubble or a balloon in the air, it is infinitely less in proportion than the smallest grain of sand is to the size of the world, or the finest particle of dew to the whole ocean, and is therefore but small; and, as will be hereafter shown, is only one of a system of worlds, of which the universal creation is composed. it is not difficult to gain some faint idea of the immensity of space in which this and all the other worlds are suspended, if we follow a progression of ideas. when we think of the size or dimensions of, a room, our ideas limit themselves to the walls, and there they stop. but when our eye, or our imagination darts into space, that is, when it looks upward into what we call the open air, we cannot conceive any walls or boundaries it can have; and if for the sake of resting our ideas we suppose a boundary, the question immediately renews itself, and asks, what is beyond that boundary? and in the same manner, what beyond the next boundary? and so on till the fatigued imagination returns and says, there is no end. certainly, then, the creator was not pent for room when he made this world no larger than it is; and we have to seek the reason in something else. if we take a survey of our own world, or rather of this, of which the creator has given us the use as our portion in the immense system of creation, we find every part of it, the earth, the waters, and the air that surround it, filled, and as it were crowded with life, down from the largest animals that we know of to the smallest insects the naked eye can behold, and from thence to others still smaller, and totally invisible without the assistance of the microscope. every tree, every plant, every leaf, serves not only as an habitation, but as a world to some numerous race, till animal existence becomes so exceedingly refined, that the effluvia of a blade of grass would be food for thousands. since then no part of our earth is left unoccupied, why is it to be supposed that the immensity of space is a naked void, lying in eternal waste? there is room for millions of worlds as large or larger than ours, and each of them millions of miles apart from each other. having now arrived at this point, if we carry our ideas only one thought further, we shall see, perhaps, the true reason, at least a very good reason for our happiness, why the creator, instead of making one immense world, extending over an immense quantity of space, has preferred dividing that quantity of matter into several distinct and separate worlds, which we call planets, of which our earth is one. but before i explain my ideas upon this subject, it is necessary (not for the sake of those that already know, but for those who do not) to show what the system of the universe is. chapter xiv - system of the universe. that part of the universe that is called the solar system (meaning the system of worlds to which our earth belongs, and of which sol, or in english language, the sun, is the center) consists, besides the sun, of six distinct orbs, or planets, or worlds, besides the secondary bodies, called the satellites, or moons, of which our earth has one that attends her in her annual revolution round the sun, in like manner as the other satellites or moons, attend the planets or worlds to which they severally belong, as may be seen by the assistance of the telescope. the sun is the center round which those six worlds or planets revolve at different distances therefrom, and in circles concentric to each other. each world keeps constantly in nearly the same tract round the sun, and continues at the same time turning round itself, in nearly an upright position, as a top turns round itself when it is spinning on the ground, and leans a little sideways. it is this leaning of the earth ( / degrees) that occasions summer and winter, and the different length of days and nights. if the earth turned round itself in a position perpendicular to the plane or level of the circle it moves in round the sun, as a top turns round when it stands erect on the ground, the days and nights would be always of the same length, twelve hours day and twelve hours night, and the season would be uniformly the same throughout the year. every time that a planet (our earth for example) turns round itself, it makes what we call day and night; and every time it goes entirely round the sun, it makes what we call a year, consequently our world turns three hundred and sixty-five times round itself, in going once round the sun. the names that the ancients gave to those six worlds, and which are still called by the same names, are mercury, venus, this world that we call ours, mars, jupiter, and saturn. they appear larger to the eye than the stars, being many million miles nearer to our earth than any of the stars are. the planet venus is that which is called the evening star, and sometimes the morning star, as she happens to set after, or rise before the sun, which in either case is never more than three hours. the sun as before said being the center, the planet or world nearest the sun is mercury; his distance from the sun is thirty-four million miles, and he moves round in a circle always at that distance from the sun, as a top may be supposed to spin round in the tract in which a horse goes in a mill. the second world is venus; she is fifty-seven million miles distant from the sun, and consequently moves round in a circle much greater than that of mercury. the third world is this that we inhabit, and which is eighty-eight million miles distant from the sun, and consequently moves round in a circle greater than that of venus. the fourth world is mars; he is distant from the sun one hundred and thirty-four million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle greater than that of our earth. the fifth is jupiter; he is distant from the sun five hundred and fifty-seven million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle greater than that of mars. the sixth world is saturn; he is distant from the sun seven hundred and sixty-three million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle that surrounds the circles or orbits of all the other worlds or planets. the space, therefore, in the air, or in the immensity of space, that our solar system takes up for the several worlds to perform their revolutions in round the sun, is of the extent in a strait line of the whole diameter of the orbit or circle in which saturn moves round the sun, which being double his distance from the sun, is fifteen hundred and twenty-six million miles; and its circular extent is nearly five thousand million; and its globical content is almost three thousand five hundred million times three thousand five hundred million square miles. [note by paine: if it should be asked, how can man know these things? i have one plain answer to give, which is, that man knows how to calculate an eclipse, and also how to calculate to a minute of time when the planet venus, in making her revolutions round the sun, will come in a strait line between our earth and the sun, and will appear to us about the size of a large pea passing across the face of the sun. this happens but twice in about a hundred years, at the distance of about eight years from each other, and has happened twice in our time, both of which were foreknown by calculation. it can also be known when they will happen again for a thousand years to come, or to any other portion of time. as therefore, man could not be able to do these things if he did not understand the solar system, and the manner in which the revolutions of the several planets or worlds are performed, the fact of calculating an eclipse, or a transit of venus, is a proof in point that the knowledge exists; and as to a few thousand, or even a few million miles, more or less, it makes scarcely any sensible difference in such immense distances.--author.] but this, immense as it is, is only one system of worlds. beyond this, at a vast distance into space, far beyond all power of calculation, are the stars called the fixed stars. they are called fixed, because they have no revolutionary motion, as the six worlds or planets have that i have been describing. those fixed stars continue always at the same distance from each other, and always in the same place, as the sun does in the center of our system. the probability, therefore, is that each of those fixed stars is also a sun, round which another system of worlds or planets, though too remote for us to discover, performs its revolutions, as our system of worlds does round our central sun. by this easy progression of ideas, the immensity of space will appear to us to be filled with systems of worlds; and that no part of space lies at waste, any more than any part of our globe of earth and water is left unoccupied. having thus endeavoured to convey, in a familiar and easy manner, some idea of the structure of the universe, i return to explain what i before alluded to, namely, the great benefits arising to man in consequence of the creator having made a plurality of worlds, such as our system is, consisting of a central sun and six worlds, besides satellites, in preference to that of creating one world only of a vast extent. chapter xv - advantages of the existence of many worlds in each solar system. it is an idea i have never lost sight of, that all our knowledge of science is derived from the revolutions (exhibited to our eye and from thence to our understanding) which those several planets or worlds of which our system is composed make in their circuit round the sun. had then the quantity of matter which these six worlds contain been blended into one solitary globe, the consequence to us would have been, that either no revolutionary motion would have existed, or not a sufficiency of it to give us the ideas and the knowledge of science we now have; and it is from the sciences that all the mechanical arts that contribute so much to our earthly felicity and comfort are derived. as therefore the creator made nothing in vain, so also must it be believed that he organized the structure of the universe in the most advantageous manner for the benefit of man; and as we see, and from experience feel, the benefits we derive from the structure of the universe, formed as it is, which benefits we should not have had the opportunity of enjoying if the structure, so far as relates to our system, had been a solitary globe, we can discover at least one reason why a plurality of worlds has been made, and that reason calls forth the devotional gratitude of man, as well as his admiration. but it is not to us, the inhabitants of this globe, only, that the benefits arising from a plurality of worlds are limited. the inhabitants of each of the worlds of which our system is composed, enjoy the same opportunities of knowledge as we do. they behold the revolutionary motions of our earth, as we behold theirs. all the planets revolve in sight of each other; and, therefore, the same universal school of science presents itself to all. neither does the knowledge stop here. the system of worlds next to us exhibits, in its revolutions, the same principles and school of science, to the inhabitants of their system, as our system does to us, and in like manner throughout the immensity of space. our ideas, not only of the almightiness of the creator, but of his wisdom and his beneficence, become enlarged in proportion as we contemplate the extent and the structure of the universe. the solitary idea of a solitary world, rolling or at rest in the immense ocean of space, gives place to the cheerful idea of a society of worlds, so happily contrived as to administer, even by their motion, instruction to man. we see our own earth filled with abundance; but we forget to consider how much of that abundance is owing to the scientific knowledge the vast machinery of the universe has unfolded. chapter xvi - application of the preceding to the system of the christians. but, in the midst of those reflections, what are we to think of the christian system of faith that forms itself upon the idea of only one world, and that of no greater extent, as is before shown, than twenty-five thousand miles. an extent which a man, walking at the rate of three miles an hour for twelve hours in the day, could he keep on in a circular direction, would walk entirely round in less than two years. alas! what is this to the mighty ocean of space, and the almighty power of the creator! from whence then could arise the solitary and strange conceit that the almighty, who had millions of worlds equally dependent on his protection, should quit the care of all the rest, and come to die in our world, because, they say, one man and one woman had eaten an apple! and, on the other hand, are we to suppose that every world in the boundless creation had an eve, an apple, a serpent, and a redeemer? in this case, the person who is irreverently called the son of god, and sometimes god himself, would have nothing else to do than to travel from world to world, in an endless succession of death, with scarcely a momentary interval of life. it has been by rejecting the evidence, that the word, or works of god in the creation, affords to our senses, and the action of our reason upon that evidence, that so many wild and whimsical systems of faith, and of religion, have been fabricated and set up. there may be many systems of religion that so far from being morally bad are in many respects morally good: but there can be but one that is true; and that one necessarily must, as it ever will, be in all things consistent with the ever existing word of god that we behold in his works. but such is the strange construction of the christian system of faith, that every evidence the heavens affords to man, either directly contradicts it or renders it absurd. it is possible to believe, and i always feel pleasure in encouraging myself to believe it, that there have been men in the world who persuaded themselves that what is called a pious fraud, might, at least under particular circumstances, be productive of some good. but the fraud being once established, could not afterwards be explained; for it is with a pious fraud as with a bad action, it begets a calamitous necessity of going on. the persons who first preached the christian system of faith, and in some measure combined with it the morality preached by jesus christ, might persuade themselves that it was better than the heathen mythology that then prevailed. from the first preachers the fraud went on to the second, and to the third, till the idea of its being a pious fraud became lost in the belief of its being true; and that belief became again encouraged by the interest of those who made a livelihood by preaching it. but though such a belief might, by such means, be rendered almost general among the laity, it is next to impossible to account for the continual persecution carried on by the church, for several hundred years, against the sciences, and against the professors of science, if the church had not some record or tradition that it was originally no other than a pious fraud, or did not foresee that it could not be maintained against the evidence that the structure of the universe afforded. chapter xvii - of the means employed in all time, and almost universally, to deceive the peoples. having thus shown the irreconcileable inconsistencies between the real word of god existing in the universe, and that which is called the word of god, as shown to us in a printed book that any man might make, i proceed to speak of the three principal means that have been employed in all ages, and perhaps in all countries, to impose upon mankind. those three means are mystery, miracle, and prophecy, the first two are incompatible with true religion, and the third ought always to be suspected. with respect to mystery, everything we behold is, in one sense, a mystery to us. our own existence is a mystery: the whole vegetable world is a mystery. we cannot account how it is that an acorn, when put into the ground, is made to develop itself and become an oak. we know not how it is that the seed we sow unfolds and multiplies itself, and returns to us such an abundant interest for so small a capital. the fact however, as distinct from the operating cause, is not a mystery, because we see it; and we know also the means we are to use, which is no other than putting the seed in the ground. we know, therefore, as much as is necessary for us to know; and that part of the operation that we do not know, and which if we did, we could not perform, the creator takes upon himself and performs it for us. we are, therefore, better off than if we had been let into the secret, and left to do it for ourselves. but though every created thing is, in this sense, a mystery, the word mystery cannot be applied to moral truth, any more than obscurity can be applied to light. the god in whom we believe is a god of moral truth, and not a god of mystery or obscurity. mystery is the antagonist of truth. it is a fog of human invention that obscures truth, and represents it in distortion. truth never envelops itself in mystery; and the mystery in which it is at any time enveloped, is the work of its antagonist, and never of itself. religion, therefore, being the belief of a god, and the practice of moral truth, cannot have connection with mystery. the belief of a god, so far from having any thing of mystery in it, is of all beliefs the most easy, because it arises to us, as is before observed, out of necessity. and the practice of moral truth, or, in other words, a practical imitation of the moral goodness of god, is no other than our acting towards each other as he acts benignly towards all. we cannot serve god in the manner we serve those who cannot do without such service; and, therefore, the only idea we can have of serving god, is that of contributing to the happiness of the living creation that god has made. this cannot be done by retiring ourselves from the society of the world, and spending a recluse life in selfish devotion. the very nature and design of religion, if i may so express it, prove even to demonstration that it must be free from every thing of mystery, and unincumbered with every thing that is mysterious. religion, considered as a duty, is incumbent upon every living soul alike, and, therefore, must be on a level to the understanding and comprehension of all. man does not learn religion as he learns the secrets and mysteries of a trade. he learns the theory of religion by reflection. it arises out of the action of his own mind upon the things which he sees, or upon what he may happen to hear or to read, and the practice joins itself thereto. when men, whether from policy or pious fraud, set up systems of religion incompatible with the word or works of god in the creation, and not only above but repugnant to human comprehension, they were under the necessity of inventing or adopting a word that should serve as a bar to all questions, inquiries and speculations. the word mystery answered this purpose, and thus it has happened that religion, which is in itself without mystery, has been corrupted into a fog of mysteries. as mystery answered all general purposes, miracle followed as an occasional auxiliary. the former served to bewilder the mind, the latter to puzzle the senses. the one was the lingo, the other the legerdemain. but before going further into this subject, it will be proper to inquire what is to be understood by a miracle. in the same sense that every thing may be said to be a mystery, so also may it be said that every thing is a miracle, and that no one thing is a greater miracle than another. the elephant, though larger, is not a greater miracle than a mite: nor a mountain a greater miracle than an atom. to an almighty power it is no more difficult to make the one than the other, and no more difficult to make a million of worlds than to make one. every thing, therefore, is a miracle, in one sense; whilst, in the other sense, there is no such thing as a miracle. it is a miracle when compared to our power, and to our comprehension. it is not a miracle compared to the power that performs it. but as nothing in this description conveys the idea that is affixed to the word miracle, it is necessary to carry the inquiry further. mankind have conceived to themselves certain laws, by which what they call nature is supposed to act; and that a miracle is something contrary to the operation and effect of those laws. but unless we know the whole extent of those laws, and of what are commonly called the powers of nature, we are not able to judge whether any thing that may appear to us wonderful or miraculous, be within, or be beyond, or be contrary to, her natural power of acting. the ascension of a man several miles high into the air, would have everything in it that constitutes the idea of a miracle, if it were not known that a species of air can be generated several times lighter than the common atmospheric air, and yet possess elasticity enough to prevent the balloon, in which that light air is inclosed, from being compressed into as many times less bulk, by the common air that surrounds it. in like manner, extracting flashes or sparks of fire from the human body, as visibly as from a steel struck with a flint, and causing iron or steel to move without any visible agent, would also give the idea of a miracle, if we were not acquainted with electricity and magnetism; so also would many other experiments in natural philosophy, to those who are not acquainted with the subject. the restoring persons to life who are to appearance dead as is practised upon drowned persons, would also be a miracle, if it were not known that animation is capable of being suspended without being extinct. besides these, there are performances by slight of hand, and by persons acting in concert, that have a miraculous appearance, which, when known, are thought nothing of. and, besides these, there are mechanical and optical deceptions. there is now an exhibition in paris of ghosts or spectres, which, though it is not imposed upon the spectators as a fact, has an astonishing appearance. as, therefore, we know not the extent to which either nature or art can go, there is no criterion to determine what a miracle is; and mankind, in giving credit to appearances, under the idea of their being miracles, are subject to be continually imposed upon. since then appearances are so capable of deceiving, and things not real have a strong resemblance to things that are, nothing can be more inconsistent than to suppose that the almighty would make use of means, such as are called miracles, that would subject the person who performed them to the suspicion of being an impostor, and the person who related them to be suspected of lying, and the doctrine intended to be supported thereby to be suspected as a fabulous invention. of all the modes of evidence that ever were invented to obtain belief to any system or opinion to which the name of religion has been given, that of miracle, however successful the imposition may have been, is the most inconsistent. for, in the first place, whenever recourse is had to show, for the purpose of procuring that belief (for a miracle, under any idea of the word, is a show) it implies a lameness or weakness in the doctrine that is preached. and, in the second place, it is degrading the almighty into the character of a show-man, playing tricks to amuse and make the people stare and wonder. it is also the most equivocal sort of evidence that can be set up; for the belief is not to depend upon the thing called a miracle, but upon the credit of the reporter, who says that he saw it; and, therefore, the thing, were it true, would have no better chance of being believed than if it were a lie. suppose i were to say, that when i sat down to write this book, a hand presented itself in the air, took up the pen and wrote every word that is herein written; would any body believe me? certainly they would not. would they believe me a whit the more if the thing had been a fact? certainly they would not. since then a real miracle, were it to happen, would be subject to the same fate as the falsehood, the inconsistency becomes the greater of supposing the almighty would make use of means that would not answer the purpose for which they were intended, even if they were real. if we are to suppose a miracle to be something so entirely out of the course of what is called nature, that she must go out of that course to accomplish it, and we see an account given of such a miracle by the person who said he saw it, it raises a question in the mind very easily decided, which is,--is it more probable that nature should go out of her course, or that a man should tell a lie? we have never seen, in our time, nature go out of her course; but we have good reason to believe that millions of lies have been told in the same time; it is, therefore, at least millions to one, that the reporter of a miracle tells a lie. the story of the whale swallowing jonah, though a whale is large enough to do it, borders greatly on the marvellous; but it would have approached nearer to the idea of a miracle, if jonah had swallowed the whale. in this, which may serve for all cases of miracles, the matter would decide itself as before stated, namely, is it more probable that a man should have, swallowed a whale, or told a lie? but suppose that jonah had really swallowed the whale, and gone with it in his belly to nineveh, and to convince the people that it was true have cast it up in their sight, of the full length and size of a whale, would they not have believed him to have been the devil instead of a prophet? or if the whale had carried jonah to nineveh, and cast him up in the same public manner, would they not have believed the whale to have been the devil, and jonah one of his imps? the most extraordinary of all the things called miracles, related in the new testament, is that of the devil flying away with jesus christ, and carrying him to the top of a high mountain; and to the top of the highest pinnacle of the temple, and showing him and promising to him all the kingdoms of the world. how happened it that he did not discover america? or is it only with kingdoms that his sooty highness has any interest. i have too much respect for the moral character of christ to believe that he told this whale of a miracle himself: neither is it easy to account for what purpose it could have been fabricated, unless it were to impose upon the connoisseurs of miracles, as is sometimes practised upon the connoisseurs of queen anne's farthings, and collectors of relics and antiquities; or to render the belief of miracles ridiculous, by outdoing miracle, as don quixote outdid chivalry; or to embarrass the belief of miracles, by making it doubtful by what power, whether of god or of the devil, any thing called a miracle was performed. it requires, however, a great deal of faith in the devil to believe this miracle. in every point of view in which those things called miracles can be placed and considered, the reality of them is improbable, and their existence unnecessary. they would not, as before observed, answer any useful purpose, even if they were true; for it is more difficult to obtain belief to a miracle, than to a principle evidently moral, without any miracle. moral principle speaks universally for itself. miracle could be but a thing of the moment, and seen but by a few; after this it requires a transfer of faith from god to man to believe a miracle upon man's report. instead, therefore, of admitting the recitals of miracles as evidence of any system of religion being true, they ought to be considered as symptoms of its being fabulous. it is necessary to the full and upright character of truth that it rejects the crutch; and it is consistent with the character of fable to seek the aid that truth rejects. thus much for mystery and miracle. as mystery and miracle took charge of the past and the present, prophecy took charge of the future, and rounded the tenses of faith. it was not sufficient to know what had been done, but what would be done. the supposed prophet was the supposed historian of times to come; and if he happened, in shooting with a long bow of a thousand years, to strike within a thousand miles of a mark, the ingenuity of posterity could make it point-blank; and if he happened to be directly wrong, it was only to suppose, as in the case of jonah and nineveh, that god had repented himself and changed his mind. what a fool do fabulous systems make of man! it has been shewn, in a former part of this work, that the original meaning of the words prophet and prophesying has been changed, and that a prophet, in the sense of the word as now used, is a creature of modern invention; and it is owing to this change in the meaning of the words, that the flights and metaphors of the jewish poets, and phrases and expressions now rendered obscure by our not being acquainted with the local circumstances to which they applied at the time they were used, have been erected into prophecies, and made to bend to explanations at the will and whimsical conceits of sectaries, expounders, and commentators. every thing unintelligible was prophetical, and every thing insignificant was typical. a blunder would have served for a prophecy; and a dish-clout for a type. if by a prophet we are to suppose a man to whom the almighty communicated some event that would take place in future, either there were such men, or there were not. if there were, it is consistent to believe that the event so communicated would be told in terms that could be understood, and not related in such a loose and obscure manner as to be out of the comprehension of those that heard it, and so equivocal as to fit almost any circumstance that might happen afterwards. it is conceiving very irreverently of the almighty, to suppose he would deal in this jesting manner with mankind; yet all the things called prophecies in the book called the bible come under this description. but it is with prophecy as it is with miracle. it could not answer the purpose even if it were real. those to whom a prophecy should be told could not tell whether the man prophesied or lied, or whether it had been revealed to him, or whether he conceited it; and if the thing that he prophesied, or pretended to prophesy, should happen, or some thing like it, among the multitude of things that are daily happening, nobody could again know whether he foreknew it, or guessed at it, or whether it was accidental. a prophet, therefore, is a character useless and unnecessary; and the safe side of the case is to guard against being imposed upon, by not giving credit to such relations. upon the whole, mystery, miracle, and prophecy, are appendages that belong to fabulous and not to true religion. they are the means by which so many lo heres! and lo theres! have been spread about the world, and religion been made into a trade. the success of one impostor gave encouragement to another, and the quieting salvo of doing some good by keeping up a pious fraud protected them from remorse. recapitulation. having now extended the subject to a greater length than i first intended, i shall bring it to a close by abstracting a summary from the whole. first, that the idea or belief of a word of god existing in print, or in writing, or in speech, is inconsistent in itself for the reasons already assigned. these reasons, among many others, are the want of an universal language; the mutability of language; the errors to which translations are subject, the possibility of totally suppressing such a word; the probability of altering it, or of fabricating the whole, and imposing it upon the world. secondly, that the creation we behold is the real and ever existing word of god, in which we cannot be deceived. it proclaimeth his power, it demonstrates his wisdom, it manifests his goodness and beneficence. thirdly, that the moral duty of man consists in imitating the moral goodness and beneficence of god manifested in the creation towards all his creatures. that seeing as we daily do the goodness of god to all men, it is an example calling upon all men to practise the same towards each other; and, consequently, that every thing of persecution and revenge between man and man, and every thing of cruelty to animals, is a violation of moral duty. i trouble not myself about the manner of future existence. i content myself with believing, even to positive conviction, that the power that gave me existence is able to continue it, in any form and manner he pleases, either with or without this body; and it appears more probable to me that i shall continue to exist hereafter than that i should have had existence, as i now have, before that existence began. it is certain that, in one point, all nations of the earth and all religions agree. all believe in a god. the things in which they disgrace are the redundancies annexed to that belief; and therefore, if ever an universal religion should prevail, it will not be believing any thing new, but in getting rid of redundancies, and believing as man believed at first. ["in the childhood of the world," according to the first (french) version; and the strict translation of the final sentence is: "deism was the religion of adam, supposing him not an imaginary being; but none the less must it be left to all men to follow, as is their right, the religion and worship they prefer."--editor.] adam, if ever there was such a man, was created a deist; but in the mean time, let every man follow, as he has a right to do, the religion and worship he prefers. end of part i the age of reason - part ii contents * preface * chapter i - the old testament * chapter ii - the new testament * chapter iii - conclusion preface i have mentioned in the former part of the age of reason that it had long been my intention to publish my thoughts upon religion; but that i had originally reserved it to a later period in life, intending it to be the last work i should undertake. the circumstances, however, which existed in france in the latter end of the year , determined me to delay it no longer. the just and humane principles of the revolution which philosophy had first diffused, had been departed from. the idea, always dangerous to society as it is derogatory to the almighty,--that priests could forgive sins,--though it seemed to exist no longer, had blunted the feelings of humanity, and callously prepared men for the commission of all crimes. the intolerant spirit of church persecution had transferred itself into politics; the tribunals, stiled revolutionary, supplied the place of an inquisition; and the guillotine of the stake. i saw many of my most intimate friends destroyed; others daily carried to prison; and i had reason to believe, and had also intimations given me, that the same danger was approaching myself. under these disadvantages, i began the former part of the age of reason; i had, besides, neither bible nor testament [it must be borne in mind that throughout this work paine generally means by "bible" only the old testament, and speaks of the new as the "testament."--editor.] to refer to, though i was writing against both; nor could i procure any; notwithstanding which i have produced a work that no bible believer, though writing at his ease and with a library of church books about him, can refute. towards the latter end of december of that year, a motion was made and carried, to exclude foreigners from the convention. there were but two, anacharsis cloots and myself; and i saw i was particularly pointed at by bourdon de l'oise, in his speech on that motion. conceiving, after this, that i had but a few days of liberty, i sat down and brought the work to a close as speedily as possible; and i had not finished it more than six hours, in the state it has since appeared, [this is an allusion to the essay which paine wrote at an earlier part of . see introduction.--editor.] before a guard came there, about three in the morning, with an order signed by the two committees of public safety and surety general, for putting me in arrestation as a foreigner, and conveying me to the prison of the luxembourg. i contrived, in my way there, to call on joel barlow, and i put the manuscript of the work into his hands, as more safe than in my possession in prison; and not knowing what might be the fate in france either of the writer or the work, i addressed it to the protection of the citizens of the united states. it is justice that i say, that the guard who executed this order, and the interpreter to the committee of general surety, who accompanied them to examine my papers, treated me not only with civility, but with respect. the keeper of the 'luxembourg, benoit, a man of good heart, shewed to me every friendship in his power, as did also all his family, while he continued in that station. he was removed from it, put into arrestation, and carried before the tribunal upon a malignant accusation, but acquitted. after i had been in luxembourg about three weeks, the americans then in paris went in a body to the convention to reclaim me as their countryman and friend; but were answered by the president, vadier, who was also president of the committee of surety general, and had signed the order for my arrestation, that i was born in england. [these excited americans do not seem to have understood or reported the most important item in vadeer's reply, namely that their application was "unofficial," i.e. not made through or sanctioned by gouverneur morris, american minister. for the detailed history of all this see vol. iii.--editor.] i heard no more, after this, from any person out of the walls of the prison, till the fall of robespierre, on the th of thermidor--july , . about two months before this event, i was seized with a fever that in its progress had every symptom of becoming mortal, and from the effects of which i am not recovered. it was then that i remembered with renewed satisfaction, and congratulated myself most sincerely, on having written the former part of the age of reason. i had then but little expectation of surviving, and those about me had less. i know therefore by experience the conscientious trial of my own principles. i was then with three chamber comrades: joseph vanheule of bruges, charles bastfni, and michael robyns of louvain. the unceasing and anxious attention of these three friends to me, by night and day, i remember with gratitude and mention with pleasure. it happened that a physician (dr. graham) and a surgeon, (mr. bond,) part of the suite of general o'hara, [the officer who at yorktown, virginia, carried out the sword of cornwallis for surrender, and satirically offered it to rochambeau instead of washington. paine loaned him pounds when he (o'hara) left the prison, the money he had concealed in the lock of his cell-door.--editor.] were then in the luxembourg: i ask not myself whether it be convenient to them, as men under the english government, that i express to them my thanks; but i should reproach myself if i did not; and also to the physician of the luxembourg, dr. markoski. i have some reason to believe, because i cannot discover any other, that this illness preserved me in existence. among the papers of robespierre that were examined and reported upon to the convention by a committee of deputies, is a note in the hand writing of robespierre, in the following words: "demander que thomas paine soit decrete d'accusation, pour l'interet de l'amerique autant que de la france." [demand that thomas paine be decreed of accusation, for the interest of america, as well as of france.] from what cause it was that the intention was not put in execution, i know not, and cannot inform myself; and therefore i ascribe it to impossibility, on account of that illness. the convention, to repair as much as lay in their power the injustice i had sustained, invited me publickly and unanimously to return into the convention, and which i accepted, to shew i could bear an injury without permitting it to injure my principles or my disposition. it is not because right principles have been violated, that they are to be abandoned. i have seen, since i have been at liberty, several publications written, some in america, and some in england, as answers to the former part of "the age of reason." if the authors of these can amuse themselves by so doing, i shall not interrupt them, they may write against the work, and against me, as much as they please; they do me more service than they intend, and i can have no objection that they write on. they will find, however, by this second part, without its being written as an answer to them, that they must return to their work, and spin their cobweb over again. the first is brushed away by accident. they will now find that i have furnished myself with a bible and testament; and i can say also that i have found them to be much worse books than i had conceived. if i have erred in any thing, in the former part of the age of reason, it has been by speaking better of some parts than they deserved. i observe, that all my opponents resort, more or less, to what they call scripture evidence and bible authority, to help them out. they are so little masters of the subject, as to confound a dispute about authenticity with a dispute about doctrines; i will, however, put them right, that if they should be disposed to write any more, they may know how to begin. thomas paine. october, . chapter i - the old testament it has often been said that any thing may be proved from the bible; but before any thing can be admitted as proved by bible, the bible itself must be proved to be true; for if the bible be not true, or the truth of it be doubtful, it ceases to have authority, and cannot be admitted as proof of any thing. it has been the practice of all christian commentators on the bible, and of all christian priests and preachers, to impose the bible on the world as a mass of truth, and as the word of god; they have disputed and wrangled, and have anathematized each other about the supposeable meaning of particular parts and passages therein; one has said and insisted that such a passage meant such a thing, another that it meant directly the contrary, and a third, that it meant neither one nor the other, but something different from both; and this they have called understanding the bible. it has happened, that all the answers that i have seen to the former part of 'the age of reason' have been written by priests: and these pious men, like their predecessors, contend and wrangle, and understand the bible; each understands it differently, but each understands it best; and they have agreed in nothing but in telling their readers that thomas paine understands it not. now instead of wasting their time, and heating themselves in fractious disputations about doctrinal points drawn from the bible, these men ought to know, and if they do not it is civility to inform them, that the first thing to be understood is, whether there is sufficient authority for believing the bible to be the word of god, or whether there is not? there are matters in that book, said to be done by the express command of god, that are as shocking to humanity, and to every idea we have of moral justice, as any thing done by robespierre, by carrier, by joseph le bon, in france, by the english government in the east indies, or by any other assassin in modern times. when we read in the books ascribed to moses, joshua, etc., that they (the israelites) came by stealth upon whole nations of people, who, as the history itself shews, had given them no offence; that they put all those nations to the sword; that they spared neither age nor infancy; that they utterly destroyed men, women and children; that they left not a soul to breathe; expressions that are repeated over and over again in those books, and that too with exulting ferocity; are we sure these things are facts? are we sure that the creator of man commissioned those things to be done? are we sure that the books that tell us so were written by his authority? it is not the antiquity of a tale that is an evidence of its truth; on the contrary, it is a symptom of its being fabulous; for the more ancient any history pretends to be, the more it has the resemblance of a fable. the origin of every nation is buried in fabulous tradition, and that of the jews is as much to be suspected as any other. to charger the commission of things upon the almighty, which in their own nature, and by every rule of moral justice, are crimes, as all assassination is, and more especially the assassination of infants, is matter of serious concern. the bible tells us, that those assassinations were done by the express command of god. to believe therefore the bible to be true, we must unbelieve all our belief in the moral justice of god; for wherein could crying or smiling infants offend? and to read the bible without horror, we must undo every thing that is tender, sympathising, and benevolent in the heart of man. speaking for myself, if i had no other evidence that the bible is fabulous, than the sacrifice i must make to believe it to be true, that alone would be sufficient to determine my choice. but in addition to all the moral evidence against the bible, i will, in the progress of this work, produce such other evidence as even a priest cannot deny; and show, from that evidence, that the bible is not entitled to credit, as being the word of god. but, before i proceed to this examination, i will show wherein the bible differs from all other ancient writings with respect to the nature of the evidence necessary to establish its authenticity; and this is is the more proper to be done, because the advocates of the bible, in their answers to the former part of 'the age of reason,' undertake to say, and they put some stress thereon, that the authenticity of the bible is as well established as that of any other ancient book: as if our belief of the one could become any rule for our belief of the other. i know, however, but of one ancient book that authoritatively challenges universal consent and belief, and that is euclid's elements of geometry; [euclid, according to chronological history, lived three hundred years before christ, and about one hundred before archimedes; he was of the city of alexandria, in egypt.--author.] and the reason is, because it is a book of self-evident demonstration, entirely independent of its author, and of every thing relating to time, place, and circumstance. the matters contained in that book would have the same authority they now have, had they been written by any other person, or had the work been anonymous, or had the author never been known; for the identical certainty of who was the author makes no part of our belief of the matters contained in the book. but it is quite otherwise with respect to the books ascribed to moses, to joshua, to samuel, etc.: those are books of testimony, and they testify of things naturally incredible; and therefore the whole of our belief, as to the authenticity of those books, rests, in the first place, upon the certainty that they were written by moses, joshua, and samuel; secondly, upon the credit we give to their testimony. we may believe the first, that is, may believe the certainty of the authorship, and yet not the testimony; in the same manner that we may believe that a certain person gave evidence upon a case, and yet not believe the evidence that he gave. but if it should be found that the books ascribed to moses, joshua, and samuel, were not written by moses, joshua, and samuel, every part of the authority and authenticity of those books is gone at once; for there can be no such thing as forged or invented testimony; neither can there be anonymous testimony, more especially as to things naturally incredible; such as that of talking with god face to face, or that of the sun and moon standing still at the command of a man. the greatest part of the other ancient books are works of genius; of which kind are those ascribed to homer, to plato, to aristotle, to demosthenes, to cicero, etc. here again the author is not an essential in the credit we give to any of those works; for as works of genius they would have the same merit they have now, were they anonymous. nobody believes the trojan story, as related by homer, to be true; for it is the poet only that is admired, and the merit of the poet will remain, though the story be fabulous. but if we disbelieve the matters related by the bible authors (moses for instance) as we disbelieve the things related by homer, there remains nothing of moses in our estimation, but an imposter. as to the ancient historians, from herodotus to tacitus, we credit them as far as they relate things probable and credible, and no further: for if we do, we must believe the two miracles which tacitus relates were performed by vespasian, that of curing a lame man, and a blind man, in just the same manner as the same things are told of jesus christ by his historians. we must also believe the miracles cited by josephus, that of the sea of pamphilia opening to let alexander and his army pass, as is related of the red sea in exodus. these miracles are quite as well authenticated as the bible miracles, and yet we do not believe them; consequently the degree of evidence necessary to establish our belief of things naturally incredible, whether in the bible or elsewhere, is far greater than that which obtains our belief to natural and probable things; and therefore the advocates for the bible have no claim to our belief of the bible because that we believe things stated in other ancient writings; since that we believe the things stated in those writings no further than they are probable and credible, or because they are self-evident, like euclid; or admire them because they are elegant, like homer; or approve them because they are sedate, like plato; or judicious, like aristotle. having premised these things, i proceed to examine the authenticity of the bible; and i begin with what are called the five books of moses, genesis, exodus, leviticus, numbers, and deuteronomy. my intention is to shew that those books are spurious, and that moses is not the author of them; and still further, that they were not written in the time of moses nor till several hundred years afterwards; that they are no other than an attempted history of the life of moses, and of the times in which he is said to have lived, and also of the times prior thereto, written by some very ignorant and stupid pretenders to authorship, several hundred years after the death of moses; as men now write histories of things that happened, or are supposed to have happened, several hundred or several thousand years ago. the evidence that i shall produce in this case is from the books themselves; and i will confine myself to this evidence only. were i to refer for proofs to any of the ancient authors, whom the advocates of the bible call prophane authors, they would controvert that authority, as i controvert theirs: i will therefore meet them on their own ground, and oppose them with their own weapon, the bible. in the first place, there is no affirmative evidence that moses is the author of those books; and that he is the author, is altogether an unfounded opinion, got abroad nobody knows how. the style and manner in which those books are written give no room to believe, or even to suppose, they were written by moses; for it is altogether the style and manner of another person speaking of moses. in exodus, leviticus and numbers, (for every thing in genesis is prior to the times of moses and not the least allusion is made to him therein,) the whole, i say, of these books is in the third person; it is always, the lord said unto moses, or moses said unto the lord; or moses said unto the people, or the people said unto moses; and this is the style and manner that historians use in speaking of the person whose lives and actions they are writing. it may be said, that a man may speak of himself in the third person, and, therefore, it may be supposed that moses did; but supposition proves nothing; and if the advocates for the belief that moses wrote those books himself have nothing better to advance than supposition, they may as well be silent. but granting the grammatical right, that moses might speak of himself in the third person, because any man might speak of himself in that manner, it cannot be admitted as a fact in those books, that it is moses who speaks, without rendering moses truly ridiculous and absurd:--for example, numbers xii. : "now the man moses was very meek, above all the men which were on the face of the earth." if moses said this of himself, instead of being the meekest of men, he was one of the most vain and arrogant coxcombs; and the advocates for those books may now take which side they please, for both sides are against them: if moses was not the author, the books are without authority; and if he was the author, the author is without credit, because to boast of meekness is the reverse of meekness, and is a lie in sentiment. in deuteronomy, the style and manner of writing marks more evidently than in the former books that moses is not the writer. the manner here used is dramatical; the writer opens the subject by a short introductory discourse, and then introduces moses as in the act of speaking, and when he has made moses finish his harrangue, he (the writer) resumes his own part, and speaks till he brings moses forward again, and at last closes the scene with an account of the death, funeral, and character of moses. this interchange of speakers occurs four times in this book: from the first verse of the first chapter, to the end of the fifth verse, it is the writer who speaks; he then introduces moses as in the act of making his harrangue, and this continues to the end of the th verse of the fourth chapter; here the writer drops moses, and speaks historically of what was done in consequence of what moses, when living, is supposed to have said, and which the writer has dramatically rehearsed. the writer opens the subject again in the first verse of the fifth chapter, though it is only by saying that moses called the people of israel together; he then introduces moses as before, and continues him as in the act of speaking, to the end of the th chapter. he does the same thing at the beginning of the th chapter; and continues moses as in the act of speaking, to the end of the th chapter. at the th chapter the writer speaks again through the whole of the first verse, and the first line of the second verse, where he introduces moses for the last time, and continues him as in the act of speaking, to the end of the d chapter. the writer having now finished the rehearsal on the part of moses, comes forward, and speaks through the whole of the last chapter: he begins by telling the reader, that moses went up to the top of pisgah, that he saw from thence the land which (the writer says) had been promised to abraham, isaac, and jacob; that he, moses, died there in the land of moab, that he buried him in a valley in the land of moab, but that no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day, that is unto the time in which the writer lived who wrote the book of deuteronomy. the writer then tells us, that moses was one hundred and ten years of age when he died--that his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated; and he concludes by saying, that there arose not a prophet since in israel like unto moses, whom, says this anonymous writer, the lord knew face to face. having thus shewn, as far as grammatical evidence implies, that moses was not the writer of those books, i will, after making a few observations on the inconsistencies of the writer of the book of deuteronomy, proceed to shew, from the historical and chronological evidence contained in those books, that moses was not, because he could not be, the writer of them; and consequently, that there is no authority for believing that the inhuman and horrid butcheries of men, women, and children, told of in those books, were done, as those books say they were, at the command of god. it is a duty incumbent on every true deist, that he vindicates the moral justice of god against the calumnies of the bible. the writer of the book of deuteronomy, whoever he was, for it is an anonymous work, is obscure, and also contradictory with himself in the account he has given of moses. after telling that moses went to the top of pisgah (and it does not appear from any account that he ever came down again) he tells us, that moses died there in the land of moab, and that he buried him in a valley in the land of moab; but as there is no antecedent to the pronoun he, there is no knowing who he was, that did bury him. if the writer meant that he (god) buried him, how should he (the writer) know it? or why should we (the readers) believe him? since we know not who the writer was that tells us so, for certainly moses could not himself tell where he was buried. the writer also tells us, that no man knoweth where the sepulchre of moses is unto this day, meaning the time in which this writer lived; how then should he know that moses was buried in a valley in the land of moab? for as the writer lived long after the time of moses, as is evident from his using the expression of unto this day, meaning a great length of time after the death of moses, he certainly was not at his funeral; and on the other hand, it is impossible that moses himself could say that no man knoweth where the sepulchre is unto this day. to make moses the speaker, would be an improvement on the play of a child that hides himself and cries nobody can find me; nobody can find moses. this writer has no where told us how he came by the speeches which he has put into the mouth of moses to speak, and therefore we have a right to conclude that he either composed them himself, or wrote them from oral tradition. one or other of these is the more probable, since he has given, in the fifth chapter, a table of commandments, in which that called the fourth commandment is different from the fourth commandment in the twentieth chapter of exodus. in that of exodus, the reason given for keeping the seventh day is, because (says the commandment) god made the heavens and the earth in six days, and rested on the seventh; but in that of deuteronomy, the reason given is, that it was the day on which the children of israel came out of egypt, and therefore, says this commandment, the lord thy god commanded thee to kee the sabbath-day this makes no mention of the creation, nor that of the coming out of egypt. there are also many things given as laws of moses in this book, that are not to be found in any of the other books; among which is that inhuman and brutal law, xxi. , , , , which authorizes parents, the father and the mother, to bring their own children to have them stoned to death for what it pleased them to call stubbornness.--but priests have always been fond of preaching up deuteronomy, for deuteronomy preaches up tythes; and it is from this book, xxv. , they have taken the phrase, and applied it to tything, that "thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn:" and that this might not escape observation, they have noted it in the table of contents at the head of the chapter, though it is only a single verse of less than two lines. o priests! priests! ye are willing to be compared to an ox, for the sake of tythes. [an elegant pocket edition of paine's theological works (london. r. carlile, ) has in its title a picture of paine, as a moses in evening dress, unfolding the two tables of his "age of reason" to a farmer from whom the bishop of llandaff (who replied to this work) has taken a sheaf and a lamb which he is carrying to a church at the summit of a well stocked hill.--editor.]--though it is impossible for us to know identically who the writer of deuteronomy was, it is not difficult to discover him professionally, that he was some jewish priest, who lived, as i shall shew in the course of this work, at least three hundred and fifty years after the time of moses. i come now to speak of the historical and chronological evidence. the chronology that i shall use is the bible chronology; for i mean not to go out of the bible for evidence of any thing, but to make the bible itself prove historically and chronologically that moses is not the author of the books ascribed to him. it is therefore proper that i inform the readers (such an one at least as may not have the opportunity of knowing it) that in the larger bibles, and also in some smaller ones, there is a series of chronology printed in the margin of every page for the purpose of showing how long the historical matters stated in each page happened, or are supposed to have happened, before christ, and consequently the distance of time between one historical circumstance and another. i begin with the book of genesis.--in genesis xiv., the writer gives an account of lot being taken prisoner in a battle between the four kings against five, and carried off; and that when the account of lot being taken came to abraham, that he armed all his household and marched to rescue lot from the captors; and that he pursued them unto dan. (ver. .) to shew in what manner this expression of pursuing them unto dan applies to the case in question, i will refer to two circumstances, the one in america, the other in france. the city now called new york, in america, was originally new amsterdam; and the town in france, lately called havre marat, was before called havre-de-grace. new amsterdam was changed to new york in the year ; havre-de-grace to havre marat in the year . should, therefore, any writing be found, though without date, in which the name of new-york should be mentioned, it would be certain evidence that such a writing could not have been written before, and must have been written after new amsterdam was changed to new york, and consequently not till after the year , or at least during the course of that year. and in like manner, any dateless writing, with the name of havre marat, would be certain evidence that such a writing must have been written after havre-de-grace became havre marat, and consequently not till after the year , or at least during the course of that year. i now come to the application of those cases, and to show that there was no such place as dan till many years after the death of moses; and consequently, that moses could not be the writer of the book of genesis, where this account of pursuing them unto dan is given. the place that is called dan in the bible was originally a town of the gentiles, called laish; and when the tribe of dan seized upon this town, they changed its name to dan, in commemoration of dan, who was the father of that tribe, and the great grandson of abraham. to establish this in proof, it is necessary to refer from genesis to chapter xviii. of the book called the book of judges. it is there said (ver. ) that "they (the danites) came unto laish to a people that were quiet and secure, and they smote them with the edge of the sword [the bible is filled with murder] and burned the city with fire; and they built a city, (ver. ,) and dwelt therein, and [ver. ,] they called the name of the city dan, after the name of dan, their father; howbeit the name of the city was laish at the first." this account of the danites taking possession of laish and changing it to dan, is placed in the book of judges immediately after the death of samson. the death of samson is said to have happened b.c. and that of moses b.c. ; and, therefore, according to the historical arrangement, the place was not called dan till years after the death of moses. there is a striking confusion between the historical and the chronological arrangement in the book of judges. the last five chapters, as they stand in the book, , , , , , are put chronologically before all the preceding chapters; they are made to be years before the th chapter, before the th, before the th, before the th, go before the th, and years before the st chapter. this shews the uncertain and fabulous state of the bible. according to the chronological arrangement, the taking of laish, and giving it the name of dan, is made to be twenty years after the death of joshua, who was the successor of moses; and by the historical order, as it stands in the book, it is made to be years after the death of joshua, and after that of moses; but they both exclude moses from being the writer of genesis, because, according to either of the statements, no such a place as dan existed in the time of moses; and therefore the writer of genesis must have been some person who lived after the town of laish had the name of dan; and who that person was nobody knows, and consequently the book of genesis is anonymous, and without authority. i come now to state another point of historical and chronological evidence, and to show therefrom, as in the preceding case, that moses is not the author of the book of genesis. in genesis xxxvi. there is given a genealogy of the sons and descendants of esau, who are called edomites, and also a list by name of the kings of edom; in enumerating of which, it is said, verse , "and these are the kings that reigned in edom, before there reigned any king over the children of israel." now, were any dateless writing to be found, in which, speaking of any past events, the writer should say, these things happened before there was any congress in america, or before there was any convention in france, it would be evidence that such writing could not have been written before, and could only be written after there was a congress in america or a convention in france, as the case might be; and, consequently, that it could not be written by any person who died before there was a congress in the one country, or a convention in the other. nothing is more frequent, as well in history as in conversation, than to refer to a fact in the room of a date: it is most natural so to do, because a fact fixes itself in the memory better than a date; secondly, because the fact includes the date, and serves to give two ideas at once; and this manner of speaking by circumstances implies as positively that the fact alluded to is past, as if it was so expressed. when a person in speaking upon any matter, says, it was before i was married, or before my son was born, or before i went to america, or before i went to france, it is absolutely understood, and intended to be understood, that he has been married, that he has had a son, that he has been in america, or been in france. language does not admit of using this mode of expression in any other sense; and whenever such an expression is found anywhere, it can only be understood in the sense in which only it could have been used. the passage, therefore, that i have quoted--that "these are the kings that reigned in edom, before there reigned any king over the children of israel," could only have been written after the first king began to reign over them; and consequently that the book of genesis, so far from having been written by moses, could not have been written till the time of saul at least. this is the positive sense of the passage; but the expression, any king, implies more kings than one, at least it implies two, and this will carry it to the time of david; and, if taken in a general sense, it carries itself through all times of the jewish monarchy. had we met with this verse in any part of the bible that professed to have been written after kings began to reign in israel, it would have been impossible not to have seen the application of it. it happens then that this is the case; the two books of chronicles, which give a history of all the kings of israel, are professedly, as well as in fact, written after the jewish monarchy began; and this verse that i have quoted, and all the remaining verses of genesis xxxvi. are, word for word, in chronicles i., beginning at the d verse. it was with consistency that the writer of the chronicles could say as he has said, chron. i. , "these are the kings that reigned in edom, before there reigned any king ever the children of israel," because he was going to give, and has given, a list of the kings that had reigned in israel; but as it is impossible that the same expression could have been used before that period, it is as certain as any thing can be proved from historical language, that this part of genesis is taken from chronicles, and that genesis is not so old as chronicles, and probably not so old as the book of homer, or as aesop's fables; admitting homer to have been, as the tables of chronology state, contemporary with david or solomon, and aesop to have lived about the end of the jewish monarchy. take away from genesis the belief that moses was the author, on which only the strange belief that it is the word of god has stood, and there remains nothing of genesis but an anonymous book of stories, fables, and traditionary or invented absurdities, or of downright lies. the story of eve and the serpent, and of noah and his ark, drops to a level with the arabian tales, without the merit of being entertaining, and the account of men living to eight and nine hundred years becomes as fabulous as the immortality of the giants of the mythology. besides, the character of moses, as stated in the bible, is the most horrid that can be imagined. if those accounts be true, he was the wretch that first began and carried on wars on the score or on the pretence of religion; and under that mask, or that infatuation, committed the most unexampled atrocities that are to be found in the history of any nation. of which i will state only one instance: when the jewish army returned from one of their plundering and murdering excursions, the account goes on as follows (numbers xxxi. ): "and moses, and eleazar the priest, and all the princes of the congregation, went forth to meet them without the camp; and moses was wroth with the officers of the host, with the captains over thousands, and captains over hundreds, which came from the battle; and moses said unto them, 'have ye saved all the women alive?' behold, these caused the children of israel, through the counsel of balaam, to commit trespass against the lord in the matter of peor, and there was a plague among the congregation of the lord. now therefore, 'kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman that hath known a man by lying with him; but all the women-children that have not known a man by lying with him, keep alive for yourselves.'" among the detestable villains that in any period of the world have disgraced the name of man, it is impossible to find a greater than moses, if this account be true. here is an order to butcher the boys, to massacre the mothers, and debauch the daughters. let any mother put herself in the situation of those mothers, one child murdered, another destined to violation, and herself in the hands of an executioner: let any daughter put herself in the situation of those daughters, destined as a prey to the murderers of a mother and a brother, and what will be their feelings? it is in vain that we attempt to impose upon nature, for nature will have her course, and the religion that tortures all her social ties is a false religion. after this detestable order, follows an account of the plunder taken, and the manner of dividing it; and here it is that the profaneings of priestly hypocrisy increases the catalogue of crimes. verse , "and the lord's tribute of the sheep was six hundred and threescore and fifteen; and the beeves were thirty and six thousand, of which the lord's tribute was threescore and twelve; and the asses were thirty thousand, of which the lord's tribute was threescore and one; and the persons were sixteen thousand, of which the lord's tribute was thirty and two." in short, the matters contained in this chapter, as well as in many other parts of the bible, are too horrid for humanity to read, or for decency to hear; for it appears, from the th verse of this chapter, that the number of women-children consigned to debauchery by the order of moses was thirty-two thousand. people in general know not what wickedness there is in this pretended word of god. brought up in habits of superstition, they take it for granted that the bible is true, and that it is good; they permit themselves not to doubt of it, and they carry the ideas they form of the benevolence of the almighty to the book which they have been taught to believe was written by his authority. good heavens! it is quite another thing, it is a book of lies, wickedness, and blasphemy; for what can be greater blasphemy, than to ascribe the wickedness of man to the orders of the almighty! but to return to my subject, that of showing that moses is not the author of the books ascribed to him, and that the bible is spurious. the two instances i have already given would be sufficient, without any additional evidence, to invalidate the authenticity of any book that pretended to be four or five hundred years more ancient than the matters it speaks of, refers to, them as facts; for in the case of pursuing them unto dan, and of the kings that reigned over the children of israel; not even the flimsy pretence of prophecy can be pleaded. the expressions are in the preter tense, and it would be downright idiotism to say that a man could prophecy in the preter tense. but there are many other passages scattered throughout those books that unite in the same point of evidence. it is said in exodus, (another of the books ascribed to moses,) xvi. : "and the children of israel did eat manna until they came to a land inhabited; they did eat manna until they came unto the borders of the land of canaan." whether the children of israel ate manna or not, or what manna was, or whether it was anything more than a kind of fungus or small mushroom, or other vegetable substance common to that part of the country, makes no part of my argument; all that i mean to show is, that it is not moses that could write this account, because the account extends itself beyond the life time of moses. moses, according to the bible, (but it is such a book of lies and contradictions there is no knowing which part to believe, or whether any) died in the wilderness, and never came upon the borders of 'the land of canaan; and consequently, it could not be he that said what the children of israel did, or what they ate when they came there. this account of eating manna, which they tell us was written by moses, extends itself to the time of joshua, the successor of moses, as appears by the account given in the book of joshua, after the children of israel had passed the river jordan, and came into the borders of the land of canaan. joshua, v. : "and the manna ceased on the morrow, after they had eaten of the old corn of the land; neither had the children of israel manna any more, but they did eat of the fruit of the land of canaan that year." but a more remarkable instance than this occurs in deuteronomy; which, while it shows that moses could not be the writer of that book, shows also the fabulous notions that prevailed at that time about giants' in deuteronomy iii. , among the conquests said to be made by moses, is an account of the taking of og, king of bashan: "for only og, king of bashan, remained of the race of giants; behold, his bedstead was a bedstead of iron; is it not in rabbath of the children of ammon? nine cubits was the length thereof, and four cubits the breadth of it, after the cubit of a man." a cubit is foot / inches; the length therefore of the bed was feet inches, and the breadth feet inches: thus much for this giant's bed. now for the historical part, which, though the evidence is not so direct and positive as in the former cases, is nevertheless very presumable and corroborating evidence, and is better than the best evidence on the contrary side. the writer, by way of proving the existence of this giant, refers to his bed, as an ancient relick, and says, is it not in rabbath (or rabbah) of the children of ammon? meaning that it is; for such is frequently the bible method of affirming a thing. but it could not be moses that said this, because moses could know nothing about rabbah, nor of what was in it. rabbah was not a city belonging to this giant king, nor was it one of the cities that moses took. the knowledge therefore that this bed was at rabbah, and of the particulars of its dimensions, must be referred to the time when rabbah was taken, and this was not till four hundred years after the death of moses; for which, see sam. xii. : "and joab [david's general] fought against rabbah of the children of ammon, and took the royal city," etc. as i am not undertaking to point out all the contradictions in time, place, and circumstance that abound in the books ascribed to moses, and which prove to demonstration that those books could not be written by moses, nor in the time of moses, i proceed to the book of joshua, and to shew that joshua is not the author of that book, and that it is anonymous and without authority. the evidence i shall produce is contained in the book itself: i will not go out of the bible for proof against the supposed authenticity of the bible. false testimony is always good against itself. joshua, according to joshua i., was the immediate successor of moses; he was, moreover, a military man, which moses was not; and he continued as chief of the people of israel twenty-five years; that is, from the time that moses died, which, according to the bible chronology, was b.c. , until b.c. , when, according to the same chronology, joshua died. if, therefore, we find in this book, said to have been written by joshua, references to facts done after the death of joshua, it is evidence that joshua could not be the author; and also that the book could not have been written till after the time of the latest fact which it records. as to the character of the book, it is horrid; it is a military history of rapine and murder, as savage and brutal as those recorded of his predecessor in villainy and hypocrisy, moses; and the blasphemy consists, as in the former books, in ascribing those deeds to the orders of the almighty. in the first place, the book of joshua, as is the case in the preceding books, is written in the third person; it is the historian of joshua that speaks, for it would have been absurd and vainglorious that joshua should say of himself, as is said of him in the last verse of the sixth chapter, that "his fame was noised throughout all the country."--i now come more immediately to the proof. in joshua xxiv. , it is said "and israel served the lord all the days of joshua, and all the days of the elders that over-lived joshua." now, in the name of common sense, can it be joshua that relates what people had done after he was dead? this account must not only have been written by some historian that lived after joshua, but that lived also after the elders that out-lived joshua. there are several passages of a general meaning with respect to time, scattered throughout the book of joshua, that carries the time in which the book was written to a distance from the time of joshua, but without marking by exclusion any particular time, as in the passage above quoted. in that passage, the time that intervened between the death of joshua and the death of the elders is excluded descriptively and absolutely, and the evidence substantiates that the book could not have been written till after the death of the last. but though the passages to which i allude, and which i am going to quote, do not designate any particular time by exclusion, they imply a time far more distant from the days of joshua than is contained between the death of joshua and the death of the elders. such is the passage, x. , where, after giving an account that the sun stood still upon gibeon, and the moon in the valley of ajalon, at the command of joshua, (a tale only fit to amuse children) [note: this tale of the sun standing still upon motint gibeon, and the moon in the valley of ajalon, is one of those fables that detects itself. such a circumstance could not have happened without being known all over the world. one half would have wondered why the sun did not rise, and the other why it did not set; and the tradition of it would be universal; whereas there is not a nation in the world that knows anything about it. but why must the moon stand still? what occasion could there be for moonlight in the daytime, and that too whilst the sun shined? as a poetical figure, the whole is well enough; it is akin to that in the song of deborah and barak, the stars in their courses fought against sisera; but it is inferior to the figurative declaration of mahomet to the persons who came to expostulate with him on his goings on, wert thou, said he, to come to me with the sun in thy right hand and the moon in thy left, it should not alter my career. for joshua to have exceeded mahomet, he should have put the sun and moon, one in each pocket, and carried them as guy faux carried his dark lanthorn, and taken them out to shine as he might happen to want them. the sublime and the ridiculous are often so nearly related that it is difficult to class them separately. one step above the sublime makes the ridiculous, and one step above the ridiculous makes the sublime again; the account, however, abstracted from the poetical fancy, shews the ignorance of joshua, for he should have commanded the earth to have stood still.--author.] the passage says: "and there was no day like that, before it, nor after it, that the lord hearkened to the voice of a man." the time implied by the expression after it, that is, after that day, being put in comparison with all the time that passed before it, must, in order to give any expressive signification to the passage, mean a great length of time:--for example, it would have been ridiculous to have said so the next day, or the next week, or the next month, or the next year; to give therefore meaning to the passage, comparative with the wonder it relates, and the prior time it alludes to, it must mean centuries of years; less however than one would be trifling, and less than two would be barely admissible. a distant, but general time is also expressed in chapter viii.; where, after giving an account of the taking the city of ai, it is said, ver. th, "and joshua burned ai, and made it an heap for ever, a desolation unto this day;" and again, ver. , where speaking of the king of ai, whom joshua had hanged, and buried at the entering of the gate, it is said, "and he raised thereon a great heap of stones, which remaineth unto this day," that is, unto the day or time in which the writer of the book of joshua lived. and again, in chapter x. where, after speaking of the five kings whom joshua had hanged on five trees, and then thrown in a cave, it is said, "and he laid great stones on the cave's mouth, which remain unto this very day." in enumerating the several exploits of joshua, and of the tribes, and of the places which they conquered or attempted, it is said, xv. , "as for the jebusites, the inhabitants of jerusalem, the children of judah could not drive them out; but the jebusites dwell with the children of judah at jerusalem unto this day." the question upon this passage is, at what time did the jebusites and the children of judah dwell together at jerusalem? as this matter occurs again in judges i. i shall reserve my observations till i come to that part. having thus shewn from the book of joshua itself, without any auxiliary evidence whatever, that joshua is not the author of that book, and that it is anonymous, and consequently without authority, i proceed, as before-mentioned, to the book of judges. the book of judges is anonymous on the face of it; and, therefore, even the pretence is wanting to call it the word of god; it has not so much as a nominal voucher; it is altogether fatherless. this book begins with the same expression as the book of joshua. that of joshua begins, chap i. , now after the death of moses, etc., and this of the judges begins, now after the death of joshua, etc. this, and the similarity of stile between the two books, indicate that they are the work of the same author; but who he was, is altogether unknown; the only point that the book proves is that the author lived long after the time of joshua; for though it begins as if it followed immediately after his death, the second chapter is an epitome or abstract of the whole book, which, according to the bible chronology, extends its history through a space of years; that is, from the death of joshua, b.c. to the death of samson, b.c. , and only years before saul went to seek his father's asses, and was made king. but there is good reason to believe, that it was not written till the time of david, at least, and that the book of joshua was not written before the same time. in judges i., the writer, after announcing the death of joshua, proceeds to tell what happened between the children of judah and the native inhabitants of the land of canaan. in this statement the writer, having abruptly mentioned jerusalem in the th verse, says immediately after, in the th verse, by way of explanation, "now the children of judah had fought against jerusalem, and taken it;" consequently this book could not have been written before jerusalem had been taken. the reader will recollect the quotation i have just before made from joshua xv. , where it said that the jebusites dwell with the children of judah at jerusalem at this day; meaning the time when the book of joshua was written. the evidence i have already produced to prove that the books i have hitherto treated of were not written by the persons to whom they are ascribed, nor till many years after their death, if such persons ever lived, is already so abundant, that i can afford to admit this passage with less weight than i am entitled to draw from it. for the case is, that so far as the bible can be credited as an history, the city of jerusalem was not taken till the time of david; and consequently, that the book of joshua, and of judges, were not written till after the commencement of the reign of david, which was years after the death of joshua. the name of the city that was afterward called jerusalem was originally jebus, or jebusi, and was the capital of the jebusites. the account of david's taking this city is given in samuel, v. , etc.; also in chron. xiv. , etc. there is no mention in any part of the bible that it was ever taken before, nor any account that favours such an opinion. it is not said, either in samuel or in chronicles, that they "utterly destroyed men, women and children, that they left not a soul to breathe," as is said of their other conquests; and the silence here observed implies that it was taken by capitulation; and that the jebusites, the native inhabitants, continued to live in the place after it was taken. the account therefore, given in joshua, that "the jebusites dwell with the children of judah" at jerusalem at this day, corresponds to no other time than after taking the city by david. having now shown that every book in the bible, from genesis to judges, is without authenticity, i come to the book of ruth, an idle, bungling story, foolishly told, nobody knows by whom, about a strolling country-girl creeping slily to bed to her cousin boaz. [the text of ruth does not imply the unpleasant sense paine's words are likely to convey.--editor.] pretty stuff indeed to be called the word of god. it is, however, one of the best books in the bible, for it is free from murder and rapine. i come next to the two books of samuel, and to shew that those books were not written by samuel, nor till a great length of time after the death of samuel; and that they are, like all the former books, anonymous, and without authority. to be convinced that these books have been written much later than the time of samuel, and consequently not by him, it is only necessary to read the account which the writer gives of saul going to seek his father's asses, and of his interview with samuel, of whom saul went to enquire about those lost asses, as foolish people now-a-days go to a conjuror to enquire after lost things. the writer, in relating this story of saul, samuel, and the asses, does not tell it as a thing that had just then happened, but as an ancient story in the time this writer lived; for he tells it in the language or terms used at the time that samuel lived, which obliges the writer to explain the story in the terms or language used in the time the writer lived. samuel, in the account given of him in the first of those books, chap. ix. called the seer; and it is by this term that saul enquires after him, ver. , "and as they [saul and his servant] went up the hill to the city, they found young maidens going out to draw water; and they said unto them, is the seer here?" saul then went according to the direction of these maidens, and met samuel without knowing him, and said unto him, ver. , "tell me, i pray thee, where the seer's house is? and samuel answered saul, and said, i am the seer." as the writer of the book of samuel relates these questions and answers, in the language or manner of speaking used in the time they are said to have been spoken, and as that manner of speaking was out of use when this author wrote, he found it necessary, in order to make the story understood, to explain the terms in which these questions and answers are spoken; and he does this in the th verse, where he says, "before-time in israel, when a man went to enquire of god, thus he spake, come let us go to the seer; for he that is now called a prophet, was before-time called a seer." this proves, as i have before said, that this story of saul, samuel, and the asses, was an ancient story at the time the book of samuel was written, and consequently that samuel did not write it, and that the book is without authenticity. but if we go further into those books the evidence is still more positive that samuel is not the writer of them; for they relate things that did not happen till several years after the death of samuel. samuel died before saul; for i samuel, xxviii. tells, that saul and the witch of endor conjured samuel up after he was dead; yet the history of matters contained in those books is extended through the remaining part of saul's life, and to the latter end of the life of david, who succeeded saul. the account of the death and burial of samuel (a thing which he could not write himself) is related in i samuel xxv.; and the chronology affixed to this chapter makes this to be b.c. ; yet the history of this first book is brought down to b.c. , that is, to the death of saul, which was not till four years after the death of samuel. the second book of samuel begins with an account of things that did not happen till four years after samuel was dead; for it begins with the reign of david, who succeeded saul, and it goes on to the end of david's reign, which was forty-three years after the death of samuel; and, therefore, the books are in themselves positive evidence that they were not written by samuel. i have now gone through all the books in the first part of the bible, to which the names of persons are affixed, as being the authors of those books, and which the church, styling itself the christian church, have imposed upon the world as the writings of moses, joshua and samuel; and i have detected and proved the falsehood of this imposition.--and now ye priests, of every description, who have preached and written against the former part of the 'age of reason,' what have ye to say? will ye with all this mass of evidence against you, and staring you in the face, still have the assurance to march into your pulpits, and continue to impose these books on your congregations, as the works of inspired penmen and the word of god? when it is as evident as demonstration can make truth appear, that the persons who ye say are the authors, are not the authors, and that ye know not who the authors are. what shadow of pretence have ye now to produce for continuing the blasphemous fraud? what have ye still to offer against the pure and moral religion of deism, in support of your system of falsehood, idolatry, and pretended revelation? had the cruel and murdering orders, with which the bible is filled, and the numberless torturing executions of men, women, and children, in consequence of those orders, been ascribed to some friend, whose memory you revered, you would have glowed with satisfaction at detecting the falsehood of the charge, and gloried in defending his injured fame. it is because ye are sunk in the cruelty of superstition, or feel no interest in the honour of your creator, that ye listen to the horrid tales of the bible, or hear them with callous indifference. the evidence i have produced, and shall still produce in the course of this work, to prove that the bible is without authority, will, whilst it wounds the stubbornness of a priest, relieve and tranquillize the minds of millions: it will free them from all those hard thoughts of the almighty which priestcraft and the bible had infused into their minds, and which stood in everlasting opposition to all their ideas of his moral justice and benevolence. i come now to the two books of kings, and the two books of chronicles.--those books are altogether historical, and are chiefly confined to the lives and actions of the jewish kings, who in general were a parcel of rascals: but these are matters with which we have no more concern than we have with the roman emperors, or homer's account of the trojan war. besides which, as those books are anonymous, and as we know nothing of the writer, or of his character, it is impossible for us to know what degree of credit to give to the matters related therein. like all other ancient histories, they appear to be a jumble of fable and of fact, and of probable and of improbable things, but which distance of time and place, and change of circumstances in the world, have rendered obsolete and uninteresting. the chief use i shall make of those books will be that of comparing them with each other, and with other parts of the bible, to show the confusion, contradiction, and cruelty in this pretended word of god. the first book of kings begins with the reign of solomon, which, according to the bible chronology, was b.c. ; and the second book ends b.c. , being a little after the reign of zedekiah, whom nebuchadnezzar, after taking jerusalem and conquering the jews, carried captive to babylon. the two books include a space of years. the two books of chronicles are an history of the same times, and in general of the same persons, by another author; for it would be absurd to suppose that the same author wrote the history twice over. the first book of chronicles (after giving the genealogy from adam to saul, which takes up the first nine chapters) begins with the reign of david; and the last book ends, as in the last book of kings, soon, after the reign of zedekiah, about b.c. . the last two verses of the last chapter bring the history years more forward, that is, to . but these verses do not belong to the book, as i shall show when i come to speak of the book of ezra. the two books of kings, besides the history of saul, david, and solomon, who reigned over all israel, contain an abstract of the lives of seventeen kings, and one queen, who are stiled kings of judah; and of nineteen, who are stiled kings of israel; for the jewish nation, immediately on the death of solomon, split into two parties, who chose separate kings, and who carried on most rancorous wars against each other. these two books are little more than a history of assassinations, treachery, and wars. the cruelties that the jews had accustomed themselves to practise on the canaanites, whose country they had savagely invaded, under a pretended gift from god, they afterwards practised as furiously on each other. scarcely half their kings died a natural death, and in some instances whole families were destroyed to secure possession to the successor, who, after a few years, and sometimes only a few months, or less, shared the same fate. in kings x., an account is given of two baskets full of children's heads, seventy in number, being exposed at the entrance of the city; they were the children of ahab, and were murdered by the orders of jehu, whom elisha, the pretended man of god, had anointed to be king over israel, on purpose to commit this bloody deed, and assassinate his predecessor. and in the account of the reign of menahem, one of the kings of israel who had murdered shallum, who had reigned but one month, it is said, kings xv. , that menahem smote the city of tiphsah, because they opened not the city to him, and all the women therein that were with child he ripped up. could we permit ourselves to suppose that the almighty would distinguish any nation of people by the name of his chosen people, we must suppose that people to have been an example to all the rest of the world of the purest piety and humanity, and not such a nation of ruffians and cut-throats as the ancient jews were,--a people who, corrupted by and copying after such monsters and imposters as moses and aaron, joshua, samuel, and david, had distinguished themselves above all others on the face of the known earth for barbarity and wickedness. if we will not stubbornly shut our eyes and steel our hearts it is impossible not to see, in spite of all that long-established superstition imposes upon the mind, that the flattering appellation of his chosen people is no other than a lie which the priests and leaders of the jews had invented to cover the baseness of their own characters; and which christian priests sometimes as corrupt, and often as cruel, have professed to believe. the two books of chronicles are a repetition of the same crimes; but the history is broken in several places, by the author leaving out the reign of some of their kings; and in this, as well as in that of kings, there is such a frequent transition from kings of judah to kings of israel, and from kings of israel to kings of judah, that the narrative is obscure in the reading. in the same book the history sometimes contradicts itself: for example, in kings, i. , we are told, but in rather ambiguous terms, that after the death of ahaziah, king of israel, jehoram, or joram, (who was of the house of ahab), reigned in his stead in the second year of jehoram, or joram, son of jehoshaphat, king of judah; and in viii. , of the same book, it is said, "and in the fifth year of joram, the son of ahab, king of israel, jehoshaphat being then king of judah, jehoram, the son of jehoshaphat king of judah, began to reign." that is, one chapter says joram of judah began to reign in the second year of joram of israel; and the other chapter says, that joram of israel began to reign in the fifth year of joram of judah. several of the most extraordinary matters related in one history, as having happened during the reign of such or such of their kings, are not to be found in the other, in relating the reign of the same king: for example, the two first rival kings, after the death of solomon, were rehoboam and jeroboam; and in i kings xii. and xiii. an account is given of jeroboam making an offering of burnt incense, and that a man, who is there called a man of god, cried out against the altar (xiii. ): "o altar, altar! thus saith the lord: behold, a child shall be born unto the house of david, josiah by name, and upon thee shall he offer the priests of the high places that burn incense upon thee, and men's bones shall be burned upon thee." verse : "and it came to pass, when king jeroboam heard the saying of the man of god, which had cried against the altar in bethel, that he put forth his hand from the altar, saying, lay hold on him; and his hand which he put out against him dried up so that he could not pull it again to him." one would think that such an extraordinary case as this, (which is spoken of as a judgement,) happening to the chief of one of the parties, and that at the first moment of the separation of the israelites into two nations, would, if it,. had been true, have been recorded in both histories. but though men, in later times, have believed all that the prophets have said unto them, it does appear that those prophets, or historians, disbelieved each other: they knew each other too well. a long account also is given in kings about elijah. it runs through several chapters, and concludes with telling, kings ii. , "and it came to pass, as they (elijah and elisha) still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder, and elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven." hum! this the author of chronicles, miraculous as the story is, makes no mention of, though he mentions elijah by name; neither does he say anything of the story related in the second chapter of the same book of kings, of a parcel of children calling elisha bald head; and that this man of god (ver. ) "turned back, and looked upon them, and cursed them in the name of the lord; and there came forth two she-bears out of the wood, and tare forty and two children of them." he also passes over in silence the story told, kings xiii., that when they were burying a man in the sepulchre where elisha had been buried, it happened that the dead man, as they were letting him down, (ver. ) "touched the bones of elisha, and he (the dead man) revived, and stood up on his feet." the story does not tell us whether they buried the man, notwithstanding he revived and stood upon his feet, or drew him up again. upon all these stories the writer of the chronicles is as silent as any writer of the present day, who did not chose to be accused of lying, or at least of romancing, would be about stories of the same kind. but, however these two historians may differ from each other with respect to the tales related by either, they are silent alike with respect to those men styled prophets whose writings fill up the latter part of the bible. isaiah, who lived in the time of hezekiab, is mentioned in kings, and again in chronicles, when these histories are speaking of that reign; but except in one or two instances at most, and those very slightly, none of the rest are so much as spoken of, or even their existence hinted at; though, according to the bible chronology, they lived within the time those histories were written; and some of them long before. if those prophets, as they are called, were men of such importance in their day, as the compilers of the bible, and priests and commentators have since represented them to be, how can it be accounted for that not one of those histories should say anything about them? the history in the books of kings and of chronicles is brought forward, as i have already said, to the year b.c. ; it will, therefore, be proper to examine which of these prophets lived before that period. here follows a table of all the prophets, with the times in which they lived before christ, according to the chronology affixed to the first chapter of each of the books of the prophets; and also of the number of years they lived before the books of kings and chronicles were written: table of the prophets, with the time in which they lived before christ, and also before the books of kings and chronicles were written: years years before names. before kings and observations. christ. chronicles. isaiah............... mentioned. (mentioned only in jeremiah............. the last [two] chapters of chronicles. ezekiel.............. not mentioned. daniel............... not mentioned. hosea................ not mentioned. joel................. not mentioned. amos................. not mentioned. obadiah.............. not mentioned. jonah................ see the note. micah................ not mentioned. nahum................ not mentioned. habakkuk............. not mentioned. zepbaniah............ not mentioned. haggai zechariah all three after the year medachi [note in kings xiv. , the name of jonah is mentioned on account of the restoration of a tract of land by jeroboam; but nothing further is said of him, nor is any allusion made to the book of jonah, nor to his expedition to nineveh, nor to his encounter with the whale.--author.] this table is either not very honourable for the bible historians, or not very honourable for the bible prophets; and i leave to priests and commentators, who are very learned in little things, to settle the point of etiquette between the two; and to assign a reason, why the authors of kings and of chronicles have treated those prophets, whom, in the former part of the 'age of reason,' i have considered as poets, with as much degrading silence as any historian of the present day would treat peter pindar. i have one more observation to make on the book of chronicles; after which i shall pass on to review the remaining books of the bible. in my observations on the book of genesis, i have quoted a passage from xxxvi. , which evidently refers to a time, after that kings began to reign over the children of israel; and i have shown that as this verse is verbatim the same as in chronicles i. , where it stands consistently with the order of history, which in genesis it does not, that the verse in genesis, and a great part of the th chapter, have been taken from chronicles; and that the book of genesis, though it is placed first in the bible, and ascribed to moses, has been manufactured by some unknown person, after the book of chronicles was written, which was not until at least eight hundred and sixty years after the time of moses. the evidence i proceed by to substantiate this, is regular, and has in it but two stages. first, as i have already stated, that the passage in genesis refers itself for time to chronicles; secondly, that the book of chronicles, to which this passage refers itself, was not begun to be written until at least eight hundred and sixty years after the time of moses. to prove this, we have only to look into chronicles iii. , where the writer, in giving the genealogy of the descendants of david, mentions zedekiah; and it was in the time of zedekiah that nebuchadnezzar conquered jerusalem, b.c. , and consequently more than years after moses. those who have superstitiously boasted of the antiquity of the bible, and particularly of the books ascribed to moses, have done it without examination, and without any other authority than that of one credulous man telling it to another: for, so far as historical and chronological evidence applies, the very first book in the bible is not so ancient as the book of homer, by more than three hundred years, and is about the same age with aesop's fables. i am not contending for the morality of homer; on the contrary, i think it a book of false glory, and tending to inspire immoral and mischievous notions of honour; and with respect to aesop, though the moral is in general just, the fable is often cruel; and the cruelty of the fable does more injury to the heart, especially in a child, than the moral does good to the judgment. having now dismissed kings and chronicles, i come to the next in course, the book of ezra. as one proof, among others i shall produce to shew the disorder in which this pretended word of god, the bible, has been put together, and the uncertainty of who the authors were, we have only to look at the first three verses in ezra, and the last two in chronicles; for by what kind of cutting and shuffling has it been that the first three verses in ezra should be the last two verses in chronicles, or that the last two in chronicles should be the first three in ezra? either the authors did not know their own works or the compilers did not know the authors. last two verses of chronicles. ver. . now in the first year of cyrus, king of persia, that the word of the lord, spoken by the mouth of jeremiah, might be accomplished, the lord stirred up the spirit of cyrus, king of persia, that he made a proclamation throughout all his kingdom, and put it also in writing, saying. earth hath the lord god of heaven given me; and he hath charged me to build him an house in jerusalem which is in judah. who is there among you of all his people? the lord his god be with him, and let him go up. *** first three verses of ezra. ver. . now in the first year of cyrus, king of persia, that the word of the lord, by the mouth of jeremiah, might be fulfilled, the lord stirred up the spirit of cyrus, king of persia, that he made a proclamation throughout all his kingdom, and put it also in writing, saying. . thus saith cyrus, king of persia, the lord god of heaven hath given me all the kingdoms of the earth; and he hath charged me to build him an house at jerusalem, which is in judah. . who is there among you of all his people? his god be with him, and let him go up to jerusalem, which is in judah, and build the house of the lord god of israel (he is the god) which is in jerusalem. *** the last verse in chronicles is broken abruptly, and ends in the middle of the phrase with the word 'up' without signifying to what place. this abrupt break, and the appearance of the same verses in different books, show as i have already said, the disorder and ignorance in which the bible has been put together, and that the compilers of it had no authority for what they were doing, nor we any authority for believing what they have done. [note i observed, as i passed along, several broken and senseless passages in the bible, without thinking them of consequence enough to be introduced in the body of the work; such as that, samuel xiii. , where it is said, "saul reigned one year; and when he had reigned two years over israel, saul chose him three thousand men," &c. the first part of the verse, that saul reigned one year has no sense, since it does not tell us what saul did, nor say any thing of what happened at the end of that one year; and it is, besides, mere absurdity to say he reigned one year, when the very next phrase says he had reigned two for if he had reigned two, it was impossible not to have reigned one. another instance occurs in joshua v. where the writer tells us a story of an angel (for such the table of contents at the head of the chapter calls him) appearing unto joshua; and the story ends abruptly, and without any conclusion. the story is as follows:--ver. . "and it came to pass, when joshua was by jericho, that he lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold there stood a man over against him with his sword drawn in his hand; and joshua went unto him and said unto him, art thou for us, or for our adversaries?" verse , "and he said, nay; but as captain of the host of the lord am i now come. and joshua fell on his face to the earth, and did worship and said unto him, what saith my lord unto his servant?" verse , "and the captain of the lord's host said unto joshua, loose thy shoe from off thy foot; for the place whereon thou standeth is holy. and joshua did so."--and what then? nothing: for here the story ends, and the chapter too. either this story is broken off in the middle, or it is a story told by some jewish humourist in ridicule of joshua's pretended mission from god, and the compilers of the bible, not perceiving the design of the story, have told it as a serious matter. as a story of humour and ridicule it has a great deal of point; for it pompously introduces an angel in the figure of a man, with a drawn sword in his hand, before whom joshua falls on his face to the earth, and worships (which is contrary to their second commandment;) and then, this most important embassy from heaven ends in telling joshua to pull off his shoe. it might as well have told him to pull up his breeches. it is certain, however, that the jews did not credit every thing their leaders told them, as appears from the cavalier manner in which they speak of moses, when he was gone into the mount. as for this moses, say they, we wot not what is become of him. exod. xxxii. .--author. the only thing that has any appearance of certainty in the book of ezra is the time in which it was written, which was immediately after the return of the jews from the babylonian captivity, about b.c. . ezra (who, according to the jewish commentators, is the same person as is called esdras in the apocrypha) was one of the persons who returned, and who, it is probable, wrote the account of that affair. nebemiah, whose book follows next to ezra, was another of the returned persons; and who, it is also probable, wrote the account of the same affair, in the book that bears his name. but those accounts are nothing to us, nor to any other person, unless it be to the jews, as a part of the history of their nation; and there is just as much of the word of god in those books as there is in any of the histories of france, or rapin's history of england, or the history of any other country. but even in matters of historical record, neither of those writers are to be depended upon. in ezra ii., the writer gives a list of the tribes and families, and of the precise number of souls of each, that returned from babylon to jerusalem; and this enrolment of the persons so returned appears to have been one of the principal objects for writing the book; but in this there is an error that destroys the intention of the undertaking. the writer begins his enrolment in the following manner (ii. ): "the children of parosh, two thousand one hundred seventy and four." ver. , "the children of shephatiah, three hundred seventy and two." and in this manner he proceeds through all the families; and in the th verse, he makes a total, and says, the whole congregation together was forty and two thousand three hundred and threescore. but whoever will take the trouble of casting up the several particulars, will find that the total is but , ; so that the error is , . what certainty then can there be in the bible for any thing? [here mr. paine includes the long list of numbers from the bible of all the children listed and the total thereof. this can be had directly from the bible.] nehemiah, in like manner, gives a list of the returned families, and of the number of each family. he begins as in ezra, by saying (vii. ): "the children of parosh, two thousand three hundred and seventy-two;" and so on through all the families. (the list differs in several of the particulars from that of ezra.) in ver. , nehemiah makes a total, and says, as ezra had said, "the whole congregation together was forty and two thousand three hundred and threescore." but the particulars of this list make a total but of , , so that the error here is , . these writers may do well enough for bible-makers, but not for any thing where truth and exactness is necessary. the next book in course is the book of esther. if madam esther thought it any honour to offer herself as a kept mistress to ahasuerus, or as a rival to queen vashti, who had refused to come to a drunken king in the midst of a drunken company, to be made a show of, (for the account says, they had been drinking seven days, and were merry,) let esther and mordecai look to that, it is no business of ours, at least it is none of mine; besides which, the story has a great deal the appearance of being fabulous, and is also anonymous. i pass on to the book of job. the book of job differs in character from all the books we have hitherto passed over. treachery and murder make no part of this book; it is the meditations of a mind strongly impressed with the vicissitudes of human life, and by turns sinking under, and struggling against the pressure. it is a highly wrought composition, between willing submission and involuntary discontent; and shows man, as he sometimes is, more disposed to be resigned than he is capable of being. patience has but a small share in the character of the person of whom the book treats; on the contrary, his grief is often impetuous; but he still endeavours to keep a guard upon it, and seems determined, in the midst of accumulating ills, to impose upon himself the hard duty of contentment. i have spoken in a respectful manner of the book of job in the former part of the 'age of reason,' but without knowing at that time what i have learned since; which is, that from all the evidence that can be collected, the book of job does not belong to the bible. i have seen the opinion of two hebrew commentators, abenezra and spinoza, upon this subject; they both say that the book of job carries no internal evidence of being an hebrew book; that the genius of the composition, and the drama of the piece, are not hebrew; that it has been translated from another language into hebrew, and that the author of the book was a gentile; that the character represented under the name of satan (which is the first and only time this name is mentioned in the bible) [in a later work paine notes that in "the bible" (by which he always means the old testament alone) the word satan occurs also in chron. xxi. , and remarks that the action there ascribed to satan is in sam. xxiv. , attributed to jehovah ("essay on dreams"). in these places, however, and in ps. cix. , satan means "adversary," and is so translated (a.s. version) in sam. xix. , and kings v. , xi. . as a proper name, with the article, satan appears in the old testament only in job and in zech. iii. , . but the authenticity of the passage in zechariah has been questioned, and it may be that in finding the proper name of satan in job alone, paine was following some opinion met with in one of the authorities whose comments are condensed in his paragraph.--editor.] does not correspond to any hebrew idea; and that the two convocations which the deity is supposed to have made of those whom the poem calls sons of god, and the familiarity which this supposed satan is stated to have with the deity, are in the same case. it may also be observed, that the book shows itself to be the production of a mind cultivated in science, which the jews, so far from being famous for, were very ignorant of. the allusions to objects of natural philosophy are frequent and strong, and are of a different cast to any thing in the books known to be hebrew. the astronomical names, pleiades, orion, and arcturus, are greek and not hebrew names, and it does not appear from any thing that is to be found in the bible that the jews knew any thing of astronomy, or that they studied it, they had no translation of those names into their own language, but adopted the names as they found them in the poem. [paine's jewish critic, david levi, fastened on this slip ("defence of the old testament," , p. ). in the original the names are ash (arcturus), kesil' (orion), kimah' (pleiades), though the identifications of the constellations in the a.s.v. have been questioned.--editor.] that the jews did translate the literary productions of the gentile nations into the hebrew language, and mix them with their own, is not a matter of doubt; proverbs xxxi. i, is an evidence of this: it is there said, the word of king lemuel, the prophecy which his mother taught him. this verse stands as a preface to the proverbs that follow, and which are not the proverbs of solomon, but of lemuel; and this lemuel was not one of the kings of israel, nor of judah, but of some other country, and consequently a gentile. the jews however have adopted his proverbs; and as they cannot give any account who the author of the book of job was, nor how they came by the book, and as it differs in character from the hebrew writings, and stands totally unconnected with every other book and chapter in the bible before it and after it, it has all the circumstantial evidence of being originally a book of the gentiles. [the prayer known by the name of agur's prayer, in proverbs xxx.,--immediately preceding the proverbs of lemuel,--and which is the only sensible, well-conceived, and well-expressed prayer in the bible, has much the appearance of being a prayer taken from the gentiles. the name of agur occurs on no other occasion than this; and he is introduced, together with the prayer ascribed to him, in the same manner, and nearly in the same words, that lemuel and his proverbs are introduced in the chapter that follows. the first verse says, "the words of agur, the son of jakeh, even the prophecy:" here the word prophecy is used with the same application it has in the following chapter of lemuel, unconnected with anything of prediction. the prayer of agur is in the th and th verses, "remove far from me vanity and lies; give me neither riches nor poverty, but feed me with food convenient for me; lest i be full and deny thee and say, who is the lord? or lest i be poor and steal, and take the name of my god in vain." this has not any of the marks of being a jewish prayer, for the jews never prayed but when they were in trouble, and never for anything but victory, vengeance, or riches.--author. (prov. xxx. , and xxxi. ) the word "prophecy" in these verses is translated "oracle" or "burden" (marg.) in the revised version.--the prayer of agur was quoted by paine in his plea for the officers of excise, .--editor.] the bible-makers, and those regulators of time, the bible chronologists, appear to have been at a loss where to place and how to dispose of the book of job; for it contains no one historical circumstance, nor allusion to any, that might serve to determine its place in the bible. but it would not have answered the purpose of these men to have informed the world of their ignorance; and, therefore, they have affixed it to the aera of b.c. , which is during the time the israelites were in egypt, and for which they have just as much authority and no more than i should have for saying it was a thousand years before that period. the probability however is, that it is older than any book in the bible; and it is the only one that can be read without indignation or disgust. we know nothing of what the ancient gentile world (as it is called) was before the time of the jews, whose practice has been to calumniate and blacken the character of all other nations; and it is from the jewish accounts that we have learned to call them heathens. but, as far as we know to the contrary, they were a just and moral people, and not addicted, like the jews, to cruelty and revenge, but of whose profession of faith we are unacquainted. it appears to have been their custom to personify both virtue and vice by statues and images, as is done now-a-days both by statuary and by painting; but it does not follow from this that they worshipped them any more than we do.--i pass on to the book of, psalms, of which it is not necessary to make much observation. some of them are moral, and others are very revengeful; and the greater part relates to certain local circumstances of the jewish nation at the time they were written, with which we have nothing to do. it is, however, an error or an imposition to call them the psalms of david; they are a collection, as song-books are now-a-days, from different song-writers, who lived at different times. the th psalm could not have been written till more than years after the time of david, because it is written in commemoration of an event, the captivity of the jews in babylon, which did not happen till that distance of time. "by the rivers of babylon we sat down; yea, we wept when we remembered zion. we hanged our harps upon the willows, in the midst thereof; for there they that carried us away captive required of us a song, saying, sing us one of the songs of zion." as a man would say to an american, or to a frenchman, or to an englishman, sing us one of your american songs, or your french songs, or your english songs. this remark, with respect to the time this psalm was written, is of no other use than to show (among others already mentioned) the general imposition the world has been under with respect to the authors of the bible. no regard has been paid to time, place, and circumstance; and the names of persons have been affixed to the several books which it was as impossible they should write, as that a man should walk in procession at his own funeral. the book of proverbs. these, like the psalms, are a collection, and that from authors belonging to other nations than those of the jewish nation, as i have shewn in the observations upon the book of job; besides which, some of the proverbs ascribed to solomon did not appear till two hundred and fifty years after the death of solomon; for it is said in xxv. i, "these are also proverbs of solomon which the men of hezekiah, king of judah, copied out." it was two hundred and fifty years from the time of solomon to the time of hezekiah. when a man is famous and his name is abroad he is made the putative father of things he never said or did; and this, most probably, has been the case with solomon. it appears to have been the fashion of that day to make proverbs, as it is now to make jest-books, and father them upon those who never saw them. [a "tom paine's jest book" had appeared in london with little or nothing of paine in it.--editor.] the book of ecclesiastes, or the preacher, is also ascribed to solomon, and that with much reason, if not with truth. it is written as the solitary reflections of a worn-out debauchee, such as solomon was, who looking back on scenes he can no longer enjoy, cries out all is vanity! a great deal of the metaphor and of the sentiment is obscure, most probably by translation; but enough is left to show they were strongly pointed in the original. [those that look out of the window shall be darkened, is an obscure figure in translation for loss of sight.--author.] from what is transmitted to us of the character of solomon, he was witty, ostentatious, dissolute, and at last melancholy. he lived fast, and died, tired of the world, at the age of fifty-eight years. seven hundred wives, and three hundred concubines, are worse than none; and, however it may carry with it the appearance of heightened enjoyment, it defeats all the felicity of affection, by leaving it no point to fix upon; divided love is never happy. this was the case with solomon; and if he could not, with all his pretensions to wisdom, discover it beforehand, he merited, unpitied, the mortification he afterwards endured. in this point of view, his preaching is unnecessary, because, to know the consequences, it is only necessary to know the cause. seven hundred wives, and three hundred concubines would have stood in place of the whole book. it was needless after this to say that all was vanity and vexation of spirit; for it is impossible to derive happiness from the company of those whom we deprive of happiness. to be happy in old age it is necessary that we accustom ourselves to objects that can accompany the mind all the way through life, and that we take the rest as good in their day. the mere man of pleasure is miserable in old age; and the mere drudge in business is but little better: whereas, natural philosophy, mathematical and mechanical science, are a continual source of tranquil pleasure, and in spite of the gloomy dogmas of priests, and of superstition, the study of those things is the study of the true theology; it teaches man to know and to admire the creator, for the principles of science are in the creation, and are unchangeable, and of divine origin. those who knew benjamin franklin will recollect, that his mind was ever young; his temper ever serene; science, that never grows grey, was always his mistress. he was never without an object; for when we cease to have an object we become like an invalid in an hospital waiting for death. solomon's songs, amorous and foolish enough, but which wrinkled fanaticism has called divine.--the compilers of the bible have placed these songs after the book of ecclesiastes; and the chronologists have affixed to them the aera of b.c. , at which time solomon, according to the same chronology, was nineteen years of age, and was then forming his seraglio of wives and concubines. the bible-makers and the chronologists should have managed this matter a little better, and either have said nothing about the time, or chosen a time less inconsistent with the supposed divinity of those songs; for solomon was then in the honey-moon of one thousand debaucheries. it should also have occurred to them, that as he wrote, if he did write, the book of ecclesiastes, long after these songs, and in which he exclaims that all is vanity and vexation of spirit, that he included those songs in that description. this is the more probable, because he says, or somebody for him, ecclesiastes ii. , i got me men-singers, and women-singers [most probably to sing those songs], and musical instruments of all sorts; and behold (ver. ii), "all was vanity and vexation of spirit." the compilers however have done their work but by halves; for as they have given us the songs they should have given us the tunes, that we might sing them. the books called the books of the prophets fill up all the remaining part of the bible; they are sixteen in number, beginning with isaiah and ending with malachi, of which i have given a list in the observations upon chronicles. of these sixteen prophets, all of whom except the last three lived within the time the books of kings and chronicles were written, two only, isaiah and jeremiah, are mentioned in the history of those books. i shall begin with those two, reserving, what i have to say on the general character of the men called prophets to another part of the work. whoever will take the trouble of reading the book ascribed to isaiah, will find it one of the most wild and disorderly compositions ever put together; it has neither beginning, middle, nor end; and, except a short historical part, and a few sketches of history in the first two or three chapters, is one continued incoherent, bombastical rant, full of extravagant metaphor, without application, and destitute of meaning; a school-boy would scarcely have been excusable for writing such stuff; it is (at least in translation) that kind of composition and false taste that is properly called prose run mad. the historical part begins at chapter xxxvi., and is continued to the end of chapter xxxix. it relates some matters that are said to have passed during the reign of hezekiah, king of judah, at which time isaiah lived. this fragment of history begins and ends abruptly; it has not the least connection with the chapter that precedes it, nor with that which follows it, nor with any other in the book. it is probable that isaiah wrote this fragment himself, because he was an actor in the circumstances it treats of; but except this part there are scarcely two chapters that have any connection with each other. one is entitled, at the beginning of the first verse, the burden of babylon; another, the burden of moab; another, the burden of damascus; another, the burden of egypt; another, the burden of the desert of the sea; another, the burden of the valley of vision: as you would say the story of the knight of the burning mountain, the story of cinderella, or the glassen slipper, the story of the sleeping beauty in the wood, etc., etc. i have already shown, in the instance of the last two verses of chronicles, and the first three in ezra, that the compilers of the bible mixed and confounded the writings of different authors with each other; which alone, were there no other cause, is sufficient to destroy the authenticity of an compilation, because it is more than presumptive evidence that the compilers are ignorant who the authors were. a very glaring instance of this occurs in the book ascribed to isaiah: the latter part of the th chapter, and the beginning of the th, so far from having been written by isaiah, could only have been written by some person who lived at least an hundred and fifty years after isaiah was dead. these chapters are a compliment to cyrus, who permitted the jews to return to jerusalem from the babylonian captivity, to rebuild jerusalem and the temple, as is stated in ezra. the last verse of the th chapter, and the beginning of the th [isaiah] are in the following words: "that saith of cyrus, he is my shepherd, and shall perform all my pleasure; even saying to jerusalem, thou shalt be built; and to the temple thy foundations shall be laid: thus saith the lord to his enointed, to cyrus, whose right hand i have holden to subdue nations before him, and i will loose the loins of kings to open before him the two-leaved gates, and the gates shall not be shut; i will go before thee," etc. what audacity of church and priestly ignorance it is to impose this book upon the world as the writing of isaiah, when isaiah, according to their own chronology, died soon after the death of hezekiah, which was b.c. ; and the decree of cyrus, in favour of the jews returning to jerusalem, was, according to the same chronology, b.c. ; which is a distance of time between the two of years. i do not suppose that the compilers of the bible made these books, but rather that they picked up some loose, anonymous essays, and put them together under the names of such authors as best suited their purpose. they have encouraged the imposition, which is next to inventing it; for it was impossible but they must have observed it. when we see the studied craft of the scripture-makers, in making every part of this romantic book of school-boy's eloquence bend to the monstrous idea of a son of god, begotten by a ghost on the body of a virgin, there is no imposition we are not justified in suspecting them of. every phrase and circumstance are marked with the barbarous hand of superstitious torture, and forced into meanings it was impossible they could have. the head of every chapter, and the top of every page, are blazoned with the names of christ and the church, that the unwary reader might suck in the error before he began to read. behold a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son (isa. vii. i ), has been interpreted to mean the person called jesus christ, and his mother mary, and has been echoed through christendom for more than a thousand years; and such has been the rage of this opinion, that scarcely a spot in it but has been stained with blood and marked with desolation in consequence of it. though it is not my intention to enter into controversy on subjects of this kind, but to confine myself to show that the bible is spurious,--and thus, by taking away the foundation, to overthrow at once the whole structure of superstition raised thereon,--i will however stop a moment to expose the fallacious application of this passage. whether isaiah was playing a trick with ahaz, king of judah, to whom this passage is spoken, is no business of mine; i mean only to show the misapplication of the passage, and that it has no more reference to christ and his mother, than it has to me and my mother. the story is simply this: the king of syria and the king of israel (i have already mentioned that the jews were split into two nations, one of which was called judah, the capital of which was jerusalem, and the other israel) made war jointly against ahaz, king of judah, and marched their armies towards jerusalem. ahaz and his people became alarmed, and the account says (is. vii. ), their hearts were moved as the trees of the wood are moved with the wind. in this situation of things, isaiah addresses himself to ahaz, and assures him in the name of the lord (the cant phrase of all the prophets) that these two kings should not succeed against him; and to satisfy ahaz that this should be the case, tells him to ask a sign. this, the account says, ahaz declined doing; giving as a reason that he would not tempt the lord; upon which isaiah, who is the speaker, says, ver. , "therefore the lord himself shall give you a sign; behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son;" and the th verse says, "and before this child shall know to refuse the evil, and choose the good, the land which thou abhorrest or dreadest [meaning syria and the kingdom of israel] shall be forsaken of both her kings." here then was the sign, and the time limited for the completion of the assurance or promise; namely, before this child shall know to refuse the evil and choose the good. isaiah having committed himself thus far, it became necessary to him, in order to avoid the imputation of being a false prophet, and the consequences thereof, to take measures to make this sign appear. it certainly was not a difficult thing, in any time of the world, to find a girl with child, or to make her so; and perhaps isaiah knew of one beforehand; for i do not suppose that the prophets of that day were any more to be trusted than the priests of this: be that, however, as it may, he says in the next chapter, ver. , "and i took unto me faithful witnesses to record, uriah the priest, and zechariah the son of jeberechiah, and i went unto the prophetess, and she conceived and bare a son." here then is the whole story, foolish as it is, of this child and this virgin; and it is upon the barefaced perversion of this story that the book of matthew, and the impudence and sordid interest of priests in later times, have founded a theory, which they call the gospel; and have applied this story to signify the person they call jesus christ; begotten, they say, by a ghost, whom they call holy, on the body of a woman engaged in marriage, and afterwards married, whom they call a virgin, seven hundred years after this foolish story was told; a theory which, speaking for myself, i hesitate not to believe, and to say, is as fabulous and as false as god is true. [in is. vii. , it is said that the child should be called immanuel; but this name was not given to either of the children, otherwise than as a character, which the word signifies. that of the prophetess was called maher-shalalhash-baz, and that of mary was called jesus.--author.] but to show the imposition and falsehood of isaiah we have only to attend to the sequel of this story; which, though it is passed over in silence in the book of isaiah, is related in chronicles, xxviii; and which is, that instead of these two kings failing in their attempt against ahaz, king of judah, as isaiah had pretended to foretel in the name of the lord, they succeeded: ahaz was defeated and destroyed; an hundred and twenty thousand of his people were slaughtered; jerusalem was plundered, and two hundred thousand women and sons and daughters carried into captivity. thus much for this lying prophet and imposter isaiah, and the book of falsehoods that bears his name. i pass on to the book of jeremiah. this prophet, as he is called, lived in the time that nebuchadnezzar besieged jerusalem, in the reign of zedekiah, the last king of judah; and the suspicion was strong against him that he was a traitor in the interest of nebuchadnezzar. every thing relating to jeremiah shows him to have been a man of an equivocal character: in his metaphor of the potter and the clay, (ch. xviii.) he guards his prognostications in such a crafty manner as always to leave himself a door to escape by, in case the event should be contrary to what he had predicted. in the th and th verses he makes the almighty to say, "at what instant i shall speak concerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom, to pluck up, and to pull down, and destroy it, if that nation, against whom i have pronounced, turn from their evil, i will repent me of the evil that i thought to do unto them." here was a proviso against one side of the case: now for the other side. verses and , "at what instant i shall speak concerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom, to build and to plant it, if it do evil in my sight, that it obey not my voice, then i will repent me of the good wherewith i said i would benefit them." here is a proviso against the other side; and, according to this plan of prophesying, a prophet could never be wrong, however mistaken the almighty might be. this sort of absurd subterfuge, and this manner of speaking of the almighty, as one would speak of a man, is consistent with nothing but the stupidity of the bible. as to the authenticity of the book, it is only necessary to read it in order to decide positively that, though some passages recorded therein may have been spoken by jeremiah, he is not the author of the book. the historical parts, if they can be called by that name, are in the most confused condition; the same events are several times repeated, and that in a manner different, and sometimes in contradiction to each other; and this disorder runs even to the last chapter, where the history, upon which the greater part of the book has been employed, begins anew, and ends abruptly. the book has all the appearance of being a medley of unconnected anecdotes respecting persons and things of that time, collected together in the same rude manner as if the various and contradictory accounts that are to be found in a bundle of newspapers, respecting persons and things of the present day, were put together without date, order, or explanation. i will give two or three examples of this kind. it appears, from the account of chapter xxxvii. that the army of nebuchadnezzer, which is called the army of the chaldeans, had besieged jerusalem some time; and on their hearing that the army of pharaoh of egypt was marching against them, they raised the siege and retreated for a time. it may here be proper to mention, in order to understand this confused history, that nebuchadnezzar had besieged and taken jerusalem during the reign of jehoakim, the redecessor of zedekiah; and that it was nebuchadnezzar who had make zedekiah king, or rather viceroy; and that this second siege, of which the book of jeremiah treats, was in consequence of the revolt of zedekiah against nebuchadnezzar. this will in some measure account for the suspicion that affixes itself to jeremiah of being a traitor, and in the interest of nebuchadnezzar,--whom jeremiah calls, xliii. , the servant of god. chapter xxxvii. - , says, "and it came to pass, that, when the army of the chaldeans was broken up from jerusalem, for fear of pharaoh's army, that jeremiah went forth out of jerusalem, to go (as this account states) into the land of benjamin, to separate himself thence in the midst of the people; and when he was in the gate of benjamin a captain of the ward was there, whose name was irijah... and he took jeremiah the prophet, saying, thou fallest away to the chaldeans; then jeremiah said, it is false; i fall not away to the chaldeans." jeremiah being thus stopt and accused, was, after being examined, committed to prison, on suspicion of being a traitor, where he remained, as is stated in the last verse of this chapter. but the next chapter gives an account of the imprisonment of jeremiah, which has no connection with this account, but ascribes his imprisonment to another circumstance, and for which we must go back to chapter xxi. it is there stated, ver. , that zedekiah sent pashur the son of malchiah, and zephaniah the son of maaseiah the priest, to jeremiah, to enquire of him concerning nebuchadnezzar, whose army was then before jerusalem; and jeremiah said to them, ver. , "thus saith the lord, behold i set before you the way of life, and the way of death; he that abideth in this city shall die by the sword and by the famine, and by the pestilence; but he that goeth out and falleth to the chaldeans that besiege you, he shall live, and his life shall be unto him for a prey." this interview and conference breaks off abruptly at the end of the th verse of chapter xxi.; and such is the disorder of this book that we have to pass over sixteen chapters upon various subjects, in order to come at the continuation and event of this conference; and this brings us to the first verse of chapter xxxviii., as i have just mentioned. the chapter opens with saying, "then shaphatiah, the son of mattan, gedaliah the son of pashur, and jucal the son of shelemiah, and pashur the son of malchiah, (here are more persons mentioned than in chapter xxi.) heard the words that jeremiah spoke unto all the people, saying, thus saith the lord, he that remaineth in this city, shall die by the sword, by famine, and by the pestilence; but he that goeth forth to the chaldeans shall live; for he shall have his life for a prey, and shall live"; [which are the words of the conference;] therefore, (say they to zedekiah,) "we beseech thee, let this man be put to death, for thus he weakeneth the hands of the men of war that remain in this city, and the hands of all the people, in speaking such words unto them; for this man seeketh not the welfare of the people, but the hurt:" and at the th verse it is said, "then they took jeremiah, and put him into the dungeon of malchiah." these two accounts are different and contradictory. the one ascribes his imprisonment to his attempt to escape out of the city; the other to his preaching and prophesying in the city; the one to his being seized by the guard at the gate; the other to his being accused before zedekiah by the conferees. [i observed two chapters in i samuel (xvi. and xvii.) that contradict each other with respect to david, and the manner he became acquainted with saul; as jeremiah xxxvii. and xxxviii. contradict each other with respect to the cause of jeremiah's imprisonment. in samuel, xvi., it is said, that an evil spirit of god troubled saul, and that his servants advised him (as a remedy) "to seek out a man who was a cunning player upon the harp." and saul said, ver. , "provide me now a man that can play well, and bring him to me. then answered one of his servants, and said, behold, i have seen a son of jesse, the bethlehemite, that is cunning in playing, and a mighty man, and a man of war, and prudent in matters, and a comely person, and the lord is with him; wherefore saul sent messengers unto jesse, and said, send me david, thy son. and (verse ) david came to saul, and stood before him, and he loved him greatly, and he became his armour-bearer; and when the evil spirit from god was upon saul, (verse ) david took his harp, and played with his hand, and saul was refreshed, and was well." but the next chapter (xvii.) gives an account, all different to this, of the manner that saul and david became acquainted. here it is ascribed to david's encounter with goliah, when david was sent by his father to carry provision to his brethren in the camp. in the th verse of this chapter it is said, "and when saul saw david go forth against the philistine (goliah) he said to abner, the captain of the host, abner, whose son is this youth? and abner said, as thy soul liveth, king, i cannot tell. and the king said, enquire thou whose son the stripling is. and as david returned from the slaughter of the philistine, abner took him and brought him before saul, with the head of the philistine in his hand; and saul said unto him, whose son art thou, thou young man? and david answered, i am the son of thy servant, jesse, the betblehemite," these two accounts belie each other, because each of them supposes saul and david not to have known each other before. this book, the bible, is too ridiculous for criticism.--author.] in the next chapter (jer. xxxix.) we have another instance of the disordered state of this book; for notwithstanding the siege of the city by nebuchadnezzar has been the subject of several of the preceding chapters, particularly xxxvii. and xxxviii., chapter xxxix. begins as if not a word had been said upon the subject, and as if the reader was still to be informed of every particular respecting it; for it begins with saying, ver. , "in the ninth year of zedekiah king of judah, in the tenth month, came nebuchadnezzar king of babylon, and all his army, against jerusalem, and besieged it," etc. but the instance in the last chapter (lii.) is still more glaring; for though the story has been told over and over again, this chapter still supposes the reader not to know anything of it, for it begins by saying, ver. i, "zedekiah was one and twenty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned eleven years in jerusalem, and his mother's name was hamutal, the daughter of jeremiah of libnah." (ver. ,) "and it came to pass in the ninth year of his reign, in the tenth month, that nebuchadnezzar king of babylon came, he and all his army, against jerusalem, and pitched against it, and built forts against it," etc. it is not possible that any one man, and more particularly jeremiah, could have been the writer of this book. the errors are such as could not have been committed by any person sitting down to compose a work. were i, or any other man, to write in such a disordered manner, no body would read what was written, and every body would suppose that the writer was in a state of insanity. the only way, therefore, to account for the disorder is, that the book is a medley of detached unauthenticated anecdotes, put together by some stupid book-maker, under the name of jeremiah; because many of them refer to him, and to the circumstances of the times he lived in. of the duplicity, and of the false predictions of jeremiah, i shall mention two instances, and then proceed to review the remainder of the bible. it appears from chapter xxxviii. that when jeremiah was in prison, zedekiah sent for him, and at this interview, which was private, jeremiah pressed it strongly on zedekiah to surrender himself to the enemy. "if," says he, (ver. ,) "thou wilt assuredly go forth unto the king of babylon's princes, then thy soul shall live," etc. zedekiah was apprehensive that what passed at this conference should be known; and he said to jeremiah, (ver. ,) "if the princes [meaning those of judah] hear that i have talked with thee, and they come unto thee, and say unto thee, declare unto us now what thou hast said unto the king; hide it not from us, and we will not put thee to death; and also what the king said unto thee; then thou shalt say unto them, i presented my supplication before the king that he would not cause me to return to jonathan's house, to die there. then came all the princes unto jeremiah, and asked him, and "he told them according to all the words the king had commanded." thus, this man of god, as he is called, could tell a lie, or very strongly prevaricate, when he supposed it would answer his purpose; for certainly he did not go to zedekiah to make this supplication, neither did he make it; he went because he was sent for, and he employed that opportunity to advise zedekiah to surrender himself to nebuchadnezzar. in chapter xxxiv. - , is a prophecy of jeremiah to zedekiah in these words: "thus saith the lord, behold i will give this city into the hand of the king of babylon, and he will burn it with fire; and thou shalt not escape out of his hand, but thou shalt surely be taken, and delivered into his hand; and thine eyes shall behold the eyes of the king of babylon, and he shall speak with thee mouth to mouth, and thou shalt go to babylon. yet hear the word of the lord; o zedekiah, king, of judah, thus saith the lord, thou shalt not die by the sword, but thou shalt die in peace; and with the burnings of thy fathers, the former kings that were before thee, so shall they burn odours for thee, and they will lament thee, saying, ah, lord! for i have pronounced the word, saith the lord." now, instead of zedekiah beholding the eyes of the king of babylon, and speaking with him mouth to mouth, and dying in peace, and with the burning of odours, as at the funeral of his fathers, (as jeremiah had declared the lord himself had pronounced,) the reverse, according to chapter iii., , was the case; it is there said, that the king of babylon slew the sons of zedekiah before his eyes: then he put out the eyes of zedekiah, and bound him in chains, and carried him to babylon, and put him in prison till the day of his death. what then can we say of these prophets, but that they are impostors and liars? as for jeremiah, he experienced none of those evils. he was taken into favour by nebuchadnezzar, who gave him in charge to the captain of the guard (xxxix, ), "take him (said he) and look well to him, and do him no harm; but do unto him even as he shall say unto thee." jeremiah joined himself afterwards to nebuchadnezzar, and went about prophesying for him against the egyptians, who had marched to the relief of jerusalem while it was besieged. thus much for another of the lying prophets, and the book that bears his name. i have been the more particular in treating of the books ascribed to isaiah and jeremiah, because those two are spoken of in the books of kings and chronicles, which the others are not. the remainder of the books ascribed to the men called prophets i shall not trouble myself much about; but take them collectively into the observations i shall offer on the character of the men styled prophets. in the former part of the 'age of reason,' i have said that the word prophet was the bible-word for poet, and that the flights and metaphors of jewish poets have been foolishly erected into what are now called prophecies. i am sufficiently justified in this opinion, not only because the books called the prophecies are written in poetical language, but because there is no word in the bible, except it be the word prophet, that describes what we mean by a poet. i have also said, that the word signified a performer upon musical instruments, of which i have given some instances; such as that of a company of prophets, prophesying with psalteries, with tabrets, with pipes, with harps, etc., and that saul prophesied with them, sam. x., . it appears from this passage, and from other parts in the book of samuel, that the word prophet was confined to signify poetry and music; for the person who was supposed to have a visionary insight into concealed things, was not a prophet but a seer, [i know not what is the hebrew word that corresponds to the word seer in english; but i observe it is translated into french by le voyant, from the verb voir to see, and which means the person who sees, or the seer.--author.] [the hebrew word for seer, in samuel ix., transliterated, is chozeh, the gazer, it is translated in is. xlvii. , "the stargazers."--editor.] (i sam, ix. ;) and it was not till after the word seer went out of use (which most probably was when saul banished those he called wizards) that the profession of the seer, or the art of seeing, became incorporated into the word prophet. according to the modern meaning of the word prophet and prophesying, it signifies foretelling events to a great distance of time; and it became necessary to the inventors of the gospel to give it this latitude of meaning, in order to apply or to stretch what they call the prophecies of the old testament, to the times of the new. but according to the old testament, the prophesying of the seer, and afterwards of the prophet, so far as the meaning of the word "seer" was incorporated into that of prophet, had reference only to things of the time then passing, or very closely connected with it; such as the event of a battle they were going to engage in, or of a journey, or of any enterprise they were going to undertake, or of any circumstance then pending, or of any difficulty they were then in; all of which had immediate reference to themselves (as in the case already mentioned of ahaz and isaiah with respect to the expression, behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son,) and not to any distant future time. it was that kind of prophesying that corresponds to what we call fortune-telling; such as casting nativities, predicting riches, fortunate or unfortunate marriages, conjuring for lost goods, etc.; and it is the fraud of the christian church, not that of the jews, and the ignorance and the superstition of modern, not that of ancient times, that elevated those poetical, musical, conjuring, dreaming, strolling gentry, into the rank they have since had. but, besides this general character of all the prophets, they had also a particular character. they were in parties, and they prophesied for or against, according to the party they were with; as the poetical and political writers of the present day write in defence of the party they associate with against the other. after the jews were divided into two nations, that of judah and that of israel, each party had its prophets, who abused and accused each other of being false prophets, lying prophets, impostors, etc. the prophets of the party of judah prophesied against the prophets of the party of israel; and those of the party of israel against those of judah. this party prophesying showed itself immediately on the separation under the first two rival kings, rehoboam and jeroboam. the prophet that cursed, or prophesied against the altar that jeroboam had built in bethel, was of the party of judah, where rehoboam was king; and he was way-laid on his return home by a prophet of the party of israel, who said unto him (i kings xiii.) "art thou the man of god that came from judah? and he said, i am." then the prophet of the party of israel said to him "i am a prophet also, as thou art, [signifying of judah,] and an angel spake unto me by the word of the lord, saying, bring him back with thee unto thine house, that he may eat bread and drink water; but (says the th verse) he lied unto him." the event, however, according to the story, is, that the prophet of judah never got back to judah; for he was found dead on the road by the contrivance of the prophet of israel, who no doubt was called a true prophet by his own party, and the prophet of judah a lying prophet. in kings, iii., a story is related of prophesying or conjuring that shews, in several particulars, the character of a prophet. jehoshaphat king of judah, and joram king of israel, had for a while ceased their party animosity, and entered into an alliance; and these two, together with the king of edom, engaged in a war against the king of moab. after uniting and marching their armies, the story says, they were in great distress for water, upon which jehoshaphat said, "is there not here a prophet of the lord, that we may enquire of the lord by him? and one of the servants of the king of israel said here is elisha. [elisha was of the party of judah.] and jehoshaphat the king of judah said, the word of the lord is with him." the story then says, that these three kings went down to elisha; and when elisha [who, as i have said, was a judahmite prophet] saw the king of israel, he said unto him, "what have i to do with thee, get thee to the prophets of thy father and the prophets of thy mother. nay but, said the king of israel, the lord hath called these three kings together, to deliver them into the hands of the king of moab," (meaning because of the distress they were in for water;) upon which elisha said, "as the lord of hosts liveth before whom i stand, surely, were it not that i regard the presence of jehoshaphat, king of judah, i would not look towards thee nor see thee." here is all the venom and vulgarity of a party prophet. we are now to see the performance, or manner of prophesying. ver. . "'bring me,' (said elisha), 'a minstrel'; and it came to pass, when the minstrel played, that the hand of the lord came upon him." here is the farce of the conjurer. now for the prophecy: "and elisha said, [singing most probably to the tune he was playing], thus saith the lord, make this valley full of ditches;" which was just telling them what every countryman could have told them without either fiddle or farce, that the way to get water was to dig for it. but as every conjuror is not famous alike for the same thing, so neither were those prophets; for though all of them, at least those i have spoken of, were famous for lying, some of them excelled in cursing. elisha, whom i have just mentioned, was a chief in this branch of prophesying; it was he that cursed the forty-two children in the name of the lord, whom the two she-bears came and devoured. we are to suppose that those children were of the party of israel; but as those who will curse will lie, there is just as much credit to be given to this story of elisha's two she-bears as there is to that of the dragon of wantley, of whom it is said: poor children three devoured be, that could not with him grapple; and at one sup he eat them up, as a man would eat an apple. there was another description of men called prophets, that amused themselves with dreams and visions; but whether by night or by day we know not. these, if they were not quite harmless, were but little mischievous. of this class are, ezekiel and daniel; and the first question upon these books, as upon all the others, is, are they genuine? that is, were they written by ezekiel and daniel? of this there is no proof; but so far as my own opinion goes, i am more inclined to believe they were, than that they were not. my reasons for this opinion are as follows: first, because those books do not contain internal evidence to prove they were not written by ezekiel and daniel, as the books ascribed to moses, joshua, samuel, etc., prove they were not written by moses, joshua, samuel, etc. secondly, because they were not written till after the babylonish captivity began; and there is good reason to believe that not any book in the bible was written before that period; at least it is proveable, from the books themselves, as i have already shown, that they were not written till after the commencement of the jewish monarchy. thirdly, because the manner in which the books ascribed to ezekiel and daniel are written, agrees with the condition these men were in at the time of writing them. had the numerous commentators and priests, who have foolishly employed or wasted their time in pretending to expound and unriddle those books, been carred into captivity, as ezekiel and daniel were, it would greatly have improved their intellects in comprehending the reason for this mode of writing, and have saved them the trouble of racking their invention, as they have done to no purpose; for they would have found that themselves would be obliged to write whatever they had to write, respecting their own affairs, or those of their friends, or of their country, in a concealed manner, as those men have done. these two books differ from all the rest; for it is only these that are filled with accounts of dreams and visions: and this difference arose from the situation the writers were in as prisoners of war, or prisoners of state, in a foreign country, which obliged them to convey even the most trifling information to each other, and all their political projects or opinions, in obscure and metaphorical terms. they pretend to have dreamed dreams, and seen visions, because it was unsafe for them to speak facts or plain language. we ought, however, to suppose, that the persons to whom they wrote understood what they meant, and that it was not intended anybody else should. but these busy commentators and priests have been puzzling their wits to find out what it was not intended they should know, and with which they have nothing to do. ezekiel and daniel were carried prisoners to babylon, under the first captivity, in the time of jehoiakim, nine years before the second captivity in the time of zedekiah. the jews were then still numerous, and had considerable force at jerusalem; and as it is natural to suppose that men in the situation of ezekiel and daniel would be meditating the recovery of their country, and their own deliverance, it is reasonable to suppose that the accounts of dreams and visions with which these books are filled, are no other than a disguised mode of correspondence to facilitate those objects: it served them as a cypher, or secret alphabet. if they are not this, they are tales, reveries, and nonsense; or at least a fanciful way of wearing off the wearisomeness of captivity; but the presumption is, they are the former. ezekiel begins his book by speaking of a vision of cherubims, and of a wheel within a wheel, which he says he saw by the river chebar, in the land of his captivity. is it not reasonable to suppose that by the cherubims he meant the temple at jerusalem, where they had figures of cherubims? and by a wheel within a wheel (which as a figure has always been understood to signify political contrivance) the project or means of recovering jerusalem? in the latter part of his book he supposes himself transported to jerusalem, and into the temple; and he refers back to the vision on the river chebar, and says, (xliii- ,) that this last vision was like the vision on the river chebar; which indicates that those pretended dreams and visions had for their object the recovery of jerusalem, and nothing further. as to the romantic interpretations and applications, wild as the dreams and visions they undertake to explain, which commentators and priests have made of those books, that of converting them into things which they call prophecies, and making them bend to times and circumstances as far remote even as the present day, it shows the fraud or the extreme folly to which credulity or priestcraft can go. scarcely anything can be more absurd than to suppose that men situated as ezekiel and daniel were, whose country was over-run, and in the possession of the enemy, all their friends and relations in captivity abroad, or in slavery at home, or massacred, or in continual danger of it; scarcely any thing, i say, can be more absurd than to suppose that such men should find nothing to do but that of employing their time and their thoughts about what was to happen to other nations a thousand or two thousand years after they were dead; at the same time nothing more natural than that they should meditate the recovery of jerusalem, and their own deliverance; and that this was the sole object of all the obscure and apparently frantic writing contained in those books. in this sense the mode of writing used in those two books being forced by necessity, and not adopted by choice, is not irrational; but, if we are to use the books as prophecies, they are false. in ezekiel xxix. ., speaking of egypt, it is said, "no foot of man shall pass through it, nor foot of beast pass through it; neither shall it be inhabited for forty years." this is what never came to pass, and consequently it is false, as all the books i have already reviewed are.--i here close this part of the subject. in the former part of 'the age of reason' i have spoken of jonah, and of the story of him and the whale.--a fit story for ridicule, if it was written to be believed; or of laughter, if it was intended to try what credulity could swallow; for, if it could swallow jonah and the whale it could swallow anything. but, as is already shown in the observations on the book of job and of proverbs, it is not always certain which of the books in the bible are originally hebrew, or only translations from the books of the gentiles into hebrew; and, as the book of jonah, so far from treating of the affairs of the jews, says nothing upon that subject, but treats altogether of the gentiles, it is more probable that it is a book of the gentiles than of the jews, [i have read in an ancient persian poem (saadi, i believe, but have mislaid the reference) this phrase: "and now the whale swallowed jonah: the sun set."--editor.] and that it has been written as a fable to expose the nonsense, and satyrize the vicious and malignant character, of a bible-prophet, or a predicting priest. jonah is represented, first as a disobedient prophet, running away from his mission, and taking shelter aboard a vessel of the gentiles, bound from joppa to tarshish; as if he ignorantly supposed, by such a paltry contrivance, he could hide himself where god could not find him. the vessel is overtaken by a storm at sea; and the mariners, all of whom are gentiles, believing it to be a judgement on account of some one on board who had committed a crime, agreed to cast lots to discover the offender; and the lot fell upon jonah. but before this they had cast all their wares and merchandise over-board to lighten the vessel, while jonah, like a stupid fellow, was fast asleep in the hold. after the lot had designated jonah to be the offender, they questioned him to know who and what he was? and he told them he was an hebrew; and the story implies that he confessed himself to be guilty. but these gentiles, instead of sacrificing him at once without pity or mercy, as a company of bible-prophets or priests would have done by a gentile in the same case, and as it is related samuel had done by agag, and moses by the women and children, they endeavoured to save him, though at the risk of their own lives: for the account says, "nevertheless [that is, though jonah was a jew and a foreigner, and the cause of all their misfortunes, and the loss of their cargo] the men rowed hard to bring the boat to land, but they could not, for the sea wrought and was tempestuous against them." still however they were unwilling to put the fate of the lot into execution; and they cried, says the account, unto the lord, saying, "we beseech thee, o lord, let us not perish for this man's life, and lay not upon us innocent blood; for thou, o lord, hast done as it pleased thee." meaning thereby, that they did not presume to judge jonah guilty, since that he might be innocent; but that they considered the lot that had fallen upon him as a decree of god, or as it pleased god. the address of this prayer shows that the gentiles worshipped one supreme being, and that they were not idolaters as the jews represented them to be. but the storm still continuing, and the danger encreasing, they put the fate of the lot into execution, and cast jonah in the sea; where, according to the story, a great fish swallowed him up whole and alive! we have now to consider jonah securely housed from the storm in the fish's belly. here we are told that he prayed; but the prayer is a made-up prayer, taken from various parts of the psalms, without connection or consistency, and adapted to the distress, but not at all to the condition that jonah was in. it is such a prayer as a gentile, who might know something of the psalms, could copy out for him. this circumstance alone, were there no other, is sufficient to indicate that the whole is a made-up story. the prayer, however, is supposed to have answered the purpose, and the story goes on, (taking-off at the same time the cant language of a bible-prophet,) saying, "the lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out jonah upon dry land." jonah then received a second mission to nineveh, with which he sets out; and we have now to consider him as a preacher. the distress he is represented to have suffered, the remembrance of his own disobedience as the cause of it, and the miraculous escape he is supposed to have had, were sufficient, one would conceive, to have impressed him with sympathy and benevolence in the execution of his mission; but, instead of this, he enters the city with denunciation and malediction in his mouth, crying, "yet forty days, and nineveh shall be overthrown." we have now to consider this supposed missionary in the last act of his mission; and here it is that the malevolent spirit of a bible-prophet, or of a predicting priest, appears in all that blackness of character that men ascribe to the being they call the devil. having published his predictions, he withdrew, says the story, to the east side of the city.--but for what? not to contemplate in retirement the mercy of his creator to himself or to others, but to wait, with malignant impatience, the destruction of nineveh. it came to pass, however, as the story relates, that the ninevites reformed, and that god, according to the bible phrase, repented him of the evil he had said he would do unto them, and did it not. this, saith the first verse of the last chapter, displeased jonah exceedingly and he was very angry. his obdurate heart would rather that all nineveh should be destroyed, and every soul, young and old, perish in its ruins, than that his prediction should not be fulfilled. to expose the character of a prophet still more, a gourd is made to grow up in the night, that promises him an agreeable shelter from the heat of the sun, in the place to which he is retired; and the next morning it dies. here the rage of the prophet becomes excessive, and he is ready to destroy himself. "it is better, said he, for me to die than to live." this brings on a supposed expostulation between the almighty and the prophet; in which the former says, "doest thou well to be angry for the gourd? and jonah said, i do well to be angry even unto death. then said the lord, thou hast had pity on the gourd, for which thou hast not laboured, neither madest it to grow, which came up in a night, and perished in a night; and should not i spare nineveh, that great city, in which are more than threescore thousand persons, that cannot discern between their right hand and their left?" here is both the winding up of the satire, and the moral of the fable. as a satire, it strikes against the character of all the bible-prophets, and against all the indiscriminate judgements upon men, women and children, with which this lying book, the bible, is crowded; such as noah's flood, the destruction of the cities of sodom and gomorrah, the extirpation of the canaanites, even to suckling infants, and women with child; because the same reflection 'that there are more than threescore thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left,' meaning young children, applies to all their cases. it satirizes also the supposed partiality of the creator for one nation more than for another. as a moral, it preaches against the malevolent spirit of prediction; for as certainly as a man predicts ill, he becomes inclined to wish it. the pride of having his judgment right hardens his heart, till at last he beholds with satisfaction, or sees with disappointment, the accomplishment or the failure of his predictions.--this book ends with the same kind of strong and well-directed point against prophets, prophecies and indiscriminate judgements, as the chapter that benjamin franklin made for the bible, about abraham and the stranger, ends against the intolerant spirit of religious persecutions--thus much for the book jonah. [the story of abraham and the fire-worshipper, ascribed to franklin, is from saadi. (see my "sacred anthology," p. .) paine has often been called a "mere scoffer," but he seems to have been among the first to treat with dignity the book of jonah, so especially liable to the ridicule of superficial readers, and discern in it the highest conception of deity known to the old testament.--editor.] of the poetical parts of the bible, that are called prophecies, i have spoken in the former part of 'the age of reason,' and already in this, where i have said that the word for prophet is the bible-word for poet, and that the flights and metaphors of those poets, many of which have become obscure by the lapse of time and the change of circumstances, have been ridiculously erected into things called prophecies, and applied to purposes the writers never thought of. when a priest quotes any of those passages, he unriddles it agreeably to his own views, and imposes that explanation upon his congregation as the meaning of the writer. the whore of babylon has been the common whore of all the priests, and each has accused the other of keeping the strumpet; so well do they agree in their explanations. there now remain only a few books, which they call books of the lesser prophets; and as i have already shown that the greater are impostors, it would be cowardice to disturb the repose of the little ones. let them sleep, then, in the arms of their nurses, the priests, and both be forgotten together. i have now gone through the bible, as a man would go through a wood with an axe on his shoulder, and fell trees. here they lie; and the priests, if they can, may replant them. they may, perhaps, stick them in the ground, but they will never make them grow.--i pass on to the books of the new testament. chapter ii - the new testament the new testament, they tell us, is founded upon the prophecies of the old; if so, it must follow the fate of its foundation. as it is nothing extraordinary that a woman should be with child before she was married, and that the son she might bring forth should be executed, even unjustly, i see no reason for not believing that such a woman as mary, and such a man as joseph, and jesus, existed; their mere existence is a matter of indifference, about which there is no ground either to believe or to disbelieve, and which comes under the common head of, it may be so, and what then? the probability however is that there were such persons, or at least such as resembled them in part of the circumstances, because almost all romantic stories have been suggested by some actual circumstance; as the adventures of robinson crusoe, not a word of which is true, were suggested by the case of alexander selkirk. it is not then the existence or the non-existence, of the persons that i trouble myself about; it is the fable of jesus christ, as told in the new testament, and the wild and visionary doctrine raised thereon, against which i contend. the story, taking it as it is told, is blasphemously obscene. it gives an account of a young woman engaged to be married, and while under this engagement, she is, to speak plain language, debauched by a ghost, under the impious pretence, (luke i. ,) that "the holy ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the highest shall overshadow thee." notwithstanding which, joseph afterwards marries her, cohabits with her as his wife, and in his turn rivals the ghost. this is putting the story into intelligible language, and when told in this manner, there is not a priest but must be ashamed to own it. [mary, the supposed virgin, mother of jesus, had several other children, sons and daughters. see matt. xiii. , .--author.] obscenity in matters of faith, however wrapped up, is always a token of fable and imposture; for it is necessary to our serious belief in god, that we do not connect it with stories that run, as this does, into ludicrous interpretations. this story is, upon the face of it, the same kind of story as that of jupiter and leda, or jupiter and europa, or any of the amorous adventures of jupiter; and shews, as is already stated in the former part of 'the age of reason,' that the christian faith is built upon the heathen mythology. as the historical parts of the new testament, so far as concerns jesus christ, are confined to a very short space of time, less than two years, and all within the same country, and nearly to the same spot, the discordance of time, place, and circumstance, which detects the fallacy of the books of the old testament, and proves them to be impositions, cannot be expected to be found here in the same abundance. the new testament compared with the old, is like a farce of one act, in which there is not room for very numerous violations of the unities. there are, however, some glaring contradictions, which, exclusive of the fallacy of the pretended prophecies, are sufficient to show the story of jesus christ to be false. i lay it down as a position which cannot be controverted, first, that the agreement of all the parts of a story does not prove that story to be true, because the parts may agree, and the whole may be false; secondly, that the disagreement of the parts of a story proves the whole cannot be true. the agreement does not prove truth, but the disagreement proves falsehood positively. the history of jesus christ is contained in the four books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke, and john.--the first chapter of matthew begins with giving a genealogy of jesus christ; and in the third chapter of luke there is also given a genealogy of jesus christ. did these two agree, it would not prove the genealogy to be true, because it might nevertheless be a fabrication; but as they contradict each other in every particular, it proves falsehood absolutely. if matthew speaks truth, luke speaks falsehood; and if luke speaks truth, matthew speaks falsehood: and as there is no authority for believing one more than the other, there is no authority for believing either; and if they cannot be believed even in the very first thing they say, and set out to prove, they are not entitled to be believed in any thing they say afterwards. truth is an uniform thing; and as to inspiration and revelation, were we to admit it, it is impossible to suppose it can be contradictory. either then the men called apostles were imposters, or the books ascribed to them have been written by other persons, and fathered upon them, as is the case in the old testament. the book of matthew gives (i. ), a genealogy by name from david, up, through joseph, the husband of mary, to christ; and makes there to be twent eight generations. the book of luke gives also a genealogy by name from christ, through joseph the husband of mary, down to david, and makes there to be forty-three generations; besides which, there is only the two names of david and joseph that are alike in the two lists.--i here insert both genealogical lists, and for the sake of perspicuity and comparison, have placed them both in the same direction, that is, from joseph down to david. genealogy, according to genealogy, according to matthew. luke. christ christ joseph joseph jacob heli matthan matthat eleazer levi eliud melchl achim janna sadoc joseph azor mattathias eliakim amos abiud naum zorobabel esli salathiel nagge jechonias maath josias mattathias amon semei manasses joseph ezekias juda achaz joanna joatham rhesa ozias zorobabel joram salathiel josaphat neri asa melchi abia addi roboam cosam solomon elmodam david * er jose eliezer jorim matthat levi simeon juda joseph jonan eliakim melea menan mattatha nathan david [note: * from the birth of david to the birth of christ is upwards of years; and as the life-time of christ is not included, there are but full generations. to find therefore the average age of each person mentioned in the list, at the time his first son was born, it is only necessary to divide by , which gives years for each person. as the life-time of man was then but of the same extent it is now, it is an absurdity to suppose, that following generations should all be old bachelors, before they married; and the more so, when we are told that solomon, the next in succession to david, had a house full of wives and mistresses before he was twenty-one years of age. so far from this genealogy being a solemn truth, it is not even a reasonable lie. the list of luke gives about twenty-six years for the average age, and this is too much.--author.] now, if these men, matthew and luke, set out with a falsehood between them (as these two accounts show they do) in the very commencement of their history of jesus christ, and of who, and of what he was, what authority (as i have before asked) is there left for believing the strange things they tell us afterwards? if they cannot be believed in their account of his natural genealogy, how are we to believe them when they tell us he was the son of god, begotten by a ghost; and that an angel announced this in secret to his mother? if they lied in one genealogy, why are we to believe them in the other? if his natural genealogy be manufactured, which it certainly is, why are we not to suppose that his celestial genealogy is manufactured also, and that the whole is fabulous? can any man of serious reflection hazard his future happiness upon the belief of a story naturally impossible, repugnant to every idea of decency, and related by persons already detected of falsehood? is it not more safe that we stop ourselves at the plain, pure, and unmixed belief of one god, which is deism, than that we commit ourselves on an ocean of improbable, irrational, indecent, and contradictory tales? the first question, however, upon the books of the new testament, as upon those of the old, is, are they genuine? were they written by the persons to whom they are ascribed? for it is upon this ground only that the strange things related therein have been credited. upon this point, there is no direct proof for or against; and all that this state of a case proves is doubtfulness; and doubtfulness is the opposite of belief. the state, therefore, that the books are in, proves against themselves as far as this kind of proof can go. but, exclusive of this, the presumption is that the books called the evangelists, and ascribed to matthew, mark, luke, and john, were not written by matthew, mark, luke, and john; and that they are impositions. the disordered state of the history in these four books, the silence of one book upon matters related in the other, and the disagreement that is to be found among them, implies that they are the productions of some unconnected individuals, many years after the things they pretend to relate, each of whom made his own legend; and not the writings of men living intimately together, as the men called apostles are supposed to have done: in fine, that they have been manufactured, as the books of the old testament have been, by other persons than those whose names they bear. the story of the angel announcing what the church calls the immaculate conception, is not so much as mentioned in the books ascribed to mark, and john; and is differently related in matthew and luke. the former says the angel, appeared to joseph; the latter says, it was to mary; but either joseph or mary was the worst evidence that could have been thought of; for it was others that should have testified for them, and not they for themselves. were any girl that is now with child to say, and even to swear it, that she was gotten with child by a ghost, and that an angel told her so, would she be believed? certainly she would not. why then are we to believe the same thing of another girl whom we never saw, told by nobody knows who, nor when, nor where? how strange and inconsistent is it, that the same circumstance that would weaken the belief even of a probable story, should be given as a motive for believing this one, that has upon the face of it every token of absolute impossibility and imposture. the story of herod destroying all the children under two years old, belongs altogether to the book of matthew; not one of the rest mentions anything about it. had such a circumstance been true, the universality of it must have made it known to all the writers, and the thing would have been too striking to have been omitted by any. this writer tell us, that jesus escaped this slaughter, because joseph and mary were warned by an angel to flee with him into egypt; but he forgot to make provision for john [the baptist], who was then under two years of age. john, however, who staid behind, fared as well as jesus, who fled; and therefore the story circumstantially belies itself. not any two of these writers agree in reciting, exactly in the same words, the written inscription, short as it is, which they tell us was put over christ when he was crucified; and besides this, mark says, he was crucified at the third hour, (nine in the morning;) and john says it was the sixth hour, (twelve at noon.) [according to john, (xix. ) the sentence was not passed till about the sixth hour (noon,) and consequently the execution could not be till the afternoon; but mark (xv. ) says expressly that he was crucified at the third hour, (nine in the morning,)--author.] the inscription is thus stated in those books: matthew--this is jesus the king of the jews. mark--the king of the jews. luke--this is the king of the jews. john--jesus of nazareth the king of the jews. we may infer from these circumstances, trivial as they are, that those writers, whoever they were, and in whatever time they lived, were not present at the scene. the only one of the men called apostles who appears to have been near to the spot was peter, and when he was accused of being one of jesus's followers, it is said, (matthew xxvi. ,) "then peter began to curse and to swear, saying, i know not the man:" yet we are now called to believe the same peter, convicted, by their own account, of perjury. for what reason, or on what authority, should we do this? the accounts that are given of the circumstances, that they tell us attended the crucifixion, are differently related in those four books. the book ascribed to matthew says 'there was darkness over all the land from the sixth hour unto the ninth hour--that the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom--that there was an earthquake--that the rocks rent--that the graves opened, that the bodies of many of the saints that slept arose and came out of their graves after the resurrection, and went into the holy city and appeared unto many.' such is the account which this dashing writer of the book of matthew gives, but in which he is not supported by the writers of the other books. the writer of the book ascribed to mark, in detailing the circumstances of the crucifixion, makes no mention of any earthquake, nor of the rocks rending, nor of the graves opening, nor of the dead men walking out. the writer of the book of luke is silent also upon the same points. and as to the writer of the book of john, though he details all the circumstances of the crucifixion down to the burial of christ, he says nothing about either the darkness--the veil of the temple--the earthquake--the rocks--the graves--nor the dead men. now if it had been true that these things had happened, and if the writers of these books had lived at the time they did happen, and had been the persons they are said to be--namely, the four men called apostles, matthew, mark, luke, and john,--it was not possible for them, as true historians, even without the aid of inspiration, not to have recorded them. the things, supposing them to have been facts, were of too much notoriety not to have been known, and of too much importance not to have been told. all these supposed apostles must have been witnesses of the earthquake, if there had been any, for it was not possible for them to have been absent from it: the opening of the graves and resurrection of the dead men, and their walking about the city, is of still greater importance than the earthquake. an earthquake is always possible, and natural, and proves nothing; but this opening of the graves is supernatural, and directly in point to their doctrine, their cause, and their apostleship. had it been true, it would have filled up whole chapters of those books, and been the chosen theme and general chorus of all the writers; but instead of this, little and trivial things, and mere prattling conversation of 'he said this and she said that' are often tediously detailed, while this most important of all, had it been true, is passed off in a slovenly manner by a single dash of the pen, and that by one writer only, and not so much as hinted at by the rest. it is an easy thing to tell a lie, but it is difficult to support the lie after it is told. the writer of the book of matthew should have told us who the saints were that came to life again, and went into the city, and what became of them afterwards, and who it was that saw them; for he is not hardy enough to say that he saw them himself;--whether they came out naked, and all in natural buff, he-saints and she-saints, or whether they came full dressed, and where they got their dresses; whether they went to their former habitations, and reclaimed their wives, their husbands, and their property, and how they were received; whether they entered ejectments for the recovery of their possessions, or brought actions of crim. con. against the rival interlopers; whether they remained on earth, and followed their former occupation of preaching or working; or whether they died again, or went back to their graves alive, and buried themselves. strange indeed, that an army of saints should retum to life, and nobody know who they were, nor who it was that saw them, and that not a word more should be said upon the subject, nor these saints have any thing to tell us! had it been the prophets who (as we are told) had formerly prophesied of these things, they must have had a great deal to say. they could have told us everything, and we should have had posthumous prophecies, with notes and commentaries upon the first, a little better at least than we have now. had it been moses, and aaron, and joshua, and samuel, and david, not an unconverted jew had remained in all jerusalem. had it been john the baptist, and the saints of the times then present, everybody would have known them, and they would have out-preached and out-famed all the other apostles. but, instead of this, these saints are made to pop up, like jonah's gourd in the night, for no purpose at all but to wither in the morning.--thus much for this part of the story. the tale of the resurrection follows that of the crucifixion; and in this as well as in that, the writers, whoever they were, disagree so much as to make it evident that none of them were there. the book of matthew states, that when christ was put in the sepulchre the jews applied to pilate for a watch or a guard to be placed over the septilchre, to prevent the body being stolen by the disciples; and that in consequence of this request the sepulchre was made sure, sealing the stone that covered the mouth, and setting a watch. but the other books say nothing about this application, nor about the sealing, nor the guard, nor the watch; and according to their accounts, there were none. matthew, however, follows up this part of the story of the guard or the watch with a second part, that i shall notice in the conclusion, as it serves to detect the fallacy of those books. the book of matthew continues its account, and says, (xxviii. ,) that at the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn, towards the first day of the week, came mary magdalene and the other mary, to see the sepulchre. mark says it was sun-rising, and john says it was dark. luke says it was mary magdalene and joanna, and mary the mother of james, and other women, that came to the sepulchre; and john states that mary magdalene came alone. so well do they agree about their first evidence! they all, however, appear to have known most about mary magdalene; she was a woman of large acquaintance, and it was not an ill conjecture that she might be upon the stroll. [the bishop of llandaff, in his famous "apology," censured paine severely for this insinuation against mary magdalene, but the censure really falls on our english version, which, by a chapter-heading (luke vii.), has unwarrantably identified her as the sinful woman who anointed jesus, and irrevocably branded her.--editor.] the book of matthew goes on to say (ver. ): "and behold there was a great earthquake, for the angel of the lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it" but the other books say nothing about any earthquake, nor about the angel rolling back the stone, and sitting upon it and, according to their account, there was no angel sitting there. mark says the angel [mark says "a young man," and luke "two men."--editor.] was within the sepulchre, sitting on the right side. luke says there were two, and they were both standing up; and john says they were both sitting down, one at the head and the other at the feet. matthew says, that the angel that was sitting upon the stone on the outside of the sepulchre told the two marys that christ was risen, and that the women went away quickly. mark says, that the women, upon seeing the stone rolled away, and wondering at it, went into the sepulchre, and that it was the angel that was sitting within on the right side, that told them so. luke says, it was the two angels that were standing up; and john says, it was jesus christ himself that told it to mary magdalene; and that she did not go into the sepulchre, but only stooped down and looked in. now, if the writers of these four books had gone into a court of justice to prove an alibi, (for it is of the nature of an alibi that is here attempted to be proved, namely, the absence of a dead body by supernatural means,) and had they given their evidence in the same contradictory manner as it is here given, they would have been in danger of having their ears cropt for perjury, and would have justly deserved it. yet this is the evidence, and these are the books, that have been imposed upon the world as being given by divine inspiration, and as the unchangeable word of god. the writer of the book of matthew, after giving this account, relates a story that is not to be found in any of the other books, and which is the same i have just before alluded to. "now," says he, [that is, after the conversation the women had had with the angel sitting upon the stone,] "behold some of the watch [meaning the watch that he had said had been placed over the sepulchre] came into the city, and shawed unto the chief priests all the things that were done; and when they were assembled with the elders and had taken counsel, they gave large money unto the soldiers, saying, say ye, that his disciples came by night, and stole him away while we slept; and if this come to the governor's ears, we will persuade him, and secure you. so they took the money, and did as they were taught; and this saying [that his disciples stole him away] is commonly reported among the jews until this day." the expression, until this day, is an evidence that the book ascribed to matthew was not written by matthew, and that it has been manufactured long after the times and things of which it pretends to treat; for the expression implies a great length of intervening time. it would be inconsistent in us to speak in this manner of any thing happening in our own time. to give, therefore, intelligible meaning to the expression, we must suppose a lapse of some generations at least, for this manner of speaking carries the mind back to ancient time. the absurdity also of the story is worth noticing; for it shows the writer of the book of matthew to have been an exceeding weak and foolish man. he tells a story that contradicts itself in point of possibility; for though the guard, if there were any, might be made to say that the body was taken away while they were asleep, and to give that as a reason for their not having prevented it, that same sleep must also have prevented their knowing how, and by whom, it was done; and yet they are made to say that it was the disciples who did it. were a man to tender his evidence of something that he should say was done, and of the manner of doing it, and of the person who did it, while he was asleep, and could know nothing of the matter, such evidence could not be received: it will do well enough for testament evidence, but not for any thing where truth is concerned. i come now to that part of the evidence in those books, that respects the pretended appearance of christ after this pretended resurrection. the writer of the book of matthew relates, that the angel that was sitting on the stone at the mouth of the sepulchre, said to the two marys (xxviii. ), "behold christ is gone before you into galilee, there ye shall see him; lo, i have told you." and the same writer at the next two verses ( , ,) makes christ himself to speak to the same purpose to these women immediately after the angel had told it to them, and that they ran quickly to tell it to the disciples; and it is said (ver. ), "then the eleven disciples went away into galilee, into a mountain where jesus had appointed them; and, when they saw him, they worshipped him." but the writer of the book of john tells us a story very different to this; for he says (xx. ) "then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, [that is, the same day that christ is said to have risen,] when the doors were shut, where the disciples were assembled, for fear of the jews, came jesus and stood in the midst of them." according to matthew the eleven were marching to galilee, to meet jesus in a mountain, by his own appointment, at the very time when, according to john, they were assembled in another place, and that not by appointment, but in secret, for fear of the jews. the writer of the book of luke xxiv. , - , contradicts that of matthew more pointedly than john does; for he says expressly, that the meeting was in jerusalem the evening of the same day that he (christ) rose, and that the eleven were there. now, it is not possible, unless we admit these supposed disciples the right of wilful lying, that the writers of these books could be any of the eleven persons called disciples; for if, according to matthew, the eleven went into galilee to meet jesus in a mountain by his own appointment, on the same day that he is said to have risen, luke and john must have been two of that eleven; yet the writer of luke says expressly, and john implies as much, that the meeting was that same day, in a house in jerusalem; and, on the other hand, if, according to luke and john, the eleven were assembled in a house in jerusalem, matthew must have been one of that eleven; yet matthew says the meeting was in a mountain in galilee, and consequently the evidence given in those books destroy each other. the writer of the book of mark says nothing about any meeting in galilee; but he says (xvi. ) that christ, after his resurrection, appeared in another form to two of them, as they walked into the country, and that these two told it to the residue, who would not believe them. [this belongs to the late addition to mark, which originally ended with xvi. .--editor.] luke also tells a story, in which he keeps christ employed the whole of the day of this pretended resurrection, until the evening, and which totally invalidates the account of going to the mountain in galilee. he says, that two of them, without saying which two, went that same day to a village called emmaus, three score furlongs (seven miles and a half) from jerusalem, and that christ in disguise went with them, and stayed with them unto the evening, and supped with them, and then vanished out of their sight, and reappeared that same evening, at the meeting of the eleven in jerusalem. this is the contradictory manner in which the evidence of this pretended reappearance of christ is stated: the only point in which the writers agree, is the skulking privacy of that reappearance; for whether it was in the recess of a mountain in galilee, or in a shut-up house in jerusalem, it was still skulking. to what cause then are we to assign this skulking? on the one hand, it is directly repugnant to the supposed or pretended end, that of convincing the world that christ was risen; and, on the other hand, to have asserted the publicity of it would have exposed the writers of those books to public detection; and, therefore, they have been under the necessity of making it a private affair. as to the account of christ being seen by more than five hundred at once, it is paul only who says it, and not the five hundred who say it for themselves. it is, therefore, the testimony of but one man, and that too of a man, who did not, according to the same account, believe a word of the matter himself at the time it is said to have happened. his evidence, supposing him to have been the writer of corinthians xv., where this account is given, is like that of a man who comes into a court of justice to swear that what he had sworn before was false. a man may often see reason, and he has too always the right of changing his opinion; but this liberty does not extend to matters of fact. i now come to the last scene, that of the ascension into heaven.--here all fear of the jews, and of every thing else, must necessarily have been out of the question: it was that which, if true, was to seal the whole; and upon which the reality of the future mission of the disciples was to rest for proof. words, whether declarations or promises, that passed in private, either in the recess of a mountain in galilee, or in a shut-up house in jerusalem, even supposing them to have been spoken, could not be evidence in public; it was therefore necessary that this last scene should preclude the possibility of denial and dispute; and that it should be, as i have stated in the former part of 'the age of reason,' as public and as visible as the sun at noon-day; at least it ought to have been as public as the crucifixion is reported to have been.--but to come to the point. in the first place, the writer of the book of matthew does not say a syllable about it; neither does the writer of the book of john. this being the case, is it possible to suppose that those writers, who affect to be even minute in other matters, would have been silent upon this, had it been true? the writer of the book of mark passes it off in a careless, slovenly manner, with a single dash of the pen, as if he was tired of romancing, or ashamed of the story. so also does the writer of luke. and even between these two, there is not an apparent agreement, as to the place where this final parting is said to have been. [the last nine verses of mark being ungenuine, the story of the ascension rests exclusively on the words in luke xxiv. , "was carried up into heaven,"--words omitted by several ancient authorities.--editor.] the book of mark says that christ appeared to the eleven as they sat at meat, alluding to the meeting of the eleven at jerusalem: he then states the conversation that he says passed at that meeting; and immediately after says (as a school-boy would finish a dull story,) "so then, after the lord had spoken unto them, he was received up into heaven, and sat on the right hand of god." but the writer of luke says, that the ascension was from bethany; that he (christ) led them out as far as bethany, and was parted from them there, and was carried up into heaven. so also was mahomet: and, as to moses, the apostle jude says, ver. . that 'michael and the devil disputed about his body.' while we believe such fables as these, or either of them, we believe unworthily of the almighty. i have now gone through the examination of the four books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke and john; and when it is considered that the whole space of time, from the crucifixion to what is called the ascension, is but a few days, apparently not more than three or four, and that all the circumstances are reported to have happened nearly about the same spot, jerusalem, it is, i believe, impossible to find in any story upon record so many and such glaring absurdities, contradictions, and falsehoods, as are in those books. they are more numerous and striking than i had any expectation of finding, when i began this examination, and far more so than i had any idea of when i wrote the former part of 'the age of reason.' i had then neither bible nor testament to refer to, nor could i procure any. my own situation, even as to existence, was becoming every day more precarious; and as i was willing to leave something behind me upon the subject, i was obliged to be quick and concise. the quotations i then made were from memory only, but they are correct; and the opinions i have advanced in that work are the effect of the most clear and long-established conviction,--that the bible and the testament are impositions upon the world;--that the fall of man, the account of jesus christ being the son of god, and of his dying to appease the wrath of god, and of salvation by that strange means, are all fabulous inventions, dishonourable to the wisdom and power of the almighty;--that the only true religion is deism, by which i then meant and now mean the belief of one god, and an imitation of his moral character, or the practice of what are called moral virtues;--and that it was upon this only (so far as religion is concerned) that i rested all my hopes of happiness hereafter. so say i now--and so help me god. but to retum to the subject.--though it is impossible, at this distance of time, to ascertain as a fact who were the writers of those four books (and this alone is sufficient to hold them in doubt, and where we doubt we do not believe) it is not difficult to ascertain negatively that they were not written by the persons to whom they are ascribed. the contradictions in those books demonstrate two things: first, that the writers cannot have been eye-witnesses and ear-witnesses of the matters they relate, or they would have related them without those contradictions; and, consequently that the books have not been written by the persons called apostles, who are supposed to have been witnesses of this kind. secondly, that the writers, whoever they were, have not acted in concerted imposition, but each writer separately and individually for himself, and without the knowledge of the other. the same evidence that applies to prove the one, applies equally to prove both cases; that is, that the books were not written by the men called apostles, and also that they are not a concerted imposition. as to inspiration, it is altogether out of the question; we may as well attempt to unite truth and falsehood, as inspiration and contradiction. if four men are eye-witnesses and ear-witnesses to a scene, they will without any concert between them, agree as to time and place, when and where that scene happened. their individual knowledge of the thing, each one knowing it for himself, renders concert totally unnecessary; the one will not say it was in a mountain in the country, and the other at a house in town; the one will not say it was at sunrise, and the other that it was dark. for in whatever place it was and whatever time it was, they know it equally alike. and on the other hand, if four men concert a story, they will make their separate relations of that story agree and corroborate with each other to support the whole. that concert supplies the want of fact in the one case, as the knowledge of the fact supersedes, in the other case, the necessity of a concert. the same contradictions, therefore, that prove there has been no concert, prove also that the reporters had no knowledge of the fact, (or rather of that which they relate as a fact,) and detect also the falsehood of their reports. those books, therefore, have neither been written by the men called apostles, nor by imposters in concert.--how then have they been written? i am not one of those who are fond of believing there is much of that which is called wilful lying, or lying originally, except in the case of men setting up to be prophets, as in the old testament; for prophesying is lying professionally. in almost all other cases it is not difficult to discover the progress by which even simple supposition, with the aid of credulity, will in time grow into a lie, and at last be told as a fact; and whenever we can find a charitable reason for a thing of this kind, we ought not to indulge a severe one. the story of jesus christ appearing after he was dead is the story of an apparition, such as timid imaginations can always create in vision, and credulity believe. stories of this kind had been told of the assassination of julius caesar not many years before, and they generally have their origin in violent deaths, or in execution of innocent persons. in cases of this kind, compassion lends its aid, and benevolently stretches the story. it goes on a little and a little farther, till it becomes a most certain truth. once start a ghost, and credulity fills up the history of its life, and assigns the cause of its appearance; one tells it one way, another another way, till there are as many stories about the ghost, and about the proprietor of the ghost, as there are about jesus christ in these four books. the story of the appearance of jesus christ is told with that strange mixture of the natural and impossible, that distinguishes legendary tale from fact. he is represented as suddenly coming in and going out when the doors are shut, and of vanishing out of sight, and appearing again, as one would conceive of an unsubstantial vision; then again he is hungry, sits down to meat, and eats his supper. but as those who tell stories of this kind never provide for all the cases, so it is here: they have told us, that when he arose he left his grave-clothes behind him; but they have forgotten to provide other clothes for him to appear in afterwards, or to tell us what he did with them when he ascended; whether he stripped all off, or went up clothes and all. in the case of elijah, they have been careful enough to make him throw down his mantle; how it happened not to be burnt in the chariot of fire, they also have not told us; but as imagination supplies all deficiencies of this kind, we may suppose if we please that it was made of salamander's wool. those who are not much acquainted with ecclesiastical history, may suppose that the book called the new testament has existed ever since the time of jesus christ, as they suppose that the books ascribed to moses have existed ever since the time of moses. but the fact is historically otherwise; there was no such book as the new testament till more than three hundred years after the time that christ is said to have lived. at what time the books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke and john, began to appear, is altogether a matter of uncertainty. there is not the least shadow of evidence of who the persons were that wrote them, nor at what time they were written; and they might as well have been called by the names of any of the other supposed apostles as by the names they are now called. the originals are not in the possession of any christian church existing, any more than the two tables of stone written on, they pretend, by the finger of god, upon mount sinai, and given to moses, are in the possession of the jews. and even if they were, there is no possibility of proving the hand-writing in either case. at the time those four books were written there was no printing, and consequently there could be no publication otherwise than by written copies, which any man might make or alter at pleasure, and call them originals. can we suppose it is consistent with the wisdom of the almighty to commit himself and his will to man upon such precarious means as these; or that it is consistent we should pin our faith upon such uncertainties? we cannot make nor alter, nor even imitate, so much as one blade of grass that he has made, and yet we can make or alter words of god as easily as words of man. [the former part of the 'age of reason' has not been published two years, and there is already an expression in it that is not mine. the expression is: the book of luke was carried by a majority of one voice only. it may be true, but it is not i that have said it. some person who might know of that circumstance, has added it in a note at the bottom of the page of some of the editions, printed either in england or in america; and the printers, after that, have erected it into the body of the work, and made me the author of it. if this has happened within such a short space of time, notwithstanding the aid of printing, which prevents the alteration of copies individually, what may not have happened in a much greater length of time, when there was no printing, and when any man who could write could make a written copy and call it an original by matthew, mark, luke, or john?--author.] [the spurious addition to paine's work alluded to in his footnote drew on him a severe criticism from dr. priestley ("letters to a philosophical unbeliever," p. ), yet it seems to have been priestley himself who, in his quotation, first incorporated into paine's text the footnote added by the editor of the american edition ( ). the american added: "vide moshiem's (sic) ecc. history," which priestley omits. in a modern american edition i notice four verbal alterations introduced into the above footnote.--editor.] about three hundred and fifty years after the time that christ is said to have lived, several writings of the kind i am speaking of were scattered in the hands of divers individuals; and as the church had begun to form itself into an hierarchy, or church government, with temporal powers, it set itself about collecting them into a code, as we now see them, called 'the new testament.' they decided by vote, as i have before said in the former part of the age of reason, which of those writings, out of the collection they had made, should be the word of god, and which should not. the robbins of the jews had decided, by vote, upon the books of the bible before. as the object of the church, as is the case in all national establishments of churches, was power and revenue, and terror the means it used, it is consistent to suppose that the most miraculous and wonderful of the writings they had collected stood the best chance of being voted. and as to the authenticity of the books, the vote stands in the place of it; for it can be traced no higher. disputes, however, ran high among the people then calling themselves christians, not only as to points of doctrine, but as to the authenticity of the books. in the contest between the person called st. augustine, and fauste, about the year , the latter says, "the books called the evangelists have been composed long after the times of the apostles, by some obscure men, who, fearing that the world would not give credit to their relation of matters of which they could not be informed, have published them under the names of the apostles; and which are so full of sottishness and discordant relations, that there is neither agreement nor connection between them." and in another place, addressing himself to the advocates of those books, as being the word of god, he says, "it is thus that your predecessors have inserted in the scriptures of our lord many things which, though they carry his name, agree not with his doctrine." this is not surprising, since that we have often proved that these things have not been written by himself, nor by his apostles, but that for the greatest part they are founded upon tales, upon vague reports, and put together by i know not what half-jews, with but little agreement between them; and which they have nevertheless published under the name of the apostles of our lord, and have thus attributed to them their own errors and their lies. [i have taken these two extracts from boulanger's life of paul, written in french; boulanger has quoted them from the writings of augustine against fauste, to which he refers.--author.] this bishop faustus is usually styled "the manichaeum," augustine having entitled his book, contra frustum manichaeum libri xxxiii., in which nearly the whole of faustus' very able work is quoted.--editor.] the reader will see by those extracts that the authenticity of the books of the new testament was denied, and the books treated as tales, forgeries, and lies, at the time they were voted to be the word of god. but the interest of the church, with the assistance of the faggot, bore down the opposition, and at last suppressed all investigation. miracles followed upon miracles, if we will believe them, and men were taught to say they believed whether they believed or not. but (by way of throwing in a thought) the french revolution has excommunicated the church from the power of working miracles; she has not been able, with the assistance of all her saints, to work one miracle since the revolution began; and as she never stood in greater need than now, we may, without the aid of divination, conclude that all her former miracles are tricks and lies. [boulanger in his life of paul, has collected from the ecclesiastical histories, and the writings of the fathers as they are called, several matters which show the opinions that prevailed among the different sects of christians, at the time the testament, as we now see it, was voted to be the word of god. the following extracts are from the second chapter of that work: [the marcionists (a christian sect) asserted that the evangelists were filled with falsities. the manichaeans, who formed a very numerous sect at the commencement of christianity, rejected as false all the new testament, and showed other writings quite different that they gave for authentic. the corinthians, like the marcionists, admitted not the acts of the apostles. the encratites and the sevenians adopted neither the acts, nor the epistles of paul. chrysostom, in a homily which he made upon the acts of the apostles, says that in his time, about the year , many people knew nothing either of the author or of the book. st. irene, who lived before that time, reports that the valentinians, like several other sects of the christians, accused the scriptures of being filled with imperfections, errors, and contradictions. the ebionites, or nazarenes, who were the first christians, rejected all the epistles of paul, and regarded him as an impostor. they report, among other things, that he was originally a pagan; that he came to jerusalem, where he lived some time; and that having a mind to marry the daughter of the high priest, he had himself been circumcised; but that not being able to obtain her, he quarrelled with the jews and wrote against circumcision, and against the observation of the sabbath, and against all the legal ordinances.--author.] [much abridged from the exam. crit. de la vie de st. paul, by n.a. boulanger, .--editor.] when we consider the lapse of more than three hundred years intervening between the time that christ is said to have lived and the time the new testament was formed into a book, we must see, even without the assistance of historical evidence, the exceeding uncertainty there is of its authenticity. the authenticity of the book of homer, so far as regards the authorship, is much better established than that of the new testament, though homer is a thousand years the most ancient. it was only an exceeding good poet that could have written the book of homer, and, therefore, few men only could have attempted it; and a man capable of doing it would not have thrown away his own fame by giving it to another. in like manner, there were but few that could have composed euclid's elements, because none but an exceeding good geometrician could have been the author of that work. but with respect to the books of the new testament, particularly such parts as tell us of the resurrection and ascension of christ, any person who could tell a story of an apparition, or of a man's walking, could have made such books; for the story is most wretchedly told. the chance, therefore, of forgery in the testament is millions to one greater than in the case of homer or euclid. of the numerous priests or parsons of the present day, bishops and all, every one of them can make a sermon, or translate a scrap of latin, especially if it has been translated a thousand times before; but is there any amongst them that can write poetry like homer, or science like euclid? the sum total of a parson's learning, with very few exceptions, is a, b, ab, and hic, haec, hoc; and their knowledge of science is, three times one is three; and this is more than sufficient to have enabled them, had they lived at the time, to have written all the books of the new testament. as the opportunities of forgery were greater, so also was the inducement. a man could gain no advantage by writing under the name of homer or euclid; if he could write equal to them, it would be better that he wrote under his own name; if inferior, he could not succeed. pride would prevent the former, and impossibility the latter. but with respect to such books as compose the new testament, all the inducements were on the side of forgery. the best imagined history that could have been made, at the distance of two or three hundred years after the time, could not have passed for an original under the name of the real writer; the only chance of success lay in forgery; for the church wanted pretence for its new doctrine, and truth and talents were out of the question. but as it is not uncommon (as before observed) to relate stories of persons walking after they are dead, and of ghosts and apparitions of such as have fallen by some violent or extraordinary means; and as the people of that day were in the habit of believing such things, and of the appearance of angels, and also of devils, and of their getting into people's insides, and shaking them like a fit of an ague, and of their being cast out again as if by an emetic--(mary magdalene, the book of mark tells us had brought up, or been brought to bed of seven devils;) it was nothing extraordinary that some story of this kind should get abroad of the person called jesus christ, and become afterwards the foundation of the four books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke, and john. each writer told a tale as he heard it, or thereabouts, and gave to his book the name of the saint or the apostle whom tradition had given as the eye-witness. it is only upon this ground that the contradictions in those books can be accounted for; and if this be not the case, they are downright impositions, lies, and forgeries, without even the apology of credulity. that they have been written by a sort of half jews, as the foregoing quotations mention, is discernible enough. the frequent references made to that chief assassin and impostor moses, and to the men called prophets, establishes this point; and, on the other hand, the church has complimented the fraud, by admitting the bible and the testament to reply to each other. between the christian-jew and the christian-gentile, the thing called a prophecy, and the thing prophesied of, the type and the thing typified, the sign and the thing signified, have been industriously rummaged up, and fitted together like old locks and pick-lock keys. the story foolishly enough told of eve and the serpent, and naturally enough as to the enmity between men and serpents (for the serpent always bites about the heel, because it cannot reach higher, and the man always knocks the serpent about the head, as the most effectual way to prevent its biting;) ["it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel." gen. iii. .--author.] this foolish story, i say, has been made into a prophecy, a type, and a promise to begin with; and the lying imposition of isaiah to ahaz, 'that a virgin shall conceive and bear a son,' as a sign that ahaz should conquer, when the event was that he was defeated (as already noticed in the observations on the book of isaiah), has been perverted, and made to serve as a winder up. jonah and the whale are also made into a sign and type. jonah is jesus, and the whale is the grave; for it is said, (and they have made christ to say it of himself, matt. xii. ), "for as jonah was three days and three nights in the whale's belly, so shall the son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth." but it happens, awkwardly enough, that christ, according to their own account, was but one day and two nights in the grave; about hours instead of ; that is, the friday night, the saturday, and the saturday night; for they say he was up on the sunday morning by sunrise, or before. but as this fits quite as well as the bite and the kick in genesis, or the virgin and her son in isaiah, it will pass in the lump of orthodox things.--thus much for the historical part of the testament and its evidences. epistles of paul--the epistles ascribed to paul, being fourteen in number, almost fill up the remaining part of the testament. whether those epistles were written by the person to whom they are ascribed is a matter of no great importance, since that the writer, whoever he was, attempts to prove his doctrine by argument. he does not pretend to have been witness to any of the scenes told of the resurrection and the ascension; and he declares that he had not believed them. the story of his being struck to the ground as he was journeying to damascus, has nothing in it miraculous or extraordinary; he escaped with life, and that is more than many others have done, who have been struck with lightning; and that he should lose his sight for three days, and be unable to eat or drink during that time, is nothing more than is common in such conditions. his companions that were with him appear not to have suffered in the same manner, for they were well enough to lead him the remainder of the journey; neither did they pretend to have seen any vision. the character of the person called paul, according to the accounts given of him, has in it a great deal of violence and fanaticism; he had persecuted with as much heat as he preached afterwards; the stroke he had received had changed his thinking, without altering his constitution; and either as a jew or a christian he was the same zealot. such men are never good moral evidences of any doctrine they preach. they are always in extremes, as well of action as of belief. the doctrine he sets out to prove by argument, is the resurrection of the same body: and he advances this as an evidence of immortality. but so much will men differ in their manner of thinking, and in the conclusions they draw from the same premises, that this doctrine of the resurrection of the same body, so far from being an evidence of immortality, appears to me to be an evidence against it; for if i have already died in this body, and am raised again in the same body in which i have died, it is presumptive evidence that i shall die again. that resurrection no more secures me against the repetition of dying, than an ague-fit, when past, secures me against another. to believe therefore in immortality, i must have a more elevated idea than is contained in the gloomy doctrine of the resurrection. besides, as a matter of choice, as well as of hope, i had rather have a better body and a more convenient form than the present. every animal in the creation excels us in something. the winged insects, without mentioning doves or eagles, can pass over more space with greater ease in a few minutes than man can in an hour. the glide of the smallest fish, in proportion to its bulk, exceeds us in motion almost beyond comparison, and without weariness. even the sluggish snail can ascend from the bottom of a dungeon, where man, by the want of that ability, would perish; and a spider can launch itself from the top, as a playful amusement. the personal powers of man are so limited, and his heavy frame so little constructed to extensive enjoyment, that there is nothing to induce us to wish the opinion of paul to be true. it is too little for the magnitude of the scene, too mean for the sublimity of the subject. but all other arguments apart, the consciousness of existence is the only conceivable idea we can have of another life, and the continuance of that consciousness is immortality. the consciousness of existence, or the knowing that we exist, is not necessarily confined to the same form, nor to the same matter, even in this life. we have not in all cases the same form, nor in any case the same matter, that composed our bodies twenty or thirty years ago; and yet we are conscious of being the same persons. even legs and arms, which make up almost half the human frame, are not necessary to the consciousness of existence. these may be lost or taken away and the full consciousness of existence remain; and were their place supplied by wings, or other appendages, we cannot conceive that it could alter our consciousness of existence. in short, we know not how much, or rather how little, of our composition it is, and how exquisitely fine that little is, that creates in us this consciousness of existence; and all beyond that is like the pulp of a peach, distinct and separate from the vegetative speck in the kernel. who can say by what exceeding fine action of fine matter it is that a thought is produced in what we call the mind? and yet that thought when produced, as i now produce the thought i am writing, is capable of becoming immortal, and is the only production of man that has that capacity. statues of brass and marble will perish; and statues made in imitation of them are not the same statues, nor the same workmanship, any more than the copy of a picture is the same picture. but print and reprint a thought a thousand times over, and that with materials of any kind, carve it in wood, or engrave it on stone, the thought is eternally and identically the same thought in every case. it has a capacity of unimpaired existence, unaffected by change of matter, and is essentially distinct, and of a nature different from every thing else that we know of, or can conceive. if then the thing produced has in itself a capacity of being immortal, it is more than a token that the power that produced it, which is the self-same thing as consciousness of existence, can be immortal also; and that as independently of the matter it was first connected with, as the thought is of the printing or writing it first appeared in. the one idea is not more difficult to believe than the other; and we can see that one is true. that the consciousness of existence is not dependent on the same form or the same matter, is demonstrated to our senses in the works of the creation, as far as our senses are capable of receiving that demonstration. a very numerous part of the animal creation preaches to us, far better than paul, the belief of a life hereafter. their little life resembles an earth and a heaven, a present and a future state; and comprises, if it may be so expressed, immortality in miniature. the most beautiful parts of the creation to our eye are the winged insects, and they are not so originally. they acquire that form and that inimitable brilliancy by progressive changes. the slow and creeping caterpillar worm of to day, passes in a few days to a torpid figure, and a state resembling death; and in the next change comes forth in all the miniature magnificence of life, a splendid butterfly. no resemblance of the former creature remains; every thing is changed; all his powers are new, and life is to him another thing. we cannot conceive that the consciousness of existence is not the same in this state of the animal as before; why then must i believe that the resurrection of the same body is necessary to continue to me the consciousness of existence hereafter? in the former part of 'the agee of reason.' i have called the creation the true and only real word of god; and this instance, or this text, in the book of creation, not only shows to us that this thing may be so, but that it is so; and that the belief of a future state is a rational belief, founded upon facts visible in the creation: for it is not more difficult to believe that we shall exist hereafter in a better state and form than at present, than that a worm should become a butterfly, and quit the dunghill for the atmosphere, if we did not know it as a fact. as to the doubtful jargon ascribed to paul in corinthians xv., which makes part of the burial service of some christian sectaries, it is as destitute of meaning as the tolling of a bell at the funeral; it explains nothing to the understanding, it illustrates nothing to the imagination, but leaves the reader to find any meaning if he can. "all flesh," says he, "is not the same flesh. there is one flesh of men, another of beasts, another of fishes, and another of birds." and what then? nothing. a cook could have said as much. "there are also," says he, "bodies celestial and bodies terrestrial; the glory of the celestial is one and the glory of the terrestrial is the other." and what then? nothing. and what is the difference? nothing that he has told. "there is," says he, "one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars." and what then? nothing; except that he says that one star differeth from another star in glory, instead of distance; and he might as well have told us that the moon did not shine so bright as the sun. all this is nothing better than the jargon of a conjuror, who picks up phrases he does not understand to confound the credulous people who come to have their fortune told. priests and conjurors are of the same trade. sometimes paul affects to be a naturalist, and to prove his system of resurrection from the principles of vegetation. "thou fool" says he, "that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die." to which one might reply in his own language, and say, thou fool, paul, that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die not; for the grain that dies in the ground never does, nor can vegetate. it is only the living grains that produce the next crop. but the metaphor, in any point of view, is no simile. it is succession, and [not] resurrection. the progress of an animal from one state of being to another, as from a worm to a butterfly, applies to the case; but this of a grain does not, and shows paul to have been what he says of others, a fool. whether the fourteen epistles ascribed to paul were written by him or not, is a matter of indifference; they are either argumentative or dogmatical; and as the argument is defective, and the dogmatical part is merely presumptive, it signifies not who wrote them. and the same may be said for the remaining parts of the testament. it is not upon the epistles, but upon what is called the gospel, contained in the four books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke, and john, and upon the pretended prophecies, that the theory of the church, calling itself the christian church, is founded. the epistles are dependant upon those, and must follow their fate; for if the story of jesus christ be fabulous, all reasoning founded upon it, as a supposed truth, must fall with it. we know from history, that one of the principal leaders of this church, athanasius, lived at the time the new testament was formed; [athanasius died, according to the church chronology, in the year --author.] and we know also, from the absurd jargon he has left us under the name of a creed, the character of the men who formed the new testament; and we know also from the same history that the authenticity of the books of which it is composed was denied at the time. it was upon the vote of such as athanasius that the testament was decreed to be the word of god; and nothing can present to us a more strange idea than that of decreeing the word of god by vote. those who rest their faith upon such authority put man in the place of god, and have no true foundation for future happiness. credulity, however, is not a crime, but it becomes criminal by resisting conviction. it is strangling in the womb of the conscience the efforts it makes to ascertain truth. we should never force belief upon ourselves in any thing. i here close the subject on the old testament and the new. the evidence i have produced to prove them forgeries, is extracted from the books themselves, and acts, like a two-edge sword, either way. if the evidence be denied, the authenticity of the scriptures is denied with it, for it is scripture evidence: and if the evidence be admitted, the authenticity of the books is disproved. the contradictory impossibilities, contained in the old testament and the new, put them in the case of a man who swears for and against. either evidence convicts him of perjury, and equally destroys reputation. should the bible and the testament hereafter fall, it is not that i have done it. i have done no more than extracted the evidence from the confused mass of matters with which it is mixed, and arranged that evidence in a point of light to be clearly seen and easily comprehended; and, having done this, i leave the reader to judge for himself, as i have judged for myself. chapter iii - conclusion in the former part of 'the age of reason' i have spoken of the three frauds, mystery, miracle, and prophecy; and as i have seen nothing in any of the answers to that work that in the least affects what i have there said upon those subjects, i shall not encumber this second part with additions that are not necessary. i have spoken also in the same work upon what is celled revelation, and have shown the absurd misapplication of that term to the books of the old testament and the new; for certainly revelation is out of the question in reciting any thing of which man has been the actor or the witness. that which man has done or seen, needs no revelation to tell him he has done it, or seen it--for he knows it already--nor to enable him to tell it or to write it. it is ignorance, or imposition, to apply the term revelation in such cases; yet the bible and testament are classed under this fraudulent description of being all revelation. revelation then, so far as the term has relation between god and man, can only be applied to something which god reveals of his will to man; but though the power of the almighty to make such a communication is necessarily admitted, because to that power all things are possible, yet, the thing so revealed (if any thing ever was revealed, and which, by the bye, it is impossible to prove) is revelation to the person only to whom it is made. his account of it to another is not revelation; and whoever puts faith in that account, puts it in the man from whom the account comes; and that man may have been deceived, or may have dreamed it; or he may be an impostor and may lie. there is no possible criterion whereby to judge of the truth of what he tells; for even the morality of it would be no proof of revelation. in all such cases, the proper answer should be, "when it is revealed to me, i will believe it to be revelation; but it is not and cannot be incumbent upon me to believe it to be revelation before; neither is it proper that i should take the word of man as the word of god, and put man in the place of god." this is the manner in which i have spoken of revelation in the former part of the age of reason; and which, whilst it reverentially admits revelation as a possible thing, because, as before said, to the almighty all things are possible, it prevents the imposition of one man upon another, and precludes the wicked use of pretended revelation. but though, speaking for myself, i thus admit the possibility of revelation, i totally disbelieve that the almighty ever did communicate any thing to man, by any mode of speech, in any language, or by any kind of vision, or appearance, or by any means which our senses are capable of receiving, otherwise than by the universal display of himself in the works of the creation, and by that repugnance we feel in ourselves to bad actions, and disposition to good ones. [a fair parallel of the then unknown aphorism of kant: "two things fill the soul with wonder and reverence, increasing evermore as i meditate more closely upon them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me." (kritik derpraktischen vernunfe, ). kant's religious utterances at the beginning of the french revolution brought on him a royal mandate of silence, because he had worked out from "the moral law within" a principle of human equality precisely similar to that which paine had derived from his quaker doctrine of the "inner light" of every man. about the same time paine's writings were suppressed in england. paine did not understand german, but kant, though always independent in the formation of his opinions, was evidently well acquainted with the literature of the revolution, in america, england, and france.--editor.] the most detestable wickedness, the most horrid cruelties, and the greatest miseries, that have afflicted the human race have had their origin in this thing called revelation, or revealed religion. it has been the most dishonourable belief against the character of the divinity, the most destructive to morality, and the peace and happiness of man, that ever was propagated since man began to exist. it is better, far better, that we admitted, if it were possible, a thousand devils to roam at large, and to preach publicly the doctrine of devils, if there were any such, than that we permitted one such impostor and monster as moses, joshua, samuel, and the bible prophets, to come with the pretended word of god in his mouth, and have credit among us. whence arose all the horrid assassinations of whole nations of men, women, and infants, with which the bible is filled; and the bloody persecutions, and tortures unto death and religious wars, that since that time have laid europe in blood and ashes; whence arose they, but from this impious thing called revealed religion, and this monstrous belief that god has spoken to man? the lies of the bible have been the cause of the one, and the lies of the testament [of] the other. some christians pretend that christianity was not established by the sword; but of what period of time do they speak? it was impossible that twelve men could begin with the sword: they had not the power; but no sooner were the professors of christianity sufficiently powerful to employ the sword than they did so, and the stake and faggot too; and mahomet could not do it sooner. by the same spirit that peter cut off the ear of the high priest's servant (if the story be true) he would cut off his head, and the head of his master, had he been able. besides this, christianity grounds itself originally upon the [hebrew] bible, and the bible was established altogether by the sword, and that in the worst use of it--not to terrify, but to extirpate. the jews made no converts: they butchered all. the bible is the sire of the [new] testament, and both are called the word of god. the christians read both books; the ministers preach from both books; and this thing called christianity is made up of both. it is then false to say that christianity was not established by the sword. the only sect that has not persecuted are the quakers; and the only reason that can be given for it is, that they are rather deists than christians. they do not believe much about jesus christ, and they call the scriptures a dead letter. [this is an interesting and correct testimony as to the beliefs of the earlier quakers, one of whom was paine's father.--editor.] had they called them by a worse name, they had been nearer the truth. it is incumbent on every man who reverences the character of the creator, and who wishes to lessen the catalogue of artificial miseries, and remove the cause that has sown persecutions thick among mankind, to expel all ideas of a revealed religion as a dangerous heresy, and an impious fraud. what is it that we have learned from this pretended thing called revealed religion? nothing that is useful to man, and every thing that is dishonourable to his maker. what is it the bible teaches us?--repine, cruelty, and murder. what is it the testament teaches us?--to believe that the almighty committed debauchery with a woman engaged to be married; and the belief of this debauchery is called faith. as to the fragments of morality that are irregularly and thinly scattered in those books, they make no part of this pretended thing, revealed religion. they are the natural dictates of conscience, and the bonds by which society is held together, and without which it cannot exist; and are nearly the same in all religions, and in all societies. the testament teaches nothing new upon this subject, and where it attempts to exceed, it becomes mean and ridiculous. the doctrine of not retaliating injuries is much better expressed in proverbs, which is a collection as well from the gentiles as the jews, than it is in the testament. it is there said, (xxv. i) "if thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat; and if he be thirsty, give him water to drink:" [according to what is called christ's sermon on the mount, in the book of matthew, where, among some other [and] good things, a great deal of this feigned morality is introduced, it is there expressly said, that the doctrine of forbearance, or of not retaliating injuries, was not any part of the doctrine of the jews; but as this doctrine is found in "proverbs," it must, according to that statement, have been copied from the gentiles, from whom christ had learned it. those men whom jewish and christian idolators have abusively called heathen, had much better and clearer ideas of justice and morality than are to be found in the old testament, so far as it is jewish, or in the new. the answer of solon on the question, "which is the most perfect popular govemment," has never been exceeded by any man since his time, as containing a maxim of political morality, "that," says he, "where the least injury done to the meanest individual, is considered as an insult on the whole constitution." solon lived about years before christ.--author.] but when it is said, as in the testament, "if a man smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also," it is assassinating the dignity of forbearance, and sinking man into a spaniel. loving, of enemies is another dogma of feigned morality, and has besides no meaning. it is incumbent on man, as a moralist, that he does not revenge an injury; and it is equally as good in a political sense, for there is no end to retaliation; each retaliates on the other, and calls it justice: but to love in proportion to the injury, if it could be done, would be to offer a premium for a crime. besides, the word enemies is too vague and general to be used in a moral maxim, which ought always to be clear and defined, like a proverb. if a man be the enemy of another from mistake and prejudice, as in the case of religious opinions, and sometimes in politics, that man is different to an enemy at heart with a criminal intention; and it is incumbent upon us, and it contributes also to our own tranquillity, that we put the best construction upon a thing that it will bear. but even this erroneous motive in him makes no motive for love on the other part; and to say that we can love voluntarily, and without a motive, is morally and physically impossible. morality is injured by prescribing to it duties that, in the first place, are impossible to be performed, and if they could be would be productive of evil; or, as before said, be premiums for crime. the maxim of doing as we would be done unto does not include this strange doctrine of loving enemies; for no man expects to be loved himself for his crime or for his enmity. those who preach this doctrine of loving their enemies, are in general the greatest persecutors, and they act consistently by so doing; for the doctrine is hypocritical, and it is natural that hypocrisy should act the reverse of what it preaches. for my own part, i disown the doctrine, and consider it as a feigned or fabulous morality; yet the man does not exist that can say i have persecuted him, or any man, or any set of men, either in the american revolution, or in the french revolution; or that i have, in any case, returned evil for evil. but it is not incumbent on man to reward a bad action with a good one, or to return good for evil; and wherever it is done, it is a voluntary act, and not a duty. it is also absurd to suppose that such doctrine can make any part of a revealed religion. we imitate the moral character of the creator by forbearing with each other, for he forbears with all; but this doctrine would imply that he loved man, not in proportion as he was good, but as he was bad. if we consider the nature of our condition here, we must see there is no occasion for such a thing as revealed religion. what is it we want to know? does not the creation, the universe we behold, preach to us the existence of an almighty power, that governs and regulates the whole? and is not the evidence that this creation holds out to our senses infinitely stronger than any thing we can read in a book, that any imposter might make and call the word of god? as for morality, the knowledge of it exists in every man's conscience. here we are. the existence of an almighty power is sufficiently demonstrated to us, though we cannot conceive, as it is impossible we should, the nature and manner of its existence. we cannot conceive how we came here ourselves, and yet we know for a fact that we are here. we must know also, that the power that called us into being, can if he please, and when he pleases, call us to account for the manner in which we have lived here; and therefore without seeking any other motive for the belief, it is rational to believe that he will, for we know beforehand that he can. the probability or even possibility of the thing is all that we ought to know; for if we knew it as a fact, we should be the mere slaves of terror; our belief would have no merit, and our best actions no virtue. deism then teaches us, without the possibility of being deceived, all that is necessary or proper to be known. the creation is the bible of the deist. he there reads, in the hand-writing of the creator himself, the certainty of his existence, and the immutability of his power; and all other bibles and testaments are to him forgeries. the probability that we may be called to account hereafter, will, to reflecting minds, have the influence of belief; for it is not our belief or disbelief that can make or unmake the fact. as this is the state we are in, and which it is proper we should be in, as free agents, it is the fool only, and not the philosopher, nor even the prudent man, that will live as if there were no god. but the belief of a god is so weakened by being mixed with the strange fable of the christian creed, and with the wild adventures related in the bible, and the obscurity and obscene nonsense of the testament, that the mind of man is bewildered as in a fog. viewing all these things in a confused mass, he confounds fact with fable; and as he cannot believe all, he feels a disposition to reject all. but the belief of a god is a belief distinct from all other things, and ought not to be confounded with any. the notion of a trinity of gods has enfeebled the belief of one god. a multiplication of beliefs acts as a division of belief; and in proportion as anything is divided, it is weakened. religion, by such means, becomes a thing of form instead of fact; of notion instead of principle: morality is banished to make room for an imaginary thing called faith, and this faith has its origin in a supposed debauchery; a man is preached instead of a god; an execution is an object for gratitude; the preachers daub themselves with the blood, like a troop of assassins, and pretend to admire the brilliancy it gives them; they preach a humdrum sermon on the merits of the execution; then praise jesus christ for being executed, and condemn the jews for doing it. a man, by hearing all this nonsense lumped and preached together, confounds the god of the creation with the imagined god of the christians, and lives as if there were none. of all the systems of religion that ever were invented, there is none more derogatory to the almighty, more unedifying to man, more repugnant to reason, and more contradictory in itself, than this thing called christianity. too absurd for belief, too impossible to convince, and too inconsistent for practice, it renders the heart torpid, or produces only atheists and fanatics. as an engine of power, it serves the purpose of despotism; and as a means of wealth, the avarice of priests; but so far as respects the good of man in general, it leads to nothing here or hereafter. the only religion that has not been invented, and that has in it every evidence of divine originality, is pure and simple deism. it must have been the first and will probably be the last that man believes. but pure and simple deism does not answer the purpose of despotic governments. they cannot lay hold of religion as an engine but by mixing it with human inventions, and making their own authority a part; neither does it answer the avarice of priests, but by incorporating themselves and their functions with it, and becoming, like the government, a party in the system. it is this that forms the otherwise mysterious connection of church and state; the church human, and the state tyrannic. were a man impressed as fully and strongly as he ought to be with the belief of a god, his moral life would be regulated by the force of belief; he would stand in awe of god, and of himself, and would not do the thing that could not be concealed from either. to give this belief the full opportunity of force, it is necessary that it acts alone. this is deism. but when, according to the christian trinitarian scheme, one part of god is represented by a dying man, and another part, called the holy ghost, by a flying pigeon, it is impossible that belief can attach itself to such wild conceits. [the book called the book of matthew, says, (iii. ,) that the holy ghost descended in the shape of a dove. it might as well have said a goose; the creatures are equally harmless, and the one is as much a nonsensical lie as the other. acts, ii. , , says, that it descended in a mighty rushing wind, in the shape of cloven tongues: perhaps it was cloven feet. such absurd stuff is fit only for tales of witches and wizards.--author.] it has been the scheme of the christian church, and of all the other invented systems of religion, to hold man in ignorance of the creator, as it is of government to hold him in ignorance of his rights. the systems of the one are as false as those of the other, and are calculated for mutual support. the study of theology as it stands in christian churches, is the study of nothing; it is founded on nothing; it rests on no principles; it proceeds by no authorities; it has no data; it can demonstrate nothing; and admits of no conclusion. not any thing can be studied as a science without our being in possession of the principles upon which it is founded; and as this is not the case with christian theology, it is therefore the study of nothing. instead then of studying theology, as is now done, out of the bible and testament, the meanings of which books are always controverted, and the authenticity of which is disproved, it is necessary that we refer to the bible of the creation. the principles we discover there are eternal, and of divine origin: they are the foundation of all the science that exists in the world, and must be the foundation of theology. we can know god only through his works. we cannot have a conception of any one attribute, but by following some principle that leads to it. we have only a confused idea of his power, if we have not the means of comprehending something of its immensity. we can have no idea of his wisdom, but by knowing the order and manner in which it acts. the principles of science lead to this knowledge; for the creator of man is the creator of science, and it is through that medium that man can see god, as it were, face to face. could a man be placed in a situation, and endowed with power of vision to behold at one view, and to contemplate deliberately, the structure of the universe, to mark the movements of the several planets, the cause of their varying appearances, the unerring order in which they revolve, even to the remotest comet, their connection and dependence on each other, and to know the system of laws established by the creator, that governs and regulates the whole; he would then conceive, far beyond what any church theology can teach him, the power, the wisdom, the vastness, the munificence of the creator. he would then see that all the knowledge man has of science, and that all the mechanical arts by which he renders his situation comfortable here, are derived from that source: his mind, exalted by the scene, and convinced by the fact, would increase in gratitude as it increased in knowledge: his religion or his worship would become united with his improvement as a man: any employment he followed that had connection with the principles of the creation,--as everything of agriculture, of science, and of the mechanical arts, has,--would teach him more of god, and of the gratitude he owes to him, than any theological christian sermon he now hears. great objects inspire great thoughts; great munificence excites great gratitude; but the grovelling tales and doctrines of the bible and the testament are fit only to excite contempt. though man cannot arrive, at least in this life, at the actual scene i have described, he can demonstrate it, because he has knowledge of the principles upon which the creation is constructed. we know that the greatest works can be represented in model, and that the universe can be represented by the same means. the same principles by which we measure an inch or an acre of ground will measure to millions in extent. a circle of an inch diameter has the same geometrical properties as a circle that would circumscribe the universe. the same properties of a triangle that will demonstrate upon paper the course of a ship, will do it on the ocean; and, when applied to what are called the heavenly bodies, will ascertain to a minute the time of an eclipse, though those bodies are millions of miles distant from us. this knowledge is of divine origin; and it is from the bible of the creation that man has learned it, and not from the stupid bible of the church, that teaches man nothing. [the bible-makers have undertaken to give us, in the first chapter of genesis, an account of the creation; and in doing this they have demonstrated nothing but their ignorance. they make there to have been three days and three nights, evenings and mornings, before there was any sun; when it is the presence or absence of the sun that is the cause of day and night--and what is called his rising and setting that of morning and evening. besides, it is a puerile and pitiful idea, to suppose the almighty to say, "let there be light." it is the imperative manner of speaking that a conjuror uses when he says to his cups and balls, presto, be gone--and most probably has been taken from it, as moses and his rod is a conjuror and his wand. longinus calls this expression the sublime; and by the same rule the conjurer is sublime too; for the manner of speaking is expressively and grammatically the same. when authors and critics talk of the sublime, they see not how nearly it borders on the ridiculous. the sublime of the critics, like some parts of edmund burke's sublime and beautiful, is like a windmill just visible in a fog, which imagination might distort into a flying mountain, or an archangel, or a flock of wild geese.--author.] all the knowledge man has of science and of machinery, by the aid of which his existence is rendered comfortable upon earth, and without which he would be scarcely distinguishable in appearance and condition from a common animal, comes from the great machine and structure of the universe. the constant and unwearied observations of our ancestors upon the movements and revolutions of the heavenly bodies, in what are supposed to have been the early ages of the world, have brought this knowledge upon earth. it is not moses and the prophets, nor jesus christ, nor his apostles, that have done it. the almighty is the great mechanic of the creation, the first philosopher, and original teacher of all science. let us then learn to reverence our master, and not forget the labours of our ancestors. had we, at this day, no knowledge of machinery, and were it possible that man could have a view, as i have before described, of the structure and machinery of the universe, he would soon conceive the idea of constructing some at least of the mechanical works we now have; and the idea so conceived would progressively advance in practice. or could a model of the universe, such as is called an orrery, be presented before him and put in motion, his mind would arrive at the same idea. such an object and such a subject would, whilst it improved him in knowledge useful to himself as a man and a member of society, as well as entertaining, afford far better matter for impressing him with a knowledge of, and a belief in the creator, and of the reverence and gratitude that man owes to him, than the stupid texts of the bible and the testament, from which, be the talents of the preacher; what they may, only stupid sermons can be preached. if man must preach, let him preach something that is edifying, and from the texts that are known to be true. the bible of the creation is inexhaustible in texts. every part of science, whether connected with the geometry of the universe, with the systems of animal and vegetable life, or with the properties of inanimate matter, is a text as well for devotion as for philosophy--for gratitude, as for human improvement. it will perhaps be said, that if such a revolution in the system of religion takes place, every preacher ought to be a philosopher. most certainly, and every house of devotion a school of science. it has been by wandering from the immutable laws of science, and the light of reason, and setting up an invented thing called "revealed religion," that so many wild and blasphemous conceits have been formed of the almighty. the jews have made him the assassin of the human species, to make room for the religion of the jews. the christians have made him the murderer of himself, and the founder of a new religion to supersede and expel the jewish religion. and to find pretence and admission for these things, they must have supposed his power or his wisdom imperfect, or his will changeable; and the changeableness of the will is the imperfection of the judgement. the philosopher knows that the laws of the creator have never changed, with respect either to the principles of science, or the properties of matter. why then is it to be supposed they have changed with respect to man? i here close the subject. i have shown in all the foregoing parts of this work that the bible and testament are impositions and forgeries; and i leave the evidence i have produced in proof of it to be refuted, if any one can do it; and i leave the ideas that are suggested in the conclusion of the work to rest on the mind of the reader; certain as i am that when opinions are free, either in matters of govemment or religion, truth will finally and powerfully prevail. end of part ii the evolution of states an introduction to english politics _by the same author._ essays towards a critical method. new essays towards a critical method. winnowings from wordsworth. walt whitman: an appreciation. montaigne and shakespeare. (second edition, with additional essays on cognate subjects.) buckle and his critics: a sociological study. the saxon and the celt: a sociological study. modern humanists: essays on carlyle, mill, emerson, arnold, ruskin, and spencer. (fourth edition.) the fallacy of saving: a study in economics. the eight hours question: a study in economics. (second edition.) the dynamics of religion: an essay in english culture-history. by "m.w. wiseman." a short history of freethought, ancient and modern. (second edition: vols.) patriotism and empire. (third edition.) studies in religious fallacy. wrecking the empire. a short history of christianity. christianity and mythology. (second edition.) criticisms. vols. tennyson and browning as teachers. essays in ethics. essays in sociology. vols. letters on reasoning. (second edition.) did shakespeare write "titus andronicus"? pioneer humanists: essays on machiavelli, bacon, hobbes, spinoza, shaftesbury, mandeville, gibbon, and mary wollstonecraft. trade and tariffs. courses of study. chamberlain: a study. papers for the people. charles bradlaugh. by mrs. bradlaugh bonner. part ii. by j.m.r. pagan christs: studies in comparative hierology. (second edition, revised and expanded.) the meaning of liberalism. the evolution of states an introduction to english politics by j.m. robertson london: watts & co., johnson's court, fleet street, e.c. "the sociologist has three main quests--first, he must try to discover the conditions that determine mere aggregation and concourse. secondly, he must try to discover the law that governs social choices--the law, that is, of the subjective process. thirdly, he must try to discover also the law that governs the natural selection and the survival of choices--the law, that is, of the objective process." --_professor giddings._ contents page preface vii part i. political forces in ancient history chap. i.--the subject-matter ii.--roman political evolution iii.--greek political evolution iv.--the laws of socio-political development part ii. economic forces in ancient history chap. i.--roman economic evolution ii.--greek economic evolution part iii. culture forces in antiquity chap. i.--greece ii.--the saracens iii.--rome epilogue--a general view of decadence part iv. the case of the italian republics note on literature chap. i.--the beginnings ii.--the social and political evolution iii.--the political collapse part v. the fortunes of the lesser european states chap. i.--ideas of nationality and national greatness ii.--the scandinavian peoples iii.--the hansa iv.--holland § . the rise of the netherlands § . the revolt against spain § . the supremacy of dutch commerce § . home and foreign policy § . the decline of commercial supremacy § . the culture evolution § . the modern situation v.--switzerland § . the beginnings of union § . the socio-political evolution § . the modern renaissance vi.--portugal § . the rise and fall of portuguese empire § . the colonisation of brazil part vi. english history till the constitutional period chap. i.--before the great rebellion ii.--the rebellion and the commonwealth iii.--from the restoration to anne iv.--industrial evolution conclusion index preface the following treatise is an expansion, under a new title, of one originally published ( ) under the name of _an introduction to english politics_. several friendly reviewers of that work objected, not unjustly, that its title was something of a misnomer, or at least an imperfect indication of its contents. it had, as a matter of fact, originated remotely in a lecture delivered as preliminary to a course on "modern english politicians" (from bolingbroke to gladstone), the aim of the prefatory address being to trace in older politics, home and foreign, general laws which should partly serve as guides to modern cases, or at least as preparation for their scientific study; while the main course dealt with modern political problems as they have arisen in the careers and been handled by the measures of modern english statesmen. it was that opening exposition, developed into an essay, and published as a series of magazine articles, that had been further expanded into this treatise, by way of covering the ground more usefully; and the original name is therefore retained as a sub-title. it is perhaps unnecessary to explain that the book makes no pretension to being a complete or systematic treatment of political history, or of political forms and theories. the object in view from the first has been, not the technical anatomy or documentary history of institutions, but the bringing into light of the ruling forces in all political life, ancient and modern alike. it seeks to help the reader to fulfil the precept of montaigne: "_qu'il ne luy apprenne pas tant les histoires qu'à en juger._" since it was first written, there has been so much fresh sociological study of history that i need not repeat the justification originally offered for my undertaking. alike as to ancient and modern history, the effort of scholars is now more and more towards comprehension of historic causation in terms of determining conditions, the economic above all; so much so that i have profited somewhat in my revision from various recent works, and might with more leisure have done so more fully. revised as it is, however, the book may serve to expound views of history which are still not generally accepted, and to call in question fallacious formulas which seem to me still unduly common. on any view, much remains to be done before the statement of historic causation can reach scientific thoroughness; and it may well be that some of my theories will incur modification. all i claim for them is that they are made in the light of a study of the concrete process; and i am satisfied that fuller light is to be obtained only in that direction. in the end, doubtless, conflicts of historical interpretation will turn upon problems of psychology. a contemporary german expert of distinction, prof. lamprecht, in his able lectures on the problem _what is history?_ (eng. trans. ), lays it down that the main problem of every scientific history of mankind is the "deducing from the history of the most important communities of men the evolution of the breadth of consciousness"; and again that "the full historical comprehension of a single change or of a single phenomenon, with their historical significance, can only be acquired from the most general principles; that is to say, from the application of the highest universal-historical categories." if i understand prof. lamprecht aright, he here means simply that we properly understand the motivation of men in the past in terms of our own psychosis, conceived as in touch only with their data. this seems to me substantially sound. but on the other hand i doubt the utility of his apparent purpose of explaining modern historic developments in terms of special psychic changes or movements in communities, considered as forces. that way seems to lie reversion to the old and vain device of explaining the course of nations in terms of their "characters." in any case, however, we have prof. lamprecht's avowal that "it would be a study of great value to establish, by comparative work in universal history, what are the constantly recurring economic factors of each period which are so uniformly followed by the development of other higher intellectual values." that is as full a recognition of the "economic factor" as i am concerned to contend for, if it be understood that economic motives are on the one hand recognised as affecting social action in general, and on the other that varying forms of social machinery react variously on intellectual life. upon such hypotheses the following inquiry proceeds; to such conclusions it leads. obviously all critical exposition, historical or other, is an attempt to influence the psychic processes of the reader, to make him "feel" this and "think" that; and in this sense any resulting change of conduct means the play of "the psychic factor." but that is only another way of saying that the psychic factor is conditioned by material circumstances, by knowledge, and by ignorance. to insist on the perpetual social significance of all three is the general aim of this book. _september, ._ part i political forces in ancient history chapter i the subject matter § politics, in its most general and fundamental character, is the strife of wills on the ground of social action. as international politics is the sum of the strifes and compromises of states, so home politics is the sum of the strifes and compromises of classes, interests, factions, sects, theorists, in all countries and in all ages. in studying it, then, we study the evolution of an aggregate, a quasi-organism, in terms of the clashing forces of its units and of their spontaneous combinations. this may seem too obvious and simple a truth to need formal telling; and yet no truth is more often missed or set aside by writers who deal with political history. the past course of nations, when it is sought to be explained at all, is by two writers out of three accounted for by certain supposed qualities of character in the given nation as a whole, instead of by the specially conditioned play of forces common to all peoples.[ ] for instance, m. taine, in the preface to the first volume of his fascinating work, _les origines de la france contemporaine_, goes about to justify his own political indifferentism by stating that in eighty years his country had thirteen times changed its constitution. "_we_," he says, have done this; and "_we_ have not yet found that which suits _us_."[ ] it is here implied that a body of men collectively and concurrently seeking for a fixed constitution have failed, and that the failure is discreditable--that those who thus seek and fail have been badly employed. it is by implication denied that successive changes of a constitution may fitly be regarded as a process of growth and healthy adjustment of parts: the ideal of political health is assumed to be a state of fixity. thus does indifferentism, naturally if not necessarily, miss the point of view from which itself is to be studied as one of the forces whose conflict the true historian ought to analyse. there is no national "we" aiming collectively at a fixed and final constitution; nor are the successive constitutions of france as such more significant of failure or permanent harm than the successive changes in the professedly unchanged constitution of great britain, though the violent kinds of change are as such harmful. if m. taine had but applied with rigour the logic he once before prescribed, soundly if wittily, for all problems alike, he could not have begun his history with that delusive abstraction of a one-minded community, failing to achieve "their" or "its" purpose. "_je n'en sais rien_," he remarks with a shrug, over the protest of m. royer-collard that certain scientific reasoning will make frenchmen revolutionary; "_est-ce qu'il y a des français?_"[ ] in dead earnest he now assumes that france consists just of the single species "frenchmen," whose constitution-building is a corporate attempt to build a french house to live in; when all that is truly historical in his own book goes to show clearly enough that french constitutions, like all others, are products of ever-varying and conflicting passions and interests of sets of people in france who are "frenchmen" merely when they happen to act in concert against other geographical groups. at no moment were all of the french people consenting parties to any one of the thirteen constitutions. then there was no collective failure. of course m. taine knew this well enough in his capacity of narrator; but as teacher he could not escape from the rut dug for his thought by his fatalism. he must needs make the synthetic abstraction of "we," which excludes the political analysis essential to any practical explanation; and it inevitably followed that his generalisations were merely pseudo-biological, and not what is most wanted in history--sociological truth rooted in psychology and biology. in denuding himself alike of hopes and fears, m. taine really gave the great illustration of the truth of his own penetrating comment on mérimée,[ ] that he who will be duped by nothing ends in being the dupe of his distrust. he will not be duped by this ideal or that; he will not care enough for any to have a strong wish to see it realised; and so he comes to be duped by the wish to disprove all, to work down all sociology to the plane of cynical pseudo-biology. the enthusiastic amateur can show it, can convict the critic of hearing only the devil's advocate in every moral process,[ ] and of becoming at length the historic oracle of those, of all readers, who are most alien to his philosophy. such an outcome, in the work of such a critic, is vividly instructive. at worst, indeed, he has a positive value as the extremest reactionist against the merely partisan method of history, which is almost all we have had in england since the french revolution, down to the other day. after m. taine has passed, fools' paradises must needs fall in market value. but when the devil's advocate has made his round, we must still plough and eat, and the paradises must just be laid out for new sowing. the evil of theoretical extremes is not so much their falsehood as their irrelevance. if we are to instruct each other in conduct, it must be in terms of sympathies and antipathies; and if we are to profit by a study of politicians, who are among the most generally typical of men, and of politics, which is the expression of so much of life, we must go about it as humanists and not as fatalists. § humanity, however, will not suffice to save us from false philosophy if, as humanists, we seek to gain our polemical ends by m. taine's didactic methods. he, naturally so much of an analyst, took to pseudo-synthesis when he wished with little labour to discredit certain popular aspirations. but pseudo-synthesis is the favourite expository process of many men with ardent aspirations, and of many writers who are friendly enough to the aspirations of their fellows. by pseudo-synthesis i mean that process, above exemplified, of "cooking" an intricate moral problem by setting up one or more imaginary entities, to whose volition or potency the result is attributed. it was the method of medieval science; and it is still popular among the experts as well as the amateurs of historical science. it was the ordinary expedient of comte, in whose pages history becomes a jonsonian masque of personified abstractions; and buckle too often resorts to it. but hear a learned and judicious english liberal, not to be suspected of doctrinary extravagance:-- "as in time past rome had sacrificed domestic freedom that she might be the mistress of others, so now" [in the later empire] "to be universal she, the conqueror, had descended to the level of the conquered" [in respect of caracalla's edict giving to all subjects of the empire the rights of roman citizenship]. "but the sacrifice had not wanted its reward. from her came the laws and the language that had overspread the world; at her feet the nations laid the offerings of their labour; she was the head of the empire and of civilisation."[ ] the "she" of this passage i take to be as purely imaginary an entity as phlogiston; and it is not easy to see how a method of explanation which in physical science is found worse than barren can give any edification in the study of history. to say nothing of the familiar explanation that caracalla's sole motive in conferring the citizenship on the provincials was the desire to lay on them corresponding taxes,[ ] the proposition has no footing in political actualities. "rome's self-abnegation that she might romanise the world"[ ] expresses no fact in roman volition, thought, or deed; it is not the mention of a sentiment which swayed men's action, but the attempt to reduce a medley of actions to the semblance of a joint volition. there was no "rome" capable of "self-abnegation" and susceptible of "reward." why, then, should it be said? it is said either because the writer permits himself to fill in a perspective with a kind of pigment which he would not employ in his foreground, or because he is still too much under the sway of old methods when he is generalising conventional knowledge instead of analytically reaching new.[ ] either way the lapse is only too intelligible. and if an innovating expert, dealing with old facts, runs such risks, great must be those run by plain people when they seek to attain a generalised knowledge of facts which are the battle-ground of current ideals. only by perpetual analysis can we hope partly to escape the snare of the pseudo-synthetic, the traps of rhetoric and exegetic fiction. § the term "pseudo-synthesis" implies, of course, that there may be a true synthesis. what is necessary to such synthesis is that there shall have been a preliminary analysis; but a synthesis once justly made is the greatest of helps to new analyses. now there is one such which may safely be brought to bear on the study of practical politics, because it is an axiom alike of inorganic physics and of biology, and a commonplace of human science, though seldom used as a means of historic generalisation. this is the simple principle that all energy divides ostensibly into forces of attraction and of repulsion. [the principle thus stated should be compared with the theorem of kant as to the correlative forces of sociability and unsociability (_idee zu einer allgemein geschichte_), and the important and luminous formula of professor giddings, that all sociological processes, properly so called, turn upon "consciousness of kind" (_principles of sociology_, , rd ed. pp. - , and preface; and in earlier writings by professor giddings, there mentioned). the scientific value of that formula is obvious; but other ways of stating the case may still serve a purpose. the view in the text i find to have been partly anticipated by shaftesbury, _essay on the freedom of wit and humour_, , pt. iii, § (_characteristics_, ed. , i, pp. - ), who is followed by eusèbe salverte, _de la civilisation depuis les premiers temps historiques_, , p. . shaftesbury even anticipates in part the formula of professor giddings in the passage: "if anything be natural, in any creature or any kind, 'tis that which is preservative of the kind itself," and in the sequel. as professor giddings traces (pref. to rd ed. p. x) the first suggestion of his "consciousness of kind" to adam smith's _theory of the moral sentiments_, which is certainly in the line of descent from shaftesbury, there may really be a causal connection.] that principle obviously holds of the relations of men in society as it does of their muscular action and of their moral and intellectual life; and so fundamental is the fact that when we study human history in view of it, we find it more and more difficult to suppose that it will ever cease to hold. that is to say, it is almost impossible to conceive state of life in which the forces of attraction and repulsion shall not operate energetically in the moral and intellectual relations of human beings. from the primitive and the barbaric stages in which the sight of an alien moves the savage to such destructive rage as is seen in some dogs at the sight of others, or in which a difference of personal odour rouses a no less spontaneous repulsion--as in chinese against europeans, or in europeans against chinese[ ]--down to the fierce battle in self-governing countries over every innovating law, or that strife of opinion in which these lines play their part, the clash of opposing tendencies is perpetual, ubiquitous, inevitable. and so difficult is it to conceive any cessation that at once many observers leap from the general principle to the particular conclusion that all the _modes_ in which the action and reaction, the attractions and repulsions of individuals and groups, have operated in the past must needs operate in the future. they conclude, that is, that the particular phenomenon of war, above all, is chronic, and can never definitely disappear. thus m. zola, looking around him and finding strife everywhere, decides that all the past _forms_ of strife are inevitably recurrent.[ ] it may be well at the outset to insist that the general principle involves no such particular necessity. war is simply a form in which the instincts of attraction and repulsion have operated in human societies during ages in which certain psychological and physiological types have been normal. it may very well recur, with growing infrequency, for a long time to come; but it is not rationally to be regarded as a necessary function of the grand biological forces. what does seem certain is a different thing--that the forces of attraction and repulsion will always operate in _some_ form; and that the very fact of their finding less expression in the mode of physical strife will imply their coming into play in other modes, such as the strife of ideals, doctrines, and class interests as they are expressed in politics without bloodshed. the general law is that the forces of attraction and repulsion, as exhibited in human thought or feeling, run during the earlier stages of growth in channels which may be broadly regarded as animal; and that when altered political and social conditions partly or wholly close these channels, the biological forces open for themselves new ones. war is precisely the blindest, the least rational, the least human of all the forms of human conflict, inasmuch as it is the collective clashing of communities whose members, divided among themselves by many real differences of interest, bias, and attraction, are set against each other, as wholes--if by anything higher than animal pugnacity--either by the mere ideals or appetites of rulers or leaders, or by more or less imaginary differences of interest, seen under the moral illusion of the most primitive of social instincts--the _sensus gregis_. as evolution proceeds, the blind form may be expected to disappear, and the more reasoned forms--that is, the inter-social and intellectual--to develop. footnotes: [footnote : it is one of the shortcomings of buckle that, though he at least once (_introd. to hist. of civ. in eng._, routledge's ed. p. ) recognises the futility of explaining history in terms of national character, he repeatedly lapses to that method, and speaks of peoples as if they were of one will, bent, and mind. (ed. cited, edit. notes pp. , , , , , , etc.). see below, pt. iii, ch. iii, second note, as to eduard meyer.] [footnote : similarly de tocqueville begins _l'ancien régime et la révolution_ with "_les français ont fait...._" (avant-propos, e éd. p. ), and makes the successors of the revolutionists "_les mêmes français_" (p. ). soon he makes the revolution an entity (p. ). compare with taine's passage the programme of the first number of le play's _la réforme sociale_, (cited by h. higgs, _quarterly journal of economics_, boston, july, , p. ), which might almost have been written by taine. in the case of le play the ideal of a quasi-patriarchal order, very stable and very fixed, led to an attitude resembling at points that of taine. it is easy to see how the natural recoil from political turmoil has, since the french revolution, developed successive schools such as those of saint simon, comte, and le play, all aiming at stability and order, all seeking to elbow out the cosmic force of change. in taine's case the result was an acceptance of spencer's "administrative nihilism."] [footnote : _les philosophes classiques du xixe siècle en france_, ième éd. p. .] [footnote : _lettres de prosper mérimée à une inconnue_, préf. _end_. when, however, m. taine wrote on sainte-beuve's death ( ), he laid down, as one of the necessities of the search for "the true truth," this very determination "to be the dupe of nothing and nobody, above all of oneself" (_derniers essais_, p. ). years before an acute critic had said of his literary criticism: "m. taine, at bottom, let us say it with bated breath, is the dupe of himself when he supposes himself to have given a rigorous formula, an exact definition, a chemical analysis of his author" (frédéric morin, _les hommes et livres contemporains_, , p. ). compare the brochure of professor edouard droz, _la critique littéraire et la science_, , discussed in the present writer's _new essays towards a critical method_, , p. _sq._] [footnote : see _napoléon et ses détracteurs_, par le prince napoléon, p. , and _passim_.] [footnote : professor bryce, _the holy roman empire_, th ed. p. .] [footnote : gibbon, ch. vi (bohn ed. i, pp. , - ). in the same way, julius cæsar, and the triumvirs after him, were in their day moved to extend citizenship in italy because of the falling-off in the free roman population. widened citizenship meant a wider field for italian recruiting. at that time the extension involved not taxation, but immunities; but, according to cicero, antony received great sums from the sicilians in payment for the privilege he conferred upon them. _ad atticum_, xiv, ; _philipp._ ii, .] [footnote : bryce, p. .] [footnote : a different explanation holds in the case of hegel, who--after very pointedly affirming that "nothing great in the world has been accomplished without passion" (_leidenschaft_), in the sense of individual interest and self-seeking aim, and that "an individual is such and such a one, not a man in general, for that is not an existence, but one in particular" (_philos. der geschichte_, te aufl. p. )--proceeds to express historical processes in terms of universal spirit, abstract universality, and so forth. here the trouble is the cherished tendency to verbal abstraction.] [footnote : cp. professor h.a. giles, _the civilisation of china_, , pp. - . smell appears to be an insuperable bar to any general association of "whites" with "blacks," and it probably enters into many racial repugnances. compare the curious device of lombard women to set up by an artificial bad smell a repugnance on the part of their alien suitors such as they themselves may have felt. gummere, _germanic origins_, , p. .] [footnote : cited by tolstoy, _the kingdom of god is within you_, ch. vi, end.] chapter ii roman political evolution § a survey of the ancient history best known to us may help to make clearer the fatality of strife and the impossibility of solving it save by transcending the physical plane. the habit of summing up all roman history as so many planned actions of "the romans," or of "rome," is in singular contrast with the imbroglio of the records. in the social stage discovered to us by the analysis of the oldest known institutions, "early" rome is already an artificial political organism, far removed from the simple life of tribal barbarism.[ ] there are three tribes; the very name of tribe, it may be, comes from the number three[ ] in the flection _tribus_; and the subdivisions are fixed by the numbers three and ten.[ ] behind the artificial "tribe" is a past in which, it may be, a group of villages forms the _pagus_ or settlement.[ ] already privilege and caste are fully established, even between classes of freemen; and only by inference can we reach the probable first bases of civic union among the ruling caste. they were clearly a caste of conquerors. their _curiæ_, apparently the oldest form of group after the family or the clan,[ ] are artificially arranged, numbering thirty, each _curia_ containing nominally a hundred _gentes_, each _gens_ nominally ten families. eduard meyer (_geschichte des alterthums_, ii, ) decides for the view of l. lange, that the historic appellation of roman citizens, _quirites_, derives from _curia_. the ancients had several theories as to the name. one (festus) was that the sabine goddess curis gave her name to the sabine town cures (cp. athenê, athenai), whence, according to the legend, had come a band under titus tatius, who conquered the capitoline and quirinal hills, and had for tribe-god quirinus. cp. ihne, _early rome_, p. . mommsen (eng. tr. , i, , , _notes_) has secured currency for the other tradition, argued for by f.w. newman (_regal rome_, , pp. - ), that the root is the sabine word _curis, quiris_, a spear. for this somewhat unplausible theory there is support in the fact that in the cognate gaelic _coir_, pronounced quîr, means a spear, and that there is derived thence _curiadh_, a warrior. mommsen is followed by merivale, _general history of rome_, th ed. p. ; and greenidge, _roman public life_, p. . pott and becker, who derived _quirites_ from _curia_, explain the latter word as _co-viria_, the band of warriors. and as the view that "athenê" comes from "athenai," not _vice versâ_, has the stronger claims to acceptance, the more acceptable presumption is that "curis" and quirinus evolved from the _curia_. if _quirites_ meant spearmen, how could cæsar be understood to cow mutineers by simply addressing them as quirites [= citizens]? the curia theory is supported by the facts that "the roman constitutional tradition ... makes the division into curies alone originate with the origin of the city"; that it "appears as an essential part of the latin municipal system;" and that of all the old divisions it seems to be the only one that "really fulfilled important functions in the primitive constitutional organisation" (mommsen, b. i, ch. v, pp. - ). these _curiæ_ may be conceived as derived from inner tribal or clan groups formed in the conquering stage, since they are ostensibly united by their collective or curial _sacra_, the rites for which the grouped _gentes_--who each have their private _sacra_--assemble in a special place, under a special priest. they still retain the usage of a common banquet,[ ] the earliest form of collective religion known to us.[ ] apart from the members of the _curiæ_ are the conquered _plebs_,[ ] "the many" not enslaved, but payers of tribute; without share in the _curiæ_ or vote in the _comitia_, or assembly, and without part in the curial or other _sacra_. on this head there has been some gratuitous confusion. schwegler (i, _sq._) gives convincing reasons for the view that in early times the plebs were not members of the _curiæ_. cp. ihne, as cited, pp. , ; and fustel de coulanges, p. _sq._ meyer (ii, , ) asserts, on the contrary, without any specification of periods, that the _curiæ_ included plebeians as well as patricians. the contradiction seems to arise out of inattention to chronology, or a misreading of mommsen. that historian rightly sets forth in his history (b. ii, ch. i; eng. trans. ed. , i, - ) that the plebs were not admitted into the _comitia curiata_ before the "servian" period; adding that these bodies were "at the same time" almost totally deprived of their prerogatives. in his _römisches forschungen_, , i, _sq._, he shows that they were admitted in the "_historic_ period"--when the _comitia_ in question had ceased to have any legal power, and when, as he elsewhere states, the admission "practically gave little more than the capacity for adrogation" (_römisches staatsrecht_, bd. iii, abth. i, p. ). here again he states that "to equal rights in the curies, especially to the right of vote in the comitia, the plebeians attained only in the later times" (_id._ p. ). yet professor pelham, in asserting (p. ; cp. p. ) that "the _primitive_ roman people of the thirty _curiæ_ included all the freemen of the community, _simple as well as gentle_," gives the note: "the view here taken on the vexed question of the purely patrician character of the _curiæ_ is that of mommsen (_röm. forschungen_, vol. i)." when this error is corrected, the question ceases to be vexed. schwegler has disposed of the blunder of dionysius, who ascribes to the plebeians a share in the _curiæ_ from the beginning; and it is not disputed that they were allowed to enter when the _comitia curiata_ had been practically superseded by the _comitia centuriata_. it is to be noted that the denial of the inclusion of the plebeians in the original _curiæ_ does not apply to the _clientes_, whose status, though non-patrician, had been different from that of the true plebs. m. delaunay, who argues that the plebeians were all along admitted to the _curiæ_, adds the qualification: "doubtless not the entire mass of the plebeians, but only those who were ... attached to the gentes" (robiou et delaunay, _les institutions de l'ancienne rome_, , i, ). but who were these _gentilitia_ if not the _clientes_? (cp. _loc. cit._ p. ). the _populus_ at this stage, then, is not "the people" in the modern sense; it is the aggregate of the privileged _curiæ_, and does not include the plebs,[ ] which at this stage is not even part of the army. but a separate quasi-plebeian class, the _clientes_ of the patricians, are in a state of special dependence upon the latter, and in a subordinate fashion share their privileges. the _clientes_ have very much the air of being primarily the servile or inferior part of the early clan or _gens_, as distinct from its "gentlemen." cp. burton, _hist. of scotland_, viii, - , as to the lower and the higher (duniewassal) orders in the scottish highland clans. "in the old life of the _pagus_ and the _gens_ the weaker sought the protection of the stronger by a willing vassalage" (greenidge, _roman public life_, p. ). the _clientes_ are the nominal as distinct from the real "family" of the chief or _patronus_. m. delaunay (_les institutions de l'ancienne rome_, as cited, i, ) thinks with mommsen (so also dupond, pp. - ) that they were mainly freedmen, but gives no evidence. as to the meaning and etymology of the word (_clientes_ from _cluere_ or _cliere_, "to listen" or "obey"), cp. newman, _regal rome_, p. ; ortolan, p. ; mommsen, _römisches staatsrecht_, iii, i, , p. . the theory that the plebeians were all _clientes_ (ortolan, pp. , ) seems untenable, though mommsen (_staatsrecht_, iii, i, ) pronounces that "all non-patricians were clients"; and meyer (ii, ) appears to acquiesce. only in theory can the mass of the plebs have been clients at any time. cp. fustel de coulanges, pp. - . the _clientes_, it seems clear, were as such admitted to the _comitia_, whereas the plebs were not. see the citations of fustel de coulanges from livy, ii, - ; also iii, (dupond, p. , doubts the fact). on any view, the _clientela_ rapidly dwindled, passing into the plebs (cp. dupond, p. ; livy, vi, ). as to its early status see fustel de coulanges, p. _sq._ ortolan, after representing all plebeians as clients, speaks (p. ) of plebeians belonging to no gens (so aulus gellius, x, ). wealth is not yet a matter of land-owning--the main element of property is cattle;[ ] and the bulk of the land is _ager occupatorius_, a great "common" on which all men's cattle feed. the voteless free plebeian has simply his home and homestead, "toft and croft," the latter being two yokes (= five roods) of land, on which he raises the grain and olives and vegetables that feed his household.[ ] this goes to his heir. here arises another problem. e.w. robertson (as last cited) decides that the "two yokes" can have been only "the homestead, and could not have included the farm or property attached to it." the _heredium_, he holds, following pliny (_hist. nat._, xix, ), and citing livy (vi, ), was only in the _hortus_, the house and garden, "and not in the arable or pasture land." but surely the arable was on a different footing from the pasture land (_ager compascus_). corn was not grown in common, unless it were by the _gentes_ (mommsen, vol. i, pp. , , ). the solution seems to be that given by greenidge, that as "the _heredium_ consisted only of two _jugera_ (festus, p. ), an amount obviously insufficient for the maintenance of a family," "there must have been _ager privatus_ as well, owned by some larger unit, and this unit would naturally have been the gens" (_roman public life_, p. ). among general historians of rome mommsen seems to be the first to note this circumstance, and he gives neither details nor evidence. schwegler, discussing (i, ) the theory of puchta that there was no private property in rome before the "arrival" of the plebs, admits that among the ancient germans the land was yearly apportioned among the groups as such, but finds that "roman tradition tells of nothing of the kind." (so greenidge, p. .) in any case, mommsen, while insisting that "the fields (_sic_) of the gentes (_geschlechts-genossen_) in the earliest period lay together" (_staatsrecht_, iii, i, ; cp. p. ), admits that such gentile ownership had at an early stage disappeared (_früh verschwundenen_). there was then no communal tillage in the historic period. cincinnatus, in the legend, returns to the plough on his own croft. further, the early complaints cited by livy as to the "two yokes" being "hardly enough to raise a roof on or to make a grave in" were addressed by the tribunes on behalf of plebeians to patricians who each had above five hundred yokes. the non-client plebeians then had no share in the land of the _gentes_ or clans, being themselves in large part dispossessed by conquest. meyer (ii, ) pronounces that the plot of two yokes was, "of course, no farm, but a kitchen-garden," adding: "it is also the personal land of the small farmers and day-labourers who look after the lands of the large landholders, not the original private holding in contrast to the mark belonging in common to the _gens_ (_geschlecht_) or commune (_gauverband_)." but on the previous page meyer says that "the land was settled not by the _gentes_, but communally (_genossenschaftlich_) by unions of equal freemen." if these, then, were the _curiæ_ (the mark, says meyer in this connection, did _not_ belong to the _gentes_), they did not include the plebs; and we come back to the datum that the free plebeian had no means of support save his five roods and what beasts he had on the public pasture. the pasture-land, again, is surmised by mommsen (ch. xiii, p. ) to have been small in area relatively to the arable-land communally owned and cultivated by the _gentes_ or clans--a proposition irreconcilable with the evidence as to the quantity of cattle. as to the two yokes of land, schwegler decides (i, ) that it was "nowise inadequate" as arable-land, in view of the extraordinary fruitfulness of italy, and, further, of the circumstance that "the free burghers had also the use of the common land" (for pasture). we are to remember that italian land could yield two crops in a year. (niebuhr, _lebensnachrichten_, ii, , cited by schwegler.) on the general problem as to why or how the land once communally tilled ceased to be so, we have still no better light than the old generalisation of hobbes in reply to his own question: "upon what impulsives, when all was equally every man's in common, men did rather think it fitting that every man should have his inclosure?" "i found," he puts it, "that from a community of goods there must needs arise contention whose enjoyment should be greatest, and from that contention all kind of calamities must unavoidably ensue." [epistle dedicatory to _philosophical rudiments concerning government and civil society_ (translation of _de cive_), . cp. goldwin smith, _the united states_, , p. .] the patrician, of course, had a larger homestead, at least "four yokes" in the earlier stages; later seven; later still twenty-five.[ ] but the patricians were "a class of occupying landholders rather than proprietary landowners."[ ] the "public land" was literally so, save in so far as the patricians would have the ampler (and often untaxed or low-rented) use of it for their much larger herds;[ ] or, it may be, for cultivation by their clients or slaves. _heredia_, however, were saleable, and herein lay one usual path to the dispossession and enslavement of freemen; while at all stages there went on that pressure of population on means of subsistence which underlies all economic history. thus far, however, mere conquest has done less to impoverish and enslave the mass than the economic process is to do later. the conquerors, probably highland herdsmen to begin with, take estates for themselves, but leave the mass of the conquered in possession or use of land for which they pay tribute, and upon which they can independently live.[ ] and thus far they live mainly as small pastoral farmers.[ ] trade and artisanship were for long but slightly developed, and were mainly in the hands of slaves, dependent "clients," or foreigners; and artisans and aliens were not admitted into the legions.[ ] the ruling caste occupied, potentially[ ] if not constantly, the city proper, the two or three fortified hills[ ] on which at this stage it stands. they were certainly not the founders. the palatine and the quirinal hills had been occupied by latins and sabines respectively long before the time traditionally assigned to the "founding" of rome; and there were communities there before them. modern excavators trace many successive strata of civilisation before that which we call the roman; and the probability is that the romans of history, like the kindred sabines, conquered a previous city "aristocracy" of kindred race, whose place and possessions they took. the previous inhabitants had presumably grown weak for self-defence by reason of some such disintegrating economic evolution as was soon to affect the conquerors themselves. such a disintegration may well have taken place in the case of alba longa, of which the prior supremacy seems entirely credible.[ ] but before alba longa there had been a civilisation[ ] on the roman hills which perhaps outwent in economic evolution anything attained in the roman period until the last century of the republic. this was already inferred in the eighteenth century by ferguson (_history of the roman republic_, , ch. i, _note_; perhaps following maffei [ ], cited by schwegler, i, ), from the nature of the remains of the great _cloacæ_, which he held could not have been built by any of the early roman kings. that view is since adopted by various authorities; see middleton's _remains of ancient rome_, , i, - ; and robiou et delaunay, _les institutions de l'ancienne rome_, , vol. ii, ch. i, § . cp. merivale, _general history of rome_, pp. - ; burton, _etruscan bologna_, , pp. - . livy (i, ) ascribes great _cloacæ_ to the legendary tarquin the elder. professor ettore pais, on the other hand, confidently decides that the _cloaca maxima_ belongs to the republican period, and dates it about b.c. in any case, we know that an ante-roman civilisation underlies the historic, and may now decide with mr. mahaffy that "as civilisation of some kind was vastly older on the hill of troy than any of us had imagined, so the site of every historic city is likely to have been the habitation of countless generations" (_survey of greek civ._ , p. ). § there had in fact been a "decline and fall of rome" before the rome we know began to be. relatively to their predecessors, the early romans were even as the northerners who in a later age were to capture historic rome--vigorous barbarians beginning a new era on a footing of fraternity in conquest; and the condition of their early success as state-builders seems to have been precisely the joining of several tribe-groups in a real federation,[ ] securing local peace as between the hill-holders. it has been said that rome grew up without any known aid from men of political genius such as solon.[ ] but men of genius have counted for something in all stages of upward human evolution. the guiders of early rome are lost in a cloud of myth and fable; but some man or men of civic faculty there must have been to shape tendency, though doubtless a main factor in the early union was the simple _collocation_ of the hills first fortified. granting that servius tullius is a mythical king, the elaborate constitution assigned to him stood for _some_ planning by able men, and has several main points in common with that given to athens by solon. whatever were the part played by individual leaders, roman or etruscan, there clearly came into play in early rome as in athens the important factor of mixture of stocks. romans and sabines united to begin with; and the conquered plebs, destined later to enter the constitution and share in all the civic offices, represented some such source of recuperation to the roman aristocracy as did the saxons to that of england after the norman conquest. if we add the probable factor of an etruscan element, rome is to be conceived as standing for a ruling class of more various faculty than was to be found in any of the rival communities singly. the progressive absorption of the most enterprising of the plebeians was again, probably, an exception to the rule of italic life as to that of other races, so that in following the class struggles of rome we are to note not so much the violence of the process as the fact that, so far as it went, it was relatively fortunate. and its success, again, is conceivably due to the fact, among others, that from an early period the region of the seven defensible hills was a refuge or centre for men breaking away from the other italian communities, where conservatism held firm. behind the legend of the flocking of all manner of "broken men" to the standard of romulus lies the probability that the ancient "asylum" behind the capitol brought a variety of types to the place; and as in athens so in rome, such variety of stock might well raise the level of faculty. but it was a faculty for aggression. given the initial federation of romans and sabines, the one general force of comity or cohesion, apart from the more public cults, is the bond of mere collective antagonism to other communities. the total polity is one of war; and never in the history of civilisation has that ground of comity long averted the economic process by which social inequality deepens and widens. it is thus entirely credible that, through this economic process, which we shall trace later, the early roman polity came to a pass at which its conquest by etruscan "kings" was welcomed by the plebs, sinking into poverty or held in outlawry under primitive "capitalistic" exploitation. there is no clear historic record of the process; but all the better evidence goes to prove its occurrence.[ ] the most plausible theory of the constitution ascribed to servius tullius is that it was imposed by etruscan conquerors. the earlier romans had been quasi-sacerdotally ruled by priest-kings of the primitive type, "kings of the sacrifice," whose religious powers were balanced by the secular interest of the patrician heads of families--themselves priests of their family cults. the "servian" constitution put down the _rex sacrificulus_, divided the city into four tribes, and its territory into twenty-six districts, each under a headman or headmen. the city at the same time was in part new walled, and the seven hills united; while the mass of the free population were divided into five classes according to their property, and enrolled for military purposes in "centuries." in the first and richest class were forty centuries of men above forty-six for the defence of the city, and forty of younger men for service in the field; while the second, third, and fourth classes were divided into twenty centuries each, and the fifth class into thirty. the poorest of all were grouped in a separate century, the "proletarians," or "breeders," without military duties; and the trumpeters, armourers, and carpenters in four more. new assemblies, the _comitia centuriata_, were formed, in which all members of the centuries shared, the old _comitia curiata_ being thus virtually superseded. the military organisation was made the basis of a fiscal one, in which the classes were taxed on the capital value of their property. as freedom from direct taxation was the mark of the ancient "free" communities in general, the whole arrangement seems to be one that only a conqueror could have imposed; and the tradition ran that servius was regarded as the friend of the poor, who made his birthday an annual festival. but plebeian distress was probably not the sole, perhaps not the primary, factor in the convulsion. all along, the process of inequality had gone on among plebeians and patricians alike, some of the former rising to wealth and some of the latter sinking to relative poverty. thus arises in effect the struggle of a "middle class" to share the political and social privileges of the "upper"; and there is reason to think that the etruscan conquest was furthered by rich plebeians as against the patricians. the new constitution was what the greeks called a "timocracy," or "rule of property"; and though in respect of the _comitia centuriata_ plebeians were admitted to the franchise, it was under such provisions as to voting that the richer classes easily held the balance of power.[ ] at the same time the patricians retained the religious power of the old kings, as custodians of the ritual mysteries--a great source of dominion. thus the crisis was only temporarily relieved, and the struggle was renewed again and again, both under and after the kings. we can broadly divine that the anti-patrician rule of the king, who would rely on the plebs, unified against him the patricians or "free" citizens, who sought to keep down the masses; while, on the other hand, the increasing outlaw plebs was unified by its sheer need.[ ] as to the rule of the kings, whether native or etruscan, no exact knowledge is now possible. we can but trace some of their functions in certain constitutional forms. thus the senate, or council of the elders, appears to have been the council of the king, selected by him, but capable of nominating his successor.[ ] whatever were its original function, it became in time the supreme power in the state, growing alike in numbers and in power, overruling or eclipsing the _comitia curiata_, _comitia centuriata_, and other bodies in which the general mass, first of patrician citizens and later of enfranchised plebeians, were enrolled.[ ] but it is not through the complicated archæology of the roman constitution, latterly compiled with such an infinity of scholarly labour, that the nature of roman evolution is really to be known. the technique of the system resulted from an endless process of compromise among social forces; and it is in the actual clash and play of those forces, as revealed in the simple records, that the human significance of it all is to be felt. in this way we substitute for a vague and false conception of unitary growth one of perpetual strife of classes, interests, and individualities. in the doubtful transition period, as the tradition goes, it is in the time of discontented plebeian subjection, after the expulsion of the king ( b.c.), that the etruscan enemy captures the city ( ); and the surmise that the battle of lake regillus was not really a roman victory[ ] is partly strengthened by the fact that soon after it there occur the division into twenty-five tribes, the tumults of the nexi, and the successful secession of the plebs, ending in their incorporation, with two tribunes to represent their interests ( ). there is a clear presumption that only from a weakened patriciate, forced to seek union, could the plebs have won their tribunate and enfranchisement. on the other hand, it is after victories over the volscians that the consul spurius cassius, who had proposed to divide among landless men the land conquered from the hernicans, is said to have been executed ( ) by the triumphant aristocracy; and it is in another period of security, when the veientines and sabines are depressed ( ), that the tribune cneius genucius is murdered for having ventured to bring a consular to trial. always we are in presence of a brutal caste, in the main utterly selfish, some of whose members are at all times as prone to the use of the dagger as an italian _camorra_ of our own day. yet it is by the forcing of concessions on this caste that the roman polity is kept vigorous and adaptable in comparison with those of the surrounding states which rome subordinated or overran. while rome thrives, a new project for popular law reform is defeated ( ); and it is after cincinnatus, according to the legend, barely saves the state ( ) that the tribunes are raised from five to ten, and the land is divided among the poor ( ); though at the same time decemvirs are appointed and the conservative twelve (at first ten) tables are drawn up ( - ). thus partially strengthened, the plebs are able soon to force the abdication of the decemvirate ( ) by the old menace of their withdrawal; and for a time the commonalty sufficiently holds its own, getting ( ) the right of marriage with patricians, and ( ) the institution of military tribunes with consular power;[ ] though fresh distribution of land is prevented, and the patricians learn to divide the tribunes against each other. thus class dissension goes on till the gauls capture the city ( ), multitudes of the romans flying to veii. then it is that the plebeian party, after the gauls have gone, are willing to transfer the seat of government to veii; and the threat would doubtless win them some concessions in the rebuilding of rome. but population always blindly increases; and the cancer of poverty spreads, despite the chronic planting of colonies in subject territory. manlius is executed for trying to relieve debtors; but some land is reluctantly distributed. new wars create new popular distress, and new colonies fail to relieve it. at length the licinian laws, relieving debtors and limiting estates, are proposed ( ), and after nine years of agitation are passed at the crisis ( ) at which the gauls (who themselves had in the meantime undergone dissensions) again attack rome; while the powers of the consuls (limited in by the appointment of two censors) are now further limited by the creation of a prætor (patrician) and of curule _ædiles_, alternately taken from the two strata. this makes a temporary palliation, and in time the now privileged plebeians[ ] lean to the patrician side and status; while fresh wars with hernicans, gauls, etruscans, and samnites check class strife, and the patricians recover preponderance, passing a law ( ) to check "new men." this is immediately followed by counter measures, limiting interest to ten per cent. and putting a five per cent. tax on manumissions; but the eternal distress of debtors is renewed, and a vain attempt is made to meet it ( ) by state loans, and again by reducing interest to five per cent. ( ). increase of plebeian poverty again causes reactions, and after a mutiny futile laws are passed prohibiting interest altogether ( ); the dictator publilius carries popular political laws ( ) checking the power of the senate, and debtors are once more protected ( ). after many wars, checking all domestic progress, popular distress causes a last secession of the plebs ( ) and new political concessions to them; but still wars multiply, till all italy is romanised ( ). the now mixed warlike aristocracy of birth, wealth, and office monopolises power in the senate; and the residual plebs gradually ceases to be a distinct moral force, its last great struggle being made under the gracchi, to whom it gives no valid support. if we consider this evolution purely as a play of domestic political forces, we recognise it from first to last as a simple conflict of class needs and interests, partially modified at times by movements of true public spirit on the part of such men as the patricians who supported the licinian laws, and such men as the gracchi. the state-organism is the result of the struggles and pressures of its elements. what happened in the chronic readjustments was never a democratisation of the state, but at most an institutional protection of the poorer plebeians, and an admission of the richer to something like equal status with the optimates. never was the "people" really united by any common home interest beyond the need of extorting some privileges. only to that extent were the richer plebeians at one with the poorer; and there can be little doubt that as soon as the former secured the privileges they craved they tended to abuse them as the patricians had done. there was no _personnel_ adequate to the effective working of the licinian laws in face of a perpetual process of conquest which infallibly evoked always the instinct of acquisition, and never the science which might have controlled it. the early division of the state-territory into twenty-five tribes ( ), of whom twenty-one were rural, determined the limitation of the political problem to the simple sharing of land; and every effort of public-spirited men to arrest the aggregation of lands in the hands of a few meant a convulsive explosion of resistance by the wealthy. from the polonian prattle of cicero to his son we can gather how all schemes of reconstruction were viewed by the ruling class, whether in retrospect or prospect. the slaying of tiberius gracchus by scipio nasica is a standing theme of praise;[ ] the lesson of the course of things social towards a steep sunderance of "haves" and "have-nots" is angrily evaded. cicero knew as well as any the need for social reconstruction in rome;[ ] and he repeatedly records the sagacity of lucius marcus philippus, who had been tribune and consul in cicero's boyhood. as consul, philippus had resisted the attempts of m. livius drusus to reform the senate and provide for the poorer citizens and the italians; but inasmuch as he had during his tribuneship avowed the fact that there were not left two thousand men in the state who owned property, cicero denounces the avowal as pernicious.[ ] the ideal aristocratic course was to resist all political change and slay those who attempted it--drusus as the gracchi before him. it was as a consummation of that policy that there exploded the so-called marsian or social war, in which rome and the italian states around her grappled and tore for years together like their ancestors of the tribal period; whereafter marians and sullans in turn rent rome, till sulla's iron dictatorship, restoring class supremacy, marked the beginning of the end of self-governing institutions, and prepared for the day of autocracy, which was not to come without another agony of long-protracted civil war. it is the supreme proof of the deadliness of the path of conquest that for most romans the end of roman "freedom" was a relief. § the effect of continuous foreign war in frustrating democracy is here plain. on the one hand, the peasant-farmers are reduced to debt and slavery by their inability to farm their lands in war-time, while the patrician's lands are worked by his slaves. on the other hand, their distress is met by a share in the lands conquered; and after the soldiers are allowed pay ( b.c.) they are more and more ready to join in conquest. not only is popular discontent put off by the prospect of foreign plunder, but the perpetual state of aggressive war, while tending first to pauperise most of the small cultivators who make the army, breeds a new public spirit on a low plane, a sinister fraternity of conquest. ethics must needs worsen throughout the state when the primitive instinct of strife developed into a policy of plunder; and worsened ethics means a positive weakening of a society's total strength. there is no lesson that men are slower to learn--and this naturally, because they see the success of unjust conquest--yet there is no truth easier to prove from history. early rome was strong as against strong enemies, because not only were its people hardily bred, but the majority were on the whole satisfied that they had just laws: the reciprocal sense of recognised _rights_ sustained public spirit at the possible maximum. but the rights are thoroughly selfish at best; and it is the diversion of their selfishness to the task of continuous conquest that "saves" the community from early dissolution, preserving it for the life of dominion, which in turn destroys the old forces of cohesion, and leaves a community fit only for subjection to a military autocracy. the society of mutual selfish rights has a measure of cohesion of its own, up to the point of conflict between the "haves" and the "have-nots." an outwardly similar cohesion can, indeed, be sustained for a time by mere concurrence in piracy; but it lies in the very nature of society that union so engineered, cohesion so secured, is fleeting. men whose main discipline is the practice of tyranny over aliens become simply incapable of strict reciprocity towards kin, and there must ensue either internecine strife or the degradation of the weaker elements, or a sequence of these results. this is what happened in rome. one of the first political signs of the contagion of the life of rapine in the later republic is the growth of public bribery as a means to further wealth. administrative posts being the chief of these means, candidates for them set about buying votes in the modern manner.[ ] as early as b.c. the law against canvassing by candidates[ ] (_lex de ambitu_) suggests the recognition of electoral corruption; and later there followed a whole series of futile vetoes--futile because the social conditions grew always morally worse. the _lex Æmilia bæbia_ ( b.c.) forbade all money gifts by candidates; and twenty-three years later another law decreed that offenders should be exiled. this also failing, there followed the _leges tabellariæ_, establishing the ballot ( - ). still the disease persisted, because there was no stop now possible to the career of conquest, which had undermined the very instincts whereon law depends; and on the treacherous struggle for place and pelf by way of bribery there supervened the direct grapple over the ill-gotten gains. the roman ruling class had evolved into a horde of filibustering fortune-hunters, as did the greeks under and after alexander; and the political sequels of despotism and civil war were substantially the same. the process was gradual, and the phenomena are at times apt to delude us. when a political machinery was set up that conduced to systematic and extending warfare in which the commonwealth was often at stake, the community had a new albeit fatal bond of cohesion, and the destructive or repulsive energies for generations found a wide field outside of the state. it is when the aristocratic republic, succeeding finally in the long struggle with carthage for the wealth of sicily and spain and the control of the mediterranean, has further overrun greece and pretty well exhausted the immediate fields of conquest, that the forces of repulsion again begin to work destructively within the body politic itself, and men and classes become the fools of their animosities. the wars of faction, the popular propaganda of the gracchi, the murderous strifes of marius and sulla, the rivalries of pompey and crassus, conservatives and democrats, cæsar and pompey, the pandemonium on cæsar's death, all in turn represent the renewed operation within the state of the crude energies of cohesion and strife which had been so long employed in foreign war. and the strife is progressively worse, because the materials are more complex and more corrupt. the aristocracy are more arrogant and hardened, the free farmer class has in large part disappeared, and the populace are more debauched.[ ] the perpetual wars had multiplied slaves; and the slaves added a new and desperate element to the social problem. it was the proof of the fatal lack in rome of vital ethical feeling--or, let us say, of social science--that this deadly iniquity was never effectually recoiled from, or even impugned as it had been, before aristotle, among the more highly evolved of the greeks.[ ] as wealth and luxury, pride and power accumulated, the usage of slave labour spread ever further and ate ever deeper into the population, brutalising alike the enslaved and the free. it was doubtless a partial recognition of this that motived, in cicero's day, the large number of affranchisements of slaves (wallon, _hist. de l'esclavage_, ii, ). but fresh enslavements went on; the amelioration consisted in the brevity of the period of enslavement in cases of good conduct. and the evil was in the main a product of conquest. it is fairly established by dureau de la malle (_Écon. polit. des romains_, , vol. i, liv. ii, ch. ) that down to the second punic war roman slaves were few. they would be for the most part _nexi_, victims of debt. as conquests multiplied prisoners, the class increased rapidly. broadly speaking, the house servants were all slaves, as were the bulk of the shepherds in the great _latifundia_, the crews of the galleys, and many of the artisans. the total number has doubtless been greatly exaggerated, both in ancient and modern times, as has been the population of the imperial city. athenæus is responsible for many wild estimates. (cp. letronne, as cited by dureau, liv. ii, ch. .) dureau arrives by careful calculation at an estimate of an italian population of some five millions about the year a.u.c., of whom some two and three quarter millions were free and some two and a quarter millions were slaves or _metæci_, aliens without political rights (i, ). the population of rome as late as aurelian he puts at between , and , (i, ). (see prof. bury's note in his ed. of gibbon, iii, , for different views. gibbon, bunsen, and hodgkin put the figure at about a million.) the exact proportion of slaves to free is not of the essence of the problem. a society with nine slaves for every eleven free was sufficiently committed to degeneration. but the fatality of war was as irresistible as the fatality of plebeian degradation; and the collapse of the slave war in sicily ( ), and the political movement of the gracchi, alongside of the new warlike triumphs in spain and southern gaul ( --the first great successes since the fall of carthage), illustrate the general principle that a ruling class or house may always reckon on checking domestic criticism and popular self-assertion by turning the animal energies of the people to animal strife with another nation, in which case union correlates with strife. wars imply comradeship and the putting aside of domestic strife for the time being; and a war with illyria was made the pretext for suspending the operation of the new land law passed by the elder gracchus when the younger later sought to carry it out. the triumphs of marius, again, over jugurtha and the cimbri availed nothing to unify the parties in the state, or to secure his own. in democratising the army by drawing on a demoralised _demos_, he did but make it a more facile tool for the general, a thing more detached from the body politic.[ ] the tendency of all classes in rome to unite against the claims of the outside italians was from the first a stumbling-block to the democrats within rome; and the final identification of the popular interest, in the period of marius and sulla, with an anti-roman policy among the marians, gave to sulla, strong in the prestige of recent conquest, the position of advantage, apart from his own strength. further, as montesquieu very justly notes, civil wars turn an entire nation into soldiers, and give it a formidable advantage over its enemies when it regains unity.[ ] but this again is only for a time; there is no enduring society where there is no general sense of reciprocal justice among free men; and systematic militarism and plunder are the negation of moral reciprocity. one partial exception, it is true, must be made. in the early days of the republic the poor soldier stood to lose his farm by his patriotism. soon the fighters had to be paid; and from the day of marius onwards roman commanders perforce provided for their veterans--so often their accomplices in the violation of their country's laws and liberties. the provision was made on the one hand by donations from the loot, on the other by grants of land taken from others, it might be in italy itself. sulla so rewarded his sworders; the triumvirs took the land of eighteen italian towns to divide among their legionaries.[ ] to the end the emperors had constantly to provide for their time-expired men by confiscations. thus did empire pay for its instrument. § the animal energies themselves, in time, are affected by domestic conditions; and when cæsar comes on the scene rome is visibly far on the way to a state of things such as had long before appeared in older civilisations[ ]--a state of things commonly but rather loosely called degenerate, in which the animal energies are grown less robust, and the life therefore in some respects more civilised. such a course had been run in italy long before the rise of rome, notably in etruria, where, after a conquest of aborigines by a small body of invaders,[ ] who were in touch with early greek culture, the civilisation remains at that archaic stage while greek civilisation continues to progress.[ ] there, with a small aristocracy lording it over a people of serfs,[ ] progress of all kinds was arrested, and even the religion of the conquerors assimilated to that of the aborigines.[ ] in the rome of cæsar we see, after much fluctuation, with a more complex and less enfeebled structure of population, the beginnings of the same fixation of classes; while, at the same time, there has been such psychological variation as can begin to give new and ostensibly higher channels to the immanent forces of union and strife. this is the social condition that, given the required military evolution, above all lends itself to imperialism or absolute monarchy; which system in turn best maintains itself by a policy of conquest, so employing the animal energies and keeping up the cohesive force of militarist pride throughout all classes. even now, of course, in a semi-enslaved populace, as in a slave population pure and simple,[ ] there were possibilities of insurrection; and it was at length empirically politic for the emperors to give the populace its daily bread and its daily games, as well as to keep it charmed with the spectacle of conquest. the expedient of doles of food did not at once condemn itself by dangerously multiplying mouths, because, although it was only in the upper classes that men commonly refused to marry and have legitimate children, population was now restrained by the preventive checks of vice, city life, and wholesale abortion,[ ] which are so much more effective--alike against child and mother[ ]--than the random resort to infanticide, though that too had greatly increased.[ ] on the other hand, as the field of practicable conquest again approaches exhaustion and no sufficiently strong rival arises to conquer the conquerors, nothing can hinder that people of all classes, having no ideals tending to social and intellectual advance, and no sufficient channel for the instinct of union in the politics of the autocracy, shall find some channels of a new kind.[ ] these are opened in due course, and take the shape especially of religious combinations or churches. such modes had appeared even in the earlier stages of civic disintegration, when the semi-private or sectarian cults had begun to compete successfully with the public or civic. they did so by appealing more freshly and directly to the growths of emotional feeling (the outcome in part of physiological modification)[ ] which no longer found outlet in primary forms, such as warfare and primitive revelry. after having themselves consented in times of panic to the introduction of several cults in the name of the public interest, the ruling classes, instinctively conservative by the law of their existence, take fright at the startling popularity of the unofficial bacchic mysteries, and decide to stamp out the movement.[ ] but the attempt is futile, the causal conditions remaining; and soon judaism, osirianism, mithraism, the worships of attis, adonis, bacchus, isis, serapis, all more or less bound up with divination and sorcery, make way in the disintegrating body politic.[ ] the wheel of social evolution had, so to speak, "gone full circle" since the first roman _curia_, the basis of the state, subsisted as groups with their special _sacra_, finding in these their reason for cohering. decadent rome, all other principles of subordinate cohesion having been worked out, resolves itself once more into groups similarly motived. but the principle is newly conditioned, and the _sacra_ now begin the struggle for existence among themselves. the rise of christianity is simply the success of a system which, on a good economic foundation, copied from that of the jewish synagogues, assimilates the main attractions of similar worships, while availing itself of exoteric and democratic as well as esoteric methods. it thus necessarily gains ground among the multitude, rich as well as poor;[ ] and its ultimate acceptance by the autocrat was due to the very exclusiveness which at first made it intolerable. once diffused widely enough to set up the largest religious organisation in the empire, it became the best possible instrument of centralisation and control, and as such it was accepted and employed.[ ] and now again we see how inevitably the force of attraction correlates with the force of repulsion. the new channels of the spirit of union, being dug not by reason but by ignorance, become new channels for the reverse flow of the spirit of strife; and as sectarian zeal spreads, in the absence of openings, good or bad, for public spirit, there arise new forms of domestic hate and struggle. crude religious fervours, excluding, or arising in lack of, the play of the saner and higher forms of thought and feeling, beget crude antipathies;[ ] and christianity leads back to bloody strifes and seditions such as had not been seen since the fall of the republic. there is not intellectuality enough to raise men above this new superinduced barbarism of ignorant instinct; half of the old christendom, disintegrated like the old politics, is overrun by a more robust barbarism that adopts a simpler creed; and the new barbaric christendom exhibits in its turn all the modes of operation of the biological forces that had been seen in the old. § thus far we have considered roman evolution in terms of a moral estimate of the reactions of classes. but lest we lose sight of the principle of total causation, it is fitting to restate the process in terms of that conception, thus explaining it non-morally. we may view rome, to begin with, as a case of the unique aggrandisement of a state in virtue of fit conditions and institutions. thus ( ) the comparatively uncommercial situation of the early latins, leaving them, beyond cattle-breeding and agriculture, no occupation save war for surplus energy, and no readier way of acquiring wealth;[ ] ( ) the physical collocation of a group of seven defensive hills, so close that they must be held by a federated group;[ ] ( ) the ethnic collocation of a set of tribe groups of nearly equal vigour and ardour, strengthening each other's sinews by constant struggling; ( ) the creation (not prescient, but purely as a provision against kingship) of the peculiar institution of the annual consulate,[ ] securing a perpetuity of motive to conquest and a continuous flow of administrative energy;[ ] ( ) the peculiar need, imposed by this very habit of all-round warfare, for accommodation between the ruling and ruled classes, and for the safeguarding of the interests of the latter by laws and franchises; ( ) the central position of rome in italy, enabling her to subdue it piecemeal; and finally ( ) the development by all these means of a specialist aristocracy, habitually trained to administration[ ]--all these genetic conditions combined to build up the most remarkable military empire the world has ever seen. they obtrude, it is clear, half of the explanation of the fact that the romans rose to empire where the much more early civilised greek cities of italy did not. of the latter fact we still receive the old explanation that it came of "the habit, which had ever been the curse of hellenism, of jealous separation and frequent war between town and town, as well as internal feuds in the several cities themselves."[ ] but this is clearly no _vera causa_, as these symptoms are duplicated in the history of rome itself. the determining forces must, then, be looked for in the special conditions. the greeks, indeed, brought with them the tradition of the separate city-state; but just as the cities remained independent in greece by reason of natural conditions,[ ] so the greek cities of italy remained isolated and stationary at a certain strength, because their basis and way of life were commercial, so that while they restricted each other's growth or dominance they were in times of peace mutually nutritive. they wanted customers, not plunder. for the romans plunder was the first social need after agriculture, and as they began they continued. when jugurtha learned that anything could be had of the romans for gold, he had but read an open secret. of course, the functions that were originally determined by external conditions came in time to be initial causes--the teeth and claws, so to speak, fixing the way of life for the body politic. the upper-class romans became, as it were, the experts, the specialists of war and empire and administration. until they became wholly demoralised by habitual plunder, they showed, despite their intense primeval superstition of citizenship,[ ] a degree of sagacity in the conciliation of their defeated rivals which was a main cause of their being able to hold out against hannibal, and which contrasts markedly with the oppressive and self-defeating policy of imperial carthage, athens, and sparta. their tradition in part was still that of conquering herdsmen, not wholly turned into mere exploiters of humanity. pitted against any monarch, they were finally invincible, because a still-growing class supplied their administrators, as the swarming provinces supplied their soldiers, and because for all alike war meant plunder and new lands, as well as glory. pitted against a republic like carthage, even when its armies were led by a man of genius, they were still insuppressible, inasmuch as carthage was a community of traders employing mercenaries, where rome was a community in arms, producing generals as carthage produced merchants. mithridates failed in turn, as hannibal failed. the genius of one commander, exploiting passive material, could not avail against the accumulated faculty for organisation in the still self-renewing roman patriciate.[ ] carthage had, in fact, preceded rome on the line of the evolution of class egoism. herself an expression of the pressure of the social problem in the older semitic world, she began as a colony, staved off domestic strife by colonies, by empire, and by doles,[ ] and was already near the economic stage reached only centuries later by the roman empire. save for rome, her polity might have endured on the imperialist basis for centuries; but, as it was, it was socially exhausted relatively to the task and the danger, depending as it did on hired foreign troops and coerced allies. it is idle to speak, as men still do, of hannibal's stay in capua as a fatal mistake.[ ] had hannibal taken rome, the ultimate triumph of the romans would have been just as certain. their state was bound to outlast the other, so long as it maintained to any extent its old basis of a fecund rural population of free cultivators, supplying a zealous soldiery, headed by a specialised class equally dependent on conquest for all advancement. for the trading carthaginians, war was, beyond a certain point, a mere act of self-defence; they could not have held and administered italy had they taken it. the supreme general could last only one lifetime; the nation of warriors still yielded a succession of captains, always learning something more of war, and raising the standard of capacity as the progress of machinery widens the scope of all engineers. the author of a recent and meritorious _history of rome_, mr. shuckburgh, is satisfied to quote (p. ) from polybius, as explaining the fall of carthage, the generalisation that "italians as a nation are by nature superior to phoenicians and libyans, both in strength of body and courage of soul"; and to add: "that is the root of the matter, from which all else is a natural growth." this only leaves us asking: "what was the natural root of the alleged physiological superiority?" there must have been reasons. if they were "racial" or climatic, whence the later implied degeneration of the romans in body or soul, or both? we are driven to the explanation lying in polity and institutions, which it should have been mr. shuckburgh's special aim to give, undertaking as he does to deal with "the state of the countries conquered by the romans." and such explanations are actually offered by polybius (vi, ). § and yet the deterioration of the roman state is visibly as sure a sequence as its progress. nothing that men might then have proposed could save it. in cicero's day the senate had become a den of thieves. the spectacle of the wealth of lucullus, taken in napoleonic fashion from the opulent east, set governor after governor elsewhere upon a course of ruthless extortion which depraved rome as infallibly as it devastated the subject states. roman exploitation of conquest began in the relatively moderate fashion of self-supporting victors willing to live and let live. sicily was at first ( ) taxed by marcellus in a fashion of which livy makes boast;[ ] and after the suppression of the slaves' revolt in b.c., the system was further reformed. seventeen towns, retaining their lands, paid a fixed tax to the republic; eight were immune, save for an annual contribution of , _modius_ of wheat for free doles in rome; and the rest of the island paid a tenth of all produce, as under hiero.[ ] later, the realms of the kings of macedonia, pergamos, and bithynia, and the lands of cyrene and cyprus, were made the public patrimony of the conquering state. sardinia, spain, north africa, and asia were in general taxed a tenth of their produce of all kinds. as the exploitation went on, individual governors added to all this regular taxation a vast irregular plunder on their own account; and nearly every attempt to impeach them was foiled by their accomplices in the senate.[ ] verres in sicily, fonteius in southern gaul, piso in macedonia, appius in cilicia, flaccus in asia minor, wrung infinite gold and loot immeasurable from the victim races by every device of rapacious brigandage, trampling on every semblance of justice, and then devised the ironic infamy of despatching corrupted or terrorised deputations of citizens to rome to testify to the beneficence of their rule.[ ] it was a riot of robbery in which no public virtue could live. to moralise on the scarcity of catos is an ill way of spending time if it be not recognised that catos had latterly become as impossible as eaters of acorns in the upper grades of the ever-plundering state. cato himself is a product of the last vestiges of the stage before universal conquest; and he begins to show in his own later years all the symptoms of the period of lawless plutocracy. to yearn for a series of such figures is to ask that men shall be capable of holding doggedly by an ethic of honest barbarism while living the lives of pirates and slavers, according no moral sympathy to the larger world of aliens and slaves, yet cherishing a high public spirit for the small world of the patrician state. the man himself was a mere moral anomaly; and in cato the younger, dreaming to the last of a loyal republican life, but always ready at his fellow-citizens' behest to go and beat down the rights or liberties of any other state,[ ] we have the paternal bias reproduced in an incurable duality. he sought for honour among thieves, himself being one. concerning the catonic attitude towards the "degeneration" of roman patrician life in the age of conquest, it has been truly said that "the policy of shameless selfishness which was pursued by the roman senate during this period, and reached its climax in their abominable conduct towards the unhappy, prostrate city of carthage--the frivolous wars, tending to nothing but aggrandisement and enrichment, waged by rome continuously after the second punic war--destroyed the old roman character[ ] far more effectually than grecian art and philosophy could ever have done. henceforth there was a fearful increase in internal corruption, immorality, bribery, an insatiable eagerness for riches, disregarding everything else and impudently setting aside laws, orders of the senate, and legal proceedings, making war unauthorised, celebrating triumphs without permission, plundering the provinces, robbing the allies."[ ] and the ideal of conquest inspired it all. we have only to ask ourselves, what was the administrative class to do? in order to see the fatality of its course. the state must needs go on seeking conquest, by reason alike of the lower-class and the upper-class problem. the administrators must administer, or rust. the moneyed men must have fresh plunder, fresh sources of profit. the proletaries must be either fed or set fighting, else they would clamour and revolt. and as the frontiers of resistance receded, and new war was more and more a matter of far-reaching campaigns, the large administering class at home, men of action devoid of progressive culture, ran to brutal vice and frantic sedition as inevitably as returned sailors to debauch; while the distant leader, passing years of camp life at the head of professional troops, became more and more surely a power extraneous to the republic. when a state comes to depend for its coherence on a standing army, the head of the army inevitably becomes the head of the state. the republic passed, as a matter of course, into the empire, with its army of mercenaries, the senatorial class having outlived the main conditions of its health and energetic stability; the autocracy at once began to delete the remaining brains by banishing or slaying all who openly criticised it;[ ] and the empire, even while maintaining its power by the spell of its great traditional organisation, ran through stage after stage of civic degeneration under good and bad emperors alike, simply because it had and could have no intellectual life commensurate with its physical scope. its function involved moral atrophy. it needs the strenuous empiricism of a mommsen to find ground for comfort in the apparition of a cæsar in a state that must needs worsen under cæsars even more profoundly than it did before its malady gave cæsar his opportunity. not that the empire could of itself have died as an organism. there are no such deaths in politics; and the frequent use of the phrase testifies to a hallucination that must greatly hamper political science. the ancient generalisation[ ] to the youth, maturity, and decrepitude and death of states is true only in respect of their variations of relative military and economic strength, which follow no general rule. the comparison of the life of political bodies to that of individuals was long ago rightly rejected as vicious by volney (_leçons d'histoire_, , ième séance), who insisted that political destruction occurred only through vices of polity, inasmuch as all polities have been framed with one of the three intentions of _increasing_, _maintaining_, or _overthrowing_. the explanation is obscure, but the negation of the old formula is just. the issue was taken up and pronounced upon to the same effect in the closing chapter of c.a. walckenaer's _essai sur l'histoire de l'espèce humaine_, . (professor flint, in his _history of the philosophy of history_, cites walckenaer, but does not mention volney's _leçons_.) le play, in modern times, has put the truth clearly and strongly: "at no epoch of its history is a people fatally doomed either to progress or decline. it does not necessarily pass, like an individual, from youth to old age" (cited by h. higgs in _american quarterly journal of economics_, july, , p. ). it is to be regretted that dr. draper should have adhered to the fallacy of the necessary decay and death of nations in his suggestive work on the _intellectual development of europe_ (ed. , i, - ; ii, - ). he was doubtless influenced by the american tendency to regard europe and asia as groups of "old countries." the word "decay" may of course be used with the implication of mere "sickness," as by lord mahon in the opening sentence of his _life of belisarius_; but even in that use it gives a lead to fallacy. had there been no swarming and aggressive barbarians, standing to later rome as rome had done to carthage--collectively exigent of moral equality as romans had once been, and therefore conjunctly mighty as against the morally etiolated italians--the western roman empire would have gone on just as the eastern[ ] so long did, just as china has so long done--would have subsisted with little or no progress, most factors of progress being eliminated from its sphere. it ought now to be unnecessary to point out that christianity was no such factor, but rather the reverse, as the history of byzantium so thoroughly proves. no christian writer of antiquity, save perhaps augustine[ ] in a moment of moral aspiration, shows any perception of the political causation of the decay and fall of the empire.[ ] the forces of intellectual progress that did arise and collapse in the decline and the dark ages were extra-christian heretical forces--sabellian, arian, pelagian, anti-ritualistic, anti-monastic, iconoclastic. these once deleted, christianity was no more a progressive force among the new peoples than it was among the old; and the later european progress demonstrably came from wholly different causes--new empire, forcing partial peace; saracen contact, bringing physics, chemistry, and mathematics; new discovery, making new commerce; recovery of pagan lore, making new speculation; printing, making books abundant; gunpowder, making arms a specialty; and the fresh competition and disruption of states, setting up fruitful differences, albeit also preparing new wars. to try to trace these causes in detail would be to attempt a complete sociological sketch of european history, a task far beyond the scope of the present work; though we shall later make certain special surveys that may suffice to illustrate the general law. in the meantime, the foregoing and other bird's-eye views of some ancient developments may illustrate those of modern times. footnotes: [footnote : cp. a. schwegler, _römische geschichte_, , i, - ; pelham, _outlines of roman history_, , p. . when professor ferrero (_greatness and decline of rome_, eng. trans. , i, ) pronounces that "the romans were a primitive people without the defects peculiar to a primitive people," he sets up a needless mystification. they had the defects of their own culture stage, which was far beyond that of "primitives" in the general sense of the term. they were "semi-civilised barbarians," with a long past of institutional life.] [footnote : it might be an interesting inquiry whether a grouping by threes could have arisen from a primary union of two exogamous clans.] [footnote : schwegler, i, . the origin of _tribus_ from _three_ is not an accident special to the romans. among the spartans and dorians likewise there were three stocks (cp. k.o. müller, _the dorians_, eng. tr. , i, - ; fustel de coulanges, _la cité antique_, e édit. p. , note ); and the great number of greek epithets in which "three" or "thrice" enters is a proof of the special importance anciently attached to the number. cp. k.d. hüllmann, _ursprung der römischen verfassung durch vergleichungen erläutert_, , p. .] [footnote : greenidge, _roman public life_, , p. .] [footnote : pelham, p. ; fustel de coulanges, p. , _sq._; schwegler, i, , ; ihne, _early rome_, , p. ; ortolan, _hist. de la législation romaine_, ed. labbé, , pp. , .] [footnote : schwegler, i, , following dionysius. cp. meyer, ii, .] [footnote : cp. fustel de coulanges, pp. , , , ; robertson smith, _religion of the semites_, , pp. , , , etc.; jevons, _introd. to the history of religion_, ch. xii.] [footnote : cp. schwegler, i, ; ihne, _early rome_, p. ; dupond, _magistratures romaines sous la république_, , p. . the source of the plebs is one of the vexed points of roman origins; and the view that they were primarily a conquered population is not yet generally accepted. see shuckburgh, _history of rome_, , p. . the true solution seems to be that the plebs were always being added to in various ways--by aliens, by "broken men," by discarded clients, and by fugitives. cp. fustel de coulanges, p. .] [footnote : schwegler, i, - , - ; fustel de coulanges, p. . note the expression _populo plebique_ in livy, xxix, ; cicero, _pro murena_, i; macrobius, _saturnalia_, i, . ortolan (endorsed by labbé) argues (work cited, p. ) that _populus plebsque_ no more implies separation than _senatus populusque_. but this argument destroys itself. the senate as such _was_ distinct from the populus, as having _auctoritas_, while the populus had only _potestas_. the phrase then was not a pleonasm. by this very analogy _populus plebsque_ implies a vital legal distinction. niebuhr, who first made the facts clear (cp. his _lectures_, eng. trans. ed. , p. ), followed vico, who was led to the true view by knowledge of the separateness of the _popolo_ from the _commune_ in the italian republics.] [footnote : schwegler, i, ; e.w. robertson, as cited, p. xxvii. yet the constant tradition is that not only did the mass of the people live mainly on farinaceous food and vegetables, but the upper classes also in the early period ate meat only on festival days. cp. guhl and koner, _the life of the greeks and romans_, eng. trans., pp. - ; pliny, _h.n._, xviii, , ; ramsay, _roman antiquities_, , p. . the cattle then were presumably sold to the people of the etruscan and campanian cities. professor ferrero leaves this problem in a state of mystery. the early romans, he writes, had "few head of cattle" (i, ); but land capture, he admits, meant increase (p. ); and at the time of the roman protectorate over all italy ( b.c.) he recognises "vast wandering herds of oxen and sheep, without stable or pen" (p. ), conducted by slave shepherds. on such lands there must have been a considerable amount of cattle-breeding at a much earlier period. on the other hand, noting that the romans early imported terracottas and metals from etruria, phoenicia, and carthage, "besides ivory-work and ornaments, perfumes for funerals, purple for the ceremonial robes of the magistrates, and a few slaves" (p. ), professor ferrero lightly affirms that "it was not difficult to pay for these in exports: timber for shipbuilding, and salt, practically made up the list."] [footnote : cp. schwegler, i, , - ; ii, ; e.w. robertson, _historical essays in connection with the land, the church, etc._, , pp. xxvi-vii, .] [footnote : e.w. robertson, as cited, pp. - ; schwegler, i, - .] [footnote : e.w. robertson, p. xxv.] [footnote : schwegler, i, , and refs.; robertson, pp. - ; ferrero, i, ; greenidge, _rom. pub. life_, p. .] [footnote : cp. e.w. robertson, as cited, p. xxv.] [footnote : schwegler, i, ; robertson, p. xxvii.] [footnote : schwegler, i, and refs.] [footnote : mommsen (ch. xiii. i, ) puts this point in some confusion, making the patricians live mostly in the country. meyer (ii, ) seems to put a quite contrary view. greenidge (_history of rome_, , p. ) agrees with mommsen, putting town houses as a development of the second century b.c.] [footnote : according to niebuhr (_lectures_, xv; eng. trans. ed. , p. ) and mommsen (ch. iv), the palatine and the quirinal. (but cp. greenidge, p. .) the palatine was probably the first occupied by romans. schwegler, i, . cp. merivale, _general history of rome_, th ed. p. , as to its special advantages. the quirinal was held by the sabines. cp. koch, _roman history_, eng. trans. p. .] [footnote : ihne, _early rome_, p. .] [footnote : presumably "pelasgian." cp. k.o. müller, _the dorians_, eng. trans. i, ; schwegler, i, _sq._] [footnote : perhaps the result of a partial conquest. cp. mommsen, vol. i, ch. , _ad init._, as to the precedence of the palatine priests over those of the quirinal.] [footnote : so ihne, _early rome_, p. .] [footnote : cp. pelham, ch. iii. ihne, who argues that the narratives concerning the etruscan kings are no more trustworthy than those as to their predecessors, recognises that pliny's record of the humiliating conditions of peace imposed on the romans by porsenna "would not have been made if the fact of the subjugation of rome by an etruscan king had not been incontestable" (_early rome_, p. ; cp. pp. - ).] [footnote : cp. mérimée, _Études sur l'histoire romaine_, t. i, _guerre sociale_, , p. _sq._; mommsen, b. ii, ch. i (i, ).] [footnote : cicero (_de officiis_, ii, ) and sallust (cited by augustine, _de civ. dei_, iii, ) preserved the belief (accepted by niebuhr) that the oppression of the poor by the rich had been restrained under the kings. cp. mahaffy (_problems in greek history_, pp. - ; social _life in greece_, rd ed. p. ) and wachsmuth (_hist. antiq. of the greeks_, eng. tr. i, ) as to greek despots. and see schwegler, _römische geschichte_, ii, , as to the weakness of rome through class-strifes after the expulsion of the kings.] [footnote : greenidge, pp. - ; mommsen, i, .] [footnote : greenidge, pp. , , .] [footnote : niebuhr, _lect._ xxv, rd eng. ed. p. . so ihne, _early rome_, p. ; and also schwegler, ii, . mommsen takes the traditional view. cp. shuckburgh (_history of rome_, p. ), who remarks that the battle was at least not a decisive victory. meyer (_geschichte des alterthums_, ii, ) gives no verdict.] [footnote : the demand for the admission of plebeians to the consulate was thus met on the patrician plea that religion vetoed it. only in was it enacted that one of the two consuls should always be a plebeian.] [footnote : plebeians first admitted to the quæstorship, b.c.; to the military tribuneship, ; to the consulate, ; to the dictatorship, ; to the censorship, ; to the prætorship, . this left the patricians in possession of the important privilege of membership of the sacred colleges. but that, in turn, was opened to plebeians in or .] [footnote : _de officiis_, i, , .] [footnote : _ad atticum_, i, .] [footnote : _de officiis_, ii, .] [footnote : see long, _decline of the roman republic_, iv, - , for some interesting details; and refs. in mérimée, _guerre sociale_, p. .] [footnote : livy, iv, .] [footnote : a writer in many respects instructive (w. warde fowler, _the city state of the greeks and romans_, , p. ), in pursuance of the thesis that "the romans" had an "innate political wisdom" and an "inborn genius" for accommodation, speaks of the process of democratic self-assertion and aristocratic concession as "leaving no bad blood behind," this when social disease was spreading all round. the theorem of "national genius" will suffice to impair any exposition, however judicious otherwise. and this is the fundamental flaw in the argument of bagehot in _physics and politics_. though he notes the possibility of the objection that he is positing "occult qualities" (p. ), he never eliminates that objection, falling back as he does on an assumed "gift" in "the romans" (p. ), instead of asking how an activity was evoked and fostered.] [footnote : cp. the _politics_, i, .] [footnote : cp. professor pelham's _outline of roman history_, , p. ; mérimée, _guerre sociale_, pp. , .] [footnote : _considérations sur les causes de la grandeur des romains, et de leur décadence_, ch. xi. he refers to the many cases in point in modern european history.] [footnote : dio cassius, xlvii, ; xlviii, ; appian, _bell. civ._ iv, ; v, , .] [footnote : see below, p. , as to carthage.] [footnote : schwegler, _römische geschichte_, i, .] [footnote : _idem_, i, - .] [footnote : see livy, xxxiii, , as to the _conjuratio servorum_ throughout etruria in a.u.c.] [footnote : schwegler, i, , .] [footnote : compare the slave wars of rome in sicily with the modern disorders ( ) in the same region, and with aristotle's testimony as to the constant tendency of the slave populations in greece to conspire against their owners (_politics_, ii, ).] [footnote : juvenal, _sat._ vi, , - ; ovid, _amor_. . ii, elegg. , . it is uncertain whether among the ancients any prudential preventive check was thought of. on the whole question see malthus' fourteenth chapter. malthus, however, omits to notice that the romans probably learned the arts of abortion from the greeks, egyptians, and syrians.] [footnote : ovid speaks of the many women killed, _amor._ ii. xiv, .] [footnote : malthus cites tacitus, _de mor. germanorum_, c. ; minucius felix, c. ; pliny, _hist. nat._ xxix, .] [footnote : cp. shaftesbury, _characteristics_, treatise ii, pt. iii, § (i, ). guizot seems to find the process surprising: "singulier phénomène! c'est au moment où l'empire se brise et disparaît, que l'eglise chrétienne se rallie et se forme définitivement. l'unité politique périt, l'unité religieuse s'élève" (_histoire de la civilisation en france_, éd. , i, ). he does not recognise the case as one of cause and effect. of course, the fall of the state is not necessary to set up new combinations. it suffices that men should be without political influence or national consciousness--_e.g._, the secret societies of china in recent times.] [footnote : an inquiry, or series of inquiries, into the physiological side of social and political development is obviously necessary, and must be made before sociology can on this side attain much scientific precision. i know, however, no general treatise on the subject except an old essay on _changes produced in the nervous system by civilisation_, by dr. robert verity ( nd ed., edinburgh, ). this is suggestive, but, of course, tentative. cp. ferrero, _greatness and decline of rome_, eng. trans, i, - .] [footnote : livy, xxxix, - . see below, pt. iii. ch. iii.] [footnote : cp. salverte, _de la civilisation_, p. .] [footnote : the subject is discussed in the author's essay on mithraism in _pagan christs_.] [footnote : m. hochart (_Études d'histoire religieuse_, , ch. ix) argues that constantine was never really converted to christianity; and this is perhaps the best explanation of his long postponement of his baptism.] [footnote : compare episodes in the history of the salvation army in england ( ), where that body was seen prepared to practise continuous fighting. it had no thought of "christian" conciliation.] [footnote : various causes, the chief being probably greek piracy, had caused in pre-roman etruria a decay of the original seaports. see schwegler, _römische geschichte_, i, .] [footnote : on this cp. ihne, _early rome_, p. ; and mommsen, ch. iv.] [footnote : this may have been set up in imitation of the carthaginian institution of _suffetae_, which would be well known to the etruscans of the monarchic period, who had much traffic with carthage. e. meyer, _geschichte des alterthums_, ii, . but it may also be explained by the simple fact that the original army was divided into two legions (_id._ ii, ).] [footnote : on this see montesquieu, _grandeur des romains_, c. . no one has elucidated so much of roman history in so little space as montesquieu has done in this little book, which buckle rightly set above the _esprit des lois_. (cp. the eulogy of taine, in his _tite-live._) its real insight may perhaps best be appreciated by comparing it with the modern work of m. charles gouraud, _histoire des causes de la grandeur de l'angleterre_ ( ), in which it will be hard to find any specification of real causes.] [footnote : the specification of this detail is one of the items of real explanation in mr. warde fowler's scholarly and sympathetic account of the development of the roman city-state (work cited, c. viii). he credits the romans with an "innate genius" for combination and constitutionalism as compared with the greeks, not noticing the fact that roman unity was in the main a matter of conquest of non-romans by romans; that the conquest was furthered by the roman institutions; that the institutions were first, so to speak, fortuitously shaped in favour of systematic war and conquest by the revolt against kingship; that war and conquest, again, were taken to almost inevitably as the main road to wealth; and that the accommodations of later times were forced on the upper classes by the career of warfare, to which domestic peace was indispensable. (cp. hegel as to the element of coercion and patrician policy in the roman social system. _philos. der gesch._, theil iii, abschnitt i, kap. i.) see below, § , as to the very different conditions of the greek city-states.] [footnote : e.s. shuckburgh, _history of rome_, , p. .] [footnote : see below, ch. iii, _end_; ch. iv, § (_c_).] [footnote : cp. livy, viii, - .] [footnote : cp. ferrero, _greatness and decline of rome_, eng. trans, i, .] [footnote : cp. aristotle, _politics_, ii, ; vi, .] [footnote : already in montesquieu's _grandeur des romains_ it is pointed out that for hannibal's soldiers, loaded with plunder, anywhere was capua. montesquieu rightly observes that the stock phrase on that head is one of the things everybody says because it has once been said. and it is repeated still.] [footnote : livy, xxv, .] [footnote : cicero, _in verrem_, iii, ; iv, ; v, , .] [footnote : sallust, _bell. jugurth._, c. .] [footnote : cicero, _in verrem_, iii, , , ; v, ; _in pisonem_, - ; _pro flacco_, ; _pro fonteio_, ; _pro lege manilia_, . see the record in dureau de la malle, _econ. polit. des romains_, , vol. ii, liv. iv, ch. . cp. ferrero, i, - , .] [footnote : cp. long, _decline of the roman republic_, ii. - , and merivale, _general history of rome_, pp. - , as to the plunder and annexation of cyprus. "whether the annals of british india contain so foul a crime," writes long, "i leave those to determine who know more of indian affairs than i do."] [footnote : an admission that national "character" is not a connatural or fixed bias, but a simple function of variables.] [footnote : teuffel, _hist. of roman literature_, ed. schwabe, eng. trans. i, (§ ).] [footnote : see the process traced in w.a. schmidt's _geschichte der denk und glaubensfreiheit im ersten jahrhundert der kaiserherrschaft und des christenthums_, .] [footnote : polybius, vi, . see below, ch. iv, § ( ).] [footnote : i am aware that mr. bury protests against this division; but his own difficulty in calling the middle (byzantine) empire the "later roman empire," while implicitly accepting the "holy" empire as _another_ "later roman empire," is the best proof that the established nomenclature is the most convenient. nobody is misled by it. a compromise might perhaps be made on the form "greek empire," contended for by m. sathes (_monumenta historiæ hellenicæ_, i, pref. p. ), following on m. rambaud.] [footnote : as cited below, pt. v, ch. i.] [footnote : salvian, for instance, sees in the barbarian irruption a punishment of christian sins; he never dreams of asking the cause of the christian and pre-christian corruption. prudentius, again, is a thorough imperialist. see the critique and citations of m. boissier, _la fin du paganisme_, ii, - , . origen had set the note a century before constantine (_contra celsum_, viii, - ).] chapter iii greek political evolution the politico-economic history of greece has been less cleared up than that of rome, by reason not only of the greater complexity of the problem, but of the predominance of literary specialism in greek studies. the modern greek historian, paparrigopoulo, has published in french an _histoire de la civilisation hellénique_ (paris, ), which condenses his learned greek work in five volumes; but the general view, though sometimes suggestive, is both scanty and superficial as regards ancient greek history, and runs to an unprofitable effort at showing the "unity" of all hellenic history, pagan and christian, in terms of an assumed conception of hellenic character. the posthumous _griechische culturgeschichte_ of jakob burckhardt ( ) throws little light on social evolution. trustworthy, weighty, and lucid, like all burckhardt's work, it is rather a survey of greek moral conditions than a study of social development, thus adding something of synthesis to the previous scholarly literature on the subject without reducing the phenomena to any theory of causation. it includes, however, good studies of vital social developments, such as slavery, to which grote and thirlwall paid surprisingly little attention, and which mahaffy handles inadequately. this is also to be studied in w.r. patterson's _nemesis of nations_ ( )--with some caution as regards the political generalisations. since the first edition of the present work there has appeared, in dr. g.b. grundy's _thucydides and the history of his age_ ( ) a new recognition of the fundamental character of economic conditions in greek as in other history. dr. grundy, finding no academic precedent for his sociological method, has urged as new truths propositions which for economic historians are or should have been axioms. the result, however, is a really stimulating and valuable presentment of greek history in terms of causal forces. the chapters on greece in dr. cunningham's _western civilisation_ ( ), though they contain not a few explanations of greek culture-phenomena on the old lines, in terms of themselves, are helpful for the purposes of the present inquiry, since they really study causation, as do meyer's _wirthschaftliche entwickelung des alterthums_ and some other recent german treatises, of which dr. cunningham makes use. much use, however, remains to be made of these and previous expert studies. boeckh's great work on the _public economy of the athenians_, which, though containing economic absurdities, hardly deserves even in that regard the strictures passed on it by the first english translator (sir g.c. lewis, ; nd ed. ; superior american ed. tr. from nd german ed. by a. lamb, ), has not very fruitfully affected the later historians proper. the third german edition by fränkel, , typifies the course of scholarship. it corrects details and adds a mass of _apparatus criticus_ equal in bulk to the whole original work, but supplies no new ideas. heeren's section on greece in his _ideen_, etc., translated as a _sketch of the political history of ancient greece_ ( ), and also as part of heeren's _thoughts on the politics_, etc., of _the ancient world_, is too full of early misconceptions to be well worth returning to, save for its general view. on the other hand, grote's great _history of greece_, though unmatched in its own species, and though a far more philosophical performance than that of mitford (which professor mahaffy and the king of greece agree in preferring for its doctrine), is substantially a narrative and critical history on the established lines, and does not aim at being more than incidentally sociological; and that of bishop thirlwall, though in parts superior in this regard, is substantially in similar case. at several points, indeed, grote truly illuminates the sociological problem--notably in his view of the reactions between the greek drama and the greek life. of the german general histories, that of holm (eng. tr. vols. - ) is a trustworthy and judicious embodiment of the latest research, but has no special intellectual weight, and is somewhat needlessly prolix. the history of dr. evelyn abbott, so far as it has gone, has fully equal value in most respects; but both leave the need for a sociological history unsatisfied. mr. warde fowler's _city state of the greeks and romans_ ( ) points in the right direction, but needs following up. apart from burckhardt and cunningham, the nearest approach yet made to a sociological study of greek civilisation is the series of works on greek social history by professor mahaffy (_social life in greece_; _greek life and thought from the age of alexander to the roman conquest_; _the greek world under roman sway_; _problems of greek history_; and _survey of greek civilisation_). these learned and brilliant volumes have great value as giving more vivid ideas of greek life than are conveyed by any of the regular histories, and as constantly stimulating reflection; but they lack method, omit much, and abound regrettably in capricious and inconsistent dicta. the _survey_ is disappointing as emphasising rather than making good the defects of the previous treatises. g.f. hertzberg's _geschichte griechenlands unter der herrschaft der römer_ ( ), and indeed all his works on greek history, are always worth consulting. some help may be had from the volume on greece in the _industrial history of the free nations_ by w.t. m'cullagh ( ); but that fails to throw any light on what should have been its primary problem, the rise of greek industry, and is rather sentimental than scientific in spirit. for later greece, finlay (_history of greece from its conquest by the romans_, revised ed. vols. ) becomes illuminating by his interest in economic law, though he holds uncritically enough by some now exploded principles, and exhibits some religious prejudice. his somewhat entangled opening sections express his difficulties as a pioneer in sociological history--difficulties only too abundantly apparent in the following pages. professor j.b. bury's _history of the later roman empire_ ( vols. ) is an admirable work; but it does not attempt, save incidentally, to supersede finlay in matters economic. § the political history of ancient greece, similarly summarised, will serve perhaps even better the purpose of illuminating later evolution. that history has served historian after historian as a means of modern polemic. the first considerable english historians of greece, gillies and mitford, pointed to the evil fate of greek democracy as a conclusive argument against countenancing democracy now; never stopping to ask whether ancient monarchies had fared any better than the democracies. and it is perfectly true that present-day democracies will tend to bad fortune just as did the ancient unless they bottom themselves more firmly and guide themselves by a deeper political science. it will not suffice that we have rejected the foundation of slavery, on which all the greek polities rested. the strifes between the demos and the aristocracy in the greek city-states would have arisen just as surely, though more slowly, if the demos, instead of being an upper-grade populace owning slaves, had included the whole mass of the artisan and serving class.[ ] where population increases at anything like the natural animal rate, and infanticide is not overwhelming, poverty must either force emigration or breed strife between the "have-nots" and the "haves," barring such continuous stress of war as suffices at once to thin numbers and yield conquerors the lands of the slain losers. during some centuries the pressure was in part relieved by colonisation, as had already happened among the phoenicians;[ ] the colonies themselves in turn, with their more rapid evolution, developing the inevitable strife of rich and poor more quickly and more violently than the mother cities.[ ] among these, it was when that relief seemed to be exhausted that strife became most dangerous, being obscurely perceived to be a means to advancement and prosperity for individuals, as well as for the state which could extort tribute or plunder from the others. war, however, limits agriculture, so that food supply is kept proportionately small; and with peace the principle of population soon overtakes lost ground; so that, though the greek states like others tended to gain in solidarity under the stimulus of foreign war, the pressure of poverty was always breeding fresh division. if we take up grecian history after the settling down of the prehistoric invasions, which complicated the ordinary process of rupture and fission, that process is seen occurring so frequently, and in so many different states, that there can be no question as to the presence of a general sociological law, not to be counteracted in any community save by a radical change of conditions. everywhere the phenomena are broadly the same. the upper class ("upper" in virtue either of primary advantages or of special faculty for acquiring wealth) attains to providing for its future by holding multitudes of poorer citizens in debt--the ancient adumbration of the modern developments of landlordism, national debts, and large joint-stock enterprises, which yield inheritable incomes. in early times, probably, debt led as often to adult enslavement in greece as in rome;[ ] but in a world of small and warring city-states, shaken by domestic division, constantly making slaves by capture and purchase, and always exposed to the risk of their insurrection, this was too dangerous a course to be long persisted in,[ ] and the creditor was led to press his mortgaged debtor in other ways. the son or the daughter was sold to pay the father's dues, or to serve in perpetual payment of interest; and the cultivator's share was ever at the lowest point. the pressure increases till the mass of debtors are harassed into insurrection, or are used by an adventurer to establish himself as despot.[ ] sometimes, in later days, the documents of debt are publicly destroyed;[ ] sometimes the land is divided afresh.[ ] landholders burdened with debt would vote for the former course and resist the latter;[ ] and as that was clamoured for at athens in early times, it may be presumed that in some places it was resorted to. sometimes even a refunding of interest would be insisted on.[ ] naturally such means of rectification availed only for a moment; the despot stood a fair chance of being assassinated; the triumphant demos would be caballed against; the exiled nobles, with the cold rage of theognis in their hearts, would return; and the last state of the people would be worse than the first; till again slackened vigilance on one side, and intolerable hardship on the other, renewed the cycle of violent change. in the course of ages there was perforce some approach to equipoise;[ ] but it was presumably at the normal cost of a definite abasement of the populace;[ ] and it was by a famous stroke of statecraft that athens was able so to solve her first great crisis as to make possible some centuries of expanding democratic life. the name of solon is associated with an early crisis ( b.c.) in which debt and destitution among the athenian demos (then still for the most part small cultivators, for whom the city was a refuge fortress, but as a rule no longer owning the land they tilled) brought matters to the same point as was marked in rome by the secession of the plebs. the athenian oligarchy was very much like the roman; and when the two sides agreed to call in solon as arbitrator it was with a fairly general expectation that he would take the opportunity to become tyrant. the people knew him to be opposed to plutocratic tyranny; the nobles and traders, anxious for security, thought him sure to be their friend; and both sorts had small objection to such a one as "despot." but solon, a noble of moderate means, who had gained prestige in the wars of athens with her neighbour, megara, and some knowledge of life as a travelling trader, brought to his problem a higher vision than that of a roman patrician, and doubtless had a less barbarous stock to deal with. later ages, loosely manipulating tradition, ascribed to him a variety of laws that he cannot have made;[ ] but all the records concur in crediting him with a "seisachtheia," a "shaking-off-of-burdens," and a healing of the worst of the open wounds of the body politic. all existing mortgages were cancelled; all enslavement for debt was abolished; athenians who had been sold into alien slavery were bought back (probably by a contribution from relieved debtors[ ]); and the coinage was recast--whether or not by way of reducing state payments is not clear. grote (ii, ), while eulogising solon's plan as a whole, accepts the view that he debased the money-standard; while boeckh (_metrologie_, ch. ) holds him to have further altered the weights and measures. for the former view there is clear support in plutarch (_solon_, c. ), and for the latter in the lately recovered aristotelian _polity of athens_ (c. ). but when messrs. mitchell and caspari, in their abridgment of grote (p. ), declare that the latter document makes clear that the coinage measure was solely for the promotion of trade, and entirely independent of the seisachtheia (so also bury, p. ), they unduly stress the evidence. the document, which is hardly aristotelian in structure, proceeds doubtfully on tradition and not upon record; and there may be some truth in the old view of androtion (plut. c. ), that solon only reduced the rate of interest while altering the money-standard. the point is really obscure. cp. abbott, _hist. of greece_, i, - ; grote, ii, - ; meyer, ii, - ; cox, _gen. hist. of greece_, nd ed. pp. - . so far are we from exact knowledge that it is still a moot point whether the tenant _hektemorioi_ or "sixth-men" _paid_ or _received_ a sixth part of their total product. cp. mitchell and caspari, abr. of grote, p. , _note_; cox, _gen. hist. of greece_, nd ed. p. ; bury, _hist. of greece_, ed. , p. ; meyer, ii, ; abbott, _hist. of greece_, i, . while the burdened peasants and labourers were thus ostensibly given a new economic outlook on life, they were further humanised by being given a share in the common polity. to the ecclesia or "congregation" of the people solon gave the power of electing the public magistrates; and by way of controlling somewhat the power of the areopagus or senate, he established a "pre-considering" council or "lower house" of four hundred, chosen from all save the poor class, thus giving the state "two anchors." and though the executive was in the hands of the aristocracy, subject only to popular election, the burdens of the community were soundly adjusted by a new or improved classification of citizens according to their incomes ("timocracy"), which worked out somewhat as a graduated income-tax, whether by way of a money-rate or in respect of their share in military duties and public "liturgies," which had to be maintained by the richer citizens. as to this vexed question, see boeckh, _staatsaushaltung der athener_, b. iv, c. (grote's ref. wrong), as expounded and checked by grote (ii, - ). messrs. mitchell and caspari, in their abridgment of grote (pp. , , _notes_), reject the whole interpretation (which is reached by a combination of ancient data, plutarch [c. ] telling nothing as to taxation). but they adduce only the negative argument that "as we know that peisistratos, the champion of the poorer classes, subsequently levied a uniform tax of five or ten per cent., it is absurd to suppose that the highly democratic principle of a sliding-scale had been previously adopted by solon. peisistratos would not have dared to attempt a reaction from a sliding-scale income-tax to a sort of poll-tax." to this it might be replied that the "flat rate" of peisistratos--which ought to modify the conception of him as the "friend of the poor"--may have been an addition to previous taxes; and that the division of citizens into income-classes must have stood for _something_ in the way of burdens. the solution would seem to be that these were not regular money taxes. "regular direct taxes were as little known in free athens as in any other ancient state; they are the marks of absolute monarchy, of unfreedom" (meyer, ii, ). "seemingly, it was not until later times that this distribution of classes served the purposes of taxation" (maisch, _manual of greek antiquities_, eng. tr. p. ). but already the cost of certain public services, classed under the head of "liturgies," was laid upon the rich; and there may well have been a process of collective contribution towards these at a time when very rich citizens cannot have been numerous. doubtless the graduated income-tax would have been unworkable in a systematic way, though in the "servian" timocracy of early rome a _tributum_ seems to have been imposed on the classes (livy, ii, ). at yet other points solon prepared the ground for the democratic structure of the later athenian polity. by overthrowing the sacrosanct power of the aristocratic priestly houses, who had aggrandised themselves by it like the nobles of early rome, he prevented the growth of a hierocracy. by constituting out of all the citizens, including the thetes or peasant cultivators, a kind of universal jury-court, out of which the panels of judges were to be taken by lot, he put the people on the way of becoming a court of appeal against the upper-class archons, who recruited the areopagus. "the constitution of the judicial courts (_heliaia_) out of the whole people was the secret of democracy which solon discovered. it is his title to fame in the history of the growth of popular government in europe."[ ] the whole reform was indeed a great achievement; and so far definitive that from that time forward athens needed no further resort to "seisachtheia" or to alteration of the money-standard. solon had in fact eliminated the worst disruptive force at work in the community--the enslavement of the debtor; a reform so radical,[ ] when considered as one man's work, that to note its moral limits may seem to imply blindness to its value. henceforth, on the lines of the democracy which he made possible, athenians were so far homogeneous that their slaves were aliens. beyond that point they could not rise; after solon, as before, they were at daggers drawn with neighbouring statelets, and to the end it remained tolerable to them to enslave the men of other greek-speaking communities. floated over the first reef by solon, they never found a pilot to clear the second--the principle of group-enmity. upon that the hellenic civilisation finally foundered. even in respect of what he achieved, solon received but a chequered recognition in his own time. the peasantry had expected him to divide the land among them;[ ] and when they found that the abolition of enslavement for debt did not mean much less stress of life, they were ready to forfeit all the political rights he had given them for some more tangible betterment. the simple fact that a generation later peisistratos was able to become tyrant in the teeth of the aged solon's vehement opposition is intelligible only as standing for the feeling of many of the common people that through a _tyrannos_ alone could their interests be maintained against the perpetual conspiracy of the upper class to overreach them.[ ] it may be that solon had alienated the rural folk by his concern for commerce, which would be likely to mean the encouragement of imports of food.[ ] peisistratos, we know, was the leader of the _diakrioi_, the herdsmen and crofters of the uplands, and was "accounted the most thorough democrat" as against the landlords of the plains (_pediaioi_), led by lycurgos, and the traders of the coast (_paraloi_), led by megacles.[ ] the presumption is that by this time the fertile plain-lands were largely owned by rich men, who worked them by hired labour; but the nature of the conflicting forces is not now to be clearly ascertained. the credit given afterwards to peisistratos for maintaining the solonian laws points to an understanding between him and the people;[ ] and their acceptance of him in solon's despite suggests that they even identified the latter with the failure of his laws to secure them against further aristocratic oppression. nonetheless, solon's recasting of the political structure of the state determined the future evolution. as athens grew more and more of an industrial and trading city, her people reverted more and more surely to the self-governing ideal; albeit the solonian constitution preserved the unity of the state, keeping all the people of attica "athenians." the rule of peisistratos was twice upset, and that of his house in all did not last much above fifty years. when the last member was driven out by kleisthenes ( b.c.), the constitution was re-established in a more democratic form than the solonian; all freemen of attica became burghers of athens; and thousands of unenfranchised citizens and emancipated slaves obtained full rights of citizenship. for better and for worse, republican athens was made--a new thing in the ancient world, for hitherto "democratical government was a thing unknown in greece--all grecian governments were either oligarchical or despotic, the mass of the freemen having not yet tasted of constitutional privilege."[ ] what followed was an evolution of the old conflicting forces on a new constitutional basis, the balance of power and prestige being on the side of the demos and its institutions, no longer on that of a land-owning and dominant aristocracy. but the strife never ceased. kleisthenes himself found "the athenian people excluded from everything" once more, and, "being vanquished in the party contest with his rival, took the people into partnership."[ ] the economic tendencies of all civic life reproduced the hostility again and again. one of the most remarkable of the laws of solon was that which disfranchised any citizen who in a "stasis" or seditious feud stood aloof and took no side.[ ] he had seen the risks of such apathy in the attempt of kylon, in his youth, to become despot of athens; and his fears were realised when peisistratos seized power. the law may have helped to promote public-spirited action; but in the nature of things it was hardly necessary when once democracy was established. again and again the demos had to fight for its own hand against the cliques who sought to restore oligarchy; and apathy was not likely to be common. the perpetual generation of fresh poverty through rapid increase of population, and the inevitable resort to innovating fiscal and other measures to relieve it, sufficed to provide grounds of class strife while free athens endured. it lies on the face of aristotle's _politics_, however, that even if the population difficulty had been solved otherwise than by exodus, and even if the athenians could have guarded against class strife among themselves, the fatality of war in the then civilised world would have sufficed to bring about political dissolution. as he profoundly observes, the training of a people to war ends in their ruin, even when they acquire supremacy, because their legislators have not "taught them how to rest."[ ] add the memorable testimony of thucydides concerning the deep demoralisation wrought by the peloponnesian war--a testimony supported by every page of the history of the time. even the sinister virtue of uniting a people within itself was lacking to the perpetual warfare of the greeks: the internal hatreds seemed positively to worsen in the atmosphere of the hatreds of the communities. but while the spirit of strife is universal, peoples are inevitably trained to war; and even if the greek states could have so far risen above their fratricidal jealousies as to form a stable union, it must needs have turned to external conquest, and so run the downward course of the post-alexandrian hellenistic empires, and of the roman empire, which in turn sank to dissolution before the assaults of newer militarisms. § nothing can save any democratic polity from the alternatives of insane strife and imperial subjection but a vital prosperous culture, going hand in hand with a sound economy of industry. the greek democracies in their different way split on the rock that wrecked the roman republic: there was ( ) no general mental development commensurate with the political problems which arose for solution, and ( ) there was no approach to a sound economics. the first proposition will doubtless be denied by those who, nourished on the literature of greece, have come to see in its relative excellence, the more confidently because of the abiding difficulty of mastering it, the highest reach of the faculties of thought and expression. but this judgment is fundamentally astray, because of the still subsisting separation, in the literary mind, of the idea of literary merit from the idea of scientific sanity. men themselves too often vowed to the defence and service of a mythology are slow to see that it was not for nothing that the athenian people bottomed its culture to the last on myth and superstition. yet a little reflection might make it clear that the community which forced socrates to drink the hemlock for an alleged and unproved scepticism, and anaxagoras to fly for a materialistic hypothesis concerning the sun, could have no political enlightenment adequate to the athenian needs. we see the superstitious athenian demos playing the part of the ignorant multitude of all ages, eager for a master, incapable of steadfast self-rule, begging that the magnificent alcibiades, who led the sacred procession to eleusis in despite of the spartans near at hand, shall put down his opponents and reign at athens as king[ ]--this after he had been exiled by the same demos on a charge of profane parody of the eleusinian mysteries, and sacerdotally declared accursed for the offence.[ ] a primitive people may stumble along in primitive conditions by dint of elementary political methods; but a civilised people with a complex political problem can solve it only by means of a correspondingly evolved science. and the athenian people, with their purely literary and æsthetic culture, never as a body reached even a moderate height of ethical and scientific thought,[ ] or even any such general æsthetic well-being as we are apt to credit them with. moderns think of them, as the great song of euripides has it, "lightly lifting their feet in the lucid air,"[ ] and are indulgently ready to take by the letter the fine panegyric of the athenian polity by pericles,[ ] forgetting that statesmen in all ages have glorified their state, always making out the best case, always shunning discouragement for their hearers, and making little account of evil. but burckhardt, after his long survey, decides with boeckh that "the hellenes were more unhappy than most men think;"[ ] and the saying holds good of their political and intellectual life above all things. our more idealising scholars forget that the philosophy of the philosophers was a specialism, and that the chance of hearing a tragedy of sophocles or a comedy of aristophanes was no training in political conduct for a people whose greatest philosopher never learned to see the fatality of slavery. on the economic side, periclean athens was nearly as ill founded as aristocratic rome. citizens often with neither professions nor studies, with no ballasting occupation for head or hand; average men paid from the unearned tribute of allied states to attend to affairs without any fundamental study of political conditions; citizens whose work was paid for in the same fashion; citizens of merely empirical education, for whom politics was but an endless web of international intrigue, and who had no higher ideal than that of the supremacy of their own state in hellenedom or their own faction in the state--such men, it is now easy to see, were incapable of saving athens, much less of unifying greece. they were politically raised to a situation which only wise and deeply instructed men could fill, and they were neither wise nor deeply instructed, however superior their experience might make them relatively to still worse trained contemporaries, or to populations living under a systematic despotism. on some of the main problems of life the majority had thought no further than their ancestors of the days of the kings. the spell of religion had kept them ignorant and superstitious.[ ] in applied ethics they had as a body made no progress: the extension of sympathy, which is moral advance, had gone no further than the extortion of civic status and power by some new classes, leaving a majority still enslaved. above all, they could not learn the lesson of collective reciprocity; could not see the expediency of respecting in other communities the liberty they prized as their own chief good. athens in her turn "became an imperial or despot city, governing an aggregate of dependent subjects all without their own active concurrence, and in many cases doubtless contrary to their own sense of political right.... but the athenians committed the capital fault of taking the whole alliance into their own hands, and treating the allies purely as subjects, without seeking to attach them by any form of political incorporation or collective meeting and discussion--without taking any pains to maintain community of feeling or idea of a joint interest--without admitting any control, real or even pretended, over themselves as managers. had they attempted to do this, it might have proved difficult to accomplish--so powerful was the force of geographical dissemination, the tendency to isolated civic life, and the repugnance to any permanent extramural obligations, in every grecian community. but they do not appear to have ever made the attempt. finding athens exalted by circumstances to empire, and the allies degraded into subjects, the athenian statesmen grasped at the exaltation as a matter of pride as well as profit. even pericles, the most prudent and far-sighted of them, betrayed no consciousness that an empire without the cement of some all-pervading interest or attachment, although not practically oppressive, must nevertheless have a natural tendency to become more and more unpopular, and ultimately to crumble in pieces."[ ] in fine, a democracy, the breath of whose nostrils is justice, systematically refused to do as it would be done by; and as was athens, so were the rest of the greek states. when the athenians told the protesting melians, in effect, that might is right,[ ] they did even as sparta and thebes had done before them.[ ] hence the instinct of justice was feeble for all purposes, and the domestic strife of factions was nearly as malignant and animalised as in borgian italy. mother cities and their colonies fought more destructively with each other than with aliens; athens and syracuse, corinth and corcyra, strove more malignantly than did greek with barbarian. it was their rule after a victory to slay their prisoners.[ ] such men had not learned the secret of stable civic evolution; animal instinct was still enthroned against law and prudence. unearned income, private and public; blindly tyrannous political aggression; ferocious domestic calumny; civic and racial disruption--these were the due phases and fruits of the handling of a great political problem by men who in the mass had no ideals of increasing knowledge, of growing tolerance, of widening justice, of fraternity.[ ] stoic and epicurean wisdom and righteousness came too late to save free hellas: they were the fruits of retrospect in decadence. the very art and literature which glorified athens were in large part the economic products of impolicy and injustice, being fostered by the ill-gotten wealth accruing to the city from her tributary allies and subject states, somewhat as the art of the great period in italy was fed by the wealth of the church and of the merchant princes who grew by the great river of trade. in the one case as in the other, there was no polity, no science, equal to the maintenance of the result when the originating conditions disappeared. greek art and letters passed away because they were ill rooted. nobly incorrupt for himself, pericles thus fatally fostered a civic corruption that no leader's virtues could countervail, and his policy in this regard was probably the great force of frustration to his scheme for a pan-hellenic congress at athens, to promote free trade and intercourse.[ ] for various views on this matter cp. heeren, eng. tr. of researches on the _political history of ancient greece_, pp. - ; thirlwall, _history of greece_, ch. xviii ( st ed. iii, - ); grote, iv, - ; abbott, _history of greece_, i, - ; holm, _history of greece_, eng. tr. ii, , note to ch. xvii (a vindication). grote, who vindicates the policy of pericles with much care, endorses the statesman's own plea that his use of the confederate treasure in ennobling the city gave her a valuable prestige. but even to the athenian opposition this answer was indecisive, for, as grote records, the argument of thucydides was that athens was "disgraced in the eyes of the greeks" by her use of the treasure. this meant that her prestige was fully balanced by hatred, so that the civic gain was a new danger. not that matters would have gone a whit better if, as our tory historians used retrospectively to prescribe, democracy had been permanently subverted by aristocracy. no other ideal then in vogue would have produced even so much "good life" as was actually attained. we know that the rich and the great in the greek cities were the worst citizens, in the sense of being the least law-abiding; and that the lower-class athenians who served in the fleet were the best disciplined; the middle-class hoplites less so; and the rich men who formed the cavalry the least orderly of all.[ ] above all, the aristocrats were cruel and rapacious when in power as the demos never were, even when they had overthrown the guiltiest of their tyrants.[ ] the leading aristocrats were simply weaker versions of the demagogues, making up for their weakness by their cruelty; and nothing can be more misleading than to take the account given of kleon by aristophanes for even a semblance of the truth. the great humorist saw nothing as it really was: his very genius was as it were a many-faceted mirror that could reflect no whole, and left his practical judgment worth less than that of any of the men he ridiculed. kleon is to be conceived as a powerful figure of the type of a new york tammany "boss," without culture or philosophy, but shrewd, executive, and abounding in energy. the aristocrats were but slighter egoists with a varnish of education, as far as he from a worthy philosophy. and the philosophers _par excellence_, plato and aristotle, were equally incapable of practical statesmanship. the central truth of the entire process is that free greece fell because her children never transcended, in conception or in practice, that primary ethic of egoism in which even love for one's country is only a reflex of hate for another people. this is clear in the whole play of the astounding hatreds of athenians for athenians through every struggle of athens for her life. the treasons of alcibiades are evoked and amply balanced by the murderous plots of his fellows against him: every figure in the line of leaders, from solon's self, is hated by some hetairia; the honest anytus, the perfect type of brainless conservatism sitting in the chair of sociological judgment, can be appeased only by the slaying of socrates; and to the end the egoisms of demosthenes, Æschines, and isocrates are at grapple, with the national assassin in sight. and it is the prevailing consciencelessness, the universal lust to tyrannise, that really consummates the political dissolution. it was not the battle of chæronea that made an end of greek independence. that disaster would have been retrieved like others if only the greeks had persistently cared to retrieve it. they fell because they took the bribe of empire. philip held it out at once by his offer of facile terms to athens: he was planning in his own way what the pragmatic isocrates took for the ideal hellenic course, a hellenic war of conquest against persia; and it was that very war, made by alexander, that transformed the greeks into a mere diluvium of fortune-hunters, turning away from every ideal of civic stability and dignity to the overrunning of alien populations and the getting of alien gold. given the process of historic determination, moral bias becomes a fatality; and when it is fixed, "'tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus." republican greece passed away because there were no more republican greeks, but only a rabble of imperialists. here again appears the fatality of their past: it was the sombre memory of unappeasable civil strife, of eternal inequality and envy and class attrition, that made the new promise so dazzling; any future seemed fairer than the recent past. but it was through the immediate bait to their cupidity that the greeks were led out of their old man-making life of turbulent counterpoise, the sphere of free equals, into the new unmanning life of empire, the sphere of slaves. they were easy victims. the men of aristotle's day had once more before their eyes, in the squalid drama of philip's house--in the spectacle of alienated wife and son deriding and hating the laurelled conqueror and exulting in his murder--the old lesson of autocracy, its infallible dishonour, its depravation, its dissolution of the inmost ties of cordial life. but any countervailing ideal that still lived among them was overborne by the tide of triumphant conquest; and, with aristotle and plato in her hand, greece turned back to the social ethic of the heraclidæ. and when once the circean cup of empire had been drained by the race, there was no more returning to the status of republican manhood. the new self-governing combination of cities which arose in achaia after the disintegration of alexander's empire might indeed conceivably have reached a high civilisation in time; but the external conditions, as summed up in the existence of rome, were now overwhelmingly unfavourable. the opportunity for successful federalism was past. as it was, the achaian and Ætolian leagues were but politic unions as much for aggression as for defence, even as the spartan reformers, agis and cleomenes, could never rise above the ideal of spartan self-assertion and domination. thus we have on one hand the spartan kings, concerned for the well-being of the mass of the people (always excepting the helots) as a means to restore spartan pre-eminence; and on the other hand the achaian federation of oligarchies, hating the doctrine of sympathy for the demos as much as they hated sparta--the forces of union and strife always repelling the regimen of peace, to say nothing of fraternity. the spectacle of cleomenes and philopoemen at deadly odds is the dramatic summary of the situation; the ablest men of the later greek age could not transcend their barbarian heredity. the statement of freeman (_history of federal government in greece and italy_, ed. , p. ) that a federal system in greece was "utterly impossible," is true in the bare philosophic sense that that was impossible which did not happen; but such a proposition would hold equally true of anything else that did not happen at a given time; and it merely creates confusion to affirm it of one item in particular. pericles schemed something like a federal union;[ ] and had his practice been in accord with his ideal, it might conceivably have been at least tried. m. fustel de coulanges well points out how the primary religious conception of the ancient city-state expelled and negatived that of a composite state (_la cité antique_, l. iii, ch. xiv, p. ); that is a process of rational explanation. but unless we conceive the "failures" of the past as lessons to be profited by, there can be neither a social nor a moral science. freeman, however, actually proceeds to say that greek federation was utterly undesirable--an extraordinary doctrine in a treatise devoted to studying and advocating federalism. on the principles thus laid down, dr. freeman's denunciation of austria and france in modern times is irrational, since that which has happened in these countries is that which alone was possible; and the problem as to the desirable is hopelessly obscured. to say that "greece united in a federal bond could never have become the greece" we admire (_id._ p. ), is only to vary the verbalism. granted that hellenic greatness _as we know it_ was "inseparably limited to the system of independent city commonwealths," it remains a rational proposition that had the greek cities federated they could have developed their general culture further than they actually did, though the special splendour of periclean athens could not in that case have been so quickly attained. and as the _fall_ of greece is no less "inseparably linked" with the separateness of the states, dr. freeman's proposition suggests or implies an assertion of the desirableness of that fall. mr. t. whittaker, in his notable essay on _the liberal state_ ( , pp. - ), rightly puts it as a fatality of the greek state that it could neither enter into nor absorb a larger community, but recognises this as a failure to solve the great problem. when, however, he writes that "the free development of athens as an autonomous state would have been restricted by a real federation in which other states had a voice of their own," he partly sets up the difficulty created by freeman. wherein would athens have suffered as to freedom? the lesson for modern democracies from the story of the ancient is thus clear enough. to flourish, they must have peace; they must sooner or later practise a scientific and humane restraint of population--the sooner the better, as destruction of surplus population is always going on, even with emigration; they must check inequality, which is the fountain of domestic dispeace; and they must maintain a progressive and scientific culture. and the lesson is one that may now be acted on as it never could have been before. there is no longer a reserve of fecund barbarism ready to overwhelm a civilisation that ceases to be pugnacious; and the civilised states have it in their own power to submit their quarrels to bloodless arbitrament. the inveterate strifes of the greeks belong to a past stage of civilisation, and were in any case the product of peculiar geographical conditions, greece being physically divided, externally among islands, and internally into a multitude of glens, which in the days of city-state life and primitive means of communication preserved a state of cantonal separateness and feud, just as did the physical conditions of the scottish highlands in the days before effective monarchic rule. this permanent dissociation of the city-states was only a more intractable form of the primary divisions of the districts. thus in attica itself the divisions of party largely followed the localities: "there were as many parties among them as there were different tracts of land in their country"--the mountain-dwellers being democratic, while the plain-dwellers were for an oligarchy, and the coast-dwellers sought a mixed government. (plutarch, _solon_, cc. , ; aristotle, _polity of athens_, c. .) see the question further discussed below, ch. iv, § (_c_). indeed, the fulness of the autonomous life attained by the separate cities was a psychological hindrance to their political union, given the primary geographical sunderance. thus we have in the old amphictyonic councils the evidence of a measure of peaceful political attraction among the tribes before the cities were developed;[ ] yet on those ancient beginnings there was no political advance till the rise of formal federalism in the Ætolian and achaian leagues after the death of alexander. and that federalism was not ethically higher than the spirit of the ancient amphictyonic oath, preserved by Æschines. the balance of the forces of separateness and political wisdom is to be conceived in terms of a given degree of culture relatively to a given set of physical conditions. happily the deadlock in question no longer subsists for civilised states. again, there is now possible a scientific control of population, without infanticide, without vice, without abortion. there has been attained a degree of democratic stability and enlightenment which given peace, permits of a secure gradual extension of the principle of equality by sound machinery. and there is now accumulated a treasury of seminal knowledge which makes possible an endless intellectual progress, the great antiseptic of political decay, provided only that the foregoing conditions are secured. this is, in brief, the programme of progressive democracy. footnotes: [footnote : cp. mr. godkin, _problems of modern democracy_, , pp. - , as to the recent rise of class hatred in the united states.] [footnote : meyer, _geschichte des alterthums_, ii, .] [footnote : "freedom flourishes in colonies. ancient usages cannot be preserved ... as at home.... where every man lives by the labour of his hands, equality arises, even where it did not originally exist" (heeren, _pol. hist. of greece_, eng. tr. p. . cp. bagehot, _physics and politics_, p. ). note, in this connection, the whole development of magna græcia. sybaris was "perhaps in b.c. the greatest of all grecian cities" (grote, part ii, ch. ). as to the early strifes in the colonies, cp. meyer, ii, .] [footnote : such was the legal course of things before solon (grote, ii, - ; ingram, _history of slavery_, p. ; cp. schömann, _griechische alterthümer_, te aufl. i, ; aristotle, _polity of athens_, cc. , , ; wachsmuth, _histor. antiq. of the greeks_, § , eng. tr. , i, ).] [footnote : cp. schömann, i, ; burckhardt, _griechische culturgeschichte_, i, ; meyer, _gesch. des alterthums_, ii, . in the historic period the majority of slaves are said to have been of non-greek race (schömann, i, ; burckhardt, i, ). but this is said without much evidence. the custom was to kill adult male captives and enslave the women and children. men captives who were spared by the athenians were put to slavery in the mines (burckhardt, citing polyaenus, ii, i, ).] [footnote : _e.g._ telys at sybaris, theagenes at megara, and kypselus at corinth, in the sixth century b.c.; and klearchus at herakleia in the fourth (grote. ii, , ; iv, ; x, ). compare the appeals made to solon by both parties to make himself despot (plutarch, _solon_, c. ).] [footnote : as at sparta under agis iv (plutarch, _agis_, c. ; thirlwall, c. lxii, st ed. viii, ). the claims were restored at agis's death (_id._ p. ).] [footnote : as by cleomenes, soon after (_id._ p. ).] [footnote : _e.g._ agesilaus in the same crisis.] [footnote : as at megara (grote, ii, ).] [footnote : see grote, ii, , as to the general development.] [footnote : but cp. grote, ii, , as to the case of megara.] [footnote : grote, ii, - .] [footnote : cp. meyer, ii, .] [footnote : bury, pp. - .] [footnote : eduard meyer writes of solon (ii, ) that "aller radicalismus liegt ihm fern"; and, two pages later, as to the freeing of the peasantry, that "hier konnte nur ein radicales mittel, ein bruch des formellen rechts, hülfe bringen."] [footnote : grote (ii, ) finds this incredible; it is hard to see why. plutarch ( , ) is explicit on the point; so also the _athenian polity_, c. .] [footnote : friends of solon's in the upper classes took advantage of a disclosure of his plans to buy up land in advance, escaping full payment under his law cancelling debts (plutarch, _solon_, c. ; aristotle, _athenian polity_, c. ). see plutarch, c. , as to the moderation and popularity of peisistratos.] [footnote : see below, pt. ii, ch. ii, § .] [footnote : plutarch, _solon_, , .] [footnote : as to his tactic in building up a party see busolt, _griech. gesch._ , i, - . but the panegyric of peisistratos as a ruler by messrs. mitchell and caspari (abr. of grote, p. ) is extravagant. the tyrant is there extolled for the most primitive device of the ruler seeking popularity, the remission of taxes to individuals.] [footnote : grote, ii, , .] [footnote : herodotus, v, - .] [footnote : plutarch, _solon_, c. .] [footnote : bk. vii, c. .] [footnote : plutarch, _alcibiades_, c. .] [footnote : grote, ch. .] [footnote : cp. meyer, _geschichte des alterthums_, iv, § .] [footnote : rev. a.s. way's translation of euripides, _medea_, - .] [footnote : thucydides, ii, .] [footnote : _griechische culturgeschichte_, i, ; cp. ii, - , , etc. and see meyer, _geschichte des alterthums_, ii, - , , etc. for an able counter-pleading, see the essay of mr. benn, "the ethical value of hellenism," in _intern. jour. of ethics_, april, , rep. in his _revaluations, historical and ideal_, .] [footnote : cp. fustel de coulanges, _la cité antique_, ed. , pp. - ; e. meyer, _geschichte des alterthums_, ii, .] [footnote : grote, iv, - .] [footnote : thucydides, v, _sq_.] [footnote : cp. maisch, _manual of greek antiquities_, eng. tr. § .] [footnote : grote, iv, . cp. thirlwall, i, - .] [footnote : the view here set forth is fully borne out by the posthumous _griechische culturgeschichte_ of burckhardt. cp. i, - .] [footnote : plutarch, _pericles_, c. .] [footnote : xenophon, _memorabilia_, iii, , . cp. grote, iv, . as grote goes on to show, the same general statement holds good of rome after her victory over carthage, of the italian republics, and of the feudal baronage in england and elsewhere.] [footnote : grote, vi, - , , rightly insists on the moderation of the people after the expulsions of the four hundred and the thirty tyrants.] [footnote : plutarch, _pericles_, c. ; grote, iv, ; t. davidson, _the parthenon frieze_, , pp. - .] [footnote : grote, pt. ii, ch. ii (ed. , ii, - ); freeman, _history of federal government_, ed. , p. .] chapter iv the laws of socio-political development § the word "progressive," however, raises one of the most complex issues in sociology. it would be needless to point out, were it not well to anticipate objection, that the foregoing summaries are not offered as a complete theory of progress even as commonly conceived, much less as sufficing to dismiss the dispute[ ] as to what progress is, or what basis there is for the modern conceptions bound up with the word. our generalisations proceed on the assumption--not of course that human affairs must constantly improve in virtue of some cosmic law, but--that by most men of any education a certain advance in range of knowledge, of reflection, of skill, of civic amenity, of general comfort, is held to be attainable and desirable; that such advances have clearly taken place in former periods; and that the due study of these periods and of present conditions may lead to a further and indefinitely prolonged advance. conceiving progress broadly as occurring by way of rise in the quantity and the quality of pleasurable and intelligent life, we beg the question, for the purposes of this inquiry, as against those who may regard such a tendency with aversion, and those who may deny that such increase ever takes place. taking as proved the evolution of mankind from lower forms of animal life, we conceive such evolution as immeasurably slow in the period before the attainment of agriculture, which may serve as the stage at which what we term "civilisation" begins. only with agriculture begins the "civitas," as distinct from the horde or tribe. thenceforth all advance in arts and ethics, no less than in political co-ordination, counts as "civilisation." the problem is, how to diagnose advance. all of us, roughly speaking, understand by progress the moving of things in the way we want them to go; and the ideals underlying the present treatise are easily seen, though it does not aim at an exhaustive survey of the conditions and causes of what it assumes to be progressive forms or phases of civilisation. to reach even a working theory, however, we have to make, as it were, cross-sections in our anatomy, and to view the movement of civilisation in terms of the conditions which increase men's stock of knowledge and extend their imaginative art. to lay a foundation, we have to subsume buckle's all-important generalisation as to the effect of food and life conditions in differentiating what we may broadly term the primary from the secondary civilisation. thus we think from "civilisation" to _a_ civilisation. buckle drew his capital distinction, so constantly ignored by his critics, between "european" and "non-european" civilisations. this broadly holds good, but is a historical rather than a sociological proposition. the process of causation is one of life conditions; and the first great steps in the higher greek civilisation were made in asia minor, in contact with asiatic life, even as the earlier civilisations, such as the "minoan" of crete, now being traced through recovered remains, grew up in contact with both egypt and the east. (cp. prof. burrows, _the discoveries in crete_, , chs. v, ix.) the distinction here made between "primary" and "secondary" civilisations is of course merely relative, applying as it does only to the historic period. we can but mark off the known civilisations as standing in certain relations one to another. thus the roman civilisation was in reality complex before the conquest of greece, inasmuch as it had undergone italo-greek and etruscan influences representing a then ancient culture. but the roman militarist system left the roman civilisation in itself unprogressive, and prevented it from being durably fertilised by the greek. proceeding from general laws to particular cases, we may roughly say that:-- ( ) primary civilisations arise in regions specially favourable to the regular production of abundant food, and lying inland, so as not to offer constant temptation to piratical raids. (fertile coast land is defensible only by a strong community.) ( ) such food conditions tend to maintain an abundant population, readily lending itself to exploitation by rulers, and so involving despotism and subordination. they also imply, as a rule, level territories, which facilitate conquest and administration, and thus also involve military autocracy. the general law that facile food conditions, supporting large populations in a primary civilisation, generate despotisms, was explicitly put in the eighteenth century by walckenaer (_essai sur l'histoire de l'espèce humaine_, , l. v, ch. iv, p. ). montesquieu, whose reasonings on climate and soil tend to be fanciful and non-economic (cp. volney, _leçons d'histoire_, ième séance; and buckle, routledge's ed. pp. , - ), noted the fact that sterile attica was relatively democratic, and fertile lakedaimon aristocratic; and further (following plutarch) decides that mountaineers tend to be democratic, plain-dwellers subject to rulers, and coast-dwellers something midway between (_esprit des lois_, l. xviii, ch. i). he is right in his facts, but misses the economic explanation. the fact that mountaineers as such are not easy to conquer, doubtless counts for a good deal. see it touched on in gray's unfinished poem on the _alliance between government and education_, written before the appearance of the _esprit des lois_, and stopped by gray on the ground that "the baron had forestalled some of his best thoughts" (gray's _works_, ed. , p. ). the point is discussed more fully in dr. dunbar's _essays on the history of mankind_, , essay vi. ( ) if the nation with such conditions is well aloof from other nations, in virtue of being much more civilised than its near neighbours, and of being self-sufficing as regards its produce, its civilisation (as in the cases of china and incarial peru and ancient egypt) is likely to be extremely conservative. above all, lack of racial interbreeding involves lack of due variation. no "pure" race ever evolved rapidly or highly. even the conservative primary civilisations (as the egyptian, chinese, and akkadian) rested on much race mixture. as dr. draper has well pointed out (_intellect. develop. of europe_, ed. , i, - ), the peculiar regularity of egyptian agriculture, depending as it did on the nile overflow, which made known in advance the quantity of the crops, lent itself especially to a stable system of life and administration. the long-lasting exclusion of foreigners there, as in china and in sparta, would further secure sameness of culture; and only by such causes can special unprogressiveness anywhere arise. sir henry maine's formula, marking off progressive and unprogressive civilisations as different species, is merely verbal, and is not adhered to by himself. (the point is discussed at some length by the present writer in _buckle and his critics_, pp. - .) maine's distinction was drawn long ago by eusèbe salverte (_de la civilisation depuis les premiers temps_, , p. , _seq._), who philosophically goes on to indicate the conditions which set up the differentiation; though in later references (_essai sur les noms d'hommes_, , préf. p. ii; _des sciences occultes_, , préf. p. vi) he recurs to the empirical form of his proposition, which is that adhered to by maine. ( ) when an old civilisation comes in steady contact with that of a race of not greatly inferior but less ancient culture, physically so situated as to be much less amenable to despotism (that is, in a hilly or otherwise easily defensible region), it is likely so to fecundate the fresher civilisation that the latter, if not vitiated by a bad political system, will soon surpass it,[ ] provided that the latter community in turn is duly crossed as regards its stock, and that the former has due resources. ( ) in other words, a primitive but not barbarous people, placed in a region not highly fruitful but not really unpropitious to human life, is the less likely to fall tamely under a despotism because its population is not so easily multiplied and maintained;[ ] and such a people, when physiologically variated by a mixture of stocks, and when mentally fecundated by contact with older civilisations, tends to develop what we term a secondary civilisation, higher in all respects than those which have stimulated it.[ ] ( ) a very great disparity in the culture-stages of meeting races, however, is as unfavourable to the issue of a higher civilisation from their union as to a useful blending of their stocks.[ ] thus it fares ill with the contact of higher and lower races even in a climate equally favourable to both; and where it is favourable to the latter only, there is likely to be no immediate progress in the lower race, while in the terms of the case the higher will deteriorate or disappear.[ ] ( ) where a vigorous but barbarian race overruns one much more civilised, there is similarly little prospect of immediate gain to progress, though after a period of independent growth the newer civilisation may be greatly fecundated by intelligent resort to the remains of the older. the cases of china and the roman empire may serve as illustrations. they were, however, different in that the northern invasion of rome was by relatively considerable masses, while the tartar conquerors of china were easily absorbed in the vast native population. ( ) where, again, independent states at nearly the same stage of civilisation, whether speaking the same or different languages, stand in a position of commerce and rivalry, but without desperate warfare, the friction and cross-fertilisation of ideas, together with the mixture of stocks, will develop a greater and higher intellectual and artistic life than can conceivably arise in one great state without great or close rivals, since there one set of ideals or standards is likely to overbear all others, with the result of partly stereotyping taste and opinion. this point is well put by hume as to greece, in his essay _of the rise of the arts and sciences_ ( ); and after him by gibbon, ch. , bohn ed. vi, ; cp. heeren, _pol. hist. of ancient greece_, eng. tr. p. ; walckenaer, _essai_ cited, p. ; ferguson, _essay on the history of civil society_, , pp. , ; dunbar, _essays on the history of mankind_, , pp. , ; goguet, _de l'origine des lois, des arts, et des sciences_, , iii epoque, l. ii, ch. ; salverte, _de la civilisation_, , pp. - ; grote, _history of greece_, pt. ii, ch. i, ed. , ii, ; cunningham, _western civilisation_, i, . grote brings out very clearly the "mutuality of action and reaction" in the case of the maritime greeks as compared with the others and with other nations. see also hegel, _philos. der geschichte_, th. ii, absch. i (ed. , p. ). hegel, besides noting the abstract element of geographical variety, points to the highly mixed character of the greek stocks, especially in attica. so salverte, as cited. the same principle is rightly put by guizot (_hist. de la civilisation en france_, i, leçon ), and accepted by j.s. mill (_on liberty_, ch. iii, end), as a main explanation of the intellectual progress of modern europe. it is therefore worth weighing as regards given peoples, by those who, like mr. bryce, see nothing but harm in the subdivision of germany after the thirty years' war (_holy roman empire_, th ed. p. ). against the undoubted evils connected with the partition system ought to be set the intellectual gains which latterly arose from it when the intellectual life of germany had, as it were, recovered breath. ( ) thus, while an empire with a developed civilisation may communicate it to uncivilised conquered peoples not too far below its own anthropological level, the secondary civilisation thus acquired is in its nature less "viable," less capable of independent evolution, than one set up by the free commerce of trading peoples. the most rapid growths of civilisation appear always to have occurred by way of the multiplying of free contacts among trading communities, and among the free colonies of such.[ ] the "money economy" they introduced was a great instrument of social and industrial evolution;[ ] and on such city civilisations the ancient empires themselves seem always to have proceeded.[ ] ( ) every phase of civilisation has its special drawbacks, so that great retrogression may follow on great development, especially when adventitious sources of wealth are the foundation of a luxurious culture. in some cases a great development may be dependent on an exhaustible source of wealth, as in the case of britain's coal supply, the empire of ancient rome, the primacy of the pope before the reformation, or even the periclean empire of athens, and the trade monopolies of venice, the hansa towns, and the dutch republic. ( ) the expression "decay" as applied to a people, however, has only a relative significance: used absolutely, it stands for a delusion. economic conditions may worsen, and military power decline; but such processes imply no physiological degeneration. all the "dead" civilisations of the past were _overthrown or absorbed by military violence_; and there is no known case of a nation physically well placed dying out. professor w.d. whitney, who is usually so well worth listening to, fails to recognise this fact in his interesting essay on "china and the chinese" (_oriental and linguistic studies_, nd series). he declares that "according to the ordinary march of events in human history, the chinese empire should have perished from decay, and its culture either have become extinct or have passed into the keeping of another race, more than two thousand years ago. it had already reached the limit to its capacity of development" (p. ). similarly ratzel pronounces (_history of mankind_, eng. tr. , i, ) that "voltaire hits the point when he says nature has given the chinese the organ for discovering all that is _useful_ to them, but not for going _any further_." voltaire never penned such a "bull." he wrote (_essai sur les moeurs_, avant-propos, ch. i), "il _semble_ que la nature ait donné," and "_nécessaire_," not "useful." even that has a touch of paralogism; but the great essayist goes on to suggest two causes for chinese conservatism--their ancestral piety and the nature of their method of writing. the first is a pseudo-explanation; the second is a _vera causa_, though only one of those involved. the german specialist of to-day is really further from the scientific point of view than the french wit of the middle of the eighteenth century, going on as he does to decide that "defect in their endowments" causes the mediocrity of the chinese, and "also is the sole cause of the rigidity in their social system." this is a vain saying; and it is no less vain to go on to ask, as professor whitney does, what has become of egypt, of the phoenicians and hebrews, of the persians, of greece and rome, and of spain. the answer is easy. egypt was conquered, and the old race still reproduces itself, in vassalage. the "pelasgic" civilisation of ancient greece was absorbed by the greek invaders. the "mycenæan" and "minoan" civilisations, as seen in ancient troy and "minoan" crete, were conquered and partly absorbed. the phoenicians and hebrews were destroyed or absorbed. the persians are at present retrograde, but may rise again.[ ] rome and greece were successively overrun by barbarism. spain, like italy, retrograded, but, like italy, is on the path of regeneration. in all these cases the process of causation is obvious. no nation dies or disappears save by violence; and, given the proper conditions, all races are capable of progress indefinitely. china, though unprogressive in comparison with a european state, has changed in many respects within two thousand years--nay, within twenty.[ ] professor whitney adopts an empirical convention, and accordingly misses any real elucidation of the problem of chinese sociology, which he assumes to solve (p. ) by saying we must look for our explanations "deep in the foundations of the national character itself." that is to say, the national character is determined by the national character. it is surely time that this palæo-theological fashion of explaining human affairs were superseded by the more fruitful method of positive science, even as regards china, which is perhaps the worst explained of all sociological cases. like others, it had been intelligently taken up by sociologists of the eighteenth century before the conservative reaction (see the _esprit des lois_, vii, ; viii, ; x, ; xiv, ; xviii, ; xix, - ; dunbar's _essays_, as cited, pp. , , , , ; and walckenaer, _essai_ cited, pp. , ); but that impetus seems to have been thus far almost entirely lost. voltaire's fallacy is remembered and his truth ignored; and the methods of theology continue to be applied to many questions of moral science after they have been wholly cast out of physics and biology. the old "falsisms" of empirical politics are repeated even by professed biologists when they enter on the field of social science. thus we have seen them accepted by dr. draper, and we find professor huxley (_evolution and ethics_, romanes lecture for , p. ) rhetorically putting "that successive rise, apogee, and fall of dynasties and states which is the most prominent topic of civil history," as scientifically analogous to the process of growth and decay and death in the human organism. any comparative study of history shows the analogy to be spurious. professor whitney was doubtless influenced, like dr. draper, by the american habit of regarding european and ancient civilisations as necessarily decrepit because "slow" and "old." cp. draper as cited, ii, - . in the cases above dealt with, however, and in many others, there is seen to have been _intellectual_ decay, in the sense of, first, a cessation of forward movement, and, next, a loss of the power to appreciate ideas once current. a common cause of such paralysis of the higher life is the malignant action of dogmatic religious systems, as in the cases of persia, jewry, byzantium, islam, spain under catholicism, and scotland for two centuries under protestantism. such paralysis by religion may arise alike in a highly-organised but isolated state like byzantium, and in a semi-civilised country like anglo-saxon england.[ ] the special malignity of dogma in these cases is itself of course a matter for analysis and explanation. other cases are partly to be explained by (_a_) the substitution of systematic militarism, always fatal to progressive culture, for a life of only occasional warfare, favourable to study among the leisured class.[ ] but (_b_) there is reason to surmise a further and profoundly important cause of intellectual retrogression in the usage which develops the culture of a people for the most part in one sex only. the thesis may be ventured that whereas vigorous and creative brains may arise in abundance in a young civilisation, where the sexes are physiologically not far removed from the approximate equality of the semi-barbarous stage, the psychological divergence set up by mentally and physically training the males and not the females is likely to be unfavourable to the breeding of mentally energetic types. ( ) whether or not the last hypothesis be valid, it is clear that the co-efficient or constituent of intellectual progress in a people, given the necessary conditions of peace and sufficient food, is multiplication of ideas; and this primarily results from international contact, or the contact of wholly or partly independent communities of one people. multiplication of arts and crafts is of course included under the head of ideas. but unless the stock of ideas is not merely in constant process of being added to among the studious or leisured class, but disseminated among the other classes, stagnation will take place among these, and will inevitably infect the educated class. de tocqueville, balancing somewhat inconclusively, because always _in vacuo_, the forces affecting literature in aristocratic and democratic societies, says decisively enough (_démocratie en amérique_, ed. , ii, - ) that "toute aristocratie qui se met entièrement à part du peuple devient impuissante. cela est vrai dans les lettres aussi bien qu'en politique." this holds clearly enough of italian literature in the despotic period. mr. godkin's criticism (_problems of modern democracy_, p. ) that "m. de tocqueville and all his followers take it for granted that the great incentive to excellence, in all countries in which excellence is found, is the patronage and encouragement of an aristocracy," is hardly accurate. de tocqueville puts the case judicially enough, so far as he goes; and mr. godkin falls into strange extravagance in his counter statement that there is "hardly a single historical work composed prior to the end of the last [eighteenth] century, except perhaps gibbon's, which, judged by the standard that the criticism of our day has set up, would not, though written for the 'few,' be pronounced careless, slipshod, or superficial." tillemont, by the testimony of professor bury, was a more thorough worker in his special line than gibbon. it would be easy to name scores of writers in various branches of history in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries whom no good critic to-day would call careless or slipshod; and if hume and robertson, clarendon and burnet, be termed superficial, the "standard" will involve a similar characterisation of most historical writers of our own day. as regards present-day literary productions, de tocqueville and mr. godkin alike omit the necessary economic analysis. ( ) in the intellectual infectiousness of all class degradation, properly speaking, lies the final sociological (as apart from the primary ethical) condemnation of slavery. the familiar argument that slavery first secured the leisure necessary for culture, even were it wholly instead of being merely partially true, would not rebut the censure that falls to be passed on slavery in later stages of civilisation. all the ancient states, before greece, stood on slavery: then it was not slavery that yielded her special culture. what she gained from older civilisations was the knowledge and the arts developed by _specialisation_ of pursuits; and such specialisation was not necessarily dependent on slavery, which could abound without it. it was in the special employment, finally, of the exceptionally large _free_ population of athens that the greatest artistic output was reached.[ ] in later periods, the slave population was the great nucleus of superstition and anti-culture. inasmuch, then, as education is in only a small degree compatible with toilsome poverty, the betterment of the material conditions of the toiling class is essential to progress in ideas. that is to say, continual progress implies gradual elimination of class inequality, and cannot subsist otherwise. at the same time, a culture-class must be maintained by new machinery when leisured wealth is got rid of.[ ] ( ) again, it follows from the foregoing ( - ) that the highest civilisation will be that in which the greatest number of varying culture-influences meet,[ ] in the most happily-crossed stock, under climatic conditions favourable to energy, on a basis of a civilisation sufficiently matured.[ ] but in order to the effectual action of such various culture-influences through all classes of the nation in which they meet, there is needed a constant application of social or political regimen. in the lack of that, a great conflux of culture-forces may miss fruition. a mere fortuitous depression of the rich class, and elevation of the poor, will not suffice to place a society on a sound or even on an improved footing. such a change occurred in ancient athens after salamis, when the poorer sort, who had constituted the navy, flourished[ ] as against the richer, who had been the land soldiery, and whose lands had been ravaged. but the forces of disintegration played afresh. yet again, transient financial conditions, such as those of italy before the reformation, of holland until the decline of its fishing and trade, and of venice until its final commercial decay, may sustain a great artistic life, art having always depended on private or public demand. thus with a change in the geographical course of trade, a great phase of culture-life may dwindle. so many and so complex are the forces and conditions of progress in civilisation. § it will readily be seen that most of the foregoing propositions have direct reference to well-known facts of history. thus (_a_) ancient egypt represents a primary civilisation, marked indeed by some fluctuations connected with dynastic changes which involved mixture of stocks, but on the whole singularly fixed; while ancient greek civilisation was emphatically a secondary one, the fruit of much race-mixture and many interacting culture-forces, all facilitated by the commercial position and coast-conformation of hellas. this view is partly rejected by grote in two passages (pt. i, chs. xvi, xvii, ed. , i, , ) in which he gives to the "inherent and expansive force" of "the greek mind" the main credit of greek civilisation. but his words, to begin with, are confused and contradictory: "the transition of the greek mind from its poetical to its comparatively positive stage was self-operated, accomplished by its own inherent and expansive force--_aided indeed, but by no means either impressed or provoked_ from without." in the second place, there is no basis for the denial of "impression or provocation" from without. and finally, what is decisive, the historian himself has in other passages acknowledged that the greeks received from asia and egypt just such "provocation" as is seen to take place in varying degrees in the culture-contacts of all nations (chs. xv, xvi, pp. , ). of the contact with egypt he expressly says that it "enlarged the range of their thoughts and observations." his whole treatment of the rise of culture, however, is meagre and imperfect relatively to his ample study of the culture itself. later students grow more and more unanimous as to the composite character of the greek-speaking stock in the earliest traceable periods of hellenic life (cp. bury, _history of greece_, ed. , pp. - , and professor burrows, _the discoveries in crete_, , p. ), and the consequent complexity of the entire hellenic civilisation. the case is suggestively put by eduard meyer (_geschichte des alterthums_, ii, ) in the observation that while the west coast of greece had as many natural advantages as the eastern, it remained backward in civilisation when the other had progressed far. "_here there lacked the foreign stimulus_: the west of greece is away from the source of culture. here, accordingly, primitive conditions continued to rule, while in the east a higher culture evolved itself.... corinth in the older period played no part whatever, whether in story or in remains." the same proposition was put a generation ago by a. bertrand, who pointed out that the coasts of elis and messenia are "incomparably more fertile" than those of argolis and attica (_Études de mythologie et d'archéologie grecques_, , pp. - ); and again by winwood reade in _the martyrdom of man_ ( , p. ): "a glance at the map is sufficient to explain why it was that greece became civilised before the other european lands. it is nearest to those countries in which civilisation first arose ... compelled to grow towards asia as a tree grows towards the light." but to this generalisation should be put the qualifying clause (above, p. ) that fertile coasts when developed are defensible only by a strongly organised community. thus an early exploitation of elis and messenia would be checked by piracy. the question as to the originality of greek culture, it is interesting to note, was already discussed at the beginning of the eighteenth century. see shaftesbury's _characteristics_, misc. iii, ch. i. (_b_) the greek land as a whole, especially the attic, was only moderately fertile, and therefore not so cheaply and redundantly populated as egypt. the bracing effect of their relative poverty was fully recognised by the greeks themselves. cp. herodotus, vii, , and thucydides, i, . see on the same point heeren, _political history of ancient greece_, eng. tr. pp. - ; thirlwall, _history of greece_, small ed. i, ; duncker, _gesch. des alterthums_, iii, ch. i, § ; wachsmuth, _hist. antiq. of the greeks_, § ; duruy, _hist. grecque_, , p. ; grote, part ii, ch. i (ed. , ii, ); boeckh, _public economy of athens_, b. i, c. ; niebuhr, _lectures_, li (eng. tr. rd ed. p. ); mahaffy, _rambles and studies in greece_, th ed. pp. , - . dr. grundy (_thucydides and the history of his age_, , p. _sq._) lays stress on the fertility of the valleys, but recognises the smallness of the fertile areas. (_c_) hellas was further so decisively cut up into separate cantons by its mountain ranges, and again in respect of the multitude of the islands, that the greek districts were largely foreign to each other,[ ] and their cultures had thus the advantage of reacting and interacting, as against the disadvantage of their incurable political separateness--that disadvantage in turn being correlative with the advantage of insusceptibility to a despotism. the effect of geographical conditions on greek history is discussed at length in conrad bursian's essay, _ueber den einfluss des griechischen landes auf den charakter seiner bewohner_, which i have been unable to procure or see; but i gather from his _geographie von griechenlands_ that he takes the view here set forth. cp. senior's _journal kept in turkey and greece_, , p. , for a modern greek's view of the state of his nation, "divided into small districts by mountain ranges intersecting each other in all directions without a road or canal"; the deduction from the same perception made by the young arthur stanley (prothero's _life of dean stanley_, -vol. ed. p. ); and the impression retained from his travels by m. bertrand, _Études de mythologie et d'archéologie grecques_, , p. . the profound importance of the geographical fact has been recognised more or less clearly and fully by many writers--_e.g._, hume, essay of the _rise and progress of the arts and the sciences_ (ed. of _essays_, i, - ); gillies, _history of greece_, -vol. ed. p. ; heeren, as cited, pp. , ; duncker, as last cited, also ch. iii, § ( te aufl. , p. ); duruy, ch. i; cox, _general history of greece_, bk. i, ch. i; thirlwall, ch. x; wachsmuth, eng. tr. i, ; comte, _cours de philosophie positive_, leçon ième; grote, pt. ii, ch. i (ii, ); finlay, _history of greece_, tozer's ed. i, ; k.o. müller, _introd. to scientific mythology_, eng. tr. p. ; hegel, as last cited; hertzberg, _geschichte von hellas und rom_, (in oncken's series), i, ; winwood reade, _the martyrdom of man_, , p. sq.; bury, _history of greece_, ed. , pp. - ; fyffe (very explicitly), _primer of greek history_, p. --but it is strangely overlooked by writers to whom one turns for a careful study of causes. even grote, after having clearly set forth (ii, ) the predetermining influence of land-form, attributes greek divisions to the "character of the race," which even in this connection, however, he describes as "splitting _by natural fracture_ into a multitude of self-administering, indivisible cities" (pt. ii, ch. , beginning); and sir george cox, after specifying the geographical factor, speaks of it as merely "fostering" a love of isolation _resulting_ from "political creed." freeman (_history of federal government_) does not seem to apply the geographical fact to the explanation of any phase of greek history, though he sees in greece (ed. , pp. , ) "each valley and peninsula and island marked out by the hand of nature for an independent being," and quotes (p. ) cantù as to the effect of land-form on history in italy. in so many words he pronounces (p. ) that the love of town-autonomy was "inherent in the greek mind." mr. warde fowler (_city-state of the greeks and romans_) does not once give heed to the geographical conditions of causation, always speaking of the greeks as lacking the "faculty" of union as compared with the latins, though the eastern empire finally showed greater cohesive power than the western. even mr. fyffe (_primer_ cited, p. ), despite his preliminary recognition of the facts, finally speaks of the greeks as relatively lacking in the "gift for government." the same assumption is made in lord morley's _compromise_ (ed. , p. ) in the allusion to "peoples so devoid of the sovereign faculty of political coherency as were the greeks and the jews." lord morley's proposition is that such peoples may still evolve great civilising ideas; but though that is true, the implied thesis as to "faculty" weakens even the truth. the case of the jews is to be explained in exactly the same way as that of the greeks, the face of palestine being disjunct and segregate in a peculiar degree. other "semites," living in great plains, were united in great monarchies. the sound view of the case as to rome is put by hertzberg: "soll man im gegensatze zu der hellenischen geschichte es in kürzester fassung bezeichnen, so kann man etwa sagen, die italische landesnatur stellte der ausbildung eines grossen _einheitlich_ geordneten staates durchaus nicht die gewaltigen hindernisse entgegen, wie das in griechenland der fall war" (_gesch. von hellas und rom_, ii, ). cp. shuckburgh, _history of rome_, , p. , as to "the vast heights which effectually separate tribes." dr. cunningham puts it (_western civilisation_, i, , ) that roman expansion in italy came of the need to reach a true frontier of defence, in the lack of physical barriers to the early states. (so lord cromer, _anc. and mod. imperialism_, , p. .) it seems more plausible to say that all of the states concerned were positively disposed to conquest, and that the physical conditions of italy made possible an overrunning which in early greece was impossible. the theory of "faculty," consistently applied on mr. fowler's and lord morley's lines, would credit the french with an innate gift of union much superior to that of the germans--at least in the modern period--and the chinese with the greatest "faculty" of all. but the long maintenance of one rule over all china is clearly due in large part to the "great facility of internal intercourse" (davis, _the chinese_, introd.) so long established. the roman roads were half the secret of the cohesion of the empire. dr. draper suggests, ingeniously but inaccurately, that rome had strength and permanence because of lying east and west, and thus possessing greater racial homogeneity than it would have had if it lay north and south (_intel. devel. of europe_, _i_, ). on the other hand, mountainous switzerland remains still cantonally separate, though the pressure of surrounding states, beginning with that of austria, forced a political union. compare the case of the clans of the scottish highlands down to the road-making period after the last jacobite rising. see the principle discussed in mr. spencer's _principles of sociology_, i, § . it may be well, before leaving the subject, to meet the important criticism of the geographical principle by fustel de coulanges (_la cité antique_, liv. iii, ch. xiv, p. , édit. ). noting that the incurable division of the greeks has been attributed to the nature of their land, and that it has been said that the intersecting mountains established lines of natural demarcation among men, he goes on to argue: "but there are no mountains between thebes and platæa, between argos and sparta, between sybaris and crotona. there were none between the towns of latium, or between the twelve cities of etruria. physical nature has doubtless some influence on the history of peoples, but the beliefs of men have a much greater. between two neighbouring cities there was something more impassable than a mountain--to wit, the series of sacred limits, the difference of cults, the barrier which each city set up between the stranger and its gods." all this, so far as it goes, is substantially true, but it does not at all conflict with the principle as above set forth. certainly all cities, like all tribes, were primarily separatist; though even in religious matters there was some measure of early peaceful inter-influence, and a certain tendency to syncresis as well as to separateness. (cp. k.o. müller, _dorians_, eng. tr. i, .) but the principle is not special to the cities of greece. cities and tribes were primarily separatist in babylonia and in egypt. how, then, were these regions nevertheless monarchised at an early period? clearly by reason of the greater invitingness and feasibility of conquest in such territories--for their unification was forcible. the conditions had thus both an objective and a subjective, a suggestive and a permissive force, both lacking in greece. again, the twelve cities of etruria _formed a league_. if they did so more readily and effectually than the greeks, is not the level character of their territory, which made them collectively open to attack, and facilitated intercourse, one of the obviously probable causes? no doubt the close presence of hostile and alien races was a further unifying force which did not arise in greece. etruria, finally, like latium, was unified by conquest; the question is, why was not greece? there is no answer save one--that in the pre-alexandrian period no greek state had acquired the military and administrative skill and resources needed to conquer and hold such a divided territory. certainly the conditions conserved the ideal of separateness and non-aggression or non-assimilation, so that cities which had easy access to each other respected each other's ideal. but here again it was known that an attempt at conquest would probably lead to alliances between the attacked state and others; and the physical conditions prevented any state save macedonia from becoming overwhelmingly strong. to these conditions, then, we always return, not as to sole causes, but as to determinants. (_d_) in egypt, again, culture was never deeply disseminated, and before alexander was hardly at all fecundated by outside contact. in greece there was always the great uncultured slave substratum; and the arrest of freedom, to say nothing of social ignorance, female subjection, and sexual perversion, ultimately kept vital culture stationary. in rome, militarism and the multiplication of the slave class, along with the deletion of the independent and industrious middle class, made progressive culture impossible, as surely as it broke down self-government. in all cases alike, over-population, not being met by science, either bred poverty or was obviated by crime and vice. the so-called regeneration of europe by the barbarian conquest, finally, was simply the beginning of a long period of corrupted and internecine barbarism, the old culture remaining latent; and not till after many centuries did the maturing barbaric civilisation in times of compulsory peace reach the capacity of being fecundated by the intelligent assimilation of the old. but after the renaissance, as before, the diseases of militarism and class privilege and the political subjection caused a backthrow and intellectual stagnation, which was assisted by the commercial decline brought upon italy; so that in the feudal period, in one state after another, we have the symptoms of, as it were, senile "decay" and retrogression.[ ] in all cases this is to be set down proximately to the deficit of new ideas, and in some to excess of strife, which exhausted spare energy among the leisured class, deepened the misery of the toilers, and normally prevented the intelligent intercourse of peoples. it is become a commonplace of historical philosophy that the crusades wrought for good inasmuch as they meant fresh communication between east and west. yet it may be doubted whether much more was not done through the quiet contacts of peace between saracen and christian in western europe, and by the commerce with the east which preceded the crusades,[ ] than by the forced intercourse following on religious war. in any case, the transition from quasi-decay to progress in christendom is clearly due to the entrance of new ideas of many species from many directions into the common stock; greek letters, saracen physics, and new geographical discovery all combining to generate thought. the case of japan, again, compares with both that of ancient greece and that of modern europe. its separate civilisation, advantageously placed in an archipelago, drew stimulus early in the historic period from that of china; and, while long showing the chinese unprogressiveness in other respects, partly in virtue of the peculiar burdensomeness of the chino-japanese system of ideograms, it made remarkable progress on the side of art. the recent rapid industrial development (injurious to the artistic life) is plainly a result of the european and american contact; and if only the mechanism of reading and writing be made manageable on the european lines, and the snare of militarism be escaped, the japanese civilisation may develop mentally as much as it is doing industrially and in military organisation. it suffices the practical political student, then, to note that progress is thus always a matter of intelligible causation; and, without concerning himself about predicting the future or estimating the sum of possibilities, to take up the tasks of contemporary politics as all other tasks are taken up by practical men, as a matter of adaptation of means to ends. the architect and engineer have nothing to do with calculating as to when the energy of the solar system will be wholly transmuted. as little has the politician to do with absolute estimates of the nature of progress. all alike have to do with the study of laws, forces, and economics. § we may now, then, set forth the all-pervading biological forces or tendencies of attraction and repulsion in human affairs as the main primary factors in politics or corporate life, which it is the problem of human science to control by counteracting or guiding; and we may without further illustration set down the principal modes in which these instincts appear. they are, broadly speaking:-- (_a_) animal pugnacities and antipathies of states or peoples, involving combinations, sanctified from the first by religion, and surviving as racial aspirations in subject peoples. (_b_) class divisions, economically produced, resulting in class combinations and hostilities within a state, and, in particular, popular desire for betterment. (_c_) the tendency to despotism as a cure for class oppression or anarchy; and the spirit of conquest. (_d_) the beneficent lure of commerce, promoting intercourse, countered by the commercial jealousies of states. (_e_) designs of rulers, giving rise to popular or aristocratic factions--complicated by questions of succession and loyalism. (_f_) religious combinations, antipathies, and ambitions, international or sectarian. in more educated communities, ideals of government and conduct. in every one of these modes, be it observed, the instinct of repulsion correlates with the instinct of attraction. the strifes are the strifes of combinations, of groups or masses united in themselves by sympathy, in antipathy to other groups or masses. the _esprit de corps_ arises alike in the species, the horde, the tribe, the community, the class, the faction, the nation, the trade or profession, the church, the sect, the party. always men unite to oppose; always they must love to hate, fraternise to struggle. the analogies in physics are obvious, but need not here be dwelt upon. there is a risk of losing concrete impressions, which are here in view, in a highly generalised statement of cosmic analogies. but it may be well to point out that a general view will perfectly reconcile the superficially conflicting doctrines of recent biologists, as to "progress by struggle" and "progress by co-operation." both statements hold good, the two phases being correlatives. i have said that it is extremely difficult to imagine a state of society in which there shall be no public operation of any one of these forces. i am disposed to say it is impossible, but for scientific purposes prefer to put simply the difficulties of the conception. a cessation of war is not only easily conceivable, but likely; but a cessation of strife of aspiration would mean a state of biological equilibrium throughout the civilised world. now, pure equilibrium is by general consent a state only momentarily possible; and the state of dissolution of unions, were that to follow, would involve strife of opinion at least up to a certain point. but just as evolution is now visibly towards an abandonment of brute strife among societies, so may it be reasonably expected that the strife of ideals and doctrines within societies, though now perhaps emotionally intense in proportion to the limitation of brute warfare, will gradually be freed of malevolent passion as organisms refine further. passion, in any case, has hitherto been at once motive-power and hindrance--the omnipresent force, since all ideas have their correlative emotion. a perception of this has led to some needless dispute over what is called the "economic theory" of history; critics insisting that men are ruled by non-economic as well as economic motives.[ ] the solution is perfectly simple. men are proximately ruled by their passions or emotions; and the supremacy of the economic factor consists in its being, for the majority, the most permanent director or stimulant of feeling. therefore, the great social rectification, if it ever come, must needs be economic. certainly, on the principle laid down, there is a likelihood that strife of ideals and doctrines may be for a time intensified by the very process of social reform, should that go to lessen the stress of the industrial struggle for existence. it is easy to see that england has in the past hundred and twenty years escaped the stress of domestic strife which in france wrought successive revolutions, not so much by any virtue in its partially democratic constitution as by the fact that on the one hand a war was begun with france by the english ruling classes at an early stage of the first revolution, and that on the other hand the animal energies of the middle and lower classes were on the whole freer than those of the french to run in the channels of industrial competition. people peacefully fighting each other daily in trade, not to speak of sports, were thereby partly safeguarded from carrying the instincts of attraction and repulsion in politics to the length of insurrection and civil war. when the strife of trade became congested, the spirit of political strife, fed by hunger, broke out afresh, to be again eased off when the country had an exciting foreign war on hand. so obvious is this that it may be the last card of conservatism to play off the war spirit against the reform spirit, as was done with some temporary success in england by beaconsfield, and as is latterly being done by his successors.[ ] the climaxing movement of political rationalism is evidently dependent on the limitation of the field of industrial growth and the absence of brute warfare. and if, as seems conceivable, political rationalism attains to a scientific provision for the well-being of the mass of the people, we shall have attained a condition in which the forces of attraction and repulsion, no longer flowing freely in the old social channels, may be expected to dig new ones or deepen those lately formed. the future channels, generally speaking, would tend to lie in the regions of political, ethical, and religious opinion; and the partial disuse of any one of these will tend to bring about the deepening of the others. but this is going far ahead; and it is our business rather to make clear, with the help of an analysis of analogous types of civilisation, what has happened in the modern past of our country. the simple general laws under notice are universal, and will be found to apply in all stages of history, though the interpretation of many phases of life by their means may be a somewhat complex matter. for instance, the life of china[ ] (above discussed) and that of india may at first sight seem to give little colour to the assumption of a constant play of social attraction and repulsion. the "unprogressiveness of asia" is dwelt on alike by many who know asia and many who do not. but this relative unprogressiveness is to be explained, like european progress, in terms of the conditions. china is simply a case of comparative culture-stability and culture-isolation. the capital condition of progress in civilisation has always been, as aforesaid, the contact of divergent races whose independent culture-elements, though different, are not greatly different in grade and prestige. now, the outside contacts of china, down till the eighteenth century, had been either with races which had few elements of civilisation to give her, like the mongols, or with a civilisation little different from or less vigorous than her own, like that of india. even these contacts counted for much, and chinese history has been full of political convulsions, despite--or in keeping with--the comparative stagnation of chinese culture. (on this see peschel, _races of men_, eng. tr. pp. - . cp. huc, _chinese empire_, eng. tr. ed. , p. xvii; walckenaer, _essai sur l'histoire de l'espèce humaine_, , pp. , ; and maine, _early history of institutions_, pp. , ). the very pigtail which for europe is the symbol of chinese civilisation is only two hundred years old, having come in with the mantchoo dynasty; and the policy of systematically excluding foreigners dates from the same period (huc, p. ). "no one," writes professor flint, "who has felt interest enough in that singular nation to study the researches and translations of remusat, pauthier, julien, legge, plath, faber, eitel, and others, will hesitate to dismiss as erroneous the commonplace that it has been an unprogressive nation" (_history of the philosophy of history_, vol. i, , p. ). china was in fact progressive while the variety of stocks scattered over her vast area reacted on each other in virtue of variety of government and way of life:[ ] it was when they were reduced under one imperial government that unity of state-system, coupled with the exclusion of foreign contacts, imposed stagnation. but the stagnation was real, and other factors contributed to its continuance. the fecundity of the soil has always maintained a redundant and therefore a poor and ignorant population--a condition which we have described as fatal to progress in culture if not counteracted, and which further favours the utter subjection of women and the consequent arrest of half the sources of variation. mencius, speaking to the rulers of his day ( rd c. b.c.), declared with simple profundity that "they are only men of education who, without a certain livelihood, are able to maintain a fixed heart. as to the people, if they have not a certain livelihood it follows that they will not have a fixed heart. and if they have not a fixed heart there is nothing they will not do in the way of self-abandonment, of moral deflection, of depravity, and of wild license" (legge, _life and works of mencius_, , p. ). that lesson the rulers of china could not learn, any more than their european congeners. we cannot, therefore, accede to professor flint's further remark that "the development and filiation of thought is scarcely less traceable in the history and literature of china than of greece"--that is, if it be meant that chinese history down till our own day may be so compared with the history of pagan greece. the forces of fixation in china have been too strong to admit of this. the same factors have been at work in india, where, further, successive conquests, down till our own, had results very similar to those of the barbarian conquest of the roman empire. yet at length, next door to china, in japan, there has rapidly taken place a national transformation that is not to be paralleled in the world's history; and in india the congress movement has developed in a way that twenty years ago was thought impossible.[ ] and while these things are actually happening before the world's eyes, certain englishmen vociferate more loudly than ever the formula of the "unchangeableness of asia." a saner, though still a speculative view, is put forth by mr. c.h. pearson in his work on _national character_. it was anticipated by--among others--m. philarète chasles. see his _l'angleterre politique_, édit. , pp. , . and walckenaer, over a hundred years ago (_essai_ cited, p. ), predicted the future civilisation of the vast plains of tartary. footnotes: [footnote : on this may be consulted a suggestive paper by mr. lowes dickinson in the _free review_, april, , and an instructive study by mr. t. whittaker, "a critical essay on the philosophy of history," in his _essays and notices_, . cp. spencer, "progress: its law and cause," in _essays_, vol. i.] [footnote : this also is posited by dunbar, _essays_ cited, pp. , .] [footnote : this again, as well as the general importance of culture-contacts, is noted by walckenaer, _essai_ cited, pp. - .] [footnote : this was seen in antiquity. julian, at least, pointed to the fashion in which the greeks had perfected studies the rudiments of which they had received from other peoples (_apud_ cyrill, v. ); and celsus had said it before him (origen, _contra celsum_, i. ).] [footnote : see some just remarks by bagehot in _physics and politics_, pp. - , proceeding on quatrefages, as to the varying success of given race-mixtures in different regions, in terms of the difference of the physical environment. compare schäffle, _bau und körper de socialen lebens_, - , ii, .] [footnote : cp. dunbar, as cited, p. , and bagehot, as cited, p. . in such cases as those of british india and french algiers the exception is only apparent, the european control being kept up by annual drafts of new men.] [footnote : _e.g._ the ancient Ægean civilisation, as seen in "minoan" crete; the colonies of the phoenicians; those of the greeks in asia minor, italy, and sicily; the medieval italian republics; the hansa towns; those of the netherlands; and the united states.] [footnote : see dr. cunningham, _western civilisation_, pp. , , - , - , etc., for an interesting development of this principle. cp. prof. ashley, _introduction to economic history_, - , i, , and hildebrand, as there cited. the originality of hildebrand's ideas on this point has perhaps been overrated by ochenkowski and others. smith recognised the main facts (_wealth of nations_, bk. i, c. iv). see also the passage from torrens cited by m'culloch in his essay on "money," _treatises_, ed. , pp. , .] [footnote : _e.g._ babylonia, egypt, alexander's empire, and rome.] [footnote : this was written before the recent revolution.] [footnote : since this was written china has undergone her new birth.] [footnote : cp. pearson's _history of england during the early and middle ages_, i, , and h.w. c. davis, _england under the normans and angevins_, , pp. , , .] [footnote : japan now runs a grave risk of such retrogression.] [footnote : cp. cunningham's _western civilisation_, i, .] [footnote : the point is argued at greater length by the author in an article on "the economics of genius" in the _forum_, april, (rep. in _essays in sociology_, vol. ii).] [footnote : cp. tiele, _outlines of the history of religion_, eng. tr. pp. , , and the present writer's _short history of freethought_, nd ed. i, - .] [footnote : the civilisations of north america and the english "dominions," while showing much diffusion of average culture, produce thus far relatively few of the highest fruits because of social immaturity and the smallness of their culture class.] [footnote : aristotle, _politics_, ii, ; v, .] [footnote : grote (ii, ) argues that the need to move the cattle between high and low grounds promoted communication between "otherwise disunited villages." but that would be a small matter. the essential point is that, whatever the contacts, the communities remained alien to each other.] [footnote : see stubbs, _const. hist. of england_, th ed. iii, - , as to england in the fifteenth century; and michelet, introd. to _renaissance_ (vol. vii of _hist. de france_).] [footnote : see below, pt. vi, ch. i, § .] [footnote : this discussion also goes back for at least two centuries. see shaftesbury's _characteristics_, misc. iii, ch. i (vol. iii, pp. , ).] [footnote : note, in this connection, the tactic of mr. balfour in the election struggle of - .] [footnote : this was written, of course, before the recent uprising.] [footnote : cp. professor giles, _the civilisation of china_, pp. - , as to the little-recognised diversity of chinese speech, stock, and climate.] [footnote : since these words were written china in turn has had her new birth, vindicating the doctrine above set forth.] part ii economic forces in ancient history chapter i roman economic evolution by singling out one set of the forces of aggregation and disintegration touched on in the foregoing general view, it is possible to get a more concrete idea of what actually went on in the roman body politic. it is always useful in economic science, despite protests to the contrary, to consider bare processes irrespectively of ethical feeling; and the advantage accrues similarly in the "economic interpretation of history."[ ] we have sufficiently for our purpose considered roman history under the aspects of militarism and class egoism: it remains to consider it as a series of economic phenomena. this has been facilitated by many special studies. gibbon covers much of the ground in chapters , , , , , , and ; and professor guglielmo ferrero sheds new light at some points in his great work, _the greatness and decline of rome_ (eng. trans. vols. - ), though his economics at times calls for revision. cp. alison on "the fall of rome," in _essays_, , vol. iii (a useful conspectus, though flawed by some economic errors); spalding's _italy and the italian islands_, rd ed. , i, - ; dureau de la malle, _Économie politique des romains_, , t. ii; robiou et delaunay, _les institutions de l'ancienne rome_, , vol. iii, ch. ; fustel de coulanges, _le colonat romain_, etc.; finlay, _history of greece from its conquest by the romans_, ed. , ch. i, §§ - ; long, _decline of the roman republic_, vol. i, , chs. xi, xii, xx (a work full of sound criticism of testimonies); w.t. arnold, _roman provincial administration_, ; brooks adams, _the law of civilisation and decay_, , ch. i; and dr. cunningham's _western civilisation_, vol. i, . among many learned and instructive german treatises may be noted the preisschrift of r. pöhlmann, _die uebervölkerung der antiken grossstädte_, leipzig, . special notice is due to the recent work of w.r. patterson, _the nemesis of nations_, --a valuable study of slavery. as we have first traced them, the romans are a cluster of agricultural and pastoral tribes, chronically at war with their neighbours, and centring round certain refuge-fortresses on one or two of the "seven hills." whether before or after conquest by monarchic etruscans, these tribes tended normally to fall into social grades in which relative wealth and power tended to go together. the first source of subsistence for all was cattle-breeding and agriculture, and that of the richer was primarily slave labour, a secondary source being usury. slaves there were in the earliest historic times. but from the earliest stages wealth was in some degree procured through war, which yielded plunder in the form of cattle,[ ] the principal species of riches in the ages before the precious metals stood for the command of all forms of wealth. thus the rich tended to grow richer even in that primitive community, their riches enabling them specially to qualify themselves for war, so getting more slaves and cattle, and to acquire fresh slave labour in time of peace, while in time of war the poor cultivator ran a special risk of being himself reduced to slavery at home, in that his farm was untilled, while that of the slave-owner went on as usual.[ ] long before the ages described as decadent, the lapse of the poor into slavery was a frequent event. "the law of debt, framed by creditors, and for the protection of creditors, was the most horrible that has ever been known among men."[ ] when the poorer cultivator borrowed stock or seed from the richer, he had first to pay a heavy interest; and when in bad years he failed to meet that liability he could be at once sold up and finally enslaved with his family, so making competition all the harder for the other small cultivators. as against the plainly disintegrating action of such a system, however, wars of conquest and plunder became to some extent a means of popular salvation, the poorer having ultimately their necessary share in the booty, and, as the state grew, in the conquered lands. military expansion was thus an economic need. in such an inland community, commerce could grow but slowly, the products being little adapted for distant exchange. the primitive prejudice of landholders against trade, common to greece and rome, left both handicraft and commerce largely to aliens and pariahs.[ ] the traders, as apart from the agriculturists and vine-and olive-growers, would as a rule be foreigners, "non-citizens," having no political rights; and their calling was from the first held in low esteem by the richer natives, were it only because in comparison it was always apt to involve some overreaching of the agriculturist,[ ] which as between man and man could be seen to be a bad thing by moralists who had no scruples about usury and enslavement for debt. and as the scope of the state increased from age to age, the patrician class found ready to its hand means of enrichment which yielded more return with much less trouble than was involved in commerce. the prejudice against trade was no bar to brigandage. on the other hand, the first practical problem of all communities, taxation, was intelligently faced by the roman aristocracy from the outset. the payment of the _tributum_ or occasional special tax for military purposes was a condition of the citizen franchise, and so far the patricians were all burdened where the unenfranchised plebeians were not. but this contribution "was looked upon as a forced loan, and was repaid when the times improved."[ ] and there were other compensations. the use of the public pastures (which seem at one time to have been the sole source of the state's revenue[ ]), and the cultivation of public land, were operations which could be so conducted as to pay the individual without paying the state. it is clear that frauds in this connection were at all times common: the tithes and rents due on the _ager publicus_ were evaded, and the land itself appropriated wherever possible by the more powerful, though still called public property.[ ] "the poorer plebeian, therefore, always strove to have conquered lands divided, and not kept as _ager publicus_; while the landless men who got allotments at a distance were inclined to regard their migration as an almost equal grievance. if the rich men, they argued, had not monopolised the public pastures with their herds, and treated the lands which they leased at a nominal rental as their own, there would have been enough land at home to divide among those who had been ruined while serving their country in arms."[ ] but as the sphere of conquest widened, another economic phase supervened. where newly conquered territory was too distant to tempt any save the poorest citizens, or to be directly utilised by the rich, it could still be made _ager publicus_ and rented to its own inhabitants; and the collection of this and other exactions from subject provinces gradually grew to be a main source of roman wealth. for the mere cattle-looting of the early days there was substituted the systematic extortion of tribute. "in antiquity conquest meant essentially the power to impose a tribute upon the conquered";[ ] and "until the time of augustus the romans had maintained their armies by seizing and squandering the accumulated [bullion] capital hoarded by all the nations of the world."[ ] meanwhile the upper classes were directly or indirectly supported by the annual tribute which from the time of the conquest of greece was drawn solely from the provinces. paulus emilius brought from the sack of hellas so enormous a treasure in bullion, as well as in objects of art, that the exaction of the _tributum_ from roman citizens, however rich, was felt to have become irrational; and henceforth, until augustus re-imposed taxation to pay his troops, italy sponged undisguisedly on the rest of the empire.[ ] cæsar's expeditions were simply quests for plunder and revenue; and the reason for his speedy retreat from britain, for which there have been framed so many superfluous explanations, is plainly given in the letter of cicero in which he tells of the news sent him from britain by his brother--"no hope of plunder."[ ] but the supreme need was a regular annual tribute, preferably in bullion, but welcome as corn. on the one hand the exacted revenue supported the military and the bureaucracy; on the other hand, the business of collecting taxes and tribute was farmed out in the hands of companies of _publicani_, mainly formed of the so-called knights, the _equites_ of the early days; in whose hands rich senators, in defiance of legal prohibition, placed capital sums for investment,[ ] as they had previously used foreigners, who were free to take usury where a roman was not. of such money-makers gallia provincia was already full in the days of cicero.[ ] roman administration was thus a matter of financially exploiting the empire in the interest of the roman moneyed classes;[ ] and the ruthless skill with which the possibilities of the situation were developed is perhaps even now not fully realised. the roman financier could secure a tribute upon tribute by lending to a subject city or state the money demanded of it by the government, and charge as much interest on the loan as the borrowers could well pay. we know that the notoriously conscientious brutus, of sacred memory, thus lent, or backed a friend who lent, money to tribute-payers at per cent., or at least demanded per cent. on his loans, and sought to use the power of the executive to extort the usury.[ ] all this, we are to remember, went on without any furtherance of total domestic wealth-production. when corn-growing fell off, irrecoverably depressed by the unearned import from the richer soils of tributary provinces, there was a transference, partly economic, partly luxurious, of agricultural labour to vine-and olive-culture, and a wholesale turning of arable land to pasture. some export of wine and olives followed, though the rich romans tended to drink the wines of greece. but italy had ceased to be self-supporting. the produce she imported was far in excess of her power of export;[ ] so that in sheer factitiousness the revenue of rome is without parallel in history. modern england, which has grown rich by burning up its coal in manufacture or selling it outright, but in the process has acquired a share in the national and municipal debts of all other countries--england is stable in comparison. while it lasts, the coal educes manufactures, which also earn imports and constitute loans. so with the recent exploitation of german iron; though in that case there has been much of sheer national waste in the wholesale export of iron at "dumping" prices in times of trade depression. but the history of rome was a progressive paralysis of italian production; and the one way in which the administration can be said to have counteracted the process--as apart from the spontaneous resort to vine-and olive-culture and to slave manufactures--was by forcing more-or-less unprofitable mining for gold and silver wherever any could be got, thus giving what stimulus can be given to demand by the mere placing of fresh bullion on the market. roman civilisation was thus irrevocably directed to an illusory end, with inevitably fatal results. bullion had come to standfor public wealth, and wars were made for mines as well as for tribute, spain in particular being prized for her mining resources. as a necessary sequence, therefore, copper money was ousted by silver (b.c. ), and silver finally, after a long transition period, by gold, about the time of severus.[ ] the silver had been repeatedly debased when the treasury was in difficulties;[ ] and in the later days of the empire it seems to have been base beyond all historic parallel,[ ] though a large revenue was extorted till the end. between revenue and tax-farming profits and the yield of the mines, the roman moneyed class must indeed have spent a good deal, so long as the tributaries were not exhausted. but their economic demand was mainly for--(_a_) foods, spices, wines, cloths, gems, marbles, and wares produced by the more prosperous provinces; (_b_) expensive forms of food, fish, and fowl, raised chiefly on the estates run by their own class; (_c_) some wares of home production; and (_d_) _services_[ ] from artists, architects, master craftsmen, slaves, mimes, parasites, and meretrices, whose economic demand in turn would as far as possible go in the same directions. as for the mass of the town people, slave or free, which ought on common-sense principles to have been employed either in industry or on the land, it was by a series of hand-to-mouth measures on the part of the government, and by the operation of ordinary self-interest on the part of the rich class, made age by age more unproductive industrially and more worthless politically. despite such a reform as the licinian law of b.c.,[ ] which for a time seems to have restored a yeoman class to the state and greatly developed its fighting power, the forces of outside competition and of capitalism gradually ousted the yeomen cultivators all over italy, leaving the land mainly in the hands of the patricians and financiers of the city, who exploited it either by slave labour or by grinding down the former cultivators as tenants. even on this footing, a certain amount of industry would be forced on the towns. but not only was that also largely in the hands of slave-masters, with the result that demotic life everywhere was kept on the lowest possible plane: the emperors gradually adopted on humane grounds a policy which demoralised nearly all that was left of sound citizenship. as of old, monarchy in the hands of the more rational and conscientious men tended to seek for the mass of the people some protection as against the upper class; and the taxes and customs laid on by augustus, to the disgust of the senate, were an effort in this direction. but this was rather negative than positive protection, and the effort inevitably went further. in the last rally of what may be termed conscientious aristocratic republicanism, such as it was, we find caius gracchus, as tribune, helping the plebs by causing grain to be sold at a half or a fourth of its market value--an expedient pathetically expressive of the hopeless distance that then lay between public spirit and social science. both of the gracchi sought by violent legal measures to wring the appropriated public lands from the hands of the rich, with the inevitable result of raising against themselves a host of powerful enemies. the needed change could not be so effected. but even if it had been, it could not have endured. the greek advisers of tiberius gracchus, blossius of cumæ and diophanes of mitylene,[ ] looked solely to redistribution, taking for granted the permanence of slavery, the deadliest of all inequalities. the one way, if there were any, in which the people could be saved was by a raising of their social status; and that was impossible without an arrest of slavery and a cessation of extorted tribute. but no roman thinker save the gracchi and their predecessors and imitators seems ever to have dreamt of the former, and no one contemplated the latter remedy. least of all were the roman ruling class likely to think of either; and though tiberius gracchus did avowedly seek to substitute free for slave labour,[ ] and wrought to that end; and though caius gracchus did in his time of power employ a large amount of free labour on public works, one such effort counted for nothing against the normal attitude of the patriciate. in order to fight the senate he had to conciliate the _publicani_ and money-lenders as well as the populace, and the reforms of the two brothers came to nothing.[ ] there is no record that in the contracts between the treasury and the companies of _publicani_ any stipulation was ever made as to their employing free labour, or in any way considering the special needs of the populations among whom they acted.[ ] thus a mere cheapening of bread could do nothing to aid free labour as against capitalism using slaves. on the contrary, such aids would tend irresistibly to multiply the host of idlers and broken men who flocked to rome from all its provinces, on the trail of the plunder. industrial life in rome was for most of them impossible, even were they that way inclined;[ ] and the unceasing inward flow would have been a constant source of public danger had the multitude not been somehow pacified. the method of free or subsidised distribution of grain,[ ] however, was so easy a way of keeping rome quiet, in the period of rapidly spreading conquest and mounting tribute, that in spite of the resistance of the moneyed classes[ ] it was adhered to. sulla naturally checked the practice, but still it was revived; and cæsar, after his triumph in africa, found the incredible number of , citizens in receipt of regular doles of cheapened or gratis corn. he in turn, though he had been concerned in extending it,[ ] took strong measures to check the corrosion, reducing the roll to , ;[ ] but even that was in effect a confession that the problem was past solution by the policy, so energetically followed by him, of re-colonising in italy, corinth, carthage, spain, and gaul. and if cæsar sought to limit the gifts of bread, he seems to have outgone his predecessors in his provision of the other element in the popular ideal--the circus; his shows being bloodier as well as vaster than those of earlier days.[ ] a public thus treated to sport must needs have cheap food as well. of this policy, the economic result was to carry still further the depression of italian agriculture. the corn supplied at low rates or given away by the administration was of course bought or taken in the cheapest markets--those of sardinia and sicily, egypt, africa, and gaul--and importation once begun would be carried to the utmost lengths of commercialism. italian farms, especially those at a distance from the capital,[ ] could not compete with the provinces save by still further substituting large slave-tilled farms for small holdings, and grinding still harder the face of the slave. when finally augustus,[ ] definitely establishing the system of lowered prices and doles, subsidised the trade in the produce of conquered egypt to feed his populace, and thus still further promoted the importation of the cheapest foreign grain, the agriculture of a large part of italy, and even of parts of some provinces, was practically destroyed. it has been argued by m'culloch (_treatises and essays: history of commerce_, nd ed. p. , _note_) that it is impossible that the mere importation of the corn required to feed the populace--say a million quarters or more--could have ruined the agriculture of italy. this expresses a misconception of what took place. the doles were not universal, and the emperors naturally preferred to limit themselves as far as possible to paying premiums for the importation and cheap sale of corn. (cp. suetonius, _claudius_, c. , and the digest, iii, , ; xiv, i, , ; xlvii, ix, , ; l, v, , etc.) all of the conquered provinces, practically, had to pay a tithe of their produce; and where corn was specially cheap it would be likely to come to rome in that form. (cp. dureau de la malle, _Écon. polit. des romains_, ii, _sq._) many of the patrician families, besides, owned great estates in africa, and they would receive their revenues in produce. egyptian, sardinian, sicilian, and african corn could thus easily undersell italian for ordinary consumption. for the rest, the produce of egypt would be a means of special revenue to the emperor. cp. m'culloch's own statement, p. . prof. ferrero (_greatness and decline of rome_, eng. trans. ii, app. a) has independently (but in agreement with weber and salvioli) carried m'culloch's thesis further, and has opposed the view that the "competition" of sicilian and african wheat "was the cause of the agricultural depression from which italy began to suffer in b.c." his own theory is the singular one that the "depression" was caused by "the increased cost of living" arising out of luxurious habits! this untenable and indeed unintelligible conclusion he ostensibly reaches by a series of arguments that are alternately incoherent and rotatory, of propositions some of which are rebutted by himself, and of assumptions that are plainly astray. the dispute may be condensed thus:-- ( ) "in antiquity," the professor begins, "each district consumed its own wheat"; yet he goes on to mention that in the fifth and fourth centuries b.c. attica was "obliged to import, even in good seasons, between , , and , , bushels." this contradiction he appears to think is saved by the addendum that "the amount in question is a very small one, compared with the figures of modern commerce." naturally it is, athens being a small state compared with those of to-day. but the contradiction stands unresolved. and it follows that larger towns, not placed in fruitful "districts," would have proportionally larger imports. ( ) "moreover," writes the professor, "while the industrial countries of to-day seek so far as possible to check the import of cereals by protective duties, athens used every expedient of war and diplomacy to render the supply of imported corn both regular and abundant." it is startling to find a professor of history, a sociological historian, unaware that britain, belgium, and holland have no import duties on corn. (the most exclusive state in that matter is portugal, which, with no pretensions to be an industrial state, prohibits corn imports altogether.) ( ) more plausibly, prof. ferrero argues that the policy of athens proves that "corn was not easily transported for sale beyond the local market." but the efforts of the athenians "to obtain the mastery of the black sea, and especially of the bosphorus, _in order to capture the corn trade for themselves_, or to entrust it, on their own conditions, to whom they pleased," proves that the difficulties of transport were mainly those set up by hostile states or pirates, and that--as the professor admits--the fertile crimea, with its sparse population, yielded an easy surplus for export. ( ) all this, however, is only partially relevant to the question of the supplies of rome from sicily, sardinia, africa, and spain in the second century b.c. did such supplies come, or did they not? as the professor admits, they were "vital" to the roman military policy; and "she had immense granaries at her disposal whenever she required them." but such sources of supply meant a certain large normal production; and this would enter italy in time of peace. if it was purposely maintained in view of the needs of war-time, so much the more surely would it undersell italian wheat, raised on a less fruitful soil. in no other way could sicily and africa yield either annual tribute to rome or rents to roman owners of land in those countries. the first effect of the importation would be to add the pressure of lowered prices to the discouragement already offered to private cultivators by the inducements of loot in war, fleecings in administration of newly conquered countries, commerce, and usury. of this discouragement the sequel would be the attempt to run by slave labour the large estates in which the old farms were merged. but slave labour is apt to be bad labour, and agriculture could not thereby be restored. ( ) the thesis that agriculture was _depressed_ by high cost of living (= high prices for agricultural products) it is not easy to treat with seriousness. the simple fact is that sea-carriage to rome from sicily, spain, and africa must have been cheaper than land carriage from most parts of italy to the capital. as prof. ferrero notes, food prices in the valley of the po were very low--obviously because cost of carriage either to rome or to the southern seaports deterred export. ( ) prof. ferrero's fallacy is capped by his proposition that "the economic crisis from which italy has been suffering during the last twenty years is due to the increased cost of living occasioned by the introduction, from onwards, of the industrial civilisation of england and france into an old agricultural society." the confusion here defies analysis. suffice it to say that the high cost of living in modern italy is due to tariffs and high taxation. sugar is dear there not because italians consume it luxuriously--they do not and cannot--but because a particularly unintelligent policy of protection causes them to pay for beetroot sugar produced in a country ill-suited to the growth of beetroot. living costs more in germany, france, and the united states than in britain, not because those countries have only recently become "luxurious," but because they heavily tax imports. costs of living in rome certainly rose as romans raised their standards of consumption; but their importation of corn from conquered provinces kept food prices lower than they would have been otherwise; and italian agriculture was largely abandoned in favour of easier ways of making money. prof. ferrero supplies a partial confutation of his economic theory by his own account (i, ) of how, in the time of pompey, "once more the precious metals were _cheap and abundant_" after a time of scarcity, and the decadent slave system of agriculture was superseded by new forms of production. (see above, p. , _note_.) but abundant bullion means high prices for produce, which the professor has declared to be a cause of depression! as to the new production, the process certainly cannot have taken place with the rapidity which his description suggests. "the hideous slave-shelters or compounds [_ergastula_], with their gangs of forced labourers, vanished from the scene, together with the huge desolate tracts of pasture where they had spent their days [?], to be replaced by vineyards, olive-groves, and orchards, now planted in all parts of the peninsula, ... estates on which the new slave immigrants contentedly cultivated the vine or the olive, or bred animals for the stable or transport, under the direction of a greek or oriental bailiff; ... pleasant cottages of landlords, who farmed their own holdings with the help of a few slaves." all this cannot have happened in the time of pompey. but in any case, inasmuch as bullion was rife, prices in general must have been high, yet without "depression"; and the new demand for wine and olives, in the terms of the case, made their cultivation remunerative. but "huge pastures" cannot have been "replaced" by vineyards and olive-groves; and italian agriculture did not in imperial times become again the thing it had been. it was not that, as pliny put it in the perpetually quoted phrase,[ ] the _latifundia_, the great estates, had ruined italy and began to ruin the provinces; it was that, first, the fertile conquered provinces, notably sicily, undersold italy; whereafter the economically advantaged competition of egypt, as imperially exploited, and of the african provinces, undersold the produce of most of the other regions, and would have done so equally had their agriculture remained in the hands of small farmers. the _latifundia_ were themselves effects of the policy of conquest and annexation. the theory that "those large pastoral estates, and that slave-cultivation, which had so powerful and so deleterious an influence over italian husbandry and population, may be principally ascribed to the confiscations and the military colonies of sulla and his successors," is clearly wide of the mark. so m'culloch, _treatises and essays: colonial system of the ancients_, p. . no doubt agriculture went rapidly from bad to worse in the convulsions of sulla's rule, when whole territories passed into the hands of his partisans. these would be bent on the use of slave labour, and would take to the forms of production which gave them the best money return. on the other hand, in an age of chronic confiscation of whole areas, steady men were not likely to be attracted to the land. see prof. pelham's _outlines_, p. ; dureau de la malle, _Écon. polit. des romains_, vol. ii, liv. iii, ch. . large capitalistic estates were beginning to arise in attica in the time of solon, and were normal in the time of xenophon.[ ] in carthage, where they likewise arose in due economic course, they do not seem to have hurt agriculture, though worked by slave labour;[ ] and, on the other hand, the roman military colonies were an attempt, albeit vain, to restore a free farming population. in italy the disease was older than sulla. when tiberius gracchus was passing through etruria on his way from spain, fifty years before the rule of sulla, he saw no free labourers, but only slaves in chains.[ ] the true account of the matter is this: that if italy had not conquered sicily, north africa, egypt, and the other fertile provinces, their competition could not have come to pass as it did; for any imports in that case would have had to be paid for by exports, and italy had nothing adequate to export. it was the power to exact tribute, or otherwise the appropriation of conquered territory as estates by the nobles,[ ] that upset the economic balance. not merely in order to support the policy of cheap or free food--which was extended to other large italian cities--but because corn was the staple product of sicily and egypt and north africa, the tribute came in large measure in the form of foods; and in so far as it came in bullion, the coin had to be speedily re-exported to pay for further food and for the manufactures turned out by the provinces, and bought by the italian rich. save in so far as rich amateurs of agriculture went on farming at small profit or at a loss,[ ] italy produced little beyond olives and wine and cattle,[ ] and ordinary wares for home consumption. industrially considered, the society of the whole peninsula was thus finally a mere shell, doing its exchanges mainly in virtue of the annual income it extorted from provincial labour, and growing more and more worthless in point of character as its vital basis grew more and more strictly factitious. it would be accurate to say of the empire, as represented by part of italy and the capital, that it was a vast economic simulacrum. the paternal policy of the emperors,[ ] good and bad, wrought to pretty much the same kind of result as the egoism of the upper classes had done; and though their popular measures must have exasperated the senate, that body had in general to tolerate their well-meaning deeds as it did their crimes.[ ] we may perhaps better understand the case by supposing a certain economic development to take place in england in the distant future. at present we remain, as we are likely long to remain, economically advantaged or beneficed for manufacture by our coalfields, which are unequalled in europe, though germany, through the invention which made her phosphoric iron workable, has a larger store of the chief industrial metal. in return for our coal and manufactures and our shipping services, we import foods and goods that otherwise we could not pay for; and the additional revenue from british investments in foreign debts and enterprises further swells the food and raw material import, thus depressing to a considerable extent _our_ agriculture under a system of large farms. when in the course of centuries the coalfields are exhausted, unless it should be found that the winds and tides can be made to yield electric power cheaply enough, our manufacturing population will probably dwindle. either the united states will supersede us with their stores of coal, or--if, as may well be, their stores are already exhausted by a vaster exploitation--china may take the lead. the chief advantage left us would be the skill and efficiency of our industrial population--an important but incalculable factor.[ ] a "return to the land," if not achieved beforehand, might in that case be assumed to be inevitable; but should australian, indian, and north and south american wheat-production continue (as it may or may not) to have the same relative advantages of soil, our remaining city populations would continue to buy foreign corn; and the land might still be largely turned to pasture. that remaining city population, roughly speaking, would in the terms of the case consist of (_a_) those persons drawing incomes from foreign investments; (_b_) those workmen, tradesmen, and professional people who could still be successfully employed in manufactures, or whom the interest-drawing classes employed to do their necessary home-work, as the romans perforce employed to the last many workmen and doctors and scribes, slave or free; (_c_) those who might earn incomes by seafaring; and (_d_) the official class--necessarily reduced, like every other. until the incomes from foreign investments had in some measure disappeared, the country could not gravitate down to an economically stable recommencement in agriculture. we need not consider curiously whether things would or will happen in exactly this way: the actual presumption is that before coal is exhausted the whole social structure will be modified; and it is conceivable that the idle class may have been eliminated. but we are supposing a less progressive evolution for illustration's sake. suffice it that such a development would be in a measure economically analogous to what took place in ancient rome. if the upper-class population of such a hypothetical future in england, instead of receiving only dividends from foreign stocks and pensions from the revenue of india, were able to extort an absolute tribute from india and other dominions, the parallel would be so much the closer. what held together the roman empire so long was, on the one hand, the developed military and juridical organisation with its maintaining revenue, and on the other hand the absence of any competent antagonist. could a mithridates or an alexander have arisen during the reign of one of the worse emperors, he might more easily have overrun the roman world than rome did carthage. as it was, all the civilised parts of the empire shared its political anæmia; and indeed the comparative comfort of the roman peace, with all its burden of taxation, was in many of the provinces a sufficient though precarious ground for not returning to the old life of chronic warfare, at least for men who had lost the spirit of reasoned political self-assertion. under good emperors, the system worked imposingly enough; and mommsen, echoing gibbon, not unwarrantably bids us ask ourselves whether the south of europe has ever since been better governed than it was under the antonines.[ ] the purely piratical plunder carried on by governors under the republic was now, no doubt, in large measure restricted. but, to say nothing of the state of character and intellect, the economic evisceration was proceeding steadily alike under good emperors and bad, and the stoic jurists did but frame good laws for a worm-eaten society. so long as the seat of empire remained at rome, drawing the tribute thither, the imperial system would give an air of solidity to italian life; but when the roman population itself grew cosmopolitanised in all its classes, taking in all the races of the empire, the provinces were in the terms of the case as roman as the capital; and there was no special reason, save the principle of concentration, why the later emperors should reside there. where of old the provincial governors had extorted from their subjects fortunes for themselves, to be spent in rome like the public tribute, they would now tend to act as permanent dwellers in their districts.[ ] once the palace was set up elsewhere, the accessories of administration inevitably followed; and the transference of official and other population would partly balance the restriction of food supply caused by the deflection of egyptian corn-tribute to constantinople--a loss that had to be made good by a drain on libya and carthage.[ ] but when under valentinian and valens the empire came to be definitely divided, the western section, whose main source of revenue was the african province, speedily fell into financial straits. valentinian had on his hands in the ten years of his reign three costly wars--one to recover britain, one to repel the alemanni from gaul, one to recover africa from firmus; and it was apparently the drain on revenue thus set up, aggravated by an african famine,[ ] that drove gratian on his accession to the step of confiscating the revenues of the pagan cults.[ ] so great was the state's need that even the pagan eugenius could not restore the pagan revenues. thenceforth the financial decay headed the military; and we shall perhaps not be wrong in saying that the growth of medieval italy, the new and better-rooted life which was to make possible the renaissance, obscurely began when italy, stripped of gaul and spain and africa, and cut off from the east, which held egypt, was deprived of its unearned income, and the populace had in part to turn for fresh life to agriculture and industry. the flight of the propertied families at each successive sack of rome by goth and vandal must have left freedom to many, and room for new enterprise to the more capable, though in some districts there seems to have been absolute depopulation. and while italy thus fell upon a wholesomer poverty,[ ] the provinces would be less impoverished. some of the ruin, indeed, has not been remedied to this day. part of the curse of conquest was the extension of the malarious area of italian soil, always considerable. the three temples to the goddess fever in rome were the recognition of a standing scourge, made active by every overflow of the tiber; and pestilent areas were common throughout the land. but when the great plain of latium was well peopled, the feverous area was in constant process of reduction by agriculture and drainage; and the inhabitants had become in large part immune to infection.[ ] in the early, the "social" and the later civil wars it was devastated and depopulated to such an extent that pliny[ ] could enumerate fifty-three utterly eliminated stocks or "peoples," and could cite the record of thirty-three towns which had stood where now were the pontine marshes.[ ] as early as b.c. the land round rome was counted unhealthy, so that veterans were loth to settle on it;[ ] but population went back instead of forward. it is thus true that the malaria of the campagna and other districts was an ancient trouble;[ ] but it was the perpetual march of conquest, for ever sending forth to more attractive soils the stocks who might have re-peopled and recovered it, that made that and so much more of italy fixedly pestilential down to modern times. thus the paralysis of italian production by conquest was a twofold process, direct and indirect. in ancient as in later times, doubtless, attempts were made to bring back to human habitation the stricken deserts that stained italy like a leprosy. thus cæsar sought early to repeople campania from the idle populace of rome.[ ] but to maintain steady cultivation in unhealthy regions there was needed an immune stock, and that was reproducible only by the old way of savage, self-preserving persistence on the part of hardy and primitive rustics working their own land. the new imported stocks, slave or free, wilted away before the scourge of fever; and the "principle of population," weakened in the spring, failed to surmount the resistance of nature. under the early empire the labour needed for the culture of the campagna had to be brought in annually from distant districts; and when the invading goths in the fifth century devastated the whole area there was no energy left to recover it. [the theories once current as to ancient knowledge of prophylactics in the shape of perfumes and the habitual use of woollen clothing may be dismissed as fanciful. the rational conclusion is that the early races developed a relative immunity, which was possessed neither by the eastern stocks imported in the period of conquest nor by the later invading teutons. it is noteworthy, however, that at all times the dwellers in the tainted areas learned something of the necessary hygiene. see dureau de la malle, as cited. his investigation is interesting as showing how, in the early decades of the nineteenth century, long before pasteur, biology had reached the perception that fevers come of an organic infection. it was doubtless such knowledge that led the romans to burn their dead.] there remains the question, what is the precise economic statement of the final collapse? it is easy to figure that in terms of _(a)_ increasing barbarian enterprise, stimulated by the personal experience of the many barbarians who served the empire, and of _(b)_ increasing moral weakness on the part of the whole administrative system. and doubtless this change in the balance of military energy was decisive. when utter weaklings sat by heredity in the imperial chair, at best contemptuously tolerated by their alien officers, the end was necessarily near. the most incurable disease of empire was just empire; ages of parasitism had made the roman ruling class incapable of energetic action; and the autocracy had long withheld from citizens the use of arms. but the long subsistence of the eastern empire as contrasted with the western proves that not only had the barbarians an easier task against italy in terms of its easiness of invasion, but the defence was there relatively weaker in terms of lack of resources. this lack has been wholly or partly explained by quite a number of writers[ ] as a result of a failure in the whole supply of the precious metals--a proposition which may be understood of either a falling-off in the yield of the mines or a general withdrawal of bullion from the empire. it is difficult to see how either explanation can stand. there was already an immense amount of bullion in the empire, and a general withdrawal could take place only by way of export to the barbarian east in return for commodities.[ ] but the eastern provinces of the empire were still in themselves abundantly productive, and after the fall of rome they continued to exhibit industrial solvency. no doubt the plunder of rome by alaric ( - ) greatly crippled the west, and the loss of gaul and spain was worse; but while the empire retained africa it had a source of real revenue. the beginning of the end, or rather the virtual end, came with the conquest of the african province by the vandals ( - ). in came the sack of rome by the vandals, whereafter there remains only a shadow of the roman empire, till odoaker, dismissing augustulus, makes himself king of italy. as for the falling-off in the yield of the spanish mines, to which some writers seem to attribute the whole collapse, it could only mean that the roman government at length realised what had been as true before and has been as true since, that _all_ gold-mining, save in the case of the richest and easiest mines, separately considered, or of groups of mines which have been acquired at less cost than went to find and open them, is carried on at a loss as against the standing competition of the great mass of precious metal above-ground at any moment, the output of unknown barbarian toil and infinite slave labour, begun long before the age of written history.[ ] when it was reluctantly realised that the cost of working either the gold or the silver mines was greater to the state than their product,[ ] they would be abandoned; though under a free government private speculators would have been found ready to risk more money in reopening them immediately. as a matter of fact, the spanish mines were actually worked by the saracens in the middle ages, and have been since. the romans had made the natural blunder of greed in taking all gold and silver mines into the hands of the state,[ ] where speculative private enterprise would have gone on working them at a loss, and so adding--vainly enough--to the total bullion in circulation, on which the state could levy its taxes. even as it was, when they were losing nothing, but rather checking loss, by abandoning the mines, a falling-off in revenue from one source could have been made good by taxation if the fiscal system had remained unimpaired, and if the former income of italy had not been affected by other causes than a stoppage of mining output. if the mere cessation of public gold-mining were the cause of a general weakening of the imperial power, and by consequence the cause of the collapse in italy, it ought equally to have affected the eastern empire, which we know to have possessed a normal sufficiency of bullion all through the dark and middle ages, though it had no mines left.[ ] the fact is that, when valentinian and valens divided the empire between them, the former chose the western half because he shared the delusion that the spanish mines were a greater source of real wealth than the fruitful provinces of the east. those could always procure the bullion they required, because they had produce to exchange for it. gold mines even of average fertility could have availed no more; and if italy had remained agriculturally productive she could have sustained herself without any mines. dr. cunningham, in his study of the economic conditions of the declining empire, appears to lay undue stress on the factor of scarcity of bullion, and does not duly recognise the difference of progression between the case of italy and that of the east. "the roman empire," he writes (p. , _note_), lacked both treasure and capital, "and _it perished_." when? the eastern seat of the empire survived the western by a thousand years. "it seems highly improbable," he argues again (p. ), "that the drain of silver to the east, which continued during the middle ages, was suspended at any period of the history of the empire." but such a drain (which means a depletion) cannot go on for twelve hundred years; and it was certainly not a drain of silver to the east that ruined the byzantine empire. finlay's dictum (i, ) that the debasement of the currency between caracalla and gallienus "annihilated a great part of the trading capital in the roman empire and rendered it impossible to carry on commercial transactions, not only with foreign countries but even with distant provinces," is another erroneous theorem. it seems clear that the italian collapse occurred as it did because, after the fall of the three great possessions, gaul, spain, and africa, there was left only the central state, made impotent by long parasitism to meet the growing barbarian pressure. italy in the transition period can have yielded very little revenue, though rome had for the barbarians plenty of hoarded plunder; and the country had long ceased to yield good troops. gaul itself had been monstrously taxed; and it must have been no less a prudent than a benevolent motive that led julian to reduce to £ , , the revenue of £ , , extorted by constantine and constantius.[ ] the greater the depression in the sources of income, and the greater the costs of the frontier wars, the harder became the pressure of the fiscal system, till the burdens laid on the upper citizens who formed the curia[ ] put them out of all heart for patriotic action, and drove many to flight, to slavery, or the cloister. towards the end, indeed, there was set up a rapid process of economic change which substituted for slaves a class of serfs, _coloni_, _adscriptitii_, and so on, who though tied to the land paid a rent for it and could keep any surplus; but under this system agriculture was thus far no more a source of revenue than before. latterly the very wine of italy grew worthless, and its olives decayed;[ ] so that in once fruitful campania, "the orchard of the south," honorius in the year had to strike from the fiscal registers, as worthless, more than three hundred thousand acres of land[ ]--an eighth of the whole province. after the ruinous invasions of rhadagast and alaric, fresh remissions of taxation had to be given, so that as the danger neared the defence weakened.[ ] in the east, again, there was no impulse to succour the falling west; and indeed there was not the ability. the fiscal power of the emperor was inelastic; his revenues, extorted by cruel pressure, needed careful husbanding; his own world needed all his attention; and the eastern upper class of clerics and officials were not the people to strain themselves for the mere military retention of britain or gaul or italy, as rome would have done in the republican period, or as the emperors would have done before the period of decentralisation. for the rich agricultural provinces of africa they did strive with success when belisarius overthrew the vandals; and in that age, when italy had once more become revenue-yielding through the revival of her agriculture, it was worth the while of the east to reconquer italy also; but the old spirit of resolute dominion and aggression was gone. armies could still be enrolled and generalled if there was pay for them; but the pay failed, not because bullion was lacking, but because the will and power to supply and apply it in the old fashion was lacking. the new age, after theodosius, looked at these matters in a different light--the light of commercial self-interest and christian or eastern disregard for roman tradition and prestige. the new religion, christianity, was a direct solvent of imperial patriotism in the old sense, transferring as it did the concern of serious men from this world to the next, and from political theory to theological. in italy, besides, the priesthood could count on making rather more docile christians of the invaders than it had done of the previous inhabitants; so that christian rome, once overrun, must needs remain so. [finlay (ed. cited i, ) suggests that "probably the knowledge which the emperor justin and his cabinet must have possessed of the impossibility of deriving any revenue from the agricultural districts of italy offers the simplest explanation of the indifference manifested at constantinople to the lombard invasion." but he had already noted (p. , _note_) that a great revival of agriculture took place in the reign of theodoric. then it could only be through the exhaustion of the subsequent wars that italy was incapable of yielding a revenue. the true explanation of justin's inaction is probably not indifference but impotence, the empire's resources being then drained. after the invasion of the lombards the clergy and senate of rome had to send a large sum in bullion to induce the emperor maurice to listen to their prayers for help. still the help could not be given, though, save in the case of the coast towns (see below, p. ), tribute was paid to byzantium till the final breach between rome and leo the iconoclast. (gibbon, bohn ed. v, .) guizot (_histoire de la civilisation en france_, e éd. i, , ) notes the fundamental difference in the attitude of the church under the old and eastern emperors and under the teutonic rule. symonds (_renaissance in italy_, nd ed. i, ) thinks this was a result of theodoric's not having made rome his headquarters, and his having treated it with special respect. but the clergy of gaul at once gained an ascendency over the frankish kings, and the popes would probably have done as well with resident emperors as with absentees. their great resource was that of playing one christian monarch against another--a plan not open to the patriarch of constantinople.] that the empire could still at a push raise armies and find for them generals who could beat back the barbarians was sufficiently shown in the careers of stilicho and aetius and belisarius; but the extreme parsimony with which justinian supported his great commander in italy is some proof of the economic difficulty of keeping up, even in a period of prudent administration,[ ] a paid force along the vast frontiers of what had been hadrian's realm. only as ruled by one central system, inspired by an ideal of european empire, and using the finance and force of the whole for the defence of any part, could that realm have been preserved; and when diocletian, while holding mechanically by the ideal of empire, began the disintegration of its executive, he began the ending of the ideal. the creation of an eastern capital was now inevitable; and when once the halving of the empire had become a matter of course, the west, hollow at the core, was fated to fall. we should thus not be finally wrong in saying that "the roman idea" died out before the western empire could fall; provided only that we recognise the economic and other sociological causation of the process. it remains to note, finally, that the process cannot possibly be explained by the theory that the eastern empire was successfully unified by christianity, and that the western remained divided by reason of the obstinate adherence of the roman aristocracy to paganism. the framer of this theory confutes it by affirming that in greece "the popular element ... by its alliance with christianity, infused into society the energy which saved the eastern empire," while admitting that in italy also the "great body of the [city] population" had embraced christianity. surely the popular christian element ought to have saved italy also if it were the saving force. italy was essentially christian in the age of belisarius: if there was any special element of disunion it was the mutual hatred of arians and athanasians and other sects, which had abundantly existed also in the east, where it finally furthered the saracen conquest of the asiatic provinces and egypt,[ ] but as regarded the central part of the empire was periodically got rid of by the suppression of all heresy.[ ] eastern unification, such as it was, had thus been the work, not of "christianity," or of any sudden spirit of unity among the greeks, but of the imperial government, which in the east had sufficient command of, and needed for its own sake to use, the resources that we have seen lost to italy.[ ] as for the established religion, it was the insoluble conflict of doctrine as to images that finally, in the reign of leo the iconoclast, arrayed the papacy against the christian emperor, and completed the sunderance of greek and latin christendom; while in the east the patriarch of jerusalem became the minister of the moslem conquerors in the seventh century, as did the patriarch of constantinople in the fifteenth. footnotes: [footnote : the phrase of professor thorold rogers, whose application of the principle, however, does not carry us far.] [footnote : dr. cunningham overlooks this form of gain-getting by war, when he says that the early romans had no direct profit from it (_western civilisation_, i, ), but mentions it later (p. ). prof. ferrero likewise overlooks it when (eng. tr. i, ) he specifies "timber for shipbuilding and salt" as practically the whole of the exportable products of the early romans. once more, who consumed their cattle?] [footnote : cp. bury, _history of the later roman empire_, i, , following von ihering.] [footnote : macaulay, _lays of ancient rome_, pref. to _virginia_. cp. gibbon, bohn ed. v, - .] [footnote : cp. dureau de la malle, _Écon. polit. des romains_, vol. ii, liv. iv, ch. .] [footnote : cp. cicero, _de officiis_, i, .] [footnote : mommsen, b. i, ch. v. eng. tr. i, .] [footnote : pliny, _hist. nat._ xviii, ] [footnote : e. meyer (_geschichte des alterthums_, ii, ), alleges a common misconception as to the _ager publicus_ being made a subject of class strife; but does not make the matter at all clearer. cp. niebuhr, _lectures on the history of rome_, eng. tr. -vol. ed. pp. - , , .] [footnote : shuckburgh, _history of rome_, pp. , . cp. long, _decline of the roman republic_, ch. xii, and pelham, pp. - , as to the frauds of the rich in the matter of the public lands.] [footnote : w.t. arnold, _roman provincial administration_, , p. .] [footnote : finlay, _history of greece_, tozer's ed. i, .] [footnote : when julius cæsar abolished the public revenue from the lands of campania by dividing them among , colonists, the only italian revenue left was the small duty on the sale of slaves (cicero, _ep. ad atticum_, ii, ).] [footnote : _ep. ad atticum_, iv, ( ).] [footnote : cp. niebuhr, _lectures on roman history_, eng. tr. -vol. ed. pp. , ; gibbon, bohn ed. iii, ; v, - .] [footnote : _orat. pro m. fonteio_, v. cp. long, _in loc._ (_orationes_, , ii, ).] [footnote : dr. cunningham, preserving the conception of rome as an entity with choice and volition, inclines to see a necessary self-protection in most roman wars; yet his pages show clearly enough that the moneyed classes were the active power. he distinguishes (p. ) "public neglect" (of conquered peoples) from "public oppression." but the public neglect was simply a matter of the control of the exploiting class, who were the effective "public" for foreign affairs. compare his admissions as to their forcing of wars and their control of justice, pp. , .] [footnote : the fullest english account of the matter is given by long, _decline of the roman republic_, iv, - , following savigny. cp. plutarch's account of the doings of the _publicani_ in asia (_lucullus_, cc. , ). lucullus gave deadly offence at rome by his check on their extortions, as p. rutilius rufus had done before him (pelham, _outlines of roman history_, , pp. , ; ferrero, i, ). the lowest rate of interest charged by the _publicani_ seems to have been per cent. (niebuhr, _lectures_, -vol. ed. p. ). we shall find the same rates current in renaissance italy.] [footnote : cp. r. pöhlmann, _die uebervölkerung der antiken grossstädte_, , pp. - , - . prof. ferrero (_greatness and decline of rome_, eng. tr. i, - ; ii, - ) affirms a restoration of italian "prosperity" from b.c. onwards, by way first of a general cultivation of the vine and the olive by means of oriental slaves used to such culture, and later of slave manufactures in the towns. but the evidence falls far short of the proposition. the main items are that about b.c. italy began to export olive oil, and that certain towns later won repute for pottery, textiles, arms, and so on. on the new agriculture cp. dureau de la malle, i, - .] [footnote : w.w. carlile, _the evolution of modern money_, , pp. , .] [footnote : cp. m'culloch, _essays and treatises_, nd ed. pp. - , and refs.] [footnote : cp. hodgkin, _the dynasty of theodosius_, , pp. - . from severus onwards the silver coinage had in fact become "mere _billon_ money," mostly copper. carlile, as cited.] [footnote : on this cp. pöhlmann, _die uebervölkerung der antiken grossstädte_, p. , and engel, as there cited.] [footnote : as to the probable nature of this much-discussed law see long, _decline of the roman republic_, i, chs. xi and xii. cp. niebuhr, _lect._ .] [footnote : plutarch, _tiberius gracchus_, c. .] [footnote : as long remarks (i, ), it does not appear what tiberius gracchus proposed to do with the slaves when he had put freemen in their place. cp. cunningham, p. .] [footnote : cp. pelham, _outlines_, pp. - ; ferrero, ch. iii.] [footnote : robiou et delaunay, _les institutions de l'ancienne rome_, , iii, .] [footnote : cp. juvenal, iii, _sq._; _sq._] [footnote : for the history of the practice, see the article "frumentariae leges," in smith's _dictionary of antiquities_.] [footnote : the first step by gracchus does not seem to have been much resisted (merivale, _fall of the roman republic_, p. ; but cp. long, _decline of the roman republic_, i, ), such measures having been for various reasons resorted to at times in the past (pliny, _hist. nat._ xviii, ; livy, ii, ); but in the reaction which followed, the process was for a time restricted (merivale, p. ).] [footnote : it seems to have been he who, as consul, first caused the distribution to be made gratuitous. see cicero, _ad attic._ ii, , and _de domo sua_, cc. , . the clodian law, making the distribution gratuitous, was passed next year.] [footnote : suetonius, _julius_, c. .] [footnote : dio cassius, xliii, .] [footnote : it must have been the relative dearness of land transport that kept the price of corn so low in cisalpine gaul in the time of polybius, who describes a remarkable abundance (ii, ).] [footnote : suetonius, _aug._ cc. , .] [footnote : _hist. nat._ xviii, ( ).] [footnote : cp. his _economicus_, chs. , , , , etc.] [footnote : meyer, _gesch. des alterthums_, iii, (§ ).] [footnote : plutarch, _tiberius gracchus_, c. .] [footnote : _e.g._, in the provinces of africa (gibbon, bohn ed. iii, ) and sicily (pelham, _outlines_, p. ).] [footnote : cp. pliny, as last cited.] [footnote : the italians consumed large quantities of pork, mainly raised in the north (polybius ii, ; xii. fr. ). aurelian began a pork as well as a wine and oil ration for the romans (vopiscus, _aurelianus_, , ); and under valentinian iii the annual consumption in the city of rome was , , lbs., there being then a free distribution to the poor during five months of the year. gibbon calculates that it sold at less than d. per lb. (bohn ed. iii, - .)] [footnote : cp. spalding, _italy and the italian islands_, i, - , , ; merivale, _history_, c. ; ed. , iv, ; m'culloch, as cited, pp. - ; finlay, _history of greece_, i, ; gibbon, bohn ed. iii, ; dill, _roman society in the last years of the roman empire_, nd ed. p. and refs.; and blanqui, _histoire de l'économie politique_, e éd. i, , as to the progression of the policy of feeding the populace. cp. also suetonius, _in aug._ c. .] [footnote : there is, however, reason to surmise that the murder of pertinax was planned, not by the prætorians who did the deed, but by the official and moneyed class who detested his reforms. see them specified by gibbon, ch. iv, _end_.] [footnote : it is noteworthy that in the united states the new england region, producing neither coal nor iron, neither cotton nor (latterly) wheat, continues to retain a manufacturing primacy as against the south, in virtue of the (in part climatic) industry and skill of its population.] [footnote : mommsen, _history of rome_, eng. tr. large ed. v, (_provinces_, vol. i); gibbon, ch. iii, near end (bohn ed. i, ); cp. mahaffy, _the greek world under roman sway_, p. ; milman, _history of christianity_, bk. i, ch. vi; renan, _les apôtres_, ed. , p. ; and hegewisch, as cited by finlay (i, , _note_), who protests that the favourable view cannot be taken of the state of greece and egypt. mr. balfour (_decadence_, , p. ) chimes in with mommsen and the rest.] [footnote : cp. pelham, _outlines_, p. .] [footnote : gibbon, ch. xvii; bohn ed. ii, , and _notes_.] [footnote : symmachus speaks of a famine about the time of the confiscation of the temple revenues. ep. x, .] [footnote : valentinian had resumed those temple revenues which had been restored by julian, but went no further, though he vetoed the acquisition of legacies by his own church. that gratian's step was rather financial than fanatical is proved by his having at the same time endowed the pagan rhetors and grammarians as a small religious _quid pro quo_. beugnot, _hist. de la destr. du paganisme en occident_, , i, .] [footnote : there was a fresh relapse after theodoric, in the ruinous wars between justinian and the goths and franks. revival began in the north under the lombards, and was stimulated in the south after the revolt of gregory ii against leo the iconoclast, which made an end of the payment of italian tribute to byzantium. (gibbon, bohn ed. v, , , .)] [footnote : cp. dureau de la malle, _Écon. polit. des romains_, ii, _sq._] [footnote : _hist. nat._ iii, ix, .] [footnote : _id. ib._ .] [footnote : livy, vii, .] [footnote : mommsen, i, . mommsen does not deny the deterioration.] [footnote : sueton. _julius_, c. .] [footnote : _e.g._ jacob, _hist. inq. into the prod. and consump. of the precious metals_, , i, _sq._] [footnote : cp. pliny, _hist. nat._ xii, ( ).] [footnote : cp. del mar, _history of the precious metals_, , pref. p. vi; _money and civilisation_, , introd. p. ix.] [footnote : cp. polybius, cited by strabo, iii, ii, § ; jacob, _hist. of the precious metals_, i, .] [footnote : cp. dureau de la malle, _econ. pol. des romains_, ii, ; merivale, _history_, iv, .] [footnote : jacob, as cited, i, .] [footnote : gibbon, ch. xvii, bohn ed. ii, . cp. prof. bury's note in his ed., and dureau de la malle, _econ. polit. des romains_, i, _sq._] [footnote : on this form of oppression cp. guizot, _essais sur l'histoire de france_, i; his note on gibbon, bohn ed. ii, ; dill, _roman society in the last century of the western empire_, b. iii, ch. ; and cunningham, _western civilisation_, pp. , .] [footnote : spalding, _italy_, i, , following symmachus.] [footnote : gibbon, ch. xvii, bohn ed. ii, , citing _cod. theodos._ xi, , . cp. dill, pp. - .] [footnote : cp. dill, as cited, p. .] [footnote : anastasius in his reign of twenty-seven years had saved an enormous treasure, whence it is arguable that justinian's straits were due to bad management. but while he enlarged the expenditure, chiefly for military purposes, he also enlarged the revenue by very oppressive means, and practised some new economies. the fact remains that where anastasius could hoard with a non-imperialist policy, justinian, re-expanding the empire, could not. see gibbon, ch. , _passim_. non-military expenditure could not account for the final deficit in justinian's treasury. even the great church of san sofia does not seem to have cost above £ , , . _id._ bohn ed. iv, .] [footnote : "here [in egypt], as in palestine, as in syria, as in the country about the euphrates, the efforts of the persians could never have been attended with such immediate and easy success but for the disaffection of large masses of the population. this disaffection rested chiefly on the religious differences" (bury, _history of the later roman empire_, ii, ). compare gibbon, ch. , bohn ed. v, ; and mosheim, _eccles. hist._, cent, pt. ii, ch. ii, §§ , , (reid's ed. pp. - ). as to the welcoming of the saracens in egypt by the monophysites, see gibbon, ch. , bohn ed. vi, - . cp. sharpe, _hist. of egypt_, th ed. ii, ; milman, _latin christianity_, th ed. ii, ; finlay, i, - .] [footnote : _e.g._ the _tome_ of st. leo, the laws of marcian, the _henoticon of zeno_, and the laws of justinian; and the _ecthesis_ and _typus_ of heraclius and constans ii--all retailed by gibbon, ch. .] [footnote : finlay immediately afterwards (p. ) declares of the choice of byzantium by constantine as his capital that "its first effect was to preserve the unity of the eastern empire." the admission is repeated on p. , where the whole credit of the stand made by the east is given to the administration. cp. also the explanations as to italy on p. , and as to byzantium on p. . the theory of p. is utterly unsupported, and on p. it is practically repudiated once for all. cp. finally, pp. , , , , , , , , and pp. and . on p. we have the explicit admission that the hostility to the roman government throughout the east [in the sixth century] was everywhere connected with an opposition to the greek "clergy."] chapter ii greek economic evolution § in republican greece, as in republican rome, we have already seen the tendency to the accumulation of wealth in few hands, as proved by the strifes between rich and poor in most of the states. a world in which aristocrats were finally wont to take an oath to hate and injure the demos[ ] was on no very hopeful economic footing, whatever its glory in literature and art. nor did the most comprehensive mind of all the ancient world see in slavery anything but an institution to be defended against ethical attack as a naturally right arrangement.[ ] in view of all this, we may reasonably hold that even if there had been no macedonian dominance and no roman conquest, greek civilisation would not have gone on progressing indefinitely after the period which we now mark as its zenith--that the evil lot of the lower strata must in time have infected the upper. what we have here briefly to consider, however, is the actual economic course of affairs. for the purposes of such a generalisation, we may rank the greek communities under two classes: ( ) those whose incomes, down through the historic period, continued to come from land-owning, whether with slave or free labour, as sparta; and ( ) those which latterly flourished chiefly by commerce, whether with or without military domination, as athens and corinth. in both species alike, in all ages, though in different degrees as regards both time and place, there were steep divisions of lot between rich and poor, even among the free. nowhere, not even in early "lycurgean" sparta, was there any system aiming at the methodical prevention of large estates, or the prevention of poverty, though the primitive basis was one of military communism, and though certain sumptuary laws and a common discipline were long maintained. grote's examination (pt. ii, ch. vi; ed. cited, ii, - ) of thirlwall's hypothesis (ch. viii; st ed. i, , ) as to an equal division of lands by lycurgus, seems to prove that, as regards rich and poor, the legendary legislator "took no pains either to restrain the enrichment of the former or to prevent the impoverishment of the latter"--this even as regards born spartans. as to the early military communism of sparta and crete, see meyer, _geschichte des alterthums_, ii, § ; and as to the economic process see fustel de coulanges, _nouvelles recherches sur quelques problèmes d'histoire_, , pp. - . athens, on the other hand, was so situated as to become a place of industry and commerce; and from about the time of her great land-crisis, solved by solon, her industrial and commercial interests determined her economic development. it follows from the success of peisistratos that the mass of the people, blind to the importance of the political rights conferred upon them, were conscious of no such betterment from solon's "shaking-off-of-burdens" as could make them averse to the rule of a "tyrant" who even laid upon them a new tax. the solution may perhaps lie in points of fiscal policy to which we have now no clear clue. of solon it is recorded[ ] that he made a law against the export of any food produce of attica save oil--the yield of the olive. this implied that of that product only was there in his opinion a redundancy; and we have it from the same source that he "saw that the soil was so poor that it could only suffice for the farmers," and so "gave great honour to trade," and "made a law that a son was not obliged to support his father if his father had not taught him a trade."[ ] himself a travelled merchant, he further recognised that "merchants are unwilling to despatch cargoes to a country which has nothing to export"; and we are led to infer that he encouraged on the one hand the export of manufactures, _plus_ oil, and on the other the importation of corn and other food. in point of fact, grain was already being imported in increasing quantity from the recently colonised lands of sicily and the crimea;[ ] and if the imports were free or lightly taxed the inland cultivators would have a local grievance in the depression of the prices of their produce. the town and coast-dwellers, on the other hand, found their account in the carriage and development of manufactures--vases, weapons, objects of art--which, with the oil, and latterly the wine export, bought them their food from afar. athens could thus go on growing in a fashion impossible to an agricultural community on the same soil; and could so escape that fate of shrinkage in the free class which ultimately fell upon purely agricultural sparta. the upshot was that, after as before solon, athens had commercial interests among her pretexts for war, and so widened the sphere of her hostilities, escaping the worst forms of "stasis" in virtue of the expansibility of commerce and the openings for new colonisation which commerce provided and widened. but colonisation there had to be. precisely by reason of her progressiveness, her openness to the alien, her trade and her enterprise, attica increased in population at a rate which enforced emigration, while the lot of the rural population did not economically improve, and the probable change from corn-growing to olive-culture[ ] would lessen the number of people employed on the land. even apart from the fact of the popular discontent which welcomed the _tyrannis_ of peisistratos, we cannot doubt that solon's plans had soon failed to exclude the old phenomena of poverty. the very encouragement he gave to artisans to immigrate,[ ] while it made for the democratic development and naval strength of athens, was a means of quickening the approach of a new economic crisis. and yet he seems to have recognised the crux of population. the traditional permission given by the sage to parents to expose infants, implicitly avows the insoluble problem--the "cursed fraction" in the equation, which will not disappear; and in the years of the approach of peisistratos to power we find athens sending to salamis (about ) its first _kleruchie_, or civic colony-settlement on subject territory--this by way of providing for landless and needy citizens.[ ] it was the easiest compromise; and nothing beyond compromise was dreamt of. [the statement that solon by law permitted the exposure of infants is made by malthus, who gives no authority, but is followed by lecky. the law in question is not mentioned by plutarch, and i do not find it noticed by any of the historians. it is stated, however, by sextus empiricus (_hypotyp_. iii, ) that solon made a law by which a parent could put his child to death; and this passage, which is cited by hume in his _essay on the populousness of ancient nations_, is doubtless malthus's authority. nothing nearer to the purpose is cited by meursius in his monograph on solon; but this could very well stand as a permission of infanticide, especially seeing that the practice is presumptively prehistoric. petit writes: "quemadmodum liberos tollere in patris erat positum potestate, ita etiam necare et exponere, idque, meo judicio, non tam moribus quam lege receptum fuit athenis" (_leges atticæ_, fol. , ed. wesseling, ). grote (ii, , _note_) pronounces that the statement of sextus "cannot be true, and must be copied from some untrustworthy authority," seeing that dionysius the halicarnassian (ii, ) contrasts the large scope of the _patria potestas_ among the romans with the restrictions which all the greek legislators, solon included, either found or introduced. dr. mahaffy (_social life in greece_, rd ed. p. ) believes "the notion of exposing infants from _economical_ motives not to have prevailed till later times" than the seventh century b.c., but he gives no reason for fixing any date. we may take it as certain that while the laws of lycurgus, like the roman twelve tables, enjoined or permitted the destruction of sickly or deformed infants, the general greek usage allowed exposure. the express prohibition of it at thebes (Ælian, _var. hist._ ii, ) implies its previous normality there and elsewhere (cp. however, aristotle, _pol._ vii, ); and the _sale_ of children by their (free) parents was further permitted, except in attica (ingram, _history of slavery_, p. ); while even there a freeman's children by a slave concubine were slaves.] on the other hand, the laws even of sparta, framed with a view to the military strength of the state considered as the small free population, were ultimately evaded in the interests of property-holding, till the number of "pure spartans" dwindled to a handful.[ ] under a system of primogeniture, with a rigid severance between the upper class and the lower, there could in fact be no other outcome. here, apart from the revolts of the helots and the chronic massacres of these by their lords, which put such a stamp of atrocity on spartan history,[ ] the stress of class strife seems to have been limited among the aristocracy, not only by systematic infanticide, but by the survival of polyandry, several brothers often having one wife in common.[ ] whether owing to infanticide, or to in-breeding, or to preventives, families of three and four were uncommon and considered large, and special privileges offered to the fathers.[ ] as always, such devices failed against the pressures of the main social conditions. all the while, of course, the _perioikoi_ and the enslaved helots multiplied freely; hence the policy of specially thinning down the latter by over-toil[ ] as well as massacre. in other states, where the polity was more civilised, many observers perceived that the two essential conditions of stability were (_a_) absolute or approximate equality of property, and (_b_) restraint of population, the latter principle being a notable reaction of reason against the normal practice of encouraging or compelling marriage.[ ] aristotle said in so many words that to let procreation go unchecked "is to bring certain poverty on the citizens; and poverty is the cause of sedition and evil";[ ] and he cites previous publicists who had sought to solve the problem. socrates and plato had partly contemplated it; and the idealist, as usual, had proposed the more brutal methods;[ ] but aristotle, seeing more clearly the population difficulty, perhaps on that account is the less disposed towards communism. as medical knowledge advanced, it seems certain, the practice of abortion must have been generally added to that of infanticide in greece, as later in rome. see aristotle, _politics_, vii, ; plutarch, _lycurgus_, c. ; and plato, _theætetus_, p. (jowett's trans. iv, ), as to the normal resort to abortion. the greeks must have communicated to the romans the knowledge of the arts of abortion, as they did those of medicine generally. but it does not appear that with all these checks population really fell off in greece until after the time of alexander. before that time it may very well have fallen off in athens when she lost her position as sovereign and tribute-drawing state. the tribute would tend to maintain a population in excess of the natural amount. dr. mahaffy (_rambles and studies in greece_, th ed. p. --a passage not squared with the data in _greek life and thought_, pp. , ) accepts the old view of a general and inexplicable depopulation. one of the _loci classici_ on that head, in the treatise _on the cessation of oracles_ (viii) attributed to plutarch but probably not by him, is searchingly examined by hume at the close of his essay _of the populousness of ancient nations_, and the critic comes to the conclusion that the extreme decay there asserted cannot have taken place. he was in all probability right in arguing that the number of slaves in attica had been enormously exaggerated in the figures of athenæus (cp. cunningham, _western civilisation_, i, , note). there is reason to conclude, however, that hume was unduly incredulous on some points. strabo (refs. in thirlwall, viii, ) had found an immense decay of population in greece more than a century before plutarch; and his details prove a process of shrinkage which must have lasted long. in any case, a relative depopulation took place after the conquests of alexander, from the operation of socio-economic causes, which are indicated by finlay (_history of greece_, tozer's ed. i, ; cp. mahaffy, _greek life and thought_, p. , and _the greek world under roman sway_, , p. ). broadly speaking, the greeks went to lands where wealth was more easily acquired than in their own. further depopulation took place under the romans, partly from direct violence and deportation, partly from fiscal pressure, partly from the economic causes already noted. thirlwall, in his closing survey, proceeding on polybius,[ ] confidently decides that the main cause of depopulation was domestic and moral. such a theory cannot be sustained. polybius evidently had no clear idea of the facts, since he asserts that "in our time" and "rapidly" there took place in greece a "failure of offspring" (or "dearth of children"), which left cities desolate and land waste; and goes on to ascribe it to habits of luxury, which either kept men from marrying or made them refuse to rear more than a few of their children. the whole theorem is haphazard. cities and lands could not have been so depopulated.[ ] there must have been, in addition to slaughter, a drain of population to lands where the conditions were more advantageous. nor is there any good reason for believing that child-exposure had suddenly and immensely increased. thirlwall says that marriages were "unfruitful"; but this is not the statement of polybius. it is true that pæderasty would count for much in lowering character; but it had been common in greece centuries before the time of polybius, and had not affected fecundity. as we have seen,[ ] fecundity fell in sparta for other reasons. as between sparta and athens, the main difference was that athenian life was for a long period more or less expansive, while that of sparta, even in the period of special vigour, was steadily contractive, as regarded quantity and quality of "good life." at sparta, as above noted, the normal play of self-interest in the governing class brought about a continuous shrinkage in the number of enfranchised citizens and of those holding land, till there were only of the former and of the latter--this when there were still , adult spartans of "pure" descent, and , laconians capable of military service. even of the hundred landowners many were women, the estates having thus evidently aggregated by descent through heiresses.[ ] it mattered little that this inner ring of rich became, after the triumph over athens and in the post-alexandrian period, as luxurious as the rest of greece:[ ] the evil lay not in the mode of their expenditure, but in the mode of their revenue. agis iv and his successor cleomenes thought to put the community on a sound footing by abolition of debts and forcible division of the land; but even had agis triumphed at home or cleomenes maintained himself abroad, the expedient could have availed only for a time. accumulation would instantly recommence in the absence of a scientific and permanent system. schemes for promoting equality had been mooted in greece from an early period (see aristotle, _politics_, ii, , , ). thus, "pheidon the corinthian, one of the oldest of legislators, thought that the families and number of citizens ought to continue the same." phaleas of chalcedon proposed to keep fortunes and culture equal; and hippodamus the milesian had a system of equality for a state of , persons. some states, too, put restraints on the accumulation of land. but, save for transient successes, such as that of solon at athens, and of the compromise at tarentum (see aristotle, v, ; and müller, _dorians_, eng. tr. ii, - ), there was no adequate adjustment of means to ends, as indeed there could not be. aristotle's own practical suggestions show the hopelessness of the problem. in the commercial cities, where industry was encouraged and wealth tended to take the form of invested capital, it could not readily get into so few hands; and as commerce developed and the investments were more and more in that direction, there would arise an idle rich class which could be best got at by way of taxation. in such communities, though the division and hostility of rich and poor were as unalterable as in sparta, there was more elasticity of adjustment; so that we see maritime and trading communities like heracleia and rhodes maintaining their oligarchic government, with vicissitudes, down into the roman period,[ ] somewhat as venice in a later age outlasted the other chief republics of italy. the ruin of corinth, though indirectly promoted by class strifes,[ ] need not have occurred but for the roman overthrow.[ ] as regards athens, it is necessary to guard against some misconceptions concerning the life conditions even of the periclean period. public buildings apart, it was not a rich or rich-looking city; on the contrary, partly by reason of the force of democratic sentiment, its houses were mostly mean, the well-to-do people presumably having their better houses in the country, where the land was now mostly owned by them. after the destruction of the city by xerxes ( b.c.), the first need was felt to be its refortification on a larger scale, even sepulchres as well as the remains of private houses being made to yield materials for the walls.[ ] at the same time the piræus and munychia were walled on a still greater scale--the whole constituting a public work of extraordinary scope, rapidly carried through by the co-operation of the whole of the citizens. the further gradual rebuilding of the city, as well as the fresh flocking of the foreign trading population to the now safe piræus, would help, with the public works of pericles, to set up the conditions of general prosperity which prevailed before the peloponnesian war.[ ] according to demosthenes, the public men of the generation of salamis had houses indistinguishable from those of ordinary people, whereas in the orator's own day the statesmen had houses actually finer than the public buildings.[ ] this would be the natural result of the control of the confederate treasure resulting from the athenian supremacy. but dicæarchus belongs to the same period, and his account represents the mass of the city as poor in appearance, the houses small and with projecting stairways, and the streets crooked.[ ] we know further from xenophon that there were many empty spaces, some of them doubtless made by the customary destruction of the houses of those ostracised. there was thus a considerable approach to a rather straitened equality among the mass of the town-dwelling free citizens, who, despite the meanness of their houses, had luxuries in the form of the public baths and gymnasia. before salamis, again, the revenue drawn from the leases of the silver mines of laurium had been equally divided among the enfranchised citizens--an arrangement which had yielded only a small sum to each, but which represented a notable adumbration of a communal system, with the fatal implication of a basis in slavery.[ ] the devotion of this fund[ ] to the building of a navy was the making of the athenian maritime power; whence in turn came the ability of athens to extort tribute from the allied states, and therewith to achieve relatively the greatest and most effective expenditure on public works[ ] ever attempted by any government. it was this specially created demand for and endowment of the arts and the drama that raised athens to the artistic and literary supremacy of the ancient world, and, by so creating a special intellectual soil, prepared the ensuing supremacy of athenian philosophy.[ ] but the periclean policy of endowment went far beyond even the employment of labour by the state on the largest scale; it set up the principle of supplying something like an income to multitudes of poorer free citizens--an experiment unique in history. the main features of the system were: ( ) payments for service to the members of the council of five hundred; ( ) payments to all jurors, an order numbering some six thousand; ( ) the _theorikon_ or allowance of theatre money to all the poorer citizens; ( ) regular payments to the soldiers and sailors; ( ) largesses of corn, or sales at reduced prices; ( ) sacrificial banquets, shared in by the common people; ( ) the sending out of "kleruchies," or bodies of quasi-colonists, who were billeted on the confederate cities, to the number of five or six thousand in ten years. without taking the _a priori_ hostile view of the aristocratic faction, who bitterly opposed all this--a view endorsed later by plato and socrates--the common-sense politician must note the utter insecurity of the whole development, depending as it did absolutely on military predominance.[ ] the mere cessation of the expenditure on public works at the fall of athens in the peloponnesian war was bound to affect class relations seriously; and parties, already bitter, were henceforth more decisively so divided.[ ] in the second period of athenian ascendency, after the fall of the thirty tyrants and of sparta, when the virtual pensioning of citizens begun by pericles had been carried to still further lengths,[ ] we find xenophon, the typical greek of culture and military experience, proposing a financial plan[ ] whereby athens, instead of keeping up the renewed practice of oppressing the confederate cities in order to pay pensions to its own poorer citizens, should derive a sufficient revenue from other sources. in particular he proposed ( ) the encouraging of foreigners to settle in the city in larger numbers, by exempting them from military service and from all forms of public stigma, and by giving them the waste grounds to build on. the taxes they would have to pay as aliens would serve as revenue to maintain the citizens proper. ( ) a fund should be established for the encouragement of trade which in some unexplained way should yield a high interest, paid by the state, to all investors. ( ) the state should build inns, shops, warehouses, and exchanges, chiefly for the use of the foreigners, and so further increase its revenue. ( ) it should build ships for the merchant trade, and charter them out upon good security. ( ) above all, it should develop by slave labour the silver mines of laurium, to the yield of which there was no limit. the public, in fact, might there employ thrice as many slaves as the number of citizens; and it should further set about finding new mines. we have here the measure of the athenian faculty to solve the democratic problem as then recognised. the polity of pericles was bound to perish, alike because it negated international ethics and because it had no true economic basis. the comparatively well-meaning plan of xenophon could not even be set in motion, so purely fanciful is its structure. the income of the poorer citizens is to come from the taxes and rents paid by foreigners, and from mines worked by slave labour; the necessary army of slaves has to be bought as a state investment. it is as if the boers of the transvaal had proposed to live idly in perpetuity on the dues paid by the immigrants, all the while owning all the mines and drawing all the profits. it is hardly necessary to say, with boeckh,[ ] that the thesis as to the yield of the mines was a pure delusion; and that the idea of living on the taxation of foreigners was suicidal.[ ] the old method, supplemented perforce by some regular taxation of the taxable citizens, and by the special exaction of "liturgies" or payments for the religious festival drama and other public services from the rich, was maintained as long as might be; industry tending gradually to decay, though the carrying trade and the resumed concourse of foreigners for a time kept athens a leading city. never very rich agriculturally, the middle and upper classes had for the rest only their manufactures and their commerce as sources of income; and as the manufactures were mostly carried on by slave labour, and were largely dependent on the state's control of the confederate treasure, the case of the poorer free citizens must necessarily worsen when that control ceased. about b.c. the athenians had still a virtual monopoly of the corn trade of bosporus, on which basis they could develop an extensive shipping, which was a source of many incomes; but even these would necessarily be affected by the new regimen which began with the macedonian conquest. the attempt of boeckh (bk. i, ch. viii) to confute the ordinary view as to the poverty of the attic soil cannot be maintained. (see above, p. .) niebuhr (_lectures on roman history_, eng. tr. rd ed. p. ) doubtless goes to the other extreme in calling the greeks bad husbandmen. compare the contrary view of cox, _general history_, nd ed. p. . but even good husbandry on a poor soil could not compete with the output of bosporus and egypt. and in the peloponnesian war attic agriculture sank to a low level (curtius' _history_, eng. tr. iv, ; bk. v, ch. ii). as to the incomes made in the bosporus corn-trade, cp. grote, x, , , . when it became possible thus to draw a revenue from investment, the athenian publicists rapidly developed the capitalist view that the lending of money capital is the support of trade. see demosthenes, as cited by boeckh, bk. i, ch. ix. § in the economic readjustments, finally, which followed on the rise and subdivision of the empire of alexander, greece as a whole took a secondary place in the hellenistic world, though macedonia kept much of its newly acquired wealth. while commerce passed with industry and population to the new eastern cities, the remaining wealth of greece proper would tend to pass into fewer hands,[ ] thus _pro tanto_ narrowing more than ever the free and cultured class, and relatively enlarging that of the slaves. [boeckh (bk. i, ch. viii) dwells on the variety of manufactures, and here gives a juster view than does dr. mahaffy, who (_social life in greece_, rd ed. p. ) oddly speaks of the lack of machinery as making "any large employment of hands in manufacture impossible." but the main manufacture, that of arms, was peculiarly dependent on the athenian command of the confederate treasure; and it does not appear that the other manufactures were a source of much revenue till just before the period of political decline, when other causes combined to check athenian trade. by that time the aristocratic class had weakened in their old prejudice against all forms of commerce (mahaffy, as cited; boeckh, as cited), which had hitherto kept it largely in the hands of aliens, this long after the time when, at corinth and other ports, the ruling class had been constituted of the rich traders; and after the special efforts of solon to encourage and enforce industry. apart from this prejudice, which in many states put a political disability on traders, commerce had always been hampered by war and bad policy. dr. mahaffy (_social life_, p. ) somewhat over-confidently follows heeren and boeckh in deciding that none of the greek trade laws were in the interests of particular trades or traders; but even if they were not, they none the less hampered all commerce. cp. boeckh, bk. i, ch. ix. as hume observed, the high rates of profit and interest prevailing in greece show an early stage of commerce. cp. boeckh, bk. i, chs. ix, xxii.] those who had not shared in the plunder of asia, to begin with, would find themselves badly impoverished, for the new influx of bullion would raise all prices. it is notable, on the other hand, that philosophy, formerly the study of men with, for the most part, good incomes, and thence always associated more or less with the spirit of aristocracy,[ ] was now often cultivated by men of humble status.[ ] the new rich then appear to have already fallen away somewhat from the old athenian standards; while the attraction of poorer men was presumably caused in part by the process of endowment of the philosophic schools begun by plato in his will--an example soon followed by others.[ ] it is probable that as much weight is due to this economic cause as to that of political restraint in the explanation of the prosperity of philosophy at athens at a time when literature was relatively decaying. the roman conquest, again, further depressed greek fortunes by absolute violence, hurling whole armies of the conquered into slavery,[ ] and later setting up a new foreign attraction to the greeks of ready wit and small means. they presumably began to flock to rome or egypt or asia minor as the conditions in greece worsened; and that process in turn would be promoted by the gradual worsening of the roman financial pressure. it is notable that a rebellion of attic slaves occurred in b.c., synchronously with the first slave-rising in sicily--a proof of fresh oppression all round.[ ] the romans had retained the greek systems of municipal government, and had begun by putting on light taxes.[ ] but these surely increased;[ ] and the mithridatic war, in which athens had taken the anti-roman side, changed all for the worse. sulla took the city after a difficult siege, massacred most of the citizens, and entirely destroyed the piræus; whereafter athens practically ceased for centuries to be a commercial centre. corinth, which had been razed to the ground by mummius, was ultimately reconstructed by cæsar as a roman colony, and secured most of what commerce greece retained. twenty years before, pompey had put down the cilician pirates, a powerful community of organised freebooters that had arisen out of the disbanding of the hired forces of mithridates and other eastern monarchs on the triumph of the romans, and was further swelled by a large inflow of poverty-stricken greeks. while it lasted, it greatly multiplied the number of slaves for the roman market by simple kidnapping. [the great mart for such sales was delos, which was practically a roman emporium (strabo, bk. xiv, c. v, § ). mahaffy (_greek world under roman sway_, p. ) regards the pirates as largely anti-roman, especially in respect of their sacking of delos. but previously they sold their captives there; and dr. mahaffy (p. ) recognises the connection. the pirates, in short, became anti-roman when the romans, who had so long tolerated them as slave-traders (as the rulers of cyprus and egypt had done before), were driven to keep them in check as pirates.] thus all the conditions deteriorated together; and the suppression of the pirate state found greece substantially demoralised, the prey of greedy proconsuls, poor in men, rich only in ancient art and in wistful memories. in the civil wars before and after cæsar's fall, greece was harried by both sides in turn; and down to the time of augustus depopulation and impoverishment seem to have steadily proceeded under roman rule.[ ] every special contribution laid on the provinces by the rulers was made an engine of confiscation; citizens unable to pay their taxes were sold as slaves; property owners were forced to borrow at usurious rates in the old roman fashion; and the parasitic class of so-called roman citizens, as such free of taxation, tended to absorb the remaining wealth.[ ] this wealth in turn tended to take the shape of luxuries bought from the really productive provinces; and the fatality of the unproductive communities, lack of the bullion which they in a double degree required, for the time overtook greece very much as it overtook italy. both must have presented a spectacle of exterior splendour as regarded their monuments and public buildings, and as regarded the luxury that was always tending to concentrate in fewer hands, usurers plundering citizens and proconsuls plundering usurers; but the lot of the mass of the people must have been depressed to the verge of endurance if depopulation had not spontaneously yielded relief. as it was, the greek populations would tend to consist more and more of the capitalistic, official, and parasitic classes on the one hand, and of slaves and poor on the other.[ ] the general depopulation of subject greece is thus perfectly intelligible. the "race" had not lost reproductive power; and even its newer artificial methods of checking numbers were not immeasurably more active than simple infanticide or exposure had been in the palmy days. in the ages of expansion the whole hellenic world in nearly all its cities and all its islands swarmed with a relatively energetic population, who won from conditions often in large part unpropitious a sufficiency of subsistence on which to build by the hands of slaves a wonderful world of art. to these conditions they were limited by racial hostilities; everywhere there was substantial though convulsive equipoise among their own warring forces, and between those of their frontier communities and the surrounding "barbarians." the conquest of alexander (heralded and invited by the campaign of the ten thousand) at one blow broke up this equipoise: organised greek capacity, once forcibly unified, triumphed over the now lower civilisations of egypt and the east, and greek population at once began to find its economic level in the easier conditions of some of the conquered lands. they flocked to egypt and elsewhere in the mediterranean basin as they do at the present time, for similar economic reasons. nothing could now restore the old conditions; but the roman conquest and tyranny forced on the disintegration till greece proper was but the glorious shell of the life of the past, inhabited by handfuls of a semi-alien population, grown in a sense psychically degenerate under evil psychic conditions. in the lower strata of this population began the spread of christianity, passing sporadically from syria to the greek cities, as at the same time to egypt and rome. a new conception of life was generated on the plane that typified it. § it is a great testimony to the value of sheer peace that in the roman empire of the second century, with an incurable economic malady, as it were, eating into its nerve centres, and with no better provision for the higher life than the schools of rhetoric and the endowments of the greek philosophic chairs, there was yet evolved a system of law and administration which, even under the frightful chances of imperial succession, sustained for centuries a vast empire, and imposed itself as a model on the very barbarism that overthrew it. and it is this system which connects for us the life conditions of greece as the romans held it, with its artistic shell almost intact despite all the roman plunder,[ ] and those of the strangely un-hellenic greek-speaking world which we know as byzantium, with its capital at constantinople. the economic changes in this period can be traced only with difficulty and uncertainty; but they must have been important. the multiplication of slaves, which was a feature of the ages of the post-alexandrian empires, the roman conquest, and the cilician pirate state, would necessarily be checked at a certain stage, both in town and country, by the continued shrinkage of the rich class. agriculture in greece, as in italy, could not compete with that of egypt; and slave-farming, save in special cultures, would not be worth carrying on. in the towns, again, the manufactures carried on by means of slaves had also dwindled greatly; and the small wealthy class could not and would not maintain more than a certain number of slaves for household purposes. the records of the religious associations, too, as we shall see, seem to prove that men who were slaves in status had practical freedom of life, and the power of disposing of part of their earnings; whence it may be inferred that many owners virtually liberated their slaves, though retaining a legal claim over them. in this state of things population would gradually recover ground, albeit on a low plane. the type of poor semi-greek now produced would live at a lower standard of comfort than had latterly been set for themselves by the more educated, who would largely drift elsewhere; and a home-staying population living mainly on olives and fish could relatively flourish, both in town and country. on that basis, in turn, commerce could to some extent revive, especially when nero granted to the greeks immunity from taxation.[ ] we are prepared then, in the second century, under propitious rulers like hadrian and the antonines, to find greek life materially improved.[ ] the expenditure of hadrian on public works, and the new endowments of the philosophic schools at athens by the antonines, would stimulate such a revival; and the greek cities would further regain ground as italy lost it, with the growth of cosmopolitanism throughout the empire. while domestic slavery would still abound, the industries in athens under the imperial rule would tend to be carried on by freedmen. a further stimulus would come from the overthrow of the parthian empire of the arsacidæ by artaxerxes, a.c. the arsacidæ, though often at war with the romans, still represented the hellenistic civilisation, whereas the sassanidæ zealously returned to the ancient persian religion, the exclusiveness of which would serve as a barrier to western commerce,[ ] even while the cult of mithra, hellenised to the extent of being specially associated with image-worship, was spreading widely in the west. commerce would now tend afresh to concentrate in greece, the indian and chinese trade passing north and south of persia.[ ] the removal of the seat of government from rome by diocletian, greatly lessening the italian drain on the provinces, would still further assist the greek revival after the gothic invasion had come and gone. thus we find the larger greek world in the time of constantine grown once more so important that in the struggle between him and licinius his great naval armament, composed chiefly of european greeks, was massed in the restored piræus. the fleet of licinius, made up chiefly by asiatic and egyptian greeks, already showed a relative decline on that side of the empire's resources.[ ] when, finally, constantine established the new seat of empire at byzantium, he tended to draw thither all the streams of greek commerce, and to establish there, as the centre of the revenues of the eastern empire, some such population as had once flourished in rome; with, however, a definite tendency to commerce and industry in the lower class population as well as in the middle class. to the government of this population was brought the highly developed organisation of the later pagan empire, joined with an ecclesiastical system from which heresy was periodically eliminated by the imperial policy, aided by the positive intellectual inferiority of the new greek-speaking species. there was prosperity enough for material life; and the political and religious system was such as to prevent the normal result of prosperity, culture, from developing independently. the much-divided greek world had at last, after countless convulsions, been brought to a possibility of quasi-inert equilibrium, an equilibrium which enabled it to sustain and repel repeated and destructive irruptions of northern barbarism,[ ] and on the whole to hold at bay, with a shrunken territory, its neighbouring enemies for a thousand years. § we have passed, then, through a twilight age, to find a new civilised empire ruled on the lines of the old, but with a single, albeit much-divided religion, and that the christian, all others having been extirpated not by persuasion but by governmental force, after the new creed, adapting itself to its economic conditions, had secured for itself and its poor adherents, mainly from superstitious rich women, an amount of endowment such as no cult or priesthood possessed in the days of democracy. this process of endowment itself originated, however, in pagan practice; for in the days of substitution of emotional eastern cults for the simpler worships of early hellas, there had grown up a multitude of voluntary societies for special semi-religious, semi-festival purposes--_thiasoi_, _eranoi_, and _orgeones_, all cultivating certain alien sacrifices and mysteries, as those of dionysos, adonis, sabazios, sarapis, cotytto, or any other god called "saviour."[ ] these societies, unlike the older hellenic associations of the same names[ ] for the promotion of native worships, were freely open to women, to foreigners, and even to slaves;[ ] they were absolutely self-governing; the members subscribed according to their means; and we find them flourishing in large numbers in the age of the antonines,[ ] when the old state cults were already deserted, though still endowed. they represent, as has been said, the reappearance of the democratic spirit and the gregarious instinct in new fields and in lower strata when general and practical democracy has been suppressed. in some such fashion did the christian church begin, employing the attractions and the machinery of many rival cults. its final selection and establishment by the empire represented in things religious a process analogous to that which had forcibly unified the competing republics of greece in one inflexible and unprogressive organisation. nothing but governmental force could have imposed doctrinal unity on the chaos of sects into which christianity was naturally subdividing; but the power of conferring on the state church special revenues was an effective means of keeping it practically subordinate. the historian who has laid down the proposition that religious unity was the cause of the survival of the eastern empire when the western fell,[ ] has made the countervailing admission that between justinian and heraclius there was an almost universal centrifugal tendency in the byzantine state, which was finally overcome only by "the inexorable principle of roman centralisation,"[ ] at a time when it was nearly destroyed by its enemies and its own dissentient forces.[ ] province after province had been taken by the persians in the east; slavs and avars were driving back the population from the northern frontiers, even harrying the peloponnesus; discontent enabled phocas to dethrone and execute maurice ( a.c.); and phocas in turn was utterly defeated by the persian foe; when heraclius appeared, to check the continuity of disaster, and to place the now circumscribed empire on a footing of possible permanence. but it is important to realise how far the economic and external conditions conduced to his success, such as it was. hitherto the populace of constantinople had been supported, like that of imperial rome, by regular allowances of bread to every householder, provided from the tributary grain supplies of egypt. the persian conquest of egypt in the year stopped that revenue; and the emperor's inability to feed the huge semi-idle populace became a cause of regeneration, inasmuch as the state was forcibly relieved of the burden, and many of the idlers became available for the army about to be led by the emperor against the menacing persians. he was reduced, however, to the expedient of offering to continue the supply on a payment of three pieces of gold from each claimant, and finally to breaking that contract; whereafter, on his proposing to transfer his capital to carthage to escape the discontent, the populace and the clergy implored him to remain, and thus enabled him to exact a large loan from the latter,[ ] and to dominate the nobility who had hitherto hampered his action. the victories of heraclius over the persians, however, only left the eastern and egyptian provinces to fall under the arabs; the first financial result of his successes having been to tax to exasperation the recovered lands in order to repay the ecclesiastical loan with usury; and the circumscribed empire under his successors could not, even if the emperors wished, resume the feeding of the mass of the citizens. constantinople, though still drawing some tribute from the remaining provinces in italy, was thus perforce reduced to a safe economic basis, even as the people in general had been coerced into united effort by the imminent danger from persia. from this time forward, with many vicissitudes of military fortune, the contracted byzantine state endured in virtue of its industrial and commercial basis and its consequent maritime and military strength, managed with ancient military science against enemies less skilled. the new invention of "greek fire," like all advances in the use of missiles in warfare, counted for much; but the decisive condition of success was the possession of continuous resources. justinian, among many measures of mere oppression and restriction, had contrived to introduce from the far east the silk manufacture, which for the ancient and medieval european world was of enormous mercantile importance. such a staple, and the virtual control of the whole commerce between northern and western europe and the east, kept byzantium the greatest trading power in christendom until the triumph of the italian republics. even the saracen conquests in asia and africa did not seriously affect this source of strength; for the saracen administration, though often wise and energetic, was in egypt too often convulsed by civil wars to permit of trade flourishing there in any superlative degree. the byzantines continued to trade with india by the black sea and central asian route; and their monopolies and imposts, however grievous, were relatively bearable compared with the afflictions of commerce under other powers. as of old, the greeks or greek-speaking folk were the traders of the mediterranean, the saracen navy never reaching sufficient power to check them; and when finally its remnants took to piracy, they served rather to cut off all weaker competition than to affect the preponderating naval power of the empire. in this period of prevailing commercial vigour, from the sixth to the eleventh century, the life of the greek empire was substantially civic, the rural districts remaining desolate, and agriculture extremely feeble,[ ] though the sclavonian immigrants who now inhabited the peloponnesus[ ] must have lived by that means. under such circumstances the towns would be fed by imported grain, presumably that of the crimea; but as they did not grow in size, at least in the case of the capital, their industrial prosperity must have largely depended on the restriction of population, whether by vice, preventive checks, misery, or the sheer unhealthiness of city life, which at the present day prevents so many eastern cities from maintaining themselves save by influx from the country.[ ] it is misleading to point to the legal veto on infanticide as a great christian reform without taking these things into account. the presumption is that misery, vice, child-exposure, and abortion, rather than prudence, kept the poor population within the limits of subsistence. mr. oman (_byzantine empire_, p. ) takes the popular view as to the reformative effect of christianity. he goes on to describe constantine as providing for the children of the destitute to prevent their exposure, but does not mention that the same thing had been done under the antonines, and that constantine permitted the finder of an exposed child to enslave it. the punishment of all exposure as infanticide, under valentinian, was only an adoption of the pagan practice at thebes (Ælian, _var. hist._ ii, ). but in spite of all enactments, under christian as under pagan rule, exposure and positive infanticide continued, though christian sentiment never gave it the toleration exhibited in the drama of menander. as to the historic facts, cp. lecky, _hist. of european morals_, th ed. ii, - . broadly speaking, it was inevitable that in such a population as is pictured for us by chrysostom--a multitude profoundly ignorant, superstitious, excitable, sensuous--all the vices of the græco-roman period should habitually flourish, while poverty must have been normally acute after the stoppage of regular free bread. on the general moral environment, cp. the author's _short history of freethought_, nd ed. i, - . it is necessary, in the same way, to substitute an accurate for a conventional view as to the treatment of slaves under the christian empire. we are still told[ ] that the christian doctrine or implication of religious equality had the effect first of greatly modifying the evils of slavery and finally of abolishing it. research proves that the facts were otherwise. we have already seen how economic causes partially limited slavery before christianity was heard of; and in so far as the limitation was maintained,[ ] the efficient causes remain demonstrably economic.[ ] indeed, no other causes can be shown to have existed. not only is slavery endorsed in the gospels,[ ] and treated by paul as not merely compatible with but favourable to christian freedom on the part of the slave,[ ] but the early christians, commonly supposed to have been the most incorrupt, held slaves as a matter of course.[ ] in the laws of justinian not a word is said as to slavery being opposed to either the spirit or the letter of christianity; and the only expressions that in any degree deprecate it are in terms of the stoic doctrine of the "law of nature,"[ ] which we know to have been already current in the time of aristotle,[ ] and to have become widespread in the age of the antonines, under stoic auspices. that "law of nature," however, was never allowed to override a definite law of society; and the christian influence on the other hand set up a new set of arguments for slavery.[ ] among the christian visigoths, slaves who married without authority from their masters were forcibly separated; and the slave who dared to marry a free-woman was burnt alive with his wife; while "the bishops were among the largest slave-holders in the realm; and baptised christians were bought and sold without a blush by the successors of st. paul and santiago."[ ] it cannot even be said of the byzantines, any more than of the protestants of the southern united states of fifty years ago, that they were more humane to their slaves than the earlier pagans had been; for we find christian byzantine matrons causing their slave-girls to be tied up and brutally flogged;[ ] even as we have the testimony of salvian to the atrocities committed by christian slave-owners in gaul.[ ] the admission that the church, even when encouraging laymen to free their slaves, insisted on retaining its own,[ ] is the proof that the urging force was not even then doctrinal, but the perception that the church's secular interests were served by the growth of an independent population outside its own lands.[ ] the spirit of the justinian code, despite its allusion to the law of nature, and the spirit of the enactments of the early councils of the church, are alike opposed to any idea of spiritual equality between bond and free. on the other hand, the simple restriction of conquest limited the possibilities of slavery for byzantium. captives were enslaved to the last,[ ] but of these there was no steady supply. in the rural districts, again, the fiscal conditions made for at least nominal freedom, as is shown by the historian who has most closely analysed the conditions:-- "the roman financial administration, by depressing the higher classes and impoverishing the rich, at last burdened the small proprietors and cultivators of the soil with the whole weight of the land-tax. the labourer of the soil then became an object of great interest to the treasury, and ... obtained almost as important a position in the eyes of the fisc as the landed proprietor himself. the first laws which conferred any rights on the slave are those which the roman government enacted to prevent the landed proprietors from transferring their slaves, engaged in the cultivation of lands assessed for the land-tax, to other employments which, though more profitable to the proprietor of the slave, would have yielded a smaller or less permanent return to the imperial treasury.[ ] the avarice of the imperial treasury, by reducing the mass of the free population to the same degree of poverty as the slaves, had removed one cause of the separation of the two classes. the position of the slave had lost most of its moral degradation, and [he] occupied precisely the same political position in society as the poor labourer from the moment that the roman fiscal laws compelled any freeman who had cultivated lands for the space of thirty years to remain for ever attached, with his descendants, to the same estate.[ ] the lower orders were from that period blended into one class; the slave rose to be a member of this body; the freeman descended, but his descent was necessary for the improvement of the great bulk of the human race, and for the extinction of slavery. _such was the progress of civilisation in the eastern empire._ the measures of justinian which, by their fiscal rapacity, tended to sink the free population to the same state of poverty as the slaves, really prepared the way for the rise of the slaves _as soon as any general improvement took place in the condition of the human race_."[ ] for the rest, it cannot be supposed that the "freedom" thus constituted had much actuality. sons of soldiers and artisans were held bound to follow their father's profession, as in the hereditary castes of the east,[ ] and none of the fruits of freedom are to be traced in byzantine life. still, the fact remains that the commercial and industrial life sustained the political, and that the political began definitely to fail when the commercial did. constantinople could hardly have collapsed as it did before the crusaders if its commerce had not already begun to dwindle through interception by venice and the italian trading cities. as soon as these were able to trade directly with the east they did so, thus withdrawing a large part of the stream of commerce from byzantium; and when, finally, they acquired the secret of her silk manufacture, her industrial revenue was in turn undermined. on the economic weakening, the political followed; and the eastern empire finally fell before the turks, very much as the western had fallen before the goths. footnotes: [footnote : aristotle, _politics_, v, .] [footnote : _id._ i, .] [footnote : plutarch, _solon_, c. .] [footnote : _id._ c. . cp. dr. grundy, _thucydides and the history of his age_, , p. , as to solon's evident purpose of promoting manufactures.] [footnote : maisch, _manual of greek antiquities_, eng. tr. p. . cp. meyer, ii, .] [footnote : cp. cunningham, _western civilisation_, i ( ), - .] [footnote : grote, ii, . hitherto athens was far behind other cities, as corinth, in trade. the industrial expansion seems to begin in solon's time (plutarch, _solon_, c. ; busolt, _griechische geschichte_, i, ).] [footnote : busolt, as cited, i, - . the details, many of them from lately recovered inscriptions, are full of interest. cp. grote, ii, .] [footnote : plutarch, _agis._ c. ; aristotle, _politics_, ii, ; thirlwall, viii, .] [footnote : the arguments of k.o. müller (dorians, eng. tr. b. iii, c. , §§ - ) in discredit of the received view, though not without weight, have never carried general conviction. cp. maisch, _manual of greek antiquities_, eng. tr. p. .] [footnote : see the recovered passage of polybius (xii, , ed. hultsch) cited (from mai, _nov. collect. vet. scriptor._ ii, ) by müller (_dorians_, eng. tr. ii, ). cp. m'lennan, _kinship in ancient greece_, § .] [footnote : aristotle, _politics_, ii, c. . on aristotle's unhesitating assumption (ii, ) as to the normality and the effects of pæderasty, cp. the refutation of müller, _dorians_, eng. tr. b. iv, c. , §§ - ; and as to the real causes of decline of population, see b. iii, c. , § . primogeniture was a main factor. as the propertied class, of whom aristotle speaks, became small through accumulations, which often went to heiresses, the whole statistic as to births is narrow and dubious. but it is safe to decide that the decline of the pure spartan population was not a result of vice, any more than the normal dwindling of the numbers of modern aristocracies. it should be remembered that younger sons would be likely to have illegitimate offspring among the helots, if not among the _perioikoi_. the selfish aristocracy thus wrought for its own class extinction.] [footnote : plutarch, _solon_, c. .] [footnote : see refs. in fustel de coulanges, _la cité antique_, . iii, ch. xviii, p. .] [footnote : aristotle, _politics_, ii, .] [footnote : cp. the _republic_, v, and the _laws_ (bks. v, xi; jowett's tr. rd ed. v, pp. , ) with the _politics_, vii, .] [footnote : _fr. vat._ xxxvii, .] [footnote : cp. hume, essay cited, as to the slight effect of the exposure check in china.] [footnote : above, p. .] [footnote : aristotle, _politics_, ii, ; plutarch, _agis_, c. .] [footnote : athenæus, citing phylarchus, iv, .] [footnote : grote, x, ; mahaffy, _greek life and thought_, p. ; _greek world under roman sway_, p. ; m'culloch, _treatises and essays_, ed. , pp. - .] [footnote : mahaffy, _greek life and thought_, p. .] [footnote : m'culloch, as cited, p. .] [footnote : thucydides, i, .] [footnote : grote, iv, , .] [footnote : citations in boeckh, bk. i, ch. .] [footnote : boeckh, bk. i, ch. . cp. de pauw, _recherches philosophiques sur les grecs_, , i, - .] [footnote : see e. ardaillon, _les mines du laurion dans l'antiquité_, , ch. v.] [footnote : the mines of laurium, though anciently worked by the "pelasgi," do not figure in athenian history till the beginning of the fifth century b.c. ardaillon, pp. - .] [footnote : as to the enormous cost in labour and money of such buildings as the propylæa and the parthenon, cp. mahaffy, _survey of greek civilisation_, p. , and m'cullagh, _industrial history of the free nations_, , i, , .] [footnote : "before the persian war athens had contributed less than many other cities, her inferiors in magnitude and in political importance, to the intellectual progress of greece. she had produced no artists to be compared with those of argos, corinth, sicyon, Ægina, laconia, and of many cities both in the eastern and western colonies. she could boast of no poets so celebrated as those of the ionian and Æolian schools. but ... in the period between the persian and the peloponnesian wars both literature and the fine arts began to tend towards athens as their most favoured seat" (thirlwall, vol. iii, ch. xviii, pp. , ). "never before or since has life developed so richly" (abbott, ii, ). cp. holm, eng. tr. ii, , .] [footnote : this view appears to be substantially at one with the reasoning of dr. cunningham (_western civilisation_, pp. - ). i must dissent, however, from his apparent position (pp. - ) that it was the _mode_ of the expenditure that was wrong, and that athens might have employed her ill-gotten capital "productively" in the modern economic sense. the cases of miletus and tyre, cited by him, seem to be beside the argument.] [footnote : plutarch, _pericles_, c. .] [footnote : cp. thirlwall, small ed. iii, .] [footnote : _on the revenues._] [footnote : as cited, bk. iv, ch. xxi.] [footnote : boeckh's arguments, denounced by lewis, need not be adhered to; but the whole theorem is so fantastic that lewis's general vindication of it is puzzling (trans. pref. xv, _note_).] [footnote : see hertzberg, _geschichte griechenlands unter der herrschaft der römer_, theil ii, kap. , p. , as to the vast estates now acquired by a few.] [footnote : in magna graecia, in particular, the whole pythagorean movement had such associations in a high degree. note the frequency of names beginning anax (= king or chief) in the history of early greek philosophy.] [footnote : mahaffy, _greek life and thought_, p. .] [footnote : _idem_, pp. - ; gibbon, bohn ed. iv, .] [footnote : _e.g._, the whole population of corinth; and , inhabitants of epirus.] [footnote : cp. finlay, i, .] [footnote : they exacted from macedonia only half the tribute it had paid to its kings; but there is a strong presumption that it was too impoverished after the war to pay more.] [footnote : "the extraordinary payments levied on the provinces soon equalled, and sometimes exceeded, the regular taxes" (finlay, i, ). cp. mahaffy, _greek world under roman sway_, pp. , , , , .] [footnote : cp. hertzberg, _gesch. griechenlands unter der herrsch. der römer_, th. i, kap. , pp. - .] [footnote : finlay, i, , , .] [footnote : "we stand [ st c. a.c.] before a decayed society of very rich men and slaves" (mahaffy, _greek world_, p. ).] [footnote : finlay, i, . but cp. frazer, _pausanias_, , p. , as to the decay in the second century.] [footnote : this was soon withdrawn by vespasian, but apparently with circumspection. in the first century a.c. the administration seems to have been unoppressive (mahaffy, _greek world_, pp. , ).] [footnote : hertzberg (_gesch. griechenlands unter der herrschaft der römer_, th. ii, kap. , p. ) rejects the statement of finlay that greece reached the lowest degree of misery and depopulation under the flavian emperors ("about the time of vespasian" is the first expression in the revised ed. i, ). but finlay contradicts himself: cp. p. . hertzberg again (iii, ) speaks of a "furchtbar zunehmende sociale noth des dritten jahrhunderts" at athens, without making the fact clear. see below.] [footnote : this is noted by finlay (i, ) in regard to the later surrender of a large mesopotamian territory by jovian to shapur ii, when the whole greek population of the ceded districts was forced to emigrate.] [footnote : cp. finlay, i, , - .] [footnote : finlay, i, . see p. as to the recognition of the military importance of greece by julian.] [footnote : cp. finlay, i, . as to the ruin wrought at the end of the fourth century by alaric; and pp. , , , , as to that wrought in the sixth century by huns, sclavonians, and avars.] [footnote : sôtêriaotai is one of the group-names preserved.] [footnote : they are already seen established in the laws of solon.] [footnote : foucart, _des associations religieuses chez les grecs_, , pp. - .] [footnote : they may have begun as early as the peloponnesian war (foucart, p. ).] [footnote : finlay, i, - , _notes_.] [footnote : _id._ i, .] [footnote : _id._ p. ; cp. pp. , .] [footnote : a fair idea of the facts may be had by combining the narratives of gibbon, finlay, and mr. oman (_the byzantine empire_, ch. x). gibbon and mr. oman ignore the threat to make carthage the capital; gibbon ignores the point as to the stoppage of the grain supply; finlay ignores the church loan; mr. oman (p. ) represents it as voluntary, whereas gibbon shows it to have been compulsory (ch. . bohn ed. v, , _note_). mr. bury alone (_history of the later roman empire_, , ii, - ) gives a fairly complete view of the situation. he specifies a famine and a pestilence as following on the stoppage of the grain supply.] [footnote : finlay, i, .] [footnote : _id._ ii, .] [footnote : robertson smith, _religion of the semites_, p. .] [footnote : oman, as cited, pp. , . the conventional claim, as made by robertson and echoed by guizot, was partly disallowed even by milman, and countered by the clerical editor of the bohn ed. of gibbon (ii, - ). but such conventional formulas are always subject to resuscitation.] [footnote : finlay (i, ) writes that "at this favourable conjuncture christianity stepped in to prevent avarice from ever recovering the ground which humanity had gained." this clearly did not happen, and his later chapters supply the true explanation.] [footnote : finlay later says so in so many words (ii, , ), explicitly rejecting the christian theory (see also p. ). this historian's views seem to have modified as his studies proceeded, but without leading him to recast his earlier text.] [footnote : luke xvii, - , gr. the translation "servant" is, of course, an entire perversion.] [footnote : cor. vii, - . the phrase unintelligibly garbled as "use it rather" clearly means "rather remain a slave." "even" being understood in the previous clause. this was the interpretation of chrysostom and most of the fathers. see the variorum teacher's bible, _ad loc_. cp. the whole first chapter of larroque, _de l'esclavage chez les nations chrétiennes_, nd édit. ; and the forcible passage of frédéric morin, _origines de la démocratie_, e édit. , pp. - . as morin points out, the church has never passed a theological condemnation of slavery. on the other hand, it was expressly justified by augustine (_de civ. dei_, . xix, c. ) as a divinely ordained punishment for sin; and by thomas aquinas (_de regimine principum_, ii, ) as being further a stimulus to bravery in soldiers. he cannot have seen the histories of tacitus, where (ii, ) civil wars are declared to have been the most bloody, _because_ prisoners were not to be enslaved.] [footnote : athenagoras, _apology for christianity_, c. ; chrysostom, _passim_.] [footnote : _instit. justin._ i, iii, § , ; v.] [footnote : _politics_, i, .] [footnote : cp. michelet, _hist. de france_, vol. vii, _renaissance_, note du § v. introd. (ed. , pp. - ). michelet argues that the christian influence was substantially anti-liberationist.] [footnote : u.r. burke, _history of spain_, hume's ed. i, , .] [footnote : chrysostom. th hom. in eph. (iv, ); cp. th hom. in thess. (v. ).] [footnote : "cum occidunt servos suos, jus putant esse, non crimen. non solum hoc, sed eodem privilegio etiam in execrando impudicitiæ cæno abutuntur" (_de gubernatione dei_, iv).] [footnote : see below, pt. iv, ch. ii.] [footnote : cp. the whole of larroque's second chapter.] [footnote : so mr. oman admits, p. .] [footnote : _cod. theod._ xi, . , ; _cod. justin._ xi, .] [footnote : _cod. justin._ xi, , and . [a clear retrogression to quasi-slavery for the freemen.]] [footnote : finlay, i, , . cp. p. .] [footnote : _id._ ii, , and _note_. cp. dill, as cited, p. .] part iii culture forces in antiquity chapter i greece § it is still common, among men who professedly accept the theory of evolution, to speak of special culture developments, notably those of sculpture and literature in greece, art in medieval italy, and theocratic religion in judea, as mysteries beyond solution. it may be well, then, to consider some of these developments as processes of social causation, in terms of the general principles above outlined. [a rational view was reached by the sociologists of the eighteenth century, by whom the question of culture beginnings was much discussed--_e.g._, goguet's _de l'origine des lois, des arts, et des sciences_, ; ferguson's _essay on the history of civil society_, ; and hume's essay on the _rise and progress of the arts and sciences_. at the end of the century we find the solution scientifically put by walckenaer: "ainsi le germe de génie et des talens existe dans tous les tems, mais tous les tems ne sont pas propres à le faire éclore" (_essai sur l'histoire de l'espèce humaine_, , . vi, ch. xx, _des siècles les plus favorables aux productions de génie_, pp. , ). in england forty years later we find hallam thus exemplifying the obscurantist reaction: "there is only one cause for the want of great men in any period--nature does not think fit to produce them. they are no creatures of education and circumstances" (_literature of europe_, pt. i, ch. iii, § ). a kindred though much less crude view underlies sir francis galton's argument in _hereditary genius_. cp. the present writer's paper on "the economics of genius," in _the forum_, april, (rep. in _essays in sociology_, vol. ii), and the able essay of mr. cooley, there cited. my esteemed friend, mr. lester ward (_dynamic sociology_, ii, , ), seems to me, as does mill (_system of logic_, bk. vi, ch. iv, § ; cp. bain, _j.s. mill_, p. ), to err somewhat on the opposite side to that of hallam and galton, in assuming that faculty is nearly equal in all, given only opportunity.] and first as to greece. as against the common conception of the hellenic people as "innately" artistic, it may be well to cite the judgment of an artist who, if not more scientific in his method of reaching his opinion, has on the whole a better right to it in this case than has the average man to his. it is a man of genius who writes[ ]: "a favourite faith, dear to those who teach, is that certain periods were especially artistic, and that nations, readily named, were notably lovers of art. so we are told that the greeks were, as a people, worshippers of the beautiful, and that in the fifteenth century art was ingrained in the multitude....listen! there never was an artistic period. there never was an art-loving nation." this, which was sometime a paradox, is when interpreted one of the primary truths of sociology. our theorist goes on to describe the doings of the first artist, and the slow contagion of his example among men similarly gifted, till the artistic species had filled the land with beautiful things, which were uncritically used by the non-artistic; "and the amateur was unknown--and the dilettante undreamed of." such is the artist's fairy tale of explanation. the probable fact is that the "first artists" in historic greece were moved to imitative construction by samples of the work of foreigners. if, on the other hand, we decide that the "race" had evolved relatively high artistic capacities before it reached its greek or asian home,[ ] it will still hold good that the early Ægean evolution owed much to ancient oriental and egyptian example. the greeks as we know them visibly passed from primitive to high art in all things. having first had fetish gods of unshapen stone, they made gods in crudely human shape, at first probably of wood, later of stone. so with vases, goblets, tables, furniture, and ware of all sorts, all gradually developing in felicity of form up to a certain point, whereafter art worsened. what we require to know is the why of both processes. _pace_ the artist, it is clear that artistic objects were multiplied mainly because they were in steady economic demand. the shaping impulse is doubtless special, and in its highest grades rare; but there must also have been special conditions to develop it in one country in the special degree. that is to say, the faculty for shaping, for design, was oftener appealed to in greece than elsewhere, and was allowed more freedom in the response, thus reaching new excellence. the early greeks can have had no very delicate taste, satisfied as they were with statues as primitive as the conventional assyrian types they copied. prof. burrows, in his valuable work on _the discoveries in crete_ ( ), somewhat confuses one of his problems by assuming that, on a given chronological view, the creators of the early Ægean civilisation were "the most progressive and artistic part of the race" (p. ). no such assumption can be valid on any chronology. every "part" of a race, broadly speaking, has the same total potentialities. the determinants are the special _evocative_ conditions, which may be either culture contacts or economic fostering. a rational view of the growth of greek art is put by dr. mahaffy, despite his endorsement of mr. freeman's extravagant estimate of athenian intelligence:--"however national and diffused it [art] became, this was due to careful study, and training, and legislation, and not to a sort of natural compulsion.... as natural beauty was always the exception among greek men, so artistic talent was also rare and special" (_social life in greece_, rd ed. p. ). all the remains, as well as every principle of sociological science, go to support this view of the case. when reber asserts (_hist. of ancient art_, eng. tr. , p. ) that "the very first carvings of greece had a power of development which was wanting in all the other nations of that period," he is setting up an occult principle and obscuring the problem. the other nations of _that period_ were not in progressive stages; but some of them had progressed in art in their time. and many of the "very first" greek works--that is, of the "historic" period, as distinguished from the "minoan"--are enormously inferior to some very ancient egyptian work. the development of taste was itself the outcome of a thousand steps of comparison and specialisation, art growing "artistic" as children grow in reasonableness and in nervous co-ordination. and the special conditions of historic greece were roughly these:-- ( ) the great primary stimulus to greek art, science, and thought, through the contact of the early settlers in asia minor with the remains of the older semitic civilisation,[ ] and the further stimuli from egypt. ( ) multitude of autonomous communities, of which the members had intercourse as kindred yet critical strangers, emulous of each other, but mixing their stocks, and so developing the potentialities of the species. ( ) multitude of religious cults, each having its local temples, its local statues, and its local ritual practices. ( ) the concourse in athens, and some other cities, of alert and capable men from all parts of the greek-speaking world,[ ] and of men of other speech who came thither to learn. ( ) the special growth of civic and peaceful population in attica by the free incorporation of the smaller towns in the franchise of athens. athens had thus the largest number of free citizens of all the greek cities to start with,[ ] and the maximum of domestic peace. ( ) the maintenance of an ideal of cultured life as the outcome of these conditions, which were not speedily overridden either by (_a_) systematic militarism, or (_b_) industrialism, or (_c_) by great accumulation of wealth. ( ) the special public expenditure of the state, particularly in the age of pericles, on art, architecture, and the drama, and in stipends to the poorer of the free citizens. thus the culture history of greece, like the political, connects vitally from the first with the physical conditions. the disrupted character of the mainland; the diffusion of the people through the Ægean isles; the spreading of colonies on east and west, set up a multitude of separate city-states, no one of which could decisively or long dominate the rest. these democratic and equal communities reacted on each other, especially those so placed as to be seafaring. their separateness developed a multitudinous mythology; even the gods generally recognised being worshipped with endless local particularities, while most districts had their special deities. for each and all of these were required temples, altars, statues, sacred vessels, which would be paid for by the public[ ] or the temple revenues, or by rich devotees; and the countless myths, multiplied on all hands because of the absence of anything like a general priestly organisation, were an endless appeal to the imitative arts. nature, too, had freely supplied the ideal medium for sculpture and for the finest architecture--pure marble. and as the political dividedness of hellenedom prevented even an approach to organisation among the scattered and independent priests, so the priesthood had no power and no thought of imposing artistic limitations on the shapers of the art objects given to their temples. in addition to all this, the local patriotism of the countless communities was constantly expressed in statues to their own heroes, statesmen, and athletes. and in such a world of sculpture, formative art must needs flourish wherever it could ornament life. we have only to compare the conditions in judea, persia, egypt, and early rome to see the enormous differentiation herein implied. in mazdean persia and yahwistic judea there was a tabu on all divine images, and by consequence on all sculpture that could lend itself to idolatry.[ ] (this tabu, like the monotheistic idea, was itself the outcome of political and social causation, which is in large part traceable and readily intelligible.) in italy, in the early historic period, outside of etruria, there had been no process of culture-contact sufficient to develop any of the arts in a high degree; and the relation of the romans to the other italian communities in terms of situation and institutions[ ] was fatally one of progressive conquest. their specialisation was thus military or predaceous; and the formal acceptance of the deities of the conquered communities could not prevent the partial uniformation of worship. thus rome had nearly everything to learn from greece in art as in literature. in egypt, again, where sculpture had at more than one time, in more than one locality, reached an astonishing excellence,[ ] the easily maintained political centralisation[ ] and the commercial isolation made fatally for uniformity of ideal; and the secure dominion of the organised priesthood, cultured only sacerdotally, always strove to impose one stolid conventional form on all sacred and ritual sculpture,[ ] which was copied in the secular, in order that kings should as much as possible resemble gods. where the bulk of greece was "servile to all the skyey influences," physically as well as mentally, open on all sides to all cultures, all pressures, all stimuli, egypt and judea and persia were relatively iron-bound, and early rome relatively inaccessible. finally, as militarism never spread spartan-wise over pre-alexandrian greece, and her natural limitations prevented any such exploitation of labour as took place in egypt, the prevailing ideal in times of peace, at least in attica, was that of the cultured man, kalokagathos, supported by slave labour but not enormously rich, who stimulated art as he was stimulated by it. assuredly he was in many cases a dilettante, if not an amateur, else had art been in a worse case. it is to be remembered that in later greece, from about the time of apelles, all free children were taught to draw (pliny, _hist. nat._ xxxv, , ); and long before, the same authority tells us, art was taken up by men of rank. the introduction of painting into the schools at sicyon took place about b.c., and thence the practice spread all over hellas. aristotle, too (_politics_, v [viii], ), commends the teaching of drawing to children, noting that it enables men to judge of the arts and avoid blunders in picture-buying--though he puts this as an inferior and incidental gain. thus the educated greeks were in a fairly good sense all dilettanti and amateurs. on the whole subject see k.j. freeman, _schools of hellas_, , pp. - . § in literature greek development is as clearly consequent as in art. the homeric poems are the outcome of a social state in which a class of bards could find a living by chanting heroic tales to aristocratic households. lyric genius is indeed something specially incalculable; and it is startling to realise that about the time of the rude rule of peisistratos at athens, sappho in lesbos was not merely producing the perfect lyrics which to this day men reckon unmatched, but was the centre of a kind of school of song. but lesbos was really the home of an ancient culture--"the earliest of all the Æolic settlements, anterior even to kymê"[ ]--and sappho followed closely upon the lyrists pittakos and alkaios. so that here too there is intelligible causation in environment as well as genius. in other directions it is patent. the drama, tragic and comic alike, was unquestionably the outcome of the public worship of the gods, first provided for by the community, later often exacted by it from rich aspirants to political power. greek drama is a clear evolution, on the tragic side, from the primitive ritual of dionysos, beer-god or wine-god; individual genius and communal fostering combining to develop a primitive rite into a literary florescence.[ ] for all such developments special genius is as a matter of course required, but potential genius occurs in all communities in given forms at a given culture stage; and what happened in athens was that the special genius for drama was specially appealed to, evoked, and maintained. Æschylus in egypt and aristophanes in persia must have died with all their drama in them. further, as grote has so luminously shown,[ ] the juridical life of athens, with its perpetual play of special pleading in the dikasteries, was signally propitious to the spirit of drama. the constant clashing and contrast of ethical points of view, the daily play of eristic thought, was in itself a real drama which educated both dramatists and audience, and which inevitably affected the handling of moral problems on the stage. athens may thus be said to have cultivated discussion as sparta cultivated "laconism"; and both philosophy and drama in greece are steeped in it. myths thus came to be handled on the stage with a breadth of reflection which was nowhere else possible. historiography, science, and philosophy, again, were similarly fostered by other special conditions. abstract and physical science began for greece in the comparison and friction of ideas among leisured men, themselves often travelled, living in inquisitive communities often visited by strangers. what egypt and syria and phoenicia had to give in medical lore, in geometry, and in astronomy, was assimilated and built upon, in an atmosphere of free thought and free discussion, whence came all manner of abstract philosophy, analytical and ethical. plato and aristotle are the peaks of immense accumulations of more primitive thought beginning on the soil laid by semitic culture in asia minor; socrates was stimulated and drawn out by the athenian life on which he didactically reacted; hippocrates garnered the experience of many medical priests. history was cultivated under similar conditions of manifold intercourse and intelligent inquisitiveness. herodotus put down the outcome of much questioning during many travels, and he had an appreciative public with similar tastes.[ ] the manifold life of hellas and her neighbours, egypt, persia, syria, was an endless ground for inquiry and anecdote. the art of writing, acquired long before from phoenicia, was thus put to unparalleled uses; and at length the theme of the peloponnesian war, in which all the political passions of hellas were embroiled for a generation, found in thucydides a historian produced by and representative of all the critical judgment of the critical athenian age. plutarch, in a later period, condenses a library of lesser writers. thus in respect of every characteristic and every special attainment of greek life we can trace external causation, from the geographical conditions upwards, without being once tempted to resort to the verbalist explanation of "race qualities" or "national genius." if hellas developed otherwise than phoenicia from any given date onwards, the causes lay either in the environment or in the set previously given to phoenician life by its special antecedents, which in turn were determined by environment. to suppose that "the greeks" started primordially with a unique connatural bent to a relatively "ideal" method of life, preferring culture to riches and art to luxury, is to entail the further assumption of a separate biological evolution from the pre-human stage. to put the problem clearly, let us say that if we suppose the ancestors of the greeks three millenniums before homer to have been planted in australia, with none of the domesticable animals which have played so decisive a part in the development of human societies, there is no good reason to think that the "race" would have risen to any higher levels than had been reached by the australian aborigines at the time of their discovery by europeans. one of the most remarkable things about those aborigines is their disproportionately high cranial capacity, which seems compatible with a mental life that their natural environment has always precluded. many plain traces of gross primeval savagery remain in greek literature and religion; and to credit all greek progress to a unique racial faculty is to turn the back upon all the accumulating evidence which goes to show that from the first entrance of the greeks into greece they blended with and assimilated the culture of the races whom they found there.[ ] the futility of the whole racial thesis becomes evident, finally, the moment we reflect how unequal greek culture was; how restricted in hellas, how special to athens was it on the intellectual side when once athens had reached her stature; how blank of thought and science was all hellenic life before the contact of semitic survivals in ionia; how backward were many sections of the pagan hellenic stock to the last; and how backward they have been since the political overturn in antiquity. the vitiating concept of racial genius appears incidentally, but definitely, in dr. cunningham's contrast of phoenicians and greeks as relatively wealth-seekers and culture-seekers, ingrained barbarians and ingrained humanists (_western civilisation_, pp. , , , , etc.), and in his phrase as to the persistent "principles which the greek and the phoenician respectively represented." the antithesis, it is here maintained, is spurious. many greeks were in full sympathy with the phoenician norm; many phoenicians must have been capable of delighting in the greek norm had they been reared to it. at a given period the phoenicians had a higher life than the greeks; and had the phoenicians evolved for ages in the greek environment, with an equivalent blending of stocks and cross-fertilisation of cultures, they could have become all that the greeks ever were. the assertion that when we see "the destruction and degradation of human life in the march of material progress, we see what is alien to the greek spirit" (_id._ p. ) will not bear examination. greek slavery, like every other, was just such a degradation of human life. and to speak of a "consciousness of her mission" on the part of "athens" (_id._ pp. , ) is to set up a pseudo-entity and a moral illusion. it is remarkable that even among students well abreast of evolutionary thought there is still a strong tendency to think of greek civilisation in terms of some occult virtue of "hellenic spirit," something unique in social phenomena, something not to be accounted for like the process of evolution in other races. thus so accomplished and critical a thinker as prof. gilbert murray seems to account for every greek advance beyond savagery as a result of "hellenism." _e.g._, "human sacrifice, then, is one of the barbarities which hellenism successfully overcame" (_the rise of the greek epic_, , p. ); "solved by the progressive, or, i may say, by the hellenic spirit" (_id._ p. ). in this way the discrediting and abandonment of the use of poisoned arrows in the "homeric" period (_id._ pp. - ) seems to be ascribed either to the homeric or to the hellenic "spirit." now, mr. murray himself incidentally notes (p. ) that poisoned weapons are forbidden in the laws of manu; and it might be pointed out that even among the barbaric and ill-advantaged somali, when visited by burton fifty years ago, the use of poisoned arrows was already restricted to "the servile class" (_first footsteps in east africa_, ed. , p. ; cp. p. ). the use of poisoned arrows, in short, is common in savagery, and is transcended by all races alike when they rise some way above that level. the "hellenes," to start with, were savages like the rest, and rose like others in virtue of propitious conditions. so with human sacrifice. according to herodotus, the egyptians had abandoned it before the greeks. shall we describe the egyptian progress as a matter of "egypticism" or "the egyptian spirit"? defences of the greeks, such as that made so ably by mr. murray against the aspersions cast upon "paganism" by uncritical christians, are to be sympathetically received in the light of their purport; but the true historical method is surely not to exhibit the historic greeks as "antitheses" to "the pagan man" of modern anthropology, but to show christians how they and their creed have evolved from savagery even as did the greeks. (cp. the author's _christianity and mythology_, nd ed. p. _sq._, as to the pro-hellenic handling of greek phenomena by other scholars.) should the general line of causation here set forth be challenged, it will suffice, by way of test, to turn to the special case of sparta. if it were "greek character" that brought forth greek art, letters, and science, they ought to have flourished in greek sparta as elsewhere. it is, however, the notorious historic fact that during all the centuries of her existence, after the pre-lycurgean period, sparta contributed to the general deed of man virtually nothing, either in art or letters, in science or philosophy. the grounds for holding that choral poetry flourished pre-eminently at sparta (see k.o. müller, _history of the dorians_, eng. tr. ii, ) are not very strong. see busolt, _griechische geschichte_, , i, , , for what can be finally said on this head. ernst curtius (_griechische geschichte_, , i, ) writes on this subject as a romantic enthusiast. burckhardt (_griechische culturgeschichte_, i, - ) examines the subject with his usual care, but decides only that the spartans employed music with a special eye to military education. and müller acknowledges that though many spartan lyrists are named, "there has not been preserved a single fragment of spartan lyric poetry, with the exception of alkman's," the probable reason being "a certain uniformity and monotony in their productions, such as is perceived in the early works of art." on the whole question cp. k.j. freeman's _schools of hellas_, chs. i and xi. in the story of hellas, sparta stands almost alone among the peoples as yielding no foothold to the life of the mind, bare of nearly all memory of beauty,[ ] indigent in all that belongs to the spirit, morally sterile as steel. yet "the dorians of laconia are perhaps the only people in greece who can be said to have preserved in any measure the purity of their greek blood."[ ] before such a phenomenon the dogma of race-character instantly collapses, whereas in terms of the reaction of conditions the explanation is entirely adequate. as thus:-- . sparta was by situation one of the most secluded of the greek states. in the words of euripides, it was "hollow, surrounded by mountains, rugged, and difficult of access to an enemy."[ ] compared in particular with athens, it was not only landward and mountain-walled, but out of the way of all traffic.[ ] . from the first the spartans were balanced in a peculiar degree by the strength of the achaians, who were in the peloponnesus before them, the hostilities between the invaders and the older inhabitants lasting longer in the valley of the eurotas than anywhere else.[ ] the spartan militarism was thus a special product of circumstances, not a result of doric "character," since other dorian communities did not develop it. . being thus so little open to commercial influence, and so committed to a life of militarism, sparta was susceptible of a rigidity of military constitution that was impossible elsewhere in the hellenic world, save to some extent in the similarly aristocratic and undeveloped communities of thessaly and crete, each similarly noted for unintellectuality. whatever be the political origins of these societies, it is clear that that of sparta could not have been built up or maintained save under conditions of comparative isolation. grote, always somewhat inclined to racial explanations, argues (ed. , ii, ), as against k.o. müller, who had still stronger leanings of the kind, that the spartans were not the "true doric type," in that their institutions were peculiar to themselves, distinguishing them "not less from argos, corinth, megara, epidaurus, sikyôn, korkyra, or knidus, than from athens or thebes." this is doubtless true as against müller (cp. kopstadt, cited by grote; cox, _general history of greece_, , p. ; and ménard, _histoire des grecs_, , pp. , ), but the suggestion that the spartans varied in respect of being _less_ "doric" is equally astray. grote goes on to note that "krête was the only other portion of greece in which there prevailed institutions in many respects analogous, yet still dissimilar in those two attributes which form the real mark and pinch of spartan legislation--viz., the military discipline and rigorous private training. there were doubtless dorians in krête, but we have no proof that these peculiar institutions belonged to them more than to the other inhabitants of the island." the argument cuts both ways. if it was not definitely "dorian" to have such institutions, neither was it un-dorian. as cox observes (p. ), the spartan constitution in its earlier stages "much resembled the constitution of the achaians as described in the _iliad_." equally arbitrary seems grote's argument (i, ) that "the low level of taste and intelligence among the thessalians, as well as certain points of their costume, assimilates them more to macedonians or epirots than to hellenes." he notes the equally low level of taste and intelligence among the spartans, who as a rule could not read or write (ii, ), and to whom he might as well have assimilated the thessalians as to the macedonians. in all cases alike culture conditions supply the true explanation. all through greece, barring sparta, stocks were endlessly mixed. m. ménard well points out in reply to müller that it is impossible to associate types of government with any of the special "races"--that as against sparta there were "ionian aristocracies at marseilles and at chalkis, and dorian democracies at tarentum and syracuse," while most of the greek cities had by turns aristocratic and democratic constitutions. . as regards sparta, the specialisation of all life on the military side developed a spirit of peculiar separateness and arrogance,[ ] which clinched the geographical influence. where greeks of all states were admitted to the eleusinian festivals, sparta kept hers for her own people.[ ] this would limit her literary mythology, and by consequence her art. among the names of greek sculptors only three belong to sparta, and these are all of the sixth century b.c., the beginning of the historic period. after that, nothing. see radford's _ancient sculpture_, chron. list at end. thus sparta positively retrogressed into militarism. "there is evidence in the character of alkman's poetry that he did not sing to a sparta at all resembling the so-called sparta of lycurgus" (mahaffy, _problems in greek history_, p. ; cp. burckhardt, _griechische culturgeschichte_, i, ). . not only does military specialism preclude, so far as it goes, more intellectual forms of activity: it develops in the highest degree the conservative spirit[ ] when thoroughly rooted in law and custom. nor is it any more favourable to moral feeling in general.[ ] as offset to all this it may be urged that the middle unenfranchised class (the _perioikoi_) in sparta, the _penestai_ in thessaly, and the ordinary citizens in crete, were in some ways superior types to part of the similar classes of attica; while the slaves, as having some military life, were, despite the flavour of the name "helot," above the average.[ ] but even if that were so, it would not affect the problem as to culture development, and its solution in terms of the primary and secondary conditions of life for the given communities. it is to be noted that in crete, less isolated by nature and way of life than either sparta or thessaly, less rigidly militarised than they and more democratic in constitution, there were more stirrings of mind. epimenides, the author of the famous saying that the cretans were always "liars, evil beasts, idle gluttons," was himself a distinguished cretan. but crete on the whole counts for very little in greek culture-history. cp. k.j. freeman, _schools of hellas_, p. . § such being, in brief, the process of the building up of culture for greece, it remains to note the causes of the process of retrogression, which also connects broadly with the course of politics. indeed, the mere expansion of hellenistic life set up by the empire-making of alexander might alone account for a complete change in the conditions and phases of greek civilisation. in the new hellenistic world wealth and power were to be won with ease and with amenity[ ] where of old there was only an alien barbarism, or at least a society which to the cultured greek was barbaric. when such cities as alexandria and antioch beckoned the greek scholar of small means, impoverished athens could hardly retain him. her extorted revenue in her most powerful period,[ ] as we saw, was the source of her highest flight of artistic splendour; and even after the peloponnesian war, with greatly lessened power, athens was the most desirable dwelling-place in hellas. after alexander, all this was insensibly changed: athens, though for a time filled with greeks enriched by the plunder of persia, must needs gradually dwindle to the point at which the slight natural advantages of her soil, industry, and situation would maintain her; and the life of ideas, such as it finally was, passed inevitably to alexandria, where it was systematically encouraged and protected, in the fashion in which well-meaning autocrats do such things. but while these new developments were not inconsiderable, and included some rare felicities, they were on the whole fatally inferior to the old, and this for reasons which would equally affect what intellectual life was left in greece proper. the forces of hindrance were political and psychological;[ ] and they operated still more powerfully under the romans than under the successors of alexander. the dominance of the greeks over the other races in the eastern provinces did not make them more than a class of privileged tools of rome; and they deteriorated none the less.[ ] when for the stimulating though stormy life of factious self-government there was substituted the iron hand of a conqueror, governing by military force, there was need of a new and intelligent discipline if the mental atmosphere were not to worsen. all civilisation, in so far as it proceeds from and involves a "leisured class," sets up a perpetual risk of new morbid phases. men must have some normal occupation if their life is to be sound; and where that occupation is not handicraft it can be kept sound and educative only by the perpetual free effort of the intelligence towards new truth, new conception, and new presentment.[ ] nor can this effort conceivably take place on any wide scale, and with any continuity, save in a community kept more or less generally alert by the agitation of vital issues. for a generation or two after alexander, it is true, there is no arrest in the production of good philosophic minds among the greeks; indeed, the sudden forcing back of all the best remaining minds on philosophy, as the one mental employment left to self-respecting men of leisure,[ ] raised the standards of the study, and led to the ethical systems of epicurus and zeno, certainly fit in their way to stand beside those of plato and aristotle. so, too, the thrusting back of the drama (which in the hands of aristophanes had meddled audaciously with every public question) on the study of private life, developed in the highest degree the domestic and psychological bent of the later comedy,[ ] very much as the autocracy has developed the novel in contemporary russia. but the schools of epicurus and zeno, both of which outlasted in moral credit and in moral efficacy that of plato,[ ] and the new comedy of menander, alike represent the as yet unexhausted storage of the mental energy generated by the old political life; and the development is not prolonged in either case. evidently something vital was lost: only a renewal of the freer life could make possible a continuous advance in intellectual power. on this it is important to insist, as there are plausible grounds for contrary inferences, which are often drawn. all supposed exceptions to the law, however, will be found on analysis to be apparent only. a tyranny may indeed give economic encouragement to art and culture, and a republic may fail to do so; but the work of the tyranny is inevitably undone or kept within a fixed limit by its own character; while, if the free community be but fairly well guided, its potentialities are unlimited. this is the solution of much modern dispute between the schools of _laissez-faire_ and protection. a velasquez, who might otherwise have been condemned to seek his market with coarser wares, may develop to perfection at the court of an autocrat of fine taste; but even he partly depends for his progress on intelligent communion, which the autocrat in this case chances to yield him. and from velasquez onward there is no progress. so, in autocratic assyria, sculpture reaches a certain point and becomes for ever conventionalised. in egypt it conforms more or less exactly to the general stereotyping of life. we may grant, with some emphatic qualifications, that in some cases "with the tyrant _began_ the building of large temples, ... the patronage of clever handicrafts, the promoting of all the arts,"[ ] and that he may have patronised men of letters; but as regards the temples it is certain that in hellas he was not the chief temple-builder; and it is also quite certain that the tyrant never evolved a single generation of important writers, thinkers, and artists, any more than of intelligent, self-respecting, and self-governing citizens. the latter constituted, in fact, the necessary nutritive soil for the former in the communities of antiquity.[ ] it has been said[ ] that "at the end of the third century of rome, when its inhabitants had hardly escaped from the hands of porsena, syracuse contained more men of high genius than any other city in the world. these were collected at the court of the first hiero, during his short reign of ten years, and among them were the greatest poets of the age: pindar ... simonides ... Æschylus." this is true; but hiero had not been the means of evolving the powers of any one of the three. pindar is manifestly the product of the diversified life of the free states; simonides, though much patronised by aristocrats, began to "find himself" as a chorus teacher at carthea in ceos, won countless prizes at the greek festivals,[ ] and spent only the latter part of his life with hiero; Æschylus is the product of the attic theatre. not the tyranny, but democracy, had been the _alma mater_. it is true that athens after Æschylus played the "despot city" in finance, but she so far preserved at home the democratic atmosphere, in which, according to demosthenes, slaves had more freedom of speech than citizens in many other places.[ ] lesbos had her oscillations between oligarchy and despotism; but the group in which sappho stood was that of pittakos and alkaios--the elected ten-years dictator who finally laid down his dictatorship, and the fierce singer who assailed him. not in the "roman peace" of a fixed despotism did lesbian song reach its apex. the old problem of the culture-value of the tyrant has been raised afresh by messrs. mitchell and caspari, in their abridgment of grote's _history of greece_. grote's enthusiasm for democracy, they contend, "undoubtedly prevented him from doing full justice to much that was good in the non-democratic governments of greece," notably "in his estimate of the so-called 'tyrants' of the greek world and in his attitude towards the macedonian empire" (pref. to work cited, p. xv). part of their discussion is beside the case, and proves only their general hostility to grote as "a rationalist," to whom "every problem was a matter for rational discussion" (p. xiii). they first assert that grote's chapter heading, "age of the despots," is "subtly misleading," inasmuch as there were despots at various periods in greek history--as has been insisted by professor mahaffy. then they avow that "this fact is mentioned by grote himself," and that he "quite properly distinguishes" between the early and the late tyrannies. the counter-claim is first put in the propositions ( ) that an early greek "tyranny" was in effect "a union of one powerful personality with the poorer and hitherto unrepresented classes," favourable to individual life among the latter; and ( ) that the tyrants by preserving peace and giving the people individual freedom of life promoted "the accumulation of wealth and the extension of trade at home and abroad, and enriched the greek mind by familiarising it with the natural and artistic products of other lands" (p. xvii). there is really nothing here that grote denied; nor do the critics attempt to show that he denies it. grote actually said, before them, that "the demagogue despots are interesting as the first evidence of the growing importance of the people in political affairs. the demagogue stood forward as representing the feelings and interests of the people against the governing few.... even the worst of the despots was more formidable to the rich than to the poor; and the latter may perhaps have gained by the change...." (_history_, pt. ii, ch. ix, ed. , ii, ). as regards the case of peisistratos, on which messrs. mitchell and caspari chiefly found their plea, grote notes that his "was doubtless practically milder" than the average despotism, but that "cases of this character were rare." and to _this_ thesis, which is backed by an overwhelming mass of greek testimony, from herodotus to aristotle and plato, the critics offer no kind of answer. they do, however, claim for "the tyrants" in general that "in the first place their orderly government provided _for the first time_ the conditions which are essential to artistic and literary production. secondly, it was their policy to foster in all possible ways everything that contributed to the magnificence of the states." if it be meant to include under the head of _tyrannoi_ the early feudal chieftains before whom the bards chanted, the issue is merely confused. if not, the proposition is untenable. if again it be argued that the mausoleum was a finer thing than the parthenon, or quite as well worth having, the real issue is missed. it is significant that grote's anti-rationalistic critics make no attempt to gauge the respective effects of "tyrannic" and democratic or oligarchic rule on the _inner_ life of men, which is what grote chiefly considered. neither is this, the vital issue, once faced in the essay of hegewisch "on the epoch of roman history most fortunate for the human race" (french trans. by solvet, ), or in the encomiums of gibbon, mommsen, and renan, before cited (p. , _note_). as has been shown above, there is no instance of a new and great intellectual development taking its rise or visibly going forward (save as at alexandria under the ptolemies) under the auspices of even a good despot in antiquity; though such a despot might at times usefully preserve the peace and cherish writers and artists. here, then, is a sociological clue that should be followed. the reasonable inference seems to be that democratic conditions, other things being equal, tend most to elicit human faculty. and where in modern times certain of the less democratic nations may be said to have developed certain forms of culture more widely and energetically than do certain of the more democratic states--as germany her learned class, in comparison with france and england and the united states; or modern russia in comparison with the states in the matter of the higher fiction--it can easily be shown ( ) that these developments arise not in virtue of but in reaction against autocracy, and ( ) that they were possible only in virtue of the evocative influence of communities living more freely. modern communities differ vitally from the ancient in that printing has created a species of intercourse which overleaps all political and geographical restrictions, so that a politically tyrannised community can yet receive and respond to the stimulus of another. but the stimulus is still indispensable. thus the intellectual expansion of france after the death of louis xiv[ ] drew germinally from the culture of the england of the day; and that of germany later in the century was equally a sequence from that and from the ferment in france. given the cluster of independent states, each with its court and its university, which made up the germany of the period, the revived spirit of free thought bore the more and the better fruit because of the multitude of the reactions involved in the circumstances. for the time, the slackened and lightened petty autocracies counted for intellectual democracy, though even kant was made to feel the pressure of censorship. it was not regal or ducal rule that made lessing or herder or schiller or goethe; and it was not mere kingly encouragement that bred scholars like hermann and wachsmuth and buttmann and bekker and boeckh and heeren and ottfried müller. the school of tübingen was the outcome of a movement that proximately began in english deism; and even the personal bias of frederick counted for much less in the evolution than the general contagion of european debate. in the university of berlin, organised after jena, the inspiring principle was that of intellectual freedom; and the moving spirits took express pains to guard against the tyranny of convention which they saw ruling in the universities of england. for the rest, the production of a very large class of scholarly specialists in germany was made possible primarily by the number of universities set up in the days of separatism, and secondarily by the absence of such economic conditions (all resting on possession of coal and maritime situation) as drew english energy predominantly to industry and commerce. it is true that if a democratic society to-day does not make express economic provision for a scholarly and cultured class, it is likely to lack such, because the leisured or idle class in all countries grows less capable of, and less inclined to, such intellectual production as it contributed to the serious literature of england during the nineteenth century. but such economic provision has been still more necessary in monarchic communities. finally, at every stage germany has been reacted upon by france and england; and it is notable that while, in the last generation, under a strengthening militarism and imperialism, the number of trained german specialists was maintained, the number of germans able to stir and lead european thought fell off.[ ] in the same way the phenomenon of a group of great novelists in the autocratic russia of our own age is no fruit of autocracy, save in the sense that autocratic government checks all other forms of criticism of life, all liberal discussion, and so drives men back on artistic forms of writing which offer no disturbing social doctrine. and the artistic development itself is made possible only by the culture previously or contemporaneously accumulated in other and freer communities, from whose mental life the cultivated russian draws his. it was to some extent a similar restrictive pressure that specially developed the drama in france under the third empire. apart from the peculiar case of the italian cities of the renaissance, discussed hereinafter, the most that can be said for the "tyrant" in modern europe is that richelieu and colbert promoted science in france; that the german principalities of the eighteenth century fostered music at their courts; that george iii did much for handel in england; and that the king of bavaria did still more for wagner. on the other hand, the system of national and municipal theatres on the continent was an essential adjunct even in this regard; and the mere comparative freedom accorded to the drama in elizabethan england, at a time when surplus intellectual energy lacked other stimuli, sufficed to develop that art in one generation to a degree never so speedily reached elsewhere, save in republican athens. where the "tyrant" is most useful is in such a civilisation as that of the saracens, for which autocracy is the only alternative to anarchy, and where, on a basis of derived culture, he can protect and rapidly further the useful arts and all manner of special studies. but even he cannot command a great intellectual art, or an inwardly great literature.[ ] it will hardly be pretended that the freethinking which went on in moslem persia and spain in the eighth and later centuries was evoked by the caliphs, though some of them for a time protected it. the ptolemies for a while fostered science at alexandria; but under roman rule--surely as tyrannous--it died out. and even under the ptolemies science was a hothouse plant which never throve in the open. it is clear, then, that first the rule of alexander and his successors, and later the rule of rome, over greece and the græcised east, put a check on the intellectual forces there, against which there was no counteractive in existence. there remained no other free communities whose culture could fecundate that of the greek and other cities held in tutelage. the city of rhodes, which recovered its independence at the death of alexander, and maintained its self-government down till the roman period, was, in point of fact, latterly distinguished for its art (mahaffy, _greek life and thought_, pp. - ), thus illustrating afresh the value of free life as an art stimulus; but its pre-eminently commercial activity, as in the case of corinth, and as later in the case of venice, kept it relatively undistinguished in literature. rich merchants commissioned pictures and statues, but not philosophies or books. holm (eng. trans. iv, ) calls rhodes a _seat_ of philosophy, etc., naming theophrastus and eudemus. but they both studied and settled at athens. from the whole history there emerges the demonstration of what might reasonably be put _a priori_--that for a whole community, once self-governing, to acquiesce in an all-embracing foreign despotism meant the settling of lethargy on half of its mental life.[ ] what the thinkers left in greece _could_ do was to lend philosophic ideas and method to the jurists at work on the problem of adapting roman law to the needs of a world-empire, and this was done to good purpose; but it was the last genuine task that the circumstances permitted of. to discuss vitally the problems of politics would have meant challenging the despotism. there remained, it is true, philosophy and the arts; and these were still cultivated; but they finally subsisted at the level of the spirit of a community which felt itself degenerate from its past, and so grew soon hopelessly imitative. no important work, broadly speaking, can ever be done save by men who, like the most gifted greeks of the palmy days (innovating in drama and improving on the science of the foreigner), feel themselves capable of equalling or transcending the past;[ ] and that feeling seems to have become impossible alike for the students and the sculptors of greece soon after the macedonian conquest, or at least after the roman. plato and pheidias, aristotle and praxiteles, Æschylus and epicurus, figured as heights of irrecoverable achievement; and the pupillary generations brooded dreamily over plato or drew serenity from epicurus as their bent lay, and produced statues of alien rulers, or of the deities of alien temples, where their ancestors had portrayed heroes for the cities and gods for the shrines of greece. beneath the decadence of spirit there doubtless lay, not physiological decay, as is sometimes loosely assumed, but a certain arrest of psychological development--an arrest which, as above suggested, may be held to have set in when the life and culture of the "family women" in the greek cities began decisively to conform to the asiatic standard, the men cultivating the mind, while the women were concerned only with the passive life of the body. in this one matter of the equal treatment of the sexes sparta transcended the practice of athens, her narrow intellectual life being at least the same for both; and to this element of equilibrium was probably due her long maintenance of vigour at the level of her ideal. [as, however, the spartan women, whatever their training, could not finally live the martial life of the men, the results of their chiefly animal training were not exemplary. see the question vivaciously discussed by de pauw, _recherches philosophiques sur les grecs_, , ptie. iv, sect. x, § --a work which contains many acute observations, as well as a good many absurdities. the spartan women, it appears, were in a special degree carried away by the bacchic frenzy. aelian, _var. hist._ iii, . cp. aristotle, _politics_, ii, (and other testimonies cited by hermann, _manual of the political antiquities of greece_, § , ), as to their general licence.] the arrested psychological development, it need hardly be added, would tend to mean not merely unoriginal thinking among those who did think, but finally a shrinkage of the small number of those who cared greatly for thinking. even in the independent period, the mental life of greece drew perforce from a relatively small class--chiefly the leisured middle class and the exceptional artificers or slaves who, in a democratic community, could win culture by proving their fitness for it. under the roman rule the endowed scholars (sophists) and artists alike would tend to minister to roman taste, and as _that_ deteriorated its ministers would. rome, it is easy to see, went the downward intellectual way in the imperial age with fatal certainty; and her subject states necessarily did likewise at their relative distance. finally, when christianity became the religion of the empire, all the sciences and all the fine arts save architecture and metal-work were rapidly stupefied, the emperor vetoing free discussion in the fifth century, and the church laying the dead hand of convention on all such art as it tolerated, even as the priesthood of egypt had done in their day. it is positively startling to trace the decline of the fine arts after the second century. on the arch of constantine, at rome, all the best sculpture is an appropriation from the older arch of trajan: under the first christian emperor there are no artists capable of decently embellishing his monument in the ancient metropolis. all the forms of higher faculty seem to have declined together; and as the decay proceeded the official hostility to all forms of free thought strengthened. [see finlay, _history of greece_, as cited, i, - , as to the veto on discussion by theodosius. in the next century justinian suppressed the philosophic schools at athens. finlay, in one passage (i, ), speaks of them as nearly extinct before suppression; but elsewhere (pp. - ) he gives an entirely contrary account. there are too many such contradictions in his pages. cp. hertzberg, _geschichte griechenlands seit dem absterben des antiken lebens_, , i, - .] by the time of constantine, even the coinage had come to look like that of a semi-barbarian state; and thought, of course, had already stagnated when christianity conquered the "educated" classes. but these classes themselves were speedily narrowed nearly to those of the priests and the bureaucracy, save in so far as commerce maintained some semi-leisure. barbarian invasion and imperial taxation combined in many districts to exterminate the former leisured and property-owning class. it is indeed an exaggeration to say that "the labourer and the artisan alone could find bread ... and, with the extinction of the wealthy and educated classes, the local prejudices of the lower orders became the law of society."[ ] but the last clause is broadly true. in this society the priest, with his purely pietistic tastes and knowledge, became the type and source of culture. a cultured modern greek apologist of the byzantine empire[ ] has anxiously sought to combine with the thesis that christianity is a civilising force, the unavoidable admission that byzantine civilisation was intellectually stationary for a thousand years. it is right that every possible plea for that ill-famed civilisation should be carefully attended to, even when it takes the form of reminding us[ ] that after all the sixth century produced procopius and agathias; the seventh, george of pisidia; the eighth, john of damascus; the ninth, photius; and so on--one man or two per century who contrived to be remembered without being annalised as emperor. of rather more importance is the item that christian constantinople at one point, following egyptian and roman precedent, improved on the practice of heathen athens, in that the women of the imperial court and of the upper classes seem to have received a fair share of what culture there was.[ ] it is further a matter of bare justice to note that byzantium had all along to maintain itself against the assaults of persia, of islam, of barbarism, heathen and christian, and of latin christendom. but there must all the same be made the grieving admission that "we certainly do not find in the byzantine authors the same depth and originality which mark the ancient writers whom they copied";[ ] and that this imitation "was unhappily the essential weakness of byzantine literature." that is to say, the intelligence of the christian empire, like that of the greece of the post-macedonian and the roman domination, looked back to pagan athens as to an irrecoverable greatness. in that case, if we are to assume comparative equality of culture between the sexes, there is no escape from the conclusion that christianity was in itself a force of fixation or paralysis, the subsequent counteraction of which in europe was a result of many causes--of any cause but the creed and lore itself. the creed, in fact, was a specific cause of isolation, and so of intellectual impoverishment. as was well said by gibbon, the mental paralysis of the byzantines was "the natural effect of their solitary and insulated state."[ ] the one civilisation from which byzantium might latterly have profited--the saracen--was made tabu by creed, which was further the efficient cause of the sunderance of byzantine and italian life. had the external conditions, indeed, permitted of the maintenance of the earlier manifold empire of constantine, the mere conditions of social diversity which prepared the countless strifes of speculative sects in egypt and syria might have led to intellectual progress, were it only by arousing in the more rational minds that aversion to the madness of all the wrangling sects which we detect in procopius.[ ] the disputes of the christians were indeed the most absurd that had ever been carried on in the greek tongue; and in comparing the competing insanities it is hard to imagine how from among themselves they could have evoked any form of rational thought. but as in northern europe in a later age, so in the byzantine empire, the insensate strifes of fanatics, after exhausting and decimating themselves, might have bred in a saner minority a conviction of the futility of all wars of creed--this if only external peace could have been secured. but the attacks, first of persia and later of islam, both determined religious enemies, with whom, on christian principles, there could be no fruitful intercourse, shore away all the outlying and diversified provinces, leaving to byzantium finally only its central and most homogeneous section, where the power of the organised church, backed by a monarchy bent on spiritual as on political unity, could easily withstand the slight forces of intellectual variation that remained. the very misfortunes of the empire, connected as they were with so many destructive earthquakes and pestilences,[ ] would, on the familiar principle of buckle, deepen the hold of superstition on the general mind. on the other hand, the final christianising of the bulgarian and slav populations on the north, while safeguarding the empire there, yielded it only the inferior and retarding culture-contact of a new pietistic barbarism, more childish in thought than itself. we can see the fatality of the case when we contemplate the great effort of leo the isaurian in the eighth century to put down image-worship by the arm of the executive. no such effort could avail against the mindless superstition of the ignorant mass, rich[ ] and poor, on whom the clerical majority relied for their existence. a moslem conqueror, with outside force to fall back upon, might have succeeded; but leo was only shaking the bough on which he sat.[ ] it seems clear that the iconoclastic emperors were politically as well as intellectually progressive in comparison with the orthodox party. the worshipped images which they sought to suppress were artistically worthless, and they aimed at an elevation of the people. "if the iconoclastic reformers had had their way, perhaps the history of the agricultural classes would have been widely different. the abolition of the principle which the first christian emperors had adopted, of nailing men to the clod, was part of the programme which was carried out by the iconoclastic emperors and reversed by their successors."[ ] thus did it come about that christian byzantium found the rigid intellectual equilibrium in which it outlasted, at a lower level of mental life, the caliphate which sought its destruction, but only to fall finally before the more vigorous barbarism of the turks. footnotes: [footnote : whistler, _the gentle art of making enemies_, , pp. , .] [footnote : cp. prof. burrows, _the discoveries in crete_, , ch. xi; bury, _history of greece_, , p. . "the supreme inspiration," says bury, "came to their minstrels on asiatic soil."] [footnote : e. meyer, _geschichte des alterthums_, ii. - ; a.r. hall, _the oldest civilisation of greece_, , pp. , . cp. the author's _short history of freethought_, i, - ; and von ihering's _vorgeschichte der indo-europäer_, eng. trans. ("the evolution of the aryan"), p. . von ihering's dictum is the more noteworthy because it counters his primary assumption of race-characters.] [footnote : cp. galton. _hereditary genius_, ed. , p. . the contrast between the policy of athens, before and after solon, and that of megara, which boasted of never having given the citizenship to any stranger save hercules (wachsmuth, eng. tr. i, ), goes far to explain the inferiority of megarean culture.] [footnote : "no other greek city possessed so large an immediate territory" [as distinct from subject territory, like laconia] "or so great a number of free and equal citizens" (freeman, _history of federal government_, ed. , p. , _note_). and the number was greatly swelled "after athens had in taken the lead in the delian maritime league" (maisch, _greek antiquities_, § ), so that in it was felt necessary again to limit citizenship to men born of athenian parents.] [footnote : cicero (_in verrem_ ii, ) testifies to the zeal of greek cities in buying paintings and statues in his day, and their unwillingness to sell.] [footnote : the result is a marked poverty of power in such sculpture as the persians had. it is in every respect inferior to the assyrian which it copies. see reber, _history of ancient art_, eng. tr. , pp. - .] [footnote : see above, p. .] [footnote : see maspero, _manual of egyptian archæology_, eng. tr. , pp. , , , , , etc.] [footnote : see above, p. .] [footnote : see maspero, as cited, pp. , , , etc., as to the religious influence. m. maspero recognises several movements of renaissance and reaction through the ages.] [footnote : grote, iii, - .] [footnote : cp. haigh, _the tragic drama of the greeks_, , ch. i; miss harrison, _prolegomena to the study of greek religion_, nd ed. , ch. viii.] [footnote : pt. ii, ch. .] [footnote : see holm's suggestion, cited by mahaffy, _problems of greek history_, p. , _note_, as to the value of herodotus to the _traders_ of his day. holm also suggests, however, that the political service rendered by herodotus to the athenians was felt by them to be important, as giving them new light on egypt and the east (eng. tr. ii, , ). the reward paid to herodotus would greatly stimulate further historical research.] [footnote : cp. bury, _history of greece_, pp. , - .] [footnote : the spartan women were indeed reputed the most beautiful, doubtless a result of their healthier life. as for the works of "art" claimed by müller (_the dorians_, ii, - ) for sparta, they are simply objects of utility, and were by his own avowal (p. ) the work of non-spartan laconians, aliens, or slaves, "since no spartan, before the introduction of the achæan constitution, was allowed to follow any trade." no one disputes that other dorian cities, notably sikyon, did much for art--another proof that "race" has nothing to do with the matter.] [footnote : bury, _history of greece_, ed. , p. .] [footnote : cited in strabo, bk. viii, ch. v, § .] [footnote : cp. müller, i, . müller notes that the corinthians were "nearly singular among the doric states" in esteeming trade, their experience of its productiveness "having taught them to set a higher value upon it" (work cited, ii, ).] [footnote : cp. maisch, _manual of greek antiquities_, eng. tr. § ; k.o. müller, _the dorians_, i, , .] [footnote : the native spartans were positively forbidden to go abroad without special leave, nor were strangers permitted to settle there (grote, ii, ; wachsmuth, i, ).] [footnote : grote, iii, , and _note_.] [footnote : cp. dr. mahaffy's remark on post-alexandrian sparta, "where five ignorant old men were appointed to watch the close adherence of the state to the system of a fabulous legislator" (_greek life and thought from the age of alexander to the roman conquest_, , p. ).] [footnote : macaulay, in his youthful review of mitford (_miscellaneous writings_, ed. , p. ), draws up a long indictment against the spartans in the matter of bad faith and meanness. it is only fair to remember that some similar charges can be laid against others of the greek states.] [footnote : grote, ii, . but cp. aristotle (_politics_, ii, ) and plutarch (_lycurgus_, c. ), who agrees with the saying of plato and others (cp. müller, _dorians_, eng. tr. ii, , _note_) that in sparta a free man was most a freeman, and a slave most a slave. and see schömann, _alterthümer_, i, . hume (_on populousness_) cites xenophon, demosthenes, and plautus as proving that slaves were exceptionally well treated at athens, and this is borne out by the athenian comedy in general (cp. maisch, _greek antiquities_, eng. tr. § ). but the fact remains that at athens slaves, male and female, were frequently tortured to make them give evidence against their masters, who in turn were free to kill them for doing so (mahaffy, _social life in greece_, pp. - ). and aristotle takes for granted that they were substantially inferior in character to freemen.] [footnote : cp. finlay, _history of greece_, tozer's ed. i, ; mahaffy, _greek life and thought_, pp. , .] [footnote : fifth century b.c.] [footnote : holm (eng. tr. iv, - ) misses half the problem when he argues that the greek cities under the romans were nearly as free and self-governing as are to-day those of switzerland, the united states, or the german empire. the last-named may perhaps approximate at some points; but in the other cases the moral difference is inexpressible. the greek cities under the romans were _provincialised_, and their inhabitants deprived of the powers of _state_ government which they formerly possessed. their whole outlook on life was changed.] [footnote : cp. finlay, i, .] [footnote : in artistic handicraft, of course, such daily renewal of creative intelligent effort is of great importance to mental health; and the complete lack of it, as in the conventional sculpture of egypt, tells of utter intellectual stagnation. in the least artistic crafts, however, it is not so essential a condition of sound work.] [footnote : cp. mahaffy, _greek life and thought_, pp. , , , - , .] [footnote : the change was not so immediately dependent on the alexandrian régime as droysen implies (_geschichte alexanders des grossen_, te aufl. p. ): the new comedy had been led up to by the middle comedy, which already tended to withdraw from burning questions (cp. k.o. müller, _lit. of ancient greece_, eng. tr. pp. - ); but the movement was clearly hastened.] [footnote : cp. mackintosh, _on the progress of ethical philosophy_, th ed. p. ; lecky, _history of european morals_, th ed. i, .] [footnote : mahaffy, _problems of greek history_, p. ; _survey of greek civilisation_, pp. , , ; _social life in greece_, rd ed. pp. , , . cp. the remark of thirlwall, ch. xii ( st ed. ii, ), that the tyrants "were the natural patrons of the lyrical poets, who cheered their banquets, extolled their success," etc.] [footnote : holm on this head makes an admission (iii, ) which countervails the remark last above cited from him. noting the prosperity of art in asiatic greece, he writes: "art as a rule flourishes--we do not say, reaches its highest point, _for that is impossible without freedom_--where wealth is to be found combined with good taste. and good taste is a gift which even tyrants may possess, and semi-barbarians acquire."] [footnote : professor spalding, _italy and the italian islands_, i, , .] [footnote : k.o. müller, _history of greek literature_, , pp. , .] [footnote : schömann, _griechische alterthümer_, ii, .] [footnote : the questions of the previous expansion under richelieu and mazarin, and of the decay in the latter part of louis's reign, are discussed, _àpropos_ of the _laissez-faire_ argument of buckle, in the author's _buckle and his critics_, pp. - .] [footnote : an interesting corroboration of the above general view was presented in an article on the state of german art in the _century magazine_ for july, . the writer thus described the position of german art under the kaiser's patronage: "moved by the best of intentions, the emperor is not very successful in his efforts to encourage art. they smack too much of personal tastes and one-man power. menzel is perhaps a favourite, not because of his great meissonnier-like skill in illustrations, but because he is the draftsman and painter of the period of frederick the great. the emperor is really honouring his own line rather than the artist when he covers him with rewards.... it is not by making sketches for the knackfusses to carry out that the emperor will raise art in prussia from its present stagnation, but by allowing the dangerous breath of liberty to blow through the art world. the fine arts are under the drill-sergeant, and produce recruits who have everything except art in them. it is too much to say that this is the emperor's fault; but it is true that so long as he insists upon running things artistic, no one else can, or will--and the artists themselves least of all."] [footnote : cp. mill, _liberty_, ch. iii, people's ed. p. .] [footnote : cp. j.s. mill's analysis of "benevolent despotism" in ch. iii of his _representative government_.] [footnote : prof. mahaffy (_greek life and thought_, p. ) attributes the same sense of superiority to the men of the period of the earlier successors of alexander. this could well be, and such a feeling would serve to inspire the great art works of the period in question. cp. thirlwall (vii, ) as to the sense of new growth set up by the commercial developments of the alexandrian world.] [footnote : finlay. _history of greece_, i. . cp. p. .] [footnote : d. bikélas. _seven essays on christian greece_, translated by the marquess of bute, .] [footnote : work cited, p. .] [footnote : work cited, pp. - ; finlay, _history of greece_, iv, - . that this was no christian innovation becomes clear when we compare the status of women in egypt and imperial rome. cp. mahaffy, _greek life and thought_, pp. - . and see his _greek world under roman sway_, p. , as to pre-christian developments.] [footnote : bikélas, p. .] [footnote : ch. , bohn ed. vi, . cp. finlay, ii, , , as to the internal forces of routine.] [footnote : _de bello gothico_, i, . cp. gibbon, ch. , note, bohn ed. v, ; and prof. bury's app. to his ed. of gibbon, iv, .] [footnote : finlay, _history of greece_, i, - ; gibbon, ch. , end.] [footnote : "the degrading feature of the end of the seventh century ... was the ignorant credulity of the richer classes" (bury, _history of the later empire_, ii, ). cp. gibbon, ch. , bohn ed. vi, .] [footnote : cp. bury, as cited, ii, .] [footnote : bury, app. to ed. of gibbon, v, .] chapter ii the saracens while byzantine civilisation thus stagnated, the saracen civilisation for a time actually gained by contact with it, inasmuch as byzantium possessed, if it could not employ, the treasures of old hellenic science and philosophy. the fact that such a fructification of an alien civilisation could take place while the transmitting community showed no similar gain, is tolerably decisive as to _(a)_ the constrictive force of religious systems under certain conditions, and _(b)_ the nullity of the theory of race genius. yet these very circumstances have been made the ground of a preposterous impeachment of the "semitic" character in general, and of the arab in particular. concerning no "race" save the celtic has there been more unprofitable theorising than over the semitic. one continental specialist after another[ ] has explained semitic "faculty" in terms of semitic experience, always to the effect that a nation has a genius for becoming what it becomes, but only when it has become so, since what it does not do it has, by implication, no faculty for doing.[ ] the learned spiegel, for instance, in his work on the antiquities of iran, inexpensively accounts for the jewish opposition to sculpture as a matter of race taste,[ ] without even asking how a practice to which the race was averse had to be forbidden under heavy penalties, or why the same course was held in aryan persia. connecting sculpture with architecture, he pronounces the semites averse to that also; and as regards the undeniable building tendencies of the babylonians, he argues that we know not "how far entirely alien models were imitated by the semites."[ ] only for music does he admit them to have any independent inclination; and their lack of epos and drama as such is explained, not by the virtual inclusion of their epopees and early dramatic writings in their sacred books, and the later tabu on secular literature, but by primordial lack of faculty for epos and drama. the vast development of imaginative fiction in the _arabian nights_ is credited bodily to the "indo-germanic" account, because it has hindu affinities, and took place in persia; and, of course, the semites are denied a mythology, as by m. renan, no question being raised as to what is redacted myth in the sacred books. for the rest, "the semite" is not fitted to shine in science, being in all his branches "almost totally devoid of intellectual curiosity," so that what philosophy and science he has are not "his own"; and he is equally ill-fitted for politics, wherein, having no political idea save that of the family, he oscillates between "unlimited despotism and complete anarchy."[ ] apart from music, his one special faculty is for religion. contemporary anti-semitism may fairly be surmised to underlie in part such performances in pseudo-sociology, which, taken by themselves, set up a depressing suspicion that numbers of deeply learned specialists contrive to spend a lifetime over studies in departments of the history of civilisation without learning wherein the process of civilisation consists. on spiegel's method--which is that of mommsen in dealing with the early culture-history of rome--the germanic nations must be adjudged to be naturally devoid of faculty for art, architecture, drama, philosophy, science, law, and order, since they had none of those things till they got them in the middle ages through the reviving civilisation of the mediterranean and france. and as the greeks certainly received their first impulse to philosophy and science through contact with the survivals of the old semitic civilisations in ionia, they in turn must be pronounced to have "neither a philosophy nor a science of their own"; while the spartans were no less clearly devoid of all faculty for the epic and the drama. it is the method of molière's doctors, with their _virtus dormitivus_ of opium, applied to sociology. the method, nevertheless, is steadily popular, and is no less freely applied to the phenomena of arab retrogression than to those of imperfect development in the semitic life of antiquity, with some edifying results as regards consistency. says a french medical writer:-- "there is no such thing as an original arab medical science. arab medical science was a slavish imitation from the greek. and the same remark is true of all the sciences. the arabs have never been inventors. they are enthusiasts, possessed with a passion for anything new, which renders their enthusiasm itself evanescent. and in consequence of this incapacity for perseverance, they soon forgot the lessons in medical science which they had once acquired from the greeks, and have fallen back into a state of the most absolute ignorance."[ ] the method by which arab defects are here demonstrated from the arrest of arab civilisation is a simple extension of that by which spiegel demonstrates the original deficiencies of the ancient semites, and mommsen the incapacity of the latins to do what they did not do. a certain race or nation, having at one time attained a considerable degree of civilisation, and afterwards lost it, is held to have thus shown a collective incapacity for remembering what "it" or "they" had learned. the "they" here is the correlative of m. taine's "we"--a pseud-entity, entirely self-determining and strictly homogeneous. the racial misfortune is set down to a fault pervading the whole national character or intellect, and peculiar to it in comparison with other national characters. conditions count for nothing; totality of inherited character, acting _in vacuo_, is at once the summary and the judgment. anyone who has followed the present argument with any assent thus far will at once grant the futility of such doctrine. "the arabs" had neither more nor less collective faculty of appreciation and oblivion than any other equally homogeneous people at the same culture-stage. it is quite true that they had not an "original medical science." but neither have any other historical "they" ever had such. the greeks certainly had not. the beginnings of medical knowledge for all mankind lay of necessity in the primeval lore of the savage; and the nations which carried it furthest in antiquity were just those who learned what others had to give, and improved upon it. the greeks must have learned from asia, from egypt,[ ] from phoenicia; and the romans learned from the greeks. the arabs, coming late into the sphere of the higher civilisation, and crossing their stock in the east with those of persia, in the west with the already much-mixed stocks of spain, passed quite as rapidly as the greeks had done from the stage of primitive thought in all things to one of comparative rationality as regards medicine and the exact sciences; and this not in virtue of any special "enthusiasm" for new ideas, but by the normal way of gradual collection of observations and reflection upon them, in communities kept alert by variety of intercourse, and sufficiently free on the side of the intellectual life. such was the state of the saracens in persia and spain in the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries; and their social evolution before and after is all a matter of natural sequence, not proceeding upon any peculiarity of collective character, but representing the normal reactions of character at a given culture-stage in special political circumstances. what is peculiar to the saracen civilisation is its sudden origin (taking islam as a history by itself)[ ] under conditions reached elsewhere only as climax in a long evolution. the rise of islam has the twofold aspect of a barbarian campaign of plunder and a crusade of fanaticism; and though the prospect and the getting of plunder were needed to ripen the fanaticism to full bloom,[ ] the latter was ultimately a part of the cementing force that turned a horde into a community. the great facilitating conditions for both were the feeble centralised system maintained by the christianised empire, and the disintegrating force of christianity as a sectarian ferment. in egypt, for instance, the hatred between rival schools of christian metaphysic secured for the arabs an unresisted entrance into alexandria.[ ] it needed only a few generations of contact with higher culture in a richer environment to put the saracens, as regards art and science, very much on a level with the stagnating byzantines; and where the latter, possessed of their scientific and philosophical classics, but imprisoned by their religion, made no intellectual progress whatever, the former, on the same stimulus, progressed to a remarkable degree. there has been much dispute as to the exact measure of their achievements; but three things are clear: ( ) that they carried the mathematics of astronomy beyond the point at which it had been left by the greeks; ( ) that they laid the foundations of chemistry; and( ) that they intelligently carried on surgery and medicine when the byzantines, having early in the christian period destroyed the asklepions, which were in some degree the schools of the medicine of antiquity, had sunk to the level of using prayers and incantations and relics as their regular means of cure. curiously enough, too, the saracens had the merit, claimed for the byzantines, of letting their women share rather freely in their culture of all kinds.[ ] what is more, the later saracens of spain, whatever the measure of their own scientific progress, were without question a great seminal force in the civilisation of western christendom, which drew from them its beginnings in mathematics, philosophy, chemistry, astronomy, and medicine, and to some extent even in literature[ ] and architecture,[ ] to say nothing of the effect on the useful arts of the contact of the crusaders with the saracens of the east. as to arab medicine, see withington, as cited, pp. , ; and sprengel, _history of medicine_, french tr. vol. ii ( ), pp. - --a passage which contradicts sprengel's previous disparagements. compare p. . the _histoire particulière_ in this chapter (v of sect. ) generally countervails the hostile summaries. sprengel proceeded on the prejudice (i, ) that there was no "rational science" anywhere before the greeks; as if there were not many irrational elements in the science not only of the greeks but of the moderns. a much better qualified historian of arab medicine, dr. lucien leclerc, writes (_histoire de la médecine arabe_, , i, ) that in the eleventh century "the medical productions [of the arabs] continue to develop an independent aspect, and have already a certain stamp of originality. already the arabs feel themselves rich on their own footing. we see appearing certain writings not less remarkable for the novelty of the form than for the value of the substance." again, dr. ernst von meyer, the historian of chemistry, sums up (_hist. of chemistry_, m'gowan's tr. nd ed. p. ), that "the germs of chemical knowledge attained to a marvellous growth among the arabians." it may be noted that there is record of a hospital in bagdad at the beginning of the ninth century, and that there were many there in the tenth (leclerc, i, ). a rational argument is brought against semitic "faculty" by dr. cunningham, it should be admitted, in the contention that the phoenicians figured poorly as copyists of greek art (_western civilisation_, p. , following renan). but this argument entirely ignores the element of time that is needed to develop any art in any civilisation. the phoenician civilisation was overthrown before it had time to assimilate greek art developments, which themselves were the work of centuries even in a highly favourable set of conditions. nöldeke, though less unscientific than spiegel, partly follows him in insisting that phoenician architecture copied egyptian, and that the later semites copied the greek, as if the greeks in turn had not had predecessors and guides. starting with the fixed fallacy that the semites were "one-sided," he reasons in a circle to the effect that their one-sidedness was "highly prejudicial to the development of science," while compelled to admit the importance of the work of the babylonians in astronomy. (_sketches from eastern history_, eng. tr. pp. - .) it is now current doctrine that "for nearly eight centuries, under her mohammedan rulers, spain set to all europe a shining example of a civilised and enlightened state. her fertile provinces, rendered doubly prolific by the industry and engineering skill of her conquerors, bore fruit an hundredfold. cities innumerable sprang up in the rich valleys of the guadalquivir and the guadiana.... art, literature, and science prospered as they prospered nowhere else in europe. students flocked from france and germany and england to drink from the fountain of learning which flowed only in the cities of the moors. the surgeons and doctors of andalusia were in the van of science; women were encouraged to devote themselves to serious study; and the lady doctor was not unknown among the people of cordova. mathematics, astronomy and botany, history[?], philosophy and jurisprudence[?] were to be mastered in spain, and spain alone. the practical work of the field, the scientific methods of irrigation, the arts of fortification and shipbuilding, the highest and most elaborate products of the loom, the graver and the hammer, the potter's wheel and the mason's trowel, were brought to perfection by the spanish moors." see stanley lane-poole, _the moors in spain_, pref. it could be wished that mr. lane-poole had given english readers, as he so well could, a study of saracen civilisation, instead of a "story of the nation" on the old lines. for corroboration of the passage see dozy, _histoire des musulmans d'espagne_, , iii, , ; prescott, _history of ferdinand and isabella_, kirk's ed. , pp. - , , - ; draper, _intellectual development of europe_, ed. , ii, - ; sismondi, _historical view of the literature of the south of europe_, eng. tr. i, - , - , - , . cp. seignobos, _histoire de la civilisation au moyen age_, e éd. pp. - ; gebhart, _origines de la renaissance en italie_, , pp. - ; bosworth smith, _mohammed and mohammedanism_, nd ed. pp. , ; nöldeke, as cited, p. ; bouterwek, as cited, i, ; baden-powell, _history of natural philosophy_, , pp. - ; u.r. burke, _history of spain_, hume's ed. , vol. i, ch. . all this being so, the course of deciding that the arabs retrogressed because "they" were impatient and discontinuous is on a level with the thesis that nature has a horror of a vacuum. the arab civilisation was arrested and anchylosed by forces which in other civilisations operated in exactly the same modes. the first great trouble was the element of perpetual domestic strife, which was uncured by the monarchic system, since every succession was liable to dispute. under such conditions just government could not flourish; and moslem taxation always tended to be suicidally unscrupulous.[ ] disputes of succession, indeed, wrought hardly more strife among the saracens than has taken place among greeks and romans, and christians of all nations, down to modern times; even the ecclesiastical and feudal doctrine of legitimacy, developed by the latin and greek churches, having failed to prevent dynastic wars in christendom. but the saracens, neighboured everywhere by christians who bore them a twofold hostility, had peculiar need of union, and ran special risks from dissension; and in spain their disunion was their ruin. at the same time their civilisation was strangled intellectually by a force which, though actually in operation in christendom also, was there sufficiently countered by a saving condition which the saracens finally lacked. the force of constriction was the cult of the sacred book; the counteracting force in christendom was diversity and friction of governments and cultures--a condition which passed out of the saracen equation. how fatally restrictive the cult of the completed sacred book can be is obvious in the history of byzantium. it was in terms of the claims of the christian creed that the eastern emperors proscribed pagan philosophy and science, reducing the life of the whole eastern world as far as possible to one rigid and unreasoned code. that the mental life of italy and france was relatively progressive even in the middle ages was substantially due--( ) to saracen stimulus, and ( ) to the friction and ferment set up by the diversity of life in the italian republics, and the italian and french and german universities. byzantium was in comparison a china or an egypt. the saving elements of political diversity, culture competition, and culture contact have in later europe completed the frustration of the tendency of church, creed, and bible to destroy alike science and philosophy. in islam, on the other hand, the arresting force finally triumphed over the progressive because of the social and political conditions. ( ) the political field, though stormy, finally lacked diversity in terms of the universality of the monarchic principle, which was imposed by the military basis and bound up with the creed: uniformity of ideal was thus furthered. ( ) there was practically no fresh culture contact possible after the assimilation of the remains of greek science and the stimulus of jewish philosophy; for medieval christendom had no culture to give; and the more thoroughly the papacy and the christian monarchy in spain were organised, the more hostile they grew to the moors. ( ) the economic stimulus among the latter tended to be restricted more and more to the religious class, till that class was able to suppress all independent mental activity. the last is the salient circumstance. in any society, the special cultivation of serious literature and the arts and sciences depends on one or more of three conditions--(_a_) the existence of a cultured class living on unearned incomes, as in ancient athens, middle rome, and modern england and france; (_b_) public expenditure on art and culture, as in ancient athens, renaissance italy and modern france, and in the german university system _par excellence_; or (_c_) the personal concern of princes and other patrons to encourage ability. in the nature of the case it was mainly on this last and most precarious stimulus that saracen culture depended. taking it at its zenith, under such rulers as haroun alraschid and el-mamoun at bagdad, and abderrahman iii and hakam ii of cordova, we find its advance always more or less dependent on the bounty of the caliph; and even if, like abderrahman and his son hakam, he founded all manner of public and free schools, it depended on the bias of his successors rather than on public opinion or municipal custom whether the movement should continue. abderrahman's achievement, seen even through christian eyes, was so manifold as to constitute him one of the great rulers of all history; but the task of making moorish civilisation permanent was one which no series of such statesmen could have compassed. the natural course of progress would have been through stable monarchy to constitutionalism. but christian barbarism, with its perpetual assault, kept the saracens forever at the stage of active militarism, which is the negation of constitutionalism; and their very refinement was a political danger, no less than their dynastic strifes. on the other hand, the continuous stress of militarism was in ordinary course much more favourable to fanaticism than to free thought; and to fanaticism the koran, like the bible, was and is a perpetual stimulant. it was as a militant faith that islam maintained itself; and in such a civilisation the sacred book, which claimed to be the highest of all lore, and was all the while so easy a one, giving to ignorance and conceit the consciousness of supreme knowledge without any mental discipline whatever, was sure of abundant devotees.[ ] in an uninstructed community--and of course the mass of the saracen population was uninstructed[ ]--the cult of the sacred book needs no special endowment; it can always be depended on to secure revenues for itself, even as may the medicine-man in an african tribe. to this day the propagation of the koran is subscribed for in turkey as the bible society is subscribed to among ourselves, ignorance earning thus the felicity of prescribing for human welfare in the mass, and at the same time propitiating omnipotence, at the lowest possible outlay of study and reflection. enthusiasms which can thus flourish in the twentieth century were of course abundant in the ninth, tenth, and eleventh;[ ] and thus we find that when a caliph was suspected by the pietists of caring too little for their lore, he ran the risk of being rebelled against with a speed and zeal in the ratio of their conviction of divine knowledge. islam, unlike the state churches of greece, rome, and england, has democratic rootage in the practice of setting ordinary laymen to recite the prayers and preach the sermons in the mosques: it, in fact, resembles methodism more than any of the established christian churches in respect of its blending of clerisy and laity. such a system, when thoroughly fanaticised, has enormous powers of turbulence; and in moorish spain we find them early exercised. abderrahman i, whose policy of tolerance towards jews and christians transcended all previous christian practice, and thus won for his realm a great stimulus in the way of variety of culture-elements and of industry, had kept the religious class in due control; but his well-meaning son hisham was priest-ridden to the last degree; and when his successor hakam showed an indisposition to patronise pietists to the same extent they raised revolt after revolt ( - ), all put down by massacre. mr. lane-poole notes (p. ) the interesting fact that the theologers were largely of spanish stock, the natives having in general embraced islam. thus the fanaticism of the berbers was reinforced by that of the older population, which, as buckle showed, was made abnormally devout, not by inheritance of character, but by the constant effect of terrorising environment, in the form of earthquakes. the elements of the situation remained fundamentally unchanged; and when the moorish military power began to feel more and more the pressure of the strengthening christian foe, it lay in the nature of the case that the fanatical species should predominate. the rationalistic and indifferent types would figure as the enemies of their race, very much as such types would have done in covenanting scotland. at length, in the eleventh century, the weakened moorish princes had to call in the aid of the fanatical almoravides from barbary; and these, with the full support of the priesthood and the pious, established themselves at the head of affairs, reducing everything as far as possible to the standards of the eighth century.[ ] and when the new barbarism in time grew corrupt, as that of the goths and vandals had done in earlier ages, the "unitarian" almohades in turn (twelfth century) overthrew the almoravides in spain as they had already done in africa, only to be themselves overthrown a hundred years later by the christians. thereafter the curtailed moorish power, pent up in southern spain, reverted to the spirit of fanaticism which national failure generates in religious minds; and from the thirteenth century to the final overthrow at the end of the fifteenth the intellectual life of saracen spain was but a long stagnation. a civilisation driven back on superstition and fanaticism[ ] thus gave way to a revived barbarism, which itself, after a few centuries of power, was arrested in its progress by the same order of forces, and has ever since remained in the rear of european development. a remarkable exception, indeed, is to be noted in the case of ibn khaldun ( - ), who in the narrow world of tunis attained to a grasp of the science of history such as no christian historian up to his time had remotely approached.[ ] such an intellectual phenomenon sufficiently disposes of the current formulas about the innate incapacities of "the semitic mind." but whether it were that he dared not say what he thought of the fatal influence of the sacred book, or that on that side he was really, as he is ostensibly, quite uncritical, khaldun fails, in his telling survey of arab decadence, to set forth the decisive condition of intellectual arrest; and his luminous impeachment of the civilisation of his race failed to enlighten it. in persia the same forces wrought closely similar results. the greek stimulus, after working wonders in science and rational thought, failed to sustain a society that could not politically evolve beyond despotism; and economic evil and intellectual decay together undermined the empire of the caliphs,[ ] till the turks could overrun it as the christians did moorish spain; they themselves, however, adding no new culture developments, because under them no new culture contacts were possible. of the moslem civilisation as a whole, it must be said that on the material side, in spain and the east, it was such a success as had not been attained under the romans previously (though it was exceeded in egypt by the lagids), and has not been reached in christian spain since the fall of boabdil. economically, the moorish regimen was sound and stable in comparison with that of imperial spain, which, like rome, merely set up a factitious civilisation on the basis of imported bullion and provincial tribute, and decayed industrially while nominally growing in empire and power. when the history of spain from the seventeenth century onward is compared with that of the saracens up to their overthrow, the nullity of explanations in terms of race qualities becomes sufficiently plain--unless, indeed, it is argued that moorish blood is the secret of spanish decadence. but that surmise too is folly. spanish decadence is a perfectly simple sociological sequence;[ ] and a spanish renascence is not only conceivable, but likely, under conditions of free science and free thought. nor is it on the whole less likely that the arab stock will in time to come contribute afresh and largely to civilisation. the one element which can finally distinguish one race from another--acquired physiological adaptation to a given climate--marks the arab races as best fitted for the recovery of great southern and eastern regions which, once enormously productive, have since the fall of the roman and byzantine empires been reduced to sterility and poverty. the greeks in their recovered fatherland, and the french in algeria, have not thus far been much more successful than the turks in developing material prosperity. if north africa, syria, and mesopotamia are again to be rich and fruitful lands, it must be in the hands of an acclimatised race; and the arab stocks are in this regard among the most eligible. but there is no reason why the turks should not share in such a renascence.[ ] their incivilisation is no more a matter of race character than the decline of the moors or the backwardness of the spaniards: it is the enforced result of the attitude of special enmity taken up towards the turkish intruders from the first by all their christian neighbours. by sheer force of outside pressure, co-operating with the sinister sway of the sacred book, turkey has been kept fanatical, barbarous, uncultured, utterly militarist, and therefore financially misgoverned. the moral inferiority of the long-oppressed christian peoples of the levant, whose dishonesty was till lately proverbial, was such as to strengthen the moslem in the conceit of superiority; while the need to maintain a relatively great military force as against dangerous neighbours has been for him a check upon all endowment of culture. to change all this, it needs that either force or prudence should so modify the system of government as to give freer course to industry and ideas; that the military system should be restricted; and that european knowledge should be brought to bear on education, till the fettering force of religion is frustrated, as in the progressive countries of christendom. for turkey and spain, for moslems and for christians, the laws of progress and decadence are the same; and if only the more fortunate peoples can learn to help instead of hindering the backward, realising that every civilisation is industrially and intellectually an aid to every other, the future course of things may be blessedly different from that of the past. but the closest students of the past will doubtless be as a rule slow to predict such a transformation.[ ] footnotes: [footnote : cp. the author's criticism of dr. pulszky, in _buckle and his critics_, p. .] [footnote : thus milman decides that the mahommedan civilisation is "the highest, it should seem, _attainable_ by the asiatic _type of mind_" (_latin christianity_, th ed. ii, ). this in the century which was to witness the renascence of japan.] [footnote : _erânische alterthumskunde_, , i, .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _erânische alterthumskunde_, p. .] [footnote : dr. daremberg, writing on cairo, "impressions médicales," in the _journal des débats_, december , , quoted by the k. bikélas, as cited, tr. p. . cp. renan's language as to "l'_esprit_ sémitique, sans étendue, sans diversité, sans arts plastiques, sans philosophie, sans mythologie, sans _vie politique_, sans progrès" (_Études d'histoire religieuse_, , p. ).] [footnote : this has been disputed; cp. berdoe, _origin of the healing art_, , p. ; withington, _medical history from the earliest times_, , pp. - . but the greeks could hardly have resorted to the egyptians so much as they admittedly did for mathematical and astronomical teaching in the early period without learning something of their medicine. cp. berdoe, bk. ii, ch. i, and kenrick, _ancient egypt_, , i, - , as to egyptian medicine. the passage in the _odyssey_, iv, - , is decisive as to its repute in early greece. certainly it was stationary, like everything egyptian. whether the indian and egyptian medicine found "neue bedeutung" in greek hands, after the fresh contacts made under alexander, as is claimed by droysen (_geschichte alexanders des grossen_, te aufl. pp. - ), is another question.] [footnote : as to the inferred development of pre-islamic civilisation in arabia, see deutsch, _literary remains_, pp. , , , , ; and nöldeke, _sketches from eastern history_, eng. tr. pp. , .] [footnote : the first islamites, apart from the inner circle, were the least religious. see renan, _Études d'histoire religieuse_, pp. - ; and van vloten, _recherches sur la domination arabe_, amsterdam, , pp. , , , . nöldeke (p. ) speaks in the conventional way of the "wonderful intellectual outburst" which made possible the early triumphs of islam. the case is really on all fours with that of the french revolution--"_la carrière ouverte aux talens_." cp. milman, _latin christianity_, th ed. ii, , as to the readiness with which the followers of moseilama turned to mahommedanism.] [footnote : see above, p. , _note_ .] [footnote : prescott, _history of ferdinand and isabella_, kirk's ed. , pp. , .] [footnote : cp. bouterwek, _history of spanish and portuguese literature_, eng. tr. , i, , and sismondi, _literature of the south of europe_, eng. tr. i, , , , - . as to arabic study of linguistics, cp. nöldeke, p. .] [footnote : cp. testa, _history of the war of frederick i. upon the communes of lombardy_, eng. tr. p. .] [footnote : van vloten, _recherches sur la domination arabe_, amsterdam, , pp. - .] [footnote : as to the religious zeal of the berbers in the way of moslem dissent, on all fours with the phenomena of protestantism, see lane-poole, as cited, p. .] [footnote : dozy (_histoire des musulmans d'espagne_, , iii, ) decides that "in andalusia nearly everyone could read and write"; but even if this were true, which is very doubtful (seeing that on the same page the historian tells how hakam founded twenty-three free schools for the children of the poor in cordova), the reading would be almost solely confined to the koran.] [footnote : the mere preaching and miracle-working of the marabouts among the berbers set up successively the movements of the fatimites, the almoravides, and the almohades (lane-poole, p. ).] [footnote : concerning the intolerance of this reaction, see dozy, iii, - . cp. iii, - , as to the normal fanaticism of the moorish populace.] [footnote : see dozy, iii, , as to the general lapse from rationalism to faith.] [footnote : see the whole estimate of prof. flint, _history of the philosophy of history_, , pp. - .] [footnote : cp. dugat, _histoire des philosophes et des théologiens mussulmans_, , pp. - ; freeman, _history and conquests of the saracens_, p. ; and the author's _short history of freethought_, nd. ed. i, - , - .] [footnote : see it discussed in _a short history of freethought_, nd. ed. i, ch. x, § ; ii, _sq._ and see below, pt. v, ch. iv. § .] [footnote : this was written before .] [footnote : deutsch, however (_literary remains_, p. ), predicted it with confidence.] chapter iii rome the culture conditions of rome seem to cause no perplexity even to those who find greek civilisation a mystery. they are certainly obvious enough. by reason of the primary natural direction of roman life to plunder and conquest, with a minimum of commerce and peaceful contacts, roman culture was as backward as that of greece was forward. the early etruscan culture having been relegated to the status of archæology, however respectfully treated,[ ] and the popular language having become that of all classes, the republican period had to begin again at the beginning. latin literature practically commenced in the third century b.c., when that of greece was past its meridian; and the fact that lucius andronicus and nævius, the early playwrights, were men of greek culture, and that ennius translated the greek rationalist evêmeros (euhêmeros), point to the hellenic origins of rome's intellectual life. her first art, on the other hand, was substantially derived from the etruscans, who also laid the simple beginnings of the roman drama, later built upon under greek influence. but even with the etruscan stimulus--itself a case of arrested development--the art went no great way before the conquest of greece; and even under greek stimulus the literature was progressive for only two centuries, beginning to decline as soon as the empire was firmly established. of the relative poverty of early roman art, the cause is seen even by mommsen to lie partly in the religious environment, religion being the only incentive which at that culture stage could have operated (and this only with economic fostering); but the nature of the religious environment he implicitly sets down as usual to the character of the race,[ ] as contrasted with the character of the greeks. obviously it is necessary to seek a reason for the religious conditions to begin with; and this is to be found in the absence from early rome of exactly those natural and political conditions which made greece so manifold in its culture. we have seen how, where greece was divided into a score of physically "self-contained" states, no one of which could readily overrun the others, rome was placed on a natural career of conquest; and this at a culture stage much lower than that of ionic greece of the same period. manifold and important culture contacts there must have been for hellenes before the homeric poems were possible; but rome at the beginning of the republican period was in contact only with the other italic tribes, the phoenicians, the grecian cities, and the etruscans; and with these her relations were hostile. in early ionia, again, greek poetry flourished as a species of luxury under a feudal system constituted by a caste of rich nobles who had acquired wealth by conquest of an old and rich civilisation. roman militarism began in agricultural poverty; and the absorption of the whole energies of the group in warfare involved the relegation of the arts of song and poetry to the care of the women and boys, as something beneath adult male notice.[ ] roman religion in the same way was left as a species of archæology to a small group of priests and priestly aristocrats, charged to observe the ancient usages. it would thus inevitably remain primitive--that is, it would remain at a stage which the greeks had mostly passed at the homeric period; and when wealth and leisure came, greek culture was there to over-shadow it. to say that the latins racially lacked the mythopoeic faculty is to fall back on the old plan of explaining phenomena in terms of themselves. as a matter of fact, the mere number of deities, of personified forces, in the roman mythology is very large,[ ] only there is lacking the embroidery of concrete fiction which gives vividness to the mythology of the greeks. the romans relatively failed to develop the mythopoeic faculty because their conditions caused them to energise more in other ways.[ ] there is, however, obvious reason to believe that among the italian peoples there was at one time a great deal more of myth than has survived.[ ] what is preserved is mainly fragments of the mythology of one set of tribes, and that in only a slightly developed form. all the other italic peoples had been subdued by the romans before any of them had come into the general use of letters;[ ] and instead of being put in a position to develop their own myths and cults, or to co-ordinate the former in the greek fashion, they were absorbed in the roman system, which took their gods to its pantheon, and at the same time imposed on them those of rome. much of their mythic lore would thus perish, for the literate romans had not been concerned to cultivate even their own. early roman life being divided between war and agriculture, and there being no free literary class to concern itself with the embellishment of the myths, there subsisted only the simple myths and rituals of agriculture and folklore, the numerous list of personified functions connected with all the phases of life, and the customary ceremonial of augury and invocation in war. the augurs and pontifices were the public men and statesmen, and they made religion a state function. what occult lore there was they made a class monopoly--an effectual preventive in itself of a hellenic development of myth. apart from the special sets or colleges of priests there were specially appointed colleges of religio-archæological specialists--first, the six augurs and the five _pontifices_, then the _duoviri sacris faciundis_, afterwards increased to ten and to fifteen, who collected greek oracles and saw to the sibylline books; later the twenty _fetiales_ or heralds, and so on. "these colleges have been often, but erroneously, confounded with the priesthoods. the priesthoods were charged with the worship of a specific divinity; the skilled colleges, on the other hand, were charged with the preservation of traditional rules regarding the more general religious observances.... these close corporations supplying their own vacancies, of course from the ranks of the burgesses, became in this way the depositaries of skilled arts and sciences."[ ] religion being thus for centuries so peculiarly an official matter of settled tradition, no unauthorised myth-maker could get a hearing. even what was known would be kept as far as possible a corporation secret,[ ] as indeed were some of the mystery practices in egypt and greece. but whereas in greece the art of sculpture, once introduced, was stimulated by and reacted on mythology in every temple in every town, the rigid limitation of early roman public life to the business of war would on that side have closed the door on sculpture,[ ] even if it could otherwise have found entrance. the check laid on the efflorescence of the religious instinct was a double check on the efflorescence of art. the net result is described with some exaggeration by an eminent mythologist, in a passage which reduces to something like unity of idea the tissues of contradiction spun by mommsen:-- for the latins their gods, although their name was legion, remained mysterious beings without forms, feelings, or passions; and they influenced human affairs without sharing or having any sympathy with human hopes, fears, or joys. neither had they, like the greek deities, any society among themselves. there was for them no olympos where they might gather and take counsel with the father of gods and men. they had no parentage, no marriage, no offspring. they thus became a mere multitude of oppressive beings, living beyond the circle of human interests, yet constantly interfering with it; and their worship was thus as terrible a bondage as any under which the world has yet suffered. not being associated with any definite bodily shapes, they could not, like the beautiful creations of the greek mind, promote the growth of the highest art of the sculptor, the painter, and the poet.[ ] it is necessary here to make some corrections and one expansion. the statement as to parentage, marriage, and offspring is clearly wrong. cox here follows keightley, whose pre-scientific view is still common. keightley admits that the early latin gods and goddesses occur in pairs, as saturn and ops, janus and jana; and that they were called _patres_ and _matres_.[ ] to assert after this that they were never thought of as generating offspring, merely because the bulk of the old folk-mythology is lost, is to ascribe uncritically to the latins an abstention from the most universal forms of primitive myth-making. the proposition as to "terrible bondage," again, cannot stand historically; for, to say nothing of the religions of mexico and palestine, and some of those of india, the roman life was certainly much less darkened by creed than has been that of many christian countries, for instance protestant scotland and catholic spain. [m. boissier (_la religion romaine_, i, ) decided that the romans were religiously ruled more by fear than hope, and that their worship consisted chiefly of "timid supplications and rigorous expiations." mommsen, on the other hand (ch. xii, p. ), pronounces that "the latin religion was grounded mainly on man's enjoyment of earthly pleasures." both statements would be equally true of all ancient religions. compare m. boissier's later remarks, pp. - , , , wherein he contradicts himself as does mommsen.] as regards, again, the failure of the early latin pantheon to stimulate sculpture and poetry, it has to be noticed that sculpture and poetry tended to make as well as to be made by mythology in greece. the argument against the latin pantheon is in fact an argument in a circle. if the latin gods were not "associated with any definite bodily shapes" (parentage, marriage, and offspring they certainly _had_), it could only be when and _because_ they were not yet sculptured. greek gods before they were sculptured would be conceived just as variably. were _they_ then thought of as formless? the proposition is strictly inconceivable. latin gods must have been imagined very much as were and are those of other barbarous races, who are notoriously thought of as having sex, form, and passions. greek mythology simply reached the art stage sooner. the cults of hellas did not start with a mythology full-blown, thereby creating the arts; the mythology grew step by step with and in the arts, in a continuous mutual reaction; many greek myths being really tales framed to explain the art-figures of other mythologies, egyptian and asiatic. thus the primitive bareness of the latin mythology signifies not a natural saplessness which could give no increase to art, but ( ) loss of lore and ( ) a lack of the artistic and literary factors which record and stimulate higher mythologic growth. thus limited in their native culture, the roman upper class were inevitably much affected by higher foreign cultures when they met these under conditions of wealth and leisure. long before that stage, indeed, they consulted greek oracles and collected responses; and they had informally assimilated before the conquest a whole series of greek gods without giving them public worship.[ ] the very goddess of the early latin league, the aventine diana, was imaged by a copy of artemis of ephesus, the goddess of the ionian league.[ ] as time went on the more psychologically developed cults of the east were bound to attract the romans of all classes. what of religious emotion there was in the early days must have played in large part around the worship which the state left free to the citizens as individuals--the worship of the _lares_ and _penates_, the cults of the hearth and the family; and in this connection the primitive mythopoeic instinct must have evolved a great deal of private mythology which never found its way into literature. but as the very possession of _lares_ and _penates_, ancestral and domestic spirits, was originally a class privilege, not shared by the landless and the homeless, these had step by step to be made free of public institutions of a similar species--the _lares praestites_ of the whole city, festally worshipped on the first day of may, and other _lares publici_, _rurales_, _compitales_, _viales_, and so on--just as they were helped to bread. even these concessions, however, failed to make the old system suffice for the transforming state; and individual foreign worships with a specific attraction were one by one inevitably introduced--that of Æsculapius in the year b.c., in a panic about pestilence; that of cybele, the mother of the gods, in : both by formal decision of the senate. the manner of the latter importation is instructive. beginning the hannibalic war in a spirit of religious patriotism, the senate decreed the destruction of the temples of the alien isis and serapis.[ ] but as the war went on, and the devotion shown to the native gods was seen to be unrewarded, the senate themselves, yielding to the general perturbation which showed itself in constant resort to foreign rites by the women,[ ] prescribed resort to the greek sacrificial rites of apollo.[ ] later they called in the cult of cybele from phrygia;[ ] and other cults informally, but none the less irresistibly, followed. in all such steps two forces were at work--the readiness of the plebeians to welcome a foreign religion in which the patricians had, as it were, no vested rights; and the tendency of the more plastic patricians themselves, especially the women, to turn to a worship with emotional attractions. when the plebeians sought admission for their class to the higher offices of state, they were told with unaffected seriousness that their men had not the religious qualifications--they lacked the hereditary gift of reading auspices, the lore of things sacred.[ ] so, when they did force entrance, their alleged blunders in these matters were exclaimed against as going far to ruin the republic. this was not a way to make the populace revere the national religion; and as the population of foreign race steadily increased by conquest and enslavement, alien cults found more and more hold. "it was always in the popular quarters of the city that these movements began."[ ] the first great unofficial importation seems to have been the orgiastic worship of dionysos, who specially bore for the romans his epithet of bacchus, and was identified with their probably aboriginal _liber_. this worship, carried on in secret assemblies, was held by the conservatives to be a hotbed of vice and crime, and was, according to livy, bloodily punished (b.c. ). so essentially absurd, however, is livy's childish narrative that it is impossible to take anything in it for certain save the bare fact that the worship was put under restrictions, as tending to promote secret conspiracies.[ ] but from this time forward, roughly speaking, rome may be said to have entered into the mythological heritage of greece, even as she did into her positive treasure of art work and of oriental gold. every cult of the conquered mediterranean world found a footing in the capital, the mere craving for new sensations among the upper class being sufficient to overcome their political bias to the old system. it is clear that when augustus found scores of roman temples in disrepair after the long storms of the civil wars, it was not that "religion" was out of vogue, but that it was superseded by what the romans called "superstition"--something extraneous, something over and above the public system of rites and ceremonies. in point of fact, the people of rome were in the mass no longer of roman stock, but a collection of many alien races, indifferent to the indigenous cults. the emperor's restorations could but give a subsidised continuity to the official services: what vitally flourished were the cults which ministered to the new psychological needs of a population more and more divorced from great public interests, and increasingly alien in its heredity--the stimulant and hysterical worships of adonis, of attis, of the lover goddess coupled with the first, or the mourning mother goddess with the second, of isis and osiris and their child--rituals of alternate lamentation and rejoicing, of initiations, austerities, confessions, penances, self-abasement, and the promise of immortality. on the general soil of devotion thus formed, there finally grew up side by side mithraism and christianity, the rival religions of the decadence, of which the second triumphed in virtue of having by far the larger number of adaptations to its environment. but while rome was thus at length fully possessed by the spirit of religious imagination which had so fruitfully stirred the art of greece, there ensued no new birth of faculty. it was with the arts as with literature: the stimulus from greece was received by a society rapidly on the way to that social state which in greece had choked the springs of progress. in the last generations of the republic the literary development was markedly rapid. in the century which saw rome, after a terrific struggle, victorious over carthage and prepared for the grapple with macedon, the first practitioners of literature were playwrights, or slaves, or clients of great men, or teachers like ennius, who could find in the now leisured and in part intelligent or at least inquisitive upper class a sufficient encouragement to a literary career. that class did not want recitals of the crude folklore of their fathers, so completely eclipsed by that of greece, which was further associated with the literary form of drama, virtually new to the romans.[ ] drama, always the form of literature which can best support itself, is the form most cultivated down till the period of popular abasement and civil convulsion, though of a dozen dramatists we have only plautus and terence left in anything like completeness; and while the tragedy of pacuvius and attius was unquestionably an imitation of the greek, it may have had in its kind as much merit as the comedies that have been preserved. even more rapid than the development, however, is the social gangrene that kills the popular taste; for when we reach the time of augustus there is no longer a literary drama, save perhaps for the small audiences of the wooden theatres, and the private performances of amateurs;[ ] parades and pantomimes alone can attract the mindless multitude; and the era of autocrats begins on well-laid foundations of ignorance and artificial incivilisation. as with the literature of the people, so with that of the lettered class. in the last generation of freedom, we have in lucretius and catullus two of the great poets of all antiquity, compared with whose forceful inspiration virgil and horace already begin to seem sicklied o'er with the pale cast of decline. thenceforth the glory begins to die away; and though the red blade of juvenal is brandished with a hand of power, and lucan clangs forth a stern memorial note, and petronius sparkles with a sinister brilliancy, there is no mistaking the downward course of things under cæsarism. it is true we find juvenal complaining that only the emperor does anything for literature:-- et spes et ratio studiorum in caesare tantum. solus enim tristes hac tempestate camoenas respexit.[ ] it is the one word of praise he ever gives to the autocrat, be it domitian or another; and the commentators decide that only at the beginning of domitian's reign would it apply. in effect, the satire is a description of the roman upper class as grown indifferent to poetry, or to any but their own. but it is not on the economic side that the autocracy and the aristocracy of the empire are to be specially indicted. the economic difficulty was very much the same under the republic, when only by play-writing could literary men as such make a living. as juvenal goes on to say, horace when he cried evohe was well fed, and if virgil had lacked slave and lodging the serpents would have been lacking to the fury's hair, and the tongueless trumpet have sounded nothing great. lucretius, catullus, and virgil were all inheritors of a patrimony; and horace needed first an official post and later a patron's munificence to enable him to live as a poet. the mere sale of their books could not possibly have supported any one of them, so low were prices kept by the small demand.[ ] what was true of the poets was still truer of the historians. thus in the republic as in the empire, the men of letters, apart from the playwrights, tended to be drawn solely from the small class with inherited incomes. the curse of the empire was that even when the sanest emperors, as the antonines, sought to endow studies,[ ] they could not buy moral or intellectual energy. the senate of poltroons who crouched before the neros and caligulas were the upper-class version of the population which lived by bread and the circus; and in that air neither great art nor great thought could breathe. roman sculpture is but enslaved greek sculpture taken into pay; latin literature ceases to be roman with tacitus. the noble apparition of marcus aurelius shines out of the darkening ages like some unearthly incarnation, collecting in one life and in one book all the light and healing left in the waning civilisations; beside the babble of fronto his speech is as that of one of the wise gods of the ancient fantasy. henceforth we have but ancillary history, and, in imaginative literature, be it of apuleius or of claudian, the portents of another age. _roma fuit._ the last stages of the transition from the pagan to the middle ages can best be traced in the history of the northern province of gaul. subjected to regular imperial administration within a generation of its conquest by cæsar, gaul for some centuries actually gained in civilisation, the imperial regimen being relatively more favourable to nearly every species of material progress than that of the old chiefs.[ ] the emperors even in the fourth century are found maintaining there the professorships of rhetoric, language, law, philosophy and medicine first founded by marcus antoninus;[ ] and until finance began to fail and the barbarians to invade, the material conditions were not retrograde. but the general intellectual life was merely imitative and retrospective; and the middle and upper classes, for which the higher schools existed, were already decaying in gaul as elsewhere. the old trouble, besides, the official veto on all vital political discussion--if indeed any appetite for such discussion survived--drove literature either into mere erudition or into triviality. on the other hand, the growing church offered a field of ostensibly free intellectual activity, and so was for a time highly productive, in point of sheer quantity of writing; a circumstance naturally placed by later inquirers to the credit of its creed. the phenomenon was of course simply one of the passage of energy by the line of least resistance. within the church, to which they turned as did thoughtful greeks to philosophy after the rise of alexander's empire, men of mental tastes and moderate culture found both shelter and support; and the first gaulish monasteries, unlike those of egypt and the east, were, as m. guizot has noted, places for conference rather than for solitary life.[ ] there, for men who believed the creed, which was as credible as the older doctrines, there was a constant exercise for the mind on interests that were relatively real, albeit profoundly divided from the interests of the community. thus, at a time when the community needed all its mental energy to meet its political need, that mental energy was spent in the discussion of insoluble and insane problems, of predestination and freewill, of faith and works, of fasts, celibacy, the trinity, immortality, and the worship of saints. men such as ambrose and jerome in italy, paulinus, cassian, hilary, and salvian in gaul, chrysostom in the east, and augustine in the south, represent as it were the last vibrations of the civilised intelligence; their energy, vainly spent on what they felt to be great issues, hints of the amount of force that was still running to waste throughout the empire. soon, however, and even before the barbarian tide had overflowed the intellectual world, the fatal principle at the core of the new creed began to paralyse even the life that centred around that. in a world of political tyranny, an established church claiming to stand for the whole of supernatural truth must needs resort to tyranny as soon as it could wield the weapons. the civil strifes which broke out alike in the eastern and the western empire in the third and fourth centuries, and the multitude of sects which rapidly honeycombed the church, wore so many more forces of social disintegration; and churchmen, reasoning that difference of dogma was the ground of civil warfare as well as of war in the church, must needs take the course that had before been taken in politics. after the original arian battle had raged itself out in egypt, gregory of nazianzun at constantinople, ambrose at milan, and martin at tours,[ ] fought it over again. one point secured, others were settled in turn; and as soon as the influence of augustine set up a prevailing system of thought, theology was as much a matter of rule and precedent as government. as we read augustine's _city of god_, with its strenuous demonstration that the calamities which men ascribe to the new religion are the fruit of their own misdeeds, we realise to the full the dissolution of antiquity. all that is valid in his polemic is the exposure of the absurdity of the old faiths, long before detected by the reason of the few, but maintained by believers and unbelievers alike for reasons of state. the due nemesis came in the rise of a faith which first flourished on and promoted an utter disregard of state concerns, then helped directly to rob the state of the mental energy it most needed, and finally wrought for the paralysis of what mental energy itself had attracted. of constructive truth, of the thought whereby a state could live, the polemist had much less than was once possessed by the men who framed or credited the fables he derided. he could destroy, but could not build up. and so it was with the church, as regarded the commonweal. "of all the various systems of government that have been attempted on this earth, theocracy, or more properly hierocracy, is undoubtedly one of the very worst."[ ] but one thing the church could construct and conserve--the fabric of her own wealth and power. hence it came about that the church, in itself a state within the state, was one of the three or four concrete survivals of antiquity round which modern civilisation nucleated. of the four, the church, often treated as the most valuable, was really the least so, inasmuch as it wrought always more for the hindrance of progress and the sundering of communities than for advance and unification. the truly civilising forces were the other three: the first being the body of roman law, the product of roman experience and greek thought in combination; and the second, the literature of antiquity, in large part lost till the time we call the new birth, when its recovery impregnated and inspired, though it perhaps also overburdened and lamed, the unformed intelligence of modern europe. the third was the heritage of the arts of life and of beauty, preserved in part by the populations of the western towns which survived and propagated their species through the ages of dominant barbarism; in part by the cohering society of byzantium. from these ancient germs placed in new soil is modern civilisation derived. footnotes: [footnote : see e. meyer, _geschichte des alterthums_, ii, ; cp. a. schwegler, _römische geschichte_, i, - , as to the survivals. the reversion of the remaining etruscan aristocracy in rome to the language of the common people, under stress of strife with etruria, is a phenomenon on all fours with the abandonment of french by the upper-class english in the fourteenth century, as a result of hostility with france.] [footnote : even eduard meyer decides in this fashion (_geschichte des alterthums_, ii, ) that to italy "was denied the capacity to shape a culture for itself, to energise independently and creatively in the sphere of art, poetry, religion, and science"--this after expressly noting (ii, ) how greece itself developed only under the stimulus of alien culture. compare §§ , (ii, - ).] [footnote : mommsen, _history of rome_, eng. tr. , i, - (bk. i, ch. xv).] [footnote : "no people has ever possessed a vaster pantheon," observes m. boissier, while noting the slightness of the characterisation (_la religion romaine d'auguste aux antonins_, e édition, i, ). the lack of characterisation would seem to have encouraged multiplication.] [footnote : the fact that the etruscans, like the other italian peoples, remained at the stage of unintellectual formalism (meyer, _geschichte des alterthums_, ii, - ; schwegler, _römische geschichte_, i, ), suffices to show that not in race genius but in stage and conditions of culture lies the explanation. all early religion in official hands is formalist--witness the pentateuch. the preoccupied italians left their cults, as did the phoenicians, to archæological officials, while the leisured greeks carried them into poetry and art under conditions which fostered these activities.] [footnote : the point is discussed in the author's _christianity and mythology_, nd ed. pp. - ; _pagan christs_, nd ed. pp. - .] [footnote : whether or not we accept mommsen's view (bk. i, c. xiv) that the use of the alphabet in italy dates from about b.c. on this cp. schwegler, i, .] [footnote : mommsen, _history of rome_, bk. i, ch. xii, eng. tr. ed. , i. . cp. boissier, as cited, i, , as to the respective functions of priests and pontiffs.] [footnote : it is only through fragmentary vestiges (servius on virgil, _georg._ i, ; cp. varro in augustine, _de civitate dei_, vi, - ) that we know the contents of the book of _indigitamenta_ kept by the pontifices. it seems to have been a list, not of the _dii indigetes_ commonly so-called, but of all the multitudinous powers presiding over the various operations of life. see schwegler, _römische geschichte_, i, ; teuffel, _hist. of roman lit._ ed. schwabe, eng. trans. , i, ; boissier, _la religion romaine d'auguste aux antonins_, i, , and _note_. "i have no doubt," writes mr. ward fowler (_the religious experience of the roman people_, , p. ), "that wissowa is right in explaining _indigitamenta_ as _gebetsformeln_, formulæ of invocation; in which the most important matter, we may add, would be the name of the deity. see his _gesammelte abhandlungen_, p. foll." corssen put this view before wissowa.] [footnote : according to varro (cited by augustine, _de civ. dei_, iv, ), the early romans for years worshipped the gods without images.] [footnote : rev. sir g.w. cox, _mythology of the aryan nations_, ed. , p. .] [footnote : keightley, _mythol. of anc. greece and italy_, , pp. - .] [footnote : meyer, ii, .] [footnote : mommsen, ch. .] [footnote : valerius maximus, i, .] [footnote : livy, xxv, .] [footnote : _id._ xxv, .] [footnote : _id._ xxix, , .] [footnote : cp. boissier, as cited, i, .] [footnote : boissier, i, . cp. gibbon, ch. , bohn ed. i, - , and wenck's note.] [footnote : livy, xxxix, . the farrago of charges of crime we have no more reason to credit than we have in regard to the similar charges made later against the christians.] [footnote : cp. carl peter, _geschichte roms_, , i, .] [footnote : cp. merivale, _history_, small ed. iv, - , and gibbon, ch. (bohn ed. iii, ).] [footnote : sat, vii, .] [footnote : martial, i, , ; xiii, . but cp. becker, _gallus_. sc. iii, excur. .] [footnote : vespasian began the endowment of professorships of rhetoric (suetonius, _vespasian_, ). as to the antonines, see gibbon, ch. ii, _note_, near end; and cp. hatch, _influence of greek ideas upon the christian church_, , pp. - ; and boissier, _la fin du paganisme_, i, . vespasian's endowments, it should be noted, were given only to the professors of rhetoric. the philosophers (presumably the stoics, but also the astrologers) he banished, as did domitian. on this cp. merivale, _history_, vol. vii, ch. .] [footnote : cp. guizot, _histoire de la civilisation en france_, e éd. i, , .] [footnote : _id._, pp. - .] [footnote : _id._, i, , .] [footnote : guizot (as cited, i, ) makes much of the fact that hilary, ambrose, and martin opposed the _capital_ punishment of heretics. he ignores the circumstance that martin led an attack on all the pagan idols and temples of his neighbourhood, in which the peasants who resisted were slain.] [footnote : u.r. burke, _history of spain_, m. hume's ed. , i, .] epilogue a general view of decadence we are now, perhaps, in a position to contemplate the wood without being distracted by the trees, and without forgetting, on the other hand, that it is an aggregate of trees individually conditioned by aggregation. the record of græco-roman, as of all other ancient civilisation, with the partial exception of that of china, is one of a complete decadence--in this case a twofold decadence: a passing from collective energy and achievement to collective decrepitude and mental impotence, from intellectual freedom and force to the dogmatic arrest of thought, from artistic splendour to the very negation of the finest forms of art. however we may dispute about the nature of progress, we all agree that this was decadence. not even the christian greek, the least freethinking of educated moderns, supposes that the life of his race went upwards from the time of constantine. the italian to this day aspires--by way of tripoli, among other things--to bear some comparison with the roman, whose "greatness" he envies. decadence, then, is confessed. it concerns us, if we would have a historical philosophy at all, to think it all in terms of general causation. at the outset, we shall do well to realise that in the long transmutation there was no day, save those of sudden and dire disaster, on which the human elements of the state organisms concerned were collectively conscious of any great change in their way of life. and days of dire disaster had occurred in the times to which we look back as those of energetic expansion. early rome had been actually captured by etruscans, by gauls; "she" had ostensibly come to the verge of overthrow by hannibal a whole era before she was sacked by the goths; athens had been sacked by the persians long before the roman invasion. what was the determining difference in the consciousness of the citizens at the two epochs? clearly that between the minds of men wont to "fend for themselves" collectively and of men wont to be ruled and prescribed for by a master--a difference, therefore, in power of resistance and of recovery. and this difference had itself been wrought by long mutations--from the day of sulla to the day of tiberius in rome, from the day of alexander to that of sulla in greece. no one generation had been born in full "freedom," to pass away in complete subordination to an autocrat. the earlier generations, like the later, had been habituated to slave-owning, superstition, and the thought of war. the substantial and fatal change was in the degree of simple average manhood among the free. national decadence, in a word, is loss of manhood--a thing not easily lost. a conservative statesman of our day, wont to apply analytic criticism chiefly for partisan purposes, has attempted a comparatively disinterested analysis of the problem before us, in a short but not inconsiderate survey of the decadence of the old world. at the outset he rightly notes the inconsistency with which men still tend to hold by the old idea of an inevitable ageing and ultimate decrepitude of states and civilisations, while holding no less confidently to the modern notion, practically unattained by the ancients, of an inevitable progress. "why," he asks, "_should_ civilisations thus wear out and great communities decay? and what evidence is there that in fact they do?"[ ] it may or may not be by reason of political bias that the questioner--who indeed avows that he is pursuing one of "those wandering trains of thought where we allow ourselves the luxury of putting wide-ranging questions, to which our ignorance forbids any confident reply"--propounds no clear answer to either query, contenting himself with suggesting that modern civilisation, in virtue of its strengthening hold on physical science, stands a chance of escaping the doom that fell on the old. but such a curtailed answer moves us afresh to seek a more complete one. our questioner, contemplating the "fall" of rome, argues that the cause cannot have been even so serious an evil as slavery, which had been in operation from the beginning. he overlooks the fact that it had greatly increased in the period of far-reaching conquest,[ ] and so misses an element in the solution. passing over this, he recognises one proximate "cause," diminution of population; and he in effect seems to trace to this source the secondary factor of fiscal collapse--the breaking down of the tax-paying classes everywhere under the ever-increasing burden of state exaction. the final fiscal process he oddly describes as "a crude experiment in socialism." putting the decay of population and the increase of burdens together, he pronounces that "they absolutely require themselves to be explained by causes more general and more remote"; and his answer--confessedly a mere restatement of the problem--is just the word "decadence." the process is simply formulated, once more, in terms of its name. the questioner does not even take the further analytical step of asking how the eastern empire came to endure a thousand years longer than the western; and why the decadence did not similarly operate there. if anything has been made out in the foregoing survey, we have got further than this; and indeed from any point of view the arrest of the analysis is surprising. supposing failure of population to be the central phenomenon, we have obviously to ask: what were the political differentia of the progressive and the ostensibly declining states of population? how were the peoples ruled when they were strong, expansive, and collectively equal to their burdens? surely the answer is obvious. republican greece and republican rome were self-governing communities, or aggregates of such, supporting themselves by individualist production of all kinds, breeding beyond and not under the apparent limit of food-production. when romanised italy ceased to produce a sufficiency of men, she had ceased to produce a sufficiency of things; and this latter failure, entailing the other, can be shown to have been a direct result of the exaction of all manner of subsistence from conquered territories. so far, there is no mystery. our querist, however, affirms a diminution of population not only in italy but throughout the empire. here we must first question the assertion. pestilences, such as that of a.c., doubtless visited most parts of the empire; but pestilences belong also to the pre-imperial period, and need not here be specially considered. as to greece, the facts have been already given. the depopulation of that, after alexander, was primarily a matter of exodus to the richer conquered lands, where a new hellenistic civilisation arose under purely monarchic rule, and therefore unaccompanied by the all-round, self-developing mental energy which had marked the life of "free" greece. in byzantium, of course, the mental stagnation, under christian autocracy, was no less complete. but there is no evidence whatever that after constantine the principle of population failed in the eastern empire, especially when that was restricted by the amputation of the tributary territories.[ ] did population then fail in gaul and spain and africa? if so, when? as to gaul, there is evidence that after the conquest population and productivity increased, though the latter had not previously been low--witness the loot taken by cæsar at toulouse. gaul was certainly taxed exorbitantly; but julian, as we saw, prudently lessened the drain; and mommsen describes both gaul and spain as flourishing in their romanised period.[ ] they continued, in fact, to be, with north africa, the main sources of the revenue of the western empire down to its collapse. materially, they in some respects went forward, notably in the case of the region of old carthage. the element wherein they were decadent was precisely that of free manhood, everywhere eviscerated by autocratic and bureaucratic rule. therefore it was that, like britain--similarly productive of revenue in the imperial period--they were unable to defend themselves against the final barbarian inroads. had honorius carried out his scheme for a measure of home rule in gaul,[ ] and followed it up by a similar scheme for spain, italy indeed might all the sooner have lost her hold on them as milch kine, but both provinces might conceivably have developed a new life centuries before they historically did. the conservative statesman has in fact, and very naturally, excluded from consideration the central political factor. echoing the gibbon-mommsen-renan thesis as to the excellence of the antonine government of the mediterranean world, he ignores as those writers did the vital problem: wherein lies the felicity of a world wholly at the mercy of the chance of the election of a good emperor by a mercenary soldiery? to fall back on phrases about the empire "respecting local feelings, encouraging local government," and being "accepted by the conquered as the natural organisation of the world," is merely to burke the real issue as to the political viability of communities satisfied with such a system, content to rest the social pyramid forever on its apex. to say that the conditions of the empire under the antonines were "getting better" is merely to close the eyes to the frightful hazard of imperial succession. a world absolutely dependent for its betterment--nay, even for its safe continuance--on the chance of a good succession of despots is a world doomed by the mere law of variation. if we will but gauge moral and economic forces in human affairs as we gauge physical forces in that toil of science of which the conservative statesman has learned to recognise the efficacy, we shall deliver ourselves from the mystery-mongering which he is fain to substitute for the old shibboleth of "the divine will." to trace causation in a known civilisation is not to pretend either to understand all social sequences in all ages or to predict the destinate future: it is but to recognise the real reactions of human proclivities and procedures which habit and prejudice have been wont to contemplate uncritically. the late sir john seeley, who at times hardly advances on kingsley as an interpreter of history, grappled in his day with our problem; and he too specified the antonine age as a notably hopeful period, from which he dates the decadence:-- "a century of unparalleled tranquillity and virtuous government is followed immediately by a period of hopeless ruin and dissolution. a century of rest is followed not by renewed vigour, but by incurable exhaustion. some principle of decay must have been at work; but what principle? we answer: it was a period of sterility or barrenness in human beings; the human harvest was bad. and among the causes of this barrenness we find, in the more barbarous nations, the enfeeblement produced by the too abrupt introduction of civilisation and universally the absence of industrial habits, and the disposition to listlessness which belongs to the military character."[ ] one is tempted to apply the theory of human crops to the case of the chair of history at cambridge. prof. seeley's theory is an edifying variant on that of mr. balfour. where one thesis finds the key to all in the emperor, the other sees failure of the human harvest the moment the imperial succession goes wrong. and while the professor offers the semblance of a reason for the alleged failure in the human breed, it is really too nugatory for discussion. if the "barbarous nations" alluded to were gaul and spain, they had suffered the "abrupt introduction of civilisation" more than two hundred years before. egypt and syria and greece and north africa had older civilisations than the roman. germany was not decadent. the decay of industrial life in italy had begun long before the empire. as well might we say that a bad human crop there had preceded the etruscan conquest, the invasion by hannibal, and the civil wars. to cite, as does prof. seeley, the pestilence of the year as a beginning of depopulation, is to ignore the problem of three hundred years of previous depopulation in italy, and to set up a misconception as to the rest of the empire. according to gibbon, the long pestilence of the years - was the worst of all.[ ] more plausibly, prof. seeley goes on to argue that "what the plague had been to the population, that the _fiscus_ was to industry. it broke the bruised reed; it converted feebleness into utter and incurable debility. roman finance had no conception of the impolicy of laying taxation so as to depress enterprise and trade. the _fiscus_ destroyed capital in the roman empire. the desire of accumulation languished where the government lay in wait for all savings--_locupletissimus quisque in prædam correptus_. all the intricate combinations by which man is connected to man in a progressive society disappeared."[ ] but this is a finally excessive description of a process which had been in full swing in the time of cicero, and which subsisted for three hundred years after marcus aurelius in the west. a generation after marcus came the powerful severus, whose son caracalla could find millions of money to build his immense baths at rome, still monstrous in their ruins; and seventy years after caracalla, diocletian, wielding the empire at its utmost extension, could build still vaster baths for the imperial city at which he had ceased to dwell. with a debased silver coinage,[ ] the emperors of that day seemed to feel no fatal lack of real revenue, and maintained, at great cost, huge armies for the control and defence of their enormous realm. it is impossible to see why the age of the antonines should be taken as a turning point in the empire's history rather than the age of diocletian. that great organiser seems to have partly provoked the insurrection of the bagaudae in gaul by taxation; but the bagaudae were a _jacquerie_ oppressed by the nobles, as their fathers had been before cæsar, and as their posterity was long afterwards; and their wrongs may as well have been at the hands of their lords as at those of the autocrat.[ ] however that might be, roman rule in gaul survived the revolt of the bagaudae, yielding a great revenue to constantine; and at the time of the fall of rome gaul was much more productive than italy. all this is beside the case. to say that "the downfall of the empire is accounted for" by the _fiscus_[ ] is to raise the question whether the empire, as such, could have been run by any other method. the professor himself pronounces that "government in its helplessness was driven" to fiscal oppression. then fiscal oppression belonged to the nature of the empire. once more we return to the true line of sequence and explanation. every step and stage in decadence belonged to the process of conquest, of confiscation, of subjection of foreign races, who were made to pay for the vast machinery that kept them subject till they were unfit for self-defence. [what is true of the roman fisc was true till the other day of the turkish, another product of militarist imperialism, similarly collateral with mental stagnation. depopulation and arrest of production in the east under turkish rule are to be explained in substantially the way in which we have explained them for ancient rome. and it is significant that the prospect of regeneration for turkey has begun after the amputation of many of the provinces over which she maintained an alien rule. her future visibly depends on the continuance of the processes of self-maintenance and development of the principle of self-government throughout the subsisting state.] there is a danger that, in insisting on the primarily moral causation of the process of social disease and decay, we may on the one hand relapse into a delusive sense of moral superiority, and on the other hand fail to realise how the subjective moral divagation becomes politically effectual in structural and economic change. it is the understood process of causation that is alone truly instructive. but the instruction is deepened in the ratio of our realisation of the decay. though it is clear that before rome many a civilisation had gone to violent wreck, there is in recorded history no more overwhelming memory of long triumph and long downfall than that "from the far-distant morning when a small clan of peasants and shepherds felled the forests on the palatine to raise altars to its tribal deities, down to the tragic hour in which the sun of græco-latin civilisation set over the deserted fields, the abandoned cities, the homeless, ignorant, and brutalised peoples of latin europe."[ ] and this whole tremendous arc of triumph and decline is to be understood as the historic expression of the specially conditioned bias of conquest in one people. the decline is the due sequence of the "rise": everything roots in the wrong relation of communities throughout the empire. the extension of such a social disease as slavery is one of the symptoms, one of the sequelæ, of the central malady.[ ] a totally progressive state eliminates or minimises slavery; a declining one fails to do so. the economic malady involved affects primarily the dominant or parasitic state or central part, its condition of parasitism being more deadly than its draining effect on the others. _their_ malady lay in their state of subjugation, which was an impoverishment of character and political faculty; and thus it came about that the collapse of the centre of organisation meant the fall of the entire civilisation of western europe before the new barbarism. rome had so visibly ruined all that we are apt to forget how the process of moral and political retrogression had begun in the greek world long before. there, however, the roman conquest was but a consummation; and the economic and political continuance of the eastern empire was concurrent with a moral and intellectual contraction which was never recovered from. in a word, varying conditions determined the differences of continuance and evolution in the two spheres. but the causation is none the less clear throughout. it might be supposed that this reverberating lesson could have been read in only one way--as a warning to the nations against taking the roman road of conquest and dominion. and yet it is doubtful whether modern states have been at all guided by that lesson, as compared with the extent to which they have been overruled by the sheer difficulty of repeating the evolution. the problem has been faced by lord cromer, a ripe ruler, in his very scholarly essay on _ancient and modern imperialism_. the experienced administrator is quite alive to the analogy between the part played of old by rome around the mediterranean and in europe, and that played to-day by england in india and, in some measure, in egypt. raised in some degree above the ordinary hallucination of mere dominion, the confused pride of the average man in his country's rule over large portions of the earth, the veteran governor notes that, whereas there was a general acquiescence of the subject peoples in the imperial rule of rome, no _imperium_ to-day has won any such cordial acceptance.[ ] neither france in algeria and tunis nor britain in india and egypt is an assimilating and unifying power. we may note the proximate explanation, which he does not at first give--to wit, the sundering force of crystallised religious systems. as he later puts it, following sir alfred lyall, religions make nations, where the romans had to deal with tribes.[ ] but that need not greatly affect our view of the political problem, which would remain if the religious factor were eliminated; and it is over the political problem that lord cromer most significantly balances. falling back on the method of fatalism, he pronounces, like others before him, "that rome, equally with the modern expansive powers, more especially great britain and russia, was impelled onwards by the imperious and irresistible necessity of acquiring defensible frontiers; that the public opinion of the world scoffed , years ago, as it does now, at the alleged necessity; and that each onward move was attributed to an insatiable lust for extended dominion."[ ] as in all fatalistic reasoning, we are here faced by radical self-contradiction. the "public opinion of the world," which lord cromer allows to include a large part of roman opinion,[ ] could not scoff at an "irresistible necessity": it knew that it was no more irresistibly necessary for a to conquer b than for b to conquer a; and in ascribing to rome an "insatiable lust for extended dominion" it merely credited rome with an appetite known to inhere in all states. rome succeeded in her aim; others failed. pisa, overborne by florence, had in her day overborne other communities. lord cromer has begged the vital question, which is: can states, or can they not, live neighbourly? to say that rome could not because of the ambitions or menaces of others is idle: the menace was reciprocal. for practical purposes, of course, the thesis is sometimes adequate all round, as when france and britain, face to face in north america and in india, strove each to oust the other. but at times the plea becomes visibly farcical, as in the recent case of russia in the far east, and the earlier case of britain with regard to afghanistan. we can all remember the temporary growth of the doctrine of "a scientific frontier." first you want a river; then you need the territory beyond the river; then you need the line of hills commanding that territory; then the territory behind the hills becomes a _sine qua non_.[ ] in this case the doctrine has disappeared with the policy, and _that_ disappeared simply because it failed. the event has proved that the doctrine was a chimera. and nobody to-day probably will maintain that russia lay under an imperious and irresistible necessity to go and be defeated by the japanese in manchuria; or that she could not conceivably have stopped short of that extremity. the use sometimes made of the word "cupidity" is apt to obscure the problem. there is cupidity of power and conquest as well as of territory, revenue, plunder. roman cupidity was of all kinds. but so was that of "the" greeks. lord cromer employs the old false dichotomy--above discussed--that marks the greeks as "individualistic" and the romans as somehow unitary.[ ] as we have seen, the original roman city-state was just the same kind of thing as the greek: it was opportunity that made "the romans" expand, whereas "the greeks," down to alexander, remained segregated in their states. what was common and fatal to both, what led greece to dissolution and rome to downfall, was the primary impulse to combat, the inability to refrain from jealousy, hate, and war. and for the moderns, seeing this, the problem is, can they refrain? either we are thus to learn from history, or all history is as a novel without a purpose. and lord cromer, as a man of action, cannot in effect take this attitude, though he recoils from any clear statement of the lesson. on the one hand, he makes the most of the differentia between ancient and modern imperialism. english rulers in india, he admits, originally aimed at home revenue, and did for a time practise sheer plunder;[ ] the british rule no longer does either: which is in effect an admission that one "imperious and irresistible necessity" of the roman rule has been successfully resisted--shall we say, by modern enlightenment? but he will not frankly take the further step and say that for the ideal of dominion over backward races we should substitute the ideal of their education and purposive evolution. rather he makes the most of the difficulties, enlarging in the familiar fashion on the dividedness and differentiation of the indian peoples and the relative stationariness of islam: two undeniable propositions, of which the first is nothing to the purpose, since we are discussing the lines of progressive policy; while the second merely incurs the rejoinder that christendom was long as stationary as islam, and that christian abyssinia is so still. as was, indeed, to be expected, lord cromer will rather homologate the whole roman process, decadence and collapse and all, than pronounce it what it was, a vast divagation in human progress. ultimately he does not even blench at the proposition that the whole ruin "had to" take place[ ] by way of preparing for the civilisation that was to follow, even as he argues that "the" romans "had to" undertake fresh wars where they (on the urging, as he admits, of their wisest men) had sought to evade further conquest by recognising "buffer states"[ ]--as who should say that whatever course a majority or a government do take "had to" be taken. the answer to such reasoning is the mention of the fact, which he admits, that it was "a supreme principle of the roman government to acknowledge no frontier power with equal rights."[ ] can it be still a question whether that principle is to be transcended? on the final issue as to what the ruling nations "have to" do to-day as regards the subject peoples, the disinterested student can hardly hesitate, however the ex-administrator may feel bound to balance. "the englishman," lord cromer tells us, truly enough as regards the average citizen, "would be puzzled to give any definite answer" to the question _quo vadis?_ in matters imperial.[ ] he may well be, when lord cromer visibly is, despite the ostensible emphasis with which he exhorts his countrymen to keep "the _animus manendi_ strong within them."[ ] the danger is that, noting the formal conclusion rather than the implicit lesson of lord cromer's very able survey, "the englishman" may turn from his puzzle to some new insanity of imperialism. not many years have passed since english wiseacres were speculating on a "break-up" of china, and a dominion of some other state over her huge area and multitudinous millions. he would be a bad sample of modernity who should now regret that china is apparently on the way, like japan, to build up a new progressive civilisation in the "unchanging east."[ ] but it is perhaps as much to the sheer impracticability of further great conquests as to any alert and conscious reading of the lesson of history that we owe the growing disposition of modern states to seek their good in their own development. if so, provided that the ideal be changed, "it is well, if not _so_ well." footnotes: [footnote : _decadence._ (henry sidgwick memorial lecture.) by the right hon. a.j. balfour, , p. .] [footnote : see above, pp. - . on the whole question see the very full survey of w.r. patterson, _the nemesis of nations_, , p. _sq._] [footnote : gibbon's generalisation (end of ch. ) as to a "diminution of the human species" throughout the empire is confessedly founded on very imperfect evidence, applying only to alexandria, and very doubtful even at that point.] [footnote : history, vol. v (_the provinces_). cp. merivale, _general history_, p. .] [footnote : see gibbon, ch. , end. on gibbon's and guizot's interpretation of the scheme, see prof. bury's note on gibbon, _in loc_.] [footnote : _lectures and essays_, : lecture on "roman imperialism," p. .] [footnote : ch. , _end_.] [footnote : essay cited, p. .] [footnote : prof. bury (note to gibbon in his ed. i, ) cites the debased silver coinage as a proof of the "distress of the empire" and the "bankruptcy of the government." this is an unwarranted inference. see above, p. .] [footnote : cp. gibbon, ch. , bohn ed. i, - ; merivale, _general history_, pp. - . bagaudae seem to have recruited the army of julian. (ed. note on gibbon, as cited, ii, .)] [footnote : seeley, as cited, p. .] [footnote : ferrero, _greatness and decline of rome_, eng. tr. , vol. i, pref.] [footnote : cp. patterson, _nemesis of nations_, as cited.] [footnote : _ancient and modern imperialism_, , pp. - , - .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _ancient and modern imperialism_, pp. - .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : compare lord cromer's mention (p. ) of the doubt as to whether the himalayas made a secure frontier.] [footnote : _ancient and modern imperialism_, p. .] [footnote : _id._ pp. , - .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _ancient and modern imperialism_, p. , citing mommsen.] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : mr. balfour, using this egregious expression in his lecture on decadence (p. ), explains that "the 'east' is a term most loosely used. it does not here include china and japan, and _does_ include parts of africa." at the same time it does not refer to the ancient jews and phoenicians. one is moved to ask, does it include the turks and the persians? if not, in view of all the other exceptions, might it not be well to drop the "unchanging" altogether?] part iv the case of the italian republics note on literature no quite satisfactory history of italy has appeared in english. the standard modern italian history, that of cesare cantù, has been translated into french; but in english there has been no general history of any length since procter and spalding. col. procter's _history of italy_ (published as by g. perceval, ; nd ed. ) has merit, but is not abreast of modern studies. spalding's _italy and the italian islands_ ( vols. rd ed. ) is an excellent work of its kind, covering italian history from the earliest times, but is also in need of revision. the comprehensive work of dr. t. hodgkin, _italy and her invaders_ ( nd ed. - , vols.) comes down to the death of charlemagne. of special histories there are several. one of the best and latest is that of _the lombard communes_, by prof. w.f. butler ( ). captain h.e. napier, in the preface to his _florentine history_ ( , vols.) rightly contended that "no people can be known by riding post through their country against time"; but his six learned volumes are ill-written and ill-assimilated. the best complete history of florence, the typical italian republic, is the long _histoire de florence_ by f.t. perrens ( tom. - ; eng. tr. of one vol. by hannah lynch, ). t.a. trollope's _history of the commonwealth of florence_ ( , vols.) is less indigestible than napier's, but is gratuitously diffuse, and is written in large part in unfortunate imitation of the pseudo-dramatic manner of carlyle. it is further blemished by an absurd index. neither this nor mr. w. carew hazlitt's _history of the venetian republic_ ( , vols.; new ed. in two large vols. ) has much sociological value, though the latter is copious and painstaking, albeit also diffuse. the _genoa_ of j. theodore bent ( ) is an interesting sketch; but the well-read author fails in orderly construction. a good short manual is the _italy_ of mr. hunt (macmillan's historical course); and an excellent compendium is supplied by the two treatises of oscar browning ( - ), _guelphs and ghibellines_ (covering the period - ) and _the age of the condottieri_, covering the renaissance, to . bryce and hallam are alike helpful to general views; and it is still profitable to return to the condensed _history of the italian republics_ by sismondi (written for the english "cabinet cyclopædia" in ), though it needs revision in detail. in his two volumes entitled _the fall of the roman empire_ ( ) that author has given a useful conspectus of the period covered by gibbon's great work. sismondi's larger and earlier _histoire des républiques italiennes_ has never ceased to be well worth study, though the _geschichte von italien_ of h. leo ( ) improves upon it in several respects. it has been revised and condensed (routledge, large vol. ) by mr. william boulting. for the early period the most comprehensive survey is the _geschichte italiens im mittelalter_ of ludo moritz hartmann ( bde. in , - ) which comes down to the tenth century. among modern monographs that of alfred von reumont on _lorenzo de' medici_ (eng. tr. , vols.) in nearly every way supersedes the old work of roscoe, whose _leo x_, again, is practically superseded by later works on the renaissance, in particular those of burckhardt (eng. tr. of geiger's ed. in vol. ) and the late j.a. symonds. miss duffy has a good chapter on florentine trade and finance in her _story of the tuscan republics_, ; and the short work of f.t. perrens, _la civilisation florentine du e au e siècle_ ( --in the _bibliothèque d'histoire illustrée_) is luminous throughout; but ranke's _history of the latin and teutonic nations_ (eng. tr. ), which deals with the italy of - , is little more than a sand-heap of incident. on the economic side there is a good research in pignotti's essay on tuscan commerce in his _history of tuscany_ (eng. tr. , vol. iii). much interesting detail is given, with much needless rhetoric, in _the guilds of florence_, by edgcumbe staley, . of great general value is the elaborate work of gregorovius, _geschichte der stadt rom im mittelalter_ ( te aufl. bde. - ; eng. tr. by mrs. hamilton, vols. - ), which, however, suffers from the disparity of its purposes, combining as it does, a topographical history of the city of rome with a full history of its politics. it remains a valuable mass of materials rather than a history proper. the same criticism applies to the very meritorious _geschichte der stadt rom_ of a. von reumont ( bde. - ), which begins with the very origin of the city, and comes down to our own time. but there has risen in contemporary italy a school of historical students who are rewriting the history of the great period in the light of the voluminous archives which have been preserved by municipalities. one outcome of this line of investigation is prof. villari's _the two first centuries of florentine history_ (eng. tr. of first vols. ). new light, further, has been thrown on the commercial history of italy in the dark ages and early middle ages by the admirable research of prof. w. von heyd, of which the french translation by furcy raynaud, _histoire du commerce du levant an moyen age_ ( , tom.) is recast and considerably enlarged by the author, while the renascence period is illuminated by r. pöhlmann's treatise, _die wirthschafts politik der florentiner renaissance und das princip der verkehrsfreiheit_ (leipzig, ). chapter i the beginnings § to understand aright the phenomenon of medieval italian civilisation we need first to realise that it was at bottom a fresh growth on the culture roots of the cities of romanised italy. when the imperial centre was shifted to the east, as already remarked, the people of italy began a fresh adaptation to their conditions; those of rome, instead of leading, standing most zealously to the old way of things. all the barbarian irruptions did but harass and hinder the new development; they finally counted for little in its upward course. there is a prevalent hallucination, akin to others concerning the "teutonic race," in the shape of a belief that italy was somehow "regenerated" by the "free nations of the north." no accepted formula could well be further away from the facts. if the political qualities of the "teutonic race," whatever that may mean, are to be generalised on the facts of the invasions of italy by the germanic tribes, from theodoric to frederick barbarossa, they must be summed up as consisting in a general incapacity for progressive civilisation. the invaders were, in fact, too disparate in their stage of evolution from that of the southern civilisation to be capable of assimilating it and carrying it on. living a life of strife and plunder like the early romans, they found in the disarmed italians, and in their rapidly degenerate predecessors of their own stock, an easier prey than the romans had ever known till they went to the east; but in the qualities either of military or of civil organisation they were conspicuously inferior to the romans of the early republic. men of the highest executive ability appeared from time to time among their leaders; a circumstance of great interest and importance, as suggesting that a percentage of genius occurs in all stages of human culture; but the mass of the invaders was always signally devoid of the very characteristics so romantically attributed to them by german, english, and even french teutophiles--to wit, the gifts of union, discipline, order, and self-government. these elements of civilisation depend on the functioning of the nerve centres, and are not to be evolved by mere multiplication of animated flesh, which was the main constructive process carried on in ancient germania. precisely because they were, as tacitus noted, the most homogeneous of the european races of that era,[ ] they were incapable of any rapid and durable social development. it is only mixed races that can evolve or sustain a complex civilisation. "the germans," as we historically trace them at the beginning of our era, were barbarians (_i.e._, men between savagery and civilisation) in the most rudimentary stage, making scanty beginnings in agriculture; devoid of the useful arts, save those normally practised by savages; given to drunkenness; chronically at war; and alternating at other times between utter sloth and energetic hunting--the pursuit which best fitted them for war. because the peoples thus situated were in comparison with the romans "chaste" and monogamous--a common enough virtue in savage life[ ]--they are supposed by their admirers to have been excellent material for a work of racial regeneration. only in an indirect sense does this hold good. as a new "cross" to the italian stocks they may indeed have made for beneficial variation; but by themselves they were mere raw material, morally and psychologically. their reputed virtue of chastity disappeared as soon as the barbarians passed from a northern to a southern climate,[ ] their vices so speedily exceeding the measure of paganism that even a degree of physiological degeneration soon set in. even in their own land, met by a fiercer barbarism than their own, they collapsed miserably before the huns. as regards the arts and sciences, moral and physical, it is impossible to trace to the invaders any share in the progress of italy,[ ] save in so far as they were doubtless a serviceable cross with the older native stocks. to their own stock, which had been relatively too homogeneous, the gain of crossing was mixed. aurelian had put the case with rude truth when he told a bragging embassy of goths that they knew neither the arts of war nor those of peace;[ ] and so long as the empire in any section had resources enough to levy and maintain trained armies, it was able to destroy any combination of the teutons. there was always generalship enough for that, down till the days of teutonic civilisation. claudius the second routed their swarms as utterly as ever did marius or cæsar; stilicho annihilated rodogast, and always out-generalled alaric; aetius, after routing franks, burgundians, and visigoths, overwhelmed the vast host of attila's huns; and in a later age the single unsleeping brain of belisarius, scantily weaponed with men and money by a jealous sovereign, could drive back from rome in shame and ruin all the barbarian levy of wittich.[ ] as against the "teutonic" theory of italian regeneration, a hearing may reasonably be claimed for the "etruscan," thus set forth:--"the etruscans were undoubtedly one of the most remarkable nations of antiquity--the great civilisers of italy--and their influence not only extended over the whole of the ancient world but has affected every subsequent age.... that portion of the peninsula where civilisation earliest flourished, whence infant rome drew her first lessons, has in subsequent ages maintained its pre-eminence.... it was etruria which produced giotto, brunelleschi, fra angelico, luca signorelli, fra bartolomeo, michael angelo, hildebrand, 'the starry galileo,' and such a noble band of painters, sculptors and architects as no other country of modern europe can boast. certainly no other region of italy has produced such a galaxy of brilliant intellects.... much may be owing to the natural superiority of the race, which, in spite of the revolutions of ages, remains essentially the same, and preserves a distinctive character." (g. dennis, _the cities and cemeteries of etruria_, rd ed. , introd. vol. i, pp. cii-iv.) assumption for assumption, this is as defensible as the others. what happened in italy after odoaker was that, for sheer lack of unitary government on the part of the invaders, the cities, which preserved the seeds and norms of the old civilisation, gradually grew into new organic life. under the early empire they had been disarmed and unwalled, to make them incapable of revolt. aurelian, stemming the barbarian tide, began to wall them afresh; but, as we have seen, the withdrawal of the seat of empire left italy economically incapable of action on an imperial scale; and the personal imbecility of such emperors as honorius filled up the cup of the humiliation of what once was rome. but the invaders on the whole did little better; and the material they brought was more hopeless than what they found. the passage from full barbarism to order and civilisation cannot conceivably be made in one generation or one age. athaulf, the able successor of alaric, passed his competent judgment on the matter in words which outweigh all the rhetoric of modern romanticism: "he was wont to say that his warmest wish had at first been to obliterate the roman name, and to make one sole gothic empire, so that all that which had been romania should be called gothia, and that he, athaulf, should play the same part as did cæsar augustus. but when by much experience he was convinced that the goths were incapable of obedience to laws, because of their unbridled barbarism, and that the state without laws would cease to be a state, he had chosen to seek glory in rebuilding its integrity and increasing the roman power by gothic forces, so that posterity should at least regard him as the restorer of the empire which he was unable to replace. therefore he strove to avoid war and to establish peace."[ ] it needed only command of the machinery of systematic government--if indeed the same qualities had not been in full play long before--to develop in the teutons every species of evil that could be charged against the southerns. the fallacy of attributing the crimes of byzantium to the physiological degeneration of an "old" race is exposed the moment we compare the record with the history of the franks, as told by gregory of tours. christian writers continue to hold up nero as a typical product of decadent paganism, saying nothing of the christian chilperic, "the nero of france," or of his father, less ill-famed, clothaire, the slayer of children, the polygamist, the strictly orthodox churchman, "certain that jesus christ will remunerate us for all the good we do" to his priests.[ ] odious women were as powerful in frankish courts as in byzantine; and the tale of the end of brunehild is not to be matched in pagan annals. savage treachery, perjury, parricide, fratricide, filicide, assassination, massacre, debauchery, are if possible more constant notes in the tale of the young barbarism, as told by the admiring saint, than in that of the long-descended civilisation of constantinople; and the rank and file seem to have been worthy of the heads. one note of gibbon's, on "barbaric virtue," _àpropos_ of the character of totila, has given one of his editors (bohn ed. iv, ) the opportunity to assert that the "natural superiority" of the invaders was manifest wherever they came in contact with their civilised antagonists. as if aurelian and belisarius were not the moral equals of totila. yet in a previous note (ch. , ed. cited, iv, ) on the frankish history of gregory of tours, gibbon had truly remarked that "it would not be easy, within the same historical space, to find more vice and less virtue." on that head sismondi declares (_histoire des français_, ed. , i, - ; _fall of the roman empire_, i, ) that "there was not a merovingian king that was not a father before the age of fifteen and decrepit at thirty." dunham (_history of the germanic empire_, , i, ) improves on this to the extent of asserting that "those abominable princes generally--such were their premature vices--died of old age before thirty." it is a fair surmise that, clovis being a barbarian of great executive genius (cp. guizot, _essais sur l'histoire de france_, p. ), his stock was specially liable to degeneration through indulgence. but motley, whose teutophile and celtophobe declamation at times reaches nearly the lowest depth touched by his school, will have it (_rise of the dutch republic_, ed. , p. ) that later "the carlovingian _race_ had been exhausted by _producing a race_ of heroes." any formula avails to support the dogma that "the german was loyal as the celt was dissolute" (_id._ p. ). it is perhaps arguable that the early teuton had a moral code peculiar to himself. sismondi (_fall_, i, ) remarks, concerning clothaire's son gontran, called by gregory "the good king gontran," as compared with his brothers: "his morality indeed passed for good; he is only known to have had two wives and one mistress, and he repudiated the first before he married the second; his temper was, moreover, reputed to be a kindly one, for, with the exception of his wife's physician, who was hewn in pieces because he was unable to cure her; of his two brothers-in-law, whom he caused to be assassinated; and of his bastard brother, gondebald, who was slain by treachery, no other act of cruelty is recorded of him than that he razed the town of cominges to the ground and massacred all the inhabitants, men, women, and children." sismondi has also appreciated (p. ) what gibbon has missed, the point of the letter of st. avitus to gondebald of burgundy, who had killed his three brothers, exhorting him "to weep no longer with such ineffable piety the death of his brothers, since it was the good fortune of the kingdom which diminished the number of persons invested with royal authority, and preserved to the world such only as were necessary to rule it." cp. sismondi's _hist. des français_, i, . a great name, such as theodoric's, tends to dazzle the eye that looks on the history of the time; but the great name, on scrutiny, is seen to stand for all the progress made in a generation. theodoric, though he would never learn to read,[ ] had a civilised education as regards the arts of government, and what was masterly in his rule may at least as well be attributed to that as to his barbaric stock.[ ] it is important to note that in his reign, by reason of being forced to live on her own products, italy actually attains the capacity to export grain after feeding herself[ ]--a result to which the king's rule may conceivably have contributed.[ ] in any case, the able ruler represents but a moment of order in an epic of anarchy.[ ] after theodoric, four kings in turn are assassinated, each by his successor; and the new monarchy begins to go the way of the old. what belisarius began narses finished, turning to his ends the hatreds between the teutonic tribes. narses gone, a fresh wave of barbarism flowed in under alboin the longobard, who in due course was assassinated by his outraged wife; and his successor was assassinated in turn. yet again, the new barbarism began to wear all the features of disorderly decay; and the longobard kingdom subsisted for over two hundred years, under twenty-one kings, without decisively conquering venetia, or the romagna, or rome, or the greek municipalities of the south.[ ] then came the frankish conquest, completed under charlemagne, on the invitation of the pope, given because the franks were good athanasians and the longobards arians. the great emperor did what a great man could to civilise his barbarian empire; but instead of fitting it to subsist without him he destroyed what self-governing power it had.[ ] soon after his death, accordingly, the stone rolled downhill once more; and when otto of saxony entered rome in , italy had undergone five hundred years of teutonic domination without owing to teuton activity, save indirectly, one step in civil progress. it thus appears that, while barbaric imperialism has different aspects from that of "civilisation," having a possible alterative virtue where the conditions are in themselves stagnant, even then its work is at best negative, and never truly constructive. charlemagne's work, being one of personal ambition, was in large part destructive even where it ostensibly made for civilisation; and at his death the germanic world was as literally degenerate, in the sense of being enfeebled for self-defence, as was the roman world in the period of its imperial decay.[ ] it is true that, despite the political chaos which followed on the disintegration of his system, there is henceforth no such apparent continuity of decadence as had followed on the merovingian conquest,[ ] and his period shows a new intellectual activity.[ ] but it is a fallacy to suppose that he created this activity, which is traceable to many sources. at most, charlemagne furthered general civilisation by forcing new culture contacts in central europe[ ], and bringing capable men from other countries, notably alcuin, but also many from ireland.[ ] but these favourable conditions were not permanent; there was no steady evolution; and we are left asking whether progress might not have occurred in a higher degree had the emperor's work been left unattempted.[ ] in any case, it is long after his time that civilisation is seen to make a steady recovery; and there is probably justice in the verdict of sismondi, that otto, an administrator of no less capacity than charlemagne, did more for it than he.[ ] guizot, while refusing to admit that the work of charlemagne passed away, admits sismondi's proposition that in the tenth century civilised society in europe was dissolving in all directions.[ ] the subsequent new life came not of imperialism but of the loosening of empire, and not from the teuton world but from the latin. it is from the new municipal developments inferribly set up before and under otto[ ] that the fresh growth derives. mommsen, in one of those primitively biassed anti-celtic passages which bar his pretensions to rank as a philosophic historian, declares of the elusive celtæ of antiquity, in dogged disregard of the question (so often put by german scholars and so often answered against him[ ]) whether they were not germans, that, "always occupied with combats and heroic actions, they were scattered far and wide, from ireland to spain and asia minor; but all their enterprises melted like snow in spring; they created nowhere a great state, and developed no specific civilisation."[ ] the passage would be exactly as true if written of the teutons. every tendency and quality which mommsen in this context[ ] specifies as celtic is strictly applicable to the race supposed to be so different from the celts. "attachment to the natal soil, so characteristic of the italians and _germans_, was foreign to them.... their political constitution was imperfect; not only was their national unity feebly recognised,[ ] as happens with all nations at their outset, but the separate communities were lacking in unity of aim, in solid control, in serious political sentiment, and in persistence. the sole organisation of which they were capable was the military,[ ] in which the ties of discipline dispensed the individual from personal efforts." "they preferred the pastoral life to agriculture." "always we find them ready to roam, or, in other words, to begin the march ... following the profession of arms as a system of organised pillage"; and so on. such were in strict truth the peculiarities of the germani, from tacitus to the middle ages; while, on the contrary, there is plenty of evidence that not merely the gauls but the britons of cæsar's day were much better agriculturists than the germani.[ ] in the early stage the germani actually shifted their ground every year;[ ] and for every migration or crusade recorded of celtæ, three are recorded of teutons. the successive swarms who conquered italy showed an almost invincible repugnance to the practice of agriculture; in the mass they knew no law and no ideal save the military; they were constantly at tribal war with each other, frank with longobard and goth with burgundian; ostrogoths and gepidæ fought on the side of attila at chalons against visigoths, franks, burgundians, and saxons; they had no idea of racial unity; and not one of their kingdoms ever went well for two successive generations. the story of the merovingians is one nightmare of ferocious discord; that of the suevi in spain, and of the visigoths in aquitaine, is mainly a memory of fratricide. as regards organisation, the only teutonic kings who ever made any headway were those who, like theodoric, had a civilised education, or, like the great charles and louis the second, eagerly learned all that roman tradition could teach them. the main stock were so incapable of political combination that, after the deposition of the last incapable carlovingian ( ), they could not arrest their anarchy even to resist the huns and saracens. their later conquests of italy came to nothing; and in the end, by the admission of teutonic men of science,[ ] there is nothing to show, in all the southern lands they once conquered, that they had ever been there. the supposed type has disappeared; the language never imposed itself; the vandal kingdom in africa went down like a house of cards before belisarius;[ ] the teutondom of spain was swept away by the moors, and it was finally the mixed population that there effected the reconquest. no race had ever a fairer opportunity than the visigoths in spain, with a rich land and an undivided monarchy. "yet after three centuries of undisputed enjoyment, their rule was overthrown at once and for ever by a handful of marauders from africa. the goth ... had been weighed in the balance and found wanting."[ ] in spain, france, and italy alike, the language remained romance; "not a word is to be found in the local nomenclature of castile, nor yet of the asturias, to tell the tale of the visigoth";[ ] even in england, where also the teutonic peoples for six hundred years failed to attain either progressive civilisation or political order, the norman conquerors, speaking a romance language, vitally modified by it the vocabulary of the conquered. so flagrant are the facts that savigny and eichhorn in their day both gave the opinion that "the german nations have had to run through their history with an ingrained tendency in their character towards political dismemberment and social inequality." the contrary theory was a later development.[ ] if, instead of seeking simply for the scientific truth, we sought to meet teutomania with celtomania, we might argue that it was only where there was a celtic basis that civilisation prospered in the tracks of the roman empire.[ ] mommsen, in the passage first above cited, declares that the celts, meaning the cisalpine galli, "loved to assemble in towns and villages, which consequently grew and gained in importance among the celts sooner than in the rest of italy"--this just after alleging that they preferred pastoral life to agriculture, and just before saying that they were always on the march. if the first statement be true, it would seem to follow that the celts laid the groundwork of medieval italian civilisation; for it was in the towns of what had been cisalpine gaul that that civilisation flourished. parts of northern italy had in fact been comparatively unaffected by the process which rooted out the peasantry in the south; and there was agriculture and population in the valley of the po when they had vanished from large areas around and south of rome.[ ] it is certain that "celtic" gaul--whence charlemagne (semi-civilised by the old environment) wrought hard, but almost in vain, to impose civilisation on germany--reached unity and civilisation in the middle ages, while germany remained divided and semi-barbaric; that ireland preserved classical learning and gave it back to the rest of europe when it had well-nigh disappeared thence;[ ] that england was civilised only after the norman conquest; and that germany, utterly disrupted by the reformation where france regained unity, was so thrown back in development by her desperate intestine strifes that only in the eighteenth century did she begin to produce a modern literature. one of the most flagrant of modern fables is that which credits to "teutonic genius" the great order of church architecture which arose in medieval and later france.[ ] "that sublime manifestation of 'poetry in stone' so strangely called gothic architecture is not only not visigothic, but it was unknown in spain for four hundred years after the destruction of the goths."[ ] the goth was not a builder but a wrecker. but if anything has been proved by the foregoing analyses, it is that race theories are, for the most part, survivals of barbaric pseudo-science; that culture stage and not race (save as regards the need for mixture), conditions and not hereditary character, are the clues to the development of all nations, "race" being a calculable factor only where many thousands of years of given environments have made a conspicuous similarity of type, setting up a disadvantageous homogeneity. it was simply their prior and fuller contact with greece and rome, and further their greater mixture of stocks, that civilised the galli so much earlier than the germani. on the other hand, the national failure in spain and italy of the teutonic stocks, as such, proves only that idle northern barbarians, imposing themselves as a warrior caste on an industrious southern population, were ( ) not good material for industrial development, and ( ) were probably at a physiological disadvantage in the new climate. southerners would doubtless have failed similarly in scandinavia. i know of no thorough investigation of the amalgamation of the stocks, or the absorption or disappearance of the northern. there is some reason to suppose that early in rome's career of conquest there began in the capital a substitution of more southerly physiological types--eastern and spanish--for those of the early latins. but the italians at all times seem to have undergone a climatic selection which adapted them to italy, where the northerners, whether celt or teuton, were not so adapted. the supposed divergence of character between northern and southern italians, insisted on by the former in our own time, certainly cannot be explained by any teutonic intermixture; for the teutons were settled in all parts of italy, and nowhere does the traditional blond type remain. exactly such differences, it should be remembered, are locally alleged as between norwegians and danes, northern and southern germans, and northern and southern english. if there be any real generic and persistent difference of temperament (there is none in variety of moral bias and mental capacity) or of nervous energy, it is presumably to be traced to climate. some aspects of the problem are discussed at length in _the saxon and the celt_, pt. i, §§ , . § the new life of italy, so to speak, came of the ultimate impotence of the northern invaders for imperialism. again and again, from the time of odoaker, we find signs of a growth of new life in the cities, now partly thrown on their own resources; and it is only the too great stress of the subsequent invasions that postpones their fuller growth for so many centuries. it is to be remembered that these invasions wrought absolute devastation where, even under roman rule, there had been comparative well-being. thus the province of illyria, between the alps and the danube, whose outlying and exposed character made it unattractive to the senatorial monopolists, was under the empire well populated by a free peasantry, who abundantly recruited the army.[ ] in the successive invasions this population was almost obliterated; and when odoaker conquered the rugians, who then held the territory, he brought multitudes of them into stricken italy, to people and cultivate its waste lands.[ ] theodoric, in turn, is held to have revived prosperity after overthrowing odoaker; and we have seen reason to believe that after the loss of africa even southern italy perforce revived her agriculture;[ ] but early in theodoric's reign ( ) we find pope gelasius declaring, doubtless with exaggeration, that in the provinces of aemilia and tuscany human life was almost extinct; while ambrose writes that bologna, modena, reggio, piacenza, and the adjacent country remained ruined and desolate.[ ] after theodoric, belisarius, in a struggle that exhausted central italy, almost annihilated the goths; and under narses, who finished the conquest, there was again some recovery, the scattered remnants of the population congregating in the towns, so that milan and others made fresh headway,[ ] though the country remained in large part deserted. this would seem to have been the turning-point in the long welter of italian history. the longobard conquest under alboin forced on the process of driving the older inhabitants into the cities. the ostrogothic kings, while they unwalled the towns they captured, had fortified pavia, which was able to resist alboin for four years, thus giving the other towns their lesson; and as he advanced the natives fled before him to venice, to genoa, to the cities of the pentapolis, to pisa, to rome, to gaeta, to naples, and to amalfi.[ ] above all, the cities of the coast, still adhering to the greek empire, and impregnable from land, were now allowed to retain for their own defence the revenue they had formerly paid to constantinople; naples won the right to elect her own dukes; and venice won the status of an equal ally of byzantium.[ ] thus once more there began to grow up, in tendency if not in form and name, republics of civilised and industrious men, in the teeth of barbarism and under the shadow of the name of empire.[ ] even in the eighth and ninth centuries the free populations of rome and ravenna were enrolled under the four heads of _clerici_, _optimates militiæ_, the _milites_ or _exercitus_, and the _cives onesti_ or free _populus_.[ ] beneath all were the great mass of unfree; but here at least was a beginning of new municipal life. the longobards had not, as has been so often written, revived the spirit of liberty; conquest is the negation of the reciprocity in which alone liberty subsists; but they had driven other men into the conditions where the idea of liberty could revive; and in so far as "lombard" civilisation in the next two hundred years distanced that of the franks,[ ] it was owing to the revival of old industries in the towns and the reactions of the other italian cities, no less than to the renewed growth of rural population and agriculture. sismondi (_républiques_, i, , - ; _fall_, i, ) uses the conventional phrase as to the longobards reviving the spirit of freedom, while actually showing its fallacy. in his _short history of the italian republics_ (p. ), he tells in the same breath that the invaders "introduced" several of their sentiments, "particularly the habit of independence and resistance to authority," and that in their conquests they considered the inhabitants "their property equally with the land." dunham (_europe in the middle ages_, , i, ) similarly speaks of the longobards as "infusing a new spirit" into the "slavish minds of the italians," and then proceeds (p. ) to show that what happened was a flight of italians from longobard tyranny. he admits further (p. ) that the longobard code of laws was "less favourable to social happiness than almost any other, the visigothic, perhaps, alone excepted"; and (p. ) that the longobards, wherever they could, "destroyed the [free] municipal institutions by subjecting the cities to the jurisdiction of the great military feudatories, the true and only tyrants of the country." gibbon decides that the longobards possessed freedom to elect their sovereign, and sense to decline the frequent use of that dangerous privilege (ch. , bohn ed. v, ); but pronounces their government milder and better than that of the other new barbarian kingdoms (p. ). sismondi again (_fall_, i, ; so also boulting in his recast of the _républiques_, p. ) declares that their laws, for a barbarian people, were "wise and equal." the midway truth seems to be that the dukes or provincial rulers came to feel some identity of interest with their subjects. later jurists called their laws _asininum jus, quoddam jus quod faciebant reges per se_ (symonds, _renaissance in italy_, nd ed. i, ). prof. butler, in his generally excellent history of _the lombard communes_, is unduly receptive of the old formula that "the _infusion of teutonic blood_ had given new life to the peninsula" (p. ; also p. ). his own narrative conflicts with the assertion; for he writes that the long isolation of such cities as cremona in the midst of teuton enemies "must have led to a rekindling of military and municipal spirit and the power of initiative" (p. ). he notes, too, that the building up of a new and active "aristocracy" in the cities from plebeian elements was hateful to the teuton, as represented by otto of freisingen in the time of barbarossa (p. ). and what had the teutons to do with the making of venice? and what of the similar movement in spain, africa, illyria, and gaul? if the foregoing criticism be valid, it must be further turned against the expressions of bishop stubbs concerning the effect of the teutonic conquest in setting up the romance literatures. "the breath of life of the new literatures," he writes (_const. hist._ th ed. i, ), "was germanic.... the poetry of the new nations is that of the leading race ... even in italy it owes all its sweetness and light to the _freedom_ which has breathed from beyond the alps." here the thesis shifts unavowedly from "race" to "freedom," and all the while no data whatever are offered for generalisations which decide in a line some of the root problems of sociology. a laborious scholar can thus write as if in matters of total historic generalisation there were needed neither proof nor argument, while the most patient research is needed to settle a single detail of particular history. on the whole, it may be psychologically accurate to say that the invaders, by setting up a new caste of freemen where before all classes were alike subordinate to the imperial tyranny, created a variation in the direction of a new self-government, the spectacle of privilege stimulating the unprivileged to desire it. but any conquest whatever might do this; and it is a plain paralogism to conclude that where the subjugated people does _not_ react the fault is its own, while where it does the credit is to go to the conquerors. it does not seem to have occurred to anyone to reason that the norman conquest of england was as such the bringer of the liberty later achieved there. yet, as regards the teutonic invasions of italy, the principle passes current on all sides; and guizot endorses it in one lecture (_hist. de la civ. en france_, i, ième leçon, _end_), though in the next he gives an objective account which practically discredits it. as regards the ideals of justice and freedom in general, the teutonic laws, being framed not for a normal barbarian state but for a society of conquerors and conquered, were in some respects rather more iniquitous than the roman. in particular the ostrogothic laws of theodoric and his son punish the crimes of the rich by fines, and put to death the poor for the same offences; while the degradation of the slave is in all the early teutonic codes constantly insisted on. (cp. milman, _hist. lat. chr._ th ed. ii, , and refs. roman law also, however, differed in practice for rich and poor. cp. cassiodorus, l. ii, pp. , ; iii, , ; iv, ; v, , and finlay, ed. cited. i, .) whether or not gregory the great, as has been asserted (milman, as cited, p. ), was the first to free slaves on the principle of human equality, he did not get the idea from the teutons. it took centuries, in any case, to develop the new upward tendency to a decisive degree. the frankish conquest, like others, disarmed and unwalled the population as far as possible; and it seems to have been only in the tenth century, when the hungarians repeatedly raided northern italy ( - ), and the saracens the southern coasts and the isles, that a general permission was given to the towns to defend themselves.[ ] this time the balance of power lay with the defence; and to the mere disorderliness of the barbarian rule on one hand may in part be attributed the relative success of the cities of the later empire as compared with those of the earlier. latin rome had not only disarmed its cities but accustomed them for centuries to ease and idleness; and before a numerous foe, bent on conquest, they made no resistance. goths, longobards, and franks in turn sought to keep all but their own strong places disarmed; but their system could not wholly prevent the growth of a militant spirit in the industrial towns. on the other hand, the hungarians and saracens were bent not on conquest but on mere plunder, and were thus manageable foes. had the normans, say, come at this time into italy, they could have overrun the quasi-teutonic communities as easily as the teutons had done the romans or each other. but the conditions being as they were, the swing was towards the independence of the cities; at first under the headship of the bishops, who in the period of collapse of the carlovingian empire obtained part of the authority previously wielded by counts.[ ] at this stage the bishop was by his position partly identified with the people, whom he would on occasion champion against the counts. thus a new conception of social organisation was shaped by the pressures of the times; and when otto came in the foundations of the republics were laid. the next stage was the effacement of the authority of the counts within the cities; the next an extension of the bishops' authority over the whole diocese, which was as a rule the old roman _civitas_ or county. thus the new municipalities came into being partly under the ægis of the church. hallam (_middle ages_, ch. iii, pt. i) describes sismondi as stating that otto "erected" the lombard cities into municipal communities, and dissents from that view. but sismondi (_républiques_, i, ) expressly says that there are no charters, and that the municipal independence of the cities is to be inferred from their subsequent claims of prescription. as there is nothing to show for any regular government from the outside in the preceding period of turmoil, the inference that _some_ self-government existed before and under otto is really forced upon us. ranke (_latin and teutonic nations_, eng. tr. p. ) pronounces that the first _consuls_ of the italian cities, chosen by themselves, appear at the date of the first crusade, . "beyond all question, we meet with them first in genoa on the occasion of an expedition to the holy land." (they appear again in at a meeting of reconciliation for all lombardy at milan. prof. w.f. butler, _the communes of lombardy_, , pp. - .) but this clearly does not exclude prior forms of self-government for domestic needs. consuls of some kind are noted "in fano and other places in ; in rome in ; orvieto, ; ravenna, ; ferrara, ; pisa and genoa, ; florence, ." boulting-sismondi, p. . (this last date appears to be an error. the document hitherto dated belongs to . villari, _two first centuries of florentine history_, eng. tr. pp. , . but there is documentary evidence for florentine consuls in . _id._ p. .) hallam himself points out that in the years - the annalists, in recording the wars of the cities, speak "of the people and not of their leaders, which is the true republican tone of history"; and notes that a contemporary chronicle shows the people of pavia and milan acting as independent states in . this state of things would naturally arise when the emperor and the nobles lived in a state of mutual jealousy. cp. bryce, _holy roman empire_, pp. - , - , , . mr. bryce does not attempt to clear up the dispute, but he recognises that the liberties of the cities would naturally "shoot up in the absence of the emperors and the feuds of the princes." and this is the view finally of heinrich leo: "seit otto bemerken wir eine auffallende aenderung in der politik der ganzen nördlichen italiens" (_geschichte von italien_, , i, ; bk. iv, kap. i, § ). leo points out that the granting of exemptions to the north italian cities came from the ottos. "it was not, however," he goes on, "as it has been supposed we must assume, the blending of roman _citizenship_ (which in the lombard cities had never existed[ ] in the form of commune or municipality [_gemeinde_]) with the lombard and german, but the blending of the survivors and the labourers, mostly of roman descent, with the almost entirely german-derived free _gemeinde_, through which the exemptions were obtained, and which gave a new aspect to the italian cities" (pp. - ). similarly karl hegel, after noting the analogies between roman _collegia_ and german gilds, decides that "the german gilds were of native (_einheimischen_) origin, the same needs setting up the same order of institutions." he adds that the christian church first evoked in the gilds a real brotherly feeling. (_städte und gilden der germanischen völker in mittelalter_, , einleit. p. .) he admits, however, that the gilds, when first traced under charlemagne, are forbidden under the name _gildonia_, as oath-societies; and that they seem to have been unknown among the franks (pp. , ). § almost concurrently with the new growth of political life in the cities, rural life readjusted itself under a system concerning the merits of which there has been as much dispute as concerning its origins--the system of feudalism. broadly speaking, that began in the relation between the leaders of the germanic invasion and their chief followers, who, receiving lands as their share, or at another time as a reward, were expected as a matter of course to back the king in time of war, and in their turn ruled their lands and retainers on that principle. when the principle of heredity was established as regarded the crown, it was necessarily affirmed as regards land tenures; and soon it was applied as a matter of course to nearly all the higher royal offices and "benefices" in the frankish empire,[ ] which after charlemagne became the model for the germanic and the french and english kingdoms. thus "the aristocratic system was in possession of society"; and the conflict which inevitably arose between the feudal baronage and the monarchic power served in time to aggrandise the cities, whose support was so important to both sides. [see stubbs, _constitutional history of england_, th ed. i, - , _note_, for a sketch of the discussion as to the rise of feudalism. it has been obscured, especially among the later writers, by lack of regard for exact and consistent statement. thus bishop stubbs endorses waitz's dictum that "the gift of an estate by the king involved no _defined_ obligation of service"; going on to say (p. ) that a king's _beneficium_ was received "with a _special undertaking_ to be faithful"; and again adding the footnote: "not a _promise_ of _definite_ service, but a _pledge_ to _continue faithful in the conduct in consideration of which the reward is given_." again, the bishop admits that by this condition the giver had a hold on the land, "through which he was able to enforce fidelity" (p. , _note_); yet goes on to say (p. ) that homage and fealty "depended on conscience only for their fulfilment." bishop stubbs further remarks (i, ) that there was a "_great difference in social results_ between french (= frankish) and german feudalism," by reason of the prostrate state of the old gallic population; going on however to add: "but the _result was the same_, feudal government, a graduated system of jurisdiction based on land tenure, in which every lord judged, taxed, and commanded the class next below him; in which abject slavery formed the lowest, and irresponsible tyranny the highest grade; in which private war, private coinage, private prisons, took the place of the imperial institutions of government." of course the bishop has previously (p. , _note_) endorsed waitz's view, that "_all_ the people were bound to be faithful to the king"; but the passage above cited seems to be his final generalisation.] whatever its social value, the feudal system is essentially a blend of roman and barbarian points of polity; and in france, the place of its development, gallic usage played a modifying part. it is dubiously described as growing up "from two great sources--the _beneficium_ and the practice of commendation"--the first consisting (_a_) in gifts of land by the kings out of their own estates, and (_b_) in surrenders of land to churches or powerful men, on condition that the surrenderer holds it as tenant for rent or service; while commendation consisted in becoming a vassal without any surrender of title. "the union of the beneficiary tie with that of commendation completed the idea of feudal obligation." the _beneficium_ again, "is partly of roman, partly of german origin," and "the reduction of a large roman population," nominally freemen under the roman system, "to dependence," placed it on a common footing with the german semi-free cultivator, "and conduced to the wide extension of the institution. commendation, on the other hand, may have had a gallic or celtic origin...." in one or other of these developments, the german _comitatus_ or chief's war-band, originally so different, "ultimately merged its existence." on the whole, then, the teutons followed gallo-roman leads. [see stubbs, i, , ; cp. p. ; and bryce, _holy roman empire_, pp. - . under otto, observes mr. bryce (p. ), "the institutions of primitive germany were almost all gone." elsewhere bishop stubbs decides (p. ) that "the essence of feudal law is custom," and again (p. ), that "no creative genius can be expected among the rude leaders of the tribes of north germany. the new life started at the point at which the old had been broken off." then in the matter of the feudal system, "the old" must have been mainly the gallo-roman, for feudalism arose in frankish gaul, not in germany. in an early passage (p. ) dr. stubbs confuses matters by describing the government of france as "originally little more than a simple adaptation of the old german polity to the government of a conquered race," but proceeds to admit that "the franks, gradually uniting in religion, blood, and language with the [romanised] gauls, retained and developed the idea of feudal subordination...." the rest of the sentence again introduces error. for a good general view of the evolution of feudalism see prof. abdy's _lectures on feudalism_, , lect. v-vii.] to pass a moral judgment on this system, either for or against, is to invert the problem. it was simply the most stable, or rather the most elastic arrangement possible in the species of society in which it arose; and we are now concerned with it merely as a conditioning influence in european civilisation. hallam, severe towards all other men's generalisations, lightly pronounces that "in the reciprocal services of lord and vassal, there was ample scope for every magnanimous and disinterested energy," and that "the heart of man, when placed in circumstances which have a tendency to excite them, will seldom be deficient in such sentiments." on the other hand he concedes that "the bulk of the people, it is true, were degraded by servitude," though he affirms that "this had no connection with the feudal tenures"; and he is forced to decide that "the peace and good order of society were not promoted by this system. though private wars did not originate in the feudal customs, it is impossible to doubt that they were perpetuated by so convenient an institution, which indeed owed its universal establishment to no other cause."[ ] the latter judgment sufficiently countervails the others; and the claim that feudalism was a school of moral discipline, which gradually substituted good faith for bad, will be endorsed by few students of the history of feudal times. a more plausible plea is that of sismondi, that the feudal nobles of italy, finding themselves resisted in the cities, which they had been wont to regard as their property, and finding the need of retainers for the defence of their castles, affranchised and protected their peasants as they had never done before. there resulted, he believes, an extension of agriculture which greatly increased the population in the tenth and eleventh centuries.[ ] this is partially provable, and it gives us the standpoint most favourable to feudalism; which on the other hand is seen in the main to have soon reached its constructive limits, and to have promoted division no less than union.[ ] it is important here to realise how in the new civilisation, with its new language, there subsisted simultaneously all of the forms of spontaneous aggregation which had been evolved in the older roman life. the aristocratic families in their very nomenclature exhibited anew the old evolution of the system of _gentes_, men being named "of the uberti," "of the buondelmonti," and so on. at the same time the industrial groups formed _their_ communities, as the _scholæ_ of workers had done of old; and in the political history of florence we see constitution after constitution built out of political units so formed. first came the primary patriotism of the family stock; then that of the trade or industrial group; and only as a balance of these separate and largely hostile interests did the city-state subsist. thus the new italian civilisation was on its political side fundamentally and organically atomistic, civic union being never a primary but always a secondary adjustment among groups whose first loyalty was to the primary fraternity. it was hard enough to evolve out of all this a common civic interest: to rise yet higher was impossible to the men of that era. and all the while the separate corporation of the church, despite its inner feuds, tended to seek its separate interest as against all others. as regards italy, then, the value of the imperial feudal system, operating through the machinery of the bishoprics, was that it freed the energies of the cities, where alone the higher civilisation could germinate; but on the other hand it fostered in them a spirit of localism and separatism[ ] that was ultimately fatal. the old roman unity had been completely broken up by the invasions, by the strifes of goths and byzantines, by the sheer need for individual defence; and the empire, warring with the papacy, fixed the tendency. genoa, pisa, florence, milan, and the smaller cities alike felt and acted as independent states, each against the other, forming occasional alliances only as separate nations or kings might do. in the ever-changing conflict of nobles, emperor, pope, cities, and bishops, all parties alike developed the spirit of self-assertion,[ ] and wrought for their own special incorporation. at times prelates and cities combined against nobles, as under conrad the salic ( - ), who was forced to revise the feudal law and free the remaining serfs; later, members of each species sided with pope or emperor in the strifes of hildebrandt and henry iv and their successors over the question of investitures, till the general interest compelled a peace. during these ages of inconclusive conflict the cities, thus far acting mainly in conjunction with their bishops or archbishops, developed their militia; their _caroccio_ or banner-bearing fighting-car; and their institution of public election of consuls. here the very name tells of the power of the roman tradition, as against the supposed capacity of the teutonic races for spontaneous free organisation and self-government--tells too of the survival of a majority of roman-speaking people even in the upper and middle classes of the cities. we may readily grant, as against savigny and his disciples, that the roman institution of the _curia_ had not been preserved in the cities of lombardy. there was no reason why it should have been, even if the longobard kings had been inclined to use it as a means of extorting taxation; for in the last ages of the empire it had become detestable to the upper citizens themselves. [savigny's proposition seems to be sufficiently confuted in a page or two by leo, _geschichte von italien_, , i, , . karl hegel later wrote a whole treatise to the same effect, _geschichte der stadtverfassung von italien_, leipzig, . see also f. morin, _origines de la démocratie_, e ed. , pp. - , , , , etc. guizot uncritically followed raynouard, who held with or anticipated savigny. as to the general revolt against the _curia_, cp. leo, i, , and guizot, _civilisation en france_, i, - . as to the theory of a roman basis for the early civic organisation of saxon britain, cp. pearson, _history of england during the early and middle ages_, , i, ; scarth, _roman britain_, app. i; stubbs, _constitutional history of england_, th ed. i, ; and karl hegel, _städte und gilden der germanischen völker im mittelalter_, , einleit. pp. , , .] but other roman institutions remained even in the lombard cities, in respect of the organisation of trades and commerce;[ ] and apart from the roman survivals at ravenna,[ ] the free cities of the coast, which had remained nominally attached to byzantium, had _their_ elective institutions, not specially democratic, but sufficiently "free" to incite the lombard towns to similar procedure.[ ] venice in particular was moulded from the first by byzantine influences. "industry, commerce, economic methods, and financial institutions were affected as much as manners, the arts, and even religious life. greek was the language of eastern trade, and served many venetians as a second tongue."[ ] venice and genoa alike developed a national police on byzantine lines, prescribing the shape, construction, and manning of vessels[ ] in the very spirit of late imperial rome. and the cities of the peninsula could not but be similarly influenced. at all events it was in the train of these earlier developments, and perhaps in some degree on stimulus from papal rome, that the new organic life of the lombard and tuscan cities began to develop itself in the tenth and eleventh centuries. the first seats of new commerce were in those cities to which, as we have seen, numbers of the old italian population had fled before the gothic invaders. amalfi was such a seat even in the ninth century; and to its merchants is credited the first traffic with the east in the saracen period, as well as the first employment of the mariner's compass in navigation.[ ] next flourished pisa, where also, perhaps, the ancient commerce had never wholly died out;[ ] then her successful rivals, genoa and venice. and always commerce formed the basis of the revival. once begun, the new life was extraordinarily energetic on the industrial and constructive side, the independence and rivalry of so many communities securing for the time the maximum of effort. already in the seventh century, indeed, their industry stood for a new era in history.[ ] where before even the men of the cities had gone clad in skins after the manner of the barbarian conquerors, they now began to weave for themselves woollen cloths like the civilised ancients.[ ] soon the art of weaving the finer cloths, which had hitherto been imported from greece in so far as they were used at all, followed the simpler craft of wool-weaving.[ ] it was in these cities that architecture may be said to have had its first general revival in western europe since the beginning of the decay of rome. walls, towers, ports, quays, canals, municipal palaces, prisons, churches, cathedrals--such were the first outward and visible signs of the new era in italian civilisation.[ ] on these foundations were to follow the literature and the art and science which began the civilisation of modern europe, the whole presided over and in part ordered and inspired by the recovered use of the great system of ancient roman law, which too began to be redelivered to europe early in the twelfth century from italian bologna. [the public buildings of the eleventh century are to this day among the greatest in italy. cp. sismondi with testa, _history of the war of frederick i against the communes of lombardy_, eng. trans, p. . before the tenth century the houses were mostly of wood, and thatched with straw or shingles (testa, p. ). it seems highly probable that the great development of building in the eleventh century was due to the sense of a new lease of life which came upon christendom when it was found that the world did not come to an end, as had been expected, with the year . that expectation must have gone far to paralyse all activity towards the end of the tenth century.] and whereas the common political path to independence had been originally by way of the headship of the bishop as against the count, that headship in turn disappears during the eleventh century without any visible or general cataclysm. it would seem as if, when the obsessing fear of the end of the world with which men entered the year had passed away, the secular spirit recovered new life; and the intimate tyranny of the feudal representative of the military monarch being no longer a danger, the hand of the bishop was in turn thrown off. for a time the combination of city and prelate was politically valid, as in the case of archbishop aribert of milan, under whose nominal rule the civic _caroccio_ seems to have made its appearance; but even aribert was shelved before his death, in the course of a civil strife between the people and the nobles. thenceforward, for an age, the great lombard city practically ruled itself, the nobles being included in a compromise brought about by lanzone, who, himself a noble, had led the faction of the burghers. fresh strifes followed, in which the succeeding archbishops bore part; but the virtual autonomy of the city remained.[ ] a similar evolution took place throughout northern italy, in a sufficiently simple fashion. the bishops were still in large measure elected by the people, and rival candidates for vacant sees were always ready to outbid each other in surrendering political functions which were becoming ever harder to fulfil.[ ] beyond this, the course of the final stage of the emancipation of the cities is not traceable. "all that we can say is that at the opening of the eleventh century the bishops exercised in the cities the authority which had formerly been vested in the counts: at the close the cities have reduced the prelates to insignificance, and stand before us as so many free republics."[ ] "the power of the bishops was the calyx which for a certain time had kept the flower of italian life close-packed within the bud. then the calyx weakened and opened, and italian civic life unfolded itself to the eye to form and bear fruit."[ ] to this, however, we should add that in florence the process was somewhat different. under the franks, florence was ruled, like other cities, by a count, who replaced the longobard duke; and under the later germanic empire all tuscany, and some further territory, is found ruled by a marquis, or markgraf, ugo, in the tenth century. in the latter part of the tenth century his descendant matilda sided with hildebrandt against the emperor. at this period florence was a centre of the papal movement of monastic reform; and the people actually rose against a simoniacal bishop, whom they fought for five years[ ] ( - ). here, under the rule of countess matilda, the republic or "commune" is seen growing up rather of its own faculty than by help of the bishop; it already calls itself _populus florentinus_;[ ] and after matilda's death in , it speedily develops the self-governing functions which it had partially exercised in her lifetime.[ ] and florence, be it noted, was the most democratic in population of the northern cities from the beginning.[ ] in no case, however, should we be right in supposing that "republic" or "commune" or "free city" meant a population united in devotion to a civic ideal. the eternal impulses of strife and repulsion had in no degree been eliminated by the formation of new state units. in florence we find all the elements of greek _stasis_ at work in the first century of the commune.[ ] among the _grandi_ were men who had risen from the people, and men descended from old feudal houses; and these spontaneously ranged themselves in factions. such a division furthered imperialism by inclining groups to take the side of the emperor, who, wherever he could, set up his _podestà_ (_potestas_ or "authority") in the cities.[ ] imperialistic nobles further formed groups called "societies of the towers," each of which had its common defensive tower or fort, communicating with the houses of neighbouring members; the officials of these societies were at times called consuls; and from these were usually chosen, in the early days, the consuls of the commune.[ ] at times they were also consuls of trade guilds, a state of things proving a certain amount of assimilation between the trading and the noble class, who together formed the enfranchised "people," the town artisans and the rural cultivators of the surrounding _contado_ or "county" being excluded. the close community thus formed exhibited very much the same political tendencies as had marked that of early republican rome. the cities, constantly flouted and menaced by the castled nobility of the surrounding territory, who blackmailed passing traders, soon learned to use the iron hand as against these, who in turn sought the emperor's protection; and cities wont to put down nobles were prompt to seek to coerce each other. on the death of the emperor frederick i ( ), florence set on foot a league of the tuscan cities, which, while primarily hostile to the empire, repelled the claim of the papacy to over-lordship as heir of the countess matilda. on such a basis there might conceivably have arisen a new and strong national life; but soon florence, like old athens, was oppressing her allies, who gave their sympathy to a town like semifonte, the refuge of all who fled from places conquered and taxed by her. to individual allies like sienna, florence was substantially faithless, and so strengthened from the first the fatal tendency to separatism--this while the inner social sunderance was steadily deepening.[ ] none of the forces at work was remedial on this side; the regimen of the _podestà_, even when he was actually a foreigner, furthered instead of checking strife between communities;[ ] and the more "aristocratic" cities were at least as quarrelsome as the less. bologna played the tyrant city as vigorously as florence.[ ] rome was among the worst governed of all. in the thirteenth century, under innocent iv, we find the fighting factions of the nobles using the coliseum and other ancient monuments as fortresses, garrisoned by bandits in their pay, who pillaged traders and passengers; and not the papacy, but the "senator" chosen by the people--a bolognese noble--put them down, hanging nobles and bandits alike.[ ] such was civilisation at the centre of christendom after a thousand years of christianity. the notable fact is that through all this wild play of primitive passion there _was_ yet growing up a new italian civilisation; and it is part of our task to trace its causation. footnotes: [footnote : _germania_, c. .] [footnote : for a good view of the many points in common between teutonic barbarism and normal savagery, see the synopsis of guizot, _histoire de la civilisation en france_, i, ième leçon. lamprecht acquiesces (_what is history?_ , p. ).] [footnote : "everything about them [the longobards], even for many years after they have entered upon the sacred soil of italy, speaks of mere savage delight in bloodshed and the rudest forms of sensual indulgence" (hodgkin, _italy and her invaders_, nd ed. v, . cp. lamprecht, _what is history?_ pp. - .)] [footnote : ranke's statement (_latin and teutonic nations._ eng. tr. p. ) that the "collective german nations at last brought about" a latino-teutonic unity is a merely empirical proposition, true in no organic sense.] [footnote : gibbon, ch. , bohn ed. i, .] [footnote : it is true that none of the generals mentioned was an italian. stilicho was indeed a vandal; aetius was a scythian; belisarius was a thracian; and narses probably a persian. but they handled armies made up of all races; and their common qualification was a military science to be learned only from roman tradition. cp. finlay, _history of greece from its conquest by the romans_, ed. , i, .] [footnote : paulus orosius, vii, . the record has every appearance of trustworthiness, the historian premising that at bethlehem he heard the blessed jerome tell how he had known a wise old inhabitant of narbonne, who was highly placed under theodosius, and had known athaulf intimately; and who often told jerome how that great and wise king thus delivered himself.] [footnote : sismondi, citing the _diplomata_, tom. iv, p. .] [footnote : because of his contempt for the religious controversies to which the literature of his time mainly ran.] [footnote : see gregorovius, _geschichte der stadt rom_, b. ii, kap. , as to his constant concern for culture and established usage.] [footnote : cassiodorus, . i, c. ; iii, ; iv, , . cp. finlay, ed. cited, i, , _note_. at the same time it is to be remembered that the population was in some districts greatly reduced. see below, p. . and there were, of course, italian scarcities from time to time. cassiodorus, v, ; x, ; xi, .] [footnote : cp. gibbon, ch. (bohn ed. iv, - ), as to the general care of the administration and the prosperity of agriculture.] [footnote : "gross war ruhm und glanz seines [theodoric's] reiches; die inneren schäden und gefahren desselben blieben damals noch verhüllt, kaum etwa dem kaiser und den merovingen erkennbar" (f. dahn, _urgeschichte der germanischen und romanischen völker_, in oncken's _allg. gesch._ , i, ).] [footnote : machiavelli points out (_istorie fiorentine_, . i) that this was the result of their having, at the death of their tyrant clef, suspended the election of kings and set up the system of thirty dukes or marquises--an arrangement unfavourable to further conquest.] [footnote : see guizot, _essais sur l'histoire de france_, e édit. pp. , , . but cp. pp. - as to the rise of hereditary feudality. cp. also the _histoire de la civilisation en france_, e édit. iii, ; iv, - .] [footnote : cp. sismondi, _républiques italiennes_, ed. cited, i, .] [footnote : guizot, _histoire de la civilisation en france_, ii, , ; bryce, _holy roman empire_, th ed. pp. - .] [footnote : see guizot's table, pp. - .] [footnote : for a favourable view of the case see schröder's _geschichte karl's des grossen_, , kapp. , ; bryce, as cited, pp. - ; and gregorovius, _geschichte der stadt rom_, b. v, kap. i, § . gregorovius (p. ) calls charlemagne "the moses of the middle ages, who had happily led mankind through the wilderness of barbarism"--a proposition grounded on race-pride rather than on evidence.] [footnote : cp. poole, _illustrations of the history of medieval thought_, , pp. - , .] [footnote : there is reason to infer that the very movement of theological thought which marks the ninth century was due to moslem contacts. these might have been more fruitful under peace conditions than under those of charlemagne's campaigns.] [footnote : _républiques_, i, . "the holy roman empire, taking the name ... as denoting the sovereignty of germany and italy vested in a germanic prince, is the creation of otto the great" (bryce, _holy roman empire_, p. ). gregorovius, instead of giving otto some such praise as he bestows on karl, pronounces this time that "the roman empire was now regenerated by the german _nation_" (b. vi, kap. iii, § ).] [footnote : guizot, _civilisation_, iii, ; sismondi, _républiques_, i, . in his _essais_, however (p. , etc.), guizot speaks of the "belle mais stérile tentative de charlemagne." see the problem discussed in the author's essay on gibbon, in _pioneer humanists_, p. sq.] [footnote : sismondi, _républiques_, i, . see below, pp. - .] [footnote : _e.g._ wieseler, _die deutsche nationalität der kleinasiatischen galater_, ; holtzmann, _kelten und germanen_, .] [footnote : _history of rome_, bk. ii, ch. iv.] [footnote : the author has examined a later deliverance of mommsen's on the subject in _the saxon and the celt_, pt. iii, § .] [footnote : in a later passage (bk. v, ch. ) mommsen credits the celts with "unsurpassed fervour of national feeling." his history abounds in such contradictions.] [footnote : in the passage cited in the last note, the historian asserts that the celts were unable "to attain, or barely to tolerate ... any sort of fixed military discipline." such is the consistency of malice.] [footnote : cp. elton, _origins of english history_, nd ed. , p. .] [footnote : tacitus, _germania_, c. ; cæsar, _bell. gall._ vi, .] [footnote : see virchow, as cited in penka's _die herkunft der arier_, , p. .] [footnote : "never was there a more rapid conquest than that of the vast kingdom of the vandals" (sismondi, _fall of the roman empire_, eng. tr. i. ).] [footnote : u.r. burke, _history of spain_, hume's ed. i. . the special explanation of the visgothic decadence is held by this historian to lie ( ) in the elective character of the monarchy, which left the king powerless to check the extortions of the nobles who degraded and enfeebled the common people, and ( ) in the ascendency of the church.] [footnote : burke, as cited, i. .] [footnote : cp. prof. paul vinogradoff, _villainage in england_, , pp. - , .] [footnote : guizot (_hist. de la civ. en france_, i, e leçon) has an extraordinary passage to the effect that while german and english civilisation was german _in origin_, that of france is _romaine dès ses premiers pas_. as if there had not been a primary gallic society as well as a germanic. if mommsen be right, the galli before their conquest were much more advanced in civilisation than the germani. in point of fact, the celtæ of southern france had commercial contact with the greeks before they had any with the romans. and in the very passage under notice, guizot goes on to say that the life and institutions of _northern_ france had been essentially _germanic_. the theorem is hopelessly confused. the plain facts are that german "civilisation" came from italy and romanised gaul, albeit later, as fully as did that of gaul from italy.] [footnote : cp. prof. butler, _the lombard communes_, , pp. , - .] [footnote : poole, _illustrations_, as cited, p. .] [footnote : for a pleasing attempt to retain the credit for teutonism, on the score that german invaders had "determined the character of the population" in the region of paris, where the new architecture arose, see dr. e. richard's _history of german civilisation_, new york, , pp. - . it is not explained at what stage the german responsibility for french evolution ceased.] [footnote : burke, as cited, i, . on the "gothic mania," cp. michelet, _hist. de france_, vii--_renaissance_: introd. § and note in app.] [footnote : sismondi, _fall of the roman empire_, as cited, i, , , .] [footnote : gibbon, ch. , _end_.] [footnote : above, pp. .] [footnote : citations in gibbon, ch. ; bohn ed. iv, . for a somewhat fuller sketch than gibbon's see manso, _geschichte des ost-gothischen reiches in italien_, , §§ - . cp. spalding, _italy_, i, - . it is possible that gelasius and ambrose were thinking mainly of the disappearance of the landowners, and were overlooking the serfs. deserted villas would give the effect of desolation while the mass of the common people remained.] [footnote : sismondi, _fall_, i, . cp. gibbon, ch. ; bohn ed. iv, .] [footnote : sismondi, _fall_, i, ; gibbon, ch. , ed. cited, v. - .] [footnote : gibbon, as cited, v, .] [footnote : sismondi, _fall_, i, . the movement, as sismondi notes, extended to spain, to africa, to illyria, and to gaul.] [footnote : butler, _the communes of lombardy_, p. .] [footnote : sismondi, _fall_, i, . the historian decides that "the race of the conquerors took root and throve in the soil, without _entirely_ superseding that of the conquered natives, _whose language still prevailed_," but gives no proofs for the first proposition. the uncritical handling of these questions in the histories leaves essential problems still unsolved. cp. hodgkin, _italy and her invaders_, nd ed. vi (bk. vii), - ; vii (bk. viii), , . mr. boulting does not try to solve the problem.] [footnote : this is again sismondi's generalisation (_histoire des républiques italiennes_, ed. , i, ; _short history_, p. ; boulting-sismondi, p. ). he has been followed by procter (perceval's _history of italy_, , nd ed. , p. ); by dunham (_europe in the middle ages_, i, ); by symonds (_renaissance in italy_, nd ed. i, ); and by prof. w.f. butler (_the communes of lombardy_, p. ). it is noteworthy that at the same period henry the fowler encouraged free cities in germany for the same reason.] [footnote : butler, pp. - ; boulting-sismondi, pp. - .] [footnote : _note by leo._--"except in the cities acquired latest, and by capitulation from the romans"--_i.e._ the greek empire.] [footnote : guizot, _essais_, pp. - ; stubbs, i, . cp. refs. in buckle, author's ed. p. - .] [footnote : _europe during the middle ages_, ch. ii, pt. ii, _end_. compare hodgkin on "the feudal anarchy which history has called, with unintended irony, the feudal system," and on the fashion in which, in the capitularies of charlemagne, "we have imperial sanction given to that most anti-social of all feudal practices, the levying of private war" (_italy and her invaders_, viii, - ).] [footnote : _short history_, p. . "the liberated agricultural classes multiplied rapidly, and brought vast tracts of abandoned soil under cultivation" (boulting, p. ). it probably needed such an expansion, we may note, to make possible the crusades.] [footnote : sismondi finally decides that in the tenth century feudalism had induced in the main rather a dissolution than an organisation of society (_républiques_, i, - ). cp. guizot, _history de la civ. en france_, as cited, iii, , - , iv, - ; _essais_, v; and boulting, p. .] [footnote : cp. sismondi, _républiques_, i, - .] [footnote : see neander, _church history_, eng. tr., vii, _sq._ and milman, _hist. latin christ._, lv, _sq._, as to hildebrandt's efforts to win public opinion to his side against clerical marriage, and the resulting growth of private judgment.] [footnote : "die abtheilung in zünfte und die daran sich anknüpfende markt-polizei mögen die einzigen institute aus römischer zeit sein, die sich auch unter den longobarden erhielten" (leo, i, ; cp. p. ). cp. villari, _two first centuries_, eng. trans, pp. - .] [footnote : leo decides (i, ) that in ravenna between and there appear "gar keine stadtconsuln in urkunden, aber wohl leute, die sich _ex genere consulum_ nennen." cp. boulting-sismondi, p. .] [footnote : as the general governor elected by the venetians to stay their dissensions ( ) bore the title of doge or duke, which was that borne by the greek governors of italian provinces, the influence of imperial example must be admitted, especially as venice continued to profess allegiance to the greek empire. the cities of naples, gaeta, and amalfi, again, while connected only nominally and commercially with byzantium, gave the title of doge to their first magistrate likewise (sismondi, _short history_, pp. , ).] [footnote : nys. _researches in the history of economics_, eng. trans. , p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : cp. pignotti, _hist. of tuscany_, eng. trans. , iii, ; hallam, _middle ages_, th ed. iii, , . it is clear that the polarity of the magnet was known long before the practical use of it in the compass.] [footnote : hallam, iii, ; pignotti, iii, - .] [footnote : sismondi, _républiques_, i, , .] [footnote : pignotti, iii, - ; dante, _paradiso_, xv, .] [footnote : pignotti, iii, .] [footnote : "the citizens ( - ) allowed themselves no other use of their riches than that of defending or embellishing their country" (sismondi, _short history_, p. ).] [footnote : butler, _the communes of lombardy_, pp. - .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : leo, as cited, i, .] [footnote : villari, _two first centuries_, p. _sq._] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _id._ pp. - .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _id._ pp. , , , .] [footnote : _id._ pp. , .] [footnote : villari, _two first centuries_, pp. - .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : sismondi, _short history_, p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] chapter ii the social and political evolution § in the twelfth century, then, we find in the full flush of life a number of prosperous italian republics or "communes," closely resembling in many respects the city-states of ancient greece. the salient differences were ( ) the christian church, with its wealth[ ] and its elaborate organisation; ( ) the pretensions of the empire; and ( ) the presence of feudal nobles, some of whom were first imposed by the german emperors on the cities, and who, after their exodus and their life as castle-holders, had in nearly every case compromised with the citizens, spending some months of every year in their town palaces by stipulation of the citizens themselves. all of these differentia counted for the worse to italy, in comparison with hellas, as aggravations of the uncured evil of internal strife. the source of their strength--separateness and the need to struggle--was at the same time the source of their bane; for at no time do we find the italian republics contemplating durable peace even as an ideal, or regarding political union as aught save a temporary expedient of the state of war. on the familiar assumption of "race character" we should accordingly proceed to decide that the italians, by getting mixed with the teutons, had lost the "instinct of union" which built up rome. those who credit "teutonic blood" with the revival never think of saddling it with the later ruinous strifes of cities and parties, or with the vices of the "italian character." the rational explanation is, of course, that there was now neither a sufficient preponderance of strength in any one state to admit of its unifying italy by conquest, nor such a concurrence of conditions as could enable any state to become thus preponderant; while on the other hand the empire and the church, each fighting for its own hand, were perpetual fountains of discord. the factions of guelph (papal) and ghibelline[ ] (imperial) stereotyped and intensified for centuries every proclivity to strife inherent in the italian populations. all the cities alike were at once industrial and military, with the exception of rome; and for all alike a career of mere plunder was out of the question, though every city sought to enlarge its territory. forcible unification could conceivably be wrought only by the emperor or the papacy; and in the nature of things these powers became enemies, carrying feud into the heart of every city in italy, as well as setting each on one or the other side according as the majority swayed for the moment. at times, as after the destruction of milan by frederick barbarossa, hatred of the foreigner and despot could unite a number of cities in a powerful league; but though the emperor was worsted there was no excising the trouble of the separate interests of the bishops and the nobles, or that of the old jealousies and hatreds of many of the cities for each other. pope innocent iv, after the death of frederick ii in , turned against the papacy many of the milanese by his arrogance. they had made immense sacrifices for the guelph cause; and their reward was to be threatened with excommunication for an ecclesiastical dispute.[ ] the christian religion not only did not avail to make italians less madly quarrelsome than pagan greeks: it embittered and complicated every difference; and if the cities could have agreed to keep out the germans, the papacy would not have let them. commonly it played them one against the other, preaching union only when there was a question of a crusade. some writers, even non-catholics, have spoken of the papacy as a unifying factor in italian life. machiavelli, who was pretty well placed for knowing where the shoe pinched, repeatedly (_istorie fiorentine_, l. i; _discorsi sopra tito livio_, i, ) speaks of it bitterly as being at all times the source of invasion and of disunion in italy. this is substantially the view of gregorovius (_geschichte der stadt rom_, b. iv, cap. iii, § ) as to the process in the city of rome to begin with. so also symonds: "the whole history of italy proves that machiavelli was right when he asserted that the church had persistently maintained the nation in disunion for the furtherance of her own selfish ends" (_renaissance in italy: the age of the despots_, ed. , p. ). as a civilising lore or social science the religion of professed love and fraternity, itself a theatre of divisions and discords,[ ] counted literally for less than nothing against the passions of ignorance, egoism, and patriotism; for ignorant all orders of the people still were--more ignorant than the greeks of athens--in the main matters of political knowledge and self-knowledge.[ ] yet such is the creative power of free intelligence even in a state of strife--given but the conditions of economic furtherance and variety of life and of culture-contact--that in this warring italy of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries there grew up a civilisation almost as manifold as that of hellas itself. the elements of variety, of culture, and of competition were present in nearly as potent a degree. in the north, in particular, the lombard, and tuscan, and other cities differed widely in their industries. florence, besides being one of the great centres of european banking, was eminently the city of various occupations, manufacturing and trading in woollens and silks and gold brocades, working in gold and jewelry, the metals, and leather, and excelling in dyes. in the reformed constitution specified twelve _arti_ or crafts, seven major and five minor, the latter list being later increased to fourteen.[ ] pisa, beginning as a commercial seaport, trading with the east, whither she exported the iron of elba, became the first great seat of the woollen manufacture.[ ] milan, besides silks and woollens, manufactured in particular weapons and armour. genoa had factories of wool, cotton, silk, maroquin, leather, embroidery, and silver and gold thread.[ ] bologna was in a special degree a culture city, with its school of law, and as such would have its special minor industries. but indeed every one of the countless italian republics, with its specialty of dialect, of life, and of outward aspect, must have had something of its own to contribute to the complex whole.[ ] in the south the norman kingdom set up in the eleventh century meant yet another norm of life, for there frederick ii established the university of naples; and saracen contact told alike on thought and imagination. all through these regions there now reigned something like a common speech, the skeleton of old latin newly suppled and newly clothed upon; and for all educated men the latin itself was the instrument of thought and intercourse. for them, too, the church and the twofold law constituted a common ground of culture and discipline. on this composite soil, under heats of passion and stresses of warring energies, there gradually grew the many-seeded flower of a new literature. gradual indeed was the process. italy, under stress of struggle, was still relatively backward at a time when germany and france, and even england, under progressive conditions quickened with studious life;[ ] and there was a great intellectual movement in france, in particular, in the twelfth century, when italy had nothing of the kind to show, save as regarded the important part played by the law school of bologna in educating jurists for the whole of western europe. for other developments there still lacked the needed conditions, both political and social. the first economic furtherance given to mental life by the cities seems to have been the endowment of law schools and chronicle-writers; the schools of ravenna and bologna, and the first chronicles, dating from the eleventh century. salerno had even earlier had a medical school, long famous, which may or may not have been municipally endowed.[ ] to the church, as against her constant influence for discord and her early encouragement of illiteracy,[ ] must be credited a share in these beginnings. after the law school of bologna (whence in was founded that of padua, by a secession of teachers and students at strife with the citizens) had added medicine and philology to its chairs, the papacy gave it a faculty of theology; and in rome itself the church had established a school of law. the first great literary fruit of this intellectual ferment is the _summa theologiae_ of st. thomas aquinas ( - ), a performance in which the revived study of aristotle, set up by the stimulus of saracen culture, is brought by a capacious and powerful mind to the insuperable task of philosophising at once the christian creed and the problems of christendom. close upon this, the latin expression of accepted medieval thought, comes the great achievement of dante, wherein a new genius for the supreme art of rhythmic speech has preserved for ever the profound vibration of all the fierce and passionate italian life of the middle ages. in his own spirit he carries it all, save its vice and levity. its pitiless cruelty, its intellectuality, its curious observation, its ingrained intolerance, its piercing flashes of tenderness, its capacity for intense and mystic devotion, its absolute dogmatism in every field of thought, the whole pell-mell of its vehement experience, throbs through every canto of his welded strain. and no less does he incarnate for ever its fatal incapacity for some political compromise. for dante, politics is first and last a question of the dominance of his faction: his fellow-citizens are for him guelphs or ghibellines, and he shares the florentine rabies against rival or even neighbouring towns; his imperialism serving merely to extend the field of blind strife, never to subject strife to the play of reason. exiled for faction by the other faction, he foreshadows the doom of florence. § with dante we are already in the fourteenth century, close upon petrarch and boccaccio; and already the whole course of political things is curving back to tyranny, for lack of faculty in the cities, placed as they were, to learn the lesson of politics. their inhabitants could neither combine as federations to secure well-being for all of their own members, nor cease to combine as groups against each other. always their one principle of union remained negative--animal hatred of city to city, of faction to faction. it is important then to seek for a clear notion of the forces which fostered mental life and popular prosperity alongside of influences which wrought for demoralisation and dissolution. taking progress to consist on one hand in increase and diffusion of knowledge and art, and on the other in better distribution of wealth, we find that slavery, to begin with, was substantially extinguished in the time of conflict between cities, barons, and emperor. already in the fifth century the process had begun in gaul. guizot treats the change from slave to free labour as a mystery. "quand et comment il s'opéra au sein du monde romain, je ne le sais pas; et personne, je crois, ne l'a découvert; mais ... au commencement du ve siècle, ce pas était fait; il y avait, dans toutes les grandes villes de la gaule, une classe assez nombreuse d'artisans libres; déjà même ils étaient constitués en corporations.... la plupart des corporations, dont on a continué d'attribuer l'origine au moyen âge, remontent, dans le midi de la gaule surtout et en italie, au monde romain" (_civilisation en france_, i, ). but a few pages before (p. ) we are told that at the _end_ of the _fourth_ century free men commenced in crowds to seek the protection of powerful persons. on this we have the testimony of salvian (_de gubernatione dei_, lib. v). the solution seems to be that the "freed" class in the rural districts were the serfs of the glebe, who, as we have seen, were rapidly substituted for slaves in italy in the last age of the empire; and that in the towns in the same way the crumbling upper class slackened its hold on its slaves. both in town and country such detached poor folk would in time of trouble naturally seek the protection of powerful persons, thus preparing the way for feudalism. at the same time the barbarian conquerors maintained slavery as a matter of course, so that in the transition period slaves were perhaps more numerous than ever before (cp. milman, _hist. lat. christ._ th ed. ii, - ; lecky, _european morals_, ed. , ii, ). whatever were the case in the earlier ages of barbarian irruption, it seems clear that during the dark ages the general tendency was to reduce "small men" in general to a servile status, whether they were of the conquering or the conquered stock. cp. guizot, _essais_, as cited, pp. - ; _civilisation_, iii, , - (leçons , ). the different grades of _coloni_ and _servi_ tended to approximate to the same subjection in europe as in the england of the twelfth century. but in france and italy betterment seems to have set in about the eleventh century; and the famous ordinance of louis the fat in (given by guizot, iii, ) tells of a general movement, largely traceable to the crusades, which in this connection wrought good for the tillers of the soil in the process of squandering the wealth of their masters. cp. duruy, _hist. de france_, ed. , i, . the process of causation is still somewhat obscure, and is further beclouded by _a priori_ views and prepossessions as to the part played by religion in the change. the fact that the catholic church everywhere, though the last to free her own slaves,[ ] encouraged penitents to free theirs, is taken as a phenomenon of religion, though we have seen slavery of the worst description[ ] flourishing within the past century in a devoutly protestant community. pope urban ii actually reduced to slavery the wives of priests who refused to submit to the law of celibacy, handing them over to the nobles or bishops.[ ] the rational inference is that the motives in the medieval abandonment of slavery, as in its disuse towards the end of the roman empire, and as in its later re-establishments in christian states, were economic--that ( ) nobles on the one hand and burghers on the other found it to their advantage to free their slaves for military purposes,[ ] by way of getting money; ( ) that the church in the dark ages actually had to enrol many serfs as priests, the desire of freemen to escape military service by taking orders having made necessary a prohibitory law;[ ] and ( ) that the church further promoted the process,[ ] especially during the crusading period, because a free laity was to her more profitable than one of slaves--as apart from her own serfs. freemen could be made to pay clerical dues: slaves could not, save on a very small scale. see larroque, as cited, ch. ii. the claim of guizot (_essais_, p. ; _civ. en europe_, leç. ) that the religious character of most of the formulas of enfranchisement proves them to have had a specially christian motive, is pure fallacy. before christianity the process of manumission was a religious solemnity, being commonly carried out in the pagan temples (cp. a. calderini, _la manomissione e la condizione dei liberti in grecia_, , p. _sq._), and there were myriads of freedmen. it appears from cicero (_philipp._ viii, , cited by wallon, _hist. de l'esclavage dans l'antiquité_, ii, ) that a well-behaved slave might expect his liberty in six years. among the acts of constantine to establish christianity was the transference of this function of manumission from the pagan temples to the churches. thus christianity took over the process, like the idea of "natural equality" itself, from the pagans. and the principle goes farther. in adam smith's not altogether coherent discussion of the general question,[ ] the unprofitableness of slave labour in comparison with free is urged, probably rightly, as counting for much more than the alleged bull of alexander iii ( th century); while the interest of the sovereign as against the noble is noted as a further factor. as regards the "love of domination" to which smith attributes the slowness of slave-owners to see the inferiority of slave labour, it is to be remembered that the roman slave-owner was fixed in his bias by the perpetual influx of captives and cheap slaves from the east; that this resource was lacking to the medieval italians, who had to take the costly course of breeding most of their slaves; and that in such circumstances the concurrent pressure of all the other causes mentioned could very well suffice to make emancipation general. while the lowest stratum of the people was thus being raised, the state of war was for a time comparatively harmless by reason of the primitiveness of the fighting. the cities were all alike walled, and incapable of capture in the then state of military technique;[ ] so they had periodical conflicts[ ] which often came to nothing, and involved no heavy outlay; even the long struggle with barbarossa was much less vitally costly to the cities than to germany. frederick's eight variously devastating campaigns, ending in frustration, were the beginning of the medieval demoralisation of germany,[ ] to which such a policy meant retrogression in industry and agriculture; while the lombards, traders and cultivators first, and soldiers only secondarily, rapidly made good all their heavy losses. it was when the practice of war grew more and more systematic under frederick ii, and the policy of cities became more and more capricious for or against the emperor, that their mutual animosities became more commonly savage. thus we read that in "the parmesans were overthrown by the cremonese, losing , men. the captives were bound in the gravel-pit near the taro ... the whole population seemed to have been captured. the cremonese tortured them shamefully, drawing their teeth and ramming toads into their mouths. the exiles from parma were more cruel to their countrymen than the cremonese were."[ ] and, indeed, the parmesans a century before had burned borgo san donnino and led away all its inhabitants as prisoners.[ ] now the cremonese threw into prison , of their parmesan enemies; and when after a year the dungeons were thrown open, only remained alive.[ ] thus civilisation in effect went backwards on several lines at once, the spirit of internecine strife growing step by step with the economic process under which the community divided into rich and poor, as formerly into noble and plebeian. up till the end of the thirteenth century, however, the growth of capital went on slowly,[ ] and the division between rich and poor was not deep, the less so because thus far the middle and upper classes held by the sentiment of civic patriotism to the extent of being ready to spend freely for civic purposes, while they spent little on themselves as compared with the rich of a later period. so that, although the republics were from the first, in differing degrees, aristocratic rather than democratic--the _popolo_ being the body of upper-class and middle-class citizens with the franchise, not the mass of the population--and though the workers had later to struggle for their political privileges very much as did the plebs of ancient rome, the economic conditions were for a considerable period healthy enough. a rapid expansion of upper-class wealth seems to have begun in the thirteenth century, in connection, apparently, with the new usury[ ] and the new monopolist commerce connected with the crusades; and it is from this time that the economic conditions so markedly alter as to infect the political unity and independence of the republics without substituting any ideal of a wider union. much of the wealth of florence must in early republican times have been drawn from the agriculture of the surrounding plains, which had a large population. machiavelli (_istorie fiorentine_, . ii) states that when at the death of frederick ii the city reorganised its military, there were formed twenty companies in the town and sixty-six in the country. cp. hallam, _middle ages_, iii, . dante (_paradiso_, xv, - ) pictures the florentine upper class as living frugally in the reign of conrad iii (d. ). borghini and giovanni villani decide that the same standards still prevailed till the middle of the thirteenth century. (cited by villari, p. , and testa, pp. - : cp. riccobaldi of ferrara, there cited from muratori; pignotti, _hist. of tuscany_, eng. tr. iii, ; trollope, _history of florence_, i, ; and hallam, _middle ages_, th ed. iii, - .) if these testimonies can be in any degree trusted, the growth of wealth and luxury may be inferred to have taken place in part through the money-lending system developed by the florentines in the period of the later crusades, in part through the great commercial developments. the wool-trade, in which florentines soon surpassed pisa by reason of their skill in dyeing, was a basis for capitalistic commerce, inasmuch as the wool they dyed and manufactured was mostly foreign, the tuscan region being better suited for the growing of corn, wine, and olives than for pasture. already in the florentine wool trade had its consuls. (villari puts these much earlier. he traces them in , and thinks they were then long established. _two first centuries_, pp. , .) woollen-weaving was first noticeably improved by the lay order of the umiliati at milan about ; and this order was introduced about into florence, where it received special privileges. thenceforward the city became the great emporium for the finer cloths till the flemings and english learned to compete. (pignotti, _hist. of tuscany_, as cited, iii, - .) the silk manufacture, brought into sicily from the islands of the archipelago by roger ii in , and carried north from sicily in the reign of frederick iii, seems to have existed in florence at the beginning of the thirteenth century, but to have flourished at first on a larger scale at lucca, whence, on the sack of the town by uguccioni della faggiola in , most of the lucchese manufacturers fled to florence, taking their trade with them. (pignotti, iii, - ; villari, _two first centuries_, p. .) many had fled to venice from the power of castruccio castracani, five years earlier. (below, p. .) being much more profitable than any other, by reason of the high prices, it seems to have speedily ranked as more aristocratic than the wool trade; and when that declined, the silk trade restored florentine prosperity. (villari, as cited.) the business of banking, again, must have been much developed before the bardi and the peruzzi could lend , , florins to edward iii of england (g. villani, xi, ; xii, , ; gibbins, _history of commerce_, , pp. , ; hallam, _middle ages_, iii, . pignotti, iii, , eng. tr., estimates the sum lent as = £ , , of modern money). this function, in turn, arose on the basis of commerce, and the _cambisti_ are subjects of legal regulation in florence as early as . (pignotti, iii, .) on this line capitalism must have been developed greatly, till it became the preponderant power in the state. even as the kings and tyrants were enabled, by borrowing from the bankers, to wage wars which otherwise might have been impossible to them, the republican statesman who could command the moneyed interest was destined to supersede the merely military tyrant. in genoa the bankers coalesced in a corporation called the bank of st. george, which controlled politics, traded, and even made conquests, thus giving a historic lead to the bank of amsterdam. (cp. hallam, _middle ages_, iii, ; j.t. bent, _genoa_, , ch. ii.) summing up the industrial evolution, we note that about there were cloth factories in florence; and a century later , of which made silk and cloth-of-gold. at the latter period there were bankers or money-changers, apothecary shops, goldbeaters, and of goldsmiths, silversmiths, and jewellers. the artisan population was estimated at , ; and gold currency at two millions of florins (pignotti, iii, - ). concerning milan, it is recorded that in , a generation after it had lost its liberties, it had a population of , (certainly an exaggeration), , houses, notaries, physicians, schoolmasters, and copyists of mss. (hallam, _middle ages_, i, , citing galvaneus flamma; cp. ranke, _latin and teutonic nations_, eng. tr. p. .) § we can now generalise, then, the conditions of the rise of the arts and sciences in medieval italy. first we have seen commerce, handicraft, and architecture flourish in the new free cities, as they did at the same time in genoa, pisa, and venice. in the south, again, in the two sicilies, under the reign of frederick ii, prosperous industry and commerce, in contact and rivalry with those of the saracens, supplied a similar basis, though without yielding such remarkable fruits. there, however, on the stimulus of saracen literature, occur the decided beginnings of a new literature, in a speech at once vernacular and courtly, as being accepted by the emperor and the aristocracy. the same conditions, indeed, had existed before frederick, under the later norman kings; and it is in sicily about that we must date the oldest known verses in an italian dialect.[ ] some of them refer to saladin; and the connection between italian and arab literature goes deeper than that detail; for there is reason to suppose that in europe the very use of rhyme, arising as it thus did in the sphere of saracen culture-contact, derives from saracen models.[ ] in any case, the moorish poetry certainly influenced the beginnings of the italian and spanish. about the same time, however, there occurs the important literary influence of the troubadours, radiating from provence, where, again, the special source of fertilisation was the culture of the moors.[ ] the provençal speech, developed in a more stable life,[ ] took literary form before the italian, and yielded a literature which was the most effective stimulus to that of italy. and, broadly speaking, the troubadours stood socially for either the leisured upper class or a class which entertained and was supported by it. here, then, as regards imaginative and artistic literature, we find the beginnings made in the sphere of the beneficent prince or "tyrant." but, exactly as in greece, it is only in the struggling and stimulating life of the free cities that there arises, after the period of primary song, the great reflective literature, the great art: and, furthermore, the pursuit of letters at the courts of the princes is itself a result of outside stimulus. it needed the ferment of moorish culture--itself promoted by the special tolerance of the earlier ommiades towards jews and christians--to produce the literary stir in sicily and provence. again, while the provençal life, like the moorish, included a remarkable development of free thought, the first great propagation of quasi-rational heresy in the south occurring in provence, it was in the free italian cities, where also many _cathari_ and _paterini_ were found for burning, that there arose the more general development of intelligence. that is to say, the intellectual climate, the mental atmosphere, in which great literature grows, is here as elsewhere found to be supplied by the "free" state, in which men's wills and ideas clash and compromise.[ ] in turbulent florence of the thirteenth century was nourished the spirit of dante. and it is with art as with literature. modern painting begins in the thirteenth century in florence with cimabue, and at siena with duccio, who, trained like previous italian painters of other towns in the byzantine manner, transcended it and led the renaissance. the great step once taken, the new speech once broadly fixed, and the new art-ideal once adumbrated by masters, both literature and art could in differing sort flourish under the regimen of more or less propitious princes; but not so as to alter the truth just stated. what could best of all thrive was art. architecture, indeed, save for one or two great undertakings, can hardly be said to have ever outgone the achievement of the republican period; and painting was first broadly developed by public patronage; but it lay in the nature of the case that painting could find ample economic furtherance under the princes and under the church. for the rule of the princes was not, save in one or two places at a time, a tyranny of the kind that destroys all individuality; the invention of printing, and the general use of latin, now maintained a constant interaction of thought throughout all europe, checked only by the throttling hand of the church; and the arts of form and colour, once well grown, are those which least closely depend on, though they also thrive by, a free all-round intellectual life. the efficient cause of the great florescence of italian art from the thirteenth to the sixteenth century was economic--the unparalleled _demand_ for art on the part alike of the cities, the church, the princes, and the rich. from the tenth to the thirteenth century the outstanding economic phenomenon in italy is the growth of wealth by industry and commerce. in the same period, italian agriculture so flourished that by the fifteenth century italy would on this ground alone have ranked as the richest of european countries.[ ] from the thirteenth to the sixteenth century the outstanding economic fact is the addition to this still increasing wealth of the foreign revenues of the church.[ ] in the sixteenth century all three sources of wealth are almost simultaneously checked--that from agriculture through the miserable devastation wrought by the wars[ ] and by the spanish and papal rule; and then it is that the great art period begins to draw to its close. while the revenue of the church from the northern countries was sharply curtailed by the reformation, which in rapid succession affected germany, france, holland, switzerland, england, scotland, and the scandinavian states, the trade of italy began to be affected through the development of the new sea route round the cape of good hope by the portuguese; and though that gradual change need not have brought depression speedily, the misrule of leo x, raised to an unprecedented secular power, and the crowning blow of the spanish conquest, following upon the other and involving government by spanish methods, were the beginning of the end of italian greatness. prof. thorold rogers repeatedly generalises (_six centuries of work and wages_, p. ; _holland_, p. ; _economic interpretation of history_, p. ) that the turkish conquest of egypt ( ) blocked the only remaining road to the east known to the old world; and that thenceforth the trade of the rhine and danube was so impoverished as to ruin the german nobles, who speedily took to oppressing their tenants, and so brought about the peasants' war, while "the italian cities fell into rapid decay." whatever be the truth as to germany, the statement as to italy is very doubtful. the professor confessedly came to these conclusions from having observed a "sudden and enormous rise in the prices of all eastern products" at the close of the first quarter of the sixteenth century, not from having ascertained first the decay of the italian cities. now, h. scherer expressly notes (_allgemeine geschichte des welthandels_, , i, ), that selim i, after conquering egypt, made terms with his old enemies the venetians (who were then the main eastern traders in italy) and "bestowed on them all the privileges they had under the mamelukes." prof. rogers states that "the thriving manufactures of alexandria were at once destroyed." scherer states that selim freed from imposts all the indian wares brought into his states through alexandria, while he burdened heavily all that came by way of lisbon. heyd sums up (_histoire du commerce du levant_, éd. fran. , ii, ), that "under the new régime as under the old, egypt and syria remained open to the venetian merchants." it is hard to reconcile these data with the assertions of prof. rogers; and his statement as to prices is further indecisive because the portuguese trade by sea should have availed to counteract the effect of the closing of the egyptian route, if that _were_ closed. but the subject remains obscure: prof. gibbins (_history of commerce in europe_, , pp. , ) follows rogers without criticism. the difficulty is that, as scherer complains (i, ), we have very few records as to italian trade. "they have illustrated nearly everything, but least of all their commerce and their commercial politics." the lack of information scherer sets down to the internecine jealousy of the cities. but see the list of works of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries given by heyd, i, p. xvii _sq._, and his narrative, _passim_. so superficially has history been written that it is difficult to gather the effect thus far of the change in the channels of trade; but there seems to be no obscurity as to the effect of papal and spanish rule. what the arrest of trade began, and the rule of leo x promoted, the desperate wars of france and spain for the possession of italy completed, and the misgovernment of the spanish crown from onwards perpetuated. under sane rule peace might have brought recuperation; but spanish rule was ruin prolonged. destructive taxation, and still more destructive monopolies, paralysed commerce in the cities under spanish sway; while the executive was so weak for good that brigandage abounded in the interior, and the coasts were raided periodically by the fleets of the turks or the algerine pirates. the decline of the art of painting in italy (apart from venice and rome) being broadly coincident with this collapse, the induction is pretty clear that the economic demand had been the fundamental force in the artistic development. the church and the despot remained, but the artistic growth ceased. always in need of money for his vast outlays, leo administered his secular power solely with a view to his own immediate revenue, and set up trade monopolies in florence and the papal estates wherever he could. as to the usual effects of the papal power on commerce, see napier, _florentine history_, , ii, . "the court of rome, since it had ceased to respect the ancient municipal liberties, never extended its authority over a new province without ruining its population and resources" (sismondi, _short history_, p. ). roscoe (_life of leo x_, ed. , ii, ) speaks of a revival of florentine commerce under leo's kinsman, the cardinal, about ; but this is almost the only glance at the subject of trade and administration in roscoe's work. under pope gregory xiii ( - ) there was for a time fair prosperity in states that had formerly suffered from more precarious tyrannies; but ere long "the taxes laid upon persons, property, and commerce, to replace the lost revenues of christendom, dried up these resources"; and many cities fell into poverty. ancona in particular was so crushed by a tax on imports that her mediterranean trade was lost once for all. (zeller, _histoire d'italie_, , p. .) sismondi's charge is substantially borne out also by ranke's account (_history of the popes_, eng. trans. -vol. ed. , pp. - ) of the ruinous impositions of pope sixtus v ( - ), who taxed the poorest trades and the necessaries of life, besides debasing the coinage and raising further revenue from the sale of places at exorbitant prices, leaving the holders to recoup themselves by extortion and corruption. cp., however, zeller, pp. - , as to his municipal improvements. as to spanish misrule, see cantù, _storia degli italiani_, cap. , ed. pop. ix, ; sismondi, _républiques_, xvi, - , - , , ; symonds, _renaissance_, vol. vi, pt. i (catholic reaction), pp. , ; procter, _history of italy_, , pp. , , following muratori and giannone; spalding, _italy_, ii, - , citing many other sources. "the spaniards, as a milanese writer indignantly remarks, possessed central lombardy for years. they found in its chief city , souls; they left in it scarcely a third of that number. they found in it seventy-five woollen manufactories; they left in it no more than five" (spalding, ii, ). agriculture suffered equally. the decay of manufactures might be set down to outside causes, not so the rise in taxation. yet the decadence does not seem to have been universal, or at least was not continuous. in sicily, it is alleged, though the statement is hardly credible, the revenue, which in was , , ducats, was in , , (leo, _geschichte von italien_, v, , ); and at the latter date, according to howell, naples abounded "in rich staple commodities, as silks, cottons, and wines," from which there accrued to the king of spain "a mighty revenue," which, however, was mostly spent in the province, being "eaten up 'twixt governors, garrisons, and officers" (letter of october, , in _epistolæ ho-elianæ_, bennett's ed. , i, ). thus there would seem to have been marked fluctuations, for in the time of pope gregory naples is described as sinking under oppression and milan as prosperous (zeller, p. ). the inference seems to be that some governors learned from the failures of their predecessors to handle trade aright. the case of florence after , finally, shows how a wise ruler could so profit by experience as to restore prosperity where misrule had driven it out. duke ferdinand ( - ) was technically as much a "tyrant" as his brother and predecessor francis, but by wise public works he restored prosperity to leghorn and to pisa, whose population had latterly fallen from , to , (zeller, pp. , ), and so increased both population and revenue that he even set up a considerable naval power. the net result was that at , even under less sagacious successors, florence "marvellously flourished with buildings, with wealth, and with artisans"; and the people of all degrees were declared to live "not only well but splendidly well, notwithstanding the manifold exactions of the duke upon all things" (howell's letter of november, , ed. cited, i, ). we are in sight, then, of the solution of the dispute as to whether it was the republics or the "tyrants" that evoked the arts and literature in medieval and renaissance italy. the true generalisation embraces both sides. it may be well, however, to meet in full the "protectionist" or "monarchist" view, as it has been very judiciously put by an accomplished specialist in italian culture history, in criticism of the other theory:-- "the obliteration of the parties beneath despotism was needed, under actual conditions, for that development of arts and industry which raised italy to a first place among civilised nations. we are not justified by the facts in assuming that, had the free burghs continued independent, arts and literature would have risen to a greater height. venice, in spite of an uninterrupted republican career, produced no commanding men of letters, and owed much of her splendour in the art of painting to aliens from cadore, castle-franco, and verona. genoa remained silent and irresponsive to the artistic movement of italy to the last days of the republic, when her independence was but a shadow. pisa, though a burgh of tuscany, displayed no literary talent, while her architecture dates from the first period of the commune. siena, whose republican existence lasted longer even than that of florence, contributed nothing of importance to italian literature. the art of perugia was developed during the ascendency of despotic families. the painting of the milanese school owes its origin to lodovico sforza, and survived the tragic catastrophes of his capital, which suffered more than any other from the brutalities of spaniards and frenchmen. next to florence, the most brilliant centres of literary activity during the bright days of the renaissance were princely ferrara and royal naples. lastly, we might insist upon the fact that the italian language took its first flight in the court of imperial palermo, while republican rome remained dumb throughout the earlier stage of italian literary evolution. thus the facts of the case seem to show that culture and republican independence were not so closely united in italy as some historians would seek to make us believe. "on the other hand, it is impossible to prove that the despotisms of the fifteenth century were necessary to the perfecting of art and literature. all that can be safely advanced upon this subject is that the pacification of italy was demanded as a preliminary condition, and that this pacification came to pass through the action of the princes, checked and equilibrated by the oligarchies of venice and florence. it might further be urged that the despots were in close sympathy with the masses of the people, shared their enthusiasms, and promoted their industry.... to be a prince and not to be the patron of scholarship, the pupil of the humanists, and the founder of libraries, was an impossibility. in like manner they employed their wealth upon the development of arts and industries. the great age of florentine painting is indissolubly connected with the memories of casa medici. rome owes her magnificence to the despotic popes. even the pottery of gubbio was the creation of the ducal house of urbino."[ ] the criticism of this well-marshalled passage may best be put in a summary form, as thus:-- i. (_a_) the despot promoter of arts and letters is here admittedly the pupil and product of a previous culture. that being so, he could avail for fresh culture in so far as he gave it economic furtherance. he might even give such furtherance on some sides in a fuller degree than ever did the republics. but he could _not_ give (though after the invention of printing he could not wholly destroy) the mental atmosphere needed to produce great literature. none of the above-cited illustrations goes any way to prove that he could; and it is easy to show that his influence was commonly belittling to those who depended on him. (_b_) the point as to pacification is unduly pressed, or is perhaps accidentally misstated. it is not to be denied that the despot in the italian cities, as in old greece and rome, did in a measure earn popular support by giving the common people relief from the strifes of guelphs and ghibellines. but the despots did not pacify italy, though they to some extent set up local stability by checking faction feuds. (_c_) the popes were in the earlier middle ages a main cause of the ill-development of rome. their splendid works were much later than many of those of the republics. st. mark's at venice, a result of byzantine contact, was built in the eleventh century, as was the duomo of pisa, whose baptistery and tower belong to the twelfth. the campo santa of pisa, again, belongs to the thirteenth and fourteenth, and the palazzo vecchio of florence to the end of the thirteenth. and the great architects and sculptors of the thirteenth century were mostly pisans.[ ] ii. the point as to the lack of the right intellectual atmosphere under the princes can be proved by a comparison of products. the literature that is intellectually great, in the days before printing equalised and distributed cultures, belongs from first to last to florence. dante and machiavelli are its terms; both standing for the experience of affairs in a disturbed but self-governing community; and it was in florence that boccaccio formed his powers. "florentine art and letters, constituting the most fertile seeds of art and letters in italy, were essentially republican; many writers, and most of the artists, of florence were the offspring of traders or labouring men."[ ] what the popes and the princes protected and developed was the literature of scholarship, their donations constituting an endowment of research. if the revival of classic learning and the rapid growth of art after the middle of the fifteenth century be held, as by some historians, to be the essence of the renaissance,[ ] then the renaissance is largely the work of the despots. but even the artists and scholars patronised by cosimo de' medici were formed before his time,[ ] and there is no proportional increase in number or achievement afterwards. on the other hand, it was _mere_ scholarship that the potentates fostered: lorenzo valla, welcomed for his _elegantiae latinae linguae_, had barely escaped exile for his _de falsa donatione constantini magni_;[ ] and it is impossible to show that they promoted thought save in such a case as the encouragement of the platonic philosophy by cosimo and lorenzo. for the rest, the character of the humanists whom the potentates fostered is admittedly illaudable in nearly every case. pomponius lætus, who almost alone of his class bears scrutiny as a personality, expressly set his face against patronage, and sought to live as a free professor in the university of rome.[ ] and it is open to argument, finally, whether the princely patronage of the merely retrospective humanists did not check vital culture in italy.[ ] it is true that when "despotism" has been so long acquiesced in as to mean a stable social state, there may take place under it new forms of intellectual life. the later cases of galileo and vico would suffice to prove as much. but it will hardly be suggested that monarchic rule _evoked_ such forms of genius, any more than that the papacy was propitious to galileo. in both cases the effective stimulant was foreign thought. iii. (_a_) the case of venice has to be explained in respect of its special conditions. venice was from the first partly aloof from ordinary italian life by reason of its situation and its long byzantine connections. it was further an aristocratic republic of the old roman type, its patrician class developing as a caste of commanders and administrators; and its foreign possessions, added to in every century, reinforced this tendency.[ ] the early usage of civic trading, carried on by means of fleets owned by the state, was habitually turned to the gain of the ruling minority. the use of the fleets was generally granted to monopoly companies, who paid no duties, while private persons did; the middle classes in general being allowed to trade only under burdensome restrictions.[ ] here were conditions contrary in effect to those of the progressive days of greece. contrasted with florence, the italian athens, venice has even been likened to sparta by a modern italian.[ ] it has been more justly compared, however,[ ] with rhodes, which, unlike sparta, was primarily a commercial and a maritime power; and where, as in venice, the rich merchants patronised the arts rather than letters. from the first venice achieved its wealth by an energetically prosecuted trade, with no basis of landed property to set up a leisured class. in such a city the necessarily high standards of living,[ ] as well as the prevailing habit and tradition, would keep men of the middle class away from literature;[ ] and only men of the middle class like dante, or leisured officials like poggio and boccaccio and machiavelli, are found to do important literary work even in florence. hence the small share of venice in the structure of italian literature. the same explanation partly holds good of art. venice, however, at length gave the needed economic furtherance; and men of other communities could there find a market, as did greek sculptors in imperial rome. obviously a despot could not have evoked artists of venetian birth any more than did the republic, save by driving men out of commerce. but it is in venice, where wealth and the republican form lasted longest, that we find almost the last of the great artists--titian, tintoretto, veronese. after these the caracci, guido, and many others gravitate to rome, where the reorganised church regains some riches with power. we are to remember, too, that the aristocratic rulers saw to the food supply of the whole republic by a special promotion of agriculture in its possessions, particularly in candia; besides carefully making treaties which secured its access to the grain markets of sicily, egypt, and north africa.[ ] here again we have to recognise a form of civic self-preserving resource special in origin to republics, though afterwards exploited by autocracies, as earlier in the case of imperial rome. the fact that venice _did_ maintain great artists after the artistic arrest of tuscany and lombardy, is part of the proof that, as above contended (p. ), it was papal and spanish misrule rather than the change in the channels of trade that impoverished italy in the sixteenth century. venice could still prosper by her manufactures when her commerce was partly checked, because the volume of european trade went on increasing. as hallam notes: "we are apt to fall into a vulgar error in supposing that venice was crushed, or even materially affected [phrase slightly modified in footnote], as a commercial city, by the discoveries of the portuguese. she was in fact _more opulent_, as her buildings themselves may prove, in the sixteenth century than in any preceding age. the french trade from marseilles to the levant, which began later to flourish, was what impoverished venice rather than that of portugal with the east indies." as the treatise of antonio serra shows ( ), venice was rich when spanish naples was poor (_introduction to the literature of europe_, ed. , iii, , ). (_b_) as regards genoa, the explanation is similar. that republic resembled venice in that it was from the beginning a city apart from the rest of italy, devoted to foreign commerce, and absorbed in the management of distant possessions or trade colonies. when we compare the intellectual history of two such states with that of florence, which was not less but more republican in its government, it becomes clear that it was not republicanism that limited culture in the maritime cities. rather we must recognise that their development is analogous with that of england in the eighteenth century, when the growth of commerce, of foreign possessions, and of naval power seems to have turned the general energies, hitherto in large proportion intellectually employed, predominantly towards practical and administrative employment.[ ] the case of florence is the test for the whole problem. its pre-eminence in art and letters alike is to be explained through ( ) its being in constant touch with all the elements of italian and other european culture; and ( ) its having no direct maritime interests and no foreign possessions.[ ] iv. with the patronage of the princes of ferrara, history associates the poetry of ariosto and tasso, though as a matter of fact the _orlando furioso_ seems to have been written before ariosto entered the ducal service. but even if that and the _gerusalemme_ be wholly credited to the principle of monarchism, it only needs to weigh the two works against those which were brought forth in the atmosphere of the free cities in order to see how little mere princely pay can avail for power and originality in literature where the princely rule thwarts the great instincts of personality. ariosto and tasso are charming melodists; and as such they have had an influence on european literature; but they have waned in distinction age by age, while earlier and later names have waxed. and all the while, what is delightful in them is clearly enough the outcome of the still manifold italian culture in which they grew, though it may be that the influence of a court would do more to foster sheer melody than would the storm and stress of the life of a republic. sismondi (_républiques italiennes_, iv, - ), admits the encouragement given to men of letters by despots like can' grande, and the frequent presence of poets at the courts. but he rightly insists that the faculty of imagination itself visibly dwindled when intellectual freedom was gone. it is interesting to note how montaigne, writing within a century of the production of the _orlando furioso_, is struck by its want of sustained imaginative flight in comparison with virgil (_essais_, b. ii, ; éd. firmin-didot, vol. i, p. ). compare the estimate of cantù, _storia degli italiani_, cap. , ed. pop. x, - . in fine, we can rightly say with mr. symonds himself that the history of the renaissance is not the history of arts, or of sciences, or even of nations. it is the history of the attainment of self-conscious freedom by the human spirit manifested in the european races.[ ] and _this_ process, surely, was not accomplished at the courts of the despots. nor can it well be disputed, finally, that the spanish domination was the visible and final check to intellectual progress on the side of imaginative literature, at a time when there was every prospect of a great development of italian drama. "it was the inquisitors and spaniards who cowed the italian spirit."[ ] equally clear is it that the republican life evolved an amount of expansive commercial energy which at that period could not possibly have taken place under a tyrant. the efforts by which florence developed her trade and power--efforts made possible by the mere union of self-interest among the commercial class--will compare with any process of monarchic imperialism in respect of mere persistency and success. faced by the jealous enmity of pisa, their natural port, and suffering from the trade burdens laid on them by the maritime states while they lacked a marine, the florentines actually opened up trade communication with china when shut out from egypt by the venetians; traded through the port of talamone when the pisans barred their traffic; took provençal and neapolitan galleys in their pay when the pisans and genoese tried to close talamone; and, after becoming masters of pisa in , not only established a well-ordered marine, but induced genoa to sell to them the port of leghorn. they could not, indeed, successfully compete with the genoese and venetians till the fall of the greek empire; but thereafter they contrived to obtain abundant concessions from the turks, while the genoese were driven out of the levant. commercial egoism, in fact, enabled them to tread the path of "empire" even as emperors had done long before them; and they hastened to the stage of political collapse on the old military road, spending on one war of two years, against visconti, a sum equal to £ , , at the present time; and in the twenty-nine years of struggle against pisa ( - ) a sum equal to £ , , .[ ] thus they developed a capitalistic class, undermined in the old way the spirit of equity which is the cement of societies, and prepared their own subjection to a capitalist over-lord. but that is only another way of saying that the period of expansive energy preceded the age of the tyrant, wise or unwise. when all is said, however, there can be no gainsaying of the judgment that the strifes of the republics were the frustration of their culture; and it matters little whether or not we set down the inveteracy of the strifes to the final scantiness and ill-distribution of the culture. neither republics nor princes seem ever to have aimed at its diffusion. the latter, in common with the richer ecclesiastics, did undoubtedly promote the recovery of the literature of antiquity; but where the republics had failed to see any need for systematic popular tuition[ ] the princes naturally did not dream of it. it would be a fallacy, however, to suppose that, given the then state of knowledge and of political forces, any system of public schooling could have saved italian liberty. no class had the science that could solve the problem which pressed on all. the increase and culmination of social and political evil in renaissance italy was an outcome of more forces than could be checked by any expedient known to the thought of the time. it must never be forgotten that the very dividedness of the cities, by maximising energy, had been visibly a cause of their growth in riches;[ ] and that, though peace could have fostered that when once it had been attained, anything like a federation which should secure to the satisfaction of each their conflicting commercial interests was an enormously difficult conception. it would be a bad fallacy, again, to suppose that there was lacking to the italians of the renaissance a kind of insight or judgment found in other peoples of the same period. there is no trace of any such estimate in that age; and we who look back upon it are rather set marvelling at the intense and luminous play of italian intelligence, keen as that of redskins on the trail, so far as the realisation of the self-expressive and self-assertive appetites could go. the tragedy of the decadence, here as in the case of rome, is measured by the play of power from which men and states fall away; for the forces which next came to the top stand for no mental superiority. the problem, in fact, was definitely beyond the grasp of the age. it remains to realise this by a survey of the process of decline from self-government to despotism. footnotes: [footnote : leo estimates that as early as the reign of louis the pious the church owned about one-third of the land of italy. cp. b. iii, cc. , , as to the process.] [footnote : names derived from the german welf (or wölf) and waiblingen; italianised as guelfo and ghibellino. waiblingen was the name of a castle in the diocese of augsburg belonging to the salian or franconian emperors, the descendants of conrad the salic, welf was a family name of the dukes of bavaria and saxony, who constantly resisted the predominance of the emperors, both of the franconian and the hohenstaufen lines. the names seem to have become war-cries in italy about the end of the twelfth century. in florence they appear first in . villari, _two first centuries_, p. , _note_.] [footnote : sismondi, _short history_, p. .] [footnote : as to the relations of successive popes in the dark ages--each cancelling the acts of his predecessor--see sismondi, _républiques_, i, ; gregorovius, as last cited, and _passim_.] [footnote : prof. butler (_communes of lombardy_, p. ), credits the italians with having acquired, as a result of the perpetual wars of the cities, "a breadth of view and a vigour of mind unknown among the urban populations of other lands." how can "breadth of view" in politics be ascribed to communities whose unending strifes finally brought them all under despotism?] [footnote : machiavelli, _istorie fiorentine_, l. ii. the seven major _arti_ were ( ) the judges and notaries; ( ) the dealers in french cloths; ( ) the money-changers; ( ) the wool traders; ( ) the physicians and apothecaries; ( ) the silk dealers and mercers; and ( ) the furriers.] [footnote : pignotti, _hist. of tuscany_, eng. trans. iii, .] [footnote : h. scherer, _allgemeine geschichte des welthandels_, , i, , .] [footnote : cp. symonds, _age of the despots_, ed. , pp. - .] [footnote : villari, _two first centuries_, p. ; hallam, _introd. to literature of europe_, ed. , i, , , , , , . but see p. as to the stimulus from italy in the eleventh century. cp. gregorovius, _geschichte der stadt rom_, b. viii, kap. vii, § i (bd. iv, - ), as to the primitive state of mental life in rome in the twelfth century, and the resort of young nobles to paris for education.] [footnote : in the previous edition i accepted the still current statement that salerno drew its first medical lore from the saracens. but dr. rashdall has, i think, sufficiently shown that there is no basis for the theory (_the universities in the middle ages_, , i, - ). salerno seems rather to have preserved some of the classic lore on which the saracens also founded. arabic influence in the italian schools began in the twelfth century, and was in full force early in the fourteenth, when salerno was in complete decline (_id_. p. ).] [footnote : as to the attitude and influence of gregory the great see hallam, _literature of europe_, as cited, i, , , ; and gregorovius, b. iii, cap. iii, § (ii, ). as to the reforms of gregory vii in the tenth century, see also gregorovius, b. vii, cap. vii, § (iv, ). see the latter writer again, b. vii, cap. vi (iv, - ), and guizot, _civilisation en europe_, leçon vi, ed. , pp. - , as to the effect of hildebrandt's policy in dividing the church.] [footnote : cp. boulting-sismondi, p. ; muratori, _dissert._ xv, cited by lecky, _hist. of european morals_, ii, ; milman, as last cited, ii, .] [footnote : we know further from salvian, as noted above, p. , that the christians of gaul treated their slaves as badly as the pagans had ever done (_de gubernatione dei_, l. iv). as to the whole subject, see the valuable researches of larroque, _de l'esclavage chez les nations chrétiennes_, e éd. , and biot, _de l'abolition de l'esclavage ancien en occident_, .] [footnote : lea, _hist. sketch of sacerdotal celibacy_, nd ed. pp. - .] [footnote : cp. sismondi, as before cited, and testa, as cited, p. . testa's book, like so many other modern italian treatises, is written with the garrulity of the middle ages, but embodies a good deal of research. the pietistic passage on p. is contradicted by that on p. .] [footnote : hardwick, _church history: middle age_, , p. and refs. manumission was the legal preliminary to ordination; but it was often set aside, with the object of having the serf-priest more subject to discipline. cp. tytler, _hist. of scotland_, ed. , ii, , as to bondmen-clerks in scotland in the thirteenth century.] [footnote : as in the war of cities against nobles under conrad the salic. see above, p. .] [footnote : _wealth of nations_, bk. iii, ch. .] [footnote : cp. butler, pp. , .] [footnote : as to these see testa, p. . compare the accounts of the later bloodless battles of the _condottieri_, which were thus not without italian precedent. between and pavia and milan had six wars. butler, _the communes of lombardy_, p. .] [footnote : cp. heeren, _essai sur l'influence des croisades_, villers' tr. , p. ; bryce, _holy roman empire_, th ed. pp. , , , ; stubbs, _germany in the middle ages_, , pp. , .] [footnote : _memoirs of fra salimbene_, tr. by t.k. l. oliphant, in same vol. with _the duke and the scholar_, , p. .] [footnote : butler, p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : wealth-accumulation first took the form of land-owning. at the beginning of the twelfth century the florentine territory was merely civic; at the end it was about forty miles in diameter. (trollope, _history of the commonwealth of florence_, , i, .) the figure given for the beginning, six miles, is legendary and incredible. see villari, _two first centuries_, pp. - .] [footnote : as everywhere else in the middle ages, interest at florence was high, varying from ten to thirty per cent. pignotti, _hist. of tuscany_, eng. tr. , iii, . cp. hallam, _middle ages_, th ed. iii, .] [footnote : bartoli, _storia della letteratura italiana_, , tom. ii, cap. vii.] [footnote : sismondi, _literature of the south of europe_, eng. tr. i, , , , , ; bouterwek, _history of spanish and portuguese literature_, eng. tr. , i, , ; bartoli, i, .] [footnote : sismondi, as last cited, i, , , , ; bartoli, tom. ii, cap. i, and p. .] [footnote : "the union of provence, during two hundred and thirteen years, under a line of princes who ... never experienced any foreign invasion, but, by a fraternal government, augmented the population and riches of the state, and favoured commercial pursuits ... consolidated the laws, the language, and the manners of provence" (sismondi, as last cited, i, ).] [footnote : see above, p. _sq._, as to the theory of the culture-value of the despot.] [footnote : sismondi, _républiques_, xii, - . the land was already cultivated on the _métayer_ system, half the crop going to the tenant--a state of things advantageous all round. villari (_two first centuries_, p. ) pronounces that the florentines looked sagaciously to trade, but harassed agriculture. this does not seem to be true of italian polity in general.] [footnote : as to these, consult m'crie, _history of the reformation in italy_, ed. , pp. - .] [footnote : see sismondi, _républiques_, xii, , as to the utter ruin of the pisan territory by florence.] [footnote : j.a. symonds, _the age of the despots_, ed. , pp. - .] [footnote : sismondi, _républiques italiennes_, iv, - .] [footnote : villari, _two first centuries_, p. . so perrens: "its glory belonged to the democratic period" (_histoire de florence_, eng. trans. of vol. vii, p. ).] [footnote : cp. zeller, _histoire d'italie_, , p. .] [footnote : roscoe (_life of leo x_, ii, ) attributes to the rivalry of leonardo and michel angelo at florence (in , while the medici were in exile, and the city was self-governed) the kindling of the art life of the greatest period. and see perrens (_histoire de florence_, eng. trans. of vol. cited, p. , also as cited below, p. ) on the decay of architecture and the check to art through the policy of lorenzo. "art under the grandfather," he declares (p. ), "_completed_ a remarkable evolution which has no equivalent under the grandson." previously (p. ) he had noted that "many works of which the fifteenth century gets the glory because it finished them, were ordered and begun amid the confusion and terrible agitation of the demagogy." as to cosimo's expenditure on building see p. , and on letters p. .] [footnote : zeller, p. . the _de falsa donatione_ was certainly an abusive document. see hallam, _literature of europe_, pt. i, ch. iii, sect. i, par. , _note_.] [footnote : burckhardt, as cited, p. . another estimable type was fra urbano. see roscoe, leo x, i, , . on the character of poliziano see perrens, trans. cited, p. .] [footnote : cp. burckhardt, pp. , , ; zeller, p. ; and von reumont, _lorenzo de' medici_, eng. trans. ii, . lorenzo expressly cut down the scope and the resources of the florentine _studio_ for selfish personal reasons. perrens, trans. cited, pp. - . it was bernardo nerli, not lorenzo, who bore the cost of printing homer. _id._ p. .] [footnote : see the estimate of venetian ideals in burckhardt, _civilisation of the renaissance in italy_, pt. i, ch. vii.] [footnote : nys, _researches in the history of economics_, , pp. - ; frignet, _histoire de l'association commerciale_, , p. .] [footnote : prof. giacomo gay, _dei carattere degli italiani nel medio evo e nell' età moderna_, asti, , p. .] [footnote : by prof. mahaffy, _greek life and thought_, p. .] [footnote : compare these as described by ranke (_latin and teutonic nations_, eng. tr. p. ) with those of old athens.] [footnote : burckhardt (eng. tr. ed. , pp. , ) gives some illustrative details. see also h. brown in _cambridge modern history_, , i, . but cp. geiger, _renaissance und humanismus in italien und deutschland_, berlin, , pp. - , as to the _per contra_.] [footnote : nys, _researches in the history of economics_, , pp. - , and ref.] [footnote : cp. _the dynamics of religion_, by "m.w. wiseman" (j.m. r.), , pp. , , .] [footnote : "non partecipavi firenze nelle faccende d'europa così largamente, come venezia e genova, sì per essere continuamente straziata dalle fazioni e sì per non avere dominio di mare. dal che nasceva, che niun cittadino potesse sorgere in lei di nome e di appichi esterni tanto possente che potesse stabilirvi da per se o la libertà o la tyrannide" (c. botta, _storia d' italia_, , i, ). but genoa also had countless strifes of faction, so that the vera causa of the greater inner development of florence must be held to be her lack of external dominion and occupation.] [footnote : vol. cited, p. . cp. burckhardt, _civilisation of the renaissance in italy_, pt. iv, ch. iv, p. . both writers adopt the language of michelet.] [footnote : burckhardt, p. . the counter-reformation, of course, must always be taken into account in estimates of the latter period of italian history. the regeneration of the papacy after the reformation is to be credited jointly to spain and the reformation itself.] [footnote : pignotti, _hist. of tuscany_, eng. tr. iii, - .] [footnote : study suffered in florence particularly from the faction troubles. the _studio_ or college, founded in , was closed between and ; reopened then, shut in , again opened in , and so on. cp. napier, _florentine history_, , iv, ; perrens, _histoire de florence_, eng. tr. of vol. vii, pp. - ; and von reumont, _lorenzo de' medici_, eng. tr. i, - .] [footnote : mr. symonds notes (_age of the despots_, p. ) how guicciardini argued this (_op. ined._ i, ), as against machiavelli's lament over the lack of italian unity.] chapter iii the political collapse § given the monarchic and feudal environment, the chronic strife within and between the italian cities can be seen to be sufficient in time to undo them;[ ] and some wonder naturally arises at their failure to frame some system of federal government that should restrain their feuds. it was their supreme necessity; but though the idea was now and then broached,[ ] there is no sign that the average man ever came nearer planning for it than did the ghibelline dante, with his simple theory that cæsar should ride the horse,[ ] or than did the clear brain of machiavelli, with its longing for a native ruler[ ] like cesare borgia, capable of beating down the rival princes and the adventurers, and of holding his own against the papacy. one of the statesmen who harboured the ideal was rienzi; but he never wrought for its realisation, and his devotion to the papacy as well as to the headship of rome would have made it miscarry had he set it on foot.[ ] the failure of cesare borgia, who of all italians of his day came nearest to combining the needed faculties for italian unification, is the proof of the practical impossibility of that solution. but a federation of states, it has been reasoned, was relatively feasible; why then was it never attempted? as usual, the question has been answered in the simple verbalist way, by the decision that the italians did not strike out a political philosophy or science because they were not that way given. they lacked the "faculty" for whatever they did not happen to do; whereas the ancient greeks, on the contrary, did theorise because that faculty was theirs, though they had not the faculty to work out the theories. _e.g._ the reasoning of so intelligent a thinker as heeren: "among those countries in which [political speculation] might have been expected to give the earliest sign of life, italy was undoubtedly the first: all the ordinary causes appear to have united here; a number of small states arose near each other; republican constitutions were established; political parties were everywhere at work and at variance; and with all this, the arts and sciences were in the full splendour of their revival. the appearance of italy in the fifteenth century recalls most fully the picture of ancient greece. and yet in italy, political theories were as few as in greece they had been many!--a result both unexpected and difficult to explain. still, however, i think that this phenomenon may be in great part accounted for, if we remember that there _never was_ a philosophical system of character or influence which prospered _under the sky of italy_. no nation of civilised europe has given birth to so few theories as the italian: none has had less genius for such pursuits. the history of the roman philosophy, a mere echo of the grecian, proves this of its earlier ages, nor was it otherwise in its later." (essay "on the rise and progress of political theories," in _historical treatises_, eng. tr. , p. .) to say nothing of the looseness of the generalisation, which ignores alike thomas aquinas and vico, leonardo and galileo, machiavelli and giordano bruno, it may suffice to note once more that on this principle the germans must be pronounced to have been devoid of theoretical faculty before leibnitz. on that view it does not become any more intelligible how "they" acquired it. seeking a less vacuous species of explanation, we are soon led to recognise ( ) that the case of medieval italy was to the extent of at least two factors more complicated than that of ancient greece; and that these factors alone might suffice to explain their non-production of a "theory" which should avail for the need; ( ) that the theories of the greeks did not avail to solve their problem; and ( ) that the italians all the while had really two theories too many. at the very emergence of their republics they were already possessed or wrought upon by the embodied theories of the empire and the papacy, two elements never represented in the greek problem, where empire was an alien and barbarian thing suddenly entering into the affairs of civilised hellas, and where there was nothing in the nature of the papacy. these two forces in italian life were all along represented by specific theories; and their clash was a large part of the trouble. their pressure set up a chronic clash of parties; and the theorist of to-day may be challenged to frame a theory which could have worked well for italy otherwise than by setting those forces aside--a thing quite impossible in the middle ages. if mere system-making on either side could have availed, thomas aquinas might have rendered the service.[ ] the economic and political destiny of the church may be said to have been determined in the eleventh century, when, after a desperate struggle, begun by pope hildebrandt, celibacy was forced on the secular clergy. the real motive to this policy was of course not ascetic but economic, the object being to prevent at once the appropriation of church property by married priests for family purposes, and the creation of hereditary titles to church benefices. an evolution of that kind had actually begun; and there can be no question that had it not been checked it would have been fatal to the papacy. naturally the married clergy on their part resisted to the uttermost. only the desperate policy of hildebrandt, withdrawing popular obedience and ecclesiastical protection from those who would not give up their wives, broke down the resistance; and even thereafter urban ii, as we saw, had to resort to the odious measure of making priests' wives slaves.[ ] from that period we may date the creation of the church as a unitary political power. sacerdotal celibacy took many generations to establish; but when once the point was carried it involved a force of incorporation which only the strongest political forces--as at the reformation--could outdo, and which since the reformation has kept the church intact. it is true that the monk arnold of brescia, burned alive by the papacy in , fought a long battle ( - ) against the papal power, creating an immense ferment in lombardy, and rousing a strong anti-papal movement in rome itself (sismondi, _républiques italiennes_, i, chs. , ; gibbon, ch. ); and that, as noted by m'crie (_reformation in italy_, p. ), "the supremacy claimed by the bishops of rome was resisted in italy after it had been submitted to by the most remote churches of the west"; but once papalised, italy necessarily remained so in her own pecuniary interest. cp. rogers, _economic interpretation of history_, p. . arnold's movement led even to a revolution in rome; but after he had ruled there for ten years, overbearing two successive popes, one of greater energy, adrian iv, excommunicated the city, so expelling arnold. adrian then, making a bargain with the emperor frederick barbarossa at his coronation, got the republican leader in his power; and the movement ended with arnold's life. the papacy was now an irremovable element of division in italy; and disunion was thenceforth the lot of the land. if we seek to localise the disease, however, we find that no one factor is specially responsible. the alien emperor, coming in from outside, and setting city against city, pavia against milan, and nobles against burghers, is clearly a force of strife. again, whereas the cities might on the whole have combined successfully against the emperor, to the point of abolishing his rule, the papacy, calling him in to suit its own purposes, and calling in yet other aliens at a pinch, is still more a force of discord. at times the emperors, in the worst days of roman corruption, had to choose among the competitors nominated to the papacy by the intrigues of courtesans and nobles and the venal votes of the people, thus identifying the man they chose with their cause. hildebrandt, again, after securing that the popes should be elected by the cardinals, became the fiercest of autocrats. by his strife with henry iv he set up civil war through all italy and germany; and when in his despair he called in the normans against rome, they sold most of the people into slavery.[ ] later, in the minority of frederick ii, innocent iii so strengthened the church that it was able by sheer slaughter to crush for a generation all provençal heresy, and was able to prevail against frederick in its long struggle with him; in so doing, however, deepening to the uttermost the passion of faction in all the cities, and so preparing the worst and bloodiest wars of the future. yet, on the other hand, if we make abstraction of pope and emperor, and consider only the nobles and the citizens, it is clear that they had among them the seeds of strife immeasurable. the nobles were by training and habit centres of violence.[ ] their mutual feuds, always tending to involve the citizens, were a perpetual peril to order; and their disregard of law kept them as ready to make war on citizens or cities as on each other. again and again they were violently expelled from every lombard city, on the score of their gross and perpetual disorders; but they being the chief experts in military matters, they were always welcomed back again, because the burghers had need of them as leaders in the feuds of city with city, and of guelphs with ghibellines. so that yet again, if we put the nobles out of sight, the spirit of strife as between city and city was sufficient, as in ancient greece, to make them all the prey of any invader with a free hand. they could not master the science of their problem, could not rise above the plane of primary tribal or local passion and jealousy; though within each city were faction hatreds as bitter as those between the cities as wholes. already in the twelfth century we find milan destroying lodi and unwalling como. later, in the thirteenth century, genoa ruins the naval power of pisa,[ ] then under the tyranny of ugolino, in a war of commercial hatred, such as pisa had before waged with amalfi and with lucca; in the fourteenth, genoa and venice again and again fight till both are exhausted, and genoa accepts a lord to aid her in the struggle, pisa doing likewise, and so recovering strength on land;[ ] in the fifteenth and sixteenth, florence spares no cost or effort to keep pisa in subjection. this fatal policy, in turn, was the result of the frequent attempts of the pisans to destroy florentine trade by closing their port to it.[ ] all along, inter-civic hates are in full flow through all the wars of guelphs and ghibellines; and the menace of neither french nor spanish tyranny can finally unify the mutually repellent communities. we may, indeed, make out a special case against the papacy, to the effect that, but for that, italian intelligence would have had a freer life; and that even if italy, like spain and france and england, underwent despotism in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, her intellectual activity would have sufficed to work her recovery at least as rapidly as the process took place elsewhere. it has been argued[ ] that the liberating force elsewhere in the sixteenth century was the reformation--a theory which leaves us asking what originated the reformation in its turn. taking that to be the spirit of (_a_) inchoate free thought, of developing reason, or (_b_) of economic revolt against the fiscal exactions of an alien power, or both, we are entitled to say broadly that the crushing of such revolt in italy, as in provence and in spain, clearly came of the special development of the papal power thus near its centre--the explanation of "national character" being as nugatory in this as in any other sociological issue. heeren naturally rests on this solution. the "new religion," he says, "was suited to the north, but not to the south. the calm and investigating spirit of the german nations found in it the nourishment which it required and sought for.... the more vivid imagination and sensitive feelings of the people of the south ... found little to please them in its tenets.... it was not, therefore, owing to the prohibitions of the government, but to the character of the nations themselves, that the reformation found no support among them" (vol. cited, pp. , ). the two explanations of climate and race can thus be employed alternatively at need. ireland, though "northern," is to be got rid of as not being "german." for the rest, the albigenses, the _paterini_, the reforming franciscans, and the myriad victims of the inquisition in spain, are conveniently ignored. heeren's phrase about the "almost total exclusion" of the southern countries from the "great ferment of ideas which in other countries of civilised europe gave activity and life to the human intellect" can be described only as a piece of concentrated misinformation. and a similar judgment must be passed on the summing-up of mr. symonds that "germany achieved the labour of the reformation almost single-handed" (_renaissance in italy_, nd ed. i, ). there is far more truth in the verdict of guizot, that "la principale lutte d'érudition et de doctrine contre l'eglise catholique a été soutenue par la réforme française; c'est en france et en hollande, et toujours en français, qu'ont été écrits tants d'ouvrages philosophiques, historiques, polémiques, à l'appui de cette cause" (_civilisation en france_, i, ). motley, though an uncritical teutophile and gallophobe, admits as to holland that "the reformation first entered the provinces, not through the augsburg but the huguenot gate" (_rise of the dutch republic_, ed. , p. ). as to the spirit of reformation in italy and spain, the student may consult the two careful and learned _histories_ of m'crie, works which might have saved many vain generalisations by later writers, had they heeded them. the question of the supposed racial determination of the reformation is discussed at some length in _the saxon and the celt_, pp. - , - , , . cp. _the dynamics of religion_, , pt. i; _letters on reasoning_, nd ed. , pp. - ; and _a short history of freethought_, vol. i, chs. ix, x, xi. the history of italian religious life shows that the spirit of sheer reformation in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was stronger there than even in france in the sixteenth, where again it was perhaps positively stronger than in germany, though not stronger relatively to the resistance. and in italy the resistance was personified in the papacy, which there had its seat and strength. when all is said, however, the facts remain that in england the reformation meant sordid spoliation, retrogression in culture, and finally civil war; that in france it meant long periods of furious strife; that in germany, where it "prospered," it meant finally a whole generation of the most ruinous warfare the modern world had seen, throwing back german civilisation a full hundred years. save for the original agony of conquest and the special sting of subjection to alien rule, italy suffered in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries less evils than these. the lesson of our retrospect, then, is: ( ) generally, that as between medieval italian development and that of other countries--say our own--there has been difference, not of "race character" and "faculty," but of favouring and adverse conditions; and ( ) particularly, that certain social evils which went on worsening in florence and are in some degree present in all societies to-day, call for scientific treatment lest they go on worsening with us. the modern problem is in many respects different from that of pre-reformation italy; but the forces concerned are kindred, and it may be worth while to note the broad facts of the past process with some particularity. § the central fact of disunion in italian life, complicated as we have seen it to be by extraneous factors, analyses down to the eternal conflict of interests of the rich and the poor, the very rich and the less rich, or, as italian humour figured it, the "fat" and the "lean." for machiavelli this is the salient trouble in the florentine retrospect, since it survived the feuds of guelph and ghibelline; though he sets down to the papacy the foreign invasions and the disunion of the cities. the faction-feuds, of course, tell of the psychological conditions of the feud of rich and poor, and were to some extent an early form of the feud,[ ] the imperialist ghibellines being originally the more aristocratic faction; while the papalist guelphs, by the admission of machiavelli, were the more friendly to the popular liberties, that being the natural course for the papacy to take. the imperial cause, on the other hand, was badly compromised by the tyranny of the terrible ezzelino iii, the representative of frederick ii in the trevisan march, who ruled half-a-dozen cities in a fashion never exceeded for cruelty in the later ages of italian tyranny.[ ] whatever democratic feeling there was must needs be on the other side. after florence had recast its constitution at the death of frederick ii, establishing twelve _anziani_ or magistrates, replaced every two months, and two foreign judges--one the upper-class _podestà_ and the other the captain of the people[ ]--to prevent grounds of quarrel, matters were in fair train, and the city approved its unity by the sinister steps of forcing pistoia, arezzo, and siena to join its confederation, capturing volterra, and destroying several villages, whose inhabitants were deported to florence. but new plots on behalf of manfred led to the expulsion of the ghibellines, who in turn, getting the upper hand with no sense of permanence, reasoned that to make their party safe they must destroy the city; a purpose changed, as the familiar story goes, only by the protest of the florentine ghibelline chief, farinata degli uberti. they then tried, in obvious bad faith, the expedient of conciliating the people, whom they had always hitherto oppressed, by giving them a quasi-democratic constitution, in which the skilled workers were recognised as bodies, to which all citizens had to belong.[ ] but this scheme being accompanied by fresh taxation, the ghibellines were driven out by force; and once more the guelphs, now backed by charles of anjou ( ), organised a government of twelve magistrates, adding a council of twenty-four upper-class citizens, called the _credenza_, and yet another body of popular deputies, thirty for each of the six quarters of the city, making up with the others a council general. to this, however, was strangely added yet another council of , charged with executive functions. the purpose was to identify the guelph cause with that of the people--that is, the lower _bourgeoisie_ and skilled artisans; and the property of the exiled ghibellines was confiscated and divided among the public treasury, the heads of the ruling party, and the guelphs in general. at this stage the effort of gregory x, at his election, to effect a restoration of the ghibellines and a general reconciliation, naturally failed. yet when his successor, nicolas iii, persisted in the anti-french policy, he was able through his northern legate to persuade the city, suffering from the lawlessness of the guelph as of old from that of the ghibelline nobles, to recall the latter and set up a new constitution of fourteen governors, seven of each party, all nominated by the pope--a system which lasted ten years. then came another french interregnum; whereafter, on the fall of the french rule in sicily in , there was set up yet another constitution of compromise. for the council of fourteen was set up one of three _priori delle arti_, heads of the crafts--a number immediately raised to six, so as to give one prior to each ward of the city, with a change in the title to _signoria_. these were to be elected every two months. the system, aristocratic in respect of its small governing body, yet by its elective method lent itself peculiarly to the new _bourgeois_ tendencies; and thenceforward, says machiavelli, we find the parties of guelph and ghibelline in florence supplanted by the simpler enmity of rich and poor. soon many of the nobles, albeit guelph, were driven out of the city, or declared disqualified for priorship on the score of their past disorders; and outside they set up new feuds. while florence thus held out, other cities sought safety in one-man-power, choosing some noble as "captain of the people" and setting him above the magistrates. thus pagano della torre, a guelph, became war-lord of milan, and his brothers succeeded him, till the office came to be looked on as hereditary, and other cities inclined to choose the same head. and so astutely egotistic was the action of all the forces concerned, that when the guelph house of della torre thus became unmanageably powerful, the papacy did not scruple to appoint to the archbishopric of milan an exiled ghibelline, visconti. "henceforward," says sismondi, "the rivalry between the families of della torre and visconti made that between the people and the nobles almost forgotten." the visconti finally defeated the other faction, made milan ghibelline, and became its virtual rulers. on the other hand, the entrance of a french army under charles of anjou, called in by a french pope to conquer the ghibelline realm of the two sicilies ( ), put a due share of wrong to the account of the guelphs, the french power standing for something very like barbarism. its first achievement was to exterminate the saracen name and religion in sicily. on its heels came a new irruption from germany, in the person of conradin, the claimant of the imperial succession, to whom joined themselves pisa and siena, in opposition to their big neighbour and enemy florence, and the people of rome itself, at quarrel with their pope, who had left the city for viterbo. by conradin's defeat the french power became paramount; and then it was that the next pope, gregory x, sought to restore the ghibellines as counterpoise: a policy pursued by his successor, to the end, however, of substituting ( ) papal for imperial claims over italy. even florence at his wish recalled her ghibellines. but then came the forced election of another french pope, who acted wholly in the french interest, and re-exiled everywhere the ghibellines: a process speedily followed in turn by the "sicilian vespers," involving the massacre and expulsion of the french, and introducing a spanish king as representative of the imperial line. again the papacy encouraged the other power, relieving charles ii, as king of naples, from his treaty oath, and set him upon making a war with sicily, which dragged for twenty-four years. such were the main political features of the italy of dante. the papacy, becoming a prize of the leading roman families, played a varying game as between the two monarchies of the south and their partisans in the north; and the minor cities, like the greater, underwent chronic revolutions. still, so abundant was the italian outflow of intellectual and inventive energy, so substantial was the general freedom of the cities, and so soundly was the average regimen founded on energetic agriculture and commerce, that wealth abounded on all hands. with the new french invasion ( ) under charles of valois, called in by boniface viii to aid him against sicily, a partially new stage begins. charles was received at florence as the typical guelph; but, being counselled by the pope to pacify tuscany to his own advantage, allied himself with the ultra-guelphs, the _neri_, gave up to plunder, the proceeds of which he pocketed, the houses of the other or pro-ghibelline faction, the _bianchi_, and enforced the execution or exile of its leading men, including dante. then came the election of a strictly french pope and his establishment at avignon. a new lease being now given to faction, the cities rapidly lapsed into the over-lord system as the only means of preserving order; and when in a new emperor, henry vii, presented himself for homage and claimed to place an imperial vicar in each city, most were well disposed to agree. when however henry, like charles, showed himself mainly bent on plunder, demanding , florins from milan and , from genoa, he destroyed his prestige. he had insisted on the recall of all exiles of either party; but all united against his demands, save the pisans, who had sent him , florins in advance. his sudden death, on his way to fight the forces of naples, left everything in a new suspense, save that pisa, already shorn of maritime power, was soon eclipsed, after setting up a military tyranny as a last resort. the _régime_ of the local tyrant now rapidly developed. on the fall of the pisan tyrant rose that of lucca, castruccio castracani, the great type, after ezzelino, of the italian despot-adventurer of the renaissance. such a leader was too dangerous an antagonist to such a corporation as that of florence--once more ( ) reconstructed on an upper-class basis, with a scrutinised franchise, election by ballot, and a more complicated system of offices than ever.[ ] to command them against castruccio, they called in the catalonian general cardona, who utterly failed them. he took the course of so handling and placing his troops as to force those citizens in the army who could afford it to buy leave of absence, and was finally defeated with his wilfully weakened army. florence was driven to call in the king of naples, at the price of conferring the _signoria_ on his son. meanwhile the new emperor ludwig, called in by castruccio, plundered the milanese and imprisoned their lords, the visconti, who had been of his own party; extorted , florins from the pisans; tortured, to extort treasure, a ghibelline who had given up to him a fortress in the papal state; and generally showed the italians, before he withdrew, that a german tyrant could beat even a native at once in treachery, cruelty, and avarice. castruccio and the son of the king of naples, who had proved a bad bargain, died about the same time as did the reigning visconti at milan, the reigning tyrant at mantua, and can' grande of verona, the successor of ezzelino, who had conquered padua. again the encouraged middle class of florence recast their constitution ( ), annulling the old councils and electing two new: a council of the "people," composed of middle-class citizens, and a council of the commune, composed of of both orders. elsewhere the balance inclined to anarchy and despotism, as of old. a new emperor, john of bohemia, offered ( ) a new chance of pacification, eagerly welcomed, to a harassed people, in large part shaken by military dangers in its devotion to republicanism, and weary of local tyrannies. but against the new imperialism florence stoutly held out, with the aid of lombard ghibellines; the new emperor, leaving italy, sold his influence everywhere to local tyrants, and once more everything was in suspense. at length, in , there occurred the new phenomenon of a combination between florence and venice against a new tyrant of padua and lucca, who had betrayed florence; but the venetians in turn did the same thing, leaving the florentines half a million of florins in debt; whereupon they were attacked by their old enemies the pisans, who heavily defeated them and captured lucca, for which florence had been fighting. it was in this stage of demoralisation that the florentines ( ) suddenly forced their _signoria_ to give the war-lordship to the french gaultier de brienne, "duke of athens," formerly the right-hand man of the son of the king of naples, who had now been sent to them as a new commander by that king, on the request of the commission of twenty charged with the war. the commission elected him to the sole command in order to save themselves[ ] and pacify the people; and his natural associates, the old nobility, counselled him to seize the government, which he gradually did, beheading and exiling the discredited middle-class leaders, and so winning the support of the populace, who, on his putting himself for open election to the _signoria_ for one year, acclaimed him to the function for life. to this pass had come the see-saw of middle class (_popolo_) and upper class, with a populace held in pupilage. sismondi, in his _short history_, pp. , , seems to represent the episode as wholly one of wanton popular caprice and venality, even representing that duke gaultier was only by chance in the city. the narrative of machiavelli explicitly sets forth how he came through the appeal of the commission of twenty; how the nobility and some of the _bourgeoisie_ conspired with him; and how the populace were worked upon by the conspirators. the public acclamation, bad as it was, had been carefully subsidised. the middle class, whose war policy, however, had brought the city into such danger, were far more guilty than the mostly unenfranchised populace. sismondi had latterly an undue faith in the principle of middle-class rule. (cp. mr. boulting's memoir in his recast of the _républiques_, p. xxiv.) in his _histoire des républiques italiennes_ (v, - ) he sets forth the financial corruption of the middle-class rulers (p. ), and recognises that they and the aristocrats were alike dangerous to liberty. cp. as to his change of front, f. morin, _origines de la démocratie_, e édit. , introd. pp. - . within a year, partly on the sudden pressure of a scarcity, the tyrant was overthrown, after having wrung from florence , florins and infuriated all classes against him and his race. not the least of his offences was his conclusion of a peace with pisa, by which she for a given period was to rule over lucca. the rising against him was universal. three of his henchmen were literally torn to pieces with hands and teeth: a madness of fury which was only too profoundly in keeping with the self-abandonment that had placed the tyrant in power. the political organism was beginning to disintegrate. a new constitution was set up, with a leaning to aristocracy, which was soon upset by the middle class, who in turn established yet another. the nobles, believing the populace to be hostile to the _bourgeoisie_, attempted anew a revolution, and were utterly crushed. and now began, according to the greatest of the publicists of the renaissance, the final enfeeblement of florence, in that the ruin of the nobility, whose one merit had been their fighting power, led to the abandonment of all military exercise.[ ] yet florence a generation later made vigorous war under a "committee," and in the meantime at least the city tasted domestic peace and grew in civilisation. and though we doubtless exaggerate when we conceive of a transition from what we are apt to figure as the fierce and laughterless florence of dante to the gay florence of the medici, it is hard to hold that life was worsened when men changed the ways which made them collectively capable of rending with their teeth the carcases of those they hated, and which left the viscontis of milan capable of torturing their political prisoners to death through forty days. still the process of disintegration and reintegration proceeded. the tyrants of the smaller cities usually established themselves by the aid of professional mercenaries, german and other, whom, when their funds failed, they turned loose to shift for themselves, having in the meantime disarmed the citizens. these companies, swelled by others disbanded after the english wars in france, ravaged and plundered italy from montferrat to naples, and were everywhere bought off save by florence. only the pope and the greater tyrants could keep them regularly in pay; and by their means the viscontis became lords of sixteen cities of lombardy, while the papacy began to build up a military power. naples, on the other hand, continuously degenerated; while genoa and venice exhausted each other in deadly strife for the commercial monopoly of the east; and pisa leaned to the viscontis, who ultimately obtained its headship. rome, popeless, and domineered over by warring nobles, had its brief vision of a republic under the dreamer cola di rienzi, who at last fell by the hand of the masses whom he had for a brief space hypnotised. neither he nor they were meet for the destiny they fain would have fulfilled; and had people and leader alike been worthier, they would ultimately have failed to master the forces joined against them. rienzi's brief, and on some sides remarkably vigorous, administration in - was not wholly unworthy of his ideal of "the good estate"; he seems, indeed, to have ruled the roman territory with an efficiency that recalled the ancient state; and his early successes against the nobles tell of unexpected weakness on their side and energy on that of the people. his dream of an italian federation, too, remains to prove that he was no mere mob-leader. but had he been as stable in purpose and policy as he was heady and capricious, and had the roman populace been as steadfast as it was turbulent, the forces of division represented by the nobles and the papacy would ultimately have overthrown any republican polity. what florence could not compass, rome could not maintain. two centuries before, arnold of brescia had fallen, after fifteen years of popularity, as soon as pope and emperor joined hands against him; and the papalism of rienzi was as fatal to him as anti-papalism had been to arnold. had rienzi had his way, the pope would have at once returned to rome; and where the papacy was, no republic could endure, however strong and sober were its head. and rienzi was not sober. after his overthrow in and his seven years of wandering exile, he was restored solely by the choice and as the agent of the pope at avignon; and his death in a tumult after four months of renewed office was the end of his cause. in florence the disintegration went on apace. a new emperor, charles iv, charged the city , florins ( ) for her immunities, leaving all men hopeless as ever of the empire as a political solution; and when the crimes of the viscontis drove cities and papacy to call charles in against them ( ), he did but use the opportunity to levy blackmail wherever he went. later ( ), the papacy combined with florence against the reigning visconti, but only to betray its ally. and now occurred what for a time must have seemed a vital revolution in italian affairs; the infuriated florentines suddenly allying themselves with visconti, the enemy of the day before, against the treacherous pope, and framing a league with siena, lucca, and pisa against the church that florence had so long sustained. eighty towns in ten days drove out their legates; and furious reprisals broke out on all hands, till the very pope at avignon was fain to come to stay the universal warfare. now, however, an aristocratic and papalist party in florence bitterly opposed "the eight" who managed the war, the aristocracy having gravitated to the papal side; and at length exhaustion and the absolute instability of all alliances brought about a peace in which most of the cities, freed from the papacy--now become an affair of two mutually anathematising heads--fell once more under local tyrants. in the hour of extreme need the papacy was, if possible, a worse influence than the emperor; nowhere was to be found a force of stability save in the tyrannies, which were merely unstable with a difference. florence, still republican and still obstinately prosperous, stood as a strange anomaly in the general transformation. but she had now reached the stage when the long-ignored populace--the multitude beneath the _popolo_--made up of handworkers with no nominal incorporation or franchise, was able to press its claims as against the other orders, which in turn were divided, as of old, by the jealousies between the major and minor middle-class guilds and between the new nobility of capital and their former equals. refused the status of incorporation, the _ciompi_ ("chums" or "mates," from the french _compère_) made _their_ insurrection in turn, finding for the nonce in a wool-carder a leader of the best quality the time could show, who carried his point, was chosen head magistrate, enforced order among his own partisans, and established a new magistracy, with three representatives of the major arts, three of the minor ( ). among other things, the _ciompi_ demanded that interest should no longer be paid on the public debt; that the principal be paid off in twelve years, and that no "small people" should be sued for debts under fifty florins for the next two years (see trollope, ii, ). the trouble was that the brains in the movement, good as they were, could not permanently control the spirit of riot. sismondi, after arguing (_short history_, p. ) in the whig manner that "those who have not learnt to think, those to whom manual labour leaves no time for meditation, ought not to undertake the guidance of their fellow-citizens," amusingly proceeds (p. ) to point to the capacity of lando as showing "how much a free government spreads sound sense and elevated sentiments among even the lowest classes of society." immediately afterwards he has to record how the upper classes fell into fresh disorders. but where the educated burgesses and nobles had failed in the science of self-government, the mass of untrained toilers[ ] could not succeed. suborned doubtless by the other classes, they rebelled against the man whom they had made leader, and were by him promptly and capably suppressed, many being exiled; whereupon in due course he was himself deprived of his post by the old parties, and the new order was annulled ( ). after fresh strifes and proscriptions among the aristocracy themselves, all traces of the popular rising were effaced, and the aristocracy of wealth was definitely re-established. what had happened was the attainment of the capitalistic stage and the enthronement of capital in the republican state. in place of strifes between wealth and nobility there had arisen the strife of capital and labour, the new aristocracy of wealth having in large part taken the place of that of descent. the latter transition had occurred nearly simultaneously in the other remaining republics. genoa had substituted factions with the names of new wealthy families for the old. in siena, where the _bourgeoisie_ dispossessed the nobles, they were in turn assailed by "reformers" of the lower class, who were finally defeated in battle and exiled wholesale ( ). meantime the hereditary tyrants of milan, the visconti, with their singular continuity of capacity, had grown stronger than ever, had built up a native and scientific military system, and more than ever menaced all their neighbours. florence called in aid successively from germany and france ( - ); but the milanese army triumphed over all; and the skilled adventurer sir john hawkwood, the hired general of the florentine troops, could not hold his ground. the emperor, as usual, was satisfied to take payment for non-intervention; and the reigning visconti, gian galeazza, invested by the emperor with the titles of duke of mantua and count of pavia, and the lordship of twenty-six cities, had by the year further compassed, by all manner of fraud and force, the mastery of pisa, perugia, genoa, siena, lucca, and bologna, dying of the plague at the height of his power. his sons being boys, his power broke up among his generals, to be in large part recovered later, however, by his second son, who first assassinated the elder. at this stage venice once more intervenes, taking up the cause of verona against the tyrant of padua, whom, having defeated him by her carefully-chosen and supervised mercenaries, she put to death ( ). he had been the ally of florence; but florence let him fall, being now wholly bent on reconquering pisa, her natural seaport. pisa, in turn, always invincibly opposed to florentine rule, was on commercial grounds backed by genoa, now under the nominal rule of a representative of the king of france, who, however, sought to sell pisa to the florentines, and did receive from them , florins. still resisting, the pisans recalled an exile to lead them; and he in turn sold them for , florins, this time to their complete undoing. refusing all florentine favours, the bulk of the ruling middle-class abandoned the city for ever, taking much of its special commerce with them. meantime, the kingdom of naples, under an energetic king, ladislaus, had acquired most of the states of the distracted church, menaced florence, and was pressing her hard, despite french support, when ladislaus died ( ). by this time the new visconti was establishing himself at milan by means of mercenaries, commanded for him by well-chosen captains. six times were the florentines defeated by his forces; till his capable general, carmagnola, whom he had disgraced, revealed to the council of venice his master's intention to attack them; and venice joined florence to crush the tyrant. carmagnola, acting slackly, met ill success, and was therefore executed by his venetian masters. but the visconti too finally died defeated, leaving his power to a new adventurer, francesco sforza, who had married his daughter, and had fought both for and against him in the endless imbroglio of italian conspiracy. florentine republicanism was now near its euthanasia. by the fatal law of empire, the perpetual enterprise of destroying other men's freedom left florence unfit to use or to defend her own; and the tyrants of pisa became meet for the yoke of tyranny. the family of medici, growing rapidly rich, began to use the power of capital as elsewhere less astute adventurers used the power of the sword. from the overthrow of the _ciompi_ party in to , the republic had been ruled by a faction of the new commercial aristocracy with substantial unity; and the period is claimed as the most prosperous, intellectually and materially, though not the most progressive, in florentine history. see above, p. - . perrens (_histoire de florence_, trans. cited, pp. - , ) thinks otherwise, but does not blame the oligarchy. sismondi, in his larger and earlier work (_républiques_, ed. , xi, ), represents that florence _ceased_ to be great under the medici; cp. however, xii, , and the different note in the reactionary _short history_ (p. ), where he deems that in this period were born and formed "all those great men" whose glory is credited to the medici. this holds good of brunelleschi the architect, masallio the artist, and ghiberti the sculptor, as well as of poggio and other scholars. cp. zeller, _histoire d'italie_, , p. , and the list given by perrens, _histoire de florence_, trans. cited, p. . m. perrens pronounces that under lorenzo "the decadence of sculpture is visible, and still more that of architecture," both being too rapidly produced from motives of gain (_la civilisation florentine du e siècle au e_, , p. ). here he follows romohr (see _histoire de florence_, last cited). lorenzo, he notes, had the reactionary belief, odd on the part of a merchant, that only nobles could produce perfect work, they only having the necessary leisure. he accordingly ignored all plebeian genius, such as that of leonardo da vinci. cosimo de' medici, descendant of a democrat, was grown too rich to be one in his turn; and between him and the albizzi, who led the ruling faction, there grew up one of the old and typical jealousies of power-seekers. exiled by a packed _balia_, cosimo's wealth enabled him to turn the tables in a year and exile his exilers, taking their place and silently absorbing their power. "the moment was come when the credit of the medici was to prevail over the legal power of the florentine _signoria_." thus when the visconti died, cosimo and the doge of venice combined their forces to prevent the recovery of the republican independence of milan, whose middle class, divided by their own jealousies, speedily succumbed to the fraud and force of sforza, the visconti's heir. for thirty years cosimo maintained at florence, by the power of capital, prosperity and peace under the semblance of the old constitution, the richer of the ever-renewed capitalist class accepting his primacy, while the populace, being more equitably governed than of yore under the old nobility, and being steadily prosperous, saw no ground for revolt. capital as "tyrant" had in fact done what the tyrants of early greece and rome are presumed to have often done--favoured the people as against the aristocracy; cosimo's liberality giving employment and pay at the same time to the artisans and to the scholars. under cosimo and his political colleagues, doubtless, the subject cities were corruptly governed; but florence seems to have been discreetly handled. attempts to break the capitalistic domination came to nothing, save the exile or at a pinch the death of the malcontents. [under all of the medici, it appears, "the fiscal legislation adhered to the principle of burdening the old nobility of the city" (von reumont, _lorenzo de' medici_, eng. tr. i, ). they however built up a fresh public debt, and their finance had very crooked aspects, especially under lorenzo, who lacked the mercantile faculty of his grandfather (_id._ pp. - . cp. perrens, _histoire de florence_, trans. cited, pp. - , , - , - ). lorenzo was even accused of appropriating the dowries of orphan girls; and it seems clear that he defrauded the _monte delle doti_, or dowry bank. as regards fiscal policy, it may be interesting to note that in florence taxes had been imposed alternately on capital or income from the thirteenth century onwards, both being taken at the lowest values, and rated at from one-half to three per cent. according to the _estimo_ (esquiron de parieu, _traité des impôts_, e édit. , i, ). these taxes in turn were probably suggested by the practice of ancient athens, where extraordinary revenue for war purposes was obtained "partly from voluntary contributions, partly from a graduated income or property tax." in a fresh income-tax of ten per cent. on an already heavily taxed city incited the decisive rising against the rule of the ghibelline count guido. the earlier historians of florence, like most others, pay little attention to the history of taxation; but details emerge for the later period. in giovanni de' medici imposed on florence a tax called the _catasto_--apparently not, like earlier taxes of the same name, based on a survey of land, but on disposable or movable capital--and also one of / per cent. on income over what was necessary to support life. further, he levied a super-tax, which was paid by , citizens out of the , who came under the _catasto_. at a pinch, the _catasto_ was levied several times in the year. yet further, a regularly graduated income-tax was imposed by cosimo de' medici, in , and raised in ; but, in this case, the salutary principle of sparing the amount of income necessary to sustain life seems to have been departed from, since incomes of from one to fifty florins paid per cent., the rate gradually rising thereafter to - / per cent. for incomes over , florins. by reason of bad finance, further, taxes had now to be levied even ten and fifteen times a year. cp. perrens, as last cited. it is yet further noteworthy that, from to , traders were required to show their books to the revenue officers for the purpose of fair assessment. the abandonment of this provision seems to have been partly due to the evasions practised by the traders, partly to the irritation and the abuses set up by it.] at cosimo's death there was dynastic strife of capital, as elsewhere of blood; but the blundering financier pitti went to the wall, and the invalid piero de' medici kept his father's power. at his death the group of his henchmen kept their hold on it; and in time his son lorenzo ousted them and engrossed all, escaping the plot which was fatal to his brother. the failure of that and other plots, in florence and elsewhere, sufficed to prove that the artisans, well employed and protected by the laws, had no concern to upset the orderly and business-like "tyranny" either of one great capitalist or of a prince, in the interest of an oligarchy which would rule no better, which gave them no more of political privilege than did he, and which was less ready than he with public gifts. thus he had little difficulty in cutting down every institution that restricted his power, whether popular or oligarchic.[ ] italian republicanism had always been a matter of either upper-class or middle-class rule; and when the old upper class of feudal descent was superseded by one of commercial descent, the populace had nothing to gain by supporting the bourgeoisie. a capitalistic "lord," most of whose wealth was in its nature unseizable, was thus a more stable power than any mere swordsman among swordsmen; and lorenzo de' medici not only crushed all the conspiracies against him, but held his own against the dangerous alliance of the republican pope sixtus iv and the king of naples--the menace of turkish invasion helping him. when, early in his reign, he joined in and carried through the plot for the confiscation of volterra, chiefly in order to secure a hold on its rich alum mines, his popularity at florence was in the ratio of the baseness of his triumph. as always, imperialism and corruption went hand in hand, and the florentines ensured their own servitude by their eagerness to compass the fall of others.[ ] after lorenzo's death ( ) only the incompetence of his son piero at the hazardous juncture of the new french invasion under charles viii could upset the now hereditary power of the house; but such incompetence at such a crisis was sufficient, savonarola having now set up a new democratic force, partly analogous to that of puritanism in the england of a later age. the new party, however, brought no new political science.[ ] republican florence in its interim of self-government proceeded as of old to make war on indomitable pisa, with which it could never consent to live on terms of equality. time after time, vanquished by force and treachery, the pisans had again cast loose, fighting for independence as fiercely as did their fathers of a previous generation. savonarola, who had no better light for this problem than was given to the other florentines of his age, "staked the truth of his inspiration on the recovery of pisa"; he had not a grain of sympathy for the pisans, and punished those who had;[ ] and though his party had the wisdom to proclaim a general amnesty for florence ( ), the war against pisa went on, with the french king insensately admitted as a florentine ally. savonarola in his turn fell, on his plain failure to evoke the miraculous aid on the wild promise of which he had so desperately traded; his party of pietists went to pieces; and the upper-class party which succeeded carried on the war, destroying the pisan harvests every year, till, under the one-man command of loderini, florence triumphed ( ), and the staunch sea-city fell once more. even now the conquering city consented to pay great bribes to the kings of france and aragon for leave to take her prey. and once more multitudes of pisans emigrated, refusing to live in subjection, despite all attempts at conciliation.[ ] slowly the monarchic powers closed in; france, after several campaigns, decisively defeated and captured lodovico sforza, lord of milan, and proceeded by a secret treaty with spain to partition the kingdom of naples--a rascals' bargain, which ended in a quarrel and in the destruction of two french armies; spain remaining master of naples and the sicilies, while france held the milanese and liguria, including genoa. for a few years cesare borgia flared across the italian sky, only to fall with his great purposes unfulfilled; and still the foreign powers encroached. france, with swiss support, proceeded in turn to make war on venice; and the emperor, the pope, spain, and the smaller neighbouring despots, joined in the attack. against these dastardly odds the invincible oligarchy of venice held out, till pope julius, finding his barbarian friends worse than his italian enemies, changed sides, joined the republic, and after many reverses got together an anti-french league of english, swiss, and spanish. finally the emperor betrayed his french allies, who were once more driven out of italy, leaving their ally, florence, to fall into the hands of the spaniards ( ). now came the restoration of the family of medici, soon followed by the elevation of giovanni de' medici to the papacy as leo x; whence came yet more wars, enough to paralyse italy financially had there been no other impoverishing cause. but leo x, now the chief italian power, misgoverned in secular affairs as badly as in ecclesiastical; and the wars, so barbarous in themselves, were waged upon dwindling resources. venice, pressed afresh by maximilian, made alliance with louis, who was defeated by the swiss, as defenders and "lords" of milan; whereupon the spanish, papal, and german forces successively ravaged the venetian territories. francis i zealously renewed the war, grappled with the swiss in the desperate battle of marignano in such sort as to get them to come to terms, and compassed the sovereignty of milan. on the succession of charles v to the throne of spain and the empire ( ), war between him and francis set in systematically, and continued under adrian and clement vii as under leo, both combatants feeding on and plundering italy. the defeat of francis at pavia ( ) brought no cessation to the drain; a new league was formed between france, the papacy, venice, and sforza; and soon, besides the regular armies, a guerilla horde of germans on the imperial side, receiving no pay, was living by the plunder of lombardy. at length, in , came the sack of rome by the imperial forces, germans and spanish combining for nine miserable months to outdo the brutalities and the horrors of all previous conquests, christian or heathen. two years' more fighting "only added to the desolation of italy, and destroyed alike in all the italian provinces the last remains of prosperity."[ ] when a fresh german army entered lombardy, in , there was "nothing more to pillage."[ ] the curtain now falls rapidly on every form of "independence" in italy. pope clement vii, freed of his barbarian conquerors, sent them against florence, which fell in a fashion not unworthy of its great republican tradition, after tasting three final years of its ancient and thrice-forfeited "freedom." with the dying machiavelli to frame the ordinances of her revived military system, and michel angelo to construct her last fortifications, she had in her final effort bound up with her name as a republic two of the greatest italian names of the age of the renaissance. then came the vengeance of the medicean pope, clement vii, the ducal tyranny, and the end of a great period. the prolonged life of the maritime and commercial-aristocratic republics of genoa and venice, interesting as a proof of the defensive powers of communities so placed and so ordered, was no prolongation of italian civilisation, save in so far as a brilliant art survived at venice till the close of the sixteenth century. it is sufficient to note that what of artistic and intellectual life venice and genoa had was dependent first on venetian contact with byzantium, and later on the fecundity of freer italy. the mere longer duration of venice was due as much to her unique situation as to her system. on the other hand, it seems substantially true that the venetian oligarchy did rule its subjects, both at home and on the mainland, with greater wisdom and fairness than was shown by any other italian power. when castruccio castracani drove nine hundred families out of lucca in , thus destroying some of its chief manufactures, venice gave the silk-weavers among them a politic encouragement, and so widened her commercial basis.[ ] her rulers, in short, had the common sense of men of business, who knew the value of goodwill. there is thus an unwarrantable extravagance in the verdict of the young macaulay, that in venice "aristocracy had destroyed every seed of genius and virtue";[ ] and in his outburst: "god forbid that there should ever again exist a powerful and civilised state which, after existing through thirteen hundred eventful years, shall not bequeath to mankind the memory of one great name or one generous action." such actions are not rife in any history, and in mere civic selfishness of purpose the rulers of venice were on a par with most others.[ ] as citizens, or as a caste, they seem to have been not more but less self-seeking as against the rest of the community, despite their determined exclusiveness, than the same class in other states.[ ] their history does but prove that an astute oligarchy, protectively governing a commercial and industrial state, is not helpful to civilisation in the ratio of its power and stability, and that the higher political wisdom is not the appanage of any class. when all is said, the whole italian civilisation of the middle ages and the renaissance represents a clear political gain over that of ancient hellas in that it had transcended slavery, while failing to attain or to aim at the equality and fraternity which alone realise liberty. despite, too, all the scandals of the renaissance in general, and of papal rome in particular, the life of such a city as florence was morally quite on a par with that of any northern city.[ ] but the later states and civilisations which, while so much more fortunate in their political conditions, are still so far from the moral liberation of their labouring masses--these are not entitled to plume themselves on their comparative success. "the petty done" is still dwarfed by "the undone vast." what they and we may truly claim is that in the modern state, freed from the primal curse of fratricidal strife between cities and provinces, the totality of "good life," no less than of industrial and commercial life, is far greater than of old, even if signal genius be less common. to contrast the genoa of to-day with the old city-state is to realise how peace can liberate human effort. the city of petrarch, columbus, and mazzini has no recent citizen of european fame; but since a wealthy son bequeathed to her his huge fortune ( ), she has become the chief port of italy, passing some forty per cent. of the total trade of the country. the fact that half her imports, in weight, consist of coal, tells of the main economic disadvantage of modern italy as compared with the chief northern countries; but the modern development of industry is all the more notable. under a system of general free trade, it might go much further. the fact remains that modern italy is no such intellectual beacon-light among the nations as she was in the "old, unhappy, far-off times"; and upon this the historical sentimentalist is prone to moralise. but there is no perceptible reason why the new life, well managed, should not yield new intellectual glories; and the latterday intellectual renaissance of italy may one day take its place in the historic retrospect as no less notable than that of the days of strife. footnotes: [footnote : burckhardt (as cited, p. ) agrees with ranke that, if italy had escaped subjugation by the spaniards, she would have fallen into the hands of the turks.] [footnote : burckhardt, p. . freeman, from whom one looks for details (_history of federal government in greece and italy_, ed. , pp. , ), gives none.] [footnote : _purgatorio_, canto vi, - .] [footnote : machiavelli, however, had special schemes of constitutional compromise (see burckhardt, p. , and roscoe, _life of leo x_, ed. , ii, , ); and there were many framers of paper constitutions for florence (burckhardt, p. ).] [footnote : see gibbon, ch. . bohn ed. vii, , .] [footnote : cp. burckhardt, pp. , .] [footnote : lea, _historical sketch of sacerdotal celibacy_, nd ed. pp. - , - , - , - .] [footnote : sismondi, _short history_, p. .] [footnote : trollope notes (_history of the commonwealth of florence_, i, ) how dante and villani caught at the theory of an intermixture of alien blood as an explanation of the strifes which in florence, as elsewhere, grew out of the primordial and universal passions of men in an expanding society. villari (_two first centuries_, p. ) endorses the old theory without asking how civil strifes came about in the cities of early greece and in those of the netherlands.] [footnote : which, however, was probably already being weakened by the silting up of the pisan harbour. this seems to have begun through the action of the genoese in blocking it with huge masses of stone in . bent, _genoa_, pp. - . sismondi notes that, after the great defeat of , "all the fishermen of the coast quitted the pisan galleys for those of genoa." _short history_, p. . as to the pisan harbour, whose very site is now uncertain, see pignotti, _hist. of tuscany_, eng. tr. iii, , _note_.] [footnote : after destroying ugolino, the pisans chose as leader guido de montefeltro, who made their militia a formidable power.] [footnote : pignotti, as cited, iii, - .] [footnote : heeren, as cited, pp. , , etc.] [footnote : cp. trollope, _history of florence_, i, ; villari, _two first centuries_, pp. , .] [footnote : cp. sismondi, _short history_, pp. - .] [footnote : _podestà_, as we have seen, was an old imperialist title. in florence it became communal, and in it was first held by a foreigner, chosen, it would seem, as likely to be more impartial than a native. cp., however, the comments of villari, _first two centuries_, p. , and trollope, i, , ; and the mention by plutarch, _de amore prolis_, § , as to the same development among the greeks. in the memoirs of fra salimbene ( - ) there is mention that in the parmesans "made a friar their _podestà_, who put an end to all feuds" (trans. by t.k. l. oliphant, in _the duke and the scholar_, , p. ). the florentine institution of the _priori delle arti_, mentioned below, is traced back as far as (cantù, as cited, viii, , _note_). the _anziani_, during their term of office, slept at the public palace, and could not go out save together.] [footnote : thus dante and lorenzo de' medici belonged to the craft of apothecaries.] [footnote : see trollope, ii, , as to the endless florentine devices to check special power and to vary the balance of the constitution.] [footnote : two years before a feebler attempt had been made to set up a military tool, named gabrielli.] [footnote : machiavelli, _istorie_, end of . ii and beginning of . iii.] [footnote : according to giovanni villani, in the fourteenth century there were schools only for , children, and only , were taught arithmetic.] [footnote : details in perrens' _histoire de florence_, eng. trans. of vol. viii, pp. , - , , , .] [footnote : cp. perrens, trans. cited, pp. - .] [footnote : m. perrens indeed pronounces the two councils set up by savonarola's party to be much superior to the former bodies (_la civilisation florentine_, p. ); but he admits that "at bottom and from the start the system was vitiated by the theocracy which presided over it."] [footnote : cp. armstrong, in _cambridge modern history_, , i, .] [footnote : the constancy of pisa in resisting the yoke of florence, and the repeated self-expatriation of masses of the inhabitants, is hardly intelligible in view of the submission of so many other cities to worse tyrannies. it would seem that the sting lay in the idea that the rule of the rival city was more galling to pride than any one-man tyranny, foreign or other.] [footnote : sismondi, _républiques_, xvi, - , , , , ; _short history_, p. .] [footnote : as to the misery of florence after the siege, see napier, _florentine history_, iv, , .] [footnote : smith, _wealth of nations_, bk. iii, ch. iii. citing sandi.] [footnote : review of mitford, _miscellaneous writings_, ed. , p. .] [footnote : macaulay doubtless proceeded on the history of daru, now known to be seriously erroneous. compare that of w.c. hazlitt, above cited, pref.] [footnote : cp. brown, in _cambridge modern history_, , vol. i, _the renaissance_, p. .] [footnote : cp. armstrong, in _cambridge history_, i, - .] part v the fortunes of the lesser european states chapter i the ideas of nationality and national greatness it lies on the face of the foregoing surveys that the principle which gives mass-form to all politics--to wit, the principle of nationality--makes at once for peace and war, co-operation and enmity. as against the tendency to atomism, the tribal principle supplies cohesion; as against tribalism, the principle of the state plays the same part; and as against oppression the instinct of race or nationality inspires and sustains resistance. but in every aggregate, the force of attraction tends to generate a correlative repulsion to other aggregates, and--save for the counterplay of class repulsions--the fundamental instinct of egoism takes new extensions in pride of family, pride of clan, pride of nation, pride of race. until the successive extensions have all been rectified by the spirit of reciprocity, politics remains so far unmoralised and unrationalised. the nullity of the conception of "race genius" has been forced on us at every meeting with it. no less clear, on a critical analysis, is the irrationality of the instinct of racial pride which underlies that conception, and which is involved in perhaps half of the strifes of tribes, states, and nations. yet perhaps most of the reflections made by historical writers in the way of generalisations of the history of states and peoples are in terms of the fallacy and the irrationality in question. and the instinctive persistence of both reveals itself when we come to reflect on the fortunes of what we usually call the little nations--employing a term which at once sets up a whole series of partial hallucinations. the main distinction between civilised nations being difference of language, there has spontaneously arisen the habit of identifying language with "race," and regarding a dwindling tongue as implying a dwindling people. in the british islands, for instance, the decline in the numbers of the people speaking celtic dialects--the erse, the welsh, and the gaelic--leads many persons, including some of the speakers of those tongues, to regard the "celtic stock" as in course of diminution; and statesmen speak quasi-scientifically of "the celtic fringe" as representing certain political tendencies in particular. yet as soon as we substitute the comparatively real test of name-forms for the non-test of language, we find that the welsh and gaelic-speaking stocks have enormously extended within the english-speaking population, so that "welsh blood" is very much commoner in britain than "saxon," relatively to the proportions between the areas and populations of wales and england, while "highland blood" is relatively predominant in "saxon"-speaking scotland; and "irish blood" is almost similarly abundant even in england, to say nothing of its immense multiplication in the united states. enthusiasm for one's nation as such thus begins on scrutiny to resolve itself into enthusiasm for one's speech; and as our english speech is a near variant of certain others held alien, as dutch and scandinavian and german, with a decisive control from french, enthusiasm for the speech-tie begins, on reflection, to assimilate to the enthusiasm of the district, the glen, the parish. millions of us are at a given moment rapturous about the deeds of our non-ancestors, on the supposition that they were our ancestors, and in terms of a correlative aversion to the deeds of certain other ancients loosely supposed to have been the ancestors of certain of our contemporaries. thus the ostensible entity which plays so large a part in the common run of thought about history--the nation, considered as a continuous and personalised organism--is in large measure a metaphysical dream, and the emotion spent on it partakes much of the nature of superstition. how hard it is for anyone trained in such emotion to transcend it is seen from the form taken by the sympathy which is bestowed by considerate members of a large community on members of a small one. "gallant little wales" is a phrase in english currency; and a contemporary poet, who had actually written pertinently and well in prose on the spurious conception of greatness attached to membership in a large population, has also written in verse a plea for "little peoples" in terms of the assumption of an entity conscious of relative smallness. some of these more sympathetic pictures of the lesser states obscurely recall the anecdote of the little girl who, contemplating a picture of martyrs thrown to the lions, sorrowed for the "poor lion who hadn't any christian." the late sir john seeley, on the other hand, wrote in the more normal anglo-saxon manner that "some countries, such as holland and sweden, might pardonably (_sic_) regard their history as in a manner wound up; ... the only practical lesson of their history is a lesson of resignation."[ ] the unit in a population of three millions is implicitly credited with the consciousness of a dwarf or a cripple facing a gigantic rival when he thinks of the existence of a community of thirty or sixty millions. happily, the unit of the smaller community has no such consciousness;[ ] and, inasmuch as his state is thus intellectually the more gracious, there appears to be some solid psychological basis for the paradox, lately broached by such a one, that "the future lies with the small nations." that is to say, it seems likely that a higher level of general rationality will be attained in the small than in the large populations, in virtue of their escaping one of the most childish and most fostered hallucinations current in the latter. certain patriots of the wilful sort are wont to flout reason in these matters, blustering of "false cosmopolitanism" and "salutary prejudice." to all such rhetoric the fitting answer is the characterisation of it as false passion. those who indulge in it elect wilfully to enfranchise from the mass of detected and convicted animal passions one which specially chimes with their sentiment, as if every other might not be allowed loose with as good reason. matters are truly bad enough without such perverse endorsement of vulgar ideals by those who can see their vulgarity. ordinary observation makes us aware that the most commonplace and contracted minds are most prone to the passion of national and racial pride; whereas the men of antiquity who first seem to have transcended it are thereby marked out once for all as a higher breed. it is in fact the proof of incapacity for any large or deep view of human life to be habitually and zealously "patriotic" in the popular sense of the term. yet, in the civilisations which to-day pass for being most advanced, the majority of the units habitually batten on that quality of feeling, millions of adults for ever living the political life of the schoolboy; and, as no polity can long transcend the ideals of the great mass, national fortunes and institutions thus far tend to be determined by the habit of the lower minds. it is pure paralogism to point to the case of a large backward population without a national-flag idea--for instance, the chinese[ ]--as showing that want of patriotic passion goes with backwardness in culture. there is an infinity of the raw material of patriotism among precisely the most primitive of the chinese population, whose hatred of "foreign devils" is the very warp of "imperialism." the ideal of cosmopolitanism is at the other end of the psychological scale from that of the ignorance which has gone through no political evolution whatever; its very appearance implies past patriotism as a stepping-stone; and its ethic is to that of patriotism what civil law is to club law. if "salutary prejudice" is to be the shibboleth of future civilisation, the due upshot will be the attainment of it one day by the now semi-civilised races, and the drowning out of european patriotisms by mongolian. if a saner lesson is to be widely learned, one way to it, if not the best way, may be an effort on the part of the units of the "great nations" to realise the significance of the fortunes of the "little nations," in terms, not of the imagined consciousness of metaphysical entities, but of actual human conditions--material, passional, and intellectual. we have seen how erudite specialists can express themselves in terms of the fallacy of racial genius. specialists perhaps as erudite, and certainly multitudes of educated people, seem capable of thinking as positively in terms of the hallucinations of racial entity, national consciousness, political greatness, national revenue, and imperial success. thus we have publicists speaking of holland as an "effete nation," of belgium as "doomed to absorption," of the scandinavian peoples as "having failed in the race," and of switzerland as "impotent"; even as they call spain "dying" and turkey "decomposing." nearly every one of those nations, strictly speaking, has a fairer chance of ultimate continuance without decline of wealth and power than england, whose units in general show as little eye for the laws of decline as romans did in the days of augustus. spain has large potentialities of rich agricultural life; turkey needs only new habits to develop her natural resources; the life of belgium, indeed, is, like that of england, in part founded on exhaustible minerals; but switzerland and scandinavia, with their restrained populations, may continue to maintain, as they do, a rather higher _average_ of decent life and popular culture than that of the british islands,[ ] though they, too, have at all times a social problem to deal with. british greatness, on dissection, consists in the aggregation of much greater masses of wealth and much greater masses of poverty, larger groups of idlers and larger swarms of degenerates, with much greater maritime power, than are to be seen in the little nations; certainly not in a higher average of manhood and intelligence and well-being. sir john seeley, in a moment of misgiving, avowed that "bigness is not necessarily greatness"; adding, "if by remaining in the second rank of magnitude we can hold the front rank morally and intellectually, let us sacrifice mere material magnitude."[ ] but he had before used the term "greatness" without reserve as equivalent to "mere material magnitude"; and even in revising his doctrine, it seems, he must needs crave some sort of supremacy, some sense of the inferiority of the mass of mankind. without any such constant reversion to the instinct of racial pride, let us say that "the things that are most excellent" have no dependence on mere material magnitude. given a saner and juster distribution of wealth and culture-machinery, each one of the smaller states may be more civilised, more worth living in, than the larger, even as athens was better worth living in than rome, and goethe's weimar than the berlin of . it was a poet of one of the larger nations--though it had to be a poet--who saw not hardship but happiness in the thought of "leaving great verse unto a little clan." and it was a christian bishop, looking on the break-up of a great empire, who asked, _an congruat bonis latius velle regnare?_--doth it beseem the good to seek to widen their rule?--and gave the judgment that if human things had gone in the happier way of righteousness, all states had remained small, happy in peaceful neighbourhood.[ ] as for the sentiment of a national greatness that is measured by acreage and census and quantity of war material, it is hard to distinguish ethically between it and that individual pride in lands and wealth which all men save those who cherish it are agreed to pronounce odious. even the snobs of nationality have, as a rule, a saving sense which withholds them from flaunting their pride in the eyes of their "poorer" neighbours, the members of the less numerous communities. yet the note which is thus tacitly admitted to be vulgarly jarring for alien ears is habitually struck for domestic satisfaction; few newspapers let many days pass without sounding it; and certain poets and writers of verse appear to find their chief joy in its vibrations. the men of some of the lesser states, then, stand a fair chance of becoming ethically and æsthetically, as well as intellectually, superior in the average to those of the larger aggregates, in that their moral codes are not vitiated nor their literary taste vulgarised by national purse-pride and the vertigo of the higher dunghill; though they, too, have their snares of "patriotism," with its false ideals and its vitiation of true fraternity. to some degree, no doubt, the habit of mind of our megalophiles connects with the vague but common surmise that a small aggregate is more liable to unscrupulous aggression than a large one. if, however, there be any justice in that surmise, there is obviously implied a known disposition in the larger aggregates to commit such aggression; so that to act or rest upon it is simply to prefer being the wronger to being the wronged. thus to glory in being rather on the side of the bully than on the side of the bullied is only to give one more proof of the unworthiness of the instinct at work. all the while, there is no real ground for the hope; and as regards the small nations themselves, the apprehension does not appear to prevail. there has indeed been a recrudescence of the barbaric ethic of the napoleonic period in the bismarckian period; but there is no present sign of a serious fear of national suppression on the part of holland, belgium, switzerland, portugal, and the scandinavian states; while, apart from bismarck's early aggression upon denmark, and the ill-fortune of greece in attacking turkey, it is not small but large aggregates--to wit, austria, france, russia, turkey, spain--that have suffered any degree of military humiliation during the past half century; and it is precisely the large aggregates that avowedly live in the most constant apprehension either of being outnumbered in their armies and navies by single rivals or coalitions, or of losing their "prestige" by some failure to punish a supposed slight. it is a matter of historic fact that the "patriotic" consciousness in england had its withers wrung during a long series of years by the remembrance of such military disasters as the fall of gordon at khartoum, and the defeat of an incompetent general at majuba hill.[ ] no "little nation" could exhibit a more wincing sense of humiliation and disgrace than is thus visibly felt by multitudes of a great aggregate over military repulses at the hands of extremely small and primitive groups. politically speaking, then, the future of the small nations seems rather brighter than that of the large; and thus in the last analysis the pride of the unit of the latter is found to be still a folly. footnotes: [footnote : _the expansion of england_, , p. .] [footnote : this though it be true, as remarked by sismondi (_histoire des républiques italiennes_, ed. , i, , ), that all nations spontaneously desire to be large and powerful, in disregard of all experience.] [footnote : this, it need hardly be repeated, was written before .] [footnote : compare the remarks of freeman, _history of federal government_, nd ed. p. .] [footnote : _expansion of england_, p. . compare the further vacillations in pp. - , , , . in the concluding chapter (p. ) comes the avowal that "we know no reason in the nature of things why a state should be any the better for being large."] [footnote : augustine, _de civitate dei_, iv, .] [footnote : this was written before . the disasters of the south african war confirmed the proposition.] chapter ii the scandinavian peoples § when the early history of scandinavia is studied as a process of social evolution rather than as a chronicle of feuds and of the exploits of heroes of various grades,[ ] it is found to constitute a miniature norm of a simple and instructive sort. taken as it emerges from the stage of myth, about the time of charlemagne, it presents a vivid phase of barbarism, acted on by powerful conditions of change. the three sections of denmark, norway, and sweden stand in a certain natural gradation as regards their possibilities of political development. all alike were capable only of a secondary or tertiary civilisation, being at once geographically disrupted and incapable, on primitive methods, of feeding an abundant population. in their early piratical stage, the scandinavians are not greatly different from the pre-homeric greeks as these were conceived by thucydides; but whereas the greeks came in contact with the relatively high civilisations which had preceded them, the scandinavians of the dark ages had no contacts save with the primitive life of the pre-christian slavs, the premature and arrested cross-civilisations of carlovingian france and anglo-saxon england, and, in a fuller and more fruitful degree, with the similarly arrested semi-christian civilisation of celtic ireland, which latter counted for so much in their literature. but in barbarian conditions certain main laws of social evolution operate no less clearly than in later stages; and we see sections of the norsemen passing from tribal anarchy to primitive monarchy, and thence to military "empire," afterwards returning to their stable economic basis, as every military empire sooner or later must. of the scandinavian sections, denmark and the southern parts of sweden (round the maelar) are the least disrupted and most fertile; and these were respectively the most readily reducible to a single rule. in all, given to begin with the primordial bias to royalism in any of its forms,[ ] the establishment of a supreme and hereditary military rule was only a question of time; every successive attempt, however undone by the forces of barbaric independence, being a lead and stimulus to others. it is important to note how the process was promoted by, and in its turn promoted, the establishment of christianity. the incomplex phenomena in scandinavia throw a new light on the more complex evolution of other parts of christendom. primitive polytheism is obviously unpropitious to monarchic rule; and in every ancient religion it can be seen to have undergone adaptations where such rule arose. in the widely varying systems of homeric greece, babylonia, egypt, and rome, the same tendency is visibly at work in different degrees, the ascendent principle of earthly government being more or less directly duplicated in theological theory. under the roman empire, all cults were in a measure bent to the imperial service, and it was only the primary exclusiveness of christianity that put it in conflict with the state. once the emperor accepted it, recognising its political use, and conceded its exclusive claims, it became a trebly effective political instrument,[ ] centralising as it did the whole machinery of religion throughout the empire, and co-ordinating all to the political system. to use a modern illustration, it "syndicated" the multifold irregular activities of worship, and was thus the ideal system for a centralised and imperial state.[ ] this was as readily seen by theodoric and charlemagne as by the rulers at constantinople; and to such a perception, broadly speaking, is to be attributed the forcing of christianity on the northern races by their kings. compare the explicit admissions of mosheim, _eccles. hist._ cent., pt. ii, ch. ii, § and note, following on the testimony of william of malmesbury as to charlemagne. other ecclesiastical historians coincide. "numbers of the earliest and most active converts, both in germany and england, were connected with the royal households; and in this way it would naturally occur that measures which related to the organising of the church would emanate directly from the king.... it is indeed remarkable that so long as kings were esteemed the real patrons of the church, she felt no wish to define exactly her relations to the civil power; the two authorities ... _laboured to enforce obedience to each other_" (hardwick, _church history: middle age_, , pp. - ). the same historian (p. ) describes the wends of the eleventh century as seeing in the missionary a means for their subjection to germany, and as "constantly attempting to regain their independence and extinguish the few glimmerings of truth that had been forced into their minds." northern paganism, more than the semi-cosmopolitan polytheism of the south in the period of augustus, was a local and domestic faith, lending itself to separateness and independence, as did the civic and family religions of early greece and rome. while there were communal assemblies with specially solemn sacrifices, the popular beliefs were such that every district could have its holy places, and every family or group its special rites;[ ] and in primitive scandinavia a priesthood could still less develop than even in primitive germany, whose lack of any system corresponding to the druidism of gaul is still empirically ascribed to some anti-sacerdotal element in the "national character," whereas it is plainly a result of the nomadic life-conditions of the scattered people. in germ the teutonic priesthood was extremely powerful, being the judiciary power from which there was no appeal.[ ] but an organised priestly system can arise only on the basis of some measure of political levelling or centralisation, involving some peaceful inter-communication. romanised christianity, coming ready-made from its centre, permitted of no worship save that of the consecrated church, and no ministry save that of the ordained priest.[ ] only the most obstinately conservative kings or chieftains, therefore, could fail to see their immediate advantage in adopting it.[ ] naturally the early christian records gloss the facts. thus it is told in the life of anskar (ancharius) that "the swedes" sent messengers to the emperor ludovic the pious (_circa_ ) telling that "many" of them "longed to embrace the christian faith"--a story for which the only possible basis would be the longings and perhaps the propaganda of christian captives of some western european nationality. (cp. hardwick, _church history: middle age_, , p. , _notes_, and p. .) still it is admitted that the king was avowedly willing to listen; and the tale of the first acceptance of christianity in sweden, even if true in detail, would plainly point to a carefully rehearsed plan under the king's supervision. the admission that afterwards there was a return to heathenism for nearly a century consists entirely with the view that the first tentative was one of kingly policy. see geijer, c. iii, pp. , . it was the people who drove out the missionaries; and hardwick's statement that after seven years anskar "was able to regain his hold on the affections of the swedes" is confuted by his own narrative. all that anskar obtained was a toleration of his mission; and this was given after a trial by lots, on heathen principles (hardwick, pp. , ; cp. p. ). the account in crichton and wheaton's _scandinavia_, , i, , brings the king's initiative into prominence. (cp. otté, _scandinavian history_, , p. .) they also note that charlemagne, in treating with the danes, "did not attempt to impose his religion" upon them; but they do not glimpse the true explanation, which is that he could gain nothing by helping to organise a hostile kingdom. in point of fact he refused to let lindger pursue his purpose of converting the northmen. (hardwick, p. , _note _, citing _vit. s. lindger_.) he had not developed the devotion or the subservience to the church which in later ages led emperors to force the acceptance of christianity on a defeated state that remained otherwise independent. when in a later age christianity was definitely established in sweden under olaf the lap (or tribute) king (_circa_ ), whose father erik is said to have been murdered in a tumult for his destruction of a pagan temple, the process was again strictly monarchic, the diet resisting; but olaf's substantial success was such as to permit of his annexing gothland, temporarily conquering norway, and styling himself king of all sweden; and his son, anund jakob, continuing the profitable policy, earned the title of most christian majesty (crichton and wheaton, i, ; geijer, p. ). even after this the attempt of a bishop ( ) to destroy the old temple at upsala, resisted by the christian king stenkil, but supported by his rasher son inge, caused the expulsion of the latter by the pagan party under svend. only after inge's restoration by danish help ( ) was the heathen worship suppressed (hardwick, p. ). as regards denmark, the historians incidentally make it clear that harald klak, usurping king of jutland (_circa_ ), wanted to christianise his turbulent subjects in order to subordinate them, having learned the wisdom of the policy from louis the pious; and it is no less clear that the same motive swayed erik i, who, after having in his days of piratical adventure, as usurper of the jute crown, destroyed the christian settlement of charlemagne at hamburg, entirely changed his attitude and favoured christianity when, on the death of king horda-knut, he became king of all denmark (crichton and wheaton, pp. - ). so plain was the political tendency of the new creed that after the christianisation of denmark by erik i the nobility forced erik ii to restore the pagan system; but the triumph of the church, like that of monarchy, was only a question of time. even kings who, being caught late in life, did not renounce their paganism, are found ready to favour the missionaries; and in denmark such tolerance on the part of gorm the old (d. ), successor of erik ii, is followed by the official christianity of his son harald bluetooth. danish "empire" duly follows; and in the next century we find knut the great ( - ) utterly reversing[ ] the pagan policy of his father, svend[ ] (who had been enabled to dethrone _his_ christian father, harald, by the pagan malcontents), and dying in the odour of sanctity, "lord" of six kingdoms--denmark, sweden, norway, england, scotland, and wales. the principle is established from another side in the case of norway. there the first notable monarchic unification had been wrought by the pagan harold fairhair ( ), without the aid of christianity; and the pagan resistance was so irreducible that revolters sailed off in all directions, finding footing in scotland and ireland, and in particular in northern france and iceland.[ ] in the next generation the monarchy relapsed to the old position; and harold's christian son hakon (educated in england) had to cede to the determined demands of the pagan majority, who forced him to join in the old heathen rites, and murdered the leading christians;[ ] a course followed by the further weakening of the power of the crown. the danish harald bluetooth, son of gorm, who then conquered norway, sought to re-establish the church by the sword; but hakon jarl, who followed, gave up christianity in order to reign and again put it down by violence.[ ] the next king to restore it, olaf tryggvason, who had met with christianity in his wanderings in greece, russia, england, and germany,[ ] established that creed by brute force when he attained the throne ( ), and again the spirit of local independence, abnormally conserved in norway by the special separateness set up by the geographical conditions, fiercely resisted the new system as it had done the rule of harold fairhair, many defeated pagans withdrawing to remote glens and fastnesses, where to this day their mythology thrives.[ ] on olaf's final defeat and death ( ), his immediate successors, jarls supported by denmark and sweden, were content to leave paganism alone, as representing a too dangerous spirit of independence; and when st. olaf, in turn, again undertook to crush it, he found he had but beaten down and alienated the forces that would have enabled him to resist knut.[ ] danish "imperialism" had been evolved while the norwegian kings were striving towards it; and st. olaf was exiled, defeated, and slain ( ). his subsequent popularity is a mere posthumous church-made cult of the christian period. the spread of christianity among the franks; in england; in saxony by charlemagne; in north germany later; and among the wends, poles, hungarians, and bohemians, constantly exhibits the same phenomena. always it is the duke or king who is "converted"; whereupon the people are either baptised in mass or dragooned for generations. a powerful king like clovis could secure obedience; others, as in scandinavia, bohemia, and wendland, lost life and kingdom in the attempt to crush at once paganism and local independence. prussia was almost depopulated by sixty years of war before the order of teutonic knights, who undertook to convert it on being awarded the territory, could extinguish by savagery its staunch paganism. the christianisation of almost the whole of northern europe was thus a purely political process, accomplished in great part by the sword. see hardwick, _passim_, and cp. the author's _short history of christianity_, pp. - . § the ultimate arrest of all aggression by the scandinavian peoples is to be explained as a simple redressing of the balance between them and the states they had formerly plundered. to begin with, all the scandinavian groups alike practised piracy[ ] as against the more civilised states of northern europe; and piracy showed them the way to conquest and colonisation. at home their means of subsistence were pasturage, fishing, the chase, and an agriculture which cannot have been easily extensible beyond the most fertile soils; hence a constant pressure of population, promoting piracy and aggressive emigration. how the pressure was purposively met is not clear; but as the scandinavian father, like the greek and roman, was free either to expose or bring up a new-born child,[ ] there is a presumption that at some periods exposure was not uncommon.[ ] there is even testimony, going back to the eighth century and recurring frequently as late as the twelfth, to the effect that a certain number of men were periodically sent away by lot when the mouths had visibly multiplied beyond the meat. see, for instance, the _roman de rou_ ( ), ed. andresen, - , i, , , verses - of prologue. pluquet, in a note on the passage in his edition ( , i, ), remarking that the usage is often mentioned, not only by norman but by english and french annalists of the middle ages, adds that the oldest mention of all, in the _tractatus_ of abbot odo (d. ), must be rejected, the document being apocryphal. that, however, is not the oldest mention by a long way. paulus diaconus ( - ) gives the statement in a very circumstantial form (cited by rydberg, _teutonic mythology_, eng. tr. p. ) in his history of the longobardians, his own stock, who he says came from scandinavia. he testifies that he had actually talked with persons who had been in scandinavia--his descriptions pointing to scania. m. pluquet notes (so also crichton and wheaton, i, - ) that no northern saga mentions the usage in question. but it was likely to be commemorated only by the stocks forced in that fashion to emigrate. the saga-making icelanders were not among these. the old statement, finally, is in some measure corroborated by the testimony of geijer, p. , as to the long subsistence of the swedish practice of sending forth sons to seek their fortune by sea. but without any such organised exodus there were adventurers enough.[ ] hence colonisations and conquests in scotland, the hebrides, ireland, iceland, russia, england, and remote plundering expeditions by land and river, some getting as far south as italy; one conquering expedition passing from gaul through arab spain ( ) and along the mediterranean coasts, north and south; another passing through russia to constantinople. thus the norwegian and danish stocks must have rooted in nearly every part of the british islands; and the settlement in gaul of a colony of revolters from norway, in the reign of harold fairhair, built up one of the great provinces of france. only in iceland did the colonists preserve their language; hence, in terms of the hallucination of race, the assumption that the others "failed," when in reality they helped to constitute new races; no more "failing" in these cases than did the british stock in its north american colonies. it may be said, indeed, that the teutonic stocks which overran italy, spain, and north africa did in large part physically disappear thence, their physiological type having failed to survive as against the southern types. even on that view, however, the impermanent type must in some degree have affected that which survived. in any case, the amalgamated norse stock in normandy, grown french-speaking, in turn overran england and part of italy and sicily, and, in the crusades, formed new kingdoms in the east; while in the case of england, turning english-speaking, they again modified the stock of the nation. as against the notion that in this case there was "failure" either for french or for normans, we might almost adopt the _mot_ of m. clémenceau and call england "a french colony gone wrong."[ ] in terms of realities there has been no racial decease; it is but names and languages that have changed with the generations. but there was an arrest of military exodus from scandinavia; and thenceforward the norse-speaking stocks figure as more or less small and retiring communities. they gave up piracy and conquest only because they had to, danish imperialism causing the arrest on a wide scale, as every monarchic unification had done on a small.[ ] when knut reigned over six kingdoms, piracy was necessarily checked as among these; and when knut's empire broke up after his death through the repulsive powers of its component parts and the relative lack of resources in denmark, the various states of north-western europe, in the terms of the case, were more able than before to resist norse attacks in general. in england, william the conqueror was fain to keep them off by bribery and intrigue; but the states with the greater natural resources grew in strength, while those of scandinavia could not. when the pirates began to get the worst of it, and when the scandinavian kings had cause to dread reprisals from those of the west, piracy began to dwindle. the last regular practitioners were the pagan wends, and the republican pagans of the city of jomsborg, who plundered the scandinavians as they had of yore plundered others; and after the christianised danish people had for a time defended themselves by voluntary associations, both sets of pirates were overthrown by an energetic danish king. the suppression was under christian auspices; but it is a conventional fallacy to attribute it to the influence of christianity. it was simply an act of necessary progressive polity, like the suppression of the cilician pirates by pompeius. messrs. crichton and wheaton make the regulation statement that when christianity was introduced into scandinavia, "it corrected the abuses of an ill-regulated freedom; it banished vindictive quarrels and bloody dissensions; it put a restraint upon robberies and piracies; it humanised the public laws and softened the ferocity of public manners; it emancipated the peasantry from a miserable servitude, restored to them their natural rights, and created a relish for the blessings of peace and the comforts of life" (_scandinavia_, i, ). for the general and decisive disproof of these assertions it is necessary only to follow messrs. crichton and wheaton's own narrative, pp. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , etc., and note their contrary generalisation at pp. , . it was his "most christian majesty" anund jakob who got the nickname of coal-burner for his law that the houses and effects of malefactors should be burned to the value of the harm they had done. the swedes, polygamous before christianity, continued to be so for generations as christians (crichton and wheaton, i, , , citing adam of bremen. cp. grimm, _geschichte der deutschen sprache_, i, , .) civil wars and ferocious feuds greatly multiplied in the early christian period, apart altogether from pagan insurrections. geijer, while erroneously attributing to christianity the lessening of war between scandinavia and the rest of the world, admits that the passions of strife, "hitherto turned in an external direction, now spent themselves in a domestic field of action, generating civil discord and war. christianity, besides, dissolved the effective bond of the old social institutions" (p. ). in that case it clearly cannot have been religious feeling that checked external war. as to piracy, that was later practised by elizabethan protestants and by the huguenots of la rochelle, when the opportunities were tempting. as to popular misery, it is told in the life of anskar that the poor in ancient sweden wore so few that the first christians could find a use for their alms only in foreign countries (geijer, p. ). that difficulty has not prevailed since. messrs. crichton and wheaton later admit that the danish peasantry, free as pagans, "gradually sunk under the increasing power and influence of the feudal chiefs and the romish hierarchy" (p. ), and that the crusades did not forward the emancipation of the serfs in denmark as elsewhere, the peasantry on the contrary sinking into "a state of hopeless bondage" (pp. , ). § from the period of arrest of aggression, the economic and political history of the scandinavian states is that of slightly expansible communities with comparatively small resources; and their high status to-day is the illustration of what civilisation may come to under such conditions. in the feudal period they made small material or intellectual progress. it is not probable that the norse population was ever greater than in the eighteenth century, though malthus had a surmise that it might anciently have been so:[ ] the old belief that scandinavia was the great _officina gentium_, the nursery of the races which overran the roman empire, is a delusion; but it is certain that the increase since the twelfth century has been even slower than the european average. in the absence of emigration, this meant for past centuries constant restraint of marriage through lack of houses and livelihoods--the preventive check in its most stringent form. emigration there must have been; but the check must also have been strong. thus, while the lot of the common people, in so far as it remained free, was likely to be comparatively comfortable, the land-owning classes, in the absence of industry and commerce, tended to become nearly all-powerful; and the church, which inherits and does not squander, would engross most of the power if not specially checked. the conditions were thus as unfavourable to intellectual as to material progress. denmark was the first of the scandinavian states to develop a considerable commerce, beginning as did holland on the footing of the fishery;[ ] and on that basis there was a certain renewal of danish empire. but this again could not hold out against the neighbouring forces; and in the thirteenth century, the herring fishery in the baltic failing, it had to yield its hold on the mainland cities of hamburg and lübeck, which began a new career of commercial power as the nucleus of the great trading federation of the hansa cities, while denmark itself was riven by the struggles of six claimants of the throne. the result was a "feudal and sacerdotal oligarchy,"[ ] leading to an era of "the complete triumph of the romish clergy over the temporal power in denmark," in which the peasantry were reduced to absolute predial slavery.[ ] similar evolution took place in norway,[ ] though with less depression of the peasantry,[ ] by reason of the small scope there for capitalistic agriculture; and there too the now nascent commerce was appropriated by the hansa.[ ] in sweden, where industry remained so primitive that down till the sixteenth century there was hardly any attempt to work up the native iron,[ ] germans greatly predominated in the cities and controlled trade,[ ] even before the accession of albert of mecklenburg ( ), who further depressed the native nobility in the german interest.[ ] on the other hand, the clergy were less plenipotent than in the sister kingdoms, the people having retained more of their old power. cp. schweitzer, _geschichte der skandinavischen literatur_, i, . the swedish peasantry, like the norwegian, were less easy to enslave than the danish by reason of the natural conditions; those of the remote mountain and mining districts in particular retaining their independence (crichton and wheaton, i, , ; geijer, pp. , , , , ), so that they ultimately enabled gustavus vasa to throw off the danish yoke. yet they had at first refused to recognise him, being satisfied with their own liberties; and afterwards they gave him much serious trouble (otté, _scandinavian history_, , pp. , ; geijer, pp. , , , , , - ). slavery, too, was definitely abolished in sweden as early as (geijer, pp. , ; crichton and wheaton, i, , ). as regards the regal power, the once dominant theory that the swedish kings in the thirteenth century obtained a grant of all the mines, and of the province of the four great lakes (crichton and wheaton, i, ), appears to be an entire delusion (geijer, pp. , ). such claims were first enforced by gustavus vasa (_id._ p. ). as regards the clergy, they appear from the first, _quâ_ churchmen, to have been kept in check by the nobles, who kept the great church offices largely in the hands of their own order (geijer, p. ), though magnus ladulas strove to strengthen the church in his own interest (_id._ pp. - ). thus the nobles became specially powerful (_id._ pp. , , ); and when in the fifteenth century sweden was subject to denmark, they specially resented the sacerdotal tyranny (crichton and wheaton, i, ). in sweden, as in the other scandinavian states, however, physical strife and mental stagnation were the ruling conditions. down till the sixteenth century her history is pronounced "a wretched detail of civil wars, insurrections, and revolutions, arising principally from the jealousies subsisting between the kings and the people, the one striving to augment their power, the other to maintain their independence."[ ] the same may be said of the sister kingdoms, all alike being torn and drained by innumerable strifes of faction and wars with each other. the occasional forcible and dynastic unions of crowns came to nothing; and the union of calmar ( ), an attempt to confederate the three kingdoms under one crown, repeatedly collapsed. the marvel is that in such an age even the attempt was made. the remarkable woman who planned and first effected it, queen margaret of norway, appealed in the first instance with heavy bribes for the co-operation of the clergy,[ ] who, especially in sweden, where they preferred the danish rule to the domination of the nobles,[ ] were always in favour of it for ecclesiastical reasons. had such a union permanently succeeded, it would have eliminated a serious source of positive political evil; but to carry forward scandinavian civilisation under the drawbacks of the medieval difficulty of inter-communication (involving lack of necessary culture-contacts), the natural poverty of the soil, and the restrictive pressure of the catholic church, would have been a task beyond the power of a monarchy comprising three mutually jealous sections. as it was, the old strifes recurred almost as frequently as before, and moral union was never developed. if historical evidence is to count for anything, the experience of the scandinavian stocks should suffice to discredit once for all the persistent pretence that the "teutonic races" have a faculty for union denied to the celtic, inasmuch as they, apparently the most purely teutonic of all, were even more irreconcilable, less fusible, than the anglo-saxons before the norman conquest and the germans down till our own day, and much more mutually jealous than the quasi-teutonic provinces of the netherlands, which, after the severance of belgium, have latterly lost their extreme repulsions, while those of scandinavia are not yet dead.[ ] the explanation, of course, is not racial in any case; but it is for those who affirm that capacity for union is a teutonic gift to find a racial excuse. with the reformation, though that was nowhere more clearly than in scandinavia a revolution of plunder, there began a new progress, in respect not of any friendliness of the lutheran system to thought and culture, but of the sheer break-up of the intellectual ice of the old regimen. in denmark the process is curiously instructive. christian ii, personally a capable and reformative but cruel tyrant, aimed throughout his life at reducing the power alike of the clergy and the nobles, and to that end sought on the one hand to abolish serfdom and educate the poor and the burghers,[ ] and on the other to introduce lutheranism ( ). from the latter attempt he was induced to desist, doubtless surmising that the remedy might for him be a new disease: but on his enforcing the reform of slavery he was rebelled against and forced to fly by the nobility, who thereupon oppressed the people more than ever.[ ] his uncle and successor, frederick of schleswig-holstein, accepted the mandate of the nobles to the extent of causing to be publicly burned in his presence all the laws of the last reign in favour of the peasants, closing the poor schools throughout the kingdom, burning the new books,[ ] and pledging himself to expel lutheranism. he seems, however, to have been secretly a protestant, and to have evaded his pledge; and the rapid spread of the new heresy, especially in the cities, brought about a new birth of popular literature in the vernacular, despite the suppression of the schools.[ ] in a few years' time, frederick, recognising the obvious interest of the crown, and finding the greater nobles in alliance with the clergy, made common cause with the smaller nobility, and so was able ( ) to force on the prelates, who could hope for no better terms from the exiled king, the toleration of protestantism, the permission of marriage to the clergy, and a surrender of a moiety of the tithes.[ ] a few years later ( ) the monasteries were either stormed by the populace or abandoned by the monks, their houses and lands being divided among the municipalities, the king and his courtiers, and the secular clergy.[ ] after a stormy interregnum, in which the catholic party made a strenuous reaction, the next king, christian iii, taking the nobles and commons-deputies into partnership, made with their help an end of the catholic system; the remaining lands, castles, and manors of the prelates going to the crown, and the tithes being parcelled among the landowners, the king, and the clergy. naturally a large part of the lands, as before, was divided among the nobles,[ ] who were in this way converted to protestantism. thus whereas heathen kings had originally embraced christianity to enable them to consolidate their power, christian kings embraced protestantism to enable them to recover wealth and power from the catholic church. creed all along followed interest;[ ] and the people had small concern in the change.[ ] norway, being under the same crown, followed the course of denmark. in sweden the powerful gustavus vasa saw himself forced at the outset of his reign to take power and wealth from the church if he would have any of his own; and after the dramatic scene in the diet of westeras ( ), in which he broke out with a passionate vow to renounce the crown if he were not better supported,[ ] he carried his point. the nobles, being "squared"[ ] by permission to resume such of their ancestral lands as had been given to churches and convents since , and by promise of further grants, forced the bishops to consent to surrender to the king their castles and strongholds, and to let him fix their revenues; all which was duly done. the monasteries were soon despoiled of nearly all their lands, many of which were seized by or granted in fief to the barons;[ ] and the king became head of the church in as full a degree as henry viii in england;[ ] sagaciously, and in part unscrupulously, creating for the first time in scandinavia a strong yet not wholly despotic monarchy, with such revenues from many sources[ ] as made possible the military power and activity of gustavus adolphus, and later the effort of charles xii to create an "empire"--an effort which, necessarily failing, reduced sweden permanently to her true economic basis. apart from those remarkable episodes, the development of the scandinavian states since the sixteenth century has been, on their relatively small scale, that of the normal monarchic community with a variously vigorous democratic element; shaken frequently by civil strife; wasting much strength in insensate wars; losing much through bad kings and gaining somewhat from the good; passing painfully from bigotry to tolerance; getting rid of their old aristocracies and developing new; exhibiting in the mass the northern vice of alcoholism, yet maintaining racial vigour; disproportionately taxing their producers as compared with their non-producers; aiming, nevertheless, at industry and commerce, and suffering from the divisive social influences they entail; meddling in international strifes, till latterly the surrounding powers preponderated too heavily; disunited and normally jealous of each other, even when dynastically united, through stress of crude patriotic prejudice and lack of political science; frequently retrograding, yet in the end steadily progressing in such science as well as in general culture and well-being. losses of territory--as finland and schleswig-holstein--at the hands of stronger rivals, and the violent experiences and transitions of the napoleonic period, have left them on a relatively stable and safe basis, albeit still mutually jealous and unable to pass beyond the normal monarchic stage. to-day their culture is that of all the higher civilisations, as are their social problems. § in the history of scandinavian culture, however, lie some special illustrations of sociological law. the remarkable fact that the first great development of old norse literature occurred in the poor and remote colonial settlement of iceland is significant of much. to the retrospective yearning of an exiled people, the desire to preserve every memory of the old life in the fatherland, is to be attributed the grounding of the saga-cult in iceland; and the natural conditions, enforcing long spells of winter leisure, greatly furthered the movement. but the finest growth of the new literature, it turns out, is due to culture-contacts--an unexpected confirmation, in a most unlikely quarter, of a general principle arrived at on other data. the vigilant study of our own day has detected, standing out from the early icelandic literature, "a group of poems which possess the very qualities of high imagination, deep pathos, fresh love of nature, passionate dramatic power, and noble simplicity of language, which [other] icelandic poetry lacks. the solution is that these poems do not belong to iceland at all. they are the poetry of the 'western islands'"[ ]--that is, the poetry of the meeting and mixing of the "celtic" and scandinavian stocks in ireland and the hebrides--the former already much mixed, and proportionally rich in intellectual variations. it was in this area that "a magnificent school of poetry arose, to which we owe works that for power and beauty can be paralleled in no teutonic language till centuries after their date.... this school, which is totally distinct from the icelandic, ran its own course apart and perished before the thirteenth century."[ ] compare messrs. vigfusson and powell's _corpus poeticum boreale_, , vol. i, introd. pp. lxii, lxiii; and, as regards the old irish civilisation, the author's _saxon and celt_, pp. , , - . the theory of celtic influence, though established in its essentials, is not perfectly consistent as set forth in the _britannica_ article. thus, while the celticised literature is remarked for "noble simplicity of language," the true icelandic, primarily like the old english, is said to develop a "complexity of structure and ornament, an elaborate mythological and enigmatical phraseology, and a regularity of rhyme, assonance, luxuriance, quantity, and syllabification which it caught up from the latin and _celtic_ poets." further, while the celticised school is described as "totally distinct from the icelandic," celtic influence is also specified as affecting norse literature in general. the first generations of icelandic poets were men of good birth, "nearly always, too, of celtic blood on one side at least"; and they went to norway or denmark, where they lived as kings' or chiefs' henchmen. the immigration of norse settlers from ireland, too, affected the iceland stock very early. "it is to the west that the best sagas belong: it is to the west that nearly every classic writer whose name we know belongs; and it is precisely in the west that the admixture of irish blood is greatest" (_ib._). the facts seem decisive, and the statements above cited appear the more clearly to need modification. it is to be noted that schweitzer's _geschichte der skandinavischen literatur_ gives no hint of the celtic influence. but the icelandic civilisation as a whole could not indefinitely progress on its own basis any more than the irish. beyond a certain point both needed new light and leading; for the primeval spirit of strife never spontaneously weakened; the original icelandic stock being, to begin with, a selection of revolters from over-rule. so continual domestic feuds checked mental evolution in iceland as in old scandinavia; and the reduction of the island to norwegian rule in the thirteenth century could not do more for it than monarchy was doing for norway. mere christianity without progressive conditions of culture availed less for imaginative art than free paganism had done; and when higher culture-contacts became possible, the extreme poverty of iceland tended more than ever to send the enterprising people where the culture and comfort were. it is in fact not a possible seat for a relatively flourishing civilisation in the period of peaceful development. the reformation seems there to have availed for very little indeed. it was vehemently resisted,[ ] but carried by the preponderant acquisitive forces: "nearly all who took part in it were men of low type, moved by personal motives rather than religious zeal."[ ] "the glebes and hospital lands were a fresh power in the hands of the crown, and the subservient lutheran clergy became the most powerful class in the island; while the bad system of underleasing at rack-rent and short lease with unsecured tenant-right extended in this way over at least a quarter of the better land, stopping any possible progress." for the rest, "the reformation had produced a real poet [hallgrim petersen], but the material rise of iceland"--that is, the recent improvements in the condition of the people--"has not yet done so,"[ ] though poetry is still cultivated in iceland very much as music is elsewhere. thus this one little community may be said to have reached the limits of its evolution, as compared with others, simply because of the strait natural conditions in which its lot was cast. but to think of it as a tragically moribund organism is merely to proceed upon the old hallucinations of race-consciousness. men reared in iceland have done their part in making european civilisation, entering the more southerly scandinavian stocks as these entered the stocks of western europe; and the present population, who are a remnant, have no more cause to hang their heads than any family that happens to have few members or to have missed wealth. failure is relative only to pretension or purpose. the modern revival of scandinavian culture, as must needs be, is the outcome of all the european influences. at the close of the sixteenth century, in more or less friendly intercourse with the other protestant countries of north europe, denmark began effectively to develop a literature such as theirs, imaginative and scientific, in the vernacular as well as in latin; and so the development went on while sweden was gaining military glory with little enlightenment. then a rash attack upon sweden ended in a loss of some of the richest danish provinces ( ); whereafter a sudden parliamentary revolution, wrought by a league of king and people against the aristocracy, created not a constitutional but an absolute and hereditary monarchy ( ), enthroning divine right at the same instant in denmark and norway as in england. thereafter, deprived of their old posts and subjected to ruinous taxes, the nobility fell rapidly into poverty;[ ] and the merchant class, equally overtaxed, withdrew their capital; the peasantry all the while remaining in a state of serfdom.[ ] then came a new series of wars with sweden, recurring through generations, arresting, it is said, literature, law, philosophy, and medicine,[ ] but not the natural sciences, then so much in evidence elsewhere: tycho brahe being followed in astronomy by horrebow, while chemistry, mathematics, and even anatomy made progress. but to this period belongs the brilliant dramatist and historian holberg, the first great man of letters in modern scandinavia (d. ); and in the latter half of the eighteenth century the two years of ascendency of the freethinking physician struensee as queen's favourite ( - ) served partially to emancipate the peasants, establish religious toleration, abolish torture, and reform the administration. nor did his speedy overthrow and execution wholly undo his main work,[ ] which outdid that of many generations of the old régime. still, the history of his rise and fall, his vehement speed of reconstruction and the ruinous resistance it set up, is one of the most dramatic of the many warnings of history against thinking suddenly to elevate a nation by reforms imposed wholly from without.[ ] thenceforward, with such fluctuations as mark all culture-history, the scandinavian world has progressed mentally nearly step for step with the rest of europe, producing scholars, historians, men of science, artists, and imaginative writers in more than due proportion. many names which stand for solid achievement in the little-read scandinavian tongues are unknown save to specialists elsewhere; but those of holberg, linnæus, malte-brun, rask, niebuhr, madvig, oehlenschläger, thorwaldsen, and swedenborg tell of a comprehensive influence on the thought and culture of europe during a hundred years in which europe was being reborn; and in our own day some of the greatest imaginative literature of the modern world comes from norway, long the most backward of the group. ibsen, one of a notable company of masters, stood at the head of the drama of the nineteenth century; and the society which sustained him, however he may have satirised it, is certificated abreast of its age. § in one aspect the scandinavian polities have a special lesson for the larger nations. they have perforce been specially exercised latterly, as of old, by the problem of population; and in norway there was formerly made one of the notable, if not one of the best, approaches to a practical solution of it. malthus long ago[ ] noted the norwegian marriage-rate as the lowest in europe save that of switzerland; and he expressed the belief that in his day norway was "almost the only country in europe where a traveller will hear any apprehension expressed of a redundant population, and where the danger to the happiness of the lower classes of people is in some degree seen and understood."[ ] this state of things having long subsisted, there is a presumption that it persists uninterruptedly from pagan times, when, as we have seen, there existed a deliberate population-policy; for christian habits of mind can nowhere be seen to have set up such a tendency, and it would be hard to show in the history of norway any great political change which might effect a rapid revolution in the domestic habits of the peasantry, such as occurred in france after the revolution. broadly speaking, the mass of the norwegian people had till the last century continued to live under those external or domiciliary restraints on multiplication which were normal in rural europe in the middle ages, and which elsewhere have been removed by industrialism; yet without suffering latterly from a continuance of the severer medieval destructive checks. they must, therefore, have put a high degree of restraint on marriage, and probably observed parental prudence in addition. when it is found that in sweden, where the conditions and usages were once similar, there was latterly at once less prudential restraint on marriage and population, and a lower standard of material well-being, the two cases are seen to furnish a kind of _experimentum crucis_. the comparatively late maintenance of a powerful military system in sweden having there prolonged the methods of aristocratic and bureaucratic control while they were being modified in denmark-norway, swedish population in the eighteenth century was subject to artificial stimulus. from about the year , the government set itself, on the ordinary empirical principle of militarism, to encourage population.[ ] among its measures were the variously wise ones of establishing medical colleges and lying-in and foundling hospitals, the absolute freeing of the internal trade in grain, and the withdrawal in of an old law limiting the number of persons allowed to each farm. the purpose of that law had been to stimulate population by spreading tillage; but the spare soil being too unattractive, the young people emigrated. on the law being abolished, population did increase considerably, rising between and from , , to , , ,[ ] though some severe famines had occurred within the period. but in the year , when malthus visited the country, the increased population suffered from famine very severely indeed, living mainly and miserably on bark bread.[ ] it was one of malthus's great object-lessons in his science. on one side a poor country was artificially over-populated; on the other, the people of norway, an even poorer country, directly and indirectly[ ] restrained their rate of increase, while the government during a long period wrought to the same end by the adjustment of its military system and by making a certificate of earning power or income necessary for all marriages.[ ] the result was that, save in the fishing districts, where speculative conditions encouraged early marriages and large families, the norwegian population were better off than the swedish.[ ] already in malthus' youth the norwegian-danish policy had been altered, all legal and military restrictions on marriage having been withdrawn; and he notes that fears were expressed as to the probable results. it is one of his shortcomings to have entirely abstained from subsequent investigation of the subject; and in his late addendum as to the state of sweden in he further fails to note that as a result of a creation there after of , new farms from land formerly waste, the country ceased to need to import corn and was able to export a surplus.[ ] it still held good, however, that the norwegian population, being from persistence of prudential habit[ ] much the slower in its rate of increase, had the higher standard of comfort, despite much spread of education in sweden. within the past half-century the general development of commerce and of industry has tended broadly to equalise the condition of the scandinavian peoples. as late as a scarcity would suffice to drive the norwegian peasantry to the old subsistence of bark bread, a ruinous resort, seeing that it destroyed multitudes of trees of which the value, could the timber have found a market, would have far exceeded that of a quantity of flour yielding much more and better food. at that period the british market was closed by duties imposed in the interest of the canadian timber trade.[ ] since the establishment of british free trade, norwegian timber has become a new source of wealth; and through this and other and earlier commercial developments prudential family habits were affected. thus, whereas the population of sweden had all but doubled between and , the population of norway had grown even faster.[ ] and whereas in the proportion of illegitimate to legitimate births in stockholm was to . [ ] (one of the results of foundling hospitals, apparently), in the total swedish rate was slightly below to , while in norway it was to . the modern facilities for emigration have further affected conjugal habits. latterly, however, there are evidences of a new growth of intelligent control. in recent years the statistics of emigration and population tell a fairly plain story. in norway and sweden alike the excess of births over deaths reached nearly its highest in , the figures being , for sweden and , for norway. in , however, emigration was about its maximum in both countries, , leaving sweden and , leaving norway. thereafter the birth-rate rapidly fell, and the emigration, though fluctuating, has never again risen in sweden to the volume of - , though it has in norway. but when, after falling to , in , the excess of swedish births over deaths rises to , in , while the emigration falls from , in to , in , it is clear that the lesson of regulation is still very imperfectly learned. norway shows the same fluctuations, the excess of births rising from , in to nearly , in , and again from , in to , in , doubtless because of ups and downs in the harvests, as shown in the increase of marriages from , in to , in . in denmark the progression has been similar. there the excess of births over deaths was so far at its maximum in , the figures being , in a population of a little over , , ; whereafter they slowly decreased, till in the excess was only , . all the while emigration was active, gradually rising from , in to , in ; then again falling to , in , when the surplus of births over deaths was , --a development sure to force more emigration. in the population was , , --a rapid rise; and in the surplus of births over deaths was , . the scandinavians are thus still in the unstable progressive stage of popular well-being, though probably suffering less from it than either germany or england. here, then, is a group of kindred peoples apparently at least as capable of reaching a solution of the social problem as any other, and visibly prospering materially and morally in proportion as they bring reason to bear on the vital lines of conduct, though still in the stage of curing over-population by emigration. given continued peaceful political evolution in the direction first of democratic federation, and further of socialisation of wealth, they may reach and keep the front rank in civilisation, while the more unmanageably large communities face risks of dire vicissitude. footnotes: [footnote : as in carlyle's _early kings of norway_, the _caput mortuum_ of his historical method. much more instructive works on scandinavian history are available to the english reader. the two volumes on _scandinavia_ by crichton and wheaton ( ) are not yet superseded, though savouring strongly of the conservatism of their period. dunham, who rapidly produced, for gardner's cabinet cyclopædia series, histories of _spain and portugal_ ( vols.), _europe during the middle ages_ ( vols.), and the _germanic empire_ ( vols.), compiled also one of _denmark, sweden, and norway_ ( vols. - ), of inferior quality. but geijer's _history of sweden_, one of the standard modern national histories of europe, is translated into english as far as the period of gustavus vasa ( vols. of orig. in one of trans. ); and the competent _history of denmark_ by c.-f. allen is available in a french translation (copenhagen, tom. ). otté's _scandinavian history_, , is an unpretending and unliterary but well-informed work, which may be used to check crichton and wheaton. the more recent work of mr. r. nisbet bain, _scandinavia: a political history of denmark, norway, and sweden from to _ (camb. univ. press, ), is useful for the period covered, but has little sociological value. for the history of ancient scandinavian literature, the introduction to vigfusson and powell's _corpus poeticum boreale_ ( ), and prof. powell's article on icelandic literature in the th ed. of the _encyclopædia britannica_, are preferable to schweitzer's _geschichte der skandinavischen literatur_ ( , bde.), which, however, is useful for the modern period.] [footnote : see geijer's _history of the swedes_, eng. tr. of pt. i, -vol. ed. p. , as to the special persistence in scandinavia of the early religious conception of kingship. cp. crichton and wheaton's _scandinavia_, , i, .] [footnote : such new testament passages as _rom._ xiii, - , and _titus_ iii, , seem to have been penned or interpolated expressly to propitiate the roman government.] [footnote : it was by entirely overlooking this historic fact that m. fustel de coulanges, in the last chapter of his _cité antique_, was able to propound a theory of historic christianity as something extra-political. he there renounced the inductive method for a pure ecclesiastical apriorism, and the result is a very comprehensive sociological misconception.] [footnote : geijer, pp. , ; crichton and wheaton, i, , , , .] [footnote : tacitus, _germania_, cc. , .] [footnote : cp. zschokke, _des schweizerlands geschichte_, c. , as to the psychological effect of an organised worship in a great building on heathens without any such centre. and see the frank admission of j.r. green, _short history_, p. , that among the anglo-saxons "religion had told against political independence."] [footnote : cp. c.f. allen, _history of denmark_, french tr., copenhagen, , i, , .] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, _scandinavia_, i, - ; hardwick, _church history: middle age_, , p. . knut was a great supporter of missionaries. hardwick attributes to gorm a "bitter hatred" of the church, and also "violence," but gives no details.] [footnote : even svend is said to have laboured for christianity in his latter years--another suggestion that it was found to answer monarchic purposes. see hardwick, p. , _note _.] [footnote : cp. dasent, introd. to _the burnt njal_, p. ix.] [footnote : hardwick, as cited, p. .] [footnote : hardwick, as cited.] [footnote : a warlike priest of bremen is said to have converted him in germany; and he was baptised in the scilly islands, which he had visited on a piratical expedition. finally he was confirmed in england, which he promised to treat in future as a friendly state. (_id._ _ib._)] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, i, .] [footnote : cp. hardwick. p. , _note _.] [footnote : though this was often of the most brutal description, there were some comparatively "mild-mannered" pirates, who rarely "cut a throat or scuttled ship." see c.-f. allen, _histoire de danemark_, i, .] [footnote : geijer, _history of sweden_, eng. tr. p. .] [footnote : it is actually on record that the practice long subsisted in iceland, despite the efforts of st. olaf to suppress it. hardwick, _church history: middle age_, p. , _note_, citing torfaens, _hist. norveg._ ii, , and neander. among the slavonic pomeranians in the twelfth century it was still common to destroy female children at birth. _id._ p. , _note_.] [footnote : cp. c.-f. allen, _histoire de danemark_, fr. tr. , i, .] [footnote : "qu'est-ce que c'est que l'angleterre? une colonie français mal tournée."] [footnote : thus rolf the ganger fared forth to france because harold fairhair would not suffer piracy on any territory acquired by him.] [footnote : _essay on the principle of population_, th ed. p. .] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, i, . dr. ph. schweitzer (_geschichte der skandinavischen literatur_, § ), makes the surprising statement that the quantity of old coins found in scandinavia (over , within the last century) proves that the ancient scandinavian commerce was very great (_ein ganz grossartiger_). his own account of the occasional barter of the vikings shows that there was nothing "grossartig" about it, and the coins prove nothing beyond piracy.] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, i, , .] [footnote : _id._ pp. , , , .] [footnote : _id._ pp. , , .] [footnote : _id._ ii, . cp. laing, _journal of a residence in norway_ ( - ), ed. , p. . bain, however, pronounces that in norway in the latter part of the fifteenth century "the peasantry were mostly thralls" (_scandinavia_, , p. ).] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, i, , .] [footnote : _id._ p. ; geijer, p. .] [footnote : geijer, pp. , ; crichton and wheaton, i, .] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, i, .] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, i, .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : geijer, pp. , ; otté, _scandinavian history_, , p. .] [footnote : cp. milman, _latin christianity_, th ed. ii, , on anglo-saxon separatism. since this was written there has taken place the decisive separation between norway and sweden.] [footnote : otté, _scandinavian history_, , pp. - . himself an excellent latinist, he sought to raise the learned professions, and compelled the burghers to give their children schooling under penalty of heavy fines. he further caused new and better books to be prepared for the public schools, and stopped witch-burning. cp. allen, _histoire de danemark_, i, .] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, i, - , ; allen, as cited, i, , .] [footnote : otté, p. ; allen, i, , .] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, i, - ; allen, pp. - .] [footnote : allen, i, , .] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, pp. , . these writers suppress the details as to frederick's anti-popular action; and otté's history, giving these, omits all mention of his act of toleration. allen's is the best account, i, , , , .] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, pp. - ; otté, pp. - . according to some accounts, the great bulk of the spoils went to the nobility. villers, _essay on the reformation_, eng. tr. , p. .] [footnote : it is notable that even in the thirteenth century there was a norwegian king (erik) called the priest-hater, because of his efforts to make the clergy pay taxes.] [footnote : "the bulk of the people, at least in the first instance, and especially in sweden and norway, were by no means disposed to look to wittenberg rather than to rome for spiritual guidance" (bain, _scandinavia_, p. ; cp. pp. , ).] [footnote : geijer, p. ; otté, p. .] [footnote : as the king wrote later to an acquisitive noble: "to strip churches, convents, and prebends of estates, manors, and chattels, thereto are all full willing and ready; and after such a fashion is every man a christian and evangelical"--_i.e._ lutheran. geijer, p. . cp. p. as to the practice of spoliation.] [footnote : geijer, pp. , .] [footnote : _id._ p. ; otté, p. . the prelates were no longer admitted to any political offices, though the bishops and pastors sat together in the diet.] [footnote : see geijer, pp. - .] [footnote : prof. york powell, article on icelandic literature, in _encyclopædia britannica_, th ed. xii, ; th ed. xiv, .] [footnote : _id._ ( th ed. xiv, ).] [footnote : bain, _scandinavia_, pp. - .] [footnote : powell, article on icelandic literature, _ency. brit._ th ed. xii, .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : shaftesbury (_characteristics_, ed. , ii, ) writes in of "that forlorn troop of begging gentry extant in denmark or sweden, since the time that those nations lost their liberties."] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, ii, .] [footnote : _id._ ii, - .] [footnote : laing in (_tour in sweden_, p. ) thought the danes as backward as they had been in , quoting the ambassador molesworth as to the effect of lutheran protestantism in destroying danish liberties (pp. , ). but it is hard to see that there were any popular liberties to destroy, save in so far as the party which set up the reformation undid the popular laws of christian ii. the greatest social reforms in denmark are certainly the work of the last half-century.] [footnote : it will be remembered that the marquis of pombal, in portugal, at the same period, was similarly overthrown after a much longer and non-scandalous reformatory rule, the queen being his enemy.] [footnote : his particulars were gathered during a tour he made in . thus the norse practice he notes had been independent of any effect produced by his own essay.] [footnote : _essay on the principle of population_, th ed. pp. , .] [footnote : this was doubtless owing to the loss of finland ( ), a circumstance not considered by malthus.] [footnote : malthus (p. ) gives higher and clearly erroneous figures for both periods, and contradicts them later (p. ) with figures which he erroneously applies to sweden _and finland_. he seems to have introduced the latter words in the wrong passage.] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : see p. as to the restrictions on subdivision of farms by way of safeguarding the forests.] [footnote : _id._ p. . a priest would often refuse to marry a couple who had no good prospect of a livelihood: so far could rational custom affect even ecclesiastical practice.] [footnote : cp. crichton and wheaton, ii, - ; laing, _journal of a residence in norway_ ( - ), ed. , pp. , , , , , .] [footnote : crichton and wheaton, ii, . laing (_tour in sweden_, pp. - ) thought the swedish peasants better off than the scotch, though morally inferior to the norwegian.] [footnote : laing, _norway_, p. .] [footnote : laing, as cited, p. ; crichton and wheaton, ii, .] [footnote : sweden in stood at , , ; in , at , , ; in , at , , . estimate for , , , . norway in stood at , ; in at , , .] [footnote : laing, as cited, p. , _note_.] chapter iii the hansa systematic commerce in the north of europe, broadly speaking, begins with the traffic of the hansa towns, whose rise may be traced to the sudden development of civic life forced on germany in the tenth century by the emperor henry i, as a means of withstanding the otherwise irresistible raids of the hungarians.[ ] once founded, such cities for their own existence' sake gave freedom to all fugitive serfs who joined them, defending such against former masters, and giving them the chance of earning a living.[ ] that is by common consent the outstanding origin of german civic industry, and the original conditions were such that the cities, once formed, were gradually forced[ ] to special self-reliance. _faustrecht_, or private war, was universal, even under emperors who suppressed feudal brigandage; and the cities had to fight their own battle, like those of italy, from the beginning. as compared with the robber baronage and separate princes, they stood for intelligence and co-operation, and supplied a basis for organisation without which the long german chaos of the middle ages would have been immeasurably worse. taking their commercial cue from the cities of italy, they reached, as against feudal enemies, a measure of peaceful union which the less differentiated italian cities could not attain save momentarily. the decisive conditions were that whereas in italy the enemies were manifold--sometimes feudal nobles, sometimes the emperor, sometimes the pope--the german cities had substantially one objective, the protection of trade from the robber-knights. thus, as early as the year , seventy cities of south germany formed the rhenish league, on which followed that of the swabian towns. the league of the hansa cities, like the other early "hansa of london," which united cities of flanders and france with mercantile london, was a growth on all fours with these.[ ] starting, however, in maritime towns which grew to commerce from beginnings in fishing, as the earlier scandinavians had grown to piracy, the northern league gave its main strength to trade by sea. its special interest for us to-day lies in the fact that it was ultra-racial, beginning in in a pact between the free cities of lübeck and hamburg,[ ] and finally including wendish, german, dutch, french, and even spanish cities, in fluctuating numbers. the motive to union, as it had need be, was one of mercantile gain. beginning, apparently, by having each its separate authorised _hansa_ or trading-group in foreign cities, the earlier trading-towns of the group, perhaps from the measure of co-operation and fraternity thus forced on them abroad,[ ] saw their advantage in a special league for the common good as a monopoly maintained against outsiders; and this being extended, the whole league came to bear the generic name. see kohlrausch for the theory that contact in foreign cities is the probable cause of the policy of union (_history of germany_, eng. tr., p. ; cp. ashley, _introd. to economic history_, i, , ). as to the origin of the word, see stubbs, i, , _note_. the _hans_ or _hansa_ first appears historically in england as a name apparently identical with _gild_; and, starting with a _hansa_ or hanse-house of their own, english cities in some cases are found trading through subordinate _hansas_ in other cities, not only of normandy but of england itself. thus arose the flemish hansa or "hansa of london," ignored in so many notices of the better-known hanseatic league. early in the thirteenth century it included a number of the towns of flanders engaged in the english wool-trade; and later it numbered at one time seventeen towns, including chalons, rheims, st. quentin, cambray, and amiens (ashley, _introd. to economic history_, i, ; cp. prof. schanz, _englische handelspolitik_, , i, , citing varenbergh, _hist. des relations diplomatiques entre le comte de flandre et l'angleterre au moyen âge_, bruxelles, , p. _sq._). there is some obscurity as to when the foreign hansards were first permitted to have warehouses and residences of their own in london. cp. cunningham, _growth of english industry and commerce_, vol. i, § ; and ashley, i, , following schanz, who dates this privilege in the reign of henry iii, though the merchants of cologne (_id._ p. ) had a _hansa_ or gildhall in london in the reign of richard i. under whatever conditions, it is clear that london was one of the first foreign cities in which the german hansard traders came in friendly contact. a reciprocal and normal egoism furthered as well as thwarted the hansard enterprise. trade in the feudal period being a ground of privilege like any other, the monopolied merchants of every city strove to force foreign traders to deal with them only. on the other hand, the english nobility sought to deal rather with the foreigner directly than with the english middlemen; and thus in each feudal country, but notably in england,[ ] the interest of the landed class tended to throw foreign trade substantially in foreign hands, which did their best to hold it. in the reigns of the edwards privileges of free trade with natives were gradually conferred on the foreign traders[ ] in the interests of the landed class--the only "general consumers" who could then make their claims felt--in despite of the angry resistance of the native merchant class. for the rest, in a period when some maritime english cities, like those of france and germany, could still carry on private wars with each other as well as with foreign cities,[ ] a trader of one english town was in any other english town on all fours with a foreigner.[ ] when, therefore, the foreigners combined, their advantage over the native trade was twofold. naturally the cities least liable to regal interference carried on a cosmopolitan co-operation to the best advantage. the hansa of london, being made up of flemish and french cities, was hampered by the divided allegiance of its members and by their national jealousies;[ ] while the german cities, sharing in the free german scramble under a nominal emperor much occupied in italy, could combine with ease. cologne, having early hansa rights in london, sought to exclude the other cities, but had to yield and join their union;[ ] and the hansa of london dwindled and broke up before their competition. as the number of leagued cities increased, it might be thought, something in the nature of an ideal of free trade must have partly arisen, for the number of "privileged" towns was thus apparently greater than that of the outside towns traded with. to the last, however, the faith seems to have been that without monopoly the league must perish; and in the closing protestant period the command of the baltic, as against the dutch and the scandinavians, was desperately and vainly battled for. but just as the cities could not escape the play of the other political forces of the time, and were severally clutched by this or that potentate, or biassed to their own stock, so they could not hinder that the principle of self-seeking on which they founded should divide themselves. as soon as the dutch affiliated cities saw their opening for trade in the baltic on their own account, they broke away. while the league lasted, it was as remarkable a polity as any in history. with its four great foreign factories of bruges, london, bergen, and novgorod, and its many minor stations, all conducted by celibate servitors living together like so many bodies of friars;[ ] with its four great circles of affiliated towns, and its triennial and other congresses, the most cosmopolitan of european parliaments; with its military and naval system, by which, turning its trading into fighting fleets, it made war on scandinavian kings and put down piracy on every hand--it was in its self-seeking and often brutal way one of the popular civilising influences of northern europe for some two hundred and fifty years; and the very forces of separate national commerce, which finally undermined it, were set up or stimulated by its own example. with less rapacity, indeed, it might have conciliated populations that it alienated. a lack of any higher ideals than those of zealous commerce marks its entire career; it is associated with no such growth of learning and the fine arts as took place in commercial holland; and its members seem to have been among the most unrefined of the northern city populations.[ ] but it made for progress on the ordinary levels. in a world wholly bent on privilege in all directions, it at least tempered its own spirit of monopoly in some measure by its principle of inclusion; and it passed away as a great power before it could dream of renewing the ideal of monopoly in the more sinister form of oriental empire taken up by the dutch. and, while its historians have not been careful to make a comparative study of the internal civic life which flourished under the commercial union, it does not at all appear that the divisions of classes were more steep, or the lot of the lower worse, than in any northern european state of the period. the "downfall" of such a polity, then, is conceptual only. all the realities of life evolved by the league were passed on to its constituent elements throughout northern europe; and there survived from it what the separate states had not yet been able to offer--the adumbration, however dim, of a union reaching beyond the bounds of nationality and the jealousies of race. in an age of private war, without transcending the normal ethic, it practically limited private war as regarded its german members; and while joining battle at need with half-barbarian northern kings, or grudging foreigners, it of necessity made peace its ideal. its dissolution, therefore, marked at once the advance of national organisation up to its level, and the persistence of the more primitive over the more rational instincts of coalition. footnotes: [footnote : menzel, _geschichte der deutschen_, bk. ix, cap. ; kohlrausch, _history of germany_, eng. tr., pp. , , ; dunham, _history of the germanic empire_, , i, ; sharon turner, _history of europe during the middle ages_, nd ed. i, . the main authority is the old annalist wittikind.] [footnote : heeren, _essai sur l'influence des croisades_, , pp. - ; smith, _wealth of nations_, bk. iii, ch. .] [footnote : as to the process of evolution, see a good summary in robertson's _view of the progress of society in europe_ (prefixed to his _charles v_), note xvii to sect. i.] [footnote : the spanish _hermandad_ was originally an organisation of cities set up in similar fashion. e. armstrong, _introduction_ to major martin hume's _spain_, , p. .] [footnote : lübeck was founded in by a count of holstein, and won its freedom in the common medieval fashion by purchase. hamburg bought its freedom of its bishop in . hallam, _middle ages_, th ed. iii, . many dutch, supposed to have been driven from their own land by an inundation, settled on the baltic coast between bremen and dantzic in the twelfth century. heeren, _essai sur les croisades_, , pp. - , citing leibnitz and hoche. cp. g.h. schmidt, _zur agrargeschichte lübecks_, , p. _sq._] [footnote : "the league ... would scarcely have held long together or displayed any real federal unity but for the pressure of external dangers" (art. "hanseatic league" in _ency. brit._, th ed. xi, ).] [footnote : cp. ashley, as cited, i, - ; schanz, as cited, i, .] [footnote : cp. w. von ochenkowski, _englands wirtschaftliche entwickelung im ausgange des mittelalters_, . pp. - , - . cp. the author's _trade and tariffs_, pt. ii, ch. ii, § .] [footnote : hallam, _middle ages_, iii, . on private war in general see robertson's _view_, note to § i.] [footnote : ashley, i, , .] [footnote : whereas in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries england and flanders had freely exchanged trading privileges, in the fifteenth century they begin to withdraw them, treating each other as trading rivals (schanz, i, , ).] [footnote : ashley, i, .] [footnote : this principle may have been copied from the practice of the lombard _umiliati_. the common account of that order is that when in the emperor banished a number of lombards, chiefly milanese, into germany, they formed themselves into a religious society, called "the humbled," and in that corporate capacity devoted themselves to various trades, in particular to wool-working. returning to milan in , they developed their organisation there. down to all the members were laymen; but thereafter priests were placed in control. for long the organisation was in high repute both for commercial skill and for culture. ultimately, like all other corporate orders, they grew corrupt; and in they were suppressed by pius v. (pignotti, _hist. of tuscany_, eng. trans. , pp. - , _note_, following tiraboschi.)] [footnote : in such accounts as m'culloch's (_treatises and essays_) and those of the german patriotic historians the hansa is seen in a rather delusive abstract. the useful monograph of miss zimmern (_the hansa towns_: story of the nations series) gives a good idea of the reality. see in particular pp. - . it should be noted, however, that lübeck is credited with being the first northern town to adopt the oriental usage of water-pipes (macpherson, _annals of commerce_, , i, ).] chapter iv holland note on literature the special interest of dutch history for english and other readers led in past generations to a more general sociological study of it than was given to almost any other. l. guicciardini's _description of the low countries_ (_descrizione ... di tutti paesi bassi_, etc., anversa, folio, , , etc.; trans. in french, , etc.; in english, ; in dutch, ; in latin, , etc.) is one of the fullest surveys of the kind made till recent times. sir william temple's _observations upon the united provinces of the netherlands_ ( ) laid for english readers further foundations of an intelligent knowledge of the vital conditions of the state which had been in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the great commercial rival of england; and in the eighteenth century many english writers discussed the fortunes of dutch commerce. an english translation was made of the remarkably sagacious work variously known as the _memoirs of john de witt_, the _true interest of holland_, and _political maxims of the state of holland_ (really written by de witt's friend, pierre delacourt; de witt, however, contributing two chapters), and much attention was given to it here and on the continent. in addition to the many and copious histories written in the eighteenth century in dutch, three or four voluminous and competent histories of the low countries were written in french--_e.g._, those of dujardin ( , etc., vols. to), cerisier ( , etc., vols. mo), le clerc ( - , vols. folio), wicquefort ( , folio, proceeding from peace of münster). of late years, though the lesson is as important as ever, it appears to be less generally attended to. in our own country, however, have appeared davies' _history of holland_ ( , vols.), a careful but not often an illuminating work, which oddly begins with the statement that "there is scarcely any nation whose history has been so little understood or so generally neglected as that of holland"; t. colley grattan's earlier and shorter book (_the netherlands_, ), which is still worth reading for a general view based on adequate learning; and the much better known works of motley, _the rise of the dutch republic_ ( ) and the _history of the united netherlands_ ( - ), which deal minutely with only a period of fifty-five years of dutch history, and of which, as of the work of davies, the sociological value is much below the annalistic. all three are impaired as literature by their stale rhetoric. the same malady infects the second volume of the _industrial history of the free nations_ ( ), by w. torrens m'cullagh (afterwards m'cullagh torrens); but this, which deals with holland, is the better section of that treatise, and it gives distinct help to a scientific conception of the process of dutch history, as does j.r. m'culloch's _essay on the rise, progress, and decline of commerce in holland_, which is one of the best of his _essays and treatises_ ( nd ed. ). the _holland_ of the late professor thorold rogers has merit as a vivacious conspectus, but hardly rises to the opportunity. of the many french, belgian, and german works on special periods of the history of the low countries, some have a special and general scientific interest. among these is the research of m. alphonse wauters on _les libertés communales_ (bruxelles, ). barante's _histoire des ducs de bourgogne_ ( th ed. - ) contains much interesting matter on the burgundian period. the assiduous research of m. lefèvre pontalis, _jean de witt, grand pensionnaire de hollande_ ( tom. ; eng. trans. vols.), throws a full light on one of the most critical periods of dutch history. dutch works on the history of the low countries in general, and the united provinces in particular, are many and voluminous; indeed, no history has been more amply written. the good general history of the netherlands by n.g. van kampen, which appeared in german in the series of heeren and uckert ( - ), is only partially superseded by the _geschichte der niederlande_ of wenzelburger (bd. i, ; ii, ), which is not completed. but the most readable general history of the netherlands yet produced is that of p.j. blok, _geschiedenis van het nederlandsche volk_ ( , etc.), of which there is a competent but unfortunately abridged english translation (putnams, vol. i, ). standard modern dutch works are those of j.a. vijnne, _geschiedenis van het vaderland_, and j. van lennep, _de geschiedenis van nederland_. for belgian history in particular the authorities are similarly numerous. the _manuel de l'histoire de belgique_, by j. david (louvain, ), will be found a good handbook of authorities, episodes, and chronology, though without any sociological element. the _histoire de belgique_ of th. juste (bruxelles, , tom. to) is comprehensive, but disfigured by insupportable illustrations. § . _the rise of the netherlands_ the case of holland is one of those which at first sight seem to flout the sociological maxim that civilisations flourish in virtue partly of natural advantages and partly of psychological pressures. on the face of things, it would seem that the original negation of natural advantage could hardly be carried farther than here. a land pieced together out of drained marshes certainly tells more of man's effort than of nature's bounty. yet even here the process of natural law is perfectly sequent and intelligible. one of the least-noted influences of the sea on civilisation is the economic basis it yields in the way of food-supply. already in cæsar's time the batavians were partly fishermen; and it may be taken as certain that through all the troubled ages down to the period of industry and commerce it was the resource of fishing that mainly maintained and retained population in the sea-board swamps of the low countries. here was a harvest that enemies could not destroy, that demanded no ploughing and sowing, and that could not well be reaped by the labour of slaves. when war and devastation could absolutely depopulate the cultivated land, forcing all men to flee from famine, the sea for ever yielded some return to him who could but get afloat with net or line; and he who could sail the sea had a double chance of life and freedom as against land enemies. thus a sea marsh could be humanly advantaged as against a fruitful plain, and could be a surer dwelling-place. the tables were first effectually turned when the norse pirates attacked from the sea--an irresistible inroad which seems to have driven the sea-board frisians (as it did the coast inhabitants of france) in crowds into slavery for protection, thus laying a broad foundation of popular serfdom.[ ] when, however, the norse empire began to fail, the sea as a source of sustenance again counted for civilisation; and when to this natural basis of population and subsistence there was added the peculiar stimulus set up by a religious inculcation or encouragement of a fish diet, the fishing-grounds of the continent became relatively richer estates than mines and vineyards. venice and holland alike owed much to the superstition which made christians akreophagous on fridays and fast-days and all through the forty days of lent. when the plan of salting herrings was hit upon,[ ] all christian europe helped to make the fortunes of the fisheries. net-making may have led to weaving; in any case weaving is the first important industry developed in the low countries. it depended mainly on the wool of england; and on the basis of the ancient seafaring there thus arose a sea-going commerce.[ ] further, the position of flanders,[ ] as a trade-centre for northern and southern europe, served to make it a market for all manner of produce; and round such a market population and manufactures grew together. it belonged to the conditions that, though the territory came under feudal rule like every other in the medieval military period, the cities were relatively energetic all along,[ ] theirs being (after the dark ages, when the work was largely done by the church) the task of maintaining the sea-dykes[ ] and water-ways, and theirs the wealth on which alone the feudal over-lords could hope to flourish in an unfruitful land. the over-lords, on their part, saw the expediency of encouraging foreigners to settle and add to their taxable population,[ ] thus establishing the tradition of political tolerance long before the protestant period. hence arose in the netherlands, after the renaissance, the phenomenon of a dense industrial population flourishing on a soil which finally could not be made to feed them,[ ] and carrying on a vast shipping trade without owning a single good harbour and without possessing home-grown timber wherewith to build their ships, or home-products to freight them.[ ] one of the determinants of this growth on a partially democratic footing was clearly the primary and peculiar necessity for combination by the inhabitants to maintain the great sea-dykes, the canals, and the embankments of the low-lying river-lands in the interior.[ ] it was a public bond in peace, over and above the normal tie of common enmities. the result was a development of civic life still more rapid and more marked in inland flanders,[ ] where the territorial feudal power was naturally greater than in the maritime dutch provinces. self-ruling cities, such as ghent and antwerp, at their meridian, were too powerful to be effectively menaced by their immediate feudal lords. but on the side of their relations with neighbouring cities or states they all exhibited the normal foible; and it was owing only to the murderous compulsion put upon them by spain in the sixteenth century that any of the provinces of the netherlands became a federal republic. for five centuries after charlemagne, who subdued them to his system, the low countries had undergone the ordinary slow evolution from pure feudalism to the polity of municipalities. in the richer inland districts the feudal system, lay and clerical, was at its height, the baronial castles being "here more numerous than in any other part of christendom";[ ] and when the growing cities began to feel their power to buy charters, the feudal formula was unchallenged,[ ] while the mass of the outside population were in the usual "teutonic" state of partial or complete serfdom. it was only by burning their suburbs and taking to the walled fortress that the people of utrecht escaped the yoke of the norsemen.[ ] mr. torrens m'cullagh is responsible for the statement that "it seems doubtful whether any portion of the inhabitants of holland were ever in a state of actual servitude or bondage," and that the northern provinces were more generally free from slavery than the others (_industrial history of the free nations_, , ii, ). motley (_rise of the dutch republic_, as cited, pp. , ) pronounces, on the contrary, that "in the northern netherlands the degraded condition of the mass continued longest," and that "the number of slaves throughout the netherlands was very large; the number belonging to the bishopric of utrecht enormous." this is substantially borne out by grattan, _netherlands_, pp. , ; blok, _geschiedenis van het nederlandsche volk_, i, , , - , eng. tr. i, - ; wauters, _les libertés communales_, , pp. - . as is noted by blok, the status of the peasantry fluctuated, the thirteenth century being one of partial retrogression. cp. pp. , , as to the general depression of the peasant class. the great impulse to slavery, as above noted, seems to have been given by the norse pirates in general and the later norman invaders, who, under godfrey, forced every "free" frisian to wear a halter. the comparative protection accruing to slaves of the church was embraced by multitudes. in the time of the crusades, again, many serfs were sold or mortgaged to the church by the nobles in order to obtain funds for their expedition. the cities were thus the liberating and civilising forces;[ ] and the application of townsmen's capital to the land was an early influence in improving rural conditions.[ ] but there was no escape from the fatality of strife in the teutonic any more than in the ancient greek or in the contemporary italian world. flanders, having the large markets of france at hand, developed its clothmaking and other industries more rapidly than the frisian districts, where weaving was probably earlier carried on;[ ] and here serfdom disappeared comparatively early,[ ] the nobility dwindling through their wars; but the new industrial strifes of classes, which grew up everywhere in the familiar fashion, naturally matured the sooner in the more advanced civilisation; and already at the beginning of the fourteenth century we find a resulting disintegration. the monopoly methods of the trade gilds drove much of the weaving industry into the villages; then the franco-flemish wars, wherein the townspeople, by expelling the french in despite of the nobility, greatly strengthened their position,[ ] nevertheless tended, as did the subsequent civil wars, to drive trade into south brabant. in flemish ghent and bruges the clashing interests of weavers and woollen-traders, complicated by the strife of the french (aristocratic) and anti-french (popular) factions, led to riots in which citizens and magistrates were killed ( ). at times these enmities reached the magnitude of civil war. at ypres ( ) a combination of workmen demanded the suppression of rival industries in neighbouring villages, and in an ensuing riot the mayor and all the magistrates were slain; at bruges ( ) a trade riot led to the loss of fifteen hundred lives.[ ] when later the weaving trade had flourished in brabant, the same fatality came about: plebeians rebelled against patrician magistrates--themselves traders or employers of labour--in the principal cities; and brussels ( ) was for a time given up to pillage and massacre, put down only by the troops of the reigning duke. a great legislative effort was made in the "laws of cortenberg," framed by an assembly of nobles and city deputies, to regulate fiscal and industrial affairs in a stable fashion;[ ] but after fifty years the trouble broke out afresh, and was ill-healed.[ ] at length, in a riot in the rich city of louvain ( ), sixteen of its patrician magistrates were slain, whereupon many took flight to england, but many more to haarlem, amsterdam, leyden, and other dutch cities.[ ] louvain never again recovered its trade and wealth;[ ] and since the renewed franco-flemish wars of this period had nearly destroyed the commerce of flanders,[ ] there was a general gravitation of both merchandise and manufacture to holland.[ ] thus arose dutch manufactures in an organic connection with maritime commerce, the dutch municipal organisation securing a balance of trade interests where that of the flemish industrial cities had partially failed. the commercial lead given by the hanseatic league was followed in the netherlands with a peculiar energy, and till the spanish period the main part of dutch maritime commerce was with northern europe and the hansa cities. so far as the language test goes, the original hansards and the dutch were of the same "low dutch" stock, which was also that of the anglo-saxons.[ ] thus there was seen the phenomenon of a vigorous maritime and commercial development among the continental branches of the race; while the english, having lost its early seafaring habits on its new settlement, lagged far behind in both developments. kinship, of course, counted for nothing towards goodwill between the nations when it could not keep peace within or between the towns; and in the fifteenth century the dutch cities are found at war with the hansa, as they had been in the thirteenth with england, and were to be again. but the spirit of strife did its worst work at home. on the one hand, a physical schism had been set up in friesland in the thirteenth century by the immense disaster of the inundation which enlarged the zuyder zee.[ ] of that tremendous catastrophe there are singularly few historic traces; but it had the effect of making two small countries where there had been one large one, what was left of west friesland being absorbed in the specific province of holland, while east friesland, across the zuyder zee, remained a separate confederation of maritime districts.[ ] to the south-west, again, the great flemish cities were incurably jealous of each other's prosperity, as well as inwardly distracted by their class disputes; and within the cities of holland, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, while intelligible lines of cleavage between trades or classes are hard to find, the factions of hoek and kabbeljauw, the "hooks" and the "codfish," appear to have carried on a chronic strife, as irrational as any to be noted in the cities of italy. thus in the north as in the south, among teutons as among "latins" and among ancient greeks, the primary instincts of separation checked democratic growth and coalition; though after the period of local feudal sovereignties the powerful monarchic and feudal forces in the netherlands withheld the cities from internecine wars. the most sympathetic historians are forced from the first to note the stress of mutual jealousy among the cities and districts of the netherlands. "the engrained habit of municipal isolation," says one, "was the cause why the general liberties of the netherlands were imperilled, why the larger part of the country was ultimately ruined, and why the war of independence was conducted with so much risk and difficulty, even in the face of the most serious perils" (thorold rogers, _holland_, p. . cp. pp. , ; motley, pp. , , ; grattan, pp. , , ). van kampen avows (_geschichte der niederlande_, i, ) that throughout the middle ages friesland was unprogressive owing to constant feuds. even as late as leyden refused to let the harle maer be drained, because it would advantage other cities; and amsterdam in turn opposed the reopening of the old rhine channel because it would make leyden maritime (temple, _observations_, i, , ch. iii). as regards the early factions of the "hooks" and the "codfish" in the dutch towns, the historic obscurity is so great that historians are found ascribing the names in contrary ways. grattan (p. ) represents the hooks as the town party, and the codfish as the party of the nobles; motley (p. ) reverses the explanation, noting, however, that there was no consistent cleavage of class or of principle (cp. m'cullagh, pp. , ). this account is supported by van kampen, i, , . the fullest survey of the hook and cod feud is given by wenzelburger, _geschichte der niederlande_, i, - . as to feuds of other parties in some of the cities see van kampen, i, . they included, for example, a class feud between the rich _vetkooper_ (fat-dealers) and the poor _schieringer_ (eel-fishers). see davies, i, . thus dissident, and with feudal wars breaking out in every generation, the cities and provinces could win concessions from their feudal chiefs when the latter were in straits, as in the famous case of the "great privilege" extorted from the duchess mary, daughter of charles the bold of burgundy, after her father's overthrow by the swiss; again in the case of her husband maximilian after her death; and previously in the reaffirmation of the ill-observed laws of cortenberg, secured from the duke of brabant by the louvainers in ; but they could never deliver themselves from the feudal superstition, never evolve the republican ideal. when the rich citizens exploited the poor, it was the local sovereign's cue, as of old, to win the populace; whereupon the patricians leant to the over-lord, were he even the king of france; or it might be that the local lord himself sought the intervention of his suzerain, who again was at times the first to meddle, and against whom, as against rival potentates, the cities would at times fight desperately for their recognised head, when he was not overtaxing or thwarting them, or endangering their commerce.[ ] it was a medley of clashing interests, always in unstable equilibrium. and so when sovereign powers on a great scale, as the dukes of burgundy, followed by the archduke maximilian, and later by the emperor charles, came into the inheritance of feudal prestige, the dutch and flemish cities became by degrees nearly as subordinate as those of france and germany, losing one by one their municipal privileges.[ ] the monarchic superstition overbore the passions of independence and primary interest; and a strong feudal ruler could count on a more general and durable loyalty than was ever given to any citizen-statesman. james van arteveldt, who guided ghent in the fourteenth century, and whose policy was one of alliance with the english king against the french, the feudal over-lord, was "the greatest personality flanders ever produced."[ ] but though arteveldt's policy was maintained even by his murderers, murdered he was by his fellow-citizens, as the great de witt was to be murdered in holland three hundred years later. the monarchised netherlanders were republicans only in the last resort, as against insupportable tyranny. philip of burgundy, who heavily oppressed them, they called "the good." at the end of the fifteenth century maximilian was able, even before he became emperor, not only to crush the "bread-and-cheese" rebellion of the exasperated peasantry in friesland and guelderland,[ ] but to put down all the oligarchs who had rebelled against him, and finally to behead them by the dozen,[ ] leaving the land to his son as a virtually subject state. in the sixteenth century, under charles v, the men of ghent, grown once again a great commercial community,[ ] exhibited again the fatal instability of the undeveloped democracy of all ages. called upon to pay their third of a huge subsidy of , , _caroli_ voted by the flemish states to the emperor, they rang their bell of revolt and defied him, offering their allegiance to the king of france. that monarch, by way of a bargain, promptly betrayed the intrigue to his "brother," who thereupon marched in force through france to the rebel city, now paralysed by terror; and without meeting a shadow of resistance, penalised it to the uttermost, beheading a score of leading citizens, banishing many more, annulling its remaining municipal rights, and exacting an increased tribute.[ ] it needed an extremity of grievance to drive such communities to an enduring rebellion. when charles v abdicated at brussels in favour of his son philip in , he had already caused to be put to death netherlanders to the number at least of thousands for religious heresy;[ ] and still the provinces were absolutely submissive, and the people capable of weeping collectively out of sympathy with the despot's infirmities.[ ] he, on his part, born and educated among them, and knowing them well, was wont to say of them that there was not a nation under the sun which more detested the _name_ of slavery, or that bore the reality more patiently when managed with discretion.[ ] he spoke whereof he knew. § . _the revolt against spain_ that the people who endured so much at the hands of a despot should have revolted unsubduably against his son is to be explained in terms of certain circumstances little stressed in popular historiography. in the narratives of the rhetorical historians, no real explanation arises. the revolt figures as a stand for personal and religious freedom. but when charles abdicated, after slaying his thousands, the reformation had been in full tide for over thirty years; calvin had built up protestant geneva to the point of burning servetus; england had been for twenty years depapalised; france, with many scholars and nobles converted to calvinism, was on the verge of a civil war of huguenots and catholics; the netherlands themselves had been drenched in the blood of heretics; and still no leading man had thought of repudiating either spain or rome. yet within thirteen years they were in full revolt, led by william of orange, now turned protestant. seeing that mere popular protestantism had spread far and gone fast, religious opinion was clearly not the determining force. in reality, the _conditio sine qua non_ was the psychological reversal effected by philip when he elected to rule as a spaniard, where his father had in effect ruled as a fleming. charles had always figured as a native of the netherlands, at home among his people, friendly to their great men, ready to employ them in his affairs, even to the extent of partly ruling spain through them. after his punishment of ghent they were his boon subjects; and in his youth it was the spaniards who were jealous of the flemish and dutch. this state of things had begun under his flemish-german father, philip i, who became king of spain by marriage, and under whom the netherland nobles showed in spain a rapacity that infuriated the spaniards against them. it was a question simply of racial predominance; and had the dynasty chosen to fix its capital in the north rather than in the south, it would have been the lot of the netherlanders to exploit spain--a task for which they were perfectly ready. the gross rapacity of the flemings in spain under philip i is admitted by motley (_rise_, as cited, pp. , ); but on the same score feeling was passionately strong in spain in the earlier years of the reign of charles. cp. robertson, _charles v_, bk. i (works, ed. , iv, , , , , , , , , , ); and van kampen, _geschichte der niederlande_, i, , . it took more than ten years to bring charles in good relations with the spaniards. see mr. e. armstrong's _introduction_ to major martin hume's _spain_, , pp. - , , . even in his latter years they are found protesting against his customary absence from spain, and his perpetual wars. robertson, bk. vi, p. . cp. bk. xii, vol. v, p. , as to the disregard shown him after his abdication. while it lasted, the flemish exploitation of spain was as shameless as the spanish exploitation of italy. the italian peter martyr angleria, residing at the court of spain, reckoned that in ten months the flemings there remitted home over a million ducats (robertson, bk. i, p. ). a lad, nephew of charles's flemish minister chievres, was appointed to the archbishopric of toledo, in defiance of general indignation. the result was a clerico-popular insurrection. everything goes to show that but for the emperor's prudence his flemings would have ruined him in spain, by getting him to tyrannise for their gain, as philip ii later did for the church's sake in the netherlands. it is not unwarrantable to say that had not charles had the sagacity to adapt himself to the spanish situation, learning to speak the language and even to tolerate the pride of the nobles[ ] to a degree to which he never yielded before the claims of the burghers of the netherlands, and had he not in the end identified himself chiefly with his spanish interests, the history of spain and the netherlands might have been entirely reversed. had he, that is, kept his seat of rule in the netherlands, drawing thither the unearned revenues of the americas, and still contrived to keep spain subject to his rule, the latter country would have been thrown back on her great natural resources, her industry, and her commerce, which, as it was, developed markedly during his reign,[ ] despite the heavy burdens of his wars. and in that case spain might conceivably have become the protestant and rebellious territory, and the netherlands on the contrary have remained catholic and grown commercially decrepit, having in reality the weaker potential economic basis. the theorem that the two races were vitally opposed in "religious sentiment," and that "it was as certain that the netherlanders would be fierce reformers as that the spaniards would be uncompromising persecutors" (motley, p. ), is part of the common pre-scientific conception of national development, and proceeds upon flat disregard of the historical evidence. it is well established that there was as much heresy of the more rational protestant and unitarian sort in spain, to begin with, as in holland. under ferdinand and isabella the inquisition seems to have struck mainly at judaic and moorish monotheistic heresy, which was not uncommon among the upper classes, while the lower were for the most part orthodox (armstrong, _introd._ to major hume's _spain_, pp. , ). thus there is good ground for the surmise that ferdinand's object was primarily the confiscation of the wealth of jews and other rich heretics. (see u.r. burke, _history of spain_, , ii, ; hume's ed. , ii, .) in aragon, valencia, and catalonia there was general resistance to the inquisition; in cordova there was a riot against it; in saragossa the inquisitor was murdered before the altar (armstrong, p. ; llorente, _hist. crit. de l'inquisition d'espagne_, éd. , i, - ; m'crie, _reformation in spain_, ed. , pp. - . cp. u.r. burke, as cited, ii, , , , , ; hume's ed. ii, , - , - , ; as to the general and prolonged resistance of the people). during that reign torquemada is credited with burning ten thousand persons in eighteen years (prescott, _history of ferdinand and isabella_, kirk's ed. , p. , citing llorente. but see p. , _note_, as to possible exaggeration. cp. burke, ii, ; hume's ed. ii, ). in the early lutheran period the spread of scholarly protestantism in spain was extremely rapid (la rigaudière, _histoire des persécutions religieuses en espagne_, , p. sq.), and in the early years of philip ii it needed furious persecution to crush it, thousands leaving the kingdom (prescott, _philip ii_, bk. ii, ch. iii; m'crie, _reformation in spain_, ch. viii; de castro, _history of the spanish protestants_, eng. tr. , _passim_). at the outset, persons were arrested in seville alone in one day; and the venetian ambassador in testifies to the large number of huguenots in spain (ranke, _hist. of the popes_, bk. v, eng. tr. -vol. ed. p. ). had philip ii had flemish sympathies and chosen to make brussels his capital, the stress of the inquisition could have fallen on the netherlands as successfully as it actually did on spain. his father's reign had proved as much. according to motley, not only multitudes of anabaptists but "thousands and tens of thousands of virtuous and well-disposed men and women" had then been "butchered in cold blood" (_rise_, p. ), without any sign of rebellion on the part of the provinces, whose leading men remained catholic. in most of the inhabitants of groningen were catholics (davies, ii, ). a protestant historian (grattan, p. ) admits that the protestants "never, and least of all in these days, formed the mass." another has admitted, as regards those of germany, that "nothing had contributed more to the undisturbed progress of their opinions than the interregnum after maximilian's death, the long absence of charles, and the slackness of the reins of government which these occasioned" (robertson, _charles v_, bk. v, ed. cited of _works_, vol. iv, p. ). "it was only tanners, dyers, and apostate priests who were protestants at that day in the netherlands" (motley, p. ). the same conditions would have had similar results in spain, where many catholics thought philip much too religious for his age and station (motley, p. ). it seems necessary to insist on the elementary fact that it was netherlanders who put protestants to death in the netherlands; and that it was spaniards who were burnt in spain. in the middle ages "nowhere was the persecution of heretics more relentless than in the netherlands" (motley, p. ; cp. p. ). grenvelle, most zealous of heresy-hunters, was a burgundian; viglius, an even bitterer persecutor, was a frisian. the statement of prescott (_philip ii_, kirk's ed. , p. ) that the netherlanders "claimed freedom of thought as their birthright" is a gratuitous absurdity. as regards, further, the old hallucination of "race types," it has to be noted that charles, a devout catholic and persecutor, was emphatically _teutonic_, according to the established canons. his stock was burgundo-austrian on the father's side; his spanish mother was of teutonic descent; he had the fair hair, blue eyes, and hanging jaw and lip of the teutonic hapsburgs (see menzel, _geschichte der deutschen_, cap. ), and so had his descendants after him. on the other hand, william the silent was markedly "spanish" in his physiognomy (motley, p. ), and his reticence would in all ages pass for a spanish rather than a "teutonic" characteristic. motley is reduced to such shifts of rhetoric concerning philip ii as the proposition (p. ) that "the burgundian and austrian elements of his blood seemed to have evaporated." but his descendant, philip iv, as seen in the great portraits of velasquez, is, like him, a "typical" teuton; and the stock preserved the teutonic physiological tendency to gluttony, a most "un-spanish" characteristic. it is true that, as buckle argues, the many earthquakes in spain tended to promote superstitious fear; but then on his principles the dutch seafaring habits, and the constant risks and frequent disasters of inundation, had the same primary tendency. for the rest, the one serious oversight in buckle's theory of spanish civilisation is his assumption (cp. -vol. ed. ii, - ; -vol. ed. p. ) that spanish "loyalty" was abnormal and continuous from the period of the first struggles with the moors. as to this see the present writer's notes in the -vol. ed. of buckle, as cited. even ferdinand, as an aragonese, was disrespectfully treated by the castilians (cp. armstrong as cited, pp. , , etc.; de castro, _history of religious intolerance in spain_, eng. tr. , pp. , ); and philip i and charles v set up a new resistance. an alien dynasty could set up disaffection in spain as elsewhere. it should be noted, finally, that the stiff ceremonialism which is held to be the special characteristic of spanish royalty was a burgundo-teutonic innovation, dating from philip i, and that even in the early days of philip the cortes petitioned "that the household of the prince don carlos should be arranged on the old spanish lines, and not in the pompous new-fangled way of the house of burgundy" (major hume's _spain_, p. ). prescott (_philip ii_, ed. cited, pp. , ) makes the petition refer to the king's own household, and shows it to have condemned the king's excessive expenditure in very strong terms, saying the expense of his household was "as great as would be required for the conquest of a kingdom." at the same time the cortes petitioned against bull-fights, which appear to have originated with the moors, were strongly opposed by isabella the catholic, and were much encouraged by the teutonic charles v (u.r. burke, _history of spain_, , ii, - ; hume's ed. i, _sq._). in fine, the conventional spain is a manufactured system, developed under a teutonic dynasty. "to a german race of sovereigns spain finally owed the subversion of her national system and ancient freedom" (stubbs, _const. hist._ th ed. i, ). no doubt the dutch disaffection to philip, which began to reveal itself immediately after his accession, may be conceived as having economic grounds. indeed, his creation of fresh bishoprics, and his manipulation of the abbey revenues, created instant and general resentment among churchmen and nobles,[ ] as compared with his mere continuation of religious persecution; and despite his pledges to the contrary, certain posts in the low countries were conferred on spaniards.[ ] but had he shown his father's adaptability, all this could have been adjusted. had he either lived at brussels or made the flemings feel that he held them an integral part of his empire, he would have had the zealous support of the upper classes in suppressing the popular heresy, which repelled them. heresy in the netherlands, indeed, seems thus far to have been on the whole rather licentious and anarchic than austere or "spiritual." the pre-protestant movements of the béguines, beghards, and lollards, beginning well, had turned out worse than the orders of friars in the south; and the decorous "brethren of the common lot" were in the main "good churchmen," only a minority accepting protestantism.[ ] in face of the established formulas concerning the innate spirituality of the teuton, and of the play of his "conscience" in his course at the reformation, there stand the historic facts that in the teutonic world alone was the reformation accompanied by widespread antinomianism, debauchery, and destructive violence. in france, spain, and italy there were no such movements as the anabaptist, which so far as it could go was almost a dissolution of sane society.[ ] from holland that movement drew much of its strength and leadership, even as, in a previous age, the antinomian movement of tanquelin had there had its main success.[ ] such was the standing of dutch protestantism in ; and no edict against heresy could be more searching and merciless than that drawn up by charles in [ ] without losing any upper-class loyalty. philip did but strive to carry it out.[ ] had philip, further, maintained a prospect of chronic war for the nobility of the netherlands, the accruing chances of wealth[ ] would in all likelihood have sufficed to keep them loyal. in the early wars of his reign with france immense gains had been made by them in the way of ransoms and booty. when these ceased, luxury continuing, embarrassment became general.[ ] but when philip's energies were seen to be mainly bent on killing out heresy, the discontented nobles began to lean to the side of the persecuted commonalty. at the first formation of the confederacy of the "beggars" in , almost the only zealous protestant among the leaders was william's impetuous brother louis of nassau, a calvinist by training, who had for comrade the bibulous brederode. the name of "gueux," given to the malcontents in contempt by the councillor berlaimont, had direct application to the known poverty or embarrassment of the great majority.[ ] there was thus undisguisedly at work in the netherlands the great economic force which had brought about "the reformation" in all the teutonic countries; and the needy nobles insensibly grew protestant as it became more and more clear that only the lands of the church could restore their fortunes.[ ] this holds despite the fact that the more intelligent protestantism which latterly spread among the people was the comparatively democratic form set up by calvin, which reached the low countries through france, finding the readier reception among the serious because of the prestige accruing to its austerity as against the moral disrepute which now covered the german forms. [as to the proportional success of lutheranism and calvinism, see motley, pp. , ; and grattan, pp. , . (on p. of grattan there is a transposition of "second" and "third" groups, which the context corrects.) motley, an inveterate celtophobe, is at pains to make out that the walloons rebelled first and were first reconciled to rome, "exactly like their celtic ancestors, fifteen centuries earlier." he omits to comment on the fact that it was only the french form of protestantism, that of calvin, that became viable in the netherlands at all, or on the fact that indecent anabaptism flourished mainly in friesland; though he admits that the lutheran movement left all religious rights in the hands of the princes, the people having to follow the creed of their rulers. the "racial" explanation is mere obscurantism, here as always. the walloons of south flanders were first affected simply because they were first in touch with huguenotism. that they were never converted in large numbers to protestantism is later admitted by motley himself (p. ), who thereupon speaks of the "intense attachment to the roman ceremonial which distinguished the walloon population." thus his earlier statement that they had rebelled against "papal rome" is admittedly false. they had rebelled simply against the spanish tyranny. yet the false statement is left standing--one more illustration of the havoc that may be worked in a historian's intelligence by a prejudice. (for other instances see, in the author's volume _the saxon and the celt_, the chapters dealing with mommsen and burton.) it was the teutonic-speaking city populations of north flanders and brabant who became protestants in mass after the troubles had begun (motley, p. ). when the walloon provinces withdrew from the combination against spain, the cities of ghent, antwerp, bruges, and ypres joined the dutch union of utrecht. they were one and all reduced by the skill and power of alexander of parma, who thereupon abolished the freedom of protestant worship. the protestants fled in thousands to england and the dutch provinces, the remaining population, albeit mostly teutonic, becoming catholic. at this moment one-and-a-half of the four-and-a-half millions of dutch are catholics; while in belgium, where there are hardly any protestants, the flemish-speaking and french-speaking populations are nearly equal in numbers. van kampen, who anticipated motley in disparaging the walloons as being frenchly fickle (_geschichte_, i, ), proceeds to contend that even the flemings are more excitable than the dutch and other teutons; but he notes later that as the dutch poet cats was much read and imitated in belgium, he was thus proved to have expressed the spirit of the whole netherlands (ii, ). once more, then, the racial theory collapses.] thus the systematic savagery of the inquisition under philip, for which the people at first blamed not at all the king but his flemish minister, cardinal granvelle, served rather to make a basis and pretext for organised revolt than directly to kindle it. in so far as the people spontaneously resorted to violence, in the image-breaking riots, they compromised and imperilled the nationalist movement in the act of precipitating it. the king's personal equation, finally, served to make an enemy of the masterly william of orange, who, financially embarrassed like the lesser nobility,[ ] could have been retained as an administrator by a wise monarch. a matter so overlaid with historical declamation is hard to set in a clear light; but it may serve to say of william that he was made a "patriot," as was robert the bruce, by stress of circumstances;[ ] and that in the one case as in the other it was exceptional character and capacity that made patriotism a success;[ ] william in particular having to maintain himself against continual domestic enmity, patrician as well as popular. nothing short of the ferocity and rapacity of the spanish attack, indeed, could have long united the netherlands. the first confederacy dissolved at the approach of alva, who, strong in soldiership but incapable of a statesmanlike settlement, drove the dutch provinces to extremities by his cruelty, caused a hundred thousand artisans and traders to fly with their industry and capital, exasperated even the catholic ministers in flanders by his proposed taxes, and finally by imposing them enraged into fresh revolt the people he had crushed and terrorised, till they were eager to offer the sovereignty to the queen of england. when requesens came with pacificatory intentions, it was too late; and the pacification of ghent ( ) was but a breathing-space between grapples. what finally determined the separation and independence of the dutch provinces was their maritime strength. antwerp, trading largely on foreign bottoms, represented wealth without the then indispensable weapons. dutch success begins significantly with the taking of brill ( ) by the gang of william van der marck, mostly pirates and ruffians, whose methods william of orange could not endure.[ ] but they had shown the military basis for the maritime states. it was the dutch fleet that prevented parma's from joining "the" armada under medina-sidonia,[ ] thereby perhaps saving england. such military genius and energy as parma's might have made things go hard with the dutch states had he lived, or had he not been called off against his judgment to fight in france; but his death well balanced the assassination of william of orange, who had thus far been the great sustainer and welder of the movement of independence. plotted against and vilified by the demagogues of ghent, betrayed by worthless fellow nobles, teutonic and french alike; chronically insulted in his own person and humiliated in that of his brother john, whom the states treated with unexampled meanness; stupidly resisted in his own leadership by the same states, whose egoism left maestricht to its fate when he bade them help, and who cast on him the blame when it fell; thwarted and crippled by the fanaticism and intolerant violence of the protestant mobs of the towns; bereaved again and again in the vicissitude of the struggle, william turned to irrelevance all imputations of self-seeking; and in his unfailing sagacity and fortitude he finally matches any aristocrat statesman in history. doubtless he would have served philip well had philip chosen him and trusted him. but as it lay in one thoroughly able man, well placed for prestige in a crisis, to knit and establish a new nation, so it lay in one fanatical dullard[ ] to wreck half of his own empire, with the greatest captains of his age serving him; and to bring his fabled treasury to ruin while his despised rebels grew rich. as to the vice of the dutch constitution, the principle of the supremacy of "state rights," see m'cullagh, p. ; motley, _rise_, pp. , (pt. vi, ch. ii, _end_), and _united netherlands_, ed. , iv, . wicquefort (_l'histoire des provinces-unies_, la haye, , pp. , ), following grotius, laid stress long ago on the fact that the estates of each province recognised no superior, not even the entire body of the republic. it was only the measure of central government set up in the burgundo-austrian and spanish periods that made the seven provinces capable of enough united action to repel spanish rule during a chronic struggle of eighty years. cp. van kampen (i, ), who points out (p. ) that the word "state" first appears in holland in the fifteenth century. it arose in flanders in the thirteenth, and in brabant in the fourteenth. only in , after some years of war, did the united provinces set up a general executive council. in the same year the prince of orange was chosen sovereign (motley, pp. , ). § . _the supremacy of dutch commerce_ the conquest of flanders by alexander of parma, reducing its plains to wolf-haunted wildernesses, and driving the great mass of the remaining artisans from its ruined towns,[ ] helped to consummate the prosperity of the united provinces, who took over the industry of ghent with the commerce of antwerp.[ ] getting the start of all northern europe in trade, they had become at the date of their assured independence the chief trading state in the world. whatever commercial common sense the world had yet acquired was there in force. and inasmuch as the wealth and strength of these almost landless states, with their mostly poor soil and unavoidably heavy imposts, depended so visibly on quantity of trade turnover, they not only continued to offer a special welcome to all immigrants, but gradually learned to forego the congenial protestant strife of sects. it was indeed a reluctantly-learned lesson. even as local patriotisms constantly tended to hamper unity during the very period of struggle, so the primary spirit of self-assertion set the ruling calvinistic party upon persecuting not only catholics and lutherans, but the new heresy of arminianism:[ ] so little does "patriotic" warfare make for fraternity in peace. the judicial murder of the statesman john van olden barneveldt ( ) at the hands of maurice of orange, whom he had guarded in childhood and trained to statesmanship, was accomplished as a sequel to the formal proscription of the arminian heresy in the synod of dort; and barneveldt was formally condemned for "troubling god's church" as well as on the charge of treason.[ ] on the same pretexts grotius was thrown into prison; and the freedom of the press was suspended.[ ] it was doubtless the shame of the memory of the execution of barneveldt (the true founder of the republic as such),[ ] on an absolutely false charge of treason, and the observation of how, as elsewhere, persecution drove away population, that mainly wrought for the erection of tolerance (at least as between protestant sects) into a state principle. the best side of the dutch polity was its finance, which was a lesson to all europe. already in the early stages of the struggle with spain, the states were able on credit to make war, in virtue of their character for commercial honour. where the king of spain, with all his revenues mortgaged past hope,[ ] got from the pope an absolution from the payment of interest on the sums borrowed from spanish and genoese merchants, and so ruined his credit,[ ] the dutch issued tin money and paper money, and found it readily pass current with friends and foes.[ ] of all the protestant countries, excepting switzerland, the dutch states alone disposed of their confiscated church lands in the public interest.[ ] there was indeed comparatively little to sell,[ ] and the money was sorely needed to carry on the war; but the transaction seems to have been carried through without any corruption. it was the suggestion of what might be accomplished in statecraft by the new _expertise_ of trade, forced into the paths of public spirit and checked by a stress of public opinion such as had never come into play in venice. against such a power as spain, energy ruled by unteachable unintelligence, a world-empire financed by the expedients of provincial feudalism, the dutch needed only an enduring resentment to sustain them, and this philip amply elicited. had he spent on light cruisers for the destruction of dutch commerce the treasure he wasted on the armadas against england and on his enormous operations by land, typified in the monstrous siege of antwerp, he might have struck swiftly and surely at the very arteries of dutch life; but in yielding to them the command of their primary source and channel of wealth, the sea, he insured their ultimate success. in the franco-spanish war of - the french cruisers nearly ruined the herring fishery of holland and zealand;[ ] and it was doubtless the memory of that plight that set the states on maintaining predominant power at sea.[ ] throughout the war, which from first to last spread over eighty years, the dutch commerce grew while that of spain dwindled. under charles v, flanders and brabant alone had paid nearly two-thirds of the whole imperial taxation of the netherlands;[ ] but after a generation or two the united provinces must have been on an equality of financial resources with those left under spanish rule, even in a state of peace. yet in this posture of things there had grown up a burden which represented, in the warring commercial state, the persistent principle of class parasitism; for at the peace of münster ( ) the funded public debt of the province of holland alone amounted to nearly , , florins, bearing interest at five per cent.[ ] of this annual charge, the bulk must have gone into the pockets of the wealthier citizens, who had thus secured a mortgage on the entire industry of the nation. all the while, holland was nominally rich in "possessions" beyond sea. when, in , philip annexed portugal, with which the dutch had hitherto carried on a profitable trade for the eastern products brought as tribute to lisbon, they began to cast about for an asiatic trade of their own, first seeking vainly for a north-east passage. the need was heightened when in philip, who as a rule ignored the presence of dutch traders in his ports under friendly flags, arrested all the dutch shipping he could lay hands on;[ ] and when in he closed to them the port of lisbon, he forced them to a course which his successors bitterly rued. in they commenced trading by the cape passage to the indies, and a fleet sent out by spain to put down their enterprise was as usual defeated.[ ] then arose a multitude of companies for the east indian trade, which in were formed by the government into a great semi-official joint-stock concern, at once commercial and military, reminiscent of the hanseatic league. the result was a long series of settlements and conquests. amboyna and the moluccas were seized from the portuguese, now subordinate to spain; java, where a factory was founded in , was in the next generation annexed; henry hudson, an english pilot in the dutch company's service, discovered the hudson river and bay in , and founded new amsterdam about . in was formed the dutch west india company, which in fifteen years fitted out ships of trade and war, captured from the spanish and portuguese, with cargoes valued at , , florins, and conquered the greater part of what had been the portuguese empire in brazil. no such commercial development had before been seen in europe. about , according to guicciardini,[ ] ships had been known to come and go in a day from antwerp harbour in the island of walcheren; but in the spring of , it is recorded, ships engaged solely in the baltic trade discharged cargoes at amsterdam;[ ] and in , according to delacourt, there sailed from the ports of holland in three days, on the eastward trade alone, or ships and , herring boats.[ ] at the date of the peace of münster these figures were left far behind, whence had arisen a reluctance to end the war, under which commerce so notably flourished. many hollanders, further, had been averse to peace in the belief that it would restore antwerp and injure their commerce, even as prince maurice of orange, the republic's general and stadthouder, had been averse to it as likely to lessen his power and revenue.[ ] but between and the trade increased by fifty per cent.,[ ] holland taking most of the spanish trade from the shipping of england and the hansa, and even carrying much of the trade between spain and her colonies. when the dutch had thus a mercantile marine of , sail and , men, the english carried only , men; and the dutch shipping was probably greater than that of all the rest of europe together.[ ] this body of trade, as has been seen, was built up by a state which, broadly speaking, had a surplus wealth-producing power in only one direction, that of fishing; and even of its fishing, much was done on the coasts of other nations. in that industry, about , it employed over , men; and the greenland whale fishery, which was a monopoly from to , began to expand rapidly when set free,[ ] till in it employed ships.[ ] for the rest, though the country exported dairy produce, its total food product was not equal to its consumption; and as it had no minerals and no vineyards, its surplus wealth came from the four sources of fishing, freightage, extorted colonial produce, and profits on the handling of goods bought and sold. _par excellence_, it was, in the phrase of louis xiv, the nation of shopkeepers, of middlemen; and its long supremacy in the business of buying cheap and selling dear was due firstly to economy of means and consumption, and secondarily to command of accumulated money capital at low rates of interest. the sinking of interest was the first sign that the limits to its commercial expansion were being reached; but it belonged to the conditions that, with or without "empire," its advantage must begin to fall away as soon as rival states were able to compete with it in the economies of "production" in the sense of transport and transfer. in such economies the dutch superiority grew out of the specially practical basis of their marine--habitual fishing and the constant use of canals. there is no better way than the former of building up seamanship; and just as the portuguese grew from hardy fishers to daring navigators, so the dutch grew from thrifty fishers and bargemen to thrifty handlers of sea-freight, surpassing in economy the shippers of england as they did in seamanship the marine of spain. broadly speaking, the navies which owed most to royal fostering--as those of spain, france, and in part england--were the later to reach efficiency in the degree of their artificiality; and the loss of one great spanish navy after another in storms must be held to imply a lack of due experience on the part of their officers. one of the worst military mistakes of spain was the creation of great galleons in preference to small cruisers. the sight of the big ships terrorised the dutch once, in ; but as all existing seacraft had been built up in small vessels, there was no sufficient science for the navigation of the great ones in stress of weather, or even for the building of them on sound lines. the english and dutch, on the other hand, fought in vessels of the kind they had always been wont to handle, increasing their size only by slow degrees. in the reign of henry viii, again, nothing came of the english expeditions of discovery fitted out by him (schanz, _englische handelspolitik_, i, ), but private voyages were successfully made by traders (_id._ pp. , ). in the seventeenth century, however, and until far on in the eighteenth, all dutch shipping was more economically managed than the english. in all likelihood the dutch traders knew and improved upon the systematic control of ship-construction which the venetians and genoese had first copied from the byzantines, and in turn developed. (above, p. .) raleigh was one of the first to point out that the broad dutch boats carried more cargo with fewer hands than those of any other nation (_observations touching trade_, in _works_, ed. , viii, ). later in the century petty noted that the dutch practised freight-economies and adaptations of every kind, having different sorts of vessels for different kinds of traffic (_essays in political arithmetic_ [ ], ed. , pp. , , , ). this again gave them the primacy in shipbuilding for the whole of europe (_mémoires de jean de witt_, ptie. i, ch. vi), though they imported all the materials for the purpose. when colbert began navy-building, his first care was to bring in dutch shipwrights (dussieux, _Étude biographique sur colbert_, , p. ). compare, as to the quick sailing of the dutch, motley, _united netherlands_, ed. , iv, . in the next century the english marine had similar economic advantages over the french, which was burdened by royal schemes for multiplying seamen (see tucker, _essay on trade_, th ed. p. ). the frugality which pervaded the whole of dutch life may, however, have had one directly disastrous effect. sir william temple noted that the common people were poorly fed (_observations upon the united provinces_, ch. iv: works, ed. , i, , ); and though their fighting ships were manned by men of all nations, the tendency was to feed them in the native fashion. such a practice would tell fatally in the sea-fights with the english. cp. gardiner, _commonwealth and protectorate_, ii, . in addition to this expertness in handling, the dutch traders seem to have bettered the lesson taught them by the practice of the hansa, as to the importance of keeping up a high character for probity. at a time when british goods were open to more or less general suspicion as being of short measure or bad quality,[ ] the dutch practice was to insure by inspection the right quality and quantity of all packed goods, especially the salted herrings, which were still the largest source of dutch income.[ ] and that nothing might be left undone to secure the concourse of commerce to their ports, they maintained under almost every stress[ ] of financial hardship the principle of minimum duties on imports of every description. the one notable exception to this policy of practically free trade--apart from the monopoly of the trade in the indies--was the quite supererogatory veto on the importation of fish from other countries at a time when most of the fishing of northern europe was in dutch hands.[ ] where imports were desirable they were encouraged. thus it came about that landless amsterdam was the chief european storehouse for grain, and treeless holland the greatest centre of the timber trade. before such a spectacle the average man held up his hands and confessed the incomparable ingenuity of the hollanders. but others saw and stated the causation clearly enough. "many writing on this subject," remarks sir william petty, "do magnifie the hollanders as if they were more, and all other nations less, than men, as to the matters of trade and policy; making them angels, and all others fools, brutes, and sots, as to those particulars; whereas," he continues, giving a sound lesson in social science to his generation, "i take the foundation of their achievements to be originally in the situation of the country, whereby they do things inimitable by others, and have advantages whereof others are incapable."[ ] and sir josiah child, of the same generation, declared similarly against transcendentalism in such matters. "if any," he roundly declares, "shall tell me it is the nature of those people to be thrifty, i answer, _all men by nature are alike_; it is only laws, custom, and education that differ men; their nature and disposition, and the disposition of all people in the world, proceed from their laws."[ ] for "laws" read "circumstances and institutions," adding reservations as to climate and temperament and variation of _individual_ capacity and bias, and the proposition is the essence of all sociology. economic lessons which petty and child could not master have since been learned; but their higher wisdom has hardly yet been assimilated. the sufficient proof that holland had no abnormal enlightenment even in commerce was that, like her rivals, she continued to maintain the system of monopoly companies. her "empire" in the east, to which was falsely ascribed so much of her wealth, in reality stood for very little sound commerce. the east india company being conducted on high monopoly lines, the profits were made rather through the smallness than the greatness of the trade done. thus, while the company paid enormous dividends,[ ] the imports of spice were kept at a minimum, in order to maintain the price, large quantities being actually destroyed for the purpose. for a time they contrived to raise pepper to double the old portuguese price.[ ] such methods brought it about that when the republic had in all , sail, the east india trade employed only ten or twelve ships.[ ] all the while the small class of capitalists who owned the shares were able to satisfy the people that the merely monetary and factitious riches thus secured to the company's shareholders was a form of public wealth.[ ] it is a complete error to say, as did professor seeley (_expansion of england_, p. ), that holland "made her fortune in the world" because the war with spain "threw open to her attack the whole boundless possessions of her antagonist in the new world, which would have been closed to her in peace. by conquest she made for herself an empire, and this empire made her rich." in the first place it was not in the new world that she mainly sought her empire, but in the east indies, in the sphere of the portuguese conquests. her hold of brazil lasted only from to , and was not a great source of wealth, though she captured much spanish and portuguese shipping. but even her eastern trade was, as we have seen, small in quantity, and as a source of wealth was not to be compared with the herring fishery. in john keymor declared that more wealth was produced by the northern fisheries "in one year than the king of spain hath in four years out of the indies" (_observations made upon the dutch fishing about the year _--reprint in _phoenix_, , i, ). the dutch takings in six months' fishing were then reckoned at , , barrels, valued at as many pounds sterling (_id._ p. ); the fishing fleet numbered , sail of all kinds, with over , tenders, out of a roughly estimated total of , ; while the whole indian fleet is stated at only or , employing , or , men (_id._ p. ), as against a total of some , of dutch seafaring population. howell, writing in (ed. bennett, , vol. i, ), also puts the amsterdam ships in the indian trade at . professor seeley's statement cannot have proceeded on any comparison of the european dutch trade with the revenue from the conquered "empire." it stands for an endorsement of the vulgar delusion that "possessions" are the great sources of a nation's wealth, though seeley elsewhere (p. ) protests against the "bombastic language of this school," and notes that "england is not, directly at least, any the richer" for her connection with her "dependencies." against the class-interest behind the east india company the republican party, as led and represented by de witt, were strongly arrayed. they could point to the expansion of the greenland whaling trade that had followed on the abolition of the original monopoly in that adventure--an increase of from ten to fifteen times the old quantity of product[ ]--and the treatise expounding their policy strongly condemned the remaining monopolies of all kinds. but there was no sufficient body of enlightened public opinion to support the attack; and the menaced interests spontaneously turned to the factor which could best maintain them against such pressure--the military power of the house of orange. the capitalist monopolists and "imperialists" of the republic were thus the means first of artificially limiting its economic basis, and later of subverting its republican constitution--a disservice which somewhat outweighs the credit earned by them, as by the merchant oligarchies of venice, for an admirable management of their army.[ ] § . _home and foreign policy_ the vital part played by william the silent at the outset of the war of independence gave his house a decisive predominance in the affairs of the republic, grudging as had often been its support of him during life. as always, the state of war favoured the rule of the imperator, once the institution had been established. fanatical clergy and populace alike were always loud in support of the lineage of the deliverer; and with their help william's son maurice was able to put to death barneveldt. then and afterwards, accordingly, war was more or less the orange interest; and after the peace of münster we find the republican party sedulous at once to keep the peace and to limit the power of the hereditary stadthouder. the latter, william ii, aged twenty-four, having on his side the great capitalists, tried force in a fashion which promised desperate trouble,[ ] but died at the crisis ( ), his only child being born a week after his death. it was substantially the pressure of the orange interest, thus situated, that led to the first naval war between holland and england, both then republics, and both protestant. orangeist mobs, zealous for charles i, as the father of the princess of orange, insulted the english republican ambassadors who had come to negotiate on cromwell's impossible scheme for a union of the two republics; and the prompt result was the navigation act, intended[ ] to hurt dutch commerce. it was really powerless for that purpose; but the dutch people in general believed otherwise, and, being not only independent but bellicose, they were as ready as puritan england for a struggle at sea. while, however, they held their ground in the main as fighters, they suffered heavily in their trade. by they had lost over sixteen hundred ships through english privateering; so that the two years of the english war had done them more injury than the eighty years of the spanish.[ ] accordingly, though forced again to war by charles ii, the republican party put it as a maxim of policy that dutch prosperity depended on peace.[ ] it is nevertheless one of the tragedies of their history that john de witt, the great statesman who owed most heed to this maxim, was inveigled by the english government into an ill-judged alliance against france,[ ] and was then deserted by england, whereupon the republic was invaded by france, and de witt was murdered by his own people. of all the nations of europe the dutch were then the best educated; but no more than ancient athens had their republic contrived to educate its mob. the result was a frightful moral catastrophe. it is easy at this time of day to find fault with de witt's policy of two hundred years ago, but hard to reckon aright the practical possibilities of his situation. suffice it to say that the formation of the triple alliance of holland, england, and sweden against louis xiv proved a ruinous mistake. france had supported the republic against spain; and louis had stood by it when charles ii invited him to join in dismembering it. yet, after sending its fleet up the medway and forcing charles to the humiliating peace of breda, and in the full knowledge that he hated the republic which had harboured and criticised him, de witt was persuaded by sir william temple, the english ambassador, to sign, albeit reluctantly,[ ] a treaty of union ( ) which made france a strenuous enemy, and from which charles nevertheless instantly drew back, making secretly a treacherous treaty with louis, and leaving holland open to french invasion. it was the bane of the diplomacy of the age to be perpetually planning alliances on all hands by way of maintaining the "balance of power"; and de witt, while justly suspicious of england, could not be content to drop the system. his excuse was that louis was avowedly bent on the acquisition or control of the spanish netherlands; and that after that there would be small security for the republic. yet he had better have remained the ally of france than leant on the broken reeds of the friendship of spain and the english king. charles needed only to appeal to the english east india company, whose monopoly was pitted against that of the dutch company, to secure a parliamentary backing for a fresh war with holland; and the sudden invasion of the republic by france ( ) was the ruin of the de witts. it was an orange mob that murdered them; and the young william of orange pensioned those who had formally accused them of treason. the action of charles in had been a masterpiece of baseness. after secretly betraying his dutch allies to louis, he caused his own fleet, before war had been declared, to attack a rich dutch merchant fleet in the channel, with the worthy result of a capture of only two ships. his declaration of war, when made, included such pretexts as that there is "scarce a town in their territories that is not filled with abusive pictures and false historical medals and pillars," which "alone were cause sufficient for our displeasure, and the resentment of all our subjects"; and he alleged breach of a non-existent article in the treaty of breda.[ ] it was in this disgraceful war that shaftesbury gave out as the true policy of england the maxim of cato--_delenda est carthago_--and the end of it was that in , after a war without triumphs, in which finally the english fleet under rupert was defeated by that of the dutch while the french fleet stood idly by ( ), the betrayed betrayer made peace with holland once more ( ). the hostility of france on the other hand practically ended dutch republicanism, though at the same time it brought about the wreck of the "empire" of louis xiv. had he accepted the submission offered by de witt, he might have made a sure ally of holland as against england. but his policy of conquest, insolently formulated by his minister louvois, first put the dutch government in the hands of the prince of orange, and then turned the english interest, despite the king, against france. it may be taken as a law of european politics that any power which arrogantly sets itself to overbear the others will itself, in the course of one or two generations at furthest, be beaten to its knees. the end of the insolent aggression of louis came when, after william had become king of england and set up a new tradition of protestant union against france, the military genius of marlborough in the next reign reduced france to extremities. meanwhile holland was past its period of commercial climax, past the ideals of de witt, past republicanism for another era. henceforth it was to be subservient to its stadthouder, and to become ultimately a kingdom, on the failure of the republican movement at the french revolution. § . _the decline of commercial supremacy_ it follows from what has been seen of the conditions of its success that the dutch trade could not continue to eclipse that of rival states with greater natural sources of wealth when once those states had learned to compete with dutch methods. but it belonged to the culture-conditions that the rival states should take long to learn the lesson, and that the dutch should be the first to adapt themselves to new circumstances. the blunders of their enemies lengthened the dutch lease. louis xiv gave one last vast demonstration of what catholicism can avail to wreck states by revoking the edict of nantes ( ), and so driving from france a quarter of a million of industrious subjects, part of whom went to england, many to switzerland, but most to holland, conveying their capital and their handicrafts with them. the stroke hastened the financial as well as the military exhaustion of france in the next twenty-five years. england, on the other hand, maintained its trade monopolies, which, with the system of imposts, drove over to the dutch and the french much trade that a better policy might have kept.[ ] but all the dutch advantages were consummated in the command of money capital at low rates of interest, and consequent capacity to trade for small profits. this accumulation of money capital was the correlative of the main conditions of dutch commerce. a community drawing its income--save for the great resource of fishing--from its middleman-profits and freightage, and from its manufacture of other nations' raw products in competition with their own manufacture, must needs save credit capital for its own commerce' sake. thus, whereas the earlier flemings were luxurious in their expenditure,[ ] the dutch middle-class were the most frugal in north-western europe,[ ] their one luxury being the laudable one of picture-buying. but when, through mere increase of population and consequently of trade, interest gradually fell[ ] in the rival communities, who in turn could practise fishing, who had better harbours, who extended their marine commerce, began to manufacture for themselves, and had natural resources for barter and production that holland wholly lacked, the dutch trade slowly but surely fell away. and as against the sustaining force of their frugality and their systematic utilisation of their labour-power, the dutch lay under burdens which outweighed even those imposed on france and england by bad government. not only did the national debt force a multiplication of imposts on every article of home consumption,[ ] but the constant cost of the maintenance of the sea-dykes was a grievous natural tax from which there was no escape. nor would the creditor class on any score consent to forego their bond. thus it came about that after the peace of utrecht ( ), which left holland deeper in debt than ever, there was an admitted decline in the national turnover from decade to decade. it is one of the fallacies of the non-economic interpretation of history to speak of the united provinces as thenceforth showing a moral "languor";[ ] the rational explanation is that their total economic nutrition was curtailed by the competing environment. yet it must be admitted that the merchant class themselves, when called on by the stadthouder william iv to compare notes as to the decline, showed little recognition of the natural causes beyond dwelling on the effect of heavy taxes, which had been insisted on long before by the party of de witt.[ ] dwelling as they do on the value of the old maxims of toleration, which were now beside the case, and failing to realise that the sheer produce of the other countries was a decisive factor in competition, they seem to invite such a reaction in economic theory as was set up by the french physiocrats, who laid their finger on this as the central fact in industrial life. france, indeed, had learned other vital lessons after the great defeat of louis xiv. nothing in the history of that age is more remarkable than the fashion in which the immense blunder of the revocation of the edict of nantes was _pro tanto_ cured under the regency and under louis xv by the infiltration of fresh population. dean tucker noted, what the dutch merchants apparently did not, that "flanders, all germany on this side of the rhine, switzerland, savoy, and some parts of italy, pour their supernumerary hands every year into france" (_essay on trade_, th ed. p. ). at that time ( ) there were said to be , swiss and germans in lyons alone, and the numbers of immigrants in all the commercial towns were increasing (_id._ pp. , ), the government having become "particularly gentle and indulgent to foreigners." at that period, too, the french peasantry were prolific (_id._ p. ). above all, the dutch provinces were bound to be outclassed in manufactures by england when england began to manufacture by machinery and by steam. anciently well-forested,[ ] they had long been nearly bare of wood, so that their fuel had become, as it still is, scarce and expensive.[ ] they had done wonders with windmills; but when coal came into play as driving power the coal-producing state was bound to triumph. it must, however, be kept on record that when england's commerce had thus begun to distance that of her old rival in virtue of her mere economic basis, englishmen were none the less ready to resort to wanton aggression. throughout the eighteenth century the ideal of monopoly markets continued to rule in europe; and that ideal it was that inspired the struggles of france and england for the possession of india and north america. in the course of those imperialist wars the government of the elder pitt gave to privateers the right to confiscate, as "contraband of war," nearly all manner of commerce between france and other nations, and in particular that of holland, pitt's aim being to force the dutch into his alliance against france. the injury thus wrought to their trade was enormous. "perhaps at no time in history were more outrageous injuries perpetrated on a neutral nation than those which the dutch suffered from the english during the time of the elder pitt's administration."[ ] it was the method of imperialism; and the usual sequel was at hand in the revolt of the american colonies. in that crisis also, because the dutch council of state, despite the wish of the stadthouder, refused to take part against the colonies, the english government as before gave letters of marque to privateers, and told the plundered dutch that if they increased their fleet to protect their own commerce the action would be taken as hostile. "in the english commander, fielding, captured the dutch mercantile fleet, with four dutch men-of-war; and in yorke, the english ambassador at the hague, demanded subsidies from the states, whom his government had just before plundered."[ ] needless to say, dutch wealth and power had greatly dwindled before this insult was ventured on by the rival people. holland's primary source of wealth, the fisheries, had been in large part appropriated by other nations, in particular by britain, now her great competitor in that as well as in other directions.[ ] but all the while holland's own "empire" was a main factor in her weakening. deaf to the doctrine of de witt, her rulers had continued to keep the east indian trade on a monopoly basis, ruling their spice islands as cruelly and as blindly[ ] as any rival could have done; and it was the false economics and false finance bound up with their east india company that ruined the great bank of amsterdam, which at the french revolution was found to have gambled away all its funds in the affairs of the company, in breach of the oath of the magistrates, who were the sworn custodians of the treasure. so situated, the government could or would make no effort in the old fashion against english tyranny. the state's economic basis being in large part gone, and the capitalistic interest incapable of unifying or inspiring the nation, holland had, so to speak, to begin life over again. but it would be a delusion to suppose that the political decline meant misery; on the contrary, there was much less of that in holland than in triumphant england. there were still wealthy citizens, as indeed always happens in times of decline of general wealth. at that very period "the dutch were the largest creditors of any nation in europe";[ ] and smith in testified that holland was "in proportion to the extent of the land and the number of its inhabitants by far the richest country in europe," adding that it "has accordingly the greatest share of the carrying trade of europe,"[ ] and again that its capitalists had much money in british stocks. but these were not as broad foundations as the old; nor were they easily expansible, or even maintainable. as soon, indeed, as the rise of other national debts enabled them to invest abroad, they did so. temple has recorded how, when any part of the home debt was being paid off in his time, the scripholders "received it with tears, not knowing how to dispose of it to interest with such safety and ease." england soon began to relieve them of such anxiety. but though holland could thus gain from the annual interest-tribute paid by borrowing states, as england does at this moment, such income in a time of shrinking industry stands only for the idle life of the endowed class, a factor neither industrially nor intellectually wholesome. at the beginning of the seventeenth century keymor, an english observer who studied dutch commercial life closely, exclaimed: "and not a beggar there; everyone getting his own living is admirable to behold."[ ] this seems to have been an exaggeration, since in we find howell praising the "strictness of their laws against mendicants, and their hospitals of all sorts for young and old, both for the relief of the one and the employment of the other."[ ] later there grew up, however carefully provided for,[ ] a notably large pauper population; and so late as laing, who liked holland, wrote of it as "a country full of capitalists and paupers."[ ] in the main, modern dutch life has of necessity had to find sounder bases; and the chief feature in it during the past generation has been the new and great industrial expansion. § . _the culture evolution_ from first to last the culture-history of holland illustrates clearly enough the importance of the freer political life to the life of the mind. it is in the period of independence that holland begins to play a great part in european culture. previously, the multitude of popular "chambers of rhetoric,"[ ] and so forth, yielded no fine fruits; but in the stress of self-government the republic begins to produce scholars, thinkers, and men of science, who affect those of surrounding nations. already in , when nothing of the kind existed in france or england, a dutch literary academy published a dutch grammar;[ ] and the republic was "the peculiarly learned state of europe throughout the seventeenth century,"[ ] producing more of original classical research and scholarly teaching in its small sphere than any other. freedom and endowment of university teaching brought in such germans as gronovius and graevius; and leibnitz looked to little holland as a model in many things for backward germany.[ ] printing became one of the industries of the country; and the elzevirs were long the great classic publishers for europe. free universities and a free press, indeed, were the main conditions of the dutch classical renaissance. the conditions of progress in _belles lettres_, on the other hand, being less propitious, the development was inferior. all europe could buy latin books printed in holland; but few foreigners read dutch, and the finer native literature was sustained only by the necessarily small class which had both leisure and culture. the very devotion to culture which, as was claimed by grotius, made the well-to-do dutch in his youth the greatest students of languages in europe,[ ] wrought rather for the importation of foreign literature than the fostering or elevation of the native. so that though the catholic poetess anna bijns,[ ] and later the catholic spreghel, "the dutch ennius" ( - ), and hooft, "the dutch tacitus" ( - ), made worthy beginnings, there was no great florescence. in the terms of the case, the two former represent the general catholic culture-influence; and hooft, eminent alike as poet and historian, owed his artistic stimulus to the three youthful years he spent in italy studying italian literature.[ ] of the more celebrated native poets, cats is prosaic, though to this day highly popular, suiting as he does the plane of taste developed under a strenuous commercialism; and vondel alone, by his influence on milton, enters into the blood of outside european literature. fanatical calvinism,[ ] again, was not primarily favourable to philosophic thought; and it is to the influence of descartes, who made holland his home for many years, that the possibility of the later great performance of spinoza is to be ascribed. but the impulse, once given, and sustained by such an atmosphere as was set up by bayle and other french refugees, developed a new culture-force; and in the eighteenth century the dutch press was a disseminator of french and english rationalism, as well as of the classic erudition which still flourished. all along, though none of the supreme names in science is dutch, scientific culture was in general higher than elsewhere.[ ] such influences made afresh for a revival of native literature, and throughout the eighteenth century it is the foreign stimulus that is seen at work. thus van effen ( - ) read much english and wrote much french, but was also the best dutch writer of his time; the brothers van haren ( - ) were diplomatists, and friends of voltaire; and the two lady novelists, wolff and deken, produced their three admired books ( - ) under the influence of richardson and goethe. but as against these debts to foreign example, the dutch republic in its time of flower produced a great and markedly native body of art, which to this day ranks in its kind with that of the great age in italy. it may have been the example set in the spanish netherlands by the austrian archdukes, after the severance, that gave the lead to the dutch growth; but there is no imitation and nothing nationally second-rate in their total output. the flemish rubens ( - ) precedes by twenty-one years his pupil vandyck and the great spaniard velasquez, and by nearly thirty years the dutch rembrandt; but no four contemporary masters were ever more individual; and the dutch group of rembrandt, hals, van der helst, gerard dow, and the rest, will hold its own with the flemish swarm headed by rubens and vandyck. it is worth while in this connection to note afresh how closely is art florescence bound up with economic forces. dutch and flemish art, like italian, is in the first place substantially a product of economic demand, the commercial aristocracy of the netherlands commissioning and buying pictures as did the clerical aristocracy of italy. it has been denied that there is any economic explanation for the eventual arrest of great art in the netherlands; but when we note the special conditions of the case the economic explanation will be found decisive. great art, it is true, always tends to set up a convention, which is the stoppage of greatness; but even great art can so arrest progress only when the economic and social sphere is curtailed; and the dutch economic sphere, as we have seen, was practically non-expansive after the disaster of , which date also begins a new period of ruinous war for flanders. rembrandt died in . he and his contemporaries and their pupils had produced a body of painting immense in quantity; and the later and poorer generations, having such a body of classic work passed on to them, naturally and necessarily rested on their treasure. the population of the united provinces, estimated to have reached a million-and-a-half in the middle ages,[ ] had risen in the great period to three or three-and-a-half millions.[ ] from this figure it positively fell away in the eighteenth century.[ ] here then was a shrinking population, loaded with old and new debt and overwhelmed with taxes, consciously growing poorer, with no prospect of recovery, and already stocked with a multitude of pictures[ ] by great masters. that it should go on commissioning new pictures with the old munificence was impossible: it was more concerned to sell than to buy; and what demand had elicited lack of demand arrested. there is no clearer sociological case in history. § . _the modern situation_ after all that has come and gone, it is important to realise, in correction of the megalomaniac view of things, that holland is to-day literally larger,[ ] more populated,[ ] and more productive than she was in the "palmy days"; and that her colonial "empire," now administered on just principles, includes a population of over , , . over sixty years ago m'culloch wrote that "though their commerce be much decayed, the dutch, even at this moment, are _the richest and most comfortable people of europe_."[ ] the latter part of the statement would not be very far out to-day, though popular comfort perhaps does not now keep pace with population. otherwise it no longer holds. in the latter half of the nineteenth century there began a vigorous revival of dutch commerce and industry, holland becoming once more expansive. from to dutch exports, measured by weight, increased ninefold, imports sixfold, and transit trade over threefold; and the expansion steadily continues; the value of the transit trade rising from , million guilders in to , millions in ; while imports increased by nearly per cent and exports by per cent. much of this expansion appears to be due to the advantages accruing to holland as a free-trade country alongside of protectionist germany, whose far greater natural resources redound largely to the gain of the free-trading neighbour. in detail, the commercial situation of to-day is curiously like the old at many points. the debt is still relatively great--about £ , , sterling;[ ] and about a fourth of the whole expenditure is interest; another fourth going for "defence." always making the best of their soil, alike with roots and cereals, the people go on increasing the area under cultivation and the yield per hectare.[ ] still, as of old, much food and raw material is imported to be exported again[ ]--in large part to germany. fishing now employs only , men with over , [ ] boats; the annual product is valued at under £ , , ; and of over , clearances of vessels from dutch ports in only , were dutch, representing a total mercantile navy of only .[ ] but of dutch vessels engaged in the carrying trade between foreign ports there were , in ,[ ] with more than seven times the tonnage of the home navy. thus the nation still subsists largely by playing middleman, partly by manufactures, partly by dairy and other produce, little by fishing,[ ] but still largely by freightage. java does not figure as a source of revenue for holland, being administered in its own interest,[ ] with less taxation of the people than goes on in british india. of the conditions which in holland tell against increase of well-being, the most notable is the large birth-rate resulting there as elsewhere from the rapid modern expansion of industry. with a population less by , , than that of belgium, holland has annually a larger surplus of births over deaths. it may be interesting to compare dutch statistics with those of portugal and sweden, which have nearly the same population, as regards birth-rate and emigration. each of the three states at had slightly over or under , , inhabitants; and in slightly over or under , , . their marriages and their emigration were:-- --------------------------------------------------------------------- marriages. | emigration. ----------------------------------------+---------------------------- |portugal.| holland.| sweden.| portugal.| holland.|sweden. -----------+---------+---------+--------+----------+---------+------- | , | , | , | , | , | , | | | | | | , ,| | | | | | or | , | , | , | , | , | , --------------------------------------------------------------------- the emigration from portugal in was abnormal; but in the figures were , , and in they reached , . in sweden in the excess of births over deaths was as high as , . in portugal it was , ; a figure which in fell to , ; rising again to , in . in holland, the average excess in - was , ; in it had risen to , ; in to , . under such circumstances it needs the alleged doubling of dutch commerce between and , and the subsequent continued expansion, to maintain well-being. as it is, despite the tradition of good management of the poor, the number of the needy annually relieved temporarily or continuously by the charitable societies and communes[ ] appears to be always over five per cent. of the population--or about twice the average proportion of paupers in the united kingdom. the dutch figures of course do not stand for the same order of poverty; and there is certainly not in holland a proportional amount of the sordid misery that everywhere fringes the wealth of england. but it is clear that holland is becoming relatively over-populated; and that the industrial conditions are not making steadily for popular elevation, standing as they do for low wages and grinding competition in many occupations. nor are these conditions favourable in holland to general culture, as apart from forms of specialism, any more than in england. dutch experts in recognised studies latterly hold their own with any--witness the names of kuenen, tiele, van t'hoff, de goeje, de vries, dozy, kern, lorentz, waals--and the middle-class has probably a better average culture than prevails in england or the united states; but the lapsed republic has yet to prove how much a small state may achieve in the higher civilisation. meantime, it is plainly not smallness but too rapid increase in numbers that is the stumbling-block; and the possession of a relatively great "empire" in java does not avail, for holland any more than for england, to cure the social trouble at home. footnotes: [footnote : motley, _rise of the dutch republic_, -vol. ed. , p. . for details of the different invasions see david, _manuel de l'histoire de belgique_, , pp. , , , . cp. van kampen, _geschichte der niederlande_, ger. ed. i, - . wenzelburger notes that the "norsemen" included not only norwegians and danes, but saxons and even frisians (_geschichte der niederlande_, , i, ).] [footnote : dutch writers claim the invention for one of their nation in the fourteenth century (cp. m'culloch, _treatises_, p. ; rogers, _holland_, pp. , ). there is clear evidence, however, that fish-salting was carried on at yarmouth as early as , one peter chivalier being the patentee (see torrens m'cullagh's _industrial history of the free nations_, , ii, ; madox, _history of the exchequer_, ch. xiii, § , p. , cited by him; and macpherson, _annals of commerce_, , i, , ). the practice was very common in antiquity; see schürer, _jewish people in the time of christ_, eng. tr. div. ii, vol. i, p. .] [footnote : it is noteworthy that an english navy practically begins with king john, in whose reign it was that fishing began to flourish at yarmouth. see macpherson, _annals of commerce_, i, , , , .] [footnote : originally the name flanders covered only the territory of the city of bruges. it was extended with the extension of the domain of the counts of flanders (david, _manuel_, pp. , ).] [footnote : motley, p. ; grattan, pp. - , , . at the flemish cities were represented side by side with the nobles in the assembly of the provincial states. the same rights were acquired by the dutch cities in the next century.] [footnote : dykes existed as early as the roman period (blok, _geschiedenis van het nederlandsche volk_, groningen, , i, ; eng. tr. i, ; wenzelburger, _geschichte der niederlande_, , i, ). in the middle ages co-operative bodies took the work out of the church's hands (blok, pp. - ; tr. p. ).] [footnote : cp. torrens m'cullagh, _industrial history_, ii, , ; motley, p. . the counts of holland seem to have led the way in encouraging towns and population. but baldwin iii of flanders (_circa_ ) seems to have established yearly fairs free of tolls (de witt, _mémoires_, french tr., ed. . part i, ch. viii, p. ).] [footnote : compare the so-called _memoirs of john de witt_, french ed. ( e) , ch. iii, p. ; petty, _essays in political arithmetic_, ed. , p. ; torrens m'cullagh, as cited, ii, , - , - ; m'culloch, _treatises_, p. . english corn was frequently exported to the low countries, as against imported textiles, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries and early in the fifteenth (macpherson, _annals of commerce_, i, , ).] [footnote : keymor, _observations on the dutch fishing about the year _, reprinted in _the phoenix_, , i, , ; temple, _observations upon the united provinces_, cc. iii, vi ( ed. of _works_, i, , ).] [footnote : cp. de witt, pp. , ; torrens m'cullagh, _industrial history_, ii, , , , ; grattan, _netherlands_, p. ; blok, as above cited.] [footnote : as to the earlier development of the flemish cities, cp. blok, _geschiedenis_, as cited, ii, ; eng. tr. i, ; a. wauters, _les libertés communales_, bruxelles, , p. and _passim_.] [footnote : motley, _rise of the dutch republic_, i, p. .] [footnote : see the charter of middelburg in , quoted by motley, p. , and by davies, i, .] [footnote : davies, _history of holland_, i, .] [footnote : cp. david, _manuel_, p. ; wauters, _les libertés communales_, pp. , ; van kampen, _geschichte der niederlande_, i, , .] [footnote : m'cullagh, ii, .] [footnote : de witt (_i.e._ delacourt), however, gives the priority to flanders (_mémoires_, as cited, pt. i. ch. viii, p. ).] [footnote : the majority of the serfs seem to have been freed about ; and by the chiefs of the gilds were "more powerful than the nobles" (grattan, p. ; cp. p. , and blok, as before cited).] [footnote : cp. david, _manuel_, pp. - .] [footnote : de witt, as cited, pp. , ; m'cullagh, p. ; grattan, p. .] [footnote : david, _manuel_, pp. , ; grattan, p. .] [footnote : david, pp. - .] [footnote : de witt, p. ; m'cullagh, p. .] [footnote : david, _manuel_, p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : grattan. p. .] [footnote : earle, _philology of the english tongue_, rd ed. pp. , .] [footnote : on this and previous floods see blok, _geschiedenis_, i, , ; tr. i, , ; davies, vol. i, note c.] [footnote : motley, p. .] [footnote : cp. david, pp. , , , , , , , , ; motley, pp. , , ; grattan, pp. , , , , , .] [footnote : the town of hoorn seems to have been virtually ruined by the punitive exactions of charles the bold (davies, i, , ).] [footnote : david, p. .] [footnote : davies, i, .] [footnote : motley, pp. - .] [footnote : largely through the union between spain and england under the tudor kings (grattan, p. ).] [footnote : robertson, _charles v_, b. vi; motley, _rise_. histor. introd. § .] [footnote : motley, p. , notes that the numbers have been put often at fifty thousand, and sometimes even at a hundred thousand; but this, as he admits, is incredible.] [footnote : and still the rhetorical historian, sworn to maintain the teutonic character for "liberty," declaims in his elementary manner that that has been seen to be the "master passion" of the race from cæsar's time to charles's (motley, p. ; compare pp. - ).] [footnote : cited by puffendorf, _introduction to the history of europe_, eng. tr. th ed. , i, .] [footnote : robertson, _charles v_, bk. vi, ed. cited, p. ; armstrong, as cited, pp. - .] [footnote : armstrong, as cited, pp. , .] [footnote : motley, _rise_, p. .] [footnote : _id._ pp. , ; grattan, p. .] [footnote : ullmann, _reformers before the reformation_, eng. tr. , ii, - , - .] [footnote : cp. hooker, _ecclesiastical polity_, pref. ch. viii, § .] [footnote : motley, _rise_, p. .] [footnote : see it analysed in motley, pp. , .] [footnote : asked by his viceregent margaret of parma to introduce the spanish inquisition, he pointed out that already "the inquisition of the netherlands is much more pitiless than that of spain" (motley, p. ; cp. p. ).] [footnote : it was an old source of income (davies, i, ; cp. motley, p. ).] [footnote : "the aristocracy of the netherlands was excessively extravagant, dissipated, and already considerably embarrassed in circumstances" (motley, p. ; cp. pp. , , ).] [footnote : cp. grattan, p. ; motley, as last cited.] [footnote : see the admissions of motley, p. .] [footnote : motley, p. .] [footnote : see davies, ii, , , for a criticism of william's development, worth considering as against the unmixed panegyric of motley.] [footnote : cp. m'cullagh, p. .] [footnote : motley, pp. - , , , .] [footnote : van kampen, i, . camden (_hist. of elizabeth_, trans. rd ed. , p. ) states that parma was unready to sail when called upon, but adds that the dutch ships of war lay so placed that he "could not put from shore."] [footnote : while charles v spoke all the languages of his empire, philip spoke only spanish. motley, p. . see the notes for a sample of his cast of mind.] [footnote : davies, ii, .] [footnote : m'culloch (_treatises_, p. ) states that even in its prosperous period antwerp had little shipping of its own. he refers to guicciardini's _descrizzione_, but i cannot trace the testimony; and guicciardini, while speaking of the multitudes of foreigners always at antwerp (french tr. ed. , fol. p. ), mentions that the population included a great number of mariners (p. ).] [footnote : grattan, pp. , , ; davies, ii, - , etc.; motley, _united netherlands_, ed. , iv, .] [footnote : van kampen, ii, .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : motley, _rise_, p. ; prescott, _philip ii_, ed. cited, p. .] [footnote : davies, ii, ; watson, _hist. of reign of philip ii_, ed. , p. , citing grotius, lib. v. in , however, philip iii seems to have either acknowledged the debt to genoa or borrowed anew to a large amount; and at his death he is said to have doubled the debt (howell, _epistolæ ho-elianæ_, ed. bennett, , i, ).] [footnote : davies, ii, , . cp. g. brandt, _history of the reformation in the low countries_, eng. tr. , folio, bk. xi, i, .] [footnote : cp. motley, _rise_, pp. , ; _united netherlands_, iv, ; m'cullagh, p. (where the chronology is inaccurate).] [footnote : see motley, _rise_, pp. , , as to the curtailment of clerical wealth in the netherlands from the thirteenth to the fifteenth centuries by the feudal superiors, who, unlike their over-lords, did not need to look to the church for support.] [footnote : grattan, p. ; davies, i, .] [footnote : cp. the _mémoires de jean de witt_, as cited, p. , ptie. ii, ch. .] [footnote : grattan, p. .] [footnote : davies, ii, . already at the death of charles v the debt of the entire netherlands was five or six million florins. at the armistice of the debt of the province of holland alone was twenty-six millions. by the war was reckoned to have cost spain in all fifteen hundred millions. m'cullagh, ii, , .] [footnote : davies, ii, .] [footnote : of dutchmen who sailed, however, only returned.] [footnote : _description des pays bas_, ed. , p. .] [footnote : davies, ii, .] [footnote : _mémoires de jean de witt_, as cited, p. .] [footnote : davies, ii, . the clergy were of the war party.] [footnote : _mémoires_ cited, p. .] [footnote : m'culloch, p. ; macpherson, _annals of commerce_, , ii, ; petty, _essays_, ed. , p. ; keymor, _observations made upon the dutch fishing about _, rep. in _the phoenix_, , i, .] [footnote : _mémoires_ cited, pp. , .] [footnote : davies, iii, .] [footnote : cp. tucker, _essay on trade_, th ed. p. .] [footnote : latterly the regulations failed to check fraud, and even hampered trade (m'culloch, _treatises_, p. ). but for a long time the effect was to sustain the business credit of the dutch.] [footnote : cp. _mémoires of jean de witt_, p. , as to exceptions.] [footnote : keymor, as cited, p. . hamburg about the same period, as keymor notes, enacted that foreigners should not be allowed to sell herrings in the port until its own boats had come in and sold theirs.] [footnote : _essays in political arithmetic_, ed. , p. . cp. p. .] [footnote : _new discourse on trade_, th ed. p. .] [footnote : for the years - , an average of per cent; for , - / per cent.] [footnote : m'culloch, _treatises_, pp. - , and refs. it is told in the _mémoires de jean de witt_ (as cited, p. , _note_, ptie. i, ch. xi) that cargoes of pepper were wilfully sunk near port.] [footnote : _mémoires_ cited, pp. , , .] [footnote : m'culloch, pp. - . the dutch ideal being almost necessarily one of small consumption and accumulation of nominal or money capital, there was no improvement in the popular standard of comfort.] [footnote : _mémoires_ cited, ptie. i, ch. x, xi, pp. , , .] [footnote : motley, _united netherlands_, iv, , .] [footnote : as to the stress of party spirit in holland about this period, see davies, ii, , .] [footnote : see hereinafter, pt. vi, ch. ii, § .] [footnote : davies, ii, ; van kampen, ii, . cp. temple, _essay upon the advancement of trade in ireland_, works, iii, , .] [footnote : _mémoires de jean de witt_, ptie. ii, ch. ii, iii (iii, iv). it is there noted (ch. ii, p. ) that when in time of war the states-general gave letters of marque to privateers there were always bitter complaints that the dutch privateers took dutch goods as well as the enemy's. again it is asked (p. ), "what plunder is there for us to gain at sea when we are almost the only traffickers?"] [footnote : it is to be noted that de witt diverged fatally from the doctrine of his friend delacourt in thus leaning to foreign alliances, which delacourt altogether opposed. see lefèvre pontalis, _jean de witt_, , i, - , where an interesting account of the _mémoires_ is given.] [footnote : davies, iii, , ; rogers, _holland_, p. . temple was of course the unconscious instrument of the treachery of charles. cp. lefèvre pontalis, _jean de witt_, i, - .] [footnote : see the declaration and the dutch reply, printed in , reprinted in _the phoenix_, , i, _sq._] [footnote : cp. child, _new discourse of trade_, th ed. pref. pp. xx-xxv; tucker, _essay on trade_, th ed. pp. , - .] [footnote : cp. grattan, p. .] [footnote : "never any country traded so much and consumed so little; they buy infinitely, but it is to sell again." "they furnish infinite luxury, which they never practise, and traffic in pleasures which they never taste" (temple, _observations_, ed. of _works_, i, ). cp. motley, _united netherlands_, iv, . sometimes the citizens were taxed fifty per cent on their incomes.] [footnote : m'culloch's dictum that the low rate of interest in holland was wholly due to heavy taxation is an evident fallacy, framed in the interest of _laissez-faire_.] [footnote : it was a common saying at amsterdam in the seventeenth century that every dish of fish was paid for once to the fisherman and six times to the state. as early as taxes on goods were nearly equal to their wholesale price (howell, letter of may , , in _epistolæ ho-elianæ_, bennett's ed. , vol. i, ). see _la richesse de hollande_, , ii, - , for details of the extraordinary multiplication of dutch taxes from the war-period onwards. in temple's time a common fish-sauce paid thirty different duties (_observations_, in _works_, i, ). and still taxes increased. cp. smith, _wealth of nations_, m'culloch's ed. , pp. , , .] [footnote : so seeley, _expansion of england_, p. .] [footnote : see the dissertation drawn up on this occasion ( ), eng. tr. . it is largely quoted from by m'culloch, _treatises_, pp. - .] [footnote : wenzelburger, _geschichte der niederlande_, i, .] [footnote : laing, _notes of a traveller_, , p. .] [footnote : rogers, _holland_, pp. , .] [footnote : rogers, p. .] [footnote : see smith, _wealth of nations_, bk. iv, ch. v, as to the british encouragement of fisheries in the eighteenth century.] [footnote : crawford, _eastern archipelago_, iii, ; (cited by m'culloch, p. ); temminck, _possessions néerlandaises dans l'inde archipelagique_, - , iii, - .] [footnote : m'culloch, p. .] [footnote : _wealth of nations_, bk. ii, ch. v, _end_.] [footnote : keymor, _observations on the dutch fishing_, in _the phoenix_, as cited, p. .] [footnote : _epistolæ ho-elianæ_, bennett's ed. , i, .] [footnote : child, _new discourses of trade_, th ed. p. . cp. menzel, _gesch. der deutschen_, cap. , _note_, citing browne's work of .] [footnote : _notes of a traveller_, p. .] [footnote : as to these see motley, _rise_, pp. - . he admits that they were set up by french culture-contacts. but cp. grattan, p. .] [footnote : hallam, _literature of europe_, ed. , iii, .] [footnote : _id._ iv, .] [footnote : cp. biedermann, as cited in the author's _buckle and his critics_, pp. - .] [footnote : van kampen, i, , .] [footnote : her works were issued in , , and .] [footnote : cp. mr. gosse's article on dutch literature, in _ency. brit._ th ed. vol. xii.] [footnote : as to this see cerisier, vi, .] [footnote : van kampen, i, , ; ii, ; motley, _united netherlands_, iv, .] [footnote : wenzelburger, i, .] [footnote : motley, _united netherlands_, iv, .] [footnote : at it was only , , .] [footnote : some of course were destroyed by various causes. rubens's "descent from the cross" at antwerp, though repeatedly retouched, was ruined when reynolds saw it; but the number of good pictures preserved in the low countries is immense.] [footnote : in there were , , hectares of land = , square miles. in there were , , hectares = , square miles--the result of systematic reclamation from sea and river.] [footnote : population in slightly over , , ; at the end of , , , .] [footnote : compare, however, the verdict of laing, cited above, p. .] [footnote : an increase of some seven millions since .] [footnote : chief crops rye, oats, potatoes.] [footnote : the clear exports are chiefly margarine, butter, cheese, sugar, leather, paper, manufactured woollen and cotton cloths, flax, vegetables, potato-flour, oxen, and sheep. in great britain imported from the netherlands £ , , worth of margarine and £ , worth of butter; in , £ , , worth and £ , worth respectively; while sugar stood at £ , , . oil seed rose from £ , in to £ , in ; and condensed milk in the latter year stood at £ , .] [footnote : increases of , men and , boats since .] [footnote : an increase of since .] [footnote : an increase of , (over per cent.) since .] [footnote : this source of wealth, as we have seen, was much curtailed in the eighteenth century by british competition. laing (_notes_, pp. , ) shows how small it had become at his time, but is quite mistaken in assuming that it had never been great.] [footnote : about per cent. of the revenue is from government produce and monopolies.] [footnote : the communes make provision only where charity does not; there is no poor-rate.] chapter v switzerland the best general history of switzerland available in english is mr. e. salisbury's translation ( ) of the _short history_ of prof. dändliker. it has little merit as literature, but is abreast of critical research at all points. for the reformation period, the older history of vieusseux (library of useful knowledge, ) is fuller and better, though now superseded as to early times. the work of sir f.o. adams and c.d. cunningham on _the swiss confederation_, (translated and added to in french by m. loumyer, ), is an excellent conspectus, especially for contemporary swiss institutions. as regards the first half of the last century, grote's _seven letters concerning the politics of switzerland_ ( , rep. ) are most illuminating. of fuller histories there are several in french and german. the longer _geschichte der schweiz_ of prof. dändliker ( - ) is good and instructive, though somewhat commonplace in its thinking. dierauer's _geschichte der schweizerischen eidgenossenschaft_ ( ), which stops before the reformation period, is excellent so far as it goes, and gives abundant references, which dändliker's does not; though his _short history_ gives good bibliographies. zschokke's compendious _des schweizerlands geschichte_ ( te aufgabe, ) is lucid and very readable, but is quite uncritical as to the medieval period. that is critically and decisively dealt with in rilliet's _les origines de la confédération suisse_, , and in dierauer. in more than one respect, the political evolution of switzerland is the most interesting in the whole historic field. the physical basis, the determinations set up by it, the reactions, the gradual control of bias, the creation of stability out of centrifugal forces--all go to form the completest of all political cases.[ ] happier than those of greece, if less renowned, the little clans of switzerland have passed through the storms of outer and inner strife to a state of something like assured republican federation. and where old greece and renaissance italy and scandinavia have failed to attain to this even on the basis of a common language and "race," the swiss cantons have attained it in despite of a maximum diversity of speech and stock. as does japan for asia, they disprove for europe a whole code of false generalisations. the primary fact in the case, as in that of greece, is the physical basis. like hellas, the swiss land is "born divided"; and the first question that forces itself is as to how the cantons, while retaining their home rule, have contrived to escape utterly ruinous inter-tribal strife, and to attain federal union. the answer, it speedily appears, begins with noting the fact that swiss federation is a growth or aggregation, as it were, from a primary "cell-form." from the early confederation of the three forest cantons of schwytz, uri, and unterwalden, a set of specially congruous units, led to alliance by their original isolation from the rest of helvetia and their common intercourse through the lake of lucerne, came the example and norm for the whole. the primary influence of mere land-division is proved by the persistence of the cantonal spirit and methods to this day;[ ] but the history of switzerland is the history of the social union gradually forced on the cantons by varying pressures from outside. that it is due to no quality of "race" is sufficiently proved by the fact that three or four languages, and more stocks, are represented in the republic at this moment. § . _the beginnings of union_ in the union of the forest cantons, as in the rooting of several swiss cities and the cultivation of remote valleys, the church has been held to have played a constructive part. at the outset, according to some historians,[ ] schwytz and uri and unterwalden had but one church among them; hence a habit of congregation. but the actual records yield no evidence for this view, any more than for the other early dicta as to the racial distinctness of the people of the forest cantons, and their immemorial freedom. broadly speaking, the early swiss were for the most part serfs with customary rights. the first documentary trace of them is in the grant by louis of germany to the convent at zurich, in the year , of his _pagellus uroniae_, with its churches, houses, serfs, lands, and revenues.[ ] this did not constitute the whole of the canton; but it seems clear that the bulk of the population were in status serfs, though when attached to a royal convent they would have such privileges as would induce even freemen to accept the same state of dependence.[ ] in the canton of schwytz, again, the people--there in larger part freemen--seem to have been always more or less at strife with the great monastery of einsiedeln, founded about by kaiser otto, and largely filled by men of aristocratic birth seeking a quiet life,[ ] who held by the usual interests of their class as well as their corporation.[ ] it was a question of ownership of pastures, the main economic basis in that region; and the descendants of the early settlers were fighting for their subsistence. unterwalden, finally (then known only as the higher and lower valleys, _stanz_ or _stannes_ and _sarnen_ or _sarnon_), was led in its development by uri and schwytz, each of which possessed some communal property, the former in respect of its beginnings as a royal domain, the latter in respect of the association of its freemen. whatever earlier combinations there may have been,[ ] it is in the year [ ] that the first recorded pact was made between the three cantons; and it arose out of their making a stand for their customary local rights as against the house of hapsburg.[ ] uri had in been granted by king henry vii of germany, son of the emperor frederick ii, the cherished privilege of enrolment as an imperial fief, an act which in theory withdrew it from its former feudal subordination to the count of hapsburg; and in frederick himself gave the same privilege to schwytz.[ ] on the unhinging of the imperial system after frederick's death, the hapsburgs, who even in his life had treated the cantons as contumacious vassals, fought for their own claims; whereupon in due course was formed the pact of . thus the swiss confederation broadly began in the special strife which arose between the new order of higher feudal princes and the civic or rural communes on the disintegration of the germanic empire in the thirteenth century.[ ] the familiar story of william tell and the oath-taking at rütli or grütli in appears to be pure myth. there is no historic mention till over a hundred years later of any such acts by the austrian bailiff as that story turns upon, or of any strife whatever in . a pact of confederation had actually been made seventeen years earlier than that date; and a new and rather more definite pact was made on the same general grounds in ; but the romance of remains entirely unattested, and it bears the plainest marks of myth. the histories of j. von müller, zschokke, vieusseux, and others of the first half of the nineteenth century, are vitiated as regards the early period by acceptance of the traditions; though the untrustworthiness of the tell story had been pointed out as early as the year by franz guillimann of fribourg, and again in the eighteenth century by iselin, and by freudenberger in his _guillaume tell: fable danoise_, . (see dändliker's _short history of switzerland_, eng. tr. , pp. , .) a full and decisive examination of it will be found in rilliet's _les origines de la confédération suisse_, . compare dierauer, _geschichte der schweizerischen eidgenossenschaft_, , buch ii, kap. i, § iii; cox, _mythology of the aryan nations_, ed. , pp. - , and the essay _william tell_ in baring-gould's _curious myths of the middle ages_, . some very judicial attempts have been made to show that there is reason to think _some_ fighting occurred in . see, for instance, the pamphlets _le grütli_ and _la querelle sur les traditions concernant l'origine de la confédération suisse_, by prof. h. bordier, in reply to prof. rilliet, . dierauer, again, declines to go the whole way in negation, and stands for the view "not fable, but legend--on some basis of fact" (as cited, i, ). but even m. bordier reduces tell to a mere "somebody"; and every student surrenders the apple story, which is at least as old as the twelfth-century danish version of it in saxo grammaticus. m. rilliet holds that the swiss reproduction was not a local survival of the teutonic myth, but a deliberate adaptation made in lucerne from the abridgment of saxo grammaticus produced by a german monk, gheysmer, about (_les origines_, pp. - , , ). at lucerne there was a local school of poetry of the kind then common in holland; and the old ballad, which closely follows saxo's tale, and which is the probable basis of the story as given in the later chronicles, seems to have been composed by way of securing for the canton of uri the main honours of the founding of the confederation, which were being claimed by the sister cantons. whatever be the basis, the tell legend is finally untenable, and the tradition of an immemorial state of freedom in the forest cantons is abandoned even by the conservative critics. see bordier, _la querelle_, p. . the only point on which a case against the criticism of m. rilliet seems to be made out is as regards his view that the forest cantons were not colonised before the eighth century. as m. bordier contends, the grant of louis of germany seems to describe a long-settled district. m. rilliet also goes somewhat beyond the evidence in assuming that uri was mainly colonised under royal influence, unterwalden by lay and ecclesiastical proprietors, and schwytz by freemen (_les origines_, pp. , ). the rise of a durable federation in the central swiss group is thus a product of three main factors; the first being their primary physical union through the lake of lucerne, their common highway. but for this they would probably have been as hostile as were uri and glarus, which had fought from time immemorial.[ ] next was needed the chronic hostile pressure of an outside force, creating a common political interest. the septs of pre-norman ireland and england, and of the scottish highlands down till modern times, remained at strife long after christianisation, because within their own country they were so free to struggle, and because the examples of forcible centralisation elsewhere were so remote and so hard to assimilate. but when the forest cantons emerge as such in history in the thirteenth century they are already menaced by a power which, without undertaking or compassing the toil of conquering them, habitually drives them to formal combination by its interference. its continued pressure evolves the definite political agreement of , after the victory of morgarten, in which was made clear the special difficulty of conquering a race of mountaineers with the normal cavalry forces and armour-clad or servile infantry of medieval feudalism[ ]--a difficulty which must rank as the third factor in the beginnings of swiss independence. thus far the half-feudal, half-commercial city of lucerne, though in touch with the forest cantons through the uniting lake, was their enemy, as being feudatory of the hapsburgs; but as the chronic state of war was ruinous to its trade with italy, and peculiarly harassing to all industry, the commercial element forced a coalition, and in lucerne joined the confederation as fourth canton. now emerges in the affairs of the confederation the element of civic class strife, so familiar in the republics of italy; for the accession of lucerne is promptly followed in that city by a conspiracy of nobles, which is put down by the help of the allied cantons; whereupon the nobles are exiled and a civic council set up, the duke of austria being unable to hinder. the same trouble arises in the case of zurich, the next accession to the union. in the ordinary medieval course there had there arisen an oligarchic government of aristocratic citizens in place of the early dominion of the abbess; and the city was made an imperial fief by frederick ii. on this basis it made commercial treaties in the manner then common among the cities of germany, joining the swabian, rhenish, and south-german leagues, and developing a large trade with italy and germany, and even a silk manufacture. at length the large craftsman class revolted ( ) under the leadership of a dissentient patrician, brun or braun, who established a constitution in which he as burgomaster held office for life, with a council of thirteen gildmasters and thirteen aristocrats, six of the latter being named by brun. for the firm support of the gilds he duly paid them by laws checking foreign competition in manufactured goods, and denying even to the rural population the right to manufacture. the dispossessed oligarchs kept up a raiding strife on the frontiers, till at length some who were permitted to return formed a conspiracy against the burgomaster, which he suppressed with slaughter. this leading to a league against the city among the hapsburgs and the surrounding nobles and the cantons in treaty with them, zurich petitioned to join the forest confederation, and was readily accepted ( ), finally triumphing by their help. zurich on its part enabled the forest cantons to protect themselves against austria by conquering glarus ( ), which offered little resistance, and was ranked as a protected territory under the confederation. this now formed a compact territorial group save for the canton of zug, intervening between lucerne and zurich. as that could not defend itself against its neighbours, it joined their confederation perforce ( ), being received as a full member. the same status was readily granted to the city of berne, which, imperially enfranchised in , had carried on a remarkable independent policy on italian lines, acquiring territory from the decaying nobles around by mortgage, purchase, and conquest, till in they combined against her. succour was then given by the forest cantons, securing for berne the victory of laupen; and when in they invited her to join their union, her rulers accepted. so tepid, however, was still the spirit of union that at the peace of brandenburg in , confirmed by that of regensburg in , glarus and zug consented to withdraw, returning for a time to the austrian allegiance;[ ] and the confederation of the remaining six cantons was still one of the loosest cohesion, differing only in the fact of its territorial continuity and its organic growth from the many city-unions which flourished in germany in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.[ ] only the three original cantons were pledged to make no separate treaties; zurich was specifically permitted to do so; in berne was in alliance with the towns of fribourg and soleure; in the next generation lucerne made a compact with the towns of sempach and richensee; and in a burgomaster of zurich carried through a treaty of alliance with the common enemy, the duke of austria. in this case the mass of the citizens were induced to reverse the policy and banish those who had planned it; but the right of the city to make such an alliance was not technically challenged by the confederation; and even in schwytz a few loyalists paid old feudal dues to austria up till . a more serious ground of division was the jealousy duly arising between the rural and the city cantons, from which came about the forcible intervention of schwytz in a dispute between the town and country sections of zug. the remaining cantons insisted on subjecting the action of both zug and schwytz to the verdict of the union, thus effectually establishing a precedent of federal practice; but in the first decade of the fifteenth century the cantons of schwytz and glarus are found on their own account helping the men of appenzell to win their independence; and when the successful appenzellers, who had developed a turn for aggression and confiscation, sought to join the union, they were accepted only as allies by the cantons individually, berne holding aloof. yet again, when the house of austria (which had abandoned its claims on the cantons in ) was under the ban of the empire in , and the city cantons led a movement of attack upon its territories, uri and the appenzellers took no part; while in uri and unterwalden acted alone in their unsuccessful war with the duke of milan. thus far the confederation, in its different degrees of union, had included only german-speaking cantons; but in the french-speaking valais (ger. wallis, from the latin _vallis poenina?_ or foreigners), in upper rhætia, and in the same year the romance-speaking engadin, also in rhætia, won their virtual independence. in all, three leagues were formed in rhætia, forming their own confederation, known as the grisons (="the greys," the _graubünden_ or grey leagues, from the colour of the peasants' smocks). as the sphere of self-government widened, new risks of strife arose. all the while the older cantons, in particular the cities, had been acquiring lands in the feudal fashion; and in a general scramble for an inheritance in rhætia evolved first a war between zurich on the one hand and schwytz and glarus on the other, and next a joint coercion of zurich by all the other cantons. this led to a fresh alliance between zurich and austria, and a new and exceptionally ferocious war, lasting for four years. meantime basle, assailed by the armagnacs under the dauphin of france, was succoured by the union and received into alliance. next came the burgundian wars, whereafter, not without much friction and quarrelling over booty, soleure (solothurn) and fribourg were taken into the union, and a new pact framed ( ), defining afresh the general law of the confederation. lastly, after the swabian war, the last in which the swiss had to defend themselves against german aggression, the cities of basle and schaffhausen, become self-governing, were received into the league; and in appenzell followed. thus was rounded the number of thirteen cantons, which constituted the swiss confederation till the end of the eighteenth century. they were: schwytz (which gradually gave its name to the whole people), uri, unterwalden, zurich (the "forest" group), lucerne, glarus, zug, berne, fribourg, soleure, basle, schaffhausen, and appenzell. aargau and thurgau, conquered in the wars with austria in and , remained subject lands, the property of the allied cantons; and the valais and the grisons remained outside the union as connections or _zugewandte_, the league proper being restricted to german-speaking cantons. it will be seen too that the territory of the confederation remained a compact and connected mass; the vaud, the valais, ticino, and the grisons forming a long band of territory outside. § . _the socio-political evolution_ the outstanding feature of the swiss social evolution up to the end of the fifteenth century is the acquisition of municipal estates by the chief cities, after the manner of those of italy. the lead given by berne was zealously followed by zurich[ ] and lucerne, till nearly all the old feudal lordships around them had fallen into their hands by purchase, mortgage, or conquest; and by the hapsburgs had not a rood of land left in all helvetia, even the family castle being lost. it was impossible that the revenues thus acquired by the cities should fail in that age to enrich the patrician or ruling class, no matter how revolutions might alter its membership. herein lay one of the effective checks to the growth of the confederation from onwards. the rural cantons and the aristocratic governments of the cities were alike disinclined to enfranchise the rural populations they held in feudal subjection; and the status of the mass of the townspeople and subject peasantry, though probably better than in france and germany, was that of men without political rights,[ ] save those secured by feudal or civic custom. nor can it be said that in the pre-reformation period the flourishing swiss cities did much for culture; a main part of the explanation doubtless being ( ) the chronic stress of war, which in such communities tended to be borne by all classes alike.[ ] when the italian cities had produced dante, petrarch, and boccaccio; when england had produced chaucer; and france the _roman de la rose_, villon, joinville, froissart, and comines, switzerland had a literature only of average german lyrics and a few average medieval chronicles. but the comparison will be quite misleading if it be not kept in mind ( ) that the whole swiss population up till never amounted to a million, and that the surplus males were being constantly drained off in the fifteenth century in military service outside of switzerland. the conditions which made for military strength and independence were entirely unfavourable to culture. there remains, however, to be noted in the case of german switzerland ( ) the fundamental drawback of relative homogeneity of race. the one important aspect of "race" in sociology is as a statement of relative lack of intellectual variability; and this condition in modern europe can be seen to exist only at certain periods, in the case of one or two peoples, chiefly the germanic. if the whole process of the renascence of civilisation be considered _seriatim_, it will be found that the growth took place primarily in virtue of degree of access to (_a_) the remains of græco-roman culture and (_b_) to saracen lore; and, secondarily, in virtue of degree of admixture of physical type in the different communities. thus ( ) the first great new-birth (before the age of the renaissance so-called) took place in italy, in a population already highly mixed at the end of the roman period and repeatedly invaded thereafter by northern stocks, from odoaker down to the normans. the reviving italian culture, being communicated northwards through the church and otherwise, is next developed by ( ) the highly-mixed population of france and ( ) that of england after the norman conquest--the welsh element being here prominent. at the same time the literary germination set up in ( ) ancient ireland, under stormy conditions, by the early missionaries of the græco-roman church, reaches after some centuries the scandinavian peoples by way of the hebrides and ( ) iceland, where, however, after a brilliant start, the evolution is arrested by the restrictive environment, the main body of scandinavian life being too homogeneous (though constantly at strife) for any complex evolution. in the south, again, the populations of ( ) spain and portugal, mixed to begin with in the roman period and later crossed by teutonic invasion, became specially capable of variation after the subdual of the moors, whose reaction on their conquerors was extensive and important. all this while the teutonic stocks in their old homes are noticeably backward, save where, as in ( ) the netherlands, they are in constant contact with other peoples on land and by sea. culture begins to be at once original and brilliant in the netherlands only in the period after (_a_) special contact with spain and (_b_) the large immigration of protestant refugees from other countries. at first strongly influenced by classical scholarship, it is later affected by the influence of france and england. all the more strictly teutonic cultures were either unprogressive or similarly vitalised from without; and germany, after the thirty years' war, begins almost afresh with an academic literature in latin, to be followed by new native developments only on french and english stimuli.[ ] but it is specially significant that ( ) the german renascence of the eighteenth century takes place after (_a_) the large influx of french protestant refugees at the end of the seventeenth, and after (_b_) a fresh influx of french taste, french teachers, and french literature under frederick the great, in whose armies, it should be remembered, there fought no fewer than nine generals of french protestant descent, as well as others of alien heredity. the case of switzerland is thus on this side tolerably clear. swiss intellectual life, long primitively teutonic, begins to become notable only at the period of the reformation, when for the merely diplomatic and military and commercial contacts of the past there is substituted a fresh differentiation and interaction from italian, french, and german protestantism--a new intellectual impulse--and from the influx of refugees, as in holland. and the french-speaking city of geneva, not yet a member of the confederation, at once takes the lead. the teutonic population, from the fifteenth century onwards, had in large numbers sought subsistence in mercenary soldiership. it was the medieval analogue to the emigration of to-day, the opening even serving to curtail the agricultural and pastoral life;[ ] but the result, by the common consent of historians,[ ] was disastrous to the higher life at home, the returning mercenaries being in many cases spoilt for steady industry, rural or civic. their military success and prestige in fact tended to demoralise the swiss as the success of hellas against persia tended to demoralise athens, making them, in the words of aristotle, unfitted to rest. dwelling on past patriotic glories is never the way to discipline the mental life; and the swiss militia of the end of the fifteenth century, wont to sell their services as fighters to french and italians, often thus opposing each other, and otherwise wont to interpose arrogantly in other people's concerns,[ ] were not on the line of social or intellectual progress. pensions to leading men from the french and italian courts wrought a further and even more sinister corruption. but after their defeat by francis i in at the desperate battle of marignano, becoming allies of france, the swiss ceased to play the part of holders of the balances between contending neighbours; and after their heavy share in the loss of francis at the battle of pavia they grew for a time loth even to play the part of auxiliaries on a national footing, though individual enlistment continued. it is at this stage that the reformation supervenes, creating a new source of strife between canton and canton, and so paralysing the confederation for centuries. nowhere is the study of the process of the reformation more instructive, more subversive of the conventional protestant view, than in the case of switzerland. in the first place, it is not the old forest cantons, with their ingrained independence and "teutonic conscience," that do the work. they remained obstinately catholic. swiss protestantism, under the independent lead of zwingli, began indeed in glarus and schwytz, but became an effective movement only in the city of zurich, and it is notable that in the primitive and poor canton of uri[ ] there was as little buying of indulgences as there was heresy. the two phenomena went together in the richer cantons, where the common desire to buy pardons evoked the protest against them. indeed, the special traffic in indulgences in germany and switzerland, and the special laxity of life of their priesthoods, were concomitants of the special grossness of german life;[ ] for in no other country did the reformation proceed nakedly on the basis of protest against indulgence-selling. there the pardoners shamefully overrode all the official and accepted teaching of the church as to indulgences; and the protests of luther and zwingli were properly demands for a reform on strictly orthodox grounds, as against an abuse which was locally excessive. but it lay in the economic and political conditions that when a movement of protest began it should succeed in view rather of the economic and social impulses to break with rome than of the spontaneous desire for reform. in germany in particular the movement among the upper and educated classes was nakedly financial as regarded the nobles, and to a large extent the reverse of ascetic among the scholars, many of whom, however, were much more spontaneously alive to the doctrinal crudities of the orthodox system than was luther himself. it was the facile combination, on socio-political grounds, of the five forces of ( ) moral indignation among the more conscientious leaders, ( ) gain-seeking on the part of nobles and ruling burghers, ( ) racial aversion to italian priests and italian revenue-drawing among the people in general, ( ) critical revolt against primitive superstitions among the more learned, and ( ) anti-clerical freethinking and licence among many who had served in the italian wars,[ ] that made the revolt proceed so rapidly in germany and switzerland. if the mass of the people, in all save the most primitive swiss cantons, were grossly eager to buy the indulgences so grossly offered by samson and tetzel, the people clearly were not zealous reformers to start with. of those who most resented the traffic, many remained steady catholics. when, however, it became known that samson carried away with him from switzerland to italy , crowns, besides other bullion and jewels, even the buyers of indulgences could share the general inclination to stop the enrichment of italy at swiss expense. the intellectual revolt of the educated supplied the basis of the revolution in church management; but without the accruing financial gains the former could have availed little; and while there was the usual violence on the part of the mob, the city authorities were judicious in their procedure. to the clergy they offered on the one hand freedom to marry, and on the other hand a provision for life. thus in zurich, under the skilful guidance of zwingli, the whole chapter of twenty-four canons gave up their rights and property to the state, becoming preachers, teachers, or professors with life-allowances: a plan generally followed elsewhere, save where the parties fell to blows.[ ] in zurich the further steps were: , ecclesiastical marriages; , pictures abolished and monasteries dissolved; , mass discontinued. in french-speaking geneva, destined to become the leading swiss city, the process was more stormy. having grown to importance under its bishops, it had been made an imperial city in , thereby finding a foothold in its resistance to the constant claims of the house of savoy, which in forced it into a defensive alliance with fribourg. there were now two genevan parties, the savoyards and the republicans, which latter, imitating swiss usage, called themselves eidgenossen, whence the french corruption _huguenots_, ultimately applied to the calvinistic protestants of france. out of the faction strife came the religious, under the fanning of farel; and in this case the anti-democratic leaning of the savoyards kept the rich pro-catholic, while the common people declared for protestantism. in the end the latter took violent possession of the churches, destroying the altars and images, whereupon most of the catholics fled, the city retaining the clerical lands; and there immigrated many french, italian, and savoyard protestants. to the community thus made for him came calvin in . meanwhile, berne, conquering the pays de vaud from the duke of savoy, made it protestant. elsewhere, some communes and districts passed and repassed between catholicism and protestantism as neighbouring influences prevailed; in some districts the peasants, hoping for release from tithes and taxes, welcomed the revolution, but renounced it when they found it made no difference to their lot.[ ] the magistrates of berne were prompt to make it clear that their protestantism made no difference as to their tithe-drawing from their rural subjects.[ ] when the period of transformation was over--with its bitter wars, which cost the life of zwingli, its manifold exasperations, its anabaptist convulsions, its forlorn and foredoomed peasant risings, its severance of old ties, and its profound impairment of the half-grown spirit of confederation--it was found that the old cantons of lucerne, uri, unterwalden, schwytz, and zug stood fast for catholicism; that soleure, after being for a time predominantly protestant, had joined them, with fribourg, making seven catholic states; that the city cantons of berne, zurich, basle, and schaffhausen were protestant, as were geneva and the vaud, not yet in the union; and that glarus and appenzell were mixed. the achievement of the landamman oebly of glarus, in securing a peaceful and lasting compromise in his own canton--the two bodies in some parishes actually agreeing to use the same church--was beyond the moral capacity of the mass of the swiss people, for appenzell bitterly divided into two parts, on religious lines. each of the other cantons imposed its ruling men's creed on its subjects. they were still as far from toleration in religion as from real democracy in politics. while protestantism, by dividing the realm of religion, doubtless wrought indirectly and ultimately for the intellectual freedom of europe, it is clear that it had no such result for many generations in switzerland. calvin's rule in geneva, while associated with a new activity in printing, chiefly of theological works,[ ] became a byword for moral tyranny and cruelty. to say nothing of the executions of servetus and gruet for heresy, and the expulsions of other men, the records show that in that small population there were between and persons imprisoned between the years and , and put to death; no fewer than being beheaded, hanged, or burned on charges of sedition in three months of . torture was freely applied, and any personal criticism of calvin was more or less fiercely punished.[ ] the conditions were much the same in zurich and berne, where a press censorship was set up (in zurich as early as ), and zealously maintained for centuries. it prohibited, under heavy penalties, the sale of the works of descartes, and in both places cartesians were prosecuted;[ ] while in protestant switzerland generally the copernican theory was denounced as heresy, and the reformed calendar, as a work of the pope, was furiously rejected. so high did passion run that in berne and zurich any who married catholics were severely punished.[ ] the zurich criminal calendar of the sixteenth century gives a sample of the protestant city life of the period. there were executions in all, persons being beheaded, burned, hanged, drowned. only were cases of murder; were executed for abuse of zwingli, who thus appears to have given a lead to calvin; for blasphemy, for bestiality, and for theft[ ]--a clear economic clue. broadly speaking, the settled protestant period was one of relapse alike from freedom and from union. class division deepened and worsened throughout the seventeenth century;[ ] the people of the subject lands were less than ever recognised as having rights,[ ] puritanism taking to oppression as spontaneously in switzerland as in england; the stimulus given to culture and art in the controversial period died away, leaving retrogression;[ ] and in the personal and the intellectual life alike clerical tyranny was universal.[ ] the municipalities became more and more close corporations, as the gilds had become long before;[ ] and at berne in the city treasurer was put to death for exposing abuses.[ ] after the peasants' war of the aristocratic development was still further strengthened, till in berne, soleure, and fribourg--catholic and protestant cities alike--the roll of burghers was closed ( - ), soleure stipulating that it should remain so till the number of reigning families was reduced to twenty-five.[ ] the practice of taking pensions from france revived, for the old service of supplying mercenary troops; so that "the swiss were never more shamelessly sold to the highest bidder" than in the seventeenth century.[ ] as of old, the municipalities amassed and invested capital, catholic soleure lending great sums to france, while the still wealthier city of berne lent money in all directions;[ ] but though they raised handsome public buildings, it was the small ruling class and not the workers that were enriched. in the rural cantons even the small economic advance made at the outset of the reformation was lost.[ ] it seems difficult to dispute that as a force for social progress the reformation was naught. one factor there was to its credit: the establishment of secondary schools, which had not previously existed in switzerland, and the provision of better common schools;[ ] and though the ecclesiastical and religious forces, as in scotland, prevented the common schools being turned to any higher account at home than that of qualifying to read and write and learn catechisms, even that small tuition gave the swiss some advantages in the neighbouring countries. all the while the higher political evolution went backwards. in the catholic cantons of schwytz, uri, unterwalden, lucerne, zug, fribourg, and soleure ejected from the league the protestant state of mülhausen; and, ignoring the laws of the confederation, proceeded to make a separate offensive and defensive alliance among themselves, and with spain and the pope. as late as war broke out between berne and schwytz, lucerne intervening, over a dispute about protestant refugees; whereafter the principle of cantonal sovereignty reigned supreme for a hundred and forty years. it would seem difficult to maintain, in the face of all the facts, that protestantism had made for peace, freedom, or civilisation. on the other hand, the distribution of protestantism in the swiss cantons disposes once for all of the theory that the "teutonic conscience" or anything else of an ethnic order was the determining force at the reformation. a rough conspectus of the language and religion of the cantons as at the year will present the proof to the contrary:-- -------------------+----------------------------+------------------------ name. | language. | religion. -------------------+----------------------------+------------------------ berne |five-sixths german-speaking |seven-eighths protestant zurich |nearly all german | " " lucerne | " " " |nearly all catholic vaud |mostly french dialects |nine-tenths protestant aargau |mostly german |four c. to five p. st. gall | " " |three-fifths catholic ticino |italian dialects |nearly all catholic fribourg |half french, half german |four-fifths catholic grisons |half romansch, three-eighths|five-ninths protestant | german, one-eighth italian| valais |(?) half german, half french|nearly all catholic thurgau |nearly all german |two-sevenths catholic basle | " " " |one-third catholic soleure |nearly all german |three-fourths catholic geneva |predominantly french |half-and-half neuchâtel | " " |seven-eighths protestant schaffhausen | " german | " " appenzell (rh. ext)| " " |nine-tenths protestant " (rh. int)| " " |nearly all catholic glarus |nearly all german |one-fourth catholic zug | " " " |nearly all catholic schwytz | " " " | " " " unterwalden | " " " | " " " uri | " " " | " " " -------------------+----------------------------+------------------------ here we have nearly every species of variation in terms of speech and creed. the one generalisation which appears to hold good to any extent in the matter is that catholicism usually goes with an agricultural economy and protestantism with manufactures; but here, too, there are exceptions, as vaud, which, though protestant, is predominantly agricultural or vine-rearing; glarus, which is mainly pastoral and protestant; the grisons, agricultural and more than half protestant; and geneva, where there is a large minority of catholics in industrial conditions. on the whole, we are warranted in assuming that in switzerland, as in most other countries, the town workers were the readiest to innovate in religion; while race, so far as inferrible from language, had nothing to do with the choice made. what differences of life accrue to the creeds, as we shall see, depend on their one important social divergence, that of bias for and against illiteracy. § . _the modern renaissance_ in the earlier part of the eighteenth century the swiss confederation figured as "a weather-beaten ruin, ready to fall."[ ] it would be hard to point out, in the domestic conditions, any that made for beneficent change, and there were many that rigidly precluded it; but some elements of variability there were, and from other countries there came the principle of fertilisation. theological hatreds and disputations had in a manner destroyed their own standing-ground by the very stress of their barren activity; and even while press laws were banning new works of thought and science, the better minds were secretly yearning towards them. in cities like geneva and basle (the latter then the seat of the only swiss university), reason must to some extent have played beneath the surface while all its open manifestations were struck at. at basle, in the old days, erasmus spent the main part of his life; and he must have had some congenial intercourse. but it is on the side of the physical sciences that new intellectual life is first seen to germinate in post-reformation switzerland. there, as elsewhere, inquiring men felt that nature was kindlier to question than the self-appointed oracles of deity, and that the unending search for real knowledge brought more peace than ever came of the insistence that the ultimate truth was known. refugee immigrants, chiefly french, seem to have begun the ferment; and it is at the hands of their descendants that swiss science has grown.[ ] having reason to avoid alike politics and theology in their new home, and living in many cases on incomes from investments, they turned to the sciences as occupation and solace. with this inner movement concurred the new influences from french and english science and literature, and from the reviving culture of germany.[ ] with the rest of europe, too, switzerland turned in an increasing degree to industry, and in the latter half of the eighteenth century had developed many new trades, involving considerable use of machinery.[ ] agriculture, too, improved,[ ] and mercenary soldiering began to fall into disrepute[ ] under the influence of the new pacific thought. still the rural economic conditions were bad, and the country seemed to grow poorer while the towns grew richer.[ ] the population, in fact, constantly tended to exceed the not easily widened limits of rural subsistence; and in place of foreign soldiering, the old remedy, there began a peaceful industrial emigration into the neighbouring countries, swiss beginning to figure there in increasing numbers as waiters and servants.[ ] all the while the tyranny of the city aristocracies was unmitigated, and the subject lands were steadily ill-treated.[ ] in berne, in , only eighteen families were represented in the council of two hundred; and there and in zurich and lucerne the civic regulations were as flagrantly partial to the ruling class as in france itself.[ ] the new industrial conditions, however, were gradually preparing a political change; and the intellectual climate steadily altered. voltaire tells in many amusing letters of the spread of socinian heresy in the city of calvin. in geneva arose the abnormal figure of jean jacques rousseau, descendant of a french refugee immigrant of calvin's day; and though his city in formally burned his epoch-marking book on the _contrat social_, a popular reaction followed six years later. democratic disturbances had repeatedly occurred before; but this time there was a growing force at work. an insurrection in was suppressed; another, in , though at first successful, ended in the overthrow of the popular party by means of troops from france, berne, and zurich; but in the fateful year of yet another broke out, and this time the tide turned. with the interference of the french republic in switzerland in on behalf of the pays de vaud, then subject to berne, began the long convulsion which broke up the old confederation and framed a new. in began the wildly premature attempt of the more visionary republicans to create a unitary republic out of cantons which had retrograded even from the measure of union attained before the reformation. it could not succeed; and the rapine inseparable from the french revolutionary methods could not but arouse an intense resistance, paralysing the aims of the progressive party. out of years of miserable ferocious warfare, ended by napoleon's withdrawal of the french troops in , came the new confederation of , which, however, it needed the friendly but authoritative mediation of the first consul to get the conservative cantons to accept. for once the despot had secured, in a really disinterested fashion,[ ] what the revolution ought to have brought about. the old aristocratic tyrannies were subverted; the subject lands were freed; to the thirteen cantons of the old union were added aargau, thurgau, st. gall, vaud, and ticino; through all was set up a representative system, modified in the towns by a measure of the old aristocratic element; and the whole possessed what switzerland never had before, and could hardly otherwise have attained--a central parliamentary system. in berne would fain have resumed its tyranny over the vaud and aargau, a step which would have initiated a general return to the old _régime_. the allies, however, brought about the completion of the confederation on the new principles; and by the addition to its roll of geneva, neuchâtel, and the valais, and the cession to berne of the basle territory formerly annexed by france, created a compact and complete switzerland, bounded in natural fashion by the alps, the jura, and the rhine. and at this period, after so many vicissitudes, the culture life of switzerland is found fully abreast of that of europe in general. sismondi, standing apart from france and italy, and writing impartially the history of both, is the greatest historian of his day. the later history of the confederation, however, is one of the great illustrations of the perpetual possibility of strife and sunderance in communities. sismondi lived to ban the democracy which would not be content to be ruled by the middle class. at the old spirit of class subsisted under the new institutions; the press was nearly everywhere under strict censorship; and the ideals which ruled elsewhere on the continent seemed even more potent in switzerland than elsewhere. there, as elsewhere, the system inevitably bred discontent; and in , on the revolutionary initiative of ticino, the most corruptly governed of all the cantons, there ensued almost bloodless revolutions in the local governments, radicals taking the place of conservatives, and proceeding to reform alike administration and education. then came the due reaction, the catholic cantons forming the league of sarnen, while the extremists again pressed the ideal of a military state. though morally strong enough to enforce peace in more than one embroilment of cantons and parties, the federal diet was dangerously weak in the face of the new forces of religio-political reaction typified by the activity of the jesuits, as well as the old trouble of cantonal selfishness, which affected even the tolls.[ ] the resistance to radicalism became a movement of clerical fanaticism, led by the cry of "religion in danger"; catholics using it to foment local insurrections; protestants, ecclesiastically led, using it to make a municipal revolution by violence at zurich on the occasion of the proposal to give strauss a university chair in .[ ] but the jesuits--expelled from nearly every catholic state in the eighteenth century, yet latterly cherished by the swiss catholics for their anti-protestant services--were the chief mischief-makers; and at length the violences promoted from the headquarters at lucerne led to protestant reprisals which took the shape of a beginning of civil war. the collapse, however, of the catholic "sonderbund" or secession-league in , before the resolute military action of the diet, marked the turning-point in modern swiss politics. in was framed a new constitution, wholly swiss-made, creating an effective federal government, on a new basis of a parliament of two chambers. now were definitely nationalised the systems of coinage, weights and measures, posts and telegraphs; and the customs system was made one of complete internal free trade. on this footing followed "long years of happiness, and a prosperity without precedent."[ ] yet even this constitution has had to be revised, to the end of guarding afresh against religious strifes and conflict of cantonal jurisdictions. in the centralising reformers carried in the chambers a revision of the constitution; but under the referendum (a specialty of swiss democracy, instituted in or after by the catholic conservative party in st. gall, the valais and lucerne) it was rejected by a popular vote of , citizens to , , and of thirteen cantons to nine. with a few modifications, however, it was carried in by a vote of , to , , and of - / cantons to - / . the whole process is a great lesson as to the superiority of the methods of peace and persuasion to those of revolution and force. the referendum itself, first set up locally with the most reactionary intentions,[ ] has come to be valued--whether wisely or unwisely--by radicals and conservatives alike; and while it seems to offer a possibility of appeals to demotic ignorance and passion[ ] while these subsist, and to be unnecessary where they do not, it is at least a guarantee of the decisiveness of any great constitutional step taken under it. historically speaking, the consummation thus far is a great democratic achievement, and the whole drift of federal legislation is towards an increased stability of union. on the other hand, despite a characteristic menace from bismarck,[ ] the international position of switzerland appears to be as safe as that of any other european state, great or small. any attempt on its independence by any one power would infallibly be resisted by others. as regards the true political problems, those of domestic life, the swiss case presents the usual elements. from dangerous religious strife (the jesuits being excluded) it seems likely to be preserved in future by the rationalising force of the socialist movement; but that movement in turn tells of the social problem. a country of not readily extensible resources, switzerland exhibits nearly as clearly as does holland the dangers of over-population. the old resource of foreign enlistment being done with,[ ] surplus population forces a continual emigration, largely from the rural districts, where the lands are for the most part heavily mortgaged.[ ] the active industrialism of the towns--with their large manufacture of clocks and watches, cottons and silks--involves a large importation of foreign food, with which native agriculture cannot advantageously compete. thus, as in the eighteenth century, the pinch falls on the country, while the towns are in comparison thriving. the relatively high death-rate of recent years raises an old issue. malthus has told[ ] how in the eighteenth century a panic arose concerning the prudential habits of the population in the way of late marriages and small families, and how thereafter encouragements to early marriage had led to much worsening of the lot of many of the people. with a small birth-rate there had been a small death-rate; whereas the rising birth-rate went with rising misery.[ ] perhaps through the influence of his treatise, the movement of demand for increase of population seems to have died out, and the practice of prudence to have regained economic credit. it would appear, however, that within the past half-century the conditions as to population have again somewhat worsened. at , when nearly half of all the men married per year in england were under twenty years of age, the normal marrying age in the vaud was thirty or thirty-one; and there had existed in a number of the old catholic cantons laws inflicting heavy fines on young people who married without proving their ability to support a family.[ ] the modern tendency is to abandon such paternal modes of interference; and it does not appear that personal prudence thus far replaces them, though on the other hand there was in the first half of last century a marked recognition by swiss publicists of the sociological law of the matter. thus m. edward mallet of geneva pointed out before that the chances of life had steadily gone on increasing with the lessening of the birth-rate for centuries back.[ ] his tables run:-- ----------------------------+--------+---------+------- life chances. | years. | months. | days. ----------------------------+--------+---------+------- | | | towards end of th century | | | in th century | | | in the years - | | | " " - | | | " " - | | | " " - | | | ----------------------------+--------+---------+------- the statistician's summary of the case is worth citing:-- "as prosperity advanced, marriages became fewer and later; the proportion of births was reduced, but greater numbers of the infants born were preserved. in the early and barbarous periods the excessive mortality was accompanied by a prodigious fecundity. in the last few years of the seventeenth century a marriage still produced five children and more; the probable duration of life was not twenty years, and geneva had scarcely , inhabitants. towards the end of the eighteenth century there were scarcely three children to a marriage; and the probability of life exceeded thirty-two years. at the present time a marriage produces only two and three-quarter children; the probability of life is forty-five years; and geneva, which exceeds , in population, has arrived at a high degree of civilisation and material prosperity. in the population appeared to have attained its summit: the births barely replaced the deaths." but in the population of geneva (canton) was , ;[ ] and the figures of swiss emigration--averaging about , per annum--tell their own tale. increasing industrialism, as usual, has meant conjugal improvidence. once more the trouble is not smallness of population, but undue increase. as protestantism appears to increase slightly more than catholicism, no blame can in this case be laid on the catholic church. but in switzerland, as elsewhere, catholicism tends to illiteracy. in the protestant cantons the proportion of school-attending children is as one to five; in the half-and-half cantons it is as one to seven; and in the catholic it is as one to nine. this, and no tendency of race or _direct_ tendency of creed, is the explanation of the relative superiority of protestant to catholic cantons in point of comfort and freedom from mendicancy; for the cantons remarked by travellers for their prosperity are indifferently french-and german-speaking, while the less prosperous are either german or mixed.[ ] the fact that the three oldest forest cantons are among the more backward is a reminder that past-worship, there at its height, is always a snare to civilisation. describing these cantons over half-a-century ago, grote spoke severely of "their dull and stationary intelligence, their bigotry, and their pride in bygone power and exploits."[ ] the reproach is in some measure applicable to other parts of switzerland, as to other nations in general; and it must cease to be deserved before the republic, cultured and well administered as it is, can realise republican ideals. but the existing federation of the helvetic cantons, locally patriotic and self-seeking as they still are, is a hopeful spectacle--for this among other reasons, that it is a perpetual reminder of the possibility of federations of states, even at a stage of civilisation far short of any utopia of altruism. footnotes: [footnote : "to one whose studies lie in the contemplation of historical phenomena [the swiss cantons] comprise between the rhine and the alps a miniature of all europe.... to myself in particular they present an additional ... interest from a certain political analogy (nowhere else to be found in europe) with ... the ancient greeks" (grote, _seven letters concerning the politics of switzerland_ [ ], ed. , pref.).] [footnote : "what the cantons mostly stand chargeable with, is the feeling of cantonal selfishness" (grote, as cited, p. ). compare, in the work of sir f.o. adams and c.d. cunningham on _the swiss confederation_ (éd. française par loumyer, , p. ), the account of how, after the most fraternal meetings in common of the citizens of the different cantons, "each confederate, on returning home, begins to yield to his old jealousy, and thinks of hardly anything but the particular interests of his canton."] [footnote : vieusseux, _history of switzerland_, , p. .] [footnote : rilliet, _les origines de la confédération suisse_, , pp. - ; dierauer, _geschichte der schweizerischen eidgenossenschaft_, , i, .] [footnote : rilliet, pp. , , .] [footnote : j. von müller, _geschichte der schweizerischen eidgenossenschaft_, ed. , i, .] [footnote : müller, i, ; rilliet, pp. - . the men of schwytz were associated as concurrers with the powerful counts of lenzburg in disputes with the monastery.] [footnote : it seems just possible that a confederation of tribes existed in the alps at the beginning of the fifth century--on the theory, that is, that the _bagaudæ_ of that period were so called from a celtic word _bagard_, meaning a cluster. see the editorial note in bohn ed. of gibbon, iii, .] [footnote : rilliet, pp. _ff._; dierauer, i, .] [footnote : having sworn an oath to stand by each other, they called themselves _eidgenossen_=oathfellows, confederates. the old spellings, _eitgnozzen_ and _eidgnosschaft_ (dierauer, i, , _n._; dändliker, _geschichte der schweiz_, i, --in the old tell song), show how easily could arise the later french form "huguenots."] [footnote : dierauer, pp. , ; rilliet, pp. , , .] [footnote : cp. rilliet, p. .] [footnote : rilliet, _origines_, p. .] [footnote : at morgarten the infantry of the austrian force was in large part furnished by the other germanic towns and cantons of zurich, winterthur, zug, lucerne, sempach, and aargau. when the cavalry were discomfited, the foot would not be very energetic.] [footnote : this fact, as well as the unequal status of glarus, was till recently slurred over in the patriotic tradition. see, for instance, the account of vieusseux, _history of switzerland_, pp. - . cp. the results of exact research in dierauer, i, ; dändliker, _geschichte der schweiz_, , i, , and _short history_, eng. tr. pp. , , , . zug returned to the confederation in ; glarus, as a connection only, in , and as a full member in .] [footnote : cp. dierauer, i, , and freeman, _history of federal government_, ed. , pp. , .] [footnote : zurich alone is said to have spent two million francs in buying land between and .] [footnote : cp. zschokke, _des schweizerlands geschichte_, kap. , te aufl., p. .] [footnote : prof. dändliker, in his _short history_ (eng. tr. p. ), has the odd expression that "in those times of the surging of party strife the towns formed a quiet refuge for the cultivation of the intellectual life." the whole of his own history goes to show that no such quiet cultivation took place, or could take place.] [footnote : cp. the author's _buckle and his critics_, pp. - .] [footnote : zschokke, _des schweizerlands geschichte_, te aufl. , p. .] [footnote : cp. dändliker, ii, , ; _short history_, pp. , , ; dierauer, ii, ; vieusseux, pp. , , ; zschokke, as above cited.] [footnote : cp. freeman, _history of federal government_, nd ed. pp. , .] [footnote : vieusseux, p. .] [footnote : cp. menzel, _geschichte der deutschen_, kap. ; dändliker, _geschichte der schweiz_, ii, - ; zschokke, _des schweizerlands geschichte_, kap. , p. ; vieusseux, p. .] [footnote : on this see vieusseux, p. .] [footnote : vieusseux, pp. - , .] [footnote : zschokke, kap. .] [footnote : vieusseux, p. . zurich, however, on zwingli's urging, restricted villenage and lessened tithes (dändliker, _short history_, p. ).] [footnote : the number printed rose speedily to thirty-eight in a year, then again to sixty. two thousand men were employed in the printing industry (dändliker, ii, ).] [footnote : dändliker, ii, , ; _short history_, p. .] [footnote : dändliker, _geschichte_, ii, .] [footnote : _id._ _short history_, p. .] [footnote : _id._ _geschichte_, ii, .] [footnote : _id._ _ib._ ii, .] [footnote : _id._ _ib._ ii, - ; _short history_, pp. , .] [footnote : _id._ _geschichte_, ii, , - .] [footnote : _id._ _ib._ ii, _ff._, _ff._, , .] [footnote : _id._ _ib._ i, - . only masters were admitted to membership.] [footnote : _id._ _short history_, pp. , , .] [footnote : _id._ _ib._ p. .] [footnote : _id._ _ib._ p. the abuse was at its height in the catholic cantons, but the protestant participated, even soon after the reformation (_id._ p. ; _geschichte_, ii, ).] [footnote : _id._ _short history_, p. .] [footnote : _id._ _geschichte_, i, ; ii, ; _short history_, p. .] [footnote : zschokke, as cited, p. ; dändliker, _short history_, p. .] [footnote : dändliker, _short history_, p. .] [footnote : see the extremely interesting investigation of m. de candolle in his _histoire des sciences et des savants depuis deux siècles_, , p. _ff._ cp. ph. godet, _histoire littéraire de la suisse française_, , p. , as to the general influence.] [footnote : cp. dändliker, _geschichte_, iii, - ; _short history_, pp. - .] [footnote : _id._ _geschichte_, iii, - .] [footnote : _id._ _ib._ iii, - . england is found learning from switzerland on this side. in the volume of translations entitled _foreign essays on agriculture and the arts_, published in , the majority of the papers are by swiss writers. hume ("of the populousness of ancient nations," _essays_, ed. , i, ) writes that in switzerland in his day "we find at once the most skilful husbandmen and the most bungling tradesmen that are to be met with in europe."] [footnote : dändliker, _short history_, p. . under louis xiv there had been , swiss troops in the french service. in there were only , . but there were six swiss regiments in the dutch army, four at naples, and four in spain (vieusseux, p. ).] [footnote : dändliker, _geschichte_, iii, , .] [footnote : _id._ _ib._ iii, .] [footnote : _id._ _short history_, p. .] [footnote : dändliker, _short history_, p. . in the french found in the bernese treasury thirty millions of francs in gold and silver.] [footnote : napoleon's sayings on swiss politics, declaring in favour of cantonal home rule and federation, are among his most statesmanlike utterances; see them in vieusseux, pp. - . the originals are given in thibaudeau's _mémoires sur le consulat_, .] [footnote : cp. grote's _seven letters_, nd ed. p. .] [footnote : see grote's account, pp. , .] [footnote : adams and cunningham, _la confédération suisse_, éd. loumyer, , p. .] [footnote : thus the catholic clergy between and used it to reject measures of educational reform (grote, p. ; cp. p. ). adams and cunningham do not appear to recognise this conservative origin, pointing rather (p. ) to the fact that the conservatives at first opposed the application of the referendum to federal affairs, and attributing the first conception (p. ) to the radicals. there appears to be a conflict of evidence. in any case the system is now accepted all round.] [footnote : see the opinion of m. droz concerning the drawbacks of the facultative referendum--that is, the permissible demand for it by , votes in cases where it is not obligatory as affecting the constitution--as cited by adams and cunningham, éd. loumyer, p. .] [footnote : see m. loumyer's note to his translation of adams and cunningham's work, p. .] [footnote : in there were still swiss regiments in the french service, and a swiss legion was enrolled by england for the crimean war. this seems to be the last instance of the old practice.] [footnote : adams and cunningham, as cited, p. .] [footnote : _essay_, bk. ii, ch. v.] [footnote : _id._ th ed. pp. - .] [footnote : kay, _the social condition and education of the people in england and europe_, , i, , , , . kay unfortunately does not go into history, and we are left to conjecture as to the course of opinion between the issue of malthus's _essay_ and .] [footnote : see kay, as cited. compare the earlier calculations to similar effect cited by malthus.] [footnote : an increase of nearly , in eleven years.] [footnote : cp. kay, as cited, i, - .] [footnote : _seven letters_, p. .] chapter vi portugal § . _the rise and fall of portuguese empire_ for european history portugal is signalised in two aspects: first, as a "made" kingdom, set up by the generating of local patriotism in a medieval population not hereditarily different from that of the rest of the peninsula; secondly, as a small state which attained and for a time wielded "empire" on a great scale. the beginnings of the local patriotism are not confidently to be gathered from the old chronicles,[ ] which reduce the process for the most part to the calculated action of the queen theresa (fl. - ), certainly one of the most interesting female figures in history. but the main process of growth is simple enough. a series of warrior kings made good their position on the one hand against spain, and on the other conquered what is now the southern part of portugal (the ancient lusitania) from the moors. only in a limited degree did their administration realise the gains conceivable from a differentiation and rivalry of cultures in the peninsula; but in view of the special need for such variation in a territory open to few foreign culture-contacts, the portuguese nationality has counted substantially for civilisation. it would have counted for much more if in the militant catholic period the portuguese crown had not followed the evil lead of spain in the three main steps of setting up the inquisition, expelling the jews, and expelling the moriscoes. on the portuguese as on the northern european coasts, seafaring commerce arose on a basis of fishing;[ ] agriculturally, save as to fruits and wines, portugal was undeveloped; and the conquered moorish territory, handed over by the king in vast estates to feudal lords, who gave no intelligent encouragement to cultivation, long remained sparsely populated.[ ] the great commercial expansion began soon after king john ii, egregiously known as "the perfect," suddenly and violently broke the power of the feudal nobility ( - ), a blow which made the king instantly a popular favourite, and which their feudal methods had left the nobles unable to return. in the previous generation prince henry the navigator had set up a great movement of maritime discovery, directed to commercial ends; and from this beginning arose the remarkable but short-lived empire of portugal in the indies. that stands out from the later episodes of the dutch and british empires in that, to begin with, the movement of discovery was systematically fostered and subsidised by the crown, prince henry giving the lead; and that in the sequel the whole commercial fruits of the process were the crown's monopoly--a state of things as unfavourable to permanence as could well be conceived. but even under more favourable conditions, though the portuguese empire might have overborne the dutch, it could hardly have maintained itself against the british. the economic and military bases, as in the case of holland, were relatively too narrow for the superstructure. what is most memorable in the portuguese evolution is the simple process of discovery, which was scientifically and systematically conducted in the hope of sailing round africa to india. the list of results is worth detailing. in perestrello discovered the island of porto santa; in zarco and vaz found madeira, not before charted; and in the next twenty years the canary islands, the azores, santa maria, and st. miguel swelled the list. in cape bojador was doubled by gil eannes, and the rio d'ouro was reached in by baldaya; in nuno tristan attained cape blanco; in he found the river senegal; d. dias reaching guinea in the same year, and cape verde in . from tristan's voyage of dates the slave trade, which now gave a sinister stimulus to the process of discovery; every cargo of negroes being eagerly bought for the cheap cultivation of the moorish lands, still poorly populated under the feudal regimen.[ ] the commercial and slave-trading purpose may in part account for the piecemeal nature of the advance;[ ] for it was not till that the islands of fernando po were discovered and the equator crossed; and not till that cam reached the congo.[ ] but two years later bartholomew dias made the rest of the way to the cape of good hope, a much greater advance than had before been made in thirty years; and after a pause in the chronicles of eleven years, vasco da gama sailed from lisbon to calcutta. meantime the perfect king, preoccupied with the african route, made in his great mistake of finally dismissing columbus from his court as a visionary. had portugal added the new hemisphere to her list of discoveries, it would have been stupendous indeed. as it is, this "celtic" people, sailing in poor little vessels obviously not far developed from the primary fishing-smack, had done more for the navigation and charting of the world than all the rest of europe besides. and still the expansion went rapidly on; the reign of manuel, "the fortunate," reaping even more glory than that of his predecessor, who in turn had rewards denied to the pioneer promoter, prince henry. in the year brazil was reached by cabral, and labrador by corte-real; and in castella discovered the islands of st. helena and ascension. amerigo vespucci, whose name came into the heritage of the discovery of columbus, explored the rio plata and paraguay in - ; coutinho did as much for madagascar and the mauritius in ; almeida in found the maldive islands; malacca and sumatra were attached by sequiera in ; the moluccas by serrano in ; and the ile de bourbon in by mascarenhas. in eastern asia, again, coelho in sailed up the coast of cochin china and explored siam; andrade reached canton in and pekin in ; and in the invincible magellan, entering the service of spain,[ ] achieved his great passage to the pacific.[ ] no such century of navigation had yet been seen; and all this dazzling enlargement of life and knowledge was being accomplished by one of the smallest of the european kingdoms, while england was laggardly passing from the point of agincourt, by the way of the wars of the roses, to that of the field of the cloth of gold, producing at that stage, indeed, more's _utopia_, but yielding no fruits meet therefor. when, however, there followed on the process of discovery the process of commerce, the advantages accruing to the monarchic impulse and control were absent. always as rigidly restrictive in its pursuit of discovery and commerce as the ancient carthaginians had been,[ ] the portuguese crown was as much more restrictive than they in its practice as an absolute monarchy is more concentrated than an oligarchy. whatever progress was achieved by the portuguese in india was in the way of vigorous conquest and administration by capable governors like albuquerque (_d._ ) and da castro (_d._ ), of whom the first showed not only military but conciliatory capacity, and planned what might have been a triumphant policy of playing off hindu princes against mohammedan. but the restrictive home-policy was fatal to successful empire-building where the conditions called for the most constant output of energy. though the portuguese race has shown greater viability in india than either the dutch or the english, it could not but suffer heavily from the climate in the first days of adaptation. the death-rate among the early governors is startling; and the rank and file cannot have fared much better.[ ] all the while swarms of the more industrious portuguese, including many jews, were passing to brazil and settling there.[ ] to meet this drain there was needed the freest opening in india to private enterprise; whereas the portuguese crown, keeping in its own hands the whole of the indian products extorted by its governors, and forcing them to send cargoes of gratis goods for the crown to sell, limited enterprise in an unparalleled fashion.[ ] the original work of discovery and factory-planting, indeed, could not have been accomplished by portuguese private enterprise as then developed; but the monarchic monopoly prevented its growth. the jews had been expelled ( ), and with them most of the acquired commercial skill of the nation;[ ] the nobles had become as subservient to and dependent on the throne as those of spain were later to be; and already the curse of empire was impoverishing the land as it was to do in spain. as was fully realised in the eighteenth century by the great pombal,[ ] the mere possession of gold mines destroyed prosperity, the imaginary wealth driving out the real; but before portugal was ruined by her brazilian mines she was enfeebled by the social diseases that afflicted ancient rome. slave labour in the moorish provinces drove out free; the rural population elsewhere thinned rapidly under the increasing drain of the expeditions of discovery, colonisation, and conquest; and only in the rapidly increasing population of lisbon, which trebled in eighty years, was there any ostensible advance in wealth to show for the era of empire. even in lisbon, by the middle of the sixteenth century, the negro slaves outnumbered the free citizens.[ ] and over these conditions of economic and political decadence reigned the inquisition. in portugal, as in spain, the period of incipient political decay is the period of brilliant literature; the explanation being that in both cases middle-class and upper-class incomes were still large and the volume of trade great, there being thus an economic demand for the arts, while the administration was becoming inept and the empire weakening. in both cases, too, there was less waste of energy in war than in the ages preceding. as lope de vega and calderon build up a brilliant drama after the armada and the loss of half the netherlands, and velasquez is sustained by philip iv, so camoens writes his epic, gil vicente his plays, and barros his history, in the reign of john iii, when portugal is within a generation of being annexed to spain, and within two generations of being bereft of her asiatic empire by the dutch. at such a stage, when wealth still abounds, and men for lack of science are indifferent to such phenomena as multiplication of slaves and rural depopulation, a large city public can evoke and welcome literature and art. it was so in augustan rome. and the sequel is congruous in all cases. mr. morse stephens in this connection affirms (_portugal_, p. ) that "it has always been the case in the history of a nation which can boast of a golden age, that the epoch of its greatest glory is that in which its literature chiefly flourished.... it was so with portugal. the age which witnessed the careers of its famous captains and conquerors was also the age of its greatest poets and prose writers." the proposition on inquiry will be found to be inaccurate in its terms and fallacious in its implications. as thus: ( ) greek literature is, on the whole, at its highest in the period of plato, aristophanes, euripides, and aristotle; while the period of "glory" or expansion must be placed either earlier or later, under alexander, when the golden age of literature is past. ( ) the synchronism equally breaks down in the case of rome. there is little literature in the period of the triumph over cartilage; and literature does not go on growing after augustus, despite continued military "glory." trajan had neither a horace nor a virgil. ( ) in england the "glory" of marlborough's victories evokes addison, not shakespeare, who does most of his greatest work under james i. and though chaucer chanced to flourish under edward iii, there is no fine literature whatever alongside of the conquests of henry v. ( ) in germany, schiller and goethe, fichte and hegel, wrote in a period of political subordination, and heine before the period of bismarckism. who are the great writers since? ( ) in france, the period of napoleon is nearly blank of great writers. they abounded after the fall of his empire and the loss of his conquests. ( ) the great literary period of spain begins with the decline of the spanish empire. ( ) the great modern literature of the scandinavian states has arisen without any national "glory" to herald it. it is hardly necessary to bring further evidence. it remains only to point out that in portugal itself the brilliant literary reign is not the period of discovery, since all the great exploration had been done before john iii came to the throne. it is true that the retrospect of an age of conquest and effort _may_ stimulate literature in a later generation; but the true causation is in a literary _plus_ a social sequence, though the _arrest_ of literary development is always caused socially and politically. portuguese and spanish literature and drama alike derive proximately from the italian renaissance. when both polities were in full decadence, with the inquisition hung round their necks, their intellectual life necessarily drooped. but it is pure fallacy to suppose--and here mr. stephens would perhaps acquiesce--that a period of new conquest is _needed_ to elicit new and original literature. homer, plato, dante, boccaccio, montaigne, shakespeare, bacon, molière, voltaire, goethe, leopardi, poe, balzac, heine, flaubert, hawthorne, tourguenief, ruskin, ibsen--these are in no rational sense by-products of militarism or "expansion." given the right social and economic conditions, spain and portugal may in the twentieth century produce greater literature than they ever had, without owning a particle of foreign empire any more than do sweden and norway. the causes of the decline of the portuguese empire are very apparent. at the best, with its narrow economic basis in home production, it would have had a hard struggle to beat off the attack of the dutch and english; but the royal policy, reducing all portuguese life to dependence on the throne, had withered the national energies before the dutch attack was made. hence the easy fall of the crown to philip of spain when, the succession failing, he chose to grasp it ( ): the nation had for the time lost the power of self-determination; and under the spanish dominion the portuguese possessions in the indies were defended against the dutch and english with but a moiety even of the energy that a portuguese king might have elicited. so the imposing beginnings came well-nigh to naught, the portuguese empire lasting in its entirety, as a trade monopoly, for just a hundred years. within the first thirty or forty years of the seventeenth century dutch and english, moslems, and even danes, had captured from spain-ruled portugal the moluccas, java, most of its indian territory, its persian and chinese settlements, and much of the coast of brazil; and the two former enemies harried at sea what oriental trade it had kept. the rest of the indian settlements were lost in the next generation. "empire" had run for portugal the usual course. it was at this stage that the new life of the nation began. in came the successful revolt against spain; and the dutch power in brazil, which had seemed decisively established under prince maurice of nassau, was entirely overthrown within ten years after his recall in . in portugal the revolution was primarily the work of the nobility, exasperated by spanish arrogance and exclusiveness; but they were effectually supported by the people for the same reason; and the state of spain, financially decrepit and embroiled in war abroad and rebellion in catalonia, left the new dynasty of braganza able to maintain itself, with french help, against the clerical and other elements of pro-spanish reaction. the overthrow of the dutch in brazil was almost against the new king's will, for they had at first supported him against spain; but the movement there was as spontaneous, and fully as well justified, as the revolt at home against spain itself. § . _the colonisation of brazil_ brazil was and is in fact for portugal the analogue to the north american colonies of britain. where "empire" was sought in the indies as a means of revenue, savage brazil, after the gold-seeking rush of which first raised it above the status of a penal settlement, was a colony, resorted to by men--many of them jews--seeking freedom from the inquisition, and men driven from the soil by slave-labour seeking land to till for their own subsistence.[ ] all things considered, it has been one of the soundest processes of colonisation in history. the low state of the autochthonous inhabitants is sufficient proof of buckle's proposition that there the combination of great heat and great moisture made impossible a successful primary civilisation, nature being too unmanageable for the natural or primitive man.[ ] the much higher development of pre-european civilisation not only in mexico and peru but among the north american indians[ ] can be explained in no other way. but that science may not in time so exploit the natural forces as to turn them to the account of a high tertiary civilisation is an assumption we are not entitled to make, though buckle apparently inclined to it. when he wrote, the population of brazil was computed at six millions. to-day it stands at over twenty-three millions;[ ] and in brazil the prospect has never been reckoned otherwise than hopeful. the progress all along, relatively to the obstacles, has been so great that there is no visible ground for anticipating any arrest in the near future. in brazil, from the first, individual and collective energy had the chance that the royal monopoly denied to the asiatic settlements. there was here no exigible revenue to arrange for; and the first colonists, being left to themselves, set up local self-government with elected military magistrates called captains[ ]--an evolution more remarkable than any which took place in the first century of english colonisation in north america. the first governor-general sent out, alfonso de sousa, had the wisdom to preserve and develop the system of captaincies;[ ] and colonisation went steadily on throughout the century. it was first sought, as a matter of course, to enslave the natives; but the attempt led only to a race-war such as grew up later in the new england colonies; and in the catholic as later in the protestant colonies resort was had to the importation of negroes, already so common as slaves in portugal. with a much slower rate of progress, the brazilians have in the end come much better than the north americans out of the social diseases thus set up. in the first place, the jesuits had a missionary success among the aborigines such as the puritans never approached in north america, thus eventually arresting the race-struggle and securing the native stock as an element of population--a matter of obvious importance, in view of the factor of climate. and whereas the labours of the jesuits in india had been turned to naught by the inquisition which they brought in their train, brazil was by the wisdom of the early governors saved from that scourge.[ ] thus fortunately restrained by the civil power, the jesuits did a large part of the work of civilising brazil. so long as the stage of race-war lasted--and till far on in the seventeenth century it was chronic and murderous[ ]--they strove to protect the natives whom they converted.[ ] it is noteworthy, too, that just before expelling the jesuit order from portugal in , by which time it had become a wealthy and self-seeking trading corporation in brazil,[ ] the marquis of pombal secured the emancipation in brazil[ ] of all the indians who had there been enslaved as a result of the old race-wars, thus giving effect to a law which the jesuits had got passed in without being able to enforce it against the slave-owners.[ ] and it is apparently due in part to the culture they maintained[ ] that, though the emancipation of the negroes was to be delayed till late in the nineteenth century, an energetic plea was made for them by a portuguese advocate of batria at the time of the emancipation of the indians.[ ] their own degeneration into a wealth-amassing corporation was an exact economic duplication of the process that had occurred in europe among all the monastic and chivalrous orders of the middle ages in succession.[ ] in the eighteenth century brazil, still limited, for its direct trade, to portugal, so prospered that the loss of empire in asia was much more than compensated even to the royal revenue of portugal; the new discoveries of gold bringing for a time as much as £ , a year to the treasury under the system by which, the goldfields remaining free to their exploiters, the crown received a fifth of the total export.[ ] the trouble was that the influx of gold in portugal, as in spain, paralysed industry; and the country became poorer in a double ratio to its bullion revenue;[ ] and not till this was scientifically realised could a sound polity be raised. but in portugal itself, after the advent of the anti-clerical marquis of pombal, there went on as striking a regeneration of government ( - ) as occurred in spain under charles iii; and though the storms of the french revolution, and the tyrannous reactions which followed it, fell as heavily on portugal as on the rest of the peninsula, its lot is to-day hopeful enough. in common with those of spain and italy, its literature shows plenty of fresh intellectual life; and, again as in their case, its worst trouble is a heritage of bad finance, rather than any lack of progressive intelligence. with sound government, the large outlet offered by brazil to emigration should make portugal a place of plenty--if, that is, its burden of debt be not too great. but herein lies a problem of special importance for the people of great britain. portugal, like britain, began to accumulate a national debt in the period of chronic european war; but between and the sum had actually multiplied tenfold, rising from twenty-five to two hundred and fifty-eight millions of milreis; and at the close of it stood at over one thousand millions, the interest upon which constitutes two-fifths of the total national expenditure. all the while, the balance of productivity is more and more heavily on the side of brazil. as a similar evolution may conceivably take place within the next century or two in england, it will be of peculiar interest to note how portugal handles the problem. when the english coal supply is exhausted, a vast debt, it is to be feared, may be left to a population ill-capable of sustaining it; and the apparently inevitable result will be such a drift of population from britain to america or australia as now goes from portugal to brazil, leaving the home population all the less able to bear its financial burden. it is difficult to see how any arrangement, save a composition with creditors, can meet the portuguese case.[ ] yet within the last twenty years lisbon has been enormously improved; and if but the law of prescribing compulsory education could be enforced, portuguese resources might be so developed as to solve the problem progressively. as it is, the nation is still largely illiterate--a heavy handicap. meanwhile brazil, after passing from the status of colony to that of kingdom or so-called "empire," has become a republic, like the other iberian states of south america; and throughout the nineteenth century its development has been comparatively fortunate. the flight of the portuguese king[ ] thither in gave it independent standing without its paying the price of war; whence came free trade with the friendly states of europe; and when on the return of the king it insisted on maintaining its independence under his son, against the jealous effort of the portuguese cortes to reduce it to a group of dependent provinces,[ ] the tradition of freedom set up by its past prevailed. thus the brazilians effected peacefully what the english colonies in north america achieved only by an embittering and exhausting war; and so far as those of us can judge who are not at home in portuguese literature, the culture evolution in brazil at the date of the french revolution had on some lines equalled that of the united states.[ ] but where the united states were in educative and enriching contact with the relatively high civilisations of england and france, brazil could still draw only on the relatively small intellectual and commercial stores of portugal, with some addition from general commerce with europe. it was in the latter half of the century, when intellectual influences from france had been prevalent, that brazilian possibilities began to emphasise themselves. north american evolution has in the nineteenth century been especially rapid because of several great economic factors: ( ) the tobacco and cotton culture of the period before the civil war; ( ) the very large immigration from europe; ( ) the rush for gold to california, hastening the development of the west; ( ) the abundant yield of coal and iron, quickening every species of manufacture, especially after ( ) a large influx of cheap european labour in the last decades of the nineteenth century. no one of these special factors has been potent in brazil, save for the latterly rapid increase of immigration; there is no great staple of produce that thus far outgoes competition, unless it be caoutchouc; the precious metals are not now abundant; and there is practically no coal, though there is infinite iron. but these are conditions merely of a relatively slow development, not of unprogressiveness; and the presumption is that they will prove beneficent. the rapid commercial development of the united states is excessively capitalistic, in virtue largely of the factor of coal, and the consequent disproportionate stress of manufactures. the outstanding result is a hard-driven competitive life for the mass of the population, with the prospect ahead of industrial convulsions, in addition to the nightmare of the race-hatred between black and white--a desperate problem, from which brazil seems to have been saved. there the problem of slavery was later faced than in the united states, partly, perhaps, because there the slave was less cruelly treated; but the result of the delay was altogether good. there was no civil war; the process of emancipation was gradual, beginning in and finishing with a leap in - ; and no race-hatred has been left behind.[ ] those whose political philosophy begins and ends with a belief in the capacities of the "anglo-saxon race" would do well to note these facts. in brazil the process of emancipation, long favoured as elsewhere by the liberal minds,[ ] was peacefully forced on by economic pressure. it was seen that slave labour was a constant check to the immigration of free labour, and therefore to the development of the country.[ ] when this had become clear, emancipation was only a question of time. the same development would inevitably have come about in north america; and it is not a proof of any special "anglo-saxon" faculty for government that the process there was precipitated by one of the bloodiest wars of the modern world, and has left behind it one of the blackest problems by which any civilisation is faced. the frequent european comments on the revolutions of south america are apt to set up an illusion. all told, those crises represent perhaps less evil than was involved in the north american civil war; and they are hardly greater moral evils than the peaceful growth of financial corruption in the north. in any case, the only revolution in brazil since the outbreak of has been the no less peaceful than remarkable episode of , which dethroned the emperor pedro ii and made brazil a republic. there was as much of pathos as of promise in the event, for pedro had been one of the very best monarchs of the century; but at least the bloodless change was in keeping with his reign and his benign example,[ ] and may indeed be reckoned a due result of them. in fine, brazil--in common with other parts of south america--has a fair chance of being one day the scene of a civilisation morally and socially higher than that now evolving in north america. what may be termed the coal-civilisations, with their factitious rapidity of exploitation, are in the nature of the case relatively ugly and impermanent. that cannot well be the highest civilisation which multiplies by the myriad its serfs of the mine, and by the million its slaves of the machine. in south america the lack of coal promises escape from the worst developments of capitalism,[ ] inasmuch as labour there must be mainly spent on and served by the living processes and forces of nature, there so immeasurable and so inexhaustible of beauty. fuel enough for sane industry is supplied by the richest woods on the planet; and the brazilian climate, even now singularly wholesome over immense areas,[ ] may become still more generally so by control of vegetation. it is a suggestive fact that there the common bent, though still far short of mastery, is in an exceptional degree towards the high arts of form and sound.[ ] it may take centuries to evoke from a population which quietly embraces the coloured types of south america and africa the æsthetic progress of which it is capable;[ ] but the very fact that these types play their physical and artistic part in the growth is a promise special to the case. and if thus the "latin" races--for it is italians, portuguese, spaniards, and french-speaking belgians who chiefly make up the immigrants, though there is a german element also--build up a humanly catholic and soundly democratic life in that part of the planet most prodigally served by nature, subduing to their need the vast living forces which overpowered the primitive man, and at the same time escaping the sinister gift of subterranean fuel--if thus they build up life rather than dead wealth, they will have furthered incomparably the general deed of man. but it is part of the hope set up by the slower rate of a progress which overtakes and keeps pace with nature, instead of forestalling the yearly service of the sun, that when it reaches greatness it will have outlived the instincts of racial pride and hate which have been the shame and the stumbling-block of the preceding ages. should "little" portugal be the root of such a growth, her part will surely have been sufficient. but in the meantime portugal and brazil alike suffer from illiteracy, the bane of the catholic countries;[ ] and that priest-wrought evil must be remedied if their higher life is to be maintained. until this vital drawback is removed the possible social gain to portugal from the revolution of cannot be realised. a republic is more favourable to progress than a monarchy only in so far as it gives freer play and fuller furtherance to all forms of energy; and in the still priest-ridden peninsula the resistance of sacerdotalism to democratic rule is a great stumbling-block. the republic of portugal needs time to establish itself aright. citizens of more "advanced" countries are wont to criticise with asperity shortcomings of administration in the "new" states of our time which were fully paralleled in their own in the past. englishmen who make comparisons between their own political system and that of countries whose constitutions have been reshaped within the present century would do well to consider the state of english government in the latter part of the eighteenth century, after a hundred years of constitutional freedom. nay, in a country where the great parties in our own time perpetually accuse each other of gross and unscrupulous misgovernment, disparagements of the politics of countries which only recently attained self-government are obviously open to discount. suffice it that portugal, albeit by a _via dolorosa_ of violence trodden by other peoples before her, has reaffirmed her part in the movement of civilisation towards a larger and a better life, thus giving the hundredth disproof to the formulas which deny the potentiality of advance to states which have known decadence. footnotes: [footnote : _the story of portugal_, by mr. h. morse stephens, , is the most trustworthy history of portugal in english, giving as it does the main results of the work of the modern scientific school of portuguese historians.] [footnote : schanz, _englische handelspolitik_, , p. .] [footnote : h. morse stephens, _portugal_, , pp. , , , .] [footnote : stephens, _portugal_, pp. , , .] [footnote : many of the dates are to some extent in dispute. cp. stephens, _portugal_, pp. - ; and mr. major's life of _prince henry of portugal_, , _passim_.] [footnote : there is a dubious-looking record that at this time a systematic attempt was made to christianise the natives instead of enslaving them. see it in dunham, _history of spain and portugal_, iii, - .] [footnote : thus the second great expansion of geographical knowledge, like the first, went to the credit of spain through portuguese mismanagement, magellan being alienated by king miguel's impolicy.] [footnote : i follow the dates fixed by mr. stephens, p. .] [footnote : see dunham, iii, , as to the anger of john ii at a pilot's remark that the voyage to guinea was easily made. an attempted disclosure of the fact to spain was ferociously punished.] [footnote : cp. stephens, pp. , .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : stephens, pp. , , .] [footnote : _id._ pp. - .] [footnote : conde da carnota, _the marquis of pombal_, nd. ed. , pp. - .] [footnote : stephens, p. .] [footnote : stephens, pp. , .] [footnote : _introduction_, -vol. ed. i, - ; -vol. ed. pp. - . the formula of heat and moisture, however, applies only generally. one of the climatic troubles of the great province of céará in particular is that at times there is no wet season, and now and then even a drought of whole years. see ch. iii, _climatologie_, by henri morize, in the compilation _brésil en _, pp. , .] [footnote : cp. the extremely interesting treatises of mr. lucien carr, _the mounds of the mississippi valley_ (washington, ), _the position of women among the huron-iroquois tribes_ (salem, ), and on the _food and ornaments of certain american indians _(worcester, mass., - ).] [footnote : increase of eight millions since .] [footnote : stephens, p. .] [footnote : mr. stephens (p. ) states that there were created three vast "chief captaincies." baron de rio-branco, in his _esquisse de l'histoire du brésil_, in the compilation _brésil en _, specifies a division by the king ( - ) into twelve hereditary captaincies. both statements seem true. the policy of non-interference was wisely adhered to by later governors, though thomas de sousa (_circa_ ) introduced a necessary measure of centralisation.] [footnote : stephens, pp. , .] [footnote : baron de rio-branco, _esquisse_, as cited, pp. - .] [footnote : _id._ p. ; stephens, p. .] [footnote : stephens, p. .] [footnote : by decree of june, . conde da carnota, _the marquis of pombal_, as cited, p. .] [footnote : rio-branco, p. .] [footnote : as to which see rio-branco, p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : as to this see the author's _dynamics of religion_, pp. - ; and _short history of freethought_, nd ed. i, _sq._] [footnote : stephens, pp. , .] [footnote : this is very trenchantly set forth in one of the writings of the marquis of pombal, given by carnota in his memoir, pp. - . pombal was on this head evidently a disciple of the french physiocrats, or of montesquieu, who lucidly embodies their doctrines on money (_esprit des lois_, , xxi, ; xxii, _sq._). on the general question of the impoverishment of portugal by her american gold and silver mines, cp. carnota pp. , - , .] [footnote : this has been repeatedly suggested. see the pamphlet of guilherme j.c. henriquez (w.j. c. henry) on _portugal_, .] [footnote : this had been several times proposed in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (rio-branco, p. ).] [footnote : rio-branco, p. .] [footnote : cp. rio-branco, _esquisse_, as cited, p. .] [footnote : f.j. de santa-anna nery, "travail servile et travail libre," in vol. _brésil en _, pp. , ; e. da silva-prado, "immigration," ch. xvi of same compilation, pp. , .] [footnote : rio-branco, p. , _note_.] [footnote : from to , the fifteen years preceding the process of emancipation, the total immigration was only , . from to it amounted to , , and it has since much increased. cp. santa-anna nery, as cited, p. ; and e. da silva-prado, "immigration" as cited, pp. - .] [footnote : it is interesting to note that whereas he was, for a king, an accomplished and enlightened philosopher, of the theistic school of coleridge, the revolutionist movement was made by the brazilian school of positivists. it would be hard to find a revolution in which both sides stood at so high an intellectual level.] [footnote : see, in _brésil en _, the remarks of m. da silva-prado, p. .] [footnote : see the section (ch. iii) on "climatologie," by henri morize, in _brésil en _; in particular the section on "immigration" (ch. xvi) by e. da silva-prado, pp. - .] [footnote : see, in the same volume, the section (ch. xviii) on "l'art," by da silva-prado. he shows that "le brésilien a la préoccupation de la beauté" (p. ).] [footnote : the probabilities appear to be specially in favour of music, to which the native races and the negroes alike show a great predilection (_id._ pp. , ). as m. da silva-prado urges, what is needed is a systematic home-instruction, as liberally carried out as was pedro's policy of sending promising students of the arts to europe. thus far, though education is good, books have been relatively scarce because of their dearness. here again the united states had an immense preliminary advantage in their ability to reproduce at low prices the works of english authors, paying nothing to the writers; a state of things which subsisted long after the states had produced great writers of their own.] [footnote : in portugal, "by a law enacted in , primary education is compulsory; but only a small fraction of the children of the lower classes really attend school" (_statesman's year-book_). in brazil there has been great educational progress in recent years; and in a decree was issued for the reform of the school system, a board of education being established with control over all the schools. education is still non-compulsory.] part vi english history down to the constitutional period chapter i before the great rebellion it is after the great civil war that english political development becomes most directly instructive, because it is thenceforward that the modern political conditions begin to be directly traceable. constitutional or parliamentary monarchy takes at that point a virtually new departure. but we shall be better prepared to follow the play of the forces of attraction and repulsion, union and strife, in the modern period, if we first realise how in the ages of feudal monarchy and personal monarchy, as the previous periods have been conveniently named, the same fundamental forces were at work in different channels. the further we follow these forces back the better we are prepared to conceive political movement in terms of naturalist as opposed to verbalist formulas. above all things, we must get rid of the habit of explaining each phenomenon in terms of the abstraction of itself--as puritanism by "the puritan spirit," christian civilisation by "christianity," and english history by "the english character." we are to look for the causation of the puritan spirit and english conduct and the religion of the hour in the interplay of general instincts and particular circumstances. § at the very outset, the conventional views as to the bias of the "anglo-saxon race"[ ] are seen on the least scrutiny to be excluded by the facts. credited with an innate bent to seafaring, the early english are found to have virtually abandoned the sea after settling in england;[ ] the new conditions altering the sea-going bent just as the older had made it, and continued to do in the case of the scandinavians. credited in the same fashion with a racial bias to commerce, they are found to have been uncommercial, unadventurous, home-staying; and it took centuries of continental influences to make them otherwise. up to the fourteenth century "almost the whole of english trade was in the hands of aliens."[ ] and of what trade the "free" anglo-saxons did conduct, the most important branch seems to have been the slave trade.[ ] as to the mass of the population, whatever were their actual life-conditions--and as to this we have very little knowledge--they were certainly not the "free barbarians" of the old teutonic legend. unfree in some sense they mostly were; and all that we have seen of the early evolution of greece and rome goes to suggest that their status was essentially depressed. in the words of a close student, english economic history "begins with the serfdom of the masses of the rural population under saxon rule--a serfdom from which it has taken a thousand years of english economic evolution to set them free."[ ] this is perhaps an over-statement: serfdom suggests general predial slavery; and this cannot be shown to have existed. but those who repel the proposition seem to take no account of the _tendency_ towards popular depression in early settled communities.[ ] if we stand by the terminology of domesday book, we are far indeed from the conception of a population of freemen. that the mass of the "saxon" english (who included many of non-saxon descent) were more or less "unfree" is a conclusion repeatedly reached on different lines of research. long ago, the popular historian sharon turner wrote that "there can be no doubt that nearly three-fourths of the anglo-saxon population were in a state of slavery" (_history of the anglo-saxons_, th ed. , iii, ); and he is here supported by his adversary dunham (_europe during the middle ages_, cab. cyc. , iii, - ). j.m. kemble later admitted that the "whole population in some districts were unfree" (_the saxons in england_, reprint, , i, ). yet another careful student sums up that "at the time of the conquest we find the larger portion of the inhabitants of england in a state of villenage" (j.f. morgan, _england under the normans_, , p. ). (the interesting question of the racial elements of the population at and after the conquest is fully discussed by the rev. geoffrey hill, _some consequences of the norman conquest_, , ch. i.) later and closer research does but indicate gradations in the status of the unfree--gradations which seem to have varied arbitrarily in terms of local law. (on this, however, see morgan, p. .) the domesday book specifies multitudes of _villani_, _servi_, _bordarii_ (or _cotarii_), as well as (occasionally) large numbers of _sochmanni_, and _liberi homines_. in cornwall there were only six chief proprietors, with , _villani_, , _bordarii_, and , _servi_; in devonshire, , _villani_, , _bordarii_, and , _servi_; in gloucestershire, , _villani_, , _bordarii_, and , _servi_; while in lincolnshire there were , _sochmanni_, , _villani_, , _bordarii_; and in norfolk , _villani_, , _bordarii_, , _servi_, , _sochmanni_, and , _liberi homines_. (cp. sharon turner, as cited, vol. iii, bk. viii, ch. .) thus the largest numbers of ostensible freemen are found in the lately settled danish districts, and the largest number of slaves where most of the old british population survived (ashley, _economic history_, , i, , ; cunningham, _growth of english industry and commerce_, , i, ). "the eastern counties are the home of liberty" (maitland, _domesday book and beyond_, p. ). the main totals are: _bordarii_, , ; _villani_, , ; _servi_, , ; that is, , heads of families, roughly speaking, all of whom were more or less "unfree," out of an entire enumerated male population of , . the constant tendency was to reduce all shades to one of _nativi_ or born villeins (stubbs, _constitutional history_, th ed. i, ); that is to say, the number of absolute serfs tends to lessen, their status being gradually improved, while higher grades tend to be somewhat lowered. prof. vinogradoff's research, which aims at correcting mr. seebohm's, does but disclose that villenage in general had three aspects:--"legal theory and political disabilities would fain make it all but slavery; the manorial system ensures it something of the character of the roman _colonatus_; there is a stock of freedom in it which speaks of saxon tradition" (_villainage in england_, , p. ; cp. seebohm, as cited, p. ; and stubbs, § , i, - ). even the comparatively "free" socmen were tied to the land and were not independent yeomen (ashley, i, ); and even "freedmen" were often tied to a specified service by the act of manumission (dunham, as cited, iii, ). as to teutonic slavery in general, cp. c.-f. allen, _histoire de danemark_, french tr. , i, - , and u.r. burke, _history of spain_, hume's ed. , i, ; as to france, cp. guizot, _essais sur l'histoire de france_, édit. , pp. - ; _histoire de la civilisation en france_, e édit. iii, , - ; and as to the netherlands, see above, pp. - . there is a tendency on the one hand to exaggerate the significance of the data, as when we identify the lot of an ancient serf or villein with that of a negro in the united states of sixty years ago;[ ] and on the other hand to forget, in familiarity with scholarly research, the inevitable moral bearing of all degrees of bondage. the _villanus_ "both is and is not a free man"; but the "not" is none the less morally significant: "though he may be _liber homo_, he is not _francus_";[ ] and his name carries a slur. an immeasurable amount of moral history is conveyed in the simple fact that "slave" was always a term of abuse; that "villain" is just "villein"; that "caitiff" is just "captive"; and that "churl" is just "ceorl." so the "neif" (= _naïf_ = native) becomes the "knave";[ ] the "scullion" the "blackguard"; and the homeless wanderer the "vagabond"; even as for the roman "the guest," _hostis_, was "the enemy." the "rogue" has doubtless a similar descent, and "rogue and peasant-slave" in tudor times, when slavery had ceased, stood for all things contemptible. men degrade and impoverish their fellows, and out of the created fact of deprivation make their worst aspersions; never asking who or what it is that thus turns human beings into scullions, churls, blackguards, knaves, caitiffs, rogues, and villains. the greeks knew that a man enslaved was a man demoralised; but saw in the knowledge no motive for change of social tactics. still less did the saxons; for their manumissions at the bidding of the priest were but penitential acts, in no way altering the general drift of things. green (_short history_, ch. i, § , ed. , pp. , ), laying stress on the manumissions, asserts that under edgar "slavery was gradually disappearing before the efforts of the church." but this is going far beyond the evidence. green seems to have assumed that the laws framed by dunstan were efficacious; but they clearly were not. (cp. c. edmond maurice, _tyler, bale, and oldcastle_, , pp. - .) kemble rightly notes--here going deeper than prof. vinogradoff--that there was a constant process of new slave-making (_saxons_, i, - ; cp. maitland, p. ); and in particular notes how "the honours and security of service became more anxiously desired than a needy and unsafe freedom" (p. ). there is in short a law of worsenment in a crude polity as in an advanced one. green himself says of the slave class that it "sprang mainly from debt or crime" (_the making of england_, , p. ; cp. _short history_, p. ). but debt and "crime" were always arising. compare his admissions in _the conquest of england_, nd ed. pp. , . elsewhere he admits that slaves were multiplied by the mutual wars of the saxons (p. ); and kemble, recognising "crime" as an important factor, agrees (i, ) with eichhorn and grimm in seeing in war and conquest the "principal and original cause of slavery in all its branches." a battle would make more slaves in a day than were manumitted in a year. some slaves indeed, as in the roman empire, were able to buy their freedom (maurice, as cited, p. , and refs.; dunham, as cited, iii, ); but there can have been few such cases. (cp. c.-f. allen, _histoire de danemark_, french tr. i, - , as to the general tendencies of teutonic slavery.) the clergy for a time promoted enfranchisement, and even set an example in order to widen their own basis of power; but as green later notes (ch. v, § , p. ) the church in the end promoted "emancipation, as a work of piety, on all estates but its own." green further makes the vital admission that "the decrease of slavery was more than compensated by the increasing degradation of the bulk of the people.... religion had told against political independence"--for the church played into the hands of the king. during the danish invasions, which involved heavy taxation (_danegeld_) to buy off the invaders, slavery increased and worsened; and cnut's repetition of the old laws against the foreign slave trade can have availed little (maurice, as cited, pp. - ). prof. abdy, after recognising that before the conquest english liberties were disappearing like those of france (_lectures on feudalism_, , pp. , - , ), argues that, though the tenure of the villein was servile, he in person was not bond (app. p. ). "bond" is, of course, a term of degree, like others; but if "not bond" means "freeman," the case will not stand. the sole argument is that "had he been so [bond], it is difficult to understand his admission into the conference [in the procedure of the domesday survey] apparently on an equality with the other members of the inquest." now he was plainly not on an equality. the inquest was to be made through the sheriff, the lord of the manor, the parish priest, the reeve, the bailiff, and _six_ villeins out of each hamlet (_id._ p. ). it is pretty clear that the villeins were simply witnesses to check, if need were, the statements of their superiors. the weightiest argument against the darker view of saxon serfdom is the suggestion of the late prof. maitland (_domesday book_, p. ) that the process of technical subordination, broadly called feudalism, was really a process of infusion of law and order. but he confessedly made out no clear case, and historical analogy is against him. finally, though under the normans the saxon slaves appear to have gained as beside the middle grades of peasants (morgan, _england under the normans_, p. ; ashley, i, ), it is a plain error to state that the bristol slave-trade was suppressed under william by "the preaching of wulfstan, and the influence of lanfranc" (green, _short history_, p. ; also in longer _history_, i, ; so also bishop stubbs, i, , _note_. the true view is put by maurice, as cited, p. ). the historian incidentally reveals later (_short history_, ch. vii, § , p. , proceeding on giraldus cambrensis, _expugnatio hiberniæ_, lib. i, c. ) that "at the time of henry ii's accession ireland was full of englishmen who had been kidnapped and sold into slavery, in spite of royal prohibitions and the spiritual menaces of the english church." (cp. hallam, _middle ages_, iii, , _note_.) he admits, too (p. ), that "a hundred years later than dunstan the wealth of english nobles was sometimes said to spring from breeding slaves for the market." the "market" was for concubines and prostitutes, as well as for labourers. (cp. southey, _book of the church_, ed. , i, , following william of malmesbury; and hallam, as last cited.) gibbon justifiably infers (ch. , bohn ed. iv, ) that the children of the roman slave market of the days of gregory the great, _non angli sed angeli_, were sold into slavery by their parents. "from the first to the last age," he holds, the anglo-saxons "persisted in this unnatural practice." cp. maurice, as cited, pp. - . gregory actually encouraged the traffic in english slaves after he became pope. (_ep. to candidus_, cited in pref. to mrs. elstoh's trans. of the anglo-saxon homily, p. xi.) thus, under saxon, danish, and norman law alike, a slave trade persisted for centuries. as regards the conditions of domestic slavery, it seems clear that the conquest lowered the status of the half-free; but on the other hand "there was a great decrease in the number of slaves in essex between the years and " (morgan, as cited, p. ; cp. maitland, p. ). in saxondom, for centuries before the conquest, "history" is made chiefly by the primitive forces of tribal and local animosity, the northmen coming in to complicate the insoluble strifes of the earlier english, partly uniting these against them, dominating some, and getting ultimately absorbed in the population, but probably constituting for long an extra source of conflict in domestic politics. a broad difference of accent, as in the scandinavian states down to our own day, is often a strain on fellowship. in any case, the anglo-saxons at the time of the conquest, as always from the time of their own entry, showed themselves utterly devoid of the "gift of union" which has been ascribed to their "race," as to the roman. no "celts" were ever more hopelessly divided: the battle of hastings is the crowning proof.[ ] and in the absence of leading and stimulus from a higher culture, so little progressive force is there in a group of struggling barbaric communities that there was only the scantiest political and other improvement in saxon england during hundreds of years. when alfred strove to build up a civilisation, he turned as a matter of course to the franks.[ ] the one civilising force was that of the slight contacts kept up with the continent, perhaps the most important being the organisation of the church. it was the norman conquest, bringing with it a multitude of new contacts, and an entrance of swarms of french and flemish artificers and clerics, that decisively began the civilisation of england. the teutonic basis, barbarous as it was, showed symptoms of degeneration rather than of development. in brief, france was mainly civilised through italy; england was mainly civilised through france. bishop stubbs, after admitting as much (§ , i, , ) and noting the norman "genius for every branch of organisation," proceeds to say "that the norman polity had very little substantial organisation of its own, and that it was native energy that wrought the subsequent transformation." his own pages supply the disproof. see in particular as to the legislative and administrative activity of henry ii, § , i, - . as to the arrest or degeneration of the saxon civilisation, cp. § , i, , ; sharon turner, _history of england during the middle ages_, nd ed. i, , ; h.w. c. davis, _england under the normans and the angevins_, , p. ; pearson, _history of england during the early and middle ages_, , i, , - , , , , ; abdy, as cited above. mr. pearson's testimony, it should be noted, is that of a partisan and eulogist of the "race." gneist, after deciding that the number of the unfree population "erscheint nicht übergross," admits that the dependent stratum of the population must needs always increase, "as a result of the land system. in time of war the class increased through the ruin of the small holdings; in time of peace through the increase of the landless members of families. the favourable effects of a new acquisition through conquest and booty were a gain only to the possessing class" (_geschichte des englischen self-government_, , p. ). he concludes that "the social structure of the anglo-saxons appears to be on the whole unchanging, advancing only in the multiplication of the dependent classes." among the symptoms of degeneration may be noted the retirement of nearly thirty kings and queens into convents or reclusion during the seventh and eighth centuries. this was presumably a result of clerical management. in normandy itself, however, half a century before the conquest, there had arisen a state of extreme tension between the peasantry and their lords; and a projected rising was crushed in germ with horrible cruelty.[ ] william's enterprise thus stood for a pressure of need among his own subjects, as well as for an outburst of feudal ambition; and in making up his force he offered an opportunity of plunder to all classes in his own duchy, as well as to those of other provinces of france. domesday book, says one of its keenest students, "is a geld book"--a survey made to facilitate taxation on the lines of the old danegeld.[ ] william was repeating a roman process. his invasion, therefore, hardly represented the full play of the existing forces of civilisation. these, indeed, had to be renewed again and again in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. but the conditions of the conquest were important for the direction of english political evolution. its first social and psychological effect was to set up new class relations, and in particular a marked division between aristocracy and people, who spoke different languages. this involved a relation of distrust and close class union. when the people's speech began to compete with that of their masters, and the nobles separately began to be on good terms with their people, there would arise wide possibilities of strife as between neighbouring nobles and their retainers; and in scotland the weakness of the crown long gave this free play. but in england, especially after the period of anarchy under stephen, when the early baronage was much weakened and many estates were redivided,[ ] the strength of the crown, rooted in military custom and constantly securing itself, tended to unite the nobles as a class for their own aggrandisement and protection. king after king, therefore, sought the support of the people[ ] against the baronage, as the baronage sought their help against the king; while the church fought for its own share of power and privilege. the history of christendom, indeed, cannot be understood save in the light of the fact that the church, a continuous corporation owning much property as such, is as it were a state within the state,[ ] representing a special source of strife, although its non-military character limits the danger. what the church has repeatedly done is to throw in its lot with king or nobles, or with the democracy (as in switzerland and protestant scotland), according as its economic interests dictate. the famous case of becket, transformed from the king's friend into the king's antagonist, is the most dramatic instance of the church's necessary tendency to fight for its own hand and to act as an independent community. and it is in large part to the check and counter-check of a church, crown, and baronage, all jealously standing on their rights as against each other, that the rise of english constitutionalism is to be traced; the baronage and the church, further, being withheld from preponderance by the strifes arising within their own pale. for even the church, unified at once by its principle, its celibacy, its self-interest, and the pressure of outside forces, exhibits in its own sections, from time to time, the law of strife among competing interests.[ ] the mere strife of interests, however, could not evolve civilisation in such a polity without a constant grafting-on of actual civilising elements from that southern world in which the ancient seeds were again flowering. mere mixing of norman with saxon blood, one teutonic branch with another, could avail nothing in itself beyond setting up a useful variability of type; and the element of french handicraft and culture introduced in the wake of the conquest, though not inconsiderable,[ ] could ill survive such a pandemonium as the reign of stephen. like henry i, stephen depended on the english element as against the baronage; but the struggle brought civilisation lower than it had been since the conquest. with the accession of henry ii ( ) came a new influx of french culture and french speech,[ ] albeit without any departure from the monarchic policy of evoking the common people as against the nobles. thenceforward for over a hundred years the administrative methods and the culture are french, down to the erection of a french-speaking parliament by the southern frenchman simon de montfort. the assumption that some inherent "teutonic" faculty for self-government shaped the process is one of the superstitions of racial and national vanity. dr. c.h. pearson's reiteration of the old "race" dogma (_history of england during the early and middle ages_, i, ) is its sufficient _reductio ad absurdum_. in the english manner, he connects with old _welsh_ usages of revenge the late _irish_ tradition of "lynch law" that has been "transplanted to _america_"--as if it were irishmen who are to-day lynching negroes in the southern states. he explains in the same way "the contrast of french progress by revolutionary movements with the slow, constitutional, onward march of english liberty." on his own showing there was not progress, but deterioration, as regards liberty among the saxons; and the later history of the english common people is largely one of their efforts to make revolutions. in france the revolutions were rather fewer. in denmark and germany, again, there was long relapse and then revolution. for the rest, mr. pearson has contrasted welsh usage of the _sixth_ century with saxon usage of the _eleventh_, this while admitting the lateness of the latter development (pp. , ). we should require only to go back to the blood-feud stage in teutondom to prove the ineradicable tendencies of the anglo-saxon to the _faustrecht_, which in germany survived till the sixteenth century, and to the fisticuffs which occurred in in the english parliament. the reasoning would be on a par with mr. pearson's. mr. j.h. round's way of taking it for granted (_the commune of london_, , pp. - ) that a tendency to strife is permanently and "truly hibernian," belongs to the same order of thought. irishmen are represented as abnormal in inability to unite against a common foe, when just such disunion was shown through whole centuries in saxondom and in scandinavia and in germany; and they are further described as peculiar in leaving their commerce in foreign hands, when such was the notorious practice of the anglo-saxons. one of the most remarkable reversions to the racial way of reasoning is made by mr. h.w. c. davis in his _england under the normans and angevins_ ( ). after setting out with the avowal that the anglo-saxons at the conquest were "decadent," he reaches (p. ) the conclusion that the teutonic races "climb, slowly and painfully it is true, but with a steady and continued progress, from stage to stage of civilisation," while the celtic, "after soaring at the first flight to a comparatively elevated point, are inclined to be content with their achievement, and are ... passed by their more deliberate competitors." how a teutonic race, given these premises, could be "decadent," and be surpassed and finally uplifted by a "latin civilisation" (_id._ p. ), the theorist does not attempt to explain. to no virtue in norman or english character, then,[ ] but to the political circumstances, was it due that there grew up in island england, instead of an all-powerful feudal nobility and a mainly depressed peasantry, as in continental france, a certain balance of classes, in which the king's policy against the nobility restrained and feudally weakened them, and favoured the burghers and yeomen, making sub-tenants king's liegemen; while on the other hand the combination of barons and church against the king restrained him.[ ] a tyrant king is better for the people than the tyranny of nobles; and the destruction of feudal castles by regal jealousy restrains baronial brigandage. regal prestige counts for something as against baronial self-assertion; but aristocratic self-esteem also rests itself, as against a reckless king, on popular sympathy. on the other hand, the town corporations, originating in popular interests, became in turn close oligarchies.[ ] even the class tyranny of the trade gilds, self-regarding corporations in their way,[ ] looking to their own interests and indifferent to those of the outside grades beneath them,[ ] could provide a foothold for the barons in the town mobs, whom the barons could patronise.[ ] what was done by the parliaments of edward iii to allow free entrance to foreign merchants was by way of furthering the interests of the aristocracy, who wanted to deal with such merchants, as against the english traders who wished to exclude them. yet again, the yeomanry and burghers, fostered by the royal policy, develop an important military force, which has its own prestige. nothing can hinder, however, that foreign wars shall in the end aggrandise the upper as against the lower classes, developing as they do the relation of subjection, increasing the specifically military upper class, and setting up the spirit of force as against the spirit of law. in particular, the king's power is always aggrandised when nobility and people alike are led by him to foreign war.[ ] edward iii, indeed, had to make many legislative concessions to the commons in order to procure supplies for his wars; and the expansion of commerce in his reign,[ ] furthered by the large influx of flemish artisans[ ] encouraged by him,[ ] strengthened the middle classes; but all the while the "lower orders" had the worst of it; and the jealousy between traders and artisans, already vigorous in the reign of john, could not be extinguished. and when, after nearly eighty years without a great external war, edward i invaded scotland, there began a military epoch in which, while national unity was promoted, the depressed class was necessarily enlarged, as it had been before the conquest during the danish wars;[ ] and the poor went to the wall. instinct made people and baronage alike loth at first to support the king in wars of foreign aggression; but when once the temper was developed throughout the nation, as against france, the spirit of national union helped the growth of class superiority by leaving it comparatively unchecked. in the period between the conquest and edward i the free population had actually increased, partly by french and flemish immigration in the train of the conquest; partly by norman manumissions; partly through the arrivals of flemish weavers exiled by domestic war;[ ] partly by the new growth of towns under norman influence; partly by reason of the development of the wool export trade, which flourished in virtue of the law and order at length established under the angevin kings, and so stimulated other industry. but from the beginning of the epoch of systematic national war the increase was checked; and save for the period of betterment consequent on the destruction of population by the black death, the condition of the peasantry substantially worsened.[ ] frenchmen were struck by the number of serfs they saw in southern england as compared with france, and by the stress of their servitude.[ ] an apparently important offset to the general restriction of freedom is the beginning of a representative parliamentary system under the auspices of simon de montfort ( ). it is still customary to make this departure a ground for national self-felicitation, though our later historians are as a rule content to state the historical facts, without inferring any special credit to the "anglo-saxon race."[ ] as a matter of fact, simon de montfort's parliament was the application by a naturalised frenchman, under stress of the struggle between his party in the baronage and the king, of an expedient set up a generation before by the emperor frederick ii in sicily, and a century before in spain. there, and not in england, arose the first parliaments in which sat together barons, prelates, and representatives of cities. simon de montfort, son of the leader of the crusade against the albigenses, may well have known of the practice of spain, where in the twelfth century the householders in the cities elected their members. but he must at least have been familiar with the details of the system set up in sicily, to which english attention had been specially called by the effort of henry iii to obtain the sicilian crown for his son edmund; and simon imitated that system in england, not on any exalted principle of justice, but because the smallness of his support among the barons forced him to make the most of the burgher class, who had stood by him in the struggle. he may even, indeed, have taken his idea proximately from the practice of the rebels in normandy before the conquest, when deputies from all the districts met in general assembly and bound themselves by a mutual oath.[ ] thus accidentally[ ] introduced, under a french name,[ ] the representative system is one more of the civilising factors which england owed to southern europe; and, as it was, baronage and burgesses alike failed to maintain simon against the power of the crown, the monarchic superstition availing to divide even the malcontents, as had previously happened after the granting of magna carta by king john. reiterated claims had secured in the eighteenth century the general acceptance of the view that england "set the example" of admitting cities to representation in national diets (so koch, _histor. view of the european nations_, crichton's tr. rd ed. p. ). but as to the priority of the institution in spain, see u.r. burke, _history of spain_, hume's ed. i, ; and prescott, _hist. of the reign of ferdinand and isabella_, kirk's ed. , p. and refs. as to its existence in sicily (_circa_ ), see milman, _hist. of latin christianity_, vi, , proceeding on gregorio, _considerazioni sopra la storia di sicilia_, (ed. a, - , vol. ii, cap. v); and von raumer, _geschichte der hohenstaufen_ (aufg. - , b. vii, haupt. , bd. iii, p. ). cp. von reumont, _the carafas of maddaloni_, eng. tr. , p. , and refs. frederick's assemblies, too, were called _parlamente_. he in turn had, of course, been influenced by the practice, if not of spain, at least of the italian cities, which he wished his own to rival. as to simon's object in summoning burgesses, hallam admits (_europe during the middle ages_, ed. , iii, ) that it "was merely to strengthen his own faction, which prevailed among the commonalty," though the step was too congruous with general developments not to be followed up. compare the admissions of green, pp. - ; stubbs, ii, , ; and the remark of adam smith (_wealth of nations_, bk. iii, ch. iii) that the representation of burghs in the states-general of _all_ the great european monarchies originated spontaneously in the desire of the kings for support against the barons. freeman's statement (_general sketch of european history_, p. ) that under simon we find "the whole english nation, nobles, clergy, and people, acting firmly together" against the king, is quite erroneous. cp. gneist, _geschichte des self-government in england_, , p. . dr. gardiner (_student's history_, p. ), speaking of the presence of city burgesses and knights of the shire in the same parliament under edward iii, writes that "in no other country in europe would this have been possible." he seems to have been entirely unaware of the spanish practice. as the roots of the temper of equality are weakened, the relative prestige of the king is heightened,[ ] provided that in a turbulent age he is strong enough for his functions; though, again, he runs new risks when, in peace, he is weak enough to make favourites, and thus sets up a source of jealousy in the act of surrendering some of his own special prestige. then he doubles the force against him. history has generally represented favourites as unworthy; but there is no need that they should be so in order to be detested; and whether we take gaveston, or buckingham, or bute, we shall always find that the animosity of the favourite's assailants is so visibly excessive as to imply the inspiration of primordial envy quite as much as resentment of bad government. whether it is noble denouncing favoured noble or pym impeaching the duke, there is always the note of primary animal jealousy. § a very obvious and familiar general law, here to be noted afresh, is that the constant and extensive employment of energy in war retards civilisation, by leaving so much less for intellectual work. some sociologists have arrived at the optimistic half-truths that ( ) warfare yields good in the form of chivalry, and that ( ) great wars like the crusades promote civilisation by setting up communication between peoples. but it is not asked whether the good involved in chivalry could not conceivably have been attained without the warfare, and whether (as before noted) there could not have been commerce between east and west without the crusades.[ ] the ancient phoenicians had contrived as much in their day. even the expansion of italian commerce which followed on the crusades went on the lines of a trade already in existence, as is proved once for all by the mere numbers of the vessels supplied to the crusaders by the pisans, genoese, and venetians;[ ] and inasmuch as these republics fought furiously for the monopoly, each grabbing for special privileges,[ ] till genoa overthrew pisa, the total expansion must have been small, and the political disintegration great. nor was it on the whole otherwise with the spirit of chivalry, of which guizot[ ] gives such an attractive picture. it was with the church-made code of chivalrous morals as with the church's code of christian virtue: the ideal and practice were far asunder. as a matter of fact, the rules of chivalry were in part but the rules of prize-fighters,[ ] without which the game could not continuously be played; and they in no way affected the relations of the prize-fighters with other classes, or even their moral relations with each other save in the matter of fighting. to the "common herd" they were not only brutal but base,[ ] recognising no moral obligations in that direction. so too the crusades represent a maximum of strife yielding a minimum of intercourse, which (save for the spirit of religious hate which wrought the strife) could have been attained in peace in tenfold degree by the play of the energy spent in preliminary bloodshed. it is, of course, idle to speak as if the age of warfare might have been different if somebody had anachronistically pointed out the possibilities; but it is worse than idle, on the other hand, to impute a laudable virtue to its impulses because other impulses followed on them. the task of the sociological historian is first to trace sequences, and then to reason from them to the problems of his own age, where most are praise and blame profitable exercises. the lesson of early english history is neither that chivalry is good nor that the feudal knights and kings were ruffians; but that certain things happened to retard civilisation because these had their way, and that similar results would tend to accrue if their ideals got uppermost among us now. thus we have to note that during the long period of frequent dynastic and other civil war from the conquest to the reign of henry ii there was almost no intellectual advance in england, the only traceable gain arising when the king was fighting abroad with his foreign forces. there was no such cause at stake as thrilled into fierce song the desperately battling welsh; and though in the reign of edward iii we have the great poetic florescence of which chaucer is the crown, the inspiration of that literature had come from or through france; and with the depression of france there came the nemesis of depression in english culture. the triumph of edward over france was, broadly speaking, a result of financial rascality, inasmuch as he succeeded by means of the money which he had borrowed from the florentine bankers, and which he never repaid.[ ] he was thus well equipped and financed when the french were not; and he was able to buy off the princes of the empire on the north and east of the french frontier. but though the enterprise thus begun was continued by means of a home revenue raised mainly on the wool trade, the english attempt to dominate france ended in the inevitable way of imperialism, the humiliation of the victors duly following on the misery and humiliation of the vanquished. only the depopulation of the black death prevented extreme misery among the english population; and the conquering king ends his life, as william had done before him, in isolation and ignominy. it may or may not have been a gain that edward's victories over france practically determined the adoption of the middle-class, gallicised english speech[ ] by the upper classes, who had hitherto been french-speaking, like the kings themselves. an anglicising process, such as had been interrupted at the advent of henry ii, had set in when normandy was lost ( ), to be again interrupted on the accession of henry iii, and resumed in the civil wars of his reign. but edward i habitually spoke french, and so did his nobles. they had hitherto looked with true aristocratic scorn on the pretensions of the bourgeoisie--"_rustici londonienses qui se barones vocant ad nauseam_," in the fashion satirised in all ages, down to our own; but in their new relation of hostility and superiority to normandy and to france, they insensibly adopted the language that had been framed by that very bourgeoisie out of saxon, and french and french idioms translated into saxon. cp. pearson, _fourteenth century_, pp. , . prof. earle's quasi-theory of the cause of the recovery of the native tongue (_philology of the english tongue_, rd ed. pp. , ) is purely fanciful. in the end, as he admits, it was not any native dialect, but the artificial composite "king's english," much modified by french, that survived. it is noteworthy that many locutions which pass in the bible for specially pure archaic english, as "fourscore and ten," are simply translations of a french idiom, itself ancient celtic translated into romance. (cp. the _introduction to the study of the history of language_, by strong, logeman, and wheeler, , p. .) the rev. w. denton, in his learned and instructive survey of the subject (_england in the fifteenth century_, , pp. - ), remarks that "from some cause, now difficult to trace, great encouragement was given to french in the reign of henry iii. probably the foreign tastes and partialities of the king had something to do with this" (p. ). they certainly had. as soon as he could wield power, "hordes of hungry poitevins and bretons were at once summoned over to occupy the royal castles and fill the judicial and administrative posts about the court" (green, _short hist_., ch. iii, § , p. ), as had happened before under henry ii. mr. denton rightly notes (p. ) how "in the reign of henry iii the descendants of norman barons, and the sons of anglo-norman fathers, were proud of the name of englishmen, and took up arms against the king's norman and angevin favourites, whom they despised as foreigners." this is the true line of causation. there is doubtless something in the theory that the general resort to the use of english in the schools was a result of the black death--the majority of the clergy being destroyed and the new teachers being unable to instruct in french (gasquet, _the great pestilence_, , p. ); but there were certainly other causes involved. mr. de montmorency (_state intervention in english education_, , pp. - ) develops gasquet's argument with much force, noting further that many of the foreign priests who survived forsook their charges. it might be added that the native peasantry necessarily counted for more in a social as in an economic sense, after the great fall in their numbers. but the fact that the death came in the period of the successful french wars of edward iii is clearly of capital importance. but for the moral reaction from these wars, the tendency would have been to procure new relays of french priests. it is indeed conceivable that, but for hostilities with france, french would have steadily gained ground through literature, depressing and discrediting the vernacular. on this view it was the continuance of resistance by the welsh that probably prevented the absorption of the saxon speech by that of the conquered british; and it is similarly arguable that it was the relation of hostility between the carlovingian franks and the more easterly germans that determined the supremacy of the romance speech in french. the point is worth psychological investigation. though, however, chaucer's own new-english work is part of the result, the intellectual gain stops there for the time being. no nation, from rome to napoleonic france, ever helped its own higher culture by destroying other states.[ ] the french wars of henry v were not less injurious to english civilisation[ ] than the desperate civil wars which followed them, when english medieval culture reached, relatively to the rest of europe, its lowest point.[ ] and these wars, it is always important to remember, were the result of the young king's acting on the doctrine (doubtfully ascribed to his father, but in any case all too easily acquired by kings) that whereas peace gave headway to domestic sedition, foreign war unified the mass of the people and fixed them to their leader. the shameless aggression on france did so unify them for the moment, as imperialism among an unmoralised public may always be trusted to do; and it left them more demoralised and divided than ever, in due sequence. in all likelihood it was the new bribe of foreign plunder that first drew men away from lollardism, considered as an outcome of economic discontent, thus preparing the collapse of the movement on its moral side.[ ] one man's egoism could thus sway the whole nation's evolution for evil,[ ] setting up for it the ideal which haloed him, and which survived him in virtue of the accident that the nemesis of his course fell upon his successors rather than on him. § in the matter of plebeian subjection, the second half of the fourteenth century supplies the proof of the tendency of the period of war. the great gain to the serfs in that period was the result of the depopulation caused by the black death ( - )--a relation of cause and effect which is still ignored by some writers, in their concern to insist that english labour was once better off than at present. but it was later in the same half-century that the rising of the "jacquerie," which appears to have been in its origin strictly a revolt against taxation,[ ] was so bloodily repressed. the manner of the revolt sufficiently proves that the peasantry had gained new heart with the improvement in their lot which followed on the pestilence, in spite of laws to keep down wages;[ ] but even this improvement could not strengthen them sufficiently to make them hold their own politically in against the aristocracy, gentry, and middle class, now hardened in class insolence. it would seem as if those who rose to the status of tenants[ ] after the depopulation sought in their turn to keep down those who remained landless servitors. after the southern and eastern risings had been crushed, the men of essex were told by richard, who had given them charters of freedom and immediately afterwards revoked them, inclined as he was to protect the serfs in a measure against their masters, that "bondsmen they had been and bondsmen they should remain, in worse bondage than before"; and the following parliament declared that the landowners would never consent to the freeing of the serfs, "were they all to die for it in a day." it is noteworthy, on the side of economics, that despite this temper serfage did gradually die out, the people being for long unable to multiply up to the old level, by reason of restraint, ill-usage, civil war, the decline of tillage and the grouping of holdings, and the high death-rate. jack cade's rebellion, in , indicated the persistence of the democratic spirit, contending as it did for the suppression of the system under which the nobles plundered the kingdom while the king was imbecile. the question as to the rate at which the population recovered from the black death has been discussed by prof. thorold rogers, mr. seebohm, and prof. cunningham (see the latter's _growth of english industry and commerce_, , i, ). prof. rogers, on the one hand, maintains that by , when the tax rolls seem to give a population of about two and a half millions (cp. dunton, _england in the fifteenth century_, p. ), the population had recovered all it had lost in the plague, he being of opinion that the england of that age could not at any time support more than two and a half millions. mr. seebohm, with whom dr. cunningham substantially concurs (see also pearson, _fourteenth century_, p. , and gasquet, _the great pestilence_, , p. ), thinks that the return of the plague in and , and the unsettled state of the country, must have prevented recuperation; and, accepting the loose calculation that the plague destroyed half the population (mr. pearson says "one-half or two-thirds"; dr. gasquet endorses the general view that "fully one half" were destroyed), he concludes that the population before may have been five millions. the truth surely lies between these extremes. that the population should not at all have recovered in twenty-five years is extremely unlikely. that it should have restored a loss of thirty-three per cent in twenty-five years, which is what prof. rogers's position amounts to, is still more unlikely (see his _six centuries of work and wages_, pp. , , where the mortality is estimated at one-third). it is besides utterly incongruous with prof. rogers's own repeated assertion that "during the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries the population of england and wales was almost stationary" (_industrial and commercial history of england_, pp. , ; _six centuries of work and wages_, p. ; _economic interpretation of history_, p. ). how could a medieval population conceivably stand for half a century at a given figure, then, having been reduced by one-third, replace the loss in twenty-five years, and thereafter continue to subsist without further increase for two centuries more? on the other hand, there is a natural tendency in every suddenly depleted population to reproduce itself for a time at a quickened rate; and in the england of the latter half of the fourteenth century the conditions would encourage such an effort. the lack of house-room and settlement which normally checked increase (cp. stubbs, § ) was remedied for a large number of persons; and the general feeling would be all in favour of marriage and repopulation (cp. rogers, _six centuries_, p. , where, however, evidence obviously bad is accepted as to multiplied births), though just after the plague there would be a great stimulus to the extension of pasture, since that needed fewer hands than tillage. on the whole, we may reasonably surmise that the population before was, not five millions, but between three and four millions (so green, ch. v, § , p. , who, however, takes the somewhat excessive view that "more than one-half were swept away," and further, p. , that the population "seems to have all but tripled since the conquest"), and that it was prevented regaining that figure in the next century by the economic preference of sheep-farming to tillage. mr. rogers expressly admits (_six centuries_, p. ) that "the price of labour, proclamations and statutes notwithstanding, did not ever fall to its old rates," and repeatedly asserts that "the labourers remained masters of the situation." on his own principles, this goes to prove that their numbers remained lower than of old. he infers a "considerable loss of life" in the famine of - from the immediate rise of agricultural wages (from to per cent), of which on the average per cent was permanent. here there is a presumption that even before the population was greater than afterwards. yet again he states (p. , etc.) that "the _fifteenth_ century and the first quarter of the _sixteenth_ were the golden age of the english labourer"--a proposition which staggers credence. cp. w.j. corbett, in _social england_, ii, - . it is impossible, however, to attain demonstration either on that head or as regards the numbers of the population in the periods under notice. mr. rogers's claims to give decisive evidence show a serious misconception of what constitutes proof; and there is special reason to distrust his conclusion that population was no greater at the end of elizabeth's reign than in that of henry iv. cp. mr. gibbins's _industrial history of england_, pp. - . prof. j.e. symes (in _social england_, iii, , ) decides that a "great increase of the population undoubtedly took place in the reign of henry viii," adopting the estimate that the total at the death of henry vii was about two and a half millions, and at the death of henry viii about four millions. as to the population at the conquest, see sharon turner's _history of the anglo-saxons_, bk. viii, c. , vol. iii, and dunton, as cited, pp. - . it was then probably below two millions; and in the reign of edward ii it may well have been over three millions; for bishop pecock about (cited by dunton, p. _note_) speaks of a long-continued decrease, such as would be caused by the wars in france and at home. but the assertion of tyndale in (_id._ _ib._), that the population was then less by a third than in the time of richard ii, must be dismissed as a delusion set up by the phenomena of agrarian depopulation in certain districts. on this see below, p. . it is important to note, finally, that it was in the age of raised standard of comfort that there occurred the first wide diffusion of critical heresy in england. wiclif's popular lollardry was one phase of a movement that went deeper in thought and further afield in social reform than his, since he himself felt driven to confute certain opponents of belief in the scriptures, and at the same time to repudiate the doctrine that vassals might resist tyrant lords.[ ] had he not done so, he might have had a less peaceful end; but it is clear that many men were in the temper to apply to lay matters the demand for reform which he restricted to matters ecclesiastical.[ ] john ball's rising, however, promptly elicited the much superior strength of the feudal military class; and though in there were still lollards to petition to parliament for the abolition of "unnecessary trades," as well as war and capital punishment and the catholic practices afterwards rejected by protestantism, their utopia was as hopeless as that of the insurgent peasants. even had the invasion of france not come about to bribe and demoralise the nation at large, turning it from domestic criticism to the plunder of a neighbouring state, the nobility of the period were utterly incapable of an intellectual ideal; and any sympathy shown by any section of them for lollardry was the merest opportunism, proceeding on resentment of papal exactions or on a premature hope of plundering the church.[ ] the moment lollardry openly leant towards criticism of nobility as well as clergy, they were ready to give it up to destruction; and the determining cause of the fall of richard ii was that, besides alienating the nobles at once by maintaining a peace policy, and by refusing to let them go to all lengths in oppressing the labourers, he alienated the clergy by sheltering the lollards.[ ] it was the clergy who turned the balance, embracing the cause of henry iv, who in turn systematically supported them,[ ] as did his son after him. henry v, the national hero-king, and his father were the first burners of "protestant" heretics; and it was under henry iv, in , that there was passed the act suppressing the voluntary schools of the lollards.[ ] doubtless it was a push of the lollards that carried the later act of , permitting all men and women to send their sons and daughters "to any school that pleaseth them in the realm;"[ ] but the limitation of school-keeping to the church was an effective means of limiting the education given; and "by the church had recovered from the lollard revolt against her universal authority." mr. lecky, in his theory of the english aristocracy, credits the nobility with an "eminently popular character" from time immemorial, and cites comines as to "the singular humanity of the nobles to the people during the civil wars" (_history of england in the eighteenth century_, small ed. i, , ). the nobility, in the circumstances, had need to treat the people better than those of france normally did (which was what comines was thinking of). their own wealth--what was left of it--came from the people, to whom, further, they looked for followers. and comines in the same passage (bk. v, ch. xx) notes that the english people were "more than ordinarily jealous" of their nobility. of course, the difference between french and english practice dates further back, as above noted. similarly misleading is mr. lecky's statement that "the great charter had been won by the barons, but ... it guaranteed the rights of all freemen." mr. gardiner expressly points out (_student's history_, p. ; cp. his _introduction to english history_, pp. - ) that the charter "was won by a combination between all classes of freemen." london had harboured and aided the barons' force; and the clergy were closely concerned. (cp. mckechnie, _magna carta_, , p. .) the representative assembly summoned by john in stood for the combination of the three classes. green (_short history_, illust. ed. i, , ) uses language which countenances mr. lecky, but shows (pp. - ) the need the barons felt for aid, and the influence of the church and the traders. compare the language of his longer history ( , i, ), and his express admission as to the depression the baronage had undergone a century later (_id._ p. ). dr. stubbs (_const. hist._ i, , ) also indicates that the people co-operated, though he uses expressions (pp. , ) which obscure the facts in mr. lecky's favour. guizot (_essais_, p. ) recognises that the movement was national. buckle, too, made the point clear long ago ( -vol. ed. ii, - ; -vol. ed. pp. - ). but it is noted even in what he called "the wretched work of delolme," and was in buckle's day a generally accepted truth. cp. ch. de rémusat, _l'angleterre du ième siècle_, , i, . it is worth noting in this connection that the magna carta, considered in itself, is a rather deceptive historical document. not only did it need the defeat of john and his german and flemish allies by the french at bouvines to enable even the combined lords and commons and clergy to extort the charter, but the combination was being progressively destroyed by john, by means of his army of french mercenaries, when the barons in despair persuaded the french king to send an invading force, which was able to land owing to the ruin of john's fleet in a storm. thereupon john's french troops deserted him. cp. green, pp. - ; stubbs, ii, , - ; and mckechnie, pp. - , as to the king's energy and the weakness and inner divisions of the national combination. thus it was indirectly to french action that england owed first the magna carta and then the check upon the king's vengeance, as it was to the frenchman, simon de montfort, later, that it owed the initiative of a three-class parliament. and, indeed, but for the king's death, the constitutional cause might well have collapsed in the end. § the wars of the roses, by destroying in large part the nobility, relatively advantaged the middle class,[ ] as well as the king whose reign followed. already under edward iv the powers of parliament were much curtailed, and indeed paralysed;[ ] this, which is charged as a sin upon the monarch, being the natural result of his gain of power on the ruin of the baronage. edward iv only did what edward i and iii would have done if in their situation it had been possible, and what edward ii and richard ii sought to do, but were too weak to compass. the fourth edward's situation and his force of will together made his power. not only was the nobility half exterminated, but the trading and middle classes alike desired a strong ruler who should maintain order, by whatever straining of constitutional forms--the invariable sequel of anarchy--at least up to the point of intolerable taxation.[ ] the actual increase of commerce during the wars[ ] is a good proof of the separateness of class interests, and of the decline of the military ideal. much of it would seem to have been due to the example set by the hansa merchants, who had factories at london,[ ] boston, and lynn, and whose famous league was then powerful enough to force from edward iv a renewal of its english privileges in return for a concession of a share in the baltic trade.[ ] in any case, the new development was on the old lines of energetic self-seeking; and already in the reign of edward iv the cloth manufacture was carried on by capitalists in the modern spirit.[ ] and as the tyrannies of the king were less general and oppressive than the tyrannies of the nobles, the erection of the regal power on the collapse of the old class cohesion gave a new scope for the strife of classes among and for themselves. no national ideal existed (as apart from the readiness to unite in hate of a foreign nation) in monarchic england any more than in old republican greece or modern republican italy. the trade gilds were strictly self-seeking institutions, aiming at keeping down the number of competitors in each trade, without providing in any way for the aspirants. unitary egoism was the universal mainspring. the church sought above all things to be protected against heresy; the town and trade corporations sought protection for their privileges; and the landowners sought to be supported against the labourers, who from the time of henry vi are found revolting against enclosures of public land, and were temporarily reinforced by the disbanded retainers of the barons. every modern force of social disintegration was already nascent. cp. cunningham, _growth of english industry and commerce_, i, - , , ; stubbs, _constitutional history_, §§ - (iii, - ). "in every great town there was, every few years, something of a struggle, something of a crisis ... between trade and craft, or craft and craft, or magistracy and commons" (stubbs, iii, ). prof. ashley (_introd. to econ. hist._ i, ) disputes that there was "any such contest in this country between burghers and artisans" as took place on the continent; and cites another passage from bishop stubbs (§ ; i, ) partly suggesting such a view. but prof. ashley goes on (pp. - ) to show that there _was_ a good deal of struggling even in england between burghers and artisans. cp. his conclusions, pp. - , , as to the process of evolution towards at least formal unity. it is to be noted that the gilds dispensed charity (stubbs, iii, , ). § under henry vii the same conditions subsisted. there was no sufficiently strong body of aristocracy left to rebel effectually against his exactions, though exactions had always been the great cause of discontent; and, all rivals collapsing, there grew up round the new dynasty that hedging superstition which had always counted for much, and which was in england to become a main factor in politics. henry vii wrought assiduously and astutely to build up his power, seeking no less to increase the merchant class than to depress the aristocracy. from both he thus drew his revenue; from the latter by exaction; from the former by customs duties on the trade he carefully encouraged (as richard had done before him), finding in such revenue his surest income.[ ] gradually the monarchic system was made firm. richard iii owed his failure mainly to the sense of the illegality of his position; and the same inversion of the superstition troubled henry vii in turn, as it had done henry iv. it seems to have been his possession of the one train of artillery in the kingdom that mainly preserved his power against rebels.[ ] but with henry viii the dynasty was secure; and from this point onward the monarchic spell can be seen very clearly in english affairs. the instinct of "loyalty," a moral prepossession religiously sanctioned, becomes a social force as truly as the simpler instincts of self-seeking and class spirit. by virtue of it, and of his own force of brute will, henry viii could commit violences of almost every description, his own personality having some of the characteristics most likely to intensify the spell. energy such as his hypnotised or terrorised all but the strongest. even his crimes were not such as revolted average sympathy: the suppression of the church, as in nearly all the "teutonic" countries, was a direct bribe to many of the nobles and landowners,[ ] and for the multitude meant the overthrow of an alien jurisdiction; and his domestic procedure satisfied the popular ethic which demurs to mistresses but respects bigamy, and finds a wife's adultery more criminal than her husband's murder of her. for the rest, he had at the beginning of his reign executed his father's minions, and conciliated the scholars, who made opinion. yet under henry viii we find middle-class england, heavily taxed for war, beginning to stand on its rights as upper-class england had done in earlier times; and in the new england as in the old the weakest class went to the wall. the ever-increasing mass of poor, thrown idle and hungry by the continuous rise of sheep-farms in the place of tillage, were the natural enemies of the governing class as well as of the landowners; and in cruelly repressing them the monarchy strengthened the landowners' allegiance. thus arose the typical personal monarchy, employing middle-class ministers, who served it zealously and with increasing power, thomas cromwell far outgoing wolsey. the passing coalition of nobles and yeomen in the north in the cause of the old religion was followed by the crushing of the remains of the old nobility, now being rapidly replaced by the new, established on the plunder of the church. it is to be noted that in england, as in so many other countries, the virtual subjection of the old nobility to the crown was for a time followed by stirrings of new life in all directions, as if feudalism had everywhere meant a repression of possible energy. the process is seen in spain under ferdinand and isabella;[ ] in france under richelieu and mazarin; in sweden under gustavus vasa; and is thus plainly a product not of doctrinal protestantism, as some suppose, but of the comparative social and political liberty that follows on the restriction of ubiquitous feudal tyranny, so much more searching and pervasive a force than the simpler tyranny of the feudal king. it may be doubted, indeed, whether the tudor suppression of the power of the old aristocracy was not as vital a determination of the nation's course as the overthrow of the catholic church. as against mr. lecky's indiscriminate panegyric of the english nobility, it is instructive to note hallam's judgment on the peerage under henry viii: "they yielded to every mandate of his imperious will ... they are responsible for the illegal trial, for the iniquitous attainder, for the sanguinary statute, for the tyranny which they sanctioned by law, and for that which they permitted to subsist without law. nor was this selfish and pusillanimous subserviency more characteristic of the minions of henry's favour than of the representatives of ancient and honourable houses, the norfolks, the arundels, and the shrewsburys. we trace the noble statesmen of these reigns concurring in all the inconsistencies of the revolutions; supporting all the religions of henry, edward, mary, and elizabeth; adjudging the death of somerset to gratify northumberland, and of northumberland to redeem their participation in his fault; setting up the usurpation of lady jane, and abandoning her on the first doubt of success, constant only in the rapacious acquisition of estates and honours from whatever source, and in adherence to the present power" (_constitutional history_, th ed. i, ). § and now effectively arose the new political force of protestant and bible-worshipping fanaticism, turning the democratic instinct into its channel, and complicating afresh the old issues of classes. it is not to be forgotten that this was a beginning of popular culture, inasmuch as the desire to read the worshipped book must have counted for more than anything else in making reading common.[ ] practically, however, the opposed causes of lollardism and orthodoxy may at the outset be regarded as the democratic and the conservative instincts, taking these channels in the absence of political development and knowledge.[ ] in imperial rome, the spread of christianity was substantially a movement of class cohesion among the illiterate slaves, aliens, and workers, the instinct of attraction taking this form when political grounds of union were lacking. so it was in the england of the period under notice; but whereas in imperial rome the autocracy went far to annul class distinctions, and so helped the slaves' cult to absorb superstitious patricians, especially women, whose wealth maintained the poor of the church as the emperor's doles had maintained the poor of the state, in england the vigour of class distinctions fostered differences of sect. the phenomena of political protestantism in the reformation era in england, as in germany, offer many parallels to those of the french revolution. the revolt of many priests from the routine and restrictions of their office is notable in both epochs. on the other hand, the mass of the well-to-do classes, being unprepared for change by any educative process, were as ready to restore catholic usages as were those of france later; and when the innovating forces, consisting in a little reasoning and much rapine, had run to seed and to corruption under the protectorate and edward vi, the reaction towards the old forms set in powerfully. nothing, however, could carry it to the length of restoring the catholic church's property; and the failure of mary was due not nearly so much to protestant dislike of the ceremonial of rome as to the grip of the new owners on the confiscated lands. in england as in scotland, in germany, in the scandinavian states, and in switzerland, though henry stood for a special initiative, the driving forces of the reformation were mainly those of wealth-seeking; and the financial records of the protectorate show a conspiracy of plunder to which the annals of monarchy could offer no parallel. the protestant aristocracy simply encouraged the new lollardism by way of gaining their personal ends, as they had crushed the old because it menaced their property. "crown lands to the value of five millions of our modern money had been granted away to the friends of somerset and warwick. the royal expenditure had mounted in seventy years to more than four times its previous total" (green, ch. vii, § , and p. ). a system of wholesale corruption and waste had grown up under henry viii, who, after all his confiscations, was fain to seek funds by adulterating his coin. so edward vi, the church and college plunder being gone, had to be granted taxes on manufactures which tended to stop them. "yet i cannot find," says sir roger twysden, "all this made the crown rich. hayward observes edward's debts were £ , --at least said to be so. camden, that queen elizabeth received the crown _afflictissima_ ... _aere alieno quod henricus viii et edwardus vi contraxerant oppressa_.... i cannot but reckon the treasure spent in fifteen years, more than half the kingdom to be sold" (_historical vindication of the church of england_, ed. , pp. , ). so obviously had the treasure gone into the pockets of courtiers and their hangers-on, that the fact gives some excuse for the habitual miserliness of elizabeth. a new channel had thus been made for the forces of union and strife. an instructive part of the process was the movement towards a new sacerdotalism on the side of the new calvinistic clergy--a movement much more clearly visible in scotland than in england. whether or not it be true that "it was by no means the intention of knox and his fellow-labourers to erect a new hierarchy upon the ruins of the old,"[ ] it is clear that his immediate successors counted on wielding a power strictly analogous to that of the papacy. andrew melville, in haughty colloquy with king james and his councillors, threw down his hebrew bible on the table as his authority for his demands. since all alike professed to accept it, the next step in the argument plainly was that it lay with the presbyter to interpret the sacred book;[ ] and melville, who took the king by the sleeve and called him "god's silly [= weak] vassal," was quite ready to play gregory to james's henry had he been able. the effective check lay in the new church's lack of revenue, the lands of the old church having of course been retained by the nobles, who carried through the reformation simply in order to get them. but even in its poverty, with an indifferent nobility[ ] in possession of the feudal power, the scottish clergy were nearly as tyrannous socially as their teacher calvin had been at geneva; and for nearly two hundred years scottish life was no freer and much more joyless, under the new presbyter, than under the old priest, though the democratic machinery of the kirk obviated any need or opportunity for fiscal exaction. § as it is with the reformation period that the play of sheer opinion begins to appear distinctly in english politics, so it is in this period that the phenomena of reactions first begin to be in a manner traceable as distinct from military fluctuations. all faction, of course, is a form of the play of opinion; but after the fading away of feudalism the opinion is more easily to be contemplated as a force in itself, alongside of the simpler instincts; and the ebbing and flowing of causes suggests a certain consequence of action and reaction in human affairs. the gain-getting protestant movement under the protectorate was followed by the catholic reaction under mary; which again bred reaction by ferocity. catholics grew cold in their allegiance when romanism yielded such bloody fruits. protestantism, besides, flourished on the continual poverty of the lower orders, and on the abeyance of international strife--conditions which necessarily set up new movements of combination and repulsion; and when elizabeth succeeded to the throne, she served to represent, however incongruously, the religious leanings of the democracy, as well as to unite them in the name of patriotism against rome and spain. she, again, profited by the monarchic superstition, while she was menaced by its inversion; and it is to be observed that as a woman she gained immunity with her subjects for flaws of character which in a man would have been odious and despicable, where her rival, mary of scotland, suffered deposition for actions of a kind which in a man would have been almost spontaneously forgiven. mary's complicity in the assassination of a base and unfaithful husband was an unpardonable crime from the reigning ethical point of view, which was purely masculine; and the same ethic held in amused toleration the constant bad faith and personal absurdity of elizabeth,[ ] which rather flattered than endangered the pride of sex. thus could monarchic politics be swayed by the prevailing psychology of a period, as well as by its class preponderances and interests. the personality of the monarch always counted for much in the determination of his power. where elizabeth gained, however, james lost. her power was consolidated by the triumph over the armada, which in the old fashion fused religious strifes in a common warlike exultation, and definitely made england protestant by setting her in deadly enmity towards the great catholic power;[ ] just as the state of aggressive hostility towards france under edward i and edward iii drew englishmen of all classes into the habit of speaking english and discarding the hitherto common use of french. at the same time the queen's collisions with parliament and people were always the less dangerous because she was a woman, and so could yield without indignity where a man would have been humiliated and discredited--an advantage overlooked by the historians who praise her sagacity. such as it was, it was in large part the sagacity of unscrupulousness; and her success is much more the measure of popular infatuation than of her wisdom. all the while, she had wiser councillors than almost any english monarch before or since; and much of her sagacity was theirs, perhaps even down to some of the unscrupulousness; though on the other hand her fickleness often put them in an evil aspect. burghley might say what he would, in the loyalist manner, about her inspired judgment; but he knew that she imposed leicester on the dutch expedition against his advice, then starved her troops, then upset everything because of the easily predictable disobedience of leicester in accepting the title of governor-general from the dutch.[ ] to say in the face of such methods, as does mr. green, that while she had little or no political wisdom, "her political tact was unerring," is to frame a spurious paradox. the more than countervailing admission that "in the profusion and recklessness of her lies elizabeth stood without a peer in christendom" is perhaps overcharged: she could not lie more habitually and systematically than did philip; but in both alike the constant resort to falsehoods for which their antagonists were more or less prepared, is a proof of want of political tact, no less than of want of wisdom.[ ] that she should have been idolised as she was is one of the best proofs of the power of the monarchic feeling; for there has rarely been a less trustworthy woman on a throne. in any circle of sound human beings she would have been disliked and distrusted; yet english tradition celebrates her as admirably english, in the act of blackening by comparison foreign rulers who were at least not conspicuously falser,[ ] meaner,[ ] or more egotistic. what is true is that many of the forces with and against which she intrigued were either unscrupulous or irrational, and that her home tyrannies were no worse than those which would have been committed by puritans or catholics or churchmen had these been free to go at each other's throats as religion bade. her trickeries on the whole kept things in equilibrium. but conscienceless trickeries they were, and, as such, singular grounds for historical enthusiasm. and it cannot have been any concern for her celibacy, or subtle intuition of its effects on her character, that endeared her to her subjects; for her often alleged virginity, despite the gross scandals to the contrary, was an element in the hallucination concerning her. "loyalty" haloed her personality. when, however, she was succeeded by a man certainly not worse or more ungenerous, the spell was for the most part broken. james was a scotchman--a member, albeit a king, of a hostile nation long evilly spoken of; a prince without personal dignity; a pedant without gravity; and the indulgence paid to falsehood and folly in the capriciously headstrong elizabeth ceased to be accorded to the unmanly and unregal ways of her not unconscientious successor, whose plans for pacifying europe were much more creditable to him than were her diplomacies to her. but the very preservation of peace served to undo the king's prestige, inasmuch as it furthered the growth of sects and the spirit of criticism. and there can be no doubt that the psychological shrinkage of the monarchy in public esteem in the person of james prepared the way for the resistance to it in the reign of his son. as against the foregoing views of henry's and elizabeth's characters, note should be taken of the doctrine of dr. gardiner (_history_, as cited, i, ) that "henry viii must be judged by" [_i.e._ in view of the merits of] "the great men who supported his daughter's throne, and who defended the land which he set free when 'he broke the bonds of rome.' elizabeth must be judged by the pyms and cromwells, who ... owed their strength to the vigour with which she _headed_ the resistance of england against spanish aggression. she had cleared the way for liberty, though she understood it not." it seems necessary to enter a demurrer to such moral philosophy, of which there is too much in recent english historiography. considering that the action of henry towards all who thwarted him was one of brutal terrorism, and that, save as regards his bribes, he cowed alike his peers and his people, the courage shown by their descendants might as rationally be credited to philip of spain as to him. and to credit elizabeth personally with the defeat of the armada, and consequently with the strength of the later pyms and cromwells, is not only to reiterate the same paralogism but to negate common sense as regards the facts of the armada episode, in which the nation did one half of the work, and the storm the other. dr. gardiner, like mr. froude, who preaches a similar doctrine, overlooks the consequence that catholicism on these principles must be credited with the production of henry and elizabeth, and therefore with their alleged services. as against such an unmeaning theory we may note another verdict of dr. gardiner's (p. ): "elizabeth has a thousand titles to our gratitude, but it should never be forgotten that she left, as a legacy to her successor, an ecclesiastical system which, unless its downward course were arrested by consummate wisdom, threatened to divide the nation into two hostile camps, and to leave england, even after necessity had compelled the rivals to accept conditions of peace, a prey to theological rancour and sectarian hatred." how then is the account to be balanced? dr. cunningham, we may note, sums up as to the preceding reigns that "the scandalous confiscations of henry viii and edward vi were fatal to rural economy and disastrous to mercantile dealings. the disintegration of society became complete; ... with some exceptions in regard to shipping and possibly in regard to the repair of the towns, there is no improvement, no reconstruction which can be traced to the reign of the tudor kings" (_english industry_, i, ). cp. prof. rogers's _industrial and commercial history_, p. . § while such changes were being wrought at one end of the political organism, others no less momentous, and partly causative of those, had taken place at the other. by economic writers the period of the reformation in england is now not uncommonly marked as that of a great alteration for the worse in the lot of the mass of the peasantry.[ ] the connection between the overthrow of the catholic church and the agrarian trouble, however, is not of the primary character that is thus supposed: it might be rather called accidental than causal. suppression of the monasteries could at most only throw into prominence the poverty which the monasteries relieved, but which monasteries always tend to develop.[ ] wholesale eviction of husbandmen to make way for sheep-farms had taken place, the church helping, before henry viii began to meddle with the church; and vagabondage and beggary were common in consequence.[ ] the distress was there to begin with, and was increasing, from what period onward it were hard to say. the early fifteenth-century riots against "enclosures," above mentioned, arose out of the policy of systematically extending pasture, and point to a distress set up by the gradual growth of gain-seeking methods among landowners as against the common people,[ ] whose normal tendency to multiply was a constant force making for poverty, though it was met half-way by the aggression of landlords who found it more profitable to raise and export wool than to farm.[ ] a fresh source of dislocation was the enforcement of laws against the keeping of bands of retainers, a process to which henry vii specially devoted himself,[ ] thus securing his throne on the one hand while intensifying the evil of depopulation and decreasing tillage, for which on the other hand he tried remedial measures,[ ] of the customary description. laws were passed forbidding the peasantry to seek industrial employment in the cities--this course being taken as well in the interests of the trades as with the hope of restoring agriculture. one outcome of the circumstances was that sheep-farming, like the cloth manufacture, began to be carried on by capitalists;[ ] the moneyed classes beginning to reach out to the country, while the gentry began to draw towards the towns.[ ] thus we find in existence long before the reformation all the economic troubles which some writers attribute to the methods of the reformation; though the protestant nobles who scrambled for the plunder of the church in the reigns of henry and of edward vi seem to have done more sheep-farming and depopulating than any others, thereby disposing the people the more to welcome mary.[ ] even prof. thorold rogers, who (overlooking the act henry vii) seems to hold that the enclosures in the fifteenth century were not made at the expense of tillage, and that the earliest complaints are in the sixteenth century (_history of agriculture and prices_, iv, , note, : cp. cunningham, _english industry_, i, _note_), still shows that there were heavy complaints as early as ( hen. viii, cc. , ) of a general decay of towns and growth of pastures--long before henry had meddled with the church. bishop stubbs is explicit on the subject as regards the period of york and lancaster:--"the price of wool enhanced the value of pasturage; the increased value of pasturage withdrew field after field from tillage; the decline of tillage, the depression of the markets, and the monopoly of the wool trade by the staple towns, reduced those country towns which had not encouraged manufacture to such poverty that they were unable to pay their contingent to the revenue, and the regular sum of tenths and fifteenths was reduced by more than a fifth in consequence. the same causes which in the sixteenth century made the enclosure of the commons a most important popular grievance, had begun to set class against class as early as the fourteenth century, although the thinning of the population by the plague acted to some extent as a corrective" (_constitutional history_, iii, ; cp. green, ch. v, § , p. ; ch. vi, § , p. ). the troubles, again, were fluctuating, the movement of depopulation and sheep-farming being followed in due course by a revival of tillage, while contrary movements might be seen in different parts of the country, according as commercial advantage lay for the moment. in one district it might pay best to rear sheep; in another, by reason of nearness to town markets, it might pay best to grow corn; but the competition of corn imported from the baltic in return for english exports would be a generally disturbing force. the very improvement of agricultural skill, too, in which holland led the way,[ ] would tend to lessen employment in the rural districts. peace and progress, in the absence of science, always thus provide new sources of distress, multiplying heads and hands without multiplying the employment which secures for the multitude a share in the fruits, but always aggrandising those who have contrived to become possessed of the prime monopolies. what went on was a perpetual transference and displacement of well-being, one class rising on another's distress; and after the apparently steady decay of the towns under henry viii,[ ] the new lead given to industry in the reign of elizabeth, by the influx of protestant refugees from the netherlands, went to build up an urban middle class which for the time had no political motives to discontent. sir thomas more, in the very passage of the _utopia_ in which he speaks of the wholesale eviction of husbandmen, tells how "handicraft men, yea, and almost the ploughmen of the country, with all other sorts of people, use much strange and proud new fangleness in their apparel, and too much prodigal riot and sumptuous fare at their table" (bk. i, robinson's trans.). new wealth and new poverty co-existed. "cheapness and dearness, plenty and scarcity, of corn and other food, depopulation and rapidly increasing numbers, really co-existed in the kingdom. there were places from which the husbandman and labourer disappeared, and the beasts of the field grazed where their cottages had stood; and there were places where men were multiplying to the dismay of statesmen." cliffe leslie, essay on _the distribution and value of the precious metals_, vol. cited, p. . the whole of this essay is well worth study. cp. prof. ashley, _introduction to economic history_, ii, - . § hence there was no continuous pressure of agrarian or industrial politics, and the stress of the instinct of strife went in other directions. the modern reader, seeking for the class politics of the later tudor period, finds them as it were covered up, save for such an episode as the revolt of , by the record of foreign policy and ecclesiastical strifes, and is apt to condemn the historian for leaving matters so. but in reality class politics was for the most part superseded by sect politics. the new pseudo-culture of bibliolatry, virtually a sophisticated barbarism, had made new paths for feeling; and these being the more durable, the miseries of the evicted rural populations, which forced a poor law on the administration, never set up anything approaching to a persistent spirit of insurrection. by the suppression of the old feudal nobility, as already noted, life in general had been made freer; and the monarch for the time being was become a relatively beneficent and worshipful power in the eyes of the mass of the people, while the landowners were grown weak for harm. the destructive passions were running in other channels, and religious hate swallowed up class hate. for the rest, the new aristocracy was thoroughly established; and in the life and work of shakespeare himself we see the complete acceptance of the readjusted class relation, though we can also see in his pages the possibilities of a new upper class of rich merchants. in his impersonal way he flashes the light of lear's tardy sympathy on the forlorn world of the homeless poor; and in many a phrase he condenses an intense criticism of the injustices of class rule; but even if, as seems certain, he did not write the jack cade scenes in _henry vi_, he has little of the purposive democrat in him: rather--though here it is hard indeed to get behind the great humanist's mask--some touch of the fastidious contempt of the noble, himself fickle enough, for the changing voice of the ignorant populace. on one point of current psychology, however, as on the great issue of religion, shakespeare's very silence is more significant than speech. after the passionate outburst put in the mouth of the dying john of gaunt, and the normal patriotism of _henry v_, utterances of his early manhood, proceeding upon those of the older plays which he re-wrote, we find in his dramas a notable aloofness from current public passion. this would of course be encouraged by the regulations for the stage; but no regulation need have hindered him from pandering habitually to popular self-righteousness in the matter of national animosities. in the multitude were all on the side of the fire-eating essex and against the prudent burghley in the matter of aggressive war upon spain; hope of plunder and conquest playing as large a part in their outcry as any better sentiment. the production of _henry v_ in , with its laudatory allusion to essex's doings in ireland, whither he had been accompanied by shakespeare's patron southampton, would suggest, if the passage were of his penning,[ ] that the dramatist was one of essex's partisans. but whichever way he then leaned, no man can gather from his later plays any encouragement to natural passion of any species. it is not merely that he avoids politics after having been compromised by contact with them:[ ] it is that he rises to a higher plane of thought and feeling.[ ] he, if any man, could see the fatuity with which englishmen denounced cruelty in spaniards while matching spanish cruelty in ireland, and cursed the inquisition while mishandling jesuit priests in the inquisition's own temper. the story of english cruelty in ireland in elizabeth's and james's day is one of the most sickening in the history of the epoch.[ ] but no sense of guilt ever checked the blatant self-sufficiency with which the general run of englishmen of the time inveighed against the misdeeds of the spaniards: no twinge of self-criticism ever modified their righteous thanksgiving over the defeat of the armada, which was manned partly to avenge their own massacre and torture of catholic priests. their drakes and hawkinses, playing the pirate and the slave-stealer, and holding with no qualms the conviction that they were doing god service, made current the cant of puritanism in the pre-puritan generation. godly ruffianism could not later go further than it did in "the elizabethan dawn"; for milton's swelling phrase of "god and his englishmen" did not outgo the self-satisfaction of the previous age, any more than of the later period of "teutonic" self-glorification. to shakespeare alone seems to have been possible the simple reflection that god's spaniards, equating with god's englishmen, left zero to the philosopher. it seems clear that the mass of the people, and such leading men as essex and raleigh, desired a continuance of the state of war with spain because of the opportunities it gave for piratical plunder. the queen, who had shared in the loot of a good many such expeditions, might have acquiesced but for burghley's dissuasion. it was an early sign of predilection to the path of imperialism, on which cromwell later put one foot, on which chatham carried the nation far, and which it has in later days at times seemed bent on pursuing. in elizabeth's day enterprises of plunder, as one writer has pointed out, "became the usual adventure of the times, by which the rich expected to increase their wealth and the prodigal to repair their fortunes"; and the general imagination was fired with similar hopes, till "the people were in danger of acquiring the habits and the calculations of pirates." (j. m'diarmid, _lives of british statesmen_, , i, , ; cp. furnivall and simpson in the latter's _school of shakespeare_, , i, pp. x, - ; and see rogers, _industrial and commercial history_, p. , as to the contemporary lack of commercial enterprise.) cecil, in his opposition to the war policy of essex, remarkably anticipates the view of rational historical science (see camden's _annales_, ed. , iii, - , as to the conflict.) burghley had equally been the resisting force to the popular desire for an attack on france after the massacre of st. bartholomew. his remarkable hostility to militarism is set forth in his _advice_ to his son, on the head of the training to be given to his children: "neither, by my consent, shalt thou train them up in wars; for he that sets up his rest to live by that profession can hardly be an honest man or a good christian." yet he planned well enough against the armada. cp. creighton, _queen elizabeth_, pp. , . § the culture history of the period from chaucer to shakespeare is perhaps clearer than the political. it is in the first great lull of the wars of the roses, under edward iv, that we find printing established in england. original literature had virtually died out, as in northern europe, in the long stress of physical strife; but the love of reading took a new growth when peace intervened, and a printer found a public for reproductions of the literatures of the past. this culture proceeded under henry vii, till at the advent of henry viii there was a mature movement of scholarship, a product of classical study and reflection, yielding for england the singular and memorable fruit of more's _utopia_. that was truly a "pallas of the brain," not "wild" as in the phrase of the conservative poet, but well-nigh pure of the blind passion of normal life,[ ] and therefore no more than a radiant vision for an age in which blind passion was still plenipotent. more's mind had ripened as it were independently of his temperament; and his life is the tragedy of an intelligence, more haunting and more profoundly instructive than any _hamlet_. the serene spirit that dreamed and planned the _utopia_ grew to be capable of a bitterness of dogmatic fanaticism on a level with the normal passions of the time.[ ] it is matter for surprise that he has not ere now been studied or cited as an apparition of the "celtic" mind on the arena of brutal english life,[ ] a prematurely penetrating intelligence thrust back upon and enveloped by a temperament kept passionate by the shocks of an animal environment. from his eyes, limned by the great holbein, there looks out the sadness of flawed and frustrate wisdom; even as blood and passion and fleshly madness are written in the beastlike face of the king, whose little son, ruddy and hardy in his babyhood, pales and pines away through portrait after portrait to puberty and death, the victim of some secret malady. neither on the psychological line of more nor on that of henry could the national culture proceed. it went on naïvely, being for long neither puritan nor anti-puritan, though the loquacious and commonplace utterance of preachers already abounded before the accession of elizabeth. the protestantism of the protectorate was too much a matter of mere plunder to admit of a great religious literature; and nothing is more remarkable in the great imaginative efflorescence under elizabeth than its un-puritan secularity. it drew, indeed, from a soil too rich to be yet overrun by fanaticism. the multiplying printing-presses showered forth a hundred translations; the new grammar-schools bore their fruit; the nation grew by domestic peace, even while tillers of the soil were being made beggars; the magic of discovery and travel thrilled men to new exercises of mind and speech; the swarming life of the capital raised the theatre to fecund energy in a generation; and transformed feudalism survived in the guise rather of a guardian to art and letters than of organised class oppression. a new economic factor, conditioned by a new resource, was at work. in more's day there was no such thing as a professional writer, and there were few printed books. the great controversy between protestants and catholics gave a new and powerful stimulus to printing, and printing in turn invited literary effort, books finding multiplying purchasers. then came the growth of the new theatre, an apparent means of livelihood to a crowd of poet-dramatists. no such sudden outcrop of manifold literature had ever before occurred in human history; the mental distance between elyot and bacon, between the old interludes and shakespeare, is as great as that between hesiod and euripides. but the secret of continuous progress had not yet been found: it lies, if anywhere, with the science of the future: and the development after the reign of elizabeth necessarily began to take new lines. the later profusion of the poetic drama was the profusion of decay. artistic abundance must mean artistic change or deterioration; but in the drama there was no recasting of the artistic formulas, no refining of the artistic sense, because there was no progress in general culture sufficient to force or educe it. rather the extraordinary eloquence of the earlier and greater dramatists, and in particular of the greatest, bred a cultus of conventional rhetoric and declamation in which the power and passion of the masters were lost. powerful men could not go on attending to an infinity of such blank-verse dramas; powerful men could not go on producing dramas, because the mind of the time made no progress complementary to the great flowering of the elizabethan peace. that was essentially a late rebirth of the classic or bookish culture of the renaissance. new germinal ideas, apart from those of religion, were yet to come. already the spell of bibliolatry was conquering the average intelligence, unprepared to digest hebraism as the _élite_ of the previous generation had digested classicism; and the protestant principle led the protestant peoples in the mass into the very attitude needed for a social hypnotism such as that of jewry, the fatal exemplar. bibliolatry is the culture of the ignorant; church government, the politics of the unenfranchised and the impractical; their conditions exclude them from a truer culture and more vital political interests. already in henry's time the newly-translated scriptures were, to his wrath, "disputed, rhymed, sung, and jangled in every tavern and alehouse"; the very stress of his own personal rule being a main part of the cause. under the protectorate of somerset the gross rapacity of the protestant nobles identified the new church with upper-class selfishness as completely as the old had ever been; and the norfolk revolt of avowedly aimed at the overthrow of the gentry. when that was stamped out in massacre, the spirit of popular independence was broken, save in so far as it could play in the new channel of personal religion and ecclesiastical polemic, always being dug by the disputation of the new clergy. and when in the reign of mary crowds of protestant refugees fled to geneva, of which the polity had already been introduced to the students of oxford by peter martyr, there was set up a fresh ferment of presbyterian theory among the educated class which the ecclesiastical conditions under elizabeth could not but foster. the new dramatic literature and the new national life of anti-spanish adventure kept it all substantially in the background for another generation; but the lack of progressive culture and the restriction of expansive enterprise at length gave the forces of pietism the predominance. thus, in ways in which the historians of our literature and politics have but imperfectly traced, the balance of the nation's intellectual activity shifted towards the ground of religion and the ecclesiastical life. and only this change of mental drift can account for the new energy of resistance incurred by charles when he took up with greater obstinacy the lines of policy of his father, meddling with church practice and normal government on the same autocratic principles. religion and worship were not the sole grounds of quarrel, but they commanded all the other grounds. the decadence of english poetic drama after the death of shakespeare is one of the themes which elicit illustrations of the snares of empirical sociology. an able and original literary critic, mr. g.c. macaulay, at the close of a very competent study on francis beaumont, has formulated a theory of that decadence which calls for revision. he pronounces that by "the impulse which had moved the older generation was ... almost exhausted. this, as we have already seen, came in the form of an enthusiastic patriotism, ennobling human life, so far at least as englishmen were concerned in it, and producing a united and national interest in the representation of its problems and destiny" (_francis beaumont_, , p. ). error here emerges at once. it was not national patriotism that evoked either the pre-shakespearean or the shakespearean drama. the rude foundations had been laid by many "interludes," by such homespun comedy as _ralph roister doister_, and by the stilted tragedy of _ferrex and porrex_. the chronicle-plays of greene and peele and marlowe, worked over by shakespeare, are far from being the best of the pre-shakespearean drama. just after the armada, marlowe revealed his powers, not in patriotic plays, but in _tamburlaine_, followed by _the jew of malta_, and _faustus_. the best of the pre-shakespearean plays on english history was marlowe's _edward ii_, in which there was and could be no appeal to patriotic fervour. the best episode in _edward iii_ stands out entirely from the "patriotic" part, which is nearly worthless. the superior episode is probably the work of greene, whose best complete play, _james iv_, turns on fictitious scottish history, and is only momentarily touched by patriotic feeling. peele's _edward i_ is inferior as a whole to his _david and bethsabe_. kyd made his successes, literary or theatrical, with _the spanish tragedy_, _arden of feversham_, and the original _hamlet_. shakespeare's best work, from the start, is done not in the chronicle-plays but in his comedies, in his falstaff scenes, and in his tragedies, from _romeo and juliet_ onwards. these had nothing to do with patriotism, enthusiastic or otherwise. and _henry v_, which had, is not a great play. the chief florescence of elizabethan drama is to be understood in the light of economic causation; and the decline is to be understood similarly. the rise of the london theatres, a process of expansion following on the maintenance of separate companies of players by noblemen and by the court, meant a means of livelihood for actors and playwrights, and of profit for _entrepreneurs_. greene and peele, and kyd and marlowe, and jonson and chapman, wrote not to evoke or respond to national patriotism, but to provide plays that would sell and "draw." the original genius of marlowe stimulated the others, who nearly all imitated him. _orlando furioso_, _selimus_, _alphonsus king of arragon_, _david and bethsabe_, and even _the battle of alcazar_, have nothing to do with patriotism; and the touches of that in _friar bacon and friar bungay_ are subsidiary to the story. there is no extant play on the armada. it is pure supererogation, then, to argue that "everything had been done by the first stuart king to cool down patriotism, and to diminish the self-respect and pride of englishmen; while at the same time, by his insolent hitherto unheard-of (?) divine-right pretensions, he alarmed them for their political liberties, and by his ecclesiastical policy he exasperated theological controversy; thus contriving, both in politics and in religion, to destroy unity and foster party spirit to an extent which had been unknown for nearly half-a-century. the condition of things," adds mr. macaulay, "was unfavourable to everything national, and above all things to the national drama, which became rather the amusement of the idle than the embodiment of a popular enthusiasm." need it be pointed out that all of shakespeare's greatest work, after _hamlet_, which was anything but "national," was produced after the accession of james? what had popular enthusiasm to do with _othello_, _macbeth_, _lear_, _coriolanus_, _antony and cleopatra_, _the tempest_, and _the winter's tale_? the really explanatory factors are ( ) the economic, ( ) the trend of popular culture. shakespeare alone of the dramatists of his day made anything like a good income; and he did so in virtue of being an actor and a prudent partner in the proprietorship of his theatre. kyd, greene, and peele all died in misery; and marlowe must have lived his short life from hand to mouth. jonson subsisted chiefly by his masques and by the gifts of patrons, and by his own avowal was always poor. chapman can have fared no better. the concurrence of the abnormal genius of shakespeare with his gift of commercial management is one of the rarest things in literary history: take that away, and the problem of the "decadence" is seen to be merely part of the statement of the "rise." when men of superior power, taught by the past, ceased to defy poverty by writing for the theatre--and even the vogue of fletcher and massinger represented no solid monetary success--plays could less than ever appeal to the "serious" and sectarian sections of the london public. popular culture ran on the sterile lines of pietism, puritanism, and the strifes engendered between these and sacerdotalism. all this had begun long before james, though he may have promoted the evolution. literary art perforce turned to other forms. a successful national war could no more have regenerated the drama than the wars of henry v could generate it. there was plenty of "national enthusiasm" later, in the periods of marlborough and chatham: there was no great drama; and the new fiction had as little to do with patriotism as had shakespeare's comedies and tragedies. defoe's _robinson crusoe_ was not inspired by his politics. it is well to recognise, finally, that in the nature of things æsthetic, every artistic convention must in time be "played out," the law of variation involving deviations or recoils. blank-verse drama is a specially limited convention, which only great genius can vitalise. even in this connection, however, there is danger in _a priori_ theorising. mr. macaulay quotes from schlegel the generalisation that "in the commencement of a degeneracy in the dramatic art, the spectators first lose the capability of judging of a play as a whole"; hence "the harmony of the composition, and the due proportion between all the various parts is apt to be neglected, and the flagging interest is stimulated by scenes of horror or strange and startling incidents." the implication is that the jacobean drama degenerated in this way. again the facts are opposed to the thesis. if we are to believe shakespeare and jonson and beaumont, the audiences never appreciated plays as wholes. scenes of "comic relief," utterly alien to the action, come in as early as _locrine_. scenes of physical and moral horror, again, abound in the pre-shakespearean drama: in _the spanish tragedy_ and _arden of feversham_, in _david and bethsabe_, in _titus andronicus_ (a pre-shakespearean atrocity), in _selimus_ and _tancred and gismunda_, and _alphonsus emperor of germany_ (a greene-peele play wrongly ascribed to chapman), they are multiplied _ad nauseam_. rapes, assassinations, incest, tearing-out of eyes and cutting-off of hands, the kissing of a husband's excised heart by his wife, the unwitting eating of her children's flesh by a mother, the dashing out of a child's brains by its grandfather--such are among the flowers of the elizabethan time. on schlegel's theory, there was degeneration before there was success. webster's "horrors" do not seem to have won him great vogue; and ford's neurotic products had no great popularity. doubtless weak performers tend to resort to violent devices; but they did so before shakespeare; and shakespeare did not stick at trifles in _lear_ and _othello_. decadence in art-forms, in short, is to be studied like other forms of decadence, in the light of the totality of conditions; and is not to be explained in terms of itself. mr. macaulay's thesis as a whole might be rebutted by simply citing the fact that the florescence of spanish drama at the hands of lope de vega and calderon occurred in a period of political decline, when "patriotic enthusiasm" had nothing to live upon. vega began play-writing just after the defeat of the armada; and his _dragontea_, written in exultation over the death of drake, is not a memorable performance. velasquez, like calderon, flourished under philip iv, in a time of national depression and defeat. footnotes: [footnote : "the distinctive characteristics of the saxon race--talents for agriculture, navigation, and commerce" (t. colley grattan, _the netherlands_, , p. ).] [footnote : a.l. smith, in _social england_, i, , . when alfred built ships he had to get "frisian pirates" to man them. it was clearly the new agricultural facilities of england that turned the original pirates into thorough landsmen. cp. dr. cunningham, _growth of english industry and commerce_, rd ed. , app. e. pp. , .] [footnote : h. hall, in _social england_, i, . cp. ii, ; prof. ashley, _introduction to english economic history_, - , i, ; hallam, _middle ages_, th ed. iii, ; schanz, _englische handelspolitik_, , i, . when the jews were expelled by edward i, lombards were installed in their place. later, as we shall see, the hansards seem to have tutored natives up to the point of undertaking their own commerce.] [footnote : cp. a.l. smith, as cited, p. .] [footnote : seebohm, _the english village community_, rd ed. , pref. p. ix. cp. prof. ashley, _introduction to english economic history_, i, - .] [footnote : prof. maitland, the most circumspect opponent of the "serf" view, did not consider this when he asked (_domesday book and beyond_, ed. , p. ) how either the saxon victors could in the mass have sunk to serfdom or the conquered britons, whose language had disappeared, could be so numerous as to constitute the mass of the population.] [footnote : that the serf or villein was not necessarily an abject slave is noted by kemble (_saxons in england_, as cited, i, ) and stubbs (_const. hist._ th ed. i, ).] [footnote : maitland, _domesday book_, pp. , .] [footnote : this seems a more probable etymology than the derivation by spelling from _knabe_.] [footnote : cp. the rev. g. hill, _some consequences of the norman conquest_, , pp. - .] [footnote : green, _history_ (the longer), , i, .] [footnote : thierry, _histoire de la conquête de l'angleterre_, édit. e, , i, - ; duruy, _hist. de france_, ed. , i, .] [footnote : maitland, _domesday book and beyond_, , pp. - .] [footnote : cp. buckle, -vol. ed. ii, , -vol. ed. p. ; stubbs, _const. hist._ i, ; sharon turner, _history of england during the middle ages_, nd ed. i, . "the princes who lived upon the worst terms with their barons seem accordingly to have been the most liberal in grants ... to their burghs." adam smith, _wealth of nations_, bk. iii, ch. iii.] [footnote : the conqueror himself not only took pains to protect and attach native freemen who accepted his rule, but sought to retain their laws and usages. cp. stubbs, i, , , . the statement that he aimed specially at the manumission of serfs (sharon turner, as last cited, i, , ) proceeds on a fabricated charter. that, however, is not later than henry i.] [footnote : cp. milman, _latin christianity_, bk. xiv, ch. i.] [footnote : _e.g._ the rivalries of mendicant friars and secular priests and monks, and of the different orders of monks and friars with each other. cp. milman, _latin christianity_, th ed. ix, , , , ; sharon turner, _history of england during the middle ages_, iii, - , , etc. the strifes between popes and prelates are innumerable, in all countries.] [footnote : as to this see dr. cunningham, _growth of english industry and commerce_, rd ed. , appendix e. cp. green, _short history_, ch. ii, § , p. .] [footnote : as to which see earle, _philology of the english tongue_, rd ed. pp. - .] [footnote : this is explicitly admitted by buckle ( -vol. ed. ii, ; -vol. ed. p. ), though he does not thereafter speak consistently on the subject.] [footnote : cp. buckle, as last cited; green. _history_ (the larger), , i. .] [footnote : stubbs, iii, .] [footnote : karl hegel notes (_städte und gilden der germanischen völker im mittelalter_, pp. - ) that the anglo-saxon gilds seem to have had no connection with towns or communes, and that their societies might serve as a type for any class-association.] [footnote : cp. green, _short history_, ch. iv, § , pp. , ; ch. vi, § , p. ; prof. ashley, _introd. to english economic history_, - , i, , , , , ; ii, , , , . prof. ashley notes a great change for the better in the fifteenth century (work cited, ii, ), and a further advance in the sixteenth (ii, ).] [footnote : cp. j.h. round, _the commune of london_, , p. .] [footnote : "after crécy and calais, edward felt himself strong enough to disregard the commons.... his power was for the most part great or small, as his foreign policy was successful or disastrous" (pearson, _english history in the fourteenth century_, pp. , ). see also stubbs, iii, ; and compare the case of henry v.] [footnote : cp. prof. ashley, i, .] [footnote : as to flemish influence on early english progress, see prof. thorold rogers, _industrial and commercial history of england_, , pp. , , - .] [footnote : hallam. _middle ages_, iii. , .] [footnote : gardiner, _student's history of england_, p. ; gneist, as cited above, p. . cp. gardiner's _introduction to the study of english history_, p. : "even the house of commons, which was pushing its way to a share of power, was comparatively an aristocratic body. the labouring population in town and country had no share in its exaltation. even the citizens, the merchants and tradesmen of the towns, looked down upon those beneath them without trust or affection." magna carta itself was a protection only for "freemen."] [footnote : cp. gibbins. _industrial history of england_, pp. , ; pearson, _history of england during the early and middle ages_, ii, .] [footnote : see pearson's _english history in the fourteenth century_, pp. , , , etc.; cp. p. . in the thirteenth century frederick ii had enfranchised all the serfs on his own domains (milman, _latin christianity_, vi, ); and a similar policy had become general in the italian cities. louis vi and louis vii of france had even enfranchised many of their serfs in the twelfth century, and louis x carried out the policy in . cp. duruy, _hist. de france_, i, , _note_. england in these matters was not forward, but backward.] [footnote : froissart, liv. ii, ch. , éd. buchon, . the southern counties, however, were perhaps then as now less democratic, less "free," than the northern.] [footnote : compare mackintosh's rhetoric as to magna carta constituting "the immortal claim of england on the esteem of mankind" (_history of england_, , i, ), and as to simon de montfort, whom he credits with inventing the idea of representation in parliament for cities (p. ).] [footnote : duruy, _hist. de france_, i, .] [footnote : cp. guizot, _essais sur l'histoire de france_, e édit. p. .] [footnote : this had, however, been employed as early as .] [footnote : cp. pearson, as last cited, p. .] [footnote : as to what traffic actually took place in the dark ages, cp. heyd, _histoire du commerce de levant_, fr. tr. , i, - .] [footnote : cox, _the crusades_, p. .] [footnote : pignotti, _history of tuscany_, eng. trans. , iii, - .] [footnote : _hist. de la civ. en france_, ed. e, iii, e leçon.] [footnote : down even to the points of chastity and "training."] [footnote : this is now pretty generally recognised. among recent writers compare green, _short history_, ch. iv, § ; pearson, as last cited, p. ; gardiner, _student's history of england_, p. ; and _introduction to the study of english history_, p. . see also buckle, -vol. ed. ii, ; -vol. ed. p. . the sentimental view is still extravagantly expressed by ducoudray, _histoire sommaire de la civilisation_, .] [footnote : pignotti, as cited, iii, ; g. villani, _cronica_, xii, - .] [footnote : cp. thierry, _histoire de la conquête_, iv, . as thierry notes (p. ), john ball's english is much less gallicised than that which became the literary tongue.] [footnote : "depuis les dominateurs de l'orient jusqu'aux maîtres de rome asservie ... quiconque détient la liberté d'autrui dans la servitude, perd la sienne...." (morin, _origines de la démocratie_, pp. - ).] [footnote : cp. busch, _england unter den tudors_, , i, .] [footnote : stubbs, _const. hist._, iii, , ; busch, _england unter den tudors_, i, ; green, ch. vi, § , pp. , , , .] [footnote : cp. gardiner, _student's history_, p. .] [footnote : the clergy and the parliament seem to have applauded the project of an invasion of france instantly and without reservation (sharon turner, _history of england during the middle ages_, ii, ). and already in the minority of henry vi "the parliament was fast dying down into a mere representation of the baronage and the great landowners" (green, ch. vi, p. ). "never before and never again for more than two hundred years were the commons so strong as they were under henry iv" (stubbs, iii, ).] [footnote : pearson, _english history in the fourteenth century_, pp. , . among the minor forms of oppression were local vetoes on the grinding of the people's own corn by themselves in their handmills. thus "the tenants of st. albans extorted a licence to use querns at the time of tyler's rebellion" (morgan, _england under the normans_, , p. ).] [footnote : as to the failure of these laws see gasquet, _the great pestilence_, , p. sq.] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : lewis's _life of wiclif_, ed. , pp. , ; lechler's _john wycliffe and his english precursors_, eng. tr. -vol. ed. pp. - ; prof. montagu burrows, _wiclif's place in history_, p. .] [footnote : green, _short history_, ch. v, § ; gardiner, _introduction_, pp. - ; rogers, _six centuries of work and wages_, p. .] [footnote : cp. sharon turner, _england during the middle ages_, ii, ; iii, ; milman, _latin christianity_, viii, , .] [footnote : green, ch. v, § , p. ; stubbs, iii, - . he further refused the petition from the commons in , demanding that no "neif or villein" should be allowed to have his children educated. cp. de montmorency, _state intervention in english education_, , p. .] [footnote : green, p. ; stubbs, iii. . it is plain that among the factious nobility, and even the courtiers, of the time there was a strong disposition to plunder the church (stubbs, iii, , , ). doubt is cast by bishop stubbs on walsingham's story of the lollard petition of for the confiscation of the lands of bishops and abbots, and the endowment therewith of earls, , knights, , esquires, and hospitals (stubbs, iii, ; cp. milman, _latin christianity_, viii, ; ix, - ); but in any case many laymen leant to such views, and the king's resistance was steadfast. yet an archbishop of york, a bishop, and an abbot successively rebelled against him. on his hanging of the archbishop, see the remarkable professional reflections of bishop stubbs (iii, ).] [footnote : act hen. iv, c. . cp. de montmorency, _state intervention in english education_, , p. .] [footnote : stubbs, iii, ; de montmorency, p. ; act hen. iv, c. .] [footnote : schanz (_englische handelspolitik_, i, , ) decides that the middle class was the only one which gained. the lower fared as ill as the upper. cp. stubbs, iii, .] [footnote : hallam (_constitutional history_, th ed. , ) doubts whether henry vii carried the power of the crown much beyond the point reached by edward. busch, who substantially agrees (_england unter den tudors_, i, , _note_), misreads hallam in criticising him, overlooking the "much." edward had so incensed the london traders by his exactions that it was by way of undertaking to redress these and similar grievances that richard iii ingratiated himself (green, pp. - ).] [footnote : cp. green, pp. - .] [footnote : stubbs, iii, ; hallam, _middle ages_, iii, , ; green, ch. vi, § , p. . this, however, did not mean the maintenance of english shipping, which declined. see act hen. vii, c. ; and cp. cunningham, _growth of english industry_, § . "france seems to have had a considerable share of foreign commerce near a century before england was distinguished as a commercial country" (adam smith, _wealth of nations_, bk. iii, ch. iv). yet fishing and seafaring ranked as the main national industries (busch, _england unter den tudors_, i, ).] [footnote : see stubbs, i, , as to the large foreign element in the london population, apart from the hansa factory; and cp. ashley, _introd. to economic history_, ii, .] [footnote : the fact that the scandinavian kings were eager to damage the hansa by encouraging english and dutch traders would be a special stimulus.] [footnote : cunningham, _growth of english industry and commerce_, i, .] [footnote : busch, _england unter den tudors_, i, - . edward had actually traded extensively on his own account, freighting ships to the mediterranean with tin, wool, and cloth green, p. ; henry, _history of great britain_, ed. , xii, , - ; act hen. vii, c. ; hall's _chronicle_, under henry vii.] [footnote : green, p. .] [footnote : "something like a fifth of the actual land in the kingdom was ... transferred from the holding of the church to that of nobles and gentry" (green, ch. vii, § , p. ).] [footnote : cp. e. armstrong, _introduction_ to martin hume's _spain_, , pp. , , ; prescott, _history of ferdinand and isabella_, pt. i, ch. vi, _end_; hallam, _middle ages_, iii, .] [footnote : see stubbs, iii, - , as to the extent to which ability to read was spread among the common people. as to the general effect on mental life see the vigorous though uncritical panegyric of hazlitt, _lectures on the literature of the age of elizabeth_, ed. , pp. - .] [footnote : as to the democratic element in calvinism, which develops from lollardism, see the interesting remarks of buckle, -vol. ed. ii, ; -vol. ed. p. . prof. gardiner sums up (_introduction to the study of english history_, pp. , ) "that as soon as lollardism ceased to be fostered by the indignation of the labouring class against its oppressors, it dwindled away." compare the conclusions of prof. thorold rogers, _six centuries of work and wages_, p. , and see above, p. . prof. rogers (p. ) traces the success of the reformation in the eastern counties to the long work of lollardism there. in the same district lay the chief strength of the rebellion. compare his _economic interpretation of history_, pp. - .] [footnote : gardiner, _history of england, - _, ed. , i, .] [footnote : cp. pulszky, _the theory of law and civil society_, p. . "theocracy in itself, being the hierarchical rule of a priestly class, is but a species of aristocracy." and see buckle's chapter, "an examination of the scotch intellect during the seventeenth century" ( -vol. ed. iii, , ; -vol. ed. pp. - ; and notes , , ) for the express claims of the scotch clergy to give out "the whole counsel of god."] [footnote : dr. gardiner writes:--"nor was it indifference alone which kept these powerful men aloof; they had an instinctive feeling that the system to which they owed their high position was doomed, and that it was from the influence which the preachers were acquiring that immediate danger was to be apprehended to their own position" (last cit.). one is at a loss to infer how the historian can know of or prove the existence of such an instinct.] [footnote : in her partialities she was fully as ill-judging as mary of scotland. to the eye of the spanish ambassador dudley was "heartless, spiritless, treacherous, and false" (bishop creighton, _queen elizabeth_, ed. , p. ). essex in turn was a furious fool.] [footnote : as to the change in english feeling between , when the catholic missionaries were widely welcomed, and the years after , see _the dynamics of religion_, by "m.w. wiseman" (j.m. r.). cp. gardiner, _history of england, - _, ed. , i, : "every threat uttered by a spanish ambassador rallied to the national government hundreds who in quieter times would have looked with little satisfaction on the changed ceremonies of the elizabethan church."] [footnote : cp. motley, _history of the united netherlands_, , i, _sq._] [footnote : in his _introduction to the study of english history_ ( ) prof. gardiner, through a dozen pages, discusses the action of elizabeth's government solely in terms of her personality, never once mentioning her advisers. on this line he reaches the proposition that "the homage, absurd as it came to be, which was paid to the imaginary beauties of the royal person was in the main only an expression of the consciousness that peace and justice, the punishment of wickedness and vice, and the maintenance of good order and virtue, came primarily from the queen and secondarily from the church." one is moved to suggest that the nonsense in question was not so bottomless as it is here virtually made out.] [footnote : "there was no truth nor honesty in anything she said" (bishop creighton, _queen elizabeth_, p. ; cp. pp. , , , , , - ).] [footnote : her practice of leaving her truest servants to bear their own outlays in her service, begun with cecil (creighton, p. ), was copied from charles v and philip ii, but was carried farther by her than ever by them. all the while she heaped gifts on her favourites.] [footnote : _e.g._, mr. gibbins's _industrial history of england_, pp. - , . the point of view seems to have been set up by cobbett's _history of the reformation_.] [footnote : cp. ashley, _introd. to economic history_, ii, - .] [footnote : cp. more's _utopia_, bk. i (arber's ed. p. ; morley's, p. ); and bacon's _history of henry vii_, bohn ed. p. . more expressly charges certain abbots with a share in the process of eviction.] [footnote : cp. green, ch. vi, § . green goes on to speak of the earlier statutes of labourers as setting up the "terrible heritage of a pauper class" (p. , also p. ). this is a fresh error of the same sort as that above dealt with. a pauper class was inevitable, whatever laws were made.] [footnote : bishop stubbs puts it (iii, ) that the increase of commerce during the wars of the roses was "to some extent a refuge for exhausted families, and a safety-valve for energies shut out of their proper sphere." the proposition in this form is obscure.] [footnote : on this see stubbs, ch. xxi, §§ , .] [footnote : act hen. vii, c. , preamble, and c. .] [footnote : cp. moreton on _civilisation_, , p. ; cunningham, _english industry_, i, .] [footnote : cp. cliffe leslie, _essays in political and moral philosophy_, p. ; toynbee, _the industrial revolution_, pp. , ; gibbon's _memoirs_, beginning.] [footnote : gardiner, _introd. to eng. hist._ , p. ; cunningham, _industry and commerce_, i, .] [footnote : rogers, _story of holland_, p. , and _six centuries_, p. ; w.t. mccullagh's _industrial history of the free nations_, , ii, , ; gibbins, pp. , .] [footnote : rogers, _history of agriculture and prices_, iv, , , citing acts hen. viii, c. , and hen. viii, cc. , .] [footnote : it is in the prologue to act v, . - . i affirm without hesitation that the prologues to all five acts are non-shakespearean, and plainly by one other hand. compare the chorus prologues to dekker's _old fortunatus_, which are in exactly the same style. in the latest biography, however (lee's, p. ), there is no recognition of any such possibility. it is surprising that steevens and ritson, who pronounced the prologue to _troilus and cressida_ non-shakespearean, should not have suspected those to _henry v_, which are so signally similar in style. dekker's connection with _troilus and cressida_ is indicated by henslowe's diary. the style is a nearly decisive clue to his authorship of the _henry v_ prologues.] [footnote : lee's _life_, pp. , .] [footnote : a theory of this is suggested in the author's _montaigne and shakespeare_.] [footnote : cp. froude, _history of england_, ed. , x, , , , , xi, ; spenser's _view of the present state of ireland_, globe ed. of works, p. ; lecky's _history of ireland in the eighteenth century_, i, ; gardiner, _history of england, - _, ed. , i, , , , ; j.a. fox, _key to the irish question_, , ch. xxix; and the author's _the saxon and the celt_, pp. - .] [footnote : compare the very just appreciation of green, ch. vi, § , p. .] [footnote : see isaac disraeli's study, "the psychological character of sir thomas more," in the _amenities of literature_.] [footnote : compared with henry viii, more might be pronounced a specifically "celtic" as opposed to an aggressively "saxon" type. henry seems a typical english beef-eater. yet he too was of welsh descent!] chapter ii the rebellion and the commonwealth § nearly all the conceivable materials of disaffection, save personal misconduct on the king's part,[ ] went to prepare the great rebellion. religious antipathies, indeed, no longer rested on the naked ground of lands taken and in danger of being re-taken;[ ] but there had been developed an intense animus of protestant against catholic, the instinct of strife running the more violently in that channel because so few others were open, relatively to the store of restless brute force in the country. perhaps, indeed, presbyterians hated episcopalians and arminians, at bottom, nearly as much as they did catholics; but the chronic panics, from the time of elizabeth onwards, the mythology of the marian period, and the story of the massacres of alva and of st. bartholomew's day, served to unite protestants in this one point of anti-papalism, and had set up as it were a new human passion in the sphere of english politics. and to this passion james and charles in turn ran counter with an infatuated persistence. james, who was so much more annoyed by puritans than by papists, planned for his son, with an eye to a dowry, the spanish marriage, which of all possible matches would most offend the english people; and when that fell through, another catholic bride was found in the daughter of the king of france. the pledges, so natural in the circumstances, to "tolerate" catholics in england, were a standing ground of panic to the intolerant protestants, even though unfulfilled; and the new king stood in the sinister position of sheltering in his household the religion for which he dared not claim freedom in the country. such a ground of unpopularity could be balanced only by some signal grounds of favour; but james and charles alike chose unpopular grounds of war, and failed badly to boot. to crown all, they exhibited to the full the hereditary unwisdom of their dynasty in the choice of favourites;[ ] and the almost unexampled animosity incurred by buckingham could not but reflect somewhat towards charles, whose refined and artistic tastes, besides, made him the natural enemy of the text-worshipping and mostly art-hating puritans. thus everything made for friction between king and subjects; and when charles, to raise necessary funds, resorted to measures of no abnormal oppressiveness as compared with those of the tudors, he was doggedly resisted by parliaments professedly standing on law, but really actuated by a fixed suspicion of all his aims. teeth were on edge all round. when a merchant, mulcted in a heavy customs duty, happened to be a puritan, he resisted with a special zest; and one such declared before the privy council that "in no part of the world, not even in turkey, were the merchants so screwed and wrung as in england."[ ] the king, unhappily for himself, conciliated nobody. not content with alienating nobles by imposing huge fines in revival of the forest laws, he incensed the corporation of london by confiscating their estates in ulster, conferred by his father, and levying a fine of £ , to boot, for alleged breaches of charter.[ ] besides selling many trade monopolies, he passed vexatious sumptuary laws, fixing the prices of poultry, butter, and coals, and insisting on the incorporation of all tradesmen and artificers.[ ] the friction was well-nigh universal; and but for the remarkable prosperity built up by the long peace,[ ] the trouble might have come much sooner. but it is idle to keep up the pretence that what was at stake was the principle of freedom. the first demand of the parliamentary opposition was for the more thorough persecution of the catholics. parliamentarians such as eliot were more oppressive in religious matters than laud himself. he sought only uniformity of worship, they uniformity of doctrine; and they punished for heresy more unpardonably than did the star chamber for gross libel. see gardiner, _history of england, - _, small ed. v, , as to eliot's plans to fit out the fleet by means of "those penalties the papists have already incurred"--a proposal which, says dr. gardiner, "if it had been translated into figures, would have created a tyranny too monstrous to be contemplated with equanimity." and eliot was all for a persecution of the arminians (_id._ vii, - ). in the corporation of london petitioned parliament to suppress "all sects without toleration." nor were they less oppressive in their fiscal policy. after beginning a revolt against illegal taxation, pym secured the imposition of taxes on beverages ( ), on flesh, salt, textile goods, and many other commodities, "at the sword's point," against the general resistance of the people.[ ] there were at work a hundred motives of strife; and it was only the preternatural ill-luck or unwisdom of charles that united parliament against him so long. it needed all the infatuation of an express training in the metaphysics of divine right to enable a king of england, even after james i, to blunder through the immense network of superstition that hedged him round; indeed, the very intensity of the royalist superstition best explains the royal infatuation. so fixed was the monarchic principle in the minds of the people, who, then as later, swore by monarchy but hated paying for it, that in the earlier years of the struggle not even the zealots could have dreamt of the end that was to be. regicide entered no man's mind, even as a nightmare. § on charles, as the greatest "architect of ruin" in english political history, psychological interest fastens with only less intensity than on his great antagonist. the astonishing triple portrait by vandyke reveals, with an audacity that is positively startling when we think of the other effigies by the same artist, a character stamped at once with impotence and untruth. one slight suggestion of strength lies in the look of grave self-esteem--a quality which would in charles be fostered from the first by his refined revolt from the undignified ways of his father; but it is withal the very countenance of duplicity. puritan prejudice could not exaggerate the testimony of the daring artist. we seem to understand at once how he deceived and alienated holland and spain as well as the parties among his own subjects. and it was the very excess of duplicity, or rather the fatal combination of duplicity with infirmity of purpose,[ ] that destroyed the man. as the war wore on, and above all after it was closed, the discords of the parliament and the army were such that the most ordinary practical sagacity could have turned them to the triumph of the king's cause. this is the most instructive phase of the rebellion. the presbyterian majority which had grown up in parliament--a growth still imperfectly elucidated--represented only one of the great warring sects of the day; and if, after independency, led by cromwell, had come to daggers drawn with the despots of the commons, charles had only agreed to any working settlement whatever, he might with perfect confidence have left the conflicting forces to throttle each other afterwards. any arrangement he might have made, whether with the presbyterians or with cromwell, would have broken down of itself, and he might have set up his own polity in the end. but he so enjoyed his intrigues, as it were indemnifying himself by them for his weakness of will, that he thought to triumph by them alone, and would not wait for the slower chemistry of normal political development; so that the independents, driven desperate by his deceits, had to execute him in self-preservation. § as it was, the history of the rebellion remains none the less the tragi-comedy of the old constitutionalism. parliament, resisting as illegal the supremacy of the king, went from one illegality to another in resisting him, till his tyrannies became trivial in comparison. and cromwell, who must have set out with convictions about the sanctity of law, although doubtless fundamentally moved by the all-pervading fear of popery, was led by an ironical fate, step by step, into a series of political crimes which, if those of charles deserved beheading, could be coped with only in the medieval hell. cp. hallam, ii, ; and cowley's _essays_, ed. , p. _et seq._ to say nothing of cromwell's illegal exactions, his selling of at least fifty englishmen into slavery in the west indies (on which see cowley, p. ; hallam, ii, , _note_; and carlyle, _letters and speeches_, ed. , iii, --where the victims are put at "hundreds")--albeit no worse than the similar selling of irish and scotch prisoners--was an act which, if committed earlier by any king, would have covered his name with historical infamy. prof. firth points out that the practice began under james i, but it was then applied only to felons and vagrants. cromwell's example was followed under charles ii with regard to the covenanting rebels in scotland; and the plan was again followed in the cases of monmouth's rebellion and that of . (cited in note on lomas's ed. of carlyle's _cromwell_, ii, .) as regards ireland, the selling of prisoners into slavery was not restricted to the case of the survivors of drogheda (carlyle's _cromwell_, as cited, ii, ; ed. lomas, i, ). it is proved that cromwell's agents captured not only youths, but girls, for export to the west indies (prendergast, _the cromwellian settlement_, nd ed. p. ); and that the slavery there was of the cruellest sort (cunningham, _growth of english industry and commerce_, ii, ), though it has to be kept in view that it was not perpetual; the victim being strictly an "indentured labourer," only for a certain number of years at the mercy of his owner (gardiner, _commonwealth and protectorate_, small ed. iii, - , _note_; iv, - ). of course the limitation of the term made the servitude all the more severe (lomas's note cited). in the end, the protector terrorised his own law courts as charles had never dared to do. see clarendon, bk. xv, ed. oxford, , p. , and hallam, ii, , , , _note_. cromwell's language, as recorded by clarendon, would startle some of his admirers by its indecency if they took the trouble to read the passage. cp. vaughan, _hist. of england under the stuarts_, etc., p. (citing whitelocke and ludlow), as to the law courts. vaughan overlooks the selling of royalists as slaves. it was small wonder that posterity came to canonise the king; for in terms even of the roundhead principles of impeachment he was a political saint in comparison with the "usurper." and royalists might well imagine cromwell as haunted by remorse; for nothing short of the "besotted fanaticism" of which, as hallam pronounces, he had sucked the dregs, could keep him self-complacent over the retrospect of the civil war when he was governing by the major-generals, after failing to govern with farcically packed parliaments. his fanaticism was, of course, in the ratio of his will-power, but each supported the other. the modern exaltation of his character, as against the earlier and rather saner habit of crediting him with great powers, relatively high purposes, and great misdeeds,[ ] has tended to throw in the shade the blazing lesson of his career, which is that, like most of his colleagues, he had set out with no political insight or foresight whatever. his conscientious beginnings are so utterly at issue with his endings that it is indeed almost superfluous to condemn either--as superfluous as to denounce the infatuation of charles. but it is of importance to remember that his very success as a carlylean ruler only emphasises the failure of his original politics. he succeeded by way of repudiating nearly every principle on behalf of which he had taken up arms. even apart from the invigorating spectacle of his executive genius,[ ] he may well stir our sympathy, which is more subtly and deeply exercised by his inner tragedy, by the deadliness of his success in the light of his aims, than by the simpler ill-fortune of charles. but as politicians our business is not to divide our sympathies between the powerful pietist who was forced to give the lie to his life to save it, and the weak liar who lost his life because he was at bottom faithful to his life's creed. the superiority of cromwell in strength of will and in administrative faculty is too glaring to need acknowledging; and the lesson that a strong man can tyrannise grossly where a weak man cannot tyrannise trivially, is not one that particularly needs pressing. what it is essential to note is that the course of events which forced and led cromwell into despotism was for the next generation a strong argument against free parliamentary government. our generation, proceeding mainly on the work of carlyle, who never really elucidates or even seeks to comprehend political and social developments, has in large part lost sight of the fact that cromwell was more and more clearly becoming a military despot; and that with twenty more years of life he might have established a new military and naval empire. yet at the time of his death his financial position was that of a military adventurer at his wits' end, and his unscrupulous attack on spain was plainly planned by way of coming at money.[ ] dr. gardiner, who has been the first english[ ] historian to handle the case with comprehensive insight, rightly compares the position of cromwell with that of napoleon. he was in fact just another sample of the recurrent type of the military ruler establishing himself as despot on the ruins of faction. "except for four months ... the whole of the protectorate was a time either of war or of active preparation for war; and even during those months the protector was hesitating, not whether he should keep the peace or not, but merely what enemy he should attack."[ ] finally he made war on spain, by the admission of the friendly historian, "after the fashion of a midnight conspirator," deceiving the other side in order to gain a mean advantage.[ ] to such a policy there was no limit in national conscience, any more than in his. he had a standing army of , men, an immense force for the england of that day; his revenue stood at two millions and a quarter, nearly four times the figure of twenty years before; and still he was in desperate financial straits, his outlays being nearly half a million in excess of the income.[ ] the result was "a war for material gains"; and it consists with all we know of history to say that with continued success in such undertakings during a lengthened life he would have won the mass of his countrymen to his allegiance. a few dates and details make the process dramatically clear. admiral blake won his first notable victory over van tromp in february, ; and in april cromwell felt himself in a position to expel the recalcitrant parliament, though that had always specially favoured the navy. in this act he had the general approval of the people;[ ] but he took care to change some of the naval commanders.[ ] the next parliament was the nominated one called the "barebones," wherein none were elected, and which went to pieces in the strife of its factions, since even nomination could not secure concord among puritans. then came the parliament of , elected from purged constituencies. from this were excluded a hundred members who refused to sign an engagement not to alter the system in force; and finally the remnant was angrily dissolved, and military rule established under the major-generals. yet again, in , driven by need of money, the protector called another packed parliament, from which he nevertheless lawlessly excluded elected members; and on their protesting there was a distinct increase of the already obvious public displeasure at such repeated acts of tyranny. this was in september; but in october came the news of stayner's capture of the spanish treasure-ships; and in november the treasure arrived--what the naval officers had left of it. on this the parliament promptly voted everything that its master asked for;[ ] new taxes were laid to carry on the wanton war with spain; and in january it was proposed to offer him the crown. yet when, after a six months' adjournment, that parliament debated points on which he wanted submission, he furiously dissolved it as he had done its predecessors. such is the process of imperialism. with a few more years of ostensibly profitable conquest, cromwell, acclaimed and urged on in the career of aggression by such different types of poet as waller[ ] and marvell,[ ] would as a matter of course have been made king, with the final consent of the army, and would have ruled as the crowned imperator. in that case his puritanism, instead of putting any conscientious check on his egoism, would have fed it as mohammed's faith did his.[ ] thus his early death was one of the important "accidents" of history.[ ] § as it was, cromwell lived only long enough to create an intellectual as well as a conservative reaction. surprise has been sometimes expressed, and must have been oftener felt, at the virtual high toryism of the doctrine of hobbes,[ ] who was so little conservative in his general habit of mind. the truth is that in , or at least in , the monarchism of hobbes was the ostensible liberalism of the hour. parliamentarism had meant first sectarian tyranny, then anarchy, then military despotism; and there was not the slightest prospect of a parliamentary government which should mean religious or intellectual freedom all round. hobbes would infallibly have been at least thrown into prison by the long parliament if in its earlier time of power he had published his remarks on the pentateuch. they punished for much milder exercises of critical opinion. a strong monarchy was become, from the point of view of many enlightened men, positively the best available security for general freedom of life, at a time when the spirit of religion had multiplied tenfold the normal impulses to social tyranny and furnished the deepest channel of social ill-will compatible with national unity. it lay in christianity, as it lay earlier in judaism, to breed an intensity of religious strife such as the pagan world never knew. various countries had seen sects arise and grapple with each other on the score of this or that interpretation of the hebrew sacred books, and men of conservative bias felt that they were face to face with insane forces incompatible with a democratic system. religious lore, above all other learning, could make men more "excellently foolish," as hobbes put it, than was possible to mere ignorance, making new and uncontrollable motives to disunion. it is not to be assumed, indeed, that a revolution begun on any motive whatever would have maintained itself at the then developed stage of political intelligence; for the english people, which constantly accuses others of lack of faculty for union, had never shown itself any better fitted for rational compromise than the irish, given conditions of equal stress. scandinavian, german, dutch, english--all the teutonic sections alike had in all ages shown in the fullest degree the force of the primary passions of self-assertion and mutual repulsion, cordially uniting only, if at all, for purposes of aggression. but in the case under notice it was the religious passions that dug the channels of strife; and they must be held to have added to the volume of blind emotion. thus intensified, the principle had shown itself potent to wreck any commonwealth; and there remained only the choice between a usurper governing through an army and a "legitimate" monarch governing as of old by way of parliament and a civil service. parliament had been the most offensive tyrant of all, for while making most parade of legality it had been the most self-seeking,[ ] and perhaps even the least respectable as regards its _personnel_. the liberals of the latter time had their cue given to them by the memorable falkland, who, grievedly "ingeminating peace, peace," had recoiled from the intolerant puritans, and sadly joined the intolerant royalists. macaulay's thrust at him for this,[ ] if technically just, was hardly seemly on the critic's part, for falkland represented exactly the temper of macaulay's own politics. he was an ideal whig of the later school--the very saint of moderation. falkland had indeed special ground for withdrawal from the puritan party, in that he was convinced that hampden and pym had deceived him as to the king's complicity in the irish rebellion and other matters. he had been "persuaded to believe many things which he had since found to be untrue."[ ] but in most things the puritans must have jarred on him.[ ] where he had consented to go, albeit deliberately to his death, as a cavalier, his disciples might well become theoretic monarchists when the whole torrent of public opinion went for the restoration. of course, the hope of social freedom was destined to frustration under the restored monarchy just as before, since there was still no culture force sufficient to purify the animal instinct of antagonism. the restoration only meant that the episcopalian dog was uppermost and the nonconformist under. but all the same, commonwealth principles were profoundly discredited; and it is notable that never since has republican principle ostensibly regained in england the stature it had reached in the hotbeds of the great rebellion and the protectorate. the long struggle against the king had educated many of the strivers into democratism, as did the later struggle of the american colonies against george iii. even in the parliament of richard cromwell, after republican hopes had been so blasted, there were forty-seven avowed republicans,[ ] the remnant of the breed. with the return of the monarchy it virtually disappears from english politics for a hundred and thirty years;[ ] when again it rises for a moment in the hot air of the french revolution, only to disappear again for nearly another century. it was after the rebellion, and not before, that the dogma of divine right became completely current orthodoxy in england.[ ] § the collapse of republicanism meant the collapse of the class politics that had grown up in the war and in the commonwealth alongside of the creed politics. the creed politics itself, when carried to the lengths of the doctrine of the independents, meant a challenge to the political system; and among the more advanced reasoners of the period were some who saw that to put down kingly tyranny was of little avail while class inequalities remained. the long parliament, though not going this length, went far in the way of putting down some established abuses; and there are many records of a more searching spirit of innovation. it is important to realise that alike under charles i and cromwell the parliaments tended to be partly composed of and ruled by the more audacious spirits of the time, simply because these had the advantage in discussion wherever they were. the incapacity for speech which in later times has made the conservative party welcome adventurers as its mouthpieces meant the partial obliteration of the conservative class in the early days of unorganised parliamentary strife; and cromwell's own parliaments baffled him in virtue of their large elements of upstart intelligence. he himself, having entered the war from a mixture of motives in which there was no idea of social reconstruction, was merely irritated by the ideals of the more radical agitators, which he could not out-argue, but on which he promptly put his foot. it is true that in the immense ferment set up by the rebellion impracticable ideas abounded, and that they suggested risks of civil anarchy, even as the multitude of sectaries threatened chaos in religion. we find indeed an express affirmation of anarchism in the literature of the period;[ ] and generally the english revolution had in it most of the subversive elements which later evolved the french, the determining difference being that the english was not attacked from the outside. but there were practical plans also. lilburne had a really constructive scheme of popular enfranchisement,[ ] which might have built up a democratic force of resistance to royalism as such; but cromwell, while ready to overthrow any part of the constitution that hampered him, would build up nothing in its place. he would have no alteration of the social structure, save in so far as he must protect his independents from the presbyterians and episcopalians alike. and of course, when his polity fell, the ideals of the independents of politics--who had represented only a tribe of scattered intelligences, much fewer than the mere religious sectaries, who were themselves but a vigorous minority--speedily disappeared from english affairs. the standards of the average orthodox class became the standards of public life. on the side of international relations, finally, cromwell and the commonwealth did nothing to improve politics. commerce began to spread afresh; and commercial and racial jealousy, under the puritan as later under the restoration rule, bred war with the dutch, just as religious hatreds had made war between england and spain. the final proof of cromwell's lack of political wisdom is given in his utterly fantastic scheme for a constitutional union of the english and dutch republics, a scheme which could not have worked for a week. when this proposal was declined by the dutch states-general, he seems to have been as ready as any filibuster in england to go to war with the states;[ ] and it is evident that the navigation act of was at once an act of revenge for the insults put upon the english ambassadors by the dutch orangeist populace, against the will of the dutch government, and a wanton effort to punish the states for declining the protector's absurd proposals.[ ] the two protestant republics thereupon grappled like two worrying dogs; and for their first ostensible victory the english parliament publicly thanked god as unctuously as for any of the victories of the civil war.[ ] in their hands and cromwell's international politics sank at once to the normal levels of primitive instinct. mr. frederic harrison (_cromwell_, ch. xiii) glorifies cromwell's foreign policy on the score that it made england great in the eyes of foreign countries. exactly so might we eulogise the foreign policy of louis xiv or philip ii or napoleon--so long as it succeeded. cromwell, up to the time when he began to scheme an empire of naval aggression, simply aimed at a protestant combination as other rulers aimed at catholic combinations. there was nothing new in the idea; and it would have been astonishing if he had _not_ maintained the naval power of the country. it was to this very end that the luckless charles imposed his ship-money, which hampden and his backers refused to pay. as regards home politics, again, mr. harrison praises cromwell for preserving order with unprecedented success, making no allowance for the fact that cromwell was the first englishman who governed through a standing army, and making no attempt to refute ludlow's statements (cited by hallam, ii, , _note_; cp. vaughan, p. , _note_) as to the gross tyranny of the major-generals, or to meet the charge against cromwell of selling scores of royalists into slavery at barbadoes. mr. harrison finally justifies cromwell's policy in the main on the score of "necessity," despite the proverbial quotation. it was exactly on the plea of necessity that charles justified himself in his day, when cromwell joined in resisting him. mr. harrison again extols the "generosity" and "moral elevation" of the intervention for the vaudois, when on the same page he has to admit the infamy of the cromwellian treatment of ireland. he sees no incongruity in milton's emotion over the "slaughtered saints" of protestantism, while catholic ecclesiastics were with his approval being slain like dogs. moral and social science must hold the balances more evenly than this. § while thus showing that in his foreign relations in general he had no higher principle than that which led him to protect the protestant vaudois, cromwell himself could not or would not tolerate catholicism in england. what was immeasurably worse, he had put thousands of irish catholics to the sword, and reduced tens of thousands more to the life conditions of wild animals. his policy in ireland, if judged by the standards we apply to the rule of other men, must be pronounced one of blind brutality. he had helped to make a civil war in england because his class was at times arbitrarily taxed, and had fears that its worship would be interfered with; and in so doing he felt he had the support and sanction of omnipotence. when it came to dealing with irishmen who stood up for their race ideals and their religion, he acted as if for him principles of moral and religious right did not exist.[ ] his most ferocious deeds he justified by reference to the ulster massacre of , as if all irishmen had been concerned in that, and as if the previous english massacres had not been tenfold more bloody. under his own government, by the calculation of sir william petty, out of a population of , , , , had in eleven years perished by the sword, by plague, or by famine artificially produced. of these, , were reckoned to be of irish and , of english descent. and it was planned to reduce the survivors to a life of utter destitution in connaught and clare. by the settlement of , ten of the thirty-two irish counties were allotted to the "adventurers" who in had advanced sums of money to aid in putting down the irish rebellion; twelve were divided among cromwell's soldiers; seven, with all the cities and corporations of the kingdom, were reserved for the commonwealth; and three of the most barren counties--for the most part unreclaimed--were left for the natives. the settlement could not be carried out as planned by the government, and as evidently desired by fleetwood, the lord deputy, and many of the officers. the very greed of the soldiery defeated the project of a "universal transplantation," for they were as eager for irish labour as for irish land.[ ] but the confiscation of the land was carried out to the full, and multitudes were forced into connaught. the worst tyranny of charles is thus as dust in the balance with cromwell's expropriation of myriads of conquered irish. for them he had neither the show of law nor the pretence of equity. they were treated as conquered races had been treated, not by the romans, who normally sought to absorb in their polity the peoples they overcame, but by barbarians in their mutual wars, where the loser was driven to the wilderness. far from seeking to grapple as a statesman with the problem of irish disaffection, he struck into it like a berserker, on the same inspiration of animal fury as took him into the breach at drogheda; and his or his officers' enactments, providing for the slaughter of all natives who did not carry certificates of having taken the anti-royalist oath, are to be matched in history only with the treatment of the conquered slavs by the christianising germans in the dark ages. dr. gardiner and mr. harrison partly defend the massacre of drogheda as justified by the "laws of war" of the time. it is true that for the period it was not very much out of the way. the royalist manley, describing it, says only (_history of the rebellions_, , p. ): "i would not condemn the promiscuous slaughter of the citizens and souldiers, of cruelty, because it might be intended for example and terror to others, _if the like barbarity had not been committed elsewhere_." but manley seems to have forgotten the friars, whose slaughter neither laws of war nor european custom exonerated. there were really no "laws of war" in the case. dr. gardiner (_student's history_, p. ; _commonwealth and protectorate_, small ed. i, ) puts it that these laws "left garrisons refusing, as that of drogheda had done, to surrender an _indefensible_ post ... to the mercy or cruelty of the enemy." but it is unwarrantable to call drogheda an "indefensible post." dr. gardiner's thesis that any captured post, however hard to take, is _ipso facto_ proved to have been indefensible, may be dismissed as a very bad sophism. elsewhere he himself puts it (p. , _note_) that men "defending a fortified town _after the defences had been captured_" were liable to be slain--a very different thing. drogheda contained , foot, mostly english, "the flower of ormond's army," as dr. gardiner avows. mr. harrison (_oliver cromwell_, p. ) perhaps errs in saying that its commander, sir arthur aston, an officer of "great name and experience ... at that time made little doubt of defending it against all the power of cromwell." cp. gardiner, _com. and prot._, small ed. i, , as to aston's straits. it had, however, actually resisted siege by the catholics for three years, and it was only by desperate efforts that cromwell carried it. he went into the breach with the forlorn hope, and he gave the order for slaughter, as he himself admits, in the fury of action. the first order, be it observed, was to slay all "in arms _in the town_"--this at a time when men commonly carried arms in time of peace, and members wore their swords in parliament. it simply meant a massacre of the male inhabitants. the garrison was not so slaughtered: when the surrender of the garrison came, cromwell's blood-lust was slaked, and he spared all but every tenth man--for slavery in the barbadoes. nor did his men merely slay those taken in arms. he tells that "their friars were knocked on the head promiscuously"; and it is impossible wholly to refuse to believe the royalist statement of the time, that men, women, and children were indiscriminately slaughtered. dr. gardiner, on somewhat insufficient grounds (_history of the commonwealth_, i, , , _note_), entirely rejects the personal testimony of the brother of anthony à wood (anthony's _autobiography_, ed. oxford, , pp. , ) as to cromwell's men holding up children as shields when pursuing some soldiers of the garrison who defended themselves. dr. gardiner is himself in error in respect of one charge of improbability which he brings against the narrative, as quoted by himself. but in any case his own narrative, as he evidently feels, shows the cromwellian troops to have been sufficiently ferocious. quarter was promised, and then withheld (gardiner, i, , _note_, ); and by dr. gardiner's own showing the "parliamentary" account itself avows that the final surrender of the defenders on the "mount" was obtained by sheer treachery--a fact which dr. gardiner gloses even while showing it. a puritan drunk with the lust of battle is a beast like any other. cromwell himself had to quiet his conscience with his usual drug of religion. but if this act had been done by cavaliers or catholics upon a puritan garrison and independent priests, he and his party would have held it up to horror for ever. the only defence he could make was that this was vengeance for the great irish massacre--that is to say, that he had shown he could be as bloody as the irish, who on their part had all the english massacres of the previous generation to avenge--a circumstance carefully ignored by clerical writers who still justify cromwell in the name of christianity, as seeking to make future massacres impossible. all the while, there was not the slightest pretence of showing that the garrison of drogheda had been concerned in the old massacre. compare, on this, the emphatic verdict of dr. gardiner, _history of the commonwealth_, i, . mr. harrison (p. ) quotes cromwell's challenge to opponents to show any instance of a man "not in arms" being put to death with impunity--this after he had avowed the slaughter of all priests and chaplains! his general assertion of the scrupulousness of his party was palpably false; and it is idle to say that he must have believed it true. that ireton's puritan troops slew numbers of disarmed and unarmed irish with brutal cruelty and treachery _against ireton's reiterated orders_, is shown by dr. gardiner; and he tells how ireton hanged a girl who tried to escape from limerick (_commonwealth_, ii, , ). is it then to be supposed that cromwell's men were more humane when he was hounding them on to massacre? as to the further slaughter of natives, there stands the assertion of father french (_narrative of the earl of clarendon's settlement and sale of ireland_, dublin, rep. , p. ) that under the proclamation which commanded the soldiers to slay any men met on the highway without a certificate of having "taken the engagement" abjuring the monarchy, "silly peasants who out of ignorance or want of care ... left their tickets at home, were barbarously murdered." in the circumstances the statement is only too credible. there remains to be considered the old plea that the massacre of drogheda made an end of serious resistance, and so saved life. thus carlyle: "wexford storm followed (not by forethought, it would seem, but by chance of war) in the same fashion; and there was no other storm or slaughter needed in that country" (_cromwell_, comm. on letter cv). this is one of carlyle's innumerable misstatements of fact. even on his own view, the wexford slaughter had to follow that of drogheda. but, as gardiner shows, cromwell's bloodshed at drogheda and wexford, "so far from sparing effusion of blood," though "successful at ross and at a few lesser strongholds, had only served to exasperate the garrisons of duncannon, of kilkenny, and of clonmel; and in his later movements cromwell, always prepared to accept the teaching of events(!), had discovered that the way of clemency was the shortest road to conquest" (_com. and prot._ i, ; cp. p. ). the laudation here too is characteristic; but it disposes of carlyle's. carlyle would never be at pains enough to check his presuppositions by the records. as gardiner tells (p. , _note_), he denounces an editor for printing a postscript in which cromwell admitted the slaughter of "many inhabitants" of drogheda. this, said carlyle, had no authority in contemporary copies. "it appears," writes dr. gardiner, "in the _official_ contemporary copy in _letters from ireland_." what is more, the editor in question had given the reference! there are men who to-day will still applaud cromwell because he quenched the irish trouble for the time in massacre and devastation; and others, blenching at the atrocity of the cure, speak of it with bated breath as doing him discredit, while they bate nothing of their censure of the arbitrariness of charles. others excuse all puritan tyranny because of its "sincerity," as if that plea would not exculpate torquemada and alva. the plain truth is that cromwell in no way rose above the moral standards of his generation in his dealings with those whom he was able to oppress. he found in his creed his absolution for every step to which blind instinct led him, in ireland as in england; and it seems to be his destiny to lead his admirers into the same sophistries--pious with a difference--as served to keep him on good terms with his conscience after suppressing an english parliament or slaughtering an irish garrison. take, for instance, the fashion in which d'aubigné shuffles over the irish massacres, after quoting cromwell's worst cant on the subject: "this extract will suffice. cromwell acted in ireland like a great statesman, and the means he employed were those best calculated promptly to restore order in that unhappy country. and yet we cannot avoid regretting that a man--a christian man--should have been called to wage so terrible a war, and to show towards his enemies _greater severity than had ever, perhaps, been exercised by the pagan leaders of antiquity_. 'blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of god'" (_the protector_, rd ed. p. ). it is too much even to say, as a more scrupulous critic has done, that the phenomenon of the commonwealth represented a great attempt at a higher life on the part of men nobler and wiser than their contemporaries.[ ] it was simply the self-assertion of energetic men of whom some were in some respects ahead of their time; while the others were as bad as their time, and in some respects rather behind it--men bewildered by fanaticism, and incapable of a consistent ethic, whose failure was due as distinctly to their own intellectual vices as to their environment. no serious poetry of any age is more devoid of moral principle than the verses in which marvell and waller exult over the wanton attack on spain, and kindle at the prospect of a future of unscrupulous conquest. both men were religious; both as ready to sing of "divine love" as of human hate; and both in their degree were good types of the supporters of cromwell. the leaders from the very outset are visibly normal agitators, full of their own grievances, and as devoid of the spirit of fellow-feeling, of concern for all-round righteousness, as any of the men they impeached. their movement went so far as it did because, firstly, they were vigorous men resisting a weak man, and later their own natural progress to anarchy was checked by the self-assertion of the strongest of them all. thus their and his service to progressive political science is purely negative. they showed once for all that an ignorance guided by religious zeal and "inspiration" is more surely doomed to disaster than the ignorance of mere primary animal instinct; and that of the many forms of political optimism, that of christian pietism is for the modern world certainly not the least pernicious. the puritan name and ideal are in these days commonly associated with high principle and conscientiousness; and it is true that in the temper and the tactic of the early revolutionary movement, despite much dark fanaticism, there was a certain masculine simplicity and sincerity not often matched in our politics since. but as the years went on, principles gave way, dragged down by fanaticism and egoism; and the puritan temper, lacking light, bred deadly miasmas. milton himself sinks from the level of the _areopagitica_ to that of the _eikonoklastes_, an ignoble performance at the behest of the government, who just then were suppressing the freedom of the press.[ ] in strict historical truth the puritan name and the ideal must stand for utter failure to carry on a free polity, in virtue of incapacity for rational association; for the stifling of some of the most precious forces of civilisation--the artistic; and further for the grafting on normal self-seeking of the newer and subtler sin of solemn hypocrisy. this holds good of the puritan party as a whole. it is possible, however, to take too low a view of the judgment of any given section of it. dr. gardiner, for instance, somewhat strains the case when he says (_student's history_, p. ) of the barebone parliament: "unfortunately, these godly men [so styled by cromwell] were the most crotchety and impracticable set ever brought together. the majority wanted to abolish the court of chancery without providing a substitute, _and to abolish tithes without providing any other means for the support of the clergy_." it seems clear that it was the intention of the majority to provide an equivalent for the tithes (see vaughan, pp. , ; cp. hallam, ii, , ); and the remark as to the court of chancery appears to miss the point. the case against that court was that it engrossed almost all suits, and yet intolerably delayed them; the proposal was to let the other courts do the work. cp. dr. gardiner's _commonwealth and protectorate_, ii, , ; and as to the tithes, i, ; ii, , , , . it would be hard to show that either cromwell or the men he used and overrode were, under trial, more conscientious than the average public men of later times. well-meaning he and many of them were; but, then, most men are well-meaning up to their lights; the moral test for all is consistency with professed principle under changing conditions. and hardly one was stedfastly true to the principles he put forward. they prevaricated under pressure--under harder pressure, no doubt--like other politicians, with only the difference that they could cite random texts and "the lord" in their justification. and inasmuch as their godly strifes were as blind and as insoluble as those of any factions in history, they furnished no aid and no encouragement to posterity to attempt anew the great work of social regeneration. if that is ever to be done, it must be with saner inspiration and better light than theirs. it is time that, instead of extolling them as men of superior moral stature and inspiration, we now realise they brought to a bewildering problem a vain enlightenment. on this view, it may be noted, we have a sufficient explanation of the dissimulations of which cromwell was undoubtedly guilty. between the antiquated asperity of villemain, who, while extolling his capacity, charges him with _fourberie habituelle_ (_hist. de cromwell_, e édit. p. ), and the foregone condonations of carlyle, there is a mean of common sense. cromwell was a man of immense energy and practical capacity, but with no gift for abstract thought, and spellbound by an incoherent creed. consequently he was bound to come to serious confusion when he had to deal with tense complexities of conduct and violently competing interests. coming into desperate positions, for which his religion was worse than no preparation, and in which it could not possibly guide him aright, he must needs trip over the snares of diplomacy, and do his equivocations worse than a more intellectual man would. cromwell's lying sounds the more offensive because of its constant twang of pietism; but that was simply the dialect in which he had been brought up. had he lived in our day he would have been able to prevaricate with a wider vocabulary, which makes a great difference. § lest such a criticism should be suspected of prejudice, it may be well to note that a contemporary doctor of divinity has at some points exceeded it. it is dr. cunningham who argues that, in consequence of the puritan bias leading to a cult of the old testament rather than the new, there occurred under puritan auspices "a retrogression to a lower type of social morality, which showed itself both at home and abroad."[ ] he traces puritan influence specially "(_a_) in degrading the condition of the labourer; (_b_) in reckless treatment of the native [= coloured] races; (_c_) in the development of the worst forms of slavery."[ ] the present writer, who rarely finds it necessary to oppose a protestant clergyman on such an issue, is disposed to think the charge overdrawn, for the following reasons: ( ) the english treatment of ireland was to the full as cruel in the elizabethan period, before puritanism had gone far, as under cromwell; ( ) the catholic spaniards in mexico and peru were as cruel as the puritan colonists in new england. it is true that "in all the terrible story of the dealings of the white man with the savage there are few more miserable instances of cold-blooded cruelty than the wholesale destruction of the pequod nation--men, women, and children--by the puritan settlers"[ ] of connecticut. but when catholics and pre-puritan protestants and dutch protestants act similarly, the case is not to be explained on dr. cunningham's theory. the fallacy seems to lie in supposing that the new testament has ever been a determinant in these matters. mosheim confesses that in the wars of the crusades the christians were more ferocious than the saracens;[ ] and seneca was at least as humane as paul. there is distinct validity, on the other hand, in the charge that puritanism worsened the life of the working classes, first by taking away their ecclesiastical holidays and gild-festivals, and finally by taking all recreation out of their sunday. the latter step may be regarded as the assertion of the economic interest of the protestant clergy against the social needs of their flocks. it was not that the labourers were well off before the rebellion--here again we must guard against false impressions[ ]--but that "puritan ascendancy rendered the lot of the labourer hopelessly dull."[ ] there is reason to believe, further, that the stuart administration, applying the elizabethan poor law, took considerable pains to relieve distress,[ ] and that the commonwealth, on the contrary, treated the lapsed mass without sympathy;[ ] and it is not unlikely that, as has been suggested, this had something to do with the popular welcome given to the restoration.[ ] the conclusion is that "neither the personal character nor the political success of the puritans need lead us to ignore their baleful influence on society,"[ ] which was, in the opinion of arnold, despite his passion for their favourite literature, to imprison and turn the key upon the english spirit for two hundred years. here again the impartial naturalist will detect exaggeration, but much less than in the current hyperboles to the contrary. for the rest, the commercial and industrial drift of england, the resort to the mineral wealth[ ] that was to be the economic basis of later commerce and empire, the pursuit of capitalistic manufacture, the building up of a class living on interest as the privileged class of the past had lived on land monopoly--all went on under puritanism as under catholicism,[ ] anglicanism, calvinism, lutheranism. the early puritans, taking up the catholic tradition, denounced usury; but the clergy of industrial and burgher-ruled states, beginning with calvin, perforce receded from that veto.[ ] even under elizabeth there was a good deal of banking,[ ] and under cromwell english merchants and money-dealers had learned all the lessons the dutch could teach them, weighing the protector's borrowing credit in the scales of the market as they would any other. the spirit of pitiless commercial competition flourished alike under roundhead and cavalier,[ ] save in so far as it was manacled by invidious monopolies; the lust of "empire" was as keen among the middle class in cromwell's day as in elizabeth's and our own; and even the lot of the workers began to approximate to its modern aspect through the greater facility of transfer[ ] which followed on the old rigidity of feudal law and medieval usage. the industrial age was coming to birth. footnotes: [footnote : even on this side the king was not fortunate. it would perhaps do him little harm that "he spoke and behaved with indelicacy to ladies in public" (hallam, citing milton's _defensio_ and warburton's _notes on clarendon_, vii. ); but his frigidity and haughtiness were more serious matters. he actually caned vane for entering a room in the palace reserved for persons of higher rank (_id._, citing carte's _ormond_, i, ). in the next reign people contrasted his aloofness with his son's accessibility (see _pepys' diary_, _passim_). hallam sums up that "he had in truth none who loved him, till his misfortunes softened his temper, and excited sympathy" ( th ed. ii, ).] [footnote : that is, in england. in scotland they did. it is quite clear that the scotch disaffection dated from charles's proposal and attempt, at the very outset of his reign, to recover the tithes that had been appropriated by the nobility. (compare burton, _history of scotland_, v, ; vi. , , - , , ; burnet, _own time_, bk. i, ed. , p. ; gardiner, _history of england, - _, vii, ; laing, _history of scotland_, nd ed. iii, ; sir james balfour, _annals of the stuart kings_, ii, ; sir roger manley, _history of the rebellions_, . p. .) this scheme, though dropped, was naturally never renounced in the king's counsels; and the church riots of , which are specially embalmed in the egregious myth of jenny geddes, are explicitly recorded to have been planned by outsiders. see guthry's _memoirs_, nd ed. , p. . burton (vi, ) rejects this testimony on astonishingly fallacious grounds. of course, the resentment of english interference with scotch affairs counted for a great deal.] [footnote : it is to be remembered, as explaining charles's sacrifice of strafford, that the latter was generally detested even at court (hallam, ii, - ). and at the outset the general hatred of the nobility to laud was the great cause of charles's weakness (_id._ ii, ). in france, soon afterwards, the aristocratic hatred to mazarin set up the civil war of the fronde.] [footnote : hallam, _const. hist._ ii, .] [footnote : _id._ ii, - .] [footnote : _id._ p. . cp. p. .] [footnote : as to which see hallam, ii, - .] [footnote : cunningham, _english industry and commerce_, ii, .] [footnote : hallam makes an excellent generalisation of charles's two contrasted characteristics of obstinacy and pliability. "he was tenacious of ends, and irresolute as to means; better fitted to reason than to act; never swerving from a few main principles, but diffident of his own judgment in its application to the course of affairs" (as cited, ii, ). he had cause to be so diffident. hallam more than once observes how bad his judgment generally was.] [footnote : it is an error to assert, as is often done, that before carlyle's panegyric the normal english estimate of cromwell was utterly hostile. burnet, and even clarendon and hume, mixed high praise with their blame; and macaulay was eloquently panegyrical long before carlyle. the subject is discussed in the author's article on "cromwell and the historians" in _essays in sociology_, vol. .] [footnote : it is to be noted that while he was trampling down all the constitutional safeguards for which he had professed to fight, he kept the english universities on relatively as sound a footing as the army. he thus wrought for the advance of reason in the next generation. but he had his share in the puritan work of destroying the artistic taste and practice of the nation.] [footnote : he had, indeed, proposed to the dutch a joint campaign for the conquest of spanish america (gardiner, _history of the commonwealth_, ii, ). but even in that case he would have counted on plunder.] [footnote : villemain, however, had previously made some approach to such a view; and sir john seeley has left record of how sir james stephen suggested to students a research concerning "the buccaneering cromwell" (_expansion of england_, p. ).] [footnote : _cromwell's place in history_, pp. , .] [footnote : gardiner, _history of the commonwealth and protectorate_ ( ), ii, - . it is startling to contrast this explicit avowal of dr. gardiner with the assertion of dr. holland rose (art. in the _monthly review_, july, ), that the historian averred to him that english foreign policy _always_ came out well on investigation.] [footnote : _cromwell's place in history_, p. . cp. p. ; burnet, _history of his own time_, bk. i, ed. , pp. , , ; thurloe, _state papers_, , vii, .] [footnote : letter of de bordeaux to servien, may , , given by guizot, _histoire de la république d'angleterre et de cromwell_, tom. i, _end_.] [footnote : letter cited.] [footnote : guizot, _république d'angleterre_, éd. , ii, .] [footnote : _on a war with spain._ cp. the poem, _upon the death of the lord protector_.] [footnote : _horatian ode upon cromwell's return from ireland._ dryden's _heroic stanzas_ on the death of the protector show how he would have swelled the acclaim.] [footnote : a similar idea, i find, is well expressed by seeley, _expansion of england_, p. .] [footnote : as to the element of historic "accident," cp. mm. langlois and seignobos, _introduction aux études historiques_, e éd. p. .] [footnote : hallam, discriminating the shades of opinion, lays it down that "a favourer of unlimited monarchy was not a tory, neither was a republican a whig. lord clarendon was a tory: hobbes was not; bishop hoadly was a whig: milton was not" (_history_, as cited, iii, ). but though hobbes's political doctrine was odious to the tory clergy, and even to legitimists as such, it certainly made for toryism in practice. in the words of green: "if hobbes destroyed the old ground of royal despotism, he laid a new and a firmer one." cp. t. whittaker, in _social england_, iv, , , as to the conflict between "divine right" royalism and hobbes's principle of an absolute sovereignty set up by social consent to begin with.] [footnote : as to the "high pretensions to religion, combined with an almost unlimited rapacity" (petty) on the part of many leading puritans, cp. gardiner, _commonwealth and protectorate_, ii, , , , , , , etc.] [footnote : in the essay on "hallam's _constitutional history_" ( ). in the _history_ the verdict is more favourable.] [footnote : _lives of the friends of the lord chancellor clarendon_, by lady t. lewis, i, ; cited in _falklands_, by t.l. (author of _life of sir kenelm digby_), , pp. - .] [footnote : on the general question of his course see the defence of t.l. (work cited, p. _sq._), and that by mr. j.a. r. marriott, _life and times of viscount falkland_, nd. ed. , p. _sq._] [footnote : as against from to "neuters" and royalists, and lawyers or officers (hallam, ii, , _note_, citing the clarendon papers, iii, ).] [footnote : republicans there still were in the reigns of william and anne (see hallam, iii, , ; cp. the author's essay on "fletcher of saltoun" in _our corner_, jan., ), but they never acted openly as such.] [footnote : see below, ch. iii, § .] [footnote : _e.g._, richard overton's pamphlet ( ) entitled _an arrow against all tyrants and tyranny, wherein the original, rise, extent, and end of magisterial power, the natural and national rights, freedoms, and properties of mankind, are discovered and undeniably maintained_. its main doctrines are that "to every individual in nature is given an individual property by nature, not to be invaded or usurped by any"; and that "no man hath power over my rights and liberties, and i over no man's." see a long and interesting extract in the _history of passive obedience since the reformation_, amsterdam, , i, . as to the other anarchists, of whom lilburne was not one, see gardiner, _history of the commonwealth_, i, , .] [footnote : cp. gardiner, _cromwell's place in history_, pp. - ; _history of the great civil war_, , ii, - , - ; iii, . while grudgingly noting his straightforwardness, dr. gardiner assumes to discredit lilburne as impracticable, yet is all the while demonstrating that cromwell's constructive work utterly collapsed. lilburne explicitly and accurately predicted that the tyrannies of the new _régime_ would bring about the restoration (guizot, _histoire de la république d'angleterre et de cromwell_, ed. bruxelles, , i, ).] [footnote : dr. gardiner says he was not, but does not explain away cromwell's acquiescence. as to the war-spirit in england, see van kampen, _geschichte der niederlande_, ii, , .] [footnote : guizot, _histoire de la république d'angleterre et de cromwell_, ed. bruxelles, , i, - ; van kampen, _geschichte der niederlande_, ii, , ; davies, _history of holland_, , ii, .] [footnote : guizot, as cited, i, .] [footnote : there is a hardly credible story (gardiner, _history of the commonwealth and protectorate_, ii, ) that in supporting owen's scheme for a liberal religious establishment he declared: "i had rather that mahometanism were permitted amongst us than that one of god's children should be persecuted." if the story be true, so much the worse for his treatment of catholics.] [footnote : gardiner, _commonwealth and protectorate_, small ed. iv, . dr. gardiner actually praises cromwell for "good sense" (p. ) in seeing that the general plantation decreed by the declaration of "was absolutely impracticable." it had been his own decree!] [footnote : mr. harrison, as cited, p. . mr. allanson picton, in his lectures on the _rise and fall of the english commonwealth_, has with more pains and circumspection sought to make good a similar judgment. but the nature of his performance is tested by his contending on the one hand that the ideal of the commonwealth was altogether premature, and on the other that cromwell governed with the real consent of the nation.] [footnote : gardiner, _commonwealth and protectorate_, i, - ; cp. whittaker, in _social england_, iv, , .] [footnote : _growth of english industry and commerce_, i, .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. , , citing bancroft, i, , . seeley ignored these and many other matters when he pronounced that the annals of greater britain are "conspicuously better than those of greater spain, which are infinitely more stained with cruelty and rapacity." in the usual english fashion, he left out of account, too, the horrors of the english conquests of ireland.] [footnote : _ecclesiastical history_, cent., pt. i, ch. ii, § .] [footnote : see rogers, _industrial and commercial history_, p. , as to the distress about .] [footnote : cunningham, as cited, p. .] [footnote : redlich and hirst, _local government in england_, , ii, ; and miss leonard's _early history of english poor relief_, as there cited.] [footnote : see child's testimony, cited below, p. . that, however, specifies no superiority in the methods of the monarchy.] [footnote : redlich and hirst, as cited, ii, , _note_.] [footnote : cunningham, p. .] [footnote : see rogers, _industrial and commercial history_, p. , as to the iron trade.] [footnote : as to usury in the reign of henry vii see busch, _england unter den tudors_, i, , . on the general canonist teaching there is a very thorough research in prof. ashley's _introduction to economic history_, vol. ii, ch. vi.] [footnote : cunningham, _growth of english industry and commerce_, vol. ii (_modern times_), pp. - .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : _id._ pp. , , .] [footnote : cunningham, _op. cit._ p. . as to the upset of gild monopolies in the sixteenth century, see p. .] chapter iii from the restoration to anne § the broad outcome of the monarchic restoration under charles ii is the intensifying of the royalist sentiment by way of reaction from the rebellion and the autocracy of the protector. it has been held that had richard cromwell had the energy of his father he might easily have maintained his position, so quietly was his accession at first accepted; and no doubt his irresolution made much of the difference between success and failure; but nothing can be clearer than the leaning of the mass of the people to the "lawful" dynasty. it is a proof of cromwell's complete dislocation of the old state of touch between the official classes and the public,[ ] that the army leaders had no misgivings when they commenced to intrigue against richard, and that monk was so slow to declare for the king when the event showed how immense was the royalist preponderance. during the rebellion, london, led by the puritans, had dominated the country; under the protectorate, town and country were alike dominated by a selected official and military class, representing a minority with military force to impose its rule. as soon as this class began to disrupt in factions, the released play of common sentiment began to carry all forward on a broad tide towards a restoration; the only footing on which the english people could yet unite being one of tradition and superstition. the anarchy of a state still unfitted for republican government had before brought about the protectorate: it now led back to the monarchy. and that the new monarchy did not become as absolute as the contemporary rule of louis xiv was solely owing to the accident of the later adhesion of the restored dynasty to the church of rome, which the mass of the people feared more than they did even the prospect of another civil war. it was the memory of the fronde that enabled louis to override the remains of the french constitution and set up an autocracy; and the same force was now at work in england. it was the memory of the civil war that made the people so much more forbearing with the new king, when his private adhesion to the catholic church became generally suspected,[ ] than their fathers had been with his father. by temperament and from experience they were disposed to do anything for the throne; but the general fear of popery on the one hand, and the special royalist aversion to the puritan sects on the other, plunged the state into a new ferment of ecclesiastical politics, the strifes of which so far absorbed the general energy that ill-luck in the commercial wars with holland seems to have been almost a necessary result, even had the king ruled well. not that the generation of charles ii was a whit less bent on dominion and acquisition than the decade of the protectorate. in this new situation, under a king too little devoted to his trade to choose really sagacious courses, but too shrewd to ruin himself, occur the beginnings of parliamentary statesmanship, in the modern sense of government in harmony with the crown. the powerful administration of strafford had been a matter of helping the crown to resist parliament. the very capable though unforeseeing statesmanship of the pyms and hampdens of the long parliament, again, was a matter of resisting the crown; and with shaftesbury such resistance recurred; but the indolence of the king, joined with his sense of the dangers of the old favouritism, gave rise to the principle of ministerial government before partisan cabinets had come into existence. clarendon had in him much of the constitutionalist temper. shaftesbury, however, was better qualified both by training and parts for the task of statesmanship in a stormy and unscrupulous generation. read dispassionately, his story is seen to be in the main what his careful vindicator would make it--that of a man of average moral quality, with exceptional energy and resource. the legend of his wickedness[ ] is somewhat puzzling, in view of his staunch hostility to romanism, and of his political superiority to the famous deist statesman of the next generation, bolingbroke, who has been so little blackened in comparison. a reasonable explanation is that shaftesbury was damned by the church for resisting the king, while bolingbroke's services to the church covered his multitude of sins. but the idle rumours of shaftesbury's debauchery[ ] apparently damaged him with the protestant dissenters, and his wickedly reckless policy over the popish plot might easily secure him a share in the infamy which is the sole association of the name of titus oates. here also, however, he has been calumniated. burnet, though plainly disliking him, says nothing of debauchery in his life, and declined to believe, when charles suggested it, that he had any part in trumping up the falsehoods about the plot.[ ] there can be no reasonable doubt that shaftesbury honestly believed there was a great danger of the re-establishment of popery, and it is not at all improbable that he credited some of the tales told, as lord russell solemnly testified at the scaffold that he for his part had done. to acquit russell and criminate shaftesbury is possible only to those who have made up their minds before trying the case. it is practically certain, moreover, that some vague catholic plotting really did take place;[ ] and in the then posture of affairs nothing was more likely. shaftesbury, like the other capable statesmen of the restoration, was in favour of toleration of the dissenters; but like all other protestant statesmen of the age, he thought it impossible to tolerate catholicism. nor can it well be doubted that had charles or james been able to establish the roman system, it would have gone hard with protestantism. it is true that the only exhibition thus far of the spirit of tolerance in protestant and catholic affairs in france and england had been on the part of richelieu towards the huguenots, themselves intensely intolerant; but it could not reasonably be supposed that an english catholic king or statesman, once well fixed in power, would have the wisdom or forbearance of richelieu. the two systems, in fine, aimed at each other's annihilation; and shaftesbury simply acted, politically that is, as the men of the first rebellion would have done in similar circumstances. instead of dismissing him as a mere scoundrel, we are led to realise how imperfectly moralised were all the men of his age in matters of religion and racial enmity. the friend of locke can hardly have been a rascal. for the rest, he was admitted even by the malicious and declamatory dryden to have been a just chancellor; it is proved that he opposed the stop of the exchequer; and he sharply resisted the rapacity of the royal concubines. in his earlier policy towards holland he conformed odiously enough to the ordinary moral standard of the time[ ] in politics, a standard little improved upon in the time of palmerston, and not discarded by those englishmen who continue to talk of russia as england's natural enemy, or by those who speak of germany as a trade rival that must be fought to a finish. his changes of side between the outbreak of the rebellion and his death, while showing the moral and intellectual instability of the period, were not dishonourable, and are not for a moment to be compared with those of dryden, most unstable of all men of genius, whose unscrupulous but admirably artistic portrait of the statesman has doubtless gone far to keep shaftesbury's name in disesteem. it may be, again, that his sufficient wealth takes away somewhat from the merit of his steadfast refusal of french bribes; but the fact should be kept in mind,[ ] as against the other fact that not only the king and some of the opposition but algernon sidney took them.[ ] on the whole, shaftesbury was the most tolerable of the ministers of his day, though his animus against catholicism made him grossly unscrupulous toward individual catholics; and his miscalculation of possibilities, in clinging to the scheme of giving monmouth the succession, finally wrecked his career. he had almost no alternative, placed and principled as he was, save to call in the prince of orange; and this would really have been at that moment no more feasible a course than it was to declare monmouth the heir, besides being more hazardous, in that william was visibly less easy to lead. of shaftesbury, burnet admits that "his strength lay in the knowledge of england"; and when he took a fatal course, it was because the whole situation was desperate. his fall measures not so much the capacity of charles as the force which the royalist superstition had gathered. § this growth can be traced in the clerical literature of the time. the conception of a "divine right" inhering in kings by heredity--a conception arising naturally as part of the general ethic of feudal inheritance--had been emphasised on the protestant side in england[ ] by way of express resistance to the papacy, which from the time of gregory vii had been wont in its strifes with emperors and kings to deny their divine right and to assert its own, formally founding the latter, however, on the "natural" right inherent in masses of men to choose their own rulers, even as the citizens of rome had been wont to elect the popes.[ ] the total effect of the english rebellion was to give an immense stimulus to the high monarchic view, not now as against the papacy, but as against parliament. when the learned usher drew up at the request of charles i his treatise[ ] on _the power communicated by god to the prince, and the obedience required of the subject_, he proceeded almost wholly on arguments from the scriptures and the fathers; not that there were not already many deliverances from modern authorities on the point, but that these evidently had not entered into the ordinary stock of opinion. on the papal side, from thomas aquinas[ ] onwards, the negative view had been carefully set forth, not merely as a papal claim, but also as an obvious affirmation of the ancient "law of nature." thus the spanish jesuit suarez ( - ) had in his _tractatus de legibus_, while deriving all law from the will of god, expressly rejected the doctrine that the power of rule inheres by succession in single princes. such power, he declared, "by its very nature, belongs to no one man, but to a multitude of men,"[ ] adding a refutation of the patriarchal theory which "might have caused our english divines to blush before the jesuit of granada."[ ] at the beginning of the seventeenth century, again, while leading englishmen were affirming divine right, the german protestant althusius, professor of law at herborn, publishing his _politica methodice digesta_ ( ), declares in a dedication to the states of friesland that the supreme power lies in the people.[ ] hooker, too, had stamped the principle of "consent" with his authority, very much as did suarez.[ ] but the compiler of _the history of passive obedience since the reformation_,[ ] after showing that the tenet[ ] had been held by dozens of protestant divines and jurists after the reformation, and even strongly affirmed by nonconformists, is able to cite nearly as many assertions of it in the reign of charles ii as in the whole preceding period. the clergy were, indeed, able to show that the principle of non-resistance had been a common doctrine up to the great rebellion; and, though the contrary view was on the whole more common,[ ] it well illustrates the instinctive character of political movement that the democratic doctrine had followed the course of action step by step, and not preceded it. there had been resistance before the right to resist was formulated in the schools. and bishop guthry records that at the general assembly in edinburgh in january, , "everyone had in his hand that book lately published by mr. samuel rutherford, entitled _lex rex_, which was stuffed with positions that in the time of peace and order would have been judged damnable treasons; yet were now so idolised that, whereas in the beginning of the work buchanan's treatise, _de jure regni apud scotos_, was looked upon as an oracle, this coming forth, it was slighted as not anti-monarchical enough, and rutherford's _lex rex_ only thought authentic."[ ] so milton's answer to salmasius, vindicating the right of rebellion as inherent in freemen, marks the high tide of feeling that sustained the foremost regicides. but in the nature of the case the feeling swung as far the other way when they had touched their extreme limit of action; and when the royalist cause came in the ascendant, the monarchical principle was perhaps more passionately cherished in england than in any of the other european states.[ ] how it normally worked may be seen in dryden's sycophantic dedication[ ] of his _all for love_ to lord danby ( ), sinking as it does to the extravagant baseness of the declaration that "every remonstrance of private men has the seed of treason in it." it was in this very year that charles and danby made the secret treaty with france, the revelation of which by louis soon afterwards brought danby to the tower; and danby it was who three years before carried through the house of lords a bill to make all placemen declare on oath that they considered all resistance to the king unlawful. the handful of remaining republicans and political liberals, appealing as they did to tradition in their treatises against the traditional pleadings of the churchmen and royalists, could have no appreciable influence on the public, because the mere spirit of tradition, when not appealed to as the sanction of a living movement of resistance, must needs make for passivity. algernon sidney's posthumous folio on government in answer to filmer's _patriarcha_, arguing the question of self-government _versus_ divine right, and going over all the ground from nimrod downwards, point by point, is a far greater performance than filmer's; and locke in turn brought a still greater power of analysis to bear on the same refutation; but it is easy to see that filmer's is the more readable book, and that with its straightforward dogmatism it would most readily convince the average englishman. nor was the philosophy all on one side, though filmer has ten absurdities for the other's one, and was so unguarded as to commit himself to the doctrine that the possession of power gives divine right, no matter how come by. sidney himself always argued that "vertue" entitled men to superior power; and though he might in practice have contended that the choice of the virtuous should be made by the people, his proposition pointed rather plainly back to cromwell, acclaimed by milton as the worthiest to bear rule. and to be governed by a military autocrat, however virtuous and capable, was as little to the taste of that generation as it was to the taste of carlyle's. even a clergyman could see that the political problem was really one of the practical adjustment of crude conflicting interests, and that there could easily be as much friction under a virtuous monarch as under a dissolute one. the conscientiousness of the first charles had wrought ruin, where the vicious indolence of the second steered safely. as filmer and sidney, besides, really agreed in awarding "the tools to him who could handle them," and as the most pressing practical need was to avoid civil war, the solution for most people was the more clearly a "loyal" submission to the reigning house; and no amount of abstract demonstration of the right of self-government could have hindered the habit of submission from eating deeper and deeper into the national character if it were not for the convulsion which changed the dynasty and set up a deep division of "loyalties," keeping each other in check. in the strict sense of the term there was no class strife, no democratic movement, no democratic interest; indeed, no ideal of public interest as the greatest good of the whole. thus harrington's _oceana_, with its scheme of "an equal commonwealth, a government established upon an equal agrarian, arising into the superstructures of three orders, the senat debating and proposing, the people resolving, and the magistracy executing by an equal rotation through the suffrage of the people given by the ballot"[ ]--this conception, later pronounced by hume "the only valuable model of a commonwealth that has yet been offered to the public,"[ ] although the same critic exposed its weakness--was in fact as wholly beside the case as the principle of the second coming. no man desired the proposed ideal; and the very irrelevance of the systematic treatises strengthened the case for use and wont. the political discussions, being thus mostly in the air, could serve only to prepare leading men to act on certain principles should events forcibly lead up to new action. but the existing restraints on freedom did not supply sufficient grievance to breed action. the dissenters themselves were almost entirely resigned to their ostracism; and the preponderance of the church and the tory party was complete. luckily the political fanaticism of charles i reappeared in his son james; and that king's determination to re-establish in his realm the church of his devotion served to break a spell that nothing else could have shattered.[ ] the very church which had been assuring him of his irresistibility, having to choose between its own continuance and his, had perforce to desert him; and the old panic fear of popery, fed by the spectacle of jeffreys' bloody assize, swept away the monarch who had aroused it. he would have been an energetic king; his naval memoirs exhibit zeal and application to work; and he had so much of rational humanity in him that in scotland he pointed out to the popes of presbyterianism how irrational as well as merciless was their treatment of sexual frailty. but his own fanaticism carried him athwart the superstition which would have sufficed to make him a secure despot in all other matters; and when the spirit of freedom seemed dying out in all forms save that of sectarian zealotry, his assault on that brought about the convulsion which gave it fresh chances of life. § while practical politics was thus becoming more and more of a stupid war of ecclesiastical prejudices, in which the shiftiest came best off, and even theoretic politics ran to a vain disputation on the purposes of god towards adam, some of the best intelligence of the nation, happily, was at work on more fruitful lines. the dire results of the principles which had made for union and strife of late years, drove thoughtful men back on a ground of union which did not seem to breed a correlative malignity.[ ] it was in , the year of the restoration, that the royal society was constituted; but its real beginnings lay in the first years of peace under cromwell, when, as sprat records, a "candid, unpassionate company" began to meet at oxford in the lodgings of dr. wilkins, of wadham college,[ ] to discuss questions of natural fact. "the university had, at the time, many members of its own, who had begun a free way of reasoning; and was also frequented by some gentlemen, of philosophical minds, whom the misfortunes of the kingdom, and the security and ease of a retirement amongst gowns-men, had drawn thither."[ ] in constituting the society, the associates "freely admitted men of different religions, countries, and professions of life," taking credit to themselves for admitting an intellectual shopkeeper, though "the far greater number are gentlemen, free, and unconfined."[ ] above all things they shunned sectarian and party feeling. "their first purpose was no more then onely the satisfaction of breathing a freer air, and of conversing in quiet one with another, without being ingag'd in the passions and madness of that dismal age;"[ ] and when they formally incorporated themselves it was expressly to discuss "things and not words." it is noteworthy that the french academy, which gave the immediate suggestion for the constitution of the english royal society, contained almost no authors save belletrists and ecclesiastics. in the list of members down to (_relation_ cited, p. ), i find no writer on science save de la chambre, the king's physician. and the first important undertaking of the academy (projected about ) was a _dictionary_. sprat (p. ) suggests that the royal society has usefully influenced the academy in the direction of the study of things rather than words. (compare the avowed literary ideal of the authors of the _relation_, p. .) but although the french group from the first tended mainly to literary pursuits, they too aimed at a "free way of reasoning," "et de ce premier âge de l'académie, ils en parlent comme d'un âge d'or, durant lequel avec toute l'innocence et toute la _liberté_ des premiers siècles, sans bruit, et sans pompe, et sans autres loix que celles de l'amitié, ils goûtoient ensemble tout ce que la société des esprits, et la vie raisonnable, ont de plus doux et de plus charmant" (_relation_, p. ). and even while sprat was writing, the french were making up their scientific leeway. in - there was published in english a translation of _a general collection of discourses of the virtuosi of france upon questions of all sorts of philosophy and other_ (sic) _natural knowledge made in the assembly of the_ beaux esprits _at_ paris, _by the most ingenious persons of that nation_ ( vols. sm. folio), wherein, though the scientific discussions are distinctly amateurish, there are many speculations likely to stimulate both french and english experiment. there is indeed little to choose in point of solidity between the early themes of the english royal society and those of the french academy. on the other hand, the french government specially promoted exact study. in colbert established the _académie royale des sciences_, for the promotion of geometry, astronomy, physics, and chemistry, building a laboratory and an observatory, and inviting to france cassini and huygens (life of colbert by bernard, in ed. of colbert's _last testament_, ). colbert further founded the _académie royale d'architecture_ in ; and had set up what came to be the _académie des inscriptions_ in his own house. all three bodies did excellent work. (see the acknowledgment, as regards science, in lawrence's _lectures on comparative anatomy_, etc., , p. .) in france, besides, the philosophy and science of descartes made way from the first, and it was his works that first gave locke "a relish for philosophical things." on the other hand, sprat, who was not without an eye to literature, and made a reputation by his style, acutely notes (p. ) that "in the wars themselves (which is a time wherein all languages use, if ever, to increase by extraordinary degrees, for in such busie and active times there arise more new thoughts of some men, which must be signifi'd and varied by new expressions)" the english speech "received many fantastical terms ... and with all it was enlarg'd by many sound and necessary forms and idioms which it before wanted"; and he proposes an authoritative dictionary on the lines of the french project. the english naturalists would have nothing to do with theology, "these two subjects, god and the soul, being only forborn."[ ] reasoning from the development of military faculty in the civil war, they decided that "greater things are produced by the free way than the formal"[ ]--a principle already put forth by renaudot, in the preface to the reports of the french academy, as the guide of their procedure. by attending solely to results and questions of concrete fact, the inquirers were "not only free from faction, but from the very causes and beginnings of it";[ ] and in the language of the time they held that "by this means there was a race of young men provided against the next age, whose minds receiving from them their just impressions of sober and generous knowledge, were invincibly arm'd against all the inchantments of enthusiasm"[ ]--that is, of religious fanaticism. and with this recoil from fanaticism there went the stirring and energetic curiosity of people habituated to action by years of war, and needing some new excitement to replace the old. while many turned to debauchery, others took to "experiment."[ ] says sprat:-- "the late times of civil war and confusion, to make some recompense for their infinite calamities, brought this advantage with them, that they stirr'd up men's minds from long ease and a lazy rest, and made them active, industrious, and inquisitive: it being the usual benefit that follows upon tempests and thunders in the state, as well as in the skie, that they purifie and cleer the air which they disturb. but now, since the king's return, the blindness of the former age and the miseries of this last are vanish'd away: now men are generally weary of the relicks of antiquity, and satiated with religious disputes; now not only the eyes of men but their hands are open, and prepar'd to labour; now there is a universal desire and appetite after knowledge, after the peaceable, the fruitful, nourishing knowledge; and not after that of antient sects, which only yielded hard indigestible arguments, or sharp contentions, instead of food: which when the minds of men requir'd bread, gave them only a stone, and for fish a serpent."[ ] here too, then, there was reaction. it could not suffice to lift the plane of national life, which was determined by the general conditions and the general culture; nor did it alter the predominance of _belles lettres_ in the reading of the educated; but it served to sow in that life the seed of science, destined to work through the centuries a gradual transformation of activity and thought which should make impossible the old political strifes and generate new. out of experiment came invention, machinery, theory, new scepticism, rationalism, democracy. it is difficult to measure, but not easy to over-estimate, the gain to intellectual life from even a partial discrediting of the old preoccupation with theology, which in the centuries between luther and spinoza stood for an "expense of spirit" that is depressing to think of. down even to our own day, the waste of labour and learning continues; but from the time when two-thirds of europe had been agonised by wars set up or stimulated by theological disputes, the balance begins to lean towards saner things. the second generation after that in which there arose a "free way of reasoning"[ ] saw the beginnings of "freethinking" in those religious problems which were for the present laid aside, and the foundation of a new experiential philosophy. new and great reactions against these were to come; reactions of endowed clericalism, of popular sloth, of new "enthusiasm" generated in new undergrowths of ignorance, of recoil from terrific democratic revolution. but the new principle was to persist. § it is not easy, at this time of day, to accept as a scientific product the confused theory of constitutionalism which gradually grew up in english politics from william the third onwards. the theory in all its forms is in logic so invertebrate, and in morals so far from satisfying any fairly developed sense of political justice, that we are apt to dismiss it in derision. in so far, indeed, as it proceeds on a formulation of the "social contract" it is always severely handled by the school of sir henry maine, which here represents the anxiety of the upper classes since the french revolution to find some semblance of rational answer to the moral plea that all men are entitled to political enfranchisement and social help on the simple ground of reciprocity, supposed to be canonised for christians in the "golden rule." locke, of course, was not thinking of the working mass when he wrote his letters on government, any more than when he helped to draw up a constitution for south carolina endorsing slavery.[ ] but he was at least much nearer rational morals than were his antagonists; the provisions for liberty of conscience in the south carolina constitution are notably far in advance of any official view ever previously promulgated; and in subsuming the "social contract" he was but following hooker and milton, and indeed adapting aristotle, an authority whom locke's later critics are wont to magnify. sir frederick pollock, in his _introduction to the history of the science of politics_ (p. ), assumes to have saved aristotle from the criticism which assails the "social contract" theory, by saying that aristotle regards a "clanless and masterless man" as a monster or an impossibility, whereas the "theorists of the social contract school" take such a man to be the social unit. there is really no reason to suppose that aristotle would have denied a pre-political state of nomadic barbarism such as is vaguely figured by thucydides (i, ); and as a matter of fact he does expressly posit a process of society-making by compact, first by the utility-seeking combination of families in a village, later by the villages _joining themselves_ into a state, whose express purpose is "good life" (_politics_, i, ii). it does not cancel this to say that aristotle also makes the state "prior" in the rational order to man, for his "prior" (i, ii, - ) is not a historical but a metaphysical or ethical proposition. in the third book, again (c. ), he endorses a proposition of lycophron which virtually affirms the social contract. and just as the school of maine attacks the social contract theory for giving a false view of the origin of society, so did bodin long ago, and at least as cogently, attack aristotle and cicero for defining a state as a society of men assembled to live well and happily. bodin insists (_de la république_, , l. i, c. i, p. ; l. i, c. vi, p. ; l. iv, c. i, _ad init._ p. ) that all states originated in violence, the earliest being found full of slaves. it is true that aristotle at the outset implies that slavery is as old as the family, but he still speaks of states as voluntary combinations for a good end. as to the first kings he is also vague and contradictory, and is criticised by bodin accordingly. aristotle was doubtless adaptable to the monarchic as well as to the democratic creed; but bodin's criticism suggests that in the sixteenth century he was felt to be too favourable to the latter. it may be worth while to remark that the notion of an unsociable "state of nature" prior to a "social contract" was effectively criticised by sir william temple in his _essay upon the origin and nature of government_ ( ). with a really scientific discrimination he points to food conditions as mainly determining gregation or segregation among animals, observing: "nor do i know, if men are like sheep, why they need any government, or, if they are like wolves, how they can suffer it" (_works_, ed. , i, , ). in the next generation, again, the ultra-hobbesian view was keenly attacked and confuted by shaftesbury within a few years of locke's death (_characteristics_, early edd. i, - ; ii, - ). as i have elsewhere pointed out (_buckle and his critics_, p. ), the "contract" theory lent itself equally to whiggism and to high toryism. towards the end of the eighteenth century we find the radical bentham (_fragment on government_, ) deriding it as held by the tory blackstone. but rousseau himself (preface to the _discours sur l'inégalité_) avowedly handled the "state of nature" as an ideal, not as a historical truth; and blackstone did the same. it is therefore only a new species of abstract fallacy, and one for which there is no practical excuse, to argue as does the school of maine (cp. pollock, as cited, pp. , , , etc.) that the theories in question are responsible for the french revolution in general, or the reign of terror in particular. revolutions occur for reasons embodied in states of life: they avail themselves of the theories that lie to hand. the doctrine that "all are born equal" or "free" comes from the institutes of justinian, and is laid down in so many words by bishop sherborne of chichester in , and by the orthodox spanish jesuit suarez early in the seventeenth century (_tractatus de legibus_, l. ii, c. ii, § ). the first-mentioned passage is cited by stubbs, iii, - , and the second by hallam, _literature of europe_, iii, . the derivation was bound to warp the theory; but such as it is, it represents the beginning of a new art, and therefore of a new science, of representative government. a variety of forces combined to prevent anarchy on the one hand, and on the other the fatal consolidation of the monarch's power which took place in france.[ ] the new english king was a protestant, and therefore religiously acceptable to the people; but he was a dutchman, and therefore racially obnoxious; for fierce commercial jealousy had long smouldered between the two peoples, and war had fanned it into flames that had burned wide. further, he was a "latitudinarian" in religious matters, and zealous to appoint latitudinarian bishops; and the retirement from london forced on him by his asthma deepened tenfold the effect of his normal coldness of manner towards all and sundry. in the very church whose cause he had saved, he was unpopular not only with the out-and-out zealots of political divine right, but with the zealous churchmen as such, inasmuch as he favoured the dissenters as far as he dared. so hampered and frustrated was he that it seems as if nothing but his rare genius for fighting a losing battle could have saved him, despite the many reasons the nation had for adhering to him. one of these reasons, which counted for much, was the political effect of a national debt in attaching creditors as determined supporters to the government. the highest sagacity, perhaps, could not have framed a better device than this for establishing a new dynasty; albeit the device was itself made a ground of hostile criticism, and was, of course, resorted to as a financial necessity, or at least as a resource pointed to by dutch example, not as a stroke of statecraft. what prudence and conciliation could do, william sought to do. and yet, with all his sanity and enlightenment, he failed utterly to apply his tolerant principles to that part of his administration which most sorely needed them--the government of ireland. even in england he could not carry tolerance nearly as far as he wished;[ ] but in ireland he was forced to acquiesce in protestant tyranny of the worst description. the bigotry of his high church subjects was too strong for him. on the surrender of the last adherents of james at limerick he concluded a treaty which gave the irish catholics the religious freedom they had had under charles ii when the cromwellian oppression was removed; but the english parliament refused to sanction it, save on the condition that nobody should sit in the irish parliament without first repudiating the catholic doctrines. this was not the first virtual breach of faith by england towards ireland; and it alone might have sufficed to poison union between the two countries; but it was only the first step in a renewal of the atrocious policy of the past.[ ] at the restoration the ex-cromwellian diplomatists had contrived to arrange matters so that the monstrous confiscations made under the commonwealth should be substantially maintained; though the settlement of had been made in entire disregard of the act of oblivion by charles i in ; and though charles ii avowed in the house of lords in that they had "showed much affection to him abroad." so base were the tactics of the protestants that many irish were charged with having forfeited their lands by signing under compulsion the engagement to renounce the house of stuart; while those who had compelled them to the act now held the lands as royalists. but the decisive evil was the base indolence of the king. as halifax said of him, he "would slide from an asking face";[ ] and what clarendon called "that _imbecillitas frontis_ which kept him from denying"[ ] made him solve the intolerable strife of suitors by leaving possession in the main to those who had it. the adventurers and soldiers finally relinquished only one-third of their estates;[ ] and only a few hundreds of favoured irish were restored to their old lands, under burden of compensation to the dispossessed holders.[ ] when the resort of james ii to ireland gave power to the oppressed population, it was a matter of course that reprisals should be attempted. the english historian glibly decides that they should not have been permitted; that the king "ought to have determined that the existing settlement of landed property should be inviolable"; and that "whether, in the great transfer of estates, injustice had or had not been committed, _was immaterial_. that transfer, just or unjust, had taken place so long ago that to reverse it would be to unfix the foundations of society."[ ] thus does the race which claims to be civilised prescribe a course of action for that which it declares to be uncivilised.[ ] it is further suggested that the english interest in the irish parliament would have "willingly" granted james a "very considerable sum" to indemnify the despoiled natives for whom during a quarter of a century it had never moved a finger. there is not the least reason to believe in any such willingness; and it was in the ordinary way of things that the wronged race should not exhibit a moderation and magnanimity of which the wrongers had never for a moment shown themselves capable. the irish parliament of , indeed, took care to indemnify all purchasers and mortgagees, while dispossessing original holders under the cromwellian settlement;[ ] but it passed an act of attainder in the fashion of the age; and when the protestant cause triumphed, the revenge taken was a hundredfold greater than the provocation. it was the legislature, not the crown, that did the work. under the tolerant and statesmanlike king, the irish protestant parliament proceeded to pass law after law making the life of catholics one of cruel humiliation and intolerable wrong. there is nothing in civilised history to compare with the process by which religious and racial hatred in combination once more set the miserable irish nation on the rack. the extreme political insanity of the course taken is doubtless to be attributed to the propagandist madness of james, who had just before sought to give all ireland over to catholicism. fanaticism bred fanaticism. but the fact remains that the protestant fanatics began in the reign of william a labour of hate which, carried on in succeeding reigns, at length made ireland the darkest problem in our politics. hassencamp (pp. , ) insists that the penal laws "were not dictated by any considerations of religion, but were merely the offspring of the spirit of domination," citing for this view burke, _letter to a peer_ (_works_, bohn ed. iii, ), and _letter to sir hercules langrishe_ (_id. ib._ p. ). but this is an attempt to dissociate religion from persecution in the interests of religious credit, and will not bear criticism. burke, in fact, contradicts himself, assigning the religious motive in an earlier page ( ) of the _letter to a peer_, and again in the _letter to langrishe_ (p. ). when the protestants went on heaping injuries on the catholics in the knowledge that the people remained fixed in catholicism, they were only acting as religious persecutors have always done. on burke's and hassencamp's view, persecution could never take place from religious motives at all. no doubt the race feeling was fundamental, but the two barbaric instincts were really combined. cp. macaulay's _history_, ch. vi ( -vol. ed. , i, - ). as regards irish trade, commercial malice had already effected all that religious malice could wish. even in the reign of henry viii a law was passed forbidding the importation of irish wool into england; and in the next century strafford sought further to crush the irish woollen trade altogether in the english interest, throwing the irish back on their linen trade and agriculture, which he encouraged.[ ] strafford's avowed object was the keeping ireland thoroughly subject to the english crown by making the people dependent on england for their chief clothing; and to the same end he proposed to hold for the crown a monopoly of all irish trade in salt.[ ] cromwell, on his part, was sane enough to leave irish shipping on the same footing as english under his navigation act; but in the restoration parliament put ireland on the footing of a foreign state, thus destroying her shipping trade once for all,[ ] and arresting her natural intercourse with the american colonies. in the same year, a check was placed on the english importation of irish fat cattle: two years later, the embargo was laid on lean cattle and dead meat; still later, it was laid on sheep, swine, pork, bacon, mutton, and cheese. in william's reign, new repressions were effected. the veto on wool export having led to woollen manufactures, which were chiefly in the hands of dissenters and catholics,[ ] the irish parliament, consisting of episcopalian landlords, was induced in to put heavy export duties on irish woollens; and this failing of its full purpose, in the following year the english parliament absolutely prohibited all export of manufactured wool from ireland.[ ] to this policy of systematic iniquity the first offset was a measure of protection to the irish linen trade in ; and this benefaction went almost solely into the hands of the scotch settlers in ulster.[ ] even thereafter the linen trade of ireland was so maimed and restricted by english hindrances that it was revived only by continual bounties from to . and this twice restored and subsidised industry, thus expressly struck out of native and put in protestant and alien hands, has been in our own age repeatedly pointed to as a proof of the superiority of the protestant and non-celtic inhabitants over the others in energy and enterprise. as a matter of fact, many of the scots who benefited by the bounties of in ulster had recently immigrated because of the poverty and over-population of their own country, where their energy and enterprise could do nothing. irish energy and enterprise, on the other hand, had been chronically strangled, during two hundred years, by english and protestant hands, with a persevering malice to which there is no parallel in human history; and the process is seen at its worst after the "glorious revolution" of . modern english writers of the conservative school, always eager to asperse ireland, never capable of frankly avowing the english causation of irish backwardness, think it a sufficient exculpation of their ancestors' crimes to say that irishmen have not taken up the old industries since they have been free to do so. thus the late mr. h.d. traill meets irish comment on strafford's treatment of the irish woollen trade by saying that the complainants "in these days prefer other and less worthy industries to those which they have now been free to practise, if they chose, for generations" (_strafford_, , p. ). this is a fair sample of the fashion in which racial and political prejudices prompt men otherwise honourable to devices worthy of baseness. it should be unnecessary to point out, in reply, that when the irish industries had been so long extirpated as to be lost arts, it was simply impossible that they could be successfully restored _in competition_ with the highly developed machine industry of england. other countries set up new industries under high protective duties. this ireland could not do. but the most obvious considerations are missed by malice. the beginnings of modern parliamentary government thus coincide with the recommencement, in the worst spirit, of the principal national crime thus far committed by england; and this not by the choice of, but in despite of, the king, at the hands of the parliament. in the next reign the same sin lies at the same door, the monarch doing nothing. the fact should serve better than any monarchic special pleading to show us that the advance towards freedom is a warfare not merely with despots and despotic institutions, but with the spirit of despotism in the average man; a warfare in which, after a time, the opposing forces are seldom positive right and wrong, but as a rule only comparative right and wrong, evil being slowly eliminated by the alternate play of self-regarding instinct. gross and wilful political evil, we say, was wrought in the first stages of the new progress towards political justice. but that is only another way of saying that even while gross political evil was being wrought, men were on the way towards political justice. a clear perception of the whole process, when men attain to it, will mean that justice is about to be attained. § even while the spirit of religion and the spirit of separateness were working such wrong in ireland, the spirit of separateness was fortunately defeated in scotland, where it had yet burned strongly enough to make perpetual division seem the destiny of the two kingdoms. we learn how much political institutions count for when we realise that in scotland, just before the parliamentary union with england, there was as furious an aversion to all things english as there has ever been shown in france of late years to things german. the leading scots patriots were not only bitterly averse to union, but hotly bent on securing that the line of succession in scotland after anne should not be the same as that in england; this because they held that scottish liberties could never be secure under an english king. the stern fletcher of saltoun, a republican at heart, had to play in part the game of the jacobites, much as he abominated their cause. but both alike were defeated, with better results than could possibly have followed on any separation of the crowns; and the vehement opposition of the great mass of the scots people to the parliamentary union was likewise defeated, in a manner hard to understand. the heat of the popular passion in scotland is shown by the infamously unjust execution of the english captain green and two of his men[ ] on a charge of killing a missing scotch captain and crew who were not even proved to be dead, and were afterwards found to be alive. the fanatical remnant of the covenanters was as bitter against union as the jacobites. yet in the teeth of all this violence of feeling the union was carried, and this not wholly by bribery,[ ] as was then alleged, and as might be suspected from the analogy of the later case of ireland, but through the pressure of common-sense instinct among the less noisy. there was indeed an element of bribery in the english allowance of liberal compensation to the shareholders of the african company (better known as the darien company), who thus had good cash in exchange for shares worth next to nothing; and in a certain sense the reluctant english concession to scotland of freedom of trade was a bribe. but it is by such concessions that treaties are secured; and it needed a very clear self-interest to bring round a scotch majority to union in the teeth of a popular hostility much more fierce than is shown in our own day in the not altogether disparate case of ulster, as regards home rule. burton and macaulay agreed[ ] that the intense wish and need of the scottish trading class to participate in the trade of england (as they had done to much advantage under cromwell, but had been hindered from doing after the restoration) was what brought about the passing of the act of union in the scots parliament. no doubt the moderate presbyterians saw that their best security lay in union;[ ] but that recognition could never have overridden the stiff-necked forces of fanaticism and race hatred[ ] were it not for the call of plain pecuniary advantage. a transformation had begun in scotland. the country which for a hundred and fifty years had been distracted by fanatical strifes, losing its best elements of culture under the spell of judaic bibliolatry, had at length, under the obscure influence of english example, begun to move out of the worst toils of the secondary barbarism, not indeed into a path of pure civilisation--the harm had gone too deep for that--but towards a life of secular industry which at least prepared a soil for a better life in the centuries to come; and even for a time, under the stimulus of the new thought of france, developed a brilliant and various scientific literature. the darien scheme may be taken as a turning-point in scottish history; an act of commercial enterprise then arousing an amount of energy and sensation that had for centuries been seen only in connection with strokes of state and sect. it is not agreeable to idealising prejudice to accept emerson's saying[ ] that the greatest ameliorator in human affairs has been "selfish, huckstering trade"; but, barring the strict force of the superlative, the claim is valid. it is the blackest count in the indictment against england for her[ ] treatment of ireland that she deliberately closed to the sister nation the door which the scotch, by refusing union on other terms when union was highly expedient in the view of english statesmen, forced her to open to them. footnotes: [footnote : armand carrel (_histoire de la contre-révolution en angleterre_, ed. bruxelles, , p. ) notes the "apathetic indifference" to which cromwell's imperialist rule had reduced the middle classes.] [footnote : it is to be noted in this connection that at first the secret was very well kept. there can be no reasonable doubt that shaftesbury and lauderdale were kept in the dark as to the treaty of dover, in which charles agreed with louis to introduce catholicism in england. macaulay's suggestion to the contrary comes of his determination to hear nothing in shaftesbury's defence.] [footnote : this is accepted by armand carrel, who calls him (_histoire de la contre-révolution en angleterre_, p. ) "homme d'une immoralité profonde."] [footnote : it is to be regretted that green, while admitting that mr. christie was "in some respects" successful in his vindication of shaftesbury, should have left his own account of shaftesbury's character glaringly unfair. verbally following burnet, he pronounces ashley "at best a deist" in his religion, and adds that his life was "that of a debauchee," going on to couple the terms "deist and debauchee" in a very clerical fashion. and yet in the previous paragraph he admits that "the debauchery of ashley was simply a mask. he was, in fact, _temperate by nature and habit_, and his ill-health rendered any great excess impossible." the non-correction of the flat contradiction must apparently be set down to green's ill-health. as a matter of fact, the charge of debauchery is baseless. long before mr. christie, one of the annotators of burnet's _history_ (ed. , p. , _note_) defended shaftesbury generally, and pointed out that "in private life we have no testimony that he was depraved." cp. christie, _life of anthony ashley cooper_, , i, .] [footnote : _history of his own time_, ed. , p. .] [footnote : my old friend, mr. alfred marks, whose masterly book, _who killed sir edmund berry godfrey?_ (burns and oates, ), decisively establishes the suicide theory, and disposes of the counter-theory of mr. john pollock, did not dispute the fact of the vague plotting of coleman. no one can say how much of such loose and futile scheming there was.] [footnote : how odious it was may be gathered from dryden's _annus mirabilis_ and marvell's _character of holland_, pieces in which two men of genius exhibit every stress of vulgar ill-feeling that we can detect in the jingo press and poets of our own day.] [footnote : dryden's charge, in _the medal_, of "bartering his venal wit for sums of gold" during the rebellion, is pure figment. it is an established fact that even as councillor of state, to which office there was attached a salary of £ , , shaftesbury, then sir anthony ashley cooper, received no salary at all. see note to mr. christie's (globe) ed. of dryden's poems, pp. , .] [footnote : christie's _life of ashley cooper_, ii, , _note_. perhaps it is not sufficiently considered by mr. christie that sidney regarded france as a possible ally for the overthrow of monarchy in england. cp. hallam, ii, - . his position was not that of an ordinary parliamentary bribe-taker. see ludlow's _memoirs_, iii, , _et seq._ and the english government had sought to have him assassinated.] [footnote : in lord mountjoy in ireland laid it down as the doctrine of the church of england that his master was "by right of descent an absolute king," and that it was unlawful for his subjects "upon any cause to raise arms against him." these words, says dr. gardiner (_history - _, i, ), "truly expressed the belief with which thousands of englishmen had grown up during the long struggle with rome." for earlier discussions see stubbs, i, , more's _utopia_, bk. i, and hooper's _early writings_, ed. , p. .] [footnote : as hallam notes (_middle ages_, th ed. ii, ), the french bishops in the ninth century had claimed sacerdotal rights of deposing kings in as full a degree as the popes did later. in that period, however, bishops were often anti-papal; and the papal claim practically arose in the roman and clerical resistance to the nomination of popes by the emperor, though pope john viii had in his time gone even further than gregory vii did later, claiming power to choose the emperor. _id._ pp. - .] [footnote : buckle is wrong (i, ) in dating the beginning of the revival of the doctrine "about ." saunderson's edition of usher was first published in .] [footnote : the words of thomas are extremely explicit: "si [principes] non habeant justum principatum sed usurpatum, vel si injusta præcipiant, non tenentur eis subditi obedire." _summa_, pt. ii, q. civ, art. . the right of the pope to depose an apostate prince was, of course, constantly affirmed.] [footnote : _tractatus de legibus_, lib. ii, c. ii, § .] [footnote : hallam, _literature of europe_, ed. , iii, .] [footnote : hallam, as last cited, p. . bayle notes (art. "althusius," and _notes_) that the treatise was much denounced in germany.] [footnote : _ecclesiastical polity_, bk. i, ch. x, § .] [footnote : amsterdam, - , vols.] [footnote : it is to be noted that "passive obedience" had different degrees of meaning for those who professed to believe in it. for some it meant merely not taking arms against the sovereign, and did not imply that he was entitled to active obedience in all things. see hallam, ii, .] [footnote : filmer begins his _patriarcha_ ( ) with the remark that the doctrine of natural freedom and the right to choose governments had been "a common opinion ... since the time that school divinity began to flourish." like salmasius, he fathers the doctrine on the papacy; and, indeed, the church of rome had notoriously employed it in its strifes with kings, at its own convenience; but it had as notoriously been put forward by many lay communities on their own behalf, and had been practically acted on in england over and over again. and it is clearly laid down in the third century by tertullian, _ad scapulam_, ii.] [footnote : _memoirs_, nd ed. p. .] [footnote : though it is substantially maintained by grotius, _de jure belli et pacis_, , i, iii, - .] [footnote : johnson was moved to pronounce dryden the most excessive of the writers of his day in the "meanness and servility of hyperbolical adulation," excepting only aphra behn in respect of her address to "eleanor gwyn." but malone vindicates the poet by citing rather worse samples, in particular joshua barnes's "ode to jefferies" (_life_, in vol. i of _prose works of dryden_, , pp. - ). they all indicate the same corruption of judgment and character, special to the royalist atmosphere.] [footnote : toland's ed., , p. .] [footnote : essay (xvi of pt. ii) on the _idea of a perfect commonwealth_. cp. essay vii, on the tendencies of the british government, where harrington's unpracticality is sufficiently indicated.] [footnote : cp. carrel, _contre-révolution_, p. , as to the "profound discouragement" that had fallen on the people in . cp. p. .] [footnote : "our late warrs and schisms having almost wholly discouraged men from the study of theologie." w. charleton, _the immortality of the human soul demonstrated by the light of nature_, , p. . (cp. baxter, _the reformed pastor_, ; ed. , pp. - .) charleston, as his title and that of his previous work on atheism show, uses no ecclesiastical arguments.] [footnote : the french academy, formally founded in , had in a similar way originated in a private gathering some six years before (olivet et pelisson, _relation concernant l'histoire de l'académie françoise_, ed. , p. ). there may of course have been many such private groups in england in the period of the commonwealth.] [footnote : _history of the royal society_, , p. .] [footnote : p. . sprat mentions that many physicians gave great help (p. ).] [footnote : p. .] [footnote : _history of the royal society_, , p. . the french _beaux esprits_ were not afraid to discuss now and then the soul, or even god, contriving to do it without theological heat. see the _collection_ cited, conferences , , , , , etc.] [footnote : _history_, p. .] [footnote : p. .] [footnote : p. .] [footnote : so too with the non-combatants. note, for instance, locke's recoil from the scholastic philosophy, and his early eager interest in chemistry, medicine, and meteorology. anthony à wood records him as a student "of a turbulent spirit, clamorous, and never-contented"--that is to say, argumentative.] [footnote : _history of the royal society_, p. .] [footnote : sprat, of course, carried the "free way of reasoning" only to a certain length, feeling obliged to deprecate "that some philosophers, by their carelessness of a future estate, have brought a discredit on knowledge itself" (p. ); and "that many modern naturalists have bin negligent in the worship of god"; but he still insisted that "the universal disposition of this age is bent upon a rational religion" (p. ). compare the _discourse of things above reason, by a fellow of the royal society_ ( ), attributed to boyle, and published with a tract on the same theme by another fellow.] [footnote : if, that is, the section providing for slavery be his. it probably was not. see mr. fox bourne's _life of locke_, , i, . his influence may reasonably be traced in the remarkable provisions for the freedom of sects--under limitation of theism. _id._ pp. - . mr. fox bourne does not deal with the slavery clause.] [footnote : thoughtful observers already recognised in the time of james ii that if england developed on the french lines religious freedom would disappear from europe. see the tractate _l'europe esclave si angleterre ne rompt ses fers_, cologne, .] [footnote : this may be taken as certain; but it is not clear how far he wished to go. ranke (_history of england_, eng. tr. iv, ) and hassencamp (_history of ireland_, eng. tr. p. ) are satisfied with the evidence as to his having promised the german emperor to do his utmost to repeal the penal laws against the catholics, and his having offered the irish catholics, before the battle of aghrim, religious freedom, half the churches in ireland, and half their old possessions. for this we have only a private letter. however this point may be decided, the treaty of limerick is plain evidence. on the point of william's responsibility for the breach of that treaty, see the excellent sketch of _the past history of ireland_ by mr. bouverie-pusey ( ).] [footnote : cp. the author's _saxon and the celt_, , pp. - .] [footnote : _a character of king charles ii_, ed. , p. .] [footnote : _continuation of the life of clarendon_, in -vol. ed. of _history_, , p. .] [footnote : hallam, iii, , following carte and leland.] [footnote : bishop trench (_narrative of the earl of clarendon's settlement and sale of ireland_, dublin rep. , pp. - ) declares that not only were all re-appropriations to be compensated, but the nominees added to the original list of loyalist officers to be rewarded had not received an acre of land as late as . hallam sums up on anglican lines that the catholics could not "reasonably murmur against the confiscation of half their estates, after a civil war wherein it was evident that so large a proportion of themselves were concerned." in reality, much more than half the land had been confiscated; and all the while the bulk of it remained in the hands of men who had themselves been in rebellion! the settlement was simply a racial iniquity.] [footnote : macaulay, ch. vi, student's ed. i, .] [footnote : _id._ _ib._] [footnote : for a full account of the procedure see thomas davis's work, _the patriot parliament of _, rep. with introd. by sir c. gavan duffy, .] [footnote : cp. the author's _saxon and celt_, pp. , , and _note_.] [footnote : h.d. traill, _strafford_, , p. .] [footnote : lecky, _history of ireland in the eighteenth century_, i, .] [footnote : see petty, _essays in political arithmetic_, ed. , p. .] [footnote : the checking of the irish wool trade was strongly urged by temple in the english interest (_essay on the advancement of trade in ireland_, works, iii, ).] [footnote : see dr. hill burton's _history of the reign of queen anne_, , iii, - . this measure seems to have been overlooked by mr. lecky in his narrative, _history of ireland_, i, .] [footnote : green's ship and crew were first seized without form of law in reprisal for the seizure in england, by the east india company, of a scotch ship belonging to the old darien company, whose trade the india company held to be a breach of its monopoly. the charge of slaying a scotch captain was an afterthought.] [footnote : on this see burton, viii, - ; and cp. buckle, -vol. ed. iii, , as to the rise of the trading spirit.] [footnote : burton's _history of scotland_, viii, , _note_.] [footnote : _id._ viii, .] [footnote : "it is a marvel how the edinburgh press of that day could have printed the multitude of denunciatory pamphlets against the union" (burton, viii, ). "the aristocratic opponents of the union did their utmost to inflame the passions of the people" (_id._ p. , cp. p. , etc.).] [footnote : following hallam, _middle ages_, iii, .] [footnote : properly speaking, the action of "england" was the action of the merchant class, which in this case most exerted itself and got its way.] chapter iv industrial evolution at all times within the historic period trade and industry have reacted profoundly on social life; and as we near the modern period in our own history the connection becomes more and more decisively determinant. in the oldest culture-history at all known to us, as we have seen, the commercial factor affects everything else; and at no time in european annals do we fail to note some special scene or area in which trade furnishes to politicians special problems. thus the culture-history of italy, as we have also seen, is in past epochs inseparably bound up with her commercial history. but as regards the north of europe, it is in the modern period that we begin specially to recognise trade as playing a leading part in politics, national and international. the mediterranean tradition is first seen powerfully at work in the history of the hansa towns: then comes the great development of flanders, then that of holland, then that of england, which gained so much from the influx of flemish and dutch protestant refugees in the reign of philip ii, but which was checked in its commercial growth, under elizabeth and james alike, by their policy of granting monopolies to favourites. sir josiah child puts "the latter end of elizabeth's reign" as the time when england began to be "anything in trade" (_new discourse of trade_, th ed. p. ). cp. prof. busch on english trade under henry vii, _england unter den tudors_, i, - , with schanz, _englische handelspolitik_, i, , where it is stated that in the latter part of the sixteenth century there were , merchants engaged in the sea trade. this seems extremely doubtful when we note that the whole foreign trade of london was stated in parliament in to be in the hands of some citizens (_journals of the house of commons_, may , ), and the total customs of london amounted to £ , a year, as against £ , from all the rest of the kingdom. as hume notes (ch. , _note_), a remonstrance from the trinity house in declared that since the shipping and number of seamen in england had decayed about a third. (cit. from anglesey's _happy future state of england_, p. .) this again, however, seems doubtful. broadly put, the fact appears to be that after a considerable development of woollen manufacture in the towns during the wars of the roses (above, p. ), when sheep-rearing must have been precarious and wool would be imported, there was a general return to pasturage under the tudor peace, the towns falling away, with their manufactures. attempts were made under henry viii and edward vi to develop the english mining industries by means of german workmen and overseers, but apparently with no great success (ehrenberg, _hamburg und england im zeit. der kön. elisabeth_, , pp. - ). it was after the persecution of protestants in the netherlands under charles v had driven many tradesmen to england for refuge that manufacturing industry notably revived; and in - we find the year's exports of england reckoned at £ , for wool and £ , for cloths and other woollen wares; the whole of the rest of the export trade amounting only to £ , (brit. mus. lansdowne ms. , fol. - , cited by ehrenberg, p. ; cp. cunningham, _industry and commerce_, ii, - ; gibbins, _industrial hist. of england_, rd. ed. pp. - .) after the fall of antwerp, again, much of the commerce of that city fell to the share of england, some of her commercial and artisan population following it (froude, _hist. of england_, ed. , xii, - ). in the same period the commercial life of north germany, which had hitherto been far more widely developed than that of england (ehrenberg, pp. - ), was thrown back on the one hand by the opening of the new ocean route to the east indies, which upset the trans-european trade from the mediterranean, and on the other by the new strifes between the princes and the cities (_id._ pp. - ); and here again english trade came to the front. the "merchant adventurers," ready enough to accept monopolies for their own incorporations, were free-traders as against other monopolists;[ ] and not till all such abuses were abolished could england compete with holland. and though they were never legally annulled even under the commonwealth, "as men paid no regard to the prerogative whence the charters of those companies were derived, the monopoly was gradually invaded, and commerce increased by the increase of liberty."[ ] france at times promised to rival both holland and england; but she at length definitely fell behind england in the race, as flanders fell behind holland, by reason of political misdirection. in the middle and latter part of the seventeenth century, all the northern states had their eyes fastened on the shining example of holland;[ ] and commerce, which as an occasion of warfare had since the rise of christianity been superseded by religion, begins to give the cue for animosities of peoples, rulers, and classes. the last great religious war--if we except the strifes of russia and turkey, which are quasi-religious--was the thirty years' war. its very atrocity doubtless went far to discredit the religious motive,[ ] and it ranks as the worst war of the modern world. commerce, however, for centuries supplied new motives for war to men whose ideas of economics were still at the theological stage.[ ] the eternal principle of strife, of human attraction and repulsion, plays through the phenomena of commerce as through those of creed. the profoundly insane lust for gold and silver, which had so largely determined the history of the roman empire, definitely shaped that of spain; and spain's example fired the northern nations with whom she came in contact. prof. thorold rogers is responsible for the strange proposition (_economic interpretation of history_, p. ; _industrial and commercial history of england_, p. ) that the chief source of the silver supply of europe, before the discovery of the new world, was _england_. he offers nothing but his own conviction in proof of his statement, to which he adds the explanation that the silver in question was extracted from sulphuret of lead. it seems well to point out that there is not a shadow of foundation for the main assertion. that the argentiferous lead mines were worked seems clear; but that they could produce the main european supply without the fact being historically noted is incredible. on the other hand, silver mines were found in germany in the tenth century and later, and there is reason to attribute to their output a gradual rise of prices before the fifteenth century (anderson's _history of commerce_, i, ). in any case, there is no reason to doubt the statement of the historians of the precious metals, that what silver was produced in europe in the middle ages was mostly mined in spain and germany. see del mar, _history of the precious metals_, , pp. - and refs.; also ehrenberg, _hamburg und england im zeitalter der königin elisabeth_, , pp. , ; menzel, _geschichte der deutschen_, cap. , _end_; and kohlrausch, _history of germany_, eng. tr. , p. . the direct search for gold as plunder developed into the pursuit of it as price; and wealthier states than spain were raised by the more roundabout method which spain disdained. this was soon recognised by spanish economists, who probably followed the french physiocrats, as represented in the excellent chapters of montesquieu on money (cited above, p. ). see the passage from bernard of ulloa ( ) cited by blanqui, _hist. de l'écon. polit._, e édit. ii, . cp. samber, _memoirs of the dutch trade_, eng. tr. , pref. apart from the habits set up by imperialism, the spaniards were in part anti-industrial because industry was so closely associated with the moriscoes (major hume, _spain_, p. ); and the innumerable church holidays counted for much. yet in the first half of the sixteenth century spain had a great development of town industrial life (armstrong, introd. to same vol. pp. - ). this is partly attributable to the new colonial trade; but probably more to the connection with flanders. cp. grattan, _the netherlands_, pp. , . about , however, manufacture for export had entirely ceased; the trade of madrid, such as it was, was mainly in the hands of frenchmen; the church and the bureaucracy alone flourished; and although discharged soldiers swarmed in the cities, what harvests there were had to be reaped by the hands of french labourers who came each season for the purpose. hume, as cited, p. . this usage subsisted nearly a century later (tucker, _essay on trade_, ed. , p. ) holland in the seventeenth century presented to the european world, as we have seen, the new and striking spectacle of a dense population thriving on a soil which could not possibly be made to feed them. "trade" became the watchword of french statesmanship; and colbert pressed it against a froward nobility;[ ] while in england a generation later it had acquired the deeper rooting that goes with the voluntary activity and self-seeking of a numerous class; and already the gentry freely devoted their younger sons to the pursuits which those of france contemned.[ ] the turn seems to have been taken in the most natural way, after parliament was able to force on james i a stoppage of the practice of granting monopolies. at his accession, the king had sought popularity by calling in and scrutinising the many monopolies granted by elizabeth, which constituted the main grievance of the time.[ ] soon, however, he conformed to the old usage, which had in some measure the support of bacon;[ ] and in it was declared that he had multiplied monopolies twentyfold.[ ] the most careful historian of the period reports that though they were continually being abused,[ ] they were granted on no corrupt motives, but in sheer mistaken zeal for the spread of commerce.[ ] it would be more plausible to say that when interests either of purse or of patronage lay in a certain direction, those concerned were very easily satisfied that the interests of commerce pointed the same way. at length, after much dispute, the lords passed, in ,[ ] a monopoly bill previously passed by the commons in ;[ ] and though some of the chief monopolies were left standing, either as involving patents for inventions or as being vested in corporations,[ ] mere private trade monopolies were for the future prevented. it was a triumph of the trading class over the upper, nothing more. as for the corporations, they were as avid of monopolies as the courtiers had ever been; and independent traders hampered by monopolist corporations were only too ready to become monopolist corporations themselves.[ ] under charles i, for instance, there was set up a chartered company with a monopoly of soap-making, of which every manufacturer could become a member--a kind of chartered "trust," born out of due time--the price paid to the crown for the privilege being £ , and a royalty of £ on every ton of soap made. for this payment the monopolists received full powers of coercion and the punitive aid of the star chamber. after a few years, in consideration of a higher payment, the king revoked the first patent and established a new corporation. similar monopolies were granted to starch-makers and other producers; the long parliament pursuing the same policy, "till monopolies became as common as they had been under james or elizabeth."[ ] part of the result was that about "there were more merchants to be found upon the exchange worth each one thousand pounds and upwards than there were in the former days, before the year , to be found worth one hundred pounds each."[ ] the upper classes, as capitalists and even as traders, were not now likely to remain aloof. but all the while there was no betterment of the lot of the poor. "that our poor in england," writes child after the restoration, "have always been in a most sad and wretched condition ... is confessed and lamented by all men."[ ] child's theory of the effect of usury laws in the matter is pure fallacy; but his estimate of men's fortunes is probably more accurate than the statement of the venetian ambassador in the reign of mary, that "there were many merchants in london with £ , or £ , each."[ ] howell, in ,[ ] expresses a belief that "our four-and-twenty aldermen may buy a hundred of the richest men in amsterdam." yet, though it was also confessed that among the dutch, and even in hamburg and paris, the poor were intelligently provided for,[ ] no such necessity was practically recognised in england,[ ] either by puritan or by cavalier, though before the rebellion the administration of charles had not been apathetic;[ ] and a century later there were the same conditions of popular misery and vice, with a new plague of drunkenness added.[ ] by that time, too, the corporation monopolies were strangling trade just as the private monopolies had formerly done;[ ] while france, which in the latter part of the seventeenth century gave such a stimulus to english and dutch industry by the suicidal revocation of the edict of nantes, had recovered both population and trade,[ ] and was on a commercial footing which, well developed, might have given her the victory over england in the race for empire. everywhere in the seventeenth century, however, the new development meant new strife. protestant england and holland, catholic france and protestant holland, flew at each other's throats in quarrels of trade and tariffs; and for the monopoly of the trade in cloves, dutch and spanish and english battled as furiously as for constraint and freedom of conscience. the primitively selfish and mistaken notion men had formed of commercial economy was on a level with the religious impulse as it had subsisted from the beginning of christendom; and even as each christian sect had felt it necessary to throttle the rest, each nation felt that its prosperity depended on the others' impoverishment. to spite the dutch, the cromwellian party in passed the navigation act, prohibiting all imports of foreign goods save in english ships or those of the nations producing them. in practice it was a total failure, the effect being to injure the english rather than the dutch trade; but the dutch themselves, who were fanatical for their own asiatic monopoly trade, believed it would injure them, and went to war accordingly. the eulogy of the navigation act as "wise" by adam smith (put, by the way, with a "perhaps") is one of his worst mistakes. roger coke in testified (_treatise on trade_, p. , cited by m'culloch) that within two years of the passing of the act england lost the greater part of the baltic and greenland trades; and sir josiah child's _new discourse of trade_ shows in detail that the english by about or had lost to the dutch even much of the trade they formerly had. (see preface to second and later editions, and compare m'culloch, note xi to his edition of the _wealth of nations_, and mccullagh, _industrial history_, ii, .) the one direction in which the act seems to have been successful was in stimulating shipbuilding and seafaring in the american colonies. (see prof. ashley in the _quarterly journal of economics_, boston, november, , pp. - .) joshua gee, in his _trade and navigation of great britain considered_ ( , th ed. p. ), expressly ascribes a "prodigious increase of our shipping" to "the timber trade between portugal, etc., and our plantations," one result being that english ships have "become the common carriers in the mediterranean, as well as between the mediterranean, holland, hambro', and the baltic." he says nothing of the navigation act, but lays stress on the cheap building of ships in new england, and notes (p. ) that the dutch habitually hire english ships "to transport their goods from spain, etc., to amsterdam, and other places." even among expert merchants there was no true economic science, only a certain empirical knowledge, reduced to rule of thumb. hence the traders were for ever tending to strangle trade, and the ablest administrators fell into the snare. everywhere they tended to be possessed by the gross fallacy that they could somehow sell without buying,[ ] and so heap up gold and silver; and to secure at least a balance in bullion was considered an absolute necessity. this was the most serious error of the policy of colbert, who secured a balance of social gain to france by stimulating and protecting shipping and new industries,[ ] but failed to learn the lesson that foreign commerce in the end must consist in an exchange of goods. thus, though he resisted the ruinous methods of louis xiv,[ ] he lent himself to the theory which, next to the hope of making the netherlands a province of france and so an arm of french naval strength, stimulated the policy of war. by repeatedly raising his tariffs he forced the dutch to raise theirs; whereupon france went to war. had he known that the dutch could not sell to france without buying thence, and _vice versa_, he would have rested content with establishing his new industries. m. dussieux (as cited, p. ) frames a deplorable demonstration that holland was impoverishing france and destroying all industry there by selling more articles than she bought. as if any country could go on buying in perpetuity without selling in payment. m. dussieux goes on to admit that france before colbert had some great industries, and a great agricultural export trade, as must needs have been. his argument shows the survival of the mercantilist delusion that trade can drain a productive country of its bullion. it is evident that colbert helped trade more by checking fiscal abuses and promoting canals and roads than by protecting new industries. on the whole he seems to have gravely injured agriculture (_id._ pp. , _note_, and ); and adam smith's criticism (_wealth of nations_, bk. iii, ch. ii; bk. iv, ch. ix) remains valid. he was "imposed upon by the sophistry of merchants and manufacturers, who are always demanding a monopoly against their countrymen," and by prohibiting export of grain he depressed agriculture, the natural and facile industry of france, and so promoted the rural misery which at length inspired the revolution. it was essentially by way of reaction against his error that the physiocrats fell into theirs--the denial that any industry was productive _except_ agriculture. even if he had not prohibited export of grain, his import duties, in so far as they excluded foreign products, would have checked the grain exports which had formerly paid for these. thus, as m. dussieux admits, colbert failed to secure prosperity for the peasantry while he was helping industry. (cp. brandt, _beiträge_, as cited.) colbert in the nineteenth century had the benefit of the doctrine that monarchism prepared for democracy in france, and there is some truth in the protest of morin that on this and other grounds he became the object of "un culte ridicule qui brave les notions les plus élémentaires de l'économie publique" (_origines de la démocratie_, introd.--written in --p. ). morin goes so far as to charge on colbert equally with louvois the misfortunes of france under louis xiv (_id._ pp. , ). of course the rival nations were equally self-seeking. prohibitive tariffs were necessarily lowest with the most specifically commercial state, the dutch; and the free trade doctrine began early to be heard in england. _e.g._, from dudley north. macaulay, ed. cited, i, . see the quotations in m'culloch, as above cited. pepys, in his _diary_, under date , february , tells how sir philip warwick expounded to him the "paradox" that it does not impoverish the nation to export less than it imports. for earlier instances of right thinking on the subject see the author's _trade and tariffs_, p. _sq_. the repeal in of statutes against exporting bullion was carried in the interests of the east india company, and apparently on a false theory; see it in child, _new discourse_, p. . cp. shaftesbury, _characteristics_, treatise ii, pt. i, § , _end_, as to the advantage of a "free port." this had been partially insisted on, as we have seen, by the merchant adventurers in the days of elizabeth and james; and raleigh strongly pressed it in his _observations touching trade and commerce with the hollander and other nations_, presented to james. works, ed. , viii, - . raleigh, however, was a bullionist. but whether rulers leant in the direction of free trade or strove to heap up import duties as did france, they went to war for monopolies and for imposts. holland had as determinedly sought the ruin of antwerp as england did that of holland. and as the race-principle embroiled nations on the score of trade, so the class-principle set up new feuds of class in all the nations concerned. the new trading class fought for its own hand as the trade gilds of the middle ages had done; and the fact of its connections with the gentry did not prevent animosity between gentry and traders or investors in the mass. thus were the old issues complicated, for good or for ill. prof. cunningham (_english industry and commerce_, ed. , ii, - ) offers an unexpected defence of the "mercantile system," under which bullion was striven for as "the direct means of securing power." "the wisdom of the whole scheme," he writes, "is apparently justified by the striking development of national power which took place during the period when it lasted. england first outstripped holland and then raised an empire in the east on the ruins of french dependencies." after this argument dr. cunningham falters, observing: "but even if the logic of facts seems to tell in its favour, there is a danger of fallacy: success was attained, but how far was it due to the working of coal, and the age of mechanical invention, and how far to the policy pursued?" there is really no need to suppose such an antinomy between "the logic of facts" and any other logic. the only legitimate logic of facts is that which takes in all the facts. now, seeing that france was as much devoted as england to the mercantile system, and that in the terms of the case she failed, it cannot have been the mercantile system that secured success to england. the logic of facts excludes the hypothesis. as for the "outstripping" of holland, a country with perhaps a fourth of england's population in the eighteenth century, we have seen that the mercantile system, as operating in the navigation act, totally failed to attain its purpose, and that dutch decadence was largely due to monopolies--_i.e._, to acceptance of the mercantile system. the working of coal, on the other hand, was a real wealth-making force, certainly conducive to naval and other empire. but more allowance is to be made for the fact that france had heavy continental quarrels on hand while she was fighting england in asia and america. if at this stage we seek to discover the manner of life of the working class in england, we shall find it hard to reach a confident conception. many phrases in shakespeare remind us that as towns grew there grew with them a nondescript semi-industrial class, untrained for any regular industry and unable to subsist without industry of some sort. in the latter part of the seventeenth century we seem to see a process of elimination at work by which the organisms capable of enduring toil are selected from a mass to which such toil was too irksome. in sir josiah child writes that the english poor in a cheap year "will not work above two days in a week; their humour being such that they will ... just work so much and no more as may maintain them in that mean condition to which they have been accustomed." that, accordingly, a high price for bread was a good thing, as forcing the poor to industry, became the standing doctrine of such publicists as petty.[ ] in the next generation, mandeville puts as indisputable the statement that "the poor" will not work any more than they need to maintain bare existence. when, late in the eighteenth century, we find adam smith, with french testimony to support him, denying that the pinch of poverty makes for industry, we are left in doubt as to whether the improvement came by a positive dying out of the lazy types through the new plague of alcoholism, or through the gradual exemplary force of a higher standard of comfort as seen among the more industrious. probably both influences were at work. but it was at best in a grimy under-world of degeneracy and hunger, squalor and riot, that there were laid the roots of the new mechanical industries which were to make england the chief mill and counter of europe.[ ] and when we find one of the acutest observers of the next generation arguing that a large body of the needy poor is the right and necessary basis of industry and public wealth,[ ] we realise that the new life was to be as hard for the toilers as that of any earlier age. _conclusion_ it is in the reign of the last of the stuarts, whose sex made her perforce rely on ministers to rule for her, and whose unenlightened zeal[ ] thus missed the disaster which similar qualities had brought upon two of her predecessors--it is in the reign of anne, swayed by favourites to an extent that might have made monarchy ridiculous[ ] if monarchists had gone by reason and not by superstition--that there begins recognisably the era of government by parliamentary leaders, representing at once, in varying degrees, monarch and people; and it is at this point that we begin the biographical studies[ ] to which the foregoing pages offer an introduction. but under new conditions and phases we are to meet for the most part repetitions and developments of the forces already recognised as at work from time immemorial. thus early have we seen in action, on the field of english history, most of those primary forces of strife whose play makes the warp of politics, ancient and modern; and the distinct emergence, withal, of that spirit which, rare and transient in ancient times, seems destined to inherit the later earth--the spirit of science, which slowly transmutes politics from an animal to an intellectual process, raising it from the stage of mere passional life to the stage of constructive art, and from the social relation of rule and subjection towards the relation of mutuality and corporate intelligence. politics, we formally say, is the process of the clash of wills, sympathies, interests, striving for social adjustment in the sphere of legislation and government. the earlier phases are crude and animalistic, and involve much resort to physical strife. the later phases are gradually humanised and intelligised, till at length the science of the past process builds up a new phase of consciousness, which evolves a conscious progressive art. that is to say, the conscious progressive art develops in course of time: it had not really arisen in any valid form at the period to which we have brought our bird's-eye view. it had transiently arisen in the ancient world, as in solon and, far less effectually, in the gracchi; but the conditions were too evil for its growth, and the course of things political was downward, the animal instincts overriding science, till even when there was compulsory peace the spirit of science could no more blossom. in english politics, soon after the beginning of the eighteenth century, the conditions brought about civil peace under a new dynasty, which it was the function of the statesmanship of the dynasty to maintain. at the same time the spirit of science had entered on a new life. it remains to trace, under successive statesmen and in the doctrine of successive politicians, the fluctuations of english progress towards the great utopia, the state of reconciliation of all the lower social antipathies and interests, and of free scope for the inevitable but haply bloodless strifes of ideals, which must needs clash so far as we can foresee human affairs. the progress, we shall see, is only in our own day beginning to be conscious or calculated: it has truly been, so far as most of the actors are concerned, by unpath'd waters to undream'd shores. the hope is that the very recognition of the past course of the voyage will establish a new art and a new science of social navigation. to make a new aspiration pass for a law of progress merely because it is new would, of course, be only a fresh dressing of old error. there is no security that the scientific form will make any ideal more viable than another; every ideal, after all, has stood for what social science there was among its devotees. the hope of a moral transformation of the world is a state of mind so often seen arising in human history that some distrust of it is almost a foregone condition of reflection on any new ideal for thoughtful men. a dream of deliverance pervades the earliest purposive literature of the hebrews; a fabled salvation in the past is made the ground for trust in one to come. wherever the sense of present hardship and suffering outweighs the energetic spirit of life in the ancient world, the young men are found seeing visions, and the old men dreaming dreams; and the thought of "the far serenity of saturn's days" becomes a foothold for the virgilian hope of a golden age to come. a hundred times has the hope flowered, and withered again. confident rebellions, eager revolutions, mark at once its rise and its fall. in our own age the new birth of hope arises in the face of what might have seemed the most definitive frustration; it becomes an ideal of peaceful transformation under the sole spell of social science, with no weapons save those of reason and persuasion. the science of natural forces has widened and varied life without greatly raising it in mass. yet the new science, we would fain believe, will conquer the heightened task. in the fulfilment or non-fulfilment of that hope lies for the coming age the practical answer to the riddle of existence. without such a hope, the study of the past would indeed be desolating to the tired spectator. followed through cycle after cycle of illusory progress and conscious decline, all nevertheless as full of pulsation, of the pride of life and the passion of suffering, as the human tide that beats to-day on the shores of our own senses, the history of organised mankind, in its trivially long-drawn immensity, grows to be unspeakably disenchanting. considered as a tale that is told, it seems to speak of nothing but blind impulse, narrow horizons, insane satisfactions in evil achievement, grotesque miscalculation, and vain desire, till it is almost a relief to reflect how little we know of it all, how immeasurable are the crowded distances beyond the reach of our search-light. alike the known and the unknown, when all is said, figure for us as fruitless, purposeless, meaningless moments in some vast, eternal dream. poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti d'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa girando senza posa, per tornar sempre là donde son mosse; uso alcuno, alcun frutto, indovinar non so.[ ] the untranslatable cadence of leopardi has the very pulse of the wearied seeker's spirit. yet, through all, the fascination of the inquiry holds us, as if in the insistent craving to understand there lay some of the springs of movement towards better days. we brood over the nearer remains, so near and yet so far, till out of the ruins of rome there rise for us in hosts the serried phantoms of her tremendous drama; till we seem to catch the very rasp of cato's voice, and the gleam of cæsar's eye, swaying the tide of things. still, the sensation yields no sense of fruition; rome the dead, and greece the undying, drift from our reach into the desert distance. beyond their sunlit fragments lies a shoreless and desolate twilight-land, receding towards the making of the world; and there in the shadows we dimly divine the wraiths of a million million forms, thronging a hundred civilisations. the vision of that vanished eternity renews the intolerable burden of the spirit baffled of all solution. for assuredly, in the remotest vistas of all, men and women desired and loved, and reared their young, and toiled unspeakably, and wept for their happier dead; and the evening and the morning, then as now, wove their sad and splendid pageantries with the slow serenity of cosmic change. great empires waxed to the power of wreaking infinite slaughter, through the infinite labour of harmless animal souls; and seas of blood alternately cemented and sapped their brutal foundations; and all that remains of them is a tradition of a tradition of their destruction, and the shards of their uttermost decay. not an echo of them lives, save where perchance some poet with struggling tongue murmurs his dream of them into tremulous form; or when music with its more mysterious spell gathers from out the inscrutable vibration of things strange semblances of memories, that come to us as an ancient and lost experience re-won, grey with time and weary with pilgrimage. but to what end, of knowledge or of feeling, if the future is not therefore to be changed? save for such a conception and such a purpose, the civilisations of to-day could have no rational hope to survive in perpetuity any more than those of the past. the fullest command of physical science, however great be the resulting power of wealth-production, means no solution of the social problem, which must breed its own science. the new ground for hope is that the great discipline of physical science has brought with it the twofold conception of the reign of law in all things and the sequence of power upon comprehension, even to the controlling of the turbulent sea of human life. with the science of universal evolution has come the faith in unending betterment. and this, when all is said, is the vital difference between ancient and modern politics: that for the ancients the fact of eternal mutation was a law of defeat and decay, while for us it is a law of renewal. if but the faith be wedded to the science, there can be no predictable limit to its fruits, however long be the harvesting. footnotes: [footnote : schanz, _englische handelspolitik_, i, ff. the merchant adventurers were incorporated under elizabeth (_id._ i, ).] [footnote : hume, _history of england_, ch. , near _end_.] [footnote : dr. cunningham (ii, , , ) notes the feeling under the first stuarts.] [footnote : see buckle, -vol. ed. ii, , -vol. ed. pp. - , and his citations, as to the anti-ecclesiastical character of the peace of westphalia.] [footnote : cp. storch, quoted by m'culloch, _principles of political economy_, introd., and schoell's addition to koch, _hist. of europe_, eng. tr. rd ed. p. . on the tendency of economic science to promote peace, see buckle, i, , ; -vol. ed. pp. - .] [footnote : see the so-called _political testament of colbert_, eng. tr. , p. .] [footnote : petty, _political arithmetic_, ch. x (_essays_, ed. , p. ). even noblemen are mentioned as sometimes putting their younger sons to merchandise. cp. toynbee, _industrial revolution_, p. ; and josiah tucker, _essay on trade_ ( ), th ed. p. .] [footnote : gardiner, _history of england, - _, ed. , i, .] [footnote : _id._ iv, .] [footnote : _id._ iv, .] [footnote : see gardiner, as cited, iv, , for a sample, and in particular pp. - for the notorious case of sir giles mompesson and the inn licences.] [footnote : _id._ iv, , .] [footnote : _id._ v, .] [footnote : _id._ iv, .] [footnote : _id._ vii, .] [footnote : _id._ viii, , .] [footnote : hallam, _constitutional history_, ii, .] [footnote : sir josiah child, _new discourse of trade_, th ed. p. .] [footnote : _id._ p. .] [footnote : lingard, _hist. of england_, th ed. v, .] [footnote : _epistolæ ho-elianæ_, ed. , i, .] [footnote : child, _new discourse of trade_, p. . as to the good management of the dutch in this regard, cp. howell, as cited above, p. .] [footnote : child, whose main concern was to reduce the rate of interest by law, proposed (p. ) to sell paupers as slaves on the plantations, "taking security for ... their freedom afterwards." an antagonist (see pref. p. xi) proposed a law limiting wages.] [footnote : above, p. .] [footnote : josiah tucker, _essay on trade_, th ed. pp. , .] [footnote : _id._ pp. , , ; richardson's _essay on the decline of the foreign trade_ (often attributed to decker), ed. , pp. - .] [footnote : france also, of course, still kept up trade monopolies (tucker, p. ).] [footnote : the fallacy was indeed soon exposed as such by the more enlightened economists. thus the french writer samber, in his _memoirs of the dutch trade_ (eng. tr. ed. , p. ), speaks of the french rulers of colbert's day as having "entertained a notion that they could carry on trade after a new unheard-of method: they proposed to sell their goods to their neighbours, and buy none of theirs." but this was none the less the prevailing ideal of the age. cp. jansen's _general maxims of trade_, , cited by buckle, i, .] [footnote : cp. a. von brandt, _beiträge zur geschichte der französischen handelspolitik_, , pp. - .] [footnote : l. dussieux, _Étude biographique sur colbert_, , ch. vi, § .] [footnote : cp. child, _new discourse_, p. ; petty, essays, p. ; tucker, _essay on trade_, th ed. pp. - . for a general view of the discussion see schulze-gävernitz, _der grossbetrieb_, , einleitung.] [footnote : as early as the manchester woollen industry is noted as flourishing. early in the next century it had immensely increased. schulze-gävernitz, as cited, pp. , .] [footnote : mandeville, _fable of the bees_, remarks _q_ and _y_.] [footnote : "that narrow and foolish woman." hallam, _constitutional history_, iii, , _note_. cp. buckle, i, : "a foolish and ignorant woman."] [footnote : "it seems rather a humiliating proof of the sway which the feeblest prince enjoys even in a limited monarchy, that the fortunes of europe should have been changed by nothing more noble than the insolence of one waiting-woman and the cunning of another. it is true that this was effected by throwing the weight of the crown into the scale of a powerful faction; yet the house of bourbon would probably not have reigned beyond the pyrenees but for sarah and abigail at queen anne's toilet" (hallam, iii, ).] [footnote : a work in course of preparation.] [footnote : "then as to all this activity, so many movements of all things celestial and all things earthly, turning without ceasing, only to return forever there whence they set forth, i can divine no use and no fruition" (leopardi's _nocturnal song of a nomad shepherd in asia_).] index aargau, , , abbott, dr. e., , _n._ abderrahman i, ---- iii, abdy, prof., , abortion in greece, , abyssinia, academy, the french, _n._, achaian league, adams and cunningham, , _n._ adrian iv, Æschines, Æschylus, aetius, , Ætolian league, _ager publicus_, agis, , agrarian distress, - agriculture, ; egyptian, ; roman, , , _sq._, ; greek, , , ; feudal, ; italian, ; dutch, ; english, , _n._, ; scandinavian, , ; swiss, , alaric, alba longa, alboin, , albuquerque, alcibiades, , alcuin, alexander the great, empire of, ---- of parma, , , alexandria, , alfonso de sousa, alfred, _n._, algiers, french. _n._, - , alkman, allen, c.-f., _n._ almohades, the, almoravides, the, althusius, alva, amalfi, , ambrose, amphictyonic councils, amsterdam, ; bank of, anabaptism, , anarchism, anastasius, _n._ anaxagoras, anglo-saxons, , - anne, anskar, antioch, antonines, , , , , antony, franchise policy of, _n._ antwerp, , , , anund jakob, , anytus, appenzell, , , , apuleius, aquinas, thomas, _n._, , , arab character, _sq._ architecture, , , , , arianism, , aribert, ariosto, aristocracy, roman, , , _sq._, - , ; and culture, , ; and politics, ; greek, , , , ; feudal, , , ; italian, , , ; english, , , , , _sq._, , , ; dutch, ; scandinavian, , , , ; portuguese, ; swiss, , ; french, , _n._, aristotle, , , _sq._; on militarism, ; on slavery, , _n._; on sparta, _n._; on population, ; on education, ; and aquinas, aristophanes, , armada, , , , , arminianism, arnold of brescia, , arnold, m., arnold, w.t., artaxerxes, art, evocation of, , , , , , , , ; in athens, - , ; in medieval italy, - , ; in holland, ; in portugal, ; in england, arteveldt, j. van, ashley, prof., _n._, asia minor, , associations, religious, , assyria, aston, sir a., astronomy, , , athaulf, athens, variety of stock in, ; social problem in, , ; reforms of solon in, _sq._, ; morals in, - , ; superstition and ignorance in, _sq._; art and letters in, - , , ; imports of, ; commerce of, ; buildings of, ; silver mines of, - ; citizenship of, ; retrogression of, attila, , attraction and repulsion in politics, - , , , , , , _sq._, , , , , ; modes of, augustine, , _n._, , augustus, , , australian aborigines, aurelian, _n._, , autocracy. see _despotism_ and _tyranny_ avitus, st., babylonia, bacchic mysteries, bacon, bagaudæ, the, bagehot, cited, _n._, _n._ bain, r.n., _n._, _n._ balfour, a.j., _n._, _sq._, _n._ ball, john, banking, , barante, barneveldt, , barros, basle, , , , bayle, beaconsfield, becker, cited, becket, "beggars," confederacy of, beghards, behn, aphra, _n._ belgium, , belisarius, , , , bent, j.t., bentham, berbers, _n._, berlin, university of, berne, , , , , , , , bertrand, a., cited, bibliolatry, , , , , , bijns, anna, bikélas, cited, , bishops and italian cities, , black death, , , , , blackstone, blake, blok, p.j., , blossius of cumæ, boccaccio, bodin, boeckh, , , , , boissier, cited, _n._, bolingbroke, bologna, , , , bordier, , borghini, borgia, cesare, , botta, cited, _n._ boulting, _n._, , _n._ boyle, _n._ brazil, , - ; population in, ; prospects of, - brethren of the common lot, bribery in rome, britain, economic basis of, , browning, o., bruce, bruges, brun, brunehild, brussels, brutus, bryce, cited, , , _n._, , buchanan, buckingham, buckle, on national character, _n._, ; on montesquieu, _n._; on food and life conditions, ; on spanish fanaticism, , ; on climate and civilisation, ; on magna carta, ; on delolme, ; on divine right, _n._; on anne, _n._ bullion delusion, , _sq._ burckhardt, ; as sociologist, ; on greek happiness, ; on sparta, ; on spain and italy, , _n._ burghley, , , burke, ---- u.r., cited, , , , burnet, , burrows, prof., bursian, c., burton, hill, , _n._, bury, ; on roman empire, _n._; on solon, ; on christian disunion, _n._; on heraclius, _n._; on greek art, _n._; on the dorians, - ; on byzantine superstition, _n._; on roman currency, _n._ busch, _n._ butler, w.f., , , _n._, , byzantium, , , , , _sq._, _sq._, , cade, jack, , cæsar, franchise policy of, _n._; revenue policy of, ; policy of doles of, ; policy in campania of, ; and corinth, calderon, , calvin, , , , , calvinism, , , , , _n._, camden, , camoens, cantù, capitalism, in antiquity, , , ; in florence, , _sq._; in holland, , , ; in america, ; in england, , , - , caracalla, , carlyle, _n._, , - carmagnola, carrel, a., _n._, _n._, _n._ carthage, _n._, , castruccio castracani, , _cathari_, cato, cats, , catullus, , celibacy, sacerdotal, celts, , , , , , , chancery, court of, chapman, , charlemagne, , , , , , charles i of england, , _sq._, , ---- ii of england, , , , , , , ---- iii of spain, ---- iv, ---- v, , , , , _n._, charleton, w., _n._ chasles, ph., cited, chastity, barbaric, chaucer, , chemistry, , chievres, child, sir j., , , , _n._, , chilperic, china, polity of, , , - , , , , ; secret societies of, _n._ chinese and europeans, repulsions of, chivalier, _n._ chivalry, christian ii, ---- iii, christianity, conditions of success of, , - , ; effects of, ; and progress, - , , , , ; and roman empire, , , , ; and heresy, , , , , , ; spread of, , - ; and infanticide, - ; and slavery, _sq._, _sq._, - ; and culture, , , , ; and islam, , ; in gaul, ; and morals, , , , , ; and italian disunion, ; in scandinavia, _sq._, , ; and fish eating, ; in modern holland and belgium, ; strife of sects in, chrysostom, church in politics, , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , cicero, on roman politics, - ; on manumission, cimabue, cincinnatus, , city states, , _sq._, , , , , , _sq._, _sq._, _sq._, civilisation and superstition, ; modern, roots of, civilisations, primary and secondary, _sq._ clans, highland, , clarendon, , class degradation, effects of, , , ; relations in england, , ; as political factor, classes, strife of, in rome, _sq._; in greece, , ; in florence, _sq._; in flanders, - ; in switzerland, , ; in england, - , claudian, claudius ii, clémenceau, cleomenes, , _clientes_, roman, climate and race, , _cloacæ_, the roman, clothaire, clovis, coal civilisations, , , , coinage, alleged debasement of, by solon, ; roman debasement of, ; papal debasement of, ; debasement of, by henry viii, . see _currency_ colbert, , , , , , , cologne, colonies, greek, , , ; and culture, _n._; roman, ; scandinavian, ; dutch, comines, _comitia_, roman, _sq._ commerce, roman, - , ; athenian, , ; greek, under roman empire, ; byzantine, ; italian, , - , , , ; danish, ; norwegian, ; medieval, ; dutch, , _sq._; portuguese, _sq._; anglo-saxon, ; english, , , , ; irish, ; spanish, ; and civilisation, , , , , , , , , , , , ; and war, , compass, the, competition of societies, , comte, a., _n._, conrad the salic, conradin, conservatism and isolation, , ; chinese, ; egyptian, ; and militarism, - ; english, constantine, _n._, , , constantinople, evolution of, _sq._ consuls and italian cities, , , corinth, , , _n._ corporations, religious, , , cox, sir g., cited, , creed politics, , , creighton, bishop, _n._ cremona, crete, polity of, _n._, - , crichton and wheaton, _n._, , , cromer, lord, discussed, _sq._ cromwell, oliver, , - , - , ; richard, ; thomas, crusades, effects of, ; and slavery, , ; and civilisation, culture, greek, _sq._; and the sexes, ; importance of diffusion of, culture-contacts, effects of, , ; conditions of success of, , ; and greek civilisation, , ; in christendom, , ; in japan, , ; in modern europe, _sq._; and saracen civilisation, ; and roman civilisation, , , ; and post-roman civilisation, , ; and medieval italy, , , ; and england, _n._; and scandinavia, ; and holland, ; and renaissance, ; and england, cunningham, dr., on greek civilisation, , ; on roman expansion, ; on roman wars, _n._, _n._; on roman decline, - ; on athenian expenditure, _n._; on greeks and phoenicians, , ; on black death, ; on the tudors, ; on puritanism, ; on the mercantile system, _curiæ_, the roman, _sq._, currency, roman, , ; byzantine, ; dutch, curtius, e., cybele, cult of, dahn, f., cited, _n._ danby, dändliker, , _n._ dante, , , , , _n._ daremberg, dr., cited, - darien company, daru, _n._ d'aubigné, - david, j., davies, davis, sir j., ---- h.w. c., "death," political, - , decay, social, , , , , , _sq._; socio-physiological, ; socio-psychological, , , , , - defoe, dekker, _n._ de la chambre, delacourt, delaunay, cited, , della torre, democracy, roman, _sq._; greek, _sq._, _sq._; french, ; american, _n._, , ; scandinavian, , ; flemish, ; dutch, , , ; english, , _sq._; italian, _sq._, ; swiss, _sq._; conditions of success of, ; and intellectual life, demosthenes, , , denmark, structure of, ; political evolution of, , , , - ; religion in, ; slavery in, , ; commerce of, ; reformation in, - ; culture of, - dennis, g., denton, rev. w., descartes, , despotism, and food supply, - ; as political factor, ; and art, _sq._, , , _sq._; and culture, , , _sq._; and decadence, ; in holland, ; in portugal, - ; spirit of, deutsch, cited, _n._, _n._ de witt, , , , dicæarchus, dierauer, , diocletian, , , dionysos, cult of, diophanes, "divine right," _sq._ doge, the title, _n._ dogma and intellect, doles, roman, , , ; byzantine, domesday book, , domitian, dorians, _sq._ dozy, cited, _n._, _n._ drama, greek, - , ; french, ; elizabethan, , , - ; roman, ; spanish, , draper, , , drogheda, siege of, - droysen, _n._, _n._ droz, e., cited, _n._ druidism, drunkenness, english, , ; scandinavian, dryden, , duccio, duffy, miss, dunham, , , _n._, _n._ dureau de la malle, , dussieux, earle, prof., east indies, , ecclesia, athenian, economic causation, ix, ; roman, _sq._; greek, _sq._, _sq._; italian and other, , _sq._, ; scandinavian, , ; dutch, , , , _sq._, ; portuguese, - ; brazilian, ; english, , , education and democracy, ; greek, , ; saracen, , _n._; italian, , _n._; scandinavian, ; dutch, , - , ; portuguese, , ; swiss, , - ; brazilian, ; english, , , _n._ edward iii, , , _n._; iv, , ; vi, effen, van, egypt, effect of nile on polity of, ; civilisation of, ; culture of, ; art of, , ; human sacrifice in, ; modern, ; moslem, eichhorn, eleusinia, the, eliot, , elizabeth, , - emerson, emigration, greek, ; scandinavian, - ; swiss, , emilius, paulus, empire, sociological process of, in rome, _sq._, , _sq._, , , _sq._; in byzantium, _sq._; in greece, _sq._; in turkey, ; in florence, , ; in scandinavia, , ; in holland, , ; in france, ; in britain, , , ; in portugal, _sq._; and literature, enclosures, , england, evolution of, in anglo-saxon times, , , , , , - ; after conquest, _n._, , , _sq._, , ; in tudor period, _sq._; process of rebellion, - ; cromwell's rule, - ; restoration politics, , _sq._; influence on french culture, ; influence on german culture, ; and spain, - , ; in eighteenth century, ; reformation in, , _sq._; industrial evolution of, _sq._; present polity of, , , _sq._, ; and holland, , , , , , ; and france, , , ennius, , epicurus, epimenides, equality, schemes of, equilibrium, social, , erasmus, erik i and ii, essex, _n._, , etruscans and romans, , , _n._; civilisation of, , ; unity of, euripides, , europe, political variety of, exposure of infants, , ezzelino, falkland, fatalistic reasoning in politics, _faustrecht_, , favourites, royal, - , , federalism, in greece, - ; in italy, ; in netherlands, , ; in switzerland, , _sq._ ferdinand, duke, ferguson, cited, ferrero, on roman character, _n._; on roman trade, _n._, _n._, _n._, _sq._; as sociologist, ; on roman civilisation, feudalism, _sq._, , , , , filmer, _n._, , finance, roman, _sq._, _sq._, - , ; byzantine, , ; greek, _sq._; spanish, , ; papal, , ; dutch, - , ; portuguese, , ; english, , - , , finland, , _n._ finlay, as sociologist, ; on roman finance, ; on roman decline, ; on byzantium and lombard invasion, ; on eastern empire, , , - , ; on greece under roman empire, _n._; on christianity and slavery, _n._; on philosophic schools at athens, fisheries, danish, - ; dutch, , , , , ; portuguese, flanders, _n._, , , , , , , , fletcher of saltoun, flint, prof., cited, , floods in netherlands, florence, constitutions of, , , , , , ; political evolution of, - , _sq._; factions at, , , , _n._, _sq._; and her allies, ; industry of, , ; wealth of, , ; interest at, _n._; art in, , , _n._; and papacy, ; under duke ferdinand, ; literature of, ; causes of eminence of, ; commercial development of, ; militarism at, ; and pisa, , , - ; and venice, , ; under medici, _sq._; taxation in, ; collapse of, food and polity, _n._, , , , , ford, fowler, w. warde, ; cited, _n._, _n._, , _n._ france, intellectual evolution of, , , ; and holland, , - ; and england, , , - ; empire in, ; religion in, ; population in, - ; and switzerland, franks, polity of, , , , frederick barbarossa, , , ---- ii, , , ---- the great, ---- of denmark, freedom of the press, , freeman, on greek federation, - ; on greek history, ; on athenian citizenship, _n._; on simon de montfort, free trade, , french politics, - . see _france_ ---- academy, _n._, ---- revolution, , _n._, , fribourg, , , , fronde, the, _n._, fronto, frontiers, theories of, froude, fustel de coulanges, , , _n._ fyffe, cited, gaeta, _n._ galileo, galton, gardiner, on house of commons, _n._, ; on lollardism, _n._; on scotch calvinism, ; on elizabeth, _n._, , ; on henry viii, ; on eliot, ; on cromwell, - , _n._, _n._; on lilburne, _n._; on drogheda, - ; on barbone parliament, gasquet, dr., gaul, roman and christian, , , , gaultier de brienne, gee, geijer, _n._, gelasius, geneva, , , , , , , , genius, in politics, ; evocation of, , _sq._ genoa, , , , , , ; modern, - geographical causation, , , , , , germany, effects of subdivision of, ; trade of, ; intellectual evolution of, - , ; political and social evolution of, _sq._, , , ; medieval, ; reformation in, , , ghent, , , ghibelines and guelphs, - , , _sq._ gibbon, on byzantium, ; on population of roman empire, _n._; on pestilence in the empire, ; and sismondi, ; on theodoric, _n._; on the lombards, ; on roman slavery, giddings, gilds, german, ; trade, , , , giles, h.a., cited, _n._, _n._ gillies, glarus, , , , , gneist, godkin, l., cited, _n._, gold-mining, , - , , , gondebald, gontran, gospels and slavery, goths, , , gouraud, c., _n._ gray, gracchi, , , , , _n._ gratian, grattan, t.c., greece, superstition and ignorance in, _sq._; structure of, , , ; population in, _sq._; industry in, , ; conquests of, , , ; under roman empire, - ; evocation of art in, _sq._; literature in, _sq._ greek civilisation, , , _sq._; in italy, ; evolution of, _sq._, _sq._, ; modern, - "greek fire," green, captain, green, j.r., on anglo-saxons and christianity, _n._, ; on english slavery, , , ; on reformation, ; on elizabeth, ; on english poverty, _n._; on hobbes, _n._; on shaftesbury, _n._ greene, , greenidge, cited, , _n._ gregorovius, , cited, _n._, _n._, , _n._ gregory the great, , _n._, ---- vii, _n._ see _hildebrandt_ ---- x, ---- xiii, grenvelle, grisons, , grote, , ; on solon, ; on greek polity, ; on athenian imperialism, _sq._; on pericles, ; on culture contacts, , ; on "race," , , - ; on lycurgus, ; on greek infantici de, ; on lesbos, ; on athenian drama, ; on sparta, ; on crete, - ; on switzerland, _n._, _n._, grotius, , , , _n._ grundy, dr. g.b., , gubbio, guicciardini, f., _n._ ---- l., , guilliman, guizot, on roman empire and christianity, _n._, ; on european progress, ; on gaulish monasteries, ; on christian persecution, _n._; on teutonic barbarism, _n._; on charlemagne, ; on france and germany, _n._; on decline of slavery, - , ; on the reformation, gustavus vasa, , guthry, bishop, hadrian, hakam i, ---- ii, halifax, hallam, on genius, ; on the lombards and italy, ; on feudalism, ; on venice, ; on simon de montfort, ; on henry vii, _n._; on english nobility under henry viii, ; on anne, _n._; on ireland, _n._; on whigs and tories, _n._; on charles i, _n._; on james i, _n._ hamburg, handel, hannibal, hansa, , - ; of london, , , harald bluetooth, harald klak, hardwick, , haren, van, harold fairhair, harrington, harrison, f. - , - hartmann, l.m., hassencamp, _n._, hawkwood, sir j., hazlitt, w., cited, _n._ ---- w. c, heeren, cited and discussed, , _n._, , hegel, cited and discussed, _n._, ---- karl, , _n._ hegewisch, _hektemorioi_, the, henry the fowler, _n._ ---- the navigator, ---- iv of england, ---- v of england, , ---- vii of england, ---- viii of england, , , heracleia, heraclius, - heredity, official, , , _heredium_, the roman, _sq._ heresy, , , , , , herodotus, , cited, , hertzberg, , , _n._ heyd, w. von, , hiero, hildebrandt, _n._, , , hill, rev. g., hippocrates, hippodamus, hisham, historiography, modern, viii, ix; greek, hobbes, - ; on communism, hochart, on constantine, _n._ hodgkin, t., , cited _n._, _n._ holbein, holberg, holland, primary conditions of, ; slavery in medieval, - ; empire of, ; political evolution of, _sq._; historiography of, - ; industry in, , , _sq._; factions in, - , , ; despotism in, ; revolt of, _sq._; religious distribution in, ; constitution of, ; commerce of, _sq._, - ; finance and currency of, - ; public debt of, , ; and england, , , , , ; and france, , , - ; decline of, _sq._; capitalism in, ; culture evolution of, _sq._; art in, - ; population in, , - holm, , _n._, _n._, homer, honorius, , , hooft, hooker, "hooks and codfish," horace, , houses, athenian, ; italian, howell, , hudson, h., huguenots, , , , , humanists, italian, hume, cited, , , , _n._, _n._ huns, , , hunt, w., huxley, cited, hygiene, ancient, ibn khaldun, - ibsen, iceland, , , _sq._, ihne, cited, _n._ illyria, image-worship, imperialism, roman, _sq._, ; athenian, _sq._; greek, _sq._; ancient and modern, _sq._; barbaric, ; danish, , ; dutch, ; british, , , , - india, evolution of, ; british, _n._, , ; portuguese, , _indigitamenta_, _n._ indulgences, catholic, industry, in greece, ; in italian cities, , , - ; in netherlands, , ; in iceland, ; in spain, ; modern, infanticide, , , , innocent iii, ---- iv, inquisition, , , , interest, roman limitation of, ; roman, and _note_; florentine, _n._; in holland, , ionia. see _asia minor_ ireland, , , ; english misgovernment of, , , - , _sq._ ireton, islam, , , , , isocrates, isolation and polity, , italy, structure of, ; greek cities of, ; modern, economics of, ; post-roman, evolution of, , _sq._; medieval, culture evolution in, , , _sq._; republican collapse in, _sq._ see _rome_ jacquerie, james i, , , , , ---- ii, , japan, evolution of, - , java, , jeffreys, jesuits, , - jewry, , , jews, modern, , john ii of portugal, , john, king, johnson, _n._ jonson, ben, , julian, _n._, juste, justice, in greece, justin, justinian, , , , , juvenal, kampen, j. van, , kant, ; cited, keightley, kemble, j.m., , , keymor, , kings, roman, kleisthenes, kleon, knox, knut, , koran, the, kyd, , ladislaus, lætus, p., laing, _n._, _laissez-faire_, lamprecht, viii, ix land question, in rome, _sq._, ; in greece, , ; in anglo-saxon england, lane-poole, s., cited, , langlois and seignobos, _n._ language, in politics, _n._, , , ; and culture, , lanzone, larroque, cited, _n._ laud, _n._ laurium, mines of, - law, roman, , , ; teutonic, - , ; schools of, leagues, greek, ; italian, ; german, , , ; swiss, , _sq._, lecky, leclerc, l., cited, leghorn, leibnitz, leicester, lennep, j. van, leo the isaurian, ---- x, , , ---- h., , , _n._, , _n._ leopardi, le play, _n._, lesbos, , leslie, cliffe, liberalism, , licinian laws, , lilburne, lisbon, , , literature, evolution of, in greece, _sq._; in rome, _sq._; in italy, - , ; in sicily and provence, - ; in scandinavia, _sq._; in holland, ; in germany, ; in portugal, , ; in england, , - ; and empire, livy, locke, , and _note_, lollardism, , - , lombards, polity of, , _sq._, , long, g., _n._ lope de vega, , louis the fat, louis xiv, , , , louvain, louvois, lübeck, lucan, lucca, lucerne, , , , , , lucretius, lucullus, _n._ luther, lyall, sir a., lycurgus, , lynch-law, macaulay, lord, , _n._, , _n._, ---- g.c., - mackintosh, _n._ mccrie, mccullagh, , , cited mcculloch, ; on roman doles, ; on the dutch, mcdiarmid, machiavelli, , ; on the lombards, _n._; on the papacy, ; on florence, ; ideal of, ; on guelphs, magellan, magna carta, _n._, , , mahaffy, as sociologist, ; on prehistoric civilisation, ; on greek infanticide, ; on greek population, ; on greek commerce, ; on cilician pirates, ; on greek art, ; on sparta, , _n._ mahon, maine, sir h., , , maisch, maitland, f.w., _n._, , malaria in italy, - malone, _n._ mallet, e., malthus, cited, _n._, , , - , mandeville, , manley, - marck, w. van der, marcus aurelius, margaret of norway, marignano, marius, marks, alfred, _n._ marlborough, marlowe, marvell, , _n._ mary of england, ---- of scotland, maspero, cited, _n._ mathematics, matilda, countess, , maurice (emperor), , maurice of orange, , maximilian i, mazarin, _n._ mazdeism, medicine, evolution of, , _sq._; schools of, medici, the, , , _sq._ megalomania, megara, _n._ melville, andrew, menander, , ménard, cited, mencius, - mental development in greece, menzel, _n._ mercantile system, _sq._ merchant adventurers, the, , merimée, merovingian kings, the, , mexico, meyer, ed., on quirites, _sq._; on roman land law, ; on greek taxation, ; on solon, _n._; on greek civilisation, ; on _ager publicus_, _n._; on roman culture, _n._ ---- ernst von, cited, michel angelo, milan, , , , , , , , , , militarism, and democracy, _sq._; roman, , , ; and culture, , , , ; spartan, ; saracen, , ; turkish, ; florentine, ; dutch, ; swiss, ; english, mill, j.s., , milman, _n._, milton, , , , mining, roman, ; greek, - ; brazilian, ; medieval, ministerial government, , mitchell and caspari, , , _n._, - mitford, , mithraism, , , mommsen, on quirites, ; on the plebs, ; on roman land law, , ; on roman city life, _n._; on roman taxation, ; on the antonines, ; on roman religion, , , ; on antiquity of writing, _n._; on the celts, , monasteries, , - "money economy," monk, monopolies, trade, and civilisation, ; athenian, ; byzantine, ; dutch, , , , ; english, , , , , , , _sq._; flemish, ; papal, ; portuguese, , ; spanish, in italy, ; hanseatic, montaigne, vii, montesquieu, on civil war, ; as sociologist, _n._; on hannibal, ; on soil and polity, montmorency, moors. see _saracens_ morals, greek, _sq._; byzantine, ; frankish, - ; english, , more, sir t., _n._, , morgarten, morin, f., cited, _n._, _n._, morley, lord, cited, mosheim, - , motley, ; on celts and teutons, , , _n._, , ; on the reformation, ; on dutch slavery, ; on spain and holland, mountjoy, lord, _n._ müller, k.o., cited, , _n._ mummius, murray, gilbert, mysteries, religious, mythology, greek and roman, , _sq._ names of abuse, nantes, edict of, napier, capt., naples, , _n._, , , , napoleon, ; prince, cited, _n._ narses, _n._, , national character. see _race_ national debts, , , , nationality, notion of, _sq._ navigation act, , , , , navy, english, _n._, ; spanish, ; dutch, nerli, _n._ nero, netherlands. see _holland_ neuchâtel, , newman, f.w., cited, niebuhr, cited, _n._, nöldeke, _n._, normandy, , normans, , , north, dudley, norway, structure of, ; political evolution of, - , , ; religion in, - ; reformation in, ; population in, , , oates, titus, odoaker, , odour in races, oebly, olaf the lap king, : tryggvason, ; st., oligarchy, oman, cited, , orange. see _william of_ orosius, cited, ortolan, cited, _n._, otté, _n._ otto i, , , , overton, r., _n._ padua, pæderasty in greece, painting, italian, - , , , - pais, prof., palermo, papacy, and italian disunion, , - , _sq._, ; and culture, , , ; and slavery, ; and trade, ; finance of, ; and art, , ; and celibacy, ; and rienzi, ; and florence, ; and divine right, paparrigopoulo, parliaments, , _n._, parma, , _n._ parthian empire, _paterini_, patricians, the roman, patriotism, , , , , ; and art, patterson, w.r., , paul, paul the deacon, pauw, de, pavia, pearson, c.h., , , _n._ pecock, bishop, pedro ii, peele, , peisistratos, , - , pelham, prof., cited, pepys, pequods, the, pericles, , , , , , perrens, f.t., , , _n._, _n._, , _n._ persia, , , , pertinax, _n._ peru, , perugia, petit, cited, petronius, petty, , , , phaleas, pheidon, philip ii, _sq._, , , ---- iv, , , philip of macedon, - philippus, lucius marcus, philosophy, greek, , , , phocas, phoenicia, , , - , _n._ physiology and sociology, _n._, picton, j.a., _n._ pignotti, pindar, piracy, cilician, ; algerine, ; scandinavian, , , , pisa, , , , , , , , , , , pitt, plato, , , , _plebs_, the roman, _sq._, , _sq._, , ; privileges obtained by, and _n._ pliny the elder, , pluquet, plutarch, , _n._ _podestà_, the title, _n._ poetry, greek, ; english during commonwealth, , _n._ pöhlmann, r., poisoned weapons, use of, politics, definition of, , ; theories of, , , , , pollock, sir f., polyandry, polybius, cited, polytheism and politics, pombal, marquis of, _n._, , pompeius, pontalis, popish plot, population in rome, , , , ; in greece, _sq._, _sq._, , , ; in scandinavia, , , ; in roman empire, _sq._, ; in holland, , , - ; in switzerland, , , _sq._; in portugal, , ; in brazil, ; in feudal england, _sq._, - ; in france, - ; in ireland, ; control of, , _populus_, the roman, _sq._ portugal, evolution of, - ; exploration by, , _sq._; population in, ; finance of, , positivism, _n._ pott, cited, poverty in rome, , _sq._, _sq._ (see _doles_); in greece, _sq._, ; and culture, ; in scandinavia, - ; in england, , , , - , , , , - , ; in holland, , powell, prof. york, quoted, presbyterianism, , , , priesthoods, , , , , printing, effects of, , privateering, _n._, procopius, procter, colonel, , _n._ progress, _sq._; european, factors in, ; nature of, ; in the east, , proletariate, roman, , ; greek, _sq._; flemish, ; dutch, ; italian, , _sq._; english, , , , protection, evocative, , , _sq._; , , provence, , prudentius, _n._ publilius, puchta, pulszky, _n._ puritanism, - , _sq._; _sq._ pym, pythagoreanism, _n._ quirinus, _quirites_, the name, race, theories of, _sq._, _n._, , , , , , , _sq._, _sq._, , , , , , - , , , , - , _n._, , , , , ; crosses of, , , , , , ; homogeneity in, , , ; function of, in politics, raleigh, , ranke, , _n._, , _n._ rashdall, dr., _n._ rationalism, greek, ; saracen, ; medieval, ; modern, , , ratzel, ravenna, , , reade, winwood, cited, reber, redskins, civilisation of, referendum, reformation, , ; in italy, _sq._, ; in spain, , , ; in france, , ; in germany, , , , - , ; in holland, , _sq._; in scandinavia, _sq._; in switzerland, _sq._; in england, , , - ; in scotland, ; in iceland, religion in politics, , , _sq._; at rome, , _n._, _sq._; as substitute for politics, _sq._, ; paralysis of intellect by, , ; and monarchy, _sq._ rembrandt, renaissance, , , , - renan, republics, italian, - republicanism, portuguese, - ; english, , reumont, a. von, revolutions, south american, rhodes, , , richard ii, , ---- iii, richards, e., _n._ richelieu, , rienzi, , - rilliet, , , rio-branco, _n._ robertson, e.w., on roman _heredium_, ---- w., rodogast, roger ii, rogers, prof. th., ; and economic interpretation of history, _n._; on trade in sixteenth century, - ; on holland, ; on population in medieval england, - ; on lollardism, _n._; on enclosures, ; on medieval production of silver, rolf, _n._ rome, political evolution of, , _sq._, _sq._, _sq._, ; early civilisation of, , ; economic life of, _n._, _sq._; land system of, _sq._; effects of war in, _sq._; bribery in, ; army finance in, ; pagan, religion of, , _sq._; and carthage, ; deterioration of, _sq._, ; barbarian invasion of, , - ; slavery in, ; commerce in, - ; finance in, _sq._, - , ; doles in, ; agriculture in, , , _sq._; fever in, _sq._; confiscation of pagan revenues in, ; collapse of, _sq._; church of, , , - , , , , , _sq._, , , , ; and greece, _sq._, _sq._, ; law of, , , ; art and letters in, , , _sq._; and lombards, ; influence of, on italian cities, ; in thirteenth century, ; under rienzi, - ; german conquest of, roscoe, , , _n._ round, j.h., rousseau, , royal society, - royalism, , , , , , , royer-collard, rubens, russia, culture-conditions of, , - ; and the far east, rutherford, s., sabines and romans, , , , _sacra_, roman, sacrifice, human, st. gall, , saint-simon, _n._ salerno, salimbene, _n._ salmasius, _n._ salting, salvation army, _n._ salverte, cited, , salvian, _n._, , samber, _n._ sappho, , saracens, and christendom, ; and byzantine trade, ; civilisation of, _sq._; and italy, , , _n._; and sicily, ; and provence, savigny, , savonarola, saviour gods, , scandinavia, prospects of, - , ; evolution of, _sq._; histories of, _n._; religion in, _sq._, ; population in, , , _sq._; social conditions in, - , ; reformation in, _sq._; separatism in, - , ; culture evolution of, _sq._ schaffhausen, , , schanz, _n._, scherer, h., cited, schlegel, schwegler, cited, , , schweitzer, _n._, _n._ schwytz, , , , , , science, evolution of, , _sq._, , , , _sq._ scotland, intellectual evolution in, , , _n._, ; union with england, - sculpture, evolution of, _sq._, , , , seebohm, _n._, seeley, on decadence, - ; on small nations, ; on national greatness, ; on holland, ; on england and spain, _n._ selim i, semites, evolution of, , _sq._ senate, the roman, , , seneca, senior, n., cited, separatism, , , - , , , , , servius tullius, , sexes, equality of, , , , sextus empiricus, sforza, , shaftesbury, first earl, _sq._ ---- third earl, cited, - , _n._, shakespeare, - sheep farming, , sherborne, bishop, shipping, dutch, , , , ; french, ; english, , , , ; irish, shuckburgh, cited, , , sicily, taxation of by rome, ; and saracens, ; literature of, ; revenue of, ; medieval invasions of, _sq._; parliament in, sidney, algernon, , , siena, , silk manufacture, , , , silver, greek production of, - ; medieval production of, simon de montfort, , , simonides, sismondi, , ; on the merovingians, ; on the tenth century, , ; on the lombards, , ; on feudalism, ; on italian republics, _n._; on provence, _n._; on papal rule, ; on despotism and letters, ; on gaultier, ; on italian proletariate, ; on the medici, ; on national egoism, _n._ sixtus v, slave-trade, portuguese, ; english, , slavery, and civilisation, - , - ; roman, - , , , , , - ; greek, and _note_, , , , and _note_; christian, _sq._, _sq._; brazilian, , , ; scandinavian, , ; dutch, , ; portuguese, , ; swiss, ; english, - , , , ; decline of, _sq._ slavs, , , smith, adam, _n._, , , , , , snobbery, national, - "social contract," , socialism, sociology, course of, , ; in seventeenth century, socrates, , , soleure, , , , , solon, _sq._, , somaliland, sousa, alfonso de, spain, roman, , , , , ; christian, evolution of, , , - , ; parliament in, ; and portugal, - ; and italy, - ; and holland, _sq._; inquisition in, ; finance of, ; and england, - ; prospects of, , ; stagnation of, - , , , ; industry in, ; gothic, ; saracen, _sq._ spalding, , , sparta, polity of, , , , - , _sq._; women in, _n._, spencer, h., _n._ spiegel, _sq._ sprat, _sq._ spreghel, sprengel, cited, "state," the word, staley, e., stephen, king, stephens, h.m., _n._, , _n._ stilicho, , stoics, - strabo, strafford, _n._, , strife, modes of, - , struensee, stubbs, bishop, on teutons, ; on feudalism, , ; on spain and germany, ; on normans, ; on parliament, _n._; on magna carta, ; on english commerce, _n._; on enclosures, suarez, - , sulla, , , , , sumptuary laws, superstition, roman, ; greek, ; byzantine, ; and natural phenomena, sweden, structure of, ; political evolution of, , , ; religion in, ; polygamy in, ; slavery in, ; population in, - , switzerland, - ; structure of, ; evolution of, _sq._; histories of, ; population in, , _sq._; culture evolution of, , _sq._; reformation in, _sq._; modern, _sq._ sybaris, _n._ symes, prof., cited, symonds, j.a., , cited , _n._, , - , ; discussed, - synthesis, syracuse, literature at, tacitus, _n._, taine, - tanquelin, tasso, taxation, roman, , , ; athenian, ; byzantine, - ; moslem, ; dutch, _n._, ; english, , , , ; spanish, , , ; florentine, ; papal, ; venetian, ; scandinavian, tell, myth of, - temple, sir w., , , , _n._, , testa, _n._ teuffel, on roman degeneration, - teutomania, , , , , , , , , teutonic evolution, _sq._, , tertullian, _n._ theodoric, - , , theognis, theresa of portugal, thessaly, , thierry, _n._ thirlwall, ; cited, , _n._, _n._ thirty years' war, three, the number, thucydides, , , thurgau, , ticino, , , tocqueville, de, _n._, toleration, , torquemada, totila, traill, h.d., trench, bishop, _n._ trollope, t.a., , _n._ troubadours, , tübingen, tucker, dean, - turkey, religion in, ; prospects of civilisation in, , , ; empire in, turner, sharon, tyndale, tyranny, effects of, , ; and art, _sq._; greek, ; at florence, ; in england, _sq._; in scotland, twysden, ulster, _umiliati_, , _n._ united states, civilisation of, , , universities, , , , , _n._ unterwalden, , , , , , urban ii, uri, , , , , , , usher, usury, roman, , , ; roman legislation against, ; in greece, - ; medieval, ; in england, utopia, utrecht, valais, , , , valentinian, , valla, l., vandals, , vandyck, , variation, social, varro, _n._ vaud, , , , vaughan, velasquez, , , , venice, evocation of art in, , , , ; trade of, , , , ; rise of, , ; and byzantium, , ; and turks, ; social conditions in, - ; and florence, ; and france, ; polity of, - verity, dr. r., cited, _n._ verres, vespasian, _n._ vicente, vico, , vieusseux, viglius, vijnne, villainage in england, _sq._ villani, g., , _n._ villari, prof., , , , _n._ villemain, _n._, vinogradoff, , virgil, , viscontis, , , , , visigoths, the, , volney, voltaire, , vondel, wagner, waitz, walckenaer, , , , wales, , waller, walloons, war, persistence of, - ; and democracy, , , , ; private, , , ; in medieval italy, , ; and class relations, - ; and civilisation, , ; alleged benefits of, ward, lester, wealth, adventitious, effects of, weaving, , webster, wends, the, , wenzelburger, whigs and tories, _n._ whitney, - whittaker, t., whistler, cited, wiclif, wicquefort, william of orange, , , , ---- the conqueror, ---- iii, wissowa, _n._ wittich, women, status of, , - , , , woollen trade, , _n._, , , , , writing, antiquity of, _n._ xenophon, , ypres, zeno, zimmern, miss, _n._ zola, on war, zschokke, _n._, zug, , , , zurich, , , , , , , , zwingli, , printed by watts and co., johnson's court, fleet street, e.c. machiavelli with an introduction by henry cust. m.p. volume i the art of war translated by peter whitehorne the prince translated by edward dacres london published by david nutt at the sign of the phoenix long acre edinburgh: t. and a. constable, printers to his majesty to my friend charles whibley h.c. introduction [sidenote: the life of a day.] 'i am at my farm; and, since my last misfortunes, have not been in florence twenty days. i spent september in snaring thrushes; but at the end of the month, even this rather tiresome sport failed me. i rise with the sun, and go into a wood of mine that is being cut, where i remain two hours inspecting the work of the previous day and conversing with the woodcutters, who have always some trouble on hand amongst themselves or with their neighbours. when i leave the wood, i go to a spring, and thence to the place which i use for snaring birds, with a book under my arm--dante or petrarch, or one of the minor poets, like tibullus or ovid. i read the story of their passions, and let their loves remind me of my own, which is a pleasant pastime for a while. next i take the road, enter the inn door, talk with the passers-by, inquire the news of the neighbourhood, listen to a variety of matters, and make note of the different tastes and humours of men. 'this brings me to dinner-time, when i join my family and eat the poor produce of my farm. after dinner i go back to the inn, where i generally find the host and a butcher, a miller, and a pair of bakers. with these companions i play the fool all day at cards or backgammon: a thousand squabbles, a thousand insults and abusive dialogues take place, while we haggle over a farthing, and shout loud enough to be heard from san casciano. 'but when evening falls i go home and enter my writing-room. on the threshold i put off my country habits, filthy with mud and mire, and array myself in royal courtly garments. thus worthily attired, i make my entrance into the ancient courts of the men of old, where they receive me with love, and where i feed upon that food which only is my own and for which i was born. i feel no shame in conversing with them and asking them the reason of their actions. 'they, moved by their humanity, make answer. for four hours' space i feel no annoyance, forget all care; poverty cannot frighten, nor death appal me. i am carried away to their society. and since dante says "that there is no science unless we retain what we have learned" i have set down what i have gained from their discourse, and composed a treatise, _de principalibus_, in which i enter as deeply as i can into the science of the subject, with reasonings on the nature of principality, its several species, and how they are acquired, how maintained, how lost. if you ever liked any of my scribblings, this ought to suit your taste. to a prince, and especially to a new prince, it ought to prove acceptable. therefore i am dedicating it to the magnificence of giuliano.' [sidenote: niccolò machiavelli.] such is the account that niccolò machiavelli renders of himself when after imprisonment, torture, and disgrace, at the age of forty-four, he first turned to serious writing. for the first twenty-six or indeed twenty-nine of those years we have not one line from his pen or one word of vaguest information about him. throughout all his works written for publication, there is little news about himself. montaigne could properly write, 'ainsi, lecteur, je suis moy-mesme la matière de mon livre.' but the matter of machiavelli was far other: 'io ho espresso quanto io so, e quanto io ho imparato per una lunga pratica e continua lezione delle cose del mondo.' [sidenote: the man.] machiavelli was born on the rd of may . the period of his life almost exactly coincides with that of cardinal wolsey. he came of the old and noble tuscan stock of montespertoli, who were men of their hands in the eleventh century. he carried their coat, but the property had been wasted and divided. his forefathers had held office of high distinction, but had fallen away as the new wealth of the bankers and traders increased in florence. he himself inherited a small property in san casciano and its neighbourhood, which assured him a sufficient, if somewhat lean, independence. of his education we know little enough. he was well acquainted with latin, and knew, perhaps, greek enough to serve his turn. 'rather not without letters than lettered,' varchi describes him. that he was not loaded down with learned reading proved probably a great advantage. the coming of the french, and the expulsion of the medici, the proclamation of the republic ( ), and later the burning of savonarola convulsed florence and threw open many public offices. it has been suggested, but without much foundation, that some clerical work was found for machiavelli in or even earlier. it is certain that on july , , he was appointed chancellor and secretary to the dieci di libertà e pace, an office which he held till the close of his political life at fall of the republic in . [sidenote: official life.] the functions of his council were extremely varied, and in the hands of their secretary became yet more diversified. they represented in some sense the ministry for home, military, and especially for foreign affairs. it is impossible to give any full account of machiavelli's official duties. he wrote many thousands of despatches and official letters, which are still preserved. he was on constant errands of state through the florentine dominions. but his diplomatic missions and what he learned by them make the main interest of his office. his first adventure of importance was to the court of caterina sforza, the lady of forlì, in which matter that astute countess entirely bested the teacher of all diplomatists to be. in he smelt powder at the siege at pisa, and was sent to france to allay the irritations of louis xii. many similar and lesser missions follow. the results are in no case of great importance, but the opportunities to the secretary of learning men and things, intrigue and policy, the court and the gutter were invaluable. at the camp of cæsar borgia, in , he found in his host that fantastic hero whom he incarnated in _the prince_, and he was practically an eye-witness of the amazing masterpiece, the massacre of sinigaglia. the next year he is sent to rome with a watching brief at the election of julius ii., and in is again sent to negotiate with the pope. an embassy to the emperor maximilian, a second mission to the french king at blois, in which he persuades louis xii. to postpone the threatened general council of the church ( ), and constant expeditions to report upon and set in order unrestful towns and provinces did not fulfil his activity. his pen was never idle. reports, despatches, elaborate monographs on france, germany, or wherever he might be, and personal letters innumerable, and even yet unpublished, ceased not night nor day. detail, wit, character-drawing, satire, sorrow, bitterness, all take their turn. but this was only a fraction of his work. by duty and by expediency he was bound to follow closely the internal politics of florence where his enemies and rivals abounded. and in all these years he was pushing forward and carrying through with unceasing and unspeakable vigour the great military dream of his life, the foundation of a national militia and the extinction of mercenary companies. but the fabric he had fancied and thought to have built proved unsubstantial. the spoilt half-mutinous levies whom he had spent years in odious and unwilling training failed him at the crowning moment in strength and spirit: and the fall of the republic implied the fall of machiavelli and the close of his official life. he struggled hard to save himself, but the wealthy classes were against him, perhaps afraid of him, and on them the medici relied. for a year he was forbidden to leave florentine territory, and for a while was excluded from the palazzo. later his name was found in a list of anti-medicean conspirators. he was arrested and decorously tortured with six turns of the rack, and then liberated for want of evidence. [sidenote: after his fall.] for perhaps a year after his release the secretary engaged in a series of tortuous intrigues to gain the favour of the medici. many of the stories may be exaggerated, but none make pleasant reading, and nothing proved successful. his position was miserable. temporarily crippled by torture, out of favour with the government, shunned by his friends, in deep poverty, burdened with debt and with a wife and four children, his material circumstances were ill enough. but, worse still, he was idle. he had deserved well of the republic, and had never despaired of it, and this was his reward. he seemed to himself a broken man. he had no great natural dignity, no great moral strength. he profoundly loved and admired dante, but he could not for one moment imitate him. he sought satisfaction in sensuality of life and writing, but found no comfort. great things were stirring in the world and he had neither part nor lot in them. by great good fortune he began a correspondence with his friend francesco vettori, the medicean ambassador at rome, to whom he appeals for his good offices: 'and if nothing can be done, i must live as i came into the world, for i was born poor and learnt to want before learning to enjoy.' before long these two diplomats had co-opted themselves into a kind of secret cabinet of europe. it is a strange but profoundly interesting correspondence, both politically and personally. nothing is too great or too small, too glorious or too mean for their pens. amid foolish anecdotes and rather sordid love affairs the politics of europe, and especially of italy, are dissected and discussed. leo x. had now plunged into political intrigue. ferdinand of spain was in difficulty. france had allied herself with venice. the swiss are the ancient romans, and may conquer italy. then back again, or rather constant throughout, the love intrigues and the 'likely wench hard-by who may help to pass our time.' but through it all there is an ache at machiavelli's heart, and on a sudden he will break down, crying, però se aleuna volta io rido e canto facciol, perchè non ho se non quest' una via da sfogare il mio angoscioso pianto. vettori promised much, but nothing came of it. by the correspondence died away, and the ex-secretary found for himself at last the true pathway through his vale of years. [sidenote: the true life.] the remainder of machiavelli's life is bounded by his books. he settled at his villa at san casciano, where he spent his day as he describes in the letter quoted at the beginning of this essay. in he began to attend the meetings of the literary club in the orti oricellarii, and made new and remarkable friends. 'era amato grandamente da loro ... e della sua conversazione si dilettavano maravigliosamente, tenendo in prezzo grandissimo tutte l'opere sue,' which shows the personal authority he exercised. occasionally he was employed by florentine merchants to negotiate for them at venice, genoa, lucca, and other places. in cardinal medici deigned to consult him as to the government, and commissioned him to write the history of florence. but in the main he wrote his books and lived the daily life we know. in he went to rome to present his history to clement vii., and was sent on to guicciardini. in he was busy once more with military matters and the fortification of florence. on the nd of june he died at florence immediately after the establishment of the second republic. he had lived as a practising christian, and so died, surrounded by his wife and family. wild legends grew about his death, but have no foundation. a peasant clod in san casciano could not have made a simpler end. he was buried in the family chapel in santa croce, and a monument was there at last erected with the epitaph by doctor ferroni--'tanto nomini nullum par elogium.' the first edition of his complete works was published in , and was dedicated to lord cowper. [sidenote: his character.] what manner of man was machiavelli at home and in the market-place? it is hard to say. there are doubtful busts, the best, perhaps, that engraved in the 'testina' edition of , so-called on account of the portrait. 'of middle height, slender figure, with sparkling eyes, dark hair, rather a small head, a slightly aquiline nose, a tightly closed mouth: all about him bore the impress of a very acute observer and thinker, but not that of one able to wield much influence over others.' such is a reconstruction of him by one best able to make one. 'in his conversation,' says varchi, 'machiavelli was pleasant, serviceable to his friends, a friend of virtuous men, and, in a word, worthy to have received from nature either less genius or a better mind.' if not much above the moral standard of the day he was certainly not below it. his habits were loose and his language lucid and licentious. but there is no bad or even unkind act charged against him. to his honesty and good faith he very fairly claims that his poverty bears witness. he was a kind, if uncertain, husband and a devoted father. his letters to his children are charming. here is one written soon before his death to his little son guido.--'guido, my darling son, i received a letter of thine and was delighted with it, particularly because you tell me of your full recovery, the best news i could have. if god grants life to us both i expect to make a good man of you, only you must do your fair share yourself.' guido is to stick to his books and music, and if the family mule is too fractious, 'unbridle him, take off the halter and turn him loose at montepulciano. the farm is large, the mule is small, so no harm can come of it. tell your mother, with my love, not to be nervous. i shall surely be home before any trouble comes. give a kiss to baccina, piero, and totto: i wish i knew his eyes were getting well. be happy and spend as little as you may. christ have you in his keeping.'--there is nothing exquisite or divinely delicate in this letter, but there are many such, and they were not written by a bad man, any more than the answers they evoke were addressed to one. there is little more save of a like character that is known of machiavelli the man. but to judge him and his work we must have some knowledge of the world in which he was to move and have his being. * * * * * [sidenote: state of italy.] at the beginning of the sixteenth century italy was rotten to the core. in the close competition of great wickedness the vicar of christ easily carried off the palm, and the court of alexander vi. was probably the wickedest meeting-place of men that has ever existed upon earth. no virtue, christian or pagan, was there to be found; little art that was not sensuous or sensual. it seemed as if bacchus and venus and priapus had come to their own again, and yet rome had not ceased to call herself christian. [sidenote: superstition.] 'owing to the evil ensample of the papal court,' writes machiavelli, 'italy has lost all piety and all religion: whence follow infinite troubles and disorders; for as religion implies all good, so its absence implies the contrary. to the church and priests of rome we owe another even greater disaster which is the cause of her ruin. i mean that the church has maintained, and still maintains italy divided.' the papacy is too weak to unite and rule, but strong enough to prevent others doing so, and is always ready to call in the foreigner to crush all italians to the foreigner's profit, and guicciardini, a high papal officer, commenting on this, adds, 'it would be impossible to speak so ill of the roman court, but that more abuse should not be merited, seeing it is an infamy, and example of all the shames and scandals of the world.' the lesser clergy, the monks, the nuns followed, with anxious fidelity, the footsteps of their shepherds. there was hardly a tonsure in italy which covered more than thoughts and hopes of lust and avarice. religion and morals which god had joined together, were set by man a thousand leagues asunder. yet religion still sat upon the alabaster throne of peter, and in the filthy straw of the meanest calabrian confessional. and still deeper remained a blind devoted superstition. vitellozzo vitelli, as machiavelli tells us, while being strangled by cæesar borgia's assassin, implored his murderer to procure for him the absolution of that murderer's father. gianpaolo baglioni, who reigned by parricide and lived in incest, was severely blamed by the florentines for not killing pope julius ii. when the latter was his guest at perugia. and when gabrino fondato, the tyrant of cremona, was on the scaffold, his only regret was that when he had taken his guests, the pope and emperor, to the top of the cremona tower, four hundred feet high, his nerve failed him and he did not push them both over. upon this anarchy of religion, morals, and conduct breathed suddenly the inspiring breath of pagan antiquity which seemed to the italian mind to find its finest climax in tyrannicide. there is no better instance than in the plot of the pazzi at florence. francesco pazzi and bernardo bandini decided to kill lorenzo and giuliano de' medici in the cathedral at the moment of the elevation of the host. they naturally took the priest into their confidence. they escorted giuliano to the duomo, laughing and talking, and playfully embraced him--to discover if he wore armour under his clothes. then they killed him at the moment appointed. [sidenote: pagan influence.] nor were there any hills from which salvation might be looked for. philosophy, poetry, science, expressed themselves in terms of materialism. faith and hope are ever the last survivors in the life of a man or of a nation. but in italy these brave comforters were at their latest breath. it is perhaps unfair to accept in full the judgment of northern travellers. the conditions, training, needs of england and germany were different. in these countries courage was a necessity, and good faith a paying policy. subtlety could do little against a two-handed sword in the hands of an angry or partially intoxicated giant. climate played its part as well as culture, and the crude pleasures and vices of the north seemed fully as loathsome to the refined italian as did the tortuous policy and the elaborate infamies of the south to their rough invaders. alone, perhaps, among the nations of europe the italians had never understood or practised chivalry, save in such select and exotic schools as the casa gioiosa under vittorino da feltre at mantua. the oath of arthur's knights would have seemed to them mere superfluity of silliness. _onore_ connoted credit, reputation, and prowess. _virtù_, which may be roughly translated as mental ability combined with personal daring, set the standard and ruled opinion. 'honour in the north was subjective: _onore_ in italy objective.' individual liberty, indeed, was granted in full to all, at the individual's risk. the love of beauty curbed grossness and added distinction. fraud became an art and force a science. there is liberty for all, but for the great ones there is licence. and when the day of trial comes, it is the churchmen and the princes who can save neither themselves nor man, nor thing that is theirs. to such a world was machiavelli born. to whom should he turn? to the people? to the church? to the princes and despots? but hear him:-- 'there shall never be found any good mason, which will beleeve to be able to make a faire image of a peece of marble ill hewed, but verye well of a rude peece. our italian princes beleeved, before they tasted the blowes of the outlandish warre, that it should suffice a prince to know by writinges, how to make a subtell aunswere, to write a goodly letter, to shewe in sayinges, and in woordes, witte and promptenesse, to know how to canvas a fraude, to decke themselves with precious stones and gold, to sleepe and to eate with greater glory then other: to kepe many lascivious persons about them, to governe themselves with their subjects, covetously and proudely: to roote in idlenes, to give the degrees of the exercise of warre for good will, to dispise if any should have shewed them any laudable waie, minding that their wordes should bee aunswers of oracles: nor the sely wretches were not aware that they prepared themselves to be a pray to whome so ever should assaulte them. hereby grew then in the thousand fowre hundred and nintie and fowre yere, the great feares, the sodaine flightes and the marveilous losses: and so three most mighty states which were in italie, have bene dievers times sacked and destroyed. but that which is worse, is where those that remaine, continue in the very same errour, and liev in the verie same disorder and consider not, that those who in olde time would keepe their states, caused to be done these thinges, which of me hath beene reasoned, and that their studies were, to prepare the body to diseases, and the minde not to feare perills. whereby grewe that cæsar, alexander, and all those men and excellent princes in olde time, were the formost amongst the fighters, going armed on foote: and if they lost their state, they would loose their life, so that they lievd and died vertuously.' such was the clay that waited the moulding of the potter's hand. 'posterity, that high court of appeal, which is never tired of eulogising its own justice and discernment,' has recorded harsh sentence on the florentine. it is better to-day to let him speak for himself. [sidenote: _the prince_.] the slender volume of _the prince_ has probably produced wider discussion, more bitter controversy, more varied interpretations and a deeper influence than any book save holy writ. kings and statesmen, philosophers and theologians, monarchists and republicans have all and always used or abused it for their purposes. written in , the first year of machiavelli's disgrace, concurrently with part of the _discorsi_, which contain the germs of it, the book represents the fulness of its author's thought and experience. it was not till after machiavelli's death, that it was published in , by order of clement vii. meanwhile, however, in manuscript it had been widely read and favourably received. [sidenote: its purpose.] the mere motive of its creation and dedication has been the theme of many volumes. machiavelli was poor, was idle, was out of favour, and therefore, though a republican, wrote a devilish hand-book of tyranny to strengthen the medici and recover his position. machiavelli, a loyal republican, wrote a primer of such fiendish principles as might lure the medici to their ruin. machiavelli's one idea was to ruin the rich: machiavelli's one idea was to oppress the poor: he was a protestant, a jesuit, an atheist: a royalist and a republican. and the book published by one pope's express authority was utterly condemned and forbidden, with all its author's works, by the express command of another ( ). but before facing the whirlwind of savage controversy which raged and rages still about _the prince_, it may be well to consider shortly the book itself--consider it as a new book and without prejudice. the purpose of its composition is almost certainly to be found in the plain fact that machiavelli, a politician and a man of letters, wished to write a book upon the subject which had been his special study and lay nearest to his business and bosom. to ensure prominence for such a book, to engage attention and incidentally perhaps to obtain political employment for himself, he dedicated it to lorenzo de' medici, the existing and accepted chief of the state. but far and above such lighter motives stood the fact that he saw in lorenzo the only man who might conceivably bring to being the vast dream of patriotism which the writer had imagined. the subject he proposed to himself was largely, though not wholly, conditioned by the time and place in which he lived. he wrote for his countrymen and he wrote for his own generation. he had heard with his ears and seen with his eyes the alternate rending anarchy and moaning paralysis of italy. he had seen what agricola had long before been spared the sight of. and what he saw, he saw not through a glass darkly or distorted, but in the whitest, driest light, without flinching and face to face. 'we are much beholden,' writes bacon, 'to machiavelli and others that wrote what men do, and not what they ought to do.' he did not despair of italy, he did not despair even of italian unity. but he despaired of what he saw around him, and he was willing at almost any price to end it. he recognised, despite the nominal example of venice, that a republican system was impossible, and that the small principalities and free cities were corrupt beyond hope of healing. a strong central unifying government was imperative, and at that day such government could only be vested in a single man. for it must ever be closely remembered, as will be pointed out again, that throughout the book the prince is what would now be called the government. and then he saw with faithful prophecy, in the splendid peroration of his hope, a hope deferred for near four hundred years, he saw beyond the painful paths of blood and tyranny, a vision of deliverance and union. for at least it is plain that in all things machiavelli was a passionate patriot, and _amo la patria mia più dell' anima_ is found in one of the last of many thousand letters that his untiring pen had written. the purpose, then, of _the prince_ is to lay down rules, within the possibilities of the time, for the making of a man who shall create, increase, and maintain a strong and stable government. this is done in the main by a plain presentation of facts, a presentation condensed and critical but based on men and things as they actually were. the ethical side is wholly omitted: the social and economical almost entirely. the aspect is purely political, with the underlying thought, it may be supposed, that under the postulated government, all else will prosper. [sidenote: the book; new states.] machiavelli opens by discussing the various forms of governments, which he divides into republics and principalities. of the latter some may be hereditary and some acquired. of hereditary states he says little and quotes but one, the duchy of ferrara. he then turns to his true subject, the acquisition and preservation of states wholly new or new in part, states such as he saw himself on every side around him. having gained possession of a new state, he says, you must first extirpate the family of your predecessor. you should then either reside or plant colonies, but not trust to garrisons. 'colonies are not costly to the prince, are more faithful and cause less offence to the subject states: those whom they may injure being poor and scattered, are prevented from doing mischief. for it should be observed that men ought either to be caressed or trampled out, seeing that small injuries may be avenged, whereas great ones destroy the possibility of retaliation: and so the damage that has to be inflicted ought to be such that it need involve no fear of reprisals.' there is perhaps in all machiavelli no better example of his lucid scientific method than this passage. there is neither excuse nor hypocrisy. it is merely a matter of business calculation. mankind is the raw material, the state is the finished work. further you are to conciliate your neighbours who are weak and abase the strong, and you must not let the stranger within your gates. above all look before as well as after and think not to leave it to time, _godere li benefici del tempo_, but, as did the romans, strike and strike at once. for illustration he criticises, in a final and damning analysis, the career of louis xii. in italy. there was no canon of statecraft so absolute that the king did not ignore it, and in inevitable nemesis, there was no ultimate disaster so crowning as not to be achieved. [sidenote: conquests.] after observing that a feudal monarchy is much less easy of conquest than a despotism, since in the one case you must vanquish many lesser lordships while in the other you merely replace slaves by slaves, machiavelli considers the best method of subjugating free cities. here again is eminent the terrible composure and the exact truth of his politics. a conquered free city you may of course rule in person, or you may construct an oligarchy to govern for you, but the only safe way is to destroy it utterly, since 'that name of liberty, those ancient usages of freedom,' are things 'which no length of years and no benefits can extinguish in the nation's mind, things which no pains or forethought can uproot unless the citizens be utterly destroyed.' hitherto the discussion has ranged round the material politics of the matter, the acquisition of material power. machiavelli now turns to the heart of his matter, the proper character and conduct of a new prince in a new principality and the ways by which he shall deal most fortunately with friend and foe. for fortune it is, as well as ability, which go to the making of the man and the maintenance of his power. [sidenote: cæsar borgia.] in the manner of the day moses, cyrus, romulus, and theseus are led across the stage in illustration. the common attribute of all such fortunate masters of men was force of arms, while the mission of an unarmed prophet such as savonarola was foredoomed to failure. in such politics machiavelli is positive and ruthless: force is and must be the remedy and the last appeal, a principle which indeed no later generation has in practice set at naught. but in the hard dry eyes of the florentine secretary stood, above all others, one shining figure, a figure to all other eyes, from then till now, wrapped in mysterious and miasmatic cloud. in the pages of common history he was a tyrant, he was vicious beyond compare, he was cruel beyond the inquisition, he was false beyond the father of lies, he was the antichrist of rome and he was a failure: but he was the hero of niccolò machiavelli, who, indeed, found in cæsar borgia the fine flower of italian politics in the age of the despots. son of the pope, a prince of the church, a duke of france, a master of events, a born soldier, diplomatist, and more than half a statesman, cæsar seemed indeed the darling of gods and men whom original fortune had crowned with inborn ability. machiavelli knew him as well as it was possible to know a soul so tortuous and secret, and he had been present at the most critical and terrible moments of cæsar's life. that in despite of a life which the world calls infamous, in despite of the howling execrations of all christendom, in despite of ultimate and entire failures, machiavelli could still write years after, 'i know not what lessons i could teach a new prince more useful than the example of his actions,' exhibits the ineffaceable impressions that cæsar borgia had made upon the most subtle and observant mind of modern history. [sidenote: cæsar's career.] cæsar was the acknowledged son of pope alexander by his acknowledged mistress vannozza dei cattani. born in , he was an archbishop and a cardinal at sixteen, and the murderer of his elder brother at an age when modern youths are at college. he played his part to the full in the unspeakable scandals of the vatican, but already 'he spoke little and people feared him.' ere long the splendours of the papacy seemed too remote and uncertain for his fierce ambition, and, indeed, through his father, he already wielded both the temporal and the spiritual arms of peter. to the subtlety of the italian his spanish blood had lent a certain stern resolution, and as with julius and sulla the lust for sloth and sensuality were quickened by the lust for sway. he unfrocked himself with pleasure. he commenced politician, soldier, and despot. and for the five years preceding alexander's death he may almost be looked upon as a power in europe. invested duke of romagna, that hot-bed of petty tyranny and tumult, he repressed disorder through his governor messer ramiro with a relentless hand. when order reigned, machiavelli tells us he walked out one morning into the market-place at cesena and saw the body of ramiro, who had borne the odium of reform, lying in two pieces with his head on a lance, and a bloody axe by his side. cæsar reaped the harvest of ramiro's severity, and the people recognising his benevolence and justice were 'astounded and satisfied.' but the gaze of the borgia was not bounded by the strait limits of a mere italian duchy. whether indeed there mingled with personal ambition an ideal of a united italy, swept clean of the barbarians, it is hard to say, though machiavelli would have us believe it. what is certain is that he desired the supreme dominion in italy for himself, and to win it spared neither force nor fraud nor the help of the very barbarians themselves. with a decree of divorce and a cardinal's hat he gained the support of france, the french duchy of valentinois, and the sister of the king of navarre to wife. by largesse of bribery and hollow promises he brought to his side the great families of rome, his natural enemies, and the great condottieri with their men-at-arms. when by their aid he had established and extended his government he mistrusted their good faith. with an infinity of fascination and cunning, without haste and without rest, he lured these leaders, almost more cunning than himself, to visit him as friends in his fortress of sinigaglia. 'i doubt if they will be alive to-morrow morning,' wrote machiavelli, who was on the spot. he was right. cæsar caused them to be strangled the same night, while his father dealt equal measure to their colleagues and adherents in rome. thenceforth, distrusting mercenaries, he found and disciplined out of a mere rabble, a devoted army of his own, and having unobtrusively but completely extirpated the whole families of those whose thrones he had usurped, not only the present but the future seemed assured to him. he had fulfilled the first of machiavelli's four conditions. he rapidly achieved the remaining three. he bought the roman nobles so as to be able to put a bridle in the new 'pope's mouth.' he bought or poisoned or packed or terrorised the existing college of cardinals and selected new princes of the church who should accept a pontiff of his choosing. he was effectively strong enough to resist the first onset upon him at his father's death. five years had been enough for so great an undertaking. one thing alone he had not and indeed could not have foreseen. 'he told me himself on the day on which (pope) julius was created, that he had foreseen and provided for everything else that could happen on his father's death, but had never anticipated that, when his father died, he too should have been at death's door.' even so the fame and splendour of his name for a while maintained his authority against his unnumbered enemies. but soon the great betrayer was betrayed. 'it is well to cheat those who have been masters of treachery,' he had said himself in his hours of brief authority. his wheel had turned full cycle. within three years his fate, like that of charles xii., was destined to a foreign strand, a petty fortress, and a dubious hand. given over to spain he passed three years obscurely. 'he was struck down in a fight at viana in navarre ( ) after a furious resistance: he was stripped of his fine armour by men who did not know his name or quality and his body was left naked on the bare ground, bloody and riddled with wounds. he was only thirty-one.' and so the star of machiavelli's hopes and dreams was quenched for a season in the clouds from which it came. [sidenote: the lesson.] it seems worth while to sketch the strange tempestuous career of cæsar borgia because in the remaining chapters of _the prince_ and elsewhere in his writings, it is the thought and memory of valentinois, transmuted doubtless and idealised by the lapse of years, that largely inform and inspire the perfect prince of machiavelli. but it must not be supposed that in life or in mind they were intimate or even sympathetic. machiavelli criticises his hero liberally and even harshly. but for the work he wanted done he had found no better craftsman and no better example to follow for those that might come after. morals and religion did not touch the purpose of his arguments except as affecting policy. in policy virtues may be admitted as useful agents and in the chapter following that on cæsar, entitled, curiously enough, 'of those who by their crimes come to be princes,' he lays down that 'to slaughter fellow citizens, to betray friends, to be devoid of honour, pity and religion cannot be counted as merits, for these are means which may lead to power but which confer no glory.' cruelty he would employ without hesitation but with the greatest care both in degree and in kind. it should be immediate and complete and leave no possibility of counter-revenge. for it is never forgotten by the living, and 'he deceives himself who believes that, with the great, recent benefits cause old wrongs to be forgotten.' on the other hand 'benefits should be conferred little by little so that they may be more fully relished.' the cruelty proper to a prince (government, for as ever they are identical) aims only at authority. now authority must spring from love or fear. it were best to combine both motives to obedience but you cannot. the prince must remember that men are fickle, and love at their own pleasure, and that men are fearful and fear at the pleasure of the prince. let him therefore depend on what is of himself, not on that which is of others. 'yet if he win not love he may escape hate, and so it will be if he does not meddle with the property or women-folk of his subjects.' when he must punish let him kill. 'for men will sooner forget the death of their father than the loss of their estate.' and moreover you cannot always go on killing, but a prince who has once set himself to plundering will never stop. this is the more needful because the only secure foundation of his rule lies in his trust of the people and in their support. and indeed again and again you shall find no more thorough democrat than this teacher of tyrants. 'the people own better broader qualities, fidelities and passions than any prince and have better cause to show for them.' 'as for prudence and stability, i say that a people is more stable, more prudent, and of better judgment than a prince.' if the people go wrong it is almost certainly the crime or negligence of the prince which drives or leads them astray. 'better far than any number of fortresses is not to be hated by your people.' the support of the people and a national militia make the essential strength of the prince and of the state. [sidenote: national defence.] the chapters on military organisation may be more conveniently considered in conjunction with _the art of war_. it is enough at present to point out two or three observations of machiavelli which touch politics from the military side. to his generation they were entirely novel, though mere commonplace to-day. national strength means national stability and national greatness; and this can be achieved, and can only be achieved, by a national army. the condottiere system, born of sloth and luxury, has proved its rottenness. your hired general is either a tyrant or a traitor, a bully or a coward. 'in a word the armour of others is too wide or too strait for us: it falls off us, or it weighs us down.' and in a fine illustration he compares auxiliary troops to the armour of saul which david refused, preferring to fight goliath with his sling and stone. [sidenote: conduct of the prince.] having assured the external security of the state, machiavelli turns once more to the qualities and conduct of the prince. so closely packed are these concluding chapters that it is almost impossible to compress them further. the author at the outset states his purpose: 'since it is my object to write what shall be useful to whosoever understands it, it seems to me better to follow the practical truth of things rather than an imaginary view of them. for many republics and princedoms have been imagined that were never seen or known to exist in reality. and the manner in which we live and in which we ought to live, are things so wide asunder that he who suits the one to betake himself to the other is more likely to destroy than to save himself.' nothing that machiavelli wrote is more sincere, analytic, positive and ruthless. he operates unflinchingly on an assured diagnosis. the hand never an instant falters, the knife is never blunt. he deals with what is, and not with what ought to be. should the prince be all-virtuous, all-liberal, all-humane? should his word be his bond for ever? should true religion be the master-passion of his life? machiavelli considers. the first duty of the prince (or government) is to maintain the existence, stability, and prosperity of the state. now if all the world were perfect so should the prince be perfect too. but such are not the conditions of human life. an idealising prince must fall before a practising world. a prince must learn in self-defence how to be bad, but like cæsar borgia, he must be a great judge of occasion. and what evil he does must be deliberate, appropriate, and calculated, and done, not selfishly, but for the good of the state of which he is trustee. there is the power of law and the power of force. the first is proper to men, the second to beasts. and that is why achilles was brought up by cheiron the centaur that he might learn to use both natures. a ruler must be half lion and half fox, a fox to discern the toils, a lion to drive off the wolves. merciful, faithful, humane, religious, just, these he may be and above all should seem to be, nor should any word escape his lips to give the lie to his professions: and in fact he should not leave these qualities but when he must. he should, if possible, practise goodness, but under necessity should know how to pursue evil. he should keep faith until occasion alter, or reason of state compel him to break his pledge. above all he should profess and observe religion, 'because men in general judge rather by the eye than by the hand, and every one can see but few can touch.' but none the less, must he learn (as did william the silent, elizabeth of england, and henry of navarre) how to subordinate creed to policy when urgent need is upon him. in a word, he must realise and face his own position, and the facts of mankind and of the world. if not veracious to his conscience, he must be veracious to facts. he must not be bad for badness' sake, but seeing things as they are, must deal as he can to protect and preserve the trust committed to his care. fortune is still a fickle jade, but at least the half our will is free, and if we are bold we may master her yet. for fortune is a woman who, to be kept under, must be beaten and roughly handled, and we see that she is more ready to be mastered by those who treat her so, than by those who are shy in their wooing. and always, like a woman, she gives her favours to the young, because they are less scrupulous and fiercer and more audaciously command her to their will. [sidenote: the appeal.] and so at the last the sometime secretary of the florentine republic turns to the new master of the florentines in splendid exhortation. he points to no easy path. he proposes no mean ambition. he has said already that 'double will that prince's glory be, who has founded a new realm and fortified it and adorned it with good laws, good arms, good friends, and good examples.' but there is more and better to be done. the great misery of men has ever made the great leaders of men. but was israel in egypt, were the persians, the athenians ever more enslaved, down-trodden, disunited, beaten, despoiled, mangled, overrun and desolate than is our italy to-day? the barbarians must be hounded out, and italy be free and one. now is the accepted time. all italy is waiting and only seeks the man. to you the darling of fortune and the church this splendid task is given, to and to the army of italy and of italians only. arm italy and lead her. to you, the deliverer, what gates would be closed, what obedience refused! what jealousies opposed, what homage denied. love, courage, and fixed fidelity await you, and under your standards shall the voice of petrarch be fulfilled: virtu contro al furore prenderà l'arme e fia il combatter corto: chè l'antico valore negl' italici cor non è ancor morto. such is _the prince_ of machiavelli. the vision of its breathless exhortation seemed then as but a landscape to a blind man's eye. but the passing of three hundred and fifty years of the misery he wept for brought at the last, almost in perfect exactness, the fulfilment of that impossible prophecy. [sidenote: the attack.] there is no great book in the world of smaller compass than _the prince_ of machiavelli. there is no book more lucidly, directly, and plainly written. there is no book that has aroused more vehement, venomous, and even truculent controversy from the moment of its publication until to-day. and it is asserted with great probability that _the prince_ has had a more direct action upon real life than any other book in the world, and a larger share in breaking the chains and lighting the dark places of the middle ages. it is a truism to say that machiavellism existed before machiavelli. the politics of gian galeazzo visconti, of louis xi. of france, of ferdinand of spain, of the papacy, of venice, might have been dictated by the author of _the prince_. but machiavelli was the first to observe, to compare, to diagnose, to analyse, and to formulate their principles of government. the first to establish, not a divorce, but rather a judicial separation between the morals of a man and the morals of a government. it is around the purpose and possible results of such a separation in politics, ethics, and religion that the storm has raged most fiercely. to follow the path of that storm through near four centuries many volumes would be needed, and it will be more convenient to deal with the more general questions in summing up the influence of machiavelli as a whole. but the main lines and varying fortunes of the long campaign may be indicated. during the period of its manuscript circulation and for a few years after its publication _the prince_ was treated with favour or at worst with indifference, and the first mutterings were merely personal to the author. he was a scurvy knave and turncoat with neither bowels nor conscience, almost negligible. but still men read him, and a change in conditions brought a change in front. he had in _the prince_, above all in the _discorsi_, accused the church of having ruined italy and debauched the world. in view of the writer's growing popularity, of the reformation and the pagan renaissance, such charges could no longer be lightly set aside. the churchmen opened the main attack. amongst the leaders was cardinal pole, to whom the practical precepts of _the prince_ had been recommended in lieu of the dreams of plato, by thomas cromwell, the _malleus monachorum_ of henry viii. the catholic attack was purely theological, but before long the jesuits joined in the cry. machiavelli was burnt in effigy at ingoldstadt. he was _subdolus diabolicarum cogitationum faber_, and _irrisor et atheos_ to boot. the pope himself gave commissions to unite against him, and his books were placed on the index, together, it must be admitted, with those of boccaccio, erasmus, and savonarola so the company was goodly. but meanwhile, and perhaps in consequence, editions and translations of _the prince_ multiplied apace. the great figures of the world were absorbed by it. charles v., his son, and his courtiers studied the book. catherine de medici brought it to france. a copy of _the prince_ was found on the murdered bodies of henry iii. and henry iv. richelieu praised it. sextus v. analysed it in his own handwriting. it was read at the english court; bacon was steeped in it, and quotes or alludes to it constantly. hobbes and harrington studied it. but now another change. so then, cried innocent gentillet, the huguenot, the book is a primer of despotism and rome, and a grammar for bigots and tyrants. it doubtless is answerable for the massacre of st. bartholomew. the man is a _chien impur_. and in answer to this new huntsman the whole protestant pack crashed in pursuit. within fifty years of his death _the prince_ and machiavelli himself had become a legend and a myth, a haunting, discomforting ghost that would not be laid. machiavellism had grown to be a case of conscience both to catholic and protestant, to theologian, moralist, and philosopher. in spain the author, damned in france for his despotism and popery, was as freshly and freely damned for his civil and religious toleration. in england to the cavaliers he was an atheist, to the roundheads a jesuit. christina of sweden annotated him with enthusiasm. frederick the great published his _anti-machiavel_ brimming with indignation, though it is impossible not to wonder what would have become of prussia had not the prussian king so closely followed in practice the precepts of the florentine, above all perhaps, as voltaire observed, in the publication of the _anti-machiavel_ itself. no doubt in the eighteenth century, when monarchy was so firmly established as not to need machiavelli, kings and statesmen sought to clear kingship of the supposed stain he had besmirched them with. but their reading was as little as their misunderstanding was great, and the florentine secretary remained the mysterious necromancer. it was left for rousseau to describe the book of this 'honnête homme et bon citoyen' as 'le livre des républicains,' and for napoleon, the greatest of the author's followers if not disciples, to draw inspiration and suggestion from his florentine forerunner and to justify the murder of the due d'enghien by a quotation from _the prince_. 'mais après tout,' he said, 'un homme d'etat est-il fait pour être sensible? n'est-ce pas un personnage--complètement excentrique, toujours seul d'un côté, avec le monde de l'autre?' and again 'jugez done s'il doit s'amuser à ménager certaines convenances de sentiments si importantes pour le commun des hommes? peut-il considérer les liens du sang, les affections, les puérils ménagements de la société? et dans la situation où il se trouve, que d'actions séparées de l'ensemble et qu'on blâme, quoiqu'elles doivent contribuer au grand oeuvre que tout le monde n'aperçoit pas? ... malheureux que vous êtes! vous retiendrez vos éloges parce que vous craindrez que le mouvement de cette grande machine ne fasse sur vous l'effet de gulliver, qui, lorsqu'il déplaçait sa jambe, écrasait les lilliputiens. exhortez-vous, devancez le temps, agrandissez votre imagination, regardez de loin, et vous verrez que ces grands personnages que vous croyez violents, cruels, que sais-je? ne sont que des politiques. ils se connaissent, se jugent mieux que vous, et, quand ils sont réellement habiles, ils savent se rendre maîtres de leurs passions car ils vont jusqu'à en calculer les effets.' even in his carriage at waterloo was found a french translation of _the prince_ profusely annotated. [sidenote: the defence.] but from the first the defence was neither idle nor weak. the assault was on the morals of the man: the fortress held for the ideas of the thinker. he does not treat of morals, therefore he is immoral, cried the plaintiff. has he spoken truth or falsehood? is his word the truth and will his truth prevail? was the rejoinder. in germany and italy especially and in france and england in less degree, philosophers and critics have argued and written without stint and without cease. as history has grown wider and more scientific so has the preponderance of opinion leaned to the florentine's favour. it would be impossible to recapitulate the arguments or even to indicate the varying points of view. and indeed the main hindrance in forming a just idea of _the prince_ is the constant treatment of a single side of the book and the preconceived intent of the critic. bacon has already been mentioned. among later names are hobbes, spinoza, leibnitz. herder gives qualified approval, while fichte frankly throws down the glove as _the prince's_ champion. 'da man weiss dass politische machtfragen nie, am wenigsten in einem verderbten volke, mit den mitteln der moral zu lösen sind, so ist es unverständig das buch von fürsten zu verschreien. macchiavelli hatte einen herrscher zu schildern, keinen klosterbruder.' the last sentence may at least be accepted as a last word by practical politicians. ranke and macaulay, and a host of competent germans and italians have lent their thought and pens to solve the riddle in the florentine's favour. and lastly, the course of political events in europe have seemed to many the final justification of the teaching of _the prince_. the leaders of the risorgimento thought that they found in letters, 'writ with a stiletto,' not only the inspirations of patriotism and the aspirations to unity, but a sure and trusted guide to the achievement. germany recognised in the author a schoolmaster to lead them to unification, and a military instructor to teach them of an armed people. half europe snatched at the principle of nationality. for in _the prince_, machiavelli not only begat ideas but fertilised the ideas of others, and whatever the future estimation of the book may be, it stands, read or unread, as a most potent, if not as the dominant, factor in european politics for four hundred years. [sidenote: the _discorsi_.] the _discorsi_, printed in rome by blado, , are not included in the present edition, as the first english translation did not appear until , when almost the entire works of machiavelli were published by an anonymous translator in london. but some account and consideration of their contents is imperative to any review of the florentine's political thoughts. such discorsi and relazioni were not uncommon at the time. the stronger and younger minds of the renaissance wearied of discussing in the lovely gardens of the rucellai the ideas of plato or the allegories of plotinus. the politics of aristotle had just been intelligibly translated by leonardo bruni ( ). and to-day the young ears and eyes of florence were alert for an impulse to action. they saw glimpses, in reopened fields of history, of quarries long grown over where the ore of positive politics lay hid. the men who came to-day to the orti oricellarii were men versed in public affairs, men of letters, historians, poets, living greatly in a great age, with raphael, michael angelo, ariosto, leonardo going up and down amongst them. machiavelli was now in fair favour with the medici, and is described by strozzi as _una persona per sorgere_ (a rising man). he was welcomed into the group with enthusiasm, and there read and discussed the _discorsi_. nominally mere considerations upon the first decade of livy, they rapidly encircled all that was known and thought of policy and state-craft, old and living. [sidenote: their plan.] written concurrently with _the prince_, though completed later, the _discorsi_ contain almost the whole of the thoughts and intents of the more famous book, but with a slightly different application. '_the prince_ traces the progress of an ambitious man, the _discorsi_ the progress of an ambitious people,' is an apt if inadequate criticism. machiavelli was not the first italian who thought and wrote upon the problems of his time. but he was the first who discussed grave questions in modern language. he was the first modern political writer who wrote of men and not of man, for the prince himself is a collective individuality. 'this must be regarded as a general rule,' is ever in machiavelli's mouth, while guicciardini finds no value in a general rule, but only in 'long experience and worthy discretion.' the one treated of policy, the other of politics. guicciardini considered specifically by what methods to control and arrange an existing government. machiavelli sought to create a science, which should show how to establish, maintain, and hinder the decline of states generally conceived. even cavour counted the former as a more practical guide in affairs. but machiavelli was the theorist of humanity in politics, not the observer only. he distinguished the two orders of research. and, during the italian renaissance such distinction was supremely necessary. with a crumbled theology, a pagan pope, amid the wreck of laws and the confusion of social order, _il sue particolare_ and _virtù_, individuality and ability (energy, political genius, prowess, vital force: _virtù_ is impossible to translate, and only does not mean virtue), were the dominating and unrelenting factors of life. niccolò machiavelli, unlike montesquieu, agreed with martin luther that man was bad. it was for both the wittenberger and the florentine, in their very separate ways, to found the school and wield the scourge. in the naked and unashamed candour of the time guicciardini could say that he loathed the papacy and all its works. 'for all that, he adds, 'the preferments i have enjoyed, have forced me for my private ends to set my heart upon papal greatness. were it not for this consideration, i should love martin luther as my second self.' in the _discorsi_, machiavelli bitterly arraigns the church as having 'deprived italians of religion and liberty.' he utterly condemns savonarolà, yet he could love and learn from dante, and might almost have said with pym, 'the greatest liberty of the kingdom is religion. thereby we are freed from spiritual evils, and no impositions are so grievous as those that are laid upon the soul.' [sidenote: religion.] the florentine postulates religion as an essential element in a strong and stable state. perhaps, with gibbon, he deemed it useful to the magistrate. but his science is impersonal. he will not tolerate a church that poaches on his political preserves. good dogma makes bad politics. it must not tamper with liberty or security. and most certainly, with dante, in the _paradiso_, he would either have transformed or omitted the third beatitude, that the meek shall inherit the earth. with such a temperament, machiavelli must ever keep touch with sanity. it was not for him as for aristotle to imagine what an ideal state should be, but rather to inquire what states actually were and what they might actually become. he seeks first and foremost 'the use that may be derived from history in politics'; not from its incidents but from its general principles. his darling model of a state is to be found where dante found it, in the roman republic. the memory and even the substance of dante occur again and again. but dante's inspiration was spiritual: machiavelli's frankly pagan, and with the latter fortune takes the place of god. dante did not love the papacy, but machiavelli, pointing out how even in ancient rome religion was politic or utilitarian, leads up to his famous attack upon the roman church, to which he attributes all the shame and losses, political, social, moral, national, that italy has suffered at her hands. and now for the first time the necessity for italian unity is laid plainly down, and the church and its temporal power denounced as the central obstacles. in religion itself the secretary saw much merit. 'but when it is an absolute question of the welfare of our country, then justice or injustice, mercy or cruelty, praise or ignominy, must be set aside, and we must seek alone whatever course may preserve the existence and liberty of the state.' throughout the _discorsi_, machiavelli in a looser and more expansive form, suggests, discusses, or re-affirms the ideas of _the prince_. there is the same absence of judgment on the moral value of individual conduct; the same keen decision of its practical effect as a political act. but here more than in _the prince_, he deals with the action and conduct of the people. with his passion for personal and contemporary incarnation he finds in the swiss of his day the romans of republican rome, and reiterates the comparison in detail. feudalism, mercenaries, political associations embodied in arts and guilds, the temporal power of the church, all these are put away, and in their stead he announces the new and daring gospel that for organic unity subjects must be treated as equals and not as inferiors. 'trust the people' is a maxim he repeats and enforces again and again. and he does not shrink from, but rather urges the corollary, 'arm the people.' indeed it were no audacious paradox to state the ideal of machiavelli, though he nominally preferred a republic, as a limited monarchy, ruling over a nation in arms. no doubt he sought, as was natural enough in his day, to construct the state from without rather than to guide and encourage its evolution from within. it seemed to him that, in such an ocean of corruption, force _was_ a remedy and fraud no sluttish handmaid. 'vice n'est-ce pas,' writes montaigne, of such violent acts of government, 'car il a quitté sa raison à une plus universelle et puissante raison.' even so the prince and the people could only be justified by results. but the public life is of larger value than the private, and sometimes one man must be crucified for a thousand. despite all prejudice and make-belief, such a rule and practice has obtained from the assemblies of athens to the parliaments of the twentieth century. but machiavelli first candidly imparted it to the unwilling consciences and brains of men, and it is he who has been the chosen scape-goat to carry the sins of the people. his earnestness makes him belie his own precept to keep the name and take away the thing. in this, as in a thousand instances, he was not too darkly hidden; he was too plain. 'machiavelli,' says one who studied the florentine as hardly another had done, 'machiavelli hat gesündigt, aber noch mehr ist gegen ihn gesündigt worden.' liberty is good, but unity is its only sure foundation. it is the way to the unity of government and people that the thoughts both of _the prince_ and the _discorsi_ lead, though the incidents be so nakedly presented as to shock the timorous and vex the prurient, the puritan, and the evil thinker. the people must obey the state and fight and die for its salvation, and for the prince the hatred of the subjects is never good, but their love, and the best way to gain it is by 'not interrupting the subject in the quiet enjoyment of his estate.' even so bland and gentle a spirit as the poet gray cannot but comment, 'i rejoice when i see machiavelli defended or illustrated, who to me appears one of the wisest men that any nation in any age hath produced.' [sidenote: the art of war.] throughout both _the prince_ and the _discorsi_ are constant allusions to, and often long discussions on, military affairs. the army profoundly interested machiavelli both as a primary condition of national existence and stability, and also, as he pondered upon the contrast between ancient rome and the florence that he lived in, as a subject fascinating in itself. his _art of war_ was probably published in . before that date the florentine secretary had had some personal touch both with the theory and practice of war. as a responsible official in the camp before pisa he had seen both siege work and fighting. having lost faith in mercenary forces he made immense attempts to form a national militia, and was appointed chancellor of the nove della milizia. in switzerland and the tyrol he had studied army questions. he planned with pietro navarro the defence of florence and prato against charles v. at verona and mantua in , he closely studied the famous siege of padua. from birth to death war and battles raged all about him, and he had personal knowledge of the great captains of the age. moreover, he saw in italy troops of every country, of every quality, in every stage of discipline, in every manner of formation. his love of ancient rome led him naturally to the study of livy and vegetius, and from them with regard to formations, to the relative values of infantry and cavalry and other points of tactics, he drew or deduced many conclusions which hold good to-day. indeed a german staff officer has written that in reading the florentine you think you are listening to a modern theorist of war. but for the theorist of those days a lion stood in the path. the art of war was not excepted from the quick and thorough transformation that all earthly and spiritual things were undergoing. gunpowder, long invented, was being applied. armour, that, since the beginning, had saved both man and horse, had now lost the half of its virtue. the walls of fortresses, impregnable for a thousand years, became as matchwood ramparts. the mounted man-at-arms was found with wonder to be no match for the lightly-armoured but nimble foot-man. the swiss were seen to hold their own with ease against the knighthood of austria and burgundy. the free companies lost in value and prestige what they added to their corruption and treachery. all these things grew clear to machiavelli. but his almost fatal misfortune was that he observed and wrote in the mid-moment of the transition. he had no faith in fire-arms, and as regards the portable fire-arms of those days he was right. after the artillery work at ravenna, novara, and marignano it is argued that he should have known better. but he was present at no great battles, and pike, spear, and sword had been the stable weapons of four thousand years. these were indeed too simple to be largely modified, and the future of mechanisms and explosives no prophet uninspired could foresee. and indeed the armament and formation of men were not the main intent of machiavelli's thought. his care in detail, especially in fortifications, of which he made a special study, in encampments, in plans, in calculations, is immense. nothing is so trivial as to be left inexact. [sidenote: the new model.] but he centred his observation and imagination on the origin, character, and discipline of an army in being. he pictures the horror, waste, and failure of a mercenary system, and lays down the fatal error in italy of separating civil from military life, converting the latter into a trade. in such a way the soldier grows to a beast, and the citizen to a coward. all this must be changed. the basic idea of this astounding secretary is to form a national army, furnished by conscription and informed by the spirit of the new model of cromwell. all able-bodied men between the ages of seventeen and forty should be drilled on stated days and be kept in constant readiness. once or twice a year each battalion must be mobilised and manoeuvred as in time of war. the discipline must be constant and severe. the men must be not only robust and well-trained, but, above all, virtuous, modest, and disposed to any sacrifice for the public good. so imbued should they be with duty and lofty devotion to their country that though they may rightly deceive the enemy, reward the enemy's deserters and employ spies, yet 'an apple tree laden with fruit might stand untouched in the midst of their encampment.' the infantry should far exceed the cavalry, 'since it is by infantry that battles are won.' secrecy, mobility, and familiarity with the country are to be objects of special care, and positions should be chosen from which advance is safer than retreat. in war this army must be led by one single leader, and, when peace shines again, they must go back contented to their grateful fellow-countrymen and their wonted ways of living. the conception and foundation of such a scheme, at such a time, by such a man is indeed astounding. he broke with the past and with all contemporary organisations. he forecast the future of military europe, though his own italy was the last to win her redemption through his plans. 'taken all in all,' says a german military writer, 'we may recognise machiavelli in his inspired knowledge of the principles of universal military discipline as a true prophet and as one of the weightiest thinkers in the field of military construction and constitution. he penetrated the essence of military technique with a precision wholly alien to his period, and it is, so to say, a new psychological proof of the relationship between the art of war and the art of statecraft, that the founder of modern politics is also the first of modern military classics.' but woe to the florentine secretary with his thoughts born centuries before their time. as in _the prince_, so in the _art of war_, he closes with a passionate appeal of great sorrow and the smallest ray of hope. where shall i hope to find the things that i have told of? what is italy to-day? what are the italians? enervated, impotent, vile. wherefore, 'i lament mee of nature, the which either ought not to have made mee a knower of this, or it ought to have given mee power, to have bene able to have executed it: for now beeing olde, i cannot hope to have any occasion, to be able so to doo: in consideration whereof, i have bene liberall with you who beeing grave young men, may (when the thinges said of me shall please you) at due times, in favoure of your princes, helpe them and counsider them. wherin i would have you not to be afraied, or mistrustfull, because this province seemes to bee altogether given to raise up againe the things deade, as is seene by the perfection that poesie, painting, and writing, is now brought unto: albeit, as much as is looked for of mee, beeing strooken in yeeres, i do mistrust. where surely, if fortune had heretofore graunted mee so much state, as suffiseth for a like enterprise, i would not have doubted, but in most short time, to have shewed to the world, how much the auncient orders availe: and without peradventure, either i would have increased it with glory, or lost it without shame.' [sidenote: _the history of florence_.] in machiavelli was an ageing and disappointed man. he was not popular with any party, but the medici were willing to use him in minor matters if only to secure his adherence. he was commissioned by giulio de medici to write a history of florence with an annual allowance of florins. in he completed his task and dedicated the book to its begetter, pope clement vii. in the history, as in much of his other work, machiavelli enriches the science of humanity with a new department. 'he was the first to contemplate the life of a nation in its continuity, to trace the operation of political forces through successive generations, to contrast the action of individuals with the evolution of causes over which they had but little control, and to bring the salient features of the national biography into relief by the suppression of comparatively unimportant details.' he found no examples to follow, for villani with all his merits was of a different order. diarists and chroniclers there were in plenty, and works of the learned men led by aretino, written in latin and mainly rhetorical. the great work of guicciardini was not published till years after the secretary's death. machiavelli broke away from the chronicle or any other existing form. he deliberately applied philosophy to the sequence of facts. he organised civil and political history. he originally intended to begin his work at the year , the year of the return of cosimo il vecchio from exile and of the consolidation of medicean power on the ground that the earlier periods had been covered by aretino and bracciolini. but he speedily recognised that they told of nothing but external wars and business while the heart of the history of florence was left unbared. the work was to do again in very different manner, and in that manner he did it. throughout he maintains and insistently insinuates his unfailing explanation of the miseries of italy; the necessity of unity and the evils of the papacy which prevents it. in this book dedicated to a pope he scants nothing of his hatred of the holy see. for ever he is still seeking the one strong man in a blatant land with almost absolute power to punish, pull down, and reconstruct on an abiding foundation, for to his clear eyes it is ever the events that are born of the man, and not the man of the events. he was the first to observe that the ghibellines were not only the imperial party but the party of the aristocrats and influential men, whereas the guelphs were the party not only of the church but of the people, and he traces the slow but increasing struggle to the triumph of democracy in the ordinamenti di giustizia ( ). but the triumph was not final. the florentines were 'unable to preserve liberty and could not tolerate slavery.' so the fighting, banishments, bloodshed, cruelty, injustice, began once more. the nobles were in origin germanic, he points out, the people latin; so that a racial bitterness gave accent to their hate. but yet, he adds impartially, when the crushed nobility were forced to change their names and no longer dared be heard 'florence was not only stripped of arms but likewise of all generosity.' it would be impossible to follow the history in detail. the second, seventh and eighth books are perhaps the most powerful and dramatic. outside affairs and lesser events are lightly touched. but no stories in the world have been told with more intensity than those of the conspiracies in the seventh and eighth books, and none have given a more intimate and accurate perception of the modes of thought and feeling at the time. the history ends with the death of lorenzo de medici in . enough has been said of its breadth of scope and originality of method. the spirit of clear flaming patriotism, of undying hope that will not in the darkest day despair, the plangent appeal to italy for its own great sake to rouse and live, all these are found pre-eminently in the history as they are found wherever machiavelli speaks from the heart of his heart. of the style a foreigner may not speak. but those who are proper judges maintain that in simplicity and lucidity, vigour, and power, softness, elevation, and eloquence, the style of machiavelli is 'divine,' and remains, as that of dante among the poets, unchallenged and insuperable among all writers of italian prose. [sidenote: other works.] though machiavelli must always stand as a political thinker, an historian, and a military theorist it would leave an insufficient idea of his mental activities were there no short notice of his other literary works. with his passion for incarnating his theories in a single personality, he wrote the _life of castruccio castracani_, a politico-military romance. his hero was a soldier of fortune born lucca in , and, playing with a free hand, machiavelli weaves a life of adventure and romance in which his constant ideas of war and politics run through and across an almost imaginary tapestry. he seems to have intended to illustrate and to popularise his ideals and to attain by a story the many whom his discourses could not reach. in verse machiavelli was fluent, pungent, and prosaic. the unfinished _golden ass_ is merely made of paragraphs of the _discorsi_ twined into rhymes. and the others are little better. countless pamphlets, essays, and descriptions may be searched without total waste by the very curious and the very leisurely. the many despatches and multitudinous private letters tell the story both of his life and his mind. but the short but famous _novella di belfagor arcidiavolo_ is excellent in wit, satire, and invention. as a playwright he wrote, among many lesser efforts, one supreme comedy, _mandragola_, which macaulay declares to be better than the best of goldoni's plays, and only less excellent than the very best of molière's. italian critics call it the finest play in italian. the plot is not for nursery reading, but there are tears and laughter and pity and anger to furnish forth a copious author, and it has been not ill observed that _mandragola_ is the comedy of a society of which _the prince_ is the tragedy. [sidenote: the end.] it has been said of the italians of the renaissance that with so much of unfairness in their policy, there was an extraordinary degree of fairness in their intellects. they were as direct in thought as they were tortuous in action and could see no wickedness in deceiving a man whom they intended to destroy. to such a charge--if charge it be--machiavelli would have willingly owned himself answerable. he observed, in order to know, and he wished to use his knowledge for the advancement of good. to him the means were indifferent, provided only that they were always apt and moderate in accordance with necessity, a surgeon has no room for sentiment: in such an operator pity were a crime. it is his to examine, to probe, to diagnose, flinching at no ulcer, sparing neither to himself or to his patient. and if he may not act, he is to lay down very clearly the reasons which led to his conclusions and to state the mode by which life itself may be saved, cost what amputation and agony it may. this was machiavelli's business, and he applied his eye, his brains, and his knife with a relentless persistence, which, only because it was so faithful, was not called heroic. and we know that he suffered in the doing of it and that his heart was sore for his patient. but there was no other way. his record is clear and shining. he has been accused of no treachery, of no evil action. his patriotism for italy as a fatherland, a dream undreamt by any other, never glowed more brightly than when italy lay low in shame, and ruin, and despair. his faith never faltered, his spirit never shrank. and the italy that he saw, through dark bursts of storm, broken and sinking, we see to-day riding in the sunny haven where he would have her to be. henry cust. contents page the arte of warre the prince the arte of warre written first in italian by nicholas machiavell and set forthe in englishe by peter whitehorne studient at graies inne with an addicion of other like marcialle feates and experimentes as in a table in the ende of the booke maie appere _menfss. iulij_. to the moste highe, and excellent princes, elizabeth, by the grace of god, quene of englande, fraunce, and irelande, defender of the faithe, and of the churche of englande, and irelande, on yearth next under god, the supreme governour. although commonlie every man, moste worthie and renoumed soveraine, seketh specially to commend and extolle the thing, whereunto he feleth hymself naturally bent and inclined, yet al soche parciallitie and private affection laid aside, it is to bee thought (that for the defence, maintenaunce, and advauncemente of a kyngdome, or common weale, or for the good and due observacion of peace, and administracion of justice in the same) no one thinge to be more profitable, necessarie, or more honourable, then the knowledge of service in warre, and dedes of armes; bicause consideryng the ambicion of the worlde, it is impossible for any realme or dominion, long to continue free in quietnesse and savegarde, where the defence of the sweard is not alwaies in a readinesse. for like as the grekes, beyng occupied aboute triflyng matters, takyng pleasure in resityng of comedies, and soche other vain thinges, altogether neclecting marciall feates, gave occasion to philip kyng of macedonia, father to alexander the great, to oppresse and to bring theim in servitude, under his subjeccion, even so undoubtedly, libertie will not be kepte, but men shall be troden under foote, and brought to moste horrible miserie and calamitie, if thei givyng theim selves to pastymes and pleasure, forssake the juste regarde of their owne defence, and savegarde of their countrie, whiche in temporall regimente, chiefly consisteth in warlike skilfulnesse. and therefore the aunciente capitaines and mightie conquerours, so longe as thei florished, did devise with moste greate diligence, all maner of waies, to bryng their men to the perfect knowledge of what so ever thing appertained to the warre: as manifestly appereth by the warlike games, whiche in old time the princes of grecia ordained, upon the mount olimpus, and also by thorders and exercises, that the aunciente romaines used in sundrie places, and specially in campo martio, and in their wonderful sumptuous theaters, whiche chiefly thei builded to that purpose. whereby thei not onely made their souldiours so experte, that thei obtained with a fewe, in faightyng againste a greate houge multitude of enemies, soche marveilous victories, as in many credible histories are mencioned, but also by the same meanes, their unarmed and rascalle people that followed their campes, gotte soche understandyng in the feates of warre, that thei in the daie of battaile, beeyng lefte destitute of succour, were able without any other help, to set themselves in good order, for their defence againste the enemie, that would seke to hurte theim, and in soche daungerous times, have doen their countrie so good service, that verie often by their helpe, the adversaries have been put to flight, and fieldes moste happely wone. so that thantiquitie estemed nothing more happie in a common weale, then to have in the same many men skilfull in warlike affaires: by meanes whereof, their empire continually inlarged, and moste wonderfully and triumphantly prospered. for so longe as men for their valiauntnesse, were then rewarded and had in estimacion, glad was he that could finde occasion to venter, yea, and spende his life, to benefite his countrie: as by the manly actes that marcus curcius, oracius cocles, and gaius mucius did for the savegarde of rome and also by other innumerable like examples dooeth plainly appeare. but when through long and continuall peace, thei began to bee altogether given to pleasure and delicatenesse, little regardyng marciall feates, nor soche as were expert in the practise thereof: their dominions and estates, did not so moche before increase and prospere, as then by soche meanes and oversight, thei sodainly fell into decaie and utter ruine. for soche truly is the nature and condicion, bothe of peace and warre, that where in governemente, there is not had equalle consideration of them bothe, the one in fine, doeth woorke and induce, the others oblivion and utter abholicion. wherfore, sith the necessitie of the science of warres is so greate, and also the necessarie use thereof so manifeste, that even ladie peace her self, doeth in maner from thens crave her chief defence and preservacion, and the worthinesse moreover, and honour of the same so greate, that as by prose we see, the perfecte glorie therof, cannot easely finde roote, but in the hartes of moste noble couragious and manlike personages, i thought most excellente princes, i could not either to the specialle gratefiyng of your highnesse, the universall delight of all studious gentlemen, or the common utilitie of the publike wealth, imploie my labours more profitablie in accomplishyng of my duetie and good will, then in settyng foorthe some thing, that might induce to the augmentyng and increase of the knowledge thereof: inespecially thexample of your highnes most politike governemente over us, givyng plaine testimonie of the wonderfull prudente desire that is in you, to have your people instructed in this kinde of service, as well for the better defence of your highnesse, theim selves, and their countrie, as also to discourage thereby, and to be able to resist the malingnitie of the enemie, who otherwise would seeke peradventure, to invade this noble realme or kyngdome. when therfore about x. yeres paste, in the emperours warres against the mores and certain turkes beyng in barberie, at the siege and winnyng of calibbia, monesterio and africa, i had as well for my further instruction in those affaires, as also the better to acquainte me with the italian tongue, reduced into englishe, the booke called the arte of warre, of the famous and excellente nicholas machiavell, whiche in times paste he beyng a counsailour, and secretarie of the noble citee of florence, not without his greate laude and praise did write: and havyng lately againe, somwhat perused the same, the whiche in soche continuall broiles and unquietnesse, was by me translated, i determined with my self, by publishyng thereof, to bestowe as greate a gift (sins greater i was not able) emongeste my countrie men, not experte in the italian tongue, as in like woorkes i had seen before me, the frenchemen, duchemen, spaniardes, and other forreine nacions, moste lovyngly to have bestowed emongeste theirs: the rather undoubtedly, that as by private readyng of the same booke, i then felt my self in that knowledge marveilously holpen and increased, so by communicatyng the same to many, our englishemen findyng out the orderyng and disposyng of exploictes of warre therein contained, the aide and direction of these plaine and briefe preceptes, might no lesse in knowledge of warres become incomperable, then in prowes also and exercise of the same, altogether invincible: which my translacion moste gracious soveraine, together with soche other thynges, as by me hath been gathered, and thought good to adde thereunto, i have presumed to dedicate unto youre highnes: not onely bicause the whole charge and furniture of warlike counsailes and preparacions, being determined by the arbitremente of governours and princes, the treatise also of like effecte should in like maner as of right, depende upon the protection of a moste worthie and noble patronesse, but also that the discourse it self, and the woorke of a forrein aucthour, under the passeport and safeconduite of your highnes moste noble name, might by speciall aucthoritie of the same, winne emongest your majesties subjectes, moche better credite and estimacion. and if mooste mightie queen, in this kind of philosophie (if i maie so terme it) grave and sage counsailes, learned and wittie preceptes, or politike and prudente admonicions, ought not to be accompted the least and basest tewels of weale publike. then dare i boldely affirme, that of many straungers, whiche from forrein countries, have here tofore in this your majesties realme arrived, there is none in comparison to bee preferred, before this worthie florentine and italian, who havyng frely without any gaine of exchaunge (as after some acquaintaunce and familiaritie will better appeare) brought with hym moste riche, rare and plentiful treasure, shall deserve i trust of all good englishe lishe hartes, most lovingly and frendly to be intertained, embraced and cherished. whose newe englishe apparell, how so ever it shall seme by me, after a grosse fasion, more fitlie appoincted to the campe, then in nice termes attired to the carpet, and in course clothyng rather putte foorthe to battaile, then in any brave shewe prepared to the bankette, neverthelesse my good will i truste, shall of your grace be taken in good parte, havyng fashioned the phraise of my rude stile, even accordyng to the purpose of my travaile, whiche was rather to profite the desirous manne of warre, then to delight the eares of the fine rethorician, or daintie curious scholemanne: moste humblie besechyng your highnes, so to accept my labour herein, as the first fruictes of a poore souldiours studie, who to the uttermoste of his smalle power, in the service of your moste gracious majestie, and of his countrie, will at al tymes, accordyng to his bounden duetie and allegeaunce, promptlie yeld hym self to any labour, travaile, or daunger, what so ever shal happen. praiyng in the mean season the almightie god, to give your highnes in longe prosperous raigne, perfect health, desired tranquilitie, and against all your enemies, luckie and joifull victorie. your humble subject and dailie oratour, peter whitehorne. the proheme of nicholas machiavell, citezein and secretarie of florence, upon his booke of the arte of warre, unto laurence philippe strozze, one of the nobilitie of florence. there have laurence, many helde, and do holde this opinion, that there is no maner of thing, whiche lesse agreeth the one with the other, nor that is so much unlike, as the civil life to the souldiours. wherby it is often seen, that if any determin in thexercise of that kinde of service to prevaile, that incontinent he doeth not only chaunge in apparel, but also in custome and maner, in voice, and from the facion of all civil use, he doeth alter: for that he thinketh not meete to clothe with civell apparell him, who wil be redie, and promt to all kinde of violence, nor the civell customes, and usages maie that man have, the whiche judgeth bothe those customes to be effeminate, and those usages not to be agreable to his profession: nor it semes not convenient for him to use the civill gesture and ordinarie wordes, who with fasing and blasphemies, will make afraied other menne: the whiche causeth in this time, suche opinion to be moste true. but if thei should consider thauncient orders, there should nothing be founde more united, more confirmable, and that of necessitie ought to love so much the one the other, as these: for as muche as all the artes that are ordeined in a common weale, in regarde or respecte of common profite of menne, all the orders made in the same, to live with feare of the lawe, and of god should be vaine, if by force of armes their defence wer not prepared, which, well ordeined, doe maintain those also whiche be not well ordeined. and likewise to the contrarie the good orders, without the souldiours help, no lesse or otherwise doe disorder, then the habitacion of a sumptuous and roiall palais, although it wer decte with gold and precious stones, when without being covered, should not have wherewith to defende it from the raine. and if in what so ever other orders of cities and kyngdomes, there hath been used al diligence for to maintain men faithfull, peaceable, and full of the feare of god, in the service of warre, it was doubled: if for in what man ought the countrie to seke greater faith, then in him, who must promise to die for the same? in whom ought there to bee more love of peace, then in him, whiche onely by the warre maie be hurte? in whome ought there to bee more feare of god, then in him, which every daie committyng himself to infinite perilles, hath moste neede of his helpe? this necessitie considered wel, bothe of them that gave the lawes to empires, and of those that to the exercise of service wer apoincted, made that the life of souldiours, of other menne was praised, and with all studie folowed and imitated. but the orders of service of war, beyng altogether corrupted, and a greate waie from the auncient maners altered, there hath growen these sinisterous opinions, which maketh men to hate the warlike service, and to flie the conversacion of those that dooe exercise it. albeit i judgeing by the same, that i have seen and redde, that it is not a thyng impossible, to bryng it again to the auncient maners, and to give it some facion of the vertue passed, i have determined to the entente not to passe this my idell time, without doyng some thyng, to write that whiche i doe understande, to the satisfaction of those, who of aunciente actes, are lovers of the science of warre. and although it be a bold thing to intreate of the same matter, wher of otherwise i have made no profession, notwithstanding i beleve it is no errour, to occupie with wordes a degree, the whiche many with greater presumpcion with their deedes have occupied: for as muche as the errours that i maie happen to make by writing, may be without harme to any man corrected: but those the whiche of them be made in doyng cannot be knowen without the ruine of empires. therefore laurence you ought to consider the qualitie of this my laboure, and with your judgement to give it that blame, or that praise, as shall seeme unto you it hath deserved. the whiche i sende unto you, as well to shewe my selfe gratefull, although my habilitie reche not to the benefites, which i have received of you, as also for that beyng the custome to honour with like workes them who for nobilitie, riches, wisedome, and liberalitie doe shine: i knowe you for riches, and nobilitie, not to have many peeres, for wisedome fewe, and for liberalitie none. the arte of warre the table of certain principall thinges, contained in this woorke of machiavel in the firste booke why a good man ought not to exersise warfare as his arte, deedes of armes ought to be used privatly in time of peace for exersise, and in time of warre for necessetie and renoume, the strength of an armie is the footemen, the romaines renued their legions and had men in the flower of their age, whether men of armes ought to be kept, what is requisete for the preparyng of an armie, out of what contrie souldiers ought to be chosen, souldiers ought to bee chosen, by thaucthoritie of the prince, of suche men as be his oune subjectes, the difference of ages, that is to be taken in the chosinge of souldiours for the restoring of an olde power and for the making of a newe, the weapons or power that is prepared, of the naturall subjectes, of a common weale bringeth profit and not hurte, what cause letted the venetians, that they made not a monarchi of the worlde, how an armie maye bee prepared in the countrie, where were no exersise of warre, the custome that the romaines used, in the chosyng of their souldiours, the greater number of men is best, whether the multitude of armed men ar occation of confusion and of dissorder, how to prohibite, that the capitaines make no discension, in the seconde booke what armour the antiquetie used, the occation of the boldenes of the duchemen, whiche maner of armyng menne is better either the duche or romaine fasion, diverse examples of late dayes, an example of tigran, whether the footemen or the horsemen ought to bee estemed moste, the cause whie the romaines were overcome of the parthians, what order, or what vertue maketh, that footemen overcum horsemen, howe the antiquitie exersised their men to learne them to handle their weapons, what the antiquitie estemed moste happie in a common weale, the maner, of maintainyng the order, what a legion is, of grekes called a falange, and of frenchemen catterva, the devision of a legion, and the divers names of orders, the order of batellraye, and the manner of appoincting the battels, how to order, cccc.l. men to doo some severall feate, the fation of a battaile that the suisers make like a crosse, what carriages the capitaines ought to have, and the number of carriages requisite to every band of men, diverse effectes caused of diverse soundes, whereof cometh the utilitie, and the dissorder of the armies that are now a daies, the manner of arminge men, the number of carriages that men of armes and lighte horsemen ought to have, in the thirde booke the greatest dissorder that is used now a dayes in the orderinge of an armie, how the romaines devided their armie in hastati, principi and triarii, the manner that the romaines used to order them selves agayne in the overthrow, the custom of the greekes, a maine battaile of suissers, how manie legions of romaine citesens was in an ordinarie armie, the manner how to pitche a fielde to faighte a battaile, of what number of faighting men an armie oughte to be, the description of a battaile that is a faighting, an exsample of ventidio faighting against the parthians, an example of epaminondas, how the artillerie is unprofitable, how that a maine battaile of suissers cannot ocupie more then fower pikes, how the battailes when thei cum to be eight or ten, maye be receyved in the verie same space, that received the fyve, the armes that the standarde of all tharmie ought to have, divers examples of the antiquetie, in the fowerth booke whether the fronte of the armie ought to bee made large, to how many thinges respecte ought to be had, in the ordringe of an armie, an example of scipio, in what place a capitain maie order his armie with savegarde not to be clene overthrowen, aniball and scipio praised for the orderynge of their armies, cartes used of the asiaticans, diverse examples of the antiquitie, the prudence which the capitaine ought to use, in the accidence that chaunse in faightinge, what a capitaine ought to doo, that is the conqueror, or that is conquered, a capitaine ought not to faighte the battaile, but with advauntage, excepte he be constrained, how to avoide the faightinge of the fielde, advertismentes that the capitaine ought to have, speakyng to souldiers helpeth muche to make them to be curagious and bolde, whether all the armie ought to bee spoken unto, or onely to the heddes thereof, in the fyveth booke the manner how to leade an armie gowinge thorough suspected places, or to incounter the enemie, an example of aniball, wether any thing oughte to bee commaunded with the voise or with the trompet, the occations why the warres made now a dayes, doo impoverish the conquerors as well as the conquered, credite ought not to be given to thinges which stand nothinge with reason, the armie ought not to knowe what the capitaine purposeth to doo, diverse examples, in the sixte booke the maner how to incampe an armie, how brode the spaces and the wayes ought to be within the campe, what waye ought to be used when it is requiset to incampe nere the enemie, how the watche and warde ought to be apoincted in the campe, and what punishmente they ought to have that doo not their dutie, how the romanies prohibited women to be in their armies and idell games to be used, how to incampe accordinge to the nomber of men, and what nomber of menne maie suffise againste, what so ever enemie that wer, how to doo to be assured, of the fideletie of those that are had in suspition, what a capitaine ought to doo beinge beseged of his enemies, example of coriliano and others, it is requiset chiefly for a capitain to kepe his souldiers punished and payed, of aguries, moste excellent advertismentes and pollicies, the occation of the overthrowe of the frenchmen at garigliano, in the seventh booke cities are strong, either by nature or by industrie, the maner of fortificacion, bulwarkes ought not to be made oute of a towne distante from the same, example of genoa, of the countes catherin, the fation of percullesies used in almaine, howe the battelmentes of walles were made at the first, and how thei are made now adaies, the provisions that is mete to bee made, for the defence of a towne, divers pollicies, for the beseginge and defendinge of a toune or fortres, secrete conveing of letters, the defence againste a breache, generall rules of warre, the first booke of the arte of warre of nicholas machiavel, citezein and secretarie of florence, unto laurence philip strozze one of the nobiltie of florence. the first booke forasmuch as i beleve that after death, al men maie be praised without charge, al occasion and suspecte of flatterie beyng taken awaie, i shal not doubte to praise our cosimo ruchellay, whose name was never remembred of me without teares, havyng knowen in him those condicions, the whiche in a good frende or in a citezien, might of his freendes, or of his countrie, be desired: for that i doe not knowe what thyng was so muche his, not excepting any thing (saving his soule) which for his frendes willingly of him should not have been spent: i knowe not what enterprise should have made him afraide, where the same should have ben knowen to have been for the benefite of his countrie. and i doe painly confesse, not to have mette emongest so many men, as i have knowen, and practised withal, a man, whose minde was more inflamed then his, unto great and magnificent thynges. nor he lamented not with his frendes of any thyng at his death, but because he was borne to die a yong manne within his owne house, before he had gotten honour, and accordynge to his desire, holpen any manne: for that he knewe, that of him coulde not be spoken other, savyng that there should be dead a good freende. yet it resteth not for this, that we, and what so ever other that as we did know him, are not able to testifie (seeyng his woorkes doe not appere) of his lawdable qualities. true it is, that fortune was not for al this, so muche his enemie, that it left not some brief record of the readinesse of his witte, as doeth declare certaine of his writinges, and settyng foorthe of amorous verses, wherin (although he were not in love) yet for that he would not consume time in vain, til unto profounder studies fortune should have brought him, in his youthfull age he exercised himselfe. whereby moste plainly maie be comprehended, with how moche felicitie he did describe his conceiptes, and how moche for poetrie he should have ben estemed, if the same for the ende therof, had of him ben exercised. fortune having therfore deprived us from the use of so great a frende, me thinketh there can bee founde no other remedie, then as muche as is possible, to seke to enjoye the memorie of the same, and to repeate suche thynges as hath been of him either wittely saied, or wisely disputed. and for as much as there is nothyng of him more freshe, then the reasonyng, the whiche in his last daies signior fabricio collonna, in his orchard had with him, where largely of the same gentilman were disputed matters of warre, bothe wittely and prudently, for the moste parte of cosimo demaunded, i thought good, for that i was present there with certain other of our frendes, to bring it to memorie, so that reading the same, the frendes of cosimo, whiche thether came, might renewe in their mindes, the remembraunce of his vertue: and the other part beyng sorie for their absence, might partly learne hereby many thynges profitable, not onely to the life of souldiours, but also to civil mennes lives, which gravely of a moste wise man was disputed. therfore i saie, that fabricio collonna retournyng out of lombardie, where longe time greatly to his glorie, he had served in the warres the catholike kyng, he determined, passyng by florence, to rest himself certain daies in the same citee, to visite the dukes excellencie, and to see certaine gentilmen, whiche in times paste he had been acquainted withal. for whiche cause, unto cosimo it was thought beste to bid him into his orchard, not so muche to use his liberalitee, as to have occasion to talke with him at leasure, and of him to understande and to learne divers thinges, accordyng as of suche a man maie bee hoped for, semyng to have accasion to spende a daie in reasonyng of suche matters, which to his minde should best satisfie him. then fabricio came, accordyng to his desire, and was received of cosimo together, with certain of his trustie frendes, emongest whome wer zanoby buondelmonti, baptiste palla, and luigi allamanni, all young men loved of him and of the very same studies moste ardente, whose good qualities, for as muche as every daie, and at every houre thei dooe praise themselves, we will omit. fabricio was then accordyng to the time and place honoured, of all those honours, that thei could possible devise: but the bankettyng pleasures beyng passed, and the tabel taken up, and al preparacion of feastinges consumed, the which are sone at an ende in sight of greate men, who to honorable studies have their mindes set, the daie beyng longe, and the heate muche, cosimo judged for to content better his desire, that it wer well doen, takyng occasion to avoide the heate, to bring him into the moste secret, and shadowest place of his garden. where thei beyng come, and caused to sit, some upon herbes, some in the coldest places, other upon litle seates which there was ordeined, under the shadow of moste high trees, fabricio praiseth the place, to be delectable, and particularly consideryng the trees, and not knowyng some of them, he did stande musinge in his minde, whereof cosimo beeyng a ware saied, you have not peradventure ben acquainted with some of these sortes of trees: but doe not marvell at it, for as muche as there bee some, that were more estemed of the antiquitie, then thei are commonly now a daies: and he tolde him the names of them, and how barnardo his graundfather did travaile in suche kinde of plantyng: fabricio replied, i thought it shuld be the same you saie, and this place, and this studie, made me to remember certaine princes of the kyngdome of naples, whiche of these anncient tillage and shadow doe delight. and staiyng upon this talke, and somewhat standyng in a studdie, saied moreover, if i thought i should not offende, i woud tell my opinion, but i beleeve i shall not, commonyng with friendes, and to dispute of thynges, and not to condemne them. how much better thei should have doen (be it spoken without displeasure to any man) to have sought to been like the antiquitie in thinges strong, and sharpe, not in the delicate and softe: and in those that thei did in the sunne, not in the shadowe: and to take the true and perfecte maners of the antiquitie: not those that are false and corrupted: for that when these studies pleased my romaines, my countrie fell into ruin. unto which cosimo answered. but to avoide the tediousnesse to repeate so many times he saied, and the other answered, there shall be onely noted the names of those that speakes, without rehersing other. then cosimo saied, you have opened the waie of a reasoning, which i have desired, and i praie you that you will speake withoute respecte, for that that i without respecte will aske you, and if i demaundyng, or repliyng shall excuse, or accuse any, it shal not be to excuse, or accuse, but to understande of you the truth. fabricio. and i shall be very well contented to tell you that, whiche i understand of al the same that you shall aske me, the whiche if it shall be true, or no, i wil report me to your judgemente: and i will be glad that you aske me, for that i am to learne, as well of you in askyng me, as you of me in aunswerynge you: for as muche as many times a wise demaunder, maketh one to consider many thynges, and to knowe many other, whiche without havyng been demaunded, he should never have knowen. cosimo. i will retourne to thesame, that you said first, that my graundfather and those your princes, should have doen more wisely, to have resembled the antiquitie in hard thinges, then in the delicate, and i will excuse my parte, for that, the other i shall leave to excuse for you. i doe not beleve that in his tyme was any manne, that so moche detested the livyng in ease, as he did, and that so moche was a lover of the same hardenesse of life, whiche you praise: notwithstandyng he knewe not how to bee able in persone, nor in those of his sonnes to use it, beeyng borne in so corrupte a worlde, where one that would digresse from the common use, should bee infamed and disdained of every man: consideryng that if one in the hottest day of summer being naked, should wallowe hymself upon the sande, or in winter in the moste coldest monethes upon the snowe, as diogenes did, he should be taken as a foole. if one, (as the spartans were wonte to doe) should nourishe his children in a village, makyng them to slepe in the open aire, to go with hedde and feete naked, to washe them selves in the colde water for to harden them, to be able to abide moche paine, and for to make theim to love lesse life, and to feare lesse death, he should be scorned, and soner taken as a wilde beast, then as a manne. if there wer seen also one, to nourishe himself with peason and beanes, and to despise gold, as fabricio doeth, he should bee praised of fewe, and followed of none: so that he being afraied of this present maner of livyng, he left thauncient facions, and thesame, that he could with lest admiracion imitate in the antiquitie, he did. fabricio. you have excused it in this parte mooste strongly: and surely you saie the truthe: but i did not speake so moche of this harde maner of livyng, as of other maners more humaine, and whiche have with the life now a daies greater conformitie. the whiche i doe not beleve, that it hath been difficulte to bryng to passe unto one, who is nombred emongest princes of a citee: for the provyng whereof, i will never seke other, then thexample of the romaines. whose lives, if thei wer well considred, and thorders of thesame common weale, there should therin be seen many thinges, not impossible to induce into a cominaltie, so that it had in her any good thing. cosimo. what thynges are those, that you would induce like unto the antiquitie. fabricio. to honour, and to reward vertue, not to despise povertie, to esteme the maners and orders of warfare, to constrain the citezeins to love one an other, to live without sectes, to esteme lesse the private, than the publike, and other like thinges, that easily might bee with this time accompanied: the which maners ar not difficult to bring to passe, when a man should wel consider them, and entre therin by due meanes: for asmoche as in thesame, the truth so moche appereth, that every common wit, maie easely perceive it: which thing, who that ordeineth, doth plant trees, under the shadowe wherof, thei abide more happie, and more pleasantly, then under these shadowes of this goodly gardeine. cosimo. i will not speake any thyng againste thesame that you have saied, but i will leave it to bee judged of these, whom easely can judge, and i will tourne my communicacion to you, that is an accusar of theim, the whiche in grave, and greate doynges, are not followers of the antiquitie, thinkyng by this waie more easely to be in my entent satisfied. therfore, i would knowe of you whereof it groweth, that of the one side you condempne those, that in their doynges resemble not the antiquitie? of the other, in the warre, whiche is your art, wherin you are judged excellent, it is not seen, that you have indevoured your self, to bryng the same to any soche ende, or any thyng at all resembled therein the auncient maners. fabricio. you are happened upon the poincte, where i loked: for that my talke deserved no other question: nor i desired other: and albeit that i could save my self with an easie excuse, not withstandyng for my more contentacion, and yours, seyng that the season beareth it, i will enter in moche longer reasoning. those men, whiche will enterprise any thyng, ought firste with all diligence to prepare theim selves, to be ready and apte when occasion serveth, to accomplish that, which thei have determined to worke: and for that when the preparacions are made craftely, thei are not knowen, there cannot be accused any man of any negligence, if firste it be not disclosed by thoccasion: in the which working not, is after seen, either that there is not prepared so moche as suffiseth, or that there hath not been of any part therof thought upon. and for as moche as to me there is not come any occasion to be able, to shewe the preparacions made of me, to reduce the servise of warre into his auncient orders, if i have not reduced it, i cannot be of you, nor of other blamed: i beleve this excuse shuld suffise for answere to your accusement. cosimo. it should suffice, when i wer certain, that thoccasion were not come. fabricio. but for that i know, that you maie doubt whether this occasion hath been cum, or no, i will largely (when you with pacience will heare me) discourse what preparacions are necessary first to make, what occasion muste growe, what difficultie doeth let, that the preparacions help not, and why thoccasion cannot come, and how these things at ones, which some contrary endes, is most difficill, and most easie to do. cosimo. you cannot do bothe to me, and unto these other, a thing more thankfull then this. and if to you it shall not be tedious to speake, unto us it shal never be grevous to heare: but for asmoch as this reasonyng ought to be long, i will with your license take helpe of these my frendes: and thei, and i praie you of one thyng, that is, that you will not bee greved, if some tyme with some question of importaunce, we interrupte you. [sidenote: why a good man ought never to use the exercise of armes, as his art.] fabricio. i am moste well contented, that you cosimo with these other younge men here, doe aske me: for that i beleve, that youthfulnes, will make you lovers of warlike thinges, and more easie to beleve thesame, that of me shalbe saied. these other, by reason of havyng nowe their hedde white, and for havyng upon their backes their bloude congeled, parte of theim are wonte to bee enemies of warre, parte uncorrectable, as those, whom beleve, that tymes, and not the naughtie maners, constraine men to live thus: so that safely aske you all of me, and without respecte: the whiche i desire, as well, for that it maie be unto me a little ease, as also for that i shall have pleasure, not to leave in your mynde any doubt. i will begin at your woordes, where you saied unto me, that in the warre, that is my arte, i had not indevoured to bryng it to any aunciente ende: whereupon i saie, as this beyng an arte, whereby men of no maner of age can live honestly, it cannot bee used for an arte, but of a common weale: or of a kyngdome: and the one and the other of these, when thei bee well ordeined, will never consente to any their citezeins, or subjectes, to use it for any arte, nor never any good manne doeth exercise it for his particulare arte: for as moche as good he shall never bee judged, whom maketh an excersise thereof, where purposing alwaies to gaine thereby, it is requisite for hym to be ravenyng, deceiptfull, violente, and to have many qualities, the whiche of necessitie maketh hym not good: nor those menne cannot, whiche use it for an arte, as well the greate as the leaste, bee made otherwise: for that this arte doeth not nourishe them in peace. wherfore thei ar constrained either to thinke that there is no peace, or so moche to prevaile in the tyme of warre, that in peace thei maie bee able to kepe them selves: and neither of these two thoughtes happeneth in a good man: for that in mindyng to bee able to finde himself at all tymes, dooe growe robberies, violence, slaughters, whiche soche souldiours make as well to the frendes, as to the enemies: and in mindyng not to have peace, there groweth deceiptes, whiche the capitaines use to those, whiche hire them, to the entent the warre maie continue, and yet though the peace come often, it happeneth that the capitaines beyng deprived of their stipendes, and of their licencious livyng, thei erecte an ansigne of adventures, and without any pitie thei put to sacke a province. have not you in memorie of your affaires, how that beyng many souldiours in italie without wages, bicause the warre was ended, thei assembled together many companies, and went taxyng the tounes, and sackyng the countrie, without beyng able to make any remedie? have you not red, that the carthagenes souldiours, the first warre beyng ended which thei had with the romaines, under matho, and spendio, twoo capitaines, rebelliously constituted of theim, made more perillous warre to the carthaginens, then thesame whiche thei had ended with the romaines? in the time of our fathers, frances sforza, to the entente to bee able to live honourably in the time of peace, not only beguiled the millenars, whose souldiour he was, but he toke from them their libertie and became their prince. like unto him hath been all the other souldiours of italie whiche have used warfare, for their particulare arte, and albeeit thei have not through their malignitie becomen dukes of milein, so moche the more thei deserve to bee blamed: for that although thei have not gotten so moch as he, thei have all (if their lives wer seen) sought to bring the like thynges to passe. sforza father of fraunces, constrained quene jone, to caste her self into the armes of the king of aragon, havyng in a sodain forsaken her, and in the middest of her enemies, lefte her disarmed, onely to satisfie his ambicion, either in taxyng her, or in takyng from her the kyngdome. braccio with the verie same industrie, sought to possesse the kyngdome of naples, and if he had not been overthrowen and slaine at aquila, he had brought it to passe. like disorders growe not of other, then of soche men as hath been, that use the exercise of warfare, for their proper arte. have not you a proverbe, whiche fortefieth my reasons, whiche saieth, that warre maketh theves, and peace hangeth theim up? for as moche as those, whiche knowe not how to live of other exercise, and in the same finding not enie man to sustayne theym, and havyng not so moche power, to knowe how to reduce theim selves together, to make an open rebellion, they are constrayned of necessetie to robbe in the highe waies, and justice is enforced to extinguishe theim. cosimo. you have made me to esteme this arte of warfare almoste as nothyng, and i have supposed it the moste excellentes, and moste honourableste that hath been used: so that if you declare me it not better, i cannot remaine satisfied: for that when it is thesame, that you saie, i knowe not, whereof groweth the glorie of cesar, of pompei, of scipio, of marcello, and of so many romaine capitaines, whiche by fame are celebrated as goddes. fabricio. i have not yet made an ende of disputyng al thesame, that i purposed to propounde: whiche were twoo thynges, the one, that a good manne could not use this exercise for his arte: the other, that a common weale or a kingdome well governed, did never permitte, that their subjectes or citezeins should use it for an arte. aboute the firste, i have spoken as moche as hath comen into my mynde: there remaineth in me to speake of the seconde where i woll come to aunswere to this your laste question, and i saie that pompey and cesar, and almoste all those capitaines, whiche were at rome, after the laste carthagenens warre, gotte fame as valiaunt men, not as good, and those whiche lived before them, gotte glorie as valiaunte and good menne: the whiche grewe, for that these tooke not the exercise of warre for their arte: and those whiche i named firste, as their arte did use it. and so longe as the common weale lived unspotted, never any noble citezein would presume, by the meane of soche exercise, to availe thereby in peace, breakyng the lawes, spoilyng the provinces, usurpyng, and plaiyng the tyraunte in the countrie, and in every maner prevailyng: nor any of how lowe degree so ever thei were, would goe aboute to violate the religion, confederatyng theim selves with private men, not to feare the senate, or to followe any tirannicall insolence, for to bee able to live with the arte of warre in all tymes. but those whiche were capitaines, contented with triumphe, with desire did tourne to their private life, and those whiche were membres, would be more willyng to laie awaie their weapons, then to take them, and every manne tourned to his science, whereby thei gotte their livyng: nor there was never any, that would hope with praie, and with this arte, to be able to finde theim selves. of this there maie be made concernyng citezeins, moste evidente conjecture, by the ensample of regolo attillio, who beyng capitain of the romaine armies in affrica, and havyng as it wer overcome the carthegenens, he required of the senate, licence to retourne home, to kepe his possessions, and told them, that thei were marde of his housbandmen. whereby it is more clere then the sunne, that if thesame manne had used the warre as his arte, and by meanes thereof, had purposed to have made it profitable unto him, havyng in praie so many provinces, he would not have asked license, to returne to kepe his feldes: for as moche as every daie he might otherwise, have gotten moche more, then the value of al those possessions: but bicause these good men and soche as use not the warre for their arte, will not take of thesame any thing then labour, perilles, and gloris, when thei are sufficiently glorious, thei desire to returne home, and to live of their owne science. concernyng menne of lowe degree, and common souldiours, to prove that thei kepte the verie same order, it doeth appeare that every one willingly absented theim selves from soche exercise, and when thei served not in the warre, thei would have desired to serve, and when thei did serve, thei would have desired leave not to have served: whiche is wel knowen through many insamples, and inespecially seeyng how emonge the firste privileges, whiche the romaine people gave to their citezeins was, that thei should not be constrained against their willes, to serve in the warres. therefore rome so long as it was well governed, whiche was untill the commyng of graccus, it had not any souldiour that would take this exercise for an arte, and therefore it had fewe naughtie, and those few wer severely punished. then a citee well governed, ought to desire, that this studie of warre, be used in tyme of peace for exercise, and in the time of warre, for necessitie and for glorie: and to suffer onely the common weale to use it for an arte, as rome did, and what so ever citezein, that hath in soche exercise other ende, is not good, and what so ever citee is governed otherwise, is not well ordeined. cosimo. i remain contented enough and satisfied of thesame, whiche hetherto you have told, and this conclusion pleaseth me verie wel whiche you have made, and as muche as is loked for touching a common welth, i beleve that it is true, but concerning kinges, i can not tell nowe, for that i woulde beleve that a kinge would have about him, whome particularly should take suche exercise for his arte. fabricio. a kingdome well ordred ought moste of all to avoide the like kinde of men, for only thei, are the destruction of their king, and all together ministers of tiranny, and alledge me not to the contrarie anie presente kingdome, for that i woll denie you all those to be kingdomes well ordered, bicause the kingdomes whiche have good orders, give not their absolute empire unto their king, saving in the armies, for as much as in this place only, a quicke deliberation is necessarie, and for this cause a principall power ought to be made. in the other affaires, he ought not to doe any thing without councell, and those are to be feared, which councell him, leaste he have some aboute him which in time of peace desireth to have warre bicause they are not able without the same to live, but in this, i wilbe a little more large: neither to seke a kingdome altogether good, but like unto those whiche be nowe a daies where also of a king those ought to be feared, whiche take the warre for theire art, for that the strength of armies without any doubte are the foote menne: so that if a king take not order in suche wise, that his men in time of peace may be content to returne home, and to live of their owne trades, it will follow of necessitie, that he ruinate: for that there is not found more perilous men, then those, whiche make the warre as their arte: bicause in such case, a king is inforsed either alwaies to make warre, or to paie them alwaies, or else to bee in perill, that they take not from him his kingdome. to make warre alwaies, it is not possible: to paie them alwaies it can not be: see that of necessitie, he runneth in peril to lese the state. the romaines (as i have saide) so long as they were wise and good, would never permitte, that their citizeins should take this exercise for their arte, although they were able to nurrishe them therin alwaies, for that that alwaies they made warre: but to avoide thesame hurte, whiche this continuall exercise might doe them, seyng the time did not varie, they changed the men, and from time to time toke such order with their legions, that in xv. yeres alwaies, they renewed them: and so thei had their men in the floure of their age, that is from xviij. to xxxiij. yeres, in which time the legges, the handes, and the yes answere the one the other, nor thei tarried not till there strengthe should decaie, and there naghtines increase, as it did after in the corrupted times. for as muche as octavian first, and after tiberius, minding more their own proper power, then the publicke profite, began to unarme the romaine people, to be able easely to commaunde them, and to kepe continually those same armies on the frontries of the empire: and bicause also they judged those, not sufficient to kepe brideled the people and romaine senate, they ordeined an armie called pretoriano, which laie harde by the walles of rome, and was as a rocke on the backe of the same citie. and for as much as then thei began frely to permitte, that suche men as were apoincted in suche exercises, should use the service of warre for their arte, streight waie the insolence of theim grewe, that they became fearful unto the senate, and hurtefull to the emperour, whereby ensued suche harme, that manie were slaine thorough there insolensie: for that they gave, and toke awaie the empire, to whome they thought good. and some while it hapned, that in one self time there were manie emperours, created of divers armies, of whiche thinges proceded first the devision of the empire, and at laste the ruine of the same. therefore kinges ought, if thei wil live safely, to have there souldiours made of men, who when it is time to make warre, willingly for his love will go to the same, and when the peace cometh after, more willingly will returne home. whiche alwaies wilbe, when thei shalbe men that know how to live of other arte then this: and so they ought to desire, peace beyng come, that there prince doo tourne to governe their people, the gentilmen to the tending of there possessions, and the common souldiours to their particular arte, and everie one of these, to make warre to have peace, and not to seke to trouble the peace, to have warre. cosimo. truely this reasonyng of yours, i thinke to bee well considered, notwithstanding beyng almost contrarie to that, whiche till nowe i have thought, my minde as yet doeth not reste purged of all doubte, for as muche as i see manie lordes and gentelmen, to finde them selves in time of peace, thorough the studies of warre, as your matches bee, who have provision of there princes, and of the cominaltie. i see also, almost al the gentelmen of armes, remaine with neir provision, i see manie souldiours lie in garison of cities and fortresses, so that my thinkes, that there is place in time of peace, for everie one. fabricio. i doe not beleve that you beleve this, that in time of peace everie man may have place, bicause, put case that there coulde not be brought other reason, the small number, that all they make, whiche remaine in the places alledged of you, would answer you. what proporcion have the souldiours, whiche are requiset to bee in the warre with those, whiche in the peace are occupied? for as much as the fortreses, and the cities that be warded in time of peace, in the warre are warded muche more, unto whome are joyned the souldiours, whiche kepe in the fielde, whiche are a great number, all whiche in the peace be putte awaie. and concerning the garde of states, whiche are a small number, pope july, and you have shewed to everie man, how muche are to be feared those, who will not learne to exercise any other art, then the warre, and you have for there insolence, deprived them from your garde, and have placed therin swisers, as men borne and brought up under lawes, and chosen of the cominaltie, according to the true election: so that saie no more, that in peace is place for everie man. concerning men at armes, thei al remaining in peace with their wages, maketh this resolution to seme more difficulte: notwithstandyng who considereth well all, shall finde the answere easie, bicause this manner of keping men of armes, is a corrupted manner and not good, the occasion is, for that they be men, who make thereof an arte, and of them their should grow every daie a thousande inconveniencies in the states, where thei should be, if thei were accompanied of sufficient company: but beyng fewe, and not able by them selves to make an armie, they cannot often doe suche grevous hurtes, neverthelesse they have done oftentimes: as i have said of frances, and of sforza his father, and of braccio of perugia: so that this use of keping men of armes, i doe not alowe, for it is a corrupte maner, and it may make great inconveniencies. cosimo. woulde you live without them? or keping them, how would you kepe them? [sidenote: a kinge that hath about him any that are to much lovers of warre, or to much lovers of peace shal cause him to erre.] fabricio. by waie of ordinaunce, not like to those of the king of fraunce: for as muche as they be perilous, and insolent like unto ours, but i would kepe them like unto those of the auncient romaines, whom created their chivalry of their own subjectes, and in peace time, thei sente them home unto their houses, to live of their owne trades, as more largely before this reasoning ende, i shal dispute. so that if now this part of an armie, can live in such exercise, as wel when it is peace, it groweth of the corrupt order. concerning the provisions, which are reserved to me, and to other capitaines, i saie unto you, that this likewise is an order moste corrupted: for as much as a wise common weale, ought not to give such stipendes to any, but rather thei ought to use for capitaines in the warre, their citezeins, and in time of peace to will, that thei returne to their occupations. likewise also, a wise king either ought not to give to suche, or giving any, the occasion ought to be either for rewarde of some worthy dede, or else for the desire to kepe suche a kinde of man, as well in peace as in warre. and bicause you alledged me, i will make ensample upon my self, and saie that i never used the warre as an arte, for as muche as my arte, is to governe my subjectes, and to defende them, and to be able to defende them, to love peace, and to know how to make warre, and my kinge not so muche to rewarde and esteeme me, for my knowledge in the warre, as for the knowledge that i have to councel him in peace. then a king ought not to desire to have about him, any that is not of this condicion if he be wise, and prudently minde to governe: for that, that if he shal have about him either to muche lovers of peace, or to much lovers of warre, they shall make him to erre. i cannot in this my firste reasoning, and according to my purpose saie more, and when this suffiseth you not, it is mete, you seke of them that may satisfie you better. you maie now verie well understand, how difficulte it is to bringe in use the auncient maners in the presente warres, and what preparations are mete for a wise man to make, and what occasions ought to be loked for, to be able to execute it. but by and by, you shall know these things better, if this reasoning make you not werie, conferring what so ever partes of the auncient orders hath ben, to the maners nowe presente. cosimo. if we desired at the first to here your reason of these thinges, truly thesame whiche hetherto you have spoken, hath doubled our desire: wherefore we thanke you for that we have hard, and the rest, we crave of you to here. fabricio. seyng that it is so your pleasure, i will begin to intreate of this matter from the beginning, to the intent it maye be better understode, being able by thesame meane, more largely to declare it. the ende of him that wil make warre, is to be able to fight with every enemy in the fielde and to be able to overcum an armie. to purpose to doe this, it is convenient to ordeine an hoost. to ordein an hoost, their must be found menne, armed, ordered, and as well in the small, as in the great orders exercised, to knowe howe to kepe araie, and to incampe, so that after bringing them unto the enemie, either standing or marching, they maie know how to behave themselves valiantly. in this thing consisteth all the industrie of the warre on the lande, whiche is the most necessarie, and the most honorablest, for he that can wel order a fielde against the enemie, the other faultes that he should make in the affaires of warre, wilbe borne with: but he that lacketh this knowledge, although that in other particulars he be verie good, he shal never bring a warre to honor: for as muche as a fielde that thou winnest, lesing? img doeth cancell all other thy evill actes: so like wise lesing it, all thinges well done of thee before, remaine vaine. therfore, beyng necessarie first to finde the menne, it is requiset to come to the choise of them. they whiche unto the warre have given rule, will that the menne be chosen out of temperate countries, to the intente they may have hardines, and prudence, for as muche as the hote countrey, bredes prudente men and not hardy, the colde, hardy, and not prudente. this rule is good to be geven, to one that were prince of all the world, bicause it is lawfull for him to choose men out of those places, whiche he shall thinke beste. but minding to give a rule, that every one may use, it is mete to declare, that everie common weale, and every kingdome, ought to choose their souldiours out of their owne countrie, whether it be hote, colde, or temperate: for that it is scene by olde ensamples, how that in every countrie with exercise, their is made good souldiours: bicause where nature lacketh, the industry supplieth, the which in this case is worthe more, then nature, and taking them in other places, you shal not have of the choise, for choise is as much to saie, as the best of a province, and to have power to chuse those that will not, as well as those that wil serve. wherfore, you muste take your choise in those places, that are subjecte unto you, for that you cannot take whome you liste, in the countries that are not yours, but you muste take suche as will goe with you. cosimo. yet there maie bee of those, that will come, taken and lefte, and therefore, thei maie be called chosen. [sidenote: oute of what countrie is best to chuse souldiours to make a good election.] fabuicio. you saie the truthe in a certaine maner, but consider the faultes, whiche soche a chosen manne hath in himselfe, for that also many times it hapneth, that he is not a chosen manne. for those that are not thy subjectes, and whiche willyngly doe serve, are not of the beste, but rather of the worste of a province, for as moche as if any be sclanderous, idell, unruly, without religion, fugetive from the rule of their fathers, blasphemours, dise plaiers, in every condicion evill brought up, bee those, whiche will serve, whose customes cannot be more contrarie, to a true and good servise: albeit, when there bee offered unto you, so many of soche men, as come to above the nomber, that you have appoincted, you maie chuse them: but the matter beyng naught, the choise is not possible to be good: also, many times it chaunceth, that thei be not so many, as will make up the nomber, whereof you have nede, so that beyng constrained to take them al, it commeth to passe, that thei cannot then bee called chosen men, but hired souldiours. with this disorder the armies of italie, are made now a daies, and in other places, except in almaine, bicause there thei doe not hire any by commaundemente of the prince, but accordyng to the will of them, that are disposed to serve. then consider now, what maners of those aunciente armies, maie bee brought into an armie of men, put together by like waies. cosimo. what waie ought to bee used then? fabricio. the same waie that i saied, to chuse them of their owne subjectes, and with the auethoritie of the prince. cosmo. in the chosen, shall there bee likewise brought in any auncient facion? fabricio. you know well enough that ye: when he that should commaunde theim, were their prince, or ordinarie lorde, whether he were made chief, or as a citezein, and for the same tyme capitaine, beyng a common weale, otherwise it is harde to make any thyng good. cosimo. why? fabricio. i will tell you a nane: for this time i will that this suffise you, that it cannot be wrought well by other waie. [sidenote: whether it be better to take menne oute of townes or out of the countrie to serve.] cosimo. having then to make this choyse of men in their owne countries, whether judge you that it be better to take them oute of the citie, or out of the countrie? fabricio. those that have written of such matters, doe all agree, that it is best to chuse them out of the countrie, being men accustomed to no ease, nurished in labours, used to stonde in the sunne, to flie the shadow, knowing how to occupy the spade, to make a diche, to carrie a burden, and to bee without any deceite, and without malisiousnes. but in this parte my opinion should be, that beyng two sortes of souldiours, on foote, and on horsebacke, that those on foote, should be chosen out of the countrie, and those on horseback, oute of the cities. [sidenote: of what age souldiours ought to bee chosen.] cosimo. of what age would you choose them? fabricio. i would take them, when i had to make a newe armie, from xvii. to xl. yeres: when it were made alredy, and i had to restore them, of xvii. alwaies. cosimo. i doe not understonde well this distinction. fabricio. i shall tell you: when i should ordaine an hooste to make warre, where were no hooste alredy, it should be necessarie to chuse all those men, which were most fitte and apte for the warre, so that they were of servisable age, that i might bee able to instructe theim, as by me shalbe declared: but when i would make my choise of menne in places, where a powre were alredy prepared, for suppliyng of thesame, i would take them of xvii. yeres: for as much as the other of more age be alredy chosen and apoincted. cosimo. then woulde you prepare a power like to those whiche is in our countrie? fabricio. ye truly, it is so that i would arme them, captaine them, exercise and order them in a maner, whiche i cannot tell, if you have ordred them so. cosimo. then do you praise the keping of order? fabricio. wherefore would you that i should dispraise it? cosimo. bicause many wise menne have alwaies blamed it. fabricio. you speake against all reason, to saie that a wise man blameth order, he maie bee well thought wise, and be nothyng so. cosimo. the naughtie profe, which it hath alwaies, maketh us to have soche opinion thereof. fabricio. take hede it be not your fault, and not the kepyng of order, the whiche you shall knowe, before this reasonyng be ended. cosimo. you shall doe a thyng moste thankfull, yet i will saie concernyng thesame, that thei accuse it, to the entente you maie the better justifie it. thei saie thus, either it is unprofitable, and we trustyng on the same, shall make us to lese our state, or it shall be verteous, and by thesame meane, he that governeth may easely deprive us thereof. thei alledge the romaines, who by meane of their owne powers, loste their libertie. thei alledge the venicians, and the frenche king, whiche venicians, bicause thei will not be constrained, to obeie one of their owne citezeins, use the power of straungers: and the frenche kyng hath disarmed his people, to be able more easely to commaunde them, but thei whiche like not the ordinaunces, feare moche more the unprofitablenesse, that thei suppose maie insue thereby, then any thyng els: the one cause whiche thei allege is, bicause thei are unexperte: the other, for that thei have to serve par force: for asmoche as thei saie, that the aged bee not so dissiplinable, nor apte to learne the feate of armes, and that by force, is doen never any thyng good. [sidenote: by what meanes souldiours bee made bolde and experte.] fabricio. all these reasons that you have rehearsed, be of men, whiche knoweth the thyng full little, as i shall plainly declare. and firste, concernyng the unprofitablenesse, i tell you, that there is no service used in any countrie more profitable, then the service by the subjectes of thesame nor thesame service cannot bee prepared, but in this maner: and for that this nedeth not to be disputed of, i will not lese moche tyme: bicause al thensamples of auncient histores, make for my purpose, and for that thei alledge the lacke of experience, and to use constraint: i saie how it is true, that the lacke of experience, causeth lacke of courage, and constrainte, maketh evill contentacion: but courage, and experience thei are made to gette, with the maner of armyng theim, exercisyng, and orderyng theim, as in proceadyng of this reasonyng, you shall heare. but concernyng constrainte, you ought to understande, that the menne, whiche are conducted to warfare, by commaundement of their prince, thei ought to come, neither altogether forced, nor altogether willyngly, for as moche as to moche willyngnesse, would make thinconveniencies, where i told afore, that he should not be a chosen manne, and those would be fewe that would go: and so to moche constraint, will bring forth naughtie effectes. therefore, a meane ought to be taken, where is not all constrainte, nor all willingnesse: but beyng drawen of a respecte, that thei have towardes their prince, where thei feare more the displeasure of thesame, then the presente paine: and alwaies it shall happen to be a constrainte, in maner mingled with willingnesse, that there cannot growe soche evil contentacion, that it make evill effectes. yet i saie not for all this, that it cannot bee overcome, for that full many tymes, were overcome the romaine armies, and the armie of aniball was overcome, so that it is seen, that an armie cannot be ordained so sure, that it cannot be overthrowen. therefore, these your wise men, ought not to measure this unprofitablenesse, for havyng loste ones, but to beleve, that like as thei lese, so thei maie winne, and remeadie the occasion of the losse: and when thei shall seke this thei shall finde, that it hath not been through faulte of the waie, but of the order, whiche had not his perfeccion and as i have saied, thei ought to provide, not with blamyng the order, but with redressing it, the whiche how it ought to be doen, you shall understande, from poinct to poinct. concernyng the doubte, leste soche ordinaunces, take not from thee thy state, by meane of one, whiche is made hedde therof, i answere, that the armure on the backes of citezeins, or subjectes, given by the disposicion of order and lawe, did never harme, but rather alwaies it doeth good, and mainteineth the citee, moche lenger in suretie, through helpe of this armure, then without. rome continued free cccc. yeres, and was armed. sparta viii.c. many other citees have been disarmed, and have remained free, lesse then xl. for as moche as citees have nede of defence, and when thei have no defence of their owne, thei hire straungers, and the straunges defence, shall hurte moche soner the common weale, then their owne: bicause thei be moche easier to be corrupted, and a citezein that becommeth mightie, maie moche soner usurpe, and more easely bryng his purpose to passe, where the people bee disarmed, that he seketh to oppresse: besides this, a citee ought to feare a greate deale more, twoo enemies then one. thesame citee that useth straungers power, feareth at one instant the straunger, whiche it hireth, and the citezein: and whether this feare ought to be, remember thesame, whiche i rehearsed a little a fore of frances sforza. that citee, whiche useth her own proper power, feareth no man, other then onely her owne citezein. but for all the reasons that maie bee saied, this shall serve me, that never any ordeined any common weale, or kyngdome, that would not thinke, that thei theim selves, that inhabite thesame, should with their sweardes defende it. and if the venicians had been so wise in this, as in all their other orders, thei should have made a new monarchie in the world, whom so moche the more deserve blame, havyng been armed of their first giver of lawes: for havyng no dominion on the lande, thei wer armed on the sea, where thei made their warre vertuously, and with weapons in their handes, increased their countrie. but when thei were driven to make warre on the lande, to defende vicenza, where thei ought to have sent one of their citezens, to have fought on the lande, thei hired for their capitain, the marques of mantua: this was thesame foolishe acte, whiche cut of their legges, from climyng into heaven, and from enlargyng their dominion: and if thei did it, bicause thei beleved that as thei knewe, how to make warre on the sea, so thei mistrusted theim selves, to make it on the lande, it was a mistruste not wise: for as moche as more easely, a capitain of the sea, whiche is used to fight with the windes, with the water, and with men, shall become a capitaine of the lande, where he shall fight with men onely, then a capitaine of the lande, to become a capitain of the sea. the romanies knowyng how to fight on the lande, and on the sea, commyng to warre, with the carthaginens, whiche were mightie on the sea, hired not grekes, or spaniardes, accustomed to the sea, but thei committed thesame care, to their citezeins, whiche thei sent on the land, and thei overcame. if thei did it, for that one of their citezeins should not become a tiraunt, it was a feare smally considered: for that besides thesame reasons, whiche to this purpose, a little afore i have rehearsed, if a citezein with the powers on the sea, was never made a tiraunt in a citee standyng in the sea, so moche the lesse he should have been able to accomplishe this with the powers of the lande: whereby thei ought to se that the weapons in the handes of their citezeins, could not make tirantes: but the naughtie orders of the governement, whiche maketh tirannie in a citee, and thei havyng good governement, thei nede not to feare their owne weapons: thei toke therefore an unwise waie, the whiche hath been occasion, to take from them moche glorie, and moche felicitie. concernyng the erroure, whiche the kyng of fraunce committeth not kepyng instructed his people in the warre, the whiche those your wise men alledge for ensample, there is no man, (his particulare passions laied a side) that doeth not judge this fault, to be in thesame kyngdome, and this negligence onely to make hym weake. but i have made to greate a digression, and peradventure am come out of my purpose, albeit i have doen it to aunswere you, and to shewe you, that in no countrie, there can bee made sure foundacion, for defence in other powers but of their owne subjectes: and their own power, cannot be prepared otherwise, then by waie of an ordinaunce, nor by other waie, to induce the facion of an armie in any place, nor by other meane to ordein an instruction of warfare. if you have red the orders, whiche those first kynges made in rome, and inespecially servio tullo, you shall finde that the orders of the classi is no other, then an ordinaunce, to bee able at a sodaine, to bryng together an armie, for defence of thesame citee. but let us retourne to our choise, i saie againe, that havyng to renewe an olde order, i would take them of xvii. havyng to make a newe armie, i would take them of all ages, betwene xvii. and xl. to be able to warre straight waie. [sidenote: of what science soldiours ought to bee chosen.] cosimo. would you make any difference, of what science you would chuse them? fabricio. the aucthours, which have written of the arte of warre, make difference, for that thei will not, that there bee taken foulers, fishers, cookes, baudes, nor none that use any science of voluptuousnesse. but thei will, that there bee taken plowmen, ferrars, smithes, carpenters, buchars, hunters, and soche like: but i would make little difference, through conjecture of the science, concernyng the goodnesse of the man, notwithstandyng, in as moche as to be able with more profite to use theim, i would make difference, and for this cause, the countrie men, which are used to till the grounde, are more profitable then any other. next to whom be smithes, carpentars, ferrars, masons, wherof it is profitable to have enough: for that their occupacions, serve well in many thynges: beyng a thyng verie good to have a souldiour, of whom maie be had double servise. [sidenote: howe to chose a souldiour.] cosimo. wherby doe thei knowe those, that be, or are not sufficient to serve. fabricio. i will speake of the maner of chusing a new ordinaunce, to make an armie after, for that parte of this matter, doeth come also to be reasoned of, in the election, which should be made for the replenishing, or restoring of an old ordinaunce. i saie therfore, that the goodnesse of one, whiche thou muste chuse for a souldiour, is knowen either by experience, thorough meane of some of his worthy doynges, or by conjecture. the proofe of vertue, cannot be founde in men whiche are chosen of newe, and whiche never afore have ben chosen, and of these are founde either fewe or none, in the ordinaunce that of newe is ordeined. it is necessarie therefore, lackyng this experience, to runne to the conjecture, whiche is taken by the yeres, by the occupacion, and by the personage: of those two first, hath been reasoned, there remaineth to speake of the thirde. and therefore, i saie how some have willed, that the souldiour bee greate, emongest whom was pirrus. some other have chosen theim onely, by the lustinesse of the body, as cesar did: whiche lustinesse of bodie and mynde, is conjectured by the composicion of the members, and of the grace of the countenaunce: and therefore, these that write saie, that thei would have the iyes lively and cherefull, the necke full of sinowes, the breaste large, the armes full of musculles, the fingers long, little beallie, the flankes rounde, the legges and feete drie: whiche partes are wont alwayes to make a manne nimble and strong, whiche are twoo thynges, that in a souldiour are sought above al other. regarde ought to bee had above all thynges, to his customes, and that in hym bee honestie, and shame: otherwise, there shall bee chosen an instrumente of mischief, and a beginnyng of corrupcion: for that lette no manne beleve that in the dishoneste educacion, and filthy minde, there maie take any vertue, whiche is in any parte laudable. and i thinke it not superfluous, but rather i beleve it to bee necessarie, to the entente you maie the better understande, the importaunce of this chosen, to tell you the maner that the romaine consuls, in the beginnyng of their rule, observed in the chosing of their romain legions: in the whiche choise of men, bicause thesame legions were mingled with old souldiours and newe, consideryng the continuall warre thei kepte, thei might in their choise procede, with the experince of the old, and with the conjecture of the newe: and this ought to be noted, that these men be chosen, either to serve incontinently, or to exercise theim incontinently, and after to serve when nede should require. but my intencion is to shew you, how an armie maie be prepared in the countrie, where there is no warlike discipline: in which countrie, chosen men cannot be had, to use them straight waie, but there, where the custome is to levie armies, and by meane of the prince, thei maie then well bee had, as the romaines observed, and as is observed at this daie emong the suisers: bicause in these chosen, though there be many newe menne, there be also so many of the other olde souldiours, accustomed to serve in the warlike orders, where the newe mingled together with the olde, make a bodie united and good, notwithstanding, that themperours after, beginning the staciones of ordinarie souldiours, had appoincted over the newe souldiours, whiche were called tironi, a maister to exercise theim, as appeareth in the life of massimo the emperour. the whiche thyng, while rome was free, not onely in the armies, but in the citee was ordeined: and the exercises of warre, beyng accustomed in thesame, where the yong men did exercise, there grewe, that beyng chosen after to goe into warre, thei were so used in the fained exercise of warfare, that thei could easely worke in the true: but those emperours havyng after put doune these exercises, thei wer constrained to use the waies, that i have shewed you. therefore, comyng to the maner of the chosen romain, i saie that after the romain consulles (to whom was appoincted the charge of the warre) had taken the rule, myndyng to ordeine their armies, for that it was the custome, that either of them should have twoo legions of romaine menne, whiche was the strength of their armies, thei created xxiiii. tribunes of warre, and thei appoincted sixe for every legion, whom did thesame office, whiche those doe now a daies, that we call conestables: thei made after to come together, all the romain men apte to beare weapons and thei put the tribunes of every legion, seperate the one from the other. afterwarde, by lot thei drewe the tribes, of whiche thei had firste to make the chosen, and of thesame tribe thei chose fower of the best, of whiche was chosen one of the tribunes, of the first legion, and of the other three was chosen, one of the tribunes of the second legion, of the other two there was chosen one of the tribunes of the third, and the same last fell to the fowerth legion. after these iiij, thei chose other fower, of which, first one was chosen of the tribunes of the seconde legion, the seconde of those of the thirde, the thirde of those of the fowerth, the fowerth remained to the first. after, thei chose other fower, the first chose the thirde, the second the fowerth, the thirde the fiveth, the fowerth remained to the seconde: and thus thei varied successively, this maner of chosyng, so that the election came to be equall, and the legions wer gathered together: and as afore we saied, this choise might bee made to use straighte waie, for that thei made them of men, of whom a good parte were experiensed in the verie warfare in deede, and all in the fained exercised, and thei might make this choise by conjecture, and by experience. but where a power must be ordeined of newe, and for this to chuse them out of hande, this chosen cannot be made, saving by conjecture, whiche is taken by consideryng their ages and their likelinesse. cosimo. i beleve all to be true, as moche as of you hath been spoken: but before that you procede to other reasonyng, i woll aske of you one thing, which you have made me to remember: saiyng that the chosen, that is to be made where men were not used to warre, ought to be made by conjecture: for asmoche as i have heard some men, in many places dispraise our ordinaunce, and in especially concernyng the nomber, for that many saie, that there ought to bee taken lesse nomber, whereof is gotten this profite, that thei shall be better and better chosen, and men shal not be so moche diseased, so that there maie bee given them some rewarde, whereby thei maie bee more contented, and better bee commaunded, whereof i would understande in this parte your opinion, and whether you love better the greate nomber, than the little, and what waie you would take to chuse theim in the one, and in the other nomber. fabricio. without doubte it is better, and more necessary, the great nomber, then the little: but to speake more plainly, where there cannot be ordeined a great nomber of men, there cannot be ordeined a perfect ordinaunce: and i will easely confute all the reasons of them propounded. i saie therefore firste, that the lesse nomber where is many people, as is for ensample tuscane, maketh not that you have better, nor that the chosen be more excellent, for that myndyng in chosing the menne, to judge them by experience, there shall be founde in thesame countrie moste fewe, whom experience should make provable, bothe for that fewe hath been in warre, as also for that of those, mooste fewe have made triall, whereby thei might deserve to bee chosen before the other: so that he whiche ought in like places to chuse, it is mete he leave a parte the experience, and take them by conjecture. then being brought likewise into soche necessitie, i would understande, if there come before me twentie young men of good stature, with what rule i ought to take, or to leave any: where without doubte, i beleve that every man will confesse, how it is lesse errour to take them al, to arme theim and exercise theim, beyng not able to knowe, whiche of theim is beste, and to reserve to make after more certaine chosen, when in practisyng theim with exercise, there shall be knowen those of moste spirite, and of moste life: which considered, the chusing in this case a fewe, to have them better, is altogether naught. concernyng diseasing lesse the countrie, and men, i saie that the ordinaunce, either evill or little that it bee, causeth not any disease, for that this order doeth not take menne from any of their businesse, it bindeth them not, that thei cannot go to doe any of their affaires: for that it bindeth them onely in the idell daies, to assemble together, to exercise them, the whiche thyng doeth not hurt, neither to the countrie, nor to the men, but rather to yong men it shall bryng delite: for that where vilie on the holy daies thei stande idell in tipplyng houses, thei will go for pleasure to those exercises, for that the handlyng of weapons, as it is a goodly spectacle, so unto yong men it is pleasaunt. concernyng to bee able to paie the lesse nomber, and for this to kepe theim more obediente, and more contented, i answere, how there cannot be made an ordinaunce of so fewe, whiche maie be in maner continually paied, where thesame paiment of theirs maie satisfie them. as for ensample, if there were ordeined a power of v. thousande men, for to paie them after soche sorte, that it might be thought sufficient, to content them, it shal bee convenient to give theim at least, ten thousaunde crounes the moneth: first, this nomber of men are not able to make an armie, this paie is intolerable to a state, and of the other side, it is not sufficiente to kepe men contented, and bounde to be able to serve at al times: so that in doyng this, there shall be spent moche, and a small power kept, whiche shall not be sufficient to defend thee, or to doe any enterprise of thine. if thou shouldest give theim more, or shouldest take more, so moche more impossibilitie it should be, for thee to paie theim: if thou shouldest give them lesse, or should take lesse, so moche the lesse contentacion should be in them, or so moche the lesse profite thei shal bring thee. therfore, those that reason of makyng an ordinaunce, and whilest thei tary at home to paie them, thei reason of a thing either impossible, or unprofitable, but it is necessarie to paie them, when thei are taken up to be led to the warre: albeit, though soche order should somewhat disease those, in time of peace, that are appoincted in thesame, which i se not how, there is for recompence all those benefites, whiche a power brynges, that is ordeined in a countrie: for that without thesame, there is nothyng sure. i conclude, that he that will have the little nomber, to be able to paie them, or for any of the other causes alledged of you, doeth not understande, for that also it maketh for my opinion, that every nomber shall deminishe in thy handes, through infinite impedimentes, whiche men have: so that the little nomber shall tourne to nothing: again havyng thordinaunce greate, thou maiest at thy pleasure use fewe of many, besides this, it must serve thee in deede, and in reputacion and alwaies the great nomber shall give thee moste reputacion. more over, makyng the ordinaunce to kepe menne exercised, if thou appoincte a fewe nomber of men in many countries, the handes of men bee so farre a sonder, the one from the other, that thou canst not without their moste grevous losse, gather them together to exercise them, and without this exercise, the ordinaunce is unprofitable, as hereafter shall be declared. cosimo. it suffiseth upon this my demaunde, that whiche you have saied: but i desire now, that you declare me an other doubt. thei saie, that soche a multitude of armed men, will make confusion, discension and disorder in the countrie where thei are. [sidenote: how to provid againste soche inconveniences as souldiours maie cause.] fabricio. this is an other vaine opinion, the cause wherof, i shall tell you: soche as are ordeined to serve in the warres, maie cause disorder in twoo maners, either betwene them selves, or against other, whiche thinges moste easely maie be withstode, where the order of it self, should not withstande it: for that concernyng the discorde emong theim selves, this order taketh it waie, and doeth not nourishe it, for that in orderyng them, you give them armour and capitaines. if the countrie where you ordein them, bee so unapte for the warre, that there are not armours emong the men of thesame, and that thei bee so united, that thei have no heddes, this order maketh theim moche fearser against the straunger, but it maketh them not any thyng the more disunited, for that men well ordered, feare the lawe beyng armed, as well as unarmed, nor thei can never alter, if the capitaines, which you give them, cause not the alteracion, and the waie to make this, shall be tolde now: but if the countrie where you ordein them, be warlike and disunited, this order onely shal be occasion to unite them: bicause this order giveth them armours profitable for the warre, and heddes, extinguishers of discencion: where their owne armours bee unprofitable for the warres, and their heddes nourishers of discorde. for that so sone as any in thesame countrie is offended, he resorteth by and by to his capitain to make complaint, who for to maintain his reputacion, comforteth hym to revengement not to peace. to the contrary doeth the publike hed, so that by this meanes, thoccasion of discorde is taken awaie, and the occasion of union is prepared, and the provinces united and effeminated, gette utilitie, and maintain union: the disunited and discencious, doe agree, and thesame their fearsnesse, which is wont disordinately to worke, is tourned into publike utilitie. to minde to have them, to doe no hurt against other, it ought to bee considered, that thei cannot dooe this, except by meane of the heddes, whiche governe them. to will that the heddes make no disorder, it is necessarie to have care, that thei get not over them to much auctoritie. and you must consider that this auctoritie, is gotten either by nature, or by accidente: and as to nature, it behoveth to provide, that he which is boren in one place, be not apoincted to the men billed in the same, but be made hedde of those places, where he hath not any naturall aquaintance: and as to the accident, the thing ought to be ordeined in suche maner, that every yere the heddes maie be changed from governement to goverment: for as muche as the continuall auctoritie over one sorte of menne, breedeth among them so muche union, that it maie turne easely to the prejudice of the prince: whiche permutations howe profitable they be to those who have used theim, and hurtefull to them that have not observed theim, it is well knowen by the kingdome of the assirians, and by the empire of the romaines: where is seene, that the same kingdome indured a m. yeres without tumulte, and without any civill warre: whiche preceded not of other, then of the permutations, whiche from place to place everie yere thesame capitaines made, unto whome were apoincted the charge of the armies. nor for any other occasion in the romaine empire, after the bloud of cesar was extinguished, there grewe so many civill warres, betwene the capitaines of the hostes, and so many conspiracies of the forsaied capitaines against the emperours, not onely kepyng continually still those capitaines alwayes in one governement. and if in some of those firste emperoures, of those after, whom helde the empire with reputacion, as adriane, marcus, severus, and soche like, there had been so moche foresight, that thei had brought this custome of chaungyng the capitaines in thesame empire, without doubte it should have made theim more quiete, and more durable: for that the capitaines should have had lesse occasion to make tumultes, the emperours lesse cause to feare, and the senate in the lackes of the successions, should have had in the election of the emperour, more aucthoritie, and by consequence should have been better: but the naughtie custome, either for ignoraunce, or through the little diligence of menne, neither for the wicked, nor good ensamples, can be taken awaie. cosimo. i cannot tell, if with my questionyng, i have as it were led you out of your order, bicause from the chusyng of men, we be entred into an other matter, and if i had not been a little before excused, i should thinke to deserve some reprehension. [sidenote: the nomber of horsemen, that the romanies chose for a legion, and for a consailes armie.] fabricio. let not this disquiete you, for that all this reasonyng was necessary, myndyng to reason of the ordinaunce, the which beyng blamed of many, it was requsite to excuse it, willyng to have this first parte of chusyng men to be alowed. but now before i discend to the other partes, i will reason of the choise of men on horsebacke. of the antiquitie, these were made of the moste richeste, havyng regard bothe to the yeres, and to the qualitie of the man, and thei chose ccc. for a legion, so that the romain horse, in every consulles armie, passed not the nomber of vi. c. cosimo. would you make an ordinaunce of hors, to exercise them at home, and to use their service when nede requires? [sidenote: the choosing and ordering of horsemen, that is to be observed at this present.] fabricio. it is most necessary, and it cannot be doen otherwise, minding to have the power, that it be the owne proper, and not to purpose to take of those, which make thereof an art. cosimo. how would you choose them? fabricio. i would imitate the romans, i would take of the richest, i would give them heads or chief captains, in the same manner, as nowadays to other is given, and i would arm them and exercise them. cosimo. to these should it be well to give some provision? fabricio. yea marie, but so much only as is necessary to keep the horse, for as much as bringing to thy subjects expenses, they might justly complain of thee, therefore it should be necessary, to pay them their charges of their horse. cosimo. what number would you make? and how would you arme them? fabricio. you pass into another matter. i will tell you in convenient place, which shall be when i have told you, how footmen ought to be armed, and how a power of men is prepared, for a day of battle. the second booke [sidenote: howe the romaines armed their souldiers and what weapons thei used.] i beleeve that it is necessarye, men being founde, to arme them, and minding to doo this, i suppose that it is a needefull thing to examine, what armoure the antiquitie used, and of the same to chose the best. the romanes devided their foote men in heavie and lighte armed: those that were light armed, they called by the name of veliti: under this name were understoode all those that threwe with slinges, shot with crossebowes, cast dartes, and they used the most parte of them for their defence, to weare on their heade a murion, with a targaet on their arme: they fought out of the orders, and farre of from the heavie armed, which did weare a head peece, that came downe to their shoulders, a corselet, which with the tases came downe to the knees, and they had the legges and armes, covered with greaves, and vambraces, with a targaet on the left arme, a yarde and a halfe long, and three quarters of a yarde brode, whiche had a hoope of iron upon it, to bee able to sustaine a blowe, and an other under, to the intente, that it being driven to the earth, it should not breake: for to offende, they had girte on their left flanke a swoorde, the length of a yearde and a naile, on their righte side, a dagger: they had a darte in every one of their handes, the which they called pilo, and in the beginning of the fight, they threwe those at the enemie. this was the ordering, and importaunce of the armours of the romanes, by the which they possessed all the world. and although some of these ancient writers gave them, besides the foresayde weapons, a staffe in their hande like unto a partasen, i cannot tell howe a heavy staff, may of him that holdeth a targaet be occupied: for that to handle it with both hands, the targaet should bee an impediment, and to occupye the same with one hande, there can be done no good therewith, by reason of the weightynesse thereof: besides this, to faight in the strong, and in the orders with such long kinde of weapon, it is unprofitable, except in the first front, where they have space enough, to thrust out all the staffe, which in the orders within, cannot be done, for that the nature of the battaile (as in the order of the same, i shall tell you) is continually to throng together, which although it be an inconvenience, yet in so doing they fear lesse, then to stande wide, where the perill is most evident, so that all the weapons, which passe in length a yarde and a halfe, in the throng, be unprofitable: for that, if a man have the partasen, and will occupye it with both handes, put case that the targaet let him not, he can not hurte with the same an enemy, whom is upon him, if he take it with one hande, to the intent to occupy also the targaet, being not able to take it, but in the middest, there remayneth so much of the staff behind, that those which are behinde him, shall let him to welde it. and whether it were true, either that the romans had not this partasen, or that having it, did little good withal, read all the battailes, in the historye thereof, celebrated of titus livius, and you shall see in the same, most seldom times made mencion of partasens, but rather alwaies he saieth, that the dartes being thrown, they laid their hands on their sweardes. therefore i will leave this staffe, and observe, concerning the romanes, the swoorde for to hurte, and for defense the targaet, with the other armours aforesaide. [sidenote: a brave and a terrible thing to the enemies.] the greekes did not arme them selves so heavyly, for their defense, as the romans dyd: but for to offend the enemies, they grounded more on their staves, then on their swoordes, and in especiallye the fallangye of macedonia, which used staves, that they called sarisse, seven yardes and a halfe long, with the which they opened the rankes of their enemies, and they keept the orders in their fallangy. and although some writers saie, that they had also the targaet, i can not tell (by the reasons aforesayde) howe the sarisse and they coulde stande together. besides this, in the battaile that paulus emilius made, with persa king of macedonia, i do not remember, that there is made any mention of targaettes, but only of the sarisse, and of the difficultie that the romane armie had, to overcome them: so that i conjecture, that a macedonicall fallange, was no other wise, then is now a dayes a battaile of suizzers, the whiche in their pikes have all their force, and all their power. the romanes did garnish (besides the armours) the footemen with feathers; the whiche thinges makes the fight of an armie to the friendes goodly, to the enemies terrible. the armour of the horsemen, in the same first romane antiquitie, was a rounde targaet, and they had their head armed, and the rest unarmed: they had a swoorde and a staffe, with an iron head onely before, long and small: whereby it happened, that they were not able to staye the targaet, and the staffe in the incountring broke, and they through being unarmed, were subjecte to hurtes: after, in processe of time, they armed them as the footemen, albeit they used the targaette muche shorter, square, and the staffe more stiffe, and with twoo heades, to the entente, that breaking one of the heades, they mighte prevaile with the other. with these armours as well on foote, as on horsebacke, the romanes conquered all the worlde, and it is to be beleeved, by the fruiet thereof, whiche is seene, that they were the beste appointed armies, that ever were: and titus livius in his history, doeth testifie verye often, where comming to comparison with the enemies armies, he saieth: but the romanes, by vertue, by the kinde of their armours, and piactise in the service of warre, were superiours: and therfore i have more particularly reasoned of the armours of conquerours, then of the conquered. but nowe mee thikes good, to reason onelye of the manner of arming men at this presente. footemen have for their defence, a breast plate, and for to offende, a launce, sixe yardes and three quarters long, which is called a pike, with a swoorde on their side, rather rounde at the poinct, then sharpe. this is the ordinarie arming of footemen nowe a dayes, for that fewe there be, which have their legges armed, and their armes, the heade none, and those fewe, beare insteede of a pike, a halberde, the staffe whereof as you know, is twoo yardes and a quarter long, and it hath the iron made like an axe. betweene them, they have harkebutters, the which with the violence of the fire, do the same office, which in olde time the slingers did, and the crosseboweshoters. this maner of arming, was found out by the dutchemen, inespeciallye of suizzers, whom being poore, and desirous to live free, they were, and be constrayned to fight, with the ambition of the princes of almaine, who being riche, were able to keepe horse, the which the same people could not do for povertye. wherby it grewe, that being on foote, minding to defende them selves from the enemies, that were on horsebacke, it behooveth them to seeke of the aunciente orders, and to finde weapons, whiche from the furie of horses, should defende them: this necessitie hath made either to be maintayned, or to bee founde of them the aunciente orders, without whiche, as everye prudente man affirmeth, the footemen is altogether unprofitable. therefore, they tooke for their weapon the pike, a moste profitable weapon, not only to withstande horses, but to overcome them: and the dutchemen have by vertue of these weapons, and of these orders, taken such boldnesse, that xv. or xx. thousande of them, will assault the greatest nomber of horse that maye be: and of this, there hath beene experience enough within this xxv. yeres. and the insamples of their vertue hath bene so mightie, grounded upon these weapons, and these orders, that sence king charles passed into italie, everye nation hath imitated them: so that the spanish armies, are become into most great reputation. cosimo. which maner of arming, do you praise moste, either these dutchemens, or the auncient romanes? [sidenote: whether the romanes maner in arming of men, be better then the arming of men, that is used nowe a daies.] fabricio. the romane without doubte, and i will tell the commoditie, and the discommoditie of the one, and the other. the dutche footemen, are able to withstande, and overcome the horses: they bee moste speedie to marche, and to be set in araye, being not laden with armours: of the other part, they be subjecte to all blowes, both farre of, and at hande: because they be unarmed, they bee unprofitable unto the battaile on the lande, and to everye fighte, where is strong resistaunce. but the romanes withstoode, and overcame the horses, as well as the dutchemen, they were safe from blowes at hande, and farre of, being covered with armours: they were also better able to charge, and better able to sustaine charges, having targaettes: they might more aptly in the preace fight with the swoorde, then these with the pike, and though the dutchemen have likewise swoordes, yet being without targaets, they become in suche case unprofitable: the romanes might safelye assault townes, having their bodies cleane covered with armour, and being better able to cover themselves with their targaettes. so that they had no other incommoditie, then the waightynesse of their armours, and the pain to cary them: the whiche thinges thei overcame, with accustomyng the body to diseases, and with hardenyng it, to bee able to indure labour. and you knowe, how that in thinges accustomed, men suffer no grief. and you have to understand this, that the footemen maie be constrained, to faight with footemen, and with horse, and alwaies those be unprofitable, whiche cannot either sustain the horses, or beyng able to sustain them, have notwithstandyng neede to feare the footemen, whiche be better armed, and better ordeined then thei. now if you consider the duchemen, and the romaines, you shall finde in the duchemen activitie (as we have said) to overcome the horses, but greate dissavauntage, when thei faighte with menne, ordeined as thei them selves are, and armed as the romaines were: so that there shall be this advauntage more of the one, then of thother, that the romaines could overcome the men, and the horses, the duchemen onely the horses. cosimo. i would desire, that you would come to some more particulare insample, whereby wee maie better understande. [sidenote: an ensample whiche proveth that horsemen with staves, cannot prevaile against footemen with pikes, and what great advauntage the armed have, againste the unarmed. the victory of carminvola against the duchemen.] fabricio. i saie thus, that you shall finde in many places of our histories, the romain footemen to have overcome innumerable horses, and you shall never finde, that thei have been overcome of men on foote, for default that thei have had in their armour, or thorowe the vantage that the enemie hath had in the armours: for that if the maner of their armyng, should have had defaulte, it had been necessarie, that there should folowe, the one of these twoo thynges, either that findyng soche, as should arme theim better then thei, thei should not have gone still forwardes, with their conquestes, or that thei should have taken the straungers maners, and should have left their owne, and for that it folowed not in the one thing, nor in the other, there groweth that ther maie be easely conjectured, that the maner of their armyng, was better then thesame of any other. it is not yet thus happened to the duchemen, for that naughtie profe, hath ben seen made them, when soever thei have chaunsed to faight with men on foote prepared, and as obstinate as thei, the whiche is growen of the vauntage, whiche thesame have incountred in thenemies armours. philip vicecounte of milaine, being assaulted of xviii. thousande suizzers, sent against theim the counte carminvola, whiche then was his capitaine. he with sixe thousande horse, and a fewe footemen, went to mete with them, and incounteryng theim, he was repulsed with his moste greate losse: wherby carminvola as a prudente man, knewe straight waie the puisaunce of the enemies weapons, and how moche against the horses thei prevailed, and the debilitie of the horses, againste those on foote so appoincted: and gatheryng his men together again, he went to finde the suizzers, and so sone as he was nere them, he made his men of armes, to a light from their horse, and in thesame mane, faightyng with them he slue theim all, excepte three thousande: the whiche seyng them selves to consume, without havyng reamedy, castyng their weapons to the grounde, yelded. cosimo. whereof cometh so moche disavauntage? [sidenote: the battailes when thei are a faightyng, doe throng together.] fabricio. i have a little afore tolde you, but seyng that you have not understoode it, i will rehearse it againe. the duchemen (as a little before i saied unto you) as it were unarmed, to defende themselves, have to offende, the pike and the swearde: thei come with these weapons, and with their orders to finde the enemies, whom if thei bee well armed, to defende theim selves, as were the menne of armes of carminvola, whiche made theim a lighte on foote, thei come with the sweard, and in their orders to find them, and have no other difficultie, then to come nere to the suizzers, so that thei maie reche them with the sweard, for that so sone as thei have gotten unto them, thei faight safely: for asmoche as the duch man cannot strike thenemie with the pike, whom is upon him, for the length of the staffe, wherefore it is conveniente for hym, to put the hande to the sweard, the whiche to hym is unprofitable, he beyng unarmed, and havyng against hym an enemie, that is all armed. whereby he that considereth the vantage, and the disavantage of the one, and of the other, shall see, how the unarmed, shall have no maner of remeady, and the overcommyng of the firste faight, and to passe the firste poinctes of the pikes, is not moche difficulte, he that faighteth beyng well armed: for that the battailes go (as you shall better understande, when i have shewed you, how thei are set together) and incounteryng the one the other, of necessitie thei thrust together, after soche sorte, that thei take the one thother by the bosome, and though by the pikes some bee slaine, or overthrowen, those that remain on their feete, be so many, that thei suffice to obtaine the victorie. hereof it grewe, that carminvola overcame them, with so greate slaughter of the suizzers, and with little losse of his. cosimo. consider that those of carminvola, were men of armes, whom although thei wer on foote, thei were covered all with stele, and therefore thei wer able to make the profe thei did: so that me thinkes, that a power ought to be armed as thei, mindyng to make the verie same profe. fabricio. if you should remember, how i tolde you the romaines were armed, you would not thynke so: for as moche as a manne, that hath the hedde covered with iron, the breaste defended of a corselet, and of a targaet, the armes and the legges armed, is moche more apt to defende hymself from the pike, and to enter emong them, then a man of armes on foote. i wil give you a little of a late ensample. there wer come out of cicelie, into the kyngdome of naples, a power of spaniardes, for to go to finde consalvo, who was besieged in barlet, of the frenchemen: there made against theim mounsier de vhigni, with his menne of armes, and with aboute fower thousande duchemen on foote: the duchemen incountered with their pikes lowe, and thei opened the power of the spaniardes: but those beyng holp, by meane of their bucklers and of the agiletie of their bodies, mingled togethers with the duchemen, so that thei might reche them with the swearde, whereby happened the death, almoste of all theim, and the victorie to the spaniardes. every man knoweth, how many duchemen were slaine in the battaile of ravenna, the whiche happened by the verie same occasion: for that the spanishe souldiours, got them within a swerdes length of the duche souldiours, and thei had destroied them all, if of the frenche horsemen, the duchemen on foote, had not been succored: notwithstandyng, the spaniardes close together, brought themselves into a safe place. i conclude therefore, that a good power ought not onely to be able, to withstande the horses, but also not to have fear of menne on foote, the which (as i have many tymes saied) procedeth of the armours, and of the order. [sidenote: how to arme men, and what weapons to appoincte theim, after the romaine maner, and duche facion.] cosimo. tell therefore, how you would arme them? fabricio. i would take of the romaine armours, and of the duchemennes weapons, and i would that the one haulfe, should bee appoincted like the romaines, and the other haulfe like the duchemen: for that if in sixe thousande footemen (as i shall tell you a little hereafter) i should have thre thousande men with targaettes, after the romain maner, and two thousande pikes, and a thousand harkebutters, after the duche facion, thei should sufice me: for that i would place the pikes, either in the fronte of the battaile, or where i should feare moste the horses, and those with the targaetes and sweardes, shall serve me to make a backe to the pikes, and to winne the battaile, as i shall shewe you: so that i beleeve, that a power thus ordayned, should overcome at this daye, any other power. cosimo. this which hath beene saide, sufficeth concerning footemen, but concerning horsemen, wee desire to understand which you thinke more stronger armed, either ours, or the antiquitie. [sidenote: the victorie of lucullo, against tiarane king of armenia; for what pupose horsemen be most requisite.] fabricio. i beleeve that in these daies, having respect to the saddelles bolstered, and to the stiroppes not used of the antiquitie, they stande more stronglye on horsebacke, then in the olde time: i thinke also they arme them more sure: so that at this daye, a bande of men of armes, paysing very muche, commeth to be with more difficultie withstoode, then were the horsemen of old time: notwithstanding for all this, i judge, that there ought not to be made more accompt of horses, then in olde time was made, for that (as afore is sayde) manye times in our dayes, they have with the footemen receyved shame and shall receyve alwayes, where they incounter, with a power of footemen armed, and ordered, as above hath bene declared. tigrane king of armenia, had againste the armie of the romanes, wherof was capitayne lucullo, cl. thousande horsemen, amongest the whiche, were many armed, like unto our men of armes, which they called catafratti, and of the other parte, the romanes were about sixe thousande, with xxv. thousand footemen: so that tigrane seeing the armie of the enemies, saide: these be horses enough for an imbassage: notwithstanding, incountering together, he was overthrowen: and he that writeth of the same fighte, disprayseth those catafratti, declaring them to be unprofitable; for that hee sayeth, because they had their faces covered, they had muche a doe to see, and to offende the enemie, and they falling, being laden with armour coulde not rise up again, nor welde themselves in any maner to prevaile. i say therefore, that those people or kingdomes, whiche shall esteeme more the power of horses, then the power of footemen be alwaies weake, and subjecte to all ruine, as by italie hath been seene in our time, the whiche hath beene taken, ruinated, and over run with straungers, through not other fault, then for having taken litle care, of the service on foote, and being brought the souldiours therof, all on horsebacke. yet there ought to bee had horses, but for seconde, and not for firste foundaion of an armie: for that to make a discovery, to over run and to destroy the enemies countrie, and to keepe troubled and disquieted, the armie of the same, and in their armours alwayes, to let them of their victuals, they are necessary, and most profitable: but concerning for the daye of battaile, and for the fighte in the fielde, whiche is the importaunce of the warre, and the ende, for which the armies are ordeined, they are more meeter to follow the enemie being discomfited then to do any other thing which in the same is to be done, and they bee in comparison, to the footemen much inferiour. cosimo. there is happened unto mee twoo doubtes, the one, where i knowe, that the parthians dyd not use in the warre, other then horses, and yet they devided the worlde with the romanes: the other is, that i woulde that you should shewe, howe the horsemen can be withstoode of footemen, and wherof groweth the strength of these, and the debilitie of those? [sidenote: the reason why footmen are able to overcome horsemen; how footmen maie save them selves from horsemen; the exercise of souldiours, ought to be devided into thre partes; what exercises the auncient common weales used to exercise their youth in, and what commoditie insued thereby; how the antiquitie, learned their yong soldiours, to handell their weapons; what thantiquitie estemed moste happie in a common weale; mouster maisters; for thexercisyng of yong men unexperte.] fabricio. either i have tolde you, or i minded to tell you, howe that my reasoning of the affaires of warre, ought not to passe the boundes of europe: when thus it is, i am not bounde unto you, to make accompte of the same, which is used in asia, yet i muste saye unto you thus, that the warring of the parthians, was altogether contrarye, to the same of the romanes: for as muche as the parthians, warred all on horsebacke, and in the fight, they proceeded confusedlye, and scattered, and it was a maner of fighte unstable, and full of uncertaintie. the romanes were (it maye be sayde) almoste al on foote, and thei fought close together and sure, and thei overcame diversly, the one the other, according to the largenesse, or straightnesse of the situation: for that in this the romaines were superiours, in thesame the parthians, whom might make greate proofe, with thesame maner of warryng, consideryng the region, which thei had to defende, the which was moste large: for as moche as it hath the sea coaste, distant a thousande miles, the rivers thone from thother, twoo or three daies journey, the tounes in like maner and the inhabitauntes few: so that a romaine armie heavie and slowe, by meanes of their armoures, and their orders, could not over run it, without their grevous hurt (those that defended it, being on horsebacke mooste expedite) so that thei were to daie in one place, and to morowe distaunt fiftie miles. hereof it grewe, that the parthians might prevaile with their chivalrie onely, bothe to the ruine of the armie of crassus, and to the perill of thesame, of marcus antonius: but i (as i have told you) doe not intende in this my reasonyng, to speake of the warfare out of europe, therfore i will stand upon thesame, whiche in times past, the romaines ordained, and the grekes, and as the duchemen doe now adaies. but let us se to the other question of yours, where you desire to understande, what order, or what naturall vertue makes, that the footemen overcome the horsmen. and i saie unto you first that the horses cannot go, as the footmen in every place: thei are slower then the footemen to obeie, when it is requisite to alter the order: for as moche, as if it be nedefull, either goyng forward, to turne backwarde, or tournyng backwarde, to go forwarde, or to move themselves standing stil, or goyng to stand still, without doubt, the horsemen cannot dooe it so redilie as the footemen: the horsemen cannot, being of some violence, disordained, returne in their orders, but with difficultie, although thesame violence cease, the whiche the footemen dooe moste easely and quickly. besides this, it happeneth many tymes, that a hardie manne shall be upon a vile horse, and a coward upon a good, whereby it foloweth, that this evill matchyng of stomackes, makes disorder. nor no man doeth marvell, that a bande of footemenne, susteineth all violence of horse for that a horse is a beaste, that hath sence, and knoweth the perilles, and with an ill will, will enter in them: and if you consider, what force maketh theim go forwarde, and what holdeth them backwarde, you shall se without doubt thesame to be greater, whiche kepeth them backe, then that whiche maketh them go forwardes: for that the spurre maketh theim go forwarde, and of the other side, either the swearde, or the pike, kepeth theim backe: so that it hath been seen by the olde, and by the late experience, a bande of footemen to bee moste safe, ye, invinsible for horses. and if you should argue to this, that the heate, with whiche thei come, maketh theim more furious to incounter who that would withstande them, and lesse to regard the pike, then the spurre: i saie, that if the horse so disposed, begin to see, that he must run upon the poincte of the pike, either of himself, he wil refrain the course so that so sone as he shall feele himself pricked, he will stande still atones, or beeyng come to theim, he will tourne on the right, or on the lefte hande. whereof if you wil make experience, prove to run a horse against a walle: you shall finde fewe, with what so ever furie he come withall, will strike against it. cesar havyng in fraunce, to faighte with the suizzers, a lighted, and made every manne a light on foote, and to avoide from the araies, the horses, as a thyng more meete to flie, then to faight. but notwithstandyng these naturall impedimentes, whiche horses have, thesame capitaine, whiche leadeth the footemen, ought to chuse waies, whiche have for horse, the moste impedimentes that maie bee, and seldome tymes it happeneth, but that a manne maie save hymself, by the qualitie of the countrie: for that if thou marche on the hilles, the situacion doeth save thee from thesame furie, whereof you doubt, that thei go withail in the plain, fewe plaines be, whiche through the tillage or by meanes of the woddes, doe not assure thee: for that every hillocke, every bancke, although it be but small, taketh awaie thesame heate, and every culture where bee vines, and other trees, lettes the horses: and if thou come to battaile, the very same lettes happeneth, that chaunceth in marchyng: for as moche as every little impedemente, that the horse hath, abateth his furie. one thyng notwithstandyng, i will not forgette to tell you, how the romaines estemed so moche their orders, and trusted so moche to their weapons, that if thei shuld have had, to chuse either so rough a place to save theim selves from horses, where thei should not have been able, to raunge their orders, or a place where thei should have nede, to feare more of horses, but ben able to deffende their battaile, alwaies thei toke this, and left that: but bicause it is tyme, to passe to the armie, having armed these souldiours, accordyng to the aunciente and newe use, let us see what exercises the romaines caused theim make, before the menne were brought to the battaile. although thei be well chosen, and better armed, thei ought with moste greate studie be exercised, for that without this exercise, there was never any souldiour good: these exercises ought to be devided into three partes, the one, for to harden the bodie, and to make it apte to take paines, and to bee more swifter and more readier, the other, to teach them, how to handell their weapons, the third, for to learne them to kepe the orders in the armie, as well in marchyng, as in faightyng, and in the incampyng: the whiche be three principall actes, that an armie doeth: for asmoche, as if an armie marche, incampe, and faight with order, and expertly, the capitaine leseth not his honoure, although the battaile should have no good ende. therfore, all thauncient common weales, provided these exercises in maner, by custome, and by lawe, that there should not be left behinde any part thereof. thei exercised then their youth, for to make them swift, in runnyng, to make theim readie, in leapyng, for to make them strong, in throwyng the barre, or in wrestlyng: and these three qualities, be as it were necessarie in souldiours. for that swiftnesse, maketh theim apte to possesse places, before the enemie, and to come to them unloked for, and at unwares to pursue them, when thei are discomfaicted: the readinesse, maketh theim apte to avoide a blowe, to leape over a diche, to winne a banke: strength, maketh them the better able to beare their armours, to incounter the enemie, to withstande a violence. and above all, to make the bodie the more apte to take paines, thei used to beare greate burthens, the whiche custome is necessarie: for that in difficulte expedicions it is requisite many tymes, that the souldiour beside his armours, beare vitualles for many daies, and if he were not accustomed to this labour, he could not dooe it: and without this, there can neither bee avoided a perill, nor a victorie gotten with fame. concernyng to learne how to handell the weapons, thei exercised theim, in this maner: thei would have the yong menne, to put on armour, whiche should waie twise as moche, as their field armour, and in stede of a swearde, thei gave them a cudgell leaded, whiche in comparison of a verie swearde in deede, was moste heavie; thei made for every one of them, a poste to be set up in the ground, which should be in height twoo yardes and a quarter, and in soche maner, and so strong, that the blowes should not slur nor hurle it doune, against the whiche poste, the yong man with a targaet, and with the cudgell, as against an enemie did exercise, and some whiles he stroke, as though he would hurte the hedde, or the face, somewhile he retired backe, an other while he made forewarde: and thei had in this exercise, this advertisment, to make theim apt to cover theim selves, and to hurte the enemie: and havyng the counterfaight armours moste heavy, their ordinarie armours semed after unto them more lighter. the romanies, would that their souldiours should hurte with the pricke, and not with the cutte, as well bicause the pricke is more mortalle, and hath lesse defence, as also to thentent that he that should hurt, might lye the lesse open, and be more apt to redouble it, then with cuttes. dooe not marvaile that these auncient men, should thinke on these small thynges, for that where the incounteryng of men is reasoned of, you shall perceive, that every little vauntage, is of greate importaunce: and i remember you the same, whiche the writers of this declare, rather then i to teache you. the antiquitie estemed nothing move happie, in a common weale, then to be in thesame, many men exercised in armes: bicause not the shining of precious stones and of golde, maketh that the enemies submit themselves unto thee, but onely the fear of the weapons: afterwarde the errours whiche are made in other thynges, maie sometymes be corrected, but those whiche are dooen in the warre, the paine straight waie commyng on, cannot be amended. besides that, the knowlege to faight, maketh men more bold, bicause no man feareth to doe that thing, which he thinketh to have learned to dooe. the antiquitie would therefore, that their citezeins should exercise themselves, in all marcial feates, and thei made them to throwe against thesame poste, dartes moche hevier then the ordinarie: the whiche exercise, besides the makyng men expert in throwyng, maketh also the arme more nimble, and moche stronger. thei taught them also to shote in the long bowe, to whorle with the sling: and to all these thynges, thei appoincted maisters, in soche maner, that after when thei were chosen for to go to the warre, thei were now with mynde and disposicion, souldiours. nor there remained them to learn other, then to go in the orders, and to maintain them selves in those, either marchyng, or faightyng: the whiche moste easely thei learned, mingeling themselves with those, whiche had long tyme served, whereby thei knewe how to stande in the orders. cosimo. what exercises would you cause theim to make at this present? [sidenote: the exercises that souldiers ought to make in these daies; the exercise of swimmyng; tiber, is a river runnyng through rome the water wher of will never corrupte; thexercise of vautyng, and the commoditie thereof; an order that is taken in certain countries, concerning exercises of warre; what knowledge a souldiour ought to have; a cohorte is a bande of men; of what nomer and of what kind of armours and weapons, a maine battaile ought to bee, and the distributing and appoinetyng of thesame; veliti are light armed men; thecapitaines that ar appointed to every band of men; twoo orders observed in an armie; how a captain muste instructe muste instructe his souldiours how thei ought to governe themselves in the battaile.] fabricio. a good many of those, whiche have been declared, as runnyng, and wrestlyng, makyng theim to leape, makyng theim to labour in armours, moche heavier then the ordinarie, making them shoote with crosse bowes, and longe bowes, whereunto i would joyne the harkabus, a newe instrument (as you know) verie necessarie, and to these exercises i would use, al the youth of my state, but with greater industrie, and more sollicitatenesse thesame parte, whiche i should have alreadie appoincted to serve, and alwaies in the idell daies, thei should bee exercised. i would also that thei should learne to swimme, the whiche is a thyng verie profitable: for that there be not alwaies bridges over rivers, boates be not alwaies readie: so that thy army not knowyng howe to swime, remaineth deprived of many commodities: and many occasions to woorke well, is taken awaie. the romaines for none other cause had ordained, that the yong men should exercise them selves in campus martius, then onely, for that havyng tiber at hande, thei might, beyng weried with the exercise on lande, refreshe theim selves in the water, and partly in swimmyng, to exercise them selves. i would make also, as the antiquitie, those whiche should serve on horsebacke to exercise, the whiche is moste necessarie, for that besides to know how to ride, thei muste knowe how on horsebacke thei maie prevaile of them selves. and for this thei had ordeined horses of wood, upon the which thei practised, to leape by armed, and unarmed, without any helpe, and on every hande: the whiche made, that atones, and at a beck of a capitain, the horsmen were on foote, and likewise at a token, thei mounted on horsebacke. and soche exercises, bothe on foote and on horsebacke, as thei were then easie to bee doen, so now thei should not be difficult to thesame common weale, or to thesame prince, whiche would cause them to be put in practise of their yong men. as by experience is seen, in certaine citees of the weste countrie, where is kepte a live like maners with this order. thei devide all their inhabiters into divers partes: and every parte thei name of the kinde of those weapons, that thei use in the warre. and for that thei use pikes, halbardes, bowes, and harkebuses, thei call them pike menne, halberders, harkebutters, and archars: therefore, it is mete for all the inhabiters to declare, in what orders thei will be appoincted in. and for that all men, either for age, or for other impedimentes, be not fitte for the warre, every order maketh a choise of men, and thei call them the sworen, whom in idell daies, be bounde to exercise themselves in those weapons, wherof thei be named: and every manne hath his place appoincted hym of the cominaltie, where soche exercise ought to be made: and those whiche be of thesame order, but not of the sworen, are contributaries with their money, to thesame expenses, whiche in soche exercises be necessarie: therfore thesame that thei doe, we maie doe. but our smal prudence dooeth not suffre us, to take any good waie. of these exercises there grewe, that the antiquitie had good souldiours, and that now those of the weste, bee better men then ours: for as moche as the antiquitie exercised them, either at home (as those common weales doe) or in the armies, as those emperours did, for thoccasions aforesaied: but we, at home will not exercise theim, in campe we cannot, bicause thei are not our subjectes, and for that we are not able to binde them to other exercises then thei them selves liste to doe: the whiche occacion hath made, that firste the armies bee neclected, and after, the orders, and that the kyngdomes, and the common weales, in especially italians, live in soche debilitie. but let us tourne to our order, and folowyng this matter of exercises, i saie, how it suffiseth not to make good armies, for havyng hardened the men, made them strong, swift, and handsome, it is nedefull also, that thei learne to stande in the orders, to obeie to signes, to soundes, and to the voice of the capitain: to knowe, standyng, to retire them selves, goyng forwardes, bothe faightyng, and marchyng to maintain those: bicause without this knowlege, withal serious diligence observed, and practised, there was never armie good: and without doubt, the fierce and disordered menne, bee moche more weaker, then the fearfull that are ordered, for that thorder driveth awaie from men feare, the disorder abateth fiercenesse. and to the entente you maie the better perceive that, whiche here folowyng shalbe declared, you have to understande, how every nation, in the orderyng of their men to the warre, have made in their hoste, or in their armie, a principall member, the whiche though thei have varied with the name, thei have little varied with the nomber of the menne: for that thei all have made it, betwene sixe and viii. m. men. this nomber of men was called of the romaines, a legion, of grekes a fallange, of frenchemen caterva: this verie same in our tyme of the suizzers, whom onely of the auncient warfare, kepe some shadowe, is called in their tongue that, whiche in ours signifieththe maine battaile. true it is, that every one of them, hath after devided it, accordyng to their purposes. therefore me thinkes beste, that wee grounde our talke, upon this name moste knowen, and after, according to the aunciente, and to the orders now adaies, the beste that is possible to ordaine it; and bicause the romaines devided their legion, whiche was made betwene five and sixe thousande men, in ten cohortes, i will that wee devide our main battaile, into ten battailes, and that we make it of sixe thousande menne on foote, and we will give to every battaile, ccccl. men, of whiche shall be, cccc. armed with heavie armour, and l. with light armour: the heavie armed, shall be ccc. targettes with sweardes, and shalbe called target men: and c. with pikes, whiche shalbe called ordinarie pikes: the light armed shalbe, l. men armed with harkabuses, crosse bowes, and partisans, and smal targaettes, and these by an aunciente name, were called ordinarie veliti: all of the ten battailes therefore, comes to have three thousande targaet men, a thousande ordinarie pikes, cccc. ordinarie veliti, all whiche make the nomber of fower thousande and five hundred men. and we saied, that we would make the maine battaile of six thousande; therefore there must be added an other thousande, five hundred men, of whiche i will appoinet a thousande with pikes, whom i will call extraordinarie veliti, and thus my menne should come (as a little before i have saied) to bee made halfe of targaetes, and halfe of pikes and other weapons. i would appoinete to everie battaile, or bande of men, a conestable, fower centurions and fouretic peticapitaines, and moreover a hedde to the ordinarie veliti. with five peticapitaines; i would give to the thousande extraordinarie pikes, three conestabelles, ten centurions, and a hundred peticapitaines; to the extraodrinarie veliti, two conestabelles, v. centurions, and l. peticapitaines: i would then apoinet a generall hed, over all the main battaile: i would that every conestable should have an ansigne, and a drum. thus there should be made a manne battaile of ten battailes, of three thousande targaet men, of a thousande ordinarie pikes, of a thousande extraordinarie of five hundred ordinarie veliti, of five hundred extraordinarie, so there should come to bee sixe thousande men, emongeste the whiche there should bee m.d. peticapitaines, and moreover, xv. conestables, with xv. drummes, and xv. ansignes, lv. centurions, x. heddes of the ordinarie veliti, and a capitaine over all the maine battaile with his asigne and drume, and i have of purpose repeated this order the oftener, to the intent, that after when i shall shewe you, the maners of orderyng the battailes, and tharmies, you should not be confounded: i saie therefore, how that, that king, or that common weale, whiche intendeth to ordeine their subjectes to armes, ought to appoincte theim with these armoures and weapons, and with these partes, and to make in their countrie so many maine battailes, as it were able: and when thei should have ordained them, according to the forsaid distribucion, minding to exercise them in the orders, it should suffice to exercise every battaile by it self: and although the nomber of the men, of every one of them, cannot by it self, make the facion of a juste armie, notwithstandyng, every man maie learne to dooe thesame, whiche particularly appertaineth unto hym: for that in the armies, twoo orders is observed, the one, thesame that the men ought to doe in every battaile, and the other that, whiche the battaile ought to doe after, when it is with the other in an armie. and those men, whiche doe wel the first, mooste easely maie observe the seconde: but without knowyng thesame, thei can never come to the knowlege of the seconde. then (as i have saied) every one of these battailes, maie by them selves, learne to kepe the orders of the araies, in every qualitie of movyng, and of place, and after learne to put them selves togethers, to understande the soundes, by meanes wherof in the faight thei are commaunded, to learne to know by that, as the gallics by the whissell, what ought to be doen, either to stande still, or to tourne forward, or to tourne backwarde or whiche waie to tourne the weapons, and the face: so that knowyng how to kepe well the araie, after soche sorte, that neither place nor movyng maie disorder them, understandyng well the commaundementes of their heddes, by meanes of the sounde, and knowyng quickly, how to retourne into their place, these battailes maie after easly (as i have said) beyng brought many together, learne to do that, whiche all the body together, with the other battailes in a juste armie, is bounde to dooe. and bicause soche universall practise, is also not to bee estemed a little, ones or twise a yere, when there is peace, all the main battaile maie be brought together, to give it the facion of an whole armie, some daies exercisyng theim, as though thei should faight a fielde, settyng the fronte, and the sides with their succours in their places. and bicause a capitaine ordeineth his hoste to the fielde, either for coumpte of the enemie he seeth, or for that, of whiche without seyng he doubteth, he ought to exercise his armie in the one maner, and in the other, and to instructe theim in soche sorte, that thei maie knowe how to marche, and to faight, when nede should require, the wyng to his souldiours, how thei should governe theim selves, when thei should happen to be assaulted of this, or of that side: and where he ought to instructe theim how to faight againste the enemie, whom thei should see: he must shewe them also, how the faight is begun, and where thei ought to retire: being overthrowen, who hath to succeade in their places, to what signes, to what soundes, to what voices, thei ought to obeie, and to practise them in soche wise in the battaile, and with fained assaultes, that thei may desire the verie thyng in deede. for that an armie is not made coragious, bicause in thesame be hardie menne, but by reason the orders thereof bee well appoineted: for as moche as if i be one of the first faighters, and do knowe, beyng overcome, where i maie retire, and who hath to succeade in my place, i shall alwaies faight with boldnes, seing my succour at hand. if i shall be one of the seconde faighters, the first being driven backe, and overthrowen, i shall not bee afraied, for that i shall have presuposed that i maie bee, and i shall have desire to be thesame, whiche maie give the victory to my maister, and not to bee any of the other. these exercises bee moste necessarie, where an armie is made of newe, and where the old armie is, thei bee also necessarie: for that it is also seen, how the romaines knew from their infancie, thorder of their armies, notwithstandyng, those capitaines before thei should come to thenemie, continually did exercise them in those. and josephus in his historie saieth, that the continuall exercises of the romaine armies, made that all thesame multitude, whiche folowe the campe for gain, was in the daie of battaile profitable: bicause thei all knewe, how to stande in the orders, and to faight kepyng the same: but in the armies of newe men, whether thou have putte theim together, to faight straight waie, or that thou make a power to faight, when neede requires, without these exercises, as well of the battailes severally by themselves, as of all the armie, is made nothing: wherefore the orders beying necessarie, it is conveniente with double industrie and laboure, to shewe them unto soche as knoweth them not, and for to teache it, many excellent capitaines have travailed, without any respecte. cosimo. my thinkes that this reasoning, hath sumwhat transported you: for asmoche, as havyng not yet declared the waies, with the whiche the battailes bee exercised, you have reasoned of the whole armie, and of the daie of battaile. [sidenote: the chief importance in the exercisyng of bandes of men; three principall for thorderyng of menne into battaile raie; the manner how to bryng a bande of men into battaile raie after a square facion; the better waie for the ordring of a band of men in battaile raie, after the first facion; how to exercise men, and to take soche order, whereby a band of men that were by whatsoever chance disordred maye straighte wai be brought into order againe; what advertisement ought to bee used in tourning about a whole bande of menne, after soche sorte, as though it were but one bodie; how to order a band of menne after soche sort that thei maie make their front againste thenemie of whiche flanke thei list; how a band of man oughte to be ordered, when in marchyng thei should bee constrained to faighton their backes.] fabricio. you saie truth, but surely thoccasion hath been the affection, whiche i beare to these orders, and the grief that i feele, seyng thei be not put in use: notwithstanding, doubt not but that i will tourne to the purpose: as i have saied, the chief importaunce that is in thexercise of the battailes, is to knowe how to kepe well the armies: and bicause i tolde you that one of these battailes, ought to bee made of fower hundred men heavie armed, i wil staie my self upon this nomber. thei ought then to be brought into lxxx. rankes, and five to a ranke: afterward goyng fast, or softly, to knit them together, and to lose them: the whiche how it is dooen, maie bee shewed better with deedes, then with wordes. which nedeth not gretly to be taught, for that every manne, whom is practised in servise of warre, knoweth how this order procedeth, whiche is good for no other, then to use the souldiours to keepe the raie: but let us come to putte together one of these battailes, i saie, that there is given them three facions principally, the firste, and the moste profitablest is, to make al massive, and to give it the facion of two squares, the second is, to make it square with the front horned, the thirde is, to make it with a voide space in the middest: the maner to put men together in the first facion, maie be of twoo sortes, tho together in the first facion, maie be of twoo sortes, thone is to double the rankes, that is, to make the seconde ranke enter into the first, the iiii. into the third, the sixt into the fift, and so foorth, so that where there was lxxx. rankes, five to a ranke, thei maie become xl. rankes, x. to a ranke. afterward cause theim to double ones more in thesame maner, settyng the one ranke into an other, and so there shall remain twentie rankes, twentie men to a ranke: this maketh twoo squares aboute, for as moche as albeit that there bee as many men the one waie, as in the other, notwithstandyng to wardes the hedde, thei joine together, that the one side toucheth the other: but by the other waie, thei be distant the one from the other, at least a yarde and a haulfe, after soche sorte, that the square is moche longer, from the backe to the fronte, then from the one side to thother: and bicause we have at this presente, to speake often of the partes afore, of behinde, and of the sides of these battailes, and of all the armie together, knowe you, that when i saie either hedde or fronte, i meane the parte afore, when i shall saie backe, the part behind, when i shall saie flankes, the partes on the sides. the fiftie ordinarie veliti of the battaile, muste not mingle with the other rankes, but so sone as the battaile is facioned, thei shalbe set a long by the flankes therof. the other waie to set together the battaile is this, and bicause it is better then the firste, i will set it before your ives juste, how it ought to bee ordeined. i beleve that you remember of what nomber of menne, of what heddes it is made, and of what armours thei are armed, then the facion, that this battaile ought to have, is (as i have saied) of twentie rankes, twentie men to a ranke, five rankes of pikes in the front, and fiftene rankes of targaettes on the backe, twoo centurions standying in the fronte, twoo behinde on the backe, who shall execute the office of those, whiche the antiquitie called tergiductori. the conestable with the ansigne, and with the drumme, shall stande in thesame space, that is betwene the five rankes of the pikes, and the fiftene of the targeaettes. of the peticapitaines, there shall stande one upon every side of the ranckes, so that every one, maie have on his side his men, those peticapitaines, whiche shalbe on the left hande, to have their men on the right hand, those peticapitaines, whiche shall be on the right hand, to have their menne on the left hande: the fiftie veliti, muste stande a long the flankes, and on the backe of the battaile. to mynde now, that this battaile maie be set together in this facion, the men goyng ordinarily, it is convenient to order them thus. make the men to be brought into lxxx. rankes, five to a ranke, as a little afore we have said, leavyng the veliti either at the hedde, or at the taile, so that thei stande out of this order: and it ought to be ordeined, that every centurion have behinde his back twentie rankes, and to bee nexte behinde every centurion, five rankes of pikes, and the reste targaettes. the conestable shall stande with the drum, and the ansigne, in thesame space, whiche is betwene the pikes, and the targaettes of the seconde centurion, and to occupie the places of three targaette men. of the peticapitaines, twentie shall stand on the sides of the rankes, of the first centurion, on the lefte hande, and twentie shall stande on the sides of the rankes, of the last centurion on the right hande. and you muste understande, that the peticapitaine, whiche hath to leade the pikes, ought to have a pike, and those that leade the targaettes, ought to have like weapons. then the rankes beyng brought into this order, and mindyng in marchyng, to bryng them into battaile, for to make the hedde, the first centurion must be caused to stande still, with the firste twentie rankes, and the seconde to proceade marchyng, and tournyng on the right hand, he must go a long the sides of the twentie rankes that stande still, till he come to bee even with the other centurion, where he must also stande still, and the thirde centurion to procede marchyng, likewise tournyng on the right hand, and a long the sides of the rankes that stande still, must go so farre, that he be even with the other twoo centurions, and he also standyng still, the other centurion must folowe with his rankes, likewise tournyng on the right hande, a longe the sides of the rankes that stande still, so farre that he come to the hed of the other, and then to stand still, and straight waie twoo centurions onely, shall depart from the front, and go to the backe of the battaile, the whiche cometh to bee made in thesame maner, and with thesame order juste, as a little afore i have shewed you. the veliti muste stande a long, by the flankes of thesame, accordyng as is disposed in the first waie, whiche waie is called redoublyng by right line, this is called redoublyng by flanke: the first waie is more easie, this is with better order, and commeth better to passe, and you maie better correcte it, after your owne maner, for that in redoublyng by righte line, you muste bee ruled by the nomber, bicause five maketh ten, ten twentie, twentie fourtie, so that with redoublyng by right line, you cannot make a hedde of fiftene, nor of five and twentie, nor of thirtie, nor of five and thirtie, but you must go where thesame nomber will leade you. and yet it happeneth every daie in particulare affaires, that it is convenient to make the forwarde with sixe hundred, or eight hundred men, so that to redouble by right line, should disorder you: therefore this liketh me better: that difficultie that is, ought moste with practise, and with exercise to bee made easie. therefore i saie unto you, how it importeth more then any thyng, to have the souldiours to know how to set themselves in araie quickly, and it is necessarie to keepe theim in this battaile, to exercise theim therin, and to make them to go apace, either forward or backward, to passe through difficulte places, without troublyng thorder: for asmoche as the souldiours, whiche can doe this well, be expert souldiours, and although thei have never seen enemies in the face, thei maie be called old souldiours, and contrariwise, those whiche cannot keepe these orders, though thei have been in a thousande warres, thei ought alwaies to be reputed new souldiours. this is, concernyng setting them together, when thei are marching in small rankes: but beyng set, and after beyng broken by some accident or chaunce, whiche groweth either of the situacion, or of the enemie, to make that in a sodaine, thei maie come into order againe, this is the importaunce and the difficultie, and where is nedefull moche exercise, and moche practise, and wherin the antiquitie bestowed moche studie. therefore it is necessarie to doe twoo thynges, firste to have this battaile full of countersignes, the other, to keepe alwaies this order, that those same men maie stand alwaies in the ranke, which thei were firste placed in: as for insample, if one have begon to stande in the seconde, that he stande after alwaie in that, and not onely in that self same rancke, but in that self same place: for the observyng whereof (as i have saied) bee necessarie many countersignes. in especially it is requisite, that the ansigne bee after soche sorte countersigned, that companyng with the other battailes, it maie be knowen from theim, accordyng as the conestable, and the centurions have plumes of fethers in their heddes differente, and easie to be knowen, and that whiche importeth moste, is to ordaine that the peticapitaines bee knowen. whereunto the antiquitie had so moche care, that thei would have nothing els written in their hedde peces, but the nomber that thei were named by, callyng them firste, seconde, thirde, and fourthe xc. and yet thei were not contented with this, but made every souldiour to have written in his targaet, the nomber of the ranke, and the nomber of the place, in whiche ranke he was appoineted. then the menne being countersigned thus, and used to stande betwene these limites, it is an easie thyng, thei beyng disordered, to sett theim all againe quickly into order: considering, that the ansigne standyng still, the centurions, and the peticapitaines maie gesse their places by the iye, and beyng brought the left of the left, the right of the right, with their accustomed distance, the souldiours led by their rule, and by the differences of the cognisances, maie be quickly in their proper places, no otherwise, then as if the boordes of a tunne should bee taken a sunder, whiche beyng first marked, moste easely maie bee set together again, where thesame beyng not countersigned, were impossible to bryng into order any more. these thynges, with diligence and with exercise, are quickely taught, and quickly learned, and beyng learned, with difficultie are forgotten: for that the newe menne, be led of the olde, and with tyme, a province with these exercises, may become throughly practised in the war. it is also necessarie to teache theim, to tourne theim selves all at ones, and when neede requires, to make of the flankes, and of the backe, the fronte, and of the front, flankes, or backe, whiche is moste easie: bicause it suffiseth that every manne doe tourne his bodie, towardes thesame parte that he is commaunded, and where thei tourne their faces, there the fronte commeth to bee. true it is, that when thei tourne to any of the flanckes, the orders tourne out of their proporcion: for that from the breast to the backe, there is little difference, and from the one flancke to the other, there is verie moche distance, the whiche is al contrarie to the ordinarie order of the battaile: therefore it is convenient, that practise, and discrecion, doe place them as thei ought to be: but this is small disorder, for that moste easely by themselves, thei maie remedie it. but that whiche importeth more, and where is requisite more practise, is when a battaile would tourne all at ones, as though it were a whole bodie, here is meete to have greate practise, and greate discrecion: bicause mindyng to tourne, as for insample on the left hande, the left corner must stande still, and those that be next to hym that standeth still, muste marche so softly, that thei that bee in the right corner, nede not to runne: otherwise all thing should be confounded. but bicause it happeneth alwaies, when an armie marcheth from place to place, that the battailes, whiche are not placed in the front, shall be driven to faight not by hedde, but either by flancke, or by backe, so that a battaile muste in a sodaine make of flancke, or of backe, hedde: and mindyng that like battailes in soche cace, maie have their proporcion, as above is declared, it is necessarie, that thei have the pikes on thesame flancke, that ought to be hedde, and the peticapitaines, centurions, and conestables, to resorte accordyngly to their places. therefore to mynde to dooe this, in plasyng them together, you must ordeine the fower skore rankes, of five in a ranke, thus: set all the pikes in the first twentie rankes, and place the peticapitaines thereof, five in the first places, and five in the last: the other three score rankes, whiche come after, bee all of targaettes, whiche come to bee three centuries. therefore, the first and the laste ranke of every centurion, would be peticapitaines, the conestable with the ansigne, and with the drumme, muste stande in the middest of the first centurie of targaettes, and the centurions in the hed of every centurie. the bande thus ordained, when you would have the pikes to come on the left flancke, you must redouble centurie by centurie, on the right flancke: if you would have them to come on the right flancke, you must redouble theim on the lefte. and so this battaile tourneth with the pikes upon a flancke, and the conestable in the middeste: the whiche facion it hath marchyng: but the enemie commyng, and the tyme that it would make of flancke hedde, it nedeth not but to make every man to tourne his face, towardes thesame flancke, where the pikes be, and then the battaile tourneth with the rankes, and with the heddes in thesame maner, as is aforesaied: for that every man is in his place, excepte the centurions, and the centurions straight waie, and without difficultie, place themselves: but when thei in marchyng, should bee driven to faight on the backe, it is convenient to ordein the rankes after soch sorte, that settyng theim in battaile, the pikes maie come behinde, and to doe this, there is to bee kepte no other order, then where in orderyng the battaile, by the ordinarie, every centurie hath five rankes of pikes before, to cause that thei maie have them behind, and in all the other partes to observe thorder, whiche i declared firste. cosimo. you have tolde (if i dooe well remember me) that this maner of exercise, is to bee able to bryng these battailes together into an armie, and that this practise, serveth to be able to order theim selves in the same: but if it should happen, that these ccccl. men, should have to doe an acte seperate, how would you order them? [sidenote: how a battaile is made with twoo hornes; the orderyng of a battaile with a voide space in the middeste.] fabricio. he that leadeth them, ought then to judge, where he will place the pikes, and there to put them, the whiche doeth not repugne in any part to the order above written: for that also, though thesame bee the maner, that is observed to faighte a fielde, together with thother battailes, notwithstandyng it is a rule, whiche serveth to all those waies, wherein a band of menne should happen to have to doe: but in shewyng you the other twoo waies of me propounded, of ordering the battailes, i shal also satisfie you more to your question: for that either thei are never used, or thei are used when a battaile is a lone, and not in companie of other, and to come to the waie of ordering them, with twoo hornes, i saie, that thou oughteste to order the lxxx. rankes, five to a ranke, in this maner. place in the middest, one centurion, and after hym xxv. rankes, whiche muste bee with twoo pikes on the lefte hande, and with three targaettes on the right, and after the first five, there must be put in the twentie folowyng, twentie peticapitaines, all betwene the pikes, and the targaettes, excepte those whiche beare the pike, whom maie stand with the pikes: after these xxv. rankes thus ordered, there is to be placed an other centurion, and behinde hym fiftene rankes of targaettes: after these, the conestable betwene the drum and the ansigne, who also must have after him, other fiftene rankes of targaettes: after this, the thirde centurion must be placed, and behinde hym, xxv. rankes, in every one of whiche, ought to bee three targaettes on the lefte flancke, and twoo pikes on the right, and after the five first rankes, there must be xx. peticapitaines placed betwene the pikes, and the targaettes: after these rankes, the fowerth centurion must folowe. intendying therefore, of these rankes thus ordered, to make a battaile with twoo hornes, the first centurion must stand still, with the xxv. rankes, whiche be behinde him, after the second centurion muste move, with the fiftene rankes of targaettes, that bee behinde hym, and to tourne on the right hande, and up by the right flancke of the xxv. rankes, to go so farre, that he arrive to the xv. ranke, and there to stande still: after, the conestable muste move, with the fiftene rankes of targaettes, whiche be behinde hym, and tournyng likewise on the right hande, up by the right flancke of the fiftene rankes, that wer firste moved, muste marche so farre, that he come to their heddes, and there to stand stil: after, the thirde centurion muste move with the xxv. rankes, and with the fowerth centurion, whiche was behinde, and turnyng up straight, must go a long by the right flanck of the fiftene last rankes of the targaettes, and not to stande still when he is at the heddes of them, but to followe marchyng so farre, that the laste ranke of the xxv. maie come to be even with the rankes behinde. and this dooen, the centurion, whiche was hedde of the firste fiftene rankes of targaettes, must go awaie from thens where he stoode, and go to the backe in the lefte corner: and thus a battaile shall be made of xxv. rankes, after twentie men to a rank, with two hornes, upon every side of the front, one horn, and every one, shall have ten rankes, five to a ranke, and there shall remain a space betwene the twoo hornes, as moche as containeth ten men, whiche tourne their sides, the one to thother. betwene the two hornes, the capitain shall stande, and on every poinct of a horne, a centurion: there shall bee also behinde, on every corner, a centurion: there shal be twoo rankes of pikes, and xx. peticapitaines on every flancke. these twoo hornes, serve to kepe betwene theim the artillerie, when this battaile should have any withit, and the cariages: the veliti muste stande a long the flankes, under the pikes. but mindyng to bring this horned battaile, with a voide space in the middeste, there ought no other to bee doen, then of fiftene rankes, of twentie to a ranke, to take eight rankes, and to place them on the poinctes of the twoo hornes, whiche then of hornes, become backe of the voide space, in this place, the cariages are kept, the capitain standeth, and the ansigne, but never the artillerie, the whiche is placed either in the front, or a long the flankes. these be the waies, that a battaile maie use when it is constrained to passe alone through suspected places: notwithstandyng, the massive battaile without hornes, and without any soche voide place is better, yet purposyng to assure the disarmed, the same horned battaile is necessarie. the suizzers make also many facions of battailes, emong which, thei make one like unto a crosse: bicause in the spaces that is betwen the armes therof, thei kepe safe their harkebuters from the daunger of the enemies: but bicause soche battailes be good to faight by theim selves, and my intente is to shew, how many battailes united, do faight with thenemie, i wil not labour further in describing them. cosimo. my thinkes i have verie well comprehended the waie, that ought to be kept to exercise the men in these battailes: but (if i remember me well) you have saied, how that besides the tenne battailes, you joyne to the maine battaile, a thousande extraordinarie pikes, and five hundred extraordinarie veliti: will you not appoincte these to be exercised? [sidenote: to what purpose the pikes and velite extraordinarie must serve.] fabricio. i would have theim to bee exercised, and that with moste great diligence: and the pikes i would exercise, at leaste ansigne after ansigne, in the orders of the battailes, as the other: for as moche as these should doe me more servise, then the ordinarie battailes, in all particulare affaires: as to make guides, to get booties, and to doe like thynges: but the veliti, i would exercise at home, without bringing them together, for that their office being to faight a sonder, it is not mete, that thei should companie with other, in the common exercises: for that it shall suffice, to exercise them well in the particular exercises. thei ought then (as i firste tolde you, nor now me thynkes no labour to rehearse it againe) to cause their men to exercise them selves in these battailes, whereby thei maie knowe how to kepe the raie, to knowe their places, to tourne quickly, when either enemie, or situacion troubleth them: for that, when thei knowe how to do this, the place is after easely learned, which a battaile hath to kepe, and what is the office thereof in the armie: and when a prince, or a common weale, will take the paine, and will use their diligence in these orders, and in these exercisyng, it shall alwaies happen, that in their countrie, there shall bee good souldiours, and thei to be superiours to their neighbours, and shalbe those, whiche shall give, and not receive the lawes of other men: but (as i have saied) the disorder wherein thei live, maketh that thei neclecte, and doe not esteme these thynges, and therefore our armies be not good: and yet though there were either hed, or member naturally vertuous, thei cannot shewe it. cosimo. what carriages would you, that every one of these battailes should have? [sidenote: neither centurion nor peticapitaine, ought not to ride; what carriages the capitaines ought to have, and the nomber of carrages requisite to every bande of menne.] fabricio. firste, i would that neither centurion, nor peticapitain, should be suffered to ride: and if the conestable would nedes ride, i would that he should have a mule, and not a horse: i would allowe hym twoo carriages, and one to every centurion, and twoo to every three peticapitaines, for that so many wee lodge in a lodgyng, as in the place therof we shall tell you: so that every battaile will come to have xxxvi. carriages, the whiche i would should carrie of necessitie the tentes, the vesselles to seeth meate, axes, barres of iron, sufficient to make the lodgynges, and then if thei can carry any other thyng, thei maie dooe it at their pleasure. cosimo. i beleve that the heddes of you, ordeined in every one of these battailes, be necessarie: albeit, i would doubt, lest that so many commaunders, should confounde all. [sidenote: without many capitaines, an armie cannot be governed; to what purpose ansignes ought to serve; for what purpose drummes oughte to bee used; the propertie that soundes of instrumentes have in mens myndes.] fabricio. that should bee, when it were not referred to one man, but referryng it, thei cause order, ye and without theim, it is impossible to governe an armie: for that a wall, whiche on every parte enclineth, requireth rather to have many proppes, and thicke, although not so strong, then fewe, though thei were strong: bicause the vertue of one a lone, doeth not remedie the ruine a farre of. and therefore in tharmies, and emong every ten men, it is convenient that there bee one, of more life, of more harte, or at leaste wise of more aucthoritie, who with stomacke, with wordes, and with example, maie kepe them constante, and disposed to faight, and these thynges of me declared, bee necessarie in an armie, as the heddes, the ansignes, and the drummes, is seen that wee have theim all in our armies, but none doeth his office. first to mynde that the peticapitaines doe thesame, for whiche thei are ordeined, it is necessarie (as i have said) that there bee a difference, betwene every one of them and their men, and that thei lodge together, doyng their duties, standyng in thorder with them: for that thei placed in their places, bee a rule and a temperaunce, to maintaine the raies straight and steddie, and it is impossible that thei disorder, or disorderyng, dooe not reduce themselves quickly into their places. but we now adaies, doe not use them to other purpose, then to give theim more wages, then to other menne, and to cause that thei dooe some particulare feate: the very same happeneth of the ansigne bearers, for that thei are kept rather to make a faire muster, then for any other warlike use: but the antiquitie used theim for guides, and to bryng theim selves againe into order: for that every man, so sone as the ansigne stoode still, knewe the place, that he kept nere to his ansigne, wherunto he retourned alwaies: thei knewe also, how that the same movyng, or standyng, thei should staie, or move: therfore it is necessarie in an armie, that there be many bodies, and every bande of menne to have his ansigne, and his guide: wherfore havyng this, it is mete that thei have stomackes inough, and by consequence life enough. then the menne ought to marche, accordyng to the ansigne: and the ansigne to move, accordyng to the drumme, the whiche drumme well ordered, commaundeth to the armie, the whiche goyng with paces, that answereth the tyme of thesame, will come to kepe easilie thorders: for whiche cause the antiquitie had shalmes, flutes, and soundes perfectly tymed: for as moche as like as he that daunseth, proceadeth with the tyme of the musick, and goyng with thesame doeth not erre, even so an armie obeiyng, in movyng it self to thesame sounde, doeth not disorder: and therefore, thei varied the sounde, accordyng as thei would varie the mocion, and accordyng as thei would inflame, or quiete, or staie the mindes of men: and like as the soundes were divers, so diversly thei named them: the sounde dorico, ingendered constancie, the sounde frigio, furie: whereby thei saie, that alexander beyng at the table, and one soundyng the sounde frigio, it kendled so moche his minde, that he laied hande on his weapons. all these maners should be necessarie to finde again: and when this should bee difficulte, at least there would not be left behind those that teache the souldiour to obeie, the whiche every man maie varie, and ordeine after his owne facion, so that with practise, he accustome the eares of his souldiours to knowe it: but now adaies of this sounde, there is no other fruicte taken for the moste part, then to make a rumour. cosimo. i would desire to understande of you, if ever with your self you have discourced, whereof groweth so moche vilenesse, and so moche disorder, and so moche necligence in these daies of this exercise? [sidenote: a notable discourse of the aucthour, declaryng whereof groweth so moche vilenes disorder and necligence in these daies, concernyng the exercises of warre.] fabricio. with a good will i will tell you thesame, that i thinke. you knowe how that of the excellente men of warre, there hath been named many in europe, fewe in affric, and lesse in asia: this grewe, for that these twoo laste partes of the worlde, have had not paste one kyngdome, or twoo, and fewe common weales, but europe onely, hath had many kyngdomes, and infinite common weales, where menne became excellent, and did shewe their vertue, accordyng as thei were sette a woorke, and brought before their prince, or common weale, or king that he be: it followeth therefore, that where be many dominions, there rise many valiaunt menne, and where be fewe, fewe. in asia is founde ninus, cirus, artasercses, mithridates: and verie fewe other, that to these maie be compared. in africk, is named (lettyng stande thesame auncient egipt) massinissa, jugurta, and those capitaines, whiche of the carthaginens common weale were nourished, whom also in respecte to those of europe, are moste fewe: bicause in europe, be excellente men without nomber, and so many more should be, if together with those should bee named the other, that be through the malignitie of time extincte: for that the worlde hath been moste vertuous, where hath been moste states, whiche have favoured vertue of necessitie, or for other humaine passion. there rose therfore in asia, fewe excellente menne: bicause thesame province, was all under one kyngdome, in the whiche for the greatnesse thereof, thesame standing for the moste parte of tyme idell, there could not growe men in doynges excellent. to africke there happened the verie same, yet there were nourished more then in asia, by reason of the carthaginens common weale: for that in common weales, there growe more excellent men, then in kingdomes, bicause in common weales for the most part, vertue is honoured, in kyngdomes it is helde backe: wherby groweth, that in thone, vertuous men are nourished, in the other thei are extincte. therefore he that shall consider the partes of europe, shall finde it to have been full of common weales, and of princedomes, the whiche for feare, that the one had of the other, thei wer constrained to kepe lively the warlike orders, and to honor them, whiche in those moste prevailed: for that in grece, besides the kyngdome of the macedonians, there were many common weales, and in every one of theim, were bred moste excellente men. in italie, were the romaines, the sannites, the toscanes, the gallie cisalpini. fraunce, and almainie, wer ful of common weales and princedomes. spaine likewise: and although in comparison of the romaines, there are named fewe other, it groweth through the malignitie of the writers, whom folowe fortune, and to theim for the moste parte it suffised, to honour the conquerours: but it standeth not with reason, that betwene the sannites, and the toscanes, whom fought cl. yeres with the romaine people, before thei wer overcome, there should not growe exceadyng many excellente menne. and so likewise in fraunce, and in spaine: but that vertue, whiche the writers did not celebrate in particuler menne, thei celebrated generally in the people, where thei exalte to the starres, the obstinatenesse that was in them, to defende their libertie. beyng then true, that where bee moste dominions, there riseth moste valiaunt menne, it foloweth of necessitie, that extinguishyng those, vertue is extincte straighte waie, the occasion decaiyng, whiche maketh menne vertuous. therefore, the romaine empire beyng after increased, and havyng extinguished all the common weales, and princedomes of europe, and of afrike, and for the moste part those of asia, it lefte not any waie to vertue, excepte rome: whereby grewe, that vertuous menne began to be as fewe in europe, as in asia: the whiche vertue, came after to the laste caste: for as moche, as all the vertue beyng reduced to roome, so sone as thesame was corrupted, almoste all the worlde came to bee corrupted: and the scithian people, were able to come to spoile thesame empire, the whiche had extinguished the vertue of other, and knewe not howe to maintaine their owne: and after, although through the inundacion of those barberous nacions, thesame empire was devided into many partes, this vertue is not renued: [sidenote: the causes why the aunciente orders are neclected.] the one cause is, for that it greveth theim moche, to take againe the orders when thei are marde, the other, bicause the maner of livyng now adaies, having respect to the christian religion, commaundeth not thesame necessitie to menne, to defende themselves, whiche in olde tyme was: for that then, the menne overcome in warre, either were killed, or remained perpetuall slaves, where thei led their lives moste miserably: the tounes overcome, either were rased, or the inhabiters thereof driven out, their goodes taken awaie, sent dispersed through the worlde: so that the vanquished in warre, suffered all extreme miserie: of this feare, men beyng made afraied, thei wer driven to kepe lively the warlike exercises, and thei honoured soche as were excellente in theim: but nowe adaies, this feare for the moste part is not regarded: of those that are overcom, fewe bee killed, none is kepte longe in prison: for that with facelitie, thei are sette at libertie: the citees also, whiche a thousande tymes have rebelled, are not destroied, the men wherof, are let a lone with their goodes, so that the greateste hurte that is feared, is but a taske: in so moche, that men will not submit them selves to the orders of warre, and to abide alwaies under those, to avoide the perilles whereof thei are little afraied: again these provinces of europe, be under a verie fewe heddes, in respecte as it hath been in times past: for that al fraunce, obeieth one kyng, al spain, an other: italie is in fewe partes, so that the weake citees, are defended with leanyng to hym that overcometh, and the strong states, for the causes aforesaied, feare no soche extreme ruine. cosimo. yet ther hath ben seen many tounes that have ben sacked within this xxv. yeres, and lost their dominions, whose insample, ought to teache other how to live, and to take again some of those old orders. fabricio. you saie true: but if you note what tounes have gone to sacke, you shall not finde that thei have been the heddes of states, but of the members; as was seen sacked tortona, and not milaine: capua, and not napelles, brescia, and not venice, ravenna, and not roome: the whiche insamples maketh those that governe, not to chaunge their purposes, but rather maketh them to stande more in their opinion, to be able to redeme again all thynges with taskes, and for this, thei will not submit theim selves to the troubles of thexercises of warre, semyng unto them partly not necessarie, partly, an intrinsicate matter, whiche thei understande not: those other, whiche bee subjectes to them, whom soche insamples ought to make afraied, have no power to remedie it: and those princes, that have ones loste their estates, are no more able, and those which as yet kept them, know not, nor wil not. bicause thei will without any disease rain by fortune, and not by their vertue: for that in the worlde beyng but little vertue, thei see fortune governeth all thynges. and thei will have it to rule theim, not thei to rule it. and to prove this that i have discoursed to bee true, consider almaine, in the whiche, bicause there is many princedomes, and common weales, there is moche vertue, and all thesame, whiche in the present service of warre is good, dependeth of the insamples of those people: who beyng all gellious of their states, fearing servitude, the which in other places is not feared, thei all maintaine theim selves lordes, and honourable: this that i have saied, shall suffice to shewe the occacions of the presente utilitie, accordyng to my opinion: i cannot tell, whether it seeme thesame unto you, or whether there be growen in you any doubtyng. cosimo. none, but rather i understande all verie well: onely i desire, tournyng to our principall matter, to understande of you, how you would ordein the horses with these battailes, and how many, and how thei should be governed, and how armed. [sidenote: the armyng of horsemen; the weapons that light horsmenne should have; the nombre of horsmen requisite for a maine bataille of six thousand men; the nombre of carrages that men of armes and light horsmen ought to have.] fabricio. you thinke peraventure, that i have left it behinde: whereat doe not marvell, for that i purpose for twoo causes, to speake therof little, the one is, for that the strengthe, and the importaunce of an armie, is the footemen, the other is, bicause this part of service of warre, is lesse corrupted, then thesame of footemen. for that though it be not stronger then the old, yet it maie compare with thesame, nevertheles ther hath been spoken a little afore, of the maner of exercisyng them. and concernyng tharmyng them, i would arme them as thei doe at this present, as wel the light horsemen, as the menne of armes: but the light horsemen, i would that thei should be all crossebowe shuters, with some harkebutters emong them: the whiche though in the other affaires of warre, thei bee little profitable, thei be for this most profitable, to make afraied the countrie menne, and to drive them from a passage, that were kept of them: bicause a harkebutter, shall feare them more, then twentie other armed. but commyng to the nomber, i saie, that having taken in hand, to imitate the service of warre of the romaines, i would not ordein more then three hundred horse, profitable for every maine battaile, of whiche i would that there were cl. men of armes, and cl. light horsmen, and i would give to every one of these partes, a hedde, making after emong them fiftene peticapitaines for a bande, givyng to every one of them a trompet, and a standarde: i would that every ten menne of armes, should have five carriages, and every ten light horsemen twoo, the whiche as those of the footemen, should carrie the tentes, the vesselles, and the axes, and the stakes, and the rest of their other harneis. nor beleve not but that it is disorder, where the menne of armes have to their service fower horse, bicause soche a thyng is a corrupt use: for that the men of armes in almaine, are seen to bee with their horse alone, every twentie of theim, havyng onely a carte, that carrieth after them their necessary thynges. the romaine horsemen, were likewise a lone: true it is, that the triary lodged nere them, whiche wer bound to minister helpe unto theim, in the kepyng of their horses the whiche maie easely be imitated of us, as in the distributyng of the lodgynges, i shall shewe you. thesame then that the romaines did, and that whiche the duchmen doe now a daies, we maie doe also, ye, not doyng it, we erre. these horses ordained and appoincted together with a main battaile, maie sometymes be put together, when the battailes bee assembled, and to cause that betwene theim bee made some sight of assault, the whiche should be more to make them acquainted together, then for any other necessitie. but now of this part, there hath been spoke sufficiently, wherefore let us facion the armie, to be able to come into the field against the enemie, and hope to winne it: whiche thyng is the ende, for whiche the exercise of warre is ordeined, and so moche studie therein bestowed. the thirde booke cosimo. seeing that we chaunge reasonyng, i will that the demaunder be chaunged: bicause i would not be thought presumptuous, the which i have alwaies blamed in other: therfore, i resigne the dictatorship, and give this aucthoritie to hym that will have it, of these my other frendes. zanobi. we would be moste glad, that you should procede, but seyng that you will not, yet tell at leaste, whiche of us shall succede in your place. cosimo. i will give this charge to signor fabricio. fabricio. i am content to take it, and i will that we folowe the venecian custome, that is, that the youngeste speake firste: bicause this beyng an exercise for yong men, i perswade my self, that yong menne, bee moste apt to reason thereof, as thei be moste readie to execute it. cosimo. then it falleth to you luigi: and as i have pleasure of soche a successour, so you shal satisfie your self of soche a demaunder: therefore i praie you, let us tourne to the matter, and let us lese no more tyme. [sidenote: the greateste disorder that is used now a daies in pitching of a fielde; the order how a romain legion was appoincted to faight; the maner that the grekes used in their falangi, when thei fought against their enemies; the order that the suizzers use in their main battailes when thei faight; howe to appoincte a main battaile with armour and weapons, and to order thesame after the greke and romain maner.] fabricio. i am certain, that to mynde to shewe wel, how an armie is prepared, to faight a fielde, it should be necessarie to declare, how the grekes, and the romaines ordeined the bandes of their armies: notwithstandyng, you your selves, beeyng able to rede, and to consider these tnynges, by meanes of the auncient writers. i will passe over many particulars: and i will onely bryng in those thynges, whiche i thinke necessarie to imitate, mindyng at this tyme, to give to our exercise of warre, some parte of perfection: the whiche shall make, that in one instant, i shall shewe you, how an armie is prepared to the field, and how it doeth incounter in the verie faight, and how it maie be exercised in the fained. the greatest disorder, that thei make, whiche ordeine an armie to the fielde, is in giving them onely one fronte, and to binde them to one brunt, and to one fortune: the whiche groweth, of havyng loste the waie, that the antiquitie used to receive one bande within an other: bicause without this waie, thei can neither succour the formoste, nor defende them, nor succede in the faight in their steede: the whiche of the romaines, was moste excellently well observed. therefore, purposyng to shewe this waie, i saie, how that the romaines devided into iii. partes every legion, in hastati, prencipi, and triarii, of which, the hastati wer placed in the first front, or forward of the armie, with thorders thicke and sure, behinde whom wer the prencipi, but placed with their orders more thinne: after these, thei set the triarii, and with so moche thinnes of orders, that thei might, if nede wer, receive betwene them the prencipi, and the hastati. thei had besides these, the slingers, and crosbowshoters, and the other lighte armed, the whiche stoode not in these orders, but thei placed them in the bed of tharmie, betwene the horses and the other bandes of footemen: therefore these light armed, began the faight, if thei overcame (whiche happened seldom times) thei folowed the victorie: if thei were repulced, thei retired by the flanckes of the armie, or by the spaces ordained for soche purposes, and thei brought them selves emong the unarmed: after the departure of whom, the hastati incountered with the enemie, the whiche if thei saw themselves to be overcome, thei retired by a little and little, by the rarenesse of thorders betwene the prencipi, and together with those, thei renued the faight if these also wer repulced, thei retired al in the rarenesse of the orders of the triarii, and al together on a heape, began againe the faight: and then, if thei were overcome, there was no more remeady, bicause there remained no more waies to renue them again. the horses stoode on the corners of the armie, to the likenes of twoo winges to a bodie, and somewhiles thei fought with the enemies horses, an other while, thei rescued the fotmen, according as nede required. this waie of renuyng theim selves three tymes, is almoste impossible to overcome: for that, fortune muste three tymes forsake thee, and the enemie to have so moche strengthe, that three tymes he maie overcome thee. the grekes, had not in their falangi, this maner of renuyng them selves, and although in those wer many heddes, and many orders, notwithstandyng, thei made one bodie, or els one hedde: the maner that thei kepte in rescuyng the one the other was, not to retire the one order within the other, as the romaines, but to enter the one manne into the place of the other: the which thei did in this maner. their falange brought into rankes, and admit, that thei put in a ranke fiftie menne, commyng after with their hedde againste the enemie, of all the rankes the foremoste sixe, mighte faight: bicause their launces, the whiche thei called sarisse, were so long, that the sixt ranke, passed with the hedde of their launces, out of the first ranke: then in faightyng, if any of the first, either through death, or through woundes fell, straight waie there entered into his place, thesame man, that was behinde in the second ranke, and in the place that remained voide of the seconde, thesame man entred, whiche was behind hym in the thirde, and thus successively, in a sodaine the rankes behinde, restored the faultes of those afore, so that the rankes alwaies remained whole, and no place of the faighters was voide, except the laste rankes, the whiche came to consume, havyng not menne behinde their backes, whom might restore theim: so that the hurte that the first rankes suffered, consumed the laste, and the firste remained alwaies whole: and thus these falangi by their order, might soner be consumed, then broken, for that the grosse bodie, made it more immovable. the romaines used at the beginnyng the falangi, and did set in order their legions like unto them: after, this order pleased them not, and thei devided the legions into many bodies, that is, in bandes and companies: bicause thei judged (as a little afore i saied) that thesame bodie, should have neede of many capitaines, and that it should be made of sunderie partes, so that every one by it self, might be governed. the maine battailes of the suizzers, use at this present, all the maners of the falangi, as well in ordryng it grosse, and whole, as in rescuyng the one the other: and in pitchyng the field, thei set the main battailes, thone to the sides of the other: and though thei set them the one behinde the other, thei have no waie, that the firste retiryng it self, maie bee received of the seconde, but thei use this order, to the entent to bee able to succour the one thother, where thei put a maine battaile before, and an other behinde thesame on the right hande: so that if the first have nede of helpe, that then the other maie make forewarde, and succour it: the third main battaile, thei put behind these, but distant from them, a harkebus shot: this thei doe, for that thesaid two main battailes being repulced, this maie make forwarde, and have space for theim selves, and for the repulced, and thesame that marcheth forward, to avoide the justling of the one the other: for asmoche as a grosse multitude, cannot bee received as a little bodie: and therefore, the little bodies beyng destincte, whiche were in a romaine legion, might be placed in soche wise, that thei might receive betwene theim, and rescue the one the other. and to prove this order of the suizzers not to be so good, as the auncient romaines, many insamples of the romain legions doe declare, when thei fought with the grekes falangi, where alwaies thei were consumed of theim: for that the kinde of their weapons (as i have said afore) and this waie of renuyng themselves, could do more, then the massivenesse of the falangi. havyng therefore, with these insamples to ordaine an armie, i have thought good, partly to retaine the maner of armyng and the orders of the grekes falangi, and partely of the romain legions: and therfore i have saied, that i would have in a main battaile, twoo thousande pikes, whiche be the weapons of the macedonicall falangi, and three thousande targaettes with sweardes, whiche be the romain weapons: i have devided the main battaile, into x. battailes, as the romaines their legion into ten cohortes: i have ordeined the veliti, that is the light armed, to begin the faight, as the romaines used: and like as the weapons beyng mingled, doe participate of thone and of the other nacion, so the orders also doe participate: i have ordained, that every battaile shall have v. rankes of pikes in the fronte, and the rest of targaettes, to bee able with the front, to withstande the horses, and to enter easely into the battaile of the enemies on foot, having in the firste fronte, or vawarde, pikes, as well as the enemie, the whiche shall suffice me to withstande them, the targaettes after to overcome theim. and if you note the vertue of this order, you shal se al these weapons, to doe fully their office, for that the pikes, bee profitable against the horses, and when thei come against the footemenne, thei dooe their office well, before the faight throng together, bicause so sone as thei presse together, thei become unprofitable: wherefore, the suizzers to avoide this inconvenience, put after everye three rankes of pikes, a ranke of halberdes, the whiche they do to make roome to the pikes, which is not yet so much as suffiseth. then putting our pikes afore, and the targaettes behinde, they come to withstande the horses, and in the beginning of the fight, they open the rayes, and molest the footemen: but when the fight is thrust together, and that they become unprofitable, the targaettes and swoords succeede, which may in every narowe place be handled. luigi. wee looke nowe with desire to understande, howe you would ordeyne the armie to fighte the fielde, with these weapons, and with these order. [sidenote: the nomber of men that was in a counsulles armie; how the romaines placed their legions in the field; how to order an armie in the fielde to fighte a battaile, according to the minde of the authour; how the extraordinary pikes bee placed in the set battaile; the place where thextraordinarie archars and harkebutters, and the men of armes and lighte horsmen ought to stande when the field is pitched, and goeth to faighte the battaile; the ordinarie archars and harkebutters are placed aboute their owne battailes; the place where the generall hedde of a maine battaile muste stande, when thesame power of men is appoincted to faight; what menne a general capitain of a maine battaile oughte to have aboute hym; the place wher a general capitain of all thearmie must stand when the battaile is ready to be fought and what nomber of chosen men oughte to be aboute hym; how many canons is requisite for an armie, and of what sise they ought to bee; where the artillerie ought to be placed when thearmie is reedie to fight; an armie that were ordered as above is declared, maie in fighting, use the grekes maner, and the roman fashion; to what purpose the spaces that be betwene every bande of men do serve.] fabricio. and i will not nowe shewe you other, then this: you have to understande, how that in an ordinarye romane armie, which they call a consull armie, there were no more, then twoo legions of romane citezens which were sixe hundred horse, and about aleven thousande footemen: they had besides as many more footemen and horsemen, whiche were sente them from their friends and confiderates, whome they divided into twoo partes, and called the one, the right horne and the other the left horne: nor they never permitted, that these aiding footemen, should passe the nomber of the footemen of their legions, they were well contented, that the nomber of those horse shoulde be more then theirs: with this armie, which was of xxii. thousand footemen, and about twoo thousande good horse, a consul executed all affaires, and went to all enterprises: yet when it was needefull to set against a greater force, twoo consulles joyned together with twoo armies. you ought also to note in especially, that in all the three principall actes, which an armie doth that is, to march, to incampe, and to fight, the romanes used to put their legions in the middeste, for that they woulde, that the same power, wherein they most trusted, shoulde bee moste united, as in the reasoning of these three actes, shall be shewed you: those aiding footemen, through the practise they had with the legion souldiours, were as profitable as they, because they were instructed, according as the souldiours of the legions were, and therefore, in like maner in pitching the field, they pitched. then he that knoweth how the romaines disposed a legion in their armie, to fight a field, knoweth how they disposed all: therefor, having tolde you how they devided a legion into three bandes, and how the one bande received the other, i have then told you, how al tharmie in a fielde, was ordained. wherefore, i minding to ordain a field like unto the romaines, as they had twoo legions, i will take ii. main batailes, and these being disposed, the disposicion of all an armie shalbe understode therby: bycause in joyning more men, there is no other to be doen, then to ingrosse the orders: i thinke i neede not to rehearse how many men a maine battaile hath, and howe it hath ten battailes, and what heades bee in a battaile and what weapons they have, and which be the ordinarie pikes and veliti, and which the extraordinarie for that a litle a fore i told you it destinctly, and i willed you to kepe it in memorie as a necessarie thing to purpose, to understande all the other orders: and therfore i will come to the demonstracion of the order without repeating it any more: me thinkes good, that the ten battailes of one main battaile be set on the left flanke, and the tenne other, of the other main battaile, on the right: these that are placed on the left flanke, be ordeined in this maner, there is put five battailes the one to the side of the other in the fronte, after suche sorte, that betweene the one and the other, there remaine a space of three yardes, whiche come to occupie for largenesse cvi. yardes, of ground, and for length thirtie: behinde these five battailes, i would put three other distante by right line from the firste thirtie yardes: twoo of the whiche, should come behinde by right line, to the uttermoste of the five, and the other should kepe the space in the middeste, and so these three, shall come to occupie for bredth and length, as moche space, as the five doeth. but where the five have betwene the one, and the other, a distaunce of three yardes, these shall have a distance of xxv. yardes. after these, i would place the twoo last battailes, in like maner behinde the three by right line, and distaunte from those three, thirtie yardes, and i would place eche of theim, behinde the uttermoste part of the three, so that the space, whiche should remain betwen the one and the other, should be lxviii. yardes: then al these battailes thus ordered, will take in bredth cvi. yardes, and in length cl. thextraordinarie pikes, i would deffende a long the flanckes of these battailes, on the left side, distante from them fiftene yardes, makyng cxliij. rankes, seven to a ranke, after soche sorte, that thei maie impale with their length, all the left sixe of the tenne battailes in thesame wise, declared of me to be ordained: and there shall remain fourtie rankes to keepe the carriages, and the unarmed, whiche ought to remaine in the taile of the armie, distributyng the peticapitaines, and the centurions, in their places: and of the three conestables, i would place one in the hedde, the other in the middeste, the third in the laste ranke, the whiche should execute the office of a tergiductore, whom the antiquitie so called hym, that was appoincted to the backe of the armie. but retournyng to the hedde of the armie, i saie how that i would place nere to the extraordinarie pikes, the veliti extraordinarie, whiche you knowe to be five hundred, and i would give them a space of xxx. yardes: on the side of these likewise on the left hande, i would place the menne of armes, and i would thei should have a space of a cxii. yardes: after these, the light horsemen, to whom i would appoinct as moche ground to stande in, as the menne of armes have: the ordinarie veliti, i would leave about their owne battailes, who should stand in those spaces, whiche i appoincte betwene thone battaile and thother: whom should be as their ministers, if sometyme i thought not good to place them under the extraordinarie pikes: in dooyng or not doyng whereof, i would proceade, accordyng as should tourne best to my purpose. the generall hedde of all the maine battaile, i would place in thesame space, that were betwene the first and the seconde order of the battailes, or els in the hedde, and in thesame space, that is betwene the laste battaile of the firste five, and the extraordinarie pikes, accordyng as beste should serve my purpose, with thirtie or fourtie chosen men about hym, that knewe by prudence, how to execute a commission, and by force, to withstande a violence, and thei to be also betwen the drumme and the ansigne: this is thorder, with the whiche i would dispose a maine battaile, whiche should bee the disposyng of halfe the armie, and it should take in breadth three hundred fourscore and twoo yardes, and in length as moche as above is saied, not accomptyng the space, that thesame parte of the extraordinarie pikes will take, whiche muste make a defence for the unarmed, whiche will bee aboute lxxv. yardes: the other maine battaile, i would dispose on the righte side, after the same maner juste, as i have disposed that on the lefte, leavyng betwene the one main battaile, and thother, a space of xxii. yardes: in the hedde of whiche space, i would set some little carriages of artillerie, behynde the whiche, should stande the generall capitaine of all the armie, and should have about hym with the trumpet, and with the capitaine standerde, twoo hundred menne at least, chosen to be on foote the moste parte, emongest whiche there should be tenne or more, mete to execute all commaundementes, and should bee in soche wise a horsebacke, and armed, that thei mighte bee on horsebacke, and on foote, accordyng as neede should require. the artillerie of the armie, suffiseth ten cannons, for the winning of townes, whose shotte shoulde not passe fiftie pounde: the whiche in the fielde should serve mee more for defence of the campe, then for to fight the battaile: the other artillerie, should bee rather of ten, then of fifteene pounde the shotte: this i would place afore on the front of all the armie, if sometime the countrie should not stande in such wise, that i mighte place it by the flancke in a sure place, where it mighte not of the enemie be in daunger: this fashion of an armie thus ordered, may in fighting, use the order of the falangi, and the order of the romane legions: for that in the fronte, bee pikes, all the men bee set in the rankes, after such sorte, that incountering with the enemie, and withstanding him, maye after the use of the falangi, restore the firste ranckes, with those behinde: on the other parte, if they be charged so sore, that they be constrayned to breake the orders, and to retire themselves, they maye enter into the voide places of the seconde battailes, which they have behinde them, and unite their selves with them, and making a new force, withstande the enemie, and overcome him: and when this sufficeth not, they may in the verie same maner, retire them selves the seconde time, and the third fight: so that in this order, concerning to fight, there is to renue them selves, both according to the greeke maner, and according to the romane: concerning the strength of the armie, there cannot be ordayned a more stronger: for as much, as the one and the other borne therof, is exceedingly well replenished, both with heades, and weapons, nor there remayneth weake, other then the part behinde of the unarmed, and the same also, hath the flanckes impaled with the extraordinarie pikes: nor the enemie can not of anye parte assaulte it, where he shall not finde it well appointed, and the hinder parte can not be assaulted: because there can not bee an enemie, that hath so much puissaunce, whome equallye maye assault thee on everye side: for that hee having so great a power, thou oughtest not then to matche thy selfe in the fielde with him: but when he were three times more then thou, and as well appointed as thou, hee doth weaken him selfe in assaulting thee in divers places, one part that thou breakest, will cause all the reste go to naughte: concerning horses, although he chaunce to have more then thine, thou needest not feare: for that the orders of the pikes, which impale thee, defende thee from all violence of them, although thy horses were repulced. the heades besides this, be disposed in such place, that they may easyly commaunde, and obeye: the spaces that bee between the one battaile, and the other, and betweene the one order, and the other, not onely serve to be able to receyve the one the other, but also to give place to the messengers, whiche should go and come by order of the capitayne. and as i tolde you firste, howe the romanes had for an armie, aboute foure and twentie thousande men, even so this oughte to bee: and as the other souldiours tooke ensample of the legions, for the maner of fighting, and the fashion of the armie, so those souldiours, whiche you shoulde joyne to oure twoo mayne battailes, oughte to take the forme and order of them: whereof having put you an ensample, it is an easye matter to imitate it, for that increasing, either twoo other mayne battailes unto the armie, or as many other souldiours, as they bee, there is no other to bee done, then to double the orders, and where was put tenne battailes on the lefte parte, to put twentie, either ingrossing, or distending the orders, according as the place, or the enemie shoulde compell thee. luigi. surelye sir i imagine in suche wise of this armie, that mee thinkes i nowe see it, and i burne with a desire to see it incounter, and i woulde for nothing in the worlde, that you shoulde become fabius maximus intendyng to kepe the enemie at a baie, and to deferre the daie of battaile: bicause i would saie worse of you, then the romain people saied of hym. [sidenote: the descripcion of a battaile that is a faightyng.] fabricio. doubt not: doe you not heare the artillerie? ours have alredie shotte, but little hurte the enemie: and thextraordinarie veliti, issuyng out of their places together with the light horsemen, moste speadely, and with moste merveilous furie, and greateste crie that maie be, thei assaulte the enemie: whose artillerie hath discharged ones, and hath passed over the heddes of our footemen, without doyng them any hurt, and bicause it cannot shoote the seconde tyme, the veliti, and our horsemen, have nowe gotten it, and the enemies for to defende it, are come fore warde, so that neither our ordinaunce, nor thenemies, can any more doe their office. se with how moche vertue, strengthe and agilitie our men faighteth, and with how moche knowledge through the exercise, whiche hath made them to abide, and by the confidence, that thei have in the armie, the whiche, see, how with the pace therof, and with the men of armes on the sides, it marcheth in good order, to give the charge on the adversarie: see our artillerie, whiche to give theim place, and to leave them the space free, is retired by thesame space, from whens the veliti issued: see how the capitaine incourageth them, sheweth them the victorie certain: see how the veliti and light horsemen bee inlarged, and retourned on the flanckes of tharmie, to seke and view, if thei maie by the flanck, doe any injurie to the adversaries: behold how the armies be affronted. se with how moche valiauntnesse thei have withstode the violence of thenemies, and with how moche silence, and how the capitain commaundeth the menne of armes, that thei sustain, and not charge, and that thei breake not from the order of the footemen: see how our light horsemen be gone, to give the charge on a band of the enemies harkebutters, whiche would have hurt our men by flancke, and how the enemies horse have succoured them, so that tourned betwene the one and the other horse, thei cannot shoote, but are faine to retire behinde their owne battaile: see with what furie our pikes doe also affront, and how the footemen be now so nere together the one to the other, that the pikes can no more be occupied: so that according to the knowlege learned of us, our pikes do retire a little and a little betwen the targaettes. se how in this while a great bande of men of armes of the enemies, have charged our men of armes on the lefte side, and how ours, accordyng to knowlege, bee retired under the extraordinarie pikes, and with the help of those, giving again a freshe charge, have repulced the adversaries, and slain a good part of them: in so moche, that thordinarie pikes of the first battailes, be hidden betwene the raies of the targaettes, thei havyng lefte the faight to the targaet men: whom you maie see, with how moche vertue, securitie, and leasure, thei kill the enemie: see you not how moche by faightyng, the orders be thrust together? that thei can scarse welde their sweardes? behold with how moche furie the enemies move: bicause beyng armed with the pike, and with the swerd unprofitable (the one for beyng to long, the other for findyng thenemie to well armed) in part thei fall hurt or dedde, in parte thei flie. see, thei flie on the righte corner, thei flie also on the lefte: behold, the victorie is ours. have not we wonne a field moste happely? but with more happinesse it should bee wonne, if it were graunted me to put it in acte. and see, how there neded not the helpe of the seconde, nor of the third order, for our first fronte hath sufficed to overcome theim: in this part, i have no other to saie unto you, then to resolve if any doubt be growen you. [sidenote: questions concerning the shotyng of ordinaunce.] luigi. you have with so moche furie wonne this fielde that i so moche mervaile and am so astonied, that i beleve that i am not able to expresse, if any doubt remain in my mynde: yet trustyng in your prudence, i will be so bolde to tell thesame that i understande. tell me firste, why made you not your ordinaunce to shoote more then ones? and why straighte waie you made them to retire into tharmie, nor after made no mension of them? me thought also, that you leveled the artillerie of the enemie high, and appoincted it after your own devise: the whiche might very well bee, yet when it should happen, as i beleve it chaunseth often, that thei strike the rankes, what reamedie have you? and seyng that i have begun of the artillerie, i will finishe all this question, to the intente i nede not to reason therof any more. i have heard many dispraise the armours, and the orders of the aunciente armies, arguyng, how now a daies, thei can doe little, but rather should bee altogether unprofitable, havyng respecte to the furie of the artillerie: bicause, this breaketh the orders, and passeth the armours in soche wise, that it semeth unto them a foolishenesse to make an order, whiche cannot bee kepte, and to take pain to beare a harneis, that cannot defende a man. [sidenote: an aunswere to the questions that were demaunded, concernyng the shoting of ordinaunce; the best remedie to avoide the hurte that the enemie in the fielde maie doe with his ordinaunce; a policie against bowes and dartes; nothyng causeth greater confusion in an armie, than to hinder mennes fightes; nothing more blindeth the sight of men in an armie, then the smoke of ordinaunce; a policie to trouble the enemies sight; the shotte of greate ordinaunce in the fielde, is not moche to bee feared of fotemenne; bicause menne of armes stand closer together then light horsmen, thei ought to remaine behinde the armie till the enemies ordinaunce have done shootyng; the artillerie is no let, why the auncient orders of warfar ought not to be used in these daies.] fabricio. this question of yours (bicause it hath many heddes) hath neede of a long aunswere. it is true, that i made not thartillery to shoote more than ones, and also of thesame ones, i stoode in doubte: the occasion was, for asmoche as it importeth more, for one to take hede not to be striken, then it importeth to strike the enemie. you have to understande, that to purpose that a pece of ordinaunce hurte you not, it is necessarie either to stande where it cannot reche you, or to get behinde a wall, or behinde a banke: other thing there is not that can witholde it: and it is nedefull also, that the one and the other be moste strong. those capitaines whiche come to faight a field, cannot stand behind a wal, or behind bankes, nor where thei maie not be reached: therfore it is mete for them, seyng thei cannot finde a waie to defende them, to finde some mean, by the whiche thei maie be least hurte: nor thei cannot finde any other waie, then to prevente it quickly: the waie to prevent it, is to go to finde it out of hande, and hastely, not at leasure and in a heape: for that through spede, the blowe is not suffered to bee redoubled, and by the thinnesse, lesse nomber of menne maie be hurt. this, a bande of menne ordered, cannot dooe; bicause if thesame marche hastely, it goweth out of order: if it go scattered, the enemie shall have no paine to breake it, for that it breaketh by it self: and therfore, i ordered the armie after soche sorte, that it might dooe the one thyng and the other: for as moche as havyng set in the corners thereof, a thousande veliti, i appoincted that after that our ordinaunce had shotte, thei should issue out together with the light horsemen, to get the enemies artillerie: and therfore, i made not my ordinance to shoote again, to the intente, to give no tyme to the enemie to shoote: bicause space could not be given to me, and taken from other men, and for thesame occasion, where i made my ordinaunce not to shoote the seconde tyme, was for that i would not have suffered the enemie to have shot at al, if i had could: seyng that to mynde that the enemies artillerie be unprofitable, there is no other remedie, but to assaulte it spedely: for as moche as if the enemies forsake it, thou takeste it, if thei will defende it, it is requisite that thei leave it behind, so that being possessed of enemies, and of frendes, it cannot shoote. i would beleve, that with out insamples these reasons should suffice you, yet beyng able to shewe olde ensamples, to prove my saiynges true, i will. ventidio commyng to faight a field with the parthians, whose strength for the moste part, consisted in bowes and arrowes, he suffered theim almoste to come harde to his campe, before he drewe out his armie, the whiche onely he did, to be able quickly to prevent them: and not to give them space to shoote. cesar when he was in fraunce, maketh mencion, that in faighting a battaile with the enemies, he was with so moche furie assaulted of them, that his menne had no time to whorle their dartes, accordyng to the custome of the romaines: wherfore it is seen, that to intende, that a thyng that shooteth farre of, beyng in the field, doe not hurte thee, there is no other remedy, then with as moche celeritie as maie bee, to prevente it. an other cause moved me to procede, without shotyng the ordinaunce, whereat peradventure you will laugh: yet i judge not that it is to be dispraised. ther is nothyng that causeth greater confusion in an armie, then to hinder mennes fightes: whereby many moste puisaunte armies have been broken, by meanes their fighte hath been letted, either with duste, or with the sunne: yet there is nothyng, that more letteth the sight then the smoke that the artillerie maketh in shotyng: therfore, i would thinke that it wer more wisedome, to suffer the enemie to blinde hymself, then to purpose (thou being blind) to go to finde hym: for this cause, either i would not shote, or (for that this should not be proved, considering the reputacion that the artillerie hath) i would place it on the corners of the armie, so that shootyng, it should not with the smoke thereof, blinde the front of thesame, whiche is the importaunce of my men. and to prove that it is a profitable thyng, to let the sight of the enemie, there maie be brought for insample epaminondas, whom to blind the enemies armie, whiche came to faight with hym, he caused his light horsemen, to run before the fronte of the enemies, to raise up the duste, and to lette their sight, whereby he gotte the victorie. and where it semeth unto you, that i have guided the shot of the artillerie, after my owne devise, making it to passe over the heddes of my men, i answer you, that most often tymes, and without comparison, the greate ordinaunce misse the footemen, moche soner than hitte theim: for that the footemen are so lowe, and those so difficult to shoote; that every little that thou raisest theim, thei passe over the heddes of men: and if thei be leveled never so little to lowe, thei strike in the yearth, and the blowe cometh not to theim: also the unevenesse of the grounde saveth them, for that every little hillocke, or high place that is, betwene the men and thordinance, letteth the shot therof. and concernyng horsmen, and in especially men of armes, bicause thei ought to stand more close together, then the light horsemen, and for that thei are moche higher, maie the better be stroken, thei maie, untill the artillerie have shotte, be kepte in the taile of the armie. true it is, that the harkebutters doe moche more hurt, and the field peces, then the greate ordinance, for the whiche, the greatest remedy is, to come to hande strokes quickly: and if in the firste assaulte, there be slaine some, alwaies there shall bee slaine: but a good capitaine, and a good armie, ought not to make a coumpte of a hurte, that is particulare, but of a generall, and to imitate the suizzers, whom never eschue to faight, beyng made afraied of the artillerie: but rather punishe with death those, whiche for feare thereof, either should go out of the ranke, or should make with his body any signe of feare. i made them (so sone as thei had shotte) to bee retired into the armie, that thei might leave the waie free for the battaile: i made no more mencion of theim, as of a thyng unprofitable, the faight beyng begun. you have also saied, that consideryng the violence of this instrument, many judge the armours, and the auncient orders to be to no purpose, and it semeth by this your talke, that men now a daies, have founde orders and armours, whiche are able to defend them against the artillerie: if you knowe this, i would bee glad that you would teache it me: for that hetherto, i never sawe any, nor i beleve that there can any be founde: so that i would understande of soche men, for what cause the souldiours on foote in these daies, weare the breastplate, or the corselet of steele, and thei on horsebacke go all armed: bicause seyng that thei blame the aunciente armyng of men as unprofitable, considryng the artillery, thei ought to despise also this? i would understande moreover, for what occasion the suizzers, like unto the auncient orders, make a battaile close together of sixe, or eight thousande menne, and for what occasion all other have imitated theim, this order bearyng the verie same perill, concernyng the artillerie, that those other should beare, whiche should imitate the antiquitie. i beleve thei should not knowe what to answere: but if you should aske soche souldiours, as had some judgement, thei would aunswere first, that thei go armed, for that though thesame armoure defende theim not from the artillerie: it defendeth them from crossebowes, from pikes, from sweardes, from stones, and from all other hurt, that commeth from the enemies, thei would answere also, that thei went close together, like the suizzers, to be able more easely to overthrow the footemen, to be able to withstand better the horse and to give more difficultie to the enemie to breake them: so that it is seen, that the souldiours have to fear, many other thynges besides the ordinance: from which thynges, with the armours, and with the orders, thei are defended: whereof foloweth, that the better that an armie is armed, and the closer that it hath the orders, and stronger, so moche the surer it is: so that he that is of thesame opinion, that you saie, it behoveth either that he bee of smalle wisedome, or that in this thyng, he hath studied verie little: for as moche as if we see, that so little a parte of the aunciente maner of armyng, whiche is used now a daies, that is the pike, and so little a parte of those orders, as are the maine battailes of the suizzers, dooe us so moche good, and cause our armies to bee so strong, why ought not we to beleve, that the other armours, and thother orders whiche are lefte, be profitable? seyng that if we have no regard to the artillerie, in puttyng our selves close together, as the suizzers, what other orders maie make us more to feare thesame? for as moche as no order can cause us so moche to feare thesame, as those, whiche bryng men together. besides this, if the artillerie of the enemies should not make me afraied, in besiegyng a toune, where it hurteth me with more safegarde, beyng defended of a wall, i beyng not able to prevente it, but onely with tyme, with my artillerie to lette it, after soche sorte that it maie double the blowe as it liste, why should i feare thesame in the field, where i maie quickly prevent it? so that i conclude thus, that the artillerie, according to my opinion, doeth not let, that the aunciente maners cannot be used, and to shewe the auncient vertue: and if i had not talked alreadie with you of this instrument, i would of thesame, declare unto you more at length: but i will remit my self to that, whiche then i saied. luigi. wee maie now understande verie well, how moche you have aboute the artillerie discoursed: and in conclusion, my thinkes you have shewed, that the preventyng it quickly, is the greatest remedie, that maie be had for thesame, beyng in the fielde, and havyng an armie againste you. upon the whiche there groweth in me a doubte: bicause me thinkes, that the enemie might place his ordinaunce in soche wise, in his armie, that it should hurt you, and should be after soche sort garded of the footemen, that it could not be prevented. you have (if you remember your self well) in the orderyng of your armie to faight, made distaunces of three yardes, betwene the one battaile and the other, makyng those distaunces fiftene, whiche is from the battailes, to thextraordinarie pikes: if thenemie, shuld order his armie like unto yours, and should putte the artillerie a good waie within those spaces, i beleve that from thens, it should hurte you with their moste greate safegard: bicause menne can not enter into the force of their enemies to prevent it. [sidenote: a generall rule againste soche thynges as cannot bee withstoode.] fabricio. you doubt moste prudently, and i will devise with my self, either to resolve you the doubte, or shewe you the remedie: i have tolde you, that continually these battailes, either through goyng, or thorowe faightyng, are movyng, and alwaies naturally, thei come to drawe harde together, so that if you make the distaunces of a small breadth, where you set the artillerie, in a little tyme thei be shootte up, after soche sort, that the artillerie cannot any more shoote: if you make theim large, to avoide this perill, you incurre into a greater, where you through those distances, not onely give commoditie to the enemie, to take from you the artillerie, but to breake you: but you have to understande, that it is impossible to keepe the artillerie betwene the bandes, and in especially those whiche go on carriages: for that the artillerie goeth one waie, and shooteth an other waie: so that havyng to go and to shoote, it is necessary, before thei shote, that thei tourne, and for to tourne theim, thei will have so moche space, that fiftie cartes of artillerie, would disorder any armie: therfore, it is mete to kepe them out of the bandes, where thei may be overcome in the maner, as a little afore we have shewed: but admit thei might be kept, and that there might be found a waie betwen bothe, and of soche condicion, that the presyng together of men should not hinder the artillerie, and were not so open that it should give waie to the enemie, i saie, that it is remedied moste easely, with makyng distances in thy armie against it, whiche maie give free passage to the shot of those, and so the violence thereof shall come to be vain, the which maie be doen moste easely: for asmoche, as the enemie mindyng to have his artillerie stand safe, it behoveth that he put them behinde, in the furthest part of the distances, so that the shot of the same, he purposyng that thei hurt not his owne men, ought to passe by right line, and by that very same alwaies: and therefore with givyng theim place, easely thei maie bee avoided: for that this is a generall rule, that to those thynges, whiche cannot be withstoode, there must bee given waie, as the antiquitie made to the eliphantes, and to the carres full of hookes. i beleve, ye, i am more then certaine, that it semeth unto you, that i have ordered and wonne a battaile after my own maner: notwithstanding, i answeer unto you this, when so moche as i have saied hetherto, should not suffice, that it should be impossible, that an armie thus ordered, and armed, should not overcome at the first incounter, any other armie that should bee ordained, as thei order the armies now adaies, whom most often tymes, make not but one front, havyng no targaettes, and are in soche wise unarmed, that thei cannot defende themselves from the enemie at hand, and thei order theim after soche sorte, that if thei set their battailes by flanck, the one to the other, thei make the armie thinne: if thei put the one behind the other, havyng no waie to receive the one the other, thei doe it confusedly, and apt to be easly troubled: and although thei give three names to their armies, and devide them into thre companies, vaward, battaile, and rereward, notwithstandyng it serveth to no other purpose, then to marche, and to distinguis the lodgynges: but in the daie of battaile, thei binde them all to the first brunte, and to the first fortune. luigi. i have noted also in the faightyng of your fielde, how your horsemen were repulced of the enemies horsemen: for whiche cause thei retired to the extraordinaire pikes: whereby grewe, that with the aide of theim, thei withstode, and drave the enemies backe? i beleve that the pikes maie withstande the horses, as you saie, but in a grosse and thicke maine battaile, as the suizzers make: but you in your army, have for the hedde five rankes of pikes, and for the flancke seven, so that i cannot tell how thei maie bee able to withstande them. [sidenote: a battaile how greate so ever it bee, cannot atones occupy above v. rankes of pikes.] fabricio. yet i have told you, how sixe rankes of pikes wer occupied at ones, in the macedonicall falangi, albeit you ought to understande, that a maine battaile of suizzers, if it were made of a thousande rankes, it cannot occupie more then fower, or at the most five: bicause the pikes be sixe yardes and three quarters longe, one yarde and halfe a quarter, is occupied of the handes, wherefore to the firste ranke, there remaineth free five yardes and a half, and a halfe quarter of pike: the seconde ranke besides that whiche is occupied with the hande, consumeth a yarde and half a quarter in the space, whiche remaineth betwene the one ranke and thother: so that there is not left of pike profitable, more then fower yardes and a halfe: to the thirde ranke, by this verie same reason, there remaineth three yardes and a quarter and a halfe: to the fowerth, twoo yardes and a quarter: to the fift one yard and halfe a quarter: the other rankes, for to hurte, be unprofitable, but thei serve to restore these firste rankes, as we have declared, and to bee a fortificacion to those v. then if five of their rankes can withstande the horse, why cannot five of ours withstande theim? to the whiche also there lacketh not rankes behinde, that doeth sustain and make them the very same staie, although thei have no pikes as the other. and when the rankes of thextraordinarie pikes, which are placed on the flanckes, should seme unto you thinne, thei maie bee brought into a quadrante, and put on the flancke nere the twoo battailes, whiche i set in the laste companie of the armie: from the whiche place, thei maie easely altogether succour the fronte, and the backe of the armie, and minister helpe to the horses, accordyng as nede shall require. luigi. would you alwaies use this forme of order, when you would pitche a fielde. [sidenote: an advertiement concernyng the pitchying of a field.] fabricio. no in no wise: for that you ought to varie the facion of the armie, according to the qualitie of the situacion, and the condicion and quantitie of the enemie, as before this reasonyng dooe ende, shall bee shewed certaine insamples: but this forme is given unto you, not so moche as moste strongeste of all, where in deede it is verie strong, as to the intente that thereby you maie take a rule, and an order to learne to knowe the waies to ordeine the other: for as moche, as every science hath his generalitie, upon the whiche a good part of it is grounded. one thing onely i advise you, that you never order an armie, after soche sorte, that those that faight afore, cannot bee sucoured of theim, whiche be set behind: bicause he that committeth this errour, maketh the greateste parte of his armie to bee unprofitable, and if it incounter any strength, it cannot overcome. luigi. there is growen in me, upon this parte a doubte. i have seen that in the placyng of the battailes, you make the fronte of five on a side, the middeste of three, and the last partes of twoo, and i beleve, that it were better to ordain them contrariwise: for that i thinke, that an armie should with more difficultie bee broken, when he that should charge upon it, the more that he should entre into the-same, so moche the stronger he should finde it: and the order devised of you, me thinkes maketh, that the more it is entered into, so moche the weaker it is founde. [sidenote: how the front of the armie ought to bee made; how the middell part of the armie ought to be ordered.] fabricio. if you should remember how to the triarii, whom were the thirde order of the romain legions, there were not assigned more then sixe hundred men, you would doubt lesse, havyng understode how thei were placed in the laste companie: for that you should see, how i moved of this insample, have placed in the last companie twoo battailes, whiche are nine hundred men, so that i come rather (folowyng the insample of the romaine people) to erre, for havyng taken to many, then to fewe: and although this insample should suffice, i will tell you the reason, the which is this. the first fronte of the armie, is made perfectly whole and thicke, bicause it must withstande the brunt of the enemies, and it hath not to receive in it any of their felowes: and for this, it is fitte that it bee full of menne: bicause a fewe menne, should make it weake, either thinnesse, or for lacke of sufficiente nomber: but the seconde companie, for as moche as it must first receive their frendes, to sustain the enemie, it is mete that it have greate spaces, and for this it behoveth, that it be of lesse nomber then the first: for that if it wer of greater nomber, or equall, it should bee conveniente, either not to leave the distaunces, the whiche should be disorder, or leavyng theim, to passe the boundes of thoseafore, the whiche should make the facion of the armie unperfecte: and it is not true that you saie, that the enemie, the more that he entereth into the maine battaile, so moche the weaker he findeth it: for that the enemie, can never faight with the seconde order, except the first be joined with thesame: so that he cometh to finde the middest of the maine battaile more stronger, and not more weaker, havyng to faight with the first, and with the seconde order altogether: the verie same happeneth, when the enemie should come to the thirde companie: for that there, not with twoo battailes, whiche is founde freshe, but with all the maine battaile he must faight: and for that this last part hath to receive moste men, the spaces therof is requisite to be greatest, and that whiche receiveth them, to be the leste nomber. [sidenote: the orderyng of the hinder part of tharmy.] luigi. it pleaseth me thesame that you have told: but answere me also this: if the five first battailes doe retire betwene the three seconde battailes, and after the eight betwene the twoo thirde, it semeth not possible, that the eight beyng brought together, and then the tenne together, maie bee received when thei bee eight, or when thei be tenne in the verie same space, whiche received the five. [sidenote: the retire of the pikes, to place the targaet men.] fabricio. the first thyng that i aunswere is, that it is not the verie same space: for that the five have fower spaces in the middeste, whiche retiryng betwene the thre, or betwene the twoo, thei occupie: then there remaineth thesame space, that is betwene the one maine battaile and other and thesame that is, betwene the battailes, and the extraordinarie pikes, al the whiche spaces makes largenesse: besides this, it is to bee considered, that the battailes kepe other maner of spaces, when thei bee in the orders without beyng altered, then when thei be altered: for that in the alteracion: either thei throng together, or thei inlarge the orders: thei inlarge theim, when thei feare so moche, that thei fall to fliyng, thei thrust them together, when thei feare in soche wise, that thei seke to save them selves, not with runnyng a waie, but with defence: so that in this case, thei should come to be destingueshed, and not to be inlarged. moreover, the five rankes of the pikes, that are before, so sone as thei have begun the faighte, thei ought betwene their battailes to retire, into the taile of the armie, for to give place to the targaet men, that thei maie faighte: and thei goyng into the taile of the armie, maie dooe soche service as the capitain should judge, were good to occupie theim aboute, where in the forward, the faight beyng mingled, thei should otherwise bee altogether unprofitable. and for this the spaces ordained, come to bee for the remnaunte of the menne, wide inough to receive them: yet when these spaces should not suffice, the flankes on the sides be men, and not walles, whom givyng place, and inlargyng them selves, maie make the space to containe so moche, that it maie bee sufficient to receive theim. [sidenote: how the pikes that are placed on the flankes of the armie ought to governe them selves when the rest of the armie is driven to retire.] luigi. the rankes of the extraordinarie pikes, whiche you place on the flanckes of the armie, when the first battailes retire into the second, will you have them to stande still, and remain with twoo homes to the armie? or will you that thei also retire together, with the battailes? the whiche when thei should do, i see not how thei can, havyng no battailes behinde with distaunces that maie receive them. [sidenote: thexercise of the army in generall; the nomber that is mete to be written in the ansigne of every band of men; the degrees of honours in an armie, whiche soche a man ought to rise by, as should bee made a generall capitain.] fabricio. if the enemie overcome theim not, when he inforceth the battailes to retire, thei maie stande still in their order, and hurte the enemie on the flanck, after that the firste battailes retired: but if he should also overcome theim, as semeth reason, beyng so puisaunte, that he is able to repulce the other, thei also ought to retire: whiche thei maie dooe excellently well, although thei have not behinde, any to receive them: bicause from the middest thei maie redouble by right line, entring the one ranke into the other, in the maner whereof wee reasoned, when it was spoken of the order of redoublyng: true it is, that to mynde redoublyng to retire backe, it behoveth to take an other waie, then thesame that i shewed you: for that i told you, that the second ranke, ought to enter into the first, the fowerth into the thirde, and so foorth: in this case, thei ought not to begin before, but behinde, so that redoublyng the rankes, thei maie come to retire backewarde not to tourne forward: but to aunswere to all thesame, that upon this foughten field by me shewed, might of you bee replied. i saie unto you again, that i have ordained you this armie, and shewed this foughten field for two causes, thone, for to declare unto you how it is ordered, the other to shewe you how it is exercised: thorder, i beleve you understande moste well: and concernyng the exersice, i saie unto you, that thei ought to be put together in this forme, as often times as maie be: for as moche as the heddes learne therby, to kepe their battailes in these orders: for that to particulare souldiours, it appertaineth to keepe well the orders of every battaile, to the heddes of the battailes, it appertaineth to keepe theim well in every order of the armie, and that thei knowe how to obeie, at the commaundement of the generall capitain: therefore, it is conveniente that thei knowe, how to joyne the one battaile with thother, that thei maie knowe how to take their place atones: and for this cause it is mete that thansigne of every battaile, have written in some evident part, the nomber therof: as well for to be able to commaunde them, as also for that the capitain, and the souldiours by thesame nomber, maie more easely knowe theim againe: also the maine battailes, ought to be nombred, and to have the nomber in their principal ansigne: therefore it is requisite, to knowe of what nomber the maine battaile shall be, that is placed on the left, or on the right horne of what nombers the battailes bee, that are set in the fronte, and in the middeste, and so foorthe of the other. the antiquitie would also, that these nombers should bee steppes to degrees, of honors of the armies: as for insample, the first degree, is the peticapitain, the seconde, the hedde of fiftie ordinarie veliti, the thirde, the centurion, the fowerth, the hedde of the first battaile, the fifte, of the second, the sixt, of the thirde, and so forthe, even to the tenth battaile, the whiche must be honoured in the seconde place, nexte the generall capitaine of a maine battaile: nor any ought to come to thesame hedde, if first, he have not risen up by all these degrees. and bicause besides these heddes, there be the three conestables of the extraordinarie pikes, and twoo of the extraordinarie veliti, i would that thei should be in the same degree of the conestable of the first battaile: nor i would not care, that there were sixe men of like degree, to thintent, that every one of them might strive, who should doe beste, for to be promised to be hedde of the seconde battaile. then every one of these heddes, knowyng in what place his battaile ought to be sette in, of necessitie it must folowe, that at a sounde of the trompette, so sone as the hedde standarde shall bee erected, all the armie shall be in their places: and this is the first exercise, whereunto an armie ought to bee accustomed, that is to set theim quickly together: and to doe this, it is requisite every daie, and divers times in one daie, to set them in order, and to disorder them. luigi. what armes would you that thansignes of all the armie, shoul'd have beside the nomber? [sidenote: the armes that oughte to bee in the standarde, and in the ansignes of an armie; the second and thirde exercise of an armie; the fowerth exercise of an armie; the soundes of the instrumentes of musicke, that the antiquitie used in their armies; what is signified by the sounde of the trompet.] fabricio. the standarde of the generall capitaine oughte to have the armes of the prince of the armie, all the other, maie have the verie same armes, and to varie with the fieldes, or to varie with the armes, as should seme beste to the lorde of the armie: bicause this importeth little, so that the effect growe, that thei be knowen the one from the other. but let us passe to the other exercise: the which is to make them to move, and with a convenient pace to marche, and to se, that marehyng thei kepe the orders. the third exercise is, that thei learne to handle themselves in thesame maner, whiche thei ought after to handle theimselves in the daie of battaile, to cause the artillerie to shoote, and to bee drawen out of the waie, to make the extraordinarie veliti to issue out, after a likenes of an assault, to retire theim: to make that the firste battailes, as though thei wer sore charged, retire into the spaces of the second: and after, all into the thirde, and from thens every one to retourne to his place: and in soche wise to use theim in this exercise, that to every manne, all thyng maie be knowen, and familiar: the which with practise, and with familiaritie, is brought to passe moste quickly. the fowerth exercise is, that thei learne to knowe by meane of the sounde, and of the ansigne, the commaundemente of their capitaine: for as moche as that, whiche shall be to them pronounced by voice, thei without other commaundemente, maie understande: and bicause the importaunce of this commaundement, ought to growe of the sounde, i shall tell you what soundes the antiquitie used. of the lacedemonians, accordyng as tucidido affirmeth, in their armies were used flutes: for that thei judged, that this armonie, was moste mete to make their armie to procede with gravetie, and with furie: the carthaginens beyng moved by this verie same reason, in the first assaulte, used the violone. aliatte kyng of the lidians, used in the warre the violone, and the flutes: but alexander magnus, and the romaines, used hornes, and trumpettes, as thei, that thought by vertue of soche instrumentes, to bee able to incourage more the myndes of souldiours, and make theim to faight the more lustely: but as we have in armyng the armie, taken of the greke maner, and of the romaine, so in distrihutyng the soundes, we will keepe the customes of the one, and of the other nacion: therefore, nere the generall capitain, i would make the trompettes to stand, as a sounde not onely apt to inflame the armie, but apte to bee heard in all the whole tumoult more, then any other sounde: all the other soundes, whiche should bee aboute the conestables, and the heddes of maine battailes i would, that thei should bee smalle drummes, and flutes, sounded not as thei sounde theim now but as thei use to sounde theim at feastes. the capitaine then with the trompet, should shewe when thei must stande still, and go forward, or tourne backward, when the artillerie must shoote, when the extraordinarie veliti must move, and with the varietie or distinccion of soche soundes, to shewe unto the armie all those mocions, whiche generally maie bee shewed, the whiche trompettes, should bee after followed of the drummes, and in this exercise, bicause it importeth moche, it behoveth moche to exercise the armie. concernyng the horsemen, there would be used likewise trompettes, but of a lesse sounde, and of a divers voice from those of the capitaine. this is as moche as is come into my remembraunce, aboute the order of the armie, and of the exercise of thesame. luigi. i praie you let it not be grevous unto you to declare unto me an other thyng, that is, for what cause you made the light horsmen, and the extraordinarie veliti, to goe with cries, rumours, and furie, when thei gave the charge? and after in the incountering of the rest of tharmie, you shewed, that the thing folowed with a moste greate scilence? and for that i understande not the occasion of this varietie, i would desire that you would declare it unto me. [sidenote: the cries, and rumours, wher with the firste charge is given unto the enemies, and the silence that ought to bee used after, when the faight is ones begunne.] fabricio. the opinion of auncient capitaines, hath been divers about the commyng to handes, whether thei ought with rumour to go a pace, or with scilence to go faire and softely: this laste waie, serveth to kepe the order more sure, and to understande better the commaundementes of the capitaine: the firste, serveth to incourage more the mindes of men: and for that i beleve, that respecte ought to bee had to the one, and to the other of these twoo thynges, i made the one goe with rumour, and thother with scilence: nor me thinkes not in any wise, that the continuall rumours bee to purpose: bicause thei lette the commaundementes, the whiche is a thyng moste pernicious: nor it standeth not with reason, that the romaines used, except at the firste assaulte to make rumour: for that in their histories, is seen many tymes to have happened, that through the wordes, and comfortinges of the capitain the souldiours that ranne awaie, were made to stande to it, and in sundrie wise by his commaundemente, to have varied the orders, the whiche should not have followed, if the rumoures had been louder then his voyce. the fowerth booke luigi. seng that under my governement, a field hath been wonne so honourably, i suppose that it is good, that i tempt not fortune any more, knowyng how variable, and unstable she is: and therefore, i desire to give up my governement, and that zanobi do execute now this office of demaundyng, mindyng to followe the order, whiche concerneth the youngeste: and i knowe he will not refuse this honoure, or as we would saie, this labour, as well for to doe me pleasure, as also for beyng naturally of more stomach than i: nor it shall not make hym afraied, to have to enter into these travailes, where he maie bee as well overcome, as able to conquere. zanobi. i am readie to do what soever shall please you to appoinete me, although that i desire more willingly to heare: for as moche as hetherto, your questions have satisfied me more, then those should have pleased me, whiche in harkenyng to your reasonyng, hath chaunced to come into my remembraunce. but sir, i beleve that it is good, that you lese no tyme, and that you have pacience, if with these our ceremonies we trouble you. fabricio. you doe me rather pleasure, for that this variacion of demaunders, maketh me to knowe the sundrie wittes and sunderie appetites of yours: but remaineth there any thyng, whiche seemeth unto you good, to bee joyned to the matter, that alreadie hath been reasoned of? zanobi. twoo thinges i desire, before you passe to an other parte: the one is, to have you to shewe, if in orderyng armies, there needeth to bee used any other facion: the other, what respectes a capitaine ought to have, before he conducte his men to the faight, and in thesame an accidente risyng or growyng, what reamedie maie be had. [sidenote: to deffende moche the fronte of an armie, is most perillous; what is beste for a capitaine to dooe, where his power is, moche lesse then thenemies power; a general rule; the higher grounde ought to be chosen; an advertisement not to place an armie wher the enemie maie se what the same doeth; respectes for the sonne and winde; the variyng of order and place maie cause the conquered to become victorius; a policie in the ordering of men and pitchyng of a fielde; how to compasse about the enemies power; how a capitaine maie faight and bee as it were sure, not to be overcome; how to trouble the orders of the enemie; what a capitaine oughte to dooe when he hath not so many horsmen as the enemie; a greate aide for horsemen; the policies used betwene aniball and scipio.] fabricio. i will inforce my self to satisfie you, i will not answere now distinctly to your questions: for that whileste i shall aunswere to one, many tymes it will come to passe, that i muste aunswere to an other. i have tolde you, how i have shewed you a facion of an armie, to the intent, that accordyng to thesame, there maie bee given all those facions, that the enemie, and the situacion requireth: for as moche as in this case, bothe accordyng to the power thereof, and accordyng to the enemie, it proceadeth: but note this, that there is not a more perillous facion, then to deffende moche the front of tharmie, if then thou have not a most puisant, and moste great hoste: otherwise, thou oughtest to make it rather grosse, and of small largenesse, then of moche largenes and thin: for when thou hast fewe men in comparison to thenemie, thou oughtest to seke other remedies, as is to ordain thine army in soche a place, wher thou maiest be fortefied, either through rivers, or by meanes of fennes, after soch sort, that thou canst not bee compassed aboute, or to inclose thy self on the flanckes with diches, as cesar did in fraunce. you have to take in this cace, this generall rule, to inlarge your self, or to draw in your self with the front, according to your nomber, and thesame of the enemie. for thenemies being of lesse nomber, thou oughtest to seke large places, havyng in especially thy men well instructed: to the intent thou maiest, not onely compasse aboute the enemie, but to deffende thy orders: for that in places rough and difficulte, beyng not able to prevaile of thy orders, thou commeste not to have any advauntage, hereby grewe, that the romaines almoste alwaies, sought the open fieldes, and advoided the straightes. to the contrarie, as i have said, thou oughtest to doe, if thou hast fewe menne, or ill instructed: for that then thou oughteste to seeke places, either where the little nomber maye be saved, and where the small experience dooe not hurte thee: thou oughtest also to chuse the higher grounde, to be able more easily to infest them: notwithstandyng, this advertisment ought to be had, not to ordaine thy armie, where the enemie maie spie what thou doest and in place nere to the rootes of the same, where the enemies armie maie come: for that in this case, havyng respecte unto the artillerie, the higher place shall gette thee disadvauntage: bicause that alwaies and commodiously, thou mightest of the enemies artillerie bee hurte, without beyng able to make any remedy, and thou couldest not commodiously hurte thesame, beyng hindered by thine owne men. also, he that prepareth an armie to faight a battaile, ought to have respecte, bothe to the sunne, and to the winde, that the one and the other, doe not hurte the fronte, for that the one and the other, will let thee the sight, the one with the beames, and the other with the duste: and moreover, the winde hindereth the weapons, whiche are stroken at the enemie, and maketh their blowes more feable: and concerning the sunne, it sufficeth not to have care, that at the firste it shine not in the face, but it is requisite to consider, that increasyng the daie, it hurte thee not: and for this, it should bee requsite in orderyng the men, to have it all on the backe, to the entente it should have to passe moche tyme, to come to lye on the fronte. this waie was observed of aniball at canne, and of mario against the cimbrians. if thou happen to be moche inferiour of horses, ordaine thine armie emongeste vines, and trees, and like impedimentes, as in our time the spaniardes did, when thei overthrewe the frenchmenne at cirignuola. and it hath been seen many times, with all one souldiours, variyng onely the order, and the place, that thei have become of losers victorers: as it happened to the carthageners, whom havyng been overcome of marcus regolus divers tymes, were after by the counsaill of santippo a lacedemonian, victorious: whom made them to go doune into the plaine, where by vertue of the horses, and of eliphantes, thei were able to overcome the romaines. it semes unto me, accordyng to the auncient insamples that almoste all the excellente capitaines, when thei have knowen, that the enemie hath made strong one side of his battaile, thei have not set against it, the moste strongest parte, but the moste weakest, and thother moste strongest thei have set against the most weakest: after in the beginning the faighte, thei have commaunded to their strongest parte, that onely thei sustaine the enemie, and not to preace upon hym, and to the weaker, that thei suffer them selves to be overcome, and to retire into the hindermoste bandes of the armie. this breadeth twoo greate disorders to the enemie: the firste, that he findeth his strongest parte compassed about, the second is, that semyng unto him to have the victorie, seldome tymes it happeneth, that thei disorder not theim selves, whereof groweth his sodain losse. cornelius scipio beyng in spain, againste asdruball of carthage, and understanding how to asdruball it was knowen, that he in the orderyng the armie, placed his legions in the middest, the whiche was the strongest parte of his armie, and for this how asdruball with like order ought to procede: after when he came to faighte the battaile, he chaunged order, and put his legions on the hornes of the armie, and in the middest, placed all his weakeste men: then commyng to the handes, in a sodain those men placed in the middeste, he made to marche softly, and the hornes of the armie, with celeritie to make forwarde, so that onely the hornes of bothe the armies fought, and the bandes in the middest, through beyng distaunt the one from the other, joyned not together, and thus the strongest parte of scipio, came to faight with the weakest of asdruball, and overcame hym. the whiche waie was then profitable, but now havyng respect to the artillerie, it cannot be used: bicause the same space, whiche should remain in the middest, betwene the one armie and the other, should give tyme to thesame to shoote: the whiche is moste pernicious, as above is saied: therefore it is requisite to laie this waie aside, and to use, as a little afore we saied, makyng all the armie to incounter, and the weakest parte to give place. when a capitaine perceiveth, that he hath a greater armie then his enemie, mindyng to compasse hym aboute, before he be aware let hym ordaine his fronte equall, to thesame of his adversaries, after, so sone as the faight is begun, let hym make the fronte by a little and little to retire, and the flanckes to deffende, and alwaies it shall happen, that the enemie shal find hymself, before he be aware compassed about. when a capitain will faight, as it wer sure not to be broken, let hym ordaine his armie in place, where he hath refuge nere, and safe, either betwene fennes, or betwene hilles, or by some strong citee: for that in this case, he cannot bee followed of the enemie, where the enemie maie be pursued of him: this poincte was used of aniball, when fortune began to become his adversarie, and that he doubted of the valiauntnesse of marcus marcello. some to trouble the orders of the enemie, have commaunded those that were light armed, to begin the faight, and that beyng begunne, to retire betwene the orders: and when the armies were after buckled together, and that the fronte of either of them were occupied in faightyng, thei have made theim to issue out by the flanckes of the battaile, and thesame have troubled and broken. if any perceive hymself to bee inferiour of horse, he maie besides the waies that are alredie shewed, place behinde his horsemen a battaile of pikes, and in faightyng take order, that thei give waie to the pikes, and he shall remain alwaies superiour. many have accustomed to use certain fotemenne lighte armed, to faighte emong horsemen, the whiche hath been to the chivalrie moste greate helpe. of all those, which have prepared armies to the field, be moste praised aniball and scipio, when thei fought in africk: and for that aniball had his armie made of carthaginers, and of straungers of divers nacions, he placed in the first fronte thereof lxxx. elephantes, after he placed the straungers, behinde whom he sette his carthaginers, in the hindermoste place, he putte the italians, in whom he trusted little: the whiche thing he ordained so, for that the straungers havyng before theim the enemie, and behinde beyng inclosed of his men, could not flie: so that being constrained to faight thei should overcome, or wearie the romaines, supposyng after with his freshe and valiaunte men, to be then able easely to overcome the romaines, beeyng wearied. against this order, scipio set the astati, the prencipi, and the triarii, in the accustomed maner, to bee able to receive the one the other, and to rescue the one the other: he made the fronte of the armie, full of voide spaces, and bicause it should not be perceived but rather should seme united, he filled them ful of veliti, to whom he commaunded, that so sone as the eliphantes came, thei should avoide, and by the ordinarie spaces, should enter betwene the legins, and leave open the waie to the eliphauntes, and so it came to passe, that it made vaine the violence of theim, so that commyng to handes, he was superiour. zanobi. you have made me to remember, in alledging me this battaile, how scipio in faighting, made not the astati to retire into thorders of the prencipi, but he devided theim, and made theim to retire in the hornes of the armie, to thintent thei might give place to the prencipi, when he would force forwarde: therfore i would you should tell me, what occasion moved hym, not to observe the accustomed order. [sidenote: cartes full of hookes made to destroie the enemies; the remedy that was used against cartes full of hookes; the straunge maner that silla used in orderyng his army against archelaus; how to trouble in the faighte the armie of the enemies; a policie of caius sulpitius, to make his enemies afraied; a policie of marius againste the duchmenne; a policie of greate importaunce, while a battaile is a faightyng; how horsemen maie bee disordered; how the turke gave the sophie an overthrowe; how the spaniardes overcame the armie of amilcare; how to traine the enemie, to his destruccion; a policie of tullo hostilio and lucius silla in dessemlyng of a mischaunce; sertorius slue a man for telling him of the death of one of his capitaines; howe certaine captaines have staied their men that hath been running awaie; attillius constrained his men that ran awaie to tourne again and to faight; how philip king of macedonia made his men afraied to run awaie; victorie ought with all celeritie to bee folowed; what a capitaine ought to dooe, when he should chaunce to receive an overthrowe; how martius overcame the armie of the carthaginers; a policie of titus dimius to hide a losse, whiche he had received in a faight; a general rule; aniball; scipio; asdruball; a capitaine ought not to faight without advantage, excepte he be constrained; how advauntage maie bee taken of the enemies; furie withstode, converteth into vilenesse; what maner of men a capitaine ought to have about him continually, to consult withall; the condicions of the capitain of the enemies, and of those that are about hym is moste requisite to bee knowen; a timerous army is not to be conducted to faight; how to avoide the faightyng of a fielde.] fabricio. i will tell you. aniball had putte all the strengthe of his armie, in the seconde bande: wherefore scipio for to set againste thesame like strengthe, gathered the prencipi and the triarii together: so that the distaunces of the prencipi, beyng occupied of the triarii, there was no place to bee able to receive the astati: and therefore he made the astati to devide, and to go in the hornes of the armie, and he drewe them not betwene the prencipi. but note, that this waie of openyng the first bande, for to give place to the seconde, cannot bee used, but when a man is superiour to his enemie: for that then there is commoditie to bee able to dooe it, as scipio was able: but beyng under, and repulced, it cannot be doen, but with thy manifest ruine: and therefore it is convenient to have behinde, orders that maie receive thee, but let us tourne to our reasonyng. the auncient asiaticans, emongest other thynges devised of them to hurt the enemies, used carres. the whiche had on the sides certaine hookes, so that not onely thei served to open with their violence the bandes, but also to kill with the hookes the adversaries: against the violence of those, in thre maners thei provided, either thei sustained theim with the thickenesse of the raies, or thei received theim betwene the bandes, as the eliphantes were received, or els thei made with arte some strong resistence: as silla a romaine made againste archelaus, whom had many of these cartes, whiche thei called hooked, who for to sustaine theim, drave many stakes into the grounde, behinde his first bandes of men, whereby the cartes beyng stopped, lost their violence. and the newe maner that silla used against hym in orderyng the armie, is to bee noted: for that he put the veliti, and the horse, behinde, and all the heavie armed afore, leavyng many distaunces to be able to sende before those behinde, when necessite required: whereby the fight beyng begun, with the helpe of the horsemen, to the whiche he gave the waie, he got the victorie. to intende to trouble in the faight the enemies armie, it is conveniente to make some thyng to growe, that maie make theim afraied, either with showyng of newe helpe that commeth, or with showyng thynges, whiche maie represente a terrour unto theim: after soche sorte, that the enemies begiled of that sight, maie be afraied, and being made afraied, thei maie easely bee overcome: the whiche waies minutio rufo used, and accilio glabrione consulls of rome. caius sulpitius also set a greate many of sackes upon mules, and other beastes unprofitable for the warre, but in soche wise ordained, that thei semed men of armes, and he commaunded, that thei should appere upon a hill, while he were a faightyng with the frenchemen, whereby grewe his victorie. the verie same did marius, when he foughte against the duchemen. then the fained assaultes availyng moche, whilest the faight continueth, it is conveniente, that the very assaultes in deede, dooe helpe moche: inespecially if at unwares in the middest of the faight, the enemie might bee assaulted behinde, or on the side: the whiche hardely maie be doen, if the countrie helpe thee not: for that when it is open, parte of thy men cannot bee hid, as is mete to bee doen in like enterprises: but in woddie or hille places, and for this apt for ambusshes parte of thy men maie be well hidden, to be able in a sodain, and contrary to thenemies opinion to assaut him, whiche thyng alwaies shall be occasion to give thee the victorie. it hath been sometyme of greate importaunce, whilest the faighte continueth, to sowe voices, whiche doe pronounce the capitaine of thenemies to be dedde, or to have overcome on the other side of the armie: the whiche many times to them that have used it, hath given the victorie. the chivalrie of the enemies maie bee easely troubled, either with sightes, or with rumours, not used: as creso did, whom put camelles againste the horses of the adversaries, and pirrus sette againste the romaine horsemen eliphantes, the sighte of whiche troubled and disordered them. in our time, the turke discomfited the sophi in persia, and the soldane in surria with no other, then with the noise of harkabuses, the whiche in soche wise, with their straunge rumours, disturbed the horses of those, that the turke mighte easely overcome them: the spaniardes to overcome the armie of amilcare, put in the firste fronte cartes full of towe drawen of oxen, and comming to handes, thei kindeled fire to thesame, wherfore the oxen to flie from the fire, thrust into the armie of amilcar, and opened it. thei are wonte (as we have saied) to begile the enemie in the faight, drawyng him into their ambusshes, where the countrie is commodious for the same purpose, but where it were open and large, many have used to make diches, and after have covered them lightly with bowes and yearth, and lefte certain spaces whole, to be able betnene those to retire: after, so sone as the faight hath been begunne, retiryng by those, and the enemie folowing them, hath fallen in the pittes. if in the faight there happen thee, any accident that maie feare thy souldiours, it is a moste prudente thyng, to knowe how to desemble it, and to pervert it to good, as tullo hostilio did, and lucius silla: whom seyng while thei fought, how a parte of his men wer gone to the enemies side, and how thesame thing had verie moche made afraied his men, he made straighte waie throughout all the armie to be understoode, how all thing proceded, accordyng to his order: the whiche not onely did not trouble the armie, but it increased in them so moche stomack, that he remained victorious. it happened also to silla, that havyng sente certaine souldiours to doe some businesse, and thei beyng slain he saied, to the intent his armie should not be made afraied thereby, that he had with crafte sent theim into the handes of the enemies, for that he had found them nothyng faithfull. sertorius faightyng a battaile in spaine, slue one, whom signified unto hym the death of one of his capitaines, for feare that tellyng the very same to other, he should make theim afraied. it is a moste difficult thyng, an armie beyng now moved to flie, to staie it, and make it to faight. and you have to make this distinccion: either that it is all moved, and then to be impossible to tourne it, or there is moved a parte thereof, and then there is some remedie. many romain capitaines, with making afore those whiche fled, have caused them to staie, making them ashamed of running awaie, as lucius silla did, where alredy parte of his legions beyng tourned to flight, driven awaie by the men of mithridates, he made afore them with a swearde in his hande criyng: if any aske you, where you left your capitaine, saie, we have left hym in boecia, where he faighteth. attillius a consull set againste that ran awaie, them that ranne not awaie, and made them to understande, that if thei would not tourne, thei should be slaine of their frendes, and of their enemies. philip of macedonia understanding how his men feared the scithian souldiours, placed behinde his armie, certaine of his moste trustie horsemen, and gave commission to theim, that thei should kill whom so ever fledde: wherfore, his men mindyng rather to die faightyng, then fliyng, overcame. many romaines, not so moche to staie a flight, as for to give occasion to their men, to make greater force, have whileste thei have foughte, taken an ansigne out of their owne mennes handes, and throwen it emongeste the enemies, and appoincted rewardes to hym that could get it again. i doe not beleve that it is out of purpose, to joyne to this reasonyng those thynges, whiche chaunce after the faight, in especially beyng brief thinges, and not to be left behinde, and to this reasonyng conformable inough. therefore i saie, how the fielde is loste, or els wonne: when it is wonne, the victorie ought with all celeritie to be folowed, and in this case to imitate cesar, and not aniball, whom staiyng after that he had discomfited the romaines at canne, loste the empire of rome: the other never rested after the victorie, but folowed the enemie beyng broken, with greater violence and furie, then when he assalted hym whole: but when a capitaine dooeth loese, he ought to see, if of the losse there maie growe any utilite unto hym, inespecially if there remain any residue of tharmie. the commoditie maie growe of the small advertisment of the enemie, whom moste often times after the victorie, becometh negligent, and giveth thee occasion to oppresse hym, as marcius a romaine oppressed the armie of the carthaginers, whom having slain the twoo scipions, and broken their armie, not estemyng thesame remnaunt of menne, whiche with marcius remained a live, were of hym assaulted and overthrowen: for that it is seen, that there is no thing so moche to bee brought to passe, as thesame, whiche the enemie thinketh, that thou canst not attempte: bicause for the moste parte, men bee hurte moste, where thei doubt leaste: therefore a capitain ought when he cannot doe this, to devise at least with diligence, that the losse bee lesse hurtfull, to dooe this, it is necessarie for thee to use meanes, that the enemie maie not easely folowe thee, or to give him occasion to make delaie: in the first case, some after thei have been sure to lese, have taken order with their heddes, that in divers partes, and by divers waies thei should flie, havyng appoincted wher thei should after assemble together: the which made, that thenemie (fearing to devide the armie) was faine to let go safe either all, or the greatest part of them. in the seconde case, many have cast before the enemie, their dearest thinges, to the entent that he tariyng about the spoile, might give them more laisure to flie. titus dimius used no small policie to hide the losse, whiche he had received in the faight, for asmoche as havyng fought untill night, with great losse of his menne, he made in the night to be buried, the greatest part of them, wherefore in the mornyng, the enemies seyng so many slaine of theirs, and so fewe of the romaines, belevyng that thei had the disavauntage, ran awaie. i trust i have thus confusedly, as i saied, satisfied in good part your demaunde: in dede about the facions of the armies, there resteth me to tell you, how some tyme, by some capitaines, it hath been used to make theim with the fronte, like unto a wedge, judgyng to bee able by soche meane, more easely to open the enemies armie. against this facion, thei have used to make a facion like unto a paire of sheres, to be able betwene thesame voide place, to receive that wedge, and to compasse it about, and to faight with it on every side: whereupon i will that you take this generall rule, that the greatest remedie that is used againste a devise of the enemie, is to dooe willingly thesame, whiche he hath devised that thou shalt dooe perforce: bicause that doyng it willingly, thou doest it with order, and with thy advauntage, and his disadvauntage, if thou shouldest doe it beyng inforced, it should be thy undoyng: for the provyng whereof, i care not to reherse unto you, certain thynges alredy tolde. the adversary maketh the wedge to open thy bandes: if thou gowest with them open, thou disorderest hym, and he disordereth not thee. aniball set the elephantes in the fronte of his armie, to open with theim the armie of scipio. scipio went with it open, and it was the occasion of his victorie, and of the ruine of hym. asdruball placed his strongest men in the middest of the fronte of his armie, to overthrowe scipios menne: scipio commaunded, that by them selves thei should retire and he broke theim: so that like devises when thei are foreseen, bee the causes of the victorie of him, against whom thei be prepared. there remaineth me also, if i remember my self well, to tell you what respectes a capitaine ought to have, before he leade his men to faight: upon whiche i have to tell you firste, how a capitaine ought never to faight a battaile, except he have advauntage, or be constrained. the vantage groweth of the situacion, of the order, of havyng more, or better menne: the necessitie groweth when thou seest how that not faightyng, thou muste in any wise lose, as should bee for lackyng of money, and for this, thy armie to bee ready all maner of waies to resolve, where famishemente is ready to assaulte thee, where the enemie looketh to bee ingrosed with newe men: in these cases, thou oughtest alwaies to faight, although with thy disadvauntage: for that it is moche better to attempte fortune, where she maie favour thee, then not attemptyng, to see thy certaine ruine: and it is as grevous a faulte in this case, in a capitain not to faight, as to have had occasion to overcome, and not to have either knowen it through ignoraunce, or lefte it through vilenesse. the advauntages some tymes the enemie giveth thee, and some tymes thy prudence: many in passyng rivers have been broken of their enemie, that hath been aware thereof, whom hath taried, till the one halfe hath been of the one side, and the other halfe on the other, and then hath assaulted them: as cesar did to the suizzers, where he destroied the fowerth parte of theim, through beyng halfe over a river. some tyme thy enemie is founde wearie, for havyng folowed thee to undescritely, so that findyng thy self freshe and lustie, thou oughtest not to let passe soche an occasion: besides this, if the enemie offer unto thee in the mornyng betymes to faight, thou maiest a good while deferre to issue out of thy lodgyng, and when he hath stoode long in armour, and that he hath loste that same firste heate, with the whiche he came, thou maiest then faight with him. this waie scipio and metellus used in spaine: the one against asdruball, the other against sertorius. if the enemie be deminished of power, either for havyng devided the armie, as the scipions in spain, or for some other occasion, thou oughteste to prove chaunce. the greateste parte of prudent capitaines, rather receive the violence of the enemies, then go with violence to assalte them: for that the furie is easely withstoode of sure and steddie menne, and the furie beyng sustained, converteth lightly into vilenesse: thus fabius did againste the sannites, and against the galles, and was victorious and his felowe decius remained slain. some fearing the power of their enemies, have begun the faight a little before night, to the intent that their men chaunsyng to bee overcome, might then by the helpe of the darkenesse thereof, save theim selves. some havyng knowen, how the enemies armie beyng taken of certaine supersticion, not to faight in soche a tyme, have chosen thesame tyme to faighte, and overcome: the whiche cesar observed in fraunce, againste arionistus, and vespasian in surrie, againste the jewes. the greatest and moste importaunte advertismente, that a capitaine ought to have, is to have aboute hym faithfull menne, that are wise and moste expert in the warre, with whom he must continually consulte and reason of his men, and of those of the enemies, whiche is the greater nomber, whiche is beste armed, or beste on horsebacke, or best exercised, whiche be moste apte to suffer necessitie, in whom he trusteth moste, either in the footemen, or in the horsemen: after thei ought to consider the place where thei be, and whether it be more to the purpose for thenemie, then for him: which of theim hath victualles moste commodious: whether it be good to deferre the battaile, or to faight it: what good might bee given hym, or taken awaie by tyme: for that many tymes, souldiours seyng the warre to be delaied, are greved, and beyng wearie, in the pain and in the tediousnesse therof, wil forsake thee. it importeth above all thyng, to knowe the capitain of the enemies, and whom he hath aboute hym, whether he be rashe, or politike, whether he be fearfull, or hardie: to see how thou maiest truste upon the aidyng souldiours. and above all thyng thou oughtest to take hede, not to conducte the armie to faight when it feareth, or when in any wise it mistrusteth of the victorie: for that the greatest signe to lose, is thei beleve not to be able to winne: and therfore in this case, thou oughtest to avoide the faightyng of the fielde, either with doyng as fabius maximus, whom incampyng in strong places, gave no courage to aniball, to goe to finde hym, or when thou shouldest thinke, that the enemie also in strong places, would come to finde thee, to departe out of the fielde, and to devide the menne into thy tounes to thentent that tediousnesse of winnyng them, maie wearie hym. zanobi. cannot the faightyng of the battaile be otherwise avoided, then in devidyng the armie in sunderie partes and placyng the men in tounes? [sidenote: fabius maximus.] fabricio. i beleve that ones alreadie, with some of you i have reasoned, how that he, that is in the field, cannot avoide to faight the battaile, when he hath an enemie, which will faight with hym in any wise, and he hath not, but one remedie, and that is, to place him self with his armie distant fiftie miles at leaste, from his adversarie, to be able betymes to avoide him, when he should go to finde hym. for fabius maximus never avoided to faight the battaile with aniball, but he would have it with his advauntage: and aniball did not presume to bee able to overcome hym, goyng to finde hym in the places where he incamped: where if he had presupposed, to have been able to have overcome, it had been conveniente for fabius, to have fought the battaile with hym, or to have avoided. [sidenote: philip king of macedonia, overcome by the romaines; how cingentorige avoided the faightyng of the fielde with cesar; the ignorance of the venecians; what is to be doen wher soldiours desire to faight, contrary to their capitaines minde; how to incourage souldiers; an advertisment to make the soldiour most obstinately to faight.] philip kyng of macedonia, thesame that was father to perse, commyng to warre with the romaines, pitched his campe upon a verie high hill, to the entent not to faight with theim: but the romaines wente to find hym on thesame hill, and discomfaited hym. cingentorige capitain of the frenche menne, for that he would not faight the field with cesar, whom contrarie to his opinion, had passed a river, got awaie many miles with his men. the venecians in our tyme, if thei would not have come to have fought with the frenche kyng, thei ought not to have taried till the frenche armie, had passed the river addus, but to have gotten from them as cingentorige, where thei havyng taried knewe not how to take in the passyng of the men, the occasion to faight the battaile, nor to avoide it: for that the frenche men beyng nere unto them, as the venecians went out of their campe, assaulted theim, and discomfited theim: so it is, that the battaile cannot bee avoided, when the enemie in any wise will faight, nor let no man alledge fabius, for that so moche in thesame case, he did flie the daie of battaile, as aniball. it happeneth many tymes, that thy souldiours be willyng to faight, and thou knoweste by the nomber, and by the situacion, or for some other occasion to have disadvauntage, and desirest to make them chaunge from this desire: it happeneth also, that necessitie, or occasion, constraineth thee to faight, and that thy souldiours are evill to be trusted, and smally disposed to faight: where it is necessarie in thone case, to make theim afraied, and in the other to incourage theim: in the firste case, when perswacions suffiseth not, there is no better waie, then to give in praie, a part of them unto thenemie, to thintent those that have, and those that have not fought, maie beleve thee: and it may very wel be doen with art, thesame which to fabius maximus hapned by chaunce. tharmie of fabius (as you knowe) desired to faight with aniballs armie: the very same desire had the master of his horses: to fabius it semed not good, to attempte the faight: so that through soche contrary opinions, he was fain to devide the armie: fabius kept his men in the campe, the other fought, and commyng into great perill, had been overthrowen, if fabius had not rescued him: by the whiche insample the maister of the horse, together with all the armie, knewe how it was a wise waie to obeie fabius. concernyng to incourage theim to faight, it should be well doen, to make them to disdain the enemies, shewyng how thei speake slaunderous woordes of them, to declare to have intelligence with them, and to have corrupted part of them, to incampe in place, where thei maie see the enemies, and make some light skirmishe with them, for that the thyng that is dailie seen, with more facilitie is despised: to shewe theim to bee unworthie, and with an oracion for the purpose, to reprehende them of their cowardnesse, and for to make them ashamed, to tell theim that you will faight alone, when thei will not beare you companie. and you ought above all thyng to have this advertismente, mindyng to make the souldiour obstinate to faight, not to permitte, that thei maie send home any of their substaunce, or to leave it in any place, till the warre bee ended, that thei maie understande, that although fliyng save their life, yet it saveth not theim their goodes, the love whereof, is wonte no lesse then thesame, to make men obstinate in defence. zanobi. you have tolde, how the souldiours maie be tourned to faight, with speakyng to theim: doe you meane by this, that all the armie must bee spoken unto, or to the heddes thereof? [sidenote: it is requisite for excellent capitaines to bee good orators; alexander magnus used openly to perswade his armie; the effecteousnes of speking; souldiours ought to be accustomed to heare their capitaine speake; how in olde time souldiers were threatened for their faltes; enterprises maie the easelier be brought to passe by meanes of religion; sertorius; a policie of silla; a policie of charles the seventh king of fraunce against the englishmen; how souldiers maiebee made to esteme little their enemies; the surest wai to make souldiours moste obstinat to faight; by what meanes obstinatenesse to faighte is increased.] fabricio. to perswade, or to diswade a thyng unto fewe, is verie easie, for that if woordes suffise not, you maie then use aucthoritie and force: but the difficultie is, to remove from a multitude an evill opinion, and that whiche is contrary either to the common profite, or to thy opinion, where cannot be used but woordes, the whiche is meete that thei be heard of every man, mindyng to perswade them all. wherfore, it was requisite that the excellente capitaines were oratours: for that without knowyng how to speake to al the army, with difficultie maie be wrought any good thing: the whiche altogether in this our tyme is laied aside. rede the life of alexander magnus, and you shall see how many tymes it was necessarie for hym to perswade, and to speake publikly to his armie: otherwise he should never have brought theim, beyng become riche, and full of spoile, through the desertes of arabia, and into india with so moche his disease, and trouble: for that infinite tymes there growe thynges, wherby an armie ruinateth, when the capitain either knoweth not, or useth not to speake unto thesame, for that this speakyng taketh awaie feare, in courageth the mindes, increaseth the obstinatenes to faight, discovereth the deceiptes, promiseth rewardes, sheweth the perilles, and the waie to avoide theim, reprehendeth, praieth, threatened, filleth full of hope, praise, shame, and doeth a those thynges, by the whiche the humaine passions are extincte or kendled: wherefore, that prince, or common weale, whiche should appoincte to make a newe power, and cause reputacion to their armie, ought to accustome the souldiours thereof, to heare the capitain to speake, and the capitain to know how to speake unto them. in kepyng desposed the souldiours in old tyme, to faight for their countrie, the religion availed moche, and the othes whiche thei gave them, when thei led theim to warfare: for as moche as in al their faultes, thei threatned them not onely with those punishementes, whiche might be feared of men but with those whiche of god might be looked for: the whiche thyng mingled with the other religious maners, made many tymes easie to the auncient capitaines all enterprises, and will doe alwaies, where religion shall be feared, and observed. sertorius prevailed, by declaryng that he spake with a stagge, the whiche in goddes parte, promised hym the victorie. silla saied, he spoke with an image, whiche he had taken out of the temple of apollo. many have tolde how god hath appered unto them in their slepe, whom hath admonished them to faight. in our fathers time, charles the seventh kyng of fraunce, in the warre whiche he made againste the englishemen, saied, he counsailed with a maide, sent from god, who was called every where the damosell of fraunce, the which was occacion of his victorie. there maie be also used meanes, that maie make thy men to esteme little the enemie, as agesilao a spartaine used, whom shewed to his souldiours, certain persians naked, to the intent that seyng their delicate members, thei should not have cause to feare them. some have constrained their men to faight through necessitie, takyng awaie from them all hope of savyng theim selves, savyng in overcommyng. the whiche is the strongest, and the beste provision that is made, to purpose to make the souldiour obstinate to faight: whiche obstinatenesse is increased by the confidence, and love of the capitaine, or of the countrie. confidence is caused through the armour, the order the late victorie, and the opinion of the capitaine. the love of the countrie, is caused of nature: that of the capitain, through vertue, more then by any other benefite: the necessities maie be many, but that is strongest, whiche constraineth thee; either to overcome, or to dye. the fiveth booke [sidenote: how the romaines marched with their armies; how the romaines ordered their armie when it happened to be assaulted on the waie; how the main battailes ought to marche; the orderyng of an armie after soche sorte, that it maie marche safelie through the enemies countrie and be alwaies in a redines to faight; the place in the armie wher the bowmen and harkabutters are appoincted; the place in the armie wher thextraordinarie pikes are appoincted. the place in the armie wherthe generall capitain must be; where the artillerie must be placed. the light horsmenne must be sente before to discover the countrie and the menne of armes to come behind tharmy; a generall rule concernyng horse; wher the carriages and the unarmed are placed; the waie must be made plaine wher the armie shall marche in order; how many miles a day an armie maie marche in battaile raie, to bee able to incampe before sunne set; the orderyng of the armie, when it is assaulted on the vawarde; the orderyng of tharmie when thenemie commes to assaulte it behinde; how the armie is ordered when it is assaulted of any of the sides; doen when the army is assaulted on twoo sides.] fabricio. i have shewed you, how an armi, is ordained to faight a fielde with an other armie, which is seen pitched against it, and have declared unto you, howe the same is overcome, and after many circumstaunces, i have likewise shewed you, what divers chaunces, maie happen about thesame, so that me thinkes tyme to shewe you now, how an armie is ordered, againste thesame enemie, whiche otherwise is not seen, but continually feared, that he assaulte thee: this happeneth when an armie marcheth through the enemies countrie, or through suspected places. firste, you must understande, how a romaine armie, sent alwaies ordinarely afore, certaine bandes of horsemen, as spies of the waie: after followed the right horne, after this, came all the carriages, whiche to thesame apperteined, after this, came a legion, after it, the carriages therof, after that, an other legion, and next to it, their carriages, after whiche, came the left horne, with the carriages thereof at their backe, and in the laste part, folowed the remnaunte of the chivalrie: this was in effecte the maner, with whiche ordinarily thei marched: and if it happened that the armie were assaulted in the waie on the fronte, or on the backe, thei made straight waie all the carriages to bee drawen, either on the right, or on the lefte side, accordyng as chaunsed, or as thei could beste, havyng respecte to the situacion: and all the men together free from their impedimentes, made hedde on that parte, where the enemie came. if thei were assaulted on the flancke, thei drue the carriages towardes thesame parte that was safe, and of the other, thei made hedde. this waie beyng well and prudently governed, i have thought meete to imitate, sending afore the light horsemen, as exploratours of the countrie: then havyng fower maine battailes i would make them to marche in araie, and every one with their carriages folowyng theim. and for that there be twoo sortes of carriages, that is partainyng to particulare souldiours, and partainyng to the publike use of all the campe, i would devide the publike carriages into fower partes, and to every maine battaile, i would appoinct his parte, deviding also the artillerie into fower partes, and all the unarmed, so that every nomber of armed menne, should equally have their impedimentes. but bicause it happeneth some times, that thei marche through the countrie, not onely suspected, but so daungerous, that thou fearest every hower to be assaulted, thou art constrained for to go more sure, to chaunge the forme of marchyng, and to goe in soche wise prepared, that neither the countrie menne, nor any armie, maie hurte thee, findyng thee in any parte unprovided. in soche case, the aunciente capitaines were wont, to marche with the armie quadrante, whiche so thei called this forme, not for that it was altogether quadrante, but for that it was apte to faight of fower partes, and thei saied, that thei wente prepared, bothe for the waie, and for the faight: from whiche waie, i will not digresse, and i will ordaine my twoo maine battailes, whiche i have taken for to make an armie of, to this effect. mindyng therefore, to marche safely through the enemies countrie, and to bee able to aunswere hym on every side, when at unwares the armie might chaunce to be assaulted, and intendyng therefore, accordyng to the antiquitie, to bryng thesame into a square, i would devise to make a quadrant, that the rome therof should be of space on every part clix. yardes, in this maner. first i would put the flanckes, distant the one flanck from the other, clix. yardes, and i would place five battailes for a flancke, in a raie in length, and distant the one from the other, twoo yardes and a quarter: the whiche shall occupie with their spaces, every battaile occupiyng thirtie yardes, clix. yardes. then betwen the hedde and the taile of these two flanckes, i would place the other tenne battailes, in every parte five, orderyng them after soche sorte, that fower should joyne to the hedde of the right flanck, and fower to the taile of the lefte flancke, leaving betwene every one of them, a distance of thre yardes: one should after joyne to the hedde of the lefte flancke, and one to the taile of the right flancke: and for that the space that is betwene the one flancke and the other, is clix. yardes, and these battailes whiche are set the one to the side of the other by breadth, and not by length, will come to occupie with the distaunces one hundred yardes and a halfe yarde, there shall come betwene theim fower battailes, placed in the fronte on the right flancke, and the one placed in thesame on the lefte, to remaine a space of fiftie and eighte yardes and a halfe, and the verie same space will come to remaine in the battailes, placed in the hinder parte: nor there shall bee no difference, saving that the one space shall come on the parte behind towardes the right horne, and thother shall come on the parte afore, towardes the lefte home. in the space of the lviii. yardes and a halfe before, i would place all the ordinarie veliti, in thesame behinde, the extraordinarie, which wil come to be a thousande for a space, and mindyng to have the space that ought to be within the armie, to be every waie clix. yardes, it is mete that the five battailes, whiche are placed in the hedde, and those whiche are placed in the taile, occupie not any parte of the space, whiche the flanckes keepe: and therefore it shall be convenient, that the five battailes behinde, doe touche with the fronte, the taile of their flanckes, and those afore, with the taile to touche he hedde, after soche sorte, that upon every corner of the ame armie, there maie remaine a space, to receive an other battaile: and for that there bee fower spaces, i would take fower bandes of the extraordinarie pikes, and in every corner i would place one, and the twoo ansignes of the foresaied pikes, whiche shall remain overplus, i would sette in the middest of the rome of this armie, in a square battaile, on the hedde whereof, should stande the generall capitaine, with his menne about him. and for that these battailes ordeined thus, marche all one waie, but faight not all one waie, in puttyng them together, those sides ought to be ordained to faight, whiche are not defended of thother battailes. and therfore it ought to be considered, that the five battailes that be in the front, have all their other partes defended, excepte the fronte: and therfore these ought to bee put together in good order, and with the pikes afore. the five battailes whiche are behinde, have all their sides defended, except the parte behinde, and therefore those ought to bee put together in soche wise, that the pikes come behind, as in the place therof we shall shewe. the five battailes that bee in the right flancke, have all their sides defended, except the right flancke. the five that be on the left flanck, have all their partes defended, excepte the lefte flancke: and therefore in orderyng the battailes, thei ought to bee made, that the pikes maie tourne on the same flanck, that lieth open: and the peticapitaines to stand on the hedde, and on the taile, so that nedyng to faight, all the armour and weapons maie be in their due places, the waie to doe this, is declared where we reasoned of the maner of orderyng the battailes. the artillerie i would devide, and one parte i would place without, on the lefte flancke, and the other on the right. the light horsemen, i would sende afore to discover the countrie. of the menne of armes, i would place part behinde, on the right home, and parte on the lefte, distante about thirtie yardes from the battailes: and concerning horse, you have to take this for a general rule in every condicion, where you ordaine an armie, that alwaies thei ought to be put, either behinde, or on the flanckes of thesame: he that putteth them afore, over against the armie, it behoveth hym to doe one of these twoo thinges, either that he put them so moche afore, that beyng repulced, thei maie have so moche space, that maie give them tyme, to be able to go a side from thy footemen, and not to runne upon them, or to order them in soche wise, with so many spaces, that the horses by those maie enter betwene them, without disorderyng them. nor let no man esteme little this remembraunce, for as moche as many capitaines, whom havyng taken no hede thereof, have been ruinated, and by themselves have been disordered, and broken. the carriages and the unarmed menne are placed, in the rome that remaineth within the armie, and in soche sorte equally devided, that thei maie give the waie easely, to whom so ever would go, either from the one corner to the other, or from the one hedde, to the other of the armie. these battailes without the artillerie and the horse, occupie every waie from the utter side, twoo hundred and eleven yardes and a halfe of space: and bicause this quadrante is made of twoo main battailes, it is convenient to distinguishe, what part thone maine battaile maketh, and what the other: and for that the main battailes are called by the nomber, and every of theim hath (as you knowe) tenne battailes, and a generall hed, i would cause that the first main battaile, should set the first v. battailes therof in the front, the other five, in the left flanck, and the capitain of the same should stande in the left corner of the front. the seconde maine battaile, should then put the firste five battailes therof, in the right flanck, and the other five in the taile, and the hedde capitain of thesame, should stande in the right corner, whom should come to dooe the office of the tergiductor. the armie ordained in this maner, ought to be made to move, and in the marchyng, to observe all this order, and without doubte, it is sure from all the tumultes of the countrie men. nor the capitain ought not to make other provision, to the tumultuarie assaultes, then to give sometyme commission to some horse, or ansigne of veliti, that thei set themselves in order: nor it shall never happen that these tumultuous people, will come to finde thee at the drawyng of the swerd, or pikes poincte: for that men out of order, have feare of those that be in araie: and alwaies it shall bee seen, that with cries and rumours, thei will make a greate assaulte, without otherwise commyng nere unto thee, like unto barking curres aboute a mastie. aniball when he came to the hurte of the romaines into italie, he passed through all fraunce, and alwaies of the frenche tumultes, he took small regarde. mindyng to marche, it is conveniente to have plainers and labourers afore, whom maie make thee the waie plaine, whiche shall bee garded of those horsemen, that are sent afore to viewe the countrie: an armie in this order maie marche tenne mile the daie, and shall have tyme inough to incampe, and suppe before sunne goyng doune, for that ordinarely, an armie maie marche twentie mile: if it happen that thou be assaulted, of an armie set in order, this assaulte cannot growe sodainly: for that an armie in order, commeth with his pace, so that thou maiest have tyme inough, to set thy self in order to faight the field, and reduce thy menne quickly into thesame facion, or like to thesame facion of an armie, which afore is shewed thee. for that if thou be assaulted, on the parte afore, thou needeste not but to cause, that the artillerie that be on the flanckes, and the horse that be behinde, to come before, and place theimselves in those places, and with those distaunces, as afore is declared. the thousande veliti that bee before, must go out of their place, and be devided into ccccc. for a parte, and go into their place, betwene the horse and the hornes of tharmy: then in the voide place that thei shal leave, the twoo ansignes of the extraordinarie pikes muste entre, whiche i did set in the middest of the quadrante of the armie. the thousande veliti, whiche i placed behinde, must departe from thesame place, and devide them selves in the flanckes of the battailes, to the fortificacion of those: and by the open place that thei shal leave, all the carriages and unarmed menne must go out, and place themselves on the backe of the battaile. then the rome in the middeste beyng voided, and every man gone to his place: the five battailes, whiche i placed behinde on the armie, must make forward in the voide place, that is betwene the one and the other flanck, and marche towardes the battailes, that stand in the hedde, and three of theim, muste stande within thirtie yardes of those, with equall distances, betwene the one and the other, and the other twoo shal remain behinde, distaunte other thirtie yardes: the whiche facion maie bee ordained in a sodaine, and commeth almoste to bee like, unto the firste disposicion, whiche of tharmy afore we shewed. and though it come straighter in the fronte, it commeth grosser in the flanckes, whiche giveth it no lesse strength: but bicause the five battailes, that be in the taile, have the pikes on the hinder parte, for the occasion that before we have declared, it is necessarie to make theim to come on the parte afore, mindyng to have theim to make a backe to the front of tharmie: and therfore it behoveth either to make them to tourne battaile after battaile, as a whole body, or to make them quickly to enter betwen thorders of targettes, and conduct them afore, the whiche waie is more spedy, and of lesse disorder, then to make them to turn al together: and so thou oughtest to doe of all those, whiche remain behind in every condicion of assault, as i shal shewe you. if it appere that thenemie come on the part behinde, the first thyng that ought to bee dooen, is to cause that every man tourne his face where his backe stode, and straight waie tharmie cometh to have made of taile, hed, and of hed taile: then al those waies ought to be kept, in orderyng thesame fronte, as i tolde afore. if the enemie come to incounter the right flancke, the face of thy armie ought to bee made to tourne towardes thesame side: after, make all those thynges in fortificacion of thesame hedde, whiche above is saied, so that the horsemen, the veliti, and the artillerie, maie be in places conformable to the hed thereof: onely you have this difference, that in variyng the hed of those, which are transposed, some have to go more, and some lesse. in deede makyng hedde of the right flancke, the veliti ought to enter in the spaces, that bee betwene the horne of the armie, and those horse, whiche were nerest to the lefte flancke, in whose place ought to enter, the twoo ansignes of the extraordinarie pikes, placed in the middest: but firste the carriages and the unarmed, shall goe out by the open place, avoidyng the rome in the middest, and retiryng themselves behinde the lefte flancke, whiche shall come to bee then the taile of the armie: the other veliti that were placed in the taile, accordyng to the principall orderyng of the armie, in this case, shall not move: bicause the same place should not remaine open, whiche of taile shall come to be flancke: all other thyng ought to bee dooen, as in orderyng of the firste hedde is saied: this that is told about the makyng hed of the right flanck, must be understode to be told, havyng nede to make it of the left flanck: for that the very same order ought to bee observed. if the enemie should come grose, and in order to assaulte thee on twoo sides, those twoo sides, whiche he commeth to assaulte thee on, ought to bee made stronge with the other twoo sides, that are not assaulted, doublyng the orders in eche of theim, and devidyng for bothe partes the artillerie, the veliti, and the horse. if he come on three or on fower sides, it is necessarie that either thou or he lacke prudence: for that if thou shalt bee wise, thou wilte never putte thy self in place, that the enemie on three or fower sides, with a greate nomber of men, and in order, maie assault thee: for that mindyng, safely to hurte thee, it is requisit, that he be so great, that on every side, he maie assault thee, with as many men, as thou haste almoste in al thy army: and if thou be so unwise, that thou put thy self in the daunger and force of an enemie, whom hath three tymes more menne ordained then thou, if thou catche hurte, thou canste blame no man but thy self: if it happen not through thy faulte, but throughe some mischaunce, the hurt shall be without the shame, and it shal chaunce unto thee, as unto the scipions in spaine, and to asdruball in italie but if the enemie have not many more men then thou, and intende for to disorder thee, to assaulte thee on divers sides, it shal be his foolishnesse, and thy good fortune: for as moche as to doe so, it is convenient, that he become so thinne in soche wise, that then easely thou maiste overthrow one bande, and withstande an other, and in short time ruinate him: this maner of ordering an armie against an enemie, whiche is not seen, but whiche is feared, is a necessarie and a profitable thing, to accustome thy souldiours, to put themselves together, and to march with soche order, and in marchyng, to order theimselves to faight, accordyng to the first hedde, and after to retourne in the forme, that thei marched in, then to make hedde of the taile, after, of the flanckes, from these, to retourne into the first facion: the whiche exercises and uses bee necessarie, mindyng to have an armie, throughly instructed and practised: in whiche thyng the princes and the capitaines, ought to take paine. nor the discipline of warre is no other, then to knowe how to commaunde, and to execute these thynges. nor an instructed armie is no other, then an armie that is wel practised in these orders: nor it cannot be possible, that who so ever in this time, should use like disciplin shall ever bee broken. and if this quadrante forme whiche i have shewed you, is somewhat difficulte, soche difficultnesse is necessarie, takyng it for an exercise: for as moche as knowyng well, how to set theim selves in order, and to maintaine theim selves in the same, thei shall knowe after more easely, how to stand in those, whiche should not have so moche difficultie. zanobi. i beleve as you saie, that these orders bee verie necessarie, and i for my parte, knowe not what to adde or take from it: true it is, that i desire to know of you twoo thynges, the one, if when you will make of the taile, or of the flancke hedde, and would make them to tourne, whether this be commaunded by the voice, or with the sounde: thother, whether those that you sende afore, to make plain the waie, for the armie to marche, ought to be of the verie same souldiours of your battailes, or other vile menne appoincted, to like exercise. [sidenote: commaundementes of capitaines being not wel understoode, maie be the destruction of an armie; respect that is to be had in commaundementes made with the sounde of the trompet; in commaundmentes made with the voice, what respect is to be had; of pianars.] fabricio. your firste question importeth moche: for that many tymes the commaundementes of capitaines, beyng not well understoode, or evill interpreted, have disordered their armie: therfore the voices, with the whiche thei commaunde in perilles, ought to bee cleare, and nete. and if thou commaunde with the sounde, it is convenient to make, that betwene the one waie and the other, there be so moche difference, that the one cannot be chaunged for the other: and if thou commaundest with the voice, thou oughteste to take heede, that thou flie the general voices, and to use the particulares, and of the particulars, to flie those, whiche maie be interpreted sinisterly. many tymes the saiyng backe, backe, hath made to ruinate an armie; therfore this voice ought not to be used, but in steede therof to use, retire you. if you will make theim to tourne, for to chaunge the hedde, either to flanck, or to backe, use never to saie tourne you, but saie to the lefte, to the right, to the backe, to the front: thus all the other voices ought to be simple, and nete, as thrust on, march, stande stronge, forwarde, retourne you: and all those thynges, whiche maie bee dooen with the voice, thei doe, the other is dooen with the sounde. concernyng those menne, that must make the waies plaine for the armie to marche, whiche is your seconde question, i would cause my owne souldiours to dooe this office, as well bicause in the aunciente warfare thei did so, as also for that there should be in the armie, lesser nomber of unarmed men, and lesse impedimentes: and i would choose out of every battaile, thesame nomber that should nede, and i would make theim to take the instrumentes, meete to plaine the grounde withall, and their weapons to leave with those rankes, that should bee nereste them, who should carrie them, and the enemie commyng, thei shall have no other to doe, then to take them again, and to retourne into their araie. zanobi. who shall carrie thinstrumentes to make the waie plaine withall? fabricio. the cartes that are appoincted to carrie the like instrumentes. zanobi. i doubte whether you should ever brynge these our souldiours, to labour with shovell or mattocke, after soche sorte. [sidenote: the victualles that thantiquitie made provision of, for their armies.] fabricio. all these thynges shall bee reasoned in the place thereof, but now i will let alone this parte, and reason of the maner of the victualing of the armie: for that me thinketh, havyng so moche traivailed theim, it is tyme to refreshe them, and to comfort them with meate. you have to understande, that a prince ought to ordaine his armie, as expedite as is possible, and take from thesame all those thynges, whiche maie cause any trouble or burthen unto it, and make unto hym any enterprise difficulte. emongest those thynges that causeth moste difficultie, is to be constrained to keepe the armie provided of wine, and baked bread. the antiquitie cared not for wine, for that lackyng it, thei dranke water, mingeled with a little vinegre, to give it a taste: for whiche cause, emong the municions of victualles for the hoste, vineger was one, and not wine. thei baked not the breade in ovens, as thei use for citees, but thei provided the meale, and of thesame, every souldiour after his owne maner, satisfied hym self, havyng for condimente larde and baken, the whiche made the breade saverie, that thei made, and maintained theim strong, so that the provision of victualles for the armie, was meale, vineger, larde, and bacon, and for the horses barley. thei had ordinarely heardes of greate beastes and small, whiche folowed the armie, the whiche havyng no nede to bee carried, caused not moche impedimente. of this order there grewe, that an armie in old time, marched somtymes many daies through solitarie places, and difficulte, without sufferyng disease of victualles: for that thei lived of thyngs, whiche easely thei might convey after them. to the contrarie it happeneth in the armies, that are now a daies, whiche mindyng not to lacke wine, and to eate baked breade in thesame maner, as when thei are at home, whereof beyng not able to make provision long, thei remaine often tymes famished, or though thei be provided, it is dooen with disease, and with moste greate coste: therfore i would reduce my armie to this maner of living: and i would not that thei should eate other bread, then that, which by themselves thei should bake. concernyng wine, i would not prohibite the drinkyng thereof, nor yet the commyng of it into the armie, but i would not use indevour, nor any labour for to have it, and in the other provisions, i would governe my self altogether, like unto the antiquitie: the whiche thing, if you consider well, you shall see how moche difficultie is taken awaie, and how moche trouble and disease, an armie and a capitaine is avoided of, and how moche commoditie shall bee given, to what so ever enterprise is to bee dooen. zanobi. we have overcome thenemie in the field, marched afterward upon his countrie, reason would, that spoiles be made, tounes sacked, prisoners taken, therefore i would knowe how the antiquitie in these thynges, governed them selves. [sidenote: the occasions why the warres made nowe adaies, doe impoverishe the conquerors as well as the conquered; the order that the romaines toke, concerning the spoile and the booties that their souldiours gotte; an order that the antiquitie tooke, concernyng their soldiours wages.] fabricio. beholde, i will satisfie you. i beleve you have considered, for that once alredie with some of you i have reasoned, howe these present warres, impoverishe as well those lordes that overcome, as those that leese: for that if the one leese his estate, the other leeseth his money, and his movables: the whiche in olde time was not, for that the conquerour of the warre, waxed ritche. this groweth of keepyng no compte in these daies of the spoiles, as in olde tyme thei did, but thei leave it to the discreacion of the souldiours. this manner maketh twoo moste great disorders: the one, that whiche i have tolde: the other that the souldiour becometh more covetous to spoyle, and lesse observeth the orders: and manie times it hath been seen, howe the covetousnesse of the praye, hath made those to leese, whome were victorious. therefore the romaines whiche were princes of armies, provided to the one and to the other of these inconvenienses, ordainyng that all the spoyle should apertaine to the publicke, and that the publicke after should bestowe it, as shoulde be thought good: and therfore thei had in tharmie the questours, whom were as we would say, the chamberlaines, to whose charge all the spoyle and booties were committed: whereof the consull was served to geve the ordinarie pay to the souldiours, to succour the wounded, and the sicke, and for the other businesse of the armie. the consull might well, and he used it often, to graunte a spoyle to soldiours: but this grauntyng, made no disorder: for that the armie beyng broken all the pray was put in the middest, and distributed by hedde, accordyng to the qualitee of everie man: the which maner thei constituted, to thintente, that the soldiours should attend to overcome, and not to robbe: and the romaine legions overcame the enemies, and folowed them not, for that thei never departed from their orders: onely there folowed them, the horsemenne with those that were light armed, and if there were any other souldiours then those of the legions, they likewyse pursued the chase. where if the spoyle shoulde have ben his that gotte it, it had not ben possible nor reasonable, to have kepte the legions steddie, and to withstonde manie perils; hereby grewe therefore, that the common weale inritched, and every consull carried with his triumphe into the treasurie, muche treasure, whiche all was of booties and spoiles. an other thing the antiquetie did upon good consideration, that of the wages, whiche they gave to every souldiour, the thirde parte they woulde shoulde be laied up nexte to him, whome carried the ansigne of their bande, whiche never gave it them againe, before the warre was ended: this thei did, beyng moved of twoo reasons, the first was to thintente, that the souldiour should thrive by his wages, because the greatest parte of them beyng yonge men, and carelesse, the more thei have, so muche the more without neede thei spende, the other cause was, for that knowyng, that their movabelles were nexte to the ansigne, thei should be constrained to have more care thereof, and with more obstinatenesse to defende it: and this made them stronge and to holde together: all which thynges is necessarie to observe, purposinge to reduce the exercise of armes unto the intier perfection therof. zanobi. i beleeve that it is not possible, that to an armie that marcheth from place to place, there fal not perrilous accidentes, where the industerie of the capitaine is needefull, and the worthinesse of the souldiours, mindyng to avoyde them. therefore i woulde be glad, that you remembring any, would shew them. [sidenote: captaines mai incurre the daunger of ambusshes twoo maner of wayes; how to avoide the perill of ambusshes; howe ambusshes have ben perceived; howe the capitaine of the enemies ought to be esteemed; where men be in greatest perill; the description of the countrey where an army muste marche, is most requiset for a capitaine to have; a most profitable thyng it is for a capitayne to be secrete in all his affaires; an advertisment concernyng the marchyng of an armie; the marching of an armie ought to be ruled by the stroke of the drumme; the condicion of the enemie ought to be considered.] fabricio. i shall contente you with a good will, beyng inespetially necessarie, intendyng to make of this exercise a perfecte science. the capitaines ought above all other thynges, whileste thei marche with an armie, to take heede of ambusshes, wherein they incurre daunger twoo waies, either marchynge thou entrest into them, or thoroughe crafte of the enemie thou arte trained in before thou arte aware. in the first case, mindyng to avoide suche perill, it is necessarie to sende afore double warde, whome may discover the countrey, and so muche the more dilligence ought to be used, the more that the countrey is apte for ambusshes, as be the woddie or hilly countries, for that alwaies thei be layd either in a wodde, or behind a hille: and as the ambusshe not forseene, doeth ruin thee, so forseyng the same, it cannot hurte thee. manie tymes birdes or muche duste have discovered the enemie: for that alwayes where the enemie cometh to finde thee, he shall make great duste, whiche shall signifie unto thee his comyng: so often tymes a capitaine seyng in the places where he ought to passe, doves to rise, or other of those birdes that flie in flockes, and to tourne aboute and not to light, hath knowen by the same the ambusshe of the enemies to be there, and sendynge before his men, and sertainely understandyng it, hath saved him selfe and hurte his enemie. concernyng the seconde case, to be trained in, (which these our men cal to be drawen to the shot) thou ought to take heede, not straight way to beleve those thinges, which are nothyng reasonable, that thei be as they seeme: as shoulde be, if the enemie should set afore thee a praie, thou oughtest to beleeve that in the same is the hooke, and that therin is hid the deceipte. if many enemies be driven away by a fewe of thine, if a fewe enemies assaulte manie of thine, if the enemies make a sodeine flight, and not standynge with reason, alwaies thou oughtest in suche cases to feare deceipte, and oughtest never to beleeve that the enemie knoweth not how to doe his businesse, but rather intendyng that he may begile thee the lesse, and mindyng to stand in lesse peril, the weaker that he is, and the lesse craftier that the enemie is, so muche the more thou oughtest to esteeme him: and thou muste in this case use twoo sundrie poinctes, for that thou oughtest to feare him in thy minde and with the order, but with wordes, and with other outewarde demonstracion, to seeme to dispyse him: because this laste way, maketh that the souldiours hope the more to have the victorie: the other maketh thee more warie, and lesse apte to be begyled. and thou hast to understand, that when men marche thoroughe the enemies countrey, they ar in muche more, and greater perils, then in fayghtyng the fielde: and therefore the capitaine in marchyng, ought to use double diligence: and the first thyng that he ought to doo, is to get described, and payncted oute all the countrie, thorough the which he must marche, so that he maye know the places, the number, the distances, the waies, the hilles, the rivers, the fennes, and all the quallites of them: and to cause this to bee knowen, it is convenient to have with him diversly, and in sundrie maners such men, as know the places, and to aske them with diligence, and to se whether their talke agree, and accordyng to the agreyng therof, to note: he oughte also to sende afore the horsemen, and with them prudente heddes, not so muche to discover the enemie, as to viewe the countrey, to se whether it agree with the description, and with the knowledge that they have of the same. also the guydes that are sente, ought to be kepte with hope of rewarde, and feare of paine. and above all thynges it ought to be provided, that the armie knowe not to what businesse he leadeth them: for that there is nothyng in the warre more profitable, then to keepe secret the thynges that is to be dooen: and to thintente a suddeine assaulte dooe not trouble thy soldiours, thou oughteste to see them to stande reddie with their weapons, because the thynges that ar provided for, offend lesse. manie for to avoyde the confusion of marchyng, have placed under the standerde, the carriages, and the unarmed, and have commaunded them to folow the same, to the intente that in marchyng needyng to staye, or to retire, they might dooe it more easely, which thyng as profitable, i alowe very muche. also in marchyng, advertismente ought to be had, that the one parte of the armie goe not a sunder from the other, or that thoroughe some goyng fast, and some softe, the armie become not slender: the whiche thynges, be occation of dissorder: therfore the heddes muste be placed in suche wise, that they may maintaine the pace even, causing to goe softe those that goe to fast, and to haste forward the other that goe to sloe, the whiche pace can not bee better ruled, then by the stroke of the drumme. the waies ought to be caused to be inlarged, so that alwaies at least a bande of iiii. hundred men may marche in order of battaile. the custome and the qualitie of the enemie ought to be considered, and whether that he wil assaulte thee either in the mornyng, or at none or in the evenynge, and whether he be more puisante with fotemen or horsemen, and accordyng as thou understandest, to ordeine and to provide for thy self. but let us come to some particular accidente. it hapneth sometime, that thou gettyng from the enemie, because thou judgest thy selfe inferiour, and therfore mindynge not to faight with him, and he comyng at thy backe, thou arivest at the banke of a river, passyng over the which, asketh time, so that the enemie is redie to overtake thee and to fayght with thee. some, which chaunsing to bee in suche perill, have inclosed their armie on the hinder parte with a diche, and fillyng the same full of towe, and firyng it, have then passed with the armie without beyng able to be letted of the enemie, he beyng by the same fire that was betwene them held backe. [sidenote: annone of carthage.] zanobi. i am harde of beliefe, that this fyre coulde stay theim, in especially because i remember that i have harde, howe annone of carthage, beyng besieged of enemies, inclosed him selfe on the same parte, with wodde, which he did set on fire where he purposed to make eruption. wherfore the enemies beyng not intentive on the same parte to looke to him, he made his armie to passe over the same flame, causing every man to holde his target before his face for to defend them from the fire, and smoke. [sidenote: nabide a spartayne; quintus luttatius pollecie to passe over a river; how to passe a ryver without a bridge; a polecie of cesar to passe a river, where his enemie beyng on the other side therof sought to lette hym.] fabricio. you saye well: but consider you howe i have saied, and howe annone did: for as muche as i saied that they made a diche, and filled it with towe, so that he, that woulde passe over the same, should be constrained to contende with the diche and with fire: annone made the fire, without the diche, and because he intended to passe over it, he made it not great, for that otherwise without the diche, it shoulde have letted him. dooe you not knowe, that nabide a spartan beyng besieged in sparta of the romaines, set fire on parte of his towne to let the way to the romaines, who alredie wer entred in? and by meane of the same flame not onely hindered their way, but drave them oute: but let us turne to our matter. quintus luttatius a romaine, havyng at his backe the cimbri, and commyng to a river, to thentente the enemie should give him time to passe over, semed to geve time to them to faight with him: and therfore he fained that he would lodge there, and caused trenches to be made, and certaine pavilions to be erected, and sent certayne horsemen into the countrie for forredge: so that the cimbrise beleevyng, that he incamped, they also incamped, and devided them selves into sundrie partes, to provide for victuals, wherof luttatius being aware, passed the river they beyng not able to let him. some for to passe a river havynge no bridge, have devided it, and one parte they have turned behynde their backes, and the other then becomynge shalower, with ease they have passed it: when the rivers be swift, purposyng to have their footemen to passe safely, they place their strongest horses on the higher side, that thei may sustain the water, and an other parte be lowe that may succour the men, if any of the river in passyng should be overcome with the water: they passe also rivers, that be verie deepe, with bridges, with botes, and with barrelles: and therfore it is good to have in a redinesse in an armie wherewith to be able to make all these thynges. it fortuneth sometime that in passyng a river, the enemie standynge agaynst thee on the other banke, doeth let thee: to minde to overcome this difficultie, i know not a better insample to folow, then the same of cesar, whome havynge his armie on the banke of a river in fraunce, and his passage beynge letted of vergintorige a frenche man, the whiche on the other side of the river had his men, marched many daies a longe the river, and the like did the enemie: wherfore cesar incamping in a woddie place, apte to hide men, he tooke out of every legion three cohortes, and made them to tarie in the same place, commaundynge theim that so soone as he was departed, they shoulde caste over a bridge, and should fortefie it, and he with his other menne folowed on the waye: wherfore vergintorige seyng the number of the legions, thinkyng that there was not left anie parte of theim behinde, folowed also his way: but cesar when he supposed that the bridge was made, tourned backewarde, and findynge all thinges in order, passed the river without difficultee. zanobi. have ye any rule to know the foordes? [sidenote: how to know the foordes of a river.] fabricio. yea, we have: alwaies the river, in that parte, whiche is betwene the water, that is stilleste, and the water that runneth fastest, there is least depth and it is a place more meete to be looked on, then any other where. for that alwaies in thesame place, the river is moste shallowest. the whiche thyng, bicause it hath been proved many tymes, is moste true. zanobi. if it chaunce that the river hath marde the foorde, so that the horses sincke, what reamedy have you? [sidenote: howe to escape oute of a straight where the same is besette with enemies; howe lutius minutius escaped out of a strayght wherin he was inclosed of his enemies; howe some capitaynes have suffered them selves to be compassed aboute of their enemies; a polecie of marcus antonius; a defence for the shotte of arrowes.] fabricio. the remedie is to make hardels of roddes whiche must be placed in the bottome of the river, and so to passe upon those: but let us folowe our reasonyng. if it happen that a capitain be led with his armie, betwen two hilles, and that he have not but twoo waies to save hymself, either that before, or that behinde, and those beyng beset of thenemies, he hath for remidie to doe the same, which some have doen heretofore: that which have made on their hinder parte a greate trenche, difficult to passe over, and semed to the enemie, to mynde to kepe him of, for to be able with al his power, without neding to feare behinde, to make force that waie, whiche before remaineth open. the whiche the enemies belevyng, have made theim selves stronge, towardes the open parte, and have forsaken the inclosed and he then castyng a bridge of woode over the trenche, for soche an effect prepared, bothe on thesame parte, with out any impedimente hath passed, and also delivered hymself out of the handes of the enemie. lucius minutus a consul of rome, was in liguria with an armie, and was of the enemies inclosed, betwene certaine hilles, whereby he could not go out: therefore he sente certaine souldiours of numidia on horsebacke, whiche he had in his armie (whom were evill armed, and upon little leane horses) towardes the places that were kepte of the enemies, whom at the first sight made the enemies, to order theim selves together, to defende the passage: but after that thei sawe those men ill apoincted, and accordyng to their facion evill horsed, regardyng theim little, enlarged the orders of their warde, wherof so sone as the numidians wer a ware, givyng the spurres to their horses, and runnyng violently upon theim, passed before thei could provide any remedy, whom beyng passed, destroied and spoiled the countrie after soche sorte, that thei constrained the enemies, to leave the passage free to the armie of lucius. some capitaine, whiche hath perceived hymself to be assaulted of a greate multitude of enemies, hath drawen together his men, and hath given to the enemie commoditie, to compasse hym all about, and then on thesame part, whiche he hath perceived to be moste weake, hath made force, and by thesame waie, hath caused to make waie, and saved hymself. marcus antonius retiryng before the armie of the parthians, perceived how the enemies every daie before sunne risyng, when he removed, assaulted him, and all the waie troubled hym: in so moch, that he determined not to departe the nexte daie, before none: so that the parthians beleving, that he would not remove that daie, retourned to their tentes. whereby marcus antonius might then all the reste of the daie, marche without any disquietnesse. this self same man for to avoide the arrowes of the parthians, commaunded his men, that when the parthians came towardes them, thei should knele, and that the second ranke of the battailes, should cover with their targaettes, the heddes of the firste, the thirde, the seconde, the fowerth the third, and so successively, that all the armie came, to be as it were under a pentehouse, and defended from the shotte of the enemies. this is as moche as is come into my remembraunce, to tell you, which maie happen unto an armie marchyng: therefore, if you remember not any thyng els, i will passe to an other parte. the sixthe booke zanobi. i beleve that it is good, seyng the reasonyng must be chaunged, that baptiste take his office, and i to resigne myne, and wee shall come in this case, to imitate the good capitaines (accordyng as i have nowe here understoode of the gentilman) who place the beste souldiours, before and behinde the armie, semyng unto theim necessarie to have before, soche as maie lustely beginne the faight, and soche as behinde maie lustely sustaine it. now seyng cosimus began this reasonyng prudently, baptiste prudently shall ende it. as for luigi and i, have in this middeste intertained it, and as every one of us hath taken his part willingly, so i beleve not, that baptiste wil refuse it. baptiste. i have let my self been governed hetherto, so i minde to doe still. therfore be contente sir, to folowe your reasonyng, and if we interrupte you with this practise of ours, have us excused. [sidenote: how the grekes incamped; howe the romaines incamped; the maner of the incamping of an armie; the lodging for the generall capitaine.] fabricio. you dooe me, as all readie i have saied, a moste greate pleasure; for this your interrupting me, taketh not awaie my fantasie, but rather refresheth me. but mindyng to followe our matter i saie, how that it is now tyme, that we lodge this our armie, for that you knowe every thyng desireth reste and saftie, bicause to reste, and not to reste safely, is no perfecte reste: i doubte moche, whether it hath not been desired of you, that i should firste have lodged them, after made theim to marche, and laste of all to faight, and we have doen the contrary: whereunto necessitie hath brought us, for that intendyng to shewe, how an armie in going, is reduced from the forme of marching, to thesame maner of faightyng, it was necessarie to have firste shewed, how thei ordered it to faight. but tournyng to our matter, i saie, that minding to have the campe sure, it is requisite that it be strong, and in good order: the industrie of the capitaine, maketh it in order, the situacion, or the arte, maketh it stronge. the grekes sought strong situacions, nor thei would never place theim selves, where had not been either cave, or bancke of a river, or multitude of trees, or other naturall fortificacion, that might defende theim: but the romaines not so moche incamped safe through the situacion, as through arte, nor thei would never incampe in place, where thei should not have been able to have raunged all their bandes of menne, accordyng to their discipline. hereby grewe, that the romaines might kepe alwaies one forme of incamping, for that thei would, that the situacion should bee ruled by them, not thei by the situacion: the which the grekes could not observe, for that beyng ruled by the situacion, and variyng the situacion and forme, it was conveniente, that also thei should varie the maner of incampyng, and the facion of their lodgynges. therefore the romaines, where the situacion lacked strength thei supplied thesame with arte, and with industrie. and for that i in this my declaracion, have willed to imitate the romaines, i will not departe from the maner of their incamping, yet not observyng altogether their order, but takyng thesame parte, whiche semeth unto me, to be mete for this present tyme. i have told you many tymes, how the romaines had in their consull armies, twoo legions of romaine men, whiche were aboute a leven thousande footemen, and sixe hundred horsemen, and moreover thei had an other leven thousande footemen, sente from their frendes in their aide: nor in their armie thei had never more souldiers that were straungers, then romaines, excepte horsemenne, whom thei cared not, though thei were more in nomber then theirs: and in all their doynges, thei did place their legions in the middeste, and the aiders, on the sides: the whiche maner, thei observed also in incampyng, as by your self you maie rede, in those aucthoures, that write of their actes: and therefore i purpose not to shewe you distinctly how thei incamped, but to tell you onely with what order, i at this presente would incampe my armie, whereby you shall then knowe, what parte i have taken out of the romaine maners. you knowe, that in stede of twoo romaine legions, i have taken twoo maine battailes of footemen, of sixe thousande footemen, and three hundred horsemen, profitable for a maine battaile, and into what battailes, into what weapons, into what names i have devided theim: you knowe howe in orderyng tharmie to marche, and to faight, i have not made mencion of other men, but onely have shewed, how that doublyng the men, thei neded not but to double the orders: but mindyng at this presente, to shew you the maner of incampyng, me thinketh good not to stande onely with twoo maine battailes, but to bryng together a juste armie, made like unto the romaines, of twoo maine battailes, and of as many more aidyng men: the whiche i make, to the intent that the forme of the incampyng, maie be the more perfect, by lodgyng a perfecte armie: whiche thyng in the other demonstracions, hath not semed unto me so necessarie. purposing then, to incampe a juste armie, of xxiiii. thousande footemen, and of twoo thousande good horsemenne, beeyng devided into fower maine battailes, twoo of our owne menne, and twoo of straungers, i would take this waie. the situacion beyng founde, where i would incampe, i would erecte the hed standarde, and aboute it, i would marke out a quadrant, whiche should have every side distante from it xxxvii. yardes and a half, of whiche every one of them should lye, towardes one of the fower regions of heaven, as easte, weste, southe, and northe: betwene the whiche space, i would that the capitaines lodgyng should be appoincted. and bicause i beleve that it is wisedom, to devide the armed from the unarmed, seyng that so, for the moste parte the romaines did, i would therefore seperate the menne, that were cumbered with any thing, from the uncombered. i would lodge all, or the greatest parte of the armed, on the side towardes the easte, and the unarmed, and the cumbred, on the weste side, makyng easte the hedde, and weste the backe of the campe, and southe, and northe should be the flanckes: and for to distinguishe the lodgynges of the armed, i would take this waie. i would drawe a line from the hedde standarde, and lead it towardes the easte, the space of ccccc.x. yardes and a half: i would after, make two other lines, that should place in the middeste the same, and should bee as longe as that, but distante eche of theim from it a leven yardes and a quarter: in the ende whereof, i would have the easte gate, and the space that is betwene the twoo uttermoste lines, should make a waie, that should go from the gate, to the capitaines lodging, whiche shall come to be xxii. yardes and a halfe broad, and cccclxxii. yardes and a halfe longe, for the xxxvii. yardes and a halfe, the lodgyng of the capitaine will take up: and this shall bee called the capitaine waie. then there shall be made an other waie, from the southe gate, to the northe gate, and shall passe by the hedde of the capitaine waie, and leave the capitaines lodgyng towardes theaste, whiche waie shalbe ix.c.xxxvii. yardes and a halfe long (for the length therof wilbe as moche as the breadth of all the lodgynges) and shall likewise be xxii. yardes and a half broad, and shalbe called the crosse waie. then so sone as the capitaines lodgyng, were appoincted out, and these twoo waies, there shall bee begun to be appoincted out, the lodginges of our own two main battailes, one of the whiche, i would lodge on the right hand of the capitaines waie, and the other, on the lefte: and therefore passing over the space, that the breadth of the crosse waie taketh, i would place xxxii. lodgynges, on the lefte side of the capitain waie, and xxxii. on the right side, leavyng betwene the xvi. and the xvii. lodgyng, a space of xxii. yardes and a halfe, the whiche should serve for a waie overthwart, whiche should runne overthwarte, throughout all the lodgynges of the maine battailes as in the distributyng of them shall bee seen. [sidenote: the lodgings for the men of armes, and their capitaine; note, which is breadth and whiche length in the square campe; the lodgings for the lighte horsemen, and their capitain; the lodgings for the footemen of twoo ordinary main battailes; the lodgings for the conestables; the nomber of footemen appoincted to every lodging; the lodynges for the chiefe capitaines of the maine battayles and for the treasurers, marshals and straungers; lodginges for the horsemen, of the extraordinarie mayne battailes; the lodgynges for the extraordinarie pykes and veliti; how the artillerie must be placed in the campe; lodgynges for the unarmed men, and the places that are apoineted for the impedimentes of the campe.] of these twoo orders of lodgynges in the beginnyng of the head, whiche shall come to joygne to the crosse waye, i would lodge the capitaine of the men of armes, in the xv. lodgynges, which on everie side foloweth next, their men of armes, where eche main battaile, havyng a cl. men of armes, it will come to ten men of armes for a lodgyng. the spaces of the capitaines lodgynges, should be in bredth xxx. and in length vii. yardes and a halfe. and note that when so ever i sai bredeth, it signifieth the space of the middest from southe to northe, and saiyng length, that whiche is from weste to easte. those of the men of armes, shoulde be xi. yardes and a quarter in length, and xxii. yardes and a halfe in bredeth. in the other xv. lodgynges, that on everie syde should folowe, the whiche should have their beginnyng on the other side of the overthwarte way, and whiche shall have the very same space, that those of the men of armes had, i woulde lodge the light horsemen: wherof beynge a hundred and fiftie, it will come to x. horsemen for a lodgyng, and in the xvi. that remaineth, i woulde lodge their capitaine, gevynge him the verie same space, that is geven to the capitain of the men of armes: and thus the lodginges of the horsemen of two maine battailes, will come to place in the middest the capitaine way, and geve rule to the lodginges of the footemen, as i shall declare. you have noted how i have lodged the ccc. horsemen of everie main battaile with their capitaines, in xxxii. lodgynges placed on the captaine waie, havynge begun from the crosse waie, and how from the xvi. to the xvii. there remaineth a space of xxii. yardes and a halfe, to make awaie overthwarte. mindyng therefore to lodge the xx. battailes, which the twoo ordinarie maine battailes have, i woulde place the lodgyng of everie twoo battailes, behinde the lodgynges of the horsemen, everie one of whiche, should have in length xi. yardes and a quarter, and in bredeth xxii. yardes and a half as those of the horsemens, and shoulde bee joigned on the hinder parte, that thei shoulde touche the one the other. and in every first lodgyng on everie side which cometh to lie on the crosse waie, i woulde lodge the counstable of a battaile, whiche should come to stand even with the lodgyng of the capitayne of the men of armes, and this lodgyng shall have onely of space for bredeth xv. yardes, and for length vii. yardes and a halfe. in the other xv. lodgynges, that on everie side followeth after these, even unto the overthwarte way, i would lodge on everie part a battaile of foote men, whiche beyng iiii. hundred and fiftie, there will come to a lodgyng xxx. the other xv. lodgynges, i woulde place continually on every side on those of the light horse men, with the verie same spaces, where i woulde lodge on everie part, an other battaile of fote men, and in the laste lodgyng, i would place on every parte the conestable of the battaile, whiche will come to joigne with the same of the capitaine of the lighte horsemen, with the space of vii. yardes and a halfe for length, and xv. for bredeth: and so these two firste orders of lodgynges, shal be halfe of horsemen, and halfe of footemen. and for that i woulde (as in the place therof i have tolde you) these horse menne shoulde be all profitable, and for this havynge no servauntes whiche in kepyng the horses, or in other necessarie thynges might helpe them, i woulde that these footemen, who lodge behynde the horse, should bee bounde to helpe to provide, and to keepe theim for their maisters: and for this to bee exempted from the other doynges of the campe. the whiche maner, was observed of the romanies. then leavyng after these lodgynges on everie parte, a space of xxii. yardes and a halfe, whiche shoulde make awaye, that shoulde be called the one, the firste waye on the righte hande, and the other the firste waie on the lefte hand, i woulde pitche on everie side an other order of xxxii. double lodgynges, whiche should tourne their hinder partes the one againste the other with the verie same spaces, as those that i have tolde you of, and devided after the sixtenth in the verie same maner for to make the overthwarte waie, where i would lodge on every side iiii. battailes of footemen, with their constables in bothe endes. then leavyng on every side an other space of xxii. yardes and a halfe, that shoulde make a waie, whiche shoulde be called of the one side, the seconde waie on the right hande, and on the other syde, the seconde way on the lefte hande, i would place an other order on everie side of xxxii. double lodgynges, with the verie same distance and devisions, where i would lodge on everie side, other iiii. battailes with their constables: and thus the horesemenne and the bandes of the twoo ordinarie maine battailes, should come to be lodged in three orders of lodgynges, on the one side of the capitaine waie, and in three other orders of lodgynges on the other side of the capitaine waie. the twoo aidyng maine battels (for that i cause them to be made of the verie same nation) i woulde lodge them on everie parte of these twoo ordinarie maine battailes, with the very same orders of double lodgynges, pitchyng first one order of lodgynges, where should lodge halfe the horsemen, and half the foote men, distance xxii. yardes and a halfe from the other, for to make a way whiche should be called the one, the thirde waie on the right hande, and the other the thirde waie on the lefte hande. and after, i woulde make on everie side, twoo other orders of lodgynges, in the verie same maner destinguesshed and ordeined, as those were of the ordinarie maine battelles, which shall make twoo other wayes, and they all should be called of the numbre, and of the hande, where thei should be placed: in suche wyse, that all this side of the armie, shoulde come to be lodged in xii. orders of double lodgynges, and in xiii. waies, reckenynge captaine waie, and crosse waie: i would there should remayne a space from the lodgynges to the trenche of lxxv. yardes rounde aboute: and if you recken al these spaces, you shall see that from the middest of the capitaines lodgyng to the easte gate, there is dx. yardes. now there remaineth twoo spaces, whereof one is from the capitaines lodgyng to the southe gate, the other is from thense to the northe gate: whiche come to be (either of them measurynge them from the poincte in the middest) cccc.lxxvi. yardes. then takyng out of everie one of these spaces xxxvii. yardes and a halfe, whiche the capitaynes lodgynge occupieth, and xxxiiii. yardes everie waie for a market place, and xxii. yardes and a halfe for way that devides everie one of the saied spaces in the middest, and lxxv. yardes, that is lefte on everie part betweene the lodgynges and the trenche, there remaineth on every side a space for lodginges of ccc. yardes broade, and lxxv. yardes longe, measurynge the length with the space that the captaines lodgynge taketh up. devidynge then in the middest the saied lengthe, there woulde be made on every hande of the capitaine xl. lodgynges xxxvii. yardes and a halfe longe, and xv. broade, whiche will come to be in all lxxx. lodgynges, wherin shall be lodged the heddes of the maine battailes, the treasurers, the marshalles of the fielde, and all those that shoulde have office in the armie, leavyng some voide for straungers that shoulde happen to come, and for those that shall serve for good will of the capitaine. on the parte behinde the capitaines lodgynge, i would have a way from southe to northe xxiii. yardes large, and shoulde be called the bed way, whiche shall come to be placed a longe by the lxxx. lodgynges aforesayd: for that this waie, and the crosseway, shall come to place in the middest betweene them bothe the capitaines lodgynge, and the lxxx. lodgynges that be on the sides therof. from this bed waie, and from over agaynst the captaines lodgyng, i would make an other waie, which shoulde goe from thens to the weste gate, lykewyse broade xxii. yardes and a halfe, and should aunswer in situation and in length to the captaine way, and should be called the market waie. these twoo waies beynge made, i woulde ordeine the market place, where the market shall bee kepte, whiche i woulde place on the head of the market way over against the capitaines lodgynge, and joigned to the head way, and i woulde have it to be quadrante, and woulde assigne lxxxx. yardes and three quarters to a square: and on the right hande and lefte hande, of the saied market place, i would make two orders of lodginges, where everie order shal have eight double lodginges, which shall take up in length, ix. yardes, and in bredeth xxii. yardes and a halfe, so that there shall come to be on every hande of the market place, xvi. lodgynges that shall place the same in the middest which shall be in al xxxii. wherin i woulde lodge those horsemen, which shoulde remaine to the aidyng mayne battailes: and when these should not suffise, i woulde assigne theim some of those lodginges that placeth between them the capitaines lodgynge, and in especially those, that lie towardes the trenche. there resteth now to lodge the pikes, and extraordinarie veliti, that everie main battaile hath, which you know accordynge to our order, how everie one hath besides the x. battailes m. extraordinarie pikes, and five hundreth veliti: so that the twoo cheefe maine battailes, have two thousande extraordinarie pikes, and a thousande extraordinarie veliti, and the ayders as many as those, so that yet there remaineth to be lodged, vi. m. menne, whome i woulde lodge all on the weste side, and a longe the trenche. then from the ende of the hed waye, towardes northe, leavyng the space of lxxv. yardes from them to the trenche, i woulde place an order of v. double lodgynges, whiche in all shoulde take up lvi. yardes in lengthe, and xxx. in bredeth: so that the bredeth devided, there will come to everie lodgyng xi. yardes and a quarter for lengthe, and for bredeth twoo and twentie yardes and a half. and because there shall be x. lodgynges, i will lodge three hundred men, apoinctyng to every lodging xxx. men: leavyng then a space of three and twentie yardes and a quarter, i woulde place in like wise, and with like spaces an other order of five double lodgynges, and againe an other, till there were five orders of five double lodgynges: which wil come to be fiftie lodgynges placed by right line on the northe side, every one of them distante from the trenche lxxv. yardes, which will lodge fifteene hundred men. tournyng after on the lefte hande towardes the weste gate, i woulde pitche in all the same tracte, whiche were from them to the saied gate, five other orders of double lodgynges, with the verie same spaces, and with the verie same maner: true it is, that from the one order to the other, there shall not be more then a xi. yardes and a quarter of space: wherin shall be lodged also fifteene hundred men: and thus from the northe gate to the weste, as the trenche turneth, in a hundred lodginges devided in x. rewes of five double lodgynges in a rowe, there will be lodged all the pikes and extraordinarie veliti of the cheefe maine battayles. and so from the west gate to the southe, as the trenche tourneth even in the verie same maner, in other ten rewes of ten lodgynges in a rewe, there shall be lodged the pikes, and extraordinarie veliti of the aidyng mayne battailes. their headdes or their counstables may take those lodgynges, that shal seeme unto them moste commodious, on the parte towardes the trenche. the artillerie, i woulde dispose throughoute all the campe, a longe the banke of the trenche: and in all the other space that shoulde remaine towardes weste, i woulde lodge all the unarmed, and place all the impedimentes of the campe. and it is to be understoode, that under this name of impedimentes (as you know) the antiquitee mente all the same trayne, and all those thynges, which are necessarie for an armie, besides the souldiours: as are carpenters, smithes, masons, ingeners, bombardiers, althoughe that those might be counted in the numbre of the armed, herdemen with their herdes of motons and beeves whiche for victuallyng of the armie, are requiset: and moreover maisters of all sciences, together with publicke carriages of the publicke munition, whiche pertaine as well to victuallyng, as to armynge. nor i would not distinguishe these lodginges perticularly, only i would marke out the waies which should not be occupied of them: then the other spaces, that betweene the waies shall remaine, whiche shall be fower, i woulde appoincte theim generally for all the saied impedimentes, that is one for the herdemen, the other for artificers and craftes men, the thirde for publicke carriages of victuals, the fowerth for the municion of armour and weapons. the waies whiche i woulde shoulde be lefte without ocupiyng them, shal be the market waie, the head waye, and more over a waie that shoulde be called the midde waye, whiche should goe from northe to southe, and should passe thoroughe the middest of the market waie, whiche from the weste parte, shoulde serve for the same purpose that the overthwarte way doeth on the east parte. and besides this, a waye whiche shall goe aboute on the hinder parte, alonge the lodgynges of the pikes and extraordinarie veliti, and all these wayes shall be twoo and tweentie vardes and a halfe broade. and the artilerie, i woulde place a longe the trenche of the campe, rounde aboute the same. baptiste. i confesse that i understand not, nor i beleeve that also to saye so, is any shame unto me, this beyng not my exercise: notwithstandyng, this order pleaseth me muche: onely i woulde that you shoulde declare me these doubtes: the one, whie you make the waie, and the spaces aboute so large. the other, that troubleth me more, is these spaces, whiche you apoincte oute for the lodgynges, howe they ought to be used. [sidenote: the campe ought to be all waies of one facion.] fabricio. you must note, that i make all the waies, xxii. yardes and a halfe broade, to the intente that thorowe them, maie go a battaile of men in araie, where if you remember wel, i tolde you how every bande of menne, taketh in breadth betwene xviii. and xxii. yardes of space to marche or stande in. nowe where the space that is betwene the trenche, and the lodgynges, is lxxv. yardes broade, thesame is moste necessarie, to the intent thei maie there order the battailes, and the artillerie, bothe to conducte by thesame the praies, and to have space to retire theim selves with newe trenches, and newe fortificacion if neede were: the lodginges also, stande better so farre from the diches, beyng the more out of daunger of fires, and other thynges, whiche the enemie, might throwe to hurte them. concernyng the seconde demaunde, my intent is not that every space, of me marked out, bee covered with a pavilion onely, but to be used, as tourneth commodious to soch as lodge there, either with more or with lesse tentes, so that thei go not out of the boundes of thesame. and for to marke out these lodginges, there ought to bee moste cunnyng menne, and moste excellente architectours, whom, so sone as the capitaine hath chosen the place, maie knowe how to give it the facion, and to distribute it, distinguishyng the waies, devidyng the lodgynges with coardes and staves, in soche practised wise, that straight waie, thei maie bee ordained, and devided: and to minde that there growe no confusion, it is conveniente to tourne the campe, alwaies one waie, to the intente that every manne maie knowe in what waie, in what space he hath to finde his lodgyng: and this ought to be observed in every tyme, in every place, and after soche maner, that it seme a movyng citee, the whiche where so ever it goweth, carrieth with it the verie same waies, the verie same habitacions, and the verie same aspectes, that it had at the firste: the whiche thing thei cannot observe, whom sekyng strong situacions, must chaunge forme, accordyng to the variacion of the grounde: but the romaines in the plaine, made stronge the place where thei incamped with trenches, and with rampires, bicause thei made a space about the campe, and before thesame a ditche, ordinary broad fower yardes and a halfe, and depe aboute twoo yardes and a quarter, the which spaces, thei increased, according as thei intended to tarie in a place, and accordyng as thei feared the enemie. i for my parte at this presente, would not make the listes, if i intende not to winter in a place: yet i would make the trenche and the bancke no lesse, then the foresaied, but greater, accordyng to necessitie. also, consideryng the artellerie, i would intrench upon every corner of the campe, a halfe circle of ground, from whens the artillerie might flancke, whom so ever should seke to come over the trenche. in this practise in knowyng how to ordain a campe, the souldiours ought also to be exercised, and to make with them the officers expert, that are appoincted to marke it out, and the souldiours readie to knowe their places: nor nothyng therein is difficulte, as in the place thereof shall bee declared: wherefore, i will goe forewarde at this tyme to the warde of the campe, bicause without distribucion of the watche, all the other pain that hath been taken, should be vain. baptiste. before you passe to the watche, i desire that you would declare unto me, when one would pitche his campe nere the enemie, what waie is used: for that i knowe not, how a man maie have tyme, to be able to ordaine it without perill. fabricio. you shall understande this, that no capitaine will lye nere the enemie, except he, that is desposed to faight the fielde, when so ever his adversarie will: and when a capitaine is so disposed, there is no perill, but ordinarie: for that the twoo partes of the armie, stande alwaies in a redinesse, to faight the battaile, and thother maketh the lodginges. the romaines in this case, gave this order of fortifiyng the campe, unto the triarii: and the prencipi, and the astati, stoode in armes. this thei did, for as moche as the triarii, beyng the last to faight, might have time inough, if the enemie came, to leave the woorke, and to take their weapons, and to get them into their places. therfore, accordyng unto the romaines maner, you ought to cause the campe to be made of those battailes, whiche you will set in the hinder parte of the armie, in the place of the triarii. but let us tourne to reason of the watche. [sidenote: theantiquitie used no scoutes; the watche and warde of the campe.] i thinke i have not founde, emongest the antiquitie, that for to warde the campe in the night, thei have kepte watche without the trenche, distaunte as thei use now a daies, whom thei call scoutes: the whiche i beleve thei did, thinkyng that the armie might easely bee deceived, through the difficultie, that is in seeyng them againe, for that thei might bee either corrupted, or oppressed of the enemie: so that to truste either in parte, or altogether on them, thei judged it perillous. and therefore, all the strength of the watche, was with in the trenche, whiche thei did withall diligence kepe, and with moste greate order, punished with death, whom so ever observed not thesame order: the whiche how it was of them ordained, i will tell you no other wise, leaste i should bee tedious unto you, beyng able by your self to see it, if as yet you have not seen it: i shall onely briefly tell that, whiche shall make for my purpose, i wold cause to stand ordinarely every night, the thirde parte of the armie armed, and of thesame, the fowerth parte alwaies on foote, whom i would make to bee destributed, throughout all the banckes, and throughout all the places of the armie, with double warde, placed in every quadrante of thesame: of whiche, parte should stande still, parte continually should go from the one corner of the campe, to the other: and this order, i would observe also in the daie, when i should have the enemie nere. [sidenote: dilligence ought to be used, to knowe who lieth oute of the campe, and who they be that cometh of newe; claudius nero; the justice that ought to be in a campe. the fauts that the antiquitie punisshed with death; where greate punishementes be, there oughte likewise to bee great rewardes; it was no marvel that the romaines became mightie princes; a meane to punishe and execute justice, without raising tumultes; manlius capitolinus; souldiours sworen to kepe the discipline of warre.] concernyng the givyng of the watche worde, and renuyng thesame every evening, and to doe the other thynges, whiche in like watches is used, bicause thei are thynges well inough knowen, i will speake no further of them: onely i shall remember one thyng, for that it is of greate importaunce, and whiche causeth great saulfgarde observyng it, and not observyng it, moche harme: the whiche is, that there be observed greate diligence, to knowe at night, who lodgeth not in the campe, and who commeth a newe: and this is an easie thing to see who lodgeth, with thesame order that wee have appoincted: for as moche as every lodgyng havyng the determined nomber of menne, it is an easie matter to see, if thei lacke, or if there be more menne: and when thei come to be absente without lisence, to punishe them as fugetives, and if there bee more, to understande what thei be, what they make there, and of their other condicions. this diligence maketh that the enemie cannot but with difficultie, practise with thy capitaines, and have knowlege of thy counsailes: which thing if of the romaines, had not been diligently observed, claudius nero could not, havyng aniball nere hym, depart from his campe, whiche he had in lucania, and to go and to retourne from marca, without aniball should have firste heard thereof some thyng. but it suffiseth not to make these orders good, excepte thei bee caused to bee observed, with a greate severtie: for that there is nothyng that would have more observacion, then is requisite in an armie: therefore the lawes for the maintenaunce of thesame, ought to be sharpe and harde, and the executour therof moste harde. the romaines punished with death him that lacked in the watch, he that forsoke the place that was given hym to faight in, he that caried any thynge, hidde out of the campe, if any manne should saie, that he had doen some worthy thing in the faight, and had not doen it, if any had fought without the commaundemente of the capitaine, if any had for feare, caste awaie his weapons: and when it happened, that a cohorte, or a whole legion, had committed like fault, bicause thei would not put to death all, thei yet tooke al their names, and did put them in a bagge, and then by lotte, thei drue oute the tenthe parte, and so those were put to death: the whiche punishemente, was in soche wise made, that though every man did not feele it every man notwithstandyng feared it: and bicause where be greate punishementes, there ought to be also rewardes, mindyng to have menne at one instant, to feare and to hope, thei had appoincted rewardes to every worthie acte: as he that faighting, saved the life of one of his citezeins, to hym that firste leapte upon the walle of the enemies toune, to hym that entered firste into the campe of the enemies, to hym that had in faightyng hurte, or slaine the enemie, he that had stroken him from his horse: and so every vertuous act, was of the consulles knowen and rewarded, and openly of every manne praised: and soche as obtained giftes, for any of these thynges, besides the glorie and fame, whiche thei got emongest the souldiours, after when thei returned into their countrie, with solemne pompe, and with greate demonstracion emong their frendes and kinsfolkes, thei shewed them. therefore it was no marveile, though thesame people gotte so moche dominion, having so moche observacion in punishemente, and rewarde towardes theim, whom either for their well doyng, or for their ill doyng, should deserve either praise or blame: of whiche thynges it were convenient, to observe the greater parte. nor i thinke not good to kepe secrete, one maner of punishmente of theim observed, whiche was, that so sone as the offendour, was before the tribune, or consulle convicted, he was of the same lightely stroken with a rodde: after the whiche strikyng, it was lawfull for the offendour to flie, and to all the souldiours to kill hym: so that straight waie, every man threwe at hym either stones, or dartes, or with other weapons, stroke hym in soche wise, that he went but little waie a live, and moste fewe escaped, and to those that so escaped, it was not lawfull for them to retourne home, but with so many incommodities, and soche greate shame and ignomie, that it should have ben moche better for him to have died. this maner is seen to be almoste observed of the suizzers, who make the condempned to be put to death openly, of thother souldiours, the whiche is well considered, and excellently dooen: for that intendyng, that one be not a defendour of an evill doer, the greateste reamedie that is founde, is to make hym punisher of thesame: bicause otherwise, with other respecte he favoureth hym: where when he hymself is made execucioner, with other desire, he desireth his punishemente, then when the execucion commeth to an other. therefore mindyng, not to have one favored in his faulte of the people, a greate remedie it is, to make that the people, maie have hym to judge. for the greater proofe of this, thinsample of manlius capitolinus might be brought, who being accused of the scenate, was defended of the people, so longe as thei were not judge, but becommyng arbitratours in his cause, thei condempned hym to death. this is then a waie to punishe, without raisyng tumultes, and to make justise to be kepte: and for as moche as to bridell armed menne, neither the feare of the lawes, nor of menne suffise not, the antiquitie joined thereunto the aucthoritie of god: and therefore with moste greate ceremonies, thei made their souldiours to sweare, to kepe the discipline of warre, so that doyng contrariewise, thei should not onely have to feare the lawes, and menne, but god: and thei used all diligence, to fill them with religion. [sidenote: women and idell games, were not suffered by the antiquitie, to bee in their armies.] baptiste. did the romaines permitte, that women might bee in their armies, or that there might be used these idell plaies, whiche thei use now a daies. fabricio. thei prohibited the one and thother, and this prohibicion was not moche difficulte: for that there were so many exercises, in the whiche thei kept every daie the souldiours, some whiles particularely, somewhiles generally occupied that thei had no time to thinke, either on venus, or on plaies, nor on any other thyng, whiche sedicious and unproffitable souldiours doe. baptiste. i am herein satisfied, but tell me, when the armie had to remove, what order kepte thei? [sidenote: ordre in the removing the armie by the soundes of a trumpet.] fabricio. the chief trumpet sounded three tymes, at the firste sound, thei toke up the tentes, and made the packes, at the seconde, thei laded the carriage, at the thirde, thei removed in thesame maner aforsaied, with the impedimentes after every parte of armed men, placyng the legions in the middeste: and therefore you ought to cause after thesame sorte, an extraordinarie maine battaile to remove: and after that, the particulare impedimentes therof, and with those, the fowerth part of the publike impedimentes, which should bee all those, that were lodged in one of those partes, whiche a little afore we declared: and therfore it is conveniente, to have every one of them, appointed to a maine battaile, to the entente that the armie removyng, every one might knowe his place in marchyng: and thus every maine battaile ought to goe awaie, with their owne impedimentes, and with the fowerth parte of the publike impedimentes, followyng after in soche maner, as wee shewed that the romaines marched. baptiste. in pitchyng the campe, had thei other respectes, then those you have tolde? [sidenote: respectes to be had for incampyng; how to choose a place to incampe; how to avoide diseases from the armie; the wonderfull commoditie of exercise; the provision of victualles that ought alwaies to bee in a readinesse in an armie.] fabricio. i tell you again, that the romaines when thei encamped, would be able to kepe the accustomed fashion of their maner, the whiche to observe, thei had no other respecte: but concernyng for other consideracions, thei had twoo principall, the one, to incampe theim selves in a wholesome place, the other, to place themselves, where thenemie could not besiege theim, nor take from them the waie to the water, or victualles. then for to avoide infirmitie, thei did flie from places fennie, or subjecte to hurtfull windes: whiche thei knewe not so well, by the qualitie of the situacion, as by the face of the inhabitours: for when thei sawe theim evill coloured, or swollen, or full of other infeccion, thei would not lodge there: concernyng thother respecte to provide not to be besieged, it is requisite to consider the nature of the place, where the friendes lye, and thenemies, and of this to make a conjecture, if thou maiest be besieged or no: and therefore it is meete, that the capitaine be moste experte, in the knowlege of situacions of countries, and have aboute him divers men, that have the verie same expertenes. thei avoide also diseases, and famishment, with causyng the armie to kepe no misrule, for that to purpose to maintain it in health, it is nedefull to provide, that the souldiours maie slepe under tentes, that thei maie lodge where bee trees, that make shadowe, where woodde is for to dresse their meate, that thei go not in the heate, and therefore thei muste bee drawen out of the campe, before daie in summer, and in winter, to take hede that thei marche not in the snowe, and in the froste, without havyng comoditie to make fire, and not to lack necessarie aparel, nor to drink naughtie water: those that fall sicke by chaunce, make them to bee cured of phisicions: bicause a capitain hath no reamedie, when he hath to faight with sicknesse, and with an enemie: but nothing is so profitable, to maintaine the armie in health, as is the exercise: and therfore the antiquitie every daie, made them to exercise: wherby is seen how muche exercise availeth: for that in the campe, it kepeth thee in health, and in the faight victorious. concernyng famishemente, it is necessarie to see, that the enemie hinder thee not of thy victualles, but to provide where thou maieste have it, and to see that thesame whiche thou haste, bee not loste: and therefore it is requisite, that thou have alwaies in provision with the armie, sufficiente victuall for a monethe, and then removyng into some strong place, thou muste take order with thy nexte frendes, that daily thei maie provide for thee, and above al thinges bestowe the victual with diligence, givyng every daie to every manne, a reasonable measure, and observe after soche sorte this poincte, that it disorder thee not: bicause all other thyng in the warre, maie with tyme be overcome, this onely with tyme overcometh thee: nor there shall never any enemie of thyne, who maie overcome thee with famishemente, that will seeke to overcome thee with iron. for that though the victory be not so honourable, yet it is more sure and more certaine: then, thesame armie cannot avoide famishemente, that is not an observer of justice, whiche licenciously consumeth what it liste: bicause the one disorder, maketh that the victualls commeth not unto you, the other, that soche victuall as commeth, is unprofitably consumed: therefore thantiquitie ordained, that thei should spende thesame, whiche thei gave, and in thesame tyme when thei appoincted: for that no souldiour did eate, but when the capitaine did eate: the whiche how moche it is observed of the armies nowe adaies, every manne knoweth, and worthely thei can not bee called menne of good order and sober, as the antiquitie, but lasivious and drunkardes. baptiste. you saied in the beginnyng of orderynge the campe, that you woulde not stande onely uppon twoo maine battailes, but woulde take fower, for to shewe how a juste armie incamped: therfore i would you shoulde tell me twoo thynges, the one, when i shoulde have more or lesse men, howe i ought to incampe them, the other, what numbre of souldiours should suffice you to faight against what so ever enemie that were. [sidenote: howe to lodge in the campe more or lesse menne, then the ordinarie; the nombre of men that an army ought to be made of, to bee able to faighte with the puisantest enemie that is; howe to cause men to do soche a thing as shold bee profitable for thee, and hurtfull to them selves; howe to overcome menne at unwares; how to tourne to commoditie the doynges of soche, as use to advertise thy enemie of thy proceadynges; how to order the campe, that the enemie shal not perceive whether the same bee deminished, or increased; a saiyng of metellus; marcus crassus; how to understand the secretes of thy enemie; a policie of marius, to understande howe he might truste the frenchmen; what some capitaines have doen when their countrie have been invaded of enemies; to make the enemie necligente in his doynges; silla asdruball; the policie of aniball, where by he escaped out of the danger of fabius maximus; a capitayne muste devise how to devide the force of his enemies; how to cause the enemie to have in suspect his most trusty men; aniball coriolanus; metellus against jugurte; a practis of the romayne oratours, to bryng aniball out of credit with antiochus; howe to cause the enemie to devide his power; howe titus didius staied his enemies that wer going to incounter a legion of men that were commyng in his ayde; howe some have caused the enemie to devide his force; a policie to winne the enemies countrie before he be aware; howe to reforme sedicion and discorde; the benefitte that the reputacion of the capitaine causeth, which is only gotten by vertue; the chiefe thyng that a capitayne ought to doe; when paie wanteth, punishment is not to be executed; the inconvenience of not punisshynge; cesar chaunsynge to fall, made the same to be supposed to signifi good lucke; religion taketh away fantasticall opinions; in what cases a capitaine ought not to faight with his enemie if he may otherwyse choose; a policie of fulvius wherby he got and spoyled his enemies campe; a policie to disorder the enemie; a policie to overcome the enemie; a policie; how to beguile the enemie; howe mennonus trained his enemies oute of stronge places to bee the better able to overcom them.] fabricio. to the first question i answer you, that if the armie be more or lesse, then fower or sixe thousande souldiours, the orders of lodgynges, may bee taken awaie or joined, so many as suffiseth: and with this way a man may goe in more, and in lesse, into infinite: notwithstandynge the romaines, when thei joigned together twoo consull armies, thei made twoo campes, and thei tourned the partes of the unarmed, thone against thother. concernyng the second question, i say unto you, that the romaines ordinary armie, was about xxiiii. m. souldiours: but when thei were driven to faight against the greatest power that might be, the moste that thei put together, wer l. m. with this number, thei did set against two hundred thousand frenchemen, whome assaulted them after the first warre, that thei had with the carthageners. with this verie same numbre, thei fought againste anniball. and you muste note, that the romaines, and the grekes, have made warre with fewe, fortefiyng themselves thorough order, and thorough arte: the west, and the easte, have made it with multitude: but the one of these nacions, doeth serve with naturall furie: as doe the men of the west partes, the other through the great obedience whiche those men have to their kyng. but in grece, and in italy, beyng no naturall furie, nor the naturall reverence towardes their king, it hath been necessary for them to learne the discipline of warre, the whiche is of so muche force, that it hath made that a fewe, hath been able to overcome the furie, and the naturall obstinatenesse of manie. therefore i saie, that mindyng to imitate the romaines, and the grekes, the number of l. m. souldiers ought not to bee passed, but rather to take lesse: because manie make confucion, nor suffer not the discipline to be observed, and the orders learned, and pirrus used to saie, that with xv. thousande men he woulde assaile the worlde: but let us pas to an other parte. we have made this our armie to winne a field and shewed the travailes, that in the same fight may happen: we have made it to marche, and declared of what impedimentes in marchyng it may be disturbed: and finally we have lodged it: where not only it ought to take a littell reste of the labours passed, but also to thinke howe the warre ought to be ended: for that in the lodgynges, is handeled many thynges, inespecially thy enemies as yet remainyng in the fielde, and in suspected townes, of whome it is good to be assured, and those that be enemies to overcome them: therfore it is necessarie to come to this demonstracion, and to passe this difficultie with the same glorie, as hitherto we have warred. therfore comynge to particular matters, i saie that if it shoulde happen, that thou wouldest have manie men, or many people to dooe a thyng, whiche were to thee profittable, and to theim greate hurte, as should be to breake downe the wall of their citie, or to sende into exile many of them, it is necessarie for thee, either to beguile them in such wise that everie one beleeve not that it toucheth him: so that succouryng not the one the other, thei may finde them selves al to be oppressed without remedie, or els unto all to commaunde the same, whiche they ought to dooe in one selfe daie, to the intente that every man belevyng to be alone, to whome the commaundement is made, maie thinke to obey and not to remedie it: and so withoute tumulte thy commaundement to be of everie man executed. if thou shouldest suspecte the fidelitie of anie people, and woulde assure thee, and overcome them at unawares, for to colour thy intente more easelie, thou canst not doe better, then to counsel with them of some purpose of thine, desiryng their aide, and to seeme to intende to make an other enterprise, and to have thy minde farre from thinkyng on them: the whiche will make, that thei shall not think on their owne defence, beleevyng not that thou purposest to hurte them, and thei shal geve thee commoditie, to be able easely to satisfie thy desire. when thou shouldest perceive, that there were in thine armie some, that used to advertise thy enemie of thy devises, thou canst not doe better, myndynge to take commoditie by their traiterous mindes, then to commen with them of those thynges, that thou wilte not doe, and those that thou wilt doe, to kepe secret, and to say to doubte of thynges, that thou doubtest not, and those of whiche thou doubtest, to hide: the which shall make thenemie to take some enterprise in hand, beleving to know thy devises, where by easly thou maiest beguile and opresse hym. if thou shouldest intende (as claudius nero did) to deminishe thy armie, sendynge helpe to some freende, and that the enemie shoulde not bee aware therof, it is necessarie not to deminishe the lodgynges, but to maintayne the signes, and the orders whole, makyng the verie same fires, and the verye same wardes throughout all the campe, as wer wont to be afore. lykewise if with thy armie there should joigne new men, and wouldest that the enemie shoulde not know that thou werte ingrosed, it is necessarie not to increase the lodgynges: because keepyng secrete doynges and devises, hath alwaies been moste profitable. wherfore metellus beyng with an armie in hispayne, to one, who asked him what he would doe the nexte daie, answered, that if his sherte knew therof, he would bourne it. marcus craussus, unto one, whome asked him, when the armie shoulde remove, saied beleevest thou to be alone not to here the trumpet? if thou shouldest desire to understande the secretes of thy enemie, and to know his orders, some have used to sende embassadours, and with theim in servauntes aparel, moste expertest men in warre: whom havynge taken occasion to se the enemies armie, and to consider his strengthe and weakenesse, it hath geven them oportunitie to overcome him. some have sente into exile one of their familiars, and by meanes of the same, hath knowen the devises of his adversarie. also like secrettes are understoode of the enemies when for this effecte there were taken any prisoners. marius whiche in the warre that he made with the cimbrie, for to know the faieth of those frenchmen, who then inhabited lombardie, and were in leage with the romaine people, sent them letters open, and sealed: and in the open he wrote, that they shoulde not open the sealed, but at a certaine time, and before the same time demaundyng them againe, and finding them opened, knew thereby that their faithe was not to be trusted. some capitaines, being invaded, have not desired to goe to meete the enemie, but have gone to assaulte his countrey, and constrained him to retorne to defende his owne home: the whiche manie times hath come wel to passe, for that those soldiours beginnyng to fil them selves with booties, and confidence to overcome, shall sone make the enemies souldiours to wexe afraide, when they supposynge theim selves conquerours, shal understand to become losers: so that to him that hath made this diversion, manie times it hath proved well. but onely it may be doen by him, whiche hath his countrey stronger then that of the enemies, because when it were otherwise, he should goe to leese. it hath been often a profitable thyng to a capitaine, that hath been besieged in his lodgynges by the enemie, to move an intreatie of agreemente, and to make truse with him for certaine daies: the which is wonte to make the enemies more necligente in all doynges: so that avaylynge thee of their necligence, thou maiest easely have occacion to get thee oute of handes. by this way silla delivered him selfe twise from the enemies: and with this verie same deceipte, asdruball in hispayne got oute of the force of claudious nero, whome had besieged him. it helpeth also to deliver a man out of the daunger of the enemie, to do some thyng beside the forsaied, that may keepe him at a baye: this is dooen in two maners, either to assaulte him with parte of thy power, so that he beyng attentive to the same faight, may geve commoditie to the reste of thy men to bee able to save theim selves, or to cause to rise some newe accidente, which for the strayngenesse of the thynge, maie make him to marvell, and for this occasion to stande doubtefull, and still: as you knowe howe anniball dyd, who beynge inclosed of fabius maximus, tied in the nighte small bavens kindeled beetweene the hornes of manie oxen, so that fabius astonied at the strangenesse of the same sight, thought not to lette him at all the passage. a capitayne oughte amonge all other of his affaires, with al subtiltie to devise to devide the force of the enemie, either with makyng him to suspecte his owne menne, in whome he trusteth, or to give him occasion, that he maye seperate his menne, and therby to be come more weake. the fyrste way is dooen with keepyng saulfe the thynges of some of those whiche he hath aboute him, as to save in the warre their menne and their possessions, renderynge theim their children, or other their necessaries withoute raunsome. you know that anniball havynge burned all the fieldes aboute rome, he made onely to bee reserved saulfe those of fabius maximus. you know how coriolanus comyng with an armie to rome, preserved the possessions of the nobilitie, and those of the comminaltie he bourned, and sacked. metellus havinge an armie againste jugurte, all the oratours, whiche of jugurte were sente him, were required of him, that they woulde geve him jugurte prisoner, and after to the verie same men writyng letters of the verie same matter, wrought in suche wise, that in shorte tyme jugurte havyng in suspecte all his counsellours, in diverse maners put them to death. anniball beynge fled to antiochus, the romaine oratours practised with him so familiarly, that antiochus beyng in suspecte of him, trusted not anie more after to his counselles. concernyng to devide the enemies men, there is no more certainer waie, then to cause their countrie to be assaulted to the intente that being constrained to goe to defende the same, they maie forsake the warre. this way fabius used havynge agaynst his armie the power of the frenchemen, of the tuscans, umbries and sannites. titus didius havyng a few men in respecte to those of the enemies, and lookynge for a legion from rome, and the enemies purposinge to goe to incounter it, to the intente that they should not goe caused to bee noised through all his armie, that he intended the nexte daie to faighte the field with the enemies: after he used means, that certaine of the prisoners, that he had taken afore, had occasion to runne awaie. who declaryng the order that the consull had taken to faighte the nexte daie, by reason wherof the enemies beyng afraide to deminishe their owne strength, went not to incounter the same legion, and by this way thei wer conducted safe. the which means serveth not to devide the force of the enemies, but to augmente a mans owne. some have used to devide the enemies force, by lettyng him to enter into their countrie, and in profe have let him take manie townes, to the intente that puttynge in the same garrisons, he might thereby deminishe his power, and by this waie havynge made him weake, have assaulted and overcomen him. some other mindyng to goe into one province, have made as though they woulde have invaded an other, and used so much diligence, that sodenly entryng into the same, where it was not doubted that they woulde enter, they have first wonne it, before the ennemie coulde have time to succour it: for that thy enemie beynge not sure, whether thou purposest to tourne backe, to the place fyrste of thee threatned, is constrained not to forsake the one place, to succour the other, and so many times he defendeth neither the one nor the other. it importeth besides the sayde thynges to a capitaine, if there growe sedicion or discorde amonge the souldiours, to knowe with arte howe to extynguishe it: the beste waie is to chastise the headdes of the faultes, but it muste be doen in such wise, that thou maiest first have oppressed them, before they be able to be aware: the way is if they be distante from thee, not onely to call the offenders, but together with theim all the other, to the entente that not beleevynge, that it is for any cause to punishe them, they become not contumelius, but geve commoditie to the execution of the punishemente: when thei be present, thou oughtest to make thy selfe stronge with those that be not in faulte, and by meane of their helpe to punishe the other. when there hapneth discorde amonge them, the beste waye is, to bryng them to the perill, the feare whereof is wonte alwaies to make them agree. but that, which above all other thynge kepeth the armie in unitee, is the reputacion of the capitaine, the whiche onely groweth of his vertue: because neither bloud, nor authoritie gave it ever without vertue. and the chiefe thyng, whiche of a capitain is looked for to be doen, is, to keepe his souldiours punisshed, and paied: for that when so ever the paie lacketh, it is conveniente that the punisshement lacke: because thou canst not correcte a souldiour, that robbeth, if thou doest not paie him, nor the same mindynge to live, cannot abstaine from robbynge: but if thou paiest him and punisshest him not, he beecometh in everie condicion insolente: for that thou becomest of small estimacion, where thou chaunsest not to bee able to maintaine the dignitie of thy degree, and not mainetainyng it, there foloweth of necessitee tumulte, and discorde, whiche is the ruine of an armie. olde capitaines had a troubell, of the which the presente be almoste free, whiche was to interprete to their purpose the sinister auguries: because if there fell a thunderbolte in an armie, if the sunne were darkened or the moone, if there came an erthequake, if the capitaine either in gettyng up, or in lightynge of his horse fell, it was of the souldiours interpreted sinisterously: and it ingendred in them so moche feare, that comynge to faight the fielde, easely they should have lost it: and therefore the aunciente capitaines so sone as a lyke accidente grewe, either they shewed the cause of the same, and redused it to a naturall cause, or they interpreted it to their purpose. cesar fallyng in africa, in comyng of the sea saied, africa i have taken thee. moreover manie have declared the cause of the obscuryng of the moone, and of earthquakes: which thing in our time cannot happen, as well because our men be not so supersticious, as also for that our religion taketh away altogether such opinions: al be it when they should chaunse, the orders of the antiquitie ought to be imitated. when either famishement, or other naturall necessitie, or humaine passion, hath broughte thy enemie to an utter desperation, and he driven of the same, cometh to faight with thee, thou oughtest to stande within thy campe, and as muche as lieth in thy power, to flie the faight. so the lacedemonians did against the masonians, so cesar did against afranio, and petreio. fulvius beyng consul, against the cimbrians, made his horsemen manie daies continually to assaulte the enemies, and considered how thei issued out of their campe for to folow them: wherfore he sette an ambusshe behinde the campe of the cimbrians, and made them to be assaulted of his horsmen, and the cimbrians issuyng oute of their campe for to follow them. fulvio gotte it, and sacked it. it hath ben of great utilitie to a capitaine, havyng his armie nere to the enemies armie, to sende his menne with the enemies ansignes to robbe, and to burne his owne countrey, whereby the enemies beleevynge those to bee menne, whiche are come in their aide, have also runne to helpe to make them the pray: and for this disorderyng them selves, hathe therby given oportunitie to the adversary to overcome them. this waie alexander of epirus used againste the illirans and leptenus of siracusa against the carthaginers and bothe to the one and to the other, the devise came to passe most happely. manie have overcome the enemie, gevyng him occasion to eate and to drinke oute of measure, fayning to have feared, and leaving their campes full of wyne and herdes of cattell, wherof the enemie beyng filled above all naturall use, have then assaulted him, and with his destruction overthrowen him. so tamirus did against cirus, and tiberius graccus agaynst the spaniardes. some have poysoned the wine, and other thynges to feede on, for to be able more easely to overcome them. i saied a littel afore how i founde not, that the antiquetie kepte in the night scoutes abroade, and supposed that they did it for to avoide the hurte, whiche might growe therby: because it is founde, that through no other meane then throughe the watche man, whiche was set in the daie to watche the enemie, hath been cause of the ruin of him, that set him there: for that manie times it hath hapned, that he beyng taken, hath been made perforce to tell theim the token, whereby they might call his felowes, who commyng to the token, have been slaine or taken. it helpeth to beguile the enemie sometime to varie a custome of thine, whereupon he having grounded him self, remaineth ruinated: as a capitaine did once, whome usinge to cause to be made signes to his men for comynge of the enemies in the night with fire, and in the daie with smoke, commaunded that withoute anie intermission, they shoulde make smoke and fire, and after commynge upon them the enemie, they should reste, whome beleevyng to come without beynge seen, perceivyng no signe to be made of beyng discovered, caused (through goeyng disordered) more easie the victorie to his adversarie. mennonus a rodian mindynge to drawe from stronge places the enemies armie, sente one under colour of a fugitive, the whiche affirmed, howe his armie was in discorde, and that the greater parte of them wente awaie: and for to make the thynge to be credited, he caused to make in sporte, certaine tumultes amonge the lodgynges: whereby the enemie thvnkyng thereby to be able to discomfaighte them, assaultynge theim, were overthrowen. [sidenote: the enemie ought not to be brought into extreme desperacion; how lucullus constrained certaine men that ran awaie from him to his enemies, to fayght whether they wold or not.] besides thesaied thynges, regarde ought to be had not to brynge the enemie into extreme desperacion: whereunto cesar had regarde, faightyng with the duchemen, who opened them the waie, seyng, howe thei beyng not able to flie, necessitie made them strong, and would rather take paine to followe theim, when thei fled, then the perill to overcome them, when thei defended them selves. lucullus seyng, how certaine macedonian horsemenne, whiche were with hym, went to the enemies parte, straight waie made to sounde to battaile, and commaunded, that the other men should folowe hym: whereby the enemies beleving, that lucullus would begin the faight, went to incounter the same macedonians, with soche violence, that thei were constrained to defende themselves: and so thei became against their willes, of fugetives, faighters. it importeth also to knowe, how to be assured of a toune, when thou doubteste of the fidelitie thereof, so sone as thou haste wonne the fielde, or before, the whiche certain old insamples maie teache thee. [sidenote: a policie wher by pompey got a towne; how publius valerius assured him self of a towne; a policie that alexander magnus used to be assured of all tracia, which philip kynge of spaine did practise to be asured of england when he wente to sainct quintens; examples for capitaines to winne the hartes of the people.] pompei doubtyng of the catinensians, praied them that thei would bee contente, to receive certaine sicke menne, that he had in his armie, and sendyng under the habite of sicke persones, most lustie menne, gotte the toune. publius valerius, fearyng the fidelitie of the epidannians, caused to come, as who saieth, a pardon to a churche without the toune, and when al the people wer gone for pardon, he shutte the gates, receivyng after none in, but those whom he trusted. alexander magnus, mindyng to goe into asia, and to assure himself of thracia, toke with him all the principall of thesame province, givyng theim provision, and he set over the common people of thracia, men of lowe degree, and so he made the princes contented with paiyng theim, and the people quiete, havyng no heddes that should disquiete them: but emong all the thynges, with the whiche the capitaines, winne the hartes of the people, be the insamples of chastitie and justice, as was thesame of scipio in spaine, when he rendered that yong woman, moste faire of personage to her father, and to her housebande: the whiche made him more, then with force of armes to winne spain. cesar having caused that woodde to bee paied for, whiche he had occupied for to make the listes, about his armie in fraunce, got so moche a name of justice, that he made easier the conquest of thesame province. i cannot tell what remaineth me, to speake more upon these accidentes, for that concerning this matter, there is not lefte any parte, that hath not been of us disputed. onely there lacketh to tell, of the maner of winnyng, and defendyng a toune: the whiche i am readie to doe willingly, if you be not now wearie. baptiste. your humanitie is so moche, that it maketh us to followe our desires, without beyng afraied to be reputed presumptuous, seyng that you liberally offer thesame, whiche we should have been ashamed, to have asked you: therefore, we saie unto you onely this, that to us you cannot dooe a greater, nor a more gratefuller benefite, then to finishe this reasonyng. but before that you passe to that other matter, declare us a doubte, whether it bee better to continewe the warre, as well in the winter, as thei use now adaies, or to make it onely in the sommer, and to goe home in the winter, as the antiquitie did. [sidenote: warre ought not to be made in winter; rough situacions, colde and watrie times, are enemies to the oder of warre; an overthrowe caused by winter.] fabricio. see, that if the prudence of the demaunder were not, there had remained behinde a speciall part, that deserveth consideracion. i answere you againe, that the antiquitie did all thynges better, and with more prudence then wee: and if wee in other things commit some erroure, in the affaires of warre, wee commit all errour. there is nothing more undiscrete, or more perrillous to a capitayne, then to make warre in the winter, and muche more perrill beareth he, that maketh it, then he that abideth it: the reason is this. all the industrie that is used in the discipline of warre, is used for to bee prepared to fighte a fielde with thy enemie, because this is the ende, whereunto a capitayne oughte to goo or endevour him selfe: for that the foughten field, geveth thee the warre wonne or loste: then he that knoweth best how to order it, and he that hath his army beste instructed, hath moste advauntage in this, and maye beste hope to overcome. on the other side, there is nothing more enemie to the orders, and then the rough situacions, or the colde watery time: for that the rough situacions, suffereth thee not to deffende thy bandes, according to thee discipline: the coulde and watery times, suffereth thee not to keepe thy men together, nor thou canst not bring them in good order to the enemy: but it is convenient for thee to lodge them a sunder of necessitie, and without order, being constrayned to obeye to castells, to boroughes, and to the villages, that maye receyve thee, in maner that all thy laboure of thee, used to instructe the army is vaine. nor marvayle you not though now a daies, they warre in the winter, because the armies being without discipline, know not the hurt that it dooth them, in lodging not together, for that it is no griefe to them not to be able to keepe those orders, and to observe that discipline, which they have not: yet they oughte to see howe much harme, the camping in the winter hath caused, and to remember, how the frenchmen in the yeare of oure lorde god, a thousande five hundred and three, were broken at gariliano of the winter, and not of the spaniardes: for as much as i have saide, he that assaulteth, hath more disadvauntage then he that defendeth: because the fowle weather hurteth him not a littell, being in the dominion of others and minding to make warre. for that he is constrayned, either to stande together with his men, and to sustaine the incommoditie of water and colde, or to avoide it to devide his power: but he that defendeth, may chuse the place as he listeth, and tary him with his freshe men: and he in a sodayne may set his men in araye, and goo to find a band of the enemies men, who cannot resiste the violence of them. so the frenchemen were discomfited, and so they shall alwayes be discomfited, which will assaulte in the winter an enemye, whoo hath in him prudence. then he that will that force, that orders, that discipline and vertue, in anye condition availe him not, let him make warre in the fielde in the winter: and because that the romaines woulde that all these thinges, in which they bestowed so much diligence, should availe them, fleedde no otherwise the winter, then the highe alpes, and difficulte places, and whatsoever other thing shoulde let them, for being able to shewe their arte and their vertue. so this suffiseth to your demaund, wherefore we wil come to intreate of the defending and besieging of tounes, and of their situacions and edifications. the seventh booke [sidenote: tounes and fortresses maie be strong twoo waies; the place that now a daies is moste sought to fortifie in; how a toune walle ought to bee made; the walle of a toune ought to bee high, and the diche within, and not without; the thickenes that a toune walle ought to bee of, and the distaunces betwene everie flancker, and of what breadth and deapth the dich ought to bee; how the ordinaunce is planted, for the defence of a toune; the nature of the batterie.] you oughte to knowe, how that tounes and fortresses, maie bee strong either by nature, or by industrie; by nature, those bee strong, whiche bee compassed aboute with rivers, or with fennes, as mantua is and ferrara, or whiche bee builded upon a rocke, or upon a stepe hille, as monaco, and sanleo: for that those that stande upon hilles, that be not moche difficulct to goe up, be now a daies, consideryng the artillerie and the caves, moste weake. and therfore moste often times in building, thei seke now a daies a plain, for to make it stronge with industrie. the firste industrie is, to make the walles crooked, and full of tournynges, and of receiptes: the whiche thyng maketh, that thenemie cannot come nere to it, bicause he maie be hurte, not onely on the front, but by flancke. if the walles be made high, thei bee to moche subjecte to the blowes of the artillerie: if thei be made lowe, thei bee moste easie to scale. if thou makeste the diches on the out side thereof, for to give difficultie to the ladders, if it happen that the enemie fill them up (whiche a great armie maie easely dooe) the wall remaineth taken of thenemie. therefore purposyng to provide to the one and thother foresaid inconveniences, i beleve (savyng alwaies better judgement) that the walle ought to be made highe, and the diche within, and not without. this is the moste strongeste waie of edificacion, that is made, for that it defendeth thee from the artillerie, and from ladders, and it giveth not facilitie to the enemie, to fill up the diche: then the walle ought to be high, of that heighth as shall bee thought beste, and no lesse thick, then two yardes and a quarter, for to make it more difficult to ruinate. moreover it ought to have the toures placed, with distances of cl. yardes betwen thone and thother: the diche within, ought to be at leaste twoo and twentie yardes and a halfe broad, and nine depe, and al the yearth that is digged out, for to make the diche, muste be throwen towardes the citee, and kepte up of a walle, that muste be raised from the bottome of the diche, and goe so high over the toune, that a man maie bee covered behinde thesame, the whiche thing shal make the depth of the diche the greater. in the bottome of the diche, within every hundred and l. yardes, there would be a slaughter house, which with the ordinaunce, maie hurte whom so ever should goe doune into thesame: the greate artillerie that defende the citee, are planted behinde the walle, that shutteth the diche, bicause for to defende the utter walle, being high, there cannot bee occupied commodiously, other then smalle or meane peeses. if the enemie come to scale, the heigth of the firste walle moste easely defendeth thee: if he come with ordinaunce, it is convenient for hym to batter the utter walle: but it beyng battered, for that the nature of the batterie is, to make the walle to fall, towardes the parte battered, the ruine of the walle commeth, finding no diche that receiveth and hideth it, to redouble the profunditie of thesame diche: after soche sorte, that to passe any further, it is not possible, findyng a ruine that with holdeth thee, a diche that letteth thee, and the enemies ordinaunce, that from the walle of the diche, moste safely killeth thee. onely there is this remedie, to fill the diche: the whiche is moste difficulte to dooe, as well bicause the capacitie thereof is greate, as also for the difficultie, that is in commyng nere it, the walle beeyng strong and concaved, betwene the whiche, by the reasons aforesaied, with difficultie maie be entered, havyng after to goe up a breache through a ruin, whiche giveth thee moste greate difficultie, so that i suppose a citee thus builded, to be altogether invinsible. baptiste. when there should bee made besides the diche within, a diche also without, should it not bee stronger? fabricio. it should be without doubt, but mindyng to make one diche onely, myne opinion is, that it standeth better within then without. baptiste. would you, that water should bee in the diches, or would you have them drie? [sidenote: a drie diche is moste sureste.] fabricio. the opinion of men herein bee divers, bicause the diches full of water, saveth thee from mines under grounde, the diches without water, maketh more difficulte the fillyng of them: but i havyng considered all, would make them without water, for that thei bee more sure: for diches with water, have been seen in the winter to bee frosen, and to make easie the winnyng of a citee, as it happened to mirandola, when pope julie besieged it: and for to save me from mines, i would make it so deepe, that he that would digge lower, should finde water. [sidenote: an advertisemente for the buildyng and defending of a toune or fortresse; small fortresses cannot bee defended; a toune of war or fortresse, ought not to have in them any retiring places; cesar borgia; the causes of the losse of the fortresse of furlie, that was thought invincible; howe the houses that are in a toune of war or fortresse ought to be builded.] the fortresses also, i would builde concernyng the diches and the walles in like maner, to the intent thei should have the like difficultie to be wonne. one thyng i will earnestly advise hym, that defendeth a citee: and that is, that he make no bulwarkes without distaunte from the walle of thesame: and an other to hym that buildeth the fortresse, and this is, that he make not any refuge place in them, in whiche he that is within, the firste walle beyng loste, maie retire: that whiche maketh me to give the firste counsaile is, that no manne ought to make any thyng, by meane wherof, he maie be driven without remedie to lese his firste reputacion, the whiche losyng, causeth to be estemed lesse his other doinges, and maketh afraied them, whom have taken upon theim his defence, and alwaies it shall chaunce him this, whiche i saie, when there are made bulwarkes out of the toune, that is to bee defended, bicause alwaies he shall leese theim, little thynges now a daies, beyng not able to bee defended, when thei be subject to the furie of ordinance, in soche wise that lesyng them, thei be beginning and cause of his ruine. when genua rebelled againste king leus of fraunce, it made certaine bulwarkes alofte on those hilles, whiche bee about it, the whiche so sone as thei were loste, whiche was sodainly, made also the citee to be loste. concernyng the second counsaile, i affirme nothyng to be to a fortresse more perilous, then to be in thesame refuge places, to be able to retire: bicause the hope that menne have thereby, maketh that thei leese the utter warde, when it is assaulted: and that loste, maketh to bee loste after, all the fortresse. for insample there is freshe in remembraunce, the losse of the fortresse of furly, when catherin the countesse defended it againste cesar borgia, sonne to pope alexander the vi. who had conducted thether the armie of the king of fraunce: thesame fortresse, was al full of places, to retire out of one into an other: for that there was firste the kepe, from the same to the fortresse, was a diche after soche sorte, that thei passed over it by a draw bridge: the fortresse was devided into three partes, and every parte was devided from the other with diches, and with water, and by bridges, thei passed from the one place to the other: wherefore the duke battered with his artillerie, one of the partes of the fortresse, and opened part of the walle: for whiche cause maister jhon casale, whiche was appoincted to that warde, thought not good to defende that breache, but abandoned it for to retire hymself into the other places: so that the dukes men having entered into that parte without incounter, in a sodaine thei gotte it all: for that the dukes menne became lordes of the bridges, whiche went from one place to an other. thei loste then this fortresse, whiche was thought invinsible, through two defaultes, the one for havyng so many retiryng places, the other, bicause every retiryng place, was not lorde of the bridge thereof. therefore, the naughtie builded fortresse, and the little wisedome of them that defended it, caused shame to the noble enterprise of the countesse, whoe had thought to have abidden an armie, whiche neither the kyng of naples, nor the duke of milaine would have abidden: and although his inforcementes had no good ende, yet notwithstandyng he gotte that honoure, whiche his valiauntnesse had deserved: the whiche was testified of many epigrammes, made in those daies in his praise. therefore, if i should have to builde a fortresse, i would make the walles strong, and the diches in the maner as we have reasoned, nor i would not make therein other, then houses to inhabite, and those i would make weake and lowe, after soche sorte that thei should not let him that should stande in the middest of the market place, the sight of all the walle, to the intente that the capitain might see with the iye, where he maie succour: and that every manne should understande, that the walle and the diche beyng lost, the fortresse were lost. and yet when i should make any retiryng places, i would make the bridges devided in soche wise, that every parte should be lorde of the bridges of his side, ordainyng, that thei should fall upon postes, in the middest of the diche. baptiste. you have saied that littel thynges now a daies can not bee defended, and it seemed unto me to have understoode the contrarie, that the lesser that a thyng wer, the better it might be defended. [sidenote: the fortifiyng of the entrance of a toune.] fabricio. you have not understoode well, because that place cannot be now a daies called stronge, wher he that defendeth it, hath not space to retire with new diches, and with new fortificacions, for that the force of the ordinance is so much, that he that trusteth uppon the warde of one wall and of one fortification only, is deceived: and because the bulwarkes (mindyng that they passe not their ordinarie measure, for that then they shoulde be townes and castels) be not made, in suche wise that men maie have space within them to retire, thei are loste straight waie. therefore it is wisdom to let alone those bulwarkes without, and to fortifie thenterance of the toune, and to kever the gates of the same with turnyngs after suche sort, that men cannot goe in nor oute of the gate by right line: and from the tournynges to the gate, to make a diche with a bridge. also they fortifie the gate, with a percullis, for to bee abell to put therin their menne, when they be issued out to faight, and hapnyng that the enemies pursue them, to avoide, that in the mingelynge together, they enter not in with them: and therfore these be used, the which the antiquitie called cattarratte, the whiche beyng let fall, exclude thenemies, and save the freendes, for that in suche a case, men can do no good neither by bridges nor by a gate, the one and the other beynge ocupied with prease of menne. baptiste. i have seene these perculleses that you speake of, made in almayne of littell quarters of woodde after the facion of a grate of iron, and these percullises of ouers, be made of plankes all massive: i woulde desire to understande whereof groweth this difference, and which be the strongest. [sidenote: battelments ought to be large and thicke and the flanckers large within.] fabricio. i tell you agayne, that the manners and orders of the warre, throughe oute all the worlde, in respecte to those of the antiquitie, be extinguesshed, and in italye they bee altogether loste, for if there bee a thing somewhat stronger then the ordinarye, it groweth of the insample of other countries. you mighte have understoode and these other may remember, with howe muche debilitie before, that king charles of fraunce in the yere of our salvation a thousande cccc. xciiii. had passed into italie, they made the batelmentes not halfe a yarde thicke, the loopes, and the flanckers were made with a litle opening without, and muche within, and with manye other faultes whiche not to be tedious i will let passe: for that easely from thinne battelments the defence is taken awaye, the flanckers builded in the same maner, moste easylye are opened: nowe of the frenchemen is learned to make the battelment large and thicke, and the flanckers to bee large on the parte within, and to drawe together in the middeste of the wall, and then agayn to waxe wider unto the uttermost parte without: this maketh that the ordinaunce hardlye can take away the defence. therfore the frenchmen have, manye other devises like these, the whiche because they have not beene seene of our men, they have not beene considered. among whiche, is this kinde of perculles made like unto a grate, the which is a greate deale better then oures: for that if you have for defence of a gate a massive parculles as oures, letting it fall, you shutte in your menne, and you can not though the same hurte the enemie, so that hee with axes, and with fire, maye breake it downe safely: but if it bee made like a grate, you maye, it being let downe, through those holes and through those open places, defende it with pikes, with crosbowes, and with all other kinde of weapons. baptiste. i have seene in italye an other use after the outelandishe fashion, and this is, to make the carriage of the artillery with the spokes of the wheele crooked towardes the axeltree. i woulde knowe why they make them so: seeming unto mee that they bee stronger when they are made straighte as those of oure wheeles. [sidenote: neither the ditche, wall tillage, nor any kinde of edificacion, ought to be within a mile of a toune of warre.] fabricio. never beleeve that the thinges that differ from the ordinarie wayes, be made by chaunce: and if you shoulde beleeve that they make them so, to shewe fayrer, you are deceaved: because where strength is necessarie, there is made no counte of fayrenesse: but all groweth, for that they be muche surer and muche stronger then ours. the reason is this: the carte when it is laden, either goeth even, or leaning upon the righte, or upon the lefte side: when it goeth even, the wheeles equally sustayne the wayght, the which being equallye devided betweene them, doth not burden much, but leaning, it commeth to have all the paise of the cariage on the backe of that wheele upon the which it leaneth. if the spokes of the same be straight they wil soone breake: for that the wheele leaning, the spokes come also to leane, and not to sustaine the paise by the straightnesse of them, and so when the carte goeth even, and when they are least burdened, they come to bee strongest: when the carte goeth awrye, and that they come to have moste paise, they bee weakest. even the contrarie happeneth to the crooked spokes of the frenche cartes, for that when the carte leaning upon one side poincteth uppon them, because they bee ordinary crooked, they come then to bee straight, and to be able to sustayne strongly al the payse, where when the carte goeth even, and that they bee crooked, they sustayne it halfe: but let us tourne to our citie and fortresse. the frenchemen use also for more safegarde of the gates of their townes, and for to bee able in sieges more easylye to convey and set oute men of them, besides the sayde thinges, an other devise, of which i have not seene yet in italye anye insample: and this is, where they rayse on the oute side from the ende of the drawe bridge twoo postes, and upon either of them they joigne a beame, in suche wise that the one halfe of them comes over the bridge, the other halfe with oute: then all the same parte that commeth withoute, they joygne together with small quarters of woodde, the whiche they set thicke from one beame to an other like unto a grate, and on the parte within, they fasten to the ende of either of the beames a chaine: then when they will shutte the bridge on the oute side, they slacke the chaines, and let downe all the same parte like unto a grate, the whiche comming downe, shuttethe the bridge, and when they will open it, they drawe the chaines, and the same commeth to rise up, and they maye raise it up so much that a man may passe under it, and not a horse, and so much that there maye passe horse and man, and shutte it againe at ones, for that it falleth and riseth as a window of a battelment. this devise is more sure than the parculles, because hardely it maye be of the enemye lette in such wise, that it fall not downe, falling not by a righte line as the parculles, which easely may be underpropped. therfore they which will make a citie oughte to cause to be ordained all the saide things: and moreover aboute the walle, there woulde not bee suffered any grounde to be tilled, within a myle thereof, nor any wall made, but shoulde be all champaine, where should be neither ditch nor banck, neither tree nor house, which might let the fighte, and make defence for the enemie that incampeth. [sidenote: noote; the provision that is meete to be made for the defence of a toune.] and noote, that a towne, whiche hathe the ditches withoute, with the banckes higher then the grounde, is moste weake: for as muche as they make defence to the enemye which assaulteth thee, and letteth him not hurte thee, because easely they may be opened, and geve place to his artillerye: but let us passe into the towne. i will not loose so muche time in shewing you howe that besides the foresayde thinges, it is requisite to have provision of victualles, and wherewith to fight, for that they be thinges that everye man underdeth, and without them, all other provision is vaine: and generally twoo thinges oughte to be done, to provide and to take the commoditie from the enemie that he availe not by the things of thy countrey: therfore the straw, the beastes, the graine, whiche thou canste not receive into house, ought to be destroied. also he that defendeth a towne, oughte to provide that nothing bee done tumultuouslye and disordinatelye, and to take suche order, that in all accidentes everye man maye knowe what he hath to doo. [sidenote: what incoragethe the enemy most that besiegeth a toune; what he that besiegeth and he that defendeth oughte to doo; advertisementes for a besieged towne; howe the romaines vitaled casalino besieged of aniball; a policie for the besieged.] the order that oughte to be taken is thus, that the women, the olde folkes, the children, and the impotent, be made to keepe within doores, that the towne maye be left free, to yong and lustie men, whom being armed, must be destributed for the defence of the same, appointing part of them to the wall, parte to the gates, parte to the principall places of the citie, for to remedie those inconveniences, that might growe within: an other parte must not be bound to any place, but be ready to succour all, neede requiring: and the thing beeing ordained thus, with difficultie tumulte can growe, whiche maye disorder thee. also i will that you note this, in the besieging and defending of a citie, that nothing geveth so muche hoope to the adversarye to be able to winne a towne, as when he knoweth that the same is not accustomed to see the enemie: for that many times for feare onely without other experience of force, cities have bene loste: therefore a man oughte, when he assaulteth a like citie, to make all his ostentacions terrible. on the other parte he that is assaulted, oughte to appoincte to the same parte, whiche the enemie fighteth againste, strong men and suche as opinion makethe not afraide, but weapons onely: for that if the first proofe turne vaine, it increaseth boldenesse to the besieged, and then the enemie is constrained to overcome them within, with vertue and reputacion. the instrumentes wherwith the antiquitie defended townes, where manie: as balistes, onagris, scorpions, arcubalistes, fustibals, slinges: and also those were manie with which thei gave assaultes. as arrieti, towers, musculi plutei, viney, falci, testudeni, in steede of which thynges be now a daies the ordinance, the whiche serve him that bessegeth, and him that defendeth: and therfore i will speake no forther of theim: but let us retourne to our reasonyng and let us come to particular offences. they ought to have care not to be taken by famine, and not to be overcome through assaultes: concernyng famin, it hath ben tolde, that it is requiset before the siege come, to be well provided of vitualles. but when a towne throughe longe siege, lacketh victuals, some times hath ben seen used certaine extraordinarie waies to be provided of their friendes, whome woulde save them: inespeciall if through the middest of the besieged citie there runne a river, as the romaines vittelled their castell called casalino besieged of anibal, whom being not able by the river to sende them other victual then nuttes, wherof castyng in the same great quantitie, the which carried of the river, without beyng abel to be letted, fedde longe time the casalinians. some besieged, for to shew unto the enemie, that they have graine more then inough and for to make him to dispaire, that he cannot, by famin overcome theim, have caste breade oute of the gates, or geven a bullocke graine to eate, and after have suffered the same to be taken, to the intent that kilde and founde full of graine, might shewe that aboundance, whiche they had not. on the other parte excellent capitaines have used sundrie waies to werie the enemie. [sidenote: a policie of fabius in besieging of a toune; a policie of dionisius in besiegynge of a toune.] fabius suffered them whome he besieged, to sowe their fieldes, to the entente that thei should lacke the same corne, whiche they sowed. dionisius beynge in campe at regio, fained to minde to make an agreement with them, and duryng the practise therof he caused him selfe to be provided of their victuales, and then when he had by this mean got from them their graine, he kepte them straight and famished them. [sidenote: howe alexander wanne leucadia.] alexander magnus mindyng to winne leucadia overcame all the castels aboute it, and by that means drivyng into the same citie a great multitude of their owne countrie men, famished them. [sidenote: the besieged ought to take heed of the first brunte; the remedie that townes men have, when the enemies ar entred into the towne; how to make the townes men yeelde.] concernynge the assaultes, there hath been tolde that chiefely thei ought to beware of the firste bronte, with whiche the romaines gotte often times manie townes, assaultyng them sodainly, and on every side: and thei called it _aggredi urbem corona_. as scipio did, when he wanne newe carthage in hispayne: the which brunte if of a towne it be withstoode, with difficultie after will bee overcome: and yet thoughe it should happen that the enemie were entred into the citie, by overcomynge the wall, yet the townes men have some remedie, so thei forsake it not: for as much as manie armies through entring into a toune, have ben repulced or slaine: the remedie is, that the townes men doe keepe them selves in highe places, and from the houses, and from the towers to faight with them: the whiche thynge, they that have entered into the citie, have devised to overcome in twoo manners: the one with openyng the gates of the citie, and to make the waie for the townes men, that thei might safely flie: the other with sendynge foorthe a proclamacion, that signifieth, that none shall be hurte but the armed, and to them that caste their weapons on the grounde, pardon shall be graunted: the whiche thynge hath made easie the victorie of manie cities. [sidenote: how townes or cities are easelie wonne; how duke valentine got the citie of urbine; the besieged ought to take heede of the deciptes and policies of the enemie; how domitio calvino wan a towne.] besides this, the citees are easie to bee wonne, if thou come upon them unawares: whiche is dooen beyng with thy armie farre of, after soche sort, that it be not beleved, either that thou wilte assaulte theim, or that thou canst dooe it, without commyng openly, bicause of the distance of the place: wherefore, if thou secretely and spedely assaulte theim, almoste alwaies it shall followe, that thou shalte gette the victorie. i reason unwillingly of the thynges succeded in our tyme, for that to me and to mine, it should be a burthen, and to reason of other, i cannot tel what to saie: notwithstanding, i cannot to this purpose but declare, the insample of cesar borgia, called duke valentine, who beyng at nocera with his menne, under colour of goyng to besiege camerino, tourned towardes the state of urbin, and gotte a state in a daie, and without any paine, the whiche an other with moche time and cost, should scante have gotten. it is conveniente also to those, that be besieged, to take heede of the deceiptes, and of the policies of the enemie, and therefore the besieged ought not to truste to any thyng, whiche thei see the enemie dooe continually, but let theim beleve alwaies, that it is under deceipte, and that he can to their hurte varie it. domitio calvino besiegyng a toune, used for a custome to compasse aboute every daie, with a good parte of his menne, the wall of the same: whereby the tounes menne, belevyng that he did it for exercise, slacked the ward: whereof domicius beyng aware, assaulted and overcame them. [sidenote: a policie to get a towne.] certaine capitaines understandyng, that there should come aide to the besieged, have apareled their souldiours, under the ansigne of those, that should come, and beyng let in, have gotte the toune. [sidenote: how simon of athens wan a towne; a policie to get a towne; how scipio gotte certaine castels in afrike.] simon of athens set fire in a night on a temple, whiche was out of the toune, wherefore, the tounes menne goyng to succour it, lefte the toune in praie to the enemie. some have slaine those, whiche from the besieged castle, have gone a foragyng, and have appareled their souldiours, with the apparell of the forragers, whom after have gotte the toune. the aunciente capitaines, have also used divers waies, to destroie the garison of the toune, whiche thei have sought to take. scipio beyng in africa, and desiring to gette certaine castles, in whiche were putte the garrisons of carthage, he made many tymes, as though he would assaulte theim, albeit, he fained after, not onely to abstaine, but to goe awaie from them for feare: the whiche aniball belevyng to bee true, for to pursue hym with greater force, and for to bee able more easely to oppresse him, drewe out all the garrisons of theim: the whiche scipio knowyng, sente massinissa his capitaine to overcome them. [sidenote: howe pirrus wan the chiefe citie of sclavonie; a policie to get a towne; how the beseiged are made to yelde; howe to get a towne by treason; a policie of aniball for the betraiyng of a castell; how the besieged maie be begiled; how formion overcame the calcidensians; what the besieged muste take heede of; liberalitie maketh enemies frendes; the diligence that the besieged ought to use in their watche and ward.] pirrus makyng warre in sclavonie, to the chiefe citee of the same countrie, where were brought many menne in garrison, fained to dispaire to bee able to winne it, and tourning to other places, made that the same for to succour them, emptied it self of the warde, and became easie to bee wonne. many have corrupted the water, and have tourned the rivers an other waie to take tounes. also the besieged, are easely made to yelde them selves, makyng theim afraied, with signifiyng unto them a victorie gotten, or with new aides, whiche come in their disfavour. the old capitaines have sought to gette tounes by treason, corruptyng some within, but thei have used divers meanes. sum have sente a manne of theirs, whiche under the name of a fugetive, might take aucthoritie and truste with the enemies, who after have used it to their profite. some by this meanes, have understode the maner of the watche, and by meanes of the same knowledge, have taken the toune. some with a carte, or with beames under some colour, have letted the gate, that it could not bee shutte, and with this waie, made the entrie easie to the enemie. aniball perswaded one, to give him a castle of the romaines, and that he should fain to go a huntyng in the night, makyng as though he could not goe by daie, for feare of the enemies, and tournyng after with the venison, should put in with hym certaine of his menne, and so killyng the watchmen, should give hym the gate. also the besieged are beguiled, with drawyng them out of the toune, and goyng awaie from them, faining to flie when thei assault thee. and many (emong whom was anibal) have for no other intente, let their campe to be taken, but to have occasion to get betwene theim and home, and to take their toune. also, thei are beguiled with fainyng to departe from them, as formion of athens did, who havyng spoiled the countrie of the calcidensians, received after their ambassadours, fillyng their citee with faire promises, and hope of safetie, under the which as simple menne, thei were a little after of formione oppressed. the besieged ought to beware of the men, whiche thei have in suspecte emong them: but some times thei are wont, as well to assure them selves with deserte, as with punishemente. marcellus knoweyng how lucius bancius a nolane, was tourned to favour aniball so moche humanitie and liberalitie, he used towardes him, that of an enemie, he made him moste frendely. the besieged ought to use more diligence in the warde, when the enemie is gone from theim, then when he is at hande. and thei ought to warde those places, whiche thei thinke, that maie bee hurt least: for that many tounes have been loste, when thenemie assaulteth it on thesame part, where thei beleve not possible to be assaulted. and this deceipt groweth of twoo causes, either for the place being strong, and to beleve, that it is invinsible, or through craft beyng used of the enemie, in assaltyng theim on one side with fained alaroms, and on the other without noise, and with verie assaltes in deede: and therefore the besieged, ought to have greate advertisment, and above all thynges at all times, and in especially in the night to make good watche to bee kepte on the walles, and not onely to appoincte menne, but dogges, and soche fiearse mastives, and lively, the whiche by their sente maie descrie the enemie, and with barkyng discover him: and not dogges onely, but geese have ben seen to have saved a citee, as it happened to roome, when the frenchemen besieged the capitoll. [sidenote: an order of alcibiades for the dew keping of watch and warde.] alcibiades for to see, whether the warde watched, athense beeyng besieged of the spartaines, ordained that when in the night, he should lifte up a light, all the ward should lift up likewise, constitutyng punishmente to hym that observed it not. [sidenote: the secrete conveighyng of letters; the defence against a breach; how the antiquitie got tounes by muining under grounde.] isicrates of athens killed a watchman, which slept, saiyng that he lefte him as he found him. those that have been besieged, have used divers meanes, to sende advise to their frendes: and mindyng not to send their message by mouth, thei have written letters in cifers, and hidden them in sundrie wise: the cifers be according, as pleaseth him that ordaineth them, the maner of hidyng them is divers. some have written within the scaberde of a sweard: other have put the letters in an unbaked lofe, and after have baked the same, and given it for meate to hym that caried theim. certaine have hidden them, in the secreteste place of their bodies: other have hidden them in the collor of a dogge, that is familiare with hym, whiche carrieth theim: some have written in a letter ordinarie thinges, and after betwene thone line and thother, have also written with water, that wetyng it or warming it after, the letters should appere. this waie hath been moste politikely observed in our time: where some myndyng to signifie to their freendes inhabityng within a towne, thinges to be kept secret, and mindynge not to truste any person, have sente common matters written, accordyng to the common use and enterlined it, as i have saied above, and the same have made to be hanged on the gates of the temples, the whiche by countersignes beyng knowen of those, unto whome they have been sente, were taken of and redde: the whiche way is moste politique, bicause he that carrieth them maie bee beguiled, and there shall happen hym no perill. there be moste infinite other waies, whiche every manne maie by himself rede and finde: but with more facilitie, the besieged maie bee written unto, then the besieged to their frendes without, for that soche letters cannot be sent, but by one, under colour of a fugetive, that commeth out of a toune: the whiche is a daungerous and perilous thing, when thenemie is any whit craftie: but those that sende in, he that is sente, maie under many colours, goe into the campe that besiegeth, and from thens takyng conveniente occasion, maie leape into the toune: but lette us come to speake of the present winnyng of tounes. i saie that if it happen, that thou bee besieged in thy citee, whiche is not ordained with diches within, as a little before we shewed, to mynde that thenemie shall not enter through the breach of the walle, whiche the artillerie maketh: bicause there is no remedie to lette thesame from makyng of a breache, it is therefore necessarie for thee, whileste the ordinance battereth, to caste a diche within the wall which is battered, and that it be in bredth at leaste twoo and twentie yardes and a halfe, and to throwe all thesame that is digged towardes the toun, whiche maie make banke, and the diche more deper: and it is convenient for thee, to sollicitate this worke in soche wise, that when the walle falleth, the diche maie be digged at least, fower or five yardes in depth: the whiche diche is necessarie, while it is a digging, to shutte it on every side with a slaughter house: and when the wall is so strong, that it giveth thee time to make the diche, and the slaughter houses, that battered parte, commeth to be moche stronger, then the rest of the citee: for that soche fortificacion, cometh to have the forme, of the diches which we devised within: but when the walle is weake, and that it giveth thee not tyme, to make like fortificacions, then strengthe and valiauntnesse muste bee shewed, settyng againste the enemies armed menne, with all thy force. this maner of fortificacion was observed of the pisans, when you besieged theim, and thei might doe it, bicause thei had strong walles, whiche gave them time, the yearth beyng softe and moste meete to raise up banckes, and to make fortificacions: where if thei had lacked this commoditie, thei should have loste the toune. therefore it shall bee alwaies prudently doen, to provide afore hand, makyng diches within the citee, and through out all the circuite thereof, as a little before wee devised: for that in this case, the enemie maie safely be taried for at laisure, the fortificacions beyng redy made. the antiquitie many tymes gotte tounes, with muinyng under ground in twoo maners, either thei made a waie under grounde secretely, whiche risse in the toune, and by thesame entered, in whiche maner the romaines toke the citee of veienti, or with the muinyng, thei overthrewe a walle, and made it ruinate: this laste waie is now a daies moste stronge, and maketh, that the citees placed high, be most weake, bicause thei maie better bee under muined: and puttyng after in a cave of this gunne pouder, whiche in a momente kindelyng, not onely ruinateth a wall, but it openeth the hilles, and utterly dissolveth the strength of them. [sidenote: the reamedie against caves or undermuinynges; what care the besieged ought to have; what maketh a citee or campe difficulte to bee defended; by what meanes thei that besiege ar made afraied; honour got by constancie.] the remedie for this, is to builde in the plain, and to make the diche that compasseth thy citee, so deepe, that the enemie maie not digge lower then thesame, where he shall not finde water, whiche onely is enemie to the caves: for if thou be in a toune, which thou defendest on a high ground, thou canst not remedie it otherwise, then to make within thy walles many deepe welles, the whiche be as drouners to thesame caves, that the enemie is able to ordain against thee. an other remedie there is, to make a cave againste it, when thou shouldeste bee aware where he muineth, the whiche waie easely hindereth hym, but difficultly it is foreseen, beyng besieged of a craftie enemie. he that is besieged, ought above al thinges to have care, not to bee oppressed in the tyme of reste: as is after a battaile fought, after the watche made, whiche is in the mornyng at breake of daie, and in the evenyng betwen daie and night, and above al, at meale times: in whiche tyme many tounes have been wonne, and armies have been of them within ruinated: therefore it is requisite with diligence on all partes, to stande alwaies garded, and in a good part armed. i will not lacke to tell you, how that, whiche maketh a citee or a campe difficult to be defended, is to be driven to kepe sundred all the force, that thou haste in theim, for that the enemie beyng able to assaulte thee at his pleasure altogether, it is conveniente for thee on every side, to garde every place, and so he assaulteth thee with all his force, and thou with parte of thine defendest thee. also, the besieged maie bee overcome altogether, he without cannot bee, but repulced: wherefore many, whom have been besieged, either in a campe, or in a toune, although thei have been inferiour of power, have issued out with their men at a sodaine, and have overcome the enemie. this marcellus of nola did: this did cesar in fraunce, where his campe beeyng assaulted of a moste great nomber of frenchmen, and seeyng hymself not able to defende it, beyng constrained to devide his force into many partes, and not to bee able standyng within the listes, with violence to repulce thenemie: he opened the campe on thone side, and turning towardes thesame parte with all his power, made so moche violence against them, and with moche valiantnes, that he vanquisshed and overcame them. the constancie also of the besieged, causeth many tymes displeasure, and maketh afraied them that doe besiege. pompei beyng against cesar, and cesars armie beeyng in greate distresse through famine, there was brought of his bredde to pompei, whom seyng it made of grasse, commaunded, that it should not bee shewed unto his armie, least it shoulde make them afraide, seyng what enemies they had against theim. nothyng caused so muche honour to the romaines in the warre of aniball, as their constancie: for as muche as in what so ever envious, and adverse fortune thei were troubled, they never demaunded peace, thei never made anie signe of feare, but rather when aniball was aboute rome, thei solde those fieldes, where he had pitched his campe, dearer then ordinarie in other times shoulde have been solde: and they stoode in so much obstinacie in their enterprises, that for to defende rome, thei would not raise their campe from capua, the whiche in the verie same time that roome was besieged, the romaines did besiege. i knowe that i have tolde you of manie thynges, the whiche by your selfe you might have understoode, and considered, notwithstandyng i have doen it (as to daie also i have tolde you) for to be abell to shewe you better by meane therof, the qualitie of this armie, and also for to satisfie those, if there be anie, whome have not had the same commoditie to understand them as you. nor me thinkes that there resteth other to tell you, then certaine generall rules, the whiche you shal have moste familiar, which be these. [sidenote: generall rules of warre.] the same that helpeth the enemie, hurteth thee: and the same that helpeth thee, hurteth the enemie. he that shall be in the warre moste vigilant to observe the devises of the enemie, and shall take moste payne to exercise his armie, shall incurre least perilles and maie hope moste of the victorie. never conducte thy men to faight the field, if first them hast not confirmed their mindes and knowest them to be without feare, and to be in good order: for thou oughteste never to enterprise any dangerous thyng with thy souldiours, but when thou seest, that they hope to overcome. it is better to conquere the enemie with faminne, then with yron: in the victorie of which, fortune maie doe much more then valiantnesse. no purpose is better then that, whiche is hidde from the enemie untill thou have executed it. to know in the warre how to understande occasion, and to take it, helpeth more then anie other thynge. nature breedeth few stronge menne, the industrie and the exercise maketh manie. discipline maie doe more in warre, then furie. when anie departe from the enemies side for to come to serve thee, when thei be faithfull, thei shalbe unto thee alwaies great gaines: for that the power of thadversaries are more deminisshed with the losse of them, that runne awaie, then of those that be slaine, although that the name of a fugetive be to new frendes suspected, to olde odius. better it is in pitchyng the fielde, to reserve behynde the first front aide inoughe, then to make the fronte bigger to disperse the souldiours. he is difficultely overcome, whiche can know his owne power and the same of the enemie. the valiantenesse of the souldiours availeth more then the multitude. some times the situacion helpeth more then the valiantenesse. new and sudden thynges, make armies afrayde. slowe and accustomed thinges, be littell regarded of them. therfore make thy armie to practise and to know with small faightes a new enemie, before thou come to faight the fielde with him. he that with disorder foloweth the enemie after that he is broken, will doe no other, then to become of a conquerour a loser. he that prepareth not necessarie victualles to live upon, is overcome without yron. he that trusteth more in horsemen then in footemen, more in footemen then in horsemen, must accommodate him selfe with the situacion. when thou wilte see if in the daie there be comen anie spie into the campe, cause everie man to goe to his lodgynge. chaunge purpose, when thou perceivest that the enemie hath forseene it. [sidenote: how to consulte.] consulte with many of those thinges, which thou oughtest to dooe: the same that thou wilt after dooe, conferre with fewe. souldiours when thei abide at home, are mainteined with feare and punishemente, after when thei ar led to the warre with hope and with rewarde. good capitaines come never to faight the fielde, excepte necessitie constraine theim, and occasion call them. cause that thenemies know not, how thou wilte order thy armie to faight, and in what so ever maner that thou ordainest it, make that the firste bande may be received of the seconde and of the thirde. in the faight never occupie a battell to any other thyng, then to the same, for whiche thou haste apoineted it, if thou wilt make no disorder. the sodene accidentes, with difficultie are reamedied: those that are thought upon, with facilitie. [sidenote: what thynges are the strength of the warre.] men, yron, money, and bread, be the strengthe of the warre, but of these fower, the first twoo be moste necessarie: because men and yron, finde money and breade: but breade and money fynde not men and yron. the unarmed riche man, is a bootie to the poore souldiour. accustome thy souldiours to dispise delicate livyng and lacivius aparell. this is as muche as hapneth me generally to remember you, and i know that there might have ben saied manie other thynges in all this my reasonynge: as should be, howe and in howe manie kinde of waies the antiquitie ordered their bandes, how thei appareled them, and how in manie other thynges they exercised them, and to have joygned hereunto manie other particulars, the whiche i have not judged necessarie to shew, as wel for that you your self may se them, as also for that my intente hath not been to shew juste how the olde servis of warre was apoincted, but howe in these daies a servis of warre might be ordained, whiche should have more vertue then the same that is used. wherfore i have not thought good of the auncient thynges to reason other, then that, which i have judged to suche introduction necessarie. i know also that i might have delated more upon the service on horsebacke, and after have reasoned of the warre on the sea: for as muche as he that destinguissheth the servis of warre, saieth, how there is an armie on the sea, and of the lande, on foote, and on horsebacke. of that on the sea, i will not presume to speake, for that i have no knowledge therof: but i will let the genoues, and the venecians speake therof, whome with like studies have heretofore doen great thinges. also of horses, i wil speake no other, then as afore i have saied, this parte beynge (as i have declared) least corrupted. besides this, the footemen being wel ordained, which is the puissance of the armie, good horses of necessitie will come to be made. [sidenote: provisions that maie bee made to fill a realme full of good horse; the knowledge that a capitaine oughte to have.] onely i counsel him that would ordayne the exercise of armes in his owne countrey, and desireth to fill the same with good horses, that he make two provisions: the one is, that he destribute mares of a good race throughe his dominion, and accustome his menne to make choise of coltes, as you in this countrie make of calves and mules: the other is, that to thentente the excepted might finde a byer, i woulde prohibet that no man should kepe a mule excepte he woulde keepe a horse: so that he that woulde kepe but one beaste to ride on, shoulde be constrained to keepe a horse: and moreover that no man should weare fine cloathe except he which doeth keepe a horse: this order i under stande hath beene devised of certaine princes in our time, whome in short space have therby, brought into their countrey an excellente numbre of good horses. aboute the other thynges, as much as might be looked for concernynge horse, i remit to as much as i have saied to daie, and to that whiche they use. peradventure also you woulde desire to understand what condicions a capitaine ought to have: wherof i shal satisfie you moste breeflie: for that i cannot tell how to chose anie other man then the same, who shoulde know howe to doe all those thynges whiche this daie hath ben reasoned of by us: the which also should not suffise, when he should not knowe howe to devise of him selfe: for that no man without invencion, was ever excellent in anie science: and if invencion causeth honour in other thynges, in this above all, it maketh a man honorable: for everie invention is seen, although it were but simple, to be of writers celebrated: as it is seen, where alexander magnus is praised, who for to remove his campe moste secretely, gave not warnyng with the trumpette, but with a hatte upon a launce. and was praised also for havyng taken order that his souldiours in buckelynge with the enemies, shoulde kneele with the lefte legge, to bee able more strongly to withstande their violence: the whiche havyng geven him the victorie, it got him also so muche praise, that all the images, whiche were erected in his honour, stoode after the same facion. but because it is tyme to finishe this reasonyng, i wil turne againe to my first purpose, and partly i shall avoide the same reproche, wherin they use to condempne in this towne, such as knoweth not when to make an ende. [sidenote: the auctor retorneth to his first purpose and maketh a littel discorse to make an ende of his reasonyng.] if you remembre cosimus you tolde me, that i beyng of one side an exalter of the antiquitie, and a dispraiser of those, which in waightie matters imitated them not, and of the other side, i havynge not in the affaires of war, wherin i have taken paine, imitated them, you coulde not perceive the occasion: wherunto i answered, how that men which wil doo any thing, muste firste prepare to knowe how to doe it, for to be able, after to use it, when occasion permitteth: whether i doe know how to bryng the servis of warre to the auncient manners or no, i will be judged by you, whiche have hearde me upon this matter longe dispute wherby you may know, how much time i have consumed in these studies: and also i beleeve that you maie imagen, how much desire is in me to brynge it to effecte: the whiche whether i have been able to have doen, or that ever occasion hath been geven me, most easely you maie conjecture: yet for to make you more certaine and for my better justificacion, i will also aledge the occasions: and as much as i have promised, i will partely performe, to shew you the difficultie and the facelitie, whiche bee at this presente in suche imitacions. [sidenote: a prince may easelie brynge to intiere perfection the servis of warre; two sortes of capitaines worthie to bee praysed.] therfore i saie, how that no deede that is doen now a daies emong men, is more easie to be reduced unto the aunciente maners, then the service of warre: but by them onely that be princes of so moche state, who can at least gather together of their owne subjectes, xv. or twentie thousande yong menne: otherwise, no thyng is more difficulte, then this, to them whiche have not soche commoditie: and for that you maie the better understande this parte, you have to knowe, howe that there bee of twoo condicions, capitaines to bee praised: the one are those, that with an armie ordained through the naturalle discipline thereof, have dooen greate thynges: as were the greater parte of the romaine citezeins, and suche as have ledde armies, the which have had no other paine, then to maintaine them good, and to se them guided safely: the other are they, whiche not onely have had to overcome the enemie, but before they come to the same, have been constrained to make good and well ordered their armie: who without doubte deserve muche more praise, then those have deserved, which with olde armies, and good, have valiantely wrought. of these, such wer pelopida, and epaminonda, tullus hostillius, phillip of macedony father of alexander, cirus kyng of the percians, graccus a romaine: they all were driven first to make their armies good, and after to faighte with them: they all coulde doe it, as well throughe their prudence, as also for havynge subjectes whome thei might in like exercises instruct: nor it shuld never have ben otherwise possible, that anie of theim, though they had ben never so good and ful of al excellencie, should have been able in a straunge countrey, full of men corrupted, not used to anie honest obedience, to have brought to passe anie laudable worke. it suffiseth not then in italie, to know how to governe an army made, but first it is necessarie to know how to make it and after to know how to commaunde it: and to do these things it is requisit they bee those princes, whome havyng much dominion, and subjectes inoughe, maie have commoditie to doe it: of whiche i can not bee, who never commaunded, nor cannot commaunde, but to armies of straungers, and to men bounde to other, and not to me: in whiche if it be possible, or no, to introduce anie of those thynges that this daie of me hath ben reasoned, i will leave it to your judgement. albeit when coulde i make one of these souldiours which now a daies practise, to weare more armur then the ordinarie, and besides the armur, to beare their owne meate for two or three daies, with a mattocke: when coulde i make theim to digge, or keepe theim every daie manie howers armed, in fained exercises, for to bee able after in the verie thyng in deede to prevaile? when woulde thei abstaine from plaie, from laciviousnesse, from swearynge, from the insolence, whiche everie daie they committe? when would they be reduced into so muche dissepline, into so much obedience and reverence, that a tree full of appels in the middest of their campe, shoulde be founde there and lefte untouched? as is redde, that in the auncient armies manie times hapned. what thynge maye i promis them, by meane wherof thei may have me in reverence to love, or to feare, when the warre beyng ended, they have not anie more to doe with me? wher of maie i make them ashamed, whiche be borne and brought up without shame? whie shoulde thei be ruled by me who knowe me not? by what god or by what sainctes may i make them to sweare? by those that thei worship, or by those that they blaspheme? who they worship i knowe not anie: but i knowe well they blaspheme all. how shoulde i beleeve that thei will keepe their promise to them, whome everie hower they dispise? how can they, that dispise god, reverence men? then what good fashion shoulde that be, whiche might be impressed in this matter? and if you should aledge unto me that suyzzers and spaniardes bee good souldiours, i woulde confesse unto you, how they be farre better then the italians: but if you note my reasonynge, and the maner of procedyng of bothe, you shall see, howe they lacke many thynges to joygne to the perfection of the antiquetie. and how the suyzzers be made good of one of their naturall uses caused of that, whiche to daie i tolde you: those other are made good by mean of a necessitie: for that servyng in a straunge countrie, and seemyng unto them to be constrained either to die, or to overcome, thei perceivynge to have no place to flie, doe become good: but it is a goodnesse in manie partes fawtie: for that in the same there is no other good, but that they bee accustomed to tarie the enemie at the pike and sweardes poincte: nor that, which thei lacke, no man should be meete to teache them, and so much the lesse, he that coulde not speake their language. [sidenote: the auctor excuseth the people of italie to the great reproche of their prynces for their ignorance in the affaires of warre.] but let us turne to the italians, who for havynge not had wise princes, have not taken anie good order: and for havyng not had the same necessitie, whiche the spaniardes have hadde, they have not taken it of theim selves, so that they remaine the shame of the worlde: and the people be not to blame, but onely their princes, who have ben chastised, and for their ignorance have ben justely punisshed, leesinge moste shamefully their states, without shewing anie vertuous ensample. and if you will see whether this that i say be trew: consider how manie warres have ben in italie since the departure of kyng charles to this day, where the war beyng wonte to make men warlyke and of reputacion, these the greater and fierser that they have been, so muche the more they have made the reputacion of the members and of the headdes therof to bee loste. this proveth that it groweth, that the accustomed orders were not nor bee not good, and of the newe orders, there is not anie whiche have knowen how to take them. nor never beleeve that reputacion will be gotten, by the italians weapons, but by the same waie that i have shewed, and by means of theim, that have great states in italie: for that this forme maie be impressed in simple rude men, of their owne, and not in malicious, ill brought up, and straungers. nor there shall never bee founde anie good mason, whiche will beleeve to be able to make a faire image of a peece of marbell ill hewed, but verye well of a rude peece. [sidenote: a discription of the folishenesse of the italian princes; cesar and alexander, were the formoste in battell; the venecians and the duke of ferare began to have reduced the warfare to the aunciente maners; he that despiseth the servis of warre, despiseth his own welthe.] our italian princes beleved, before thei tasted the blowes of the outlandishe warre, that it should suffice a prince to knowe by writynges, how to make a subtell answere, to write a goodly letter, to shewe in saiynges, and in woordes, witte and promptenesse, to knowe how to canvas a fraude, to decke theim selves with precious stones and gold, to slepe and to eate with greater glorie then other: to keepe many lascivious persones aboute them, to governe theim selves with their subjectes, covetuously and proudely: to rotte in idlenesse, to give the degrees of the exercise of warre, for good will, to despise if any should have shewed them any laudable waie, minding that their wordes should bee aunswers of oracles: nor the sely wretches were not aware, that thei prepared theim selves to bee a praie, to whom so ever should assaulte theim. hereby grewe then in the thousande fower hundred nintie and fower yere, the greate feares, the sodain flightes, and the marveilous losses: and so three most mightie states which were in italie, have been divers times sacked and destroied. but that which is worse, is where those that remaine, continue in the verie same erroure, and live in the verie same disorder, and consider not, that those, who in old time would kepe their states, caused to be dooen these thynges, which of me hath been reasoned, and that their studies wer, to prepare the body to diseases, and the minde not to feare perilles. whereby grewe that cesar, alexander, and all those menne and excellente princes in old tyme, were the formoste emongest the faighters, goyng armed on foote: and if thei loste their state, thei would loose their life, so that thei lived and died vertuously. and if in theim, or in parte of theim, there might bee condempned to muche ambicion to reason of: yet there shall never bee founde, that in theim is condempned any tendernesse or any thynge that maketh menne delicate and feable: the whiche thyng, if of these princes were redde and beleved, it should be impossible, that thei should not change their forme of living, and their provinces not to chaunge fortune. and for that you in the beginnyng of this our reasonyng, lamented your ordinaunces, i saie unto you, that if you had ordained it, as i afore have reasoned, and it had given of it self no good experience, you might with reason have been greved therewith: but if it bee not so ordained, and exercised, as i have saied, it maie be greeved with you, who have made a counterfaite thereof, and no perfecte figure. the venecians also, and the duke of ferare, beganne it, and followed it not, the whiche hath been through their faulte, not through their menne. and therfore i assure you, that who so ever of those, whiche at this daie have states in italie, shall enter firste into this waie, shall be firste, before any other, lorde of this province, and it shall happen to his state, as to the kyngdome of the macedonians, the which commyng under philip, who had learned the maner of settyng armies in order of epaminondas a thebane, became with this order, and with these exercises (whileste the reste of grece stoode in idlenesse, and attended to risite comedes) so puisant, that he was able in few yeres to possesse it all, and to leave soche foundacion to his sonne, that he was able to make hymself, prince of all the world. he then that despiseth these studies, if he be a prince, despiseth his princedome: if he bee a citezein, his citee. wherefore, i lamente me of nature, the whiche either ought not to have made me a knower of this, or it ought to have given me power, to have been able to have executed it: for now beyng olde, i cannot hope to have any occasion, to bee able so to dooe: in consideracion whereof, i have been liberall with you, who beeyng grave yong menne, maie (when the thynges saied of me shall please you) at due tymes in favour of your princes, helpe theim and counsaile them, wherein i would have you not to bee afraied, or mistrustfull, bicause this province seemes to bee altogether given, to raise up againe the thynges dedde, as is seen by the perfeccion that poesie, paintyng, and writing, is now brought unto: albeit, as moche as is looked for of me, beyng strooken in yeres, i do mistruste. where surely, if fortune had heretofore graunted me so moche state, as suffiseth for a like enterprise, i would not have doubted, but in moste shorte tyme, to have shewed to the worlde, how moche the aunciente orders availe: and without peradventure, either i would have increased it with glory, or loste it without shame. * * * * * the ende of the seventh and laste booke of the arte of warre, of nicholas machiavell, citezein and secretarie of florence, translated out of italian into englishe: by peter whitehorne, felow of graise inne. nicholas machiavel, citezein and secretarie of florence, to the readers to thentente that such as rede this booke maie without difficultie understande the order of the battailes, or bandes of men, and of the armies, and lodgynges in the campe, accordynge as they in the discription of theim are apoincted, i thinke it necessarie to shewe you the figure of everie one of them: wherefore it is requiset firste, to declare unto you, by what poinctes and letters, the footemen, the horsemen, and everie other particuler membre are set foorthe. know therfore that .} signifieth {targetmen. '} {pikemen. c} {a capitaine of ten men. v} {veliti ordinarie. (those men that shoot with harcabuses or bowes) r} {veliti extraordinari. c} {a centurion or captaine of a hundred men. k} {a constable or a captaine of a band of fower hundred and fiftie men. h} {the hed captain of a maine battel. g} {the general captaine of the whole armie. t} {the trompet. d} {the drum. b} {the ansigne. s} {the standerde. m} {men of armes. l} {light horsemen. a} {artillerie or ordinance. in the first figure nexte folowyng, is discribed the forme of an ordinarie battaile or bande of fower hundred and fiftie men, and in what maner it is redoubled by flanke. and also how with the verie same order of lxxx. rankes, by chaungyng onely to the hinder parte the five rankes of pikes which were the formost of everie centurie, thei maye likewise in bringyng them in battaile raie, come to bee placed behinde: whiche may be doen, when in marchyng, the enemies should come to assaulte them at their backes: accordynge as the orderyng therof is before declared. fol. . in the seconde figure, is shewed how a battaile or bande of men is ordered, whiche in marchyng should be driven to faight on the flanke: accordyng as in the booke is declared. fol. . in the thirde figure, is shewed how a battaile or bande of men, is ordered with two hornes, fol. , and after is shewed how the same maie be made with a voide place in the middest: accordynge as the orderyng therof, in the booke moste plainely is declared, fol. . in the fowerth figure, is shewed the forme or facion of an armie apoincted to faight the battaile with the enemies: and for the better understandynge thereof, the verie same is plainlier set foorthe in the figure next unto it, wherby the other two figures next folowyng maie the easier be understoode: accordynge as in the booke is expressed. fol. . in the fifte figure, is shewed the forme of a fower square armie: as in the booke is discribed. fol. . in the sixte figure, is shewed howe an armie is brought from a fower square facion, to the ordinarie forme, to faight a fielde: accordyng as afore is declared. fol. . in the seventh figure, is discribed the maner of incamping: according as the same in the booke is declared. fol. . the firste figure this is the maner of ordering of cccc. men, into lxxx. rankes, five to a ranke, to bring them into a iiii square battaile with the pikes on the front, as after foloweth. c c'''' c'''' c'''' c'''' c'''' c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c.... c ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... c ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... c ''''c ''''c ''''c ''''c ''''c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c ....c this is the foresaied lxxx. rankes of iiii. c. men brought into a fower square battaile with the pikes on the fronte. and the fiftie veliti on the sides and on the backe. c c vc''''''''''''''''''cv vc''''''''''''''''''cv vc''''''''''''''''''cv vc''''''''''''''''''cv vc''''''''''''''''''cv vc........dkb.......cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv vc..................cv c v v v v v v v v v v c the seconde figure this is the maner of ordering of cccc. men, into lxxx. rankes, five to a ranke, to bring them into a iiii square battaile with the pikes on the side, as after foloweth. c ccccc ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ''''' ccccc c ccccc ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ccccc c ccccc ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ccccc c ccccc ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ..... ccccc this is the foresaied lxxx. rankes of iiii. c. men brought into a fower square battaile with the pikes on the side. cvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvc cccccccccccccccccccc v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' ...............''''' v...............''''' cccccccccccccccccccc cvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvc the thyrde figure these are the nombers of rankes appoincted to make the horned battaile of, and the square battaile with the voide space in the middest, as after foloweth. ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ............... ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ............... cccccccccccccccccccc.....c...............c ......................... ............... ......................... ............... ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ccccccccccccccccccccc.....c ......................... ......................... ............... ............... ............... ............... ...............d ...............k ...............b ............... ............... ............... ............... ......................... ......................... ccccccccccccccccccccc.....c ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ............... ......................... ............... ......................... ...............ccccccccccccccccccccc.....c ............... ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ............... 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.urru..urru.. mmmmmmmm vvv)u. .uc)u. .uc)u. .uc)u..uccu . mmmmmmmm vvv),,,,,c dkbr,,,...r .... .lll vvvr,dkb..r dhb . .m vvvr,,,...r .... ...t vvvr,,,...r .... vvv),,,...c vvv),,,...c vvvr,,,...r )u, ,uc )u,, )vcr,dkb .r ru. ,ur ru,, r,,,...r rudkbur ru,d r,,,...r ru. .ur ru.. r,,,...r ru. .ur ru.. ),,,...c )u. .uc )u. ),,,...c r,,,...r r,dkb..r r,,,...r r,,,...r ),,,...c ),,,...c r,,,...r )u. .uc r,dkb..r ru, ,ur r,,,...r rudkbur r,,,...r ru. .ur ),,, ..c ru. .ur ),,,...c )u. .uc r,,,...r )u. .uc r,,dkb.r r,,,...r r,,,...r ),,, ..c ),,,,,,c r,,,,,,r r, dkb,r r,,,,,,r r,,,,,,r ),,,,,,c a a a a a ,uc)u, ,uc)u, ,uc)u, ,uc)u, ,uc)v) mmmmmmmm ,urru, ,urru, ,urru, ,urru, ,urvvv mmmmmmmm b,rr,dkb,rr,dkb,rr,dkb,rr dkb rvvv mmmmmmmm .urru. .urru. .urru. .urru. .urvvvmmmtkfmmm .urru. .urru. .urru. .urru. .urvvv mmmmmmmm .uc)u. .uc)u. .uc)u. .uccu. .u)vvv mmmmmmmm )...,,cvvv mmmmmmmm .ll.. .... r...,,,rdkb .m. dhb r.dkb, rvvv gs.. .... r...,,,rvvv .... r...,,,rvvv )... ,,cvvv ,uc )u. .uc )... ,,cvvv ,ur ru, ,ur r...,,,rvvv kb,r r,dkb,r r.dkb, rc ) ,ur ru. .ur r...,,,r ,ur ru. .ur r...,,,r ,uc )u. .u) )... ,,c )... ,,c r...,,,r r.dkb, r r...,,,r r...,,,r )...,,,c )...,,,c )u, ,uc r...,, r ru, ,ur r.dkb, r r,dkb,r r...,,,r ru. .ur r...,,,r ru. .ur )... ,,c )u. .uc )... ,,c r...,,,r r.dkb, r r...,,,r r...,,,r )... ,,c ),,, ,,c r,,,,,,r r,dkb, r r,,,,,,r r,,,,,,r ),,, ,,c nicholas machiavel's prince translated out of italian into english by e.d. with some animadversions noting and taxing his errors to the most noble and illustrious, james duke of lenox, earle of march, baron of setrington, darnly, terbanten, and methuen, lord great chamberlain and admiral of scotland, knight of the most noble order of the garter, and one of his majesties most honourable privy counsel in both kingdomes. poysons are not all of that malignant and noxious quality, that as destructives of nature, they are utterly to be abhord; but we find many, nay most of them have their medicinal uses. this book carries its poyson and malice in it; yet mee thinks the judicious peruser may honestly make use of it in the actions of his life, with advantage. the lamprey, they say, hath a venemous string runs all along the back of it; take that out, and it is serv'd in for a choyce dish to dainty palates; epictetus the philosopher, sayes, every thing hath two handles, as the fire brand, it may be taken up at one end in the bare hand without hurt: the other being laid hold on, will cleave to the very flesh, and the smart of it will pierce even to the heart. sin hath the condition of the fiery end; the touch of it is wounding with griefe unto the soule: nay it is worse; one sin goes not alone but hath many consequences. your grace may find the truth of this in your perusal of this author: your judgement shall easily direct you in finding out the good uses of him: i have pointed at his chiefest errors with my best endeavors, and have devoted them to your graces service: which if you shall accept and protect, i shall remain your graces humble and devoted servant, edward dacres. the epistle to the reader. questionless some men will blame me for making this author speak in our vulgar tongue. for his maximes and tenents are condemnd of all, as pernicious to all christian states, and hurtfull to all humane societies. herein i shall answer for my self with the comoedian, _placere studeo bonis quam plurimis, et minimé multos lædere_: i endeavor to give content to the most i can of those that are well disposed, and no scandal to any. i grant, i find him blamed and condemned: i do no less my self. reader, either do thou read him without a prejudicate opinion, and out of thy own judgement taxe his errors; or at least, if thou canst stoop so low, make use of my pains to help thee; i will promise thee this reward for thy labor: if thou consider well the actions of the world, thou shalt find him much practised by those that condemn him; who willingly would walk as theeves do with close lanternes in the night, that they being undescried, and yet seeing all, might surprise the unwary in the dark. surely this book will infect no man: out of the wicked treasure of a mans own wicked heart, he drawes his malice and mischief. from the same flower the bee sucks honey, from whence the spider hath his poyson. and he that means well, shall be here warnd, where the deceitfull man learnes to set his snares. a judge who hath often used to examine theeves, becomes the more expert to sift out their tricks. if mischief come hereupon, blame not me, nor blame my author: lay the saddle on the right horse: but _hony soit qui mal y pense_: let shame light on him that hatcht the mischief. the prince nicholas machiavelli, to the magnificent laurence sonne to peter of medicis health. they that desire to ingratiate themselves with a prince, commonly use to offer themselves to his view, with things of that nature as such persons take most pleasure and delight in: whereupon we see they are many times presented with horses and armes, cloth of gold, pretious stones, and such like ornaments, worthy of their greatness. having then a mind to offer up my self to your magnificence, with some testimony of my service to you, i found nothing in my whole inventory, that i think better of, or more esteeme, than the knowlege of great mens actions, which i have learned by a long experience of modern affairs, and a continual reading of those of the ancients. which, now that i have with great diligence long workt it out, and throughly sifted, i commend to your magnificence. and, however i may well think this work unworthy of your view; yet such is your humanity, that i doubt not but it shall find acceptance, considering, that for my part i am not able to tender a greater gift, than to present you with the means, whereby in a very short time you may be able to understand all that, which i, in the space of many years, and with many sufferances and dangers, have made proof and gaind the knowledge of. and this work i have not set forth either with elegancy of discourse or stile, nor with any other ornament whereby to captivate the reader, as others use, because i would not have it gain its esteem from elsewhere than from the truth of the matter, and the gravity of the subject. nor can this be thought presumption, if a man of humble and low condition venture to dilate and discourse upon the governments of princes; for even as they that with their pensils designe out countreys, get themselves into the plains below to consider the nature of the mountains, and other high places above; and again to consider the plains below, they get up to the tops of the mountains; in like manner to understand the nature of the people, it is fit to be a prince; and to know well the dispositions of princes, sutes best with the understanding of a subject. your magnificence then may be pleased, to receive this small present, with the same mind that i send it; which if you shall throughly peruse and consider, you shall perceive therein that i exceedingly wish, that you may attain to that greatness, which your own fortune, and your excellent endowments promise you: and if your magnificence from the very point of your highness shall sometime cast your eyes upon these inferior places, you shall see how undeservedly i undergoe an extream and continual despight of fortune. the table of the chapters chap. . how many sorts of principalities there are, and how many wayes they are attained to, chap. . of hereditary principalities, chap. . of mixt principalities, chap. . wherefore darius his kingdome, taken by alexander, rebelled not against his successors after alexanders death, chap. . in what manner cities and principalities are to be governed, which before they were conquered, lived under their own laws, chap. . of new principalities that are conquered by ones own armes and valor, chap. . of new principalities gotten by fortune and other mens forces, chap. . concerning those who by wicked means have attaind to a principality, chap. . of the civil principality, chap. . in what manner the forces of all principalities ought to be measured, chap. . concerning ecclesiastical principalities, chap. . how many sorts of military discipline there be; and touching mercenary soldiers, chap. . of auxiliary soldiers, mixt and natives, chap. . what belongs to the prince touching military discipline, chap. . of those things in respect whereof men, and especially princes are prais'd or disprais'd, chap. . of liberality and miserableness, chap. . of cruelty and clemency, and whether it is better to be belov'd or feared, chap. . in what manner princes ought to keep their word, chap. . that princes should take a care not to incur contempt or hatred, chap. . whether the citadels and many other things, which princes make use of, are profitable or dammageable, chap. . how a prince ought to behave himself to gain reputation, chap. . touching princes secretaries, chap. . that flatterers are to be avoyded, chap. . wherefore the princes of italy have lost their states, chap. . how great power fortune hath in humane affairs, and what means there is to resist it, chap. . an exhortation to free italy from the barbarions, the prince written by nicholas machiavelli, secretary and citizen of florence. chap. i how many sorts of principalities there are, and how many wayes they are attained to. all states, all dominions that have had, or now have rule over men, have been and are, either republiques or principalities. principalities are either hereditary, whereof they of the blood of the lord thereof have long time been princes; or else they are new; and those that are new, are either all new, as was the dutchy of millan to francis sforce; or are as members adjoyned to the hereditary state of the prince that gains it; as the kingdom of naples is to the king of spain. these dominions so gotten, are accustomed either to live under a prince, or to enjoy their liberty; and are made conquest of, either with others forces, or ones own, either by fortune, or by valor. chap. ii of hereditary principalities. i will not here discourse of republiques, because i have other where treated of them at large: i will apply my self only to a principality, and proceed, while i weave this web, by arguing thereupon, how these principallities can be governed and maintained. i say then that in states of inheritance, and accustomed to the blood of their princes, there are far fewer difficulties to keep them, than in the new: for it suffices only not to transgress the course his ancestors took, and so afterward to temporise with those accidents that can happen; that if such a prince be but of ordinary industry, he shall allwaies be able to maintain himself in his state, unless by some extraordinary or excessive power he be deprived thereof; and when he had lost it, upon the least sinister chance that befalls the usurper, he recovers it again. we have in italy the duke of ferrara for example hereof, who was of ability to resist the venetians, in the year , and to withstand pope julius in the tenth for no other reason, than because he had of old continued in that rule; for the natural prince hath fewer occasions, and less heed to give offence, whereupon of necessity he must be more beloved; and unless it be that some extravagant vices of his bring him into hatred, it is agreeable to reason, that naturally he should be well beloved by his own subjects: and in the antiquity and continuation of the dominion, the remembrances and occasions of innovations are quite extinguished: for evermore one change leaves a kind of breach or dent, to fasten the building of another. chap. iii of mixt principalities. but the difficulties consist in the new principality; and first, if it be not all new, but as a member, so that it may be termed altogether as mixt; and the variations thereof proceed in the first place from a natural difficulty, which we commonly finde in all new principalities; for men do willingly change their lord, beleeving to better their condition; and this beliefe causes them to take armes against him that rules over them, whereby they deceive themselves, because they find after by experience, they have made it worse: which depends upon another natural and ordinary necessity, forcing him alwaies to offend those, whose prince he newly becomes, as well by his soldiers he is put to entertain upon them as by many other injuries, which a new conquest draws along with it; in such manner as thou findest all those thine enemies, whom thou hast endammaged in the seizing of that principality, and afterwards canst not keep them thy friends that have seated thee in it, for not being able to satisfie them according to their expectations, nor put in practice strong remedies against them, being obliged to them. for however one be very well provided with strong armies, yet hath he alwaies need of the favor of the inhabitants in the countrey, to enter thereinto. for these reasons, lewis the twelfth, king of france, suddenly took milan, and as soon lost it; and the first time lodwick his own forces served well enough to wrest it out of his hands; for those people that had opened him the gates, finding themselves deceived of their opinion, and of that future good which they had promised themselves, could not endure the distastes the new prince gave them. true it is, that countreys that have rebelled again the second time, being recovered, are harder lost; for their lord, taking occasion from their rebellion, is less respective of persons, but cares only to secure himself, by punishing the delinquents, to clear all suspicions, and to provide for himself where he thinks he is weakest: so that if to make france lose milan the first time, it was enough for duke lodwick to make some small stir only upon the confines; yet afterwards, before they could make him lose it the second time, they had need of the whole world together against him, and that all his armies should be wasted and driven out of italy; which proceeded from the forenamed causes: however though both the first and second time it was taken from him. the generall causes of the first we have treated of; it remains now that we see those of the second; and set down the remedies that he had, or any one else can have that should chance to be in those termes he was, whereby he might be able to maintain himself better in his conquest than the king of france did. i say therefore, that these states which by conquest are annexed to the ancient states of their conqueror, are either of the same province and the same language, or otherwise; and when they are, it is very easy to hold them, especially when they are not used to live free; and to enjoy them securely, it is enough to have extinguished the princes line who ruled over them: for in other matters, allowing them their ancient conditions, and there being not much difference of manners betwixt them, men ordinarily live quiet enough; as we have seen that burgundy did, britany, gascony, and normandy, which so long time continued with france: for however there be some difference of language between them, yet can they easily comport one with another; and whosoever makes the conquest of them, meaning to hold them, must have two regards; the first, that the race of their former prince be quite extinguished; the other, that he change nothing, neither in their lawes nor taxes, so that in a very short time they become one entire body with their ancient principality. but when any states are gaind in a province disagreeing in language, manners, and orders, here are the difficulties, and here is there need of good fortune, and great industry to maintain them; and it would be one of the best and livelyest remedies, for the conqueror to goe in person and dwell there; this would make the possession hereof more secure and durable; as the turk hath done in greece, who among all the other courses taken by him for to hold that state, had he not gone thither himself in person to dwell, it had never been possible for him to have kept it: for abiding there, he sees the disorders growing in their beginnings, and forthwith can remedy them; whereas being not there present, they are heard of when they are grown to some height, and then is there no help for them. moreover, the province is not pillaged by the officers thou sendest thither: the subjects are much satisfied of having recourse to the prince near at hand, whereupon have they more reason to love him, if they mean to be good; and intending to do otherwise, to fear him: and forrein princes will be well aware how they invade that state; insomuch, that making his abode there, he can very hardly lose it. another remedy, which is also a better, is to send colonies into one or two places, which may be as it were the keys of that state; for it is necessary either to do this, or to maintain there many horse and foot. in these colonies the prince makes no great expence, and either without his charge, or at a very small rate, he may both send and maintain them; and gives offence only to them from whom he takes their fields and houses, to bestow them on those new inhabitants who are but a very small part of that state; and those that he offends, remaining dispersed and poore, can never hurt him: and all the rest on one part, have no offence given them, and therefore a small matter keeps them in quiet: on the other side, they are wary not to erre, for fear it befalls not them, as it did those that were dispoild. i conclude then, that those colonies that are not chargeable, are the more trusty, give the less offence; and they that are offended, being but poor and scattered, can do but little harme, as i have said; for it is to be noted, that men must either be dallyed and flattered withall, or else be quite crusht; for they revenge themselves of small dammages; but of great ones they are not able; so that when wrong is done to any man, it ought so to be done, that it need fear no return of revenge again. but in lieu of colonies, by maintaining soldiers there, the expence is great; for the whole revenues of that state are to be spent in the keeping of it; so the conquest proves but a loss to him that hath got it, and endammages him rather; for it hurts that whole state to remove the army from place to place, of which annoyance every one hath a feeling, and so becomes enemie to thee; as they are enemies, i wis, who are outraged by thee in their own houses, whensoever they are able to do thee mischief. every way then is this guard unprofitable. besides, he that is in a different province, (as it is said) should make himself head and defender of his less powerfull neighbors, and devise alwaies to weaken those that are more mighty therein, and take care that upon no chance there enter not any foreiner as mighty as himself; for it will alwaies come to pass, that they shall be brought in by those that are discontented, either upon ambition, or fear; as the etolians brought the romans into greece; and they were brought into every countrey they came, by the natives; and the course of the matter is, that so soon as a powerfull stranger enters a countrey, all those that are the less powerfull there, cleave to him, provoked by an envy they beare him that is more mighty than they; so that for these of the weaker sort, he may easily gain them without any pains: for presently all of them together very willingly make one lump with that he hath gotten: he hath only to beware that these increase not their strengths, nor their authorities, and so he shall easily be able by his own forces, and their assistances, to take down those that are mighty, and remain himself absolute arbitre of that countrey. and he that playes not well this part, shall quickly lose what he hath gotten; and while he holds it, shall find therein a great many troubles and vexations. the romans in the provinces they seiz'd on, observed well these points, sent colonies thither, entertained the weaker sort, without augmenting any thing their power, abated the forces of those that were mighty, and permitted not any powerfull forreiner to gain too much reputation there. and i will content my self only with the countrey of greece for example hereof. the achayans and etolians were entertained by them, the macedons kingdome was brought low, antiochus was driven thence, nor ever did the achayans or etolians deserts prevail so far for them, that they would ever promise to enlarge their state, nor the perswasions of philip induce them ever to be his friends, without bringing him lower; nor yet could antiochus his power make them ever consent that he should hold any state in that countrey: for the romans did in these cases that which all judicious princes ought to do, who are not only to have regard unto all present mischiefs, but also to the future, and to provide for those with all industry; for by taking order for those when they are afarre off, it is easie to prevent them; but by delaying till they come near hand to thee, the remedy comes too late; for this malignity is grown incurable: and it befalls this, as the physicians say of the hectick feaver, that in the beginning it is easily cur'd, but hardly known; but in the course of time, not having been known in the beginning, nor cured, it becomes easie to know, but hard to cure. even so falls it out in matters of state; for by knowing it aloof off (which is given only to a wise man to do) the mischiefs that then spring up, are quickly helped; but when, for not having been perceived, they are suffered to increase, so that every one sees them, there is then no cure for them: therefore the romans, seeing these inconvenients afar off, alwaies prevented them, and never sufferd them to follow; for to escape a war, because they knew that a war is not undertaken, but deferred for anothers advantage; therefore would they rather make a war with philip and antiochus in greece, to the end it should not afterwards be made with them in italy, though for that time they were able to avoid both the one and the other, which they thought not good to do: nor did they approve of that saying that is ordinarily in the mouthes of the sages of our dayes, _to enjoy the benefits of the present time_; but that rather, to take the benefit of their valor and wisdome; for time drives forward everything, and may bring with it as well good as evil, and evil as good. but let us return to france, and examine if any of the things prescribed have been done by them: and we will speak of lewis, and not of charles, as of whom by reason of the long possession he held in italy we better knew the wayes he went: and you shall see he did the clean contrary to what should have been done by him that would maintain a state of different language and conditions. king lewis was brought into italy by the venetians ambition, who would have gotten for their shares half the state of lombardy: i will not blame his comming, or the course he took, because he had a mind to begin to set a foot in italy; but having not any friends in the country, all gates being barred against him, by reason of king charles his carriage there, he was constrained to joyn friendship with those he could; and this consideration well taken, would have proved lucky to him, when in the rest of his courses he had not committed any error. the king then having conquered lombardy, recovered presently all that reputation that charles had lost him; genua yeelded to him, the florentines became friends with him; the marquess of mantua, the duke of ferrara, the bentivolti, the lady of furli, the lord of faenza, pesaro rimino, camerino, and piombino, the lucheses, pisans and sienses, every one came and offered him friendship: then might the venetians consider the rashness of the course they had taken, who, only to get into their hands two townes in lombardy, made the king lord of two thirds in italy. let any man now consider with how small difficulty could the king have maintained his reputation in italy, if he had followed these aforenamed rules, and secured and defended those his friends, who because their number was great, and they weak and fearful, some of the church, and others of the venetians were alwaies forced to hold with him, and by their means he might easily have been able to secure himself against those that were mightiest: but he was no sooner got into milan, than he took a quite wrong course, by giving ayd to pope alexander, to seize upon romania, and perceiv'd not that by this resolution he weakned himself, ruining his own friends, and those had cast themselves into his bosom, making the church puissant, by adding to their spiritual power, they gaind their authority, and so much temporal estate. and having once got out of the way, he was constrained to go on forward; insomuch as to stop alexanders ambition, and that he should not become lord of all tuscany, of force he was to come into italy: and this sufficed him not, to have made the church mighty, and taken away his own friends; but for the desire he had to get the kingdome of naples, he divided it with the king of spain: and where before he was the sole arbitre of italy, he brought in a competitor, to the end that all the ambitious persons of that country, and all that were ill affected to him, might have otherwhere to make their recourse: and whereas he might have left in that kingdome some vice-king of his own, he took him from thence, to place another there, that might afterward chace him thence. it is a thing indeed very natural and ordinary, to desire to be of the getting hand: and alwaies when men undertake it, if they can effect it, they shall be prais'd for it, or at least not blam'd: but when they are not able, and yet will undertake it, here lies the blame, here is the error committed. if france then was able with her own power to assail the kingdome of naples, she might well have done it; but not being able, she should not have divided it: and if the division she made of lombardy with the venetians, deserv'd some excuse, thereby to set one foot in italy; yet this merits blame, for not being excused by that necessity. lewis then committed these five faults; extinguisht the feebler ones, augmented the state of another that was already powerful in italy, brought thereinto a very puissant forreiner, came not thither himself to dwell there, nor planted any colonies there: which faults while he liv'd, he could not but be the worse for; yet all could not have gone so ill, had he not committed the sixt, to take from the venetians their state; for if he had not enlarg'd the churches territories nor brought the spaniard into italy, it had bin necessary to take them lower; but having first taken those other courses, he should never have given way to their destruction; for while they had been strong, they would alwaies have kept the others off from venturing on the conquest of lombardy. for the venetians would never have given their consents thereto, unless they should have been made lords of it themselves; and the others would never have taken it from france, to give it them: and then they would never have dar'd to go and set upon them both together. and if any one should say, that king lewis yeelded romania to alexander, and the kingdome of naples to spain, to avoid a war; i answer with the reasons above alledged, that one should never suffer any disorder to follow, for avoiding of a war; for that war is not sav'd, but put off to thy disadvantage. and if any others argue, that the king had given his word to the pope, to do that exploit for him, for dissolving of his marriage, and for giving the cardinals cap to him of roan; i answer with that which hereafter i shall say touching princes words, how they ought to be kept. king lewis then lost lombardy, for not having observ'd some of those termes which others us'd, who have possessed themselves of countries, and desir'd to keep them. nor is this any strange thing, but very ordinary and reasonable: and to this purpose i spake at nantes with that french cardinal, when valentine (for so ordinarily was cæsar borgia pope alexanders son call'd) made himself master of romania; for when the cardinal said to me, that the italians understood not the feats of war; i answered, the frenchmen understood not matters of state: for had they been well vers'd therein, they would never have suffer'd the church to have grown to that greatness. and by experience we have seen it, that the power hereof in italy, and that of spain also, was caused by france, and their own ruine proceeded from themselves. from whence a general rule may be taken, which never, or very seldom fails, _that he that gives the means to another to become powerful, ruines himself_; for that power is caus'd by him either with his industry, or with his force; and as well the one as the other of these two is suspected by him that is grown puissant. chap. iv wherefore darius his kingdome taken by alexander, rebelled not against alexanders successors after his death. the difficulties being consider'd, which a man hath in the maintaining of a state new gotten, some might marvaile how it came to pass, that alexander the great subdued all asia in a few years; and having hardly possessed himself of it, died; whereupon it seemed probable that all that state should have rebelled; nevertheless his successors kept the possession of it, nor found they other difficulty in holding it, than what arose among themselves through their own ambition. i answer, that all the principalities whereof we have memory left us, have been governed in two several manners; either by a prince, and all the rest vassals, who as ministers by his favor and allowance, do help to govern that kingdom; or by a prince and by barons, who not by their princes favor, but by the antiquity of blood hold that degree. and these kinds of barons have both states of their own, and vassals who acknowledge them for their lords; and bare them a true natural affection. those states that are govern'd by a prince and by vassals, have their prince ruling over them with more authority; for in all his countrey, there is none acknowledged for superior, but himself: and if they yeeld obedience to any one else, it is but as to his minister and officer, nor beare they him any particular good will. the examples of these two different governments now in our dayes, are, the turk, and the king of france. the turks whole monarchy is govern'd by one lord, and the rest are all his vassals; and dividing his whole kingdom into divers sangiacques or governments, he sends several thither, and those he chops and changes, as he pleases. but the king of france is seated in the midst of a multitude of lords, who of old have been acknowledg'd for such by their subjects, and being belov'd by them, enjoy their preheminencies; nor can the king take their states from them without danger. he then that considers the one and the other of these two states, shall find difficulty in the conquest of the turks state; but when once it is subdu'd, great facility to hold it. the reasons of these difficulties in taking of the turks kingdom from him, are, because the invader cannot be called in by the princes of that kingdom, nor hope by the rebellion of those which he hath about him, to be able to facilitate his enterprize: which proceeds from the reasons aforesaid; for they being all his slaves, and oblig'd to him, can more hardly be corrupted; and put case they were corrupted, little profit could he get by it, they not being able to draw after them any people, for the reasons we have shewed: whereupon he that assails the turk, must think to find him united; and must rather relie upon his own forces, than in the others disorders: but when once he is overcome and broken in the field, so that he cannot repair his armies, there is nothing else to be doubted than the royal blood, which being once quite out, there is none else left to be feard, none of the others having any credit with the people. and as the conqueror before the victory could not hope in them; so after it, ought he not to fear them. the contrary falls out in kingdoms governed as is that of france: for it is easie to be enterd by the gaining of any baron in the kingdom; for there are alwaies some malecontents to be found, and those that are glad of innovation. those for the reasons alledg'd are able to open thee a way into that state, and to further thy victory, which afterwards to make good to thee, draws with it exceeding many difficulties, as well with those that have ayded thee, as those thou hast supprest. nor is it enough for thee to root out the princes race: for there remaine still those lords who quickly will be the ring-leaders of new changes; and in case thou art not able to content these, nor extinguish them, thou losest that state, whensoever the occasion is offerd. now if thou shalt consider what sort of government that of darius was, thou shalt find it like to the turks dominion, and therefore alexander was necessitated first to defeat him utterly, and drive him out of the field; after which victory darius being dead, that state was left secure to alexander, for the reasons we treated of before: and his successors, had they continued in amity, might have enjoy'd it at ease: nor ever arose there in that kingdome other tumults, than those they themselves stir'd up. but of the states that are order'd and grounded as that of france, it is impossible to become master at such ease: and from hence grew the frequent rebellions of spain, france, and greece against the romans, by reason of the many principalities those states had: whereof while the memory lasted, the romans were alwayes doubtfull of the possession of them; but the memory of them being quite wip't out, by the power and continuance of the empire, at length they enjoy'd it securely; and they also were able afterwards fighting one with another, each of one them to draw after them the greater part of those provinces, according as their authority had gain'd them credit therein: and that because the blood of their ancient lords was quite spent, they acknowledg'd no other but the romans. by the consideration then of these things, no man will marvaile that alexander had so little trouble to keep together the state of asia; and that others have had such great difficulties to maintain their conquest, as pyrrhus, and many others; which proceeds not from the small or great valour of the conquerour, but from the difference of the subject. chap. v in what manner cities and principalities are to be govern'd, which, before they were conquer'd, liv'd under their own laws. when those states that are conquered, as it is said, have been accustomed to live under their own laws, and in liberty, there are three wayes for a man to hold them. the first is to demolish all their strong places; the other, personally to goe and dwell there; the third, to suffer them to live under their own laws, drawing from them some tribute, and creating therein an oligarchy, that may continue it in thy service: for that state being created by that prince, knowes it cannot consist without his aid and force, who is like to doe all he can to maintain it; and with more facility is a city kept by meanes of her own citizens, which hath been us'd before to live free, than by any other way of keeping. we have for example the spartans and the romans; the spartans held athens and thebes, creating there an oligarchy: yet they lost it. the romans to be sure of capua, carthage, and numantia, dismantell'd them quite, and so lost them not: they would have kept greece as the spartans had held them, leaving them free, and letting them enjoy their own laws; and it prospered not with them: so that they were forc'd to deface many cities of that province to hold it. for in truth there is not a surer way to keep them under, than by demolishments; and whoever becomes master of a city us'd to live free, and dismantells it not, let him look himselfe to bee ruin'd by it; for it alwayes in time of rebellion takes the name of liberty for refuge, and the ancient orders it had; which neither by length of time, nor for any favours afforded them, are ever forgotten; and for any thing that can be done, or order'd, unlesse the inhabitants be disunited and dispers'd, that name is never forgotten, nor those customes: but presently in every chance recourse is thither made: as pisa did after so many yeeres that she had been subdu'd by the florentines. but when the cities or the provinces are accustomed to live under a prince, and that whole race is quite extirpated: on one part being us'd to obey; on the other, not having their old prince; they agree not to make one from among themselves: they know not how to live in liberty, in such manner that they are much slower to take armes; and with more facility may a prince gaine them, and secure himselfe of them. but in republiques there is more life in them, more violent hatred, more earnest desire of revenge; nor does the remembrance of the ancient liberty ever leave them, or suffer them to rest; so that the safest way, is, either to ruine them, or dwell among them. chap. vi of new principalities, that are conquer'd by ones own armes and valour. let no man marvaile, if in the discourse i shall make of new principalities, both touching a prince, and touching a state, i shall alledge very famous examples: for seeing men almost alwayes walk in the pathes beaten by others, and proceed in their actions by imitation; and being that others wayes cannot bee exactly follow'd, nor their vertues, whose patterne thou set'st before thee, attain'd unto; a wise man ought alwayes to tread the footsteps of the worthiest persons, and imitate those that have been the most excellent: to the end that if his vertue arrive not thereto, at least it may yeeld some favour thereof, and doe as good archers use, who thinking the place they intend to hit, too farre distant, and knowing how farr the strength of their bow will carry, they lay their ayme a great deale higher than the mark; not for to hit so high with their arrow, but to bee able with the help of so high an aime to reach the place they shoot at. i say, that in principalities wholly new, where there is a new prince, there is more and lesse difficulty in maintaining them, as the vertue of their conquerour is greater or lesser. and because this successe, to become a prince of a private man, presupposes either vertue, or fortune; mee thinks the one and other of these two things in part should mitigate many difficulties; however he that hath lesse stood upon fortune, hath maintain'd himselfe the better. moreover it somewhat facilitates the matter in that the prince is constrain'd, because he hath not other dominions, in person to come and dwell there. but to come to these who by their own vertues, and not by fortune, attain'd to be princes; the excellentest of these are moses, cyrus, romulus, theseus, and such like; and though of moses we are not to reason, he onely executing the things that were commanded him by god; yet merits he well to be admir'd, were it only for that grace that made him worthy to converse with god. but considering cyrus, and the others, who either got or founded kingdomes, we shall find them all admirable; and if there particular actions and lawes be throughly weigh'd, they will not appeare much differing from those of moyses, which he receiv'd from so sovraigne an instructer. and examining their lives and actions, it will not appeare, that they had other help of fortune, than the occasion, which presented them with the matter wherein they might introduce what forme they then pleas'd; and without that occasion, the vertue of their mind had been extinguish'd; and without that vertue, the occasion had been offer'd in vaine. it was then necessary for moses to find the people of israel slaves in Ægypt, and oppress'd by the Ægyptians, to the end that they to get out of their thraldome, should bee willing to follow him. it was fit that romulus should not be kept in albia, but expos'd presently after his birth, that he might become king of rome, and founder of that city. there was need that cyrus should find the persians discontented with the medes government, and the medes delicate and effeminate through their long peace. theseus could not make proof his vertue, had not he found the athenians dispers'd. these occasions therefore made these men happy, and their excellent vertue made the occasion be taken notice of, whereby their countrey became enobled, and exceeding fortunate. they, who by vertuous waies, like unto these, become princes, attain the principality with difficulty, but hold it with much ease; and the difficulties they find in gaining the principality, arise partly from the new orders and courses they are forc'd to bring in, to lay the foundation of their state, and work their own security. and it is to be consider'd, how there is not any thing harder to take in hand, nor doubtfuller to succeed, nor more dangerous to mannage, than to be the chief in bringing in new orders; for this chief finds all those his enemies, that thrive upon the old orders; and hath but luke warme defenders of all those that would do well upon the new orders, which luke-warme temper proceeds partly from fear of the opposers who have the laws to their advantage; partly from the incredulity of the men who truly beleeve not a new thing, unless there be some certain proof given them thereof. whereupon it arises, that whensoever they that are adversaries, take the occasion to assayle, they do it factiously; and these others defend but cooly, so that their whole party altogether runs a hazzard. therefore it is necessary, being we intend throughly to discourse this part, to examine if these innovators stand of themselves, or if they depend upon others; that is, if to bring their work to effect, it be necessary they should intreat, or be able to constrain; in the first case they allwayes succeed ill, and bring nothing to pass; but when they depend of themselves, and are able to force, then seldom it is that they hazzard. hence came it that all the prophets that were arm'd, prevail'd; but those that were unarm'd, were too weak: for besides what we have alledg'd, the nature of the people is changeable, and easie to be perswaded to a matter; but it is hard also to settle them in that perswasion. and therefore it behoves a man to be so provided, that when they beleeve no longer, he may be able to compel them thereto by force. moses, cyrus, theseus, and romulus would never have been able to cause their laws to be obey'd, had they been disarm'd; as in our times it befel fryer jerome savanarola, who perished in his new constitutions, when the multitude began not to beleeve him; neither had he the means to keep them firme, that had beleev'd; not to force beleefe in them that had not beleev'd him. wherefore such men as these, in their proceedings find great difficulty, and all their dangers are in the way, and these they must surmount by their vertue; but having once master'd them, and beginning to be honored by all, when they have rooted those out that envi'd their dignities, they remain powerful, secure, honorable, and happy. to these choice examples, i will add one of less remark; but it shall hold some proportion with them, and this shall suffice me for all others of this kind, which is hiero the siracusan. he of a private man, became prince of siracusa, nor knew he any other ayd of fortune than the occasion: for the siracusans being oppress'd, made choyce of him for their captain, whereupon he deserv'd to be made their prince: and he was of such vertue even in his private fortune, that he who writes of him, sayes, he wanted nothing of reigning, but a kingdom; this man extinguish'd all the old soldiery, ordaind the new; left the old allyances, entertained new; and as he had friendship, and soldiers that were his own, upon that ground he was able to build any edifice; so that he indured much trouble in gaining, and suffered but little in maintaining. chap. vii of new principalities, gotten by fortune, and other mens forces. they who by fortune only become princes of private men, with small pains attain to it, but have much ado to maintain themselves in it; and find no difficulty at all in the way, because they are carried thither with wings: but all the difficulties arise there, after they are plac'd in them. and of such sort are those who have an estate given them for money, by the favor of some one that grants it them: as it befell many in greece, in the cities of jonia, and hellespont; where divers princes were made by darius, as well for his own safety as his glory; as also them that were made emperors; who from private men by corrupting the soldiers, attaind to the empire. these subsist meerly upon the will, and fortune of those that have advanced them; which are two voluble and unsteady things; and they neither know how, nor are able to continue in that dignity: they know not how, because unless it be a man of great understanding and vertue, it is not probable that he who hath always liv'd a private life, can know how to command: neither are they able, because they have not any forces that can be friendly or faithful to them. moreover those states that suddenly fall into a mans hands, as all other things in nature that spring and grow quickly, cannot well have taken root, nor have made their correspondencies so firm, but that the first storm that takes them, ruines them; in case these, who (as it is said) are thus on a sudden clambred up to be princes, are not of that worth and vertue as to know how to prepare themselves to maintain that which chance hath cast into their bosoms, and can afterwards lay those foundations, which others have cast before they were princes. for the one and the other of these wayes about the attaining to be a prince, by vertue, or by fortune, i will alledge you two examples which have been in the dayes of our memory. these were francis sforza, and cæsar borgia; francis by just means and with a great deal of vertue, of a private man got to be duke of millan; and that which with much pains he had gaind, he kept with small ado. on the other side cæesar borgia (commonly termed duke valentine) got his state by his fathers fortune, and with the same lost it; however that for his own part no pains was spar'd, nor any thing omitted, which by a discreet and valorus man ought to have been done, to fasten his roots in those estates, which others armes or fortune had bestowed on him; for (as it was formerly said) he that lays not the foundations first, yet might be able by means of his extraordinary vertues to lay them afterwards, however it be with the great trouble of the architect, and danger of the edifice. if therefore we consider all the dukes progresses, we may perceive how great foundations he had cast for his future power, which i judge a matter not superfluous to run over; because i should not well know, what better rules i might give to a new prince, than the pattern of his actions; and however the courses he took, availd him not, yet was it not his fault, but it proceeded from an extraordinary and extream malignity of fortune. pope alexander the sixt, desiring to make the duke his son a great man, had a great many difficulties, present and future: first he saw no way there was whereby he might be able to make him lord of any state, that was not the churches; and if he turnd to take that from the church, he knew that the duke of milan, and the venetians would never agree to it; for faenza and riminum were under the venetians protection. moreover, he saw that the armes of italy, and those whereof in particular he might have been able to make some use, were in their hands, who ought to fear the popes greatness; and therefore could not any wayes rely upon them: being all in the orsins and colonies hands, and those of their faction. it was necessary then, that those matters thus appointed by them should be disturbed, and the states of italy disordered, to be able safely to master part of them, which he then found easie to do, seeing the venetians upon three considerations had us'd the means to bring the french men back again into italy: which he not only did not withstand, but furthered, with a resolution of king lewis his ancient marriage. the king then past into italy with the venetians ayd, and alexanders consent; nor was he sooner arrived in milan, than the pope had soldiers from him for the service of romania, which was quickly yeelded up to him upon the reputation of the kings forces. the duke then having made himself master of romania, and beaten the colonies, desiring to hold it, and proceed forward, two things hindered him: the one, his own soldiers, which he thought were not true to him; the other, the french mens good wills; that is to say, he feared that the princes soldiers, whereof he had served himself, would fail him, and not only hinder his conquest, but take from him what he had gotten; and that the king also would serve him the same turn. he had experience of the orsini upon an occasion, when after the taking of faenza he assaulted bolonia, to which assault he saw them go very cold. and touching the king, he discovered his mind, when having taken the dutchy of urbin, he invaded tuscany; from which action the king made him retire; whereupon the duke resolved to depend no more upon fortune, and other mens armes. and the first thing he did, was, to weaken the orsini, and colonnies factions in rome: for he gain'd all their adherents that were gentlemen, giving them large allowances, and honoring them according to their qualities with charges and governments; so that in a few months the good will they bare to the parties was quite extinguisht, and wholly bent to the duke. after this, he waited an occasion to root out the orsini, having before dispersed those of the family of colonnia, which fell out well to his hand; and he us'd it better. for the orsini being too late aware, that the dukes and the churches greatness was their destruction, held a council together in a dwelling house of theirs in the country adjoyning to perusia. from thence grew the rebellion of urbin, and the troubles of romania, and many other dangers befell the duke, which he overcame all with the help of the french: and having regained his reputation, trusting neither france, nor any forrein forces, to the end he might not be put to make trial of them again, he betook himself to his sleghts; and he knew so well to disguise his intention, that the orsins, by the mediation of paul orsine, were reconciled to him, to whom the duke was no way wanting in all manner of courtesies whereby to bring them into security, giving them rich garments, money, and horses, til their own simplicities led them all to sinigallia, into his hands. these heads being then pluck'd off, and their partisans made his friends; the duke had laid very good foundations, to build his own greatness on, having in his power all romania with the dutchy of urbin, and gained the hearts of those people, by beginning to give them some relish of their well being. and because this part is worthy to be taken notice of, and to be imitated by others, i will not let it escape. the duke, when he had taken romania, finding it had been under the hands of poor lords who had rather pillag'd their subjects, than chastis'd or amended them, giving them more cause of discord, than of peace and union, so that the whole countrey was fraught with robberies, quarrels, and other sorts of insolencies; thought the best way to reduce them to termes of pacification, and obedience to a princely power, was, to give them some good government: and therefore he set over them one remiro d'orco, a cruel hasty man, to whom he gave an absolute power. this man in a very short time setled peace and union amongst them with very great reputation. afterwards the duke thought such excessive authority serv'd not so well to his purpose, and doubting it would grow odious, he erected a civil judicature in the midst of the countrey, where one excellent judge did preside, and thither every city sent their advocate: and because he knew the rigors past had bred some hatred against him, to purge the minds of those people, and to gain them wholly to himself, he purpos'd to shew, that if there was any cruelty used, it proceeded not from any order of his, but from the harsh disposition of his officers. whereupon laying hold on him, at this occasion, he caus'd his head to be struck off one morning early in the market place at cesena, where he was left upon a gibbet, with a bloody sword by his side; the cruelty of which spectacle for a while satisfied and amaz'd those people. but to return from whence we have digressd: i say, that the duke finding himself very strong, and in part out of doubt of the present dangers, because he was arm'd after his own manner, and had in some good measure suppress'd those forces, which, because of their vicinity, were able to annoy him, he wanted nothing else to go on with his conquest, but the consideration of france: for he knew, that the king, who now, though late, was advis'd of his error, would never suffer him: and hereupon he began to seek after new allyances, and to waver with france, when the french came towards naples against the spaniards, who then besieged gagetta; and his design was only to be out of their danger, which had been effected for him, had pope alexander lived. and thus were his businesses carried touching his present estate. as for the future, he had reason to doubt lest the new successor to the papacy would not be his friend, and would endeavor to take that from him that alexander had bestowed on him; and he thought to provide for this foure waies: first by rooting out the races of all those lords he had dispoyled, whereby to take those occasions from the pope. secondly, by gaining all the gentlemen of rome, whereby he might be able with those to keep the pope in some awe. thirdly, to make the colledge of cardinals as much at his devotion as possibly might be. fourthly, by making of so large conquests, before the popes death, as that he might be able of himself to withstand the first fury of his enemies. three of these fowre at pope alexanders death he had effected, and the fourth he had neare brought to a point. for of those lords he had stript, he put to death as many as he could come at, and very few escap'd him: he gaind him the roman gentlemen: and in the colledge he had made a great faction. and touching his new conquest, he had a designe to become lord of tuscany. and he had possessed himself already of perusia, and pombin, and taken protection of pisa: and so soon as he should have cast off his respect to france (which now he meant to hold no longer) being the french were now driven out of the kingdome of naples by the spaniards, so that each of them was forc'd to buy his friendship at any termes; he was then to leap into pisa. after this lucca and siena were presently to fall to him, partly for envy to the florentines, and partly for fear. the florentines had no way to escape him: all which, had it succeeded with him, as without question it had, the very same year that alexander dy'd, he had made himself master of so great forces, and such reputation, that he would have been able to have stood upon his own bottom, without any dependance of fortune, or resting upon others helps, but only upon his own strength and valor. but alexander dy'd five years after that he had begun to draw forth his sword: and left him setled only in the state of romania, with all his other designes in the ayre, sick unto death, between two very strong armies of his enemies; and yet was there in this duke such a spirit and courage; and he understood so well, how men are to be gaind, and how to be lost, and so firm were the grounds he had laid in a short time, that, had he not had those armies upon his back, or had been in health, he would have carried through his purpose in spight of all opposition; and that the foundations he grounded upon were good, it appeard in that romania held for him above a moneth, and he remained secure in rome, though even at deaths doore: and however the baglioni, vitelli, and orsini came into rome; yet found they none would take their parts against him. and this he was able to have effected, that if he could not have made him pope whom be would, he could have hindred him that he would not should be pope. but had he been in health when alexander dy'd, every thing had gone easily with him; and he told me on that day that julius the second was created pope, that he had fore-thought on all that which could happen, in case his father chanc'd to dye, and for every thing provided its remedy, this onely excepted, that he foresaw not that he should at the same time be brought unto deaths dore also. having then collected all the dukes actions, me thinks i could not well blame him, but rather (as i have here done) set him as a pattern to be followed by all those who by fortune and others armes have been exalted to an empire. for he being of great courage, and having lofty designes, could not carry himself otherwise; and the only obstacle of his purposes was the brevity of alexanders life, and his own sickness. whoever therefore deemes it necessary in his entrance into a new principality, to secure himself of his enemies, and gain him friends, to overcome either by force or by cunning, to make himself beloved, or feared of his people, be followed and reverenced by his soldiers, to root out those that can, or owe thee any hurt, to change the ancient orders with new wayes, to be severe, and yet acceptable, magnanimous, and liberall; to extinguish the unfaithfull soldiery, and create new; to maintain to himself the armities of kings and princes, so that they shall either with favor benefit thee, or be wary how to offend thee; cannot find more fresh and lively examples than the actions of this man. he deserves to be found fault withall for the creation of julius the second, wherein an evil choice was made for him: for, as it is said, not being able to make a pope to his mind, he could have withheld any one from being pope; and should never have consented that any one of those cardinals should have got the papacy, whom he had ever done harme to; or who having attaind the pontificate were likely to be afraid of him: because men ordinarily do hurt either for fear, or hatred. those whom he had offended, were among others, he who had the title of st. peter ad vincula, colonna, st. george, and ascanius; all the others that were in possibility of the popedome, were such as might have feard him rather, except the cardinal of roan, and the spaniards; these by reason of their allyance and obligation with him, the other because of the power they had, having the kingdome of france on their party; wherefore the duke above all things should have created a spanyard pope, and in case he could not have done that, he should have agreed that roan should have been, and not st. peter ad vincula. and whoever beleeves, that with great personages new benefits blot on the remembrance of old injuries, is much deceiv'd. the duke therefore in this election, was the cause of his own ruine at last. till wee come to this seaventh chapter, i find not any thing much blame-worthy, unlesse it be on ground he layes in the second chapter; whereupon hee builds most of this fabrick, viz. that subjects must either be dallyed or flatterd withall, or quite crusht. whereby our author advises his prince to support his authority with two cardinall vertues, dissimulation, and cruelty. he considers not herein that the head is but a member of the body, though the principall; and the end of the parts is the good of the whole. and here he goes against himselfe in the twenty sixt chapter of his rep. . . where hee blames philip of macedon for such courses, terming them very cruell, and against all christian manner of living; and that every man should refuse to be a king, and desire rather to live a private life, than to reigne so much to the ruine of mankind. the life of cæsar borgia, which is here given as a paterne to new princes, we shall find to have been nothing else but a cunning carriage of things so, that he might thereby first deceive and inveigle, and then suppresse all those that could oppose or hinder his ambition. for if you runne over his life, you shall see the father pope alexander the sixt and him, both imbarqued for his advancement, wherein they engag'd the papall authority, and reputation of religion; for faith and conscience these men never knew, though they exacted it of others: there was never promise made, but it was only so farre kept as servd for advantage; liberality was made use of: clemency and cruelty, all alike, as they might serve to worke with their purposes. all was sacrific'd to ambition; no friendship could tye these men, nor any religion: and no marvell: for ambition made them forget both god and man. but see the end of all this cunning: though this cæsar borgia contrived all his businesse so warily, that our author much commends him, and hee had attaind neere the pitch of his hopes, and had provided for each misadventure could befall him its remedy; policy shewd it selefe short-sighted; for hee foresaw not at the time of his fathers death, he himself should bee brought unto deaths doore also. and me thinks this example might have given occasion to our author to confesse, that surely there is a god that ruleth the earth. and many times god cutts off those cunning and mighty men in the hight of their purposes, when they think they have neare surmounted all dangers and difficulties. 'to the intent that the living may know, that the most high ruleth in the kingdome of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will, and setteth up over it the basest of men.' daniel. . . chap. viii concerning those who by wicked meanes have attaind to a principality. but because a man becomes a prince of a private man two wayes, which cannot wholly be attributed either to fortune or vertue, i think not fit to let them passe me: howbeit the one of them may be more largely discoursed upon, where the republicks are treated of. these are, when by some wicked and unlawfull meanes a man rises to the principality; or when a private person by the favour of his fellow citizens becomes prince of his countrey. and speaking of the first manner, it shall be made evident by two examples, the one ancient, the other moderne, without entring otherwise into the justice or merit of this part; for i take it that these are sufficient for any body that is forc'd to follow them. agathocles the sicilian, not of a private man onely, but from a base and abject fortune, got to be king of siracusa. this man borne but of a potter, continued alwayes a wicked life throughout all the degrees of this fortune: neverthelesse he accompanied his lewdnesse with such a courage and resolution, that applying himselfe to military affaires, by the degrees thereof he attained to bee prætour of siracusa, and being setled in that degree, and having determined that he would become prince, and hold that by violence and without obligation to any other, which by consent had been granted him: and to this purpose haveing had some private intelligence touching his designe with amilcar the carthaginian, who was imployd with his army in sicily, one morining gatherd the people together and the senate of syracusa, as if he had some what to advise with them of matters belonging to the commonwealth, and upon a signe given, caus'd his souldiers to kill his senatours, and the richest of the people; who being slaine, he usurp'd the principality of that city without any civill strife: and however he was twice broken by the carthaginians, and at last besieged, was able not onely to defend his own city, but leaving part of his own army at the defence thereof, with the other invaded affrique, and in a short time freed siracusa from the siege, and brought the carthaginians into extreme necessity, who were constraind to accord with him, be contented with the possession of affrique, and quitt sicily to agathocles. he then that should consider the actions and valour of this man, would not see any, or very few things to be attributed unto fortune; seeing that as is formerly sayd, not by any ones favour, but by the degrees of service in warre with many sufferings and dangers, to which he had risen, he came to the principality; and that hee maintained afterwards with so many resolute and hazardous undertakings. yet cannot this be term'd vertue or valour to slay his own citizens, betray his friends, to be without faith, without pitty, without religion, which wayes are of force to gaine dominion, but not glory: for if agathocles his valour bee well weighd, in his enturing upon, and comming off from dangers, and the greatnesse of his courage, in supporting and mastering of adversities, no man can see why he should be thought any way inferiour even to the ablest captaines. notwithstanding his beastly cruelty and inhumanity with innumerable wickednesses, allow not that he should be celebrated among the most excellent men. that cannot then be attributed to fortune or vertue, which without the one or the other was attaind to by him. in our dayes, while alexander the sixth held the sea, oliverotte of fermo, who some few yeeres before had been left young by his parents, was brought up under the care of an uncle of his on the mothers side, called john foliani, and in the beginning of his youth given, by him to serve in the warres under paulo vitelli: to the end that being well instructed in that discipline, he might rise to some worthy degree in the warrs. afterwards when paulo was dead, he served under vitellozzo his brother, and in very short time, being ingenious, of a good personage, and brave courage, he became one of the prime men among the troops he served in: but thinking it but servile to depend upon another, he plotted by the ayd of some citizens of fermo (who lik'd rather the thraldome of their city than the liberty of it) and by the favour of the vitelli, to make himselfe master of fermo; and writ to john foliani, that having been many yeeres from home, he had a mind to come and see him and the city, and in some part take notice of his own patrimony; and because he had not imployd himselfe but to purchase honour, to the end his citizens might perceive, that he had not vainely spent his time, he had a desire to come in good equipage and accompanied with a hundred horse of his friends and servants; and he intreated him that he would be pleasd so to take order, that he might be honourably received by the inhabitants of fermo, which turnd as well to his honor that was his uncle, as his that was the nephew. in this, john faild not in any office of courtesie due to his nephew: and caused him to be well receivd by them of fermo, and lodged him in his own house: where having passed some dayes, and stayd to put in order somewhat that was necessary for his intended villany, he made a very solemne feast, whether he invited john foliani, and all the prime men of fermo: and when all their chear was ended, and all their other entertainments, as in such feasts it is customary, oliverotto of purpose mov'd some grave discourses; speaking of the greatnesse of pope alexander, and cæsar his son, and their undertakings; where unto john and the others making answer, he of a sudden stood up, saying, that those were things to be spoken of in a more secret place, and so retir'd into a chamber, whether john and all the other citizens followd him; nor were they sooner set downe there, than from some secret place therein camp forth diverse souldiers, who slew john and all the others: after which homicide oliverotto got a horsebacke and ravaged the whole towne, and besieged the supreme magistrate in the palace, so that for feare they were all constraind to obey him, and to settle a government, whereof hee made himselfe prince; and they being all dead who, had they been discontented with him, could have hurt him; he strengthned himselfe with new civill and military orders, so that in the space of a yeer that he held the principality, he was not only secure in the city of fermo, but became fearefull to all his neighbours; and the conquest of him would have prov'd difficult, as that of agathocles, had he not let himselfe been deceivd by cæsar borgia, when at sinigallia, as before was said, he took the orsini and vitelli: where he also being taken a yeere after he had committed the parricide, was strangled together with vitellozzo (whome he had had for master both of his vertues and vices.) some man might doubt from whence it should proceed, that agathocles, and such like, after many treacheries and crueltyes, could possibly live long secure in his own countrey, and defend himselfe from his forrein enemies, and that never any of his own citizens conspir'd against him, seeing that by means of cruelty, many others have never been able even in peaceable times to maintaine their states, much lesse in the doubtfull times of warre. i beleeve that this proceeds from the well, or ill using of those cruelties: they may bee termd well us'd (if it bee lawfull to say well of evill) that are put in practice only once of necessity for securities sake, not insisting therein afterwards; but there is use made of them for the subjects profit, as much as may be. but those that are ill us'd, are such as though they bee but few in the beginning, yet they multiply rather in time, than diminish. they that take that first way, may with the help of god, and mens care, find some remedy for their state, as agathocles did: for the others, it is impossible they should continue. whereupon it is to be noted, that in the laying hold of a state, the usurper thereof ought to runne over and execute all his cruelties at once, that he be not forced often to returne to them, and that he may be able, by not renewing of them, to give men some security, and gaine their affections by doing them some courtesies. hee that carries it otherwise, either for fearefullnesse, or upon evill advice, is alwayes constraind to hold his sword drawne in his hand; nor ever can hee rely upon his subjects, there being no possibility for them, because of his daily and continuall injuries, to live in any safety: for his injuries should bee done altogether, that being seldomer tasted, they might lesse offend; his favours should bee bestowd by little, and little to the end they might keep their taste the better; and above all things a prince must live with his subjects in such sort, that no accident either of good or evill can make him vary: for necessity comming upon him by reason of adversities, thou hast not time given thee to make advantage of thy cruelties; and the favours which then thou bestowest, will little help thee, being taken as if they came from thee perforce, and so yeeld no returne of thanks. chap. ix of the civill principality. but comming to the other part, when a principall citizen, not by villany, or any other insufferable violence, but by the favour of his fellow-citizens becomes prince of his native countrey: which we may terme a civill principality; nor to attaine hereunto is vertue wholly or fortune wholly necessary, but rather a fortunate cunning: i say, this principality is climb'd up to, either by the peoples help, or the great mens. for, in every city we finde these two humours differ; and they spring from this, that the people desire not to be commanded nor oppressed by the great ones, and the great ones are desirous to command and oppresse the people: and from these two several appetites, arise in the city one of these three effects, either a principality, or liberty, or tumultuary licentiousnesse. the principality is caused either by the people, or the great ones, according as the one or other of these factions have the occasion offerd; for the great ones seeing themselves not able to resist the people, begin to turne the whole reputation to one among them, and make him prince, whereby they may under his shadow vent their spleenes. the people also, not being able to support the great mens insolencies, converting the whole reputation to one man, create him their prince, to be protected by his authority. he that comes to the principality by the assistance of the great ones, subsists with more difficulty, than he that attaines to it by the peoples favour; for he being made prince, hath many about him, who account themselves his equalls, and therefore cannot dispose nor command them at his pleasure. but he that gaines the principality by the peoples favor, finds himselfe alone in his throne, and hath none or very few neare him that are not very supple to bend: besides this, the great ones cannot upon easie termes be satisfied, or without doing of wrong to others, where as a small matter contents the people: for the end which the people propound to themselves, is more honest than that of the great men, these desiring to oppresse, they only not to be oppressed. to this may be added also, that the prince which is the peoples enemy, can never well secure himselfe of them, because of their multitude; well may hee bee sure of the nobles, they being but a few. the worst that a prince can look for of the people become his enemy, is to be abandoned by them: but when the great ones once grow his enemies, he is not only to feare their abandoning of him, but their making of a party against him also: for there being in them more forecast and craft, they alwayes take time by the forelocks whereby to save themselves, and seeke credit with him who they hope shall get the mastery. the prince likewise is necessitated alwayes to live with the same people, but can doe well enough without the same great men; he being able to create new ones, and destroy them again every day, and to take from them, and give them credit as he pleases: and to cleare this part, i say, that great men ought to be considerd two wayes principally, that is, if they take thy proceedings so much to heart, as to engage their fortunes wholly in thine, in case they lye not alwayes catching at spoyle, they ought to be well honourd and esteem'd: those that bind themselves not to thy fortune, are to be considerd also two wayes; either they doe it for lack of courage, and naturall want of spirit, and then shouldst thou serve thy selfe of them, and of them especially that are men of good advice; for if thy affaires prosper, thou dost thy selfe honour thereby; if crost, thou needst not feare them: but when they oblige not themselves to thee of purpose, and upon occasion of ambition, it is a signe they think more of themselves than of thee: and of these the prince ought to beware, and account of them as his discoverd enemyes: for alwayes in thy adversity they will give a hand too to ruine thee. therefore ought hee that comes to be prince by the peoples favour, keepe them his friends: which he may easily doe, they desiring only to live free from oppression: but he that becomes prince by the great mens favour, against the will of the people, ought above all things to gaine the people to him, which he may easily effect, when he takes upon him their protection: and because men when they find good, where they look for evill, are thereby more endered to their benefactour, therefore growes the people so pliant in their subjection to him, as if by their favours he had attaind his dignity. and the prince is able to gaine them to his side by many wayes, which because they vary according to the subject, no certaine rule can be given thereupon; wherefore we shall let them passe i will only conclude, that it is necessary for a prince to have the people his friend; otherwise in his adversities he hath no helpe. nabis prince of the spartans supported the siege of all greece, and an exceeding victorious army of the romans, and against those defended his native countrey and state, and this suffic'd him alone, that as the danger came upon him, he secur'd himself of a fewer; whereas if the people had been his enemy, this had nothing availd him. and let no man think to overthrow this my opinion with that common proverb, that he who relyes upon the people, layes his foundation in the dirt; for that is true where a private citizen grounds upon them, making his account that the people shall free him, when either his enemyes or the magistrates oppresse him: in this case he should find himself often deceiv'd, as it befell the gracchyes in rome, and in florence george scali: but he being a prince that grounds thereupon, who can command, and is a man of courage, who hath his wits about him in his adversityes, and wants not other preparations, and holds together the whole multitude animated with his valour and orders, shall not prove deceiv'd by them, and shall find he hath layd good foundations. these principalityes are wont to be upon the point of falling when they goe about to skip from the civil order to the absolute: for these princes either command of themselves, or by the magistrate; in this last case their state is more weak and dangerous, because they stand wholly at the will and pleasure of these citizens, who then are set over the magistrates, who especially in adverse times are able with facility to take their state from them either by rising up against them, or by not obeying them; and then the prince is not at hand in those dangers to take the absolute authority upon him: for the citizens and subjects that are accustomed to receive the commands from the magistrates, are not like in those fractions to obey his: and in doubtfull times he shall alwayes have greatest penury of whom he may trust; for such a prince cannot ground upon that which he sees in peaceable times, when the citizens have need of the state; for then every one runs, and every one promises, and every one will venture his life for him, where there is no danger neare; but in times of hazzard, when the state hath need of citizens, there are but few of them then, and so much the more is this experience dangerous, in that it can be but once made. therefore a prudent prince ought to devise a way whereby his citizens alwayes and in any case and quality of time may have need of his government, and they shall alwaies after prove faithfull to him. chap. x in what manner the forces of all principalities ought to be measured. it is requisite in examining the quality of those principalities, to have another consideration of them, that is, if a prince have such dominions, that he is able in case of necessity to subsist of himself, or else whether he hath alwaies need of another to defend him. and to cleer this point the better, i judge them able to stand of themselves, who are of power either for their multitudes of men, or quantity of money, to bring into the field a compleat armie, and joyn battel with whoever comes to assail them: and so i think those alwaies to stand in need of others help, who are not able to appear in the field against the enemy, but are forc'd to retire within their walls and guard them. touching the first case, we have treated already, and shall adde somwhat thereto as occasion shall require. in the second case, we cannot say other, save only to encourage such princes to fortifie and guard their own capital city, and of the countrey about, not to hold much account; and whoever shall have well fortified that town, and touching other matters of governments shall have behaved himself towards his subjects, as hath been formerly said, and hereafter shall be, shall never be assaild but with great regard; for men willingly undertake not enterprises, where they see difficulty to work them through; nor can much facility be there found, where one assails him, who hath his town strong and wel guarded, and is not hated of his people. the cities of germany are very free; they have but very little of the countrey about them belonging to them; and they obey the emperor, when they please, and they stand not in fear, neither of him nor any other potentate about them: for they are in such a manner fortified, that every one thinks the siege of any of them would prove hard and tedious: for all of them have ditches, and rampires, and good store of artillery, and alwaies have their publick cellars well provided with meat and drink and firing for a yeer: besides this, whereby to feed the common people, and without any loss to the publick, they have alwaies in common whereby they are able for a year to imploy them in the labor of those trades that are the sinews and the life of that city, and of that industry whereby the commons ordinarily supported themselves: they hold up also the military exercises in repute, and hereupon have they many orders to maintain them. a prince then that is master of a good strong city, and causeth not himself to be hated, cannot be assaulted; and in case he were, he that should assail him, would be fain to quit him with shame: for the affairs of the world are so various, that it is almost impossible that an army can lie incampt before a town for the space of a whole yeer: and if any should reply, that the people having their possessions abroad, in case they should see them a fire, would not have patience, and the tedious siege and their love to themselves would make them forget their prince: i answer that a prince puissant and couragious, will easily master those difficulties, now giving his subjects hope, that the mischief will not be of durance; sometimes affright them with the cruelty of their enemies, and other whiles cunningly securing himself of those whom he thinks too forward to run to the enemy. besides this by ordinary reason the enemy should burne and waste their countrey, upon his arrival, and at those times while mens minds are yet warme, and resolute in their defence: and therefore so much the less ought a prince doubt: for after some few dayes, that their courages grow coole, the dammages are all done, and mischiefs received, and there is no help for it, and then have they more occasion to cleave faster to their prince, thinking he is now more bound to them, their houses having for his defence been fired, and their possessions wasted; and mens nature is as well to hold themselves oblig'd for the kindnesses they do, as for those they receive; whereupon if all be well weigh'd, a wise prince shall not find much difficulty to keep sure and true to him his citizens hearts at the beginning and latter end of the siege, when he hath no want of provision for food and ammunition. chap. xi concerning ecclesiastical principalities. there remains now only that we treat of the ecclesiastical principalities, about which all the difficulties are before they are gotten: for they are attained to either by vertue, or fortune; and without the one or the other they are held: for they are maintaind by orders inveterated in the religion, all which are so powerfull and of such nature, that they maintain their princes in their dominions in what manner soever they proceed and live. these only have an estate and defend it not; have subjects and govern them not; and yet their states because undefended, are not taken from them; nor their subjects, though not govern'd, care not, think not, neither are able to aliene themselves from them. these principalities then are only happy and secure: but they being sustained by superior causes, whereunto humane understanding reaches not, i will not meddle with them: for being set up and maintained by god, it would be the part of a presumptuous and rash man to enter into discourse of them. yet if any man should ask me whence it proceeds, that the church in temporal power hath attaind to such greatness, seeing that till the time of alexander the sixt, the italian potentates, and not only they who are entituled the potentates, but every baron and lord though of the meanest condition in regard of the temporality, made but small account of it; and now a king of france trembles at the power thereof; and it hath been able to drive him out of italy, and ruine the venetians; and however this be well known, me thinks it is not superstitious in some part to recall it to memory. before that charles king of france past into italy, this countrey was under the rule of the pope, venetians, the king of naples, the duke of milan, and the florentines. these potentates took two things principally to their care; the one, that no forreiner should invade italy; the other that no one of them should inlarge their state. they, against whom this care was most taken, were the pope and the venetians; and to restrain the venetians, there needed the union of all the rest, as it was in the defence of ferrara; and to keep the pope low, they served themselves of the barons of rome, who being divided into two factions, the orsini and colonnesi, there was alwaies occasion of offence between them, who standing ready with their armes in hand in the view of the pope, held the popedome weak and feeble: and however sometimes there arose a couragious pope, as was sextus; yet either his fortune, or his wisdome was not able to free him of these incommodities, and the brevity of their lives was the cause thereof; for in ten years, which time, one with another, popes ordinarily liv'd, with much ado could they bring low one of the factions. and if, as we may say, one had near put out the colonnesi, there arose another enemy to the orsini, who made them grow again, so that there was never time quite to root them out. this then was the cause, why the popes temporal power was of small esteem in italy; there arose afterwards pope alexander the sixt, who of all the popes that ever were, shewed what a pope was able to do with money and forces: and he effected, by means of his instrument, duke valentine, and by the ocasion of the french mens passage, all those things which i have formerly discoursed upon in the dukes actions: and however his purpose was nothing at all to inlarge the church dominions, but to make the duke great; yet what he did, turnd to the churches advantage, which after his death when the duke was taken away, was the heir of all his pains. afterwards succeeded pope julius, and found the church great, having all romania, and all the barons of rome being quite rooted out, and by alexanders persecutions, all their factions worne down; he found also the way open for the heaping up of moneys, never practised before alexanders time; which things julius not only follow'd, but augmented; and thought to make himself master of bolonia, and extinguish the venetians, and chase the french men out of italy: and these designes of his prov'd all lucky to him, and so much the more to his praise in that he did all for the good of the church, and in no private regard: he kept also the factions of the orsins and colonnesi, in the same state he found them: and though there were among them some head whereby to cause an alteration; yet two things have held them quiet; the one the power of the church, which somewhat affrights them; the other because they have no cardinals of their factions, who are the primary causes of all the troubles amongst them: nor shall these parties ever be at rest, while they have cardinals; because they nourish the factions both in rome, and abroad; and the barons then are forced to undertake the defence of them: and thus from the prelates ambitions arise the discords and tumults among the barons. and now hath pope leo his holiness found the popedome exceeding puissant, of whom it is hoped, that if they amplified it by armes, he by his goodness, and infinite other vertues, will much more advantage and dignifie it. chap. xii how many sorts of military discipline there are and touching mercenary soldiers. having treated particularly of the qualities of those principalities, which in the beginning i propounded to discourse upon, and considered in some part the reasons of their well and ill being, and shewd the waies whereby many have sought to gain, and hold them, it remains now that i speak in general of the offences and defences, that may chance in each of the forenamed. we have formerly said that it is necessary for a prince to have good foundations laid; otherwise it must needs be that he go to wrack. the principal foundations that all states have, as well new, as old, or mixt, are good laws, and good armes; and because there cannot be good laws, where there are not good armes; and where there are good armes, there must needs be good laws, i will omit to discourse of the laws, and speak of armes. i say then that the armes, wherewithall a prince defends his state, either are his own, or mercenary, or auxiliary, or mixt. those that are mercenary and auxiliar, are unprofitable, and dangerous, and if any one holds his state founded upon mercenary armes, he shall never be quiet, nor secure, because they are never well united, ambitious, and without discipline, treacherous, among their friends stour, among their enemies cowardly; they have no fear of god, nor keep any faith with men; and so long only defer they the doing of mischief, till the enemy comes to assul thee; and in time of peace thou art despoyled by them, in war by thy enemies: the reason hereof is, because they have no other love, nor other cause to keep them in the field, but only a small stipend, which is not of force to make them willing to hazard their lives for thee: they are willing indeed to be thy soldiers, till thou goest to fight; but then they fly, or run away; which thing would cost me but small pains to perswade; for the ruine of italy hath not had any other cause now a dayes, than for that it hath these many years rely'd upon mercenary armes; which a good while since perhaps may have done some man some service, and among themselves they may have been thought valiant: but so soon as any forrein enemy appeared, they quickly shewed what they were. whereupon charles the king of france, without opposition, made himself master of all italy: and he that said, that the causes thereof were our faults, said true; but these were not those they beleeved, but what i have told; and because they were the princes faults, they also have suffered the punishment. i will fuller shew the infelicity of these armes. the mercenary captains are either very able men, or not: if they be, thou canst not repose any trust in them: for they will alwaies aspire unto their own proper advancements, either by suppressing of thee that art their lord, or by suppressing of some one else quite out of thy purpose: but if the captain be not valorous, he ordinarily ruines thee: and in case it be answered, that whoever shall have his armes in his hands, whether mercenary or not, will do so: i would reply, that armes are to be imployed either by a prince, or common-wealth. the prince ought to go in person, and performe the office of a commander: the republick is to send forth her citizens: and when she sends forth one that proves not of abilities, she ought to change him then; and when he does prove valorous, to bridle him so by the laws, that he exceed not his commission. and by experience we see, that princes and republiques of themselves alone, make very great conquests; but that mercenary armes never do other than harme; and more hardly falls a republick armed with her own armes under the obedience of one of her own citizens, than one that is armed by forrein armes. rome and sparta subsisted many ages armed and free. the swissers are exceedingly well armed, and yet very free. touching mercenary armes that were of old, we have an example of the carthagians, who near upon were oppress'd by their own mercenary soldiers, when the first war with the romans was finished; however the carthagians had their own citizens for their captains. philip of macedon was made by the thebans after epaminondas his death, general of their armies; and after the victory, he took from them liberty. the milaneses when duke philip was dead, entertaind francis sforza into their pay against the venetians, who having vanquisht their enemie at caravaggio, afterwards joyned with them, where by to usurp upon the milaneses his masters. sforza his father, being in joan the queen of naples pay, left her on a sudden disarmed; whereupon she, to save her kingdom, was constraind to cast her self into the king of arrragon's bosome. and in case the venetians and the florentines have formerly augmented their state with these kind of armes, and their own captains, and yet none of them have ever made themselves their princes, but rather defended them: i answer, that the florentines in this case have had fortune much their friend: for of valorous captains, which they might any way fear, some have not been victors, some have had opposition, and others have laid the aim of their ambitions another way. he who overcame not, was john aouto, of whose faith there could no proof be made, being he vanquisht not; but every one will acknowledge, that, had he vanquisht, the florentines were at his discretion. sforza had alwaies the bracceschi for his adversaries, so that they were as a guard one upon another. francis converted all his ambition against lombardy. braccio against the church, and the kingdome of naples. but let us come to that which followed a while agoe. the florentines made paul vitelli their general, a throughly advis'd man, and who from a private fortune had rose to very great reputation: had he taken pisa, no man will deny but that the florentines must have held fast with him; for had he been entertained in their enemies pay, they had no remedy; and they themselves holding of him, of force were to obey him. the venetians, if we consider their proceedings, we shall see wrought both warily and gloriously, while themselves made war, which was before their undertakings by land, where the gentlemen with their own commons in armes behav'd themselves bravely: but when they began to fight by land, they lost their valor, and follow'd the customes of italy; and in the beginning of their enlargement by land, because they had not much territory, and yet were of great reputation, they had not much cause to fear their captains; but as they began to extend their bounds, which was under their commander carminiola, they had a taste of this error: for perceiving he was exceeding valorous, having under his conduct beaten the duke of milan; and knowing on the other side, how he was cold in the war, they judg'd that they could not make any great conquest with him; and because they neither would, nor could cashier him, that they might not lose what they had gotten, they were forced for their own safeties to put him to death. since they have had for their general bartholomew of berganio, robert of st. severin, the count of petilian, and such like: whereby they were to fear their losses, as well as to hope for gain: as it fell out afterwards at vayla, where in one day they lost that, which with so much pains they had gotten in eight hundred years: for from these kind of armes grow slack and slow and weak gains; but sudden and wonderfull losses: and because i am now come with these examples into italy, which now these many years, have been governd by mercenary armes, i will search deeper into them, to the end that their course and progress being better discoverd, they may be the better amended. you have to understand, that so soon as in these later times the yoak of the italian empire began to be shaken off, and the pope had gotten reputation in the temporality, italy was divided into several states: for many of the great cities took armes against their nobility; who under the emperors protection had held them in oppression; and the pope favored these, whereby he might get himself reputation, in the temporality; of many others, their citizens became princes, so that hereupon italy being come into the churches hands as it were, and some few republicks, those priests and citizens not accustomed to the use of armes, began to take strangers to their pay. the first that gave reputation to these soldiers was alberick of como in romania. from his discipline among others descended brachio and sforza, who in their time were the arbitres of italy; after these followed all others, who even till our dayes have commanded the armes of italy; and the success of their valor hath been, that it was overrun by charles, pillaged by lewis, forc'd by ferdinand, and disgrac'd by the swissers. the order which they have held, hath been, first whereby to give reputation to their own armes to take away the credit of the infantry. this they did, because they having no state of their own, but living upon their industry, their few foot gave them no reputation, and many they were not able to maintain; whereupon they reduc'd themselves to cavalery, and so with a supportable number they were entertained and honored: and matters were brought to such termes, that in an army of twenty thousand soldiers you should not find two thousand foot. they had moreover us'd all industry to free themselves and their soldiers of all pains and fear, in their skirmishes, not killing, but taking one another prisoners, and without ransome for their freedom; they repaired not all to their tents by night, nor made palizado or trench thereabout, nor lay in the field in the summer: and all these things were thus contrived and agreed of among them in their military orders, whereby (as is said) to avoid pains and dangers, insomuch as they have brought italy into slavery and disgrace. chap. xiii of auxiliary soldiers, mixt, and native. the auxiliary forces, being the other kind of unprofitable armes, are, when any puissant one is called in, who with his forces comes to assist and defend thee; such as in these later times did pope julius use, who having seen the evil proof of his mercenary soldiers in the enterprize of ferrara, applied himself to the auxiliaries, and agreed with ferdinand king of spain, that with his forces he should aid him. these armes may be profitable and advantagious for themselves; but for him that calls them in, hurtfull; because in losing, thou art left defeated; and conquering, thou becomest their prisoner. and however that of these examples the ancient stories are full fraught; yet will i not part from this of pope julius the second, which is as yet fresh: whose course could not have been more inconsiderate, for the desire he had to get ferrara, putting himself wholly into strangers hands: but his good fortune caused another cause to arise, that hindred him from receiving the fruit of his evil choice; for his auxiliaries being broken at ravenna, and the swissers thereupon arriving, who put the conquerors to flight beyond all opinion, even their own and others, he chanced not to remain his enemies prisoner, they being put to flight, nor prisoner to his auxiliaries, having vanquished by other forces than theirs. the florentines being wholly disarmed, brought ten thousand french to pisa for to take it: by which course they ran more hazzard, than in any time of their troubles. the emperor of constantinople, to oppress his neighbors, brought into greece ten thousand turks, who when the war was ended, could not be got out thence, which was the beginning of greeces servitude under the infidels. he then that will in no case be able to overcome, let him serve himself of these armes; for they are much more dangerous than the mercenaries; for by those thy ruine is more suddenly executed; for they are all united, and all bent to the obedience of another. but for the mercenaries to hurt thee, when they have vanquished, there is no more need of time, and greater occasion, they not being all united in a body, and being found out and paid by thee, wherein a third that thou mak'st their head, cannot suddenly gaine so great authority, that he can endammage thee. in summe, in the mercenaries their sloth and lazinesse to fight is more dangerous: in the auxiliaries their valour. wherefore a wise prince hath alwayes avoyded these kind of armes, and betaken himselfe to his owne, and desired rather to loss with his owne, than conquer with anothers, accounting that not a true victorie which was gotten with others armes. i will not doubt to alleadge cæsar borgia, and his actions. this duke entred into romania with auxiliarie armes, bringing with him all french souldiers: but afterwards not accounting those armes secure, bent himselfe to mercenaries, judging lesse danger to be in those, and tooke in pay the orsini and the vitelli, which afterwards in the proof of them, finding wavering, unfaithful, and dangerous, he extinguishd, and betook himselfe to his owne; and it may easily be perceiv'd what difference there is between the one and the other of these armes, considering the difference that was between the dukes reputation, when he had the french men alone, and when he had the orsini and vitelli; but when he remaind with his own, and stood of himselfe, we shall find it was much augmented: nor ever was it of grate esteeme, but when every one saw, that he wholly possessed his owne armes. i thought not to have parted from the italian examples of late memory; but that i must not let passe that of hiero the siracusan, being one of those i formerly nam'd. this man (as i said before) being made general of the siracusans forces, knew presently that mercenary souldiery was nothing for their profit in that they were hirelings, as our italians are; and finding no way either to hold, or cashier them made them all bee cut to peeces, and afterwards waged warre with his owne men, and none others. i will also call to memory a figure of the old testament serving just to this purpose. when david presented himselfe before saul to goe to fight with goliah the philistins champion, saul to encourage him, clad him with his owne armes, which david when he had them upon back, refused, saying, he was not able to make any proofe of himself therein, and therefore would goe meet the enemy with his own sling and sword. in summe, others armes either fall from thy shoulders, or cumber or streighten thee. charls the seventh, father of lewis the eleventh, having by his good fortune and valour set france at liberty from the english, knew well this necessity of being arm'd with his owne armes, and settled in his kingdome the ordinances of men at armes, and infantry. afterwards king lewis his sonne abolisht those of the infantry, and began to take the swissers to pay; which errour follow'd by the others, is (as now indeed it appeares) the cause of that kingdomes dangers. for having given reputation to the swissers, they have renderd all their own armes contemptible; for this hath wholly ruind their foot, and oblig'd their men at armes to forrein armes: for being accustomed to serve with the swissers, they think they are not able to overcome without them. from whence it comes that the french are not of force against the swissers, and without them also against others they use not to adventure. therefore are the french armies mixt, part mercenaries, and part natives, which armes are farre better than the simple mercenaries or simple auxiliaries, and much inferiour to the natives; and let the said example suffice for that: for the kingdome of france would have been unconquerable, if charles his order had been augmented and maintaind: but men in their small wisdome begin a thing, which then because it hath some favour of good, discovers not the poyson that lurkes thereunder, as i before said of the hectick feavers. wherefore that prince which perceives not mischiefes, but as they grow up, is not truely wise; and this is given but to few: and if we consider the first ruine of the romane empire, we shall find it was from taking the goths first into their pay; for from that beginning the forces of the romane empire began to grow weak, and all the valour that was taken hence was given to them. i conclude then that without having armes of their owne, no principality can be secure, or rather is wholly oblig'd to fortune, not having valour to shelter it in adversity. and it was alwayes the opinion and saying of wise men, that nothing is so weak and unsetled, as is the reputation of power not founded upon ones owne proper forces: which are those that are composed of thy subjects, or citizens, or servants; all the rest are mercenary or auxiliary; and the manner how to order those well, is easie to find out, if those orders above nam'd by me, shall be but run over, and if it shall be but consider'd, how philip alexander the great his father, and in what manner many republicks and princes have armd and appointed themselves, to which appointments i referre my selfe wholly. chap. xiv what belongs to the prince touching military discipline. a prince then ought to have no other ayme, nor other thought, nor take any thing else for his proper art, but warr, and the orders and discipline thereof: for that is the sole arte which belongs to him that commands, and is of so great excellency, that not only those that are borne princes, it maintains so; but many times raises men from a private fortune to that dignity. and it is seene by the contrary, that when princes have given themselves more to their delights, than to the warres, they have lost their states; and the first cause that makes thee lose it, is the neglect of that arte; and the cause that makes thee gaine it, is that thou art experienc'd and approvd in that arte. francis sforza by being a man at armes, of a private man became duke of milan; and his sons by excusing themselves of the troubles and paines belonging to those imployments of princes, became private men. for among other mischiefes thy neglect of armes brings upon thee, it causes thee to be contemnd, which is one of those disgraces, from which a prince ought to keepe himselfe, as hereafter shall be sayd: for from one that is disarmd to one that is armd there is no proportion; and reason will not, that he who is in armes, should willingly yeeld obedience to him that is unfurnishd of them, and that he that is disarmd should be in security among his armed vassalls; for there being disdaine in the one, and suspicion in the other, it is impossible these should ever well cooperate. and therefore a prince who is quite unexperienced in matter of warre, besides the other infelicities belonging to him, as is said, cannot be had in any esteeme among his souldiers, nor yet trust in them. wherefore he ought never to neglect the practice of the arte of warre, and in time of peace should he exercise it more than in the warre; which he may be able to doe two wayes; the one practically, and in his labours and recreations of his body, the other theoretically. and touching the practick part, he ought besides the keeping of his own subjects well traind up in the discipline and exercise of armes, give himselfe much to the chase, whereby to accustome his body to paines, and partly to understand the manner of situations, and to know how the mountaines arise, which way the vallyes open themselves, and how the plaines are distended flat abroad, and to conceive well the nature of the rivers, and marrish ground, and herein to bestow very much care, which knowledge is profitable in two kinds: first he learnes thereby to know his own countrey, and is the better enabled to understand the defence thereof, and afterwards by meanes of this knowledge and experience in these situations, easily comprehends any other situation, which a new he hath need to view, for the little hillocks, vallies, plaines, rivers, and marrish places. for example, they in tuscany are like unto those of other countries: so that from the knowledge of the site of one country, it is easie to attain to know that of others. and that prince that wants this skill, failes of the principall part a commander should be furnisht with; for this shows the way how to discover the enemy, to pitch the camp, to lead their armies, to order their battells, and also to besiege a town at thy best advantage, philopomenes prince of the achayans, among other praises writers give him, they say, that in time of peace, he thought not upon any thing so much as the practise of warre; and whensoever he was abroad in the field to disport himselfe with his friends, would often stand still, and discourse with them, in case the enemies were upon the top of that hill, and we here with our army, whether of us two should have the advantage, and how might we safely goe to find them, keeping still our orders; and if we would retire our selves, what course should we take if they retir'd, how should we follow them? and thus on the way, propounded them all such accidents could befall in any army; would heare their opinions, and tell his owne, and confirme it by argument; so that by his continuall thought hereupon, when ever he led any army no chance could happen, for which he had not a remedy. but touching the exercise of the mind, a prince ought to read histories, and in them consider the actions of the worthiest men, marke how they have behav'd themselves in the warrs, examine the occasions of their victories, and their losses; wherby they may be able to avoyd these, and obtaine those; and above all, doe as formerly some excellent man hath done, who hath taken upon him to imitate, if any one that hath gone before him hath left his memory glorious; the course he took, and kept alwaies near unto him the remembrances of his actions and worthy deeds: as it is said, that alexander the great imitated achilles; cæsar alexander, and scipio cyrus. and whoever reads the life of cyrus, written by xenophon, may easily perceive afterwards in scipio's life how much glory his imitation gaind him, and how much scipio did conforme himselfe in his chastity, affability, humanity, and liberality with those things, that are written by xenophon of cyrus. such like wayes ought a wise prince to take, nor ever be idle in quiet times, but by his paines then, as it were provide himself of store, whereof he may make some use in his adversity, the end that when the times change, he may be able to resist the stormes of his hard fortune. chap. xv of those things, in respect whereof, men, and especially princes, are praised, or dispraised. it now remaines that we consider what the conditions of a prince ought to be, and his termes of government over his subjects, and towards his friends. and because i know that many have written hereupon; i doubt, lest i venturing also to treat thereof, may be branded with presumption, especially seeing i am like enough to deliver an opinion different from others. but my intent being to write for the advantage of him that understands me, i thought it fitter to follow the effectuall truth of the matter, than the imagination thereof; and many principalities and republiques, have been in imagination, which neither have been seen nor knowne to be indeed: for there is such a distance between how men doe live, and how men ought to live; that he who leaves that which is done, for that which ought to be done, learnes sooner his ruine than his preservation; for that man who will professe honesty in all his actions, must needs goe to ruine among so many that are dishonest. whereupon it is necessary for a prince, desiring to preserve himselfe, to be able to make use of that honestie, and to lay it aside againe, as need shall require. passing by then things that are only in imagination belonging to a prince, to discourse upon those that are really true; i say that all men, whensoever mention is made of them, and especially princes, because they are placed aloft in the view of all, are taken notice of for some of these qualities, which procure them either commendations or blame: and this is that some one is held liberal, some miserable, (miserable i say, nor covetous; for the covetous desire to have, though it were by rapine; but a miserable man is he, that too much for bears to make use of his owne) some free givers, others extortioners; some cruell, others pitious; the one a leaguebreaker, another faithfull; the one effeminate and of small courage, the other fierce and couragious; the one courteous, the other proud; the one lascivious, the other chaste; the one of faire dealing, the other wily and crafty; the one hard, the other easie; the one grave, the other light; the one religious, the other incredulous, and such like. i know that every one will confesse, it were exceedingly praise worthy for a prince to be adorned with all these above nam'd qualities that are good: but because this is not possible, nor doe humane conditions admit such perfection in vertues, it is necessary for him to be so discret, that he know how to avoid the infamie of those vices which would thrust him out of his state; and if it be possible, beware of those also which are not able to remove him thence; but where it cannot be, let them passe with lesse regard. and yet, let him not stand much upon it, though he incurre the infamie of those vices, without which he can very hardly save his state: for if all be throughly considerd, some thing we shall find which will have the colour and very face of vertue, and following them, they will lead the to thy destruction; whereas some others that shall as much seeme vice, if we take the course they lead us, shall discover unto us the way to our safety and well-being. the second blemish in this our authours book, i find in his fifteenth chapter: where he instructs his prince to use such an ambidexterity as that he may serve himselfe either of vertue, or vice, according to his advantage, which in true pollicy is neither good in attaining the principality nor in securing it when it is attaind. for politicks, presuppose ethiques, which will never allow this rule: as that a man might make this small difference between vertue, and vice, that he may indifferently lay aside, or take up the one or the other, and put it in practise as best conduceth to the end he propounds himselfe. i doubt our authour would have blamd davids regard to saul when sam. . in the cave he cut off the lap of sauls garment, and spared his head; and afterwards in the . when he forbad abishai to strike him as he lay sleeping. worthy of a princes consideration is that saying of abigal to david sam. . . 'it shall come to passe when the lord shall have done to my lord according to all that he hath spoken concerning thee, and shall have appointed thee ruler over israel, that this shall be no grief to thee, nor offence of heart unto my lord, that thou hast forborne to shed blood, etc.' for surely the conscience of this evill ground whereupon they have either built, or underpropped their tyranny, causes men, as well _metus_ as _spes in longum projicere_, which sets them a work on further mischiefe. chap. xvi of liberality, and miserablenesse. beginning then at the first of the above mentioned qualities, i say that it would be very well to be accounted liberall: neverthelesse, liberality used in such a manner, as to make thee be accounted so, wrongs thee: for in case it be used vertuously, and as it ought to be, it shall never come to be taken notice of, so as to free thee from the infamie of its contrary. and therefore for one to hold the name of liberal among men, it were needfull not to omit any sumptuous quality, insomuch that a prince alwayes so dispos'd, shall waste all his revenues, and at the end shall be forc'd, if he will still maintaine that reputation of liberality, heavily to burthen his subjects, and become a great exactour; and put in practise all those things that can be done to get mony: which begins to make him hatefull to his subjects, and fall into every ones contempt, growing necessitous: so that having with this liberality wrong'd many, and imparted of his bounty but to a few; he feels every first mischance, and runs a hazard of every first danger: which he knowing, and desiring to withdraw himself from, incurs presently the disgrace of being termed miserable. a prince therefore not being able to use this vertue of liberality, without his own damage, in such a sort, that it may be taken notice of, ought, if he be wise, not to regard the name of miserable; for in time he shall alwaies be esteemed the more liberal, seeing that by his parsimony his own revenues are sufficient for him; as also he can defend himself against whoever makes war against him, and can do some exploits without grieving his subjects: so that he comes to use his liberality to all those, from whom he takes nothing, who are infinite in number; and his miserableness towards those to whom he gives nothing, who are but a few. in our dayes we have not seen any, but those who have been held miserable, do any great matters; but the others all quite ruin'd. pope julius the second, however he serv'd himself of the name of liberal, to get the papacy, yet never intended he to continue it, to the end he might be able to make war against the king of france: and he made so many wars without imposing any extraordinary tax, because his long thrift supplyed his large expences. this present king of spain could never have undertaken, nor gone through with so many exploits, had he been accounted liberal. wherefore a prince ought little to regard (that he may not be driven to pillage his subjects, that he may be able to defend himself, that he may not fall into poverty and contempt, that he be not forced to become an extortioner) though he incurre the name of miserable; for this is one of those vices, which does not pluck him from his throne. and if any one should say, cæsar by his liberality obtained the empire, and many others (because they both were, and were esteemd liberal) attaind to exceeding great dignities. i answer, either thou art already come to be a prince, or thou art in the way to it; in the first case, this liberality is hurtful; in the second, it is necessary to be accounted so; and cæsar was one of those that aspired to the principality of rome. but if after he had gotten it, he had survived, and not forborne those expences, he would quite have ruined that empire. and if any one should reply; many have been princes, and with their armies have done great exploits, who have been held very liberal. i answer, either the prince spends of his own and his subjects, or that which belongs to others: in the first, he ought to be sparing; in the second, he should not omit any part of liberality. and that prince that goes abroad with his army, and feeds upon prey, and spoyle, and tributes, and hath the disposing of that which belongs to others, necessarily should use this liberality; otherwise would his soldiers never follow him; and of that which is neither thine, nor thy subjects, thou mayest well be a free giver, as were cyrus, cæsar and alexander; for the spending of that which is anothers, takes not away thy reputation, but rather adds to it, only the wasting of that which is thine own hurts thee; nor is there any thing consumes itself so much as liberality, which whilest thou usest, thou losest the means to make use of it, and becomest poore and abject; or to avoid this poverty, an extortioner and hatefull person. and among all those things which a prince ought to beware of is, to be dispised, and odious; to one and the other of which, liberality brings thee. wherefore there is more discretion to hold the stile of miserable, which begets an infamy without hatred, than to desire that of liberal, whereby to incurre the necessity of being thought an extortioner, which procures an infamy with hatred. chap. xvii of cruelty, and clemency, and whether it is better to be belov'd, or feard. descending afterwards unto the other fore-alledged qualities, i say, that every prince should desire to be held pitiful, and not cruel. nevertheless ought he beware that he ill uses not this pitty. cæsar borgia was accounted cruel, yet had his cruelty redrest the disorders in romania, setled it in union, and restored it to peace, and fidelity: which, if it be well weighed, we shall see was an act of more pitty, than that of the people of florence, who to avoyd the terme of cruelty, suffered pistoya to fall to destruction. wherefore a prince ought not to regard the infamy of cruelty, for to hold his subjects united and faithfull: for by giving a very few proofes of himself the other way, he shall be held more pittiful than they, who through their too much pitty, suffer disorders to follow, from whence arise murthers and rapines: for these are wont to hurt an intire universality, whereas the executions practised by a prince, hurt only some particular. and among all sorts of princes, it is impossible for a new prince to avoyd the name of cruel, because all new states are full of dangers: whereupon virgil by the mouth of dido excuses the inhumanity of her kingdom, saying, _res dura et regni novitas me talia cogunt moliri et latè fines custode tenere._ my hard plight and new state force me to guard my confines all about with watch and ward. nevertheless ought he to be judicious in his giving belief to any thing, or moving himself thereat, nor make his people extreamly afraid of him; but proceed in a moderate way with wisdome, and humanity, that his too much confidence make him not unwary, and his too much distrust intolerable; from hence arises a dispute, whether it is better to be belov'd or feard: i answer, a man would wish he might be the one and the other: but because hardly can they subsist both together, it is much safer to be feard, than be loved; being that one of the two must needs fail; for touching men, we may say this in general, they are unthankful, unconstant, dissemblers, they avoyd dangers, and are covetous of gain; and whilest thou doest them good, they are wholly thine; their blood, their fortunes, lives and children are at thy service, as is said before, when the danger is remote; but when it approaches, they revolt. and that prince who wholly relies upon their words, unfurnished of all other preparations, goes to wrack: for the friendships that are gotten with rewards, and not by the magnificence and worth of the mind, are dearly bought indeed; but they will neither keep long, nor serve well in time of need: and men do less regard to offend one that is supported by love, than by fear. for love is held by a certainty of obligation, which because men are mischievous, is broken upon any occasion of their own profit. but fear restrains with a dread of punishment which never forsakes a man. yet ought a prince cause himself to be belov'd in such a manner, that if he gains not love, he may avoid hatred: for it may well stand together, that a man may be feard and not hated; which shall never fail, if he abstain from his subjects goods, and their wives; and whensoever he should be forc'd to proceed against any of their lives, do it when it is to be done upon a just cause, and apparent conviction; but above all things forbeare to lay his hands on other mens goods; for men forget sooner the death of their father, than the loss of their patrimony. moreover the occasions of taking from men their goods, do never fail: and alwaies he that begins to live by rapine, finds occasion to lay hold upon other mens goods: but against mens lives, they are seldome found, and sooner fail. but where a prince is abroad in the field with his army, and hath a multitude of soldiers under his government, then is it necessary that he stands not much upon it, though he be termed cruel: for unless he be so, he shall never have his soldiers live in accord one with another, nor ever well disposed to any brave piece of service. among hannibals actions of mervail, this is reckoned for one, that having a very huge army, gathered out of several nations, and all led to serve in a strange countrey, there was never any dissention neither amongst themselves, nor against their general, as well in their bad fortune as their good. which could not proceed from any thing else than from that barbarous cruelty of his, which together with his exceeding many vertues, rendred him to his soldiers both venerable and terrible; without which, to that effect his other vertues had served him to little purpose: and some writers though not of the best advised, on one side admire these his worthy actions, and on the otherside, condemn the principal causes thereof. and that it is true, that his other vertues would not have suffic'd him, we may consider in scipio, the rarest man not only in the dayes he liv'd, but even in the memory of man; from whom his army rebel'd in spain: which grew only upon his too much clemency, which had given way to his soldiers to become more licentious, than was well tollerable by military discipline: for which he was reprov'd by fabius maximus in the senate, who termed him the corrupter of the roman soldiery. the locrensians having been destroyed by a lieutenant of scipio's, were never reveng'd by him, nor the insolence of that lieutenant punisht; all this arising from his easie nature: so that one desiring to excuse him in the senate, said, that there were many men knew better how to keep themselves from faults, than to correct the faults of other men: which disposition of his in time would have wrong'd scipio's reputation and glory, had he therewith continu'd in his commands: but living under the government of the senate, this quality of his that would have disgrac'd him not only was conceal'd, but prov'd to the advancement of his glory. i conclude then, returning to the purpose of being feard, and belov'd; insomuch as men love at their own pleasure, and to serve their own turne, and their fear depends upon the princes pleasure, every wise prince ought to ground upon that which is of himself, and not upon that which is of another: only this, he ought to use his best wits to avoid hatred, as was said. chap. xviii in what manner princes ought to keep their words. how commendable in a prince it is to keep his word, and live with integrity, not making use of cunning and subtlety, every one knows well: yet we see by experience in these our dayes, that those princes have effected great matters, who have made small reckoning of keeping their words, and have known by their craft to turne and wind men about, and in the end, have overcome those who have grounded upon the truth. you must then know, there are two kinds of combating or fighting; the one by right of the laws, the other meerly by force. that first way is proper to men, the other is also common to beasts: but because the first many times suffices not, there is a necessity to make recourse to the second; wherefore it behooves a prince to know how to make good use of that part which belongs to a beast, as well as that which is proper to a man. this part hath been covertly shew'd to princes by ancient writers; who say that achilles and many others of those ancient princes were intrusted to chiron the senator, to be brought up under his discipline: the moral of this, having for their teacher one that was half a beast and half a man, was nothing else, but that it was needful for a prince to understand how to make his advantage of the one and the other nature, because neither could subsist without the other. a prince then being necessitated to know how to make use of that part belonging to a beast, ought to serve himself of the conditions of the fox and the lion; for the lion cannot keep himself from snares, nor the fox defend himself against the wolves. he had need then be a fox, that he may beware of the snares, and a lion that he may scare the wolves. those that stand wholly upon the lion, understand not well themselves. and therefore a wise prince cannot, nor ought not keep his faith given when the observance thereof turnes to disadvantage, and the occasions that made him promise, are past. for if men were all good, this rule would not be allowable; but being they are full of mischief, and would not make it good to thee, neither art thou tyed to keep it with them: nor shall a prince ever want lawfull occasions to give colour to this breach. very many modern examples hereof might be alledg'd, wherein might be shewed how many peaces concluded, and how many promises made, have been violated and broken by the infidelity of princes; and ordinarily things have best succeeded with him that hath been nearest the fox in condition. but it is necessary to understand how to set a good colour upon this disposition, and to be able to fain and dissemble throughly; and men are so simple, and yeeld so much to the present necessities, that he who hath a mind to deceive, shall alwaies find another that will be deceivd. i will not conceal any one of the examples that have been of late. alexander the sixth, never did any thing else than deceive men, and never meant otherwise, and alwaies found whom to work upon; yet never was there man would protest more effectually, nor aver any thing with more solemn oaths, and observe them less than he; nevertheless, his cousenages all thriv'd well with him; for he knew how to play this part cunningly. therefore is there no necessity for a prince to be endued with all above written qualities, but it behooveth well that he seem to be so; or rather i will boldly say this, that having these qualities, and alwaies regulating himself by them, they are hurtfull; but seeming to have them, they are advantageous; as to seem pittiful, faithful, mild, religious, and of integrity, and indeed to be so; provided withall thou beest of such a composition, that if need require to use the contrary, thou canst, and knowest how to apply thy self thereto. and it suffices to conceive this, that a prince, and especially a new prince, cannot observe all those things, for which men are held good; he being often forc'd, for the maintenance of his state, to do contrary to his faith, charity, humanity, and religion: and therefore it behooves him to have a mind so disposd, as to turne and take the advantage of all winds and fortunes; and as formerly i said, not forsake the good, while he can; but to know how to make use of the evil upon necessity. a prince then ought to have a special care, that he never let fall any words, but what are all season'd with the five above written qualities, and let him seem to him that sees and hears him, all pitty, all faith, all integrity, all humanity, all religion; nor is there any thing more necessary for him to seem to have, than this last quality: for all men in general judge thereof, rather by the sight, than by the touch; for every man may come to the sight of him, few come to the touch and feeling of him; yvery man may come to see what thou seemest, few come to perceive and understand what thou art; and those few dare not oppose the opinion of many, who have the majesty of state to protect them: and in all mens actions, especially those of princes wherein there is no judgement to appeale unto men, forbeare to give their censures, till the events and ends of things. let a prince therefore take the surest courses he can to maintain his life and state: the means shall alwaies be thought honorable, and commended by every one; for the vulgar is over-taken with the appearance and event of a thing: and for the most part of people, they are but the vulgar: the others that are but few, take place where the vulgar have no subsisteance. a prince there is in these dayes, whom i shall not do well to name, that preaches nothing else but peace and faith; but had he kept the one and the other, several times had they taken from him his state and reputation. in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth chap, our author descends to particulars, perswading his prince in his sixteenth to such a suppleness of disposition, as that upon occasion he can make use either of liberality or miserableness, as need shall require. but that of liberality is to last no longer than while he is in the way to some designe: which if he well weigh, is not really a reward of vertue, how ere it seems; but a bait and lure to bring birds to the net. in the seventeenth chap, he treats of clemency and cruelty, neither of which are to be exercis'd by him as acts of mercy or justice; but as they may serve to advantage his further purposes. and lest the prince should incline too much to clemency, our author allows rather the restraint by fear, than by love. the contrary to which all stories shew us. i will say this only, cruelty may cut of the power of some, but causes the hatred of all, and gives a will to most to take the first occasion offerd for revenge. in the eighteenth chap, our author discourses how princes ought to govern themselves in keeping their promises made: whereof he sayes they ought to make such small reckoning, as that rather they should know by their craft how to turne and wind men about, whereby to take advantage of all winds and fortunes. to this i would oppose that in the fifteenth psal. v. . he that sweareth to his neighbor, and disappointeth him not, though it were to his own hindrance. it was a king that writ it, and me thinks the rule he gave, should well befit both king and subject: and surely this perswades against all taking of advantages. a man may reduce all the causes of faith-breaking to three heads. one may be, because he that promised, had no intention to keep his word; and this is a wicked and malitious way of dealing. a second may bee, because hee that promisd, repents of his promise made; and that is grounded on unconstancy, and lightness in that he would not be well resolved before he entred into covenant. the third may be, when it so falls out, that it lyes not in his power that made the promise to performe it. in which case a man ought to imitate the good debter, who having not wherewithall to pay, hides not himself, but presents his person to his creditor, willingly suffering imprisonment. the first and second are very vitious and unworthy of a prince: in the third, men might well be directed by the examples of those two famous romans, regulus and posthumius. i shall close this with the answer of charles the fifth, when he was pressed to break his word with luther for his safe return from wormes; _fides rerum promissarum etsi toto mundo exulet, tamen apud imperatorem cam consistere oportet_. though truth be banisht out of the whole world, yet should it alwaies find harbour in an emperors breast. [sidenote: _gulielmus xenocarus_ in vit. car. quinti.] chap. xix that princes should take a care, not to incurre contempt or hatred. but because among the qualities, whereof formerly mention is made, i have spoken of those of most importance, i will treat of the others more briefly under these qualityes that a prince is to beware, as in part is above-said, and that he fly those things which cause him to be odious or vile: and when ever he shall avoid this, he shall fully have plaid his part, and in the other disgraces he shall find no danger at all. there is nothing makes him so odious, as i said, as his extortion of his subjects goods, and abuse of their women, from which he ought to forbear; and so long as he wrongs not his whole people, neither in their goods, nor honors, they live content, and he hath only to strive with the ambition of some few: which many waies and easily too, is restrain'd. to be held various, light, effeminate, faint-hearted, unresolv'd, these make him be contemnd and thought base, which a prince should shun like rocks, and take a care that in all his actions there appear magnanimity, courage, gravity, and valor; and that in all the private affairs of his subjects, he orders it so, that his word stand irrevocable: and maintain himself in such repute, that no man may think either to deceive or wind and turn him about: that prince that gives such an opinion of himself, is much esteemed, and against him who is so well esteemed, hardly are any conspiracies made by his subjects, or by forreiners any invasion, when once notice is taken of his worth, and how much he is reverenced by his subjects: for a prince ought to have two fears, the one from within, in regard of his subjects; the other from abroad, in regard of his mighty neighbors; from these he defends himself by good armes and good friends; and alwayes he shall have good friends, if he have good armes; and all things shall alwaies stand sure at home, when those abroad are firme, in case some conspiracy have not disturbed them; and however the forrein matters stand but ticklishly; yet if he have taken such courses at home, and liv'd as we have prescribed, he shall never be able (in case he forsake not himself) to resist all possibility, force and violence, as i said nabis the spartan did: but touching his subjects, even when his affairs abroad are setled, it is to be fear'd they may conspire privily; from which a prince sufficiently secure himself by shunning to be hated or contemned, and keeping himself in his peoples good opinion, which it is necessary for him to compass, as formerly we treated at large. and one of the powerfullest remedies a prince can have against conspiracies, is, not to be hated nor dispised by the universality; for alwaies he that conspires, beleeves the princes death is acceptable to the subject: but when he thinks it displeases them, he hath not the heart to venture on such a matter; for the difficulties that are on the conspirators side, are infinite. by experience it is plain, that many times plots have been laid, but few of them have succeeded luckily; for he that conspires, cannot be alone, nor can he take the company of any, but of those, who he beleeves are malecontents; and so soon as thou hast discover'd thy self to a malecontent, thou givest him means to work his own content: for by revealing thy treason, he may well hope for all manner of favour: so that seeing his gain certain of one side; and on the other, finding only doubt and danger, either he had need be a rare friend, or that he be an exceeding obstinate enemy to the prince, if he keeps his word with thee. and to reduce this matter into short termes: i say, there is nothing but jealousie, fear, and suspect of punishment on the conspirators part to affright him; but on the princes part, there is the majesty of the principality, the laws, the defences of his friends and the state, which do so guard him, that to all these things the peoples good wills being added, it is unpossible any one should be so head-strong as to conspire; for ordinarily where a traytor is to feare before the execution of his mischiefe, in this case he is also to feare afterwards, having the people for his enemy when the fact is commited, and therefore for this cause, not being able to hope for any refuge. touching this matter, many examples might be brought; but i will content my selfe to name one which fell out in the memory of our fathers. annibal bentivolii, grand father of this annibal who now lives, that was prince in bolonia, being slaine by the canneschi that conspir'd against him, none of his race being left, but this john, who was then in swadling clouts; presently the people rose upon this murder, and slew all the canneschi which proceeded from the popular affection, which the family of the bentivolii held then in bolonia: which was so great, that being there remain'd not any, now anniball was dead, that was able to manage the state; and having notice that in florence there was one borne of the bentivolii, who till then was taken for a smiths sonne: the citizens of bolonia went to florence for him, and gave the government of their city to him, which was rul'd by him, untill john was of fit yeares to governe. i conclude then, that a prince ought to make small account of treasons, whiles he hath the people to friend: but if they be his enemies and hate him, he may well feare every thing, and every one. and well ordered states, and discreet princes have taken care withall diligence, not to cause their great men to fall into desperation, and to content the people, and so to maintaine them: for this is one of the most important businesses belonging to a prince. among the kingdomes that are well orderd and governd in our dayes, is that of france, and therein are found exceeding many good orders, whereupon the kings liberty and security depends: of which the chiefe is the parliament, and the authority thereof: for he that founded that kingdome, knowing the great mens ambition and insolence; and judgeing it necessary there should be a bridle to curbe them; and on the other side knowing the hatred of the commonalty against the great ones, grounded upon feare, intending to secure them, would not lay this care wholly upon the king, but take this trouble from him, which he might have with the great men, in case he favourd the commonalty; or with the commonalty, in case he favourd the great men; and thereupon set up a third judge, which was that, to the end it should keep under the great ones, and favour the meaner sort, without any imputation to the king. it was not possible to take a better, nor wiser course then this; nor a surer way to secure the king, and the kingdome. from whence we may draw another conclusion worthie of note, that princes ought to cause others to take upon them the matters of blame and imputation; and upon themselves to take only those of grace and favour. here againe i conclude, that a prince ought to make good esteeme of his nobility; but not thereby to incur the commons hatred: it would seeme perhaps to many, considering the life and death of many romane emperours, that they were examples contrary to my opinion, finding that some have liv'd worthily, and shewd many rare vertues of the minde, and yet have lost the empire, and been put to death by their owne subjects, conspiring against them. intending then to answer these objections, i shall discourse upon the qualities of some emperours, declaring the occasions of their ruine, not disagreeing from that which i have alledgd; and part thereof i will bestow on the consideration of these things, which are worthy to be noted by him that reads the actions of those times: and it shall suffice me to take all those emperours that succeeded in the empire from marcus the philosopher to maximinus, who were mercus and commodus his sonne, pertinax, julian, severus, antonius, caracalla his sonne, macrinus, heliogabalus, alexander, and maximin. and first it is to be noted, that where in the other principalities, they are to contend only with the ambition of the nobles, and the insolence of the people; the romane emperours had a third difficulty, having to support the cruelty and covetousnesse of the souldiers, which was so hard a thing, that it caused the ruine of many, being hard to satisfy the souldiers, and the people; for the people love their quiet, and therefore affect modest princes; and the souldiers love a prince of a warlike courage, that is insolent, cruell, and plucking from every one: which things they would have them exercise upon the people, whereby they might be able to double their stipends, and satisfie their avarice and cruelty: whence it proceeds, that those emperours who either by nature or by art, had not such a reputation, as therewith they could curbe the one and the other, were alwayes ruind: and the most of them, specially those who as new men came to the principality, finding the difficulty of those two different humours, applyed themselves to content the souldiers, making small account of wronging the people, which was a course then necessary; for the princes not being able to escape the hatred of every one, ought first endeavour that they incurre not the hatred of any whole universality; and when they cannot attaine thereunto, they are to provide with all industry, to avoyd the hatred of those universalities that are the most mighty. and therefore those emperors, who because they were but newly call'd to the empire, had need of extraordinary favours, more willingly stuck to the soldiers, than to the people; which neverthelesse turnd to their advantage, or otherwise, according as that prince knew how to maintaine his repute with them. from these causes aforesayd proceeded it, that marcus pertinax, and alexander, though all living modestly, being lovers of justice, and enemies of cruelty, courteous and bountifull, had all from marcus on ward, miserable ends; marcus only liv'd and dy'd exceedingly honoured: for he came to the empire by inheritance, and was not to acknowledge it either from the soldiers, nor from the people: afterwards being accompanyed with many vertues, which made him venerable, he held alwayes whilst he liv'd the one and the other order within their limits, and was never either hated, or contemnd. but pertinax was created emperour against the soldiers wills, who being accustomed to live licentiously under commodus, could not endure that honest course that pertinax sought to reduce them to: whereupon having gotten himself hatred, and to this hatred added contempt, in that he was old, was ruind in the very beginning of his government. whence it ought to be observed, that hatred is gaind as well by good deeds as bad; and therefore as i formerly said, when a prince would maintaine the state, he is often forced not to be good: for when that generality, whether it be the people, or soldiers, or nobility, whereof thou thinkst thou standst in need to maintain thee, is corrupted, it behoves thee to follow their humour, and content them, and then all good deeds are thy adversaries. but let us come to alexander who was of that goodnesse, that among the prayses given him, had this for one, that in fourteen yeers wherein he held the empire, he never put any man to death, but by course of justice; neverthelesse being held effeminate, and a man that suffered himselfe to be ruled by his mother, and thereupon fallen into contempt, the army conspird against him. now on the contrary discoursing upon the qualities of commodus, severus, antonius, caracalla, and maximinus, you shall find them exceeding cruell, and ravinous, who to satisfie their soldiers, forbeare no kinde of injury that could be done upon the people; and all of them, except severus, came to evill ends: for in severus, there was such extraordinary valour, that while he held the soldiers his freinds, however the people were much burthend by him, he might alwayes reigne happily: for his valour rendred him so admirable in the souldiers and peoples sights; that these in a manner stood amazd and astonishd, and those others reverencing and honoring him. and because the actions of this man were exceeding great, being in a new prince, i will briefly shew how well he knew to act the foxes and the lions parts; the conditions of which two, i say, as before, are very necessary for a prince to imitate. severus having had experience of julian the emperours sloth, perswaded his army (whereof he was commander in sclavonia) that they should doe well to goe to rome to revenge pertinax his death, who was put to death by the imperiall guard; and under this pretence, not making any shew that he aspird unto the empire, set his army in march directly towards rome, and was sooner come into italy, than it was knowne he had mov'd from his station. being ariv'd at rome, he was by the senate chosen emperour for feare, and julian slaine. after this beginning, two difficulties yet remaind to severus, before he could make himselfe lord of the whole state; the one in asia, where niger the generall of those armies had gotten the title of emperour, the other in the west with albinus, who also aspird to the empire: and because he thought there might be some danger to discover himselfe enemy to them both, he purposed to set upon niger, and cozen albinus, to whom he writ, that being elected emperour by the senate, he would willingly communicate it with him; and thereupon sent him the title of cæsar, and by resolution of the senate, tooke him to him for his colleague; which things were taken by albinus in true meaning. but afterwards when severus had overcome and slaine niger, and pacified the affaires and in the east, being returned to rome, he complaind in the senate of albinus, how little weighing the benefits received from him, he had sought to slay him by treason, and therefore was he forc'd to goe punish his ingratitude: afterwards he went into france, where he bereft him both of his state and life, whoever then shall in particular examine his actions, shall finde he was a very cruell lion, and as crafty a fox: and shall see that he was alwayes feard and reverenc'd by every one, and by the armies not hated; and shall nothing marvell that he being a new man, was able to hold together such a great empire: for his extraordinary reputation defended him alwayes from that hatred, which the people for his extortions might have conceiv'd against him. but antonius his sonne, was also an exceeding brave man, and endued with most excellent qualities, which causd him to be admird by the people, and acceptable to the souldiers, because he was a warlike man, enduring all kind of travell and paines, despising all delicate food, and all kinde of effeminacy, which gaind him the love of all the armies: neverthelesse his fiercenesse and cruelty were such, and so hideous, having upon many particular occasions put to death a great part of the people of rome, and all those of alexandria, that he grew odious to the world, and began to be feard by those also that were neare about him; so that he was slaine by a centurion in the very midst of his army. where it is to be noted, that these kinde of deaths, which follow upon the deliberation of a resolv'd and obstinate minde, cannot by a prince be avoyded: for every one that feares not to dye, is able to doe it; but a prince ought to be lesse afraid of it because it very seldome falls out. only should he beware not to doe any extreame injury to any of those of whom he serves himself, or that he hath near about him in any imployment of his principality, as antonius did: who had reproachfully slaine a brother of that centurion; also threatned him every day, and neverthelesse entertaind him still as one of the guards of his body, which was a rash course taken, and the way to destruction, as befell him. but let us come to commodus for whom it was very easie to hold the empire, by reason it descended upon him by inheritance, being marcus his sonne, and it had been enough for him to follow his fathers footsteps, and then had he contented both the people and the soldiers: but being of a cruell and savage disposition, whereby to exercise his actions upon the people, he gave himselfe to entertaine armies, and those in all licentiousnesse. on the other part not maintaining his dignity, but often descending upon the stages to combate with fencers, and doing such other like base things, little worthy of the imperiall majesty, he became contemptible in the soldiers sight; and being hated of one part, and despisd of the other, he was conspird against, and slaine. it remaines now, that we declare maximinus his conditions, who was a very warlike man; and the armies loathing alexanders effeminacy, whereof i spake before, when they had slain him, chose this man emperour, who not long continued so, because two things there were that brought him into hatred and contempt; the one because he was very base, having kept cattell in thrace, which was well knowne to every one, and made them to scorne him; the other, because in the beginning of his principality having delayd to goe to rome, and enter into possession of the imperiall throne, he had gaind the infamy of being thought exceeding cruell, having by his prefects in rome, and in every place of the empire, exercisd many cruelties, insomuch that the whole world being provok'd against him to contempt for the basenesse of his blood; on the other side upon the hatred conceiv'd against him for feare of his crulty; first affrica, afterwards the senate, with all the people of rome and all italy, conspired against him, with whom his own army took part; which incamping before aquileya, and finding some difficulty to take the town, being weary of his cruelties, and because they saw he had so many enemies, fearing him the lesse, slew him. i purpose not to say any thing either of heliogabalus, macrinus, or julian, who because they were throughly base, were sudenly extinguished: but i will come to the conclusion of this discourse; and i say, that the princes of our times have lesse of this difficulty to satisfie the soldiers extraordinarily in their government; for notwithstanding that there be some considerations to be had of them, yet presently are those armies dissolved, because none of these princes do use to maintaine any armies together, which are annex'd and inveterated with the governments of the provinces, as were the armies of the romane empire. and therefore if then it was necessary rather to content the soldiers than the people, it was because the soldiers were more powerfull than the people: now is it more necessary for all princes, (except the turk and the souldan) to satisfie their people than their soldiers, because the people are more mighty than they; wherein i except the turk, he alwayes maintaining about his person foot, and horse, upon which depends the safety and strength of his kingdome; and it is necessary that laying aside all other regard of his people, he maintaine these his friends. the souldans kingdome is like hereunto, which being wholy in the souldiers power, he must also without respect of his people keep them his friends. and you are to consider, that this state of the souldans differs much from all the other principalities: for it is very like the papacy, which cannot be termd an hereditary principality: nor a new principality: for the sons of the deceasd prince are not heires and lords thereof, but he that is chosen receives that dignity from those who have the authority in them. and this order being of antiquity, cannot be termd a new principality, because therein are none of those difficulties that are in new ones: for though the prince be new, yet are the orders of that state ancient, and ordaind to receive him, as if he were their hereditary prince. but let us returne to our matter; whosoever shall consider our discourse before, shall perceive that either hatred, or contempt have caus'd the ruine of the afore-named emperors; and shall know also, from it came that part of them proceeding one way, and part a contrary; yet in any of them the one had a happy success, and the others unhappy: for it was of no availe, but rather hurtful for pertinax and alexander, because they were new princes, to desire to imitate marcus, who by inheritance came to the principality: and in like manner it was a wrong to caracalla, commodus, and maximus, to imitate severus, because none of them were endued with so great valor as to follow his steps therein. wherefore a new prince in his principality cannot well imitate marcus his actions; nor yet is it necessary to follow those of severus: but he ought make choyce of those parts in severus which are necessary for the founding of a state; and to take from marcus those that are fit and glorious to preserve a state which is already established and setled. chap. xx whether the citadels and many other things which princes often make use of, are profitable or dammageable. some princes, whereby they might safely keep their state, have disarmed their subjects; some others have held the towns under their dominion, divided into factions; others have maintain'd enmities against themselves; others have appli'd themselves to gain them, where they have suspected at their entrance into the government; others have built fortresses; and others again have ruined and demolished them: and however that upon all these things, a man cannot well pass a determinate sentence, unless one comes to the particulars of these states, where some such like determinations were to be taken; yet i shall speak of them in so large a manner, as the matter of it self will bear. it was never then that a new prince would disarme his own subjects; but rather when he hath found them disarmed, he hath alwaies arm'd them. for being belov'd, those armes become thine; those become faithful, which thou hadst in suspicion; and those which were faithful, are maintaind so; and thy subjects are made thy partisans; and because all thy subjects cannot be put in armes, when thou bestowest favors on those thou armest, with the others thou canst deal more for thy safety; and that difference of proceeding which they know among them, obliges them to thee; those others excuse thee, judgeing it necessary that they have deservd more, who have undergone more danger, and so have greater obligation: but when thou disarmst them, thou beginst to offend them, that thou distrustest them, either for cowardise, or small faith; and the one or the other of those two opinions provokes their hatred against thee; and because thou canst not stand disarmed, thou must then turn thy self to mercenary soldiery, whereof we have formerly spoken what it is, and when it is good; it can never be so much as to defend thee from powerful enemies, and suspected subjects; therefore as i have said, a new prince in a new principality hath alwaies ordaind them armes. of examples to this purpose, histories are full. but when a prince gains a new state, which as a member he adds to his ancient dominions, then it is necessary to disarme that state, unless it be those whom thou hast discoverd to have assisted thee in the conquest thereof; and these also in time and upon occasions, it is necessary to render delicate and effeminate, and so order them, that all the arms of thy state be in the hands of thy own soldiers, who live in thy ancient state near unto thee. our ancestors and they that were accounted sages, were wont to say that it was necessary to hold pistoya in factions, and pisa with fortresses; and for this cause maintaind some towns subject to them in differences, whereby to hold it more easily. this, at what time italy was ballanc'd in a certain manner, might be well done; but mee thinks it cannot now a dayes be well given for a precept; for i do not beleeve, that divisions made can do any good; rather it must needs be, that when the enemy approaches them, cities divided are presently lost; for alwaies the weaker part will cleave to the forrein power, and the other not be able to subsist. the venetians (as i think) mov'd by the aforesaid reasons, maintaind the factions of the guelfes and gibellins, in their townes; and however they never suffered them to spill one anothers blood, yet they nourish'd these differences among them, to the end that the citizens imployd in these quarrels, should not plot any thing against them: which as it proved, never serv'd them to any great purpose: for being defeated at vayla, presently one of those two factions took courage and seizd upon their whole state. therefore such like waies argue the princes weakness; for in a strong principality they never will suffer such divisions; for they shew them some kind of profit in time of peace, being they are able by means thereof more easily to mannage their subjects: but war comming, such like orders discover their fallacy. without doubt, princes become great, when they overcome the difficulties and oppositions that are made against them; and therefore fortune especially when she hath to make any new prince great, who hath more need to gain reputation than an hereditary prince, causes enemies to rise against him, and him to undertake against them: to the end he may have occasion to master them, and know that ladder, which his enemies have set him upon, whereby to rise yet higher. and therefore many think, that a wise prince when he hath the occasion, ought cunningly to nourish some enmity, that by the suppressing thereof, his greatness may grow thereupon. princes, especially those that are new, have found more faith and profit in those men, who in the beginning of their state, have been held suspected, than in those who at their entrance have been their confidents. pandulphus petrucci, prince of siena, governd his state, more with them that had been suspected by him, than with the others. but of this matter we cannot speak at large, because it varies according to the subject; i will only say this, that those men, who in the beginning of a principality were once enemies, if they be of quality so that to maintain themselves they have need of support, the prince might alwaies with the greatest facility gain for his; and they are the rather forced to serve him faithfully, insomuch as they know it is more necessary for them by their deeds to cancel that sinister opinion, which was once held of them; and so the prince ever draws from these more advantage, than from those, who serving him too supinely, neglect his affairs. and seing the matter requires it, i will not omit to put a prince in mind, who hath anew made himself master of a state, by means of the inward helps he had from thence that he consider well the cause that mov'd them that favor'd him to favor him, if it be not a natural affection towards him; for if it be only because they were not content with their former government, with much pains and difficulties shall he be able to keep them long his friends, because it will be impossible for him to content them. by these examples then which are drawn out of ancient and modern affaires, searching into the cause hereof, we shall find it much more easie to gain those men for friends, who formerly were contented with the state, and therefore were his enemies: than those, who because they were not contented therewith, became his fiends, and favor'd him in getting the mastery of it. it hath been the custome of princes, whereby to hold their states more securely, to build citadels, which might be bridles and curbs to those that should purpose any thing against them, and so to have a secure retreat from the first violences. i commend this course, because it hath been used of old; notwithstanding nicholas vitelli in our dayes hath been known to demolish two citadels in the town of castello, the better to keep the state; guidubaldo duke of urbin being to return into his state, out of which he was driven by cæsar borgia, raz'd all the fortresses of that countrey, and thought he should hardlyer lose that state again without them. the bentivolii returning into bolonia, used the like courses. citadels then are profitable, or not, according to the times; and if they advantage thee in one part, they do thee harme in another; and this part may be argued thus. that prince who stands more in fear of his own people than of strangers, ought to build fortresses: but he that is more afraid of strangers than of his people, should let them alone. against the house of sforza, the castle of milan, which francis sforza built, hath and will make more war, than any other disorder in that state: and therefore the best citadel that may be, is not to incurre the peoples hatred; for however thou holdest a fortress, and the people hate thee, thou canst hardly scape them; for people, when once they have taken armes, never want the help of strangers at their need to take ther parts. in our dayes we never saw that they ever profited any prince, unless it were the countess of furli, when count hieronymo of furli her husband was slain; for by means thereof she escap'd the peoples rage, and attended aid from milan, and so recover'd her state: and then such were the times that the stranger could not assist the people: but afterwards they serv'd her to little purpose, when cæsar borgia assaild her, and that the people which was her enemy, sided with the stranger. therefore both then, and at first, it would have been more for her safety, not to have been odious to the people, than to have held the fortresses. these things being well weigh'd then, i will commend those that shall build up fortresses, and him also that shall not; and i will blame him, howsoever he be, that relying upon those, shall make small account of being hated by his people. chap. xxi how a prince ought to behave himself to gain reputation. there is nothing gains a prince such repute as great exploits, and rare tryals of himself in heroick actions. we have now in our dayes ferdinand king of arragon the present king of spain: he in a manner may be termed a new prince; for from a very weak king, he is now become for fame and glory, the first king of christendome, and if you shall wel consider his actions, you shall find them all illustrious, and every one of them extraordinary. he in the beginning of his reign assaild granada, and that exploit was the ground of his state. at first he made that war in security, and without suspicion he should be any waies hindred, and therein held the barons of castiglias minds busied, who thinking upon that war, never minded any innovation; in this while he gaind credit and authority with them, they not being aware of it; was able to maintain with the church and the peoples money all his soldiers, and to lay a foundation for his military ordinances with that long war, which afterwards gaind him exceeding much honor. besides this, to the end he might be able hereamong to undertake greater matters, serving himself alwaies of the colour of religion, he gave himself to a kind of religious cruelty, chasing and dispoyling those jewes out of the kingdome; nor can this example be more admirable and rare: under the same cloke he invaded affrick and went through with his exploit in italy: and last of all hath he assaild france, and so alwaies proceeded on forwards contriving of great matters, which alwaies have held his subjects minds in peace and admiration, and busied in attending the event, what it should be: and these his actions have thus grown, one upon another, that they have never given leisure to men so to rest, as they might ever plot any thing against them. moreover it much avails a prince to give extraordinary proofes of himself touching the government within, such as those we have heard of bernard of milan, whensoever occasion is given by any one, that may effectuate some great thing either of good or evil, in the civil government; and to find out some way either to reward or punish it, whereof in the world much notice may be taken. and above all things a prince ought to endeavor in all his actions to spread abroad a fame of his magnificence and worthiness. a prince also is well esteemed, when he is a true friend, or a true enemy; when without any regard he discovers himself in favor of one against another; which course shall be alwaies more profit, than to stand neuter: for if two mighty ones that are thy neighbors, come to fall out, or are of such quality, that one of them vanquishing, thou art like to be in fear of the vanquisher, or not; in either of these two cases, it will ever prove more for thy profit, to discover thy self, and make a good war of it: for in the first case, if thou discoverest not thy selfe, thou shalt alwaies be a prey to him that overcomes, to the contentment and satisfaction of the vanquisht; neither shalt thou have reason on thy side, nor any thing else to defend or receive thee. for he that overcomes, will not have any suspected friends that give him no assistance in his necessity: and he that loses, receives thee not, because thou wouldest not with thy armes in hand run the hazzard of his fortune. antiochus passed into greece, thereunto induc'd by the etolians, to chace the romans thence: and sent his ambassadors to the achayans, who were the romans friends, to perswade them to stand neuters; on the other side the romans moved them to joyne armes with theirs: this matter came to be deliberated on in the council of the achayans, where antiochus his ambassador encouraged them to stand neuters, whereunto the romans ambassador answerd; touching the course, that is commended to you, as best and profitablest for your state, to wit, not to intermeddle in the war between us, nothing can be more against you: because, not taking either part, you shall remain without thanks, and without reputation a prey to the conqueror. and it will alwaies come to pass that he who is not thy friend, will requite thy neutrality; and he that is thy friend, will urge thee to discover thy self by taking arms for him: and evil advised princes; to avoyd the present dangers, folow often times that way of neutrality, and most commonly go to ruine: but when a prince discovers himself strongly in favor of a party; if he to whom thou cleavest, overcomes; however that he be puissant, and thou remainest at his disposing, he is oblig'd to thee, and there is a contract of friendship made; and men are never so openly dishonest, as with such a notorious example of dishonesty to oppress thee. besides victories are never so prosperous, that the conqueror is like neglect all respects, and especially of justice. but if he to whom thou stickst, loses, thou art received by him; and, while he is able, he aydes thee, and so thou becomest partner of a fortune that may arise again; the second case, when they that enter into the lists together, are of such quality, that thou needest not fear him that vanquisheth, so much the more is it discretion in thee to stick to him; for thou goest to ruine one with his assistance, who ought to do the best he could to save him, if he were well advised; and he overcomming, is left at thy discretion; and it is unpossible but with thy ayd he must overcome. and here it is to be noted, that a prince should be well aware never to joyn with any one more powerfull than himself, to offend another, unless upon necessity, as formerly is said. for when he overcomes, thou art left at his discretion, and princes ought avoid as much as they are able, to stand at anothers discretion. the venetians took part with france against the duke of milan, and yet could have avoided that partaking, from which proceeded their ruine. but when it cannot be avoyded, as it befel the florentines when the pope and the king of spain went both with their armies to lombardy, there the prince ought to side with them for the reasons aforesaid. nor let any state think they are able to make such sure parties, but rather that they are all doubtfull; for in the order of things we find it alwaies, that whensoever a man seeks to avoid one inconvenient, he incurs another. but the principal point of judgement, is in discerning between the qualities of inconvenients, and not taking the bad for the good. moreover a prince ought to shew himself a lover of vertue, and that he honors those that excel in every art. afterwards ought he encourage his citizens, whereby they may be enabled quickly to exercise their faculties as well in merchandise, and husbandry, as in any other kind of traffick, to the end that no man forbear to adorne and cultivate his possessions for fear that he be despoyled of them; or any other to open the commerce upon the danger of heavy impositions: but rather to provide rewards for those that shall set these matters afoot, or for any one else that shall any way amplifie his city or state. besides he ought in the fit times of the year entertain the people with feasts and maskes; and because every city is devided into companies, and arts, and tribes, he ought to take special notice of those bodies, and some times afford them a meeting, and give them some proof of his humanity, and magnificence; yet withall holding firme the majestie of his state; for this must never fail in any case. chap. xxii touching princes secretaries. it is no small importance to a prince, the choyce he makes, of servants being ordinarily good or bad, as his wisdome is. and the first conjecture one gives of a great man, and of his understanding, is, upon the sight of his followers and servants he hath about him, when they prove able and faithful, and then may he alwaies be reputed wise because he hath known how to discern those that are able, and to keep them true to him. but when they are otherwise, there can be no good conjecture made of him; for the first error he commits, is in this choyce. there was no man that had any knowledge of antonio of vanafro, the servant of pandulfus petrucci prince of sicily, who did not esteem pandulfus for a very discreet man, having him for his servant. and because there are three kinds of understandings; the one that is advised by it self; the other that understands when it is informed by another; the third that neither is advised by it self nor by the demonstration of another; the first is best, the second is good, and the last quite unprofitable. therefore it was of necessity, that if pandulfus attaind not the first degree, yet he got to the second; for whenever any one hath the judgement to discerne between the good and the evil, that he does and sayes, however that he hath not his distinction from himself, yet still comes he to take notice of the good or evil actions of that servant; and those he cherishes, and these he suppresses; insomuch that the servant finding no means to deceive his master, keeps himself upright and honest. but how a prince may throughly understand his servant, here is the way that never fails. when thou seest the servant study more for his own advantage than thine, and that in all his actions, he searches most after his own profit; this man thus qualified, shall never prove good servant, nor canst thou ever relie upon him: for he that holds the sterne of the state in hand, ought never call home his cares to his own particular, but give himself wholly over to his princes service, nor ever put him in minde of any thing not appertaining to him. and on the other side the prince to keep him good to him, ought to take a care for his servant, honoring him, enriching, and obliging him to him, giving him part both of dignities and offices, to the end that the many honors and much wealth bestowed on him, may restrain his desires from other honors, and other wealth, and that those many charges cause him to fear changes that may fall, knowing he is not able to stand without his master. and when both the princes and the servants are thus disposed, they may rely the one upon the other: when otherwise, the end will ever prove hurtfull for the one as well as for the other. chap. xxiii that flatterers are to be avoyded. i will not omit one principle of great inportance, being an errour from which princes with much difficulty defend themselves, unlesse they be very discreet, and make a very good choice; and this is concerning flatterers; whereof all writings are full: and that because men please themselves so much in their own things, and therein cozen themselves, that very hardly can they escape this pestilence; and desiring to escape it, there is danger of falling into contempt; for there is no other way to be secure from flattery, but to let men know, that they displease thee not in telling thee truth: but when every one hath this leave, thou losest thy reverence. therefore ought a wise prince take a third course, making choyce of some understanding men in his state, and give only to them a free liberty of speaking to him the truth; and touching those things only which he inquires of, and nothing else; but he ought to be inquisitive of every thing, and hear their opinions, and then afterwards advise himself after his own manner; and in these deliberations, and with every one of them so carrie himself, that they all know, that the more freely they shall speak, the better they shall be liked of: and besides those, not give eare to any one; and thus pursue the thing resolved on, and thence continue obstinate in the resolution taken. he who does otherwise, either falls upon flatterers, or often changes upon the varying of opinions, from whence proceeds it that men conceive but slightly of him. to this purpose i will alledge you a moderne example. peter lucas a servant of maximilians the present emperor, speaking of his majesty, said that he never advised with any body, nor never did any thing after his own way: which was because he took a contrary course to what we have now said: for the emperor is a close man, who communicates his secrets to none, nor takes counsel of any one; but as they come to be put in practise, they begin to be discovered and known, and so contradicted by those that are near about him; and he as being an easy man, is quickly wrought from them. whence it comes that what he does to day, he undoes on the morrow; and that he never understands himself what he would, nor what he purposes, and that there is no grounding upon any of his resolutions. a prince therefore ought alwayes to take counsell, but at his owne pleasure, and not at other mens; or rather should take away any mans courage to advise him of any thing, but what he askes: but he ought well to aske at large, and then touching the things inquird of, be a patient hearer of the truth; and perceiving that for some respect the truth were conceald from him, be displeased thereat. and because some men have thought that a prince that gaines the opinion to bee wise, may bee held so, not by his owne naturall indowments, but by the good counsells he hath about him; without question they are deceivd; for this is a generall rule and never failes, that a prince who of himselfe is not wise, can never be well advised, unlesse he should light upon one alone, wholly to direct and govern him, who himself were a very wise man. in this case it is possible he may be well governd: but this would last but little: for that governor in a short time would deprive him of his state; but a prince not having any parts of nature, being advised of more then one, shall never be able to unite these counsels: of himself shall he never know how to unite them; and each one of the counsellers, probably will follow that which is most properly his owne; and he shall never find the meanes to amend or discerne these things; nor can they fall out otherwise, because men alwayes prove mischievous, unlesse upon some necessity they be forc'd to become good: we conclude therefore, that counsells from whencesoever they proceed, must needs take their beginning from the princes wisdome, and not the wisdome of the prince from good counsells. in this chapter our authour prescribes some rules how to avoyd flattery, and not to fall into contempt. the extent of these two extreames is so large on both sides, that there is left but a very narrow path for the right temper to walke between them both: and happy were that prince, who could light on so good a pilote as to bring him to port between those rocks and those quicksands. where majesty becomes familiar, unlesse endued with a super-eminent vertue, it loses all awfull regards: as the light of the sunne, because so ordinary, because so common, we should little value, were it not that all creatures feele themselves quickned by the rayes thereof. on the other side, _omnis insipiens arrogantiâ et plausibus capitur_, every foole is taken with his owne pride and others flatteryes: and this foole keeps company so much with all great wise men, that hardly with a candle and lantern can they be discernd betwixt. the greatest men are more subject to grosse and palpable flatteries; and especially the greatest of men, who are kings and princes: for many seek the rulers favour. _prov._ . . for there are divers meanes whereby private men are instructed; princes have not that good hap: but they whose instruction is of most importance, so soone as they have taken the government upon them, no longer suffer any reproovers: for but few have accesse unto them, and they who familiary converse with them, doe and say all for favour. isocrat, to nicocles, all are afraid to give him occasion of displeasure, though by telling him truth. to this purpose therefore sayes one; a prince excells in learning to ride the great horse, rather than in any other exercise, because his horse being no flatterer, will shew him he makes no difference between him and another man, and unlesse he keepe his seate well, will lay him on the ground. this is plaine dealing. men are more subtile, more double-hearted, they have a heart and a heart neither is their tongue their hearts true interpreter. counsell in the heart of man is like deepe waters; but a man of understanding will draw it out. _prov._ . . this understanding is most requisite in a prince, inasmuch as the whole globe is in his hand, and the inferiour orbes are swayed by the motion of the highest. and therefore surely it is the honour of a king to search out such a secret: _prov._ . . his counsellours are his eyes and eares; as they ought to be dear to him, so they ought to be true to him, and make him the true report of things without disguise. if they prove false eyes, let him pluck them out; he may as they use glasse eyes, take them forth without paine, and see never a whit the worse for it. the wisdome of a princes counsellours is a great argument of the princes wisdome. and being the choyce of them imports the princes credit and safety, our authour will make him amends for his other errours by his good advice in his chap. whether i referre him. chap. xxiv wherefore the princes of italy have lost their states. when these things above said are well observ'd, they make a new prince seeme as if he had been of old, and presently render him more secure and firme in the state, than if he had already grown ancient therein: for a new prince is much more observd in his action, than a prince by inheritance; and when they are known to bee vertuous, men are much more gaind and oblig'd to them thereby, than by the antiquity of their blood: for men are much more taken by things present, than by things past, and when in the present they find good, they content themselves therein, and seeke no further; or rather they undertake the defence of him to their utmost, when the prince is not wanting in other matters to himself; and so shall he gaine double glory to have given a beginning to a new principality, adornd, and strengthnd it with good lawes, good arms, good friends, and good examples; as he shall have double shame, that is born a prince, and by reason of his small discretion hath lost it. and if we shall consider those lords, that in italy have lost their states in our dayes, as the king of naples, the duke of milan, and others; first we shall find in them a common defect, touching their armes, for the reasons which have been above discoursd at length. afterwards we shall see some of them, that either shall have had the people for their enemies; or be it they had the people to friend, could never know how to assure themselves of the great ones: for without such defects as these, states are not lost, which have so many nerves, that they are able to maintaine an army in the feld. philip of macedon, not the father of alexander the great, but he that was vanquished by titus quintius, had not much state in regard of the greatnesse of the romanes and of greece that assail'd him; neverthelesse in that he was a warlike man and knew how to entertaine the people, and assure himself of the nobles, for many yeares he made the warre good against them: and though at last some town perhaps were taken from him, yet the kingdome remaind in his hands still. wherefore these our princes who for many yeares had continued in their principalities, for having afterwards lost them, let them not blame fortune, but their own sloth; because they never having thought during the time of quiet, that they could suffer a change (which is the common fault of men, while faire weather lasts, not to provide for the tempest) when afterwards mischiefes came upon them, thought rather upon flying from them, than upon their defence, and hop'd that the people, weary of the vanquishers insolence, would recall them: which course when the others faile, is good: but very ill is it to leave the other remedies for that: for a man wou'd never go to fall, beleeving another would come to take him up: which may either not come to passe, or if it does, it is not for thy security, because that defence of his is vile, and depends not upon thee; but those defences only are good, certaine, and durable, which depend upon thy owne selfe, and thy owne vertues. chap. xxv how great power fortune hath in humane affaires, and what meanes there is to resist it. it is not unknown unto me, how that many have held opinion, and still hold it, that the affaires of the world are so governd by fortune, and by god, that men by their wisdome cannot amend or alter them; or rather that there is no remedy for them: and hereupon they would think that it were of no availe to take much paines in any thing, but leave all to be governd by chance. this opinion hath gain'd the more credit in our dayes, by reason of the great alteration of things, which we have of late seen, and do every day see, beyond all humane conjecture: upon which, i sometimes thinking, am in some parte inclind to their opinion: neverthelesse not to extinguish quite our owne free will, i think it may be true, that fortune is the mistrisse of one halfe of our actions; but yet that she lets us have rule of the other half, or little lesse. and i liken her to a precipitous torrent, which when it rages, over-flows the plaines, overthrowes the trees, and buildings, removes the earth from one side, and laies it on another, every one flyes before it, every one yeelds to the fury thereof, as unable to withstand it; and yet however it be thus, when the times are calmer, men are able to make provision against these excesses, with banks and fences so, that afterwards when it swels again, it shall all passe smoothly along, within its channell, or else the violence thereof shall not prove so licentious and hurtfull. in like manner befals it us with fortune, which there shewes her power where vertue is not ordeind to resist her, and thither turnes she all her forces, where she perceives that no provisions nor resistances are made to uphold her. and if you shall consider italy, which is the seat of these changes, and that which hath given them their motions, you shall see it to be a plaine field, without any trench or bank; which had it been fenc'd with convenient vertue as was germany, spain or france; this inundation would never have causd these great alterations it hath, or else would it not have reach'd to us: and this shall suffice to have said, touching the opposing of fortune in generall. but restraining my selfe more to particulars, i say that to day we see a prince prosper and flourish and to morrow utterly go to ruine; not seeing that he hath alterd any condition or quality; which i beleeve arises first from the causes which we have long since run over, that is because that prince that relies wholly upon fortune, runnes as her wheele turnes. i beleeve also, that he proves the fortunate man, whose manner of proceeding meets with the quality of the time; and so likewise he unfortunate from whose course of proceeding the times differ: for we see that men, in the things that induce them to the end, (which every one propounds to himselfe, as glory and riches) proceed therein diversly; some with respects, others more bold, and rashly; one with violence, and th'other with cunning; the one with patience, th'other with its contrary; and every one of severall wayes may attaine thereto; we see also two very respective and wary men, the one come to his purpose, and th'other not; and in like maner two equally prosper, taking divers course; the one being wary the other head-strong; which proceeds from nothing else, but from the quality of the times, which agree, or not, with their proceedings. from hence arises that which i said, that two working diversly, produce the same effect: and two equaly working, the one attains his end, the other not. hereupon depends the alteration of the good; for if to one that behaves himself with warinesse and patience, times and affaires turne so favourably, that the carriage of his businesse prove well, he prospers; but if the times and affaires chance, he is ruind, because he changes not his manner of proceeding: nor is there any man so wise, that can frame himselfe hereunto; as well because he cannot go out of the way, from that whereunto nature inclines him: as also, for that one having alwayes prosperd, walking such a way, cannot be perswaded to leave it; and therefore the respective and wary man, when it is fit time for him to use violence and force, knows not how to put it in practice, whereupon he is ruind: but if he could change his disposition with the times and the affaires, he should not change his fortune. pope julius the second proceeded in all his actions with very great violence, and found the times and things so conformable to that his manner of proceeding that in all of them he had happy successe. consider the first exploit he did at bolonia, even while john bentivolio lived: the venetians were not well contented therewith; the king of spaine likewise with the french, had treated of that enterprise; and notwithstanding al this, he stirrd up by his own rage and fiercenesse, personally undertook that expedition: which action of his put in suspence and stopt spaine and the venetians; those for feare, and the others for desire to recover the kingdome of naples; and on the other part drew after him the king of france; for that king seeing him already in motion, and desiring to hold him his friend, whereby to humble the venetians, thought he could no way deny him his souldiers, without doing him an open injury. julius then effected that with his violent and heady motion, which no other pope with all humane wisdome could ever have done; for if he had expected to part from rome with his conclusions settled, and all his affaires ordered before hand, as any other pope would have done, he had never brought it to passe: for the king of france would have devised a thousand excuses, and others would have put him in as many feares. i will let passe his other actions, for all of them were alike, and all of them prov'd lucky to him; and the brevity of his life never sufferd him to feele the contrary: for had he litt upon such times afterwards, that it had been necessary for him to proceed with respects, there had been his utter ruine; for he would never have left those wayes, to which he had been naturally inclind. i conclude then, fortune varying, and men continuing still obstinate to their own wayes, prove happy, while these accord together: and as they disagree, prove unhappy: and i think it true, that it is better to be heady than wary; because fortune is a mistresse; and it is necessary, to keep her in obedience to ruffle and force her: and we see, that she suffers her self rather to be masterd by those, than by others that proceed coldly. and therefore, as a mistresse, shee is a friend to young men, because they are lesse respective, more rough, and command her with more boldnesse. i have considered the chapter, as representing me a full view of humane policy and cunning: yet me thinks it cannot satisfie a christian in the causes of the good and bad successe of things. the life of man is like a game at tables; skill availes much i grant, but that's not all: play thy game well, but that will not winne: the chance thou throwest must accord with thy play. examine this; play never so surely, play never so probably, unlesse the chance thou castest, lead thee forward to advantage, all hazards are losses, and thy sure play leaves thee in the lurch. the sum of this is set down in ecclesiastes chap. . v. . the race is not to the swift, nor the battell to the strong: neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance hapeneth to them all. our cunning author for all his exact rules he delivere in his books, could not fence against the despight of fortune, as he complaines in his epistle to this booke. nor that great example of policy, duke valentine, whome our author commends to princes for his crafts-master, could so ruffle or force his mistresse fortune, that he could keep her in obedience. man can contribute no more to his actions than vertue and wisdome: but the successe depends upon a power above. surely there is the finger of god; or as prov. . v. . 'the lot is cast into the lap, but the whole disposing thereof is of the lord.' it was not josephs wisdome made all things thrive under his hand; but because the lord was with him; and that which he did, the lord made it to prosper, gen. . surely this is a blessing proceeding from the divine providence, which beyond humane capacity so cooperateth with the causes, as that their effects prove answerable, and sometimes (that we may know there is something above the ordinary causes) the success returns with such a supereminency of worth, that it far exceeds the vertue of the ordinary causes. chap. xxvi an exhortation to free italy from the barbarians. having then weighed all things above discours'd, and devising with my self, whether at this present in italy the time might serve to honor a new prince, and whether there were matter that might minister occasion to a wise and valorous prince, to introduce such a forme, that might do honor to him, and good to the whole generality of the people in the countrey: me thinks so many things concurre in favor of a new prince, that i know not whether there were ever any time more proper for this purpose. and if as i said, it was necessary, desiring to see moses his vertue, that the children of israel should be inthrald in Ægypt; and to have experience of the magnanimity of cyrus his mind, that the persians should be oppress'd by the medes; and to set forth the excellency of theseus, that the athenians should be dispersed; so at this present now we are desirous to know the valor of an italian spirit, it were necessary italy should be reduc'd to the same termes it is now in, and were in more slavery than the hebrews were; more subject than the persians, more scatterd than the athenians; without head, without order, battered, pillaged, rent asunder, overrun, and had undergone all kind of destruction. and however even in these later dayes, we have had some kind of shew of hope in some one, whereby we might have conjectur'd, that he had been ordained for the deliverance hereof, yet it prov'd afterwards, that in the very height of all his actions he was curb'd by fortune, insomuch that this poore countrey remaining as it were without life, attends still for him that shall heal her wounds, give an end to all those pillagings and sackings of lombardy, to those robberies and taxations of the kingdome, and of tuscany, and heal them of their soars, now this long time gangren'd. we see how she makes her prayers to god, that he send some one to redeem her from these barbarous cruelties and insolencies. we see her also wholly ready and disposed to follow any colours, provided there be any one take them up. nor do we see at this present, that she can look for other, than your illustrious family, to become cheiftain of this deliverance, which hath now by its own vertue and fortune been so much exalted, and favored by god and the church, whereof it now holds the principality: and this shall not be very hard for you to do, if you shall call to mind the former actions, and lives of those that are above named. and though those men were very rare and admirable, yet were they men, and every one of them began upon less occasion than this; for neither was their enterprize more just than this, nor more easie; nor was god more their friend, than yours. here is very great justice: for that war is just, that is necessary; and those armes are religious, when there is no hope left otherwhere, but in them. here is an exceeding good disposition thereto: nor can there be, where there is a good disposition, a giant difficulty, provided that use be made of those orders, which i propounded for aim and direction to you. besides this, here we see extraordinary things without example effected by god; the sea was opened, a cloud guided the way, devotion poured forth the waters, and it rain'd down manna; all these things have concurred in your greatness, the rest is left for you to do. god will not do every thing himself, that he may not take from us our free will, and of that glory that belongs to us. neither is it a marvel, if any of the aforenamed italians have not been able to compass that, which we may hope your illustrious family shall: though in so many revolutions of italy, and so many feats of war, it may seem that the whole military vertue therein be quite extinguisht; for this arises from that the ancient orders thereof were not good; and there hath since been none that hath known how to invent new ones. nothing can so much honor a man rising anew, as new laws and new ordinances devised by him: these things when they have a good foundation given them, and contain in them their due greatness, gain him reverence and admiration; and in italy their wants not the matter wherein to introduce any forme. here is great vertue in the members, were it not wanting in the heads. consider in the single fights that have been, and duels, how much the italians have excel'd in their strength, activity and address; but when they come to armies, they appear not, and all proceeds from the weakness of the chieftaines; for they that understand the managing of these matters, are not obeyed; and every one presumes to understand; hitherto there having not been any one so highly raised either by fortune or vertue, as that others would submit unto him. from hence proceeds it, that in so long time, and in so many battels fought for these last past years, when there hath been an army wholly italian, it alwaies hath had evil success; whereof the river tarus first was witness, afterwards alexandria, capua, genua, vayla, bolonia, mestri. your illustrious family then being desirous to tread the footsteps of these worthyes who redeem'd their countreys, must above all things as the very foundation of the whole fabrick, be furnished with soldiers of your own natives: because you cannot have more faithful, true, nor better soldiers; and though every one of them be good, all together they will become better when they shall find themselves entertained, commanded, and honored by their own prince. wherefore it is necessary to provide for those armes, whereby to be able with the italian valor to make a defence against forreiners. and however the swisse infantry and spanish be accounted terrible; yet is there defect in both of them, by which a third order might not only oppose them, but may be confident to vanquish them: for the spaniards are not able to indure the horse, and the swisse are to feare the foot, when they incounter with them, as resolute in the fight as they; whereupon it hath been seen, and upon experience shall be certain, that the spaniards are not able to beare up against the french cavalery, and the swisses have been routed by the spanish foot. and though touching this last, there hath not been any entire experience had, yet was there some proof thereof given in the battel of ravenna, when the spanish foot affronted the dutch battalions, which keep the same rank the swisses do, where the spaniards with their nimbleness of body, and the help of their targets entred in under their pikes, and there stood safe to offend them, the dutch men having no remedy: and had it not been for the cavalery that rusht in upon them, they had quite defeated them. there may then (the defect of the one and other of these two infantries being discoverd) another kind of them be anew ordained, which may be able to make resistance against the horse, and not fear the foot, which shall not be a new sort of armes, but change of orders. and these are some of those things which ordained a new, gain reputation and greatness to a new prince. therefore this occasion should not be let pass, to the end that italy after so long a time may see some one redeemer of hers appear. nor can i express with what dearness of affection he would be received in all those countreys which have suffered by those forrein scums, with what thirst of revenge, with what resolution of fidelity, with what piety, with what tears. would any gates be shut again him? any people deny him obedience? any envy oppose him? would not every italian fully consent with him? this government of the barbarians stinks in every ones nostrils. let your illustrious family then undertake this worthy exployt with that courage and those hopes wherewith such just actions are to be attempted; to the end that under your colours, this countrey may be enabled, and under the protection of your fortune that saying of petrarch be verifyed. _virtù contr' al fuore prendera l'arme, e fia il combatter corto: che l'antico valore ne gli italici cor non è morto._ vertue against fury shall advance the fight, and it i' th' combate soon shall put to flight: for th' old roman valor is not dead, nor in th' italians brests extinguished. finis second treatise of government by john locke digitized by dave gowan <dgowan@tfn.net>. john locke's "second treatise of government" was published in . the complete unabridged text has been republished several times in edited commentaries. this text is recovered entire from the paperback book, "john locke second treatise of government", edited, with an introduction, by c.b. mcpherson, hackett publishing company, indianapolis and cambridge, . none of the mcpherson edition is included in the etext below; only the original words contained in the locke text is included. the edition text is free of copyright. * * * * * two treatises of government by iohn locke salus populi suprema lex esto london printed mdclxxxviii reprinted, the sixth time, by a. millar, h. woodfall, . whiston and b. white, . rivington, l. davis and c. reymers, r. baldwin, hawes clarke and collins; w. iohnston, w. owen, . richardson, s. crowder, t. longman, b. law, c. rivington, e. dilly, r. withy, c. and r. ware, s. baker, t. payne, a. shuckburgh, . hinxman mdcclxiii two treatises of government. in the former the false principles and foundation of sir robert filmer and his followers are detected and overthrown. the latter is an essay concerning the true original extent and end of civil government. editor's note the present edition of this book has not only been collated with the first three editions, which were published during the author's life, but also has the advantage of his last corrections and improvements, from a copy delivered by him to mr. peter coste, communicated to the editor, and now lodged in christ college, cambridge. preface reader, thou hast here the beginning and end of a discourse concerning government; what fate has otherwise disposed of the papers that should have filled up the middle, and were more than all the rest, it is not worth while to tell thee. these, which remain, i hope are sufficient to establish the throne of our great restorer, our present king william; to make good his title, in the consent of the people, which being the only one of all lawful governments, he has more fully and clearly, than any prince in christendom; and to justify to the world the people of england, whose love of their just and natural rights, with their resolution to preserve them, saved the nation when it was on the very brink of slavery and ruin. if these papers have that evidence, i flatter myself is to be found in them, there will be no great miss of those which are lost, and my reader may be satisfied without them: for i imagine, i shall have neither the time, nor inclination to repeat my pains, and fill up the wanting part of my answer, by tracing sir robert again, through all the windings and obscurities, which are to be met with in the several branches of his wonderful system. the king, and body of the nation, have since so thoroughly confuted his hypothesis, that i suppose no body hereafter will have either the confidence to appear against our common safety, and be again an advocate for slavery; or the weakness to be deceived with contradictions dressed up in a popular stile, and well-turned periods: for if any one will be at the pains, himself, in those parts, which are here untouched, to strip sir robert's discourses of the flourish of doubtful expressions, and endeavour to reduce his words to direct, positive, intelligible propositions, and then compare them one with another, he will quickly be satisfied, there was never so much glib nonsense put together in well-sounding english. if he think it not worth while to examine his works all thro', let him make an experiment in that part, where he treats of usurpation; and let him try, whether he can, with all his skill, make sir robert intelligible, and consistent with himself, or common sense. i should not speak so plainly of a gentleman, long since past answering, had not the pulpit, of late years, publicly owned his doctrine, and made it the current divinity of the times. it is necessary those men, who taking on them to be teachers, have so dangerously misled others, should be openly shewed of what authority this their patriarch is, whom they have so blindly followed, that so they may either retract what upon so ill grounds they have vented, and cannot be maintained; or else justify those principles which they preached up for gospel; though they had no better an author than an english courtier: for i should not have writ against sir robert, or taken the pains to shew his mistakes, inconsistencies, and want of (what he so much boasts of, and pretends wholly to build on) scripture-proofs, were there not men amongst us, who, by crying up his books, and espousing his doctrine, save me from the reproach of writing against a dead adversary. they have been so zealous in this point, that, if i have done him any wrong, i cannot hope they should spare me. i wish, where they have done the truth and the public wrong, they would be as ready to redress it, and allow its just weight to this reflection, viz. that there cannot be done a greater mischief to prince and people, than the propagating wrong notions concerning government; that so at last all times might not have reason to complain of the drum ecclesiastic. if any one, concerned really for truth, undertake the confutation of my hypothesis, i promise him either to recant my mistake, upon fair conviction; or to answer his difficulties. but he must remember two things. first, that cavilling here and there, at some expression, or little incident of my discourse, is not an answer to my book. secondly, that i shall not take railing for arguments, nor think either of these worth my notice, though i shall always look on myself as bound to give satisfaction to any one, who shall appear to be conscientiously scrupulous in the point, and shall shew any just grounds for his scruples. i have nothing more, but to advertise the reader, that observations stands for observations on hobbs, milton, &c. and that a bare quotation of pages always means pages of his patriarcha, edition . book ii chapter. i. an essay concerning the true original, extent and end of civil government sect. . it having been shewn in the foregoing discourse, (<i> </i>). that adam had not, either by natural right of fatherhood, or by positive donation from god, any such authority over his children, or dominion over the world, as is pretended: (<i> </i>). that if he had, his heirs, yet, had no right to it: (<i> </i>). that if his heirs had, there being no law of nature nor positive law of god that determines which is the right heir in all cases that may arise, the right of succession, and consequently of bearing rule, could not have been certainly determined: (<i> </i>). that if even that had been determined, yet the knowledge of which is the eldest line of adam's posterity, being so long since utterly lost, that in the races of mankind and families of the world, there remains not to one above another, the least pretence to be the eldest house, and to have the right of inheritance: all these premises having, as i think, been clearly made out, it is impossible that the rulers now on earth should make any benefit, or derive any the least shadow of authority from that, which is held to be the fountain of all power, adam's private dominion and paternal jurisdiction; so that he that will not give just occasion to think that all government in the world is the product only of force and violence, and that men live together by no other rules but that of beasts, where the strongest carries it, and so lay a foundation for perpetual disorder and mischief, tumult, sedition and rebellion, (things that the followers of that hypothesis so loudly cry out against) must of necessity find out another rise of government, another original of political power, and another way of designing and knowing the persons that have it, than what sir robert filmer hath taught us. sect. . to this purpose, i think it may not be amiss, to set down what i take to be political power; that the power of a magistrate over a subject may be distinguished from that of a father over his children, a master over his servant, a husband over his wife, and a lord over his slave. all which distinct powers happening sometimes together in the same man, if he be considered under these different relations, it may help us to distinguish these powers one from wealth, a father of a family, and a captain of a galley. sect. . political power, then, i take to be a right of making laws with penalties of death, and consequently all less penalties, for the regulating and preserving of property, and of employing the force of the community, in the execution of such laws, and in the defence of the commonwealth from foreign injury; and all this only for the public good. chapter. ii. of the state of nature. sect. . to understand political power right, and derive it from its original, we must consider, what state all men are naturally in, and that is, a state of perfect freedom to order their actions, and dispose of their possessions and persons, as they think fit, within the bounds of the law of nature, without asking leave, or depending upon the will of any other man. a state also of equality, wherein all the power and jurisdiction is reciprocal, no one having more than another; there being nothing more evident, than that creatures of the same species and rank, promiscuously born to all the same advantages of nature, and the use of the same faculties, should also be equal one amongst another without subordination or subjection, unless the lord and master of them all should, by any manifest declaration of his will, set one above another, and confer on him, by an evident and clear appointment, an undoubted right to dominion and sovereignty. sect. . this equality of men by nature, the judicious hooker looks upon as so evident in itself, and beyond all question, that he makes it the foundation of that obligation to mutual love amongst men, on which he builds the duties they owe one another, and from whence he derives the great maxims of justice and charity. his words are, /# the like natural inducement hath brought men to know that it is no less their duty, to love others than themselves; for seeing those things which are equal, must needs all have one measure; if i cannot but wish to receive good, even as much at every man's hands, as any man can wish unto his own soul, how should i look to have any part of my desire herein satisfied, unless myself be careful to satisfy the like desire, which is undoubtedly in other men, being of one and the same nature? to have any thing offered them repugnant to this desire, must needs in all respects grieve them as much as me; so that if i do harm, i must look to suffer, there being no reason that others should shew greater measure of love to me, than they have by me shewed unto them: my desire therefore to be loved of my equals in nature as much as possible may be, imposeth upon me a natural duty of bearing to them-ward fully the like affection; from which relation of equality between ourselves and them that are as ourselves, what several rules and canons natural reason hath drawn, for direction of life, no man is ignorant, eccl. pol. lib. . #/ sect. . but though this be a state of liberty, yet it is not a state of licence: though man in that state have an uncontroulable liberty to dispose of his person or possessions, yet he has not liberty to destroy himself, or so much as any creature in his possession, but where some nobler use than its bare preservation calls for it. the state of nature has a law of nature to govern it, which obliges every one: and reason, which is that law, teaches all mankind, who will but consult it, that being all equal and independent, no one ought to harm another in his life, health, liberty, or possessions: for men being all the workmanship of one omnipotent, and infinitely wise maker; all the servants of one sovereign master, sent into the world by his order, and about his business; they are his property, whose workmanship they are, made to last during his, not one another's pleasure: and being furnished with like faculties, sharing all in one community of nature, there cannot be supposed any such subordination among us, that may authorize us to destroy one another, as if we were made for one another's uses, as the inferior ranks of creatures are for our's. every one, as he is bound to preserve himself, and not to quit his station wilfully, so by the like reason, when his own preservation comes not in competition, ought he, as much as he can, to preserve the rest of mankind, and may not, unless it be to do justice on an offender, take away, or impair the life, or what tends to the preservation of the life, the liberty, health, limb, or goods of another. sect. . and that all men may be restrained from invading others rights, and from doing hurt to one another, and the law of nature be observed, which willeth the peace and preservation of all mankind, the execution of the law of nature is, in that state, put into every man's hands, whereby every one has a right to punish the transgressors of that law to such a degree, as may hinder its violation: for the law of nature would, as all other laws that concern men in this world be in vain, if there were no body that in the state of nature had a power to execute that law, and thereby preserve the innocent and restrain offenders. and if any one in the state of nature may punish another for any evil he has done, every one may do so: for in that state of perfect equality, where naturally there is no superiority or jurisdiction of one over another, what any may do in prosecution of that law, every one must needs have a right to do. sect. . and thus, in the state of nature, one man comes by a power over another; but yet no absolute or arbitrary power, to use a criminal, when he has got him in his hands, according to the passionate heats, or boundless extravagancy of his own will; but only to retribute to him, so far as calm reason and conscience dictate, what is proportionate to his transgression, which is so much as may serve for reparation and restraint: for these two are the only reasons, why one man may lawfully do harm to another, which is that we call punishment. in transgressing the law of nature, the offender declares himself to live by another rule than that of reason and common equity, which is that measure god has set to the actions of men, for their mutual security; and so he becomes dangerous to mankind, the tye, which is to secure them from injury and violence, being slighted and broken by him. which being a trespass against the whole species, and the peace and safety of it, provided for by the law of nature, every man upon this score, by the right he hath to preserve mankind in general, may restrain, or where it is necessary, destroy things noxious to them, and so may bring such evil on any one, who hath transgressed that law, as may make him repent the doing of it, and thereby deter him, and by his example others, from doing the like mischief. and in the case, and upon this ground, every man hath a right to punish the offender, and be executioner of the law of nature. sect. . i doubt not but this will seem a very strange doctrine to some men: but before they condemn it, i desire them to resolve me, by what right any prince or state can put to death, or punish an alien, for any crime he commits in their country. it is certain their laws, by virtue of any sanction they receive from the promulgated will of the legislative, reach not a stranger: they speak not to him, nor, if they did, is he bound to hearken to them. the legislative authority, by which they are in force over the subjects of that commonwealth, hath no power over him. those who have the supreme power of making laws in england, france or holland, are to an indian, but like the rest of the world, men without authority: and therefore, if by the law of nature every man hath not a power to punish offences against it, as he soberly judges the case to require, i see not how the magistrates of any community can punish an alien of another country; since, in reference to him, they can have no more power than what every man naturally may have over another. sect, . besides the crime which consists in violating the law, and varying from the right rule of reason, whereby a man so far becomes degenerate, and declares himself to quit the principles of human nature, and to be a noxious creature, there is commonly injury done to some person or other, and some other man receives damage by his transgression: in which case he who hath received any damage, has, besides the right of punishment common to him with other men, a particular right to seek reparation from him that has done it: and any other person, who finds it just, may also join with him that is injured, and assist him in recovering from the offender so much as may make satisfaction for the harm he has suffered. sect. . from these two distinct rights, the one of punishing the crime for restraint, and preventing the like offence, which right of punishing is in every body; the other of taking reparation, which belongs only to the injured party, comes it to pass that the magistrate, who by being magistrate hath the common right of punishing put into his hands, can often, where the public good demands not the execution of the law, remit the punishment of criminal offences by his own authority, but yet cannot remit the satisfaction due to any private man for the damage he has received. that, he who has suffered the damage has a right to demand in his own name, and he alone can remit: the damnified person has this power of appropriating to himself the goods or service of the offender, by right of self-preservation, as every man has a power to punish the crime, to prevent its being committed again, by the right he has of preserving all mankind, and doing all reasonable things he can in order to that end: and thus it is, that every man, in the state of nature, has a power to kill a murderer, both to deter others from doing the like injury, which no reparation can compensate, by the example of the punishment that attends it from every body, and also to secure men from the attempts of a criminal, who having renounced reason, the common rule and measure god hath given to mankind, hath, by the unjust violence and slaughter he hath committed upon one, declared war against all mankind, and therefore may be destroyed as a lion or a tyger, one of those wild savage beasts, with whom men can have no society nor security: and upon this is grounded that great law of nature, whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed. and cain was so fully convinced, that every one had a right to destroy such a criminal, that after the murder of his brother, he cries out, every one that findeth me, shall slay me; so plain was it writ in the hearts of all mankind. sect. . by the same reason may a man in the state of nature punish the lesser breaches of that law. it will perhaps be demanded, with death? i answer, each transgression may be punished to that degree, and with so much severity, as will suffice to make it an ill bargain to the offender, give him cause to repent, and terrify others from doing the like. every offence, that can be committed in the state of nature, may in the state of nature be also punished equally, and as far forth as it may, in a commonwealth: for though it would be besides my present purpose, to enter here into the particulars of the law of nature, or its measures of punishment; yet, it is certain there is such a law, and that too, as intelligible and plain to a rational creature, and a studier of that law, as the positive laws of commonwealths; nay, possibly plainer; as much as reason is easier to be understood, than the fancies and intricate contrivances of men, following contrary and hidden interests put into words; for so truly are a great part of the municipal laws of countries, which are only so far right, as they are founded on the law of nature, by which they are to be regulated and interpreted. sect. . to this strange doctrine, viz. that in the state of nature every one has the executive power of the law of nature, i doubt not but it will be objected, that it is unreasonable for men to be judges in their own cases, that self-love will make men partial to themselves and their friends: and on the other side, that ill nature, passion and revenge will carry them too far in punishing others; and hence nothing but confusion and disorder will follow, and that therefore god hath certainly appointed government to restrain the partiality and violence of men. i easily grant, that civil government is the proper remedy for the inconveniencies of the state of nature, which must certainly be great, where men may be judges in their own case, since it is easy to be imagined, that he who was so unjust as to do his brother an injury, will scarce be so just as to condemn himself for it: but i shall desire those who make this objection, to remember, that absolute monarchs are but men; and if government is to be the remedy of those evils, which necessarily follow from men's being judges in their own cases, and the state of nature is therefore not to be endured, i desire to know what kind of government that is, and how much better it is than the state of nature, where one man, commanding a multitude, has the liberty to be judge in his own case, and may do to all his subjects whatever he pleases, without the least liberty to any one to question or controul those who execute his pleasure? and in whatsoever he doth, whether led by reason, mistake or passion, must be submitted to? much better it is in the state of nature, wherein men are not bound to submit to the unjust will of another: and if he that judges, judges amiss in his own, or any other case, he is answerable for it to the rest of mankind. sect. . it is often asked as a mighty objection, where are, or ever were there any men in such a state of nature? to which it may suffice as an answer at present, that since all princes and rulers of independent governments all through the world, are in a state of nature, it is plain the world never was, nor ever will be, without numbers of men in that state. i have named all governors of independent communities, whether they are, or are not, in league with others: for it is not every compact that puts an end to the state of nature between men, but only this one of agreeing together mutually to enter into one community, and make one body politic; other promises, and compacts, men may make one with another, and yet still be in the state of nature. the promises and bargains for truck, &c. between the two men in the desert island, mentioned by garcilasso de la vega, in his history of peru; or between a swiss and an indian, in the woods of america, are binding to them, though they are perfectly in a state of nature, in reference to one another: for truth and keeping of faith belongs to men, as men, and not as members of society. sect. . to those that say, there were never any men in the state of nature, i will not only oppose the authority of the judicious hooker, eccl. pol. lib. i. sect. , where he says, /# the laws which have been hitherto mentioned, i.e. the laws of nature, do bind men absolutely, even as they are men, although they have never any settled fellowship, never any solemn agreement amongst themselves what to do, or not to do: but forasmuch as we are not by ourselves sufficient to furnish ourselves with competent store of things, needful for such a life as our nature doth desire, a life fit for the dignity of man; therefore to supply those defects and imperfections which are in us, as living single and solely by ourselves, we are naturally induced to seek communion and fellowship with others: this was the cause of men's uniting themselves at first in politic societies. #/ but i moreover affirm, that all men are naturally in that state, and remain so, till by their own consents they make themselves members of some politic society; and i doubt not in the sequel of this discourse, to make it very clear. chapter. iii. of the state of war. sect. . the state of war is a state of enmity and destruction: and therefore declaring by word or action, not a passionate and hasty, but a sedate settled design upon another man's life, puts him in a state of war with him against whom he has declared such an intention, and so has exposed his life to the other's power to be taken away by him, or any one that joins with him in his defence, and espouses his quarrel; it being reasonable and just, i should have a right to destroy that which threatens me with destruction: for, by the fundamental law of nature, man being to be preserved as much as possible, when all cannot be preserved, the safety of the innocent is to be preferred: and one may destroy a man who makes war upon him, or has discovered an enmity to his being, for the same reason that he may kill a wolf or a lion; because such men are not under the ties of the commonlaw of reason, have no other rule, but that of force and violence, and so may be treated as beasts of prey, those dangerous and noxious creatures, that will be sure to destroy him whenever he falls into their power. sect. . and hence it is, that he who attempts to get another man into his absolute power, does thereby put himself into a state of war with him; it being to be understood as a declaration of a design upon his life: for i have reason to conclude, that he who would get me into his power without my consent, would use me as he pleased when he had got me there, and destroy me too when he had a fancy to it; for no body can desire to have me in his absolute power, unless it be to compel me by force to that which is against the right of my freedom, i.e. make me a slave. to be free from such force is the only security of my preservation; and reason bids me look on him, as an enemy to my preservation, who would take away that freedom which is the fence to it; so that he who makes an attempt to enslave me, thereby puts himself into a state of war with me. he that, in the state of nature, would take away the freedom that belongs to any one in that state, must necessarily be supposed to have a design to take away every thing else, that freedom being the foundation of all the rest; as he that, in the state of society, would take away the freedom belonging to those of that society or commonwealth, must be supposed to design to take away from them every thing else, and so be looked on as in a state of war. sect. . this makes it lawful for a man to kill a thief, who has not in the least hurt him, nor declared any design upon his life, any farther than, by the use of force, so to get him in his power, as to take away his money, or what he pleases, from him; because using force, where he has no right, to get me into his power, let his pretence be what it will, i have no reason to suppose, that he, who would take away my liberty, would not, when he had me in his power, take away every thing else. and therefore it is lawful for me to treat him as one who has put himself into a state of war with me, i.e. kill him if i can; for to that hazard does he justly expose himself, whoever introduces a state of war, and is aggressor in it. sect. . and here we have the plain difference between the state of nature and the state of war, which however some men have confounded, are as far distant, as a state of peace, good will, mutual assistance and preservation, and a state of enmity, malice, violence and mutual destruction, are one from another. men living together according to reason, without a common superior on earth, with authority to judge between them, is properly the state of nature. but force, or a declared design of force, upon the person of another, where there is no common superior on earth to appeal to for relief, is the state of war: and it is the want of such an appeal gives a man the right of war even against an aggressor, tho' he be in society and a fellow subject. thus a thief, whom i cannot harm, but by appeal to the law, for having stolen all that i am worth, i may kill, when he sets on me to rob me but of my horse or coat; because the law, which was made for my preservation, where it cannot interpose to secure my life from present force, which, if lost, is capable of no reparation, permits me my own defence, and the right of war, a liberty to kill the aggressor, because the aggressor allows not time to appeal to our common judge, nor the decision of the law, for remedy in a case where the mischief may be irreparable. want of a common judge with authority, puts all men in a state of nature: force without right, upon a man's person, makes a state of war, both where there is, and is not, a common judge. sect. . but when the actual force is over, the state of war ceases between those that are in society, and are equally on both sides subjected to the fair determination of the law; because then there lies open the remedy of appeal for the past injury, and to prevent future harm: but where no such appeal is, as in the state of nature, for want of positive laws, and judges with authority to appeal to, the state of war once begun, continues, with a right to the innocent party to destroy the other whenever he can, until the aggressor offers peace, and desires reconciliation on such terms as may repair any wrongs he has already done, and secure the innocent for the future; nay, where an appeal to the law, and constituted judges, lies open, but the remedy is denied by a manifest perverting of justice, and a barefaced wresting of the laws to protect or indemnify the violence or injuries of some men, or party of men, there it is hard to imagine any thing but a state of war: for wherever violence is used, and injury done, though by hands appointed to administer justice, it is still violence and injury, however coloured with the name, pretences, or forms of law, the end whereof being to protect and redress the innocent, by an unbiassed application of it, to all who are under it; wherever that is not bona fide done, war is made upon the sufferers, who having no appeal on earth to right them, they are left to the only remedy in such cases, an appeal to heaven. sect. . to avoid this state of war (wherein there is no appeal but to heaven, and wherein every the least difference is apt to end, where there is no authority to decide between the contenders) is one great reason of men's putting themselves into society, and quitting the state of nature: for where there is an authority, a power on earth, from which relief can be had by appeal, there the continuance of the state of war is excluded, and the controversy is decided by that power. had there been any such court, any superior jurisdiction on earth, to determine the right between jephtha and the ammonites, they had never come to a state of war: but we see he was forced to appeal to heaven. the lord the judge (says he) be judge this day between the children of israel and the children of ammon, judg. xi. . and then prosecuting, and relying on his appeal, he leads out his army to battle: and therefore in such controversies, where the question is put, who shall be judge? it cannot be meant, who shall decide the controversy; every one knows what jephtha here tells us, that the lord the judge shall judge. where there is no judge on earth, the appeal lies to god in heaven. that question then cannot mean, who shall judge, whether another hath put himself in a state of war with me, and whether i may, as jephtha did, appeal to heaven in it? of that i myself can only be judge in my own conscience, as i will answer it, at the great day, to the supreme judge of all men. chapter. iv. of slavery. sect. . the natural liberty of man is to be free from any superior power on earth, and not to be under the will or legislative authority of man, but to have only the law of nature for his rule. the liberty of man, in society, is to be under no other legislative power, but that established, by consent, in the commonwealth; nor under the dominion of any will, or restraint of any law, but what that legislative shall enact, according to the trust put in it. freedom then is not what sir robert filmer tells us, observations, a. . a liberty for every one to do what he lists, to live as he pleases, and not to be tied by any laws: but freedom of men under government is, to have a standing rule to live by, common to every one of that society, and made by the legislative power erected in it; a liberty to follow my own will in all things, where the rule prescribes not; and not to be subject to the inconstant, uncertain, unknown, arbitrary will of another man: as freedom of nature is, to be under no other restraint but the law of nature. sect. . this freedom from absolute, arbitrary power, is so necessary to, and closely joined with a man's preservation, that he cannot part with it, but by what forfeits his preservation and life together: for a man, not having the power of his own life, cannot, by compact, or his own consent, enslave himself to any one, nor put himself under the absolute, arbitrary power of another, to take away his life, when he pleases. no body can give more power than he has himself; and he that cannot take away his own life, cannot give another power over it. indeed, having by his fault forfeited his own life, by some act that deserves death; he, to whom he has forfeited it, may (when he has him in his power) delay to take it, and make use of him to his own service, and he does him no injury by it: for, whenever he finds the hardship of his slavery outweigh the value of his life, it is in his power, by resisting the will of his master, to draw on himself the death he desires. sect. . this is the perfect condition of slavery, which is nothing else, but the state of war continued, between a lawful conqueror and a captive: for, if once compact enter between them, and make an agreement for a limited power on the one side, and obedience on the other, the state of war and slavery ceases, as long as the compact endures: for, as has been said, no man can, by agreement, pass over to another that which he hath not in himself, a power over his own life. i confess, we find among the jews, as well as other nations, that men did sell themselves; but, it is plain, this was only to drudgery, not to slavery: for, it is evident, the person sold was not under an absolute, arbitrary, despotical power: for the master could not have power to kill him, at any time, whom, at a certain time, he was obliged to let go free out of his service; and the master of such a servant was so far from having an arbitrary power over his life, that he could not, at pleasure, so much as maim him, but the loss of an eye, or tooth, set him free, exod. xxi. chapter. v. of property. sect. . whether we consider natural reason, which tells us, that men, being once born, have a right to their preservation, and consequently to meat and drink, and such other things as nature affords for their subsistence: or revelation, which gives us an account of those grants god made of the world to adam, and to noah, and his sons, it is very clear, that god, as king david says, psal. cxv. . has given the earth to the children of men; given it to mankind in common. but this being supposed, it seems to some a very great difficulty, how any one should ever come to have a property in any thing: i will not content myself to answer, that if it be difficult to make out property, upon a supposition that god gave the world to adam, and his posterity in common, it is impossible that any man, but one universal monarch, should have any property upon a supposition, that god gave the world to adam, and his heirs in succession, exclusive of all the rest of his posterity. but i shall endeavour to shew, how men might come to have a property in several parts of that which god gave to mankind in common, and that without any express compact of all the commoners. sect. . god, who hath given the world to men in common, hath also given them reason to make use of it to the best advantage of life, and convenience. the earth, and all that is therein, is given to men for the support and comfort of their being. and tho' all the fruits it naturally produces, and beasts it feeds, belong to mankind in common, as they are produced by the spontaneous hand of nature; and no body has originally a private dominion, exclusive of the rest of mankind, in any of them, as they are thus in their natural state: yet being given for the use of men, there must of necessity be a means to appropriate them some way or other, before they can be of any use, or at all beneficial to any particular man. the fruit, or venison, which nourishes the wild indian, who knows no enclosure, and is still a tenant in common, must be his, and so his, i.e. a part of him, that another can no longer have any right to it, before it can do him any good for the support of his life. sect. . though the earth, and all inferior creatures, be common to all men, yet every man has a property in his own person: this no body has any right to but himself. the labour of his body, and the work of his hands, we may say, are properly his. whatsoever then he removes out of the state that nature hath provided, and left it in, he hath mixed his labour with, and joined to it something that is his own, and thereby makes it his property. it being by him removed from the common state nature hath placed it in, it hath by this labour something annexed to it, that excludes the common right of other men: for this labour being the unquestionable property of the labourer, no man but he can have a right to what that is once joined to, at least where there is enough, and as good, left in common for others. sect. . he that is nourished by the acorns he picked up under an oak, or the apples he gathered from the trees in the wood, has certainly appropriated them to himself. no body can deny but the nourishment is his. i ask then, when did they begin to be his? when he digested? or when he eat? or when he boiled? or when he brought them home? or when he picked them up? and it is plain, if the first gathering made them not his, nothing else could. that labour put a distinction between them and common: that added something to them more than nature, the common mother of all, had done; and so they became his private right. and will any one say, he had no right to those acorns or apples, he thus appropriated, because he had not the consent of all mankind to make them his? was it a robbery thus to assume to himself what belonged to all in common? if such a consent as that was necessary, man had starved, notwithstanding the plenty god had given him. we see in commons, which remain so by compact, that it is the taking any part of what is common, and removing it out of the state nature leaves it in, which begins the property; without which the common is of no use. and the taking of this or that part, does not depend on the express consent of all the commoners. thus the grass my horse has bit; the turfs my servant has cut; and the ore i have digged in any place, where i have a right to them in common with others, become my property, without the assignation or consent of any body. the labour that was mine, removing them out of that common state they were in, hath fixed my property in them. sect. . by making an explicit consent of every commoner, necessary to any one's appropriating to himself any part of what is given in common, children or servants could not cut the meat, which their father or master had provided for them in common, without assigning to every one his peculiar part. though the water running in the fountain be every one's, yet who can doubt, but that in the pitcher is his only who drew it out? his labour hath taken it out of the hands of nature, where it was common, and belonged equally to all her children, and hath thereby appropriated it to himself. sect. . thus this law of reason makes the deer that indian's who hath killed it; it is allowed to be his goods, who hath bestowed his labour upon it, though before it was the common right of every one. and amongst those who are counted the civilized part of mankind, who have made and multiplied positive laws to determine property, this original law of nature, for the beginning of property, in what was before common, still takes place; and by virtue thereof, what fish any one catches in the ocean, that great and still remaining common of mankind; or what ambergrise any one takes up here, is by the labour that removes it out of that common state nature left it in, made his property, who takes that pains about it. and even amongst us, the hare that any one is hunting, is thought his who pursues her during the chase: for being a beast that is still looked upon as common, and no man's private possession; whoever has employed so much labour about any of that kind, as to find and pursue her, has thereby removed her from the state of nature, wherein she was common, and hath begun a property. sect. . it will perhaps be objected to this, that if gathering the acorns, or other fruits of the earth, &c. makes a right to them, then any one may ingross as much as he will. to which i answer, not so. the same law of nature, that does by this means give us property, does also bound that property too. god has given us all things richly, tim. vi. . is the voice of reason confirmed by inspiration. but how far has he given it us? to enjoy. as much as any one can make use of to any advantage of life before it spoils, so much he may by his labour fix a property in: whatever is beyond this, is more than his share, and belongs to others. nothing was made by god for man to spoil or destroy. and thus, considering the plenty of natural provisions there was a long time in the world, and the few spenders; and to how small a part of that provision the industry of one man could extend itself, and ingross it to the prejudice of others; especially keeping within the bounds, set by reason, of what might serve for his use; there could be then little room for quarrels or contentions about property so established. sect. . but the chief matter of property being now not the fruits of the earth, and the beasts that subsist on it, but the earth itself; as that which takes in and carries with it all the rest; i think it is plain, that property in that too is acquired as the former. as much land as a man tills, plants, improves, cultivates, and can use the product of, so much is his property. he by his labour does, as it were, inclose it from the common. nor will it invalidate his right, to say every body else has an equal title to it; and therefore he cannot appropriate, he cannot inclose, without the consent of all his fellow-commoners, all mankind. god, when he gave the world in common to all mankind, commanded man also to labour, and the penury of his condition required it of him. god and his reason commanded him to subdue the earth, i.e. improve it for the benefit of life, and therein lay out something upon it that was his own, his labour. he that in obedience to this command of god, subdued, tilled and sowed any part of it, thereby annexed to it something that was his property, which another had no title to, nor could without injury take from him. sect. . nor was this appropriation of any parcel of land, by improving it, any prejudice to any other man, since there was still enough, and as good left; and more than the yet unprovided could use. so that, in effect, there was never the less left for others because of his enclosure for himself: for he that leaves as much as another can make use of, does as good as take nothing at all. no body could think himself injured by the drinking of another man, though he took a good draught, who had a whole river of the same water left him to quench his thirst: and the case of land and water, where there is enough of both, is perfectly the same. sect. . god gave the world to men in common; but since he gave it them for their benefit, and the greatest conveniencies of life they were capable to draw from it, it cannot be supposed he meant it should always remain common and uncultivated. he gave it to the use of the industrious and rational, (and labour was to be his title to it;) not to the fancy or covetousness of the quarrelsome and contentious. he that had as good left for his improvement, as was already taken up, needed not complain, ought not to meddle with what was already improved by another's labour: if he did, it is plain he desired the benefit of another's pains, which he had no right to, and not the ground which god had given him in common with others to labour on, and whereof there was as good left, as that already possessed, and more than he knew what to do with, or his industry could reach to. sect. . it is true, in land that is common in england, or any other country, where there is plenty of people under government, who have money and commerce, no one can inclose or appropriate any part, without the consent of all his fellow-commoners; because this is left common by compact, i.e. by the law of the land, which is not to be violated. and though it be common, in respect of some men, it is not so to all mankind; but is the joint property of this country, or this parish. besides, the remainder, after such enclosure, would not be as good to the rest of the commoners, as the whole was when they could all make use of the whole; whereas in the beginning and first peopling of the great common of the world, it was quite otherwise. the law man was under, was rather for appropriating. god commanded, and his wants forced him to labour. that was his property which could not be taken from him where-ever he had fixed it. and hence subduing or cultivating the earth, and having dominion, we see are joined together. the one gave title to the other. so that god, by commanding to subdue, gave authority so far to appropriate: and the condition of human life, which requires labour and materials to work on, necessarily introduces private possessions. sect. . the measure of property nature has well set by the extent of men's labour and the conveniencies of life: no man's labour could subdue, or appropriate all; nor could his enjoyment consume more than a small part; so that it was impossible for any man, this way, to intrench upon the right of another, or acquire to himself a property, to the prejudice of his neighbour, who would still have room for as good, and as large a possession (after the other had taken out his) as before it was appropriated. this measure did confine every man's possession to a very moderate proportion, and such as he might appropriate to himself, without injury to any body, in the first ages of the world, when men were more in danger to be lost, by wandering from their company, in the then vast wilderness of the earth, than to be straitened for want of room to plant in. and the same measure may be allowed still without prejudice to any body, as full as the world seems: for supposing a man, or family, in the state they were at first peopling of the world by the children of adam, or noah; let him plant in some inland, vacant places of america, we shall find that the possessions he could make himself, upon the measures we have given, would not be very large, nor, even to this day, prejudice the rest of mankind, or give them reason to complain, or think themselves injured by this man's incroachment, though the race of men have now spread themselves to all the corners of the world, and do infinitely exceed the small number was at the beginning. nay, the extent of ground is of so little value, without labour, that i have heard it affirmed, that in spain itself a man may be permitted to plough, sow and reap, without being disturbed, upon land he has no other title to, but only his making use of it. but, on the contrary, the inhabitants think themselves beholden to him, who, by his industry on neglected, and consequently waste land, has increased the stock of corn, which they wanted. but be this as it will, which i lay no stress on; this i dare boldly affirm, that the same rule of propriety, (viz.) that every man should have as much as he could make use of, would hold still in the world, without straitening any body; since there is land enough in the world to suffice double the inhabitants, had not the invention of money, and the tacit agreement of men to put a value on it, introduced (by consent) larger possessions, and a right to them; which, how it has done, i shall by and by shew more at large. sect. . this is certain, that in the beginning, before the desire of having more than man needed had altered the intrinsic value of things, which depends only on their usefulness to the life of man; or had agreed, that a little piece of yellow metal, which would keep without wasting or decay, should be worth a great piece of flesh, or a whole heap of corn; though men had a right to appropriate, by their labour, each one of himself, as much of the things of nature, as he could use: yet this could not be much, nor to the prejudice of others, where the same plenty was still left to those who would use the same industry. to which let me add, that he who appropriates land to himself by his labour, does not lessen, but increase the common stock of mankind: for the provisions serving to the support of human life, produced by one acre of inclosed and cultivated land, are (to speak much within compass) ten times more than those which are yielded by an acre of land of an equal richness lying waste in common. and therefore he that incloses land, and has a greater plenty of the conveniencies of life from ten acres, than he could have from an hundred left to nature, may truly be said to give ninety acres to mankind: for his labour now supplies him with provisions out of ten acres, which were but the product of an hundred lying in common. i have here rated the improved land very low, in making its product but as ten to one, when it is much nearer an hundred to one: for i ask, whether in the wild woods and uncultivated waste of america, left to nature, without any improvement, tillage or husbandry, a thousand acres yield the needy and wretched inhabitants as many conveniencies of life, as ten acres of equally fertile land do in devonshire, where they are well cultivated? before the appropriation of land, he who gathered as much of the wild fruit, killed, caught, or tamed, as many of the beasts, as he could; he that so imployed his pains about any of the spontaneous products of nature, as any way to alter them from the state which nature put them in, by placing any of his labour on them, did thereby acquire a propriety in them: but if they perished, in his possession, without their due use; if the fruits rotted, or the venison putrified, before he could spend it, he offended against the common law of nature, and was liable to be punished; he invaded his neighbour's share, for he had no right, farther than his use called for any of them, and they might serve to afford him conveniencies of life. sect. . the same measures governed the possession of land too: whatsoever he tilled and reaped, laid up and made use of, before it spoiled, that was his peculiar right; whatsoever he enclosed, and could feed, and make use of, the cattle and product was also his. but if either the grass of his enclosure rotted on the ground, or the fruit of his planting perished without gathering, and laying up, this part of the earth, notwithstanding his enclosure, was still to be looked on as waste, and might be the possession of any other. thus, at the beginning, cain might take as much ground as he could till, and make it his own land, and yet leave enough to abel's sheep to feed on; a few acres would serve for both their possessions. but as families increased, and industry inlarged their stocks, their possessions inlarged with the need of them; but yet it was commonly without any fixed property in the ground they made use of, till they incorporated, settled themselves together, and built cities; and then, by consent, they came in time, to set out the bounds of their distinct territories, and agree on limits between them and their neighbours; and by laws within themselves, settled the properties of those of the same society: for we see, that in that part of the world which was first inhabited, and therefore like to be best peopled, even as low down as abraham's time, they wandered with their flocks, and their herds, which was their substance, freely up and down; and this abraham did, in a country where he was a stranger. whence it is plain, that at least a great part of the land lay in common; that the inhabitants valued it not, nor claimed property in any more than they made use of. but when there was not room enough in the same place, for their herds to feed together, they by consent, as abraham and lot did, gen. xiii. . separated and inlarged their pasture, where it best liked them. and for the same reason esau went from his father, and his brother, and planted in mount seir, gen. xxxvi. . sect. . and thus, without supposing any private dominion, and property in adam, over all the world, exclusive of all other men, which can no way be proved, nor any one's property be made out from it; but supposing the world given, as it was, to the children of men in common, we see how labour could make men distinct titles to several parcels of it, for their private uses; wherein there could be no doubt of right, no room for quarrel. sect. . nor is it so strange, as perhaps before consideration it may appear, that the property of labour should be able to over-balance the community of land: for it is labour indeed that puts the difference of value on every thing; and let any one consider what the difference is between an acre of land planted with tobacco or sugar, sown with wheat or barley, and an acre of the same land lying in common, without any husbandry upon it, and he will find, that the improvement of labour makes the far greater part of the value. i think it will be but a very modest computation to say, that of the products of the earth useful to the life of man nine tenths are the effects of labour: nay, if we will rightly estimate things as they come to our use, and cast up the several expences about them, what in them is purely owing to nature, and what to labour, we shall find, that in most of them ninety-nine hundredths are wholly to be put on the account of labour. sect. . there cannot be a clearer demonstration of any thing, than several nations of the americans are of this, who are rich in land, and poor in all the comforts of life; whom nature having furnished as liberally as any other people, with the materials of plenty, i.e. a fruitful soil, apt to produce in abundance, what might serve for food, raiment, and delight; yet for want of improving it by labour, have not one hundredth part of the conveniencies we enjoy: and a king of a large and fruitful territory there, feeds, lodges, and is clad worse than a day-labourer in england. sect. . to make this a little clearer, let us but trace some of the ordinary provisions of life, through their several progresses, before they come to our use, and see how much they receive of their value from human industry. bread, wine and cloth, are things of daily use, and great plenty; yet notwithstanding, acorns, water and leaves, or skins, must be our bread, drink and cloathing, did not labour furnish us with these more useful commodities: for whatever bread is more worth than acorns, wine than water, and cloth or silk, than leaves, skins or moss, that is wholly owing to labour and industry; the one of these being the food and raiment which unassisted nature furnishes us with; the other, provisions which our industry and pains prepare for us, which how much they exceed the other in value, when any one hath computed, he will then see how much labour makes the far greatest part of the value of things we enjoy in this world: and the ground which produces the materials, is scarce to be reckoned in, as any, or at most, but a very small part of it; so little, that even amongst us, land that is left wholly to nature, that hath no improvement of pasturage, tillage, or planting, is called, as indeed it is, waste; and we shall find the benefit of it amount to little more than nothing. this shews how much numbers of men are to be preferred to largeness of dominions; and that the increase of lands, and the right employing of them, is the great art of government: and that prince, who shall be so wise and godlike, as by established laws of liberty to secure protection and encouragement to the honest industry of mankind, against the oppression of power and narrowness of party, will quickly be too hard for his neighbours: but this by the by. to return to the argument in hand. sect. . an acre of land, that bears here twenty bushels of wheat, and another in america, which, with the same husbandry, would do the like, are, without doubt, of the same natural intrinsic value: but yet the benefit mankind receives from the one in a year, is worth l. and from the other possibly not worth a penny, if all the profit an indian received from it were to be valued, and sold here; at least, i may truly say, not one thousandth. it is labour then which puts the greatest part of value upon land, without which it would scarcely be worth any thing: it is to that we owe the greatest part of all its useful products; for all that the straw, bran, bread, of that acre of wheat, is more worth than the product of an acre of as good land, which lies waste, is all the effect of labour: for it is not barely the plough-man's pains, the reaper's and thresher's toil, and the baker's sweat, is to be counted into the bread we eat; the labour of those who broke the oxen, who digged and wrought the iron and stones, who felled and framed the timber employed about the plough, mill, oven, or any other utensils, which are a vast number, requisite to this corn, from its being feed to be sown to its being made bread, must all be charged on the account of labour, and received as an effect of that: nature and the earth furnished only the almost worthless materials, as in themselves. it would be a strange catalogue of things, that industry provided and made use of, about every loaf of bread, before it came to our use, if we could trace them; iron, wood, leather, bark, timber, stone, bricks, coals, lime, cloth, dying drugs, pitch, tar, masts, ropes, and all the materials made use of in the ship, that brought any of the commodities made use of by any of the workmen, to any part of the work; all which it would be almost impossible, at least too long, to reckon up. sect. . from all which it is evident, that though the things of nature are given in common, yet man, by being master of himself, and proprietor of his own person, and the actions or labour of it, had still in himself the great foundation of property; and that, which made up the great part of what he applied to the support or comfort of his being, when invention and arts had improved the conveniencies of life, was perfectly his own, and did not belong in common to others. sect. . thus labour, in the beginning, gave a right of property, wherever any one was pleased to employ it upon what was common, which remained a long while the far greater part, and is yet more than mankind makes use of. men, at first, for the most part, contented themselves with what unassisted nature offered to their necessities: and though afterwards, in some parts of the world, (where the increase of people and stock, with the use of money, had made land scarce, and so of some value) the several communities settled the bounds of their distinct territories, and by laws within themselves regulated the properties of the private men of their society, and so, by compact and agreement, settled the property which labour and industry began; and the leagues that have been made between several states and kingdoms, either expresly or tacitly disowning all claim and right to the land in the others possession, have, by common consent, given up their pretences to their natural common right, which originally they had to those countries, and so have, by positive agreement, settled a property amongst themselves, in distinct parts and parcels of the earth; yet there are still great tracts of ground to be found, which (the inhabitants thereof not having joined with the rest of mankind, in the consent of the use of their common money) lie waste, and are more than the people who dwell on it do, or can make use of, and so still lie in common; tho' this can scarce happen amongst that part of mankind that have consented to the use of money. sect. . the greatest part of things really useful to the life of man, and such as the necessity of subsisting made the first commoners of the world look after, as it doth the americans now, are generally things of short duration; such as, if they are not consumed by use, will decay and perish of themselves: gold, silver and diamonds, are things that fancy or agreement hath put the value on, more than real use, and the necessary support of life. now of those good things which nature hath provided in common, every one had a right (as hath been said) to as much as he could use, and property in all that he could effect with his labour; all that his industry could extend to, to alter from the state nature had put it in, was his. he that gathered a hundred bushels of acorns or apples, had thereby a property in them, they were his goods as soon as gathered. he was only to look, that he used them before they spoiled, else he took more than his share, and robbed others. and indeed it was a foolish thing, as well as dishonest, to hoard up more than he could make use of. if he gave away a part to any body else, so that it perished not uselesly in his possession, these he also made use of. and if he also bartered away plums, that would have rotted in a week, for nuts that would last good for his eating a whole year, he did no injury; he wasted not the common stock; destroyed no part of the portion of goods that belonged to others, so long as nothing perished uselesly in his hands. again, if he would give his nuts for a piece of metal, pleased with its colour; or exchange his sheep for shells, or wool for a sparkling pebble or a diamond, and keep those by him all his life he invaded not the right of others, he might heap up as much of these durable things as he pleased; the exceeding of the bounds of his just property not lying in the largeness of his possession, but the perishing of any thing uselesly in it. sect. . and thus came in the use of money, some lasting thing that men might keep without spoiling, and that by mutual consent men would take in exchange for the truly useful, but perishable supports of life. sect. . and as different degrees of industry were apt to give men possessions in different proportions, so this invention of money gave them the opportunity to continue and enlarge them: for supposing an island, separate from all possible commerce with the rest of the world, wherein there were but an hundred families, but there were sheep, horses and cows, with other useful animals, wholsome fruits, and land enough for corn for a hundred thousand times as many, but nothing in the island, either because of its commonness, or perishableness, fit to supply the place of money; what reason could any one have there to enlarge his possessions beyond the use of his family, and a plentiful supply to its consumption, either in what their own industry produced, or they could barter for like perishable, useful commodities, with others? where there is not some thing, both lasting and scarce, and so valuable to be hoarded up, there men will not be apt to enlarge their possessions of land, were it never so rich, never so free for them to take: for i ask, what would a man value ten thousand, or an hundred thousand acres of excellent land, ready cultivated, and well stocked too with cattle, in the middle of the inland parts of america, where he had no hopes of commerce with other parts of the world, to draw money to him by the sale of the product? it would not be worth the enclosing, and we should see him give up again to the wild common of nature, whatever was more than would supply the conveniencies of life to be had there for him and his family. sect. . thus in the beginning all the world was america, and more so than that is now; for no such thing as money was any where known. find out something that hath the use and value of money amongst his neighbours, you shall see the same man will begin presently to enlarge his possessions. sect. . but since gold and silver, being little useful to the life of man in proportion to food, raiment, and carriage, has its value only from the consent of men, whereof labour yet makes, in great part, the measure, it is plain, that men have agreed to a disproportionate and unequal possession of the earth, they having, by a tacit and voluntary consent, found out, a way how a man may fairly possess more land than he himself can use the product of, by receiving in exchange for the overplus gold and silver, which may be hoarded up without injury to any one; these metals not spoiling or decaying in the hands of the possessor. this partage of things in an inequality of private possessions, men have made practicable out of the bounds of society, and without compact, only by putting a value on gold and silver, and tacitly agreeing in the use of money: for in governments, the laws regulate the right of property, and the possession of land is determined by positive constitutions. sect. . and thus, i think, it is very easy to conceive, without any difficulty, how labour could at first begin a title of property in the common things of nature, and how the spending it upon our uses bounded it. so that there could then be no reason of quarrelling about title, nor any doubt about the largeness of possession it gave. right and conveniency went together; for as a man had a right to all he could employ his labour upon, so he had no temptation to labour for more than he could make use of. this left no room for controversy about the title, nor for encroachment on the right of others; what portion a man carved to himself, was easily seen; and it was useless, as well as dishonest, to carve himself too much, or take more than he needed. chapter. vi. of paternal power. sect. . it may perhaps be censured as an impertinent criticism, in a discourse of this nature, to find fault with words and names, that have obtained in the world: and yet possibly it may not be amiss to offer new ones, when the old are apt to lead men into mistakes, as this of paternal power probably has done, which seems so to place the power of parents over their children wholly in the father, as if the mother had no share in it; whereas, if we consult reason or revelation, we shall find, she hath an equal title. this may give one reason to ask, whether this might not be more properly called parental power? for whatever obligation nature and the right of generation lays on children, it must certainly bind them equal to both the concurrent causes of it. and accordingly we see the positive law of god every where joins them together, without distinction, when it commands the obedience of children, honour thy father and thy mother, exod. xx. . whosoever curseth his father or his mother, lev. xx. . ye shall fear every man his mother and his father, lev. xix. . children, obey your parents, &c. eph. vi. . is the stile of the old and new testament. sect. . had but this one thing been well considered, without looking any deeper into the matter, it might perhaps have kept men from running into those gross mistakes, they have made, about this power of parents; which, however it might, without any great harshness, bear the name of absolute dominion, and regal authority, when under the title of paternal power it seemed appropriated to the father, would yet have founded but oddly, and in the very name shewn the absurdity, if this supposed absolute power over children had been called parental; and thereby have discovered, that it belonged to the mother too: for it will but very ill serve the turn of those men, who contend so much for the absolute power and authority of the fatherhood, as they call it, that the mother should have any share in it; and it would have but ill supported the monarchy they contend for, when by the very name it appeared, that that fundamental authority, from whence they would derive their government of a single person only, was not placed in one, but two persons jointly. but to let this of names pass. sect. . though i have said above, chap. ii. that all men by nature are equal, i cannot be supposed to understand all sorts of equality: age or virtue may give men a just precedency: excellency of parts and merit may place others above the common level: birth may subject some, and alliance or benefits others, to pay an observance to those to whom nature, gratitude, or other respects, may have made it due: and yet all this consists with the equality, which all men are in, in respect of jurisdiction or dominion one over another; which was the equality i there spoke of, as proper to the business in hand, being that equal right, that every man hath, to his natural freedom, without being subjected to the will or authority of any other man. sect. . children, i confess, are not born in this full state of equality, though they are born to it. their parents have a sort of rule and jurisdiction over them, when they come into the world, and for some time after; but it is but a temporary one. the bonds of this subjection are like the swaddling clothes they are wrapt up in, and supported by, in the weakness of their infancy: age and reason as they grow up, loosen them, till at length they drop quite off, and leave a man at his own free disposal. sect. . adam was created a perfect man, his body and mind in full possession of their strength and reason, and so was capable, from the first instant of his being to provide for his own support and preservation, and govern his actions according to the dictates of the law of reason which god had implanted in him. from him the world is peopled with his descendants, who are all born infants, weak and helpless, without knowledge or understanding: but to supply the defects of this imperfect state, till the improvement of growth and age hath removed them, adam and eve, and after them all parents were, by the law of nature, under an obligation to preserve, nourish, and educate the children they had begotten; not as their own workmanship, but the workmanship of their own maker, the almighty, to whom they were to be accountable for them. sect. . the law, that was to govern adam, was the same that was to govern all his posterity, the law of reason. but his offspring having another way of entrance into the world, different from him, by a natural birth, that produced them ignorant and without the use of reason, they were not presently under that law; for no body can be under a law, which is not promulgated to him; and this law being promulgated or made known by reason only, he that is not come to the use of his reason, cannot be said to be under this law; and adam's children, being not presently as soon as born under this law of reason, were not presently free: for law, in its true notion, is not so much the limitation as the direction of a free and intelligent agent to his proper interest, and prescribes no farther than is for the general good of those under that law: could they be happier without it, the law, as an useless thing, would of itself vanish; and that ill deserves the name of confinement which hedges us in only from bogs and precipices. so that, however it may be mistaken, the end of law is not to abolish or restrain, but to preserve and enlarge freedom: for in all the states of created beings capable of laws, where there is no law, there is no freedom: for liberty is, to be free from restraint and violence from others; which cannot be, where there is no law: but freedom is not, as we are told, a liberty for every man to do what he lists: (for who could be free, when every other man's humour might domineer over him?) but a liberty to dispose, and order as he lists, his person, actions, possessions, and his whole property, within the allowance of those laws under which he is, and therein not to be subject to the arbitrary will of another, but freely follow his own. sect. . the power, then, that parents have over their children, arises from that duty which is incumbent on them, to take care of their off-spring, during the imperfect state of childhood. to inform the mind, and govern the actions of their yet ignorant nonage, till reason shall take its place, and ease them of that trouble, is what the children want, and the parents are bound to: for god having given man an understanding to direct his actions, has allowed him a freedom of will, and liberty of acting, as properly belonging thereunto, within the bounds of that law he is under. but whilst he is in an estate, wherein he has not understanding of his own to direct his will, he is not to have any will of his own to follow: he that understands for him, must will for him too; he must prescribe to his will, and regulate his actions; but when he comes to the estate that made his father a freeman, the son is a freeman too. sect. . this holds in all the laws a man is under, whether natural or civil. is a man under the law of nature? what made him free of that law? what gave him a free disposing of his property, according to his own will, within the compass of that law? i answer, a state of maturity wherein he might be supposed capable to know that law, that so he might keep his actions within the bounds of it. when he has acquired that state, he is presumed to know how far that law is to be his guide, and how far he may make use of his freedom, and so comes to have it; till then, some body else must guide him, who is presumed to know how far the law allows a liberty. if such a state of reason, such an age of discretion made him free, the same shall make his son free too. is a man under the law of england? what made him free of that law? that is, to have the liberty to dispose of his actions and possessions according to his own will, within the permission of that law? a capacity of knowing that law; which is supposed by that law, at the age of one and twenty years, and in some cases sooner. if this made the father free, it shall make the son free too. till then we see the law allows the son to have no will, but he is to be guided by the will of his father or guardian, who is to understand for him. and if the father die, and fail to substitute a deputy in his trust; if he hath not provided a tutor, to govern his son, during his minority, during his want of understanding, the law takes care to do it; some other must govern him, and be a will to him, till he hath attained to a state of freedom, and his understanding be fit to take the government of his will. but after that, the father and son are equally free as much as tutor and pupil after nonage; equally subjects of the same law together, without any dominion left in the father over the life, liberty, or estate of his son, whether they be only in the state and under the law of nature, or under the positive laws of an established government. sect. . but if, through defects that may happen out of the ordinary course of nature, any one comes not to such a degree of reason, wherein he might be supposed capable of knowing the law, and so living within the rules of it, he is never capable of being a free man, he is never let loose to the disposure of his own will (because he knows no bounds to it, has not understanding, its proper guide) but is continued under the tuition and government of others, all the time his own understanding is uncapable of that charge. and so lunatics and ideots are never set free from the government of their parents; /# children, who are not as yet come unto those years whereat they may have; and innocents which are excluded by a natural defect from ever having; thirdly, madmen, which for the present cannot possibly have the use of right reason to guide themselves, have for their guide, the reason that guideth other men which are tutors over them, to seek and procure their good for them, #/ says hooker, eccl. pol. lib. i. sec. . all which seems no more than that duty, which god and nature has laid on man, as well as other creatures, to preserve their offspring, till they can be able to shift for themselves, and will scarce amount to an instance or proof of parents regal authority. sect. . thus we are born free, as we are born rational; not that we have actually the exercise of either: age, that brings one, brings with it the other too. and thus we see how natural freedom and subjection to parents may consist together, and are both founded on the same principle. a child is free by his father's title, by his father's understanding, which is to govern him till he hath it of his own. the freedom of a man at years of discretion, and the subjection of a child to his parents, whilst yet short of that age, are so consistent, and so distinguishable, that the most blinded contenders for monarchy, by right of fatherhood, cannot miss this difference; the most obstinate cannot but allow their consistency: for were their doctrine all true, were the right heir of adam now known, and by that title settled a monarch in his throne, invested with all the absolute unlimited power sir robert filmer talks of; if he should die as soon as his heir were born, must not the child, notwithstanding he were never so free, never so much sovereign, be in subjection to his mother and nurse, to tutors and governors, till age and education brought him reason and ability to govern himself and others? the necessities of his life, the health of his body, and the information of his mind, would require him to be directed by the will of others, and not his own; and yet will any one think, that this restraint and subjection were inconsistent with, or spoiled him of that liberty or sovereignty he had a right to, or gave away his empire to those who had the government of his nonage? this government over him only prepared him the better and sooner for it. if any body should ask me, when my son is of age to be free? i shall answer, just when his monarch is of age to govern. but at what time, says the judicious hooker, eccl. pol. l. i. sect. . a man may be said to have attained so far forth the use of reason, as sufficeth to make him capable of those laws whereby he is then bound to guide his actions: this is a great deal more easy for sense to discern, than for any one by skill and learning to determine. sect. . common-wealths themselves take notice of, and allow, that there is a time when men are to begin to act like free men, and therefore till that time require not oaths of fealty, or allegiance, or other public owning of, or submission to the government of their countries. sect. . the freedom then of man, and liberty of acting according to his own will, is grounded on his having reason, which is able to instruct him in that law he is to govern himself by, and make him know how far he is left to the freedom of his own will. to turn him loose to an unrestrained liberty, before he has reason to guide him, is not the allowing him the privilege of his nature to be free; but to thrust him out amongst brutes, and abandon him to a state as wretched, and as much beneath that of a man, as their's. this is that which puts the authority into the parents hands to govern the minority of their children. god hath made it their business to employ this care on their offspring, and hath placed in them suitable inclinations of tenderness and concern to temper this power, to apply it, as his wisdom designed it, to the children's good, as long as they should need to be under it. sect. . but what reason can hence advance this care of the parents due to their off-spring into an absolute arbitrary dominion of the father, whose power reaches no farther, than by such a discipline, as he finds most effectual, to give such strength and health to their bodies, such vigour and rectitude to their minds, as may best fit his children to be most useful to themselves and others; and, if it be necessary to his condition, to make them work, when they are able, for their own subsistence. but in this power the mother too has her share with the father. sect. . nay, this power so little belongs to the father by any peculiar right of nature, but only as he is guardian of his children, that when he quits his care of them, he loses his power over them, which goes along with their nourishment and education, to which it is inseparably annexed; and it belongs as much to the foster-father of an exposed child, as to the natural father of another. so little power does the bare act of begetting give a man over his issue; if all his care ends there, and this be all the title he hath to the name and authority of a father. and what will become of this paternal power in that part of the world, where one woman hath more than one husband at a time? or in those parts of america, where, when the husband and wife part, which happens frequently, the children are all left to the mother, follow her, and are wholly under her care and provision? if the father die whilst the children are young, do they not naturally every where owe the same obedience to their mother, during their minority, as to their father were he alive? and will any one say, that the mother hath a legislative power over her children? that she can make standing rules, which shall be of perpetual obligation, by which they ought to regulate all the concerns of their property, and bound their liberty all the course of their lives? or can she inforce the observation of them with capital punishments? for this is the proper power of the magistrate, of which the father hath not so much as the shadow. his command over his children is but temporary, and reaches not their life or property: it is but a help to the weakness and imperfection of their nonage, a discipline necessary to their education: and though a father may dispose of his own possessions as he pleases, when his children are out of danger of perishing for want, yet his power extends not to the lives or goods, which either their own industry, or another's bounty has made their's; nor to their liberty neither, when they are once arrived to the infranchisement of the years of discretion. the father's empire then ceases, and he can from thence forwards no more dispose of the liberty of his son, than that of any other man: and it must be far from an absolute or perpetual jurisdiction, from which a man may withdraw himself, having license from divine authority to leave father and mother, and cleave to his wife. sect. . but though there be a time when a child comes to be as free from subjection to the will and command of his father, as the father himself is free from subjection to the will of any body else, and they are each under no other restraint, but that which is common to them both, whether it be the law of nature, or municipal law of their country; yet this freedom exempts not a son from that honour which he ought, by the law of god and nature, to pay his parents. god having made the parents instruments in his great design of continuing the race of mankind, and the occasions of life to their children; as he hath laid on them an obligation to nourish, preserve, and bring up their offspring; so he has laid on the children a perpetual obligation of honouring their parents, which containing in it an inward esteem and reverence to be shewn by all outward expressions, ties up the child from any thing that may ever injure or affront, disturb or endanger, the happiness or life of those from whom he received his; and engages him in all actions of defence, relief, assistance and comfort of those, by whose means he entered into being, and has been made capable of any enjoyments of life: from this obligation no state, no freedom can absolve children. but this is very far from giving parents a power of command over their children, or an authority to make laws and dispose as they please of their lives or liberties. it is one thing to owe honour, respect, gratitude and assistance; another to require an absolute obedience and submission. the honour due to parents, a monarch in his throne owes his mother; and yet this lessens not his authority, nor subjects him to her government. sect. . the subjection of a minor places in the father a temporary government, which terminates with the minority of the child: and the honour due from a child, places in the parents a perpetual right to respect, reverence, support and compliance too, more or less, as the father's care, cost, and kindness in his education, has been more or less. this ends not with minority, but holds in all parts and conditions of a man's life. the want of distinguishing these two powers, viz. that which the father hath in the right of tuition, during minority, and the right of honour all his life, may perhaps have caused a great part of the mistakes about this matter: for to speak properly of them, the first of these is rather the privilege of children, and duty of parents, than any prerogative of paternal power. the nourishment and education of their children is a charge so incumbent on parents for their children's good, that nothing can absolve them from taking care of it: and though the power of commanding and chastising them go along with it, yet god hath woven into the principles of human nature such a tenderness for their off-spring, that there is little fear that parents should use their power with too much rigour; the excess is seldom on the severe side, the strong byass of nature drawing the other way. and therefore god almighty when he would express his gentle dealing with the israelites, he tells them, that though he chastened them, he chastened them as a man chastens his son, deut. viii. . i.e. with tenderness and affection, and kept them under no severer discipline than what was absolutely best for them, and had been less kindness to have slackened. this is that power to which children are commanded obedience, that the pains and care of their parents may not be increased, or ill rewarded. sect. . on the other side, honour and support, all that which gratitude requires to return for the benefits received by and from them, is the indispensable duty of the child, and the proper privilege of the parents. this is intended for the parents advantage, as the other is for the child's; though education, the parents duty, seems to have most power, because the ignorance and infirmities of childhood stand in need of restraint and correction; which is a visible exercise of rule, and a kind of dominion. and that duty which is comprehended in the word honour, requires less obedience, though the obligation be stronger on grown, than younger children: for who can think the command, children obey your parents, requires in a man, that has children of his own, the same submission to his father, as it does in his yet young children to him; and that by this precept he were bound to obey all his father's commands, if, out of a conceit of authority, he should have the indiscretion to treat him still as a boy? sect. . the first part then of paternal power, or rather duty, which is education, belongs so to the father, that it terminates at a certain season; when the business of education is over, it ceases of itself, and is also alienable before: for a man may put the tuition of his son in other hands; and he that has made his son an apprentice to another, has discharged him, during that time, of a great part of his obedience both to himself and to his mother. but all the duty of honour, the other part, remains never the less entire to them; nothing can cancel that: it is so inseparable from them both, that the father's authority cannot dispossess the mother of this right, nor can any man discharge his son from honouring her that bore him. but both these are very far from a power to make laws, and enforcing them with penalties, that may reach estate, liberty, limbs and life. the power of commanding ends with nonage; and though, after that, honour and respect, support and defence, and whatsoever gratitude can oblige a man to, for the highest benefits he is naturally capable of, be always due from a son to his parents; yet all this puts no scepter into the father's hand, no sovereign power of commanding. he has no dominion over his son's property, or actions; nor any right, that his will should prescribe to his son's in all things; however it may become his son in many things, not very inconvenient to him and his family, to pay a deference to it. sect. . a man may owe honour and respect to an ancient, or wise man; defence to his child or friend; relief and support to the distressed; and gratitude to a benefactor, to such a degree, that all he has, all he can do, cannot sufficiently pay it: but all these give no authority, no right to any one, of making laws over him from whom they are owing. and it is plain, all this is due not only to the bare title of father; not only because, as has been said, it is owing to the mother too; but because these obligations to parents, and the degrees of what is required of children, may be varied by the different care and kindness, trouble and expence, which is often employed upon one child more than another. sect. . this shews the reason how it comes to pass, that parents in societies, where they themselves are subjects, retain a power over their children, and have as much right to their subjection, as those who are in the state of nature. which could not possibly be, if all political power were only paternal, and that in truth they were one and the same thing: for then, all paternal power being in the prince, the subject could naturally have none of it. but these two powers, political and paternal, are so perfectly distinct and separate; are built upon so different foundations, and given to so different ends, that every subject that is a father, has as much a paternal power over his children, as the prince has over his: and every prince, that has parents, owes them as much filial duty and obedience, as the meanest of his subjects do to their's; and can therefore contain not any part or degree of that kind of dominion, which a prince or magistrate has over his subject. sect. . though the obligation on the parents to bring up their children, and the obligation on children to honour their parents, contain all the power on the one hand, and submission on the other, which are proper to this relation, yet there is another power ordinarily in the father, whereby he has a tie on the obedience of his children; which tho' it be common to him with other men, yet the occasions of shewing it, almost constantly happening to fathers in their private families, and the instances of it elsewhere being rare, and less taken notice of, it passes in the world for a part of paternal jurisdiction. and this is the power men generally have to bestow their estates on those who please them best; the possession of the father being the expectation and inheritance of the children, ordinarily in certain proportions, according to the law and custom of each country; yet it is commonly in the father's power to bestow it with a more sparing or liberal hand, according as the behaviour of this or that child hath comported with his will and humour. sect. . this is no small tie on the obedience of children: and there being always annexed to the enjoyment of land, a submission to the government of the country, of which that land is a part; it has been commonly supposed, that a father could oblige his posterity to that government, of which he himself was a subject, and that his compact held them; whereas, it being only a necessary condition annexed to the land, and the inheritance of an estate which is under that government, reaches only those who will take it on that condition, and so is no natural tie or engagement, but a voluntary submission: for every man's children being by nature as free as himself, or any of his ancestors ever were, may, whilst they are in that freedom, choose what society they will join themselves to, what commonwealth they will put themselves under. but if they will enjoy the inheritance of their ancestors, they must take it on the same terms their ancestors had it, and submit to all the conditions annexed to such a possession. by this power indeed fathers oblige their children to obedience to themselves, even when they are past minority, and most commonly too subject them to this or that political power: but neither of these by any peculiar right of fatherhood, but by the reward they have in their hands to inforce and recompence such a compliance; and is no more power than what a french man has over an english man, who by the hopes of an estate he will leave him, will certainly have a strong tie on his obedience: and if, when it is left him, he will enjoy it, he must certainly take it upon the conditions annexed to the possession of land in that country where it lies, whether it be france or england. sect. . to conclude then, tho' the father's power of commanding extends no farther than the minority of his children, and to a degree only fit for the discipline and government of that age; and tho' that honour and respect, and all that which the latins called piety, which they indispensably owe to their parents all their life-time, and in all estates, with all that support and defence is due to them, gives the father no power of governing, i.e. making laws and enacting penalties on his children; though by all this he has no dominion over the property or actions of his son: yet it is obvious to conceive how easy it was, in the first ages of the world, and in places still, where the thinness of people gives families leave to separate into unpossessed quarters, and they have room to remove or plant themselves in yet vacant habitations, for the father of the family to become the prince of it;* he had been a ruler from the beginning of the infancy of his children: and since without some government it would be hard for them to live together, it was likeliest it should, by the express or tacit consent of the children when they were grown up, be in the father, where it seemed without any change barely to continue; when indeed nothing more was required to it, than the permitting the father to exercise alone, in his family, that executive power of the law of nature, which every free man naturally hath, and by that permission resigning up to him a monarchical power, whilst they remained in it. but that this was not by any paternal right, but only by the consent of his children, is evident from hence, that no body doubts, but if a stranger, whom chance or business had brought to his family, had there killed any of his children, or committed any other fact, he might condemn and put him to death, or other-wise have punished him, as well as any of his children; which it was impossible he should do by virtue of any paternal authority over one who was not his child, but by virtue of that executive power of the law of nature, which, as a man, he had a right to: and he alone could punish him in his family, where the respect of his children had laid by the exercise of such a power, to give way to the dignity and authority they were willing should remain in him, above the rest of his family. (*it is no improbable opinion therefore, which the archphilosopher was of, that the chief person in every houshold was always, as it were, a king: so when numbers of housholds joined themselves in civil societies together, kings were the first kind of governors amongst them, which is also, as it seemeth, the reason why the name of fathers continued still in them, who, of fathers, were made rulers; as also the ancient custom of governors to do as melchizedec, and being kings, to exercise the office of priests, which fathers did at the first, grew perhaps by the same occasion. howbeit, this is not the only kind of regiment that has been received in the world. the inconveniences of one kind have caused sundry others to be devised; so that in a word, all public regiment, of what kind soever, seemeth evidently to have risen from the deliberate advice, consultation and composition between men, judging it convenient and behoveful; there being no impossibility in nature considered by itself, but that man might have lived without any public regiment, hooker's eccl. pol. lib. i. sect. .) sect. . thus it was easy, and almost natural for children, by a tacit, and scarce avoidable consent, to make way for the father's authority and government. they had been accustomed in their childhood to follow his direction, and to refer their little differences to him, and when they were men, who fitter to rule them? their little properties, and less covetousness, seldom afforded greater controversies; and when any should arise, where could they have a fitter umpire than he, by whose care they had every one been sustained and brought up, and who had a tenderness for them all? it is no wonder that they made no distinction betwixt minority and full age; nor looked after one and twenty, or any other age that might make them the free disposers of themselves and fortunes, when they could have no desire to be out of their pupilage: the government they had been under, during it, continued still to be more their protection than restraint; and they could no where find a greater security to their peace, liberties, and fortunes, than in the rule of a father. sect. . thus the natural fathers of families, by an insensible change, became the politic monarchs of them too: and as they chanced to live long, and leave able and worthy heirs, for several successions, or otherwise; so they laid the foundations of hereditary, or elective kingdoms, under several constitutions and manners, according as chance, contrivance, or occasions happened to mould them. but if princes have their titles in their fathers right, and it be a sufficient proof of the natural right of fathers to political authority, because they commonly were those in whose hands we find, de facto, the exercise of government: i say, if this argument be good, it will as strongly prove, that all princes, nay princes only, ought to be priests, since it is as certain, that in the beginning, the father of the family was priest, as that he was ruler in his own houshold. chapter. vii. of political or civil society. sect. . god having made man such a creature, that in his own judgment, it was not good for him to be alone, put him under strong obligations of necessity, convenience, and inclination to drive him into society, as well as fitted him with understanding and language to continue and enjoy it. the first society was between man and wife, which gave beginning to that between parents and children; to which, in time, that between master and servant came to be added: and though all these might, and commonly did meet together, and make up but one family, wherein the master or mistress of it had some sort of rule proper to a family; each of these, or all together, came short of political society, as we shall see, if we consider the different ends, ties, and bounds of each of these. sect. . conjugal society is made by a voluntary compact between man and woman; and tho' it consist chiefly in such a communion and right in one another's bodies as is necessary to its chief end, procreation; yet it draws with it mutual support and assistance, and a communion of interests too, as necessary not only to unite their care and affection, but also necessary to their common off-spring, who have a right to be nourished, and maintained by them, till they are able to provide for themselves. sect. . for the end of conjunction, between male and female, being not barely procreation, but the continuation of the species; thisconjunction betwixt male and female ought to last, even after procreation, so long as is necessary to the nourishment and support of the young ones, who are to be sustained by those that got them, till they are able to shift and provide for themselves. this rule, which the infinite wise maker hath set to the works of his hands, we find the inferior creatures steadily obey. in those viviparous animals which feed on grass, the conjunction between male and female lasts no longer than the very act of copulation; because the teat of the dam being sufficient to nourish the young, till it be able to feed on grass, the male only begets, but concerns not himself for the female or young, to whose sustenance he can contribute nothing. but in beasts of prey the conjunction lasts longer: because the dam not being able well to subsist herself, and nourish her numerous off-spring by her own prey alone, a more laborious, as well as more dangerous way of living, than by feeding on grass, the assistance of the male is necessary to the maintenance of their common family, which cannot subsist till they are able to prey for themselves, but by the joint care of male and female. the same is to be observed in all birds, (except some domestic ones, where plenty of food excuses the cock from feeding, and taking care of the young brood) whose young needing food in the nest, the cock and hen continue mates, till the young are able to use their wing, and provide for themselves. sect. . and herein i think lies the chief, if not the only reason, why the male and female in mankind are tied to a longer conjunction than other creatures, viz. because the female is capable of conceiving, and de facto is commonly with child again, and brings forth too a new birth, long before the former is out of a dependency for support on his parents help, and able to shift for himself, and has all the assistance is due to him from his parents: whereby the father, who is bound to take care for those he hath begot, is under an obligation to continue in conjugal society with the same woman longer than other creatures, whose young being able to subsist of themselves, before the time of procreation returns again, the conjugal bond dissolves of itself, and they are at liberty, till hymen at his usual anniversary season summons them again to chuse new mates. wherein one cannot but admire the wisdom of the great creator, who having given to man foresight, and an ability to lay up for the future, as well as to supply the present necessity, hath made it necessary, that society of man and wife should be more lasting, than of male and female amongst other creatures; that so their industry might be encouraged, and their interest better united, to make provision and lay up goods for their common issue, which uncertain mixture, or easy and frequent solutions of conjugal society would mightily disturb. sect. . but tho' these are ties upon mankind, which make the conjugal bonds more firm and lasting in man, than the other species of animals; yet it would give one reason to enquire, why this compact, where procreation and education are secured, and inheritance taken care for, may not be made determinable, either by consent, or at a certain time, or upon certain conditions, as well as any other voluntary compacts, there being no necessity in the nature of the thing, nor to the ends of it, that it should always be for life; i mean, to such as are under no restraint of any positive law, which ordains all such contracts to be perpetual. sect. . but the husband and wife, though they have but one common concern, yet having different understandings, will unavoidably sometimes have different wills too; it therefore being necessary that the last determination, i. e. the rule, should be placed somewhere; it naturally falls to the man's share, as the abler and the stronger. but this reaching but to the things of their common interest and property, leaves the wife in the full and free possession of what by contract is her peculiar right, and gives the husband no more power over her life than she has over his; the power of the husband being so far from that of an absolute monarch, that the wife has in many cases a liberty to separate from him, where natural right, or their contract allows it; whether that contract be made by themselves in the state of nature, or by the customs or laws of the country they live in; and the children upon such separation fall to the father or mother's lot, as such contract does determine. sect. . for all the ends of marriage being to be obtained under politic government, as well as in the state of nature, the civil magistrate doth not abridge the right or power of either naturally necessary to those ends, viz. procreation and mutual support and assistance whilst they are together; but only decides any controversy that may arise between man and wife about them. if it were otherwise, and that absolute sovereignty and power of life and death naturally belonged to the husband, and were necessary to the society between man and wife, there could be no matrimony in any of those countries where the husband is allowed no such absolute authority. but the ends of matrimony requiring no such power in the husband, the condition of conjugal society put it not in him, it being not at all necessary to that state. conjugal society could subsist and attain its ends without it; nay, community of goods, and the power over them, mutual assistance and maintenance, and other things belonging to conjugal society, might be varied and regulated by that contract which unites man and wife in that society, as far as may consist with procreation and the bringing up of children till they could shift for themselves; nothing being necessary to any society, that is not necessary to the ends for which it is made. sect. . the society betwixt parents and children, and the distinct rights and powers belonging respectively to them, i have treated of so largely, in the foregoing chapter, that i shall not here need to say any thing of it. and i think it is plain, that it is far different from a politic society. sect. . master and servant are names as old as history, but given to those of far different condition; for a freeman makes himself a servant to another, by selling him, for a certain time, the service he undertakes to do, in exchange for wages he is to receive: and though this commonly puts him into the family of his master, and under the ordinary discipline thereof; yet it gives the master but a temporary power over him, and no greater than what is contained in the contract between them. but there is another sort of servants, which by a peculiar name we call slaves, who being captives taken in a just war, are by the right of nature subjected to the absolute dominion and arbitrary power of their masters. these men having, as i say, forfeited their lives, and with it their liberties, and lost their estates; and being in the state of slavery, not capable of any property, cannot in that state be considered as any part of civil society; the chief end whereof is the preservation of property. sect. . let us therefore consider a master of a family with all these subordinate relations of wife, children, servants, and slaves, united under the domestic rule of a family; which, what resemblance soever it may have in its order, offices, and number too, with a little commonwealth, yet is very far from it, both in its constitution, power and end: or if it must be thought a monarchy, and the paterfamilias the absolute monarch in it, absolute monarchy will have but a very shattered and short power, when it is plain, by what has been said before, that the master of the family has a very distinct and differently limited power, both as to time and extent, over those several persons that are in it; for excepting the slave (and the family is as much a family, and his power as paterfamilias as great, whether there be any slaves in his family or no) he has no legislative power of life and death over any of them, and none too but what a mistress of a family may have as well as he. and he certainly can have no absolute power over the whole family, who has but a very limited one over every individual in it. but how a family, or any other society of men, differ from that which is properly political society, we shall best see, by considering wherein political society itself consists. sect. . man being born, as has been proved, with a title to perfect freedom, and an uncontrouled enjoyment of all the rights and privileges of the law of nature, equally with any other man, or number of men in the world, hath by nature a power, not only to preserve his property, that is, his life, liberty and estate, against the injuries and attempts of other men; but to judge of, and punish the breaches of that law in others, as he is persuaded the offence deserves, even with death itself, in crimes where the heinousness of the fact, in his opinion, requires it. but because no political society can be, nor subsist, without having in itself the power to preserve the property, and in order thereunto, punish the offences of all those of that society; there, and there only is political society, where every one of the members hath quitted this natural power, resigned it up into the hands of the community in all cases that exclude him not from appealing for protection to the law established by it. and thus all private judgment of every particular member being excluded, the community comes to be umpire, by settled standing rules, indifferent, and the same to all parties; and by men having authority from the community, for the execution of those rules, decides all the differences that may happen between any members of that society concerning any matter of right; and punishes those offences which any member hath committed against the society, with such penalties as the law has established: whereby it is easy to discern, who are, and who are not, in political society together. those who are united into one body, and have a common established law and judicature to appeal to, with authority to decide controversies between them, and punish offenders, are in civil society one with another: but those who have no such common appeal, i mean on earth, are still in the state of nature, each being, where there is no other, judge for himself, and executioner; which is, as i have before shewed it, the perfect state of nature. sect. . and thus the commonwealth comes by a power to set down what punishment shall belong to the several transgressions which they think worthy of it, committed amongst the members of that society, (which is the power of making laws) as well as it has the power to punish any injury done unto any of its members, by any one that is not of it, (which is the power of war and peace;) and all this for the preservation of the property of all the members of that society, as far as is possible. but though every man who has entered into civil society, and is become a member of any commonwealth, has thereby quitted his power to punish offences, against the law of nature, in prosecution of his own private judgment, yet with the judgment of offences, which he has given up to the legislative in all cases, where he can appeal to the magistrate, he has given a right to the commonwealth to employ his force, for the execution of the judgments of the commonwealth, whenever he shall be called to it; which indeed are his own judgments, they being made by himself, or his representative. and herein we have the original of the legislative and executive power of civil society, which is to judge by standing laws, how far offences are to be punished, when committed within the commonwealth; and also to determine, by occasional judgments founded on the present circumstances of the fact, how far injuries from without are to be vindicated; and in both these to employ all the force of all the members, when there shall be need. sect. . where-ever therefore any number of men are so united into one society, as to quit every one his executive power of the law of nature, and to resign it to the public, there and there only is a political, or civil society. and this is done, where-ever any number of men, in the state of nature, enter into society to make one people, one body politic, under one supreme government; or else when any one joins himself to, and incorporates with any government already made: for hereby he authorizes the society, or which is all one, the legislative thereof, to make laws for him, as the public good of the society shall require; to the execution whereof, his own assistance (as to his own decrees) is due. and this puts men out of a state of nature into that of a commonwealth, by setting up a judge on earth, with authority to determine all the controversies, and redress the injuries that may happen to any member of the commonwealth; which judge is the legislative, or magistrates appointed by it. and where-ever there are any number of men, however associated, that have no such decisive power to appeal to, there they are still in the state of nature. sect. . hence it is evident, that absolute monarchy, which by some men is counted the only government in the world, is indeed inconsistent with civil society, and so can be no form of civil-government at all: for the end of civil society, being to avoid, and remedy those inconveniencies of the state of nature, which necessarily follow from every man's being judge in his own case, by setting up a known authority, to which every one of that society may appeal upon any injury received, or controversy that may arise, and which every one of the society ought to obey;* where-ever any persons are, who have not such an authority to appeal to, for the decision of any difference between them, there those persons are still in the state of nature; and so is every absolute prince, in respect of those who are under his dominion. (*the public power of all society is above every soul contained in the same society; and the principal use of that power is, to give laws unto all that are under it, which laws in such cases we must obey, unless there be reason shewed which may necessarily inforce, that the law of reason, or of god, doth enjoin the contrary, hook. eccl. pol. l. i. sect. .) sect. . for he being supposed to have all, both legislative and executive power in himself alone, there is no judge to be found, no appeal lies open to any one, who may fairly, and indifferently, and with authority decide, and from whose decision relief and redress may be expected of any injury or inconviency, that may be suffered from the prince, or by his order: so that such a man, however intitled, czar, or grand seignior, or how you please, is as much in the state of nature, with all under his dominion, as he is with the rest of mankind: for where-ever any two men are, who have no standing rule, and common judge to appeal to on earth, for the determination of controversies of right betwixt them, there they are still in the state of* nature, and under all the inconveniencies of it, with only this woful difference to the subject, or rather slave of an absolute prince: that whereas, in the ordinary state of nature, he has a liberty to judge of his right, and according to the best of his power, to maintain it; now, whenever his property is invaded by the will and order of his monarch, he has not only no appeal, as those in society ought to have, but as if he were degraded from the common state of rational creatures, is denied a liberty to judge of, or to defend his right; and so is exposed to all the misery and inconveniencies, that a man can fear from one, who being in the unrestrained state of nature, is yet corrupted with flattery, and armed with power. (*to take away all such mutual grievances, injuries and wrongs, i.e. such as attend men in the state of nature, there was no way but only by growing into composition and agreement amongst themselves, by ordaining some kind of govemment public, and by yielding themselves subject thereunto, that unto whom they granted authority to rule and govem, by them the peace, tranquillity and happy estate of the rest might be procured. men always knew that where force and injury was offered, they might be defenders of themselves; they knew that however men may seek their own commodity, yet if this were done with injury unto others, it was not to be suffered, but by all men, and all good means to be withstood. finally, they knew that no man might in reason take upon him to determine his own right, and according to his own determination proceed in maintenance thereof, in as much as every man is towards himself, and them whom he greatly affects, partial; and therefore that strifes and troubles would be endless, except they gave their common consent, all to be ordered by some, whom they should agree upon, without which consent there would be no reason that one man should take upon him to be lord or judge over another, hooker's eccl. pol. l. i. sect. .) sect. . for he that thinks absolute power purifies men's blood, and corrects the baseness of human nature, need read but the history of this, or any other age, to be convinced of the contrary. he that would have been insolent and injurious in the woods of america, would not probably be much better in a throne; where perhaps learning and religion shall be found out to justify all that he shall do to his subjects, and the sword presently silence all those that dare question it: for what the protection of absolute monarchy is, what kind of fathers of their countries it makes princes to be and to what a degree of happiness and security it carries civil society, where this sort of government is grown to perfection, he that will look into the late relation of ceylon, may easily see. sect. . in absolute monarchies indeed, as well as other governments of the world, the subjects have an appeal to the law, and judges to decide any controversies, and restrain any violence that may happen betwixt the subjects themselves, one amongst another. this every one thinks necessary, and believes he deserves to be thought a declared enemy to society and mankind, who should go about to take it away. but whether this be from a true love of mankind and society, and such a charity as we owe all one to another, there is reason to doubt: for this is no more than what every man, who loves his own power, profit, or greatness, may and naturally must do, keep those animals from hurting, or destroying one another, who labour and drudge only for his pleasure and advantage; and so are taken care of, not out of any love the master has for them, but love of himself, and the profit they bring him: for if it be asked, what security, what fence is there, in such a state, against the violence and oppression of this absolute ruler? the very question can scarce be borne. they are ready to tell you, that it deserves death only to ask after safety. betwixt subject and subject, they will grant, there must be measures, laws and judges, for their mutual peace and security: but as for the ruler, he ought to be absolute, and is above all such circumstances; because he has power to do more hurt and wrong, it is right when he does it. to ask how you may be guarded from harm, or injury, on that side where the strongest hand is to do it, is presently the voice of faction and rebellion: as if when men quitting the state of nature entered into society, they agreed that all of them but one, should be under the restraint of laws, but that he should still retain all the liberty of the state of nature, increased with power, and made licentious by impunity. this is to think, that men are so foolish, that they take care to avoid what mischiefs may be done them by pole-cats, or foxes; but are content, nay, think it safety, to be devoured by lions. sect. . but whatever flatterers may talk to amuse people's understandings, it hinders not men from feeling; and when they perceive, that any man, in what station soever, is out of the bounds of the civil society which they are of, and that they have no appeal on earth against any harm, they may receive from him, they are apt to think themselves in the state of nature, in respect of him whom they find to be so; and to take care, as soon as they can, to have that safety and security in civil society, for which it was first instituted, and for which only they entered into it. and therefore, though perhaps at first, (as shall be shewed more at large hereafter in the following part of this discourse) some one good and excellent man having got a pre-eminency amongst the rest, had this deference paid to his goodness and virtue, as to a kind of natural authority, that the chief rule, with arbitration of their differences, by a tacit consent devolved into his hands, without any other caution, but the assurance they had of his uprightness and wisdom; yet when time, giving authority, and (as some men would persuade us) sacredness of customs, which the negligent, and unforeseeing innocence of the first ages began, had brought in successors of another stamp, the people finding their properties not secure under the government, as then it was, (whereas government has no other end but the preservation of* property) could never be safe nor at rest, nor think themselves in civil society, till the legislature was placed in collective bodies of men, call them senate, parliament, or what you please. by which means every single person became subject, equally with other the meanest men, to those laws, which he himself, as part of the legislative, had established; nor could any one, by his own authority; avoid the force of the law, when once made; nor by any pretence of superiority plead exemption, thereby to license his own, or the miscarriages of any of his dependents.** no man in civil society can be exempted from the laws of it: for if any man may do what he thinks fit, and there be no appeal on earth, for redress or security against any harm he shall do; i ask, whether he be not perfectly still in the state of nature, and so can be no part or member of that civil society; unless any one will say, the state of nature and civil society are one and the same thing, which i have never yet found any one so great a patron of anarchy as to affirm. (*at the first, when some certain kind of regiment was once appointed, it may be that nothing was then farther thought upon for the manner of goveming, but all permitted unto their wisdom and discretion, which were to rule, till by experience they found this for all parts very inconvenient, so as the thing which they had devised for a remedy, did indeed but increase the sore, which it should have cured. they saw, that to live by one man's will, became the cause of all men's misery. this constrained them to come unto laws, wherein all men might see their duty beforehand, and know the penalties of transgressing them. hooker's eccl. pol. l. i. sect. .) (**civil law being the act of the whole body politic, doth therefore over-rule each several part of the same body. hooker, ibid.) chapter. viii. of the beginning of political societies. sect. . men being, as has been said, by nature, all free, equal, and independent, no one can be put out of this estate, and subjected to the political power of another, without his own consent. the only way whereby any one divests himself of his natural liberty, and puts on the bonds of civil society, is by agreeing with other men to join and unite into a community for their comfortable, safe, and peaceable living one amongst another, in a secure enjoyment of their properties, and a greater security against any, that are not of it. this any number of men may do, because it injures not the freedom of the rest; they are left as they were in the liberty of the state of nature. when any number of men have so consented to make one community or government, they are thereby presently incorporated, and make one body politic, wherein the majority have a right to act and conclude the rest. sect. . for when any number of men have, by the consent of every individual, made a community, they have thereby made that community one body, with a power to act as one body, which is only by the will and determination of the majority: for that which acts any community, being only the consent of the individuals of it, and it being necessary to that which is one body to move one way; it is necessary the body should move that way whither the greater force carries it, which is the consent of the majority: or else it is impossible it should act or continue one body, one community, which the consent of every individual that united into it, agreed that it should; and so every one is bound by that consent to be concluded by the majority. and therefore we see, that in assemblies, impowered to act by positive laws, where no number is set by that positive law which impowers them, the act of the majority passes for the act of the whole, and of course determines, as having, by the law of nature and reason, the power of the whole. sect. . and thus every man, by consenting with others to make one body politic under one government, puts himself under an obligation, to every one of that society, to submit to the determination of the majority, and to be concluded by it; or else this original compact, whereby he with others incorporates into one society, would signify nothing, and be no compact, if he be left free, and under no other ties than he was in before in the state of nature. for what appearance would there be of any compact? what new engagement if he were no farther tied by any decrees of the society, than he himself thought fit, and did actually consent to? this would be still as great a liberty, as he himself had before his compact, or any one else in the state of nature hath, who may submit himself, and consent to any acts of it if he thinks fit. sect. . for if the consent of the majority shall not, in reason, be received as the act of the whole, and conclude every individual; nothing but the consent of every individual can make any thing to be the act of the whole: but such a consent is next to impossible ever to be had, if we consider the infirmities of health, and avocations of business, which in a number, though much less than that of a commonwealth, will necessarily keep many away from the public assembly. to which if we add the variety of opinions, and contrariety of interests, which unavoidably happen in all collections of men, the coming into society upon such terms would be only like cato's coming into the theatre, only to go out again. such a constitution as this would make the mighty leviathan of a shorter duration, than the feeblest creatures, and not let it outlast the day it was born in: which cannot be supposed, till we can think, that rational creatures should desire and constitute societies only to be dissolved: for where the majority cannot conclude the rest, there they cannot act as one body, and consequently will be immediately dissolved again. sect. . whosoever therefore out of a state of nature unite into a community, must be understood to give up all the power, necessary to the ends for which they unite into society, to the majority of the community, unless they expresly agreed in any number greater than the majority. and this is done by barely agreeing to unite into one political society, which is all the compact that is, or needs be, between the individuals, that enter into, or make up a commonwealth. and thus that, which begins and actually constitutes any political society, is nothing but the consent of any number of freemen capable of a majority to unite and incorporate into such a society. and this is that, and that only, which did, or could give beginning to any lawful government in the world. sect. . to this i find two objections made. first, that there are no instances to be found in story, of a company of men independent, and equal one amongst another, that met together, and in this way began and set up a government. secondly, it is impossible of right, that men should do so, because all men being born under government, they are to submit to that, and are not at liberty to begin a new one. sect. . to the first there is this to answer, that it is not at all to be wondered, that history gives us but a very little account of men, that lived together in the state of nature. the inconveniences of that condition, and the love and want of society, no sooner brought any number of them together, but they presently united and incorporated, if they designed to continue together. and if we may not suppose men ever to have been in the state of nature, because we hear not much of them in such a state, we may as well suppose the armies of salmanasser or xerxes were never children, because we hear little of them, till they were men, and imbodied in armies. government is every where antecedent to records, and letters seldom come in amongst a people till a long continuation of civil society has, by other more necessary arts, provided for their safety, ease, and plenty: and then they begin to look after the history of their founders, and search into their original, when they have outlived the memory of it: for it is with commonwealths as with particular persons, they are commonly ignorant of their own births and infancies: and if they know any thing of their original, they are beholden for it, to the accidental records that others have kept of it. and those that we have, of the beginning of any polities in the world, excepting that of the jews, where god himself immediately interposed, and which favours not at all paternal dominion, are all either plain instances of such a beginning as i have mentioned, or at least have manifest footsteps of it. sect. . he must shew a strange inclination to deny evident matter of fact, when it agrees not with his hypothesis, who will not allow, that the beginning of rome and venice were by the uniting together of several men free and independent one of another, amongst whom there was no natural superiority or subjection. and if josephus acosta's word may be taken, he tells us, that in many parts of america there was no government at all. there are great and apparent conjectures, says he, that these men, speaking of those of peru, for a long time had neither kings nor commonwealths, but lived in troops, as they do this day in florida, the cheriquanas, those of brazil, and many other nations, which have no certain kings, but as occasion is offered, in peace or war, they choose their captains as they please, . i. c. . if it be said, that every man there was born subject to his father, or the head of his family; that the subjection due from a child to a father took not away his freedom of uniting into what political society he thought fit, has been already proved. but be that as it will, these men, it is evident, were actually free; and whatever superiority some politicians now would place in any of them, they themselves claimed it not, but by consent were all equal, till by the same consent they set rulers over themselves. so that their politic societies all began from a voluntary union, and the mutual agreement of men freely acting in the choice of their governors, and forms of government. sect. . and i hope those who went away from sparta with palantus, mentioned by justin, . iii. c. . will be allowed to have been freemen independent one of another, and to have set up a government over themselves, by their own consent. thus i have given several examples, out of history, of people free and in the state of nature, that being met together incorporated and began a commonwealth. and if the want of such instances be an argument to prove that government were not, nor could not be so begun, i suppose the contenders for paternal empire were better let it alone, than urge it against natural liberty: for if they can give so many instances, out of history, of governments begun upon paternal right, i think (though at best an argument from what has been, to what should of right be, has no great force) one might, without any great danger, yield them the cause. but if i might advise them in the case, they would do well not to search too much into the original of governments, as they have begun de facto, lest they should find, at the foundation of most of them, something very little favourable to the design they promote, and such a power as they contend for. sect. . but to conclude, reason being plain on our side, that men are naturally free, and the examples of history shewing, that the governments of the world, that were begun in peace, had their beginning laid on that foundation, and were made by the consent of the people; there can be little room for doubt, either where the right is, or what has been the opinion, or practice of mankind, about the first erecting of governments. sect. . i will not deny, that if we look back as far as history will direct us, towards the original of commonwealths, we shall generally find them under the government and administration of one man. and i am also apt to believe, that where a family was numerous enough to subsist by itself, and continued entire together, without mixing with others, as it often happens, where there is much land, and few people, the government commonly began in the father: for the father having, by the law of nature, the same power with every man else to punish, as he thought fit, any offences against that law, might thereby punish his transgressing children, even when they were men, and out of their pupilage; and they were very likely to submit to his punishment, and all join with him against the offender, in their turns, giving him thereby power to execute his sentence against any transgression, and so in effect make him the law-maker, and governor over all that remained in conjunction with his family. he was fittest to be trusted; paternal affection secured their property and interest under his care; and the custom of obeying him, in their childhood, made it easier to submit to him, rather than to any other. if therefore they must have one to rule them, as government is hardly to be avoided amongst men that live together; who so likely to be the man as he that was their common father; unless negligence, cruelty, or any other defect of mind or body made him unfit for it? but when either the father died, and left his next heir, for want of age, wisdom, courage, or any other qualities, less fit for rule; or where several families met, and consented to continue together; there, it is not to be doubted, but they used their natural freedom, to set up him, whom they judged the ablest, and most likely, to rule well over them. conformable hereunto we find the people of america, who (living out of the reach of the conquering swords, and spreading domination of the two great empires of peru and mexico) enjoyed their own natural freedom, though, caeteris paribus, they commonly prefer the heir of their deceased king; yet if they find him any way weak, or uncapable, they pass him by, and set up the stoutest and bravest man for their ruler. sect. . thus, though looking back as far as records give us any account of peopling the world, and the history of nations, we commonly find the government to be in one hand; yet it destroys not that which i affirm, viz. that the beginning of politic society depends upon the consent of the individuals, to join into, and make one society; who, when they are thus incorporated, might set up what form of government they thought fit. but this having given occasion to men to mistake, and think, that by nature government was monarchical, and belonged to the father, it may not be amiss here to consider, why people in the beginning generally pitched upon this form, which though perhaps the father's pre-eminency might, in the first institution of some commonwealths, give a rise to, and place in the beginning, the power in one hand; yet it is plain that the reason, that continued the form of government in a single person, was not any regard, or respect to paternal authority; since all petty monarchies, that is, almost all monarchies, near their original, have been commonly, at least upon occasion, elective. sect. . first then, in the beginning of things, the father's government of the childhood of those sprung from him, having accustomed them to the rule of one man, and taught them that where it was exercised with care and skill, with affection and love to those under it, it was sufficient to procure and preserve to men all the political happiness they sought for in society. it was no wonder that they should pitch upon, and naturally run into that form of government, which from their infancy they had been all accustomed to; and which, by experience, they had found both easy and safe. to which, if we add, that monarchy being simple, and most obvious to men, whom neither experience had instructed in forms of government, nor the ambition or insolence of empire had taught to beware of the encroachments of prerogative, or the inconveniences of absolute power, which monarchy in succession was apt to lay claim to, and bring upon them, it was not at all strange, that they should not much trouble themselves to think of methods of restraining any exorbitances of those to whom they had given the authority over them, and of balancing the power of government, by placing several parts of it in different hands. they had neither felt the oppression of tyrannical dominion, nor did the fashion of the age, nor their possessions, or way of living, (which afforded little matter for covetousness or ambition) give them any reason to apprehend or provide against it; and therefore it is no wonder they put themselves into such a frame of government, as was not only, as i said, most obvious and simple, but also best suited to their present state and condition; which stood more in need of defence against foreign invasions and injuries, than of multiplicity of laws. the equality of a simple poor way of living, confining their desires within the narrow bounds of each man's small property, made few controversies, and so no need of many laws to decide them, or variety of officers to superintend the process, or look after the execution of justice, where there were but few trespasses, and few offenders. since then those, who like one another so well as to join into society, cannot but be supposed to have some acquaintance and friendship together, and some trust one in another; they could not but have greater apprehensions of others, than of one another: and therefore their first care and thought cannot but be supposed to be, how to secure themselves against foreign force. it was natural for them to put themselves under a frame of government which might best serve to that end, and chuse the wisest and bravest man to conduct them in their wars, and lead them out against their enemies, and in this chiefly be their ruler. sect. . thus we see, that the kings of the indians in america, which is still a pattern of the first ages in asia and europe, whilst the inhabitants were too few for the country, and want of people and money gave men no temptation to enlarge their possessions of land, or contest for wider extent of ground, are little more than generals of their armies; and though they command absolutely in war, yet at home and in time of peace they exercise very little dominion, and have but a very moderate sovereignty, the resolutions of peace and war being ordinarily either in the people, or in a council. tho' the war itself, which admits not of plurality of governors, naturally devolves the command into the king's sole authority. sect. . and thus in israel itself, the chief business of their judges, and first kings, seems to have been to be captains in war, and leaders of their armies; which (besides what is signified by going out and in before the people, which was, to march forth to war, and home again in the heads of their forces) appears plainly in the story of jephtha. the ammonites making war upon israel, the gileadites in fear send to jephtha, a bastard of their family whom they had cast off, and article with him, if he will assist them against the ammonites, to make him their ruler; which they do in these words, and the people made him head and captain over them, judg. xi, . which was, as it seems, all one as to be judge. and he judged israel, judg. xii. . that is, was their captain-general six years. so when jotham upbraids the shechemites with the obligation they had to gideon, who had been their judge and ruler, he tells them, he fought for you, and adventured his life far, and delivered you out of the hands of midian, judg. ix. . nothing mentioned of him but what he did as a general: and indeed that is all is found in his history, or in any of the rest of the judges. and abimelech particularly is called king, though at most he was but their general. and when, being weary of the ill conduct of samuel's sons, the children of israel desired a king, like all the nations to judge them, and to go out before them, and to fight their battles, i. sam viii. . god granting their desire, says to samuel, i will send thee a man, and thou shalt anoint him to be captain over my people israel, that he may save my people out of the hands of the philistines, ix. . as if the only business of a king had been to lead out their armies, and fight in their defence; and accordingly at his inauguration pouring a vial of oil upon him, declares to saul, that the lord had anointed him to be captain over his inheritance, x. . and therefore those, who after saul's being solemnly chosen and saluted king by the tribes at mispah, were unwilling to have him their king, made no other objection but this, how shall this man save us? v. . as if they should have said, this man is unfit to be our king, not having skill and conduct enough in war, to be able to defend us. and when god resolved to transfer the government to david, it is in these words, but now thy kingdom shall not continue: the lord hath sought him a man after his own heart, and the lord hath commanded him to be captain over his people, xiii. . as if the whole kingly authority were nothing else but to be their general: and therefore the tribes who had stuck to saul's family, and opposed david's reign, when they came to hebron with terms of submission to him, they tell him, amongst other arguments they had to submit to him as to their king, that he was in effect their king in saul's time, and therefore they had no reason but to receive him as their king now. also (say they) in time past, when saul was king over us, thou wast he that reddest out and broughtest in israel, and the lord said unto thee, thou shalt feed my people israel, and thou shalt be a captain over israel. sect. . thus, whether a family by degrees grew up into a commonwealth, and the fatherly authority being continued on to the elder son, every one in his turn growing up under it, tacitly submitted to it, and the easiness and equality of it not offending any one, every one acquiesced, till time seemed to have confirmed it, and settled a right of succession by prescription: or whether several families, or the descendants of several families, whom chance, neighbourhood, or business brought together, uniting into society, the need of a general, whose conduct might defend them against their enemies in war, and the great confidence the innocence and sincerity of that poor but virtuous age, (such as are almost all those which begin governments, that ever come to last in the world) gave men one of another, made the first beginners of commonwealths generally put the rule into one man's hand, without any other express limitation or restraint, but what the nature of the thing, and the end of government required: which ever of those it was that at first put the rule into the hands of a single person, certain it is no body was intrusted with it but for the public good and safety, and to those ends, in the infancies of commonwealths, those who had it commonly used it. and unless they had done so, young societies could not have subsisted; without such nursing fathers tender and careful of the public weal, all governments would have sunk under the weakness and infirmities of their infancy, and the prince and the people had soon perished together. sect. . but though the golden age (before vain ambition, and amor sceleratus habendi, evil concupiscence, had corrupted men's minds into a mistake of true power and honour) had more virtue, and consequently better governors, as well as less vicious subjects, and there was then no stretching prerogative on the one side, to oppress the people; nor consequently on the other, any dispute about privilege, to lessen or restrain the power of the magistrate, and so no contest betwixt rulers and people about governors or government: yet, when ambition and luxury in future ages* would retain and increase the power, without doing the business for which it was given; and aided by flattery, taught princes to have distinct and separate interests from their people, men found it necessary to examine more carefully the original and rights of government; and to find out ways to restrain the exorbitances, and prevent the abuses of that power, which they having intrusted in another's hands only for their own good, they found was made use of to hurt them. (*at first, when some certain kind of regiment was once approved, it may be nothing was then farther thought upon for the manner of governing, but all permitted unto their wisdom and discretion which were to rule, till by experience they found this for all parts very inconvenient, so as the thing which they had devised for a remedy, did indeed but increase the sore which it should have cured. they saw, that to live by one man's will, became the cause of all men's misery. this constrained them to come unto laws wherein all men might see their duty before hand, and know the penalties of transgressing them. hooker's eccl. pol. l. i. sect. .) sect. . thus we may see how probable it is, that people that were naturally free, and by their own consent either submitted to the government of their father, or united together out of different families to make a government, should generally put the rule into one man's hands, and chuse to be under the conduct of a single person, without so much as by express conditions limiting or regulating his power, which they thought safe enough in his honesty and prudence; though they never dreamed of monarchy being lure divino, which we never heard of among mankind, till it was revealed to us by the divinity of this last age; nor ever allowed paternal power to have a right to dominion, or to be the foundation of all government. and thus much may suffice to shew, that as far as we have any light from history, we have reason to conclude, that all peaceful beginnings of government have been laid in the consent of the people. i say peaceful, because i shall have occasion in another place to speak of conquest, which some esteem a way of beginning of governments. the other objection i find urged against the beginning of polities, in the way i have mentioned, is this, viz. sect. . that all men being born under government, some or other, it is impossible any of them should ever be free, and at liberty to unite together, and begin a new one, or ever be able to erect a lawful government. if this argument be good; i ask, how came so many lawful monarchies into the world? for if any body, upon this supposition, can shew me any one man in any age of the world free to begin a lawful monarchy, i will be bound to shew him ten other free men at liberty, at the same time to unite and begin a new government under a regal, or any other form; it being demonstration, that if any one, born under the dominion of another, may be so free as to have a right to command others in a new and distinct empire, every one that is born under the dominion of another may be so free too, and may become a ruler, or subject, of a distinct separate government. and so by this their own principle, either all men, however born, are free, or else there is but one lawful prince, one lawful government in the world. and then they have nothing to do, but barely to shew us which that is; which when they have done, i doubt not but all mankind will easily agree to pay obedience to him. sect. . though it be a sufficient answer to their objection, to shew that it involves them in the same difficulties that it doth those they use it against; yet i shall endeavour to discover the weakness of this argument a little farther. all men, say they, are born under government, and therefore they cannot be at liberty to begin a new one. every one is born a subject to his father, or his prince, and is therefore under the perpetual tie of subjection and allegiance. it is plain mankind never owned nor considered any such natural subjection that they were born in, to one or to the other that tied them, without their own consents, to a subjection to them and their heirs. sect. . for there are no examples so frequent in history, both sacred and profane, as those of men withdrawing themselves, and their obedience, from the jurisdiction they were born under, and the family or community they were bred up in, and setting up new governments in other places; from whence sprang all that number of petty commonwealths in the beginning of ages, and which always multiplied, as long as there was room enough, till the stronger, or more fortunate, swallowed the weaker; and those great ones again breaking to pieces, dissolved into lesser dominions. all which are so many testimonies against paternal sovereignty, and plainly prove, that it was not the natural right of the father descending to his heirs, that made governments in the beginning, since it was impossible, upon that ground, there should have been so many little kingdoms; all must have been but only one universal monarchy, if men had not been at liberty to separate themselves from their families, and the government, be it what it will, that was set up in it, and go and make distinct commonwealths and other governments, as they thought fit. sect. . this has been the practice of the world from its first beginning to this day; nor is it now any more hindrance to the freedom of mankind, that they are born under constituted and ancient polities, that have established laws, and set forms of government, than if they were born in the woods, amongst the unconfined inhabitants, that run loose in them: for those, who would persuade us, that by being born under any government, we are naturally subjects to it, and have no more any title or pretence to the freedom of the state of nature, have no other reason (bating that of paternal power, which we have already answered) to produce for it, but only, because our fathers or progenitors passed away their natural liberty, and thereby bound up themselves and their posterity to a perpetual subjection to the government, which they themselves submitted to. it is true, that whatever engagements or promises any one has made for himself, he is under the obligation of them, but cannot, by any compact whatsoever, bind his children or posterity: for his son, when a man, being altogether as free as the father, any act of the father can no more give away the liberty of the son, than it can of any body else: he may indeed annex such conditions to the land, he enjoyed as a subject of any commonwealth, as may oblige his son to be of that community, if he will enjoy those possessions which were his father's; because that estate being his father's property, he may dispose, or settle it, as he pleases. sect. . and this has generally given the occasion to mistake in this matter; because commonwealths not permitting any part of their dominions to be dismembered, nor to be enjoyed by any but those of their community, the son cannot ordinarily enjoy the possessions of his father, but under the same terms his father did, by becoming a member of the society; whereby he puts himself presently under the government he finds there established, as much as any other subject of that commonwealth. and thus the consent of freemen, born under government, which only makes them members of it, being given separately in their turns, as each comes to be of age, and not in a multitude together; people take no notice of it, and thinking it not done at all, or not necessary, conclude they are naturally subjects as they are men. sect. . but, it is plain, governments themselves understand it otherwise; they claim no power over the son, because of that they had over the father; nor look on children as being their subjects, by their fathers being so. if a subject of england have a child, by an english woman in france, whose subject is he? not the king of england's; for he must have leave to be admitted to the privileges of it: nor the king of france's; for how then has his father a liberty to bring him away, and breed him as he pleases? and who ever was judged as a traytor or deserter, if he left, or warred against a country, for being barely born in it of parents that were aliens there? it is plain then, by the practice of governments themselves, as well as by the law of right reason, that a child is born a subject of no country or government. he is under his father's tuition and authority, till he comes to age of discretion; and then he is a freeman, at liberty what government he will put himself under, what body politic he will unite himself to: for if an englishman's son, born in france, be at liberty, and may do so, it is evident there is no tie upon him by his father's being a subject of this kingdom; nor is he bound up by any compact of his ancestors. and why then hath not his son, by the same reason, the same liberty, though he be born any where else? since the power that a father hath naturally over his children, is the same, where-ever they be born, and the ties of natural obligations, are not bounded by the positive limits of kingdoms and commonwealths. sect. . every man being, as has been shewed, naturally free, and nothing being able to put him into subjection to any earthly power, but only his own consent; it is to be considered, what shall be understood to be a sufficient declaration of a man's consent, to make him subject to the laws of any government. there is a common distinction of an express and a tacit consent, which will concern our present case. no body doubts but an express consent, of any man entering into any society, makes him a perfect member of that society, a subject of that government. the difficulty is, what ought to be looked upon as a tacit consent, and how far it binds, i.e. how far any one shall be looked on to have consented, and thereby submitted to any government, where he has made no expressions of it at all. and to this i say, that every man, that hath any possessions, or enjoyment, of any part of the dominions of any government, doth thereby give his tacit consent, and is as far forth obliged to obedience to the laws of that government, during such enjoyment, as any one under it; whether this his possession be of land, to him and his heirs for ever, or a lodging only for a week; or whether it be barely travelling freely on the highway; and in effect, it reaches as far as the very being of any one within the territories of that government. sect. . to understand this the better, it is fit to consider, that every man, when he at first incorporates himself into any commonwealth, he, by his uniting himself thereunto, annexed also, and submits to the community, those possessions, which he has, or shall acquire, that do not already belong to any other government: for it would be a direct contradiction, for any one to enter into society with others for the securing and regulating of property; and yet to suppose his land, whose property is to be regulated by the laws of the society, should be exempt from the jurisdiction of that government, to which he himself, the proprietor of the land, is a subject. by the same act therefore, whereby any one unites his person, which was before free, to any commonwealth, by the same he unites his possessions, which were before free, to it also; and they become, both of them, person and possession, subject to the government and dominion of that commonwealth, as long as it hath a being. whoever therefore, from thenceforth, by inheritance, purchase, permission, or otherways, enjoys any part of the land, so annexed to, and under the government of that commonwealth, must take it with the condition it is under; that is, of submitting to the government of the commonwealth, under whose jurisdiction it is, as far forth as any subject of it. sect. . but since the government has a direct jurisdiction only over the land, and reaches the possessor of it, (before he has actually incorporated himself in the society) only as he dwells upon, and enjoys that; the obligation any one is under, by virtue of such enjoyment, to submit to the government, begins and ends with the enjoyment; so that whenever the owner, who has given nothing but such a tacit consent to the government, will, by donation, sale, or otherwise, quit the said possession, he is at liberty to go and incorporate himself into any other commonwealth; or to agree with others to begin a new one, in vacuis locis, in any part of the world, they can find free and unpossessed: whereas he, that has once, by actual agreement, and any express declaration, given his consent to be of any commonwealth, is perpetually and indispensably obliged to be, and remain unalterably a subject to it, and can never be again in the liberty of the state of nature; unless, by any calamity, the government he was under comes to be dissolved; or else by some public act cuts him off from being any longer a member of it. sect. . but submitting to the laws of any country, living quietly, and enjoying privileges and protection under them, makes not a man a member of that society: this is only a local protection and homage due to and from all those, who, not being in a state of war, come within the territories belonging to any government, to all parts whereof the force of its laws extends. but this no more makes a man a member of that society, a perpetual subject of that commonwealth, than it would make a man a subject to another, in whose family he found it convenient to abide for some time; though, whilst he continued in it, he were obliged to comply with the laws, and submit to the government he found there. and thus we see, that foreigners, by living all their lives under another government, and enjoying the privileges and protection of it, though they are bound, even in conscience, to submit to its administration, as far forth as any denison; yet do not thereby come to be subjects or members of that commonwealth. nothing can make any man so, but his actually entering into it by positive engagement, and express promise and compact. this is that, which i think, concerning the beginning of political societies, and that consent which makes any one a member of any commonwealth. chapter. ix. of the ends of political society and government. sect. . if man in the state of nature be so free, as has been said; if he be absolute lord of his own person and possessions, equal to the greatest, and subject to no body, why will he part with his freedom? why will he give up this empire, and subject himself to the dominion and controul of any other power? to which it is obvious to answer, that though in the state of nature he hath such a right, yet the enjoyment of it is very uncertain, and constantly exposed to the invasion of others: for all being kings as much as he, every man his equal, and the greater part no strict observers of equity and justice, the enjoyment of the property he has in this state is very unsafe, very unsecure. this makes him willing to quit a condition, which, however free, is full of fears and continual dangers: and it is not without reason, that he seeks out, and is willing to join in society with others, who are already united, or have a mind to unite, for the mutual preservation of their lives, liberties and estates, which i call by the general name, property. sect. . the great and chief end, therefore, of men's uniting into commonwealths, and putting themselves under government, is the preservation of their property. to which in the state of nature there are many things wanting. first, there wants an established, settled, known law, received and allowed by common consent to be the standard of right and wrong, and the common measure to decide all controversies between them: for though the law of nature be plain and intelligible to all rational creatures; yet men being biassed by their interest, as well as ignorant for want of study of it, are not apt to allow of it as a law binding to them in the application of it to their particular cases. sect. . secondly, in the state of nature there wants a known and indifferent judge, with authority to determine all differences according to the established law: for every one in that state being both judge and executioner of the law of nature, men being partial to themselves, passion and revenge is very apt to carry them too far, and with too much heat, in their own cases; as well as negligence, and unconcernedness, to make them too remiss in other men's. sect. . thirdly, in the state of nature there often wants power to back and support the sentence when right, and to give it due execution, they who by any injustice offended, will seldom fail, where they are able, by force to make good their injustice; such resistance many times makes the punishment dangerous, and frequently destructive, to those who attempt it. sect. . thus mankind, notwithstanding all the privileges of the state of nature, being but in an ill condition, while they remain in it, are quickly driven into society. hence it comes to pass, that we seldom find any number of men live any time together in this state. the inconveniencies that they are therein exposed to, by the irregular and uncertain exercise of the power every man has of punishing the transgressions of others, make them take sanctuary under the established laws of government, and therein seek the preservation of their property. it is this makes them so willingly give up every one his single power of punishing, to be exercised by such alone, as shall be appointed to it amongst them; and by such rules as the community, or those authorized by them to that purpose, shall agree on. and in this we have the original right and rise of both the legislative and executive power, as well as of the governments and societies themselves. sect. . for in the state of nature, to omit the liberty he has of innocent delights, a man has two powers. the first is to do whatsoever he thinks fit for the preservation of himself, and others within the permission of the law of nature: by which law, common to them all, he and all the rest of mankind are one community, make up one society, distinct from all other creatures. and were it not for the corruption and vitiousness of degenerate men, there would be no need of any other; no necessity that men should separate from this great and natural community, and by positive agreements combine into smaller and divided associations. the other power a man has in the state of nature, is the power to punish the crimes committed against that law. both these he gives up, when he joins in a private, if i may so call it, or particular politic society, and incorporates into any commonwealth, separate from the rest of mankind. sect. . the first power, viz. of doing whatsoever he thought for the preservation of himself, and the rest of mankind, he gives up to be regulated by laws made by the society, so far forth as the preservation of himself, and the rest of that society shall require; which laws of the society in many things confine the liberty he had by the law of nature. sect. . secondly, the power of punishing he wholly gives up, and engages his natural force, (which he might before employ in the execution of the law of nature, by his own single authority, as he thought fit) to assist the executive power of the society, as the law thereof shall require: for being now in a new state, wherein he is to enjoy many conveniencies, from the labour, assistance, and society of others in the same community, as well as protection from its whole strength; he is to part also with as much of his natural liberty, in providing for himself, as the good, prosperity, and safety of the society shall require; which is not only necessary, but just, since the other members of the society do the like. sect. . but though men, when they enter into society, give up the equality, liberty, and executive power they had in the state of nature, into the hands of the society, to be so far disposed of by the legislative, as the good of the society shall require; yet it being only with an intention in every one the better to preserve himself, his liberty and property; (for no rational creature can be supposed to change his condition with an intention to be worse) the power of the society, or legislative constituted by them, can never be supposed to extend farther, than the common good; but is obliged to secure every one's property, by providing against those three defects above mentioned, that made the state of nature so unsafe and uneasy. and so whoever has the legislative or supreme power of any commonwealth, is bound to govern by established standing laws, promulgated and known to the people, and not by extemporary decrees; by indifferent and upright judges, who are to decide controversies by those laws; and to employ the force of the community at home, only in the execution of such laws, or abroad to prevent or redress foreign injuries, and secure the community from inroads and invasion. and all this to be directed to no other end, but the peace, safety, and public good of the people. chapter. x. of the forms of a common-wealth. sect. . the majority having, as has been shewed, upon men's first uniting into society, the whole power of the community naturally in them, may employ all that power in making laws for the community from time to time, and executing those laws by officers of their own appointing; and then the form of the government is a perfect democracy: or else may put the power of making laws into the hands of a few select men, and their heirs or successors; and then it is an oligarchy: or else into the hands of one man, and then it is a monarchy: if to him and his heirs, it is an hereditary monarchy: if to him only for life, but upon his death the power only of nominating a successor to return to them; an elective monarchy. and so accordingly of these the community may make compounded and mixed forms of government, as they think good. and if the legislative power be at first given by the majority to one or more persons only for their lives, or any limited time, and then the supreme power to revert to them again; when it is so reverted, the community may dispose of it again anew into what hands they please, and so constitute a new form of government: for the form of government depending upon the placing the supreme power, which is the legislative, it being impossible to conceive that an inferior power should prescribe to a superior, or any but the supreme make laws, according as the power of making laws is placed, such is the form of the commonwealth. sect. . by commonwealth, i must be understood all along to mean, not a democracy, or any form of government, but any independent community, which the latines signified by the word civitas, to which the word which best answers in our language, is commonwealth, and most properly expresses such a society of men, which community or city in english does not; for there may be subordinate communities in a government; and city amongst us has a quite different notion from commonwealth: and therefore, to avoid ambiguity, i crave leave to use the word commonwealth in that sense, in which i find it used by king james the first; and i take it to be its genuine signification; which if any body dislike, i consent with him to change it for a better. chapter. xi. of the extent of the legislative power. sect. . the great end of men's entering into society, being the enjoyment of their properties in peace and safety, and the great instrument and means of that being the laws established in that society; the first and fundamental positive law of all commonwealths is the establishing of the legislative power; as the first and fundamental natural law, which is to govern even the legislative itself, is the preservation of the society, and (as far as will consist with the public good) of every person in it. this legislative is not only the supreme power of the commonwealth, but sacred and unalterable in the hands where the community have once placed it; nor can any edict of any body else, in what form soever conceived, or by what power soever backed, have the force and obligation of a law, which has not its sanction from that legislative which the public has chosen and appointed: for without this the law could not have that, which is absolutely necessary to its being a law,* the consent of the society, over whom no body can have a power to make laws, but by their own consent, and by authority received from them; and therefore all the obedience, which by the most solemn ties any one can be obliged to pay, ultimately terminates in this supreme power, and is directed by those laws which it enacts: nor can any oaths to any foreign power whatsoever, or any domestic subordinate power, discharge any member of the society from his obedience to the legislative, acting pursuant to their trust; nor oblige him to any obedience contrary to the laws so enacted, or farther than they do allow; it being ridiculous to imagine one can be tied ultimately to obey any power in the society, which is not the supreme. (*the lawful power of making laws to command whole politic societies of men, belonging so properly unto the same intire societies, that for any prince or potentate of what kind soever upon earth, to exercise the same of himself, and not by express commission immediately and personally received from god, or else by authority derived at the first from their consent, upon whose persons they impose laws, it is no better than mere tyranny. laws they are not therefore which public approbation hath not made so. hooker's eccl. pol. l. i. sect. . of this point therefore we are to note, that such men naturally have no full and perfect power to command whole politic multitudes of men, therefore utterly without our consent, we could in such sort be at no man's commandment living. and to be commanded we do consent, when that society, whereof we be a part, hath at any time before consented, without revoking the same after by the like universal agreement. laws therefore human, of what kind so ever, are available by consent. ibid.) sect. . though the legislative, whether placed in one or more, whether it be always in being, or only by intervals, though it be the supreme power in every commonwealth; yet: first, it is not, nor can possibly be absolutely arbitrary over the lives and fortunes of the people: for it being but the joint power of every member of the society given up to that person, or assembly, which is legislator; it can be no more than those persons had in a state of nature before they entered into society, and gave up to the community: for no body can transfer to another more power than he has in himself; and no body has an absolute arbitrary power over himself, or over any other, to destroy his own life, or take away the life or property of another. a man, as has been proved, cannot subject himself to the arbitrary power of another; and having in the state of nature no arbitrary power over the life, liberty, or possession of another, but only so much as the law of nature gave him for the preservation of himself, and the rest of mankind; this is all he doth, or can give up to the commonwealth, and by it to the legislative power, so that the legislative can have no more than this. their power, in the utmost bounds of it, is limited to the public good of the society. it is a power, that hath no other end but preservation, and therefore can never have a right to destroy, enslave, or designedly to impoverish the subjects.* the obligations of the law of nature cease not in society, but only in many cases are drawn closer, and have by human laws known penalties annexed to them, to inforce their observation. thus the law of nature stands as an eternal rule to all men, legislators as well as others. the rules that they make for other men's actions, must, as well as their own and other men's actions, be conformable to the law of nature, i.e. to the will of god, of which that is a declaration, and the fundamental law of nature being the preservation of mankind, no human sanction can be good, or valid against it. (*two foundations there are which bear up public societies; the one a natural inclination, whereby all men desire sociable life and fellowship; the other an order, expresly or secretly agreed upon, touching the manner of their union in living together: the latter is that which we call the law of a common-weal, the very soul of a politic body, the parts whereof are by law animated, held together, and set on work in such actions as the common good requireth. laws politic, ordained for external order and regiment amongst men, are never framed as they should be, unless presuming the will of man to be inwardly obstinate, rebellious, and averse from all obedience to the sacred laws of his nature; in a word, unless presuming man to be, in regard of his depraved mind, little better than a wild beast, they do accordingly provide, notwithstanding, so to frame his outward actions, that they be no hindrance unto the common good, for which societies are instituted. unless they do this, they are not perfect. hooker's eccl. pol. l. i. sect. .) sect. . secondly, the legislative, or supreme authority, cannot assume to its self a power to rule by extemporary arbitrary decrees, but is bound to dispense justice, and decide the rights of the subject by promulgated standing laws, and known authorized judges:* for the law of nature being unwritten, and so no where to be found but in the minds of men, they who through passion or interest shall miscite, or misapply it, cannot so easily be convinced of their mistake where there is no established judge: and so it serves not, as it ought, to determine the rights, and fence the properties of those that live under it, especially where every one is judge, interpreter, and executioner of it too, and that in his own case: and he that has right on his side, having ordinarily but his own single strength, hath not force enough to defend himself from injuries, or to punish delinquents. to avoid these inconveniences, which disorder men's propperties in the state of nature, men unite into societies, that they may have the united strength of the whole society to secure and defend their properties, and may have standing rules to bound it, by which every one may know what is his. to this end it is that men give up all their natural power to the society which they enter into, and the community put the legislative power into such hands as they think fit, with this trust, that they shall be governed by declared laws, or else their peace, quiet, and property will still be at the same uncertainty, as it was in the state of nature. (*human laws are measures in respect of men whose actions they must direct, howbeit such measures they are as have also their higher rules to be measured by, which rules are two, the law of god, and the law of nature; so that laws human must be made according to the general laws of nature, and without contradiction to any positive law of scripture, otherwise they are ill made. hooker's eccl. pol. l. iii. sect. . to constrain men to any thing inconvenient doth seem unreasonable. ibid. l. i. sect. .) sect. . absolute arbitrary power, or governing without settled standing laws, can neither of them consist with the ends of society and government, which men would not quit the freedom of the state of nature for, and tie themselves up under, were it not to preserve their lives, liberties and fortunes, and by stated rules of right and property to secure their peace and quiet. it cannot be supposed that they should intend, had they a power so to do, to give to any one, or more, an absolute arbitrary power over their persons and estates, and put a force into the magistrate's hand to execute his unlimited will arbitrarily upon them. this were to put themselves into a worse condition than the state of nature, wherein they had a liberty to defend their right against the injuries of others, and were upon equal terms of force to maintain it, whether invaded by a single man, or many in combination. whereas by supposing they have given up themselves to the absolute arbitrary power and will of a legislator, they have disarmed themselves, and armed him, to make a prey of them when he pleases; he being in a much worse condition, who is exposed to the arbitrary power of one man, who has the command of , , than he that is exposed to the arbitrary power of , single men; no body being secure, that his will, who has such a command, is better than that of other men, though his force be , times stronger. and therefore, whatever form the commonwealth is under, the ruling power ought to govern by declared and received laws, and not by extemporary dictates and undetermined resolutions: for then mankind will be in a far worse condition than in the state of nature, if they shall have armed one, or a few men with the joint power of a multitude, to force them to obey at pleasure the exorbitant and unlimited decrees of their sudden thoughts, or unrestrained, and till that moment unknown wills, without having any measures set down which may guide and justify their actions: for all the power the government has, being only for the good of the society, as it ought not to be arbitrary and at pleasure, so it ought to be exercised by established and promulgated laws; that both the people may know their duty, and be safe and secure within the limits of the law; and the rulers too kept within their bounds, and not be tempted, by the power they have in their hands, to employ it to such purposes, and by such measures, as they would not have known, and own not willingly. sect. . thirdly, the supreme power cannot take from any man any part of his property without his own consent: for the preservation of property being the end of government, and that for which men enter into society, it necessarily supposes and requires, that the people should have property, without which they must be supposed to lose that, by entering into society, which was the end for which they entered into it; too gross an absurdity for any man to own. men therefore in society having property, they have such a right to the goods, which by the law of the community are their's, that no body hath a right to take their substance or any part of it from them, without their own consent: without this they have no property at all; for i have truly no property in that, which another can by right take from me, when he pleases, against my consent. hence it is a mistake to think, that the supreme or legislative power of any commonwealth, can do what it will, and dispose of the estates of the subject arbitrarily, or take any part of them at pleasure. this is not much to be feared in governments where the legislative consists, wholly or in part, in assemblies which are variable, whose members, upon the dissolution of the assembly, are subjects under the common laws of their country, equally with the rest. but in governments, where the legislative is in one lasting assembly always in being, or in one man, as in absolute monarchies, there is danger still, that they will think themselves to have a distinct interest from the rest of the community; and so will be apt to increase their own riches and power, by taking what they think fit from the people: for a man's property is not at all secure, tho' there be good and equitable laws to set the bounds of it between him and his fellow subjects, if he who commands those subjects have power to take from any private man, what part he pleases of his property, and use and dispose of it as he thinks good. sect. . but government, into whatsoever hands it is put, being, as i have before shewed, intrusted with this condition, and for this end, that men might have and secure their properties; the prince, or senate, however it may have power to make laws, for the regulating of property between the subjects one amongst another, yet can never have a power to take to themselves the whole, or any part of the subjects property, without their own consent: for this would be in effect to leave them no property at all. and to let us see, that even absolute power, where it is necessary, is not arbitrary by being absolute, but is still limited by that reason, and confined to those ends, which required it in some cases to be absolute, we need look no farther than the common practice of martial discipline: for the preservation of the army, and in it of the whole commonwealth, requires an absolute obedience to the command of every superior officer, and it is justly death to disobey or dispute the most dangerous or unreasonable of them; but yet we see, that neither the serjeant, that could command a soldier to march up to the mouth of a cannon, or stand in a breach, where he is almost sure to perish, can command that soldier to give him one penny of his money; nor the general, that can condemn him to death for deserting his post, or for not obeying the most desperate orders, can yet, with all his absolute power of life and death, dispose of one farthing of that soldier's estate, or seize one jot of his goods; whom yet he can command any thing, and hang for the least disobedience; because such a blind obedience is necessary to that end, for which the commander has his power, viz. the preservation of the rest; but the disposing of his goods has nothing to do with it. sect. . it is true, governments cannot be supported without great charge, and it is fit every one who enjoys his share of the protection, should pay out of his estate his proportion for the maintenance of it. but still it must be with his own consent, i.e. the consent of the majority, giving it either by themselves, or their representatives chosen by them: for if any one shall claim a power to lay and levy taxes on the people, by his own authority, and without such consent of the people, he thereby invades the fundamental law of property, and subverts the end of government: for what property have i in that, which another may by right take, when he pleases, to himself? sect. . fourthly, the legislative cannot transfer the power of making laws to any other hands: for it being but a delegated power from the people, they who have it cannot pass it over to others. the people alone can appoint the form of the commonwealth, which is by constituting the legislative, and appointing in whose hands that shall be. and when the people have said, we will submit to rules, and be governed by laws made by such men, and in such forms, no body else can say other men shall make laws for them; nor can the people be bound by any laws, but such as are enacted by those whom they have chosen, and authorized to make laws for them. the power of the legislative, being derived from the people by a positive voluntary grant and institution, can be no other than what that positive grant conveyed, which being only to make laws, and not to make legislators, the legislative can have no power to transfer their authority of making laws, and place it in other hands. sect. . these are the bounds which the trust, that is put in them by the society, and the law of god and nature, have set to the legislative power of every commonwealth, in all forms of government. first, they are to govern by promulgated established laws, not to be varied in particular cases, but to have one rule for rich and poor, for the favourite at court, and the country man at plough. secondly, these laws also ought to be designed for no other end ultimately, but the good of the people. thirdly, they must not raise taxes on the property of the people, without the consent of the people, given by themselves, or their deputies. and this properly concerns only such governments where the legislative is always in being, or at least where the people have not reserved any part of the legislative to deputies, to be from time to time chosen by themselves. fourthly, the legislative neither must nor can transfer the power of making laws to any body else, or place it any where, but where the people have. chapter. xii. of the legislative, executive, and federative power of the common-wealth. sect. . the legislative power is that, which has a right to direct how the force of the commonwealth shall be employed for preserving the community and the members of it. but because those laws which are constantly to be executed, and whose force is always to continue, may be made in a little time; therefore there is no need, that the legislative should be always in being, not having always business to do. and because it may be too great a temptation to human frailty, apt to grasp at power, for the same persons, who have the power of making laws, to have also in their hands the power to execute them, whereby they may exempt themselves from obedience to the laws they make, and suit the law, both in its making, and execution, to their own private advantage, and thereby come to have a distinct interest from the rest of the community, contrary to the end of society and government: therefore in wellordered commonwealths, where the good of the whole is so considered, as it ought, the legislative power is put into the hands of divers persons, who duly assembled, have by themselves, or jointly with others, a power to make laws, which when they have done, being separated again, they are themselves subject to the laws they have made; which is a new and near tie upon them, to take care, that they make them for the public good. sect. . but because the laws, that are at once, and in a short time made, have a constant and lasting force, and need a perpetual execution, or an attendance thereunto; therefore it is necessary there should be a power always in being, which should see to the execution of the laws that are made, and remain in force. and thus the legislative and executive power come often to be separated. sect. . there is another power in every commonwealth, which one may call natural, because it is that which answers to the power every man naturally had before he entered into society: for though in a commonwealth the members of it are distinct persons still in reference to one another, and as such as governed by the laws of the society; yet in reference to the rest of mankind, they make one body, which is, as every member of it before was, still in the state of nature with the rest of mankind. hence it is, that the controversies that happen between any man of the society with those that are out of it, are managed by the public; and an injury done to a member of their body, engages the whole in the reparation of it. so that under this consideration, the whole community is one body in the state of nature, in respect of all other states or persons out of its community. sect. . this therefore contains the power of war and peace, leagues and alliances, and all the transactions, with all persons and communities without the commonwealth, and may be called federative, if any one pleases. so the thing be understood, i am indifferent as to the name. sect. . these two powers, executive and federative, though they be really distinct in themselves, yet one comprehending the execution of the municipal laws of the society within its self, upon all that are parts of it; the other the management of the security and interest of the public without, with all those that it may receive benefit or damage from, yet they are always almost united. and though this federative power in the well or ill management of it be of great moment to the commonwealth, yet it is much less capable to be directed by antecedent, standing, positive laws, than the executive; and so must necessarily be left to the prudence and wisdom of those, whose hands it is in, to be managed for the public good: for the laws that concern subjects one amongst another, being to direct their actions, may well enough precede them. but what is to be done in reference to foreigners, depending much upon their actions, and the variation of designs and interests, must be left in great part to the prudence of those, who have this power committed to them, to be managed by the best of their skill, for the advantage of the commonwealth. sect. . though, as i said, the executive and federative power of every community be really distinct in themselves, yet they are hardly to be separated, and placed at the same time, in the hands of distinct persons: for both of them requiring the force of the society for their exercise, it is almost impracticable to place the force of the commonwealth in distinct, and not subordinate hands; or that the executive and federative power should be placed in persons, that might act separately, whereby the force of the public would be under different commands: which would be apt some time or other to cause disorder and ruin. chapter. xiii. of the subordination of the powers of the common-wealth. sect. . though in a constituted commonwealth, standing upon its own basis, and acting according to its own nature, that is, acting for the preservation of the community, there can be but one supreme power, which is the legislative, to which all the rest are and must be subordinate, yet the legislative being only a fiduciary power to act for certain ends, there remains still in the people a supreme power to remove or alter the legislative, when they find the legislative act contrary to the trust reposed in them: for all power given with trust for the attaining an end, being limited by that end, whenever that end is manifestly neglected, or opposed, the trust must necessarily be forfeited, and the power devolve into the hands of those that gave it, who may place it anew where they shall think best for their safety and security. and thus the community perpetually retains a supreme power of saving themselves from the attempts and designs of any body, even of their legislators, whenever they shall be so foolish, or so wicked, as to lay and carry on designs against the liberties and properties of the subject: for no man or society of men, having a power to deliver up their preservation, or consequently the means of it, to the absolute will and arbitrary dominion of another; when ever any one shall go about to bring them into such a slavish condition, they will always have a right to preserve, what they have not a power to part with; and to rid themselves of those, who invade this fundamental, sacred, and unalterable law of self-preservation, for which they entered into society. and thus the community may be said in this respect to be always the supreme power, but not as considered under any form of government, because this power of the people can never take place till the government be dissolved. sect. . in all cases, whilst the government subsists, the legislative is the supreme power: for what can give laws to another, must needs be superior to him; and since the legislative is no otherwise legislative of the society, but by the right it has to make laws for all the parts, and for every member of the society, prescribing rules to their actions, and giving power of execution, where they are transgressed, the legislative must needs be the supreme, and all other powers, in any members or parts of the society, derived from and subordinate to it. sect. . in some commonwealths, where the legislative is not always in being, and the executive is vested in a single person, who has also a share in the legislative; there that single person in a very tolerable sense may also be called supreme: not that he has in himself all the supreme power, which is that of law-making; but because he has in him the supreme execution, from whom all inferior magistrates derive all their several subordinate powers, or at least the greatest part of them: having also no legislative superior to him, there being no law to be made without his consent, which cannot be expected should ever subject him to the other part of the legislative, he is properly enough in this sense supreme. but yet it is to be observed, that tho' oaths of allegiance and fealty are taken to him, it is not to him as supreme legislator, but as supreme executor of the law, made by a joint power of him with others; allegiance being nothing but an obedience according to law, which when he violates, he has no right to obedience, nor can claim it otherwise than as the public person vested with the power of the law, and so is to be considered as the image, phantom, or representative of the commonwealth, acted by the will of the society, declared in its laws; and thus he has no will, no power, but that of the law. but when he quits this representation, this public will, and acts by his own private will, he degrades himself, and is but a single private person without power, and without will, that has any right to obedience; the members owing no obedience but to the public will of the society. sect. . the executive power, placed any where but in a person that has also a share in the legislative, is visibly subordinate and accountable to it, and may be at pleasure changed and displaced; so that it is not the supreme executive power, that is exempt from subordination, but the supreme executive power vested in one, who having a share in the legislative, has no distinct superior legislative to be subordinate and accountable to, farther than he himself shall join and consent; so that he is no more subordinate than he himself shall think fit, which one may certainly conclude will be but very little. of other ministerial and subordinate powers in a commonwealth, we need not speak, they being so multiplied with infinite variety, in the different customs and constitutions of distinct commonwealths, that it is impossible to give a particular account of them all. only thus much, which is necessary to our present purpose, we may take notice of concerning them, that they have no manner of authority, any of them, beyond what is by positive grant and commission delegated to them, and are all of them accountable to some other power in the commonwealth. sect. . it is not necessary, no, nor so much as convenient, that the legislative should be always in being; but absolutely necessary that the executive power should, because there is not always need of new laws to be made, but always need of execution of the laws that are made. when the legislative hath put the execution of the laws, they make, into other hands, they have a power still to resume it out of those hands, when they find cause, and to punish for any maladministration against the laws. the same holds also in regard of the federative power, that and the executive being both ministerial and subordinate to the legislative, which, as has been shewed, in a constituted commonwealth is the supreme. the legislative also in this case being supposed to consist of several persons, (for if it be a single person, it cannot but be always in being, and so will, as supreme, naturally have the supreme executive power, together with the legislative) may assemble, and exercise their legislature, at the times that either their original constitution, or their own adjournment, appoints, or when they please; if neither of these hath appointed any time, or there be no other way prescribed to convoke them: for the supreme power being placed in them by the people, it is always in them, and they may exercise it when they please, unless by their original constitution they are limited to certain seasons, or by an act of their supreme power they have adjourned to a certain time; and when that time comes, they have a right to assemble and act again. sect. . if the legislative, or any part of it, be made up of representatives chosen for that time by the people, which afterwards return into the ordinary state of subjects, and have no share in the legislature but upon a new choice, this power of chusing must also be exercised by the people, either at certain appointed seasons, or else when they are summoned to it; and in this latter case the power of convoking the legislative is ordinarily placed in the executive, and has one of these two limitations in respect of time: that either the original constitution requires their assembling and acting at certain intervals, and then the executive power does nothing but ministerially issue directions for their electing and assembling, according to due forms; or else it is left to his prudence to call them by new elections, when the occasions or exigencies of the public require the amendment of old, or making of new laws, or the redress or prevention of any inconveniencies, that lie on, or threaten the people. sect. . it may be demanded here, what if the executive power, being possessed of the force of the commonwealth, shall make use of that force to hinder the meeting and acting of the legislative, when the original constitution, or the public exigencies require it? i say, using force upon the people without authority, and contrary to the trust put in him that does so, is a state of war with the people, who have a right to reinstate their legislative in the exercise of their power: for having erected a legislative, with an intent they should exercise the power of making laws, either at certain set times, or when there is need of it, when they are hindered by any force from what is so necessary to the society, and wherein the safety and preservation of the people consists, the people have a right to remove it by force. in all states and conditions, the true remedy of force without authority, is to oppose force to it. the use of force without authority, always puts him that uses it into a state of war, as the aggressor, and renders him liable to be treated accordingly. sect. . the power of assembling and dismissing the legislative, placed in the executive, gives not the executive a superiority over it, but is a fiduciary trust placed in him, for the safety of the people, in a case where the uncertainty and variableness of human affairs could not bear a steady fixed rule: for it not being possible, that the first framers of the government should, by any foresight, be so much masters of future events, as to be able to prefix so just periods of return and duration to the assemblies of the legislative, in all times to come, that might exactly answer all the exigencies of the commonwealth; the best remedy could be found for this defect, was to trust this to the prudence of one who was always to be present, and whose business it was to watch over the public good. constant frequent meetings of the legislative, and long continuations of their assemblies, without necessary occasion, could not but be burdensome to the people, and must necessarily in time produce more dangerous inconveniencies, and yet the quick turn of affairs might be sometimes such as to need their present help: any delay of their convening might endanger the public; and sometimes too their business might be so great, that the limited time of their sitting might be too short for their work, and rob the public of that benefit which could be had only from their mature deliberation. what then could be done in this case to prevent the community from being exposed some time or other to eminent hazard, on one side or the other, by fixed intervals and periods, set to the meeting and acting of the legislative, but to intrust it to the prudence of some, who being present, and acquainted with the state of public affairs, might make use of this prerogative for the public good? and where else could this be so well placed as in his hands, who was intrusted with the execution of the laws for the same end? thus supposing the regulation of times for the assembling and sitting of the legislative, not settled by the original constitution, it naturally fell into the hands of the executive, not as an arbitrary power depending on his good pleasure, but with this trust always to have it exercised only for the public weal, as the occurrences of times and change of affairs might require. whether settled periods of their convening, or a liberty left to the prince for convoking the legislative, or perhaps a mixture of both, hath the least inconvenience attending it, it is not my business here to inquire, but only to shew, that though the executive power may have the prerogative of convoking and dissolving such conventions of the legislative, yet it is not thereby superior to it. sect. . things of this world are in so constant a flux, that nothing remains long in the same state. thus people, riches, trade, power, change their stations, flourishing mighty cities come to ruin, and prove in times neglected desolate corners, whilst other unfrequented places grow into populous countries, filled with wealth and inhabitants. but things not always changing equally, and private interest often keeping up customs and privileges, when the reasons of them are ceased, it often comes to pass, that in governments, where part of the legislative consists of representatives chosen by the people, that in tract of time this representation becomes very unequal and disproportionate to the reasons it was at first established upon. to what gross absurdities the following of custom, when reason has left it, may lead, we may be satisfied, when we see the bare name of a town, of which there remains not so much as the ruins, where scarce so much housing as a sheepcote, or more inhabitants than a shepherd is to be found, sends as many representatives to the grand assembly of law-makers, as a whole county numerous in people, and powerful in riches. this strangers stand amazed at, and every one must confess needs a remedy; tho' most think it hard to find one, because the constitution of the legislative being the original and supreme act of the society, antecedent to all positive laws in it, and depending wholly on the people, no inferior power can alter it. and therefore the people, when the legislative is once constituted, having, in such a government as we have been speaking of, no power to act as long as the government stands; this inconvenience is thought incapable of a remedy. sect. . salus populi suprema lex, is certainly so just and fundamental a rule, that he, who sincerely follows it, cannot dangerously err. if therefore the executive, who has the power of convoking the legislative, observing rather the true proportion, than fashion of representation, regulates, not by old custom, but true reason, the number of members, in all places that have a right to be distinctly represented, which no part of the people however incorporated can pretend to, but in proportion to the assistance which it affords to the public, it cannot be judged to have set up a new legislative, but to have restored the old and true one, and to have rectified the disorders which succession of time had insensibly, as well as inevitably introduced: for it being the interest as well as intention of the people, to have a fair and equal representative; whoever brings it nearest to that, is an undoubted friend to, and establisher of the government, and cannot miss the consent and approbation of the community; prerogative being nothing but a power, in the hands of the prince, to provide for the public good, in such cases, which depending upon unforeseen and uncertain occurrences, certain and unalterable laws could not safely direct; whatsoever shall be done manifestly for the good of the people, and the establishing the government upon its true foundations, is, and always will be, just prerogative, the power of erecting new corporations, and therewith new representatives, carries with it a supposition, that in time the measures of representation might vary, and those places have a just right to be represented which before had none; and by the same reason, those cease to have a right, and be too inconsiderable for such a privilege, which before had it. 'tis not a change from the present state, which perhaps corruption or decay has introduced, that makes an inroad upon the government, but the tendency of it to injure or oppress the people, and to set up one part or party, with a distinction from, and an unequal subjection of the rest. whatsoever cannot but be acknowledged to be of advantage to the society, and people in general, upon just and lasting measures, will always, when done, justify itself; and whenever the people shall chuse their representatives upon just and undeniably equal measures, suitable to the original frame of the government, it cannot be doubted to be the will and act of the society, whoever permitted or caused them so to do. chapter. xiv. of prerogative. sect. . where the legislative and executive power are in distinct hands, (as they are in all moderated monarchies, and well-framed governments) there the good of the society requires, that several things should be left to the discretion of him that has the executive power: for the legislators not being able to foresee, and provide by laws, for all that may be useful to the community, the executor of the laws having the power in his hands, has by the common law of nature a right to make use of it for the good of the society, in many cases, where the municipal law has given no direction, till the legislative can conveniently be assembled to provide for it. many things there are, which the law can by no means provide for; and those must necessarily be left to the discretion of him that has the executive power in his hands, to be ordered by him as the public good and advantage shall require: nay, it is fit that the laws themselves should in some cases give way to the executive power, or rather to this fundamental law of nature and government, viz. that as much as may be, all the members of the society are to be preserved: for since many accidents may happen, wherein a strict and rigid observation of the laws may do harm; (as not to pull down an innocent man's house to stop the fire, when the next to it is burning) and a man may come sometimes within the reach of the law, which makes no distinction of persons, by an action that may deserve reward and pardon; 'tis fit the ruler should have a power, in many cases, to mitigate the severity of the law, and pardon some offenders: for the end of government being the preservation of all, as much as may be, even the guilty are to be spared, where it can prove no prejudice to the innocent. sect. . this power to act according to discretion, for the public good, without the prescription of the law, and sometimes even against it, is that which is called prerogative: for since in some governments the lawmaking power is not always in being, and is usually too numerous, and so too slow, for the dispatch requisite to execution; and because also it is impossible to foresee, and so by laws to provide for, all accidents and necessities that may concern the public, or to make such laws as will do no harm, if they are executed with an inflexible rigour, on all occasions, and upon all persons that may come in their way; therefore there is a latitude left to the executive power, to do many things of choice which the laws do not prescribe. sect. . this power, whilst employed for the benefit of the community, and suitably to the trust and ends of the government, is undoubted prerogative, and never is questioned: for the people are very seldom or never scrupulous or nice in the point; they are far from examining prerogative, whilst it is in any tolerable degree employed for the use it was meant, that is, for the good of the people, and not manifestly against it: but if there comes to be a question between the executive power and the people, about a thing claimed as a prerogative; the tendency of the exercise of such prerogative to the good or hurt of the people, will easily decide that question. sect. . it is easy to conceive, that in the infancy of governments, when commonwealths differed little from families in number of people, they differed from them too but little in number of laws: and the governors, being as the fathers of them, watching over them for their good, the government was almost all prerogative. a few established laws served the turn, and the discretion and care of the ruler supplied the rest. but when mistake or flattery prevailed with weak princes to make use of this power for private ends of their own, and not for the public good, the people were fain by express laws to get prerogative determined in those points wherein they found disadvantage from it: and thus declared limitations of prerogative were by the people found necessary in cases which they and their ancestors had left, in the utmost latitude, to the wisdom of those princes who made no other but a right use of it, that is, for the good of their people. sect. . and therefore they have a very wrong notion of government, who say, that the people have encroached upon the prerogative, when they have got any part of it to be defined by positive laws: for in so doing they have not pulled from the prince any thing that of right belonged to him, but only declared, that that power which they indefinitely left in his or his ancestors hands, to be exercised for their good, was not a thing which they intended him when he used it otherwise: for the end of government being the good of the community, whatsoever alterations are made in it, tending to that end, cannot be an encroachment upon any body, since no body in government can have a right tending to any other end: and those only are encroachments which prejudice or hinder the public good. those who say otherwise, speak as if the prince had a distinct and separate interest from the good of the community, and was not made for it; the root and source from which spring almost all those evils and disorders which happen in kingly governments. and indeed, if that be so, the people under his government are not a society of rational creatures, entered into a community for their mutual good; they are not such as have set rulers over themselves, to guard, and promote that good; but are to be looked on as an herd of inferior creatures under the dominion of a master, who keeps them and works them for his own pleasure or profit. if men were so void of reason, and brutish, as to enter into society upon such terms, prerogative might indeed be, what some men would have it, an arbitrary power to do things hurtful to the people. sect. . but since a rational creature cannot be supposed, when free, to put himself into subjection to another, for his own harm; (though, where he finds a good and wise ruler, he may not perhaps think it either necessary or useful to set precise bounds to his power in all things) prerogative can be nothing but the people's permitting their rulers to do several things, of their own free choice, where the law was silent, and sometimes too against the direct letter of the law, for the public good; and their acquiescing in it when so done: for as a good prince, who is mindful of the trust put into his hands, and careful of the good of his people, cannot have too much prerogative, that is, power to do good; so a weak and ill prince, who would claim that power which his predecessors exercised without the direction of the law, as a prerogative belonging to him by right of his office, which he may exercise at his pleasure, to make or promote an interest distinct from that of the public, gives the people an occasion to claim their right, and limit that power, which, whilst it was exercised for their good, they were content should be tacitly allowed. sect. . and therefore he that will look into the history of england, will find, that prerogative was always largest in the hands of our wisest and best princes; because the people, observing the whole tendency of their actions to be the public good, contested not what was done without law to that end: or, if any human frailty or mistake (for princes are but men, made as others) appeared in some small declinations from that end; yet 'twas visible, the main of their conduct tended to nothing but the care of the public. the people therefore, finding reason to be satisfied with these princes, whenever they acted without, or contrary to the letter of the law, acquiesced in what they did, and, without the least complaint, let them inlarge their prerogative as they pleased, judging rightly, that they did nothing herein to the prejudice of their laws, since they acted conformable to the foundation and end of all laws, the public good. sect. . such god-like princes indeed had some title to arbitrary power by that argument, that would prove absolute monarchy the best government, as that which god himself governs the universe by; because such kings partake of his wisdom and goodness. upon this is founded that saying, that the reigns of good princes have been always most dangerous to the liberties of their people: for when their successors, managing the government with different thoughts, would draw the actions of those good rulers into precedent, and make them the standard of their prerogative, as if what had been done only for the good of the people was a right in them to do, for the harm of the people, if they so pleased; it has often occasioned contest, and sometimes public disorders, before the people could recover their original right, and get that to be declared not to be prerogative, which truly was never so; since it is impossible that any body in the society should ever have a right to do the people harm; though it be very possible, and reasonable, that the people should not go about to set any bounds to the prerogative of those kings, or rulers, who themselves transgressed not the bounds of the public good: for prerogative is nothing but the power of doing public good without a rule. sect. . the power of calling parliaments in england, as to precise time, place, and duration, is certainly a prerogative of the king, but still with this trust, that it shall be made use of for the good of the nation, as the exigencies of the times, and variety of occasions, shall require: for it being impossible to foresee which should always be the fittest place for them to assemble in, and what the best season; the choice of these was left with the executive power, as might be most subservient to the public good, and best suit the ends of parliaments. sect. . the old question will be asked in this matter of prerogative, but who shall be judge when this power is made a right use of one answer: between an executive power in being, with such a prerogative, and a legislative that depends upon his will for their convening, there can be no judge on earth; as there can be none between the legislative and the people, should either the executive, or the legislative, when they have got the power in their hands, design, or go about to enslave or destroy them. the people have no other remedy in this, as in all other cases where they have no judge on earth, but to appeal to heaven: for the rulers, in such attempts, exercising a power the people never put into their hands, (who can never be supposed to consent that any body should rule over them for their harm) do that which they have not a right to do. and where the body of the people, or any single man, is deprived of their right, or is under the exercise of a power without right, and have no appeal on earth, then they have a liberty to appeal to heaven, whenever they judge the cause of sufficient moment. and therefore, though the people cannot be judge, so as to have, by the constitution of that society, any superior power, to determine and give effective sentence in the case; yet they have, by a law antecedent and paramount to all positive laws of men, reserved that ultimate determination to themselves which belongs to all mankind, where there lies no appeal on earth, viz. to judge, whether they have just cause to make their appeal to heaven. and this judgment they cannot part with, it being out of a man's power so to submit himself to another, as to give him a liberty to destroy him; god and nature never allowing a man so to abandon himself, as to neglect his own preservation: and since he cannot take away his own life, neither can he give another power to take it. nor let any one think, this lays a perpetual foundation for disorder; for this operates not, till the inconveniency is so great, that the majority feel it, and are weary of it, and find a necessity to have it amended. but this the executive power, or wise princes, never need come in the danger of: and it is the thing, of all others, they have most need to avoid, as of all others the most perilous. chapter. xv. of paternal, political, and despotical power, considered together. sect. . though i have had occasion to speak of these separately before, yet the great mistakes of late about government, having, as i suppose, arisen from confounding these distinct powers one with another, it may not, perhaps, be amiss to consider them here together. sect. . first, then, paternal or parental power is nothing but that which parents have over their children, to govern them for the children's good, till they come to the use of reason, or a state of knowledge, wherein they may be supposed capable to understand that rule, whether it be the law of nature, or the municipal law of their country, they are to govern themselves by: capable, i say, to know it, as well as several others, who live as freemen under that law. the affection and tenderness which god hath planted in the breast of parents towards their children, makes it evident, that this is not intended to be a severe arbitrary government, but only for the help, instruction, and preservation of their offspring. but happen it as it will, there is, as i have proved, no reason why it should be thought to extend to life and death, at any time, over their children, more than over any body else; neither can there be any pretence why this parental power should keep the child, when grown to a man, in subjection to the will of his parents, any farther than having received life and education from his parents, obliges him to respect, honour, gratitude, assistance and support, all his life, to both father and mother. and thus, 'tis true, the paternal is a natural government, but not at all extending itself to the ends and jurisdictions of that which is political. the power of the father doth not reach at all to the property of the child, which is only in his own disposing. sect. . secondly, political power is that power, which every man having in the state of nature, has given up into the hands of the society, and therein to the governors, whom the society hath set over itself, with this express or tacit trust, that it shall be employed for their good, and the preservation of their property: now this power, which every man has in the state of nature, and which he parts with to the society in all such cases where the society can secure him, is to use such means, for the preserving of his own property, as he thinks good, and nature allows him; and to punish the breach of the law of nature in others, so as (according to the best of his reason) may most conduce to the preservation of himself, and the rest of mankind. so that the end and measure of this power, when in every man's hands in the state of nature, being the preservation of all of his society, that is, all mankind in general, it can have no other end or measure, when in the hands of the magistrate, but to preserve the members of that society in their lives, liberties, and possessions; and so cannot be an absolute, arbitrary power over their lives and fortunes, which are as much as possible to be preserved; but a power to make laws, and annex such penalties to them, as may tend to the preservation of the whole, by cutting off those parts, and those only, which are so corrupt, that they threaten the sound and healthy, without which no severity is lawful. and this power has its original only from compact and agreement, and the mutual consent of those who make up the community. sect. . thirdly, despotical power is an absolute, arbitrary power one man has over another, to take away his life, whenever he pleases. this is a power, which neither nature gives, for it has made no such distinction between one man and another; nor compact can convey: for man not having such an arbitrary power over his own life, cannot give another man such a power over it; but it is the effect only of forfeiture, which the aggressor makes of his own life, when he puts himself into the state of war with another: for having quitted reason, which god hath given to be the rule betwixt man and man, and the common bond whereby human kind is united into one fellowship and society; and having renounced the way of peace which that teaches, and made use of the force of war, to compass his unjust ends upon another, where he has no right; and so revolting from his own kind to that of beasts, by making force, which is their's, to be his rule of right, he renders himself liable to be destroyed by the injured person, and the rest of mankind, that will join with him in the execution of justice, as any other wild beast, or noxious brute, with whom mankind can have neither society nor security*. and thus captives, taken in a just and lawful war, and such only, are subject to a despotical power, which, as it arises not from compact, so neither is it capable of any, but is the state of war continued: for what compact can be made with a man that is not master of his own life? what condition can he perform? and if he be once allowed to be master of his own life, the despotical, arbitrary power of his master ceases. he that is master of himself, and his own life, has a right too to the means of preserving it; so that as soon as compact enters, slavery ceases, and he so far quits his absolute power, and puts an end to the state of war, who enters into conditions with his captive. (*another copy corrected by mr. locke, has it thus, noxious brute that is destructive to their being.) sect. . nature gives the first of these, viz. paternal power to parents for the benefit of their children during their minority, to supply their want of ability, and understanding how to manage their property. (by property i must be understood here, as in other places, to mean that property which men have in their persons as well as goods.) voluntary agreement gives the second, viz. political power to governors for the benefit of their subjects, to secure them in the possession and use of their properties. and forfeiture gives the third despotical power to lords for their own benefit, over those who are stripped of all property. sect. . he, that shall consider the distinct rise and extent, and the different ends of these several powers, will plainly see, that paternal power comes as far short of that of the magistrate, as despotical exceeds it; and that absolute dominion, however placed, is so far from being one kind of civil society, that it is as inconsistent with it, as slavery is with property. paternal power is only where minority makes the child incapable to manage his property; political, where men have property in their own disposal; and despotical, over such as have no property at all. chapter. xvi. of conquest. sect. . though governments can originally have no other rise than that before mentioned, nor polities be founded on any thing but the consent of the people; yet such have been the disorders ambition has filled the world with, that in the noise of war, which makes so great a part of the history of mankind, this consent is little taken notice of: and therefore many have mistaken the force of arms for the consent of the people, and reckon conquest as one of the originals of government. but conquest is as far from setting up any government, as demolishing an house is from building a new one in the place. indeed, it often makes way for a new frame of a commonwealth, by destroying the former; but, without the consent of the people, can never erect a new one. sect. . that the aggressor, who puts himself into the state of war with another, and unjustly invades another man's right, can, by such an unjust war, never come to have a right over the conquered, will be easily agreed by all men, who will not think, that robbers and pyrates have a right of empire over whomsoever they have force enough to master; or that men are bound by promises, which unlawful force extorts from them. should a robber break into my house, and with a dagger at my throat make me seal deeds to convey my estate to him, would this give him any title? just such a title, by his sword, has an unjust conqueror, who forces me into submission. the injury and the crime is equal, whether committed by the wearer of a crown, or some petty villain. the title of the offender, and the number of his followers, make no difference in the offence, unless it be to aggravate it. the only difference is, great robbers punish little ones, to keep them in their obedience; but the great ones are rewarded with laurels and triumphs, because they are too big for the weak hands of justice in this world, and have the power in their own possession, which should punish offenders. what is my remedy against a robber, that so broke into my house? appeal to the law for justice. but perhaps justice is denied, or i am crippled and cannot stir, robbed and have not the means to do it. if god has taken away all means of seeking remedy, there is nothing left but patience. but my son, when able, may seek the relief of the law, which i am denied: he or his son may renew his appeal, till he recover his right. but the conquered, or their children, have no court, no arbitrator on earth to appeal to. then they may appeal, as jephtha did, to heaven, and repeat their appeal till they have recovered the native right of their ancestors, which was, to have such a legislative over them, as the majority should approve, and freely acquiesce in. if it be objected, this would cause endless trouble; i answer, no more than justice does, where she lies open to all that appeal to her. he that troubles his neighbour without a cause, is punished for it by the justice of the court he appeals to: and he that appeals to heaven must be sure he has right on his side; and a right too that is worth the trouble and cost of the appeal, as he will answer at a tribunal that cannot be deceived, and will be sure to retribute to every one according to the mischiefs he hath created to his fellow subjects; that is, any part of mankind: from whence it is plain, that he that conquers in an unjust war can thereby have no title to the subjection and obedience of the conquered. sect. . but supposing victory favours the right side, let us consider a conqueror in a lawful war, and see what power he gets, and over whom. first, it is plain he gets no power by his conquest over those that conquered with him. they that fought on his side cannot suffer by the conquest, but must at least be as much freemen as they were before. and most commonly they serve upon terms, and on condition to share with their leader, and enjoy a part of the spoil, and other advantages that attend the conquering sword; or at least have a part of the subdued country bestowed upon them. and the conquering people are not, i hope, to be slaves by conquest, and wear their laurels only to shew they are sacrifices to their leaders triumph. they that found absolute monarchy upon the title of the sword, make their heroes, who are the founders of such monarchies, arrant draw-can-sirs, and forget they had any officers and soldiers that fought on their side in the battles they won, or assisted them in the subduing, or shared in possessing, the countries they mastered. we are told by some, that the english monarchy is founded in the norman conquest, and that our princes have thereby a title to absolute dominion: which if it were true, (as by the history it appears otherwise) and that william had a right to make war on this island; yet his dominion by conquest could reach no farther than to the saxons and britons, that were then inhabitants of this country. the normans that came with him, and helped to conquer, and all descended from them, are freemen, and no subjects by conquest; let that give what dominion it will. and if i, or any body else, shall claim freedom, as derived from them, it will be very hard to prove the contrary: and it is plain, the law, that has made no distinction between the one and the other, intends not there should be any difference in their freedom or privileges. sect. . but supposing, which seldom happens, that the conquerors and conquered never incorporate into one people, under the same laws and freedom; let us see next what power a lawful conqueror has over the subdued: and that i say is purely despotical. he has an absolute power over the lives of those who by an unjust war have forfeited them; but not over the lives or fortunes of those who engaged not in the war, nor over the possessions even of those who were actually engaged in it. sect. . secondly, i say then the conqueror gets no power but only over those who have actually assisted, concurred, or consented to that unjust force that is used against him: for the people having given to their governors no power to do an unjust thing, such as is to make an unjust war, (for they never had such a power in themselves) they ought not to be charged as guilty of the violence and unjustice that is committed in an unjust war, any farther than they actually abet it; no more than they are to be thought guilty of any violence or oppression their governors should use upon the people themselves, or any part of their fellow subjects, they having empowered them no more to the one than to the other. conquerors, it is true, seldom trouble themselves to make the distinction, but they willingly permit the confusion of war to sweep all together: but yet this alters not the right; for the conquerors power over the lives of the conquered, being only because they have used force to do, or maintain an injustice, he can have that power only over those who have concurred in that force; all the rest are innocent; and he has no more title over the people of that country, who have done him no injury, and so have made no forfeiture of their lives, than he has over any other, who, without any injuries or provocations, have lived upon fair terms with him. sect. . thirdly, the power a conqueror gets over those he overcomes in a just war, is perfectly despotical: he has an absolute power over the lives of those, who, by putting themselves in a state of war, have forfeited them; but he has not thereby a right and title to their possessions. this i doubt not, but at first sight will seem a strange doctrine, it being so quite contrary to the practice of the world; there being nothing more familiar in speaking of the dominion of countries, than to say such an one conquered it; as if conquest, without any more ado, conveyed a right of possession. but when we consider, that the practice of the strong and powerful, how universal soever it may be, is seldom the rule of right, however it be one part of the subjection of the conquered, not to argue against the conditions cut out to them by the conquering sword. sect. . though in all war there be usually a complication of force and damage, and the aggressor seldom fails to harm the estate, when he uses force against the persons of those he makes war upon; yet it is the use of force only that puts a man into the state of war: for whether by force he begins the injury, or else having quietly, and by fraud, done the injury, he refuses to make reparation, and by force maintains it, (which is the same thing, as at first to have done it by force) it is the unjust use of force that makes the war: for he that breaks open my house, and violently turns me out of doors; or having peaceably got in, by force keeps me out, does in effect the same thing; supposing we are in such a state, that we have no common judge on earth, whom i may appeal to, and to whom we are both obliged to submit: for of such i am now speaking. it is the unjust use of force then, that puts a man into the state of war with another; and thereby he that is guilty of it makes a forfeiture of his life: for quitting reason, which is the rule given between man and man, and using force, the way of beasts, he becomes liable to be destroyed by him he uses force against, as any savage ravenous beast, that is dangerous to his being. sect. . but because the miscarriages of the father are no faults of the children, and they may be rational and peaceable, notwithstanding the brutishness and injustice of the father; the father, by his miscarriages and violence, can forfeit but his own life, but involves not his children in his guilt or destruction. his goods, which nature, that willeth the preservation of all mankind as much as is possible, hath made to belong to the children to keep them from perishing, do still continue to belong to his children: for supposing them not to have joined in the war, either thro' infancy, absence, or choice, they have done nothing to forfeit them: nor has the conqueror any right to take them away, by the bare title of having subdued him that by force attempted his destruction; though perhaps he may have some right to them, to repair the damages he has sustained by the war, and the defence of his own right; which how far it reaches to the possessions of the conquered, we shall see by and by. so that he that by conquest has a right over a man's person to destroy him if he pleases, has not thereby a right over his estate to possess and enjoy it: for it is the brutal force the aggressor has used, that gives his adversary a right to take away his life, and destroy him if he pleases, as a noxious creature; but it is damage sustained that alone gives him title to another man's goods: for though i may kill a thief that sets on me in the highway, yet i may not (which seems less) take away his money, and let him go: this would be robbery on my side. his force, and the state of war he put himself in, made him forfeit his life, but gave me no title to his goods. the right then of conquest extends only to the lives of those who joined in the war, not to their estates, but only in order to make reparation for the damages received, and the charges of the war, and that too with reservation of the right of the innocent wife and children. sect. . let the conqueror have as much justice on his side, as could be supposed, he has no right to seize more than the vanquished could forfeit: his life is at the victor's mercy; and his service and goods he may appropriate, to make himself reparation; but he cannot take the goods of his wife and children; they too had a title to the goods he enjoyed, and their shares in the estate he possessed: for example, i in the state of nature (and all commonwealths are in the state of nature one with another) have injured another man, and refusing to give satisfaction, it comes to a state of war, wherein my defending by force what i had gotten unjustly, makes me the aggressor. i am conquered: my life, it is true, as forfeit, is at mercy, but not my wife's and children's. they made not the war, nor assisted in it. i could not forfeit their lives; they were not mine to forfeit. my wife had a share in my estate; that neither could i forfeit. and my children also, being born of me, had a right to be maintained out of my labour or substance. here then is the case: the conqueror has a title to reparation for damages received, and the children have a title to their father's estate for their subsistence: for as to the wife's share, whether her own labour, or compact, gave her a title to it, it is plain, her husband could not forfeit what was her's. what must be done in the case? i answer; the fundamental law of nature being, that all, as much as may be, should be preserved, it follows, that if there be not enough fully to satisfy both, viz, for the conqueror's losses, and children's maintenance, he that hath, and to spare, must remit something of his full satisfaction, and give way to the pressing and preferable title of those who are in danger to perish without it. sect. . but supposing the charge and damages of the war are to be made up to the conqueror, to the utmost farthing; and that the children of the vanquished, spoiled of all their father's goods, are to be left to starve and perish; yet the satisfying of what shall, on this score, be due to the conqueror, will scarce give him a title to any country he shall conquer: for the damages of war can scarce amount to the value of any considerable tract of land, in any part of the world, where all the land is possessed, and none lies waste. and if i have not taken away the conqueror's land, which, being vanquished, it is impossible i should; scarce any other spoil i have done him can amount to the value of mine, supposing it equally cultivated, and of an extent any way coming near what i had overrun of his. the destruction of a year's product or two (for it seldom reaches four or five) is the utmost spoil that usually can be done: for as to money, and such riches and treasure taken away, these are none of nature's goods, they have but a fantastical imaginary value: nature has put no such upon them: they are of no more account by her standard, than the wampompeke of the americans to an european prince, or the silver money of europe would have been formerly to an american. and five years product is not worth the perpetual inheritance of land, where all is possessed, and none remains waste, to be taken up by him that is disseized: which will be easily granted, if one do but take away the imaginary value of money, the disproportion being more than between five and five hundred; though, at the same time, half a year's product is more worth than the inheritance, where there being more land than the inhabitants possess and make use of, any one has liberty to make use of the waste: but there conquerors take little care to possess themselves of the lands of the vanquished, no damage therefore, that men in the state of nature (as all princes and governments are in reference to one another) suffer from one another, can give a conqueror power to dispossess the posterity of the vanquished, and turn them out of that inheritance, which ought to be the possession of them and their descendants to all generations. the conqueror indeed will be apt to think himself master: and it is the very condition of the subdued not to be able to dispute their right. but if that be all, it gives no other title than what bare force gives to the stronger over the weaker: and, by this reason, he that is strongest will have a right to whatever he pleases to seize on. sect. . over those then that joined with him in the war, and over those of the subdued country that opposed him not, and the posterity even of those that did, the conqueror, even in a just war, hath, by his conquest, no right of dominion: they are free from any subjection to him, and if their former government be dissolved, they are at liberty to begin and erect another to themselves. sect. . the conqueror, it is true, usually, by the force he has over them, compels them, with a sword at their breasts, to stoop to his conditions, and submit to such a government as he pleases to afford them; but the enquiry is, what right he has to do so? if it be said, they submit by their own consent, then this allows their own consent to be necessary to give the conqueror a title to rule over them. it remains only to be considered, whether promises extorted by force, without right, can be thought consent, and how far they bind. to which i shall say, they bind not at all; because whatsoever another gets from me by force, i still retain the right of, and he is obliged presently to restore. he that forces my horse from me, ought presently to restore him, and i have still a right to retake him. by the same reason, he that forced a promise from me, ought presently to restore it, i.e. quit me of the obligation of it; or i may resume it myself, i.e. chuse whether i will perform it: for the law of nature laying an obligation on me only by the rules she prescribes, cannot oblige me by the violation of her rules: such is the extorting any thing from me by force. nor does it at all alter the case to say, i gave my promise, no more than it excuses the force, and passes the right, when i put my hand in my pocket, and deliver my purse myself to a thief, who demands it with a pistol at my breast. sect. . from all which it follows, that the government of a conqueror, imposed by force on the subdued, against whom he had no right of war, or who joined not in the war against him, where he had right, has no obligation upon them. sect. . but let us suppose, that all the men of that community, being all members of the same body politic, may be taken to have joined in that unjust war wherein they are subdued, and so their lives are at the mercy of the conqueror. sect. . i say this concerns not their children who are in their minority: for since a father hath not, in himself, a power over the life or liberty of his child, no act of his can possibly forfeit it. so that the children, whatever may have happened to the fathers, are freemen, and the absolute power of the conqueror reaches no farther than the persons of the men that were subdued by him, and dies with them: and should he govern them as slaves, subjected to his absolute arbitrary power, he has no such right of dominion over their children. he can have no power over them but by their own consent, whatever he may drive them to say or do; and he has no lawfull authority, whilst force, and not choice, compels them to submission. sect. . every man is born with a double right: first, a right of freedom to his person, which no other man has a power over, but the free disposal of it lies in himself. secondly, a right, before any other man, to inherit with his brethren his father's goods. sect. . by the first of these, a man is naturally free from subjection to any government, tho' he be born in a place under its jurisdiction; but if he disclaim the lawful government of the country he was born in, he must also quit the right that belonged to him by the laws of it, and the possessions there descending to him from his ancestors, if it were a government made by their consent. sect. . by the second, the inhabitants of any country, who are descended, and derive a title to their estates from those who are subdued, and had a government forced upon them against their free consents, retain a right to the possession of their ancestors, though they consent not freely to the government, whose hard conditions were by force imposed on the possessors of that country: for the first conqueror never having had a title to the land of that country, the people who are the descendants of, or claim under those who were forced to submit to the yoke of a government by constraint, have always a right to shake it off, and free themselves from the usurpation or tyranny which the sword hath brought in upon them, till their rulers put them under such a frame of government as they willingly and of choice consent to. who doubts but the grecian christians, descendants of the ancient possessors of that country, may justly cast off the turkish yoke, which they have so long groaned under, whenever they have an opportunity to do it? for no government can have a right to obedience from a people who have not freely consented to it; which they can never be supposed to do, till either they are put in a full state of liberty to chuse their government and governors, or at least till they have such standing laws, to which they have by themselves or their representatives given their free consent, and also till they are allowed their due property, which is so to be proprietors of what they have, that no body can take away any part of it without their own consent, without which, men under any government are not in the state of freemen, but are direct slaves under the force of war. sect. . but granting that the conqueror in a just war has a right to the estates, as well as power over the persons, of the conquered; which, it is plain, he hath not: nothing of absolute power will follow from hence, in the continuance of the government; because the descendants of these being all freemen, if he grants them estates and possessions to inhabit his country, (without which it would be worth nothing) whatsoever he grants them, they have, so far as it is granted, property in. the nature whereof is, that without a man's own consent it cannot be taken from him. sect. . their persons are free by a native right, and their properties, be they more or less, are their own, and at their own dispose, and not at his; or else it is no property. supposing the conqueror gives to one man a thousand acres, to him and his heirs for ever; to another he lets a thousand acres for his life, under the rent of _l_. or _l_. per ann. has not the one of these a right to his thousand acres for ever, and the other, during his life, paying the said rent? and hath not the tenant for life a property in all that he gets over and above his rent, by his labour and industry during the said term, supposing it be double the rent? can any one say, the king, or conqueror, after his grant, may by his power of conqueror take away all, or part of the land from the heirs of one, or from the other during his life, he paying the rent? or can he take away from either the goods or money they have got upon the said land, at his pleasure? if he can, then all free and voluntary contracts cease, and are void in the world; there needs nothing to dissolve them at any time, but power enough: and all the grants and promises of men in power are but mockery and collusion: for can there be any thing more ridiculous than to say, i give you and your's this for ever, and that in the surest and most solemn way of conveyance can be devised; and yet it is to be understood, that i have right, if i please, to take it away from you again to morrow? sect. . i will not dispute now whether princes are exempt from the laws of their country; but this i am sure, they owe subjection to the laws of god and nature. no body, no power, can exempt them from the obligations of that eternal law. those are so great, and so strong, in the case of promises, that omnipotency itself can be tied by them. grants, promises, and oaths, are bonds that hold the almighty: whatever some flatterers say to princes of the world, who all together, with all their people joined to them, are, in comparison of the great god, but as a drop of the bucket, or a dust on the balance, inconsiderable, nothing! sect. . the short of the case in conquest is this: the conqueror, if he have a just cause, has a despotical right over the persons of all, that actually aided, and concurred in the war against him, and a right to make up his damage and cost out of their labour and estates, so he injure not the right of any other. over the rest of the people, if there were any that consented not to the war, and over the children of the captives themselves, or the possessions of either, he has no power; and so can have, by virtue of conquest, no lawful title himself to dominion over them, or derive it to his posterity; but is an aggressor, if he attempts upon their properties, and thereby puts himself in a state of war against them, and has no better a right of principality, he, nor any of his successors, than hingar, or hubba, the danes, had here in england; or spartacus, had he conquered italy, would have had; which is to have their yoke cast off, as soon as god shall give those under their subjection courage and opportunity to do it. thus, notwithstanding whatever title the kings of assyria had over judah, by the sword, god assisted hezekiah to throw off the dominion of that conquering empire. and the lord was with hezekiah, and he prospered; wherefore he went forth, and he rebelled against the king of assyria, and served him not, kings xviii. . whence it is plain, that shaking off a power, which force, and not right, hath set over any one, though it hath the name of rebellion, yet is no offence before god, but is that which he allows and countenances, though even promises and covenants, when obtained by force, have intervened: for it is very probable, to any one that reads the story of ahaz and hezekiah attentively, that the assyrians subdued ahaz, and deposed him, and made hezekiah king in his father's lifetime; and that hezekiah by agreement had done him homage, and paid him tribute all this time. chapter. xvii. of usurpation. sect. . as conquest may be called a foreign usurpation, so usurpation is a kind of domestic conquest, with this difference, that an usurper can never have right on his side, it being no usurpation, but where one is got into the possession of what another has right to. this, so far as it is usurpation, is a change only of persons, but not of the forms and rules of the government: for if the usurper extend his power beyond what of right belonged to the lawful princes, or governors of the commonwealth, it is tyranny added to usurpation. sect. . in all lawful governments, the designation of the persons, who are to bear rule, is as natural and necessary a part as the form of the government itself, and is that which had its establishment originally from the people; the anarchy being much alike, to have no form of government at all; or to agree, that it shall be monarchical, but to appoint no way to design the person that shall have the power, and be the monarch. hence all commonwealths, with the form of government established, have rules also of appointing those who are to have any share in the public authority, and settled methods of conveying the right to them: for the anarchy is much alike, to have no form of government at all; or to agree that it shall be monarchical, but to appoint no way to know or design the person that shall have the power, and be the monarch. whoever gets into the exercise of any part of the power, by other ways than what the laws of the community have prescribed, hath no right to be obeyed, though the form of the commonwealth be still preserved; since he is not the person the laws have appointed, and consequently not the person the people have consented to. nor can such an usurper, or any deriving from him, ever have a title, till the people are both at liberty to consent, and have actually consented to allow, and confirm in him the power he hath till then usurped. chapter. xviii. of tyranny. sect. . as usurpation is the exercise of power, which another hath a right to; so tyranny is the exercise of power beyond right, which no body can have a right to. and this is making use of the power any one has in his hands, not for the good of those who are under it, but for his own private separate advantage. when the governor, however intitled, makes not the law, but his will, the rule; and his commands and actions are not directed to the preservation of the properties of his people, but the satisfaction of his own ambition, revenge, covetousness, or any other irregular passion. sect. . if one can doubt this to be truth, or reason, because it comes from the obscure hand of a subject, i hope the authority of a king will make it pass with him. king james the first, in his speech to the parliament, , tells them thus, /# i will ever prefer the weal of the public, and of the whole commonwealth, in making of good laws and constitutions, to any particular and private ends of mine; thinking ever the wealth and weal of the commonwealth to be my greatest weal and worldly felicity; a point wherein a lawful king doth directly differ from a tyrant: for i do acknowledge, that the special and greatest point of difference that is between a rightful king and an usurping tyrant, is this, that whereas the proud and ambitious tyrant doth think his kingdom and people are only ordained for satisfaction of his desires and unreasonable appetites, the righteous and just king doth by the contrary acknowledge himself to be ordained for the procuring of the wealth and property of his people. #/ and again, in his speech to the parliament, , he hath these words: /# the king binds himself by a double oath, to the observation of the fundamental laws of his kingdom; tacitly, as by being a king, and so bound to protect as well the people, as the laws of his kingdom; and expressly, by his oath at his coronation, so as every just king, in a settled kingdom, is bound to observe that paction made to his people, by his laws, in framing his government agreeable thereunto, according to that paction which god made with noah after the deluge. hereafter, seed-time and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night, shall not cease while the earth remaineth. and therefore a king governing in a settled kingdom, leaves to be a king, and degenerates into a tyrant, as soon as he leaves off to rule according to his laws. #/ and a little after, /# therefore all kings that are not tyrants, or perjured, will be glad to bound themselves within the limits of their laws; and they that persuade them the contrary, are vipers, and pests both against them and the commonwealth. #/ thus that learned king, who well understood the notion of things, makes the difference betwixt a king and a tyrant to consist only in this, that one makes the laws the bounds of his power, and the good of the public, the end of his government; the other makes all give way to his own will and appetite. sect. . it is a mistake, to think this fault is proper only to monarchies; other forms of government are liable to it, as well as that: for wherever the power, that is put in any hands for the government of the people, and the preservation of their properties, is applied to other ends, and made use of to impoverish, harass, or subdue them to the arbitrary and irregular commands of those that have it; there it presently becomes tyranny, whether those that thus use it are one or many. thus we read of the thirty tyrants at athens, as well as one at syracuse; and the intolerable dominion of the decemviri at rome was nothing better. sect. . where-ever law ends, tyranny begins, if the law be transgressed to another's harm; and whosoever in authority exceeds the power given him by the law, and makes use of the force he has under his command, to compass that upon the subject, which the law allows not, ceases in that to be a magistrate; and, acting without authority, may be opposed, as any other man, who by force invades the right of another. this is acknowledged in subordinate magistrates. he that hath authority to seize my person in the street, may be opposed as a thief and a robber, if he endeavours to break into my house to execute a writ, notwithstanding that i know he has such a warrant, and such a legal authority, as will impower him to arrest me abroad. and why this should not hold in the highest, as well as in the most inferior magistrate, i would gladly be informed. is it reasonable, that the eldest brother, because he has the greatest part of his father's estate, should thereby have a right to take away any of his younger brothers portions? or that a rich man, who possessed a whole country, should from thence have a right to seize, when he pleased, the cottage and garden of his poor neighbour? the being rightfully possessed of great power and riches, exceedingly beyond the greatest part of the sons of adam, is so far from being an excuse, much less a reason, for rapine and oppression, which the endamaging another without authority is, that it is a great aggravation of it: for the exceeding the bounds of authority is no more a right in a great, than in a petty officer; no more justifiable in a king than a constable; but is so much the worse in him, in that he has more trust put in him, has already a much greater share than the rest of his brethren, and is supposed, from the advantages of his education, employment, and counsellors, to be more knowing in the measures of right and wrong. sect. . may the commands then of a prince be opposed? may he be resisted as often as any one shall find himself aggrieved, and but imagine he has not right done him? this will unhinge and overturn all polities, and, instead of government and order, leave nothing but anarchy and confusion. sect. . to this i answer, that force is to be opposed to nothing, but to unjust and unlawful force; whoever makes any opposition in any other case, draws on himself a just condemnation both from god and man; and so no such danger or confusion will follow, as is often suggested: for, sect. . first, as, in some countries, the person of the prince by the law is sacred; and so, whatever he commands or does, his person is still free from all question or violence, not liable to force, or any judicial censure or condemnation. but yet opposition may be made to the illegal acts of any inferior officer, or other commissioned by him; unless he will, by actually putting himself into a state of war with his people, dissolve the government, and leave them to that defence which belongs to every one in the state of nature: for of such things who can tell what the end will be? and a neighbour kingdom has shewed the world an odd example. in all other cases the sacredness of the person exempts him from all inconveniencies, whereby he is secure, whilst the government stands, from all violence and harm whatsoever; than which there cannot be a wiser constitution: for the harm he can do in his own person not being likely to happen often, nor to extend itself far; nor being able by his single strength to subvert the laws, nor oppress the body of the people, should any prince have so much weakness, and ill nature as to be willing to do it, the inconveniency of some particular mischiefs, that may happen sometimes, when a heady prince comes to the throne, are well recompensed by the peace of the public, and security of the government, in the person of the chief magistrate, thus set out of the reach of danger: it being safer for the body, that some few private men should be sometimes in danger to suffer, than that the head of the republic should be easily, and upon slight occasions, exposed. sect. . secondly, but this privilege, belonging only to the king's person, hinders not, but they may be questioned, opposed, and resisted, who use unjust force, though they pretend a commission from him, which the law authorizes not; as is plain in the case of him that has the king's writ to arrest a man, which is a full commission from the king; and yet he that has it cannot break open a man's house to do it, nor execute this command of the king upon certain days, nor in certain places, though this commission have no such exception in it; but they are the limitations of the law, which if any one transgress, the king's commission excuses him not: for the king's authority being given him only by the law, he cannot impower any one to act against the law, or justify him, by his commission, in so doing; the commission, or command of any magistrate, where he has no authority, being as void and insignificant, as that of any private man; the difference between the one and the other, being that the magistrate has some authority so far, and to such ends, and the private man has none at all: for it is not the commission, but the authority, that gives the right of acting; and against the laws there can be no authority. but, notwithstanding such resistance, the king's person and authority are still both secured, and so no danger to governor or government. sect. . thirdly, supposing a government wherein the person of the chief magistrate is not thus sacred; yet this doctrine of the lawfulness of resisting all unlawful exercises of his power, will not upon every slight occasion indanger him, or imbroil the government: for where the injured party may be relieved, and his damages repaired by appeal to the law, there can be no pretence for force, which is only to be used where a man is intercepted from appealing to the law: for nothing is to be accounted hostile force, but where it leaves not the remedy of such an appeal; and it is such force alone, that puts him that uses it into a state of war, and makes it lawful to resist him. a man with a sword in his hand demands my purse in the high-way, when perhaps i have not twelve pence in my pocket: this man i may lawfully kill. to another i deliver pounds to hold only whilst i alight, which he refuses to restore me, when i am got up again, but draws his sword to defend the possession of it by force, if i endeavour to retake it. the mischief this man does me is a hundred, or possibly a thousand times more than the other perhaps intended me (whom i killed before he really did me any); and yet i might lawfully kill the one, and cannot so much as hurt the other lawfully. the reason whereof is plain; because the one using force, which threatened my life, i could not have time to appeal to the law to secure it: and when it was gone, it was too late to appeal. the law could not restore life to my dead carcass: the loss was irreparable; which to prevent, the law of nature gave me a right to destroy him, who had put himself into a state of war with me, and threatened my destruction. but in the other case, my life not being in danger, i may have the benefit of appealing to the law, and have reparation for my pounds that way. sect. . fourthly, but if the unlawful acts done by the magistrate be maintained (by the power he has got), and the remedy which is due by law, be by the same power obstructed; yet the right of resisting, even in such manifest acts of tyranny, will not suddenly, or on slight occasions, disturb the government: for if it reach no farther than some private men's cases, though they have a right to defend themselves, and to recover by force what by unlawful force is taken from them; yet the right to do so will not easily engage them in a contest, wherein they are sure to perish; it being as impossible for one, or a few oppressed men to disturb the government, where the body of the people do not think themselves concerned in it, as for a raving mad-man, or heady malcontent to overturn a well settled state; the people being as little apt to follow the one, as the other. sect. . but if either these illegal acts have extended to the majority of the people; or if the mischief and oppression has lighted only on some few, but in such cases, as the precedent, and consequences seem to threaten all; and they are persuaded in their consciences, that their laws, and with them their estates, liberties, and lives are in danger, and perhaps their religion too; how they will be hindered from resisting illegal force, used against them, i cannot tell. this is an inconvenience, i confess, that attends all governments whatsoever, when the governors have brought it to this pass, to be generally suspected of their people; the most dangerous state which they can possibly put themselves in, wherein they are the less to be pitied, because it is so easy to be avoided; it being as impossible for a governor, if he really means the good of his people, and the preservation of them, and their laws together, not to make them see and feel it, as it is for the father of a family, not to let his children see he loves, and takes care of them. sect. . but if all the world shall observe pretences of one kind, and actions of another; arts used to elude the law, and the trust of prerogative (which is an arbitrary power in some things left in the prince's hand to do good, not harm to the people) employed contrary to the end for which it was given: if the people shall find the ministers and subordinate magistrates chosen suitable to such ends, and favoured, or laid by, proportionably as they promote or oppose them: if they see several experiments made of arbitrary power, and that religion underhand favoured, (tho' publicly proclaimed against) which is readiest to introduce it; and the operators in it supported, as much as may be; and when that cannot be done, yet approved still, and liked the better: if a long train of actions shew the councils all tending that way; how can a man any more hinder himself from being persuaded in his own mind, which way things are going; or from casting about how to save himself, than he could from believing the captain of the ship he was in, was carrying him, and the rest of the company, to algiers, when he found him always steering that course, though cross winds, leaks in his ship, and want of men and provisions did often force him to turn his course another way for some time, which he steadily returned to again, as soon as the wind, weather, and other circumstances would let him? chapter. xix. of the dissolution of government. sect. . he that will with any clearness speak of the dissolution of government, ought in the first place to distinguish between the dissolution of the society and the dissolution of the government. that which makes the community, and brings men out of the loose state of nature, into one politic society, is the agreement which every one has with the rest to incorporate, and act as one body, and so be one distinct commonwealth. the usual, and almost only way whereby this union is dissolved, is the inroad of foreign force making a conquest upon them: for in that case, (not being able to maintain and support themselves, as one intire and independent body) the union belonging to that body which consisted therein, must necessarily cease, and so every one return to the state he was in before, with a liberty to shift for himself, and provide for his own safety, as he thinks fit, in some other society. whenever the society is dissolved, it is certain the government of that society cannot remain. thus conquerors swords often cut up governments by the roots, and mangle societies to pieces, separating the subdued or scattered multitude from the protection of, and dependence on, that society which ought to have preserved them from violence. the world is too well instructed in, and too forward to allow of, this way of dissolving of governments, to need any more to be said of it; and there wants not much argument to prove, that where the society is dissolved, the government cannot remain; that being as impossible, as for the frame of an house to subsist when the materials of it are scattered and dissipated by a whirl-wind, or jumbled into a confused heap by an earthquake. sect. . besides this over-turning from without, governments are dissolved from within. first, when the legislative is altered. civil society being a state of peace, amongst those who are of it, from whom the state of war is excluded by the umpirage, which they have provided in their legislative, for the ending all differences that may arise amongst any of them, it is in their legislative, that the members of a commonwealth are united, and combined together into one coherent living body. this is the soul that gives form, life, and unity, to the commonwealth: from hence the several members have their mutual influence, sympathy, and connexion: and therefore, when the legislative is broken, or dissolved, dissolution and death follows: for the essence and union of the society consisting in having one will, the legislative, when once established by the majority, has the declaring, and as it were keeping of that will. the constitution of the legislative is the first and fundamental act of society, whereby provision is made for the continuation of their union, under the direction of persons, and bonds of laws, made by persons authorized thereunto, by the consent and appointment of the people, without which no one man, or number of men, amongst them, can have authority of making laws that shall be binding to the rest. when any one, or more, shall take upon them to make laws, whom the people have not appointed so to do, they make laws without authority, which the people are not therefore bound to obey; by which means they come again to be out of subjection, and may constitute to themselves a new legislative, as they think best, being in full liberty to resist the force of those, who without authority would impose any thing upon them. every one is at the disposure of his own will, when those who had, by the delegation of the society, the declaring of the public will, are excluded from it, and others usurp the place, who have no such authority or delegation. sect. . this being usually brought about by such in the commonwealth who misuse the power they have; it is hard to consider it aright, and know at whose door to lay it, without knowing the form of government in which it happens. let us suppose then the legislative placed in the concurrence of three distinct persons. (<i> </i>). a single hereditary person, having the constant, supreme, executive power, and with it the power of convoking and dissolving the other two within certain periods of time. (<i> </i>). an assembly of hereditary nobility. (<i> </i>). an assembly of representatives chosen, pro tempore, by the people. such a form of government supposed, it is evident, sect. . first, that when such a single person, or prince, sets up his own arbitrary will in place of the laws, which are the will of the society, declared by the legislative, then the legislative is changed: for that being in effect the legislative, whose rules and laws are put in execution, and required to be obeyed; when other laws are set up, and other rules pretended, and inforced, than what the legislative, constituted by the society, have enacted, it is plain that the legislative is changed. whoever introduces new laws, not being thereunto authorized by the fundamental appointment of the society, or subverts the old, disowns and overturns the power by which they were made, and so sets up a new legislative. sect. . secondly, when the prince hinders the legislative from assembling in its due time, or from acting freely, pursuant to those ends for which it was constituted, the legislative is altered: for it is not a certain number of men, no, nor their meeting, unless they have also freedom of debating, and leisure of perfecting, what is for the good of the society, wherein the legislative consists: when these are taken away or altered, so as to deprive the society of the due exercise of their power, the legislative is truly altered; for it is not names that constitute governments, but the use and exercise of those powers that were intended to accompany them; so that he, who takes away the freedom, or hinders the acting of the legislative in its due seasons, in effect takes away the legislative, and puts an end to the government. sect. . thirdly, when, by the arbitrary power of the prince, the electors, or ways of election, are altered, without the consent, and contrary to the common interest of the people, there also the legislative is altered: for, if others than those whom the society hath authorized thereunto, do chuse, or in another way than what the society hath prescribed, those chosen are not the legislative appointed by the people. sect. . fourthly, the delivery also of the people into the subjection of a foreign power, either by the prince, or by the legislative, is certainly a change of the legislative, and so a dissolution of the government: for the end why people entered into society being to be preserved one intire, free, independent society, to be governed by its own laws; this is lost, whenever they are given up into the power of another. sect. . why, in such a constitution as this, the dissolution of the government in these cases is to be imputed to the prince, is evident; because he, having the force, treasure and offices of the state to employ, and often persuading himself, or being flattered by others, that as supreme magistrate he is uncapable of controul; he alone is in a condition to make great advances toward such changes, under pretence of lawful authority, and has it in his hands to terrify or suppress opposers, as factious, seditious, and enemies to the government: whereas no other part of the legislative, or people, is capable by themselves to attempt any alteration of the legislative, without open and visible rebellion, apt enough to be taken notice of, which, when it prevails, produces effects very little different from foreign conquest. besides, the prince in such a form of government, having the power of dissolving the other parts of the legislative, and thereby rendering them private persons, they can never in opposition to him, or without his concurrence, alter the legislative by a law, his consent being necessary to give any of their decrees that sanction. but yet, so far as the other parts of the legislative any way contribute to any attempt upon the government, and do either promote, or not, what lies in them, hinder such designs, they are guilty, and partake in this, which is certainly the greatest crime which men can partake of one towards another. sec. .there is one way more whereby such a government may be dissolved, and that is: when he who has the supreme executive power, neglects and abandons that charge, so that the laws already made can no longer be put in execution. this is demonstratively to reduce all to anarchy, and so effectually to dissolve the government: for laws not being made for themselves, but to be, by their execution, the bonds of the society, to keep every part of the body politic in its due place and function; when that totally ceases, the government visibly ceases, and the people become a confused multitude, without order or connexion. where there is no longer the administration of justice, for the securing of men's rights, nor any remaining power within the community to direct the force, or provide for the necessities of the public, there certainly is no government left. where the laws cannot be executed, it is all one as if there were no laws; and a government without laws is, i suppose, a mystery in politics, unconceivable to human capacity, and inconsistent with human society. sect. . in these and the like cases, when the government is dissolved, the people are at liberty to provide for themselves, by erecting a new legislative, differing from the other, by the change of persons, or form, or both, as they shall find it most for their safety and good: for the society can never, by the fault of another, lose the native and original right it has to preserve itself, which can only be done by a settled legislative, and a fair and impartial execution of the laws made by it. but the state of mankind is not so miserable that they are not capable of using this remedy, till it be too late to look for any. to tell people they may provide for themselves, by erecting a new legislative, when by oppression, artifice, or being delivered over to a foreign power, their old one is gone, is only to tell them, they may expect relief when it is too late, and the evil is past cure. this is in effect no more than to bid them first be slaves, and then to take care of their liberty; and when their chains are on, tell them, they may act like freemen. this, if barely so, is rather mockery than relief; and men can never be secure from tyranny, if there be no means to escape it till they are perfectly under it: and therefore it is, that they have not only a right to get out of it, but to prevent it. sect. . there is therefore, secondly, another way whereby governments are dissolved, and that is, when the legislative, or the prince, either of them, act contrary to their trust. first, the legislative acts against the trust reposed in them, when they endeavour to invade the property of the subject, and to make themselves, or any part of the community, masters, or arbitrary disposers of the lives, liberties, or fortunes of the people. sect. . the reason why men enter into society, is the preservation of their property; and the end why they chuse and authorize a legislative, is, that there may be laws made, and rules set, as guards and fences to the properties of all the members of the society, to limit the power, and moderate the dominion, of every part and member of the society: for since it can never be supposed to be the will of the society, that the legislative should have a power to destroy that which every one designs to secure, by entering into society, and for which the people submitted themselves to legislators of their own making; whenever the legislators endeavour to take away, and destroy the property of the people, or to reduce them to slavery under arbitrary power, they put themselves into a state of war with the people, who are thereupon absolved from any farther obedience, and are left to the common refuge, which god hath provided for all men, against force and violence. whensoever therefore the legislative shall transgress this fundamental rule of society; and either by ambition, fear, folly or corruption, endeavour to grasp themselves, or put into the hands of any other, an absolute power over the lives, liberties, and estates of the people; by this breach of trust they forfeit the power the people had put into their hands for quite contrary ends, and it devolves to the people, who have a right to resume their original liberty, and, by the establishment of a new legislative, (such as they shall think fit) provide for their own safety and security, which is the end for which they are in society. what i have said here, concerning the legislative in general, holds true also concerning the supreme executor, who having a double trust put in him, both to have a part in the legislative, and the supreme execution of the law, acts against both, when he goes about to set up his own arbitrary will as the law of the society. he acts also contrary to his trust, when he either employs the force, treasure, and offices of the society, to corrupt the representatives, and gain them to his purposes; or openly preengages the electors, and prescribes to their choice, such, whom he has, by sollicitations, threats, promises, or otherwise, won to his designs; and employs them to bring in such, who have promised before-hand what to vote, and what to enact. thus to regulate candidates and electors, and new-model the ways of election, what is it but to cut up the government by the roots, and poison the very fountain of public security? for the people having reserved to themselves the choice of their representatives, as the fence to their properties, could do it for no other end, but that they might always be freely chosen, and so chosen, freely act, and advise, as the necessity of the commonwealth, and the public good should, upon examination, and mature debate, be judged to require. this, those who give their votes before they hear the debate, and have weighed the reasons on all sides, are not capable of doing. to prepare such an assembly as this, and endeavour to set up the declared abettors of his own will, for the true representatives of the people, and the law-makers of the society, is certainly as great a breach of trust, and as perfect a declaration of a design to subvert the government, as is possible to be met with. to which, if one shall add rewards and punishments visibly employed to the same end, and all the arts of perverted law made use of, to take off and destroy all that stand in the way of such a design, and will not comply and consent to betray the liberties of their country, it will be past doubt what is doing. what power they ought to have in the society, who thus employ it contrary to the trust went along with it in its first institution, is easy to determine; and one cannot but see, that he, who has once attempted any such thing as this, cannot any longer be trusted. sect. . to this perhaps it will be said, that the people being ignorant, and always discontented, to lay the foundation of government in the unsteady opinion and uncertain humour of the people, is to expose it to certain ruin; and no government will be able long to subsist, if the people may set up a new legislative, whenever they take offence at the old one. to this i answer, quite the contrary. people are not so easily got out of their old forms, as some are apt to suggest. they are hardly to be prevailed with to amend the acknowledged faults in the frame they have been accustomed to. and if there be any original defects, or adventitious ones introduced by time, or corruption; it is not an easy thing to get them changed, even when all the world sees there is an opportunity for it. this slowness and aversion in the people to quit their old constitutions, has, in the many revolutions which have been seen in this kingdom, in this and former ages, still kept us to, or, after some interval of fruitless attempts, still brought us back again to our old legislative of king, lords and commons: and whatever provocations have made the crown be taken from some of our princes heads, they never carried the people so far as to place it in another line. sect. . but it will be said, this hypothesis lays a ferment for frequent rebellion. to which i answer, first, no more than any other hypothesis: for when the people are made miserable, and find themselves exposed to the ill usage of arbitrary power, cry up their governors, as much as you will, for sons of jupiter; let them be sacred and divine, descended, or authorized from heaven; give them out for whom or what you please, the same will happen. the people generally ill treated, and contrary to right, will be ready upon any occasion to ease themselves of a burden that sits heavy upon them. they will wish, and seek for the opportunity, which in the change, weakness and accidents of human affairs, seldom delays long to offer itself. he must have lived but a little while in the world, who has not seen examples of this in his time; and he must have read very little, who cannot produce examples of it in all sorts of governments in the world. sect. . secondly, i answer, such revolutions happen not upon every little mismanagement in public affairs. great mistakes in the ruling part, many wrong and inconvenient laws, and all the slips of human frailty, will be born by the people without mutiny or murmur. but if a long train of abuses, prevarications and artifices, all tending the same way, make the design visible to the people, and they cannot but feel what they lie under, and see whither they are going; it is not to be wondered, that they should then rouze themselves, and endeavour to put the rule into such hands which may secure to them the ends for which government was at first erected; and without which, ancient names, and specious forms, are so far from being better, that they are much worse, than the state of nature, or pure anarchy; the inconveniencies being all as great and as near, but the remedy farther off and more difficult. sect. . thirdly, i answer, that this doctrine of a power in the people of providing for their safety a-new, by a new legislative, when their legislators have acted contrary to their trust, by invading their property, is the best fence against rebellion, and the probablest means to hinder it: for rebellion being an opposition, not to persons, but authority, which is founded only in the constitutions and laws of the government; those, whoever they be, who by force break through, and by force justify their violation of them, are truly and properly rebels: for when men, by entering into society and civil-government, have excluded force, and introduced laws for the preservation of property, peace, and unity amongst themselves, those who set up force again in opposition to the laws, do rebellare, that is, bring back again the state of war, and are properly rebels: which they who are in power, (by the pretence they have to authority, the temptation of force they have in their hands, and the flattery of those about them) being likeliest to do; the properest way to prevent the evil, is to shew them the danger and injustice of it, who are under the greatest temptation to run into it. sect. . in both the fore-mentioned cases, when either the legislative is changed, or the legislators act contrary to the end for which they were constituted; those who are guilty are guilty of rebellion: for if any one by force takes away the established legislative of any society, and the laws by them made, pursuant to their trust, he thereby takes away the umpirage, which every one had consented to, for a peaceable decision of all their controversies, and a bar to the state of war amongst them. they, who remove, or change the legislative, take away this decisive power, which no body can have, but by the appointment and consent of the people; and so destroying the authority which the people did, and no body else can set up, and introducing a power which the people hath not authorized, they actually introduce a state of war, which is that of force without authority: and thus, by removing the legislative established by the society, (in whose decisions the people acquiesced and united, as to that of their own will) they untie the knot, and expose the people a-new to the state of war, and if those, who by force take away the legislative, are rebels, the legislators themselves, as has been shewn, can be no less esteemed so; when they, who were set up for the protection, and preservation of the people, their liberties and properties, shall by force invade and endeavour to take them away; and so they putting themselves into a state of war with those who made them the protectors and guardians of their peace, are properly, and with the greatest aggravation, rebellantes, rebels. sect. . but if they, who say it lays a foundation for rebellion, mean that it may occasion civil wars, or intestine broils, to tell the people they are absolved from obedience when illegal attempts are made upon their liberties or properties, and may oppose the unlawful violence of those who were their magistrates, when they invade their properties contrary to the trust put in them; and that therefore this doctrine is not to be allowed, being so destructive to the peace of the world: they may as well say, upon the same ground, that honest men may not oppose robbers or pirates, because this may occasion disorder or bloodshed. if any mischief come in such cases, it is not to be charged upon him who defends his own right, but on him that invades his neighbours. if the innocent honest man must quietly quit all he has, for peace sake, to him who will lay violent hands upon it, i desire it may be considered, what a kind of peace there will be in the world, which consists only in violence and rapine; and which is to be maintained only for the benefit of robbers and oppressors. who would not think it an admirable peace betwix the mighty and the mean, when the lamb, without resistance, yielded his throat to be torn by the imperious wolf? polyphemus's den gives us a perfect pattern of such a peace, and such a government, wherein ulysses and his companions had nothing to do, but quietly to suffer themselves to be devoured. and no doubt ulysses, who was a prudent man, preached up passive obedience, and exhorted them to a quiet submission, by representing to them of what concernment peace was to mankind; and by shewing the inconveniences might happen, if they should offer to resist polyphemus, who had now the power over them. sect. . the end of government is the good of mankind; and which is best for mankind, that the people should be always exposed to the boundless will of tyranny, or that the rulers should be sometimes liable to be opposed, when they grow exorbitant in the use of their power, and employ it for the destruction, and not the preservation of the properties of their people? sect. . nor let any one say, that mischief can arise from hence, as often as it shall please a busy head, or turbulent spirit, to desire the alteration of the government. it is true, such men may stir, whenever they please; but it will be only to their own just ruin and perdition: for till the mischief be grown general, and the ill designs of the rulers become visible, or their attempts sensible to the greater part, the people, who are more disposed to suffer than right themselves by resistance, are not apt to stir. the examples of particular injustice, or oppression of here and there an unfortunate man, moves them not. but if they universally have a persuation, grounded upon manifest evidence, that designs are carrying on against their liberties, and the general course and tendency of things cannot but give them strong suspicions of the evil intention of their governors, who is to be blamed for it? who can help it, if they, who might avoid it, bring themselves into this suspicion? are the people to be blamed, if they have the sense of rational creatures, and can think of things no otherwise than as they find and feel them? and is it not rather their fault, who put things into such a posture, that they would not have them thought to be as they are? i grant, that the pride, ambition, and turbulency of private men have sometimes caused great disorders in commonwealths, and factions have been fatal to states and kingdoms. but whether the mischief hath oftener begun in the peoples wantonness, and a desire to cast off the lawful authority of their rulers, or in the rulers insolence, and endeavours to get and exercise an arbitrary power over their people; whether oppression, or disobedience, gave the first rise to the disorder, i leave it to impartial history to determine. this i am sure, whoever, either ruler or subject, by force goes about to invade the rights of either prince or people, and lays the foundation for overturning the constitution and frame of any just government, is highly guilty of the greatest crime, i think, a man is capable of, being to answer for all those mischiefs of blood, rapine, and desolation, which the breaking to pieces of governments bring on a country. and he who does it, is justly to be esteemed the common enemy and pest of mankind, and is to be treated accordingly. sect. . that subjects or foreigners, attempting by force on the properties of any people, may be resisted with force, is agreed on all hands. but that magistrates, doing the same thing, may be resisted, hath of late been denied: as if those who had the greatest privileges and advantages by the law, had thereby a power to break those laws, by which alone they were set in a better place than their brethren: whereas their offence is thereby the greater, both as being ungrateful for the greater share they have by the law, and breaking also that trust, which is put into their hands by their brethren. sect. . whosoever uses force without right, as every one does in society, who does it without law, puts himself into a state of war with those against whom he so uses it; and in that state all former ties are cancelled, all other rights cease, and every one has a right to defend himself, and to resist the aggressor. this is so evident, that barclay himself, that great assertor of the power and sacredness of kings, is forced to confess, that it is lawful for the people, in some cases, to resist their king; and that too in a chapter, wherein he pretends to shew, that the divine law shuts up the people from all manner of rebellion. whereby it is evident, even by his own doctrine, that, since they may in some cases resist, all resisting of princes is not rebellion. his words are these. quod siquis dicat, ergone populus tyrannicae crudelitati & furori jugulum semper praebebit? ergone multitude civitates suas fame, ferro, & flamma vastari, seque, conjuges, & liberos fortunae ludibrio & tyranni libidini exponi, inque omnia vitae pericula omnesque miserias & molestias a rege deduci patientur? num illis quod omni animantium generi est a natura tributum, denegari debet, ut sc. vim vi repellant, seseq; ab injuria, tueantur? huic breviter responsum sit, populo universo negari defensionem, quae juris naturalis est, neque ultionem quae praeter naturam est adversus regem concedi debere. quapropter si rex non in singulares tantum personas aliquot privatum odium exerceat, sed corpus etiam reipublicae, cujus ipse caput est, i.e. totum populum, vel insignem aliquam ejus partem immani & intoleranda saevitia seu tyrannide divexet; populo, quidem hoc casu resistendi ac tuendi se ab injuria potestas competit, sed tuendi se tantum, non enim in principem invadendi: & restituendae injuriae illatae, non recedendi a debita reverentia propter acceptam injuriam. praesentem denique impetum propulsandi non vim praeteritam ulciscenti jus habet. horum enim alterum a natura est, ut vitam scilicet corpusque tueamur. alterum vero contra naturam, ut inferior de superiori supplicium sumat. quod itaque populus malum, antequam factum sit, impedire potest, ne fiat, id postquam factum est, in regem authorem sceleris vindicare non potest: populus igitur hoc amplius quam privatus quispiam habet: quod huic, vel ipsis adversariis judicibus, excepto buchanano, nullum nisi in patientia remedium superest. cum ille si intolerabilis tyrannus est (modicum enim ferre omnino debet) resistere cum reverentia possit, barclay contra monarchom. . iii. c. . in english thus: sect. . but if any one should ask, must the people then always lay themselves open to the cruelty and rage of tyranny? must they see their cities pillaged, and laid in ashes, their wives and children exposed to the tyrant's lust and fury, and themselves and families reduced by their king to ruin, and all the miseries of want and oppression, and yet sit still? must men alone be debarred the common privilege of opposing force with force, which nature allows so freely to all other creatures for their preservation from injury? i answer: self-defence is a part of the law of nature; nor can it be denied the community, even against the king himself: but to revenge themselves upon him, must by no means be allowed them; it being not agreeable to that law. wherefore if the king shall shew an hatred, not only to some particular persons, but sets himself against the body of the commonwealth, whereof he is the head, and shall, with intolerable ill usage, cruelly tyrannize over the whole, or a considerable part of the people, in this case the people have a right to resist and defend themselves from injury: but it must be with this caution, that they only defend themselves, but do not attack their prince: they may repair the damages received, but must not for any provocation exceed the bounds of due reverence and respect. they may repulse the present attempt, but must not revenge past violences: for it is natural for us to defend life and limb, but that an inferior should punish a superior, is against nature. the mischief which is designed them, the people may prevent before it be done; but when it is done, they must not revenge it on the king, though author of the villany. this therefore is the privilege of the people in general, above what any private person hath; that particular men are allowed by our adversaries themselves (buchanan only excepted) to have no other remedy but patience; but the body of the people may with respect resist intolerable tyranny; for when it is but moderate, they ought to endure it. sect. . thus far that great advocate of monarchical power allows of resistance. sect. . it is true, he has annexed two limitations to it, to no purpose: first, he says, it must be with reverence. secondly, it must be without retribution, or punishment; and the reason he gives is, because an inferior cannot punish a superior. first, how to resist force without striking again, or how to strike with reverence, will need some skill to make intelligible. he that shall oppose an assault only with a shield to receive the blows, or in any more respectful posture, without a sword in his hand, to abate the confidence and force of the assailant, will quickly be at an end of his resistance, and will find such a defence serve only to draw on himself the worse usage. this is as ridiculous a way of resisting, as juvenal thought it of fighting; ubi tu pulsas, ego vapulo tantum. and the success of the combat will be unavoidably the same he there describes it: /*[ ] -----libertas pauperis haec est: pulsatus rogat, et pugnis concisus, adorat, ut liceat paucis cum dentibus inde reverti. */ this will always be the event of such an imaginary resistance, where men may not strike again. he therefore who may resist, must be allowed to strike. and then let our author, or any body else, join a knock on the head, or a cut on the face, with as much reverence and respect as he thinks fit. he that can reconcile blows and reverence, may, for aught i know, desire for his pains, a civil, respectful cudgeling where-ever he can meet with it. secondly, as to his second, an inferior cannot punish a superior; that is true, generally speaking, whilst he is his superior. but to resist force with force, being the state of war that levels the parties, cancels all former relation of reverence, respect, and superiority: and then the odds that remains, is, that he, who opposes the unjust agressor, has this superiority over him, that he has a right, when he prevails, to punish the offender, both for the breach of the peace, and all the evils that followed upon it. barclay therefore, in another place, more coherently to himself, denies it to be lawful to resist a king in any case. but he there assigns two cases, whereby a king may un-king himself. his words are, quid ergo, nulline casus incidere possunt quibus populo sese erigere atque in regem impotentius dominantem arma capere & invadere jure suo suaque authoritate liceat? nulli certe quamdiu rex manet. semper enim ex divinis id obstat, regem honorificato; & qui potestati resistit, dei ordinationi resisit: non alias igitur in eum populo potestas est quam si id committat propter quod ipso jure rex esse desinat. tunc enim se ipse principatu exuit atque in privatis constituit liber: hoc modo populus & superior efficitur, reverso ad eum sc. jure illo quod ante regem inauguratum in interregno habuit. at sunt paucorum generum commissa ejusmodi quae hunc effectum pariunt. at ego cum plurima animo perlustrem, duo tantum invenio, duos, inquam, casus quibus rex ipso facto ex rege non regem se facit & omni honore & dignitate regali atque in subditos potestate destituit; quorum etiam meminit winzerus. horum unus est, si regnum disperdat, quemadmodum de nerone fertur, quod is nempe senatum populumque romanum, atque adeo urbem ipsam ferro flammaque vastare, ac novas sibi sedes quaerere decrevisset. et de caligula, quod palam denunciarit se neque civem neque principem senatui amplius fore, inque animo habuerit interempto utriusque ordinis electissimo quoque alexandriam commigrare, ac ut populum uno ictu interimeret, unam ei cervicem optavit. talia cum rex aliquis meditator & molitur serio, omnem regnandi curam & animum ilico abjicit, ac proinde imperium in subditos amittit, ut dominus servi pro derelicto habiti dominium. sect. . alter casus est, si rex in alicujus clientelam se contulit, ac regnum quod liberum a majoribus & populo traditum accepit, alienae ditioni mancipavit. nam tunc quamvis forte non ea mente id agit populo plane ut incommodet: tamen quia quod praecipuum est regiae dignitatis amifit, ut summus scilicet in regno secundum deum sit, & solo deo inferior, atque populum etiam totum ignorantem vel invitum, cujus libertatem sartam & tectam conservare debuit, in alterius gentis ditionem & potestatem dedidit; hac velut quadam regni ab alienatione effecit, ut nec quod ipse in regno imperium habuit retineat, nec in eum cui collatum voluit, juris quicquam transferat; atque ita eo facto liberum jam & suae potestatis populum relinquit, cujus rei exemplum unum annales scotici suppeditant. barclay contra monarchom. . iii. c. . which in english runs thus: sect. . what then, can there no case happen wherein the people may of right, and by their own authority, help themselves, take arms, and set upon their king, imperiously domineering over them? none at all, whilst he remains a king. honour the king, and he that resists the power, resists the ordinance of god; are divine oracles that will never permit it, the people therefore can never come by a power over him, unless he does something that makes him cease to be a king: for then he divests himself of his crown and dignity, and returns to the state of a private man, and the people become free and superior, the power which they had in the interregnum, before they crowned him king, devolving to them again. but there are but few miscarriages which bring the matter to this state. after considering it well on all sides, i can find but two. two cases there are, i say, whereby a king, ipso facto, becomes no king, and loses all power and regal authority over his people; which are also taken notice of by winzerus. the first is, if he endeavour to overturn the government, that is, if he have a purpose and design to ruin the kingdom and commonwealth, as it is recorded of nero, that he resolved to cut off the senate and people of rome, lay the city waste with fire and sword, and then remove to some other place. and of caligula, that he openly declared, that he would be no longer a head to the people or senate, and that he had it in his thoughts to cut off the worthiest men of both ranks, and then retire to alexandria: and he wisht that the people had but one neck, that he might dispatch them all at a blow, such designs as these, when any king harbours in his thoughts, and seriously promotes, he immediately gives up all care and thought of the commonwealth; and consequently forfeits the power of governing his subjects, as a master does the dominion over his slaves whom he hath abandoned. sect. . the other case is, when a king makes himself the dependent of another, and subjects his kingdom which his ancestors left him, and the people put free into his hands, to the dominion of another: for however perhaps it may not be his intention to prejudice the people; yet because he has hereby lost the principal part of regal dignity, viz. to be next and immediately under god, supreme in his kingdom; and also because he betrayed or forced his people, whose liberty he ought to have carefully preserved, into the power and dominion of a foreign nation. by this, as it were, alienation of his kingdom, he himself loses the power he had in it before, without transferring any the least right to those on whom he would have bestowed it; and so by this act sets the people free, and leaves them at their own disposal. one example of this is to be found in the scotch annals. sect. . in these cases barclay, the great champion of absolute monarchy, is forced to allow, that a king may be resisted, and ceases to be a king. that is, in short, not to multiply cases, in whatsoever he has no authority, there he is no king, and may be resisted: for wheresoever the authority ceases, the king ceases too, and becomes like other men who have no authority. and these two cases he instances in, differ little from those above mentioned, to be destructive to governments, only that he has omitted the principle from which his doctrine flows: and that is, the breach of trust, in not preserving the form of government agreed on, and in not intending the end of government itself, which is the public good and preservation of property. when a king has dethroned himself, and put himself in a state of war with his people, what shall hinder them from prosecuting him who is no king, as they would any other man, who has put himself into a state of war with them, barclay, and those of his opinion, would do well to tell us. this farther i desire may be taken notice of out of barclay, that he says, the mischief that is designed them, the people may prevent before it be done: whereby he allows resistance when tyranny is but in design. such designs as these (says he) when any king harbours in his thoughts and seriously promotes, he immediately gives up all care and thought of the commonwealth; so that, according to him, the neglect of the public good is to be taken as an evidence of such design, or at least for a sufficient cause of resistance. and the reason of all, he gives in these words, because he betrayed or forced his people, whose liberty he ought carefully to have preserved. what he adds, into the power and dominion of a foreign nation, signifies nothing, the fault and forfeiture lying in the loss of their liberty, which he ought to have preserved, and not in any distinction of the persons to whose dominion they were subjected. the peoples right is equally invaded, and their liberty lost, whether they are made slaves to any of their own, or a foreign nation; and in this lies the injury, and against this only have they the right of defence. and there are instances to be found in all countries, which shew, that it is not the change of nations in the persons of their governors, but the change of government, that gives the offence. bilson, a bishop of our church, and a great stickler for the power and prerogative of princes, does, if i mistake not, in his treatise of christian subjection, acknowledge, that princes may forfeit their power, and their title to the obedience of their subjects; and if there needed authority in a case where reason is so plain, i could send my reader to bracton, fortescue, and the author of the mirrour, and others, writers that cannot be suspected to be ignorant of our government, or enemies to it. but i thought hooker alone might be enough to satisfy those men, who relying on him for their ecclesiastical polity, are by a strange fate carried to deny those principles upon which he builds it. whether they are herein made the tools of cunninger workmen, to pull down their own fabric, they were best look. this i am sure, their civil policy is so new, so dangerous, and so destructive to both rulers and people, that as former ages never could bear the broaching of it; so it may be hoped, those to come, redeemed from the impositions of these egyptian under-task-masters, will abhor the memory of such servile flatterers, who, whilst it seemed to serve their turn, resolved all government into absolute tyranny, and would have all men born to, what their mean souls fitted them for, slavery. sect. . here, it is like, the common question will be made, who shall be judge, whether the prince or legislative act contrary to their trust? this, perhaps, ill-affected and factious men may spread amongst the people, when the prince only makes use of his due prerogative. to this i reply, the people shall be judge; for who shall be judge whether his trustee or deputy acts well, and according to the trust reposed in him, but he who deputes him, and must, by having deputed him, have still a power to discard him, when he fails in his trust? if this be reasonable in particular cases of private men, why should it be otherwise in that of the greatest moment, where the welfare of millions is concerned, and also where the evil, if not prevented, is greater, and the redress very difficult, dear, and dangerous? sect. . but farther, this question, (who shall be judge?) cannot mean, that there is no judge at all: for where there is no judicature on earth, to decide controversies amongst men, god in heaven is judge. he alone, it is true, is judge of the right. but every man is judge for himself, as in all other cases, so in this, whether another hath put himself into a state of war with him, and whether he should appeal to the supreme judge, as jeptha did. sect. . if a controversy arise betwixt a prince and some of the people, in a matter where the law is silent, or doubtful, and the thing be of great consequence, i should think the proper umpire, in such a case, should be the body of the people: for in cases where the prince hath a trust reposed in him, and is dispensed from the common ordinary rules of the law; there, if any men find themselves aggrieved, and think the prince acts contrary to, or beyond that trust, who so proper to judge as the body of the people, (who, at first, lodged that trust in him) how far they meant it should extend? but if the prince, or whoever they be in the administration, decline that way of determination, the appeal then lies no where but to heaven; force between either persons, who have no known superior on earth, or which permits no appeal to a judge on earth, being properly a state of war, wherein the appeal lies only to heaven; and in that state the injured party must judge for himself, when he will think fit to make use of that appeal, and put himself upon it. sect. . to conclude, the power that every individual gave the society, when he entered into it, can never revert to the individuals again, as long as the society lasts, but will always remain in the community; because without this there can be no community, no commonwealth, which is contrary to the original agreement: so also when the society hath placed the legislative in any assembly of men, to continue in them and their successors, with direction and authority for providing such successors, the legislative can never revert to the people whilst that government lasts; because having provided a legislative with power to continue for ever, they have given up their political power to the legislative, and cannot resume it. but if they have set limits to the duration of their legislative, and made this supreme power in any person, or assembly, only temporary; or else, when by the miscarriages of those in authority, it is forfeited; upon the forfeiture, or at the determination of the time set, it reverts to the society, and the people have a right to act as supreme, and continue the legislative in themselves; or erect a new form, or under the old form place it in new hands, as they think good. finis. the declaration of the rights of man and of citizens _a contribution to modern constitutional history_ by georg jellinek, dr. phil. et jur. _professor of law in the university of heidelberg authorized translation from the german_ by max farrand, ph.d. _professor of history in wesleyan university_ _revised by the author_ [illustration] new york henry holt and company copyright, . by henry holt & co. robert drummond, printer, new york. translator's preface. although several years have elapsed since this essay was published, it has apparently come to the attention of only a few specialists, and those almost exclusively in modern european history. it deserves consideration by all students of history, and it is of special importance to those who are interested in the early constitutional history of the united states, for it traces the origin of the enactment of bills of rights. in the hope that it will be brought before a larger number of students who realize the significance of this question and who appreciate genuine scholarly work, this essay is now translated. m.f. wesleyan university, middletown, ct., _march , _. table of contents. chapter page i. the french declaration of rights of august , , and its significance ii. rousseau's "contrat social" was not the source of this declaration iii. the bills of rights of the individual states of the north american union were its models iv. virginia's bill of rights and those of the other north american states v. comparison of the french and american declarations vi. the contrast between the american and english declarations of rights vii. religious liberty in the anglo-american colonies the source of the idea of establishing by law a universal right of man viii. the creation of a system of rights of man and of citizens during the american revolution ix. the rights of man and the teutonic conception of right the declaration of the rights of man and of citizens. chapter i. the french declaration of rights of august , , and its significance. the declaration of "the rights of man and of citizens" by the french constituent assembly on august , , is one of the most significant events of the french revolution. it has been criticised from different points of view with directly opposing results. the political scientist and the historian, thoroughly appreciating its importance, have repeatedly come to the conclusion that the declaration had no small part in the anarchy with which france was visited soon after the storming of the bastille. they point to its abstract phrases as ambiguous and therefore dangerous, and as void of all political reality and practical statesmanship. its empty pathos, they say, confused the mind, disturbed calm judgment, aroused passions, and stifled the sense of duty,--for of duty there is not a word.[ ] others, on the contrary, and especially frenchmen, have exalted it as a revelation in the world's history, as a catechism of the "principles of " which form the eternal foundation of the state's structure, and they have glorified it as the most precious gift that france has given to mankind. less regarded than its historical and political significance is the importance of this document in the history of law, an importance which continues even to the present day. whatever may be the value or worthlessness of its general phrases, it is under the influence of this document that the conception of the public rights of the individual has developed in the positive law of the states of the european continent. until it appeared public law literature recognized the rights of heads of states, the privileges of class, and the privileges of individuals or special corporations, but the general rights of subjects were to be found essentially only in the form of duties on the part of the state, not in the form of definite legal claims of the individual. the declaration of the rights of man for the first time originated in all its vigor in positive law the conception, which until then had been known only to natural law, of the personal rights of the members of the state over against the state as a whole. this was next seen in the first french constitution of september , , which set forth, upon the basis of a preceding declaration of rights, a list of _droits naturels et civils_ as rights that were guaranteed by the constitution.[ ] together with the right of suffrage, the "_droits garantis par la constitution_", which were enumerated for the last time in the constitution of november , ,[ ] form to-day the basis of french theory and practice respecting the personal public rights of the individual.[ ] and under the influence of the french declaration there have been introduced into almost all of the constitutions of the other continental states similar enumerations of rights, whose separate phrases and formulas, however, are more or less adapted to the particular conditions of their respective states, and therefore frequently exhibit wide differences in content. in germany most of the constitutions of the period prior to contained a section upon the rights of subjects, and in the year the national constitutional convention at frankfort adopted "the fundamental rights of the german people", which were published on december , , as federal law. in spite of a resolution of the _bund_ of august , , declaring these rights null and void, they are of lasting importance, because many of their specifications are to-day incorporated almost word for word in the existing federal law.[ ] these enumerations of rights appear in greater numbers in the european constitutions of the period after . thus, first of all, in the prussian constitution of january , , and in austria's "fundamental law of the state" of december , , on the general rights of the state's citizens. and more recently they have been incorporated in the constitutions of the new states in the balkan peninsula. a noteworthy exception to this are the constitutions of the north german confederation of july , , and of the german empire of april , , which lack entirely any paragraph on fundamental rights. the constitution of the empire, however, could the better dispense with such a declaration as it was already contained in most of the constitutions of the individual states, and, as above stated, a series of federal laws has enacted the most important principles of the frankfort fundamental rights. besides, with the provisions of the federal constitution as to amendments, it was not necessary to make any special place for them in that instrument, as the reichstag, to whose especial care the guardianship of the fundamental rights must be entrusted, has no difficult forms to observe in amending the constitution.[ ] as a matter of fact the public rights of the individual are much greater in the german empire than in most of the states where the fundamental rights are specifically set forth in the constitution. this may be seen, for example, by a glance at the legislation and the judicial and administrative practice in austria. but whatever may be one's opinion to-day upon the formulation of abstract principles, which only become vitalized through the process of detailed legislation, as affecting the legal position of the individual in the state, the fact that the recognition of such principles is historically bound up with that first declaration of rights makes it an important task of constitutional history to ascertain the origin of the french declaration of rights of . the achievement of this task is of great importance both in explaining the development of the modern state and in understanding the position which this state assures to the individual. thus far in the works on public law various precursors of the declaration of the constituent assembly, from magna charta to the american declaration of independence, have been enumerated and arranged in regular sequence, yet any thorough investigation of the sources from which the french drew is not to be found. it is the prevailing opinion that the teachings of the _contrat social_ gave the impulse to the declaration, and that its prototype was the declaration of independence of the thirteen united states of north america. let us first of all inquire into the correctness of these assumptions. footnotes: [footnote : first of all, as is well known, burke and bentham, and later taine, _les origines de la france contemporaine: la révolution_, i, pp. _et seq._; oncken, _das zeitalter der revolution, des kaiserreiches und der befreiungskriege_, i, pp. _et seq._; and weiss, _geschichte der französischen revolution_, , i, p. .] [footnote : titre premier: "dispositions fondamentales garanties par la constitution."] [footnote : hélie, _les constitutions de la france_, pp. _et seq._] [footnote : _cf._ jellinek, _system der subjektiven öffentlichen rechte_, p. , n. .] [footnote : binding, _der versuch der reichsgründung durch die paulskirche_, leipzig, , p. .] [footnote : when considering the constitution, the reichstag rejected all proposals which aimed to introduce fundamental rights. _cf._ bezold, _materialen der deutschen reichsverfassung_, iii, pp. - .] chapter ii. rousseau's _contrat social_ was not the source of this declaration. in his _history of political science_--the most comprehensive work of that kind which france possesses--paul janet, after a thorough presentation of the _contrat social_, discusses the influence which this work of rousseau's exercised upon the revolution. the idea of the declaration of rights is to be traced back to rousseau's teachings. what else is the declaration itself than the formulation of the state contract according to rousseau's ideas? and what are the several rights but the stipulations and specifications of that contract?[ ] it is hard to understand how an authority upon the _contrat social_ could make such a statement though in accord with popular opinion. the social contract has only one stipulation, namely, the complete transference to the community of all the individual's rights.[ ] the individual does not retain one particle of his rights from the moment he enters the state.[ ] everything that he receives of the nature of right he gets from the _volonté générale_, which is the sole judge of its own limits, and ought not to be, and cannot be, restricted by the law of any power. even property belongs to the individual only by virtue of state concession. the social contract makes the state the master of the goods of its members,[ ] and the latter remain in possession only as the trustees of public property.[ ] civil liberty consists simply of what is left to the individual after taking his duties as a citizen into account.[ ] these duties can only be imposed by law, and according to the social contract the laws must be the same for all citizens. this is the only restriction upon the sovereign power,[ ] but it is a restriction which follows from the very nature of that power, and it carries in itself its own guarantees.[ ] the conception of an original right, which man brings with him into society and which appears as a restriction upon the rights of the sovereign, is specifically rejected by rousseau. there is no fundamental law which can be binding upon the whole people, not even the social contract itself.[ ] the declaration of rights, however, would draw dividing lines between the state and the individual, which the lawmaker should ever keep before his eyes as the limits that have been set him once and for all by "the natural, inalienable and sacred rights of man."[ ] the principles of the _contrat social_ are accordingly at enmity with every declaration of rights. for from these principles there ensues not the right of the individual, but the omnipotence of the common will, unrestricted by law. taine comprehended better than janet the consequences of the _contrat social_.[ ] the declaration of august , , originated in opposition to the _contrat social_. the ideas of the latter work exercised, indeed, a certain influence upon the style of some clauses of the declaration, but the conception of the declaration itself must have come from some other source. footnotes: [footnote : "est-il nécessaire de prouver, qu'un tel acte ne vient point de montesquieu, mais de j.-j. rousseau?... mais l'acte même de la déclaration est-il autre chose que le contrat passé entre tous les membres de la communauté, selon les idées de rousseau? n'est ce pas l'énonciation des clauses et des conditions de ce contrat?"--_histoire de la science politique, me éd._, pp. , .] [footnote : "ces clauses, bien entendues, se réduisent toutes à une seule: savoir l'aliénation totale de chaque associé avec tous ses droits à toute la communauté."--_du contrat social_, i, .] [footnote : "de plus, l'aliénation se faisant sans réserve, l'union est aussi parfaite qu'elle peut l'être et nul associé n'a plus rien à réclamer." i, .] [footnote : "car l'État, à l'égard de ses membres, est maître de tous leurs biens par le contrat social." i, .] [footnote : "... les possesseurs étant considérés comme dépositaires du bien public." i, .] [footnote : "on convient que tout ce que chacun aliène, par le pacte social, de sa puissance, de ses biens, de sa liberté, c'est seulement la partie de tout cela dont l'usage importe à la communauté; mais il faut convenir aussi que le souverain seul est juge de cette importance." ii, .] [footnote : "ainsi, par la nature du pacte, tout acte de souveraineté, c'est-à-dire toute acte authentique de la volonté générale, oblige ou favorise également tous les citoyens." ii, .] [footnote : "la puissance souverain n'a nul besoin de garant envers les sujets." i, .] [footnote : "il est contre la nature du corps politique que le souverain s'impose une loi qu'il ne puisse enfreindre ... il n'y a ni ne peut y avoir nulle espèce de loi fundamentale obligatoire pour le corps du peuple, pas même le contrat social." i, .] [footnote : constitution du septembre , titre premier: "le pouvoir législatif ne pourra faire aucune loi qui porte atteinte et mette obstacle à l'exercise de droits naturels et civils consignés dans le présent titre, et garantis par la constitution."] [footnote : _cf._ taine, _loc. cit._: _l'ancien régime_, pp. _et seq._] chapter iii. the bills of rights of the individual states of the north american union were its models. the conception of a declaration of rights had found expression in france even before the assembling of the states general. it had already appeared in a number of _cahiers_. the _cahier_ of the _bailliage_ of nemours is well worth noting, as it contained a chapter entitled "on the necessity of a declaration of the rights of man and of citizens",[ ] and sketched a plan of such a declaration with thirty articles. among other plans that in the _cahier des tiers état_ of the city of paris has some interest.[ ] in the national assembly, however, it was lafayette who on july , , made the motion to enact a declaration of rights in connection with the constitution, and he therewith laid before the assembly a plan of such a declaration.[ ] it is the prevailing opinion that lafayette was inspired to make this motion by the north american declaration of independence.[ ] and this instrument is further declared to have been the model that the constituent assembly had in mind in framing its declaration. the sharp, pointed style and the practical character of the american document are cited by many as in praiseworthy contrast to the confusing verbosity and dogmatic theory of the french declaration.[ ] others bring forward, as a more fitting object of comparison, the first amendments to the constitution of the united states,[ ] and even imagine that the latter exerted some influence upon the french declaration, in spite of the fact that they did not come into existence until after august , . this error has arisen from the french declaration of having been embodied word for word in the constitution of september , , and so to one not familiar with french constitutional history, and before whom only the texts of the constitutions themselves are lying, it seems to bear a later date. by practically all those, however, who look further back than the french declaration it is asserted that the declaration of independence of the united states on july , , contains the first exposition of a series of rights of man.[ ] yet the american declaration of independence contains only a single paragraph that resembles a declaration of rights. it reads as follows: "we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness; that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed; that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness." this sentence is so general in its content that it is difficult to read into it, or deduct from it, a whole system of rights. it is therefore, at the very start, improbable that it served as the model for the french declaration. this conjecture becomes a certainty through lafayette's own statement. in a place in his _memoirs_, that has as yet been completely overlooked, lafayette mentions the model that he had in mind when making his motion in the constituent assembly.[ ] he very pertinently points out that the congress of the newly formed confederation of north american free states was then in no position to set up, for the separate colonies, which had already become sovereign states, rules of right which would have binding force. he brings out the fact that in the declaration of independence there are asserted only the principles of the sovereignty of the people and the right to change the form of government. other rights are included solely by implication from the enumeration of the violations of right, which justified the separation from the mother country. the constitutions of the separate states, however, were preceded by declarations of rights, which were binding upon the people's representatives. _the first state to set forth a declaration of rights properly so called was virginia._[ ] the declarations of virginia and of the other individual american states were the sources of lafayette's proposition. they influenced not only lafayette, but all who sought to bring about a declaration of rights. even the above-mentioned _cahiers_ were affected by them. the new constitutions of the separate american states were well known at that time in france. as early as a french translation of them, dedicated to franklin, had appeared in switzerland.[ ] another was published in at benjamin franklin's own instigation.[ ] their influence upon the constitutional legislation of the french revolution is by no means sufficiently recognized. in europe until quite recently only the federal constitution was known, not the constitutions of the individual states, which are assuming a very prominent place in modern constitutional history. this must be evident from the fact, which is even yet unrecognized by some distinguished historians and teachers of public law, that the individual american states had the first written constitutions. in england and france the importance of the american state constitutions has begun to be appreciated,[ ] but in germany they have remained as yet almost unnoticed. for a long time, to be sure, the text of the older constitutions in their entirety were only with difficulty accessible in europe. but through the edition, prepared by order of the united states senate,[ ] containing all the american constitutions since the very earliest period, one is now in a position to become acquainted with these exceptionally important documents. the french declaration of rights is for the most part copied from the american declarations or "bills of rights".[ ] all drafts of the french declaration, from those of the _cahiers_ to the twenty-one proposals before the national assembly, vary more or less from the original, either in conciseness or in breadth, in cleverness or in awkwardness of expression. but so far as substantial additions are concerned they present only doctrinaire statements of a purely theoretical nature or elaborations, which belong to the realm of political metaphysics. to enter upon them here is unnecessary. let us confine ourselves to the completed work, the declaration as it was finally determined after long debate in the sessions from the twentieth to the twenty-sixth of august.[ ] footnotes: [footnote : "de la nécessité d'établir quels sont les droits de l'homme et des citoyens, et d'en faire une déclaration qu'ils puissent opposer à toutes les espèces d'injustice."--_archives parlementaires i. série_, iv, pp. _et seq._] [footnote : _archives parl._, v, pp. _et seq._] [footnote : _arch. parl._, viii, pp. , .] [footnote : _cf. e.g._ h. v. sybel, _geschichte der revolutionszeit von bis , . aufl._, i, p. .] [footnote : _cf._ häusser, _geschichte der franz. revolution, . aufl._, p. ; h. schulze, _lehrbuch des deutschen staatsrechts_, i, p. ; stahl, _staatslehre, . aufl._, p. ; taine, _loc. cit._: _la révolution_, i, p. : "ici rien de semblable aux déclarations précises de la constitution américaine." in addition, note : _cf. la déclaration d'indépendance du juillet _.] [footnote : stahl, _loc. cit._, p. ; taine, _loc. cit._ the fact that jefferson's proposal to enact a declaration of rights was rejected is expressly emphasized in a note.] [footnote : stahl, _loc. cit._, p. , does mention, in addition, the declarations of the separate states, but he does not specify when they originated, nor in what relation they stand to the french declaration, and his comments show that he is not at all familiar with them. janet, _loc. cit._, i, p. v _et seq._, enters at length into the subject of the state declarations in order to show the originality of the french, and he even makes the mistaken attempt to prove french influence upon the american (p. xxxv). the more detailed history of the american declarations he is quite ignorant of.] [footnote : _mémoires, correspondances et manuscripts du général lafayette, publiés par sa famille_, ii, p. .] [footnote : "mais les constitutions que se donnèrent successivement les treize états, furent précedées de déclarations des droits, dont les principes devaient servir de règles aux représentans du peuple, soit aux conventions, soit dans les autres exercises de leur pouvoirs. la virginie fut la première à produire une déclaration des droits proprement dite."--_ibid._, p. .] [footnote : _recueil des loix constitutives des colonies anglaises, confédérées sous la dénomination d'États-unis de l'amérique-septentrionale. dédié à m. le docteur franklin. en suisse, chez les libraires associés._] [footnote : _cf._ ch. borgeaud, _Établissement et revision des constitutions en amérique et en europe_, paris, , p. .] [footnote : especially the exceptional work of james bryce, _the american commonwealth_, vol i, part ii., the state governments; boutmy, _Études de droit constitutionnel, me éd._, paris, , pp. _et seq._; and borgeaud, _loc. cit._, pp. _et seq._] [footnote : _the federal and state constitutions, colonial charters, and other organic laws of the united states._ compiled by ben: perley poore. two vols., washington, . only the most important documents of the colonial period are included.] [footnote : this is not quite clear even to the best french authority on american history, laboulaye, as is evident from his treatment of the subject, _histoire des États-unis_, ii, p. .] [footnote : _cf. arch. parl._, viii, pp. - .] chapter iv. virginia's bill of rights and those of the other north american states. the congress of the colonies, which were already resolved upon separation from the mother country, while sitting in philadelphia issued on may , , an appeal to its constituents to give themselves constitutions. of the thirteen states that originally made up the union, eleven had responded to this appeal before the outbreak of the french revolution. two retained the colonial charters that had been granted them by the english crown, and invested these documents with the character of constitutions, namely, connecticut the charter of , and rhode island that of , so that these charters are the oldest written constitutions in the modern sense.[ ] of the other states virginia was the first to enact a constitution in the convention which met at williamsburg from may to june , . it was prefaced with a formal "bill of rights",[ ] which had been adopted by the convention on the twelfth of june. the author of this document was george mason, although madison exercised a decided influence upon the form that was finally adopted.[ ] this declaration of virginia's served as a pattern for all the others, even for that of the congress of the united states, which was issued three weeks later, and, as is well known, was drawn up by jefferson, a citizen of virginia. in the other declarations there were many stipulations formulated somewhat differently, and also many new particulars were added.[ ] express declarations of rights had been formulated after virginia's before in the constitutions of pennsylvania of september , , maryland of november , , north carolina of december , , vermont of july , ,[ ] massachusetts of march , , new hampshire of october , , (in force june , .) in the oldest constitutions of new jersey, south carolina, new york and georgia special bills of rights are wanting, although they contain many provisions which belong in that category.[ ] the french translation of the american constitutions of includes a _déclaration expositive des droits_ by delaware that is lacking in poore's collection.[ ] in the following section the separate articles of the french declaration are placed in comparison with the corresponding articles from the american declarations. among the latter, however, i have sought out only those that most nearly approach the form of expression in the french text. but it must be once more strongly emphasized that the fundamental ideas of the american declarations generally duplicate each other, so that the same stipulation reappears in different form in the greater number of the bills of rights. we shall leave out the introduction with which the constituent assembly prefaced its declaration, and begin at once with the enumeration of the rights themselves. but even the introduction, in which the national assembly "_en présence et sous les auspices de l'Être supréme_" solemnly proclaims the recognition and declaration of the rights of man and of citizens, and also sets forth the significance of the same, is inspired by the declaration of congress and by those of many of the individual states with which the americans sought to justify their separation from the mother country. footnotes: [footnote : connecticut in , and rhode island first in , put new constitutions in the place of the old colonial charters.] [footnote : poore, ii, pp. , .] [footnote : on the origin of virginia's bill of rights, _cf._ bancroft, _history of the united states_, london, , vii, chap. .] [footnote : virginia's declaration has , that of massachusetts , and maryland's articles. virginia's declaration does not include the right of emigration, which was first enacted in article xv of pennsylvania's; the rights of assembling and petition are also lacking, which were first found in the pennsylvania bill of rights (article xvi).] [footnote : vermont's statehood was contested until , and it was first recognized february , , as an independent member of the united states.] [footnote : religious liberty is recognized by new york in an especially emphatic manner, constitution of april , , art. xxxviii. poore, ii, p. .] [footnote : pp. _et seq._ (the translator has reprinted this declaration in an article in the _american historical review_, of july, , entitled "the delaware bill of rights of ".)] chapter v. comparison of the french and american declarations. art. . _les hommes naissent et demeurent libres et égaux en droits. les distinctions sociales ne peuvent être fondées que sur l'utilité commune._ . _le but de toute association politique est la conservation des droits naturels et imprescriptibles de l'homme. ces droits sont la liberté, la propriété, la sûreté et la résistance à l'oppression._ virginia, i. that all men are by nature equally free and independent, and have certain inherent rights, of which, when they enter into a state of society, they cannot, by any compact, deprive or divest their posterity; namely, the enjoyment of life and liberty, with the means of acquiring and possessing property, and pursuing and obtaining happiness and safety. virginia, iv. that no man, or set of men, are entitled to exclusive or separate emoluments or privileges from the community, but in consideration of public services. massachusetts, preamble to the constitution. the end of the institution, maintenance, and administration of government is to secure the existence of the body-politic, to protect it, and to furnish the individuals who compose it with the power of enjoying, in safety and tranquillity, their natural rights and the blessings of life. maryland, iv. the doctrine of non-resistance, against arbitrary power and oppression, is absurd, slavish and destructive of the good and happiness of mankind. . _le principe de toute souveraineté réside essentiellement dans la nation. nul corps, nul individu ne peut exercer d'autorité qui n'en émane expréssement._ virginia, ii. that all power is vested in, and consequently derived from, the people; that magistrates are their trustees and servants, and at all times amenable to them. . _la liberté consiste à pouvoir faire tout ce qui ne nuit pas à autrui; aussi l'exercise des droits naturels de chaque homme n'a de bornes que celles qui assurent aux autres membres de la société la jouissance de ces mêmes droits. ces bornes ne peuvent être déterminées que par la loi._ massachusetts, preamble. the body-politic is formed by a voluntary association of individuals; it is a social compact by which the whole people covenants with each citizen and each citizen with the whole people that all shall be governed by certain laws for the common good. massachusetts, x. each individual of the society has a right to be protected by it in the enjoyment of his life, liberty, and property, according to standing laws. . _la loi n'a le droit de défendre que les actions nuisibles à la société. tout ce qui n'est pas défendu par la loi ne peut être empêché et nul ne peut être contraint à faire ce qu'elle n'ordonne pas._ massachusetts, xi. every subject of the commonwealth ought to find a certain remedy, by having recourse to the laws, for all injuries or wrongs which he may receive in his person, property, or character. north carolina, xiii. that every freeman, restrained of his liberty, is entitled to a remedy, to inquire into the lawfulness thereof, and to remove the same, if unlawful; and that such remedy ought not to be denied or delayed. virginia, vii. that all power of suspending laws, or the execution of laws, by any authority, without consent of the representatives of the people, is injurious to their rights, and ought not to be exercised.[ ] . _la loi est l'expression de la volonté générale. tous les citoyens ont le droit de concourir personnellement ou par leurs représentants à sa formation. elle doit être la même pour tous, soit qu'elle protège, soit qu'elle punisse. tous les citoyens étant égaux à ses yeux, sont également admissibles à toutes dignités, places et emplois publics, selon leur capacité, et sans autre distinction que celle de leurs vertus et leurs talents._ maryland, v. that the right in the people to participate in the legislature, is the best security of liberty, and the foundation of all free government. massachusetts, ix. all elections ought to be free;[ ] and all the inhabitants of this commonwealth, having such qualifications as they shall establish by their frame of government, have an equal right to elect officers, and to be elected, for public employments. new hampshire, xii. nor are the inhabitants of this state controllable by any other laws than those to which they or their representative body have given their consent. . _nul homme ne peut être accusé, arrêté, ni détenu que dans les cas déterminés par la loi et selon les formes qu'elle a prescrites. ceux qui sollicitent, expédient, exécutent ou font exécuter des ordres arbitraires, doivent être punis; mais tout citoyen appelé ou saisi en vertu de la loi doit obéir à l'instant; il se rend coupable par sa résistance._ massachusetts, xii. no subject shall be held to answer for any crimes or no offence until the same is fully and plainly, substantially and formally, described to him; or be compelled to accuse, or furnish evidence against himself; and every subject shall have a right to produce all proofs that may be favorable to him; to meet the witnesses against him face to face, and to be fully heard in his defence by himself, or his counsel at his election. and no subject shall be arrested, imprisoned, despoiled, or deprived of his property, immunities, or privileges, put out of the protection of the law, exiled or deprived of his life, liberty, or estate, but by the judgment of his peers, or the law of the land.[ ] virginia, x. that general warrants, whereby an officer or messenger may be commanded to search suspected places without evidence of a fact committed, or to seize any person or persons not named, or whose offence is not particularly described and supported by evidence, are grievous and oppressive, and ought not to be granted. . _la loi ne doit établir que des peines strictement nécessaires et nul ne peut être puni qu'en vertu d'une loi établie et promulguée antérieurement au délit et légalement appliquée._ new hampshire, xviii. all penalties ought to be proportioned to the nature of the offence.[ ] maryland, xiv. that sanguinary laws ought to be avoided, as far as is consistent with the safety of the state; and no law, to inflict cruel and unusual pains and penalties, ought to be made in any case, or at any time hereafter.[ ] maryland, xv. that retrospective laws, punishing facts committed before the existence of such laws, and by them only declared criminal, are oppressive, unjust, and incompatible with liberty; wherefore no _ex post facto_ law ought to be made. . _tout homme étant présumé innocent jusqu' à ce qu'il ait été déclaré coupable, s'il est jugé indispensable de l'arrêter, toute rigueur qui ne serait pas nécessaire pour s'assurer de sa personne doit être sévèrement réprimée par la loi._ _cf._ above, massachusetts, xii; further massachusetts, xiv. every subject has a right to be secure from all unreasonable searches and seizures of his person, his houses, his papers, and all his possessions. massachusetts, xxvi. no magistrate or court of law shall demand excessive bail or sureties, impose excessive fines[ ] ... . _nul doit être inquiété pour ses opinions, même religieuses, pourvu que leur manifestation ne trouble pas l'ordre public établi par la loi._ new hampshire, v. every individual has a natural and unalienable right to worship god according to the dictates of his own conscience, and reason; and no subject shall be hurt, molested or restrained in his person, liberty or estate for worshipping god, in the manner and season most agreeable to the dictates of his own conscience, or for his religious profession, sentiments or persuasion; provided he doth not disturb the public peace, or disturb others, in their religious worship. . _la libre communication des pensées et des opinions est un des droits les plus précieux de l'homme; tout citoyen peut donc parler, écrire, imprimer librement sauf à répondre de l'abus de cette liberté dans les cas determinés par la loi._ virginia, xii. that the freedom of the press is one of the great bulwarks of liberty, and can never be restrained but by despotic governments. pennsylvania, xii. that the people have a right to freedom of speech, and of writing, and publishing their sentiments. . _la garantie des droits de l'homme et du citoyen nécessité une force publique. cette force est donc instituée pour l'avantage de tous, et non pour l'utilité particulière de ceux auxquels elle est confiée._ pennsylvania, v. that government is, or ought to be, instituted for the common benefit, protection and security of the people, nation or community; and not for the particular emolument or advantage of any single man, family, or sett of men, who are a part only of that community. . _pour l'entretien de la force publique et pour les dépenses d'administration, une contribution commune est indispensable; elle doit être également répartie entre tous les citoyens en raison de leurs facultés._ massachusetts, x. each individual of the society has a right to be protected by it in the enjoyment of his life, liberty, and property, according to standing laws. he is obliged, consequently, to contribute his share to the expense of this protection; to give his personal service, or an equivalent, when necessary. . _tous les citoyens ont le droit de constater, par eux mêmes ou par leur représentants, la nécessité de la contribution publique, de la consentir librement, d'en suivre l'emploi, et d'en déterminer la qualité, l'assiette, le recouvrement et la durée._ massachusetts, xxiii. no subsidy, charge, tax, impost, or duties, ought to be established, fixed, laid or levied, under any pretext whatsoever, without the consent of the people, or their representatives in the legislature. . _la société a le droit de demander compte à tout agent public de son administration._ see above, virginia, ii; further massachusetts v. all power residing originally in the people, and being derived from them, the several magistrates and officers of government vested with authority, whether legislative, executive, or judicial, are the substitutes and agents, and are at all times accountable to them. . _toute société, dans laquelle la garantie des droits n'est pas assurée, ni la séparation des pouvoirs déterminée, n'a point de constitution._ new hampshire, iii. when men enter into a state of society, they surrender up some of their natural rights to that society, in order to insure the protection of others; and without such an equivalent, the surrender is void. massachusetts, xxx. in the government of this commonwealth, the legislative department shall never exercise the executive and judicial powers, or either of them; the executive shall never exercise the legislative and judicial powers, or either of them; the judicial shall never exercise the legislative and executive powers, or either of them; to the end it may be a government of laws, and not of men. . _la propriété étant un droit inviolable et sacré, nul ne peut en être privé, si ce n'est lors que la nécessité publique, légalement constatée, l'exige évidemment, et sous la condition d'une juste et préalable indemnité._ massachusetts, x. ... but no part of the property of any individual can, with justice, be taken from him, or applied to public uses, without his own consent, or that of the representative body of the people.... and whenever the public exigencies require that the property of any individual should be appropriated to public uses, he shall receive a reasonable compensation therefor. vermont, ii. that private property ought to be subservient to public uses, when necessity requires it; nevertheless, whenever any particular man's property is taken for the use of the public, the owner ought to receive an equivalent in money. footnotes: [footnote : _cf._ english bill of rights, .] [footnote : english bill of rights, .] [footnote : magna charta, .] [footnote : magna charta, .] [footnote : english bill of rights, .] [footnote : english bill of rights, .] chapter vi. the contrast between the american and english declarations of rights. the comparison of the american and french declarations shows at once that the setting forth of principles abstract, and therefore ambiguous, is common to both, as is also the pathos with which they are recited. the french have not only adopted the american ideas, but even the form they received on the other side of the ocean. but in contrast to the diffuseness of the americans the french are distinguished by a brevity characteristic of their language. articles - of the declaration have the most specific french additions in the superfluous and meaningless definitions of liberty[ ] and law. further, in articles , and of the french text special stress is laid upon equality before the law, while to the americans, because of their social conditions and democratic institutions, this seemed self-evident and so by them is only brought out incidentally. in the french articles the influence of the _contrat social_ will have been recognized; but yet it brought out nothing essentially new, or unknown to the american stipulations. the result that has been won is not without significance for the student of history in passing judgment upon the effects of the french declaration. the american states have developed with their bills of rights into orderly commonwealths in which there has never been any complaint that these propositions brought consequences disintegrating to the state. the disorders which arose in france after the declaration of the rights of man cannot therefore have been brought about by its formulas alone. much rather do they show what dangers may lie in the too hasty adoption of foreign institutions. that is, the americans in went on building upon foundations that were with them long-standing. the french, on the other hand, tore up all the foundations of their state's structure. what was in the one case a factor in the process of consolidation served in the other as a cause of further disturbance. this was even recognized at the time by sharp-sighted men, such as lally-tollendal[ ] and, above all, mirabeau.[ ] but from the consideration of the american bills of rights there arises a new problem for the historian of law: how did americans come to make legislative declarations of this sort? to the superficial observer the answer seems simple. the very name points to english sources. the bill of rights of , the habeas corpus act of , the petition of right of , and finally the _magna charta libertatum_ appear to be unquestionably the predecessors of the virginia bill of rights. assuredly the remembrance of these celebrated english enactments, which the americans regarded as an inherent part of the law of their land, had a substantial share in the declarations of rights after . many stipulations from magna charta and the english bill of rights were directly embodied by the americans in their lists. and yet a deep cleft separates the american declarations from the english enactments that have been mentioned. the historian of the american revolution says of the virginia declaration that it protested against all tyranny in the name of the eternal laws of man's being: "the english petition of right in was historic and retrospective; the virginia declaration came directly out of the heart of nature and announced governing principles for all peoples in all future times."[ ] the english laws that establish the rights of subjects are collectively and individually confirmations, arising out of special conditions, or interpretations of existing law. even magna charta contains no new right, as sir edward coke, the great authority on english law, perceived as early as the beginning of the seventeenth century.[ ] the english statutes are far removed from any purpose to recognize general rights of man, and they have neither the power nor the intention to restrict the legislative agents or to establish principles for future legislation. according to english law parliament is omnipotent and all statutes enacted or confirmed by it are of equal value. the american declarations, on the other hand, contain precepts which stand higher than the ordinary lawmaker. in the union, as well as in the individual states, there are separate organs for ordinary and for constitutional legislation, and the judge watches over the observance of the constitutional limitations by the ordinary legislative power. if in his judgment a law infringes on the fundamental rights, he must forbid its enforcement. the declarations of rights even at the present day are interpreted by the americans as practical protections of the minority.[ ] this distinguishes them from the "guaranteed rights" of the european states. the american declarations are not laws of a higher kind in name only, they are the creations of a higher lawmaker. in europe, it is true, the constitutions place formal difficulties in the way of changing their specifications, but almost everywhere it is the lawmaker himself who decides upon the change. even in the swiss confederacy judicial control over the observance of these forms is nowhere to be found, although there, as in the united states, the constitutional laws proceed from other organs than those of the ordinary statutes. the american bills of rights do not attempt merely to set forth certain principles for the state's organization, but they seek above all to draw the boundary line between state and individual. according to them the individual is not the possessor of rights through the state, but by his own nature he has inalienable and indefeasible rights. the english laws know nothing of this. they do not wish to recognize an eternal, natural right, but one inherited from their fathers, "the old, undoubted rights of the english people." the english conception of the rights of the subject is very clear upon this point. when one looks through the bill of rights carefully, one finds but slight mention there of individual rights. that laws should not be suspended, that there should be no dispensation from them, that special courts should not be erected, that cruel punishments should not be inflicted, that jurors ought to be duly impanelled and returned, that taxes should not be levied without a law, nor a standing army kept without consent of parliament, that parliamentary elections should be free, and parliament be held frequently--all these are not rights of the individual, but duties of the government. of the thirteen articles of the bill of rights only two contain stipulations that are expressed in the form of rights of the subject,[ ] while one refers to freedom of speech in parliament. when nevertheless all the stipulations of the bill of rights are therein designated as rights and liberties of the english people,[ ] it is through the belief that restriction of the crown is at the same time right of the people. this view grew directly out of the mediæval conception of the teutonic state. while the ancient state appears at the beginning of its history as [greek: polis] or _civitas_, as an undivided community of citizens, the monarchical teutonic state is from the beginning dualistic in form,--prince and people form no integral unity, but stand opposed to each other as independent factors. and so the state in the conception of the time is substantially a relation of contract between the two. the roman and canonical theory of law under the influence of ancient traditions even as early as the eleventh century attempts to unite the two elements in that, upon the basis of a contract, it either makes the people part with their rights to the prince, and accordingly makes the government the state, or it considers the prince simply as the authorized agent of the people and so makes the latter and the state identical. the prevailing opinion in public law, however, especially since the rise of the state of estates, sees in the state a double condition of contract between prince and people. the laws form the content of this compact. they established, therefore, for the prince a right of demanding lawful obedience, and for the people of demanding adherence to the limitations placed by the laws. the people accordingly have a right to the fulfilment of the law by the prince. thus all laws create personal rights of the people, and the term people is thought of in a confused way as referring to the individuals as well as to the whole--_singuli et universi_.[ ] from this point of view it is a right of the people that parliament should be frequently summoned, that the judge should inflict no cruel punishments, and however else the declarations of the english charters may read. this conception of law as two-sided, establishing rights for both elements of the state, runs through all the earlier english history. the right which is conferred by law passes from generation to generation, it becomes hereditary and therefore acquirable by birth as one of the people. under henry vi. it is declared of the law: "la ley est le plus haute inheritance que le roy ad; car par la ley il même et toutes ses sujets sont rulés, et si la ley ne fuit, nul roy et nul inheritance sera."[ ] and in the petition of right parliament makes the appeal that the subjects have inherited their freedom through the laws.[ ] the laws, as the act of settlement expresses it, are the "birthright of the people".[ ] and so we find only ancient "rights and liberties" mentioned in the english laws of the seventeenth century. parliament is always demanding simply the confirmation of the "laws and statutes of this realm", that is, the strengthening of the existing relations between king and people. of the creation of new rights there is not a word in all these documents. consequently there is no reference whatever to the important fundamental rights of religious liberty, of assembling, of liberty of the press, or of free movement. and down to the present day the theory of english law does not recognize rights of this kind, but considers these lines of individual liberty as protected by the general principle of law, that any restraint of the person can only come about through legal authorization.[ ] according to the present english idea the rights of liberty rest simply upon the supremacy of the law,--they are law, not personal rights.[ ] the theory, founded in germany by gerber, and defended by laband and others, according to which the rights of liberty are nothing but duties of the government, sprang up in england, without any connection with the german teaching, from the existing conditions after the conception of the public rights of the individual as natural rights, which was based on locke and blackstone, had lost its power. but with locke even this conception stands in close connection with the old english ideas. when locke considers property--in which are included life and liberty--as an original right of the individual existing previous to the state, and when he conceives of the state as a society founded to protect this right, which is thus transformed from a natural to a civil right, he by no means ascribes definite fundamental rights to the man living in the state, but rather places such positive restrictions upon the legislative power as follow from the purposes of the state.[ ] when closely examined, however, these restrictions are nothing else than the most important stipulations of the bill of rights, which was enacted the year before the _two treatises on government_ appeared.[ ] blackstone was the first ( ) to found his doctrine of the absolute rights of persons upon the idea of the personal rights of the individual. security, liberty, and property are the absolute rights of every englishman, which from their character are nothing else than the natural liberty that remains to the individual after deducting the legal restraints demanded by the common interest.[ ] laws appear likewise as protectors of these rights,--the whole constitution of parliament, the limitation of the royal prerogative, and along with these the protection of the law courts, the right of petition, and the right to carry arms are treated, exactly in the manner of the bill of rights, as rights of englishmen, and indeed as subordinate rights to assist in guarding the three principal rights.[ ] but in spite of his fundamental conception of a natural right, the individual with rights was for blackstone not man simply, but the english subject.[ ] the american declarations of rights, on the other hand, begin with the statement that all men are born free and equal, and these declarations speak of rights that belong to "every individual", "all mankind" or "every member of society". they enumerate a much larger number of rights than the english declarations, and look upon these rights as innate and inalienable. whence comes this conception in american law? it is not from the english law. there is then nothing else from which to derive it than the conceptions of natural rights of that time. but there have been theories of natural rights ever since the time of the greeks, and they never led to the formulation of fundamental rights. the theory of natural rights for a long time had no hesitation in setting forth the contradiction between natural law and positive law without demanding the realization of the former through the latter. a passage from ulpian is drawn upon in the _digests_, which declares all men to be equal according to the law of nature, but slavery to be an institution of the civil law.[ ] the romans, however, in spite of all mitigation of slave laws, never thought of such a thing as the abolition of slavery. the natural freedom of man was set forth by many writers during the eighteenth century as compatible with lawful servitude. even locke, for whom liberty forms the very essence of man, in his constitution for north carolina sanctioned slavery and servitude. literature alone never produces anything, unless it finds in the historical and social conditions ground ready for its working. when one shows the literary origin of an idea, one has by no means therewith discovered the record of its practical significance. the history of political science to-day is entirely too much a history of the literature and too little a history of the institutions themselves. the number of new political ideas is very small; the most, at least in embryo, were known to the ancient theories of the state. but the institutions are found in constant change and must be seized in their own peculiar historical forms. footnotes: [footnote : it harks back finally to the old definition of florentinus l. d. , : "libertas est naturalis facultas eius, quod cuique facere libet, nisi si quid vi aut jure prohibetur."] [footnote : _arch. parl._ viii, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, pp. and .] [footnote : bancroft, vii, p. .] [footnote : _cf._ blackstone, _commentaries on the laws of england_, i, , p. . (edited by kerr, london, , i, p. .)] [footnote : upon this point, _cf._ cooley, _constitutional limitations_, th edition, boston, , chap. vii. even if the stipulation contained in the bills of rights that one can be deprived of his property only "by the law of the land" should not be embodied in the constitution by a state, a law transgressing it would be void by virtue of the fundamental limitations upon the competence of the legislatures. _loc. cit._, p. .] [footnote : the right to address petitions to the king ( ), and the right of protestant subjects to carry arms for their own defense suitable to their condition ( ).] [footnote : "and they do claim, demand, and insist upon all and singular the premises, as their undoubted rights and liberties."] [footnote : the old english charters put forward as possessors of the "_jura et libertates_" now the "_homines in regno nostro_", now the _regnum_ itself. the petition of right speaks of the "rights and liberties" of the subjects, but they are also characterized as "the laws and free customs of this realm".] [footnote : year books xix, gneist, _englische verfassungsgeschichte_, p. .] [footnote : "by which the statutes before-mentioned, and other the good laws and statutes of this realm, your subjects have inherited this freedom." gardiner, _the constitutional documents of the puritan revolution_, , pp. , .] [footnote : "and whereas the laws of england are the birthright of the people thereof." act of settlement iv, stubbs, _select charters_, th ed., , p. . birthright = right by birth, the rights, privileges or possessions to which one is entitled by birth; inheritance, patrimony (specifically used of the special rights of the first-born). murray, _a new english dictionary on historical principles_, _s. h. v._] [footnote : _cf._ the instructive work of dicey, _introduction to the study of the law of the constitution_, d ed., , pp. _et seq._] [footnote : "sie sind objectives, nicht subjectives recht." dicey, pp. _et seq._, _et seq._, _et seq._, etc. dicey treats the whole doctrine of the rights of liberty in the section "the rule of law." individual liberty according to him is in england simply the correlative of only permitting the restriction of the individual through laws.] [footnote : this is treated in the chapter "of the extent of the legislative power," _on civil government_, xi.] [footnote : _cf._ _on civil government_, xi, § .] [footnote : political liberty is no other than national liberty so far restrained by human laws (and no farther) as is necessary and expedient for the general advantage of the public. _loc. cit._, p. ( ).] [footnote : _loc. cit._, pp. _et seq._ ( _et seq._).] [footnote : _cf._ _loc. cit._, pp. ( ), ( ).] [footnote : l. d. de r.j. exactly so the kindred doctrines of the stoics earlier in greece had not the least legal success.] chapter vii. religious liberty in the anglo-american colonies the source of the idea of establishing by law a universal right of man. the democratic idea, upon which the constitution of the reformed church is based, was carried to its logical conclusion in england toward the end of the sixteenth century, and first of all by robert browne and his followers. they declared the church, which was identical with the parish, to be a community of believers who had placed themselves under obedience to christ by a compact with god, and they steadfastly recognized as authoritative only the will of the community at the time being, that is, the will of the majority.[ ] persecuted in england brownism transformed itself on dutch soil, especially through the agency of john robinson, into congregationalism, in which the earliest form of the independent movement made its appearance. the principles of congregationalism are first complete separation of church and state and then the autonomy of each separate parish,--as a petition addressed to james i. in expresses it: the right is exercised "of spiritual administration and government in itself and over itself by the common and free consent of the people, independently and immediately under christ."[ ] this sovereign individualism in the religious sphere led to practical consequences of extraordinary importance. from its principles there finally resulted the demand for, and the recognition of, full and unrestricted liberty of conscience, and then the asserting of this liberty to be a right not granted by any earthly power and therefore by no earthly power to be restrained. but the independent movement could not confine itself to ecclesiastical matters, it was forced by logical necessity to carry its fundamental doctrines into the political sphere. as the church, so it considered the state and every political association as the result of a compact between its original sovereign members.[ ] this compact was made indeed in pursuance of divine commandment, but it remained always the ultimate legal basis of the community. it was concluded by virtue of the individual's original right and had not only to insure security and advance the general welfare, but above all to recognize and protect the innate and inalienable rights of conscience. and it is the entire people that specifically man for man concluded this compact, for by it alone could every one be bound to respect the self-created authority and the self-created law. the first indications of these religious-political ideas can be traced far back, for they were not created by the reformation. but the practice which developed on the basis of these ideas was something unique. for the first time in history social compacts, by which states are founded, were not merely demanded, they were actually concluded. what had until then slumbered in the dust-covered manuscripts of the scholar became a powerful, life-determining movement. the men of that time believed that the state rested upon a contract, and they put their belief into practice. more recent theory of public law with only an imperfect knowledge of these events frequently employed them as examples of the possibility of founding a state by contract, without suspecting that these contracts were only the realization of an abstract theory. on october , , there was laid before the assembled council of cromwell's army a draft, worked out by the levellers, of a new constitution for england,[ ] which later, greatly enlarged and modified,[ ] was delivered to parliament with the request that it be laid before the entire english people for signature.[ ] in this remarkable document the power of parliament was set forth as limited in a manner similar to that later adopted by the americans, and particulars were enumerated which in future should not lie within the legislative power of the people's representatives. the first thing named was matters of religion, which were to be committed exclusively to the command of conscience.[ ] they were reckoned among the inherent rights, the "native rights", which the people were firmly resolved to maintain with their utmost strength against all attacks.[ ] here for the first and last time in england was an inherent right of religious liberty asserted in a proposed law. this right is recognized to-day in england in legal practice, but not in any expressly formulated principle.[ ] the religious conditions in england's north american colonies developed differently. the compact is celebrated which the persecuted and exiled pilgrim fathers concluded on board the mayflower, november , , before the founding of new plymouth. forty-one men on that occasion signed an act in which, for the glory of god, the advancement of the christian faith, and the honor of their king and country, they declare their purpose to found a colony. they thereupon mutually promised one another to unite themselves into a civil body politic, and, for the maintenance of good order and accomplishment of their proposed object, to make laws, to appoint officers, and to subject themselves to these.[ ] therewith began the series of "plantation covenants" which the english settlers, according to their ecclesiastical and political ideas, believed it necessary to make on founding a new colony. here they are only to be considered in their connection with religious liberty. in salem, the second colony in massachusetts, was founded by puritans. unmindful of the persecutions they themselves had suffered in their native land, they turned impatiently against such as did not agree with them in their religious ideas. roger williams, a young independent, landed in massachusetts in and was at once chosen by the community in salem to be its minister. but he preached complete separation of church and state, and demanded absolute religious liberty, not only for all christians but also for jews, turks, and heathen. they should have in the state equal civil and political rights with believers. a man's conscience belongs exclusively to him, and not to the state.[ ] exiled and in danger, williams forsook salem and with a faithful few founded, , the city of providence in the country of the narragansett indians, where all who were persecuted on account of their religion should find a refuge. in the original compact the seceders promised obedience to laws determined by a majority of themselves, but "only in civil things"--religion was to be in no way a subject of legislation.[ ] here for the first time was recognized the most unrestricted liberty of religious conviction, and that by a man who was himself glowing with religious feeling. nineteen settlers from providence in founded aquedneck, the second colony in the present state of rhode island, after having concluded a most remarkable compact: "we whose names are underwritten do here solemnly, in the presence of jehovah, incorporate ourselves into a bodie politik, and as he shall help, will submit our persons, lives and estates unto our lord jesus christ, the king of kings and lord of lords, and to all those perfect and absolute laws of his given us in his holy word of truth, to be guided and judged hereby.--exod. xxiv, , ; chron. xi, ; kings xi, ."[ ] but such as did not go so far as roger williams in the recognition of liberty of conscience were yet dominated by the idea of the necessity of a social compact in founding a new colony. in the fundamental orders of connecticut, a colony founded by puritans who also had emigrated from massachusetts, the settlers in declared that they united themselves in a body politic in pursuance of the word of god in order to guard the liberty of the gospel and the church discipline to which they were accustomed, and in order also in civil affairs to be ruled according to the laws.[ ] in the opposition in which they stood to the religious conditions in england, the puritans, although themselves little inclined to toleration, proceeded invariably upon the idea that their state had first of all to realize religious liberty, which was for them the free exercise of their own religious convictions. the idea that state and government rested upon a compact--so significant for the development of the american conceptions of individual liberty--was strengthened by the force of historical circumstances. a handful of men went forth to found new communities. they began their work of civilization scattered over wide stretches in the loneliness of the primeval forest.[ ] and so they believed that it was possible to live outside of the state, in a condition of nature, and that when they stepped out of that condition of nature they did it of their own free will and were not constrained by any earthly power. with their small numbers, representation was at first unnecessary, and the decisions were reached in the town meetings of all belonging to the community,--the form of a direct democracy grew naturally out of the given conditions and strengthened the conviction, which does not correspond to the old english conception, that the sovereignty of the people is the basis of legislation and of government. to a generation that could point to such beginnings for their state, the political ideas which later animated the men of seemed to bear their surety in themselves: they were "self-evident", as it reads in the declaration of independence. the inherent fundamental right of religious liberty, for which roger williams had striven so earnestly, found also in the seventeenth century its official recognition in law, first in the laws of of rhode island, and then in the charter which charles ii. granted the colony of rhode island and providence plantations in .[ ] it was therein ordered in fulfilment of the colonists' request, in a manner ever memorable, that in future in the said colony no person should be molested, punished or called in question for any differences of opinion in matters of religion; but that all persons at all times should have full liberty of conscience, so long as they behaved themselves peaceably and did not misuse this liberty in licentiousness or profaneness, nor to the injury or disturbance of others.[ ] thus a colony was granted that which in the mother-country at the time was contested to the utmost. similar principles are found for the first time in europe in the practice of frederick the great in prussia. but the principles of religious liberty were recognized to a greater or less extent in other colonies also. catholic maryland in granted freedom in the exercise of religion to every one who acknowledged jesus christ.[ ] also that remarkable constitution which locke prepared for north carolina and that went into force there in , and which agrees so little with the tenets of his _two treatises on government_, is based upon the principle not, it is true, of full equality of rights, but of toleration of dissenters, and also of jews and heathen.[ ] it was permitted every seven persons of any religion to form a church or communion of faith.[ ] no compulsion in matters of religion was exercised, except that every inhabitant when seventeen years of age had to declare to which communion he belonged and to be registered in some church, otherwise he stood outside of the protection of the law.[ ] all violence toward any religious assembly was strictly prohibited.[ ] it was not the principle of political liberty that lay on locke's heart, but the opening of a way to full religious liberty. in spite of the fact that in his treatise _on civil government_ there is not a word upon the right of conscience, which he had so energetically defended in his celebrated _letters on toleration_, the constitution of north carolina shows that in his practical plans it held the first place. and so with locke also liberty of conscience was brought forward as the first and most sacred right, overshadowing all others. this philosopher, who held freedom to be man's inalienable gift from nature, established servitude and slavery under the government he organized without hesitation, but religious toleration he carried through with great energy in this new feudal state. of the other colonies new jersey had proclaimed extensive toleration in , and new york in .[ ] in the latter, which had already declared under dutch rule in favor of liberal principles in religious matters, it was ordered in that no one who believed on jesus christ should on any pretext whatever be molested because of difference of opinion. in the same year william penn conferred a constitution with democratic basis upon the colony granted to him by the crown and which he had named after his father pennsylvania, in which it was declared that no one who believed on god should in any way be forced to take part in any religious worship or be otherwise molested,[ ] and in the constitution, which penn later ( ) established and which remained in force until , he emphasized above all that even when a people were endowed with the greatest civil liberties they could not be truly happy, unless liberty of conscience were recognized,[ ] and at the close he solemnly promised for himself and his heirs that the recognition of this liberty, which he had declared, should remain forever inviolable and that the wording of the article should not be changed in any particular.[ ] the constitutional principle was thus given at once the force of a _lex in perpetuum valitura_. in massachusetts received a charter from william iii. in which, following the example of the toleration act of , full liberty was granted to all christians except catholics;[ ] and georgia was given a similar law in by george ii.[ ] thus the principles of religious liberty to a greater or less extent acquired constitutional recognition in america. in the closest connection with the great religious political movement out of which the american democracy was born, there arose the conviction that there exists a right not conferred upon the citizen but inherent in man, that acts of conscience and expressions of religious conviction stand inviolable over against the state as the exercise of a higher right. this right so long suppressed is no "inheritance", is nothing handed down from their fathers, as the rights and liberties of magna charta and of the other english enactments,--not the state but the gospel proclaimed it. what in europe at that time and even much later had received official expression only in scanty rudiments,[ ] and aside from that was only asserted in the literature of the great intellectual movement which began in the seventeenth century and reached its height in the clearing-up epoch of the century following, was in rhode island and other colonies a recognized principle of the state by the middle of the seventeenth century. the right of the liberty of conscience was proclaimed, and with it came the conception of a universal right of man. in this right was designated by all the bills of rights, mostly in emphatic form and with precedence over all others, as a natural and inherent right.[ ] the character of this right is emphasized by the bill of rights of new hampshire, which declares that among the natural rights some are inalienable because no one can offer an equivalent for them. such are the rights of conscience.[ ] the idea of legally establishing inalienable, inherent and sacred rights of the individual is not of political but religious origin. what has been held to be a work of the revolution was in reality a fruit of the reformation and its struggles. its first apostle was not lafayette but roger williams, who, driven by powerful and deep religious enthusiasm, went into the wilderness in order to found a government of religious liberty, and his name is uttered by americans even to-day with the deepest respect. footnotes: [footnote : weingarten, _die revolutionskirchen englands_, p. .] [footnote : _ibid._, p. .] [footnote : the connection of the puritan-independent doctrine of the state-compact with the puritan idea of church covenants is brought out by borgeaud, p. . weingarten (p. ) remarks forcibly of the independents, "the right of every separate religious community freely and alone to decide and conduct their affairs was the foundation of the doctrine of the sovereignty of the people, which they introduced into the political consciousness of the modern world."] [footnote : first reproduced in gardiner, _history of the great civil war_, iii, london, , pp. - .] [footnote : the final text in gardiner, _constitutional documents of the puritan revolution_, oxford, , pp. - .] [footnote : gardiner, _history_, iii, p. .] [footnote : "that matters of religion and the ways of god's worship are not at all entrusted by us to any human power." gardiner, _history_, p. .] [footnote : _cf._ the text in gardiner, _history_, p. .] [footnote : _cf._ dicey, _loc. cit._, pp. , , where several laws are mentioned restricting the liberty of expressing religious opinion which are, however, obsolete, though they have never been formally repealed.] [footnote : the complete text in poore, i, p. . that it was far from the intentions of the settlers to found an independent state is evident from the entire document, in which they characterize themselves as "subjects of our dread sovereign lord king james".] [footnote : on williams, _cf._ weingarten, pp. _et seq._, and , bancroft, i, pp. _et seq._, masson, _the life of john milton_, ii, pp. _et seq._ the advance of the independent movement to unconditional freedom of faith is thoroughly discussed by weingarten, pp. _et seq._] [footnote : samuel greene arnold, _history of the state of rhode island_, i, new york, , p. .] [footnote : arnold, p. .] [footnote : _fundamental orders of connecticut_, poore, i, p. .] [footnote : the entire number of immigrants in new england amounted in to , at the highest. of these new plymouth had , connecticut less than souls. masson, _loc. cit._, pp. - .] [footnote : the wide separation of the colonies from the mother-country did not make this liberty appear dangerous though it was in such contradiction to the conditions in england. charles ii. sought further, in his aversion to the puritans, to favor as much as possible the colonies that had separated from massachusetts.] [footnote : "our royall will and pleasure is, that noe person within the sayd colonye, at any tyme hereafter, shall bee any wise molested, punished, disquieted, or called in question, for any differences in opinione in matters of religion, and doe not actually disturb the civill peace of our sayd colony; but that all and everye person and persons may, from tyme to tyme, and at all tymes hereafter, freelye and fullye have and enjoye his and their owne judgments and consciences, in matters of religious concernments, throughout the tract of lande hereafter mentioned; they behaving themselves peaceablie and quietlie, and not useing this libertie to lycentiousnesse and profanenesse, nor to the civill injurye or outward disturbeance of others; any lawe, statute or clause, therein contayned, or to bee contayned, usage or custome of this realme, to the contrary hereof, in any wise, notwithstanding." poore, ii, pp. , .] [footnote : bancroft, i, p. , e. lloyd harris, _church and slate in the maryland colony_. inaugural-dissertation. heidelberg, , p. _et seq_.] [footnote : carolina had already had religious toleration in the charter of . poore, ii, p. . locke himself wished to grant full religious liberty. _cf._ laboulaye, i, p. .] [footnote : art. . poore, ii, pp. , .] [footnote : art. . _ibid._] [footnote : arts. , . _ibid._] [footnote : c. ellis stevens, _sources of the constitution of the united states_, new york, , p. .] [footnote : laws agreed upon in england, art. xxxv. poore, ii, p. .] [footnote : charter of privileges for pennsylvania, art. i. poore, ii, p. . for holding office the confession of belief in jesus christ as the saviour of the world was necessary, but no special creed.] [footnote : art. viii, section .] [footnote : poore, i, p. . on this point _cf._ lauer, _church and state in new england_ in _johns hopkins university studies, th series_, ii-iii, baltimore, , pp. _et seq._] [footnote : poore, i, p. .] [footnote : in england the toleration act, i. will. and mary, c. , first granted toleration to dissenters. this was again restricted under anne and restored under george i. since george ii. they have been admitted to all offices. as is well known, however, the restrictions upon the catholics and jews have been done away with only in our century. in germany after the scanty concessions of the peace of osnabrück, a state of affairs similar to that earlier in america was first created by the toleration patent of joseph ii. of , the edict of frederick william ii. of july , , that which codified the principles of frederick the great, and above all by the prussian _allgemeines landrecht_ (teil ii, titel , §§ _et seq._).] [footnote : to be sure the carrying out of this right, in the direction of full political equality to the members of all confessions, differed in the different states. new york was the first state after rhode island that brought about the separation of church and state. virginia followed next in . for some time after in many states protestant or at least christian belief was necessary to obtain office. and even to-day some states require belief in god, in immortality, and in a future state of rewards and punishments. massachusetts declared in her bill of rights not only the right but the duty of worship, and as late as punished neglect of church attendance. in the course of the nineteenth century these and other restrictions have fallen away except for a very small part. for the union the exercise of political rights is made entirely independent of religious belief by art. vi of the constitution, and also by the famous first amendment the establishment of any religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof is forbidden. on the present condition in the separate states, _cf._ the thorough discussion by cooley, chap. xiii, pp. - ; further rüttiman, _kirche und staat in nordamerika_ ( ).] [footnote : "among the natural rights, some are in their very nature unalienable, because no equivalent can be given or received for them. of this kind are the rights of conscience." art. iv. poore, ii, .] chapter viii. the creation of a system of rights of man and of citizens during the american revolution. the seventeenth century was a time of religious struggles. in the following century political and economic interests pressed into the foreground of historical movement. the democratic institutions of the colonies were repeatedly in opposition to those of the mother-country, and the ties that bound them to her lost more and more of their significance. the great antagonism of their economic interests began to make itself widely felt. the economic prosperity of the colonies demanded the least possible restriction upon free movement. finally they felt that they were ruled not by their old home but by a foreign country. then the old puritan and independent conceptions became effective in a new direction. the theory of the social compact which played so important a rôle in the founding of the colonies, and had helped to establish religious liberty, now supported in the most significant way the reconstruction of existing institutions. not that it changed these institutions, it simply gave them a new basis. the colonists had brought over the ocean with them their liberties and rights as english-born subjects. in a series of charters from the english kings it was specifically stated that the colonists and their descendants should enjoy all the rights which belonged to englishmen in their native land.[ ] even before the english bill of rights the most of the colonies had enacted laws in which the ancient english liberties were gathered together.[ ] there occurred, however, in the second half of the eighteenth century a great transformation in these old rights. the inherited rights and liberties, as well as the privileges of organization, which had been granted the colonists by the english kings or had been sanctioned by the colonial lords, do not indeed change in word, but they become rights which spring not from man but from god and nature. to these ancient rights new ones were added. with the conviction that there existed a right of conscience independent of the state was found the starting-point for the determination of the inalienable rights of the individual. the theory of a law of nature recognized generally but one natural right of the individual--liberty or property. in the conceptions of the americans, however, in the eighteenth century there appears a whole series of such rights. the teaching of locke, the theories of pufendorf[ ] and the ideas of montesquieu, all powerfully influenced the political views of the americans of that time. but the setting forth of a complete series of universal rights of man and of citizens can in no way be explained through their influence alone. in there appeared in boston the celebrated pamphlet of james otis upon _the rights of the british colonies_. in it was brought forward the idea that the political and civil rights of the english colonists in no way rested upon a grant from the crown; even magna charta, old as it might be, was not the beginning of all things. "a time may come when parliament shall declare every american charter void; but the natural, inherent, and inseparable rights of the colonists as men and as citizens would remain, and, whatever became of charters, can never be abolished till the general conflagration."[ ] in this pamphlet definite limitations of the legislative power "which have been established by god and by nature" are already enumerated in the form of the later bills of rights. as the center of the whole stood the principal occasion of strife between the colonies and the mother-country, the right of taxation. that the levying of taxes or duties without the consent of the people or of representatives of the colonies was not indeed contrary to the laws of the country, but contrary to the eternal laws of liberty.[ ] but these limitations were none other than those enumerated by locke, which "the law of god and of nature has set for every legislative power in every state and in every form of government". but these propositions of locke's are here found in a very radical transformation. they are changing namely from law to personal right. while locke, similar to rousseau later, places the individuals in subjection to the will of the majority of the community, upon which, however, restrictions are placed by the objects of the state, now the individual establishes the conditions under which he will enter the community, and in the state holds fast to these conditions as rights. he has accordingly rights in the state and claims upon the state which do not spring from the state. in opposition to england's attempt to restrict these rights, the idea formally to declare them and to defend them grew all the stronger. this formulation was influenced by a work that was published anonymously at oxford in , in which for the first time "absolute rights" of the english are mentioned.[ ] it originated from no less a person than blackstone.[ ] these rights of the individual were voiced in blackstone's words for the first time in a memorial to the legislature, which is given in an appendix to otis's pamphlet.[ ] on november , , upon the motion of samuel adams a plan, which he had worked out, of a declaration of rights of the colonists as men, christians and citizens was adopted by all the assembled citizens of boston. it was therein declared, with an appeal to locke, that men enter into the state by voluntary agreement, and they have the right beforehand in an equitable compact to establish conditions and limitations for the state and to see to it that these are carried out. thereupon the colonists demanded as men the right of liberty and of property, as christians freedom of religion, and as citizens the rights of magna charta and of the bill of rights of .[ ] finally, on october , , the congress, representing twelve colonies, assembled in philadelphia adopted a declaration of rights, according to which the inhabitants of the north american colonies have rights which belong to them by the unchangeable law of nature, by the principles of the constitution of england and by their own constitutions.[ ] from that to the declaration of rights by virginia is apparently only a step, and yet there is a world-wide difference between the two documents. the declaration of philadelphia is a protest, that of virginia a law. the appeal to england's law has disappeared. the state of virginia solemnly recognizes rights pertaining to the present and future generations as the basis and foundation of government.[ ] in this and the following declarations of rights by the now sovereign states of north america, by the side of the rights of liberty that had been thus far asserted,--liberty of person, of property and of conscience,--stand new ones, corresponding to the infringements most recently suffered at england's hands of other lines of individual liberty: the right of assembly, the freedom of the press and free movement. but these rights of liberty were not the only ones therein asserted, there were the right of petition, the demand for the protection of law and the forms to be observed in insuring that, a special demand for trial by an independent jury, and in the same way with regard to other acts of the state; and the foundations of the citizen's political rights were also declared. they thus contained according to the intentions of their authors the distinctive features of the entire public right of the individual. besides these were included the principle of the division of powers, of rotation of office, of accountability of office-holders, of forbidding hereditary titles, and there were further contained certain limitations on the legislature and executive, such as forbidding the keeping of a standing army or creating an established church,--all of which do not engender personal rights of the individual at all, or do so only indirectly. the whole is based upon the principle of the sovereignty of the people, and culminates in the conception of the entire constitution being an agreement of all concerned. in this particular one sees clearly the old puritan-independent idea of the covenant in its lasting influence, of which new power was to be significantly displayed later. when to-day in the separate states of the union changes in the constitution are enacted either by the people themselves, or through a constitutional convention, there still lives in this democratic institution the same idea that once animated the settlers of connecticut and rhode island. everywhere the bill of rights forms the first part of the constitution, following which as second part comes the plan or frame of government. the right of the creator of the state, the originally free and unrestricted individual, was first established, and then the right of that which the individuals created, namely, the community. in spite of the general accord of these fundamental principles, when it came to carrying them out in practical legislation great differences arose in the various states, and though these differences were afterward greatly lessened they have not entirely disappeared even to-day. thus, as mentioned above, religious liberty, in spite of its universal recognition in the constitutions, was not everywhere nor at once carried out in all of its consequences. in spite of the assertion that all men are by nature free and equal the abolition of slavery was not then accomplished. in the slave states in place of "man" stood "freeman". the rights thus formally declared belonged originally to all the "inhabitants", in the slave states to all the "whites". it was only later that the qualification of citizenship of the united states was required in most of the states for the exercise of political rights. we have thus seen by what a remarkable course of development there arose out of the english law, old and new, that was practised in the colonies, the conception of a sphere of rights of the individual, which was independent of the state, and by the latter was simply to be recognized. in reality, however, the declarations of rights did nothing else than express the existing condition of rights in definite universal formulas. that which the americans already enjoyed they wished to proclaim as a perpetual possession for themselves and for every free people. in contrast to them the french wished to give that which they did not yet have, namely, institutions to correspond to their universal principles. therein lies the most significant difference between the american and french declarations of rights, that in the one case the institutions preceded the recognition of rights of the individual, in the other they followed after. therein lay also the fatal mistake of the german national assembly at frankfort which wished to determine first the rights of the individual and then establish the state. the german state was not yet founded, but it was already settled what this state not yet existing dare not do and what it had to concede. the americans could calmly precede their plan of government with a bill of rights, because that government and the controlling laws had already long existed. one thing, however, has resulted from this investigation with irrefutable certainty. the principles of are in reality the principles of . footnotes: [footnote : kent, _commentaries on american law_, th ed., i, p. .] [footnote : _cf._ kent, i, pp. _et seq._; stevens, _loc. cit._, pp. _et seq._ they are universally designated to-day in america as "bills of rights". their example undoubtedly influenced the declarations of and those after.] [footnote : borgeaud, p. , cites a treatise by john wyse as having had great influence in the democratizing of ideas in massachusetts. this man, whose name was john wise, has done nothing else than take pufendorf's theories as the basis of his work, as he himself specifically declares. _cf._ j. wise, _a vindication on the government of new england churches_, boston, , p. .] [footnote : bancroft, iv, pp. , .] [footnote : _cf._ john adams, _works_, x, boston, , p. .] [footnote : _analysis of the laws of england_, chap. .] [footnote : it formed the basis of blackstone's later _commentaries_.] [footnote : _cf._ otis, _the rights of the british colonies asserted and proved_, , reprinted london, p. .] [footnote : _cf._ wells, _the life and public services of samuel adams_, i, boston, , pp. - ; laboulaye, ii, p. .] [footnote : the entire text reproduced in story, _commentaries on the constitution of the united states_, d ed., i, pp. _et seq._] [footnote : the heading of the bill of rights reads: "a declaration of rights made by the representatives of the good people of virginia, assembled in full and free convention; which rights do pertain to them and their posterity, as the basis and foundation of government."] chapter ix. the rights of man and the teutonic conception of right. in conclusion there remains still one question to answer. why is it that the doctrine of an original right of the individual and of a state compact, arising as far back as the time of the sophists in the ancient world, further developed in the mediæval theory of natural law, and carried on by the currents of the reformation,--why is it that this doctrine advanced to epoch-making importance for the first time in england and her colonies? and in general, in a thoroughly monarchical state, all of whose institutions are inwardly bound up with royalty and only through royalty can be fully comprehended, how could republican ideas press in and change the structure of the state so completely? the immediate cause thereof lies clearly before us. the antagonism between the dynasty of the stuarts, who came from a foreign land and relied upon their divine right, and the english national conceptions of right, and also the religious wars with royalty in england and scotland, seem to have sufficiently favored the spreading of doctrines which were able to arouse an energetic opposition. yet similar conditions existed in many a continental state from the end of the sixteenth to the middle of the seventeenth century. there, too, arose a strong opposition of the estates to royalty which was striving more and more towards absolutism, fearful religious wars broke out and an extensive literature sought with great energy to establish rights of the people and of the individual over against the rulers. the revolutionary ideas on the continent led it is true in france to regicide, but there was nowhere an attempt made at a reconstruction of the whole state system. locke's doctrines of a law of nature appear to have had no influence at all outside of england. the continental doctrines of natural law played their important part for the first time at the end of the eighteenth century in the great social transformation of the french revolution. it was not without result that england in distinction from the continent had withstood the influence of the roman law. the english legal conceptions have by no means remained untouched by the roman, but they have not been nearly so deeply influenced by them as the continental. the public law especially developed upon an essentially teutonic basis, and the original teutonic ideas of right have never been overgrown with the later roman conceptions of the state's omnipotence. the teutonic state, however, in distinction from the ancient, so far as the latter is historically known to us, rose from weak beginnings to increasing power. the competence of the teutonic state was in the beginning very narrow, the individual was greatly restricted by his family and clan, but not by the state. the political life of the middle ages found expression rather in associations than in a state which exhibited at first only rudimentary forms. at the beginning of modern times the power of the state became more and more concentrated. this could happen in england all the easier because the norman kings had already strongly centralized the administration. as early as the end of the sixteenth century sir thomas smith could speak of the unrestricted power of the english parliament,[ ] which coke a little later declared to be "absolute and transcendent".[ ] but this power was thought of by englishmen as unlimited only in a nominal legal sense. that the state, and therefore parliament and the king have very real restrictions placed upon them has been at all times in england a live conviction of the people. magna charta declares that the liberties and rights conceded by it are granted "_in perpetuum_".[ ] in the bill of rights it was ordained that everything therein contained should "remain the law of this realm forever".[ ] in spite of the nominal omnipotence of the state a limit which it shall not over-step is specifically demanded and recognized in the most important fundamental laws. in these nominally legal but perfectly meaningless stipulations, the old teutonic legal conception of the state's limited sphere of activity finds expression. the movement of the reformation was also based on the idea of the restriction of the state. here, however, there entered the conception of a second restriction which was conditioned by the entire historical development. the mediæval state found restrictions not only in the strength of its members, but also in the sphere of the church. the question as to how far the state's right extended in spiritual matters could only be fully raised after the reformation, because through the reformation those limits which had been fixed in the middle ages again became disputable. the new defining of the religious sphere and the withdrawal of the state from that sphere were also on the lines of necessary historical development. so the conception of the superiority of the individual over against the state found its support in the entire historical condition of england in the seventeenth century. the doctrines of a natural law attached themselves to the old conceptions of right, which had never died, and brought them out in new form. the same is true of the theories that arose on the continent. since the predominance of the historical school, one is accustomed to look upon the doctrines of a natural law as impossible dreaming. but an important fact is thereby overlooked, that no theory, no matter how abstract it may seem, which wins influence upon its time can do so entirely outside of the field of historical reality. an insight into these historical facts is of the greatest importance for a correct legal comprehension of the relation of the state and the individual. there are here two possibilities, both of which can be logically carried out. according to the one the entire sphere of right of the individual is the product of state concession and permission. according to the other the state not only engenders rights of the individual, but it also leaves the individual that measure of liberty which it does not itself require in the interest of the whole. this liberty, however, it does not create but only recognizes. the first conception is based upon the idea of the state's omnipotence as it was most sharply defined in the absolutist doctrines of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. its extreme consequence has been drawn by the poet in his question of law: "jahrelang schon bedien' ich mich meiner nase zum riechen; hab' ich denn wirklich an sie auch ein erweisliches recht?"[ ] the second theory on the other hand is that of the teutonic conception of right corresponding to the historical facts of the gradual development of the state's power. if natural right is identical with non-historical right, then the first doctrine is for the modern state that of natural right, the second that of historical right. however much the boundaries of that recognized liberty have changed in the course of time, the consciousness that such boundaries existed was never extinguished in the teutonic peoples even at the time of the absolute state.[ ] this liberty accordingly was not created but recognized, and recognized in the self-limitation of the state and in thus defining the intervening spaces which must necessarily remain between those rules with which the state surrounds the individual. what thus remains is not so much a right as it is a condition. the great error in the theory of a natural right lay in conceiving of the actual condition of liberty as a right and ascribing to this right a higher power which creates and restricts the state.[ ] at first glance the question does not seem to be of great practical significance, whether an act of the individual is one directly permitted by the state or one only indirectly recognized. but it is not the task of the science of law merely to train the judge and the administrative officer and teach them to decide difficult cases. to recognize the true boundaries between the individual and the community is the highest problem that thoughtful consideration of human society has to solve. footnotes: [footnote : "the most high and absolute power of the realm of england consisteth in the parliament ... all that ever the people of rome might do, either in _centuriatis comitiis_ or _tributis_, the same may be done by the parliament of england, which representeth and hath the power of the whole realm, both the head and the body." _the commonwealth of england_, , book ii, reprinted in prothero, _select statutes and documents of elizabeth and james i._, oxford, , p. .] [footnote : _inst._ p. .] [footnote : art. . stubbs, p. .] [footnote : art. . stubbs, p. .] [footnote : for years i have used my nose to smell with, have i then really a provable right to it?] [footnote : the idea of all individual rights of liberty being the product of state concession has been recently advocated by tezner, _grünhuts zeitschrift für privat-und öffentliches recht_, xxi, pp. _et seq._, who seeks to banish the opposing conception to the realm of natural right. the decision of such important questions can only be accomplished by careful historical analysis, which will show different results for different epochs,--that, for example, the legal nature of liberty is entirely different in the ancient state and in the modern. legal dialectics can easily deduce the given condition with equally logical acuteness from principles directly opposed to one another. the true principle is taught not by jurisprudence but by history.] [footnote : _cf._ more explicitly on this, jellinek, _loc. cit._, pp. , _et seq._] _second impression._ ford's the federalist. edited by paul leicester ford, editor of the writings of jefferson; bibliography of the constitution of the united states, - ; pamphlets on the constitution of the united states. lxxvii + pp. large mo. $ . , _net_. the present edition is the first in which any attempt has been made to illustrate, in footnotes, not merely the obscure passages in the text, but also the subsequent experience of the united states and other countries where they relate to the views expressed by 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transcribe some passages we had marked as maxims for the times. so long as the reforms and improvements in our educational methods which general walker advocated, not without some success, are but partially accomplished, will this volume of expert testimony deserve to be close at hand to those with whom is the responsibility of direction." _the dial_: "a fitting memorial to its author.... the breadth of his experience, as well as the natural range of his mind, are here reflected. the subjects dealt with are all live and practical.... he never deals with them in a narrow or so-called 'practical' way." _the boston transcript_: "two of his conspicuous merits characterize these papers, the peculiar power he possessed of enlisting and retaining the attention for what are commonly supposed to be dry and difficult subjects, and the capacity he had for controversy, sharp and incisive, but so candid and generous that it left no festering wound." _the review of reviews_: "a strong presentation of the scope and dignity of technological education, and its relations to other forms of culture." _the school review_: "the scope and power of the contents make the work a permanent contribution to the development of educational thought and principle." earlier books by gen. francis a. walker (_circular free_.) _wages_. pp. mo. $ . .--_money_. pp. mo. $ . .--_money in its relations to trade and industry_. pp. mo. $ . .--_international bimetallism_. pp. mo. $ . .--_political economy_ (_advanced course_. pp. vo. $ . , _net_.--_briefer course_. pp. mo. $ . , _net_.--_elementary course_. pp. mo. $ . , _net_.) henry holt & co. west rd st., new york wabash ave., chicago d impression of the fortune of war by miss elizabeth barrow. mo. $ . . a vivid romance, the scene of which is laid in new york city during the british occupation in the revolution. _n.y. times saturday review_: "the story is a good one, the historical data accurate, and the ways and manners of the period are cleverly 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things as vividly as far things. his review of the present state of russia's southern boundary in asia is striking, and sums up a great deal of history." thompson's russian politics by herbert m. thompson. an account of the relations of russian geography, history, and politics, and of the bearings of the last on questions of world-wide interest. with maps. mo. $ . . _outlook_: "the result of careful study, compactly, clearly, and effectively presented.... the author's aim is to stir the friends of freedom throughout the world to a deeper interest in the cause of russian liberty. his work is vivified by the fact that his heart is in it." wallace's russia by d. mackenzie wallace, m.a., member of the imperial russian geographical society. large mo. $ . . contents include: in the northern forests; voluntary exile; the village priest; a peasant family of the old type; the mir, or village community; towns and mercantile classes; lord novgorod the great; the imperial administration; the new local self-government; proprietors of the modern school; the noblesse; social classes; among the heretics; pastoral tribes of the steppes; st. petersburg and european influence; church and state; the crimean war and its consequences; the serfs; the new law courts; territorial expansion and the eastern question. _nation_: "worthy of the highest praise.... not a piece of clever book-making, but the result of a large amount of serious study and thorough research.... we commend his book as a very valuable account of a very interesting people." gautier's a winter in russia by théophile gautier. translated by m.m. ripley. mo. $ . . contents: berlin; hamburg; schleswig; lübeck; crossing the baltic; st. petersburg; winter; the neva; details of interiors; a ball at the winter palace; the theatres; the tchoukine dvor; zichy; st. isaac's; moscow; the kremlin; troitza; byzantine art; return to france. _new york tribune_: "as little like an ordinary book of travel as a slender antique vase filled with the perfumed wine of horatian banquets is like the fat comfortable tea-cup of a modern breakfast-table." henry holt & co. west d street new york this preservation photocopy was made at booklab. inc. in compliance with copyright law. the paper meets the requirements of ansi/niso z . - (permanence of paper) austin a discourse upon the origin and the foundation of the inequality among mankind by j. j. rousseau introductory note jean jacques rousseau was born at geneva, june , , the son of a watchmaker of french origin. his education was irregular, and though he tried many professions--including engraving, music, and teaching--he found it difficult to support himself in any of them. the discovery of his talent as a writer came with the winning of a prize offered by the academy of dijon for a discourse on the question, "whether the progress of the sciences and of letters has tended to corrupt or to elevate morals." he argued so brilliantly that the tendency of civilization was degrading that he became at once famous. the discourse here printed on the causes of inequality among men was written in a similar competition. he now concentrated his powers upon literature, producing two novels, "la nouvelle heloise," the forerunner and parent of endless sentimental and picturesque fictions; and "emile, ou l'education," a work which has had enormous influence on the theory and practise of pedagogy down to our own time and in which the savoyard vicar appears, who is used as the mouthpiece for rousseau's own religious ideas. "le contrat social" ( ) elaborated the doctrine of the discourse on inequality. both historically and philosophically it is unsound; but it was the chief literary source of the enthusiasm for liberty, fraternity, and equality, which inspired the leaders of the french revolution, and its effects passed far beyond france. his most famous work, the "confessions," was published after his death. this book is a mine of information as to his life, but it is far from trustworthy; and the picture it gives of the author's personality and conduct, though painted in such a way as to make it absorbingly interesting, is often unpleasing in the highest degree. but it is one of the great autobiographies of the world. during rousseau's later years he was the victim of the delusion of persecution; and although he was protected by a succession of good friends, he came to distrust and quarrel with each in turn. he died at ermenonville, near paris, july , , the most widely influential french writer of his age. the savoyard vicar and his "profession of faith" are introduced into "emile" not, according to the author, because he wishes to exhibit his principles as those which should be taught, but to give an example of the way in which religious matters should be discussed with the young. nevertheless, it is universally recognized that these opinions are rousseau's own, and represent in short form his characteristic attitude toward religious belief. the vicar himself is believed to combine the traits of two savoyard priests whom rousseau knew in his youth. the more important was the abbe gaime, whom he had known at turin; the other, the abbe gatier, who had taught him at annecy. question proposed by the academy of dijon what is the origin of the inequality among mankind; and whether such inequality is authorized by the law of nature? a discourse upon the origin and the foundation of the inequality among mankind 'tis of man i am to speak; and the very question, in answer to which i am to speak of him, sufficiently informs me that i am going to speak to men; for to those alone, who are not afraid of honouring truth, it belongs to propose discussions of this kind. i shall therefore maintain with confidence the cause of mankind before the sages, who invite me to stand up in its defence; and i shall think myself happy, if i can but behave in a manner not unworthy of my subject and of my judges. i conceive two species of inequality among men; one which i call natural, or physical inequality, because it is established by nature, and consists in the difference of age, health, bodily strength, and the qualities of the mind, or of the soul; the other which may be termed moral, or political inequality, because it depends on a kind of convention, and is established, or at least authorized, by the common consent of mankind. this species of inequality consists in the different privileges, which some men enjoy, to the prejudice of others, such as that of being richer, more honoured, more powerful, and even that of exacting obedience from them. it were absurd to ask, what is the cause of natural inequality, seeing the bare definition of natural inequality answers the question: it would be more absurd still to enquire, if there might not be some essential connection between the two species of inequality, as it would be asking, in other words, if those who command are necessarily better men than those who obey; and if strength of body or of mind, wisdom or virtue are always to be found in individuals, in the same proportion with power, or riches: a question, fit perhaps to be discussed by slaves in the hearing of their masters, but unbecoming free and reasonable beings in quest of truth. what therefore is precisely the subject of this discourse? it is to point out, in the progress of things, that moment, when, right taking place of violence, nature became subject to law; to display that chain of surprising events, in consequence of which the strong submitted to serve the weak, and the people to purchase imaginary ease, at the expense of real happiness. the philosophers, who have examined the foundations of society, have, every one of them, perceived the necessity of tracing it back to a state of nature, but not one of them has ever arrived there. some of them have not scrupled to attribute to man in that state the ideas of justice and injustice, without troubling their heads to prove, that he really must have had such ideas, or even that such ideas were useful to him: others have spoken of the natural right of every man to keep what belongs to him, without letting us know what they meant by the word belong; others, without further ceremony ascribing to the strongest an authority over the weakest, have immediately struck out government, without thinking of the time requisite for men to form any notion of the things signified by the words authority and government. all of them, in fine, constantly harping on wants, avidity, oppression, desires and pride, have transferred to the state of nature ideas picked up in the bosom of society. in speaking of savages they described citizens. nay, few of our own writers seem to have so much as doubted, that a state of nature did once actually exist; though it plainly appears by sacred history, that even the first man, immediately furnished as he was by god himself with both instructions and precepts, never lived in that state, and that, if we give to the books of moses that credit which every christian philosopher ought to give to them, we must deny that, even before the deluge, such a state ever existed among men, unless they fell into it by some extraordinary event: a paradox very difficult to maintain, and altogether impossible to prove. let us begin therefore, by laying aside facts, for they do not affect the question. the researches, in which we may engage on this occasion, are not to be taken for historical truths, but merely as hypothetical and conditional reasonings, fitter to illustrate the nature of things, than to show their true origin, like those systems, which our naturalists daily make of the formation of the world. religion commands us to believe, that men, having been drawn by god himself out of a state of nature, are unequal, because it is his pleasure they should be so; but religion does not forbid us to draw conjectures solely from the nature of man, considered in itself, and from that of the beings which surround him, concerning the fate of mankind, had they been left to themselves. this is then the question i am to answer, the question i propose to examine in the present discourse. as mankind in general have an interest in my subject, i shall endeavour to use a language suitable to all nations; or rather, forgetting the circumstances of time and place in order to think of nothing but the men i speak to, i shall suppose myself in the lyceum of athens, repeating the lessons of my masters before the platos and the xenocrates of that famous seat of philosophy as my judges, and in presence of the whole human species as my audience. o man, whatever country you may belong to, whatever your opinions may be, attend to my words; you shall hear your history such as i think i have read it, not in books composed by those like you, for they are liars, but in the book of nature which never lies. all that i shall repeat after her, must be true, without any intermixture of falsehood, but where i may happen, without intending it, to introduce my own conceits. the times i am going to speak of are very remote. how much you are changed from what you once were! 'tis in a manner the life of your species that i am going to write, from the qualities which you have received, and which your education and your habits could deprave, but could not destroy. there is, i am sensible, an age at which every individual of you would choose to stop; and you will look out for the age at which, had you your wish, your species had stopped. uneasy at your present condition for reasons which threaten your unhappy posterity with still greater uneasiness, you will perhaps wish it were in your power to go back; and this sentiment ought to be considered, as the panegyric of your first parents, the condemnation of your contemporaries, and a source of terror to all those who may have the misfortune of succeeding you. discourse first part however important it may be, in order to form a proper judgment of the natural state of man, to consider him from his origin, and to examine him, as it were, in the first embryo of the species; i shall not attempt to trace his organization through its successive approaches to perfection: i shall not stop to examine in the animal system what he might have been in the beginning, to become at last what he actually is; i shall not inquire whether, as aristotle thinks, his neglected nails were no better at first than crooked talons; whether his whole body was not, bear-like, thick covered with rough hair; and whether, walking upon all-fours, his eyes, directed to the earth, and confined to a horizon of a few paces extent, did not at once point out the nature and limits of his ideas. i could only form vague, and almost imaginary, conjectures on this subject. comparative anatomy has not as yet been sufficiently improved; neither have the observations of natural philosophy been sufficiently ascertained, to establish upon such foundations the basis of a solid system. for this reason, without having recourse to the supernatural informations with which we have been favoured on this head, or paying any attention to the changes, that must have happened in the conformation of the interior and exterior parts of man's body, in proportion as he applied his members to new purposes, and took to new aliments, i shall suppose his conformation to have always been, what we now behold it; that he always walked on two feet, made the same use of his hands that we do of ours, extended his looks over the whole face of nature, and measured with his eyes the vast extent of the heavens. if i strip this being, thus constituted, of all the supernatural gifts which he may have received, and of all the artificial faculties, which we could not have acquired but by slow degrees; if i consider him, in a word, such as he must have issued from the hands of nature; i see an animal less strong than some, and less active than others, but, upon the whole, the most advantageously organized of any; i see him satisfying the calls of hunger under the first oak, and those of thirst at the first rivulet; i see him laying himself down to sleep at the foot of the same tree that afforded him his meal; and behold, this done, all his wants are completely supplied. the earth left to its own natural fertility and covered with immense woods, that no hatchet ever disfigured, offers at every step food and shelter to every species of animals. men, dispersed among them, observe and imitate their industry, and thus rise to the instinct of beasts; with this advantage, that, whereas every species of beasts is confined to one peculiar instinct, man, who perhaps has not any that particularly belongs to him, appropriates to himself those of all other animals, and lives equally upon most of the different aliments, which they only divide among themselves; a circumstance which qualifies him to find his subsistence, with more ease than any of them. men, accustomed from their infancy to the inclemency of the weather, and to the rigour of the different seasons; inured to fatigue, and obliged to defend, naked and without arms, their life and their prey against the other wild inhabitants of the forest, or at least to avoid their fury by flight, acquire a robust and almost unalterable habit of body; the children, bringing with them into the world the excellent constitution of their parents, and strengthening it by the same exercises that first produced it, attain by this means all the vigour that the human frame is capable of. nature treats them exactly in the same manner that sparta treated the children of her citizens; those who come well formed into the world she renders strong and robust, and destroys all the rest; differing in this respect from our societies, in which the state, by permitting children to become burdensome to their parents, murders them all without distinction, even in the wombs of their mothers. the body being the only instrument that savage man is acquainted with, he employs it to different uses, of which ours, for want of practice, are incapable; and we may thank our industry for the loss of that strength and agility, which necessity obliges him to acquire. had he a hatchet, would his hand so easily snap off from an oak so stout a branch? had he a sling, would it dart a stone to so great a distance? had he a ladder, would he run so nimbly up a tree? had he a horse, would he with such swiftness shoot along the plain? give civilized man but time to gather about him all his machines, and no doubt he will be an overmatch for the savage: but if you have a mind to see a contest still more unequal, place them naked and unarmed one opposite to the other; and you will soon discover the advantage there is in perpetually having all our forces at our disposal, in being constantly prepared against all events, and in always carrying ourselves, as it were, whole and entire about us. hobbes would have it that man is naturally void of fear, and always intent upon attacking and fighting. an illustrious philosopher thinks on the contrary, and cumberland and puffendorff likewise affirm it, that nothing is more fearful than man in a state of nature, that he is always in a tremble, and ready to fly at the first motion he perceives, at the first noise that strikes his ears. this, indeed, may be very true in regard to objects with which he is not acquainted; and i make no doubt of his being terrified at every new sight that presents itself, as often as he cannot distinguish the physical good and evil which he may expect from it, nor compare his forces with the dangers he has to encounter; circumstances that seldom occur in a state of nature, where all things proceed in so uniform a manner, and the face of the earth is not liable to those sudden and continual changes occasioned in it by the passions and inconstancies of collected bodies. but savage man living among other animals without any society or fixed habitation, and finding himself early under a necessity of measuring his strength with theirs, soon makes a comparison between both, and finding that he surpasses them more in address, than they surpass him in strength, he learns not to be any longer in dread of them. turn out a bear or a wolf against a sturdy, active, resolute savage, (and this they all are,) provided with stones and a good stick; and you will soon find that the danger is at least equal on both sides, and that after several trials of this kind, wild beasts, who are not fond of attacking each other, will not be very fond of attacking man, whom they have found every whit as wild as themselves. as to animals who have really more strength than man has address, he is, in regard to them, what other weaker species are, who find means to subsist notwithstanding; he has even this great advantage over such weaker species, that being equally fleet with them, and finding on every tree an almost inviolable asylum, he is always at liberty to take it or leave it, as he likes best, and of course to fight or to fly, whichever is most agreeable to him. to this we may add that no animal naturally makes war upon man, except in the case of self-defence or extreme hunger; nor ever expresses against him any of these violent antipathies, which seem to indicate that some particular species are intended by nature for the food of others. but there are other more formidable enemies, and against which man is not provided with the same means of defence; i mean natural infirmities, infancy, old age, and sickness of every kind, melancholy proofs of our weakness, whereof the two first are common to all animals, and the last chiefly attends man living in a state of society. it is even observable in regard to infancy, that the mother being able to carry her child about with her, wherever she goes, can perform the duty of a nurse with a great deal less trouble, than the females of many other animals, who are obliged to be constantly going and coming with no small labour and fatigue, one way to look out for their own subsistence, and another to suckle and feed their young ones. true it is that, if the woman happens to perish, her child is exposed to the greatest danger of perishing with her; but this danger is common to a hundred other species, whose young ones require a great deal of time to be able to provide for themselves; and if our infancy is longer than theirs, our life is longer likewise; so that, in this respect too, all things are in a manner equal; not but that there are other rules concerning the duration of the first age of life, and the number of the young of man and other animals, but they do not belong to my subject. with old men, who stir and perspire but little, the demand for food diminishes with their abilities to provide it; and as a savage life would exempt them from the gout and the rheumatism, and old age is of all ills that which human assistance is least capable of alleviating, they would at last go off, without its being perceived by others that they ceased to exist, and almost without perceiving it themselves. in regard to sickness, i shall not repeat the vain and false declamations made use of to discredit medicine by most men, while they enjoy their health; i shall only ask if there are any solid observations from which we may conclude that in those countries where the healing art is most neglected, the mean duration of man's life is shorter than in those where it is most cultivated? and how is it possible this should be the case, if we inflict more diseases upon ourselves than medicine can supply us with remedies! the extreme inequalities in the manner of living of the several classes of mankind, the excess of idleness in some, and of labour in others, the facility of irritating and satisfying our sensuality and our appetites, the too exquisite and out of the way aliments of the rich, which fill them with fiery juices, and bring on indigestions, the unwholesome food of the poor, of which even, bad as it is, they very often fall short, and the want of which tempts them, every opportunity that offers, to eat greedily and overload their stomachs; watchings, excesses of every kind, immoderate transports of all the passions, fatigues, waste of spirits, in a word, the numberless pains and anxieties annexed to every condition, and which the mind of man is constantly a prey to; these are the fatal proofs that most of our ills are of our own making, and that we might have avoided them all by adhering to the simple, uniform and solitary way of life prescribed to us by nature. allowing that nature intended we should always enjoy good health, i dare almost affirm that a state of reflection is a state against nature, and that the man who meditates is a depraved animal. we need only call to mind the good constitution of savages, of those at least whom we have not destroyed by our strong liquors; we need only reflect, that they are strangers to almost every disease, except those occasioned by wounds and old age, to be in a manner convinced that the history of human diseases might be easily composed by pursuing that of civil societies. such at least was the opinion of plato, who concluded from certain remedies made use of or approved by podalyrus and macaon at the siege of troy, that several disorders, which these remedies were found to bring on in his days, were not known among men at that remote period. man therefore, in a state of nature where there are so few sources of sickness, can have no great occasion for physic, and still less for physicians; neither is the human species more to be pitied in this respect, than any other species of animals. ask those who make hunting their recreation or business, if in their excursions they meet with many sick or feeble animals. they meet with many carrying the marks of considerable wounds, that have been perfectly well healed and closed up; with many, whose bones formerly broken, and whose limbs almost torn off, have completely knit and united, without any other surgeon but time, any other regimen but their usual way of living, and whose cures were not the less perfect for their not having been tortured with incisions, poisoned with drugs, or worn out by diet and abstinence. in a word, however useful medicine well administered may be to us who live in a state of society, it is still past doubt, that if, on the one hand, the sick savage, destitute of help, has nothing to hope from nature, on the other, he has nothing to fear but from his disease; a circumstance, which oftens renders his situation preferable to ours. let us therefore beware of confounding savage man with the men, whom we daily see and converse with. nature behaves towards all animals left to her care with a predilection, that seems to prove how jealous she is of that prerogative. the horse, the cat, the bull, nay the ass itself, have generally a higher stature, and always a more robust constitution, more vigour, more strength and courage in their forests than in our houses; they lose half these advantages by becoming domestic animals; it looks as if all our attention to treat them kindly, and to feed them well, served only to bastardize them. it is thus with man himself. in proportion as he becomes sociable and a slave to others, he becomes weak, fearful, mean-spirited, and his soft and effeminate way of living at once completes the enervation of his strength and of his courage. we may add, that there must be still a wider difference between man and man in a savage and domestic condition, than between beast and beast; for as men and beasts have been treated alike by nature, all the conveniences with which men indulge themselves more than they do the beasts tamed by them, are so many particular causes which make them degenerate more sensibly. nakedness therefore, the want of houses, and of all these unnecessaries, which we consider as so very necessary, are not such mighty evils in respect to these primitive men, and much less still any obstacle to their preservation. their skins, it is true, are destitute of hair; but then they have no occasion for any such covering in warm climates; and in cold climates they soon learn to apply to that use those of the animals they have conquered; they have but two feet to run with, but they have two hands to defend themselves with, and provide for all their wants; it costs them perhaps a great deal of time and trouble to make their children walk, but the mothers carry them with ease; an advantage not granted to other species of animals, with whom the mother, when pursued, is obliged to abandon her young ones, or regulate her steps by theirs. in short, unless we admit those singular and fortuitous concurrences of circumstances, which i shall speak of hereafter, and which, it is very possible, may never have existed, it is evident, in every state of the question, that the man, who first made himself clothes and built himself a cabin, supplied himself with things which he did not much want, since he had lived without them till then; and why should he not have been able to support in his riper years, the same kind of life, which he had supported from his infancy? alone, idle, and always surrounded with danger, savage man must be fond of sleep, and sleep lightly like other animals, who think but little, and may, in a manner, be said to sleep all the time they do not think: self-preservation being almost his only concern, he must exercise those faculties most, which are most serviceable in attacking and in defending, whether to subdue his prey, or to prevent his becoming that of other animals: those organs, on the contrary, which softness and sensuality can alone improve, must remain in a state of rudeness, utterly incompatible with all manner of delicacy; and as his senses are divided on this point, his touch and his taste must be extremely coarse and blunt; his sight, his hearing, and his smelling equally subtle: such is the animal state in general, and accordingly if we may believe travellers, it is that of most savage nations. we must not therefore be surprised, that the hottentots of the cape of good hope, distinguish with their naked eyes ships on the ocean, at as great a distance as the dutch can discern them with their glasses; nor that the savages of america should have tracked the spaniards with their noses, to as great a degree of exactness, as the best dogs could have done; nor that all these barbarous nations support nakedness without pain, use such large quantities of piemento to give their food a relish, and drink like water the strongest liquors of europe. as yet i have considered man merely in his physical capacity; let us now endeavour to examine him in a metaphysical and moral light. i can discover nothing in any mere animal but an ingenious machine, to which nature has given senses to wind itself up, and guard, to a certain degree, against everything that might destroy or disorder it. i perceive the very same things in the human machine, with this difference, that nature alone operates in all the operations of the beast, whereas man, as a free agent, has a share in his. one chooses by instinct; the other by an act of liberty; for which reason the beast cannot deviate from the rules that have been prescribed to it, even in cases where such deviation might be useful, and man often deviates from the rules laid down for him to his prejudice. thus a pigeon would starve near a dish of the best flesh-meat, and a cat on a heap of fruit or corn, though both might very well support life with the food which they thus disdain, did they but bethink themselves to make a trial of it: it is in this manner dissolute men run into excesses, which bring on fevers and death itself; because the mind depraves the senses, and when nature ceases to speak, the will still continues to dictate. all animals must be allowed to have ideas, since all animals have senses; they even combine their ideas to a certain degree, and, in this respect, it is only the difference of such degree, that constitutes the difference between man and beast: some philosophers have even advanced, that there is a greater difference between some men and some others, than between some men and some beasts; it is not therefore so much the understanding that constitutes, among animals, the specifical distinction of man, as his quality of a free agent. nature speaks to all animals, and beasts obey her voice. man feels the same impression, but he at the same time perceives that he is free to resist or to acquiesce; and it is in the consciousness of this liberty, that the spirituality of his soul chiefly appears: for natural philosophy explains, in some measure, the mechanism of the senses and the formation of ideas; but in the power of willing, or rather of choosing, and in the consciousness of this power, nothing can be discovered but acts, that are purely spiritual, and cannot be accounted for by the laws of mechanics. but though the difficulties, in which all these questions are involved, should leave some room to dispute on this difference between man and beast, there is another very specific quality that distinguishes them, and a quality which will admit of no dispute; this is the faculty of improvement; a faculty which, as circumstances offer, successively unfolds all the other faculties, and resides among us not only in the species, but in the individuals that compose it; whereas a beast is, at the end of some months, all he ever will be during the rest of his life; and his species, at the end of a thousand years, precisely what it was the first year of that long period. why is man alone subject to dotage? is it not, because he thus returns to his primitive condition? and because, while the beast, which has acquired nothing and has likewise nothing to lose, continues always in possession of his instinct, man, losing by old age, or by accident, all the acquisitions he had made in consequence of his perfectibility, thus falls back even lower than beasts themselves? it would be a melancholy necessity for us to be obliged to allow, that this distinctive and almost unlimited faculty is the source of all man's misfortunes; that it is this faculty, which, though by slow degrees, draws them out of their original condition, in which his days would slide away insensibly in peace and innocence; that it is this faculty, which, in a succession of ages, produces his discoveries and mistakes, his virtues and his vices, and, at long run, renders him both his own and nature's tyrant. it would be shocking to be obliged to commend, as a beneficent being, whoever he was that first suggested to the _oronoco_ indians the use of those boards which they bind on the temples of their children, and which secure to them the enjoyment of some part at least of their natural imbecility and happiness. savage man, abandoned by nature to pure instinct, or rather indemnified for that which has perhaps been denied to him by faculties capable of immediately supplying the place of it, and of raising him afterwards a great deal higher, would therefore begin with functions that were merely animal: to see and to feel would be his first condition, which he would enjoy in common with other animals. to will and not to will, to wish and to fear, would be the first, and in a manner, the only operations of his soul, till new circumstances occasioned new developments. let moralists say what they will, the human understanding is greatly indebted to the passions, which, on their side, are likewise universally allowed to be greatly indebted to the human understanding. it is by the activity of our passions, that our reason improves: we covet knowledge merely because we covet enjoyment, and it is impossible to conceive why a man exempt from fears and desires should take the trouble to reason. the passions, in their turn, owe their origin to our wants, and their increase to our progress in science; for we cannot desire or fear anything, but in consequence of the ideas we have of it, or of the simple impulses of nature; and savage man, destitute of every species of knowledge, experiences no passions but those of this last kind; his desires never extend beyond his physical wants; he knows no goods but food, a female, and rest; he fears no evil but pain, and hunger; i say pain, and not death; for no animal, merely as such, will ever know what it is to die, and the knowledge of death, and of its terrors, is one of the first acquisitions made by man, in consequence of his deviating from the animal state. i could easily, were it requisite, cite facts in support of this opinion, and show, that the progress of the mind has everywhere kept pace exactly with the wants, to which nature had left the inhabitants exposed, or to which circumstances had subjected them, and consequently to the passions, which inclined them to provide for these wants. i could exhibit in egypt the arts starting up, and extending themselves with the inundations of the nile; i could pursue them in their progress among the greeks, where they were seen to bud forth, grow, and rise to the heavens, in the midst of the sands and rocks of attica, without being able to take root on the fertile banks of the eurotas; i would observe that, in general, the inhabitants of the north are more industrious than those of the south, because they can less do without industry; as if nature thus meant to make all things equal, by giving to the mind that fertility she has denied to the soil. but exclusive of the uncertain testimonies of history, who does not perceive that everything seems to remove from savage man the temptation and the means of altering his condition? his imagination paints nothing to him; his heart asks nothing from him. his moderate wants are so easily supplied with what he everywhere finds ready to his hand, and he stands at such a distance from the degree of knowledge requisite to covet more, that he can neither have foresight nor curiosity. the spectacle of nature, by growing quite familiar to him, becomes at last equally indifferent. it is constantly the same order, constantly the same revolutions; he has not sense enough to feel surprise at the sight of the greatest wonders; and it is not in his mind we must look for that philosophy, which man must have to know how to observe once, what he has every day seen. his soul, which nothing disturbs, gives itself up entirely to the consciousness of its actual existence, without any thought of even the nearest futurity; and his projects, equally confined with his views, scarce extend to the end of the day. such is, even at present, the degree of foresight in the caribbean: he sells his cotton bed in the morning, and comes in the evening, with tears in his eyes, to buy it back, not having foreseen that he should want it again the next night. the more we meditate on this subject, the wider does the distance between mere sensation and the most simple knowledge become in our eyes; and it is impossible to conceive how man, by his own powers alone, without the assistance of communication, and the spur of necessity, could have got over so great an interval. how many ages perhaps revolved, before men beheld any other fire but that of the heavens? how many different accidents must have concurred to make them acquainted with the most common uses of this element? how often have they let it go out, before they knew the art of reproducing it? and how often perhaps has not every one of these secrets perished with the discoverer? what shall we say of agriculture, an art which requires so much labour and foresight; which depends upon other arts; which, it is very evident, cannot be practised but in a society, if not a formed one, at least one of some standing, and which does not so much serve to draw aliments from the earth, for the earth would yield them without all that trouble, as to oblige her to produce those things, which we like best, preferably to others? but let us suppose that men had multiplied to such a degree, that the natural products of the earth no longer sufficed for their support; a supposition which, by the bye, would prove that this kind of life would be very advantageous to the human species; let us suppose that, without forge or anvil, the instruments of husbandry had dropped from the heavens into the hands of savages, that these men had got the better of that mortal aversion they all have for constant labour; that they had learned to foretell their wants at so great a distance of time; that they had guessed exactly how they were to break the earth, commit their seed to it, and plant trees; that they had found out the art of grinding their corn, and improving by fermentation the juice of their grapes; all operations which we must allow them to have learned from the gods, since we cannot conceive how they should make such discoveries of themselves; after all these fine presents, what man would be mad enough to cultivate a field, that may be robbed by the first comer, man or beast, who takes a fancy to the produce of it. and would any man consent to spend his day in labour and fatigue, when the rewards of his labour and fatigue became more and more precarious in proportion to his want of them? in a word, how could this situation engage men to cultivate the earth, as long as it was not parcelled out among them, that is, as long as a state of nature subsisted. though we should suppose savage man as well versed in the art of thinking, as philosophers make him; though we were, after them, to make him a philosopher himself, discovering of himself the sublimest truths, forming to himself, by the most abstract arguments, maxims of justice and reason drawn from the love of order in general, or from the known will of his creator: in a word, though we were to suppose his mind as intelligent and enlightened, as it must, and is, in fact, found to be dull and stupid; what benefit would the species receive from all these metaphysical discoveries, which could not be communicated, but must perish with the individual who had made them? what progress could mankind make in the forests, scattered up and down among the other animals? and to what degree could men mutually improve and enlighten each other, when they had no fixed habitation, nor any need of each other's assistance; when the same persons scarcely met twice in their whole lives, and on meeting neither spoke to, or so much as knew each other? let us consider how many ideas we owe to the use of speech; how much grammar exercises, and facilitates the operations of the mind; let us, besides, reflect on the immense pains and time that the first invention of languages must have required: let us add these reflections to the preceding; and then we may judge how many thousand ages must have been requisite to develop successively the operations, which the human mind is capable of producing. i must now beg leave to stop one moment to consider the perplexities attending the origin of languages. i might here barely cite or repeat the researches made, in relation to this question, by the abbe de condillac, which all fully confirm my system, and perhaps even suggested to me the first idea of it. but, as the manner, in which the philosopher resolves the difficulties of his own starting, concerning the origin of arbitrary signs, shows that he supposes, what i doubt, namely a kind of society already established among the inventors of languages; i think it my duty, at the same time that i refer to his reflections, to give my own, in order to expose the same difficulties in a light suitable to my subject. the first that offers is how languages could become necessary; for as there was no correspondence between men, nor the least necessity for any, there is no conceiving the necessity of this invention, nor the possibility of it, if it was not indispensable. i might say, with many others, that languages are the fruit of the domestic intercourse between fathers, mothers, and children: but this, besides its not answering any difficulties, would be committing the same fault with those, who reasoning on the state of nature, transfer to it ideas collected in society, always consider families as living together under one roof, and their members as observing among themselves an union, equally intimate and permanent with that which we see exist in a civil state, where so many common interests conspire to unite them; whereas in this primitive state, as there were neither houses nor cabins, nor any kind of property, every one took up his lodging at random, and seldom continued above one night in the same place; males and females united without any premeditated design, as chance, occasion, or desire brought them together, nor had they any great occasion for language to make known their thoughts to each other. they parted with the same ease. the mother suckled her children, when just born, for her own sake; but afterwards out of love and affection to them, when habit and custom had made them dear to her; but they no sooner gained strength enough to run about in quest of food than they separated even from her of their own accord; and as they scarce had any other method of not losing each other, than that of remaining constantly in each other's sight, they soon came to such a pass of forgetfulness, as not even to know each other, when they happened to meet again. i must further observe that the child having all his wants to explain, and consequently more things to say to his mother, than the mother can have to say to him, it is he that must be at the chief expense of invention, and the language he makes use of must be in a great measure his own work; this makes the number of languages equal to that of the individuals who are to speak them; and this multiplicity of languages is further increased by their roving and vagabond kind of life, which allows no idiom time enough to acquire any consistency; for to say that the mother would have dictated to the child the words he must employ to ask her this thing and that, may well enough explain in what manner languages, already formed, are taught, but it does not show us in what manner they are first formed. let us suppose this first difficulty conquered: let us for a moment consider ourselves at this side of the immense space, which must have separated the pure state of nature from that in which languages became necessary, and let us, after allowing such necessity, examine how languages could begin to be established. a new difficulty this, still more stubborn than the preceding; for if men stood in need of speech to learn to think, they must have stood in still greater need of the art of thinking to invent that of speaking; and though we could conceive how the sounds of the voice came to be taken for the conventional interpreters of our ideas we should not be the nearer knowing who could have been the interpreters of this convention for such ideas, as, in consequence of their not having any sensible objects, could not be made manifest by gesture or voice; so that we can scarce form any tolerable conjectures concerning the birth of this art of communicating our thoughts, and establishing a correspondence between minds: a sublime art which, though so remote from its origin, philosophers still behold at such a prodigious distance from its perfection, that i never met with one of them bold enough to affirm it would ever arrive there, though the revolutions necessarily produced by time were suspended in its favour; though prejudice could be banished from, or would be at least content to sit silent in the presence of our academies, and though these societies should consecrate themselves, entirely and during whole ages, to the study of this intricate object. the first language of man, the most universal and most energetic of all languages, in short, the only language he had occasion for, before there was a necessity of persuading assembled multitudes, was the cry of nature. as this cry was never extorted but by a kind of instinct in the most urgent cases, to implore assistance in great danger, or relief in great sufferings, it was of little use in the common occurrences of life, where more moderate sentiments generally prevail. when the ideas of men began to extend and multiply, and a closer communication began to take place among them, they laboured to devise more numerous signs, and a more extensive language: they multiplied the inflections of the voice, and added to them gestures, which are, in their own nature, more expressive, and whose meaning depends less on any prior determination. they therefore expressed visible and movable objects by gestures and those which strike the ear, by imitative sounds: but as gestures scarcely indicate anything except objects that are actually present or can be easily described, and visible actions; as they are not of general use, since darkness or the interposition of an opaque medium renders them useless; and as besides they require attention rather than excite it: men at length bethought themselves of substituting for them the articulations of voice, which, without having the same relation to any determinate object, are, in quality of instituted signs, fitter to represent all our ideas; a substitution, which could only have been made by common consent, and in a manner pretty difficult to practise by men, whose rude organs were unimproved by exercise; a substitution, which is in itself more difficult to be conceived, since the motives to this unanimous agreement must have been somehow or another expressed, and speech therefore appears to have been exceedingly requisite to establish the use of speech. we must allow that the words, first made use of by men, had in their minds a much more extensive signification, than those employed in languages of some standing, and that, considering how ignorant they were of the division of speech into its constituent parts; they at first gave every word the meaning of an entire proposition. when afterwards they began to perceive the difference between the subject and attribute, and between verb and noun, a distinction which required no mean effort of genius, the substantives for a time were only so many proper names, the infinitive was the only tense, and as to adjectives, great difficulties must have attended the development of the idea that represents them, since every adjective is an abstract word, and abstraction is an unnatural and very painful operation. at first they gave every object a peculiar name, without any regard to its genus or species, things which these first institutors of language were in no condition to distinguish; and every individual presented itself solitary to their minds, as it stands in the table of nature. if they called one oak a, they called another oak b: so that their dictionary must have been more extensive in proportion as their knowledge of things was more confined. it could not but be a very difficult task to get rid of so diffuse and embarrassing a nomenclature; as in order to marshal the several beings under common and generic denominations, it was necessary to be first acquainted with their properties, and their differences; to be stocked with observations and definitions, that is to say, to understand natural history and metaphysics, advantages which the men of these times could not have enjoyed. besides, general ideas cannot be conveyed to the mind without the assistance of words, nor can the understanding seize them without the assistance of propositions. this is one of the reasons, why mere animals cannot form such ideas, nor ever acquire the perfectibility which depends on such an operation. when a monkey leaves without the least hesitation one nut for another, are we to think he has any general idea of that kind of fruit, and that he compares these two individual bodies with his archetype notion of them? no, certainly; but the sight of one of these nuts calls back to his memory the sensations which he has received from the other; and his eyes, modified after some certain manner, give notice to his palate of the modification it is in its turn going to receive. every general idea is purely intellectual; let the imagination tamper ever so little with it, it immediately becomes a particular idea. endeavour to represent to yourself the image of a tree in general, you never will be able to do it; in spite of all your efforts it will appear big or little, thin or tufted, of a bright or a deep colour; and were you master to see nothing in it, but what can be seen in every tree, such a picture would no longer resemble any tree. beings perfectly abstract are perceivable in the same manner, or are only conceivable by the assistance of speech. the definition of a triangle can alone give you a just idea of that figure: the moment you form a triangle in your mind, it is this or that particular triangle and no other, and you cannot avoid giving breadth to its lines and colour to its area. we must therefore make use of propositions; we must therefore speak to have general ideas; for the moment the imagination stops, the mind must stop too, if not assisted by speech. if therefore the first inventors could give no names to any ideas but those they had already, it follows that the first substantives could never have been anything more than proper names. but when by means, which i cannot conceive, our new grammarians began to extend their ideas, and generalize their words, the ignorance of the inventors must have confined this method to very narrow bounds; and as they had at first too much multiplied the names of individuals for want of being acquainted with the distinctions called genus and species, they afterwards made too few genera and species for want of having considered beings in all their differences; to push the divisions far enough, they must have had more knowledge and experience than we can allow them, and have made more researches and taken more pains, than we can suppose them willing to submit to. now if, even at this present time, we every day discover new species, which had before escaped all our observations, how many species must have escaped the notice of men, who judged of things merely from their first appearances! as to the primitive classes and the most general notions, it were superfluous to add that these they must have likewise overlooked: how, for example, could they have thought of or understood the words, matter, spirit, substance, mode, figure, motion, since even our philosophers, who for so long a time have been constantly employing these terms, can themselves scarcely understand them, and since the ideas annexed to these words being purely metaphysical, no models of them could be found in nature? i stop at these first advances, and beseech my judges to suspend their lecture a little, in order to consider, what a great way language has still to go, in regard to the invention of physical substantives alone, (though the easiest part of language to invent,) to be able to express all the sentiments of man, to assume an invariable form, to bear being spoken in public and to influence society: i earnestly entreat them to consider how much time and knowledge must have been requisite to find out numbers, abstract words, the aorists, and all the other tenses of verbs, the particles, and syntax, the method of connecting propositions and arguments, of forming all the logic of discourse. for my own part, i am so scared at the difficulties that multiply at every step, and so convinced of the almost demonstrated impossibility of languages owing their birth and establishment to means that were merely human, that i must leave to whoever may please to take it up, the task of discussing this difficult problem. "which was the most necessary, society already formed to invent languages, or languages already invented to form society?" but be the case of these origins ever so mysterious, we may at least infer from the little care which nature has taken to bring men together by mutual wants, and make the use of speech easy to them, how little she has done towards making them sociable, and how little she has contributed to anything which they themselves have done to become so. in fact, it is impossible to conceive, why, in this primitive state, one man should have more occasion for the assistance of another, than one monkey, or one wolf for that of another animal of the same species; or supposing that he had, what motive could induce another to assist him; or even, in this last case, how he, who wanted assistance, and he from whom it was wanted, could agree among themselves upon the conditions. authors, i know, are continually telling us, that in this state man would have been a most miserable creature; and if it is true, as i fancy i have proved it, that he must have continued many ages without either the desire or the opportunity of emerging from such a state, this their assertion could only serve to justify a charge against nature, and not any against the being which nature had thus constituted; but, if i thoroughly understand this term miserable, it is a word, that either has no meaning, or signifies nothing, but a privation attended with pain, and a suffering state of body or soul; now i would fain know what kind of misery can be that of a free being, whose heart enjoys perfect peace, and body perfect health? and which is aptest to become insupportable to those who enjoy it, a civil or a natural life? in civil life we can scarcely meet a single person who does not complain of his existence; many even throw away as much of it as they can, and the united force of divine and human laws can hardly put bounds to this disorder. was ever any free savage known to have been so much as tempted to complain of life, and lay violent hands on himself? let us therefore judge with less pride on which side real misery is to be placed. nothing, on the contrary, must have been so unhappy as savage man, dazzled by flashes of knowledge, racked by passions, and reasoning on a state different from that in which he saw himself placed. it was in consequence of a very wise providence, that the faculties, which he potentially enjoyed, were not to develop themselves but in proportion as there offered occasions to exercise them, lest they should be superfluous or troublesome to him when he did not want them, or tardy and useless when he did. he had in his instinct alone everything requisite to live in a state of nature; in his cultivated reason he has barely what is necessary to live in a state of society. it appears at first sight that, as there was no kind of moral relations between men in this state, nor any known duties, they could not be either good or bad, and had neither vices nor virtues, unless we take these words in a physical sense, and call vices, in the individual, the qualities which may prove detrimental to his own preservation, and virtues those which may contribute to it; in which case we should be obliged to consider him as most virtuous, who made least resistance against the simple impulses of nature. but without deviating from the usual meaning of these terms, it is proper to suspend the judgment we might form of such a situation, and be upon our guard against prejudice, till, the balance in hand, we have examined whether there are more virtues or vices among civilized men; or whether the improvement of their understanding is sufficient to compensate the damage which they mutually do to each other, in proportion as they become better informed of the services which they ought to do; or whether, upon the whole, they would not be much happier in a condition, where they had nothing to fear or to hope from each other, than in that where they had submitted to an universal subserviency, and have obliged themselves to depend for everything upon the good will of those, who do not think themselves obliged to give anything in return. but above all things let us beware concluding with hobbes, that man, as having no idea of goodness, must be naturally bad; that he is vicious because he does not know what virtue is; that he always refuses to do any service to those of his own species, because he believes that none is due to them; that, in virtue of that right which he justly claims to everything he wants, he foolishly looks upon himself as proprietor of the whole universe. hobbes very plainly saw the flaws in all the modern definitions of natural right: but the consequences, which he draws from his own definition, show that it is, in the sense he understands it, equally exceptionable. this author, to argue from his own principles, should say that the state of nature, being that where the care of our own preservation interferes least with the preservation of others, was of course the most favourable to peace, and most suitable to mankind; whereas he advances the very reverse in consequence of his having injudiciously admitted, as objects of that care which savage man should take of his preservation, the satisfaction of numberless passions which are the work of society, and have rendered laws necessary. a bad man, says he, is a robust child. but this is not proving that savage man is a robust child; and though we were to grant that he was, what could this philosopher infer from such a concession? that if this man, when robust, depended on others as much as when feeble, there is no excess that he would not be guilty of. he would make nothing of striking his mother when she delayed ever so little to give him the breast; he would claw, and bite, and strangle without remorse the first of his younger brothers, that ever so accidentally jostled or otherwise disturbed him. but these are two contradictory suppositions in the state of nature, to be robust and dependent. man is weak when dependent, and his own master before he grows robust. hobbes did not consider that the same cause, which hinders savages from making use of their reason, as our jurisconsults pretend, hinders them at the same time from making an ill use of their faculties, as he himself pretends; so that we may say that savages are not bad, precisely because they don't know what it is to be good; for it is neither the development of the understanding, nor the curb of the law, but the calmness of their passions and their ignorance of vice that hinders them from doing ill: _tantus plus in illis proficit vitiorum ignorantia, quam in his cognito virtutis_. there is besides another principle that has escaped hobbes, and which, having been given to man to moderate, on certain occasions, the blind and impetuous sallies of self-love, or the desire of self-preservation previous to the appearance of that passion, allays the ardour, with which he naturally pursues his private welfare, by an innate abhorrence to see beings suffer that resemble him. i shall not surely be contradicted, in granting to man the only natural virtue, which the most passionate detractor of human virtues could not deny him, i mean that of pity, a disposition suitable to creatures weak as we are, and liable to so many evils; a virtue so much the more universal, and withal useful to man, as it takes place in him of all manner of reflection; and so natural, that the beasts themselves sometimes give evident signs of it. not to speak of the tenderness of mothers for their young; and of the dangers they face to screen them from danger; with what reluctance are horses known to trample upon living bodies; one animal never passes unmoved by the dead carcass of another animal of the same species: there are even some who bestow a kind of sepulture upon their dead fellows; and the mournful lowings of cattle, on their entering the slaughter-house, publish the impression made upon them by the horrible spectacle they are there struck with. it is with pleasure we see the author of the fable of the bees, forced to acknowledge man a compassionate and sensible being; and lay aside, in the example he offers to confirm it, his cold and subtle style, to place before us the pathetic picture of a man, who, with his hands tied up, is obliged to behold a beast of prey tear a child from the arms of his mother, and then with his teeth grind the tender limbs, and with his claws rend the throbbing entrails of the innocent victim. what horrible emotions must not such a spectator experience at the sight of an event which does not personally concern him? what anguish must he not suffer at his not being able to assist the fainting mother or the expiring infant? such is the pure motion of nature, anterior to all manner of reflection; such is the force of natural pity, which the most dissolute manners have as yet found it so difficult to extinguish, since we every day see, in our theatrical representation, those men sympathize with the unfortunate and weep at their sufferings, who, if in the tyrant's place, would aggravate the torments of their enemies. mandeville was very sensible that men, in spite of all their morality, would never have been better than monsters, if nature had not given them pity to assist reason: but he did not perceive that from this quality alone flow all the social virtues, which he would dispute mankind the possession of. in fact, what is generosity, what clemency, what humanity, but pity applied to the weak, to the guilty, or to the human species in general? even benevolence and friendship, if we judge right, will appear the effects of a constant pity, fixed upon a particular object: for to wish that a person may not suffer, what is it but to wish that he may be happy? though it were true that commiseration is no more than a sentiment, which puts us in the place of him who suffers, a sentiment obscure but active in the savage, developed but dormant in civilized man, how could this notion affect the truth of what i advance, but to make it more evident. in fact, commiseration must be so much the more energetic, the more intimately the animal, that beholds any kind of distress, identifies himself with the animal that labours under it. now it is evident that this identification must have been infinitely more perfect in the state of nature than in the state of reason. it is reason that engenders self-love, and reflection that strengthens it; it is reason that makes man shrink into himself; it is reason that makes him keep aloof from everything that can trouble or afflict him: it is philosophy that destroys his connections with other men; it is in consequence of her dictates that he mutters to himself at the sight of another in distress, you may perish for aught i care, nothing can hurt me. nothing less than those evils, which threaten the whole species, can disturb the calm sleep of the philosopher, and force him from his bed. one man may with impunity murder another under his windows; he has nothing to do but clap his hands to his ears, argue a little with himself to hinder nature, that startles within him, from identifying him with the unhappy sufferer. savage man wants this admirable talent; and for want of wisdom and reason, is always ready foolishly to obey the first whispers of humanity. in riots and street-brawls the populace flock together, the prudent man sneaks off. they are the dregs of the people, the poor basket and barrow-women, that part the combatants, and hinder gentle folks from cutting one another's throats. it is therefore certain that pity is a natural sentiment, which, by moderating in every individual the activity of self-love, contributes to the mutual preservation of the whole species. it is this pity which hurries us without reflection to the assistance of those we see in distress; it is this pity which, in a state of nature, stands for laws, for manners, for virtue, with this advantage, that no one is tempted to disobey her sweet and gentle voice: it is this pity which will always hinder a robust savage from plundering a feeble child, or infirm old man, of the subsistence they have acquired with pain and difficulty, if he has but the least prospect of providing for himself by any other means: it is this pity which, instead of that sublime maxim of argumentative justice, do to others as you would have others do to you, inspires all men with that other maxim of natural goodness a great deal less perfect, but perhaps more useful, consult your own happiness with as little prejudice as you can to that of others. it is in a word, in this natural sentiment, rather than in fine-spun arguments, that we must look for the cause of that reluctance which every man would experience to do evil, even independently of the maxims of education. though it may be the peculiar happiness of socrates and other geniuses of his stamp, to reason themselves into virtue, the human species would long ago have ceased to exist, had it depended entirely for its preservation on the reasonings of the individuals that compose it. with passions so tame, and so salutary a curb, men, rather wild than wicked, and more attentive to guard against mischief than to do any to other animals, were not exposed to any dangerous dissensions: as they kept up no manner of correspondence with each other, and were of course strangers to vanity, to respect, to esteem, to contempt; as they had no notion of what we call meum and tuum, nor any true idea of justice; as they considered any violence they were liable to, as an evil that could be easily repaired, and not as an injury that deserved punishment; and as they never so much as dreamed of revenge, unless perhaps mechanically and unpremeditatedly, as a dog who bites the stone that has been thrown at him; their disputes could seldom be attended with bloodshed, were they never occasioned by a more considerable stake than that of subsistence: but there is a more dangerous subject of contention, which i must not leave unnoticed. among the passions which ruffle the heart of man, there is one of a hot and impetuous nature, which renders the sexes necessary to each other; a terrible passion which despises all dangers, bears down all obstacles, and to which in its transports it seems proper to destroy the human species which it is destined to preserve. what must become of men abandoned to this lawless and brutal rage, without modesty, without shame, and every day disputing the objects of their passion at the expense of their blood? we must in the first place allow that the more violent the passions, the more necessary are laws to restrain them: but besides that the disorders and the crimes, to which these passions daily give rise among us, sufficiently grove the insufficiency of laws for that purpose, we would do well to look back a little further and examine, if these evils did not spring up with the laws themselves; for at this rate, though the laws were capable of repressing these evils, it is the least that might be expected from them, seeing it is no more than stopping the progress of a mischief which they themselves have produced. let us begin by distinguishing between what is moral and what is physical in the passion called love. the physical part of it is that general desire which prompts the sexes to unite with each other; the moral part is that which determines that desire, and fixes it upon a particular object to the exclusion of all others, or at least gives it a greater degree of energy for this preferred object. now it is easy to perceive that the moral part of love is a factitious sentiment, engendered by society, and cried up by the women with great care and address in order to establish their empire, and secure command to that sex which ought to obey. this sentiment, being founded on certain notions of beauty and merit which a savage is not capable of having, and upon comparisons which he is not capable of making, can scarcely exist in him: for as his mind was never in a condition to form abstract ideas of regularity and proportion, neither is his heart susceptible of sentiments of admiration and love, which, even without our perceiving it, are produced by our application of these ideas; he listens solely to the dispositions implanted in him by nature, and not to taste which he never was in a way of acquiring; and every woman answers his purpose. confined entirely to what is physical in love, and happy enough not to know these preferences which sharpen the appetite for it, at the same time that they increase the difficulty of satisfying such appetite, men, in a state of nature, must be subject to fewer and less violent fits of that passion, and of course there must be fewer and less violent disputes among them in consequence of it. the imagination which causes so many ravages among us, never speaks to the heart of savages, who peaceably wait for the impulses of nature, yield to these impulses without choice and with more pleasure than fury; and whose desires never outlive their necessity for the thing desired. nothing therefore can be more evident, than that it is society alone, which has added even to love itself as well as to all the other passions, that impetuous ardour, which so often renders it fatal to mankind; and it is so much the more ridiculous to represent savages constantly murdering each other to glut their brutality, as this opinion is diametrically opposite to experience, and the caribbeans, the people in the world who have as yet deviated least from the state of nature, are to all intents and purposes the most peaceable in their amours, and the least subject to jealousy, though they live in a burning climate which seems always to add considerably to the activity of these passions. as to the inductions which may be drawn, in respect to several species of animals, from the battles of the males, who in all seasons cover our poultry yards with blood, and in spring particularly cause our forests to ring again with the noise they make in disputing their females, we must begin by excluding all those species, where nature has evidently established, in the relative power of the sexes, relations different from those which exist among us: thus from the battle of cocks we can form no induction that will affect the human species. in the species, where the proportion is better observed, these battles must be owing entirely to the fewness of the females compared with the males, or, which is all one, to the exclusive intervals, during which the females constantly refuse the addresses of the males; for if the female admits the male but two months in the year, it is all the same as if the number of females were five-sixths less than what it is: now neither of these cases is applicable to the human species, where the number of females generally surpasses that of males, and where it has never been observed that, even among savages, the females had, like those of other animals, stated times of passion and indifference, besides, among several of these animals the whole species takes fire all at once, and for some days nothing is, to be seen among them but confusion, tumult, disorder and bloodshed; a state unknown to the human species where love is never periodical. we can not therefore conclude from the battles of certain animals for the possession of their females, that the same would be the case of man in a state of nature; and though we might, as these contests do not destroy the other species, there is at least equal room to think they would not be fatal to ours; nay it is very probable that they would cause fewer ravages than they do in society, especially in those countries where, morality being as yet held in some esteem, the jealousy of lovers, and the vengeance of husbands every day produce duels, murders and even worse crimes; where the duty of an eternal fidelity serves only to propagate adultery; and the very laws of continence and honour necessarily contribute to increase dissoluteness, and multiply abortions. let us conclude that savage man, wandering about in the forests, without industry, without speech, without any fixed residence, an equal stranger to war and every social connection, without standing in any shape in need of his fellows, as well as without any desire of hurting them, and perhaps even without ever distinguishing them individually one from the other, subject to few passions, and finding in himself all he wants, let us, i say, conclude that savage man thus circumstanced had no knowledge or sentiment but such as are proper to that condition, that he was alone sensible of his real necessities, took notice of nothing but what it was his interest to see, and that his understanding made as little progress as his vanity. if he happened to make any discovery, he could the less communicate it as he did not even know his children. the art perished with the inventor; there was neither education nor improvement; generations succeeded generations to no purpose; and as all constantly set out from the same point, whole centuries rolled on in the rudeness and barbarity of the first age; the species was grown old, while the individual still remained in a state of childhood. if i have enlarged so much upon the supposition of this primitive condition, it is because i thought it my duty, considering what ancient errors and inveterate prejudices i have to extirpate, to dig to the very roots, and show in a true picture of the state of nature, how much even natural inequality falls short in this state of that reality and influence which our writers ascribe to it. in fact, we may easily perceive that among the differences, which distinguish men, several pass for natural, which are merely the work of habit and the different kinds of life adopted by men living in a social way. thus a robust or delicate constitution, and the strength and weakness which depend on it, are oftener produced by the hardy or effeminate manner in which a man has been brought up, than by the primitive constitution of his body. it is the same thus in regard to the forces of the mind; and education not only produces a difference between those minds which are cultivated and those which are not, but even increases that which is found among the first in proportion to their culture; for let a giant and a dwarf set out in the same path, the giant at every step will acquire a new advantage over the dwarf. now, if we compare the prodigious variety in the education and manner of living of the different orders of men in a civil state, with the simplicity and uniformity that prevails in the animal and savage life, where all the individuals make use of the same aliments, live in the same manner, and do exactly the same things, we shall easily conceive how much the difference between man and man in the state of nature must be less than in the state of society, and how much every inequality of institution must increase the natural inequalities of the human species. but though nature in the distribution of her gifts should really affect all the preferences that are ascribed to her, what advantage could the most favoured derive from her partiality, to the prejudice of others, in a state of things, which scarce admitted any kind of relation between her pupils? of what service can beauty be, where there is no love? what will wit avail people who don't speak, or craft those who have no affairs to transact? authors are constantly crying out, that the strongest would oppress the weakest; but let them explain what they mean by the word oppression. one man will rule with violence, another will groan under a constant subjection to all his caprices: this is indeed precisely what i observe among us, but i don't see how it can be said of savage men, into whose heads it would be a harder matter to drive even the meaning of the words domination and servitude. one man might, indeed, seize on the fruits which another had gathered, on the game which another had killed, on the cavern which another had occupied for shelter; but how is it possible he should ever exact obedience from him, and what chains of dependence can there be among men who possess nothing? if i am driven from one tree, i have nothing to do but look out for another; if one place is made uneasy to me, what can hinder me from taking up my quarters elsewhere? but suppose i should meet a man so much superior to me in strength, and withal so wicked, so lazy and so barbarous as to oblige me to provide for his subsistence while he remains idle; he must resolve not to take his eyes from me a single moment, to bind me fast before he can take the least nap, lest i should kill him or give him the slip during his sleep: that is to say, he must expose himself voluntarily to much greater troubles than what he seeks to avoid, than any he gives me. and after all, let him abate ever so little of his vigilance; let him at some sudden noise but turn his head another way; i am already buried in the forest, my fetters are broke, and he never sees me again. but without insisting any longer upon these details, every one must see that, as the bonds of servitude are formed merely by the mutual dependence of men one upon another and the reciprocal necessities which unite them, it is impossible for one man to enslave another, without having first reduced him to a condition in which he can not live without the enslaver's assistance; a condition which, as it does not exist in a state of nature, must leave every man his own master, and render the law of the strongest altogether vain and useless. having proved that the inequality, which may subsist between man and man in a state of nature, is almost imperceivable, and that it has very little influence, i must now proceed to show its origin, and trace its progress, in the successive developments of the human mind. after having showed, that perfectibility, the social virtues, and the other faculties, which natural man had received _in potentia_, could never be developed of themselves, that for that purpose there was a necessity for the fortuitous concurrence of several foreign causes, which might never happen, and without which he must have eternally remained in his primitive condition; i must proceed to consider and bring together the different accidents which may have perfected the human understanding by debasing the species, render a being wicked by rendering him sociable, and from so remote a term bring man at last and the world to the point in which we now see them. i must own that, as the events i am about to describe might have happened many different ways, my choice of these i shall assign can be grounded on nothing but mere conjecture; but besides these conjectures becoming reasons, when they are not only the most probable that can be drawn from the nature of things, but the only means we can have of discovering truth, the consequences i mean to deduce from mine will not be merely conjectural, since, on the principles i have just established, it is impossible to form any other system, that would not supply me with the same results, and from which i might not draw the same conclusions. this will authorize me to be the more concise in my reflections on the manner, in which the lapse of time makes amends for the little verisimilitude of events; on the surprising power of very trivial causes, when they act without intermission; on the impossibility there is on the one hand of destroying certain hypotheses, if on the other we can not give them the degree of certainty which facts must be allowed to possess; on its being the business of history, when two facts are proposed, as real, to be connected by a chain of intermediate facts which are either unknown or considered as such, to furnish such facts as may actually connect them; and the business of philosophy, when history is silent, to point out similar facts which may answer the same purpose; in fine on the privilege of similitude, in regard to events, to reduce facts to a much smaller number of different classes than is generally imagined. it suffices me to offer these objects to the consideration of my judges; it suffices me to have conducted my inquiry in such a manner as to save common readers the trouble of considering them. second part the first man, who, after enclosing a piece of ground, took it into his head to say, "this is mine," and found people simple enough to believe him, was the true founder of civil society. how many crimes, how many wars, how many murders, how many misfortunes and horrors, would that man have saved the human species, who pulling up the stakes or filling up the ditches should have cried to his fellows: be sure not to listen to this imposter; you are lost, if you forget that the fruits of the earth belong equally to us all, and the earth itself to nobody! but it is highly probable that things were now come to such a pass, that they could not continue much longer in the same way; for as this idea of property depends on several prior ideas which could only spring up gradually one after another, it was not formed all at once in the human mind: men must have made great progress; they must have acquired a great stock of industry and knowledge, and transmitted and increased it from age to age before they could arrive at this last term of the state of nature. let us therefore take up things a little higher, and collect into one point of view, and in their most natural order, this slow succession of events and mental improvements. the first sentiment of man was that of his existence, his first care that of preserving it. the productions of the earth yielded him all the assistance he required; instinct prompted him to make use of them. among the various appetites, which made him at different times experience different modes of existence, there was one that excited him to perpetuate his species; and this blind propensity, quite void of anything like pure love or affection, produced nothing but an act that was merely animal. the present heat once allayed, the sexes took no further notice of each other, and even the child ceased to have any tie in his mother, the moment he ceased to want her assistance. such was the condition of infant man; such was the life of an animal confined at first to pure sensations, and so far from harbouring any thought of forcing her gifts from nature, that he scarcely availed himself of those which she offered to him of her own accord. but difficulties soon arose, and there was a necessity for learning how to surmount them: the height of some trees, which prevented his reaching their fruits; the competition of other animals equally fond of the same fruits; the fierceness of many that even aimed at his life; these were so many circumstances, which obliged him to apply to bodily exercise. there was a necessity for becoming active, swift-footed, and sturdy in battle. the natural arms, which are stones and the branches of trees, soon offered themselves to his assistance. he learned to surmount the obstacles of nature, to contend in case of necessity with other animals, to dispute his subsistence even with other men, or indemnify himself for the loss of whatever he found himself obliged to part with to the strongest. in proportion as the human species grew more numerous, and extended itself, its pains likewise multiplied and increased. the difference of soils, climates and seasons, might have forced men to observe some difference in their way of living. bad harvests, long and severe winters, and scorching summers which parched up all the fruits of the earth, required extraordinary exertions of industry. on the sea shore, and the banks of rivers, they invented the line and the hook, and became fishermen and ichthyophagous. in the forests they made themselves bows and arrows, and became huntsmen and warriors. in the cold countries they covered themselves with the skins of the beasts they had killed; thunder, a volcano, or some happy accident made them acquainted with fire, a new resource against the rigours of winter: they discovered the method of preserving this element, then that of reproducing it, and lastly the way of preparing with it the flesh of animals, which heretofore they devoured raw from the carcass. this reiterated application of various beings to himself, and to one another, must have naturally engendered in the mind of man the idea of certain relations. these relations, which we express by the words, great, little, strong, weak, swift, slow, fearful, bold, and the like, compared occasionally, and almost without thinking of it, produced in him some kind of reflection, or rather a mechanical prudence, which pointed out to him the precautions most essential to his preservation and safety. the new lights resulting from this development increased his superiority over other animals, by making him sensible of it. he laid himself out to ensnare them; he played them a thousand tricks; and though several surpassed him in strength or in swiftness, he in time became the master of those that could be of any service to him, and a sore enemy to those that could do him any mischief. 'tis thus, that the first look he gave into himself produced the first emotion of pride in him; 'tis thus that, at a time he scarce knew how to distinguish between the different ranks of existence, by attributing to his species the first rank among animals in general, he prepared himself at a distance to pretend to it as an individual among those of his own species in particular. though other men were not to him what they are to us, and he had scarce more intercourse with them than with other animals, they were not overlooked in his observations. the conformities, which in time he might discover between them, and between himself and his female, made him judge of those he did not perceive; and seeing that they all behaved as himself would have done in similar circumstances, he concluded that their manner of thinking and willing was quite conformable to his own; and this important truth, when once engraved deeply on his mind, made him follow, by a presentiment as sure as any logic, and withal much quicker, the best rules of conduct, which for the sake of his own safety and advantage it was proper he should observe towards them. instructed by experience that the love of happiness is the sole principle of all human actions, he found himself in a condition to distinguish the few cases, in which common interest might authorize him to build upon the assistance of his fellows, and those still fewer, in which a competition of interests might justly render it suspected. in the first case he united with them in the same flock, or at most by some kind of free association which obliged none of its members, and lasted no longer than the transitory necessity that had given birth to it. in the second case every one aimed at his own private advantage, either by open force if he found himself strong enough, or by cunning and address if he thought himself too weak to use violence. such was the manner in which men might have insensibly acquired some gross idea of their mutual engagements and the advantage of fulfilling them, but this only as far as their present and sensible interest required; for as to foresight they were utter strangers to it, and far from troubling their heads about a distant futurity, they scarce thought of the day following. was a deer to be taken? every one saw that to succeed he must faithfully stand to his post; but suppose a hare to have slipped by within reach of any one of them, it is not to be doubted but he pursued it without scruple, and when he had seized his prey never reproached himself with having made his companions miss theirs. we may easily conceive that such an intercourse scarce required a more refined language than that of crows and monkeys, which flock together almost in the same manner. inarticulate exclamations, a great many gestures, and some imitative sounds, must have been for a long time the universal language of mankind, and by joining to these in every country some articulate and conventional sounds, of which, as i have already hinted, it is not very easy to explain the institution, there arose particular languages, but rude, imperfect, and such nearly as are to be found at this day among several savage nations. my pen straightened by the rapidity of time, the abundance of things i have to say, and the almost insensible progress of the first improvements, flies like an arrow over numberless ages, for the slower the succession of events, the quicker i may allow myself to be in relating them. at length, these first improvements enabled man to improve at a greater rate. industry grew perfect in proportion as the mind became more enlightened. men soon ceasing to fall asleep under the first tree, or take shelter in the first cavern, lit upon some hard and sharp kinds of stone resembling spades or hatchets, and employed them to dig the ground, cut down trees, and with the branches build huts, which they afterwards bethought themselves of plastering over with clay or dirt. this was the epoch of a first revolution, which produced the establishment and distinction of families, and which introduced a species of property, and along with it perhaps a thousand quarrels and battles. as the strongest however were probably the first to make themselves cabins, which they knew they were able to defend, we may conclude that the weak found it much shorter and safer to imitate than to attempt to dislodge them: and as to those, who were already provided with cabins, no one could have any great temptation to seize upon that of his neighbour, not so much because it did not belong to him, as because it could be of no service to him; and as besides to make himself master of it, he must expose himself to a very sharp conflict with the present occupiers. the first developments of the heart were the effects of a new situation, which united husbands and wives, parents and children, under one roof; the habit of living together gave birth to the sweetest sentiments the human species is acquainted with, conjugal and paternal love. every family became a little society, so much the more firmly united, as a mutual attachment and liberty were the only bonds of it; and it was now that the sexes, whose way of life had been hitherto the same, began to adopt different manners and customs. the women became more sedentary, and accustomed themselves to stay at home and look after the children, while the men rambled abroad in quest of subsistence for the whole family. the two sexes likewise by living a little more at their ease began to lose somewhat of their usual ferocity and sturdiness; but if on the one hand individuals became less able to engage separately with wild beasts, they on the other were more easily got together to make a common resistance against them. in this new state of things, the simplicity and solitariness of man's life, the limitedness of his wants, and the instruments which he had invented to satisfy them, leaving him a great deal of leisure, he employed it to supply himself with several conveniences unknown to his ancestors; and this was the first yoke he inadvertently imposed upon himself, and the first source of mischief which he prepared for his children; for besides continuing in this manner to soften both body and mind, these conveniences having through use lost almost all their aptness to please, and even degenerated into real wants, the privation of them became far more intolerable than the possession of them had been agreeable; to lose them was a misfortune, to possess them no happiness. here we may a little better discover how the use of speech insensibly commences or improves in the bosom of every family, and may likewise from conjectures concerning the manner in which divers particular causes might have propagated language, and accelerated its progress by rendering it every day more and more necessary. great inundations or earthquakes surrounded inhabited districts with water or precipices, portions of the continent were by revolutions of the globe torn off and split into islands. it is obvious that among men thus collected, and forced to live together, a common idiom must have started up much sooner, than among those who freely wandered through the forests of the main land. thus it is very possible that the inhabitants of the islands formed in this manner, after their first essays in navigation, brought among us the use of speech; and it is very probable at least that society and languages commenced in islands and even acquired perfection there, before the inhabitants of the continent knew anything of either. everything now begins to wear a new aspect. those who heretofore wandered through the woods, by taking to a more settled way of life, gradually flock together, coalesce into several separate bodies, and at length form in every country distinct nations, united in character and manners, not by any laws or regulations, but by an uniform manner of life, a sameness of provisions, and the common influence of the climate. a permanent neighborhood must at last infallibly create some connection between different families. the transitory commerce required by nature soon produced, among the youth of both sexes living in contiguous cabins, another kind of commerce, which besides being equally agreeable is rendered more durable by mutual intercourse. men begin to consider different objects, and to make comparisons; they insensibly acquire ideas of merit and beauty, and these soon produce sentiments of preference. by seeing each other often they contract a habit, which makes it painful not to see each other always. tender and agreeable sentiments steal into the soul, and are by the smallest opposition wound up into the most impetuous fury: jealousy kindles with love; discord triumphs; and the gentlest of passions requires sacrifices of human blood to appease it. in proportion as ideas and sentiments succeed each other, and the head and the heart exercise themselves, men continue to shake off their original wildness, and their connections become more intimate and extensive. they now begin to assemble round a great tree: singing and dancing, the genuine offspring of love and leisure, become the amusement or rather the occupation of the men and women, free from care, thus gathered together. every one begins to survey the rest, and wishes to be surveyed himself; and public esteem acquires a value. he who sings or dances best; the handsomest, the strongest, the most dexterous, the most eloquent, comes to be the most respected: this was the first step towards inequality, and at the same time towards vice. from these first preferences there proceeded on one side vanity and contempt, on the other envy and shame; and the fermentation raised by these new leavens at length produced combinations fatal to happiness and innocence. men no sooner began to set a value upon each other, and know what esteem was, than each laid claim to it, and it was no longer safe for any man to refuse it to another. hence the first duties of civility and politeness, even among savages; and hence every voluntary injury became an affront, as besides the mischief, which resulted from it as an injury, the party offended was sure to find in it a contempt for his person more intolerable than the mischief itself. it was thus that every man, punishing the contempt expressed for him by others in proportion to the value he set upon himself, the effects of revenge became terrible, and men learned to be sanguinary and cruel. such precisely was the degree attained by most of the savage nations with whom we are acquainted. and it is for want of sufficiently distinguishing ideas, and observing at how great a distance these people were from the first state of nature, that so many authors have hastily concluded that man is naturally cruel, and requires a regular system of police to be reclaimed; whereas nothing can be more gentle than he in his primitive state, when placed by nature at an equal distance from the stupidity of brutes, and the pernicious good sense of civilized man; and equally confined by instinct and reason to the care of providing against the mischief which threatens him, he is withheld by natural compassion from doing any injury to others, so far from being ever so little prone even to return that which he has received. for according to the axiom of the wise locke, where there is no property, there can be no injury. but we must take notice, that the society now formed and the relations now established among men required in them qualities different from those, which they derived from their primitive constitution; that as a sense of morality began to insinuate itself into human actions, and every man, before the enacting of laws, was the only judge and avenger of the injuries he had received, that goodness of heart suitable to the pure state of nature by no means suited infant society; that it was necessary punishments should become severer in the same proportion that the opportunities of offending became more frequent, and the dread of vengeance add strength to the too weak curb of the law. thus, though men were become less patient, and natural compassion had already suffered some alteration, this period of the development of the human faculties, holding a just mean between the indolence of the primitive state, and the petulant activity of self-love, must have been the happiest and most durable epoch. the more we reflect on this state, the more convinced we shall be, that it was the least subject of any to revolutions, the best for man, and that nothing could have drawn him out of it but some fatal accident, which, for the public good, should never have happened. the example of the savages, most of whom have been found in this condition, seems to confirm that mankind was formed ever to remain in it, that this condition is the real youth of the world, and that all ulterior improvements have been so many steps, in appearance towards the perfection of individuals, but in fact towards the decrepitness of the species. as long as men remained satisfied with their rustic cabins; as long as they confined themselves to the use of clothes made of the skins of other animals, and the use of thorns and fish-bones, in putting these skins together; as long as they continued to consider feathers and shells as sufficient ornaments, and to paint their bodies of different colours, to improve or ornament their bows and arrows, to form and scoop out with sharp-edged stones some little fishing boats, or clumsy instruments of music; in a word, as long as they undertook such works only as a single person could finish, and stuck to such arts as did not require the joint endeavours of several hands, they lived free, healthy, honest and happy, as much as their nature would admit, and continued to enjoy with each other all the pleasures of an independent intercourse; but from the moment one man began to stand in need of another's assistance; from the moment it appeared an advantage for one man to possess the quantity of provisions requisite for two, all equality vanished; property started up; labour became necessary; and boundless forests became smiling fields, which it was found necessary to water with human sweat, and in which slavery and misery were soon seen to sprout out and grow with the fruits of the earth. metallurgy and agriculture were the two arts whose invention produced this great revolution. with the poet, it is gold and silver, but with the philosopher it is iron and corn, which have civilized men, and ruined mankind. accordingly both one and the other were unknown to the savages of america, who for that very reason have always continued savages; nay other nations seem to have continued in a state of barbarism, as long as they continued to exercise one only of these arts without the other; and perhaps one of the best reasons that can be assigned, why europe has been, if not earlier, at least more constantly and better civilized than the other quarters of the world, is that she both abounds most in iron and is best qualified to produce corn. it is a very difficult matter to tell how men came to know anything of iron, and the art of employing it: for we are not to suppose that they should of themselves think of digging it out of the mines, and preparing it for fusion, before they knew what could be the result of such a process. on the other hand, there is the less reason to attribute this discovery to any accidental fire, as mines are formed nowhere but in dry and barren places, and such as are bare of trees and plants, so that it looks as if nature had taken pains to keep from us so mischievous a secret. nothing therefore remains but the extraordinary circumstance of some volcano, which, belching forth metallic substances ready fused, might have given the spectators a notion of imitating that operation of nature; and after all we must suppose them endued with an extraordinary stock of courage and foresight to undertake so painful a work, and have, at so great a distance, an eye to the advantages they might derive from it; qualities scarcely suitable but to heads more exercised, than those of such discoverers can be supposed to have been. as to agriculture, the principles of it were known a long time before the practice of it took place, and it is hardly possible that men, constantly employed in drawing their subsistence from trees and plants, should not have early hit on the means employed by nature for the generation of vegetables; but in all probability it was very late before their industry took a turn that way, either because trees, which with their land and water game supplied them with sufficient food, did not require their attention; or because they did not know the use of corn; or because they had no instruments to cultivate it; or because they were destitute of foresight in regard to future necessities; or in fine, because they wanted means to hinder others from running away with the fruit of their labours. we may believe that on their becoming more industrious they began their agriculture by cultivating with sharp stones and pointed sticks a few pulse or roots about their cabins; and that it was a long time before they knew the method of preparing corn, and were provided with instruments necessary to raise it in large quantities; not to mention the necessity there is, in order to follow this occupation and sow lands, to consent to lose something at present to gain a great deal hereafter; a precaution very foreign to the turn of man's mind in a savage state, in which, as i have already taken notice, he can hardly foresee his wants from morning to night. for this reason the invention of other arts must have been necessary to oblige mankind to apply to that of agriculture. as soon as men were wanted to fuse and forge iron, others were wanted to maintain them. the more hands were employed in manufactures, the fewer hands were left to provide subsistence for all, though the number of mouths to be supplied with food continued the same; and as some required commodities in exchange for their iron, the rest at last found out the method of making iron subservient to the multiplication of commodities. hence on the one hand husbandry and agriculture, and on the other the art of working metals and of multiplying the uses of them. to the tilling of the earth the distribution of it necessarily succeeded, and to property once acknowledged, the first rules of justice: for to secure every man his own, every man must have something. moreover, as men began to extend their views to futurity, and all found themselves in possession of more or less goods capable of being lost, every one in particular had reason to fear, lest reprisals should be made on him for any injury he might do to others. this origin is so much the more natural, as it is impossible to conceive how property can flow from any other source but industry; for what can a man add but his labour to things which he has not made, in order to acquire a property in them? 'tis the labour of the hands alone, which giving the husbandman a title to the produce of the land he has tilled gives him a title to the land itself, at least till he has gathered in the fruits of it, and so on from year to year; and this enjoyment forming a continued possession is easily transformed into a property. the ancients, says grotius, by giving to ceres the epithet of legislatrix, and to a festival celebrated in her honour the name of thesmorphoria, insinuated that the distribution of lands produced a new kind of right; that is, the right of property different from that which results from the law of nature. things thus circumstanced might have remained equal, if men's talents had been equal, and if, for instance, the use of iron, and the consumption of commodities had always held an exact proportion to each other; but as this proportion had no support, it was soon broken. the man that had most strength performed most labour; the most dexterous turned his labour to best account; the most ingenious found out methods of lessening his labour; the husbandman required more iron, or the smith more corn, and while both worked equally, one earned a great deal by his labour, while the other could scarce live by his. it is thus that natural inequality insensibly unfolds itself with that arising from a variety of combinations, and that the difference among men, developed by the difference of their circumstances, becomes more sensible, more permanent in its effects, and begins to influence in the same proportion the condition of private persons. things once arrived at this period, it is an easy matter to imagine the rest. i shall not stop to describe the successive inventions of other arts, the progress of language, the trial and employments of talents, the inequality of fortunes, the use or abuse of riches, nor all the details which follow these, and which every one may easily supply. i shall just give a glance at mankind placed in this new order of things. behold then all our faculties developed; our memory and imagination at work, self-love interested; reason rendered active; and the mind almost arrived at the utmost bounds of that perfection it is capable of. behold all our natural qualities put in motion; the rank and condition of every man established, not only as to the quantum of property and the power of serving or hurting others, but likewise as to genius, beauty, strength or address, merit or talents; and as these were the only qualities which could command respect, it was found necessary to have or at least to affect them. it was requisite for men to be thought what they really were not. to be and to appear became two very different things, and from this distinction sprang pomp and knavery, and all the vices which form their train. on the other hand, man, heretofore free and independent, was now in consequence of a multitude of new wants brought under subjection, as it were, to all nature, and especially to his fellows, whose slave in some sense he became even by becoming their master; if rich, he stood in need of their services, if poor, of their assistance; even mediocrity itself could not enable him to do without them. he must therefore have been continually at work to interest them in his happiness, and make them, if not really, at least apparently find their advantage in labouring for his: this rendered him sly and artful in his dealings with some, imperious and cruel in his dealings with others, and laid him under the necessity of using ill all those whom he stood in need of, as often as he could not awe them into a compliance with his will, and did not find it his interest to purchase it at the expense of real services. in fine, an insatiable ambition, the rage of raising their relative fortunes, not so much through real necessity, as to over-top others, inspire all men with a wicked inclination to injure each other, and with a secret jealousy so much the more dangerous, as to carry its point with the greater security, it often puts on the face of benevolence. in a word, sometimes nothing was to be seen but a contention of endeavours on the one hand, and an opposition of interests on the other, while a secret desire of thriving at the expense of others constantly prevailed. such were the first effects of property, and the inseparable attendants of infant inequality. riches, before the invention of signs to represent them, could scarce consist in anything but lands and cattle, the only real goods which men can possess. but when estates increased so much in number and in extent as to take in whole countries and touch each other, it became impossible for one man to aggrandise himself but at the expense of some other; and the supernumerary inhabitants, who were too weak or too indolent to make such acquisitions in their turn, impoverished without losing anything, because while everything about them changed they alone remained the same, were obliged to receive or force their subsistence from the hands of the rich. and hence began to flow, according to the different characters of each, domination and slavery, or violence and rapine. the rich on their side scarce began to taste the pleasure of commanding, when they preferred it to every other; and making use of their old slaves to acquire new ones, they no longer thought of anything but subduing and enslaving their neighbours; like those ravenous wolves, who having once tasted human flesh, despise every other food, and devour nothing but men for the future. it is thus that the most powerful or the most wretched, respectively considering their power and wretchedness as a kind of title to the substance of others, even equivalent to that of property, the equality once broken was followed by the most shocking disorders. it is thus that the usurpations of the rich, the pillagings of the poor, and the unbridled passions of all, by stifling the cries of natural compassion, and the as yet feeble voice of justice, rendered man avaricious, wicked and ambitious. there arose between the title of the strongest, and that of the first occupier a perpetual conflict, which always ended in battery and bloodshed. infant society became a scene of the most horrible warfare: mankind thus debased and harassed, and no longer able to retreat, or renounce the unhappy acquisitions it had made; labouring, in short merely to its confusion by the abuse of those faculties, which in themselves do it so much honour, brought itself to the very brink of ruin and destruction. attonitus novitate mali, divesque miserque, effugere optat opes; et quoe modo voverat, odit. but it is impossible that men should not sooner or later have made reflections on so wretched a situation, and upon the calamities with which they were overwhelmed. the rich in particular must have soon perceived how much they suffered by a perpetual war, of which they alone supported all the expense, and in which, though all risked life, they alone risked any substance. besides, whatever colour they might pretend to give their usurpations, they sufficiently saw that these usurpations were in the main founded upon false and precarious titles, and that what they had acquired by mere force, others could again by mere force wrest out of their hands, without leaving them the least room to complain of such a proceeding. even those, who owed all their riches to their own industry, could scarce ground their acquisitions upon a better title. it availed them nothing to say, 'twas i built this wall; i acquired this spot by my labour. who traced it out for you, another might object, and what right have you to expect payment at our expense for doing that we did not oblige you to do? don't you know that numbers of your brethren perish, or suffer grievously for want of what you possess more than suffices nature, and that you should have had the express and unanimous consent of mankind to appropriate to yourself of their common, more than was requisite for your private subsistence? destitute of solid reasons to justify, and sufficient force to defend himself; crushing individuals with ease, but with equal ease crushed by numbers; one against all, and unable, on account of mutual jealousies, to unite with his equals against banditti united by the common hopes of pillage; the rich man, thus pressed by necessity, at last conceived the deepest project that ever entered the human mind: this was to employ in his favour the very forces that attacked him, to make allies of his enemies, to inspire them with other maxims, and make them adopt other institutions as favourable to his pretensions, as the law of nature was unfavourable to them. with this view, after laying before his neighbours all the horrors of a situation, which armed them all one against another, which rendered their possessions as burdensome as their wants were intolerable, and in which no one could expect any safety either in poverty or riches, he easily invented specious arguments to bring them over to his purpose. "let us unite," said he, "to secure the weak from oppression, restrain the ambitious, and secure to every man the possession of what belongs to him: let us form rules of justice and peace, to which all may be obliged to conform, which shall not except persons, but may in some sort make amends for the caprice of fortune, by submitting alike the powerful and the weak to the observance of mutual duties. in a word, instead of turning our forces against ourselves, let us collect them into a sovereign power, which may govern us by wise laws, may protect and defend all the members of the association, repel common enemies, and maintain a perpetual concord and harmony among us." much fewer words of this kind were sufficient to draw in a parcel of rustics, whom it was an easy matter to impose upon, who had besides too many quarrels among themselves to live without arbiters, and too much avarice and ambition to live long without masters. all offered their necks to the yoke in hopes of securing their liberty; for though they had sense enough to perceive the advantages of a political constitution, they had not experience enough to see beforehand the dangers of it; those among them, who were best qualified to foresee abuses, were precisely those who expected to benefit by them; even the soberest judged it requisite to sacrifice one part of their liberty to ensure the other, as a man, dangerously wounded in any of his limbs, readily parts with it to save the rest of his body. such was, or must have been, had man been left to himself, the origin of society and of the laws, which increased the fetters of the weak, and the strength of the rich; irretrievably destroyed natural liberty, fixed for ever the laws of property and inequality; changed an artful usurpation into an irrevocable title; and for the benefit of a few ambitious individuals subjected the rest of mankind to perpetual labour, servitude, and misery. we may easily conceive how the establishment of a single society rendered that of all the rest absolutely necessary, and how, to make head against united forces, it became necessary for the rest of mankind to unite in their turn. societies once formed in this manner, soon multiplied or spread to such a degree, as to cover the face of the earth; and not to leave a corner in the whole universe, where a man could throw off the yoke, and withdraw his head from under the often ill-conducted sword which he saw perpetually hanging over it. the civil law being thus become the common rule of citizens, the law of nature no longer obtained but among the different societies, in which, under the name of the law of nations, it was qualified by some tacit conventions to render commerce possible, and supply the place of natural compassion, which, losing by degrees all that influence over societies which it originally had over individuals, no longer exists but in some great souls, who consider themselves as citizens of the world, and forcing the imaginary barriers that separate people from people, after the example of the sovereign being from whom we all derive our existence, make the whole human race the object of their benevolence. political bodies, thus remaining in a state of nature among themselves, soon experienced the inconveniences which had obliged individuals to quit it; and this state became much more fatal to these great bodies, than it had been before to the individuals which now composed them. hence those national wars, those battles, those murders, those reprisals, which make nature shudder and shock reason; hence all those horrible prejudices, which make it a virtue and an honour to shed human blood. the worthiest men learned to consider the cutting the throats of their fellows as a duty; at length men began to butcher each other by thousands without knowing for what; and more murders were committed in a single action, and more horrible disorders at the taking of a single town, than had been committed in the state of nature during ages together upon the whole face of the earth. such are the first effects we may conceive to have arisen from the division of mankind into different societies. let us return to their institution. i know that several writers have assigned other origins of political society; as for instance, the conquests of the powerful, or the union of the weak; and it is no matter which of these causes we adopt in regard to what i am going to establish; that, however, which i have just laid down, seems to me the most natural, for the following reasons: first, because, in the first case, the right of conquest being in fact no right at all, it could not serve as a foundation for any other right, the conqueror and the conquered ever remaining with respect to each other in a state of war, unless the conquered, restored to the full possession of their liberty, should freely choose their conqueror for their chief. till then, whatever capitulations might have been made between them, as these capitulations were founded upon violence, and of course _de facto_ null and void, there could not have existed in this hypothesis either a true society, or a political body, or any other law but that of the strongest. second, because these words strong and weak, are ambiguous in the second case; for during the interval between the establishment of the right of property or prior occupation and that of political government, the meaning of these terms is better expressed by the words poor and rich, as before the establishment of laws men in reality had no other means of reducing their equals, but by invading the property of these equals, or by parting with some of their own property to them. third, because the poor having nothing but their liberty to lose, it would have been the height of madness in them to give up willingly the only blessing they had left without obtaining some consideration for it: whereas the rich being sensible, if i may say so, in every part of their possessions, it was much easier to do them mischief, and therefore more incumbent upon them to guard against it; and because, in fine, it is but reasonable to suppose, that a thing has been invented by him to whom it could be of service rather than by him to whom it must prove detrimental. government in its infancy had no regular and permanent form. for want of a sufficient fund of philosophy and experience, men could see no further than the present inconveniences, and never thought of providing remedies for future ones, but in proportion as they arose. in spite of all the labours of the wisest legislators, the political state still continued imperfect, because it was in a manner the work of chance; and, as the foundations of it were ill laid, time, though sufficient to discover its defects and suggest the remedies for them, could never mend its original vices. men were continually repairing; whereas, to erect a good edifice, they should have begun as lycurgus did at sparta, by clearing the area, and removing the old materials. society at first consisted merely of some general conventions which all the members bound themselves to observe, and for the performance of which the whole body became security to every individual. experience was necessary to show the great weakness of such a constitution, and how easy it was for those, who infringed it, to escape the conviction or chastisement of faults, of which the public alone was to be both the witness and the judge; the laws could not fail of being eluded a thousand ways; inconveniences and disorders could not but multiply continually, till it was at last found necessary to think of committing to private persons the dangerous trust of public authority, and to magistrates the care of enforcing obedience to the people: for to say that chiefs were elected before confederacies were formed, and that the ministers of the laws existed before the laws themselves, is a supposition too ridiculous to deserve i should seriously refute it. it would be equally unreasonable to imagine that men at first threw themselves into the arms of an absolute master, without any conditions or consideration on his side; and that the first means contrived by jealous and unconquered men for their common safety was to run hand over head into slavery. in fact, why did they give themselves superiors, if it was not to be defended by them against oppression, and protected in their lives, liberties, and properties, which are in a manner the constitutional elements of their being? now in the relations between man and man, the worst that can happen to one man being to see himself at the discretion of another, would it not have been contrary to the dictates of good sense to begin by making over to a chief the only things for the preservation of which they stood in need of his assistance? what equivalent could he have offered them for so fine a privilege? and had he presumed to exact it on pretense of defending them, would he not have immediately received the answer in the apologue? what worse treatment can we expect from an enemy? it is therefore past dispute, and indeed a fundamental maxim of political law, that people gave themselves chiefs to defend their liberty and not be enslaved by them. if we have a prince, said pliny to trajan, it is in order that he may keep us from having a master. political writers argue in regard to the love of liberty with the same philosophy that philosophers do in regard to the state of nature; by the things they see they judge of things very different which they have never seen, and they attribute to men a natural inclination to slavery, on account of the patience with which the slaves within their notice carry the yoke; not reflecting that it is with liberty as with innocence and virtue, the value of which is not known but by those who possess them, though the relish for them is lost with the things themselves. i know the charms of your country, said brasidas to a satrap who was comparing the life of the spartans with that of the persepolites; but you can not know the pleasures of mine. as an unbroken courser erects his mane, paws the ground, and rages at the bare sight of the bit, while a trained horse patiently suffers both whip and spur, just so the barbarian will never reach his neck to the yoke which civilized man carries without murmuring but prefers the most stormy liberty to a calm subjection. it is not therefore by the servile disposition of enslaved nations that we must judge of the natural dispositions of man for or against slavery, but by the prodigies done by every free people to secure themselves from oppression. i know that the first are constantly crying up that peace and tranquillity they enjoy in their irons, and that _miserrimam servitutem pacem appellant_: but when i see the others sacrifice pleasures, peace, riches, power, and even life itself to the preservation of that single jewel so much slighted by those who have lost it; when i see free-born animals through a natural abhorrence of captivity dash their brains out against the bars of their prison; when i see multitudes of naked savages despise european pleasures, and brave hunger, fire and sword, and death itself to preserve their independency; i feel that it belongs not to slaves to argue concerning liberty. as to paternal authority, from which several have derived absolute government and every other mode of society, it is sufficient, without having recourse to locke and sidney, to observe that nothing in the world differs more from the cruel spirit of despotism that the gentleness of that authority, which looks more to the advantage of him who obeys than to the utility of him who commands; that by the law of nature the father continues master of his child no longer than the child stands in need of his assistance; that after that term they become equal, and that then the son, entirely independent of the father, owes him no obedience, but only respect. gratitude is indeed a duty which we are bound to pay, but which benefactors can not exact. instead of saying that civil society is derived from paternal authority, we should rather say that it is to the former that the latter owes its principal force: no one individual was acknowledged as the father of several other individuals, till they settled about him. the father's goods, which he can indeed dispose of as he pleases, are the ties which hold his children to their dependence upon him, and he may divide his substance among them in proportion as they shall have deserved his attention by a continual deference to his commands. now the subjects of a despotic chief, far from having any such favour to expect from him, as both themselves and all they have are his property, or at least are considered by him as such, are obliged to receive as a favour what he relinquishes to them of their own property. he does them justice when he strips them; he treats them with mercy when he suffers them to live. by continuing in this manner to compare facts with right, we should discover as little solidity as truth in the voluntary establishment of tyranny; and it would be a hard matter to prove the validity of a contract which was binding only on one side, in which one of the parties should stake everything and the other nothing, and which could turn out to the prejudice of him alone who had bound himself. this odious system is even, at this day, far from being that of wise and good monarchs, and especially of the kings of france, as may be seen by divers passages in their edicts, and particularly by that of a celebrated piece published in in the name and by the orders of louis xiv. "let it therefore not be said that the sovereign is not subject to the laws of his realm, since, that he is, is a maxim of the law of nations which flattery has sometimes attacked, but which good princes have always defended as the tutelary divinity of their realms. how much more reasonable is it to say with the sage plato, that the perfect happiness of a state consists in the subjects obeying their prince, the prince obeying the laws, and the laws being equitable and always directed to the good of the public?" i shall not stop to consider, if, liberty being the most noble faculty of man, it is not degrading one's nature, reducing one's self to the level of brutes, who are the slaves of instinct, and even offending the author of one's being, to renounce without reserve the most precious of his gifts, and submit to the commission of all the crimes he has forbid us, merely to gratify a mad or a cruel master; and if this sublime artist ought to be more irritated at seeing his work destroyed than at seeing it dishonoured. i shall only ask what right those, who were not afraid thus to degrade themselves, could have to subject their dependants to the same ignominy, and renounce, in the name of their posterity, blessings for which it is not indebted to their liberality, and without which life itself must appear a burthen to all those who are worthy to live. puffendorf says that, as we can transfer our property from one to another by contracts and conventions, we may likewise divest ourselves of our liberty in favour of other men. this, in my opinion, is a very poor way of arguing; for, in the first place, the property i cede to another becomes by such cession a thing quite foreign to me, and the abuse of which can no way affect me; but it concerns me greatly that my liberty is not abused, and i can not, without incurring the guilt of the crimes i may be forced to commit, expose myself to become the instrument of any. besides, the right of property being of mere human convention and institution, every man may dispose as he pleases of what he possesses: but the case is otherwise with regard to the essential gifts of nature, such as life and liberty, which every man is permitted to enjoy, and of which it is doubtful at least whether any man has a right to divest himself: by giving up the one, we degrade our being; by giving up the other we annihilate it as much as it is our power to do so; and as no temporal enjoyments can indemnify us for the loss of either, it would be at once offending both nature and reason to renounce them for any consideration. but though we could transfer our liberty as we do our substance, the difference would be very great with regard to our children, who enjoy our substance but by a cession of our right; whereas liberty being a blessing, which as men they hold from nature, their parents have no right to strip them of it; so that as to establish slavery it was necessary to do violence to nature, so it was necessary to alter nature to perpetuate such a right; and the jurisconsults, who have gravely pronounced that the child of a slave comes a slave into the world, have in other words decided, that a man does not come a man into the world. it therefore appears to me incontestably true, that not only governments did not begin by arbitrary power, which is but the corruption and extreme term of government, and at length brings it back to the law of the strongest, against which governments were at first the remedy, but even that, allowing they had commenced in this manner, such power being illegal in itself could never have served as a foundation to the rights of society, nor of course to the inequality of institution. i shall not now enter upon the inquiries which still remain to be made into the nature of the fundamental pacts of every kind of government, but, following the common opinion, confine myself in this place to the establishment of the political body as a real contract between the multitude and the chiefs elected by it. a contract by which both parties oblige themselves to the observance of the laws that are therein stipulated, and form the bands of their union. the multitude having, on occasion of the social relations between them, concentered all their wills in one person, all the articles, in regard to which this will explains itself, become so many fundamental laws, which oblige without exception all the members of the state, and one of which laws regulates the choice and the power of the magistrates appointed to look to the execution of the rest. this power extends to everything that can maintain the constitution, but extends to nothing that can alter it. to this power are added honours, that may render the laws and the ministers of them respectable; and the persons of the ministers are distinguished by certain prerogatives, which may make them amends for the great fatigues inseparable from a good administration. the magistrate, on his side, obliges himself not to use the power with which he is intrusted but conformably to the intention of his constituents, to maintain every one of them in the peaceable possession of his property, and upon all occasions prefer the good of the public to his own private interest. before experience had demonstrated, or a thorough knowledge of the human heart had pointed out, the abuses inseparable from such a constitution, it must have appeared so much the more perfect, as those appointed to look to its preservation were themselves most concerned therein; for magistracy and its rights being built solely on the fundamental laws, as soon as these ceased to exist, the magistrates would cease to be lawful, the people would no longer be bound to obey them, and, as the essence of the state did not consist in the magistrates but in the laws, the members of it would immediately become entitled to their primitive and natural liberty. a little reflection would afford us new arguments in confirmation of this truth, and the nature of the contract might alone convince us that it can not be irrevocable: for if there was no superior power capable of guaranteeing the fidelity of the contracting parties and of obliging them to fulfil their mutual engagements, they would remain sole judges in their own cause, and each of them would always have a right to renounce the contract, as soon as he discovered that the other had broke the conditions of it, or that these conditions ceased to suit his private convenience. upon this principle, the right of abdication may probably be founded. now, to consider as we do nothing but what is human in this institution, if the magistrate, who has all the power in his own hands, and who appropriates to himself all the advantages of the contract, has notwithstanding a right to divest himself of his authority; how much a better right must the people, who pay for all the faults of its chief, have to renounce their dependence upon him. but the shocking dissensions and disorders without number, which would be the necessary consequence of so dangerous a privilege, show more than anything else how much human governments stood in need of a more solid basis than that of mere reason, and how necessary it was for the public tranquillity, that the will of the almighty should interpose to give to sovereign authority, a sacred and inviolable character, which should deprive subjects of the mischievous right to dispose of it to whom they pleased. if mankind had received no other advantages from religion, this alone would be sufficient to make them adopt and cherish it, since it is the means of saving more blood than fanaticism has been the cause of spilling. but to resume the thread of our hypothesis. the various forms of government owe their origin to the various degrees of inequality between the members, at the time they first coalesced into a political body. where a man happened to be eminent for power, for virtue, for riches, or for credit, he became sole magistrate, and the state assumed a monarchical form; if many of pretty equal eminence out-topped all the rest, they were jointly elected, and this election produced an aristocracy; those, between whose fortune or talents there happened to be no such disproportion, and who had deviated less from the state of nature, retained in common the supreme administration, and formed a democracy. time demonstrated which of these forms suited mankind best. some remained altogether subject to the laws; others soon bowed their necks to masters. the former laboured to preserve their liberty; the latter thought of nothing but invading that of their neighbours, jealous at seeing others enjoy a blessing which themselves had lost. in a word, riches and conquest fell to the share of the one, and virtue and happiness to that of the other. in these various modes of government the offices at first were all elective; and when riches did not preponderate, the preference was given to merit, which gives a natural ascendant, and to age, which is the parent of deliberateness in council, and experience in execution. the ancients among the hebrews, the geronts of sparta, the senate of rome, nay, the very etymology of our word seigneur, show how much gray hairs were formerly respected. the oftener the choice fell upon old men, the oftener it became necessary to repeat it, and the more the trouble of such repetitions became sensible; electioneering took place; factions arose; the parties contracted ill blood; civil wars blazed forth; the lives of the citizens were sacrificed to the pretended happiness of the state; and things at last came to such a pass, as to be ready to relapse into their primitive confusion. the ambition of the principal men induced them to take advantage of these circumstances to perpetuate the hitherto temporary charges in their families; the people already inured to dependence, accustomed to ease and the conveniences of life, and too much enervated to break their fetters, consented to the increase of their slavery for the sake of securing their tranquillity; and it is thus that chiefs, become hereditary, contracted the habit of considering magistracies as a family estate, and themselves as proprietors of those communities, of which at first they were but mere officers; to call their fellow-citizens their slaves; to look upon them, like so many cows or sheep, as a part of their substance; and to style themselves the peers of gods, and kings of kings. by pursuing the progress of inequality in these different revolutions, we shall discover that the establishment of laws and of the right of property was the first term of it; the institution of magistrates the second; and the third and last the changing of legal into arbitrary power; so that the different states of rich and poor were authorized by the first epoch; those of powerful and weak by the second; and by the third those of master and slave, which formed the last degree of inequality, and the term in which all the rest at last end, till new revolutions entirely dissolve the government, or bring it back nearer to its legal constitution. to conceive the necessity of this progress, we are not so much to consider the motives for the establishment of political bodies, as the forms these bodies assume in their administration; and the inconveniences with which they are essentially attended; for those vices, which render social institutions necessary, are the same which render the abuse of such institutions unavoidable; and as (sparta alone excepted, whose laws chiefly regarded the education of children, and where lycurgus established such manners and customs, as in a great measure made laws needless,) the laws, in general less strong than the passions, restrain men without changing them; it would be no hard matter to prove that every government, which carefully guarding against all alteration and corruption should scrupulously comply with the ends of its institution, was unnecessarily instituted; and that a country, where no one either eluded the laws, or made an ill use of magistracy, required neither laws nor magistrates. political distinctions are necessarily attended with civil distinctions. the inequality between the people and the chiefs increase so fast as to be soon felt by the private members, and appears among them in a thousand shapes according to their passions, their talents, and the circumstances of affairs. the magistrate can not usurp any illegal power without making himself creatures, with whom he must divide it. besides, the citizens of a free state suffer themselves to be oppressed merely in proportion as, hurried on by a blind ambition, and looking rather below than above them, they come to love authority more than independence. when they submit to fetters, 'tis only to be the better able to fetter others in their turn. it is no easy matter to make him obey, who does not wish to command; and the most refined policy would find it impossible to subdue those men, who only desire to be independent; but inequality easily gains ground among base and ambitious souls, ever ready to run the risks of fortune, and almost indifferent whether they command or obey, as she proves either favourable or adverse to them. thus then there must have been a time, when the eyes of the people were bewitched to such a degree, that their rulers needed only to have said to the most pitiful wretch, "be great you and all your posterity," to make him immediately appear great in the eyes of every one as well as in his own; and his descendants took still more upon them, in proportion to their removes from him: the more distant and uncertain the cause, the greater the effect; the longer line of drones a family produced, the more illustrious it was reckoned. were this a proper place to enter into details, i could easily explain in what manner inequalities in point of credit and authority become unavoidable among private persons the moment that, united into one body, they are obliged to compare themselves one with another, and to note the differences which they find in the continual use every man must make of his neighbour. these differences are of several kinds; but riches, nobility or rank, power and personal merit, being in general the principal distinctions, by which men in society measure each other, i could prove that the harmony or conflict between these different forces is the surest indication of the good or bad original constitution of any state: i could make it appear that, as among these four kinds of inequality, personal qualities are the source of all the rest, riches is that in which they ultimately terminate, because, being the most immediately useful to the prosperity of individuals, and the most easy to communicate, they are made use of to purchase every other distinction. by this observation we are enabled to judge with tolerable exactness, how much any people has deviated from its primitive institution, and what steps it has still to make to the extreme term of corruption. i could show how much this universal desire of reputation, of honours, of preference, with which we are all devoured, exercises and compares our talents and our forces: how much it excites and multiplies our passions; and, by creating an universal competition, rivalship, or rather enmity among men, how many disappointments, successes, and catastrophes of every kind it daily causes among the innumerable pretenders whom it engages in the same career. i could show that it is to this itch of being spoken of, to this fury of distinguishing ourselves which seldom or never gives us a moment's respite, that we owe both the best and the worst things among us, our virtues and our vices, our sciences and our errors, our conquerors and our philosophers; that is to say, a great many bad things to a very few good ones. i could prove, in short, that if we behold a handful of rich and powerful men seated on the pinnacle of fortune and greatness, while the crowd grovel in obscurity and want, it is merely because the first prize what they enjoy but in the same degree that others want it, and that, without changing their condition, they would cease to be happy the minute the people ceased to be miserable. but these details would alone furnish sufficient matter for a more considerable work, in which might be weighed the advantages and disadvantages of every species of government, relatively to the rights of man in a state of nature, and might likewise be unveiled all the different faces under which inequality has appeared to this day, and may hereafter appear to the end of time, according to the nature of these several governments, and the revolutions time must unavoidably occasion in them. we should then see the multitude oppressed by domestic tyrants in consequence of those very precautions taken by them to guard against foreign masters. we should see oppression increase continually without its being ever possible for the oppressed to know where it would stop, nor what lawful means they had left to check its progress. we should see the rights of citizens, and the liberties of nations extinguished by slow degrees, and the groans, and protestations and appeals of the weak treated as seditious murmurings. we should see policy confine to a mercenary portion of the people the honour of defending the common cause. we should see imposts made necessary by such measures, the disheartened husbandman desert his field even in time of peace, and quit the plough to take up the sword. we should see fatal and whimsical rules laid down concerning the point of honour. we should see the champions of their country sooner or later become her enemies, and perpetually holding their poniards to the breasts of their fellow citizens. nay, the time would come when they might be heard to say to the oppressor of their country: pectore si fratris gladium juguloque parentis condere me jubeas, gravidoeque in viscera partu conjugis, in vita peragam tamen omnia dextra. from the vast inequality of conditions and fortunes, from the great variety of passions and of talents, of useless arts, of pernicious arts, of frivolous sciences, would issue clouds of prejudices equally contrary to reason, to happiness, to virtue. we should see the chiefs foment everything that tends to weaken men formed into societies by dividing them; everything that, while it gives society an air of apparent harmony, sows in it the seeds of real division; everything that can inspire the different orders with mutual distrust and hatred by an opposition of their rights and interest, and of course strengthen that power which contains them all. 'tis from the bosom of this disorder and these revolutions, that despotism gradually rearing up her hideous crest, and devouring in every part of the state all that still remained sound and untainted, would at last issue to trample upon the laws and the people, and establish herself upon the ruins of the republic. the times immediately preceding this last alteration would be times of calamity and trouble: but at last everything would be swallowed up by the monster; and the people would no longer have chiefs or laws, but only tyrants. at this fatal period all regard to virtue and manners would likewise disappear; for despotism, _cui ex honesto nulla est spes_, tolerates no other master, wherever it reigns; the moment it speaks, probity and duty lose all their influence, and the blindest obedience is the only virtue the miserable slaves have left them to practise. this is the last term of inequality, the extreme point which closes the circle and meets that from which we set out. 'tis here that all private men return to their primitive equality, because they are no longer of any account; and that, the subjects having no longer any law but that of their master, nor the master any other law but his passions, all notions of good and principles of justice again disappear. 'tis here that everything returns to the sole law of the strongest, and of course to a new state of nature different from that with which we began, in as much as the first was the state of nature in its purity, and the last the consequence of excessive corruption. there is, in other respects, so little difference between these two states, and the contract of government is so much dissolved by despotism, that the despot is no longer master than he continues the strongest, and that, as soon as his slaves can expel him, they may do it without his having the least right to complain of their using him ill. the insurrection, which ends in the death or despotism of a sultan, is as juridical an act as any by which the day before he disposed of the lives and fortunes of his subjects. force alone upheld him, force alone overturns him. thus all things take place and succeed in their natural order; and whatever may be the upshot of these hasty and frequent revolutions, no one man has reason to complain of another's injustice, but only of his own indiscretion or bad fortune. by thus discovering and following the lost and forgotten tracks, by which man from the natural must have arrived at the civil state; by restoring, with the intermediate positions which i have been just indicating, those which want of leisure obliges me to suppress, or which my imagination has not suggested, every attentive reader must unavoidably be struck at the immense space which separates these two states. 'tis in this slow succession of things he may meet with the solution of an infinite number of problems in morality and politics, which philosophers are puzzled to solve. he will perceive that, the mankind of one age not being the mankind of another, the reason why diogenes could not find a man was, that he sought among his cotemporaries the man of an earlier period: cato, he will then see, fell with rome and with liberty, because he did not suit the age in which he lived; and the greatest of men served only to astonish that world, which would have cheerfully obeyed him, had he come into it five hundred years earlier. in a word, he will find himself in a condition to understand how the soul and the passions of men by insensible alterations change as it were their nature; how it comes to pass, that at the long run our wants and our pleasures change objects; that, original man vanishing by degrees, society no longer offers to our inspection but an assemblage of artificial men and factitious passions, which are the work of all these new relations, and have no foundation in nature. reflection teaches us nothing on that head, but what experience perfectly confirms. savage man and civilised man differ so much at bottom in point of inclinations and passions, that what constitutes the supreme happiness of the one would reduce the other to despair. the first sighs for nothing but repose and liberty; he desires only to live, and to be exempt from labour; nay, the ataraxy of the most confirmed stoic falls short of his consummate indifference for every other object. on the contrary, the citizen always in motion, is perpetually sweating and toiling, and racking his brains to find out occupations still more laborious: he continues a drudge to his last minute; nay, he courts death to be able to live, or renounces life to acquire immortality. he cringes to men in power whom he hates, and to rich men whom he despises; he sticks at nothing to have the honour of serving them; he is not ashamed to value himself on his own weakness and the protection they afford him; and proud of his chains, he speaks with disdain of those who have not the honour of being the partner of his bondage. what a spectacle must the painful and envied labours of an european minister of state form in the eyes of a caribbean! how many cruel deaths would not this indolent savage prefer to such a horrid life, which very often is not even sweetened by the pleasure of doing good? but to see the drift of so many cares, his mind should first have affixed some meaning to these words power and reputation; he should be apprised that there are men who consider as something the looks of the rest of mankind, who know how to be happy and satisfied with themselves on the testimony of others sooner than upon their own. in fact, the real source of all those differences, is that the savage lives within himself, whereas the citizen, constantly beside himself, knows only how to live in the opinion of others; insomuch that it is, if i may say so, merely from their judgment that he derives the consciousness of his own existence. it is foreign to my subject to show how this disposition engenders so much indifference for good and evil, notwithstanding so many and such fine discourses of morality; how everything, being reduced to appearances, becomes mere art and mummery; honour, friendship, virtue, and often vice itself, which we at last learn the secret to boast of; how, in short, ever inquiring of others what we are, and never daring to question ourselves on so delicate a point, in the midst of so much philosophy, humanity, and politeness, and so many sublime maxims, we have nothing to show for ourselves but a deceitful and frivolous exterior, honour without virtue, reason without wisdom, and pleasure without happiness. it is sufficient that i have proved that this is not the original condition of man, and that it is merely the spirit of society, and the inequality which society engenders, that thus change and transform all our natural inclinations. i have endeavoured to exhibit the origin and progress of inequality, the institution and abuse of political societies, as far as these things are capable of being deduced from the nature of man by the mere light of reason, and independently of those sacred maxims which give to the sovereign authority the sanction of divine right. it follows from this picture, that as there is scarce any inequality among men in a state of nature, all that which we now behold owes its force and its growth to the development of our faculties and the improvement of our understanding, and at last becomes permanent and lawful by the establishment of property and of laws. it likewise follows that moral inequality, authorised by any right that is merely positive, clashes with natural right, as often as it does not combine in the same proportion with physical inequality: a distinction which sufficiently determines, what we are able to think in that respect of that kind of inequality which obtains in all civilised nations, since it is evidently against the law of nature that infancy should command old age, folly conduct wisdom, and a handful of men should be ready to choke with superfluities, while the famished multitude want the commonest necessaries of life. [transcriber's note: some words which appear to be potential typos are printed as such in the original book: these possible words include cotemporaries and oftens. the paragraph starting with the words "this odius system is even" contains unmatched quotes, which have been reproduced as they appeared in the orginal. this work was transcribed from a anthology (harvard classics volume ) published in . the editor of the entire series was charles w. eliot. the name of the translator was not given, nor was the name of the author of the introduction. indented lines indicate embedded verse that should not be re-wrapped.] leviathan by thomas hobbes leviathan or the matter, forme, & power of a common-wealth ecclesiastical and civill thomas hobbes of malmesbury printed for andrew crooke, at the green dragon in st. paul's churchyard, . transcriber's notes on the e-text: this e-text was prepared from the pelican classics edition of leviathan, which in turn was prepared from the first edition. i have tried to follow as closely as possible the original, and to give the flavour of the text that hobbes himself proof-read, but the following differences were unavoidable. hobbes used capitals and italics very extensively, for emphasis, for proper names, for quotations, and sometimes, it seems, just because. the original has very extensive margin notes, which are used to show where he introduces the definitions of words and concepts, to give in short the subject that a paragraph or section is dealing with, and to give references to his quotations, largely but not exclusively biblical. to some degree, these margin notes seem to have been intended to serve in place of an index, the original having none. they are all in italics. he also used italics for words in other languages than english, and there are a number of greek words, in the greek alphabet, in the text. to deal with these within the limits of plain vanilla ascii, i have done the following in this e-text. i have restricted my use of full capitalization to those places where hobbes used it, except in the chapter headings, which i have fully capitalized, where hobbes used a mixture of full capitalization and italics. where it is clear that the italics are to indicate the text is quoting, i have introduced quotation marks. within quotation marks i have retained the capitalization that hobbes used. where italics seem to be used for emphasis, or for proper names, or just because, i have capitalized the initial letter of the words. this has the disadvantage that they are not then distinguished from those that hobbes capitalized in plain text, but the extent of his italics would make the text very ugly if i was to use an underscore or slash. where the margin notes are either to introduce the paragraph subject, or to show where he introduces word definitions, i have included them as headers to the paragraph, again with all words having initial capitals, and on a shortened line. for margin references to quotes, i have included them in the text, in brackets immediately next to the quotation. where hobbes included references in the main text, i have left them as he put them, except to change his square brackets to round. for the greek alphabet, i have simply substituted the nearest ordinary letters that i can, and i have used initial capitals for foreign language words. neither thomas hobbes nor his typesetters seem to have had many inhibitions about spelling and punctuation. i have tried to reproduce both exactly, with the exception of the introduction of quotation marks. in preparing the text, i have found that it has much more meaning if i read it with sub-vocalization, or aloud, rather than trying to read silently. hobbes' use of emphasis and his eccentric punctuation and construction seem then to work. to my most honor'd friend mr. francis godolphin of godolphin honor'd sir. your most worthy brother mr sidney godolphin, when he lived, was pleas'd to think my studies something, and otherwise to oblige me, as you know, with reall testimonies of his good opinion, great in themselves, and the greater for the worthinesse of his person. for there is not any vertue that disposeth a man, either to the service of god, or to the service of his country, to civill society, or private friendship, that did not manifestly appear in his conversation, not as acquired by necessity, or affected upon occasion, but inhaerent, and shining in a generous constitution of his nature. therefore in honour and gratitude to him, and with devotion to your selfe, i humbly dedicate unto you this my discourse of common-wealth. i know not how the world will receive it, nor how it may reflect on those that shall seem to favour it. for in a way beset with those that contend on one side for too great liberty, and on the other side for too much authority, 'tis hard to passe between the points of both unwounded. but yet, me thinks, the endeavour to advance the civill power, should not be by the civill power condemned; nor private men, by reprehending it, declare they think that power too great. besides, i speak not of the men, but (in the abstract) of the seat of power, (like to those simple and unpartiall creatures in the roman capitol, that with their noyse defended those within it, not because they were they, but there) offending none, i think, but those without, or such within (if there be any such) as favour them. that which perhaps may most offend, are certain texts of holy scripture, alledged by me to other purpose than ordinarily they use to be by others. but i have done it with due submission, and also (in order to my subject) necessarily; for they are the outworks of the enemy, from whence they impugne the civill power. if notwithstanding this, you find my labour generally decryed, you may be pleased to excuse your selfe, and say that i am a man that love my own opinions, and think all true i say, that i honoured your brother, and honour you, and have presum'd on that, to assume the title (without your knowledge) of being, as i am, sir, your most humble, and most obedient servant, thomas hobbes. paris aprill / . contents of the chapters the first part of man introduction . of sense . of imagination . of the consequences or train of imaginations . of speech . of reason and science . of the interiour beginnings of voluntary motions, commonly called the passions; and the speeches by which they are expressed . of the ends or resolutions of discourse . of the vertues, commonly called intellectuall, and their contrary defects . of the severall subjects of knowledge . of power, worth, dignity, honour, and worthinesse . of the difference of manners . of religion . of the naturall condition of mankind as concerning their felicity and misery . of the first and second naturall lawes, and of contract . of other lawes of nature . of persons, authors, and things personated the second part of common-wealth . of the causes, generation, and definition of a common-wealth . of the rights of soveraignes by institution . of severall kinds of common-wealth by institution; and of succesion to the soveraign power . of dominion paternall, and despoticall . of the liberty of subjects . of systemes subject, politicall, and private . of the publique ministers of soveraign power . of the nutrition, and procreation of a common-wealth . of counsell . of civill lawes . of crimes, excuses, and extenuations . of punishments, and rewards . of those things that weaken, or tend to the dissolution of a common-wealth . of the office of the soveraign representative . of the kingdom of god by nature the third part of a christian common-wealth . of the principles of christian politiques . of the number, antiquity, scope, authority, and interpreters of the books of holy scripture. . of the signification, of spirit, angell, and inspiration in the books of holy scripture . of the signification in scripture of the kingdome of god, of holy, sacred, and sacrament . of the word of god, and of prophets . of miracles, and their use . of the signification in scripture of eternall life, hel, salvation, the world to come, and redemption . of the signification in scripture of the word church . of the rights of the kingdome of god, in abraham, moses, the high priests, and the kings of judah . of the office of our blessed saviour . of power ecclesiasticall . of what is necessary for mans reception into the kingdome of heaven the fourth part of the kingdome of darknesse . of spirituall darknesse from misinterpretation of scripture . of daemonology, and other reliques of the religion of the gentiles . of darknesse from vaine philosophy, and fabulous traditions . of the benefit proceeding from such darknesse; and to whom it accreweth . a review and conclusion the introduction nature (the art whereby god hath made and governes the world) is by the art of man, as in many other things, so in this also imitated, that it can make an artificial animal. for seeing life is but a motion of limbs, the begining whereof is in some principall part within; why may we not say, that all automata (engines that move themselves by springs and wheeles as doth a watch) have an artificiall life? for what is the heart, but a spring; and the nerves, but so many strings; and the joynts, but so many wheeles, giving motion to the whole body, such as was intended by the artificer? art goes yet further, imitating that rationall and most excellent worke of nature, man. for by art is created that great leviathan called a common-wealth, or state, (in latine civitas) which is but an artificiall man; though of greater stature and strength than the naturall, for whose protection and defence it was intended; and in which, the soveraignty is an artificiall soul, as giving life and motion to the whole body; the magistrates, and other officers of judicature and execution, artificiall joynts; reward and punishment (by which fastned to the seat of the soveraignty, every joynt and member is moved to performe his duty) are the nerves, that do the same in the body naturall; the wealth and riches of all the particular members, are the strength; salus populi (the peoples safety) its businesse; counsellors, by whom all things needfull for it to know, are suggested unto it, are the memory; equity and lawes, an artificiall reason and will; concord, health; sedition, sicknesse; and civill war, death. lastly, the pacts and covenants, by which the parts of this body politique were at first made, set together, and united, resemble that fiat, or the let us make man, pronounced by god in the creation. to describe the nature of this artificiall man, i will consider first the matter thereof, and the artificer; both which is man. secondly, how, and by what covenants it is made; what are the rights and just power or authority of a soveraigne; and what it is that preserveth and dissolveth it. thirdly, what is a christian common-wealth. lastly, what is the kingdome of darkness. concerning the first, there is a saying much usurped of late, that wisedome is acquired, not by reading of books, but of men. consequently whereunto, those persons, that for the most part can give no other proof of being wise, take great delight to shew what they think they have read in men, by uncharitable censures of one another behind their backs. but there is another saying not of late understood, by which they might learn truly to read one another, if they would take the pains; and that is, nosce teipsum, read thy self: which was not meant, as it is now used, to countenance, either the barbarous state of men in power, towards their inferiors; or to encourage men of low degree, to a sawcie behaviour towards their betters; but to teach us, that for the similitude of the thoughts, and passions of one man, to the thoughts, and passions of another, whosoever looketh into himselfe, and considereth what he doth, when he does think, opine, reason, hope, feare, &c, and upon what grounds; he shall thereby read and know, what are the thoughts, and passions of all other men, upon the like occasions. i say the similitude of passions, which are the same in all men, desire, feare, hope, &c; not the similitude or the objects of the passions, which are the things desired, feared, hoped, &c: for these the constitution individuall, and particular education do so vary, and they are so easie to be kept from our knowledge, that the characters of mans heart, blotted and confounded as they are, with dissembling, lying, counterfeiting, and erroneous doctrines, are legible onely to him that searcheth hearts. and though by mens actions wee do discover their designee sometimes; yet to do it without comparing them with our own, and distinguishing all circumstances, by which the case may come to be altered, is to decypher without a key, and be for the most part deceived, by too much trust, or by too much diffidence; as he that reads, is himselfe a good or evill man. but let one man read another by his actions never so perfectly, it serves him onely with his acquaintance, which are but few. he that is to govern a whole nation, must read in himselfe, not this, or that particular man; but man-kind; which though it be hard to do, harder than to learn any language, or science; yet, when i shall have set down my own reading orderly, and perspicuously, the pains left another, will be onely to consider, if he also find not the same in himselfe. for this kind of doctrine, admitteth no other demonstration. part of man chapter i. of sense concerning the thoughts of man, i will consider them first singly, and afterwards in trayne, or dependance upon one another. singly, they are every one a representation or apparence, of some quality, or other accident of a body without us; which is commonly called an object. which object worketh on the eyes, eares, and other parts of mans body; and by diversity of working, produceth diversity of apparences. the originall of them all, is that which we call sense; (for there is no conception in a mans mind, which hath not at first, totally, or by parts, been begotten upon the organs of sense.) the rest are derived from that originall. to know the naturall cause of sense, is not very necessary to the business now in hand; and i have els-where written of the same at large. nevertheless, to fill each part of my present method, i will briefly deliver the same in this place. the cause of sense, is the externall body, or object, which presseth the organ proper to each sense, either immediatly, as in the tast and touch; or mediately, as in seeing, hearing, and smelling: which pressure, by the mediation of nerves, and other strings, and membranes of the body, continued inwards to the brain, and heart, causeth there a resistance, or counter-pressure, or endeavour of the heart, to deliver it self: which endeavour because outward, seemeth to be some matter without. and this seeming, or fancy, is that which men call sense; and consisteth, as to the eye, in a light, or colour figured; to the eare, in a sound; to the nostrill, in an odour; to the tongue and palat, in a savour; and to the rest of the body, in heat, cold, hardnesse, softnesse, and such other qualities, as we discern by feeling. all which qualities called sensible, are in the object that causeth them, but so many several motions of the matter, by which it presseth our organs diversly. neither in us that are pressed, are they anything els, but divers motions; (for motion, produceth nothing but motion.) but their apparence to us is fancy, the same waking, that dreaming. and as pressing, rubbing, or striking the eye, makes us fancy a light; and pressing the eare, produceth a dinne; so do the bodies also we see, or hear, produce the same by their strong, though unobserved action, for if those colours, and sounds, were in the bodies, or objects that cause them, they could not bee severed from them, as by glasses, and in ecchoes by reflection, wee see they are; where we know the thing we see, is in one place; the apparence, in another. and though at some certain distance, the reall, and very object seem invested with the fancy it begets in us; yet still the object is one thing, the image or fancy is another. so that sense in all cases, is nothing els but originall fancy, caused (as i have said) by the pressure, that is, by the motion, of externall things upon our eyes, eares, and other organs thereunto ordained. but the philosophy-schooles, through all the universities of christendome, grounded upon certain texts of aristotle, teach another doctrine; and say, for the cause of vision, that the thing seen, sendeth forth on every side a visible species(in english) a visible shew, apparition, or aspect, or a being seen; the receiving whereof into the eye, is seeing. and for the cause of hearing, that the thing heard, sendeth forth an audible species, that is, an audible aspect, or audible being seen; which entring at the eare, maketh hearing. nay for the cause of understanding also, they say the thing understood sendeth forth intelligible species, that is, an intelligible being seen; which comming into the understanding, makes us understand. i say not this, as disapproving the use of universities: but because i am to speak hereafter of their office in a common-wealth, i must let you see on all occasions by the way, what things would be amended in them; amongst which the frequency of insignificant speech is one. chapter ii. of imagination that when a thing lies still, unlesse somewhat els stirre it, it will lye still for ever, is a truth that no man doubts of. but that when a thing is in motion, it will eternally be in motion, unless somewhat els stay it, though the reason be the same, (namely, that nothing can change it selfe,) is not so easily assented to. for men measure, not onely other men, but all other things, by themselves: and because they find themselves subject after motion to pain, and lassitude, think every thing els growes weary of motion, and seeks repose of its own accord; little considering, whether it be not some other motion, wherein that desire of rest they find in themselves, consisteth. from hence it is, that the schooles say, heavy bodies fall downwards, out of an appetite to rest, and to conserve their nature in that place which is most proper for them; ascribing appetite, and knowledge of what is good for their conservation, (which is more than man has) to things inanimate absurdly. when a body is once in motion, it moveth (unless something els hinder it) eternally; and whatsoever hindreth it, cannot in an instant, but in time, and by degrees quite extinguish it: and as wee see in the water, though the wind cease, the waves give not over rowling for a long time after; so also it happeneth in that motion, which is made in the internall parts of a man, then, when he sees, dreams, &c. for after the object is removed, or the eye shut, wee still retain an image of the thing seen, though more obscure than when we see it. and this is it, that latines call imagination, from the image made in seeing; and apply the same, though improperly, to all the other senses. but the greeks call it fancy; which signifies apparence, and is as proper to one sense, as to another. imagination therefore is nothing but decaying sense; and is found in men, and many other living creatures, as well sleeping, as waking. memory the decay of sense in men waking, is not the decay of the motion made in sense; but an obscuring of it, in such manner, as the light of the sun obscureth the light of the starres; which starrs do no less exercise their vertue by which they are visible, in the day, than in the night. but because amongst many stroaks, which our eyes, eares, and other organs receive from externall bodies, the predominant onely is sensible; therefore the light of the sun being predominant, we are not affected with the action of the starrs. and any object being removed from our eyes, though the impression it made in us remain; yet other objects more present succeeding, and working on us, the imagination of the past is obscured, and made weak; as the voyce of a man is in the noyse of the day. from whence it followeth, that the longer the time is, after the sight, or sense of any object, the weaker is the imagination. for the continuall change of mans body, destroyes in time the parts which in sense were moved: so that the distance of time, and of place, hath one and the same effect in us. for as at a distance of place, that which wee look at, appears dimme, and without distinction of the smaller parts; and as voyces grow weak, and inarticulate: so also after great distance of time, our imagination of the past is weak; and wee lose( for example) of cities wee have seen, many particular streets; and of actions, many particular circumstances. this decaying sense, when wee would express the thing it self, (i mean fancy it selfe,) wee call imagination, as i said before; but when we would express the decay, and signifie that the sense is fading, old, and past, it is called memory. so that imagination and memory, are but one thing, which for divers considerations hath divers names. much memory, or memory of many things, is called experience. againe, imagination being only of those things which have been formerly perceived by sense, either all at once, or by parts at severall times; the former, (which is the imagining the whole object, as it was presented to the sense) is simple imagination; as when one imagineth a man, or horse, which he hath seen before. the other is compounded; as when from the sight of a man at one time, and of a horse at another, we conceive in our mind a centaure. so when a man compoundeth the image of his own person, with the image of the actions of an other man; as when a man imagins himselfe a hercules, or an alexander, (which happeneth often to them that are much taken with reading of romants) it is a compound imagination, and properly but a fiction of the mind. there be also other imaginations that rise in men, (though waking) from the great impression made in sense; as from gazing upon the sun, the impression leaves an image of the sun before our eyes a long time after; and from being long and vehemently attent upon geometricall figures, a man shall in the dark, (though awake) have the images of lines, and angles before his eyes: which kind of fancy hath no particular name; as being a thing that doth not commonly fall into mens discourse. dreams the imaginations of them that sleep, are those we call dreams. and these also (as all other imaginations) have been before, either totally, or by parcells in the sense. and because in sense, the brain, and nerves, which are the necessary organs of sense, are so benummed in sleep, as not easily to be moved by the action of externall objects, there can happen in sleep, no imagination; and therefore no dreame, but what proceeds from the agitation of the inward parts of mans body; which inward parts, for the connexion they have with the brayn, and other organs, when they be distempered, do keep the same in motion; whereby the imaginations there formerly made, appeare as if a man were waking; saving that the organs of sense being now benummed, so as there is no new object, which can master and obscure them with a more vigorous impression, a dreame must needs be more cleare, in this silence of sense, than are our waking thoughts. and hence it cometh to pass, that it is a hard matter, and by many thought impossible to distinguish exactly between sense and dreaming. for my part, when i consider, that in dreames, i do not often, nor constantly think of the same persons, places, objects, and actions that i do waking; nor remember so long a trayne of coherent thoughts, dreaming, as at other times; and because waking i often observe the absurdity of dreames, but never dream of the absurdities of my waking thoughts; i am well satisfied, that being awake, i know i dreame not; though when i dreame, i think my selfe awake. and seeing dreames are caused by the distemper of some of the inward parts of the body; divers distempers must needs cause different dreams. and hence it is, that lying cold breedeth dreams of feare, and raiseth the thought and image of some fearfull object (the motion from the brain to the inner parts, and from the inner parts to the brain being reciprocall:) and that as anger causeth heat in some parts of the body, when we are awake; so when we sleep, the over heating of the same parts causeth anger, and raiseth up in the brain the imagination of an enemy. in the same manner; as naturall kindness, when we are awake causeth desire; and desire makes heat in certain other parts of the body; so also, too much heat in those parts, while wee sleep, raiseth in the brain an imagination of some kindness shewn. in summe, our dreams are the reverse of our waking imaginations; the motion when we are awake, beginning at one end; and when we dream, at another. apparitions or visions the most difficult discerning of a mans dream, from his waking thoughts, is then, when by some accident we observe not that we have slept: which is easie to happen to a man full of fearfull thoughts; and whose conscience is much troubled; and that sleepeth, without the circumstances, of going to bed, or putting off his clothes, as one that noddeth in a chayre. for he that taketh pains, and industriously layes himselfe to sleep, in case any uncouth and exorbitant fancy come unto him, cannot easily think it other than a dream. we read of marcus brutes, (one that had his life given him by julius caesar, and was also his favorite, and notwithstanding murthered him,) how at phillipi, the night before he gave battell to augustus caesar, he saw a fearfull apparition, which is commonly related by historians as a vision: but considering the circumstances, one may easily judge to have been but a short dream. for sitting in his tent, pensive and troubled with the horrour of his rash act, it was not hard for him, slumbering in the cold, to dream of that which most affrighted him; which feare, as by degrees it made him wake; so also it must needs make the apparition by degrees to vanish: and having no assurance that he slept, he could have no cause to think it a dream, or any thing but a vision. and this is no very rare accident: for even they that be perfectly awake, if they be timorous, and supperstitious, possessed with fearfull tales, and alone in the dark, are subject to the like fancies, and believe they see spirits and dead mens ghosts walking in churchyards; whereas it is either their fancy onely, or els the knavery of such persons, as make use of such superstitious feare, to pass disguised in the night, to places they would not be known to haunt. from this ignorance of how to distinguish dreams, and other strong fancies, from vision and sense, did arise the greatest part of the religion of the gentiles in time past, that worshipped satyres, fawnes, nymphs, and the like; and now adayes the opinion than rude people have of fayries, ghosts, and goblins; and of the power of witches. for as for witches, i think not that their witch craft is any reall power; but yet that they are justly punished, for the false beliefe they have, that they can do such mischiefe, joyned with their purpose to do it if they can; their trade being neerer to a new religion, than to a craft or science. and for fayries, and walking ghosts, the opinion of them has i think been on purpose, either taught, or not confuted, to keep in credit the use of exorcisme, of crosses, of holy water, and other such inventions of ghostly men. neverthelesse, there is no doubt, but god can make unnaturall apparitions. but that he does it so often, as men need to feare such things, more than they feare the stay, or change, of the course of nature, which he also can stay, and change, is no point of christian faith. but evill men under pretext that god can do any thing, are so bold as to say any thing when it serves their turn, though they think it untrue; it is the part of a wise man, to believe them no further, than right reason makes that which they say, appear credible. if this superstitious fear of spirits were taken away, and with it, prognostiques from dreams, false prophecies, and many other things depending thereon, by which, crafty ambitious persons abuse the simple people, men would be much more fitted than they are for civill obedience. and this ought to be the work of the schooles; but they rather nourish such doctrine. for (not knowing what imagination, or the senses are), what they receive, they teach: some saying, that imaginations rise of themselves, and have no cause: others that they rise most commonly from the will; and that good thoughts are blown (inspired) into a man, by god; and evill thoughts by the divell: or that good thoughts are powred (infused) into a man, by god; and evill ones by the divell. some say the senses receive the species of things, and deliver them to the common-sense; and the common sense delivers them over to the fancy, and the fancy to the memory, and the memory to the judgement, like handing of things from one to another, with many words making nothing understood. understanding the imagination that is raysed in man (or any other creature indued with the faculty of imagining) by words, or other voluntary signes, is that we generally call understanding; and is common to man and beast. for a dogge by custome will understand the call, or the rating of his master; and so will many other beasts. that understanding which is peculiar to man, is the understanding not onely his will; but his conceptions and thoughts, by the sequell and contexture of the names of things into affirmations, negations, and other formes of speech: and of this kinde of understanding i shall speak hereafter. chapter iii. of the consequence or trayne of imaginations by consequence, or trayne of thoughts, i understand that succession of one thought to another, which is called (to distinguish it from discourse in words) mentall discourse. when a man thinketh on any thing whatsoever, his next thought after, is not altogether so casuall as it seems to be. not every thought to every thought succeeds indifferently. but as wee have no imagination, whereof we have not formerly had sense, in whole, or in parts; so we have no transition from one imagination to another, whereof we never had the like before in our senses. the reason whereof is this. all fancies are motions within us, reliques of those made in the sense: and those motions that immediately succeeded one another in the sense, continue also together after sense: in so much as the former comming again to take place, and be praedominant, the later followeth, by coherence of the matter moved, is such manner, as water upon a plain table is drawn which way any one part of it is guided by the finger. but because in sense, to one and the same thing perceived, sometimes one thing, sometimes another succeedeth, it comes to passe in time, that in the imagining of any thing, there is no certainty what we shall imagine next; onely this is certain, it shall be something that succeeded the same before, at one time or another. trayne of thoughts unguided this trayne of thoughts, or mentall discourse, is of two sorts. the first is unguided, without designee, and inconstant; wherein there is no passionate thought, to govern and direct those that follow, to it self, as the end and scope of some desire, or other passion: in which case the thoughts are said to wander, and seem impertinent one to another, as in a dream. such are commonly the thoughts of men, that are not onely without company, but also without care of any thing; though even then their thoughts are as busie as at other times, but without harmony; as the sound which a lute out of tune would yeeld to any man; or in tune, to one that could not play. and yet in this wild ranging of the mind, a man may oft-times perceive the way of it, and the dependance of one thought upon another. for in a discourse of our present civill warre, what could seem more impertinent, than to ask (as one did) what was the value of a roman penny? yet the cohaerence to me was manifest enough. for the thought of the warre, introduced the thought of the delivering up the king to his enemies; the thought of that, brought in the thought of the delivering up of christ; and that again the thought of the pence, which was the price of that treason: and thence easily followed that malicious question; and all this in a moment of time; for thought is quick. trayne of thoughts regulated the second is more constant; as being regulated by some desire, and designee. for the impression made by such things as wee desire, or feare, is strong, and permanent, or, (if it cease for a time,) of quick return: so strong it is sometimes, as to hinder and break our sleep. from desire, ariseth the thought of some means we have seen produce the like of that which we ayme at; and from the thought of that, the thought of means to that mean; and so continually, till we come to some beginning within our own power. and because the end, by the greatnesse of the impression, comes often to mind, in case our thoughts begin to wander, they are quickly again reduced into the way: which observed by one of the seven wise men, made him give men this praecept, which is now worne out, respice finem; that is to say, in all your actions, look often upon what you would have, as the thing that directs all your thoughts in the way to attain it. remembrance the trayn of regulated thoughts is of two kinds; one, when of an effect imagined, wee seek the causes, or means that produce it: and this is common to man and beast. the other is, when imagining any thing whatsoever, wee seek all the possible effects, that can by it be produced; that is to say, we imagine what we can do with it, when wee have it. of which i have not at any time seen any signe, but in man onely; for this is a curiosity hardly incident to the nature of any living creature that has no other passion but sensuall, such as are hunger, thirst, lust, and anger. in summe, the discourse of the mind, when it is governed by designee, is nothing but seeking, or the faculty of invention, which the latines call sagacitas, and solertia; a hunting out of the causes, of some effect, present or past; or of the effects, of some present or past cause, sometimes a man seeks what he hath lost; and from that place, and time, wherein hee misses it, his mind runs back, from place to place, and time to time, to find where, and when he had it; that is to say, to find some certain, and limited time and place, in which to begin a method of seeking. again, from thence, his thoughts run over the same places and times, to find what action, or other occasion might make him lose it. this we call remembrance, or calling to mind: the latines call it reminiscentia, as it were a re-conning of our former actions. sometimes a man knows a place determinate, within the compasse whereof his is to seek; and then his thoughts run over all the parts thereof, in the same manner, as one would sweep a room, to find a jewell; or as a spaniel ranges the field, till he find a sent; or as a man should run over the alphabet, to start a rime. prudence sometime a man desires to know the event of an action; and then he thinketh of some like action past, and the events thereof one after another; supposing like events will follow like actions. as he that foresees what wil become of a criminal, re-cons what he has seen follow on the like crime before; having this order of thoughts, the crime, the officer, the prison, the judge, and the gallowes. which kind of thoughts, is called foresight, and prudence, or providence; and sometimes wisdome; though such conjecture, through the difficulty of observing all circumstances, be very fallacious. but this is certain; by how much one man has more experience of things past, than another; by so much also he is more prudent, and his expectations the seldomer faile him. the present onely has a being in nature; things past have a being in the memory onely, but things to come have no being at all; the future being but a fiction of the mind, applying the sequels of actions past, to the actions that are present; which with most certainty is done by him that has most experience; but not with certainty enough. and though it be called prudence, when the event answereth our expectation; yet in its own nature, it is but presumption. for the foresight of things to come, which is providence, belongs onely to him by whose will they are to come. from him onely, and supernaturally, proceeds prophecy. the best prophet naturally is the best guesser; and the best guesser, he that is most versed and studied in the matters he guesses at: for he hath most signes to guesse by. signes a signe, is the event antecedent, of the consequent; and contrarily, the consequent of the antecedent, when the like consequences have been observed, before: and the oftner they have been observed, the lesse uncertain is the signe. and therefore he that has most experience in any kind of businesse, has most signes, whereby to guesse at the future time, and consequently is the most prudent: and so much more prudent than he that is new in that kind of business, as not to be equalled by any advantage of naturall and extemporary wit: though perhaps many young men think the contrary. neverthelesse it is not prudence that distinguisheth man from beast. there be beasts, that at a year old observe more, and pursue that which is for their good, more prudently, than a child can do at ten. conjecture of the time past as prudence is a praesumtion of the future, contracted from the experience of time past; so there is a praesumtion of things past taken from other things (not future but) past also. for he that hath seen by what courses and degrees, a flourishing state hath first come into civill warre, and then to ruine; upon the sights of the ruines of any other state, will guesse, the like warre, and the like courses have been there also. but his conjecture, has the same incertainty almost with the conjecture of the future; both being grounded onely upon experience. there is no other act of mans mind, that i can remember, naturally planted in him, so, as to need no other thing, to the exercise of it, but to be born a man, and live with the use of his five senses. those other faculties, of which i shall speak by and by, and which seem proper to man onely, are acquired, and encreased by study and industry; and of most men learned by instruction, and discipline; and proceed all from the invention of words, and speech. for besides sense, and thoughts, and the trayne of thoughts, the mind of man has no other motion; though by the help of speech, and method, the same facultyes may be improved to such a height, as to distinguish men from all other living creatures. whatsoever we imagine, is finite. therefore there is no idea, or conception of anything we call infinite. no man can have in his mind an image of infinite magnitude; nor conceive the ends, and bounds of the thing named; having no conception of the thing, but of our own inability. and therefore the name of god is used, not to make us conceive him; (for he is incomprehensible; and his greatnesse, and power are unconceivable;) but that we may honour him. also because whatsoever (as i said before,) we conceive, has been perceived first by sense, either all at once, or by parts; a man can have no thought, representing any thing, not subject to sense. no man therefore can conceive any thing, but he must conceive it in some place; and indued with some determinate magnitude; and which may be divided into parts; nor that any thing is all in this place, and all in another place at the same time; nor that two, or more things can be in one, and the same place at once: for none of these things ever have, or can be incident to sense; but are absurd speeches, taken upon credit (without any signification at all,) from deceived philosophers, and deceived, or deceiving schoolemen. chapter iv. of speech originall of speech the invention of printing, though ingenious, compared with the invention of letters, is no great matter. but who was the first that found the use of letters, is not known. he that first brought them into greece, men say was cadmus, the sonne of agenor, king of phaenicia. a profitable invention for continuing the memory of time past, and the conjunction of mankind, dispersed into so many, and distant regions of the earth; and with all difficult, as proceeding from a watchfull observation of the divers motions of the tongue, palat, lips, and other organs of speech; whereby to make as many differences of characters, to remember them. but the most noble and profitable invention of all other, was that of speech, consisting of names or apellations, and their connexion; whereby men register their thoughts; recall them when they are past; and also declare them one to another for mutuall utility and conversation; without which, there had been amongst men, neither common-wealth, nor society, nor contract, nor peace, no more than amongst lyons, bears, and wolves. the first author of speech was god himselfe, that instructed adam how to name such creatures as he presented to his sight; for the scripture goeth no further in this matter. but this was sufficient to direct him to adde more names, as the experience and use of the creatures should give him occasion; and to joyn them in such manner by degrees, as to make himselfe understood; and so by succession of time, so much language might be gotten, as he had found use for; though not so copious, as an orator or philosopher has need of. for i do not find any thing in the scripture, out of which, directly or by consequence can be gathered, that adam was taught the names of all figures, numbers, measures, colours, sounds, fancies, relations; much less the names of words and speech, as generall, speciall, affirmative, negative, interrogative, optative, infinitive, all which are usefull; and least of all, of entity, intentionality, quiddity, and other significant words of the school. but all this language gotten, and augmented by adam and his posterity, was again lost at the tower of babel, when by the hand of god, every man was stricken for his rebellion, with an oblivion of his former language. and being hereby forced to disperse themselves into severall parts of the world, it must needs be, that the diversity of tongues that now is, proceeded by degrees from them, in such manner, as need (the mother of all inventions) taught them; and in tract of time grew every where more copious. the use of speech the generall use of speech, is to transferre our mentall discourse, into verbal; or the trayne of our thoughts, into a trayne of words; and that for two commodities; whereof one is, the registring of the consequences of our thoughts; which being apt to slip out of our memory, and put us to a new labour, may again be recalled, by such words as they were marked by. so that the first use of names, is to serve for markes, or notes of remembrance. another is, when many use the same words, to signifie (by their connexion and order,) one to another, what they conceive, or think of each matter; and also what they desire, feare, or have any other passion for, and for this use they are called signes. speciall uses of speech are these; first, to register, what by cogitation, wee find to be the cause of any thing, present or past; and what we find things present or past may produce, or effect: which in summe, is acquiring of arts. secondly, to shew to others that knowledge which we have attained; which is, to counsell, and teach one another. thirdly, to make known to others our wills, and purposes, that we may have the mutuall help of one another. fourthly, to please and delight our selves, and others, by playing with our words, for pleasure or ornament, innocently. abuses of speech to these uses, there are also foure correspondent abuses. first, when men register their thoughts wrong, by the inconstancy of the signification of their words; by which they register for their conceptions, that which they never conceived; and so deceive themselves. secondly, when they use words metaphorically; that is, in other sense than that they are ordained for; and thereby deceive others. thirdly, when by words they declare that to be their will, which is not. fourthly, when they use them to grieve one another: for seeing nature hath armed living creatures, some with teeth, some with horns, and some with hands, to grieve an enemy, it is but an abuse of speech, to grieve him with the tongue, unlesse it be one whom wee are obliged to govern; and then it is not to grieve, but to correct and amend. the manner how speech serveth to the remembrance of the consequence of causes and effects, consisteth in the imposing of names, and the connexion of them. names proper & common universall of names, some are proper, and singular to one onely thing; as peter, john, this man, this tree: and some are common to many things; as man, horse, tree; every of which though but one name, is nevertheless the name of divers particular things; in respect of all which together, it is called an universall; there being nothing in the world universall but names; for the things named, are every one of them individual and singular. one universall name is imposed on many things, for their similitude in some quality, or other accident: and whereas a proper name bringeth to mind one thing onely; universals recall any one of those many. and of names universall, some are of more, and some of lesse extent; the larger comprehending the lesse large: and some again of equall extent, comprehending each other reciprocally. as for example, the name body is of larger signification than the word man, and conprehendeth it; and the names man and rationall, are of equall extent, comprehending mutually one another. but here wee must take notice, that by a name is not alwayes understood, as in grammar, one onely word; but sometimes by circumlocution many words together. for all these words, hee that in his actions observeth the lawes of his country, make but one name, equivalent to this one word, just. by this imposition of names, some of larger, some of stricter signification, we turn the reckoning of the consequences of things imagined in the mind, into a reckoning of the consequences of appellations. for example, a man that hath no use of speech at all, (such, as is born and remains perfectly deafe and dumb,) if he set before his eyes a triangle, and by it two right angles, (such as are the corners of a square figure,) he may by meditation compare and find, that the three angles of that triangle, are equall to those two right angles that stand by it. but if another triangle be shewn him different in shape from the former, he cannot know without a new labour, whether the three angles of that also be equall to the same. but he that hath the use of words, when he observes, that such equality was consequent, not to the length of the sides, nor to any other particular thing in his triangle; but onely to this, that the sides were straight, and the angles three; and that that was all, for which he named it a triangle; will boldly conclude universally, that such equality of angles is in all triangles whatsoever; and register his invention in these generall termes, every triangle hath its three angles equall to two right angles. and thus the consequence found in one particular, comes to be registred and remembred, as a universall rule; and discharges our mentall reckoning, of time and place; and delivers us from all labour of the mind, saving the first; and makes that which was found true here, and now, to be true in all times and places. but the use of words in registring our thoughts, is in nothing so evident as in numbering. a naturall foole that could never learn by heart the order of numerall words, as one, two, and three, may observe every stroak of the clock, and nod to it, or say one, one, one; but can never know what houre it strikes. and it seems, there was a time when those names of number were not in use; and men were fayn to apply their fingers of one or both hands, to those things they desired to keep account of; and that thence it proceeded, that now our numerall words are but ten, in any nation, and in some but five, and then they begin again. and he that can tell ten, if he recite them out of order, will lose himselfe, and not know when he has done: much lesse will he be able to add, and substract, and performe all other operations of arithmetique. so that without words, there is no possibility of reckoning of numbers; much lesse of magnitudes, of swiftnesse, of force, and other things, the reckonings whereof are necessary to the being, or well-being of man-kind. when two names are joyned together into a consequence, or affirmation; as thus, a man is a living creature; or thus, if he be a man, he is a living creature, if the later name living creature, signifie all that the former name man signifieth, then the affirmation, or consequence is true; otherwise false. for true and false are attributes of speech, not of things. and where speech in not, there is neither truth nor falshood. errour there may be, as when wee expect that which shall not be; or suspect what has not been: but in neither case can a man be charged with untruth. seeing then that truth consisteth in the right ordering of names in our affirmations, a man that seeketh precise truth, had need to remember what every name he uses stands for; and to place it accordingly; or els he will find himselfe entangled in words, as a bird in lime-twiggs; the more he struggles, the more belimed. and therefore in geometry, (which is the onely science that it hath pleased god hitherto to bestow on mankind,) men begin at settling the significations of their words; which settling of significations, they call definitions; and place them in the beginning of their reckoning. by this it appears how necessary it is for any man that aspires to true knowledge, to examine the definitions of former authors; and either to correct them, where they are negligently set down; or to make them himselfe. for the errours of definitions multiply themselves, according as the reckoning proceeds; and lead men into absurdities, which at last they see, but cannot avoyd, without reckoning anew from the beginning; in which lyes the foundation of their errours. from whence it happens, that they which trust to books, do as they that cast up many little summs into a greater, without considering whether those little summes were rightly cast up or not; and at last finding the errour visible, and not mistrusting their first grounds, know not which way to cleere themselves; but spend time in fluttering over their bookes; as birds that entring by the chimney, and finding themselves inclosed in a chamber, flitter at the false light of a glasse window, for want of wit to consider which way they came in. so that in the right definition of names, lyes the first use of speech; which is the acquisition of science: and in wrong, or no definitions' lyes the first abuse; from which proceed all false and senslesse tenets; which make those men that take their instruction from the authority of books, and not from their own meditation, to be as much below the condition of ignorant men, as men endued with true science are above it. for between true science, and erroneous doctrines, ignorance is in the middle. naturall sense and imagination, are not subject to absurdity. nature it selfe cannot erre: and as men abound in copiousnesse of language; so they become more wise, or more mad than ordinary. nor is it possible without letters for any man to become either excellently wise, or (unless his memory be hurt by disease, or ill constitution of organs) excellently foolish. for words are wise mens counters, they do but reckon by them: but they are the mony of fooles, that value them by the authority of an aristotle, a cicero, or a thomas, or any other doctor whatsoever, if but a man. subject to names subject to names, is whatsoever can enter into, or be considered in an account; and be added one to another to make a summe; or substracted one from another, and leave a remainder. the latines called accounts of mony rationes, and accounting, ratiocinatio: and that which we in bills or books of account call items, they called nomina; that is, names: and thence it seems to proceed, that they extended the word ratio, to the faculty of reckoning in all other things. the greeks have but one word logos, for both speech and reason; not that they thought there was no speech without reason; but no reasoning without speech: and the act of reasoning they called syllogisme; which signifieth summing up of the consequences of one saying to another. and because the same things may enter into account for divers accidents; their names are (to shew that diversity) diversly wrested, and diversified. this diversity of names may be reduced to foure generall heads. first, a thing may enter into account for matter, or body; as living, sensible, rationall, hot, cold, moved, quiet; with all which names the word matter, or body is understood; all such, being names of matter. secondly, it may enter into account, or be considered, for some accident or quality, which we conceive to be in it; as for being moved, for being so long, for being hot, &c; and then, of the name of the thing it selfe, by a little change or wresting, wee make a name for that accident, which we consider; and for living put into account life; for moved, motion; for hot, heat; for long, length, and the like. and all such names, are the names of the accidents and properties, by which one matter, and body is distinguished from another. these are called names abstract; because severed (not from matter, but) from the account of matter. thirdly, we bring into account, the properties of our own bodies, whereby we make such distinction: as when any thing is seen by us, we reckon not the thing it selfe; but the sight, the colour, the idea of it in the fancy: and when any thing is heard, wee reckon it not; but the hearing, or sound onely, which is our fancy or conception of it by the eare: and such are names of fancies. fourthly, we bring into account, consider, and give names, to names themselves, and to speeches: for, generall, universall, speciall, oequivocall, are names of names. and affirmation, interrogation, commandement, narration, syllogisme, sermon, oration, and many other such, are names of speeches. use of names positive and this is all the variety of names positive; which are put to mark somewhat which is in nature, or may be feigned by the mind of man, as bodies that are, or may be conceived to be; or of bodies, the properties that are, or may be feigned to be; or words and speech. negative names with their uses there be also other names, called negative; which are notes to signifie that a word is not the name of the thing in question; as these words nothing, no man, infinite, indocible, three want foure, and the like; which are nevertheless of use in reckoning, or in correcting of reckoning; and call to mind our past cogitations, though they be not names of any thing; because they make us refuse to admit of names not rightly used. words insignificant all other names, are but insignificant sounds; and those of two sorts. one, when they are new, and yet their meaning not explained by definition; whereof there have been aboundance coyned by schoole-men, and pusled philosophers. another, when men make a name of two names, whose significations are contradictory and inconsistent; as this name, an incorporeall body, or (which is all one) an incorporeall substance, and a great number more. for whensoever any affirmation is false, the two names of which it is composed, put together and made one, signifie nothing at all. for example if it be a false affirmation to say a quadrangle is round, the word round quadrangle signifies nothing; but is a meere sound. so likewise if it be false, to say that vertue can be powred, or blown up and down; the words in-powred vertue, in-blown vertue, are as absurd and insignificant, as a round quadrangle. and therefore you shall hardly meet with a senselesse and insignificant word, that is not made up of some latin or greek names. a frenchman seldome hears our saviour called by the name of parole, but by the name of verbe often; yet verbe and parole differ no more, but that one is latin, the other french. understanding when a man upon the hearing of any speech, hath those thoughts which the words of that speech, and their connexion, were ordained and constituted to signifie; then he is said to understand it; understanding being nothing els, but conception caused by speech. and therefore if speech be peculiar to man (as for ought i know it is,) then is understanding peculiar to him also. and therefore of absurd and false affirmations, in case they be universall, there can be no understanding; though many think they understand, then, when they do but repeat the words softly, or con them in their mind. what kinds of speeches signifie the appetites, aversions, and passions of mans mind; and of their use and abuse, i shall speak when i have spoken of the passions. inconstant names the names of such things as affect us, that is, which please, and displease us, because all men be not alike affected with the same thing, nor the same man at all times, are in the common discourses of men, of inconstant signification. for seeing all names are imposed to signifie our conceptions; and all our affections are but conceptions; when we conceive the same things differently, we can hardly avoyd different naming of them. for though the nature of that we conceive, be the same; yet the diversity of our reception of it, in respect of different constitutions of body, and prejudices of opinion, gives everything a tincture of our different passions. and therefore in reasoning, a man bust take heed of words; which besides the signification of what we imagine of their nature, disposition, and interest of the speaker; such as are the names of vertues, and vices; for one man calleth wisdome, what another calleth feare; and one cruelty, what another justice; one prodigality, what another magnanimity; one gravity, what another stupidity, &c. and therefore such names can never be true grounds of any ratiocination. no more can metaphors, and tropes of speech: but these are less dangerous, because they profess their inconstancy; which the other do not. chapter v. of reason, and science. reason what it is when a man reasoneth, hee does nothing els but conceive a summe totall, from addition of parcels; or conceive a remainder, from substraction of one summe from another: which (if it be done by words,) is conceiving of the consequence of the names of all the parts, to the name of the whole; or from the names of the whole and one part, to the name of the other part. and though in some things, (as in numbers,) besides adding and substracting, men name other operations, as multiplying and dividing; yet they are the same; for multiplication, is but addition together of things equall; and division, but substracting of one thing, as often as we can. these operations are not incident to numbers onely, but to all manner of things that can be added together, and taken one out of another. for as arithmeticians teach to adde and substract in numbers; so the geometricians teach the same in lines, figures (solid and superficiall,) angles, proportions, times, degrees of swiftnesse, force, power, and the like; the logicians teach the same in consequences of words; adding together two names, to make an affirmation; and two affirmations, to make a syllogisme; and many syllogismes to make a demonstration; and from the summe, or conclusion of a syllogisme, they substract one proposition, to finde the other. writers of politiques, adde together pactions, to find mens duties; and lawyers, lawes and facts, to find what is right and wrong in the actions of private men. in summe, in what matter soever there is place for addition and substraction, there also is place for reason; and where these have no place, there reason has nothing at all to do. reason defined out of all which we may define, (that is to say determine,) what that is, which is meant by this word reason, when wee reckon it amongst the faculties of the mind. for reason, in this sense, is nothing but reckoning (that is, adding and substracting) of the consequences of generall names agreed upon, for the marking and signifying of our thoughts; i say marking them, when we reckon by our selves; and signifying, when we demonstrate, or approve our reckonings to other men. right reason where and as in arithmetique, unpractised men must, and professors themselves may often erre, and cast up false; so also in any other subject of reasoning, the ablest, most attentive, and most practised men, may deceive themselves, and inferre false conclusions; not but that reason it selfe is always right reason, as well as arithmetique is a certain and infallible art: but no one mans reason, nor the reason of any one number of men, makes the certaintie; no more than an account is therefore well cast up, because a great many men have unanimously approved it. and therfore, as when there is a controversy in an account, the parties must by their own accord, set up for right reason, the reason of some arbitrator, or judge, to whose sentence they will both stand, or their controversie must either come to blowes, or be undecided, for want of a right reason constituted by nature; so is it also in all debates of what kind soever: and when men that think themselves wiser than all others, clamor and demand right reason for judge; yet seek no more, but that things should be determined, by no other mens reason but their own, it is as intolerable in the society of men, as it is in play after trump is turned, to use for trump on every occasion, that suite whereof they have most in their hand. for they do nothing els, that will have every of their passions, as it comes to bear sway in them, to be taken for right reason, and that in their own controversies: bewraying their want of right reason, by the claym they lay to it. the use of reason the use and end of reason, is not the finding of the summe, and truth of one, or a few consequences, remote from the first definitions, and settled significations of names; but to begin at these; and proceed from one consequence to another. for there can be no certainty of the last conclusion, without a certainty of all those affirmations and negations, on which it was grounded, and inferred. as when a master of a family, in taking an account, casteth up the summs of all the bills of expence, into one sum; and not regarding how each bill is summed up, by those that give them in account; nor what it is he payes for; he advantages himselfe no more, than if he allowed the account in grosse, trusting to every of the accountants skill and honesty; so also in reasoning of all other things, he that takes up conclusions on the trust of authors, and doth not fetch them from the first items in every reckoning, (which are the significations of names settled by definitions), loses his labour; and does not know any thing; but onely beleeveth. of error and absurdity when a man reckons without the use of words, which may be done in particular things, (as when upon the sight of any one thing, wee conjecture what was likely to have preceded, or is likely to follow upon it;) if that which he thought likely to follow, followes not; or that which he thought likely to have preceded it, hath not preceded it, this is called error; to which even the most prudent men are subject. but when we reason in words of generall signification, and fall upon a generall inference which is false; though it be commonly called error, it is indeed an absurdity, or senseless speech. for error is but a deception, in presuming that somewhat is past, or to come; of which, though it were not past, or not to come; yet there was no impossibility discoverable. but when we make a generall assertion, unlesse it be a true one, the possibility of it is unconceivable. and words whereby we conceive nothing but the sound, are those we call absurd, insignificant, and non-sense. and therefore if a man should talk to me of a round quadrangle; or accidents of bread in cheese; or immaterial substances; or of a free subject; a free will; or any free, but free from being hindred by opposition, i should not say he were in an errour; but that his words were without meaning; that is to say, absurd. i have said before, (in the second chapter,) that a man did excell all other animals in this faculty, that when he conceived any thing whatsoever, he was apt to enquire the consequences of it, and what effects he could do with it. and now i adde this other degree of the same excellence, that he can by words reduce the consequences he findes to generall rules, called theoremes, or aphorismes; that is, he can reason, or reckon, not onely in number; but in all other things, whereof one may be added unto, or substracted from another. but this priviledge, is allayed by another; and that is, by the priviledge of absurdity; to which no living creature is subject, but man onely. and of men, those are of all most subject to it, that professe philosophy. for it is most true that cicero sayth of them somewhere; that there can be nothing so absurd, but may be found in the books of philosophers. and the reason is manifest. for there is not one of them that begins his ratiocination from the definitions, or explications of the names they are to use; which is a method that hath been used onely in geometry; whose conclusions have thereby been made indisputable. causes of absurditie the first cause of absurd conclusions i ascribe to the want of method; in that they begin not their ratiocination from definitions; that is, from settled significations of their words: as if they could cast account, without knowing the value of the numerall words, one, two, and three. and whereas all bodies enter into account upon divers considerations, (which i have mentioned in the precedent chapter;) these considerations being diversly named, divers absurdities proceed from the confusion, and unfit connexion of their names into assertions. and therefore the second cause of absurd assertions, i ascribe to the giving of names of bodies, to accidents; or of accidents, to bodies; as they do, that say, faith is infused, or inspired; when nothing can be powred, or breathed into any thing, but body; and that, extension is body; that phantasmes are spirits, &c. the third i ascribe to the giving of the names of the accidents of bodies without us, to the accidents of our own bodies; as they do that say, the colour is in the body; the sound is in the ayre, &c. the fourth, to the giving of the names of bodies, to names, or speeches; as they do that say, that there be things universall; that a living creature is genus, or a generall thing, &c. the fifth, to the giving of the names of accidents, to names and speeches; as they do that say, the nature of a thing is in its definition; a mans command is his will; and the like. the sixth, to the use of metaphors, tropes, and other rhetoricall figures, in stead of words proper. for though it be lawfull to say, (for example) in common speech, the way goeth, or leadeth hither, or thither, the proverb sayes this or that (whereas wayes cannot go, nor proverbs speak;) yet in reckoning, and seeking of truth, such speeches are not to be admitted. the seventh, to names that signifie nothing; but are taken up, and learned by rote from the schooles, as hypostatical, transubstantiate, consubstantiate, eternal-now, and the like canting of schoole-men. to him that can avoyd these things, it is not easie to fall into any absurdity, unlesse it be by the length of an account; wherein he may perhaps forget what went before. for all men by nature reason alike, and well, when they have good principles. for who is so stupid, as both to mistake in geometry, and also to persist in it, when another detects his error to him? science by this it appears that reason is not as sense, and memory, borne with us; nor gotten by experience onely; as prudence is; but attayned by industry; first in apt imposing of names; and secondly by getting a good and orderly method in proceeding from the elements, which are names, to assertions made by connexion of one of them to another; and so to syllogismes, which are the connexions of one assertion to another, till we come to a knowledge of all the consequences of names appertaining to the subject in hand; and that is it, men call science. and whereas sense and memory are but knowledge of fact, which is a thing past, and irrevocable; science is the knowledge of consequences, and dependance of one fact upon another: by which, out of that we can presently do, we know how to do something els when we will, or the like, another time; because when we see how any thing comes about, upon what causes, and by what manner; when the like causes come into our power, wee see how to make it produce the like effects. children therefore are not endued with reason at all, till they have attained the use of speech: but are called reasonable creatures, for the possibility apparent of having the use of reason in time to come. and the most part of men, though they have the use of reasoning a little way, as in numbring to some degree; yet it serves them to little use in common life; in which they govern themselves, some better, some worse, according to their differences of experience, quicknesse of memory, and inclinations to severall ends; but specially according to good or evill fortune, and the errors of one another. for as for science, or certain rules of their actions, they are so farre from it, that they know not what it is. geometry they have thought conjuring: but for other sciences, they who have not been taught the beginnings, and some progresse in them, that they may see how they be acquired and generated, are in this point like children, that having no thought of generation, are made believe by the women, that their brothers and sisters are not born, but found in the garden. but yet they that have no science, are in better, and nobler condition with their naturall prudence; than men, that by mis-reasoning, or by trusting them that reason wrong, fall upon false and absurd generall rules. for ignorance of causes, and of rules, does not set men so farre out of their way, as relying on false rules, and taking for causes of what they aspire to, those that are not so, but rather causes of the contrary. to conclude, the light of humane minds is perspicuous words, but by exact definitions first snuffed, and purged from ambiguity; reason is the pace; encrease of science, the way; and the benefit of man-kind, the end. and on the contrary, metaphors, and senslesse and ambiguous words, are like ignes fatui; and reasoning upon them, is wandering amongst innumerable absurdities; and their end, contention, and sedition, or contempt. prudence & sapience, with their difference as, much experience, is prudence; so, is much science, sapience. for though wee usually have one name of wisedome for them both; yet the latines did always distinguish between prudentia and sapientia, ascribing the former to experience, the later to science. but to make their difference appeare more cleerly, let us suppose one man endued with an excellent naturall use, and dexterity in handling his armes; and another to have added to that dexterity, an acquired science, of where he can offend, or be offended by his adversarie, in every possible posture, or guard: the ability of the former, would be to the ability of the later, as prudence to sapience; both usefull; but the later infallible. but they that trusting onely to the authority of books, follow the blind blindly, are like him that trusting to the false rules of the master of fence, ventures praesumptuously upon an adversary, that either kills, or disgraces him. signes of science the signes of science, are some, certain and infallible; some, uncertain. certain, when he that pretendeth the science of any thing, can teach the same; that is to say, demonstrate the truth thereof perspicuously to another: uncertain, when onely some particular events answer to his pretence, and upon many occasions prove so as he sayes they must. signes of prudence are all uncertain; because to observe by experience, and remember all circumstances that may alter the successe, is impossible. but in any businesse, whereof a man has not infallible science to proceed by; to forsake his own natural judgement, and be guided by generall sentences read in authors, and subject to many exceptions, is a signe of folly, and generally scorned by the name of pedantry. and even of those men themselves, that in councells of the common-wealth, love to shew their reading of politiques and history, very few do it in their domestique affaires, where their particular interest is concerned; having prudence enough for their private affaires: but in publique they study more the reputation of their owne wit, than the successe of anothers businesse. chapter vi. of the interiour beginnings of voluntary motions commonly called the passions. and the speeches by which they are expressed. motion vitall and animal there be in animals, two sorts of motions peculiar to them: one called vitall; begun in generation, and continued without interruption through their whole life; such as are the course of the bloud, the pulse, the breathing, the concoctions, nutrition, excretion, &c; to which motions there needs no help of imagination: the other in animal motion, otherwise called voluntary motion; as to go, to speak, to move any of our limbes, in such manner as is first fancied in our minds. that sense, is motion in the organs and interiour parts of mans body, caused by the action of the things we see, heare, &c.; and that fancy is but the reliques of the same motion, remaining after sense, has been already sayd in the first and second chapters. and because going, speaking, and the like voluntary motions, depend alwayes upon a precedent thought of whither, which way, and what; it is evident, that the imagination is the first internall beginning of all voluntary motion. and although unstudied men, doe not conceive any motion at all to be there, where the thing moved is invisible; or the space it is moved in, is (for the shortnesse of it) insensible; yet that doth not hinder, but that such motions are. for let a space be never so little, that which is moved over a greater space, whereof that little one is part, must first be moved over that. these small beginnings of motion, within the body of man, before they appear in walking, speaking, striking, and other visible actions, are commonly called endeavour. endeavour; appetite; desire; hunger; thirst; aversion this endeavour, when it is toward something which causes it, is called appetite, or desire; the later, being the generall name; and the other, oftentimes restrayned to signifie the desire of food, namely hunger and thirst. and when the endeavour is fromward something, it is generally called aversion. these words appetite, and aversion we have from the latines; and they both of them signifie the motions, one of approaching, the other of retiring. so also do the greek words for the same, which are orme and aphorme. for nature it selfe does often presse upon men those truths, which afterwards, when they look for somewhat beyond nature, they stumble at. for the schooles find in meere appetite to go, or move, no actuall motion at all: but because some motion they must acknowledge, they call it metaphoricall motion; which is but an absurd speech; for though words may be called metaphoricall; bodies, and motions cannot. that which men desire, they are also sayd to love; and to hate those things, for which they have aversion. so that desire, and love, are the same thing; save that by desire, we alwayes signifie the absence of the object; by love, most commonly the presence of the same. so also by aversion, we signifie the absence; and by hate, the presence of the object. of appetites, and aversions, some are born with men; as appetite of food, appetite of excretion, and exoneration, (which may also and more properly be called aversions, from somewhat they feele in their bodies;) and some other appetites, not many. the rest, which are appetites of particular things, proceed from experience, and triall of their effects upon themselves, or other men. for of things wee know not at all, or believe not to be, we can have no further desire, than to tast and try. but aversion wee have for things, not onely which we know have hurt us; but also that we do not know whether they will hurt us, or not. contempt those things which we neither desire, nor hate, we are said to contemne: contempt being nothing els but an immobility, or contumacy of the heart, in resisting the action of certain things; and proceeding from that the heart is already moved otherwise, by either more potent objects; or from want of experience of them. and because the constitution of a mans body, is in continuall mutation; it is impossible that all the same things should alwayes cause in him the same appetites, and aversions: much lesse can all men consent, in the desire of almost any one and the same object. good evill but whatsoever is the object of any mans appetite or desire; that is it, which he for his part calleth good: and the object of his hate, and aversion, evill; and of his contempt, vile, and inconsiderable. for these words of good, evill, and contemptible, are ever used with relation to the person that useth them: there being nothing simply and absolutely so; nor any common rule of good and evill, to be taken from the nature of the objects themselves; but from the person of the man (where there is no common-wealth;) or, (in a common-wealth,) from the person that representeth it; or from an arbitrator or judge, whom men disagreeing shall by consent set up, and make his sentence the rule thereof. pulchrum turpe; delightfull profitable; unpleasant unprofitable the latine tongue has two words, whose significations approach to those of good and evill; but are not precisely the same; and those are pulchrum and turpe. whereof the former signifies that, which by some apparent signes promiseth good; and the later, that, which promiseth evill. but in our tongue we have not so generall names to expresse them by. but for pulchrum, we say in some things, fayre; in other beautifull, or handsome, or gallant, or honourable, or comely, or amiable; and for turpe, foule, deformed, ugly, base, nauseous, and the like, as the subject shall require; all which words, in their proper places signifie nothing els, but the mine, or countenance, that promiseth good and evill. so that of good there be three kinds; good in the promise, that is pulchrum; good in effect, as the end desired, which is called jucundum, delightfull; and good as the means, which is called utile, profitable; and as many of evill: for evill, in promise, is that they call turpe; evill in effect, and end, is molestum, unpleasant, troublesome; and evill in the means, inutile, unprofitable, hurtfull. delight displeasure as, in sense, that which is really within us, is (as i have sayd before) onely motion, caused by the action of externall objects, but in apparence; to the sight, light and colour; to the eare, sound; to the nostrill, odour, &c: so, when the action of the same object is continued from the eyes, eares, and other organs to the heart; the real effect there is nothing but motion, or endeavour; which consisteth in appetite, or aversion, to, or from the object moving. but the apparence, or sense of that motion, is that wee either call delight, or trouble of mind. pleasure offence this motion, which is called appetite, and for the apparence of it delight, and pleasure, seemeth to be, a corroboration of vitall motion, and a help thereunto; and therefore such things as caused delight, were not improperly called jucunda, (a juvando,) from helping or fortifying; and the contrary, molesta, offensive, from hindering, and troubling the motion vitall. pleasure therefore, (or delight,) is the apparence, or sense of good; and molestation or displeasure, the apparence, or sense of evill. and consequently all appetite, desire, and love, is accompanied with some delight more or lesse; and all hatred, and aversion, with more or lesse displeasure and offence. pleasures of sense; pleasures of the mind; joy paine griefe of pleasures, or delights, some arise from the sense of an object present; and those may be called pleasures of sense, (the word sensuall, as it is used by those onely that condemn them, having no place till there be lawes.) of this kind are all onerations and exonerations of the body; as also all that is pleasant, in the sight, hearing, smell, tast, or touch; others arise from the expectation, that proceeds from foresight of the end, or consequence of things; whether those things in the sense please or displease: and these are pleasures of the mind of him that draweth those consequences; and are generally called joy. in the like manner, displeasures, are some in the sense, and called payne; others, in the expectation of consequences, and are called griefe. these simple passions called appetite, desire, love, aversion, hate, joy, and griefe, have their names for divers considerations diversified. as first, when they one succeed another, they are diversly called from the opinion men have of the likelihood of attaining what they desire. secondly, from the object loved or hated. thirdly, from the consideration of many of them together. fourthly, from the alteration or succession it selfe. hope-- for appetite with an opinion of attaining, is called hope. despaire-- the same, without such opinion, despaire. feare-- aversion, with opinion of hurt from the object, feare. courage-- the same, with hope of avoyding that hurt by resistance, courage. anger-- sudden courage, anger. confidence-- constant hope, confidence of our selves. diffidence-- constant despayre, diffidence of our selves. indignation-- anger for great hurt done to another, when we conceive the same to be done by injury, indignation. benevolence-- desire of good to another, benevolence, good will, charity. if to man generally, good nature. covetousnesse-- desire of riches, covetousnesse: a name used alwayes in signification of blame; because men contending for them, are displeased with one anothers attaining them; though the desire in it selfe, be to be blamed, or allowed, according to the means by which those riches are sought. ambition-- desire of office, or precedence, ambition: a name used also in the worse sense, for the reason before mentioned. pusillanimity-- desire of things that conduce but a little to our ends; and fear of things that are but of little hindrance, pusillanimity. magnanimity-- contempt of little helps, and hindrances, magnanimity. valour-- magnanimity, in danger of death, or wounds, valour, fortitude. liberality-- magnanimity in the use of riches, liberality miserablenesse-- pusillanimity, in the same wretchednesse, miserablenesse; or parsimony; as it is liked or disliked. kindnesse-- love of persons for society, kindnesse. naturall lust-- love of persons for pleasing the sense onely, natural lust. luxury-- love of the same, acquired from rumination, that is imagination of pleasure past, luxury. the passion of love; jealousie-- love of one singularly, with desire to be singularly beloved, the passion of love. the same, with fear that the love is not mutuall, jealousie. revengefulnesse-- desire, by doing hurt to another, to make him condemn some fact of his own, revengefulnesse. curiosity-- desire, to know why, and how, curiosity; such as is in no living creature but man; so that man is distinguished, not onely by his reason; but also by this singular passion from other animals; in whom the appetite of food, and other pleasures of sense, by praedominance, take away the care of knowing causes; which is a lust of the mind, that by a perseverance of delight in the continuall and indefatigable generation of knowledge, exceedeth the short vehemence of any carnall pleasure. religion superstition; true religion-- feare of power invisible, feigned by the mind, or imagined from tales publiquely allowed, religion; not allowed, superstition. and when the power imagined is truly such as we imagine, true religion. panique terrour-- feare, without the apprehension of why, or what, panique terror; called so from the fables that make pan the author of them; whereas in truth there is always in him that so feareth, first, some apprehension of the cause, though the rest run away by example; every one supposing his fellow to know why. and therefore this passion happens to none but in a throng, or multitude of people. admiration-- joy, from apprehension of novelty, admiration; proper to man, because it excites the appetite of knowing the cause. glory vaine-glory-- joy, arising from imagination of a man's own power and ability, is that exultation of the mind which is called glorying: which, if grounded upon the experience of his own former actions, is the same with confidence: but if grounded on the flattery of others, or onely supposed by himselfe, for delight in the consequences of it, is called vaine-glory: which name is properly given; because a well-grounded confidence begetteth attempt; whereas the supposing of power does not, and is therefore rightly called vaine. dejection-- griefe, from opinion of want of power, is called dejection of mind. the vaine-glory which consisteth in the feigning or supposing of abilities in ourselves, which we know are not, is most incident to young men, and nourished by the histories or fictions of gallant persons; and is corrected often times by age, and employment. sudden glory laughter-- sudden glory, is the passion which maketh those grimaces called laughter; and is caused either by some sudden act of their own, that pleaseth them; or by the apprehension of some deformed thing in another, by comparison whereof they suddenly applaud themselves. and it is incident most to them, that are conscious of the fewest abilities in themselves; who are forced to keep themselves in their own favour, by observing the imperfections of other men. and therefore much laughter at the defects of others is a signe of pusillanimity. for of great minds, one of the proper workes is, to help and free others from scorn; and compare themselves onely with the most able. sudden dejection weeping-- on the contrary, sudden dejection is the passion that causeth weeping; and is caused by such accidents, as suddenly take away some vehement hope, or some prop of their power: and they are most subject to it, that rely principally on helps externall, such as are women, and children. therefore, some weep for the loss of friends; others for their unkindnesse; others for the sudden stop made to their thoughts of revenge, by reconciliation. but in all cases, both laughter and weeping, are sudden motions; custome taking them both away. for no man laughs at old jests; or weeps for an old calamity. shame blushing-- griefe, for the discovery of some defect of ability is shame, or the passion that discovereth itself in blushing; and consisteth in the apprehension of some thing dishonourable; and in young men, is a signe of the love of good reputation; and commendable: in old men it is a signe of the same; but because it comes too late, not commendable. impudence-- the contempt of good reputation is called impudence. pitty-- griefe, for the calamity of another is pitty; and ariseth from the imagination that the like calamity may befall himselfe; and therefore is called also compassion, and in the phrase of this present time a fellow-feeling: and therefore for calamity arriving from great wickedness, the best men have the least pitty; and for the same calamity, those have least pitty, that think themselves least obnoxious to the same. cruelty-- contempt, or little sense of the calamity of others, is that which men call cruelty; proceeding from security of their own fortune. for, that any man should take pleasure in other mens' great harmes, without other end of his own, i do not conceive it possible. emulation envy-- griefe, for the success of a competitor in wealth, honour, or other good, if it be joyned with endeavour to enforce our own abilities to equal or exceed him, is called emulation: but joyned with endeavour to supplant or hinder a competitor, envie. deliberation-- when in the mind of man, appetites and aversions, hopes and feares, concerning one and the same thing, arise alternately; and divers good and evill consequences of the doing, or omitting the thing propounded, come successively into our thoughts; so that sometimes we have an appetite to it, sometimes an aversion from it; sometimes hope to be able to do it; sometimes despaire, or feare to attempt it; the whole sum of desires, aversions, hopes and feares, continued till the thing be either done, or thought impossible, is that we call deliberation. therefore of things past, there is no deliberation; because manifestly impossible to be changed: nor of things known to be impossible, or thought so; because men know, or think such deliberation vaine. but of things impossible, which we think possible, we may deliberate; not knowing it is in vain. and it is called deliberation; because it is a putting an end to the liberty we had of doing, or omitting, according to our own appetite, or aversion. this alternate succession of appetites, aversions, hopes and feares is no less in other living creatures than in man; and therefore beasts also deliberate. every deliberation is then sayd to end when that whereof they deliberate, is either done, or thought impossible; because till then wee retain the liberty of doing, or omitting, according to our appetite, or aversion. the will in deliberation, the last appetite, or aversion, immediately adhaering to the action, or to the omission thereof, is that wee call the will; the act, (not the faculty,) of willing. and beasts that have deliberation must necessarily also have will. the definition of the will, given commonly by the schooles, that it is a rationall appetite, is not good. for if it were, then could there be no voluntary act against reason. for a voluntary act is that, which proceedeth from the will, and no other. but if in stead of a rationall appetite, we shall say an appetite resulting from a precedent deliberation, then the definition is the same that i have given here. will, therefore, is the last appetite in deliberating. and though we say in common discourse, a man had a will once to do a thing, that neverthelesse he forbore to do; yet that is properly but an inclination, which makes no action voluntary; because the action depends not of it, but of the last inclination, or appetite. for if the intervenient appetites make any action voluntary, then by the same reason all intervenient aversions should make the same action involuntary; and so one and the same action should be both voluntary & involuntary. by this it is manifest, that not onely actions that have their beginning from covetousness, ambition, lust, or other appetites to the thing propounded; but also those that have their beginning from aversion, or feare of those consequences that follow the omission, are voluntary actions. formes of speech, in passion the formes of speech by which the passions are expressed, are partly the same, and partly different from those, by which we express our thoughts. and first generally all passions may be expressed indicatively; as, i love, i feare, i joy, i deliberate, i will, i command: but some of them have particular expressions by themselves, which nevertheless are not affirmations, unless it be when they serve to make other inferences, besides that of the passion they proceed from. deliberation is expressed subjunctively; which is a speech proper to signifie suppositions, with their consequences; as, if this be done, then this will follow; and differs not from the language of reasoning, save that reasoning is in generall words, but deliberation for the most part is of particulars. the language of desire, and aversion, is imperative; as, do this, forbear that; which when the party is obliged to do, or forbear, is command; otherwise prayer; or els counsell. the language of vaine-glory, of indignation, pitty and revengefulness, optative: but of the desire to know, there is a peculiar expression called interrogative; as, what is it, when shall it, how is it done, and why so? other language of the passions i find none: for cursing, swearing, reviling, and the like, do not signifie as speech; but as the actions of a tongue accustomed. these forms of speech, i say, are expressions, or voluntary significations of our passions: but certain signes they be not; because they may be used arbitrarily, whether they that use them, have such passions or not. the best signes of passions present, are either in the countenance, motions of the body, actions, and ends, or aims, which we otherwise know the man to have. good and evill apparent and because in deliberation the appetites and aversions are raised by foresight of the good and evill consequences, and sequels of the action whereof we deliberate; the good or evill effect thereof dependeth on the foresight of a long chain of consequences, of which very seldome any man is able to see to the end. but for so far as a man seeth, if the good in those consequences be greater than the evill, the whole chain is that which writers call apparent or seeming good. and contrarily, when the evill exceedeth the good, the whole is apparent or seeming evill: so that he who hath by experience, or reason, the greatest and surest prospect of consequences, deliberates best himself; and is able, when he will, to give the best counsel unto others. felicity continual successe in obtaining those things which a man from time to time desireth, that is to say, continual prospering, is that men call felicity; i mean the felicity of this life. for there is no such thing as perpetual tranquillity of mind, while we live here; because life itself is but motion, and can never be without desire, nor without feare, no more than without sense. what kind of felicity god hath ordained to them that devoutly honour him, a man shall no sooner know, than enjoy; being joys, that now are as incomprehensible, as the word of school-men, beatifical vision, is unintelligible. praise magnification the form of speech whereby men signifie their opinion of the goodnesse of anything is praise. that whereby they signifie the power and greatness of anything is magnifying. and that whereby they signifie the opinion they have of a man's felicity is by the greeks called makarismos, for which we have no name in our tongue. and thus much is sufficient for the present purpose to have been said of the passions. chapter vii. of the ends or resolutions of discourse of all discourse, governed by desire of knowledge, there is at last an end, either by attaining, or by giving over. and in the chain of discourse, wheresoever it be interrupted, there is an end for that time. judgement, or sentence final; doubt if the discourse be meerly mentall, it consisteth of thoughts that the thing will be, and will not be; or that it has been, and has not been, alternately. so that wheresoever you break off the chayn of a mans discourse, you leave him in a praesumption of it will be, or, it will not be; or it has been, or, has not been. all which is opinion. and that which is alternate appetite, in deliberating concerning good and evil, the same is alternate opinion in the enquiry of the truth of past, and future. and as the last appetite in deliberation is called the will, so the last opinion in search of the truth of past, and future, is called the judgement, or resolute and final sentence of him that discourseth. and as the whole chain of appetites alternate, in the question of good or bad is called deliberation; so the whole chain of opinions alternate, in the question of true, or false is called doubt. no discourse whatsoever, can end in absolute knowledge of fact, past, or to come. for, as for the knowledge of fact, it is originally, sense; and ever after, memory. and for the knowledge of consequence, which i have said before is called science, it is not absolute, but conditionall. no man can know by discourse, that this, or that, is, has been, or will be; which is to know absolutely: but onely, that if this be, that is; if this has been, that has been; if this shall be, that shall be: which is to know conditionally; and that not the consequence of one thing to another; but of one name of a thing, to another name of the same thing. science opinion conscience and therefore, when the discourse is put into speech, and begins with the definitions of words, and proceeds by connexion of the same into general affirmations, and of these again into syllogismes, the end or last sum is called the conclusion; and the thought of the mind by it signified is that conditional knowledge, or knowledge of the consequence of words, which is commonly called science. but if the first ground of such discourse be not definitions, or if the definitions be not rightly joyned together into syllogismes, then the end or conclusion is again opinion, namely of the truth of somewhat said, though sometimes in absurd and senslesse words, without possibility of being understood. when two, or more men, know of one and the same fact, they are said to be conscious of it one to another; which is as much as to know it together. and because such are fittest witnesses of the facts of one another, or of a third, it was, and ever will be reputed a very evill act, for any man to speak against his conscience; or to corrupt or force another so to do: insomuch that the plea of conscience, has been always hearkened unto very diligently in all times. afterwards, men made use of the same word metaphorically, for the knowledge of their own secret facts, and secret thoughts; and therefore it is rhetorically said that the conscience is a thousand witnesses. and last of all, men, vehemently in love with their own new opinions, (though never so absurd,) and obstinately bent to maintain them, gave those their opinions also that reverenced name of conscience, as if they would have it seem unlawful, to change or speak against them; and so pretend to know they are true, when they know at most but that they think so. beliefe faith when a mans discourse beginneth not at definitions, it beginneth either at some other contemplation of his own, and then it is still called opinion; or it beginneth at some saying of another, of whose ability to know the truth, and of whose honesty in not deceiving, he doubteth not; and then the discourse is not so much concerning the thing, as the person; and the resolution is called beleefe, and faith: faith, in the man; beleefe, both of the man, and of the truth of what he sayes. so then in beleefe are two opinions; one of the saying of the man; the other of his vertue. to have faith in, or trust to, or beleeve a man, signifie the same thing; namely, an opinion of the veracity of the man: but to beleeve what is said, signifieth onely an opinion of the truth of the saying. but wee are to observe that this phrase, i beleeve in; as also the latine, credo in; and the greek, pisteno eis, are never used but in the writings of divines. in stead of them, in other writings are put, i beleeve him; i have faith in him; i rely on him: and in latin, credo illi; fido illi: and in greek, pisteno anto: and that this singularity of the ecclesiastical use of the word hath raised many disputes about the right object of the christian faith. but by beleeving in, as it is in the creed, is meant, not trust in the person; but confession and acknowledgement of the doctrine. for not onely christians, but all manner of men do so believe in god, as to hold all for truth they heare him say, whether they understand it, or not; which is all the faith and trust can possibly be had in any person whatsoever: but they do not all believe the doctrine of the creed. from whence we may inferre, that when wee believe any saying whatsoever it be, to be true, from arguments taken, not from the thing it selfe, or from the principles of naturall reason, but from the authority, and good opinion wee have, of him that hath sayd it; then is the speaker, or person we believe in, or trust in, and whose word we take, the object of our faith; and the honour done in believing, is done to him onely. and consequently, when wee believe that the scriptures are the word of god, having no immediate revelation from god himselfe, our beleefe, faith, and trust is in the church; whose word we take, and acquiesce therein. and they that believe that which a prophet relates unto them in the name of god, take the word of the prophet, do honour to him, and in him trust, and believe, touching the truth of what he relateth, whether he be a true, or a false prophet. and so it is also with all other history. for if i should not believe all that is written by historians, of the glorious acts of alexander, or caesar; i do not think the ghost of alexander, or caesar, had any just cause to be offended; or any body else, but the historian. if livy say the gods made once a cow speak, and we believe it not; wee distrust not god therein, but livy. so that it is evident, that whatsoever we believe, upon no other reason, than what is drawn from authority of men onely, and their writings; whether they be sent from god or not, is faith in men onely. chapter viii. of the vertues commonly called intellectual; and their contrary defects intellectuall vertue defined vertue generally, in all sorts of subjects, is somewhat that is valued for eminence; and consisteth in comparison. for if all things were equally in all men, nothing would be prized. and by vertues intellectuall, are always understood such abilityes of the mind, as men praise, value, and desire should be in themselves; and go commonly under the name of a good witte; though the same word witte, be used also, to distinguish one certain ability from the rest. wit, naturall, or acquired these vertues are of two sorts; naturall, and acquired. by naturall, i mean not, that which a man hath from his birth: for that is nothing else but sense; wherein men differ so little one from another, and from brute beasts, as it is not to be reckoned amongst vertues. but i mean, that witte, which is gotten by use onely, and experience; without method, culture, or instruction. this naturall witte, consisteth principally in two things; celerity of imagining, (that is, swift succession of one thought to another;) and steddy direction to some approved end. on the contrary a slow imagination, maketh that defect, or fault of the mind, which is commonly called dulnesse, stupidity, and sometimes by other names that signifie slownesse of motion, or difficulty to be moved. good wit, or fancy; good judgement; discretion and this difference of quicknesse, is caused by the difference of mens passions; that love and dislike, some one thing, some another: and therefore some mens thoughts run one way, some another: and are held to, and observe differently the things that passe through their imagination. and whereas in his succession of mens thoughts, there is nothing to observe in the things they think on, but either in what they be like one another, or in what they be unlike, or what they serve for, or how they serve to such a purpose; those that observe their similitudes, in case they be such as are but rarely observed by others, are sayd to have a good wit; by which, in this occasion, is meant a good fancy. but they that observe their differences, and dissimilitudes; which is called distinguishing, and discerning, and judging between thing and thing; in case, such discerning be not easie, are said to have a good judgement: and particularly in matter of conversation and businesse; wherein, times, places, and persons are to be discerned, this vertue is called discretion. the former, that is, fancy, without the help of judgement, is not commended as a vertue: but the later which is judgement, and discretion, is commended for it selfe, without the help of fancy. besides the discretion of times, places, and persons, necessary to a good fancy, there is required also an often application of his thoughts to their end; that is to say, to some use to be made of them. this done; he that hath this vertue, will be easily fitted with similitudes, that will please, not onely by illustration of his discourse, and adorning it with new and apt metaphors; but also, by the rarity or their invention. but without steddinesse, and direction to some end, a great fancy is one kind of madnesse; such as they have, that entring into any discourse, are snatched from their purpose, by every thing that comes in their thought, into so many, and so long digressions, and parentheses, that they utterly lose themselves: which kind of folly, i know no particular name for: but the cause of it is, sometimes want of experience; whereby that seemeth to a man new and rare, which doth not so to others: sometimes pusillanimity; by which that seems great to him, which other men think a trifle: and whatsoever is new, or great, and therefore thought fit to be told, withdrawes a man by degrees from the intended way of his discourse. in a good poem, whether it be epique, or dramatique; as also in sonnets, epigrams, and other pieces, both judgement and fancy are required: but the fancy must be more eminent; because they please for the extravagancy; but ought not to displease by indiscretion. in a good history, the judgement must be eminent; because the goodnesse consisteth, in the method, in the truth, and in the choyse of the actions that are most profitable to be known. fancy has no place, but onely in adorning the stile. in orations of prayse, and in invectives, the fancy is praedominant; because the designe is not truth, but to honour or dishonour; which is done by noble, or by vile comparisons. the judgement does but suggest what circumstances make an action laudable, or culpable. in hortatives, and pleadings, as truth, or disguise serveth best to the designe in hand; so is the judgement, or the fancy most required. in demonstration, in councell, and all rigourous search of truth, judgement does all; except sometimes the understanding have need to be opened by some apt similitude; and then there is so much use of fancy. but for metaphors, they are in this case utterly excluded. for seeing they openly professe deceipt; to admit them into councell, or reasoning, were manifest folly. and in any discourse whatsoever, if the defect of discretion be apparent, how extravagant soever the fancy be, the whole discourse will be taken for a signe of want of wit; and so will it never when the discretion is manifest, though the fancy be never so ordinary. the secret thoughts of a man run over all things, holy, prophane, clean, obscene, grave, and light, without shame, or blame; which verball discourse cannot do, farther than the judgement shall approve of the time, place, and persons. an anatomist, or a physitian may speak, or write his judgement of unclean things; because it is not to please, but profit: but for another man to write his extravagant, and pleasant fancies of the same, is as if a man, from being tumbled into the dirt, should come and present himselfe before good company. and 'tis the want of discretion that makes the difference. again, in profest remissnesse of mind, and familiar company, a man may play with the sounds, and aequivocal significations of words; and that many times with encounters of extraordinary fancy: but in a sermon, or in publique, or before persons unknown, or whom we ought to reverence, there is no gingling of words that will not be accounted folly: and the difference is onely in the want of discretion. so that where wit is wanting, it is not fancy that is wanting, but discretion. judgement therefore without fancy is wit, but fancy without judgement not. prudence when the thoughts of a man, that has a designe in hand, running over a multitude of things, observes how they conduce to that designe; or what designe they may conduce into; if his observations be such as are not easie, or usuall, this wit of his is called prudence; and dependeth on much experience, and memory of the like things, and their consequences heretofore. in which there is not so much difference of men, as there is in their fancies and judgements; because the experience of men equall in age, is not much unequall, as to the quantity; but lyes in different occasions; every one having his private designes. to govern well a family, and a kingdome, are not different degrees of prudence; but different sorts of businesse; no more then to draw a picture in little, or as great, or greater then the life, are different degrees of art. a plain husband-man is more prudent in affaires of his own house, then a privy counseller in the affaires of another man. craft to prudence, if you adde the use of unjust, or dishonest means, such as usually are prompted to men by feare, or want; you have that crooked wisdome, which is called craft; which is a signe of pusillanimity. for magnanimity is contempt of unjust, or dishonest helps. and that which the latines call versutia, (translated into english, shifting,) and is a putting off of a present danger or incommodity, by engaging into a greater, as when a man robbs one to pay another, is but a shorter sighted craft, called versutia, from versura, which signifies taking mony at usurie, for the present payment of interest. acquired wit as for acquired wit, (i mean acquired by method and instruction,) there is none but reason; which is grounded on the right use of speech; and produceth the sciences. but of reason and science, i have already spoken in the fifth and sixth chapters. the causes of this difference of witts, are in the passions: and the difference of passions, proceedeth partly from the different constitution of the body, and partly from different education. for if the difference proceeded from the temper of the brain, and the organs of sense, either exterior or interior, there would be no lesse difference of men in their sight, hearing, or other senses, than in their fancies, and discretions. it proceeds therefore from the passions; which are different, not onely from the difference of mens complexions; but also from their difference of customes, and education. the passions that most of all cause the differences of wit, are principally, the more or lesse desire of power, of riches, of knowledge, and of honour. all which may be reduced to the first, that is desire of power. for riches, knowledge and honour are but severall sorts of power. giddinesse madnesse and therefore, a man who has no great passion for any of these things; but is as men terme it indifferent; though he may be so farre a good man, as to be free from giving offence; yet he cannot possibly have either a great fancy, or much judgement. for the thoughts, are to the desires, as scouts, and spies, to range abroad, and find the way to the things desired: all stedinesse of the minds motion, and all quicknesse of the same, proceeding from thence. for as to have no desire, is to be dead: so to have weak passions, is dulnesse; and to have passions indifferently for every thing, giddinesse, and distraction; and to have stronger, and more vehement passions for any thing, than is ordinarily seen in others, is that which men call madnesse. whereof there be almost as many kinds, as of the passions themselves. sometimes the extraordinary and extravagant passion, proceedeth from the evill constitution of the organs of the body, or harme done them; and sometimes the hurt, and indisposition of the organs, is caused by the vehemence, or long continuance of the passion. but in both cases the madnesse is of one and the same nature. the passion, whose violence, or continuance maketh madnesse, is either great vaine-glory; which is commonly called pride, and selfe-conceipt; or great dejection of mind. rage pride, subjecteth a man to anger, the excesse whereof, is the madnesse called rage, and fury. and thus it comes to passe that excessive desire of revenge, when it becomes habituall, hurteth the organs, and becomes rage: that excessive love, with jealousie, becomes also rage: excessive opinion of a mans own selfe, for divine inspiration, for wisdome, learning, forme, and the like, becomes distraction, and giddinesse: the same, joyned with envy, rage: vehement opinion of the truth of any thing, contradicted by others, rage. melancholy dejection, subjects a man to causelesse fears; which is a madnesse commonly called melancholy, apparent also in divers manners; as in haunting of solitudes, and graves; in superstitious behaviour; and in fearing some one, some another particular thing. in summe, all passions that produce strange and unusuall behaviour, are called by the generall name of madnesse. but of the severall kinds of madnesse, he that would take the paines, might enrowle a legion. and if the excesses be madnesse, there is no doubt but the passions themselves, when they tend to evill, are degrees of the same. (for example,) though the effect of folly, in them that are possessed of an opinion of being inspired, be not visible alwayes in one man, by any very extravagant action, that proceedeth from such passion; yet when many of them conspire together, the rage of the whole multitude is visible enough. for what argument of madnesse can there be greater, than to clamour, strike, and throw stones at our best friends? yet this is somewhat lesse than such a multitude will do. for they will clamour, fight against, and destroy those, by whom all their lifetime before, they have been protected, and secured from injury. and if this be madnesse in the multitude, it is the same in every particular man. for as in the middest of the sea, though a man perceive no sound of that part of the water next him; yet he is well assured, that part contributes as much, to the roaring of the sea, as any other part, of the same quantity: so also, thought wee perceive no great unquietnesse, in one, or two men; yet we may be well assured, that their singular passions, are parts of the seditious roaring of a troubled nation. and if there were nothing else that bewrayed their madnesse; yet that very arrogating such inspiration to themselves, is argument enough. if some man in bedlam should entertaine you with sober discourse; and you desire in taking leave, to know what he were, that you might another time requite his civility; and he should tell you, he were god the father; i think you need expect no extravagant action for argument of his madnesse. this opinion of inspiration, called commonly, private spirit, begins very often, from some lucky finding of an errour generally held by others; and not knowing, or not remembring, by what conduct of reason, they came to so singular a truth, (as they think it, though it be many times an untruth they light on,) they presently admire themselves; as being in the speciall grace of god almighty, who hath revealed the same to them supernaturally, by his spirit. again, that madnesse is nothing else, but too much appearing passion, may be gathered out of the effects of wine, which are the same with those of the evill disposition of the organs. for the variety of behaviour in men that have drunk too much, is the same with that of mad-men: some of them raging, others loving, others laughing, all extravagantly, but according to their severall domineering passions: for the effect of the wine, does but remove dissimulation; and take from them the sight of the deformity of their passions. for, (i believe) the most sober men, when they walk alone without care and employment of the mind, would be unwilling the vanity and extravagance of their thoughts at that time should be publiquely seen: which is a confession, that passions unguided, are for the most part meere madnesse. the opinions of the world, both in antient and later ages, concerning the cause of madnesse, have been two. some, deriving them from the passions; some, from daemons, or spirits, either good, or bad, which they thought might enter into a man, possesse him, and move his organs is such strange, and uncouth manner, as mad-men use to do. the former sort therefore, called such men, mad-men: but the later, called them sometimes daemoniacks, (that is, possessed with spirits;) sometimes energumeni, (that is agitated, or moved with spirits;) and now in italy they are called not onely pazzi, mad-men; but also spiritati, men possest. there was once a great conflux of people in abdera, a city of the greeks, at the acting of the tragedy of andromeda, upon an extream hot day: whereupon, a great many of the spectators falling into fevers, had this accident from the heat, and from the tragedy together, that they did nothing but pronounce iambiques, with the names of perseus and andromeda; which together with the fever, was cured, by the comming on of winter: and this madnesse was thought to proceed from the passion imprinted by the tragedy. likewise there raigned a fit of madnesse in another graecian city, which seized onely the young maidens; and caused many of them to hang themselves. this was by most then thought an act of the divel. but one that suspected, that contempt of life in them, might proceed from some passion of the mind, and supposing they did not contemne also their honour, gave counsell to the magistrates, to strip such as so hang'd themselves, and let them hang out naked. this the story sayes cured that madnesse. but on the other side, the same graecians, did often ascribe madnesse, to the operation of the eumenides, or furyes; and sometimes of ceres, phoebus, and other gods: so much did men attribute to phantasmes, as to think them aereal living bodies; and generally to call them spirits. and as the romans in this, held the same opinion with the greeks: so also did the jewes; for they calle mad-men prophets, or (according as they thought the spirits good or bad) daemoniacks; and some of them called both prophets, and daemoniacks, mad-men; and some called the same man both daemoniack, and mad-man. but for the gentiles, 'tis no wonder; because diseases, and health; vices, and vertues; and many naturall accidents, were with them termed, and worshipped as daemons. so that a man was to understand by daemon, as well (sometimes) an ague, as a divell. but for the jewes to have such opinion, is somewhat strange. for neither moses, nor abraham pretended to prophecy by possession of a spirit; but from the voyce of god; or by a vision or dream: nor is there any thing in his law, morall, or ceremoniall, by which they were taught, there was any such enthusiasme; or any possession. when god is sayd, (numb. . .) to take from the spirit that was in moses, and give it to the . elders, the spirit of god (taking it for the substance of god) is not divided. the scriptures by the spirit of god in man, mean a mans spirit, enclined to godlinesse. and where it is said (exod. . .) "whom i have filled with the spirit of wisdome to make garments for aaron," is not meant a spirit put into them, that can make garments; but the wisdome of their own spirits in that kind of work. in the like sense, the spirit of man, when it produceth unclean actions, is ordinarily called an unclean spirit; and so other spirits, though not alwayes, yet as often as the vertue or vice so stiled, is extraordinary, and eminent. neither did the other prophets of the old testament pretend enthusiasme; or, that god spake in them; but to them by voyce, vision, or dream; and the burthen of the lord was not possession, but command. how then could the jewes fall into this opinion of possession? i can imagine no reason, but that which is common to all men; namely, the want of curiosity to search naturall causes; and their placing felicity, in the acquisition of the grosse pleasures of the senses, and the things that most immediately conduce thereto. for they that see any strange, and unusuall ability, or defect in a mans mind; unlesse they see withall, from what cause it may probably proceed, can hardly think it naturall; and if not naturall, they must needs thinke it supernaturall; and then what can it be, but that either god, or the divell is in him? and hence it came to passe, when our saviour (mark . .) was compassed about with the multitude, those of the house doubted he was mad, and went out to hold him: but the scribes said he had belzebub, and that was it, by which he cast out divels; as if the greater mad-man had awed the lesser. and that (john . .) some said, "he hath a divell, and is mad;" whereas others holding him for a prophet, sayd, "these are not the words of one that hath a divell." so in the old testament he that came to anoynt jehu, ( kings . .) was a prophet; but some of the company asked jehu, "what came that mad-man for?" so that in summe, it is manifest, that whosoever behaved himselfe in extraordinary manner, was thought by the jewes to be possessed either with a good, or evill spirit; except by the sadduces, who erred so farre on the other hand, as not to believe there were at all any spirits, (which is very neere to direct atheisme;) and thereby perhaps the more provoked others, to terme such men daemoniacks, rather than mad-men. but why then does our saviour proceed in the curing of them, as if they were possest; and not as if they were mad. to which i can give no other kind of answer, but that which is given to those that urge the scripture in like manner against the opinion of the motion of the earth. the scripture was written to shew unto men the kingdome of god; and to prepare their mindes to become his obedient subjects; leaving the world, and the philosophy thereof, to the disputation of men, for the exercising of their naturall reason. whether the earths, or suns motion make the day, and night; or whether the exorbitant actions of men, proceed from passion, or from the divell, (so we worship him not) it is all one, as to our obedience, and subjection to god almighty; which is the thing for which the scripture was written. as for that our saviour speaketh to the disease, as to a person; it is the usuall phrase of all that cure by words onely, as christ did, (and inchanters pretend to do, whether they speak to a divel or not.) for is not christ also said (math. . .) to have rebuked the winds? is not he said also (luk. . .) to rebuke a fever? yet this does not argue that a fever is a divel. and whereas many of these divels are said to confesse christ; it is not necessary to interpret those places otherwise, than that those mad-men confessed him. and whereas our saviour (math. . .) speaketh of an unclean spirit, that having gone out of a man, wandreth through dry places, seeking rest, and finding none; and returning into the same man, with seven other spirits worse than himselfe; it is manifestly a parable, alluding to a man, that after a little endeavour to quit his lusts, is vanquished by the strength of them; and becomes seven times worse than he was. so that i see nothing at all in the scripture, that requireth a beliefe, that daemoniacks were any other thing but mad-men. insignificant speech there is yet another fault in the discourses of some men; which may also be numbred amongst the sorts of madnesse; namely, that abuse of words, whereof i have spoken before in the fifth chapter, by the name of absurdity. and that is, when men speak such words, as put together, have in them no signification at all; but are fallen upon by some, through misunderstanding of the words they have received, and repeat by rote; by others, from intention to deceive by obscurity. and this is incident to none but those, that converse in questions of matters incomprehensible, as the schoole-men; or in questions of abstruse philosophy. the common sort of men seldome speak insignificantly, and are therefore, by those other egregious persons counted idiots. but to be assured their words are without any thing correspondent to them in the mind, there would need some examples; which if any man require, let him take a schoole-man into his hands, and see if he can translate any one chapter concerning any difficult point; as the trinity; the deity; the nature of christ; transubstantiation; free-will. &c. into any of the moderne tongues, so as to make the same intelligible; or into any tolerable latine, such as they were acquainted withall, that lived when the latine tongue was vulgar. what is the meaning of these words. "the first cause does not necessarily inflow any thing into the second, by force of the essential subordination of the second causes, by which it may help it to worke?" they are the translation of the title of the sixth chapter of suarez first booke, of the concourse, motion, and help of god. when men write whole volumes of such stuffe, are they not mad, or intend to make others so? and particularly, in the question of transubstantiation; where after certain words spoken, they that say, the white-nesse, round-nesse, magni-tude, quali-ty, corruptibili-ty, all which are incorporeall, &c. go out of the wafer, into the body of our blessed saviour, do they not make those nesses, tudes and ties, to be so many spirits possessing his body? for by spirits, they mean alwayes things, that being incorporeall, are neverthelesse moveable from one place to another. so that this kind of absurdity, may rightly be numbred amongst the many sorts of madnesse; and all the time that guided by clear thoughts of their worldly lust, they forbear disputing, or writing thus, but lucide intervals. and thus much of the vertues and defects intellectuall. chapter ix. of the severall subjects of knowledge there are of knowledge two kinds; whereof one is knowledge of fact: the other knowledge of the consequence of one affirmation to another. the former is nothing else, but sense and memory, and is absolute knowledge; as when we see a fact doing, or remember it done: and this is the knowledge required in a witnesse. the later is called science; and is conditionall; as when we know, that, if the figure showne be a circle, then any straight line through the centre shall divide it into two equall parts. and this is the knowledge required in a philosopher; that is to say, of him that pretends to reasoning. the register of knowledge of fact is called history. whereof there be two sorts: one called naturall history; which is the history of such facts, or effects of nature, as have no dependance on mans will; such as are the histories of metals, plants, animals, regions, and the like. the other, is civill history; which is the history of the voluntary actions of men in common-wealths. the registers of science, are such books as contain the demonstrations of consequences of one affirmation, to another; and are commonly called books of philosophy; whereof the sorts are many, according to the diversity of the matter; and may be divided in such manner as i have divided them in the following table. i. science, that is, knowledge of consequences; which is called also philosophy a. consequences from accidents of bodies naturall; which is called naturall philosophy . consequences from the accidents common to all bodies naturall; which are quantity, and motion. a. consequences from quantity, and motion indeterminate; which, being the principles or first foundation of philosophy, is called philosophia prima philosophia prima b. consequences from motion, and quantity determined ) consequences from quantity, and motion determined a) by figure, by number ] mathematiques, geometry arithmetique ) consequences from the motion, and quantity of bodies in speciall a) consequences from the motion, and quantity of the great parts of the world, as the earth and stars, ] cosmography astronomy geography b) consequences from the motion of speciall kinds, and figures of body, ] mechaniques, doctrine of weight science of engineers architecture navigation . physiques, or consequences from qualities a. consequences from the qualities of bodies transient, such as sometimes appear, sometimes vanish meteorology b. consequences from the qualities of bodies permanent ) consequences from the qualities of the starres a) consequences from the light of the starres. out of this, and the motion of the sunne, is made the science of sciography b) consequences from the influence of the starres, astrology ) consequences of the qualities from liquid bodies that fill the space between the starres; such as are the ayre, or substance aetherial. ) consequences from qualities of bodies terrestrial a) consequences from parts of the earth that are without sense, ] consequences from qualities of minerals, as stones, metals, &c . ] consequences from the qualities of vegetables b) consequences from qualities of animals ] consequences from qualities of animals in generall a] consequences from vision, optiques b] consequences from sounds, musique c] consequences from the rest of the senses ] consequences from qualities of men in speciall a] consequences from passions of men, ethiques b] consequences from speech, i) in magnifying, vilifying, etc. poetry ii) in persuading, rhetorique iii) in reasoning, logique iv) in contracting, the science of just and unjust b. consequences from the accidents of politique bodies; which is called politiques, and civill philosophy . of consequences from the institution of common-wealths, to the rights, and duties of the body politique, or soveraign. . of consequences from the same, to the duty and right of the subjects. chapter x. of power, worth, dignity, honour and worthiness power the power of a man, (to take it universally,) is his present means, to obtain some future apparent good. and is either originall, or instrumentall. naturall power, is the eminence of the faculties of body, or mind: as extraordinary strength, forme, prudence, arts, eloquence, liberality, nobility. instrumentall are those powers, which acquired by these, or by fortune, are means and instruments to acquire more: as riches, reputation, friends, and the secret working of god, which men call good luck. for the nature of power, is in this point, like to fame, increasing as it proceeds; or like the motion of heavy bodies, which the further they go, make still the more hast. the greatest of humane powers, is that which is compounded of the powers of most men, united by consent, in one person, naturall, or civill, that has the use of all their powers depending on his will; such as is the power of a common-wealth: or depending on the wills of each particular; such as is the power of a faction, or of divers factions leagued. therefore to have servants, is power; to have friends, is power: for they are strengths united. also riches joyned with liberality, is power; because it procureth friends, and servants: without liberality, not so; because in this case they defend not; but expose men to envy, as a prey. reputation of power, is power; because it draweth with it the adhaerance of those that need protection. so is reputation of love of a mans country, (called popularity,) for the same reason. also, what quality soever maketh a man beloved, or feared of many; or the reputation of such quality, is power; because it is a means to have the assistance, and service of many. good successe is power; because it maketh reputation of wisdome, or good fortune; which makes men either feare him, or rely on him. affability of men already in power, is encrease of power; because it gaineth love. reputation of prudence in the conduct of peace or war, is power; because to prudent men, we commit the government of our selves, more willingly than to others. nobility is power, not in all places, but onely in those common-wealths, where it has priviledges: for in such priviledges consisteth their power. eloquence is power; because it is seeming prudence. forme is power; because being a promise of good, it recommendeth men to the favour of women and strangers. the sciences, are small power; because not eminent; and therefore, not acknowledged in any man; nor are at all, but in a few; and in them, but of a few things. for science is of that nature, as none can understand it to be, but such as in a good measure have attayned it. arts of publique use, as fortification, making of engines, and other instruments of war; because they conferre to defence, and victory, are power; and though the true mother of them, be science, namely the mathematiques; yet, because they are brought into the light, by the hand of the artificer, they be esteemed (the midwife passing with the vulgar for the mother,) as his issue. worth the value, or worth of a man, is as of all other things, his price; that is to say, so much as would be given for the use of his power: and therefore is not absolute; but a thing dependant on the need and judgement of another. an able conductor of souldiers, is of great price in time of war present, or imminent; but in peace not so. a learned and uncorrupt judge, is much worth in time of peace; but not so much in war. and as in other things, so in men, not the seller, but the buyer determines the price. for let a man (as most men do,) rate themselves as the highest value they can; yet their true value is no more than it is esteemed by others. the manifestation of the value we set on one another, is that which is commonly called honouring, and dishonouring. to value a man at a high rate, is to honour him; at a low rate, is to dishonour him. but high, and low, in this case, is to be understood by comparison to the rate that each man setteth on himselfe. dignity the publique worth of a man, which is the value set on him by the common-wealth, is that which men commonly call dignity. and this value of him by the common-wealth, is understood, by offices of command, judicature, publike employment; or by names and titles, introduced for distinction of such value. to honour and dishonour to pray to another, for ayde of any kind, is to honour; because a signe we have an opinion he has power to help; and the more difficult the ayde is, the more is the honour. to obey, is to honour; because no man obeyes them, whom they think have no power to help, or hurt them. and consequently to disobey, is to dishonour. to give great gifts to a man, is to honour him; because 'tis buying of protection, and acknowledging of power. to give little gifts, is to dishonour; because it is but almes, and signifies an opinion of the need of small helps. to be sedulous in promoting anothers good; also to flatter, is to honour; as a signe we seek his protection or ayde. to neglect, is to dishonour. to give way, or place to another, in any commodity, is to honour; being a confession of greater power. to arrogate, is to dishonour. to shew any signe of love, or feare of another, is to honour; for both to love, and to feare, is to value. to contemne, or lesse to love or feare then he expects, is to dishonour; for 'tis undervaluing. to praise, magnifie, or call happy, is to honour; because nothing but goodnesse, power, and felicity is valued. to revile, mock, or pitty, is to dishonour. to speak to another with consideration, to appear before him with decency, and humility, is to honour him; as signes of fear to offend. to speak to him rashly, to do anything before him obscenely, slovenly, impudently, is to dishonour. to believe, to trust, to rely on another, is to honour him; signe of opinion of his vertue and power. to distrust, or not believe, is to dishonour. to hearken to a mans counsell, or discourse of what kind soever, is to honour; as a signe we think him wise, or eloquent, or witty. to sleep, or go forth, or talk the while, is to dishonour. to do those things to another, which he takes for signes of honour, or which the law or custome makes so, is to honour; because in approving the honour done by others, he acknowledgeth the power which others acknowledge. to refuse to do them, is to dishonour. to agree with in opinion, is to honour; as being a signe of approving his judgement, and wisdome. to dissent, is dishonour; and an upbraiding of errour; and (if the dissent be in many things) of folly. to imitate, is to honour; for it is vehemently to approve. to imitate ones enemy, is to dishonour. to honour those another honours, is to honour him; as a signe of approbation of his judgement. to honour his enemies, is to dishonour him. to employ in counsell, or in actions of difficulty, is to honour; as a signe of opinion of his wisdome, or other power. to deny employment in the same cases, to those that seek it, is to dishonour. all these wayes of honouring, are naturall; and as well within, as without common-wealths. but in common-wealths, where he, or they that have the supreme authority, can make whatsoever they please, to stand for signes of honour, there be other honours. a soveraigne doth honour a subject, with whatsoever title, or office, or employment, or action, that he himselfe will have taken for a signe of his will to honour him. the king of persia, honoured mordecay, when he appointed he should be conducted through the streets in the kings garment, upon one of the kings horses, with a crown on his head, and a prince before him, proclayming, "thus shall it be done to him that the king will honour." and yet another king of persia, or the same another time, to one that demanded for some great service, to weare one of the kings robes, gave him leave so to do; but with his addition, that he should weare it as the kings foole; and then it was dishonour. so that of civill honour; such as are magistracy, offices, titles; and in some places coats, and scutchions painted: and men honour such as have them, as having so many signes of favour in the common-wealth; which favour is power. honourable is whatsoever possession, action, or quality, is an argument and signe of power. and therefore to be honoured, loved, or feared of many, is honourable; as arguments of power. to be honoured of few or none, dishonourable. good fortune (if lasting,) honourable; as a signe of the favour of god. ill fortune, and losses, dishonourable. riches, are honourable; for they are power. poverty, dishonourable. magnanimity, liberality, hope, courage, confidence, are honourable; for they proceed from the conscience of power. pusillanimity, parsimony, fear, diffidence, are dishonourable. timely resolution, or determination of what a man is to do, is honourable; as being the contempt of small difficulties, and dangers. and irresolution, dishonourable; as a signe of too much valuing of little impediments, and little advantages: for when a man has weighed things as long as the time permits, and resolves not, the difference of weight is but little; and therefore if he resolve not, he overvalues little things, which is pusillanimity. all actions, and speeches, that proceed, or seem to proceed from much experience, science, discretion, or wit, are honourable; for all these are powers. actions, or words that proceed from errour, ignorance, or folly, dishonourable. gravity, as farre forth as it seems to proceed from a mind employed on some thing else, is honourable; because employment is a signe of power. but if it seem to proceed from a purpose to appear grave, it is dishonourable. for the gravity of the former, is like the steddinesse of a ship laden with merchandise; but of the later, like the steddinesse of a ship ballasted with sand, and other trash. to be conspicuous, that is to say, to be known, for wealth, office, great actions, or any eminent good, is honourable; as a signe of the power for which he is conspicuous. on the contrary, obscurity, is dishonourable. to be descended from conspicuous parents, is honourable; because they the more easily attain the aydes, and friends of their ancestors. on the contrary, to be descended from obscure parentage, is dishonourable. actions proceeding from equity, joyned with losse, are honourable; as signes of magnanimity: for magnanimity is a signe of power. on the contrary, craft, shifting, neglect of equity, is dishonourable. nor does it alter the case of honour, whether an action (so it be great and difficult, and consequently a signe of much power,) be just or unjust: for honour consisteth onely in the opinion of power. therefore the ancient heathen did not thinke they dishonoured, but greatly honoured the gods, when they introduced them in their poems, committing rapes, thefts, and other great, but unjust, or unclean acts: in so much as nothing is so much celebrated in jupiter, as his adulteries; nor in mercury, as his frauds, and thefts: of whose praises, in a hymne of homer, the greatest is this, that being born in the morning, he had invented musique at noon, and before night, stolen away the cattell of appollo, from his herdsmen. also amongst men, till there were constituted great common-wealths, it was thought no dishonour to be a pyrate, or a high-way theefe; but rather a lawfull trade, not onely amongst the greeks, but also amongst all other nations; as is manifest by the histories of antient time. and at this day, in this part of the world, private duels are, and alwayes will be honourable, though unlawfull, till such time as there shall be honour ordained for them that refuse, and ignominy for them that make the challenge. for duels also are many times effects of courage; and the ground of courage is alwayes strength or skill, which are power; though for the most part they be effects of rash speaking, and of the fear of dishonour, in one, or both the combatants; who engaged by rashnesse, are driven into the lists to avoyd disgrace. scutchions, and coats of armes haereditary, where they have any eminent priviledges, are honourable; otherwise not: for their power consisteth either in such priviledges, or in riches, or some such thing as is equally honoured in other men. this kind of honour, commonly called gentry, has been derived from the antient germans. for there never was any such thing known, where the german customes were unknown. nor is it now any where in use, where the germans have not inhabited. the antient greek commanders, when they went to war, had their shields painted with such devises as they pleased; insomuch as an unpainted buckler was a signe of poverty, and of a common souldier: but they transmitted not the inheritance of them. the romans transmitted the marks of their families: but they were the images, not the devises of their ancestors. amongst the people of asia, afrique, and america, there is not, nor was ever, any such thing. the germans onely had that custome; from whom it has been derived into england, france, spain, and italy, when in great numbers they either ayded the romans, or made their own conquests in these westerne parts of the world. for germany, being antiently, as all other countries, in their beginnings, divided amongst an infinite number of little lords, or masters of families, that continually had wars one with another; those masters, or lords, principally to the end they might, when they were covered with arms, be known by their followers; and partly for ornament, both painted their armor, or their scutchion, or coat, with the picture of some beast, or other thing; and also put some eminent and visible mark upon the crest of their helmets. and his ornament both of the armes, and crest, descended by inheritance to their children; to the eldest pure, and to the rest with some note of diversity, such as the old master, that is to say in dutch, the here-alt thought fit. but when many such families, joyned together, made a greater monarchy, this duty of the herealt, to distinguish scutchions, was made a private office a part. and the issue of these lords, is the great and antient gentry; which for the most part bear living creatures, noted for courage, and rapine; or castles, battlements, belts, weapons, bars, palisadoes, and other notes of war; nothing being then in honour, but vertue military. afterwards, not onely kings, but popular common-wealths, gave divers manners of scutchions, to such as went forth to the war, or returned from it, for encouragement, or recompence to their service. all which, by an observing reader, may be found in such ancient histories, greek and latine, as make mention of the german nation, and manners, in their times. titles of honour titles of honour, such as are duke, count, marquis, and baron, are honourable; as signifying the value set upon them by the soveraigne power of the common-wealth: which titles, were in old time titles of office, and command, derived some from the romans, some from the germans, and french. dukes, in latine duces, being generalls in war: counts, comites, such as bare the generall company out of friendship; and were left to govern and defend places conquered, and pacified: marquises, marchiones, were counts that governed the marches, or bounds of the empire. which titles of duke, count, and marquis, came into the empire, about the time of constantine the great, from the customes of the german militia. but baron, seems to have been a title of the gaules, and signifies a great man; such as were the kings, or princes men, whom they employed in war about their persons; and seems to be derived from vir, to ber, and bar, that signified the same in the language of the gaules, that vir in latine; and thence to bero, and baro: so that such men were called berones, and after barones; and (in spanish) varones. but he that would know more particularly the originall of titles of honour, may find it, as i have done this, in mr. seldens most excellent treatise of that subject. in processe of time these offices of honour, by occasion of trouble, and for reasons of good and peacable government, were turned into meer titles; serving for the most part, to distinguish the precedence, place, and order of subjects in the common-wealth: and men were made dukes, counts, marquises, and barons of places, wherein they had neither possession, nor command: and other titles also, were devised to the same end. worthinesse fitnesse worthinesse, is a thing different from the worth, or value of a man; and also from his merit, or desert; and consisteth in a particular power, or ability for that, whereof he is said to be worthy: which particular ability, is usually named fitnesse, or aptitude. for he is worthiest to be a commander, to be a judge, or to have any other charge, that is best fitted, with the qualities required to the well discharging of it; and worthiest of riches, that has the qualities most requisite for the well using of them: any of which qualities being absent, one may neverthelesse be a worthy man, and valuable for some thing else. again, a man may be worthy of riches, office, and employment, that neverthelesse, can plead no right to have it before another; and therefore cannot be said to merit or deserve it. for merit, praesupposeth a right, and that the thing deserved is due by promise: of which i shall say more hereafter, when i shall speak of contracts. chapter xi. of the difference of manners what is here meant by manners by manners, i mean not here, decency of behaviour; as how one man should salute another, or how a man should wash his mouth, or pick his teeth before company, and such other points of the small morals; but those qualities of man-kind, that concern their living together in peace, and unity. to which end we are to consider, that the felicity of this life, consisteth not in the repose of a mind satisfied. for there is no such finis ultimus, (utmost ayme,) nor summum bonum, (greatest good,) as is spoken of in the books of the old morall philosophers. nor can a man any more live, whose desires are at an end, than he, whose senses and imaginations are at a stand. felicity is a continuall progresse of the desire, from one object to another; the attaining of the former, being still but the way to the later. the cause whereof is, that the object of mans desire, is not to enjoy once onely, and for one instant of time; but to assure for ever, the way of his future desire. and therefore the voluntary actions, and inclinations of all men, tend, not only to the procuring, but also to the assuring of a contented life; and differ onely in the way: which ariseth partly from the diversity of passions, in divers men; and partly from the difference of the knowledge, or opinion each one has of the causes, which produce the effect desired. a restlesse desire of power, in all men so that in the first place, i put for a generall inclination of all mankind, a perpetuall and restlesse desire of power after power, that ceaseth onely in death. and the cause of this, is not alwayes that a man hopes for a more intensive delight, than he has already attained to; or that he cannot be content with a moderate power: but because he cannot assure the power and means to live well, which he hath present, without the acquisition of more. and from hence it is, that kings, whose power is greatest, turn their endeavours to the assuring it a home by lawes, or abroad by wars: and when that is done, there succeedeth a new desire; in some, of fame from new conquest; in others, of ease and sensuall pleasure; in others, of admiration, or being flattered for excellence in some art, or other ability of the mind. love of contention from competition competition of riches, honour, command, or other power, enclineth to contention, enmity, and war: because the way of one competitor, to the attaining of his desire, is to kill, subdue, supplant, or repell the other. particularly, competition of praise, enclineth to a reverence of antiquity. for men contend with the living, not with the dead; to these ascribing more than due, that they may obscure the glory of the other. civil obedience from love of ease desire of ease, and sensuall delight, disposeth men to obey a common power: because by such desires, a man doth abandon the protection might be hoped for from his own industry, and labour. from feare of death or wounds fear of death, and wounds, disposeth to the same; and for the same reason. on the contrary, needy men, and hardy, not contented with their present condition; as also, all men that are ambitious of military command, are enclined to continue the causes of warre; and to stirre up trouble and sedition: for there is no honour military but by warre; nor any such hope to mend an ill game, as by causing a new shuffle. and from love of arts desire of knowledge, and arts of peace, enclineth men to obey a common power: for such desire, containeth a desire of leasure; and consequently protection from some other power than their own. love of vertue, from love of praise desire of praise, disposeth to laudable actions, such as please them whose judgement they value; for of these men whom we contemn, we contemn also the praises. desire of fame after death does the same. and though after death, there be no sense of the praise given us on earth, as being joyes, that are either swallowed up in the unspeakable joyes of heaven, or extinguished in the extreme torments of hell: yet is not such fame vain; because men have a present delight therein, from the foresight of it, and of the benefit that may rebound thereby to their posterity: which though they now see not, yet they imagine; and any thing that is pleasure in the sense, the same also is pleasure in the imagination. hate, from difficulty of requiting great benefits to have received from one, to whom we think our selves equall, greater benefits than there is hope to requite, disposeth to counterfiet love; but really secret hatred; and puts a man into the estate of a desperate debtor, that in declining the sight of his creditor, tacitely wishes him there, where he might never see him more. for benefits oblige; and obligation is thraldome; which is to ones equall, hateful. but to have received benefits from one, whom we acknowledge our superiour, enclines to love; because the obligation is no new depession: and cheerfull acceptation, (which men call gratitude,) is such an honour done to the obliger, as is taken generally for retribution. also to receive benefits, though from an equall, or inferiour, as long as there is hope of requitall, disposeth to love: for in the intention of the receiver, the obligation is of ayd, and service mutuall; from whence proceedeth an emulation of who shall exceed in benefiting; the most noble and profitable contention possible; wherein the victor is pleased with his victory, and the other revenged by confessing it. and from conscience of deserving to be hated to have done more hurt to a man, than he can, or is willing to expiate, enclineth the doer to hate the sufferer. for he must expect revenge, or forgivenesse; both which are hatefull. promptnesse to hurt, from fear feare of oppression, disposeth a man to anticipate, or to seek ayd by society: for there is no other way by which a man can secure his life and liberty. and from distrust of their own wit men that distrust their own subtilty, are in tumult, and sedition, better disposed for victory, than they that suppose themselves wise, or crafty. for these love to consult, the other (fearing to be circumvented,) to strike first. and in sedition, men being alwayes in the procincts of battell, to hold together, and use all advantages of force, is a better stratagem, than any that can proceed from subtilty of wit. vain undertaking from vain-glory vain-glorious men, such as without being conscious to themselves of great sufficiency, delight in supposing themselves gallant men, are enclined onely to ostentation; but not to attempt: because when danger or difficulty appears, they look for nothing but to have their insufficiency discovered. vain-glorious men, such as estimate their sufficiency by the flattery of other men, or the fortune of some precedent action, without assured ground of hope from the true knowledge of themselves, are enclined to rash engaging; and in the approach of danger, or difficulty, to retire if they can: because not seeing the way of safety, they will rather hazard their honour, which may be salved with an excuse; than their lives, for which no salve is sufficient. ambition, from opinion of sufficiency men that have a strong opinion of their own wisdome in matter of government, are disposed to ambition. because without publique employment in counsell or magistracy, the honour of their wisdome is lost. and therefore eloquent speakers are enclined to ambition; for eloquence seemeth wisdome, both to themselves and others irresolution, from too great valuing of small matters pusillanimity disposeth men to irresolution, and consequently to lose the occasions, and fittest opportunities of action. for after men have been in deliberation till the time of action approach, if it be not then manifest what is best to be done, tis a signe, the difference of motives, the one way and the other, are not great: therefore not to resolve then, is to lose the occasion by weighing of trifles; which is pusillanimity. frugality,(though in poor men a vertue,) maketh a man unapt to atchieve such actions, as require the strength of many men at once: for it weakeneth their endeavour, which is to be nourished and kept in vigor by reward. confidence in others from ignorance of the marks of wisdome and kindnesse eloquence, with flattery, disposeth men to confide in them that have it; because the former is seeming wisdome, the later seeming kindnesse. adde to them military reputation, and it disposeth men to adhaere, and subject themselves to those men that have them. the two former, having given them caution against danger from him; the later gives them caution against danger from others. and from the ignorance of naturall causes want of science, that is, ignorance of causes, disposeth, or rather constraineth a man to rely on the advise, and authority of others. for all men whom the truth concernes, if they rely not on their own, must rely on the opinion of some other, whom they think wiser than themselves, and see not why he should deceive them. and from want of understanding ignorance of the signification of words; which is, want of understanding, disposeth men to take on trust, not onely the truth they know not; but also the errors; and which is more, the non-sense of them they trust: for neither error, nor non-sense, can without a perfect understanding of words, be detected. from the same it proceedeth, that men give different names, to one and the same thing, from the difference of their own passions: as they that approve a private opinion, call it opinion; but they that mislike it, haeresie: and yet haeresie signifies no more than private opinion; but has onely a greater tincture of choler. from the same also it proceedeth, that men cannot distinguish, without study and great understanding, between one action of many men, and many actions of one multitude; as for example, between the one action of all the senators of rome in killing catiline, and the many actions of a number of senators in killing caesar; and therefore are disposed to take for the action of the people, that which is a multitude of actions done by a multitude of men, led perhaps by the perswasion of one. adhaerence to custome, from ignorance of the nature of right and wrong ignorance of the causes, and originall constitution of right, equity, law, and justice, disposeth a man to make custome and example the rule of his actions; in such manner, as to think that unjust which it hath been the custome to punish; and that just, of the impunity and approbation whereof they can produce an example, or (as the lawyers which onely use the false measure of justice barbarously call it) a precedent; like little children, that have no other rule of good and evill manners, but the correction they receive from their parents, and masters; save that children are constant to their rule, whereas men are not so; because grown strong, and stubborn, they appeale from custome to reason, and from reason to custome, as it serves their turn; receding from custome when their interest requires it, and setting themselves against reason, as oft as reason is against them: which is the cause, that the doctrine of right and wrong, is perpetually disputed, both by the pen and the sword: whereas the doctrine of lines, and figures, is not so; because men care not, in that subject what be truth, as a thing that crosses no mans ambition, profit, or lust. for i doubt not, but if it had been a thing contrary to any mans right of dominion, or to the interest of men that have dominion, that the three angles of a triangle should be equall to two angles of a square; that doctrine should have been, if not disputed, yet by the burning of all books of geometry, suppressed, as farre as he whom it concerned was able. adhaerence to private men, from ignorance of the causes of peace ignorance of remote causes, disposeth men to attribute all events, to the causes immediate, and instrumentall: for these are all the causes they perceive. and hence it comes to passe, that in all places, men that are grieved with payments to the publique, discharge their anger upon the publicans, that is to say, farmers, collectors, and other officers of the publique revenue; and adhaere to such as find fault with the publike government; and thereby, when they have engaged themselves beyond hope of justification, fall also upon the supreme authority, for feare of punishment, or shame of receiving pardon. credulity from ignorance of nature ignorance of naturall causes disposeth a man to credulity, so as to believe many times impossibilities: for such know nothing to the contrary, but that they may be true; being unable to detect the impossibility. and credulity, because men love to be hearkened unto in company, disposeth them to lying: so that ignorance it selfe without malice, is able to make a man bothe to believe lyes, and tell them; and sometimes also to invent them. curiosity to know, from care of future time anxiety for the future time, disposeth men to enquire into the causes of things: because the knowledge of them, maketh men the better able to order the present to their best advantage. naturall religion, from the same curiosity, or love of the knowledge of causes, draws a man from consideration of the effect, to seek the cause; and again, the cause of that cause; till of necessity he must come to this thought at last, that there is some cause, whereof there is no former cause, but is eternall; which is it men call god. so that it is impossible to make any profound enquiry into naturall causes, without being enclined thereby to believe there is one god eternall; though they cannot have any idea of him in their mind, answerable to his nature. for as a man that is born blind, hearing men talk of warming themselves by the fire, and being brought to warm himself by the same, may easily conceive, and assure himselfe, there is somewhat there, which men call fire, and is the cause of the heat he feeles; but cannot imagine what it is like; nor have an idea of it in his mind, such as they have that see it: so also, by the visible things of this world, and their admirable order, a man may conceive there is a cause of them, which men call god; and yet not have an idea, or image of him in his mind. and they that make little, or no enquiry into the naturall causes of things, yet from the feare that proceeds from the ignorance it selfe, of what it is that hath the power to do them much good or harm, are enclined to suppose, and feign unto themselves, severall kinds of powers invisible; and to stand in awe of their own imaginations; and in time of distresse to invoke them; as also in the time of an expected good successe, to give them thanks; making the creatures of their own fancy, their gods. by which means it hath come to passe, that from the innumerable variety of fancy, men have created in the world innumerable sorts of gods. and this feare of things invisible, is the naturall seed of that, which every one in himself calleth religion; and in them that worship, or feare that power otherwise than they do, superstition. and this seed of religion, having been observed by many; some of those that have observed it, have been enclined thereby to nourish, dresse, and forme it into lawes; and to adde to it of their own invention, any opinion of the causes of future events, by which they thought they should best be able to govern others, and make unto themselves the greatest use of their powers. chapter xii. of religion religion, in man onely seeing there are no signes, nor fruit of religion, but in man onely; there is no cause to doubt, but that the seed of religion, is also onely in man; and consisteth in some peculiar quality, or at least in some eminent degree thereof, not to be found in other living creatures. first, from his desire of knowing causes and first, it is peculiar to the nature of man, to be inquisitive into the causes of the events they see, some more, some lesse; but all men so much, as to be curious in the search of the causes of their own good and evill fortune. from the consideration of the beginning of things secondly, upon the sight of any thing that hath a beginning, to think also it had a cause, which determined the same to begin, then when it did, rather than sooner or later. from his observation of the sequell of things thirdly, whereas there is no other felicity of beasts, but the enjoying of their quotidian food, ease, and lusts; as having little, or no foresight of the time to come, for want of observation, and memory of the order, consequence, and dependance of the things they see; man observeth how one event hath been produced by another; and remembreth in them antecedence and consequence; and when he cannot assure himselfe of the true causes of things, (for the causes of good and evill fortune for the most part are invisible,) he supposes causes of them, either such as his own fancy suggesteth; or trusteth to the authority of other men, such as he thinks to be his friends, and wiser than himselfe. the naturall cause of religion, the anxiety of the time to come the two first, make anxiety. for being assured that there be causes of all things that have arrived hitherto, or shall arrive hereafter; it is impossible for a man, who continually endeavoureth to secure himselfe against the evill he feares, and procure the good he desireth, not to be in a perpetuall solicitude of the time to come; so that every man, especially those that are over provident, are in an estate like to that of prometheus. for as prometheus, (which interpreted, is, the prudent man,) was bound to the hill caucasus, a place of large prospect, where, an eagle feeding on his liver, devoured in the day, as much as was repayred in the night: so that man, which looks too far before him, in the care of future time, hath his heart all the day long, gnawed on by feare of death, poverty, or other calamity; and has no repose, nor pause of his anxiety, but in sleep. which makes them fear the power of invisible things this perpetuall feare, alwayes accompanying mankind in the ignorance of causes, as it were in the dark, must needs have for object something. and therefore when there is nothing to be seen, there is nothing to accuse, either of their good, or evill fortune, but some power, or agent invisible: in which sense perhaps it was, that some of the old poets said, that the gods were at first created by humane feare: which spoken of the gods, (that is to say, of the many gods of the gentiles) is very true. but the acknowledging of one god eternall, infinite, and omnipotent, may more easily be derived, from the desire men have to know the causes of naturall bodies, and their severall vertues, and operations; than from the feare of what was to befall them in time to come. for he that from any effect hee seeth come to passe, should reason to the next and immediate cause thereof, and from thence to the cause of that cause, and plonge himselfe profoundly in the pursuit of causes; shall at last come to this, that there must be (as even the heathen philosophers confessed) one first mover; that is, a first, and an eternall cause of all things; which is that which men mean by the name of god: and all this without thought of their fortune; the solicitude whereof, both enclines to fear, and hinders them from the search of the causes of other things; and thereby gives occasion of feigning of as many gods, as there be men that feigne them. and suppose them incorporeall and for the matter, or substance of the invisible agents, so fancyed; they could not by naturall cogitation, fall upon any other conceipt, but that it was the same with that of the soule of man; and that the soule of man, was of the same substance, with that which appeareth in a dream, to one that sleepeth; or in a looking-glasse, to one that is awake; which, men not knowing that such apparitions are nothing else but creatures of the fancy, think to be reall, and externall substances; and therefore call them ghosts; as the latines called them imagines, and umbrae; and thought them spirits, that is, thin aereall bodies; and those invisible agents, which they feared, to bee like them; save that they appear, and vanish when they please. but the opinion that such spirits were incorporeall, or immateriall, could never enter into the mind of any man by nature; because, though men may put together words of contradictory signification, as spirit, and incorporeall; yet they can never have the imagination of any thing answering to them: and therefore, men that by their own meditation, arrive to the acknowledgement of one infinite, omnipotent, and eternall god, choose rather to confesse he is incomprehensible, and above their understanding; than to define his nature by spirit incorporeall, and then confesse their definition to be unintelligible: or if they give him such a title, it is not dogmatically, with intention to make the divine nature understood; but piously, to honour him with attributes, of significations, as remote as they can from the grossenesse of bodies visible. but know not the way how they effect anything then, for the way by which they think these invisible agents wrought their effects; that is to say, what immediate causes they used, in bringing things to passe, men that know not what it is that we call causing, (that is, almost all men) have no other rule to guesse by, but by observing, and remembring what they have seen to precede the like effect at some other time, or times before, without seeing between the antecedent and subsequent event, any dependance or connexion at all: and therefore from the like things past, they expect the like things to come; and hope for good or evill luck, superstitiously, from things that have no part at all in the causing of it: as the athenians did for their war at lepanto, demand another phormio; the pompeian faction for their warre in afrique, another scipio; and others have done in divers other occasions since. in like manner they attribute their fortune to a stander by, to a lucky or unlucky place, to words spoken, especially if the name of god be amongst them; as charming, and conjuring (the leiturgy of witches;) insomuch as to believe, they have power to turn a stone into bread, bread into a man, or any thing, into any thing. but honour them as they honour men thirdly, for the worship which naturally men exhibite to powers invisible, it can be no other, but such expressions of their reverence, as they would use towards men; gifts, petitions, thanks, submission of body, considerate addresses, sober behaviour, premeditated words, swearing (that is, assuring one another of their promises,) by invoking them. beyond that reason suggesteth nothing; but leaves them either to rest there; or for further ceremonies, to rely on those they believe to be wiser than themselves. and attribute to them all extraordinary events lastly, concerning how these invisible powers declare to men the things which shall hereafter come to passe, especially concerning their good or evill fortune in generall, or good or ill successe in any particular undertaking, men are naturally at a stand; save that using to conjecture of the time to come, by the time past, they are very apt, not onely to take casuall things, after one or two encounters, for prognostiques of the like encounter ever after, but also to believe the like prognostiques from other men, of whom they have once conceived a good opinion. foure things, naturall seeds of religion and in these foure things, opinion of ghosts, ignorance of second causes, devotion towards what men fear, and taking of things casuall for prognostiques, consisteth the naturall seed of religion; which by reason of the different fancies, judgements, and passions of severall men, hath grown up into ceremonies so different, that those which are used by one man, are for the most part ridiculous to another. made different by culture for these seeds have received culture from two sorts of men. one sort have been they, that have nourished, and ordered them, according to their own invention. the other, have done it, by gods commandement, and direction: but both sorts have done it, with a purpose to make those men that relyed on them, the more apt to obedience, lawes, peace, charity, and civill society. so that the religion of the former sort, is a part of humane politiques; and teacheth part of the duty which earthly kings require of their subjects. and the religion of the later sort is divine politiques; and containeth precepts to those that have yeelded themselves subjects in the kingdome of god. of the former sort, were all the founders of common-wealths, and the law-givers of the gentiles: of the later sort, were abraham, moses, and our blessed saviour; by whom have been derived unto us the lawes of the kingdome of god. the absurd opinion of gentilisme and for that part of religion, which consisteth in opinions concerning the nature of powers invisible, there is almost nothing that has a name, that has not been esteemed amongst the gentiles, in one place or another, a god, or divell; or by their poets feigned to be inanimated, inhabited, or possessed by some spirit or other. the unformed matter of the world, was a god, by the name of chaos. the heaven, the ocean, the planets, the fire, the earth, the winds, were so many gods. men, women, a bird, a crocodile, a calf, a dogge, a snake, an onion, a leeke, deified. besides, that they filled almost all places, with spirits called daemons; the plains, with pan, and panises, or satyres; the woods, with fawnes, and nymphs; the sea, with tritons, and other nymphs; every river, and fountayn, with a ghost of his name, and with nymphs; every house, with it lares, or familiars; every man, with his genius; hell, with ghosts, and spirituall officers, as charon, cerberus, and the furies; and in the night time, all places with larvae, lemures, ghosts of men deceased, and a whole kingdome of fayries, and bugbears. they have also ascribed divinity, and built temples to meer accidents, and qualities; such as are time, night, day, peace, concord, love, contention, vertue, honour, health, rust, fever, and the like; which when they prayed for, or against, they prayed to, as if there were ghosts of those names hanging over their heads, and letting fall, or withholding that good, or evill, for, or against which they prayed. they invoked also their own wit, by the name of muses; their own ignorance, by the name of fortune; their own lust, by the name of cupid; their own rage, by the name furies; their own privy members by the name of priapus; and attributed their pollutions, to incubi, and succubae: insomuch as there was nothing, which a poet could introduce as a person in his poem, which they did not make either a god, or a divel. the same authors of the religion of the gentiles, observing the second ground for religion, which is mens ignorance of causes; and thereby their aptnesse to attribute their fortune to causes, on which there was no dependence at all apparent, took occasion to obtrude on their ignorance, in stead of second causes, a kind of second and ministeriall gods; ascribing the cause of foecundity, to venus; the cause of arts, to apollo; of subtilty and craft, to mercury; of tempests and stormes, to aeolus; and of other effects, to other gods: insomuch as there was amongst the heathen almost as great variety of gods, as of businesse. and to the worship, which naturally men conceived fit to bee used towards their gods, namely oblations, prayers, thanks, and the rest formerly named; the same legislators of the gentiles have added their images, both in picture, and sculpture; that the more ignorant sort, (that is to say, the most part, or generality of the people,) thinking the gods for whose representation they were made, were really included, and as it were housed within them, might so much the more stand in feare of them: and endowed them with lands, and houses, and officers, and revenues, set apart from all other humane uses; that is, consecrated, and made holy to those their idols; as caverns, groves, woods, mountains, and whole ilands; and have attributed to them, not onely the shapes, some of men, some of beasts, some of monsters; but also the faculties, and passions of men and beasts; as sense, speech, sex, lust, generation, (and this not onely by mixing one with another, to propagate the kind of gods; but also by mixing with men, and women, to beget mongrill gods, and but inmates of heaven, as bacchus, hercules, and others;) besides, anger, revenge, and other passions of living creatures, and the actions proceeding from them, as fraud, theft, adultery, sodomie, and any vice that may be taken for an effect of power, or a cause of pleasure; and all such vices, as amongst men are taken to be against law, rather than against honour. lastly, to the prognostiques of time to come; which are naturally, but conjectures upon the experience of time past; and supernaturall, divine revelation; the same authors of the religion of the gentiles, partly upon pretended experience, partly upon pretended revelation, have added innumerable other superstitious wayes of divination; and made men believe they should find their fortunes, sometimes in the ambiguous or senslesse answers of the priests at delphi, delos, ammon, and other famous oracles; which answers, were made ambiguous by designe, to own the event both wayes; or absurd by the intoxicating vapour of the place, which is very frequent in sulphurous cavernes: sometimes in the leaves of the sibills; of whose prophecyes (like those perhaps of nostradamus; for the fragments now extant seem to be the invention of later times) there were some books in reputation in the time of the roman republique: sometimes in the insignificant speeches of mad-men, supposed to be possessed with a divine spirit; which possession they called enthusiasme; and these kinds of foretelling events, were accounted theomancy, or prophecy; sometimes in the aspect of the starres at their nativity; which was called horoscopy, and esteemed a part of judiciary astrology: sometimes in their own hopes and feares, called thumomancy, or presage: sometimes in the prediction of witches, that pretended conference with the dead; which is called necromancy, conjuring, and witchcraft; and is but juggling and confederate knavery: sometimes in the casuall flight, or feeding of birds; called augury: sometimes in the entrayles of a sacrificed beast; which was aruspicina: sometimes in dreams: sometimes in croaking of ravens, or chattering of birds: sometimes in the lineaments of the face; which was called metoposcopy; or by palmistry in the lines of the hand; in casuall words, called omina: sometimes in monsters, or unusuall accidents; as ecclipses, comets, rare meteors, earthquakes, inundations, uncouth births, and the like, which they called portenta and ostenta, because they thought them to portend, or foreshew some great calamity to come; sometimes, in meer lottery, as crosse and pile; counting holes in a sive; dipping of verses in homer, and virgil; and innumerable other such vaine conceipts. so easie are men to be drawn to believe any thing, from such men as have gotten credit with them; and can with gentlenesse, and dexterity, take hold of their fear, and ignorance. the designes of the authors of the religion of the heathen and therefore the first founders, and legislators of common-wealths amongst the gentiles, whose ends were only to keep the people in obedience, and peace, have in all places taken care; first, to imprint in their minds a beliefe, that those precepts which they gave concerning religion, might not be thought to proceed from their own device, but from the dictates of some god, or other spirit; or else that they themselves were of a higher nature than mere mortalls, that their lawes might the more easily be received: so numa pompilius pretended to receive the ceremonies he instituted amongst the romans, from the nymph egeria: and the first king and founder of the kingdome of peru, pretended himselfe and his wife to be the children of the sunne: and mahomet, to set up his new religion, pretended to have conferences with the holy ghost, in forme of a dove. secondly, they have had a care, to make it believed, that the same things were displeasing to the gods, which were forbidden by the lawes. thirdly, to prescribe ceremonies, supplications, sacrifices, and festivalls, by which they were to believe, the anger of the gods might be appeased; and that ill success in war, great contagions of sicknesse, earthquakes, and each mans private misery, came from the anger of the gods; and their anger from the neglect of their worship, or the forgetting, or mistaking some point of the ceremonies required. and though amongst the antient romans, men were not forbidden to deny, that which in the poets is written of the paines, and pleasures after this life; which divers of great authority, and gravity in that state have in their harangues openly derided; yet that beliefe was alwaies more cherished, than the contrary. and by these, and such other institutions, they obtayned in order to their end, (which was the peace of the commonwealth,) that the common people in their misfortunes, laying the fault on neglect, or errour in their ceremonies, or on their own disobedience to the lawes, were the lesse apt to mutiny against their governors. and being entertained with the pomp, and pastime of festivalls, and publike gomes, made in honour of the gods, needed nothing else but bread, to keep them from discontent, murmuring, and commotion against the state. and therefore the romans, that had conquered the greatest part of the then known world, made no scruple of tollerating any religion whatsoever in the city of rome it selfe; unlesse it had somthing in it, that could not consist with their civill government; nor do we read, that any religion was there forbidden, but that of the jewes; who (being the peculiar kingdome of god) thought it unlawfull to acknowledge subjection to any mortall king or state whatsoever. and thus you see how the religion of the gentiles was a part of their policy. the true religion, and the lawes of gods kingdome the same but where god himselfe, by supernaturall revelation, planted religion; there he also made to himselfe a peculiar kingdome; and gave lawes, not only of behaviour towards himselfe; but also towards one another; and thereby in the kingdome of god, the policy, and lawes civill, are a part of religion; and therefore the distinction of temporall, and spirituall domination, hath there no place. it is true, that god is king of all the earth: yet may he be king of a peculiar, and chosen nation. for there is no more incongruity therein, than that he that hath the generall command of the whole army, should have withall a peculiar regiment, or company of his own. god is king of all the earth by his power: but of his chosen people, he is king by covenant. but to speake more largly of the kingdome of god, both by nature, and covenant, i have in the following discourse assigned an other place. the causes of change in religion from the propagation of religion, it is not hard to understand the causes of the resolution of the same into its first seeds, or principles; which are only an opinion of a deity, and powers invisible, and supernaturall; that can never be so abolished out of humane nature, but that new religions may againe be made to spring out of them, by the culture of such men, as for such purpose are in reputation. for seeing all formed religion, is founded at first, upon the faith which a multitude hath in some one person, whom they believe not only to be a wise man, and to labour to procure their happiness, but also to be a holy man, to whom god himselfe vouchsafeth to declare his will supernaturally; it followeth necessarily, when they that have the goverment of religion, shall come to have either the wisedome of those men, their sincerity, or their love suspected; or that they shall be unable to shew any probable token of divine revelation; that the religion which they desire to uphold, must be suspected likewise; and (without the feare of the civill sword) contradicted and rejected. injoyning beleefe of impossibilities that which taketh away the reputation of wisedome, in him that formeth a religion, or addeth to it when it is allready formed, is the enjoyning of a beliefe of contradictories: for both parts of a contradiction cannot possibly be true: and therefore to enjoyne the beliefe of them, is an argument of ignorance; which detects the author in that; and discredits him in all things else he shall propound as from revelation supernaturall: which revelation a man may indeed have of many things above, but of nothing against naturall reason. doing contrary to the religion they establish that which taketh away the reputation of sincerity, is the doing, or saying of such things, as appeare to be signes, that what they require other men to believe, is not believed by themselves; all which doings, or sayings are therefore called scandalous, because they be stumbling blocks, that make men to fall in the way of religion: as injustice, cruelty, prophanesse, avarice, and luxury. for who can believe, that he that doth ordinarily such actions, as proceed from any of these rootes, believeth there is any such invisible power to be feared, as he affrighteth other men withall, for lesser faults? that which taketh away the reputation of love, is the being detected of private ends: as when the beliefe they require of others, conduceth or seemeth to conduce to the acquiring of dominion, riches, dignity, or secure pleasure, to themselves onely, or specially. for that which men reap benefit by to themselves, they are thought to do for their own sakes, and not for love of others want of the testimony of miracles lastly, the testimony that men can render of divine calling, can be no other, than the operation of miracles; or true prophecy, (which also is a miracle;) or extraordinary felicity. and therefore, to those points of religion, which have been received from them that did such miracles; those that are added by such, as approve not their calling by some miracle, obtain no greater beliefe, than what the custome, and lawes of the places, in which they be educated, have wrought into them. for as in naturall things, men of judgement require naturall signes, and arguments; so in supernaturall things, they require signes supernaturall, (which are miracles,) before they consent inwardly, and from their hearts. all which causes of the weakening of mens faith, do manifestly appear in the examples following. first, we have the example of the children of israel; who when moses, that had approved his calling to them by miracles, and by the happy conduct of them out of egypt, was absent but dayes, revolted from the worship of the true god, recommended to them by him; and setting up (exod. , ) a golden calfe for their god, relapsed into the idolatry of the egyptians; from whom they had been so lately delivered. and again, after moses, aaron, joshua, and that generation which had seen the great works of god in israel, (judges ) were dead; another generation arose, and served baal. so that miracles fayling, faith also failed. again, when the sons of samuel, ( sam. . ) being constituted by their father judges in bersabee, received bribes, and judged unjustly, the people of israel refused any more to have god to be their king, in other manner than he was king of other people; and therefore cryed out to samuel, to choose them a king after the manner of the nations. so that justice fayling, faith also fayled: insomuch, as they deposed their god, from reigning over them. and whereas in the planting of christian religion, the oracles ceased in all parts of the roman empire, and the number of christians encreased wonderfully every day, and in every place, by the preaching of the apostles, and evangelists; a great part of that successe, may reasonably be attributed, to the contempt, into which the priests of the gentiles of that time, had brought themselves, by their uncleannesse, avarice, and jugling between princes. also the religion of the church of rome, was partly, for the same cause abolished in england, and many other parts of christendome; insomuch, as the fayling of vertue in the pastors, maketh faith faile in the people: and partly from bringing of the philosophy, and doctrine of aristotle into religion, by the schoole-men; from whence there arose so many contradictions, and absurdities, as brought the clergy into a reputation both of ignorance, and of fraudulent intention; and enclined people to revolt from them, either against the will of their own princes, as in france, and holland; or with their will, as in england. lastly, amongst the points by the church of rome declared necessary for salvation, there be so many, manifestly to the advantage of the pope, and of his spirituall subjects, residing in the territories of other christian princes, that were it not for the mutuall emulation of those princes, they might without warre, or trouble, exclude all forraign authority, as easily as it has been excluded in england. for who is there that does not see, to whose benefit it conduceth, to have it believed, that a king hath not his authority from christ, unlesse a bishop crown him? that a king, if he be a priest, cannot marry? that whether a prince be born in lawfull marriage, or not, must be judged by authority from rome? that subjects may be freed from their alleageance, if by the court of rome, the king be judged an heretique? that a king (as chilperique of france) may be deposed by a pope (as pope zachary,) for no cause; and his kingdome given to one of his subjects? that the clergy, and regulars, in what country soever, shall be exempt from the jurisdiction of their king, in cases criminall? or who does not see, to whose profit redound the fees of private masses, and vales of purgatory; with other signes of private interest, enough to mortifie the most lively faith, if (as i sayd) the civill magistrate, and custome did not more sustain it, than any opinion they have of the sanctity, wisdome, or probity of their teachers? so that i may attribute all the changes of religion in the world, to one and the some cause; and that is, unpleasing priests; and those not onely amongst catholiques, but even in that church that hath presumed most of reformation. chapter xiii. of the naturall condition of mankind, as concerning their felicity, and misery nature hath made men so equall, in the faculties of body, and mind; as that though there bee found one man sometimes manifestly stronger in body, or of quicker mind then another; yet when all is reckoned together, the difference between man, and man, is not so considerable, as that one man can thereupon claim to himselfe any benefit, to which another may not pretend, as well as he. for as to the strength of body, the weakest has strength enough to kill the strongest, either by secret machination, or by confederacy with others, that are in the same danger with himselfe. and as to the faculties of the mind, (setting aside the arts grounded upon words, and especially that skill of proceeding upon generall, and infallible rules, called science; which very few have, and but in few things; as being not a native faculty, born with us; nor attained, (as prudence,) while we look after somewhat els,) i find yet a greater equality amongst men, than that of strength. for prudence, is but experience; which equall time, equally bestowes on all men, in those things they equally apply themselves unto. that which may perhaps make such equality incredible, is but a vain conceipt of ones owne wisdome, which almost all men think they have in a greater degree, than the vulgar; that is, than all men but themselves, and a few others, whom by fame, or for concurring with themselves, they approve. for such is the nature of men, that howsoever they may acknowledge many others to be more witty, or more eloquent, or more learned; yet they will hardly believe there be many so wise as themselves: for they see their own wit at hand, and other mens at a distance. but this proveth rather that men are in that point equall, than unequall. for there is not ordinarily a greater signe of the equall distribution of any thing, than that every man is contented with his share. from equality proceeds diffidence from this equality of ability, ariseth equality of hope in the attaining of our ends. and therefore if any two men desire the same thing, which neverthelesse they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies; and in the way to their end, (which is principally their owne conservation, and sometimes their delectation only,) endeavour to destroy, or subdue one an other. and from hence it comes to passe, that where an invader hath no more to feare, than an other mans single power; if one plant, sow, build, or possesse a convenient seat, others may probably be expected to come prepared with forces united, to dispossesse, and deprive him, not only of the fruit of his labour, but also of his life, or liberty. and the invader again is in the like danger of another. from diffidence warre and from this diffidence of one another, there is no way for any man to secure himselfe, so reasonable, as anticipation; that is, by force, or wiles, to master the persons of all men he can, so long, till he see no other power great enough to endanger him: and this is no more than his own conservation requireth, and is generally allowed. also because there be some, that taking pleasure in contemplating their own power in the acts of conquest, which they pursue farther than their security requires; if others, that otherwise would be glad to be at ease within modest bounds, should not by invasion increase their power, they would not be able, long time, by standing only on their defence, to subsist. and by consequence, such augmentation of dominion over men, being necessary to a mans conservation, it ought to be allowed him. againe, men have no pleasure, (but on the contrary a great deale of griefe) in keeping company, where there is no power able to over-awe them all. for every man looketh that his companion should value him, at the same rate he sets upon himselfe: and upon all signes of contempt, or undervaluing, naturally endeavours, as far as he dares (which amongst them that have no common power, to keep them in quiet, is far enough to make them destroy each other,) to extort a greater value from his contemners, by dommage; and from others, by the example. so that in the nature of man, we find three principall causes of quarrel. first, competition; secondly, diffidence; thirdly, glory. the first, maketh men invade for gain; the second, for safety; and the third, for reputation. the first use violence, to make themselves masters of other mens persons, wives, children, and cattell; the second, to defend them; the third, for trifles, as a word, a smile, a different opinion, and any other signe of undervalue, either direct in their persons, or by reflexion in their kindred, their friends, their nation, their profession, or their name. out of civil states, there is alwayes warre of every one against every one hereby it is manifest, that during the time men live without a common power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called warre; and such a warre, as is of every man, against every man. for warre, consisteth not in battell onely, or the act of fighting; but in a tract of time, wherein the will to contend by battell is sufficiently known: and therefore the notion of time, is to be considered in the nature of warre; as it is in the nature of weather. for as the nature of foule weather, lyeth not in a showre or two of rain; but in an inclination thereto of many dayes together: so the nature of war, consisteth not in actuall fighting; but in the known disposition thereto, during all the time there is no assurance to the contrary. all other time is peace. the incommodites of such a war whatsoever therefore is consequent to a time of warre, where every man is enemy to every man; the same is consequent to the time, wherein men live without other security, than what their own strength, and their own invention shall furnish them withall. in such condition, there is no place for industry; because the fruit thereof is uncertain; and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious building; no instruments of moving, and removing such things as require much force; no knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time; no arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continuall feare, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short. it may seem strange to some man, that has not well weighed these things; that nature should thus dissociate, and render men apt to invade, and destroy one another: and he may therefore, not trusting to this inference, made from the passions, desire perhaps to have the same confirmed by experience. let him therefore consider with himselfe, when taking a journey, he armes himselfe, and seeks to go well accompanied; when going to sleep, he locks his dores; when even in his house he locks his chests; and this when he knows there bee lawes, and publike officers, armed, to revenge all injuries shall bee done him; what opinion he has of his fellow subjects, when he rides armed; of his fellow citizens, when he locks his dores; and of his children, and servants, when he locks his chests. does he not there as much accuse mankind by his actions, as i do by my words? but neither of us accuse mans nature in it. the desires, and other passions of man, are in themselves no sin. no more are the actions, that proceed from those passions, till they know a law that forbids them; which till lawes be made they cannot know: nor can any law be made, till they have agreed upon the person that shall make it. it may peradventure be thought, there was never such a time, nor condition of warre as this; and i believe it was never generally so, over all the world: but there are many places, where they live so now. for the savage people in many places of america, except the government of small families, the concord whereof dependeth on naturall lust, have no government at all; and live at this day in that brutish manner, as i said before. howsoever, it may be perceived what manner of life there would be, where there were no common power to feare; by the manner of life, which men that have formerly lived under a peacefull government, use to degenerate into, in a civill warre. but though there had never been any time, wherein particular men were in a condition of warre one against another; yet in all times, kings, and persons of soveraigne authority, because of their independency, are in continuall jealousies, and in the state and posture of gladiators; having their weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on one another; that is, their forts, garrisons, and guns upon the frontiers of their kingdomes; and continuall spyes upon their neighbours; which is a posture of war. but because they uphold thereby, the industry of their subjects; there does not follow from it, that misery, which accompanies the liberty of particular men. in such a warre, nothing is unjust to this warre of every man against every man, this also is consequent; that nothing can be unjust. the notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice have there no place. where there is no common power, there is no law: where no law, no injustice. force, and fraud, are in warre the two cardinall vertues. justice, and injustice are none of the faculties neither of the body, nor mind. if they were, they might be in a man that were alone in the world, as well as his senses, and passions. they are qualities, that relate to men in society, not in solitude. it is consequent also to the same condition, that there be no propriety, no dominion, no mine and thine distinct; but onely that to be every mans that he can get; and for so long, as he can keep it. and thus much for the ill condition, which man by meer nature is actually placed in; though with a possibility to come out of it, consisting partly in the passions, partly in his reason. the passions that incline men to peace the passions that encline men to peace, are feare of death; desire of such things as are necessary to commodious living; and a hope by their industry to obtain them. and reason suggesteth convenient articles of peace, upon which men may be drawn to agreement. these articles, are they, which otherwise are called the lawes of nature: whereof i shall speak more particularly, in the two following chapters. chapter xiv. of the first and second naturall lawes, and of contracts right of nature what the right of nature, which writers commonly call jus naturale, is the liberty each man hath, to use his own power, as he will himselfe, for the preservation of his own nature; that is to say, of his own life; and consequently, of doing any thing, which in his own judgement, and reason, hee shall conceive to be the aptest means thereunto. liberty what by liberty, is understood, according to the proper signification of the word, the absence of externall impediments: which impediments, may oft take away part of a mans power to do what hee would; but cannot hinder him from using the power left him, according as his judgement, and reason shall dictate to him. a law of nature what a law of nature, (lex naturalis,) is a precept, or generall rule, found out by reason, by which a man is forbidden to do, that, which is destructive of his life, or taketh away the means of preserving the same; and to omit, that, by which he thinketh it may be best preserved. for though they that speak of this subject, use to confound jus, and lex, right and law; yet they ought to be distinguished; because right, consisteth in liberty to do, or to forbeare; whereas law, determineth, and bindeth to one of them: so that law, and right, differ as much, as obligation, and liberty; which in one and the same matter are inconsistent. naturally every man has right to everything and because the condition of man, (as hath been declared in the precedent chapter) is a condition of warre of every one against every one; in which case every one is governed by his own reason; and there is nothing he can make use of, that may not be a help unto him, in preserving his life against his enemyes; it followeth, that in such a condition, every man has a right to every thing; even to one anothers body. and therefore, as long as this naturall right of every man to every thing endureth, there can be no security to any man, (how strong or wise soever he be,) of living out the time, which nature ordinarily alloweth men to live. the fundamental law of nature and consequently it is a precept, or generall rule of reason, "that every man, ought to endeavour peace, as farre as he has hope of obtaining it; and when he cannot obtain it, that he may seek, and use, all helps, and advantages of warre." the first branch, of which rule, containeth the first, and fundamentall law of nature; which is, "to seek peace, and follow it." the second, the summe of the right of nature; which is, "by all means we can, to defend our selves." the second law of nature from this fundamentall law of nature, by which men are commanded to endeavour peace, is derived this second law; "that a man be willing, when others are so too, as farre-forth, as for peace, and defence of himselfe he shall think it necessary, to lay down this right to all things; and be contented with so much liberty against other men, as he would allow other men against himselfe." for as long as every man holdeth this right, of doing any thing he liketh; so long are all men in the condition of warre. but if other men will not lay down their right, as well as he; then there is no reason for any one, to devest himselfe of his: for that were to expose himselfe to prey, (which no man is bound to) rather than to dispose himselfe to peace. this is that law of the gospell; "whatsoever you require that others should do to you, that do ye to them." and that law of all men, "quod tibi feiri non vis, alteri ne feceris." what it is to lay down a right to lay downe a mans right to any thing, is to devest himselfe of the liberty, of hindring another of the benefit of his own right to the same. for he that renounceth, or passeth away his right, giveth not to any other man a right which he had not before; because there is nothing to which every man had not right by nature: but onely standeth out of his way, that he may enjoy his own originall right, without hindrance from him; not without hindrance from another. so that the effect which redoundeth to one man, by another mans defect of right, is but so much diminution of impediments to the use of his own right originall. renouncing (or) transferring right what; obligation duty justice right is layd aside, either by simply renouncing it; or by transferring it to another. by simply renouncing; when he cares not to whom the benefit thereof redoundeth. by transferring; when he intendeth the benefit thereof to some certain person, or persons. and when a man hath in either manner abandoned, or granted away his right; then is he said to be obliged, or bound, not to hinder those, to whom such right is granted, or abandoned, from the benefit of it: and that he ought, and it his duty, not to make voyd that voluntary act of his own: and that such hindrance is injustice, and injury, as being sine jure; the right being before renounced, or transferred. so that injury, or injustice, in the controversies of the world, is somewhat like to that, which in the disputations of scholers is called absurdity. for as it is there called an absurdity, to contradict what one maintained in the beginning: so in the world, it is called injustice, and injury, voluntarily to undo that, which from the beginning he had voluntarily done. the way by which a man either simply renounceth, or transferreth his right, is a declaration, or signification, by some voluntary and sufficient signe, or signes, that he doth so renounce, or transferre; or hath so renounced, or transferred the same, to him that accepteth it. and these signes are either words onely, or actions onely; or (as it happeneth most often) both words and actions. and the same are the bonds, by which men are bound, and obliged: bonds, that have their strength, not from their own nature, (for nothing is more easily broken then a mans word,) but from feare of some evill consequence upon the rupture. not all rights are alienable whensoever a man transferreth his right, or renounceth it; it is either in consideration of some right reciprocally transferred to himselfe; or for some other good he hopeth for thereby. for it is a voluntary act: and of the voluntary acts of every man, the object is some good to himselfe. and therefore there be some rights, which no man can be understood by any words, or other signes, to have abandoned, or transferred. as first a man cannot lay down the right of resisting them, that assault him by force, to take away his life; because he cannot be understood to ayme thereby, at any good to himselfe. the same may be sayd of wounds, and chayns, and imprisonment; both because there is no benefit consequent to such patience; as there is to the patience of suffering another to be wounded, or imprisoned: as also because a man cannot tell, when he seeth men proceed against him by violence, whether they intend his death or not. and lastly the motive, and end for which this renouncing, and transferring or right is introduced, is nothing else but the security of a mans person, in his life, and in the means of so preserving life, as not to be weary of it. and therefore if a man by words, or other signes, seem to despoyle himselfe of the end, for which those signes were intended; he is not to be understood as if he meant it, or that it was his will; but that he was ignorant of how such words and actions were to be interpreted. contract what the mutuall transferring of right, is that which men call contract. there is difference, between transferring of right to the thing; and transferring, or tradition, that is, delivery of the thing it selfe. for the thing may be delivered together with the translation of the right; as in buying and selling with ready mony; or exchange of goods, or lands: and it may be delivered some time after. covenant what again, one of the contractors, may deliver the thing contracted for on his part, and leave the other to perform his part at some determinate time after, and in the mean time be trusted; and then the contract on his part, is called pact, or covenant: or both parts may contract now, to performe hereafter: in which cases, he that is to performe in time to come, being trusted, his performance is called keeping of promise, or faith; and the fayling of performance (if it be voluntary) violation of faith. free-gift when the transferring of right, is not mutuall; but one of the parties transferreth, in hope to gain thereby friendship, or service from another, or from his friends; or in hope to gain the reputation of charity, or magnanimity; or to deliver his mind from the pain of compassion; or in hope of reward in heaven; this is not contract, but gift, freegift, grace: which words signifie one and the same thing. signes of contract expresse signes of contract, are either expresse, or by inference. expresse, are words spoken with understanding of what they signifie; and such words are either of the time present, or past; as, i give, i grant, i have given, i have granted, i will that this be yours: or of the future; as, i will give, i will grant; which words of the future, are called promise. signes of contract by inference signes by inference, are sometimes the consequence of words; sometimes the consequence of silence; sometimes the consequence of actions; sometimes the consequence of forbearing an action: and generally a signe by inference, of any contract, is whatsoever sufficiently argues the will of the contractor. free gift passeth by words of the present or past words alone, if they be of the time to come, and contain a bare promise, are an insufficient signe of a free-gift and therefore not obligatory. for if they be of the time to come, as, to morrow i will give, they are a signe i have not given yet, and consequently that my right is not transferred, but remaineth till i transferre it by some other act. but if the words be of the time present, or past, as, "i have given, or do give to be delivered to morrow," then is my to morrows right given away to day; and that by the vertue of the words, though there were no other argument of my will. and there is a great difference in the signification of these words, volos hoc tuum esse cras, and cros dabo; that is between "i will that this be thine to morrow," and, "i will give it to thee to morrow:" for the word i will, in the former manner of speech, signifies an act of the will present; but in the later, it signifies a promise of an act of the will to come: and therefore the former words, being of the present, transferre a future right; the later, that be of the future, transferre nothing. but if there be other signes of the will to transferre a right, besides words; then, though the gift be free, yet may the right be understood to passe by words of the future: as if a man propound a prize to him that comes first to the end of a race, the gift is free; and though the words be of the future, yet the right passeth: for if he would not have his words so be understood, he should not have let them runne. signes of contract are words both of the past, present, and future in contracts, the right passeth, not onely where the words are of the time present, or past; but also where they are of the future; because all contract is mutuall translation, or change of right; and therefore he that promiseth onely, because he hath already received the benefit for which he promiseth, is to be understood as if he intended the right should passe: for unlesse he had been content to have his words so understood, the other would not have performed his part first. and for that cause, in buying, and selling, and other acts of contract, a promise is equivalent to a covenant; and therefore obligatory. merit what he that performeth first in the case of a contract, is said to merit that which he is to receive by the performance of the other; and he hath it as due. also when a prize is propounded to many, which is to be given to him onely that winneth; or mony is thrown amongst many, to be enjoyed by them that catch it; though this be a free gift; yet so to win, or so to catch, is to merit, and to have it as due. for the right is transferred in the propounding of the prize, and in throwing down the mony; though it be not determined to whom, but by the event of the contention. but there is between these two sorts of merit, this difference, that in contract, i merit by vertue of my own power, and the contractors need; but in this case of free gift, i am enabled to merit onely by the benignity of the giver; in contract, i merit at the contractors hand that hee should depart with his right; in this case of gift, i merit not that the giver should part with his right; but that when he has parted with it, it should be mine, rather than anothers. and this i think to be the meaning of that distinction of the schooles, between meritum congrui, and meritum condigni. for god almighty, having promised paradise to those men (hoodwinkt with carnall desires,) that can walk through this world according to the precepts, and limits prescribed by him; they say, he that shall so walk, shall merit paradise ex congruo. but because no man can demand a right to it, by his own righteousnesse, or any other power in himselfe, but by the free grace of god onely; they say, no man can merit paradise ex condigno. this i say, i think is the meaning of that distinction; but because disputers do not agree upon the signification of their own termes of art, longer than it serves their turn; i will not affirme any thing of their meaning: onely this i say; when a gift is given indefinitely, as a prize to be contended for, he that winneth meriteth, and may claime the prize as due. covenants of mutuall trust, when invalid if a covenant be made, wherein neither of the parties performe presently, but trust one another; in the condition of meer nature, (which is a condition of warre of every man against every man,) upon any reasonable suspition, it is voyd; but if there be a common power set over them bothe, with right and force sufficient to compell performance; it is not voyd. for he that performeth first, has no assurance the other will performe after; because the bonds of words are too weak to bridle mens ambition, avarice, anger, and other passions, without the feare of some coerceive power; which in the condition of meer nature, where all men are equall, and judges of the justnesse of their own fears cannot possibly be supposed. and therefore he which performeth first, does but betray himselfe to his enemy; contrary to the right (he can never abandon) of defending his life, and means of living. but in a civill estate, where there is a power set up to constrain those that would otherwise violate their faith, that feare is no more reasonable; and for that cause, he which by the covenant is to perform first, is obliged so to do. the cause of feare, which maketh such a covenant invalid, must be alwayes something arising after the covenant made; as some new fact, or other signe of the will not to performe; else it cannot make the covenant voyd. for that which could not hinder a man from promising, ought not to be admitted as a hindrance of performing. right to the end, containeth right to the means he that transferreth any right, transferreth the means of enjoying it, as farre as lyeth in his power. as he that selleth land, is understood to transferre the herbage, and whatsoever growes upon it; nor can he that sells a mill turn away the stream that drives it. and they that give to a man the right of government in soveraignty, are understood to give him the right of levying mony to maintain souldiers; and of appointing magistrates for the administration of justice. no covenant with beasts to make covenant with bruit beasts, is impossible; because not understanding our speech, they understand not, nor accept of any translation of right; nor can translate any right to another; and without mutuall acceptation, there is no covenant. nor with god without speciall revelation to make covenant with god, is impossible, but by mediation of such as god speaketh to, either by revelation supernaturall, or by his lieutenants that govern under him, and in his name; for otherwise we know not whether our covenants be accepted, or not. and therefore they that vow any thing contrary to any law of nature, vow in vain; as being a thing unjust to pay such vow. and if it be a thing commanded by the law of nature, it is not the vow, but the law that binds them. no covenant, but of possible and future the matter, or subject of a covenant, is alwayes something that falleth under deliberation; (for to covenant, is an act of the will; that is to say an act, and the last act, of deliberation;) and is therefore alwayes understood to be something to come; and which is judged possible for him that covenanteth, to performe. and therefore, to promise that which is known to be impossible, is no covenant. but if that prove impossible afterwards, which before was thought possible, the covenant is valid, and bindeth, (though not to the thing it selfe,) yet to the value; or, if that also be impossible, to the unfeigned endeavour of performing as much as is possible; for to more no man can be obliged. covenants how made voyd men are freed of their covenants two wayes; by performing; or by being forgiven. for performance, is the naturall end of obligation; and forgivenesse, the restitution of liberty; as being a retransferring of that right, in which the obligation consisted. covenants extorted by feare are valide covenants entred into by fear, in the condition of meer nature, are obligatory. for example, if i covenant to pay a ransome, or service for my life, to an enemy; i am bound by it. for it is a contract, wherein one receiveth the benefit of life; the other is to receive mony, or service for it; and consequently, where no other law (as in the condition, of meer nature) forbiddeth the performance, the covenant is valid. therefore prisoners of warre, if trusted with the payment of their ransome, are obliged to pay it; and if a weaker prince, make a disadvantageous peace with a stronger, for feare; he is bound to keep it; unlesse (as hath been sayd before) there ariseth some new, and just cause of feare, to renew the war. and even in common-wealths, if i be forced to redeem my selfe from a theefe by promising him mony, i am bound to pay it, till the civill law discharge me. for whatsoever i may lawfully do without obligation, the same i may lawfully covenant to do through feare: and what i lawfully covenant, i cannot lawfully break. the former covenant to one, makes voyd the later to another a former covenant, makes voyd a later. for a man that hath passed away his right to one man to day, hath it not to passe to morrow to another: and therefore the later promise passeth no right, but is null. a mans covenant not to defend himselfe, is voyd a covenant not to defend my selfe from force, by force, is alwayes voyd. for (as i have shewed before) no man can transferre, or lay down his right to save himselfe from death, wounds, and imprisonment, (the avoyding whereof is the onely end of laying down any right,) and therefore the promise of not resisting force, in no covenant transferreth any right; nor is obliging. for though a man may covenant thus, "unlesse i do so, or so, kill me;" he cannot covenant thus "unless i do so, or so, i will not resist you, when you come to kill me." for man by nature chooseth the lesser evill, which is danger of death in resisting; rather than the greater, which is certain and present death in not resisting. and this is granted to be true by all men, in that they lead criminals to execution, and prison, with armed men, notwithstanding that such criminals have consented to the law, by which they are condemned. no man obliged to accuse himselfe a covenant to accuse ones selfe, without assurance of pardon, is likewise invalide. for in the condition of nature, where every man is judge, there is no place for accusation: and in the civill state, the accusation is followed with punishment; which being force, a man is not obliged not to resist. the same is also true, of the accusation of those, by whose condemnation a man falls into misery; as of a father, wife, or benefactor. for the testimony of such an accuser, if it be not willingly given, is praesumed to be corrupted by nature; and therefore not to be received: and where a mans testimony is not to be credited, his not bound to give it. also accusations upon torture, are not to be reputed as testimonies. for torture is to be used but as means of conjecture, and light, in the further examination, and search of truth; and what is in that case confessed, tendeth to the ease of him that is tortured; not to the informing of the torturers: and therefore ought not to have the credit of a sufficient testimony: for whether he deliver himselfe by true, or false accusation, he does it by the right of preserving his own life. the end of an oath; the forme of as oath the force of words, being (as i have formerly noted) too weak to hold men to the performance of their covenants; there are in mans nature, but two imaginable helps to strengthen it. and those are either a feare of the consequence of breaking their word; or a glory, or pride in appearing not to need to breake it. this later is a generosity too rarely found to be presumed on, especially in the pursuers of wealth, command, or sensuall pleasure; which are the greatest part of mankind. the passion to be reckoned upon, is fear; whereof there be two very generall objects: one, the power of spirits invisible; the other, the power of those men they shall therein offend. of these two, though the former be the greater power, yet the feare of the later is commonly the greater feare. the feare of the former is in every man, his own religion: which hath place in the nature of man before civill society. the later hath not so; at least not place enough, to keep men to their promises; because in the condition of meer nature, the inequality of power is not discerned, but by the event of battell. so that before the time of civill society, or in the interruption thereof by warre, there is nothing can strengthen a covenant of peace agreed on, against the temptations of avarice, ambition, lust, or other strong desire, but the feare of that invisible power, which they every one worship as god; and feare as a revenger of their perfidy. all therefore that can be done between two men not subject to civill power, is to put one another to swear by the god he feareth: which swearing or oath, is a forme of speech, added to a promise; by which he that promiseth, signifieth, that unlesse he performe, he renounceth the mercy of his god, or calleth to him for vengeance on himselfe. such was the heathen forme, "let jupiter kill me else, as i kill this beast." so is our forme, "i shall do thus, and thus, so help me god." and this, with the rites and ceremonies, which every one useth in his own religion, that the feare of breaking faith might be the greater. no oath, but by god by this it appears, that an oath taken according to any other forme, or rite, then his, that sweareth, is in vain; and no oath: and there is no swearing by any thing which the swearer thinks not god. for though men have sometimes used to swear by their kings, for feare, or flattery; yet they would have it thereby understood, they attributed to them divine honour. and that swearing unnecessarily by god, is but prophaning of his name: and swearing by other things, as men do in common discourse, is not swearing, but an impious custome, gotten by too much vehemence of talking. an oath addes nothing to the obligation it appears also, that the oath addes nothing to the obligation. for a covenant, if lawfull, binds in the sight of god, without the oath, as much as with it; if unlawfull, bindeth not at all; though it be confirmed with an oath. chapter xv. of other lawes of nature the third law of nature, justice from that law of nature, by which we are obliged to transferre to another, such rights, as being retained, hinder the peace of mankind, there followeth a third; which is this, that men performe their covenants made: without which, covenants are in vain, and but empty words; and the right of all men to all things remaining, wee are still in the condition of warre. justice and injustice what and in this law of nature, consisteth the fountain and originall of justice. for where no covenant hath preceded, there hath no right been transferred, and every man has right to every thing; and consequently, no action can be unjust. but when a covenant is made, then to break it is unjust: and the definition of injustice, is no other than the not performance of covenant. and whatsoever is not unjust, is just. justice and propriety begin with the constitution of common-wealth but because covenants of mutuall trust, where there is a feare of not performance on either part, (as hath been said in the former chapter,) are invalid; though the originall of justice be the making of covenants; yet injustice actually there can be none, till the cause of such feare be taken away; which while men are in the naturall condition of warre, cannot be done. therefore before the names of just, and unjust can have place, there must be some coercive power, to compell men equally to the performance of their covenants, by the terrour of some punishment, greater than the benefit they expect by the breach of their covenant; and to make good that propriety, which by mutuall contract men acquire, in recompence of the universall right they abandon: and such power there is none before the erection of a common-wealth. and this is also to be gathered out of the ordinary definition of justice in the schooles: for they say, that "justice is the constant will of giving to every man his own." and therefore where there is no own, that is, no propriety, there is no injustice; and where there is no coerceive power erected, that is, where there is no common-wealth, there is no propriety; all men having right to all things: therefore where there is no common-wealth, there nothing is unjust. so that the nature of justice, consisteth in keeping of valid covenants: but the validity of covenants begins not but with the constitution of a civill power, sufficient to compell men to keep them: and then it is also that propriety begins. justice not contrary to reason the foole hath sayd in his heart, there is no such thing as justice; and sometimes also with his tongue; seriously alleaging, that every mans conservation, and contentment, being committed to his own care, there could be no reason, why every man might not do what he thought conduced thereunto; and therefore also to make, or not make; keep, or not keep covenants, was not against reason, when it conduced to ones benefit. he does not therein deny, that there be covenants; and that they are sometimes broken, sometimes kept; and that such breach of them may be called injustice, and the observance of them justice: but he questioneth, whether injustice, taking away the feare of god, (for the same foole hath said in his heart there is no god,) may not sometimes stand with that reason, which dictateth to every man his own good; and particularly then, when it conduceth to such a benefit, as shall put a man in a condition, to neglect not onely the dispraise, and revilings, but also the power of other men. the kingdome of god is gotten by violence; but what if it could be gotten by unjust violence? were it against reason so to get it, when it is impossible to receive hurt by it? and if it be not against reason, it is not against justice; or else justice is not to be approved for good. from such reasoning as this, succesfull wickednesse hath obtained the name of vertue; and some that in all other things have disallowed the violation of faith; yet have allowed it, when it is for the getting of a kingdome. and the heathen that believed, that saturn was deposed by his son jupiter, believed neverthelesse the same jupiter to be the avenger of injustice: somewhat like to a piece of law in cokes commentaries on litleton; where he sayes, if the right heire of the crown be attainted of treason; yet the crown shall descend to him, and eo instante the atteynder be voyd; from which instances a man will be very prone to inferre; that when the heire apparent of a kingdome, shall kill him that is in possession, though his father; you may call it injustice, or by what other name you will; yet it can never be against reason, seeing all the voluntary actions of men tend to the benefit of themselves; and those actions are most reasonable, that conduce most to their ends. this specious reasoning is nevertheless false. for the question is not of promises mutuall, where there is no security of performance on either side; as when there is no civill power erected over the parties promising; for such promises are no covenants: but either where one of the parties has performed already; or where there is a power to make him performe; there is the question whether it be against reason, that is, against the benefit of the other to performe, or not. and i say it is not against reason. for the manifestation whereof, we are to consider; first, that when a man doth a thing, which notwithstanding any thing can be foreseen, and reckoned on, tendeth to his own destruction, howsoever some accident which he could not expect, arriving may turne it to his benefit; yet such events do not make it reasonably or wisely done. secondly, that in a condition of warre, wherein every man to every man, for want of a common power to keep them all in awe, is an enemy, there is no man can hope by his own strength, or wit, to defend himselfe from destruction, without the help of confederates; where every one expects the same defence by the confederation, that any one else does: and therefore he which declares he thinks it reason to deceive those that help him, can in reason expect no other means of safety, than what can be had from his own single power. he therefore that breaketh his covenant, and consequently declareth that he thinks he may with reason do so, cannot be received into any society, that unite themselves for peace and defence, but by the errour of them that receive him; nor when he is received, be retayned in it, without seeing the danger of their errour; which errours a man cannot reasonably reckon upon as the means of his security; and therefore if he be left, or cast out of society, he perisheth; and if he live in society, it is by the errours of other men, which he could not foresee, nor reckon upon; and consequently against the reason of his preservation; and so, as all men that contribute not to his destruction, forbear him onely out of ignorance of what is good for themselves. as for the instance of gaining the secure and perpetuall felicity of heaven, by any way; it is frivolous: there being but one way imaginable; and that is not breaking, but keeping of covenant. and for the other instance of attaining soveraignty by rebellion; it is manifest, that though the event follow, yet because it cannot reasonably be expected, but rather the contrary; and because by gaining it so, others are taught to gain the same in like manner, the attempt thereof is against reason. justice therefore, that is to say, keeping of covenant, is a rule of reason, by which we are forbidden to do any thing destructive to our life; and consequently a law of nature. there be some that proceed further; and will not have the law of nature, to be those rules which conduce to the preservation of mans life on earth; but to the attaining of an eternall felicity after death; to which they think the breach of covenant may conduce; and consequently be just and reasonable; (such are they that think it a work of merit to kill, or depose, or rebell against, the soveraigne power constituted over them by their own consent.) but because there is no naturall knowledge of mans estate after death; much lesse of the reward that is then to be given to breach of faith; but onely a beliefe grounded upon other mens saying, that they know it supernaturally, or that they know those, that knew them, that knew others, that knew it supernaturally; breach of faith cannot be called a precept of reason, or nature. covenants not discharged by the vice of the person to whom made others, that allow for a law of nature, the keeping of faith, do neverthelesse make exception of certain persons; as heretiques, and such as use not to performe their covenant to others: and this also is against reason. for if any fault of a man, be sufficient to discharge our covenant made; the same ought in reason to have been sufficient to have hindred the making of it. justice of men, and justice of actions what the names of just, and unjust, when they are attributed to men, signifie one thing; and when they are attributed to actions, another. when they are attributed to men, they signifie conformity, or inconformity of manners, to reason. but when they are attributed to actions, they signifie the conformity, or inconformity to reason, not of manners, or manner of life, but of particular actions. a just man therefore, is he that taketh all the care he can, that his actions may be all just: and an unjust man, is he that neglecteth it. and such men are more often in our language stiled by the names of righteous, and unrighteous; then just, and unjust; though the meaning be the same. therefore a righteous man, does not lose that title, by one, or a few unjust actions, that proceed from sudden passion, or mistake of things, or persons: nor does an unrighteous man, lose his character, for such actions, as he does, of forbeares to do, for feare: because his will is not framed by the justice, but by the apparant benefit of what he is to do. that which gives to humane actions the relish of justice, is a certain noblenesse or gallantnesse of courage, (rarely found,) by which a man scorns to be beholding for the contentment of his life, to fraud, or breach of promise. this justice of the manners, is that which is meant, where justice is called a vertue; and injustice a vice. but the justice of actions denominates men, not just, but guiltlesse; and the injustice of the same, (which is also called injury,) gives them but the name of guilty. justice of manners, and justice of actions again, the injustice of manners, is the disposition, or aptitude to do injurie; and is injustice before it proceed to act; and without supposing any individuall person injured. but the injustice of an action, (that is to say injury,) supposeth an individuall person injured; namely him, to whom the covenant was made: and therefore many times the injury is received by one man, when the dammage redoundeth to another. as when the master commandeth his servant to give mony to a stranger; if it be not done, the injury is done to the master, whom he had before covenanted to obey; but the dammage redoundeth to the stranger, to whom he had no obligation; and therefore could not injure him. and so also in common-wealths, private men may remit to one another their debts; but not robberies or other violences, whereby they are endammaged; because the detaining of debt, is an injury to themselves; but robbery and violence, are injuries to the person of the common-wealth. nothing done to a man, by his own consent can be injury whatsoever is done to a man, conformable to his own will signified to the doer, is no injury to him. for if he that doeth it, hath not passed away his originall right to do what he please, by some antecedent covenant, there is no breach of covenant; and therefore no injury done him. and if he have; then his will to have it done being signified, is a release of that covenant; and so again there is no injury done him. justice commutative, and distributive justice of actions, is by writers divided into commutative, and distributive; and the former they say consisteth in proportion arithmeticall; the later in proportion geometricall. commutative therefore, they place in the equality of value of the things contracted for; and distributive, in the distribution of equall benefit, to men of equall merit. as if it were injustice to sell dearer than we buy; or to give more to a man than he merits. the value of all things contracted for, is measured by the appetite of the contractors: and therefore the just value, is that which they be contented to give. and merit (besides that which is by covenant, where the performance on one part, meriteth the performance of the other part, and falls under justice commutative, not distributive,) is not due by justice; but is rewarded of grace onely. and therefore this distinction, in the sense wherein it useth to be expounded, is not right. to speak properly, commutative justice, is the justice of a contractor; that is, a performance of covenant, in buying, and selling; hiring, and letting to hire; lending, and borrowing; exchanging, bartering, and other acts of contract. and distributive justice, the justice of an arbitrator; that is to say, the act of defining what is just. wherein, (being trusted by them that make him arbitrator,) if he performe his trust, he is said to distribute to every man his own: and his is indeed just distribution, and may be called (though improperly) distributive justice; but more properly equity; which also is a law of nature, as shall be shewn in due place. the fourth law of nature, gratitude as justice dependeth on antecedent covenant; so does gratitude depend on antecedent grace; that is to say, antecedent free-gift: and is the fourth law of nature; which may be conceived in this forme, "that a man which receiveth benefit from another of meer grace, endeavour that he which giveth it, have no reasonable cause to repent him of his good will." for no man giveth, but with intention of good to himselfe; because gift is voluntary; and of all voluntary acts, the object is to every man his own good; of which if men see they shall be frustrated, there will be no beginning of benevolence, or trust; nor consequently of mutuall help; nor of reconciliation of one man to another; and therefore they are to remain still in the condition of war; which is contrary to the first and fundamentall law of nature, which commandeth men to seek peace. the breach of this law, is called ingratitude; and hath the same relation to grace, that injustice hath to obligation by covenant. the fifth, mutuall accommodation, or compleasance a fifth law of nature, is compleasance; that is to say, "that every man strive to accommodate himselfe to the rest." for the understanding whereof, we may consider, that there is in mens aptnesse to society; a diversity of nature, rising from their diversity of affections; not unlike to that we see in stones brought together for building of an aedifice. for as that stone which by the asperity, and irregularity of figure, takes more room from others, than it selfe fills; and for the hardnesse, cannot be easily made plain, and thereby hindereth the building, is by the builders cast away as unprofitable, and troublesome: so also, a man that by asperity of nature, will strive to retain those things which to himselfe are superfluous, and to others necessary; and for the stubbornness of his passions, cannot be corrected, is to be left, or cast out of society, as combersome thereunto. for seeing every man, not onely by right, but also by necessity of nature, is supposed to endeavour all he can, to obtain that which is necessary for his conservation; he that shall oppose himselfe against it, for things superfluous, is guilty of the warre that thereupon is to follow; and therefore doth that, which is contrary to the fundamentall law of nature, which commandeth to seek peace. the observers of this law, may be called sociable, (the latines call them commodi;) the contrary, stubborn, insociable, froward, intractable. the sixth, facility to pardon a sixth law of nature is this, "that upon caution of the future time, a man ought to pardon the offences past of them that repenting, desire it." for pardon, is nothing but granting of peace; which though granted to them that persevere in their hostility, be not peace, but feare; yet not granted to them that give caution of the future time, is signe of an aversion to peace; and therefore contrary to the law of nature. the seventh, that in revenges, men respect onely the future good a seventh is, " that in revenges, (that is, retribution of evil for evil,) men look not at the greatnesse of the evill past, but the greatnesse of the good to follow." whereby we are forbidden to inflict punishment with any other designe, than for correction of the offender, or direction of others. for this law is consequent to the next before it, that commandeth pardon, upon security of the future time. besides, revenge without respect to the example, and profit to come, is a triumph, or glorying in the hurt of another, tending to no end; (for the end is alwayes somewhat to come;) and glorying to no end, is vain-glory, and contrary to reason; and to hurt without reason, tendeth to the introduction of warre; which is against the law of nature; and is commonly stiled by the name of cruelty. the eighth, against contumely and because all signes of hatred, or contempt, provoke to fight; insomuch as most men choose rather to hazard their life, than not to be revenged; we may in the eighth place, for a law of nature set down this precept, "that no man by deed, word, countenance, or gesture, declare hatred, or contempt of another." the breach of which law, is commonly called contumely. the ninth, against pride the question who is the better man, has no place in the condition of meer nature; where, (as has been shewn before,) all men are equall. the inequallity that now is, has been introduced by the lawes civill. i know that aristotle in the first booke of his politiques, for a foundation of his doctrine, maketh men by nature, some more worthy to command, meaning the wiser sort (such as he thought himselfe to be for his philosophy;) others to serve, (meaning those that had strong bodies, but were not philosophers as he;) as if master and servant were not introduced by consent of men, but by difference of wit; which is not only against reason; but also against experience. for there are very few so foolish, that had not rather governe themselves, than be governed by others: nor when the wise in their own conceit, contend by force, with them who distrust their owne wisdome, do they alwaies, or often, or almost at any time, get the victory. if nature therefore have made men equall, that equalitie is to be acknowledged; or if nature have made men unequall; yet because men that think themselves equall, will not enter into conditions of peace, but upon equall termes, such equalitie must be admitted. and therefore for the ninth law of nature, i put this, "that every man acknowledge other for his equall by nature." the breach of this precept is pride. the tenth against arrogance on this law, dependeth another, "that at the entrance into conditions of peace, no man require to reserve to himselfe any right, which he is not content should be reserved to every one of the rest." as it is necessary for all men that seek peace, to lay down certaine rights of nature; that is to say, not to have libertie to do all they list: so is it necessarie for mans life, to retaine some; as right to governe their owne bodies; enjoy aire, water, motion, waies to go from place to place; and all things else without which a man cannot live, or not live well. if in this case, at the making of peace, men require for themselves, that which they would not have to be granted to others, they do contrary to the precedent law, that commandeth the acknowledgement of naturall equalitie, and therefore also against the law of nature. the observers of this law, are those we call modest, and the breakers arrogant men. the greeks call the violation of this law pleonexia; that is, a desire of more than their share. the eleventh equity also "if a man be trusted to judge between man and man," it is a precept of the law of nature, "that he deale equally between them." for without that, the controversies of men cannot be determined but by warre. he therefore that is partiall in judgment, doth what in him lies, to deterre men from the use of judges, and arbitrators; and consequently, (against the fundamentall lawe of nature) is the cause of warre. the observance of this law, from the equall distribution to each man, of that which in reason belongeth to him, is called equity, and (as i have sayd before) distributive justice: the violation, acception of persons, prosopolepsia. the twelfth, equall use of things common and from this followeth another law, "that such things as cannot be divided, be enjoyed in common, if it can be; and if the quantity of the thing permit, without stint; otherwise proportionably to the number of them that have right." for otherwise the distribution is unequall, and contrary to equitie. the thirteenth, of lot but some things there be, that can neither be divided, nor enjoyed in common. then, the law of nature, which prescribeth equity, requireth, "that the entire right; or else, (making the use alternate,) the first possession, be determined by lot." for equall distribution, is of the law of nature; and other means of equall distribution cannot be imagined. the fourteenth, of primogeniture, and first seising of lots there be two sorts, arbitrary, and naturall. arbitrary, is that which is agreed on by the competitors; naturall, is either primogeniture, (which the greek calls kleronomia, which signifies, given by lot;) or first seisure. and therefore those things which cannot be enjoyed in common, nor divided, ought to be adjudged to the first possessor; and is some cases to the first-borne, as acquired by lot. the fifteenth, of mediators it is also a law of nature, "that all men that mediate peace, be allowed safe conduct." for the law that commandeth peace, as the end, commandeth intercession, as the means; and to intercession the means is safe conduct. the sixteenth, of submission to arbitrement and because, though men be never so willing to observe these lawes, there may neverthelesse arise questions concerning a mans action; first, whether it were done, or not done; secondly (if done) whether against the law, or not against the law; the former whereof, is called a question of fact; the later a question of right; therefore unlesse the parties to the question, covenant mutually to stand to the sentence of another, they are as farre from peace as ever. this other, to whose sentence they submit, is called an arbitrator. and therefore it is of the law of nature, "that they that are at controversie, submit their right to the judgement of an arbitrator." the seventeenth, no man is his own judge and seeing every man is presumed to do all things in order to his own benefit, no man is a fit arbitrator in his own cause: and if he were never so fit; yet equity allowing to each party equall benefit, if one be admitted to be judge, the other is to be admitted also; & so the controversie, that is, the cause of war, remains, against the law of nature. the eighteenth, no man to be judge, that has in him cause of partiality for the same reason no man in any cause ought to be received for arbitrator, to whom greater profit, or honour, or pleasure apparently ariseth out of the victory of one party, than of the other: for he hath taken (though an unavoydable bribe, yet) a bribe; and no man can be obliged to trust him. and thus also the controversie, and the condition of war remaineth, contrary to the law of nature. the nineteenth, of witnesse and in a controversie of fact, the judge being to give no more credit to one, than to the other, (if there be no other arguments) must give credit to a third; or to a third and fourth; or more: for else the question is undecided, and left to force, contrary to the law of nature. these are the lawes of nature, dictating peace, for a means of the conservation of men in multitudes; and which onely concern the doctrine of civill society. there be other things tending to the destruction of particular men; as drunkenness, and all other parts of intemperance; which may therefore also be reckoned amongst those things which the law of nature hath forbidden; but are not necessary to be mentioned, nor are pertinent enough to this place. a rule, by which the laws of nature may easily be examined and though this may seem too subtile a deduction of the lawes of nature, to be taken notice of by all men; whereof the most part are too busie in getting food, and the rest too negligent to understand; yet to leave all men unexcusable, they have been contracted into one easie sum, intelligible even to the meanest capacity; and that is, "do not that to another, which thou wouldest not have done to thy selfe;" which sheweth him, that he has no more to do in learning the lawes of nature, but, when weighing the actions of other men with his own, they seem too heavy, to put them into the other part of the ballance, and his own into their place, that his own passions, and selfe-love, may adde nothing to the weight; and then there is none of these lawes of nature that will not appear unto him very reasonable. the lawes of nature oblige in conscience alwayes, but in effect then onely when there is security the lawes of nature oblige in foro interno; that is to say, they bind to a desire they should take place: but in foro externo; that is, to the putting them in act, not alwayes. for he that should be modest, and tractable, and performe all he promises, in such time, and place, where no man els should do so, should but make himselfe a prey to others, and procure his own certain ruine, contrary to the ground of all lawes of nature, which tend to natures preservation. and again, he that shall observe the same lawes towards him, observes them not himselfe, seeketh not peace, but war; & consequently the destruction of his nature by violence. and whatsoever lawes bind in foro interno, may be broken, not onely by a fact contrary to the law but also by a fact according to it, in case a man think it contrary. for though his action in this case, be according to the law; which where the obligation is in foro interno, is a breach. the laws of nature are eternal; the lawes of nature are immutable and eternall, for injustice, ingratitude, arrogance, pride, iniquity, acception of persons, and the rest, can never be made lawfull. for it can never be that warre shall preserve life, and peace destroy it. and yet easie the same lawes, because they oblige onely to a desire, and endeavour, i mean an unfeigned and constant endeavour, are easie to be observed. for in that they require nothing but endeavour; he that endeavoureth their performance, fulfilleth them; and he that fulfilleth the law, is just. the science of these lawes, is the true morall philosophy and the science of them, is the true and onely moral philosophy. for morall philosophy is nothing else but the science of what is good, and evill, in the conversation, and society of mankind. good, and evill, are names that signifie our appetites, and aversions; which in different tempers, customes, and doctrines of men, are different: and divers men, differ not onely in their judgement, on the senses of what is pleasant, and unpleasant to the tast, smell, hearing, touch, and sight; but also of what is conformable, or disagreeable to reason, in the actions of common life. nay, the same man, in divers times, differs from himselfe; and one time praiseth, that is, calleth good, what another time he dispraiseth, and calleth evil: from whence arise disputes, controversies, and at last war. and therefore so long as man is in the condition of meer nature, (which is a condition of war,) as private appetite is the measure of good, and evill: and consequently all men agree on this, that peace is good, and therefore also the way, or means of peace, which (as i have shewed before) are justice, gratitude, modesty, equity, mercy, & the rest of the laws of nature, are good; that is to say, morall vertues; and their contrarie vices, evill. now the science of vertue and vice, is morall philosophie; and therfore the true doctrine of the lawes of nature, is the true morall philosophie. but the writers of morall philosophie, though they acknowledge the same vertues and vices; yet not seeing wherein consisted their goodnesse; nor that they come to be praised, as the meanes of peaceable, sociable, and comfortable living; place them in a mediocrity of passions: as if not the cause, but the degree of daring, made fortitude; or not the cause, but the quantity of a gift, made liberality. these dictates of reason, men use to call by the name of lawes; but improperly: for they are but conclusions, or theoremes concerning what conduceth to the conservation and defence of themselves; whereas law, properly is the word of him, that by right hath command over others. but yet if we consider the same theoremes, as delivered in the word of god, that by right commandeth all things; then are they properly called lawes. chapter xvi. of persons, authors, and things personated a person what a person, is he "whose words or actions are considered, either as his own, or as representing the words or actions of an other man, or of any other thing to whom they are attributed, whether truly or by fiction." person naturall, and artificiall when they are considered as his owne, then is he called a naturall person: and when they are considered as representing the words and actions of an other, then is he a feigned or artificiall person. the word person, whence the word person is latine: instead whereof the greeks have prosopon, which signifies the face, as persona in latine signifies the disguise, or outward appearance of a man, counterfeited on the stage; and somtimes more particularly that part of it, which disguiseth the face, as a mask or visard: and from the stage, hath been translated to any representer of speech and action, as well in tribunalls, as theaters. so that a person, is the same that an actor is, both on the stage and in common conversation; and to personate, is to act, or represent himselfe, or an other; and he that acteth another, is said to beare his person, or act in his name; (in which sence cicero useth it where he saies, "unus sustineo tres personas; mei, adversarii, & judicis, i beare three persons; my own, my adversaries, and the judges;") and is called in diverse occasions, diversly; as a representer, or representative, a lieutenant, a vicar, an attorney, a deputy, a procurator, an actor, and the like. actor, author; authority of persons artificiall, some have their words and actions owned by those whom they represent. and then the person is the actor; and he that owneth his words and actions, is the author: in which case the actor acteth by authority. for that which in speaking of goods and possessions, is called an owner, and in latine dominus, in greeke kurios; speaking of actions, is called author. and as the right of possession, is called dominion; so the right of doing any action, is called authority. so that by authority, is alwayes understood a right of doing any act: and done by authority, done by commission, or licence from him whose right it is. covenants by authority, bind the author from hence it followeth, that when the actor maketh a covenant by authority, he bindeth thereby the author, no lesse than if he had made it himselfe; and no lesse subjecteth him to all the consequences of the same. and therfore all that hath been said formerly, (chap. ) of the nature of covenants between man and man in their naturall capacity, is true also when they are made by their actors, representers, or procurators, that have authority from them, so far-forth as is in their commission, but no farther. and therefore he that maketh a covenant with the actor, or representer, not knowing the authority he hath, doth it at his own perill. for no man is obliged by a covenant, whereof he is not author; nor consequently by a covenant made against, or beside the authority he gave. but not the actor when the actor doth any thing against the law of nature by command of the author, if he be obliged by former covenant to obey him, not he, but the author breaketh the law of nature: for though the action be against the law of nature; yet it is not his: but contrarily; to refuse to do it, is against the law of nature, that forbiddeth breach of covenant. the authority is to be shewne and he that maketh a covenant with the author, by mediation of the actor, not knowing what authority he hath, but onely takes his word; in case such authority be not made manifest unto him upon demand, is no longer obliged: for the covenant made with the author, is not valid, without his counter-assurance. but if he that so covenanteth, knew before hand he was to expect no other assurance, than the actors word; then is the covenant valid; because the actor in this case maketh himselfe the author. and therefore, as when the authority is evident, the covenant obligeth the author, not the actor; so when the authority is feigned, it obligeth the actor onely; there being no author but himselfe. things personated, inanimate there are few things, that are uncapable of being represented by fiction. inanimate things, as a church, an hospital, a bridge, may be personated by a rector, master, or overseer. but things inanimate, cannot be authors, nor therefore give authority to their actors: yet the actors may have authority to procure their maintenance, given them by those that are owners, or governours of those things. and therefore, such things cannot be personated, before there be some state of civill government. irrational likewise children, fooles, and mad-men that have no use of reason, may be personated by guardians, or curators; but can be no authors (during that time) of any action done by them, longer then (when they shall recover the use of reason) they shall judge the same reasonable. yet during the folly, he that hath right of governing them, may give authority to the guardian. but this again has no place but in a state civill, because before such estate, there is no dominion of persons. false gods an idol, or meer figment of the brain, my be personated; as were the gods of the heathen; which by such officers as the state appointed, were personated, and held possessions, and other goods, and rights, which men from time to time dedicated, and consecrated unto them. but idols cannot be authors: for a idol is nothing. the authority proceeded from the state: and therefore before introduction of civill government, the gods of the heathen could not be personated. the true god the true god may be personated. as he was; first, by moses; who governed the israelites, (that were not his, but gods people,) not in his own name, with hoc dicit moses; but in gods name, with hoc dicit dominus. secondly, by the son of man, his own son our blessed saviour jesus christ, that came to reduce the jewes, and induce all nations into the kingdome of his father; not as of himselfe, but as sent from his father. and thirdly, by the holy ghost, or comforter, speaking, and working in the apostles: which holy ghost, was a comforter that came not of himselfe; but was sent, and proceeded from them both. a multitude of men, how one person a multitude of men, are made one person, when they are by one man, or one person, represented; so that it be done with the consent of every one of that multitude in particular. for it is the unity of the representer, not the unity of the represented, that maketh the person one. and it is the representer that beareth the person, and but one person: and unity, cannot otherwise be understood in multitude. every one is author and because the multitude naturally is not one, but many; they cannot be understood for one; but many authors, of every thing their representative faith, or doth in their name; every man giving their common representer, authority from himselfe in particular; and owning all the actions the representer doth, in case they give him authority without stint: otherwise, when they limit him in what, and how farre he shall represent them, none of them owneth more, than they gave him commission to act. an actor may be many men made one by plurality of voyces and if the representative consist of many men, the voyce of the greater number, must be considered as the voyce of them all. for if the lesser number pronounce (for example) in the affirmative, and the greater in the negative, there will be negatives more than enough to destroy the affirmatives; and thereby the excesse of negatives, standing uncontradicted, are the onely voyce the representative hath. representatives, when the number is even, unprofitable and a representative of even number, especially when the number is not great, whereby the contradictory voyces are oftentimes equall, is therefore oftentimes mute, and uncapable of action. yet in some cases contradictory voyces equall in number, may determine a question; as in condemning, or absolving, equality of votes, even in that they condemne not, do absolve; but not on the contrary condemne, in that they absolve not. for when a cause is heard; not to condemne, is to absolve; but on the contrary, to say that not absolving, is condemning, is not true. the like it is in a deliberation of executing presently, or deferring till another time; for when the voyces are equall, the not decreeing execution, is a decree of dilation. negative voyce or if the number be odde, as three, or more, (men, or assemblies;) whereof every one has by a negative voice, authority to take away the effect of all the affirmative voices of the rest, this number is no representative; because by the diversity of opinions, and interests of men, it becomes oftentimes, and in cases of the greatest consequence, a mute person, and unapt, as for may things else, so for the government of a multitude, especially in time of warre. of authors there be two sorts. the first simply so called; which i have before defined to be him, that owneth the action of another simply. the second is he, that owneth an action, or covenant of another conditionally; that is to say, he undertaketh to do it, if the other doth it not, at, or before a certain time. and these authors conditionall, are generally called suretyes, in latine fidejussores, and sponsores; and particularly for debt, praedes; and for appearance before a judge, or magistrate, vades. part ii. of common-wealth chapter xvii. of the causes, generation, and definition of a common-wealth the end of common-wealth, particular security the finall cause, end, or designe of men, (who naturally love liberty, and dominion over others,) in the introduction of that restraint upon themselves, (in which wee see them live in common-wealths,) is the foresight of their own preservation, and of a more contented life thereby; that is to say, of getting themselves out from that miserable condition of warre, which is necessarily consequent (as hath been shewn) to the naturall passions of men, when there is no visible power to keep them in awe, and tye them by feare of punishment to the performance of their covenants, and observation of these lawes of nature set down in the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters. which is not to be had from the law of nature: for the lawes of nature (as justice, equity, modesty, mercy, and (in summe) doing to others, as wee would be done to,) if themselves, without the terrour of some power, to cause them to be observed, are contrary to our naturall passions, that carry us to partiality, pride, revenge, and the like. and covenants, without the sword, are but words, and of no strength to secure a man at all. therefore notwithstanding the lawes of nature, (which every one hath then kept, when he has the will to keep them, when he can do it safely,) if there be no power erected, or not great enough for our security; every man will and may lawfully rely on his own strength and art, for caution against all other men. and in all places, where men have lived by small families, to robbe and spoyle one another, has been a trade, and so farre from being reputed against the law of nature, that the greater spoyles they gained, the greater was their honour; and men observed no other lawes therein, but the lawes of honour; that is, to abstain from cruelty, leaving to men their lives, and instruments of husbandry. and as small familyes did then; so now do cities and kingdomes which are but greater families (for their own security) enlarge their dominions, upon all pretences of danger, and fear of invasion, or assistance that may be given to invaders, endeavour as much as they can, to subdue, or weaken their neighbours, by open force, and secret arts, for want of other caution, justly; and are rememdbred for it in after ages with honour. nor from the conjunction of a few men or familyes nor is it the joyning together of a small number of men, that gives them this security; because in small numbers, small additions on the one side or the other, make the advantage of strength so great, as is sufficient to carry the victory; and therefore gives encouragement to an invasion. the multitude sufficient to confide in for our security, is not determined by any certain number, but by comparison with the enemy we feare; and is then sufficient, when the odds of the enemy is not of so visible and conspicuous moment, to determine the event of warre, as to move him to attempt. nor from a great multitude, unlesse directed by one judgement and be there never so great a multitude; yet if their actions be directed according to their particular judgements, and particular appetites, they can expect thereby no defence, nor protection, neither against a common enemy, nor against the injuries of one another. for being distracted in opinions concerning the best use and application of their strength, they do not help, but hinder one another; and reduce their strength by mutuall opposition to nothing: whereby they are easily, not onely subdued by a very few that agree together; but also when there is no common enemy, they make warre upon each other, for their particular interests. for if we could suppose a great multitude of men to consent in the observation of justice, and other lawes of nature, without a common power to keep them all in awe; we might as well suppose all man-kind to do the same; and then there neither would be nor need to be any civill government, or common-wealth at all; because there would be peace without subjection. and that continually nor is it enough for the security, which men desire should last all the time of their life, that they be governed, and directed by one judgement, for a limited time; as in one battell, or one warre. for though they obtain a victory by their unanimous endeavour against a forraign enemy; yet afterwards, when either they have no common enemy, or he that by one part is held for an enemy, is by another part held for a friend, they must needs by the difference of their interests dissolve, and fall again into a warre amongst themselves. why certain creatures without reason, or speech, do neverthelesse live in society, without any coercive power it is true, that certain living creatures, as bees, and ants, live sociably one with another, (which are therefore by aristotle numbred amongst politicall creatures;) and yet have no other direction, than their particular judgements and appetites; nor speech, whereby one of them can signifie to another, what he thinks expedient for the common benefit: and therefore some man may perhaps desire to know, why man-kind cannot do the same. to which i answer, first, that men are continually in competition for honour and dignity, which these creatures are not; and consequently amongst men there ariseth on that ground, envy and hatred, and finally warre; but amongst these not so. secondly, that amongst these creatures, the common good differeth not from the private; and being by nature enclined to their private, they procure thereby the common benefit. but man, whose joy consisteth in comparing himselfe with other men, can relish nothing but what is eminent. thirdly, that these creatures, having not (as man) the use of reason, do not see, nor think they see any fault, in the administration of their common businesse: whereas amongst men, there are very many, that thinke themselves wiser, and abler to govern the publique, better than the rest; and these strive to reforme and innovate, one this way, another that way; and thereby bring it into distraction and civill warre. fourthly, that these creatures, though they have some use of voice, in making knowne to one another their desires, and other affections; yet they want that art of words, by which some men can represent to others, that which is good, in the likenesse of evill; and evill, in the likenesse of good; and augment, or diminish the apparent greatnesse of good and evill; discontenting men, and troubling their peace at their pleasure. fiftly, irrationall creatures cannot distinguish betweene injury, and dammage; and therefore as long as they be at ease, they are not offended with their fellowes: whereas man is then most troublesome, when he is most at ease: for then it is that he loves to shew his wisdome, and controule the actions of them that governe the common-wealth. lastly, the agreement of these creatures is naturall; that of men, is by covenant only, which is artificiall: and therefore it is no wonder if there be somewhat else required (besides covenant) to make their agreement constant and lasting; which is a common power, to keep them in awe, and to direct their actions to the common benefit. the generation of a common-wealth the only way to erect such a common power, as may be able to defend them from the invasion of forraigners, and the injuries of one another, and thereby to secure them in such sort, as that by their owne industrie, and by the fruites of the earth, they may nourish themselves and live contentedly; is, to conferre all their power and strength upon one man, or upon one assembly of men, that may reduce all their wills, by plurality of voices, unto one will: which is as much as to say, to appoint one man, or assembly of men, to beare their person; and every one to owne, and acknowledge himselfe to be author of whatsoever he that so beareth their person, shall act, or cause to be acted, in those things which concerne the common peace and safetie; and therein to submit their wills, every one to his will, and their judgements, to his judgment. this is more than consent, or concord; it is a reall unitie of them all, in one and the same person, made by covenant of every man with every man, in such manner, as if every man should say to every man, "i authorise and give up my right of governing my selfe, to this man, or to this assembly of men, on this condition, that thou give up thy right to him, and authorise all his actions in like manner." this done, the multitude so united in one person, is called a common-wealth, in latine civitas. this is the generation of that great leviathan, or rather (to speake more reverently) of that mortall god, to which wee owe under the immortall god, our peace and defence. for by this authoritie, given him by every particular man in the common-wealth, he hath the use of so much power and strength conferred on him, that by terror thereof, he is inabled to forme the wills of them all, to peace at home, and mutuall ayd against their enemies abroad. the definition of a common-wealth and in him consisteth the essence of the common-wealth; which (to define it,) is "one person, of whose acts a great multitude, by mutuall covenants one with another, have made themselves every one the author, to the end he may use the strength and means of them all, as he shall think expedient, for their peace and common defence." soveraigne, and subject, what and he that carryeth this person, as called soveraigne, and said to have soveraigne power; and every one besides, his subject. the attaining to this soveraigne power, is by two wayes. one, by naturall force; as when a man maketh his children, to submit themselves, and their children to his government, as being able to destroy them if they refuse, or by warre subdueth his enemies to his will, giving them their lives on that condition. the other, is when men agree amongst themselves, to submit to some man, or assembly of men, voluntarily, on confidence to be protected by him against all others. this later, may be called a politicall common-wealth, or common-wealth by institution; and the former, a common-wealth by acquisition. and first, i shall speak of a common-wealth by institution. chapter xviii. of the rights of soveraignes by institution the act of instituting a common-wealth, what a common-wealth is said to be instituted, when a multitude of men do agree, and covenant, every one with every one, that to whatsoever man, or assembly of men, shall be given by the major part, the right to present the person of them all, (that is to say, to be their representative;) every one, as well he that voted for it, as he that voted against it, shall authorise all the actions and judgements, of that man, or assembly of men, in the same manner, as if they were his own, to the end, to live peaceably amongst themselves, and be protected against other men. the consequences to such institution, are i. the subjects cannot change the forme of government from this institution of a common-wealth are derived all the rights, and facultyes of him, or them, on whom the soveraigne power is conferred by the consent of the people assembled. first, because they covenant, it is to be understood, they are not obliged by former covenant to any thing repugnant hereunto. and consequently they that have already instituted a common-wealth, being thereby bound by covenant, to own the actions, and judgements of one, cannot lawfully make a new covenant, amongst themselves, to be obedient to any other, in any thing whatsoever, without his permission. and therefore, they that are subjects to a monarch, cannot without his leave cast off monarchy, and return to the confusion of a disunited multitude; nor transferre their person from him that beareth it, to another man, or other assembly of men: for they are bound, every man to every man, to own, and be reputed author of all, that he that already is their soveraigne, shall do, and judge fit to be done: so that any one man dissenting, all the rest should break their covenant made to that man, which is injustice: and they have also every man given the soveraignty to him that beareth their person; and therefore if they depose him, they take from him that which is his own, and so again it is injustice. besides, if he that attempteth to depose his soveraign, be killed, or punished by him for such attempt, he is author of his own punishment, as being by the institution, author of all his soveraign shall do: and because it is injustice for a man to do any thing, for which he may be punished by his own authority, he is also upon that title, unjust. and whereas some men have pretended for their disobedience to their soveraign, a new covenant, made, not with men, but with god; this also is unjust: for there is no covenant with god, but by mediation of some body that representeth gods person; which none doth but gods lieutenant, who hath the soveraignty under god. but this pretence of covenant with god, is so evident a lye, even in the pretenders own consciences, that it is not onely an act of an unjust, but also of a vile, and unmanly disposition. . soveraigne power cannot be forfeited secondly, because the right of bearing the person of them all, is given to him they make soveraigne, by covenant onely of one to another, and not of him to any of them; there can happen no breach of covenant on the part of the soveraigne; and consequently none of his subjects, by any pretence of forfeiture, can be freed from his subjection. that he which is made soveraigne maketh no covenant with his subjects beforehand, is manifest; because either he must make it with the whole multitude, as one party to the covenant; or he must make a severall covenant with every man. with the whole, as one party, it is impossible; because as yet they are not one person: and if he make so many severall covenants as there be men, those covenants after he hath the soveraignty are voyd, because what act soever can be pretended by any one of them for breach thereof, is the act both of himselfe, and of all the rest, because done in the person, and by the right of every one of them in particular. besides, if any one, or more of them, pretend a breach of the covenant made by the soveraigne at his institution; and others, or one other of his subjects, or himselfe alone, pretend there was no such breach, there is in this case, no judge to decide the controversie: it returns therefore to the sword again; and every man recovereth the right of protecting himselfe by his own strength, contrary to the designe they had in the institution. it is therefore in vain to grant soveraignty by way of precedent covenant. the opinion that any monarch receiveth his power by covenant, that is to say on condition, proceedeth from want of understanding this easie truth, that covenants being but words, and breath, have no force to oblige, contain, constrain, or protect any man, but what it has from the publique sword; that is, from the untyed hands of that man, or assembly of men that hath the soveraignty, and whose actions are avouched by them all, and performed by the strength of them all, in him united. but when an assembly of men is made soveraigne; then no man imagineth any such covenant to have past in the institution; for no man is so dull as to say, for example, the people of rome, made a covenant with the romans, to hold the soveraignty on such or such conditions; which not performed, the romans might lawfully depose the roman people. that men see not the reason to be alike in a monarchy, and in a popular government, proceedeth from the ambition of some, that are kinder to the government of an assembly, whereof they may hope to participate, than of monarchy, which they despair to enjoy. . no man can without injustice protest against the institution of the soveraigne declared by the major part. thirdly, because the major part hath by consenting voices declared a soveraigne; he that dissented must now consent with the rest; that is, be contented to avow all the actions he shall do, or else justly be destroyed by the rest. for if he voluntarily entered into the congregation of them that were assembled, he sufficiently declared thereby his will (and therefore tacitely covenanted) to stand to what the major part should ordayne: and therefore if he refuse to stand thereto, or make protestation against any of their decrees, he does contrary to his covenant, and therfore unjustly. and whether he be of the congregation, or not; and whether his consent be asked, or not, he must either submit to their decrees, or be left in the condition of warre he was in before; wherein he might without injustice be destroyed by any man whatsoever. . the soveraigns actions cannot be justly accused by the subject fourthly, because every subject is by this institution author of all the actions, and judgements of the soveraigne instituted; it followes, that whatsoever he doth, it can be no injury to any of his subjects; nor ought he to be by any of them accused of injustice. for he that doth any thing by authority from another, doth therein no injury to him by whose authority he acteth: but by this institution of a common-wealth, every particular man is author of all the soveraigne doth; and consequently he that complaineth of injury from his soveraigne, complaineth of that whereof he himselfe is author; and therefore ought not to accuse any man but himselfe; no nor himselfe of injury; because to do injury to ones selfe, is impossible. it is true that they that have soveraigne power, may commit iniquity; but not injustice, or injury in the proper signification. . what soever the soveraigne doth, is unpunishable by the subject fiftly, and consequently to that which was sayd last, no man that hath soveraigne power can justly be put to death, or otherwise in any manner by his subjects punished. for seeing every subject is author of the actions of his soveraigne; he punisheth another, for the actions committed by himselfe. . the soveraigne is judge of what is necessary for the peace and defence of his subjects and because the end of this institution, is the peace and defence of them all; and whosoever has right to the end, has right to the means; it belongeth of right, to whatsoever man, or assembly that hath the soveraignty, to be judge both of the meanes of peace and defence; and also of the hindrances, and disturbances of the same; and to do whatsoever he shall think necessary to be done, both beforehand, for the preserving of peace and security, by prevention of discord at home and hostility from abroad; and, when peace and security are lost, for the recovery of the same. and therefore, and judge of what doctrines are fit to be taught them sixtly, it is annexed to the soveraignty, to be judge of what opinions and doctrines are averse, and what conducing to peace; and consequently, on what occasions, how farre, and what, men are to be trusted withall, in speaking to multitudes of people; and who shall examine the doctrines of all bookes before they be published. for the actions of men proceed from their opinions; and in the wel governing of opinions, consisteth the well governing of mens actions, in order to their peace, and concord. and though in matter of doctrine, nothing ought to be regarded but the truth; yet this is not repugnant to regulating of the same by peace. for doctrine repugnant to peace, can no more be true, than peace and concord can be against the law of nature. it is true, that in a common-wealth, where by the negligence, or unskilfullnesse of governours, and teachers, false doctrines are by time generally received; the contrary truths may be generally offensive; yet the most sudden, and rough busling in of a new truth, that can be, does never breake the peace, but onely somtimes awake the warre. for those men that are so remissely governed, that they dare take up armes, to defend, or introduce an opinion, are still in warre; and their condition not peace, but only a cessation of armes for feare of one another; and they live as it were, in the procincts of battaile continually. it belongeth therefore to him that hath the soveraign power, to be judge, or constitute all judges of opinions and doctrines, as a thing necessary to peace, thereby to prevent discord and civill warre. . the right of making rules, whereby the subject may every man know what is so his owne, as no other subject can without injustice take it from him seventhly, is annexed to the soveraigntie, the whole power of prescribing the rules, whereby every man may know, what goods he may enjoy and what actions he may doe, without being molested by any of his fellow subjects: and this is it men call propriety. for before constitution of soveraign power (as hath already been shewn) all men had right to all things; which necessarily causeth warre: and therefore this proprietie, being necessary to peace, and depending on soveraign power, is the act of the power, in order to the publique peace. these rules of propriety (or meum and tuum) and of good, evill, lawfull and unlawfull in the actions of subjects, are the civill lawes, that is to say, the lawes of each commonwealth in particular; though the name of civill law be now restrained to the antient civill lawes of the city of rome; which being the head of a great part of the world, her lawes at that time were in these parts the civill law. . to him also belongeth the right of all judicature and decision of controversies: eightly, is annexed to the soveraigntie, the right of judicature; that is to say, of hearing and deciding all controversies, which may arise concerning law, either civill, or naturall, or concerning fact. for without the decision of controversies, there is no protection of one subject, against the injuries of another; the lawes concerning meum and tuum are in vaine; and to every man remaineth, from the naturall and necessary appetite of his own conservation, the right of protecting himselfe by his private strength, which is the condition of warre; and contrary to the end for which every common-wealth is instituted. . and of making war, and peace, as he shall think best: ninthly, is annexed to the soveraignty, the right of making warre, and peace with other nations, and common-wealths; that is to say, of judging when it is for the publique good, and how great forces are to be assembled, armed, and payd for that end; and to levy mony upon the subjects, to defray the expenses thereof. for the power by which the people are to be defended, consisteth in their armies; and the strength of an army, in the union of their strength under one command; which command the soveraign instituted, therefore hath; because the command of the militia, without other institution, maketh him that hath it soveraign. and therefore whosoever is made generall of an army, he that hath the soveraign power is alwayes generallissimo. . and of choosing all counsellours, and ministers, both of peace, and warre: tenthly, is annexed to the soveraignty, the choosing of all councellours, ministers, magistrates, and officers, both in peace, and war. for seeing the soveraign is charged with the end, which is the common peace and defence; he is understood to have power to use such means, as he shall think most fit for his discharge. . and of rewarding, and punishing, and that (where no former law hath determined the measure of it) arbitrary: eleventhly, to the soveraign is committed the power of rewarding with riches, or honour; and of punishing with corporall, or pecuniary punishment, or with ignominy every subject according to the lawe he hath formerly made; or if there be no law made, according as he shall judge most to conduce to the encouraging of men to serve the common-wealth, or deterring of them from doing dis-service to the same. . and of honour and order lastly, considering what values men are naturally apt to set upon themselves; what respect they look for from others; and how little they value other men; from whence continually arise amongst them, emulation, quarrells, factions, and at last warre, to the destroying of one another, and diminution of their strength against a common enemy; it is necessary that there be lawes of honour, and a publique rate of the worth of such men as have deserved, or are able to deserve well of the common-wealth; and that there be force in the hands of some or other, to put those lawes in execution. but it hath already been shown, that not onely the whole militia, or forces of the common-wealth; but also the judicature of all controversies, is annexed to the soveraignty. to the soveraign therefore it belongeth also to give titles of honour; and to appoint what order of place, and dignity, each man shall hold; and what signes of respect, in publique or private meetings, they shall give to one another. these rights are indivisible these are the rights, which make the essence of soveraignty; and which are the markes, whereby a man may discern in what man, or assembly of men, the soveraign power is placed, and resideth. for these are incommunicable, and inseparable. the power to coyn mony; to dispose of the estate and persons of infant heires; to have praeemption in markets; and all other statute praerogatives, may be transferred by the soveraign; and yet the power to protect his subject be retained. but if he transferre the militia, he retains the judicature in vain, for want of execution of the lawes; or if he grant away the power of raising mony; the militia is in vain: or if he give away the government of doctrines, men will be frighted into rebellion with the feare of spirits. and so if we consider any one of the said rights, we shall presently see, that the holding of all the rest, will produce no effect, in the conservation of peace and justice, the end for which all common-wealths are instituted. and this division is it, whereof it is said, "a kingdome divided in it selfe cannot stand:" for unlesse this division precede, division into opposite armies can never happen. if there had not first been an opinion received of the greatest part of england, that these powers were divided between the king, and the lords, and the house of commons, the people had never been divided, and fallen into this civill warre; first between those that disagreed in politiques; and after between the dissenters about the liberty of religion; which have so instructed men in this point of soveraign right, that there be few now (in england,) that do not see, that these rights are inseparable, and will be so generally acknowledged, at the next return of peace; and so continue, till their miseries are forgotten; and no longer, except the vulgar be better taught than they have hetherto been. and can by no grant passe away without direct renouncing of the soveraign power and because they are essentiall and inseparable rights, it follows necessarily, that in whatsoever, words any of them seem to be granted away, yet if the soveraign power it selfe be not in direct termes renounced, and the name of soveraign no more given by the grantees to him that grants them, the grant is voyd: for when he has granted all he can, if we grant back the soveraignty, all is restored, as inseparably annexed thereunto. the power and honour of subjects vanisheth in the presence of the power soveraign this great authority being indivisible, and inseparably annexed to the soveraignty, there is little ground for the opinion of them, that say of soveraign kings, though they be singulis majores, of greater power than every one of their subjects, yet they be universis minores, of lesse power than them all together. for if by all together, they mean not the collective body as one person, then all together, and every one, signifie the same; and the speech is absurd. but if by all together, they understand them as one person (which person the soveraign bears,) then the power of all together, is the same with the soveraigns power; and so again the speech is absurd; which absurdity they see well enough, when the soveraignty is in an assembly of the people; but in a monarch they see it not; and yet the power of soveraignty is the same in whomsoever it be placed. and as the power, so also the honour of the soveraign, ought to be greater, than that of any, or all the subjects. for in the soveraignty is the fountain of honour. the dignities of lord, earle, duke, and prince are his creatures. as in the presence of the master, the servants are equall, and without any honour at all; so are the subjects, in the presence of the soveraign. and though they shine some more, some lesse, when they are out of his sight; yet in his presence, they shine no more than the starres in presence of the sun. soveraigne power not hurtfull as the want of it, and the hurt proceeds for the greatest part from not submitting readily, to a lesse but a man may here object, that the condition of subjects is very miserable; as being obnoxious to the lusts, and other irregular passions of him, or them that have so unlimited a power in their hands. and commonly they that live under a monarch, think it the fault of monarchy; and they that live under the government of democracy, or other soveraign assembly, attribute all the inconvenience to that forme of common-wealth; whereas the power in all formes, if they be perfect enough to protect them, is the same; not considering that the estate of man can never be without some incommodity or other; and that the greatest, that in any forme of government can possibly happen to the people in generall, is scarce sensible, in respect of the miseries, and horrible calamities, that accompany a civill warre; or that dissolute condition of masterlesse men, without subjection to lawes, and a coercive power to tye their hands from rapine, and revenge: nor considering that the greatest pressure of soveraign governours, proceedeth not from any delight, or profit they can expect in the dammage, or weakening of their subjects, in whose vigor, consisteth their own selves, that unwillingly contributing to their own defence, make it necessary for their governours to draw from them what they can in time of peace, that they may have means on any emergent occasion, or sudden need, to resist, or take advantage on their enemies. for all men are by nature provided of notable multiplying glasses, (that is their passions and self-love,) through which, every little payment appeareth a great grievance; but are destitute of those prospective glasses, (namely morall and civill science,) to see a farre off the miseries that hang over them, and cannot without such payments be avoyded. chapter xix. of the severall kinds of common-wealth by institution, and of succession to the soveraigne power the different formes of common-wealths but three the difference of common-wealths, consisteth in the difference of the soveraign, or the person representative of all and every one of the multitude. and because the soveraignty is either in one man, or in an assembly of more than one; and into that assembly either every man hath right to enter, or not every one, but certain men distinguished from the rest; it is manifest, there can be but three kinds of common-wealth. for the representative must needs be one man, or more: and if more, then it is the assembly of all, or but of a part. when the representative is one man, then is the common-wealth a monarchy: when an assembly of all that will come together, then it is a democracy, or popular common-wealth: when an assembly of a part onely, then it is called an aristocracy. other kind of common-wealth there can be none: for either one, or more, or all must have the soveraign power (which i have shewn to be indivisible) entire. tyranny and oligarchy, but different names of monarchy, and aristocracy there be other names of government, in the histories, and books of policy; as tyranny, and oligarchy: but they are not the names of other formes of government, but of the same formes misliked. for they that are discontented under monarchy, call it tyranny; and they that are displeased with aristocracy, called it oligarchy: so also, they which find themselves grieved under a democracy, call it anarchy, (which signifies want of government;) and yet i think no man believes, that want of government, is any new kind of government: nor by the same reason ought they to believe, that the government is of one kind, when they like it, and another, when they mislike it, or are oppressed by the governours. subordinate representatives dangerous it is manifest, that men who are in absolute liberty, may, if they please, give authority to one man, to represent them every one; as well as give such authority to any assembly of men whatsoever; and consequently may subject themselves, if they think good, to a monarch, as absolutely, as to any other representative. therefore, where there is already erected a soveraign power, there can be no other representative of the same people, but onely to certain particular ends, by the soveraign limited. for that were to erect two soveraigns; and every man to have his person represented by two actors, that by opposing one another, must needs divide that power, which (if men will live in peace) is indivisible, and thereby reduce the multitude into the condition of warre, contrary to the end for which all soveraignty is instituted. and therefore as it is absurd, to think that a soveraign assembly, inviting the people of their dominion, to send up their deputies, with power to make known their advise, or desires, should therefore hold such deputies, rather than themselves, for the absolute representative of the people: so it is absurd also, to think the same in a monarchy. and i know not how this so manifest a truth, should of late be so little observed; that in a monarchy, he that had the soveraignty from a descent of years, was alone called soveraign, had the title of majesty from every one of his subjects, and was unquestionably taken by them for their king; was notwithstanding never considered as their representative; that name without contradiction passing for the title of those men, which at his command were sent up by the people to carry their petitions, and give him (if he permitted it) their advise. which may serve as an admonition, for those that are the true, and absolute representative of a people, to instruct men in the nature of that office, and to take heed how they admit of any other generall representation upon any occasion whatsoever, if they mean to discharge the truth committed to them. comparison of monarchy, with soveraign assemblyes the difference between these three kindes of common-wealth, consisteth not in the difference of power; but in the difference of convenience, or aptitude to produce the peace, and security of the people; for which end they were instituted. and to compare monarchy with the other two, we may observe; first, that whosoever beareth the person of the people, or is one of that assembly that bears it, beareth also his own naturall person. and though he be carefull in his politique person to procure the common interest; yet he is more, or no lesse carefull to procure the private good of himselfe, his family, kindred and friends; and for the most part, if the publique interest chance to crosse the private, he preferrs the private: for the passions of men, are commonly more potent than their reason. from whence it follows, that where the publique and private interest are most closely united, there is the publique most advanced. now in monarchy, the private interest is the same with the publique. the riches, power, and honour of a monarch arise onely from the riches, strength and reputation of his subjects. for no king can be rich, nor glorious, nor secure; whose subjects are either poore, or contemptible, or too weak through want, or dissention, to maintain a war against their enemies: whereas in a democracy, or aristocracy, the publique prosperity conferres not so much to the private fortune of one that is corrupt, or ambitious, as doth many times a perfidious advice, a treacherous action, or a civill warre. secondly, that a monarch receiveth counsell of whom, when, and where he pleaseth; and consequently may heare the opinion of men versed in the matter about which he deliberates, of what rank or quality soever, and as long before the time of action, and with as much secrecy, as he will. but when a soveraigne assembly has need of counsell, none are admitted but such as have a right thereto from the beginning; which for the most part are of those who have beene versed more in the acquisition of wealth than of knowledge; and are to give their advice in long discourses, which may, and do commonly excite men to action, but not governe them in it. for the understanding is by the flame of the passions, never enlightned, but dazled: nor is there any place, or time, wherein an assemblie can receive counsell with secrecie, because of their owne multitude. thirdly, that the resolutions of a monarch, are subject to no other inconstancy, than that of humane nature; but in assemblies, besides that of nature, there ariseth an inconstancy from the number. for the absence of a few, that would have the resolution once taken, continue firme, (which may happen by security, negligence, or private impediments,) or the diligent appearance of a few of the contrary opinion, undoes to day, all that was concluded yesterday. fourthly, that a monarch cannot disagree with himselfe, out of envy, or interest; but an assembly may; and that to such a height, as may produce a civill warre. fifthly, that in monarchy there is this inconvenience; that any subject, by the power of one man, for the enriching of a favourite or flatterer, may be deprived of all he possesseth; which i confesse is a great and inevitable inconvenience. but the same may as well happen, where the soveraigne power is in an assembly: for their power is the same; and they are as subject to evill counsell, and to be seduced by orators, as a monarch by flatterers; and becoming one an others flatterers, serve one anothers covetousnesse and ambition by turnes. and whereas the favorites of an assembly, are many; and the kindred much more numerous, than of any monarch. besides, there is no favourite of a monarch, which cannot as well succour his friends, as hurt his enemies: but orators, that is to say, favourites of soveraigne assemblies, though they have great power to hurt, have little to save. for to accuse, requires lesse eloquence (such is mans nature) than to excuse; and condemnation, than absolution more resembles justice. sixtly, that it is an inconvenience in monarchie, that the soveraigntie may descend upon an infant, or one that cannot discerne between good and evill: and consisteth in this, that the use of his power, must be in the hand of another man, or of some assembly of men, which are to governe by his right, and in his name; as curators, and protectors of his person, and authority. but to say there is inconvenience, in putting the use of the soveraign power, into the hand of a man, or an assembly of men; is to say that all government is more inconvenient, than confusion, and civill warre. and therefore all the danger that can be pretended, must arise from the contention of those, that for an office of so great honour, and profit, may become competitors. to make it appear, that this inconvenience, proceedeth not from that forme of government we call monarchy, we are to consider, that the precedent monarch, hath appointed who shall have the tuition of his infant successor, either expressely by testament, or tacitly, by not controlling the custome in that case received: and then such inconvenience (if it happen) is to be attributed, not to the monarchy, but to the ambition, and injustice of the subjects; which in all kinds of government, where the people are not well instructed in their duty, and the rights of soveraignty, is the same. or else the precedent monarch, hath not at all taken order for such tuition; and then the law of nature hath provided this sufficient rule, that the tuition shall be in him, that hath by nature most interest in the preservation of the authority of the infant, and to whom least benefit can accrue by his death, or diminution. for seeing every man by nature seeketh his own benefit, and promotion; to put an infant into the power of those, that can promote themselves by his destruction, or dammage, is not tuition, but trechery. so that sufficient provision being taken, against all just quarrell, about the government under a child, if any contention arise to the disturbance of the publique peace, it is not to be attributed to the forme of monarchy, but to the ambition of subjects, and ignorance of their duty. on the other side, there is no great common-wealth, the soveraignty whereof is in a great assembly, which is not, as to consultations of peace, and warre, and making of lawes, in the same condition, as if the government were in a child. for as a child wants the judgement to dissent from counsell given him, and is thereby necessitated to take the advise of them, or him, to whom he is committed: so an assembly wanteth the liberty, to dissent from the counsell of the major part, be it good, or bad. and as a child has need of a tutor, or protector, to preserve his person, and authority: so also (in great common-wealths,) the soveraign assembly, in all great dangers and troubles, have need of custodes libertatis; that is of dictators, or protectors of their authoritie; which are as much as temporary monarchs; to whom for a time, they may commit the entire exercise of their power; and have (at the end of that time) been oftner deprived thereof, than infant kings, by their protectors, regents, or any other tutors. though the kinds of soveraigntie be, as i have now shewn, but three; that is to say, monarchie, where one man has it; or democracie, where the generall assembly of subjects hath it; or aristocracie, where it is in an assembly of certain persons nominated, or otherwise distinguished from the rest: yet he that shall consider the particular common-wealthes that have been, and are in the world, will not perhaps easily reduce them to three, and may thereby be inclined to think there be other formes, arising from these mingled together. as for example, elective kingdomes; where kings have the soveraigne power put into their hands for a time; of kingdomes, wherein the king hath a power limited: which governments, are nevertheless by most writers called monarchie. likewise if a popular, or aristocraticall common-wealth, subdue an enemies countrie, and govern the same, by a president, procurator, or other magistrate; this may seeme perhaps at first sight, to be a democraticall, or aristocraticall government. but it is not so. for elective kings, are not soveraignes, but ministers of the soveraigne; nor limited kings soveraignes, but ministers of them that have the soveraigne power: nor are those provinces which are in subjection to a democracie, or aristocracie of another common-wealth, democratically, or aristocratically governed, but monarchically. and first, concerning an elective king, whose power is limited to his life, as it is in many places of christendome at this day; or to certaine yeares or moneths, as the dictators power amongst the romans; if he have right to appoint his successor, he is no more elective but hereditary. but if he have no power to elect his successor, then there is some other man, or assembly known, which after his decease may elect a new, or else the common-wealth dieth, and dissolveth with him, and returneth to the condition of warre. if it be known who have the power to give the soveraigntie after his death, it is known also that the soveraigntie was in them before: for none have right to give that which they have not right to possesse, and keep to themselves, if they think good. but if there be none that can give the soveraigntie, after the decease of him that was first elected; then has he power, nay he is obliged by the law of nature, to provide, by establishing his successor, to keep those that had trusted him with the government, from relapsing into the miserable condition of civill warre. and consequently he was, when elected, a soveraign absolute. secondly, that king whose power is limited, is not superiour to him, or them that have the power to limit it; and he that is not superiour, is not supreme; that is to say not soveraign. the soveraignty therefore was alwaies in that assembly which had the right to limit him; and by consequence the government not monarchy, but either democracy, or aristocracy; as of old time in sparta; where the kings had a priviledge to lead their armies; but the soveraignty was in the ephori. thirdly, whereas heretofore the roman people, governed the land of judea (for example) by a president; yet was not judea therefore a democracy; because they were not governed by any assembly, into which, any of them, had right to enter; nor by an aristocracy; because they were not governed by any assembly, into which, any man could enter by their election: but they were governed by one person, which though as to the people of rome was an assembly of the people, or democracy; yet as to the people of judea, which had no right at all of participating in the government, was a monarch. for though where the people are governed by an assembly, chosen by themselves out of their own number, the government is called a democracy, or aristocracy; yet when they are governed by an assembly, not of their own choosing, 'tis a monarchy; not of one man, over another man; but of one people, over another people. of the right of succession of all these formes of government, the matter being mortall, so that not onely monarchs, but also whole assemblies dy, it is necessary for the conservation of the peace of men, that as there was order taken for an artificiall man, so there be order also taken, for an artificiall eternity of life; without which, men that are governed by an assembly, should return into the condition of warre in every age; and they that are governed by one man, as soon as their governour dyeth. this artificiall eternity, is that which men call the right of succession. there is no perfect forme of government, where the disposing of the succession is not in the present soveraign. for if it be in any other particular man, or private assembly, it is in a person subject, and may be assumed by the soveraign at his pleasure; and consequently the right is in himselfe. and if it be in no particular man, but left to a new choyce; then is the common-wealth dissolved; and the right is in him that can get it; contrary to the intention of them that did institute the common-wealth, for their perpetuall, and not temporary security. in a democracy, the whole assembly cannot faile, unlesse the multitude that are to be governed faile. and therefore questions of the right of succession, have in that forme of government no place at all. in an aristocracy, when any of the assembly dyeth, the election of another into his room belongeth to the assembly, as the soveraign, to whom belongeth the choosing of all counsellours, and officers. for that which the representative doth, as actor, every one of the subjects doth, as author. and though the soveraign assembly, may give power to others, to elect new men, for supply of their court; yet it is still by their authority, that the election is made; and by the same it may (when the publique shall require it) be recalled. the present monarch hath right to dispose of the succession the greatest difficultie about the right of succession, is in monarchy: and the difficulty ariseth from this, that at first sight, it is not manifest who is to appoint the successor; nor many times, who it is whom he hath appointed. for in both these cases, there is required a more exact ratiocination, than every man is accustomed to use. as to the question, who shall appoint the successor, of a monarch that hath the soveraign authority; that is to say, (for elective kings and princes have not the soveraign power in propriety, but in use only,) we are to consider, that either he that is in possession, has right to dispose of the succession, or else that right is again in the dissolved multitude. for the death of him that hath the soveraign power in propriety, leaves the multitude without any soveraign at all; that is, without any representative in whom they should be united, and be capable of doing any one action at all: and therefore they are incapable of election of any new monarch; every man having equall right to submit himselfe to such as he thinks best able to protect him, or if he can, protect himselfe by his owne sword; which is a returne to confusion, and to the condition of a war of every man against every man, contrary to the end for which monarchy had its first institution. therfore it is manifest, that by the institution of monarchy, the disposing of the successor, is alwaies left to the judgment and will of the present possessor. and for the question (which may arise sometimes) who it is that the monarch in possession, hath designed to the succession and inheritance of his power; it is determined by his expresse words, and testament; or by other tacite signes sufficient. succession passeth by expresse words; by expresse words, or testament, when it is declared by him in his life time, viva voce, or by writing; as the first emperours of rome declared who should be their heires. for the word heire does not of it selfe imply the children, or nearest kindred of a man; but whomsoever a man shall any way declare, he would have to succeed him in his estate. if therefore a monarch declare expresly, that such a man shall be his heire, either by word or writing, then is that man immediately after the decease of his predecessor, invested in the right of being monarch. or, by not controlling a custome; but where testament, and expresse words are wanting, other naturall signes of the will are to be followed: whereof the one is custome. and therefore where the custome is, that the next of kindred absolutely succeedeth, there also the next of kindred hath right to the succession; for that, if the will of him that was in posession had been otherwise, he might easily have declared the same in his life time. and likewise where the custome is, that the next of the male kindred succeedeth, there also the right of succession is in the next of the kindred male, for the same reason. and so it is if the custome were to advance the female. for whatsoever custome a man may by a word controule, and does not, it is a naturall signe he would have that custome stand. or, by presumption of naturall affection but where neither custome, nor testament hath preceded, there it is to be understood, first, that a monarchs will is, that the government remain monarchicall; because he hath approved that government in himselfe. secondly, that a child of his own, male, or female, be preferred before any other; because men are presumed to be more enclined by nature, to advance their own children, than the children of other men; and of their own, rather a male than a female; because men, are naturally fitter than women, for actions of labour and danger. thirdly, where his own issue faileth, rather a brother than a stranger; and so still the neerer in bloud, rather than the more remote, because it is alwayes presumed that the neerer of kin, is the neerer in affection; and 'tis evident that a man receives alwayes, by reflexion, the most honour from the greatnesse of his neerest kindred. to dispose of the succession, though to a king of another nation, not unlawfull but if it be lawfull for a monarch to dispose of the succession by words of contract, or testament, men may perhaps object a great inconvenience: for he may sell, or give his right of governing to a stranger; which, because strangers (that is, men not used to live under the same government, not speaking the same language) do commonly undervalue one another, may turn to the oppression of his subjects; which is indeed a great inconvenience; but it proceedeth not necessarily from the subjection to a strangers government, but from the unskilfulnesse of the governours, ignorant of the true rules of politiques. and therefore the romans when they had subdued many nations, to make their government digestible, were wont to take away that grievance, as much as they thought necessary, by giving sometimes to whole nations, and sometimes to principall men of every nation they conquered, not onely the privileges, but also the name of romans; and took many of them into the senate, and offices of charge, even in the roman city. and this was it our most wise king, king james, aymed at, in endeavouring the union of his two realms of england and scotland. which if he could have obtained, had in all likelihood prevented the civill warres, which make both those kingdomes at this present, miserable. it is not therefore any injury to the people, for a monarch to dispose of the succession by will; though by the fault of many princes, it hath been sometimes found inconvenient. of the lawfulnesse of it, this also is an argument, that whatsoever inconvenience can arrive by giving a kingdome to a stranger, may arrive also by so marrying with strangers, as the right of succession may descend upon them: yet this by all men is accounted lawfull. chapter xx. of dominion paternall and despoticall a common-wealth by acquisition, is that, where the soveraign power is acquired by force; and it is acquired by force, when men singly, or many together by plurality of voyces, for fear of death, or bonds, do authorise all the actions of that man, or assembly, that hath their lives and liberty in his power. wherein different from a common-wealth by institution and this kind of dominion, or soveraignty, differeth from soveraignty by institution, onely in this, that men who choose their soveraign, do it for fear of one another, and not of him whom they institute: but in this case, they subject themselves, to him they are afraid of. in both cases they do it for fear: which is to be noted by them, that hold all such covenants, as proceed from fear of death, or violence, voyd: which if it were true, no man, in any kind of common-wealth, could be obliged to obedience. it is true, that in a common-wealth once instituted, or acquired, promises proceeding from fear of death, or violence, are no covenants, nor obliging, when the thing promised is contrary to the lawes; but the reason is not, because it was made upon fear, but because he that promiseth, hath no right in the thing promised. also, when he may lawfully performe, and doth not, it is not the invalidity of the covenant, that absolveth him, but the sentence of the soveraign. otherwise, whensoever a man lawfully promiseth, he unlawfully breaketh: but when the soveraign, who is the actor, acquitteth him, then he is acquitted by him that exorted the promise, as by the author of such absolution. the rights of soveraignty the same in both but the rights, and consequences of soveraignty, are the same in both. his power cannot, without his consent, be transferred to another: he cannot forfeit it: he cannot be accused by any of his subjects, of injury: he cannot be punished by them: he is judge of what is necessary for peace; and judge of doctrines: he is sole legislator; and supreme judge of controversies; and of the times, and occasions of warre, and peace: to him it belongeth to choose magistrates, counsellours, commanders, and all other officers, and ministers; and to determine of rewards, and punishments, honour, and order. the reasons whereof, are the same which are alledged in the precedent chapter, for the same rights, and consequences of soveraignty by institution. dominion paternall how attained not by generation, but by contract dominion is acquired two wayes; by generation, and by conquest. the right of dominion by generation, is that, which the parent hath over his children; and is called paternall. and is not so derived from the generation, as if therefore the parent had dominion over his child because he begat him; but from the childs consent, either expresse, or by other sufficient arguments declared. for as to the generation, god hath ordained to man a helper; and there be alwayes two that are equally parents: the dominion therefore over the child, should belong equally to both; and he be equally subject to both, which is impossible; for no man can obey two masters. and whereas some have attributed the dominion to the man onely, as being of the more excellent sex; they misreckon in it. for there is not always that difference of strength or prudence between the man and the woman, as that the right can be determined without war. in common-wealths, this controversie is decided by the civill law: and for the most part, (but not alwayes) the sentence is in favour of the father; because for the most part common-wealths have been erected by the fathers, not by the mothers of families. but the question lyeth now in the state of meer nature; where there are supposed no lawes of matrimony; no lawes for the education of children; but the law of nature, and the naturall inclination of the sexes, one to another, and to their children. in this condition of meer nature, either the parents between themselves dispose of the dominion over the child by contract; or do not dispose thereof at all. if they dispose thereof, the right passeth according to the contract. we find in history that the amazons contracted with the men of the neighbouring countries, to whom they had recourse for issue, that the issue male should be sent back, but the female remain with themselves: so that the dominion of the females was in the mother. or education; if there be no contract, the dominion is in the mother. for in the condition of meer nature, where there are no matrimoniall lawes, it cannot be known who is the father, unlesse it be declared by the mother: and therefore the right of dominion over the child dependeth on her will, and is consequently hers. again, seeing the infant is first in the power of the mother; so as she may either nourish, or expose it, if she nourish it, it oweth its life to the mother; and is therefore obliged to obey her, rather than any other; and by consequence the dominion over it is hers. but if she expose it, and another find, and nourish it, the dominion is in him that nourisheth it. for it ought to obey him by whom it is preserved; because preservation of life being the end, for which one man becomes subject to another, every man is supposed to promise obedience, to him, in whose power it is to save, or destroy him. or precedent subjection of one of the parents to the other if the mother be the fathers subject, the child, is in the fathers power: and if the father be the mothers subject, (as when a soveraign queen marrieth one of her subjects,) the child is subject to the mother; because the father also is her subject. if a man and a woman, monarches of two severall kingdomes, have a child, and contract concerning who shall have the dominion of him, the right of the dominion passeth by the contract. if they contract not, the dominion followeth the dominion of the place of his residence. for the soveraign of each country hath dominion over all that reside therein. he that hath the dominion over the child, hath dominion also over their childrens children. for he that hath dominion over the person of a man, hath dominion over all that is his; without which, dominion were but a title, without the effect. the right of succession followeth the rules of the rights of possession the right of succession to paternall dominion, proceedeth in the same manner, as doth the right of succession to monarchy; of which i have already sufficiently spoken in the precedent chapter. despoticall dominion, how attained dominion acquired by conquest, or victory in war, is that which some writers call despoticall, from despotes, which signifieth a lord, or master; and is the dominion of the master over his servant. and this dominion is then acquired to the victor, when the vanquished, to avoyd the present stroke of death, covenanteth either in expresse words, or by other sufficient signes of the will, that so long as his life, and the liberty of his body is allowed him, the victor shall have the use thereof, at his pleasure. and after such covenant made, the vanquished is a servant, and not before: for by the word servant (whether it be derived from servire, to serve, or from servare, to save, which i leave to grammarians to dispute) is not meant a captive, which is kept in prison, or bonds, till the owner of him that took him, or bought him of one that did, shall consider what to do with him: (for such men, (commonly called slaves,) have no obligation at all; but may break their bonds, or the prison; and kill, or carry away captive their master, justly:) but one, that being taken, hath corporall liberty allowed him; and upon promise not to run away, nor to do violence to his master, is trusted by him. not by the victory, but by the consent of the vanquished it is not therefore the victory, that giveth the right of dominion over the vanquished, but his own covenant. nor is he obliged because he is conquered; that is to say, beaten, and taken, or put to flight; but because he commeth in, and submitteth to the victor; nor is the victor obliged by an enemies rendring himselfe, (without promise of life,) to spare him for this his yeelding to discretion; which obliges not the victor longer, than in his own discretion hee shall think fit. and that men do, when they demand (as it is now called) quarter, (which the greeks called zogria, taking alive,) is to evade the present fury of the victor, by submission, and to compound for their life, with ransome, or service: and therefore he that hath quarter, hath not his life given, but deferred till farther deliberation; for it is not an yeelding on condition of life, but to discretion. and then onely is his life in security, and his service due, when the victor hath trusted him with his corporall liberty. for slaves that work in prisons, or fetters, do it not of duty, but to avoyd the cruelty of their task-masters. the master of the servant, is master also of all he hath; and may exact the use thereof; that is to say, of his goods, of his labour, of his servants, and of his children, as often as he shall think fit. for he holdeth his life of his master, by the covenant of obedience; that is, of owning, and authorising whatsoever the master shall do. and in case the master, if he refuse, kill him, or cast him into bonds, or otherwise punish him for his disobedience, he is himselfe the author of the same; and cannot accuse him of injury. in summe the rights and consequences of both paternall and despoticall dominion, are the very same with those of a soveraign by institution; and for the same reasons: which reasons are set down in the precedent chapter. so that for a man that is monarch of divers nations, whereof he hath, in one the soveraignty by institution of the people assembled, and in another by conquest, that is by the submission of each particular, to avoyd death or bonds; to demand of one nation more than of the other, from the title of conquest, as being a conquered nation, is an act of ignorance of the rights of soveraignty. for the soveraign is absolute over both alike; or else there is no soveraignty at all; and so every man may lawfully protect himselfe, if he can, with his own sword, which is the condition of war. difference between a family and a kingdom by this it appears, that a great family if it be not part of some common-wealth, is of it self, as to the rights of soveraignty, a little monarchy; whether that family consist of a man and his children; or of a man and his servants; or of a man, and his children, and servants together: wherein the father of master is the soveraign. but yet a family is not properly a common-wealth; unlesse it be of that power by its own number, or by other opportunities, as not to be subdued without the hazard of war. for where a number of men are manifestly too weak to defend themselves united, every one may use his own reason in time of danger, to save his own life, either by flight, or by submission to the enemy, as hee shall think best; in the same manner as a very small company of souldiers, surprised by an army, may cast down their armes, and demand quarter, or run away, rather than be put to the sword. and thus much shall suffice; concerning what i find by speculation, and deduction, of soveraign rights, from the nature, need, and designes of men, in erecting of commonwealths, and putting themselves under monarchs, or assemblies, entrusted with power enough for their protection. the right of monarchy from scripture let us now consider what the scripture teacheth in the same point. to moses, the children of israel say thus. (exod. . ) "speak thou to us, and we will heare thee; but let not god speak to us, lest we dye." this is absolute obedience to moses. concerning the right of kings, god himself by the mouth of samuel, saith, ( sam. . , , &c.) "this shall be the right of the king you will have to reigne over you. he shall take your sons, and set them to drive his chariots, and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots; and gather in his harvest; and to make his engines of war, and instruments of his chariots; and shall take your daughters to make perfumes, to be his cookes, and bakers. he shall take your fields, your vine-yards, and your olive-yards, and give them to his servants. he shall take the tyth of your corne and wine, and give it to the men of his chamber, and to his other servants. he shall take your man-servants, and your maid-servants, and the choice of your youth, and employ them in his businesse. he shall take the tyth of your flocks; and you shall be his servants." this is absolute power, and summed up in the last words, "you shall be his servants." againe, when the people heard what power their king was to have, yet they consented thereto, and say thus, (verse. &c.) "we will be as all other nations, and our king shall judge our causes, and goe before us, to conduct our wars." here is confirmed the right that soveraigns have, both to the militia, and to all judicature; in which is conteined as absolute power, as one man can possibly transferre to another. again, the prayer of king salomon to god, was this. ( kings . ) "give to thy servant understanding, to judge thy people, and to discerne between good and evill." it belongeth therefore to the soveraigne to bee judge, and to praescribe the rules of discerning good and evill; which rules are lawes; and therefore in him is the legislative power. saul sought the life of david; yet when it was in his power to slay saul, and his servants would have done it, david forbad them, saying ( sam. . ) "god forbid i should do such an act against my lord, the anoynted of god." for obedience of servants st. paul saith, (coll. . ) "servants obey your masters in all things," and, (verse. ) "children obey your parents in all things." there is simple obedience in those that are subject to paternall, or despoticall dominion. again, (math. . , ) "the scribes and pharisees sit in moses chayre and therefore all that they shall bid you observe, that observe and do." there again is simple obedience. and st. paul, (tit. . ) "warn them that they subject themselves to princes, and to those that are in authority, & obey them." this obedience is also simple. lastly, our saviour himselfe acknowledges, that men ought to pay such taxes as are by kings imposed, where he sayes, "give to caesar that which is caesars;" and payed such taxes himselfe. and that the kings word, is sufficient to take any thing from any subject, when there is need; and that the king is judge of that need: for he himselfe, as king of the jewes, commanded his disciples to take the asse, and asses colt to carry him into jerusalem, saying, (mat. . , ) "go into the village over against you, and you shall find a shee asse tyed, and her colt with her, unty them, and bring them to me. and if any man ask you, what you mean by it, say the lord hath need of them: and they will let them go." they will not ask whether his necessity be a sufficient title; nor whether he be judge of that necessity; but acquiesce in the will of the lord. to these places may be added also that of genesis, (gen. . ) "you shall be as gods, knowing good and evill." and verse . "who told thee that thou wast naked? hast thou eaten of the tree, of which i commanded thee thou shouldest not eat?" for the cognisance of judicature of good and evill, being forbidden by the name of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, as a triall of adams obedience; the divell to enflame the ambition of the woman, to whom that fruit already seemed beautifull, told her that by tasting it, they should be as gods, knowing good and evill. whereupon having both eaten, they did indeed take upon them gods office, which is judicature of good and evill; but acquired no new ability to distinguish between them aright. and whereas it is sayd, that having eaten, they saw they were naked; no man hath so interpreted that place, as if they had formerly blind, as saw not their own skins: the meaning is plain, that it was then they first judged their nakednesse (wherein it was gods will to create them) to be uncomely; and by being ashamed, did tacitely censure god himselfe. and thereupon god saith, "hast thou eaten, &c." as if he should say, doest thou that owest me obedience, take upon thee to judge of my commandements? whereby it is cleerly, (though allegorically,) signified, that the commands of them that have the right to command, are not by their subjects to be censured, nor disputed. soveraign power ought in all common-wealths to be absolute so it appeareth plainly, to my understanding, both from reason, and scripture, that the soveraign power, whether placed in one man, as in monarchy, or in one assembly of men, as in popular, and aristocraticall common-wealths, is as great, as possibly men can be imagined to make it. and though of so unlimited a power, men may fancy many evill consequences, yet the consequences of the want of it, which is perpetuall warre of every man against his neighbour, are much worse. the condition of man in this life shall never be without inconveniences; but there happeneth in no common-wealth any great inconvenience, but what proceeds from the subjects disobedience, and breach of those covenants, from which the common-wealth had its being. and whosoever thinking soveraign power too great, will seek to make it lesse; must subject himselfe, to the power, that can limit it; that is to say, to a greater. the greatest objection is, that of the practise; when men ask, where, and when, such power has by subjects been acknowledged. but one may ask them again, when, or where has there been a kingdome long free from sedition and civill warre. in those nations, whose common-wealths have been long-lived, and not been destroyed, but by forraign warre, the subjects never did dispute of the soveraign power. but howsoever, an argument for the practise of men, that have not sifted to the bottom, and with exact reason weighed the causes, and nature of common-wealths, and suffer daily those miseries, that proceed from the ignorance thereof, is invalid. for though in all places of the world, men should lay the foundation of their houses on the sand, it could not thence be inferred, that so it ought to be. the skill of making, and maintaining common-wealths, consisteth in certain rules, as doth arithmetique and geometry; not (as tennis-play) on practise onely: which rules, neither poor men have the leisure, nor men that have had the leisure, have hitherto had the curiosity, or the method to find out. chapter xxi. of the liberty of subjects liberty what liberty, or freedome, signifieth (properly) the absence of opposition; (by opposition, i mean externall impediments of motion;) and may be applyed no lesse to irrational, and inanimate creatures, than to rationall. for whatsoever is so tyed, or environed, as it cannot move, but within a certain space, which space is determined by the opposition of some externall body, we say it hath not liberty to go further. and so of all living creatures, whilest they are imprisoned, or restrained, with walls, or chayns; and of the water whilest it is kept in by banks, or vessels, that otherwise would spread it selfe into a larger space, we use to say, they are not at liberty, to move in such manner, as without those externall impediments they would. but when the impediment of motion, is in the constitution of the thing it selfe, we use not to say, it wants the liberty; but the power to move; as when a stone lyeth still, or a man is fastned to his bed by sicknesse. what it is to be free and according to this proper, and generally received meaning of the word, a free-man, is "he, that in those things, which by his strength and wit he is able to do, is not hindred to doe what he has a will to." but when the words free, and liberty, are applyed to any thing but bodies, they are abused; for that which is not subject to motion, is not subject to impediment: and therefore, when 'tis said (for example) the way is free, no liberty of the way is signified, but of those that walk in it without stop. and when we say a guift is free, there is not meant any liberty of the guift, but of the giver, that was not bound by any law, or covenant to give it. so when we speak freely, it is not the liberty of voice, or pronunciation, but of the man, whom no law hath obliged to speak otherwise then he did. lastly, from the use of the word freewill, no liberty can be inferred to the will, desire, or inclination, but the liberty of the man; which consisteth in this, that he finds no stop, in doing what he has the will, desire, or inclination to doe. feare and liberty consistent feare and liberty are consistent; as when a man throweth his goods into the sea for feare the ship should sink, he doth it neverthelesse very willingly, and may refuse to doe it if he will: it is therefore the action, of one that was free; so a man sometimes pays his debt, only for feare of imprisonment, which because no body hindred him from detaining, was the action of a man at liberty. and generally all actions which men doe in common-wealths, for feare of the law, or actions, which the doers had liberty to omit. liberty and necessity consistent liberty and necessity are consistent: as in the water, that hath not only liberty, but a necessity of descending by the channel: so likewise in the actions which men voluntarily doe; which (because they proceed from their will) proceed from liberty; and yet because every act of mans will, and every desire, and inclination proceedeth from some cause, which causes in a continuall chaine (whose first link in the hand of god the first of all causes) proceed from necessity. so that to him that could see the connexion of those causes, the necessity of all mens voluntary actions, would appeare manifest. and therefore god, that seeth, and disposeth all things, seeth also that the liberty of man in doing what he will, is accompanied with the necessity of doing that which god will, & no more, nor lesse. for though men may do many things, which god does not command, nor is therefore author of them; yet they can have no passion, nor appetite to any thing, of which appetite gods will is not the cause. and did not his will assure the necessity of mans will, and consequently of all that on mans will dependeth, the liberty of men would be a contradiction, and impediment to the omnipotence and liberty of god. and this shall suffice, (as to the matter in hand) of that naturall liberty, which only is properly called liberty. artificiall bonds, or covenants but as men, for the atteyning of peace, and conservation of themselves thereby, have made an artificiall man, which we call a common-wealth; so also have they made artificiall chains, called civill lawes, which they themselves, by mutuall covenants, have fastned at one end, to the lips of that man, or assembly, to whom they have given the soveraigne power; and at the other end to their own ears. these bonds in their own nature but weak, may neverthelesse be made to hold, by the danger, though not by the difficulty of breaking them. liberty of subjects consisteth in liberty from covenants in relation to these bonds only it is, that i am to speak now, of the liberty of subjects. for seeing there is no common-wealth in the world, for the regulating of all the actions, and words of men, (as being a thing impossible:) it followeth necessarily, that in all kinds of actions, by the laws praetermitted, men have the liberty, of doing what their own reasons shall suggest, for the most profitable to themselves. for if wee take liberty in the proper sense, for corporall liberty; that is to say, freedome from chains, and prison, it were very absurd for men to clamor as they doe, for the liberty they so manifestly enjoy. againe, if we take liberty, for an exemption from lawes, it is no lesse absurd, for men to demand as they doe, that liberty, by which all other men may be masters of their lives. and yet as absurd as it is, this is it they demand; not knowing that the lawes are of no power to protect them, without a sword in the hands of a man, or men, to cause those laws to be put in execution. the liberty of a subject, lyeth therefore only in those things, which in regulating their actions, the soveraign hath praetermitted; such as is the liberty to buy, and sell, and otherwise contract with one another; to choose their own aboad, their own diet, their own trade of life, and institute their children as they themselves think fit; & the like. liberty of the subject consistent with unlimited power of the soveraign neverthelesse we are not to understand, that by such liberty, the soveraign power of life, and death, is either abolished, or limited. for it has been already shewn, that nothing the soveraign representative can doe to a subject, on what pretence soever, can properly be called injustice, or injury; because every subject is author of every act the soveraign doth; so that he never wanteth right to any thing, otherwise, than as he himself is the subject of god, and bound thereby to observe the laws of nature. and therefore it may, and doth often happen in common-wealths, that a subject may be put to death, by the command of the soveraign power; and yet neither doe the other wrong: as when jeptha caused his daughter to be sacrificed: in which, and the like cases, he that so dieth, had liberty to doe the action, for which he is neverthelesse, without injury put to death. and the same holdeth also in a soveraign prince, that putteth to death an innocent subject. for though the action be against the law of nature, as being contrary to equitie, (as was the killing of uriah, by david;) yet it was not an injurie to uriah; but to god. not to uriah, because the right to doe what he pleased, was given him by uriah himself; and yet to god, because david was gods subject; and prohibited all iniquitie by the law of nature. which distinction, david himself, when he repented the fact, evidently confirmed, saying, "to thee only have i sinned." in the same manner, the people of athens, when they banished the most potent of their common-wealth for ten years, thought they committed no injustice; and yet they never questioned what crime he had done; but what hurt he would doe: nay they commanded the banishment of they knew not whom; and every citizen bringing his oystershell into the market place, written with the name of him he desired should be banished, without actuall accusing him, sometimes banished an aristides, for his reputation of justice; and sometimes a scurrilous jester, as hyperbolus, to make a jest of it. and yet a man cannot say, the soveraign people of athens wanted right to banish them; or an athenian the libertie to jest, or to be just. the liberty which writers praise, is the liberty of soveraigns; not of private men the libertie, whereof there is so frequent, and honourable mention, in the histories, and philosophy of the antient greeks, and romans, and in the writings, and discourse of those that from them have received all their learning in the politiques, is not the libertie of particular men; but the libertie of the common-wealth: which is the same with that, which every man then should have, if there were no civil laws, nor common-wealth at all. and the effects of it also be the same. for as amongst masterlesse men, there is perpetuall war, of every man against his neighbour; no inheritance, to transmit to the son, nor to expect from the father; no propriety of goods, or lands; no security; but a full and absolute libertie in every particular man: so in states, and common-wealths not dependent on one another, every common-wealth, (not every man) has an absolute libertie, to doe what it shall judge (that is to say, what that man, or assemblie that representeth it, shall judge) most conducing to their benefit. but withall, they live in the condition of a perpetuall war, and upon the confines of battel, with their frontiers armed, and canons planted against their neighbours round about. the athenians, and romanes, were free; that is, free common-wealths: not that any particular men had the libertie to resist their own representative; but that their representative had the libertie to resist, or invade other people. there is written on the turrets of the city of luca in great characters at this day, the word libertas; yet no man can thence inferre, that a particular man has more libertie, or immunitie from the service of the commonwealth there, than in constantinople. whether a common-wealth be monarchicall, or popular, the freedome is still the same. but it is an easy thing, for men to be deceived, by the specious name of libertie; and for want of judgement to distinguish, mistake that for their private inheritance, and birth right, which is the right of the publique only. and when the same errour is confirmed by the authority of men in reputation for their writings in this subject, it is no wonder if it produce sedition, and change of government. in these westerne parts of the world, we are made to receive our opinions concerning the institution, and rights of common-wealths, from aristotle, cicero, and other men, greeks and romanes, that living under popular states, derived those rights, not from the principles of nature, but transcribed them into their books, out of the practice of their own common-wealths, which were popular; as the grammarians describe the rules of language, out of the practise of the time; or the rules of poetry, out of the poems of homer and virgil. and because the athenians were taught, (to keep them from desire of changing their government,) that they were freemen, and all that lived under monarchy were slaves; therefore aristotle puts it down in his politiques,(lib. .cap. ) "in democracy, liberty is to be supposed: for 'tis commonly held, that no man is free in any other government." and as aristotle; so cicero, and other writers have grounded their civill doctrine, on the opinions of the romans, who were taught to hate monarchy, at first, by them that having deposed their soveraign, shared amongst them the soveraignty of rome; and afterwards by their successors. and by reading of these greek, and latine authors, men from their childhood have gotten a habit (under a false shew of liberty,) of favouring tumults, and of licentious controlling the actions of their soveraigns; and again of controlling those controllers, with the effusion of so much blood; as i think i may truly say, there was never any thing so deerly bought, as these western parts have bought the learning of the greek and latine tongues. liberty of the subject how to be measured to come now to the particulars of the true liberty of a subject; that is to say, what are the things, which though commanded by the soveraign, he may neverthelesse, without injustice, refuse to do; we are to consider, what rights we passe away, when we make a common-wealth; or (which is all one,) what liberty we deny our selves, by owning all the actions (without exception) of the man, or assembly we make our soveraign. for in the act of our submission, consisteth both our obligation, and our liberty; which must therefore be inferred by arguments taken from thence; there being no obligation on any man, which ariseth not from some act of his own; for all men equally, are by nature free. and because such arguments, must either be drawn from the expresse words, "i authorise all his actions," or from the intention of him that submitteth himselfe to his power, (which intention is to be understood by the end for which he so submitteth;) the obligation, and liberty of the subject, is to be derived, either from those words, (or others equivalent;) or else from the end of the institution of soveraignty; namely, the peace of the subjects within themselves, and their defence against a common enemy. subjects have liberty to defend their own bodies, even against them that lawfully invade them first therefore, seeing soveraignty by institution, is by covenant of every one to every one; and soveraignty by acquisition, by covenants of the vanquished to the victor, or child to the parent; it is manifest, that every subject has liberty in all those things, the right whereof cannot by covenant be transferred. i have shewn before in the . chapter, that covenants, not to defend a mans own body, are voyd. therefore, are not bound to hurt themselves; if the soveraign command a man (though justly condemned,) to kill, wound, or mayme himselfe; or not to resist those that assault him; or to abstain from the use of food, ayre, medicine, or any other thing, without which he cannot live; yet hath that man the liberty to disobey. if a man be interrogated by the soveraign, or his authority, concerning a crime done by himselfe, he is not bound (without assurance of pardon) to confesse it; because no man (as i have shewn in the same chapter) can be obliged by covenant to accuse himselfe. again, the consent of a subject to soveraign power, is contained in these words, "i authorise, or take upon me, all his actions;" in which there is no restriction at all, of his own former naturall liberty: for by allowing him to kill me, i am not bound to kill my selfe when he commands me. "'tis one thing to say 'kill me, or my fellow, if you please;' another thing to say, 'i will kill my selfe, or my fellow.'" it followeth therefore, that no man is bound by the words themselves, either to kill himselfe, or any other man; and consequently, that the obligation a man may sometimes have, upon the command of the soveraign to execute any dangerous, or dishonourable office, dependeth not on the words of our submission; but on the intention; which is to be understood by the end thereof. when therefore our refusall to obey, frustrates the end for which the soveraignty was ordained; then there is no liberty to refuse: otherwise there is. nor to warfare, unless they voluntarily undertake it upon this ground, a man that is commanded as a souldier to fight against the enemy, though his soveraign have right enough to punish his refusall with death, may neverthelesse in many cases refuse, without injustice; as when he substituteth a sufficient souldier in his place: for in this case he deserteth not the service of the common-wealth. and there is allowance to be made for naturall timorousnesse, not onely to women, (of whom no such dangerous duty is expected,) but also to men of feminine courage. when armies fight, there is on one side, or both, a running away; yet when they do it not out of trechery, but fear, they are not esteemed to do it unjustly, but dishonourably. for the same reason, to avoyd battell, is not injustice, but cowardise. but he that inrowleth himselfe a souldier, or taketh imprest mony, taketh away the excuse of a timorous nature; and is obliged, not onely to go to the battell, but also not to run from it, without his captaines leave. and when the defence of the common-wealth, requireth at once the help of all that are able to bear arms, every one is obliged; because otherwise the institution of the common-wealth, which they have not the purpose, or courage to preserve, was in vain. to resist the sword of the common-wealth, in defence of another man, guilty, or innocent, no man hath liberty; because such liberty, takes away from the soveraign, the means of protecting us; and is therefore destructive of the very essence of government. but in case a great many men together, have already resisted the soveraign power unjustly, or committed some capitall crime, for which every one of them expecteth death, whether have they not the liberty then to joyn together, and assist, and defend one another? certainly they have: for they but defend their lives, which the guilty man may as well do, as the innocent. there was indeed injustice in the first breach of their duty; their bearing of arms subsequent to it, though it be to maintain what they have done, is no new unjust act. and if it be onely to defend their persons, it is not unjust at all. but the offer of pardon taketh from them, to whom it is offered, the plea of self-defence, and maketh their perseverance in assisting, or defending the rest, unlawfull. the greatest liberty of subjects, dependeth on the silence of the law as for other lyberties, they depend on the silence of the law. in cases where the soveraign has prescribed no rule, there the subject hath the liberty to do, or forbeare, according to his own discretion. and therefore such liberty is in some places more, and in some lesse; and in some times more, in other times lesse, according as they that have the soveraignty shall think most convenient. as for example, there was a time, when in england a man might enter in to his own land, (and dispossesse such as wrongfully possessed it) by force. but in after-times, that liberty of forcible entry, was taken away by a statute made (by the king) in parliament. and is some places of the world, men have the liberty of many wives: in other places, such liberty is not allowed. if a subject have a controversie with his soveraigne, of debt, or of right of possession of lands or goods, or concerning any service required at his hands, or concerning any penalty corporall, or pecuniary, grounded on a precedent law; he hath the same liberty to sue for his right, as if it were against a subject; and before such judges, as are appointed by the soveraign. for seeing the soveraign demandeth by force of a former law, and not by vertue of his power; he declareth thereby, that he requireth no more, than shall appear to be due by that law. the sute therefore is not contrary to the will of the soveraign; and consequently the subject hath the liberty to demand the hearing of his cause; and sentence, according to that law. but if he demand, or take any thing by pretence of his power; there lyeth, in that case, no action of law: for all that is done by him in vertue of his power, is done by the authority of every subject, and consequently, he that brings an action against the soveraign, brings it against himselfe. if a monarch, or soveraign assembly, grant a liberty to all, or any of his subjects; which grant standing, he is disabled to provide for their safety, the grant is voyd; unlesse he directly renounce, or transferre the soveraignty to another. for in that he might openly, (if it had been his will,) and in plain termes, have renounced, or transferred it, and did not; it is to be understood it was not his will; but that the grant proceeded from ignorance of the repugnancy between such a liberty and the soveraign power; and therefore the soveraignty is still retayned; and consequently all those powers, which are necessary to the exercising thereof; such as are the power of warre, and peace, of judicature, of appointing officers, and councellours, of levying mony, and the rest named in the th chapter. in what cases subjects absolved of their obedience to their soveraign the obligation of subjects to the soveraign is understood to last as long, and no longer, than the power lasteth, by which he is able to protect them. for the right men have by nature to protect themselves, when none else can protect them, can by no covenant be relinquished. the soveraignty is the soule of the common-wealth; which once departed from the body, the members doe no more receive their motion from it. the end of obedience is protection; which, wheresoever a man seeth it, either in his own, or in anothers sword, nature applyeth his obedience to it, and his endeavour to maintaine it. and though soveraignty, in the intention of them that make it, be immortall; yet is it in its own nature, not only subject to violent death, by forreign war; but also through the ignorance, and passions of men, it hath in it, from the very institution, many seeds of a naturall mortality, by intestine discord. in case of captivity if a subject be taken prisoner in war; or his person, or his means of life be within the guards of the enemy, and hath his life and corporall libertie given him, on condition to be subject to the victor, he hath libertie to accept the condition; and having accepted it, is the subject of him that took him; because he had no other way to preserve himselfe. the case is the same, if he be deteined on the same termes, in a forreign country. but if a man be held in prison, or bonds, or is not trusted with the libertie of his bodie; he cannot be understood to be bound by covenant to subjection; and therefore may, if he can, make his escape by any means whatsoever. in case the soveraign cast off the government from himself and heyrs if a monarch shall relinquish the soveraignty, both for himself, and his heires; his subjects returne to the absolute libertie of nature; because, though nature may declare who are his sons, and who are the nerest of his kin; yet it dependeth on his own will, (as hath been said in the precedent chapter,) who shall be his heyr. if therefore he will have no heyre, there is no soveraignty, nor subjection. the case is the same, if he dye without known kindred, and without declaration of his heyre. for then there can no heire be known, and consequently no subjection be due. in case of banishment if the soveraign banish his subject; during the banishment, he is not subject. but he that is sent on a message, or hath leave to travell, is still subject; but it is, by contract between soveraigns, not by vertue of the covenant of subjection. for whosoever entreth into anothers dominion, is subject to all the lawes thereof; unless he have a privilege by the amity of the soveraigns, or by speciall licence. in case the soveraign render himself subject to another if a monarch subdued by war, render himself subject to the victor; his subjects are delivered from their former obligation, and become obliged to the victor. but if he be held prisoner, or have not the liberty of his own body; he is not understood to have given away the right of soveraigntie; and therefore his subjects are obliged to yield obedience to the magistrates formerly placed, governing not in their own name, but in his. for, his right remaining, the question is only of the administration; that is to say, of the magistrates and officers; which, if he have not means to name, he is supposed to approve those, which he himself had formerly appointed. chapter xxii. of systemes subject, politicall, and private the divers sorts of systemes of people having spoken of the generation, forme, and power of a common-wealth, i am in order to speak next of the parts thereof. and first of systemes, which resemble the similar parts, or muscles of a body naturall. by systemes; i understand any numbers of men joyned in one interest, or one businesse. of which, some are regular, and some irregular. regular are those, where one man, or assembly of men, is constituted representative of the whole number. all other are irregular. of regular, some are absolute, and independent, subject to none but their own representative: such are only common-wealths; of which i have spoken already in the . last preceding chapters. others are dependent; that is to say, subordinate to some soveraign power, to which every one, as also their representative is subject. of systemes subordinate, some are politicall, and some private. politicall (otherwise called bodies politique, and persons in law,) are those, which are made by authority from the soveraign power of the common-wealth. private, are those, which are constituted by subjects amongst themselves, or by authoritie from a stranger. for no authority derived from forraign power, within the dominion of another, is publique there, but private. and of private systemes, some are lawfull; some unlawfull: lawfull, are those which are allowed by the common-wealth: all other are unlawfull. irregular systemes, are those which having no representative, consist only in concourse of people; which if not forbidden by the common-wealth, nor made on evill designe, (such as are conflux of people to markets, or shews, or any other harmelesse end,) are lawfull. but when the intention is evill, or (if the number be considerable) unknown, they are unlawfull. in all bodies politique the power of the representative is limited in bodies politique, the power of the representative is alwaies limited: and that which prescribeth the limits thereof, is the power soveraign. for power unlimited, is absolute soveraignty. and the soveraign, in every commonwealth, is the absolute representative of all the subjects; and therefore no other, can be representative of any part of them, but so far forth, as he shall give leave; and to give leave to a body politique of subjects, to have an absolute representative to all intents and purposes, were to abandon the government of so much of the commonwealth, and to divide the dominion, contrary to their peace and defence, which the soveraign cannot be understood to doe, by any grant, that does not plainly, and directly discharge them of their subjection. for consequences of words, are not the signes of his will, when other consequences are signes of the contrary; but rather signes of errour, and misreckoning; to which all mankind is too prone. the bounds of that power, which is given to the representative of a bodie politique, are to be taken notice of, from two things. one is their writt, or letters from the soveraign: the other is the law of the common-wealth. by letters patents for though in the institution or acquisition of a common-wealth, which is independent, there needs no writing, because the power of the representative has there no other bounds, but such as are set out by the unwritten law of nature; yet in subordinate bodies, there are such diversities of limitation necessary, concerning their businesses, times, and places, as can neither be remembred without letters, nor taken notice of, unlesse such letters be patent, that they may be read to them, and withall sealed, or testified, with the seales, or other permanent signes of the authority soveraign. and the lawes and because such limitation is not alwaies easie, or perhaps possible to be described in writing; the ordinary lawes, common to all subjects, must determine, that the representative may lawfully do, in all cases, where the letters themselves are silent. and therefore when the representative is one man, his unwarranted acts his own onely in a body politique, if the representative be one man, whatsoever he does in the person of the body, which is not warranted in his letters, nor by the lawes, is his own act, and not the act of the body, nor of any other member thereof besides himselfe: because further than his letters, or the lawes limit, he representeth no mans person, but his own. but what he does according to these, is the act of every one: for of the act of the soveraign every one is author, because he is their representative unlimited; and the act of him that recedes not from the letters of the soveraign, is the act of the soveraign, and therefore every member of the body is author of it. when it is an assembly, it is the act of them that assented onely but if the representative be an assembly, whatsoever that assembly shall decree, not warranted by their letters, or the lawes, is the act of the assembly, or body politique, and the act of every one by whose vote the decree was made; but not the act of any man that being present voted to the contrary; nor of any man absent, unlesse he voted it by procuration. it is the act of the assembly, because voted by the major part; and if it be a crime, the assembly may be punished, as farre-forth as it is capable, as by dissolution, or forfeiture of their letters (which is to such artificiall, and fictitious bodies, capitall,) or (if the assembly have a common stock, wherein none of the innocent members have propriety,) by pecuniary mulct. for from corporall penalties nature hath exempted all bodies politique. but they that gave not their vote, are therefore innocent, because the assembly cannot represent any man in things unwarranted by their letters, and consequently are not involved in their votes. when the representative is one man, if he borrow mony, or owe it, by contract; he is lyable onely, the members not if the person of the body politique being in one man, borrow mony of a stranger, that is, of one that is not of the same body, (for no letters need limit borrowing, seeing it is left to mens own inclinations to limit lending) the debt is the representatives. for if he should have authority from his letters, to make the members pay what he borroweth, he should have by consequence the soveraignty of them; and therefore the grant were either voyd, as proceeding from errour, commonly incident to humane nature, and an unsufficient signe of the will of the granter; or if it be avowed by him, then is the representer soveraign, and falleth not under the present question, which is onely of bodies subordinate. no member therefore is obliged to pay the debt so borrowed, but the representative himselfe: because he that lendeth it, being a stranger to the letters, and to the qualification of the body, understandeth those onely for his debtors, that are engaged; and seeing the representer can ingage himselfe, and none else, has him onely for debtor; who must therefore pay him, out of the common stock (if there be any), or (if there be none) out of his own estate. if he come into debt by contract, or mulct, the case is the same. when it is an assembly, they onely are liable that have assented but when the representative is an assembly, and the debt to a stranger; all they, and onely they are responsible for the debt, that gave their votes to the borrowing of it, or to the contract that made it due, or to the fact for which the mulct was imposed; because every one of those in voting did engage himselfe for the payment: for he that is author of the borrowing, is obliged to the payment, even of the whole debt, though when payd by any one, he be discharged. if the debt be to one of the assembly, the body onely is obliged but if the debt be to one of the assembly, the assembly onely is obliged to the payment, out of their common stock (if they have any:) for having liberty of vote, if he vote the mony, shall be borrowed, he votes it shall be payd; if he vote it shall not be borrowed, or be absent, yet because in lending, he voteth the borrowing, he contradicteth his former vote, and is obliged by the later, and becomes both borrower and lender, and consequently cannot demand payment from any particular man, but from the common treasure onely; which fayling he hath no remedy, nor complaint, but against himselfe, that being privy to the acts of the assembly, and their means to pay, and not being enforced, did neverthelesse through his own folly lend his mony. protestation against the decrees of bodies politique sometimes lawful; but against soveraign power never it is manifest by this, that in bodies politique subordinate, and subject to a soveraign power, it is sometimes not onely lawfull, but expedient, for a particular man to make open protestation against the decrees of the representative assembly, and cause their dissent to be registred, or to take witnesse of it; because otherwise they may be obliged to pay debts contracted, and be responsible for crimes committed by other men: but in a soveraign assembly, that liberty is taken away, both because he that protesteth there, denies their soveraignty; and also because whatsoever is commanded by the soveraign power, is as to the subject (though not so alwayes in the sight of god) justified by the command; for of such command every subject is the author. bodies politique for government of a province, colony, or town the variety of bodies politique, is almost infinite; for they are not onely distinguished by the severall affaires, for which they are constituted, wherein there is an unspeakable diversitie; but also by the times, places, and numbers, subject to many limitations. and as to their affaires, some are ordained for government; as first, the government of a province may be committed to an assembly of men, wherein all resolutions shall depend on the votes of the major part; and then this assembly is a body politique, and their power limited by commission. this word province signifies a charge, or care of businesse, which he whose businesse it is, committeth to another man, to be administred for, and under him; and therefore when in one common-wealth there be divers countries, that have their lawes distinct one from another, or are farre distant in place, the administration of the government being committed to divers persons, those countries where the soveraign is not resident, but governs by commission, are called provinces. but of the government of a province, by an assembly residing in the province it selfe, there be few examples. the romans who had the soveraignty of many provinces; yet governed them alwaies by presidents, and praetors; and not by assemblies, as they governed the city of rome, and territories adjacent. in like manner, when there were colonies sent from england, to plant virginia, and sommer-ilands; though the government of them here, were committed to assemblies in london, yet did those assemblies never commit the government under them to any assembly there; but did to each plantation send one governour; for though every man, where he can be present by nature, desires to participate of government; yet where they cannot be present, they are by nature also enclined, to commit the government of their common interest rather to a monarchicall, then a popular form of government: which is also evident in those men that have great private estates; who when they are unwilling to take the paines of administring the businesse that belongs to them, choose rather to trust one servant, than a assembly either of their friends or servants. but howsoever it be in fact, yet we may suppose the government of a province, or colony committed to an assembly: and when it is, that which in this place i have to say, is this; that whatsoever debt is by that assembly contracted; or whatsoever unlawfull act is decreed, is the act onely of those that assented, and not of any that dissented, or were absent, for the reasons before alledged. also that an assembly residing out of the bounds of that colony whereof they have the government, cannot execute any power over the persons, or goods of any of the colonie, to seize on them for debt, or other duty, in any place without the colony it selfe, as having no jurisdiction, nor authoritie elsewhere, but are left to the remedie, which the law of the place alloweth them. and though the assembly have right, to impose a mulct upon any of their members, that shall break the lawes they make; yet out of the colonie it selfe, they have no right to execute the same. and that which is said here, of the rights of an assembly, for the government of a province, or a colony, is appliable also to an assembly for the government of a town, or university, or a college, or a church, or for any other government over the persons of men. and generally, in all bodies politique, if any particular member conceive himself injured by the body it self, the cognisance of his cause belongeth to the soveraign, and those the soveraign hath ordained for judges in such causes, or shall ordaine for that particular cause; and not to the body it self. for the whole body is in this case his fellow subject, which in a soveraign assembly, is otherwise: for there, if the soveraign be not judge, though in his own cause, there can be no judge at all. bodies politique for ordering of trade in a bodie politique, for the well ordering of forraigne traffique, the most commodious representative is an assembly of all the members; that is to say, such a one, as every one that adventureth his mony, may be present at all the deliberations, and resolutions of the body, if they will themselves. for proof whereof, we are to consider the end, for which men that are merchants, and may buy and sell, export, and import their merchandise, according to their own discretions, doe neverthelesse bind themselves up in one corporation. it is true, there be few merchants, that with the merchandise they buy at home, can fraight a ship, to export it; or with that they buy abroad, to bring it home; and have therefore need to joyn together in one society; where every man may either participate of the gaine, according to the proportion of his adventure; or take his own; and sell what he transports, or imports, at such prices as he thinks fit. but this is no body politique, there being no common representative to oblige them to any other law, than that which is common to all other subjects. the end of their incorporating, is to make their gaine the greater; which is done two wayes; by sole buying, and sole selling, both at home, and abroad. so that to grant to a company of merchants to be a corporation, or body politique, is to grant them a double monopoly, whereof one is to be sole buyers; another to be sole sellers. for when there is a company incorporate for any particular forraign country, they only export the commodities vendible in that country; which is sole buying at home, and sole selling abroad. for at home there is but one buyer, and abroad but one that selleth: both which is gainfull to the merchant, because thereby they buy at home at lower, and sell abroad at higher rates: and abroad there is but one buyer of forraign merchandise, and but one that sels them at home; both which againe are gainfull to the adventurers. of this double monopoly one part is disadvantageous to the people at home, the other to forraigners. for at home by their sole exportation they set what price they please on the husbandry and handy-works of the people; and by the sole importation, what price they please on all forraign commodities the people have need of; both which are ill for the people. on the contrary, by the sole selling of the native commodities abroad, and sole buying the forraign commodities upon the place, they raise the price of those, and abate the price of these, to the disadvantage of the forraigner: for where but one selleth, the merchandise is the dearer; and where but one buyeth the cheaper: such corporations therefore are no other then monopolies; though they would be very profitable for a common-wealth, if being bound up into one body in forraigne markets they were at liberty at home, every man to buy, and sell at what price he could. the end then of these bodies of merchants, being not a common benefit to the whole body, (which have in this case no common stock, but what is deducted out of the particular adventures, for building, buying, victualling and manning of ships,) but the particular gaine of every adventurer, it is reason that every one be acquainted with the employment of his own; that is, that every one be of the assembly, that shall have the power to order the same; and be acquainted with their accounts. and therefore the representative of such a body must be an assembly, where every member of the body may be present at the consultations, if he will. if a body politique of merchants, contract a debt to a stranger by the act of their representative assembly, every member is lyable by himself for the whole. for a stranger can take no notice of their private lawes, but considereth them as so many particular men, obliged every one to the whole payment, till payment made by one dischargeth all the rest: but if the debt be to one of the company, the creditor is debter for the whole to himself, and cannot therefore demand his debt, but only from the common stock, if there be any. if the common-wealth impose a tax upon the body, it is understood to be layd upon every member proportionably to his particular adventure in the company. for there is in this case no other common stock, but what is made of their particular adventures. if a mulct be layd upon the body for some unlawfull act, they only are lyable by whose votes the act was decreed, or by whose assistance it was executed; for in none of the rest is there any other crime but being of the body; which if a crime, (because the body was ordeyned by the authority of the common-wealth,) is not his. if one of the members be indebted to the body, he may be sued by the body; but his goods cannot be taken, nor his person imprisoned by the authority of the body; but only by authority of the common-wealth: for if they can doe it by their own authority, they can by their own authority give judgement that the debt is due, which is as much as to be judge in their own cause. a bodie politique for counsel to be give to the soveraign these bodies made for the government of men, or of traffique, be either perpetuall, or for a time prescribed by writing. but there be bodies also whose times are limited, and that only by the nature of their businesse. for example, if a soveraign monarch, or a soveraign assembly, shall think fit to give command to the towns, and other severall parts of their territory, to send to him their deputies, to enforme him of the condition, and necessities of the subjects, or to advise with him for the making of good lawes, or for any other cause, as with one person representing the whole country, such deputies, having a place and time of meeting assigned them, are there, and at that time, a body politique, representing every subject of that dominion; but it is onely for such matters as shall be propounded unto them by that man, or assembly, that by the soveraign authority sent for them; and when it shall be declared that nothing more shall be propounded, nor debated by them, the body is dissolved. for if they were the absolute representative of the people, then were it the soveraign assembly; and so there would be two soveraign assemblies, or two soveraigns, over the same people; which cannot consist with their peace. and therefore where there is once a soveraignty, there can be no absolute representation of the people, but by it. and for the limits of how farre such a body shall represent the whole people, they are set forth in the writing by which they were sent for. for the people cannot choose their deputies to other intent, than is in the writing directed to them from their soveraign expressed. a regular private body, lawfull, as a family private bodies regular, and lawfull, are those that are constituted without letters, or other written authority, saving the lawes common to all other subjects. and because they be united in one person representative, they are held for regular; such as are all families, in which the father, or master ordereth the whole family. for he obligeth his children, and servants, as farre as the law permitteth, though not further, because none of them are bound to obedience in those actions, which the law hath forbidden to be done. in all other actions, during the time they are under domestique government, they are subject to their fathers, and masters, as to their immediate soveraigns. for the father, and master being before the institution of common-wealth, absolute soveraigns in their own families, they lose afterward no more of their authority, than the law of the common-wealth taketh from them. private bodies regular, but unlawfull private bodies regular, but unlawfull, are those that unite themselves into one person representative, without any publique authority at all; such as are the corporations of beggars, theeves and gipsies, the better to order their trade of begging, and stealing; and the corporations of men, that by authority from any forraign person, unite themselves in anothers dominion, for easier propagation of doctrines, and for making a party, against the power of the common-wealth. systemes irregular, such as are private leagues irregular systemes, in their nature, but leagues, or sometimes meer concourse of people, without union to any particular designe, not by obligation of one to another, but proceeding onely from a similitude of wills and inclinations, become lawfull, or unlawfull, according to the lawfulnesse, or unlawfulnesse of every particular mans design therein: and his designe is to be understood by the occasion. the leagues of subjects, (because leagues are commonly made for mutuall defence,) are in a common-wealth (which is no more than a league of all the subjects together) for the most part unnecessary, and savour of unlawfull designe; and are for that cause unlawfull, and go commonly by the name of factions, or conspiracies. for a league being a connexion of men by covenants, if there be no power given to any one man or assembly, (as in the condition of meer nature) to compell them to performance, is so long onely valid, as there ariseth no just cause of distrust: and therefore leagues between common-wealths, over whom there is no humane power established, to keep them all in awe, are not onely lawfull, but also profitable for the time they last. but leagues of the subjects of one and the same common-wealth, where every one may obtain his right by means of the soveraign power, are unnecessary to the maintaining of peace and justice, and (in case the designe of them be evill, or unknown to the common-wealth) unlawfull. for all uniting of strength by private men, is, if for evill intent, unjust; if for intent unknown, dangerous to the publique, and unjustly concealed. secret cabals if the soveraign power be in a great assembly, and a number of men, part of the assembly, without authority, consult a part, to contrive the guidance of the rest; this is a faction, or conspiracy unlawfull, as being a fraudulent seducing of the assembly for their particular interest. but if he, whose private interest is to be debated, and judged in the assembly, make as many friends as he can; in him it is no injustice; because in this case he is no part of the assembly. and though he hire such friends with mony, (unlesse there be an expresse law against it,) yet it is not injustice. for sometimes, (as mens manners are,) justice cannot be had without mony; and every man may think his own cause just, till it be heard, and judged. feuds of private families in all common-wealths, if a private man entertain more servants, than the government of his estate, and lawfull employment he has for them requires, it is faction, and unlawfull. for having the protection of the common-wealth, he needeth not the defence of private force. and whereas in nations not throughly civilized, severall numerous families have lived in continuall hostility, and invaded one another with private force; yet it is evident enough, that they have done unjustly; or else that they had no common-wealth. factions for government and as factions for kindred, so also factions for government of religion, as of papists, protestants, &c. or of state, as patricians, and plebeians of old time in rome, and of aristocraticalls and democraticalls of old time in greece, are unjust, as being contrary to the peace and safety of the people, and a taking of the sword out of the hand of the soveraign. concourse of people, is an irregular systeme, the lawfulnesse, or unlawfulnesse, whereof dependeth on the occasion, and on the number of them that are assembled. if the occasion be lawfull, and manifest, the concourse is lawfull; as the usuall meeting of men at church, or at a publique shew, in usuall numbers: for if the numbers be extraordinarily great, the occasion is not evident; and consequently he that cannot render a particular and good account of his being amongst them, is to be judged conscious of an unlawfull, and tumultuous designe. it may be lawfull for a thousand men, to joyn in a petition to be delivered to a judge, or magistrate; yet if a thousand men come to present it, it is a tumultuous assembly; because there needs but one or two for that purpose. but in such cases as these, it is not a set number that makes the assembly unlawfull, but such a number, as the present officers are not able to suppresse, and bring to justice. when an unusuall number of men, assemble against a man whom they accuse; the assembly is an unlawfull tumult; because they may deliver their accusation to the magistrate by a few, or by one man. such was the case of st. paul at ephesus; where demetrius, and a great number of other men, brought two of pauls companions before the magistrate, saying with one voyce, "great is diana of the ephesians;" which was their way of demanding justice against them for teaching the people such doctrine, as was against their religion, and trade. the occasion here, considering the lawes of that people, was just; yet was their assembly judged unlawfull, and the magistrate reprehended them for it, in these words,(acts . ) "if demetrius and the other work-men can accuse any man, of any thing, there be pleas, and deputies, let them accuse one another. and if you have any other thing to demand, your case may be judged in an assembly lawfully called. for we are in danger to be accused for this dayes sedition, because, there is no cause by which any man can render any reason of this concourse of people." where he calleth an assembly, whereof men can give no just account, a sedition, and such as they could not answer for. and this is all i shall say concerning systemes, and assemblyes of people, which may be compared (as i said,) to the similar parts of mans body; such as be lawfull, to the muscles; such as are unlawfull, to wens, biles, and apostemes, engendred by the unnaturall conflux of evill humours. chapter xxiii. of the publique ministers of soveraign power in the last chapter i have spoken of the similar parts of a common-wealth; in this i shall speak of the parts organicall, which are publique ministers. publique minister who a publique minister, is he, that by the soveraign, (whether a monarch, or an assembly,) is employed in any affaires, with authority to represent in that employment, the person of the common-wealth. and whereas every man, or assembly that hath soveraignty, representeth two persons, or (as the more common phrase is) has two capacities, one naturall, and another politique, (as a monarch, hath the person not onely of the common-wealth, but also of a man; and a soveraign assembly hath the person not onely of the common-wealth, but also of the assembly); they that be servants to them in their naturall capacity, are not publique ministers; but those onely that serve them in the administration of the publique businesse. and therefore neither ushers, nor sergeants, nor other officers that waite on the assembly, for no other purpose, but for the commodity of the men assembled, in an aristocracy, or democracy; nor stewards, chamberlains, cofferers, or any other officers of the houshold of a monarch, are publique ministers in a monarchy. ministers for the generall administration of publique ministers, some have charge committed to them of a general administration, either of the whole dominion, or of a part thereof. of the whole, as to a protector, or regent, may bee committed by the predecessor of an infant king, during his minority, the whole administration of his kingdome. in which case, every subject is so far obliged to obedience, as the ordinances he shall make, and the commands he shall give be in the kings name, and not inconsistent with his soveraigne power. of a part, or province; as when either a monarch, or a soveraign assembly, shall give the generall charge thereof to a governour, lieutenant, praefect, or vice-roy: and in this case also, every one of that province, is obliged to all he shall doe in the name of the soveraign, and that not incompatible with the soveraigns right. for such protectors, vice-roys, and governours, have no other right, but what depends on the soveraigns will; and no commission that can be given them, can be interpreted for a declaration of the will to transferre the soveraignty, without expresse and perspicuous words to that purpose. and this kind of publique ministers resembleth the nerves, and tendons that move the severall limbs of a body naturall. for speciall administration, as for oeconomy others have speciall administration; that is to say, charges of some speciall businesse, either at home, or abroad: as at home, first, for the oeconomy of a common-wealth, they that have authority concerning the treasure, as tributes, impositions, rents, fines, or whatsoever publique revenue, to collect, receive, issue, or take the accounts thereof, are publique ministers: ministers, because they serve the person representative, and can doe nothing against his command, nor without his authority: publique, because they serve him in his politicall capacity. secondly, they that have authority concerning the militia; to have the custody of armes, forts, ports; to levy, pay, or conduct souldiers; or to provide for any necessary thing for the use of war, either by land or sea, are publique ministers. but a souldier without command, though he fight for the common-wealth, does not therefore represent the person of it; because there is none to represent it to. for every one that hath command, represents it to them only whom he commandeth. for instruction of the people they also that have authority to teach, or to enable others to teach the people their duty to the soveraign power, and instruct them in the knowledge of what is just, and unjust, thereby to render them more apt to live in godlinesse, and in peace among themselves, and resist the publique enemy, are publique ministers: ministers, in that they doe it not by their own authority, but by anothers; and publique, because they doe it (or should doe it) by no authority, but that of the soveraign. the monarch, or the soveraign assembly only hath immediate authority from god, to teach and instruct the people; and no man but the soveraign, receiveth his power dei gratia simply; that is to say, from the favour of none but god: all other, receive theirs from the favour and providence of god, and their soveraigns; as in a monarchy dei gratia & regis; or dei providentia & voluntate regis. for judicature they also to whom jurisdiction is given, are publique ministers. for in their seats of justice they represent the person of the soveraign; and their sentence, is his sentence; for (as hath been before declared) all judicature is essentially annexed to the soveraignty; and therefore all other judges are but ministers of him, or them that have the soveraign power. and as controversies are of two sorts, namely of fact, and of law; so are judgements, some of fact, some of law: and consequently in the same controversie, there may be two judges, one of fact, another of law. and in both these controversies, there may arise a controversie between the party judged, and the judge; which because they be both subjects to the soveraign, ought in equity to be judged by men agreed on by consent of both; for no man can be judge in his own cause. but the soveraign is already agreed on for judge by them both, and is therefore either to heare the cause, and determine it himself, or appoint for judge such as they shall both agree on. and this agreement is then understood to be made between them divers wayes; as first, if the defendant be allowed to except against such of his judges, whose interest maketh him suspect them, (for as to the complaynant he hath already chosen his own judge,) those which he excepteth not against, are judges he himself agrees on. secondly, if he appeale to any other judge, he can appeale no further; for his appeale is his choice. thirdly, if he appeale to the soveraign himself, and he by himself, or by delegates which the parties shall agree on, give sentence; that sentence is finall: for the defendant is judged by his own judges, that is to say, by himself. these properties of just and rationall judicature considered, i cannot forbeare to observe the excellent constitution of the courts of justice, established both for common, and also for publique pleas in england. by common pleas, i meane those, where both the complaynant and defendant are subjects: and by publique, (which are also called pleas of the crown) those, where the complaynant is the soveraign. for whereas there were two orders of men, whereof one was lords, the other commons; the lords had this priviledge, to have for judges in all capitall crimes, none but lords; and of them, as many as would be present; which being ever acknowledged as a priviledge of favour, their judges were none but such as they had themselves desired. and in all controversies, every subject (as also in civill controversies the lords) had for judges, men of the country where the matter in controversie lay; against which he might make his exceptions, till at last twelve men without exception being agreed on, they were judged by those twelve. so that having his own judges, there could be nothing alledged by the party, why the sentence should not be finall, these publique persons, with authority from the soveraign power, either to instruct, or judge the people, are such members of the common-wealth, as may fitly be compared to the organs of voice in a body naturall. for execution publique ministers are also all those, that have authority from the soveraign, to procure the execution of judgements given; to publish the soveraigns commands; to suppresse tumults; to apprehend, and imprison malefactors; and other acts tending to the conservation of the peace. for every act they doe by such authority, is the act of the common-wealth; and their service, answerable to that of the hands, in a bodie naturall. publique ministers abroad, are those that represent the person of their own soveraign, to forraign states. such are ambassadors, messengers, agents, and heralds, sent by publique authoritie, and on publique businesse. but such as are sent by authoritie only of some private partie of a troubled state, though they be received, are neither publique, nor private ministers of the common-wealth; because none of their actions have the common-wealth for author. likewise, an ambassador sent from a prince, to congratulate, condole, or to assist at a solemnity, though authority be publique; yet because the businesse is private, and belonging to him in his naturall capacity; is a private person. also if a man be sent into another country, secretly to explore their counsels, and strength; though both the authority, and the businesse be publique; yet because there is none to take notice of any person in him, but his own; he is but a private minister; but yet a minister of the common-wealth; and may be compared to an eye in the body naturall. and those that are appointed to receive the petitions or other informations of the people, and are as it were the publique eare, are publique ministers, and represent their soveraign in that office. counsellers without other employment then to advise are not publique ministers neither a counsellor, nor a councell of state, if we consider it with no authority of judicature or command, but only of giving advice to the soveraign when it is required, or of offering it when it is not required, is a publique person. for the advice is addressed to the soveraign only, whose person cannot in his own presence, be represented to him, by another. but a body of counsellors, are never without some other authority, either of judicature, or of immediate administration: as in a monarchy, they represent the monarch, in delivering his commands to the publique ministers: in a democracy, the councell, or senate propounds the result of their deliberations to the people, as a councell; but when they appoint judges, or heare causes, or give audience to ambassadors, it is in the quality of a minister of the people: and in an aristocracy the councell of state is the soveraign assembly it self; and gives counsell to none but themselves. chapter xxiv. of the nutrition, and procreation of a common-wealth the nourishment of a common-wealth consisteth in the commodities of sea and land the nutrition of a common-wealth consisteth, in the plenty, and distribution of materials conducing to life: in concoction, or preparation; and (when concocted) in the conveyance of it, by convenient conduits, to the publique use. as for the plenty of matter, it is a thing limited by nature, to those commodities, which from (the two breasts of our common mother) land, and sea, god usually either freely giveth, or for labour selleth to man-kind. for the matter of this nutriment, consisting in animals, vegetals, and minerals, god hath freely layd them before us, in or neer to the face of the earth; so as there needeth no more but the labour, and industry of receiving them. insomuch as plenty dependeth (next to gods favour) meerly on the labour and industry of men. this matter, commonly called commodities, is partly native, and partly forraign: native, that which is to be had within the territory of the common-wealth; forraign, that which is imported from without. and because there is no territory under the dominion of one common-wealth, (except it be of very vast extent,) that produceth all things needfull for the maintenance, and motion of the whole body; and few that produce not something more than necessary; the superfluous commodities to be had within, become no more superfluous, but supply these wants at home, by importation of that which may be had abroad, either by exchange, or by just warre, or by labour: for a mans labour also, is a commodity exchangeable for benefit, as well as any other thing: and there have been common-wealths that having no more territory, than hath served them for habitation, have neverthelesse, not onely maintained, but also encreased their power, partly by the labour of trading from one place to another, and partly by selling the manifactures, whereof the materials were brought in from other places. and the right of distribution of them the distribution of the materials of this nourishment, is the constitution of mine, and thine, and his, that is to say, in one word propriety; and belongeth in all kinds of common-wealth to the soveraign power. for where there is no common-wealth, there is, (as hath been already shewn) a perpetuall warre of every man against his neighbour; and therefore every thing is his that getteth it, and keepeth it by force; which is neither propriety nor community; but uncertainty. which is so evident, that even cicero, (a passionate defender of liberty,) in a publique pleading, attributeth all propriety to the law civil, "let the civill law," saith he, "be once abandoned, or but negligently guarded, (not to say oppressed,) and there is nothing, that any man can be sure to receive from his ancestor, or leave to his children." and again; "take away the civill law, and no man knows what is his own, and what another mans." seeing therefore the introduction of propriety is an effect of common-wealth; which can do nothing but by the person that represents it, it is the act onely of the soveraign; and consisteth in the lawes, which none can make that have not the soveraign power. and this they well knew of old, who called that nomos, (that is to say, distribution,) which we call law; and defined justice, by distributing to every man his own. all private estates of land proceed originally from the arbitrary distribution of the soveraign in this distribution, the first law, is for division of the land it selfe: wherein the soveraign assigneth to every man a portion, according as he, and not according as any subject, or any number of them, shall judge agreeable to equity, and the common good. the children of israel, were a common-wealth in the wildernesse; but wanted the commodities of the earth, till they were masters of the land of promise; which afterward was divided amongst them, not by their own discretion, but by the discretion of eleazar the priest, and joshua their generall: who when there were twelve tribes, making them thirteen by subdivision of the tribe of joseph; made neverthelesse but twelve portions of the land; and ordained for the tribe of levi no land; but assigned them the tenth part of the whole fruits; which division was therefore arbitrary. and though a people comming into possession of a land by warre, do not alwaies exterminate the antient inhabitants, (as did the jewes,) but leave to many, or most, or all of them their estates; yet it is manifest they hold them afterwards, as of the victors distribution; as the people of england held all theirs of william the conquerour. propriety of a subject excludes not the dominion of the soveraign, but onely of another subject from whence we may collect, that the propriety which a subject hath in his lands, consisteth in a right to exclude all other subjects from the use of them; and not to exclude their soveraign, be it an assembly, or a monarch. for seeing the soveraign, that is to say, the common-wealth (whose person he representeth,) is understood to do nothing but in order to the common peace and security, this distribution of lands, is to be understood as done in order to the same: and consequently, whatsoever distribution he shall make in prejudice thereof, is contrary to the will of every subject, that committed his peace, and safety to his discretion, and conscience; and therefore by the will of every one of them, is to be reputed voyd. it is true, that a soveraign monarch, or the greater part of a soveraign assembly, may ordain the doing of many things in pursuit of their passions, contrary to their own consciences, which is a breach of trust, and of the law of nature; but this is not enough to authorise any subject, either to make warre upon, or so much as to accuse of injustice, or any way to speak evill of their soveraign; because they have authorised all his actions, and in bestowing the soveraign power, made them their own. but in what cases the commands of soveraigns are contrary to equity, and the law of nature, is to be considered hereafter in another place. the publique is not to be dieted in the distribution of land, the common-wealth it selfe, may be conceived to have a portion, and possesse, and improve the same by their representative; and that such portion may be made sufficient, to susteine the whole expence to the common peace, and defence necessarily required: which were very true, if there could be any representative conceived free from humane passions, and infirmities. but the nature of men being as it is, the setting forth of publique land, or of any certaine revenue for the common-wealth, is in vaine; and tendeth to the dissolution of government, and to the condition of meere nature, and war, assoon as ever the soveraign power falleth into the hands of a monarch, or of an assembly, that are either too negligent of mony, or too hazardous in engaging the publique stock, into a long, or costly war. common-wealths can endure no diet: for seeing their expence is not limited by their own appetite, but by externall accidents, and the appetites of their neighbours, the publique riches cannot be limited by other limits, than those which the emergent occasions shall require. and whereas in england, there were by the conquerour, divers lands reserved to his own use, (besides forrests, and chases, either for his recreation, or for preservation of woods,) and divers services reserved on the land he gave his subjects; yet it seems they were not reserved for his maintenance in his publique, but in his naturall capacity: for he, and his successors did for all that, lay arbitrary taxes on all subjects land, when they judged it necessary. or if those publique lands, and services, were ordained as a sufficient maintenance of the common-wealth, it was contrary to the scope of the institution; being (as it appeared by those ensuing taxes) insufficient, and (as it appeares by the late revenue of the crown) subject to alienation, and diminution. it is therefore in vaine, to assign a portion to the common-wealth; which may sell, or give it away; and does sell, and give it away when tis done by their representative. the places and matter of traffique depend, as their distribution, on the soveraign as the distribution of lands at home; so also to assigne in what places, and for what commodities, the subject shall traffique abroad, belongeth to the soveraign. for if it did belong to private persons to use their own discretion therein, some of them would bee drawn for gaine, both to furnish the enemy with means to hurt the common-wealth, and hurt it themselves, by importing such things, as pleasing mens appetites, be neverthelesse noxious, or at least unprofitable to them. and therefore it belongeth to the common-wealth, (that is, to the soveraign only,) to approve, or disapprove both of the places, and matter of forraign traffique. the laws of transferring property belong also to the soveraign further, seeing it is not enough to the sustentation of a common-wealth, that every man have a propriety in a portion of land, or in some few commodities, or a naturall property in some usefull art, and there is no art in the world, but is necessary either for the being, or well being almost of every particular man; it is necessary, that men distribute that which they can spare, and transferre their propriety therein, mutually one to another, by exchange, and mutuall contract. and therefore it belongeth to the common-wealth, (that is to say, to the soveraign,) to appoint in what manner, all kinds of contract between subjects, (as buying, selling, exchanging, borrowing, lending, letting, and taking to hire,) are to bee made; and by what words, and signes they shall be understood for valid. and for the matter, and distribution of the nourishment, to the severall members of the common-wealth, thus much (considering the modell of the whole worke) is sufficient. mony the bloud of a common-wealth by concoction, i understand the reducing of all commodities, which are not presently consumed, but reserved for nourishment in time to come, to some thing of equal value, and withall so portably, as not to hinder the motion of men from place to place; to the end a man may have in what place soever, such nourishment as the place affordeth. and this is nothing else but gold, and silver, and mony. for gold and silver, being (as it happens) almost in all countries of the world highly valued, is a commodious measure for the value of all things else between nations; and mony (of what matter soever coyned by the soveraign of a common-wealth,) is a sufficient measure of the value of all things else, between the subjects of that common-wealth. by the means of which measures, all commodities, moveable, and immoveable, are made to accompany a man, to all places of his resort, within and without the place of his ordinary residence; and the same passeth from man to man, within the common-wealth; and goes round about, nourishing (as it passeth) every part thereof; in so much as this concoction, is as it were the sanguification of the common-wealth: for naturall bloud is in like manner made of the fruits of the earth; and circulating, nourisheth by the way, every member of the body of man. and because silver and gold, have their value from the matter it self; they have first this priviledge, that the value of them cannot be altered by the power of one, nor of a few common-wealths; as being a common measure of the commodities of all places. but base mony, may easily be enhanced, or abased. secondly, they have the priviledge to make common-wealths, move, and stretch out their armes, when need is, into forraign countries; and supply, not only private subjects that travell, but also whole armies with provision. but that coyne, which is not considerable for the matter, but for the stamp of the place, being unable to endure change of ayr, hath its effect at home only; where also it is subject to the change of laws, and thereby to have the value diminished, to the prejudice many times of those that have it. the conduits and way of mony to the publique use the conduits, and wayes by which it is conveyed to the publique use, are of two sorts; one, that conveyeth it to the publique coffers; the other, that issueth the same out againe for publique payments. of the first sort, are collectors, receivers, and treasurers; of the second are the treasurers againe, and the officers appointed for payment of severall publique or private ministers. and in this also, the artificiall man maintains his resemblance with the naturall; whose veins receiving the bloud from the severall parts of the body, carry it to the heart; where being made vitall, the heart by the arteries sends it out again, to enliven, and enable for motion all the members of the same. the children of a common-wealth colonies the procreation, or children of a common-wealth, are those we call plantations, or colonies; which are numbers of men sent out from the common-wealth, under a conductor, or governour, to inhabit a forraign country, either formerly voyd of inhabitants, or made voyd then, by warre. and when a colony is setled, they are either a common-wealth of themselves, discharged of their subjection to their soveraign that sent them, (as hath been done by many common-wealths of antient time,) in which case the common-wealth from which they went was called their metropolis, or mother, and requires no more of them, then fathers require of the children, whom they emancipate, and make free from their domestique government, which is honour, and friendship; or else they remain united to their metropolis, as were the colonies of the people of rome; and then they are no common-wealths themselves, but provinces, and parts of the common-wealth that sent them. so that the right of colonies (saving honour, and league with their metropolis,) dependeth wholly on their licence, or letters, by which their soveraign authorised them to plant. chapter xxv. of counsell counsell what how fallacious it is to judge of the nature of things, by the ordinary and inconstant use of words, appeareth in nothing more, than in the confusion of counsels, and commands, arising from the imperative manner of speaking in them both, and in many other occasions besides. for the words "doe this," are the words not onely of him that commandeth; but also of him that giveth counsell; and of him that exhorteth; and yet there are but few, that see not, that these are very different things; or that cannot distinguish between them, when they perceive who it is that speaketh, and to whom the speech is directed, and upon what occasion. but finding those phrases in mens writings, and being not able, or not willing to enter into a consideration of the circumstances, they mistake sometimes the precepts of counsellours, for the precepts of them that command; and sometimes the contrary; according as it best agreeth with the conclusions they would inferre, or the actions they approve. to avoyd which mistakes, and render to those termes of commanding, counselling, and exhorting, their proper and distinct significations, i define them thus. differences between command and counsell command is, where a man saith, "doe this," or "doe this not," without expecting other reason than the will of him that sayes it. from this it followeth manifestly, that he that commandeth, pretendeth thereby his own benefit: for the reason of his command is his own will onely, and the proper object of every mans will, is some good to himselfe. counsell, is where a man saith, "doe" or "doe not this," and deduceth his own reasons from the benefit that arriveth by it to him to whom he saith it. and from this it is evident, that he that giveth counsell, pretendeth onely (whatsoever he intendeth) the good of him, to whom he giveth it. therefore between counsell and command, one great difference is, that command is directed to a mans own benefit; and counsell to the benefit of another man. and from this ariseth another difference, that a man may be obliged to do what he is commanded; as when he hath covenanted to obey: but he cannot be obliged to do as he is counselled, because the hurt of not following it, is his own; or if he should covenant to follow it, then is the counsell turned into the nature of a command. a third difference between them is, that no man can pretend a right to be of another mans counsell; because he is not to pretend benefit by it to himselfe; but to demand right to counsell another, argues a will to know his designes, or to gain some other good to himselfe; which (as i said before) is of every mans will the proper object. this also is incident to the nature of counsell; that whatsoever it be, he that asketh it, cannot in equity accuse, or punish it: for to ask counsell of another, is to permit him to give such counsell as he shall think best; and consequently, he that giveth counsell to his soveraign, (whether a monarch, or an assembly) when he asketh it, cannot in equity be punished for it, whether the same be conformable to the opinion of the most, or not, so it be to the proposition in debate. for if the sense of the assembly can be taken notice of, before the debate be ended, they should neither ask, nor take any further counsell; for the sense of the assembly, is the resolution of the debate, and end of all deliberation. and generally he that demandeth counsell, is author of it; and therefore cannot punish it; and what the soveraign cannot, no man else can. but if one subject giveth counsell to another, to do any thing contrary to the lawes, whether that counsell proceed from evill intention, or from ignorance onely, it is punishable by the common-wealth; because ignorance of the law, is no good excuse, where every man is bound to take notice of the lawes to which he is subject. exhortation and dehortation what exhortation, and dehortation, is counsell, accompanied with signes in him that giveth it, of vehement desire to have it followed; or to say it more briefly, counsell vehemently pressed. for he that exhorteth, doth not deduce the consequences of what he adviseth to be done, and tye himselfe therein to the rigour of true reasoning; but encourages him he counselleth, to action: as he that dehorteth, deterreth him from it. and therefore they have in their speeches, a regard to the common passions, and opinions of men, in deducing their reasons; and make use of similitudes, metaphors, examples, and other tooles of oratory, to perswade their hearers of the utility, honour, or justice of following their advise. from whence may be inferred, first, that exhortation and dehortation, is directed to the good of him that giveth the counsell, not of him that asketh it, which is contrary to the duty of a counsellour; who (by the definition of counsell) ought to regard, not his own benefits, but his whom he adviseth. and that he directeth his counsell to his own benefit, is manifest enough, by the long and vehement urging, or by the artificial giving thereof; which being not required of him, and consequently proceeding from his own occasions, is directed principally to his own benefit, and but accidentarily to the good of him that is counselled, or not at all. secondly, that the use of exhortation and dehortation lyeth onely, where a man is to speak to a multitude; because when the speech is addressed to one, he may interrupt him, and examine his reasons more rigorously, than can be done in a multitude; which are too many to enter into dispute, and dialogue with him that speaketh indifferently to them all at once. thirdly, that they that exhort and dehort, where they are required to give counsell, are corrupt counsellours, and as it were bribed by their own interest. for though the counsell they give be never so good; yet he that gives it, is no more a good counsellour, than he that giveth a just sentence for a reward, is a just judge. but where a man may lawfully command, as a father in his family, or a leader in an army, his exhortations and dehortations, are not onely lawfull, but also necessary, and laudable: but then they are no more counsells, but commands; which when they are for execution of soure labour; sometimes necessity, and alwayes humanity requireth to be sweetned in the delivery, by encouragement, and in the tune and phrase of counsell, rather then in harsher language of command. examples of the difference between command and counsell, we may take from the formes of speech that expresse them in holy scripture. "have no other gods but me; make to thy selfe no graven image; take not gods name in vain; sanctifie the sabbath; honour thy parents; kill not; steale not," &c. are commands; because the reason for which we are to obey them, is drawn from the will of god our king, whom we are obliged to obey. but these words, "sell all thou hast; give it to the poore; and follow me," are counsell; because the reason for which we are to do so, is drawn from our own benefit; which is this, that we shall have "treasure in heaven." these words, "go into the village over against you, and you shall find an asse tyed, and her colt; loose her, and bring her to me," are a command: for the reason of their fact is drawn from the will of their master: but these words, "repent, and be baptized in the name of jesus," are counsell; because the reason why we should so do, tendeth not to any benefit of god almighty, who shall still be king in what manner soever we rebell; but of our selves, who have no other means of avoyding the punishment hanging over us for our sins. differences of fit and unfit counsellours as the difference of counsell from command, hath been now deduced from the nature of counsell, consisting in a deducing of the benefit, or hurt that may arise to him that is to be counselled, by the necessary or probable consequences of the action he propoundeth; so may also the differences between apt, and inept counsellours be derived from the same. for experience, being but memory of the consequences of like actions formerly observed, and counsell but the speech whereby that experience is made known to another; the vertues, and defects of counsell, are the same with the vertues, and defects intellectuall: and to the person of a common-wealth, his counsellours serve him in the place of memory, and mentall discourse. but with this resemblance of the common-wealth, to a naturall man, there is one dissimilitude joyned, of great importance; which is, that a naturall man receiveth his experience, from the naturall objects of sense, which work upon him without passion, or interest of their own; whereas they that give counsell to the representative person of a common-wealth, may have, and have often their particular ends, and passions, that render their counsells alwayes suspected, and many times unfaithfull. and therefore we may set down for the first condition of a good counsellour, that his ends, and interest, be not inconsistent with the ends and interest of him he counselleth. secondly, because the office of a counsellour, when an action comes into deliberation, is to make manifest the consequences of it, in such manner, as he that is counselled may be truly and evidently informed; he ought to propound his advise, in such forme of speech, as may make the truth most evidently appear; that is to say, with as firme ratiocination, as significant and proper language, and as briefly, as the evidence will permit. and therefore rash, and unevident inferences; (such as are fetched onely from examples, or authority of books, and are not arguments of what is good, or evill, but witnesses of fact, or of opinion,) obscure, confused, and ambiguous expressions, also all metaphoricall speeches, tending to the stirring up of passion, (because such reasoning, and such expressions, are usefull onely to deceive, or to lead him we counsell towards other ends than his own) are repugnant to the office of a counsellour. thirdly, because the ability of counselling proceedeth from experience, and long study; and no man is presumed to have experience in all those things that to the administration of a great common-wealth are necessary to be known, no man is presumed to be a good counsellour, but in such businesse, as he hath not onely been much versed in, but hath also much meditated on, and considered. for seeing the businesse of a common-wealth is this, to preserve the people at home, and defend them against forraign invasion, we shall find, it requires great knowledge of the disposition of man-kind, of the rights of government, and of the nature of equity, law, justice, and honour, not to be attained without study; and of the strength, commodities, places, both of their own country, and their neighbours; as also of the inclinations, and designes of all nations that may any way annoy them. and this is not attained to, without much experience. of which things, not onely the whole summe, but every one of the particulars requires the age, and observation of a man in years, and of more than ordinary study. the wit required for counsel, as i have said before is judgement. and the differences of men in that point come from different education, of some to one kind of study, or businesse, and of others to another. when for the doing of any thing, there be infallible rules, (as in engines, and edifices, the rules of geometry,) all the experience of the world cannot equall his counsell, that has learnt, or found out the rule. and when there is no such rule, he that hath most experience in that particular kind of businesse, has therein the best judgement, and is the best counsellour. fourthly, to be able to give counsell to a common-wealth, in a businesse that hath reference to another common-wealth, it is necessary to be acquainted with the intelligences, and letters that come from thence, and with all the records of treaties, and other transactions of state between them; which none can doe, but such as the representative shall think fit. by which we may see, that they who are not called to counsell, can have no good counsell in such cases to obtrude. fifthly, supposing the number of counsellors equall, a man is better counselled by hearing them apart, then in an assembly; and that for many causes. first, in hearing them apart, you have the advice of every man; but in an assembly may of them deliver their advise with i, or no, or with their hands, or feet, not moved by their own sense, but by the eloquence of another, or for feare of displeasing some that have spoken, or the whole assembly, by contradiction; or for feare of appearing duller in apprehension, than those that have applauded the contrary opinion. secondly, in an assembly of many, there cannot choose but be some whose interests are contrary to that of the publique; and these their interests make passionate, and passion eloquent, and eloquence drawes others into the same advice. for the passions of men, which asunder are moderate, as the heat of one brand; in assembly are like many brands, that enflame one another, (especially when they blow one another with orations) to the setting of the common-wealth on fire, under pretence of counselling it. thirdly, in hearing every man apart, one may examine (when there is need) the truth, or probability of his reasons, and of the grounds of the advise he gives, by frequent interruptions, and objections; which cannot be done in an assembly, where (in every difficult question) a man is rather astonied, and dazled with the variety of discourse upon it, than informed of the course he ought to take. besides, there cannot be an assembly of many, called together for advice, wherein there be not some, that have the ambition to be thought eloquent, and also learned in the politiques; and give not their advice with care of the businesse propounded, but of the applause of their motly orations, made of the divers colored threds, or shreds of authors; which is an impertinence at least, that takes away the time of serious consultation, and in the secret way of counselling apart, is easily avoided. fourthly, in deliberations that ought to be kept secret, (whereof there be many occasions in publique businesse,) the counsells of many, and especially in assemblies, are dangerous; and therefore great assemblies are necessitated to commit such affaires to lesser numbers, and of such persons as are most versed, and in whose fidelity they have most confidence. to conclude, who is there that so far approves the taking of counsell from a great assembly of counsellours, that wisheth for, or would accept of their pains, when there is a question of marrying his children, disposing of his lands, governing his household, or managing his private estate, especially if there be amongst them such as wish not his prosperity? a man that doth his businesse by the help of many and prudent counsellours, with every one consulting apart in his proper element, does it best, as he that useth able seconds at tennis play, placed in their proper stations. he does next best, that useth his own judgement only; as he that has no second at all. but he that is carried up and down to his businesse in a framed counsell, which cannot move but by the plurality of consenting opinions, the execution whereof is commonly (out of envy, or interest) retarded by the part dissenting, does it worst of all, and like one that is carried to the ball, though by good players, yet in a wheele-barrough, or other frame, heavy of it self, and retarded also by the inconcurrent judgements, and endeavours of them that drive it; and so much the more, as they be more that set their hands to it; and most of all, when there is one, or more amongst them, that desire to have him lose. and though it be true, that many eys see more then one; yet it is not to be understood of many counsellours; but then only, when the finall resolution is in one man. otherwise, because many eyes see the same thing in divers lines, and are apt to look asquint towards their private benefit; they that desire not to misse their marke, though they look about with two eyes, yet they never ayme but with one; and therefore no great popular common-wealth was ever kept up; but either by a forraign enemy that united them; or by the reputation of some one eminent man amongst them; or by the secret counsell of a few; or by the mutuall feare of equall factions; and not by the open consultations of the assembly. and as for very little common-wealths, be they popular, or monarchicall, there is no humane wisdome can uphold them, longer then the jealousy lasteth of their potent neighbours. chapter xxvi. of civill lawes civill law what by civill lawes, i understand the lawes, that men are therefore bound to observe, because they are members, not of this, or that common-wealth in particular, but of a common-wealth. for the knowledge of particular lawes belongeth to them, that professe the study of the lawes of their severall countries; but the knowledge of civill law in generall, to any man. the antient law of rome was called their civil law, from the word civitas, which signifies a common-wealth; and those countries, which having been under the roman empire, and governed by that law, retaine still such part thereof as they think fit, call that part the civill law, to distinguish it from the rest of their own civill lawes. but that is not it i intend to speak of here; my designe being not to shew what is law here, and there; but what is law; as plato, aristotle, cicero, and divers others have done, without taking upon them the profession of the study of the law. and first it manifest, that law in generall, is not counsell, but command; nor a command of any man to any man; but only of him, whose command is addressed to one formerly obliged to obey him. and as for civill law, it addeth only the name of the person commanding, which is persona civitatis, the person of the common-wealth. which considered, i define civill law in this manner. "civill law, is to every subject, those rules, which the common-wealth hath commanded him, by word, writing, or other sufficient sign of the will, to make use of, for the distinction of right, and wrong; that is to say, of what is contrary, and what is not contrary to the rule." in which definition, there is nothing that is not at first sight evident. for every man seeth, that some lawes are addressed to all the subjects in generall; some to particular provinces; some to particular vocations; and some to particular men; and are therefore lawes, to every of those to whom the command is directed; and to none else. as also, that lawes are the rules of just, and unjust; nothing being reputed unjust, that is not contrary to some law. likewise, that none can make lawes but the common-wealth; because our subjection is to the common-wealth only: and that commands, are to be signified by sufficient signs; because a man knows not otherwise how to obey them. and therefore, whatsoever can from this definition by necessary consequence be deduced, ought to be acknowledged for truth. now i deduce from it this that followeth. the soveraign is legislator . the legislator in all common-wealths, is only the soveraign, be he one man, as in a monarchy, or one assembly of men, as in a democracy, or aristocracy. for the legislator, is he that maketh the law. and the common-wealth only, praescribes, and commandeth the observation of those rules, which we call law: therefore the common-wealth is the legislator. but the common-wealth is no person, nor has capacity to doe any thing, but by the representative, (that is, the soveraign;) and therefore the soveraign is the sole legislator. for the same reason, none can abrogate a law made, but the soveraign; because a law is not abrogated, but by another law, that forbiddeth it to be put in execution. and not subject to civill law . the soveraign of a common-wealth, be it an assembly, or one man, is not subject to the civill lawes. for having power to make, and repeale lawes, he may when he pleaseth, free himselfe from that subjection, by repealing those lawes that trouble him, and making of new; and consequently he was free before. for he is free, that can be free when he will: nor is it possible for any person to be bound to himselfe; because he that can bind, can release; and therefore he that is bound to himselfe onely, is not bound. use, a law not by vertue of time, but of the soveraigns consent . when long use obtaineth the authority of a law, it is not the length of time that maketh the authority, but the will of the soveraign signified by his silence, (for silence is sometimes an argument of consent;) and it is no longer law, then the soveraign shall be silent therein. and therefore if the soveraign shall have a question of right grounded, not upon his present will, but upon the lawes formerly made; the length of time shal bring no prejudice to his right; but the question shal be judged by equity. for many unjust actions, and unjust sentences, go uncontrolled a longer time, than any man can remember. and our lawyers account no customes law, but such as are reasonable, and that evill customes are to be abolished; but the judgement of what is reasonable, and of what is to be abolished, belongeth to him that maketh the law, which is the soveraign assembly, or monarch. the law of nature, and the civill law contain each other . the law of nature, and the civill law, contain each other, and are of equall extent. for the lawes of nature, which consist in equity, justice, gratitude, and other morall vertues on these depending, in the condition of meer nature (as i have said before in the end of the th chapter,) are not properly lawes, but qualities that dispose men to peace, and to obedience. when a common-wealth is once settled, then are they actually lawes, and not before; as being then the commands of the common-wealth; and therefore also civill lawes: for it is the soveraign power that obliges men to obey them. for in the differences of private men, to declare, what is equity, what is justice, and what is morall vertue, and to make them binding, there is need of the ordinances of soveraign power, and punishments to be ordained for such as shall break them; which ordinances are therefore part of the civill law. the law of nature therefore is a part of the civill law in all common-wealths of the world. reciprocally also, the civill law is a part of the dictates of nature. for justice, that is to say, performance of covenant, and giving to every man his own, is a dictate of the law of nature. but every subject in a common-wealth, hath covenanted to obey the civill law, (either one with another, as when they assemble to make a common representative, or with the representative it selfe one by one, when subdued by the sword they promise obedience, that they may receive life;) and therefore obedience to the civill law is part also of the law of nature. civill, and naturall law are not different kinds, but different parts of law; whereof one part being written, is called civill, the other unwritten, naturall. but the right of nature, that is, the naturall liberty of man, may by the civill law be abridged, and restrained: nay, the end of making lawes, is no other, but such restraint; without the which there cannot possibly be any peace. and law was brought into the world for nothing else, but to limit the naturall liberty of particular men, in such manner, as they might not hurt, but assist one another, and joyn together against a common enemy. provinciall lawes are not made by custome, but by the soveraign power . if the soveraign of one common-wealth, subdue a people that have lived under other written lawes, and afterwards govern them by the same lawes, by which they were governed before; yet those lawes are the civill lawes of the victor, and not of the vanquished common-wealth, for the legislator is he, not by whose authority the lawes were first made, but by whose authority they now continue to be lawes. and therefore where there be divers provinces, within the dominion of a common-wealth, and in those provinces diversity of lawes, which commonly are called the customes of each severall province, we are not to understand that such customes have their force, onely from length of time; but that they were antiently lawes written, or otherwise made known, for the constitutions, and statutes of their soveraigns; and are now lawes, not by vertue of the praescription of time, but by the constitutions of their present soveraigns. but if an unwritten law, in all the provinces of a dominion, shall be generally observed, and no iniquity appear in the use thereof; that law can be no other but a law of nature, equally obliging all man-kind. some foolish opinions of lawyers concerning the making of lawes . seeing then all lawes, written, and unwritten, have their authority, and force, from the will of the common-wealth; that is to say, from the will of the representative; which in a monarchy is the monarch, and in other common-wealths the soveraign assembly; a man may wonder from whence proceed such opinions, as are found in the books of lawyers of eminence in severall common-wealths, directly, or by consequence making the legislative power depend on private men, or subordinate judges. as for example, "that the common law, hath no controuler but the parlament;" which is true onely where a parlament has the soveraign power, and cannot be assembled, nor dissolved, but by their own discretion. for if there be a right in any else to dissolve them, there is a right also to controule them, and consequently to controule their controulings. and if there be no such right, then the controuler of lawes is not parlamentum, but rex in parlamento. and where a parlament is soveraign, if it should assemble never so many, or so wise men, from the countries subject to them, for whatsoever cause; yet there is no man will believe, that such an assembly hath thereby acquired to themselves a legislative power. item, that the two arms of a common-wealth, are force, and justice; the first whereof is in the king; the other deposited in the hands of the parlament. as if a common-wealth could consist, where the force were in any hand, which justice had not the authority to command and govern. . that law can never be against reason, our lawyers are agreed; and that not the letter,(that is, every construction of it,) but that which is according to the intention of the legislator, is the law. and it is true: but the doubt is, of whose reason it is, that shall be received for law. it is not meant of any private reason; for then there would be as much contradiction in the lawes, as there is in the schooles; nor yet (as sr. ed, coke makes it (sir edward coke, upon littleton lib. . ch. fol .b),) an artificiall perfection of reason, gotten by long study, observation, and experience, (as his was.) for it is possible long study may encrease, and confirm erroneous sentences: and where men build on false grounds, the more they build, the greater is the ruine; and of those that study, and observe with equall time, and diligence, the reasons and resolutions are, and must remain discordant: and therefore it is not that juris prudentia, or wisedome of subordinate judges; but the reason of this our artificiall man the common-wealth, and his command, that maketh law: and the common-wealth being in their representative but one person, there cannot easily arise any contradiction in the lawes; and when there doth, the same reason is able, by interpretation, or alteration, to take it away. in all courts of justice, the soveraign (which is the person of the common-wealth,) is he that judgeth: the subordinate judge, ought to have regard to the reason, which moved his soveraign to make such law, that his sentence may be according thereunto; which then is his soveraigns sentence; otherwise it is his own, and an unjust one. law made, if not also made known, is no law . from this, that the law is a command, and a command consisteth in declaration, or manifestation of the will of him that commandeth, by voyce, writing, or some other sufficient argument of the same, we may understand, that the command of the common-wealth, is law onely to those, that have means to take notice of it. over naturall fooles, children, or mad-men there is no law, no more than over brute beasts; nor are they capable of the title of just, or unjust; because they had never power to make any covenant, or to understand the consequences thereof; and consequently never took upon them to authorise the actions of any soveraign, as they must do that make to themselves a common-wealth. and as those from whom nature, or accident hath taken away the notice of all lawes in generall; so also every man, from whom any accident, not proceeding from his own default, hath taken away the means to take notice of any particular law, is excused, if he observe it not; and to speak properly, that law is no law to him. it is therefore necessary, to consider in this place, what arguments, and signes be sufficient for the knowledge of what is the law; that is to say, what is the will of the soveraign, as well in monarchies, as in other formes of government. unwritten lawes are all of them lawes of nature and first, if it be a law that obliges all the subjects without exception, and is not written, nor otherwise published in such places as they may take notice thereof, it is a law of nature. for whatsoever men are to take knowledge of for law, not upon other mens words, but every one from his own reason, must be such as is agreeable to the reason of all men; which no law can be, but the law of nature. the lawes of nature therefore need not any publishing, nor proclamation; as being contained in this one sentence, approved by all the world, "do not that to another, which thou thinkest unreasonable to be done by another to thy selfe." secondly, if it be a law that obliges only some condition of men, or one particular man and be not written, nor published by word, then also it is a law of nature; and known by the same arguments, and signs, that distinguish those in such a condition, from other subjects. for whatsoever law is not written, or some way published by him that makes it law, can be known no way, but by the reason of him that is to obey it; and is therefore also a law not only civill, but naturall. for example, if the soveraign employ a publique minister, without written instructions what to doe; he is obliged to take for instructions the dictates of reason; as if he make a judge, the judge is to take notice, that his sentence ought to be according to the reason of his soveraign, which being alwaies understood to be equity, he is bound to it by the law of nature: or if an ambassador, he is (in al things not conteined in his written instructions) to take for instruction that which reason dictates to be most conducing to his soveraigns interest; and so of all other ministers of the soveraignty, publique and private. all which instructions of naturall reason may be comprehended under one name of fidelity; which is a branch of naturall justice. the law of nature excepted, it belongeth to the essence of all other lawes, to be made known, to every man that shall be obliged to obey them, either by word, or writing, or some other act, known to proceed from the soveraign authority. for the will of another, cannot be understood, but by his own word, or act, or by conjecture taken from his scope and purpose; which in the person of the common-wealth, is to be supposed alwaies consonant to equity and reason. and in antient time, before letters were in common use, the lawes were many times put into verse; that the rude people taking pleasure in singing, or reciting them, might the more easily reteine them in memory. and for the same reason solomon adviseth a man, to bind the ten commandements (prov. . ) upon his ten fingers. and for the law which moses gave to the people of israel at the renewing of the covenant, (deut. . ) he biddeth them to teach it their children, by discoursing of it both at home, and upon the way; at going to bed, and at rising from bed; and to write it upon the posts, and dores of their houses; and (deut. . ) to assemble the people, man, woman, and child, to heare it read. nothing is law where the legislator cannot be known nor is it enough the law be written, and published; but also that there be manifest signs, that it proceedeth from the will of the soveraign. for private men, when they have, or think they have force enough to secure their unjust designes, and convoy them safely to their ambitious ends, may publish for lawes what they please, without, or against the legislative authority. there is therefore requisite, not only a declaration of the law, but also sufficient signes of the author, and authority. the author, or legislator is supposed in every common-wealth to be evident, because he is the soveraign, who having been constituted by the consent of every one, is supposed by every one to be sufficiently known. and though the ignorance, and security of men be such, for the most part, as that when the memory of the first constitution of their common-wealth is worn out, they doe not consider, by whose power they use to be defended against their enemies, and to have their industry protected, and to be righted when injury is done them; yet because no man that considers, can make question of it, no excuse can be derived from the ignorance of where the soveraignty is placed. and it is a dictate of naturall reason, and consequently an evident law of nature, that no man ought to weaken that power, the protection whereof he hath himself demanded, or wittingly received against others. therefore of who is soveraign, no man, but by his own fault, (whatsoever evill men suggest,) can make any doubt. the difficulty consisteth in the evidence of the authority derived from him; the removing whereof, dependeth on the knowledge of the publique registers, publique counsels, publique ministers, and publique seales; by which all lawes are sufficiently verified. difference between verifying and authorising verifyed, i say, not authorised: for the verification, is but the testimony and record; not the authority of the law; which consisteth in the command of the soveraign only. the law verifyed by the subordinate judge if therefore a man have a question of injury, depending on the law of nature; that is to say, on common equity; the sentence of the judge, that by commission hath authority to take cognisance of such causes, is a sufficient verification of the law of nature in that individuall case. for though the advice of one that professeth the study of the law, be usefull for the avoyding of contention; yet it is but advice; tis the judge must tell men what is law, upon the hearing of the controversy. by the publique registers but when the question is of injury, or crime, upon a written law; every man by recourse to the registers, by himself, or others, may (if he will) be sufficiently enformed, before he doe such injury, or commit the crime, whither it be an injury, or not: nay he ought to doe so: for when a man doubts whether the act he goeth about, be just, or injust; and may informe himself, if he will; the doing is unlawfull. in like manner, he that supposeth himself injured, in a case determined by the written law, which he may by himself, or others see and consider; if he complaine before he consults with the law, he does unjustly, and bewrayeth a disposition rather to vex other men, than to demand his own right. by letters patent, and publique seale if the question be of obedience to a publique officer; to have seen his commission, with the publique seale, and heard it read; or to have had the means to be informed of it, if a man would, is a sufficient verification of his authority. for every man is obliged to doe his best endeavour, to informe himself of all written lawes, that may concerne his own future actions. the interpretation of the law dependeth on the soveraign power the legislator known; and the lawes, either by writing, or by the light of nature, sufficiently published; there wanteth yet another very materiall circumstance to make them obligatory. for it is not the letter, but the intendment, or meaning; that is to say, the authentique interpretation of the law (which is the sense of the legislator,) in which the nature of the law consisteth; and therefore the interpretation of all lawes dependeth on the authority soveraign; and the interpreters can be none but those, which the soveraign, (to whom only the subject oweth obedience) shall appoint. for else, by the craft of an interpreter, the law my be made to beare a sense, contrary to that of the soveraign; by which means the interpreter becomes the legislator. all lawes need interpretation all laws, written, and unwritten, have need of interpretation. the unwritten law of nature, though it be easy to such, as without partiality, and passion, make use of their naturall reason, and therefore leaves the violators thereof without excuse; yet considering there be very few, perhaps none, that in some cases are not blinded by self love, or some other passion, it is now become of all laws the most obscure; and has consequently the greatest need of able interpreters. the written laws, if they be short, are easily mis-interpreted, from the divers significations of a word, or two; if long, they be more obscure by the diverse significations of many words: in so much as no written law, delivered in few, or many words, can be well understood, without a perfect understanding of the finall causes, for which the law was made; the knowledge of which finall causes is in the legislator. to him therefore there can not be any knot in the law, insoluble; either by finding out the ends, to undoe it by; or else by making what ends he will, (as alexander did with his sword in the gordian knot,) by the legislative power; which no other interpreter can doe. the authenticall interpretation of law is not that of writers the interpretation of the lawes of nature, in a common-wealth, dependeth not on the books of morall philosophy. the authority of writers, without the authority of the common-wealth, maketh not their opinions law, be they never so true. that which i have written in this treatise, concerning the morall vertues, and of their necessity, for the procuring, and maintaining peace, though it bee evident truth, is not therefore presently law; but because in all common-wealths in the world, it is part of the civill law: for though it be naturally reasonable; yet it is by the soveraigne power that it is law: otherwise, it were a great errour, to call the lawes of nature unwritten law; whereof wee see so many volumes published, and in them so many contradictions of one another, and of themselves. the interpreter of the law is the judge giving sentence viva voce in every particular case the interpretation of the law of nature, is the sentence of the judge constituted by the soveraign authority, to heare and determine such controversies, as depend thereon; and consisteth in the application of the law to the present case. for in the act of judicature, the judge doth no more but consider, whither the demand of the party, be consonant to naturall reason, and equity; and the sentence he giveth, is therefore the interpretation of the law of nature; which interpretation is authentique; not because it is his private sentence; but because he giveth it by authority of the soveraign, whereby it becomes the soveraigns sentence; which is law for that time, to the parties pleading. the sentence of a judge, does not bind him, or another judge to give like sentence in like cases ever after but because there is no judge subordinate, nor soveraign, but may erre in a judgement of equity; if afterward in another like case he find it more consonant to equity to give a contrary sentence, he is obliged to doe it. no mans error becomes his own law; nor obliges him to persist in it. neither (for the same reason) becomes it a law to other judges, though sworn to follow it. for though a wrong sentence given by authority of the soveraign, if he know and allow it, in such lawes as are mutable, be a constitution of a new law, in cases, in which every little circumstance is the same; yet in lawes immutable, such as are the lawes of nature, they are no lawes to the same, or other judges, in the like cases for ever after. princes succeed one another; and one judge passeth, another commeth; nay, heaven and earth shall passe; but not one title of the law of nature shall passe; for it is the eternall law of god. therefore all the sentences of precedent judges that have ever been, cannot all together make a law contrary to naturall equity: nor any examples of former judges, can warrant an unreasonable sentence, or discharge the present judge of the trouble of studying what is equity (in the case he is to judge,) from the principles of his own naturall reason. for example sake, 'tis against the law of nature, to punish the innocent; and innocent is he that acquitteth himselfe judicially, and is acknowledged for innocent by the judge. put the case now, that a man is accused of a capitall crime, and seeing the powers and malice of some enemy, and the frequent corruption and partiality of judges, runneth away for feare of the event, and afterwards is taken, and brought to a legall triall, and maketh it sufficiently appear, he was not guilty of the crime, and being thereof acquitted, is neverthelesse condemned to lose his goods; this is a manifest condemnation of the innocent. i say therefore, that there is no place in the world, where this can be an interpretation of a law of nature, or be made a law by the sentences of precedent judges, that had done the same. for he that judged it first, judged unjustly; and no injustice can be a pattern of judgement to succeeding judges. a written law may forbid innocent men to fly, and they may be punished for flying: but that flying for feare of injury, should be taken for presumption of guilt, after a man is already absolved of the crime judicially, is contrary to the nature of a presumption, which hath no place after judgement given. yet this is set down by a great lawyer for the common law of england. "if a man," saith he, "that is innocent, be accused of felony, and for feare flyeth for the same; albeit he judicially acquitteth himselfe of the felony; yet if it be found that he fled for the felony, he shall notwithstanding his innocency, forfeit all his goods, chattels, debts, and duties. for as to the forfeiture of them, the law will admit no proofe against the presumption in law, grounded upon his flight." here you see, an innocent man, judicially acquitted, notwithstanding his innocency, (when no written law forbad him to fly) after his acquitall, upon a presumption in law, condemned to lose all the goods he hath. if the law ground upon his flight a presumption of the fact, (which was capitall,) the sentence ought to have been capitall: if the presumption were not of the fact, for what then ought he to lose his goods? this therefore is no law of england; nor is the condemnation grounded upon a presumption of law, but upon the presumption of the judges. it is also against law, to say that no proofe shall be admitted against a presumption of law. for all judges, soveraign and subordinate, if they refuse to heare proofe, refuse to do justice: for though the sentence be just, yet the judges that condemn without hearing the proofes offered, are unjust judges; and their presumption is but prejudice; which no man ought to bring with him to the seat of justice, whatsoever precedent judgements, or examples he shall pretend to follow. there be other things of this nature, wherein mens judgements have been perverted, by trusting to precedents: but this is enough to shew, that though the sentence of the judge, be a law to the party pleading, yet it is no law to any judge, that shall succeed him in that office. in like manner, when question is of the meaning of written lawes, he is not the interpreter of them, that writeth a commentary upon them. for commentaries are commonly more subject to cavill, than the text; and therefore need other commentaries; and so there will be no end of such interpretation. and therefore unlesse there be an interpreter authorised by the soveraign, from which the subordinate judges are not to recede, the interpreter can be no other than the ordinary judges, in the some manner, as they are in cases of the unwritten law; and their sentences are to be taken by them that plead, for lawes in that particular case; but not to bind other judges, in like cases to give like judgements. for a judge may erre in the interpretation even of written lawes; but no errour of a subordinate judge, can change the law, which is the generall sentence of the soveraigne. the difference between the letter and sentence of the law in written lawes, men use to make a difference between the letter, and the sentence of the law: and when by the letter, is meant whatsoever can be gathered from the bare words, 'tis well distinguished. for the significations of almost all words, are either in themselves, or in the metaphoricall use of them, ambiguous; and may be drawn in argument, to make many senses; but there is onely one sense of the law. but if by the letter, be meant the literall sense, then the letter, and the sentence or intention of the law, is all one. for the literall sense is that, which the legislator is alwayes supposed to be equity: for it were a great contumely for a judge to think otherwise of the soveraigne. he ought therefore, if the word of the law doe not fully authorise a reasonable sentence, to supply it with the law of nature; or if the case be difficult, to respit judgement till he have received more ample authority. for example, a written law ordaineth, that he which is thrust out of his house by force, shall be restored by force: it happens that a man by negligence leaves his house empty, and returning is kept out by force, in which case there is no speciall law ordained. it is evident, that this case is contained in the same law: for else there is no remedy for him at all; which is to be supposed against the intention of the legislator. again, the word of the law, commandeth to judge according to the evidence: a man is accused falsly of a fact, which the judge saw himself done by another; and not by him that is accused. in this case neither shall the letter of the law be followed to the condemnation of the innocent, nor shall the judge give sentence against the evidence of the witnesses; because the letter of the law is to the contrary: but procure of the soveraign that another be made judge, and himselfe witnesse. so that the incommodity that follows the bare words of a written law, may lead him to the intention of the law, whereby to interpret the same the better; though no incommodity can warrant a sentence against the law. for every judge of right, and wrong, is not judge of what is commodious, or incommodious to the common-wealth. the abilities required in a judge the abilities required in a good interpreter of the law, that is to say, in a good judge, are not the same with those of an advocate; namely the study of the lawes. for a judge, as he ought to take notice of the fact, from none but the witnesses; so also he ought to take notice of the law, from nothing but the statutes, and constitutions of the soveraign, alledged in the pleading, or declared to him by some that have authority from the soveraign power to declare them; and need not take care before-hand, what hee shall judge; for it shall bee given him what hee shall say concerning the fact, by witnesses; and what hee shall say in point of law, from those that shall in their pleadings shew it, and by authority interpret it upon the place. the lords of parlament in england were judges, and most difficult causes have been heard and determined by them; yet few of them were much versed in the study of the lawes, and fewer had made profession of them: and though they consulted with lawyers, that were appointed to be present there for that purpose; yet they alone had the authority of giving sentence. in like manner, in the ordinary trialls of right, twelve men of the common people, are the judges, and give sentence, not onely of the fact, but of the right; and pronounce simply for the complaynant, or for the defendant; that is to say, are judges not onely of the fact, but also of the right: and in a question of crime, not onely determine whether done, or not done; but also whether it be murder, homicide, felony, assault, and the like, which are determinations of law: but because they are not supposed to know the law of themselves, there is one that hath authority to enforme them of it, in the particular case they are to judge of. but yet if they judge not according to that he tells them, they are not subject thereby to any penalty; unlesse it be made appear, they did it against their consciences, or had been corrupted by reward. the things that make a good judge, or good interpreter of the lawes, are, first a right understanding of that principall law of nature called equity; which depending not on the reading of other mens writings, but on the goodnesse of a mans own naturall reason, and meditation, is presumed to be in those most, that have had most leisure, and had the most inclination to meditate thereon. secondly, contempt of unnecessary riches, and preferments. thirdly, to be able in judgement to devest himselfe of all feare, anger, hatred, love, and compassion. fourthly, and lastly, patience to heare; diligent attention in hearing; and memory to retain, digest and apply what he hath heard. divisions of law the difference and division of the lawes, has been made in divers manners, according to the different methods, of those men that have written of them. for it is a thing that dependeth not on nature, but on the scope of the writer; and is subservient to every mans proper method. in the institutions of justinian, we find seven sorts of civill lawes. . the edicts, constitutions, and epistles of the prince, that is, of the emperour; because the whole power of the people was in him. like these, are the proclamations of the kings of england. . the decrees of the whole people of rome (comprehending the senate,) when they were put to the question by the senate. these were lawes, at first, by the vertue of the soveraign power residing in the people; and such of them as by the emperours were not abrogated, remained lawes by the authority imperiall. for all lawes that bind, are understood to be lawes by his authority that has power to repeale them. somewhat like to these lawes, are the acts of parliament in england. . the decrees of the common people (excluding the senate,) when they were put to the question by the tribune of the people. for such of them as were not abrogated by the emperours, remained lawes by the authority imperiall. like to these, were the orders of the house of commons in england. . senatus consulta, the orders of the senate; because when the people of rome grew so numerous, as it was inconvenient to assemble them; it was thought fit by the emperour, that men should consult the senate in stead of the people: and these have some resemblance with the acts of counsell. . the edicts of praetors, and (in some cases) of the aediles: such as are the chiefe justices in the courts of england. . responsa prudentum; which were the sentences, and opinions of those lawyers, to whom the emperour gave authority to interpret the law, and to give answer to such as in matter of law demanded their advice; which answers, the judges in giving judgement were obliged by the constitutions of the emperour to observe; and should be like the reports of cases judged, if other judges be by the law of england bound to observe them. for the judges of the common law of england, are not properly judges, but juris consulti; of whom the judges, who are either the lords, or twelve men of the country, are in point of law to ask advice. . also, unwritten customes, (which in their own nature are an imitation of law,) by the tacite consent of the emperour, in case they be not contrary to the law of nature, are very lawes. another division of lawes, is into naturall and positive. naturall are those which have been lawes from all eternity; and are called not onely naturall, but also morall lawes; consisting in the morall vertues, as justice, equity, and all habits of the mind that conduce to peace, and charity; of which i have already spoken in the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters. positive, are those which have not been for eternity; but have been made lawes by the will of those that have had the soveraign power over others; and are either written, or made known to men, by some other argument of the will of their legislator. another division of law again, of positive lawes some are humane, some divine; and of humane positive lawes, some are distributive, some penal. distributive are those that determine the rights of the subjects, declaring to every man what it is, by which he acquireth and holdeth a propriety in lands, or goods, and a right or liberty of action; and these speak to all the subjects. penal are those, which declare, what penalty shall be inflicted on those that violate the law; and speak to the ministers and officers ordained for execution. for though every one ought to be informed of the punishments ordained beforehand for their transgression; neverthelesse the command is not addressed to the delinquent, (who cannot be supposed will faithfully punish himselfe,) but to publique ministers appointed to see the penalty executed. and these penal lawes are for the most part written together with the lawes distributive; and are sometimes called judgements. for all lawes are generall judgements, or sentences of the legislator; as also every particular judgement, is a law to him, whose case is judged. divine positive law how made known to be law divine positive lawes (for naturall lawes being eternall, and universall, are all divine,) are those, which being the commandements of god, (not from all eternity, nor universally addressed to all men, but onely to a certain people, or to certain persons,) are declared for such, by those whom god hath authorised to declare them. but this authority of man to declare what be these positive lawes of god, how can it be known? god may command a man by a supernaturall way, to deliver lawes to other men. but because it is of the essence of law, that he who is to be obliged, be assured of the authority of him that declareth it, which we cannot naturally take notice to be from god, how can a man without supernaturall revelation be assured of the revelation received by the declarer? and how can he be bound to obey them? for the first question, how a man can be assured of the revelation of another, without a revelation particularly to himselfe, it is evidently impossible: for though a man may be induced to believe such revelation, from the miracles they see him doe, or from seeing the extraordinary sanctity of his life, or from seeing the extraordinary wisedome, or extraordinary felicity of his actions, all which are marks of gods extraordinary favour; yet they are not assured evidence of speciall revelation. miracles are marvellous workes: but that which is marvellous to one, may not be so to another. sanctity may be feigned; and the visible felicities of this world, are most often the work of god by naturall, and ordinary causes. and therefore no man can infallibly know by naturall reason, that another has had a supernaturall revelation of gods will; but only a beliefe; every one (as the signs thereof shall appear greater, or lesser) a firmer, or a weaker belief. but for the second, how he can be bound to obey them; it is not so hard. for if the law declared, be not against the law of nature (which is undoubtedly gods law) and he undertake to obey it, he is bound by his own act; bound i say to obey it, but not bound to believe it: for mens beliefe, and interiour cogitations, are not subject to the commands, but only to the operation of god, ordinary, or extraordinary. faith of supernaturall law, is not a fulfilling, but only an assenting to the same; and not a duty that we exhibite to god, but a gift which god freely giveth to whom he pleaseth; as also unbelief is not a breach of any of his lawes; but a rejection of them all, except the lawes naturall. but this that i say, will be made yet cleerer, by the examples, and testimonies concerning this point in holy scripture. the covenant god made with abraham (in a supernaturall manner) was thus, (gen. . ) "this is the covenant which thou shalt observe between me and thee and thy seed after thee." abrahams seed had not this revelation, nor were yet in being; yet they are a party to the covenant, and bound to obey what abraham should declare to them for gods law; which they could not be, but in vertue of the obedience they owed to their parents; who (if they be subject to no other earthly power, as here in the case of abraham) have soveraign power over their children, and servants. againe, where god saith to abraham, "in thee shall all nations of the earth be blessed: for i know thou wilt command thy children, and thy house after thee to keep the way of the lord, and to observe righteousnesse and judgement," it is manifest, the obedience of his family, who had no revelation, depended on their former obligation to obey their soveraign. at mount sinai moses only went up to god; the people were forbidden to approach on paine of death; yet were they bound to obey all that moses declared to them for gods law. upon what ground, but on this submission of their own, "speak thou to us, and we will heare thee; but let not god speak to us, lest we dye?" by which two places it sufficiently appeareth, that in a common-wealth, a subject that has no certain and assured revelation particularly to himself concerning the will of god, is to obey for such, the command of the common-wealth: for if men were at liberty, to take for gods commandements, their own dreams, and fancies, or the dreams and fancies of private men; scarce two men would agree upon what is gods commandement; and yet in respect of them, every man would despise the commandements of the common-wealth. i conclude therefore, that in all things not contrary to the morall law, (that is to say, to the law of nature,) all subjects are bound to obey that for divine law, which is declared to be so, by the lawes of the common-wealth. which also is evident to any mans reason; for whatsoever is not against the law of nature, may be made law in the name of them that have the soveraign power; and there is no reason men should be the lesse obliged by it, when tis propounded in the name of god. besides, there is no place in the world where men are permitted to pretend other commandements of god, than are declared for such by the common-wealth. christian states punish those that revolt from christian religion, and all other states, those that set up any religion by them forbidden. for in whatsoever is not regulated by the common-wealth, tis equity (which is the law of nature, and therefore an eternall law of god) that every man equally enjoy his liberty. another division of lawes there is also another distinction of laws, into fundamentall, and not fundamentall: but i could never see in any author, what a fundamentall law signifieth. neverthelesse one may very reasonably distinguish laws in that manner. a fundamentall law what for a fundamentall law in every common-wealth is that, which being taken away, the common-wealth faileth, and is utterly dissolved; as a building whose foundation is destroyed. and therefore a fundamentall law is that, by which subjects are bound to uphold whatsoever power is given to the soveraign, whether a monarch, or a soveraign assembly, without which the common-wealth cannot stand, such as is the power of war and peace, of judicature, of election of officers, and of doing whatsoever he shall think necessary for the publique good. not fundamentall is that the abrogating whereof, draweth not with it the dissolution of the common-wealth; such as are the lawes concerning controversies between subject and subject. thus much of the division of lawes. difference between law and right i find the words lex civilis, and jus civile, that is to say, law and right civil, promiscuously used for the same thing, even in the most learned authors; which neverthelesse ought not to be so. for right is liberty, namely that liberty which the civil law leaves us: but civill law is an obligation; and takes from us the liberty which the law of nature gave us. nature gave a right to every man to secure himselfe by his own strength, and to invade a suspected neighbour, by way of prevention; but the civill law takes away that liberty, in all cases where the protection of the lawe may be safely stayd for. insomuch as lex and jus, are as different as obligation and liberty. and between a law and a charter likewise lawes and charters are taken promiscuously for the same thing. yet charters are donations of the soveraign; and not lawes, but exemptions from law. the phrase of a law is jubeo, injungo, i command, and enjoyn: the phrase of a charter is dedi, concessi, i have given, i have granted: but what is given or granted, to a man, is not forced upon him, by a law. a law may be made to bind all the subjects of a common-wealth: a liberty, or charter is only to one man, or some one part of the people. for to say all the people of a common-wealth, have liberty in any case whatsoever; is to say, that in such case, there hath been no law made; or else having been made, is now abrogated. chapter xxvii. of crimes, excuses, and extenuations sinne what a sinne, is not onely a transgression of a law, but also any contempt of the legislator. for such contempt, is a breach of all his lawes at once. and therefore may consist, not onely in the commission of a fact, or in the speaking of words by the lawes forbidden, or in the omission of what the law commandeth, but also in the intention, or purpose to transgresse. for the purpose to breake the law, is some degree of contempt of him, to whom it belongeth to see it executed. to be delighted in the imagination onely, of being possessed of another mans goods, servants, or wife, without any intention to take them from him by force, or fraud, is no breach of the law, that sayth, "thou shalt not covet:" nor is the pleasure a man my have in imagining, or dreaming of the death of him, from whose life he expecteth nothing but dammage, and displeasure, a sinne; but the resolving to put some act in execution, that tendeth thereto. for to be pleased in the fiction of that, which would please a man if it were reall, is a passion so adhaerent to the nature both of a man, and every other living creature, as to make it a sinne, were to make sinne of being a man. the consideration of this, has made me think them too severe, both to themselves, and others, that maintain, that the first motions of the mind, (though checked with the fear of god) be sinnes. but i confesse it is safer to erre on that hand, than on the other. a crime what a crime, is a sinne, consisting in the committing (by deed, or word) of that which the law forbiddeth, or the omission of what it hath commanded. so that every crime is a sinne; but not every sinne a crime. to intend to steale, or kill, is a sinne, though it never appeare in word, or fact: for god that seeth the thoughts of man, can lay it to his charge: but till it appear by some thing done, or said, by which the intention may be crime; which distinction the greeks observed in the word amartema, and egklema, or aitia; wherof the former, (which is translated sinne,) signifieth any swarving from the law whatsoever; but the two later, (which are translated crime,) signifie that sinne onely, whereof one man may accuse another. but of intentions, which never appear by any outward act, there is no place for humane accusation. in like manner the latines by peccatum, which is sinne, signifie all manner of deviation from the law; but by crimen, (which word they derive from cerno, which signifies to perceive,) they mean onely such sinnes, as my be made appear before a judge; and therfore are not meer intentions. where no civill law is, there is no crime from this relation of sinne to the law, and of crime to the civill law, may be inferred, first, that where law ceaseth, sinne ceaseth. but because the law of nature is eternall, violation of covenants, ingratitude, arrogance, and all facts contrary to any morall vertue, can never cease to be sinne. secondly, that the civill law ceasing, crimes cease: for there being no other law remaining, but that of nature, there is no place for accusation; every man being his own judge, and accused onely by his own conscience, and cleared by the uprightnesse of his own intention. when therefore his intention is right, his fact is no sinne: if otherwise, his fact is sinne; but not crime. thirdly, that when the soveraign power ceaseth, crime also ceaseth: for where there is no such power, there is no protection to be had from the law; and therefore every one may protect himself by his own power: for no man in the institution of soveraign power can be supposed to give away the right of preserving his own body; for the safety whereof all soveraignty was ordained. but this is to be understood onely of those, that have not themselves contributed to the taking away of the power that protected them: for that was a crime from the beginning. ignorance of the law of nature excuseth no man the source of every crime, is some defect of the understanding; or some errour in reasoning, or some sudden force of the passions. defect in the understanding, is ignorance; in reasoning, erroneous opinion. again, ignorance is of three sort; of the law, and of the soveraign, and of the penalty. ignorance of the law of nature excuseth no man; because every man that hath attained to the use of reason, is supposed to know, he ought not to do to another, what he would not have done to himselfe. therefore into what place soever a man shall come, if he do any thing contrary to that law, it is a crime. if a man come from the indies hither, and perswade men here to receive a new religion, or teach them any thing that tendeth to disobedience of the lawes of this country, though he be never so well perswaded of the truth of what he teacheth, he commits a crime, and may be justly punished for the same, not onely because his doctrine is false, but also because he does that which he would not approve in another, namely, that comming from hence, he should endeavour to alter the religion there. but ignorance of the civill law, shall excuse a man in a strange country, till it be declared to him; because, till then no civill law is binding. ignorance of the civill law excuseth sometimes in the like manner, if the civill law of a mans own country, be not so sufficiently declared, as he may know it if he will; nor the action against the law of nature; the ignorance is a good excuse: in other cases ignorance of the civill law, excuseth not. ignorance of the soveraign excuseth not ignorance of the soveraign power, in the place of a mans ordinary residence, excuseth him not; because he ought to take notice of the power, by which he hath been protected there. ignorance of the penalty excuseth not ignorance of the penalty, where the law is declared, excuseth no man: for in breaking the law, which without a fear of penalty to follow, were not a law, but vain words, he undergoeth the penalty, though he know not what it is; because, whosoever voluntarily doth any action, accepteth all the known consequences of it; but punishment is a known consequence of the violation of the lawes, in every common-wealth; which punishment, if it be determined already by the law, he is subject to that; if not, then is he subject to arbitrary punishment. for it is reason, that he which does injury, without other limitation than that of his own will, should suffer punishment without other limitation, than that of his will whose law is thereby violated. punishments declared before the fact, excuse from greater punishments after it but when a penalty, is either annexed to the crime in the law it selfe, or hath been usually inflicted in the like cases; there the delinquent is excused from a greater penalty. for the punishment foreknown, if not great enough to deterre men from the action, is an invitement to it: because when men compare the benefit of their injustice, with the harm of their punishment, by necessity of nature they choose that which appeareth best for themselves; and therefore when they are punished more than the law had formerly determined, or more than others were punished for the same crime; it the law that tempted, and deceiveth them. nothing can be made a crime by a law made after the fact no law, made after a fact done, can make it a crime: because if the fact be against the law of nature, the law was before the fact; and a positive law cannot be taken notice of, before it be made; and therefore cannot be obligatory. but when the law that forbiddeth a fact, is made before the fact be done; yet he that doth the fact, is lyable to the penalty ordained after, in case no lesser penalty were made known before, neither by writing, nor by example, for the reason immediatly before alledged. false principles of right and wrong causes of crime from defect in reasoning, (that is to say, from errour,) men are prone to violate the lawes, three wayes. first, by presumption of false principles; as when men from having observed how in all places, and in all ages, unjust actions have been authorised, by the force, and victories of those who have committed them; and that potent men, breaking through the cob-web lawes of their country, the weaker sort, and those that have failed in their enterprises, have been esteemed the onely criminals; have thereupon taken for principles, and grounds of their reasoning, "that justice is but a vain word: that whatsoever a man can get by his own industry, and hazard, is his own: that the practice of all nations cannot be unjust: that examples of former times are good arguments of doing the like again;" and many more of that kind: which being granted, no act in it selfe can be a crime, but must be made so (not by the law, but) by the successe of them that commit it; and the same fact be vertuous, or vicious, as fortune pleaseth; so that what marius makes a crime, sylla shall make meritorious, and caesar (the same lawes standing) turn again into a crime, to the perpetuall disturbance of the peace of the common-wealth. false teachers mis-interpreting the law of nature secondly, by false teachers, that either mis-interpret the law of nature, making it thereby repugnant to the law civill; or by teaching for lawes, such doctrines of their own, or traditions of former times, as are inconsistent with the duty of a subject. and false inferences from true principles, by teachers thirdly, by erroneous inferences from true principles; which happens commonly to men that are hasty, and praecipitate in concluding, and resolving what to do; such as are they, that have both a great opinion of their own understanding, and believe that things of this nature require not time and study, but onely common experience, and a good naturall wit; whereof no man thinks himselfe unprovided: whereas the knowledge, of right and wrong, which is no lesse difficult, there is no man will pretend to, without great and long study. and of those defects in reasoning, there is none that can excuse (though some of them may extenuate) a crime, in any man, that pretendeth to the administration of his own private businesse; much lesse in them that undertake a publique charge; because they pretend to the reason, upon the want whereof they would ground their excuse. by their passions; of the passions that most frequently are the causes of crime, one, is vain-glory, or a foolish over-rating of their own worth; as if difference of worth, were an effect of their wit, or riches, or bloud, or some other naturall quality, not depending on the will of those that have the soveraign authority. from whence proceedeth a presumption that the punishments ordained by the lawes, and extended generally to all subjects, ought not to be inflicted on them, with the same rigour they are inflicted on poore, obscure, and simple men, comprehended under the name of the vulgar. presumption of riches therefore it happeneth commonly, that such as value themselves by the greatnesse of their wealth, adventure on crimes, upon hope of escaping punishment, by corrupting publique justice, or obtaining pardon by mony, or other rewards. and friends and that such as have multitude of potent kindred; and popular men, that have gained reputation amongst the multitude, take courage to violate the lawes, from a hope of oppressing the power, to whom it belongeth to put them in execution. wisedome and that such as have a great, and false opinion of their own wisedome, take upon them to reprehend the actions, and call in question the authority of them that govern, and so to unsettle the lawes with their publique discourse, as that nothing shall be a crime, but what their own designes require should be so. it happeneth also to the same men, to be prone to all such crimes, as consist in craft, and in deceiving of their neighbours; because they think their designes are too subtile to be perceived. these i say are effects of a false presumption of their own wisdome. for of them that are the first movers in the disturbance of common-wealth, (which can never happen without a civill warre,) very few are left alive long enough, to see their new designes established: so that the benefit of their crimes, redoundeth to posterity, and such as would least have wished it: which argues they were not as wise, as they thought they were. and those that deceive upon hope of not being observed, do commonly deceive themselves, (the darknesse in which they believe they lye hidden, being nothing else but their own blindnesse;) and are no wiser than children, that think all hid, by hiding their own eyes. and generally all vain-glorious men, (unlesse they be withall timorous,) are subject to anger; as being more prone than others to interpret for contempt, the ordinary liberty of conversation: and there are few crimes that may not be produced by anger. hatred, lust, ambition, covetousnesse, causes of crime as for the passions, of hate, lust, ambition, and covetousnesse, what crimes they are apt to produce, is so obvious to every mans experience and understanding, as there needeth nothing to be said of them, saving that they are infirmities, so annexed to the nature, both of man, and all other living creatures, as that their effects cannot be hindred, but by extraordinary use of reason, or a constant severity in punishing them. for in those things men hate, they find a continuall, and unavoydable molestation; whereby either a mans patience must be everlasting, or he must be eased by removing the power of that which molesteth him; the former is difficult; the later is many times impossible, without some violation of the law. ambition, and covetousnesse are passions also that are perpetually incumbent, and pressing; whereas reason is not perpetually present, to resist them: and therefore whensoever the hope of impunity appears, their effects proceed. and for lust, what it wants in the lasting, it hath in the vehemence, which sufficeth to weigh down the apprehension of all easie, or uncertain punishments. fear sometimes cause of crime, as when the danger is neither present, nor corporeall of all passions, that which enclineth men least to break the lawes, is fear. nay, (excepting some generous natures,) it is the onely thing, (when there is apparence of profit, or pleasure by breaking the lawes,) that makes men keep them. and yet in many cases a crime may be committed through feare. for not every fear justifies the action it produceth, but the fear onely of corporeall hurt, which we call bodily fear, and from which a man cannot see how to be delivered, but by the action. a man is assaulted, fears present death, from which he sees not how to escape, but by wounding him that assaulteth him; if he wound him to death, this is no crime; because no man is supposed at the making of a common-wealth, to have abandoned the defence of his life, or limbes, where the law cannot arrive time enough to his assistance. but to kill a man, because from his actions, or his threatnings, i may argue he will kill me when he can, (seeing i have time, and means to demand protection, from the soveraign power,) is a crime. again, a man receives words of disgrace, or some little injuries (for which they that made the lawes, had assigned no punishment, nor thought it worthy of a man that hath the use of reason, to take notice of,) and is afraid, unlesse he revenge it, he shall fall into contempt, and consequently be obnoxious to the like injuries from others; and to avoyd this, breaks the law, and protects himselfe for the future, by the terrour of his private revenge. this is a crime; for the hurt is not corporeall, but phantasticall, and (though in this corner of the world, made sensible by a custome not many years since begun, amongst young and vain men,) so light, as a gallant man, and one that is assured of his own courage, cannot take notice of. also a man may stand in fear of spirits, either through his own superstition, or through too much credit given to other men, that tell him of strange dreams and visions; and thereby be made believe they will hurt him, for doing, or omitting divers things, which neverthelesse, to do, or omit, is contrary to the lawes; and that which is so done, or omitted, is not to be excused by this fear; but is a crime. for (as i have shewn before in the second chapter) dreams be naturally but the fancies remaining in sleep, after the impressions our senses had formerly received waking; and when men are by any accident unassured they have slept, seem to be reall visions; and therefore he that presumes to break the law upon his own, or anothers dream, or pretended vision, or upon other fancy of the power of invisible spirits, than is permitted by the common-wealth, leaveth the law of nature, which is a certain offence, and followeth the imagery of his own, or another private mans brain, which he can never know whether it signifieth any thing, or nothing, nor whether he that tells his dream, say true, or lye; which if every private man should have leave to do, (as they must by the law of nature, if any one have it) there could no law be made to hold, and so all common-wealth would be dissolved. crimes not equall from these different sources of crimes, it appeares already, that all crimes are not (as the stoicks of old time maintained) of the same allay. there is place, not only for excuse, by which that which seemed a crime, is proved to be none at all; but also for extenuation, by which the crime, that seemed great, is made lesse. for though all crimes doe equally deserve the name of injustice, as all deviation from a strait line is equally crookednesse, which the stoicks rightly observed; yet it does not follow that all crimes are equally unjust, no more than that all crooked lines are equally crooked; which the stoicks not observing, held it as great a crime, to kill a hen, against the law, as to kill ones father. totall excuses that which totally excuseth a fact, and takes away from it the nature of a crime, can be none but that, which at the same time, taketh away the obligation of the law. for the fact committed once against the law, if he that committed it be obliged to the law, can be no other than a crime. the want of means to know the law, totally excuseth: for the law whereof a man has no means to enforme himself, is not obligatory. but the want of diligence to enquire, shall not be considered as a want of means; nor shall any man, that pretendeth to reason enough for the government of his own affairs, be supposed to want means to know the lawes of nature; because they are known by the reason he pretends to: only children, and madmen are excused from offences against the law naturall. where a man is captive, or in the power of the enemy, (and he is then in the power of the enemy, when his person, or his means of living, is so,) if it be without his own fault, the obligation of the law ceaseth; because he must obey the enemy, or dye; and consequently such obedience is no crime: for no man is obliged (when the protection of the law faileth,) not to protect himself, by the best means he can. if a man by the terrour of present death, be compelled to doe a fact against the law, he is totally excused; because no law can oblige a man to abandon his own preservation. and supposing such a law were obligatory; yet a man would reason thus, "if i doe it not, i die presently; if i doe it, i die afterwards; therefore by doing it, there is time of life gained;" nature therefore compells him to the fact. when a man is destitute of food, or other thing necessary for his life, and cannot preserve himselfe any other way, but by some fact against the law; as if in a great famine he take the food by force, or stealth, which he cannot obtaine for mony nor charity; or in defence of his life, snatch away another mans sword, he is totally excused, for the reason next before alledged. excuses against the author again, facts done against the law, by the authority of another, are by that authority excused against the author; because no man ought to accuse his own fact in another, that is but his instrument: but it is not excused against a third person thereby injured; because in the violation of the law, bothe the author, and actor are criminalls. from hence it followeth that when that man, or assembly, that hath the soveraign power, commandeth a man to do that which is contrary to a former law, the doing of it is totally excused: for he ought not to condemn it himselfe, because he is the author; and what cannot justly be condemned by the soveraign, cannot justly be punished by any other. besides, when the soveraign commandeth any thing to be done against his own former law, the command, as to that particular fact, is an abrogation of the law. if that man, or assembly, that hath the soveraign power, disclaime any right essentiall to the soveraignty, whereby there accrueth to the subject, any liberty inconsistent with the soveraign power, that is to say, with the very being of a common-wealth, if the subject shall refuse to obey the command in any thing, contrary to the liberty granted, this is neverthelesse a sinne, and contrary to the duty of the subject: for he ought to take notice of what is inconsistent with the soveraignty, because it was erected by his own consent, and for his own defence; and that such liberty as is inconsistent with it, was granted through ignorance of the evill consequence thereof. but if he not onely disobey, but also resist a publique minister in the execution of it, then it is a crime; because he might have been righted, (without any breach of the peace,) upon complaint. the degrees of crime are taken on divers scales, and measured, first, by the malignity of the source, or cause: secondly, by the contagion of the example: thirdly, by the mischiefe of the effect; and fourthly, by the concurrence of times, places, and persons. presumption of power, aggravateth the same fact done against the law, if it proceed from presumption of strength, riches, or friends to resist those that are to execute the law, is a greater crime, than if it proceed from hope of not being discovered, or of escape by flight: for presumption of impunity by force, is a root, from whence springeth, at all times, and upon all temptations, a contempt of all lawes; whereas in the later case, the apprehension of danger, that makes a man fly, renders him more obedient for the future. a crime which we know to be so, is greater than the same crime proceeding from a false perswasion that it is lawfull: for he that committeth it against his own conscience, presumeth on his force, or other power, which encourages him to commit the same again: but he that doth it by errour, after the errour shewn him, is conformable to the law. evill teachers, extenuate hee, whose errour proceeds from the authority of a teacher, or an interpreter of the law publiquely authorised, is not so faulty, as he whose errour proceedeth from a peremptory pursute of his own principles, and reasoning: for what is taught by one that teacheth by publique authority, the common-wealth teacheth, and hath a resemblance of law, till the same authority controuleth it; and in all crimes that contain not in them a denyall of the soveraign power, nor are against an evident law, excuseth totally: whereas he that groundeth his actions, on his private judgement, ought according to the rectitude, or errour thereof, to stand, or fall. examples of impunity, extenuate the same fact, if it have been constantly punished in other men, as a greater crime, than if there have been may precedent examples of impunity. for those examples, are so many hopes of impunity given by the soveraign himselfe: and because he which furnishes a man with such a hope, and presumption of mercy, as encourageth him to offend, hath his part in the offence; he cannot reasonably charge the offender with the whole. praemeditation, aggravateth a crime arising from a sudden passion, is not so great, as when the same ariseth from long meditation: for in the former case there is a place for extenuation, in the common infirmity of humane nature: but he that doth it with praemeditation, has used circumspection, and cast his eye, on the law, on the punishment, and on the consequence thereof to humane society; all which in committing the crime, hee hath contemned, and postposed to his own appetite. but there is no suddennesse of passion sufficient for a totall excuse: for all the time between the first knowing of the law, and the commission of the fact, shall be taken for a time of deliberation; because he ought by meditation of the law, to rectifie the irregularity of his passions. where the law is publiquely, and with assiduity, before all the people read, and interpreted; a fact done against it, is a greater crime, than where men are left without such instruction, to enquire of it with difficulty, uncertainty, and interruption of their callings, and be informed by private men: for in this case, part of the fault is discharged upon common infirmity; but in the former there is apparent negligence, which is not without some contempt of the soveraign power. tacite approbation of the soveraign, extenuates those facts which the law expresly condemneth, but the law-maker by other manifest signes of his will tacitly approveth, are lesse crimes, than the same facts, condemned both by the law, and lawmaker. for seeing the will of the law-maker is a law, there appear in this case two contradictory lawes; which would totally excuse, if men were bound to take notice of the soveraigns approbation, by other arguments, than are expressed by his command. but because there are punishments consequent, not onely to the transgression of his law, but also to the observing of it, he is in part a cause of the transgression, and therefore cannot reasonably impute the whole crime to the delinquent. for example, the law condemneth duells; the punishment is made capitall: on the contrary part, he that refuseth duell, is subject to contempt and scorne, without remedy; and sometimes by the soveraign himselfe thought unworthy to have any charge, or preferment in warre: if thereupon he accept duell, considering all men lawfully endeavour to obtain the good opinion of them that have the soveraign power, he ought not in reason to be rigorously punished; seeing part of the fault may be discharged on the punisher; which i say, not as wishing liberty of private revenges, or any other kind of disobedience; but a care in governours, not to countenance any thing obliquely, which directly they forbid. the examples of princes, to those that see them, are, and ever have been, more potent to govern their actions, than the lawes themselves. and though it be our duty to do, not what they do, but what they say; yet will that duty never be performed, till it please god to give men an extraordinary, and supernaturall grace to follow that precept. comparison of crimes from their effects again, if we compare crimes by the mischiefe of their effects, first, the same fact, when it redounds to the dammage of many, is greater, than when it redounds to the hurt of few. and therefore, when a fact hurteth, not onely in the present, but also, (by example) in the future, it is a greater crime, than if it hurt onely in the present: for the former, is a fertile crime, and multiplyes to the hurt of many; the later is barren. to maintain doctrines contrary to the religion established in the common-wealth, is a greater fault, in an authorised preacher, than in a private person: so also is it, to live prophanely, incontinently, or do any irreligious act whatsoever. likewise in a professor of the law, to maintain any point, on do any act, that tendeth to the weakning of the soveraign power, as a greater crime, than in another man: also in a man that hath such reputation for wisedome, as that his counsells are followed, or his actions imitated by many, his fact against the law, is a greater crime, than the same fact in another: for such men not onely commit crime, but teach it for law to all other men. and generally all crimes are the greater, by the scandall they give; that is to say, by becoming stumbling-blocks to the weak, that look not so much upon the way they go in, as upon the light that other men carry before them. laesae majestas also facts of hostility against the present state of the common-wealth, are greater crimes, than the same acts done to private men; for the dammage extends it selfe to all: such are the betraying of the strengths, or revealing of the secrets of the common-wealth to an enemy; also all attempts upon the representative of the common-wealth, be it a monarch, or an assembly; and all endeavours by word, or deed to diminish the authority of the same, either in the present time, or in succession: which crimes the latines understand by crimina laesae majestatis, and consist in designe, or act, contrary to a fundamentall law. bribery and false testimony likewise those crimes, which render judgements of no effect, are greater crimes, than injuries done to one, or a few persons; as to receive mony to give false judgement, or testimony, is a greater crime, than otherwise to deceive a man of the like, or a greater summe; because not onely he has wrong, that falls by such judgements; but all judgements are rendered uselesse, and occasion ministred to force, and private revenges. depeculation also robbery, and depeculation of the publique treasure, or revenues, is a greater crime, than the robbing, or defrauding of a private man; because to robbe the publique, is to robbe many at once. counterfeiting authority also the counterfeit usurpation of publique ministery, the counterfeiting of publique seales, or publique coine, than counterfeiting of a private mans person, or his seale; because the fraud thereof, extendeth to the dammage of many. crimes against private men compared of facts against the law, done to private men, the greater crime, is that, where the dammage in the common opinion of men, is most sensible. and therefore to kill against the law, is a greater crime, that any other injury, life preserved. and to kill with torment, greater, than simply to kill. and mutilation of a limbe, greater, than the spoyling a man of his goods. and the spoyling a man of his goods, by terrour of death, or wounds, than by clandestine surreption. and by clandestine surreption, than by consent fraudulently obtained. and the violation of chastity by force, greater, than by flattery. and of a woman married, than of a woman not married. for all these things are commonly so valued; though some men are more, and some lesse sensible of the same offence. but the law regardeth not the particular, but the generall inclination of mankind. and therefore the offence men take, from contumely, in words, or gesture, when they produce no other harme, than the present griefe of him that is reproached, hath been neglected in the lawes of the greeks, romans, and other both antient, and moderne common-wealths; supposing the true cause of such griefe to consist, not in the contumely, (which takes no hold upon men conscious of their own vertue,) but in the pusillanimity of him that is offended by it. also a crime against a private man, is much aggravated by the person, time, and place. for to kill ones parent, is a greater crime, than to kill another: for the parent ought to have the honour of a soveraign, (though he have surrendred his power to the civill law,) because he had it originally by nature. and to robbe a poore man, is a greater crime, than to robbe a rich man; because 'tis to the poore a more sensible dammage. and a crime committed in the time, or place appointed for devotion, is greater, than if committed at another time or place: for it proceeds from a greater contempt of the law. many other cases of aggravation, and extenuation might be added: but by these i have set down, it is obvious to every man, to take the altitude of any other crime proposed. publique crimes what lastly, because in almost all crimes there is an injury done, not onely to some private man, but also to the common-wealth; the same crime, when the accusation is in the name of the common-wealth, is called publique crime; and when in the name of a private man, a private crime; and the pleas according thereunto called publique, judicia publica, pleas of the crown; or private pleas. as in an accusation of murder, if the accuser be a private man, the plea is a private plea; if the accuser be the soveraign, the plea is a publique plea. chapter xxviii. of punishments, and rewards the definition of punishment "a punishment, is an evill inflicted by publique authority, on him that hath done, or omitted that which is judged by the same authority to be a transgression of the law; to the end that the will of men may thereby the better be disposed to obedience." right to punish whence derived before i inferre any thing from this definition, there is a question to be answered, of much importance; which is, by what door the right, or authority of punishing in any case, came in. for by that which has been said before, no man is supposed bound by covenant, not to resist violence; and consequently it cannot be intended, that he gave any right to another to lay violent hands upon his person. in the making of a common-wealth, every man giveth away the right of defending another; but not of defending himselfe. also he obligeth himselfe, to assist him that hath the soveraignty, in the punishing of another; but of himselfe not. but to covenant to assist the soveraign, in doing hurt to another, unlesse he that so covenanteth have a right to doe it himselfe, is not to give him a right to punish. it is manifest therefore that the right which the common-wealth (that is, he, or they that represent it) hath to punish, is not grounded on any concession, or gift of the subjects. but i have also shewed formerly, that before the institution of common-wealth, every man had a right to every thing, and to do whatsoever he thought necessary to his own preservation; subduing, hurting, or killing any man in order thereunto. and this is the foundation of that right of punishing, which is exercised in every common-wealth. for the subjects did not give the soveraign that right; but onely in laying down theirs, strengthned him to use his own, as he should think fit, for the preservation of them all: so that it was not given, but left to him, and to him onely; and (excepting the limits set him by naturall law) as entire, as in the condition of meer nature, and of warre of every one against his neighbour. private injuries, and revenges no punishments from the definition of punishment, i inferre, first, that neither private revenges, nor injuries of private men, can properly be stiled punishment; because they proceed not from publique authority. nor denyall of preferment secondly, that to be neglected, and unpreferred by the publique favour, is not a punishment; because no new evill is thereby on any man inflicted; he is onely left in the estate he was in before. nor pain inflicted without publique hearing thirdly, that the evill inflicted by publique authority, without precedent publique condemnation, is not to be stiled by the name of punishment; but of an hostile act; because the fact for which a man is punished, ought first to be judged by publique authority, to be a transgression of the law. nor pain inflicted by usurped power fourthly, that the evill inflicted by usurped power, and judges without authority from the soveraign, is not punishment; but an act of hostility; because the acts of power usurped, have not for author, the person condemned; and therefore are not acts of publique authority. nor pain inflicted without respect to the future good fifthly, that all evill which is inflicted without intention, or possibility of disposing the delinquent, or (by his example) other men, to obey the lawes, is not punishment; but an act of hostility; because without such an end, no hurt done is contained under that name. naturall evill consequences, no punishments sixthly, whereas to certain actions, there be annexed by nature, divers hurtfull consequences; as when a man in assaulting another, is himselfe slain, or wounded; or when he falleth into sicknesse by the doing of some unlawfull act; such hurt, though in respect of god, who is the author of nature, it may be said to be inflicted, and therefore a punishment divine; yet it is not contaned in the name of punishment in respect of men, because it is not inflicted by the authority of man. hurt inflicted, if lesse than the benefit of transgressing, is not punishment seventhly, if the harm inflicted be lesse than the benefit, or contentment that naturally followeth the crime committed, that harm is not within the definition; and is rather the price, or redemption, than the punishment of a crime: because it is of the nature of punishment, to have for end, the disposing of men to obey the law; which end (if it be lesse that the benefit of the transgression) it attaineth not, but worketh a contrary effect. where the punishment is annexed to the law, a greater hurt is not punishment, but hostility eighthly, if a punishment be determined and prescribed in the law it selfe, and after the crime committed, there be a greater punishment inflicted, the excesse is not punishment, but an act of hostility. for seeing the aym of punishment is not a revenge, but terrour; and the terrour of a great punishment unknown, is taken away by the declaration of a lesse, the unexpected addition is no part of the punishment. but where there is no punishment at all determined by the law, there whatsoever is inflicted, hath the nature of punishment. for he that goes about the violation of a law, wherein no penalty is determined, expecteth an indeterminate, that is to say, an arbitrary punishment. hurt inflicted for a fact done before the law, no punishment ninthly, harme inflicted for a fact done before there was a law that forbad it, is not punishment, but an act of hostility: for before the law, there is no transgression of the law: but punishment supposeth a fact judged, to have been a transgression of the law; therefore harme inflicted before the law made, is not punishment, but an act of hostility. the representative of the common-wealth unpunishable tenthly, hurt inflicted on the representative of the common-wealth, is not punishment, but an act of hostility: because it is of the nature of punishment, to be inflicted by publique authority, which is the authority only of the representative it self. hurt to revolted subjects is done by right of war, not by way of punishment lastly, harme inflicted upon one that is a declared enemy, fals not under the name of punishment: because seeing they were either never subject to the law, and therefore cannot transgresse it; or having been subject to it, and professing to be no longer so, by consequence deny they can transgresse it, all the harmes that can be done them, must be taken as acts of hostility. but in declared hostility, all infliction of evill is lawfull. from whence it followeth, that if a subject shall by fact, or word, wittingly, and deliberatly deny the authority of the representative of the common-wealth, (whatsoever penalty hath been formerly ordained for treason,) he may lawfully be made to suffer whatsoever the representative will: for in denying subjection, he denyes such punishment as by the law hath been ordained; and therefore suffers as an enemy of the common-wealth; that is, according to the will of the representative. for the punishments set down in the law, are to subjects, not to enemies; such as are they, that having been by their own act subjects, deliberately revolting, deny the soveraign power. the first, and most generall distribution of punishments, is into divine, and humane. of the former i shall have occasion, to speak, in a more convenient place hereafter. humane, are those punishments that be inflicted by the commandement of man; and are either corporall, or pecuniary, or ignominy, or imprisonment, or exile, or mixt of these. punishments corporall corporall punishment is that, which is inflicted on the body directly, and according to the intention of him that inflicteth it: such as are stripes, or wounds, or deprivation of such pleasures of the body, as were before lawfully enjoyed. capitall and of these, some be capitall, some lesse than capitall. capitall, is the infliction of death; and that either simply, or with torment. lesse than capitall, are stripes, wounds, chains, and any other corporall paine, not in its own nature mortall. for if upon the infliction of a punishment death follow not in the intention of the inflicter, the punishment is not be bee esteemed capitall, though the harme prove mortall by an accident not to be foreseen; in which case death is not inflicted, but hastened. pecuniary punishment, is that which consisteth not only in the deprivation of a summe of mony, but also of lands, or any other goods which are usually bought and sold for mony. and in case the law, that ordaineth such a punishment, be made with design to gather mony, from such as shall transgresse the same, it is not properly a punishment, but the price of priviledge, and exemption from the law, which doth not absolutely forbid the fact, but only to those that are not able to pay the mony: except where the law is naturall, or part of religion; for in that case it is not an exemption from the law, but a transgression of it. as where a law exacteth a pecuniary mulct, of them that take the name of god in vaine, the payment of the mulct, is not the price of a dispensation to sweare, but the punishment of the transgression of a law undispensable. in like manner if the law impose a summe of mony to be payd, to him that has been injured; this is but a satisfaction for the hurt done him; and extinguisheth the accusation of the party injured, not the crime of the offender. ignominy ignominy, is the infliction of such evill, as is made dishonorable; or the deprivation of such good, as is made honourable by the common-wealth. for there be some things honorable by nature; as the effects of courage, magnanimity, strength, wisdome, and other abilities of body and mind: others made honorable by the common-wealth; as badges, titles, offices, or any other singular marke of the soveraigns favour. the former, (though they may faile by nature, or accident,) cannot be taken away by a law; and therefore the losse of them is not punishment. but the later, may be taken away by the publique authority that made them honorable, and are properly punishments: such are degrading men condemned, of their badges, titles, and offices; or declaring them uncapable of the like in time to come. imprisonment imprisonment, is when a man is by publique authority deprived of liberty; and may happen from two divers ends; whereof one is the safe custody of a man accused; the other is the inflicting of paine on a man condemned. the former is not punishment; because no man is supposed to be punisht, before he be judicially heard, and declared guilty. and therefore whatsoever hurt a man is made to suffer by bonds, or restraint, before his cause be heard, over and above that which is necessary to assure his custody, is against the law of nature. but the later is punishment, because evill, and inflicted by publique authority, for somewhat that has by the same authority been judged a transgression of the law. under this word imprisonment, i comprehend all restraint of motion, caused by an externall obstacle, be it a house, which is called by the generall name of a prison; or an iland, as when men are said to be confined to it; or a place where men are set to worke, as in old time men have been condemned to quarries, and in these times to gallies; or be it a chaine, or any other such impediment. exile exile, (banishment) is when a man is for a crime, condemned to depart out of the dominion of the common-wealth, or out of a certaine part thereof; and during a prefixed time, or for ever, not to return into it: and seemeth not in its own nature, without other circumstances, to be a punishment; but rather an escape, or a publique commandement to avoid punishment by flight. and cicero sayes, there was never any such punishment ordained in the city of rome; but cals it a refuge of men in danger. for if a man banished, be neverthelesse permitted to enjoy his goods, and the revenue of his lands, the meer change of ayr is no punishment; nor does it tend to that benefit of the common-wealth, for which all punishments are ordained, (that is to say, to the forming of mens wils to the observation of the law;) but many times to the dammage of the common-wealth. for a banished man, is a lawfull enemy of the common-wealth that banished him; as being no more a member of the same. but if he be withall deprived of his lands, or goods, then the punishment lyeth not in the exile, but is to be reckoned amongst punishments pecuniary. the punishment of innocent subjects is contrary to the law of nature all punishments of innocent subjects, be they great or little, are against the law of nature; for punishment is only of transgression of the law, and therefore there can be no punishment of the innocent. it is therefore a violation, first, of that law of nature, which forbiddeth all men, in their revenges, to look at any thing but some future good: for there can arrive no good to the common-wealth, by punishing the innocent. secondly, of that, which forbiddeth ingratitude: for seeing all soveraign power, is originally given by the consent of every one of the subjects, to the end they should as long as they are obedient, be protected thereby; the punishment of the innocent, is a rendring of evill for good. and thirdly, of the law that commandeth equity; that is to say, an equall distribution of justice; which in punishing the innocent is not observed. but the harme done to innocents in war, not so but the infliction of what evill soever, on an innocent man, that is not a subject, if it be for the benefit of the common-wealth, and without violation of any former covenant, is no breach of the law of nature. for all men that are not subjects, are either enemies, or else they have ceased from being so, by some precedent covenants. but against enemies, whom the common-wealth judgeth capable to do them hurt, it is lawfull by the originall right of nature to make warre; wherein the sword judgeth not, nor doth the victor make distinction of nocent and innocent, as to the time past; nor has other respect of mercy, than as it conduceth to the good of his own people. and upon this ground it is, that also in subjects, who deliberatly deny the authority of the common-wealth established, the vengeance is lawfully extended, not onely to the fathers, but also to the third and fourth generation not yet in being, and consequently innocent of the fact, for which they are afflicted: because the nature of this offence, consisteth in the renouncing of subjection; which is a relapse into the condition of warre, commonly called rebellion; and they that so offend, suffer not as subjects, but as enemies. for rebellion, is but warre renewed. reward, is either salary, or grace reward, is either of gift, or by contract. when by contract, it is called salary, and wages; which is benefit due for service performed, or promised. when of gift, it is benefit proceeding from the grace of them that bestow it, to encourage, or enable men to do them service. and therefore when the soveraign of a common-wealth appointeth a salary to any publique office, he that receiveth it, is bound in justice to performe his office; otherwise, he is bound onely in honour, to acknowledgement, and an endeavour of requitall. for though men have no lawfull remedy, when they be commanded to quit their private businesse, to serve the publique, without reward, or salary; yet they are not bound thereto, by the law of nature, nor by the institution of the common-wealth, unlesse the service cannot otherwise be done; because it is supposed the soveraign may make use of all their means, insomuch as the most common souldier, may demand the wages of his warrefare, as a debt. benefits bestowed for fear, are not rewards the benefits which a soveraign bestoweth on a subject, for fear of some power, and ability he hath to do hurt to the common-wealth, are not properly rewards; for they are not salaryes; because there is in this case no contract supposed, every man being obliged already not to do the common-wealth disservice: nor are they graces; because they be extorted by feare, which ought not to be incident to the soveraign power: but are rather sacrifices, which the soveraign (considered in his naturall person, and not in the person of the common-wealth) makes, for the appeasing the discontent of him he thinks more potent than himselfe; and encourage not to obedience, but on the contrary, to the continuance, and increasing of further extortion. salaries certain and casuall and whereas some salaries are certain, and proceed from the publique treasure; and others uncertain, and casuall, proceeding from the execution of the office for which the salary is ordained; the later is in some cases hurtfull to the common-wealth; as in the case of judicature. for where the benefit of the judges, and ministers of a court of justice, ariseth for the multitude of causes that are brought to their cognisance, there must needs follow two inconveniences: one, is the nourishing of sutes; for the more sutes, the greater benefit: and another that depends on that, which is contention about jurisdiction; each court drawing to it selfe, as many causes as it can. but in offices of execution there are not those inconveniences; because their employment cannot be encreased by any endeavour of their own. and thus much shall suffice for the nature of punishment, and reward; which are, as it were, the nerves and tendons, that move the limbes and joynts of a common-wealth. hitherto i have set forth the nature of man, (whose pride and other passions have compelled him to submit himselfe to government;) together with the great power of his governour, whom i compared to leviathan, taking that comparison out of the two last verses of the one and fortieth of job; where god having set forth the great power of leviathan, called him king of the proud. "there is nothing," saith he, "on earth, to be compared with him. he is made so as not be afraid. hee seeth every high thing below him; and is king of all the children of pride." but because he is mortall, and subject to decay, as all other earthly creatures are; and because there is that in heaven, (though not on earth) that he should stand in fear of, and whose lawes he ought to obey; i shall in the next following chapters speak of his diseases, and the causes of his mortality; and of what lawes of nature he is bound to obey. chapter xxix. of those things that weaken, or tend to the dissolution of a common-wealth dissolution of common-wealths proceedeth from imperfect institution though nothing can be immortall, which mortals make; yet, if men had the use of reason they pretend to, their common-wealths might be secured, at least, from perishing by internall diseases. for by the nature of their institution, they are designed to live, as long as man-kind, or as the lawes of nature, or as justice it selfe, which gives them life. therefore when they come to be dissolved, not by externall violence, but intestine disorder, the fault is not in men, as they are the matter; but as they are the makers, and orderers of them. for men, as they become at last weary of irregular justling, and hewing one another, and desire with all their hearts, to conforme themselves into one firme and lasting edifice; so for want, both of the art of making fit laws, to square their actions by, and also of humility, and patience, to suffer the rude and combersome points of their present greatnesse to be taken off, they cannot without the help of a very able architect, be compiled, into any other than a crasie building, such as hardly lasting out their own time, must assuredly fall upon the heads of their posterity. amongst the infirmities therefore of a common-wealth, i will reckon in the first place, those that arise from an imperfect institution, and resemble the diseases of a naturall body, which proceed from a defectuous procreation. want of absolute power of which, this is one, "that a man to obtain a kingdome, is sometimes content with lesse power, than to the peace, and defence of the common-wealth is necessarily required." from whence it commeth to passe, that when the exercise of the power layd by, is for the publique safety to be resumed, it hath the resemblance of as unjust act; which disposeth great numbers of men (when occasion is presented) to rebell; in the same manner as the bodies of children, gotten by diseased parents, are subject either to untimely death, or to purge the ill quality, derived from their vicious conception, by breaking out into biles and scabbs. and when kings deny themselves some such necessary power, it is not alwayes (though sometimes) out of ignorance of what is necessary to the office they undertake; but many times out of a hope to recover the same again at their pleasure: wherein they reason not well; because such as will hold them to their promises, shall be maintained against them by forraign common-wealths; who in order to the good of their own subjects let slip few occasions to weaken the estate of their neighbours. so was thomas beckett archbishop of canterbury, supported against henry the second, by the pope; the subjection of ecclesiastiques to the common-wealth, having been dispensed with by william the conqueror at his reception, when he took an oath, not to infringe the liberty of the church. and so were the barons, whose power was by william rufus (to have their help in transferring the succession from his elder brother, to himselfe,) encreased to a degree, inconsistent with the soveraign power, maintained in their rebellion against king john, by the french. nor does this happen in monarchy onely. for whereas the stile of the antient roman common-wealth, was, the senate, and people of rome; neither senate, nor people pretended to the whole power; which first caused the seditions, of tiberius gracchus, caius gracchus, lucius saturnius, and others; and afterwards the warres between the senate and the people, under marius and sylla; and again under pompey and caesar, to the extinction of their democraty, and the setting up of monarchy. the people of athens bound themselves but from one onely action; which was, that no man on pain of death should propound the renewing of the warre for the island of salamis; and yet thereby, if solon had not caused to be given out he was mad, and afterwards in gesture and habit of a mad-man, and in verse, propounded it to the people that flocked about him, they had had an enemy perpetually in readinesse, even at the gates of their citie; such dammage, or shifts, are all common-wealths forced to, that have their power never so little limited. private judgement of good and evill in the second place, i observe the diseases of a common-wealth, that proceed from the poyson of seditious doctrines; whereof one is, "that every private man is judge of good and evill actions." this is true in the condition of meer nature, where there are no civill lawes; and also under civill government, in such cases as are not determined by the law. but otherwise, it is manifest, that the measure of good and evill actions, is the civill law; and the judge the legislator, who is alwayes representative of the common-wealth. from this false doctrine, men are disposed to debate with themselves, and dispute the commands of the common-wealth; and afterwards to obey, or disobey them, as in their private judgements they shall think fit. whereby the common-wealth is distracted and weakened. erroneous conscience another doctrine repugnant to civill society, is, that "whatsoever a man does against his conscience, is sinne;" and it dependeth on the presumption of making himself judge of good and evill. for a mans conscience, and his judgement is the same thing; and as the judgement, so also the conscience may be erroneous. therefore, though he that is subject to no civill law, sinneth in all he does against his conscience, because he has no other rule to follow but his own reason; yet it is not so with him that lives in a common-wealth; because the law is the publique conscience, by which he hath already undertaken to be guided. otherwise in such diversity, as there is of private consciences, which are but private opinions, the common-wealth must needs be distracted, and no man dare to obey the soveraign power, farther than it shall seem good in his own eyes. pretence of inspiration it hath been also commonly taught, "that faith and sanctity, are not to be attained by study and reason, but by supernaturall inspiration, or infusion," which granted, i see not why any man should render a reason of his faith; or why every christian should not be also a prophet; or why any man should take the law of his country, rather than his own inspiration, for the rule of his action. and thus wee fall again into the fault of taking upon us to judge of good and evill; or to make judges of it, such private men as pretend to be supernaturally inspired, to the dissolution of all civill government. faith comes by hearing, and hearing by those accidents, which guide us into the presence of them that speak to us; which accidents are all contrived by god almighty; and yet are not supernaturall, but onely, for the great number of them that concurre to every effect, unobservable. faith, and sanctity, are indeed not very frequent; but yet they are not miracles, but brought to passe by education, discipline, correction, and other naturall wayes, by which god worketh them in his elect, as such time as he thinketh fit. and these three opinions, pernicious to peace and government, have in this part of the world, proceeded chiefly from the tongues, and pens of unlearned divines; who joyning the words of holy scripture together, otherwise than is agreeable to reason, do what they can, to make men think, that sanctity and naturall reason, cannot stand together. subjecting the soveraign power to civill lawes a fourth opinion, repugnant to the nature of a common-wealth, is this, "that he that hath the soveraign power, is subject to the civill lawes." it is true, that soveraigns are all subjects to the lawes of nature; because such lawes be divine, and cannot by any man, or common-wealth be abrogated. but to those lawes which the soveraign himselfe, that is, which the common-wealth maketh, he is not subject. for to be subject to lawes, is to be subject to the common-wealth, that is to the soveraign representative, that is to himselfe; which is not subjection, but freedome from the lawes. which errour, because it setteth the lawes above the soveraign, setteth also a judge above him, and a power to punish him; which is to make a new soveraign; and again for the same reason a third, to punish the second; and so continually without end, to the confusion, and dissolution of the common-wealth. attributing of absolute propriety to the subjects a fifth doctrine, that tendeth to the dissolution of a common-wealth, is, "that every private man has an absolute propriety in his goods; such, as excludeth the right of the soveraign." every man has indeed a propriety that excludes the right of every other subject: and he has it onely from the soveraign power; without the protection whereof, every other man should have equall right to the same. but if the right of the soveraign also be excluded, he cannot performe the office they have put him into; which is, to defend them both from forraign enemies, and from the injuries of one another; and consequently there is no longer a common-wealth. and if the propriety of subjects, exclude not the right of the soveraign representative to their goods; much lesse to their offices of judicature, or execution, in which they represent the soveraign himselfe. dividing of the soveraign power there is a sixth doctrine, plainly, and directly against the essence of a common-wealth; and 'tis this, "that the soveraign power may be divided." for what is it to divide the power of a common-wealth, but to dissolve it; for powers divided mutually destroy each other. and for these doctrines, men are chiefly beholding to some of those, that making profession of the lawes, endeavour to make them depend upon their own learning, and not upon the legislative power. imitation of neighbour nations and as false doctrine, so also often-times the example of different government in a neighbouring nation, disposeth men to alteration of the forme already setled. so the people of the jewes were stirred up to reject god, and to call upon the prophet samuel, for a king after the manner of the nations; so also the lesser cities of greece, were continually disturbed, with seditions of the aristocraticall, and democraticall factions; one part of almost every common-wealth, desiring to imitate the lacedaemonians; the other, the athenians. and i doubt not, but many men, have been contented to see the late troubles in england, out of an imitation of the low countries; supposing there needed no more to grow rich, than to change, as they had done, the forme of their government. for the constitution of mans nature, is of it selfe subject to desire novelty: when therefore they are provoked to the same, by the neighbourhood also of those that have been enriched by it, it is almost impossible for them, not to be content with those that solicite them to change; and love the first beginnings, though they be grieved with the continuance of disorder; like hot blouds, that having gotten the itch, tear themselves with their own nayles, till they can endure the smart no longer. imitation of the greeks, and romans and as to rebellion in particular against monarchy; one of the most frequent causes of it, is the reading of the books of policy, and histories of the antient greeks, and romans; from which, young men, and all others that are unprovided of the antidote of solid reason, receiving a strong, and delightfull impression, of the great exploits of warre, atchieved by the conductors of their armies, receive withall a pleasing idea, of all they have done besides; and imagine their great prosperity, not to have proceeded from the aemulation of particular men, but from the vertue of their popular form of government: not considering the frequent seditions, and civill warres, produced by the imperfection of their policy. from the reading, i say, of such books, men have undertaken to kill their kings, because the greek and latine writers, in their books, and discourses of policy, make it lawfull, and laudable, for any man so to do; provided before he do it, he call him tyrant. for they say not regicide, that is, killing of a king, but tyrannicide, that is, killing of a tyrant is lawfull. from the same books, they that live under a monarch conceive an opinion, that the subjects in a popular common-wealth enjoy liberty; but that in a monarchy they are all slaves. i say, they that live under a monarchy conceive such an opinion; not they that live under a popular government; for they find no such matter. in summe, i cannot imagine, how anything can be more prejudiciall to a monarchy, than the allowing of such books to be publikely read, without present applying such correctives of discreet masters, as are fit to take away their venime; which venime i will not doubt to compare to the biting of a mad dogge, which is a disease the physicians call hydrophobia, or fear of water. for as he that is so bitten, has a continuall torment of thirst, and yet abhorreth water; and is in such an estate, as if the poyson endeavoured to convert him into a dogge: so when a monarchy is once bitten to the quick, by those democraticall writers, that continually snarle at that estate; it wanteth nothing more than a strong monarch, which neverthelesse out of a certain tyrannophobia, or feare of being strongly governed, when they have him, they abhorre. as here have been doctors, that hold there be three soules in a man; so there be also that think there may be more soules, (that is, more soveraigns,) than one, in a common-wealth; and set up a supremacy against the soveraignty; canons against lawes; and a ghostly authority against the civill; working on mens minds, with words and distinctions, that of themselves signifie nothing, but bewray (by their obscurity) that there walketh (as some think invisibly) another kingdome, as it were a kingdome of fayries, in the dark. now seeing it is manifest, that the civill power, and the power of the common-wealth is the same thing; and that supremacy, and the power of making canons, and granting faculties, implyeth a common-wealth; it followeth, that where one is soveraign, another supreme; where one can make lawes, and another make canons; there must needs be two common-wealths, of one & the same subjects; which is a kingdome divided in it selfe, and cannot stand. for notwithstanding the insignificant distinction of temporall, and ghostly, they are still two kingdomes, and every subject is subject to two masters. for seeing the ghostly power challengeth the right to declare what is sinne it challengeth by consequence to declare what is law, (sinne being nothing but the transgression of the law;) and again, the civill power challenging to declare what is law, every subject must obey two masters, who bothe will have their commands be observed as law; which is impossible. or, if it be but one kingdome, either the civill, which is the power of the common-wealth, must be subordinate to the ghostly; or the ghostly must be subordinate to the temporall and then there is no supremacy but the temporall. when therefore these two powers oppose one another, the common-wealth cannot but be in great danger of civill warre, and dissolution. for the civill authority being more visible, and standing in the cleerer light of naturall reason cannot choose but draw to it in all times a very considerable part of the people: and the spirituall, though it stand in the darknesse of schoole distinctions, and hard words; yet because the fear of darknesse, and ghosts, is greater than other fears, cannot want a party sufficient to trouble, and sometimes to destroy a common-wealth. and this is a disease which not unfitly may be compared to the epilepsie, or falling-sicknesse (which the jewes took to be one kind of possession by spirits) in the body naturall. for as in this disease, there is an unnaturall spirit, or wind in the head that obstructeth the roots of the nerves, and moving them violently, taketh away the motion which naturally they should have from the power of the soule in the brain, and thereby causeth violent, and irregular motions (which men call convulsions) in the parts; insomuch as he that is seized therewith, falleth down sometimes into the water, and sometimes into the fire, as a man deprived of his senses; so also in the body politique, when the spirituall power, moveth the members of a common-wealth, by the terrour of punishments, and hope of rewards (which are the nerves of it,) otherwise than by the civill power (which is the soule of the common-wealth) they ought to be moved; and by strange, and hard words suffocates the people, and either overwhelm the common-wealth with oppression, or cast it into the fire of a civill warre. mixt government sometimes also in the meerly civill government, there be more than one soule: as when the power of levying mony, (which is the nutritive faculty,) has depended on a generall assembly; the power of conduct and command, (which is the motive faculty,) on one man; and the power of making lawes, (which is the rationall faculty,) on the accidentall consent, not onely of those two, but also of a third; this endangereth the common-wealth, somtimes for want of consent to good lawes; but most often for want of such nourishment, as is necessary to life, and motion. for although few perceive, that such government, is not government, but division of the common-wealth into three factions, and call it mixt monarchy; yet the truth is, that it is not one independent common-wealth, but three independent factions; nor one representative person, but three. in the kingdome of god, there may be three persons independent, without breach of unity in god that reigneth; but where men reigne, that be subject to diversity of opinions, it cannot be so. and therefore if the king bear the person of the people, and the generall assembly bear also the person of the people, and another assembly bear the person of a part of the people, they are not one person, nor one soveraign, but three persons, and three soveraigns. to what disease in the naturall body of man, i may exactly compare this irregularity of a common-wealth, i know not. but i have seen a man, that had another man growing out of his side, with an head, armes, breast, and stomach, of his own: if he had had another man growing out of his other side, the comparison might then have been exact. want of mony hitherto i have named such diseases of a common-wealth, as are of the greatest, and most present danger. there be other, not so great; which neverthelesse are not unfit to be observed. as first, the difficulty of raising mony, for the necessary uses of the common-wealth; especially in the approach of warre. this difficulty ariseth from the opinion, that every subject hath of a propriety in his lands and goods, exclusive of the soveraigns right to the use of the same. from whence it commeth to passe, that the soveraign power, which foreseeth the necessities and dangers of the common-wealth, (finding the passage of mony to the publique treasure obstructed, by the tenacity of the people,) whereas it ought to extend it selfe, to encounter, and prevent such dangers in their beginnings, contracteth it selfe as long as it can, and when it cannot longer, struggles with the people by strategems of law, to obtain little summes, which not sufficing, he is fain at last violently to open the way for present supply, or perish; and being put often to these extremities, at last reduceth the people to their due temper; or else the common-wealth must perish. insomuch as we may compare this distemper very aptly to an ague; wherein, the fleshy parts being congealed, or by venomous matter obstructed; the veins which by their naturall course empty themselves into the heart, are not (as they ought to be) supplyed from the arteries, whereby there succeedeth at first a cold contraction, and trembling of the limbes; and afterwards a hot, and strong endeavour of the heart, to force a passage for the bloud; and before it can do that, contenteth it selfe with the small refreshments of such things as coole of a time, till (if nature be strong enough) it break at last the contumacy of the parts obstructed, and dissipateth the venome into sweat; or (if nature be too weak) the patient dyeth. monopolies and abuses of publicans again, there is sometimes in a common-wealth, a disease, which resembleth the pleurisie; and that is, when the treasure of the common-wealth, flowing out of its due course, is gathered together in too much abundance, in one, or a few private men, by monopolies, or by farmes of the publique revenues; in the same manner as the blood in a pleurisie, getting into the membrane of the breast, breedeth there an inflammation, accompanied with a fever, and painfull stitches. popular men also, the popularity of a potent subject, (unlesse the common-wealth have very good caution of his fidelity,) is a dangerous disease; because the people (which should receive their motion from the authority of the soveraign,) by the flattery, and by the reputation of an ambitious man, are drawn away from their obedience to the lawes, to follow a man, of whose vertues, and designes they have no knowledge. and this is commonly of more danger in a popular government, than in a monarchy; as it may easily be made believe, they are the people. by this means it was, that julius caesar, who was set up by the people against the senate, having won to himselfe the affections of his army, made himselfe master, both of senate and people. and this proceeding of popular, and ambitious men, is plain rebellion; and may be resembled to the effects of witchcraft. excessive greatnesse of a town, multitude of corporations another infirmity of a common-wealth, is the immoderate greatnesse of a town, when it is able to furnish out of its own circuit, the number, and expence of a great army: as also the great number of corporations; which are as it were many lesser common-wealths in the bowels of a greater, like wormes in the entrayles of a naturall man. liberty of disputing against soveraign power to which may be added, the liberty of disputing against absolute power, by pretenders to politicall prudence; which though bred for the most part in the lees of the people; yet animated by false doctrines, are perpetually medling with the fundamentall lawes, to the molestation of the common-wealth; like the little wormes, which physicians call ascarides. we may further adde, the insatiable appetite, or bulimia, of enlarging dominion; with the incurable wounds thereby many times received from the enemy; and the wens, of ununited conquests, which are many times a burthen, and with lesse danger lost, than kept; as also the lethargy of ease, and consumption of riot and vain expence. dissolution of the common-wealth lastly, when in a warre (forraign, or intestine,) the enemies got a final victory; so as (the forces of the common-wealth keeping the field no longer) there is no farther protection of subjects in their loyalty; then is the common-wealth dissolved, and every man at liberty to protect himselfe by such courses as his own discretion shall suggest unto him. for the soveraign, is the publique soule, giving life and motion to the common-wealth; which expiring, the members are governed by it no more, than the carcasse of a man, by his departed (though immortal) soule. for though the right of a soveraign monarch cannot be extinguished by the act of another; yet the obligation of the members may. for he that wants protection, may seek it anywhere; and when he hath it, is obliged (without fraudulent pretence of having submitted himselfe out of fear,) to protect his protection as long as he is able. but when the power of an assembly is once suppressed, the right of the same perisheth utterly; because the assembly it selfe is extinct; and consequently, there is no possibility for the soveraignty to re-enter. chapter xxx. of the office of the soveraign representative the procuration of the good of the people the office of the soveraign, (be it a monarch, or an assembly,) consisteth in the end, for which he was trusted with the soveraign power, namely the procuration of the safety of the people; to which he is obliged by the law of nature, and to render an account thereof to god, the author of that law, and to none but him. but by safety here, is not meant a bare preservation, but also all other contentments of life, which every man by lawfull industry, without danger, or hurt to the common-wealth, shall acquire to himselfe. by instruction & lawes and this is intended should be done, not by care applyed to individualls, further than their protection from injuries, when they shall complain; but by a generall providence, contained in publique instruction, both of doctrine, and example; and in the making, and executing of good lawes, to which individuall persons may apply their own cases. against the duty of a soveraign to relinquish any essentiall right of soveraignty or not to see the people taught the grounds of them and because, if the essentiall rights of soveraignty (specified before in the eighteenth chapter) be taken away, the common-wealth is thereby dissolved, and every man returneth into the condition, and calamity of a warre with every other man, (which is the greatest evill that can happen in this life;) it is the office of the soveraign, to maintain those rights entire; and consequently against his duty, first, to transferre to another, or to lay from himselfe any of them. for he that deserteth the means, deserteth the ends; and he deserteth the means, that being the soveraign, acknowledgeth himselfe subject to the civill lawes; and renounceth the power of supreme judicature; or of making warre, or peace by his own authority; or of judging of the necessities of the common-wealth; or of levying mony, and souldiers, when, and as much as in his own conscience he shall judge necessary; or of making officers, and ministers both of warre, and peace; or of appointing teachers, and examining what doctrines are conformable, or contrary to the defence, peace, and good of the people. secondly, it is against his duty, to let the people be ignorant, or mis-in-formed of the grounds, and reasons of those his essentiall rights; because thereby men are easie to be seduced, and drawn to resist him, when the common-wealth shall require their use and exercise. and the grounds of these rights, have the rather need to be diligently, and truly taught; because they cannot be maintained by any civill law, or terrour of legal punishment. for a civill law, that shall forbid rebellion, (and such is all resistance to the essentiall rights of soveraignty,) is not (as a civill law) any obligation, but by vertue onely of the law of nature, that forbiddeth the violation of faith; which naturall obligation if men know not, they cannot know the right of any law the soveraign maketh. and for the punishment, they take it but for an act of hostility; which when they think they have strength enough, they will endeavour by acts of hostility, to avoyd. objection of those that say there are no principles of reason for absolute soveraignty as i have heard some say, that justice is but a word, without substance; and that whatsoever a man can by force, or art, acquire to himselfe, (not onely in the condition of warre, but also in a common-wealth,) is his own, which i have already shewed to be false: so there be also that maintain, that there are no grounds, nor principles of reason, to sustain those essentiall rights, which make soveraignty absolute. for if there were, they would have been found out in some place, or other; whereas we see, there has not hitherto been any common-wealth, where those rights have been acknowledged, or challenged. wherein they argue as ill, as if the savage people of america, should deny there were any grounds, or principles of reason, so to build a house, as to last as long as the materials, because they never yet saw any so well built. time, and industry, produce every day new knowledge. and as the art of well building, is derived from principles of reason, observed by industrious men, that had long studied the nature of materials, and the divers effects of figure, and proportion, long after mankind began (though poorly) to build: so, long time after men have begun to constitute common-wealths, imperfect, and apt to relapse into disorder, there may, principles of reason be found out, by industrious meditation, to make use of them, or be neglected by them, or not, concerneth my particular interest, at this day, very little. but supposing that these of mine are not such principles of reason; yet i am sure they are principles from authority of scripture; as i shall make it appear, when i shall come to speak of the kingdome of god, (administred by moses,) over the jewes, his peculiar people by covenant. objection from the incapacity of the vulgar but they say again, that though the principles be right, yet common people are not of capacity enough to be made to understand them. i should be glad, that the rich, and potent subjects of a kingdome, or those that are accounted the most learned, were no lesse incapable than they. but all men know, that the obstructions to this kind of doctrine, proceed not so much from the difficulty of the matter, as from the interest of them that are to learn. potent men, digest hardly any thing that setteth up a power to bridle their affections; and learned men, any thing that discovereth their errours, and thereby lesseneth their authority: whereas the common-peoples minds, unlesse they be tainted with dependance on the potent, or scribbled over with the opinions of their doctors, are like clean paper, fit to receive whatsoever by publique authority shall be imprinted in them. shall whole nations be brought to acquiesce in the great mysteries of christian religion, which are above reason; and millions of men be made believe, that the same body may be in innumerable places, at one and the same time, which is against reason; and shall not men be able, by their teaching, and preaching, protected by the law, to make that received, which is so consonant to reason, that any unprejudicated man, needs no more to learn it, than to hear it? i conclude therefore, that in the instruction of the people in the essentiall rights (which are the naturall, and fundamentall lawes) of soveraignty, there is no difficulty, (whilest a soveraign has his power entire,) but what proceeds from his own fault, or the fault of those whom he trusteth in the administration of the common-wealth; and consequently, it is his duty, to cause them so to be instructed; and not onely his duty, but his benefit also, and security, against the danger that may arrive to himselfe in his naturall person, from rebellion. subjects are to be taught, not to affect change of government and (to descend to particulars) the people are to be taught, first, that they ought not to be in love with any forme of government they see in their neighbour nations, more than with their own, nor (whatsoever present prosperity they behold in nations that are otherwise governed than they,) to desire change. for the prosperity of a people ruled by an aristocraticall, or democraticall assembly, commeth not from aristocracy, nor from democracy, but from the obedience, and concord of the subjects; nor do the people flourish in a monarchy, because one man has the right to rule them, but because they obey him. take away in any kind of state, the obedience, (and consequently the concord of the people,) and they shall not onely not flourish, but in short time be dissolved. and they that go about by disobedience, to doe no more than reforme the common-wealth, shall find they do thereby destroy it; like the foolish daughters of peleus (in the fable;) which desiring to renew the youth of their decrepit father, did by the counsell of medea, cut him in pieces, and boyle him, together with strange herbs, but made not of him a new man. this desire of change, is like the breach of the first of gods commandements: for there god says, non habebis deos alienos; thou shalt not have the gods of other nations; and in another place concerning kings, that they are gods. nor adhere (against the soveraign) to popular men secondly, they are to be taught, that they ought not to be led with admiration of the vertue of any of their fellow subjects, how high soever he stand, nor how conspicuously soever he shine in the common-wealth; nor of any assembly, (except the soveraign assembly,) so as to deferre to them any obedience, or honour, appropriate to the soveraign onely, whom (in their particular stations) they represent; nor to receive any influence from them, but such as is conveighed by them from the soveraign authority. for that soveraign, cannot be imagined to love his people as he ought, that is not jealous of them, but suffers them by the flattery of popular men, to be seduced from their loyalty, as they have often been, not onely secretly, but openly, so as to proclaime marriage with them in facie ecclesiae by preachers; and by publishing the same in the open streets: which may fitly be compared to the violation of the second of the ten commandements. nor to dispute the soveraign power thirdly, in consequence to this, they ought to be informed, how great fault it is, to speak evill of the soveraign representative, (whether one man, or an assembly of men;) or to argue and dispute his power, or any way to use his name irreverently, whereby he may be brought into contempt with his people, and their obedience (in which the safety of the common-wealth consisteth) slackened. which doctrine the third commandement by resemblance pointeth to. and to have dayes set apart to learn their duty fourthly, seeing people cannot be taught this, nor when 'tis taught, remember it, nor after one generation past, so much as know in whom the soveraign power is placed, without setting a part from their ordinary labour, some certain times, in which they may attend those that are appointed to instruct them; it is necessary that some such times be determined, wherein they may assemble together, and (after prayers and praises given to god, the soveraign of soveraigns) hear those their duties told them, and the positive lawes, such as generally concern them all, read and expounded, and be put in mind of the authority that maketh them lawes. to this end had the jewes every seventh day, a sabbath, in which the law was read and expounded; and in the solemnity whereof they were put in mind, that their king was god; that having created the world in six days, he rested the seventh day; and by their resting on it from their labour, that that god was their king, which redeemed them from their servile, and painfull labour in egypt, and gave them a time, after they had rejoyced in god, to take joy also in themselves, by lawfull recreation. so that the first table of the commandements, is spent all, in setting down the summe of gods absolute power; not onely as god, but as king by pact, (in peculiar) of the jewes; and may therefore give light, to those that have the soveraign power conferred on them by the consent of men, to see what doctrine they ought to teach their subjects. and to honour their parents and because the first instruction of children, dependeth on the care of their parents; it is necessary that they should be obedient to them, whilest they are under their tuition; and not onely so, but that also afterwards (as gratitude requireth,) they acknowledge the benefit of their education, by externall signes of honour. to which end they are to be taught, that originally the father of every man was also his soveraign lord, with power over him of life and death; and that the fathers of families, when by instituting a common-wealth, they resigned that absolute power, yet it was never intended, they should lose the honour due unto them for their education. for to relinquish such right, was not necessary to the institution of soveraign power; nor would there be any reason, why any man should desire to have children, or take the care to nourish, and instruct them, if they were afterwards to have no other benefit from them, than from other men. and this accordeth with the fifth commandement. and to avoyd doing of injury: again, every soveraign ought to cause justice to be taught, which (consisting in taking from no man what is his) is as much as to say, to cause men to be taught not to deprive their neighbour, by violence, or fraud, of any thing which by the soveraign authority is theirs. of things held in propriety, those that are dearest to a man are his own life, & limbs; and in the next degree, (in most men,) those that concern conjugall affection; and after them riches and means of living. therefore the people are to be taught, to abstain from violence to one anothers person, by private revenges; from violation of conjugall honour; and from forcibly rapine, and fraudulent surreption of one anothers goods. for which purpose also it is necessary they be shewed the evill consequences of false judgement, by corruption either of judges or witnesses, whereby the distinction of propriety is taken away, and justice becomes of no effect: all which things are intimated in the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth commandements. and to do all this sincerely from the heart lastly, they are to be taught, that not onely the unjust facts, but the designes and intentions to do them, (though by accident hindred,) are injustice; which consisteth in the pravity of the will, as well as in the irregularity of the act. and this is the intention of the tenth commandement, and the summe of the second table; which is reduced all to this one commandement of mutuall charity, "thou shalt love thy neighbour as thy selfe:" as the summe of the first table is reduced to "the love of god;" whom they had then newly received as their king. the use of universities as for the means, and conduits, by which the people may receive this instruction, wee are to search, by what means so may opinions, contrary to the peace of man-kind, upon weak and false principles, have neverthelesse been so deeply rooted in them. i mean those, which i have in the precedent chapter specified: as that men shall judge of what is lawfull and unlawfull, not by the law it selfe, but by their own private judgements; that subjects sinne in obeying the commands of the common-wealth, unlesse they themselves have first judged them to be lawfull: that their propriety in their riches is such, as to exclude the dominion, which the common-wealth hath over the same: that it is lawfull for subjects to kill such, as they call tyrants: that the soveraign power may be divided, and the like; which come to be instilled into the people by this means. they whom necessity, or covetousnesse keepeth attent on their trades, and labour; and they, on the other side, whom superfluity, or sloth carrieth after their sensuall pleasures, (which two sorts of men take up the greatest part of man-kind,) being diverted from the deep meditation, which the learning of truth, not onely in the matter of naturall justice, but also of all other sciences necessarily requireth, receive the notions of their duty, chiefly from divines in the pulpit, and partly from such of their neighbours, or familiar acquaintance, as having the faculty of discoursing readily, and plausibly, seem wiser and better learned in cases of law, and conscience, than themselves. and the divines, and such others as make shew of learning, derive their knowledge from the universities, and from the schooles of law, or from the books, which by men eminent in those schooles, and universities have been published. it is therefore manifest, that the instruction of the people, dependeth wholly, on the right teaching of youth in the universities. but are not (may some men say) the universities of england learned enough already to do that? or is it you will undertake to teach the universities? hard questions. yet to the first, i doubt not to answer; that till towards the later end of henry the eighth, the power of the pope, was alwayes upheld against the power of the common-wealth, principally by the universities; and that the doctrines maintained by so many preachers, against the soveraign power of the king, and by so many lawyers, and others, that had their education there, is a sufficient argument, that though the universities were not authors of those false doctrines, yet they knew not how to plant the true. for in such a contradiction of opinions, it is most certain, that they have not been sufficiently instructed; and 'tis no wonder, if they yet retain a relish of that subtile liquor, wherewith they were first seasoned, against the civill authority. but to the later question, it is not fit, nor needfull for me to say either i, or no: for any man that sees what i am doing, may easily perceive what i think. the safety of the people, requireth further, from him, or them that have the soveraign power, that justice be equally administred to all degrees of people; that is, that as well the rich, and mighty, as poor and obscure persons, may be righted of the injuries done them; so as the great, may have no greater hope of impunity, when they doe violence, dishonour, or any injury to the meaner sort, than when one of these, does the like to one of them: for in this consisteth equity; to which, as being a precept of the law of nature, a soveraign is as much subject, as any of the meanest of his people. all breaches of the law, are offences against the common-wealth: but there be some, that are also against private persons. those that concern the common-wealth onely, may without breach of equity be pardoned; for every man may pardon what is done against himselfe, according to his own discretion. but an offence against a private man, cannot in equity be pardoned, without the consent of him that is injured; or reasonable satisfaction. the inequality of subjects, proceedeth from the acts of soveraign power; and therefore has no more place in the presence of the soveraign; that is to say, in a court of justice, then the inequality between kings, and their subjects, in the presence of the king of kings. the honour of great persons, is to be valued for their beneficence, and the aydes they give to men of inferiour rank, or not at all. and the violences, oppressions, and injuries they do, are not extenuated, but aggravated by the greatnesse of their persons; because they have least need to commit them. the consequences of this partiality towards the great, proceed in this manner. impunity maketh insolence; insolence hatred; and hatred, an endeavour to pull down all oppressing and contumelious greatnesse, though with the ruine of the common-wealth. equall taxes to equall justice, appertaineth also the equall imposition of taxes; the equality whereof dependeth not on the equality of riches, but on the equality of the debt, that every man oweth to the common-wealth for his defence. it is not enough, for a man to labour for the maintenance of his life; but also to fight, (if need be,) for the securing of his labour. they must either do as the jewes did after their return from captivity, in re-edifying the temple, build with one hand, and hold the sword in the other; or else they must hire others to fight for them. for the impositions that are layd on the people by the soveraign power, are nothing else but the wages, due to them that hold the publique sword, to defend private men in the exercise of severall trades, and callings. seeing then the benefit that every one receiveth thereby, is the enjoyment of life, which is equally dear to poor, and rich; the debt which a poor man oweth them that defend his life, is the same which a rich man oweth for the defence of his; saving that the rich, who have the service of the poor, may be debtors not onely for their own persons, but for many more. which considered, the equality of imposition, consisteth rather in the equality of that which is consumed, than of the riches of the persons that consume the same. for what reason is there, that he which laboureth much, and sparing the fruits of his labour, consumeth little, should be more charged, then he that living idlely, getteth little, and spendeth all he gets; seeing the one hath no more protection from the common-wealth, then the other? but when the impositions, are layd upon those things which men consume, every man payeth equally for what he useth: nor is the common-wealth defrauded, by the luxurious waste of private men. publique charity and whereas many men, by accident unevitable, become unable to maintain themselves by their labour; they ought not to be left to the charity of private persons; but to be provided for, (as far-forth as the necessities of nature require,) by the lawes of the common-wealth. for as it is uncharitablenesse in any man, to neglect the impotent; so it is in the soveraign of a common-wealth, to expose them to the hazard of such uncertain charity. prevention of idlenesse but for such as have strong bodies, the case is otherwise: they are to be forced to work; and to avoyd the excuse of not finding employment, there ought to be such lawes, as may encourage all manner of arts; as navigation, agriculture, fishing, and all manner of manifacture that requires labour. the multitude of poor, and yet strong people still encreasing, they are to be transplanted into countries not sufficiently inhabited: where neverthelesse, they are not to exterminate those they find there; but constrain them to inhabit closer together, and not range a great deal of ground, to snatch what they find; but to court each little plot with art and labour, to give them their sustenance in due season. and when all the world is overchargd with inhabitants, then the last remedy of all is warre; which provideth for every man, by victory, or death. good lawes what to the care of the soveraign, belongeth the making of good lawes. but what is a good law? by a good law, i mean not a just law: for no law can be unjust. the law is made by the soveraign power, and all that is done by such power, is warranted, and owned by every one of the people; and that which every man will have so, no man can say is unjust. it is in the lawes of a common-wealth, as in the lawes of gaming: whatsoever the gamesters all agree on, is injustice to none of them. a good law is that, which is needfull, for the good of the people, and withall perspicuous. such as are necessary for the use of lawes, (which are but rules authorised) is not to bind the people from all voluntary actions; but to direct and keep them in such a motion, as not to hurt themselves by their own impetuous desires, rashnesse, or indiscretion, as hedges are set, not to stop travellers, but to keep them in the way. and therefore a law that is not needfull, having not the true end of a law, is not good. a law may be conceived to be good, when it is for the benefit of the soveraign; though it be not necessary for the people; but it is not so. for the good of the soveraign and people, cannot be separated. it is a weak soveraign, that has weak subjects; and a weak people, whose soveraign wanteth power to rule them at his will. unnecessary lawes are not good lawes; but trapps for mony: which where the right of soveraign power is acknowledged, are superfluous; and where it is not acknowledged, unsufficient to defend the people. such as are perspicuous the perspicuity, consisteth not so much in the words of the law it selfe, as in a declaration of the causes, and motives, for which it was made. that is it, that shewes us the meaning of the legislator, and the meaning of the legislator known, the law is more easily understood by few, than many words. for all words, are subject to ambiguity; and therefore multiplication of words in the body of the law, is multiplication of ambiguity: besides it seems to imply, (by too much diligence,) that whosoever can evade the words, is without the compasse of the law. and this is a cause of many unnecessary processes. for when i consider how short were the lawes of antient times; and how they grew by degrees still longer; me thinks i see a contention between the penners, and pleaders of the law; the former seeking to circumscribe the later; and the later to evade their circumscriptions; and that the pleaders have got the victory. it belongeth therefore to the office of a legislator, (such as is in all common-wealths the supreme representative, be it one man, or an assembly,) to make the reason perspicuous, why the law was made; and the body of the law it selfe, as short, but in as proper, and significant termes, as may be. punishments it belongeth also to the office of the soveraign, to make a right application of punishments, and rewards. and seeing the end of punishing is not revenge, and discharge of choler; but correction, either of the offender, or of others by his example; the severest punishments are to be inflicted for those crimes, that are of most danger to the publique; such as are those which proceed from malice to the government established; those that spring from contempt of justice; those that provoke indignation in the multitude; and those, which unpunished, seem authorised, as when they are committed by sonnes, servants, or favorites of men in authority: for indignation carrieth men, not onely against the actors, and authors of injustice; but against all power that is likely to protect them; as in the case of tarquin; when for the insolent act of one of his sonnes, he was driven out of rome, and the monarchy it selfe dissolved. but crimes of infirmity; such as are those which proceed from great provocation, from great fear, great need, or from ignorance whether the fact be a great crime, or not, there is place many times for lenity, without prejudice to the common-wealth; and lenity when there is such place for it, is required by the law of nature. the punishment of the leaders, and teachers in a commotion; not the poore seduced people, when they are punished, can profit the common-wealth by their example. to be severe to the people, is to punish that ignorance, which may in great part be imputed to the soveraign, whose fault it was, they were no better instructed. rewards in like manner it belongeth to the office, and duty of the soveraign, to apply his rewards alwayes so, as there may arise from them benefit to the common-wealth: wherein consisteth their use, and end; and is then done, when they that have well served the common-wealth, are with as little expence of the common treasure, as is possible, so well recompenced, as others thereby may be encouraged, both to serve the same as faithfully as they can, and to study the arts by which they may be enabled to do it better. to buy with mony, or preferment, from a popular ambitious subject, to be quiet, and desist from making ill impressions in the mindes of the people, has nothing of the nature of reward; (which is ordained not for disservice, but for service past;) nor a signe of gratitude, but of fear: nor does it tend to the benefit, but to the dammage of the publique. it is a contention with ambition, like that of hercules with the monster hydra, which having many heads, for every one that was vanquished, there grew up three. for in like manner, when the stubbornnesse of one popular man, is overcome with reward, there arise many more (by the example) that do the same mischiefe, in hope of like benefit: and as all sorts of manifacture, so also malice encreaseth by being vendible. and though sometimes a civill warre, may be differred, by such wayes as that, yet the danger growes still the greater, and the publique ruine more assured. it is therefore against the duty of the soveraign, to whom the publique safety is committed, to reward those that aspire to greatnesse by disturbing the peace of their country, and not rather to oppose the beginnings of such men, with a little danger, than after a longer time with greater. counsellours another businesse of the soveraign, is to choose good counsellours; i mean such, whose advice he is to take in the government of the common-wealth. for this word counsell, consilium, corrupted from considium, is a large signification, and comprehendeth all assemblies of men that sit together, not onely to deliberate what is to be done hereafter, but also to judge of facts past, and of law for the present. i take it here in the first sense onely: and in this sense, there is no choyce of counsell, neither in a democracy, nor aristocracy; because the persons counselling are members of the person counselled. the choyce of counsellours therefore is to monarchy; in which, the soveraign that endeavoureth not to make choyce of those, that in every kind are the most able, dischargeth not his office as he ought to do. the most able counsellours, are they that have least hope of benefit by giving evill counsell, and most knowledge of those things that conduce to the peace, and defence of the common-wealth. it is a hard matter to know who expecteth benefit from publique troubles; but the signes that guide to a just suspicion, is the soothing of the people in their unreasonable, or irremediable grievances, by men whose estates are not sufficient to discharge their accustomed expences, and may easily be observed by any one whom it concerns to know it. but to know, who has most knowledge of the publique affaires, is yet harder; and they that know them, need them a great deale the lesse. for to know, who knowes the rules almost of any art, is a great degree of the knowledge of the same art; because no man can be assured of the truth of anothers rules, but he that is first taught to understand them. but the best signes of knowledge of any art, are, much conversing in it, and constant good effects of it. good counsell comes not by lot, nor by inheritance; and therefore there is no more reason to expect good advice from the rich, or noble, in matter of state, than in delineating the dimensions of a fortresse; unlesse we shall think there needs no method in the study of the politiques, (as there does in the study of geometry,) but onely to be lookers on; which is not so. for the politiques is the harder study of the two. whereas in these parts of europe, it hath been taken for a right of certain persons, to have place in the highest councell of state by inheritance; it is derived from the conquests of the antient germans; wherein many absolute lords joyning together to conquer other nations, would not enter in to the confederacy, without such priviledges, as might be marks of difference in time following, between their posterity, and the posterity of their subjects; which priviledges being inconsistent with the soveraign power, by the favour of the soveraign, they may seem to keep; but contending for them as their right, they must needs by degrees let them go, and have at last no further honour, than adhaereth naturally to their abilities. and how able soever be the counsellours in any affaire, the benefit of their counsell is greater, when they give every one his advice, and reasons of it apart, than when they do it in an assembly, by way of orations; and when they have praemeditated, than when they speak on the sudden; both because they have more time, to survey the consequences of action; and are lesse subject to be carried away to contradiction, through envy, emulation, or other passions arising from the difference of opinion. the best counsell, in those things that concern not other nations, but onely the ease, and benefit the subjects may enjoy, by lawes that look onely inward, is to be taken from the generall informations, and complaints of the people of each province, who are best acquainted with their own wants, and ought therefore, when they demand nothing in derogation of the essentiall rights of soveraignty, to be diligently taken notice of. for without those essentiall rights, (as i have often before said,) the common-wealth cannot at all subsist. commanders a commander of an army in chiefe, if he be not popular, shall not be beloved, nor feared as he ought to be by his army; and consequently cannot performe that office with good successe. he must therefore be industrious, valiant, affable, liberall and fortunate, that he may gain an opinion both of sufficiency, and of loving his souldiers. this is popularity, and breeds in the souldiers both desire, and courage, to recommend themselves to his favour; and protects the severity of the generall, in punishing (when need is) the mutinous, or negligent souldiers. but this love of souldiers, (if caution be not given of the commanders fidelity,) is a dangerous thing to soveraign power; especially when it is in the hands of an assembly not popular. it belongeth therefore to the safety of the people, both that they be good conductors, and faithfull subjects, to whom the soveraign commits his armies. but when the soveraign himselfe is popular, that is, reverenced and beloved of his people, there is no danger at all from the popularity of a subject. for souldiers are never so generally unjust, as to side with their captain; though they love him, against their soveraign, when they love not onely his person, but also his cause. and therefore those, who by violence have at any time suppressed the power of their lawfull soveraign, before they could settle themselves in his place, have been alwayes put to the trouble of contriving their titles, to save the people from the shame of receiving them. to have a known right to soveraign power, is so popular a quality, as he that has it needs no more, for his own part, to turn the hearts of his subjects to him, but that they see him able absolutely to govern his own family: nor, on the part of his enemies, but a disbanding of their armies. for the greatest and most active part of mankind, has never hetherto been well contented with the present. concerning the offices of one soveraign to another, which are comprehended in that law, which is commonly called the law of nations, i need not say any thing in this place; because the law of nations, and the law of nature, is the same thing. and every soveraign hath the same right, in procuring the safety of his people, that any particular man can have, in procuring the safety of his own body. and the same law, that dictateth to men that have no civil government, what they ought to do, and what to avoyd in regard of one another, dictateth the same to common-wealths, that is, to the consciences of soveraign princes, and soveraign assemblies; there being no court of naturall justice, but in the conscience onely; where not man, but god raigneth; whose lawes, (such of them as oblige all mankind,) in respect of god, as he is the author of nature, are naturall; and in respect of the same god, as he is king of kings, are lawes. but of the kingdome of god, as king of kings, and as king also of a peculiar people, i shall speak in the rest of this discourse. chapter xxxi. of the kingdome of god by nature the scope of the following chapters that the condition of meer nature, that is to say, of absolute liberty, such as is theirs, that neither are soveraigns, nor subjects, is anarchy, and the condition of warre: that the praecepts, by which men are guided to avoyd that condition, are the lawes of nature: that a common-wealth, without soveraign power, is but a word, without substance, and cannot stand: that subjects owe to soveraigns, simple obedience, in all things, wherein their obedience is not repugnant to the lawes of god, i have sufficiently proved, in that which i have already written. there wants onely, for the entire knowledge of civill duty, to know what are those lawes of god. for without that, a man knows not, when he is commanded any thing by the civill power, whether it be contrary to the law of god, or not: and so, either by too much civill obedience, offends the divine majesty, or through feare of offending god, transgresses the commandements of the common-wealth. to avoyd both these rocks, it is necessary to know what are the lawes divine. and seeing the knowledge of all law, dependeth on the knowledge of the soveraign power; i shall say something in that which followeth, of the kingdome of god. who are subjects in the kingdome of god "god is king, let the earth rejoice," saith the psalmist. (psal. . ). and again, "god is king though the nations be angry; and he that sitteth on the cherubins, though the earth be moved." (psal. . ). whether men will or not, they must be subject alwayes to the divine power. by denying the existence, or providence of god, men may shake off their ease, but not their yoke. but to call this power of god, which extendeth it selfe not onely to man, but also to beasts, and plants, and bodies inanimate, by the name of kingdome, is but a metaphoricall use of the word. for he onely is properly said to raigne, that governs his subjects, by his word, and by promise of rewards to those that obey it, and by threatning them with punishment that obey it not. subjects therefore in the kingdome of god, are not bodies inanimate, nor creatures irrationall; because they understand no precepts as his: nor atheists; nor they that believe not that god has any care of the actions of mankind; because they acknowledge no word for his, nor have hope of his rewards, or fear of his threatnings. they therefore that believe there is a god that governeth the world, and hath given praecepts, and propounded rewards, and punishments to mankind, are gods subjects; all the rest, are to be understood as enemies. a threefold word of god, reason, revelation, prophecy to rule by words, requires that such words be manifestly made known; for else they are no lawes: for to the nature of lawes belongeth a sufficient, and clear promulgation, such as may take away the excuse of ignorance; which in the lawes of men is but of one onely kind, and that is, proclamation, or promulgation by the voyce of man. but god declareth his lawes three wayes; by the dictates of naturall reason, by revelation, and by the voyce of some man, to whom by the operation of miracles, he procureth credit with the rest. from hence there ariseth a triple word of god, rational, sensible, and prophetique: to which correspondeth a triple hearing; right reason, sense supernaturall, and faith. as for sense supernaturall, which consisteth in revelation, or inspiration, there have not been any universall lawes so given, because god speaketh not in that manner, but to particular persons, and to divers men divers things. a twofold kingdome of god, naturall and prophetique from the difference between the other two kinds of gods word, rationall, and prophetique, there may be attributed to god, a two-fold kingdome, naturall, and prophetique: naturall, wherein he governeth as many of mankind as acknowledge his providence, by the naturall dictates of right reason; and prophetique, wherein having chosen out one peculiar nation (the jewes) for his subjects, he governed them, and none but them, not onely by naturall reason, but by positive lawes, which he gave them by the mouths of his holy prophets. of the naturall kingdome of god i intend to speak in this chapter. the right of gods soveraignty is derived from his omnipotence the right of nature, whereby god reigneth over men, and punisheth those that break his lawes, is to be derived, not from his creating them, as if he required obedience, as of gratitude for his benefits; but from his irresistible power. i have formerly shewn, how the soveraign right ariseth from pact: to shew how the same right may arise from nature, requires no more, but to shew in what case it is never taken away. seeing all men by nature had right to all things, they had right every one to reigne over all the rest. but because this right could not be obtained by force, it concerned the safety of every one, laying by that right, to set up men (with soveraign authority) by common consent, to rule and defend them: whereas if there had been any man of power irresistible; there had been no reason, why he should not by that power have ruled, and defended both himselfe, and them, according to his own discretion. to those therefore whose power is irresistible, the dominion of all men adhaereth naturally by their excellence of power; and consequently it is from that power, that the kingdome over men, and the right of afflicting men at his pleasure, belongeth naturally to god almighty; not as creator, and gracious; but as omnipotent. and though punishment be due for sinne onely, because by that word is understood affliction for sinne; yet the right of afflicting, is not alwayes derived from mens sinne, but from gods power. sinne not the cause of all affliction this question, "why evill men often prosper, and good men suffer adversity," has been much disputed by the antient, and is the same with this of ours, "by what right god dispenseth the prosperities and adversities of this life;" and is of that difficulty, as it hath shaken the faith, not onely of the vulgar, but of philosophers, and which is more, of the saints, concerning the divine providence. "how good," saith david, "is the god of israel to those that are upright in heart; and yet my feet were almost gone, my treadings had well-nigh slipt; for i was grieved at the wicked, when i saw the ungodly in such prosperity." and job, how earnestly does he expostulate with god, for the many afflictions he suffered, notwithstanding his righteousnesse? this question in the case of job, is decided by god himselfe, not by arguments derived from job's sinne, but his own power. for whereas the friends of job drew their arguments from his affliction to his sinne, and he defended himselfe by the conscience of his innocence, god himselfe taketh up the matter, and having justified the affliction by arguments drawn from his power, such as this "where was thou when i layd the foundations of the earth," and the like, both approved job's innocence, and reproved the erroneous doctrine of his friends. conformable to this doctrine is the sentence of our saviour, concerning the man that was born blind, in these words, "neither hath this man sinned, nor his fathers; but that the works of god might be made manifest in him." and though it be said "that death entred into the world by sinne," (by which is meant that if adam had never sinned, he had never dyed, that is, never suffered any separation of his soule from his body,) it follows not thence, that god could not justly have afflicted him, though he had not sinned, as well as he afflicteth other living creatures, that cannot sinne. divine lawes having spoken of the right of gods soveraignty, as grounded onely on nature; we are to consider next, what are the divine lawes, or dictates of naturall reason; which lawes concern either the naturall duties of one man to another, or the honour naturally due to our divine soveraign. the first are the same lawes of nature, of which i have spoken already in the . and . chapters of this treatise; namely, equity, justice, mercy, humility, and the rest of the morall vertues. it remaineth therefore that we consider, what praecepts are dictated to men, by their naturall reason onely, without other word of god, touching the honour and worship of the divine majesty. honour and worship what honour consisteth in the inward thought, and opinion of the power, and goodnesse of another: and therefore to honour god, is to think as highly of his power and goodnesse, as is possible. and of that opinion, the externall signes appearing in the words, and actions of men, are called worship; which is one part of that which the latines understand by the word cultus: for cultus signifieth properly, and constantly, that labour which a man bestowes on any thing, with a purpose to make benefit by it. now those things whereof we make benefit, are either subject to us, and the profit they yeeld, followeth the labour we bestow upon them, as a naturall effect; or they are not subject to us, but answer our labour, according to their own wills. in the first sense the labour bestowed on the earth, is called culture; and the education of children a culture of their mindes. in the second sense, where mens wills are to be wrought to our purpose, not by force, but by compleasance, it signifieth as much as courting, that is, a winning of favour by good offices; as by praises, by acknowledging their power, and by whatsoever is pleasing to them from whom we look for any benefit. and this is properly worship: in which sense publicola, is understood for a worshipper of the people, and cultus dei, for the worship of god. severall signes of honour from internall honour, consisting in the opinion of power and goodnesse, arise three passions; love, which hath reference to goodnesse; and hope, and fear, that relate to power: and three parts of externall worship; praise, magnifying, and blessing: the subject of praise, being goodnesse; the subject of magnifying, and blessing, being power, and the effect thereof felicity. praise, and magnifying are significant both by words, and actions: by words, when we say a man is good, or great: by actions, when we thank him for his bounty, and obey his power. the opinion of the happinesse of another, can onely be expressed by words. worship naturall and arbitrary there be some signes of honour, (both in attributes and actions,) that be naturally so; as amongst attributes, good, just, liberall, and the like; and amongst actions, prayers, thanks, and obedience. others are so by institution, or custome of men; and in some times and places are honourable; in others dishonourable; in others indifferent: such as are the gestures in salutation, prayer, and thanksgiving, in different times and places, differently used. the former is naturall; the later arbitrary worship. worship commanded and free and of arbitrary worship, there bee two differences: for sometimes it is a commanded, sometimes voluntary worship: commanded, when it is such as hee requireth, who is worshipped: free, when it is such as the worshipper thinks fit. when it is commanded, not the words, or gestures, but the obedience is the worship. but when free, the worship consists in the opinion of the beholders: for if to them the words, or actions by which we intend honour, seem ridiculous, and tending to contumely; they are not worship; because a signe is not a signe to him that giveth it, but to him to whom it is made; that is, to the spectator. worship publique and private again, there is a publique, and a private worship. publique, is the worship that a common-wealth performeth, as one person. private, is that which a private person exhibiteth. publique, in respect of the whole common-wealth, is free; but in respect of particular men it is not so. private, is in secret free; but in the sight of the multitude, it is never without some restraint, either from the lawes, or from the opinion of men; which is contrary to the nature of liberty. the end of worship the end of worship amongst men, is power. for where a man seeth another worshipped he supposeth him powerfull, and is the readier to obey him; which makes his power greater. but god has no ends: the worship we do him, proceeds from our duty, and is directed according to our capacity, by those rules of honour, that reason dictateth to be done by the weak to the more potent men, in hope of benefit, for fear of dammage, or in thankfulnesse for good already received from them. attributes of divine honour that we may know what worship of god is taught us by the light of nature, i will begin with his attributes. where, first, it is manifest, we ought to attribute to him existence: for no man can have the will to honour that, which he thinks not to have any beeing. secondly, that those philosophers, who sayd the world, or the soule of the world was god, spake unworthily of him; and denyed his existence: for by god, is understood the cause of the world; and to say the world is god, is to say there is no cause of it, that is, no god. thirdly, to say the world was not created, but eternall, (seeing that which is eternall has no cause,) is to deny there is a god. fourthly, that they who attributing (as they think) ease to god, take from him the care of mankind; take from him his honour: for it takes away mens love, and fear of him; which is the root of honour. fifthly, in those things that signifie greatnesse, and power; to say he is finite, is not to honour him: for it is not a signe of the will to honour god, to attribute to him lesse than we can; and finite, is lesse than we can; because to finite, it is easie to adde more. therefore to attribute figure to him, is not honour; for all figure is finite: nor to say we conceive, and imagine, or have an idea of him, in our mind: for whatsoever we conceive is finite: not to attribute to him parts, or totality; which are the attributes onely of things finite: nor to say he is this, or that place: for whatsoever is in place, is bounded, and finite: nor that he is moved, or resteth: for both these attributes ascribe to him place: nor that there be more gods than one; because it implies them all finite: for there cannot be more than one infinite: nor to ascribe to him (unlesse metaphorically, meaning not the passion, but the effect) passions that partake of griefe; as repentance, anger, mercy: or of want; as appetite, hope, desire; or of any passive faculty: for passion, is power limited by somewhat else. and therefore when we ascribe to god a will, it is not to be understood, as that of man, for a rationall appetite; but as the power, by which he effecteth every thing. likewise when we attribute to him sight, and other acts of sense; as also knowledge, and understanding; which in us is nothing else, but a tumult of the mind, raised by externall things that presse the organicall parts of mans body: for there is no such thing in god; and being things that depend on naturall causes, cannot be attributed to him. hee that will attribute to god, nothing but what is warranted by naturall reason, must either use such negative attributes, as infinite, eternall, incomprehensible; or superlatives, as most high, most great, and the like; or indefinite, as good, just, holy, creator; and in such sense, as if he meant not to declare what he is, (for that were to circumscribe him within the limits of our fancy,) but how much wee admire him, and how ready we would be to obey him; which is a signe of humility, and of a will to honour him as much as we can: for there is but one name to signifie our conception of his nature, and that is, i am: and but one name of his relation to us, and that is god; in which is contained father, king, and lord. actions that are signes of divine honour concerning the actions of divine worship, it is a most generall precept of reason, that they be signes of the intention to honour god; such as are, first, prayers: for not the carvers, when they made images, were thought to make them gods; but the people that prayed to them. secondly, thanksgiving; which differeth from prayer in divine worship, no otherwise, than that prayers precede, and thanks succeed the benefit; the end both of the one, and the other, being to acknowledge god, for author of all benefits, as well past, as future. thirdly, gifts; that is to say, sacrifices, and oblations, (if they be of the best,) are signes of honour: for they are thanksgivings. fourthly, not to swear by any but god, is naturally a signe of honour: for it is a confession that god onely knoweth the heart; and that no mans wit, or strength can protect a man against gods vengence on the perjured. fifthly, it is a part of rationall worship, to speak considerately of god; for it argues a fear of him, and fear, is a confession of his power. hence followeth, that the name of god is not to be used rashly, and to no purpose; for that is as much, as in vain: and it is to no purpose; unlesse it be by way of oath, and by order of the common-wealth, to make judgements certain; or between common-wealths, to avoyd warre. and that disputing of gods nature is contrary to his honour: for it is supposed, that in this naturall kingdome of god, there is no other way to know any thing, but by naturall reason; that is, from the principles of naturall science; which are so farre from teaching us any thing of gods nature, as they cannot teach us our own nature, nor the nature of the smallest creature living. and therefore, when men out of the principles of naturall reason, dispute of the attributes of god, they but dishonour him: for in the attributes which we give to god, we are not to consider the signification of philosophicall truth; but the signification of pious intention, to do him the greatest honour we are able. from the want of which consideration, have proceeded the volumes of disputation about the nature of god, that tend not to his honour, but to the honour of our own wits, and learning; and are nothing else but inconsiderate, and vain abuses of his sacred name. sixthly, in prayers, thanksgivings, offerings and sacrifices, it is a dictate of naturall reason, that they be every one in his kind the best, and most significant of honour. as for example, that prayers, and thanksgiving, be made in words and phrases, not sudden, nor light, nor plebeian; but beautifull and well composed; for else we do not god as much honour as we can. and therefore the heathens did absurdly, to worship images for gods: but their doing it in verse, and with musick, both of voyce, and instruments, was reasonable. also that the beasts they offered in sacrifice, and the gifts they offered, and their actions in worshipping, were full of submission, and commemorative of benefits received, was according to reason, as proceeding from an intention to honour him. seventhly, reason directeth not onely to worship god in secret; but also, and especially, in publique, and in the sight of men: for without that, (that which in honour is most acceptable) the procuring others to honour him, is lost. lastly, obedience to his lawes (that is, in this case to the lawes of nature,) is the greatest worship of all. for as obedience is more acceptable to god than sacrifice; so also to set light by his commandements, is the greatest of all contumelies. and these are the lawes of that divine worship, which naturall reason dictateth to private men. publique worship consisteth in uniformity but seeing a common-wealth is but one person, it ought also to exhibite to god but one worship; which then it doth, when it commandeth it to be exhibited by private men, publiquely. and this is publique worship; the property whereof, is to be uniforme: for those actions that are done differently, by different men, cannot be said to be a publique worship. and therefore, where many sorts of worship be allowed, proceeding from the different religions of private men, it cannot be said there is any publique worship, nor that the common-wealth is of any religion at all. all attributes depend on the lawes civill and because words (and consequently the attributes of god) have their signification by agreement, and constitution of men; those attributes are to be held significative of honour, that men intend shall so be; and whatsoever may be done by the wills of particular men, where there is no law but reason, may be done by the will of the common-wealth, by lawes civill. and because a common-wealth hath no will, nor makes no lawes, but those that are made by the will of him, or them that have the soveraign power; it followeth, that those attributes which the soveraign ordaineth, in the worship of god, for signes of honour, ought to be taken and used for such, by private men in their publique worship. not all actions but because not all actions are signes by constitution; but some are naturally signes of honour, others of contumely, these later (which are those that men are ashamed to do in the sight of them they reverence) cannot be made by humane power a part of divine worship; nor the former (such as are decent, modest, humble behaviour) ever be separated from it. but whereas there be an infinite number of actions, and gestures, of an indifferent nature; such of them as the common-wealth shall ordain to be publiquely and universally in use, as signes of honour, and part of gods worship, are to be taken and used for such by the subjects. and that which is said in the scripture, "it is better to obey god than men," hath place in the kingdome of god by pact, and not by nature. naturall punishments having thus briefly spoken of the naturall kingdome of god, and his naturall lawes, i will adde onely to this chapter a short declaration of his naturall punishments. there is no action of man in this life, that is not the beginning of so long a chayn of consequences, as no humane providence, is high enough, to give a man a prospect to the end. and in this chayn, there are linked together both pleasing and unpleasing events; in such manner, as he that will do any thing for his pleasure, must engage himselfe to suffer all the pains annexed to it; and these pains, are the naturall punishments of those actions, which are the beginning of more harme that good. and hereby it comes to passe, that intemperance, is naturally punished with diseases; rashnesse, with mischances; injustice, with the violence of enemies; pride, with ruine; cowardise, with oppression; negligent government of princes, with rebellion; and rebellion, with slaughter. for seeing punishments are consequent to the breach of lawes; naturall punishments must be naturally consequent to the breach of the lawes of nature; and therfore follow them as their naturall, not arbitrary effects. the conclusion of the second part and thus farre concerning the constitution, nature, and right of soveraigns; and concerning the duty of subjects, derived from the principles of naturall reason. and now, considering how different this doctrine is, from the practise of the greatest part of the world, especially of these western parts, that have received their morall learning from rome, and athens; and how much depth of morall philosophy is required, in them that have the administration of the soveraign power; i am at the point of believing this my labour, as uselesse, and the common-wealth of plato; for he also is of opinion that it is impossible for the disorders of state, and change of governments by civill warre, ever to be taken away, till soveraigns be philosophers. but when i consider again, that the science of naturall justice, is the onely science necessary for soveraigns, and their principall ministers; and that they need not be charged with the sciences mathematicall, (as by plato they are,) further, than by good lawes to encourage men to the study of them; and that neither plato, nor any other philosopher hitherto, hath put into order, and sufficiently, or probably proved all the theoremes of morall doctrine, that men may learn thereby, both how to govern, and how to obey; i recover some hope, that one time or other, this writing of mine, may fall into the hands of a soveraign, who will consider it himselfe, (for it is short, and i think clear,) without the help of any interested, or envious interpreter; and by the exercise of entire soveraignty, in protecting the publique teaching of it, convert this truth of speculation, into the utility of practice. part iii. of a christian common-wealth chapter xxxii. of the principles of christian politiques the word of god delivered by prophets is the main principle of christian politiques i have derived the rights of soveraigne power, and the duty of subjects hitherto, from the principles of nature onely; such as experience has found true, or consent (concerning the use of words) has made so; that is to say, from the nature of men, known to us by experience, and from definitions (of such words as are essentiall to all politicall reasoning) universally agreed on. but in that i am next to handle, which is the nature and rights of a christian common-wealth, whereof there dependeth much upon supernaturall revelations of the will of god; the ground of my discourse must be, not only the naturall word of god, but also the propheticall. neverthelesse, we are not to renounce our senses, and experience; nor (that which is the undoubted word of god) our naturall reason. for they are the talents which he hath put into our hands to negotiate, till the coming again of our blessed saviour; and therefore not to be folded up in the napkin of an implicate faith, but employed in the purchase of justice, peace, and true religion, for though there be many things in gods word above reason; that is to say, which cannot by naturall reason be either demonstrated, or confuted; yet there is nothing contrary to it; but when it seemeth so, the fault is either in our unskilfull interpretation, or erroneous ratiocination. therefore, when any thing therein written is too hard for our examination, wee are bidden to captivate our understanding to the words; and not to labour in sifting out a philosophicall truth by logick, of such mysteries as are not comprehensible, nor fall under any rule of naturall science. for it is with the mysteries of our religion, as with wholsome pills for the sick, which swallowed whole, have the vertue to cure; but chewed, are for the most part cast up again without effect. what it is to captivate the understanding but by the captivity of our understanding, is not meant a submission of the intellectual faculty, to the opinion of any other man; but of the will to obedience, where obedience is due. for sense, memory, understanding, reason, and opinion are not in our power to change; but alwaies, and necessarily such, as the things we see, hear, and consider suggest unto us; and therefore are not effects of our will, but our will of them. we then captivate our understanding and reason, when we forbear contradiction; when we so speak, as (by lawfull authority) we are commanded; and when we live accordingly; which in sum, is trust, and faith reposed in him that speaketh, though the mind be incapable of any notion at all from the words spoken. how god speaketh to men when god speaketh to man, it must be either immediately; or by mediation of another man, to whom he had formerly spoken by himself immediately. how god speaketh to a man immediately, may be understood by those well enough, to whom he hath so spoken; but how the same should be understood by another, is hard, if not impossible to know. for if a man pretend to me, that god hath spoken to him supernaturally, and immediately, and i make doubt of it, i cannot easily perceive what argument he can produce, to oblige me to beleeve it. it is true, that if he be my soveraign, he may oblige me to obedience, so, as not by act or word to declare i beleeve him not; but not to think any otherwise then my reason perswades me. but if one that hath not such authority over me, shall pretend the same, there is nothing that exacteth either beleefe, or obedience. for to say that god hath spoken to him in the holy scripture, is not to say god hath spoken to him immediately, but by mediation of the prophets, or of the apostles, or of the church, in such manner as he speaks to all other christian men. to say he hath spoken to him in a dream, is no more than to say he dreamed that god spake to him; which is not of force to win beleef from any man, that knows dreams are for the most part naturall, and may proceed from former thoughts; and such dreams as that, from selfe conceit, and foolish arrogance, and false opinion of a mans own godlinesse, or other vertue, by which he thinks he hath merited the favour of extraordinary revelation. to say he hath seen a vision, or heard a voice, is to say, that he hath dreamed between sleeping and waking: for in such manner a man doth many times naturally take his dream for a vision, as not having well observed his own slumbering. to say he speaks by supernaturall inspiration, is to say he finds an ardent desire to speak, or some strong opinion of himself, for which he can alledge no naturall and sufficient reason. so that though god almighty can speak to a man, by dreams, visions, voice, and inspiration; yet he obliges no man to beleeve he hath so done to him that pretends it; who (being a man), may erre, and (which is more) may lie. by what marks prophets are known how then can he, to whom god hath never revealed his wil immediately (saving by the way of natural reason) know when he is to obey, or not to obey his word, delivered by him, that sayes he is a prophet? ( kings ) of prophets, of whom the k. of israel asked counsel, concerning the warre he made against ramoth gilead, only micaiah was a true one.( kings ) the prophet that was sent to prophecy against the altar set up by jeroboam, though a true prophet, and that by two miracles done in his presence appears to be a prophet sent from god, was yet deceived by another old prophet, that perswaded him as from the mouth of god, to eat and drink with him. if one prophet deceive another, what certainty is there of knowing the will of god, by other way than that of reason? to which i answer out of the holy scripture, that there be two marks, by which together, not asunder, a true prophet is to be known. one is the doing of miracles; the other is the not teaching any other religion than that which is already established. asunder (i say) neither of these is sufficient. (deut. v. , , , , ) "if a prophet rise amongst you, or a dreamer of dreams, and shall pretend the doing of a miracle, and the miracle come to passe; if he say, let us follow strange gods, which thou hast not known, thou shalt not hearken to him, &c. but that prophet and dreamer of dreams shall be put to death, because he hath spoken to you to revolt from the lord your god." in which words two things are to be observed, first, that god wil not have miracles alone serve for arguments, to approve the prophets calling; but (as it is in the third verse) for an experiment of the constancy of our adherence to himself. for the works of the egyptian sorcerers, though not so great as those of moses, yet were great miracles. secondly, that how great soever the miracle be, yet if it tend to stir up revolt against the king, or him that governeth by the kings authority, he that doth such miracle, is not to be considered otherwise than as sent to make triall of their allegiance. for these words, "revolt from the lord your god," are in this place equivalent to "revolt from your king." for they had made god their king by pact at the foot of mount sinai; who ruled them by moses only; for he only spake with god, and from time to time declared gods commandements to the people. in like manner, after our saviour christ had made his disciples acknowledge him for the messiah, (that is to say, for gods anointed, whom the nation of the jews daily expected for their king, but refused when he came,) he omitted not to advertise them of the danger of miracles. "there shall arise," (saith he) "false christs, and false prophets, and shall doe great wonders and miracles, even to the seducing (if it were possible) of the very elect." (mat. . ) by which it appears, that false prophets may have the power of miracles; yet are wee not to take their doctrin for gods word. st. paul says further to the galatians, that "if himself, or an angell from heaven preach another gospel to them, than he had preached, let him be accursed." (gal. . ) that gospel was, that christ was king; so that all preaching against the power of the king received, in consequence to these words, is by st. paul accursed. for his speech is addressed to those, who by his preaching had already received jesus for the christ, that is to say, for king of the jews. the marks of a prophet in the old law, miracles, and doctrine conformable to the law and as miracles, without preaching that doctrine which god hath established; so preaching the true doctrine, without the doing of miracles, is an unsufficient argument of immediate revelation. for if a man that teacheth not false doctrine, should pretend to bee a prophet without shewing any miracle, he is never the more to bee regarded for his pretence, as is evident by deut. . v. , . "if thou say in thy heart, how shall we know that the word (of the prophet) is not that which the lord hath spoken. when the prophet shall have spoken in the name of the lord, that which shall not come to passe, that's the word which the lord hath not spoken, but the prophet has spoken it out of the pride of his own heart, fear him not." but a man may here again ask, when the prophet hath foretold a thing, how shal we know whether it will come to passe or not? for he may foretel it as a thing to arrive after a certain long time, longer then the time of mans life; or indefinitely, that it will come to passe one time or other: in which case this mark of a prophet is unusefull; and therefore the miracles that oblige us to beleeve a prophet, ought to be confirmed by an immediate, or a not long deferr'd event. so that it is manifest, that the teaching of the religion which god hath established, and the showing of a present miracle, joined together, were the only marks whereby the scripture would have a true prophet, that is to say immediate revelation to be acknowledged; neither of them being singly sufficient to oblige any other man to regard what he saith. miracles ceasing, prophets cease, the scripture supplies their place seeing therefore miracles now cease, we have no sign left, whereby to acknowledge the pretended revelations, or inspirations of any private man; nor obligation to give ear to any doctrine, farther than it is conformable to the holy scriptures, which since the time of our saviour, supply the want of all other prophecy; and from which, by wise and careful ratiocination, all rules and precepts necessary to the knowledge of our duty both to god and man, without enthusiasme, or supernaturall inspiration, may easily be deduced. and this scripture is it, out of which i am to take the principles of my discourse, concerning the rights of those that are the supream govenors on earth, of christian common-wealths; and of the duty of christian subjects towards their soveraigns. and to that end, i shall speak in the next chapter, or the books, writers, scope and authority of the bible. chapter xxxiii. of the number, antiquity, scope, authority, and interpreters of the books of holy scriptures of the books of holy scripture by the books of holy scripture, are understood those, which ought to be the canon, that is to say, the rules of christian life. and because all rules of life, which men are in conscience bound to observe, are laws; the question of the scripture, is the question of what is law throughout all christendome, both naturall, and civill. for though it be not determined in scripture, what laws every christian king shall constitute in his own dominions; yet it is determined what laws he shall not constitute. seeing therefore i have already proved, that soveraigns in their own dominions are the sole legislators; those books only are canonicall, that is, law, in every nation, which are established for such by the soveraign authority. it is true, that god is the soveraign of all soveraigns; and therefore, when he speaks to any subject, he ought to be obeyed, whatsoever any earthly potentate command to the contrary. but the question is not of obedience to god, but of when, and what god hath said; which to subjects that have no supernaturall revelation, cannot be known, but by that naturall reason, which guided them, for the obtaining of peace and justice, to obey the authority of their severall common-wealths; that is to say, of their lawfull soveraigns. according to this obligation, i can acknowledge no other books of the old testament, to be holy scripture, but those which have been commanded to be acknowledged for such, by the authority of the church of england. what books these are, is sufficiently known, without a catalogue of them here; and they are the same that are acknowledged by st. jerome, who holdeth the rest, namely, the wisdome of solomon, ecclesiasticus, judith, tobias, the first and second of maccabees, (though he had seen the first in hebrew) and the third and fourth of esdras, for apocrypha. of the canonicall, josephus a learned jew, that wrote in the time of the emperor domitian, reckoneth twenty two, making the number agree with the hebrew alphabet. st. jerome does the same, though they reckon them in different manner. for josephus numbers five books of moses, thirteen of prophets, that writ the history of their own times (which how it agrees with the prophets writings contained in the bible wee shall see hereafter), and four of hymnes and morall precepts. but st. jerome reckons five books of moses, eight of prophets, and nine of other holy writ, which he calls of hagiographa. the septuagint, who were . learned men of the jews, sent for by ptolemy king of egypt, to translate the jewish law, out of the hebrew into the greek, have left us no other for holy scripture in the greek tongue, but the same that are received in the church of england. as for the books of the new testament, they are equally acknowledged for canon by all christian churches, and by all sects of christians, that admit any books at all for canonicall. their antiquity who were the originall writers of the severall books of holy scripture, has not been made evident by any sufficient testimony of other history, (which is the only proof of matter of fact); nor can be by any arguments of naturall reason; for reason serves only to convince the truth (not of fact, but) of consequence. the light therefore that must guide us in this question, must be that which is held out unto us from the bookes themselves: and this light, though it show us not the writer of every book, yet it is not unusefull to give us knowledge of the time, wherein they were written. the pentateuch not written by moses and first, for the pentateuch, it is not argument enough that they were written by moses, because they are called the five books of moses; no more than these titles, the book of joshua, the book of judges, the book of ruth, and the books of the kings, are arguments sufficient to prove, that they were written by joshua, by the judges, by ruth, and by the kings. for in titles of books, the subject is marked, as often as the writer. the history of livy, denotes the writer; but the history of scanderbeg, is denominated from the subject. we read in the last chapter of deuteronomie, ver. . concerning the sepulcher of moses, "that no man knoweth of his sepulcher to this day," that is, to the day wherein those words were written. it is therefore manifest, that those words were written after his interrement. for it were a strange interpretation, to say moses spake of his own sepulcher (though by prophecy), that it was not found to that day, wherein he was yet living. but it may perhaps be alledged, that the last chapter only, not the whole pentateuch, was written by some other man, but the rest not: let us therefore consider that which we find in the book of genesis, chap. . ver. "and abraham passed through the land to the place of sichem, unto the plain of moreh, and the canaanite was then in the land;" which must needs bee the words of one that wrote when the canaanite was not in the land; and consequently, not of moses, who dyed before he came into it. likewise numbers . ver. . the writer citeth another more ancient book, entituled, the book of the warres of the lord, wherein were registred the acts of moses, at the red-sea, and at the brook of arnon. it is therefore sufficiently evident, that the five books of moses were written after his time, though how long after it be not so manifest. but though moses did not compile those books entirely, and in the form we have them; yet he wrote all that which hee is there said to have written: as for example, the volume of the law, which is contained, as it seemeth in the of deuteronomie, and the following chapters to the . which was also commanded to be written on stones, in their entry into the land of canaan. (deut. . ) and this did moses himself write, and deliver to the priests and elders of israel, to be read every seventh year to all israel, at their assembling in the feast of tabernacles. and this is that law which god commanded, that their kings (when they should have established that form of government) should take a copy of from the priests and levites to lay in the side of the arke; (deut. . ) and the same which having been lost, was long time after found again by hilkiah, and sent to king josias, who causing it to be read to the people, renewed the covenant between god and them. ( king. . & . , , ) the book of joshua written after his time that the book of joshua was also written long after the time of joshua, may be gathered out of many places of the book it self. joshua had set up twelve stones in the middest of jordan, for a monument of their passage; (josh . ) of which the writer saith thus, "they are there unto this day;" (josh . ) for "unto this day", is a phrase that signifieth a time past, beyond the memory of man. in like manner, upon the saying of the lord, that he had rolled off from the people the reproach of egypt, the writer saith, "the place is called gilgal unto this day;" which to have said in the time of joshua had been improper. so also the name of the valley of achor, from the trouble that achan raised in the camp, (josh. . ) the writer saith, "remaineth unto this day;" which must needs bee therefore long after the time of joshua. arguments of this kind there be many other; as josh. . . . . . . . . the booke of judges and ruth written long after the captivity the same is manifest by like arguments of the book of judges, chap. . , . . . . and ruth . . but especially judg. . . where it is said, that jonathan "and his sonnes were priests to the tribe of dan, untill the day of the captivity of the land." the like of the bookes of samuel that the books of samuel were also written after his own time, there are the like arguments, sam. . . . , . . . & . . where, after david had adjudged equall part of the spoiles, to them that guarded the ammunition, with them that fought, the writer saith, "he made it a statute and an ordinance to israel to this day." ( . sam. . .) again, when david (displeased, that the lord had slain uzzah, for putting out his hand to sustain the ark,) called the place perez-uzzah, the writer saith, it is called so "to this day": the time therefore of the writing of that book, must be long after the time of the fact; that is, long after the time of david. the books of the kings, and the chronicles as for the two books of the kings, and the two books of the chronicles, besides the places which mention such monuments, as the writer saith, remained till his own days; such as are kings . . . . . . . . kings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . chron. . . . . it is argument sufficient they were written after the captivity in babylon, that the history of them is continued till that time. for the facts registred are alwaies more ancient than such books as make mention of, and quote the register; as these books doe in divers places, referring the reader to the chronicles of the kings of juda, to the chronicles of the kings of israel, to the books of the prophet samuel, or the prophet nathan, of the prophet ahijah; to the vision of jehdo, to the books of the prophet serveiah, and of the prophet addo. ezra and nehemiah the books of esdras and nehemiah were written certainly after their return from captivity; because their return, the re-edification of the walls and houses of jerusalem, the renovation of the covenant, and ordination of their policy are therein contained. esther the history of queen esther is of the time of the captivity; and therefore the writer must have been of the same time, or after it. job the book of job hath no mark in it of the time wherein it was written: and though it appear sufficiently (exekiel . , and james . .) that he was no fained person; yet the book it self seemeth not to be a history, but a treatise concerning a question in ancient time much disputed, "why wicked men have often prospered in this world, and good men have been afflicted;" and it is the most probably, because from the beginning, to the third verse of the third chapter, where the complaint of job beginneth, the hebrew is (as st. jerome testifies) in prose; and from thence to the sixt verse of the last chapter in hexameter verses; and the rest of that chapter again in prose. so that the dispute is all in verse; and the prose is added, but as a preface in the beginning, and an epilogue in the end. but verse is no usuall stile of such, as either are themselves in great pain, as job; or of such as come to comfort them, as his friends; but in philosophy, especially morall philosophy, in ancient time frequent. the psalter the psalmes were written the most part by david, for the use of the quire. to these are added some songs of moses, and other holy men; and some of them after the return from the captivity; as the . and the . whereby it is manifest that the psalter was compiled, and put into the form it now hath, after the return of the jews from babylon. the proverbs the proverbs, being a collection of wise and godly sayings, partly of solomon, partly of agur the son of jakeh; and partly of the mother of king lemuel, cannot probably be thought to have been collected by solomon, rather then by agur, or the mother of lemues; and that, though the sentences be theirs, yet the collection or compiling them into this one book, was the work of some other godly man, that lived after them all. ecclesiastes and the canticles the books of ecclesiastes and the canticles have nothing that was not solomons, except it be the titles, or inscriptions. for "the words of the preacher, the son of david, king in jerusalem;" and, "the song of songs, which is solomon's," seem to have been made for distinctions sake, then, when the books of scripture were gathered into one body of the law; to the end, that not the doctrine only, but the authors also might be extant. the prophets of the prophets, the most ancient, are sophoniah, jonas, amos, hosea, isaiah and michaiah, who lived in the time of amaziah, and azariah, otherwise ozias, kings of judah. but the book of jonas is not properly a register of his prophecy, (for that is contained in these few words, "fourty dayes and ninivy shall be destroyed,") but a history or narration of his frowardenesse and disputing gods commandements; so that there is small probability he should be the author, seeing he is the subject of it. but the book of amos is his prophecy. jeremiah, abdias, nahum, and habakkuk prophecyed in the time of josiah. ezekiel, daniel, aggeus, and zacharias, in the captivity. when joel and malachi prophecyed, is not evident by their writings. but considering the inscriptions, or titles of their books, it is manifest enough, that the whole scripture of the old testament, was set forth in the form we have it, after the return of the jews from their captivity in babylon, and before the time of ptolemaeus philadelphus, that caused it to bee translated into greek by seventy men, which were sent him out of judea for that purpose. and if the books of apocrypha (which are recommended to us by the church, though not for canonicall, yet for profitable books for our instruction) may in this point be credited, the scripture was set forth in the form wee have it in, by esdras; as may appear by that which he himself saith, in the second book, chapt. . verse , , &c. where speaking to god, he saith thus, "thy law is burnt; therefore no man knoweth the things which thou has done, or the works that are to begin. but if i have found grace before thee, send down the holy spirit into me, and i shall write all that hath been done in the world, since the beginning, which were written in thy law, that men may find thy path, and that they which will live in the later days, may live." and verse . "and it came to passe when the forty dayes were fulfilled, that the highest spake, saying, 'the first that thou hast written, publish openly, that the worthy and unworthy may read it; but keep the seventy last, that thou mayst deliver them onely to such as be wise among the people.'" and thus much concerning the time of the writing of the bookes of the old testament. the new testament the writers of the new testament lived all in lesse then an age after christs ascension, and had all of them seen our saviour, or been his disciples, except st. paul, and st. luke; and consequently whatsoever was written by them, is as ancient as the time of the apostles. but the time wherein the books of the new testament were received, and acknowledged by the church to be of their writing, is not altogether so ancient. for, as the bookes of the old testament are derived to us, from no higher time then that of esdras, who by the direction of gods spirit retrived them, when they were lost: those of the new testament, of which the copies were not many, nor could easily be all in any one private mans hand, cannot bee derived from a higher time, that that wherein the governours of the church collected, approved, and recommended them to us, as the writings of those apostles and disciples; under whose names they go. the first enumeration of all the bookes, both of the old, and new testament, is in the canons of the apostles, supposed to be collected by clement the first (after st. peter) bishop of rome. but because that is but supposed, and by many questioned, the councell of laodicea is the first we know, that recommended the bible to the then christian churches, for the writings of the prophets and apostles: and this councell was held in the . yeer after christ. at which time, though ambition had so far prevailed on the great doctors of the church, as no more to esteem emperours, though christian, for the shepherds of the people, but for sheep; and emperours not christian, for wolves; and endeavoured to passe their doctrine, not for counsell, and information, as preachers; but for laws, as absolute governours; and thought such frauds as tended to make the people the more obedient to christian doctrine, to be pious; yet i am perswaded they did not therefore falsifie the scriptures, though the copies of the books of the new testament, were in the hands only of the ecclesiasticks; because if they had had an intention so to doe, they would surely have made them more favorable to their power over christian princes, and civill soveraignty, than they are. i see not therefore any reason to doubt, but that the old, and new testament, as we have them now, are the true registers of those things, which were done and said by the prophets, and apostles. and so perhaps are some of those books which are called apocrypha, if left out of the canon, not for inconformity of doctrine with the rest, but only because they are not found in the hebrew. for after the conquest of asia by alexander the great, there were few learned jews, that were not perfect in the greek tongue. for the seventy interpreters that converted the bible into greek, were all of them hebrews; and we have extant the works of philo and josephus both jews, written by them eloquently in greek. but it is not the writer, but the authority of the church, that maketh a book canonicall. their scope and although these books were written by divers men, yet it is manifest the writers were all indued with one and the same spirit, in that they conspire to one and the same end, which is the setting forth of the rights of the kingdome of god, the father, son, and holy ghost. for the book of genesis, deriveth the genealogy of gods people, from the creation of the world, to the going into egypt: the other four books of moses, contain the election of god for their king, and the laws which hee prescribed for their government: the books of joshua, judges, ruth, and samuel, to the time of saul, describe the acts of gods people, till the time they cast off gods yoke, and called for a king, after the manner of their neighbour nations; the rest of the history of the old testament, derives the succession of the line of david, to the captivity, out of which line was to spring the restorer of the kingdome of god, even our blessed saviour god the son, whose coming was foretold in the bookes of the prophets, after whom the evangelists writt his life, and actions, and his claim to the kingdome, whilst he lived one earth: and lastly, the acts, and epistles of the apostles, declare the coming of god, the holy ghost, and the authority he left with them, and their successors, for the direction of the jews, and for the invitation of the gentiles. in summe, the histories and the prophecies of the old testament, and the gospels, and epistles of the new testament, have had one and the same scope, to convert men to the obedience of god; . in moses, and the priests; . in the man christ; and . in the apostles and the successors to apostolicall power. for these three at several times did represent the person of god: moses, and his successors the high priests, and kings of judah, in the old testament: christ himself, in the time he lived on earth: and the apostles, and their successors, from the day of pentecost (when the holy ghost descended on them) to this day. the question of the authority of the scriptures stated. it is a question much disputed between the divers sects of christian religion, from whence the scriptures derive their authority; which question is also propounded sometimes in other terms, as, how wee know them to be the word of god, or, why we beleeve them to be so: and the difficulty of resolving it, ariseth chiefly from the impropernesse of the words wherein the question it self is couched. for it is beleeved on all hands, that the first and originall author of them is god; and consequently the question disputed, is not that. again, it is manifest, that none can know they are gods word, (though all true christians beleeve it,) but those to whom god himself hath revealed it supernaturally; and therefore the question is not rightly moved, of our knowledge of it. lastly, when the question is propounded of our beleefe; because some are moved to beleeve for one, and others for other reasons, there can be rendred no one generall answer for them all. the question truly stated is, by what authority they are made law. their authority and interpretation as far as they differ not from the laws of nature, there is no doubt, but they are the law of god, and carry their authority with them, legible to all men that have the use of naturall reason: but this is no other authority, then that of all other morall doctrine consonant to reason; the dictates whereof are laws, not made, but eternall. if they be made law by god himselfe, they are of the nature of written law, which are laws to them only to whom god hath so sufficiently published them, as no man can excuse himself, by saying, he know not they were his. he therefore, to whom god hath not supernaturally revealed, that they are his, nor that those that published them, were sent by him, is not obliged to obey them, by any authority, but his, whose commands have already the force of laws; that is to say, by any other authority, then that of the common-wealth, residing in the soveraign, who only has the legislative power. again, if it be not the legislative authority of the common-wealth, that giveth them the force of laws, it must bee some other authority derived from god, either private, or publique: if private, it obliges onely him, to whom in particular god hath been pleased to reveale it. for if every man should be obliged, to take for gods law, what particular men, on pretence of private inspiration, or revelation, should obtrude upon him, (in such a number of men, that out of pride, and ignorance, take their own dreams, and extravagant fancies, and madnesse, for testimonies of gods spirit; or out of ambition, pretend to such divine testimonies, falsely, and contrary to their own consciences,) it were impossible that any divine law should be acknowledged. if publique, it is the authority of the common-wealth, or of the church. but the church, if it be one person, is the same thing with a common-wealth of christians; called a common-wealth, because it consisteth of men united in one person, their soveraign; and a church, because it consisteth in christian men, united in one christian soveraign. but if the church be not one person, then it hath no authority at all; it can neither command, nor doe any action at all; nor is capable of having any power, or right to any thing; nor has any will, reason, nor voice; for all these qualities are personall. now if the whole number of christians be not contained in one common-wealth, they are not one person; nor is there an universall church that hath any authority over them; and therefore the scriptures are not made laws, by the universall church: or if it bee one common-wealth, then all christian monarchs, and states are private persons, and subject to bee judged, deposed, and punished by an universall soveraigne of all christendome. so that the question of the authority of the scriptures is reduced to this, "whether christian kings, and the soveraigne assemblies in christian common-wealths, be absolute in their own territories, immediately under god; or subject to one vicar of christ, constituted over the universall church; to bee judged, condemned, deposed, and put to death, as hee shall think expedient, or necessary for the common good." which question cannot bee resolved, without a more particular consideration of the kingdome of god; from whence also, wee are to judge of the authority of interpreting the scripture. for, whosoever hath a lawfull power over any writing, to make it law, hath the power also to approve, or disapprove the interpretation of the same. chapter xxxiv. of the signification of spirit, angel, and inspiration in the books of holy scripture body and spirit how taken in the scripture seeing the foundation of all true ratiocination, is the constant signification of words; which in the doctrine following, dependeth not (as in naturall science) on the will of the writer, nor (as in common conversation) on vulgar use, but on the sense they carry in the scripture; it is necessary, before i proceed any further, to determine, out of the bible, the meaning of such words, as by their ambiguity, may render what i am to inferre upon them, obscure, or disputable. i will begin with the words body, and spirit, which in the language of the schools are termed, substances, corporeall, and incorporeall. the word body, in the most generall acceptation, signifieth that which filleth, or occupyeth some certain room, or imagined place; and dependeth not on the imagination, but is a reall part of that we call the universe. for the universe, being the aggregate of all bodies, there is no reall part thereof that is not also body; nor any thing properly a body, that is not also part of (that aggregate of all bodies) the universe. the same also, because bodies are subject to change, that is to say, to variety of apparence to the sense of living creatures, is called substance, that is to say, subject, to various accidents, as sometimes to be moved, sometimes to stand still; and to seem to our senses sometimes hot, sometimes cold, sometimes of one colour, smel, tast, or sound, somtimes of another. and this diversity of seeming, (produced by the diversity of the operation of bodies, on the organs of our sense) we attribute to alterations of the bodies that operate, & call them accidents of those bodies. and according to this acceptation of the word, substance and body, signifie the same thing; and therefore substance incorporeall are words, which when they are joined together, destroy one another, as if a man should say, an incorporeall body. but in the sense of common people, not all the universe is called body, but only such parts thereof as they can discern by the sense of feeling, to resist their force, or by the sense of their eyes, to hinder them from a farther prospect. therefore in the common language of men, aire, and aeriall substances, use not to be taken for bodies, but (as often as men are sensible of their effects) are called wind, or breath, or (because the some are called in the latine spiritus) spirits; as when they call that aeriall substance, which in the body of any living creature, gives it life and motion, vitall and animall spirits. but for those idols of the brain, which represent bodies to us, where they are not, as in a looking-glasse, in a dream, or to a distempered brain waking, they are (as the apostle saith generally of all idols) nothing; nothing at all, i say, there where they seem to bee; and in the brain it self, nothing but tumult, proceeding either from the action of the objects, or from the disorderly agitation of the organs of our sense. and men, that are otherwise imployed, then to search into their causes, know not of themselves, what to call them; and may therefore easily be perswaded, by those whose knowledge they much reverence, some to call them bodies, and think them made of aire compacted by a power supernaturall, because the sight judges them corporeall; and some to call them spirits, because the sense of touch discerneth nothing in the place where they appear, to resist their fingers: so that the proper signification of spirit in common speech, is either a subtile, fluid, and invisible body, or a ghost, or other idol or phantasme of the imagination. but for metaphoricall significations, there be many: for sometimes it is taken for disposition or inclination of the mind; as when for the disposition to controwl the sayings of other men, we say, a spirit contradiction; for a disposition to uncleannesse, an unclean spirit; for perversenesse, a froward spirit; for sullennesse, a dumb spirit, and for inclination to godlinesse, and gods service, the spirit of god: sometimes for any eminent ability, or extraordinary passion, or disease of the mind, as when great wisdome is called the spirit of wisdome; and mad men are said to be possessed with a spirit. other signification of spirit i find no where any; and where none of these can satisfie the sense of that word in scripture, the place falleth not under humane understanding; and our faith therein consisteth not in our opinion, but in our submission; as in all places where god is said to be a spirit; or where by the spirit of god, is meant god himselfe. for the nature of god is incomprehensible; that is to say, we understand nothing of what he is, but only that he is; and therefore the attributes we give him, are not to tell one another, what he is, nor to signifie our opinion of his nature, but our desire to honor him with such names as we conceive most honorable amongst our selves. spirit of god taken in the scripture sometimes for a wind, or breath gen. . . "the spirit of god moved upon the face of the waters." here if by the spirit of god be meant god himself, then is motion attributed to god, and consequently place, which are intelligible only of bodies, and not of substances incorporeall; and so the place is above our understanding, that can conceive nothing moved that changes not place, or that has not dimension; and whatsoever has dimension, is body. but the meaning of those words is best understood by the like place, gen. . . where when the earth was covered with waters, as in the beginning, god intending to abate them, and again to discover the dry land, useth like words, "i will bring my spirit upon the earth, and the waters shall be diminished:" in which place by spirit is understood a wind, (that is an aire or spirit moved,) which might be called (as in the former place) the spirit of god, because it was gods work. secondly, for extraordinary gifts of the understanding gen. . . pharaoh calleth the wisdome of joseph, the spirit of god. for joseph having advised him to look out a wise and discreet man, and to set him over the land of egypt, he saith thus, "can we find such a man as this is, in whom is the spirit of god?" and exod. . . "thou shalt speak (saith god) to all that are wise hearted, whom i have filled with the spirit of wisdome, to make aaron garments, to consecrate him." where extraordinary understanding, though but in making garments, as being the gift of god, is called the spirit of god. the same is found again, exod. . , , , . and . . and isaiah . , . where the prophet speaking of the messiah, saith, "the spirit of the lord shall abide upon him, the spirit of wisdome and understanding, the spirit of counsell, and fortitude; and the spirit of the fear of the lord." where manifestly is meant, not so many ghosts, but so many eminent graces that god would give him. thirdly, for extraordinary affections in the book of judges, an extraordinary zeal, and courage in the defence of gods people, is called the spirit of god; as when it excited othoniel, gideon, jeptha, and samson to deliver them from servitude, judg. . . . . . . . . . , . and of saul, upon the newes of the insolence of the ammonites towards the men of jabeth gilead, it is said ( sam. . .) that "the spirit of god came upon saul, and his anger (or, as it is in the latine, his fury) was kindled greatly." where it is not probable was meant a ghost, but an extraordinary zeal to punish the cruelty of the ammonites. in like manner by the spirit of god, that came upon saul, when hee was amongst the prophets that praised god in songs, and musick ( sam. . .) is to be understood, not a ghost, but an unexpected and sudden zeal to join with them in their devotions. fourthly, for the gift of prediction by dreams and visions the false prophet zedekiah, saith to micaiah ( kings . .) "which way went the spirit of the lord from me to speak to thee?" which cannot be understood of a ghost; for micaiah declared before the kings of israel and judah, the event of the battle, as from a vision, and not as from a spirit, speaking in him. in the same manner it appeareth, in the books of the prophets, that though they spake by the spirit of god, that is to say, by a speciall grace of prediction; yet their knowledge of the future, was not by a ghost within them, but by some supernaturall dream or vision. fiftly, for life gen. . . it is said, "god made man of the dust of the earth, and breathed into his nostrills (spiraculum vitae) the breath of life, and man was made a living soul." there the breath of life inspired by god, signifies no more, but that god gave him life; and (job . .) "as long as the spirit of god is in my nostrils;" is no more then to say, "as long as i live." so in ezek. . . "the spirit of life was in the wheels," is equivalent to, "the wheels were alive." and (ezek. . .) "the spirit entred into me, and set me on my feet," that is, "i recovered my vitall strength;" not that any ghost, or incorporeal substance entred into, and possessed his body. sixtly, for a subordination to authority in the chap. of numbers. verse . "i will take (saith god) of the spirit, which is upon thee, and will put it upon them, and they shall bear the burthen of the people with thee;" that is, upon the seventy elders: whereupon two of the seventy are said to prophecy in the campe; of whom some complained, and joshua desired moses to forbid them; which moses would not doe. whereby it appears; that joshua knew not they had received authority so to do, and prophecyed according to the mind of moses, that is to say, by a spirit, or authority subordinate to his own. in the like sense we read (deut. . .) that "joshua was full of the spirit of wisdome," because moses had laid his hands upon him: that is, because he was ordained by moses, to prosecute the work hee had himselfe begun, (namely, the bringing of gods people into the promised land), but prevented by death, could not finish. in the like sense it is said, (rom. . .) "if any man have not the spirit of christ, he is none of his:" not meaning thereby the ghost of christ, but a submission to his doctrine. as also ( john . .) "hereby you shall know the spirit of god; every spirit that confesseth that jesus christ is come in the flesh, is of god;" by which is meant the spirit of unfained christianity, or submission to that main article of christian faith, that jesus is the christ; which cannot be interpreted of a ghost. likewise these words (luke . .) "and jesus full of the holy ghost" (that is, as it is exprest, mat. . . and mar. . . "of the holy spirit",) may be understood, for zeal to doe the work for which hee was sent by god the father: but to interpret it of a ghost, is to say, that god himselfe (for so our saviour was,) was filled with god; which is very unproper, and unsignificant. how we came to translate spirits, by the word ghosts, which signifieth nothing, neither in heaven, nor earth, but the imaginary inhabitants of mans brain, i examine not: but this i say, the word spirit in the text signifieth no such thing; but either properly a reall substance, or metaphorically, some extraordinary ability of affection of the mind, or of the body. seventhly, for aeriall bodies the disciples of christ, seeing him walking upon the sea, (mat. . . and marke . .) supposed him to be a spirit, meaning thereby an aeriall body, and not a phantasme: for it is said, they all saw him; which cannot be understood of the delusions of the brain, (which are not common to many at once, as visible bodies are; but singular, because of the differences of fancies), but of bodies only. in like manner, where he was taken for a spirit, by the same apostles (luke . , .): so also (acts . ) when st. peter was delivered out of prison, it would not be beleeved; but when the maid said he was at the dore, they said it was his angel; by which must be meant a corporeall substance, or we must say, the disciples themselves did follow the common opinion of both jews and gentiles, that some such apparitions were not imaginary, but reall; and such as needed not the fancy of man for their existence: these the jews called spirits, and angels, good or bad; as the greeks called the same by the name of daemons. and some such apparitions may be reall, and substantiall; that is to say, subtile bodies, which god can form by the same power, by which he formed all things, and make use of, as of ministers, and messengers (that is to say, angels) to declare his will, and execute the same when he pleaseth, in extraordinary and supernaturall manner. but when hee hath so formed them they are substances, endued with dimensions, and take up roome, and can be moved from place to place, which is peculiar to bodies; and therefore are not ghosts incorporeall, that is to say, ghosts that are in no place; that is to say, that are no where; that is to say, that seeming to be somewhat, are nothing. but if corporeall be taken in the most vulgar manner, for such substances as are perceptible by our externall senses; then is substance incorporeall, a thing not imaginary, but reall; namely, a thin substance invisible, but that hath the same dimensions that are in grosser bodies. angel what by the name of angel, is signified generally, a messenger; and most often, a messenger of god: and by a messenger of god, is signified, any thing that makes known his extraordinary presence; that is to say, the extraordinary manifestation of his power, especially by a dream, or vision. concerning the creation of angels, there is nothing delivered in the scriptures. that they are spirits, is often repeated: but by the name of spirit, is signified both in scripture, and vulgarly, both amongst jews, and gentiles, sometimes thin bodies; as the aire, the wind, the spirits vitall, and animall, of living creatures; and sometimes the images that rise in the fancy in dreams, and visions; which are not reall substances, but accidents of the brain; yet when god raiseth them supernaturally, to signifie his will, they are not unproperly termed gods messengers, that is to say, his angels. and as the gentiles did vulgarly conceive the imagery of the brain, for things really subsistent without them, and not dependent on the fancy; and out of them framed their opinions of daemons, good and evill; which because they seemed to subsist really, they called substances; and because they could not feel them with their hands, incorporeall: so also the jews upon the same ground, without any thing in the old testament that constrained them thereunto, had generally an opinion, (except the sect of the sadduces,) that those apparitions (which it pleased god sometimes to produce in the fancie of men, for his own service, and therefore called them his angels) were substances, not dependent on the fancy, but permanent creatures of god; whereof those which they thought were good to them, they esteemed the angels of god, and those they thought would hurt them, they called evill angels, or evill spirits; such as was the spirit of python, and the spirits of mad-men, of lunatiques, and epileptiques: for they esteemed such as were troubled with such diseases, daemoniaques. but if we consider the places of the old testament where angels are mentioned, we shall find, that in most of them, there can nothing else be understood by the word angel, but some image raised (supernaturally) in the fancy, to signifie the presence of god in the execution of some supernaturall work; and therefore in the rest, where their nature is not exprest, it may be understood in the same manner. for we read gen. . that the same apparition is called, not onely an angel, but god; where that which (verse .) is called the angel of the lord, in the tenth verse, saith to agar, "i will multiply thy seed exceedingly;" that is, speaketh in the person of god. neither was this apparition a fancy figured, but a voice. by which it is manifest, that angel signifieth there, nothing but god himself, that caused agar supernaturally to apprehend a voice supernaturall, testifying gods speciall presence there. why therefore may not the angels that appeared to lot, and are called gen. . . men; and to whom, though they were but two, lot speaketh (ver. .) as but one, and that one, as god, (for the words are, "lot said unto them, oh not so my lord") be understood of images of men, supernaturally formed in the fancy; as well as before by angel was understood a fancyed voice? when the angel called to abraham out of heaven, to stay his hand (gen. . .) from slaying isaac, there was no apparition, but a voice; which neverthelesse was called properly enough a messenger, or angel of god, because it declared gods will supernaturally, and saves the labour of supposing any permanent ghosts. the angels which jacob saw on the ladder of heaven (gen. . .) were a vision of his sleep; therefore onely fancy, and a dream; yet being supernaturall, and signs of gods speciall presence, those apparitions are not improperly called angels. the same is to be understood (gen. . .) where jacob saith thus, "the angel of the lord appeared to mee in my sleep." for an apparition made to a man in his sleep, is that which all men call a dreame, whether such dreame be naturall, or supernaturall: and that which there jacob calleth an angel, was god himselfe; for the same angel saith (verse .) "i am the god of bethel." also (exod. . .) the angel that went before the army of israel to the red sea, and then came behind it, is (verse .) the lord himself; and he appeared not in the form of a beautifull man, but in form (by day) of a pillar of cloud and (by night) in form of a pillar of fire; and yet this pillar was all the apparition, and angel promised to moses (exod. . .) for the armies guide: for this cloudy pillar, is said, to have descended, and stood at the dore of the tabernacle, and to have talked with moses. there you see motion, and speech, which are commonly attributed to angels, attributed to a cloud, because the cloud served as a sign of gods presence; and was no lesse an angel, then if it had had the form of a man, or child of never so great beauty; or wings, as usually they are painted, for the false instruction of common people. for it is not the shape; but their use, that makes them angels. but their use is to be significations of gods presence in supernaturall operations; as when moses (exod. . .) had desired god to goe along with the campe, (as he had done alwaies before the making of the golden calfe,) god did not answer, "i will goe," nor "i will send an angel in my stead;" but thus, "my presence shall goe with thee." to mention all the places of the old testament where the name of angel is found, would be too long. therefore to comprehend them all at once, i say, there is no text in that part of the old testament, which the church of england holdeth for canonicall, from which we can conclude, there is, or hath been created, any permanent thing (understood by the name of spirit or angel,) that hath not quantity; and that may not be, by the understanding divided; that is to say, considered by parts; so as one part may bee in one place, and the next part in the next place to it; and, in summe, which is not (taking body for that, which is some what, or some where) corporeall; but in every place, the sense will bear the interpretation of angel, for messenger; as john baptist is called an angel, and christ the angel of the covenant; and as (according to the same analogy) the dove, and the fiery tongues, in that they were signes of gods speciall presence, might also be called angels. though we find in daniel two names of angels, gabriel, and michael; yet is cleer out of the text it selfe, (dan. . ) that by michael is meant christ, not as an angel, but as a prince: and that gabriel (as the like apparitions made to other holy men in their sleep) was nothing but a supernaturall phantasme, by which it seemed to daniel, in his dream, that two saints being in talke, one of them said to the other, "gabriel, let us make this man understand his vision:" for god needeth not, to distinguish his celestiall servants by names, which are usefull onely to the short memories of mortalls. nor in the new testament is there any place, out of which it can be proved, that angels (except when they are put for such men, as god hath made the messengers, and ministers of his word, or works) are things permanent, and withall incorporeall. that they are permanent, may bee gathered from the words of our saviour himselfe, (mat. . .) where he saith, it shall be said to the wicked in the last day, "go ye cursed into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels:" which place is manifest for the permanence of evill angels, (unlesse wee might think the name of devill and his angels may be understood of the churches adversaries and their ministers;) but then it is repugnant to their immateriality; because everlasting fire is no punishment to impatible substances, such as are all things incorporeall. angels therefore are not thence proved to be incorporeall. in like manner where st. paul sayes ( cor. . .) "knew ye not that wee shall judge the angels?" and ( pet. . .) "for if god spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down into hell." and (jude , .) "and the angels that kept not their first estate, but left their owne habitation, hee hath reserved in everlasting chaines under darknesse unto the judgement of the last day;" though it prove the permanence of angelicall nature, it confirmeth also their materiality. and (mat. . .) in the resurrection men doe neither marry, nor give in marriage, but are as the angels of god in heaven:" but in the resurrection men shall be permanent, and not incorporeall; so therefore also are the angels. there be divers other places out of which may be drawn the like conclusion. to men that understand the signification of these words, substance, and incorporeall; as incorporeall is taken not for subtile body, but for not body, they imply a contradiction: insomuch as to say, an angel, or spirit is (in that sense) an incorporeall substance, is to say in effect, there is no angel nor spirit at all. considering therefore the signification of the word angel in the old testament, and the nature of dreams and visions that happen to men by the ordinary way of nature; i was enclined to this opinion, that angels were nothing but supernaturall apparitions of the fancy, raised by the speciall and extraordinary operation of god, thereby to make his presence and commandements known to mankind, and chiefly to his own people. but the many places of the new testament, and our saviours own words, and in such texts, wherein is no suspicion of corruption of the scripture, have extorted from my feeble reason, an acknowledgement, and beleef, that there be also angels substantiall, and permanent. but to beleeve they be in no place, that is to say, no where, that is to say, nothing, as they (though indirectly) say, that will have them incorporeall, cannot by scripture bee evinced. inspiration what on the signification of the word spirit, dependeth that of the word inspiration; which must either be taken properly; and then it is nothing but the blowing into a man some thin and subtile aire, or wind, in such manner as a man filleth a bladder with his breath; or if spirits be not corporeal, but have their existence only in the fancy, it is nothing but the blowing in of a phantasme; which is improper to say, and impossible; for phantasmes are not, but only seem to be somewhat. that word therefore is used in the scripture metaphorically onely: as (gen. . .) where it is said, that god inspired into man the breath of life, no more is meant, then that god gave unto him vitall motion. for we are not to think that god made first a living breath, and then blew it into adam after he was made, whether that breath were reall, or seeming; but only as it is (acts . .) "that he gave him life and breath;" that is, made him a living creature. and where it is said ( tim. . .) "all scripture is given by inspiration from god," speaking there of the scripture of the old testament, it is an easie metaphor, to signifie, that god enclined the spirit or mind of those writers, to write that which should be usefull, in teaching, reproving, correcting, and instructing men in the way of righteous living. but where st. peter ( pet. . .) saith, that "prophecy came not in old time by the will of man, but the holy men of god spake as they were moved by the holy spirit," by the holy spirit, is meant the voice of god in a dream, or vision supernaturall, which is not inspiration; nor when our saviour breathing on his disciples, said, "receive the holy spirit," was that breath the spirit, but a sign of the spirituall graces he gave unto them. and though it be said of many, and of our saviour himself, that he was full of the holy spirit; yet that fulnesse is not to be understood for infusion of the substance of god, but for accumulation of his gifts, such as are the gift of sanctity of life, of tongues, and the like, whether attained supernaturally, or by study and industry; for in all cases they are the gifts of god. so likewise where god sayes (joel . .) "i will powre out my spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophecy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions," wee are not to understand it in the proper sense, as if his spirit were like water, subject to effusion, or infusion; but as if god had promised to give them propheticall dreams, and visions. for the proper use of the word infused, in speaking of the graces of god, is an abuse of it; for those graces are vertues, not bodies to be carryed hither and thither, and to be powred into men, as into barrels. in the same manner, to take inspiration in the proper sense, or to say that good spirits entred into men to make them prophecy, or evill spirits into those that became phrenetique, lunatique, or epileptique, is not to take the word in the sense of the scripture; for the spirit there is taken for the power of god, working by causes to us unknown. as also (acts . .) the wind, that is there said to fill the house wherein the apostles were assembled on the day of pentecost, is not to be understood for the holy spirit, which is the deity it self; but for an externall sign of gods speciall working on their hearts, to effect in them the internall graces, and holy vertues hee thought requisite for the performance of their apostleship. chapter xxxv. of the signification in scripture of kingdome of god, of holy, sacred, and sacrament kingdom of god taken by divines metaphorically but in the scriptures properly the kingdome of god in the writings of divines, and specially in sermons, and treatises of devotion, is taken most commonly for eternall felicity, after this life, in the highest heaven, which they also call the kingdome of glory; and sometimes for (the earnest of that felicity) sanctification, which they terme the kingdome of grace, but never for the monarchy, that is to say, the soveraign power of god over any subjects acquired by their own consent, which is the proper signification of kingdome. to the contrary, i find the kingdome of god, to signifie in most places of scripture, a kingdome properly so named, constituted by the votes of the people of israel in peculiar manner; wherein they chose god for their king by covenant made with him, upon gods promising them the possession of the land of canaan; and but seldom metaphorically; and then it is taken for dominion over sinne; (and only in the new testament;) because such a dominion as that, every subject shall have in the kingdome of god, and without prejudice to the soveraign. from the very creation, god not only reigned over all men naturally by his might; but also had peculiar subjects, whom he commanded by a voice, as one man speaketh to another. in which manner he reigned over adam, and gave him commandement to abstaine from the tree of cognizance of good and evill; which when he obeyed not, but tasting thereof, took upon him to be as god, judging between good and evill, not by his creators commandement, but by his own sense, his punishment was a privation of the estate of eternall life, wherein god had at first created him: and afterwards god punished his posterity, for their vices, all but eight persons, with an universall deluge; and in these eight did consist the then kingdome of god. the originall of the kingdome of god after this, it pleased god to speak to abraham, and (gen. . , .) to make a covenant with him in these words, "i will establish my covenant between me, and thee, and thy seed after thee in their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be a god to thee, and to thy seed after thee; and i will give unto thee, and to thy seed after thee, the land wherein thou art a stranger, all the land of canaan for an everlasting possession." and for a memoriall, and a token of this covenant, he ordaineth (verse .) the sacrament of circumcision. this is it which is called the old covenant, or testament; and containeth a contract between god and abraham; by which abraham obligeth himself, and his posterity, in a peculiar manner to be subject to gods positive law; for to the law morall he was obliged before, as by an oath of allegiance. and though the name of king be not yet given to god, nor of kingdome to abraham and his seed; yet the thing is the same; namely, an institution by pact, of gods peculiar soveraignty over the seed of abraham; which in the renewing of the same covenant by moses, at mount sinai, is expressely called a peculiar kingdome of god over the jews: and it is of abraham (not of moses) st. paul saith (rom. . .) that he is the "father of the faithfull," that is, of those that are loyall, and doe not violate their allegiance sworn to god, then by circumcision, and afterwards in the new covenant by baptisme. that the kingdome of god is properly his civill soveraignty over a peculiar people by pact this covenant, at the foot of mount sinai, was renewed by moses (exod. . .) where the lord commandeth moses to speak to the people in this manner, "if you will obey my voice indeed, and keep my covenant, then yee shall be a peculiar people to me, for all the earth is mine; and yee shall be unto me a sacerdotall kingdome, and an holy nation." for a "peculiar people" the vulgar latine hath, peculium de cunctis populis: the english translation made in the beginning of the reign of king james, hath, a "peculiar treasure unto me above all nations;" and the geneva french, "the most precious jewel of all nations." but the truest translation is the first, because it is confirmed by st. paul himself (tit. . .) where he saith, alluding to that place, that our blessed saviour "gave himself for us, that he might purifie us to himself, a peculiar (that is, an extraordinary) people:" for the word is in the greek periousios, which is opposed commonly to the word epiousios: and as this signifieth ordinary, quotidian, or (as in the lords prayer) of daily use; so the other signifieth that which is overplus, and stored up, and enjoyed in a speciall manner; which the latines call peculium; and this meaning of the place is confirmed by the reason god rendereth of it, which followeth immediately, in that he addeth, "for all the earth is mine," as if he should say, "all the nations of the world are mine;" but it is not so that you are mine, but in a speciall manner: for they are all mine, by reason of my power; but you shall be mine, by your own consent, and covenant; which is an addition to his ordinary title, to all nations. the same is again confirmed in expresse words in the same text, "yee shall be to me a sacerdotall kingdome, and an holy nation." the vulgar latine hath it, regnum sacerdotale, to which agreeth the translation of that place ( pet. . .) sacerdotium regale, a regal priesthood; as also the institution it self, by which no man might enter into the sanctum sanctorum, that is to say, no man might enquire gods will immediately of god himselfe, but onely the high priest. the english translation before mentioned, following that of geneva, has, "a kingdome of priests;" which is either meant of the succession of one high priest after another, or else it accordeth not with st. peter, nor with the exercise of the high priesthood; for there was never any but the high priest onely, that was to informe the people of gods will; nor any convocation of priests ever allowed to enter into the sanctum sanctorum. again, the title of a holy nation confirmes the same: for holy signifies, that which is gods by speciall, not by generall right. all the earth (as is said in the text) is gods; but all the earth is not called holy, but that onely which is set apart for his especiall service, as was the nation of the jews. it is therefore manifest enough by this one place, that by the kingdome of god, is properly meant a common-wealth, instituted (by the consent of those which were to be subject thereto) for their civill government, and the regulating of their behaviour, not onely towards god their king, but also towards one another in point of justice, and towards other nations both in peace and warre; which properly was a kingdome, wherein god was king, and the high priest was to be (after the death of moses) his sole viceroy, or lieutenant. but there be many other places that clearly prove the same. as first ( sam. . .) when the elders of israel (grieved with the corruption of the sons of samuel) demanded a king, samuel displeased therewith, prayed unto the lord; and the lord answering said unto him, "hearken unto the voice of the people, for they have not rejected thee, but they have rejected me, that i should not reign over them." out of which it is evident, that god himself was then their king; and samuel did not command the people, but only delivered to them that which god from time to time appointed him. again, ( sam. . .) where samuel saith to the people, "when yee saw that nahash king of the children of ammon came against you, ye said unto me, nay, but a king shall reign over us, when the lord your god was your king:" it is manifest that god was their king, and governed the civill state of their common-wealth. and after the israelites had rejected god, the prophets did foretell his restitution; as (isaiah . .) "then the moon shall be confounded, and the sun ashamed when the lord of hosts shall reign in mount zion, and in jerusalem;" where he speaketh expressely of his reign in zion, and jerusalem; that is, on earth. and (micah . .) "and the lord shall reign over them in mount zion:" this mount zion is in jerusalem upon the earth. and (ezek. . .) "as i live, saith the lord god, surely with a mighty hand, and a stretched out arme, and with fury powred out, i wil rule over you; and (verse .) i will cause you to passe under the rod, and i will bring you into the bond of the covenant;" that is, i will reign over you, and make you to stand to that covenant which you made with me by moses, and brake in your rebellion against me in the days of samuel, and in your election of another king. and in the new testament, the angel gabriel saith of our saviour (luke . , ) "he shall be great, and be called the son of the most high, and the lord shall give him the throne of his father david; and he shall reign over the house of jacob for ever; and of his kingdome there shall be no end." this is also a kingdome upon earth; for the claim whereof, as an enemy to caesar, he was put to death; the title of his crosse, was, jesus of nazareth, king of the jews; hee was crowned in scorn with a crown of thornes; and for the proclaiming of him, it is said of the disciples (acts . .) "that they did all of them contrary to the decrees of caesar, saying there was another king, one jesus. the kingdome therefore of god, is a reall, not a metaphoricall kingdome; and so taken, not onely in the old testament, but the new; when we say, "for thine is the kingdome, the power, and glory," it is to be understood of gods kingdome, by force of our covenant, not by the right of gods power; for such a kingdome god alwaies hath; so that it were superfluous to say in our prayer, "thy kingdome come," unlesse it be meant of the restauration of that kingdome of god by christ, which by revolt of the israelites had been interrupted in the election of saul. nor had it been proper to say, "the kingdome of heaven is at hand," or to pray, "thy kingdome come," if it had still continued. there be so many other places that confirm this interpretation, that it were a wonder there is no greater notice taken of it, but that it gives too much light to christian kings to see their right of ecclesiastical government. this they have observed, that in stead of a sacerdotall kingdome, translate, a kingdome of priests: for they may as well translate a royall priesthood, (as it is in st. peter) into a priesthood of kings. and whereas, for a peculiar people, they put a pretious jewel, or treasure, a man might as well call the speciall regiment, or company of a generall, the generalls pretious jewel, or his treasure. in short, the kingdome of god is a civill kingdome; which consisted, first in the obligation of the people of israel to those laws, which moses should bring unto them from mount sinai; and which afterwards the high priest of the time being, should deliver to them from before the cherubins in the sanctum sanctorum; and which kingdome having been cast off, in the election of saul, the prophets foretold, should be restored by christ; and the restauration whereof we daily pray for, when we say in the lords prayer, "thy kingdome come;" and the right whereof we acknowledge, when we adde, "for thine is the kingdome, the power, and glory, for ever and ever, amen;" and the proclaiming whereof, was the preaching of the apostles; and to which men are prepared, by the teachers of the gospel; to embrace which gospel, (that is to say, to promise obedience to gods government) is, to bee in the kingdome of grace, because god hath gratis given to such the power to bee the subjects (that is, children) of god hereafter, when christ shall come in majesty to judge the world, and actually to govern his owne people, which is called the kingdome of glory. if the kingdome of god (called also the kingdome of heaven, from the gloriousnesse, and admirable height of that throne) were not a kingdome which god by his lieutenant, or vicars, who deliver his commandements to the people, did exercise on earth; there would not have been so much contention, and warre, about who it is, by whom god speaketh to us; neither would many priests have troubled themselves with spirituall jurisdiction, nor any king have denied it them. out of this literall interpretation of the kingdome of god, ariseth also the true interpretation of the word holy. for it is a word, which in gods kingdome answereth to that, which men in their kingdomes use to call publique, or the kings. the king of any countrey is the publique person, or representative of all his own subjects. and god the king of israel was the holy one of israel. the nation which is subject to one earthly soveraign, is the nation of that soveraign, that is, of the publique person. so the jews, who were gods nation, were called (exod. . .) "a holy nation." for by holy, is alwaies understood, either god himselfe, or that which is gods in propriety; as by publique is alwaies meant, either the person of the common-wealth it self, or something that is so the common-wealths, as no private person can claim any propriety therein. therefore the sabbath (gods day) is a holy day; the temple, (gods house) a holy house; sacrifices, tithes, and offerings (gods tribute) holy duties; priests, prophets, and anointed kings, under christ (gods ministers) holy men; the coelestiall ministring spirits (gods messengers) holy angels; and the like: and wheresoever the word holy is taken properly, there is still something signified of propriety, gotten by consent. in saying "hallowed be thy name," we do but pray to god for grace to keep the first commandement, of "having no other gods but him." mankind is gods nation in propriety: but the jews only were a holy nation. why, but because they became his propriety by covenant. sacred what and the word profane, is usually taken in the scripture for the same with common; and consequently their contraries, holy, and proper, in the kingdome of god must be the same also. but figuratively, those men also are called holy, that led such godly lives, as if they had forsaken all worldly designes, and wholly devoted, and given themselves to god. in the proper sense, that which is made holy by gods appropriating or separating it to his own use, is said to be sanctified by god, as the seventh day in the fourth commandement; and as the elect in the new testament were said to bee sanctified, when they were endued with the spirit of godlinesse. and that which is made holy by the dedication of men, and given to god, so as to be used onely in his publique service, is called also sacred, and said to be consecrated, as temples, and other houses of publique prayer, and their utensils, priests, and ministers, victimes, offerings, and the externall matter of sacraments. degrees of sanctity of holinesse there be degrees: for of those things that are set apart for the service of god, there may bee some set apart again, for a neerer and more especial service. the whole nation of the israelites were a people holy to god; yet the tribe of levi was amongst the israelites a holy tribe; and amongst the levites, the priests were yet more holy; and amongst the priests, the high priest was the most holy. so the land of judea was the holy land; but the holy city wherein god was to be worshipped, was more holy; and again, the temples more holy than the city; and the sanctum sanctorum more holy than the rest of the temple. sacrament a sacrament, is a separation of some visible thing from common use; and a consecration of it to gods service, for a sign, either of our admission into the kingdome of god, to be of the number of his peculiar people, or for a commemoration of the same. in the old testament, the sign of admission was circumcision; in the new testament, baptisme. the commemoration of it in the old testament, was the eating (at a certain time, which was anniversary) of the paschall lamb; by which they were put in mind of the night wherein they were delivered out of their bondage in egypt; and in the new testament, the celebrating of the lords supper; by which, we are put in mind, of our deliverance from the bondage of sin, by our blessed saviours death upon the crosse. the sacraments of admission, are but once to be used, because there needs but one admission; but because we have need of being often put in mind of our deliverance, and of our allegeance, the sacraments of commemoration have need to be reiterated. and these are the principall sacraments, and as it were the solemne oathes we make of our alleageance. there be also other consecrations, that may be called sacraments, as the word implyeth onely consecration to gods service; but as it implies an oath, or promise of alleageance to god, there were no other in the old testament, but circumcision, and the passover; nor are there any other in the new testament, but baptisme, and the lords supper. chapter xxxvi. of the word of god, and of prophets word what when there is mention of the word of god, or of man, it doth not signifie a part of speech, such as grammarians call a nown, or a verb, or any simple voice, without a contexture with other words to make it significative; but a perfect speech or discourse, whereby the speaker affirmeth, denieth, commandeth, promiseth, threateneth, wisheth, or interrogateth. in which sense it is not vocabulum, that signifies a word; but sermo, (in greek logos) that is some speech, discourse, or saying. the words spoken by god and concerning god, both are called gods word in scripture again, if we say the word of god, or of man, it may bee understood sometimes of the speaker, (as the words that god hath spoken, or that a man hath spoken): in which sense, when we say, the gospel of st. matthew, we understand st. matthew to be the writer of it: and sometimes of the subject: in which sense, when we read in the bible, "the words of the days of the kings of israel, or judah," 'tis meant, that the acts that were done in those days, were the subject of those words; and in the greek, which (in the scripture) retaineth many hebraismes, by the word of god is oftentimes meant, not that which is spoken by god, but concerning god, and his government; that is to say, the doctrine of religion: insomuch, as it is all one, to say logos theou, and theologia; which is, that doctrine which wee usually call divinity, as is manifest by the places following (acts . .) "then paul and barnabas waxed bold, and said, it was necessary that the word of god should first have been spoken to you, but seeing you put it from you, and judge your selves unworthy of everlasting life, loe, we turn to the gentiles." that which is here called the word of god, was the doctrine of christian religion; as it appears evidently by that which goes before. and (acts . .) where it is said to the apostles by an angel, "go stand and speak in the temple, all the words of this life;" by the words of this life, is meant, the doctrine of the gospel; as is evident by what they did in the temple, and is expressed in the last verse of the same chap. "daily in the temple, and in every house they ceased not to teach and preach christ jesus:" in which place it is manifest, that jesus christ was the subject of this word of life; or (which is all one) the subject of the words of this life eternall, that our saviour offered them. so (acts . .) the word of god, is called the word of the gospel, because it containeth the doctrine of the kingdome of christ; and the same word (rom. . , .) is called the word of faith; that is, as is there expressed, the doctrine of christ come, and raised from the dead. also (mat. . .) "when any one heareth the word of the kingdome;" that is, the doctrine of the kingdome taught by christ. again, the same word, is said (acts . .) "to grow and to be multiplied;" which to understand of the evangelicall doctrine is easie, but of the voice, or speech of god, hard and strange. in the same sense the doctrine of devils, signifieth not the words of any devill, but the doctrine of heathen men concerning daemons, and those phantasms which they worshipped as gods. ( tim. . .) considering these two significations of the word of god, as it is taken in scripture, it is manifest in this later sense (where it is taken for the doctrine of the christian religion,) that the whole scripture is the word of god: but in the former sense not so. for example, though these words, "i am the lord thy god, &c." to the end of the ten commandements, were spoken by god to moses; yet the preface, "god spake these words and said," is to be understood for the words of him that wrote the holy history. the word of god, as it is taken for that which he hath spoken, is understood sometimes properly, sometimes metaphorically. properly, as the words, he hath spoken to his prophets; metaphorically, for his wisdome, power, and eternall decree, in making the world; in which sense, those fiats, "let there be light," "let there be a firmament," "let us make man," &c. (gen. .) are the word of god. and in the same sense it is said (john . .) "all things were made by it, and without it was nothing made that was made; and (heb. . .) "he upholdeth all things by the word of his power;" that is, by the power of his word; that is, by his power; and (heb. . .) "the worlds were framed by the word of god;" and many other places to the same sense: as also amongst the latines, the name of fate, which signifieth properly the word spoken, is taken in the same sense. secondly, for the effect of his word secondly, for the effect of his word; that is to say, for the thing it self, which by his word is affirmed, commanded, threatned, or promised; as (psalm . .) where joseph is said to have been kept in prison, "till his word was come;" that is, till that was come to passe which he had (gen. . .) foretold to pharaohs butler, concerning his being restored to his office: for there by his word was come, is meant, the thing it self was come to passe. so also ( king. . .) elijah saith to god, "i have done all these thy words," in stead of "i have done all these things at thy word," or commandement: and (jer. . .) "where is the word of the lord," is put for, "where is the evill he threatened:" and (ezek. . .) "there shall none of my words be prolonged any more:" by "words" are understood those things, which god promised to his people. and in the new testament (mat. . .) "heaven and earth shal pass away, but my words shall not pass away;" that is, there is nothing that i have promised or foretold, that shall not come to passe. and in this sense it is, that st. john the evangelist, and, i think, st. john onely calleth our saviour himself as in the flesh "the word of god (as joh. . .) the word was made flesh;" that is to say, the word, or promise that christ should come into the world, "who in the beginning was with god;" that is to say, it was in the purpose of god the father, to send god the son into the world, to enlighten men in the way of eternall life, but it was not till then put in execution, and actually incarnate; so that our saviour is there called "the word," not because he was the promise, but the thing promised. they that taking occasion from this place, doe commonly call him the verbe of god, do but render the text more obscure. they might as well term him the nown of god: for as by nown, so also by verbe, men understand nothing but a part of speech, a voice, a sound, that neither affirms, nor denies, nor commands, nor promiseth, nor is any substance corporeall, or spirituall; and therefore it cannot be said to bee either god, or man; whereas our saviour is both. and this word which st. john in his gospel saith was with god, is (in his epistle, verse .) called "the word of life;" and (verse .) "the eternall life, which was with the father:" so that he can be in no other sense called the word, then in that, wherein he is called eternall life; that is, "he that hath procured us eternall life," by his comming in the flesh. so also (apocalypse . .) the apostle speaking of christ, clothed in a garment dipt in bloud, saith; his name is "the word of god;" which is to be understood, as if he had said his name had been, "he that was come according to the purpose of god from the beginning, and according to his word and promises delivered by the prophets." so that there is nothing here of the incarnation of a word, but of the incarnation of god the son, therefore called the word, because his incarnation was the performance of the promise; in like manner as the holy ghost is called the promise. (acts . . luke . .) thirdly, for the words of reason and equity there are also places of the scripture, where, by the word of god, is signified such words as are consonant to reason, and equity, though spoken sometimes neither by prophet, nor by a holy man. for pharaoh necho was an idolator; yet his words to the good king josiah, in which he advised him by messengers, not to oppose him in his march against carchemish, are said to have proceeded from the mouth of god; and that josiah not hearkning to them, was slain in the battle; as is to be read chron. . vers. , , . it is true, that as the same history is related in the first book of esdras, not pharaoh, but jeremiah spake these words to josiah, from the mouth of the lord. but wee are to give credit to the canonicall scripture, whatsoever be written in the apocrypha. the word of god, is then also to be taken for the dictates of reason, and equity, when the same is said in the scriptures to bee written in mans heart; as psalm . . jerem. . . deut. . , . and many other like places. divers acceptions of the word prophet the name of prophet, signifieth in scripture sometimes prolocutor; that is, he that speaketh from god to man, or from man to god: and sometimes praedictor, or a foreteller of things to come; and sometimes one that speaketh incoherently, as men that are distracted. it is most frequently used in the sense of speaking from god to the people. so moses, samuel, elijah, isaiah, jeremiah, and others were prophets. and in this sense the high priest was a prophet, for he only went into the sanctum sanctorum, to enquire of god; and was to declare his answer to the people. and therefore when caiphas said, it was expedient that one man should die for the people, st. john saith (chap. . .) that "he spake not this of himselfe, but being high priest that year, he prophesied that one man should dye for the nation." also they that in christian congregations taught the people, ( cor. . .) are said to prophecy. in the like sense it is, that god saith to moses (exod. . .) concerning aaron, "he shall be thy spokes-man to the people; and he shall be to thee a mouth, and thou shalt be to him in stead of god;" that which here is spokesman, is (chap. . .) interpreted prophet; "see (saith god) i have made thee a god to pharaoh, and aaron thy brother shall be thy prophet." in the sense of speaking from man to god, abraham is called a prophet (genes. . .) where god in a dream speaketh to abimelech in this manner, "now therefore restore the man his wife, for he is a prophet, and shall pray for thee;" whereby may be also gathered, that the name of prophet may be given, not unproperly to them that in christian churches, have a calling to say publique prayers for the congregation. in the same sense, the prophets that came down from the high place (or hill of god) with a psaltery, and a tabret, and a pipe, and a harp ( sam. . , .) and (vers. .) saul amongst them, are said to prophecy, in that they praised god, in that manner publiquely. in the like sense, is miriam (exod. . .) called a prophetesse. so is it also to be taken ( cor. . , .) where st. paul saith, "every man that prayeth or prophecyeth with his head covered, &c. and every woman that prayeth or prophecyeth with her head uncovered: for prophecy in that place, signifieth no more, but praising god in psalmes, and holy songs; which women might doe in the church, though it were not lawfull for them to speak to the congregation. and in this signification it is, that the poets of the heathen, that composed hymnes and other sorts of poems in the honor of their gods, were called vates (prophets) as is well enough known by all that are versed in the books of the gentiles, and as is evident (tit. . .) where st. paul saith of the cretians, that a prophet of their owne said, they were liars; not that st. paul held their poets for prophets, but acknowledgeth that the word prophet was commonly used to signifie them that celebrated the honour of god in verse praediction of future contingents, not alwaies prophecy when by prophecy is meant praediction, or foretelling of future contingents; not only they were prophets, who were gods spokesmen, and foretold those things to others, which god had foretold to them; but also all those imposters, that pretend by the helpe of familiar spirits, or by superstitious divination of events past, from false causes, to foretell the like events in time to come: of which (as i have declared already in the . chapter of this discourse) there be many kinds, who gain in the opinion of the common sort of men, a greater reputation of prophecy, by one casuall event that may bee but wrested to their purpose, than can be lost again by never so many failings. prophecy is not an art, nor (when it is taken for praediction) a constant vocation; but an extraordinary, and temporary employment from god, most often of good men, but sometimes also of the wicked. the woman of endor, who is said to have had a familiar spirit, and thereby to have raised a phantasme of samuel, and foretold saul his death, was not therefore a prophetesse; for neither had she any science, whereby she could raise such a phantasme; nor does it appear that god commanded the raising of it; but onely guided that imposture to be a means of sauls terror and discouragement; and by consequent, of the discomfiture, by which he fell. and for incoherent speech, it was amongst the gentiles taken for one sort of prophecy, because the prophets of their oracles, intoxicated with a spirit, or vapour from the cave of the pythian oracle at delphi, were for the time really mad, and spake like mad-men; of whose loose words a sense might be made to fit any event, in such sort, as all bodies are said to be made of materia prima. in the scripture i find it also so taken ( sam. . .) in these words, "and the evill spirit came upon saul, and he prophecyed in the midst of the house." the manner how god hath spoken to the prophets and although there be so many significations in scripture of the word prophet; yet is that the most frequent, in which it is taken for him, to whom god speaketh immediately, that which the prophet is to say from him, to some other man, or to the people. and hereupon a question may be asked, in what manner god speaketh to such a prophet. can it (may some say) be properly said, that god hath voice and language, when it cannot be properly said, he hath a tongue, or other organs, as a man? the prophet david argueth thus, "shall he that made the eye, not see? or he that made the ear, not hear?" but this may be spoken, not (as usually) to signifie gods nature, but to signifie our intention to honor him. for to see, and hear, are honorable attributes, and may be given to god, to declare (as far as our capacity can conceive) his almighty power. but if it were to be taken in the strict, and proper sense, one might argue from his making of all parts of mans body, that he had also the same use of them which we have; which would be many of them so uncomely, as it would be the greatest contumely in the world to ascribe them to him. therefore we are to interpret gods speaking to men immediately, for that way (whatsoever it be), by which god makes them understand his will: and the wayes whereby he doth this, are many; and to be sought onely in the holy scripture: where though many times it be said, that god spake to this, and that person, without declaring in what manner; yet there be again many places, that deliver also the signes by which they were to acknowledge his presence, and commandement; and by these may be understood, how he spake to many of the rest. to the extraordinary prophets of the old testament he spake by dreams, or visions in what manner god spake to adam, and eve, and cain, and noah, is not expressed; nor how he spake to abraham, till such time as he came out of his own countrey to sichem in the land of canaan; and then (gen. . .) god is said to have appeared to him. so there is one way, whereby god made his presence manifest; that is, by an apparition, or vision. and again, (gen. . .) the word of the lord came to abraham in a vision; that is to say, somewhat, as a sign of gods presence, appeared as gods messenger, to speak to him. again, the lord appeared to abraham (gen. . .) by an apparition of three angels; and to abimelech (gen. . .) in a dream: to lot (gen. . .) by an apparition of two angels: and to hagar (gen. . .) by the apparition of one angel: and to abraham again (gen. . .) by the apparition of a voice from heaven: and (gen. . .) to isaac in the night; (that is, in his sleep, or by dream): and to jacob (gen. . .) in a dream; that is to say (as are the words of the text) "jacob dreamed that he saw a ladder, &c." and (gen. . .) in a vision of angels: and to moses (exod. . .) in the apparition of a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush: and after the time of moses, (where the manner how god spake immediately to man in the old testament, is expressed) hee spake alwaies by a vision, or by a dream; as to gideon, samuel, eliah, elisha, isaiah, ezekiel, and the rest of the prophets; and often in the new testament, as to joseph, to st. peter, to st. paul, and to st. john the evangelist in the apocalypse. onely to moses hee spake in a more extraordinary manner in mount sinai, and in the tabernacle; and to the high priest in the tabernacle, and in the sanctum sanctorum of the temple. but moses, and after him the high priests were prophets of a more eminent place, and degree in gods favour; and god himself in express words declareth, that to other prophets hee spake in dreams and visions, but to his servant moses, in such manner as a man speaketh to his friend. the words are these (numb. . , , .) "if there be a prophet among you, i the lord will make my self known to him in a vision, and will speak unto him in a dream. my servant moses is not so, who is faithfull in all my house; with him i will speak mouth to mouth, even apparently, not in dark speeches; and the similitude of the lord shall he behold." and (exod. . .) "the lord spake to moses face to face, as a man speaketh to his friend." and yet this speaking of god to moses, was by mediation of an angel, or angels, as appears expressely, acts . ver. . and . and gal. . . and was therefore a vision, though a more cleer vision than was given to other prophets. and conformable hereunto, where god saith (deut. . .) "if there arise amongst you a prophet, or dreamer of dreams," the later word is but the interpretation of the former. and (joel . .) "your sons and your daughters shall prophecy; your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions:" where again, the word prophecy is expounded by dream, and vision. and in the same manner it was, that god spake to solomon, promising him wisdome, riches, and honor; for the text saith, ( kings . .) "and solomon awoak, and behold it was a dream:" so that generally the prophets extraordinary in the old testament took notice of the word of god no otherwise, than from their dreams, or visions, that is to say, from the imaginations which they had in their sleep, or in an extasie; which imaginations in every true prophet were supernaturall; but in false prophets were either naturall, or feigned. the same prophets were neverthelesse said to speak by the spirit; as (zach. . .) where the prophet speaking of the jewes, saith, "they made their hearths hard as adamant, lest they should hear the law, and the words which the lord of hosts hath sent in his spirit by the former prophets." by which it is manifest, that speaking by the spirit, or inspiration, was not a particular manner of gods speaking, different from vision, when they that were said to speak by the spirit, were extraordinary prophets, such as for every new message, were to have a particular commission, or (which is all one) a new dream, or vision. to prophets of perpetuall calling, and supreme, god spake in the old testament from the mercy seat, in a manner not expressed in the scripture. of prophets, that were so by a perpetuall calling in the old testament, some were supreme, and some subordinate: supreme were first moses; and after him the high priest, every one for his time, as long as the priesthood was royall; and after the people of the jews, had rejected god, that he should no more reign over them, those kings which submitted themselves to gods government, were also his chief prophets; and the high priests office became ministeriall. and when god was to be consulted, they put on the holy vestments, and enquired of the lord, as the king commanded them, and were deprived of their office, when the king thought fit. for king saul ( sam. . .) commanded the burnt offering to be brought, and ( sam. . .) he commands the priest to bring the ark neer him; and (ver. .) again to let it alone, because he saw an advantage upon his enemies. and in the same chapter saul asketh counsell of god. in like manner king david, after his being anointed, though before he had possession of the kingdome, is said to "enquire of the lord" ( sam. . .) whether he should fight against the philistines at keilah; and (verse .) david commandeth the priest to bring him the ephod, to enquire whether he should stay in keilah, or not. and king solomon ( kings . .) took the priesthood from abiathar, and gave it (verse .) to zadoc. therefore moses, and the high priests, and the pious kings, who enquired of god on all extraordinary occasions, how they were to carry themselves, or what event they were to have, were all soveraign prophets. but in what manner god spake unto them, is not manifest. to say that when moses went up to god in mount sinai, it was a dream, or vision, such as other prophets had, is contrary to that distinction which god made between moses, and other prophets, numb. . , , . to say god spake or appeared as he is in his own nature, is to deny his infinitenesse, invisibility, incomprehensibility. to say he spake by inspiration, or infusion of the holy spirit, as the holy spirit signifieth the deity, is to make moses equall with christ, in whom onely the godhead (as st. paul speaketh col. . .) dwelleth bodily. and lastly, to say he spake by the holy spirit, as it signifieth the graces, or gifts of the holy spirit, is to attribute nothing to him supernaturall. for god disposeth men to piety, justice, mercy, truth, faith, and all manner of vertue, both morall, and intellectuall, by doctrine, example, and by severall occasions, naturall, and ordinary. and as these ways cannot be applyed to god, in his speaking to moses, at mount sinai; so also, they cannot be applyed to him, in his speaking to the high priests, from the mercy-seat. therefore in what manner god spake to those soveraign prophets of the old testament, whose office it was to enquire of him, is not intelligible. in the time of the new testament, there was no soveraign prophet, but our saviour; who was both god that spake, and the prophet to whom he spake. to prophets of perpetuall calling, but subordinate, god spake by the spirit. to subordinate prophets of perpetuall calling, i find not any place that proveth god spake to them supernaturally; but onely in such manner, as naturally he inclineth men to piety, to beleef, to righteousnesse, and to other vertues all other christian men. which way, though it consist in constitution, instruction, education, and the occasions and invitements men have to christian vertues; yet it is truly attributed to the operation of the spirit of god, or holy spirit (which we in our language call the holy ghost): for there is no good inclination, that is not of the operation of god. but these operations are not alwaies supernaturall. when therefore a prophet is said to speak in the spirit, or by the spirit of god, we are to understand no more, but that he speaks according to gods will, declared by the supreme prophet. for the most common acceptation of the word spirit, is in the signification of a mans intention, mind, or disposition. in the time of moses, there were seventy men besides himself, that prophecyed in the campe of the israelites. in what manner god spake to them, is declared in the of numbers, verse . "the lord came down in a cloud, and spake unto moses, and took of the spirit that was upon him, and gave it to the seventy elders. and it came to passe, when the spirit rested upon them, they prophecyed, and did not cease," by which it is manifest, first, that their prophecying to the people, was subservient, and subordinate to the prophecying of moses; for that god took of the spirit of moses, to put upon them; so that they prophecyed as moses would have them: otherwise they had not been suffered to prophecy at all. for there was (verse .) a complaint made against them to moses; and joshua would have moses to have forbidden them; which he did not, but said to joshua, bee not jealous in my behalf. secondly, that the spirit of god in that place, signifieth nothing but the mind and disposition to obey, and assist moses in the administration of the government. for if it were meant they had the substantial spirit of god; that is, the divine nature, inspired into them, then they had it in no lesse manner than christ himself, in whom onely the spirit of god dwelt bodily. it is meant therefore of the gift and grace of god, that guided them to co-operate with moses; from whom their spirit was derived. and it appeareth (verse .) that, they were such as moses himself should appoint for elders and officers of the people: for the words are, "gather unto me seventy men, whom thou knowest to be elders and officers of the people:" where, "thou knowest," is the same with "thou appointest," or "hast appointed to be such." for we are told before (exod. .) that moses following the counsell of jethro his father-in-law, did appoint judges, and officers over the people, such as feared god; and of these, were those seventy, whom god by putting upon them moses spirit, inclined to aid moses in the administration of the kingdome: and in this sense the spirit of god is said ( sam. . , .) presently upon the anointing of david, to have come upon david, and left saul; god giving his graces to him he chose to govern his people, and taking them away from him, he rejected. so that by the spirit is meant inclination to gods service; and not any supernaturall revelation. god sometimes also spake by lots god spake also many times by the event of lots; which were ordered by such as he had put in authority over his people. so wee read that god manifested by the lots which saul caused to be drawn ( sam. . .) the fault that jonathan had committed, in eating a honey-comb, contrary to the oath taken by the people. and (josh. . .) god divided the land of canaan amongst the israelite, by the "lots that joshua did cast before the lord in shiloh." in the same manner it seemeth to be, that god discovered (joshua . ., &c.) the crime of achan. and these are the wayes whereby god declared his will in the old testament. all which ways he used also in the new testament. to the virgin mary, by a vision of an angel: to joseph in a dream: again to paul in the way to damascus in a vision of our saviour: and to peter in the vision of a sheet let down from heaven, with divers sorts of flesh, of clean and unclean, beasts; and in prison, by vision of an angel: and to all the apostles, and writers of the new testament, by the graces of his spirit; and to the apostles again (at the choosing of matthias in the place of judas iscariot) by lot. every man ought to examine the probability of a pretended prophets calling seeing then all prophecy supposeth vision, or dream, (which two, when they be naturall, are the same,) or some especiall gift of god, so rarely observed in mankind, as to be admired where observed; and seeing as well such gifts, as the most extraordinary dreams, and visions, may proceed from god, not onely by his supernaturall, and immediate, but also by his naturall operation, and by mediation of second causes; there is need of reason and judgement to discern between naturall, and supernaturall gifts, and between naturall, and supernaturall visions, or dreams. and consequently men had need to be very circumspect, and wary, in obeying the voice of man, that pretending himself to be a prophet, requires us to obey god in that way, which he in gods name telleth us to be the way to happinesse. for he that pretends to teach men the way of so great felicity, pretends to govern them; that is to say, to rule, and reign over them; which is a thing, that all men naturally desire, and is therefore worthy to be suspected of ambition and imposture; and consequently, ought to be examined, and tryed by every man, before hee yeeld them obedience; unlesse he have yeelded it them already, in the institution of a common-wealth; as when the prophet is the civill soveraign, or by the civil soveraign authorized. and if this examination of prophets, and spirits, were not allowed to every one of the people, it had been to no purpose, to set out the marks, by which every man might be able, to distinguish between those, whom they ought, and those whom they ought not to follow. seeing therefore such marks are set out (deut. . ,&c.) to know a prophet by; and ( john . .&c) to know a spirit by: and seeing there is so much prophecying in the old testament; and so much preaching in the new testament against prophets; and so much greater a number ordinarily of false prophets, then of true; every one is to beware of obeying their directions, at their own perill. and first, that there were many more false than true prophets, appears by this, that when ahab ( kings .) consulted four hundred prophets, they were all false imposters, but onely one michaiah. and a little before the time of the captivity, the prophets were generally lyars. "the prophets" (saith the lord by jerem. cha. . verse .) "prophecy lies in my name. i sent them not, neither have i commanded them, nor spake unto them, they prophecy to you a false vision, a thing of naught; and the deceit of their heart." in so much as god commanded the people by the mouth of the prophet jeremiah (chap. . .) not to obey them. "thus saith the lord of hosts, hearken not unto the words of the prophets, that prophecy to you. they make you vain, they speak a vision of their own heart, and not out of the mouth of the lord." all prophecy but of the soveraign prophet is to be examined by every subject seeing then there was in the time of the old testament, such quarrells amongst the visionary prophets, one contesting with another, and asking when departed the spirit from me, to go to thee? as between michaiah, and the rest of the four hundred; and such giving of the lye to one another, (as in jerem. . .) and such controversies in the new testament at this day, amongst the spirituall prophets: every man then was, and now is bound to make use of his naturall reason, to apply to all prophecy those rules which god hath given us, to discern the true from the false. of which rules, in the old testament, one was, conformable doctrine to that which moses the soveraign prophet had taught them; and the other the miraculous power of foretelling what god would bring to passe, as i have already shown out of deut. . . &c. and in the new testament there was but one onely mark; and that was the preaching of this doctrine, that jesus is the christ, that is, the king of the jews, promised in the old testament. whosoever denyed that article, he was a false prophet, whatsoever miracles he might seem to work; and he that taught it was a true prophet. for st. john ( epist, . , &c) speaking expressely of the means to examine spirits, whether they be of god, or not; after he hath told them that there would arise false prophets, saith thus, "hereby know ye the spirit of god. every spirit that confesseth that jesus christ is come in the flesh, is of god;" that is, is approved and allowed as a prophet of god: not that he is a godly man, or one of the elect, for this, that he confesseth, professeth, or preacheth jesus to be the christ; but for that he is a prophet avowed. for god sometimes speaketh by prophets, whose persons he hath not accepted; as he did by baalam; and as he foretold saul of his death, by the witch of endor. again in the next verse, "every spirit that confesseth not that jesus christ is come in the flesh, is not of christ. and this is the spirit of antichrist." so that the rule is perfect on both sides; that he is a true prophet, which preacheth the messiah already come, in the person of jesus; and he a false one that denyeth him come, and looketh for him in some future imposter, that shall take upon him that honour falsely, whom the apostle there properly calleth antichrist. every man therefore ought to consider who is the soveraign prophet; that is to say, who it is, that is gods viceregent on earth; and hath next under god, the authority of governing christian men; and to observe for a rule, that doctrine, which in the name of god, hee commanded to bee taught; and thereby to examine and try out the truth of those doctrines, which pretended prophets with miracles, or without, shall at any time advance: and if they find it contrary to that rule, to doe as they did, that came to moses, and complained that there were some that prophecyed in the campe, whose authority so to doe they doubted of; and leave to the soveraign, as they did to moses to uphold, or to forbid them, as hee should see cause; and if hee disavow them, then no more to obey their voice; or if he approve them, then to obey them, as men to whom god hath given a part of the spirit of their soveraigne. for when christian men, take not their christian soveraign, for gods prophet; they must either take their owne dreams, for the prophecy they mean to bee governed by, and the tumour of their own hearts for the spirit of god; or they must suffer themselves to bee lead by some strange prince; or by some of their fellow subjects, that can bewitch them, by slander of the government, into rebellion, without other miracle to confirm their calling, then sometimes an extraordinary successe, and impunity; and by this means destroying all laws, both divine, and humane, reduce all order, government, and society, to the first chaos of violence, and civill warre. chapter xxxvii. of miracles, and their use a miracle is a work that causeth admiration by miracles are signified the admirable works of god: & therefore they are also called wonders. and because they are for the most part, done, for a signification of his commandement, in such occasions, as without them, men are apt to doubt, (following their private naturall reasoning,) what he hath commanded, and what not, they are commonly in holy scripture, called signes, in the same sense, as they are called by the latines, ostenta, and portenta, from shewing, and fore-signifying that, which the almighty is about to bring to passe. and must therefore be rare, whereof there is no naturall cause known to understand therefore what is a miracle, we must first understand what works they are, which men wonder at, and call admirable. and there be but two things which make men wonder at any event: the one is, if it be strange, that is to say, such, as the like of it hath never, or very rarely been produced: the other is, if when it is produced, we cannot imagine it to have been done by naturall means, but onely by the immediate hand of god. but when wee see some possible, naturall cause of it, how rarely soever the like has been done; or if the like have been often done, how impossible soever it be to imagine a naturall means thereof, we no more wonder, nor esteem it for a miracle. therefore, if a horse, or cow should speak, it were a miracle; because both the thing is strange, & the naturall cause difficult to imagin: so also were it, to see a strange deviation of nature, in the production of some new shape of a living creature. but when a man, or other animal, engenders his like, though we know no more how this is done, than the other; yet because 'tis usuall, it is no miracle. in like manner, if a man be metamorphosed into a stone, or into a pillar, it is a miracle; because strange: but if a peece of wood be so changed; because we see it often, it is no miracle: and yet we know no more, by what operation of god, the one is brought to passe, than the other. the first rainbow that was seen in the world, was a miracle, because the first; and consequently strange; and served for a sign from god, placed in heaven, to assure his people, there should be no more an universall destruction of the world by water. but at this day, because they are frequent, they are not miracles, neither to them that know their naturall causes, nor to them who know them not. again, there be many rare works produced by the art of man: yet when we know they are done; because thereby wee know also the means how they are done, we count them not for miracles, because not wrought by the immediate hand of god, but by mediation of humane industry. that which seemeth a miracle to one man, may seem otherwise to another furthermore, seeing admiration and wonder, is consequent to the knowledge and experience, wherewith men are endued, some more, some lesse; it followeth, that the same thing, may be a miracle to one, and not to another. and thence it is, that ignorant, and superstitious men make great wonders of those works, which other men, knowing to proceed from nature, (which is not the immediate, but the ordinary work of god,) admire not at all: as when ecclipses of the sun and moon have been taken for supernaturall works, by the common people; when neverthelesse, there were others, could from their naturall causes, have foretold the very hour they should arrive: or, as when a man, by confederacy, and secret intelligence, getting knowledge of the private actions of an ignorant, unwary man, thereby tells him, what he has done in former time; it seems to him a miraculous thing; but amongst wise, and cautelous men, such miracles as those, cannot easily be done. the end of miracles again, it belongeth to the nature of a miracle, that it be wrought for the procuring of credit to gods messengers, ministers, and prophets, that thereby men may know, they are called, sent, and employed by god, and thereby be the better inclined to obey them. and therefore, though the creation of the world, and after that the destruction of all living creatures in the universall deluge, were admirable works; yet because they were not done to procure credit to any prophet, or other minister of god, they use not to be called miracles. for how admirable soever any work be, the admiration consisteth not in that it could be done, because men naturally beleeve the almighty can doe all things, but because he does it at the prayer, or word of a man. but the works of god in egypt, by the hand of moses, were properly miracles; because they were done with intention to make the people of israel beleeve, that moses came unto them, not out of any design of his owne interest, but as sent from god. therefore after god had commanded him to deliver the israelites from the egyptian bondage, when he said (exod . . &c.) "they will not beleeve me, but will say, the lord hath not appeared unto me," god gave him power, to turn the rod he had in his hand into a serpent, and again to return it into a rod; and by putting his hand into his bosome, to make it leprous; and again by pulling it out to make it whole, to make the children of israel beleeve (as it is verse .) that the god of their fathers had appeared unto him; and if that were not enough, he gave him power to turn their waters into bloud. and when hee had done these miracles before the people, it is said (verse .) that "they beleeved him." neverthelesse, for fear of pharaoh, they durst not yet obey him. therefore the other works which were done to plague pharaoh and the egyptians, tended all to make the israelites beleeve in moses, and were properly miracles. in like manner if we consider all the miracles done by the hand of moses, and all the rest of the prophets, till the captivity; and those of our saviour, and his apostles afterward; we shall find, their end was alwaies to beget, or confirm beleefe, that they came not of their own motion, but were sent by god. wee may further observe in scripture, that the end of miracles, was to beget beleef, not universally in all men, elect, and reprobate; but in the elect only; that is to say, is such as god had determined should become his subjects. for those miraculous plagues of egypt, had not for end, the conversion of pharaoh; for god had told moses before, that he would harden the heart of pharaoh, that he should not let the people goe: and when he let them goe at last, not the miracles perswaded him, but the plagues forced him to it. so also of our saviour, it is written, (mat. . .) that he wrought not many miracles in his own countrey, because of their unbeleef; and (in marke . .) in stead of, "he wrought not many," it is, "he could work none." it was not because he wanted power; which to say, were blasphemy against god; nor that the end of miracles was not to convert incredulous men to christ; for the end of all the miracles of moses, of prophets, of our saviour, and of his apostles was to adde men to the church; but it was, because the end of their miracles, was to adde to the church (not all men, but) such as should be saved; that is to say, such as god had elected. seeing therefore our saviour sent from his father, hee could not use his power in the conversion of those, whom his father had rejected. they that expounding this place of st. marke, say, that his word, "hee could not," is put for, "he would not," do it without example in the greek tongue, (where would not, is put sometimes for could not, in things inanimate, that have no will; but could not, for would not, never,) and thereby lay a stumbling block before weak christians; as if christ could doe no miracles, but amongst the credulous. the definition of a miracle from that which i have here set down, of the nature, and use of a miracle, we may define it thus, "a miracle, is a work of god, (besides his operation by the way of nature, ordained in the creation,) done for the making manifest to his elect, the mission of an extraordinary minister for their salvation." and from this definition, we may inferre; first, that in all miracles, the work done, is not the effect of any vertue in the prophet; because it is the effect of the immediate hand of god; that is to say god hath done it, without using the prophet therein, as a subordinate cause. secondly, that no devil, angel, or other created spirit, can do a miracle. for it must either be by vertue of some naturall science, or by incantation, that is, vertue of words. for if the inchanters do it by their own power independent, there is some power that proceedeth not from god; which all men deny: and if they doe it by power given them, then is the work not from the immediate hand of god, but naturall, and consequently no miracle. there be some texts of scripture, that seem to attribute the power of working wonders (equall to some of those immediate miracles, wrought by god himself,) to certain arts of magick, and incantation. as for example, when we read that after the rod of moses being cast on the ground became a serpent, (exod. . .) "the magicians of egypt did the like by their enchantments;" and that after moses had turned the waters of the egyptian streams, rivers, ponds, and pooles of water into blood, (exod. . .) "the magicians of egypt did so likewise, with their enchantments;" and that after moses had by the power of god brought frogs upon the land, (exod. . .) "the magicians also did so with their enchantments, and brought up frogs upon the land of egypt;" will not a man be apt to attribute miracles to enchantments; that is to say, to the efficacy of the sound of words; and think the same very well proved out of this, and other such places? and yet there is no place of scripture, that telleth us what on enchantment is. if therefore enchantment be not, as many think it, a working of strange effects by spells, and words; but imposture, and delusion, wrought by ordinary means; and so far from supernaturall, as the impostors need not the study so much as of naturall causes, but the ordinary ignorance, stupidity, and superstition of mankind, to doe them; those texts that seem to countenance the power of magick, witchcraft, and enchantment, must needs have another sense, than at first sight they seem to bear. that men are apt to be deceived by false miracles for it is evident enough, that words have no effect, but on those that understand them; and then they have no other, but to signifie the intentions, or passions of them that speak; and thereby produce, hope, fear, or other passions, or conceptions in the hearer. therefore when a rod seemeth a serpent, or the water bloud, or any other miracle seemeth done by enchantment; if it be not to the edification of gods people, not the rod, nor the water, nor any other thing is enchanted; that is to say, wrought upon by the words, but the spectator. so that all the miracle consisteth in this, that the enchanter has deceived a man; which is no miracle, but a very easie matter to doe. for such is the ignorance, and aptitude to error generally of all men, but especially of them that have not much knowledge of naturall causes, and of the nature, and interests of men; as by innumerable and easie tricks to be abused. what opinion of miraculous power, before it was known there was a science of the course of the stars, might a man have gained, that should have told the people, this hour, or day the sun should be darkned? a juggler by the handling of his goblets, and other trinkets, if it were not now ordinarily practised, would be thought to do his wonders by the power at least of the devil. a man that hath practised to speak by drawing in of his breath, (which kind of men in antient time were called ventriloqui,) and so make the weaknesse of his voice seem to proceed, not from the weak impulsion of the organs of speech, but from distance of place, is able to make very many men beleeve it is a voice from heaven, whatsoever he please to tell them. and for a crafty man, that hath enquired into the secrets, and familiar confessions that one man ordinarily maketh to another of his actions and adventures past, to tell them him again is no hard matter; and yet there be many, that by such means as that, obtain the reputation of being conjurers. but it is too long a businesse, to reckon up the severall sorts of those men, which the greeks called thaumaturgi, that is to say, workers of things wonderfull; and yet these do all they do, by their own single dexterity. but if we looke upon the impostures wrought by confederacy, there is nothing how impossible soever to be done, that is impossible to bee beleeved. for two men conspiring, one to seem lame, the other to cure him with a charme, will deceive many: but many conspiring, one to seem lame, another so to cure him, and all the rest to bear witnesse; will deceive many more. cautions against the imposture of miracles in this aptitude of mankind, to give too hasty beleefe to pretended miracles, there can be no better, nor i think any other caution, than that which god hath prescribed, first by moses, (as i have said before in the precedent chapter,) in the beginning of the . and end of the . of deuteronomy; that wee take not any for prophets, that teach any other religion, then that which gods lieutenant, (which at that time was moses,) hath established; nor any, (though he teach the same religion,) whose praediction we doe not see come to passe. moses therefore in his time, and aaron, and his successors in their times, and the soveraign governour of gods people, next under god himself, that is to say, the head of the church in all times, are to be consulted, what doctrine he hath established, before wee give credit to a pretended miracle, or prophet. and when that is done, the thing they pretend to be a miracle, we must both see it done, and use all means possible to consider, whether it be really done; and not onely so, but whether it be such, as no man can do the like by his naturall power, but that it requires the immediate hand of god. and in this also we must have recourse to gods lieutenant; to whom in all doubtfull cases, wee have submitted our private judgments. for example; if a man pretend, that after certain words spoken over a peece of bread, that presently god hath made it not bread, but a god, or a man, or both, and neverthelesse it looketh still as like bread as ever it did; there is no reason for any man to think it really done; nor consequently to fear him, till he enquire of god, by his vicar, or lieutenant, whether it be done, or not. if he say not, then followeth that which moses saith, (deut. . .) "he hath spoken it presumptuously, thou shalt not fear him." if he say 'tis done, then he is not to contradict it. so also if wee see not, but onely hear tell of a miracle, we are to consult the lawful church; that is to say, the lawful head thereof, how far we are to give credit to the relators of it. and this is chiefly the case of men, that in these days live under christian soveraigns. for in these times, i do not know one man, that ever saw any such wondrous work, done by the charm, or at the word, or prayer of a man, that a man endued but with a mediocrity of reason, would think supernaturall: and the question is no more, whether what wee see done, be a miracle; whether the miracle we hear, or read of, were a reall work, and not the act of a tongue, or pen; but in plain terms, whether the report be true, or a lye. in which question we are not every one, to make our own private reason, or conscience, but the publique reason, that is, the reason of gods supreme lieutenant, judge; and indeed we have made him judge already, if wee have given him a soveraign power, to doe all that is necessary for our peace and defence. a private man has alwaies the liberty, (because thought is free,) to beleeve, or not beleeve in his heart, those acts that have been given out for miracles, according as he shall see, what benefit can accrew by mens belief, to those that pretend, or countenance them, and thereby conjecture, whether they be miracles, or lies. but when it comes to confession of that faith, the private reason must submit to the publique; that is to say, to gods lieutenant. but who is this lieutenant of god, and head of the church, shall be considered in its proper place thereafter. chapter xxxviii. of the signification in scripture of eternall life, hell, salvation, the world to come, and redemption the maintenance of civill society, depending on justice; and justice on the power of life and death, and other lesse rewards and punishments, residing in them that have the soveraignty of the common-wealth; it is impossible a common-wealth should stand, where any other than the soveraign, hath a power of giving greater rewards than life; and of inflicting greater punishments than death. now seeing eternall life is a greater reward, than the life present; and eternall torment a greater punishment than the death of nature; it is a thing worthy to be well considered, of all men that desire (by obeying authority) to avoid the calamities of confusion, and civill war, what is meant in holy scripture, by life eternall, and torment eternall; and for what offences, against whom committed, men are to be eternally tormented; and for what actions, they are to obtain eternall life. place of adams eternity if he had not sinned, the terrestrial paradise and first we find, that adam was created in such a condition of life, as had he not broken the commandement of god, he had enjoyed it in the paradise of eden everlastingly. for there was the tree of life; whereof he was so long allowed to eat, as he should forbear to eat of the tree of knowledge of good an evill; which was not allowed him. and therefore as soon as he had eaten of it, god thrust him out of paradise, "lest he should put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and live for ever." (gen. . .) by which it seemeth to me, (with submission neverthelesse both in this, and in all questions, whereof the determination dependeth on the scriptures, to the interpretation of the bible authorized by the common-wealth, whose subject i am,) that adam if he had not sinned, had had an eternall life on earth: and that mortality entred upon himself, and his posterity, by his first sin. not that actuall death then entred; for adam then could never have had children; whereas he lived long after, and saw a numerous posterity ere he dyed. but where it is said, "in the day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die," it must needs bee meant of his mortality, and certitude of death. seeing then eternall life was lost by adams forfeiture, in committing sin, he that should cancell that forfeiture was to recover thereby, that life again. now jesus christ hath satisfied for the sins of all that beleeve in him; and therefore recovered to all beleevers, that eternall life, which was lost by the sin of adam. and in this sense it is, that the comparison of st. paul holdeth (rom. . , .) "as by the offence of one, judgment came upon all men to condemnation, even so by the righteousnesse of one, the free gift came upon all men to justification of life." which is again ( cor. . , ) more perspicuously delivered in these words, "for since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. for as in adam all die, even so in christ shall all be made alive." texts concerning the place of life eternall for beleevers concerning the place wherein men shall enjoy that eternall life, which christ hath obtained for them, the texts next before alledged seem to make it on earth. for if as in adam, all die, that is, have forfeited paradise, and eternall life on earth; even so in christ all shall be made alive; then all men shall be made to live on earth; for else the comparison were not proper. hereunto seemeth to agree that of the psalmist, (psal. . .) "upon zion god commanded the blessing, even life for evermore;" for zion, is in jerusalem, upon earth: as also that of s. joh. (rev. . .) "to him that overcommeth i will give to eat of the tree of life, which is in the midst of the paradise of god." this was the tree of adams eternall life; but his life was to have been on earth. the same seemeth to be confirmed again by st. joh. (rev. . .) where he saith, "i john saw the holy city, new jerusalem, coming down from god out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband:" and again v. . to the same effect: as if he should say, the new jerusalem, the paradise of god, at the coming again of christ, should come down to gods people from heaven, and not they goe up to it from earth. and this differs nothing from that, which the two men in white clothing (that is, the two angels) said to the apostles, that were looking upon christ ascending (acts . .) "this same jesus, who is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come, as you have seen him go up into heaven." which soundeth as if they had said, he should come down to govern them under his father, eternally here; and not take them up to govern them in heaven; and is conformable to the restauration of the kingdom of god, instituted under moses; which was a political government of the jews on earth. again, that saying of our saviour (mat. . .) "that in the resurrection they neither marry, nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of god in heaven," is a description of an eternall life, resembling that which we lost in adam in the point of marriage. for seeing adam, and eve, if they had not sinned, had lived on earth eternally, in their individuall persons; it is manifest, they should not continually have procreated their kind. for if immortals should have generated, as mankind doth now; the earth in a small time, would not have been able to afford them a place to stand on. the jews that asked our saviour the question, whose wife the woman that had married many brothers, should be, in the resurrection, knew not what were the consequences of immortality; that there shal be no generation, and consequently no marriage, no more than there is marriage, or generation among the angels. the comparison between that eternall life which adam lost, and our saviour by his victory over death hath recovered; holdeth also in this, that as adam lost eternall life by his sin, and yet lived after it for a time; so the faithful christian hath recovered eternal life by christs passion, though he die a natural death, and remaine dead for a time; namely, till the resurrection. for as death is reckoned from the condemnation of adam, not from the execution; so life is reckoned from the absolution, not from the resurrection of them that are elected in christ. ascension into heaven that the place wherein men are to live eternally, after the resurrection, is the heavens, meaning by heaven, those parts of the world, which are the most remote from earth, as where the stars are, or above the stars, in another higher heaven, called caelum empyreum, (whereof there is no mention in scripture, nor ground in reason) is not easily to be drawn from any text that i can find. by the kingdome of heaven, is meant the kingdome of the king that dwelleth in heaven; and his kingdome was the people of israel, whom he ruled by the prophets his lieutenants, first moses, and after him eleazar, and the soveraign priests, till in the days of samuel they rebelled, and would have a mortall man for their king, after the manner of other nations. and when our saviour christ, by the preaching of his ministers, shall have perswaded the jews to return, and called the gentiles to his obedience, then shall there be a new kingdome of heaven, because our king shall then be god, whose throne is heaven; without any necessity evident in the scripture, that man shall ascend to his happinesse any higher than gods footstool the earth. on the contrary, we find written (joh. . .) that "no man hath ascended into heaven, but he that came down from heaven, even the son of man, that is in heaven." where i observe by the way, that these words are not, as those which go immediately before, the words of our saviour, but of st. john himself; for christ was then not in heaven, but upon the earth. the like is said of david (acts . .) where st. peter, to prove the ascension of christ, using the words of the psalmist, (psal. . .) "thou wilt not leave my soule in hell, nor suffer thine holy one to see corruption," saith, they were spoken (not of david, but) of christ; and to prove it, addeth this reason, "for david is not ascended into heaven." but to this a man may easily answer, and say, that though their bodies were not to ascend till the generall day of judgment, yet their souls were in heaven as soon as they were departed from their bodies; which also seemeth to be confirmed by the words of our saviour (luke . , .) who proving the resurrection out of the word of moses, saith thus, "that the dead are raised, even moses shewed, at the bush, when he calleth the lord, the god of abraham, and the god of isaac, and the god of jacob. for he is not a god of the dead, but of the living; for they all live to him." but if these words be to be understood only of the immortality of the soul, they prove not at all that which our saviour intended to prove, which was the resurrection of the body, that is to say, the immortality of the man. therefore our saviour meaneth, that those patriarchs were immortall; not by a property consequent to the essence, and nature of mankind, but by the will of god, that was pleased of his mere grace, to bestow eternall life upon the faithfull. and though at that time the patriarchs and many other faithfull men were dead, yet as it is in the text, they lived to god; that is, they were written in the book of life with them that were absolved of their sinnes, and ordained to life eternall at the resurrection. that the soul of man is in its own nature eternall, and a living creature independent on the body; or that any meer man is immortall, otherwise than by the resurrection in the last day, (except enos and elias,) is a doctrine not apparent in scripture. the whole . chapter of job, which is the speech not of his friends, but of himselfe, is a complaint of this mortality of nature; and yet no contradiction of the immortality at the resurrection. "there is hope of a tree," (saith hee verse .) "if it be cast down, though the root thereof wax old, and the stock thereof die in the ground, yet when it scenteth the water it will bud, and bring forth boughes like a plant. but man dyeth, and wasteth away, yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?" and (verse .) "man lyeth down, and riseth not, till the heavens be no more." but when is it, that the heavens shall be no more? st. peter tells us, that it is at the generall resurrection. for in his . epistle, . chapter, and . verse, he saith, that "the heavens and the earth that are now, are reserved unto fire against the day of judgment, and perdition of ungodly men," and (verse .) "looking for, and hasting to the comming of god, wherein the heavens shall be on fire, and shall be dissolved, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat. neverthelesse, we according to the promise look for new heavens, and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousnesse." therefore where job saith, man riseth not till the heavens be no more; it is all one, as if he had said, the immortall life (and soule and life in the scripture, do usually signifie the same thing) beginneth not in man, till the resurrection, and day of judgment; and hath for cause, not his specificall nature, and generation; but the promise. for st. peter saies not, "wee look for new heavens, and a new earth, (from nature) but from promise." lastly, seeing it hath been already proved out of divers evident places of scripture, in the . chapter of this book, that the kingdom of god is a civil common-wealth, where god himself is soveraign, by vertue first of the old, and since of the new covenant, wherein he reigneth by his vicar, or lieutenant; the same places do therefore also prove, that after the comming again of our saviour in his majesty, and glory, to reign actually, and eternally; the kingdom of god is to be on earth. but because this doctrine (though proved out of places of scripture not few, nor obscure) will appear to most men a novelty; i doe but propound it; maintaining nothing in this, or any other paradox of religion; but attending the end of that dispute of the sword, concerning the authority, (not yet amongst my countrey-men decided,) by which all sorts of doctrine are to bee approved, or rejected; and whose commands, both in speech, and writing, (whatsoever be the opinions of private men) must by all men, that mean to be protected by their laws, be obeyed. for the points of doctrine concerning the kingdome (of) god, have so great influence on the kingdome of man, as not to be determined, but by them, that under god have the soveraign power. the place after judgment, of those who were never in the kingdome of god, or having been in, are cast out as the kingdome of god, and eternall life, so also gods enemies, and their torments after judgment, appear by the scripture, to have their place on earth. the name of the place, where all men remain till the resurrection, that were either buryed, or swallowed up of the earth, is usually called in scripture, by words that signifie under ground; which the latines read generally infernus, and inferni, and the greeks hades; that is to say, a place where men cannot see; and containeth as well the grave, as any other deeper place. but for the place of the damned after the resurrection, it is not determined, neither in the old, nor new testament, by any note of situation; but onely by the company: as that it shall bee, where such wicked men were, as god in former times in extraordinary, and miraculous manner, had destroyed from off the face of the earth: as for example, that they are in inferno, in tartarus, or in the bottomelesse pit; because corah, dathan, and abirom, were swallowed up alive into the earth. not that the writers of the scripture would have us beleeve, there could be in the globe of the earth, which is not only finite, but also (compared to the height of the stars) of no considerable magnitude, a pit without a bottome; that is, a hole of infinite depth, such as the greeks in their daemonologie (that is to say, in their doctrine concerning daemons,) and after them, the romans called tartarus; of which virgill sayes, bis patet in praeceps, tantem tenditque sub umbras, quantus ad aethereum coeli suspectus olympum: for that is a thing the proportion of earth to heaven cannot bear: but that wee should beleeve them there, indefinitely, where those men are, on whom god inflicted that exemplary punnishment. the congregation of giants again, because those mighty men of the earth, that lived in the time of noah, before the floud, (which the greeks called heroes, and the scripture giants, and both say, were begotten, by copulation of the children of god, with the children of men,) were for their wicked life destroyed by the generall deluge; the place of the damned, is therefore also sometimes marked out, by the company of those deceased giants; as proverbs . . "the man that wandreth out of the way of understanding, shall remain in the congregation of the giants," and job . . "behold the giants groan under water, and they that dwell with them." here the place of the damned, is under the water. and isaiah . . "hell is troubled how to meet thee," (that is, the king of babylon) "and will displace the giants for thee:" and here again the place of the damned, (if the sense be literall,) is to be under water. lake of fire thirdly, because the cities of sodom, and gomorrah, by the extraordinary wrath of god, were consumed for their wickednesse with fire and brimstone, and together with them the countrey about made a stinking bituminous lake; the place of the damned is sometimes expressed by fire, and a fiery lake: as in the apocalypse ch. . . "but the timorous, incredulous, and abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolators, and all lyars, shall have their part in the lake that burneth with fire, and brimstone; which is the second death." so that it is manifest, that hell fire, which is here expressed by metaphor, from the reall fire of sodome, signifieth not any certain kind, or place of torment; but is to be taken indefinitely, for destruction, as it is in the . chapter, at the . verse; where it is said, that "death and hell were cast into the lake of fire;" that is to say, were abolished, and destroyed; as if after the day of judgment, there shall be no more dying, nor no more going into hell; that is, no more going to hades (from which word perhaps our word hell is derived,) which is the same with no more dying. utter darknesse fourthly, from the plague of darknesse inflicted on the egyptians, of which it is written (exod. . .) "they saw not one another, neither rose any man from his place for three days; but all the children of israel had light in their dwellings;" the place of the wicked after judgment, is called utter darknesse, or (as it is in the originall) darknesse without. and so it is expressed (mat. . .) where the king commandeth his servants, "to bind hand and foot the man that had not on his wedding garment, and to cast him out," eis to skotos to exoteron, externall darknesse, or darknesse without: which though translated utter darknesse, does not signifie how great, but where that darknesse is to be; namely, without the habitation of gods elect. gehenna, and tophet lastly, whereas there was a place neer jerusalem, called the valley of the children of hinnon; in a part whereof, called tophet, the jews had committed most grievous idolatry, sacrificing their children to the idol moloch; and wherein also god had afflicted his enemies with most grievous punishments; and wherein josias had burnt the priests of moloch upon their own altars, as appeareth at large in the of kings chap. . the place served afterwards, to receive the filth, and garbage which was carried thither, out of the city; and there used to be fires made, from time to time, to purifie the aire, and take away the stench of carrion. from this abominable place, the jews used ever after to call the place of the damned, by the name of gehenna, or valley of hinnon. and this gehenna, is that word, which is usually now translated hell; and from the fires from time to time there burning, we have the notion of everlasting, and unquenchable fire. of the literall sense of the scripture concerning hell seeing now there is none, that so interprets the scripture, as that after the day of judgment, the wicked are all eternally to be punished in the valley of hinnon; or that they shall so rise again, as to be ever after under ground, or under water; or that after the resurrection, they shall no more see one another; nor stir from one place to another; it followeth, me thinks, very necessarily, that that which is thus said concerning hell fire, is spoken metaphorically; and that therefore there is a proper sense to bee enquired after, (for of all metaphors there is some reall ground, that may be expressed in proper words) both of the place of hell, and the nature of hellish torment, and tormenters. satan, devill, not proper names, but appellatives and first for the tormenters, wee have their nature, and properties, exactly and properly delivered by the names of, the enemy, or satan; the accuser, or diabolus; the destroyer, or abbadon. which significant names, satan, devill, abbadon, set not forth to us any individuall person, as proper names use to doe; but onely an office, or quality; and are therefore appellatives; which ought not to have been left untranslated, as they are, in the latine, and modern bibles; because thereby they seem to be the proper names of daemons; and men are the more easily seduced to beleeve the doctrine of devills; which at that time was the religion of the gentiles, and contrary to that of moses, and of christ. and because by the enemy, the accuser, and destroyer, is meant, the enemy of them that shall be in the kingdome of god; therefore if the kingdome of god after the resurrection, bee upon the earth, (as in the former chapter i have shewn by scripture it seems to be,) the enemy, and his kingdome must be on earth also. for so also was it, in the time before the jews had deposed god. for gods kingdome was in palestine; and the nations round about, were the kingdomes of the enemy; and consequently by satan, is meant any earthly enemy of the church. torments of hell the torments of hell, are expressed sometimes, by "weeping, and gnashing of teeth," as mat. . . sometimes, by "the worm of conscience;" as isa. . . and mark . , , ; sometimes, by fire, as in the place now quoted, "where the worm dyeth not, and the fire is not quenched," and many places beside: sometimes by "shame, and contempt," as dan. . . "and many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth, shall awake; some to everlasting life; and some to shame, and everlasting contempt." all which places design metaphorically a grief, and discontent of mind, from the sight of that eternall felicity in others, which they themselves through their own incredulity, and disobedience have lost. and because such felicity in others, is not sensible but by comparison with their own actuall miseries; it followeth that they are to suffer such bodily paines, and calamities, as are incident to those, who not onely live under evill and cruell governours, but have also for enemy, the eternall king of the saints, god almighty. and amongst these bodily paines, is to be reckoned also to every one of the wicked a second death. for though the scripture bee clear for an universall resurrection; yet wee do not read, that to any of the reprobate is promised an eternall life. for whereas st. paul ( cor. . , .) to the question concerning what bodies men shall rise with again, saith, that "the body is sown in corruption, and is raised in incorruption; it is sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weaknesse, it is raised in power;" glory and power cannot be applyed to the bodies of the wicked: nor can the name of second death, bee applyed to those that can never die but once: and although in metaphoricall speech, a calamitous life everlasting, may bee called an everlasting death yet it cannot well be understood of a second death. the fire prepared for the wicked, is an everlasting fire: that is to say, the estate wherein no man can be without torture, both of body and mind, after the resurrection, shall endure for ever; and in that sense the fire shall be unquenchable, and the torments everlasting: but it cannot thence be inferred, that hee who shall be cast into that fire, or be tormented with those torments, shall endure, and resist them so, as to be eternally burnt, and tortured, and yet never be destroyed, nor die. and though there be many places that affirm everlasting fire, and torments (into which men may be cast successively one after another for ever;) yet i find none that affirm there shall bee an eternall life therein of any individuall person; but on the contrary, an everlasting death, which is the second death: (apoc. . , .) "for after death, and the grave shall have delivered up the dead which were in them, and every man be judged according to his works; death and the grave shall also be cast into the lake of fire. this is the second death." whereby it is evident, that there is to bee a second death of every one that shall bee condemned at the day of judgement, after which hee shall die no more. the joyes of life eternall, and salvation the same thing, salvation from sin, and from misery, all one the joyes of life eternall, are in scripture comprehended all under the name of salvation, or being saved. to be saved, is to be secured, either respectively, against speciall evills, or absolutely against all evill, comprehending want, sicknesse, and death it self. and because man was created in a condition immortall, not subject to corruption, and consequently to nothing that tendeth to the dissolution of his nature; and fell from that happinesse by the sin of adam; it followeth, that to be saved from sin, is to be saved from all the evill, and calamities that sinne hath brought upon us. and therefore in the holy scripture, remission of sinne, and salvation from death and misery, is the same thing, as it appears by the words of our saviour, who having cured a man sick of the palsey, by saying, (mat. . .) "son be of good cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee;" and knowing that the scribes took for blasphemy, that a man should pretend to forgive sins, asked them (v. .) "whether it were easier to say, thy sinnes be forgiven thee, or, arise and walk;" signifying thereby, that it was all one, as to the saving of the sick, to say, "thy sins are forgiven," and "arise and walk;" and that he used that form of speech, onely to shew he had power to forgive sins. and it is besides evident in reason, that since death and misery, were the punishments of sin, the discharge of sinne, must also be a discharge of death and misery; that is to say, salvation absolute, such as the faithfull are to enjoy after the day of judgment, by the power, and favour of jesus christ, who for that cause is called our saviour. concerning particular salvations, such as are understood, sam. . . "as the lord liveth that saveth israel," that is, from their temporary enemies, and sam. . . "thou art my saviour, thou savest me from violence;" and kings . . "god gave the israelites a saviour, and so they were delivered from the hand of the assyrians," and the like, i need say nothing; there being neither difficulty, nor interest, to corrupt the interpretation of texts of that kind. the place of eternall salvation but concerning the generall salvation, because it must be in the kingdome of heaven, there is great difficulty concerning the place. on one side, by kingdome (which is an estate ordained by men for their perpetuall security against enemies, and want) it seemeth that this salvation should be on earth. for by salvation is set forth unto us, a glorious reign of our king, by conquest; not a safety by escape: and therefore there where we look for salvation, we must look also for triumph; and before triumph, for victory; and before victory, for battell; which cannot well be supposed, shall be in heaven. but how good soever this reason may be, i will not trust to it, without very evident places of scripture. the state of salvation is described at large, isaiah, . ver. , , , , . "look upon zion, the city of our solemnities, thine eyes shall see jerusalem a quiet habitation, a tabernacle that shall not be taken down; not one of the stakes thereof shall ever be removed, neither shall any of the cords thereof be broken. but there the glorious lord will be unto us a place of broad rivers, and streams; wherein shall goe no gally with oares; neither shall gallant ship passe thereby. for the lord is our judge, the lord is our lawgiver, the lord is our king, he will save us. thy tacklings are loosed; they could not well strengthen their mast; they could not spread the sail: then is the prey of a great spoil divided; the lame take the prey. and the inhabitant shall not say, i am sicke; the people that shall dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity." in which words wee have the place from whence salvation is to proceed, "jerusalem, a quiet habitation;" the eternity of it, "a tabernacle that shall not be taken down," &c. the saviour of it, "the lord, their judge, their lawgiver, their king, he will save us;" the salvation, "the lord shall be to them as a broad mote of swift waters," &c. the condition of their enemies, "their tacklings are loose, their masts weake, the lame shal take the spoil of them." the condition of the saved, "the inhabitants shall not say, i am sick:" and lastly, all this is comprehended in forgivenesse of sin, "the people that dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity." by which it is evident, that salvation shall be on earth, then, when god shall reign, (at the coming again of christ) in jerusalem; and from jerusalem shall proceed the salvation of the gentiles that shall be received into gods kingdome; as is also more expressely declared by the same prophet, chap. . , . "and they," (that is, the gentiles who had any jew in bondage) "shall bring all your brethren, for an offering to the lord, out of all nations, upon horses, and in charets, and in litters, and upon mules, and upon swift beasts, to my holy mountain, jerusalem, saith the lord, as the children of israel bring an offering in a clean vessell into the house of the lord. and i will also take of them for priests and for levites, saith the lord:" whereby it is manifest, that the chief seat of gods kingdome (which is the place, from whence the salvation of us that were gentiles, shall proceed) shall be jerusalem; and the same is also confirmed by our saviour, in his discourse with the woman of samaria, concerning the place of gods worship; to whom he saith, john . . that the samaritans worshipped they know not what, but the jews worship what they knew, "for salvation is of the jews (ex judais, that is, begins at the jews): as if he should say, you worship god, but know not by whom he wil save you, as we doe, that know it shall be one of the tribe of judah, a jew, not a samaritan. and therefore also the woman not impertinently answered him again, "we know the messias shall come." so that which our saviour saith, "salvation is from the jews," is the same that paul sayes (rom. . , .) "the gospel is the power of god to salvation to every one that beleeveth; to the jew first, and also to the greek. for therein is the righteousnesse of god revealed from faith to faith;" from the faith of the jew, to the faith of the gentile. in the like sense the prophet joel describing the day of judgment, (chap. . , .) that god would "shew wonders in heaven, and in earth, bloud, and fire, and pillars of smoak. the sun should be turned to darknesse, and the moon into bloud, before the great and terrible day of the lord come," he addeth verse . "and it shall come to passe, that whosoever shall call upon the name of the lord, shall be saved. for in mount zion, and in jerusalem shall be salvation." and obadiah verse saith the same, "upon mount zion shall be deliverance; and there shall be holinesse, and the house of jacob shall possesse their possessions," that is, the possessions of the heathen, which possessions he expresseth more particularly in the following verses, by the mount of esau, the land of the philistines, the fields of ephraim, of samaria, gilead, and the cities of the south, and concludes with these words, "the kingdom shall be the lords." all these places are for salvation, and the kingdome of god (after the day of judgement) upon earth. on the other side, i have not found any text that can probably be drawn, to prove any ascension of the saints into heaven; that is to say, into any coelum empyreum, or other aetheriall region; saving that it is called the kingdome of heaven; which name it may have, because god, that was king of the jews, governed them by his commands, sent to moses by angels from heaven, to reduce them to their obedience; and shall send him thence again, to rule both them, and all other faithfull men, from the day of judgment, everlastingly: or from that, that the throne of this our great king is in heaven; whereas the earth is but his footstoole. but that the subjects of god should have any place as high as his throne, or higher than his footstoole, it seemeth not sutable to the dignity of a king, nor can i find any evident text for it in holy scripture. from this that hath been said of the kingdom of god, and of salvation, it is not hard to interpret, what is meant by the world to come. there are three worlds mentioned in scripture, the old world, the present world, and the world to come. of the first, st. peter speaks, ( pet. . .) "if god spared not the old world, but saved noah the eighth person, a preacher of righteousnesse, bringing the flood upon the world of the ungodly," &c. so the first world, was from adam to the generall flood. of the present world, our saviour speaks (john . .) "my kingdome is not of this world." for he came onely to teach men the way of salvation, and to renew the kingdome of his father, by his doctrine. of the world to come, st. peter speaks, ( pet. . .) "neverthelesse we according to his promise look for new heavens, and a new earth." this is that world, wherein christ coming down from heaven, in the clouds, with great power, and glory, shall send his angels, and shall gather together his elect, from the four winds, and from the uttermost parts of the earth, and thence forth reign over them, (under his father) everlastingly. redemption salvation of a sinner, supposeth a precedent redemption; for he that is once guilty of sin, is obnoxious to the penalty of the same; and must pay (or some other for him) such ransome, as he that is offended, and has him in his power, shall require. and seeing the person offended, is almighty god, in whose power are all things; such ransome is to be paid before salvation can be acquired, as god hath been pleased to require. by this ransome, is not intended a satisfaction for sin, equivalent to the offence, which no sinner for himselfe, nor righteous man can ever be able to make for another; the dammage a man does to another, he may make amends for by restitution, or recompence, but sin cannot be taken away by recompence; for that were to make the liberty to sin, a thing vendible. but sins may bee pardoned to the repentant, either gratis, or upon such penalty, as god is pleased to accept. that which god usually accepted in the old testament, was some sacrifice, or oblation. to forgive sin is not an act of injustice, though the punishment have been threatned. even amongst men, though the promise of good, bind the promiser; yet threats, that is to say, promises, of evill, bind them not; much lesse shall they bind god, who is infinitely more mercifull then men. our saviour christ therefore to redeem us, did not in that sense satisfie for the sins of men, as that his death, of its own vertue, could make it unjust in god to punish sinners with eternall death; but did make that sacrifice, and oblation of himself, at his first coming, which god was pleased to require, for the salvation at his second coming, of such as in the mean time should repent, and beleeve in him. and though this act of our redemption, be not alwaies in scripture called a sacrifice, and oblation, but sometimes a price, yet by price we are not to understand any thing, by the value whereof, he could claim right to a pardon for us, from his offended father, but that price which god the father was pleased in mercy to demand. chapter xxxix. of the signification in scripture of the word church church the lords house the word church, (ecclesia) signifieth in the books of holy scripture divers things. sometimes (though not often) it is taken for gods house, that is to say, for a temple, wherein christians assemble to perform holy duties publiquely; as, cor. . ver. . "let your women keep silence in the churches:" but this is metaphorically put, for the congregation there assembled; and hath been since used for the edifice it self, to distinguish between the temples of christians, and idolaters. the temple of jerusalem was gods house, and the house of prayer; and so is any edifice dedicated by christians to the worship of christ, christs house: and therefore the greek fathers call it kuriake, the lords house; and thence, in our language it came to be called kyrke, and church. ecclesia properly what church (when not taken for a house) signifieth the same that ecclesia signified in the grecian common-wealths; that is to say, a congregation, or an assembly of citizens, called forth, to hear the magistrate speak unto them; and which in the common-wealth of rome was called concio, as he that spake was called ecclesiastes, and concionator. and when they were called forth by lawfull authority, (acts . .) it was ecclesia legitima, a lawfull church, ennomos ecclesia. but when they were excited by tumultuous, and seditious clamor, then it was a confused church, ecclesia sugkechumene. it is taken also sometimes for the men that have right to be of the congregation, though not actually assembled; that is to say, for the whole multitude of christian men, how far soever they be dispersed: as (act. . .) where it is said, that "saul made havock of the church:" and in this sense is christ said to be head of the church. and sometimes for a certain part of christians, as (col. . .) "salute the church that is in his house." sometimes also for the elect onely; as (ephes. . .) "a glorious church, without spot, or wrinkle, holy, and without blemish;" which is meant of the church triumphant, or, church to come. sometimes, for a congregation assembled, of professors of christianity, whether their profession be true, or counterfeit, as it is understood, mat. . . where it is said, "tell it to the church, and if hee neglect to hear the church, let him be to thee as a gentile, or publican." in what sense the church is one person church defined and in this last sense only it is that the church can be taken for one person; that is to say, that it can be said to have power to will, to pronounce, to command, to be obeyed, to make laws, or to doe any other action whatsoever; for without authority from a lawfull congregation, whatsoever act be done in a concourse of people, it is the particular act of every one of those that were present, and gave their aid to the performance of it; and not the act of them all in grosse, as of one body; much lesse that act of them that were absent, or that being present, were not willing it should be done. according to this sense, i define a church to be, "a company of men professing christian religion, united in the person of one soveraign; at whose command they ought to assemble, and without whose authority they ought not to assemble." and because in all common-wealths, that assembly, which is without warrant from the civil soveraign, is unlawful; that church also, which is assembled in any common-wealth, that hath forbidden them to assemble, is an unlawfull assembly. a christian common-wealth, and a church all one it followeth also, that there is on earth, no such universall church as all christians are bound to obey; because there is no power on earth, to which all other common-wealths are subject: there are christians, in the dominions of severall princes and states; but every one of them is subject to that common-wealth, whereof he is himself a member; and consequently, cannot be subject to the commands of any other person. and therefore a church, such as one as is capable to command, to judge, absolve, condemn, or do any other act, is the same thing with a civil common-wealth, consisting of christian men; and is called a civill state, for that the subjects of it are men; and a church, for that the subjects thereof are christians. temporall and spirituall government, are but two words brought into the world, to make men see double, and mistake their lawfull soveraign. it is true, that the bodies of the faithfull, after the resurrection shall be not onely spirituall, but eternall; but in this life they are grosse, and corruptible. there is therefore no other government in this life, neither of state, nor religion, but temporall; nor teaching of any doctrine, lawfull to any subject, which the governour both of the state, and of the religion, forbiddeth to be taught: and that governor must be one; or else there must needs follow faction, and civil war in the common-wealth, between the church and state; between spiritualists, and temporalists; between the sword of justice, and the shield of faith; and (which is more) in every christian mans own brest, between the christian, and the man. the doctors of the church, are called pastors; so also are civill soveraignes: but if pastors be not subordinate one to another, so as that there may bee one chief pastor, men will be taught contrary doctrines, whereof both may be, and one must be false. who that one chief pastor is, according to the law of nature, hath been already shewn; namely, that it is the civill soveraign; and to whom the scripture hath assigned that office, we shall see in the chapters following. chapter xl of the rights of the kingdome of god, in abraham, moses, high priests, and the kings of judah the soveraign rights of abraham the father of the faithfull, and first in the kingdome of god by covenant, was abraham. for with him was the covenant first made; wherein he obliged himself, and his seed after him, to acknowledge and obey the commands of god; not onely such, as he could take notice of, (as morall laws,) by the light of nature; but also such, as god should in speciall manner deliver to him by dreams and visions. for as to the morall law, they were already obliged, and needed not have been contracted withall, by promise of the land of canaan. nor was there any contract, that could adde to, or strengthen the obligation, by which both they, and all men else were bound naturally to obey god almighty: and therefore the covenant which abraham made with god, was to take for the commandement of god, that which in the name of god was commanded him, in a dream, or vision, and to deliver it to his family, and cause them to observe the same. abraham had the sole power of ordering the religion of his own people in this contract of god with abraham, wee may observe three points of important consequence in the government of gods people. first, that at the making of this covenant, god spake onely to abraham; and therefore contracted not with any of his family, or seed, otherwise then as their wills (which make the essence of all covenants) were before the contract involved in the will of abraham; who was therefore supposed to have had a lawfull power, to make them perform all that he covenanted for them. according whereunto (gen . , .) god saith, "all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him, for i know him that he will command his children and his houshold after him, and they shall keep the way of the lord." from whence may be concluded this first point, that they to whom god hath not spoken immediately, are to receive the positive commandements of god, from their soveraign; as the family and seed of abraham did from abraham their father, and lord, and civill soveraign. and consequently in every common-wealth, they who have no supernaturall revelation to the contrary, ought to obey the laws of their own soveraign, in the externall acts and profession of religion. as for the inward thought, and beleef of men, which humane governours can take no notice of, (for god onely knoweth the heart) they are not voluntary, nor the effect of the laws, but of the unrevealed will, and of the power of god; and consequently fall not under obligation. no pretence of private spirit against the religion of abraham from whence proceedeth another point, that it was not unlawfull for abraham, when any of his subjects should pretend private vision, or spirit, or other revelation from god, for the countenancing of any doctrine which abraham should forbid, or when they followed, or adhered to any such pretender, to punish them; and consequently that it is lawfull now for the soveraign to punish any man that shall oppose his private spirit against the laws: for hee hath the same place in the common-wealth, that abraham had in his own family. abraham sole judge, and interpreter of what god spake there ariseth also from the same, a third point; that as none but abraham in his family, so none but the soveraign in a christian common-wealth, can take notice what is, or what is not the word of god. for god spake onely to abraham; and it was he onely, that was able to know what god said, and to interpret the same to his family: and therefore also, they that have the place of abraham in a common-wealth, are the onely interpreters of what god hath spoken. the authority of moses whereon grounded the same covenant was renewed with isaac; and afterwards with jacob; but afterwards no more, till the israelites were freed from the egyptians, and arrived at the foot of mount sinai: and then it was renewed by moses (as i have said before, chap. .) in such manner, as they became from that time forward the peculiar kingdome of god; whose lieutenant was moses, for his owne time; and the succession to that office was setled upon aaron, and his heirs after him, to bee to god a sacerdotall kingdome for ever. by this constitution, a kingdome is acquired to god. but seeing moses had no authority to govern the israelites, as a successor to the right of abraham, because he could not claim it by inheritance; it appeareth not as yet, that the people were obliged to take him for gods lieutenant, longer than they beleeved that god spake unto him. and therefore his authority (notwithstanding the covenant they made with god) depended yet merely upon the opinion they had of his sanctity, and of the reality of his conferences with god, and the verity of his miracles; which opinion coming to change, they were no more obliged to take any thing for the law of god, which he propounded to them in gods name. we are therefore to consider, what other ground there was, of their obligation to obey him. for it could not be the commandement of god that could oblige them; because god spake not to them immediately, but by the mediation of moses himself; and our saviour saith of himself, (john . .) "if i bear witnesse of my self, my witnesse is not true," much lesse if moses bear witnesse of himselfe, (especially in a claim of kingly power over gods people) ought his testimony to be received. his authority therefore, as the authority of all other princes, must be grounded on the consent of the people, and their promise to obey him. and so it was: for "the people" (exod. . .) "when they saw the thunderings, and the lightnings, and the noyse of the trumpet, and the mountaine smoaking, removed, and stood a far off. and they said unto moses, speak thou with us, and we will hear, but let not god speak with us lest we die." here was their promise of obedience; and by this it was they obliged themselves to obey whatsoever he should deliver unto them for the commandement of god. moses was (under god) soveraign of the jews, all his own time, though aaron had the priesthood and notwithstanding the covenant constituted a sacerdotall kingdome, that is to say, a kingdome hereditary to aaron; yet that is to be understood of the succession, after moses should bee dead. for whosoever ordereth, and establisheth the policy, as first founder of a common-wealth (be it monarchy, aristocracy, or democracy) must needs have soveraign power over the people all the while he is doing of it. and that moses had that power all his own time, is evidently affirmed in the scripture. first, in the text last before cited, because the people promised obedience, not to aaron but to him. secondly, (exod. . , .) "and god said unto moses, come up unto the lord, thou, and aaron, nadab and abihu, and seventy of the elders of israel. and moses alone shall come neer the lord, but they shall not come nigh, neither shall the people goe up with him." by which it is plain, that moses who was alone called up to god, (and not aaron, nor the other priests, nor the seventy elders, nor the people who were forbidden to come up) was alone he, that represented to the israelites the person of god; that is to say, was their sole soveraign under god. and though afterwards it be said (verse .) "then went up moses, and aaron, nadab, and abihu, and seventy of the elders of israel, and they saw the god of israel, and there was under his feet, as it were a paved work of a saphire stone," &c. yet this was not till after moses had been with god before, and had brought to the people the words which god had said to him. he onely went for the businesse of the people; the others, as the nobles of his retinue, were admitted for honour to that speciall grace, which was not allowed to the people; which was, (as in the verse after appeareth) to see god and live. "god laid not his hand upon them, they saw god and did eat and drink" (that is, did live), but did not carry any commandement from him to the people. again, it is every where said, "the lord spake unto moses," as in all other occasions of government; so also in the ordering of the ceremonies of religion, contained in the , , , , , , and chapters of exodus, and throughout leviticus: to aaron seldome. the calfe that aaron made, moses threw into the fire. lastly, the question of the authority of aaron, by occasion of his and miriams mutiny against moses, was (numbers .) judged by god himself for moses. so also in the question between moses, and the people, when corah, dathan, and abiram, and two hundred and fifty princes of the assembly "gathered themselves together" (numbers . ) "against moses, and against aaron, and said unto them, 'ye take too much upon you, seeing all the congregation are holy, every one of them, and the lord is amongst them, why lift you up your selves above the congregation of the lord?'" god caused the earth to swallow corah, dathan, and abiram with their wives and children alive, and consumed those two hundred and fifty princes with fire. therefore neither aaron, nor the people, nor any aristocracy of the chief princes of the people, but moses alone had next under god the soveraignty over the israelites: and that not onely in causes of civill policy, but also of religion; for moses onely spake with god, and therefore onely could tell the people, what it was that god required at their hands. no man upon pain of death might be so presumptuous as to approach the mountain where god talked with moses. "thou shalt set bounds" (saith the lord, exod . .) "to the people round about, and say, take heed to your selves that you goe not up into the mount, or touch the border of it; whosoever toucheth the mount shall surely be put to death." and again (verse .) "get down, charge the people, lest they break through unto the lord to gaze." out of which we may conclude, that whosoever in a christian common-wealth holdeth the place of moses, is the sole messenger of god, and interpreter of his commandements. and according hereunto, no man ought in the interpretation of the scripture to proceed further then the bounds which are set by their severall soveraigns. for the scriptures since god now speaketh in them, are the mount sinai; the bounds whereof are the laws of them that represent gods person on earth. to look upon them and therein to behold the wondrous works of god, and learn to fear him is allowed; but to interpret them; that is, to pry into what god saith to him whom he appointeth to govern under him, and make themselves judges whether he govern as god commandeth him, or not, is to transgresse the bounds god hath set us, and to gaze upon god irreverently. all spirits were subordinate to the spirit of moses there was no prophet in the time of moses, nor pretender to the spirit of god, but such as moses had approved, and authorized. for there were in his time but seventy men, that are said to prophecy by the spirit of god, and these were of all moses his election; concerning whom god saith to moses (numb. . .) "gather to mee seventy of the elders of israel, whom thou knowest to be the elders of the people." to these god imparted his spirit; but it was not a different spirit from that of moses; for it is said (verse .) "god came down in a cloud, and took of the spirit that was upon moses, and gave it to the seventy elders." but as i have shewn before (chap. .) by spirit, is understood the mind; so that the sense of the place is no other than this, that god endued them with a mind conformable, and subordinate to that of moses, that they might prophecy, that is to say, speak to the people in gods name, in such manner, as to set forward (as ministers of moses, and by his authority) such doctrine as was agreeable to moses his doctrine. for they were but ministers; and when two of them prophecyed in the camp, it was thought a new and unlawfull thing; and as it is in the . and . verses of the same chapter, they were accused of it, and joshua advised moses to forbid them, as not knowing that it was by moses his spirit that they prophecyed. by which it is manifest, that no subject ought to pretend to prophecy, or to the spirit, in opposition to the doctrine established by him, whom god hath set in the place of moses. after moses the soveraignty was in the high priest aaron being dead, and after him also moses, the kingdome, as being a sacerdotall kingdome, descended by vertue of the covenant, to aarons son, eleazar the high priest: and god declared him (next under himself) for soveraign, at the same time that he appointed joshua for the generall of their army. for thus god saith expressely (numb. . .) concerning joshua; "he shall stand before eleazar the priest, who shall ask counsell for him, before the lord, at his word shall they goe out, and at his word they shall come in, both he, and all the children of israel with him:" therefore the supreme power of making war and peace, was in the priest. the supreme power of judicature belonged also to the high priest: for the book of the law was in their keeping; and the priests and levites onely were the subordinate judges in causes civill, as appears in deut. . , , . and for the manner of gods worship, there was never doubt made, but that the high priest till the time of saul, had the supreme authority. therefore the civill and ecclesiasticall power were both joined together in one and the same person, the high priest; and ought to bee so, in whosoever governeth by divine right; that is, by authority immediate from god. of the soveraign power between the time of joshua and of saul after the death of joshua, till the time of saul, the time between is noted frequently in the book of judges, "that there was in those dayes no king in israel;" and sometimes with this addition, that "every man did that which was right in his own eyes." by which is to bee understood, that where it is said, "there was no king," is meant, "there was no soveraign power" in israel. and so it was, if we consider the act, and exercise of such power. for after the death of joshua, & eleazar, "there arose another generation" (judges . .) "that knew not the lord, nor the works which he had done for israel, but did evill in the sight of the lord, and served baalim." and the jews had that quality which st. paul noteth, "to look for a sign," not onely before they would submit themselves to the government of moses, but also after they had obliged themselves by their submission. whereas signs, and miracles had for end to procure faith, not to keep men from violating it, when they have once given it; for to that men are obliged by the law of nature. but if we consider not the exercise, but the right of governing, the soveraign power was still in the high priest. therefore whatsoever obedience was yeelded to any of the judges, (who were men chosen by god extraordinarily, to save his rebellious subjects out of the hands of the enemy,) it cannot bee drawn into argument against the right the high priest had to the soveraign power, in all matters, both of policy and religion. and neither the judges, nor samuel himselfe had an ordinary, but extraordinary calling to the government; and were obeyed by the israelites, not out of duty, but out of reverence to their favour with god, appearing in their wisdome, courage, or felicity. hitherto therefore the right of regulating both the policy, and the religion, were inseparable. of the rights of the kings of israel to the judges, succeeded kings; and whereas before, all authority, both in religion, and policy, was in the high priest; so now it was all in the king. for the soveraignty over the people, which was before, not onely by vertue of the divine power, but also by a particular pact of the israelites in god, and next under him, in the high priest, as his viceregent on earth, was cast off by the people, with the consent of god himselfe. for when they said to samuel ( sam. . .) "make us a king to judge us, like all the nations," they signified that they would no more bee governed by the commands that should bee laid upon them by the priest, in the name of god; but by one that should command them in the same manner that all other nations were commanded; and consequently in deposing the high priest of royall authority, they deposed that peculiar government of god. and yet god consented to it, saying to samuel (verse .) "hearken unto the voice of the people, in all that they shall say unto thee; for they have not rejected thee, but they have rejected mee, that i should not reign over them." having therefore rejected god, in whose right the priests governed, there was no authority left to the priests, but such as the king was pleased to allow them; which was more, or lesse, according as the kings were good, or evill. and for the government of civill affaires, it is manifest, it was all in the hands of the king. for in the same chapter, verse . they say they will be like all the nations; that their king shall be their judge, and goe before them, and fight their battells; that is, he shall have the whole authority, both in peace and war. in which is contained also the ordering of religion; for there was no other word of god in that time, by which to regulate religion, but the law of moses, which was their civill law. besides, we read ( kings . .) that solomon "thrust out abiathar from being priest before the lord:" he had therefore authority over the high priest, as over any other subject; which is a great mark of supremacy in religion. and we read also ( kings .) that hee dedicated the temple; that he blessed the people; and that he himselfe in person made that excellent prayer, used in the consecrations of all churches, and houses of prayer; which is another great mark of supremacy in religion. again, we read ( kings .) that when there was question concerning the book of the law found in the temple, the same was not decided by the high priest, but josiah sent both him, and others to enquire concerning it, of hulda, the prophetesse; which is another mark of the supremacy in religion. lastly, wee read ( chro. . .) that david made hashabiah and his brethren, hebronites, officers of israel among them westward, "in all businesse of the lord, and in the service of the king." likewise (verse .) that hee made other hebronites, "rulers over the reubenites, the gadites, and the halfe tribe of manasseh" (these were the rest of israel that dwelt beyond jordan) "for every matter pertaining to god, and affairs of the king." is not this full power, both temporall and spirituall, as they call it, that would divide it? to conclude; from the first institution of gods kingdome, to the captivity, the supremacy of religion, was in the same hand with that of the civill soveraignty; and the priests office after the election of saul, was not magisteriall, but ministeriall. the practice of supremacy in religion, was not in the time of the kings, according to the right thereof notwithstanding the government both in policy and religion, were joined, first in the high priests, and afterwards in the kings, so far forth as concerned the right; yet it appeareth by the same holy history, that the people understood it not; but there being amongst them a great part, and probably the greatest part, that no longer than they saw great miracles, or (which is equivalent to a miracle) great abilities, or great felicity in the enterprises of their governours, gave sufficient credit, either to the fame of moses, or to the colloquies between god and the priests; they took occasion as oft as their governours displeased them, by blaming sometimes the policy, sometimes the religion, to change the government, or revolt from their obedience at their pleasure: and from thence proceeded from time to time the civill troubles, divisions, and calamities of the nation. as for example, after the death of eleazar and joshua, the next generation which had not seen the wonders of god, but were left to their own weak reason, not knowing themselves obliged by the covenant of a sacerdotall kingdome, regarded no more the commandement of the priest, nor any law of moses, but did every man that which was right in his own eyes; and obeyed in civill affairs, such men, as from time to time they thought able to deliver them from the neighbour nations that oppressed them; and consulted not with god (as they ought to doe,) but with such men, or women, as they guessed to bee prophets by their praedictions of things to come; and thought they had an idol in their chappel, yet if they had a levite for their chaplain, they made account they worshipped the god of israel. and afterwards when they demanded a king, after the manner of the nations; yet it was not with a design to depart from the worship of god their king; but despairing of the justice of the sons of samuel, they would have a king to judg them in civill actions; but not that they would allow their king to change the religion which they thought was recommended to them by moses. so that they alwaies kept in store a pretext, either of justice, or religion, to discharge themselves of their obedience, whensoever they had hope to prevaile. samuel was displeased with the people, for that they desired a king, (for god was their king already, and samuel had but an authority under him); yet did samuel, when saul observed not his counsell, in destroying agag as god had commanded, anoint another king, namely david, to take the succession from his heirs. rehoboam was no idolater; but when the people thought him an oppressor; that civil pretence carried from him ten tribes to jeroboam an idolater. and generally through the whole history of the kings, as well of judah, as of israel, there were prophets that alwaies controlled the kings, for transgressing the religion; and sometimes also for errours of state; ( chro. . .) as jehosaphat was reproved by the prophet jehu, for aiding the king of israel against the syrians; and hezekiah, by isaiah, for shewing his treasures to the ambassadors of babylon. by all which it appeareth, that though the power both of state and religion were in the kings; yet none of them were uncontrolled in the use of it, but such as were gracious for their own naturall abilities, or felicities. so that from the practise of those times, there can no argument be drawn, that the right of supremacy in religion was not in the kings, unlesse we place it in the prophets; and conclude, that because hezekiah praying to the lord before the cherubins, was not answered from thence, nor then, but afterwards by the prophet isaiah, therefore isaiah was supreme head of the church; or because josiah consulted hulda the prophetesse, concerning the book of the law, that therefore neither he, nor the high priest, but hulda the prophetesse had the supreme authority in matter of religion; which i thinke is not the opinion of any doctor. after the captivity the jews had no setled common-wealth during the captivity, the jews had no common-wealth at all and after their return, though they renewed their covenant with god, yet there was no promise made of obedience, neither to esdras, nor to any other; and presently after they became subjects to the greeks (from whose customes, and daemonology, and from the doctrine of the cabalists, their religion became much corrupted): in such sort as nothing can be gathered from their confusion, both in state and religion, concerning the supremacy in either. and therefore so far forth as concerneth the old testament, we may conclude, that whosoever had the soveraignty of the common-wealth amongst the jews, the same had also the supreme authority in matter of gods externall worship; and represented gods person; that is the person of god the father; though he were not called by the name of father, till such time as he sent into the world his son jesus christ, to redeem mankind from their sins, and bring them into his everlasting kingdome, to be saved for evermore. of which we are to speak in the chapter following. chapter xli. of the office of our blessed saviour three parts of the office of christ we find in holy scripture three parts of the office of the messiah: the first of a redeemer, or saviour: the second of a pastor, counsellour, or teacher, that is, of a prophet sent from god, to convert such as god hath elected to salvation; the third of a king, and eternall king, but under his father, as moses and the high priests were in their severall times. and to these three parts are corespondent three times. for our redemption he wrought at his first coming, by the sacrifice, wherein he offered up himself for our sinnes upon the crosse: our conversion he wrought partly then in his own person; and partly worketh now by his ministers; and will continue to work till his coming again. and after his coming again, shall begin that his glorious reign over his elect, which is to last eternally. his office as a redeemer to the office of a redeemer, that is, of one that payeth the ransome of sin, (which ransome is death,) it appertaineth, that he was sacrificed, and thereby bare upon his own head, and carryed away from us our iniquities, in such sort as god had required. not that the death of one man, though without sinne, can satisfie for the offences of all men, in the rigour of justice, but in the mercy of god, that ordained such sacrifices for sin, as he was pleased in his mercy to accept. in the old law (as we may read, leviticus the .) the lord required, that there should every year once, bee made an atonement for the sins of all israel, both priests, and others; for the doing whereof, aaron alone was to sacrifice for himself and the priests a young bullock; and for the rest of the people, he was to receive from them two young goates, of which he was to sacrifice one; but as for the other, which was the scape goat, he was to lay his hands on the head thereof, and by a confession of the iniquities of the people, to lay them all on that head, and then by some opportune man, to cause the goat to be led into the wildernesse, and there to escape, and carry away with him the iniquities of the people. as the sacrifice of the one goat was a sufficient (because an acceptable) price for the ransome of all israel; so the death of the messiah, is a sufficient price, for the sins of all mankind, because there was no more required. our saviour christs sufferings seem to be here figured, as cleerly, as in the oblation of isaac, or in any other type of him in the old testament: he was both the sacrificed goat, and the scape goat; "hee was oppressed, and he was afflicted (isa. . .); he opened not his mouth; he brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep is dumbe before the shearer, so opened he not his mouth:" here he is the sacrificed goat. "he hath born our griefs, (ver. .) and carried our sorrows;" and again, (ver. .) "the lord hath laid upon him the iniquities of us all:" and so he is the scape goat. "he was cut off from the land of the living (ver. .) for the transgression of my people:" there again he is the sacrificed goat. and again (ver. .) "he shall bear their sins:" hee is the scape goat. thus is the lamb of god equivalent to both those goates; sacrificed, in that he dyed; and escaping, in his resurrection; being raised opportunely by his father, and removed from the habitation of men in his ascension. christs kingdome not of this world for as much therefore, as he that redeemeth, hath no title to the thing redeemed, before the redemption, and ransome paid; and this ransome was the death of the redeemer; it is manifest, that our saviour (as man) was not king of those that he redeemed, before hee suffered death; that is, during that time hee conversed bodily on the earth. i say, he was not then king in present, by vertue of the pact, which the faithfull make with him in baptisme; neverthelesse, by the renewing of their pact with god in baptisme, they were obliged to obey him for king, (under his father) whensoever he should be pleased to take the kingdome upon him. according whereunto, our saviour himself expressely saith, (john . .) "my kingdome is not of this world." now seeing the scripture maketh mention but of two worlds; this that is now, and shall remain to the day of judgment, (which is therefore also called, the last day;) and that which shall bee a new heaven, and a new earth; the kingdome of christ is not to begin till the general resurrection. and that is it which our saviour saith, (mat. . .) "the son of man shall come in the glory of his father, with his angels; and then he shall reward every man according to his works." to reward every man according to his works, is to execute the office of a king; and this is not to be till he come in the glory of his father, with his angells. when our saviour saith, (mat. . .) "the scribes and pharisees sit in moses seat; all therefore whatsoever they bid you doe, that observe and doe;" hee declareth plainly, that hee ascribeth kingly power, for that time, not to himselfe, but to them. and so hee hath also, where he saith, (luke . .) "who made mee a judge, or divider over you?" and (john . .) "i came not to judge the world, but to save the world." and yet our saviour came into this world that hee might bee a king, and a judge in the world to come: for hee was the messiah, that is, the christ, that is, the anointed priest, and the soveraign prophet of god; that is to say, he was to have all the power that was in moses the prophet, in the high priests that succeeded moses, and in the kings that succeeded the priests. and st. john saies expressely (chap. . ver. .) "the father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment to the son." and this is not repugnant to that other place, "i came not to judge the world:" for this is spoken of the world present, the other of the world to come; as also where it is said, that at the second coming of christ, (mat. . .) "yee that have followed me in the regeneration, when the son of man shall sit in the throne of his glory, yee shall also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of israel." the end of christs comming was to renew the covenant of the kingdome of god, and to perswade the elect to imbrace it, which was the second part of his office if then christ while hee was on earth, had no kingdome in this world, to what end was his first coming? it was to restore unto god, by a new covenant, the kingdome, which being his by the old covenant, had been cut off by the rebellion of the israelites in the election of saul. which to doe, he was to preach unto them, that he was the messiah, that is, the king promised to them by the prophets; and to offer himselfe in sacrifice for the sinnes of them that should by faith submit themselves thereto; and in case the nation generally should refuse him, to call to his obedience such as should beleeve in him amongst the gentiles. so that there are two parts of our saviours office during his aboad upon the earth; one to proclaim himself the christ; and another by teaching, and by working of miracles, to perswade, and prepare men to live so, as to be worthy of the immortality beleevers were to enjoy, at such time as he should come in majesty, to take possession of his fathers kingdome. and therefore it is, that the time of his preaching, is often by himself called the regeneration; which is not properly a kingdome, and thereby a warrant to deny obedience to the magistrates that then were, (for hee commanded to obey those that sate then in moses chaire, and to pay tribute to caesar;) but onely an earnest of the kingdome of god that was to come, to those to whom god had given the grace to be his disciples, and to beleeve in him; for which cause the godly are said to bee already in the kingdome of grace, as naturalized in that heavenly kingdome. the preaching of christ not contrary to the then law of the jews, nor of caesar hitherto therefore there is nothing done, or taught by christ, that tendeth to the diminution of the civill right of the jewes, or of caesar. for as touching the common-wealth which then was amongst the jews, both they that bare rule amongst them, that they that were governed, did all expect the messiah, and kingdome of god; which they could not have done if their laws had forbidden him (when he came) to manifest, and declare himself. seeing therefore he did nothing, but by preaching, and miracles go about to prove himselfe to be that messiah, hee did therein nothing against their laws. the kingdome hee claimed was to bee in another world; he taught all men to obey in the mean time them that sate in moses seat: he allowed them to give caesar his tribute, and refused to take upon himselfe to be a judg. how then could his words, or actions bee seditious, or tend to the overthrow of their then civill government? but god having determined his sacrifice, for the reduction of his elect to their former covenanted obedience, for the means, whereby he would bring the same to effect, made use of their malice, and ingratitude. nor was it contrary to the laws of caesar. for though pilate himself (to gratifie the jews) delivered him to be crucified; yet before he did so, he pronounced openly, that he found no fault in him: and put for title of his condemnation, not as the jews required, "that he pretended to be king;" but simply, "that hee was king of the jews;" and notwithstanding their clamour, refused to alter it; saying, "what i have written, i have written." the third part of his office was to be king (under his father) of the elect as for the third part of his office, which was to be king, i have already shewn that his kingdome was not to begin till the resurrection. but then he shall be king, not onely as god, in which sense he is king already, and ever shall be, of all the earth, in vertue of his omnipotence; but also peculiarly of his own elect, by vertue of the pact they make with him in their baptisme. and therefore it is, that our saviour saith (mat. . .) that his apostles should sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of israel, "when the son of man shall sit in the throne of his glory;" whereby he signified that he should reign then in his humane nature; and (mat. . .) "the son of man shall come in the glory of his father, with his angels, and then he shall reward every man according to his works." the same we may read, marke .. . and . . and more expressely for the time, luke . , . "i appoint unto you a kingdome, as my father hath appointed to mee, that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdome, and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of israel." by which it is manifest that the kingdome of christ appointed to him by his father, is not to be before the son of man shall come in glory, and make his apostles judges of the twelve tribes of israel. but a man may here ask, seeing there is no marriage in the kingdome of heaven, whether men shall then eat, and drink; what eating therefore is meant in this place? this is expounded by our saviour (john . .) where he saith, "labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the son of man shall give you." so that by eating at christs table, is meant the eating of the tree of life; that is to say, the enjoying of immortality, in the kingdome of the son of man. by which places, and many more, it is evident, that our saviours kingdome is to bee exercised by him in his humane nature. christs authority in the kingdome of god subordinate to his father again, he is to be king then, no otherwise than as subordinate, or viceregent of god the father, as moses was in the wildernesse; and as the high priests were before the reign of saul; and as the kings were after it. for it is one of the prophecies concerning christ, that he should be like (in office) to moses; "i will raise them up a prophet (saith the lord, deut. . .) from amongst their brethren like unto thee, and will put my words into his mouth," and this similitude with moses, is also apparent in the actions of our saviour himself, whilest he was conversant on earth. for as moses chose twelve princes of the tribes, to govern under him; so did our saviour choose twelve apostles, who shall sit on twelve thrones, and judge the twelve tribes of israel; and as moses authorized seventy elders, to receive the spirit of god, and to prophecy to the people, that is, (as i have said before,) to speak unto them in the name of god; so our saviour also ordained seventy disciples, to preach his kingdome, and salvation to all nations. and as when a complaint was made to moses, against those of the seventy that prophecyed in the camp of israel, he justified them in it, as being subservient therein to his government; so also our saviour, when st. john complained to him of a certain man that cast out devills in his name, justified him therein, saying, (luke . .) "forbid him not, for hee that is not against us, is on our part." again, our saviour resembled moses in the institution of sacraments, both of admission into the kingdome of god, and of commemoration of his deliverance of his elect from their miserable condition. as the children of israel had for sacrament of their reception into the kingdome of god, before the time of moses, the rite of circumcision, which rite having been omitted in the wildernesse, was again restored as soon as they came into the land of promise; so also the jews, before the coming of our saviour, had a rite of baptizing, that is, of washing with water all those that being gentiles, embraced the god of israel. this rite st. john the baptist used in the reception of all them that gave their names to the christ, whom hee preached to bee already come into the world; and our saviour instituted the same for a sacrament to be taken by all that beleeved in him. from what cause the rite of baptisme first proceeded, is not expressed formally in the scripture; but it may be probably thought to be an imitation of the law of moses, concerning leprousie; wherein the leprous man was commanded to be kept out of the campe of israel for a certain time; after which time being judged by the priest to be clean, hee was admitted into the campe after a solemne washing. and this may therefore bee a type of the washing in baptisme; wherein such men as are cleansed of the leprousie of sin by faith, are received into the church with the solemnity of baptisme. there is another conjecture drawn from the ceremonies of the gentiles, in a certain case that rarely happens; and that is, when a man that was thought dead, chanced to recover, other men made scruple to converse with him, as they would doe to converse with a ghost, unlesse hee were received again into the number of men, by washing, as children new born were washed from the uncleannesse of their nativity, which was a kind of new birth. this ceremony of the greeks, in the time that judaea was under the dominion of alexander, and the greeks his successors, may probably enough have crept into the religion of the jews. but seeing it is not likely our saviour would countenance a heathen rite, it is most likely it proceeded from the legall ceremony of washing after leprosie. and for the other sacraments, of eating the paschall lambe, it is manifestly imitated in the sacrament of the lords supper; in which the breaking of the bread, and the pouring out of the wine, do keep in memory our deliverance from the misery of sin, by christs passion, as the eating of the paschall lambe, kept in memory the deliverance of the jewes out of the bondage of egypt. seeing therefore the authority of moses was but subordinate, and hee but a lieutenant to god; it followeth, that christ, whose authority, as man, was to bee like that of moses, was no more but subordinate to the authority of his father. the same is more expressely signified, by that that hee teacheth us to pray, "our father, let thy kingdome come;" and, "for thine is the kingdome, the power and the glory;" and by that it is said, that "hee shall come in the glory of his father;" and by that which st. paul saith, ( cor. . .) "then commeth the end, when hee shall have delivered up the kingdome to god, even the father;" and by many other most expresse places. one and the same god is the person represented by moses, and by christ our saviour therefore, both in teaching, and reigning, representeth (as moses did) the person of god; which god from that time forward, but not before, is called the father; and being still one and the same substance, is one person as represented by moses, and another person as represented by his sonne the christ. for person being a relative to a representer, it is consequent to plurality of representers, that there bee a plurality of persons, though of one and the same substance. chapter xlii. of power ecclesiasticall for the understanding of power ecclesiasticall, what, and in whom it is, we are to distinguish the time from the ascension of our saviour, into two parts; one before the conversion of kings, and men endued with soveraign civill power; the other after their conversion. for it was long after the ascension, before any king, or civill soveraign embraced, and publiquely allowed the teaching of christian religion. of the holy spirit that fel on the apostles and for the time between, it is manifest, that the power ecclesiasticall, was in the apostles; and after them in such as were by them ordained to preach the gospell, and to convert men to christianity, and to direct them that were converted in the way of salvation; and after these the power was delivered again to others by these ordained, and this was done by imposition of hands upon such as were ordained; by which was signified the giving of the holy spirit, or spirit of god, to those whom they ordained ministers of god, to advance his kingdome. so that imposition of hands, was nothing else but the seal of their commission to preach christ, and teach his doctrine; and the giving of the holy ghost by that ceremony of imposition of hands, was an imitation of that which moses did. for moses used the same ceremony to his minister joshua, as wee read deuteronomy . ver. . "and joshua the son of nun was full of the spirit of wisdome; for moses had laid his hands upon him." our saviour therefore between his resurrection, and ascension, gave his spirit to the apostles; first, by "breathing on them, and saying," (john . .) "receive yee the holy spirit;" and after his ascension (acts . , .) by sending down upon them, a "mighty wind, and cloven tongues of fire;" and not by imposition of hands; as neither did god lay his hands on moses; and his apostles afterward, transmitted the same spirit by imposition of hands, as moses did to joshua. so that it is manifest hereby, in whom the power ecclesiasticall continually remained, in those first times, where there was not any christian common-wealth; namely, in them that received the same from the apostles, by successive laying on of hands. of the trinity here wee have the person of god born now the third time. for as moses, and the high priests, were gods representative in the old testament; and our saviour himselfe as man, during his abode on earth: so the holy ghost, that is to say, the apostles, and their successors, in the office of preaching, and teaching, that had received the holy spirit, have represented him ever since. but a person, (as i have shewn before, [chapt. .].) is he that is represented, as often as hee is represented; and therefore god, who has been represented (that is, personated) thrice, may properly enough be said to be three persons; though neither the word person, nor trinity be ascribed to him in the bible. st. john indeed ( epist. . .) saith, "there be three that bear witnesse in heaven, the father, the word, and the holy spirit; and these three are one:" but this disagreeth not, but accordeth fitly with three persons in the proper signification of persons; which is, that which is represented by another. for so god the father, as represented by moses, is one person; and as represented by his sonne, another person, and as represented by the apostles, and by the doctors that taught by authority from them derived, is a third person; and yet every person here, is the person of one and the same god. but a man may here ask, what it was whereof these three bare witnesse. st. john therefore tells us (verse .) that they bear witnesse, that "god hath given us eternall life in his son." again, if it should be asked, wherein that testimony appeareth, the answer is easie; for he hath testified the same by the miracles he wrought, first by moses; secondly, by his son himself; and lastly by his apostles, that had received the holy spirit; all which in their times represented the person of god; and either prophecyed, or preached jesus christ. and as for the apostles, it was the character of the apostleship, in the twelve first and great apostles, to bear witnesse of his resurrection; as appeareth expressely (acts . ver. , .) where st peter, when a new apostle was to be chosen in the place of judas iscariot, useth these words, "of these men which have companied with us all the time that the lord jesus went in and out amongst us, beginning at the baptisme of john, unto that same day that hee was taken up from us, must one bee ordained to be a witnesse with us of his resurrection:" which words interpret the bearing of witnesse, mentioned by st. john. there is in the same place mentioned another trinity of witnesses in earth. for (ver. .) he saith, "there are three that bear witnesse in earth, the spirit, and the water, and the bloud; and these three agree in one:" that is to say, the graces of gods spirit, and the two sacraments, baptisme, and the lords supper, which all agree in one testimony, to assure the consciences of beleevers, of eternall life; of which testimony he saith (verse .) "he that beleeveth on the son of man hath the witnesse in himselfe." in this trinity on earth the unity is not of the thing; for the spirit, the water, and the bloud, are not the same substance, though they give the same testimony: but in the trinity of heaven, the persons are the persons of one and the same god, though represented in three different times and occasions. to conclude, the doctrine of the trinity, as far as can be gathered directly from the scripture, is in substance this; that god who is alwaies one and the same, was the person represented by moses; the person represented by his son incarnate; and the person represented by the apostles. as represented by the apostles, the holy spirit by which they spake, is god; as represented by his son (that was god and man), the son is that god; as represented by moses, and the high priests, the father, that is to say, the father of our lord jesus christ, is that god: from whence we may gather the reason why those names father, son, and holy spirit in the signification of the godhead, are never used in the old testament: for they are persons, that is, they have their names from representing; which could not be, till divers men had represented gods person in ruling, or in directing under him. thus wee see how the power ecclesiasticall was left by our saviour to the apostles; and how they were (to the end they might the better exercise that power,) endued with the holy spirit, which is therefore called sometime in the new testament paracletus which signifieth an assister, or one called to for helpe, though it bee commonly translated a comforter. let us now consider the power it selfe, what it was, and over whom. the power ecclesiasticall is but the power to teach cardinall bellarmine in his third generall controversie, hath handled a great many questions concerning the ecclesiasticall power of the pope of rome; and begins with this, whether it ought to be monarchicall, aristocraticall, or democraticall. all which sorts of power, are soveraign, and coercive. if now it should appear, that there is no coercive power left them by our saviour; but onely a power to proclaim the kingdom of christ, and to perswade men to submit themselves thereunto; and by precepts and good counsell, to teach them that have submitted, what they are to do, that they may be received into the kingdom of god when it comes; and that the apostles, and other ministers of the gospel, are our schoolemasters, and not our commanders, and their precepts not laws, but wholesome counsells then were all that dispute in vain. an argument thereof, the power of christ himself i have shewn already (in the last chapter,) that the kingdome of christ is not of this world: therefore neither can his ministers (unlesse they be kings,) require obedience in his name. for if the supreme king, have not his regall power in this world; by what authority can obedience be required to his officers? as my father sent me, (so saith our saviour) i send you. but our saviour was sent to perswade the jews to return to, and to invite the gentiles, to receive the kingdome of his father, and not to reign in majesty, no not, as his fathers lieutenant, till the day of judgment. from the name of regeneration the time between the ascension, and the generall resurrection, is called, not a reigning, but a regeneration; that is, a preparation of men for the second and glorious coming of christ, at the day of judgment; as appeareth by the words of our saviour, mat. . . "you that have followed me in the regeneration, when the son of man shall sit in the throne of his glory, you shall also sit upon twelve thrones;" and of st. paul (ephes. . .) "having your feet shod with the preparation of the gospell of peace." from the comparison of it, with fishing, leaven, seed and is compared by our saviour, to fishing; that is, to winning men to obedience, not by coercion, and punishing; but by perswasion: and therefore he said not to his apostles, hee would make them so many nimrods, hunters of men; but fishers of men. it is compared also to leaven; to sowing of seed, and to the multiplication of a grain of mustard-seed; by all which compulsion is excluded; and consequently there can in that time be no actual reigning. the work of christs ministers, is evangelization; that is, a proclamation of christ, and a preparation for his second comming; as the evangelization of john baptist, was a preparation to his first coming. from the nature of faith: again, the office of christs ministers in this world, is to make men beleeve, and have faith in christ: but faith hath no relation to, nor dependence at all upon compulsion, or commandement; but onely upon certainty, or probability of arguments drawn from reason, or from something men beleeve already. therefore the ministers of christ in this world, have no power by that title, to punish any man for not beleeving, or for contradicting what they say; they have i say no power by that title of christs ministers, to punish such: but if they have soveraign civill power, by politick institution, then they may indeed lawfully punish any contradiction to their laws whatsoever: and st. paul, of himselfe and other then preachers of the gospell saith in expresse words, ( cor. . .) "wee have no dominion over your faith, but are helpers of your joy." from the authority christ hath left to civill princes another argument, that the ministers of christ in this present world have no right of commanding, may be drawn from the lawfull authority which christ hath left to all princes, as well christians, as infidels. st. paul saith (col. . .) "children obey your parents in all things; for this is well pleasing to the lord." and ver. . "servants obey in all things your masters according to the flesh, not with eye-service, as men-pleasers, but in singlenesse of heart, as fearing the lord;" this is spoken to them whose masters were infidells; and yet they are bidden to obey them in all things. and again, concerning obedience to princes. (rom. . the first . verses) exhorting to "be subject to the higher powers," he saith, "that all power is ordained of god;" and "that we ought to be subject to them, not onely for" fear of incurring their "wrath, but also for conscience sake." and st. peter, ( epist. chap. e ver. , , .) "submit your selves to every ordinance of man, for the lords sake, whether it bee to the king, as supreme, or unto governours, as to them that be sent by him for the punishment of evill doers, and for the praise of them that doe well; for so is the will of god." and again st. paul (tit. . .) "put men in mind to be subject to principalities, and powers, and to obey magistrates." these princes, and powers, whereof st. peter, and st. paul here speak, were all infidels; much more therefore we are to obey those christians, whom god hath ordained to have soveraign power over us. how then can wee be obliged to doe any thing contrary to the command of the king, or other soveraign representant of the common-wealth, whereof we are members, and by whom we look to be protected? it is therefore manifest, that christ hath not left to his ministers in this world, unlesse they be also endued with civill authority, any authority to command other men. what christians may do to avoid persecution but what (may some object) if a king, or a senate, or other soveraign person forbid us to beleeve in christ? to this i answer, that such forbidding is of no effect, because beleef, and unbeleef never follow mens commands. faith is a gift of god, which man can neither give, nor take away by promise of rewards, or menaces of torture. and if it be further asked, what if wee bee commanded by our lawfull prince, to say with our tongue, wee beleeve not; must we obey such command? profession with the tongue is but an externall thing, and no more then any other gesture whereby we signifie our obedience; and wherein a christian, holding firmely in his heart the faith of christ, hath the same liberty which the prophet elisha allowed to naaman the syrian. naaman was converted in his heart to the god of israel; for hee saith ( kings . .) "thy servant will henceforth offer neither burnt offering, nor sacrifice unto other gods but unto the lord. in this thing the lord pardon thy servant, that when my master goeth into the house of rimmon to worship there, and he leaneth on my hand, and i bow my selfe in the house of rimmon; when i bow my selfe in the house of rimmon, the lord pardon thy servant in this thing." this the prophet approved, and bid him "goe in peace." here naaman beleeved in his heart; but by bowing before the idol rimmon, he denyed the true god in effect, as much as if he had done it with his lips. but then what shall we answer to our saviours saying, "whosoever denyeth me before men, i will deny him before my father which is in heaven?" this we may say, that whatsoever a subject, as naaman was, is compelled to in obedience to his soveraign, and doth it not in order to his own mind, but in order to the laws of his country, that action is not his, but his soveraigns; nor is it he that in this case denyeth christ before men, but his governour, and the law of his countrey. if any man shall accuse this doctrine, as repugnant to true, and unfeigned christianity; i ask him, in case there should be a subject in any christian common-wealth, that should be inwardly in his heart of the mahometan religion, whether if his soveraign command him to bee present at the divine service of the christian church, and that on pain of death, he think that mamometan obliged in conscience to suffer death for that cause, rather than to obey that command of his lawful prince. if he say, he ought rather to suffer death, then he authorizeth all private men, to disobey their princes, in maintenance of their religion, true, or false; if he say, he ought to bee obedient, then he alloweth to himself, that which hee denyeth to another, contrary to the words of our saviour, "whatsoever you would that men should doe unto you, that doe yee unto them;" and contrary to the law of nature, (which is the indubitable everlasting law of god) "do not to another, that which thou wouldest not he should doe unto thee." of martyrs but what then shall we say of all those martyrs we read of in the history of the church, that they have needlessely cast away their lives? for answer hereunto, we are to distinguish the persons that have been for that cause put to death; whereof some have received a calling to preach, and professe the kingdome of christ openly; others have had no such calling, nor more has been required of them than their owne faith. the former sort, if they have been put to death, for bearing witnesse to this point, that jesus christ is risen from the dead, were true martyrs; for a martyr is, (to give the true definition of the word) a witnesse of the resurrection of jesus the messiah; which none can be but those that conversed with him on earth, and saw him after he was risen: for a witnesse must have seen what he testifieth, or else his testimony is not good. and that none but such, can properly be called martyrs of christ, is manifest out of the words of st. peter, act. . , . "wherefore of these men which have companyed with us all the time that the lord jesus went in and out amongst us, beginning from the baptisme of john unto that same day hee was taken up from us, must one be ordained to be a martyr (that is a witnesse) with us of his resurrection:" where we may observe, that he which is to bee a witnesse of the truth of the resurrection of christ, that is to say, of the truth of this fundamentall article of christian religion, that jesus was the christ, must be some disciple that conversed with him, and saw him before, and after his resurrection; and consequently must be one of his originall disciples: whereas they which were not so, can witnesse no more, but that their antecessors said it, and are therefore but witnesses of other mens testimony; and are but second martyrs, or martyrs of christs witnesses. he, that to maintain every doctrine which he himself draweth out of the history of our saviours life, and of the acts, or epistles of the apostles; or which he beleeveth upon the authority of a private man, wil oppose the laws and authority of the civill state, is very far from being a martyr of christ, or a martyr of his martyrs. 'tis one article onely, which to die for, meriteth so honorable a name; and that article is this, that jesus is the christ; that is to say, he that hath redeemed us, and shall come again to give us salvation, and eternall life in his glorious kingdome. to die for every tenet that serveth the ambition, or profit of the clergy, is not required; nor is it the death of the witnesse, but the testimony it self that makes the martyr: for the word signifieth nothing else, but the man that beareth witnesse, whether he be put to death for his testimony, or not. also he that is not sent to preach this fundamentall article, but taketh it upon him of his private authority, though he be a witnesse, and consequently a martyr, either primary of christ, or secondary of his apostles, disciples, or their successors; yet is he not obliged to suffer death for that cause; because being not called thereto, tis not required at his hands; nor ought hee to complain, if he loseth the reward he expecteth from those that never set him on work. none therefore can be a martyr, neither of the first, nor second degree, that have not a warrant to preach christ come in the flesh; that is to say, none, but such as are sent to the conversion of infidels. for no man is a witnesse to him that already beleeveth, and therefore needs no witnesse; but to them that deny, or doubt, or have not heard it. christ sent his apostles, and his seventy disciples, with authority to preach; he sent not all that beleeved: and he sent them to unbeleevers; "i send you (saith he) as sheep amongst wolves;" not as sheep to other sheep. argument from the points of their commission lastly the points of their commission, as they are expressely set down in the gospel, contain none of them any authority over the congregation. to preach we have first (mat. .) that the twelve apostles were sent "to the lost sheep of the house of israel," and commanded to preach, "that the kingdome of god was at hand." now preaching in the originall, is that act, which a crier, herald, or other officer useth to doe publiquely in proclaiming of a king. but a crier hath not right to command any man. and (luke . .) the seventy disciples are sent out, "as labourers, not as lords of the harvest;" and are bidden (verse .) to say, "the kingdome of god is come nigh unto you;" and by kingdome here is meant, not the kingdome of grace, but the kingdome of glory; for they are bidden to denounce it (ver. .) to those cities which shall not receive them, as a threatning, that it shall be more tolerable in that day for sodome, than for such a city. and (mat. . .) our saviour telleth his disciples, that sought priority of place, their office was to minister, even as the son of man came, not to be ministred unto, but to minister. preachers therefore have not magisteriall, but ministeriall power: "bee not called masters, (saith our saviour, mat. . ) for one is your master, even christ." and teach another point of their commission, is, to teach all nations; as it is in mat. . . or as in st. mark . "goe into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature." teaching therefore, and preaching is the same thing. for they that proclaim the comming of a king, must withall make known by what right he commeth, if they mean men shall submit themselves unto him: as st. paul did to the jews of thessalonica, when "three sabbath days he reasoned with them out of the scriptures, opening, and alledging that christ must needs have suffered, and risen again from the dead, and that this jesus is christ." but to teach out of the old testament that jesus was christ, (that is to say, king,) and risen from the dead, is not to say, that men are bound after they beleeve it, to obey those that tell them so, against the laws, and commands of their soveraigns; but that they shall doe wisely, to expect the coming of christ hereafter, in patience, and faith, with obedience to their present magistrates. to baptize; another point of their commission, is to baptize, "in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost." what is baptisme? dipping into water. but what is it to dip a man into the water in the name of any thing? the meaning of these words of baptisme is this. he that is baptized, is dipped or washed, as a sign of becomming a new man, and a loyall subject to that god, whose person was represented in old time by moses, and the high priests, when he reigned over the jews; and to jesus christ, his sonne, god, and man, that hath redeemed us, and shall in his humane nature represent his fathers person in his eternall kingdome after the resurrection; and to acknowledge the doctrine of the apostles, who assisted by the spirit of the father, and of the son, were left for guides to bring us into that kingdome, to be the onely, and assured way thereunto. this, being our promise in baptisme; and the authority of earthly soveraigns being not to be put down till the day of judgment; (for that is expressely affirmed by s. paul cor. . , , . where he saith, "as in adam all die, so in christ all shall be made alive. but every man in his owne order, christ the first fruits, afterward they that are christs, at his comming; then commeth the end, when he shall have delivered up the kingdome of god, even the father, when he shall have put down all rule, and all authority and power") it is manifest, that we do not in baptisme constitute over us another authority, by which our externall actions are to be governed in this life; but promise to take the doctrine of the apostles for our direction in the way to life eternall. and to forgive, and retain sinnes the power of remission, and retention of sinnes, called also the power of loosing, and binding, and sometimes the keyes of the kingdome of heaven, is a consequence of the authority to baptize, or refuse to baptize. for baptisme is the sacrament of allegeance, of them that are to be received into the kingdome of god; that is to say, into eternall life; that is to say, to remission of sin: for as eternall life was lost by the committing, so it is recovered by the remitting of mens sins. the end of baptisme is remission of sins: and therefore st. peter, when they that were converted by his sermon on the day of pentecost, asked what they were to doe, advised them to "repent, and be baptized in the name of jesus, for the remission of sins." and therefore seeing to baptize is to declare the reception of men into gods kingdome; and to refuse to baptize is to declare their exclusion; it followeth, that the power to declare them cast out, or retained in it, was given to the same apostles, and their substitutes, and successors. and therefore after our saviour had breathed upon them, saying, (john . .) "receive the holy ghost," hee addeth in the next verse, "whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained." by which words, is not granted an authority to forgive, or retain sins, simply and absolutely, as god forgiveth or retaineth them, who knoweth the heart of man, and truth of his penitence and conversion; but conditionally, to the penitent: and this forgivenesse, or absolution, in case the absolved have but a feigned repentance, is thereby without other act, or sentence of the absolvent, made void, and hath no effect at all to salvation, but on the contrary, to the aggravation of his sin. therefore the apostles, and their successors, are to follow but the outward marks of repentance; which appearing, they have no authority to deny absolution; and if they appeare not, they have no authority to absolve. the same also is to be observed in baptisme: for to a converted jew, or gentile, the apostles had not the power to deny baptisme; nor to grant it to the un-penitent. but seeing no man is able to discern the truth of another mans repentance, further than by externall marks, taken from his words, and actions, which are subject to hypocrisie; another question will arise, who it is that is constituted judge of those marks. and this question is decided by our saviour himself; (mat. . , , .) "if thy brother (saith he) shall trespasse against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee, and him alone; if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother. but if he will not hear thee, then take with thee one, or two more. and if he shall neglect to hear them, tell it unto the church, let him be unto thee as an heathen man, and a publican." by which it is manifest, that the judgment concerning the truth of repentance, belonged not to any one man, but to the church, that is, to the assembly of the faithfull, or to them that have authority to bee their representant. but besides the judgment, there is necessary also the pronouncing of sentence: and this belonged alwaies to the apostle, or some pastor of the church, as prolocutor; and of this our saviour speaketh in the verse, "whatsoever ye shall bind on earth, shall be bound in heaven; and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth, shall be loosed in heaven." and comformable hereunto was the practise of st. paul ( cor. . , , & .) where he saith, "for i verily, as absent in body, but present in spirit, have determined already, as though i were present, concerning him that hath so done this deed; in the name of our lord jesus christ when ye are gathered together, and my spirit, with the power of our lord jesus christ, to deliver such a one to satan;" that is to say, to cast him out of the church, as a man whose sins are not forgiven. paul here pronounceth the sentence; but the assembly was first to hear the cause, (for st. paul was absent;) and by consequence to condemn him. but in the same chapter (ver. , .) the judgment in such a case is more expressely attributed to the assembly: "but now i have written unto you, not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, &c. with such a one no not to eat. for what have i to do to judg them that are without? do not ye judg them that are within?" the sentence therefore by which a man was put out of the church, was pronounced by the apostle, or pastor; but the judgment concerning the merit of the cause, was in the church; that is to say, (as the times were before the conversion of kings, and men that had soveraign authority in the common-wealth,) the assembly of the christians dwelling in the same city; as in corinth, in the assembly of the christians of corinth. of excommunication this part of the power of the keyes, by which men were thrust out from the kingdome of god, is that which is called excommunication; and to excommunicate, is in the originall, aposunagogon poiein, to cast out of the synagogue; that is, out of the place of divine service; a word drawn from the custom of the jews, to cast out of their synagogues, such as they thought in manners, or doctrine, contagious, as lepers were by the law of moses separated from the congregation of israel, till such time as they should be by the priest pronounced clean. the use of excommunication without civill power. the use and effect of excommunication, whilest it was not yet strengthened with the civill power, was no more, than that they, who were not excommunicate, were to avoid the company of them that were. it was not enough to repute them as heathen, that never had been christians; for with such they might eate, and drink; which with excommunicate persons they might not do; as appeareth by the words of st. paul, ( cor. . ver. , , &c.) where he telleth them, he had formerly forbidden them to "company with fornicators;" but (because that could not bee without going out of the world,) he restraineth it to such fornicators, and otherwise vicious persons, as were of the brethren; "with such a one" (he saith) they ought not to keep company, "no, not to eat." and this is no more than our saviour saith (mat. . .) "let him be to thee as a heathen, and as a publican." for publicans (which signifieth farmers, and receivers of the revenue of the common-wealth) were so hated, and detested by the jews that were to pay for it, as that publican and sinner were taken amongst them for the same thing: insomuch, as when our saviour accepted the invitation of zacchaeus a publican; though it were to convert him, yet it was objected to him as a crime. and therefore, when our saviour, to heathen, added publican, he did forbid them to eat with a man excommunicate. as for keeping them out of their synagogues, or places of assembly, they had no power to do it, but that of the owner of the place, whether he were christian, or heathen. and because all places are by right, in the dominion of the common-wealth; as well hee that was excommunicated, as hee that never was baptized, might enter into them by commission from the civill magistrate; as paul before his conversion entred into their synagogues at damascus, (acts . .) to apprehend christians, men and women, and to carry them bound to jerusalem, by commission from the high priest. of no effect upon an apostate by which it appears, that upon a christian, that should become an apostate, in a place where the civill power did persecute, or not assist the church, the effect of excommunication had nothing in it, neither of dammage in this world, nor of terrour: not of terrour, because of their unbeleef; nor of dammage, because they returned thereby into the favour of the world; and in the world to come, were to be in no worse estate, then they which never had beleeved. the dammage redounded rather to the church, by provocation of them they cast out, to a freer execution of their malice. but upon the faithfull only excommunication therefore had its effect onely upon those, that beleeved that jesus christ was to come again in glory, to reign over, and to judge both the quick, and the dead, and should therefore refuse entrance into his kingdom, to those whose sins were retained; that is, to those that were excommunicated by the church. and thence it is that st. paul calleth excommunication, a delivery of the excommunicate person to satan. for without the kingdom of christ, all other kingdomes after judgment, are comprehended in the kingdome of satan. this is it that the faithfull stood in fear of, as long as they stood excommunicate, that is to say, in an estate wherein their sins were not forgiven. whereby wee may understand, that excommunication in the time that christian religion was not authorized by the civill power, was used onely for a correction of manners, not of errours in opinion: for it is a punishment, whereof none could be sensible but such as beleeved, and expected the coming again of our saviour to judge the world; and they who so beleeved, needed no other opinion, but onely uprightnesse of life, to be saved. for what fault lyeth excommunication there lyeth excommunication for injustice; as (mat. .) if thy brother offend thee, tell it him privately; then with witnesses; lastly, tell the church; and then if he obey not, "let him be to thee as an heathen man, and a publican." and there lyeth excommunication for a scandalous life, as ( cor. . .) "if any man that is called a brother, be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a drunkard, or an extortioner, with such a one yee are not to eat." but to excommunicate a man that held this foundation, that jesus was the christ, for difference of opinion in other points, by which that foundation was not destroyed, there appeareth no authority in the scripture, nor example in the apostles. there is indeed in st. paul (titus . .) a text that seemeth to be to the contrary. "a man that is an haeretique, after the first and second admonition, reject." for an haeretique, is he, that being a member of the church, teacheth neverthelesse some private opinion, which the church has forbidden: and such a one, s. paul adviseth titus, after the first, and second admonition, to reject. but to reject (in this place) is not to excommunicate the man; but to give over admonishing him, to let him alone, to set by disputing with him, as one that is to be convinced onely by himselfe. the same apostle saith ( tim. . .) "foolish and unlearned questions avoid;" the word avoid in this place, and reject in the former, is the same in the originall, paraitou: but foolish questions may bee set by without excommunication. and again, (tit. . ) "avoid foolish questions," where the originall, periistaso, (set them by) is equivalent to the former word reject. there is no other place that can so much as colourably be drawn, to countenance the casting out of the church faithfull men, such as beleeved the foundation, onely for a singular superstructure of their own, proceeding perhaps from a good & pious conscience. but on the contrary, all such places as command avoiding such disputes, are written for a lesson to pastors, (such as timothy and titus were) not to make new articles of faith, by determining every small controversie, which oblige men to a needlesse burthen of conscience, or provoke them to break the union of the church. which lesson the apostles themselves observed well. s. peter and s. paul, though their controversie were great, (as we may read in gal. . .) yet they did not cast one another out of the church. neverthelesse, during the apostles time, there were other pastors that observed it not; as diotrephes ( john . &c.) who cast out of the church, such as s. john himself thought fit to be received into it, out of a pride he took in praeeminence; so early it was, that vainglory, and ambition had found entrance into the church of christ. of persons liable to excommunication that a man be liable to excommunication, there be many conditions requisite; as first, that he be a member of some commonalty, that is to say, of some lawfull assembly, that is to say, of some christian church, that hath power to judge of the cause for which hee is to bee excommunicated. for where there is no community, there can bee no excommunication; nor where there is no power to judge, can there bee any power to give sentence. from hence it followeth, that one church cannot be excommunicated by another: for either they have equall power to excommunicate each other, in which case excommunication is not discipline, nor an act of authority, but schisme, and dissolution of charity; or one is so subordinate to the other, as that they both have but one voice, and then they be but one church; and the part excommunicated, is no more a church, but a dissolute number of individuall persons. and because the sentence of excommunication, importeth an advice, not to keep company, nor so much as to eat with him that is excommunicate, if a soveraign prince, or assembly bee excommunicate, the sentence is of no effect. for all subjects are bound to be in the company and presence of their own soveraign (when he requireth it) by the law of nature; nor can they lawfully either expell him from any place of his own dominion, whether profane or holy; nor go out of his dominion, without his leave; much lesse (if he call them to that honour,) refuse to eat with him. and as to other princes and states, because they are not parts of one and the same congregation, they need not any other sentence to keep them from keeping company with the state excommunicate: for the very institution, as it uniteth many men into one community; so it dissociateth one community from another: so that excommunication is not needfull for keeping kings and states asunder; nor has any further effect then is in the nature of policy it selfe; unlesse it be to instigate princes to warre upon one another. nor is the excommunication of a christian subject, that obeyeth the laws of his own soveraign, whether christian, or heathen, of any effect. for if he beleeve that "jesus is the christ, he hath the spirit of god" ( joh. . .) "and god dwelleth in him, and he in god," ( joh. . .) but hee that hath the spirit of god; hee that dwelleth in god; hee in whom god dwelleth, can receive no harm by the excommunication of men. therefore, he that beleeveth jesus to be the christ, is free from all the dangers threatned to persons excommunicate. he that beleeveth it not, is no christian. therefore a true and unfeigned christian is not liable to excommunication; nor he also that is a professed christian, till his hypocrisy appear in his manners, that is, till his behaviour bee contrary to the law of his soveraign, which is the rule of manners, and which christ and his apostles have commanded us to be subject to. for the church cannot judge of manners but by externall actions, which actions can never bee unlawfull, but when they are against the law of the common-wealth. if a mans father, or mother, or master bee excommunicate, yet are not the children forbidden to keep them company, nor to eat with them; for that were (for the most part) to oblige them not to eat at all, for want of means to get food; and to authorise them to disobey their parents, and masters, contrary to the precept of the apostles. in summe, the power of excommunication cannot be extended further than to the end for which the apostles and pastors of the church have their commission from our saviour; which is not to rule by command and coaction, but by teaching and direction of men in the way of salvation in the world to come. and as a master in any science, may abandon his scholar, when hee obstinately neglecteth the practise of his rules; but not accuse him of injustice, because he was never bound to obey him: so a teacher of christian doctrine may abandon his disciples that obstinately continue in an unchristian life; but he cannot say, they doe him wrong, because they are not obliged to obey him: for to a teacher that shall so complain, may be applyed the answer of god to samuel in the like place, ( sam. .) "they have not rejected thee, but mee." excommunication therefore when it wanteth the assistance of the civill power, as it doth, when a christian state, or prince is excommunicate by a forain authority, is without effect; and consequently ought to be without terrour. the name of fulmen excommunicationis (that is, the thunderbolt of excommunication) proceeded from an imagination of the bishop of rome, which first used it, that he was king of kings, as the heathen made jupiter king of the gods; and assigned him in their poems, and pictures, a thunderbolt, wherewith to subdue, and punish the giants, that should dare to deny his power: which imagination was grounded on two errours; one, that the kingdome of christ is of this world, contrary to our saviours owne words, "my kingdome is not of this world;" the other, that hee is christs vicar, not onely over his owne subjects, but over all the christians of the world; whereof there is no ground in scripture, and the contrary shall bee proved in its due place. of the interpreter of the scriptures before civill soveraigns became christians st. paul coming to thessalonica, where was a synagogue of the jews, (acts . , .) "as his manner was, went in unto them, and three sabbath dayes reasoned with them out of the scriptures, opening and alledging, that christ must needs have suffered and risen again from the dead; and that this jesus whom he preached was the christ." the scriptures here mentioned were the scriptures of the jews, that is, the old testament. the men, to whom he was to prove that jesus was the christ, and risen again from the dead, were also jews, and did beleeve already, that they were the word of god. hereupon (as it is verse .) some of them beleeved, and (as it is in the . ver.) some beleeved not. what was the reason, when they all beleeved the scripture, that they did not all beleeve alike; but that some approved, others disapproved the interpretation of st. paul that cited them; and every one interpreted them to himself? it was this; s. paul came to them without any legall commission, and in the manner of one that would not command, but perswade; which he must needs do, either by miracles, as moses did to the israelites in egypt, that they might see his authority in gods works; or by reasoning from the already received scripture, that they might see the truth of his doctrine in gods word. but whosoever perswadeth by reasoning from principles written, maketh him to whom hee speaketh judge, both of the meaning of those principles, and also of the force of his inferences upon them. if these jews of thessalonica were not, who else was the judge of what s. paul alledged out of scripture? if s. paul, what needed he to quote any places to prove his doctrine? it had been enough to have said, i find it so in scripture, that is to say, in your laws, of which i am interpreter, as sent by christ. the interpreter therefore of the scripture, to whose interpretation the jews of thessalonica were bound to stand, could be none: every one might beleeve, or not beleeve, according as the allegations seemed to himselfe to be agreeable, or not agreeable to the meaning of the places alledged. and generally in all cases of the world, hee that pretendeth any proofe, maketh judge of his proofe him to whom he addresseth his speech. and as to the case of the jews in particular, they were bound by expresse words (deut. .) to receive the determination of all hard questions, from the priests and judges of israel for the time being. but this is to bee understood of the jews that were yet unconverted. for the conversion of the gentiles, there was no use of alledging the scriptures, which they beleeved not. the apostles therefore laboured by reason to confute their idolatry; and that done, to perswade them to the faith of christ, by their testimony of his life, and resurrection. so that there could not yet bee any controversie concerning the authority to interpret scripture; seeing no man was obliged during his infidelity, to follow any mans interpretation of any scripture, except his soveraigns interpretation of the laws of his countrey. let us now consider the conversion it self, and see what there was therein, that could be cause of such an obligation. men were converted to no other thing then to the beleef of that which the apostles preached: and the apostles preached nothing, but that jesus was the christ, that is to say, the king that was to save them, and reign over them eternally in the world to come; and consequently that hee was not dead, but risen again from the dead, and gone up into heaven, and should come again one day to judg the world, (which also should rise again to be judged,) and reward every man according to his works. none of them preached that himselfe, or any other apostle was such an interpreter of the scripture, as all that became christians, ought to take their interpretation for law. for to interpret the laws, is part of the administration of a present kingdome; which the apostles had not. they prayed then, and all other pastors ever since, "let thy kingdome come;" and exhorted their converts to obey their then ethnique princes. the new testament was not yet published in one body. every of the evangelists was interpreter of his own gospel; and every apostle of his own epistle; and of the old testament, our saviour himselfe saith to the jews (john . .) "search the scriptures; for in them yee thinke to have eternall life, and they are they that testifie of me." if hee had not meant they should interpret them, hee would not have bidden them take thence the proof of his being the christ; he would either have interpreted them himselfe, or referred them to the interpretation of the priests. when a difficulty arose, the apostles and elders of the church assembled themselves together, and determined what should bee preached, and taught, and how they should interpret the scriptures to the people; but took not from the people the liberty to read, and interpret them to themselves. the apostles sent divers letters to the churches, and other writings for their instruction; which had been in vain, if they had not allowed them to interpret, that is, to consider the meaning of them. and as it was in the apostles time, it must be till such time as there should be pastors, that could authorise an interpreter, whose interpretation should generally be stood to: but that could not be till kings were pastors, or pastors kings. of the power to make scripture law there be two senses, wherein a writing may be said to be canonicall; for canon, signifieth a rule; and a rule is a precept, by which a man is guided, and directed in any action whatsoever. such precepts, though given by a teacher to his disciple, or a counsellor to his friend, without power to compell him to observe them, are neverthelesse canons; because they are rules: but when they are given by one, whom he that receiveth them is bound to obey, then are those canons, not onely rules, but laws: the question therefore here, is of the power to make the scriptures (which are the rules of christian faith) laws. of the ten commandements that part of the scripture, which was first law, was the ten commandements, written in two tables of stone, and delivered by god himselfe to moses; and by moses made known to the people. before that time there was no written law of god, who as yet having not chosen any people to bee his peculiar kingdome, had given no law to men, but the law of nature, that is to say, the precepts of naturall reason, written in every mans own heart. of these two tables, the first containeth the law of soveraignty; . that they should not obey, nor honour the gods of other nations, in these words, "non habebis deos alienos coram me," that is, "thou shalt not have for gods, the gods that other nations worship; but onely me:" whereby they were forbidden to obey, or honor, as their king and governour, any other god, than him that spake unto them then by moses, and afterwards by the high priest. . that they "should not make any image to represent him;" that is to say, they were not to choose to themselves, neither in heaven, nor in earth, any representative of their own fancying, but obey moses and aaron, whom he had appointed to that office. . that "they should not take the name of god in vain;" that is, they should not speak rashly of their king, nor dispute his right, nor the commissions of moses and aaron, his lieutenants. . that "they should every seventh day abstain from their ordinary labour," and employ that time in doing him publique honor. the second table containeth the duty of one man towards another, as "to honor parents; not to kill; not to commit adultery; not to steale; not to corrupt judgment by false witnesse;" and finally, "not so much as to designe in their heart the doing of any injury one to another." the question now is, who it was that gave to these written tables the obligatory force of lawes. there is no doubt but that they were made laws by god himselfe: but because a law obliges not, nor is law to any, but to them that acknowledge it to be the act of the soveraign, how could the people of israel that were forbidden to approach the mountain to hear what god said to moses, be obliged to obedience to all those laws which moses propounded to them? some of them were indeed the laws of nature, as all the second table; and therefore to be acknowledged for gods laws; not to the israelites alone, but to all people: but of those that were peculiar to the israelites, as those of the first table, the question remains; saving that they had obliged themselves, presently after the propounding of them, to obey moses, in these words (exod. . .) "speak them thou to us, and we will hear thee; but let not god speak to us, lest we die." it was therefore onely moses then, and after him the high priest, whom (by moses) god declared should administer this his peculiar kingdome, that had on earth, the power to make this short scripture of the decalogue to bee law in the common-wealth of israel. but moses, and aaron, and the succeeding high priests were the civill soveraigns. therefore hitherto, the canonizing, or making of the scripture law, belonged to the civill soveraigne. of the judicial, and leviticall law the judiciall law, that is to say, the laws that god prescribed to the magistrates of israel, for the rule of their administration of justice, and of the sentences, or judgments they should pronounce, in pleas between man and man; and the leviticall law, that is to say, the rule that god prescribed touching the rites and ceremonies of the priests and levites, were all delivered to them by moses onely; and therefore also became lawes, by vertue of the same promise of obedience to moses. whether these laws were then written, or not written, but dictated to the people by moses (after his forty dayes being with god in the mount) by word of mouth, is not expressed in the text; but they were all positive laws, and equivalent to holy scripture, and made canonicall by moses the civill soveraign. the second law after the israelites were come into the plains of moab over against jericho, and ready to enter into the land of promise, moses to the former laws added divers others; which therefore are called deuteronomy: that is, second laws. and are (as it is written, deut. . .) "the words of a covenant which the lord commanded moses to make with the children of israel, besides the covenant which he made with them in horeb." for having explained those former laws, in the beginning of the book of deuteronomy, he addeth others, that begin at the . cha. and continue to the end of the . of the same book. this law (deut. . .) they were commanded to write upon great stones playstered over, at their passing over jordan: this law also was written by moses himself in a book; and delivered into the hands of the "priests, and to the elders of israel," (deut. . .) and commanded (ve. .) "to be put in the side of the arke;" for in the ark it selfe was nothing but the ten commandements. this was the law, which moses (deuteronomy . .) commanded the kings of israel should keep a copie of: and this is the law, which having been long time lost, was found again in the temple in the time of josiah, and by his authority received for the law of god. but both moses at the writing, and josiah at the recovery thereof, had both of them the civill soveraignty. hitherto therefore the power of making scripture canonicall, was in the civill soveraign. besides this book of the law, there was no other book, from the time of moses, till after the captivity, received amongst the jews for the law of god. for the prophets (except a few) lived in the time of the captivity it selfe; and the rest lived but a little before it; and were so far from having their prophecies generally received for laws, as that their persons were persecuted, partly by false prophets, and partly by the kings which were seduced by them. and this book it self, which was confirmed by josiah for the law of god, and with it all the history of the works of god, was lost in the captivity, and sack of the city of jerusalem, as appears by that of esdras . . "thy law is burnt; therefor no man knoweth the things that are done of thee, of the works that shall begin." and before the captivity, between the time when the law was lost, (which is not mentioned in the scripture, but may probably be thought to be the time of rehoboam, when shishak king of egypt took the spoils of the temple,( kings . .)) and the time of josiah, when it was found againe, they had no written word of god, but ruled according to their own discretion, or by the direction of such, as each of them esteemed prophets. the old testament, when made canonicall from whence we may inferre, that the scriptures of the old testament, which we have at this day, were not canonicall, nor a law unto the jews, till the renovation of their covenant with god at their return from the captivity, and restauration of their common-wealth under esdras. but from that time forward they were accounted the law of the jews, and for such translated into greek by seventy elders of judaea, and put into the library of ptolemy at alexandria, and approved for the word of god. now seeing esdras was the high priest, and the high priest was their civill soveraigne, it is manifest, that the scriptures were never made laws, but by the soveraign civill power. the new testament began to be canonicall under christian soveraigns by the writings of the fathers that lived in the time before that christian religion was received, and authorised by constantine the emperour, we may find, that the books wee now have of the new testament, were held by the christians of that time (except a few, in respect of whose paucity the rest were called the catholique church, and others haeretiques) for the dictates of the holy ghost; and consequently for the canon, or rule of faith: such was the reverence and opinion they had of their teachers; as generally the reverence that the disciples bear to their first masters, in all manner of doctrine they receive from them, is not small. therefore there is no doubt, but when s. paul wrote to the churches he had converted; or any other apostle, or disciple of christ, to those which had then embraced christ, they received those their writings for the true christian doctrine. but in that time, when not the power and authority of the teacher, but the faith of the hearer caused them to receive it, it was not the apostles that made their own writings canonicall, but every convert made them so to himself. but the question here, is not what any christian made a law, or canon to himself, (which he might again reject, by the same right he received it;) but what was so made a canon to them, as without injustice they could not doe any thing contrary thereunto. that the new testament should in this sense be canonicall, that is to say, a law in any place where the law of the common-wealth had not made it so, is contrary to the nature of a law. for a law, (as hath been already shewn) is the commandement of that man, or assembly, to whom we have given soveraign authority, to make such rules for the direction of our actions, as hee shall think fit; and to punish us, when we doe any thing contrary to the same. when therefore any other man shall offer unto us any other rules, which the soveraign ruler hath not prescribed, they are but counsell, and advice; which, whether good, or bad, hee that is counselled, may without injustice refuse to observe, and when contrary to the laws already established, without injustice cannot observe, how good soever he conceiveth it to be. i say, he cannot in this case observe the same in his actions, nor in his discourse with other men; though he may without blame beleeve the his private teachers, and wish he had the liberty to practise their advice; and that it were publiquely received for law. for internall faith is in its own nature invisible, and consequently exempted from all humane jurisdiction; whereas the words, and actions that proceed from it, as breaches of our civil obedience, are injustice both before god and man. seeing then our saviour hath denyed his kingdome to be in this world, seeing he hath said, he came not to judge, but to save the world, he hath not subjected us to other laws than those of the common-wealth; that is, the jews to the law of moses, (which he saith (mat. .) he came not to destroy, but to fulfill,) and other nations to the laws of their severall soveraigns, and all men to the laws of nature; the observing whereof, both he himselfe, and his apostles have in their teaching recommended to us, as a necessary condition of being admitted by him in the last day into his eternall kingdome, wherein shall be protection, and life everlasting. seeing then our saviour, and his apostles, left not new laws to oblige us in this world, but new doctrine to prepare us for the next; the books of the new testament, which containe that doctrine, untill obedience to them was commanded, by them that god hath given power to on earth to be legislators, were not obligatory canons, that is, laws, but onely good, and safe advice, for the direction of sinners in the way to salvation, which every man might take, and refuse at his owne perill, without injustice. again, our saviour christs commission to his apostles, and disciples, was to proclaim his kingdome (not present, but) to come; and to teach all nations; and to baptize them that should beleeve; and to enter into the houses of them that should receive them; and where they were not received, to shake off the dust of their feet against them; but not to call for fire from heaven to destroy them, nor to compell them to obedience by the sword. in all which there is nothing of power, but of perswasion. he sent them out as sheep unto wolves, not as kings to their subjects. they had not in commission to make laws; but to obey, and teach obedience to laws made; and consequently they could not make their writings obligatory canons, without the help of the soveraign civill power. and therefore the scripture of the new testament is there only law, where the lawfull civill power hath made it so. and there also the king, or soveraign, maketh it a law to himself; by which he subjecteth himselfe, not to the doctor, or apostle, that converted him, but to god himself, and his son jesus christ, as immediately as did the apostles themselves. of the power of councells to make the scripture law that which may seem to give the new testament, in respect of those that have embraced christian doctrine, the force of laws, in the times, and places of persecution, is the decrees they made amongst themselves in their synods. for we read (acts . .) the stile of the councell of the apostles, the elders, and the whole church, in this manner, "it seemed good to the holy ghost, and to us, to lay upon you no greater burthen than these necessary things, &c." which is a stile that signifieth a power to lay a burthen on them that had received their doctrine. now "to lay a burthen on another," seemeth the same that "to oblige;" and therefore the acts of that councell were laws to the then christians. neverthelesse, they were no more laws than are these other precepts, "repent, be baptized; keep the commandements; beleeve the gospel; come unto me; sell all that thou hast; give it to the poor;" and "follow me;" which are not commands, but invitations, and callings of men to christianity, like that of esay . . "ho, every man that thirsteth, come yee to the waters, come, and buy wine and milke without money." for first, the apostles power was no other than that of our saviour, to invite men to embrace the kingdome of god; which they themselves acknowledged for a kingdome (not present, but) to come; and they that have no kingdome, can make no laws. and secondly, if their acts of councell, were laws, they could not without sin be disobeyed. but we read not any where, that they who received not the doctrine of christ, did therein sin; but that they died in their sins; that is, that their sins against the laws to which they owed obedience, were not pardoned. and those laws were the laws of nature, and the civill laws of the state, whereto every christian man had by pact submitted himself. and therefore by the burthen, which the apostles might lay on such as they had converted, are not to be understood laws, but conditions, proposed to those that sought salvation; which they might accept, or refuse at their own perill, without a new sin, though not without the hazard of being condemned, and excluded out of the kingdome of god for their sins past. and therefore of infidels, s. john saith not, the wrath of god shall "come" upon them, but "the wrath of god remaineth upon them;" and not that they shall be condemned; but that "they are condemned already."(john . , . ) nor can it be conceived, that the benefit of faith, "is remission of sins" unlesse we conceive withall, that the dammage of infidelity, is "the retention of the same sins." but to what end is it (may some man aske), that the apostles, and other pastors of the church, after their time, should meet together, to agree upon what doctrine should be taught, both for faith and manners, if no man were obliged to observe their decrees? to this may be answered, that the apostles, and elders of that councell, were obliged even by their entrance into it, to teach the doctrine therein concluded, and decreed to be taught, so far forth, as no precedent law, to which they were obliged to yeeld obedience, was to the contrary; but not that all other christians should be obliged to observe, what they taught. for though they might deliberate what each of them should teach; yet they could not deliberate what others should do, unless their assembly had had a legislative power; which none could have but civill soveraigns. for though god be the soveraign of all the world, we are not bound to take for his law, whatsoever is propounded by every man in his name; nor any thing contrary to the civill law, which god hath expressely commanded us to obey. seeing then the acts of councell of the apostles, were then no laws, but councells; much lesse are laws the acts of any other doctors, or councells since, if assembled without the authority of the civill soveraign. and consequently, the books of the new testament, though most perfect rules of christian doctrine, could not be made laws by any other authority then that of kings, or soveraign assemblies. the first councell, that made the scriptures we now have, canon, is not extant: for that collection the first bishop of rome after s. peter, is subject to question: for though the canonicall books bee there reckoned up; yet these words, "sint vobis omnibus clericis & laicis libris venerandi, &c." containe a distinction of clergy, and laity, that was not in use so neer st. peters time. the first councell for setling the canonicall scripture, that is extant, is that of laodicea, can. . which forbids the reading of other books then those in the churches; which is a mandate that is not addressed to every christian, but to those onely that had authority to read any publiquely in the church; that is, to ecclesiastiques onely. of the right of constituting ecclesiasticall officers in the time of the apostles of ecclesiastical officers in the time of the apostles, some were magisteriall, some ministeriall. magisteriall were the offices of preaching of the gospel of the kingdom of god to infidels; of administring the sacraments, and divine service; and of teaching the rules of faith and manners to those that were converted. ministeriall was the office of deacons, that is, of them that were appointed to the administration of the secular necessities of the church, at such time as they lived upon a common stock of mony, raised out of the voluntary contributions of the faithfull. amongst the officers magisteriall, the first, and principall were the apostles; whereof there were at first but twelve; and these were chosen and constituted by our saviour himselfe; and their office was not onely to preach, teach, and baptize, but also to be martyrs, (witnesses of our saviours resurrection.) this testimony, was the specificall, and essentiall mark; whereby the apostleship was distinguished from other magistracy ecclesiasticall; as being necessary for an apostle, either to have seen our saviour after his resurrection, or to have conversed with him before, and seen his works, and other arguments of his divinity, whereby they might be taken for sufficient witnesses. and therefore at the election of a new apostle in the place of judas iscariot, s. peter saith (acts . , .) "of these men that have companyed with us, all the time that the lord jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptisme of john unto that same day that he was taken up from us, must one be ordained to be a witnesse with us of his resurrection:" where, by this word must, is implyed a necessary property of an apostle, to have companyed with the first and prime apostles in the time that our saviour manifested himself in the flesh. matthias made apostle by the congregation. the first apostle, of those which were not constituted by christ in the time he was upon the earth, was matthias, chosen in this manner: there were assembled together in jerusalem about christians (acts . .) these appointed two, joseph the just, and matthias (ver. .) and caused lots to be drawn; "and (ver. .) the lot fell on matthias and he was numbred with the apostles." so that here we see the ordination of this apostle, was the act of the congregation, and not of st. peter, nor of the eleven, otherwise then as members of the assembly. paul and barnabas made apostles by the church of antioch after him there was never any other apostle ordained, but paul and barnabas, which was done (as we read acts . , , .) in this manner. "there were in the church that was at antioch, certaine prophets, and teachers; as barnabas, and simeon that was called niger, and lucius of cyrene, and manaen; which had been brought up with herod the tetrarch, and saul. as they ministred unto the lord, and fasted, the holy ghost said, 'separate mee barnabas, and saul for the worke whereunto i have called them.' and when they had fasted, and prayed, and laid their hands on them, they sent them away." by which it is manifest, that though they were called by the holy ghost, their calling was declared unto them, and their mission authorized by the particular church of antioch. and that this their calling was to the apostleship, is apparent by that, that they are both called (acts . .) apostles: and that it was by vertue of this act of the church of antioch, that they were apostles, s. paul declareth plainly (rom. . .) in that hee useth the word, which the holy ghost used at his calling: for he stileth himself, "an apostle separated unto the gospel of god;" alluding to the words of the holy ghost, "separate me barnabas and saul, &c." but seeing the work of an apostle, was to be a witnesse of the resurrection of christ, and man may here aske, how s. paul that conversed not with our saviour before his passion, could know he was risen. to which it is easily answered, that our saviour himself appeared to him in the way to damascus, from heaven, after his ascension; "and chose him for a vessell to bear his name before the gentiles, and kings, and children of israel;" and consequently (having seen the lord after his passion) was a competent witnesse of his resurrection: and as for barnabas, he was a disciple before the passion. it is therefore evident that paul, and barnabas were apostles; and yet chosen, and authorized (not by the first apostles alone, but) by the church of antioch; as matthias was chosen, and authorized by the church of jerusalem. what offices in the church are magisteriall bishop, a word formed in our language, out of the greek episcopus, signifieth an overseer, or superintendent of any businesse, and particularly a pastor or shepherd; and thence by metaphor was taken, not only amongst the jews that were originally shepherds, but also amongst the heathen, to signifie the office of a king, or any other ruler, or guide of people, whether he ruled by laws, or doctrine. and so the apostles were the first christian bishops, instituted by christ himselfe: in which sense the apostleship of judas is called (acts . .) his bishoprick. and afterwards, when there were constituted elders in the christian churches, with charge to guide christs flock by their doctrine, and advice; these elders were also called bishops. timothy was an elder (which word elder, in the new testament is a name of office, as well as of age;) yet he was also a bishop. and bishops were then content with the title of elders. nay s. john himselfe, the apostle beloved of our lord, beginneth his second epistle with these words, "the elder to the elect lady." by which it is evident, that bishop, pastor, elder, doctor, that is to say, teacher, were but so many divers names of the same office in the time of the apostles. for there was then no government by coercion, but only by doctrine, and perswading. the kingdome of god was yet to come, in a new world; so that there could be no authority to compell in any church, till the common-wealth had embraced the christian faith; and consequently no diversity of authority, though there were diversity of employments. besides these magisteriall employments in the church, namely apostles, bishops, elders, pastors, and doctors, whose calling was to proclaim christ to the jews, and infidels, and to direct, and teach those that beleeved we read in the new testament of no other. for by the names of evangelists and prophets, is not signified any office, but severall gifts, by which severall men were profitable to the church: as evangelists, by writing the life and acts of our saviour; such as were s. matthew and s. john apostles, and s. marke and s. luke disciples, and whosoever else wrote of that subject, (as s. thomas, and s. barnabas are said to have done, though the church have not received the books that have gone under their names:) and as prophets, by the gift of interpreting the old testament; and sometimes by declaring their speciall revelations to the church. for neither these gifts, nor the gifts of languages, nor the gift of casting out devils, or of curing other diseases, nor any thing else did make an officer in the church, save onely the due calling and election to the charge of teaching. ordination of teachers as the apostles, matthias, paul, and barnabas, were not made by our saviour himself, but were elected by the church, that is, by the assembly of christians; namely, matthias by the church of jerusalem, and paul, and barnabas by the church of antioch; so were also the presbyters, and pastors in other cities, elected by the churches of those cities. for proof whereof, let us consider, first, how s. paul proceeded in the ordination of presbyters, in the cities where he had converted men to the christian faith, immediately after he and barnabas had received their apostleship. we read (acts . .) that "they ordained elders in every church;" which at first sight may be taken for an argument, that they themselves chose, and gave them their authority: but if we consider the originall text, it will be manifest, that they were authorized, and chosen by the assembly of the christians of each city. for the words there are, "cheirotonesantes autoispresbuterous kat ekklesian," that is, "when they had ordained them elders by the holding up of hands in every congregation." now it is well enough known, that in all those cities, the manner of choosing magistrates, and officers, was by plurality of suffrages; and (because the ordinary way of distinguishing the affirmative votes from the negatives, was by holding up of hands) to ordain an officer in any of the cities, was no more but to bring the people together, to elect them by plurality of votes, whether it were by plurality of elevated hands, or by plurality of voices, or plurality of balls, or beans, or small stones, of which every man cast in one, into a vessell marked for the affirmative, or negative; for divers cities had divers customes in that point. it was therefore the assembly that elected their own elders: the apostles were onely presidents of the assembly to call them together for such election, and to pronounce them elected, and to give them the benediction, which now is called consecration. and for this cause they that were presidents of the assemblies, as (in the absence of the apostles) the elders were, were called proestotes, and in latin antistities; which words signifie the principall person of the assembly, whose office was to number the votes, and to declare thereby who was chosen; and where the votes were equall, to decide the matter in question, by adding his own; which is the office of a president in councell. and (because all the churches had their presbyters ordained in the same manner,) where the word is constitute, (as titus . .) "ina katasteses kata polin presbuterous," "for this cause left i thee in crete, that thou shouldest constitute elders in every city," we are to understand the same thing; namely, that hee should call the faithfull together, and ordain them presbyters by plurality of suffrages. it had been a strange thing, if in a town, where men perhaps had never seen any magistrate otherwise chosen then by an assembly, those of the town becomming christians, should so much as have thought on any other way of election of their teachers, and guides, that is to say, of their presbyters, (otherwise called bishops,) then this of plurality of suffrages, intimated by s. paul (acts . .) in the word cheirotonesantes: nor was there ever any choosing of bishops, (before the emperors found it necessary to regulate them in order to the keeping of the peace amongst them,) but by the assemblies of the christians in every severall town. the same is also confirmed by the continuall practise even to this day, in the election of the bishops of rome. for if the bishop of any place, had the right of choosing another, to the succession of the pastorall office, in any city, at such time as he went from thence, to plant the same in another place; much more had he had the right, to appoint his successour in that place, in which he last resided and dyed: and we find not, that ever any bishop of rome appointed his successor. for they were a long time chosen by the people, as we may see by the sedition raised about the election, between damascus, and ursinicus; which ammianus marcellinus saith was so great, that juventius the praefect, unable to keep the peace between them, was forced to goe out of the city; and that there were above an hundred men found dead upon that occasion in the church it self. and though they afterwards were chosen, first, by the whole clergy of rome, and afterwards by the cardinalls; yet never any was appointed to the succession by his predecessor. if therefore they pretended no right to appoint their successors, i think i may reasonably conclude, they had no right to appoint the new power; which none could take from the church to bestow on them, but such as had a lawfull authority, not onely to teach, but to command the church; which none could doe, but the civill soveraign. ministers of the church what the word minister in the originall diakonos signifieth one that voluntarily doth the businesse of another man; and differeth from a servant onely in this, that servants are obliged by their condition, to what is commanded them; whereas ministers are obliged onely by their undertaking, and bound therefore to no more than that they have undertaken: so that both they that teach the word of god, and they that administer the secular affairs of the church, are both ministers, but they are ministers of different persons. for the pastors of the church, called (acts . .) "the ministers of the word," are ministers of christ, whose word it is: but the ministery of a deacon, which is called (verse . of the same chapter) "serving of tables," is a service done to the church, or congregation: so that neither any one man, nor the whole church, could ever of their pastor say, he was their minister; but of a deacon, whether the charge he undertook were to serve tables, or distribute maintenance to the christians, when they lived in each city on a common stock, or upon collections, as in the first times, or to take a care of the house of prayer, or of the revenue, or other worldly businesse of the church, the whole congregation might properly call him their minister. for their employment, as deacons, was to serve the congregation; though upon occasion they omitted not to preach the gospel, and maintain the doctrine of christ, every one according to his gifts, as s. steven did; and both to preach, and baptize, as philip did: for that philip, which (act. . .) preached the gospel at samaria, and (verse .) baptized the eunuch, was philip the deacon, not philip the apostle. for it is manifest (verse .) that when philip preached in samaria, the apostles were at jerusalem, and (verse .) "when they heard that samaria had received the word of god, sent peter and john to them;" by imposition of whose hands, they that were baptized (verse .) received (which before by the baptisme of philip they had not received) the holy ghost. for it was necessary for the conferring of the holy ghost, that their baptisme should be administred, or confirmed by a minister of the word, not by a minister of the church. and therefore to confirm the baptisme of those that philip the deacon had baptized, the apostles sent out of their own number from jerusalem to samaria, peter, and john; who conferred on them that before were but baptized, those graces that were signs of the holy spirit, which at that time did accompany all true beleevers; which what they were may be understood by that which s. marke saith (chap. . .) "these signs follow them that beleeve in my name; they shall cast out devills; they shall speak with new tongues; they shall take up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover." this to doe, was it that philip could not give; but the apostles could, and (as appears by this place) effectually did to every man that truly beleeved, and was by a minister of christ himself baptized: which power either christs ministers in this age cannot conferre, or else there are very few true beleevers, or christ hath very few ministers. and how chosen what that the first deacons were chosen, not by the apostles, but by a congregation of the disciples; that is, of christian men of all sorts, is manifest out of acts . where we read that the twelve, after the number of disciples was multiplyed, called them together, and having told them, that it was not fit that the apostles should leave the word of god, and serve tables, said unto them (verse .) "brethren looke you out among you seven men of honest report, full of the holy ghost, and of wisdome, whom we may appoint over this businesse." here it is manifest, that though the apostles declared them elected; yet the congregation chose them; which also, (verse the fift) is more expressely said, where it is written, that "the saying pleased the multitude, and they chose seven, &c." of ecclesiasticall revenue, under the law of moses under the old testament, the tribe of levi were onely capable of the priesthood, and other inferiour offices of the church. the land was divided amongst the other tribes (levi excepted,) which by the subdivision of the tribe of joseph, into ephraim and manasses, were still twelve. to the tribe of levi were assigned certain cities for their habitation, with the suburbs for their cattell: but for their portion, they were to have the tenth of the fruits of the land of their brethren. again, the priests for their maintenance had the tenth of that tenth, together with part of the oblations, and sacrifices. for god had said to aaron (numb. . .) "thou shalt have no inheritance in their land, neither shalt thou have any part amongst them, i am thy part, and thine inheritance amongst the children of israel." for god being then king, and having constituted the tribe of levi to be his publique ministers, he allowed them for their maintenance, the publique revenue, that is to say, the part that god had reserved to himself; which were tythes, and offerings: and that it is which is meant, where god saith, i am thine inheritance. and therefore to the levites might not unfitly be attributed the name of clergy from kleros, which signifieth lot, or inheritance; not that they were heirs of the kingdome of god, more than other; but that gods inheritance, was their maintenance. now seeing in this time god himself was their king, and moses, aaron, and the succeeding high priests were his lieutenants; it is manifest, that the right of tythes, and offerings was constituted by the civill power. after their rejection of god in the demand of a king, they enjoyed still the same revenue; but the right thereof was derived from that, that the kings did never take it from them: for the publique revenue was at the disposing of him that was the publique person; and that (till the captivity) was the king. and again, after the return from the captivity, they paid their tythes as before to the priest. hitherto therefore church livings were determined by the civill soveraign. in our saviours time, and after of the maintenance of our saviour, and his apostles, we read onely they had a purse, (which was carried by judas iscariot;) and, that of the apostles, such as were fisher-men, did sometimes use their trade; and that when our saviour sent the twelve apostles to preach, he forbad them "to carry gold, and silver, and brasse in their purses, for that the workman is worthy of his hire:" (mat. . , .) by which it is probable, their ordinary maintenance was not unsuitable to their employment; for their employment was (ver. .) "freely to give, because they had freely received;" and their maintenance was the free gift of those that beleeved the good tyding they carryed about of the coming of the messiah their saviour. to which we may adde, that which was contributed out of gratitude, by such as our saviour had healed of diseases; of which are mentioned "certain women (luke . , .) which had been healed of evill spirits and infirmities; mary magdalen, out of whom went seven devills; and joanna the wife of chuza, herods steward; and susanna, and many others, which ministred unto him of their substance. after our saviours ascension, the christians of every city lived in common, (acts . .) upon the mony which was made of the sale of their lands and possessions, and laid down at the feet of the apostles, of good will, not of duty; for "whilest the land remained (saith s. peter to ananias acts . .) was it not thine? and after it was sold, was it not in thy power?" which sheweth he needed not to have saved his land, nor his money by lying, as not being bound to contribute any thing at all, unlesse he had pleased. and as in the time of the apostles, so also all the time downward, till after constantine the great, we shall find, that the maintenance of the bishops, and pastors of the christian church, was nothing but the voluntary contribution of them that had embraced their doctrine. there was yet no mention of tythes: but such was in the time of constantine, and his sons, the affection of christians to their pastors, as ammianus marcellinus saith (describing the sedition of damasus and ursinicus about the bishopricke,) that it was worth their contention, in that the bishops of those times by the liberality of their flock, and especially of matrons, lived splendidly, were carryed in coaches, and sumptuous in their fare and apparell. the ministers of the gospel lived on the benevolence of their flocks but here may some ask, whether the pastor were then bound to live upon voluntary contribution, as upon almes, "for who (saith s. paul cor. . .) goeth to war at his own charges? or who feedeth a flock, and eatheth not of the milke of the flock?" and again, ( cor. . .) "doe ye not know that they which minister about holy things, live of the things of the temple; and they which wait at the altar, partake with the altar;" that is to say, have part of that which is offered at the altar for their maintenance? and then he concludeth, "even so hath the lord appointed, that they which preach the gospel should live of the gospel. from which place may be inferred indeed, that the pastors of the church ought to be maintained by their flocks; but not that the pastors were to determine, either the quantity, or the kind of their own allowance, and be (as it were) their own carvers. their allowance must needs therefore be determined, either by the gratitude, and liberality of every particular man of their flock, or by the whole congregation. by the whole congregation it could not be, because their acts were then no laws: therefore the maintenance of pastors, before emperours and civill soveraigns had made laws to settle it, was nothing but benevolence. they that served at the altar lived on what was offered. in what court should they sue for it, who had no tribunalls? or if they had arbitrators amongst themselves, who should execute their judgments, when they had no power to arme their officers? it remaineth therefore, that there could be no certaine maintenance assigned to any pastors of the church, but by the whole congregation; and then onely, when their decrees should have the force (not onely of canons, but also) of laws; which laws could not be made, but by emperours, kings, or other civill soveraignes. the right of tythes in moses law, could not be applyed to the then ministers of the gospell; because moses and the high priests were the civill soveraigns of the people under god, whose kingdom amongst the jews was present; whereas the kingdome of god by christ is yet to come. hitherto hath been shewn what the pastors of the church are; what are the points of their commission (as that they were to preach, to teach, to baptize, to be presidents in their severall congregations;) what is ecclesiasticall censure, viz. excommunication, that is to say, in those places where christianity was forbidden by the civill laws, a putting of themselves out of the company of the excommunicate, and where christianity was by the civill law commanded, a putting the excommunicate out of the congregations of christians; who elected the pastors and ministers of the church, (that it was, the congregation); who consecrated and blessed them, (that it was the pastor); what was their due revenue, (that it was none but their own possessions, and their own labour, and the voluntary contributions of devout and gratefull christians). we are to consider now, what office those persons have, who being civill soveraignes, have embraced also the christian faith. the civill soveraign being a christian hath the right of appointing pastors and first, we are to remember, that the right of judging what doctrines are fit for peace, and to be taught the subjects, is in all common-wealths inseparably annexed (as hath been already proved cha. .) to the soveraign power civill, whether it be in one man, or in one assembly of men. for it is evident to the meanest capacity, that mens actions are derived from the opinions they have of the good, or evill, which from those actions redound unto themselves; and consequently, men that are once possessed of an opinion, that their obedience to the soveraign power, will bee more hurtfull to them, than their disobedience, will disobey the laws, and thereby overthrow the common-wealth, and introduce confusion, and civill war; for the avoiding whereof, all civill government was ordained. and therefore in all common-wealths of the heathen, the soveraigns have had the name of pastors of the people, because there was no subject that could lawfully teach the people, but by their permission and authority. this right of the heathen kings, cannot bee thought taken from them by their conversion to the faith of christ; who never ordained, that kings for beleeving in him, should be deposed, that is, subjected to any but himself, or (which is all one) be deprived of the power necessary for the conservation of peace amongst their subjects, and for their defence against foraign enemies. and therefore christian kings are still the supreme pastors of their people, and have power to ordain what pastors they please, to teach the church, that is, to teach the people committed to their charge. again, let the right of choosing them be (as before the conversion of kings) in the church, for so it was in the time of the apostles themselves (as hath been shewn already in this chapter); even so also the right will be in the civill soveraign, christian. for in that he is a christian, he allowes the teaching; and in that he is the soveraign (which is as much as to say, the church by representation,) the teachers hee elects, are elected by the church. and when an assembly of christians choose their pastor in a christian common-wealth, it is the soveraign that electeth him, because tis done by his authority; in the same manner, as when a town choose their maior, it is the act of him that hath the soveraign power: for every act done, is the act of him, without whose consent it is invalid. and therefore whatsoever examples may be drawn out of history, concerning the election of pastors, by the people, or by the clergy, they are no arguments against the right of any civill soveraign, because they that elected them did it by his authority. seeing then in every christian common-wealth, the civill soveraign is the supreme pastor, to whose charge the whole flock of his subjects is committed, and consequently that it is by his authority, that all other pastors are made, and have power to teach, and performe all other pastorall offices; it followeth also, that it is from the civill soveraign, that all other pastors derive their right of teaching, preaching, and other functions pertaining to that office; and that they are but his ministers; in the same manner as the magistrates of towns, judges in courts of justice, and commanders of armies, are all but ministers of him that is the magistrate of the whole common-wealth, judge of all causes, and commander of the whole militia, which is alwayes the civill soveraign. and the reason hereof, is not because they that teach, but because they that are to learn, are his subjects. for let it be supposed, that a christian king commit the authority of ordaining pastors in his dominions to another king, (as divers christian kings allow that power to the pope;) he doth not thereby constitute a pastor over himself, nor a soveraign pastor over his people; for that were to deprive himself of the civill power; which depending on the opinion men have of their duty to him, and the fear they have of punishment in another world, would depend also on the skill, and loyalty of doctors, who are no lesse subject, not only to ambition, but also to ignorance, than any other sort of men. so that where a stranger hath authority to appoint teachers, it is given him by the soveraign in whose dominions he teacheth. christian doctors are our schoolmasters to christianity; but kings are fathers of families, and may receive schoolmasters for their subjects from the recommendation of a stranger, but not from the command; especially when the ill teaching them shall redound to the great and manifest profit of him that recommends them: nor can they be obliged to retain them, longer than it is for the publique good; the care of which they stand so long charged withall, as they retain any other essentiall right of the soveraignty. the pastorall authority of soveraigns only is de jure divino, that of other pastors is jure civili if a man therefore should ask a pastor, in the execution of his office, as the chief priests and elders of the people (mat. . .) asked our saviour, "by what authority dost thou these things, and who gave thee this authority:" he can make no other just answer, but that he doth it by the authority of the common-wealth, given him by the king, or assembly that representeth it. all pastors, except the supreme, execute their charges in the right, that is by the authority of the civill soveraign, that is, jure civili. but the king, and every other soveraign executeth his office of supreme pastor, by immediate authority from god, that is to say, in gods right, or jure divino. and therefore none but kings can put into their titles (a mark of their submission to god onely ) dei gratia rex, &c. bishops ought to say in the beginning of their mandates, "by the favour of the kings majesty, bishop of such a diocesse;" or as civill ministers, "in his majesties name." for in saying, divina providentia, which is the same with dei gratia, though disguised, they deny to have received their authority from the civill state; and sliely slip off the collar of their civill subjection, contrary to the unity and defence of the common-wealth. christian kings have power to execute all manner of pastoral function but if every christian soveraign be the supreme pastor of his own subjects, it seemeth that he hath also the authority, not only to preach (which perhaps no man will deny;) but also to baptize, and to administer the sacrament of the lords supper; and to consecrate both temples, and pastors to gods service; which most men deny; partly because they use not to do it; and partly because the administration of sacraments, and consecration of persons, and places to holy uses, requireth the imposition of such mens hands, as by the like imposition successively from the time of the apostles have been ordained to the like ministery. for proof therefore that christian kings have power to baptize, and to consecrate, i am to render a reason, both why they use not to doe it, and how, without the ordinary ceremony of imposition of hands, they are made capable of doing it, when they will. there is no doubt but any king, in case he were skilfull in the sciences, might by the same right of his office, read lectures of them himself, by which he authorizeth others to read them in the universities. neverthelesse, because the care of the summe of the businesse of the common-wealth taketh up his whole time, it were not convenient for him to apply himself in person to that particular. a king may also if he please, sit in judgment, to hear and determine all manner of causes, as well as give others authority to doe it in his name; but that the charge that lyeth upon him of command and government, constrain him to bee continually at the helm, and to commit the ministeriall offices to others under him. in the like manner our saviour (who surely had power to baptize) baptized none himselfe, but sent his apostles and disciples to baptize. (john . .) so also s. paul, by the necessity of preaching in divers and far distant places, baptized few: amongst all the corinthians he baptized only crispus, cajus, and stephanus; ( cor. . , .) and the reason was, because his principall charge was to preach. ( cor. . .) whereby it is manifest, that the greater charge, (such as is the government of the church,) is a dispensation for the lesse. the reason therefore why christian kings use not to baptize, is evident, and the same, for which at this day there are few baptized by bishops, and by the pope fewer. and as concerning imposition of hands, whether it be needfull, for the authorizing of a king to baptize, and consecrate, we may consider thus. imposition of hands, was a most ancient publique ceremony amongst the jews, by which was designed, and made certain, the person, or other thing intended in a mans prayer, blessing, sacrifice, consecration, condemnation, or other speech. so jacob in blessing the children of joseph (gen. . .) "laid his right hand on ephraim the younger, and his left hand on manasseh the first born;" and this he did wittingly (though they were so presented to him by joseph, as he was forced in doing it to stretch out his arms acrosse) to design to whom he intended the greater blessing. so also in the sacrificing of the burnt offering, aaron is commanded (exod. . .) "to lay his hands on the head of the bullock;" and (ver. .) "to lay his hand on the head of the ramme." the same is also said again, levit. . . & . . likewise moses when he ordained joshua to be captain of the israelites, that is, consecrated him to gods service, (numb. . .) "laid his hands upon him, and gave him his charge," designing and rendring certain, who it was they were to obey in war. and in the consecration of the levites (numb. . .) god commanded that "the children of israel should put their hands upon the levites." and in the condemnation of him that had blasphemed the lord (levit. . .) god commanded that "all that heard him should lay their hands on his head, and that all the congregation should stone him." and why should they only that heard him, lay their hands upon him, and not rather a priest, levite, or other minister of justice, but that none else were able to design, and demonstrate to the eyes of the congregation, who it was that had blasphemed, and ought to die? and to design a man, or any other thing, by the hand to the eye is lesse subject to mistake, than when it is done to the eare by a name. and so much was this ceremony observed, that in blessing the whole congregation at once, which cannot be done by laying on of hands, yet "aaron (levit. . .) did lift up his hand towards the people when he blessed them." and we read also of the like ceremony of consecration of temples amongst the heathen, as that the priest laid his hands on some post of the temple, all the while he was uttering the words of consecration. so naturall it is to design any individuall thing, rather by the hand, to assure the eyes, than by words to inform the eare in matters of gods publique service. this ceremony was not therefore new in our saviours time. for jairus (mark . .) whose daughter was sick, besought our saviour (not to heal her, but) "to lay his hands upon her, that shee might bee healed." and (matth. . .) "they brought unto him little children, that hee should put his hands on them, and pray." according to this ancient rite, the apostles, and presbyters, and the presbytery it self, laid hands on them whom they ordained pastors, and withall prayed for them that they might receive the holy ghost; and that not only once, but sometimes oftner, when a new occasion was presented: but the end was still the same, namely a punctuall, and religious designation of the person, ordained either to the pastorall charge in general, or to a particular mission: so (act. . .) "the apostles prayed, and laid their hands" on the seven deacons; which was done, not to give them the holy ghost, (for they were full of the holy ghost before thy were chosen, as appeareth immediately before, verse .) but to design them to that office. and after philip the deacon had converted certain persons in samaria, peter and john went down (act. . .)" and laid their hands on them, and they received the holy ghost." and not only an apostle, but a presbyter had this power: for s. paul adviseth timothy ( tim. . .) "lay hands suddenly on no man;" that is, designe no man rashly to the office of a pastor. the whole presbytery laid their hands on timothy, as we read tim. . . but this is to be understood, as that some did it by the appointment of the presbytery, and most likely their proestos, or prolocutor, which it may be was st. paul himself. for in his epist. to tim. ver. . he saith to him, "stirre up the gift of god which is in thee, by the laying on of my hands:" where note by the way, that by the holy ghost, is not meant the third person in the trinity, but the gifts necessary to the pastorall office. we read also, that st. paul had imposition of hands twice; once from ananias at damascus (acts . , .) at the time of his baptisme; and again (acts . .) at antioch, when he was first sent out to preach. the use then of this ceremony considered in the ordination of pastors, was to design the person to whom they gave such power. but if there had been then any christian, that had had the power of teaching before; the baptizing of him, that is the making of him a christian, had given him no new power, but had onely caused him to preach true doctrine, that is, to use his power aright; and therefore the imposition of hands had been unnecessary; baptisme it selfe had been sufficient. but every soveraign, before christianity, had the power of teaching, and ordaining teachers; and therefore christianity gave them no new right, but only directed them in the way of teaching truth; and consequently they needed no imposition of hands (besides that which is done in baptisme) to authorize them to exercise any part of the pastorall function, as namely, to baptize, and consecrate. and in the old testament, though the priest only had right to consecrate, during the time that the soveraignty was in the high priest; yet it was not so when the soveraignty was in the king: for we read ( kings .) that solomon blessed the people, consecrated the temple, and pronounced that publique prayer, which is the pattern now for consecration of all christian churches, and chappels: whereby it appears, he had not only the right of ecclesiasticall government; but also of exercising ecclesiasticall functions. the civill soveraigne if a christian, is head of the church in his own dominions from this consolidation of the right politique, and ecclesiastique in christian soveraigns, it is evident, they have all manner of power over their subjects, that can be given to man, for the government of mens externall actions, both in policy, and religion; and may make such laws, as themselves shall judge fittest, for the government of their own subjects, both as they are the common-wealth, and as they are the church: for both state, and church are the same men. if they please therefore, they may (as many christian kings now doe) commit the government of their subjects in matters of religion to the pope; but then the pope is in that point subordinate to them, and exerciseth that charge in anothers dominion jure civili, in the right of the civill soveraign; not jure divino, in gods right; and may therefore be discharged of that office, when the soveraign for the good of his subjects shall think it necessary. they may also if they please, commit the care of religion to one supreme pastor, or to an assembly of pastors; and give them what power over the church, or one over another, they think most convenient; and what titles of honor, as of bishops, archbishops, priests, or presbyters, they will; and make such laws for their maintenance, either by tithes, or otherwise, as they please, so they doe it out of a sincere conscience, of which god onely is the judge. it is the civill soveraign, that is to appoint judges, and interpreters of the canonicall scriptures; for it is he that maketh them laws. it is he also that giveth strength to excommunications; which but for such laws and punishments, as may humble obstinate libertines, and reduce them to union with the rest of the church, would bee contemned. in summe, he hath the supreme power in all causes, as well ecclesiasticall, as civill, as far as concerneth actions, and words, for these onely are known, and may be accused; and of that which cannot be accused, there is no judg at all, but god, that knoweth the heart. and these rights are incident to all soveraigns, whether monarchs, or assemblies: for they that are the representants of a christian people, are representants of the church: for a church, and a common-wealth of christian people, are the same thing. cardinal bellarmines books de summo pontifice considered though this that i have here said, and in other places of this book, seem cleer enough for the asserting of the supreme ecclesiasticall power to christian soveraigns; yet because the pope of romes challenge to that power universally, hath been maintained chiefly, and i think as strongly as is possible, by cardinall bellarmine, in his controversie de summo pontifice; i have thought it necessary, as briefly as i can, to examine the grounds, and strength of his discourse. the first book of five books he hath written of this subject, the first containeth three questions: one, which is simply the best government, monarchy, aristocracy, or democracy; and concludeth for neither, but for a government mixt of all there: another, which of these is the best government of the church; and concludeth for the mixt, but which should most participate of monarchy: the third, whether in this mixt monarchy, st. peter had the place of monarch. concerning his first conclusion, i have already sufficiently proved (chapt. .) that all governments which men are bound to obey, are simple, and absolute. in monarchy there is but one man supreme; and all other men that have any kind of power in the state, have it by his commission, during his pleasure; and execute it in his name: and in aristocracy, and democracy, but one supreme assembly, with the same power that in monarchy belongeth to the monarch, which is not a mixt, but an absolute soveraignty. and of the three sorts, which is the best, is not to be disputed, where any one of them is already established; but the present ought alwaies to be preferred, maintained, and accounted best; because it is against both the law of nature, and the divine positive law, to doe any thing tending to the subversion thereof. besides, it maketh nothing to the power of any pastor, (unlesse he have the civill soveraignty,) what kind of government is the best; because their calling is not to govern men by commandement, but to teach them, and perswade them by arguments, and leave it to them to consider, whether they shall embrace, or reject the doctrine taught. for monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, do mark out unto us three sorts of soveraigns, not of pastors; or, as we may say, three sorts of masters of families, not three sorts of schoolmasters for their children. and therefore the second conclusion, concerning the best form of government of the church, is nothing to the question of the popes power without his own dominions: for in all other common-wealths his power (if hee have any at all) is that of the schoolmaster onely, and not of the master of the family. for the third conclusion, which is, that st. peter was monarch of the church, he bringeth for his chiefe argument the place of s. matth. (chap. . , .) "thou art peter, and upon this rock i will build my church, &c. and i will give thee the keyes of heaven; whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth, shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth, shall be loosed in heaven." which place well considered, proveth no more, but that the church of christ hath for foundation one onely article; namely, that which peter in the name of all the apostles professing, gave occasion to our saviour to speak the words here cited; which that wee may cleerly understand, we are to consider, that our saviour preached by himself, by john baptist, and by his apostles, nothing but this article of faith, "that he was the christ;" all other articles requiring faith no otherwise, than as founded on that. john began first, (mat. . .) preaching only this, "the kingdome of god is at hand." then our saviour himself (mat. . .) preached the same: and to his twelve apostles, when he gave them their commission (mat. . .) there is no mention of preaching any other article but that. this was the fundamentall article, that is the foundation of the churches faith. afterwards the apostles being returned to him, he asketh them all, (mat. . ) not peter onely, "who men said he was;" and they answered, that "some said he was john the baptist, some elias, and others jeremias, or one of the prophets:" then (ver. .) he asked them all again, (not peter onely) "whom say yee that i am?" therefore peter answered (for them all) "thou art christ, the son of the living god;" which i said is the foundation of the faith of the whole church; from which our saviour takes the occasion of saying, "upon this stone i will build my church;" by which it is manifest, that by the foundation-stone of the church, was meant the fundamentall article of the churches faith. but why then (will some object) doth our saviour interpose these words, "thou art peter"? if the originall of this text had been rigidly translated, the reason would easily have appeared: we are therefore to consider, that the apostle simon, was surnamed stone, (which is the signification of the syriacke word cephas, and of the greek word petrus). our saviour therefore after the confession of that fundamentall article, alluding to his name, said (as if it were in english) thus, thou art "stone," and upon this stone i will build my church: which is as much as to say, this article, that "i am the christ," is the foundation of all the faith i require in those that are to bee members of my church: neither is this allusion to a name, an unusuall thing in common speech: but it had been a strange, and obscure speech, if our saviour intending to build his church on the person of st. peter, had said, "thou art a stone, and upon this stone i will build my church," when it was so obvious without ambiguity to have said, "i will build my church on thee; and yet there had been still the same allusion to his name. and for the following words, "i will give thee the keyes of heaven, &c." it is no more than what our saviour gave also to all the rest of his disciples (matth. . .) "whatsoever yee shall bind on earth, shall be bound in heaven. and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth, shall be loosed in heaven." but howsoever this be interpreted, there is no doubt but the power here granted belongs to all supreme pastors; such as are all christian civill soveraignes in their own dominions. in so much, as if st. peter, or our saviour himself had converted any of them to beleeve him, and to acknowledge his kingdome; yet because his kingdome is not of this world, he had left the supreme care of converting his subjects to none but him; or else hee must have deprived him of the soveraignty, to which the right of teaching is inseparably annexed. and thus much in refutation of his first book, wherein hee would prove st. peter to have been the monarch universall of the church, that is to say, of all the christians in the world. the second book the second book hath two conclusions: one, that s. peter was bishop of rome, and there dyed: the other, that the popes of rome are his successors. both which have been disputed by others. but supposing them to be true; yet if by bishop of rome bee understood either the monarch of the church, or the supreme pastor of it; not silvester, but constantine (who was the first christian emperour) was that bishop; and as constantine, so all other christian emperors were of right supreme bishops of the roman empire; i say of the roman empire, not of all christendome: for other christian soveraigns had the same right in their severall territories, as to an office essentially adhaerent to their soveraignty. which shall serve for answer to his second book. the third book in the third book, he handleth the question whether the pope be antichrist. for my part, i see no argument that proves he is so, in that sense that scripture useth the name: nor will i take any argument from the quality of antichrist, to contradict the authority he exerciseth, or hath heretofore exercised in the dominions of any other prince, or state. it is evident that the prophets of the old testament foretold, and the jews expected a messiah, that is, a christ, that should re-establish amongst them the kingdom of god, which had been rejected by them in the time of samuel, when they required a king after the manner of other nations. this expectation of theirs, made them obnoxious to the imposture of all such, as had both the ambition to attempt the attaining of the kingdome, and the art to deceive the people by counterfeit miracles, by hypocriticall life, or by orations and doctrine plausible. our saviour therefore, and his apostles forewarned men of false prophets, and of false christs. false christs, are such as pretend to be the christ, but are not, and are called properly antichrists, in such sense, as when there happeneth a schisme in the church by the election of two popes, the one calleth the other antipapa, or the false pope. and therefore antichrist in the proper signification hath two essentiall marks; one, that he denyeth jesus to be christ; and another that he professeth himselfe to bee christ. the first mark is set down by s. john in his epist. . ch. . ver. "every spirit that confesseth not that jesus christ is come in the flesh, is not of god; and this is the spirit of antichrist." the other mark is expressed in the words of our saviour, (mat. . .) "many shall come in my name, saying, i am christ;" and again, "if any man shall say unto you, loe, here is christ, there is christ beleeve it not." and therefore antichrist must be a false christ, that is, some one of them that shall pretend themselves to be christ. and out of these two marks, "to deny jesus to be the christ," and to "affirm himselfe to be the christ," it followeth, that he must also be an "adversary of the true christ," which is another usuall signification of the word antichrist. but of these many antichrists, there is one speciall one, o antichristos, the antichrist, or antichrist definitely, as one certaine person; not indefinitely an antichrist. now seeing the pope of rome, neither pretendeth himself, nor denyeth jesus to be the christ, i perceive not how he can be called antichrist; by which word is not meant, one that falsely pretendeth to be his lieutenant, or vicar generall, but to be hee. there is also some mark of the time of this speciall antichrist, as (mat. . .) when that abominable destroyer, spoken of by daniel, (dan. . .) shall stand in the holy place, and such tribulation as was not since the beginning of the world, nor ever shall be again, insomuch as if it were to last long, (ver. .) "no flesh could be saved; but for the elects sake those days shall be shortened" (made fewer). but that tribulation is not yet come; for it is to be followed immediately (ver. .) by a darkening of the sun and moon, a falling of the stars, a concussion of the heavens, and the glorious coming again of our saviour, in the cloudes. and therefore the antichrist is not yet come; whereas, many popes are both come and gone. it is true, the pope in taking upon him to give laws to all christian kings, and nations, usurpeth a kingdome in this world, which christ took not on him: but he doth it not as christ, but as for christ, wherein there is nothing of the antichrist. the fourth book in the fourth book, to prove the pope to be the supreme judg in all questions of faith and manners, (which is as much as to be the absolute monarch of all christians in the world,) be bringeth three propositions: the first, that his judgments are infallible: the second, that he can make very laws, and punish those that observe them not: the third, that our saviour conferred all jurisdiction ecclesiasticall on the pope of rome. texts for the infallibility of the popes judgement in points of faith for the infallibility of his judgments, he alledgeth the scriptures: and first, that of luke . . "simon, simon, satan hath desired you that hee may sift you as wheat; but i have prayed for thee, that thy faith faile not; and when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren." this, according to bellarmines exposition, is, that christ gave here to simon peter two priviledges: one, that neither his faith should fail, neither he, nor any of his successors should ever define any point concerning faith, or manners erroneously, or contrary to the definition of a former pope: which is a strange, and very much strained interpretation. but he that with attention readeth that chapter, shall find there is no place in the whole scripture, that maketh more against the popes authority, than this very place. the priests and scribes seeking to kill our saviour at the passeover, and judas possessed with a resolution to betray him, and the day of killing the passeover being come, our saviour celebrated the same with his apostles, which he said, till the kingdome of god was come hee would doe no more; and withall told them, that one of them was to betray him: hereupon they questioned, which of them it should be; and withall (seeing the next passeover their master would celebrate should be when he was king) entred into a contention, who should then be the greater man. our saviour therefore told them, that the kings of the nations had dominion over their subjects, and are called by a name (in hebrew) that signifies bountifull; but i cannot be so to you, you must endeavour to serve one another; i ordain you a kingdome, but it is such as my father hath ordained mee; a kingdome that i am now to purchase with my blood, and not to possesse till my second coming; then yee shall eat and drink at my table, and sit on thrones, judging the twelve tribes of israel: and then addressing himself to st. peter, he saith, simon, simon, satan seeks by suggesting a present domination, to weaken your faith of the future; but i have prayed for thee, that thy faith shall not fail; thou therefore (note this,) being converted, and understanding my kingdome as of another world, confirm the same faith in thy brethren: to which s. peter answered (as one that no more expected any authority in this world) "lord i am ready to goe with thee, not onely to prison, but to death." whereby it is manifest, s. peter had not onely no jurisdiction given him in this world, but a charge to teach all the other apostles, that they also should have none. and for the infallibility of st. peters sentence definitive in matter of faith, there is no more to be attributed to it out of this text, than that peter should continue in the beleef of this point, namely, that christ should come again, and possesse the kingdome at the day of judgement; which was not given by the text to all his successors; for wee see they claim it in the world that now is. the second place is that of matth. . "thou art peter, and upon this rocke i will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." by which (as i have already shewn in this chapter) is proved no more, than that the gates of hell shall not prevail against the confession of peter, which gave occasion to that speech; namely this, that jesus is christ the sonne of god. the third text is john . ver. , . "feed my sheep;" which contains no more but a commission of teaching: and if we grant the rest of the apostles to be contained in that name of sheep; then it is the supreme power of teaching: but it was onely for the time that there were no christian soveraigns already possessed of that supremacy. but i have already proved, that christian soveraignes are in their owne dominions the supreme pastors, and instituted thereto, by vertue of their being baptized, though without other imposition of hands. for such imposition being a ceremony of designing the person, is needlesse, when hee is already designed to the power of teaching what doctrine he will, by his institution to an absolute power over his subjects. for as i have proved before, soveraigns are supreme teachers (in generall) by their office and therefore oblige themselves (by their baptisme) to teach the doctrine of christ: and when they suffer others to teach their people, they doe it at the perill of their own souls; for it is at the hands of the heads of families that god will require the account of the instruction of his children and servants. it is of abraham himself, not of a hireling, that god saith (gen. . ) "i know him that he will command his children, and his houshold after him, that they keep the way of the lord, and do justice and judgement. the fourth place is that of exod. . . "thou shalt put in the breastplate of judgment, the urim and the thummin:" which hee saith is interpreted by the septuagint, delosin kai aletheian, that is, evidence and truth: and thence concludeth, god had given evidence, and truth, (which is almost infallibility,) to the high priest. but be it evidence and truth it selfe that was given; or be it but admonition to the priest to endeavour to inform himself cleerly, and give judgment uprightly; yet in that it was given to the high priest, it was given to the civill soveraign: for next under god was the high priest in the common-wealth of israel; and is an argument for evidence and truth, that is, for the ecclesiasticall supremacy of civill soveraigns over their own subjects, against the pretended power of the pope. these are all the texts hee bringeth for the infallibility of the judgement of the pope, in point of faith. texts for the same in point of manners for the infallibility of his judgment concerning manners, hee bringeth one text, which is that of john . . "when the spirit of truth is come, hee will lead you into all truth" where (saith he) by all truth, is meant, at least, all truth necessary to salvation. but with this mitigation, he attributeth no more infallibility to the pope, than to any man that professeth christianity, and is not to be damned: for if any man erre in any point, wherein not to erre is necessary to salvation, it is impossible he should be saved; for that onely is necessary to salvation, without which to be saved is impossible. what points these are, i shall declare out of the scripture in the chapter following. in this place i say no more, but that though it were granted, the pope could not possibly teach any error at all, yet doth not this entitle him to any jurisdiction in the dominions of another prince, unlesse we shall also say, a man is obliged in conscience to set on work upon all occasions the best workman, even then also when he hath formerly promised his work to another. besides the text, he argueth from reason, thus, if the pope could erre in necessaries, then christ hath not sufficiently provided for the churches salvation; because he hath commanded her to follow the popes directions. but this reason is invalid, unlesse he shew when, and where christ commanded that, or took at all any notice of a pope: nay granting whatsoever was given to s. peter was given to the pope; yet seeing there is in the scripture no command to any man to obey st. peter, no man can bee just, that obeyeth him, when his commands are contrary to those of his lawfull soveraign. lastly, it hath not been declared by the church, nor by the pope himselfe, that he is the civill soveraign of all the christians in the world; and therefore all christians are not bound to acknowledge his jurisdiction in point of manners. for the civill soveraignty, and supreme judicature in controversies of manners, are the same thing: and the makers of civill laws, are not onely declarers, but also makers of the justice, and injustice of actions; there being nothing in mens manners that makes them righteous, or unrighteous, but their conformity with the law of the soveraign. and therefore when the pope challengeth supremacy in controversies of manners, hee teacheth men to disobey the civill soveraign; which is an erroneous doctrine, contrary to the many precepts of our saviour and his apostles, delivered to us in the scripture. to prove the pope has power to make laws, he alledgeth many places; as first, deut. . . "the man that will doe presumptuously, and will not hearken unto the priest, (that standeth to minister there before the lord thy god, or unto the judge,) even that man shall die, and thou shalt put away the evill from israel." for answer whereunto, we are to remember that the high priest (next and immediately under god) was the civill soveraign; and all judges were to be constituted by him. the words alledged sound therefore thus. "the man that will presume to disobey the civill soveraign for the time being, or any of his officers in the execution of their places, that man shall die, &c." which is cleerly for the civill soveraignty, against the universall power of the pope. secondly, he alledgeth that of matth. . "whatsoever yee shall bind, &c." and interpreteth it for such binding as is attributed (matth. . .) to the scribes and pharisees, "they bind heavy burthens, and grievous to be born, and lay them on mens shoulders;" by which is meant (he sayes) making of laws; and concludes thence, the pope can make laws. but this also maketh onely for the legislative power of civill soveraigns: for the scribes, and pharisees sat in moses chaire, but moses next under god was soveraign of the people of israel: and therefore our saviour commanded them to doe all that they should say, but not all that they should do. that is, to obey their laws, but not follow their example. the third place, is john . . "feed my sheep;" which is not a power to make laws, but a command to teach. making laws belongs to the lord of the family; who by his owne discretion chooseth his chaplain, as also a schoolmaster to teach his children. the fourth place john . . is against him. the words are, "as my father sent me, so send i you." but our saviour was sent to redeem (by his death) such as should beleeve; and by his own, and his apostles preaching to prepare them for their entrance into his kingdome; which he himself saith, is not of this world, and hath taught us to pray for the coming of it hereafter, though hee refused (acts . , .) to tell his apostles when it should come; and in which, when it comes, the twelve apostles shall sit on twelve thrones (every one perhaps as high as that of st. peter) to judge the twelve tribes of israel. seeing then god the father sent not our saviour to make laws in this present world, wee may conclude from the text, that neither did our saviour send s. peter to make laws here, but to perswade men to expect his second comming with a stedfast faith; and in the mean time, if subjects, to obey their princes; and if princes, both to beleeve it themselves, and to do their best to make their subjects doe the same; which is the office of a bishop. therefore this place maketh most strongly for the joining of the ecclesiasticall supremacy to the civill soveraignty, contrary to that which cardinall bellarmine alledgeth it for. the fift place is acts . . "it hath seemed good to the holy spirit, and to us, to lay upon you no greater burden, than these necessary things, that yee abstaine from meats offered to idols, and from bloud, and from things strangled, and from fornication." here hee notes the word laying of burdens for the legislative power. but who is there, that reading this text, can say, this stile of the apostles may not as properly be used in giving counsell, as in making laws? the stile of a law is, we command: but, we think good, is the ordinary stile of them, that but give advice; and they lay a burthen that give advice, though it bee conditionall, that is, if they to whom they give it, will attain their ends: and such is the burthen, of abstaining from things strangled, and from bloud; not absolute, but in case they will not erre. i have shewn before (chap. .) that law, is distinguished from counsell, in this, that the reason of a law, is taken from the designe, and benefit of him that prescribeth it; but the reason of a counsell, from the designe, and benefit of him, to whom the counsell is given. but here, the apostles aime onely at the benefit of the converted gentiles, namely their salvation; not at their own benefit; for having done their endeavour, they shall have their reward, whether they be obeyed, or not. and therefore the acts of this councell, were not laws, but counsells. the sixt place is that of rom. . "let every soul be subject to the higher powers, for there is no power but of god;" which is meant, he saith not onely of secular, but also of ecclesiasticall princes. to which i answer, first, that there are no ecclesiasticall princes but those that are also civill soveraignes; and their principalities exceed not the compasse of their civill soveraignty; without those bounds though they may be received for doctors, they cannot be acknowledged for princes. for if the apostle had meant, we should be subject both to our own princes, and also to the pope, he had taught us a doctrine, which christ himself hath told us is impossible, namely, "to serve two masters." and though the apostle say in another place, "i write these things being absent, lest being present i should use sharpnesse, according to the power which the lord hath given me;" it is not, that he challenged a power either to put to death, imprison, banish, whip, or fine any of them, which are punishments; but onely to excommunicate, which (without the civill power) is no more but a leaving of their company, and having no more to doe with them, than with a heathen man, or a publican; which in many occasions might be a greater pain to the excommunicant, than to the excommunicate. the seventh place is cor. . . "shall i come unto you with a rod, or in love, and the spirit of lenity?" but here again, it is not the power of a magistrate to punish offenders, that is meant by a rod; but onely the power of excommunication, which is not in its owne nature a punishment, but onely a denouncing of punishment, that christ shall inflict, when he shall be in possession of his kingdome, at the day of judgment. nor then also shall it bee properly a punishment, as upon a subject that hath broken the law; but a revenge, as upon an enemy, or revolter, that denyeth the right of our saviour to the kingdome: and therefore this proveth not the legislative power of any bishop, that has not also the civill power. the eighth place is, timothy . . "a bishop must be the husband but of one wife, vigilant, sober, &c." which he saith was a law. i thought that none could make a law in the church, but the monarch of the church, st. peter. but suppose this precept made by the authority of st. peter; yet i see no reason why to call it a law, rather than an advice, seeing timothy was not a subject, but a disciple of st. paul; nor the flock under the charge of timothy, his subjects in the kingdome, but his scholars in the schoole of christ: if all the precepts he giveth timothy, be laws, why is not this also a law, "drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy healths sake"? and why are not also the precepts of good physitians, so many laws? but that it is not the imperative manner of speaking, but an absolute subjection to a person, that maketh his precept laws. in like manner, the ninth place, tim. . . "against an elder receive not an accusation, but before two or three witnesses," is a wise precept, but not a law. the tenth place is, luke . . "he that heareth you, heareth mee; and he that despiseth you, despiseth me." and there is no doubt, but he that despiseth the counsell of those that are sent by christ, despiseth the counsell of christ himself. but who are those now that are sent by christ, but such as are ordained pastors by lawfull authority? and who are lawfully ordained, that are not ordained by the soveraign pastor? and who is ordained by the soveraign pastor in a christian common-wealth, that is not ordained by the authority of the soveraign thereof? out of this place therefore it followeth, that he which heareth his soveraign being a christian, heareth christ; and hee that despiseth the doctrine which his king being a christian, authorizeth, despiseth the doctrine of christ (which is not that which bellarmine intendeth here to prove, but the contrary). but all this is nothing to a law. nay more, a christian king, as a pastor, and teacher of his subjects, makes not thereby his doctrines laws. he cannot oblige men to beleeve; though as a civill soveraign he may make laws suitable to his doctrine, which may oblige men to certain actions, and sometimes to such as they would not otherwise do, and which he ought not to command; and yet when they are commanded, they are laws; and the externall actions done in obedience to them, without the inward approbation, are the actions of the soveraign, and not of the subject, which is in that case but as an instrument, without any motion of his owne at all; because god hath commanded to obey them. the eleventh, is every place, where the apostle for counsell, putteth some word, by which men use to signifie command; or calleth the following of his counsell, by the name of obedience. and therefore they are alledged out of cor. . . "i commend you for keeping my precepts as i delivered them to you." the greek is, "i commend you for keeping those things i delivered to you, as i delivered them." which is far from signifying that they were laws, or any thing else, but good counsell. and that of thess. . . "you know what commandements we gave you:" where the greek word is paraggelias edokamen, equivalent to paredokamen, what wee delivered to you, as in the place next before alledged, which does not prove the traditions of the apostles, to be any more than counsells; though as is said in the th verse, "he that despiseth them, despiseth not man, but god": for our saviour himself came not to judge, that is, to be king in this world; but to sacrifice himself for sinners, and leave doctors in his church, to lead, not to drive men to christ, who never accepteth forced actions, (which is all the law produceth,) but the inward conversion of the heart; which is not the work of laws, but of counsell, and doctrine. and that of thess. . . "if any man obey not our word by this epistle, note that man, and have no company with him, that he may bee ashamed": where from the word obey, he would inferre, that this epistle was a law to the thessalonians. the epistles of the emperours were indeed laws. if therefore the epistle of s. paul were also a law, they were to obey two masters. but the word obey, as it is in the greek upakouei, signifieth hearkening to, or putting in practice, not onely that which is commanded by him that has right to punish, but also that which is delivered in a way of counsell for our good; and therefore st. paul does not bid kill him that disobeys, nor beat, nor imprison, nor amerce him, which legislators may all do; but avoid his company, that he may bee ashamed: whereby it is evident, it was not the empire of an apostle, but his reputation amongst the faithfull, which the christians stood in awe of. the last place is that of heb. . . "obey your leaders, and submit your selves to them, for they watch for your souls, as they that must give account:" and here also is intended by obedience, a following of their counsell: for the reason of our obedience, is not drawn from the will and command of our pastors, but from our own benefit, as being the salvation of our souls they watch for, and not for the exaltation of their own power, and authority. if it were meant here, that all they teach were laws, then not onely the pope, but every pastor in his parish should have legislative power. again, they that are bound to obey, their pastors, have no power to examine their commands. what then shall wee say to st. john who bids us ( epist. chap. . ver. .) "not to beleeve every spirit, but to try the spirits whether they are of god, because many false prophets are gone out into the world"? it is therefore manifest, that wee may dispute the doctrine of our pastors; but no man can dispute a law. the commands of civill soveraigns are on all sides granted to be laws: if any else can make a law besides himselfe, all common-wealth, and consequently all peace, and justice must cease; which is contrary to all laws, both divine and humane. nothing therefore can be drawn from these, or any other places of scripture, to prove the decrees of the pope, where he has not also the civill soveraignty, to be laws. the question of superiority between the pope and other bishops the last point hee would prove, is this, "that our saviour christ has committed ecclesiasticall jurisdiction immediately to none but the pope." wherein he handleth not the question of supremacy between the pope and christian kings, but between the pope and other bishops. and first, he sayes it is agreed, that the jurisdiction of bishops, is at least in the generall de jure divino, that is, in the right of god; for which he alledges s. paul, ephes. . . where hee sayes, that christ after his ascension into heaven, "gave gifts to men, some apostles, some prophets, and some evangelists, and some pastors, and some teachers:" and thence inferres, they have indeed their jurisdiction in gods right; but will not grant they have it immediately from god, but derived through the pope. but if a man may be said to have his jurisdiction de jure divino, and yet not immediately; what lawfull jurisdiction, though but civill, is there in a christian common-wealth, that is not also de jure divino? for christian kings have their civill power from god immediately; and the magistrates under him exercise their severall charges in vertue of his commission; wherein that which they doe, is no lesse de jure divino mediato, than that which the bishops doe, in vertue of the popes ordination. all lawfull power is of god, immediately in the supreme governour, and mediately in those that have authority under him: so that either hee must grant every constable in the state, to hold his office in the right of god; or he must not hold that any bishop holds his so, besides the pope himselfe. but this whole dispute, whether christ left the jurisdiction to the pope onely, or to other bishops also, if considered out of these places where the pope has the civill soveraignty, is a contention de lana caprina: for none of them (where they are not soveraigns) has any jurisdiction at all. for jurisdiction is the power of hearing and determining causes between man and man; and can belong to none, but him that hath the power to prescribe the rules of right and wrong; that is, to make laws; and with the sword of justice to compell men to obey his decisions, pronounced either by himself, or by the judges he ordaineth thereunto; which none can lawfully do, but the civill soveraign. therefore when he alledgeth out of the of luke, that our saviour called his disciples together, and chose twelve of them which he named apostles, he proveth that he elected them (all, except matthias, paul and barnabas,) and gave them power and command to preach, but not to judge of causes between man and man: for that is a power which he refused to take upon himselfe, saying, "who made me a judge, or a divider, amongst you?" and in another place, "my kingdome is not of this world." but hee that hath not the power to hear, and determine causes between man and man, cannot be said to have any jurisdiction at all. and yet this hinders not, but that our saviour gave them power to preach and baptize in all parts of the world, supposing they were not by their own lawfull soveraign forbidden: for to our own soveraigns christ himself, and his apostles have in sundry places expressely commanded us in all things to be obedient. the arguments by which he would prove, that bishops receive their jurisdiction from the pope (seeing the pope in the dominions of other princes hath no jurisdiction himself,) are all in vain. yet because they prove, on the contrary, that all bishops receive jurisdiction when they have it from their civill soveraigns, i will not omit the recitall of them. the first, is from numbers . where moses not being able alone to undergoe the whole burthen of administring the affairs of the people of israel, god commanded him to choose seventy elders, and took part of the spirit of moses, to put it upon those seventy elders: by which it is understood, not that god weakened the spirit of moses, for that had not eased him at all; but that they had all of them their authority from him; wherein he doth truly, and ingenuously interpret that place. but seeing moses had the entire soveraignty in the common-wealth of the jews, it is manifest, that it is thereby signified, that they had their authority from the civill soveraign: and therefore that place proveth, that bishops in every christian common-wealth have their authority from the civill soveraign; and from the pope in his own territories only, and not in the territories of any other state. the second argument, is from the nature of monarchy; wherein all authority is in one man, and in others by derivation from him: but the government of the church, he says, is monarchicall. this also makes for christian monarchs. for they are really monarchs of their own people; that is, of their own church (for the church is the same thing with a christian people;) whereas the power of the pope, though hee were s. peter, is neither monarchy, nor hath any thing of archicall, nor craticall, but onely of didacticall; for god accepteth not a forced, but a willing obedience. the third, is, from that the sea of s. peter is called by s. cyprian, the head, the source, the roote, the sun, from whence the authority of bishops is derived. but by the law of nature (which is a better principle of right and wrong, than the word of any doctor that is but a man) the civill soveraign in every common-wealth, is the head, the source, the root, and the sun, from which all jurisdiction is derived. and therefore, the jurisdiction of bishops, is derived from the civill soveraign. the fourth, is taken from the inequality of their jurisdictions: for if god (saith he) had given it them immediately, he had given aswell equality of jurisdiction, as of order: but wee see, some are bishops but of own town, some of a hundred towns, and some of many whole provinces; which differences were not determined by the command of god; their jurisdiction therefore is not of god, but of man; and one has a greater, another a lesse, as it pleaseth the prince of the church. which argument, if he had proved before, that the pope had had an universall jurisdiction over all christians, had been for his purpose. but seeing that hath not been proved, and that it is notoriously known, the large jurisdiction of the pope was given him by those that had it, that is, by the emperours of rome, (for the patriarch of constantinople, upon the same title, namely, of being bishop of the capitall city of the empire, and seat of the emperour, claimed to be equal to him,) it followeth, that all other bishops have their jurisdiction from the soveraigns of the place wherein they exercise the same: and as for that cause they have not their authority de jure divino; so neither hath the pope his de jure divino, except onely where hee is also the civill soveraign. his fift argument is this, "if bishops have their jurisdiction immediately from god, the pope could not take it from them, for he can doe nothing contrary to gods ordination;" and this consequence is good, and well proved. "but, (saith he) the pope can do this, and has done it." this also is granted, so he doe it in his own dominions, or in the dominions of any other prince that hath given him that power; but not universally, in right of the popedome: for that power belongeth to every christian soveraign, within the bounds of his owne empire, and is inseparable from the soveraignty. before the people of israel had (by the commandment of god to samuel) set over themselves a king, after the manner of other nations, the high priest had the civill government; and none but he could make, nor depose an inferiour priest: but that power was afterwards in the king, as may be proved by this same argument of bellarmine; for if the priest (be he the high priest or any other) had his jurisdiction immediately from god, then the king could not take it from him; "for he could do nothing contrary to gods ordinance: but it is certain, that king solomon ( kings . .) deprived abiathar the high priest of his office, and placed zadok (verse .) in his room. kings therefore may in the like manner ordaine, and deprive bishops, as they shall thinke fit, for the well governing of their subjects. his sixth argument is this, if bishops have their jurisdiction de jure divino (that is, immediately from god,) they that maintaine it, should bring some word of god to prove it: but they can bring none. the argument is good; i have therefore nothing to say against it. but it is an argument no lesse good, to prove the pope himself to have no jurisdiction in the dominion of any other prince. lastly, hee bringeth for argument, the testimony of two popes, innocent, and leo; and i doubt not but hee might have alledged, with as good reason, the testimonies of all the popes almost since s. peter: for considering the love of power naturally implanted in mankind, whosoever were made pope, he would be tempted to uphold the same opinion. neverthelesse, they should therein but doe, as innocent, and leo did, bear witnesse of themselves, and therefore their witness should not be good. of the popes temporall power in the fift book he hath four conclusions. the first is, "that the pope in not lord of all the world:" the second, "that the pope is not lord of all the christian world:" the third, "that the pope (without his owne territory) has not any temporall jurisdiction directly:" these three conclusions are easily granted. the fourth is, "that the pope has (in the dominions of other princes) the supreme temporall power indirectly:" which is denyed; unlesse he mean by indirectly, that he has gotten it by indirect means; then is that also granted. but i understand, that when he saith he hath it indirectly, he means, that such temporall jurisdiction belongeth to him of right, but that this right is but a consequence of his pastorall authority, the which he could not exercise, unlesse he have the other with it: and therefore to the pastorall power (which he calls spirituall) the supreme power civill is necessarily annexed; and that thereby hee hath a right to change kingdomes, giving them to one, and taking them from another, when he shall think it conduces to the salvation of souls. before i come to consider the arguments by which hee would prove this doctrine, it will not bee amisse to lay open the consequences of it; that princes, and states, that have the civill soveraignty in their severall common-wealths, may bethink themselves, whether it bee convenient for them, and conducing to the good of their subjects, of whom they are to give an account at the day of judgment, to admit the same. when it is said, the pope hath not (in the territories of other states) the supreme civill power directly; we are to understand, he doth not challenge it, as other civill soveraigns doe, from the originall submission thereto of those that are to be governed. for it is evident, and has already been sufficiently in this treatise demonstrated, that the right of all soveraigns, is derived originally from the consent of every one of those that are to bee governed; whether they that choose him, doe it for their common defence against an enemy, as when they agree amongst themselves to appoint a man, or an assembly of men to protect them; or whether they doe it, to save their lives, by submission to a conquering enemy. the pope therefore, when he disclaimeth the supreme civill power over other states directly, denyeth no more, but that his right cometh to him by that way; he ceaseth not for all that, to claime it another way; and that is, (without the consent of them that are to be governed) by a right given him by god, (which hee calleth indirectly,) in his assumption to the papacy. but by what way soever he pretend, the power is the same; and he may (if it bee granted to be his right) depose princes and states, as often as it is for the salvation of soules, that is, as often as he will; for he claimeth also the sole power to judge, whether it be to the salvation of mens souls, or not. and this is the doctrine, not onely that bellarmine here, and many other doctors teach in their sermons and books, but also that some councells have decreed, and the popes have decreed, and the popes have accordingly, when the occasion hath served them, put in practise. for the fourth councell of lateran held under pope innocent the third, (in the third chap. de haereticis,) hath this canon. "if a king at the popes admonition, doe not purge his kingdome of haeretiques, and being excommunicate for the same, make not satisfaction within a year, his subjects are absolved of their obedience." and the practise hereof hath been seen on divers occasions; as in the deposing of chilperique, king of france; in the translation of the roman empire to charlemaine; in the oppression of john king of england; in transferring the kingdome of navarre; and of late years, in the league against henry the third of france, and in many more occurrences. i think there be few princes that consider not this as injust, and inconvenient; but i wish they would all resolve to be kings, or subjects. men cannot serve two masters: they ought therefore to ease them, either by holding the reins of government wholly in their own hands; or by wholly delivering them into the hands of the pope; that such men as are willing to be obedient, may be protected in their obedience. for this distinction of temporall, and spirituall power is but words. power is as really divided, and as dangerously to all purposes, by sharing with another indirect power, as with a direct one. but to come now to his arguments. the first is this, "the civill power is subject to the spirituall: therefore he that hath the supreme power spirituall, hath right to command temporall princes, and dispose of their temporalls in order to the spirituall. as for the distinction of temporall, and spirituall, let us consider in what sense it may be said intelligibly, that the temporall, or civill power is subject to the spirituall. there be but two ways that those words can be made sense. for when wee say, one power is subject to another power, the meaning either is, that he which hath the one, is subject to him that hath the other; or that the one power is to the other, as the means to the end. for wee cannot understand, that one power hath power over another power; and that one power can have right or command over another: for subjection, command, right, and power are accidents, not of powers, but of persons: one power may be subordinate to another, as the art of a sadler, to the art of a rider. if then it be granted, that the civill government be ordained as a means to bring us to a spirituall felicity; yet it does not follow, that if a king have the civill power, and the pope the spirituall, that therefore the king is bound to obey the pope, more then every sadler is bound to obey every rider. therefore as from subordination of an art, cannot be inferred the subjection of the professor; so from the subordination of a government, cannot be inferred the subjection of the governor. when therefore he saith, the civill power is subject to the spirituall, his meaning is, that the civill soveraign, is subject to the spirituall soveraign. and the argument stands thus, "the civil soveraign, is subject to the spirituall; therefore the spirituall prince may command temporall princes." where the conclusion is the same, with the antecedent he should have proved. but to prove it, he alledgeth first, this reason, "kings and popes, clergy and laity make but one common-wealth; that is to say, but one church: and in all bodies the members depend one upon another: but things spirituall depend not of things temporall: therefore, temporall depend on spirituall. and therefore are subject to them." in which argumentation there be two grosse errours: one is, that all christian kings, popes, clergy, and all other christian men, make but one common-wealth: for it is evident that france is one common-wealth, spain another, and venice a third, &c. and these consist of christians; and therefore also are severall bodies of christians; that is to say, severall churches: and their severall soveraigns represent them, whereby they are capable of commanding and obeying, of doing and suffering, as a natural man; which no generall or universall church is, till it have a representant; which it hath not on earth: for if it had, there is no doubt but that all christendome were one common-wealth, whose soveraign were that representant, both in things spirituall and temporall: and the pope, to make himself this representant, wanteth three things that our saviour hath not given him, to command, and to judge, and to punish, otherwise than (by excommunication) to run from those that will not learn of him: for though the pope were christs onely vicar, yet he cannot exercise his government, till our saviours second coming: and then also it is not the pope, but st. peter himselfe, with the other apostles, that are to be judges of the world. the other errour in this his first argument is, that he sayes, the members of every common-wealth, as of a naturall body, depend one of another: it is true, they cohaere together; but they depend onely on the soveraign, which is the soul of the common-wealth; which failing, the common-wealth is dissolved into a civill war, no one man so much as cohaering to another, for want of a common dependance on a known soveraign; just as the members of the naturall body dissolve into earth, for want of a soul to hold them together. therefore there is nothing in this similitude, from whence to inferre a dependance of the laity on the clergy, or of the temporall officers on the spirituall; but of both on the civill soveraign; which ought indeed to direct his civill commands to the salvation of souls; but is not therefore subject to any but god himselfe. and thus you see the laboured fallacy of the first argument, to deceive such men as distinguish not between the subordination of actions in the way to the end; and the subjection of persons one to another in the administration of the means. for to every end, the means are determined by nature, or by god himselfe supernaturally: but the power to make men use the means, is in every nation resigned (by the law of nature, which forbiddeth men to violate their faith given) to the civill soveraign. his second argument is this, "every common-wealth, (because it is supposed to be perfect and sufficient in it self,) may command any other common-wealth, not subject to it, and force it to change the administration of the government, nay depose the prince, and set another in his room, if it cannot otherwise defend it selfe against the injuries he goes about to doe them: much more may a spirituall common-wealth command a temporall one to change the administration of their government, and may depose princes, and institute others, when they cannot otherwise defend the spirituall good." that a common-wealth, to defend it selfe against injuries, may lawfully doe all that he hath here said, is very true; and hath already in that which hath gone before been sufficiently demonstrated. and if it were also true, that there is now in this world a spirituall common-wealth, distinct from a civill common-wealth, then might the prince thereof, upon injury done him, or upon want of caution that injury be not done him in time to come, repaire, and secure himself by warre; which is in summe, deposing, killing, or subduing, or doing any act of hostility. but by the same reason, it would be no lesse lawfull for a civill soveraign, upon the like injuries done, or feared, to make warre upon the spirituall soveraign; which i beleeve is more than cardinall bellarmine would have inferred from his own proposition. but spirituall common-wealth there is none in this world: for it is the same thing with the kingdome of christ; which he himselfe saith, is not of this world; but shall be in the next world, at the resurrection, when they that have lived justly, and beleeved that he was the christ, shall (though they died naturall bodies) rise spirituall bodies; and then it is, that our saviour shall judge the world, and conquer his adversaries, and make a spirituall common-wealth. in the mean time, seeing there are no men on earth, whose bodies are spirituall; there can be no spirituall common-wealth amongst men that are yet in the flesh; unlesse wee call preachers, that have commission to teach, and prepare men for their reception into the kingdome of christ at the resurrection, a common-wealth; which i have proved to bee none. the third argument is this; "it is not lawfull for christians to tolerate an infidel, or haereticall king, in case he endeavour to draw them to his haeresie, or infidelity. but to judge whether a king draw his subjects to haeresie, or not, belongeth to the pope. therefore hath the pope right, to determine whether the prince be to be deposed, or not deposed." to this i answer, that both these assertions are false. for christians, (or men of what religion soever,) if they tolerate not their king, whatsoever law hee maketh, though it bee concerning religion, doe violate their faith, contrary to the divine law, both naturall and positive: nor is there any judge of haeresie amongst subjects, but their own civill soveraign; for "haeresie is nothing else, but a private opinion, obstinately maintained, contrary to the opinion which the publique person (that is to say, the representant of the common-wealth) hath commanded to bee taught." by which it is manifest, that an opinion publiquely appointed to bee taught, cannot be haeresie; nor the soveraign princes that authorize them, haeretiques. for haeretiques are none but private men, that stubbornly defend some doctrine, prohibited by their lawful soveraigns. but to prove that christians are not to tolerate infidell, or haereticall kings, he alledgeth a place in deut. . where god forbiddeth the jews, when they shall set a king over themselves, to choose a stranger; and from thence inferreth, that it is unlawfull for a christian, to choose a king, that is not a christian. and 'tis true, that he that is a christian, that is, hee that hath already obliged himself to receive our saviour when he shall come, for his king, shal tempt god too much in choosing for king in this world, one that hee knoweth will endeavour, both by terrour, and perswasion to make him violate his faith. but, it is (saith hee) the same danger, to choose one that is not a christian, for king, and not to depose him, when hee is chosen. to this i say, the question is not of the danger of not deposing; but of the justice of deposing him. to choose him, may in some cases bee unjust; but to depose him, when he is chosen, is in no case just. for it is alwaies violation of faith, and consequently against the law of nature, which is the eternal law of god. nor doe wee read, that any such doctrine was accounted christian in the time of the apostles; nor in the time of the romane emperours, till the popes had the civill soveraignty of rome. but to this he hath replyed, that the christians of old, deposed not nero, nor diocletian, nor julian, nor valens an arrian, for this cause onely, that they wanted temporall forces. perhaps so. but did our saviour, who for calling for, might have had twelve legions of immortall, invulnerable angels to assist him, want forces to depose caesar, or at least pilate, that unjustly, without finding fault in him, delivered him to the jews to bee crucified? or if the apostles wanted temporall forces to depose nero, was it therefore necessary for them in their epistles to the new made christians, to teach them, (as they did) to obey the powers constituted over them, (whereof nero in that time was one,) and that they ought to obey them, not for fear of their wrath, but for conscience sake? shall we say they did not onely obey, but also teach what they meant not, for want of strength? it is not therefore for want of strength, but for conscience sake, that christians are to tolerate their heathen princes, or princes (for i cannot call any one whose doctrine is the publique doctrine, an haeretique) that authorize the teaching of an errour. and whereas for the temporall power of the pope, he alledgeth further, that st. paul ( cor. .) appointed judges under the heathen princes of those times, such as were not ordained by those princes; it is not true. for st. paul does but advise them, to take some of their brethren to compound their differences, as arbitrators, rather than to goe to law one with another before the heathen judges; which is a wholsome precept, and full of charity, fit to bee practised also in the best christian common-wealths. and for the danger that may arise to religion, by the subjects tolerating of an heathen, or an erring prince, it is a point, of which a subject is no competent judge; or if hee bee, the popes temporall subjects may judge also of the popes doctrine. for every christian prince, as i have formerly proved, is no lesse supreme pastor of his own subjects, than the pope of his. the fourth argument, is taken from the baptisme of kings; wherein, that they may be made christians they submit their scepters to christ; and promise to keep, and defend the christian faith. this is true; for christian kings are no more but christs subjects: but they may, for all that, bee the popes fellowes; for they are supreme pastors of their own subjects; and the pope is no more but king, and pastor, even in rome it selfe. the fifth argument, is drawn from the words spoken by our saviour, feed my sheep; by which was give all power necessary for a pastor; as the power to chase away wolves, such as are haeretiques; the power to shut up rammes, if they be mad, or push at the other sheep with their hornes, such as are evill (though christian) kings; and power to give the flock convenient food: from whence hee inferreth, that st. peter had these three powers given him by christ. to which i answer, that the last of these powers, is no more than the power, or rather command to teach. for the first, which is to chase away wolves, that is, haeretiques, the place hee quoteth is (matth. . .) "beware of false prophets which come to you in sheeps clothing, but inwardly are ravening wolves." but neither are haeretiques false prophets, or at all prophets: nor (admitting haeretiques for the wolves there meant,) were the apostles commanded to kill them, or if they were kings, to depose them; but to beware of, fly, and avoid them: nor was it to st. peter, nor to any of the apostles, but to the multitude of the jews that followed him into the mountain, men for the most part not yet converted, that hee gave this counsell, to beware of false prophets: which therefore if it conferre a power of chasing away kings, was given, not onely to private men; but to men that were not at all christians. and as to the power of separating, and shutting up of furious rammes, (by which hee meaneth christian kings that refuse to submit themselves to the roman pastor,) our saviour refused to take upon him that power in this world himself, but advised to let the corn and tares grow up together till the day of judgment: much lesse did hee give it to st. peter, or can s. peter give it to the popes. st. peter, and all other pastors, are bidden to esteem those christians that disobey the church, that is, (that disobey the christian soveraigne) as heathen men, and as publicans. seeing then men challenge to the pope no authority over heathen princes, they ought to challenge none over those that are to bee esteemed as heathen. but from the power to teach onely, hee inferreth also a coercive power in the pope, over kings. the pastor (saith he) must give his flock convenient food: therefore the pope may, and ought to compell kings to doe their duty. out of which it followeth, that the pope, as pastor of christian men, is king of kings: which all christian kings ought indeed either to confesse, or else they ought to take upon themselves the supreme pastorall charge, every one in his own dominion. his sixth, and last argument, is from examples. to which i answer, first, that examples prove nothing; secondly, that the examples he alledgeth make not so much as a probability of right. the fact of jehoiada, in killing athaliah ( kings .) was either by the authority of king joash, or it was a horrible crime in the high priest, which (ever after the election of king saul) was a mere subject. the fact of st. ambrose, in excommunicating theodosius the emperour, (if it were true hee did so,) was a capitall crime. and for the popes, gregory . greg. . zachary, and leo . their judgments are void, as given in their own cause; and the acts done by them conformably to this doctrine, are the greatest crimes (especially that of zachary) that are incident to humane nature. and thus much of power ecclesiasticall; wherein i had been more briefe, forbearing to examine these arguments of bellarmine, if they had been his, as a private man, and not as the champion of the papacy, against all other christian princes, and states. chapter xliii. of what is necessary for a mans reception into the kingdome of heaven. the difficulty of obeying god and man both at once the most frequent praetext of sedition, and civill warre, in christian common-wealths hath a long time proceeded from a difficulty, not yet sufficiently resolved, of obeying at once, both god, and man, then when their commandements are one contrary to the other. it is manifest enough, that when a man receiveth two contrary commands, and knows that one of them is gods, he ought to obey that, and not the other, though it be the command even of his lawfull soveraign (whether a monarch, or a soveraign assembly,) or the command of his father. the difficulty therefore consisteth in this, that men when they are commanded in the name of god, know not in divers cases, whether the command be from god, or whether he that commandeth, doe but abuse gods name for some private ends of his own. for as there ware in the church of the jews, many false prophets, that sought reputation with the people, by feigned dreams, and visions; so there have been in all times in the church of christ, false teachers, that seek reputation with the people, by phantasticall and false doctrines; and by such reputation (as is the nature of ambition,) to govern them for their private benefit. is none to them that distinguish between what is, and what is not necessary to salvation but this difficulty of obeying both god, and the civill soveraign on earth, to those that can distinguish between what is necessary, and what is not necessary for their reception into the kingdome of god, is of no moment. for if the command of the civill soveraign bee such, as that it may be obeyed, without the forfeiture of life eternall; not to obey it is unjust; and the precept of the apostle takes place; "servants obey your masters in all things;" and, "children obey your parents in all things;" and the precept of our saviour, "the scribes and pharisees sit in moses chaire, all therefore they shall say, that observe, and doe." but if the command be such, as cannot be obeyed, without being damned to eternall death, then it were madnesse to obey it, and the counsell of our saviour takes place, (mat. . .) "fear not those that kill the body, but cannot kill the soule." all men therefore that would avoid, both the punishments that are to be in this world inflicted, for disobedience to their earthly soveraign, and those that shall be inflicted in the world to come for disobedience to god, have need be taught to distinguish well between what is, and what is not necessary to eternall salvation. all that is necessary to salvation is contained in faith and obedience all that is necessary to salvation, is contained in two vertues, faith in christ, and obedience to laws. the latter of these, if it were perfect, were enough to us. but because wee are all guilty of disobedience to gods law, not onely originally in adam, but also actually by our own transgressions, there is required at our hands now, not onely obedience for the rest of our time, but also a remission of sins for the time past; which remission is the reward of our faith in christ. that nothing else is necessarily required to salvation, is manifest from this, that the kingdome of heaven, is shut to none but to sinners; that is to say, to the disobedient, or transgressors of the law; nor to them, in case they repent, and beleeve all the articles of christian faith, necessary to salvation. what obedience is necessary; the obedience required at our hands by god, that accepteth in all our actions the will for the deed, is a serious endeavour to obey him; and is called also by all such names as signifie that endeavour. and therefore obedience, is sometimes called by the names of charity, and love, because they imply a will to obey; and our saviour himself maketh our love to god, and to one another, a fulfilling of the whole law: and sometimes by the name of righteousnesse; for righteousnesse is but the will to give to every one his owne, that is to say, the will to obey the laws: and sometimes by the name of repentance; because to repent, implyeth a turning away from sinne, which is the same, with the return of the will to obedience. whosoever therefore unfeignedly desireth to fulfill the commandements of god, or repenteth him truely of his transgressions, or that loveth god with all his heart, and his neighbor as himself, hath all the obedience necessary to his reception into the kingdome of god: for if god should require perfect innocence, there could no flesh be saved. and to what laws but what commandements are those that god hath given us? are all those laws which were given to the jews by the hand of moses, the commandements of god? if they bee, why are not christians taught to obey them? if they be not, what others are so, besides the law of nature? for our saviour christ hath not given us new laws, but counsell to observe those wee are subject to; that is to say, the laws of nature, and the laws of our severall soveraigns: nor did he make any new law to the jews in his sermon on the mount, but onely expounded the laws of moses, to which they were subject before. the laws of god therefore are none but the laws of nature, whereof the principall is, that we should not violate our faith, that is, a commandement to obey our civill soveraigns, which wee constituted over us, by mutuall pact one with another. and this law of god, that commandeth obedience to the law civill, commandeth by consequence obedience to all the precepts of the bible, which (as i have proved in the precedent chapter) is there onely law, where the civill soveraign hath made it so; and in other places but counsell; which a man at his own perill, may without injustice refuse to obey. in the faith of a christian, who is the person beleeved knowing now what is the obedience necessary to salvation, and to whom it is due; we are to consider next concerning faith, whom, and why we beleeve; and what are the articles, or points necessarily to be beleeved by them that shall be saved. and first, for the person whom we beleeve, because it is impossible to beleeve any person, before we know what he saith, it is necessary he be one that wee have heard speak. the person therefore, whom abraham, isaac, jacob, moses and the prophets beleeved, was god himself, that spake unto them supernaturally: and the person, whom the apostles and disciples that conversed with christ beleeved, was our saviour himself. but of them, to whom neither god the father, nor our saviour ever spake, it cannot be said, that the person whom they beleeved, was god. they beleeved the apostles, and after them the pastors and doctors of the church, that recommended to their faith the history of the old and new testament: so that the faith of christians ever since our saviours time, hath had for foundation, first, the reputation of their pastors, and afterward, the authority of those that made the old and new testament to be received for the rule of faith; which none could do but christian soveraignes; who are therefore the supreme pastors, and the onely persons, whom christians now hear speak from god; except such as god speaketh to, in these days supernaturally. but because there be many false prophets "gone out into the world," other men are to examine such spirits (as st. john advised us, epistle, chap. . ver. .) "whether they be of god, or not." and therefore, seeing the examination of doctrines belongeth to the supreme pastor, the person which all they that have no speciall revelation are to beleeve, is (in every common-wealth) the supreme pastor, that is to say, the civill soveraigne. the causes of christian faith the causes why men beleeve any christian doctrine, are various; for faith is the gift of god; and he worketh it in each severall man, by such wayes, as it seemeth good unto himself. the most ordinary immediate cause of our beleef, concerning any point of christian faith, is, that wee beleeve the bible to be the word of god. but why wee beleeve the bible to be the word of god, is much disputed, as all questions must needs bee, that are not well stated. for they make not the question to be, "why we beleeve it," but "how wee know it;" as if beleeving and knowing were all one. and thence while one side ground their knowledge upon the infallibility of the church, and the other side, on the testimony of the private spirit, neither side concludeth what it pretends. for how shall a man know the infallibility of the church, but by knowing first the infallibility of the scripture? or how shall a man know his own private spirit to be other than a beleef, grounded upon the authority, and arguments of his teachers; or upon a presumption of his own gifts? besides, there is nothing in the scripture, from which can be inferred the infallibility of the church; much lesse, of any particular church; and least of all, the infallibility of any particular man. faith comes by hearing it is manifest, therefore, that christian men doe not know, but onely beleeve the scripture to be the word of god; and that the means of making them beleeve which god is pleased to afford men ordinarily, is according to the way of nature, that is to say, from their teachers. it is the doctrine of st. paul concerning christian faith in generall, (rom. . .) "faith cometh by hearing," that is, by hearing our lawfull pastors. he saith also (ver. , . of the same chapter) "how shall they beleeve in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher? and how shall they preach, except they be sent?" whereby it is evident, that the ordinary cause of beleeving that the scriptures are the word of god, is the same with the cause of the beleeving of all other articles of our faith, namely, the hearing of those that are by the law allowed and appointed to teach us, as our parents in their houses, and our pastors in the churches: which also is made more manifest by experience. for what other cause can there bee assigned, why in christian common-wealths all men either beleeve, or at least professe the scripture to bee the word of god, and in other common-wealths scarce any; but that in christian common-wealths they are taught it from their infancy; and in other places they are taught otherwise? but if teaching be the cause of faith, why doe not all beleeve? it is certain therefore that faith is the gift of god, and hee giveth it to whom he will. neverthelesse, because of them to whom he giveth it, he giveth it by the means of teachers, the immediate cause of faith is hearing. in a school where many are taught, and some profit, others profit not, the cause of learning in them that profit, is the master; yet it cannot be thence inferred, that learning is not the gift of god. all good things proceed from god; yet cannot all that have them, say they are inspired; for that implies a gift supernaturall, and the immediate hand of god; which he that pretends to, pretends to be a prophet, and is subject to the examination of the church. but whether men know, or beleeve, or grant the scriptures to be the word of god; if out of such places of them, as are without obscurity, i shall shew what articles of faith are necessary, and onely necessary for salvation, those men must needs know, beleeve, or grant the same. the onely necessary article of christian faith, the (unum necessarium) onely article of faith, which the scripture maketh simply necessary to salvation, is this, that jesus is the christ. by the name of christ, is understood the king, which god had before promised by the prophets of the old testament, to send into the world, to reign (over the jews, and over such of other nations as should beleeve in him) under himself eternally; and to give them that eternall life, which was lost by the sin of adam. which when i have proved out of scripture, i will further shew when, and in what sense some other articles may bee also called necessary. proved from the scope of the evangelists for proof that the beleef of this article, jesus is the christ, is all the faith required to salvation, my first argument shall bee from the scope of the evangelists; which was by the description of the life of our saviour, to establish that one article, jesus is the christ. the summe of st. matthews gospell is this, that jesus was of the stock of david; born of a virgin; which are the marks of the true christ: that the magi came to worship him as king of the jews: that herod for the same cause sought to kill him: that john baptist proclaimed him: that he preached by himselfe, and his apostles that he was that king; that he taught the law, not as a scribe, but as a man of authority: that he cured diseases by his word onely, and did many other miracles, which were foretold the christ should doe: that he was saluted king when he entered into jerusalem: that he fore-warned them to beware of all others that should pretend to be christ: that he was taken, accused, and put to death, for saying, hee was king: that the cause of his condemnation written on the crosse, was jesus of nazareth, the king of the jewes. all which tend to no other end than this, that men should beleeve, that jesus is the christ. such therefore was the scope of st. matthews gospel. but the scope of all the evangelists (as may appear by reading them) was the same. therefore the scope of the whole gospell, was the establishing of that onely article. and st. john expressely makes it his conclusion, john . . "these things are written, that you may know that jesus is the christ, the son of the living god." from the sermons of the apostles: my second argument is taken from the subject of the sermons of the apostles, both whilest our saviour lived on earth, and after his ascension. the apostles in our saviours time were sent, luke . . to preach the kingdome of god: for neither there, nor mat. . . giveth he any commission to them, other than this, "as ye go, preach, saying, the kingdome of heaven is at hand;" that is, that jesus is the messiah, the christ, the king which was to come. that their preaching also after his ascension was the same, is manifest out of acts . . "they drew (saith st. luke) jason and certain brethren unto the rulers of the city, crying, these that have turned the world upside down are come hither also, whom jason hath received. and these all do contrary to the decrees of caesar, saying, that there is another king, one jesus:" and out of the .& . verses of the same chapter, where it is said, that st. paul "as his manner was, went in unto them; and three sabbath dayes reasoned with them out of the scriptures; opening and alledging, that christ must needs have suffered, and risen againe from the dead, and that this jesus (whom he preached) is christ." from the easinesse of the doctrine: the third argument is, from those places of scripture, by which all the faith required to salvation is declared to be easie. for if an inward assent of the mind to all the doctrines concerning christian faith now taught, (whereof the greatest part are disputed,) were necessary to salvation, there would be nothing in the world so hard, as to be a christian. the thief upon the crosse though repenting, could not have been saved for saying, "lord remember me when thou commest into thy kingdome;" by which he testified no beleefe of any other article, but this, that jesus was the king. nor could it bee said (as it is mat. . .) that "christs yoke is easy, and his burthen light:" nor that "little children beleeve in him," as it is matth. . . nor could st. paul have said ( cor. . .) "it pleased god by the foolishnesse of preaching, to save them that beleeve:" nor could st. paul himself have been saved, much lesse have been so great a doctor of the church so suddenly, that never perhaps thought of transsubstantiation, nor purgatory, nor many other articles now obtruded. from formall and cleer texts the fourth argument is taken from places expresse, and such as receive no controversie of interpretation; as first, john . . "search the scriptures, for in them yee thinke yee have eternall life; and they are they that testifie of mee." our saviour here speaketh of the scriptures onely of the old testament; for the jews at that time could not search the scriptures of the new testament, which were not written. but the old testament hath nothing of christ, but the markes by which men might know him when hee came; as that he should descend from david, be born at bethlehem, and of a virgin; doe great miracles, and the like. therefore to beleeve that this jesus was he, was sufficient to eternall life: but more than sufficient is not necessary; and consequently no other article is required. again, (john . .) "whosoever liveth and beleeveth in mee, shall not die eternally," therefore to beleeve in christ, is faith sufficient to eternall life; and consequently no more faith than that is necessary, but to beleeve in jesus, and to beleeve that jesus is the christ, is all one, as appeareth in the verses immediately following. for when our saviour (verse .) had said to martha, "beleevest thou this?" she answereth (verse .) "yea lord, i beleeve that thou art the christ, the son of god, which should come into the world;" therefore this article alone is faith sufficient to life eternall; and more than sufficient is not necessary. thirdly, john . . "these things are written that yee might beleeve, that jesus is the christ, the son of god, and that beleeving yee might have life through his name." there, to beleeve that jesus is the christ, is faith sufficient to the obtaining of life; and therefore no other article is necessary. fourthly, john . . "every spirit that confesseth that jesus christ is come in the flesh, is of god." and joh. . . "whosoever beleeveth that jesus is the christ, is born of god." and verse . "who is hee that overcommeth the world, but he that beleeveth that jesus is the son of god?" fiftly, act. . ver. , . "see (saith the eunuch) here is water, what doth hinder me to be baptized? and philip said, if thou beleevest with all thy heart thou mayst. and hee answered and said, i beleeve that jesus christ is the son of god." therefore this article beleeved, jesus is the christ, is sufficient to baptisme, that is to say, to our reception into the kingdome of god, and by consequence, onely necessary. and generally in all places where our saviour saith to any man, "thy faith hath saved thee," the cause he saith it, is some confession, which directly, or by consequence, implyeth a beleef, that jesus is the christ. from that it is the foundation of all other articles the last argument is from the places, where this article is made the foundation of faith: for he that holdeth the foundation shall bee saved. which places are first, mat. . . "if any man shall say unto you, loe, here is christ, or there, beleeve it not, for there shall arise false christs, and false prophets, and shall shew great signes and wonders, &c." here wee see, this article jesus is the christ, must bee held, though hee that shall teach the contrary should doe great miracles. the second place is gal. . . "though we, or an angell from heaven preach any other gospell unto you, than that wee have preached unto you, let him bee accursed." but the gospell which paul, and the other apostles, preached, was onely this article, that jesus is the christ; therefore for the beleef of this article, we are to reject the authority of an angell from heaven; much more of any mortall man, if he teach the contrary. this is therefore the fundamentall article of christian faith. a third place is, joh. . . "beloved, beleeve not every spirit. hereby yee shall know the spirit of god; every spirit that confesseth that jesus christ is come in the flesh, is of god." by which it is evident, that this article, is the measure, and rule, by which to estimate, and examine all other articles; and is therefore onely fundamentall. a fourth is, matt. . . where after st. peter had professed this article, saying to our saviour, "thou art christ the son of the living god," our saviour answered, "thou art peter, and upon this rock i will build my church:" from whence i inferre, that this article is that, on which all other doctrines of the church are built, as on their foundation. a fift is ( cor. . ver. , , &c.) "other foundation can no man lay, than that which is laid, jesus is the christ. now if any man build upon this foundation, gold, silver, pretious stones, wood, hay, stubble; every mans work shall be made manifest; for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire, and the fire shall try every mans work, of what sort it is. if any mans work abide, which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward: if any mans work shall bee burnt, he shall suffer losse; but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire." which words, being partly plain and easie to understand, and partly allegoricall and difficult; out of that which is plain, may be inferred, that pastors that teach this foundation, that jesus is the christ, though they draw from it false consequences, (which all men are sometimes subject to,) they may neverthelesse bee saved; much more that they may bee saved, who being no pastors, but hearers, beleeve that which is by their lawfull pastors taught them. therefore the beleef of this article is sufficient; and by consequence there is no other article of faith necessarily required to salvation. now for the part which is allegoricall, as "that the fire shall try every mans work," and that "they shall be saved, but so as by fire," or "through fire," (for the originall is dia puros,) it maketh nothing against this conclusion which i have drawn from the other words, that are plain. neverthelesse, because upon this place there hath been an argument taken, to prove the fire of purgatory, i will also here offer you my conjecture concerning the meaning of this triall of doctrines, and saving of men as by fire. the apostle here seemeth to allude to the words of the prophet zachary, ch. . , . who speaking of the restauration of the kingdome of god, saith thus, "two parts therein shall be cut off, and die, but the third shall be left therein; and i will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tryed; they shall call on the name of the lord, and i will hear them." the day of judgment, is the day of the restauration of the kingdome of god; and at that day it is, that st. peter tells us ( pet. . v. , , .) shall be the conflagration of the world, wherein the wicked shall perish; but the remnant which god will save, shall passe through that fire, unhurt, and be therein (as silver and gold are refined by the fire from their drosse) tryed, and refined from their idolatry, and be made to call upon the name of the true god. alluding whereto st. paul here saith, that the day (that is, the day of judgment, the great day of our saviours comming to restore the kingdome of god in israel) shall try every mans doctrine, by judging, which are gold, silver, pretious stones, wood, hay, stubble; and then they that have built false consequences on the true foundation, shall see their doctrines condemned; neverthelesse they themselves shall be saved, and passe unhurt through this universall fire, and live eternally, to call upon the name of the true and onely god. in which sense there is nothing that accordeth not with the rest of holy scripture, or any glimpse of the fire of purgatory. in what sense other articles may be called necessary but a man may here aske, whether it bee not as necessary to salvation, to beleeve, that god is omnipotent; creator of the world; that jesus christ is risen; and that all men else shall rise again from the dead at the last day; as to beleeve, that jesus is the christ. to which i answer, they are; and so are many more articles: but they are such, as are contained in this one, and may be deduced from it, with more, or lesse difficulty. for who is there that does not see, that they who beleeve jesus to be the son of the god of israel, and that the israelites had for god the omnipotent creator of all things, doe therein also beleeve, that god is the omnipotent creator of all things? or how can a man beleeve, that jesus is the king that shall reign eternally, unlesse hee beleeve him also risen again from the dead? for a dead man cannot exercise the office of a king. in summe, he that holdeth this foundation, jesus is the christ, holdeth expressely all that hee seeth rightly deduced from it, and implicitely all that is consequent thereunto, though he have not skill enough to discern the consequence. and therefore it holdeth still good, that the beleef of this one article is sufficient faith to obtaine remission of sinnes to the penitent, and consequently to bring them into the kingdome of heaven. that faith, and obedience are both of them necessary to salvation now that i have shewn, that all the obedience required to salvation, consisteth in the will to obey the law of god, that is to say, in repentance; and all the faith required to the same, is comprehended in the beleef of this article, jesus is the christ; i will further alledge those places of the gospell, that prove, that all that is necessary to salvation is contained in both these joined together. the men to whom st. peter preached on the day of pentecost, next after the ascension of our saviour, asked him, and the rest of the apostles, saying, (act. . .) "men and brethren what shall we doe?" to whom st. peter answered (in the next verse) "repent, and be baptized every one of you, for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the holy ghost." therefore repentance, and baptisme, that is, beleeving that jesus is the christ, is all that is necessary to salvation. again, our saviour being asked by a certain ruler, (luke . .) "what shall i doe to inherit eternall life?" answered (verse ) "thou knowest the commandements, doe not commit adultery, doe not kill, doe not steal, doe not bear false witnesse, honor thy father, and thy mother;" which when he said he had observed, our saviour added, "sell all thou hast, give it to the poor, and come and follow me:" which was as much as to say, relye on me that am the king: therefore to fulfill the law, and to beleeve that jesus is the king, is all that is required to bring a man to eternall life. thirdly, st. paul saith (rom. . .) "the just shall live by faith;" not every one, but the just; therefore faith and justice (that is, the will to be just, or repentance) are all that is necessary to life eternall. and (mark . .) our saviour preached, saying, "the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of god is at hand, repent and beleeve the evangile," that is, the good news that the christ was come. therefore to repent, and to beleeve that jesus is the christ, is all that is required to salvation. what each of them contributes thereunto seeing then it is necessary that faith, and obedience (implyed in the word repentance) do both concurre to our salvation; the question by which of the two we are justified, is impertinently disputed. neverthelesse, it will not be impertinent, to make manifest in what manner each of them contributes thereunto; and in what sense it is said, that we are to be justified by the one, and by the other. and first, if by righteousnesse be understood the justice of the works themselves, there is no man that can be saved; for there is none that hath not transgressed the law of god. and therefore when wee are said to be justified by works, it is to be understood of the will, which god doth alwaies accept for the work it selfe, as well in good, as in evill men. and in this sense onely it is, that a man is called just, or unjust; and that his justice justifies him, that is, gives him the title, in gods acceptation, of just; and renders him capable of living by his faith, which before he was not. so that justice justifies in that that sense, in which to justifie, is the same that to denominate a man just; and not in the signification of discharging the law; whereby the punishment of his sins should be unjust. but a man is then also said to be justified, when his plea, though in it selfe unsufficient, is accepted; as when we plead our will, our endeavour to fulfill the law, and repent us of our failings, and god accepteth it for the performance it selfe: and because god accepteth not the will for the deed, but onely in the faithfull; it is therefore faith that makes good our plea; and in this sense it is, that faith onely justifies: so that faith and obedience are both necessary to salvation; yet in severall senses each of them is said to justifie. obedience to god and to the civill soveraign not inconsistent whether christian, having thus shewn what is necessary to salvation; it is not hard to reconcile our obedience to the civill soveraign; who is either christian, or infidel. if he bee a christian, he alloweth the beleefe of this article, that jesus is the christ; and of all the articles that are contained in, or are evident consequence deduced from it: which is all the faith necessary to salvation. and because he is a soveraign, he requireth obedience to all his owne, that is, to all the civill laws; in which also are contained all the laws of nature, that is, all the laws of god: for besides the laws of nature, and the laws of the church, which are part of the civill law, (for the church that can make laws is the common-wealth,) there bee no other laws divine. whosoever therefore obeyeth his christian soveraign, is not thereby hindred, neither from beleeving, nor from obeying god. but suppose that a christian king should from this foundation, jesus is the christ, draw some false consequences, that is to say, make some superstructions of hay, or stubble, and command the teaching of the same; yet seeing st. paul says, he shal be saved; much more shall he be saved, that teacheth them by his command; and much more yet, he that teaches not, but onely beleeves his lawfull teacher. and in case a subject be forbidden by the civill soveraign to professe some of those his opinions, upon what grounds can he disobey? christian kings may erre in deducing a consequence, but who shall judge? shall a private man judge, when the question is of his own obedience? or shall any man judg but he that is appointed thereto by the church, that is, by the civill soveraign that representeth it? or if the pope, or an apostle judge, may he not erre in deducing of a consequence? did not one of the two, st. peter, or st. paul erre in a superstructure, when st. paul withstood st. peter to his face? there can therefore be no contradiction between the laws of god, and the laws of a christian common-wealth. or infidel and when the civill soveraign is an infidel, every one of his own subjects that resisteth him, sinneth against the laws of god (for such as are the laws of nature,) and rejecteth the counsell of the apostles, that admonisheth all christians to obey their princes, and all children and servants to obey they parents, and masters, in all things. and for their faith, it is internall, and invisible; they have the licence that naaman had, and need not put themselves into danger for it. but if they do, they ought to expect their reward in heaven, and not complain of their lawfull soveraign; much lesse make warre upon him. for he that is not glad of any just occasion of martyrdome, has not the faith be professeth, but pretends it onely, to set some colour upon his own contumacy. but what infidel king is so unreasonable, as knowing he has a subject, that waiteth for the second comming of christ, after the present world shall be burnt, and intendeth then to obey him (which is the intent of beleeving that jesus is the christ,) and in the mean time thinketh himself bound to obey the laws of that infidel king, (which all christians are obliged in conscience to doe,) to put to death, or to persecute such a subject? and thus much shall suffice, concerning the kingdome of god, and policy ecclesiasticall. wherein i pretend not to advance any position of my own, but onely to shew what are the consequences that seem to me deducible from the principles of christian politiques, (which are the holy scriptures,) in confirmation of the power of civill soveraigns, and the duty of their subjects. and in the allegation of scripture, i have endeavoured to avoid such texts as are of obscure, or controverted interpretation; and to alledge none, but is such sense as is most plain, and agreeable to the harmony and scope of the whole bible; which was written for the re-establishment of the kingdome of god in christ. for it is not the bare words, but the scope of the writer that giveth the true light, by which any writing is to bee interpreted; and they that insist upon single texts, without considering the main designe, can derive no thing from them cleerly; but rather by casting atomes of scripture, as dust before mens eyes, make every thing more obscure than it is; an ordinary artifice of those that seek not the truth, but their own advantage. chapter xliv. of spirituall darknesse from misinterpretation of scripture the kingdome of darknesse what besides these soveraign powers, divine, and humane, of which i have hitherto discoursed, there is mention in scripture of another power, namely, (eph. . .), that of "the rulers of the darknesse of this world," (mat. . .), "the kingdome of satan," and, (mat. . .), "the principality of beelzebub over daemons," that is to say, over phantasmes that appear in the air: for which cause satan is also called (eph. . .) "the prince of the power of the air;" and (because he ruleth in the darknesse of this world) (joh. . .) "the prince of this world;" and in consequence hereunto, they who are under his dominion, in opposition to the faithfull (who are the children of the light) are called the children of darknesse. for seeing beelzebub is prince of phantasmes, inhabitants of his dominion of air and darknesse, the children of darknesse, and these daemons, phantasmes, or spirits of illusion, signifie allegorically the same thing. this considered, the kingdome of darknesse, as it is set forth in these, and other places of the scripture, is nothing else but a "confederacy of deceivers, that to obtain dominion over men in this present world, endeavour by dark, and erroneous doctrines, to extinguish in them the light, both of nature, and of the gospell; and so to dis-prepare them for the kingdome of god to come." the church not yet fully freed of darknesse as men that are utterly deprived from their nativity, of the light of the bodily eye, have no idea at all, of any such light; and no man conceives in his imagination any greater light, than he hath at some time, or other perceived by his outward senses: so also is it of the light of the gospel, and of the light of the understanding, that no man can conceive there is any greater degree of it, than that which he hath already attained unto. and from hence it comes to passe, that men have no other means to acknowledge their owne darknesse, but onely by reasoning from the un-forseen mischances, that befall them in their ways; the darkest part of the kingdome of satan, is that which is without the church of god; that is to say, amongst them that beleeve not in jesus christ. but we cannot say, that therefore the church enjoyeth (as the land of goshen) all the light, which to the performance of the work enjoined us by god, is necessary. whence comes it, that in christendome there has been, almost from the time of the apostles, such justling of one another out of their places, both by forraign, and civill war? such stumbling at every little asperity of their own fortune, and every little eminence of that of other men? and such diversity of ways in running to the same mark, felicity, if it be not night amongst us, or at least a mist? wee are therefore yet in the dark. four causes of spirituall darknesse the enemy has been here in the night of our naturall ignorance, and sown the tares of spirituall errors; and that, first, by abusing, and putting out the light of the scriptures: for we erre, not knowing the scriptures. secondly, by introducing the daemonology of the heathen poets, that is to say, their fabulous doctrine concerning daemons, which are but idols, or phantasms of the braine, without any reall nature of their own, distinct from humane fancy; such as are dead mens ghosts, and fairies, and other matter of old wives tales. thirdly, by mixing with the scripture divers reliques of the religion, and much of the vain and erroneous philosophy of the greeks, especially of aristotle. fourthly, by mingling with both these, false, or uncertain traditions, and fained, or uncertain history. and so we come to erre, by "giving heed to seducing spirits," and the daemonology of such "as speak lies in hypocrisie," (or as it is in the originall, tim. . , . "of those that play the part of lyars") "with a seared conscience," that is, contrary to their own knowledge. concerning the first of these, which is the seducing of men by abuse of scripture, i intend to speak briefly in this chapter. errors from misinterpreting the scriptures, concerning the kingdome of god the greatest, and main abuse of scripture, and to which almost all the rest are either consequent, or subservient, is the wresting of it, to prove that the kingdome of god, mentioned so often in the scripture, is the present church, or multitude of christian men now living, or that being dead, are to rise again at the last day: whereas the kingdome of god was first instituted by the ministery of moses, over the jews onely; who were therefore called his peculiar people; and ceased afterward, in the election of saul, when they refused to be governed by god any more, and demanded a king after the manner of the nations; which god himself consented unto, as i have more at large proved before, in the . chapter. after that time, there was no other kingdome of god in the world, by any pact, or otherwise, than he ever was, is, and shall be king, of all men, and of all creatures, as governing according to his will, by his infinite power. neverthelesse, he promised by his prophets to restore this his government to them again, when the time he hath in his secret counsell appointed for it shall bee fully come, and when they shall turn unto him by repentance, and amendment of life; and not onely so, but he invited also the gentiles to come in, and enjoy the happinesse of his reign, on the same conditions of conversion and repentance; and hee promised also to send his son into the world, to expiate the sins of them all by his death, and to prepare them by his doctrine, to receive him at his second coming: which second coming not yet being, the kingdome of god is not yet come, and wee are not now under any other kings by pact, but our civill soveraigns; saving onely, that christian men are already in the kingdome of grace, in as much as they have already the promise of being received at his comming againe. as that the kingdome of god is the present church consequent to this errour, that the present church is christs kingdome, there ought to be some one man, or assembly, by whose mouth our saviour (now in heaven) speaketh, giveth law, and which representeth his person to all christians, or divers men, or divers assemblies that doe the same to divers parts of christendome. this power regal under christ, being challenged, universally by that pope, and in particular common-wealths by assemblies of the pastors of the place, (when the scripture gives it to none but to civill soveraigns,) comes to be so passionately disputed, that it putteth out the light of nature, and causeth so great a darknesse in mens understanding, that they see not who it is to whom they have engaged their obedience. and that the pope is his vicar generall consequent to this claim of the pope to vicar generall of christ in the present church, (supposed to be that kingdom of his, to which we are addressed in the gospel,) is the doctrine, that it is necessary for a christian king, to receive his crown by a bishop; as if it were from that ceremony, that he derives the clause of dei gratia in his title; and that then onely he is made king by the favour of god, when he is crowned by the authority of gods universall viceregent on earth; and that every bishop whosoever be his soveraign, taketh at his consecration an oath of absolute obedience to the pope, consequent to the same, is the doctrine of the fourth councell of lateran, held under pope innocent the third, (chap. . de haereticis.) "that if a king at the popes admonition, doe not purge his kingdome of haeresies, and being excommunicate for the same, doe not give satisfaction within a year, his subjects are absolved of the bond of their obedience." where, by haeresies are understood all opinions which the church of rome hath forbidden to be maintained. and by this means, as often as there is any repugnancy between the politicall designes of the pope, and other christian princes, as there is very often, there ariseth such a mist amongst their subjects, that they know not a stranger that thrusteth himself into the throne of their lawfull prince, from him whom they had themselves placed there; and in this darknesse of mind, are made to fight one against another, without discerning their enemies from their friends, under the conduct of another mans ambition. and that the pastors are the clergy from the same opinion, that the present church is the kingdome of god, it proceeds that pastours, deacons, and all other ministers of the church, take the name to themselves of the clergy, giving to other christians the name of laity, that is, simply people. for clergy signifies those, whose maintenance is that revenue, which god having reserved to himselfe during his reigne over the israelites, assigned to the tribe of levi (who were to be his publique ministers, and had no portion of land set them out to live on, as their brethren) to be their inheritance. the pope therefore, (pretending the present church to be, as the realme of israel, the kingdome of god) challenging to himselfe and his subordinate ministers, the like revenue, as the inheritance of god, the name of clergy was sutable to that claime. and thence it is, that tithes, or other tributes paid to the levites, as gods right, amongst the israelites, have a long time been demanded, and taken of christians, by ecclesiastiques, jure divino, that is, in gods right. by which meanes, the people every where were obliged to a double tribute; one to the state, another to the clergy; whereof, that to the clergy, being the tenth of their revenue, is double to that which a king of athens (and esteemed a tyrant) exacted of his subjects for the defraying of all publique charges: for he demanded no more but the twentieth part; and yet abundantly maintained therewith the commonwealth. and in the kingdome of the jewes, during the sacerdotall reigne of god, the tithes and offerings were the whole publique revenue. from the same mistaking of the present church for the kingdom of god, came in the distinction betweene the civill and the canon laws: the civil law being the acts of soveraigns in their own dominions, and the canon law being the acts of the pope in the same dominions. which canons, though they were but canons, that is, rules propounded, and but voluntarily received by christian princes, till the translation of the empire to charlemain; yet afterwards, as the power of the pope encreased, became rules commanded, and the emperours themselves (to avoyd greater mischiefes, which the people blinded might be led into) were forced to let them passe for laws. from hence it is, that in all dominions, where the popes ecclesiasticall power is entirely received, jewes, turkes, and gentiles, are in the roman church tolerated in their religion, as farre forth, as in the exercise and profession thereof they offend not against the civill power: whereas in a christian, though a stranger, not to be of the roman religion, is capitall; because the pope pretendeth that all christians are his subjects. for otherwise it were as much against the law of nations, to persecute a christian stranger, for professing the religion of his owne country, as an infidell; or rather more, in as much as they that are not against christ, are with him. from the same it is, that in every christian state there are certaine men, that are exempt, by ecclesiasticall liberty, from the tributes, and from the tribunals of the civil state; for so are the secular clergy, besides monks and friars, which in many places, bear so great a proportion to the common people, as if need were, there might be raised out of them alone, an army, sufficient for any warre the church militant should imploy them in, against their owne, or other princes. error from mistaking consecration for conjuration a second generall abuse of scripture, is the turning of consecration into conjuration, or enchantment. to consecrate, is in scripture, to offer, give, or dedicate, in pious and decent language and gesture, a man, or any other thing to god, by separating of it from common use; that is to say, to sanctifie, or make it gods, and to be used only by those, whom god hath appointed to be his publike ministers, (as i have already proved at large in the . chapter;) and thereby to change, not the thing consecrated, but onely the use of it, from being profane and common, to be holy, and peculiar to gods service. but when by such words, the nature of qualitie of the thing it selfe, is pretended to be changed, it is not consecration, but either an extraordinary worke of god, or a vaine and impious conjuration. but seeing (for the frequency of pretending the change of nature in their consecrations,) it cannot be esteemed a work extraordinary, it is no other than a conjuration or incantation, whereby they would have men to beleeve an alteration of nature that is not, contrary to the testimony of mans sight, and of all the rest of his senses. as for example, when the priest, in stead of consecrating bread and wine to gods peculiar service in the sacrament of the lords supper, (which is but a separation of it from the common use, to signifie, that is, to put men in mind of their redemption, by the passion of christ, whose body was broken, and blood shed upon the crosse for our transgressions,) pretends, that by saying of the words of our saviour, "this is my body," and "this is my blood," the nature of bread is no more there, but his very body; notwithstanding there appeared not to the sight, or other sense of the receiver, any thing that appeareth not before the consecration. the egyptian conjurers, that are said to have turned their rods to serpents, and the water into bloud, are thought but to have deluded the senses of the spectators by a false shew of things, yet are esteemed enchanters: but what should wee have thought of them, if there had appeared in their rods nothing like a serpent, and in the water enchanted, nothing like bloud, nor like any thing else but water, but that they had faced down the king, that they were serpents that looked like rods, and that it was bloud that seemed water? that had been both enchantment, and lying. and yet in this daily act of the priest, they doe the very same, by turning the holy words into the manner of a charme, which produceth nothing now to the sense; but they face us down, that it hath turned the bread into a man; nay more, into a god; and require men to worship it, as if it were our saviour himself present god and man, and thereby to commit most grosse idolatry. for if it bee enough to excuse it of idolatry, to say it is no more bread, but god; why should not the same excuse serve the egyptians, in case they had the faces to say, the leeks, and onyons they worshipped, were not very leeks, and onyons, but a divinity under their species, or likenesse. the words, "this is my body," are aequivalent to these, "this signifies, or represents my body;" and it is an ordinary figure of speech: but to take it literally, is an abuse; nor though so taken, can it extend any further, than to the bread which christ himself with his own hands consecrated. for hee never said, that of what bread soever, any priest whatsoever, should say, "this is my body," or, "this is christs body," the same should presently be transubstantiated. nor did the church of rome ever establish this transubstantiation, till the time of innocent the third; which was not above . years agoe, when the power of popes was at the highest, and the darknesse of the time grown so great, as men discerned not the bread that was given them to eat, especially when it was stamped with the figure of christ upon the crosse, as if they would have men beleeve it were transubstantiated, not onely into the body of christ, but also into the wood of his crosse, and that they did eat both together in the sacrament. incantation in the ceremonies of baptisme the like incantation, in stead of consecration, is used also in the sacrament of baptisme: where the abuse of gods name in each severall person, and in the whole trinity, with the sign of the crosse at each name, maketh up the charm: as first, when they make the holy water, the priest saith, "i conjure thee, thou creature of water, in the name of god the father almighty, and in the name of jesus christ his onely son our lord, and in vertue of the holy ghost, that thou become conjured water, to drive away all the powers of the enemy, and to eradicate, and supplant the enemy, &c." and the same in the benediction of the salt to be mingled with it; "that thou become conjured salt, that all phantasmes, and knavery of the devills fraud may fly and depart from the place wherein thou art sprinkled; and every unclean spirit bee conjured by him that shall come to judge the quicke and the dead." the same in the benediction of the oyle. "that all the power of the enemy, all the host of the devill, all assaults and phantasmes of satan, may be driven away by this creature of oyle." and for the infant that is to be baptized, he is subject to many charms; first, at the church dore the priest blows thrice in the childs face, and sayes, "goe out of him unclean spirit, and give place to the holy ghost the comforter." as if all children, till blown on by the priest were daemoniaques: again, before his entrance into the church, he saith as before, "i conjure thee, &c. to goe out, and depart from this servant of god:" and again the same exorcisme is repeated once more before he be baptized. these, and some other incantations, and consecrations, in administration of the sacraments of baptisme, and the lords supper; wherein every thing that serveth to those holy men (except the unhallowed spittle of the priest) hath some set form of exorcisme. in marriage, in visitation of the sick, and in consecration of places nor are the other rites, as of marriage, of extreme unction, of visitation of the sick, of consecrating churches, and church-yards, and the like, exempt from charms; in as much as there is in them the use of enchanted oyle, and water, with the abuse of the crosse, and of the holy word of david, "asperges me domine hyssopo," as things of efficacy to drive away phantasmes, and imaginery spirits. errors from mistaking eternall life, and everlasting death another generall error, is from the misinterpretation of the words eternall life, everlasting death, and the second death. for though we read plainly in holy scripture, that god created adam in an estate of living for ever, which was conditionall, that is to say, if he disobeyed not his commandement; which was not essentiall to humane nature, but consequent to the vertue of the tree of life; whereof hee had liberty to eat, as long as hee had not sinned; and that hee was thrust out of paradise after he had sinned, lest hee should eate thereof, and live for ever; and that christs passion is a discharge of sin to all that beleeve on him; and by consequence, a restitution of eternall life, to all the faithfull, and to them onely: yet the doctrine is now, and hath been a long time far otherwise; namely, that every man hath eternity of life by nature, in as much as his soul is immortall: so that the flaming sword at the entrance of paradise, though it hinder a man from coming to the tree of life, hinders him not from the immortality which god took from him for his sin; nor makes him to need the sacrificing of christ, for the recovering of the same; and consequently, not onely the faithfull and righteous, but also the wicked, and the heathen, shall enjoy eternall life, without any death at all; much lesse a second, and everlasting death. to salve this, it is said, that by second, and everlasting death, is meant a second, and everlasting life, but in torments; a figure never used, but in this very case. all which doctrine is founded onely on some of the obscurer places of the new testament; which neverthelesse, the whole scope of the scripture considered, are cleer enough in a different sense, and unnecessary to the christian faith. for supposing that when a man dies, there remaineth nothing of him but his carkasse; cannot god that raised inanimated dust and clay into a living creature by his word, as easily raise a dead carkasse to life again, and continue him alive for ever, or make him die again, by another word? the soule in scripture, signifieth alwaies, either the life, or the living creature; and the body and soule jointly, the body alive. in the fift day of the creation, god said, let the water produce reptile animae viventis, the creeping thing that hath in it a living soule; the english translate it, "that hath life:" and again, god created whales, "& omnem animam viventem;" which in the english is, "every living creature:" and likewise of man, god made him of the dust of the earth, and breathed in his face the breath of life, "& factus est homo in animam viventem," that is, "and man was made a living creature;" and after noah came out of the arke, god saith, hee will no more smite "omnem animam viventem," that is "every living creature;" and deut. . . "eate not the bloud, for the bloud is the soule;" that is "the life." from which places, if by soule were meant a substance incorporeall, with an existence separated from the body, it might as well be inferred of any other living creature, as of man. but that the souls of the faithfull, are not of their own nature, but by gods speciall grace, to remaine in their bodies, from the resurrection to all eternity, i have already i think sufficiently proved out of the scriptures, in the . chapter. and for the places of the new testament, where it is said that any man shall be cast body and soul into hell fire, it is no more than body and life; that is to say, they shall be cast alive into the perpetuall fire of gehenna. as the doctrine of purgatory, and exorcismes, and invocation of saints this window it is, that gives entrance to the dark doctrine, first, of eternall torments; and afterwards of purgatory, and consequently of the walking abroad, especially in places consecrated, solitary, or dark, of the ghosts of men deceased; and thereby to the pretences of exorcisme and conjuration of phantasmes; as also of invocation of men dead; and to the doctrine of indulgences; that is to say, of exemption for a time, or for ever, from the fire of purgatory, wherein these incorporeall substances are pretended by burning to be cleansed, and made fit for heaven. for men being generally possessed before the time of our saviour, by contagion of the daemonology of the greeks, of an opinion, that the souls of men were substances distinct from their bodies, and therefore that when the body was dead, the soule of every man, whether godly, or wicked, must subsist somewhere by vertue of its own nature, without acknowledging therein any supernaturall gift of gods; the doctors of the church doubted a long time, what was the place, which they were to abide in, till they should be re-united to their bodies in the resurrection; supposing for a while, they lay under the altars: but afterward the church of rome found it more profitable, to build for them this place of purgatory; which by some other churches in this later age, has been demolished. the texts alledged for the doctrines aforementioned have been answered before let us now consider, what texts of scripture seem most to confirm these three generall errors, i have here touched. as for those which cardinall bellarmine hath alledged, for the present kingdome of god administred by the pope, (than which there are none that make a better show of proof,) i have already answered them; and made it evident, that the kingdome of god, instituted by moses, ended in the election of saul: after which time the priest of his own authority never deposed any king. that which the high priest did to athaliah, was not done in his own right, but in the right of the young king joash her son: but solomon in his own right deposed the high priest abiathar, and set up another in his place. the most difficult place to answer, of all those than can be brought, to prove the kingdome of god by christ is already in this world, is alledged, not by bellarmine, nor any other of the church of rome; but by beza; that will have it to begin from the resurrection of christ. but whether hee intend thereby, to entitle the presbytery to the supreme power ecclesiasticall in the common-wealth of geneva, (and consequently to every presbytery in every other common-wealth,) or to princes, and other civill soveraignes, i doe not know. for the presbytery hath challenged the power to excommunicate their owne kings, and to bee the supreme moderators in religion, in the places where they have that form of church government, no lesse then the pope challengeth it universally. answer to the text on which beza infereth that the kingdome of christ began at the resurrection the words are (marke . .) "verily, i say unto you, that there be some of them that stand here, which shall not tast of death, till they have seene the kingdome of god come with power." which words, if taken grammatically, make it certaine, that either some of those men that stood by christ at that time, are yet alive; or else, that the kingdome of god must be now in this present world. and then there is another place more difficult: for when the apostles after our saviours resurrection, and immediately before his ascension, asked our saviour, saying, (acts. . .) "wilt thou at this time restore again the kingdome to israel," he answered them, "it is not for you to know the times and the seasons, which the father hath put in his own power; but ye shall receive power by the comming of the holy ghost upon you, and yee shall be my (martyrs) witnesses both in jerusalem, & in all judaea, and in samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth:" which is as much as to say, my kingdome is not yet come, nor shall you foreknow when it shall come, for it shall come as a theefe in the night; but i will send you the holy ghost, and by him you shall have power to beare witnesse to all the world (by your preaching) of my resurrection, and the workes i have done, and the doctrine i have taught, that they may beleeve in me, and expect eternall life, at my comming againe: how does this agree with the comming of christs kingdome at the resurrection? and that which st. paul saies ( thessal. . , .) "that they turned from idols, to serve the living and true god, and to waite for his sonne from heaven:" where to waite for his sonne from heaven, is to wait for his comming to be king in power; which were not necessary, if this kingdome had beene then present. againe, if the kingdome of god began (as beza on that place (mark . .) would have it) at the resurrection; what reason is there for christians ever since the resurrection to say in their prayers, "let thy kingdome come"? it is therefore manifest, that the words of st. mark are not so to be interpreted. there be some of them that stand here (saith our saviour) that shall not tast of death till they have seen the kingdome of god come in power. if then this kingdome were to come at the resurrection of christ, why is it said, "some of them" rather than all? for they all lived till after christ was risen. explication of the place in mark . but they that require an exact interpretation of this text, let them interpret first the like words of our saviour to st. peter concerning st. john, (chap. . .) "if i will that he tarry till i come, what is that to thee?" upon which was grounded a report that hee should not dye: neverthelesse the truth of that report was neither confirmed, as well grounded; nor refuted, as ill grounded on those words; but left as a saying not understood. the same difficulty is also in the place of st. marke. and if it be lawfull to conjecture at their meaning, by that which immediately followes, both here, and in st. luke, where the same is againe repeated, it is not unprobable, to say they have relation to the transfiguration, which is described in the verses immediately following; where it is said, that "after six dayes jesus taketh with him peter, and james, and john (not all, but some of his disciples) and leadeth them up into an high mountaine apart by themselves, and was transfigured before them. and his rayment became shining, exceeding white as snow; so as no fuller on earth can white them. and there appeared unto them elias with moses, and they were talking with jesus, &c." so that they saw christ in glory and majestie, as he is to come; insomuch as "they were sore afraid." and thus the promise of our saviour was accomplished by way of vision: for it was a vision, as may probably bee inferred out of st. luke, that reciteth the same story (ch. . ve. .) and saith, that peter and they that were with him, were heavy with sleep; but most certainly out of matth. . . (where the same is again related;) for our saviour charged them, saying, "tell no man the vision untill the son of man be risen from the dead." howsoever it be, yet there can from thence be taken no argument, to prove that the kingdome of god taketh beginning till the day of judgement. abuse of some other texts in defence of the power of the pope as for some other texts, to prove the popes power over civill soveraignes (besides those of bellarmine;) as that the two swords that christ and his apostles had amongst them, were the spirituall and the temporall sword, which they say st. peter had given him by christ: and, that of the two luminaries, the greater signifies the pope, and the lesser the king; one might as well inferre out of the first verse of the bible, that by heaven is meant the pope, and by earth the king: which is not arguing from scripture, but a wanton insulting over princes, that came in fashion after the time the popes were growne so secure of their greatnesse, as to contemne all christian kings; and treading on the necks of emperours, to mocke both them, and the scripture, in the words of the . psalm, "thou shalt tread upon the lion and the adder, the young lion and the dragon thou shalt trample under thy feet." the manner of consecrations in the scripture, was without exorcisms as for the rites of consecration, though they depend for the most part upon the discretion and judgement of the governors of the church, and not upon the scriptures; yet those governors are obliged to such direction, as the nature of the action it selfe requireth; as that the ceremonies, words, and gestures, be both decent, and significant, or at least conformable to the action. when moses consecrated the tabernacle, the altar, and the vessels belonging to them (exod. .) he anointed them with the oyle which god had commanded to bee made for that purpose; and they were holy; there was nothing exorcised, to drive away phantasmes. the same moses (the civill soveraigne of israel) when he consecrated aaron (the high priest,) and his sons, did wash them with water, (not exorcised water,) put their garments upon them, and anointed them with oyle; and they were sanctified, to minister unto the lord in the priests office; which was a simple and decent cleansing, and adorning them, before hee presented them to god, to be his servants. when king solomon, (the civill soveraigne of israel) consecrated the temple hee had built, ( kings .) he stood before all the congregation of israel; and having blessed them, he gave thanks to god, for putting into the heart of his father, to build it; and for giving to himselfe the grace to accomplish the same; and then prayed unto him, first, to accept that house, though it were not sutable to his infinite greatnesse; and to hear the prayers of his servants that should pray therein, or (if they were absent) towards it; and lastly, he offered a sacrifice of peace-offering, and the house was dedicated. here was no procession; the king stood still in his first place; no exorcised water; no asperges me, nor other impertinent application of words spoken upon another occasion; but a decent, and rationall speech, and such as in making to god a present of his new built house, was most conformable to the occasion. we read not that st. john did exorcise the water of jordan; nor philip the water of the river wherein he baptized the eunuch; nor that any pastor in the time of the apostles, did take his spittle, and put it to the nose of the person to be baptized, and say, "in odorem suavitatis," that is, "for a sweet savour unto the lord;" wherein neither the ceremony of spittle, for the uncleannesse; nor the application of that scripture for the levity, can by any authority of man be justified. the immortality of mans soule, not proved by scripture to be of nature, but of grace to prove that the soule separated from the body liveth eternally, not onely the soules of the elect, by especiall grace, and restauration of the eternall life which adam lost by sinne, and our saviour restored by the sacrifice of himself, to the faithfull, but also the soules of reprobates, as a property naturally consequent to the essence of mankind, without other grace of god, but that which is universally given to all mankind; there are divers places, which at the first sight seem sufficiently to serve the turn: but such, as when i compare them with that which i have before (chapter .) alledged out of the of job, seem to mee much more subject to a divers interpretation, than the words of job. and first there are the words of solomon (ecclesiastes . .) "then shall the dust return to dust, as it was, and the spirit shall return to god that gave it." which may bear well enough (if there be no other text directly against it) this interpretation, that god onely knows, (but man not,) what becomes of a mans spirit, when he expireth; and the same solomon, in the same book, (chap. . ver. , .) delivereth in the same sentence in the sense i have given it: his words are, "all goe, (man and beast) to the same place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again; who knoweth that the spirit of man goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast goeth downward to the earth?" that is, none knows but god; nor is it an unusuall phrase to say of things we understand not, "god knows what," and "god knows where." that of gen. . . "enoch walked with god, and he was not; for god took him;" which is expounded heb. . . "he was translated, that he should not die; and was not found, because god had translated him. for before his translation, he had this testimony, that he pleased god," making as much for the immortality of the body, as of the soule, proveth, that this his translation was peculiar to them that please god; not common to them with the wicked; and depending on grace, not on nature. but on the contrary, what interpretation shall we give, besides the literall sense of the words of solomon (eccles. . .) "that which befalleth the sons of men, befalleth beasts, even one thing befalleth them; as the one dyeth, so doth the other; yea, they have all one breath (one spirit;) so that a man hath no praeeminence above a beast, for all is vanity." by the literall sense, here is no naturall immortality of the soule; nor yet any repugnancy with the life eternall, which the elect shall enjoy by grace. and (chap. . ver. .) "better is he that hath not yet been, than both they;" that is, than they that live, or have lived; which, if the soule of all them that have lived, were immortall, were a hard saying; for then to have an immortall soule, were worse than to have no soule at all. and againe,(chapt. . .) "the living know they shall die, but the dead know not any thing;" that is, naturally, and before the resurrection of the body. another place which seems to make for a naturall immortality of the soule, is that, where our saviour saith, that abraham, isaac, and jacob are living: but this is spoken of the promise of god, and of their certitude to rise again, not of a life then actuall; and in the same sense that god said to adam, that on the day hee should eate of the forbidden fruit, he should certainly die; from that time forward he was a dead man by sentence; but not by execution, till almost a thousand years after. so abraham, isaac, and jacob were alive by promise, then, when christ spake; but are not actually till the resurrection. and the history of dives and lazarus, make nothing against this, if wee take it (as it is) for a parable. but there be other places of the new testament, where an immortality seemeth to be directly attributed to the wicked. for it is evident, that they shall all rise to judgement. and it is said besides in many places, that they shall goe into "everlasting fire, everlasting torments, everlasting punishments; and that the worm of conscience never dyeth;" and all this is comprehended in the word everlasting death, which is ordinarily interpreted everlasting life in torments: and yet i can find no where that any man shall live in torments everlastingly. also, it seemeth hard, to say, that god who is the father of mercies, that doth in heaven and earth all that hee will; that hath the hearts of all men in his disposing; that worketh in men both to doe, and to will; and without whose free gift a man hath neither inclination to good, nor repentance of evill, should punish mens transgressions without any end of time, and with all the extremity of torture, that men can imagine, and more. we are therefore to consider, what the meaning is, of everlasting fire, and other the like phrases of scripture. i have shewed already, that the kingdome of god by christ beginneth at the day of judgment: that in that day, the faithfull shall rise again, with glorious, and spirituall bodies, and bee his subjects in that his kingdome, which shall be eternall; that they shall neither marry, nor be given in marriage, nor eate and drink, as they did in their naturall bodies; but live for ever in their individuall persons, without the specificall eternity of generation: and that the reprobates also shall rise again, to receive punishments for their sins: as also, that those of the elect, which shall be alive in their earthly bodies at that day, shall have their bodies suddenly changed, and made spirituall, and immortall. but that the bodies of the reprobate, who make the kingdome of satan, shall also be glorious, or spirituall bodies, or that they shall bee as the angels of god, neither eating, nor drinking, nor engendring; or that their life shall be eternall in their individuall persons, as the life of every faithfull man is, or as the life of adam had been if hee had not sinned, there is no place of scripture to prove it; save onely these places concerning eternall torments; which may otherwise be interpreted. from whence may be inferred, that as the elect after the resurrection shall be restored to the estate, wherein adam was before he had sinned; so the reprobate shall be in the estate, that adam, and his posterity were in after the sin committed; saving that god promised a redeemer to adam, and such of his seed as should trust in him, and repent; but not to them that should die in their sins, as do the reprobate. eternall torments what these things considered, the texts that mention eternall fire, eternal torments, or the word that never dieth, contradict not the doctrine of a second, and everlasting death, in the proper and naturall sense of the word death. the fire, or torments prepared for the wicked in gehenna, tophet, or in what place soever, may continue for ever; and there may never want wicked men to be tormented in them; though not every, nor any one eternally. for the wicked being left in the estate they were in after adams sin, may at the resurrection live as they did, marry, and give in marriage, and have grosse and corruptible bodies, as all mankind now have; and consequently may engender perpetually, after the resurrection, as they did before: for there is no place of scripture to the contrary. for st. paul, speaking of the resurrection ( cor. .) understandeth it onely of the resurrection to life eternall; and not the resurrection to punishment. and of the first, he saith that the body is "sown in corruption, raised in incorruption; sown in dishonour, raised in honour; sown in weaknesse, raised in power; sown a naturall body, raised a spirituall body:" there is no such thing can be said of the bodies of them that rise to punishment. the text is luke . verses , , . a fertile text. "the children of this world marry, and are given in marriage; but they that shall be counted worthy to obtaine that world, and the resurrection from the dead, neither marry, nor are given in marriage: neither can they die any more; for they are equall to the angells, and are the children of god, being the children of the resurrection:" the children of this world, that are in the estate which adam left them in, shall marry, and be given in marriage; that is corrupt, and generate successively; which is an immortality of the kind, but not of the persons of men: they are not worthy to be counted amongst them that shall obtain the next world, and an absolute resurrection from the dead; but onely a short time, as inmates of that world; and to the end onely to receive condign punishment for their contumacy. the elect are the onely children of the resurrection; that is to say the sole heirs of eternall life: they only can die no more; it is they that are equall to the angels, and that are the children of god; and not the reprobate. to the reprobate there remaineth after the resurrection, a second, and eternall death: between which resurrection, and their second, and eternall death, is but a time of punishment and torment; and to last by succession of sinners thereunto, as long as the kind of man by propagation shall endure, which is eternally. answer of the texts alledged for purgatory upon this doctrine of the naturall eternity of separated soules, is founded (as i said) the doctrine of purgatory. for supposing eternall life by grace onely, there is no life, but the life of the body; and no immortality till the resurrection. the texts for purgatory alledged by bellarmine out of the canonicall scripture of the old testament, are first, the fasting of david for saul and jonathan, mentioned ( kings, . .); and againe, ( sam. . .) for the death of abner. this fasting of david, he saith, was for the obtaining of something for them at gods hands, after their death; because after he had fasted to procure the recovery of his owne child, assoone as he know it was dead, he called for meate. seeing then the soule hath an existence separate from the body, and nothing can be obtained by mens fasting for the soules that are already either in heaven, or hell, it followeth that there be some soules of dead men, what are neither in heaven, nor in hell; and therefore they must bee in some third place, which must be purgatory. and thus with hard straining, hee has wrested those places to the proofe of a purgatory; whereas it is manifest, that the ceremonies of mourning, and fasting, when they are used for the death of men, whose life was not profitable to the mourners, they are used for honours sake to their persons; and when tis done for the death of them by whose life the mourners had benefit, it proceeds from their particular dammage: and so david honoured saul, and abner, with his fasting; and in the death of his owne child, recomforted himselfe, by receiving his ordinary food. in the other places, which he alledgeth out of the old testament, there is not so much as any shew, or colour of proofe. he brings in every text wherein there is the word anger, or fire, or burning, or purging, or clensing, in case any of the fathers have but in a sermon rhetorically applied it to the doctrine of purgatory, already beleeved. the first verse of psalme, . "o lord rebuke me not in thy wrath, nor chasten me in thy hot displeasure:" what were this to purgatory, if augustine had not applied the wrath to the fire of hell, and the displeasure, to that of purgatory? and what is it to purgatory, that of psalme, . . "wee went through fire and water, and thou broughtest us to a moist place;" and other the like texts, (with which the doctors of those times entended to adorne, or extend their sermons, or commentaries) haled to their purposes by force of wit? places of the new testament for purgatory answered but he alledgeth other places of the new testament, that are not so easie to be answered: and first that of matth. . . "whosoever speaketh a word against the sonne of man, it shall be forgiven him; but whosoever speaketh against the holy ghost, it shall not bee forgiven him neither in this world, nor in the world to come:" where he will have purgatory to be the world to come, wherein some sinnes may be forgiven, which in this world were not forgiven: notwithstanding that it is manifest, there are but three worlds; one from the creation to the flood, which was destroyed by water, and is called in scripture the old world; another from the flood to the day of judgement, which is the present world, and shall bee destroyed by fire; and the third, which shall bee from the day of judgement forward, everlasting, which is called the world to come; and in which it is agreed by all, there shall be no purgatory; and therefore the world to come, and purgatory, are inconsistent. but what then can bee the meaning of those our saviours words? i confesse they are very hardly to bee reconciled with all the doctrines now unanimously received: nor is it any shame, to confesse the profoundnesse of the scripture, to bee too great to be sounded by the shortnesse of humane understanding. neverthelesse, i may propound such things to the consideration of more learned divines, as the text it selfe suggesteth. and first, seeing to speake against the holy ghost, as being the third person of the trinity, is to speake against the church, in which the holy ghost resideth; it seemeth the comparison is made, betweene the easinesse of our saviour, in bearing with offences done to him while he was on earth, and the severity of the pastors after him, against those which should deny their authority, which was from the holy ghost: as if he should say, you that deny my power; nay you that shall crucifie me, shall be pardoned by mee, as often as you turne unto mee by repentance: but if you deny the power of them that teach you hereafter, by vertue of the holy ghost, they shall be inexorable, and shall not forgive you, but persecute you in this world, and leave you without absolution, (though you turn to me, unlesse you turn also to them,) to the punishments (as much as lies in them) of the world to come: and so the words may be taken as a prophecy, or praediction concerning the times, as they have along been in the christian church: or if this be not the meaning, (for i am not peremptory in such difficult places,) perhaps there may be place left after the resurrection for the repentance of some sinners: and there is also another place, that seemeth to agree therewith. for considering the words of st. paul ( cor. . .) "what shall they doe which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why also are they baptized for the dead?" a man may probably inferre, as some have done, that in st. pauls time, there was a custome by receiving baptisme for the dead, (as men that now beleeve, are sureties and undertakers for the faith of infants, that are not capable of beleeving,) to undertake for the persons of their deceased friends, that they should be ready to obey, and receive our saviour for their king, at his coming again; and then the forgivenesse of sins in the world to come, has no need of a purgatory. but in both these interpretations, there is so much of paradox, that i trust not to them; but propound them to those that are throughly versed in the scripture, to inquire if there be no clearer place that contradicts them. onely of thus much, i see evident scripture, to perswade men, that there is neither the word, nor the thing of purgatory, neither in this, nor any other text; nor any thing that can prove a necessity of a place for the soule without the body; neither for the soule of lazarus during the four days he was dead; nor for the soules of them which the romane church pretend to be tormented now in purgatory. for god, that could give a life to a peece of clay, hath the same power to give life again to a dead man, and renew his inanimate, and rotten carkasse, into a glorious, spirituall, and immortall body. another place is that of cor. . where it is said that they which built stubble, hay, &c. on the true foundation, their work shall perish; but "they themselves shall be saved; but as through fire:" this fire, he will have to be the fire of purgatory. the words, as i have said before, are an allusion to those of zach. . . where he saith, "i will bring the third part through the fire, and refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tryed;" which is spoken of the comming of the messiah in power and glory; that is, at the day of judgment, and conflagration of the present world; wherein the elect shall not be consumed, but be refined; that is, depose their erroneous doctrines, and traditions, and have them as it were sindged off; and shall afterwards call upon the name of the true god. in like manner, the apostle saith of them, that holding this foundation jesus is the christ, shall build thereon some other doctrines that be erroneous, that they shall not be consumed in that fire which reneweth the world, but shall passe through it to salvation; but so, as to see, and relinquish their former errours. the builders, are the pastors; the foundation, that jesus is the christ; the stubble and hay, false consequences drawn from it through ignorance, or frailty; the gold, silver, and pretious stones, are their true doctrines; and their refining or purging, the relinquishing of their errors. in all which there is no colour at all for the burning of incorporeall, that is to say, impatible souls. baptisme for the dead, how understood a third place is that of cor. . before mentioned, concerning baptisme for the dead: out of which he concludeth, first, that prayers for the dead are not unprofitable; and out of that, that there is a fire of purgatory: but neither of them rightly. for of many interpretations of the word baptisme, he approveth this in the first place, that by baptisme is meant (metaphorically) a baptisme of penance; and that men are in this sense baptized, when they fast, and pray, and give almes: and so baptisme for the dead, and prayer of the dead, is the same thing. but this is a metaphor, of which there is no example, neither in the scripture, nor in any other use of language; and which is also discordant to the harmony, and scope of the scripture. the word baptisme is used (mar. . . & luk. . .) for being dipped in ones own bloud, as christ was upon the cross, and as most of the apostles were, for giving testimony of him. but it is hard to say, that prayer, fasting, and almes, have any similitude with dipping. the same is used also mat. . . (which seemeth to make somewhat for purgatory) for a purging with fire. but it is evident the fire and purging here mentioned, is the same whereof the prophet zachary speaketh (chap. . v. .) "i will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine them, &c." and st. peter after him ( epist. . .) "that the triall of your faith, which is much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tryed with fire, might be found unto praise, and honour, and glory at the appearing of jesus christ;" and st. paul ( cor. . .) the fire shall trie every mans work of what sort it is." but st. peter, and st. paul speak of the fire that shall be at the second appearing of christ; and the prophet zachary of the day of judgment: and therefore this place of s. mat. may be interpreted of the same; and then there will be no necessity of the fire of purgatory. another interpretation of baptisme for the dead, is that which i have before mentioned, which he preferreth to the second place of probability; and thence also he inferreth the utility of prayer for the dead. for if after the resurrection, such as have not heard of christ, or not beleeved in him, may be received into christs kingdome; it is not in vain, after their death, that their friends should pray for them, till they should be risen. but granting that god, at the prayers of the faithfull, may convert unto him some of those that have not heard christ preached, and consequently cannot have rejected christ, and that the charity of men in that point, cannot be blamed; yet this concludeth nothing for purgatory, because to rise from death to life, is one thing; to rise from purgatory to life is another; and being a rising from life to life, from a life in torments to a life in joy. a fourth place is that of mat. . . "agree with thine adversary quickly, whilest thou art in the way with him, lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. verily i say unto thee, thou shalt by no means come out thence, till thou has paid the uttermost farthing." in which allegory, the offender is the sinner; both the adversary and the judge is god; the way is this life; the prison is the grave; the officer, death; from which, the sinner shall not rise again to life eternall, but to a second death, till he have paid the utmost farthing, or christ pay it for him by his passion, which is a full ransome for all manner of sin, as well lesser sins, as greater crimes; both being made by the passion of christ equally veniall. the fift place, is that of matth. . . "whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause, shall be guilty in judgment. and whosoever shall say to his brother, racha, shall be guilty in the councel. but whosoever shall say, thou foole, shall be guilty to hell fire." from which words he inferreth three sorts of sins, and three sorts of punishments; and that none of those sins, but the last, shall be punished with hell fire; and consequently, that after this life, there is punishment of lesser sins in purgatory. of which inference, there is no colour in any interpretation that hath yet been given to them: shall there be a distinction after this life of courts of justice, as there was amongst the jews in our saviours time, to hear, and determine divers sorts of crimes; as the judges, and the councell? shall not all judicature appertain to christ, and his apostles? to understand therefore this text, we are not to consider it solitarily, but jointly with the words precedent, and subsequent. our saviour in this chapter interpreteth the law of moses; which the jews thought was then fulfilled, when they had not transgressed the grammaticall sense thereof, howsoever they had transgressed against the sentence, or meaning of the legislator. therefore whereas they thought the sixth commandement was not broken, but by killing a man; nor the seventh, but when a man lay with a woman, not his wife; our saviour tells them, the inward anger of a man against his brother, if it be without just cause, is homicide: you have heard (saith hee) the law of moses, "thou shalt not kill," and that "whosoever shall kill, shall be condemned before the judges," or before the session of the seventy: but i say unto you, to be angry with ones brother without cause; or to say unto him racha, or foole, is homicide, and shall be punished at the day of judgment, and session of christ, and his apostles, with hell fire: so that those words were not used to distinguish between divers crimes, and divers courts of justice, and divers punishments; but to taxe the distinction between sin, and sin, which the jews drew not from the difference of the will in obeying god, but from the difference of their temporall courts of justice; and to shew them that he that had the will to hurt his brother, though the effect appear but in reviling, or not at all, shall be cast into hell fire, by the judges, and by the session, which shall be the same, not different courts at the day of judgment. this considered, what can be drawn from this text, to maintain purgatory, i cannot imagine. the sixth place is luke . . "make yee friends of the unrighteous mammon, that when yee faile, they may receive you into everlasting tabernacles." this he alledges to prove invocation of saints departed. but the sense is plain, that we should make friends with our riches, of the poore, and thereby obtain their prayers whilest they live. "he that giveth to the poore, lendeth to the lord. "the seventh is luke . . "lord remember me when thou commest into thy kingdome:" therefore, saith hee, there is remission of sins after this life. but the consequence is not good. our saviour then forgave him; and at his comming againe in glory, will remember to raise him againe to life eternall. the eight is acts . . where st. peter saith of christ, "that god had raised him up, and loosed the paines of death, because it was not possible he should be holden of it;" which hee interprets to bee a descent of christ into purgatory, to loose some soules there from their torments; whereas it is manifest, that it was christ that was loosed; it was hee that could not bee holden of death, or the grave; and not the souls in purgatory. but if that which beza sayes in his notes on this place be well observed, there is none that will not see, that in stead of paynes, it should be bands; and then there is no further cause to seek for purgatory in this text. chapter xlv. of daemonology, and other reliques of the religion of the gentiles the originall of daemonology the impression made on the organs of sight, by lucide bodies, either in one direct line, or in many lines, reflected from opaque, or refracted in the passage through diaphanous bodies, produceth in living creatures, in whom god hath placed such organs, an imagination of the object, from whence the impression proceedeth; which imagination is called sight; and seemeth not to bee a meer imagination, but the body it selfe without us; in the same manner, as when a man violently presseth his eye, there appears to him a light without, and before him, which no man perceiveth but himselfe; because there is indeed no such thing without him, but onely a motion in the interiour organs, pressing by resistance outward, that makes him think so. and the motion made by this pressure, continuing after the object which caused it is removed, is that we call imagination, and memory, and (in sleep, and sometimes in great distemper of the organs by sicknesse, or violence) a dream: of which things i have already spoken briefly, in the second and third chapters. this nature of sight having never been discovered by the ancient pretenders to naturall knowledge; much lesse by those that consider not things so remote (as that knowledge is) from their present use; it was hard for men to conceive of those images in the fancy, and in the sense, otherwise, than of things really without us: which some (because they vanish away, they know not whither, nor how,) will have to be absolutely incorporeall, that is to say immateriall, of formes without matter; colour and figure, without any coloured or figured body; and that they can put on aiery bodies (as a garment) to make them visible when they will to our bodily eyes; and others say, are bodies, and living creatures, but made of air, or other more subtile and aethereall matter, which is, then, when they will be seen, condensed. but both of them agree on one generall appellation of them, daemons. as if the dead of whom they dreamed, were not inhabitants of their own brain, but of the air, or of heaven, or hell; not phantasmes, but ghosts; with just as much reason, as if one should say, he saw his own ghost in a looking-glasse, or the ghosts of the stars in a river; or call the ordinary apparition of the sun, of the quantity of about a foot, the daemon, or ghost of that great sun that enlighteneth the whole visible world: and by that means have feared them, as things of an unknown, that is, of an unlimited power to doe them good, or harme; and consequently, given occasion to the governours of the heathen common-wealths to regulate this their fear, by establishing that daemonology (in which the poets, as principal priests of the heathen religion, were specially employed, or reverenced) to the publique peace, and to the obedience of subjects necessary thereunto; and to make some of them good daemons, and others evill; the one as a spurre to the observance, the other, as reines to withhold them from violation of the laws. what were the daemons of the ancients what kind of things they were, to whom they attributed the name of daemons, appeareth partly in the genealogie of their gods, written by hesiod, one of the most ancient poets of the graecians; and partly in other histories; of which i have observed some few before, in the . chapter of this discourse. how that doctrine was spread the graecians, by their colonies and conquests, communicated their language and writings into asia, egypt, and italy; and therein, by necessary consequence their daemonology, or (as st. paul calles it) "their doctrines of devils;" and by that meanes, the contagion was derived also to the jewes, both of judaea, and alexandria, and other parts, whereinto they were dispersed. but the name of daemon they did not (as the graecians) attribute to spirits both good, and evill; but to the evill onely: and to the good daemons they gave the name of the spirit of god; and esteemed those into whose bodies they entred to be prophets. in summe, all singularity if good, they attributed to the spirit of god; and if evill, to some daemon, but a kakodaimen, an evill daemon, that is, a devill. and therefore, they called daemoniaques, that is, possessed by the devill, such as we call madmen or lunatiques; or such as had the falling sicknesse; or that spoke any thing, which they for want of understanding, thought absurd: as also of an unclean person in a notorious degree, they used to say he had an unclean spirit; of a dumbe man, that he had a dumbe devill; and of john baptist (math. . .) for the singularity of his fasting, that he had a devill; and of our saviour, because he said, hee that keepeth his sayings should not see death in aeternum, (john . .) "now we know thou hast a devill; abraham is dead, and the prophets are dead:" and again, because he said (john . .) "they went about to kill him," the people answered, "thou hast a devill, who goeth about to kill thee?" whereby it is manifest, that the jewes had the same opinions concerning phantasmes, namely, that they were not phantasmes that is, idols of the braine, but things reall, and independent on the fancy. why our saviour controlled it not which doctrine if it be not true, why (may some say) did not our saviour contradict it, and teach the contrary? nay why does he use on diverse occasions, such forms of speech as seem to confirm it? to this i answer, that first, where christ saith, "a spirit hath not flesh and bone," though hee shew that there be spirits, yet he denies not that they are bodies: and where st. paul sais, "we shall rise spirituall bodies," he acknowledgeth the nature of spirits, but that they are bodily spirits; which is not difficult to understand. for air and many other things are bodies, though not flesh and bone, or any other grosse body, to bee discerned by the eye. but when our saviour speaketh to the devill, and commandeth him to go out of a man, if by the devill, be meant a disease, as phrenesy, or lunacy, or a corporeal spirit, is not the speech improper? can diseases heare? or can there be a corporeall spirit in a body of flesh and bone, full already of vitall and animall spirits? are there not therefore spirits, that neither have bodies, nor are meer imaginations? to the first i answer, that the addressing of our saviours command to the madnesse, or lunacy he cureth, is no more improper, then was his rebuking of the fever, or of the wind, and sea; for neither do these hear: or than was the command of god, to the light, to the firmament, to the sunne, and starres, when he commanded them to bee; for they could not heare before they had a beeing. but those speeches are not improper, because they signifie the power of gods word: no more therefore is it improper, to command madnesse, or lunacy (under the appellation of devils, by which they were then commonly understood,) to depart out of a mans body. to the second, concerning their being incorporeall, i have not yet observed any place of scripture, from whence it can be gathered, that any man was ever possessed with any other corporeal spirit, but that of his owne, by which his body is naturally moved. the scriptures doe not teach that spirits are incorporeall our saviour, immediately after the holy ghost descended upon him in the form of a dove, is said by st. matthew (chapt. . .) to have been "led up by the spirit into the wildernesse;" and the same is recited (luke . .) in these words, "jesus being full of the holy ghost, was led in the spirit into the wildernesse;" whereby it is evident, that by spirit there, is meant the holy ghost. this cannot be interpreted for a possession: for christ, and the holy ghost, are but one and the same substance; which is no possession of one substance, or body, by another. and whereas in the verses following, he is said "to have been taken up by the devill into the holy city, and set upon a pinnacle of the temple," shall we conclude thence that hee was possessed of the devill, or carryed thither by violence? and again, "carryed thence by the devill into an exceeding high mountain, who shewed him them thence all the kingdomes of the world:" herein, wee are not to beleeve he was either possessed, or forced by the devill; nor that any mountaine is high enough, (according to the literall sense,) to shew him one whole hemisphere. what then can be the meaning of this place, other than that he went of himself into the wildernesse; and that this carrying of him up and down, from the wildernesse to the city, and from thence into a mountain, was a vision? conformable whereunto, is also the phrase of st. luke, that hee was led into the wildernesse, not by, but in the spirit: whereas concerning his being taken up into the mountaine, and unto the pinnacle of the temple, hee speaketh as st. matthew doth. which suiteth with the nature of a vision. again, where st. luke sayes of judas iscariot, that "satan entred into him, and thereupon that he went and communed with the chief priests, and captaines, how he might betray christ unto them:" it may be answered, that by the entring of satan (that is the enemy) into him, is meant, the hostile and traiterous intention of selling his lord and master. for as by the holy ghost, is frequently in scripture understood, the graces and good inclinations given by the holy ghost; so by the entring of satan, may bee understood the wicked cogitations, and designes of the adversaries of christ, and his disciples. for as it is hard to say, that the devill was entred into judas, before he had any such hostile designe; so it is impertinent to say, he was first christs enemy in his heart, and that the devill entred into him afterwards. therefore the entring of satan, and his wicked purpose, was one and the same thing. but if there be no immateriall spirit, nor any possession of mens bodies by any spirit corporeall, it may again be asked, why our saviour and his apostles did not teach the people so; and in such cleer words, as they might no more doubt thereof. but such questions as these, are more curious, than necessary for a christian mans salvation. men may as well aske, why christ that could have given to all men faith, piety, and all manner of morall vertues, gave it to some onely, and not to all: and why he left the search of naturall causes, and sciences, to the naturall reason and industry of men, and did not reveal it to all, or any man supernaturally; and many other such questions: of which neverthelesse there may be alledged probable and pious reasons. for as god, when he brought the israelites into the land of promise, did not secure them therein, by subduing all the nations round about them; but left many of them, as thornes in their sides, to awaken from time to time their piety and industry: so our saviour, in conducting us toward his heavenly kingdome, did not destroy all the difficulties of naturall questions; but left them to exercise our industry, and reason; the scope of his preaching, being onely to shew us this plain and direct way to salvation, namely, the beleef of this article, "that he was the christ, the son of the living god, sent into the world to sacrifice himselfe for our sins, and at his comming again, gloriously to reign over his elect, and to save them from their enemies eternally:" to which, the opinion of possession by spirits, or phantasmes, are no impediment in the way; though it be to some an occasion of going out of the way, and to follow their own inventions. if wee require of the scripture an account of all questions, which may be raised to trouble us in the performance of gods commands; we may as well complaine of moses for not having set downe the time of the creation of such spirits, as well as of the creation of the earth, and sea, and of men, and beasts. to conclude, i find in scripture that there be angels, and spirits, good and evill; but not that they are incorporeall, as are the apparitions men see in the dark, or in a dream, or vision; which the latines call spectra, and took for daemons. and i find that there are spirits corporeal, (though subtile and invisible;) but not that any mans body was possessed, or inhabited by them; and that the bodies of the saints shall be such, namely, spirituall bodies, as st. paul calls them. the power of casting out devills, not the same it was in the primitive church neverthelesse, the contrary doctrine, namely, that there be incorporeall spirits, hath hitherto so prevailed in the church, that the use of exorcisme, (that is to say, of ejection of devills by conjuration) is thereupon built; and (though rarely and faintly practised) is not yet totally given over. that there were many daemoniaques in the primitive church, and few mad-men, and other such singular diseases; whereas in these times we hear of, and see many mad-men, and few daemoniaques, proceeds not from the change of nature; but of names. but how it comes to passe, that whereas heretofore the apostles, and after them for a time, the pastors of the church, did cure those singular diseases, which now they are not seen to doe; as likewise, why it is not in the power of every true beleever now, to doe all that the faithfull did then, that is to say, as we read (mark . .) "in christs name to cast out devills, to speak with new tongues, to take up serpents, to drink deadly poison without harm taking, and to cure the sick by the laying on of their hands," and all this without other words, but "in the name of jesus," is another question. and it is probable, that those extraordinary gifts were given to the church, for no longer a time, than men trusted wholly to christ, and looked for their felicity onely in his kingdome to come; and consequently, that when they sought authority, and riches, and trusted to their own subtilty for a kingdome of this world, these supernaturall gifts of god were again taken from them. another relique of gentilisme, worshipping images, left in the church not brought into it another relique of gentilisme, is the worship of images, neither instituted by moses in the old, nor by christ in the new testament; nor yet brought in from the gentiles; but left amongst them, after they had given their names to christ. before our saviour preached, it was the generall religion of the gentiles, to worship for gods, those apparences that remain in the brain from the impression of externall bodies upon the organs of their senses, which are commonly called ideas, idols, phantasmes, conceits, as being representations of those externall bodies, which cause them, and have nothing in them of reality, no more than there is in the things that seem to stand before us in a dream: and this is the reason why st. paul says, "wee know that an idol is nothing:" not that he thought that an image of metall, stone, or wood, was nothing; but that the thing which they honored, or feared in the image, and held for a god, was a meer figment, without place, habitation, motion, or existence, but in the motions of the brain. and the worship of these with divine honour, is that which is in the scripture called idolatry, and rebellion against god. for god being king of the jews, and his lieutenant being first moses, and afterward the high priest; if the people had been permitted to worship, and pray to images, (which are representations of their own fancies,) they had had no farther dependence on the true god, of whom there can be no similitude; nor on his prime ministers, moses, and the high priests; but every man had governed himself according to his own appetite, to the utter eversion of the common-wealth, and their own destruction for want of union. and therefore the first law of god was, "they should not take for gods, alienos deos, that is, the gods of other nations, but that onely true god, who vouchsafed to commune with moses, and by him to give them laws and directions, for their peace, and for their salvation from their enemies." and the second was, that "they should not make to themselves any image to worship, of their own invention." for it is the same deposing of a king, to submit to another king, whether he be set up by a neighbour nation, or by our selves. answer to certain seeming texts for images the places of scripture pretended to countenance the setting up of images, to worship them; or to set them up at all in the places where god is worshipped, are first, two examples; one of the cherubins over the ark of god; the other of the brazen serpent: secondly, some texts whereby we are commanded to worship certain creatures for their relation to god; as to worship his footstool: and lastly, some other texts, by which is authorized, a religious honoring of holy things. but before i examine the force of those places, to prove that which is pretended, i must first explain what is to be understood by worshipping, and what by images, and idols. what is worship i have already shewn in the chapter of this discourse, that to honor, is to value highly the power of any person: and that such value is measured, by our comparing him with others. but because there is nothing to be compared with god in power; we honor him not but dishonour him by any value lesse than infinite. and thus honor is properly of its own nature, secret, and internall in the heart. but the inward thoughts of men, which appeare outwardly in their words and actions, are the signes of our honoring, and these goe by the name of worship, in latine, cultus. therefore, to pray to, to swear by, to obey, to bee diligent, and officious in serving: in summe, all words and actions that betoken fear to offend, or desire to please, is worship, whether those words and actions be sincere, or feigned: and because they appear as signes of honoring, are ordinarily also called honor. distinction between divine and civill worship the worship we exhibite to those we esteem to be but men, as to kings, and men in authority, is civill worship: but the worship we exhibite to that which we think to bee god, whatsoever the words, ceremonies, gestures, or other actions be, is divine worship. to fall prostrate before a king, in him that thinks him but a man, is but civill worship: and he that but putteth off his hat in the church, for this cause, that he thinketh it the house of god, worshippeth with divine worship. they that seek the distinction of divine and civill worship, not in the intention of the worshipper, but in the words douleia, and latreia, deceive themselves. for whereas there be two sorts of servants; that sort, which is of those that are absolutely in the power of their masters, as slaves taken in war, and their issue, whose bodies are not in their own power, (their lives depending on the will of their masters, in such manner as to forfeit them upon the least disobedience,) and that are bought and sold as beasts, were called douloi, that is properly, slaves, and their service, douleia: the other, which is of those that serve (for hire, or in hope of benefit from their masters) voluntarily; are called thetes; that is, domestique servants; to whose service the masters have no further right, than is contained in the covenants made betwixt them. these two kinds of servants have thus much common to them both, that their labour is appointed them by another, whether, as a slave, or a voluntary servant: and the word latris, is the general name of both, signifying him that worketh for another, whether, as a slave, or a voluntary servant: so that latreia signifieth generally all service; but douleia the service of bondmen onely, and the condition of slavery: and both are used in scripture (to signifie our service of god) promiscuously. douleia, because we are gods slaves; latreia, because wee serve him: and in all kinds of service is contained, not onely obedience, but also worship, that is, such actions, gestures, and words, as signifie honor. an image what phantasmes an image (in the most strict signification of the word) is the resemblance of some thing visible: in which sense the phantasticall formes, apparitions, or seemings of visible bodies to the sight, are onely images; such as are the shew of a man, or other thing in the water, by reflexion, or refraction; or of the sun, or stars by direct vision in the air; which are nothing reall in the things seen, nor in the place where thy seem to bee; nor are their magnitudes and figures the same with that of the object; but changeable, by the variation of the organs of sight, or by glasses; and are present oftentimes in our imagination, and in our dreams, when the object is absent; or changed into other colours, and shapes, as things that depend onely upon the fancy. and these are the images which are originally and most properly called ideas, and idols, and derived from the language of the graecians, with whom the word eido signifieth to see. they are also called phantasmes, which is in the same language, apparitions. and from these images it is that one of the faculties of mans nature, is called the imagination. and from hence it is manifest, that there neither is, nor can bee any image made of a thing invisible. it is also evident, that there can be no image of a thing infinite: for all the images, and phantasmes that are made by the impression of things visible, are figured: but figure is a quantity every way determined: and therefore there can bee no image of god: nor of the soule of man; nor of spirits, but onely of bodies visible, that is, bodies that have light in themselves, or are by such enlightened. fictions; materiall images and whereas a man can fancy shapes he never saw; making up a figure out of the parts of divers creatures; as the poets make their centaures, chimaeras, and other monsters never seen: so can he also give matter to those shapes, and make them in wood, clay or metall. and these are also called images, not for the resemblance of any corporeall thing, but for the resemblance of some phantasticall inhabitants of the brain of the maker. but in these idols, as they are originally in the brain, and as they are painted, carved, moulded, or moulten in matter, there is a similitude of the one to the other, for which the materiall body made by art, may be said to be the image of the phantasticall idoll made by nature. but in a larger use of the word image, is contained also, any representation of one thing by another. so an earthly soveraign may be called the image of god: and an inferiour magistrate the image of an earthly soveraign. and many times in the idolatry of the gentiles there was little regard to the similitude of their materiall idoll to the idol in their fancy, and yet it was called the image of it. for a stone unhewn has been set up for neptune, and divers other shapes far different from the shapes they conceived of their gods. and at this day we see many images of the virgin mary, and other saints, unlike one another, and without correspondence to any one mans fancy; and yet serve well enough for the purpose they were erected for; which was no more but by the names onely, to represent the persons mentioned in the history; to which every man applyeth a mentall image of his owne making, or none at all. and thus an image in the largest sense, is either the resemblance, or the representation of some thing visible; or both together, as it happeneth for the most part. but the name of idoll is extended yet further in scripture, to signifie also the sunne, or a starre, or any other creature, visible or invisible, when they are worshipped for gods. idolatry what having shewn what is worship, and what an image; i will now put them together, and examine what that idolatry is, which is forbidden in the second commandement, and other places of the scripture. to worship an image, is voluntarily to doe those externall acts, which are signes of honoring either the matter of the image, which is wood, stone, or metall, or some other visible creature; or the phantasme of the brain, for the resemblance, or representation whereof, the matter was formed and figured; or both together, as one animate body, composed of the matter and the phantasme, as of a body and soule. to be uncovered, before a man of power and authority, or before the throne of a prince, or in such other places as hee ordaineth to that purpose in his absence, is to worship that man, or prince with civill worship; as being a signe, not of honoring the stoole, or place, but the person; and is not idolatry. but if hee that doth it, should suppose the soule of the prince to be in the stool, or should present a petition to the stool, it were divine worship, and idolatry. to pray to a king for such things, as hee is able to doe for us, though we prostrate our selves before him, is but civill worship; because we acknowledge no other power in him, but humane: but voluntarily to pray unto him for fair weather, or for any thing which god onely can doe for us, is divine worship, and idolatry. on the other side, if a king compell a man to it by the terrour of death, or other great corporall punishment, it is not idolatry: for the worship which the soveraign commandeth to bee done unto himself by the terrour of his laws, is not a sign that he that obeyeth him, does inwardly honour him as a god, but that he is desirous to save himselfe from death, or from a miserable life; and that which is not a sign of internall honor, is no worship; and therefore no idolatry. neither can it bee said, that hee that does it, scandalizeth, or layeth any stumbling block before his brother; because how wise, or learned soever he be that worshippeth in that manner, another man cannot from thence argue, that he approveth it; but that he doth it for fear; and that it is not his act, but the act of the soveraign. to worship god, in some peculiar place, or turning a mans face towards an image, or determinate place, is not to worship, or honor the place, or image; but to acknowledge it holy, that is to say, to acknowledge the image, or the place to be set apart from common use: for that is the meaning of the word holy; which implies no new quality in the place, or image; but onely a new relation by appropriation to god; and therefore is not idolatry; no more than it was idolatry to worship god before the brazen serpent; or for the jews when they were out of their owne countrey, to turn their faces (when they prayed) toward the temple of jerusalem; or for moses to put off his shoes when he was before the flaming bush, the ground appertaining to mount sinai; which place god had chosen to appear in, and to give his laws to the people of israel, and was therefore holy ground, not by inhaerent sanctity, but by separation to gods use; or for christians to worship in the churches, which are once solemnly dedicated to god for that purpose, by the authority of the king, or other true representant of the church. but to worship god, is inanimating, or inhibiting, such image, or place; that is to say, an infinite substance in a finite place, is idolatry: for such finite gods, are but idols of the brain, nothing reall; and are commonly called in the scripture by the names of vanity, and lyes, and nothing. also to worship god, not as inanimating, or present in the place, or image; but to the end to be put in mind of him, or of some works of his, in case the place, or image be dedicated, or set up by private authority, and not by the authority of them that are our soveraign pastors, is idolatry. for the commandement is, "thou shalt not make to thy selfe any graven image." god commanded moses to set up the brazen serpent; hee did not make it to himselfe; it was not therefore against the commandement. but the making of the golden calfe by aaron, and the people, as being done without authority from god, was idolatry; not onely because they held it for god, but also because they made it for a religious use, without warrant either from god their soveraign, or from moses, that was his lieutenant. the gentiles worshipped for gods, jupiter, and others; that living, were men perhaps that had done great and glorious acts; and for the children of god, divers men and women, supposing them gotten between an immortall deity, and a mortall man. this was idolatry, because they made them so to themselves, having no authority from god, neither in his eternall law of reason, nor in his positive and revealed will. but though our saviour was a man, whom wee also beleeve to bee god immortall, and the son of god; yet this is no idolatry; because wee build not that beleef upon our own fancy, or judgment, but upon the word of god revealed in the scriptures. and for the adoration of the eucharist, if the words of christ, "this is my body," signifie, "that he himselfe, and the seeming bread in his hand; and not onely so, but that all the seeming morsells of bread that have ever since been, and any time hereafter shall bee consecrated by priests, bee so many christs bodies, and yet all of them but one body," then is that no idolatry, because it is authorized by our saviour: but if that text doe not signifie that, (for there is no other that can be alledged for it,) then, because it is a worship of humane institution, it is idolatry. for it is not enough to say, god can transubstantiate the bread into christs body: for the gentiles also held god to be omnipotent; and might upon that ground no lesse excuse their idolatry, by pretending, as well as others, as transubstantiation of their wood, and stone into god almighty. whereas there be, that pretend divine inspiration, to be a supernaturall entring of the holy ghost into a man, and not an acquisition of gods grace, by doctrine, and study; i think they are in a very dangerous dilemma. for if they worship not the men whom they beleeve to be so inspired, they fall into impiety; as not adoring gods supernaturall presence. and again, if they worship them, they commit idolatry; for the apostles would never permit themselves to be so worshipped. therefore the safest way is to beleeve, that by the descending of the dove upon the apostles; and by christs breathing on them, when hee gave them the holy ghost; and by the giving of it by imposition of hands, are understood the signes which god hath been pleased to use, or ordain to be used, of his promise to assist those persons in their study to preach his kingdome, and in their conversation, that it might not be scandalous, but edifying to others. scandalous worship of images besides the idolatrous worship of images, there is also a scandalous worship of them; which is also a sin; but not idolatry. for idolatry is to worship by signes of an internall, and reall honour: but scandalous worship, is but seeming worship; and may sometimes bee joined with an inward, and hearty detestation, both of the image, and of the phantasticall daemon, or idol, to which it is dedicated; and proceed onely from the fear of death, or other grievous punishment; and is neverthelesse a sin in them that so worship, in case they be men whose actions are looked at by others, as lights to guide them by; because following their ways, they cannot but stumble, and fall in the way of religion: whereas the example of those we regard not, works not on us at all, but leaves us to our own diligence and caution; and consequently are no causes of our falling. if therefore a pastor lawfully called to teach and direct others, or any other, of whose knowledge there is a great opinion, doe externall honor to an idol for fear; unlesse he make his feare, and unwillingnesse to it, as evident as the worship; he scandalizeth his brother, by seeming to approve idolatry. for his brother, arguing from the action of his teacher, or of him whose knowledge he esteemeth great, concludes it to bee lawfull in it selfe. and this scandall, is sin, and a scandall given. but if one being no pastor, nor of eminent reputation for knowledge in christian doctrine, doe the same, and another follow him; this is no scandall given; for he had no cause to follow such example: but is a pretence of scandall which hee taketh of himselfe for an excuse before men: for an unlearned man, that is in the power of an idolatrous king, or state, if commanded on pain of death to worship before an idoll, hee detesteth the idoll in his heart, hee doth well; though if he had the fortitude to suffer death, rather than worship it, he should doe better. but if a pastor, who as christs messenger, has undertaken to teach christs doctrine to all nations, should doe the same, it were not onely a sinfull scandall, in respect of other christian mens consciences, but a perfidious forsaking of his charge. the summe of that which i have said hitherto, concerning the worship of images, is that, that he that worshippeth in an image, or any creature, either the matter thereof, or any fancy of his own, which he thinketh to dwell in it; or both together; or beleeveth that such things hear his prayers, or see his devotions, without ears, or eyes, committeth idolatry: and he that counterfeiteth such worship for fear of punishment, if he bee a man whose example hath power amongst his brethren, committeth a sin: but he that worshippeth the creator of the world before such an image, or in such a place as he hath not made, or chosen of himselfe, but taken from the commandement of gods word, as the jewes did in worshipping god before the cherubins, and before the brazen serpent for a time, and in, or towards the temple of jerusalem, which was also but for a time, committeth not idolatry. now for the worship of saints, and images, and reliques, and other things at this day practised in the church of rome, i say they are not allowed by the word of god, not brought into the church of rome, from the doctrine there taught; but partly left in it at the first conversion of the gentiles; and afterwards countenanced, and confirmed, and augmented by the bishops of rome. answer to the argument from the cherubins, and brazen serpent as for the proofs alledged out of scripture, namely, those examples of images appointed by god to bee set up; they were not set up for the people, or any man to worship; but that they should worship god himselfe before them: as before the cherubins over the ark, and the brazen serpent. for we read not, that the priest, or any other did worship the cherubins; but contrarily wee read ( kings . .) that hezekiah brake in pieces the brazen serpent which moses had set up, because the people burnt incense to it. besides, those examples are not put for our imitation, that we also should set up images, under pretence of worshipping god before them; because the words of the second commandement, "thou shalt not make to thy selfe any graven image, &c." distinguish between the images that god commanded to be set up, and those which wee set up to our selves. and therefore from the cherubins, or brazen serpent, to the images of mans devising; and from the worship commanded by god, to the will-worship of men, the argument is not good. this also is to bee considered, that as hezekiah brake in pieces the brazen serpent, because the jews did worship it, to the end they should doe so no more; so also christian soveraigns ought to break down the images which their subjects have been accustomed to worship; that there be no more occasion of such idolatry. for at this day, the ignorant people, where images are worshipped, doe really beleeve there is a divine power in the images; and are told by their pastors, that some of them have spoken; and have bled; and that miracles have been done by them; which they apprehend as done by the saint, which they think either is the image it self, or in it. the israelites, when they worshipped the calfe, did think they worshipped the god that brought them out of egypt; and yet it was idolatry, because they thought the calfe either was that god, or had him in his belly. and though some man may think it impossible for people to be so stupid, as to think the image to be god, or a saint; or to worship it in that notion; yet it is manifest in scripture to the contrary; where when the golden calfe was made, the people said, (exod. . .) "these are thy gods o israel;" and where the images of laban (gen. . .) are called his gods. and wee see daily by experience in all sorts of people, that such men as study nothing but their food and ease, are content to beleeve any absurdity, rather than to trouble themselves to examine it; holding their faith as it were by entaile unalienable, except by an expresse and new law. painting of fancies no idolatry: abusing them to religious worship is but they inferre from some other places, that it is lawfull to paint angels, and also god himselfe: as from gods walking in the garden; from jacobs seeing god at the top of the ladder; and from other visions, and dreams. but visions, and dreams whether naturall, or supernaturall, are but phantasmes: and he that painteth an image of any of them, maketh not an image of god, but of his own phantasm, which is, making of an idol. i say not, that to draw a picture after a fancy, is a sin; but when it is drawn, to hold it for a representation of god, is against the second commandement; and can be of no use, but to worship. and the same may be said of the images of angels, and of men dead; unlesse as monuments of friends, or of men worthy remembrance: for such use of an image, is not worship of the image; but a civill honoring of the person, not that is, but that was: but when it is done to the image which we make of a saint, for no other reason, but that we think he heareth our prayers, and is pleased with the honour wee doe him, when dead, and without sense, wee attribute to him more than humane power; and therefore it is idolatry. seeing therefore there is no authority, neither in the law of moses, nor in the gospel, for the religious worship of images, or other representations of god, which men set up to themselves; or for the worship of the image of any creature in heaven, or earth, or under the earth: and whereas christian kings, who are living representants of god, are not to be worshipped by their subjects, by any act, that signifieth a greater esteem of his power, than the nature of mortall man is capable of; it cannot be imagined, that the religious worship now in use, was brought into the church, by misunderstanding of the scripture. it resteth therefore, that it was left in it, by not destroying the images themselves, in the conversion of the gentiles that worshipped them. how idolatry was left in the church the cause whereof, was the immoderate esteem, and prices set upon the workmanship of them, which made the owners (though converted, from worshipping them as they had done religiously for daemons) to retain them still in their houses, upon pretence of doing it in the honor of christ, of the virgin mary, and of the apostles, and other the pastors of the primitive church; as being easie, by giving them new names, to make that an image of the virgin mary, and of her sonne our saviour, which before perhaps was called the image of venus, and cupid; and so of a jupiter to make a barnabas, and of mercury a paul, and the like. and as worldly ambition creeping by degrees into the pastors, drew them to an endeavour of pleasing the new made christians; and also to a liking of this kind of honour, which they also might hope for after their decease, as well as those that had already gained it: so the worshipping of the images of christ and his apostles, grow more and more idolatrous; save that somewhat after the time of constantine, divers emperors, and bishops, and generall councells observed, and opposed the unlawfulnesse thereof; but too late, or too weakly. canonizing of saints the canonizing of saints, is another relique of gentilisme: it is neither a misunderstanding of scripture, nor a new invention of the roman church, but a custome as ancient as the common-wealth of rome it self. the first that ever was canonized at rome, was romulus, and that upon the narration of julius proculus, that swore before the senate, he spake with him after his death, and was assured by him, he dwelt in heaven, and was there called quirinius, and would be propitious to the state of their new city: and thereupon the senate gave publique testimony of his sanctity. julius caesar, and other emperors after him, had the like testimony; that is, were canonized for saints; now defined; and is the same with the apotheosis of the heathen. the name of pontifex it is also from the roman heathen, that the popes have received the name, and power of pontifex maximus. this was the name of him that in the ancient common-wealth of rome, had the supreme authority under the senate and people, of regulating all ceremonies, and doctrines concerning their religion: and when augustus caesar changed the state into a monarchy, he took to himselfe no more but this office, and that of tribune of the people, (than is to say, the supreme power both in state, and religion;) and the succeeding emperors enjoyed the same. but when the emperour constantine lived, who was the first that professed and authorized christian religion, it was consonant to his profession, to cause religion to be regulated (under his authority) by the bishop of rome: though it doe not appear they had so soon the name of pontifex; but rather, that the succeeding bishops took it of themselves, to countenance the power they exercised over the bishops of the roman provinces. for it is not any priviledge of st. peter, but the priviledge of the city of rome, which the emperors were alwaies willing to uphold; that gave them such authority over other bishops; as may be evidently seen by that, that the bishop of constantinople, when the emperour made that city the seat of the empire, pretended to bee equall to the bishop of rome; though at last, not without contention, the pope carryed it, and became the pontifex maximus; but in right onely of the emperour; and not without the bounds of the empire; nor any where, after the emperour had lost his power in rome; though it were the pope himself that took his power from him. from whence wee may by the way observe, that there is no place for the superiority of the pope over other bishops, except in the territories whereof he is himself the civill soveraign; and where the emperour having soveraign power civill, hath expressely chosen the pope for the chief pastor under himselfe, of his christian subjects. procession of images the carrying about of images in procession, is another relique of the religion of the greeks, and romans: for they also carried their idols from place to place, in a kind of chariot, which was peculiarly dedicated to that use, which the latines called thensa, and vehiculum deorum; and the image was placed in a frame, or shrine, which they called ferculum: and that which they called pompa, is the same that now is named procession: according whereunto, amongst the divine honors which were given to julius caesar by the senate, this was one, that in the pompe (or procession) at the circaean games, he should have thensam & ferculum, a sacred chariot, and a shrine; which was as much, as to be carried up and down as a god: just as at this day the popes are carried by switzers under a canopie. wax candles, and torches lighted to these processions also belonged the bearing of burning torches, and candles, before the images of the gods, both amongst the greeks, and romans. for afterwards the emperors of rome received the same honor; as we read of caligula, that at his reception to the empire, he was carried from misenum to rome, in the midst of a throng of people, the wayes beset with altars, and beasts for sacrifice, and burning torches: and of caracalla that was received into alexandria with incense, and with casting of flowers, and dadouchiais, that is, with torches; for dadochoi were they that amongst the greeks carried torches lighted in the processions of their gods: and in processe of time, the devout, but ignorant people, did many times honor their bishops with the like pompe of wax candles, and the images of our saviour, and the saints, constantly, in the church it self. and thus came in the use of wax candles; and was also established by some of the ancient councells. the heathens had also their aqua lustralis, that is to say, holy water. the church of rome imitates them also in their holy dayes. they had their bacchanalia; and we have our wakes, answering to them: they their saturnalia, and we our carnevalls, and shrove-tuesdays liberty of servants: they their procession of priapus; wee our fetching in, erection, and dancing about may-poles; and dancing is one kind of worship: they had their procession called ambarvalia; and we our procession about the fields in the rogation week. nor do i think that these are all the ceremonies that have been left in the church, from the first conversion of the gentiles: but they are all that i can for the present call to mind; and if a man would wel observe that which is delivered in the histories, concerning the religious rites of the greeks and romanes, i doubt not but he might find many more of these old empty bottles of gentilisme, which the doctors of the romane church, either by negligence, or ambition, have filled up again with the new wine of christianity, that will not faile in time to break them. chapter xlvi. of darknesse from vain philosophy, and fabulous traditions what philosophy is by philosophy is understood "the knowledge acquired by reasoning, from the manner of the generation of any thing, to the properties; or from the properties, to some possible way of generation of the same; to the end to bee able to produce, as far as matter, and humane force permit, such effects, as humane life requireth." so the geometrician, from the construction of figures, findeth out many properties thereof; and from the properties, new ways of their construction, by reasoning; to the end to be able to measure land and water; and for infinite other uses. so the astronomer, from the rising, setting, and moving of the sun, and starres, in divers parts of the heavens, findeth out the causes of day, and night, and of the different seasons of the year; whereby he keepeth an account of time: and the like of other sciences. prudence no part of philosophy by which definition it is evident, that we are not to account as any part thereof, that originall knowledge called experience, in which consisteth prudence: because it is not attained by reasoning, but found as well in brute beasts, as in man; and is but a memory of successions of events in times past, wherein the omission of every little circumstance altering the effect, frustrateth the expectation of the most prudent: whereas nothing is produced by reasoning aright, but generall, eternall, and immutable truth. no false doctrine is part of philosophy nor are we therefore to give that name to any false conclusions: for he that reasoneth aright in words he understandeth, can never conclude an error: no more is revelation supernaturall nor to that which any man knows by supernaturall revelation; because it is not acquired by reasoning: nor learning taken upon credit of authors nor that which is gotten by reasoning from the authority of books; because it is not by reasoning from the cause to the effect, nor from the effect to the cause; and is not knowledge, but faith. of the beginnings and progresse of philosophy the faculty of reasoning being consequent to the use of speech, it was not possible, but that there should have been some generall truthes found out by reasoning, as ancient almost as language it selfe. the savages of america, are not without some good morall sentences; also they have a little arithmetick, to adde, and divide in numbers not too great: but they are not therefore philosophers. for as there were plants of corn and wine in small quantity dispersed in the fields and woods, before men knew their vertue, or made use of them for their nourishment, or planted them apart in fields, and vineyards; in which time they fed on akorns, and drank water: so also there have been divers true, generall, and profitable speculations from the beginning; as being the naturall plants of humane reason: but they were at first but few in number; men lived upon grosse experience; there was no method; that is to say, no sowing, nor planting of knowledge by it self, apart from the weeds, and common plants of errour and conjecture: and the cause of it being the want of leasure from procuring the necessities of life, and defending themselves against their neighbours, it was impossible, till the erecting of great common-wealths, it should be otherwise. leasure is the mother of philosophy; and common-wealth, the mother of peace, and leasure: where first were great and flourishing cities, there was first the study of philosophy. the gymnosophists of india, the magi of persia, and the priests of chaldea and egypt, are counted the most ancient philosophers; and those countreys were the most ancient of kingdomes. philosophy was not risen to the graecians, and other people of the west, whose common-wealths (no greater perhaps then lucca, or geneva) had never peace, but when their fears of one another were equall; nor the leasure to observe any thing but one another. at length, when warre had united many of these graecian lesser cities, into fewer, and greater; then began seven men, of severall parts of greece, to get the reputation of being wise; some of them for morall and politique sentences; and others for the learning of the chaldeans and egyptians, which was astronomy, and geometry. but we hear not yet of any schools of philosophy. of the schools of philosophy amongst the athenians after the athenians by the overthrow of the persian armies, had gotten the dominion of the sea; and thereby, of all the islands, and maritime cities of the archipelago, as well of asia as europe; and were grown wealthy; they that had no employment, neither at home, nor abroad, had little else to employ themselves in, but either (as st. luke says, acts . .) "in telling and hearing news," or in discoursing of philosophy publiquely to the youth of the city. every master took some place for that purpose. plato in certaine publique walks called academia, from one academus: aristotle in the walk of the temple of pan, called lycaeum: others in the stoa, or covered walk, wherein the merchants goods were brought to land: others in other places; where they spent the time of their leasure, in teaching or in disputing of their opinions: and some in any place, where they could get the youth of the city together to hear them talk. and this was it which carneades also did at rome, when he was ambassadour: which caused cato to advise the senate to dispatch him quickly, for feare of corrupting the manners of the young men that delighted to hear him speak (as they thought) fine things. from this it was, that the place where any of them taught, and disputed, was called schola, which in their tongue signifieth leasure; and their disputations, diatribae, that is to say, passing of the time. also the philosophers themselves had the name of their sects, some of them from these their schools: for they that followed plato's doctrine, were called academiques; the followers of aristotle, peripatetiques, from the walk hee taught in; and those that zeno taught, stoiques, from the stoa: as if we should denominate men from more-fields, from pauls-church, and from the exchange, because they meet there often, to prate and loyter. neverthelesse, men were so much taken with this custome, that in time it spread it selfe over all europe, and the best part of afrique; so as there were schools publiquely erected, and maintained for lectures, and disputations, almost in every common-wealth. of the schools of the jews there were also schools, anciently, both before, and after the time of our saviour, amongst the jews: but they were schools of their law. for though they were called synagogues, that is to say, congregations of the people; yet in as much as the law was every sabbath day read, expounded, and disputed in them, they differed not in nature, but in name onely from publique schools; and were not onely in jerusalem, but in every city of the gentiles, where the jews inhabited. there was such a schoole at damascus, whereinto paul entred, to persecute. there were others at antioch, iconium and thessalonica, whereinto he entred, to dispute: and such was the synagogue of the libertines, cyrenians, alexandrians, cilicians, and those of asia; that is to say, the schoole of libertines, and of jewes, that were strangers in jerusalem: and of this schoole they were that disputed with saint steven. the schoole of graecians unprofitable but what has been the utility of those schools? what science is there at this day acquired by their readings and disputings? that wee have of geometry, which is the mother of all naturall science, wee are not indebted for it to the schools. plato that was the best philosopher of the greeks, forbad entrance into his schoole, to all that were not already in some measure geometricians. there were many that studied that science to the great advantage of mankind: but there is no mention of their schools; nor was there any sect of geometricians; nor did they then passe under the name of philosophers. the naturall philosophy of those schools, was rather a dream than science, and set forth in senselesse and insignificant language; which cannot be avoided by those that will teach philosophy, without having first attained great knowledge in geometry: for nature worketh by motion; the wayes, and degrees whereof cannot be known, without the knowledge of the proportions and properties of lines, and figures. their morall philosophy is but a description of their own passions. for the rule of manners, without civill government, is the law of nature; and in it, the law civill; that determineth what is honest, and dishonest; what is just, and unjust; and generally what is good, and evill: whereas they make the rules of good, and bad, by their own liking, and disliking: by which means, in so great diversity of taste, there is nothing generally agreed on; but every one doth (as far as he dares) whatsoever seemeth good in his own eyes, to the subversion of common-wealth. their logique which should bee the method of reasoning, is nothing else but captions of words, and inventions how to puzzle such as should goe about to pose them. to conclude there is nothing so absurd, that the old philosophers (as cicero saith, who was one of them) have not some of them maintained. and i beleeve that scarce any thing can be more absurdly said in naturall philosophy, than that which now is called aristotles metaphysiques, nor more repugnant to government, than much of that hee hath said in his politiques; nor more ignorantly, than a great part of his ethiques. the schools of the jews unprofitable the schoole of the jews, was originally a schoole of the law of moses; who commanded (deut. . .) that at the end of every seventh year, at the feast of the tabernacles, it should be read to all the people, that they might hear, and learn it: therefore the reading of the law (which was in use after the captivity) every sabbath day, ought to have had no other end, but the acquainting of the people with the commandements which they were to obey, and to expound unto them the writings of the prophets. but it is manifest, by the many reprehensions of them by our saviour, that they corrupted the text of the law with their false commentaries, and vain traditions; and so little understood the prophets, that they did neither acknowledge christ, nor the works he did; for which the prophets prophecyed. so that by their lectures and disputations in their synagogues, they turned the doctrine of their law into a phantasticall kind of philosophy, concerning the incomprehensible nature of god, and of spirits; which they compounded of the vain philosophy and theology of the graecians, mingled with their own fancies, drawn from the obscurer places of the scripture, and which might most easily bee wrested to their purpose; and from the fabulous traditions of their ancestors. university what it is that which is now called an university, is a joyning together, and an incorporation under one government of many publique schools, in one and the same town or city. in which, the principal schools were ordained for the three professions, that is to say, of the romane religion, of the romane law, and of the art of medicine. and for the study of philosophy it hath no otherwise place, then as a handmaid to the romane religion: and since the authority of aristotle is onely current there, that study is not properly philosophy, (the nature whereof dependeth not on authors,) but aristotelity. and for geometry, till of very late times it had no place at all; as being subservient to nothing but rigide truth. and if any man by the ingenuity of his owne nature, had attained to any degree of perfection therein, hee was commonly thought a magician, and his art diabolicall. errors brought into religion from aristotles metaphysiques now to descend to the particular tenets of vain philosophy, derived to the universities, and thence into the church, partly from aristotle, partly from blindnesse of understanding; i shall first consider their principles. there is a certain philosophia prima, on which all other philosophy ought to depend; and consisteth principally, in right limiting of the significations of such appellations, or names, as are of all others the most universall: which limitations serve to avoid ambiguity, and aequivocation in reasoning; and are commonly called definitions; such as are the definitions of body, time, place, matter, forme, essence, subject, substance, accident, power, act, finite, infinite, quantity, quality, motion, action, passion, and divers others, necessary to the explaining of a mans conceptions concerning the nature and generation of bodies. the explication (that is, the setling of the meaning) of which, and the like terms, is commonly in the schools called metaphysiques; as being a part of the philosophy of aristotle, which hath that for title: but it is in another sense; for there it signifieth as much, as "books written, or placed after his naturall philosophy:" but the schools take them for books of supernaturall philosophy: for the word metaphysiques will bear both these senses. and indeed that which is there written, is for the most part so far from the possibility of being understood, and so repugnant to naturall reason, that whosoever thinketh there is any thing to bee understood by it, must needs think it supernaturall. errors concerning abstract essences from these metaphysiques, which are mingled with the scripture to make schoole divinity, wee are told, there be in the world certaine essences separated from bodies, which they call abstract essences, and substantiall formes: for the interpreting of which jargon, there is need of somewhat more than ordinary attention in this place. also i ask pardon of those that are not used to this kind of discourse, for applying my selfe to those that are. the world, (i mean not the earth onely, that denominates the lovers of it worldly men, but the universe, that is, the whole masse of all things that are) is corporeall, that is to say, body; and hath the dimensions of magnitude, namely, length, bredth, and depth: also every part of body, is likewise body, and hath the like dimensions; and consequently every part of the universe, is body, and that which is not body, is no part of the universe: and because the universe is all, that which is no part of it, is nothing; and consequently no where. nor does it follow from hence, that spirits are nothing: for they have dimensions, and are therefore really bodies; though that name in common speech be given to such bodies onely, as are visible, or palpable; that is, that have some degree of opacity: but for spirits, they call them incorporeall; which is a name of more honour, and may therefore with more piety bee attributed to god himselfe; in whom wee consider not what attribute expresseth best his nature, which is incomprehensible; but what best expresseth our desire to honour him. to know now upon what grounds they say there be essences abstract, or substantiall formes, wee are to consider what those words do properly signifie. the use of words, is to register to our selves, and make manifest to others the thoughts and conceptions of our minds. of which words, some are the names of the things conceived; as the names of all sorts of bodies, that work upon the senses, and leave an impression in the imagination: others are the names of the imaginations themselves; that is to say, of those ideas, or mentall images we have of all things wee see, or remember: and others againe are names of names; or of different sorts of speech: as universall, plurall, singular, negation, true, false, syllogisme, interrogation, promise, covenant, are the names of certain forms of speech. others serve to shew the consequence, or repugnance of one name to another; as when one saith, "a man is a body," hee intendeth that the name of body is necessarily consequent to the name of man; as being but severall names of the same thing, man; which consequence is signified by coupling them together with the word is. and as wee use the verbe is; so the latines use their verbe est, and the greeks their esti through all its declinations. whether all other nations of the world have in their severall languages a word that answereth to it, or not, i cannot tell; but i am sure they have not need of it: for the placing of two names in order may serve to signifie their consequence, if it were the custome, (for custome is it, that give words their force,) as well as the words is, or bee, or are, and the like. and if it were so, that there were a language without any verb answerable to est, or is, or bee; yet the men that used it would bee not a jot the lesse capable of inferring, concluding, and of all kind of reasoning, than were the greeks, and latines. but what then would become of these terms, of entity, essence, essentiall, essentially, that are derived from it, and of many more that depend on these, applyed as most commonly they are? they are therefore no names of things; but signes, by which wee make known, that wee conceive the consequence of one name or attribute to another: as when we say, "a man, is, a living body," wee mean not that the man is one thing, the living body another, and the is, or beeing a third: but that the man, and the living body, is the same thing: because the consequence, "if hee bee a man, hee is a living body," is a true consequence, signified by that word is. therefore, to bee a body, to walke, to bee speaking, to live, to see, and the like infinitives; also corporeity, walking, speaking, life, sight, and the like, that signifie just the same, are the names of nothing; as i have elsewhere more amply expressed. but to what purpose (may some man say) is such subtilty in a work of this nature, where i pretend to nothing but what is necessary to the doctrine of government and obedience? it is to this purpose, that men may no longer suffer themselves to be abused, by them, that by this doctrine of separated essences, built on the vain philosophy of aristotle, would fright them from obeying the laws of their countrey, with empty names; as men fright birds from the corn with an empty doublet, a hat, and a crooked stick. for it is upon this ground, that when a man is dead and buried, they say his soule (that is his life) can walk separated from his body, and is seen by night amongst the graves. upon the same ground they say, that the figure, and colour, and tast of a peece of bread, has a being, there, where they say there is no bread: and upon the same ground they say, that faith, and wisdome, and other vertues are sometimes powred into a man, sometimes blown into him from heaven; as if the vertuous, and their vertues could be asunder; and a great many other things that serve to lessen the dependance of subjects on the soveraign power of their countrey. for who will endeavour to obey the laws, if he expect obedience to be powred or blown into him? or who will not obey a priest, that can make god, rather than his soveraign; nay than god himselfe? or who, that is in fear of ghosts, will not bear great respect to those that can make the holy water, that drives them from him? and this shall suffice for an example of the errors, which are brought into the church, from the entities, and essences of aristotle: which it may be he knew to be false philosophy; but writ it as a thing consonant to, and corroborative of their religion; and fearing the fate of socrates. being once fallen into this error of separated essences, they are thereby necessarily involved in many other absurdities that follow it. for seeing they will have these forms to be reall, they are obliged to assign them some place. but because they hold them incorporeall, without all dimension of quantity, and all men know that place is dimension, and not to be filled, but by that which is corporeall; they are driven to uphold their credit with a distinction, that they are not indeed any where circumscriptive, but definitive: which terms being meer words, and in this occasion insignificant, passe onely in latine, that the vanity of them may bee concealed. for the circumscription of a thing, is nothing else but the determination, or defining of its place; and so both the terms of the distinction are the same. and in particular, of the essence of a man, which (they say) is his soule, they affirm it, to be all of it in his little finger, and all of it in every other part (how small soever) of his body; and yet no more soule in the whole body, than in any one of those parts. can any man think that god is served with such absurdities? and yet all this is necessary to beleeve, to those that will beleeve the existence of an incorporeall soule, separated from the body. and when they come to give account, how an incorporeall substance can be capable of pain, and be tormented in the fire of hell, or purgatory, they have nothing at all to answer, but that it cannot be known how fire can burn soules. again, whereas motion is change of place, and incorporeall substances are not capable of place, they are troubled to make it seem possible, how a soule can goe hence, without the body to heaven, hell, or purgatory; and how the ghosts of men (and i may adde of their clothes which they appear in) can walk by night in churches, church-yards, and other places of sepulture. to which i know not what they can answer, unlesse they will say, they walke definitive, not circumscriptive, or spiritually, not temporally: for such egregious distinctions are equally applicable to any difficulty whatsoever. nunc-stans for the meaning of eternity, they will not have it to be an endlesse succession of time; for then they should not be able to render a reason how gods will, and praeordaining of things to come, should not be before his praescience of the same, as the efficient cause before the effect, or agent before the action; nor of many other their bold opinions concerning the incomprehensible nature of god. but they will teach us, that eternity is the standing still of the present time, a nunc-stans (as the schools call it;) which neither they, nor any else understand, no more than they would a hic-stans for an infinite greatnesse of place. one body in many places, and many bodies in one place at once and whereas men divide a body in their thought, by numbring parts of it, and in numbring those parts, number also the parts of the place it filled; it cannot be, but in making many parts, wee make also many places of those parts; whereby there cannot bee conceived in the mind of any man, more, or fewer parts, than there are places for: yet they will have us beleeve, that by the almighty power of god, one body may be at one and the same time in many places; and many bodies at one and the same time in one place; as if it were an acknowledgment of the divine power, to say, that which is, is not; or that which has been, has not been. and these are but a small part of the incongruities they are forced to, from their disputing philosophically, in stead of admiring, and adoring of the divine and incomprehensible nature; whose attributes cannot signifie what he is, but ought to signifie our desire to honour him, with the best appellations we can think on. but they that venture to reason of his nature, from these attributes of honour, losing their understanding in the very first attempt, fall from one inconvenience into another, without end, and without number; in the same manner, as when a man ignorant of the ceremonies of court, comming into the presence of a greater person than he is used to speak to, and stumbling at his entrance, to save himselfe from falling, lets slip his cloake; to recover his cloake, lets fall his hat; and with one disorder after another, discovers his astonishment and rusticity. absurdities in naturall philosophy, as gravity the cause of heavinesse then for physiques, that is, the knowledge of the subordinate, and secundary causes of naturall events; they render none at all, but empty words. if you desire to know why some kind of bodies sink naturally downwards toward the earth, and others goe naturally from it; the schools will tell you out of aristotle, that the bodies that sink downwards, are heavy; and that this heavinesse is it that causes them to descend: but if you ask what they mean by heavinesse, they will define it to bee an endeavour to goe to the center of the earth: so that the cause why things sink downward, is an endeavour to be below: which is as much as to say, that bodies descend, or ascend, because they doe. or they will tell you the center of the earth is the place of rest, and conservation for heavy things; and therefore they endeavour to be there: as if stones, and metalls had a desire, or could discern the place they would bee at, as man does; or loved rest, as man does not; or that a peece of glasse were lesse safe in the window, than falling into the street. quantity put into body already made if we would know why the same body seems greater (without adding to it) one time, than another; they say, when it seems lesse, it is condensed; when greater, rarefied. what is that condensed, and rarefied? condensed, is when there is in the very same matter, lesse quantity than before; and rarefied, when more. as if there could be matter, that had not some determined quantity; when quantity is nothing else but the determination of matter; that is to say of body, by which we say one body is greater, or lesser than another, by thus, or thus much. or as if a body were made without any quantity at all, and that afterwards more, or lesse were put into it, according as it is intended the body should be more, or lesse dense. powring in of soules for the cause of the soule of man, they say, creatur infundendo, and creando infunditur: that is, "it is created by powring it in," and "powred in by creation." ubiquity of apparition for the cause of sense, an ubiquity of species; that is, of the shews or apparitions of objects; which when they be apparitions to the eye, is sight; when to the eare, hearing; to the palate, tast; to the nostrill, smelling; and to the rest of the body, feeling. will, the cause of willing for cause of the will, to doe any particular action, which is called volitio, they assign the faculty, that is to say, the capacity in generall, that men have, to will sometimes one thing, sometimes another, which is called voluntas; making the power the cause of the act: as if one should assign for cause of the good or evill acts of men, their ability to doe them. ignorance an occult cause and in many occasions they put for cause of naturall events, their own ignorance, but disguised in other words: as when they say, fortune is the cause of things contingent; that is, of things whereof they know no cause: and as when they attribute many effects to occult qualities; that is, qualities not known to them; and therefore also (as they thinke) to no man else. and to sympathy, antipathy, antiperistasis, specificall qualities, and other like termes, which signifie neither the agent that produceth them, nor the operation by which they are produced. if such metaphysiques, and physiques as this, be not vain philosophy, there was never any; nor needed st. paul to give us warning to avoid it. one makes the things incongruent, another the incongruity and for their morall, and civill philosophy, it hath the same, or greater absurdities. if a man doe an action of injustice, that is to say, an action contrary to the law, god they say is the prime cause of the law, and also the prime cause of that, and all other actions; but no cause at all of the injustice; which is the inconformity of the action to the law. this is vain philosophy. a man might as well say, that one man maketh both a streight line, and a crooked, and another maketh their incongruity. and such is the philosophy of all men that resolve of their conclusions, before they know their premises; pretending to comprehend, that which is incomprehensible; and of attributes of honour to make attributes of nature; as this distinction was made to maintain the doctrine of free-will, that is, of a will of man, not subject to the will of god. private appetite the rule of publique good: aristotle, and other heathen philosophers define good, and evill, by the appetite of men; and well enough, as long as we consider them governed every one by his own law: for in the condition of men that have no other law but their own appetites, there can be no generall rule of good, and evill actions. but in a common-wealth this measure is false: not the appetite of private men, but the law, which is the will and appetite of the state is the measure. and yet is this doctrine still practised; and men judge the goodnesse, or wickednesse of their own, and of other mens actions, and of the actions of the common-wealth it selfe, by their own passions; and no man calleth good or evill, but that which is so in his own eyes, without any regard at all to the publique laws; except onely monks, and friers, that are bound by vow to that simple obedience to their superiour, to which every subject ought to think himself bound by the law of nature to the civill soveraign. and this private measure of good, is a doctrine, not onely vain, but also pernicious to the publique state. and that lawfull marriage is unchastity it is also vain and false philosophy, to say the work of marriage is repugnant to chastity, or continence, and by consequence to make them morall vices; as they doe, that pretend chastity, and continence, for the ground of denying marriage to the clergy. for they confesse it is no more, but a constitution of the church, that requireth in those holy orders that continually attend the altar, and administration of the eucharist, a continuall abstinence from women, under the name of continuall chastity, continence, and purity. therefore they call the lawfull use of wives, want of chastity, and continence; and so make marriage a sin, or at least a thing so impure, and unclean, as to render a man unfit for the altar. if the law were made because the use of wives is incontinence, and contrary to chastity, then all marriage is vice; if because it is a thing too impure, and unclean for a man consecrated to god; much more should other naturall, necessary, and daily works which all men doe, render men unworthy to bee priests, because they are more unclean. but the secret foundation of this prohibition of marriage of priests, is not likely to have been laid so slightly, as upon such errours in morall philosophy; nor yet upon the preference of single life, to the estate of matrimony; which proceeded from the wisdome of st. paul, who perceived how inconvenient a thing it was, for those that in those times of persecution were preachers of the gospel, and forced to fly from one countrey to another, to be clogged with the care of wife and children; but upon the design of the popes, and priests of after times, to make themselves the clergy, that is to say, sole heirs of the kingdome of god in this world; to which it was necessary to take from them the use of marriage, because our saviour saith, that at the coming of his kingdome the children of god shall "neither marry, nor bee given in marriage, but shall bee as the angels in heaven;" that is to say, spirituall. seeing then they had taken on them the name of spirituall, to have allowed themselves (when there was no need) the propriety of wives, had been an incongruity. and that all government but popular, is tyranny from aristotles civill philosophy, they have learned, to call all manner of common-wealths but the popular, (such as was at that time the state of athens,) tyranny. all kings they called tyrants; and the aristocracy of the thirty governours set up there by the lacedemonians that subdued them, the thirty tyrants: as also to call the condition of the people under the democracy, liberty. a tyrant originally signified no more simply, but a monarch: but when afterwards in most parts of greece that kind of government was abolished, the name began to signifie, not onely the thing it did before, but with it, the hatred which the popular states bare towards it: as also the name of king became odious after the deposing of the kings in rome, as being a thing naturall to all men, to conceive some great fault to be signified in any attribute, that is given in despight, and to a great enemy. and when the same men shall be displeased with those that have the administration of the democracy, or aristocracy, they are not to seek for disgraceful names to expresse their anger in; but call readily the one anarchy, and the other oligarchy, or the tyranny of a few. and that which offendeth the people, is no other thing, but that they are governed, not as every one of them would himselfe, but as the publique representant, be it one man, or an assembly of men thinks fit; that is, by an arbitrary government: for which they give evill names to their superiors; never knowing (till perhaps a little after a civill warre) that without such arbitrary government, such warre must be perpetuall; and that it is men, and arms, not words, and promises, that make the force and power of the laws. that not men, but law governs and therefore this is another errour of aristotles politiques, that in a wel ordered common-wealth, not men should govern, but the laws. what man, that has his naturall senses, though he can neither write nor read, does not find himself governed by them he fears, and beleeves can kill or hurt him when he obeyeth not? or that beleeves the law can hurt him; that is, words, and paper, without the hands, and swords of men? and this is of the number of pernicious errors: for they induce men, as oft as they like not their governours, to adhaere to those that call them tyrants, and to think it lawfull to raise warre against them: and yet they are many times cherished from the pulpit, by the clergy. laws over the conscience there is another errour in their civill philosophy (which they never learned of aristotle, nor cicero, nor any other of the heathen,) to extend the power of the law, which is the rule of actions onely, to the very thoughts, and consciences of men, by examination, and inquisition of what they hold, notwithstanding the conformity of their speech and actions: by which, men are either punished for answering the truth of their thoughts, or constrained to answer an untruth for fear of punishment. it is true, that the civill magistrate, intending to employ a minister in the charge of teaching, may enquire of him, if hee bee content to preach such, and such doctrines; and in case of refusall, may deny him the employment: but to force him to accuse himselfe of opinions, when his actions are not by law forbidden, is against the law of nature; and especially in them, who teach, that a man shall bee damned to eternall and extream torments, if he die in a false opinion concerning an article of the christian faith. for who is there, that knowing there is so great danger in an error, when the naturall care of himself, compelleth not to hazard his soule upon his own judgement, rather than that of any other man that is unconcerned in his damnation? private interpretation of law for a private man, without the authority of the common-wealth, that is to say, without permission from the representant thereof, to interpret the law by his own spirit, is another error in the politiques; but not drawn from aristotle, nor from any other of the heathen philosophers. for none of them deny, but that in the power of making laws, is comprehended also the power of explaining them when there is need. and are not the scriptures, in all places where they are law, made law by the authority of the common-wealth, and consequently, a part of the civill law? of the same kind it is also, when any but the soveraign restraineth in any man that power which the common-wealth hath not restrained: as they do, that impropriate the preaching of the gospell to one certain order of men, where the laws have left it free. if the state give me leave to preach, or teach; that is, if it forbid me not, no man can forbid me. if i find my selfe amongst the idolaters of america, shall i that am a christian, though not in orders, think it a sin to preach jesus christ, till i have received orders from rome? or when i have preached, shall not i answer their doubts, and expound the scriptures to them; that is shall i not teach? but for this may some say, as also for administring to them the sacraments, the necessity shall be esteemed for a sufficient mission; which is true: but this is true also, that for whatsoever, a dispensation is due for the necessity, for the same there needs no dispensation, when there is no law that forbids it. therefore to deny these functions to those, to whom the civill soveraigne hath not denyed them, is a taking away of a lawfull liberty, which is contrary to the doctrine of civill government. language of schoole-divines more examples of vain philosophy, brought into religion by the doctors of schoole-divinity, might be produced; but other men may if they please observe them of themselves. i shall onely adde this, that the writings of schoole-divines, are nothing else for the most part, but insignificant traines of strange and barbarous words, or words otherwise used, then in the common use of the latine tongue; such as would pose cicero, and varro, and all the grammarians of ancient rome. which if any man would see proved, let him (as i have said once before) see whether he can translate any schoole-divine into any of the modern tongues, as french, english, or any other copious language: for that which cannot in most of these be made intelligible, is no intelligible in the latine. which insignificancy of language, though i cannot note it for false philosophy; yet it hath a quality, not onely to hide the truth, but also to make men think they have it, and desist from further search. errors from tradition lastly, for the errors brought in from false, or uncertain history, what is all the legend of fictitious miracles, in the lives of the saints; and all the histories of apparitions, and ghosts, alledged by the doctors of the romane church, to make good their doctrines of hell, and purgatory, the power of exorcisme, and other doctrines which have no warrant, neither in reason, nor scripture; as also all those traditions which they call the unwritten word of god; but old wives fables? whereof, though they find dispersed somewhat in the writings of the ancient fathers; yet those fathers were men, that might too easily beleeve false reports; and the producing of their opinions for testimony of the truth of what they beleeved, hath no other force with them that (according to the counsell of st. john epist. chap. . verse .) examine spirits, than in all things that concern the power of the romane church, (the abuse whereof either they suspected not, or had benefit by it,) to discredit their testimony, in respect of too rash beleef of reports; which the most sincere men, without great knowledge of naturall causes, (such as the fathers were) are commonly the most subject to: for naturally, the best men are the least suspicious of fraudulent purposes. gregory the pope, and s. bernard have somewhat of apparitions of ghosts, that said they were in purgatory; and so has our beda: but no where, i beleeve, but by report from others. but if they, or any other, relate any such stories of their own knowledge, they shall not thereby confirm the more such vain reports; but discover their own infirmity, or fraud. suppression of reason with the introduction of false, we may joyn also the suppression of true philosophy, by such men, as neither by lawfull authority, nor sufficient study, are competent judges of the truth. our own navigations make manifest, and all men learned in humane sciences, now acknowledge there are antipodes: and every day it appeareth more and more, that years, and dayes are determined by motions of the earth. neverthelesse, men that have in their writings but supposed such doctrine, as an occasion to lay open the reasons for, and against it, have been punished for it by authority ecclesiasticall. but what reason is there for it? is it because such opinions are contrary to true religion? that cannot be, if they be true. let therefore the truth be first examined by competent judges, or confuted by them that pretend to know the contrary. is it because they be contrary to the religion established? let them be silenced by the laws of those, to whom the teachers of them are subject; that is, by the laws civill: for disobedience may lawfully be punished in them, that against the laws teach even true philosophy. is it because they tend to disorder in government, as countenancing rebellion, or sedition? then let them be silenced, and the teachers punished by vertue of his power to whom the care of the publique quiet is committed; which is the authority civill. for whatsoever power ecclesiastiques take upon themselves (in any place where they are subject to the state) in their own right, though they call it gods right, is but usurpation. chapter xlvii. of the benefit that proceedeth from such darknesse, and to whom it accreweth he that receiveth benefit by a fact, is presumed to be the author cicero maketh honorable mention of one of the cassii, a severe judge amongst the romans, for a custome he had, in criminal causes, (when the testimony of the witnesses was not sufficient,) to ask the accusers, cui bono; that is to say, what profit, honor, or other contentment, the accused obtained, or expected by the fact. for amongst praesumptions, there is none that so evidently declareth the author, as doth the benefit of the action. by the same rule i intend in this place to examine, who they may be, that have possessed the people so long in this part of christendome, with these doctrines, contrary to the peaceable societies of mankind. that the church militant is the kingdome of god, was first taught by the church of rome and first, to this error, that the present church now militant on earth, is the kingdome of god, (that is, the kingdome of glory, or the land of promise; not the kingdome of grace, which is but a promise of the land,) are annexed these worldly benefits, first, that the pastors, and teachers of the church, are entitled thereby, as gods publique ministers, to a right of governing the church; and consequently (because the church, and common-wealth are the same persons) to be rectors, and governours of the common-wealth. by this title it is, that the pope prevailed with the subjects of all christian princes, to beleeve, that to disobey him, was to disobey christ himselfe; and in all differences between him and other princes, (charmed with the word power spirituall,) to abandon their lawfull soveraigns; which is in effect an universall monarchy over all christendome. for though they were first invested in the right of being supreme teachers of christian doctrine, by, and under christian emperors, within the limits of the romane empire (as is acknowledged by themselves) by the title of pontifex maximus, who was an officer subject to the civill state; yet after the empire was divided, and dissolved, it was not hard to obtrude upon the people already subject to them, another title, namely, the right of st. peter; not onely to save entire their pretended power; but also to extend the same over the same christian provinces, though no more united in the empire of rome. this benefit of an universall monarchy, (considering the desire of men to bear rule) is a sufficient presumption, that the popes that pretended to it, and for a long time enjoyed it, were the authors of the doctrine, by which it was obtained; namely, that the church now on earth, is the kingdome of christ. for that granted, it must be understood, that christ hath some lieutenant amongst us, by whom we are to be told what are his commandements. after that certain churches had renounced this universall power of the pope, one would expect in reason, that the civill soveraigns in all those churches, should have recovered so much of it, as (before they had unadvisedly let it goe) was their own right, and in their own hands. and in england it was so in effect; saving that they, by whom the kings administred the government of religion, by maintaining their imployment to be in gods right, seemed to usurp, if not a supremacy, yet an independency on the civill power: and they but seemed to usurp it, in as much as they acknowledged a right in the king, to deprive them of the exercise of their functions at his pleasure. and maintained also by the presbytery but in those places where the presbytery took that office, though many other doctrines of the church of rome were forbidden to be taught; yet this doctrine, that the kingdome of christ is already come, and that it began at the resurrection of our saviour, was still retained. but cui bono? what profit did they expect from it? the same which the popes expected: to have a soveraign power over the people. for what is it for men to excommunicate their lawful king, but to keep him from all places of gods publique service in his own kingdom? and with force to resist him, when he with force endeavoureth to correct them? or what is it, without authority from the civill soveraign, to excommunicate any person, but to take from him his lawfull liberty, that is, to usurpe an unlawfull power over their brethren? the authors therefore of this darknesse in religion, are the romane, and the presbyterian clergy. infallibility to this head, i referre also all those doctrines, that serve them to keep the possession of this spirituall soveraignty after it is gotten. as first, that the pope in his publique capacity cannot erre. for who is there, that beleeving this to be true, will not readily obey him in whatsoever he commands? subjection of bishops secondly, that all other bishops, in what common-wealth soever, have not their right, neither immediately from god, nor mediately from their civill soveraigns, but from the pope, is a doctrine, by which there comes to be in every christian common-wealth many potent men, (for so are bishops,) that have their dependance on the pope, and owe obedience to him, though he be a forraign prince; by which means he is able, (as he hath done many times) to raise a civill war against the state that submits not it self to be governed according to his pleasure and interest. exemptions of the clergy thirdly, the exemption of these, and of all other priests, and of all monkes, and fryers, from the power of the civill laws. for by this means, there is a great part of every common-wealth, that enjoy the benefit of the laws, and are protected by the power of the civill state, which neverthelesse pay no part of the publique expence; nor are lyable to the penalties, as other subjects, due to their crimes; and consequently, stand not in fear of any man, but the pope; and adhere to him onely, to uphold his universall monarchy. the names of sacerdotes, and sacrifices fourthly, the giving to their priests (which is no more in the new testament but presbyters, that is, elders) the name of sacerdotes, that is, sacrificers, which was the title of the civill soveraign, and his publique ministers, amongst the jews, whilest god was their king. also, the making the lords supper a sacrifice, serveth to make the people beleeve the pope hath the same power over all christian, that moses and aaron had over the jews; that is to say, all power, both civill and ecclesiasticall, as the high priest then had. the sacramentation of marriage fiftly, the teaching that matrimony is a sacrament, giveth to the clergy the judging of the lawfulnesse of marriages; and thereby, of what children are legitimate; and consequently, of the right of succession to haereditary kingdomes. the single life of priests sixtly, the deniall of marriage to priests, serveth to assure this power of the pope over kings. for if a king be a priest, he cannot marry, and transmit his kingdome to his posterity; if he be not a priest then the pope pretendeth this authority ecclesiasticall over him, and over his people. auricular confession seventhly, from auricular confession, they obtain, for the assurance of their power, better intelligence of the designs of princes, and great persons in the civill state, than these can have of the designs of the state ecclesiasticall. canonization of saints, and declaring of martyrs eighthly, by the canonization of saints, and declaring who are martyrs, they assure their power, in that they induce simple men into an obstinacy against the laws and commands of their civill soveraigns even to death, if by the popes excommunication, they be declared heretiques or enemies to the church; that is, (as they interpret it,) to the pope. transubstantiation, penance, absolution ninthly, they assure the same, by the power they ascribe to every priest, of making christ; and by the power of ordaining pennance; and of remitting, and retaining of sins. purgatory, indulgences, externall works tenthly, by the doctrine of purgatory, of justification by externall works, and of indulgences, the clergy is enriched. daemonology and exorcism eleventhly, by their daemonology, and the use of exorcisme, and other things appertaining thereto, they keep (or thinke they keep) the people more in awe of their power. school-divinity lastly, the metaphysiques, ethiques, and politiques of aristotle, the frivolous distinctions, barbarous terms, and obscure language of the schoolmen, taught in the universities, (which have been all erected and regulated by the popes authority,) serve them to keep these errors from being detected, and to make men mistake the ignis fatuus of vain philosophy, for the light of the gospell. the authors of spirituall darknesse, who they be to these, if they sufficed not, might be added other of their dark doctrines, the profit whereof redoundeth manifestly, to the setting up of an unlawfull power over the lawfull soveraigns of christian people; or for the sustaining of the same, when it is set up; or to the worldly riches, honour, and authority of those that sustain it. and therefore by the aforesaid rule, of cui bono, we may justly pronounce for the authors of all this spirituall darknesse, the pope, and roman clergy, and all those besides that endeavour to settle in the mindes of men this erroneous doctrine, that the church now on earth, is that kingdome of god mentioned in the old and new testament. but the emperours, and other christian soveraigns, under whose government these errours, and the like encroachments of ecclesiastiques upon their office, at first crept in, to the disturbance of their possessions, and of the tranquillity of their subjects, though they suffered the same for want of foresight of the sequel, and of insight into the designs of their teachers, may neverthelesse bee esteemed accessories to their own, and the publique dammage; for without their authority there could at first no seditious doctrine have been publiquely preached. i say they might have hindred the same in the beginning: but when the people were once possessed by those spirituall men, there was no humane remedy to be applyed, that any man could invent: and for the remedies that god should provide, who never faileth in his good time to destroy all the machinations of men against the truth, wee are to attend his good pleasure, that suffereth many times the prosperity of his enemies, together with their ambition, to grow to such a height, as the violence thereof openeth the eyes, which the warinesse of their predecessours had before sealed up, and makes men by too much grasping let goe all, as peters net was broken, by the struggling of too great a multitude of fishes; whereas the impatience of those, that strive to resist such encroachment, before their subjects eyes were opened, did but encrease the power they resisted. i doe not therefore blame the emperour frederick for holding the stirrop to our countryman pope adrian; for such was the disposition of his subjects then, as if hee had not doe it, hee was not likely to have succeeded in the empire: but i blame those, that in the beginning, when their power was entire, by suffering such doctrines to be forged in the universities of their own dominions, have holden the stirrop to all the succeeding popes, whilest they mounted into the thrones of all christian soveraigns, to ride, and tire, both them, and their people, at their pleasure. but as the inventions of men are woven, so also are they ravelled out; the way is the same, but the order is inverted: the web begins at the first elements of power, which are wisdom, humility, sincerity, and other vertues of the apostles, whom the people converted, obeyed, out of reverence, not by obligation: their consciences were free, and their words and actions subject to none but the civill power. afterwards the presbyters (as the flocks of christ encreased) assembling to consider what they should teach, and thereby obliging themselves to teach nothing against the decrees of their assemblies, made it to be thought the people were thereby obliged to follow their doctrine, and when they refused, refused to keep them company, (that was then called excommunication,) not as being infidels, but as being disobedient: and this was the first knot upon their liberty. and the number of presbyters encreasing, the presbyters of the chief city or province, got themselves an authority over the parochiall presbyters, and appropriated to themselves the names of bishops: and this was a second knot on christian liberty. lastly, the bishop of rome, in regard of the imperiall city, took upon him an authority (partly by the wills of the emperours themselves, and by the title of pontifex maximus, and at last when the emperours were grown weak, by the priviledges of st. peter) over all other bishops of the empire: which was the third and last knot, and the whole synthesis and construction of the pontificall power. and therefore the analysis, or resolution is by the same way; but beginning with the knot that was last tyed; as wee may see in the dissolution of the praeterpoliticall church government in england. first, the power of the popes was dissolved totally by queen elizabeth; and the bishops, who before exercised their functions in right of the pope, did afterwards exercise the same in right of the queen and her successours; though by retaining the phrase of jure divino, they were thought to demand it by immediate right from god: and so was untyed the first knot. after this, the presbyterians lately in england obtained the putting down of episcopacy: and so was the second knot dissolved: and almost at the same time, the power was taken also from the presbyterians: and so we are reduced to the independency of the primitive christians to follow paul, or cephas, or apollos, every man as he liketh best: which, if it be without contention, and without measuring the doctrine of christ, by our affection to the person of his minister, (the fault which the apostle reprehended in the corinthians,) is perhaps the best: first, because there ought to be no power over the consciences of men, but of the word it selfe, working faith in every one, not alwayes according to the purpose of them that plant and water, but of god himself, that giveth the increase: and secondly, because it is unreasonable in them, who teach there is such danger in every little errour, to require of a man endued with reason of his own, to follow the reason of any other man, or of the most voices of many other men; which is little better, then to venture his salvation at crosse and pile. nor ought those teachers to be displeased with this losse of their antient authority: for there is none should know better then they, that power is preserved by the same vertues by which it is acquired; that is to say, by wisdome, humility, clearnesse of doctrine, and sincerity of conversation; and not by suppression of the naturall sciences, and of the morality of naturall reason; nor by obscure language; nor by arrogating to themselves more knowledge than they make appear; nor by pious frauds; nor by such other faults, as in the pastors of gods church are not only faults, but also scandalls, apt to make men stumble one time or other upon the suppression of their authority. comparison of the papacy with the kingdome of fayries but after this doctrine, "that the church now militant, is the kingdome of god spoken of in the old and new testament," was received in the world; the ambition, and canvasing for the offices that belong thereunto, and especially for that great office of being christs lieutenant, and the pompe of them that obtained therein the principal publique charges, became by degrees so evident, that they lost the inward reverence due to the pastorall function: in so much as the wisest men, of them that had any power in the civill state, needed nothing but the authority of their princes, to deny them any further obedience. for, from the time that the bishop of rome had gotten to be acknowledged for bishop universall, by pretence of succession to st. peter, their whole hierarchy, or kingdome of darknesse, may be compared not unfitly to the kingdome of fairies; that is, to the old wives fables in england, concerning ghosts and spirits, and the feats they play in the night. and if a man consider the originall of this great ecclesiasticall dominion, he will easily perceive, that the papacy, is no other, than the ghost of the deceased romane empire, sitting crowned upon the grave thereof: for so did the papacy start up on a sudden out of the ruines of that heathen power. the language also, which they use, both in the churches, and in their publique acts, being latine, which is not commonly used by any nation now in the world, what is it but the ghost of the old romane language. the fairies in what nation soever they converse, have but one universall king, which some poets of ours call king oberon; but the scripture calls beelzebub, prince of daemons. the ecclesiastiques likewise, in whose dominions soever they be found, acknowledge but one universall king, the pope. the ecclesiastiques are spirituall men, and ghostly fathers. the fairies are spirits, and ghosts. fairies and ghosts inhabite darknesse, solitudes, and graves. the ecclesiastiques walke in obscurity of doctrine, in monasteries, churches, and churchyards. the ecclesiastiques have their cathedral churches; which, in what towne soever they be erected, by vertue of holy water, and certain charmes called exorcismes, have the power to make those townes, cities, that is to say, seats of empire. the fairies also have their enchanted castles, and certain gigantique ghosts, that domineer over the regions round about them. the fairies are not to be seized on; and brought to answer for the hurt they do. so also the ecclesiastiques vanish away from the tribunals of civill justice. the ecclesiastiques take from young men, the use of reason, by certain charms compounded of metaphysiques, and miracles, and traditions, and abused scripture, whereby they are good for nothing else, but to execute what they command them. the fairies likewise are said to take young children out of their cradles, and to change them into naturall fools, which common people do therefore call elves, and are apt to mischief. in what shop, or operatory the fairies make their enchantment, the old wives have not determined. but the operatories of the clergy, are well enough known to be the universities, that received their discipline from authority pontificall. when the fairies are displeased with any body, they are said to send their elves, to pinch them. the ecclesiastiques, when they are displeased with any civill state, make also their elves, that is, superstitious, enchanted subjects, to pinch their princes, by preaching sedition; or one prince enchanted with promises, to pinch another. the fairies marry not; but there be amongst them incubi, that have copulation with flesh and bloud. the priests also marry not. the ecclesiastiques take the cream of the land, by donations of ignorant men, that stand in aw of them, and by tythes: so also it is in the fable of fairies, that they enter into the dairies, and feast upon the cream, which they skim from the milk. what kind of money is currant in the kingdome of fairies, is not recorded in the story. but the ecclesiastiques in their receipts accept of the same money that we doe; though when they are to make any payment, it is in canonizations, indulgences, and masses. to this, and such like resemblances between the papacy, and the kingdome of fairies, may be added this, that as the fairies have no existence, but in the fancies of ignorant people, rising from the traditions of old wives, or old poets: so the spirituall power of the pope (without the bounds of his own civill dominion) consisteth onely in the fear that seduced people stand in, of their excommunication; upon hearing of false miracles, false traditions, and false interpretations of the scripture. it was not therefore a very difficult matter, for henry . by his exorcisme; nor for qu. elizabeth by hers, to cast them out. but who knows that this spirit of rome, now gone out, and walking by missions through the dry places of china, japan, and the indies, that yeeld him little fruit, may not return, or rather an assembly of spirits worse than he, enter, and inhabite this clean swept house, and make the end thereof worse than the beginning? for it is not the romane clergy onely, that pretends the kingdome of god to be of this world, and thereby to have a power therein, distinct from that of the civill state. and this is all i had a designe to say, concerning the doctrine of the politiques. which when i have reviewed, i shall willingly expose it to the censure of my countrey. a review, and conclusion from the contrariety of some of the naturall faculties of the mind, one to another, as also of one passion to another, and from their reference to conversation, there has been an argument taken, to inferre an impossibility that any one man should be sufficiently disposed to all sorts of civill duty. the severity of judgment, they say, makes men censorious, and unapt to pardon the errours and infirmities of other men: and on the other side, celerity of fancy, makes the thoughts lesse steddy than is necessary, to discern exactly between right and wrong. again, in all deliberations, and in all pleadings, the faculty of solid reasoning, is necessary: for without it, the resolutions of men are rash, and their sentences unjust: and yet if there be not powerfull eloquence, which procureth attention and consent, the effect of reason will be little. but these are contrary faculties; the former being grounded upon principles of truth; the other upon opinions already received, true, or false; and upon the passions and interests of men, which are different, and mutable. and amongst the passions, courage, (by which i mean the contempt of wounds, and violent death) enclineth men to private revenges, and sometimes to endeavour the unsetling of the publique peace; and timorousnesse, many times disposeth to the desertion of the publique defence. both these they say cannot stand together in the same person. and to consider the contrariety of mens opinions, and manners in generall, it is they say, impossible to entertain a constant civill amity with all those, with whom the businesse of the world constrains us to converse: which businesse consisteth almost in nothing else but a perpetuall contention for honor, riches, and authority. to which i answer, that these are indeed great difficulties, but not impossibilities: for by education, and discipline, they may bee, and are sometimes reconciled. judgment, and fancy may have place in the same man; but by turnes; as the end which he aimeth at requireth. as the israelites in egypt, were sometimes fastened to their labour of making bricks, and other times were ranging abroad to gather straw: so also may the judgment sometimes be fixed upon one certain consideration, and the fancy at another time wandring about the world. so also reason, and eloquence, (though not perhaps in the naturall sciences, yet in the morall) may stand very well together. for wheresoever there is place for adorning and preferring of errour, there is much more place for adorning and preferring of truth, if they have it to adorn. nor is there any repugnancy between fearing the laws, and not fearing a publique enemy; nor between abstaining from injury, and pardoning it in others. there is therefore no such inconsistence of humane nature, with civill duties, as some think. i have known cleernesse of judgment, and largenesse of fancy; strength of reason, and gracefull elocution; a courage for the warre, and a fear for the laws, and all eminently in one man; and that was my most noble and honored friend mr. sidney godolphin; who hating no man, nor hated of any, was unfortunately slain in the beginning of the late civill warre, in the publique quarrel, by an indiscerned, and an undiscerning hand. to the laws of nature, declared in the . chapter, i would have this added, "that every man is bound by nature, as much as in him lieth, to protect in warre, the authority, by which he is himself protected in time of peace." for he that pretendeth a right of nature to preserve his owne body, cannot pretend a right of nature to destroy him, by whose strength he is preserved: it is a manifest contradiction of himselfe. and though this law may bee drawn by consequence, from some of those that are there already mentioned; yet the times require to have it inculcated, and remembred. and because i find by divers english books lately printed, that the civill warres have not yet sufficiently taught men, in what point of time it is, that a subject becomes obliged to the conquerour; nor what is conquest; nor how it comes about, that it obliges men to obey his laws: therefore for farther satisfaction of men therein, i say, the point of time, wherein a man becomes subject of a conquerour, is that point, wherein having liberty to submit to him, he consenteth, either by expresse words, or by other sufficient sign, to be his subject. when it is that a man hath the liberty to submit, i have showed before in the end of the . chapter; namely, that for him that hath no obligation to his former soveraign but that of an ordinary subject, it is then, when the means of his life is within the guards and garrisons of the enemy; for it is then, that he hath no longer protection from him, but is protected by the adverse party for his contribution. seeing therefore such contribution is every where, as a thing inevitable, (notwithstanding it be an assistance to the enemy,) esteemed lawfull; as totall submission, which is but an assistance to the enemy, cannot be esteemed unlawfull. besides, if a man consider that they who submit, assist the enemy but with part of their estates, whereas they that refuse, assist him with the whole, there is no reason to call their submission, or composition an assistance; but rather a detriment to the enemy. but if a man, besides the obligation of a subject, hath taken upon him a new obligation of a souldier, then he hath not the liberty to submit to a new power, as long as the old one keeps the field, and giveth him means of subsistence, either in his armies, or garrisons: for in this case, he cannot complain of want of protection, and means to live as a souldier: but when that also failes, a souldier also may seek his protection wheresoever he has most hope to have it; and may lawfully submit himself to his new master. and so much for the time when he may do it lawfully, if hee will. if therefore he doe it, he is undoubtedly bound to be a true subject: for a contract lawfully made, cannot lawfully be broken. by this also a man may understand, when it is, that men may be said to be conquered; and in what the nature of conquest, and the right of a conquerour consisteth: for this submission is it implyeth them all. conquest, is not the victory it self; but the acquisition by victory, of a right, over the persons of men. he therefore that is slain, is overcome, but not conquered; he that is taken, and put into prison, or chaines, is not conquered, though overcome; for he is still an enemy, and may save himself if hee can: but he that upon promise of obedience, hath his life and liberty allowed him, is then conquered, and a subject; and not before. the romanes used to say, that their generall had pacified such a province, that is to say, in english, conquered it; and that the countrey was pacified by victory, when the people of it had promised imperata facere, that is, to doe what the romane people commanded them: this was to be conquered. but this promise may be either expresse, or tacite: expresse, by promise: tacite, by other signes. as for example, a man that hath not been called to make such an expresse promise, (because he is one whose power perhaps is not considerable;) yet if he live under their protection openly, hee is understood to submit himselfe to the government: but if he live there secretly, he is lyable to any thing that may bee done to a spie, and enemy of the state. i say not, hee does any injustice, (for acts of open hostility bear not that name); but that he may be justly put to death. likewise, if a man, when his country is conquered, be out of it, he is not conquered, nor subject: but if at his return, he submit to the government, he is bound to obey it. so that conquest (to define it) is the acquiring of the right of soveraignty by victory. which right, is acquired, in the peoples submission, by which they contract with the victor, promising obedience, for life and liberty. in the th chapter i have set down for one of the causes of the dissolutions of common-wealths, their imperfect generation, consisting in the want of an absolute and arbitrary legislative power; for want whereof, the civill soveraign is fain to handle the sword of justice unconstantly, and as if it were too hot for him to hold: one reason whereof (which i have not there mentioned) is this, that they will all of them justifie the war, by which their power was at first gotten, and whereon (as they think) their right dependeth, and not on the possession. as if, for example, the right of the kings of england did depend on the goodnesse of the cause of william the conquerour, and upon their lineall, and directest descent from him; by which means, there would perhaps be no tie of the subjects obedience to their soveraign at this day in all the world: wherein whilest they needlessely think to justifie themselves, they justifie all the successefull rebellions that ambition shall at any time raise against them, and their successors. therefore i put down for one of the most effectuall seeds of the death of any state, that the conquerours require not onely a submission of mens actions to them for the future, but also an approbation of all their actions past; when there is scarce a common-wealth in the world, whose beginnings can in conscience be justified. and because the name of tyranny, signifieth nothing more, nor lesse, than the name of soveraignty, be it in one, or many men, saving that they that use the former word, are understood to bee angry with them they call tyrants; i think the toleration of a professed hatred of tyranny, is a toleration of hatred to common-wealth in general, and another evill seed, not differing much from the former. for to the justification of the cause of a conqueror, the reproach of the cause of the conquered, is for the most part necessary: but neither of them necessary for the obligation of the conquered. and thus much i have thought fit to say upon the review of the first and second part of this discourse. in the th chapter, i have sufficiently declared out of the scripture, that in the common-wealth of the jewes, god himselfe was made the soveraign, by pact with the people; who were therefore called his peculiar people, to distinguish them from the rest of the world, over whom god reigned not by their consent, but by his own power: and that in this kingdome moses was gods lieutenant on earth; and that it was he that told them what laws god appointed to doe execution; especially in capitall punishments; not then thinking it a matter of so necessary consideration, as i find it since. wee know that generally in all common-wealths, the execution of corporeall punishments, was either put upon the guards, or other souldiers of the soveraign power; or given to those, in whom want of means, contempt of honour, and hardnesse of heart, concurred, to make them sue for such an office. but amongst the israelites it was a positive law of god their soveraign, that he that was convicted of a capitall crime, should be stoned to death by the people; and that the witnesses should cast the first stone, and after the witnesses, then the rest of the people. this was a law that designed who were to be the executioners; but not that any one should throw a stone at him before conviction and sentence, where the congregation was judge. the witnesses were neverthelesse to be heard before they proceeded to execution, unlesse the fact were committed in the presence of the congregation it self, or in sight of the lawfull judges; for then there needed no other witnesses but the judges themselves. neverthelesse, this manner of proceeding being not throughly understood, hath given occasion to a dangerous opinion, that any man may kill another, is some cases, by a right of zeal; as if the executions done upon offenders in the kingdome of god in old time, proceeded not from the soveraign command, but from the authority of private zeal: which, if we consider the texts that seem to favour it, is quite contrary. first, where the levites fell upon the people, that had made and worshipped the golden calfe, and slew three thousand of them; it was by the commandement of moses, from the mouth of god; as is manifest, exod. . . and when the son of a woman of israel had blasphemed god, they that heard it, did not kill him, but brought him before moses, who put him under custody, till god should give sentence against him; as appears, levit. . , . again, (numbers . , .) when phinehas killed zimri and cosbi, it was not by right of private zeale: their crime was committed in the sight of the assembly; there needed no witnesse; the law was known, and he the heir apparent to the soveraignty; and which is the principall point, the lawfulnesse of his act depended wholly upon a subsequent ratification by moses, whereof he had no cause to doubt. and this presumption of a future ratification, is sometimes necessary to the safety [of] a common-wealth; as in a sudden rebellion, any man that can suppresse it by his own power in the countrey where it begins, may lawfully doe it, and provide to have it ratified, or pardoned, whilest it is in doing, or after it is done. also numb. . . it is expressely said, "whosoever shall kill the murtherer, shall kill him upon the word of witnesses:" but witnesses suppose a formall judicature, and consequently condemn that pretence of jus zelotarum. the law of moses concerning him that enticeth to idolatry, (that is to say, in the kingdome of god to a renouncing of his allegiance) (deut. . .) forbids to conceal him, and commands the accuser to cause him to be put to death, and to cast the first stone at him; but not to kill him before he be condemned. and (deut. . ver. , , .) the processe against idolatry is exactly set down: for god there speaketh to the people, as judge, and commandeth them, when a man is accused of idolatry, to enquire diligently of the fact, and finding it true, then to stone him; but still the hand of the witnesse throweth the first stone. this is not private zeal, but publique condemnation. in like manner when a father hath a rebellious son, the law is (deut. . .) that he shall bring him before the judges of the town, and all the people of the town shall stone him. lastly, by pretence of these laws it was, that st. steven was stoned, and not by pretence of private zeal: for before hee was carried away to execution, he had pleaded his cause before the high priest. there is nothing in all this, nor in any other part of the bible, to countenance executions by private zeal; which being oftentimes but a conjunction of ignorance and passion, is against both the justice and peace of a common-wealth. in the th chapter i have said, that it is not declared in what manner god spake supernaturally to moses: not that he spake not to him sometimes by dreams and visions, and by a supernaturall voice, as to other prophets: for the manner how he spake unto him from the mercy-seat, is expressely set down (numbers . .) in these words, "from that time forward, when moses entred into the tabernacle of the congregation to speak with god, he heard a voice which spake unto him from over the mercy-seate, which is over the arke of the testimony, from between the cherubins he spake unto him." but it is not declared in what consisted the praeeminence of the manner of gods speaking to moses, above that of his speaking to other prophets, as to samuel, and to abraham, to whom he also spake by a voice, (that is, by vision) unlesse the difference consist in the cleernesse of the vision. for face to face, and mouth to mouth, cannot be literally understood of the infinitenesse, and incomprehensibility of the divine nature. and as to the whole doctrine, i see not yet, but the principles of it are true and proper; and the ratiocination solid. for i ground the civill right of soveraigns, and both the duty and liberty of subjects, upon the known naturall inclinations of mankind, and upon the articles of the law of nature; of which no man, that pretends but reason enough to govern his private family, ought to be ignorant. and for the power ecclesiasticall of the same soveraigns, i ground it on such texts, as are both evident in themselves, and consonant to the scope of the whole scripture. and therefore am perswaded, that he that shall read it with a purpose onely to be informed, shall be informed by it. but for those that by writing, or publique discourse, or by their eminent actions, have already engaged themselves to the maintaining of contrary opinions, they will not bee so easily satisfied. for in such cases, it is naturall for men, at one and the same time, both to proceed in reading, and to lose their attention, in the search of objections to that they had read before: of which, in a time wherein the interests of men are changed (seeing much of that doctrine, which serveth to the establishing of a new government, must needs be contrary to that which conduced to the dissolution of the old,) there cannot choose but be very many. in that part which treateth of a christian common-wealth, there are some new doctrines, which, it may be, in a state where the contrary were already fully determined, were a fault for a subject without leave to divulge, as being an usurpation of the place of a teacher. but in this time, that men call not onely for peace, but also for truth, to offer such doctrines as i think true, and that manifestly tend to peace and loyalty, to the consideration of those that are yet in deliberation, is no more, but to offer new wine, to bee put into new cask, that bothe may be preserved together. and i suppose, that then, when novelty can breed no trouble, nor disorder in a state, men are not generally so much inclined to the reverence of antiquity, as to preferre ancient errors, before new and well proved truth. there is nothing i distrust more than my elocution; which neverthelesse i am confident (excepting the mischances of the presse) is not obscure. that i have neglected the ornament of quoting ancient poets, orators, and philosophers, contrary to the custome of late time, (whether i have done well or ill in it,) proceedeth from my judgment, grounded on many reasons. for first, all truth of doctrine dependeth either upon reason, or upon scripture; both which give credit to many, but never receive it from any writer. secondly, the matters in question are not of fact, but of right, wherein there is no place for witnesses. there is scarce any of those old writers, that contradicteth not sometimes both himself, and others; which makes their testimonies insufficient. fourthly, such opinions as are taken onely upon credit of antiquity, are not intrinsically the judgment of those that cite them, but words that passe (like gaping) from mouth to mouth. fiftly, it is many times with a fraudulent designe that men stick their corrupt doctrine with the cloves of other mens wit. sixtly, i find not that the ancients they cite, took it for an ornament, to doe the like with those that wrote before them. seventhly, it is an argument of indigestion, when greek and latine sentences unchewed come up again, as they use to doe, unchanged. lastly, though i reverence those men of ancient time, that either have written truth perspicuously, or set us in a better way to find it out our selves; yet to the antiquity it self i think nothing due: for if we will reverence the age, the present is the oldest. if the antiquity of the writer, i am not sure, that generally they to whom such honor is given, were more ancient when they wrote, than i am that am writing: but if it bee well considered, the praise of ancient authors, proceeds not from the reverence of the dead, but from the competition, and mutuall envy of the living. to conclude, there is nothing in this whole discourse, nor in that i writ before of the same subject in latine, as far as i can perceive, contrary either to the word of god, or to good manners; or to the disturbance of the publique tranquillity. therefore i think it may be profitably printed, and more profitably taught in the universities, in case they also think so, to whom the judgment of the same belongeth. for seeing the universities are the fountains of civill, and morall doctrine, from whence the preachers, and the gentry, drawing such water as they find, use to sprinkle the same (both from the pulpit, and in their conversation) upon the people, there ought certainly to be great care taken, to have it pure, both from the venime of heathen politicians, and from the incantation of deceiving spirits. and by that means the most men, knowing their duties, will be the less subject to serve the ambition of a few discontented persons, in their purposes against the state; and be the lesse grieved with the contributions necessary for their peace, and defence; and the governours themselves have the lesse cause, to maintain at the common charge any greater army, than is necessary to make good the publique liberty, against the invasions and encroachments of forraign enemies. and thus i have brought to an end my discourse of civill and ecclesiasticall government, occasioned by the disorders of the present time, without partiality, without application, and without other designe, than to set before mens eyes the mutuall relation between protection and obedience; of which the condition of humane nature, and the laws divine, (both naturall and positive) require an inviolable observation. and though in the revolution of states, there can be no very good constellation for truths of this nature to be born under, (as having an angry aspect from the dissolvers of an old government, and seeing but the backs of them that erect a new;) yet i cannot think it will be condemned at this time, either by the publique judge of doctrine, or by any that desires the continuance of publique peace. and in this hope i return to my interrupted speculation of bodies naturall; wherein, (if god give me health to finish it,) i hope the novelty will as much please, as in the doctrine of this artificiall body it useth to offend. for such truth, as opposeth no man profit, nor pleasure, is to all men welcome. finis considerations on representative government by john stuart mill author of "a system of logic, ratiocinative and inductive" [redactor's note: italics are indicated by underscores surrounding the _italicized text_.] [footnotes initially found throughout the text have been numbered and placed at the end of the text.] preface those who have done me the honor of reading my previous writings will probably receive no strong impression of novelty from the present volume; for the principles are those to which i have been working up during the greater part of my life, and most of the practical suggestions have been anticipated by others or by myself. there is novelty, however, in the fact of bringing them together, and exhibiting them in their connection, and also, i believe, in much that is brought forward in their support. several of the opinions at all events, if not new, are for the present as little likely to meet with general acceptance as if they were. it seems to me, however, from various indications, and from none more than the recent debates on reform of parliament, that both conservatives and liberals (if i may continue to call them what they still call themselves) have lost confidence in the political creeds which they nominally profess, while neither side appears to have made any progress in providing itself with a better. yet such a better doctrine must be possible; not a mere compromise, by splitting the difference between the two, but something wider than either, which, in virtue of its superior comprehensiveness, might be adopted by either liberal or conservative without renouncing any thing which he really feels to be valuable in his own creed. when so many feel obscurely the want of such a doctrine, and so few even flatter themselves that they have attained it, any one may without presumption, offer what his own thoughts, and the best that he knows of those of others, are able to contribute towards its formation. list of contents chap. i. to what extent forms of government are a matter of choice. chap. ii. the criterion of a good form of government. chap. iii. that the ideally best form of government is representative government. chap. iv. under what social conditions representative government is inapplicable. chap. v. of the proper functions of representative bodies. chap. vi. of the infirmities and dangers to which representative government is liable. chap. vii. of true and false democracy; representation of all, and representation of the majority only. chap. viii. of the extension of the suffrage. chap. ix. should there be two stages of election? chap. x. of the mode of voting. chap. xi. of the duration of parliaments. chap. xii. ought pledges to be required from members of parliament. chap. xiii. of a second chamber. chap. xiv. of the executive in a representative government. chap. xv. of local representative bodies. chap. xvi. of nationality as connected with representative government. chap. xvii. of federal representative governments. chap. xviii. of the government of dependencies by a free state. chapter i--to what extent forms of government are a matter of choice. all speculations concerning forms of government bear the impress, more or less exclusive, of two conflicting theories respecting political institutions; or, to speak more properly, conflicting conceptions of what political institutions are. by some minds, government is conceived as strictly a practical art, giving rise to no questions but those of means and an end. forms of government are assimilated to any other expedients for the attainment of human objects. they are regarded as wholly an affair of invention and contrivance. being made by man, it is assumed that man has the choice either to make them or not, and how or on what pattern they shall be made. government, according to this conception, is a problem, to be worked like any other question of business. the first step is to define the purposes which governments are required to promote. the next, is to inquire what form of government is best fitted to fulfill those purposes. having satisfied ourselves on these two points, and ascertained the form of government which combines the greatest amount of good with the least of evil, what further remains is to obtain the concurrence of our countrymen, or those for whom the institutions are intended, in the opinion which we have privately arrived at. to find the best form of government; to persuade others that it is the best; and, having done so, to stir them up to insist on having it, is the order of ideas in the minds of those who adopt this view of political philosophy. they look upon a constitution in the same light (difference of scale being allowed for) as they would upon a steam plow, or a threshing machine. to these stand opposed another kind of political reasoners, who are so far from assimilating a form of government to a machine, that they regard it as a sort of spontaneous product, and the science of government as a branch (so to speak) of natural history. according to them, forms of government are not a matter of choice. we must take them, in the main, as we find them. governments can not be constructed by premeditated design. they "are not made, but grow." our business with them, as with the other facts of the universe, is to acquaint ourselves with their natural properties, and adapt ourselves to them. the fundamental political institutions of a people are considered by this school as a sort of organic growth from the nature and life of that people; a product of their habits, instincts, and unconscious wants and desires, scarcely at all of their deliberate purposes. their will has had no part in the matter but that of meeting the necessities of the moment by the contrivances of the moment, which contrivances, if in sufficient conformity to the national feelings and character, commonly last, and, by successive aggregation, constitute a polity suited to the people who possess it, but which it would be vain to attempt to superinduce upon any people whose nature and circumstances had not spontaneously evolved it. it is difficult to decide which of these doctrines would be the most absurd, if we could suppose either of them held as an exclusive theory. but the principles which men profess, on any controverted subject, are usually a very incomplete exponent of the opinions they really hold. no one believes that every people is capable of working every sort of institution. carry the analogy of mechanical contrivances as far as we will, a man does not choose even an instrument of timber and iron on the sole ground that it is in itself the best. he considers whether he possesses the other requisites which must be combined with it to render its employment advantageous, and, in particular whether those by whom it will have to be worked possess the knowledge and skill necessary for its management. on the other hand, neither are those who speak of institutions as if they were a kind of living organisms really the political fatalists they give themselves out to be. they do not pretend that mankind have absolutely no range of choice as to the government they will live under, or that a consideration of the consequences which flow from different forms of polity is no element at all in deciding which of them should be preferred. but, though each side greatly exaggerates its own theory, out of opposition to the other, and no one holds without modification to either, the two doctrines correspond to a deep-seated difference between two modes of thought; and though it is evident that neither of these is entirely in the right, yet it being equally evident that neither is wholly in the wrong, we must endeavour to get down to what is at the root of each, and avail ourselves of the amount of truth which exists in either. let us remember, then, in the first place, that political institutions (however the proposition may be at times ignored) are the work of men--owe their origin and their whole existence to human will. men did not wake on a summer morning and find them sprung up. neither do they resemble trees, which, once planted, "are aye growing" while men "are sleeping." in every stage of their existence they are made what they are by human voluntary agency. like all things, therefore, which are made by men, they may be either well or ill made; judgment and skill may have been exercised in their production, or the reverse of these. and again, if a people have omitted, or from outward pressure have not had it in their power to give themselves a constitution by the tentative process of applying a corrective to each evil as it arose, or as the sufferers gained strength to resist it, this retardation of political progress is no doubt a great disadvantage to them, but it does not prove that what has been found good for others would not have been good also for them, and will not be so still when they think fit to adopt it. on the other hand, it is also to be borne in mind that political machinery does not act of itself. as it is first made, so it has to be worked, by men, and even by ordinary men. it needs, not their simple acquiescence, but their active participation; and must be adjusted to the capacities and qualities of such men as are available. this implies three conditions. the people for whom the form of government is intended must be willing to accept it, or, at least not so unwilling as to oppose an insurmountable obstacle to its establishment. they must be willing and able to do what is necessary to keep it standing. and they must be willing and able to do what it requires of them to enable it to fulfill its purposes. the word "do" is to be understood as including forbearances as well as acts. they must be capable of fulfilling the conditions of action and the conditions of self-restraint, which are necessary either for keeping the established polity in existence, or for enabling it to achieve the ends, its conduciveness to which forms its recommendation. the failure of any of these conditions renders a form of government, whatever favorable promise it may otherwise hold out, unsuitable to the particular case. the first obstacle, the repugnance of the people to the particular form of government, needs little illustration, because it never can in theory have been overlooked. the case is of perpetual occurrence. nothing but foreign force would induce a tribe of north american indians to submit to the restraints of a regular and civilized government. the same might have been said, though somewhat less absolutely, of the barbarians who overran the roman empire. it required centuries of time, and an entire change of circumstances, to discipline them into regular obedience even to their own leaders, when not actually serving under their banner. there are nations who will not voluntarily submit to any government but that of certain families, which have from time immemorial had the privilege of supplying them with chiefs. some nations could not, except by foreign conquest, be made to endure a monarchy; others are equally averse to a republic. the hindrance often amounts, for the time being, to impracticability. but there are also cases in which, though not averse to a form of government--possibly even desiring it--a people may be unwilling or unable to fulfill its conditions. they may be incapable of fulfilling such of them as are necessary to keep the government even in nominal existence. thus a people may prefer a free government; but if, from indolence, or carelessness, or cowardice, or want of public spirit, they are unequal to the exertions necessary for preserving it; if they will not fight for it when it is directly attacked; if they can be deluded by the artifices used to cheat them out of it; if, by momentary discouragement, or temporary panic, or a fit of enthusiasm for an individual, they can be induced to lay their liberties at the feet even of a great man, or trust him with powers which enable him to subvert their institutions--in all these cases they are more or less unfit for liberty; and though it may be for their good to have had it even for a short time, they are unlikely long to enjoy it. again, a people may be unwilling or unable to fulfill the duties which a particular form of government requires of them. a rude people, though in some degree alive to the benefits of civilized society, may be unable to practice the forbearances which it demands; their passions may be too violent, or their personal pride too exacting, to forego private conflict, and leave to the laws the avenging of their real or supposed wrongs. in such a case, a civilized government, to be really advantageous to them, will require to be in a considerable degree despotic; one over which they do not themselves exercise control, and which imposes a great amount of forcible restraint upon their actions. again, a people must be considered unfit for more than a limited and qualified freedom who will not co-operate actively with the law and the public authorities in the repression of evil-doers. a people who are more disposed to shelter a criminal than to apprehend him; who, like the hindoos, will perjure themselves to screen the man who has robbed them, rather than take trouble or expose themselves to vindictiveness by giving evidence against him; who, like some nations of europe down to a recent date, if a man poniards another in the public street, pass by on the other side, because it is the business of the police to look to the matter, and it is safer not to interfere in what does not concern them; a people who are revolted by an execution, but not shocked at an assassination--require that the public authorities should be armed with much sterner powers of repression than elsewhere, since the first indispensable requisites of civilized life have nothing else to rest on. these deplorable states of feeling, in any people who have emerged from savage life, are, no doubt, usually the consequence of previous bad government, which has taught them to regard the law as made for other ends than their good, and its administrators as worse enemies than those who openly violate it. but, however little blame may be due to those in whom these mental habits have grown up, and however the habits may be ultimately conquerable by better government, yet, while they exist, a people so disposed can not be governed with as little power exercised over them as a people whose sympathies are on the side of the law, and who are willing to give active assistance in its enforcement. again, representative institutions are of little value, and may be a mere instrument of tyranny or intrigue, when the generality of electors are not sufficiently interested in their own government to give their vote, or, if they vote at all, do not bestow their suffrages on public grounds, but sell them for money, or vote at the beck of some one who has control over them, or whom for private reasons they desire to propitiate. popular election thus practiced, instead of a security against misgovernment, is but an additional wheel in its machinery. besides these moral hindrances, mechanical difficulties are often an insuperable impediment to forms of government. in the ancient world, though there might be, and often was, great individual or local independence, there could be nothing like a regulated popular government beyond the bounds of a single city-community; because there did not exist the physical conditions for the formation and propagation of a public opinion, except among those who could be brought together to discuss public matters in the same agora. this obstacle is generally thought to have ceased by the adoption of the representative system. but to surmount it completely, required the press, and even the newspaper press, the real equivalent, though not in all respects an adequate one, of the pnyx and the forum. there have been states of society in which even a monarchy of any great territorial extent could not subsist, but unavoidably broke up into petty principalities, either mutually independent, or held together by a loose tie like the feudal: because the machinery of authority was not perfect enough to carry orders into effect at a great distance from the person of the ruler. he depended mainly upon voluntary fidelity for the obedience even of his army, nor did there exist the means of making the people pay an amount of taxes sufficient for keeping up the force necessary to compel obedience throughout a large territory. in these and all similar cases, it must be understood that the amount of the hindrance may be either greater or less. it may be so great as to make the form of government work very ill, without absolutely precluding its existence, or hindering it from being practically preferable to any other which can be had. this last question mainly depends upon a consideration which we have not yet arrived at--the tendencies of different forms of government to promote progress. we have now examined the three fundamental conditions of the adaptation of forms of government to the people who are to be governed by them. if the supporters of what may be termed the naturalistic theory of politics, mean but to insist on the necessity of these three conditions; if they only mean that no government can permanently exist which does not fulfill the first and second conditions, and, in some considerable measure, the third; their doctrine, thus limited, is incontestable. whatever they mean more than this appears to me untenable. all that we are told about the necessity of an historical basis for institutions, of their being in harmony with the national usages and character, and the like, means either this, or nothing to the purpose. there is a great quantity of mere sentimentality connected with these and similar phrases, over and above the amount of rational meaning contained in them. but, considered practically, these alleged requisites of political institutions are merely so many facilities for realising the three conditions. when an institution, or a set of institutions, has the way prepared for it by the opinions, tastes, and habits of the people, they are not only more easily induced to accept it, but will more easily learn, and will be, from the beginning, better disposed, to do what is required of them both for the preservation of the institutions, and for bringing them into such action as enables them to produce their best results. it would be a great mistake in any legislator not to shape his measures so as to take advantage of such pre-existing habits and feelings when available. on the other hand, it is an exaggeration to elevate these mere aids and facilities into necessary conditions. people are more easily induced to do, and do more easily, what they are already used to; but people also learn to do things new to them. familiarity is a great help; but much dwelling on an idea will make it familiar, even when strange at first. there are abundant instances in which a whole people have been eager for untried things. the amount of capacity which a people possess for doing new things, and adapting themselves to new circumstances; is itself one of the elements of the question. it is a quality in which different nations, and different stages of civilization, differ much from one another. the capability of any given people for fulfilling the conditions of a given form of government can not be pronounced on by any sweeping rule. knowledge of the particular people, and general practical judgment and sagacity, must be the guides. there is also another consideration not to be lost sight of. a people may be unprepared for good institutions; but to kindle a desire for them is a necessary part of the preparation. to recommend and advocate a particular institution or form of government, and set its advantages in the strongest light, is one of the modes, often the only mode within reach, of educating the mind of the nation not only for accepting or claiming, but also for working, the institution. what means had italian patriots, during the last and present generation, of preparing the italian people for freedom in unity, but by inciting them to demand it? those, however, who undertake such a task, need to be duly impressed, not solely with the benefits of the institution or polity which they recommend, but also with the capacities, moral, intellectual, and active, required for working it; that they may avoid, if possible, stirring up a desire too much in advance of the capacity. the result of what has been said is, that, within the limits set by the three conditions so often adverted to, institutions and forms of government are a matter of choice. to inquire into the best form of government in the abstract (as it is called) is not a chimerical, but a highly practical employment of scientific intellect; and to introduce into any country the best institutions which, in the existing state of that country, are capable of, in any tolerable degree, fulfilling the conditions, is one of the most rational objects to which practical effort can address itself. every thing which can be said by way of disparaging the efficacy of human will and purpose in matters of government might be said of it in every other of its applications. in all things there are very strict limits to human power. it can only act by wielding some one or more of the forces of nature. forces, therefore, that can be applied to the desired use must exist; and will only act according to their own laws. we can not make the river run backwards; but we do not therefore say that watermills "are not made, but grow." in politics, as in mechanics, the power which is to keep the engine going must be sought for _outside_ the machinery; and if it is not forthcoming, or is insufficient to surmount the obstacles which may reasonably be expected, the contrivance will fail. this is no peculiarity of the political art; and amounts only to saying that it is subject to the same limitations and conditions as all other arts. at this point we are met by another objection, or the same objection in a different form. the forces, it is contended, on which the greater political phenomena depend, are not amenable to the direction of politicians or philosophers. the government of a country, it is affirmed, is, in all substantial respects, fixed and determined beforehand by the state of the country in regard to the distribution of the elements of social power. whatever is the strongest power in society will obtain the governing authority; and a change in the political constitution can not be durable unless preceded or accompanied by an altered distribution of power in society itself. a nation, therefore, can not choose its form of government. the mere details, and practical organization, it may choose; but the essence of the whole, the seat of the supreme power, is determined for it by social circumstances. that there is a portion of truth in this doctrine i at once admit; but to make it of any use, it must be reduced to a distinct expression and proper limits. when it is said that the strongest power in society will make itself strongest in the government, what is meant by power? not thews and sinews; otherwise pure democracy would be the only form of polity that could exist. to mere muscular strength, add two other elements, property and intelligence, and we are nearer the truth, but far from having yet reached it. not only is a greater number often kept down by a less, but the greater number may have a preponderance in property, and individually in intelligence, and may yet be held in subjection, forcibly or otherwise, by a minority in both respects inferior to it. to make these various elements of power politically influential they must be organized; and the advantage in organization is necessarily with those who are in possession of the government. a much weaker party in all other elements of power may greatly preponderate when the powers of government are thrown into the scale; and may long retain its predominance through this alone: though, no doubt, a government so situated is in the condition called in mechanics unstable equilibrium, like a thing balanced on its smaller end, which, if once disturbed, tends more and more to depart from, instead of reverting to, its previous state. but there are still stronger objections to this theory of government in the terms in which it is usually stated. the power in society which has any tendency to convert itself into political power is not power quiescent, power merely passive, but active power; in other words, power actually exerted; that is to say, a very small portion of all the power in existence. politically speaking, a great part of all power consists in will. how is it possible, then, to compute the elements of political power, while we omit from the computation any thing which acts on the will? to think that, because those who wield the power in society wield in the end that of government, therefore it is of no use to attempt to influence the constitution of the government by acting on opinion, is to forget that opinion is itself one of the greatest active social forces. one person with a belief is a social power equal to ninety-nine who have only interests. they who can succeed in creating a general persuasion that a certain form of government, or social fact of any kind, deserves to be preferred, have made nearly the most important step which can possibly be taken toward ranging the powers of society on its side. on the day when the protomartyr was stoned to death at jerusalem, while he who was to be the apostle of the gentiles stood by "consenting unto his death," would any one have supposed that the party of that stoned man were then and there the strongest power in society? and has not the event proved that they were so? because theirs was the most powerful of then existing beliefs. the same element made a monk of wittenberg, at the meeting of the diet of worms, a more powerful social force than the emperor charles the fifth, and all the princes there assembled. but these, it may be said, are cases in which religion was concerned, and religious convictions are something peculiar in their strength. then let us take a case purely political, where religion, if concerned at all, was chiefly on the losing side. if any one requires to be convinced that speculative thought is one of the chief elements of social power, let him bethink himself of the age in which there was scarcely a throne in europe which was not filled by a liberal and reforming king, a liberal and reforming emperor, or, strangest of all, a liberal and reforming pope; the age of frederic the great, of catherine the second, of joseph the second, of peter leopold, of benedict xiv., of ganganelli, of pombal, of d'aranda; when the very bourbons of naples were liberals and reformers, and all the active minds among the noblesse of france were filled with the ideas which were soon after to cost them so dear. surely a conclusive example how far mere physical and economic power is from being the whole of social power. it was not by any change in the distribution of material interests, but by the spread of moral convictions, that negro slavery has been put an end to in the british empire and elsewhere. the serfs in russia owe their emancipation, if not to a sentiment of duty, at least to the growth of a more enlightened opinion respecting the true interest of the state. it is what men think that determines how they act; and though the persuasions and convictions of average men are in a much greater degree determined by their personal position than by reason, no little power is exercised over them by the persuasions and convictions of those whose personal position is different, and by the united authority of the instructed. when, therefore, the instructed in general can be brought to recognize one social arrangement, or political or other institution, as good, and another as bad--one as desirable, another as condemnable, very much has been done towards giving to the one, or withdrawing from the other, that preponderance of social force which enables it to subsist. and the maxim, that the government of a country is what the social forces in existence compel it to be, is true only in the sense in which it favors, instead of discouraging, the attempt to exercise, among all forms of government practicable in the existing condition of society, a rational choice. chapter ii--the criterion of a good form of government. the form of government for any given country being (within certain definite conditions) amenable to choice, it is now to be considered by what test the choice should be directed; what are the distinctive characteristics of the form of government best fitted to promote the interests of any given society. before entering into this inquiry, it may seem necessary to decide what are the proper functions of government; for, government altogether being only a means, the eligibility of the means must depend on their adaptation to the end. but this mode of stating the problem gives less aid to its investigation than might be supposed, and does not even bring the whole of the question into view. for, in the first place, the proper functions of a government are not a fixed thing, but different in different states of society; much more extensive in a backward than in an advanced state. and, secondly, the character of a government or set of political institutions can not be sufficiently estimated while we confine our attention to the legitimate sphere of governmental functions; for, though the goodness of a government is necessarily circumscribed within that sphere, its badness unhappily is not. every kind and degree of evil of which mankind are susceptible may be inflicted on them by their government, and none of the good which social existence is capable of can be any further realized than as the constitution of the government is compatible with, and allows scope for, its attainment. not to speak of indirect effects, the direct meddling of the public authorities has no necessary limits but those of human life, and the influence of government on the well-being of society can be considered or estimated in reference to nothing less than the whole of the interests of humanity. being thus obliged to place before ourselves, as the test of good and bad government, so complex an object as the aggregate interests of society, we would willingly attempt some kind of classification of those interests, which, bringing them before the mind in definite groups, might give indication of the qualities by which a form of government is fitted to promote those various interests respectively. it would be a great facility if we could say the good of society consists of such and such elements; one of these elements requires such conditions, another such others; the government, then, which unites in the greatest degree all these conditions, must be the best. the theory of government would thus be built up from the separate theorems of the elements which compose a good state of society. unfortunately, to enumerate and classify the constituents of social well-being, so as to admit of the formation of such theorems is no easy task. most of those who, in the last or present generation, have applied themselves to the philosophy of politics in any comprehensive spirit, have felt the importance of such a classification, but the attempts which have been made toward it are as yet limited, so far as i am aware, to a single step. the classification begins and ends with a partition of the exigencies of society between the two heads of order and progress (in the phraseology of french thinkers); permanence and progression, in the words of coleridge. this division is plausible and seductive, from the apparently clean-cut opposition between its two members, and the remarkable difference between the sentiments to which they appeal. but i apprehend that (however admissible for purposes of popular discourse) the distinction between order, or permanence and progress, employed to define the qualities necessary in a government, is unscientific and incorrect. for, first, what are order and progress? concerning progress there is no difficulty, or none which is apparent at first sight. when progress is spoken of as one of the wants of human society, it may be supposed to mean improvement. that is a tolerably distinct idea. but what is order? sometimes it means more, sometimes less, but hardly ever the whole of what human society needs except improvement. in its narrowest acceptation, order means obedience. a government is said to preserve order if it succeeds in getting itself obeyed. but there are different degrees of obedience, and it is not every degree that is commendable. only an unmitigated despotism demands that the individual citizen shall obey unconditionally every mandate of persons in authority. we must at least limit the definition to such mandates as are general, and issued in the deliberate form of laws. order, thus understood, expresses, doubtless, an indispensable attribute of government. those who are unable to make their ordinances obeyed, can not be said to govern. but, though a necessary condition, this is not the object of government. that it should make itself obeyed is requisite, in order that it may accomplish some other purpose. we are still to seek what is this other purpose, which government ought to fulfill abstractedly from the idea of improvement, and which has to be fulfilled in every society, whether stationary or progressive. in a sense somewhat more enlarged, order means the preservation of peace by the cessation of private violence. order is said to exist where the people of the country have, as a general rule, ceased to prosecute their quarrels by private force, and acquired the habit of referring the decision of their disputes and the redress of their injuries to the public authorities. but in this larger use of the term, as well as in the former narrow one, order expresses rather one of the conditions of government, than either its purpose or the criterion of its excellence; for the habit may be well established of submitting to the government, and referring all disputed matters to its authority, and yet the manner in which the government deals with those disputed matters, and with the other things about which it concerns itself, may differ by the whole interval which divides the best from the worst possible. if we intend to comprise in the idea of order all that society requires from its government which is not included in the idea of progress, we must define order as the preservation of all kinds and amounts of good which already exist, and progress as consisting in the increase of them. this distinction does comprehend in one or the other section every thing which a government can be required to promote. but, thus understood, it affords no basis for a philosophy of government. we can not say that, in constituting a polity, certain provisions ought to be made for order and certain others for progress, since the conditions of order, in the sense now indicated, and those of progress, are not opposite, but the same. the agencies which tend to preserve the social good which already exists are the very same which promote the increase of it, and _vice versâ_, the sole difference being, that a greater degree of those agencies is required for the latter purpose than for the former. what, for example, are the qualities in the citizens individually which conduce most to keep up the amount of good conduct, of good management, of success and prosperity, which already exist in society? every body will agree that those qualities are industry, integrity, justice, and prudence. but are not these, of all qualities, the most conducive to improvement? and is not any growth of these virtues in the community in itself the greatest of improvements? if so, whatever qualities in the government are promotive of industry, integrity, justice, and prudence, conduce alike to permanence and to progression, only there is needed more of those qualities to make the society decidedly progressive than merely to keep it permanent. what, again, are the particular attributes in human beings which seem to have a more especial reference to progress, and do not so directly suggest the ideas of order and preservation? they are chiefly the qualities of mental activity, enterprise, and courage. but are not all these qualities fully as much required for preserving the good we have as for adding to it? if there is any thing certain in human affairs, it is that valuable acquisitions are only to be retained by the continuation of the same energies which gained them. things left to take care of themselves inevitably decay. those whom success induces to relax their habits of care and thoughtfulness, and their willingness to encounter disagreeables, seldom long retain their good fortune at its height. the mental attribute which seems exclusively dedicated to progress, and is the culmination of the tendencies to it, is originality, or invention. yet this is no less necessary for permanence, since, in the inevitable changes of human affairs, new inconveniences and dangers continually grow up, which must be encountered by new resources and contrivances, in order to keep things going on even only as well as they did before. whatever qualities, therefore, in a government, tend to encourage activity, energy, courage, originality, are requisites of permanence as well as of progress, only a somewhat less degree of them will, on the average, suffice for the former purpose than for the latter. to pass now from the mental to the outward and objective requisites of society: it is impossible to point out any contrivance in politics, or arrangement of social affairs, which conduces to order only, or to progress only; whatever tends to either promotes both. take, for instance, the common institution of a police. order is the object which seems most immediately interested in the efficiency of this part of the social organization. yet, if it is effectual to promote order, that is, if it represses crime, and enables every one to feel his person and property secure, can any state of things be more conducive to progress? the greater security of property is one of the main conditions and causes of greater production, which is progress in its most familiar and vulgarest aspect. the better repression of crime represses the dispositions which tend to crime, and this is progress in a somewhat higher sense. the release of the individual from the cares and anxieties of a state of imperfect protection sets his faculties free to be employed in any new effort for improving his own state and that of others, while the same cause, by attaching him to social existence, and making him no longer see present or prospective enemies in his fellow creatures, fosters all those feelings of kindness and fellowship towards others, and interest in the general well-being of the community, which are such important parts of social improvement. take, again, such a familiar case as that of a good system of taxation and finance. this would generally be classed as belonging to the province of order. yet what can be more conducive to progress? a financial system which promotes the one, conduces, by the very same excellences, to the other. economy, for example, equally preserves the existing stock of national wealth, and favors the creation of more. a just distribution of burdens, by holding up to every citizen an example of morality and good conscience applied to difficult adjustments, and an evidence of the value which the highest authorities attach to them, tends in an eminent degree to educate the moral sentiments of the community, both in respect of strength and of discrimination. such a mode of levying the taxes as does not impede the industry, or unnecessarily interfere with the liberty of the citizen, promotes, not the preservation only, but the increase of the national wealth, and encourages a more active use of the individual faculties. and _vice versâ_, all errors in finance and taxation which obstruct the improvement of the people in wealth and morals, tend also, if of sufficiently serious amount, positively to impoverish and demoralize them. it holds, in short, universally, that when order and permanence are taken in their widest sense for the stability of existing advantages, the requisites of progress are but the requisites of order in a greater degree; those of permanence merely those of progress in a somewhat smaller measure. in support of the position that order is intrinsically different from progress, and that preservation of existing and acquisition of additional good are sufficiently distinct to afford the basis of a fundamental classification, we shall perhaps be reminded that progress may be at the expense of order; that while we are acquiring, or striving to acquire, good of one kind, we may be losing ground in respect to others; thus there may be progress in wealth, while there is deterioration in virtue. granting this, what it proves is, not that progress is generically a different thing from permanence, but that wealth is a different thing from virtue. progress is permanence and something more; and it is no answer to this to say that progress in one thing does not imply permanence in every thing. no more does progress in one thing imply progress in every thing. progress of any kind includes permanence in that same kind: whenever permanence is sacrificed to some particular kind of progress, other progress is still more sacrificed to it; and if it be not worth the sacrifice, not the interest of permanence alone has been disregarded, but the general interest of progress has been mistaken. if these improperly contrasted ideas are to be used at all in the attempt to give a first commencement of scientific precision to the notion of good government, it would be more philosophically correct to leave out of the definition the word order, and to say that the best government is that which is most conducive to progress. for progress includes order, but order does not include progress. progress is a greater degree of that of which order is a less. order, in any other sense, stands only for a part of the prerequisites of good government, not for its idea and essence. order would find a more suitable place among the conditions of progress, since, if we would increase our sum of good, nothing is more indispensable than to take due care of what we already have. if we are endeavouring after more riches, our very first rule should be, not to squander uselessly our existing means. order, thus considered, is not an additional end to be reconciled with progress, but a part and means of progress itself. if a gain in one respect is purchased by a more than equivalent loss in the same or in any other, there is not progress. conduciveness to progress, thus understood, includes the whole excellence of a government. but, though metaphysically defensible, this definition of the criterion of good government is not appropriate, because, though it contains the whole of the truth, it recalls only a part. what is suggested by the term progress is the idea of moving onward, whereas the meaning of it here is quite as much the prevention of falling back. the very same social causes--the same beliefs, feelings, institutions, and practices--are as much required to prevent society from retrograding as to produce a further advance. were there no improvement to be hoped for, life would not be the less an unceasing struggle against causes of deterioration, as it even now is. politics, as conceived by the ancients, consisted wholly in this. the natural tendency of men and their works was to degenerate, which tendency, however, by good institutions virtuously administered, it might be possible for an indefinite length of time to counteract. though we no longer hold this opinion; though most men in the present age profess the contrary creed, believing that the tendency of things, on the whole, is toward improvement, we ought not to forget that there is an incessant and ever-flowing current of human affairs toward the worse, consisting of all the follies, all the vices, all the negligences, indolences, and supinenesses of mankind, which is only controlled, and kept from sweeping all before it, by the exertions which some persons constantly, and others by fits, put forth in the direction of good and worthy objects. it gives a very insufficient idea of the importance of the strivings which take place to improve and elevate human nature and life to suppose that their chief value consists in the amount of actual improvement realized by their means, and that the consequence of their cessation would merely be that we should remain as we are. a very small diminution of those exertions would not only put a stop to improvement, but would turn the general tendency of things toward deterioration, which, once begun, would proceed with increasingly rapidity, and become more and more difficult to check, until it reached a state often seen in history, and in which many large portions of mankind even now grovel; when hardly any thing short of superhuman power seems sufficient to turn the tide, and give a fresh commencement to the upward movement. these reasons make the word progress as unapt as the terms order and permanence to become the basis for a classification of the requisites of a form of government. the fundamental antithesis which these words express does not lie in the things themselves, so much as in the types of human character which answer to them. there are, we know, some minds in which caution, and others in which boldness, predominates; in some, the desire to avoid imperilling what is already possessed is a stronger sentiment than that which prompts to improve the old and acquire new advantages; while there are others who lean the contrary way, and are more eager for future than careful of present good. the road to the ends of both is the same; but they are liable to wander from it in opposite directions. this consideration is of importance in composing the _personnel_ of any political body: persons of both types ought to be included in it, that the tendencies of each may be tempered, in so far as they are excessive, by a due proportion of the other. there needs no express provision to insure this object, provided care is taken to admit nothing inconsistent with it. the natural and spontaneous admixture of the old and the young, of those whose position and reputation are made and those who have them still to make, will in general sufficiently answer the purpose, if only this natural balance is not disturbed by artificial regulation. since the distinction most commonly adopted for the classification of social exigencies does not possess the properties needful for that use, we have to seek for some other leading distinction better adapted to the purpose. such a distinction would seem to be indicated by the considerations to which i now proceed. if we ask ourselves on what causes and conditions good government in all its senses, from the humblest to the most exalted, depends, we find that the principal of them, the one which transcends all others, is the qualities of the human beings composing the society over which the government is exercised. we may take, as a first instance, the administration of justice; with the more propriety, since there is no part of public business in which the mere machinery, the rules and contrivances for conducting the details of the operation, are of such vital consequence. yet even these yield in importance to the qualities of the human agents employed. of what efficacy are rules of procedure in securing the ends of justice if the moral condition of the people is such that the witnesses generally lie, and the judges and their subordinates take bribes? again, how can institutions provide a good municipal administration if there exists such indifference to the subject that those who would administer honestly and capably can not be induced to serve, and the duties are left to those who undertake them because they have some private interest to be promoted? of what avail is the most broadly popular representative system if the electors do not care to choose the best member of parliament, but choose him who will spend most money to be elected? how can a representative assembly work for good if its members can be bought, or if their excitability of temperament, uncorrected by public discipline or private self-control, makes them incapable of calm deliberation, and they resort to manual violence on the floor of the house, or shoot at one another with rifles? how, again, can government, or any joint concern, be carried on in a tolerable manner by people so envious that, if one among them seems likely to succeed in any thing, those who ought to cooperate with him form a tacit combination to make him fail? whenever the general disposition of the people is such that each individual regards those only of his interests which are selfish, and does not dwell on, or concern himself for, his share of the general interest, in such a state of things good government is impossible. the influence of defects of intelligence in obstructing all the elements of good government requires no illustration. government consists of acts done by human beings; and if the agents, or those who choose the agents, or those to whom the agents are responsible, or the lookers-on whose opinion ought to influence and check all these, are mere masses of ignorance, stupidity, and baleful prejudice, every operation of government will go wrong; while, in proportion as the men rise above this standard, so will the government improve in quality up to the point of excellence, attainable but nowhere attained, where the officers of government, themselves persons of superior virtue and intellect, are surrounded by the atmosphere of a virtuous and enlightened public opinion. the first element of good government, therefore, being the virtue and intelligence of the human beings composing the community, the most important point of excellence which any form of government can possess is to promote the virtue and intelligence of the people themselves. the first question in respect to any political institutions is how far they tend to foster in the members of the community the various desirable qualities, moral and intellectual, or rather (following bentham's more complete classification) moral, intellectual, and active. the government which does this the best has every likelihood of being the best in all other respects, since it is on these qualities, so far as they exist in the people, that all possibility of goodness in the practical operations of the government depends. we may consider, then, as one criterion of the goodness of a government, the degree in which it tends to increase the sum of good qualities in the governed, collectively and individually, since, besides that their well-being is the sole object of government, their good qualities supply the moving force which works the machinery. this leaves, as the other constituent element of the merit of a government, the quality of the machinery itself; that is, the degree in which it is adapted to take advantage of the amount of good qualities which may at any time exist, and make them instrumental to the right purposes. let us again take the subject of judicature as an example and illustration. the judicial system being given, the goodness of the administration of justice is in the compound ratio of the worth of the men composing the tribunals, and the worth of the public opinion which influences or controls them. but all the difference between a good and a bad system of judicature lies in the contrivances adopted for bringing whatever moral and intellectual worth exists in the community to bear upon the administration of justice, and making it duly operative on the result. the arrangements for rendering the choice of the judges such as to obtain the highest average of virtue and intelligence; the salutary forms of procedure; the publicity which allows observation and criticism of whatever is amiss; the liberty of discussion and cinsure through the press; the mode of taking evidence, according as it is well or ill adapted to elicit truth; the facilities, whatever be their amount, for obtaining access to the tribunals; the arrangements for detecting crimes and apprehending offenders-all these things are not the power, but the machinery for bringing the power into contact with the obstacle; and the machinery has no action of itself, but without it the power, let it be ever so ample, would be wasted and of no effect. a similar distinction exists in regard to the constitution of the executive departments of administration. their machinery is good, when the proper tests are prescribed for the qualifications of officers, the proper rules for their promotion; when the business is conveniently distributed among those who are to transact it, a convenient and methodical order established for its transaction, a correct and intelligible record kept of it after being transacted; when each individual knows for what he is responsible, and is known to others as responsible for it; when the best-contrived checks are provided against negligence, favoritism, or jobbery in any of the acts of the department. but political checks will no more act of themselves than a bridle will direct a horse without a rider. if the checking functionaries are as corrupt or as negligent as those whom they ought to check, and if the public, the mainspring of the whole checking machinery, are too ignorant, too passive, or too careless and inattentive to do their part, little benefit will be derived from the best administrative apparatus. yet a good apparatus is always preferable to a bad. it enables such insufficient moving or checking power as exists to act at the greatest advantage; and without it, no amount of moving or checking power would be sufficient. publicity, for instance, is no impediment to evil, nor stimulus to good, if the public will not look at what is done; but without publicity, how could they either check or encourage what they were not permitted to see? the ideally perfect constitution of a public office is that in which the interest of the functionary is entirely coincident with his duty. no mere system will make it so, but still less can it be made so without a system, aptly devised for the purpose. what we have said of the arrangements for the detailed administration of the government is still more evidently true of its general constitution. all government which aims at being good is an organization of some part of the good qualities existing in the individual members of the community for the conduct of its collective affairs. a representative constitution is a means of bringing the general standard of intelligence and honesty existing in the community, and the individual intellect and virtue of its wisest members, more directly to bear upon the government, and investing them with greater influence in it than they would have under any other mode of organization; though, under any, such influence as they do have is the source of all good that there is in the government, and the hindrance of every evil that there is not. the greater the amount of these good qualities which the institutions of a country succeed in organizing, and the better the mode of organization, the better will be the government. we have now, therefore, obtained a foundation for a twofold division of the merit which any set of political institutions can possess. it consists partly of the degree in which they promote the general mental advancement of the community, including under that phrase advancement in intellect, in virtue, and in practical activity and efficiency, and partly of the degree of perfection with which they organize the moral, intellectual, and active worth already existing, so as to operate with the greatest effect on public affairs. a government is to be judged by its action upon men and by its action upon things; by what it makes of the citizens, and what it does with them; its tendency to improve or deteriorate the people themselves, and the goodness or badness of the work it performs for them, and by means of them. government is at once a great influence acting on the human mind, and a set of organized arrangements for public business: in the first capacity its beneficial action is chiefly indirect, but not therefore less vital, while its mischievous action may be direct. the difference between these two functions of a government is not, like that between order and progress, a difference merely in degree, but in kind. we must not, however, suppose that they have no intimate connection with one another. the institutions which insure the best management of public affairs practicable in the existing state of cultivation tend by this alone to the further improvement of that state. a people which had the most just laws, the purest and most efficient judicature, the most enlightened administration, the most equitable and least onerous system of finance, compatible with the stage it had attained in moral and intellectual advancement, would be in a fair way to pass rapidly into a higher stage. nor is there any mode in which political institutions can contribute more effectually to the improvement of the people than by doing their more direct work well. and reversely, if their machinery is so badly constructed that they do their own particular business ill, the effect is felt in a thousand ways in lowering the morality and deadening the intelligence and activity of the people. but the distinction is nevertheless real, because this is only one of the means by which political institutions improve or deteriorate the human mind, and the causes and modes of that beneficial or injurious influence remain a distinct and much wider subject of study. of the two modes of operation by which a form of government or set of political institutions affects the welfare of the community--its operation as an agency of national education, and its arrangements for conducting the collective affairs of the community in the state of education in which they already are, the last evidently varies much less, from difference of country and state of civilization, than the first. it has also much less to do with the fundamental constitution of the government. the mode of conducting the practical business of government, which is best under a free constitution, would generally be best also in an absolute monarchy, only an absolute monarchy is not so likely to practice it. the laws of property, for example; the principles of evidence and judicial procedure; the system of taxation and of financial administration, need not necessarily be different in different forms of government. each of these matters has principles and rules of its own, which are a subject of separate study. general jurisprudence, civil and penal legislation, financial and commercial policy, are sciences in themselves, or, rather, separate members of the comprehensive science or art of government; and the most enlightened doctrines on all these subjects, though not equally likely to be understood and acted on under all forms of government, yet, if understood and acted on, would in general be equally beneficial under them all. it is true that these doctrines could not be applied without some modifications to all states of society and of the human mind; nevertheless, by far the greater number of them would require modifications solely of detail to adapt them to any state of society sufficiently advanced to possess rulers capable of understanding them. a government to which they would be wholly unsuitable must be one so bad in itself, or so opposed to public feeling, as to be unable to maintain itself in existence by honest means. it is otherwise with that portion of the interests of the community which relate to the better or worse training of the people themselves. considered as instrumental to this, institutions need to be radically different, according to the stage of advancement already reached. the recognition of this truth, though for the most part empirically rather than philosophically, may be regarded as the main point of superiority in the political theories of the present above those of the last age, in which it was customary to claim representative democracy for england or france by arguments which would equally have proved it the only fit form of government for bedouins or malays. the state of different communities, in point of culture and development, ranges downwards to a condition very little above the highest of the beasts. the upward range, too, is considerable, and the future possible extension vastly greater. a community can only be developed out of one of these states into a higher by a concourse of influences, among the principal of which is the government to which they are subject. in all states of human improvement ever yet attained, the nature and degree of authority exercised over individuals, the distribution of power, and the conditions of command and obedience, are the most powerful of the influences, except their religious belief, which make them what they are, and enable them to become what they can be. they may be stopped short at any point in their progress by defective adaptation of their government to that particular stage of advancement. and the one indispensable merit of a government, in favor of which it may be forgiven almost any amount of other demerit compatible with progress, is that its operation on the people is favorable, or not unfavorable, to the next step which it is necessary for them to take in order to raise themselves to a higher level. thus (to repeat a former example), a people in a state of savage independence, in which every one lives for himself, exempt, unless by fits, from any external control, is practically incapable of making any progress in civilization until it has learned to obey. the indispensable virtue, therefore, in a government which establishes itself over a people of this sort is that it make itself obeyed. to enable it to do this, the constitution of the government must be nearly, or quite despotic. a constitution in any degree popular, dependent on the voluntary surrender by the different members of the community of their individual freedom of action, would fail to enforce the first lesson which the pupils, in this stage of their progress, require. accordingly, the civilization of such tribes, when not the result of juxtaposition with others already civilized, is almost always the work of an absolute ruler, deriving his power either from religion or military prowess--very often from foreign arms. again, uncivilized races, and the bravest and most energetic still more than the rest, are averse to continuous labor of an unexciting kind. yet all real civilization is at this price; without such labor, neither can the mind be disciplined into the habits required by civilized society, nor the material world prepared to receive it. there needs a rare concurrence of circumstances, and for that reason often a vast length of time, to reconcile such a people to industry, unless they are for a while compelled to it. hence even personal slavery, by giving a commencement to industrial life, and enforcing it as the exclusive occupation of the most numerous portion of the community, may accelerate the transition to a better freedom than that of fighting and rapine. it is almost needless to say that this excuse for slavery is only available in a very early state of society. a civilized people have far other means of imparting civilization to those under their influence; and slavery is, in all its details, so repugnant to that government of law, which is the foundation of all modern life, and so corrupting to the master-class when they have once come under civilized influences, that its adoption under any circumstances whatever in modern society is a relapse into worse than barbarism. at some period, however, of their history, almost every people, now civilized, have consisted, in majority, of slaves. a people in that condition require to raise them out of it a very different polity from a nation of savages. if they are energetic by nature, and especially if there be associated with them in the same community an industrious class who are neither slaves nor slave-owners (as was the case in greece), they need, probably, no more to insure their improvement than to make them free: when freed, they may often be fit, like roman freedmen, to be admitted at once to the full rights of citizenship. this, however, is not the normal condition of slavery, and is generally a sign that it is becoming obsolete. a slave, properly so called, is a being who has not learned to help himself. he is, no doubt, one step in advance of a savage. he has not the first lesson of political society still to acquire. he has learned to obey. but what he obeys is only a direct command. it is the characteristic of _born_ slaves to be incapable of conforming their conduct to a rule or law. they can only do what they are ordered, and only when they are ordered to do it. if a man whom they fear is standing over them and threatening them with punishment, they obey; but when his back is turned, the work remains undone. the motive determining them must appeal, not to their interests, but to their instincts; immediate hope or immediate terror. a despotism, which may tame the savage, will, in so far as it is a despotism, only confirm the slaves in their incapacities. yet a government under their own control would be entirely unmanageable by them. their improvement can not come from themselves, but must be superinduced from without. the step which they have to take, and their only path to improvement, is to be raised from a government of will to one of law. they have to be taught self-government, and this, in its initial stage, means the capacity to act on general instructions. what they require is not a government of force, but one of guidance. being, however, in too low a state to yield to the guidance of any but those to whom they look up as the possessors of force, the sort of government fittest for them is one which possesses force, but seldom uses it; a parental despotism or aristocracy, resembling the st. simonian form of socialism; maintaining a general superintendence over all the operations of society, so as to keep before each the sense of a present force sufficient to compel his obedience to the rule laid down, but which, owing to the impossibility of descending to regulate all the minutiæ of industry and life, necessarily leaves and induces individuals to do much of themselves. this, which may be termed the government of leading-strings, seems to be the one required to carry such a people the most rapidly through the next necessary step in social progress. such appears to have been the idea of the government of the incas of peru, and such was that of the jesuits of paraguay. i need scarcely remark that leading-strings are only admissible as a means of gradually training the people to walk alone. it would be out of place to carry the illustration further. to attempt to investigate what kind of government is suited to every known state of society would be to compose a treatise, not on representative government, but on political science at large. for our more limited purpose we borrow from political philosophy only its general principles. to determine the form of government most suited to any particular people, we must be able, among the defects and shortcomings which belong to that people, to distinguish those that are the immediate impediment to progress--to discover what it is which (as it were) stops the way. the best government for them is the one which tends most to give them that for want of which they can not advance, or advance only in a lame and lopsided manner. we must not, however, forget the reservation necessary in all things which have for their object improvement or progress, namely, that in seeking the good which is needed, no damage, or as little as possible, be done to that already possessed. a people of savages should be taught obedience, but not in such a manner as to convert them into a people of slaves. and (to give the observation a higher generality) the form of government which is most effectual for carrying a people through the next stage of progress will still be very improper for them if it does this in such a manner as to obstruct, or positively unfit them for, the step next beyond. such cases are frequent, and are among the most melancholy facts in history. the egyptian hierarchy, the paternal despotism of china, were very fit instruments for carrying those nations up to the point of civilization which they attained. but having reached that point, they were brought to a permanent halt for want of mental liberty and individuality--requisites of improvement which the institutions that had carried them thus far entirely incapacitated them from acquiring--and as the institutions did not break down and give place to others, further improvement stopped. in contrast with these nations, let us consider the example of an opposite character afforded by another and a comparatively insignificant oriental people--the jews. they, too, had an absolute monarchy and a hierarchy, and their organized institutions were as obviously of sacerdotal origin as those of the hindoos. these did for them what was done for other oriental races by their institutions--subdued them to industry and order, and gave them a national life. but neither their kings nor their priests ever obtained, as in those other countries, the exclusive moulding of their character. their religion, which enabled persons of genius and a high religious tone to be regarded and to regard themselves as inspired from heaven, gave existence to an inestimably precious unorganized institution--the order (if it may be so termed) of prophets. under the protection, generally though not always effectual, of their sacred character, the prophets were a power in the nation, often more than a match for kings and priests, and kept up, in that little corner of the earth, the antagonism of influences which is the only real security for continued progress. religion, consequently, was not there what it has been in so many other places--a consecration of all that was once established, and a barrier against further improvement. the remark of a distinguished hebrew, m. salvador, that the prophets were, in church and state, the equivalent of the modern liberty of the press, gives a just but not an adequate conception of the part fulfilled in national and universal history by this great element of jewish life; by means of which, the canon of inspiration never being complete, the persons most eminent in genius and moral feeling could not only denounce and reprobate, with the direct authority of the almighty, whatever appeared to them deserving of such treatment, but could give forth better and higher interpretations of the national religion, which thenceforth became part of the religion. accordingly, whoever can divest himself of the habit of reading the bible as if it was one book, which until lately was equally inveterate in christians and in unbelievers, sees with admiration the vast interval between the morality and religion of the pentateuch, or even of the historical books (the unmistakable work of hebrew conservatives of the sacerdotal order), and the morality and religion of the prophecies--a distance as wide as between these last and the gospels. conditions more favorable to progress could not easily exist; accordingly, the jews, instead of being stationary like other asiatics, were, next to the greeks, the most progressive people of antiquity, and, jointly with them, have been the starting-point and main propelling agency of modern cultivation. it is, then, impossible to understand the question of the adaptation of forms of government to states of society, without taking into account not only the next step, but all the steps which society has yet to make; both those which can be foreseen, and the far wider indefinite range which is at present out of sight. it follows, that to judge of the merits of forms of government, an ideal must be constructed of the form of government most eligible in itself, that is, which, if the necessary conditions existed for giving effect to its beneficial tendencies, would, more than all others, favor and promote, not some one improvement, but all forms and degrees of it. this having been done, we must consider what are the mental conditions of all sorts necessary to enable this government to realize its tendencies, and what, therefore, are the various defects by which a people is made incapable of reaping its benefits. it would then be possible to construct a theorem of the circumstances in which that form of government may wisely be introduced; and also to judge, in cases in which it had better not be introduced, what inferior forms of polity will best carry those communities through the intermediate stages which they must traverse before they can become fit for the best form of government. of these inquiries, the last does not concern us here, but the first is an essential part of our subject; for we may, without rashness, at once enunciate a proposition, the proofs and illustrations of which will present themselves in the ensuing pages, that this ideally best form of government will be found in some one or other variety of the representative system. chapter iii--that the ideally best form of government is representative government. it has long (perhaps throughout the entire duration of british freedom) been a common form of speech, that if a good despot could be insured, despotic monarchy would be the best form of government. i look upon this as a radical and most pernicious misconception of what good government is, which, until it can be got rid of, will fatally vitiate all our speculations on government. the supposition is, that absolute power, in the hands of an eminent individual, would insure a virtuous and intelligent performance of all the duties of government. good laws would be established and enforced, bad laws would be reformed; the best men would be placed in all situations of trust; justice would be as well administered, the public burdens would be as light and as judiciously imposed, every branch of administration would be as purely and as intelligently conducted as the circumstances of the country and its degree of intellectual and moral cultivation would admit. i am willing, for the sake of the argument, to concede all this, but i must point out how great the concession is, how much more is needed to produce even an approximation to these results than is conveyed in the simple expression, a good despot. their realization would in fact imply, not merely a good monarch, but an all-seeing one. he must be at all times informed correctly, in considerable detail, of the conduct and working of every branch of administration, in every district of the country, and must be able, in the twenty-four hours per day, which are all that is granted to a king as to the humblest laborer, to give an effective share of attention and superintendence to all parts of this vast field; or he must at least be capable of discerning and choosing out, from among the mass of his subjects, not only a large abundance of honest and able men, fit to conduct every branch of public administration under supervision and control, but also the small number of men of eminent virtues and talents who can be trusted not only to do without that supervision, but to exercise it themselves over others. so extraordinary are the faculties and energies required for performing this task in any supportable manner, that the good despot whom we are supposing can hardly be imagined as consenting to undertake it unless as a refuge from intolerable evils, and a transitional preparation for something beyond. but the argument can do without even this immense item in the account. suppose the difficulty vanquished. what should we then have? one man of superhuman mental activity managing the entire affairs of a mentally passive people. their passivity is implied in the very idea of absolute power. the nation as a whole, and every individual composing it, are without any potential voice in their own destiny. they exercise no will in respect to their collective interests. all is decided for them by a will not their own, which it is legally a crime for them to disobey. what sort of human beings can be formed under such a regimen? what development can either their thinking or their active faculties attain under it? on matters of pure theory they might perhaps be allowed to speculate, so long as their speculations either did not approach politics, or had not the remotest connection with its practice. on practical affairs they could at most be only suffered to suggest; and even under the most moderate of despots, none but persons of already admitted or reputed superiority could hope that their suggestions would be known to, much less regarded by, those who had the management of affairs. a person must have a very unusual taste for intellectual exercise in and for itself who will put himself to the trouble of thought when it is to have no outward effect, or qualify himself for functions which he has no chance of being allowed to exercise. the only sufficient incitement to mental exertion, in any but a few minds in a generation, is the prospect of some practical use to be made of its results. it does not follow that the nation will be wholly destitute of intellectual power. the common business of life, which must necessarily be performed by each individual or family for themselves, will call forth some amount of intelligence and practical ability, within a certain narrow range of ideas. there may be a select class of _savants_ who cultivate science with a view to its physical uses or for the pleasure of the pursuit. there will be a bureaucracy, and persons in training for the bureaucracy, who will be taught at least some empirical maxims of government and public administration. there may be, and often has been, a systematic organization of the best mental power in the country in some special direction (commonly military) to promote the grandeur of the despot. but the public at large remain without information and without interest on all greater matters of practice; or, if they have any knowledge of them, it is but a _dilettante_ knowledge, like that which people have of the mechanical arts who have never handled a tool. nor is it only in their intelligence that they suffer. their moral capacities are equally stunted. wherever the sphere of action of human beings is artificially circumscribed, their sentiments are narrowed and dwarfed in the same proportion. the food of feeling is action; even domestic affection lives upon voluntary good offices. let a person have nothing to do for his country, and he will not care for it. it has been said of old that in a despotism there is at most but one patriot, the despot himself; and the saying rests on a just appreciation of the effects of absolute subjection even to a good and wise master. religion remains; and here, at least, it may be thought, is an agency that may be relied on for lifting men's eyes and minds above the dust at their feet. but religion, even supposing it to escape perversion for the purposes of despotism, ceases in these circumstances to be a social concern, and narrows into a personal affair between an individual and his maker, in which the issue at stake is but his private salvation. religion in this shape is quite consistent with the most selfish and contracted egoism, and identifies the votary as little in feeling with the rest of his kind as sensuality itself. a good despotism means a government in which, so far as depends on the despot, there is no positive oppression by officers of state, but in which all the collective interests of the people are managed for them, all the thinking that has relation to collective interests done for them, and in which their minds are formed by, and consenting to, this abdication of their own energies. leaving things to the government, like leaving them to providence, is synonymous with caring nothing about them, and accepting their results, when disagreeable, as visitations of nature. with the exception, therefore, of a few studious men who take an intellectual interest in speculation for its own sake, the intelligence and sentiments of the whole people are given up to the material interests, and when these are provided for, to the amusement and ornamentation of private life. but to say this is to say, if the whole testimony of history is worth any thing, that the era of national decline has arrived; that is, if the nation had ever attained any thing to decline from. if it has never risen above the condition of an oriental people, in that condition it continues to stagnate; but if, like greece or rome, it had realized any thing higher, through the energy, patriotism, and enlargement of mind, which, as national qualities, are the fruits solely of freedom, it relapses in a few generations into the oriental state. and that state does not mean stupid tranquillity, with security against change for the worse; it often means being overrun, conquered, and reduced to domestic slavery either by a stronger despot, or by the nearest barbarous people who retain along with their savage rudeness the energies of freedom. such are not merely the natural tendencies, but the inherent necessities of despotic government; from which there is no outlet, unless in so far as the despotism consents not to be despotism; in so far as the supposed good despot abstains from exercising his power, and, though holding it in reserve, allows the general business of government to go on as if the people really governed themselves. however little probable it may be, we may imagine a despot observing many of the rules and restraints of constitutional government. he might allow such freedom of the press and of discussion as would enable a public opinion to form and express itself on national affairs. he might suffer local interests to be managed, without the interference of authority, by the people themselves. he might even surround himself with a council or councils of government, freely chosen by the whole or some portion of the nation, retaining in his own hands the power of taxation, and the supreme legislative as well as executive authority. were he to act thus, and so far abdicate as a despot, he would do away with a considerable part of the evils characteristic of despotism. political activity and capacity for public affairs would no longer be prevented from growing up in the body of the nation, and a public opinion would form itself, not the mere echo of the government. but such improvement would be the beginning of new difficulties. this public opinion, independent of the monarch's dictation, must be either with him or against him; if not the one, it will be the other. all governments must displease many persons, and these having now regular organs, and being able to express their sentiments, opinions adverse to the measures of government would often be expressed. what is the monarch to do when these unfavorable opinions happen to be in the majority? is he to alter his course? is he to defer to the nation? if so, he is no longer a despot, but a constitutional king; an organ or first minister of the people, distinguished only by being irremovable. if not, he must either put down opposition by his despotic power, or there will arise a permanent antagonism between the people and one man, which can have but one possible ending. not even a religious principle of passive obedience and "right divine" would long ward off the natural consequences of such a position. the monarch would have to succumb, and conform to the conditions of constitutional royalty, or give place to some one who would. the despotism, being thus chiefly nominal, would possess few of the advantages supposed to belong to absolute monarchy, while it would realize in a very imperfect degree those of a free government, since, however great an amount of liberty the citizens might practically enjoy, they could never forget that they held it on sufferance, and by a concession which, under the existing constitution of the state might at any moment be resumed; that they were legally slaves, though of a prudent or indulgent master. it is not much to be wondered at if impatient or disappointed reformers, groaning under the impediments opposed to the most salutary public improvements by the ignorance, the indifference, the untractableness, the perverse obstinacy of a people, and the corrupt combinations of selfish private interests, armed with the powerful weapons afforded by free institutions, should at times sigh for a strong hand to bear down all these obstacles, and compel a recalcitrant people to be better governed. but (setting aside the fact that for one despot who now and then reforms an abuse, there are ninety-nine who do nothing but create them) those who look in any such direction for the realization of their hopes leave out of the idea of good government its principal element, the improvement of the people themselves. one of the benefits of freedom is that under it the ruler can not pass by the people's minds, and amend their affairs for them without amending _them_. if it were possible for the people to be well governed in spite of themselves, their good government would last no longer than the freedom of a people usually lasts who have been liberated by foreign arms without their own co-operation. it is true, a despot may educate the people, and to do so really would be the best apology for his despotism. but any education which aims at making human beings other than machines, in the long run makes them claim to have the control of their own actions. the leaders of french philosophy in the eighteenth century had been educated by the jesuits. even jesuit education, it seems, was sufficiently real to call forth the appetite for freedom. whatever invigorates the faculties, in however small a measure, creates an increased desire for their more unimpeded exercise; and a popular education is a failure if it educates the people for any state but that which it will certainly induce them to desire, and most probably to demand. i am far from condemning, in cases of extreme exigency, the assumption of absolute power in the form of a temporary dictatorship. free nations have, in times of old, conferred such power by their own choice, as a necessary medicine for diseases of the body politic which could not be got rid of by less violent means. but its acceptance, even for a time strictly limited, can only be excused, if, like solon or pittacus, the dictator employs the whole power he assumes in removing the obstacles which debar the nation from the enjoyment of freedom. a good despotism is an altogether false ideal, which practically (except as a means to some temporary purpose) becomes the most senseless and dangerous of chimeras. evil for evil, a good despotism, in a country at all advanced in civilization, is more noxious than a bad one, for it is far more relaxing and enervating to the thoughts, feelings, and energies of the people. the despotism of augustus prepared the romans for tiberius. if the whole tone of their character had not first been prostrated by nearly two generations of that mild slavery, they would probably have had spirit enough left to rebel against the more odious one. there is no difficulty in showing that the ideally best form of government is that in which the sovereignty, or supreme controlling power in the last resort, is vested in the entire aggregate of the community, every citizen not only having a voice in the exercise of that ultimate sovereignty, but being, at least occasionally, called on to take an actual part in the government by the personal discharge of some public function, local or general. to test this proposition, it has to be examined in reference to the two branches into which, as pointed out in the last chapter, the inquiry into the goodness of a government conveniently divides itself, namely, how far it promotes the good management of the affairs of society by means of the existing faculties, moral, intellectual, and active, of its various members, and what is its effect in improving or deteriorating those faculties. the ideally best form of government, it is scarcely necessary to say, does not mean one which is practicable or eligible in all states of civilization, but the one which, in the circumstances in which it is practicable and eligible, is attended with the greatest amount of beneficial consequences, immediate and prospective. a completely popular government is the only polity which can make out any claim to this character. it is pre-eminent in both the departments between which the excellence of a political constitution is divided. it is both more favorable to present good government, and promotes a better and higher form of national character than any other polity whatsoever. its superiority in reference to present well-being rests upon two principles, of as universal truth and applicability as any general propositions which can be laid down respecting human affairs. the first is, that the rights and interests of every or any person are only secure from being disregarded when the person interested is himself able, and habitually disposed to stand up for them. the second is, that the general prosperity attains a greater height, and is more widely diffused, in proportion to the amount and variety of the personal energies enlisted in promoting it. putting these two propositions into a shape more special to their present application--human beings are only secure from evil at the hands of others in proportion as they have the power of being, and are, self-_protecting_; and they only achieve a high degree of success in their struggle with nature in proportion as they are self-_dependent_, relying on what they themselves can do, either separately or in concert, rather than on what others do for them. the former proposition--that each is the only safe guardian of his own rights and interests--is one of those elementary maxims of prudence which every person capable of conducting his own affairs implicitly acts upon wherever he himself is interested. many, indeed, have a great dislike to it as a political doctrine, and are fond of holding it up to obloquy as a doctrine of universal selfishness. to which we may answer, that whenever it ceases to be true that mankind, as a rule, prefer themselves to others, and those nearest to them to those more remote, from that moment communism is not only practicable, but the only defensible form of society, and will, when that time arrives, be assuredly carried into effect. for my own part, not believing in universal selfishness, i have no difficulty in admitting that communism would even now be practicable among the _élite_ of mankind, and may become so among the rest. but as this opinion is any thing but popular with those defenders of existing institutions who find fault with the doctrine of the general predominance of self-interest, i am inclined to think they do in reality believe that most men consider themselves before other people. it is not, however, necessary to affirm even thus much in order to support the claim of all to participate in the sovereign power. we need not suppose that when power resides in an exclusive class, that class will knowingly and deliberately sacrifice the other classes to themselves: it suffices that, in the absence of its natural defenders, the interest of the excluded is always in danger of being overlooked; and, when looked at, is seen with very different eyes from those of the persons whom it directly concerns. in this country, for example, what are called the working-classes may be considered as excluded from all direct participation in the government. i do not believe that the classes who do participate in it have in general any intention of sacrificing the working classes to themselves. they once had that intention; witness the persevering attempts so long made to keep down wages by law. but in the present day, their ordinary disposition is the very opposite: they willingly make considerable sacrifices, especially of their pecuniary interest, for the benefit of the working classes, and err rather by too lavish and indiscriminating beneficence; nor do i believe that any rulers in history have been actuated by a more sincere desire to do their duty towards the poorer portion of their countrymen. yet does parliament, or almost any of the members composing it, ever for an instant look at any question with the eyes of a working man? when a subject arises in which the laborers as such have an interest, is it regarded from any point of view but that of the employers of labor? i do not say that the working men's view of these questions is in general nearer to the truth than the other, but it is sometimes quite as near; and in any case it ought to be respectfully listened to, instead of being, as it is, not merely turned away from, but ignored. on the question of strikes, for instance, it is doubtful if there is so much as one among the leading members of either house who is not firmly convinced that the reason of the matter is unqualifiedly on the side of the masters, and that the men's view of it is simply absurd. those who have studied the question know well how far this is from being the case, and in how different, and how infinitely less superficial a manner the point would have to be argued, if the classes who strike were able to make themselves heard in parliament. it is an adherent condition of human affairs that no intention, however sincere, of protecting the interests of others can make it safe or salutary to tie up their own hands. still more obviously true is it that by their own hands only can any positive and durable improvement of their circumstances in life be worked out. through the joint influence of these two principles, all free communities have both been more exempt from social injustice and crime, and have attained more brilliant prosperity than any others, or than they themselves after they lost their freedom. contrast the free states of the world, while their freedom lasted, with the cotemporary subjects of monarchical or oligarchical despotism: the greek cities with the persian satrapies; the italian republics and the free towns of flanders and germany, with the feudal monarchies of europe; switzerland, holland, and england, with austria or ante-revolutionary france. their superior prosperity was too obvious ever to have been gainsayed; while their superiority in good government and social relations is proved by the prosperity, and is manifest besides in every page of history. if we compare, not one age with another, but the different governments which coexisted in the same age, no amount of disorder which exaggeration itself can pretend to have existed amidst the publicity of the free states can be compared for a moment with the contemptuous trampling upon the mass of the people which pervaded the whole life of the monarchical countries, or the disgusting individual tyranny which was of more than daily occurrence under the systems of plunder which they called fiscal arrangements, and in the secrecy of their frightful courts of justice. it must be acknowledged that the benefits of freedom, so far as they have hitherto been enjoyed, were obtained by the extension of its privileges to a part only of the community; and that a government in which they are extended impartially to all is a desideratum still unrealized. but, though every approach to this has an independent value, and in many cases more than an approach could not, in the existing state of general improvement, be made, the participation of all in these benefits is the ideally perfect conception of free government. in proportion as any, no matter who, are excluded from it, the interests of the excluded are left without the guaranty accorded to the rest, and they themselves have less scope and encouragement than they might otherwise have to that exertion of their energies for the good of themselves and of the community, to which the general prosperity is always proportioned. thus stands the case as regards present well-being--the good management of the affairs of the existing generation. if we now pass to the influence of the form of government upon character, we shall find the superiority of popular government over every other to be, if possible, still more decided and indisputable. this question really depends upon a still more fundamental one, viz., which of two common types of character, for the general good of humanity, it is most desirable should predominate--the active or the passive type; that which struggles against evils, or that which endures them; that which bends to circumstances, or that which endeavours to make circumstances bend to itself. the commonplaces of moralists and the general sympathies of mankind are in favor of the passive type. energetic characters may be admired, but the acquiescent and submissive are those which most men personally prefer. the passiveness of our neighbors increases our sense of security, and plays into the hands of our wilfulness. passive characters, if we do not happen to need their activity, seem an obstruction the less in our own path. a contented character is not a dangerous rival. yet nothing is more certain than that improvement in human affairs is wholly the work of the uncontented characters; and, moreover, that it is much easier for an active mind to acquire the virtues of patience, than for a passive one to assume those of energy. of the three varieties of mental excellence, intellectual, practical, and moral, there never could be any doubt in regard to the first two, which side had the advantage. all intellectual superiority is the fruit of active effort. enterprise, the desire to keep moving, to be trying and accomplishing new things for our own benefit or that of others, is the parent even of speculative, and much more of practical, talent. the intellectual culture compatible with the other type is of that feeble and vague description which belongs to a mind that stops at amusement or at simple contemplation. the test of real and vigorous thinking, the thinking which ascertains truths instead of dreaming dreams, is successful application to practice. where that purpose does not exist, to give definiteness, precision, and an intelligible meaning to thought, it generates nothing better than the mystical metaphysics of the pythagoreans or the veds. with respect to practical improvement, the case is still more evident. the character which improves human life is that which struggles with natural powers and tendencies, not that which gives way to them. the self-benefiting qualities are all on the side of the active and energetic character, and the habits and conduct which promote the advantage of each individual member of the community must be at least a part of those which conduce most in the end to the advancement of the community as a whole. but on the point of moral preferability, there seems at first sight to be room for doubt. i am not referring to the religious feeling which has so generally existed in favor of the inactive character, as being more in harmony with the submission due to the divine will. christianity, as well as other religions, has fostered this sentiment; but it is the prerogative of christianity, as regards this and many other perversions, that it is able to throw them off. abstractedly from religious considerations, a passive character, which yields to obstacles instead of striving to overcome them, may not indeed be very useful to others, no more than to itself, but it might be expected to be at least inoffensive. contentment is always counted among the moral virtues. but it is a complete error to suppose that contentment is necessarily or naturally attendant on passivity of character; and useless it is, the moral consequences are mischievous. where there exists a desire for advantages not possessed, the mind which does not potentially possess them by means of its own energies is apt to look with hatred and malice on those who do. the person bestirring himself with hopeful prospects to improve his circumstances is the one who feels good-will towards others engaged in, or who have succeeded in the same pursuit. and where the majority are so engaged, those who do not attain the object have had the tone given to their feelings by the general habit of the country, and ascribe their failure to want of effort or opportunity, or to their personal ill luck. but those who, while desiring what others possess, put no energy into striving for it, are either incessantly grumbling that fortune does not do for them what they do not attempt to do for themselves, or overflowing with envy and ill-will towards those who possess what they would like to have. in proportion as success in life is seen or believed to be the fruit of fatality or accident and not of exertion in that same ratio does envy develop itself as a point of national character. the most envious of all mankind are the orientals. in oriental moralists, in oriental tales, the envious man is remarkably prominent. in real life, he is the terror of all who possess any thing desirable, be it a palace, a handsome child, or even good health and spirits: the supposed effect of his mere look constitutes the all-pervading superstition of the evil eye. next to orientals in envy, as in activity, are some of the southern europeans. the spaniards pursued all their great men with it, embittered their lives, and generally succeeded in putting an early stop to their successes. [ ] with the french, who are essentially a southern people, the double education of despotism and catholicism has, in spite of their impulsive temperament, made submission and endurance the common character of the people, and their most received notion of wisdom and excellence; and if envy of one another, and of all superiority, is not more rife among them than it is, the circumstance must be ascribed to the many valuable counteracting elements in the french character, and most of all to the great individual energy which, though less persistent and more intermittent than in the self-helping and struggling anglo-saxons, has nevertheless manifested itself among the french in nearly every direction in which the operation of their institutions has been favorable to it. there are, no doubt, in all countries, really contented characters, who not merely do not seek, but do not desire, what they do not already possess, and these naturally bear no ill-will towards such as have apparently a more favored lot. but the great mass of seeming contentment is real discontent, combined with indolence or self-indulgence, which, while taking no legitimate means of raising itself, delights in bringing others down to its own level. and if we look narrowly even at the cases of innocent contentment, we perceive that they only win our admiration when the indifference is solely to improvement in outward circumstances, and there is a striving for perpetual advancement in spiritual worth, or at least a disinterested zeal to benefit others. the contented man, or the contented family, who have no ambition to make any one else happier, to promote the good of their country or their neighborhood, or to improve themselves in moral excellence, excite in us neither admiration nor approval. we rightly ascribe this sort of contentment to mere unmanliness and want of spirit. the content which we approve is an ability to do cheerfully without what can not be had, a just appreciation of the comparative value of different objects of desire, and a willing renunciation of the less when incompatible with the greater. these, however, are excellences more natural to the character, in proportion as it is actively engaged in the attempt to improve its own or some other lot. he who is continually measuring his energy against difficulties, learns what are the difficulties insuperable to him, and what are those which, though he might overcome, the success is not worth the cost. he whose thoughts and activities are all needed for, and habitually employed in, practicable and useful enterprises, is the person of all others least likely to let his mind dwell with brooding discontent upon things either not worth attaining, or which are not so to him. thus the active, self-helping character is not only intrinsically the best, but is the likeliest to acquire all that is really excellent or desirable in the opposite type. the striving, go-ahead character of england and the united states is only a fit subject of disapproving criticism on account of the very secondary objects on which it commonly expends its strength. in itself it is the foundation of the best hopes for the general improvement of mankind. it has been acutely remarked that whenever any thing goes amiss, the habitual impulse of french people is to say, "il faut de la patience;" and of english people, "what a shame!" the people who think it a shame when any thing goes wrong--who rush to the conclusion that the evil could and ought to have been prevented, are those who, in the long run, do most to make the world better. if the desires are low placed, if they extend to little beyond physical comfort, and the show of riches, the immediate results of the energy will not be much more than the continual extension of man's power over material objects; but even this makes room, and prepares the mechanical appliances for the greatest intellectual and social achievements; and while the energy is there, some persons will apply it, and it will be applied more and more, to the perfecting, not of outward circumstances alone, but of man's inward nature. inactivity, unaspiringness, absence of desire, are a more fatal hindrance to improvement than any misdirection of energy, and is that through which alone, when existing in the mass, any very formidable misdirection by an energetic few becomes possible. it is this, mainly, which retains in a savage or semi-savage state the great majority of the human race. now there can be no kind of doubt that the passive type of character is favored by the government of one or a few, and the active self-helping type by that of the many. irresponsible rulers need the quiescence of the ruled more than they need any activity but that which they can compel. submissiveness to the prescriptions of men as necessities of nature is the lesson inculcated by all governments upon those who are wholly without participation in them. the will of superiors, and the law as the will of superiors, must be passively yielded to. but no men are mere instruments or materials in the hands of their rulers who have will, or spirit, or a spring of internal activity in the rest of their proceedings, and any manifestation of these qualities, instead of receiving encouragement from despots, has to get itself forgiven by them. even when irresponsible rulers are not sufficiently conscious of danger from the mental activity of their subjects to be desirous of repressing it, the position itself is a repression. endeavour is even more effectually restrained by the certainty of its impotence than by any positive discouragement. between subjection to the will of others and the virtues of self-help and self-government there is a natural incompatibility. this is more or less complete according as the bondage is strained or relaxed. rulers differ very much in the length to which they carry the control of the free agency of their subjects, or the supersession of it by managing their business for them. but the difference is in degree, not in principle; and the best despots often go the greatest lengths in chaining up the free agency of their subjects. a bad despot, when his own personal indulgences have been provided for, may sometimes be willing to let the people alone; but a good despot insists on doing them good by making them do their own business in a better way than they themselves know of. the regulations which restricted to fixed processes all the leading branches of french manufactures were the work of the great colbert. very different is the state of the human faculties where a human being feels himself under no other external restraint than the necessities of nature, or mandates of society which he has his share in imposing, and which it is open to him, if he thinks them wrong, publicly to dissent from, and exert himself actively to get altered. no doubt, under a government partially popular, this freedom may be exercised even by those who are not partakers in the full privileges of citizenship; but it is a great additional stimulus to any one's self-help and self-reliance when he starts from even ground, and has not to feel that his success depends on the impression he can make upon the sentiments and dispositions of a body of whom he is not one. it is a great discouragement to an individual, and a still greater one to a class, to be left out of the constitution; to be reduced to plead from outside the door to the arbiters of their destiny, not taken into consultation within. the maximum of the invigorating effect of freedom upon the character is only obtained when the person acted on either is, or is looking forward to becoming, a citizen as fully privileged as any other. what is still more important than even this matter of feeling is the practical discipline which the character obtains from the occasional demand made upon the citizens to exercise, for a time and in their turn, some social function. it is not sufficiently considered how little there is in most men's ordinary life to give any largeness either to their conceptions or to their sentiments. their work is a routine; not a labor of love, but of self-interest in the most elementary form, the satisfaction of daily wants; neither the thing done, nor the process of doing it, introduces the mind to thoughts or feelings extending beyond individuals; if instructive books are within their reach, there is no stimulus to read them; and, in most cases, the individual has no access to any person of cultivation much superior to his own. giving him something to do for the public supplies, in a measure, all these deficiencies. if circumstances allow the amount of public duty assigned him to be considerable, it makes him an educated man. notwithstanding the defects of the social system and moral ideas of antiquity, the practice of the dicastery and the ecclesia raised the intellectual standard of an average athenian citizen far beyond any thing of which there is yet an example in any other mass of men, ancient or modern. the proofs of this are apparent in every page of our great historian of greece; but we need scarcely look further than to the high quality of the addresses which their great orators deemed best calculated to act with effect on their understanding and will. a benefit of the same kind, though far less in degree, is produced on englishmen of the lower middle class by their liability to be placed on juries and to serve parish offices, which, though it does not occur to so many, nor is so continuous, nor introduces them to so great a variety of elevated considerations as to admit of comparison with the public education which every citizen of athens obtained from her democratic institutions, makes them nevertheless very different beings, in range of ideas and development of faculties, from those who have done nothing in their lives but drive a quill, or sell goods over a counter. still more salutary is the moral part of the instruction afforded by the participation of the private citizen, if even rarely, in public functions. he is called upon, while so engaged, to weigh interests not his own; to be guided, in case of conflicting claims, by another rule than his private partialities; to apply, at every turn, principles and maxims which have for their reason of existence the general good; and he usually finds associated with him in the same work minds more familiarized than his own with these ideas and operations, whose study it will be to supply reasons to his understanding, and stimulation to his feeling for the general interest. he is made to feel himself one of the public, and whatever is their interest to be his interest. where this school of public spirit does not exist, scarcely any sense is entertained that private persons, in no eminent social situation, owe any duties to society except to obey the laws and submit to the government. there is no unselfish sentiment of identification with the public. every thought or feeling, either of interest or of duty, is absorbed in the individual and in the family. the man never thinks of any collective interest, of any objects to be pursued jointly with others, but only in competition with them, and in some measure at their expense. a neighbor, not being an ally or an associate, since he is never engaged in any common undertaking for joint benefit, is therefore only a rival. thus even private morality suffers, while public is actually extinct. were this the universal and only possible state of things, the utmost aspirations of the lawgiver or the moralist could only stretch to make the bulk of the community a flock of sheep innocently nibbling the grass side by side. from these accumulated considerations, it is evident that the only government which can fully satisfy all the exigencies of the social state is one in which the whole people participate; that any participation, even in the smallest public function, is useful; that the participation should every where be as great as the general degree of improvement of the community will allow; and that nothing less can be ultimately desirable than the admission of all to a share in the sovereign power of the state. but since all can not, in a community exceeding a single small town, participate personally in any but some very minor portions of the public business, it follows that the ideal type of a perfect government must be representative. chapter iv--under what social conditions representative government is inapplicable. we have recognized in representative government the ideal type of the most perfect polity for which, in consequence, any portion of mankind are better adapted in proportion to their degree of general improvement. as they range lower and lower in development, that form of government will be, generally speaking, less suitable to them, though this is not true universally; for the adaptation of a people to representative government does not depend so much upon the place they occupy in the general scale of humanity as upon the degree in which they possess certain special requisites; requisites, however, so closely connected with their degree of general advancement, that any variation between the two is rather the exception than the rule. let us examine at what point in the descending series representative government ceases altogether to be admissible, either through its own unfitness or the superior fitness of some other regimen. first, then, representative, like any other government, must be unsuitable in any case in which it can not permanently subsist--_i.e._, in which it does not fulfill the three fundamental conditions enumerated in the first chapter. these were, . that the people should be willing to receive it. . that they should be willing and able to do what is necessary for its preservation. . that they should be willing and able to fulfill the duties and discharge the functions which it imposes on them. the willingness of the people to accept representative government only becomes a practical question when an enlightened ruler, or a foreign nation or nations who have gained power over the country, are disposed to offer it the boon. to individual reformers the question is almost irrelevant, since, if no other objection can be made to their enterprise than that the opinion of the nation is not yet on their side, they have the ready and proper answer, that to bring it over to their side is the very end they aim at. when opinion is really adverse, its hostility is usually to the fact of change rather than to representative government in itself. the contrary case is not indeed unexampled; there has sometimes been a religious repugnance to any limitation of the power of a particular line of rulers; but, in general, the doctrine of passive obedience meant only submission to the will of the powers that be, whether monarchical or popular. in any case in which the attempt to introduce representative government is at all likely to be made, indifference to it, and inability to understand its processes and requirements, rather than positive opposition, are the obstacles to be expected. these, however, are as fatal, and may be as hard to be got rid of as actual aversion; it being easier, in most cases, to change the direction of an active feeling than to create one in a state previously passive. when a people have no sufficient value for, and attachment to, a representative constitution, they have next to no chance of retaining it. in every country, the executive is the branch of the government which wields the immediate power, and is in direct contact with the public; to it, principally, the hopes and fears of individuals are directed, and by it both the benefits, and the terrors, and _prestige_ of government are mainly represented to the public eye. unless, therefore, the authorities whose office it is to check the executive are backed by an effective opinion and feeling in the country, the executive has always the means of setting them aside or compelling them to subservience, and is sure to be well supported in doing so. representative institutions necessarily depend for permanence upon the readiness of the people to fight for them in case of their being endangered. if too little valued for this, they seldom obtain a footing at all, and if they do, are almost sure to be overthrown as soon as the head of the government, or any party leader who can muster force for a _coup de main_, is willing to run some small risk for absolute power. these considerations relate to the first two causes of failure in a representative government. the third is when the people want either the will or the capacity to fulfill the part which belongs to them in a representative constitution. when nobody, or only some small fraction, feels the degree of interest in the general affairs of the state necessary to the formation of a public opinion, the electors will seldom make any use of the right of suffrage but to serve their private interest, or the interest of their locality, or of some one with whom they are connected as adherents or dependents. the small class who, in this state of public feeling, gain the command of the representative body, for the most part use it solely as a means of seeking their fortune. if the executive is weak, the country is distracted by mere struggles for place; if strong, it makes itself despotic, at the cheap price of appeasing the representatives, or such of them as are capable of giving trouble, by a share of the spoil; and the only fruit produced by national representation is, that in addition to those who really govern, there is an assembly quartered on the public, and no abuse in which a portion of the assembly are interested is at all likely to be removed. when, however, the evil stops here, the price may be worth paying for the publicity and discussion which, though not an invariable, are a natural accompaniment of any, even nominal, representation. in the modern kingdom of greece, for example, it can hardly be doubted, that the place-hunters who chiefly compose the representative assembly, though they contribute little or nothing directly to good government, nor even much temper the arbitrary power of the executive, yet keep up the idea of popular rights, and conduce greatly to the real liberty of the press which exists in that country. this benefit, however, is entirely dependent on the coexistence with the popular body of an hereditary king. if, instead of struggling for the favors of the chief ruler, these selfish and sordid factions struggled for the chief place itself, they would certainly, as in spanish america, keep the country in a state of chronic revolution and civil war. a despotism, not even legal, but of illegal violence, would be alternately exercised by a succession of political adventurers, and the name and forms of representation would have no effect but to prevent despotism from attaining the stability and security by which alone its evils can be mitigated or its few advantages realized. the preceding are the cases in which representative government can not permanently exist. there are others in which it possibly might exist, but in which some other form of government would be preferable. these are principally when the people, in order to advance in civilization, have some lesson to learn, some habit not yet acquired, to the acquisition of which representative government is likely to be an impediment. the most obvious of these cases is the one already considered, in which the people have still to learn the first lesson of civilization, that of obedience. a race who have been trained in energy and courage by struggles with nature and their neighbors, but who have not yet settled down into permanent obedience to any common superior, would be little likely to acquire this habit under the collective government of their own body. a representative assembly drawn from among themselves would simply reflect their own turbulent insubordination. it would refuse its authority to all proceedings which would impose, on their savage independence, any improving restraint. the mode in which such tribes are usually brought to submit to the primary conditions of civilized society is through the necessities of warfare, and the despotic authority indispensable to military command. a military leader is the only superior to whom they will submit, except occasionally some prophet supposed to be inspired from above, or conjurer regarded as possessing miraculous power. these may exercise a temporary ascendancy, but as it is merely personal, it rarely effects any change in the general habits of the people, unless the prophet, like mohammed, is also a military chief, and goes forth the armed apostle of a new religion; or unless the military chiefs ally themselves with his influence, and turn it into a prop for their own government. a people are no less unfitted for representative government by the contrary fault to that last specified--by extreme passiveness, and ready submission to tyranny. if a people thus prostrated by character and circumstances could obtain representative institutions, they would inevitably choose their tyrants as their representatives, and the yoke would be made heavier on them by the contrivance which _primâ facie_ might be expected to lighten it. on the contrary, many a people has gradually emerged from this condition by the aid of a central authority, whose position has made it the rival, and has ended by making it the master, of the local despots, and which, above all, has been single. french history, from hugh capet to richelieu and louis xiv., is a continued example of this course of things. even when the king was scarcely so powerful as many of his chief feudatories, the great advantage which he derived from being but one has been recognized by french historians. to him the eyes of _all_ the locally oppressed were turned; he was the object of hope and reliance throughout the kingdom, while each local potentate was only powerful within a more or less confined space. at his hands, refuge and protection were sought from every part of the country against first one, then another of the immediate oppressors. his progress to ascendancy was slow; but it resulted from successively taking advantage of opportunities which offered themselves only to him. it was, therefore, sure; and, in proportion as it was accomplished, it abated, in the oppressed portion of the community, the habit of submitting to oppression. the king's interest lay in encouraging all partial attempts on the part of the serfs to emancipate themselves from their masters, and place themselves in immediate subordination to himself. under his protection numerous communities were formed which knew no one above them but the king. obedience to a distant monarch is liberty itself compared with the dominion of the lord of the neighboring castle; and the monarch was long compelled by necessities of position to exert his authority as the ally rather than the master of the classes whom he had aided in affecting their liberation. in this manner a central power, despotic in principle, though generally much restricted in practice, was mainly instrumental in carrying the people through a necessary stage of improvement, which representative government, if real, would most likely have prevented them from entering upon. there are parts of europe where the same work is still to be done, and no prospect of its being done by any other means. nothing short of despotic rule or a general massacre could effect the emancipation of the serfs in the russian empire. the same passages of history forcibly illustrate another mode in which unlimited monarchy overcomes obstacles to the progress of civilization which representative government would have had a decided tendency to aggravate. one of the strongest hindrances to improvement, up to a rather advanced stage, is an inveterate spirit of locality. portions of mankind, in many other respects capable of, and prepared for freedom, may be unqualified for amalgamating into even the smallest nation. not only may jealousies and antipathies repel them from one another, and bar all possibility of voluntary union, but they may not yet have acquired any of the feelings or habits which would make the union real, supposing it to be nominally accomplished. they may, like the citizens of an ancient community, or those of an asiatic village, have had considerable practice in exercising their faculties on village or town interests, and have even realized a tolerably effective popular government on that restricted scale, and may yet have but slender sympathies with any thing beyond, and no habit or capacity of dealing with interests common to many such communities. i am not aware that history furnishes any example in which a number of these political atoms or corpuscles have coalesced into a body, and learned to feel themselves one people, except through previous subjection to a central authority common to all. [ ] it is through the habit of deferring to that authority, entering into its plans and subserving its purposes, that a people such as we have supposed receive into their minds the conception of large interests common to a considerable geographical extent. such interests, on the contrary, are necessarily the predominant consideration in the mind of the central ruler; and through the relations, more or less intimate, which he progressively establishes with the localities, they become familiar to the general mind. the most favorable concurrence of circumstances under which this step in improvement could be made would be one which should raise up representative institutions without representative government; a representative body or bodies, drawn from the localities, making itself the auxiliary and instrument of the central power, but seldom attempting to thwart or control it. the people being thus taken, as it were, into council, though not sharing the supreme power, the political education given by the central authority is carried home, much more effectually than it could otherwise be, to the local chiefs and to the population generally, while, at the same time, a tradition is kept up of government by general consent, or at least, the sanction of tradition is not given to government without it, which, when consecrated by custom, has so often put a bad end to a good beginning, and is one of the most frequent causes of the sad fatality which in most countries has stopped improvement in so early a stage, because the work of some one period has been so done as to bar the needful work of the ages following. meanwhile, it may be laid down as a political truth, that by irresponsible monarchy rather than by representative government can a multitude of insignificant political units be welded into a people, with common feelings of cohesion, power enough to protect itself against conquest or foreign aggression, and affairs sufficiently various and considerable of its own to occupy worthily and expand to fit proportions the social and political intelligence of the population. for these several reasons, kingly government, free from the control (though perhaps strengthened by the support) of representative institutions, is the most suitable form of polity for the earliest stages of any community, not excepting a city community like those of ancient greece; where, accordingly, the government of kings, under some real, but no ostensible or constitutional control by public opinion, did historically precede by an unknown and probably great duration all free institutions, and gave place at last, during a considerable lapse of time, to oligarchies of a few families. a hundred other infirmities or shortcomings in a people might be pointed out which _pro tanto_ disqualify them from making the best use of representative government; but in regard to these it is not equally obvious that the government of one or a few would have any tendency to cure or alleviate the evil. strong prejudices of any kind; obstinate adherence to old habits; positive defects of national character, or mere ignorance, and deficiency of mental cultivation, if prevalent in a people, will be in general faithfully reflected in their representative assemblies; and should it happen that the executive administration, the direct management of public affairs, is in the hands of persons comparatively free from these defects, more good would frequently be done by them when not hampered by the necessity of carrying with them the voluntary assent of such bodies. but the mere position of the rulers does not in these, as it does in the other cases which we have examined, of itself invest them with interests and tendencies operating in the beneficial direction. from the general weaknesses of the people or of the state of civilization, the one and his councillors, or the few, are not likely to be habitually exempt; except in the case of their being foreigners, belonging to a superior people or a more advanced state of society. then, indeed, the rulers may be, to almost any extent, superior in civilization to those over whom they rule; and subjection to a foreign government of this description, notwithstanding its inevitable evils, is often of the greatest advantage to a people, carrying them rapidly through several stages of progress, and clearing away obstacles to improvement which might have lasted indefinitely if the subject population had been left unassisted to its native tendencies and chances. in a country not under the dominion of foreigners, the only cause adequate to producing similar benefits is the rare accident of a monarch of extraordinary genius. there have been in history a few of these who, happily for humanity, have reigned long enough to render some of their improvements permanent, by leaving them under the guardianship of a generation which had grown up under their influence. charlemagne may be cited as one instance; peter the great is another. such examples however are so unfrequent that they can only be classed with the happy accidents which have so often decided at a critical moment whether some leading portion of humanity should make a sudden start, or sink back towards barbarism--chances like the existence of themistocles at the time of the persian invasion, or of the first or third william of orange. it would be absurd to construct institutions for the mere purpose of taking advantage of such possibilities, especially as men of this calibre, in any distinguished position, do not require despotic power to enable them to exert great influence, as is evidenced by the three last mentioned. the case most requiring consideration in reference to institutions is the not very uncommon one in which a small but leading portion of the population, from difference of race, more civilized origin, or other peculiarities of circumstance, are markedly superior in civilization and general character to the remainder. under those conditions, government by the representatives of the mass would stand a chance of depriving them of much of the benefit they might derive from the greater civilization of the superior ranks, while government by the representatives of those ranks would probably rivet the degradation of the multitude, and leave them no hope of decent treatment except by ridding themselves of one of the most valuable elements of future advancement. the best prospect of improvement for a people thus composed lies in the existence of a constitutionally unlimited, or at least a practically preponderant authority in the chief ruler of the dominant class. he alone has by his position an interest in raising and improving the mass, of whom he is not jealous, as a counterpoise to his associates, of whom he is; and if fortunate circumstances place beside him, not as controllers but as subordinates, a body representative of the superior caste, which, by its objections and questionings, and by its occasional outbreaks of spirit, keeps alive habits of collective resistance, and may admit of being, in time and by degrees, expanded into a really national representation (which is in substance the history of the english parliament), the nation has then the most favorable prospects of improvement which can well occur to a community thus circumstanced and constituted. among the tendencies which, without absolutely rendering a people unfit for representative government, seriously incapacitate them from reaping the full benefit of it, one deserves particular notice. there are two states of the inclinations, intrinsically very different, but which have something in common, by virtue of which they often coincide in the direction they give to the efforts of individuals and of nations; one is, the desire to exercise power over others; the other is disinclination to have power exercised over themselves. the difference between different portions of mankind in the relative strength of these two dispositions is one of the most important elements in their history. there are nations in whom the passion for governing others is so much stronger than the desire of personal independence, that for the mere shadow of the one they are found ready to sacrifice the whole of the other. each one of their number is willing, like the private soldier in an army, to abdicate his personal freedom of action into the hands of his general, provided the army is triumphant and victorious, and he is able to flatter himself that he is one of a conquering host, though the notion that he has himself any share in the domination exercised over the conquered is an illusion. a government strictly limited in its powers and attributions, required to hold its hands from overmeddling, and to let most things go on without its assuming the part of guardian or director, is not to the taste of such a people; in their eyes the possessors of authority can hardly take too much upon themselves, provided the authority itself is open to general competition. an average individual among them prefers the chance, however distant or improbable, of wielding some share of power over his fellow-citizens, above the certainty, to himself and others, of having no unnecessary power exercised over them. these are the elements of a people of place-hunters, in whom the course of politics is mainly determined by place-hunting; where equality alone is cared for, but not liberty; where the contests of political parties are but struggles to decide whether the power of meddling in every thing shall belong to one class or another, perhaps merely to one knot of public men or another; where the idea entertained of democracy is merely that of opening offices to the competition of all instead of a few; where, the more popular the institutions, the more innumerable are the places created, and the more monstrous the overgovernment exercised by all over each, and by the executive over all. it would be as unjust as it would be ungenerous to offer this, or any thing approaching to it, as an unexaggerated picture of the french people; yet the degree in which they do participate in this type of character has caused representative government by a limited class to break down by excess of corruption, and the attempt at representative government by the whole male population to end in giving one man the power of consigning any number of the rest, without trial, to lambessa or cayenne, provided he allows all of them to think themselves not excluded from the possibility of sharing his favors. the point of character which, beyond any other, fits the people of this country for representative government, is that they have almost universally the contrary characteristic. they are very jealous of any attempt to exercise power over them not sanctioned by long usage and by their own opinion of right; but they in general care very little for the exercise of power over others. not having the smallest sympathy with the passion for governing, while they are but too well acquainted with the motives of private interest from which that office is sought, they prefer that it should be performed by those to whom it comes without seeking, as a consequence of social position. if foreigners understood this, it would account to them for some of the apparent contradictions in the political feelings of englishmen; their unhesitating readiness to let themselves be governed by the higher classes, coupled with so little personal subservience to them, that no people are so fond of resisting authority when it oversteps certain prescribed limits, or so determined to make their rulers always remember that they will only be governed in the way they themselves like best. place-hunting, accordingly, is a form of ambition to which the english, considered nationally, are almost strangers. if we except the few families or connections of whom official employment lies directly in the way, englishmen's views of advancement in life take an altogether different direction--that of success in business or in a profession. they have the strongest distaste for any mere struggle for office by political parties or individuals; and there are few things to which they have a greater aversion than to the multiplication of public employments; a thing, on the contrary, always popular with the bureaucracy-ridden nations of the continent, who would rather pay higher taxes than diminish, by the smallest fraction, their individual chances of a place for themselves or their relatives, and among whom a cry for retrenchment never means abolition of offices, but the reduction of the salaries of those which are too considerable for the ordinary citizen to have any chance of being appointed to them. chapter v--of the proper functions of representative bodies. in treating of representative government, it is above all necessary to keep in view the distinction between its idea or essence, and the particular forms in which the idea has been clothed by accidental historical developments, or by the notions current at some particular period. the meaning of representative government is, that the whole people, or some numerous portion of them, exercise through deputies periodically elected by themselves the ultimate controlling power, which, in every constitution, must reside somewhere. this ultimate power they must possess in all its completeness. they must be masters, whenever they please, of all the operations of government. there is no need that the constitutional law should itself give them this mastery. it does not in the british constitution. but what it does give practically amounts to this: the power of final control is as essentially single, in a mixed and balanced government, as in a pure monarchy or democracy. this is the portion of truth in the opinion of the ancients, revived by great authorities in our own time, that a balanced constitution is impossible. there is almost always a balance, but the scales never hang exactly even. which of them preponderates is not always apparent on the face of the political institutions. in the british constitution, each of the three co-ordinate members of the sovereignty is invested with powers which, if fully exercised, would enable it to stop all the machinery of government. nominally, therefore, each is invested with equal power of thwarting and obstructing the others; and if, by exerting that power, any of the three could hope to better its position, the ordinary course of human affairs forbids us to doubt that the power would be exercised. there can be no question that the full powers of each would be employed defensively if it found itself assailed by one or both of the others. what, then, prevents the same powers from being exerted aggressively? the unwritten maxims of the constitution--in other words, the positive political morality of the country; and this positive political morality is what we must look to if we would know in whom the really supreme power in the constitution resides. by constitutional law, the crown can refuse its assent to any act of parliament, and can appoint to office and maintain in it any minister, in opposition to the remonstrances of parliament. but the constitutional morality of the country nullifies these powers, preventing them from being ever used; and, by requiring that the head of the administration should always be virtually appointed by the house of commons, makes that body the real sovereign of the state. these unwritten rules, which limit the use of lawful powers, are, however, only effectual, and maintain themselves in existence on condition of harmonising with the actual distribution of real political strength. there is in every constitution a strongest power--one which would gain the victory if the compromises by which the constitution habitually works were suspended, and there came a trial of strength. constitutional maxims are adhered to, and are practically operative, so long as they give the predominance in the constitution to that one of the powers which has the preponderance of active power out of doors. this, in england, is the popular power. if, therefore, the legal provisions of the british constitution, together with the unwritten maxims by which the conduct of the different political authorities is in fact regulated, did not give to the popular element in the constitution that substantial supremacy over every department of the government which corresponds to its real power in the country, the constitution would not possess the stability which characterizes it; either the laws or the unwritten maxims would soon have to be changed. the british government is thus a representative government in the correct sense of the term; and the powers which it leaves in hands not directly accountable to the people can only be considered as precautions which the ruling power is willing should be taken against its own errors. such precautions have existed in all well-constructed democracies. the athenian constitution had many such provisions, and so has that of the united states. but while it is essential to representative government that the practical supremacy in the state should reside in the representatives of the people, it is an open question what actual functions, what precise part in the machinery of government, shall be directly and personally discharged by the representative body. great varieties in this respect are compatible with the essence of representative government, provided the functions are such as secure to the representative body the control of every thing in the last resort. there is a radical distinction between controlling the business of government and actually doing it. the same person or body may be able to control every thing, but can not possibly do every thing; and in many cases its control over every thing will be more perfect the less it personally attempts to do. the commander of an army could not direct its movements effectually if he himself fought in the ranks or led an assault. it is the same with bodies of men. some things can not be done except by bodies; other things can not be well done by them. it is one question, therefore, what a popular assembly should control, another what it should itself do. it should, as we have already seen, control all the operations of government. but, in order to determine through what channel this general control may most expediently be exercised, and what portion of the business of government the representative assembly should hold in its own hands, it is necessary to consider what kinds of business a numerous body is competent to perform properly. that alone which it can do well it ought to take personally upon itself. with regard to the rest, its proper province is not to do it, but to take means for having it well done by others. for example, the duty which is considered as belonging more peculiarly than any other to an assembly representative of the people is that of voting the taxes. nevertheless, in no country does the representative body undertake, by itself or its delegated officers, to prepare the estimates. though the supplies can only be voted by the house of commons, and though the sanction of the house is also required for the appropriation of the revenues to the different items of the public expenditure, it is the maxim and the uniform practice of the constitution that money can be granted only on the proposition of the crown. it has, no doubt, been felt that moderation as to the amount, and care and judgment in the detail of its application, can only be expected when the executive government, through whose hands it is to pass, is made responsible for the plans and calculations on which the disbursements are grounded. parliament, accordingly, is not expected, nor even permitted, to originate directly either taxation or expenditure. all it is asked for is its consent, and the sole power it possesses is that of refusal. the principles which are involved and recognized in this constitutional doctrine, if followed as far as they will go, are a guide to the limitation and definition of the general functions of representative assemblies. in the first place, it is admitted in all countries in which the representative system is practically understood, that numerous representative bodies ought not to administer. the maxim is grounded not only on the most essential principles of good government, but on those of the successful conduct of business of any description. no body of men, unless organized and under command, is fit for action, in the proper sense. even a select board, composed of few members, and these specially conversant with the business to be done, is always an inferior instrument to some one individual who could be found among them, and would be improved in character if that one person were made the chief, and all the others reduced to subordinates. what can be done better by a body than by any individual is deliberation. when it is necessary or important to secure hearing and consideration to many conflicting opinions, a deliberative body is indispensable. those bodies, therefore, are frequently useful, even for administrative business, but in general only as advisers; such business being, as a rule, better conducted under the responsibility of one. even a joint-stock company has always in practice, if not in theory, a managing director; its good or bad management depends essentially on some one person's qualifications, and the remaining directors, when of any use, are so by their suggestions to him, or by the power they possess of watching him, and restraining or removing him in case of misconduct. that they are ostensibly equal shares with him in the management is no advantage, but a considerable set-off against any good which they are capable of doing: it weakens greatly the sense in his own mind, and in those of other people, of that individual responsibility in which he should stand forth personally and undividedly. but a popular assembly is still less fitted to administer, or to dictate in detail to those who have the charge of administration. even when honestly meant, the interference is almost always injurious. every branch of public administration is a skilled business, which has its own peculiar principles and traditional rules, many of them not even known in any effectual way, except to those who have at some time had a hand in carrying on the business, and none of them likely to be duly appreciated by persons not practically acquainted with the department. i do not mean that the transaction of public business has esoteric mysteries, only to be understood by the initiated. its principles are all intelligible to any person of good sense, who has in his mind a true picture of the circumstances and conditions to be dealt with; but to have this he must know those circumstances and conditions; and the knowledge does not come by intuition. there are many rules of the greatest importance in every branch of public business (as there are in every private occupation), of which a person fresh to the subject neither knows the reason or even suspects the existence, because they are intended to meet dangers or provide against inconveniences which never entered into his thoughts. i have known public men, ministers of more than ordinary natural capacity, who, on their first introduction to a department of business new to them, have excited the mirth of their inferiors by the air with which they announced as a truth hitherto set at nought, and brought to light by themselves, something which was probably the first thought of every body who ever looked at the subject, given up as soon as he had got on to a second. it is true that a great statesman is he who knows when to depart from traditions, as well as when to adhere to them; but it is a great mistake to suppose that he will do this better for being ignorant of the traditions. no one who does not thoroughly know the modes of action which common experience has sanctioned is capable of judging of the circumstances which require a departure from those ordinary modes of action. the interests dependent on the acts done by a public department, the consequences liable to follow from any particular mode of conducting it, require for weighing and estimating them a kind of knowledge, and of specially exercised judgment, almost as rarely found in those not bred to it, as the capacity to reform the law in those who have not professionally studied it. all these difficulties are sure to be ignored by a representative assembly which attempts to decide on special acts of administration. at its best, it is inexperience sitting in judgment on experience, ignorance on knowledge; ignorance which, never suspecting the existence of what it does not know, is equally careless and supercilious, making light of, if not resenting, all pretensions to have a judgment better worth attending to than its own. thus it is when no interested motives intervene; but when they do, the result is jobbery more unblushing and audacious than the worst corruption which can well take place in a public office under a government of publicity. it is not necessary that the interested bias should extend to the majority of the assembly. in any particular case it is of ten enough that it affects two or three of their number. those two or three will have a greater interest in misleading the body than any other of its members are likely to have in putting it right. the bulk of the assembly may keep their hands clean, but they can not keep their minds vigilant or their judgments discerning in matters they know nothing about; and an indolent majority, like an indolent individual, belongs to the person who takes most pains with it. the bad measures or bad appointments of a minister may be checked by parliament; and the interest of ministers in defending, and of rival partisans in attacking, secures a tolerably equal discussion; but _quis custodiet custodes?_ who shall check the parliament? a minister, a head of an office, feels himself under some responsibility. an assembly in such cases feels under no responsibility at all; for when did any member of parliament lose his seat for the vote he gave on any detail of administration? to a minister, or the head of an office, it is of more importance what will be thought of his proceedings some time hence, than what is thought of them at the instant; but an assembly, if the cry of the moment goes with it, however hastily raised or artificially stirred up, thinks itself and is thought by every body, to be completely exculpated, however disastrous may be the consequences. besides, an assembly never personally experiences the inconveniences of its bad measures until they have reached the dimensions of national evils. ministers and administrators see them approaching, and have to bear all the annoyance and trouble of attempting to ward them off. the proper duty of a representative assembly in regard to matters of administration is not to decide them by its own vote, but to take care that the persons who have to decide them shall be the proper persons. even this they can not advantageously do by nominating the individuals. there is no act which more imperatively requires to be performed under a strong sense of individual responsibility than the nomination to employments. the experience of every person conversant with public affairs bears out the assertion that there is scarcely any act respecting which the conscience of an average man is less sensitive; scarcely any case in which less consideration is paid to qualifications, partly because men do not know, and partly because they do not care for, the difference in qualifications between one person and another. when a minister makes what is meant to be an honest appointment, that is, when he does not actually job it for his personal connections or his party, an ignorant person might suppose that he would try to give it to the person best qualified. no such thing. an ordinary minister thinks himself a miracle of virtue if he gives it to a person of merit, or who has a claim on the public on any account, though the claim or the merit may be of the most opposite description to that required. _il fallait un calculateur, ce fut un danseur qui l'obtint_, is hardly more of a caricature than in the days of figaro; and the minister doubtless thinks himself not only blameless, but meritorious, if the man dances well. besides, the qualifications which fit special individuals for special duties can only be recognized by those who know the individuals, or who make it their business to examine and judge of persons from what they have done, or from the evidence of those who are in a position to judge. when these conscientious obligations are so little regarded by great public officers who can be made responsible for their appointments, how must it be with assemblies who can not? even now, the worst appointments are those which are made for the sake of gaining support or disarming opposition in the representative body; what might we expect if they were made by the body itself? numerous bodies never regard special qualifications at all. unless a man is fit for the gallows, he is thought to be about as fit as other people for almost any thing for which he can offer himself as a candidate. when appointments made by a public body are not decided, as they almost always are, by party connection or private jobbing, a man is appointed either because he has a reputation, often quite undeserved, for _general_ ability, or oftener for no better reason than that he is personally popular. it has never been thought desirable that parliament should itself nominate even the members of a cabinet. it is enough that it virtually decides who shall be prime minister, or who shall be the two or three individuals from whom the prime minister shall be chosen. in doing this, it merely recognizes the fact that a certain person is the candidate of the party whose general policy commands its support. in reality, the only thing which parliament decides is, which of two, or at most three, parties or bodies of men shall furnish the executive government: the opinion of the party itself decides which of its members is fittest to be placed at the head. according to the existing practice of the british constitution, these things seem to be on as good a footing as they can be. parliament does not nominate any minister, but the crown appoints the head of the administration in conformity to the general wishes and inclinations manifested by parliament, and the other ministers on the recommendation of the chief; while every minister has the undivided moral responsibility of appointing fit persons to the other offices of administration which are not permanent. in a republic, some other arrangement would be necessary; but the nearer it approached in practice to that which has long existed in england, the more likely it would be to work well. either, as in the american republic, the head of the executive must be elected by some agency entirely independent of the representative body; or the body must content itself with naming the prime minister, and making him responsible for the choice of his associates and subordinates. in all these considerations, at least theoretically, i fully anticipate a general assent; though, practically, the tendency is strong in representative bodies to interfere more and more in the details of administration, by virtue of the general law, that whoever has the strongest power is more and more tempted to make an excessive use of it; and this is one of the practical dangers to which the futurity of representative governments will be exposed. but it is equally true, though only of late and slowly beginning to be acknowledged, that a numerous assembly is as little fitted for the direct business of legislation as for that of administration. there is hardly any kind of intellectual work which so much needs to be done not only by experienced and exercised minds, but by minds trained to the task through long and laborious study, as the business of making laws. this is a sufficient reason, were there no other, why they can never be well made but by a committee of very few persons. a reason no less conclusive is, that every provision of a law requires to be framed with the most accurate and long-sighted perception of its effect on all the other provisions; and the law when made should be capable of fitting into a consistent whole with the previously existing laws. it is impossible that these conditions should be in any degree fulfilled when laws are voted clause by clause in a miscellaneous assembly. the incongruity of such a mode of legislating would strike all minds, were it not that our laws are already, as to form and construction, such a chaos, that the confusion and contradiction seem incapable of being made greater by any addition to the mass. yet even now, the utter unfitness of our legislative machinery for its purpose is making itself practically felt every year more and more. the mere time necessarily occupied in getting through bills, renders parliament more and more incapable of passing any, except on detached and narrow points. if a bill is prepared which even attempts to deal with the whole of any subject (and it is impossible to legislate properly on any part without having the whole present to the mind), it hangs over from session to session through sheer impossibility of finding time to dispose of it. it matters not though the bill may have been deliberately drawn up by the authority deemed the best qualified, with all appliances and means to boot; or by a select commission, chosen for their conversancy with the subject, and having employed years in considering and digesting the particular measure: it can not be passed, because the house of commons will not forego the precious privilege of tinkering it with their clumsy hands. the custom has of late been to some extent introduced, when the principle of a bill has been affirmed on the second reading, of referring it for consideration in detail to a select committee; but it has not been found that this practice causes much less time to be lost afterwards in carrying it through the committee of the whole house: the opinions or private crotchets which have been overruled by knowledge always insist on giving themselves a second chance before the tribunal of ignorance. indeed, the practice itself has been adopted principally by the house of lords, the members of which are less busy and fond of meddling, and less jealous of the importance of their individual voices, than those of the elective house. and when a bill of many clauses does succeed in getting itself discussed in detail, what can depict the state in which it comes out of committee! clauses omitted which are essential to the working of the rest; incongruous ones inserted to conciliate some private interest, or some crotchety member who threatens to delay the bill; articles foisted in on the motion of some sciolist with a mere smattering of the subject, leading to consequences which the member who introduced or those who supported the bill did not at the moment foresee, and which need an amending act in the next session to correct their mischiefs. it is one of the evils of the present mode of managing these things, that the explaining and defending of a bill, and of its various provisions, is scarcely ever performed by the person from whose mind they emanated, who probably has not a seat in the house. their defense rests upon some minister or member of parliament who did not frame them, who is dependent on cramming for all his arguments but those which are perfectly obvious, who does not know the full strength of his case, nor the best reasons by which to support it, and is wholly incapable of meeting unforeseen objections. this evil, as far as government bills are concerned, admits of remedy, and has been remedied in some representative constitutions, by allowing the government to be represented in either house by persons in its confidence, having a right to speak, though not to vote. if that, as yet considerable, majority of the house of commons who never desire to move an amendment or make a speech would no longer leave the whole regulation of business to those who do; if they would bethink themselves that better qualifications for legislation exist, and may be found if sought for, than a fluent tongue, and the faculty of getting elected by a constituency, it would soon be recognized that, in legislation as well as administration, the only task to which a representative assembly can possibly be competent is not that of doing the work, but of causing it to be done; of determining to whom or to what sort of people it shall be confided, and giving or withholding the national sanction to it when performed. any government fit for a high state of civilization would have as one of its fundamental elements a small body, not exceeding in number the members of a cabinet, who should act as a commission of legislation, having for its appointed office to make the laws. if the laws of this country were, as surely they will soon be, revised and put into a connected form, the commission of codification by which this is effected should remain as a permanent institution, to watch over the work, protect it from deterioration, and make further improvements as often as required. no one would wish that this body should of itself have any power of _enacting_ laws; the commission would only embody the element of intelligence in their construction; parliament would represent that of will. no measure would become a law until expressly sanctioned by parliament; and parliament, or either house, would have the power not only of rejecting but of sending back a bill to the commission for reconsideration or improvement. either house might also exercise its initiative by referring any subject to the commission, with directions to prepare a law. the commission, of course, would have no power of refusing its instrumentality to any legislation which the country desired. instructions, concurred in by both houses, to draw up a bill which should effect a particular purpose, would be imperative on the commissioners, unless they preferred to resign their office. once framed, however, parliament should have no power to alter the measure, but solely to pass or reject it; or, if partially disapproved of, remit it to the commission for reconsideration. the commissioners should be appointed by the crown, but should hold their offices for a time certain, say five years, unless removed on an address from the two houses of parliament, grounded either on personal misconduct (as in the case of judges), or on refusal to draw up a bill in obedience to the demands of parliament. at the expiration of the five years a member should cease to hold office unless reappointed, in order to provide a convenient mode of getting rid of those who had not been found equal to their duties, and of infusing new and younger blood into the body. the necessity of some provision corresponding to this was felt even in the athenian democracy, where, in the time of its most complete ascendancy, the popular ecclesia could pass psephisms (mostly decrees on single matters of policy), but laws, so called, could only be made or altered by a different and less numerous body, renewed annually, called the nomothetæ, whose duty it also was to revise the whole of the laws, and keep them consistent with one another. in the english constitution there is great difficulty in introducing any arrangement which is new both in form and in substance, but comparatively little repugnance is felt to the attainment of new purposes by an adaptation of existing forms and traditions. it appears to me that the means might be devised of enriching the constitution with this great improvement through the machinery of the house of lords. a commission for preparing bills would in itself be no more an innovation on the constitution than the board for the administration of the poor laws, or the inclosure commission. if, in consideration of the great importance and dignity of the trust, it were made a rule that every person appointed a member of the legislative commission, unless removed from office on an address from parliament, should be a peer for life, it is probable that the same good sense and taste which leave the judicial functions of the peerage practically to the exclusive care of the law lords would leave the business of legislation, except on questions involving political principles and interests, to the professional legislators; that bills originating in the upper house would always be drawn up by them; that the government would devolve on them the framing of all its bills; and that private members of the house of commons would gradually find it convenient, and likely to facilitate the passing of their measures through the two houses, if, instead of bringing in a bill and submitting it directly to the house, they obtained leave to introduce it and have it referred to the legislative commission; for it would, of course, be open to the house to refer for the consideration of that body not a subject merely, but any specific proposal, or a draft of a bill _in extenso_, when any member thought himself capable of preparing one such as ought to pass; and the house would doubtless refer every such draft to the commission, if only as materials, and for the benefit of the suggestions it might contain, as they would, in like manner, refer every amendment or objection which might be proposed in writing by any member of the house after a measure had left the commissioners' hands. the alteration of bills by a committee of the whole house would cease, not by formal abolition, but by desuetude; the right not being abandoned, but laid up in the same armoury with the royal veto, the right of withholding the supplies, and other ancient instruments of political warfare, which no one desires to see used, but no one likes to part with, lest they should any time be found to be still needed in an extraordinary emergency. by such arrangements as these, legislation would assume its proper place as a work of skilled labor and special study and experience; while the most important liberty of the nation, that of being governed only by laws assented to by its elected representatives, would be fully preserved, and made more valuable by being detached from the serious, but by no means unavoidable drawbacks which now accompany it in the form of ignorant and ill-considered legislation. instead of the function of governing, for which it is radically unfit, the proper office of a representative assembly is to watch and control the government; to throw the light of publicity on its acts; to compel a full exposition and justification of all of them which any one considers questionable; to cinsure them if found condemnable, and, if the men who compose the government abuse their trust, or fulfill it in a manner which conflicts with the deliberate sense of the nation, to expel them from office, and either expressly or virtually appoint their successors. this is surely ample power, and security enough for the liberty of the nation. in addition to this, the parliament has an office not inferior even to this in importance; to be at once the nation's committee of grievances and its congress of opinions; an arena in which not only the general opinion of the nation, but that of every section of it, and, as far as possible, of every eminent individual whom it contains, can produce itself in full light and challenge discussion; where every person in the country may count upon finding somebody who speaks his mind as well or better than he could speak it himself--not to friends and partisans exclusively, but in the face of opponents, to be tested by adverse controversy; where those whose opinion is overruled, feel satisfied that it is heard, and set aside not by a mere act of will, but for what are thought superior reasons, and commend themselves as such to the representatives of the majority of the nation; where every party or opinion in the country can muster its strength, and be cured of any illusion concerning the number or power of its adherents; where the opinion which prevails in the nation makes itself manifest as prevailing, and marshals its hosts in the presence of the government, which is thus enabled and compelled to give way to it on the mere manifestation, without the actual employment of its strength; where statesmen can assure themselves, far more certainly than by any other signs, what elements of opinion and power are growing and what declining, and are enabled to shape their measures with some regard not solely to present exigencies, but to tendencies in progress. representative assemblies are often taunted by their enemies with being places of mere talk and _bavardage_. there has seldom been more misplaced derision. i know not how a representative assembly can more usefully employ itself than in talk, when the subject of talk is the great public interests of the country, and every sentence of it represents the opinion either of some important body of persons in the nation, or of an individual in whom some such body have reposed their confidence. a place where every interest and shade of opinion in the country can have its cause even passionately pleaded, in the face of the government and of all other interests and opinions, can compel them to listen, and either comply, or state clearly why they do not, is in itself, if it answered no other purpose, one of the most important political institutions that can exist any where, and one of the foremost benefits of free government. such "talking" would never be looked upon with disparagement if it were not allowed to stop "doing"; which it never would, if assemblies knew and acknowledged that talking and discussion are their proper business, while _doing_, as the result of discussion, is the task not of a miscellaneous body, but of individuals specially trained to it; that the fit office of an assembly is to see that those individuals are honestly and intelligently chosen, and to interfere no further with them, except by unlimited latitude of suggestion and criticism, and by applying or withholding the final seal of national assent. it is for want of this judicious reserve that popular assemblies attempt to do what they can not do well--to govern and legislate--and provide no machinery but their own for much of it, when of course every hour spent in talk is an hour withdrawn from actual business. but the very fact which most unfits such bodies for a council of legislation, qualifies them the more for their other office--namely, that they are not a selection of the greatest political minds in the country, from whose opinions little could with certainty be inferred concerning those of the nation, but are, when properly constituted, a fair sample of every grade of intellect among the people which is at all entitled to a voice in public affairs. their part is to indicate wants, to be an organ for popular demands, and a place of adverse discussion for all opinions relating to public matters, both great and small; and, along with this, to check by criticism, and eventually by withdrawing their support, those high public officers who really conduct the public business, or who appoint those by whom it is conducted. nothing but the restriction of the function of representative bodies within these rational limits will enable the benefits of popular control to be enjoyed in conjunction with the no less important requisites (growing ever more important as human affairs increase in scale and in complexity) of skilled legislation and administration. there are no means of combining these benefits except by separating the functions which guaranty the one from those which essentially require the other; by disjoining the office of control and criticism from the actual conduct of affairs, and devolving the former on the representatives of the many, while securing for the latter, under strict responsibility to the nation, the acquired knowledge and practiced intelligence of a specially trained and experienced few. the preceding discussion of the functions which ought to devolve on the sovereign representative assembly of the nation would require to be followed by an inquiry into those properly vested in the minor representative bodies, which ought to exist for purposes that regard only localities. and such an inquiry forms an essential part of the present treatise; but many reasons require its postponement, until we have considered the most proper composition of the great representative body, destined to control as sovereign the enactment of laws and the administration of the general affairs of the nation. chapter vi--of the infirmities and dangers to which representative government is liable. the defects of any form of government may be either negative or positive. it is negatively defective if it does not concentrate in the hands of the authorities power sufficient to fulfill the necessary offices of a government, or if it does not sufficiently develop by exercise the active capacities and social feelings of the individual citizens. on neither of these points is it necessary that much should be said at this stage of our inquiry. the want of an amount power in the government adequate to preserve order and allow of progress in the people is incident rather to a wild and rude state of society generally than to any particular form of political union. when the people are too much attached to savage independence to be tolerant of the amount of power to which it is for their good that they should be subject, the state of society (as already observed) is not yet ripe for representative government. when the time for that government has arrived, sufficient power for all needful purposes is sure to reside in the sovereign assembly; and if enough of it is not intrusted to the executive, this can only arise from a jealous feeling on the part of the assembly toward the administration, never likely to exist but where the constitutional power of the assembly to turn them out of office has not yet sufficiently established itself. wherever that constitutional right is admitted in principle and fully operative in practice, there is no fear that the assembly will not be willing to trust its own ministers with any amount of power really desirable; the danger is, on the contrary, lest they should grant it too ungrudgingly, and too indefinite in extent, since the power of the minister is the power of the body who make and who keep him so. it is, however, very likely, and is one of the dangers of a controlling assembly, that it may be lavish of powers, but afterwards interfere with their exercise; may give power by wholesale, and take it back in detail, by multiplied single acts of interference in the business of administration. the evils arising from this assumption of the actual function of governing, in lieu of that of criticising and checking those who govern, have been sufficiently dwelt upon in the preceding chapter. no safeguard can in the nature of things be provided against this improper meddling, except a strong and general conviction of its injurious character. the other negative defect which may reside in a government, that of not bringing into sufficient exercise the individual faculties, moral, intellectual, and active, of the people, has been exhibited generally in setting forth the distinctive mischiefs of despotism. as between one form of popular government and another, the advantage in this respect lies with that which most widely diffuses the exercise of public functions; on the one hand, by excluding fewest from the suffrage; on the other, by opening to all classes of private citizens, so far as is consistent with other equally important objects, the widest participation in the details of judicial and administrative business; as by jury-trial, admission to municipal offices, and, above all, by the utmost possible publicity and liberty of discussion, whereby not merely a few individuals in succession, but the whole public, are made, to a certain extent, participants in the government, and sharers in the instruction and mental exercise derived from it. the further illustration of these benefits, as well as of the limitations under which they must be aimed at, will be better deferred until we come to speak of the details of administration. the _positive_ evils and dangers of the representative, as of every other form of government, may be reduced to two heads: first, general ignorance and incapacity, or, to speak more moderately, insufficient mental qualifications, in the controlling body; secondly, the danger of its being under the influence of interests not identical with the general welfare of the community. the former of these evils, deficiency in high mental qualifications, is one to which it is generally supposed that popular government is liable in a greater degree than any other. the energy of a monarch, the steadiness and prudence of an aristocracy, are thought to contrast most favorably with the vacillation and shortsightedness of even the most qualified democracy. these propositions, however, are not by any means so well founded as they at first sight appear. compared with simple monarchy, representative government is in these respects at no disadvantage. except in a rude age, hereditary monarchy, when it is really such, and not aristocracy in disguise, far surpasses democracy in all the forms of incapacity supposed to be characteristic of the last. i say, except in a rude age, because in a really rude state of society there is a considerable guaranty for the intellectual and active capacities of the sovereign. his personal will is constantly encountering obstacles from the willfulness of his subjects, and of powerful individuals among their number. the circumstances of society do not afford him much temptation to mere luxurious self-indulgence; mental and bodily activity, especially political and military, are his principal excitements; and among turbulent chiefs and lawless followers he has little authority, and is seldom long secure even of his throne, unless he possesses a considerable amount of personal daring, dexterity, and energy. the reason why the average of talent is so high among the henries and edwards of our history may be read in the tragical fate of the second edward and the second richard, and the civil wars and disturbances of the reigns of john and his incapable successor. the troubled period of the reformation also produced several eminent hereditary monarchs--elizabeth, henri quatre, gustavus adolphus; but they were mostly bred up in adversity, succeeded to the throne by the unexpected failure of nearer heirs, or had to contend with great difficulties in the commencement of their reign. since european life assumed a settled aspect, any thing above mediocrity in an hereditary king has become extremely rare, while the general average has been even below mediocrity, both in talent and in vigor of character. a monarchy constitutionally absolute now only maintains itself in existence (except temporarily in the hands of some active-minded usurper) through the mental qualifications of a permanent bureaucracy. the russian and austrian governments, and even the french government in its normal condition, are oligarchies of officials, of whom the head of the state does little more than select the chiefs. i am speaking of the regular course of their administration; for the will of the master of course determines many of their particular acts. the governments which have been remarkable in history for sustained mental ability and vigor in the conduct of affairs have generally been aristocracies. but they have been, without any exception, aristocracies of public functionaries. the ruling bodies have been so narrow, that each member, or at least each influential member of the body, was able to make, and did make, public business an active profession, and the principal occupation of his life. the only aristocracies which have manifested high governing capacities, and acted on steady maxims of policy through many generations, are those of rome and venice. but, at venice, though the privileged order was numerous, the actual management of affairs was rigidly concentrated in a small oligarchy within the oligarchy, whose whole lives were devoted to the study and conduct of the affairs of the state. the roman government partook more of the character of an open aristocracy like our own. but the really governing body, the senate, was in exclusively composed of persons who had exercised public functions, and had either already filled, or were looking forward to fill the highest offices of the state, at the peril of a severe responsibility in case of incapacity and failure. when once members of the senate, their lives were pledged to the conduct of public affairs; they were not permitted even to leave italy except in the discharge of some public trust; and unless turned out of the senate by the censors for character or conduct deemed disgraceful, they retained their powers and responsibilities to the end of life. in an aristocracy thus constituted, every member felt his personal importance entirely bound up with the dignity and estimation of the commonwealth which he administered, and with the part he was able to play in its councils. this dignity and estimation were quite different things from the prosperity or happiness of the general body of the citizens, and were often wholly incompatible with it. but they were closely linked with the external success and aggrandisement of the state; and it was, consequently, in the pursuit of that object almost exclusively, that either the roman or the venetian aristocracies manifested the systematically wise collective policy and the great individual capacities for government for which history has deservedly given them credit. it thus appears that the only governments, not representative, in which high political skill and ability have been other than exceptional, whether under monarchical or aristocratic forms, have been essentially bureaucracies. the work of government has been in the hands of governors by profession, which is the essence and meaning of bureaucracy. whether the work is done by them because they have been trained to it, or they are trained to it because it is to be done by them, makes a great difference in many respects, but none at all as to the essential character of the rule. aristocracies, on the other hand, like that of england, in which the class who possessed the power derived it merely from their social position, without being specially trained or devoting themselves exclusively to it (and in which, therefore, the power was not exercised directly, but through representative institutions oligarchically constituted), have been, in respect to intellectual endowments, much on a par with democracies; that is, they have manifested such qualities in any considerable degree only during the temporary ascendancy which great and popular talents, united with a distinguished position, have given to some one man. themistocles and pericles, washington and jefferson, were not more completely exceptions in their several democracies, and were assuredly much more splendid exceptions, than the chathams and peels of the representative aristocracy of great britain, or even the sullys and colberts of the aristocratic monarchy of france. a great minister, in the aristocratic governments of modern europe, is almost as rare a phenomenon as a great king. the comparison, therefore, as to the intellectual attributes of a government has to be made between a representative democracy and a bureaucracy; all other governments may be left out of the account. and here it must be acknowledged that a bureaucratic government has, in some important respects, greatly the advantage. it accumulates experience, acquires well-tried and well-considered traditional maxims, and makes provision for appropriate practical knowledge in those who have the actual conduct of affairs. but it is not equally favorable to individual energy of mind. the disease which afflicts bureaucratic governments, and which they usually die of, is routine. they perish by the immutability of their maxims, and, still more, by the universal law that whatever becomes a routine loses its vital principle, and, having no longer a mind acting within it, goes on revolving mechanically, though the work it is intended to do remains undone. a bureaucracy always tends to become a pedantocracy. when the bureaucracy is the real government, the spirit of the corps (as with the jesuits) bears down the individuality of its more distinguished members. in the profession of government, as in other professions, the sole idea of the majority is to do what they have been taught; and it requires a popular government to enable the conceptions of the man of original genius among them to prevail over the obstructive spirit of trained mediocrity. only in a popular government (setting apart the accident of a highly intelligent despot) could sir rowland hill have been victorious over the post-office. a popular government installed him _in_ the post-office, and made the body, in spite of itself, obey the impulse given by the man who united special knowledge with individual vigor and originality. that the roman aristocracy escaped this characteristic disease of a bureaucracy was evidently owing to its popular element. all special offices, both those which gave a seat in the senate and those which were sought by senators, were conferred by popular election. the russian government is a characteristic exemplification of both the good and bad side of bureaucracy: its fixed maxims, directed with roman perseverance to the same unflinchingly-pursued ends from age to age; the remarkable skill with which those ends are generally pursued; the frightful internal corruption, and the permanent organized hostility to improvements from without, which even the autocratic power of a vigorous-minded emperor is seldom or never sufficient to overcome; the patient obstructiveness of the body being in the long run more than a match for the fitful energy of one man. the chinese government, a bureaucracy of mandarins, is, as far as known to us, another apparent example of the same qualities and defects. in all human affairs, conflicting influences are required to keep one another alive and efficient even for their own proper uses; and the exclusive pursuit of one good object, apart from some other which should accompany it, ends not in excess of one and defect of the other, but in the decay and loss even of that which has been exclusively cared for. government by trained officials can not do for a country the things which can be done by a free government, but it might be supposed capable of doing some things which free government of itself can not do. we find, however, that an outside element of freedom is necessary to enable it to do effectually or permanently even its own business. and so, also, freedom can not produce its best effects, and often breaks down altogether, unless means can be found of combining it with trained and skilled administration. there could not be a moment's hesitation between representative government, among a people in any degree ripe for it, and the most perfect imaginable bureaucracy. but it is, at the same time, one of the most important ends of political institutions, to attain as many of the qualities of the one as are consistent with the other; to secure, as far as they can be made compatible, the great advantage of the conduct of affairs by skilled persons, bred to it as an intellectual profession, along with that of a general control vested in, and seriously exercised by, bodies representative of the entire people. much would be done towards this end by recognizing the line of separation, discussed in the preceding chapter, between the work of government properly so called, which can only be well performed after special cultivation, and that of selecting, watching, and, when needful, controlling the governors, which in this case, as in all others, properly devolves, not on those who do the work, but on those for whose benefit it ought to be done. no progress at all can be made towards obtaining a skilled democracy, unless the democracy are willing that the work which requires skill should be done by those who possess it. a democracy has enough to do in providing itself with an amount of mental competency sufficient for its own proper work, that of superintendence and check. how to obtain and secure this amount is one of the questions to taken into consideration in judging of the proper constitution of a representative body. in proportion as its composition fails to secure this amount, the assembly will encroach, by special acts, on the province of the executive; it will expel a good, or elevate and uphold a bad ministry; it will connive at, or overlook in them, abuses of trust, will be deluded by their false pretenses, or will withhold support from those who endeavour to fulfill their trust conscientiously; it will countenance or impose a selfish, a capricious and impulsive, a short-sighted, ignorant, and prejudiced general policy, foreign and domestic; it will abrogate good laws, or enact bad ones; let in new evils, or cling with perverse obstinacy to old; it will even, perhaps, under misleading impulses, momentary or permanent, emanating from itself or from its constituents, tolerate or connive at proceedings which set law aside altogether, in cases where equal justice would not be agreeable to popular feeling. such are among the dangers of representative government, arising from a constitution of the representation which does not secure an adequate amount of intelligence and knowledge in the representative assembly. we next proceed to the evils arising from the prevalence of modes of action in the representative body, dictated by sinister interests (to employ the useful phrase introduced by bentham), that is, interests conflicting more or less with the general good of the community. it is universally admitted that, of the evils incident to monarchical and aristocratic governments, a large proportion arise from this cause. the interest of the monarch, or the interest of the aristocracy, either collective or that of its individual members, is promoted, or they themselves think that it will be promoted, by conduct opposed to that which the general interest of the community requires. the interest, for example, of the government is to tax heavily; that of the community is to be as little taxed as the necessary expenses of good government permit. the interest of the king and of the governing aristocracy is to possess and exercise unlimited power over the people; to enforce, on their part, complete conformity to the will and preferences of the rulers. the interest of the people is to have as little control exercised over them in any respect as is consistent with attaining the legitimate ends of government. the interest, or apparent and supposed interest of the king or aristocracy, is to permit no censure of themselves, at least in any form which they may consider either to threaten their power or seriously to interfere with their free agency. the interest of the people is that there should be full liberty of censure on every public officer, and on every public act or measure. the interest of a ruling class, whether in an aristocracy or an aristocratic monarchy, is to assume to themselves an endless variety of unjust privileges, sometimes benefiting their pockets at the expense of the people, sometimes merely tending to exalt them above others, or, what is the same thing in different words, to degrade others below themselves. if the people are disaffected, which under such a government they are very likely to be, it is the interest of the king or aristocracy to keep them at a low level of intelligence and education, foment dissensions among them, and even prevent them from being too well off, lest they should "wax fat, and kick," agreeably to the maxim of cardinal richelieu in his celebrated "testament politique." all these things are for the interest of a king or aristocracy, in a purely selfish point of view, unless a sufficiently strong counter-interest is created by the fear of provoking resistance. all these evils have been, and many of them still are, produced by the sinister interests of kings and aristocracies, where their power is sufficient to raise them above the opinion of the rest of the community; nor is it rational to expect, as a consequence of such a position, any other conduct. these things are superabundantly evident in the case of a monarchy or an aristocracy; but it is sometimes rather gratuitously assumed that the same kind of injurious influences do not operate in a democracy. looking at democracy in the way in which it is commonly conceived, as the rule of the numerical majority, it is surely possible that the ruling power may be under the dominion of sectional or class interests, pointing to conduct different from that which would be dictated by impartial regard for the interest of all. suppose the majority to be whites, the minority negroes, or _vice versâ_: is it likely that the majority would allow equal justice to the minority? suppose the majority catholics, the minority protestants, or the reverse; will there not be the same danger? or let the majority be english, the minority irish, or the contrary: is there not a great probability of similar evil? in all countries there is a majority of poor, a minority who, in contradistinction, may be called rich. between these two classes, on many questions, there is complete opposition of apparent interest. we will suppose the majority sufficiently intelligent to be aware that it is not for their advantage to weaken the security of property, and that it would be weakened by any act of arbitrary spoliation. but is there not a considerable danger lest they should throw upon the possessors of what is called realized property, and upon the larger incomes, an unfair share, or even the whole, of the burden of taxation, and having done so, add to the amount without scruple, expending the proceeds in modes supposed to conduce to the profit and advantage of the laboring class? suppose, again, a minority of skilled laborers, a majority of unskilled: the experience of many trade unions, unless they are greatly calumniated, justifies the apprehension that equality of earnings might be imposed as an obligation, and that piecework, and all practices which enable superior industry or abilities to gain a superior reward, might be put down. legislative attempts to raise wages, limitation of competition in the labor market, taxes or restrictions on machinery, and on improvements of all kinds tending to dispense with any of the existing labor--even, perhaps, protection of the home producer against foreign industry--are very natural (i do not venture to say whether probable) results of a feeling of class interest in a governing majority of manual laborers. it will be said that none of these things are for the _real_ interest of the most numerous class: to which i answer, that if the conduct of human beings was determined by no other interested considerations than those which constitute their "real" interest, neither monarchy nor oligarchy would be such bad governments as they are; for assuredly very strong arguments may be, and often have been, adduced to show that either a king or a governing senate are in much the most enviable position when ruling justly and vigilantly over an active, wealthy, enlightened, and high-minded people. but a king only now and then, and an oligarchy in no known instance, have taken this exalted view of their self-interest; and why should we expect a loftier mode of thinking from the laboring classes? it is not what their interest is, but what they suppose it to be, that is the important consideration with respect to their conduct; and it is quite conclusive against any theory of government that it assumes the numerical majority to do habitually what is never done, nor expected to be done, save in very exceptional cases, by any other depositaries of power--namely, to direct their conduct by their real ultimate interest, in opposition to their immediate and apparent interest. no one, surely, can doubt that many of the pernicious measures above enumerated, and many others as bad, would be for the immediate interest of the general body of unskilled laborers. it is quite possible that they would be for the selfish interest of the whole existing generation of the class. the relaxation of industry and activity, and diminished encouragement to saving which would be their ultimate consequence, might perhaps be little felt by the class of unskilled laborers in the space of a single lifetime. some of the most fatal changes in human affairs have been, as to their more manifest immediate effects, beneficial. the establishment of the despotism of the cæsars was a great benefit to the entire generation in which it took place. it put a stop to civil war, abated a vast amount of malversation and tyranny by prætors and proconsuls; it fostered many of the graces of life, and intellectual cultivation in all departments not political; it produced monuments of literary genius dazzling to the imaginations of shallow readers of history, who do not reflect that the men to whom the despotism of augustus (as well as of lorenzo de' medici and of louis xiv.) owes its brilliancy were all formed in the generation preceding. the accumulated riches, and the mental energy and activity produced by centuries of freedom, remained for the benefit of the first generation of slaves. yet this was the commencement of a _régime_ by whose gradual operation all the civilization which had been gained insensibly faded away, until the empire, which had conquered and embraced the world in its grasp so completely lost even its military efficiency that invaders whom three or four legions had always sufficed to coerce were able to overrun and occupy nearly the whole of its vast territory. the fresh impulse given by christianity came but just in time to save arts and letters from perishing, and the human race from sinking back into perhaps endless night. when we talk of the interest of a body of men, or even of an individual man, as a principle determining their actions, the question what would be considered their interest by an unprejudiced observer is one of the least important parts of the whole matter. as coleridge observes, the man makes the motive, not the motive the man. what it is the man's interest to do or refrain from depends less on any outward circumstances than upon what sort of man he is. if you wish to know what is practically a man's interest, you must know the cast of his habitual feelings and thoughts. every body has two kinds of interests--interests which he cares for and interests which he does not care for. every body has selfish and unselfish interests, and a selfish man has cultivated the habit of caring for the former and not caring for the latter. every one has present and distant interests, and the improvident man is he who cares for the present interests and does not care for the distant. it matters little that on any correct calculation the latter may be the more considerable, if the habits of his mind lead him to fix his thoughts and wishes solely on the former. it would be vain to attempt to persuade a man who beats his wife and ill-treats his children that he would be happier if he lived in love and kindness with them. he would be happier if he were the kind of person who _could_ so live; but he is not, and it is probably too late for him to become that kind of person. being what he is, the gratification of his love of domineering and the indulgence of his ferocious temper are to his perceptions a greater good to himself than he would be capable of deriving from the pleasure and affection of those dependent on him. he has no pleasure in their pleasure, and does not care for their affection. his neighbor, who does, is probably a happier man than he; but could he be persuaded of this, the persuasion would, most likely, only still further exasperate his malignity or his irritability. on the average, a person who cares for other people, for his country, or for mankind, is a happier man than one who does not; but of what use is it to preach this doctrine to a man who cares for nothing but his own ease or his own pocket? he can not care for other people if he would. it is like preaching to the worm who crawls on the ground how much better it would be for him if he were an eagle. now it is a universally observed fact that the two evil dispositions in question, the disposition to prefer a man's selfish interests to those which he shares with other people, and his immediate and direct interests to those which are indirect and remote, are characteristics most especially called forth and fostered by the possession of power. the moment a man, or a class of men, find themselves with power in their hands, the man's individual interest, or the class's separate interest, acquires an entirely new degree of importance in their eyes. finding themselves worshipped by others, they become worshippers of themselves, and think themselves entitled to be counted at a hundred times the value of other people, while the facility they acquire of doing as they like without regard to consequences insensibly weakens the habits which make men look forward even to such consequences as affect themselves. this is the meaning of the universal tradition, grounded on universal experience, of men's being corrupted by power. every one knows how absurd it would be to infer from what a man is or does when in a private station, that he will be and do exactly the like when a despot on a throne; where the bad parts of his human nature, instead of being restrained and kept in subordination by every circumstance of his life and by every person surrounding him, are courted by all persons, and ministered to by all circumstances. it would be quite as absurd to entertain a similar expectation in regard to a class of men; the demos, or any other. let them be ever so modest and amenable to reason while there is a power over them stronger than they, we ought to expect a total change in this respect when they themselves become the strongest power. governments must be made for human beings as they are, or as they are capable of speedily becoming; and in any state of cultivation which mankind, or any class among them, have yet attained, or are likely soon to attain, the interests by which they will be led, when they are thinking only of self-interest, will be almost exclusively those which are obvious at first sight, and which operate on their present condition. it is only a disinterested regard for others, and especially for what comes after them, for the idea of posterity, of their country, or of mankind, whether grounded on sympathy or on a conscientious feeling, which ever directs the minds and purposes of classes or bodies of men towards distant or unobvious interests; and it can not be maintained that any form of government would be rational which required as a condition that these exalted principles of action should be the guiding and master motives in the conduct of average human beings. a certain amount of conscience and of disinterested public spirit may fairly be calculated on in the citizens of any community ripe for representative government. but it would be ridiculous to expect such a degree of it, combined with such intellectual discernment, as would be proof against any plausible fallacy tending to make that which was for their class interest appear the dictate of justice and of the general good. we all know what specious fallacies may be urged in defense of every act of injustice yet proposed for the imaginary benefit of the mass. we know how many, not otherwise fools or bad men, have thought it justifiable to repudiate the national debt. we know how many, not destitute of ability and of considerable popular influence, think it fair to throw the whole burden of taxation upon savings, under the name of realized property, allowing those whose progenitors and themselves have always spent all they received, to remain, as a reward for such exemplary conduct, wholly untaxed. we know what powerful arguments, the more dangerous because there is a portion of truth in them, may be brought against all inheritance, against the power of bequest, against every advantage which one person seems to have over another. we know how easily the uselessness of almost every branch of knowledge may be proved to the complete satisfaction of those who do not possess it. how many, not altogether stupid men, think the scientific study of languages useless, think ancient literature useless, all erudition useless, logic and metaphysics useless, poetry and the fine arts idle and frivolous, political economy purely mischievous? even history has been pronounced useless and mischievous by able men. nothing but that acquaintance with external nature, empirically acquired, which serves directly for the production of objects necessary to existence or agreeable to the senses, would get its utility recognized if people had the least encouragement to disbelieve it. is it reasonable to think that even much more cultivated minds than those of the numerical majority can be expected to be, will have so delicate a conscience, and so just an appreciation of what is against their own apparent interest, that they will reject these and the innumerable other fallacies which will press in upon them from all quarters as soon as they come into power, to induce them to follow their own selfish inclinations and short-sighted notions of their own good, in opposition to justice, at the expense of all other classes and of posterity? one of the greatest dangers, therefore, of democracy, as of all other forms of government, lies in the sinister interest of the holders of power: it is the danger of class legislation, of government intended for (whether really effecting it or not) the immediate benefit of the dominant class, to the lasting detriment of the whole. and one of the most important questions demanding consideration in determining the best constitution of a representative government is how to provide efficacious securities against this evil. if we consider as a class, politically speaking, any number of persons who have the same sinister interest--that is, whose direct and apparent interest points towards the same description of bad measures--the desirable object would be that no class, and no combination of classes likely to combine, shall be able to exercise a preponderant influence in the government. a modern community, not divided within itself by strong antipathies of race, language, or nationality, may be considered as in the main divisible into two sections, which, in spite of partial variations, correspond on the whole with two divergent directions of apparent interest. let us call them (in brief general terms) laborers on the one hand, employers of labor on the other; including, however, along with employers of labor not only retired capitalists and the possessors of inherited wealth, but all that highly paid description of laborers (such as the professions) whose education and way of life assimilate them with the rich, and whose prospect and ambition it is to raise themselves into that class. with the laborers, on the other hand, may be ranked those smaller employers of labor who by interests, habits, and educational impressions are assimilated in wishes, tastes, and objects to the laboring classes, comprehending a large proportion of petty tradesmen. in a state of society thus composed, if the representative system could be made ideally perfect, and if it were possible to maintain it in that state, its organization must be such that these two classes, manual laborers and their affinities on one side, employers of labor and their affinities on the other, should be, in the arrangement of the representative system, equally balanced, each influencing about an equal number of votes in parliament; since, assuming that the majority of each class, in any difference between them, would be mainly governed by their class interests, there would be a minority of each in whom that consideration would be subordinate to reason, justice, and the good of the whole; and this minority of either, joining with the whole of the other, would turn the scale against any demands of their own majority which were not such as ought to prevail. the reason why, in any tolerable constituted society, justice and the general interest mostly in the end carry their point, is that the separate and selfish interests of mankind are almost always divided; some are interested in what is wrong, but some, also, have their private interest on the side of what is right; and those who are governed by higher considerations, though too few and weak to prevail alone, usually, after sufficient discussion and agitation, become strong enough to turn the balance in favor of the body of private interests which is on the same side with them. the representative system ought to be so constituted as to maintain this state of things; it ought not to allow any of the various sectional interests to be so powerful as to be capable of prevailing against truth and justice, and the other sectional interests combined. there ought always to be such a balance preserved among personal interests as may render any one of them dependent for its successes on carrying with it at least a large proportion of those who act on higher motives, and more comprehensive and distant views. chapter vii--of true and false democracy; representation of all, and representation of the majority only. it has been seen that the dangers incident to a representative democracy are of two kinds: danger of a low grade of intelligence in the representative body, and in the popular opinion which controls it; and danger of class legislation on the part of the numerical majority, these being all composed of the same class. we have next to consider how far it is possible so to organize the democracy as, without interfering materially with the characteristic benefits of democratic government, to do away with these two great evils, or at least to abate them in the utmost degree attainable by human contrivance. the common mode of attempting this is by limiting the democratic character of the representation through a more or less restricted suffrage. but there is a previous consideration which, duly kept in view, considerably modifies the circumstances which are supposed to render such a restriction necessary. a completely equal democracy, in a nation in which a single class composes the numerical majority, can not be divested of certain evils; but those evils are greatly aggravated by the fact that the democracies which at present exist are not equal, but systematically unequal in favor of the predominant class. two very different ideas are usually confounded under the name democracy. the pure idea of democracy, according to its definition, is the government of the whole people by the whole people, equally represented. democracy, as commonly conceived and hitherto practiced, is the government of the whole people by a mere majority of the people exclusively represented. the former is synonymous with the equality of all citizens; the latter, strangely confounded with it, is a government of privilege in favor of the numerical majority, who alone possess practically any voice in the state. this is the inevitable consequence of the manner in which the votes are now taken, to the complete disfranchisement of minorities. the confusion of ideas here is great, but it is so easily cleared up that one would suppose the slightest indication would be sufficient to place the matter in its true light before any mind of average intelligence. it would be so but for the power of habit; owing to which, the simplest idea, if unfamiliar, has as great difficulty in making its way to the mind as a far more complicated one. that the minority must yield to the majority, the smaller number to the greater, is a familiar idea; and accordingly, men think there is no necessity for using their minds any further, and it does not occur to them that there is any medium between allowing the smaller number to be equally powerful with the greater, and blotting out the smaller number altogether. in a representative body actually deliberating, the minority must of course be overruled; and in an equal democracy (since the opinions of the constituents, when they insist on them, determine those of the representative body), the majority of the people, through their representatives, will outvote and prevail over the minority and their representatives. but does it follow that the minority should have no representatives at all? because the majority ought to prevail over the minority, must the majority have all the votes, the minority none? is it necessary that the minority should not even be heard? nothing but habit and old association can reconcile any reasonable being to the needless injustice. in a really equal democracy, every or any section would be represented, not disproportionately, but proportionately. a majority of the electors would always have a majority of the representatives, but a minority of the electors would always have a minority of the representatives. man for man, they would be as fully represented as the majority. unless they are, there is not equal government, but a government of inequality and privilege: one part of the people rule over the rest: there is a part whose fair and equal share of influence in the representation is withheld from them, contrary to all just government, but, above all, contrary to the principle of democracy, which professes equality as its very root and foundation. the injustice and violation of principle are not less flagrant because those who suffer by them are a minority, for there is not equal suffrage where every single individual does not count for as much as any other single individual in the community. but it is not only a minority who suffer. democracy, thus constituted, does not even attain its ostensible object, that of giving the powers of government in all cases to the numerical majority. it does something very different; it gives them to a majority of the majority, who may be, and often are, but a minority of the whole. all principles are most effectually tested by extreme cases. suppose, then, that, in a country governed by equal and universal suffrage, there is a contested election in every constituency, and every election is carried by a small majority. the parliament thus brought together represents little more than a bare majority of the people. this parliament proceeds to legislate, and adopts important measures by a bare majority of itself. what guaranty is there that these measures accord with the wishes of a majority of the people? nearly half the electors, having been outvoted at the hustings, have had no influence at all in the decision; and the whole of these may be, a majority of them probably are, hostile to the measures, having voted against those by whom they have been carried. of the remaining electors, nearly half have chosen representatives who, by supposition, have voted against the measures. it is possible, therefore, and even probable, that the opinion which has prevailed was agreeable only to a minority of the nation, though a majority of that portion of it whom the institutions of the country have erected into a ruling class. if democracy means the certain ascendancy of the majority, there are no means of insuring that, but by allowing every individual figure to tell equally in the summing up. any minority left out, either purposely or by the play of the machinery, gives the power not to the majority, but to a minority in some other part of the scale. the only answer which can possibly be made to this reasoning is, that as different opinions predominate in different localities, the opinion which is in a minority in some places has a majority in others, and on the whole every opinion which exists in the constituencies obtains its fair share of voices in the representation. and this is roughly true in the present state of the constituency; if it were not, the discordance of the house with the general sentiment of the country would soon become evident. but it would be no longer true if the present constituency were much enlarged, still less if made co-extensive with the whole population; for in that case the majority in every locality would consist of manual laborers; and when there was any question pending on which these classes were at issue with the rest of the community, no other class could succeed in getting represented any where. even now, is it not a great grievance that in every parliament a very numerous portion of the electors, willing and anxious to be represented, have no member in the house for whom they have voted? is it just that every elector of marylebone is obliged to be represented by two nominees of the vestries, every elector of finsbury or lambeth by those (as is generally believed) of the publicans? the constituencies to which most of the highly educated and public spirited persons in the country belong, those of the large towns, are now, in great part, either unrepresented or misrepresented. the electors who are on a different side in party politics from the local majority are unrepresented. of those who are on the same side, a large proportion are misrepresented; having been obliged to accept the man who had the greatest number of supporters in their political party, though his opinions may differ from theirs on every other point. the state of things is, in some respects, even worse than if the minority were not allowed to vote at all; for then, at least, the majority might have a member who would represent their own best mind; while now, the necessity of not dividing the party, for fear of letting in its opponents, induces all to vote either for the first person who presents himself wearing their colors, or for the one brought forward by their local leaders; and these, if we pay them the compliment, which they very seldom deserve, of supposing their choice to be unbiassed by their personal interests, are compelled, that they may be sure of mustering their whole strength, to bring forward a candidate whom none of the party will strongly object to--that is, a man without any distinctive peculiarity, any known opinions except the shibboleth of the party. this is strikingly exemplified in the united states; where, at the election of president, the strongest party never dares put forward any of its strongest men, because every one of these, from the mere fact that he has been long in the public eye, has made himself objectionable to some portion or other of the party, and is therefore not so sure a card for rallying all their votes as a person who has never been heard of by the public at all until he is produced as the candidate. thus, the man who is chosen, even by the strongest party, represents perhaps the real wishes only of the narrow margin by which that party outnumbers the other. any section whose support is necessary to success possesses a veto on the candidate. any section which holds out more obstinately than the rest can compel all the others to adopt its nominee; and this superior pertinacity is unhappily more likely to be found among those who are holding out for their own interest than for that of the public. speaking generally, the choice of the majority is determined by that portion of the body who are the most timid, the most narrow-minded and prejudiced, or who cling most tenaciously to the exclusive class-interest; and the electoral rights of the minority, while useless for the purposes for which votes are given, serve only for compelling the majority to accept the candidate of the weakest or worst portion of themselves. that, while recognizing these evils, many should consider them as the necessary price paid for a free government, is in no way surprising; it was the opinion of all the friends of freedom up to a recent period. but the habit of passing them over as irremediable has become so inveterate, that many persons seem to have lost the capacity of looking at them as things which they would be glad to remedy if they could. from despairing of a cure, there is too often but one step to denying the disease; and from this follows dislike to having a remedy proposed, as if the proposer were creating a mischief instead of offering relief from one. people are so inured to the evils that they feel as if it were unreasonable, if not wrong, to complain of them. yet, avoidable or not, he must be a purblind lover of liberty on whose mind they do not weigh; who would not rejoice at the discovery that they could be dispensed with. now, nothing is more certain than that the virtual blotting out of the minority is no necessary or natural consequence of freedom; that, far from having any connection with democracy, it is diametrically opposed to the first principle of democracy, representation in proportion to numbers. it is an essential part of democracy that minorities should be adequately represented. no real democracy, nothing but a false show of democracy, is possible without it. those who have seen and felt, in some degree, the force of these considerations, have proposed various expedients by which the evil may be, in a greater or less degree, mitigated. lord john russell, in one of his reform bills, introduced a provision that certain constituencies should return three members, and that in these each elector should be allowed to vote only for two; and mr. disraeli, in the recent debates, revived the memory of the fact by reproaching him for it, being of opinion, apparently, that it befits a conservative statesman to regard only means, and to disown scornfully all fellow-feeling with any one who is betrayed, even once, into thinking of ends. [ ] others have proposed that each elector should be allowed to vote only for one. by either of these plans, a minority equalling or exceeding a third of the local constituency, would be able, if it attempted no more, to return one out of three members. the same result might be attained in a still better way if, as proposed in an able pamphlet by mr. james garth marshall, the elector retained his three votes, but was at liberty to bestow them all upon the same candidate. these schemes, though infinitely better than none at all, are yet but makeshifts, and attain the end in a very imperfect manner, since all local minorities of less than a third, and all minorities, however numerous, which are made up from several constituencies, would remain unrepresented. it is much to be lamented, however, that none of these plans have been carried into effect, as any of them would have recognized the right principle, and prepared the way for its more complete application. but real equality of representation is not obtained unless any set of electors amounting to the average number of a constituency, wherever in the country they happen to reside, have the power of combining with one another to return a representative. this degree of perfection in representation appeared impracticable until a man of great capacity, fitted alike for large general views and for the contrivance of practical details--mr. thomas hare--had proved its possibility by drawing up a scheme for its accomplishment, embodied in a draft of an act of parliament; a scheme which has the almost unparalleled merit of carrying out a great principle of government in a manner approaching to ideal perfection as regards the special object in view, while it attains incidentally several other ends of scarcely inferior importance. according to this plan, the unit of representation, the quota of electors who would be entitled to have a member to themselves, would be ascertained by the ordinary process of taking averages, the number of voters being divided by the number of seats in the house; and every candidate who obtained that quota would be returned, from however great a number of local constituencies it might be gathered. the votes would, as at present, be given locally; but any elector would be at liberty to vote for any candidate, in whatever part of the country he might offer himself. those electors, therefore, who did not wish to be represented by any of the local candidates, might aid by their vote in the return of the person they liked best among all those throughout the country who had expressed a willingness to be chosen. this would so far give reality to the electoral rights of the otherwise virtually disfranchised minority. but it is important that not those alone who refuse to vote for any of the local candidates, but those also who vote for one of them and are defeated, should be enabled to find elsewhere the representation which they have not succeeded in obtaining in their own district. it is therefore provided that an elector may deliver a voting paper containing other names in addition to the one which stands foremost in his preference. his vote would only be counted for one candidate; but if the object of his first choice failed to be returned, from not having obtained the quota, his second perhaps might be more fortunate. he may extend his list to a greater number in the order of his preference, so that if the names which stand near the top of the list either can not make up the quota, or are able to make it up without his vote, the vote may still be used for some one whom it may assist in returning. to obtain the full number of members required to complete the house, as well as to prevent very popular candidates from engrossing nearly all the suffrages, it is necessary, however many votes a candidate may obtain, that no more of them than the quota should be counted for his return; the remainder of those who voted for him would have their votes counted for the next person on their respective lists who needed them, and could by their aid complete the quota. to determine which of a candidate's votes should be used for his return, and which set free for others, several methods are proposed, into which we shall not here enter. he would, of course, retain the votes of all those who would not otherwise be represented; and for the remainder, drawing lots, in default of better, would be an unobjectionable expedient. the voting papers would be conveyed to a central office, where the votes would be counted, the number of first, second, third, and other votes given for each candidate ascertained, and the quota would be allotted to every one who could make it up, until the number of the house was complete; first votes being preferred to second, second to third, and so forth. the voting papers, and all the elements of the calculation, would be placed in public repositories, accessible to all whom they concerned; and if any one who had obtained the quota was not duly returned, it would be in his power easily to prove it. these are the main provisions of the scheme. for a more minute knowledge of its very simple machinery, i must refer to mr. hare's "treatise on the election of representatives" (a small volume published in ), and to a pamphlet by mr. henry fawcett, published in , and entitled "mr. hare's reform bill simplified and explained." this last is a very clear and concise exposition of the plan, reduced to its simplest elements by the omission of some of mr. hare's original provisions, which, though in themselves beneficial, we're thought to take more from the simplicity of the scheme than they added to its practical advantages. the more these works are studied, the stronger, i venture to predict, will be the impression of the perfect feasibility of the scheme and its transcendant advantages. such and so numerous are these, that, in my conviction, they place mr. hare's plan among the very greatest improvements yet made in the theory and practice of government. in the first place, it secures a representation, in proportion to numbers, of every division of the electoral body: not two great parties alone, with perhaps a few large sectional minorities in particular places, but every minority in the whole nation, consisting of a sufficiently large number to be, on principles of equal justice, entitled to a representative. secondly, no elector would, as at present, be nominally represented by some one whom he had not chosen. every member of the house would be the representative of a unanimous constituency. he would represent a thousand electors, or two thousand, or five thousand, or ten thousand, as the quota might be, every one of whom would have not only voted for him, but selected him from the whole country; not merely from the assortment of two or three perhaps rotten oranges, which may be the only choice offered to him in his local market. under this relation the tie between the elector and the representative would be of a strength and a value of which at present we have no experience. every one of the electors would be personally identified with his representative, and the representative with his constituents. every elector who voted for him would have done so either because he is the person, in the whole list of candidates for parliament, who best expresses the voter's own opinions, or because he is one of those whose abilities and character the voter most respects, and whom he most willingly trusts to think for him. the member would represent persons, not the mere bricks and mortar of the town--the voters themselves, not a few vestrymen or parish notabilities merely. all, however, that is worth preserving in the representation of places would be preserved. though the parliament of the nation ought to have as little as possible to do with purely local affairs, yet, while it has to do with them, there ought to be members specially commissioned to look after the interests of every important locality; and these there would still be. in every locality which contained many more voters than the quota (and there probably ought to be no local consitituency which does not), the majority would generally prefer to be represented by one of themselves; by a person of local knowledge, and residing in the locality, if there is any such person to be found among the candidates, who is otherwise eligible as their representative. it would be the minorities chiefly, who, being unable to return the local member, would look out elsewhere for a candidate likely to obtain other votes in addition to their own. of all modes in which a national representation can possibly be constituted, this one affords the best security for the intellectual qualifications desirable in the representatives. at present, by universal admission, it is becoming more and more difficult for any one who has only talents and character to gain admission into the house of commons. the only persons who can get elected are those who possess local influence, or make their way by lavish expenditure, or who, on the invitation of three or four tradesmen or attorneys, are sent down by one of the two great parties from their london clubs, as men whose votes the party can depend on under all circumstances. on mr. hare's system, those who did not like the local candidates would fill up their voting papers by a selection from all the persons of national reputation on the list of candidates with whose general political principles they were in sympathy. almost every person, therefore, who had made himself in any way honorably distinguished, though devoid of local influence, and having sworn allegiance to no political party, would have a fair chance of making up the quota, and with this encouragement such persons might be expected to offer themselves in numbers hitherto undreamed of. hundreds of able men of independent thought, who would have no chance whatever of being chosen by the majority of any existing constituency, have by their writings, or their exertions in some field of public usefulness, made themselves known and approved by a few persons in almost every district of the kingdom; and if every vote that would be given for them in every place could be counted for their election, they might be able to complete the number of the quota. in no other way which it seems possible to suggest would parliament be so certain of containing the very _élite_ of the country. and it is not solely through the votes of minorities that this system of election would raise the intellectual standard of the house of commons. majorities would be compelled to look out for members of a much higher calibre. when the individuals composing the majority would no longer be reduced to hobson's choice, of either voting for the person brought forward by their local leaders, or not voting at all; when the nominee of the leaders would have to encounter the competition not solely of the candidate of the minority, but of all the men of established reputation in the country who were willing to serve, it would be impossible any longer to foist upon the electors the first person who presents himself with the catchwords of the party in his mouth, and three or four thousand pounds in his pocket. the majority would insist on having a candidate worthy of their choice, or they would carry their votes somewhere else, and the minority would prevail. the slavery of the majority to the least estimable portion of their numbers would be at an end; the very best and most capable of the local notabilities would be put forward by preference; if possible, such as were known in some advantageous way beyond the locality, that their local strength might have a chance of being fortified by stray votes from elsewhere. constituencies would become competitors for the best candidates, and would vie with one another in selecting from among the men of local knowledge and connections those who were most distinguished in every other respect. the natural tendency of representative government, as of modern civilization, is towards collective mediocrity: and this tendency is increased by all reductions and extensions of the franchise, their effect being to place the principal power in the hands of classes more and more below the highest level of instruction in the community. but, though the superior intellects and characters will necessarily be outnumbered, it makes a great difference whether or not they are heard. in the false democracy which, instead of giving representation to all, gives it only to the local majorities, the voice of the instructed minority may have no organs at all in the representative body. it is an admitted fact that in the american democracy, which is constructed on this faulty model, the highly-cultivated members of the community, except such of them as are willing to sacrifice their own opinions and modes of judgment, and become the servile mouthpieces of their inferiors in knowledge, do not even offer themselves for congress or the state legislatures, so certain is it that they would have no chance of being returned. had a plan like mr. hare's by good fortune suggested itself to the enlightened and disinterested founders of the american republic, the federal and state assemblies would have contained many of these distinguished men, and democracy would have been spared its greatest reproach and one of its most formidable evils. against this evil the system of personal representation proposed by mr. hare is almost a specific. the minority of instructed minds scattered through the local constituencies would unite to return a number, proportioned to their own numbers, of the very ablest men the country contains. they would be under the strongest inducement to choose such men, since in no other mode could they make their small numerical strength tell for any thing considerable. the representatives of the majority, besides that they would themselves be improved in quality by the operation of the system, would no longer have the whole field to themselves. they would indeed outnumber the others, as much as the one class of electors outnumbers the other in the country: they could always outvote them, but they would speak and vote in their presence, and subject to their criticism. when any difference arose, they would have to meet the arguments of the instructed few by reasons, at least apparently, as cogent; and since they could not, as those do who are speaking to persons already unanimous, simply assume that they are in the right, it would occasionally happen to them to become convinced that they were in the wrong. as they would in general be well-meaning (for thus much may reasonably be expected from a fairly-chosen national representation), their own minds would be insensibly raised by the influence of the minds with which they were in contact, or even in conflict. the champions of unpopular doctrines would not put forth their arguments merely in books and periodicals, read only by their own side; the opposing ranks would meet face to face and hand to hand, and there would be a fair comparison of their intellectual strength in the presence of the country. it would then be found out whether the opinion which prevailed by counting votes would also prevail if the votes were weighed as well as counted. the multitude have often a true instinct for distinguishing an able man when he has the means of displaying his ability in a fair field before them. if such a man fails to obtain any portion of his just weight, it is through institutions or usages which keep him out of sight. in the old democracies there were no means of keeping out of sight any able man: the bema was open to him; he needed nobody's consent to become a public adviser. it is not so in a representative government; and the best friends of representative democracy can hardly be without misgivings that the themistocles or demosthenes whose councils would have saved the nation, might be unable during his whole life ever to obtain a seat. but if the presence in the representative assembly can be insured of even a few of the first minds in the country, though the remainder consist only of average minds, the influence of these leading spirits is sure to make itself insensibly felt in the general deliberations, even though they be known to be, in many respects, opposed to the tone of popular opinion and feeling. i am unable to conceive any mode by which the presence of such minds can be so positively insured as by that proposed by mr. hare. this portion of the assembly would also be the appropriate organ of a great social function, for which there is no provision in any existing democracy, but which in no government can remain permanently unfulfilled without condemning that government to infallible degeneracy and decay. this may be called the function of antagonism. in every government there is some power stronger than all the rest; and the power which is strongest tends perpetually to become the sole power. partly by intention and partly unconsciously, it is ever striving to make all other things bend to itself, and is not content while there is any thing which makes permanent head against it, any influence not in agreement with its spirit. yet, if it succeeds in suppressing all rival influences, and moulding every thing after its own model, improvement, in that country, is at an end, and decline commences. human improvement is a product of many factors, and no power ever yet constituted among mankind includes them all: even the most beneficent power only contains in itself some of the requisites of good, and the remainder, if progress is to continue, must be derived from some other source. no community has ever long continued progressive but while a conflict was going on between the strongest power in the community and some rival power; between the spiritual and temporal authorities; the military or territorial and the industrious classes; the king and the people; the orthodox and religious reformers. when the victory on either side was so complete as to put an end to the strife, and no other conflict took its place, first stagnation followed, and then decay. the ascendancy of the numerical majority is less unjust, and, on the whole, less mischievous than many others, but it is attended with the very same kind of dangers, and even more certainly; for when the government is in the hands of one or a few, the many are always existent as a rival power, which may not be strong enough ever to control the other, but whose opinion and sentiment are a moral, and even a social support to all who, either from conviction or contrariety of interest, are opposed to any of the tendencies of the ruling authority. but when the democracy is supreme, there is no one or few strong enough for dissentient opinions and injured or menaced interests to lean upon. the great difficulty of democratic government has hitherto seemed to be, how to provide in a democratic society--what circumstances have provided hitherto in all the societies which have maintained themselves ahead of others--a social support, a _point d'appui_, for individual resistance to the tendencies of the ruling power; a protection, a rallying-point, for opinions and interests which the ascendant public opinion views with disfavor. for want of such a _point d'appui_, the older societies, and all but a few modern ones, either fell into dissolution or became stationary (which means slow deterioration) through the exclusive predominance of a part only of the conditions of social and mental well-being. now, this great want the system of personal representation is fitted to supply in the most perfect manner which the circumstances of modern society admit of. the only quarter in which to look for a supplement, or completing corrective to the instincts of a democratic majority, is the instructed minority; but, in the ordinary mode of constituting democracy, this minority has no organ: mr. hare's system provides one. the representatives who would be returned to parliament by the aggregate of minorities would afford that organ in its greatest perfection. a separate organization of the instructed classes, even if practicable, would be invidious, and could only escape from being offensive by being totally without influence. but if the _élite_ of these classes formed part of the parliament, by the same title as any other of its members--by representing the same number of citizens, the same numerical fraction of the national will--their presence could give umbrage to nobody, while they would be in the position of highest vantage, both for making their opinions and councils heard on all important subjects, and for taking an active part in public business. their abilities would probably draw to them more than their numerical share of the actual administration of government; as the athenians did not confide responsible public functions to cleon or hyperbolus (the employment of cleon at pylos and amphipolis was purely exceptional), but nicias, and theramenes, and alcibiades were in constant employment both at home and abroad, though known to sympathize more with oligarchy than with democracy. the instructed minority would, in the actual voting, count only for their numbers, but as a moral power they would count for much more, in virtue of their knowledge, and of the influence it would give them over the rest. an arrangement better adapted to keep popular opinion within reason and justice, and to guard it from the various deteriorating influences which assail the weak side of democracy, could scarcely by human ingenuity be devised. a democratic people would in this way be provided with what in any other way it would almost certainly miss--leaders of a higher grade of intellect and character than itself. modern democracy would have its occasional pericles, and its habitual group of superior and guiding minds. with all this array of reasons, of the most fundamental character, on the affirmative side of the question, what is there on the negative? nothing that will sustain examination, when people can once be induced to bestow any real examination upon a new thing. those indeed, if any such there be, who, under pretense of equal justice, aim only at substituting the class ascendancy of the poor for that of the rich, will of course be unfavorable to a scheme which places both on a level. but i do not believe that any such wish exists at present among the working classes of this country, though i would not answer for the effect which opportunity and demagogic artifices may hereafter have in exciting it. in the united states, where the numerical majority have long been in full possession of collective despotism, they would probably be as unwilling to part with it as a single despot or an aristocracy. but i believe that the english democracy would as yet be content with protection against the class legislation of others, without claiming the power to exercise it in their turn. among the ostensible objectors to mr. hare's scheme, some profess to think the plan unworkable; but these, it will be found, are generally people who have barely heard of it, or have given it a very slight and cursory examination. others are unable to reconcile themselves to the loss of what they term the local character of the representation. a nation does not seem to them to consist of persons, but of artificial units, the creation of geography and statistics. parliament must represent towns and counties, not human beings. but no one seeks to annihilate towns and counties. towns and counties, it may be presumed, are represented when the human beings who inhabit them are represented. local feelings can not exist without somebody who feels them, nor local interests without somebody interested in them. if the human beings whose feelings and interests these are have their proper share of representation, these feelings and interests are represented in common with all other feelings and interests of those persons. but i can not see why the feelings and interests which arrange mankind according to localities should be the only one thought worthy of being represented; or why people who have other feelings and interests, which they value more than they do their geographical ones, should be restricted to these as the sole principle of their political classification. the notion that yorkshire and middlesex have rights apart from those of their inhabitants, or that liverpool and exeter are the proper objects of the legislator's care, in contradistinction the population of those places, is a curious specimen of delusion produced by words. in general, however, objectors cut the matter short by affirming that the people of england will never consent to such a system. what the people of england are likely to think of those who pass such a summary sentence on their capacity of understanding and judgment, deeming it superfluous to consider whether a thing is right or wrong before affirming that they are certain to reject it, i will not undertake to say. for my own part, i do not think that the people of england have deserved to be, without trial, stigmatized as insurmountably prejudiced against any thing which can be proved to be good either for themselves or for others. it also appears to me that when prejudices persist obstinately, it is the fault of nobody so much as of those who make a point of proclaiming them insuperable, as an excuse to themselves for never joining in an attempt to remove them. any prejudice whatever will be insurmountable if those who do not share it themselves truckle to it, and flatter it, and accept it as a law of nature. i believe, however, that of prejudice, properly speaking, there is in this case none except on the lips of those who talk about it, and that there is in general, among those who have yet heard of the proposition, no other hostility to it than the natural and healthy distrust attaching to all novelties which have not been sufficiently canvassed to make generally manifest all the pros and cons of the question. the only serious obstacle is the unfamiliarity: this, indeed, is a formidable one, for the imagination much more easily reconciles itself to a great alteration in substance than to a very small one in names and forms. but unfamiliarity is a disadvantage which, when there is any real value in an idea, it only requires time to remove; and in these days of discussion and generally awakened interest in improvement, what formerly was the work of centuries often requires only years. chapter viii--of the extension of the suffrage. such a representative democracy as has now been sketched--representative of all, and not solely of the majority--in which the interests, the opinions, the grades of intellect which are outnumbered would nevertheless be heard, and would have a chance of obtaining by weight of character and strength of argument an influence which would not belong to their numerical force--this democracy, which is alone equal, alone impartial, alone the government of all by all, the only true type of democracy, would be free from the greatest evils of the falsely-called democracies which now prevail, and from which the current idea of democracy is exclusively derived. but even in this democracy, absolute power, if they chose to exercise it, would rest with the numerical majority, and these would be composed exclusively of a single class, alike in biases, prepossessions, and general modes of thinking, and a class, to say no more, not the most highly cultivated. the constitution would therefore still be liable to the characteristic evils of class government; in a far less degree, assuredly, than that exclusive government by a class which now usurps the name of democracy, but still under no effective restraint except what might be found in the good sense, moderation, and forbearance of the class itself. if checks of this description are sufficient, the philosophy of constitutional government is but solemn trifling. all trust in constitutions is grounded on the assurance they may afford, not that the depositaries of power will not, but that they can not misemploy it. democracy is not the ideally best form of government unless this weak side of it can be strengthened; unless it can be so organized that no class, not even the most numerous, shall be able to reduce all but itself to political insignificance, and direct the course of legislation and administration by its exclusive class interest. the problem is to find the means of preventing this abuse without sacrificing the characteristic advantages of popular government. these twofold requisites are not fulfilled by the expedient of a limitation of the suffrage, involving the compulsory exclusion of any portion of the citizens from a voice in the representation. among the foremost benefits of free government is that education of the intelligence and of the sentiments which is carried down to the very lowest ranks of the people when they are called to take a part in acts which directly affect the great interests of their country. on this topic i have already dwelt so emphatically that i only return to it because there are few who seem to attach to this effect of popular institutions all the importance to which it is entitled. people think it fanciful to expect so much from what seems so slight a cause--to recognize a potent instrument of mental improvement in the exercise of political franchises by manual laborers. yet, unless substantial mental cultivation in the mass of mankind is to be a mere vision, this is the road by which it must come. if any one supposes that this road will not bring it, i call to witness the entire contents of m. de tocqueville's great work, and especially his estimate of the americans. almost all travelers are struck by the fact that every american is in some sense both a patriot and a person of cultivated intelligence; and m. de tocqueville has shown how close the connection is between these qualities and their democratic institutions. no such wide diffusion of the ideas, tastes, and sentiments of educated minds has ever been seen elsewhere, or even conceived as attainable. yet this is nothing to what we might look for in a government equally democratic in its unexclusiveness, but better organized in other important points. for political life is indeed in america a most valuable school, but it is a school from which the ablest teachers are excluded; the first minds in the country being as effectually shut out from the national representation, and from public functions generally, as if they were under a formal disqualification. the demos, too, being in america the one source of power, all the selfish ambition of the country gravitates towards it, as it does in despotic countries towards the monarch; the people, like the despot, is pursued with adulation and sycophancy, and the corrupting effects of power fully keep pace with its improving and ennobling influences. if, even with this alloy, democratic institutions produce so marked a superiority of mental development in the lowest class of americans, compared with the corresponding classes in england and elsewhere, what would it be if the good portion of the influence could be retained without the bad? and this, to a certain extent, may be done, but not by excluding that portion of the people who have fewest intellectual stimuli of other kinds from so inestimable an introduction to large, distant, and complicated interests as is afforded by the attention they may be induced to bestow on political affairs. it is by political discussion that the manual laborer, whose employment is a routine, and whose way of life brings him in contact with no variety of impressions, circumstances, or ideas, is taught that remote causes, and events which take place far off, have a most sensible effect even on his personal interests; and it is from political discussion and collective political action that one whose daily occupations concentrate his interests in a small circle round himself, learns to feel for and with his fellow-citizens, and becomes consciously a member of a great community. but political discussions fly over the heads of those who have no votes, and are not endeavouring to acquire them. their position, in comparison with the electors, is that of the audience in a court of justice compared with the twelve men in the jury-box. it is not _their_ suffrages that are asked, it is not their opinion that is sought to be influenced; the appeals are made, the arguments addressed, to others than them; nothing depends on the decision _they_ may arrive at, and there is no necessity and very little inducement to them to come to any. whoever, in an otherwise popular government, has no vote, and no prospect of obtaining it, will either be a permanent malcontent, or will feel as one whom the general affairs of society do not concern; for whom they are to be managed by others; who "has no business with the laws except to obey them," nor with public interests and concerns except as a looker-on. what he will know or care about them from this position may partly be measured by what an average woman of the middle class knows and cares about politics compared with her husband or brothers. independently of all these considerations, it is a personal injustice to withhold from any one, unless for the prevention of greater evils, the ordinary privilege of having his voice reckoned in the disposal of affairs in which he has the same interest as other people. if he is compelled to pay, if he may be compelled to fight, if he is required implicitly to obey, he should be legally entitled to be told what for; to have his consent asked, and his opinion counted at its worth, though not at more than its worth. there ought to be no pariahs in a full-grown and civilized nation; no persons disqualified except through their own default. every one is degraded, whether aware of it or not, when other people, without consulting him, take upon themselves unlimited power to regulate his destiny. and even in a much more improved state than the human mind has ever yet reached, it is not in nature that they who are thus disposed of should meet with as fair play as those who have a voice. rulers and ruling classes are under a necessity of considering the interests and wishes of those who have the suffrage; but of those who are excluded, it is in their option whether they will do so or not; and, however honestly disposed, they are, in general, too fully occupied with things which they _must_ attend to to have much room in their thoughts for any thing which they can with impunity disregard. no arrangement of the suffrage, therefore, can be permanently satisfactory in which any person or class is peremptorily excluded--in which the electoral privilege is not open to all persons of full age who desire to obtain it. there are, however, certain exclusions, required by positive reasons, which do not conflict with this principle, and which, though an evil in themselves, are only to be got rid of by the cessation of the state of things which requires them. i regard it as wholly inadmissible that any person should participate in the suffrage without being able to read, write, and, i will add, perform the common operations of arithmetic. justice demands, even when the suffrage does not depend on it, that the means of attaining these elementary acquirements should be within the reach of every person, either gratuitously, or at an expense not exceeding what the poorest, who can earn their own living, can afford. if this were really the case, people would no more think of giving the suffrage to a man who could not read, than of giving it to a child who could not speak; and it would not be society that would exclude him, but his own laziness. when society has not performed its duty by rendering this amount of instruction accessible to all, there is some hardship in the case, but it is a hardship that ought to be borne. if society has neglected to discharge two solemn obligations, the more important and more fundamental of the two must be fulfilled first; universal teaching must precede universal enfranchisement. no one but those in whom an _à priori_ theory has silenced common sense will maintain that power over others, over the whole community, should be imparted to people who have not acquired the commonest and most essential requisities for taking care of themselves--for pursuing intelligently their own interests, and those of the persons most nearly allied to them. this argument, doubtless, might be pressed further, and made to prove much more. it would be eminently desirable that other things besides reading, writing, and arithmetic could be made necessary to the suffrage; that some knowledge of the conformation of the earth, its natural and political divisions, the elements of general history, and of the history and institutions of their own country, could be required from all electors. but these kinds of knowledge, however indispensable to an intelligent use of the suffrage, are not, in this country, nor probably any where save in the northern united states, accessible to the whole people, nor does there exist any trustworthy machinery for ascertaining whether they have been acquired or not. the attempt, at present, would lead to partiality, chicanery, and every kind of fraud. it is better that the suffrage should be conferred indiscriminately, or even withheld indiscriminately, than that it should be given to one and withheld from another at the discretion of a public officer. in regard, however, to reading, writing, and calculating, there need be no difficulty. it would be easy to require from every one who presented himself for registry that he should, in the presence of the registrar, copy a sentence from an english book, and perform a sum in the rule of three; and to secure, by fixed rules and complete publicity, the honest application of so very simple a test. this condition, therefore, should in all cases accompany universal suffrage; and it would, after a few years, exclude none but those who cared so little for the privilege, that their vote, if given, would not in general be an indication of any real political opinion. it is also important, that the assembly which votes the taxes, either general or local, should be elected exclusively by those who pay something towards the taxes imposed. those who pay no taxes, disposing by their votes of other people's money, have every motive to be lavish and none to economize. as far as money matters are concerned, any power of voting possessed by them is a violation of the fundamental principle of free government, a severance of the power of control from the interest in its beneficial exercise. it amounts to allowing them to put their hands into other people's pockets for any purpose which they think fit to call a public one, which, in the great towns of the united states, is known to have produced a scale of local taxation onerous beyond example, and wholly borne by the wealthier classes. that representation should be coextensive with taxation, not stopping short of it, but also not going beyond it, is in accordance with the theory of british institutions. but to reconcile this, as a condition annexed to the representation, with universality, it is essential, as it is on many other accounts desirable, that taxation, in a visible shape, should descend to the poorest class. in this country, and in most others, there is probably no laboring family which does not contribute to the indirect taxes, by the purchase of tea, coffee, sugar, not to mention narcotics or stimulants. but this mode of defraying a share of the public expenses is hardly felt: the payer, unless a person of education and reflection, does not identify his interest with a low scale of public expenditure as closely as when money for its support is demanded directly from himself; and even supposing him to do so, he would doubtless take care that, however lavish an expenditure he might, by his vote, assist in imposing upon the government, it should not be defrayed by any additional taxes on the articles which he himself consumes. it would be better that a direct tax, in the simple form of a capitation, should be levied on every grown person in the community; or that every such person should be admitted an elector on allowing himself to be rated _extra ordinem_ to the assessed taxes; or that a small annual payment, rising and falling with the gross expenditure of the country, should be required from every registered elector, that so every one might feel that the money which he assisted in voting was partly his own, and that he was interested in keeping down its amount. however this may be, i regard it as required by first principles that the receipt of parish relief should be a peremptory disqualification for the franchise. he who can not by his labor suffice for his own support, has no claim to the privilege of helping himself to the money of others. by becoming dependent on the remaining members of the community for actual subsistence, he abdicates his claim to equal rights with them in other respects. those to whom he is indebted for the continuance of his very existence may justly claim the exclusive management of those common concerns to which he now brings nothing, or less than he takes away. as a condition of the franchise, a term should be fixed, say five years previous to the registry, during which the applicant's name has not been on the parish books as a recipient of relief. to be an uncertificated bankrupt, or to have taken the benefit of the insolvent act, should disqualify for the franchise until the person has paid his debts, or at least proved that he is not now, and has not for some long period been, dependent on eleemosynary support. non-payment of taxes, when so long persisted in that it can not have arisen from inadvertence, should disqualify while it lasts. these exclusions are not in their nature permanent. they exact such conditions only as all are able, or ought to be able, to fulfill if they choose. they leave the suffrage accessible to all who are in the normal condition of a human being; and if any one has to forego it, he either does not care sufficiently for it to do for its sake what he is already bound to do, or he is in a general condition of depression and degradation in which this slight addition, necessary for the security of others, would be unfelt, and on emerging from which this mark of inferiority would disappear with the rest. in the long run, therefore (supposing no restrictions to exist but those of which we have now treated), we might expect that all, except that (it is to be hoped) progressively diminishing class, the recipients of parish relief, would be in possession of votes, so that the suffrage would be, with that slight abatement, universal. that it should be thus widely expanded is, as we have seen, absolutely necessary to an enlarged and elevated conception of good government. yet in this state of things, the great majority of voters in most countries, and emphatically in this, would be manual laborers, and the twofold danger, that of too low a standard of political intelligence, and that of class legislation, would still exist in a very perilous degree. it remains to be seen whether any means exist by which these evils can be obviated. they are capable of being obviated if men sincerely wish it; not by any artificial contrivance, but by carrying out the natural order of human life, which recommends itself to every one in things in which he has no interest or traditional opinion running counter to it. in all human affairs, every person directly interested, and not under positive tutelage, has an admitted claim to a voice, and when his exercise of it is not inconsistent with the safety of the whole, can not justly be excluded from it. but (though every one ought to have a voice) that every one should have an equal voice is a totally different proposition. when two persons who have a joint interest in any business differ in opinion, does justice require that both opinions should be held of exactly equal value? if with equal virtue, one is superior to the other in knowledge and intelligence--or if with equal intelligence, one excels the other in virtue--the opinion, the judgment of the higher moral or intellectual being is worth more than that of the inferior; and if the institutions of the country virtually assert that they are of the same value, they assert a thing which is not. one of the two, as the wiser or better man, has a claim to superior weight: the difficulty is in ascertaining which of the two it is; a thing impossible as between individuals, but, taking men in bodies and in numbers, it can be done with a certain approach to accuracy. there would be no pretense for applying this doctrine to any case which can with reason be considered as one of individual and private right. in an affair which concerns only one of two persons, that one is entitled to follow his own opinion, however much wiser the other may be than himself. but we are speaking of things which equally concern them both; where, if the more ignorant does not yield his share of the matter to the guidance of the wiser man, the wiser man must resign his to that of the more ignorant. which of these modes of getting over the difficulty is most for the interest of both, and most conformable to the general fitness of things? if it be deemed unjust that either should have to give way, which injustice is greatest? that the better judgment should give way to the worse, or the worse to the better? now national affairs are exactly such a joint concern, with the difference that no one needs ever be called upon for a complete sacrifice of his own opinion. it can always be taken into the calculation, and counted at a certain figure, a higher figure being assigned to the suffrages of those whose opinion is entitled to greater weight. there is not in this arrangement any thing necessarily invidious to those to whom it assigns the lower degrees of influence. entire exclusion from a voice in the common concerns is one thing: the concession to others of a more potential voice, on the ground of greater capacity for the management of the joint interests, is another. the two things are not merely different, they are incommensurable. every one has a right to feel insulted by being made a nobody, and stamped as of no account at all. no one but a fool, and only a fool of a peculiar description, feels offended by the acknowledgment that there are others whose opinion, and even whose wish, is entitled to a greater amount of consideration than his. to have no voice in what are partly his own concerns is a thing which nobody willingly submits to; but when what is partly his concern is also partly another's, and he feels the other to understand the subject better than himself, that the other's opinion should be counted for more than his own accords with his expectations, and with the course of things which in all other affairs of life he is accustomed to acquiese in. it is only necessary that this superior influence should be assigned on grounds which he can comprehend, and of which he is able to perceive the justice. i hasten to say that i consider it entirely inadmissible, unless as a temporary makeshift, that the superiority of influence should be conferred in consideration of property. i do not deny that property is a kind of test; education, in most countries, though any thing but proportional to riches, is on the average better in the richer half of society than in the poorer. but the criterion is so imperfect; accident has so much more to do than merit with enabling men to rise in the world; and it is so impossible for any one, by acquiring any amount of instruction, to make sure of the corresponding rise in station, that this foundation of electoral privilege is always, and will continue to be, supremely odious. to connect plurality of votes with any pecuniary qualification would be not only objectionable in itself, but a sure mode of compromising the principle, and making its permanent maintenance impracticable. the democracy, at least of this country, are not at present jealous of personal superiority, but they are naturally and must justly so of that which is grounded on mere pecuniary circumstances. the only thing which can justify reckoning one person's opinion as equivalent to more than one is individual mental superiority, and what is wanted is some approximate means of ascertaining that. if there existed such a thing as a really national education or a trustworthy system of general examination, education might be tested directly. in the absence of these, the nature of a person's occupation is some test. an employer of labor is on the average more intelligent than a laborer; for he must labor with his head, and not solely with his hands. a foreman is generally more intelligent than an ordinary laborer, and a laborer in the skilled trades than in the unskilled. a banker, merchant, or manufacturer is likely to be more intelligent than a tradesman, because he has larger and more complicated interests to manage. in all these cases it is not the having merely undertaken the superior function, but the successful performance of it, that tests the qualifications; for which reason, as well as to prevent persons from engaging nominally in an occupation for the sake of the vote, it would be proper to require that the occupation should have been persevered in for some length of time (say three years). subject to some such condition, two or more votes might be allowed to every person who exercises any of these superior functions. the liberal professions, when really and not nominally practiced, imply, of course, a still higher degree of instruction; and wherever a sufficient examination, or any serious conditions of education, are required before entering on a profession, its members could be admitted at once to a plurality of votes. the same rule might be applied to graduates of universities; and even to those who bring satisfactory certificates of having passed through the course of study required by any school at which the higher branches of knowledge are taught, under proper securities that the teaching is real, and not a mere pretense. the "local" or "middle class" examination for the degree of associate, so laudably and public-spiritedly established by the university of oxford, and any similar ones which may be instituted by other competent bodies (provided they are fairly open to all comers), afford a ground on which plurality of votes might with great advantage be accorded to those who have passed the test. all these suggestions are open to much discussion in the detail, and to objections which it is of no use to anticipate. the time is not come for giving to such plans a practical shape, nor should i wish to be bound by the particular proposals which i have made. but it is to me evident that in this direction lies the true ideal of representative government; and that to work towards it by the best practical contrivances which can be found is the path of real political improvement. if it be asked to what length the principle admits of being carried, or how many votes might be accorded to an individual on the ground of superior qualifications, i answer, that this is not in itself very material, provided the distinctions and gradations are not made arbitrarily, but are such as can be understood and accepted by the general conscience and understanding. but it is an absolute condition not to overpass the limit prescribed by the fundamental principle laid down in a former chapter as the condition of excellence in the constitution of a representative system. the plurality of votes must on no account be carried so far that those who are privileged by it, or the class (if any) to which they mainly belong, shall outweigh by means of it all the rest of the community. the distinction in favor of education, right in itself, is farther and strongly recommended by its preserving the educated from the class legislation of the uneducated; but it must stop short of enabling them to practice class legislation on their own account. let me add, that i consider it an absolutely necessary part of the plurality scheme that it be open to the poorest individual in the community to claim its privileges, if he can prove that, in spite of all difficulties and obstacles, he is, in point of intelligence, entitled to them. there ought to be voluntary examinations at which any person whatever might present himself, might prove that he came up to the standard of knowledge and ability laid down as sufficient, and be admitted, in consequence, to the plurality of votes. a privilege which is not refused to any one who can show that he has realized the conditions on which in theory and principle it is dependent, would not necessarily be repugnant to any one's sentiment of justice; but it would certainly be so if, while conferred on general presumptions not always infallible, it were denied to direct proof. plural voting, though practiced in vestry elections and those of poor-law guardians, is so unfamiliar in elections to parliament that it is not likely to be soon or willingly adopted; but as the time will certainly arrive when the only choice will be between this and equal universal suffrage, whoever does not desire the last can not too soon begin to reconcile himself to the former. in the mean time, though the suggestion, for the present, may not be a practical one, it will serve to mark what is best in principle, and enable us to judge of the eligibility of any indirect means, either existing or capable of being adopted, which may promote in a less perfect manner the same end. a person may have a double vote by other means than that of tendering two votes at the same hustings; he may have a vote in each of two different constituencies; and though this exceptional privilege at present belongs rather to superiority of means than of intelligence, i would not abolish it where it exists, since, until a truer test of education is adopted, it would be unwise to dispense with even so imperfect a one as is afforded by pecuniary circumstances. means might be found of giving a farther extension to the privilege, which would connect it in a more direct manner with superior education. in any future reform bill which lowers greatly the pecuniary conditions of the suffrage, it might be a wise provision to allow all graduates of universities, all persons who have passed creditably through the higher schools, all members of the liberal professions, and perhaps some others, to be registered specifically in those characters, and to give their votes as such in any constituency in which they choose to register; retaining, in addition, their votes as simple citizens in the localities in which they reside. until there shall have been devised, and until opinion is willing to accept, some mode of plural voting which may assign to education as such the degree of superior influence due to it, and sufficient as a counterpoise to the numerical weight of the least educated class, for so long the benefits of completely universal suffrage can not be obtained without bringing with them, as it appears to me, more than equivalent evils. it is possible, indeed (and this is perhaps one of the transitions through which we may have to pass in our progress to a really good representative system), that the barriers which restrict the suffrage might be entirely leveled in some particular constituencies, whose members, consequently, would be returned principally by manual laborers; the existing electoral qualification being maintained elsewhere, or any alteration in it being accompanied by such a grouping of the constituencies as to prevent the laboring class from becoming preponderant in parliament. by such a compromise, the anomalies in the representation would not only be retained, but augmented; this, however, is not a conclusive objection; for if the country does not choose to pursue the right ends by a regular system directly leading to them, it must be content with an irregular makeshift, as being greatly preferable to a system free from irregularities, but regularly adapted to wrong ends, or in which some ends equally necessary with the others have been left out. it is a far graver objection, that this adjustment is incompatible with the intercommunity of local constituencies which mr. hare's plan requires; that under it every voter would remain imprisoned within the one or more constituencies in which his name is registered, and, unless willing to be represented by one of the candidates for those localities, would not be represented at all. so much importance do i attach to the emancipation of those who already have votes, but whose votes are useless, because always outnumbered--so much should i hope from the natural influence of truth and reason, if only secured a hearing and a competent advocacy, that i should not despair of the operation even of equal and universal suffrage, if made real by the proportional representation of all minorities, on mr. hare's principle. but if the best hopes which can be formed on this subject were certainties, i should still contend for the principle of plural voting. i do not propose the plurality as a thing in itself undesirable, which, like the exclusion of part of the community from the suffrage, may be temporarily tolerated while necessary to prevent greater evils. i do not look upon equal voting as among the things which are good in themselves, provided they can be guarded against inconveniences. i look upon it as only relatively good; less objectionable than inequality of privilege grounded on irrelevant or adventitious circumstances, but in principle wrong, because recognizing a wrong standard, and exercising a bad influence on the voter's mind. it is not useful, but hurtful, that the constitution of the country should declare ignorance to be entitled to as much political power as knowledge. the national institutions should place all things that they are concerned with before the mind of the citizen in the light in which it is for his good that he should regard them; and as it is for his good that he should think that every one is entitled to some influence, but the better and wiser to more than others, it is important that this conviction should be professed by the state, and embodied in the national institutions. such things constitute the _spirit_ of the institutions of a country; that portion of their influence which is least regarded by common, and especially by english thinkers, though the institutions of every country, not under great positive oppression, produce more effect by their spirit than by any of their direct provisions, since by it they shape the national character. the american institutions have imprinted strongly on the american mind that any one man (with a white skin) is as good as any other; and it is felt that this false creed is nearly connected with some of the more unfavorable points in american character. it is not small mischief that the constitution of any country should sanction this creed; for the belief in it, whether express or tacit, is almost as detrimental to moral and intellectual excellence any effect which most forms of government can produce. it may, perhaps, be said, that a constitution which gives equal influence, man for man, to the most and to the least instructed, is nevertheless conducive to progress, because the appeals constantly made to the less instructed classes, the exercise given to their mental powers, and the exertions which the more instructed are obliged to make for enlightening their judgment and ridding them of errors and prejudices, are powerful stimulants to their advance in intelligence. that this most desirable effect really attends the admission of the less educated classes to some, and even to a large share of power, i admit, and have already strenuously maintained. but theory and experience alike prove that a counter current sets in when they are made the possessors of all power. those who are supreme over every thing, whether they be one, or few, or many, have no longer need of the arms of reason; they can make their mere will prevail; and those who can not be resisted are usually far too well satisfied with their own opinions to be willing to change them, or listen without impatience to any one who tells them that they are in the wrong. the position which gives the strongest stimulus to the growth of intelligence is that of rising into power, not that of having achieved it; and of all resting-points, temporary or permanent, in the way to ascendancy, the one which develops the best and highest qualities is the position of those who are strong enough to make reason prevail, but not strong enough to prevail against reason. this is the position in which, according to the principles we have laid down, the rich and the poor, the much and the little educated, and all the other classes and denominations which divide society between them, ought as far as practicable to be placed; and by combining this principle with the otherwise just one of allowing superiority of weight to superiority of mental qualities, a political constitution would realize that kind of relative perfection which is alone compatible with the complicated nature of human affairs. in the preceding argument for universal but graduated suffrage, i have taken no account of difference of sex. i consider it to be as entirely irrelevant to political rights as difference in height or in the color of the hair. all human beings have the same interest in good government; the welfare of all is alike affected by it, and they have equal need of a voice in it to secure their share of its benefits. if there be any difference, women require it more than men, since, being physically weaker, they are more dependent on law and society for protection. mankind have long since abandoned the only premises which will support the conclusion that women ought not to have votes. no one now holds that women should be in personal servitude; that they should have no thought, wish, or occupation but to be the domestic drudges of husbands, fathers, or brothers. it is allowed to unmarried, and wants but little of being conceded to married women to hold property, and have pecuniary and business interests in the same manner as men. it is considered suitable and proper that women should think, and write, and be teachers. as soon as these things are admitted, the political disqualification has no principle to rest on. the whole mode of thought of the modern world is, with increasing emphasis, pronouncing against the claim of society to decide for individuals what they are and are not fit for, and what they shall and shall not be allowed to attempt. if the principles of modern politics and political economy are good for any thing, it is for proving that these points can only be rightly judged of by the individuals themselves; and that, under complete freedom of choice, wherever there are real diversities of aptitude, the greater number will apply themselves to the things for which they are on the average fittest, and the exceptional course will only be taken by the exceptions. either the whole tendency of modern social improvements has been wrong, or it ought to be carried out to the total abolition of all exclusions and disabilities which close any honest employment to a human being. but it is not even necessary to maintain so much in order to prove that women should have the suffrage. were it as right as it is wrong that they should be a subordinate class, confined to domestic occupations and subject to domestic authority, they would not the less require the protection of the suffrage to secure them from the abuse of that authority. men, as well as women, do not need political rights in order that they may govern, but in order that they may not be misgoverned. the majority of the male sex are, and will be all their lives, nothing else than laborers in corn-fields or manufactories; but this does not render the suffrage less desirable for them, nor their claim to it less irresistible, when not likely to make a bad use of it. nobody pretends to think that woman would make a bad use of the suffrage. the worst that is said is that they would vote as mere dependents, the bidding of their male relations. if it be so, so let it be. if they think for themselves, great good will be done; and if they do not, no harm. it is a benefit to human beings to take off their fetters, even if they do not desire to walk. it would already be a great improvement in the moral position of women to be no longer declared by law incapable of an opinion, and not entitled to a preference, respecting the most important concerns of humanity. there would be some benefit to them individually in having something to bestow which their male relatives can not exact, and are yet desirous to have. it would also be no small matter that the husband would necessarily discuss the matter with his wife, and that the vote would not be his exclusive affair, but a joint concern. people do not sufficiently consider how markedly the fact that she is able to have some action on the outward world independently of him, raises her dignity and value in a vulgar man's eyes, and makes her the object of a respect which no personal qualities would ever obtain for one whose social existence he can entirely appropriate. the vote itself, too, would be improved in quality. the man would often be obliged to find honest reasons for his vote, such as might induce a more upright and impartial character to serve with him under the same banner. the wife's influence would often keep him true to his own sincere opinion. often, indeed, it would be used, not on the side of public principle, but of the personal interest or worldly vanity of the family. but, wherever this would be the tendency of the wife's influence, it is exerted to the full already in that bad direction, and with the more certainty, since under the present law and custom she is generally too utter a stranger to politics in any sense in which they involve principle to be able to realize to herself that there is a point of honor in them; and most people have as little sympathy in the point of honor of others, when their own is not placed in the same thing, as they have in the religious feelings of those whose religion differs from theirs. give the woman a vote, and she comes under the operation of the political point of honor. she learns to look on politics as a thing on which she is allowed to have an opinion, and in which, if one has an opinion, it ought to be acted upon; she acquires a sense of personal accountability in the matter, and will no longer feel, as she does at present, that whatever amount of bad influence she may exercise, if the man can but be persuaded, all is right, and his responsibility covers all. it is only by being herself encouraged to form an opinion, and obtain an intelligent comprehension of the reasons which ought to prevail with the conscience against the temptations of personal or family interest, that she can ever cease to act as a disturbing force on the political conscience of the man. her indirect agency can only be prevented from being politically mischievous by being exchanged for direct. i have supposed the right of suffrage to depend, as in a good state of things it would, on personal conditions. where it depends, as in this and most other countries, on conditions of property, the contradiction is even more flagrant. there something more than ordinarily irrational in the fact that when a woman can give all the guarantees required from a male elector, independent circumstances, the position of a householder and head of a family, payment of taxes, or whatever may be the conditions imposed, the very principle and system of a representation based on property is set aside, and an exceptionally personal disqualification is created for the mere purpose of excluding her. when it is added that in the country where this is done a woman now reigns, and that the most glorious ruler whom that country ever had was a woman, the picture of unreason and scarcely disguised injustice is complete. let us hope that as the work proceeds of pulling down, one after another, the remains of the mouldering fabric of monopoly and tyranny, this one will not be the last to disappear; that the opinion of bentham, of mr. samuel bailey, of mr. hare, and many other of the most powerful political thinkers of this age and country (not to speak of others), will make its way to all minds not rendered obdurate by selfishness or inveterate prejudice; and that, before the lapse another generation, the accident of sex, no more than the accident of skin, will be deemed a sufficient justification for depriving its possessor of the equal protection and just privileges of a citizen. chapter ix--should there be two stages of election? in some representative constitutions, the plan has been adopted of choosing the members of the representative body by a double process, the primary electors only choosing other electors, and these electing the member of parliament. this contrivance was probably intended as a slight impediment to the full sweep of popular feeling, giving the suffrage, and with it the complete ultimate power, to the many, but compelling them to exercise it through the agency of a comparatively few, who, it was supposed, would be less moved than the demos by the gusts of popular passion; and as the electors, being already a select body, might be expected to exceed in intellect and character the common level of their constituents, the choice made by them was thought likely to be more careful and enlightened, and would, in any case, be made under a greater feeling of responsibility than election by the masses themselves. this plan of filtering, as it were, the popular suffrage through an intermediate body admits of a very plausible defense; since it may be said, with great appearance of reason, that less intellect and instruction are required for judging who among our neighbors can be most safely trusted to choose a member of parliament than who is himself fittest to be one. in the first place, however, if the dangers incident to popular power may be thought to be in some degree lessened by this indirect management, so also are its benefits; and the latter effect is much more certain than the former. to enable the system to work as desired, it must be carried into effect in the spirit in which it is planned; the electors must use the suffrage in the manner supposed by the theory, that is, each of them must not ask himself who the member of parliament should be, but only whom he would best like to choose one for him. it is evident that the advantages which indirect is supposed to have over direct election require this disposition of mind in the voter, and will only be realized by his taking the doctrine _au serieux_, that his sole business is to choose the choosers, not the member himself. the supposition must be, that he will not occupy his thoughts with political opinions and measures or political men, but will be guided by his personal respect for some private individual, to whom he will give a general power of attorney to act for him. now if the primary electors adopt this view of their position, one of the principal uses of giving them a vote at all is defeated; the political function to which they are called fails of developing public spirit and political intelligence, of making public affairs an object of interest to their feelings and of exercise to their faculties. the supposition, moreover, involves inconsistent conditions; for if the voter feels no interest in the final result, how or why can he be expected to feel any in the process which leads to it? to wish to have a particular individual for his representative in parliament is possible to a person of a very moderate degree of virtue and intelligence, and to wish to choose an elector who will elect that individual is a natural consequence; but for a person who does not care who is elected, or feels bound to put that consideration in abeyance, to take any interest whatever in merely naming the worthiest person to elect another according to his own judgment, implies a zeal for what is right in the abstract, an habitual principle of duty for the sake of duty, which is possible only to persons of a rather high grade of cultivation, who, by the very possession of it, show that they may be, and deserve to be, trusted with political power in a more direct shape. of all public functions which it is possible to confer on the poorer members of the community, this surely is the least calculated to kindle their feelings, and holds out least natural inducement to care for it, other than a virtuous determination to discharge conscientiously whatever duty one has to perform; and if the mass of electors cared enough about political affairs to set any value on so limited a participation in them, they would not be likely to be satisfied without one much more extensive. in the next place, admitting that a person who, from his narrow range of cultivation, can not judge well of the qualifications of a candidate for parliament, may be a sufficient judge of the honesty and general capacity of somebody whom he may depute to choose a member of parliament for him, i may remark, that if the voter acquiesces in this estimate of his capabilities, and really wishes to have the choice made for him by a person in whom he places reliance, there is no need of any constitutional provision for the purpose; he has only to ask this confidential person privately what candidate he had better vote for. in that case the two modes of election coincide in their result, and every advantage of indirect election is obtained under direct. the systems only diverge in their operation if we suppose that the voter would prefer to use his own judgment in the choice of a representative, and only lets another choose for him because the law does not allow him a more direct mode of action. but if this be his state of mind; if his will does not go along with the limitation which the law imposes, and he desires to make a direct choice, he can do so notwithstanding the law. he has only to choose as elector a known partisan of the candidate he prefers, or some one who will pledge himself to vote for that candidate. and this is so much the natural working of election by two stages, that, except in a condition of complete political indifference, it can scarcely be expected to act otherwise. it is in this way that the election of the president of the united states practically operates. nominally, the election is indirect; the population at large does not vote for the president; it votes for electors who choose the president. but the electors are always chosen under an express engagement to vote for a particular candidate; nor does a citizen ever vote for an elector because of any preference for the man; he votes for the breckinridge ticket or the lincoln ticket. it must be remembered that the electors are not chosen in order that they may search the country and find the fittest person in it to be president or to be a member of parliament. there would be something to be said for the practice if this were so; but it is not so, nor ever will be, until mankind in general are of opinion, with plato, that the proper person to be intrusted with power is the person most unwilling to accept it. the electors are to make choice of one of those who have offered themselves as candidates, and those who choose the electors already know who these are. if there is any political activity in the country, all electors who care to vote at all have made up their minds which of these candidates they would like to have, and will make that the sole consideration in giving their vote. the partisans of each candidate will have their list of electors ready, all pledged to vote for that individual; and the only question practically asked of the primary elector will be, which of these lists he will support. the case in which election by two stages answers well in practice is when the electors are not chosen solely as electors, but have other important functions to discharge, which precludes their being selected solely as delegates to give a particular vote. this combination of circumstances exemplifies itself in another american institution, the senate of the united states. that assembly, the upper house, as it were, of congress, is considered to represent not the people directly, but the states as such, and to be the guardian of that portion of their sovereign rights which they have not alienated. as the internal sovereignty of each state is, by the nature of an equal federation, equally sacred whatever be the size or importance of the state, each returns to the senate the same number of members (two), whether it be little delaware or the "empire state" of new york. these members are not chosen by the population, but by the state legislatures, themselves elected by the people of each state; but as the whole ordinary business of a legislative assembly, internal legislation and the control of the executive, devolves upon these bodies, they are elected with a view to those objects more than to the other; and in naming two persons to represent the state in the federal senate they for the most part exercise their own judgment, with only that general reference to public opinion necessary in all acts of the government of a democracy. the elections thus made have proved eminently successful, and are conspicuously the best of all the elections in the united states, the senate invariably consisting of the most distinguished men among those who have made themselves sufficiently known in public life. after such an example, it can not be said that indirect popular election is never advantageous. under certain conditions it is the very best system that can be adopted. but those conditions are hardly to be obtained in practice except in a federal government like that of the united states, where the election can be intrusted to local bodies whose other functions extend to the most important concerns of the nation. the only bodies in any analogous position which exist, or are likely to exist, in this country, are the municipalities, or any other boards which have been or may be created for similar local purposes. few persons, however, would think it any improvement in our parliamentary constitution if the members for the city of london were chosen by the aldermen and common council, and those for the borough of marylebone avowedly, as they already are virtually, by the vestries of the component parishes. even if those bodies, considered merely as local boards, were far less objectionable than they are, the qualities that would fit them for the limited and peculiar duties of municipal or parochial ædileship are no guaranty of any special fitness to judge of the comparative qualifications of candidates for a seat in parliament. they probably would not fulfill this duty any better than it is fulfilled by the inhabitants voting directly; while, on the other hand, if fitness for electing members of parliament had to be taken into consideration in selecting persons for the office of vestrymen or town councillors, many of those who are fittest for that more limited duty would inevitably be excluded from it, if only by the necessity there would be of choosing persons whose sentiments in general politics agreed with those of the voters who elected them. the mere indirect political influence of town-councils has already led to a considerable perversion of municipal elections from their intended purpose, by making them a matter of party politics. if it were part of the duty of a man's book-keeper or steward to choose his physician, he would not be likely to have a better medical attendant than if he chose one for himself, while he would be restricted in his choice of a steward or book-keeper to such as might, without too great danger to his health, be intrusted with the other office. it appears, therefore, that every benefit of indirect election which is attainable at all is attainable under direct; that such of the benefits expected from it as would not be obtained under direct election will just as much fail to be obtained under indirect; while the latter has considerable disadvantages peculiar to itself. the mere fact that it is an additional and superfluous wheel in the machinery is no trifling objection. its decided inferiority as a means of cultivating public spirit and political intelligence has already been dwelt upon; and if it had any effective operation at all--that is, if the primary electors did to any extent leave to their nominees the selection of their parliamentary representative, the voter would be prevented from identifying himself with his member of parliament, and the member would feel a much less active sense of responsibility to his constituents. in addition to all this, the comparatively small number of persons in whose hands, at last, the election of a member of parliament would reside, could not but afford great additional facilities to intrigue, and to every form of corruption compatible with the station in life of the electors. the constituencies would universally be reduced, in point of conveniences for bribery, to the condition of the small boroughs at present. it would be sufficient to gain over a small number of persons to be certain of being returned. if it be said that the electors would be responsible to those who elected them, the answer is obvious, that, holding no permanent office or position in the public eye, they would risk nothing by a corrupt vote except what they would care little for, not to be appointed electors again: and the main reliance must still be on the penalties for bribery, the insufficiency of which reliance, in small constituencies, experience has made notorious to all the world. the evil would be exactly proportional to the amount of discretion left to the chosen electors. the only case in which they would probably be afraid to employ their vote for the promotion of their personal interest would be when they were elected under an express pledge, as mere delegates, to carry, as it were, the votes of their constituents to the hustings. the moment the double stage of election began to have any effect, it would begin to have a bad effect. and this we shall find true of the principle of indirect election however applied, except in circumstances similar to those of the election of senators in the united states. it is unnecessary, as far as england is concerned, to say more in opposition to a scheme which has no foundation in any of the national traditions. an apology may even be expected for saying so much against a political expedient which perhaps could not, in this country, muster a single adherent. but a conception so plausible at the first glance, and for which there are so many precedents in history, might perhaps, in the general chaos of political opinions, rise again to the surface, and be brought forward on occasions when it might be seductive to some minds; and it could not, therefore, even if english readers were alone to be considered, be passed altogether in silence. chapter x--of the mode of voting. the question of greatest moment in regard to modes of voting is that of secrecy or publicity, and to this we will at once address ourselves. it would be a great mistake to make the discussion turn on sentimentalities about skulking or cowardice. secrecy is justifiable in many cases, imperative in some, and it is not cowardice to seek protection against evils which are honestly avoidable. nor can it be reasonably maintained that no cases are conceivable in which secret voting is preferable to public; but i must contend that these cases, in affairs of a political character, are the exception, not the rule. the present is one of the many instances in which, as i have already had occasion to remark, the _spirit_ of an institution, the impression it makes on the mind of the citizen, is one of the most important parts of its operation. the spirit of vote by ballot--the interpretation likely to be put on it in the mind of an elector, is that the suffrage is given to him for himself--for his particular use and benefit, and not as a trust for the public. for if it is indeed a trust, if the public are entitled to his vote, are not they entitled to know his vote? this false and pernicious impression may well be made on the generality, since it has been made on most of those who of late years have been conspicuous advocates of the ballot. the doctrine was not so understood by its earlier promoters; but the effect of a doctrine on the mind is best shown, not in those who form it, but in those who are formed by it. mr. bright and his school of democrats think themselves greatly concerned in maintaining that the franchise is what they term a right, not a trust. now this one idea, taking root in the general mind, does a moral mischief outweighing all the good that the ballot could do, at the highest possible estimate of it. in whatever way we define or understand the idea of a right, no person can have a right (except in the purely legal sense) to power over others: every such power, which he is allowed to possess is morally, in the fullest force of the term, a trust. but the exercise of any political function, either as an elector or as a representative, is power over others. those who say that the suffrage is not a trust, but a right, will scarcely accept the conclusions to which their doctrine leads. if it is a right, if it belongs to the voter for his own sake, on what ground can we blame him for selling it, or using it to recommend himself to any one whom it is his interest to please? a person is not expected to consult exclusively the public benefit in the use he makes of his house, or his three per cent. stock, or any thing else to which he really has a right. the suffrage is indeed due to him, among other reasons, as a means to his own protection, but only against treatment from which he is equally bound, so far as depends on his vote, to protect every one of his fellow-citizens. his vote is not a thing in which he has an option; it has no more to do with his personal wishes than the verdict of a juryman. it is strictly a matter of duty; he is bound to give it according to his best and most conscientious opinion of the public good. whoever has any other idea of it is unfit to have the suffrage; its effect on him is to pervert, not to elevate his mind. instead of opening his heart to an exalted patriotism and the obligation of public duty, it awakens and nourishes in him the disposition to use a public function for his own interest, pleasure, or caprice; the same feelings and purposes, on a humbler scale, which actuate a despot and oppressor. now an ordinary citizen in any public position, or on whom there devolves any social function, is certain to think and feel, respecting the obligations it imposes on him, exactly what society appears to think and feel in conferring it. what seems to be expected from him by society forms a standard which he may fall below, but which he will seldom rise above. and the interpretation which he is almost sure to put upon secret voting is that he is not bound to give his vote with any reference to those who are not allowed to know how he gives it; but may bestow it simply as he feels inclined. this is the decisive reason why the argument does not hold, from the use of the ballot in clubs and private societies to its adoption in parliamentary elections. a member of a club is really, what the elector falsely believes himself to be, under no obligation to consider the wishes or interests of any one else. he declares nothing by his vote but that he is or is not willing to associate, in a manner more or less close, with a particular person. this is a matter on which, by universal admission, his own pleasure or inclination is entitled to decide; and that he should be able so to decide it without risking a quarrel is best for every body, the rejected person included. an additional reason rendering the ballot unobjectionable in these cases is that it does not necessarily or naturally lead to lying. the persons concerned are of the same class or rank, and it would be considered improper in one of them to press another with questions as to how he had voted. it is far otherwise in parliamentary elections, and is likely to remain so as long as the social relations exist which produce the demand for the ballot--as long as one person is sufficiently the superior of another to think himself entitled to dictate his vote. and while this is the case, silence or an evasive answer is certain to be construed as proof that the vote given has not been that which was desired. in any political election, even by universal suffrage (and still more obviously in the case of a restricted suffrage), the voter is under an absolute moral obligation to consider the interest of the public, not his private advantage, and give his vote, to the best of his judgment, exactly as he would be bound to do if he were the sole voter, and the election depended upon him alone. this being admitted, it is at least a _primâ facie_ consequence that the duty of voting, like any other public duty, should be performed under the eye and criticism of the public; every one of whom has not only an interest in its performance, but a good title to consider himself wronged if it is performed otherwise than honestly and carefully. undoubtedly neither this nor any other maxim of political morality is absolutely inviolable; it may be overruled by still more cogent considerations. but its weight is such that the cases which admit of a departure from it must be of a strikingly exceptional character. it may unquestionably be the fact, that if we attempt, by publicity, to make the voter responsible to the public for his vote, he will practically be made responsible for it to some powerful individual, whose interest is more opposed to the general interest of the community than that of the voter himself would be, if, by the shield of secrecy, he were released from responsibility altogether. when this is the condition, in a high degree, of a large proportion of the voters, the ballot may be the smaller evil. when the voters are slaves, any thing may be tolerated which enables them to throw off the yoke. the strongest case for the ballot is when the mischievous power of the few over the many is increasing. in the decline of the roman republic, the reasons for the ballot were irresistible. the oligarchy was yearly becoming richer and more tyrannical, the people poorer and more dependent, and it was necessary to erect stronger and stronger barriers against such abuse of the franchise as rendered it but an instrument the more in the hands of unprincipled persons of consequence. as little can it be doubted that the ballot, so far as it existed, had a beneficial operation in the athenian constitution. even in the least unstable of the grecian commonwealths, freedom might be for the time destroyed by a single unfairly obtained popular vote; and though the athenian voter was not sufficiently dependent to be habitually coerced, he might have been bribed or intimidated by the lawless outrages of some knot of individuals, such as were not uncommon even at athens among the youth of rank and fortune. the ballot was in these cases a valuable instrument of order, and conduced to the eunomia by which athens was distinguished among the ancient commonwealths. but in the more advanced states of modern europe, and especially in this country, the power of coercing voters has declined and is declining; and bad voting is now less to be apprehended from the influences to which the voter is subject at the hands of others, than from the sinister interests and discreditable feelings which belong to himself, either individually or as a member of a class. to secure him against the first, at the cost of removing all restraint from the last, would be to exchange a smaller and a diminishing evil for a greater and increasing one. on this topic, and on the question generally as applicable to england at the present date, i have, in a pamphlet on parliamentary reform, expressed myself in terms which, as i do not feel that i can improve upon, i will venture here to transcribe. "thirty years ago it was still true that in the election of members of parliament the main evil to be guarded against was that which the ballot would exclude--coercion by landlords, employers, and customers. at present, i conceive, a much greater source of evil is the selfishness, or the selfish partialities of the voter himself. a base and mischievous vote is now, i am convinced, much oftener given from the voter's personal interest, or class interest, or some mean feeling in his own mind, than from any fear of consequences at the hands of others; and to these influences the ballot would enable him to yield himself up, free from all sense of shame or responsibility. "in times not long gone by, the higher and richer classes were in complete possession of the government. their power was the master grievance of the country. the habit of voting at the bidding of an employer or of a landlord was so firmly established that hardly any thing was capable of shaking it but a strong popular enthusiasm, seldom known to exist but in a good cause. a vote given in opposition to those influences was therefore, in general, an honest, a public-spirited vote; but in any case, and by whatever motive dictated, it was almost sure to be a good vote, for it was a vote against the monster evil, the overruling influence of oligarchy. could the voter at that time have been enabled, with safety to himself, to exercise his privilege freely, even though neither honestly nor intelligently, it would have been a great gain to reform, for it would have broken the yoke of the then ruling power in the country--the power which had created and which maintained all that was bad in the institutions and the administration of the state--the power of landlords and boroughmongers. "the ballot was not adopted; but the progress of circumstances has done and is doing more and more, in this respect, the work of the ballot. both the political and the social state of the country, as they affect this question, have greatly changed, and are changing every day. the higher classes are not now masters of the country. a person must be blind to all the signs of the times who could think that the middle classes are as subservient to the higher, or the working classes as dependent on the higher and middle, as they were a quarter of a century ago. the events of that quarter of a century have not only taught each class to know its own collective strength, but have put the individuals of a lower class in a condition to show a much bolder front to those of a higher. in a majority of cases, the vote of the electors, whether in opposition to or in accordance with the wishes of their superiors, is not now the effect of coercion, which there are no longer the same means of applying, but the expression of their own personal or political partialities. the very vices of the present electoral system are a proof of this. the growth of bribery, so loudly complained of, and the spread of the contagion to places formerly free from it, are evidence that the local influences are no longer paramount; that the electors now vote to please themselves, and not other people. there is, no doubt, in counties and in the smaller boroughs, a large amount of servile dependence still remaining; but the temper of the times is adverse to it, and the force of events is constantly tending to diminish it. a good tenant can now feel that he is as valuable to his landlord as his landlord is to him; a prosperous tradesman can afford to feel independent of any particular customer. at every election the votes are more and more the voter's own. it is their minds, far more than their personal circumstances, that now require to be emancipated. they are no longer passive instruments of other men's will--mere organs for putting power into the hands of a controlling oligarchy. the electors themselves are becoming the oligarchy. "exactly in proportion as the vote of the elector is determined by his own will, and not by that of somebody who is his master, his position is similar to that of a member of parliament, and publicity is indispensable. so long as any portion of the community are unrepresented, the argument of the chartists against ballot in conjunction with a restricted suffrage is unassailable. the present electors, and the bulk of those whom any probable reform bill would add to the number, are the middle class, and have as much a class interest, distinct from the working classes, as landlords or great manufacturers. were the suffrage extended to all skilled laborers, even these would, or might, still have a class interest distinct from the unskilled. suppose it extended to all men--suppose that what was formerly called by the misapplied name of universal suffrage, and now by the silly title of manhood suffrage, became the law; the voters would still have a class interest as distinguished from women. suppose that there were a question before the legislature specially affecting women--as whether women should be allowed to graduate at universities; whether the mild penalties inflicted on ruffians who beat their wives daily almost to death's door should be exchanged for something more effectual; or suppose that any one should propose in the british parliament what one state after another in america is enacting, not by a mere law, but by a provision of their revised constitutions; that married women should have a right to their own property--are not a man's wife and daughters entitled to know whether he votes for or against a candidate who will support these propositions? "it will of course be objected that these arguments' derive all their weight from the supposition of an unjust state of the suffrage: that if the opinion of the non-electors is likely to make the elector vote more honestly or more beneficially than he would vote if left to himself, they are more fit to be electors than he is, and ought to have the franchise; that whoever is fit to influence electors is fit to be an elector; that those to whom voters ought to be responsible should be themselves voters, and, being such, should have the safeguard of the ballot, to shield them from the undue influence of powerful individuals or classes to whom they ought not to be responsible. "this argument is specious, and i once thought it conclusive. it now appears to me fallacious. all who are fit to influence electors are not, for that reason, fit to be themselves electors. this last is a much greater power than the former, and those may be ripe for the minor political function who could not as yet be safely trusted with the superior. the opinions and wishes of the poorest and rudest class of laborers may be very useful as one influence among others on the minds of the voters, as well as on those of the legislature, and yet it might be highly mischievous to give them the preponderant influence, by admitting them, in their present state of morals and intelligence, to the full exercise of the suffrage. it is precisely this indirect influence of those who have not the suffrage over those who have, which, by its progressive growth, softens the transition to every fresh extension of the franchise, and is the means by which, when the time is ripe, the extension is peacefully brought about. but there is another and a still deeper consideration, which should never be left out of the account in political speculations. the notion is itself unfounded that publicity, and the sense of being answerable to the public, are of no use unless the public are qualified to form a sound judgment. it is a very superficial view of the utility of public opinion to suppose that it does good only when it succeeds in enforcing a servile conformity to itself. to be under the eyes of others--to have to defend oneself to others--is never more important than to those who act in opposition to the opinion of others, for it obliges them to have sure ground of their own. nothing has so steadying an influence as working against pressure. unless when under the temporary sway of passionate excitement, no one will do that which he expects to be greatly blamed for, unless from a preconceived and fixed purpose of his own, which is always evidence of a thoughtful and deliberate character, and, except in radically bad men, generally proceeds from sincere and strong personal convictions. even the bare fact of having to give an account of their conduct is a powerful inducement to adhere to conduct of which at least some decent account can be given. if any one thinks that the mere obligation of preserving decency is not a very considerable check on the abuse of power, he has never had his attention called to the conduct of those who do not feel under the necessity of observing that restraint. publicity is inappreciable, even when it does no more than prevent that which can by no possibility be plausibly defended--than compel deliberation, and force every one to determine, before he acts, what he shall say if called to account for his actions. "but, if not now (it may be said), at least hereafter, when all are fit to have votes, and when all men and women are admitted to vote in virtue of their fitness, _then_ there can no longer be danger of class legislation; then the electors, being the nation, can have no interest apart from the general interest: even if individuals still vote according to private or class inducements, the majority will have no such inducement; and as there will then be no non-electors to whom they ought to be responsible, the effect of the ballot, excluding none but the sinister influences, will be wholly beneficial. "even in this i do not agree. i can not think that even if the people were fit for, and had obtained universal suffrage, the ballot would be desirable. first, because it could not, in such circumstances, be supposed to be needful. let us only conceive the state of things which the hypothesis implies: a people universally educated, and every grown-up human being possessed of a vote. if, even when only a small proportion are electors, and the majority of the population almost uneducated, public opinion is already, as every one now sees that it is, the ruling power in the last resort, it is a chimera to suppose that over a community who all read, and who all have votes, any power could be exercised by landlords and rich people against their own inclination, which it would be at all difficult for them to throw off. but, though the protection of secrecy would then be needless, the control of publicity would be as needful as ever. the universal observation of mankind has been very fallacious, if the mere fact of being one of the community, and not being in a position of pronounced contrariety of interest to the public at large, is enough to insure the performance of a public duty, without either the stimulus or the restraint derived from the opinion of our fellow-creatures. a man's own particular share of the public interest, even though he may have no private interest drawing him in the opposite direction, is not, as a general rule, found sufficient to make him do his duty to the public without other external inducements. neither can it be admitted that, even if all had votes, they would give their votes as honestly in secret as in public. "the proposition that the electors, when they compose the whole of the community, can not have an interest in voting against the interest of the community, will be found, on examination, to have more sound than meaning in it. though the community, as a whole, can have (as the terms imply) no other interest than its collective interest, any or every individual in it may. a man's interest consists of whatever he takes an interest _in_. every body has as many different interests as he has feelings; likings or dislikings, either of a selfish or of a better kind. it can not be said that any of these, taken by itself, constitutes 'his interest:' he is a good man or a bad according as he prefers one class of his interests or another. a man who is a tyrant at home will be apt to sympathize with tyranny (when not exercised over himself); he will be almost certain not to sympathize with resistance to tyranny. an envious man will vote against aristides because he is called the just. a selfish man will prefer even a trifling individual benefit to his share of the advantage which his country would derive from a good law, because interests peculiar to himself are those which the habits of his mind both dispose him to dwell on and make him best able to estimate. a great number of the electors will have two sets of preferences--those on private and those on public grounds. the last are the only ones which the elector would like to avow. the best side of their character is that which people are anxious to show, even to those who are no better than themselves. people will give dishonest or mean votes from lucre, from malice, from pique, from personal rivalry, even from the interests or prejudices of class or sect, more readily in secret than in public. and cases exist--they may come to be more frequent--in which almost the only restraint upon a majority of knaves consists in their involuntary respect for the opinion of an honest minority. in such a case as that of the repudiating states of north america, is there not some check to the unprincipled voter in the shame of looking an honest man in the face? since all this good would be sacrificed by the ballot, even in the circumstances most favorable to it, a much stronger case is requisite than can now be made out for its necessity (and the case is continually becoming still weaker) to make its adoption desirable." [ ] on the other debateable points connected with the mode of voting, it is not necessary to expend so many words. the system of personal representation, as organized by mr. hare, renders necessary the employment of voting papers. but it appears to me indispensable that the signature of the elector should be affixed to the paper at a public polling-place, or if there be no such place conveniently accessible, at some office open to all the world, and in the presence of a responsible public officer. the proposal which has been thrown out of allowing the voting papers to be filled up at the voter's own residence, and sent by the post, or called for by a public officer, i should regard as fatal. the act would be done in the absence of the salutary and the presence of all the pernicious influences. the briber might, in the shelter of privacy, behold with his own eyes his bargain fulfilled, and the intimidator could see the extorted obedience rendered irrevocably on the spot; while the beneficent counter-influence of the presence of those who knew the voter's real sentiments, and the inspiring effect of the sympathy of those of his own party or opinion, would be shut out. [ ] the polling places should be so numerous as to be within easy reach of every voter, and no expenses of conveyance, at the cost of the candidate, should be tolerated under any pretext. the infirm, and they only on medical certificate, should have the right of claiming suitable carriage conveyance at the cost of the state or of the locality. hustings, poll clerks, and all the necessary machinery of elections, should be at the public charge. not only the candidate should not be required, he should not be permitted to incur any but a limited and trifling expense for his election. mr. hare thinks it desirable that a sum of £ should be required from every one who places his name on the list of candidates, to prevent persons who have no chance of success, and no real intention of attempting it, from becoming candidates in wantonness or from mere love of notoriety, and perhaps carrying off a few votes which are needed for the return of more serious aspirants. there is one expense which a candidate or his supporters can not help incurring, and which it can hardly be expected that the public should defray for every one who may choose to demand it--that of making his claims known to the electors, by advertisements, placards, and circulars. for all necessary expenses of this kind the £ proposed by mr. hare, if allowed to be drawn upon for these purposes (it might be made £ if requisite), ought to be sufficient. if the friends of the candidate choose to go to expense for committees and canvassing, there are no means of preventing them; but such expenses out of the candidates's own pocket, or any expenses whatever beyond the deposit of £ (or £ ), should be illegal and punishable. if there appeared any likelihood that opinion would refuse to connive at falsehood, a declaration on oath or honor should be required from every member, on taking his seat, that he had not expended, nor would expend, money or money's worth beyond the £ , directly or indirectly, for the purposes of his election; and if the assertion were proved to be false or the pledge to have been broken, he should be liable to the penalties of perjury. it is probable that those penalties, by showing that the legislature was in earnest, would turn the course of opinion in the same direction, and would hinder it from regarding, as has hitherto done, this most serious crime against society as a venial peccadillo. when once this effect has been produced, there need be no doubt that the declaration on oath or honor would be considered binding. [ ] "opinion tolerates a false disclaimer only when it already tolerates the thing disclaimed." this is notoriously the case with regard to electoral corruption. there has never yet been, among political men, any real and serious attempt to prevent bribery, because there has been no real desire that elections should not be costly. their costliness is an advantage to those who can afford the expense by excluding a multitude of competitors; and any thing, however noxious, is cherished as having a conservative tendency, if it limits the access to parliament to rich men. this is a rooted feeling among our legislators of both political parties, and is almost the only point on which i believe them to be really ill-intentioned. they care comparatively little who votes, as long as they feel assured that none but persons of their own class can be voted for. they know that they can rely on the fellow-feeling of one of their class with another, while the subservience of _nouveaux enrichis_ who are knocking at the door of the class is a still surer reliance; and that nothing very hostile to the class interests or feelings of the rich need be apprehended under the most democratic suffrage, as long as democratic persons can be prevented from being elected to parliament. but, even from their own point of view, this balancing of evil by evil, instead of combining good with good, is a wretched policy. the object should be to bring together the best members of both classes, under such a tenure as shall induce them to lay aside their class preferences, and pursue jointly the path traced by the common interest, instead of allowing the class feelings of the many to have full swing in the constituencies, subject to the impediment of having to act through persons imbued with the class feelings of the few. there is scarcely any mode in which political institutions are more morally mischievous--work greater evil through their spirit--than by representing political functions as a favor to be conferred, a thing which the depositary is to ask for as desiring it for himself, and even pay for as if it were designed for his pecuniary benefit. men are not fond of paying large sums for leave to perform a laborious duty. plato had a much juster view of the conditions of good government when he asserted that the persons who should be sought out to be invested with political power are those who are personally most averse to it, and that the only motive which can be relied on for inducing the fittest men to take upon themselves the toils of government is the fear of being governed by worse men. what must an elector think when he sees three or four gentlemen, none of them previously observed to be lavish of their money on projects of disinterested beneficence, vying with one another in the sums they expend to be enabled to write m.p. after their names? is it likely he will suppose that it is for _his_ interest they incur all this cost? and if he form an uncomplimentary opinion of their part in the affair, what moral obligation is he likely to feel as to his own? politicians are fond of treating it as the dream of enthusiasts that the electoral body will ever be uncorrupt: truly enough, until they are willing to become so themselves; for the electors, assuredly, will take their moral tone from the candidates. so long as the elected member, in any shape or manner, pays for his seat, all endeavours will fail to make the business of election any thing but a selfish bargain on all sides. "so long as the candidate himself, and the customs of the world, seem to regard the function of a member of parliament less as a duty to be discharged than a personal favor to be solicited, no effort will avail to implant in an ordinary voter the feeling that the election of a member of parliament is also a matter of duty, and that he is not at liberty to bestow his vote on any other consideration than that of personal fitness." the same principle which demands that no payment of money for election purposes should be either required or tolerated on the part of the person elected, dictates another conclusion, apparently of contrary tendency, but really directed to the same object. it negatives what has often been proposed as a means of rendering parliament accessible to persons of all ranks and circumstances--the payment of members of parliament. if, as in some of our colonies, there are scarcely any fit persons who can afford to attend to an unpaid occupation, the payment should be an indemnity for loss of time or money, not a salary. the greater latitude of choice which a salary would give is an illusory advantage. no remuneration which any one would think of attaching to the post would attract to it those who were seriously engaged in other lucrative professions, with a prospect of succeeding in them. the occupation of a member of parliament would therefore become an occupation in itself, carried on, like other professions, with a view chiefly to its pecuniary returns, and under the demoralizing influences of an occupation essentially precarious. it would become an object of desire to adventurers of a low class; and persons in possession, with ten or twenty times as many in expectancy, would be incessantly bidding to attract or retain the suffrages of the electors, by promising all things, honest or dishonest, possible or impossible, and rivaling each other in pandering to the meanest feelings and most ignorant prejudices of the vulgarest part of the crowd. the auction between cleon and the sausage-seller in aristophanes is a fair caricature of what would be always going on. such an institution would be a perpetual blister applied to the most peccant parts of human nature. it amounts to offering prizes for the most successful flatterer, the most adroit misleader of a body of his fellow-countrymen. under no despotism has there been such an organized system of tillage for raising a rich crop of vicious courtiership. [ ] when, by reason of pre-eminent qualifications (as may at any time happen to be the case), it is desirable that a person entirely without independent means, either derived from property or from a trade or profession, should be brought into parliament to render services which no other person accessible can render as well, there is the resource of a public subscription; he may be supported while in parliament, like andrew marvel, by the contributions of his constituents. this mode is unobjectionable for such an honor will never be paid to mere subserviency: bodies of men do not care so much for the difference between one sycophant and another as to go to the expense of his maintenance in order to be flattered by that particular individual. such a support will only be given in consideration of striking and impressive personal qualities, which, though no absolute proof of fitness to be a national representative, are some presumption of it, and, at all events, some guaranty for the possession of an independent opinion and will. chapter xi--of the duration of parliaments. after how long a term should members of parliament be subject to re-election? the principles involved are here very obvious; the difficulty lies in their application. on the one hand, the member ought not to have so long a tenure of his seat as to make him forget his responsibility, take his duties easily, conduct them with a view to his own personal advantage, or neglect those free and public conferences with his constituents which, whether he agrees or differs with them, are one of the benefits of representative government. on the other hand, he should have such a term of office to look forward to as will enable him to be judged, not by a single act, but by his course of action. it is important that he should have the greatest latitude of individual opinion and discretion compatible with the popular control essential to free government; and for this purpose it is necessary that the control should be exercised, as in any case it is best exercised, after sufficient time has been given him to show all the qualities he possesses, and to prove that there is some other way than that of a mere obedient voter and advocate of their opinions, by which he can render himself, in the eyes of his constituents, a desirable and creditable representative. it is impossible to fix, by any universal rule, the boundary between these principles. where the democratic power in the constitution is weak or over-passive, and requires stimulation; where the representative, on leaving his constituents, enters at once into a courtly or aristocratic atmosphere, whose influences all tend to deflect his course into a different direction from the popular one, to tone down any democratic feelings which he may have brought with him, and make him forget the wishes and grow cool to the interests of those who chose him, the obligation of a frequent return to them for a renewal of his commission is indispensable to keeping his temper and character up to the right mark. even three years, in such circumstances, are almost too long a period, and any longer term is absolutely inadmissible. where, on the contrary, democracy is the ascendant power, and still tends to increase, requiring rather to be moderated in its exercise than encouraged to any abnormal activity; where unbounded publicity, and an ever-present newspaper press give the representative assurance that his every act will be immediately known, discussed, and judged by his constituents, and that he is always either gaining or losing ground in the estimation, while, by the same means, the influence of their sentiments, and all other democratic influences, are kept constantly alive and active in his own mind, less than five years would hardly be a sufficient period to prevent timid subserviency. the change which has taken place in english politics as to all these features explains why annual parliaments, which forty years ago stood prominently in front of the creed of the more advanced reformers, are so little cared for and so seldom heard of at present. it deserves consideration that, whether the term is short or long, during the last year of it the members are in position in which they would always be if parliaments were annual; so that, if the term were very brief, there would virtually be annual parliaments during a great proportion of all time. as things now are, the period of seven years, though of unnecessary length, is hardly worth altering for any benefit likely to be produced, especially since the possibility, always impending, of an earlier dissolution keeps the motives for standing well with constituents always before the member's eyes. whatever may be the term most eligible for the duration of the mandate, it might seem natural that the individual member should vacate his seat at the expiration of that term from the day of his election, and that there should be no general renewal of the whole house. a great deal might be said for this system if there were any practical object in recommending it. but it is condemned by much stronger reasons than can be alleged in its support. one is, that there would be no means of promptly getting rid of a majority which had pursued a course offensive to the nation. the certainty of a general election after a limited, which would often be a nearly expired period, and the possibility of it at any time when the minister either desires it for his own sake, or thinks that it would make him popular with the country, tend to prevent that wide divergence between the feelings of the assembly and those of the constituency, which might subsist indefinitely if the majority of the house had always several years of their term still to run--if it received new infusions drop by drop, which would be more likely to assume than to modify the qualities of the mass they were joined to. it is as essential that the general sense of the house should accord in the main with that of the nation as is that distinguished individuals should be able, without forfeiting their seats, to give free utterance to the most unpopular sentiments. there is another reason, of much weight, against the gradual and partial renewal of a representative assembly. it is useful that there should be a periodical general muster of opposing forces to gauge the state of the national mind, and ascertain, beyond dispute, the relative strength of different parties and opinions. this is not done conclusively by any partial renewal, even where, as in some of the french constitutions, a large fraction--a fifth or a third--go out at once. the reasons for allowing to the executive the power of dissolution will be considered in a subsequent chapter, relating to the constitution and functions of the executive in a representative government. chapter xii--ought pledges to be required from members of parliament? should a member of the legislature be bound by the instructions of his constituents? should he be the organ of their sentiments, or of his own? their ambassador to a congress, or their professional agent, empowered not only to act for them, but to judge for them what ought to be done? these two theories of the duty of a legislator in a representative government have each its supporters, and each is the recognized doctrine of some representative governments. in the dutch united provinces, the members of the states-general were mere delegates; and to such a length was the doctrine carried, that when any important question arose which had not been provided for in their instructions, they had to refer back to their constituents, exactly as an ambassador does to the government from which he is accredited. in this and most other countries which possess representative constitutions, law and custom warrant a member of parliament in voting according to his opinion of right, however different from that of his constituents; but there is a floating notion of the opposite kind, which has considerable practical operation on many minds, even of members of parliament, and often makes them, independently of desire for popularity or concern for their re-election, feel bound in conscience to let their conduct on questions on which their constituents have a decided opinion be the expression of that opinion rather than of their own. abstractedly from positive law, and from the historical traditions of any particular people, which of these notions of the duty of a representative is the true one? unlike the questions which we have hitherto treated, this is not a question of constitutional legislation, but of what may more properly be called constitutional morality--the ethics of representative government. it does not so much concern institutions as the temper of mind which the electors ought to bring to the discharge of their functions, the ideas which should prevail as to the moral duties of an elector; for, let the system of representation be what it may, it will be converted into one of mere delegation if the electors so choose. as long as they are free not to vote, and free to vote as they like, they can not be prevented from making their vote depend on any condition they think fit to annex to it. by refusing to elect any one who will not pledge himself to all their opinions, and even, if they please, to consult with them before voting on any important subject not foreseen, they can reduce their representative to their mere mouthpiece, or compel him in honor, when no longer willing to act in that capacity, to resign his seat. and since they have the power of doing this, the theory of the constitution ought to suppose that they will wish to do it, since the very principle of constitutional government requires it to be assumed that political power will be abused to promote the particular purposes of the holder; not because it always is so, but because such is the natural tendency of things, to guard against which is the especial use of free institutions. however wrong, therefore, or however foolish, we may think it in the electors to convert their representative into a delegate, that stretch of the electoral privilege being a natural and not improbable one, the same precautions ought to be taken as if it were certain. we may hope that the electors will not act on this notion of the use of the suffrage; but a representative government needs to be so framed that even if they do, they shall not be able to effect what ought not to be in the power of any body of persons--class legislation for their own benefit. when it is said that the question is only one of political morality, this does not extenuate its importance. questions of constitutional morality are of no less practical moment than those relating to the constitution itself. the very existence of some governments, and all that renders others endurable, rests on the practical observance of doctrines of constitutional morality; traditional notions in the minds of the several constituted authorities, which modify the use that might otherwise be made of their powers. in unbalanced governments--pure monarchy, pure aristocracy, pure democracy--such maxims are the only barrier which restrains the government from the utmost excesses in the direction of its characteristic tendency. in imperfectly balanced governments, where some attempt is made to set constitutional limits to the impulses of the strongest power, but where that power is strong enough to overstep them with at least temporary impunity, it is only by doctrines of constitutional morality, recognized and sustained by opinion, that any regard at all is preserved for the checks and limitations of the constitution. in well-balanced governments, in which the supreme power is divided, and each sharer is protected against the usurpations of the others in the only manner possible, namely, by being armed for defense with weapons as strong as the others can wield for attack, the government can only be carried on by forbearance on all sides to exercise those extreme powers, unless provoked by conduct equally extreme on the part of some other sharer of power; and in this case we may truly say that only by the regard paid to maxims of constitutional morality is the constitution kept in existence. the question of pledges is not one of those which vitally concern the existence of representative governments, but it is very material to their beneficial operation. the laws can not prescribe to the electors the principles by which they shall direct their choice, but it makes a great practical difference by what principles they think they ought to direct it; and the whole of that great question is involved in the inquiry whether they should make it a condition that the representative shall adhere to certain opinions laid down for him by his constituents. no reader of this treatise can doubt what conclusion, as to this matter, results from the general principles which it professes. we have from the first affirmed, and unvaryingly kept in view, the coequal importance of two great requisites of government--responsibility to those for whose benefit political power ought to be, and always professes to be, employed; and jointly therewith, to obtain, in the greatest measure possible, for the function of government, the benefits of superior intellect, trained by long meditation and practical discipline to that special task. if this second purpose is worth attaining, it is worth the necessary price. superior powers of mind and profound study are of no use, if they do not sometimes lead a person to different conclusions from those which are formed by ordinary powers of mind without study; and if it be an object to possess representatives in any intellectual respect superior to average electors, it must be counted upon that the representative will sometimes differ in opinion from the majority of his constituents, and that when he does, his opinion will be the oftenest right of the two. it follows that the electors will not do wisely if they insist on absolute conformity to their opinions as the condition of his retaining his seat. the principle is thus far obvious; but there are real difficulties in its application, and we will begin by stating them in their greatest force. if it is important that the electors should choose a representative more highly instructed than themselves, it is no less necessary that this wiser man should be responsible to them; in other words, they are the judges of the manner in which he fulfils his trust; and how are they to judge, except by the standard of their own opinions? how are they even to select him in the first instance but by the same standard? it will not do to choose by mere brilliancy--by superiority of showy talent. the tests by which an ordinary man can judge beforehand of mere ability are very imperfect; such as they are, they have almost exclusive reference to the arts of expression, and little or none to the worth of what is expressed. the latter can not be inferred from the former; and if the electors are to put their own opinions in abeyance, what criterion remains to them of the ability to govern well? neither, if they could ascertain, even infallibly, the ablest man, ought they to allow him altogether to judge for them, without any reference to their own opinions. the ablest candidate may be a tory, and the electors liberals; or a liberal, and they may be tories. the political questions of the day may be church questions, and he may be a high-churchman or a rationalist, while they may be dissenters or evangelicals, and _vice versâ_. his abilities, in these cases, might only enable him to go greater lengths, and act with greater effect, in what they may conscientiously believe to be a wrong course; and they may be bound, by their sincere convictions, to think it more important that their representative should be kept, on these points, to what they deem the dictate of duty, than that they should be represented by a person of more than average abilities. they may also have to consider, not solely how they can be most ably represented, but how their particular moral position and mental point of view shall be represented at all. the influence of every mode of thinking which is shared by numbers ought to be felt in the legislature; and the constitution being supposed to have made due provision that other and conflicting modes of thinking shall be represented likewise, to secure the proper representation for their own mode may be the most important matter which the electors on the particular occasion have to attend to. in some cases, too, it may be necessary that the representative should have his hands tied to keep him true to their interest, or rather to the public interest as they conceive it. this would not be needful under a political system which assured them an indefinite choice of honest and unprejudiced candidates; but under the existing system, in which the electors are almost always obliged, by the expenses of election and the general circumstances of society, to select their representative from persons of a station in life widely different from theirs, and having a different class interest, who will affirm that they ought to abandon themselves to his discretion? can we blame an elector of the poorer classes, who has only the choice among two or three rich men, for requiring from the one he votes for a pledge to those measures which he considers as a test of emancipation from the class interests of the rich? it will, moreover, always happens to some members of the electoral body to be obliged to accept the representative selected by a majority of their own side. but, though a candidate of their own choosing would have no chance, their votes may be necessary to the success of the one chosen for them, and their only means of exerting their share of influence on his subsequent conduct may be to make their support of him dependent on his pledging himself to certain conditions. these considerations and counter-considerations are so intimately interwoven with one another; it is so important that the electors should choose as their representatives wiser men than themselves, and should consent to be governed according to that superior wisdom, while it is impossible that conformity to their own opinions, when they have opinions, should not enter largely into their judgment as to who possesses the wisdom, and how far its presumed possessor has verified the presumption by his conduct, that it seems quite impracticable to lay down for the elector any positive rule of duty; and the result will depend less on any exact prescription or authoritative doctrine of political morality than on the general tone of mind of the electoral body in respect to the important requisite of deference to mental superiority. individuals and peoples who are acutely sensible of the value of superior wisdom are likely to recognize it, where it exists, by other signs than thinking exactly as they do, and even in spite of considerable differences of opinion; and when they have recognized it they will be far too desirous to secure it, at any admissible cost, to be prone to impose their own opinion as a law upon persons whom they look up to as wiser than themselves. on the other hand, there is a character of mind which does not look up to any one; which thinks no other person's opinion much better than its own, or nearly so good as that of a hundred or a thousand persons like itself. where this is the turn of mind of the electors, they will elect no one who is not, or at least who does not profess to be, the image of their own sentiments, and will continue him no longer than while he reflects those sentiments in his conduct; and all aspirants to political honors will endeavour, as plato says in the gorgias, to fashion themselves after the model of the demos, and make themselves as like to it as possible. it can not be denied that a complete democracy has a strong tendency to cast the sentiments of the electors in this mould. democracy is not favorable to the reverential spirit. that it destroys reverence for mere social position must be counted among the good, not the bad part of its influences, though by doing this it closes the principal _school_ of reverence (as to merely human relations) which exists in society. but also democracy, in its very essence, insists so much more forcibly on the things in which all are entitled to be considered equally than on those in which one person is entitled to more consideration than another, that respect for even personal superiority is likely to be below the mark. it is for this, among other reasons, i hold it of so much importance that the institutions of the country should stamp the opinions of persons of a more educated class as entitled to greater weight than those of the less educated; and i should still contend for assigning plurality of votes to authenticated superiority of education were it only to give the tone to public feeling, irrespective of any direct political consequences. when there does exist in the electoral body an adequate sense of the extraordinary difference in value between one person and another, they will not lack signs by which to distinguish the persons whose worth for their purposes is the greatest. actual public services will naturally be the foremost indication: to have filled posts of magnitude, and done important things in them, of which the wisdom has been justified by the results; to have been the author of measures which appear from their effects to have been wisely planned; to have made predictions which have been of verified by the event, seldom or never falsified by it; to have given advice, which when taken has been followed by good consequences--when neglected, by bad. there is doubtless a large portion of uncertainty in these signs of wisdom; but we are seeking for such as can be applied by persons of ordinary discernment. they will do well not to rely much on any one indication, unless corroborated by the rest, and, in their estimation of the success or merit of any practical effort, to lay great stress on the general opinion of disinterested persons conversant with the subject matter. the tests which i have spoken of are only applicable to tried men, among whom must be reckoned those who, though untried practically, have been tried speculatively; who, in public speech or in print, have discussed public affairs in a manner which proves that they have given serious study to them. such persons may, in the mere character of political thinkers, have exhibited a considerable amount of the same titles to confidence as those who have been proved in the position of practical statesmen. when it is necessary to choose persons wholly untried, the best criteria are, reputation for ability among those who personally know them, and the confidence placed and recommendations given by persons already looked up to. by tests like these, constituencies who sufficiently value mental ability, and eagerly seek for it, will generally succeed in obtaining men beyond mediocrity, and often men whom they can trust to carry on public affairs according to their unfettered judgment; to whom it would be an affront to require that they should give up that judgment at the behest of their inferiors in knowledge. if such persons, honestly sought, are not to be found, then indeed the electors are justified in taking other precautions, for they can not be expected to postpone their particular opinions, unless in order that they may be served by a person of superior knowledge to their own. they would do well, indeed, even then, to remember that when once chosen, the representative, if he devotes himself to his duty, has greater opportunities of correcting an original false judgment than fall to the lot of most of his constituents; a consideration which generally ought to prevent them (unless compelled by necessity to choose some one whose impartiality they do not fully trust) from exacting a pledge not to change his opinion, or, if he does, to resign his seat. but when an unknown person, not certified in unmistakable terms by some high authority, is elected for the first time, the elector can not be expected not to make conformity to his own sentiments the primary requisite. it is enough if he does not regard a subsequent change of those sentiments, honestly avowed, with its grounds undisguisedly stated, as a peremptory reason for withdrawing his confidence. even supposing the most tried ability and acknowledged eminence of character in the representative, the private opinions of the electors are not to be placed entirely in abeyance. deference to mental superiority is not to go the length of self-annihilation--abnegation of any personal opinion. but when the difference does not relate to the fundamentals of politics, however decided the elector may be in his own sentiments, he ought to consider that when an able man differs from him there is at least a considerable chance of his being in the wrong, and that even if otherwise, it is worth while to give up his opinion in things not absolutely essential, for the sake of the inestimable advantage of having an able man to act for him in the many matters in which he himself is not qualified to form a judgment. in such cases he often endeavours to reconcile both wishes by inducing the able man to sacrifice his own opinion on the points of difference; but for the able man to lend himself to this compromise is treason against his especial office--abdication of the peculiar duties of mental supremacy, of which it is one of the most sacred not to desert the cause which has the clamor against it, nor to deprive of his services those of his opinions which need them the most. a man of conscience and known ability should insist on full freedom to act as he in his own judgment deems best, and should not consent to serve on any other terms. but the electors are entitled to know how he means to act; what opinions, on all things which concern his public duty, he intends should guide his conduct. if some of these are unacceptable to them, it is for him to satisfy them that he nevertheless deserves to be their representative; and if they are wise, they will overlook, in favor of his general value, many and great differences between his opinions and their own. there are some differences, however, which they can not be expected to overlook. whoever feels the amount of interest in the government of his country which befits a freeman, has some convictions on national affairs which are like his life-blood; which the strength of his belief in their truth, together with the importance he attaches to them, forbid him to make a subject of compromise, or postpone to the judgment of any person, however greatly his superior. such convictions, when they exist in a people, or in any appreciable portion of one, are entitled to influence in virtue of their mere existence, and not solely in that of the probability of their being grounded in truth. a people can not be well governed in opposition to their primary notions of right, even though these may be in some points erroneous. a correct estimate of the relation which should subsist between governors and governed does not require the electors to consent to be represented by one who intends to govern them in opposition to their fundamental convictions. if they avail themselves of his capacities of useful service in other respects at a time when the points on which he is vitally at issue with them are not likely to be mooted, they are justified in dismissing him at the first moment when a question arises involving these, and on which there is not so assured a majority for what they deem right as to make the dissenting voice of that particular individual unimportant. thus (i mention names to illustrate my meaning, not for any personal application) the opinions supposed to be entertained by mr. cobden and mr. bright on resistance to foreign aggression might be overlooked during the crimean war, when there was an overwhelming national feeling on the contrary side, and might yet very properly lead to their rejection by the electors at the time of the chinese quarrel (though in itself a more doubtful question), because it was then for some time a moot point whether their view of the case might not prevail. as the general result of what precedes, we may affirm that actual pledges should not be required unless, from unfavorable social circumstances or family institutions, the electors are so narrowed in their choice as to be compelled to fix it on a person presumptively under the influence of partialities hostile to their interest: that they are entitled to a full knowledge of the political opinions and sentiments of the candidate; and not only entitled, but often bound to reject one who differs from themselves on the few articles which are the foundation of their political belief: that, in proportion to the opinion they entertain of the mental superiority of a candidate, they ought to put up with his expressing and acting on opinions different from theirs on any number of things not included in their fundamental articles of belief: that they ought to be unremitting in their search for a representative of such calibre as to be intrusted with full power of obeying the dictates of his own judgment: that they should consider it a duty which they owe to their fellow-countrymen, to do their utmost toward placing men of this quality in the legislature, and that it is of much greater importance to themselves to be represented by such a man than by one who professes agreement in a greater number of their opinions; for the benefits of his ability are certain, while the hypothesis of his being wrong and their being right on the points of difference is a very doubtful one. i have discussed this question on the assumption that the electoral system, in all that depends on positive institution, conforms to the principles laid down in the preceding chapters. even on this hypothesis, the delegation theory of representation seems to me false, and its practical operation hurtful, though the mischief would in that case be confined within certain bounds. but if the securities by which i have endeavoured to guard the representative principle are not recognized by the constitution; if provision is not made for the representation of minorities, nor any difference admitted in the numerical value of votes, according to some criterion of the amount of education possessed by the voters--in that case, no words can exaggerate the importance in principle of leaving an unfettered discretion to the representative; for it would then be the only chance, under universal suffrage, for any other opinions than those of the majority to be heard in parliament. in that falsely called democracy which is really the exclusive rule of the operative classes, all others being unrepresented and unheard, the only escape from class legislation in its narrowest, and political ignorance in its most dangerous form, would lie in such disposition as the uneducated might have to choose educated representatives, and to defer to their opinions. some willingness to do this might reasonably be expected, and every thing would depend upon cultivating it to the highest point. but, once invested with political omnipotence, if the operative classes voluntarily concurred in imposing in this or any other manner any considerable limitation upon their self-opinion and self-will, they would prove themselves wiser than any class possessed of absolute power has shown itself, or, we may venture to say, is ever likely to show itself under that corrupting influence. chapter xiii--of a second chamber. of all topics relating to the theory of representative government, none have been the subject of more discussion, especially on the continent, than what is known as the question of the two chambers. it has occupied a greater amount of the attention of thinkers than many questions of ten times its importance, and has been regarded as a sort of touchstone which distinguishes the partisans of limited from those of uncontrolled democracy. for my own part, i set little value on any check which a second chamber can apply to a democracy otherwise unchecked; and i am inclined to think that if all other constitutional questions are rightly decided, it is of comparatively little importance whether the parliament consists of two chambers or only of one. if there are two chambers, they may either be of similar or of dissimilar composition. if of similar, both will obey the same influences, and whatever has a majority in one of the houses will be likely to have it in the other. it is true that the necessity of obtaining the consent of both to the passing of any measure may at times be a material obstacle to improvement, since, assuming both the houses to be representative and equal in their numbers, a number slightly exceeding a fourth of the entire representation may prevent the passing of a bill; while, if there is but one house, a bill is secure of passing if it has a bare majority. but the case supposed is rather abstractedly possible than likely to occur in practice. it will not often happen that, of two houses similarly composed, one will be almost unanimous, and the other nearly equally divided; if a majority in one rejects a measure, there will generally have been a large minority unfavorable to it in the other; any improvement, therefore, which could be thus impeded, would in almost all cases be one which had not much more than a simple majority in the entire body, and the worst consequence that could ensue would be to delay for a short time the passing of the measure, or give rise to a fresh appeal to the electors to ascertain if the small majority in parliament corresponded to an effective one in the country. the inconvenience of delay, and the advantages of the appeal to the nation, might be regarded in this case as about equally balanced. i attach little weight to the argument oftenest urged for having two chambers--to prevent precipitancy, and compel a second deliberation; for it must be a very ill-constituted representative assembly in which the established forms of business do not require many more than two deliberations. the consideration which tells most, in my judgment, in favor of two chambers (and this i do regard as of some moment), is the evil effect produced upon the mind of any holder of power, whether an individual or an assembly, by the consciousness of having only themselves to consult. it is important that no set of persons should be able, even temporarily, to make their _sic volo_ prevail without asking any one else for his consent. a majority in a single assembly, when it has assumed a permanent character--when composed of the same persons habitually acting together, and always assured of victory in their own house--easily becomes despotic and overweening if released from the necessity of considering whether its acts will be concurred in by another constituted authority. the same reason which induced the romans to have two consuls makes it desirable there should be two chambers--that neither of them may be exposed to the corrupting influence of undivided power even for the space of a single year. one of the most indispensable requisites in the practical conduct of politics, especially in the management of free institutions, is conciliation; a readiness to compromise; a willingness to concede something to opponents, and to shape good measures so as to be as little offensive as possible to persons of opposite views; and of this salutary habit, the mutual give and take (as it has been called) between two houses is a perpetual school--useful as such even now, and its utility would probably be even more felt in a more democratic constitution of the legislature. but the houses need not both be of the same composition; they may be intended as a check on one another. one being supposed democratic, the other will naturally be constituted with a view to its being some restraint upon the democracy. but its efficacy in this respect wholly depends on the social support which it can command outside the house. an assembly which does not rest on the basis of some great power in the country is ineffectual against one which does. an aristocratic house is only powerful in an aristocratic state of society. the house of lords was once the strongest power in our constitution, and the commons only a checking body; but this was when the barons were almost the only power out of doors. i can not believe that, in a really democratic state of society, the house of lords would be of any practical value as a moderator of democracy. when the force on one side is feeble in comparison with that on the other, the way to give it effect is not to draw both out in line, and muster their strength in open field over against one another. such tactics would insure the utter defeat of the less powerful. it can only act to advantage by not holding itself apart, and compelling every one to declare himself either with or against it, but taking a position among the crowd rather than in opposition to it, and drawing to itself the elements most capable of allying themselves with it on any given point; not appearing at all as an antagonist body, to provoke a general rally against it, but working as one of the elements in a mixed mass, infusing its leaven, and often making what would be the weaker part the stronger, by the addition of its influence. the really moderating power in a democratic constitution must act in and through the democratic house. that there should be, in every polity, a centre of resistance to the predominant power in the constitution--and in a democratic constitution, therefore, a nucleus of resistance to the democracy--i have already maintained; and i regard it as a fundamental maxim of government. if any people who possess a democratic representation are, from their historical antecedents, more willing to tolerate such a centre of resistance in the form of a second chamber or house of lords than in any other shape, this constitutes a stronger reason for having it in that shape. but it does not appear to me the best shape in itself, nor by any means the most efficacious for its object. if there are two houses, one considered to represent the people, the other to represent only a class, or not to be representative at all, i can not think that, where democracy is the ruling power in society, the second house would have any real ability to resist even the aberrations of the first. it might be suffered to exist in deference to habit and association, but not as an effective check. if it exercised an independent will, it would be required to do so in the same general spirit as the other house; to be equally democratic with it, and to content itself with correcting the accidental oversights of the more popular branch of the legislature, or competing with it in popular measures. the practicability of any real check to the ascendancy of the majority depends henceforth on the distribution of strength in the most popular branch of the governing body; and i have indicated the mode in which, to the best of my judgment, a balance of forces might most advantageously be established there. i have also pointed out that, even if the numerical majority were allowed to exercise complete predominance by means of a corresponding majority in parliament, yet if minorities also are permitted to enjoy the equal right due to them on strictly democratic principles, of being represented proportionally to their numbers, this provision will insure the perpetual presence in the house, by the same popular title as its other members, of so many of the first intellects in the country, that without being in any way banded apart, or invested with any invidious prerogative, this portion of the national representation will have a personal weight much more than in proportion to its numerical strength, and will afford, in a most effective form, the moral centre of resistance which is needed. a second chamber, therefore, is not required for this purpose, and would not contribute to it, but might even, in some degree, tend to compromise it. if, however, for the other reasons already mentioned, the decision were taken that there should be such a chamber, it is desirable that it should be composed of elements which, without being open to the imputation of class interests adverse to the majority, would incline it to oppose itself to the class interests of the majority, and qualify it to raise its voice with authority against their errors and weaknesses. these conditions evidently are not found in a body constituted in the manner of our house of lords. so soon as conventional rank and individual riches no longer overawe the democracy, a house of lords becomes insignificant. of all principles on which a wisely conservative body, destined to moderate and regulate democratic ascendancy, could possibly be constructed, the best seems to be that exemplified in the roman senate, itself the most consistently prudent and sagacious body that ever administered public affairs. the deficiencies of a democratic assembly, which represents the general public, are the deficiencies of the public itself, want of special training and knowledge. the appropriate corrective is to associate with it a body of which special training and knowledge should be the characteristics. if one house represents popular feeling, the other should represent personal merit, tested and guaranteed by actual public service, and fortified by practical experience. if one is the people's chamber, the other should be the chamber of statesmen--a council composed of all living public men who have passed through important political office or employment. such a chamber would be fitted for much more than to be a merely moderating body. it would not be exclusively a check, but also an impelling force. in its hands, the power of holding the people back would be vested in those most competent, and who would then be most inclined to lead them forward in any right course. the council to whom the task would be intrusted of rectifying the people's mistakes would not represent a class believed to be opposed to their interest, but would consist of their own natural leaders in the path of progress. no mode of composition could approach to this in giving weight and efficacy to their function of moderators. it would be impossible to cry down a body always foremost in promoting improvements as a mere obstructive body, whatever amount of mischief it might obstruct. were the place vacant in england for such a senate (i need scarcely say that this is a mere hypothesis), it might be composed of some such elements as the following: all who were or had been members of the legislative commission described in a former chapter, and which i regard as an indispensable ingredient in a well constituted popular government. all who were or had been chief justices, or heads of any of the superior courts of law or equity. all who had for five years filled the office of puisne judge. all who had held for two years any cabinet office; but these should also be eligible to the house of commons, and, if elected members of it, their peerage or senatorial office should be held in suspense. the condition of time is needed to prevent persons from being named cabinet ministers merely to give them a seat in the senate; and the period of two years is suggested, that the same term which qualifies them for a pension might entitle them to a senatorship. all who had filled the office of commander-in-chief; and all who, having commanded an army or a fleet, had been thanked by parliament for military or naval successes. all governors general of india or british america, and all who had held for ten years any colonial governorships. the permanent civil service should also be represented; all should be senators who had filled, during ten years, the important offices of under-secretary to the treasury, permanent under-secretary of state, or any others equally high and responsible. the functions conferring the senatorial dignity should be limited to those of a legal, political, or military or naval character. scientific and literary eminence are too indefinite and disputable: they imply a power of selection, whereas the other qualifications speak for themselves; if the writings by which reputation has been gained are unconnected with politics, they are no evidence of the special qualities required, while, if political, they would enable successive ministries to deluge the house with party tools. the historical antecedents of england render it all but certain that, unless in the improbable case of a violent subversion of the existing constitution, any second chamber which could possibly exist would have to be built on the foundation of the house of lords. it is out of the question to think practically of abolishing that assembly, to replace it by such a senate as i have sketched or by any other; but there might not be the same insuperable difficulty in aggregating the classes or categories just spoken of to the existing body in the character of peers for life. an ulterior, and perhaps, on this supposition, a necessary step, might be, that the hereditary peerage should be present in the house by their representatives instead of personally: a practice already established in the case of the scotch and irish peers, and which the mere multiplication of the order will probably at some time or other render inevitable. an easy adaptation of mr. hare's plan would prevent the representative peers from representing exclusively the party which has the majority in the peerage. if, for example, one representative were allowed for every ten peers, any ten might be admitted to choose a representative, and the peers might be free to group themselves for that purpose as they pleased. the election might be thus conducted: all peers who were candidates for the representation of their order should be required to declare themselves such, and enter their names in a list. a day and place should be appointed at which peers desirous of voting should be present, either in person, or, in the usual parliamentary manner, by their proxies. the votes should be taken, each peer voting for only one. every candidate who had as many as ten votes should be declared elected. if any one had more, all but ten should be allowed to withdraw their votes, or ten of the number should be selected by lot. these ten would form his constituency, and the remainder of his voters would be set free to give their votes over again for some one else. this process should be repeated until (so far as possible) every peer present either personally or by proxy was represented. when a number less than ten remained over, if amounting to five they might still be allowed to agree on a representative; if fewer than five, their votes must be lost, or they might be permitted to record them in favor of somebody already elected. with this inconsiderable exception, every representative peer would represent ten members of the peerage, all of whom had not only voted for him, but selected him as the one, among all open to their choice, by whom they were most desirous to be represented. as a compensation to the peers who were not chosen representatives of their order, they should be eligible to the house of commons; a justice now refused to scotch peers, and to irish peers in their own part of the kingdom, while the representation in the house of lords of any but the most numerous party in the peerage is denied equally to both. the mode of composing a senate which has been here advocated not only seems the best in itself, but is that for which historical precedent and actual brilliant success can to the greatest extent be pleaded. it is not however the only feasible plan that might be proposed. another possible mode of forming a second chamber would be to have it elected by the first; subject to the restriction that they should not nominate any of their own members. such an assembly, emanating, like the american senate, from popular choice only once removed, would not be considered to clash with democratic institutions, and would probably acquire considerable popular influence. from the mode of its nomination, it would be peculiarly unlikely to excite the jealousy of, or to come into hostile collision with the popular house. it would, moreover (due provision being made for the representation of the minority), be almost sure to be well composed, and to comprise many of that class of highly capable men who, either from accident or for want of showy qualities, had been unwilling to seek, or unable to obtain, the suffrages of a popular constituency. the best constitution of a second chamber is that which embodies the greatest number of elements exempt from the class interests and prejudices of the majority, but having in themselves nothing offensive to democratic feeling. i repeat, however, that the main reliance for tempering the ascendancy of the majority can be placed in a second chamber of any kind. the character of a representative government is fixed by the constitution of the popular house. compared with this, all other questions relating to the form of government are insignificant. chapter xiv--of the executive in a representative government. it would be out of place in this treatise to discuss the question into what departments or branches the executive business of government may most conveniently be divided. in this respect the exigencies of different governments are different; and there is little probability that any great mistake will be made in the classification of the duties when men are willing to begin at the beginning, and do not hold themselves bound by the series of accidents which, in an old government like ours, has produced the existing division of the public business. it may be sufficient to say that the classification of functionaries should correspond to that of subjects, and that there should not be several departments independent of one another, to superintend different parts of the same natural whole, as in our own military administration down to a recent period, and in a less degree even at present. where the object to be attained is single (such as that of having an efficient army), the authority commissioned to attend to it should be single likewise. the entire aggregate of means provided for one end should be under one and the same control and responsibility. if they are divided among independent authorities, the means with each of those authorities become ends, and it is the business of nobody except the head of the government, who has probably no departmental experience, to take care of the real end. the different classes of means are not combined and adapted to one another under the guidance of any leading idea; and while every department pushes forward its own requirements, regardless of those of the rest, the purpose of the work is perpetually sacrificed to the work itself. as a general rule, every executive function, whether superior or subordinate, should be the appointed duty of some given individual. it should be apparent to all the world who did every thing, and through whose default any thing was left undone. responsibility is null when nobody knows who is responsible; nor, even when real, can it be divided without being weakened. to maintain it at its highest, there must be one person who receives the whole praise of what is well done, the whole blame of what is ill. there are, however, two modes of sharing responsibility; by one it is only enfeebled, by the other absolutely destroyed. it is enfeebled when the concurrence of more than one functionary is required to the same act. each one among them has still a real responsibility; if a wrong has been done, none of them can say he did not do it; he is as much a participant as an accomplice is in an offense: if there has been legal criminality, they may all be punished legally, and their punishment needs not be less severe than if there had been only one person concerned. but it is not so with the penalties any more than with the rewards of opinion; these are always diminished by being shared. where there has been no definite legal offense, no corruption or malversation, only an error or an imprudence, or what may pass for such, every participator has an excuse to himself and to the world in the fact that other persons are jointly involved with him. there is hardly any thing, even to pecuniary dishonesty, for which men will not feel themselves almost absolved, if those whose duty it was to resist and remonstrate have failed to do it, still more if they have given a formal assent. in this case, however, though responsibility is weakened, there still is responsibility: every one of those implicated has in his individual capacity assented to, and joined in the act. things are much worse when the act itself is only that of a majority--a board deliberating with closed doors, nobody knowing, or, except in some extreme case, being ever likely to know, whether an individual member voted for the act or against it. responsibility in this case is a mere name. "boards," it is happily said by bentham, "are screens." what "the board" does is the act of nobody, and nobody can be made to answer for it. the board suffers, even in reputation, only in its collective character; and no individual member feels this further than his disposition leads him to identify his own estimation with that of the body--a feeling often very strong when the body is a permanent one, and he is wedded to it for better for worse; but the fluctuations of a modern official career give no time for the formation of such an _esprit de corps_, which, if it exists at all, exists only in the obscure ranks of the permanent subordinates. boards, therefore, are not a fit instrument for executive business, and are only admissible in it when, for other reasons, to give full discretionary power to a single minister would be worse. on the other hand, it is also a maxim of experience that in the multitude of councillors there is wisdom, and that a man seldom judges right, even in his own concerns, still less in those of the public, when he makes habitual use of no knowledge but his own, or that of some single adviser. there is no necessary incompatibility between this principle and the other. it is easy to give the effective power and the full responsibility to one, providing him when necessary with advisers, each of whom is responsible only for the opinion he gives. in general, the head of a department of the executive government is a mere politician. he may be a good politician, and a man of merit; and, unless this is usually the case, the government is bad. but his general capacity, and the knowledge he ought to possess of the general interests of the country, will not, unless by occasional accident, be accompanied by adequate, and what may be called professional knowledge of the department over which he is called to preside. professional advisers must therefore be provided for him. wherever mere experience and attainments are sufficient--wherever the qualities required in a professional adviser may possibly be united in a single well-selected individual (as in the case, for example, of a law officer), one such person for general purposes, and a staff of clerks to supply knowledge of details, meet the demands of the case. but, more frequently, it is not sufficient that the minister should consult some one competent person, and, when himself not conversant with the subject, act implicitly on that person's advice. it is often necessary that he should, not only occasionally, but habitually, listen to a variety of opinions, and inform his judgment by the discussions among a body of advisers. this, for example, is emphatically necessary in military and naval affairs. the military and naval ministers, therefore, and probably several others, should be provided with a council, composed, at least in those two departments, of able and experienced professional men. as a means of obtaining the best men for the purpose under every change of administration, they ought to be permanent; by which i mean that they ought not, like the lords of the admiralty, to be expected to resign with the ministry by whom they were appointed; but it is a good rule that all who hold high appointments to which they have risen by selection, and not by the ordinary course of promotion, should retain their office only for a fixed term, unless reappointed, as is now the rule with staff appointments in the british army. this rule renders appointments somewhat less likely to be jobbed, not being a provision for life, and the same time affords a means, without affront to any one, of getting rid of those who are least worth keeping, and bringing in highly qualified persons of younger standing, for whom there might never be room if death vacancies, or voluntary resignations were waited for. the councils should be consultative merely, in this sense, that the ultimate decision should rest undividedly with the minister himself; but neither ought they to be looked upon, or to look upon themselves as ciphers, or as capable of being reduced to such at his pleasure. the advisers attached to a powerful and perhaps self-willed man ought to be placed under conditions which make it impossible for them, without discredit, not to express an opinion, and impossible for him not to listen to and consider their recommendations, whether he adopts them or not. the relation which ought to exist between a chief and this description of advisers is very accurately hit by the constitution of the council of the governor general and those of the different presidencies in india. these councils are composed of persons who have professional knowledge of indian affairs, which the governor general and governors usually lack, and which it would not be desirable to require of them. as a rule, every member of council is expected to give an opinion, which is of course very often a simple acquiescence; but if there is a difference of sentiment, it is at the option of every member, and is the invariable practice, to record the reasons of his opinion, the governor general, or governor, doing the same. in ordinary cases the decision is according to the sense of the majority; the council, therefore, has a substantial part in the government; but if the governor general, or governor, thinks fit, he may set aside even their unanimous opinion, recording his reasons. the result is, that the chief is individually and effectively responsible for every act of the government. the members of council have only the responsibility of advisers; but it is always known, from documents capable of being produced, and which, if called for by parliament or public opinion always are produced, what each has advised, and what reasons he gave for his advice; while, from their dignified position, and ostensible participation in all acts of government, they have nearly as strong motives to apply themselves to the public business, and to form and express a well-considered opinion on every part of it, as if the whole responsibility rested with themselves. this mode of conducting the highest class of administrative business is one of the most successful instances of the adaptation of means to ends which political history, not hitherto very prolific in works of skill and contrivance, has yet to show. it is one of the acquisitions with which the art of politics has been enriched by the experience of the east india company's rule; and, like most of the other wise contrivances by which india has been preserved to this country, and an amount of good government produced which is truly wonderful considering the circumstances and the materials, it is probably destined to perish in the general holocaust which the traditions of indian government seem fated to undergo since they have been placed at the mercy of public ignorance and the presumptuous vanity of political men. already an outcry is raised for abolishing the councils as a superfluous and expensive clog on the wheels of government; while the clamor has long been urgent, and is daily obtaining more countenance in the highest quarters, for the abrogation of the professional civil service, which breeds the men that compose the councils, and the existence of which is the sole guaranty for their being of any value. a most important principle of good government in a popular constitution is that no executive functionaries should be appointed by popular election, neither by the votes of the people themselves, nor by those of their representatives. the entire business of government is skilled employment; the qualifications for the discharge of it are of that special and professional kind which can not be properly judged of except by persons who have themselves some share of those qualifications, or some practical experience of them. the business of finding the fittest persons to fill public employments--not merely selecting the best who offer, but looking out for the absolutely best, and taking note of all fit persons who are met with, that they may be found when wanted--is very laborious, and requires a delicate as well as highly conscientious discernment; and as there is no public duty which is in general so badly performed, so there is none for which it is of greater importance to enforce the utmost practicable amount of personal responsibility, by imposing it as a special obligation on high functionaries in the several departments. all subordinate public officers who are not appointed by some mode of public competition should be selected on the direct responsibility of the minister under whom they serve. the ministers, all but the chief, will naturally be selected by the chief; and the chief himself, though really designated by parliament, should be, in a regal government, officially appointed by the crown. the functionary who appoints should be the sole person empowered to remove any subordinate officer who is liable to removal, which the far greater number ought not to be, except for personal misconduct, since it would be vain to expect that the body of persons by whom the whole detail of the public business is transacted, and whose qualifications are generally of much more importance to the public than those of the minister himself, will devote themselves to their profession, and acquire the knowledge and skill on which the minister must often place entire dependence, if they are liable at any moment to be turned adrift for no fault, that the minister may gratify himself, or promote his political interest, by appointing somebody else. to the principle which condemns the appointment of executive officers by popular suffrage, ought the chief of the executive, in a republican government, to be an exception? is it a good rule which, in the american constitution, provides for the election of the president once in every four years by the entire people? the question is not free from difficulty. there is unquestionably some advantage, in a country like america, where no apprehension needs be entertained of a _coup d'état_, in making the chief minister constitutionally independent of the legislative body, and rendering the two great branches of the government, while equally popular both in their origin and in their responsibility, an effective check on one another. the plan is in accordance with that sedulous avoidance of the concentration of great masses of power in the same hands, which is a marked characteristic of the american federal constitution. but the advantage, in this instance, is purchased at a price above all reasonable estimates of its value. it seems far better that the chief magistrate in a republic should be appointed avowedly, as the chief minister in a constitutional monarchy is virtually, by the representative body. in the first place, he is certain, when thus appointed, to be a more eminent man. the party which has the majority in parliament would then, as a rule, appoint its own leader, who is always one of the foremost, and often the very foremost person in political life; while the president of the united states, since the last survivor of the founders of the republic disappeared from the scene, is almost always either an obscure man, or one who has gained any reputation he may possess in some other field than politics. and this, as i have before observed, is no accident, but the natural effect of the situation. the eminent men of a party, in an election extending to the whole country, are never its most available candidates. all eminent men have made personal enemies, or, have done something, or at the lowest, professed some opinion obnoxious to some local or other considerable division of the community, and likely to tell with fatal effect upon the number of votes; whereas a man without antecedents, of whom nothing is known but that he professes the creed of the party, is readily voted for by its entire strength. another important consideration is the great mischief of unintermitted electioneering. when the highest dignity in the state is to be conferred by popular election once in every few years, the whole intervening time is spent in what is virtually a canvass. president, ministers, chiefs of parties, and their followers, are all electioneerers: the whole community is kept intent on the mere personalities of politics, and every public question is discussed and decided with less reference to its merits than to its expected bearing on the presidential election. if a system had been devised to make party spirit the ruling principle of action in all public affairs, and create an inducement not only to make every question a party question, but to raise questions for the purpose of founding parties upon them, it would have been difficult to contrive any means better adapted to the purpose. i will not affirm that it would at all times and places be desirable that the head of the executive should be so completely dependent upon the votes of a representative assembly as the prime minister is in england, and is without inconvenience. if it were thought best to avoid this, he might, though appointed by parliament, hold his office for a fixed period, independent of a parliamentary vote, which would be the american system minus the popular election and its evils. there is another mode of giving the head of the administration as much independence of the legislature as is at all compatible with the essentials of free government. he never could be unduly dependent on a vote of parliament if he had, as the british prime minister practically has, the power to dissolve the house and appeal to the people; if, instead of being turned out of office by a hostile vote, he could only be reduced by it to the alternative of resignation or dissolution. the power of dissolving parliament is one which i think it desirable he should possess, even under the system by which his own tenure of office is secured to him for a fixed period. there ought not to be any possibility of that deadlock in politics which would ensue on a quarrel breaking out between a president and an assembly, neither of whom, during an interval which might amount to years, would have any legal means of ridding itself of the other. to get through such a period without a _coup d'état_ being attempted, on either side or on both, requires such a combination of the love of liberty and the habit of self-restraint as very few nations have yet shown themselves capable of; and though this extremity were avoided, to expect that the two authorities would not paralyze each other's operations is to suppose that the political life of the country will always be pervaded by a spirit of mutual forbearance and compromise, imperturbable by the passions and excitements of the keenest party struggles. such a spirit may exist, but even where it does there is imprudence in trying it too far. other reasons make it desirable that some power in the state (which can only be the executive) should have the liberty of at any time, and at discretion, calling a new parliament. when there is a real doubt which of two contending parties has the strongest following, it is important that there should exist a constitutional means of immediately testing the point and setting it at rest. no other political topic has a chance of being properly attended to while this is undecided; and such an interval is mostly an interregnum for purposes of legislative or administrative improvement, neither party having sufficient confidence in its strength to attempt things likely to provoke opposition in any quarter that has either direct or indirect influence in the pending struggle. i have not taken account of the case in which the vast power centralized in the chief magistrate, and the insufficient attachment of the mass of the people to free institutions, give him a chance of success in an attempt to subvert the constitution, and usurp sovereign power. where such peril exists, no first magistrate is admissible whom the parliament can not, by a single vote, reduce to a private station. in a state of things holding out any encouragement to that most audacious and profligate of all breaches of trust, even this entireness of constitutional dependence is but a weak protection. of all officers of government, those in whose appointment any participation of popular suffrage is the most objectionable are judicial officers. while there are no functionaries whose special and professional qualifications the popular judgment is less fitted to estimate, there are none in whose case absolute impartiality, and freedom from connection with politicians or sections of politicians, are of any thing like equal importance. some thinkers, among others mr. bentham, have been of opinion that, although it is better that judges should not be appointed by popular election, the people of their district ought to have the power, after sufficient experience, of removing them from their trust. it can not be denied that the irremovability of any public officer to whom great interests are intrusted is in itself an evil. it is far from desirable that there should be no means of getting rid of a bad or incompetent judge, unless for such misconduct as he can be made to answer for in a criminal court, and that a functionary on whom so much depends should have the feeling of being free from responsibility except to opinion and his own conscience. the question however is, whether, in the peculiar position of a judge, and supposing that all practicable securities have been taken for an honest appointment, irresponsibility, except to his own and the public conscience, has not, on the whole, less tendency to pervert his conduct than responsibility to the government or to a popular vote. experience has long decided this point in the affirmative as regards responsibility to the executive, and the case is quite equally strong when the responsibility sought to be enforced is to the suffrages of electors. among the good qualities of a popular constituency, those peculiarly incumbent upon a judge, calmness and impartiality, are not numbered. happily, in that intervention of popular suffrage which is essential to freedom they are not the qualities required. even the quality of justice, though necessary to all human beings, and therefore to all electors, is not the inducement which decides any popular election. justice and impartiality are as little wanted for electing a member of parliament as they can be in any transaction of men. the electors have not to award something which either candidate has a right to, nor to pass judgment on the general merits of the competitors, but to declare which of them has most of their personal confidence, or best represents their political convictions. a judge is bound to treat his political friend, or the person best known to him, exactly as he treats other people; but it would be a breach of duty, as well as an absurdity, if an elector did so. no argument can be grounded on the beneficial effect produced on judges, as on all other functionaries, by the moral jurisdiction of opinion; for even in this respect, that which really exercises a useful control over the proceedings of a judge, when fit for the judicial office, is not (except sometimes in political cases) the opinion of the community generally, but that of the only public by whom his conduct or qualifications can be duly estimated, the bar of his own court. i must not be understood to say that the participation of the general public in the administration of justice is of no importance; it is of the greatest; but in what manner? by the actual discharge of a part of the judicial office in the capacity of jurymen. this is one of the few cases in politics in which it is better that the people should act directly and personally than through their representatives, being almost the only case in which the errors that a person exercising authority may commit can be better borne than the consequences of making him responsible for them. if a judge could be removed from office by a popular vote, whoever was desirous of supplanting him would make capital for that purpose out of all his judicial decisions; would carry all of them, as far as he found practicable, by irregular appeal before a public opinion wholly incompetent, for want of having heard the case, or from having heard it without either the precautions or the impartiality belonging to a judicial hearing; would play upon popular passion and prejudice where they existed, and take pains to arouse them where they did not. and in this, if the case were interesting, and he took sufficient trouble, he would infallibly be successful, unless the judge or his friends descended into the arena, and made equally powerful appeals on the other side. judges would end by feeling that they risked their office upon every decision they gave in a case susceptible of general interest, and that it was less essential for them to consider what decision was just, than what would be most applauded by the public, or would least admit of insidious misrepresentation. the practice introduced by some of the new or revised state constitutions in america, of submitting judicial officers to periodical popular re-election, will be found, i apprehend, to be one of the most dangerous errors ever yet committed by democracy; and, were it not that the practical good sense which never totally deserts the people of the united states is said to be producing a reaction, likely in no long time to lead to the retraction of the error, it might with reason be regarded as the first great downward step in the degeneration of modern democratic government. with regard to that large and important body which constitutes the permanent strength of the public service, those who do not change with changes of politics, but remain to aid every minister by their experience and traditions, inform him by their knowledge of business, and conduct official details under his general control--those, in short, who form the class of professional public servants, entering their profession as others do while young, in the hope of rising progressively to its higher grades as they advance in life--it is evidently inadmissible that these should be liable to be turned out, and deprived of the whole benefit of their previous service, except for positive, proved, and serious misconduct. not, of course, such delinquency only as makes them amenable to the law, but voluntary neglect of duty, or conduct implying untrustworthiness for the purposes for which their trust is given them. since, therefore, unless in case of personal culpability, there is no way of getting rid of them except by quartering them on the public as pensioners, it is of the greatest importance that the appointments should be well made in the first instance; and it remains to be considered by what mode of appointment this purpose can best be attained. in making first appointments, little danger is to be apprehended from want of special skill and knowledge in the choosers, but much from partiality, and private or political interest. being all appointed at the commencement of manhood, not as having learned, but in order that they may learn, their profession, the only thing by which the best candidates can be discriminated is proficiency in the ordinary branches of liberal education; and this can be ascertained without difficulty, provided there be the requisite pains and the requisite impartiality in those who are appointed to inquire into it. neither the one nor the other can reasonably be expected from a minister, who must rely wholly on recommendations, and, however disinterested as to his personal wishes, never will be proof against the solicitations of persons who have the power of influencing his own election, or whose political adherence is important to the ministry to which he belongs. these considerations have introduced the practice of submitting all candidates for first appointments to a public examination, conducted by persons not engaged in politics, and of the same class and quality with the examiners for honors at the universities. this would probably be the best plan under any system; and under our parliamentary government it is the only one which affords a chance, i do not say of honest appointment, but even of abstinence from such as are manifestly and flagrantly profligate. it is also absolutely necessary that the examinations should be competitive, and the appointments given to those who are most successful. a mere pass examination never, in the long run, does more than exclude absolute dunces. when the question, in the mind of an examiner, lies between blighting the prospects of an individual and performing a duty to the public which, in the particular instance, seldom appears of first rate importance, and when he is sure to be bitterly reproached for doing the first, while in general no one will either know or care whether he has done the latter, the balance, unless he is a man of very unusual stamp, inclines to the side of good-nature. a relaxation in one instance establishes a claim to it in others, which every repetition of indulgence makes it more difficult to resist; each of these, in succession, becomes a precedent for more, until the standard of proficiency sinks gradually to something almost contemptible. examinations for degrees at the two great universities have generally been as slender in their requirements as those for honors are trying and serious. where there is no inducement to exceed a certain minimum, the minimum comes to be the maximum: it becomes the general practice not to aim at more; and as in every thing there are some who do not attain all they aim at, however low the standard may be pitched, there are always several who fall short of it. when, on the contrary, the appointments are given to those, among a great number of candidates, who most distinguish themselves, and where the successful competitors are classed in order of merit, not only each is stimulated to do his very utmost, but the influence is felt in every place of liberal education throughout the country. it becomes with every schoolmaster an object of ambition and an avenue to success to have furnished pupils who have gained a high place in these competitions, and there is hardly any other mode in which the state can do so much to raise the quality of educational institutions throughout the country. though the principle of competitive examinations for public employment is of such recent introduction in this country, and is still so imperfectly carried out, the indian service being as yet nearly the only case in which it exists in its completeness, a sensible effect has already begun to be produced on the places of middle-class education, notwithstanding the difficulties which the principle has encountered from the disgracefully low existing state of education in the country, which these very examinations have brought into strong light. so contemptible has the standard of acquirement been found to be, among the youths who obtain the nomination from the minister, which entitles them to offer themselves as candidates, that the competition of such candidates produces almost a poorer result than would be obtained from a mere pass examination; for no one would think of fixing the conditions of a pass examination so low as is actually found sufficient to enable a young man to surpass his fellow-candidates. accordingly, it is said that successive years show on the whole a decline of attainments, less effort being made, because the results of former examinations have proved that the exertions then used were greater than would have been sufficient to attain the object. partly from this decrease of effort, and partly because, even at the examinations which do not require a previous nomination, conscious ignorance reduces the number of competitors to a mere handful, it has so happened that though there have always been a few instances of great proficiency, the lower part of the list of successful candidates represents but a very moderate amount of acquirement; and we have it on the word of the commissioners that nearly all who have been unsuccessful have owed their failure to ignorance, not of the higher branches of instruction, but of its very humblest elements--spelling and arithmetic. the outcries which continue to be made against these examinations by some of the organs of opinion are often, i regret to say, as little creditable to the good faith as to the good sense of the assailants. they proceed partly by misrepresentation of the kind of ignorance which, as a matter of fact, actually leads to failure in the examinations. they quote with emphasis the most recondite questions [ ] which can be shown to have been ever asked, and make it appear as if unexceptionable answers to all these were made the _sine quâ non_ of success. yet it has been repeated to satiety that such questions are not put because it is expected of every one that he should answer them, but in order that whoever is able to do so may have the means of proving and availing himself of that portion of his knowledge. it is not as a ground of rejection, but as an additional means of success, that this opportunity is given. we are then asked whether the kind of knowledge supposed in this, that, or the other question, is calculated to be of any use to the candidate after he has attained his object. people differ greatly in opinion as to what knowledge is useful. there are persons in existence, and a late foreign secretary of state is one of them, who think english spelling a useless accomplishment in a diplomatic attaché or a clerk in a government office. about one thing the objectors seem to be unanimous, that general mental cultivation is not useful in these employments, whatever else may be so. if, however (as i presume to think), it is useful, or if any education at all is useful, it must be tested by the tests most likely to show whether the candidate possesses it or not. to ascertain whether he has been well educated, he must be interrogated in the things which he is likely to know if he has been well educated, even though not directly pertinent to the work to which he is to be appointed. will those who object to his being questioned in classics and mathematics, tell us what they would have him questioned in? there seems, however, to be equal objection to examining him in these, and to examining him in any thing _but_ these. if the commissioners--anxious to open a door of admission to those who have not gone through the routine of a grammar-school, or who make up for the smallness of their knowledge of what is there taught by greater knowledge of something else--allow marks to be gained by proficiency in any other subject of real utility, they are reproached for that too. nothing will satisfy the objectors but free admission of total ignorance. we are triumphantly told that neither clive nor wellington could have passed the test which is prescribed for an aspirant to an engineer cadetship; as if, because clive and wellington did not do what was not required of them, they could not have done it if it had been required. if it be only meant to inform us that it is possible to be a great general without these things, so it is without many other things which are very useful to great generals. alexander the great had never heard of vauban's rules, nor could julius cæsar speak french. we are next informed that book-worms, a term which seems to be held applicable to whoever has the smallest tincture of book-knowledge, may not be good at bodily exercises, or have the habits of gentlemen. this is a very common line of remark with dunces of condition; but, whatever the dunces may think, they have no monopoly of either gentlemanly habits or bodily activity. wherever these are needed, let them be inquired into and separately provided for, not to the exclusion of mental qualifications, but in addition. meanwhile, i am credibly informed that in the military academy at woolwich the competition cadets are as superior to those admitted on the old system of nomination in these respects as in all others; that they learn even their drill more quickly, as indeed might be expected, for an intelligent person learns all things sooner than a stupid one; and that in general demeanor they contrast so favorably with their predecessors, that the authorities of the institutions are impatient for the day to arrive when the last remains of the old leaven shall have disappeared from the place. if this be so, and it is easy to ascertain whether it is so, it is to be hoped we shall soon have heard for the last time that ignorance is a better qualification than knowledge for the military, and, _à fortiori_, for every other profession, or that any one good quality, however little apparently connected with liberal education, is at all likely to be promoted by going without it. though the first admission to government employment be decided by competitive examination, it would in most cases be impossible that subsequent promotion should be so decided; and it seems proper that this should take place, as it usually does at present, on a mixed system of seniority and selection. those whose duties are of a routine character should rise by seniority to the highest point to which duties merely of that description can carry them, while those to whom functions of particular trust, and requiring special capacity, are confided, should be selected from the body on the discretion of the chief of the office. and this selection will generally be made honestly by him if the original appointments take place by open competition, for under that system his establishment will generally consist of individuals to whom, but for the official connection, he would have been a stranger. if among them there be any in whom he, or his political friends and supporters, take an interest, it will be but occasionally, and only when to this advantage of connection is added, as far as the initiatory examination could test it, at least equality of real merit; and, except when there is a very strong motive to job these appointments, there is always a strong one to appoint the fittest person, being the one who gives to his chief the most useful assistance, saves him most trouble, and helps most to build up that reputation for good management of public business which necessarily and properly redound to the credit of the minister, however much the qualities to which it is immediately owing may be those of his subordinates. chapter xv--of local representative bodies. it is but a small portion of the public business of a country which can be well done or safely attempted by the central authorities; and even in our own government, the least centralized in europe, the legislative portion at least of the governing body busies itself far too much with local affairs, employing the supreme power of the state in cutting small knots which there ought to be other and better means of untying. the enormous amount of private business which takes up the time of parliament and the thoughts of its individual members, distracting them from the proper occupations of the great council of the nation, is felt by all thinkers and observers as a serious evil, and, what is worse, an increasing one. it would not be appropriate to the limited design of this treatise to discuss at large the great question, in no way peculiar to representative government, of the proper limits of governmental action. i have said elsewhere [ ] what seemed to me most essential respecting the principles by which the extent of that action ought to be determined. but after subtracting from the functions performed by most european governments those which ought not to be undertaken by public authorities at all, there still remains so great and various an aggregate of duties, that, if only on the principle of division of labor, it is indispensable to share them between central and local authorities. not solely are separate executive officers required for purely local duties (an amount of separation which exists under all governments), but the popular control over those officers can only be advantageously exerted through a separate organ. their original appointment, the function of watching and checking them, the duty of providing or the discretion of withholding the supplies necessary for their operations, should rest, not with the national parliament or the national executive, but with the people of the locality. that the people should exercise these functions directly and personally is evidently inadmissable. administration by the assembled people is a relic of barbarism opposed to the whole spirit of modern life; yet so much has the course of english institutions depended on accident, that this primitive mode of local government remained the general rule in parochial matters up to the present generation; and, having never been legally abolished, probably subsists unaltered in many rural parishes even now. there remains the plan of representative sub-parliaments for local affairs, and these must henceforth be considered as one of the fundamental institutions of a free government. they exist in england but very incompletely, and with great irregularity and want of system; in some other countries much less popularly governed, their constitution is far more rational. in england there has always been more liberty but worse organization, while in other countries there is better organization but less liberty. it is necessary, then, that, in addition to the national representation, there should be municipal and provisional representations; and the two questions which remain to be resolved are, how the local representative bodies should be constituted, and what should be the extent of their functions. in considering these questions, two points require an equal degree of our attention: how the local business itself can be best done, and how its transaction can be made most instrumental to the nourishment of public spirit and the development of intelligence. in an earlier part of this inquiry i have dwelt in strong language--hardly any language is strong enough to express the strength of my conviction--on the importance of that portion of the operation of free institutions which may be called the public education of the citizens. now of this operation the local administrative institutions are the chief instrument. except by the part they may take as jurymen in the administration of justice, the mass of the population have very little opportunity of sharing personally in the conduct of the general affairs of the community. reading newspapers, and perhaps writing to them, public meetings, and solicitations of different sorts addressed to the political authorities, are the extent of the participation of private citizens in general politics during the interval between one parliamentary election and another. though it is impossible to exaggerate the importance of these various liberties, both as securities for freedom and as means of general cultivation, the practice which they give is more in thinking than in action, and in thinking without the responsibilities of action, which with most people amounts to little more than passively receiving the thoughts of some one else. but in the case of local bodies, besides the function of electing, many citizens in turn have the chance of being elected, and many, either by selection or by rotation, fill one or other of the numerous local executive offices. in these positions they have to act for public interests, as well as to think and to speak, and the thinking can not all be done by proxy. it may be added that these local functions, not being in general sought by the higher ranks, carry down the important political education which they are the means of conferring to a much lower grade in society. the mental discipline being thus a more important feature in local concerns than in the general affairs of the state, while there are not such vital interests dependent on the quality of the administration, a greater weight may be given to the former consideration, and the latter admits much more frequently of being postponed to it than in matters of general legislation and the conduct of imperial affairs. the proper constitution of local representative bodies does not present much difficulty. the principles which apply to it do not differ in any respect from those applicable to the national representation. the same obligation exists, as in the case of the more important function, for making the bodies elective; and the same reasons operate as in that case, but with still greater force, for giving them a widely democratic basis; the dangers being less, and the advantages, in point of popular education and cultivation, in some respects even greater. as the principal duty of the local bodies consists of the imposition and expenditure of local taxation, the electoral franchise should vest in all who contribute to the local rates, to the exclusion of all who do not. i assume that there is no indirect taxation, no _octroi_ duties, or that, if there are, they are supplementary only, those on whom their burden falls being also rated to a direct assessment. the representation of minorities should be provided for in the same manner as in the national parliament, and there are the same strong reasons for plurality of votes; only there is not so decisive an objection, in the inferior as in the higher body, to making the plural voting depend (as in some of the local elections of our own country) on a mere money qualification; for the honest and frugal dispensation of money forms so much larger a part of the business of the local than of the national body, that there is more justice as well as policy in allowing a greater proportional influence to those who have a larger money interest at stake. in the most recently established of our local representative institutions, the boards of guardians, the justices of peace of the district sit _ex officio_ along with the elected members, in number limited by law to a third of the whole. in the peculiar constitution of english society, i have no doubt of the beneficial effect of this provision. it secures the presence in these bodies of a more educated class than it would perhaps be practicable to attract thither on any other terms; and while the limitation in number of the _ex officio_ members precludes them from acquiring predominance by mere numerical strength, they, as a virtual representation of another class, having sometimes a different interest from the rest, are a check upon the class interests of the farmers or petty shopkeepers who form the bulk of the elected guardians. a similar commendation can not be given to the constitution of the only provincial boards we possess, the quarter sessions, consisting of the justices of peace alone, on whom, over and above their judicial duties, some of the most important parts of the administrative business of the country depend for their performance. the mode of formation of these bodies is most anomalous, they being neither elected, nor, in any proper sense of the term, nominated, but holding their important functions, like the feudal lords to whom they succeeded, virtually by right of their acres; the appointment vested in the crown (or, speaking practically, in one of themselves, the lord lieutenant) being made use of only as a means of excluding any one who it is thought would do discredit to the body, or, now and then, one who is on the wrong side in politics. the institution is the most aristocratic in principle which now remains in england; far more so than the house of lords, for it grants public money and disposes of important public interests, not in conjunction with a popular assembly, but alone. it is clung to with proportionate tenacity by our aristocratic classes, but is obviously at variance with all the principles which are the foundation of representative government. in a county board there is not the same justification as in boards of guardians for even an admixture of _ex officio_ with elected members, since the business of a county being on a sufficiently large scale to be an object of interest and attraction to country gentlemen, they would have no more difficulty in getting themselves elected to the board than they have in being returned to parliament as county members. in regard to the proper circumscription of the constituencies which elect the local representative bodies, the principle which, when applied as an exclusive and unbending rule to parliamentary representation, is inappropriate, namely community of local interests, is here the only just and applicable one. the very object of having a local representation is in order that those who have any interest in common which they do not share with the general body of their countrymen may manage that joint interest by themselves, and the purpose is contradicted if the distribution of the local representation follows any other rule than the grouping of those joint interests. there are local interests peculiar to every town, whether great or small, and common to all its inhabitants; every town, therefore, without distinction of size, ought to have its municipal council. it is equally obvious that every town ought to have but one. the different quarters of the same town have seldom or never any material diversities of local interest; they all require to have the same things done, the same expenses incurred; and, except as to their churches, which it is probably desirable to leave under simply parochial management, the same arrangements may be made to serve for all. paving, lighting, water supply, drainage, port and market regulations, can not, without great waste and inconvenience, be different for different quarters of the same town. the subdivision of london into six or seven independent districts, each with its separate arrangements for local business (several of them without unity of administration even within themselves), prevents the possibility of consecutive or well-regulated co-operation for common objects, precludes any uniform principle for the discharge of local duties, compels the general government to take things upon itself which would be best left to local authorities if there were any whose authority extended to the entire metropolis, and answers no purpose but to keep up the fantastical trappings of that union of modern jobbing and antiquated foppery, the corporation of the city of london. another equally important principle is, that in each local circumscription there should be but one elective body for all local business, not different bodies for different parts of it. division of labor does not mean cutting up every business into minute fractions; it means the union of such operations as are fit to be performed by the same persons, and the separation of such as can be better performed by different persons. the executive duties of the locality do indeed require to be divided into departments for the same reason as those of the state--because they are of divers kinds, each requiring knowledge peculiar to itself, and needing, for its due performance, the undivided attention of a specially qualified functionary. but the reasons for subdivision which apply to the execution do not apply to the control. the business of the elective body is not to do the work, but to see that it is properly done, and that nothing necessary is left undone. this function can be fulfilled for all departments by the same superintending body, and by a collective and comprehensive far better than by a minute and microscopic view. it is as absurd in public affairs as it would be in private, that every workman should be looked after by a superintendent to himself. the government of the crown consists of many departments, and there are many ministers to conduct them, but those ministers have not a parliament apiece to keep them to their duty. the local, like the national parliament, has for its proper business to consider the interest of the locality as a whole, composed of parts all of which must be adapted to one another, and attended to in the order and ratio of their importance. there is another very weighty reason for uniting the control of all the business of a locality under one body. the greatest imperfection of popular local institutions, and the chief cause of the failure which so often attends them, is the low calibre of the men by whom they are almost always carried on. that these should be of a very miscellaneous character is, indeed, part of the usefulness of the institution; it is that circumstance chiefly which renders it a school of political capacity and general intelligence. but a school supposes teachers as well as scholars: the utility of the instruction greatly depends on its bringing inferior minds into contact with superior, a contact which in the ordinary course of life is altogether exceptional, and the want of which contributes more than any thing else to keep the generality of mankind on one level of contented ignorance. the school, moreover, is worthless, and a school of evil instead of good, if, through the want of due surveillance, and of the presence within itself of a higher order of characters, the action of the body is allowed, as it so often is, to degenerate into an equally unscrupulous and stupid pursuit of the self-interest of its members. now it is quite hopeless to induce persons of a high class, either socially or intellectually, to take a share of local administration in a corner by piecemeal, as members of a paving board or a drainage commission. the entire local business of their town is not more than a sufficient object to induce men whose tastes incline them, and whose knowledge qualifies them for national affairs, to become members of a mere local body, and devote to it the time and study which are necessary to render their presence any thing more than a screen for the jobbing of inferior persons, under the shelter of their responsibility. a mere board of works, though it comprehend the entire metropolis, is sure to be composed of the same class of persons as the vestries of the london parishes; nor is it practicable, or even desirable, that such should not form the majority; but it is important for every purpose which local bodies are designed to serve, whether it be the enlightened and honest performance of their special duties, or the cultivation of the political intelligence of the nation, that every such body should contain a portion of the very best minds of the locality, who are thus brought into perpetual contact, of the most useful kind, with minds of a lower grade, receiving from them what local or professional knowledge they have to give, and, in return, inspiring them with a portion of their own more enlarged ideas, and higher and more enlightened purposes. a mere village has no claim to a municipal representation. by a village i mean a place whose inhabitants are not markedly distinguished by occupation or social relations from those of the rural districts adjoining, and for whose local wants the arrangements made for the surrounding territory will suffice. such small places have rarely a sufficient public to furnish a tolerable municipal council: if they contain any talent or knowledge applicable to public business, it is apt to be all concentrated in some one man, who thereby becomes the dominator of the place. it is better that such places should be merged in a larger circumscription. the local representation of rural districts will naturally be determined by geographical considerations, with due regard to those sympathies of feeling by which human beings are so much aided to act in concert, and which partly follow historical boundaries, such as those of counties or provinces, and partly community of interest and occupation, as in agriculture, maritime, manufacturing, or mining districts. different kinds of local business require different areas of representation. the unions of parishes have been fixed on as the most appropriate basis for the representative bodies which superintend the relief of indigence; while, for the proper regulation of highways, or prisons, or police, a large extent, like that of an average county, is not more than sufficient. in these large districts, therefore, the maxim, that an elective body constituted in any locality should have authority over all the local concerns common to the locality, requires modification from another principle, as well as from the competing consideration of the importance of obtaining for the discharge of the local duties the highest qualifications possible. for example, if it be necessary (as i believe it to be) for the proper administration of the poor-laws that the area of rating should not be more extensive than most of the present unions, a principle which requires a board of guardians for each union, yet, as a much more highly qualified class of persons is likely to be obtainable for a county board than those who compose an average board of guardians, it may, on that ground, be expedient to reserve for the county boards some higher descriptions of local business, which might otherwise have been conveniently managed within itself by each separate union. besides the controlling council or local sub-parliament, local business has its executive department. with respect to this, the same questions arise as with respect to the executive authorities in the state, and they may, for the most part, be answered in the same manner. the principles applicable to all public trusts are in substance the same. in the first place, each executive officer should be single, and singly responsible for the whole of the duty committed to his charge. in the next place, he should be nominated, not elected. it is ridiculous that a surveyor, or a health officer, or even a collector of rates should be appointed by popular suffrage. the popular choice usually depends on interest with a few local leaders, who, as they are not supposed to make the appointment, are not responsible for it; or on an appeal to sympathy, founded on having twelve children, and having been a rate-payer in the parish for thirty years. if, in cases of this description, election by the population is a farce, appointment by the local representative body is little less objectionable. such bodies have a perpetual tendency to become joint-stock associations for carrying into effect the private jobs of their various members. appointments should be made on the individual responsibility of the chairman of the body, let him be called mayor, chairman of quarter sessions, or by whatever other title. he occupies in the locality a position analogous to that of the prime minister in the state, and under a well organized system the appointment and watching of the local officers would be the most important part of his duty; he himself being appointed by the council from its own number, subject either to annual re-election, or to removal by a vote of the body. from the constitution of the local bodies, i now pass to the equally important and more difficult subject of their proper attributions. this question divides itself into two parts: what should be their duties, and whether they should have full authority within the sphere of those duties, or should be liable to any, and what, interference on the part of the central government. it is obvious, to begin with, that all business purely local--all which concerns only a single locality--should devolve upon the local authorities. the paving, lighting, and cleansing of the streets of a town, and, in ordinary circumstances, the draining of its houses, are of little consequence to any but its inhabitants. the nation at large is interested in them in no other way than that in which it is interested in the private well-being of all its individual citizens. but among the duties classed as local, or performed by local functionaries, there are many which might with equal propriety be termed national, being the share belonging to the locality of some branch of the public administration in the efficiency of which the whole nation is alike interested: the jails, for instance, most of which in this country are under county management; the local police; the local administration of justice, much of which, especially in corporate towns, is performed by officers elected by the locality, and paid from local funds. none of these can be said to be matters of local, as distinguished from national importance. it would not be a matter personally indifferent to the rest of the country if any part of it became a nest of robbers or a focus of demoralization, owing to the maladministration of its police; or if, through the bad regulations of its jail, the punishment which the courts of justice intended to inflict on the criminals confined therein (who might have come from, or committed their offenses in, any other district) might be doubled in intensity or lowered to practical impunity. the points, moreover, which constitute good management of these things are the same every where; there is no good reason why police, or jails, or the administration of justice should be differently managed in one part of the kingdom and in another, while there is great peril that in things so important, and to which the most instructed minds available to the state are not more than adequate, the lower average of capacities which alone can be counted on for the service of the localities might commit errors of such magnitude as to be a serious blot upon the general administration of the country. security of person and property, and equal justice between individuals, are the first needs of society and the primary ends of government: if these things can be left to any responsibility below the highest, there is nothing except war and treaties which requires a general government at all. whatever are the best arrangements for securing these primary objects should be made universally obligatory, and, to secure their enforcement, should be placed under central superintendence. it is often useful, and with the institutions of our own country even necessary, from the scarcity, in the localities, of officers representing the general government, that the execution of duties imposed by the central authority should be intrusted to functionaries appointed for local purposes by the locality. but experience is daily forcing upon the public a conviction of the necessity of having at least inspectors appointed by the general government to see that the local officers do their duty. if prisons are under local management, the central government appoints inspectors of prisons, to take care that the rules laid down by parliament are observed, and to suggest others if the state of the jails shows them to be requisite, as there are inspectors of factories and inspectors of schools, to watch over the observance of the acts of parliament relating to the first, and the fulfillment of the conditions on which state assistance is granted to the latter. but if the administration of justice, police and jails included, is both so universal a concern, and so much a matter of general science, independent of local peculiarities, that it may be, and ought to be, uniformly regulated throughout the country, and its regulation enforced by more trained and skillful hands than those of purely local authorities, there is also business, such as the administration of the poor-laws, sanitary regulation, and others, which, while really interesting to the whole country, can not, consistently with the very purposes of local administration, be managed otherwise than by the localities. in regard to such duties, the question arises how far the local authorities ought to be trusted with discretionary power, free from any superintendence or control of the state. to decide this question, it is essential to consider what is the comparative position of the central and the local authorities as capacity for the work, and security against negligence or abuse. in the first place, the local representative bodies and their officers are almost certain to be of a much lower grade of intelligence and knowledge than parliament and the national executive. secondly, besides being themselves of inferior qualifications, they are watched by, and accountable to an inferior public opinion. the public under whose eyes they act, and by whom they are criticized, is both more limited in extent and generally far less enlightened than that which surrounds and admonishes the highest authorities at the capital, while the comparative smallness of the interests involved causes even that inferior public to direct its thoughts to the subject less intently and with less solicitude. far less interference is exercised by the press and by public discussion, and that which is exercised may with much more impunity be disregarded in the proceedings of local than in those of national authorities. thus far, the advantage seems wholly on the side of management by the central government; but, when we look more closely, these motives of preference are found to be balanced by others fully as substantial. if the local authorities and public are inferior to the central ones in knowledge of the principles of administration, they have the compensatory advantage of a far more direct interest in the result. a man's neighbors or his landlord may be much cleverer than himself, and not without an indirect interest in his prosperity, but, for all that, his interests will be better attended to in his own keeping than in theirs. it is further to be remembered that, even supposing the central government to administer through its own officers, its officers do not act at the centre, but in the locality; and however inferior the local public may be to the central, it is the local public alone which has any opportunity of watching them, and it is the local opinion alone which either acts directly upon their own conduct, or calls the attention of the government to the points in which they may require correction. it is but in extreme cases that the general opinion of the country is brought to bear at all upon details of local administration, and still more rarely has it the means of deciding upon them with any just appreciation of the case. now the local opinion necessarily acts far more forcibly upon purely local administrators. they, in the natural course of things, are permanent residents, not expecting to be withdrawn from the place when they cease to exercise authority in it; and their authority itself depends, by supposition, on the will of the local public. i need not dwell on the deficiencies of the central authority in detailed knowledge of local persons and things, and the too great engrossment of its time and thoughts by other concerns to admit of its acquiring the quantity and quality of local knowledge necessary even for deciding on complaints, and enforcing responsibility from so great a number of local agents. in the details of management, therefore, the local bodies will generally have the advantage, but in comprehension of the principles even of purely local management, the superiority of the central government, when rightly constituted, ought to be prodigious, not only by reason of the probably great personal superiority of the individuals composing it, and the multitude of thinkers and writers who are at all times engaged in pressing useful ideas upon their notice, but also because the knowledge and experience of any local authority is but local knowledge and experience, confined to their own part of the country and its modes of management, whereas the central government has the means of knowing all that is to be learned from the united experience of the whole kingdom, with the addition of easy access to that of foreign countries. the practical conclusion from these premises is not difficult to draw. the authority which is most conversant with principles should be supreme over principles, while that which is most competent in details should have the details left to it. the principal business of the central authority should be to give instruction, of the local authority to apply it. power may be localized, but knowledge, to be most useful, must be centralized; there must be somewhere a focus at which all its scattered rays are collected, that the broken and colored lights which exist elsewhere may find there what is necessary to complete and purify them. to every branch of local administration which affects the general interest there should be a corresponding central organ, either a minister, or some specially appointed functionary under him, even if that functionary does no more than collect information from all quarters, and bring the experience acquired in one locality to the knowledge of another where it is wanted. but there is also something more than this for the central authority to do. it ought to keep open a perpetual communication with the localities--informing itself by their experience, and them by its own; giving advice freely when asked, volunteering it when seen to be required; compelling publicity and recordation of proceedings, and enforcing obedience to every general law which the legislature has laid down on the subject of local management. that some such laws ought to be laid down few are likely to deny. the localities may be allowed to mismanage their own interests, but not to prejudice those of others, nor violate those principles of justice between one person and another of which it is the duty of the state to maintain the rigid observance. if the local majority attempts to oppress the minority, or one class another, the state is bound to interpose. for example, all local rates ought to be voted exclusively by the local representative body; but that body, though elected solely by rate-payers, may raise its revenues by imposts of such a kind, or assess them in such a manner, as to throw an unjust share of the burden on the poor, the rich, or some particular class of the population: it is the duty, therefore, of the legislature, while leaving the mere amount of the local taxes to the discretion of the local body, to lay down authoritatively the mode of taxation and rules of assessment which alone the localities shall be permitted to use. again, in the administration of public charity, the industry and morality of the whole laboring population depends, to a most serious extent, upon adherence to certain fixed principles in awarding relief. though it belongs essentially to the local functionaries to determine who, according to those principles, is entitled to be relieved, the national parliament is the proper authority to prescribe the principles themselves; and it would neglect a most important part of its duty if it did not, in a matter of such grave national concern, lay down imperative rules, and make effectual provision that those rules should not be departed from. what power of actual interference with the local administrators it may be necessary to retain, for the due enforcement of the laws, is a question of detail into which it would be useless to enter. the laws themselves will naturally define the penalties, and fix the mode of their enforcement. it may be requisite, to meet extreme cases, that the power of the central authority should extend to dissolving the local representative council or dismissing the local executive, but not to making new appointments or suspending the local institutions. where parliament has not interfered, neither ought any branch of the executive to interfere with authority; but as an adviser and critic, an enforcer of the laws, and a denouncer to parliament or the local constituencies of conduct which it deems condemnable, the functions of the executive are of the greatest possible value. some may think that, however much the central authority surpasses the local in knowledge of the principles of administration, the great object which has been so much insisted on, the social and political education of the citizens, requires that they should be left to manage these matters by their own, however imperfect lights. to this it might be answered that the education of the citizens is not the only thing to be considered; government and administration do not exist for that alone, great as its importance is. but the objection shows a very imperfect understanding of the function of popular institutions as a means of political instruction. it is but a poor education that associates ignorance with ignorance, and leaves them, if they care for knowledge, to grope their way to it without help, and to do without it if they do not. what is wanted is the means of making ignorance aware of itself, and able to profit by knowledge; accustoming minds which know only routine to act upon, and feel the value of principles; teaching them to compare different modes of action, and learn, by the use of their reason, to distinguish the best. when we desire to have a good school, we do not eliminate the teacher. the old remark, "as the schoolmaster is, so will be the school," is as true of the indirect schooling of grown people by public business as of the schooling of youth in academies and colleges. a government which attempts to do every thing is aptly compared by m. charles de rémusat to a schoolmaster who does all the pupils' tasks for them; he may be very popular with the pupils, but he will teach them little. a government, on the other hand, which neither does any thing itself that can possibly be done by any one else, nor shows any one else how to do any thing, is like a school in which there is no schoolmaster, but only pupil-teachers who have never themselves been taught. chapter xvi--of nationality, as connected with representative government. a portion of mankind may be said to constitute a nationality if they are united among themselves by common sympathies which do not exist between them and any others--which make them co-operate with each other more willingly than with other people, desire to be under the same government, and desire that it should be government by themselves, or a portion of themselves, exclusively. this feeling of nationality may have been generated by various causes. sometimes it is the effect of identity of race and descent. community of language and community of religion greatly contribute to it. geographical limits are one of its causes. but the strongest of all is identity of political antecedents; the possession of a national history, and consequent community of recollections; collective pride and humiliation, pleasure and regret, connected with the same incidents in the past. none of these circumstances, however, are either indispensable or necessarily sufficient by themselves. switzerland has a strong sentiment of nationality, though the cantons are of different races, different languages, and different religions. sicily has hitherto felt itself quite distinct in nationality from naples, notwithstanding identity of religion, almost identity of language, and a considerable amount of common historical antecedents. the flemish and the walloon provinces of belgium, notwithstanding diversity of race and language, have a much greater feeling of common nationality than the former have with holland, or the latter with france. yet in general the national feeling is proportionally weakened by the failure of any of the causes which contribute to it. identity of language, literature, and, to some extent, of race and recollections, have maintained the feeling of nationality in considerable strength among the different portions of the german name, though they have at no time been really united under the same government; but the feeling has never reached to making the separate states desire to get rid of their autonomy. among italians, an identity far from complete of language and literature, combined with a geographical position which separates them by a distinct line from other countries, and, perhaps more than every thing else, the possession of a common name, which makes them all glory in the past achievements in arts, arms, politics, religious primacy, science, and literature, of any who share the same designation, give rise to an amount of national feeling in the population which, though still imperfect, has been sufficient to produce the great events now passing before us, notwithstanding a great mixture of races, and although they have never, in either ancient or modern history, been under the same government, except while that government extended or was extending itself over the greater part of the known world. where the sentiment of nationality exists in any force, there is a _primâ facie_ case for uniting all the members of the nationality under the same government, and a government to themselves apart. this is merely saying that the question of government ought to be decided by the governed. one hardly knows what any division of the human race should be free to do if not to determine with which of the various collective bodies of human beings they choose to associate themselves. but, when a people are ripe for free institutions, there is a still more vital consideration. free institutions are next to impossible in a country made up of different nationalities. among a people without fellow-feeling, especially if they read and speak different languages, the united public opinion necessary to the working of representative government can not exist. the influences which form opinions and decide political acts are different in the different sections of the country. an altogether different set of leaders have the confidence of one part of the country and of another. the same books, newspapers, pamphlets, speeches, do not reach them. one section does not know what opinions or what instigations are circulating in another. the same incidents, the same acts, the same system of government, affect them in different ways, and each fears more injury to itself from the other nationalities than from the common arbiter, the state. their mutual antipathies are generally much stronger than jealousy of the government. that any one of them feels aggrieved by the policy of the common ruler is sufficient to determine another to support that policy. even if all are aggrieved, none feel that they can rely on the others for fidelity in a joint resistance; the strength of none is sufficient to resist alone, and each may reasonably think that it consults its own advantage most by bidding for the favor of the government against the rest. above all, the grand and only reliable security in the last resort against the despotism of the government is in that case wanting--the sympathy of the army with the people. the military are the part of every community in whom, from the nature of the case, the distinction between their fellow-countrymen and foreigners is the deepest and strongest. to the rest of the people foreigners are merely strangers; to the soldier, they are men against whom he may be called, at a week's notice, to fight for life or death. the difference to him is that between friends and enemies--we may almost say between fellow-men and another kind of animals; for, as respects the enemy, the only law is that of force, and the only mitigation the same as in the case of other animals--that of simple humanity. soldiers to whose feelings half or three fourths of the subjects of the same government are foreigners will have no more scruple in mowing them down, and no more desire to ask the reason why, than they would have in doing the same thing against declared enemies. an army composed of various nationalities has no other patriotism than devotion to the flag. such armies have been the executioners of liberty through the whole duration of modern history. the sole bond which holds them together is their officers and the government which they serve, and their only idea, if they have any, of public duty, is obedience to orders. a government thus supported, by keeping its hungarian regiments in italy and its italian in hungary, can long continue to rule in both places with the iron rod of foreign conquerors. if it be said that so broadly-marked a distinction between what is due to a fellow-countryman and what is due merely to a human creature is more worthy of savages than of civilized beings, and ought, with the utmost energy, to be contended against, no one holds that opinion more strongly than myself. but this object, one of the worthiest to which human endeavour can be directed, can never, in the present state of civilization, be promoted by keeping different nationalities of any thing like equivalent strength under the same government. in a barbarous state of society the case is sometimes different. the government may then be interested in softening the antipathies of the races, that peace may be preserved and the country more easily governed. but when there are either free institutions, or a desire for them, in any of the peoples artificially tied together, the interest of the government lies in an exactly opposite direction. it is then interested in keeping up and envenoming their antipathies, that they may be prevented from coalescing, and it may be enabled to use some of them as tools for the enslavement of others. the austrian court has now for a whole generation made these tactics its principal means of government, with what fatal success, at the time of the vienna insurrection and the hungarian contest the world knows too well. happily there are now signs that improvement is too far advanced to permit this policy to be any longer successful. for the preceding reasons, it is in general a necessary condition of free institutions that the boundaries of governments should coincide in the main with those of nationalities. but several considerations are liable to conflict in practice with this general principle. in the first place, its application is often precluded by geographical hindrances. there are parts even of europe in which different nationalities are so locally intermingled that it is not practicable for them to be under separate governments. the population of hungary is composed of magyars, slovaks, croats, serbs, roumans, and in some districts germans, so mixed up as to be incapable of local separation; and there is no course open to them but to make a virtue of necessity, and reconcile themselves to living together under equal rights and laws. their community of servitude, which dates only from the destruction of hungarian independence in , seems to be ripening and disposing them for such an equal union. the german colony of east prussia is cut off from germany by part of the ancient poland, and being too weak to maintain separate independence, must, if geographical continuity is to be maintained, be either under a non-german government, or the intervening polish territory must be under a german one. another considerable region in which the dominant element of the population is german, the provinces of courland, esthonia, and livonia, is condemned by its local situation to form part of a slavonian state. in eastern germany itself there is a large slavonic population; bohemia is principally slavonic, silesia and other districts partially so. the most united country in europe, france, is far from being homogeneous: independently of the fragments of foreign nationalities at its remote extremities, it consists, as language and history prove, of two portions, one occupied almost exclusively by a gallo-roman population, while in the other the frankish, burgundian, and other teutonic races form a considerable ingredient. when proper allowance has been made for geographical exigencies, another more purely moral and social consideration offers itself. experience proves that it is possible for one nationality to merge and be absorbed in another; and when it was originally an inferior and more backward portion of the human race, the absorption is greatly to its advantage. nobody can suppose that it is not more beneficial to a breton, or a basque of french navarre, to be brought into the current of the ideas and feelings of a highly civilized and cultivated people--to be a member of the french nationality, admitted on equal terms to all the privileges of french citizenship, sharing the advantages of french protection, and the dignity and _prestige_ of french power--than to sulk on his own rocks, the half-savage relic of past times, revolving in his own little mental orbit, without participation or interest in the general movement of the world. the same remark applies to the welshman or the scottish highlander as members of the british nation. whatever really tends to the admixture of nationalities, and the blending of their attributes and peculiarities in a common union, is a benefit to the human race. not by extinguishing types, of which, in these cases, sufficient examples are sure to remain, but by softening their extreme forms, and filling up the intervals between them. the united people, like a crossed breed of animals (but in a still greater degree, because the influences in operation are moral as well as physical), inherits the special aptitudes and excellences of all its progenitors, protected by the admixture from being exaggerated into the neighboring vices. but, to render this admixture possible, there must be peculiar conditions. the combinations of circumstances which occur, and which effect the result, are various. the nationalities brought together under the same government may be about equal in numbers and strength, or they may be very unequal. if unequal, the least numerous of the two may either be the superior in civilization, or the inferior. supposing it to be superior, it may either, through that superiority, be able to acquire ascendancy over the other, or it may be overcome by brute strength and reduced to subjection. this last is a sheer mischief to the human race, and one which civilized humanity with one accord should rise in arms to prevent. the absorption of greece by macedonia was one of the greatest misfortunes which ever happened to the world; that of any of the principal countries of europe by russia would be a similar one. if the smaller nationality, supposed to be the more advanced in improvement, is able to overcome the greater, as the macedonians, re-enforced by the greeks, did asia, and the english india, there is often a gain to civilization, but the conquerors and the conquered can not in this case live together under the same free institutions. the absorption of the conquerors in the less advanced people would be an evil: these must be governed as subjects, and the state of things is either a benefit or a misfortune, according as the subjugated people have or have not reached the state in which it is an injury not to be under a free government, and according as the conquerors do or do not use their superiority in a manner calculated to fit the conquered for a higher stage of improvement. this topic will be particularly treated of in a subsequent chapter. when the nationality which succeeds in overpowering the other is both the most numerous and the most improved, and especially if the subdued nationality is small, and has no hope of reasserting its independence, then, if it is governed with any tolerable justice, and if the members of the more powerful nationality are not made odious by being invested with exclusive privileges, the smaller nationality is gradually reconciled to its position, and becomes amalgamated with the larger. no bas-breton, nor even any alsatian, has the smallest wish at the present day to be separated from france. if all irishmen have not yet arrived at the same disposition towards england, it is partly because they are sufficiently numerous to be capable of constituting a respectable nationality by themselves, but principally because, until of late years, they had been so atrociously governed that all their best feelings combined with their bad ones in rousing bitter resentment against the saxon rule. this disgrace to england and calamity to the whole empire has, it may be truly said, completely ceased for nearly a generation. no irishman is now less free than an anglo-saxon, nor has a less share of every benefit either to his country or to his individual fortunes than if he were sprung from any other portion of the british dominions. the only remaining real grievance of ireland, that of the state church, is one which half, or nearly half the people of the larger island have in common with them. there is now next to nothing, except the memory of the past, and the difference in the predominant religion, to keep apart two races perhaps the most fitted of any two in the world to be the completing counterpart of one another. the consciousness of being at last treated not only with equal justice, but with equal consideration, is making such rapid way in the irish nation as to be wearing off all feelings that could make them insensible to the benefits which the less numerous and less wealthy people must necessarily derive from being fellow-citizens instead of foreigners to those who are not only their nearest neighbors, but the wealthiest, and one of the freest, as well as most civilized and powerful nations of the earth. the cases in which the greatest practical obstacles exist to the blending of nationalities are when the nationalities which have been bound together are nearly equal in numbers and in the other elements of power. in such cases, each, confiding in its strength, and feeling itself capable of maintaining an equal struggle with any of the others, is unwilling to be merged in it; each cultivates with party obstinacy its distinctive peculiarities; obsolete customs, and even declining languages, are revived, to deepen the separation; each deems itself tyrannized over if any authority is exercised within itself by functionaries of a rival race; and whatever is given to one of the conflicting nationalities is considered to be taken from all the rest. when nations thus divided are under a despotic government which is a stranger to all of them, or which, though sprung from one, yet feeling greater interest in its own power than in any sympathies of nationality, assigns no privilege to either nation, and chooses its instruments indifferently from all, in the course of a few generations identity of situation often produces harmony of feeling, and the different races come to feel towards each other as fellow-countrymen, particularly if they are dispersed over the same tract of country. but if the era of aspiration to free government arrives before this fusion has been effected, the opportunity has gone by for effecting it. from that time, if the unreconciled nationalities are geographically separate, and especially if their local position is such that there is no natural fitness or convenience in their being under the same government (as in the case of an italian province under a french or german yoke), there is not only an obvious propriety, but, if either freedom or concord is cared for, a necessity for breaking the connection altogether. there may be cases in which the provinces, after separation, might usefully remain united by a federal tie; but it generally happens that if they are willing to forego complete independence, and become members of a federation, each of them has other neighbors with whom it would prefer to connect itself, having more sympathies in common, if not also greater community of interest. chapter xvii--of federal representative governments. portions of mankind who are not fitted or not disposed to live under the same internal government may often, with advantage, be federally united as to their relations with foreigners, both to prevent wars among themselves, and for the sake of more effectual protection against the aggression of powerful states. to render a federation advisable several conditions are necessary. the first is that there should be a sufficient amount of mutual sympathy among the populations. the federation binds them always to fight on the same side; and if they have such feelings toward one another, or such diversity of feeling toward their neighbors that they would generally prefer to fight on opposite sides, the federal tie is neither likely to be of long duration, nor to be well observed while it subsists. the sympathies available for the purpose are those of race, language, religion, and, above all, of political institutions, as conducing most to a feeling of identity of political interest. when a few free states, separately insufficient for their own defense, are hemmed in on all sides by military or feudal monarchs, who hate and despise freedom even in a neighbor, those states have no chance for preserving liberty and its blessings but by a federal union. the common interest arising from this cause has in switzerland, for several centuries, been found adequate to maintain efficiently the federal bond, in spite not only of difference of religion when religion was the grand source of irreconcilable political enmity throughout europe, but also in spite of great weakness in the constitution of the federation itself. in america, where all the conditions for the maintenance of union existed at the highest point, with the sole drawback of difference of institutions in the single but most important article of slavery, this one difference goes so far in alienating from each other's sympathies the two divisions of the union as to be now actually effecting the disruption of a tie of so much value to them both. a second condition of the stability of a federal government is that the separate states be not so powerful as to be able to rely for protection against foreign encroachment on their individual strength. if they are, they will be apt to think that they do not gain, by union with others, the equivalent of what they sacrifice in their own liberty of action; and consequently, whenever the policy of the confederation, in things reserved to its cognizance, is different from that which any one of its members would separately pursue, the internal and sectional breach will, through absence of sufficient anxiety to preserve the union, be in danger of going so far as to dissolve it. a third condition, not less important than the two others, is that there be not a very marked inequality of strength among the several contracting states. they can not, indeed, be exactly equal in resources; in all federations there will be a gradation of power among the members; some will be more populous, rich, and civilized than others. there is a wide difference in wealth and population between new york and rhode island; between berne, and zug or glaris. the essential is, that there should not be any one state so much more powerful than the rest as to be capable of vying in strength with many of them combined. if there be such a one, and only one, it will insist on being master of the joint deliberations; if there be two, they will be irresistible when they agree; and whenever they differ, every thing will be decided by a struggle for ascendancy between the rivals. this cause is alone enough to reduce the german bund to almost a nullity, independently of its wretched internal constitution. it effects none of the real purposes of a confederation. it has never bestowed on germany a uniform system of customs, nor so much as a uniform coinage, and has served only to give austria and prussia a legal right of pouring in their troops to assist the local sovereigns in keeping their subjects obedient to despotism, while, in regard to external concerns, the bund would make all germany a dependency of prussia if there were no austria, and of austria if there were no prussia; and, in the mean time, each petty prince has little choice but to be a partisan of one or the other, or to intrigue with foreign governments against both. there are two different modes of organizing a federal union. the federal authorities may represent the governments solely, and their acts may be obligatory only on the governments as such, or they may have the power of enacting laws and issuing orders which are binding directly on individual citizens. the former is the plan of the german so-called confederation, and of the swiss constitution previous to . it was tried in america for a few years immediately following the war of independence. the other principle is that of the existing constitution of the united states, and has been adopted within the last dozen years by the swiss confederacy. the federal congress of the american union is a substantive part of the government of every individual state. within the limits of its attributions, it makes laws which are obeyed by every citizen individually, executes them through its own officers, and enforces them by its own tribunals. this is the only principle which has been found, or which is ever likely to produce an effective federal government. a union between the governments only is a mere alliance, and subject to all the contingencies which render alliances precarious. if the acts of the president and of congress were binding solely on the governments of new york, virginia, or pennsylvania, and could only be carried into effect through orders issued by those governments to officers appointed by them, under responsibility to their own courts of justice, no mandates of the federal government which were disagreeable to a local majority would ever be executed. requisitions issued to a government have no other sanction or means of enforcement than war, and a federal army would have to be always in readiness to enforce the decrees of the federation against any recalcitrant state, subject to the probability that other states, sympathizing with the recusant, and perhaps sharing its sentiments on the particular point in dispute, would withhold their contingents, if not send them to fight in the ranks of the disobedient state. such a federation is more likely to be a cause than a preventive of internal wars; and if such was not its effect in switzerland until the events of the years immediately preceding , it was only because the federal government felt its weakness so strongly that it hardly ever attempted to exercise any real authority. in america, the experiment of a federation on this principle broke down in the first few years of its existence, happily while the men of enlarged knowledge and acquired ascendancy who founded the independence of the republic were still alive to guide it through the difficult transition. the "federalist," a collection of papers by three of these eminent men, written in explanation and defense of the new federal constitution while still awaiting the national acceptance, is even now the most instructive treatise we possess on federal government. in germany, the more imperfect kind of federation, as all know, has not even answered the purpose of maintaining an alliance. it has never, in any european war, prevented single members of the confederation from allying themselves with foreign powers against the rest. yet this is the only federation which seems possible among monarchical states. a king, who holds his power by inheritance, not by delegation, and who can not be deprived of it, nor made responsible to any one for its use, is not likely to renounce having a separate army, or to brook the exercise of sovereign authority over his own subjects, not through him, but directly by another power. to enable two or more countries under kingly government to be joined together in an effectual confederation, it seems necessary that they should all be under the same king. england and scotland were a federation of this description during the interval of about a century between the union of the crowns and that of the parliaments. even this was effective, not through federal institutions, for none existed, but because the regal power in both constitutions was so nearly absolute as to enable the foreign policy of both to be shaped according to a single will. under the more perfect mode of federation, where every citizen of each particular state owes obedience to two governments, that of his own state and that of the federation, it is evidently necessary not only that the constitutional limits of the authority of each should be precisely and clearly defined, but that the power to decide between them in any case of dispute should not reside in either of the governments, or in any functionary subject to it, but in an umpire independent of both. there must be a supreme court of justice, and a system of subordinate courts in every state of the union, before whom such questions shall be carried, and whose judgment on them, in the last stage of appeal, shall be final. every state of the union, and the federal government itself, as well as every functionary of each, must be liable to be sued in those courts for exceeding their powers, or for non-performance of their federal duties, and must in general be obliged to employ those courts as the instrument for enforcing their federal rights. this involves the remarkable consequence, actually realized in the united states, that a court of justice, the highest federal tribunal, is supreme over the various governments, both state and federal, having the right to declare that any law made, or act done by them, exceeds the powers assigned to them by the federal constitution, and, in consequence, has no legal validity. it was natural to feel strong doubts, before trial had been made, how such a provision would work; whether the tribunal would have the courage to exercise its constitutional power; if it did, whether it would exercise it wisely, and whether the governments would consent to submit peaceably to its decision. the discussions on the american constitution, before its final adoption, give evidence that these natural apprehensions were strongly felt; but they are now entirely quieted, since, during the two generations and more which have subsequently elapsed, nothing has occurred to verify them, though there have at times been disputes of considerable acrimony, and which became the badges of parties, respecting the limits of the authority of the federal and state governments. the eminently beneficial working of so singular a provision is probably, as m. de tocqueville remarks, in a great measure attributable to the peculiarity inherent in a court of justice acting as such--namely, that it does not declare the law _eo nomine_ and in the abstract, but waits until a case between man and man is brought before it judicially, involving the point in dispute; from which arises the happy effect that its declarations are not made in a very early stage of the controversy; that much popular discussion usually precedes them; that the court decides after hearing the point fully argued on both sides by lawyers of reputation; decides only as much of the question at a time as is required by the case before it, and its decision, instead of being volunteered for political purposes, is drawn from it by the duty which it can not refuse to fulfil, of dispensing justice impartially between adverse litigants. even these grounds of confidence would not have sufficed to produce the respectful submission with which all authorities have yielded to the decisions of the supreme court on the interpretation of the constitution, were it not that complete reliance has been felt, not only on the intellectual pre-eminence of the judges composing that exalted tribunal, but on their entire superiority over either private or sectional partialities. this reliance has been in the main justified; but there is nothing which more vitally imports the american people than to guard with the most watchful solicitude against every thing which has the remotest tendency to produce deterioration in the quality of this great national institution. the confidence on which depends the stability of federal institutions has been for the first time impaired by the judgment declaring slavery to be of common right, and consequently lawful in the territories while not yet constituted as states, even against the will of a majority of their inhabitants. the main pillar of the american constitution is scarcely strong enough to bear many more such shocks. the tribunals which act as umpires between the federal and the state governments naturally also decide all disputes between two states, or between a citizen of one state and the government of another. the usual remedies between nations, war and diplomacy, being precluded by the federal union, it is necessary that a judicial remedy should supply their place. the supreme court of the federation dispenses international law, and is the first great example of what is now one of the most prominent wants of civilized society, a real international tribunal. the powers of a federal government naturally extend not only to peace and war, and all questions which arise between the country and foreign governments, but to making any other arrangements which are, in the opinion of the states, necessary to their enjoyment of the full benefits of union. for example, it is a great advantage to them that their mutual commerce should be free, without the impediment of frontier duties and custom-houses. but this internal freedom can not exist if each state has the power of fixing the duties on interchange of commodities between itself and foreign countries, since every foreign product let in by one state would be let into all the rest; and hence all custom duties and trade regulations in the united states are made or repealed by the federal government exclusively. again, it is a great convenience to the states to have but one coinage, and but one system of weights and measures, which can only be insured if the regulation of these matters is intrusted to the federal government. the certainty and celerity of post-office communication is impeded, and its expense increased, if a letter has to pass through half a dozen sets of public offices, subject to different supreme authorities: it is convenient, therefore, that all post-offices should be under the federal government; but on such questions the feelings of different communities are liable to be different. one of the american states, under the guidance of a man who has displayed powers as a speculative political thinker superior to any who has appeared in american politics since the authors of the "federalist," [ ] claimed a veto for each state on the custom laws of the federal congress; and that statesman, in a posthumous work of great ability, which has been printed and widely circulated by the legislature of south carolina, vindicated this pretension on the general principle of limiting the tyranny of the majority, and protecting minorities by admitting them to a substantial participation in political power. one of the most disputed topics in american politics during the early part of this century was whether the power of the federal government ought to extend, and whether by the constitution it did extend, to making roads and canals at the cost of the union. it is only in transactions with foreign powers that the authority of the federal government is of necessity complete. on every other subject the question depends on how closely the people in general wish to draw the federal tie; what portion of their local freedom of action they are willing to surrender, in order to enjoy more fully the benefit of being one nation. respecting the fitting constitution of a federal government within itself, much need not be said. it of course consists of a legislative branch and an executive, and the constitution of each is amenable to the same principles as that of representative governments generally. as regards the mode of adapting these general principles to a federal government, the provision of the american constitution seems exceedingly judicious, that congress should consist of two houses, and that while one of them is constituted according to population, each state being entitled to representatives in the ratio of the number of its inhabitants, the other should represent not the citizens, but the state governments, and every state, whether large or small, should be represented in it by the same number of members. this provision precludes any undue power from being exercised by the more powerful states over the rest, and guarantees the reserved rights of the state governments by making it impossible, as far as the mode of representation can prevent, that any measure should pass congress unless approved not only by a majority of the citizens, but by a majority of the states. i have before adverted to the further incidental advantage obtained of raising the standard of qualifications in one of the houses. being nominated by select bodies, the legislatures of the various states, whose choice, for reasons already indicated, is more likely to fall on eminent men than any popular election--who have not only the power of electing such, but a strong motive to do so, because the influence of their state in the general deliberations must be materially affected by the personal weight and abilities of its representatives--the senate of the united states, thus chosen, has always contained nearly all the political men of established and high reputation in the union; while the lower house of congress has, in the opinion of competent observers, been generally as remarkable for the absence of conspicuous personal merit, as the upper house for its presence. when the conditions exist for the formation of efficient and durable federal unions, the multiplication of them is always a benefit to the world. it has the same salutary effect as any other extension of the practice of co-operation, through which the weak, by uniting, can meet on equal terms with the strong. by diminishing the number of those petty states which are not equal to their own defense, it weakens the temptations to an aggressive policy, whether working directly by arms, or through the _prestige_ of superior power. it of course puts an end to war and diplomatic quarrels, and usually also to restrictions on commerce, between the states composing the union; while, in reference to neighboring nations, the increased military strength conferred by it is of a kind to be almost exclusively available for defensive, scarcely at all for aggressive purposes. a federal government has not a sufficiently concentrated authority to conduct with much efficiency any war but one of self-defense, in which it can rely on the voluntary co-operation of every citizen; nor is there any thing very flattering to national vanity or ambition in acquiring, by a successful war, not subjects, nor even fellow-citizens, but only new, and perhaps troublesome independent members of the confederation. the warlike proceedings of the americans in mexico was purely exceptional, having been carried on principally by volunteers, under the influence of the migratory propensity which prompts individual americans to possess themselves of unoccupied land, and stimulated, if by any public motive, not by that of national aggrandizement, but by the purely sectional purpose of extending slavery. there are few signs in the proceedings of americans, nationally or individually, that the desire of territorial acquisition for their country as such has any considerable power over them. their hankering after cuba is, in the same manner, merely sectional, and the northern states, those opposed to slavery, have never in any way favored it. the question may present itself (as in italy at its present uprising) whether a country which is determined to be united should form a complete or a merely federal union. the point is sometimes necessarily decided by the mere territorial magnitude of the united whole. there is a limit to the extent of country which can advantageously be governed, or even whose government can be conveniently superintended from a single centre. there are vast countries so governed; but they, or at least their distant provinces, are in general deplorably ill administered, and it is only when the inhabitants are almost savages that they could not manage their affairs better separately. this obstacle does not exist in the case of italy, the size of which does not come up to that of several very efficiently governed single states in past and present times. the question then is, whether the different parts of the nation require to be governed in a way so essentially different that it is not probable the same legislature, and the same ministry or administrative body, will give satisfaction to them all. unless this be the case, which is a question of fact, it is better for them to be completely united. that a totally different system of laws and very different administrative institutions may exist in two portions of a country without being any obstacle to legislative unity, is proved by the case of england and scotland. perhaps, however, this undisturbed coexistence of two legal systems under one united legislature, making different laws for the two sections of the country in adaptation to the previous differences, might not be so well preserved, or the same confidence might not be felt in its preservation, in a country whose legislators are more possessed (as is apt to be the case on the continent) with the mania for uniformity. a people having that unbounded toleration which is characteristic of this country for every description of anomaly, so long as those whose interests it concerns do not feel aggrieved by it, afforded an exceptionally advantageous field for trying this difficult experiment. in most countries, if it was an object to retain different systems of law, it might probably be necessary to retain distinct legislatures as guardians of them, which is perfectly compatible with a national parliament and king, or a national parliament without a king, supreme over the external relations of all the members of the body. whenever it is not deemed necessary to maintain permanently, in the different provinces, different systems of jurisprudence, and fundamental institutions grounded on different principles, it is always practicable to reconcile minor diversities with the maintenance of unity of government. all that is needful is to give a sufficiently large sphere of action to the local authorities. under one and the same central government there may be local governors, and provincial assemblies for local purposes. it may happen, for instance, that the people of different provinces may have preferences in favor of different modes of taxation. if the general legislature could not be depended on for being guided by the members for each province in modifying the general system of taxation to suit that province, the constitution might provide that as many of the expenses of the government as could by any possibility be made local should be defrayed by local rates imposed by the provincial assemblies, and that those which must of necessity be general, such as the support of an army and navy, should, in the estimates for the year, be apportioned among the different provinces according to some general estimate of their resources, the amount assigned to each being levied by the local assembly on the principles most acceptable to the locality, and paid _en bloc_ into the national treasury. a practice approaching to this existed even in the old french monarchy, so far as regarded the _pays d'états_, each of which, having consented or been required to furnish a fixed sum, was left to assess it upon the inhabitants by its own officers, thus escaping the grinding despotism of the royal _intendants_ and _subdélégués;_ and this privilege is always mentioned as one of the advantages which mainly contributed to render them, as some of them were, the most flourishing provinces of france. identity of central government is compatible with many different degrees of centralisation, not only administrative, but even legislative. a people may have the desire and the capacity for a closer union than one merely federal, while yet their local peculiarities and antecedents render considerable diversities desirable in the details of their government. but if there is a real desire on all hands to make the experiment successful, there needs seldom be any difficulty in not only preserving these diversities, but giving them the guaranty of a constitutional provision against any attempt at assimilation except by the voluntary act of those who would be affected by the change. chapter xviii--of the government of dependencies by a free state. free states, like all others, may possess dependencies, acquired either by conquest or by colonization, and our own is the greatest instance of the kind in modern history. it is a most important question how such dependencies ought to be governed. it is unnecessary to discuss the case of small posts, like gibraltar, aden, or heligoland, which are held only as naval or military positions. the military or naval object is in this case paramount, and the inhabitants can not, consistently with it, be admitted to the government of the place, though they ought to be allowed all liberties and privileges compatible with that restriction, including the free management of municipal affairs, and, as a compensation for being locally sacrificed to the convenience of the governing state, should be admitted to equal rights with its native subjects in all other parts of the empire. outlying territories of some size and population, which are held as dependencies, that is, which are subject, more or less, to acts of sovereign power on the part of the paramount country, without being equally represented (if represented at all) in its legislature, may be divided into two classes. some are composed of people of similar civilization to the ruling country, capable of, and ripe for, representative government, such as the british possessions in america and australia. others, like india, are still at a great distance from that state. in the case of dependencies of the former class, this country has at length realized, in rare completeness, the true principle of government. england has always felt under a certain degree of obligation to bestow on such of her outlying populations as were of her own blood and language, and on some who were not, representative institutions formed in imitation of her own; but, until the present generation, she has been on the same bad level with other countries as to the amount of self-government which she allowed them to exercise through the representative institutions that she conceded to them. she claimed to be the supreme arbiter even of their purely internal concerns, according to her own, not their ideas of how those concerns could be best regulated. this practice was a natural corollary from the vicious theory of colonial policy--once common to all europe, and not yet completely relinquished by any other people--which regarded colonies as valuable by affording markets for our commodities that could be kept entirely to ourselves; a privilege we valued so highly that we thought it worth purchasing by allowing to the colonies the same monopoly of our market for their own productions which we claimed for our commodities in theirs. this notable plan for enriching them and ourselves by making each pay enormous sums to the other, dropping the greatest part by the way, has been for some time abandoned. but the bad habit of meddling in the internal government of the colonies did not at once die out when we relinquished the idea of making any profit by it. we continued to torment them, not for any benefit to ourselves, but for that of a section or faction among the colonists; and this persistence in domineering cost us a canadian rebellion before we had the happy thought of giving it up. england was like an ill brought-up elder brother, who persists in tyrannizing over the younger ones from mere habit, till one of them, by a spirited resistance, though with unequal strength, gives him notice to desist. we were wise enough not to require a second warning. a new era in the colonial policy of nations began with lord durham's report; the imperishable memorial of that nobleman's courage, patriotism, and enlightened liberality, and of the intellect and practical sagacity of its joint authors, mr. wakefield and the lamented charles buller. [ ] it is now a fixed principle of the policy of great britain, professed in theory and faithfully adhered to in practice, that her colonies of european race, equally with the parent country, possess the fullest measure of internal self-government. they have been allowed to make their own free representative constitutions by altering in any manner they thought fit the already very popular constitutions which we had given them. each is governed by its own legislature and executive, constituted on highly democratic principles. the veto of the crown and of parliament, though nominally reserved, is only exercised (and that very rarely) on questions which concern the empire, and not solely the particular colony. how liberal a construction has been given to the distinction between imperial and colonial questions is shown by the fact that the whole of the unappropriated lands in the regions behind our american and australian colonies have been given up to the uncontrolled disposal of the colonial communities, though they might, without injustice, have been kept in the hands of the imperial government, to be administered for the greatest advantage of future emigrants from all parts of the empire. every colony has thus as full power over its own affairs as it could have if it were a member of even the loosest federation, and much fuller than would belong to it under the constitution of the united states, being free even to tax at its pleasure the commodities imported from the mother country. their union with great britain is the slightest kind of federal union; but not a strictly equal federation, the mother country retaining to itself the powers of a federal government, though reduced in practice to their very narrowest limits. this inequality is, of course, as far as it goes, a disadvantage to the dependencies, which have no voice in foreign policy, but are bound by the decisions of the superior country. they are compelled to join england in war without being in any way consulted previous to engaging in it. those (now happily not a few) who think that justice is as binding on communities as it is on individuals, and that men are not warranted in doing to other countries, for the supposed benefit of their own country, what they would not be justified in doing to other men for their own benefit, feel even this limited amount of constitutional subordination on the part of the colonies to be a violation of principle, and have often occupied themselves in looking out for means by which it may be avoided. with this view it has been proposed by some that the colonies should return representatives to the british legislature, and by others that the powers of our own, as well as of their parliaments, should be confined to internal policy, and that there should be another representative body for foreign and imperial concerns, in which last the dependencies of great britain should be represented in the same manner, and with the same completeness as great britain itself. on this system there would be a perfectly equal federation between the mother country and her colonies, then no longer dependencies. the feelings of equity and conceptions of public morality from which these suggestions emanate are worthy of all praise, but the suggestions themselves are so inconsistent with rational principles of government that it is doubtful if they have been seriously accepted as a possibility by any reasonable thinker. countries separated by half the globe do not present the natural conditions for being under one government, or even members of one federation. if they had sufficiently the same interests, they have not, and never can have, a sufficient habit of taking council together. they are not part of the same public; they do not discuss and deliberate in the same arena, but apart, and have only a most imperfect knowledge of what passes in the minds of one another. they neither know each other's objects, nor have confidence in each other's principles of conduct. let any englishman ask himself how he should like his destinies to depend on an assembly of which one third was british american, and another third south african and australian. yet to this it must come if there were any thing like fair or equal representation; and would not every one feel that the representatives of canada and australia, even in matters of an imperial character, could not know or feel any sufficient concern for the interests, opinions, or wishes of english, irish, and scotch? even for strictly federative purposes the conditions do not exist which we have seen to be essential to a federation. england is sufficient for her own protection without the colonies, and would be in a much stronger, as well as more dignified position, if separated from them, than when reduced to be a single member of an american, african, and australian confederation. over and above the commerce which she might equally enjoy after separation, england derives little advantage, except in _prestige_, from her dependencies, and the little she does derive is quite outweighed by the expense they cost her, and the dissemination they necessitate of her naval and military force, which, in case of war, or any real apprehension of it, requires to be double or treble what would be needed for the defense of this country alone. but, though great britain could do perfectly well without her colonies, and though, on every principle of morality and justice, she ought to consent to their separation, should the time come when, after full trial of the best form of union, they deliberately desire to be dissevered, there are strong reasons for maintaining the present slight bond of connection so long as not disagreeable to the feelings of either party. it is a step, as far as it goes, towards universal peace and general friendly co-operation among nations. it renders war impossible among a large number of otherwise independent communities, and, moreover, hinders any of them from being absorbed into a foreign state, and becoming a source of additional aggressive strength to some rival power, either more despotic or closer at hand, which might not always be so unambitious or so pacific as great britain. it at least keeps the markets of the different countries open to one another, and prevents that mutual exclusion by hostile tariffs which none of the great communities of mankind except england have yet outgrown. and in the case of the british possessions it has the advantage, especially valuable at the present time, of adding to the moral influence and weight in the councils of the world of the power which, of all in existence, best understands liberty--and, whatever may have been its errors in the past, has attained to more of conscience and moral principle in its dealings with foreigners than any other great nation seems either to conceive as possible or recognize as desirable. since, then, the union can only continue, while it does continue, on the footing of an unequal federation, it is important to consider by what means this small amount of inequality can be prevented from being either onerous or humiliating to the communities occupying the less exalted position. the only inferiority necessarily inherent in the case is that the mother country decides, both for the colonies and for herself, on questions of peace and war. they gain, in return, the obligation on the mother country to repel aggressions directed against them; but, except when the minor community is so weak that the protection of a stronger power is indispensable to it, reciprocity of obligation is not a full equivalent for non-admission to a voice in the deliberations. it is essential, therefore, that in all wars, save those which, like the caffre or new zealand wars, are incurred for the sake of the particular colony, the colonists should not (without their own voluntary request) be called on to contribute any thing to the expense except what may be required for the specific local defense of their ports, shores, and frontiers against invasion. moreover, as the mother country claims the privilege, at her sole discretion, of taking measures or pursuing a policy which may expose them to attack, it is just that she should undertake a considerable portion of the cost of their military defense even in time of peace; the whole of it, so far as it depends upon a standing army. but there is a means, still more effectual than these, by which, and in general by which alone, a full equivalent can be given to a smaller community for sinking its individuality, as a substantive power among nations, in the greater individuality of a wide and powerful empire. this one indispensable, and, at the same time, sufficient expedient, which meets at once the demands of justice and the growing exigencies of policy, is to open the service of government in all its departments, and in every part of the empire, on perfectly equal terms, to the inhabitants of the colonies. why does no one ever hear a breath of disloyalty from the islands in the british channel? by race, religion, and geographical position they belong less to england than to france; but, while they enjoy, like canada and new south wales, complete control over their internal affairs and their taxation, every office or dignity in the gift of the crown is freely open to the native of guernsey or jersey. generals, admirals, peers of the united kingdom are made, and there is nothing which hinders prime ministers to be made from those insignificant islands. the same system was commenced in reference to the colonies generally by an enlightened colonial secretary, too early lost, sir william molesworth, when he appointed mr. hinckes, a leading canadian politician, to a west indian government. it is a very shallow view of the springs of political action in a community which thinks such things unimportant because the number of those in a position actually to profit by the concession might not be very considerable. that limited number would be composed precisely of those who have most moral power over the rest; and men are not so destitute of the sense of collective degradation as not to feel the withholding of an advantage from even one person, because of a circumstance which they all have in common with him, an affront to all. if we prevent the leading men of a community from standing forth to the world as its chiefs and representatives in the general councils of mankind, we owe it both to their legitimate ambition and to the just pride of the community to give them in return an equal chance of occupying the same prominent position in a nation of greater power and importance. were the whole service of the british crown opened to the natives of the ionian islands, we should hear no more of the desire for union with greece. such a union is not desirable for the people, to whom it would be a step backward in civilization; but it is no wonder if corfu, which has given a minister of european reputation to the russian empire, and a president to greece itself before the arrival of the bavarians, should feel it a grievance that its people are not admissable to the highest posts in some government or other. thus far of the dependencies whose population is in a sufficiently advanced state to be fitted for representative government; but there are others which have not attained that state, and which, if held at all, must be governed by the dominant country, or by persons delegated for that purpose by it. this mode of government is as legitimate as any other, if it is the one which in the existing state of civilization of the subject people most facilitates their transition to a higher stage of improvement. there are, as we have already seen, conditions of society in which a vigorous despotism is in itself the best mode of government for training the people in what is specifically wanting to render them capable of a higher civilization. there are others, in which the mere fact of despotism has indeed no beneficial effect, the lessons which it teaches having already been only too completely learned, but in which, there being no spring of spontaneous improvement in the people themselves, their almost only hope of making any steps in advance depends on the chances of a good despot. under a native despotism, a good despot is a rare and transitory accident; but when the dominion they are under is that of a more civilized people, that people ought to be able to supply it constantly. the ruling country ought to be able to do for its subjects all that could be done by a succession of absolute monarchs, guaranteed by irresistible force against the precariousness of tenure attendant on barbarous despotisms, and qualified by their genius to anticipate all that experience has taught to the more advanced nation. such is the ideal rule of a free people over a barbarous or semi-barbarous one. we need not expect to see that ideal realized; but, unless some approach to it is, the rulers are guilty of a dereliction of the highest moral trust which can devolve upon a nation; and if they do not even aim at it, they are selfish usurpers, on a par in criminality with any of those whose ambition and rapacity have sported from age to age with the destiny of masses of mankind. as it is already a common, and is rapidly tending to become the universal condition of the more backward populations to be either held in direct subjection by the more advanced, or to be under their complete political ascendancy, there are in this age of the world few more important problems than how to organize this rule, so as to make it a good instead of an evil to the subject people, providing them with the best attainable present government, and with the conditions most favorable to future permanent improvement. but the mode of fitting the government for this purpose is by no means so well understood as the conditions of good government in a people capable of governing themselves. we may even say that it is not understood at all. the thing appears perfectly easy to superficial observers. if india (for example) is not fit to govern itself, all that seems to them required is that there should be a minister to govern it, and that this minister, like all other british ministers, should be responsible to the british parliament. unfortunately this, though the simplest mode of attempting to govern a dependency, is about the worst, and betrays in its advocates a total want of comprehension of the conditions of good government. to govern a country under responsibility to the people of that country, and to govern one country under responsibility to the people of another, are two very different things. what makes the excellence of the first is, that freedom is preferable to despotism: but the last _is_ despotism. the only choice the case admits is a choice of despotisms, and it is not certain that the despotism of twenty millions is necessarily better than that of a few or of one; but it is quite certain that the despotism of those who neither hear, nor see, nor know any thing about their subjects, has many chances of being worse than that of those who do. it is not usually thought that the immediate agents of authority govern better because they govern in the name of an absent master, and of one who has a thousand more pressing interests to attend to. the master may hold them to a strict responsibility, enforced by heavy penalties, but it is very questionable if those penalties will often fall in the right place. it is always under great difficulties, and very imperfectly, that a country can be governed by foreigners, even when there is no extreme disparity in habits and ideas between the rulers and the ruled. foreigners do not feel with the people. they can not judge, by the light in which a thing appears to their own minds, or the manner in which it affects their feelings, how it will affect the feelings or appear to the minds of the subject population. what a native of the country, of average practical ability, knows as it were by instinct, they have to learn slowly, and, after all, imperfectly, by study and experience. the laws, the customs, the social relations for which they have to legislate, instead of being familiar to them from childhood, are all strange to them. for most of their detailed knowledge they must depend on the information of natives, and it is difficult for them to know whom to trust. they are feared, suspected, probably disliked by the population; seldom sought by them except for interested purposes; and they are prone to think that the servilely submissive are the trustworthy. their danger is of despising the natives; that of the natives is, of disbelieving that any thing the strangers do can be intended for their good. these are but a part of the difficulties that any rulers have to struggle with, who honestly attempt to govern well a country in which they are foreigners. to overcome these difficulties in any degree will always be a work of much labor, requiring a very superior degree of capacity in the chief administrators, and a high average among the subordinates; and the best organization of such a government is that which will best insure the labor, develop the capacity, and place the highest specimens of it in the situations of greatest trust. responsibility to an authority which has gone through none of the labor, acquired none of the capacity, and for the most part is not even aware that either, in any peculiar degree, is required, can not be regarded as a very effectual expedient for accomplishing these ends. the government of a people by itself has a meaning and a reality, but such a thing as government of one people by another does not and can not exist. one people may keep another as a warren or preserve for its own use, a place to make money in, a human-cattle farm to be worked for the profit of its own inhabitants; but if the good of the governed is the proper business of a government, it is utterly impossible that a people should directly attend to it. the utmost they can do is to give some of their best men a commission to look after it, to whom the opinion of their own country can neither be much of a guide in the performance of their duty, nor a competent judge of the mode in which it has been performed. let any one consider how the english themselves would be governed if they knew and cared no more about their own affairs than they know and care about the affairs of the hindoos. even this comparison gives no adequate idea of the state of the case; for a people thus indifferent to politics altogether would probably be simply acquiescent, and let the government alone; whereas in the case of india, a politically active people like the english, amid habitual acquiescence, are every now and then interfering, and almost always in the wrong place. the real causes which determine the prosperity or wretchedness, the improvement or deterioration of the hindoos, are too far off to be within their ken. they have not the knowledge necessary for suspecting the existence of those causes, much less for judging of their operation. the most essential interests of the country may be well administered without obtaining any of their approbation, or mismanaged to almost any excess without attracting their notice. the purposes for which they are principally tempted to interfere, and control the proceedings of their delegates, are of two kinds. one is to force english ideas down the throats of the natives; for instance, by measures of proselytism, or acts intentionally or unintentionally offensive to the religious feelings of the people. this misdirection of opinion in the ruling country is instructively exemplified (the more so, because nothing is meant but justice and fairness, and as much impartiality as can be expected from persons really convinced) by the demand now so general in england for having the bible taught, at the option of pupils or of their parents, in the government schools. from the european point of view nothing can wear a fairer aspect, or seem less open to objection on the score of religious freedom. to asiatic eyes it is quite another thing. no asiatic people ever believes that a government puts its paid officers and official machinery into motion unless it is bent upon an object; and when bent on an object, no asiatic believes that any government, except a feeble and contemptible one, pursues it by halves. if government schools and schoolmasters taught christianity, whatever pledges might be given of teaching it only to those who spontaneously sought it, no amount of evidence would ever persuade the parents that improper means were not used to make their children christians, or, at all events, outcasts from hindooism. if they could, in the end, be convinced of the contrary, it would only be by the entire failure of the schools, so conducted, to make any converts. if the teaching had the smallest effect in promoting its object, it would compromise not only the utility and even existence of the government education, but perhaps the safety of the government itself. an english protestant would not be easily induced, by disclaimers of proselytism, to place his children in a roman catholic seminary; irish catholics will not send their children to schools in which they can be made protestants; and we expect that hindoos, who believe that the privileges of hindooism can be forfeited by a merely physical act, will expose theirs to the danger of being made christians! such is one of the modes in which the opinion of the dominant country tends to act more injuriously than beneficially on the conduct of its deputed governors. in other respects, its interference is likely to be oftenest exercised where it will be most pertinaciously demanded, and that is, on behalf of some interest of the english settlers. english settlers have friends at home, have organs, have access to the public; they have a common language, and common ideas with their countrymen; any complaint by an englishman is more sympathetically heard, even if no unjust preference is intentionally accorded to it. now if there be a fact to which all experience testifies, it is that, when a country holds another in subjection, the individuals of the ruling people who resort to the foreign country to make their fortunes are of all others those who most need to be held under powerful restraint. they are always one of the chief difficulties of the government. armed with the _prestige_ and filled with the scornful overbearingness of the conquering nation, they have the feelings inspired by absolute power without its sense of responsibility. among a people like that of india, the utmost efforts of the public authorities are not enough for the effectual protection of the weak against the strong; and of all the strong, the european settlers are the strongest. wherever the demoralizing effect of the situation is not in a most remarkable degree corrected by the personal character of the individual, they think the people of the country mere dirt under their feet: it seems to them monstrous that any rights of the natives should stand in the way of their smallest pretensions; the simplest act of protection to the inhabitants against any act of power on their part which they may consider useful to their commercial objects they denounce, and sincerely regard as an injury. so natural is this state of feeling in a situation like theirs, that, even under the discouragement which it has hitherto met with from the ruling authorities, it is impossible that more or less of the spirit should not perpetually break out. the government, itself free from this spirit, is never able sufficiently to keep it down in the young and raw even of its own civil and military officers, over whom it has so much more control than over the independent residents. as it is with the english in india, so, according to trustworthy testimony, it is with the french in algiers; so with the americans in the countries conquered from mexico; so it seems to be with the europeans in china, and already even in japan: there is no necessity to recall how it was with the spaniards in south america. in all these cases, the government to which these private adventurers are subject is better than they, and does the most it can to protect the natives against them. even the spanish government did this, sincerely and earnestly, though ineffectually, as is known to every reader of mr. helps' instructive history. had the spanish government been directly accountable to spanish opinion, we may question if it would have made the attempt, for the spaniards, doubtless, would have taken part with their christian friends and relations rather than with pagans. the settlers, not the natives, have the ear of the public at home; it is they whose representations are likely to pass for truth, because they alone have both the means and the motive to press them perseveringly upon the inattentive and uninterested public mind. the distrustful criticism with which englishmen, more than any other people, are in the habit of scanning the conduct of their country towards foreigners, they usually reserve for the proceedings of the public authorities. in all questions between a government and an individual, the presumption in every englishman's mind is that the government is in the wrong. and when the resident english bring the batteries of english political action to bear upon any of the bulwarks erected to protect the natives against their encroachments, the executive, with their real but faint velleities of something better, generally find it safer to their parliamentary interest, and, at any rate, less troublesome, to give up the disputed position than to defend it. what makes matters worse is that, when the public mind is invoked (as, to its credit, the english mind is extremely open to be) in the name of justice and philanthropy in behalf of the subject community or race, there is the same probability of its missing the mark; for in the subject community also there are oppressors and oppressed--powerful individuals or classes, and slaves prostrate before them; and it is the former, not the latter, who have the means of access to the english public. a tyrant or sensualist who has been deprived of the power he had abused, and, instead of punishment, is supported in as great wealth and splendor as he ever enjoyed; a knot of privileged landholders, who demand that the state should relinquish to them its reserved right to a rent from their lands, or who resent as a wrong any attempt to protect the masses from their extortion--these have no difficulty in procuring interested or sentimental advocacy in the british parliament and press. the silent myriads obtain none. the preceding observations exemplify the operation of a principle--which might be called an obvious one, were it not that scarcely anybody seems to be aware of it--that, while responsibility to the governed is the greatest of all securities for good government, responsibility to somebody else not only has no such tendency, but is as likely to produce evil as good. the responsibility of the british rulers of india to the british nation is chiefly useful because, when any acts of the government are called in question, it insures publicity and discussion; the utility of which does not require that the public at large should comprehend the point at issue, provided there are any individuals among them who do; for a merely moral responsibility not being responsibility to the collective people, but to every separate person among them who forms a judgment, opinions may be weighed as well as counted, and the approbation or disapprobation of one person well versed in the subject may outweigh that of thousands who know nothing about it at all. it is doubtless a useful restraint upon the immediate rulers that they can be put upon their defense, and that one or two of the jury will form an opinion worth having about their conduct, though that of the remainder will probably be several degrees worse than none. such as it is, this is the amount of benefit to india from the control exercised over the indian government by the british parliament and people. it is not by attempting to rule directly a country like india, but by giving it good rulers, that the english people can do their duty to that country; and they can scarcely give it a worse one than an english cabinet minister, who is thinking of english, not indian politics; who does not remains long enough in office to acquire an intelligent interest in so complicated a subject; upon whom the factitious public opinion got up in parliament, consisting of two or three fluent speakers, acts with as much force as if it were genuine; while he is under none of the influences of training and position which would lead or qualify him to form an honest opinion of his own. a free country which attempts to govern a distant dependency, inhabited by a dissimilar people, by means of a branch of its own executive, will almost inevitably fail. the only mode which has any chance of tolerable success is to govern through a delegated body of a comparatively permanent character, allowing only a right of inspection and a negative voice to the changeable administration of the state. such a body did exist in the case of india; and i fear that both india and england will pay a severe penalty for the shortsighted policy by which this intermediate instrument of government was done away with. it is of no avail to say that such a delegated body can not have all the requisites of good government; above all, can not have that complete and over-operative identity of interest with the governed which it is so difficult to obtain even where the people to be ruled are in some degree qualified to look after their own affairs. real good government is not compatible with the conditions of the case. there is but a choice of imperfections. the problem is, so to construct the governing body that, under the difficulties of the position, it shall have as much interest as possible in good government, and as little in bad. now these conditions are best found in an intermediate body. a delegated administration has always this advantage over a direct one, that it has, at all events, no duty to perform except to the governed. it has no interests to consider except theirs. its own power of deriving profit from misgovernment may be reduced--in the latest constitution of the east india company it was reduced--to a singularly small amount; and it can be kept entirely clear of bias from the individual or class interests of any one else. when the home government and parliament are swayed by such partial influences in the exercise of the power reserved to them in the last resort, the intermediate body is the certain advocate and champion of the dependency before the imperial tribunal. the intermediate body, moreover, is, in the natural course of things, chiefly composed of persons who have acquired professional knowledge of this part of their country's concerns; who have been trained to it in the place itself, and have made its administration the main occupation of their lives. furnished with these qualifications, and not being liable to lose their office from the accidents of home politics, they identify their character and consideration with their special trust, and have a much more permanent interest in the success of their administration, and in the prosperity of the country which they administer, than a member of a cabinet under a representative constitution can possibly have in the good government of any country except the one which he serves. so far as the choice of those who carry on the management on the spot devolves upon this body, their appointment is kept out of the vortex of party and parliamentary jobbing, and freed from the influence of those motives to the abuse of patronage for the reward of adherents, or to buy off those who would otherwise be opponents, which are always stronger with statesmen of average honesty than a conscientious sense of the duty of appointing the fittest man. to put this one class of appointments as far as possible out of harm's way is of more consequence than the worst which can happen to all other offices in the state; for, in every other department, if the officer is unqualified, the general opinion of the community directs him in a certain degree what to do; but in the position of the administrators of a dependency where the people are not fit to have the control in their own hands, the character of the government entirely depends on the qualifications, moral and intellectual, of the individual functionaries. it can not be too often repeated that, in a country like india, every thing depends on the personal qualities and capacities of the agents of government. this truth is the cardinal principle of indian administration. the day when it comes to be thought that the appointment of persons to situations of trust from motives of convenience, already so criminal in england, can be practiced with impunity in india, will be the beginning of the decline and fall of our empire there. even with a sincere intention of preferring the best candidate, it will not do to rely on chance for supplying fit persons. the system must be calculated to form them. it has done this hitherto; and because it has done so, our rule in india has lasted, and been one of constant, if not very rapid improvement in prosperity and good administration. as much bitterness is now manifested against this system, and as much eagerness displayed to overthrow it, as if educating and training the officers of government for their work were a thing utterly unreasonable and indefensible, an unjustifiable interference with the rights of ignorance and inexperience. there is a tacit conspiracy between those who would like to job in first-rate indian offices for their connections here, and those who, being already in india, claim to be promoted from the indigo factory or the attorney's office to administer justice or fix the payments due to government from millions of people. the "monopoly" of the civil service, so much inveighed against, is like the monopoly of judicial offices by the bar; and its abolition would be like opening the bench in westminster hall to the first comer whose friends certify that he has now and then looked into blackstone. were the course ever adopted of sending men from this country, or encouraging them in going out, to get themselves put into high appointments without having learned their business by passing through the lower ones, the most important offices would be thrown to scotch cousins and adventurers, connected by no professional feeling with the country or the work, held to no previous knowledge, and eager only to make money rapidly and return home. the safety of the country is, that those by whom it is administered be sent out in youth, as candidates only, to begin at the bottom of the ladder, and ascend higher or not, as, after a proper interval, they are proved qualified. the defect of the east india company's system was that, though the best men were carefully sought out for the most important posts, yet, if an officer remained in the service, promotion, though it might be delayed, came at last in some shape or other, to the least as well as to the most competent. even the inferior in qualifications among such a corps of functionaries consisted, it must be remembered, of men who had been brought up to their duties, and had fulfilled them for many years, at lowest without disgrace, under the eye and authority of a superior. but, though this diminished the evil, it was nevertheless considerable. a man who never becomes fit for more than an assistant's duty should remain an assistant all his life, and his juniors should be promoted over him. with this exception, i am not aware of any real defect in the old system of indian appointments. it had already received the greatest other improvement it was susceptible of, the choice of the original candidates by competitive examination, which, besides the advantage of recruiting from a higher grade of industry and capacity, has the recommendation that under it, unless by accident, there are no personal ties between the candidates for offices and those who have a voice in conferring them. it is in no way unjust that public officers thus selected and trained should be exclusively eligible to offices which require specially indian knowledge and experience. if any door to the higher appointments, without passing through the lower, be opened even for occasional use, there will be such incessant knocking at it by persons of influence that it will be impossible ever to keep it closed. the only excepted appointment should be the highest one of all. the viceroy of british india should be a person selected from all englishmen for his great general capacity for government. if he have this, he will be able to distinguish in others, and turn to his own use, that special knowledge and judgment in local affairs which he has not himself had the opportunity of acquiring. there are good reasons why the viceroy should not be a member of the regular service. all services have, more or less, their class prejudices, from which the supreme ruler ought to be exempt. neither are men, however able and experienced, who have passed their lives in asia, so likely to possess the most advanced european ideas in general statesmanship, which the chief ruler should carry out with him, and blend with the results of indian experience. again, being of a different class, and especially if chosen by a different authority, he will seldom have any personal partialities to warp his appointments to office. this great security for honest bestowal of patronage existed in rare perfection under the mixed government of the crown and the east india company. the supreme dispensers of office--the governor general and governors--were appointed, in fact though not formally, by the crown, that is, by the general government, not by the intermediate body, and a great officer of the crown probably had not a single personal or political connection in the local service, while the delegated body, most of whom had themselves served in the country, had, and were likely to have, such connections. this guaranty for impartiality would be much impaired if the civil servants of government, even though sent out in boyhood as mere candidates for employment, should come to be furnished, in any considerable proportion, by the class of society which supplies viceroys and governors. even the initiatory competitive examination would then be an insufficient security. it would exclude mere ignorance and incapacity; it would compel youths of family to start in the race with the same amount of instruction and ability as other people; the stupidest son could not be put into the indian service, as he can be into the church; but there would be nothing to prevent undue preference afterwards. no longer, all equally unknown and unheard of by the arbiter of their lot, a portion of the service would be personally, and a still greater number politically, in close relation with him. members of certain families, and of the higher classes and influential connections generally, would rise more rapidly than their competitors, and be often kept in situations for which they were unfit, or placed in those for which others were fitter. the same influences would be brought into play which affect promotions in the army; and those alone, if such miracles of simplicity there be, who believe that these are impartial, would expect impartiality in those of india. this evil is, i fear, irremediable by any general measures which can be taken under the present system. no such will afford a degree of security comparable to that which once flowed spontaneously from the so-called double government. what is accounted so great an advantage in the case of the english system of government at home has been its misfortune in india--that it grew up of itself, not from preconceived design, but by successive expedients, and by the adaptation of machinery originally created for a different purpose. as the country on which its maintenance depended was not the one out of whose necessities it grew, its practical benefits did not come home to the mind of that country, and it would have required theoretic recommendations to render it acceptable. unfortunately, these were exactly what it seemed to be destitute of; and undoubtedly the common theories of government did not furnish it with such, framed as those theories have been for states of circumstances differing in all the most important features from the case concerned. but in government as in other departments of human agency, almost all principles which have been durable were first suggested by observation of some particular case, in which the general laws of nature acted in some new or previously unnoticed combination of circumstances. the institutions of great britain, and those of the united states, have the distinction of suggesting most of the theories of government which, through good and evil fortune, are now, in the course of generations, reawakening political life in the nations of europe. it has been the destiny of the government of the east india company to suggest the true theory of the government of a semi-barbarous dependency by a civilized country, and after having done this, to perish. it would be a singular fortune if, at the end of two or three more generations, this speculative result should be the only remaining fruit of our ascendancy in india; if posterity should say of us that, having stumbled accidentally upon better arrangements than our wisdom would ever have devised, the first use we made of our awakened reason was to destroy them, and allow the good which had been in course of being realized to fall through and be lost from ignorance of the principles on which it depended. _dî meliora;_ but if a fate so disgraceful to england and to civilization can be averted, it must be through far wider political conceptions than merely english or european practice can supply, and through a much more profound study of indian experience and of the conditions of indian government than either english politicians, or those who supply the english public with opinions, have hitherto shown any willingness to undertake. the end footnotes: [footnote : i limit the expression to past time, because i would say nothing derogatory of a great, and now at last a free, people, who are entering into the general movement of european progress with a vigor which bids fair to make up rapidly the ground they have lost. no one can doubt what spanish intellect and energy are capable of; and their faults as a people are chiefly those for which freedom and industrial ardor are a real specific.] [footnote : italy, which alone can be quoted as an exception, is only so in regard to the final stage of its transformation. the more difficult previous advance from the city isolation of florence, pisa, or milan, to the provincial unity of tuscany or lombardy, took place in the usual manner.] [footnote : this blunder of mr. disraeli (from which, greatly to his credit, sir john pakington took an opportunity soon after of separating himself) is a speaking instance, among many, how little the conservative leaders understand conservative principles. without presuming to require from political parties such an amount of virtue and discernment as that they should comprehend, and know when to apply, the principles of their opponents, we may yet say that it would be a great improvement if each party understood and acted upon its own. well would it be for england if conservatives voted consistently for every thing conservative, and liberals for every thing liberal. we should not then have to wait long for things which, like the present and many other great measures, are eminently both the one and the other. the conservatives, as being by the law of their existence the stupidest party, have much the greatest sins of this description to answer for; and it is a melancholy truth, that if any measure were proposed on any subject truly, largely, and far-sightedly conservative, even if liberals were willing to vote for it, the great bulk of the conservative party would rush blindly in and prevent it from being carried.] [footnote : "thoughts on parliamentary reform," nd ed. p. - .] [footnote : "this expedient has been recommended both on the score of saving expense and on that of obtaining the votes of many electors who otherwise would not vote, and who are regarded by the advocates of the plan as a particularly desirable class of voters. the scheme has been carried into practice in the election of poor-law guardians, and its success in that instance is appealed to in favor of adopting it in the more important case of voting for a member of the legislature. but the two cases appear to me to differ in the point on which the benefits of the expedient depend. in a local election for a special kind of administrative business, which consists mainly in the dispensation of a public fund, it is an object to prevent the choice from being exclusively in the hands of those who actively concern themselves about it; for the public interest which attaches to the election being of a limited kind, and in most cases not very great in degree, the disposition to make themselves busy in the matter is apt to be in a great measure confined to persons who hope to turn their activity to their own private advantage; and it may be very desirable to render the intervention of other people as little onerous to them as possible, if only for the purpose of swamping these private interests. but when the matter in hand is the great business of national government, in which every one must take an interest who cares for any thing out of himself, or who cares even for himself intelligently, it is much rather an object to prevent those from voting who are indifferent to the subject, than to induce them to vote by any other means than that of awakening their dormant minds. the voter who does not care enough about the election to go to the poll is the very man who, if he can vote without that small trouble, will give his vote to the first person who asks for it, or on the most trifling or frivolous inducement. a man who does not care whether he votes is not likely to care much which way he votes; and he who is in that state of mind has no moral right to vote at all; since, if he does so, a vote which is not the expression of a conviction, counts for as much, and goes as far in determining the result as one which represents the thoughts and purposes of a life."--_thoughts_, etc., p. .] [footnote : several of the witnesses before the committee of the house of commons in , on the operation of the corrupt practices prevention act, some of them of great practical experience in election matters, were favorable (either absolutely or as a last resort) to the principle of requiring a declaration from members of parliament, and were of opinion that, if supported by penalties, it would be, to a great degree, effectual. (_evidence_, pp. , - , , , - , .) the chief commissioner of the wakefield inquiry said (in reference certainly to a different proposal), "if they see that the legislature is earnest upon the subject, the machinery will work.... i am quite sure that if some personal stigma were applied upon conviction of bribery, it would change the current of public opinion" (pp. and ). a distinguished member of the committee (and of the present cabinet) seemed to think it very objectionable to attach the penalties of perjury to a merely promissory as distinguished from an assertory oath; but he was reminded that the oath taken by a witness in a court of justice is a promissory oath; and the rejoinder (that the witness's promise relates to an act to be done at once, while the member's would be a promise for all future time) would only be to the purpose if it could be supposed that the swearer might forget the obligation he had entered into, or could possibly violate it unawares: contingencies which, in a case like the present, are out of the question. a more substantial difficulty is, that one of the forms most frequently assumed by election expenditure is that of subscriptions to local charities or other local objects; and it would be a strong measure to enact that money should not be given in charity within a place by the member for it. when such subscriptions are _bonâ fide_, the popularity which may be derived from them is an advantage which it seems hardly possible to deny to superior riches. but the greatest part of the mischief consists in the fact that money so contributed is employed in bribery, under the euphonious name of keeping up the member's interest. to guard against this, it should be part of the member's promissory declaration that all sums expended by him in the place, or for any purpose connected with it or with any of its inhabitants (with the exception perhaps of his own hotel expenses) should pass through the hands of the election auditor, and be by him (and not by the member himself or his friends) applied to its declared purpose. the principle of making all lawful expenses of a charge, not upon the candidate, but upon the locality, was upheld by two of the best witnesses (pp. , - , ).] [footnote : "as mr. lorimer remarks, by creating a pecuniary inducement to persons of the lowest class to devote themselves to public affairs, the calling of the demagogue would be formally inaugurated. nothing is more to be deprecated than making it the private interest of a number of active persons to urge the form of government in the direction of its natural perversion. the indications which either a multitude or an individual can give when merely left to their own weaknesses, afford but a faint idea of what those weaknesses would become when played upon by a thousand flatterers. if there were places of certain, however moderate emolument, to be gained by persuading the multitude that ignorance is as good as knowledge, and better, it is terrible odds that they would believe and act upon the lesson."--(article in _fraser's magazine_ for april, , headed "recent writers on reform.")] [footnote : not always, however, the most recondite; for one of the latest denouncers of competitive examination in the house of commons had the _näiveté_ to produce a set of almost elementary questions in algebra, history, and geography, as a proof of the exorbitant amount of high scientific attainment which the commissioners were so wild as to exact.] [footnote : on liberty, concluding chapter; and, at greater length, in the final chapter of "principles of political economy."] [footnote : mr. calhoun.] [footnote : i am speaking here of the _adoption_ of this improved policy, not, of course, of its original suggestion. the honor of having been its earliest champion belongs unquestionably to mr. roebuck.] thomas paine by robert g. ingersoll thomas paine with his name left out, the history of liberty cannot be written. to speak the praises of the brave and thoughtful dead, is to me a labor of gratitude and love. through all the centuries gone, the mind of man has been beleaguered by the mailed hosts of superstition. slowly and painfully has advanced the army of deliverance. hated by those they wished to rescue, despised by those they were dying to save, these grand soldiers, these immortal deliverers, have fought without thanks, labored without applause, suffered without pity, and they have died execrated and abhorred. for the good of mankind they accepted isolation, poverty, and calumny. they gave up all, sacrificed all, lost all but truth and self-respect. one of the bravest soldiers in this army was thomas paine; and for one, i feel indebted to him for the liberty we are enjoying this day. born among the poor, where children are burdens; in a country where real liberty was unknown; where the privileges of class were guarded with infinite jealousy, and the rights of the individual trampled beneath the feet of priests and nobles; where to advocate justice was treason; where intellectual freedom was infidelity, it is wonderful that the idea of true liberty ever entered his brain. poverty was his mother--necessity his master. he had more brains than books; more sense than education; more courage than politeness; more strength than polish. he had no veneration for old mistakes--no admiration for ancient lies. he loved the truth for the truth's sake, and for man's sake. he saw oppression on every hand; injustice everywhere; hypocrisy at the altar, venality on the bench, tyranny on the throne; and with a splendid courage he espoused the cause of the weak against the strong--of the enslaved many against the titled few. in england he was nothing. he belonged to the lower classes. there was no avenue open for him. the people hugged their chains, and the whole power of the government was ready to crush any man who endeavored to strike a blow for the right. at the age of thirty-seven, thomas paine left england for america, with the high hope of being instrumental in the establishment of a free government. in his own country he could accomplish nothing. those two vultures--church and state--were ready to tear in pieces and devour the heart of any one who might deny their divine right to enslave the world. upon his arrival in this country, he found himself possessed of a letter of introduction, signed by another infidel, the illustrious franklin. this, and his native genius, constituted his entire capital; and he needed no more. he found the colonies clamoring for justice; whining about their grievances; upon their knees at the foot of the throne, imploring that mixture of idiocy and insanity, george the iii, by the grace of god, for a restoration of their ancient privileges. they were not endeavoring to become free men, but were trying to soften the heart of their master. they were perfectly willing to make brick if pharaoh would furnish the straw. the colonists wished for, hoped for, and prayed for recon-ciliation. they did not dream of independence. paine gave to the world his "common sense." it was the first argument for separation, the first assault upon the british _form_ of government, the first blow for a republic, and it aroused our fathers like a trumpet's blast he was the first to perceive the destiny of the new world. no other pamphlet ever accomplished such wonderful results. it was filled with argument, reason, persuasion, and unanswerable logic. it opened a new world. it filled the present with hope and the future with honor. everywhere the people responded, and in a few months the continental congress declared the colonies free and independent states. a new nation was born. it is simple justice to say that paine did more to cause the declaration of independence than any other man. neither should it be forgotten that his attacks upon great britain were also attacks upon monarchy; and while he convinced the people that the colonies ought to separate from the mother country, he also proved to them that a free government is the best that can be instituted among men. in my judgment, thomas paine was the best political writer that ever lived. "what he wrote was pure nature, and his soul and his pen ever went together." ceremony, pageantry, and all the paraphernalia of power, had no effect upon him. he examined into the why and wherefore of things. he was perfectly radical in his mode of thought. nothing short of the bed-rock satisfied him. his enthusiasm for what he believed to be right knew no bounds. during all the dark scenes of the revolution, never for one moment did he despair. year after year his brave words were ringing through the land, and by the bivouac fires the weary soldiers read the inspiring words of "common sense," filled with ideas sharper than their swords, and consecrated themselves anew to the cause of freedom. paine was not content with having aroused the spirit of independence, but he gave every energy of his soul to keep that spirit alive. he was with the army. he shared its defeats, its dangers, and its glory. when the situation became desperate, when gloom settled upon all, he gave them the "crisis." it was a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, leading the way to freedom, honor, and glory. he shouted to them, "these are the times that try men's souls. the summer soldier, and the sunshine patriot, will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman." to those who wished to put the war off to some future day, with a lofty and touching spirit of self-sacrifice he said: "every generous parent should say, 'if there must be war let it be in my day, that my child may have peace.'" to the cry that americans were rebels, he replied: "he that rebels against reason is a real rebel; but he that in defense of reason rebels against tyranny, has a better title to 'defender of the faith' than george the third." some said it was not to the interest of the colonies to be free. paine answered this by saying, "to know whether it be the interest of the continent to be independent, we need ask only this simple, easy question: 'is it the interest of a man to be a boy all his life?'" he found many who would listen to nothing, and to them he said, "that to argue with a man who has renounced his reason is like giving medicine to the dead." this sentiment ought to adorn the walls of every orthodox church. there is a world of political wisdom in this: "england lost her liberty in a long chain of right reasoning from wrong principles"; and there is real discrimination in saying, "the greeks and romans were strongly possessed of the spirit of liberty, but not the principles, for at the time that they were determined not to be slaves themselves, they employed their power to enslave the rest of mankind." in his letter to the british people, in which he tried to convince them that war was not to their interest, occurs the following passage brimful of common sense: "war never can be the interest of a trading nation any more than quarreling can be profitable to a man in business. but to make war with those who trade with us is like setting a bull-dog upon a customer at the shop-door." the writings of paine fairly glitter with simple, compact, logical statements, that carry conviction to the dullest and most prejudiced. he had the happiest possible way of putting the case; in asking questions in such a way that they answer themselves, and in stating his premises so clearly that the deduction could not be avoided. day and night he labored for america; month after month, year after year, he gave himself to the great cause, until there was "a government of the people and for the people," and until the banner of the stars floated over a continent redeemed, and consecrated to the happiness of mankind. at the close of the revolution, no one stood higher in america than thomas paine. the best, the wisest, the most patriotic, were his friends and admirers; and had he been thinking only of his own good he might have rested from his toils and spent the remainder of his life in comfort and in ease. he could have been what the world is pleased to call "respectable." he could have died surrounded by clergymen, warriors and statesmen. at his death there would have been an imposing funeral, miles of carriages, civic societies, salvos of artillery, a nation in mourning, and, above all, a splendid monument covered with lies. he chose rather to benefit mankind. at that time the seeds sown by the great infidels were beginning to bear fruit in france. the people were beginning to think. the eighteenth century was crowning its gray hairs with the wreath of progress. on every hand science was bearing testimony against the church. voltaire had filled europe with light; d'holbach was giving to the _élite_ of paris the principles contained in his "system of nature." the encyclopedists had attacked superstition with information for the masses. the foundation of things began to be examined. a few had the courage to keep their shoes on and let the bush burn. miracles began to get scarce. everywhere the people began to inquire. america had set an example to the world. the word liberty was in the mouths of men, and they began to wipe the dust from their knees. the dawn of a new day had appeared. thomas paine went to france. into the new movement he threw all his energies. his fame had gone before him, and he was welcomed as a friend of the human race, and as a champion of free government he had never relinquished his intention of pointing out to his countrymen the defects, absurdities and abuses of the english government for this purpose he composed and published his greatest political work, "the rights of man." this work should be read by every man and woman. it is concise, accurate, natural, convincing, and unanswerable. it shows great thought; an intimate knowledge of the various forms of government; deep insight into the very springs of human action, and a courage that compels respect and admiration. the most difficult political problems are solved in a few sentences. the venerable arguments in favor of wrong are refuted with a question--answered with a word. for forcible illustration, apt comparison, accuracy and clearness of statement, and absolute thoroughness, it has never been excelled. the fears of the administration were aroused, and paine was prosecuted for libel and found guilty; and yet there is not a sentiment in the entire work that will not challenge the admiration of every civilized man. it is a magazine of political wisdom, an arsenal of ideas, and an honor, not only to thomas paine, but to human nature itself. it could have been written only by the man who had the generosity, the exalted patriotism, the goodness to say, "the world is my country, and to do good my religion." there is in all the utterances of the world no grander, no sublimer sentiment. there is no creed that can be compared with it for a moment. it should be wrought in gold, adorned with jewels, and impressed upon every human heart: "the world is my country, and to do good my religion." in , paine was elected by the department of calais as their representative in the national assembly. so great was his popularity in france that he was selected about the same time by the people of no less than four departments. upon taking his place in the assembly he was appointed as one of a committee to draft a constitution for france. had the french people taken the advice of thomas paine there would have been no "reign of terror." the streets of paris would not have been filled with blood. the revolution would have been the grandest success of the world. the truth is that paine was too conservative to suit the leaders of the french revolution. they, to a great extent, were carried away by hatred, and a desire to destroy. they had suffered so long, they had borne so much, that it was impossible for them to be moderate in the hour of victory. besides all this, the french people had been so robbed by the government, so degraded by the church, that they were not fit material with which to construct a republic. many of the leaders longed to establish a beneficent and just government, but the people asked for revenge. paine was filled with a real love for mankind. his philanthropy was boundless. he wished to destroy monarchy--not the monarch. he voted for the destruction of tyranny, and against the death of the king. he wished to establish a government on a new basis; one that would forget the past; one that would give privileges to none, and protection to all. in the assembly, where nearly all were demanding the execution of the king--where to differ from the majority was to be suspected, and, where to be suspected was almost certain death thomas paine had the courage, the goodness and the justice to vote against death. to vote against the execution of the king was a vote against his own life. this was the sublimity of devotion to principle. for this he was arrested, imprisoned, and doomed to death. search the records of the world and you will find but few sublimer acts than that of thomas paine voting against the king's death. he, the hater of despotism, the abhorrer of monarchy, the champion of the rights of man, the republican, accepting death to save the life of a deposed tyrant--of a throneless king. this was the last grand act of his political life--the sublime conclusion of his political career. all his life he had been the disinterested friend of man. he had labored--not for money, not for fame, but for the general good. he had aspired to no office; had asked no recognition of his services, but had ever been content to labor as a common soldier in the army of progress. confining his efforts to no country, looking upon the world as his field of action, filled with a genuine love for the right, he found himself imprisoned by the very people he had striven to save. had his enemies succeeded in bringing him to the block, he would have escaped the calumnies and the hatred of the christian world. in this country, at least, he would have ranked with the proudest names. on the anniversary of the declaration his name would have been upon the lips of all the orators, and his memory in the hearts of all the people. thomas paine had not finished his career. he had spent his life thus far in destroying the power of kings, and now he turned his attention to the priests. he knew that every abuse had been embalmed in scripture--that every outrage was in partnership with some holy text. he knew that the throne skulked behind the altar, and both behind a pretended revelation from god. by this time he had found that it was of little use to free the body and leave the mind in chains. he had explored the foundations of despotism, and had found them infinitely rotten. he had dug under the throne, and it occurred to him that he would take a look behind the altar. the result of his investigations was given to the world in the "age of reason." from the moment of its publication he became infamous. he was calumniated beyond measure. to slander him was to secure the thanks of the church. all his services were instantly forgotten, disparaged or denied. he was shunned as though he had been a pestilence. most of his old friends forsook him. he was regarded as a moral plague, and at the bare mention of his name the bloody hands of the church were raised in horror. he was denounced as the most despicable of men. not content with following him to his grave, they pursued him after death with redoubled fury, and recounted with infinite gusto and satisfaction the supposed horrors of his death-bed; gloried in the fact that he was forlorn and friendless, and gloated like fiends over what they supposed to be the agonizing remorse of his lonely death. it is wonderful that all his services were thus forgotten. it is amazing that one kind word did not fall from some pulpit; that some one did not accord to him, at least--honesty. strange, that in the general denunciation some one did not remember his labor for liberty, his devotion to principle, his zeal for the rights of his fellow-men. he had: by brave and splendid effort, associated his name with the cause of progress. he had made it impossible to write the history of political freedom with his name left out. he was one of the creators of light; one of the heralds of the dawn. he hated tyranny in the name of kings, and in the name of god, with every drop of his noble blood. he believed in liberty and justice, and in the sacred doctrine of human equality. under these divine banners he fought the battle of his life. in both worlds he offered his blood for the good of man. in the wilderness of america, in the french assembly, in the sombre cell waiting for death, he was the same unflinching, unwavering friend of his race; the same undaunted champion of universal freedom. and for this he has been hated for this the church has violated even his grave. this is enough to make one believe that nothing is more natural than for men to devour their benefactors. the people in all ages have crucified and glorified. whoever lifts his voice against abuses, whoever arraigns the past at the bar of the present, whoever asks the king to show his commission, or questions the authority of the priest, will be denounced as the enemy of man and god. in all ages reason has been regarded as the enemy of religion. nothing has been considered so pleasing to the deity as a total denial of the authority of your own mind. self-reliance has been thought a deadly sin; and the idea of living and dying without the aid and consolation of superstition has always horrified the church. by some unaccountable infatuation, belief has been and still is considered of immense importance. all religions have been based upon the idea that god will forever reward the true believer, and eternally damn the man who doubts or denies. belief is regarded as the one essential thing. to practice justice, to love mercy, is not enough. you must believe in some incomprehensible creed. you must say, "once one is three, and three times one is one." the man who practiced every virtue, but failed to believe, was execrated. nothing so outrages the feelings of the church as a moral unbeliever--nothing so horrible as a charitable atheist. when paine was born, the world was religious, the pulpit was the real throne, and the churches were making every effort to crush out of the brain the idea that it had the right to think. the splendid saying of lord bacon, that "the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making or wooing of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, are the sovereign good of human nature," has been, and ever will be, rejected by religionists. intellectual liberty, as a matter of necessity, forever destroys the idea that belief is either praise or blame-worthy, and is wholly inconsistent with every creed in christendom. paine recognized this truth. he also saw that as long as the bible was considered inspired, this infamous doctrine of the virtue of belief would be believed and preached. he examined the scriptures for himself, and found them filled with cruelty, absurdity and immorality. he again made up his mind to sacrifice himself for the good of his fellow-men. he commenced with the assertion, "that any system of religion that has anything in it that shocks the mind of a child cannot be a true system." what a beautiful, what a tender sentiment! no wonder the church began to hate him. he believed in one god, and no more. after this life he hoped for happiness. he believed that true religion consisted in doing justice, loving mercy, in endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy, and in offering to god the fruit of the heart. he denied the inspiration of the scriptures. this was his crime. he contended that it is a contradiction in terms to call anything a revelation that comes to us second-hand, either verbally or in writing. he asserted that revelation is necessarily limited to the first communication, and that after that it is only an account of something which another person says was a revelation to him. we have only his word for it, as it was never made to us. this argument never has been and probably never will be answered. he denied the divine origin of christ, and showed conclusively that the pretended prophecies of the old testament had no reference to him whatever; and yet he believed that christ was a virtuous and amiable man; that the morality he taught and practiced was of the most benevolent and elevated character, and that it had not been exceeded by any. upon this point he entertained the same sentiments now held by the unitarians, and in fact by all the most enlightened christians. in his time the church believed and taught that every word in the bible was absolutely true. since his day it has been proven false in its cosmogony, false in its astronomy, false in its chronology, false in its history, and so far as the old testament is concerned, false in almost everything. there are but few, if any, scientific men who apprehend that the bible is literally true. who on earth at this day would pretend to settle any scientific question by a text from the bible? the old belief is confined to the ignorant and zealous. the church itself will before long be driven to occupy the position of thomas paine. the best minds of the orthodox world, to-day, are endeavoring to prove the existence of a personal deity. all other questions occupy a minor place. you are no longer asked to swallow the bible whole, whale, jonah and all; you are simply required to believe in god, and pay your pew-rent. there is not now an enlightened minister in the world who will seriously contend that samson's strength was in his hair, or that the necromancers of egypt could turn water into blood, and pieces of wood into serpents. these follies have passed away, and the only reason that the religious world can now have for disliking paine is that they have been forced to adopt so many of his opinions. paine thought the barbarities of the old testament inconsistent with what he deemed the real character of god. he believed that murder, massacre and indiscriminate slaughter had never been commanded by the deity. he regarded much of the bible as childish, unimportant and foolish, the scientific world entertains the same opinion, paine attacked the bible precisely in the same spirit in which he had attacked the pretensions of kings. he used the same weapons. all the pomp in the world could not make him cower. his reason knew no "holy of holies," except the abode of truth. the sciences were then in their infancy. the attention of the really learned had not been directed to an impartial examination of our pretended revelation. it was accepted by most as a matter of course. the church was all-powerful, and no one, unless thoroughly imbued with the spirit of self-sacrifice, thought for a moment of disputing the fundamental doctrines of christianity. the infamous doctrine that salvation depends upon belief--upon a mere intellectual conviction--was then believed and preached. to doubt was to secure the damnation of your soul. this absurd and devilish doctrine shocked the common sense of thomas paine, and he denounced it with the fervor of honest indignation. this doctrine, although infinitely ridiculous, has been nearly universal, and has been as hurtful as senseless. for the overthrow of this infamous tenet, paine exerted all his strength. he left few arguments to be used by those who should come after him, and he used none that have been refuted. the combined wisdom and genius of all mankind cannot possibly conceive of an argument against liberty of thought. neither can they show why any one should be punished, either in this world or another, for acting honestly in accordance with reason; and yet a doctrine with every possible argument against it has been, and still is, believed and defended by the entire orthodox world. can it be possible that we have been endowed with reason simply that our souls may be caught in its toils and snares, that we may be led by its false and delusive glare out of the narrow path that leads to joy into the broad way of everlasting death? is it possible that we have been given reason simply that we may through faith ignore its deductions, and avoid its conclusions? ought the sailor to throw away his compass and depend entirely upon the fog? if reason is not to be depended upon in matters of religion, that is to say, in respect of our duties to the deity, why should it be relied upon in matters respecting the rights of our fellows? why should we throw away the laws given to moses by god himself and have the audacity to make some of our own? how dare we drown the thunders of sinai by calling the ayes and noes in a petty legislature? if reason can determine what is merciful, what is just, the duties of man to man, what more do we want either in time or eternity? down, forever down, with any religion that requires upon its ignorant altar the sacrifice of the goddess reason, that compels her to abdicate forever the shining throne of the soul, strips from her form the imperial purple, snatches from her hand the sceptre of thought and makes her the bond-woman of a senseless faith! if a man should tell you that he had the most beautiful painting in the world, and after taking you where it was should insist upon having your eyes shut, you would likely suspect, either that he had no painting or that it was some pitiable daub. should he tell you that he was a most excellent performer on the violin, and yet refuse to play unless your ears were stopped, you would think, to say the least of it, that he had an odd way of convincing you of his musical ability. but would his conduct be any more wonderful than that of a religionist who asks that before examining his creed you will have the kindness to throw away your reason? the first gentleman says, "keep your eyes shut, my picture will bear everything but being seen;" "keep your ears stopped, my music objects to nothing but being heard." the last says, "away with your reason, my religion dreads nothing but being understood." so far as i am concerned, i most cheerfully admit that most christians are honest, and most ministers sincere. we do not attack them; we attack their creed. we accord to them the same rights that we ask for ourselves. we believe that their doctrines are hurtful. we believe that the frightful text, "he that believes shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned," has covered the earth with blood. it has filled the heart with arrogance, cruelty and murder. it has caused the religious wars; bound hundreds of thousands to the stake; founded inquisitions; filled dungeons; invented instruments of torture; taught the mother to hate her child; imprisoned the mind; filled the world with ignorance; persecuted the lovers of wisdom; built the monasteries and convents; made happiness a crime, investigation a sin, and self-reliance a blasphemy. it has poisoned the springs of learning; misdirected the energies of the world; filled all countries with want; housed the people in hovels; fed them with famine; and but for the efforts of a few brave infidels it would have taken the world back to the midnight of barbarism, and left the heavens without a star. the maligners of paine say that he had no right to attack this doctrine, because he was unacquainted with the dead languages; and for this reason, it was a piece of pure impudence in him to investigate the scriptures. is it necessary to understand hebrew in order to know that cruelty is not a virtue, that murder is inconsistent with infinite goodness, and that eternal punishment can be inflicted upon man only by an eternal fiend? is it really essential to conjugate the greek verbs before you can make up your mind as to the probability of dead people getting out of their graves? must one be versed in latin before he is entitled to express his opinion as to the genuineness of a pretended revelation from god? common sense belongs exclusively to no tongue. logic is not confined to, nor has it been buried with, the dead languages. paine attacked the bible as it is translated. if the translation is wrong, let its defenders correct it. the christianity of paine's day is not the christianity of our time. there has been a great improvement since then. one hundred and fifty years ago the foremost preachers of our time would have perished at the stake. a universalist would have been torn in pieces in england, scotland, and america. unitarians would have found themselves in the stocks, pelted by the rabble with dead cats, after which their ears would have been cut off, their tongues bored, and their foreheads branded. less than one hundred and fifty years ago the following law was in force in maryland: "be it enacted by the right honorable, the lord proprietor, by and with the advice and consent of his lordship's governor, and the upper and lower houses of the assembly, and the authority of the same: "that if any person shall hereafter, within this province, wittingly, maliciously, and advisedly, by writing or speaking, blaspheme or curse god, or deny our saviour, jesus christ, to be the son of god, or shall deny the holy trinity, the father, son, and holy ghost, or the godhead of any of the three persons, or the unity of the godhead, or shall utter any profane words concerning the holy trinity, or any of the persons thereof, and shall thereof be convict by verdict, shall, for the first offense, be bored through the tongue, and fined twenty pounds to be levied of his body. and for the second offense, the offender shall be stigmatized by burning in the forehead with the letter b, and fined forty pounds. and that for the third offense, the offender shall suffer death without the benefit of clergy." the strange thing about this law is, that it has never been repealed, and is still in force in the district of columbia laws like this were in force in most of the colonies, and in all countries where the church had power. in the old testament, the death penalty was attached to hundreds of offenses. it has been the same in all christian countries. to-day, in civilized governments, the death penalty is attached only to murder and treason; and in some it has been entirely abolished. what a commentary upon the divine systems of the world! in the day of thomas paine, the church was ignorant, bloody and relentless. in scotland the "kirk" was at the summit of its power. it was a full sister of the spanish inquisition. it waged war upon human nature. it was the enemy of happiness, the hater of joy, and the despiser of religious liberty. it taught parents to murder their children rather than to allow them to propagate error. if the mother held opinions of which the infamous "kirk" disapproved, her children were taken from her arms, her babe from her very bosom, and she was not allowed to see them, or to write them a word. it would not allow shipwrecked sailors to be rescued from drowning on sunday. it sought to annihilate pleasure, to pollute the heart by filling it with religious cruelty and gloom, and to change mankind into a vast horde of pious, heartless fiends. one of the most famous scotch divines said: "the kirk holds that religious toleration is not far from blasphemy." and this same scotch kirk denounced, beyond measure, the man who had the moral grandeur to say, "the world is my country, and to do good my religion." and this same kirk abhorred the man who said, "any system of religion that shocks the mind of a child cannot be a true system." at that time nothing so delighted the church as the beauties of endless torment, and listening to the weak wailings of damned infants struggling in the slimy coils and poison-folds of the worm that never dies. about the beginning of the nineteenth century, a boy by the name of thomas aikenhead, was indicted and tried at edinburgh for having denied the inspiration of the scriptures, and for having, on several occasions, when cold, wished himself in hell that he might get warm. notwithstanding the poor boy recanted and begged for mercy, he was found guilty and hanged. his body was thrown in a hole at the foot of the scaffold and covered with stones. prosecutions and executions like this were common in every christian country, and all of them were based upon the belief that an intellectual conviction is a crime. no wonder the church hated and traduced the author of the "age of reason." england was filled with puritan gloom and episcopal ceremony. all religious conceptions were of the grossest nature. the ideas of crazy fanatics and extravagant poets were taken as sober facts. milton had clothed christianity in the soiled and faded finery of the gods--had added to the story of christ the fables of mythology. he gave to the protestant church the most outrageously material ideas of the deity. he turned all the angels into soldiers--made heaven a battlefield, put christ in uniform, and described god as a militia general. his works were considered by the protestants nearly as sacred as the bible itself, and the imagination of the people was thoroughly polluted by the horrible imagery, the sublime absurdity of the blind milton. heaven and hell were realities--the judgment-day was expected--books of account would be opened. every man would hear the charges against him read. god was supposed to sit on a golden throne, surrounded by the tallest angels, with harps in their hands and crowns on their heads. the goats would be thrust into eternal fire on the left, while the orthodox sheep, on the right, were to gambol on sunny slopes forever and forever. the nation was profoundly ignorant, and consequently extremely religious, so far as belief was concerned. in europe, liberty was lying chained in the inquisition--her white bosom stained with blood. in the new world the puritans had been hanging and burning in the name of god, and selling white quaker children into slavery in the name of christ, who said, "suffer little children to come unto me." under such conditions progress was impossible. some one had to lead the way. the church is, and always has been, incapable of a forward movement. religion always looks back. the church has already reduced spain to a guitar, italy to a hand-organ, and ireland to exile. some one not connected with the church had to attack the monster that was eating out the heart of the world. some one had to sacrifice himself for the good of all. the people were in the most abject slavery; their manhood had been taken from them by pomp, by pageantry and power. progress is born of doubt and inquiry. the church never doubts--never inquires. to doubt is heresy--to inquire is to admit that you do not know--the church does neither. more than a century ago catholicism, wrapped in robes red with the innocent blood of millions, holding in her frantic clutch crowns and scepters, honors and gold, the keys of heaven and hell, trampling beneath her feet the liberties of nations, in the proud moment of almost universal dominion, felt within her heartless breast the deadly dagger of voltaire. from that blow the church never can recover. livid with hatred she launched her eternal anathema at the great destroyer, and ignorant protestants have echoed the curse of rome. in our country the church was all-powerful, and although divided into many sects, would instantly unite to repel a common foe. paine struck the first grand blow. the "age of reason" did more to undermine the power of the protestant church than all other books then known. it furnished an immense amount of food for thought. it was written for the average mind, and is a straightforward, honest investigation of the bible, and of the christian system. paine did not falter, from the first page to the last. he gives you his candid thought, and candid thoughts are always valuable. the "age of reason" has liberalized us all. it put arguments in the mouths of the people; it put the church on the defensive; it enabled somebody in every village to corner the parson; it made the world wiser, and the church better; it took power from the pulpit and divided it among the pews. just in proportion that the human race has advanced, the church has lost power. there is no exception to this rule. no nation ever materially advanced that held strictly to the religion of its founders. no nation ever gave itself wholly to the control of the church without losing its power its honor, and existence. every church pretends to have found the exact truth. this is the end of progress. why pursue that which you have? why investigate when you know? every creed is a rock in running water: humanity sweeps by it. every creed cries to the universe, "halt!" a creed is the ignorant past bullying the enlightened present the ignorant are not satisfied with what can be demonstrated. science is too slow for them, and so they invent creeds. they demand completeness. a sublime segment, a grand fragment, are of no value to them. they demand the complete circle--the entire structure. in music they want a melody with a recurring accent at measured periods. in religion they insist upon immediate answers to the questions of creation and destiny. the alpha and omega of all things must be in the alphabet of their superstition. a religion that cannot answer every question, and guess every conundrum is, in their estimation, worse than worthless. they desire a kind of theological dictionary--a religious ready reckoner, together with guide-boards at all crossings and turns. they mistake impudence for authority, solemnity for wisdom, and bathos for inspiration. the beginning and the end are what they demand. the grand flight of the eagle is nothing to them. they want the nest in which he was hatched, and especially the dry limb upon which he roosts. anything that can be learned is hardly worth knowing. the present is considered of no value in itself. happiness must not be expected this side of the clouds, and can only be attained by self-denial and faith; not self-denial for the good of others, but for the salvation of your own sweet self. paine denied the authority of bibles and creeds; this was his crime, and for this the world shut the door in his face, and emptied its slops upon him from the windows. i challenge the world to show that thomas paine ever wrote one line, one word in favor of tyranny--in favor of immorality; one line, one word against what he believed to be for the highest and best interest of mankind; one line, one word against justice, charity, or liberty, and yet he has been pursued as though he had been a fiend from hell. his memory has been execrated as though he had murdered some uriah for his wife; driven some hagar into the desert to starve with his child upon her bosom; defiled his own daughters; ripped open with the sword the sweet bodies of loving and innocent women; advised one brother to assassinate another; kept a harem with seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines, or had persecuted christians even unto strange cities. the church has pursued paine to deter others. no effort has been in any age of the world spared to crush out opposition. the church used painting, music and architecture, simply to degrade mankind. but there are men that nothing can awe. there have been at all times brave spirits that dared even the gods. some proud head has always been above the waves. in every age some diogenes has sacrificed to all the gods. true genius never cowers, and there is always some samson feeling for the pillars of authority. cathedrals and domes, and chimes and chants--temples frescoed and groined and carved, and gilded with gold--altars and tapers, and paintings of virgin and babe--censer and chalice--chasuble, paten and alb--organs, and anthems and incense rising to the winged and blest--maniple, amice and stole--crosses and crosiers, tiaras and crowns--mitres and missals and masses--rosaries, relics and robes--martyrs and saints, and windows stained as with the blood of christ--never, never for one moment awed the brave, proud spirit of the infidel. he knew that all the pomp and glitter had been purchased with liberty--that priceless jewel of the soul. in looking at the cathedral he remembered the dungeon. the music of the organ was not loud enough to drown the clank of fetters. he could not forget that the taper had lighted the fagot. he knew that the cross adorned the hilt of the sword, and so where others worshiped, he wept and scorned. the doubter, the investigator, the infidel, have been the saviors of liberty. this truth is beginning to be realized, and the truly intellectual are honoring the brave thinkers of the past. but the church is as unforgiving as ever, and still wonders why any infidel should be wicked enough to endeavor to destroy her power. i will tell the church why. you have imprisoned the human mind; you have been the enemy of liberty; you have burned us at the stake--wasted us upon slow fires--torn our flesh with iron; you have covered us with chains--treated us as outcasts; you have filled the world with fear; you have taken our wives and children from our arms; you have confiscated our property; you have denied us the right to testify in courts of justice; you have branded us with infamy; you have torn out our tongues; you have refused us burial. in the name of your religion, you have robbed us of every right; and after having inflicted upon us every evil that can be inflicted in this world, you have fallen upon your knees, and with clasped hands implored your god to torment us forever. can you wonder that we hate your doctrines--that we despise your creeds--that we feel proud to know that we are beyond your power--that we are free in spite of you--that we can express our honest thought, and that the whole world is grandly rising into the blessed light? can you wonder that we point with pride to the fact that infidelity has ever been found battling for the rights of man, for the liberty of conscience, and for the happiness of all? can you wonder that we are proud to know that we have always been disciples of reason, and soldiers of freedom; that we have denounced tyranny and superstition, and have kept our hands unstained with human blood? we deny that religion is the end or object of this life. when it is so considered it becomes destructive of happiness--the real end of life. it becomes a hydra-headed monster, reaching in terrible coils from the heavens, and thrusting its thousand fangs into the bleeding,%quivering hearts of men. it devours their substance, builds palaces for god, (who dwells not in temples made with hands,) and allows his children to die in huts and hovels. it fills the earth with mourning, heaven with hatred, the present with fear, and all the future with despair. virtue is a subordination of the passions to the intellect. it is to act in accordance with your highest convictions. it does not consist in believing, but in doing. this is the sublime truth that the infidels in all ages have uttered. they have handed the torch from one to the other through all the years that have fled. upon the altar of reason they have kept the sacred fire, and through the long midnight of faith they fed the divine flame. infidelity is liberty; all religion is slavery. in every creed man is the slave of god--woman is the slave of man and the sweet children are the slaves of all. we do not want creeds; we want knowledge--we want happiness. and yet we are told by the church that we have accomplished nothing; that we are simply destroyers; that we tear down without building again. is it nothing to free the mind? is it nothing to civilize mankind? is it nothing to fill the world with light, with discovery, with science? is it nothing to dignify man and exalt the intellect? is it nothing to grope your way into the dreary prisons, the damp and dropping dungeons, the dark and silent cells of superstition, where the souls of men are chained to floors of stone; to greet them like a ray of light, like the song of a bird, the murmur of a stream; to see the dull eyes open and grow slowly bright; to feel yourself grasped by the shrunken and unused hands, and hear yourself thanked by a strange and hollow voice? is it nothing to conduct these souls gradually into the blessed light of day--to let them see again the happy fields, the sweet, green earth, and hear the everlasting music of the waves? is it nothing to make men wipe the dust from their swollen knees, the tears from their blanched and furrowed cheeks? is it a small thing to reave the heavens of an insatiate monster and write upon the eternal dome, glittering with stars, the grand word--freedom? is it a small thing to quench the flames of hell with the holy tears of pity--to unbind the martyr from the stake--break all the chains --put out the fires of civil war--stay the sword of the fanatic, and tear the bloody hands of the church from the white throat of science? is it a small thing to make men truly free--to destroy the dogmas of ignorance, prejudice and power--the poisoned fables of superstition, and drive from the beautiful face of the earth the fiend of fear? it does seem as though the most zealous christian must at times entertain some doubt as to the divine origin of his religion. for eighteen hundred years the doctrine has been preached. for more than a thousand years the church had, to a great extent, the control of the civilized world, and what has been the result? are the christian nations patterns of charity and forbearance? on the contrary, their principal business is to destroy each other. more than five millions of christians are trained, educated, and drilled to murder their fellow-christians. every nation is groaning under a vast debt incurred in carrying on war against other christians, or defending itself from christian assault. the world is covered with forts to protect christians from christians, and every sea is covered with iron monsters ready to blow christian brains into eternal froth. millions upon millions are annually expended in the effort to construct still more deadly and terrible engines of death. industry is crippled, honest toil is robbed, and even beggary is taxed to defray the expenses of christian warfare. there must be some other way to reform this world. we have tried creed, and dogma and fable, and they have failed; and they have failed in all the nations dead. the people perish for the lack of knowledge. nothing but education--scientific education--can benefit mankind. we must find out the laws of nature and conform to them. we need free bodies and free minds,--free labor and free thought,--chainless hands and fetterless brains. free labor will give us wealth. free thought will give us truth. we need men with moral courage to speak and write their real thoughts, and to stand by their convictions, even to the very death. we need have no fear of being too radical. the future will verify all grand and brave predictions. paine was splendidly in advance of his time; but he was orthodox compared with the infidels of to-day. science, the great iconoclast, has been busy since , and by the highway of progress are the broken images of the past. on every hand the people advance. the vicar of god has been pushed from the throne of the caesars, and upon the roofs of the eternal city falls once more the shadow of the eagle. all has been accomplished by the heroic few. the men of science have explored heaven and earth, and with infinite patience have furnished the facts. the brave thinkers have used them. the gloomy caverns of superstition have been transformed into temples of thought, and the demons of the past are the angels of to-day. science took a handful of sand, constructed a telescope, and with it explored the starry depths of heaven. science wrested from the gods their thunderbolts; and now, the electric spark, freighted with thought and love, flashes under all the waves of the sea. science took a tear from the cheek of unpaid labor, converted it into steam, created a giant that turns with tireless arm, the countless wheels of toil. thomas paine was one of the intellectual heroes--one of the men to whom we are indebted. his name is associated forever with the great republic as long as free government exists he will be remembered, admired and honored. he lived a long, laborious and useful life. the world is better for his having lived. for the sake of truth he accepted hatred and reproach for his portion. he ate the bitter bread of sorrow. his friends were untrue to him because he was true to himself, and true to them. he lost the respect of what is called society, but kept his own. his life is what the world calls failure and what history calls success. if to love your fellow-men more than self is goodness, thomas paine was good. if to be in advance of your time--to be a pioneer in the direction of right--is greatness, thomas paine was great. if to avow your principles and discharge your duty in the presence of death is heroic, thomas paine was a hero. at the age of seventy-three, death touched his tired heart. he died in the land his genius defended--under the flag he gave to the skies. slander cannot touch him now--hatred cannot reach him more. he sleeps in the sanctuary of the tomb, beneath the quiet of the stars. a few more years--a few more brave men--a few more rays of light, and mankind will venerate the memory of him who said: "any system of religion that shocks the mind of a child cannot be a true system;" "the world is my country, and to do good my religion." the writings of thomas paine by thomas paine edited by moncure daniel conway volume iii. - g. p. putnam's sons new york london copyright, by g. p. putnam's sons contents. introduction to the third volume i. the republican proclamation ii. to the authors of "le républicain" iii. to the abbe sieyes iv. to the attorney general v. to mr. secretary dundas vi. letters to onslow cranley vii. to the sheriff of the county of sussex viii. to mr. secretary dundas ix. letter addressed to the addressers on the late proclamation x. address to the people of france xi. anti-monarchal essay xii. to the attorney general, on the prosecution against the second part of rights of man xiii. on the propriety of bringing louis xvi to trial xiv. reasons for preserving the life of louis capet xv. shall louis xvi. have respite? xvi. declaration of rights. xvii. private letters to jefferson xviii. letters to danton xix. a citizen of america to the citizens of europe xx. appeal to the convention xxi. the memorial to monroe xxii. letter to george washington xxiii. observations xxiv. dissertation on first principles of government xxv. the constitution of xxvi. the decline and fall of the english system of finance xxvii. forgetfulness xxviii. agrarian justice xxix. the eighteenth fructidor xxx. the recall of monroe xxxi. private letter to president jefferson xxxii. proposal that louisiana be purchased xxxiii. thomas paine to the citizens of the united states xxxiv. to the french inhabitants of louisiana introduction to the third volume. with historical notes and documents. in a letter of lafayette to washington ("paris, jan., ") he writes: "_common sense_ is writing for you a brochure where you will see a part of my adventures." it thus appears that the narrative embodied in the reply to burke ("rights of man," part i.), dedicated to washington, was begun with lafayette's collaboration fourteen months before its publication (march , ). in another letter of lafayette to washington (march , ) he writes: "to mr. paine, who leaves for london, i entrust the care of sending you my news.... permit me, my dear general, to offer you a picture representing the bastille as it was some days after i gave the order for its demolition. i also pay you the homage of sending you the principal key of that fortress of despotism. it is a tribute i owe as a son to my adoptive father, as aide-de-camp to my general, as a missionary of liberty to his patriarch." the key was entrusted to paine, and by him to j. rut-ledge, jr., who sailed from london in may. i have found in the manuscript despatches of louis otto, chargé d' affaires, several amusing paragraphs, addressed to his govern-ment at paris, about this key. "august , . in attending yesterday the public audience of the president, i was surprised by a question from the chief magistrate, 'whether i would like to see the key of the bastille?' one of his secretaries showed me at the same moment a large key, which had been sent to the president by desire of the marquis de la fayette. i dissembled my surprise in observing to the president that 'the time had not yet come in america to do ironwork equal to that before him.' the americans present looked at the key with indifference, and as if wondering why it had been sent but the serene face of the president showed that he regarded it as an homage from the french nation." "december , . the key of the bastille, regularly shown at the president's audiences, is now also on exhibition in mrs. washington's _salon_, where it satisfies the curiosity of the philadelphians. i am persuaded, monseigneur, that it is only their vanity that finds pleasure in the exhibition of this trophy, but frenchmen here are not the less piqued, and many will not enter the president's house on this account." in sending the key paine, who saw farther than these distant frenchmen, wrote to washington: "that the principles of america opened the bastille is not to be doubted, and therefore the key comes to the right place." early in may, (the exact date is not given), lafayette writes washington: "i send you the rather indifferent translation of mr. paine as a kind of preservative and to keep me near you." this was a hasty translation of "rights of man," part i., by f. soûles, presently superseded by that of lanthenas. the first convert of paine to pure republicanism in france was achille duchâtelet, son of the duke, and grandson of the authoress,--the friend of voltaire. it was he and paine who, after the flight of louis xvi., placarded paris with the proclamation of a republic, given as the first chapter of this volume. an account of this incident is here quoted from etienne dumont's "recollections of mirabeau": "the celebrated paine was at this time in paris, and intimate in condorcet's family. thinking that he had effected the american revolution, he fancied himself called upon to bring about one in france. duchâtelet called on me, and after a little preface placed in my hand an english manuscript--a proclamation to the french people. it was nothing less than an anti-royalist manifesto, and summoned the nation to seize the opportunity and establish a republic. paine was its author. duchâtelet had adopted and was resolved to sign, placard the walls of paris with it, and take the consequences. he had come to request me to translate and develop it. i began discussing the strange proposal, and pointed out the danger of raising a republican standard without concurrence of the national assembly, and nothing being as yet known of the king's intentions, resources, alliances, and possibilities of support by the army, and in the provinces. i asked if he had consulted any of the most influential leaders,--sieves, lafayette, etc. he had not: he and paine had acted alone. an american and an impulsive nobleman had put themselves forward to change the whole governmental system of france. resisting his entreaties, i refused to translate the proclamation. next day the republican proclamation appeared on the walls in every part of paris, and was denounced to the assembly. the idea of a republic had previously presented itself to no one: this first intimation filled with consternation the right and the moderates of the left. malouet, cazales, and others proposed prosecution of the author, but chapelier, and a numerous party, fearing to add fuel to the fire instead of extinguishing it, prevented this. but some of the seed sown by the audacious hand of paine were now budding in leading minds." a republican club was formed in july, consisting of five members, the others who joined themselves to paine and duchâtelet being condorcet, and probably lanthenas (translator of paine's works), and nicolas de bonneville. they advanced so far as to print "le républicain," of which, however, only one number ever appeared. from it is taken the second piece in this volume. early in the year paine lodged in the house and book-shop of thomas "clio" rickman, now as then upper marylebone street. among his friends was the mystical artist and poet, william blake. paine had become to him a transcendental type; he is one of the seven who appear in blake's "prophecy" concerning america ( ): "the guardian prince of albion burns in his nightly tent sullen fires across the atlantic glow to america's shore; piercing the souls of warlike men, who rise in silent night:-- washington, franklin, paine, and warren, gates, hancock, and greene, meet on the coast glowing with blood from albion's fiery prince." the seven are wrapt in the flames of their enthusiasm. albion's prince sends to america his thirteen angels, who, however, there become governors of the thirteen states. it is difficult to discover from blake's mystical visions how much political radicalism was in him, but he certainly saved paine from the scaffold by forewarning him (september , ) that an order had been issued for his arrest. without repeating the story told in gilchrist's "life of blake," and in my "life of paine," i may add here my belief that paine also appears in one of blake's pictures. the picture is in the national gallery (london), and called "the spiritual form of pitt guiding behemoth." the monster jaws of behemoth are full of struggling men, some of whom stretch imploring hands to another spiritual form, who reaches down from a crescent moon in the sky, as if to rescue them. this face and form appear to me certainly meant for paine. acting on blake's warning paine's friends got him off to dover, where, after some trouble, related in a letter to dundas (see p. of this volume), he reached calais. he had been elected by four departments to the national convention, and selected calais, where he was welcomed with grand civic parades. on september , , he arrived in paris, stopping at "white's hotel," passage des pétits pères, about five minutes' walk from the salle de manége, where, on september st, the national convention opened its sessions. the spot is now indicated by a tablet on the wall of the tuileries garden, rue de rivoli. on that day paine was introduced to the convention by the abbé grégoire, and received with acclamation. the french minister in london, chauvelin, had sent to his government (still royalist) a despatch unfavorable to paine's work in england, part of which i translate: "may , . an association [for parliamentary reform, see pp. , , of this volume] has been formed to seek the means of forwarding the demand. it includes some distinguished members of the commons, and a few peers. the writings of m. payne which preceded this association by a few days have done it infinite harm. people suspect under the veil of a reform long demanded by justice and reason an intention to destroy a constitution equally dear to the peers whose privileges it consecrates, to the wealthy whom it protects, and to the entire nation, to which it assures all the liberty desired by a people methodical and slow in character, and who, absorbed in their commercial interests, do not like being perpetually worried about the imbecile george iii. or public affairs. vainly have the friends of reform protested their attachment to the constitution. vainly they declare that they desire to demand nothing, to obtain nothing, save in lawful ways. they are persistently disbelieved. payne alone is seen in all their movements; and this author has not, like mackintosh, rendered imposing his refutation of burke. the members of the association, although very different in principles, find themselves involved in the now almost general disgrace of payne." m. noël writes from london, november , , to the republican minister, le brun, concerning the approaching trial of paine, which had been fixed for december th. "this matter above all excites the liveliest interest. people desire to know whether they live in a free country, where criticism even of government is a right of every citizen. whatever may be the decision in this interesting trial, the result can only be fortunate for the cause of liberty. but the government cannot conceal from itself that it is suspended over a volcano. the wild dissipations of the king's sons add to the discontent, and if something is overlooked in the prince of wales, who is loved enough, it is not so with the duke of york, who has few friends. the latter has so many debts that at this moment the receivers are in his house, and the creditors wish even his bed to be seized. you perceive, citizen, what a text fruitful in reflexions this conduct presents to a people groaning under the weight of taxes for the support of such whelps (_louvetaux_)." under date of december , , m. noël writes: "london is perfectly tranquil. the arbitrary measures taken by the government in advance [of paine's trial] cause no anxiety to the mass of the nation about its liberties. some dear-headed people see well that the royal prerogative will gain in this crisis, and that it is dangerous to leave executive power to become arbitrary at pleasure; but this very small number groan in silence, and dare not speak for fear of seeing their property pillaged or burned by what the miserable hirelings of government call 'loyal mob,' or 'church and king mob.' to the 'addressers,' of whom i wrote you, are added the associations for maintaining the constitution they are doing all they can to destroy. there is no corporation, no parish, which is not mustered for this object. all have assembled, one on the other, to press against those whom they call 'the republicans and the levellers,' the most inquisitorial measures. among other parishes, one (s. james' vestry room) distinguishes itself by a decree worthy of the sixteenth century. it promises twenty guineas reward to any one who shall denounce those who in conversation or otherwise propagate opinions contrary to the public tranquillity, and places the denouncer under protection of the parish. the inhabitants of london are now placed under a new kind of _test_, and those who refuse it will undoubtedly be persecuted. meantime these papers are carried from house to house to be signed, especially by those lodging as strangers. this _test_ causes murmurs, and some try to evade signature, but the number is few. the example of the capital is generally followed. the trial of payne, which at one time seemed likely to cause events, has ended in the most peaceful way. erskine has been borne to his house by people shouting _god save the king! erskine forever!_ the friends of liberty generally are much dissatisfied with the way in which he has defended his client. they find that he threw himself into commonplaces which could make his eloquence shine, but guarded himself well from going to the bottom of the question. vane especially, a distinguished advocate and zealous democrat, is furious against erskine. it is now for payne to defend himself. but whatever he does, he will have trouble enough to reverse the opinion. the jury's verdict is generally applauded: a mortal blow is dealt to freedom of thought. people sing in the streets, even at midnight, _god save the king and damn tom payne!_" ( ) the despatches from which these translations are made are in the archives of the department of state at paris, series marked _angleterre_ vol. . the student of that period will find some instruction in a collection, now in the british museum, of coins and medals mostly struck after the trial and outlawry of paine. a halfpenny, january , : _obverse_, a man hanging on a gibbet, with church in the distance; motto "end of pain"; _reverse_, open book inscribed "the wrongs of man." a token: bust of paine, with his name; _reverse_, "the mountain in labour, ." farthing: paine gibbeted; _reverse_, breeches burning, legend, "pandora's breeches"; beneath, serpent decapitated by a dagger, the severed head that of paine. similar farthing, but _reverse_, combustibles intermixed with labels issuing from a globe marked "fraternity"; the labels inscribed "regicide," "robbery," "falsity," "requisition"; legend, "french reforms, "; near by, a church with flag, on it a cross. half-penny without date, but no doubt struck in , when a rumor reached london that paine had been guillotined: paine gibbeted; above, devil smoking a pipe; _reverse_, monkey dancing; legend, "we dance, paine swings." farthing: three men hanging on a gallows; "the three thomases, ." _reverse_, "may the three knaves of jacobin clubs never get a trick." the three thomases were thomas paine, thomas muir, and thomas spence. in spence was imprisoned seven months for publishing some of paine's works at his so-called "hive of liberty." muir, a scotch lawyer, was banished to botany bay for fourteen years for having got up in edinburgh ( ) a "convention," in imitation of that just opened in paris; two years later he escaped from botany bay on an american ship, and found his way to paine in paris. among these coins there are two of opposite character. a farthing represents pitt on a gibbet, against which rests a ladder; inscription, "end of p [here an eye] t." _reverse_, face of pitt conjoined with that of the devil, and legend, "even fellows." another farthing like the last, except an added legend, "such is the reward of tyrants, ." these anti-pitt farthings were struck by thomas spence. in the winter of - the only reign of terror was in england. the ministry had replied to paine's "rights of man" by a royal proclamation against seditious literature, surrounding london with militia, and calling a meeting of parliament (december, ) out of season. even before the trial of paine his case was prejudged by the royal proclamation, and by the addresses got up throughout the country in response,--documents which elicited paine's address to the addressers, chapter ix. in this volume. the tory gentry employed roughs to burn paine in effigy throughout the country, and to harry the nonconformists. dr. priestley's house was gutted. mr. fox (december , ) reminded the house of commons that all the mobs had "church and king" for their watchword, no mob having been heard of for "the rights of man"; and he vainly appealed to the government to prosecute the dangerous libels against dissenters as they were prosecuting paine's work. burke, who in the extra session of parliament for the first time took his seat on the treasury bench, was reminded that he had once "exulted at the victories of that rebel washington," and welcomed franklin. "franklin," he said, "was a native of america; paine was born in england, and lived under the protection of our laws; but, instigated by his evil genius, he conspired against the very country which gave him birth, by attempting to introduce the new and pernicious doctrines of republicans." in the course of the same harangue, burke alluded to the english and irish deputations, then in paris, which had congratulated the convention on the defeat of the invaders of the republic. among them he named lord semphill, john frost, d. adams, and "joel--joel the prophet" (joel barlow). these men were among those who, towards the close of , formed a sort of paine club at "philadelphia house"--as white's hotel was now called. the men gathered around paine, as the exponent of republican principles, were animated by a passion for liberty which withheld no sacrifice. some of them threw away wealth and rank as trifles. at a banquet of the club, at philadelphia house, november , , where paine presided, lord edward fitzgerald and sir robert smyth, baronet, formally renounced their titles. sir robert proposed the toast, "a speedy abolition of all hereditary titles and feudal distinctions." another toast was, "paine--and the new way of making good books known by a royal proclamation and a king's bench prosecution." there was also franklin's friend, benjamin vaughan, member of parliament, who, compromised by an intercepted letter, took refuge in paris under the name of jean martin. other englishmen were rev. jeremiah joyce, a unitarian minister and author (coadjutor of dr. gregory in his "cyclopaedia "); henry redhead yorke, a west indian with some negro blood (afterwards an agent of pitt, under whom he had been imprisoned); robert merry, husband of the actress "miss brunton"; sayer, rayment, macdonald, perry. sampson perry of london, having attacked the government in his journal, "the argus," fled from an indictment, and reached paris in january, . these men, who for a time formed at philadelphia house their parliament of man, were dashed by swift storms on their several rocks. sir robert smyth was long a prisoner under the reign of terror, and died ( ) of the illness thereby contracted. lord edward fitzgerald was slain while trying to kindle a revolution in ireland. perry was a prisoner in the luxembourg, and afterwards in london. john frost, a lawyer (struck off the roll), ventured back to london, where he was imprisoned six months in newgate, sitting in the pillory at charing cross one hour per day. robert merry went to baltimore, where he died in . nearly all of these men suffered griefs known only to the "man without a country." sampson perry, who in published an interesting "history of the french revolution," has left an account of his visit to paine in january, : "i breakfasted with paine about this time at the philadelphia hotel, and asked him which province in america he conceived the best calculated for a fugitive to settle in, and, as it were, to begin the world with no other means or pretensions than common sense and common honesty. whether he saw the occasion and felt the tendency of this question i know not; but he turned it aside by the political news of the day, and added that he was going to dine with petion, the mayor, and that he knew i should be welcome and be entertained. we went to the mayoralty in a hackney coach, and were seated at a table about which were placed the following persons: petion, the mayor of paris, with his female relation who did the honour of the table; dumourier, the commander-in-chief of the french forces, and one of his aides-de-camp; santerre, the commandant of the armed force of paris, and an aide-de-camp; condorcet; brissot; gaudet; genson-net; danton; rersaint; clavière; vergniaud; and syèyes; which, with three other persons, whose names i do not now recollect, and including paine and myself, made in all nineteen." paine found warm welcome in the home of achille du-châtelet, who with him had first proclaimed the republic, and was now a general. madame duchâtelet was an english lady of rank, charlotte comyn, and english was fluently spoken in the family. they resided at auteuil, not far from the abbé moulet, who preserved an arm-chair with the inscription, _benjamin franklin hic sedebat_, paine was a guest of the duchâtelets soon after he got to work in the convention, as i have just discovered by a letter addressed "to citizen le brun, minister of foreign affairs, paris." "auteuil, friday, the th december, . i enclose an irish newspaper which has been sent me from belfast. it contains the address of the society of united irishmen of dublin (of which society i am a member) to the volunteers of ireland. none of the english newspapers that i have seen have ventured to republish this address, and as there is no other copy of it than this which i send you, i request you not to let it go out of your possession. before i received this newspaper i had drawn up a statement of the affairs of ireland, which i had communicated to my friend general duchâtelet at auteuil, where i now am. i wish to confer with you on that subject, but as i do not speak french, and as the matter requires confidence, general duchâtelet has desired me to say that if you can make it convenient to dine with him and me at auteuil, he will with pleasure do the office of interpreter. i send this letter by my servant, but as it may not be convenient to you to give an answer directly, i have told him not to wait--thomas paine." it will be noticed that paine now keeps his servant, and drives to the mayor's dinner in a hackney coach. a portrait painted in paris about this time, now owned by mr. alfred howlett of syracuse, n. y., shows him in elegant costume. it is mournful to reflect, even at this distance, that only a little later both paine and his friend general duchâtelet were prisoners. the latter poisoned himself in prison ( ). the illustrative notes and documents which it seems best to set before the reader at the outset may here terminate. as in the previous volumes the writings are, as a rule, given in chronological sequence, but an exception is now made in respect of paine's religious writings, some of which antedate essays in the present volume. the religious writings are reserved for the fourth and final volume, to which will be added an appendix containing paine's poems, scientific fragments, and several letters of general interest. i. the republican proclamation.( ) "brethren and fellow citizens: "the serene tranquillity, the mutual confidence which prevailed amongst us, during the time of the late king's escape, the indifference with which we beheld him return, are unequivocal proofs that the absence of a king is more desirable than his presence, and that he is not only a political superfluity, but a grievous burden, pressing hard on the whole nation. "let us not be imposed on by sophisms; all that concerns this is reduced to four points. "he has abdicated the throne in having fled from his post. abdication and desertion are not characterized by the length of absence; but by the single act of flight. in the present instance, the act is everything, and the time nothing. "the nation can never give back its confidence to a man who, false to his trust, perjured to his oath, conspires a clandestine flight, obtains a fraudulent passport, conceals a king of france under the disguise of a valet, directs his course towards a frontier covered with traitors and deserters, and evidently meditates a return into our country, with a force capable of imposing his own despotic laws. "should his flight be considered as his own act, or the act of those who fled with him? was it a spontaneous resolution of his own, or was it inspired by others? the alternative is immaterial; whether fool or hypocrite, idiot or traitor, he has proved himself equally unworthy of the important functions that had been delegated to him. see introduction to this volume. this manifesto with which paris was found placarded on july , , is described by dumont as a "republican proclamation," but what its literal caption was i have not found.--_editor_. "in every sense in which the question can be considered, the reciprocal obligation which subsisted between us is dissolved. he holds no longer any authority. we owe him no longer obedience. we see in him no more than an indifferent person; we can regard him only as louis capet. "the history of france presents little else than a long series of public calamity, which takes its source from the vices of kings; we have been the wretched victims that have never ceased to suffer either for them or by them. the catalogue of their oppressions was complete, but to complete the sum of their crimes, treason was yet wanting. now the only vacancy is filled up, the dreadful list is full; the system is exhausted; there are no remaining errors for them to commit; their reign is consequently at an end. "what kind of office must that be in a government which requires for its execution neither experience nor ability, that may be abandoned to the desperate chance of birth, that may be filled by an idiot, a madman, a tyrant, with equal effect as by the good, the virtuous, and the wise? an office of this nature is a mere nonentity; it is a place of show, not of use. let france then, arrived at the age of reason, no longer be deluded by the sound of words, and let her deliberately examine, if a king, however insignificant and contemptible in himself, may not at the same time be extremely dangerous. "the thirty millions which it costs to support a king in the eclat of stupid brutal luxury, presents us with an easy method of reducing taxes, which reduction would at once relieve the people, and stop the progress of political corruption. the grandeur of nations consists, not, as kings pretend, in the splendour of thrones, but in a conspicuous sense of their own dignity, and in a just disdain of those barbarous follies and crimes which, under the sanction of royalty, have hitherto desolated europe. "as to the personal safety of louis capet, it is so much the more confirmed, as france will not stoop to degrade herself by a spirit of revenge against a wretch who has dishonoured himself. in defending a just and glorious cause, it is not possible to degrade it, and the universal tranquillity which prevails is an undeniable proof that a free people know how to respect themselves." ii. to the authors of "le rÉpublicain."( ) gentlemen: m. duchâtelet has mentioned to me the intention of some persons to commence a work under the title of "the republican." as i am a citizen of a country which knows no other majesty than that of the people; no other government than that of the representative body; no other sovereignty than that of the laws, and which is attached to _france_ both by alliance and by gratitude, i voluntarily offer you my services in support of principles as honorable to a nation as they are adapted to promote the happiness of mankind. i offer them to you with the more zeal, as i know the moral, literary, and political character of those who are engaged in the undertaking, and find myself honoured in their good opinion. but i must at the same time observe, that from ignorance of the french language, my works must necessarily undergo a translation; they can of course be of but little utility, and my offering must consist more of wishes than services. i must add, that i am obliged to pass a part of this summer in england and ireland. as the public has done me the unmerited favor of recognizing me under the appellation of "common sense," which is my usual signature, i shall continue it in this publication to avoid mistakes, and to prevent my being supposed the author of works not my own. as to my political principles, i shall endeavour, in this letter, to trace their general features in such a manner, as that they cannot be misunderstood. "le républicain; ou le défenseur du gouvernement représentatif. par une société des républicains. a paris. july, ." see introduction to this volume.--_editor_. it is desirable in most instances to avoid that which may give even the least suspicion as to the part meant to be adopted, and particularly on the present occasion, where a perfect clearness of expression is necessary to the avoidance of any possible misinterpretation. i am happy, therefore, to find, that the work in question is entitled "the republican." this word expresses perfectly the idea which we ought to have of government in general--_res publico_,--the public affairs of a nation. as to the word _monarchy_, though the address and intrigue of courts have rendered it familiar, it does not contain the less of reproach or of insult to a nation. the word, in its immediate or original sense, signifies _the absolute power of a single individual_, who may prove a fool, an hypocrite, or a tyrant. the appellation admits of no other interpretation than that which is here given. france is therefore not a _monarchy_; it is insulted when called by that name. the servile spirit which characterizes this species of government is banished from france, and this country, like america, can now afford to monarchy no more than a glance of disdain. of the errors which monarchic ignorance or knavery has spread through the world, the one which bears the marks of the most dexterous invention, is the opinion that the system of _republicanism_ is only adapted to a small country, and that a _monarchy_ is suited, on the contrary, to those of greater extent. such is the language of courts, and such the sentiments which they have caused to be adopted in monarchic countries; but the opinion is contrary, at the same time, to principle and to experience. the government, to be of real use, should possess a complete knowledge of all the parties, all the circumstances, and all the interests of a nation. the monarchic system, in consequence, instead of being suited to a country of great extent, would be more admissible in a small territory, where an individual may be supposed to know the affairs and the interests of the whole. but when it is attempted to extend this individual knowledge to the affairs of a great country, the capacity of knowing bears no longer any proportion to the extent or multiplicity of the objects which ought to be known, and the government inevitably falls from ignorance into tyranny. for the proof of this position we need only look to spain, russia, germany, turkey, and the whole of the eastern continent,--countries, for the deliverance of which i offer my most sincere wishes. on the contrary, the true _republican_ system, by election and representation, offers the only means which are known, and, in my opinion, the only means which are possible, of proportioning the wisdom and the information of a government to the extent of a country. the system of _representation_ is the strongest and most powerful center that can be devised for a nation. its attraction acts so powerfully, that men give it their approbation even without reasoning on the cause; and france, however distant its several parts, finds itself at this moment _an whole_, in its _central_ representation. the citizen is assured that his rights are protected, and the soldier feels that he is no longer the slave of a despot, but that he is become one of the nation, and interested of course in its defence. the states at present styled _republican_, as holland, genoa, venice, berne, &c. are not only unworthy the name, but are actually in opposition to every principle of a _republican_ government, and the countries submitted to their power are, truly speaking, subject to an _aristocratic_ slavery! it is, perhaps, impossible, in the first steps which are made in a revolution, to avoid all kind of error, in principle or in practice, or in some instances to prevent the combination of both. before the sense of a nation is sufficiently enlightened, and before men have entered into the habits of a free communication with each other of their natural thoughts, a certain reserve--a timid prudence seizes on the human mind, and prevents it from obtaining its level with that vigor and promptitude that belongs to _right_.--an example of this influence discovers itself in the commencement of the present revolution: but happily this discovery has been made before the constitution was completed, and in time to provide a remedy. the _hereditary succession_ can never exist as a matter of _right_; it is a _nullity_--a _nothing_. to admit the idea is to regard man as a species of property belonging to some individuals, either born or to be born! it is to consider our descendants, and all posterity, as mere animals without a right or will! it is, in fine, the most base and humiliating idea that ever degraded the human species, and which, for the honor of humanity, should be destroyed for ever. the idea of hereditary succession is so contrary to the rights of man, that if we were ourselves to be recalled to existence, instead of being replaced by our posterity, we should not have the right of depriving ourselves beforehand of those _rights_ which would then properly belong to us. on what ground, then, or by what authority, do we dare to deprive of their rights those children who will soon be men? why are we not struck with the injustice which we perpetrate on our descendants, by endeavouring to transmit them as a vile herd to masters whose vices are all that can be foreseen. whenever the _french_ constitution shall be rendered conformable to its _declaration of rights_, we shall then be enabled to give to france, and with justice, the appellation of a _civic empire_; for its government will be the empire of laws founded on the great republican principles of _elective representation_, and the _rights of man_.--but monarchy and hereditary succession are incompatible with the _basis_ of its constitution. i hope that i have at present sufficiently proved to you that i am a good republican; and i have such a confidence in the truth of the principles, that i doubt not they will soon be as universal in _france_ as in _america_. the pride of human nature will assist their evidence, will contribute to their establishment, and men will be ashamed of monarchy. i am, with respect, gentlemen, your friend, thomas paine. paris, june, . iii. to the abbÉ siÈyes.( ) paris, th july, . sir, at the moment of my departure for england, i read, in the _moniteur_ of tuesday last, your letter, in which you give the challenge, on the subject of government, and offer to defend what is called the _monarchical opinion_ against the republican system. i accept of your challenge with pleasure; and i place such a confidence in the superiority of the republican system over that nullity of a system, called _monarchy_, that i engage not to exceed the extent of fifty pages, and to leave you the liberty of taking as much latitude as you may think proper. the respect which i bear your moral and literary reputation, will be your security for my candour in the course of this discussion; but, notwithstanding that i shall treat the subject seriously and sincerely, let me promise, that i consider myself at liberty to ridicule, as they deserve, monarchical absurdities, whensoever the occasion shall present itself. by republicanism, i do not understand what the name signifies in holland, and in some parts of italy. i understand simply a government by representation--a government founded upon the principles of the declaration of rights; principles to which several parts of the french constitution arise in contradiction. the declaration of rights of france and america are but one and the same thing in principles, and almost in expressions; and this is the republicanism which i undertake to defend against what is called _monarchy_ and _aristocracy_. written to the _moniteur_ in reply to a letter of the abbé (july ) elicited by paine's letter to "le républicain" (ii.). the abbé now declining a controversy, paine dealt with his views in "rights of man," part il, ch. .-- _editor_. i see with pleasure that in respect to one point we are already agreed; and _that is, the extreme danger of a civil list of thirty millions_. i can discover no reason why one of the parts of the government should be supported with so extravagant a profusion, whilst the other scarcely receives what is sufficient for its common wants. this dangerous and dishonourable disproportion at once supplies the one with the means of corrupting, and throws the other into the predicament of being corrupted. in america there is but little difference, with regard to this point, between the legislative and the executive part of our government; but the first is much better attended to than it is in france. in whatsoever manner, sir, i may treat the subject of which you have proposed the investigation, i hope that you will not doubt my entertaining for you the highest esteem. i must also add, that i am not the personal enemy of kings. quite the contrary. no man more heartily wishes than myself to see them all in the happy and honourable state of private individuals; but i am the avowed, open, and intrepid enemy of what is called monarchy; and i am such by principles which nothing can either alter or corrupt--by my attachment to humanity; by the anxiety which i feel within myself, for the dignity and the honour of the human race; by the disgust which i experience, when i observe men directed by children, and governed by brutes; by the horror which all the evils that monarchy has spread over the earth excite within my breast; and by those sentiments which make me shudder at the calamities, the exactions, the wars, and the massacres with which monarchy has crushed mankind: in short, it is against all the hell of monarchy that i have declared war. thomas paine.( ) to the sixth paragraph of the above letter is appended a footnote: "a deputy to the congress receives about a guinea and a half daily: and provisions are cheaper in america than in france." the american declaration of rights referred to unless the declaration of independence, was no doubt, especially that of pennsylvania, which paine helped to frame.--editor. iv. to the attorney general. [undated, but probably late in may, .] sir, though i have some reason for believing that you were not the original promoter or encourager of the prosecution commenced against the work entitled "rights of man" either as that prosecution is intended to affect the author, the publisher, or the public; yet as you appear the official person therein, i address this letter to you, not as sir archibald macdonald, but as attorney general. you began by a prosecution against the publisher jordan, and the reason assigned by mr. secretary dundas, in the house of commons, in the debate on the proclamation, may , for taking that measure, was, he said, because mr. paine could not be found, or words to that effect. mr. paine, sir, so far from secreting himself, never went a step out of his way, nor in the least instance varied from his usual conduct, to avoid any measure you might choose to adopt with respect to him. it is on the purity of his heart, and the universal utility of the principles and plans which his writings contain, that he rests the issue; and he will not dishonour it by any kind of subterfuge. the apartments which he occupied at the time of writing the work last winter, he has continued to occupy to the present hour, and the solicitors of the prosecution knew where to find him; of which there is a proof in their own office, as far back as the st of may, and also in the office of my own attorney.( ) paine was residing at the house of one of his publishers, thomas rickman, upper marylebone street, london. his attorney was the hon. thomas erskine.--_editor_. but admitting, for the sake of the case, that the reason for proceeding against the publisher was, as mr. dundas stated, that mr. paine could not be found, that reason can now exist no longer. the instant that i was informed that an information was preparing to be filed against me, as the author of, i believe, one of the most useful and benevolent books ever offered to mankind, i directed my attorney to put in an appearance; and as i shall meet the prosecution fully and fairly, and with a good and upright conscience, i have a right to expect that no act of littleness will be made use of on the part of the prosecution towards influencing the future issue with respect to the author. this expression may, perhaps, appear obscure to you, but i am in the possession of some matters which serve to shew that the action against the publisher is not intended to be a _real_ action. if, therefore, any persons concerned in the prosecution have found their cause so weak, as to make it appear convenient to them to enter into a negociation with the publisher, whether for the purpose of his submitting to a verdict, and to make use of the verdict so obtained as a circumstance, by way of precedent, on a future trial against myself; or for any other purpose not fully made known to me; if, i say, i have cause to suspect this to be the case, i shall most certainly withdraw the defence i should otherwise have made, or promoted on his (the publisher's) behalf, and leave the negociators to themselves, and shall reserve the whole of the defence for the _real_ trial.( ) but, sir, for the purpose of conducting this matter with at least the appearance of fairness and openness, that shall justify itself before the public, whose cause it really is, (for it is the right of public discussion and investigation that is questioned,) i have to propose to you to cease the prosecution against the publisher; and as the reason or pretext can no longer exist for continuing it against him because mr. paine could not be found, that you would direct the whole process against me, with whom the prosecuting party will not find it possible to enter into any private negociation. a detailed account of the proceedings with regard to the publisher will be found infra, in ix., letter to the addressers.--_editor_. i will do the cause full justice, as well for the sake of the nation, as for my own reputation. another reason for discontinuing the process against the publisher is, because it can amount to nothing. first, because a jury in london cannot decide upon the fact of publishing beyond the limits of the jurisdiction of london, and therefore the work may be republished over and over again in every county in the nation, and every case must have a separate process; and by the time that three or four hundred prosecutions have been had, the eyes of the nation will then be fully open to see that the work in question contains a plan the best calculated to root out all the abuses of government, and to lessen the taxes of the nation upwards of _six millions annually_. secondly, because though the gentlemen of london may be very expert in understanding their particular professions and occupations, and how to make business contracts with government beneficial to themselves as individuals, the rest of the nation may not be disposed to consider them sufficiently qualified nor authorized to determine for the whole nation on plans of reform, and on systems and principles of government. this would be in effect to erect a jury into a national convention, instead of electing a convention, and to lay a precedent for the probable tyranny of juries, under the pretence of supporting their rights. that the possibility always exists of packing juries will not be denied; and, therefore, in all cases, where government is the prosecutor, more especially in those where the right of public discussion and investigation of principles and systems of government is attempted to be suppressed by a verdict, or in those where the object of the work that is prosecuted is the reform of abuse and the abolition of sinecure places and pensions, in all these cases the verdict of a jury will itself become a subject of discussion; and therefore, it furnishes an additional reason for discontinuing the prosecution against the publisher, more especially as it is not a secret that there has been a negociation with him for secret purposes, and for proceeding against me only. i shall make a much stronger defence than what i believe the treasury solicitor's agreement with him will permit him to do. i believe that mr. burke, finding himself defeated, and not being able to make any answer to the _rights of man_, has been one of the promoters of this prosecution; and i shall return the compliment to him by shewing, in a future publication, that he has been a masked pensioner at l. per annum for about ten years. thus it is that the public money is wasted, and the dread of public investigation is produced. i am, sir, your obedient humble servant, thomas paine.( ) paine's case was set down for june th, and on that day he appeared in court; but, much to his disappointment, the trial was adjourned to december th, at which time he was in his place in the national convention at paris.--_editor_. v. to mr. secretary dundas.( ) london, june , . sir, as you opened the debate in the house of commons, may th, on the proclamation for suppressing publications, which that proclamation (without naming any) calls wicked and seditious: and as you applied those opprobious epithets to the works entitled "rights of man," i think it unnecessary to offer any other reason for addressing this letter to you. i begin, then, at once, by declaring, that i do not believe there are found in the writings of any author, ancient or modern, on the subject of government, a spirit of greater benignity, and a stronger inculcation of moral principles than in those which i have published. they come, sir, from a man, who, by having lived in different countries, and under different systems of government, and who, being intimate in the construction of them, is a better judge of the subject than it is possible that you, from the want of those opportunities, can be:--and besides this, they come from a heart that knows not how to beguile. i will farther say, that when that moment arrives in which the best consolation that shall be left will be looking back on some past actions, more virtuous and more meritorious than the rest, i shall then with happiness remember, among other things, i have written the rights of man.---as to what proclamations, or prosecutions, or place-men, and place-expectants,--those who possess, or those who are gaping for office,--may say of them, it will not alter their character, either with the world or with me. henry d. (afterwards viscount melville), appointed secretary for the home department, . in he was impeached by the commons for "gross malversation" while treasurer of the navy; he was acquitted by the lords ( ), but not by public sentiment or by history.-- _editor_. having, sir, made this declaration, i shall proceed to remark, not particularly on your speech on that occasion, but on any one to which your motion on that day gave rise; and i shall begin with that of mr. adam. this gentleman accuses me of not having done the very thing that _i have done_, and which, he says, if i _had_ done, he should not have accused me. mr. adam, in his speech, (see the morning chronicle of may ,) says, "that he had well considered the subject of constitutional publications, and was by no means ready to say (but the contrary) that books of science upon government though recommending a doctrine or system different from the form of our constitution (meaning that of england) were fit objects of prosecution; that if he did, he must condemn harrington for his oceana, sir thomas more for his eutopia, and hume for his idea of a perfect commonwealth. but (continued mr. adam) the publication of mr. paine was very different; for it reviled what was most sacred in the constitution, destroyed every principle of subordination, and _established nothing in their room_." i readily perceive that mr. adam has not read the second part of _rights of man_, and i am put under the necessity, either of submitting to an erroneous charge, or of justifying myself against it; and certainly shall prefer the latter.--if, then, i shall prove to mr. adam, that in my reasoning upon systems of government, in the second part of _rights of man_, i have shown as clearly, i think, as words can convey ideas, a certain system of government, and that not existing in theory only, but already in full and established practice, and systematically and practically free from all the vices and defects of the english government, and capable of producing more happiness to the people, and that also with an eightieth part of the taxes, which the present english system of government consumes; i hope he will do me the justice, when he next goes to the house, to get up and confess he had been mistaken in saying, that i had _established nothing, and that i had destroyed every principle of subordination_. having thus opened the case, i now come to the point. in the second part of the rights of man, i have distinguished government into two classes or systems: the one the hereditary system, the other the representative system. in the first part of _rights of man_, i have endeavoured to shew, and i challenge any man to refute it, that there does not exist a right to establish hereditary government; or, in other words, hereditary governors; because hereditary government always means a government yet to come, and the case always is, that the people who are to live afterwards, have always the same right to choose a government for themselves, as the people had who lived before them. in the second part of _rights of man_, i have not repeated those arguments, because they are irrefutable; but have confined myself to shew the defects of what is called hereditary government, or hereditary succession, that it must, from the nature of it, throw government into the hands of men totally unworthy of it, from want of principle, or unfitted for it from want of capacity.--james the iid. is recorded as an instance of the first of these cases; and instances are to be found almost all over europe to prove the truth of the latter. to shew the absurdity of the hereditary system still more strongly, i will now put the following case:--take any fifty men promiscuously, and it will be very extraordinary, if, out of that number, one man should be found, whose principles and talents taken together (for some might have principles, and others might have talents) would render him a person truly fitted to fill any very extraordinary office of national trust. if then such a fitness of character could not be expected to be found in more than one person out of fifty, it would happen but once in a thousand years to the eldest son of any one family, admitting each, on an average, to hold the office twenty years. mr. adam talks of something in the constitution which he calls _most sacred_; but i hope he does not mean hereditary succession, a thing which appears to me a violation of every order of nature, and of common sense. when i look into history and see the multitudes of men, otherwise virtuous, who have died, and their families been ruined, in the defence of knaves and fools, and which they would not have done, had they reasoned at all upon the system; i do not know a greater good that an individual can render to mankind, than to endeavour to break the chains of political superstition. those chains are now dissolving fast, and proclamations and persecutions will serve but to hasten that dissolution. having thus spoken of the hereditary system as a bad system, and subject to every possible defect, i now come to the representative system, and this mr. adam will find stated in the second part of rights of man, not only as the best, but as the only _theory_ of government under which the liberties of the people can be permanently secure. but it is needless now to talk of mere theory, since there is already a government in full practice, established upon that theory; or in other words, upon the rights of man, and has been so for almost twenty years. mr. pitt, in a speech of his some short time since, said, "that there never did, and never could exist a government established upon those rights, and that if it began at noon, it would end at night." mr. pitt has not yet arrived at the degree of a school-boy in this species of knowledge; his practice has been confined to the means of _extorting revenue_, and his boast has been--_how much!_ whereas the boast of the system of government that i am speaking of, is not how much, but how little. the system of government purely representative, unmixed with any thing of hereditary nonsense, began in america. i will now compare the effects of that system of government with the system of government in england, both during, and since the close of the war. so powerful is the representative system, first, by combining and consolidating all the parts of a country together, however great the extent; and, secondly, by admitting of none but men properly qualified into the government, or dismissing them if they prove to be otherwise, that america was enabled thereby totally to defeat and overthrow all the schemes and projects of the hereditary government of england against her. as the establishment of the revolution and independence of america is a proof of this fact, it is needless to enlarge upon it. i now come to the comparative effect of the two systems _since_ the close of the war, and i request mr. adam to attend to it. america had internally sustained the ravages of upwards of seven years of war, which england had not. england sustained only the expence of the war; whereas america sustained not only the expence, but the destruction of property committed by _both_ armies. not a house was built during that period, and many thousands were destroyed. the farms and plantations along the coast of the country, for more than a thousand miles, were laid waste. her commerce was annihilated. her ships were either taken, or had rotted within her own harbours. the credit of her funds had fallen upwards of ninety per cent., that is, an original hundred pounds would not sell for ten pounds. in fine, she was apparently put back an hundred years when the war closed, which was not the case with england. but such was the event, that the same representative system of government, though since better organized, which enabled her to conquer, enabled her also to recover, and she now presents a more flourishing condition, and a more happy and harmonized society, under that system of government, than any country in the world can boast under any other. her towns are rebuilt, much better than before; her farms and plantations are in higher improvement than ever; her commerce is spread over the world, and her funds have risen from less than ten pounds the hundred to upwards of one hundred and twenty. mr. pitt and his colleagues talk of the things that have happened in his boyish administration, without knowing what greater things have happened elsewhere, and under other systems of government. i now come to state the expence of the two systems, as they now stand in each of the countries; but it may first be proper to observe, that government in america is what it ought to be, a matter of honour and trust, and not made a trade of for the purpose of lucre. the whole amount of the nett(sic) taxes in england (exclusive of the expence of collection, of drawbacks, of seizures and condemnation, of fines and penalties, of fees of office, of litigations and informers, which are some of the blessed means of enforcing them) is seventeen millions. of this sum, about nine millions go for the payment of the interest of the national debt, and the remainder, being about eight millions, is for the current annual expences. this much for one side of the case. i now come to the other. the expence of the several departments of the general representative government of the united states of america, extending over a space of country nearly ten times larger than england, is two hundred and ninety-four thousand, five hundred and fifty-eight dollars, which, at s. d. per dollar, is , l. s. sterling, and is thus apportioned; [illustration: table ] on account of the incursions of the indians on the back settlements, congress is at this time obliged to keep six thousand militia in pay, in addition to a regiment of foot, and a battalion of artillery, which it always keeps; and this increases the expence of the war department to , dollars, which is , l. sterling, but when peace shall be concluded with the indians, the greatest part of this expence will cease, and the total amount of the expence of government, including that of the army, will not amount to , l. sterling, which, as has been already stated, is but an eightieth part of the expences of the english government. i request mr. adam and mr. dundas, and all those who are talking of constitutions, and blessings, and kings, and lords, and the lord knows what, to look at this statement. here is a form and system of government, that is better organized and better administered than any government in the world, and that for less than one hundred thousand pounds per annum, and yet every member of congress receives, as a compensation for his time and attendance on public business, one pound seven shillings per day, which is at the rate of nearly five hundred pounds a year. this is a government that has nothing to fear. it needs no proclamations to deter people from writing and reading. it needs no political superstition to support it; it was by encouraging discussion and rendering the press free upon all subjects of government, that the principles of government became understood in america, and the people are now enjoying the present blessings under it. you hear of no riots, tumults, and disorders in that country; because there exists no cause to produce them. those things are never the effect of freedom, but of restraint, oppression, and excessive taxation. in america, there is not that class of poor and wretched people that are so numerously dispersed all over england, who are to be told by a proclamation, that they are happy; and this is in a great measure to be accounted for, not by the difference of proclamations, but by the difference of governments and the difference of taxes between that country and this. what the labouring people of that country earn, they apply to their own use, and to the education of their children, and do not pay it away in taxes as fast as they earn it, to support court extravagance, and a long enormous list of place-men and pensioners; and besides this, they have learned the manly doctrine of reverencing themselves, and consequently of respecting each other; and they laugh at those imaginary beings called kings and lords, and all the fraudulent trumpery of court. when place-men and pensioners, or those who expect to be such, are lavish in praise of a government, it is not a sign of its being a good one. the pension list alone in england (see sir john sinclair's history of the revenue, p. , of the appendix) is one hundred and seven thousand four hundred and four pounds, _which is more than the expences of the whole government of america amount to_. and i am now more convinced than before, that the offer that was made to me of a thousand pounds for the copy-right of the second part of the rights of man, together with the remaining copyright of the first part, was to have effected, by a quick suppression, what is now attempted to be done by a prosecution. the connection which the person, who made the offer, has with the king's printing-office, may furnish part of the means of inquiring into this affair, when the ministry shall please to bring their prosecution to issue.( ) but to return to my subject.-- i have said in the second part of the _rights of man_, and i repeat it here, that the service of any man, whether called king, president, senator, legislator, or any thing else, cannot be worth more to any country, in the regular routine of office, than ten thousand pounds per annum. we have a better man in america, and more of a gentleman, than any king i ever knew of, who does not occasion half that ex-pence; for, though the salary is fixed at £ he does not accept it, and it is only the incidental expences that are paid out of it.( ) the name by which a man is called is of itself but an empty thing. it is worth and character alone which can render him valuable, for without these, kings, and lords, and presidents, are but jingling names. but without troubling myself about constitutions of government, i have shewn in the second part of _rights of man_, that an alliance may be formed between england, france, and america, and that the expences of government in england may be put back to one million and a half, viz.: civil expence of government...... , l. army............................. , navy............................. , ---------- , , l. and even this sum is fifteen times greater than the expences of government are in america; and it is also greater than the whole peace establishment of england amounted to about an hundred years ago. so much has the weight and oppression of taxes increased since the revolution, and especially since the year . at paine's trial, chapman, the printer, in answer to fa question of the solicitor general, said: "i made him three separate offers in the different stages of the work; the first, i believe, was a hundred guineas, the second five hundred, and the last was a thousand."--_editor_. error. see also ante, and in vol. ii., p. . washington had retracted his original announcement, and received his salary regularly.--_editor_. to shew that the sum of , l. is sufficient to defray all civil expences of government, i have, in that work, annexed the following estimate for any country of the same extent as england.-- in the first place, three hundred representatives, fairly elected, are sufficient for all the purposes to which legislation can apply, and preferable to a larger number. if, then, an allowance, at the rate of l. per annum be made to every representative, deducting for non-attendance, the expence, if the whole number attended six months each year, would be....... , l. the official departments could not possibly exceed the following number, with the salaries annexed, viz.: [illustration: table] three offices at , l. each , ten ditto at , u , twenty ditto at , u , forty ditto at , it , two hundred ditto at u , three hundred ditto at u , five hundred ditto at u , seven hundred ditto at it , , l. if a nation chose, it might deduct four per cent, from all the offices, and make one of twenty thousand pounds per annum, and style the person who should fill it, king or madjesty, ( ) or give him any other title. taking, however, this sum of one million and a half, as an abundant supply for all the expences of government under any form whatever, there will remain a surplus of nearly six millions and a half out of the present taxes, after paying the interest of the national debt; and i have shewn in the second part of _rights of man_, what appears to me, the best mode of applying the surplus money; for i am now speaking of expences and savings, and not of systems of government. a friend of paine advised him against this pun, as too personal an allusion to george the third, to whom however much has been forgiven on account of his mental infirmity. yorke, in his account of his visit to paine, , alludes to his (paine's) anecdotes "of humor and benevolence" concerning george iii.--_editor_. i have, in the first place, estimated the poor-rates at two millions annually, and shewn that the first effectual step would be to abolish the poor-rates entirely (which would be a saving of two millions to the house-keepers,) and to remit four millions out of the surplus taxes to the poor, to be paid to them in money, in proportion to the number of children in each family, and the number of aged persons. i have estimated the number of persons of both sexes in england, of fifty years of age and upwards, at , , and have taken one third of this number, viz. , , to be poor people. to save long calculations, i have taken , of them to be upwards of fifty years of age, and under sixty, and the others to be sixty years and upwards; and to allow six pounds per annum to the former class, and ten pounds per annum to the latter. the expence of which will be, seventy thousand persons at l. per annum..... , l. seventy thousand persons at l. per annum.... , ----------- , , l. there will then remain of the four millions, , , l. i have stated two different methods of appropriating this money. the one is to pay it in proportion to the number of children in each family, at the rate of three or four pounds per annum for each child; the other is to apportion it according to the expence of living in different counties; but in either of these cases it would, together with the allowance to be made to the aged, completely take off taxes from one third of all the families in england, besides relieving all the other families from the burthen of poor-rates. the whole number of families in england, allotting five souls to each family, is one million four hundred thousand, of which i take one third, _viz_. , to be poor families who now pay four millions of taxes, and that the poorest pays at least four guineas a year; and that the other thirteen millions are paid by the other two-thirds. the plan, therefore, as stated in the work, is, first, to remit or repay, as is already stated, this sum of four millions to the poor, because it is impossible to separate them from the others in the present mode of collecting taxes on articles of consumption; and, secondly, to abolish the poor-rates, the house and window-light tax, and to change the commutation tax into a progressive tax on large estates, the particulars of all which are set forth in the work, to which i desire mr. adam to refer for particulars. i shall here content myself with saying, that to a town of the population of manchester, it will make a difference in its favour, compared with the present state of things, of upwards of fifty thousand pounds annually, and so in proportion to all other places throughout the nation. this certainly is of more consequence than that the same sums should be collected to be afterwards spent by riotous and profligate courtiers, and in nightly revels at the star and garter tavern, pall mall. i will conclude this part of my letter with an extract from the second part of the _rights of man_, which mr. dundas (a man rolling in luxury at the expence of the nation) has branded with the epithet of "wicked." "by the operation of this plan, the poor laws, those instruments of civil torture, will be superseded, and the wasteful ex-pence of litigation prevented. the hearts of the humane will not be shocked by ragged and hungry children, and persons of seventy and eighty years of age begging for bread. the dying poor will not be dragged from place to place to breathe their last, as a reprisal of parish upon parish. widows will have a maintenance for their children, and not be carted away, on the death of their husbands, like culprits and criminals; and children will no longer be considered as increasing the distresses of their parents. the haunts of the wretched will be known, because it will be to their advantage; and the number of petty crimes, the offspring of poverty and distress, will be lessened. the poor as well as the rich will then be interested in the support of government, and the cause and apprehension of riots and tumults will cease. ye who sit in ease, and solace yourselves in plenty, and such there are in turkey and russia, as well as in england, and who say to yourselves, _are we not well off_ have ye thought of these things? when ye do, ye will cease to speak and feel for yourselves alone." after this remission of four millions be made, and the poor-rates and houses and window-light tax be abolished, and the commutation tax changed, there will still remain nearly one million and a half of surplus taxes; and as by an alliance between england, france and america, armies and navies will, in a great measure, be rendered unnecessary; and as men who have either been brought up in, or long habited to, those lines of life, are still citizens of a nation in common with the rest, and have a right to participate in all plans of national benefit, it is stated in that work (_rights of man_, part ii.) to apply annually , l. out of the surplus taxes to this purpose, in the following manner: [illustration: table ] the limits to which it is proper to confine this letter, will not admit of my entering into further particulars. i address it to mr. dundas because he took the lead in the debate, and he wishes, i suppose, to appear conspicuous; but the purport of it is to justify myself from the charge which mr. adam has made. this gentleman, as has been observed in the beginning of this letter, considers the writings of harrington, more and hume, as justifiable and legal publications, because they reasoned by comparison, though in so doing they shewed plans and systems of government, not only different from, but preferable to, that of england; and he accuses me of endeavouring to confuse, instead of producing a system in the room of that which i had reasoned against; whereas, the fact is, that i have not only reasoned by comparison of the representative system against the hereditary system, but i have gone further; for i have produced an instance of a government established entirely on the representative system, under which greater happiness is enjoyed, much fewer taxes required, and much higher credit is established, than under the system of government in england. the funds in england have risen since the war only from l. to l. and they have been down since the proclamation, to l. whereas the funds in america rose in the mean time from l. to l. his charge against me of "destroying every principle of subordination," is equally as groundless; which even a single paragraph from the work will prove, and which i shall here quote: "formerly when divisions arose respecting governments, recourse was had to the sword, and a civil war ensued. that savage custom is exploded by the new system, and _recourse is had to a national convention_. discussion, and the general will, arbitrates the question, and to this private opinion yields with a good grace, and _order is preserved uninterrupted_." that two different charges should be brought at the same time, the one by a member of the legislative, for _not_ doing a certain thing, and the other by the attorney general for _doing_ it, is a strange jumble of contradictions. i have now justified myself, or the work rather, against the first, by stating the case in this letter, and the justification of the other will be undertaken in its proper place. but in any case the work will go on. i shall now conclude this letter with saying, that the only objection i found against the plan and principles contained in the second part of _rights of man_, when i had written the book, was, that they would beneficially interest at least ninety-nine persons out of every hundred throughout the nation, and therefore would not leave sufficient room for men to act from the direct and disinterested principles of honour; but the prosecution now commenced has fortunately removed that objection, and the approvers and protectors of that work now feel the immediate impulse of honour added to that of national interest. i am, mr. dundas, not your obedient humble servant, but the contrary, thomas paine. vi. letters to onslow cranley, lord lieutenant of the county of surry; on the subject of the late excellent proclamation:--or the chairman who shall preside at the meeting to be held at epsom, june . first letter. london, june th, . sir, i have seen in the public newspapers the following advertisement, to wit-- "to the nobility, gentry, clergy, freeholders, and other inhabitants of the county of surry. "at the requisition and desire of several of the freeholders of the county, i am, in the absence of the sheriff, to desire the favour of your attendance, at a meeting to be held at epsom, on monday, the th instant, at o'clock at noon, to consider of an humble address to his majesty, to express our grateful approbation of his majesty's paternal, and well-timed attendance to the public welfare, in his late most gracious proclamation against the enemies of our happy constitution. "(signed.) onslow cranley." taking it for granted, that the aforesaid advertisement, equally as obscure as the proclamation to which it refers, has nevertheless some meaning, and is intended to effect some purpose; and as a prosecution (whether wisely or unwisely, justly or unjustly) is already commenced against a work intitled rights of man, of which i have the honour and happiness to be the author; i feel it necessary to address this letter to you, and to request that it may be read publicly to the gentlemen who shall meet at epsom in consequence of the advertisement. the work now under prosecution is, i conceive, the same work which is intended to be suppressed by the aforesaid proclamation. admitting this to be the case, the gentlemen of the county of surry are called upon by somebody to condemn a work, and they are at the same time forbidden by the proclamation to know what that work is; and they are further called upon to give their aid and assistance to prevent other people from knowing it also. it is therefore necessary that the author, for his own justification, as well as to prevent the gentlemen who shall meet from being imposed upon by misrepresentation, should give some outlines of the principles and plans which that work contains. the work, sir, in question, contains, first, an investigation of general principles of government. it also distinguishes government into two classes or systems, the one the hereditary system; the other the representative system; and it compares these two systems with each other. it shews that what is called hereditary government cannot exist as a matter of right; because hereditary government always means a government yet to come; and the case always is, that those who are to live afterwards have always the same right to establish a government for themselves as the people who had lived before them. it also shews the defect to which hereditary government is unavoidably subject: that it must, from the nature of it, throw government into the hands of men totally unworthy of it from the want of principle, and unfitted for it from want of capacity. james ii. and many others are recorded in the english history as proofs of the former of those cases, and instances are to be found all over europe to prove the truth of the latter. it then shews that the representative system is the only true system of government; that it is also the only system under which the liberties of any people can be permanently secure; and, further, that it is the only one that can continue the same equal probability at all times of admitting of none but men properly qualified, both by principles and abilities, into government, and of excluding such as are otherwise. the work shews also, by plans and calculations not hitherto denied nor controverted, not even by the prosecution that is commenced, that the taxes now existing may be reduced at least six millions, that taxes may be entirely taken off from the poor, who are computed at one third of the nation; and that taxes on the other two thirds may be considerably reduced; that the aged poor may be comfortably provided for, and the children of poor families properly educated; that fifteen thousand soldiers, and the same number of sailors, may be allowed three shillings per week during life out of the surplus taxes; and also that a proportionate allowance may be made to the officers, and the pay of the remaining soldiers and sailors be raised; and that it is better to apply the surplus taxes to those purposes, than to consume them on lazy and profligate placemen and pensioners; and that the revenue, said to be twenty thousand pounds per annum, raised by a tax upon coals, and given to the duke of richmond, is a gross imposition upon all the people of london, and ought to be instantly abolished. this, sir, is a concise abstract of the principles and plans contained in the work that is now prosecuted, and for the suppression of which the proclamation appears to be intended; but as it is impossible that i can, in the compass of a letter, bring into view all the matters contained in the work, and as it is proper that the gentlemen who may compose that meeting should know what the merits or demerits of it are, before they come to any resolutions, either directly or indirectly relating thereto, i request the honour of presenting them with one hundred copies of the second part of the rights of man, and also one thousand copies of my letter to mr. dundas, which i have directed to be sent to epsom for that purpose; and i beg the favour of the chairman to take the trouble of presenting them to the gentlemen who shall meet on that occasion, with my sincere wishes for their happiness, and for that of the nation in general. having now closed thus much of the subject of my letter, i next come to speak of what has relation to me personally. i am well aware of the delicacy that attends it, but the purpose of calling the meeting appears to me so inconsistent with that justice that is always due between man and man, that it is proper i should (as well on account of the gentlemen who may meet, as on my own account) explain myself fully and candidly thereon. i have already informed the gentlemen, that a prosecution is commenced against a work of which i have the honour and happiness to be the author; and i have good reasons for believing that the proclamation which the gentlemen are called to consider, and to present an address upon, is purposely calculated to give an impression to the jury before whom that matter is to come. in short, that it is dictating a verdict by proclamation; and i consider the instigators of the meeting to be held at epsom, as aiding and abetting the same improper, and, in my opinion, illegal purpose, and that in a manner very artfully contrived, as i shall now shew. had a meeting been called of the freeholders of the county of middlesex, the gentlemen who had composed that meeting would have rendered themselves objectionable as persons to serve on a jury, before whom the judicial case was afterwards to come. but by calling a meeting out of the county of middlesex, that matter is artfully avoided, and the gentlemen of surry are summoned, as if it were intended thereby to give a tone to the sort of verdict which the instigators of the meeting no doubt wish should be brought in, and to give countenance to the jury in so doing. i am, sir, with much respect to the gentlemen who shall meet, their and your obedient and humble servant, thomas paine. to onslow cranley, commonly called lord onslow. second letter. sir, london, june st . when i wrote you the letter which mr. home tooke did me the favour to present to you, as chairman of the meeting held at epsom, monday, june , it was not with much expectation that you would do me the justice of permitting, or recommending it to be publicly read. i am well aware that the signature of thomas paine has something in it dreadful to sinecure placemen and pensioners; and when you, on seeing the letter opened, informed the meeting that it was signed thomas paine, and added in a note of exclamation, "the common enemy of us all." you spoke one of the greatest truths you ever uttered, if you confine the expression to men of the same description with yourself; men living in indolence and luxury, on the spoil and labours of the public. the letter has since appeared in the "argus," and probably in other papers.( ) it will justify itself; but if any thing on that account hath been wanting, your conduct at the meeting would have supplied the omission. you there sufficiently proved that i was not mistaken in supposing that the meeting was called to give an indirect aid to the prosecution commenced against a work, the reputation of which will long outlive the memory of the pensioner i am writing to. when meetings, sir, are called by the partisans of the court, to preclude the nation the right of investigating systems and principles of government, and of exposing errors and defects, under the pretence of prosecuting an individual--it furnishes an additional motive for maintaining sacred that violated right. the principles and arguments contained in the work in question, _rights of man_, have stood, and they now stand, and i believe ever will stand, unrefuted. they are stated in a fair and open manner to the world, and they have already received the public approbation of a greater number of men, of the best of characters, of every denomination of religion, and of every rank in life, (placemen and pensioners excepted,) than all the juries that shall meet in england, for ten years to come, will amount to; and i have, moreover, good reasons for believing that the approvers of that work, as well private as public, are already more numerous than all the present electors throughout the nation. the _argus_ was edited by sampson perry, soon after prosecuted.--_editor_. not less than forty pamphlets, intended as answers thereto, have appeared, and as suddenly disappeared: scarcely are the titles of any of them remembered, notwithstanding their endeavours have been aided by all the daily abuse which the court and ministerial newspapers, for almost a year and a half, could bestow, both upon the work and the author; and now that every attempt to refute, and every abuse has failed, the invention of calling the work a libel has been hit upon, and the discomfited party has pusillanimously retreated to prosecution and a jury, and obscure addresses. as i well know that a long letter from me will not be agreeable to you, i will relieve your uneasiness by making it as short as i conveniently can; and will conclude it with taking up the subject at that part where mr. horne tooke was interrupted from going on when at the meeting. that gentleman was stating, that the situation you stood in rendered it improper for you to appear _actively_ in a scene in which your private interest was too visible: that you were a bedchamber lord at a thousand a year, and a pensioner at three thousand pounds a year more--and here he was stopped by the little but noisy circle you had collected round. permit me then, sir, to add an explanation to his words, for the benefit of your neighbours, and with which, and a few observations, i shall close my letter. when it was reported in the english newspapers, some short time since, that the empress of russia had given to one of her minions a large tract of country and several thousands of peasants as property, it very justly provoked indignation and abhorrence in those who heard it. but if we compare the mode practised in england, with that which appears to us so abhorrent in russia, it will be found to amount to very near the same thing;--for example-- as the whole of the revenue in england is drawn by taxes from the pockets of the people, those things called gifts and grants (of which kind are all pensions and sinecure places) are paid out of that stock. the difference, therefore, between the two modes is, that in england the money is collected by the government, and then given to the pensioner, and in russia he is left to collect it for himself. the smallest sum which the poorest family in a county so near london as surry, can be supposed to pay annually, of taxes, is not less than five pounds; and as your sinecure of one thousand, and pension of three thousand per annum, are made up of taxes paid by eight hundred such poor families, it comes to the same thing as if the eight hundred families had been given to you, as in russia, and you had collected the money on your account. were you to say that you are not quartered particularly on the people of surrey, but on the nation at large, the objection would amount to nothing; for as there are more pensioners than counties, every one may be considered as quartered on that in which he lives. what honour or happiness you can derive from being the principal pauper of the neighbourhood, and occasioning a greater expence than the poor, the aged, and the infirm, for ten miles round you, i leave you to enjoy. at the same time i can see that it is no wonder you should be strenuous in suppressing a book which strikes at the root of those abuses. no wonder that you should be against reforms, against the freedom of the press, and the right of investigation. to you, and to others of your description, these are dreadful things; but you should also consider, that the motives which prompt you to _act_, ought, by reflection, to compel you to be _silent_. having now returned your compliment, and sufficiently tired your patience, i take my leave of you, with mentioning, that if you had not prevented my former letter from being read at the meeting, you would not have had the trouble of reading this; and also with requesting, that the next time you call me "_a common enemy_," you would add, "_of us sinecure placemen and pensioners_." i am, sir, &c. &c. &c. thomas paine. vii. to the sheriff of the county of sussex, or, the gentleman who shall preside at the meeting to be held at lewes, july . london, june , . sir, i have seen in the lewes newspapers, of june , an advertisement, signed by sundry persons, and also by the sheriff, for holding a meeting at the town-hall of lewes, for the purpose, as the advertisement states, of presenting an address on the late proclamation for suppressing writings, books, &c. and as i conceive that a certain publication of mine, entitled "rights of man," in which, among other things, the enormous increase of taxes, placemen, and pensioners, is shewn to be unnecessary and oppressive, _is the particular writing alluded to in the said publication_; i request the sheriff, or in his absence, whoever shall preside at the meeting, or any other person, to read this letter publicly to the company who shall assemble in consequence of that advertisement. gentlemen--it is now upwards of eighteen years since i was a resident inhabitant of the town of lewes. my situation among you, as an officer of the revenue, for more than six years, enabled me to see into the numerous and various distresses which the weight of taxes even at that time of day occasioned; and feeling, as i then did, and as it is natural for me to do, for the hard condition of others, it is with pleasure i can declare, and every person then under my survey, and now living, can witness, the exceeding candour, and even tenderness, with which that part of the duty that fell to my share was executed. the name of _thomas paine_ is not to be found in the records of the lewes' justices, in any one act of contention with, or severity of any kind whatever towards, the persons whom he surveyed, either in the town, or in the country; of this, _mr. fuller_ and _mr. shelley_, who will probably attend the meeting, can, if they please, give full testimony. it is, however, not in their power to contradict it. having thus indulged myself in recollecting a place where i formerly had, and even now have, many friends, rich and poor, and most probably some enemies, i proceed to the more important purport of my letter. since my departure from lewes, fortune or providence has thrown me into a line of action, which my first setting out into life could not possibly have suggested to me. i have seen the fine and fertile country of america ravaged and deluged in blood, and the taxes of england enormously increased and multiplied in consequence thereof; and this, in a great measure, by the instigation of the same class of placemen, pensioners, and court dependants, who are now promoting addresses throughout england, on the present _unintelligible_ proclamation. i have also seen a system of government rise up in that country, free from corruption, and now administered over an extent of territory ten times as large as england, _for less expence than the pensions alone in england amount to_; and under which more freedom is enjoyed, and a more happy state of society is preserved, and a more general prosperity is promoted, than under any other system of government now existing in the world. knowing, as i do, the things i now declare, i should reproach myself with want of duty and affection to mankind, were i not in the most undismayed manner to publish them, as it were, on the house-tops, for the good of others. having thus glanced at what has passed within my knowledge, since my leaving lewes, i come to the subject more immediately before the meeting now present. mr. edmund burke, who, as i shall show, in a future publication, has lived a concealed pensioner, at the expence of the public, of fifteen hundred pounds per annum, for about ten years last past, published a book the winter before last, in open violation of the principles of liberty, and for which he was applauded by that class of men _who are now promoting addresses_. soon after his book appeared, i published the first part of the work, entitled "rights of man," as an answer thereto, and had the happiness of receiving the public thanks of several bodies of men, and of numerous individuals of the best character, of every denomination in religion, and of every rank in life--placemen and pensioners excepted. in february last, i published the second part of "rights of man," and as it met with still greater approbation from the true friends of national freedom, and went deeper into the system of government, and exposed the abuses of it, more than had been done in the first part, it consequently excited an alarm among all those, who, insensible of the burthen of taxes which the general mass of the people sustain, are living in luxury and indolence, and hunting after court preferments, sinecure places, and pensions, either for themselves, or for their family connections. i have shewn in that work, that the taxes may be reduced at least _six millions_, and even then the expences of government in england would be twenty times greater than they are in the country i have already spoken of. that taxes may be entirely taken off from the poor, by remitting to them in money at the rate of between _three and four pounds_ per head per annum, for the education and bringing up of the children of the poor families, who are computed at one third of the whole nation, and _six pounds_ per annum to all poor persons, decayed tradesmen, or others, from the age of fifty until sixty, and _ten pounds_ per annum from after sixty. and that in consequence of this allowance, to be paid out of the surplus taxes, the poor-rates would become unnecessary, and that it is better to apply the surplus taxes to these beneficent purposes, _than to waste them on idle and profligate courtiers, placemen, and pensioners_. these, gentlemen, are a part of the plans and principles contained in the work, which this meeting is now called upon, in an indirect manner, to vote an address against, and brand with the name of _wicked and seditious_. but that the work may speak for itself, i request leave to close this part of my letter with an extract therefrom, in the following words: [_quotation the same as that on p. _.] gentlemen, i have now stated to you such matters as appear necessary to me to offer to the consideration of the meeting. i have no other interest in what i am doing, nor in writing you this letter, than the interest of the _heart_. i consider the proposed address as calculated to give countenance to placemen, pensioners, enormous taxation, and corruption. many of you will recollect, that whilst i resided among you, there was not a man more firm and open in supporting the principles of liberty than myself, and i still pursue, and ever will, the same path. i have, gentlemen, only one request to make, which is--that those who have called the meeting will speak _out_, and say, whether in the address they are going to present against publications, which the proclamation calls wicked, they mean the work entitled _rights of man_, or whether they do not? i am, gentlemen, with sincere wishes for your happiness, your friend and servant, thomas paine. viii. to mr. secretary dundas. calais, sept. , . sir, i conceive it necessary to make you acquainted with the following circumstance:--the department of calais having elected me a member of the national convention of france, i set off from london the th instant, in company with mr. frost, of spring garden, and mr. audibert, one of the municipal officers of calais, who brought me the certificate of my being elected. we had not arrived more, i believe, than five minutes at the york hotel, at dover, when the train of circumstances began that i am going to relate. we had taken our baggage out of the carriage, and put it into a room, into which we went. mr. frost, having occasion to go out, was stopped in the passage by a gentleman, who told him he must return into the room, which he did, and the gentleman came in with him, and shut the door. i had remained in the room; mr. audibert was gone to inquire when the packet was to sail. the gentleman then said, that he was collector of the customs, and had an information against us, and must examine our baggage for prohibited articles. he produced his commission as collector. mr. frost demanded to see the information, which the collector refused to shew, and continued to refuse, on every demand that we made. the collector then called in several other officers, and began first to search our pockets. he took from mr. audibert, who was then returned into the room, every thing he found in his pocket, and laid it on the table. he then searched mr. frost in the same manner, (who, among other things, had the keys of the trunks in his pocket,) and then did the same by me. mr. frost wanting to go out, mentioned it, and was going towards the door; on which the collector placed himself against the door, and said, nobody should depart the room. after the keys had been taken from mr. frost, (for i had given him the keys of my trunks beforehand, for the purpose of his attending the baggage to the customs, if it should be necessary,) the collector asked us to open the trunks, presenting us the keys for that purpose; this we declined to do, unless he would produce his information, which he again refused. the collector then opened the trunks himself, and took out every paper and letter, sealed or unsealed. on our remonstrating with him on the bad policy, as well as the illegality, of custom-house officers seizing papers and letters, which were things that did not come under their cognizance, he replied, that the _proclamation_ gave him the authority. among the letters which he took out of my trunk, were two sealed letters, given into my charge by the american minister in london [pinckney], one of which was directed to the american minister at paris [gouverneur morris], the other to a private gentleman; a letter from the president of the united states, and a letter from the secretary of state in america, both directed to me, and which i had received from the american minister, now in london, and were private letters of friendship; a letter from the electoral body of the department of calais, containing the notification of my being elected to the national convention; and a letter from the president of the national assembly, informing me of my being also elected for the department of the oise. as we found that all remonstrances with the collector, on the bad policy and illegality of seizing papers and letters, and retaining our persons by force, under the pretence of searching for prohibited articles, were vain, (for he justified himself on the proclamation, and on the information which he refused to shew,) we contented ourselves with assuring him, that what he was then doing, he would afterwards have to answer for, and left it to himself to do as he pleased. it appeared to us that the collector was acting under the direction of some other person or persons, then in the hotel, but whom he did not choose we should see, or who did not choose to be seen by us; for the collector went several times out of the room for a few minutes, and was also called out several times. when the collector had taken what papers and letters he pleased out of the trunks, he proceeded to read them. the first letter he took up for this purpose was that from the president of the united states to me. while he was doing this, i said, that it was very extraordinary that general washington could not write a letter of private friendship to me, without its being subject to be read by a custom-house officer. upon this mr. frost laid his hand over the face of the letter, and told the collector that he should not read it, and took it from him. mr. frost then, casting his eyes on the concluding paragraph of the letter, said, i will read this part to you, which he did; of which the following is an exact transcript-- "and as no one can feel a greater interest in the happiness of mankind than i do, it is the first wish of my heart, that the enlightened policy of the present age may diffuse to all men those blessings to which they are entitled, and lay the foundation of happiness for future generations."( ) as all the other letters and papers lay then on the table, the collector took them up, and was going out of the room with them. during the transactions already stated, i contented myself with observing what passed, and spoke but little; but on seeing the collector going out of the room with the letters, i told him that the papers and letters then in his hand were either belonging to me, or entrusted to my charge, and that as i could not permit them to be out of my sight, i must insist on going with him. washington's letter is dated may, . see my _life of paine_ vol. i., p. .--_editor_. the collector then made a list of the letters and papers, and went out of the room, giving the letters and papers into the charge of one of the officers. he returned in a short time, and, after some trifling conversation, chiefly about the proclamation, told us, that he saw _the proclamation was ill-founded_, and asked if we chose to put the letters and papers into the trunks ourselves, which, as we had not taken them out, we declined doing, and he did it himself, and returned us the keys. in stating to you these matters, i make no complaint against the personal conduct of the collector, or of any of the officers. their manner was as civil as such an extraordinary piece of business could admit of. my chief motive in writing to you on this subject is, that you may take measures for preventing the like in future, not only as it concerns private individuals, but in order to prevent a renewal of those unpleasant consequences that have heretofore arisen between nations from circumstances equally as insignificant. i mention this only for myself; but as the interruption extended to two other gentlemen, it is probable that they, as individuals, will take some more effectual mode for redress. i am, sir, yours, &c. thomas paine. p. s. among the papers seized, was a copy of the attorney-general's information against me for publishing the _rights of man_, and a printed proof copy of my letter to the addressers, which will soon be published. ix. letter addressed to the addressers on the late proclamation.( ) could i have commanded circumstances with a wish, i know not of any that would have more generally promoted the progress of knowledge, than the late proclamation, and the numerous rotten borough and corporation addresses thereon. they have not only served as advertisements, but they have excited a spirit of enquiry into principles of government, and a desire to read the rights of man, in places where that spirit and that work were before unknown. the people of england, wearied and stunned with parties, and alternately deceived by each, had almost resigned the prerogative of thinking. even curiosity had expired, and a universal languor had spread itself over the land. the opposition was visibly no other than a contest for power, whilst the mass of the nation stood torpidly by as the prize. in this hopeless state of things, the first part of the rights of man made its appearance. it had to combat with a strange mixture of prejudice and indifference; it stood exposed to every species of newspaper abuse; and besides this, it had to remove the obstructions which mr. burke's rude and outrageous attack on the french revolution had artfully raised. the royal proclamation issued against seditious writings, may st. this pamphlet, the proof of which was read in paris (see p. s. of preceding chapter), was published at s. d. by h. d. symonds, paternoster row, and thomas clio rickman, upper marylebone street (where it was written), both pub-ushers being soon after prosecuted.--_editor_. but how easy does even the most illiterate reader distinguish the spontaneous sensations of the heart, from the laboured productions of the brain. truth, whenever it can fully appear, is a thing so naturally familiar to the mind, that an acquaintance commences at first sight. no artificial light, yet discovered, can display all the properties of daylight; so neither can the best invented fiction fill the mind with every conviction which truth begets. to overthrow mr. burke's fallacious book was scarcely the operation of a day. even the phalanx of placemen and pensioners, who had given the tone to the multitude, by clamouring forth his political fame, became suddenly silent; and the final event to himself has been, that as he rose like a rocket, he fell like the stick. it seldom happens, that the mind rests satisfied with the simple detection of error or imposition. once put in motion, _that_ motion soon becomes accelerated; where it had intended to stop, it discovers new reasons to proceed, and renews and continues the pursuit far beyond the limits it first prescribed to itself. thus it has happened to the people of england. from a detection of mr. burke's incoherent rhapsodies, and distorted facts, they began an enquiry into the first principles of government, whilst himself, like an object left far behind, became invisible and forgotten. much as the first part of rights of man impressed at its first appearance, the progressive mind soon discovered that it did not go far enough. it detected errors; it exposed absurdities; it shook the fabric of political superstition; it generated new ideas; but it did not produce a regular system of principles in the room of those which it displaced. and, if i may guess at the mind of the government-party, they beheld it as an unexpected gale that would soon blow over, and they forbore, like sailors in threatening weather, to whistle, lest they should encrease(sic) the wind. every thing, on their part, was profound silence. when the second part of _rights of man, combining principle and practice_, was preparing to appear, they affected, for a while, to act with the same policy as before; but finding their silence had no more influence in stifling the progress of the work, than it would have in stopping the progress of time, they changed their plan, and affected to treat it with clamorous contempt. the speech-making placemen and pensioners, and place-expectants, in both houses of parliament, the _outs_ as well as the _ins_, represented it as a silly, insignificant performance; as a work incapable of producing any effect; as something which they were sure the good sense of the people would either despise or indignantly spurn; but such was the overstrained awkwardness with which they harangued and encouraged each other, that in the very act of declaring their confidence they betrayed their fears. as most of the rotten borough addressers are obscured in holes and corners throughout the country, and to whom a newspaper arrives as rarely as an almanac, they most probably have not had the opportunity of knowing how far this part of the farce (the original prelude to all the addresses) has been acted. for _their_ information, i will suspend a while the more serious purpose of my letter, and entertain them with two or three speeches in the last session of parliament, which will serve them for politics till parliament meets again. you must know, gentlemen, that the second part of the rights of man (the book against which you have been presenting addresses, though it is most probable that many of you did not know it) was to have come out precisely at the time that parliament last met. it happened not to be published till a few days after. but as it was very well known that the book would shortly appear, the parliamentary orators entered into a very cordial coalition to cry the book down, and they began their attack by crying up the _blessings_ of the constitution. had it been your fate to have been there, you could not but have been moved at the heart-and-pocket-felt congratulations that passed between all the parties on this subject of _blessings_; for the _outs_ enjoy places and pensions and sinecures as well as the _ins_, and are as devoutly attached to the firm of the house. one of the most conspicuous of this motley groupe, is the clerk of the court of king's bench, who calls himself lord stormont. he is also called justice general of scotland, and keeper of scoon, (an opposition man,) and he draws from the public for these nominal offices, not less, as i am informed, than six thousand pounds a-year, and he is, most probably, at the trouble of counting the money, and signing a receipt, to shew, perhaps, that he is qualified to be clerk as well as justice. he spoke as follows.(*) "that we shall all be unanimous in expressing our attachment to the constitution of these realms, i am confident. it is a subject upon which there can be no divided opinion in this house. i do not pretend to be deep read in the knowledge of the constitution, but i take upon me to say, that from the extent of my knowledge [_for i have so many thousands a year for nothing_] it appears to me, that from the period of the revolution, for it was by no means created then, it has been, both in theory and practice, the wisest system that ever was formed. i never was [he means he never was till now] a dealer in political cant. my life has not been occupied in that way, but the speculations of late years seem to have taken a turn, for which i cannot account. when i came into public life, the political pamphlets of the time, however they might be charged with the heat and violence of parties, were agreed in extolling the radical beauties of the constitution itself. i remember [_he means he has forgotten_] a most captivating eulogium on its charms, by lord bolingbroke, where he recommends his readers to contemplate it in all its aspects, with the assurance that it would be found more estimable the more it was seen, i do not recollect his precise words, but i wish that men who write upon these subjects would take this for their model, instead of the political pamphlets, which, i am told, are now in circulation, [_such, i suppose, as rights of man,_] pamphlets which i have not read, and whose purport i know only by report, [_he means, perhaps, by the noise they make_.] this, however, i am sure, that pamphlets tending to unsettle the public reverence for the constitution, will have very little influence. they can do very little harm--for [_by the bye, he is no dealer in political cant_] the english are a sober-thinking people, and are more intelligent, more solid, more steady in their opinions, than any people i ever had the fortune to see. [_this is pretty well laid on, though, for a new beginner_.] but if there should ever come a time when the propagation of those doctrines should agitate the public mind, i am sure for every one of your lordships, that no attack will be made on the constitution, from which it is truly said that we derive all our prosperity, without raising every one of your lordships to its support it will then be found that there is no difference among us, but that we are all determined to stand or fall together, in defence of the inestimable system "--[_of places and pensions_]. * see his speech in the morning chronicle of feb. .-- author. after stormont, on the opposition side, sat down, up rose another noble lord, on the ministerial side, grenville. this man ought to be as strong in the back as a mule, or the sire of a mule, or it would crack with the weight of places and offices. he rose, however, without feeling any incumbrance, full master of his weight; and thus said this noble lord to t'other noble lord! "the patriotic and manly manner in which the noble lord has declared his sentiments on the subject of the constitution, demands my cordial approbation. the noble viscount has proved, that however we may differ on particular measures, amidst all the jars and dissonance of parties, we are unanimous in principle. there is a perfect and entire consent [_between us_] in the love and maintenance of the constitution as happily subsisting. it must undoubtedly give your lordships concern, to find that the time is come [heigh ho!] when there is propriety in the expressions of regard to [o! o! o!] the constitution. and that there are men [confound--their--po-li-tics] who disseminate doctrines hostile to the genuine spirit of our well balanced system, [_it is certainly well balanced when both sides hold places and pensions at once._] i agree with the noble viscount that they have not [i hope] much success. i am convinced that there is no danger to be apprehended from their attempts: but it is truly important and consolatory [to us placemen, i suppose] to know, that if ever there should arise a serious alarm, there is but one spirit, one sense, [_and that sense i presume is not common sense_] and one determination in this house "--which undoubtedly is to hold all their places and pensions as long as they can. both those speeches (except the parts enclosed in parenthesis, which are added for the purpose of illustration) are copied verbatim from the morning chronicle of the st of february last; and when the situation of the speakers is considered, the one in the opposition, and the other in the ministry, and both of them living at the public expence, by sinecure, or nominal places and offices, it required a very unblushing front to be able to deliver them. can those men seriously suppose any nation to be so completely blind as not to see through them? can stormont imagine that the political _cant_, with which he has larded his harangue, will conceal the craft? does he not know that there never was a cover large enough to hide _itself_? or can grenvilie believe that his credit with the public encreases with his avarice for places? but, if these orators will accept a service from me, in return for the allusions they have made to the _rights of man_, i will make a speech for either of them to deliver, on the excellence of the constitution, that shall be as much to the purpose as what they have spoken, or as _bolingbroke's captivating eulogium_. here it is. "that we shall all be unanimous in expressing our attachment to the constitution, i am confident. it is, my lords, incomprehensibly good: but the great wonder of all is the wisdom; for it is, my lords, _the wisest system that ever was formed_. "with respect to us, noble lords, though the world does not know it, it is very well known to us, that we have more wisdom than we know what to do with; and what is still better, my lords, we have it all in stock. i defy your lordships to prove, that a tittle of it has been used yet; and if we but go on, my lords, with the frugality we have hitherto done, we shall leave to our heirs and successors, when we go out of the world, the whole stock of wisdom, _untouched_, that we brought in; and there is no doubt but they will follow our example. this, my lords, is one of the blessed effects of the hereditary system; for we can never be without wisdom so long as we keep it by us, and do not use it. "but, my lords, as all this wisdom is hereditary property, for the sole benefit of us and our heirs, and it is necessary that the people should know where to get a supply for their own use, the excellence of our constitution has provided us a king for this very purpose, and for _no other_. but, my lords, i perceive a defect to which the constitution is subject, and which i propose to remedy by bringing a bill into parliament for that purpose. "the constitution, my lords, out of delicacy, i presume, has left it as a matter of _choice_ to a king whether he will be wise or not. it has not, i mean, my lords, insisted upon it as a constitutional point, which, i conceive it ought to have done; for i pledge myself to your lordships to prove, and that with _true patriotic boldness_, that he has _no choice in the matter_. this bill, my lords, which i shall bring in, will be to declare, that the constitution, according to the true intent and meaning thereof, does not invest the king with this choice; our ancestors were too wise to do that; and, in order to prevent any doubts that might otherwise arise, i shall prepare, my lords, an enacting clause, to fix the wisdom of kings by act of parliament; and then, my lords our constitution will be the wonder of the world! "wisdom, my lords, is the one thing needful: but that there may be no mistake in this matter, and that we may proceed consistently with the true wisdom of the constitution, i shall propose a _certain criterion_ whereby the _exact quantity of wisdom_ necessary for a king may be known. [here should be a cry of, hear him! hear him!] "it is recorded, my lords, in the statutes at large of the jews, 'a book, my lords, which i have not read, and whose purport i know only by report,' _but perhaps the bench of bishops can recollect something about it_, that saul gave the most convincing proofs of royal wisdom before he was made a king, _for he was sent to seek his father's asses and he could not find them_. "here, my lords, we have, most happily for us, a case in point: this precedent ought to be established by act of parliament; and every king, before he be crowned, should be sent to seek his father's asses, and if he cannot find them, he shall be declared wise enough to be king, according to the true meaning of our excellent constitution. all, therefore, my lords, that will be necessary to be done by the enacting clause that i shall bring in, will be to invest the king beforehand with the quantity of wisdom necessary for this purpose, lest he should happen not to possess it; and this, my lords, we can do without making use of any of our own. "we further read, my lords, in the said statutes at large of the jews, that samuel, who certainly was as mad as any man-of-rights-man now-a-days (hear him! hear him!), was highly displeased, and even exasperated, at the proposal of the jews to have a king, and he warned them against it with all that assurance and impudence of which he was master. i have been, my lords, at the trouble of going all the way to _paternoster-row_, to procure an extract from the printed copy. i was told that i should meet with it there, or in _amen-eorner_, for i was then going, my lords, to rummage for it among the curiosities of the _antiquarian society_. i will read the extracts to your lordships, to shew how little samuel knew of the matter. "the extract, my lords, is from sam. chap. viii.: "'and samuel told all the words of the lord unto the people that asked of him a king. "'and he said, this will be the manner of the king that shall reign over you: he will take your sons, and appoint them for himself, for his chariots, and to be his horsemen; and some shall run before his chariots. "'and he will appoint him captains over thousands, and captains over fifties, and will set them to ear his ground, and to reap his harvest, and to make his instruments of war, and instruments of his chariots. "'and he will take your daughters to be confectionnes, and to be cooks, and to be bakers. "'and he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and your olive-yards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants. "'and he will take the tenth of your seed, and of your vineyards, and give to his officers and to his servants. "'and he will take your men-servants, and your maid-servants, and your goodliest young men, and your asses, and put them to his work. "'and he will take the tenth of your sheep, and ye shall be his servants. "'and ye shall cry out in that day, because of your king, which ye shall have chosen you; and the lord will not hear you in that day.' "now, my lords, what can we think of this man samuel? is there a word of truth, or any thing like truth, in all that he has said? he pretended to be a prophet, or a wise man, but has not the event proved him to be a fool, or an incendiary? look around, my lords, and see if any thing has happened that he pretended to foretell! has not the most profound peace reigned throughout the world ever since kings were in fashion? are not, for example, the present kings of europe the most peaceable of mankind, and the empress of russia the very milk of human kindness? it would not be worth having kings, my lords, if it were not that they never go to war. "if we look at home, my lords, do we not see the same things here as are seen every where else? are our young men taken to be horsemen, or foot soldiers, any more than in germany or in prussia, or in hanover or in hesse? are not our sailors as safe at land as at sea? are they ever dragged from their homes, like oxen to the slaughter-house, to serve on board ships of war? when they return from the perils of a long voyage with the merchandize of distant countries, does not every man sit down under his own vine and his own fig-tree, in perfect security? is the tenth of our seed taken by tax-gatherers, or is any part of it given to the king's servants? in short, _is not everything as free from taxes as the light from heaven!_ ( ) "ah! my lords, do we not see the blessed effect of having kings in every thing we look at? is not the g. r., or the broad r., stampt upon every thing? even the shoes, the gloves, and the hats that we wear, are enriched with the impression, and all our candles blaze a burnt-offering. "besides these blessings, my lords, that cover us from the sole of the foot to the crown of the head, do we not see a race of youths growing up to be kings, who are the very paragons of virtue? there is not one of them, my lords, but might be trusted with untold gold, as safely as the other. are they not '_more sober, intelligent, more solid, more steady_,' and withal, _more learned, more wise, more every thing, than any youths we '_ever had the fortune to see.' ah! my lords, they are a _hopeful family_. "the blessed prospect of succession, which the nation has at this moment before its eyes, is a most undeniable proof of the excellence of our constitution, and of the blessed hereditary system; for nothing, my lords, but a constitution founded on the truest and purest wisdom could admit such heaven-born and heaven-taught characters into the government.--permit me now, my lords, to recal your attention to the libellous chapter i have just read about kings. i mention this, my lords, because it is my intention to move for a bill to be brought into parliament to expunge that chapter from the bible, and that the lord chancellor, with the assistance of the prince of wales, the duke of york, and the duke of clarence, be requested to write a chapter in the room of it; and that mr. burke do see that it be truly canonical, and faithfully inserted."--finis. allusion to the window-tax.--editor, if the clerk of the court of king's bench should chuse to be the orator of this luminous encomium on the constitution, i hope he will get it well by heart before he attempts to deliver it, and not have to apologize to parliament, as he did in the case of bolingbroke's encomium, for forgetting his lesson; and, with this admonition i leave him. having thus informed the addressers of what passed at the meeting of parliament, i return to take up the subject at the part where i broke off in order to introduce the preceding speeches. i was then stating, that the first policy of the government party was silence, and the next, clamorous contempt; but as people generally choose to read and judge for themselves, the work still went on, and the affectation of contempt, like the silence that preceded it, passed for nothing. thus foiled in their second scheme, their evil genius, like a will-with-a-wisp, led them to a third; when all at once, as if it had been unfolded to them by a fortune-teller, or mr. dundas had discovered it by second sight, this once harmless, insignificant book, without undergoing the alteration of a single letter, became a most wicked and dangerous libel. the whole cabinet, like a ship's crew, became alarmed; all hands were piped upon deck, as if a conspiracy of elements was forming around them, and out came the proclamation and the prosecution; and addresses supplied the place of prayers. ye silly swains, thought i to myself, why do you torment yourselves thus? the rights of man is a book calmly and rationally written; why then are you so disturbed? did you see how little or how suspicious such conduct makes you appear, even cunning alone, had you no other faculty, would hush you into prudence. the plans, principles, and arguments, contained in that work, are placed before the eyes of the nation, and of the world, in a fair, open, and manly manner, and nothing more is necessary than to refute them. do this, and the whole is done; but if ye cannot, so neither can ye suppress the reading, nor convict the author; for the law, in the opinion of all good men, would convict itself, that should condemn what cannot be refuted. having now shown the addressers the several stages of the business, prior to their being called upon, like cæsar in the tyber, crying to cassius, "_help, cassius, or i sink_!" i next come to remark on the policy of the government, in promoting addresses; on the consequences naturally resulting therefrom; and on the conduct of the persons concerned. with respect to the policy, it evidently carries with it every mark and feature of disguised fear. and it will hereafter be placed in the history of extraordinary things, that a pamphlet should be produced by an individual, unconnected with any sect or party, and not seeking to make any, and almost a stranger in the land, that should compleatly frighten a whole government, and that in the midst of its most triumphant security. such a circumstance cannot fail to prove, that either the pamphlet has irresistible powers, or the government very extraordinary defects, or both. the nation exhibits no signs of fear at the rights of man; why then should the government, unless the interest of the two are really opposite to each other, and the secret is beginning to be known? that there are two distinct classes of men in the nation, those who pay taxes, and those who receive and live upon the taxes, is evident at first sight; and when taxation is carried to excess, it cannot fail to disunite those two, and something of this kind is now beginning to appear. it is also curious to observe, amidst all the fume and bustle about proclamations and addresses, kept up by a few noisy and interested men, how little the mass of the nation seem to care about either. they appear to me, by the indifference they shew, not to believe a word the proclamation contains; and as to the addresses, they travel to london with the silence of a funeral, and having announced their arrival in the gazette, are deposited with the ashes of their predecessors, and mr. dundas writes their _hic facet_. one of the best effects which the proclamation, and its echo the addresses have had, has been that of exciting and spreading curiosity; and it requires only a single reflection to discover, that the object of all curiosity is knowledge. when the mass of the nation saw that placemen, pensioners, and borough-mongers, were the persons that stood forward to promote addresses, it could not fail to create suspicions that the public good was not their object; that the character of the books, or writings, to which such persons obscurely alluded, not daring to mention them, was directly contrary to what they described them to be, and that it was necessary that every man, for his own satisfaction, should exercise his proper right, and read and judge for himself. but how will the persons who have been induced to read the _rights of man_, by the clamour that has been raised against it, be surprized to find, that, instead of a wicked, inflammatory work, instead of a licencious and profligate performance, it abounds with principles of government that are uncontrovertible--with arguments which every reader will feel, are unanswerable--with plans for the increase of commerce and manufactures--for the extinction of war--for the education of the children of the poor--for the comfortable support of the aged and decayed persons of both sexes--for the relief of the army and navy, and, in short, for the promotion of every thing that can benefit the moral, civil, and political condition of man. why, then, some calm observer will ask, why is the work prosecuted, if these be the goodly matters it contains? i will tell thee, friend; it contains also a plan for the reduction of taxes, for lessening the immense expences of government, for abolishing sinecure places and pensions; and it proposes applying the redundant taxes, that shall be saved by these reforms, to the purposes mentioned in the former paragraph, instead of applying them to the support of idle and profligate placemen and pensioners. is it, then, any wonder that placemen and pensioners, and the whole train of court expectants, should become the promoters of addresses, proclamations, and prosecutions? or, is it any wonder that corporations and rotten boroughs, which are attacked and exposed, both in the first and second parts of _rights of man_, as unjust monopolies and public nuisances, should join in the cavalcade? yet these are the sources from which addresses have sprung. had not such persons come forward to oppose the _rights of man_, i should have doubted the efficacy of my own writings: but those opposers have now proved to me that the blow was well directed, and they have done it justice by confessing the smart. the principal deception in this business of addresses has been, that the promoters of them have not come forward in their proper characters. they have assumed to pass themselves upon the public as a part of the public, bearing a share of the burthen of taxes, and acting for the public good; whereas, they are in general that part of it that adds to the public burthen, by living on the produce of the public taxes. they are to the public what the locusts are to the tree: the burthen would be less, and the prosperity would be greater, if they were shaken off. "i do not come here," said onslow, at the surry county meeting, "as the lord lieutenant and custos rotulorum of the county, but i come here as a plain country gentleman." the fact is, that he came there as what he was, and as no other, and consequently he came as one of the beings i have been describing. if it be the character of a gentleman to be fed by the public, as a pauper is by the parish, onslow has a fair claim to the title; and the same description will suit the duke of richmond, who led the address at the sussex meeting. he also may set up for a gentleman. as to the meeting in the next adjoining county (kent), it was a scene of disgrace. about two hundred persons met, when a small part of them drew privately away from the rest, and voted an address: the consequence of which was that they got together by the ears, and produced a riot in the very act of producing an address to prevent riots. that the proclamation and the addresses have failed of their intended effect, may be collected from the silence which the government party itself observes. the number of addresses has been weekly retailed in the gazette; but the number of addressers has been concealed. several of the addresses have been voted by not more than ten or twelve persons; and a considerable number of them by not more than thirty. the whole number of addresses presented at the time of writing this letter is three hundred and twenty, (rotten boroughs and corporations included) and even admitting, on an average, one hundred addressers to each address, the whole number of addressers would be but thirty-two thousand, and nearly three months have been taken up in procuring this number. that the success of the proclamation has been less than the success of the work it was intended to discourage, is a matter within my own knowledge; for a greater number of the cheap edition of the first and second parts of the rights of man has been sold in the space only of one month, than the whole number of addressers (admitting them to be thirty-two thousand) have amounted to in three months. it is a dangerous attempt in any government to say to a nation, "_thou shalt not read_." this is now done in spain, and was formerly done under the old government of france; but it served to procure the downfall of the latter, and is subverting that of the former; and it will have the same tendency in all countries; because _thought_ by some means or other, is got abroad in the world, and cannot be restrained, though reading may. if _rights of man_ were a book that deserved the vile description which the promoters of the address have given of it, why did not these men prove their charge, and satisfy the people, by producing it, and reading it publicly? this most certainly ought to have been done, and would also have been done, had they believed it would have answered their purpose. but the fact is, that the book contains truths which those time-servers dreaded to hear, and dreaded that the people should know; and it is now following up the, address to addressers. addresses in every part of the nation, and convicting them of falsehoods. among the unwarrantable proceedings to which the proclamation has given rise, the meetings of the justices in several of the towns and counties ought to be noticed.. those men have assumed to re-act the farce of general warrants, and to suppress, by their own authority, whatever publications they please. this is an attempt at power equalled only by the conduct of the minor despots of the most despotic governments in europe, and yet those justices affect to call england a free country. but even this, perhaps, like the scheme for garrisoning the country by building military barracks, is necessary to awaken the country to a sense of its rights, and, as such, it will have a good effect. another part of the conduct of such justices has been, that of threatening to take away the licences from taverns and public-houses, where the inhabitants of the neighbourhood associated to read and discuss the principles of government, and to inform each other thereon. this, again, is similar to what is doing in spain and russia; and the reflection which it cannot fail to suggest is, that the principles and conduct of any government must be bad, when that government dreads and startles at discussion, and seeks security by a prevention of knowledge. if the government, or the constitution, or by whatever name it be called, be that miracle of perfection which the proclamation and the addresses have trumpeted it forth to be, it ought to have defied discussion and investigation, instead of dreading it. whereas, every attempt it makes, either by proclamation, prosecution, or address, to suppress investigation, is a confession that it feels itself unable to bear it. it is error only, and not truth, that shrinks from enquiry. all the numerous pamphlets, and all the newspaper falsehood and abuse, that have been published against the rights of man, have fallen before it like pointless arrows; and, in like manner, would any work have fallen before the constitution, had the constitution, as it is called, been founded on as good political principles as those on which the rights of man is written. it is a good constitution for courtiers, placemen, pensioners, borough-holders, and the leaders of parties, and these are the men that have been the active leaders of addresses; but it is a bad constitution for at least ninety-nine parts of the nation out of an hundred, and this truth is every day making its way. it is bad, first, because it entails upon the nation the unnecessary expence of supporting three forms and systems of government at once, namely, the monarchical, the aristocratical, and the democratical. secondly, because it is impossible to unite such a discordant composition by any other means than perpetual corruption; and therefore the corruption so loudly and so universally complained of, is no other than the natural consequence of such an unnatural compound of governments; and in this consists that excellence which the numerous herd of placemen and pensioners so loudly extol, and which at the same time, occasions that enormous load of taxes under which the rest of the nation groans. among the mass of national delusions calculated to amuse and impose upon the multitude, the standing one has been that of flattering them into taxes, by calling the government (or as they please to express it, the english constitution) "_the envy and the admiration of the world_" scarcely an address has been voted in which some of the speakers have not uttered this hackneyed nonsensical falsehood. two revolutions have taken place, those of america and france; and both of them have rejected the unnatural compounded system of the english government. america has declared against all hereditary government, and established the representative system of government only. france has entirely rejected the aristocratical part, and is now discovering the absurdity of the monarchical, and is approaching fast to the representative system. on what ground then, do these men continue a declaration, respecting what they call the _envy and admiration of other nations_, which the voluntary practice of such nations, as have had the opportunity of establishing government, contradicts and falsifies. will such men never confine themselves to truth? will they be for ever the deceivers of the people? but i will go further, and shew, that were government now to begin in england, the people could not be brought to establish the same system they now submit to. in speaking on this subject (or on any other) _on the pure ground of principle_, antiquity and precedent cease to be authority, and hoary-headed error loses its effect. the reasonableness and propriety of things must be examined abstractedly from custom and usage; and, in this point of view, the right which grows into practice to-day is as much a right, and as old in principle and theory, as if it had the customary sanction of a thousand ages. principles have no connection with time, nor characters with names. to say that the government of this country is composed of king, lords, and commons, is the mere phraseology of custom. it is composed of men; and whoever the men be to whom the government of any country is intrusted, they ought to be the best and wisest that can be found, and if they are not so, they are not fit for the station. a man derives no more excellence from the change of a name, or calling him king, or calling him lord, than i should do by changing my name from thomas to george, or from paine to guelph. i should not be a whit more able to write a book because my name was altered; neither would any man, now called a king or a lord, have a whit the more sense than he now has, were he to call himself thomas paine. as to the word "commons," applied as it is in england, it is a term of degradation and reproach, and ought to be abolished. it is a term unknown in free countries. but to the point.--let us suppose that government was now to begin in england, and that the plan of government, offered to the nation for its approbation or rejection, consisted of the following parts: first--that some one individual should be taken from all the rest of the nation, and to whom all the rest should swear obedience, and never be permitted to sit down in his presence, and that they should give to him one million sterling a year.--that the nation should never after have power or authority to make laws but with his express consent; and that his sons and his sons' sons, whether wise or foolish, good men or bad, fit or unfit, should have the same power, and also the same money annually paid to them for ever. secondly--that there should be two houses of legislators to assist in making laws, one of which should, in the first instance, be entirely appointed by the aforesaid person, and that their sons and their sons' sons, whether wise or foolish, good men or bad, fit or unfit, should for ever after be hereditary legislators. thirdly--that the other house should be chosen in the same manner as the house now called the house of commons is chosen, and should be subject to the controul of the two aforesaid hereditary powers in all things. it would be impossible to cram such a farrago of imposition and absurdity down the throat of this or any other nation that was capable of reasoning upon its rights and its interest. they would ask, in the first place, on what ground of right, or on what principle, such irrational and preposterous distinctions could, or ought to be made; and what pretensions any man could have, or what services he could render, to entitle him to a million a year? they would go farther, and revolt at the idea of consigning their children, and their children's children, to the domination of persons hereafter to be born, who might, for any thing they could foresee, turn out to be knaves or fools; and they would finally discover, that the project of hereditary governors and legislators _was a treasonable usurpation over the rights of posterity_. not only the calm dictates of reason, and the force of natural affection, but the integrity of manly pride, would impel men to spurn such proposals. from the grosser absurdities of such a scheme, they would extend their examination to the practical defects--they would soon see that it would end in tyranny accomplished by fraud. that in the operation of it, it would be two to one against them, because the two parts that were to be made hereditary would form a common interest, and stick to each other; and that themselves and representatives would become no better than hewers of wood and drawers of water for the other parts of the government.--yet call one of those powers king, the other lords, and the third the commons, and it gives the model of what is called the english government. i have asserted, and have shewn, both in the first and second parts of _rights of man_, that there is not such a thing as an english constitution, and that the people have yet a constitution to form. _a constitution is a thing antecedent to a government; it is the act of a people creating a government and giving it powers, and defining the limits and exercise of the powers so given_. but whenever did the people of england, acting in their original constituent character, by a delegation elected for that express purpose, declare and say, "we, the people of this land, do constitute and appoint this to be our system and form of government." the government has assumed to constitute itself, but it never was constituted by the people, in whom alone the right of constituting resides. i will here recite the preamble to the federal constitution of the united states of america. i have shewn in the second part of _rights of man_, the manner by which the constitution was formed and afterwards ratified; and to which i refer the reader. the preamble is in the following words: "we, the people, of the united states, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide for common defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this constitution for the united states of america." then follow the several articles which appoint the manner in which the several component parts of the government, legislative and executive, shall be elected, and the period of their duration, and the powers they shall have: also, the manner by which future additions, alterations, or amendments, shall be made to the constitution. consequently, every improvement that can be made in the science of government, follows in that country as a matter of order. it is only in governments founded on assumption and false principles, that reasoning upon, and investigating systems and principles of government, and shewing their several excellencies and defects, are termed libellous and seditious. these terms were made part of the charge brought against locke, hampden, and sydney, and will continue to be brought against all good men, so long as bad government shall continue. the government of this country has been ostentatiously giving challenges for more than an hundred years past, upon what it called its own excellence and perfection. scarcely a king's speech, or a parliamentary speech, has been uttered, in which this glove has not been thrown, till the world has been insulted with their challenges. but it now appears that all this was vapour and vain boasting, or that it was intended to conceal abuses and defects, and hush the people into taxes. i have taken the challenge up, and in behalf of the public have shewn, in a fair, open, and candid manner, both the radical and practical defects of the system; when, lo! those champions of the civil list have fled away, and sent the attorney-general to deny the challenge, by turning the acceptance of it into an attack, and defending their places and pensions by a prosecution. i will here drop this part of the subject, and state a few particulars respecting the prosecution now pending, by which the addressers will see that they have been used as tools to the prosecuting party and their dependents. the case is as follows: the original edition of the first and second parts of the rights of man, having been expensively printed, (in the modern stile of printing pamphlets, that they might be bound up with mr. burke's reflections on the french revolution,) the high price( ) precluded the generality of people from purchasing; and many applications were made to me from various parts of the country to print the work in a cheaper manner. the people of sheffield requested leave to print two thousand copies for themselves, with which request i immediately complied. the same request came to me from rotherham, from leicester, from chester, from several towns in scotland; and mr. james mackintosh, author of _vindico gallico_, brought me a request from warwickshire, for leave to print ten thousand copies in that county. i had already sent a cheap edition to scotland; and finding the applications increase, i concluded that the best method of complying therewith, would be to print a very numerous edition in london, under my own direction, by which means the work would be more perfect, and the price be reduced lower than it could be by _printing_ small editions in the country, of only a few thousands each. half a crown.--_editor_. the cheap edition of the first part was begun about the first of last april, and from that moment, and not before, i expected a prosecution, and the event has proved that i was not mistaken. i had then occasion to write to mr. thomas walker of manchester, and after informing him of my intention of giving up the work for the purpose of general information, i informed him of what i apprehended would be the consequence; that while the work was at a price that precluded an extensive circulation, the government party, not able to controvert the plans, arguments, and principles it contained, had chosen to remain silent; but that i expected they would make an attempt to deprive the mass of the nation, and especially the poor, of the right of reading, by the pretence of prosecuting either the author or the publisher, or both. they chose to begin with the publisher. nearly a month, however, passed, before i had any information given me of their intentions. i was then at bromley, in kent, upon which i came immediately to town, (may ) and went to mr. jordan, the publisher of the original edition. he had that evening been served with a summons to appear at the court of king's bench, on the monday following, but for what purpose was not stated. supposing it to be on account of the work, i appointed a meeting with him on the next morning, which was accordingly had, when i provided an attorney, and took the ex-pence of the defence on myself. but finding afterwards that he absented himself from the attorney employed, and had engaged another, and that he had been closeted with the solicitors of the treasury, i left him to follow his own choice, and he chose to plead guilty. this he might do if he pleased; and i make no objection against him for it. i believe that his idea by the word _guilty_, was no other than declaring himself to be the publisher, without any regard to the merits or demerits of the work; for were it to be construed otherwise, it would amount to the absurdity of converting a publisher into a jury, and his confession into a verdict upon the work itself. this would be the highest possible refinement upon packing of juries. on the st of may, they commenced their prosecution against me, as the author, by leaving a summons at my lodgings in town, to appear at the court of king's bench on the th of june following; and on the same day, (may ,) _they issued also their proclamation_. thus the court of st. james and the court of king's bench, were playing into each other's hands at the same instant of time, and the farce of addresses brought up the rear; and this mode of proceeding is called by the prostituted name of law. such a thundering rapidity, after a ministerial dormancy of almost eighteen months, can be attributed to no other cause than their having gained information of the forwardness of the cheap edition, and the dread they felt at the progressive increase of political knowledge. i was strongly advised by several gentlemen, as well those in the practice of the law, as others, to prefer a bill of indictment against the publisher of the proclamation, as a publication tending to influence, or rather to dictate the verdict of a jury on the issue of a matter then pending; but it appeared to me much better to avail myself of the opportunity which such a precedent justified me in using, by meeting the proclamation and the addressers on their own ground, and publicly defending the work which had been thus unwarrantably attacked and traduced.--and conscious as i now am, that the work entitled rights of man so far from being, as has been maliciously or erroneously represented, a false, wicked, and seditious libel, is a work abounding with unanswerable truths, with principles of the purest morality and benevolence, and with arguments not to be controverted--conscious, i say, of these things, and having no object in view but the happiness of mankind, i have now put the matter to the best proof in my power, by giving to the public a cheap edition of the first and second parts of that work. let every man read and judge for himself, not only of the merits and demerits of the work, but of the matters therein contained, which relate to his own interest and happiness. if, to expose the fraud and imposition of monarchy, and every species of hereditary government--to lessen the oppression of taxes--to propose plans for the education of helpless infancy, and the comfortable support of the aged and distressed--to endeavour to conciliate nations to each other--to extirpate the horrid practice of war--to promote universal peace, civilization, and commerce--and to break the chains of political superstition, and raise degraded man to his proper rank;--if these things be libellous, let me live the life of a libeller, and let the name of libeller be engraved on my tomb. of all the weak and ill-judged measures which fear, ignorance, or arrogance could suggest, the proclamation, and the project for addresses, are two of the worst. they served to advertise the work which the promoters of those measures wished to keep unknown; and in doing this they offered violence to the judgment of the people, by calling on them to condemn what they forbad them to know, and put the strength of their party to that hazardous issue that prudence would have avoided.--the county meeting for middlesex was attended by only one hundred and eighteen addressers. they, no doubt, expected, that thousands would flock to their standard, and clamor against the _rights of man_. but the case most probably is, that men in all countries, are not so blind to their rights and their interest as governments believe. having thus shewn the extraordinary manner in which the government party commenced their attack, i proceed to offer a few observations on the prosecution, and on the mode of trial by special jury. in the first place, i have written a book; and if it cannot be refuted, it cannot be condemned. but i do not consider the prosecution as particularly levelled against me, but against the general right, or the right of every man, of investigating systems and principles of government, and shewing their several excellencies or defects. if the press be free only to flatter government, as mr. burke has done, and to cry up and extol what certain court sycophants are pleased to call a "glorious constitution," and not free to examine into its errors or abuses, or whether a constitution really exist or not, such freedom is no other than that of spain, turkey, or russia; and a jury in this case, would not be a jury to try, but an inquisition to condemn. i have asserted, and by fair and open argument maintained, the right of every nation at all times to establish such a system and form of government for itself as best accords with its disposition, interest, and happiness; and to change and alter it as it sees occasion. will any jury deny to the nation this right? if they do, they are traitors, and their verdict would be null and void. and if they admit the right, the means must be admitted also; for it would be the highest absurdity to say, that the right existed, but the means did not. the question then is, what are the means by which the possession and exercise of this national right are to be secured? the answer will be, that of maintaining, inviolably, the right of free investigation; for investigation always serves to detect error, and to bring forth truth. i have, as an individual, given my opinion upon what i believe to be not only the best, but the true system of government, which is the representative system, and i have given reasons for that opinion. first, because in the representative system, no office of very extraordinary power, or extravagant pay, is attached to any individual; and consequently there is nothing to excite those national contentions and civil wars with which countries under monarchical governments are frequently convulsed, and of which the history of england exhibits such numerous instances. secondly, because the representative is a system of government always in maturity; whereas monarchical government fluctuates through all the stages, from non-age to dotage. thirdly, because the representative system admits of none but men properly qualified into the government, or removes them if they prove to be otherwise. whereas, in the hereditary system, a nation may be encumbered with a knave or an ideot for a whole life-time, and not be benefited by a successor. fourthly, because there does not exist a right to establish hereditary government, or, in other words, hereditary successors, because hereditary government always means a government yet to come, and the case always is, that those who are to live afterwards have the same right to establish government for themselves, as the people had who lived before them; and, therefore, all laws attempting to establish hereditary government, are founded on assumption and political fiction. if these positions be truths, and i challenge any man to prove the contrary; if they tend to instruct and enlighten mankind, and to free them from error, oppression, and political superstition, which are the objects i have in view in publishing them, that jury would commit an act of injustice to their country, and to me, if not an act of perjury, that should call them _false, wicked, and malicious_. dragonetti, in his treatise "on virtues and rewards," has a paragraph worthy of being recorded in every country in the world--"the science (says he,) of the politician, consists, in, fixing the true point of happiness and freedom. those men deserve the gratitude of ages who should discover a mode of government that contained the greatest sum of _individual happiness_ with the least _national expence_." but if juries are to be made use of to prohibit enquiry, to suppress truth, and to stop the progress of knowledge, this boasted palladium of liberty becomes the most successful instrument of tyranny. among the arts practised at the bar, and from the bench, to impose upon the understanding of a jury, and to obtain a verdict where the consciences of men could not otherwise consent, one of the most successful has been that of calling _truth a libel_, and of insinuating that the words "_falsely, wickedly, and maliciously_," though they are made the formidable and high sounding part of the charge, are not matters of consideration with a jury. for what purpose, then, are they retained, unless it be for that of imposition and wilful defamation? i cannot conceive a greater violation of order, nor a more abominable insult upon morality, and upon human understanding, than to see a man sitting in the judgment seat, affecting by an antiquated foppery of dress to impress the audience with awe; then causing witnesses and jury to be sworn to truth and justice, himself having officially sworn the same; then causing to be read a prosecution against a man charging him with having _wickedly and maliciously written and published a certain false, wicked, and seditious book_; and having gone through all this with a shew of solemnity, as if he saw the eye of the almighty darting through the roof of the building like a ray of light, turn, in an instant, the whole into a farce, and, in order to obtain a verdict that could not otherwise be obtained, tell the jury that the charge of _falsely, wickedly, and seditiously_, meant nothing; that _truth_ was out of the question; and that whether the person accused spoke truth or falsehood, or intended _virtuously or wickedly_, was the same thing; and finally conclude the wretched inquisitorial scene, by stating some antiquated precedent, equally as abominable as that which is then acting, or giving some opinion of his own, and _falsely calling the one and the other--law_. it was, most probably, to such a judge as this, that the most solemn of all reproofs was given--"_the lord will smite thee, thou whitened wall_." i now proceed to offer some remarks on what is called a special jury. as to what is called a special verdict, i shall make no other remark upon it, than that it is in reality _not_ a verdict. it is an attempt on the part of the jury to delegate, or of the bench to obtain, the exercise of that right, which is committed to the jury only. with respect to the special juries, i shall state such matters as i have been able to collect, for i do not find any uniform opinion concerning the mode of appointing them. in the first place, this mode of trial is but of modern invention, and the origin of it, as i am told, is as follows: formerly, when disputes arose between merchants, and were brought before a court, the case was that the nature of their commerce, and the method of keeping merchants' accounts not being sufficiently understood by persons out of their own line, it became necessary to depart from the common mode of appointing juries, and to select such persons for a jury whose _practical knowledge_ would enable them to decide upon the case. from this introduction, special juries became more general; but some doubts having arisen as to their legality, an act was passed in the d of george ii. to establish them as legal, and also to extend them to all cases, not only between individuals, but in cases where _the government itself should be the prosecutor_. this most probably gave rise to the suspicion so generally entertained of packing a jury; because, by this act, when the crown, as it is called, is the prosecutor, the master of the crown-office, who holds his office under the crown, is the person who either wholly nominates, or has great power in nominating the jury, and therefore it has greatly the appearance of the prosecuting party selecting a jury. the process is as follows: on motion being made in court, by either the plaintiff or defendant, for a special jury, the court grants it or not, at its own discretion. if it be granted, the solicitor of the party that applied for the special jury, gives notice to the solicitor of the adverse party, and a day and hour are appointed for them to meet at the office of the master of the crown-office. the master of the crown-office sends to the sheriff or his deputy, who attends with the sheriff's book of freeholders. from this book, forty-eight names are taken, and a copy thereof given to each of the parties; and, on a future day, notice is again given, and the solicitors meet a second time, and each strikes out twelve names. the list being thus reduced from forty-eight to twenty-four, the first twelve that appear in court, and answer to their names, is the special jury for that cause. the first operation, that of taking the forty-eight names, is called nominating the jury; and the reducing them to twenty-four is called striking the jury. having thus stated the general process, i come to particulars, and the first question will be, how are the forty-eight names, out of which the jury is to be struck, obtained from the sheriff's book? for herein lies the principal ground of suspicion, with respect to what is understood by packing of juries. either they must be taken by some rule agreed upon between the parties, or by some common rule known and established beforehand, or at the discretion of some person, who in such a case, ought to be perfectly disinterested in the issue, as well officially as otherwise. in the case of merchants, and in all cases between individuals, the master of the office, called the crown-office, is officially an indifferent person, and as such may be a proper person to act between the parties, and present them with a list of forty-eight names, out of which each party is to strike twelve. but the case assumes an entire difference of character, when the government itself is the prosecutor. the master of the crown-office is then an officer holding his office under the prosecutor; and it is therefore no wonder that the suspicion of packing juries should, in such cases, have been so prevalent. this will apply with additional force, when the prosecution is commenced against the author or publisher of such works as treat of reforms, and of the abolition of superfluous places and offices, &c, because in such cases every person holding an office, subject to that suspicion, becomes interested as a party; and the office, called the crown-office, may, upon examination, be found to be of this description. i have heard it asserted, that the master of the crown-office is to open the sheriff's book as it were per hazard, and take thereout forty-eight _following_ names, to which the word merchant or esquire is affixed. the former of these are certainly proper, when the case is between merchants, and it has reference to the origin of the custom, and to nothing else. as to the word esquire, every man is an esquire who pleases to call himself esquire; and the sensible part of mankind are leaving it off. but the matter for enquiry is, whether there be any existing law to direct the mode by which the forty-eight names shall be taken, or whether the mode be merely that of custom which the office has created; or whether the selection of the forty-eight names be wholly at the discretion and choice of the master of the crown-office? one or other of the two latter appears to be the case, because the act already mentioned, of the d of george ii. lays down no rule or mode, nor refers to any preceding law--but says only, that special juries shall hereafter be struck, "_in such manner as special juries have been and are usually struck_." this act appears to have been what is generally understood by a "_deep take in_." it was fitted to the spur of the moment in which it was passed, d of george ii. when parties ran high, and it served to throw into the hands of walpole, who was then minister, the management of juries in crown prosecutions, by making the nomination of the forty-eight persons, from whom the jury was to be struck, follow the precedent established by custom between individuals, and by this means slipt into practice with less suspicion. now, the manner of obtaining special juries through the medium of an officer of the government, such, for instance, as a master of the crown-office, may be impartial in the case of merchants or other individuals, but it becomes highly improper and suspicious in cases where the government itself is one of the parties. and it must, upon the whole, appear a strange inconsistency, that a government should keep one officer to commence prosecutions, and another officer to nominate the forty-eight persons from whom the jury is to be struck, both of whom are _officers of the civil list_, and yet continue to call this by the pompous name of _the glorious "right of trial by jury!_" in the case of the king against jordan, for publishing the rights of man, the attorney-general moved for the appointment of a special jury, and the master of the crown-office nominated the forty-eight persons himself, and took them from such part of the sheriff's book as he pleased. the trial did not come on, occasioned by jordan withdrawing his plea; but if it had, it might have afforded an opportunity of discussing the subject of special juries; for though such discussion might have had no effect in the court of king's bench, it would, in the present disposition for enquiry, have had a considerable effect upon the country; and, in all national reforms, this is the proper point to begin at. but a country right, and it will soon put government right. among the improper things acted by the government in the case of special juries, on their own motion, one has been that of treating the jury with a dinner, and afterwards giving each juryman two guineas, if a verdict be found for the prosecution, and only one if otherwise; and it has been long observed, that, in london and westminster, there are persons who appear to make a trade of serving, by being so frequently seen upon special juries. thus much for special juries. as to what is called a _common jury_, upon any government prosecution against the author or publisher of rights of man, during the time of the _present sheriffry_, i have one question to offer, which is, _whether the present sheriffs of london, having publicly prejudged the case, by the part they have taken in procuring an address from the county of middlesex, (however diminutive and insignificant the number of addressers were, being only one hundred and eighteen,) are eligible or proper persons to be intrusted with the power of returning a jury to try the issue of any such prosecution_. but the whole matter appears, at least to me, to be worthy of a more extensive consideration than what relates to any jury, whether special or common; for the case is, whether any part of a whole nation, locally selected as a jury of twelve men always is, be competent to judge and determine for the whole nation, on any matter that relates to systems and principles of government, and whether it be not applying the institution of juries to purposes for which such institutions were not intended? for example, i have asserted, in the work rights of man, that as every man in the nation pays taxes, so has every man a right to a share in government, and consequently that the people of manchester, birmingham, sheffield, leeds, halifax, &c have the same right as those of london. shall, then, twelve men, picked out between temple-bar and whitechapel, because the book happened to be first published there, decide upon the rights of the inhabitants of those towns, or of any other town or village in the nation? having thus spoken of juries, i come next to offer a few observations on the matter contained in the information or prosecution. the work, rights of man, consists of part the first, and fart the second. the first part the prosecutor has thought it most proper to let alone; and from the second fart he has selected a few short paragraphs, making in the whole not quite two pages of the same printing as in the cheap edition. those paragraphs relate chiefly to certain facts, such as the revolution of , and the coming of george the first, commonly called of the house of hanover, or the house of brunswick, or some such house. the arguments, plans and principles contained in the work, the prosecutor has not ventured to attack. they are beyond his reach. the act which the prosecutor appears to rest most upon for the support of the prosecution, is the act intituled, "an act, declaring the rights and liberties of the subject, and settling the succession of the crown," passed in the first year of william and mary, and more commonly known by the name of the "bill of rights." i have called this bill "_a bill of wrongs and of insult_." my reasons, and also my proofs, are as follow: the method and principle which this bill takes for declaring rights and liberties, are in direct contradiction to rights and liberties; it is an assumed attempt to take them wholly from posterity--for the declaration in the said bill is as follows: "the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons, do, in _the name of all the people_, most humbly and faithfully _submit themselves, their heirs, and posterity for ever_;" that is, to william and mary his wife, their heirs and successors. this is a strange way of declaring rights and liberties. but the parliament who made this declaration in the name, and on the part, of the people, had no authority from them for so doing; and with respect to _posterity for ever_, they had no right or authority whatever in the case. it was assumption and usurpation. i have reasoned very extensively against the principle of this bill, in the first part of rights of man; the prosecutor has silently admitted that reasoning, and he now commences a prosecution on the authority of the bill, after admitting the reasoning against it. it is also to be observed, that the declaration in this bill, abject and irrational as it is, had no other intentional operation than against the family of the stuarts, and their abettors. the idea did not then exist, that in the space of an hundred years, posterity might discover a different and much better system of government, and that every species of hereditary government might fall, as popes and monks had fallen before. this, i say, was not then thought of, and therefore the application of the bill, in the present case, is a new, erroneous, and illegal application, and is the same as creating a new bill _ex post facto_. it has ever been the craft of courtiers, for the purpose of keeping up an expensive and enormous civil list, and a mummery of useless and antiquated places and offices at the public expence, to be continually hanging england upon some individual or other, called _king_, though the man might not have capacity to be a parish constable. the folly and absurdity of this, is appearing more and more every day; and still those men continue to act as if no alteration in the public opinion had taken place. they hear each other's nonsense, and suppose the whole nation talks the same gibberish. let such men cry up the house of orange, or the house of brunswick, if they please. they would cry up any other house if it suited their purpose, and give as good reasons for it. but what is this house, or that house, or any other house to a nation? "_for a nation to be free, it is sufficient that she wills it_." her freedom depends wholly upon herself, and not on any house, nor on any individual. i ask not in what light this cargo of foreign houses appears to others, but i will say in what light it appears to me--it was like the trees of the forest, saying unto the bramble, come thou and reign over us. thus much for both their houses. i now come to speak of two other houses, which are also put into the information, and those are the house of lords, and the house of commons. here, i suppose, the attorney-general intends to prove me guilty of speaking either truth or falsehood; for, according to the modern interpretation of libels, it does not signify which, and the only improvement necessary to shew the compleat absurdity of such doctrine, would be, to prosecute a man for uttering a most _false and wicked truth_. i will quote the part i am going to give, from the office copy, with the attorney general's inuendoes, enclosed in parentheses as they stand in the information, and i hope that civil list officer will caution the court not to laugh when he reads them, and also to take care not to laugh himself. the information states, that _thomas paine, being a wicked, malicious, seditious, and evil-disposed person, hath, with force and arms, and most wicked cunning, written and published a certain false, scandalous, malicious, and seditious libel; in one part thereof, to the tenor and effect following, that is to say_-- "with respect to the two houses, of which the english parliament (_meaning the parliament of this kingdom_) is composed, they appear to be effectually influenced into one, and, as a legislature, to have no temper of its own. the minister, (_meaning the minuter employed by the king of this realm, in the administration of the government thereof_) whoever he at any time may be, touches it (_meaning the two houses of parliament of this kingdom_) as with an opium wand, and it (_meaning the two houses of parliament of this kingdom_) sleeps obedience." as i am not malicious enough to disturb their repose, though it be time they should awake, i leave the two houses and the attorney general, to the enjoyment of their dreams, and proceed to a new subject. the gentlemen, to whom i shall next address myself, are those who have stiled themselves "_friends of the people_," holding their meeting at the freemasons' tavern, london.( ) one of the principal members of this society, is mr. grey, who, i believe, is also one of the most independent members in parliament.( ) i collect this opinion from what mr. burke formerly mentioned to me, rather than from any knowledge of my own. the occasion was as follows: i was in england at the time the bubble broke forth about nootka sound: and the day after the king's message, as it is called, was sent to parliament, i wrote a note to mr. burke, that upon the condition the french revolution should not be a subject (for he was then writing the book i have since answered) i would call on him the next day, and mention some matters i was acquainted with, respecting the affair; for it appeared to me extraordinary that any body of men, calling themselves representatives, should commit themselves so precipitately, or "sleep obedience," as parliament was then doing, and run a nation into expence, and perhaps a war, without so much as enquiring into the case, or the subject, of both which i had some knowledge. see in the introduction to this volume chauvelin's account of this association.--_editor._ in the debate in the house of commons, dec. , , mr. grey is thus reported: "mr. grey was not a friend to paine's doctrines, but he was not to be deterred by a man from acknowledging that he considered the rights of man as the foundation of every government, and those who stood out against those rights as conspirators against the people." he severely denounced the proclamation. parl. hist., vol. xxvi.--_editor._ when i saw mr. burke, and mentioned the circumstances to him, he particularly spoke of mr. grey, as the fittest member to bring such matters forward; "for," said mr. burke, "_i am not the proper_ person to do it, as i am in a treaty with mr. pitt about mr. hastings's trial." i hope the attorney general will allow, that mr. burke was then _sleeping his obedience_.--but to return to the society------ i cannot bring myself to believe, that the general motive of this society is any thing more than that by which every former parliamentary opposition has been governed, and by which the present is sufficiently known. failing in their pursuit of power and place within doors, they have now (and that in not a very mannerly manner) endeavoured to possess themselves of that ground out of doors, which, had it not been made by others, would not have been made by them. they appear to me to have watched, with more cunning than candour, the progress of a certain publication, and when they saw it had excited a spirit of enquiry, and was rapidly spreading, they stepped forward to profit by the opportunity, and mr. fox _then_ called it a libel. in saying this, he libelled himself. politicians of this cast, such, i mean, as those who trim between parties, and lye by for events, are to be found in every country, and it never yet happened that they did not do more harm than good. they embarrass business, fritter it to nothing, perplex the people, and the event to themselves generally is, that they go just far enough to make enemies of the few, without going far enough to make friends of the many. whoever will read the declarations of this society, of the th of april and th of may, will find a studied reserve upon all the points that are real abuses. they speak not once of the extravagance of government, of the abominable list of unnecessary and sinecure places and pensions, of the enormity of the civil list, of the excess of taxes, nor of any one matter that substantially affects the nation; and from some conversation that has passed in that society, it does not appear to me that it is any part of their plan to carry this class of reforms into practice. no opposition party ever did, when it gained possession. in making these free observations, i mean not to enter into contention with this society; their incivility towards me is what i should expect from place-hunting reformers. they are welcome, however, to the ground they have advanced upon, and i wish that every individual among them may act in the same upright, uninfluenced, and public spirited manner that i have done. whatever reforms may be obtained, and by whatever means, they will be for the benefit of others and not of me. i have no other interest in the cause than the interest of my heart. the part i have acted has been wholly that of a volunteer, unconnected with party; and when i quit, it shall be as honourably as i began. i consider the reform of parliament, by an application to parliament, as proposed by the society, to be a worn-out hackneyed subject, about which the nation is tired, and the parties are deceiving each other. it is not a subject that is cognizable before parliament, because no government has a right to alter itself, either in whole or in part. the right, and the exercise of that right, appertains to the nation only, and the proper means is by a national convention, elected for the purpose, by all the people. by this, the will of the nation, whether to reform or not, or what the reform shall be, or how far it shall extend, will be known, and it cannot be known by any other means. partial addresses, or separate associations, are not testimonies of the general will. it is, however, certain, that the opinions of men, with respect to systems and principles of government, are changing fast in all countries. the alteration in england, within the space of a little more than a year, is far greater than could have been believed, and it is daily and hourly increasing. it moves along the country with the silence of thought. the enormous expence of government has provoked men to think, by making them feel; and the proclamation has served to increase jealousy and disgust. to prevent, therefore, those commotions which too often and too suddenly arise from suffocated discontents, it is best that the general will should have the full and free opportunity of being publicly ascertained and known. wretched as the state of representation is in england, it is every day becoming worse, because the unrepresented parts of the nation are increasing in population and property, and the represented parts are decreasing. it is, therefore, no ill-grounded estimation to say, that as not one person in seven is represented, at least fourteen millions of taxes out of the seventeen millions, are paid by the unrepresented part; for although copyholds and leaseholds are assessed to the land-tax, the holders are unrepresented. should then a general demur take place as to the obligation of paying taxes, on the ground of not being represented, it is not the representatives of rotten boroughs, nor special juries, that can decide the question. this is one of the possible cases that ought to be foreseen, in order to prevent the inconveniencies that might arise to numerous individuals, by provoking it. i confess i have no idea of petitioning for rights. whatever the rights of people are, they have a right to them, and none have a right either to withhold them, or to grant them. government ought to be established on such principles of justice as to exclude the occasion of all such applications, for wherever they appear they are virtually accusations. i wish that mr. grey, since he has embarked in the business, would take the whole of it into consideration. he will then see that the right of reforming the state of the representation does not reside in parliament, and that the only motion he could consistently make would be, that parliament should _recommend_ the election of a convention of the people, because all pay taxes. but whether parliament recommended it or not, the right of the nation would neither be lessened nor increased thereby. as to petitions from the unrepresented part, they ought not to be looked for. as well might it be expected that manchester, sheffield, &c. should petition the rotten boroughs, as that they should petition the representatives of those boroughs. those two towns alone pay far more taxes than all the rotten boroughs put together, and it is scarcely to be expected they should pay their court either to the boroughs, or the borough-mongers. it ought also to be observed, that what is called parliament, is composed of two houses that have always declared against the right of each other to interfere in any matter that related to the circumstances of either, particularly that of election. a reform, therefore, in the representation cannot, on the ground they have individually taken, become the subject of an act of parliament, because such a mode would include the interference, against which the commons on their part have protested; but must, as well on the ground of formality, as on that of right, proceed from a national convention. let mr. grey, or any other man, sit down and endeavour to put his thoughts together, for the purpose of drawing up an application to parliament for a reform of parliament, and he will soon convince himself of the folly of the attempt. he will find that he cannot get on; that he cannot make his thoughts join, so as to produce any effect; for, whatever formality of words he may use, they will unavoidably include two ideas directly opposed to each other; the one in setting forth the reasons, the other in praying for relief, and the two, when placed together, would stand thus: "_the representation in parliament is so very corrupt, that we can no longer confide in it,--and, therefore, confiding in the justice and wisdom of parliament, we pray_," &c, &c. the heavy manner in which every former proposed application to parliament has dragged, sufficiently shews, that though the nation might not exactly see the awkwardness of the measure, it could not clearly see its way, by those means. to this also may be added another remark, which is, that the worse parliament is, the less will be the inclination to petition it. this indifference, viewed as it ought to be, is one of the strongest censures the public express. it is as if they were to say to them, "ye are not worth reforming." let any man examine the court-kalendar of placemen in both houses, and the manner in which the civil list operates, and he will be at no loss to account for this indifference and want of confidence on one side, nor of the opposition to reforms on the other. who would have supposed that mr. burke, holding forth as he formerly did against secret influence, and corrupt majorities, should become a concealed pensioner? i will now state the case, not for the little purpose of exposing mr. burke, but to shew the inconsistency of any application to a body of men, more than half of whom, as far as the nation can at present know, may be in the same case with himself. towards the end of lord north's administration, mr. burke brought a bill into parliament, generally known by mr. burke's reform bill; in which, among other things, it is enacted, "that no pension exceeding the sum of three hundred pounds a year, shall be granted to any one person, and that the whole amount of the pensions granted in one year shall not exceed six hundred pounds; a list of which, together with the _names of the persons_ to whom the same are granted, shall be laid before parliament in twenty days after the beginning of each session, until the whole pension list shall be reduced to ninety thousand pounds." a provisory clause is afterwards added, "that it shall be lawful for the first commissioner of the treasury, to return into the exchequer any pension or annuity, _without a name_, on his making oath that such pension or annuity is not directly or indirectly for the benefit, use, or behoof of any member of the house of commons." but soon after that administration ended, and the party mr. burke acted with came into power, it appears from the circumstances i am going to relate, that mr. burke became himself a pensioner in disguise; in a similar manner as if a pension had been granted in the name of john nokes, to be privately paid to and enjoyed by tom stiles. the name of edmund burke does not appear in the original transaction: but after the pension was obtained, mr. burke wanted to make the most of it at once, by selling or mortgaging it; and the gentleman in whose name the pension stands, applied to one of the public offices for that purpose. this unfortunately brought forth the name of _edmund burke_, as the real pensioner of , l. per annum.( ) when men trumpet forth what they call the blessings of the constitution, it ought to be known what sort of blessings they allude to. as to the civil list of a million a year, it is not to be supposed that any one man can eat, drink, or consume the whole upon himself. the case is, that above half the sum is annually apportioned among courtiers, and court members, of both houses, in places and offices, altogether insignificant and perfectly useless as to every purpose of civil, rational, and manly government. for instance, of what use in the science and system of government is what is called a lord chamberlain, a master and mistress of the robes, a master of the horse, a master of the hawks, and one hundred other such things? laws derive no additional force, nor additional excellence from such mummery. in the disbursements of the civil list for the year , (which may be seen in sir john sinclair's history of the revenue,) are four separate charges for this mummery office of chamberlain: [illustration: table ] from this sample the rest may be guessed at. as to the master of the hawks, (there are no hawks kept, and if there were, it is no reason the people should pay the expence of feeding them, many of whom are put to it to get bread for their children,) his salary is , l. s. see note at the end of this chapter.--_editor._ and besides a list of items of this kind, sufficient to fill a quire of paper, the pension lists alone are , l. s. d. which is a greater sum than all the expences of the federal government in america amount to. among the items, there are two i had no expectation of finding, and which, in this day of enquiry after civil list influence, ought to be exposed. the one is an annual payment of one thousand seven hundred pounds to the dissenting ministers in england, and the other, eight hundred pounds to those of ireland. this is the fact; and the distribution, as i am informed, is as follows: the whole sum of , l. is paid to one person, a dissenting minister in london, who divides it among eight others, and those eight among such others as they please. the lay-body of the dissenters, and many of their principal ministers, have long considered it as dishonourable, and have endeavoured to prevent it, but still it continues to be secretly paid; and as the world has sometimes seen very fulsome addresses from parts of that body, it may naturally be supposed that the receivers, like bishops and other court-clergy, are not idle in promoting them. how the money is distributed in ireland, i know not. to recount all the secret history of the civil list, is not the intention of this publication. it is sufficient, in this place, to expose its general character, and the mass of influence it keeps alive. it will necessarily become one of the objects of reform; and therefore enough is said to shew that, under its operation, no application to parliament can be expected to succeed, nor can consistently be made. such reforms will not be promoted by the party that is in possession of those places, nor by the opposition who are waiting for them; and as to a _mere reform_, in the state of the representation, the idea that another parliament, differently elected from the present, but still a third component part of the same system, and subject to the controul of the other two parts, will abolish those abuses, is altogether delusion; because it is not only impracticable on the ground of formality, but is unwisely exposing another set of men to the same corruptions that have tainted the present. were all the objects that require reform accomplishable by a mere reform in the state of the representation, the persons who compose the present parliament might, with rather more propriety, be asked to abolish all the abuses themselves, than be applied to as the more instruments of doing it by a future parliament. if the virtue be wanting to abolish the abuse, it is also wanting to act as the means, and the nation must, from necessity, proceed by some other plan. having thus endeavoured to shew what the abject condition of parliament is, and the impropriety of going a second time over the same ground that has before miscarried, i come to the remaining part of the subject. there ought to be, in the constitution of every country, a mode of referring back, on any extraordinary occasion, to the sovereign and original constituent power, which is the nation itself. the right of altering any part of a government, cannot, as already observed, reside in the government, or that government might make itself what it pleased. it ought also to be taken for granted, that though a nation may feel inconveniences, either in the excess of taxation, or in the mode of expenditure, or in any thing else, it may not at first be sufficiently assured in what part of its government the defect lies, or where the evil originates. it may be supposed to be in one part, and on enquiry be found to be in another; or partly in all. this obscurity is naturally interwoven with what are called mixed governments. be, however, the reform to be accomplished whatever it may, it can only follow in consequence of obtaining a full knowledge of all the causes that have rendered such reform necessary, and every thing short of this is guess-work or frivolous cunning. in this case, it cannot be supposed that any application to parliament can bring forward this knowledge. that body is itself the supposed cause, or one of the supposed causes, of the abuses in question; and cannot be expected, and ought not to be asked, to give evidence against itself. the enquiry, therefore, which is of necessity the first step in the business, cannot be trusted to parliament, but must be undertaken by a distinct body of men, separated from every suspicion of corruption or influence. instead, then, of referring to rotten boroughs and absurd corporations for addresses, or hawking them about the country to be signed by a few dependant tenants, the real and effectual mode would be to come at once to the point, and to ascertain the sense of the nation by electing a national convention. by this method, as already observed, the general will, whether to reform or not, or what the reform shall be, or how far it shall extend, will be known, and it cannot be known by any other means. such a body, empowered and supported by the nation, will have authority to demand information upon all matters necessary to be en-quired into; and no minister, nor any person, will dare to refuse it. it will then be seen whether seventeen millions of taxes are necessary, and for what purposes they are expended. the concealed pensioners will then be obliged to unmask; and the source of influence and corruption, if any such there be, will be laid open to the nation, not for the purpose of revenge, but of redress. by taking this public and national ground, all objections against partial addresses on the one side, or private associations on the other, will be done away; the nation will declare its own reforms; and the clamour about party and faction, or ins or outs, will become ridiculous. the plan and organization of a convention is easy in practice. in the first place, the number of inhabitants in every county can be sufficiently ascertained from the number of houses assessed to the house and window-light tax in each county. this will give the rule for apportioning the number of members to be elected to the national convention in each of the counties. if the total number of inhabitants in england be seven millions, and the total number of members to be elected to the convention be one thousand, the number of members to be elected in a county containing one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants will be _twenty-one_, and in like proportion for any other county. as the election of a convention must, in order to ascertain the general sense of the nation, go on grounds different from that of parliamentary elections, the mode that best promises this end will have no difficulties to combat with from absurd customs and pretended rights. the right of every man will be the same, whether he lives in a city, a town, or a village. the custom of attaching rights to _place_, or in other words, to inanimate matter, instead of to the _person_, independently of place, is too absurd to make any part of a rational argument. as every man in the nation, of the age of twenty-one years, pays taxes, either out of the property he possesses, or out of the product of his labor, which is property to him; and is amenable in his own person to every law of the land; so has every one the same equal right to vote, and no one part of the nation, nor any individual, has a right to dispute the right of another. the man who should do this ought to forfeit the exercise of his _own_ right, for a term of years. this would render the punishment consistent with the crime. when a qualification to vote is regulated by years, it is placed on the firmest possible ground; because the qualification is such, as nothing but dying before the time can take away; and the equality of rights, as a principle, is recognized in the act of regulating the exercise. but when rights are placed upon, or made dependant upon property, they are on the most precarious of all tenures. "riches make themselves wings, and fly away," and the rights fly with them; and thus they become lost to the man when they would be of most value. it is from a strange mixture of tyranny and cowardice, that exclusions have been set up and continued. the boldness to do wrong at first, changes afterwards into cowardly craft, and at last into fear. the representatives in england appear now to act as if they were afraid to do right, even in part, lest it should awaken the nation to a sense of all the wrongs it has endured. this case serves to shew, that the same conduct that best constitutes the safety of an individual, namely, a strict adherence to principle, constitutes also the safety of a government, and that without it safety is but an empty name. when the rich plunder the poor of his rights, it becomes an example to the poor to plunder the rich of his property; for the rights of the one are as much property to him, as wealth is property to the other, and the _little all_ is as dear as the _much_. it is only by setting out on just principles that men are trained to be just to each other; and it will always be found, that when the rich protect the rights of the poor, the poor will protect the property of the rich. but the guarantee, to be effectual, must be parliamentarily reciprocal. exclusions are not only unjust, but they frequently operate as injuriously to the party who monopolizes, as to those who are excluded. when men seek to exclude others from participating in the exercise of any right, they should, at least, be assured, that they can effectually perform the whole of the business they undertake; for, unless they do this, themselves will be losers by the monopoly. this has been the case with respect to the monopolized right of election. the monopolizing party has not been able to keep the parliamentary representation, to whom the power of taxation was entrusted, in the state it ought to have been, and have thereby multiplied taxes upon themselves equally with those who were excluded. a great deal has been, and will continue to be said, about disqualifications, arising from the commission of offences; but were this subject urged to its full extent, it would disqualify a great number of the present electors, together with their representatives; for, of all offences, none are more destructive to the morals of society than bribery and corruption. it is, therefore, civility to such persons to pass this subject over, and to give them a fair opportunity of recovering, or rather of creating character. every thing, in the present mode of electioneering in england, is the reverse of what it ought to be, and the vulgarity that attends elections is no other than the natural consequence of inverting the order of the system. in the first place, the candidate seeks the elector, instead of the elector seeking for a representative; and the electors are advertised as being in the interest of the candidate, instead of the candidate being in the interest of the electors. the candidate pays the elector for his vote, instead of the nation paying the representative for his time and attendance on public business. the complaint for an undue election is brought by the candidate, as if he, and not the electors, were the party aggrieved; and he takes on himself, at any period of the election, to break it up, by declining, as if the election was in his right and not in theirs. the compact that was entered into at the last westminster election between two of the candidates (mr. fox and lord hood,) was an indecent violation of the principles of election. the candidates assumed, in their own persons, the rights of the electors; for, it was only in the body of the electors, and not at all in the candidates, that the right of making any such compact, or compromise, could exist. but the principle of election and representation is so completely done away, in every stage thereof, that inconsistency has no longer the power of surprising. neither from elections thus conducted, nor from rotten borough addressers, nor from county-meetings, promoted by placemen and pensioners, can the sense of the nation be known. it is still corruption appealing to itself. but a convention of a thousand persons, fairly elected, would bring every matter to a decided issue. as to county-meetings, it is only persons of leisure, or those who live near to the place of meeting, that can attend, and the number on such occasions is but like a drop in the bucket compared with the whole. the only consistent service which such meetings could render, would be that of apportioning the county into convenient districts, and when this is done, each district might, according to its number of inhabitants, elect its quota of county members to the national convention; and the vote of each elector might be taken in the parish where he resided, either by ballot or by voice, as he should chuse to give it. a national convention thus formed, would bring together the sense and opinions of every part of the nation, fairly taken. the science of government, and the interest of the public, and of the several parts thereof, would then undergo an ample and rational discussion, freed from the language of parliamentary disguise. but in all deliberations of this kind, though men have a right to reason with, and endeavour to convince each other, upon any matter that respects their common good, yet, in point of practice, the majority of opinions, when known, forms a rule for the whole, and to this rule every good citizen practically conforms. mr. burke, as if he knew, (for every concealed pensioner has the opportunity of knowing,) that the abuses acted under the present system, are too flagrant to be palliated, and that the majority of opinions, whenever such abuses should be made public, would be for a general and effectual reform, has endeavoured to preclude the event, by sturdily denying the right of a majority of a nation to act as a whole. let us bestow a thought upon this case. when any matter is proposed as a subject for consultation, it necessarily implies some mode of decision. common consent, arising from absolute necessity, has placed this in a majority of opinions; because, without it, there can be no decision, and consequently no order. it is, perhaps, the only case in which mankind, however various in their ideas upon other matters, can consistently be unanimous; because it is a mode of decision derived from the primary original right of every individual concerned; _that_ right being first individually exercised in giving an opinion, and whether that opinion shall arrange with the minority or the majority, is a subsequent accidental thing that neither increases nor diminishes the individual original right itself. prior to any debate, enquiry, or investigation, it is not supposed to be known on which side the majority of opinions will fall, and therefore, whilst this mode of decision secures to every one the right of giving an opinion, it admits to every one an equal chance in the ultimate event. among the matters that will present themselves to the consideration of a national convention, there is one, wholly of a domestic nature, but so marvellously loaded with con-fusion, as to appear at first sight, almost impossible to be reformed. i mean the condition of what is called law. but, if we examine into the cause from whence this confusion, now so much the subject of universal complaint, is produced, not only the remedy will immediately present itself, but, with it, the means of preventing the like case hereafter. in the first place, the confusion has generated itself from the absurdity of every parliament assuming to be eternal in power, and the laws partake in a similar manner, of this assumption. they have no period of legal or natural expiration; and, however absurd in principle, or inconsistent in practice many of them have become, they still are, if not especially repealed, considered as making a part of the general mass. by this means the body of what is called law, is spread over a space of _several hundred years_, comprehending laws obsolete, laws repugnant, laws ridiculous, and every other kind of laws forgotten or remembered; and what renders the case still worse, is, that the confusion multiplies with the progress of time. (*) to bring this misshapen monster into form, and to prevent its lapsing again into a wilderness state, only two things, and those very simple, are necessary. the first is, to review the whole mass of laws, and to bring forward such only as are worth retaining, and let all the rest drop; and to give to the laws so brought forward a new era, commencing from the time of such reform. * in the time of henry iv. a law was passed making it felony "to multiply gold or silver, or to make use of the craft of multiplication," and this law remained two hundred and eighty-six years upon the statute books. it was then repealed as being ridiculous and injurious.--_author_. secondly; that at the expiration of every twenty-one years (or any other stated period) a like review shall again be taken, and the laws, found proper to be retained, be again carried forward, commencing with that date, and the useless laws dropped and discontinued. by this means there can be no obsolete laws, and scarcely such a thing as laws standing in direct or equivocal contradiction to each other, and every person will know the period of time to which he is to look back for all the laws in being. it is worth remarking, that while every other branch of science is brought within some commodious system, and the study of it simplified by easy methods, the laws take the contrary course, and become every year more complicated, entangled, confused, and obscure. among the paragraphs which the attorney general has taken from the _rights of man_, and put into his information, one is, that where i have said, "that with respect to regular law, there is _scarcely such a thing_." as i do not know whether the attorney-general means to show this expression to be libellous, because it is true, or because it is false, i shall make no other reply to him in this place, than by remarking, that if almanack-makers had not been more judicious than law-makers, the study of almanacks would by this time have become as abstruse as the study of the law, and we should hear of a library of almanacks as we now do of statutes; but by the simple operation of letting the obsolete matter drop, and carrying forward that only which is proper to be retained, all that is necessary to be known is found within the space of a year, and laws also admit of being kept within some given period. i shall here close this letter, so far as it respects the addresses, the proclamation, and the prosecution; and shall offer a few observations to the society, styling itself "the friends of the people." that the science of government is beginning to be better understood than in former times, and that the age of fiction and political superstition, and of craft and mystery, is passing away, are matters which the experience of every day-proves to be true, as well in england as in other countries. as therefore it is impossible to calculate the silent progress of opinion, and also impossible to govern a nation after it has changed its habits of thinking, by the craft or policy that it was governed by before, the only true method to prevent popular discontents and commotions is, to throw, by every fair and rational argument, all the light upon the subject that can possibly be thrown; and at the same time, to open the means of collecting the general sense of the nation; and this cannot, as already observed, be done by any plan so effectually as a national convention. here individual opinion will quiet itself by having a centre to rest upon. the society already mentioned, (which is made up of men of various descriptions, but chiefly of those called foxites,) appears to me, either to have taken wrong grounds from want of judgment, or to have acted with cunning reserve. it is now amusing the people with a new phrase, namely, that of "a temperate and moderate reform," the interpretation of which is, _a continuance of the abuses as long as possible, if we cannot hold all let us hold some_. who are those that are frightened at reforms? are the public afraid that their taxes should be lessened too much? are they afraid that sinecure places and pensions should be abolished too fast? are the poor afraid that their condition should be rendered too comfortable? is the worn-out mechanic, or the aged and decayed tradesman, frightened at the prospect of receiving ten pounds a year out of the surplus taxes? is the soldier frightened at the thoughts of his discharge, and three shillings per week during life? is the sailor afraid that press-warrants will be abolished? the society mistakes the fears of borough-mongers, placemen, and pensioners, for the fears of the people; and the _temperate and moderate reform_ it talks of, is calculated to suit the condition of the former. those words, "temperate and moderate," are words either of political cowardice, or of cunning, or seduction.--a thing, moderately good, is not so good as it ought to be. moderation in temper, is always a virtue; but moderation in principle, is a species of vice. but who is to be the judge of what is a temperate and moderate reform? the society is the representative of nobody; neither can the unrepresented part of the nation commit this power to those in parliament, in whose election they had no choice; and, therefore, even upon the ground the society has taken, recourse must be had to a national convention. the objection which mr. fox made to mr. grey's proposed motion for a parliamentary reform was, that it contained no plan.--it certainly did not. but the plan very easily presents itself; and whilst it is fair for all parties, it prevents the dangers that might otherwise arise from private or popular discontent. thomas paine. editorial note on burke's alleged secret pension.--by reference to vol. ii., pp. , , of this work, it will be seen that paine mentions a report that burke was a "pensioner in a fictitious name." a letter of john hall to a relative in leicester, (london, may , .) says: "you will remember that there was a vote carried, about the conclusion of the american war, that the influence of the crown had increased, was increasing, and should be diminished. burke, poor, and like a good angler, baited a hook with a bill to bring into parliament, that no pensions should be given above £ a year, but what should be publicly granted, and for what, (i may not be quite particular.) to stop that he took in another person's name £ a year for life, and some time past he disposed of it, or sold his life out. he has been very still since his declension from the whigs, and is not concerned in the slave-trade [question?] as i hear of." this letter, now in possession of hall's kinsman, dr. dutton steele of philadelphia, contains an item not in paine's account, which may have been derived from it. hall was an english scientific engineer, and acquainted with intelligent men in london. paine was rather eager for a judicial encounter with burke, and probably expected to be sued by him for libel, as he (burke) had once sued the "public advertiser" for a personal accusation. but burke remained quiet under this charge, and paine, outlawed, and in france, had no opportunity for summoning witnesses in its support. the biographers of burke have silently passed over the accusation, and this might be fair enough were this unconfirmed charge made against a public man of stainless reputation in such matters. but though burke escaped parliamentary censure for official corruption (may , , by only majority) he has never been vindicated. it was admitted that he had restored to office a cashier and an accountant dismissed for dishonesty by his predecessor. ("pari. hist.," xxiii., pp. , .) he escaped censure by agreeing to suspend them. one was proved guilty, the other committed suicide. it was subsequently shown that one of the men had been an agent of the burkes in raising india stock. (dilke's "papers of a critic," ii-, p. --"dict. nat biography": art burke.) paine, in his letter to the attorney-general (iv. of this volume), charged that burke had been a "masked pensioner" ten years. the date corresponds with a secret arrangement made in with burke for a virtual pension to his son, for life, and his mother. under date april of that year, burke, writing to william burke at madras, reports his appointment as paymaster: "the office is to be l. certain. young richard [his son] is the deputy with a salary of l. the office to be reformed according to the bill. there is enough emoluments. in decency it could not be more. something considerable is also to be secured for the life of young richard to be a security for him and his mother."("mem. and cor. of charles james fox," i., p. .) it is thus certain that the rockingham ministry were doing for the paymaster all they could "in decency," and that while posing as a reformer in reducing the expenses of that office, he was arranging for secret advantages to his family. it is said that the arrangement failed by his loss of office, but while so many of burke's papers are withheld from the public (if not destroyed), it cannot be certain that something was not done of the kind charged by paine. that burke was not strict in such matters is further shown by his efforts to secure for his son the rich sinecure of the clerkship of the polls, in which he failed. burke was again paymaster in - , and this time remained long enough in office to repeat more successfully his secret attempts to secure irregular pensions for his family. on april , , messrs. sotheby, wilkinson, and hodge sold in london (lot ) a letter of burke (which i have not seen in print), dated july , . it was written to the chairman of the commission on public accounts, who had required him to render his accounts for the time he was in office as paymaster-general, - . burke refuses to do so in four angry and quibbling pages, and declares he will appeal to his country against the demand if it is pressed. why should burke wish to conceal his accounts? there certainly were suspicions around burke, and they may have caused pitt to renounce his intention, conveyed to burke, august , , of asking parliament to bestow on him a pension. "it is not exactly known," says one of burke's editors, "what induced mr. pitt to decline bringing before parliament a measure which he had himself proposed without any solicitation whatever on the part of burke." (burke's "works," english ed., , ii., p. .) the pensions were given without consultation with parliament-- l. granted him by the king from the civil list, and l. by pitt in west indian / per cents. burke, on taking his seat beside pitt in the great paine parliament (december, ), had protested that he had not abandoned his party through expectation of a pension, but the general belief of those with whom he had formerly acted was that he had been promised a pension. a couplet of the time ran: "a pension makes him change his plan, and loudly damn the rights of man." writing in , cobbett says: "as my lord grenville introduced the name of burke, suffer me, my lord, to introduce the name of the man [paine] who put this burke to shame, who drove him off the public stage to seek shelter in the pension list, and who is now named fifty million times where the name of the pensioned burke is mentioned once."-- _editor._ x. address to the people of france. paris, sept. , [ .] first year of the republic. fellow citizens, i receive, with affectionate gratitude, the honour which the late national assembly has conferred upon me, by adopting me a citizen of france: and the additional honor of being elected by my fellow citizens a member of the national convention.( ) happily impressed, as i am, by those testimonies of respect shown towards me as an individual, i feel my felicity increased by seeing the barrier broken down that divided patriotism by spots of earth, and limited citizenship to the soil, like vegetation. had those honours been conferred in an hour of national tranquillity, they would have afforded no other means of shewing my affection, than to have accepted and enjoyed them; but they come accompanied with circumstances that give me the honourable opportunity of commencing my citizenship in the stormy hour of difficulties. i come not to enjoy repose. convinced that the cause of france is the cause of all mankind, and that liberty cannot be purchased by a wish, i gladly share with you the dangers and honours necessary to success. the national assembly (august , ) conferred the title of "french citizen" on "priestley, payne, bentham, wilberforce, clarkson, mackintosh, campe, cormelle, paw, david williams, gorani, anacharsis clootz, pestalozzi, washington, hamilton, madison, klopstoc, kosciusko, gilleers."--_editor._. vol ni-- i am well aware that the moment of any great change, such as that accomplished on the th of august, is unavoidably the moment of terror and confusion. the mind, highly agitated by hope, suspicion and apprehension, continues without rest till the change be accomplished. but let us now look calmly and confidently forward, and success is certain. it is no longer the paltry cause of kings, or of this, or of that individual, that calls france and her armies into action. it is the great cause of all. it is the establishment of a new aera, that shall blot despotism from the earth, and fix, on the lasting principles of peace and citizenship, the great republic of man. it has been my fate to have borne a share in the commencement and complete establishment of one revolution, (i mean the revolution of america.) the success and events of that revolution are encouraging to us. the prosperity and happiness that have since flowed to that country, have amply rewarded her for all the hardships she endured and for all the dangers she encountered. the principles on which that revolution began, have extended themselves to europe; and an over-ruling providence is regenerating the old world by the principles of the new. the distance of america from all the other parts of the globe, did not admit of her carrying those principles beyond her own situation. it is to the peculiar honour of france, that she now raises the standard of liberty for all nations; and in fighting her own battles, contends for the rights of all mankind. the same spirit of fortitude that insured success to america; will insure it to france, for it is impossible to conquer a nation determined to be free! the military circumstances that now unite themselves to france, are such as the despots of the earth know nothing of, and can form no calculation upon. they know not what it is to fight against a nation; they have only been accustomed to make war upon each other, and they know, from system and practice, how to calculate the probable success of despot against despot; and here their knowledge and their experience end. but in a contest like the present a new and boundless variety of circumstances arise, that deranges all such customary calculations. when a whole nation acts as an army, the despot knows not the extent of the power against which he contends. new armies arise against him with the necessity of the moment. it is then that the difficulties of an invading enemy multiply, as in the former case they diminished; and he finds them at their height when he expected them to end. the only war that has any similarity of circumstances with the present, is the late revolution war in america. on her part, as it now is in france, it was a war of the whole nation:--there it was that the enemy, by beginning to conquer, put himself in a condition of being conquered. his first victories prepared him for defeat. he advanced till he could not retreat, and found himself in the midst of a nation of armies. were it now to be proposed to the austrians and prussians, to escort them into the middle of france, and there leave them to make the most of such a situation, they would see too much into the dangers of it to accept the offer, and the same dangers would attend them, could they arrive there by any other means. where, then, is the military policy of their attempting to obtain, by force, that which they would refuse by choice? but to reason with despots is throwing reason away. the best of arguments is a vigorous preparation. man is ever a stranger to the ways by which providence regulates the order of things. the interference of foreign despots may serve to introduce into their own enslaved countries the principles they come to oppose. liberty and equality are blessings too great to be the inheritance of france alone. it is an honour to her to be their first champion; and she may now say to her enemies, with a mighty voice, "o! ye austrians, ye prussians! ye who now turn your bayonets against us, it is for you, it is for all europe, it is for all mankind, and not for france alone, that she raises the standard of liberty and equality!" the public cause has hitherto suffered from the contradictions contained in the constitution of the constituent assembly. those contradictions have served to divide the opinions of individuals at home, and to obscure the great principles of the revolution in other countries. but when those contradictions shall be removed, and the constitution be made conformable to the declaration of rights; when the bagatelles of monarchy, royalty, regency, and hereditary succession, shall be exposed, with all their absurdities, a new ray of light will be thrown over the world, and the revolution will derive new strength by being universally understood. the scene that now opens itself to france extends far beyond the boundaries of her own dominions. every nation is becoming her colleague, and every court is become her enemy. it is now the cause of all nations, against the cause of all courts. the terror that despotism felt, clandestinely begot a confederation of despots; and their attack upon france was produced by their fears at home. in entering on this great scene, greater than any nation has yet been called to act in, let us say to the agitated mind, be calm. let us punish by instructing, rather than by revenge. let us begin the new ara by a greatness of friendship, and hail the approach of union and success. your fellow-citizen, thomas paine. xi. anti-monarchal essay. for the use of new republicans.( ) when we reach some great good, long desired, we begin by felicitating ourselves. we triumph, we give ourselves up to this joy without rendering to our minds any full account of our reasons for it. then comes reflexion: we pass in review all the circumstances of our new happiness; we compare it in detail with our former condition; and each of these thoughts becomes a fresh enjoyment. this satisfaction, elucidated and well-considered, we now desire to procure for our readers. in seeing royalty abolished and the republic established, all france has resounded with unanimous plaudits.( ) yet, citizen president: in the name of the deputies of the department of the pas de calais, i have the honor of presenting to the convention the felicitations of the general council of the commune of calais on the abolition of royalty. translated for this work from le patriote françois, "samedi octobre, , l'an ier de la république. supplement au no. ," in the bibliothèque nationale, paris. it is headed, "essai anti-monarchique, à l'usage des nouveaux républicains, tiré de la feuille villageoise." i have not found this feuille, but no doubt brissot, in editing the essay for his journal (le patriote françois) abridged it, and in one instance paine is mentioned by name. although in this essay paine occasionally repeats sentences used elsewhere, and naturally maintains his well-known principles, the work has a peculiar interest as indicating the temper and visions of the opening revolution.--_editor._ royalty was abolished by the national convention on the first day of its meeting, september , , the revolutionary calendar beginning next day. paine was chosen by his fellow-deputies of calais to congratulate the convention, and did so in a brief address, dated october , which was loaned by m. charavay to the historical exposition of the revolution at paris, , where i made the subjoined translation: "folly of oar ancestor», who have placed us under the necessity of treating gravely (solennellement) the abolition of a phantom (fantôme).--thomas paine, deputy."-- _editor._ amid the joy inspired by this event, one cannot forbear some pain at the some who clap their hands do not sufficiently understand the condition they are leaving or that which they are assuming. the perjuries of louis, the conspiracies of his court, the wildness of his worthy brothers, have filled every frenchman with horror, and this race was dethroned in their hearts before its fall by legal decree. but it is little to throw down an idol; it is the pedestal that above all must be broken down; it is the regal office rather than the incumbent that is murderous. all do not realize this. why is royalty an absurd and detestable government? why is the republic a government accordant with nature and reason? at the present time a frenchman should put himself in a position to answer these two questions clearly. for, in fine, if you are free and contented it is yet needful that you should know why. let us first discuss royalty or monarchy. although one often wishes to distinguish between these names, common usage gives them the same sense. royalty. bands of brigands unite to subvert a country, place it under tribute, seize its lands, enslave its inhabitants. the expedition completed, the chieftain of the robbers adopts the title of monarch or king. such is the origin of royalty among all tribes--huntsmen, agriculturists, shepherds. a second brigand arrives who finds it equitable to take away by force what was conquered by violence: he dispossesses the first; he chains him, kills him, reigns in his place. ere long time effaces the memory of this origin; the successors rule under a new form; they do a little good, from policy; they corrupt all who surround them; they invent fictitious genealogies to make their families sacred ( ); the knavery of priests comes to their aid; they take religion for a life-guard: thenceforth tyranny becomes immortal, the usurped power becomes an hereditary right. the boston investigator's compilation of paine's works contains the following as supposed to be mr. paine's: "royal pedigree.--george the third, who was the grandson of george the second, who was the son of george the first, who was the son of the princess sophia, who was the cousin of anne, who was the sister of william and mary, who were the daughter and son-in-law of james the second, who was the son of charles the first, who was a traitor to his country and decapitated as such, who was the son of james the first, who was the son of mary, who was the sister of edward the sixth, who was the son of henry the eighth, who was the coldblooded murderer of his wives, and the promoter of the protestant religion, who was the son of henry the seventh, who slew richard the third, who smothered his nephew edward the fifth, who was the son of edward the fourth, who with bloody richard slew henry the sixth, who succeeded henry the fifth, who was the son of henry the fourth, who was the cousin of richard the second, who was the son of edward the third, who was the son of richard the second, who was the son of edward the first, who was the son of henry the third, who was the son of john, who was the brother of richard the first, who was the son of henry the second, who was the son of matilda, who was the daughter of henry the first, who was the brother of william rufus, who was the son of william the conqueror, who was the son of a whore."--_editor._ the effects of royalty have been entirely harmonious with its origin. what scenes of horror, what refinements of iniquity, do the annals of monarchies present! if we should paint human nature with a baseness of heart, an hypocrisy, from which all must recoil and humanity disavow, it would be the portraiture of kings, their ministers and courtiers. and why should it not be so? what should such a monstrosity produce but miseries and crimes? what is monarchy? it has been finely disguised, and the people familiarized with the odious title: in its real sense the word signifies _the absolute power of one single individual_, who may with impunity be stupid, treacherous, tyrannical, etc. is it not an insult to nations to wish them so governed? government by a single individual is vicious in itself, independently of the individual's vices. for however little a state, the prince is nearly always too small: where is the proportion between one man and the affairs of a whole nation? true, some men of genius have been seen under the diadem; but the evil is then even greater: the ambition of such a man impels him to conquest and despotism, his subjects soon have to lament his glory, and sing their _te-deums_ while perishing with hunger. such is the history of louis xiv. and so many others. but if ordinary men in power repay you with incapacity or with princely vices? but those who come to the front in monarchies are frequently mere mean mischief-makers, commonplace knaves, petty intriguers, whose small wits, which in courts reach large places, serve only to display their ineptitude in public, as soon as they appear. (*) in short, monarchs do nothing, and their ministers do evil: this is the history of all monarchies. but if royalty as such is baneful, as hereditary succession it is equally revolting and ridiculous. what! there exists among my kind a man who pretends that he is born to govern me? whence derived he such right? from his and my ancestors, says he. but how could they transmit to him a right they did not possess? man has no authority over generations unborn. i cannot be the slave of the dead, more than of the living. suppose that instead of our posterity, it was we who should succeed ourselves: we should not to-day be able to despoil ourselves of the rights which would belong to us in our second life: for a stronger reason we cannot so despoil others. an hereditary crown! a transmissible throne! what a notion! with even a little reflexion, can any one tolerate it? should human beings then be the property of certain individuals, born or to be born? are we then to treat our descendants in advance as cattle, who shall have neither will nor rights of their own? to inherit government is to inherit peoples, as if they were herds. it is the basest, the most shameful fantasy that ever degraded mankind. it is wrong to reproach kings with their ferocity, their brutal indifference, the oppressions of the people, and molestations of citizens: it is hereditary succession that makes them what they are: this breeds monsters as a marsh breeds vipers. * j. j. rousseau, contrat social.--author. the logic on which the hereditary prince rests is in effect this: i derive my power from my birth; i derive my birth from god; therefore i owe nothing to men. it is little that he has at hand a complacent minister, he continues to indulge, conscientiously, in all the crimes of tyranny. this has been seen in all times and countries. tell me, then, what is there in common between him who is master of a people, and the people of whom he is master? are these masters really of their kind? it is by sympathy that we are good and human: with whom does a monarch sympathize? when my neighbor suffers i pity, because i put myself in his place: a monarch pities none, because he has never been, can never be, in any other place than his own. a monarch is an egoist by nature, the _egoist par excellence_. a thousand traits show that this kind of men have no point of contact with the rest of humanity. there was demanded of charles ii. the punishment of lauderdale, his favorite, who had infamously oppressed the scotch. "yes," said charles coolly, "this man has done much against the scotch, but i cannot see that he has done anything against my interests." louis xiv. often said: "if i follow the wishes of the people, i cannot act the king." even such phrases as "misfortunes of the state," "safety of the state," filled louis xiv. with wrath. could nature make a law which should assure virtue and wisdom invariably in these privileged castes that perpetuate themselves on thrones, there would be no objection to their hereditary succession. but let us pass europe in review: all of its monarchs are the meanest of men. this one a tyrant, that one an imbecile, another a traitor, the next a debauchee, while some muster all the vices. it looks as if fate and nature had aimed to show our epoch, and all nations, the absurdity and enormity of royalty. but i mistake: this epoch has nothing peculiar. for, such is the essential vice of this royal succession by animal filiation, the peoples have not even the chances of nature,--they cannot even hope for a good prince as an alternative. all things conspire to deprive of reason and justice an individual reared to command others. the word of young dionysius was very sensible: his father, reproaching him for a shameful action, said, "have i given thee such example?" "ah," answered the youth, "thy father was not a king!" in truth, were laughter on such a subject permissible, nothing would suggest ideas more burlesque than this fantastic institution of hereditary kings. would it not be believed, to look at them, that there really exist particular lineages possessing certain qualities which enter the blood of the embryo prince, and adapt him physically for royalty, as a horse for the racecourse? but then, in this wild supposition, it yet becomes necessary to assure the genuine family descent of the heir presumptive. to perpetuate the noble race of andalusian chargers, the circumstances pass before witnesses, and similar precautions seem necessary, however indecent, to make sure that the trickeries of queens shall not supply thrones with bastards, and that the kings, like the horses, shall always be thoroughbreds. whether one jests or reasons, there is found in this idea of hereditary royalty only folly and shame. what then is this office, which may be filled by infants or idiots? some talent is required to be a simple workman; to be a king there is need to have only the human shape, to be a living automaton. we are astonished when reading that the egyptians placed on the throne a flint, and called it their king. we smile at the dog barkouf, sent by an asiatic despot to govern one of his provinces.(*) but mon-archs of this kind are less mischievous and less absurd than those before whom whole peoples prostrate themselves. the flint and the dog at least imposed on nobody. none ascribed to them qualities or characters they did not possess. they were not styled 'father of the people,'--though this were hardly more ridiculous than to give that title to a rattle-head whom inheritance crowns at eighteen. better a mute than an animate idol. why, there can hardly be cited an instance of a great man having children worthy of him, yet you will have the royal function pass from father to son! as well declare that a wise man's son will be wise. a king is an administrator, and an hereditary administrator is as absurd as an author by birthright. * see the first year of la feuille villageoise, no. .-- author. [cf. montaigne's essays, chap. xii.--_editor._] royalty is thus as contrary to common sense as to com-mon right. but it would be a plague even if no more than an absurdity; for a people who can bow down in honor of a silly thing is a debased people. can they be fit for great affairs who render equal homage to vice and virtue, and yield the same submission to ignorance and wisdom? of all institutions, none has caused more intellectual degeneracy. this explains the often-remarked abjectness of character under monarchies. such is also the effect of this contagious institution that it renders equality impossible, and draws in its train the presumption and the evils of "nobility." if you admit inheritance of an office, why not that of a distinction? the nobility's heritage asks only homage, that of the crown commands submission. when a man says to me, 'i am born illustrious,' i merely smile; when he says 'i am born your master,' i set my foot on him. when the convention pronounced the abolition of royalty none rose for the defence that was expected. on this subject a philosopher, who thought discussion should always precede enactment, proposed a singular thing; he desired that the convention should nominate an orator commissioned to plead before it the cause of royalty, so that the pitiful arguments by which it has in all ages been justified might appear in broad daylight. judges give one accused, however certain his guilt, an official defender. in the ancient senate of venice there existed a public officer whose function was to contest all propositions, however incontestible, or however perfect their evidence. for the rest, pleaders for royalty are not rare: let us open them, and see what the most specious of royalist reasoners have said. . _a king is necessary to preserve a people from the tyranny of powerful men_. establish the rights of man( ); enthrone equality; form a good constitution; divide well its powers; let there be no privileges, no distinctions of birth, no monopolies; make safe the liberty of industry and of trade, the equal distribution of [family] inheritances, publicity of administration, freedom of the press: these things all established, you will be assured of good laws, and need not fear the powerful men. willingly or unwillingly, all citizens will be under the law. the reader should bear in mind that this phrase, now used vaguely, had for paine and his political school a special significance; it implied a fundamental declaration of individual rights, of supreme force and authority, invasion which, either by legislatures, law courts, majorities, or administrators, was to be regarded as the worst treason and despotism.--_editor._ . _the legislature might usurp authority, and a king is needed to restrain it_. with representatives, frequently renewed, who neither administer nor judge, whose functions are determined by the laws; with national conventions, with primary assemblies, which can be convoked any moment; with a people knowing how to read, and how to defend itself; with good journals, guns, and pikes; a legislature would have a good deal of trouble in enjoying any months of tyranny. let us not suppose an evil for the sake of its remedy. . _a king is needed to give force to executive power_. this might be said while there existed nobles, a priesthood, parliaments, the privileged of every kind. but at present who can resist the law, which is the will of all, whose execution is the interest of all? on the contrary the existence of an hereditary prince inspires perpetual distrust among the friends of liberty; his authority is odious to them; in checking despotism they constantly obstruct the action of government. observe how feeble the executive power was found, after our recent pretence of marrying royalty with liberty. take note, for the rest, that those who talk in this way are men who believe that the king and the executive power are only one and the same thing: readers of _la feuille villageoise_ are more advanced.(*) * see no. .--_author_ others use this bad reasoning: "were there no hereditary chief there would be an elective chief: the citizens would side with this man or that, and there would be a civil war at every election." in the first place, it is certain that hereditary succession alone has produced the civil wars of france and england; and that beyond this are the pre-tended rights, of royal families which have twenty times drawn on these nations the scourge of foreign wars. it is, in fine, the heredity of crowns that has caused the troubles of regency, which thomas paine calls monarchy at nurse. but above all it must be said, that if there be an elective chief, that chief will not be a king surrounded by courtiers, burdened with pomp, inflated by idolatries, and endowed with thirty millions of money; also, that no citizen will be tempted to injure himself by placing another citizen, his equal, for some years in an office without limited income and circumscribed power. in a word, whoever demands a king demands an aristocracy, and thirty millions of taxes. see why franklin described royalism as _a crime like poisoning_. royalty, its fanatical eclat, its superstitious idolatry, the delusive assumption of its necessity, all these fictions have been invented only to obtain from men excessive taxes and voluntary servitude. royalty and popery have had the same aim, have sustained themselves by the same artifices, and crumble under the same light. xii. to the attorney general, on the prosecution against the second part of rights of man.( ) paris, th of november, st year of the republic. [ .] mr. attorney general: sir,--as there can be no personal resentment between two strangers, i write this letter to you, as to a man against whom i have no animosity. you have, as attorney general, commenced a prosecution against me, as the author of rights of man. had not my duty, in consequence of my being elected a member of the national convention of france, called me from england, i should have staid to have contested the injustice of that prosecution; not upon my own account, for i cared not about the prosecution, but to have defended the principles i had advanced in the work. read to the jury by the attorney general, sir archibald macdonald, at the trial of paine, december , , which resulted in his outlawry.--_editor._ the duty i am now engaged in is of too much importance to permit me to trouble myself about your prosecution: when i have leisure, i shall have no objection to meet you on that ground; but, as i now stand, whether you go on with the prosecution, or whether you do not, or whether you obtain a verdict, or not, is a matter of the most perfect indifference to me as an individual. if you obtain one, (which you are welcome to if you can get it,) it cannot affect me either in person, property, or reputation, otherwise than to increase the latter; and with respect to yourself, it is as consistent that you obtain a verdict against the man in the moon as against me; neither do i see how you can continue the prosecution against me as you would have done against one _your own people, who_ had absented himself because he was prosecuted; what passed at dover proves that my departure from england was no secret. ( ) my necessary absence from your country affords the opportunity of knowing whether the prosecution was intended against thomas paine, or against the right of the people of england to investigate systems and principles of government; for as i cannot now be the object of the prosecution, the going on with the prosecution will shew that something else was the object, and that something else can be no other than the people of england, for it is against _their rights_, and not against me, that a verdict or sentence can operate, if it can operate at all. be then so candid as to tell the jury, (if you choose to continue the process,) whom it is you are prosecuting, and on whom it is that the verdict is to fall.( ) but i have other reasons than those i have mentioned for writing you this letter; and, however you may choose to interpret them, they proceed from a good heart. the time, sir, is becoming too serious to play with court prosecutions, and sport with national rights. the terrible examples that have taken place here, upon men who, less than a year ago, thought themselves as secure as any prosecuting judge, jury, or attorney general, now can in england, ought to have some weight with men in your situation. that the government of england is as great, if not the greatest, perfection of fraud and corruption that ever took place since governments began, is what you cannot be a stranger to, unless the constant habit of seeing it has blinded your senses; but though you may not chuse to see it, the people are seeing it very fast, and the progress is beyond what you may chuse to believe. is it possible that you, or i, can believe, or that reason can make any other man believe, that the capacity of such a man as mr. guelph, or any of his profligate sons, is necessary to the government of a nation? i speak to you as one man ought to speak to another; and i know also that i speak what other people are beginning to think. see chapter viii. of this volume.--_editor._ in reading the letter in court the attorney general said at this point: "gentlemen, i certainly will comply with this request. i am prosecuting both him and his work; and if i succeed in this prosecution, he shall never return to this country otherwise than _in vintulis_, for i will outlaw him."--_editor._ that you cannot obtain a verdict (and if you do, it will signify nothing) _without packing a jury_, (and we _both_ know that such tricks are practised,) is what i have very good reason to believe, i have gone into coffee-houses, and places where i was unknown, on purpose to learn the currency of opinion, and i never yet saw any company of twelve men that condemned the book; but i have often found a greater number than twelve approving it, and this i think is _a fair way of collecting the natural currency of opinion_. do not then, sir, be the instrument of drawing twelve men into a situation that may be _injurious_ to them afterwards. i do not speak this from policy, but from benevolence; but if you chuse to go on with the process, i make it my request to you that you will read this letter in court, after which the judge and the jury may do as they please. as i do not consider myself the object of the prosecution, neither can i be affected by the issue, one way or the other, i shall, though a foreigner in your country, subscribe as much money as any other man towards supporting the right of the nation against the prosecution; and it is for this purpose only that i shall do it.( ) thomas paine. as i have not time to copy letters, you will excuse the corrections. in reading this letter at the trial the attorney interspersed comments. at the phrase, "mr. guelph and his profligate sons," he exclaimed: "this passage is contemptuous, scandalous, false, cruel. why, gentlemen, is mr. paine, in addition to the political doctrines he is teaching us in this country, to teach us the morality and religion of implacability? is he to teach human creatures, whose moments of existence depend upon the permission of a being, merciful, long-suffering, and of great goodness, that those youthful errors from which even royalty is not exempted, are to be treasured up in a vindictive memory, and are to receive sentence of irremissible sin at his hands.... if giving me pain was his object he has that hellish gratification." erskine, fame's counsel, protested in advance against the reading of this letter (of which he had heard), as containing matter likely to divert the jury from the subject of prosecution (the book). lord kenyon admitted the letter.--_editor._ p. s. i intended, had i staid in england, to have published the information, with my remarks upon it, before the trial came on; but as i am otherwise engaged, i reserve myself till the trial is over, when i shall reply fully to every thing you shall advance. xiii. on the propriety of bringing louis xvi. to trial.( ) read to the convention, november , . paris, nov. , . citizen president, as i do not know precisely what day the convention will resume the discussion on the trial of louis xvi., and, on account of my inability to express myself in french, i cannot speak at the tribune, i request permission to deposit in your hands the enclosed paper, which contains my opinion on that subject. i make this demand with so much more eagerness, because circumstances will prove how much it imports to france, that louis xvi. should continue to enjoy good health. i should be happy if the convention would have the goodness to hear this paper read this morning, as i propose sending a copy of it to london, to be printed in the english journals.( ) thomas paine. this address, which has suffered by alterations in all editions is here revised and completed by aid of the official document: "opinion de thomas payne, depute du département de la somme [error], concernant le jugement de louis xvi. précédé par sa lettre d'envoi au président de la convention. imprimé par ordre de la convention nationale. À paris. de l'imprimerie nationale." lamartine has censured paine for this speech; but the trial of the king was a foregone conclusion, and it will be noted that paine was already trying to avert popular wrath from the individual man by directing it against the general league of monarchs, and the monarchal system. nor would his plea for the king's life have been listened to but for this previous address.-- _editor._ of course no english journal could then venture to print it.--_editor._ a secretary read the opinion of thomas paine. i think it necessary that louis xvi. should be tried; not that this advice is suggested by a spirit of vengeance, but because this measure appears to me just, lawful, and conformable to sound policy. if louis is innocent, let us put him to prove his innocence; if he is guilty, let the national will determine whether he shall be pardoned or punished. but besides the motives personal to louis xvi., there are others which make his trial necessary. i am about to develope these motives, in the language which i think expresses them, and no other. i forbid myself the use of equivocal expression or of mere ceremony. there was formed among the crowned brigands of europe a conspiracy which threatened not only french liberty, but likewise that of all nations. every thing tends to the belief that louis xvi. was the partner of this horde of conspirators. you have this man in your power, and he is at present the only one of the band of whom you can make sure. i consider louis xvi. in the same point of view as the two first robbers taken up in the affair of the store room; their trial led to discovery of the gang to which they belonged. we have seen the unhappy soldiers of austria, of prussia, and the other powers which declared themselves our enemies, torn from their fire-sides, and drawn to butchery like wretched animals, to sustain, at the cost of their blood, the common cause of these crowned brigands. they loaded the inhabitants of those regions with taxes to support the expenses of the war. all this was not done solely for louis xvi. some of the conspirators have acted openly: but there is reason to presume that this conspiracy is composed of two classes of brigands; those who have taken up arms, and those who have lent to their cause secret encouragement and clandestine assistance. now it is indispensable to let france and the whole world know all these accomplices. a little time after the national convention was constituted, the minister for foreign affairs presented the picture of all the governments of europe,--those whose hostilities were public, and those that acted with a mysterious circumspection. this picture supplied grounds for just suspicions of the part the latter were disposed to take, and since then various circumstances have occurred to confirm those suspicions. we have already penetrated into some part of the conduct of mr. guelph, elector of hanover, and strong presumptions involve the same man, his court and ministers, in quality of king of england. m. calonne has constantly been favoured with a friendly reception at that court.( ) the arrival of mr. smith, secretary to mr. pitt, at coblentz, when the emigrants were assembling there; the recall of the english ambassador; the extravagant joy manifested by the court of st. james' at the false report of the defeat of dumouriez, when it was communicated by lord elgin, then minister of great britain at brussels--all these circumstances render him [george iii.] extremely suspicious; the trial of louis xvi. will probably furnish more decisive proofs. the long subsisting fear of a revolution in england, would alone, i believe, prevent that court from manifesting as much publicity in its operations as austria and prussia. another reason could be added to this: the inevitable decrease of credit, by means of which alone all the old governments could obtain fresh loans, in proportion as the probability of revolutions increased. whoever invests in the new loans of such governments must expect to lose his stock. every body knows that the landgrave of hesse fights only as far as he is paid. he has been for many years in the pay of the court of london. if the trial of louis xvi. could bring it to light, that this detestable dealer in human flesh has been paid with the produce of the taxes imposed on the english people, it would be justice to that nation to disclose that fact. it would at the same time give to france an exact knowledge of the character of that court, which has not ceased to be the most intriguing in europe, ever since its connexion with germany. calonne ( - ), made controller general of the treasury in , lavished the public money on the queen, on courtiers, and on himself (purchasing st. cloud and rambouillet), borrowing vast sums and deceiving the king as to the emptiness of the treasury, the annual deficit having risen in to millions of francs. he was then banished to lorraine, whence he proceeded to england, where he married the wealthy widow haveley. by his agency for the coblentz party he lost his fortune. in napoleon brought him back from london to paris, where he died the same year. --_editor._ louis xvi., considered as an individual, is an object beneath the notice of the republic; but when he is looked upon as a part of that band of conspirators, as an accused man whose trial may lead all nations in the world to know and detest the disastrous system of monarchy, and the plots and intrigues of their own courts, he ought to be tried. if the crimes for which louis xvi. is arraigned were absolutely personal to him, without reference to general conspiracies, and confined to the affairs of france, the plea of inviolability, that folly of the moment, might have been urged in his behalf with some appearance of reason; but he is arraigned not only for treasons against france, but for having conspired against all europe, and if france is to be just to all europe we ought to use every means in our power to discover the whole extent of that conspiracy. france is now a republic; she has completed her revolution; but she cannot earn all its advantages so long as she is surrounded with despotic governments. their armies and their marine oblige her also to keep troops and ships in readiness. it is therefore her immediate interest that all nations shall be as free as herself; that revolutions shall be universal; and since the trial of louis xvi. can serve to prove to the world the flagitiousness of governments in general, and the necessity of revolutions, she ought not to let slip so precious an opportunity. the despots of europe have formed alliances to preserve their respective authority, and to perpetuate the oppression of peoples. this is the end they proposed to themselves in their invasion of french territory. they dread the effect of the french revolution in the bosom of their own countries; and in hopes of preventing it, they are come to attempt the destruction of this revolution before it should attain its perfect maturity. their attempt has not been attended with success. france has already vanquished their armies; but it remains for her to sound the particulars of the conspiracy, to discover, to expose to the eyes of the world, those despots who had the infamy to take part in it; and the world expects from her that act of justice. these are my motives for demanding that louis xvi. be judged; and it is in this sole point of view that his trial appears to me of sufficient importance to receive the attention of the republic. as to "inviolability," i would not have such a word mentioned. if, seeing in louis xvi. only a weak and narrow-minded man, badly reared, like all his kind, given, as it is said, to frequent excesses of drunkenness--a man whom the national assembly imprudently raised again on a throne for which he was not made--he is shown hereafter some compassion, it shall be the result of the national magnanimity, and not the burlesque notion of a pretended "inviolability." thomas paine. xiv. reasons for preserving the life of louis capet, as delivered to the national convention, january , .( ) citizen president, my hatred and abhorrence of monarchy are sufficiently known: they originate in principles of reason and conviction, nor, except with life, can they ever be extirpated; but my compassion for the unfortunate, whether friend or enemy, is equally lively and sincere. i voted that louis should be tried, because it was necessary to afford proofs to the world of the perfidy, corruption, and abomination of the monarchical system. the infinity of evidence that has been produced exposes them in the most glaring and hideous colours; thence it results that monarchy, whatever form it may assume, arbitrary or otherwise, becomes necessarily a centre round which are united every species of corruption, and the kingly trade is no less destructive of all morality in the human breast, than the trade of an executioner is destructive of its sensibility. i remember, during my residence in another country, that i was exceedingly struck with a sentence of m. autheine, at the jacobins [club], which corresponds exactly with my own idea,--"make me a king to-day," said he, "and i shall be a robber to-morrow." printed in paris (hartley, adlard & son) and published in london with the addition of d. i. eaton's name, in . while paine was in prison, he was accused in england and america of having helped to bring louis xvi. to the scaffold. the english pamphlet has a brief preface in which it is presented "as a burnt offering to truth, in behalf of the most zealous friend and advocate of the rights of man; to protect him against the barbarous shafts of scandal and delusion, and as a reply to all the horrors which despots of every description have, with such unrelenting malice, attempted to fix on his conduct. but truth in the end must triumph: cease then such calumnies: all your efforts are in vain --you bite a file."--_editor._ nevertheless, i am inclined to believe that if louis capet had been born in obscure condition, had he lived within the circle of an amiable and respectable neighbourhood, at liberty to practice the duties of domestic life, had he been thus situated, i cannot believe that he would have shewn himself destitute of social virtues: we are, in a moment of fermentation like this, naturally little indulgent to his vices, or rather to those of his government; we regard them with additional horror and indignation; not that they are more heinous than those of his predecessors, but because our eyes are now open, and the veil of delusion at length withdrawn; yet the lamentable, degraded state to which he is actually reduced, is surely far less imputable to him than to the constituent assembly, which, of its own authority, without consent or advice of the people, restored him to the throne. i was in paris at the time of the flight, or abdication of louis xvi., and when he was taken and brought back. the proposal of restoring him to supreme power struck me with amazement; and although at that time i was not a french citizen, yet as a citizen of the world i employed all the efforts that depended on me to prevent it. a small society, composed only of five persons, two of whom are now members of the convention,( ) took at that time the name of the republican club (société républicaine). this society opposed the restoration of louis, not so much on account of his personal offences, as in order to overthrow the monarchy, and to erect on its ruins the republican system and an equal representation. with this design, i traced out in the english language certain propositions, which were translated with some trifling alterations, and signed by achille duchâtelet, now lieutenant-general in the army of the french republic, and at that time one of the five members which composed our little party: the law requiring the signature of a citizen at the bottom of each printed paper. condorect and paine; the other members were achille duchitelet, and probably nicolas de bonneville and lanthenas,--translator of paine's "works."--_editor._ the paper was indignantly torn by malouet; and brought forth in this very room as an article of accusation against the person who had signed it, the author and their adherents; but such is the revolution of events, that this paper is now received and brought forth for a very opposite purpose--to remind the nation of the errors of that unfortunate day, that fatal error of not having then banished louis xvi. from its bosom, and to plead this day in favour of his exile, preferable to his death. the paper in question, was conceived in the following terms: [the address constitutes the first chapter of the present volume.] having thus explained the principles and the exertions of the republicans at that fatal period, when louis was rein-stated in full possession of the executive power which by his flight had been suspended, i return to the subject, and to the deplorable situation in which the man is now actually involved. what was neglected at the time of which i have been speaking, has been since brought about by the force of necessity. the wilful, treacherous defects in the former constitution have been brought to light; the continual alarm of treason and conspiracy aroused the nation, and produced eventually a second revolution. the people have beat down royalty, never, never to rise again; they have brought louis capet to the bar, and demonstrated in the face of the whole world, the intrigues, the cabals, the falsehood, corruption, and rooted depravity, the inevitable effects of monarchical government. there remains then only one question to be considered, what is to be done with this man? for myself i seriously confess, that when i reflect on the unaccountable folly that restored the executive power to his hands, all covered as he was with perjuries and treason, i am far more ready to condemn the constituent assembly than the unfortunate prisoner louis capet. but abstracted from every other consideration, there is one circumstance in his life which ought to cover or at least to palliate a great number of his transgressions, and this very circumstance affords to the french nation a blessed occasion of extricating itself from the yoke of kings, without defiling itself in the impurities of their blood. it is to france alone, i know, that the united states of america owe that support which enabled them to shake off the unjust and tyrannical yoke of britain. the ardour and zeal which she displayed to provide both men and money, were the natural consequence of a thirst for liberty. but as the nation at that time, restrained by the shackles of her own government, could only act by the means of a monarchical organ, this organ--whatever in other respects the object might be--certainly performed a good, a great action. let then those united states be the safeguard and asylum of louis capet. there, hereafter, far removed from the miseries and crimes of royalty, he may learn, from the constant aspect of public prosperity, that the true system of government consists not in kings, but in fair, equal, and honourable representation. in relating this circumstance, and in submitting this proposition, i consider myself as a citizen of both countries. i submit it as a citizen of america, who feels the debt of gratitude which he owes to every frenchman. i submit it also as a man, who, although the enemy of kings, cannot forget that they are subject to human frailties. i support my proposition as a citizen of the french republic, because it appears to me the best, the most politic measure that can be adopted. as far as my experience in public life extends, i have ever observed, that the great mass of the people are invariably just, both in their intentions and in their objects; but the true method of accomplishing an effect does not always shew itself in the first instance. for example: the english nation had groaned under the despotism of the stuarts. hence charles i. lost his life; yet charles ii. was restored to all the plenitude of power, which his father had lost. forty years had not expired when the same family strove to reestablish their ancient oppression; so the nation then banished from its territories the whole race. the remedy was effectual. the stuart family sank into obscurity, confounded itself with the multitude, and is at length extinct. the french nation has carried her measures of government to a greater length. france is not satisfied with exposing the guilt of the monarch. she has penetrated into the vices and horrors of the monarchy. she has shown them clear as daylight, and forever crushed that system; and he, whoever he may be, that should ever dare to reclaim those rights would be regarded not as a pretender, but punished as a traitor. two brothers of louis capet have banished themselves from the country; but they are obliged to comply with the spirit and etiquette of the courts where they reside. they can advance no pretensions on their own account, so long as louis capet shall live. monarchy, in france, was a system pregnant with crime and murders, cancelling all natural ties, even those by which brothers are united. we know how often they have assassinated each other to pave a way to power. as those hopes which the emigrants had reposed in louis xvi. are fled, the last that remains rests upon his death, and their situation inclines them to desire this catastrophe, that they may once again rally around a more active chief, and try one further effort under the fortune of the ci-devant monsieur and d'artois. that such an enterprize would precipitate them into a new abyss of calamity and disgrace, it is not difficult to foresee; yet it might be attended with mutual loss, and it is our duty as legislators not to spill a drop of blood when our purpose may be effectually accomplished without it. it has already been proposed to abolish the punishment of death, and it is with infinite satisfaction that i recollect the humane and excellent oration pronounced by robespierre on that subject in the constituent assembly. this cause must find its advocates in every corner where enlightened politicians and lovers of humanity exist, and it ought above all to find them in this assembly. monarchical governments have trained the human race, and inured it to the sanguinary arts and refinements of punishment; and it is exactly the same punishment which has so long shocked the sight and tormented the patience of the people, that now, in their turn, they practice in revenge upon their oppressors. but it becomes us to be strictly on our guard against the abomination and perversity of monarchical examples: as france has been the first of european nations to abolish royalty, let her also be the first to abolish the punishment of death, and to find out a milder and more effectual substitute. in the particular case now under consideration, i submit the following propositions: st, that the national convention shall pronounce sentence of banishment on louis and his family. d, that louis capet shall be detained in prison till the end of the war, and at that epoch the sentence of banishment to be executed. xv. shall louis xvi. have respite? speech in the convention, january , .( ) (read in french by deputy bancal,) very sincerely do i regret the convention's vote of yesterday for death. marat [_interrupting_]: i submit that thomas paine is incompetent to vote on this question; being a quaker his religious principles are opposed to capital punishment. [_much confusion, quieted by cries for "freedom of speech" on which bancal proceeds with paine's speech_.] not included in any previous edition of paine's "works." it is here printed from contemporary french reports, modified only by paine's own quotations of a few sentences in his memorial to monroe (xxi.).--_editor._ i have the advantage of some experience; it is near twenty years that i have been engaged in the cause of liberty, having contributed something to it in the revolution of the united states of america, my language has always been that of liberty _and_ humanity, and i know that nothing so exalts a nation as the union of these two principles, under all circumstances. i know that the public mind of france, and particularly that of paris, has been heated and irritated by the dangers to which they have been exposed; but could we carry our thoughts into the future, when the dangers are ended and the irritations forgotten, what to-day seems an act of justice may then appear an act of vengeance. [_murmurs_.] my anxiety for the cause of france has become for the moment concern for her honor. if, on my return to america, i should employ myself on a history of the french revolution, i had rather record a thousand errors on the side of mercy, than be obliged to tell one act of severe justice. i voted against an appeal to the people, because it appeared to me that the convention was needlessly wearied on that point; but i so voted in the hope that this assembly would pronounce against death, and for the same punishment that the nation would have voted, at least in my opinion, that is for reclusion during the war, and banishment thereafter.( ) that is the punishment most efficacious, because it includes the whole family at once, and none other can so operate. i am still against the appeal to the primary assemblies, because there is a better method. this convention has been elected to form a constitution, which will be submitted to the primary assemblies. after its acceptance a necessary consequence will be an election and another assembly. we cannot suppose that the present convention will last more than five or six months. the choice of new deputies will express the national opinion, on the propriety or impropriety of your sentence, with as much efficacy as if those primary assemblies had been consulted on it. as the duration of our functions here cannot be long, it is a part of our duty to consider the interests of those who shall replace us. if by any act of ours the number of the nation's enemies shall be needlessly increased, and that of its friends diminished,--at a time when the finances may be more strained than to-day,--we should not be justifiable for having thus unnecessarily heaped obstacles in the path of our successors. let us therefore not be precipitate in our decisions. it is possible that the course of the debate may have produced some reaction among the people, but when paine voted against submitting the king's fate to the popular vote it was believed by the king and his friends that it would be fatal. the american minister, gouverneur morris, who had long been acting for the king, wrote to president washington, jan. , : "the king's fate is to be decided next monday, the th. that unhappy man, conversing with one of his council on his own fate, calmly summed up the motives of every kind, and concluded that a majority of the council would vote for referring his case to the people, and that in consequence he should be massacred." writing to washington on dec. , , morris mentions having heard from paine that he was to move the king's banishment to america, and he may then have informed paine that the king believed reference of his case to popular vote would be fatal. genet was to have conducted the royal family to america.-- _editor._ france has but one ally--the united states of america. that is the only nation that can furnish france with naval provisions, for the kingdoms of northern europe are, or soon will be, at war with her. it unfortunately happens that the person now under discussion is considered by the americans as having been the friend of their revolution. his execution will be an affliction to them, and it is in your power not to wound the feelings of your ally. could i speak the french language i would descend to your bar, and in their name become your petitioner to respite the execution of the sentence on louis. thuriot: this is not the language of thomas paine. marat: i denounce the interpreter. i maintain that it is not thomas paine's opinion. it is an untrue translation. garran: i have read the original, and the translation is correct.( ) [_prolonged uproar. paine, still standing in the tribune beside his interpreter, deputy bancal, declared the sentiments to be his._] your executive committee will nominate an ambassador to philadelphia; my sincere wish is that he may announce to america that the national convention of france, out of pure friendship to america, has consented to respite louis. that people, by my vote, ask you to delay the execution. ah, citizens, give not the tyrant of england the triumph of seeing the man perish on the scaffold who had aided my much-loved america to break his chains! marat ["_launching himself into the middle of the hall_"]: paine voted against the punishment of death because he is a quaker. paine: i voted against it from both moral motives and motives of public policy. see guizot, "hist, of france," vi., p. . "hist. parliamentair," vol. ii., p. . louis blanc says that paine's appeal was so effective that marat interrupted mainly in order to destroy its effect.--"hist, de la rev.," tome vii, .--_editor._ xvi. declaration of rights.( ) the object of all union of men in society being maintenance of their natural rights, civil and political, these rights are the basis of the social pact: their recognition and their declaration ought to precede the constitution which assures their guarantee. . the natural rights of men, civil and political, are liberty, equality, security, property, social protection, and resistance to oppression. . liberty consists in the right to do whatever is not contrary to the rights of others: thus, exercise of the natural rights of each individual has no limits other than those which secure to other members of society enjoyment of the same rights. in his appeal from prison to the convention (august , ) paine states that he had, as a member of the committee for framing the constitution, prepared a plan, which was in the hands of barère, also of that committee. i have not yet succeeded in finding paine's constitution, but it is certain that the work of framing the constitution of was mainly entrusted to paine and condorcet. dr. john moore, in his work on the french revolution, describes the two at their work; and it is asserted that he "assisted in drawing up the french declaration of rights," by "juvencus," author of an able "essay on the life and genius of thomas paine," whose information came from a personal friend of paine. ("aphorisms, opinions, and reflections of thomas paine," etc., london, . pp. , .) a translation of the declaration and constitution appeared in england (debrett, picadilly, ), but with some faults. the present translation is from "oeuvres complètes de condorcet," tome xviii. the committee reported their constitution february th, and april th was set for its discussion, robespierre then demanded separate discussion of the declaration of rights, to which he objected that it made no mention of the supreme being, and that its extreme principles of freedom would shield illicit traffic. paine and jefferson were troubled that the united states constitution contained no declaration of rights, it being a fundamental principle in paine's theory of government that such a declaration was the main safeguard of the individual against the despotism of numbers. see supra, vol. ii.t pp. , .--_editor._. . the preservation of liberty depends on submission to the law, which is the expression of the general will. nothing unforbidden by law can be hindered, and none may be forced to do what the law does not command. . every man is free to make known his thoughts and opinions. . freedom of the press, and every other means of publishing one's opinion, cannot be interdicted, suspended, or limited. . every citizen shall be free in the exercise of his religion (_culte_). . equality consists in the enjoyment by every one of the same rights. . the law should be equal for all, whether it rewards or punishes, protects or represses. . all citizens are admissible to all public positions, employments, and functions. free nations recognize no grounds of preference save talents and virtues. . security consists in the protection accorded by society to every citizen for the preservation of his person, property, and rights. . none should be sued, accused, arrested, or detained, save in cases determined by the law, and in accordance with forms prescribed by it. every other act against a citizen is arbitrary and null. . those who solicit, further, sign, execute, or cause to be executed, such arbitrary acts are culpable, and should be punished. . citizens against whom the execution of such acts is attempted have the right to repel force by force; but every citizen summoned or arrested by authority of the law, and in the forms by it prescribed, should instantly obey: he renders himself guilty by resistance. . every man being presumed innocent until legally pronounced guilty, should his arrest be deemed indispensable, all rigor not necessary to secure his person should be severely represssed by law. . none should be punished save in virtue of a law formally enacted, promulgated anterior to the offence, and legally applied. . any law that should punish offences committed before its existence would be an arbitrary act. retroactive effect given to the law is a crime. . the law should award only penalties strictly and evidently necessary to the general safety. penalties should be proportioned to offences, and useful to society. . the right of property consists in every man's being master in the disposal, at his will, of his goods, capital, income, and industry. . no kind of labor, commerce, or culture, can be prohibited to any one: he may make, sell, and transport every species of production. . every man may engage his services and his time; but he cannot sell himself; his person is not an alienable property. . no one can be deprived of the least portion of his property without his consent, unless evidently required by public necessity, legally determined, and under the condition of a just indemnity in advance. . no tax shall be imposed except for the general welfare, and to meet public needs. all citizens have the right to unite personally, or by their representatives, in the fixing of imposts. . instruction is the need of all, and society owes it to all its members equally. . public succours are a sacred debt of society; it is for the law to determine their extent and application. . the social guarantee of the rights of man rests on the national sovereignty. . this sovereignty is one, indivisible, imprescriptible, and inalienable. . it resides essentially in the whole people, and every citizen has an equal right to unite in its exercise. . no partial assemblage of citizens, and no individual, may attribute to themselves sovereignty, or exercise any authority, or discharge any public function, without formal delegation thereto by the law. . the social guarantee cannot exist if the limits of public administration are not clearly determined by law, and if the responsibility of all public functionaries is not assured. . all citizens are bound to unite in this guarantee, and in enforcing the law when summoned in its name. . men united in society should have legal means of resisting oppression. . there is oppression when any law violates the natural rights, civil and political, which it should guarantee. there is oppression when the law is violated by public officials in its application to individual cases. there is oppression when arbitrary actions violate the rights of citizen against the express purpose (_expression_) of the law. in a free government the mode of resisting these different acts of oppression should be regulated by the constitution. . a people possesses always the right to reform and alter its constitution. a generation has no right to subject a future generation to its laws; and all heredity in offices is absurd and tyrannical. xvii. private letters to jefferson. paris, april, . my dear friend,--the gentleman (dr. romer) to whom i entrust this letter is an intimate acquaintance of lavater; but i have not had the opportunity of seeing him, as he had set off for havre prior to my writing this letter, which i forward to him under cover from one of his friends, who is also an acquaintance of mine. we are now in an extraordinary crisis, and it is not altogether without some considerable faults here. dumouriez, partly from having no fixed principles of his own, and partly from the continual persecution of the jacobins, who act without either prudence or morality, has gone off to the enemy, and taken a considerable part of the army with him. the expedition to holland has totally failed, and all brabant is again in the hands of the austrians. you may suppose the consternation which such a sudden reverse of fortune has occasioned, but it has been without commotion. dumouriez threatened to be in paris in three weeks. it is now three weeks ago; he is still on the frontier near to mons with the enemy, who do not make any progress. dumouriez has proposed to re-establish the former constitution in which plan the austrians act with him. but if france and the national convention act prudently this project will not succeed. in the first place there is a popular disposition against it, and there is force sufficient to prevent it. in the next place, a great deal is to be taken into the calculation with respect to the enemy. there are now so many persons accidentally jumbled together as to render it exceedingly difficult to them to agree upon any common object. the first object, that of restoring the old monarchy, is evidently given up by the proposal to re-establish the late constitution. the object of england and prussia was to preserve holland, and the object of austria was to recover brabant; while those separate objects lasted, each party having one, the confederation could hold together, each helping the other; but after this i see not how a common object is to be formed. to all this is to be added the probable disputes about opportunity, the expence, and the projects of reimbursements. the enemy has once adventured into france, and they had the permission or the good fortune to get back again. on every military calculation it is a hazardous adventure, and armies are not much disposed to try a second time the ground upon which they have been defeated. had this revolution been conducted consistently with its principles, there was once a good prospect of extending liberty through the greatest part of europe; but i now relinquish that hope. should the enemy by venturing into france put themselves again in a condition of being captured, the hope will revive; but this is a risk i do not wish to see tried, lest it should fail. as the prospect of a general freedom is now much shortened, i begin to contemplate returning home. i shall await the event of the proposed constitution, and then take my final leave of europe. i have not written to the president, as i have nothing to communicate more than in this letter. please to present him my affection and compliments, and remember me among the circle of my friends. your sincere and affectionate friend, thomas paine. p. s. i just now received a letter from general lewis morris, who tells me that the house and barn on my farm at new rochelle are burnt down. i assure you i shall not bring money enough to build another. paris, oct., . i wrote you by captain dominick who was to sail from havre about the th of this month. this will probably be brought you by mr. barlow or col. oswald. since my letter by dominick i am every day more convinced and impressed with the propriety of congress sending commissioners to europe to confer with the ministers of the jesuitical powers on the means of terminating the war. the enclosed printed paper will shew there are a variety of subjects to be taken into consideration which did not appear at first, all of which have some tendency to put an end to the war. i see not how this war is to terminate if some intermediate power does not step forward. there is now no prospect that france can carry revolutions into europe on the one hand, or that the combined powers can conquer france on the other hand. it is a sort of defensive war on both sides. this being the case, how is the war to close? neither side will ask for peace though each may wish it. i believe that england and holland are tired of the war. their commerce and manufactures have suffered most exceedingly,--besides this, it is for them a war without an object. russia keeps herself at a distance. i cannot help repeating my wish that congress would send commissioners, and i wish also that yourself would venture once more across the ocean, as one of them. if the commissioners rendezvous at holland they would know what steps to take. they could call mr. pinckney [gen. thomas pinckney, american minister in england] to their councils, and it would be of use, on many accounts, that one of them should come over from holland to france. perhaps a long truce, were it proposed by the neutral powers, would have all the effects of a peace, without the difficulties attending the adjustment of all the forms of peace. yours affectionately, thomas paine. xviii. letter to danton.( ) paris, may , nd year of the republic [ .] citoyen danton: as you read english, i write this letter to you without passing it through the hands of a translator. i am exceedingly disturbed at the distractions, jealousies, discontents and uneasiness that reign among us, and which, if they continue, will bring ruin and disgrace on the republic. when i left america in the year , it was my intention to return the year following, but the french revolution, and the prospect it afforded of extending the principles of liberty and fraternity through the greater part of europe, have induced me to prolong my stay upwards of six years. i now despair of seeing the great object of european liberty accomplished, and my despair arises not from the combined foreign powers, not from the intrigues of aristocracy and priestcraft, but from the tumultuous misconduct with which the internal affairs of the present revolution are conducted. all that now can be hoped for is limited to france only, and i agree with your motion of not interfering in the government of any foreign country, nor permitting any foreign country to interfere in the government of france. this decree was necessary as a preliminary toward terminating the war. but while these internal contentions continue, while the hope remains to the enemy of seeing the republic fall to pieces, while not only the representatives of the departments but representation itself is publicly insulted, as it has lately been and now is by the people of paris, or at least by the tribunes, the enemy will be encouraged to hang about the frontiers and await the issue of circumstances. this admirable letter was brought to light by the late m. taine, and first published in full by taine's translator, john durand ("new materials for the history of the american revolution," ). the letter to marat mentioned by paine has not been discovered. danton followed paine to prison, and on meeting him there said: "that which you did for the happiness and liberty of your country i tried to do for mine. i have been less fortunate, but not less innocent. they will send me to the scaffold; very well, my friend, i will go gaily." m. taine in la révolution (vol. ii., pp. , , ) refers to this letter of paine, and says: "compared with the speeches and writings of the time, it produces the strangest effect by its practical good sense." --_editor._, i observe that the confederated powers have not yet recognized monsieur, or d'artois, as regent, nor made any proclamation in favour of any of the bourbons; but this negative conduct admits of two different conclusions. the one is that of abandoning the bourbons and the war together; the other is that of changing the object of the war and substituting a partition scheme in the place of their first object, as they have done by poland. if this should be their object, the internal contentions that now rage will favour that object far more than it favoured their former object. the danger every day increases of a rupture between paris and the departments. the departments did not send their deputies to paris to be insulted, and every insult shown to them is an insult to the departments that elected and sent them. i see but one effectual plan to prevent this rupture taking place, and that is to fix the residence of the convention, and of the future assemblies, at a distance from paris. i saw, during the american revolution, the exceeding inconvenience that arose by having the government of congress within the limits of any municipal jurisdiction. congress first resided in philadelphia, and after a residence of four years it found it necessary to leave it. it then adjourned to the state of jersey. it afterwards removed to new york; it again removed from new york to philadelphia, and after experiencing in every one of these places the great inconvenience of a government, it formed the project of building a town, not within the limits of any municipal jurisdiction, for the future residence of congress. in any one of the places where congress resided, the municipal authority privately or openly opposed itself to the authority of congress, and the people of each of these places expected more attention from congress than their equal share with the other states amounted to. the same thing now takes place in france, but in a far greater excess. i see also another embarrassing circumstance arising in paris of which we have had full experience in america. i mean that of fixing the price of provisions. but if this measure is to be attempted it ought to be done by the municipality. the convention has nothing to do with regulations of this kind; neither can they be carried into practice. the people of paris may say they will not give more than a certain price for provisions, but as they cannot compel the country people to bring provisions to market the consequence will be directly contrary to their expectations, and they will find dearness and famine instead of plenty and cheapness. they may force the price down upon the stock in hand, but after that the market will be empty. i will give you an example. in philadelphia we undertook, among other regulations of this kind, to regulate the price of salt; the consequence was that no salt was brought to market, and the price rose to thirty-six shillings sterling per bushel. the price before the war was only one shilling and sixpence per bushel; and we regulated the price of flour (farina) till there was none in the market, and the people were glad to procure it at any price. there is also a circumstance to be taken into the account which is not much attended to. the assignats are not of the same value they were a year ago, and as the quantity increases the value of them will diminish. this gives the appearance of things being dear when they are not so in fact, for in the same proportion that any kind of money falls in value articles rise in price. if it were not for this the quantity of assignats would be too great to be circulated. paper money in america fell so much in value from this excessive quantity of it, that in the year i gave three hundred paper dollars for one pair of worsted stockings. what i write you upon this subject is experience, and not merely opinion. i have no personal interest in any of these matters, nor in any party disputes. i attend only to general principles. as soon as a constitution shall be established i shall return to america; and be the future prosperity of france ever so great, i shall enjoy no other part of it than the happiness of knowing it. in the mean time i am distressed to see matters so badly conducted, and so little attention paid to moral principles. it is these things that injure the character of the revolution and discourage the progress of liberty all over the world. when i began this letter i did not intend making it so lengthy, but since i have gone thus far i will fill up the remainder of the sheet with such matters as occur to me. there ought to be some regulation with respect to the spirit of denunciation that now prevails. if every individual is to indulge his private malignancy or his private ambition, to denounce at random and without any kind of proof, all confidence will be undermined and all authority be destroyed. calumny is a species of treachery that ought to be punished as well as any other kind of treachery. it is a private vice productive of public evils; because it is possible to irritate men into disaffection by continual calumny who never intended to be disaffected. it is therefore, equally as necessary to guard against the evils of unfounded or malignant suspicion as against the evils of blind confidence. it is equally as necessary to protect the characters of public officers from calumny as it is to punish them for treachery or misconduct. for my own part i shall hold it a matter of doubt, until better evidence arises than is known at present, whether dumouriez has been a traitor from policy or resentment. there was certainly a time when he acted well, but it is not every man whose mind is strong enough to bear up against ingratitude, and i think he experienced a great deal of this before he revolted. calumny becomes harmless and defeats itself, when it attempts to act upon too large a scale. thus the denunciation of the sections [of paris] against the twenty-two deputies [girondists] falls to the ground. the departments that elected them are better judges of their moral and political characters than those who have denounced them. this denunciation will injure paris in the opinion of the departments because it has the appearance of dictating to them what sort of deputies they shall elect. most of the acquaintances that i have in the convention are among those who are in that list, and i know there are not better men nor better patriots than what they are. i have written a letter to marat of the same date as this but not on the same subject. he may show it to you if he chuse. votre ami, thomas paine. citoyen danton. xix. a citizen of america to the citizens of europe ( ) th year of independence. state archives, paris: États unis, vol. , fol. . this pamphlet is in english, without indication of authorship or of the place of publication. it is accompanied by a french translation (ms.) inscribed "par thomas payne." in the printed pamphlet the date ( th year, etc) is preceded by the french words (printed): "philadelphie juillet ." it was no doubt the pamphlet sent by paine to monroe, with various documents relating to his imprisonment, describing it as "a letter which i had printed here as an american letter, some copies of which i sent to mr. jefferson." a considerable portion of the pamphlet embodies, with occasional changes of phraseology, a manuscript (États unis, vol. , do. ) endorsed: "january . thorn. payne. copie. observations on the situation of the powers joined against france." this opens with the following paragraph: "it is always useful to know the position and the designs of one's enemies. it is much easier to do so by combining and comparing the events, and by examining the consequences which result from them, than by forming one's judgment by letters found or intercepted. these letters could be fabricated with the intention of deceiving, but events or circumstances have a character which is proper to them. if in the course of our political operations we mistake the designs of our enemy, it leads us to do precisely that which he desires we should do, and it happens by the fact, but against our intentions, that we work for him." that the date written on this ms. is erroneous appears by an allusion to the defeat of the duke of york at dunkirk in the closing paragraph: "there are three distinct parties in england at this moment: the government party, the revolutionary party, and an intermedial party,--which is only opposed to the war on account of the expense it entails, and the harm it does commerce and manufactures. i am speaking of the people, and not of the parliament. the latter is divided into two parties: the ministerial, and the anti-ministerial. the revolutionary party, the intermedial party, and the anti- ministerial party, will all rejoice, publicly or privately, at the defeat of the duke of york at dunkirk." the two paragraphs quoted represent the only actual additions to the pamphlet. i have a clipping from the london morning chronicle of friday, april , , containing the part of the pamphlet headed "of the present state of europe and the confederacy," signed "thomas paine, author of common sense, etc." on february , , the convention having declared war, appointed paine, barère, condorcet and faber, a committee to draft an address to the english people. it was never done, but these fragments may represent notes written by paine with reference to that task. the pamphlet probably appeared late in september, .--_editor._, understanding that a proposal is intended to be made at the ensuing meeting of the congress of the united states of america "to send commissioners to europe to confer with the ministers of all the neutral powers for the purpose of negotiating preliminaries of peace," i address this letter to you on that subject, and on the several matters connected therewith. in order to discuss this subject through all its circumstances, it will be necessary to take a review of the state of europe, prior to the french revolution. it will from thence appear, that the powers leagued against france are fighting to attain an object, which, were it possible to be attained, would be injurious to themselves. this is not an uncommon error in the history of wars and governments, of which the conduct of the english government in the war against america is a striking instance. she commenced that war for the avowed purpose of subjugating america; and after wasting upwards of one hundred millions sterling, and then abandoning the object, she discovered, in the course of three or four years, that the prosperity of england was increased, instead of being diminished, by the independence of america. in short, every circumstance is pregnant with some natural effect, upon which intentions and opinions have no influence; and the political error lies in misjudging what the effect will be. england misjudged it in the american war, and the reasons i shall now offer will shew, that she misjudges it in the present war. in discussing this subject, i leave out of the question everything respecting forms and systems of government; for as all the governments of europe differ from each other, there is no reason that the government of france should not differ from the rest. the clamours continually raised in all the countries of europe were, that the family of the bourbons was become too powerful; that the intrigues of the court of france endangered the peace of europe. austria saw with a jealous eye the connection of france with prussia; and prussia, in her turn became jealous of the connection of france with austria; england had wasted millions unsuccessfully in attempting to prevent the family compact with spain; russia disliked the alliance between france and turkey; and turkey became apprehensive of the inclination of france towards an alliance with russia. sometimes the quadruple alliance alarmed some of the powers, and at other times a contrary system alarmed others, and in all those cases the charge was always made against the intrigues of the bourbons. admitting those matters to be true, the only thing that could have quieted the apprehensions of all those powers with respect to the interference of france, would have been her entire neutrality in europe; but this was impossible to be obtained, or if obtained was impossible to be secured, because the genius of her government was repugnant to all such restrictions. it now happens that by entirely changing the genius of her government, which france has done for herself, this neutrality, which neither wars could accomplish nor treaties secure, arises naturally of itself, and becomes the ground upon which the war should terminate. it is the thing that approaches the nearest of all others to what ought to be the political views of all the european powers; and there is nothing that can so effectually secure this neutrality, as that the genius of the french government should be different from the rest of europe. but if their object is to restore the bourbons and monarchy together, they will unavoidably restore with it all the evils of which they have complained; and the first question of discord will be, whose ally is that monarchy to be? will england agree to the restoration of the family compact against which she has been fighting and scheming ever since it existed? will prussia agree to restore the alliance between france and austria, or will austria agree to restore the former connection between france and prussia, formed on purpose to oppose herself; or will spain or russia, or any of the maritime powers, agree that france and her navy should be allied to england? in fine, will any of the powers agree to strengthen the hands of the other against itself? yet all these cases involve themselves in the original question of the restoration of the bourbons; and on the other hand, all of them disappear by the neutrality of france. if their object is not to restore the bourbons, it must be the impracticable project of a partition of the country. the bourbons will then be out of the question, or, more properly speaking, they will be put in a worse condition; for as the preservation of the bourbons made a part of the first object, the extirpation of them makes a part of the second. their pretended friends will then become interested in their destruction, because it is favourable to the purpose of partition that none of the nominal claimants should be left in existence. but however the project of a partition may at first blind the eyes of the confederacy, or however each of them may hope to outwit the other in the progress or in the end, the embarrassments that will arise are insurmountable. but even were the object attainable, it would not be of such general advantage to the parties as the neutrality of france, which costs them nothing, and to obtain which they would formerly have gone to war. of the present state of europe, and the confederacy. in the first place the confederacy is not of that kind that forms itself originally by concert and consent. it has been forced together by chance--a heterogeneous mass, held only by the accident of the moment; and the instant that accident ceases to operate, the parties will retire to their former rivalships. i will now, independently of the impracticability of a partition project, trace out some of the embarrassments which will arise among the confederated parties; for it is contrary to the interest of a majority of them that such a project should succeed. to understand this part of the subject it is necessary, in the first place, to cast an eye over the map of europe, and observe the geographical situation of the several parts of the confederacy; for however strongly the passionate politics of the moment may operate, the politics that arise from geographical situation are the most certain, and will in all cases finally prevail. the world has been long amused with what is called the "_balance of power_." but it is not upon armies only that this balance depends. armies have but a small circle of action. their progress is slow and limited. but when we take maritime power into the calculation, the scale extends universally. it comprehends all the interests connected with commerce. the two great maritime powers are england and france. destroy either of those, and the balance of naval power is destroyed. the whole world of commerce that passes on the ocean would then lie at the mercy of the other, and the ports of any nation in europe might be blocked up. the geographical situation of those two maritime powers comes next under consideration. each of them occupies one entire side of the channel from the straits of dover and calais to the opening into the atlantic. the commerce of all the northern nations, from holland to russia, must pass the straits of dover and calais, and along the channel, to arrive at the atlantic. this being the case, the systematical politics of all the nations, northward of the straits of dover and calais, can be ascertained from their geographical situation; for it is necessary to the safety of their commerce that the two sides of the channel, either in whole or in part, should not be in the possession either of england or france. while one nation possesses the whole of one side, and the other nation the other side, the northern nations cannot help seeing that in any situation of things their commerce will always find protection on one side or the other. it may sometimes be that of england and sometimes that of france. again, while the english navy continues in its present condition, it is necessary that another navy should exist to controul the universal sway the former would otherwise have over the commerce of all nations. france is the only nation in europe where this balance can be placed. the navies of the north, were they sufficiently powerful, could not be sufficiently operative. they are blocked up by the ice six months in the year. spain lies too remote; besides which, it is only for the sake of her american mines that she keeps up her navy. applying these cases to the project of a partition of france, it will appear, that the project involves with it a destruction of the balance of maritime power; because it is only by keeping france entire and indivisible that the balance can be kept up. this is a case that at first sight lies remote and almost hidden. but it interests all the maritime and commercial nations in europe in as great a degree as any case that has ever come before them.--in short, it is with war as it is with law. in law, the first merits of the case become lost in the multitude of arguments; and in war they become lost in the variety of events. new objects arise that take the lead of all that went before, and everything assumes a new aspect. this was the case in the last great confederacy in what is called the succession war, and most probably will be the case in the present. i have now thrown together such thoughts as occurred to me on the several subjects connected with the confederacy against france, and interwoven with the interest of the neutral powers. should a conference of the neutral powers take place, these observations will, at least, serve to generate others. the whole matter will then undergo a more extensive investigation than it is in my power to give; and the evils attending upon either of the projects, that of restoring the bourbons, or of attempting a partition of france, will have the calm opportunity of being fully discussed. on the part of england, it is very extraordinary that she should have engaged in a former confederacy, and a long expensive war, to _prevent_ the family compact, and now engage in another confederacy to _preserve_ it. and on the part of the other powers, it is as inconsistent that they should engage in a partition project, which, could it be executed, would immediately destroy the balance of maritime power in europe, and would probably produce a second war, to remedy the political errors of the first. a citizen of the united states of america. xx. appeal to the convention.( ) citizens representatives: if i should not express myself with the energy i used formerly to do, you will attribute it to the very dangerous illness i have suffered in the prison of the luxembourg. for several days i was insensible of my own existence; and though i am much recovered, it is with exceeding great difficulty that i find power to write you this letter. written in luxembourg prison, august , . robespierre having fallen july th, those who had been imprisoned under his authority were nearly all at once released, but paine remained. there were still three conspirators against him on the committee of public safety, and to that committee this appeal was unfortunately confided; consequently it never reached the convention. the circumstances are related at length infra, in the introduction to the memorial to monroe (xxi.). it will also be seen that paine was mistaken in his belief that his imprisonment was due to the enmity of robespierre, and this he vaguely suspected when his imprisonment was prolonged three months after robespierre's death.--_editor._. but before i proceed further, i request the convention to observe: that this is the first line that has come from me, either to the convention or to any of the committees, since my imprisonment,--which is approaching to eight months. --ah, my friends, eight months' loss of liberty seems almost a life-time to a man who has been, as i have been, the unceasing defender of liberty for twenty years. i have now to inform the convention of the reason of my not having written before. it is a year ago that i had strong reason to believe that robespierre was my inveterate enemy, as he was the enemy of every man of virtue and humanity. the address that was sent to the convention some time about last august from arras, the native town of robespierre, i have always been informed was the work of that hypocrite and the partizans he had in the place. the intention of that address was to prepare the way for destroying me, by making the people declare (though without assigning any reason) that i had lost their confidence; the address, however, failed of success, as it was immediately opposed by a counter-address from st. omer, which declared the direct contrary. but the strange power that robespierre, by the most consummate hypocrisy and the most hardened cruelties, had obtained, rendered any attempt on my part to obtain justice not only useless but dangerous; for it is the nature of tyranny always to strike a deeper blow when any attempt has been made to repel a former one. this being my situation, i submitted with patience to the hardness of my fate and waited the event of brighter days. i hope they are now arrived to the nation and to me. citizens, when i left the united states in the year i promised to all my friends that i would return to them the next year; but the hope of seeing a revolution happily established in france, that might serve as a model to the rest of europe,( ) and the earnest and disinterested desire of rendering every service in my power to promote it, induced me to defer my return to that country, and to the society of my friends, for more than seven years. this long sacrifice of private tranquillity, especially after having gone through the fatigues and dangers of the american revolution which continued almost eight years, deserved a better fate than the long imprisonment i have silently suffered. but it is not the nation but a faction that has done me this injustice. parties and factions, various and numerous as they have been, i have always avoided. my heart was devoted to all france, and the object to which i applied myself was the constitution. the plan which i proposed to the committee, of which i was a member, is now in the hands of barère, and it will speak for itself. revolutions have now acquired such sanguinary associations that it is important to bear in mind that by "revolution" paine always means simply a change or reformation of government, which might be and ought to be bloodless. see "rights of man" part ii., vol. ii. of this work, pp. , .--:_editor_. it is perhaps proper that i inform you of the cause as-assigned in the order for my imprisonment. it is that i am 'a foreigner'; whereas, the _foreigner_ thus imprisoned was invited into france by a decree of the late national assembly, and that in the hour of her greatest danger, when invaded by austrians and prussians. he was, moreover, a citizen of the united states of america, an ally of france, and not a subject of any country in europe, and consequently not within the intentions of any decree concerning foreigners. but any excuse can be made to serve the purpose of malignity when in power. i will not intrude on your time by offering any apology for the broken and imperfect manner in which i have expressed myself. i request you to accept it with the sincerity with which it comes from my heart; and i conclude with wishing fraternity and prosperity to france, and union and happiness to her representatives. citizens, i have now stated to you my situation, and i can have no doubt but your justice will restore me to the liberty of which i have been deprived. thomas paine. luxembourg, thermidor , nd year of the french republic, one and indivisible. xxi. the memorial to monroe. editor's historical introduction: the memorial is here printed from the manuscript of paine now among the morrison papers, in the british museum,--no doubt the identical document penned in luxembourg prison. the paper in the united states state department (vol. vii., monroe papers) is accompanied by a note by monroe: "mr. paine, luxembourg, on my arrival in france, . my answer was after the receipt of his second letter. it is thought necessary to print only those parts of his that relate directly to his confinement, and to omit all between the parentheses in each." the paper thus inscribed seems to have been a wrapper for all of paine's letters. an examination of the ms. at washington does not show any such "parentheses," indicating omissions, whereas that in the british museum has such marks, and has evidently been prepared for the press,--being indeed accompanied by the long title of the french pamphlet. there are other indications that the british museum ms. is the original memorial from which was printed in paris the pamphlet entitled: "mémoire de thomas payne, autographe et signé de sa main: addressé à m. monroe, ministre des États-unis en france, pour réclamer sa mise en liberté comme citoyen américain, sept . robespierre avait fait arrêter th. payne, en --il fut conduit au luxembourg où le glaive fut longtemps suspendu sur sa tête. après onze mois de captivité, il recouvra la liberté, sur la réclamation du ministre américain--c'était après la chute de robespierre--il reprit sa place à la convention, le décembre . ( frimaire an iii.) ce mémoire contient des renseigne mens curieux sur la conduite politique de th. payne en france, pendant la révolution, et à l'époque du procès de louis xvi. ce n'est point, dit il, comme quaker, qu'il ne vota pas la mort du roi mais par un sentiment d'humanité, qui ne tenait point à ses principes religieux. villenave." no date is given, but the pamphlet probably appeared early in . matthieu gillaume thérèse villenave (b. , d. ) was a journalist, and it will be noticed that he, or the translator, modifies paine's answer to marat about his quakerism. there are some loose translations in the cheap french pamphlet, but it is the only publication which has given paine's memorial with any fulness. nearly ten pages of the manuscript were omitted from the memorial when it appeared as an appendix to the pamphlet entitled "letter to george washington, president of the united states of america, on affairs public and private." by thomas paine, author of the works entitled, common sense, rights of man, age of reason, &c. philadelphia: printed by benj. franklin bache, no. market street. . [entered according to law.] this much-abridged copy of the memorial has been followed in all subsequent editions, so that the real document has not hitherto appeared.( ) in appending the memorial to his "letter to washington," paine would naturally omit passages rendered unimportant by his release, but his friend bache may have suppressed others that might have embarrassed american partisans of france, such as the scene at the king's trial. bache's pamphlet reproduces the portrait engraved in villenave, where it is underlined: "peint par ped [peale] à philadelphie, dessiné par f. bonneville, gravé par sandoz." in bache it is: "bolt sc. "; and beneath this the curious inscription: "thomas paine. secretair d. americ: congr: . mitgl: d. fr. nat. convents. ." the portrait is a variant of that now in independence hall, and one of two painted by c. w. peale. the other (in which the chin is supported by the hand) was for religious reasons refused by the boston museum when it purchased the collection of "american heroes" from rembrandt peale. it was bought by john mcdonough, whose brother sold it to mr. joseph jefferson, the eminent actor, and perished when his house was burned at buzzard's bay. mr. jefferson writes me that he meant to give the portrait to the paine memorial society, boston; "but the cruel fire roasted the splendid _infidel_, so i presume the saints are satisfied." this description, however, and a large proportion of the suppressed pages, are historically among the most interesting parts of the memorial, and their restoration renders it necessary to transfer the document from its place as an appendix to that of a preliminary to the "letter to washington." paine's letter to washington burdens his reputation today more, probably, than any other production of his pen. the traditional judgment was formed in the absence of many materials necessary for a just verdict. the editor feels under the necessity of introducing at this point an historical episode; he cannot regard it as fair to the memory of either paine or washington that these two chapters should be printed without a full statement of the circumstances, the most important of which, but recently discovered, were unknown to either of those men. in the editor's "life of thomas paine" (ii., pp. - ) newly discovered facts and documents bearing on the subject are given, which may be referred to by those who desire to investigate critically such statements as may here appear insufficiently supported. considerations of space require that the history in that work should be only summarized here, especially as important new details must be added. paine was imprisoned (december , ) through the hostility of gouverneur morris, the american minister in paris. the fact that the united states, after kindling revolution in france by its example, was then represented in that country by a minister of vehement royalist opinions, and one who literally entered into the service of the king to defeat the republic, has been shown by that minister's own biographers. some light is cast on the events that led to this strange situation by a letter written to m. de mont-morin, minister of foreign affairs, by a french chargé d'affaires, louis otto, dated philadelphia, march, . otto, a nobleman who married into the livingston family, was an astute diplomatist, and enjoyed the intimacy of the secretary of state, jefferson, and of his friends. at the close of a long interview jefferson tells him that "the secresy with which the senate covers its deliberations serves to veil personal interest, which reigns therein in all its strength." otto explains this as referring to the speculative operations of senators, and to the commercial connections some of them have with england, making them unfriendly to french interests. "among the latter the most remarkable is mr. robert morris, of english birth, formerly superintendent of finance, a man of greatest talent, whose mercantile speculations are as unlimited as his ambition. he directs the senate as he once did the american finances in making it keep step with his policy and his business.... about two years ago mr. robert morris sent to france mr. gouverneur morris to negotiate a loan in his name, and for different other personal matters.... during his sojourn in france, mr. rob. morris thought he could make him more useful for his aims by inducing the president of the united states to entrust him with a negotiation with england relative to the commerce of the two countries. m. gouv. morris acquitted himself in this as an adroit man, and with his customary zeal, but despite his address (insinuation) obtained only the vague hope of an advantageous commercial treaty on condition of an _alliance resembling that between france and the united states_.... [mr. robert morris] is himself english, and interested in all the large speculations founded in this country for great britain.... his great services as superintendent of finance during the revolution have assured him the esteem and consideration of general washington, who, however, is far from adopting his views about france. the warmth with which mr. rob. morris opposed in the senate the exemption of french _armateurs_ from tonnage, demanded by his majesty, undoubtedly had for its object to induce the king, by this bad behavior, to break the treaty, in order to facilitate hereafter the negotiations begun with england to form an alliance. as for mr. gouv. morris he is entirely devoted to his correspondent, with whom he has been constantly connected in business and opinion. his great talents are recognized, and his extreme quickness in conceiving new schemes and gaining others to them. he is perhaps the most eloquent and ingenious man of his country, but his countrymen themselves distrust his talents. they admire but fear him." ( ) archives of the state department, paris, États unis., vol. , fol. . the commission given to gouverneur morris by washington, to which otto refers, was in his own handwriting, dated october , , and authorized him "in the capacity of private agent, and in the credit of this letter, to converse with his britannic majesty's ministers on these points, viz. whether there be any, and what objection to performing those articles of the treaty which remained to be performed on his part; and whether they incline to a treaty of commerce on any and what terms. this communication ought regularly to be made to you by the secretary of state; but, that office not being at present filled, my desire of avoiding delays induces me to make it under my own hand."( ) the president could hardly have assumed the authority of secretly appointing a virtual ambassador had there not been a tremendous object in view: this, as he explains in an accompanying letter, was to secure the evacuation by great britain of the frontier posts. this all-absorbing purpose of washington is the key to his administration. gouverneur morris paved the way for jay's treaty, and he was paid for it with the french mission. the senate would not have tolerated his appointment to england, and only by a majority of four could the president secure his confirmation as minister to france (january , ). the president wrote gouverneur morris (january th) a friendly lecture about the objections made to him, chiefly that he favored the aristocracy and was unfriendly to the revolution, and expressed "the fullest confidence" that, supposing the allegations founded, he would "effect a change." but gouverneur morris remained the agent of senator robert morris, and still held washington's mission to england, and he knew only as "conspirators" the rulers who succeeded louis xvi. even while utilizing them, he was an agent of great britain in its war against the country to which he was officially commissioned. ford's "writings of george washington" vol. xi., p. . lafayette wrote to washington ("paris, march , ") the following appeal: "permit me, my dear general, to make an observation for yourself alone, on the recent selection of an american ambassador. personally i am a friend of gouverneur morris, and have always been, in private, quite content with him; but the aristocratic and really contra-revolutionary principles which he has avowed render him little fit to represent the only government resembling ours.... i cannot repress the desire that american and french principles should be in the heart and on the lips of the ambassador of the united states in france." ( ) in addition to this; two successive ministers from france, after the fall of the monarchy, conveyed to the american government the most earnest remonstrances against the continuance of gouverneur morris in their country, one of them reciting the particular offences of which he was guilty. the president's disregard of all these protests and entreaties, unexampled perhaps in history, had the effect of giving gouverneur morris enormous power over the country against which he was intriguing. he was recognized as the irremovable. he represented washington's fixed and unalterable determination, and this at a moment when the main purpose of the revolutionary leaders was to preserve the alliance with america. robespierre at that time ( ) had special charge of diplomatic affairs, and it is shown by the french historian, frédéric masson, that he was very anxious to recover for the republic the initiative of the american alliance credited to the king; and "although their minister, gouverneur morris, was justly suspected, and the american republic was at that time aiming only to utilize the condition of its ally, the french republic cleared it at a cheap rate of its debts contracted with the king."( ) morris adroitly held this doubt, whether the alliance of his government with louis xvi. would be continued to that king's executioners, over the head of the revolutionists, as a suspended sword. under that menace, and with the authentication of being washington's irremovable mouthpiece, this minister had only to speak and it was done. "mémoire», etc., du general lafayette," bruxelles, , tome ii., pp. , . "le département des affaires Étrangères pendant la révolution," p. . meanwhile gouverneur morris was steadily working in france for the aim which he held in common with robert morris, namely to transfer the alliance from france to england. these two nations being at war, it was impossible for france to fulfil all the terms of the alliance; it could not permit english ships alone to seize american provisions on the seas, and it was compelled to prevent american vessels from leaving french ports with cargoes certain of capture by british cruisers. in this way a large number of american captains with their ships were detained in france, to their distress, but to their minister's satisfaction. he did not fail to note and magnify all "infractions" of the treaty, with the hope that they might be the means of annulling it in favor of england, and he did nothing to mitigate sufferings which were counts in his indictment of the treaty. it was at this point that paine came in the american minister's way. he had been on good terms with gouverneur morris, who in (may th) wrote from london to the president: "on the th mr. paine called to tell me that he had conversed on the same subject [impressment of american seamen] with mr. burke, who had asked him if there was any minister, consul, or other agent of the united states who could properly make application to the government: to which he had replied in the negative; but said that i was here, who had been a member of congress, and was therefore the fittest person to step forward. in consequence of what passed thereupon between them he [paine] urged me to take the matter up, which i promised to do. on the th i wrote to the duke of leeds requesting an interview." force's "american state papers, for. rel.," vol. i. at that time ( ) paine was as yet a lion in london, thus able to give morris a lift. he told morris, in that he considered his appointment to france a mistake. this was only on the ground of his anti-republican opinions; he never dreamed of the secret commissions to england. he could not have supposed that the minister who had so promptly presented the case of impressed seamen in england would not equally attend to the distressed captains in france; but these, neglected by their minister, appealed to paine. paine went to see morris, with whom he had an angry interview, during which he asked morris "if he did not feel ashamed to take the money of the country and do nothing for it." paine thus incurred the personal enmity of gouverneur morris. by his next step he endangered this minister's scheme for increasing the friction between france and america; for paine advised the americans to appeal directly to the convention, and introduced them to that body, which at once heeded their application, morris being left out of the matter altogether. this was august d, and morris was very angry. it is probable that the americans in paris felt from that time that paine was in danger, for on september th a memorial, evidently concocted by them, was sent to the french government proposing that they should send commissioners to the united states to forestall the intrigues of england, and that paine should go with them, and set forth their case in the journals, as he "has great influence with the people." this looks like a design to get paine safely out of the country, but it probably sealed his fate. had paine gone to america and reported there morris's treacheries to france and to his own country, and his licentiousness, notorious in paris, which his diary has recently revealed to the world, the career of the minister would have swiftly terminated. gouverneur morris wrote to robert morris that paine was intriguing for his removal, and intimates that he (paine) was ambitious of taking his place in paris. paine's return to america must be prevented. had the american minister not been well known as an enemy of the republic it might have been easy to carry paine from the convention to the guillotine; but under the conditions the case required all of the ingenuity even of a diplomatist so adroit as gouverneur morris. but fate had played into his hand. it so happened that louis otto, whose letter from philadelphia has been quoted, had become chief secretary to the minister of foreign affairs in paris, m. deforgues. this minister and his secretary, apprehending the fate that presently overtook both, were anxious to be appointed to america. no one knew better than otto the commanding influence of gouverneur morris, as washington's "irremovable" representative, both in france and america, and this desire of the two frightened officials to get out of france was confided to him.( ) by hope of his aid, and by this compromising confidence, deforgues came under the power of a giant who used it like a giant. morris at once hinted that paine was fomenting the troubles given by genêt to washington in america, and thus set in motion the procedure by which paine was ultimately lodged in prison. there being no charge against paine in france, and no ill-will felt towards him by robespierre, compliance with the supposed will of washington was in this case difficult. six months before, a law had been passed to imprison aliens of hostile nationality, which could not affect paine, he being a member of the convention and an american. but a decree was passed, evidently to reach paine, "that no foreigner should be admitted to represent the french people"; by this he was excluded from the convention, and the committee of general surety enabled to take the final step of assuming that he was an englishman, and thus under the decree against aliens of hostile nations.( ) letter of gouverneur morris to washington, oct , . sparks's "life of gouverneur morris," vol. ii., p. . although, as i have said, there was no charge against paine in france, and none assigned in any document connected with his arrest, some kind of insinuation had to be made in the convention to cover proceedings against a deputy, and bourdon de l'oise said, "i know that he has intrigued with a former agent of the bureau of foreign affairs." it will be seen by the third addendum to the memorial to monroe that paine supposed this to refer to louis otto, who had been his interpreter in an interview requested by barère, of the committee of public safety. but as otto was then, early in september, , secretary in the foreign office, and barère a fellow-terrorist of bourdon, there could be no accusation based on an interview which, had it been probed, would have put paine's enemies to confusion. it is doubtful, however, if paine was right in his conjecture. the reference of bourdon was probably to the collusion between paine and genêt suggested by morris. paine was thus lodged in prison simply to please washington, to whom it was left to decide whether he had been rightly represented by his minister in the case. when the large number of americans in paris hastened in a body to the convention to demand his release, the president (vadier) extolled paine, but said his birth in england brought him under the measures of safety, and referred them to the committees. there they were told that "their reclamation was only the act of individuals, without any authority from the american government." unfortunately the american petitioners, not understanding by this a reference to the president, unsuspiciously repaired to morris, as also did paine by letter. the minister pretended compliance, thereby preventing their direct appeal to the president. knowing, however, that america would never agree that nativity under the british flag made paine any more than other americans a citizen of england, the american minister came from sain-port, where he resided, to paris, and secured from the obedient deforgues a certificate that he had reclaimed paine as an american citizen, but that he was held as a _french_ citizen. this ingeniously prepared certificate which was sent to the secretary of state (jefferson), and morris's pretended "reclamation," _which was never sent to america_, are translated in my "life of paine," and here given in the original. À paris le février , pluviôse. le minisire plénipotentiaire des États unis de l'amérique près la république française au ministre des affaires Étrangères. monsieur: thomas paine vient de s'adresser à moi pour que je le réclame comme citoyen des États unis. voici (je crois) les faits que le regardent. il est né en angleterre. devenu ensuite citoyen des États unis il s'y est acquise une grande célébrité par des Écrits révolutionnaires. en consequence il fût adopté citoyen français et ensuite élu membre de la convention. sa conduite depuis cette époque n'est pas de mon ressort. j'ignore la cause de sa détention actuelle dans la prison du luxembourg, mais je vous prie monsieur (si des raisons que ne me sont pas connues s'opposent à sa liberation) de vouloir bien m'en instruire pour que je puisse les communiquer au gouvernement des États unis. j'ai l'honneur d'être, monsieur, votre très humble serviteur gouv. morris. paris, i ventôse l'an ad. de la république une et indivisible. le ministre des affaires Étrangères au ministre plénipotentiaire des États unis de v amérique près la république française. par votre lettre du du mois dernier, vous réclamez la liberté de thomas faine, comme citoyen américain. né en angleterre, cet ex-deputé est devenu successivement citoyen américain et citoyen français. en acceptant ce dernier titre et en remplissant une place dans le corps législatif, il est soumis aux lob de la république et il a renoncé de fait à la protection que le droit des gens et les traités conclus avec les États unis auraient pu lui assurer. j'ignore les motifs de sa détention mais je dois présumer qûils bien fondés. je vois néanmoins soumettre au comité de salut public la démande que vous m'avez adressée et je m'empresserai de vous faire connaître sa décision. dir orgubs. ( ) archives of the foreign office, paris, "États unis," vol. xl. translations:--morris: "sir,--thomas paine has just applied to me to claim him as a citizen of the united states. here (i believe) are the facts relating to him. he was born in england. having afterwards become a citizen of the united states, he acquired great celebrity there by his revolutionary writings. in consequence he was adopted a french citizen and then elected member of the convention. his conduct since this epoch is out of my jurisdiction. i am ignorant of the reason for his present detention in the luxembourg prison, but i beg you, sir (if reasons unknown to me prevent his liberation), be so good as to inform me, that i may communicate them to the government of the united states." deporgurs: "by your letter of the th of last month you reclaim the liberty of thomas paine as an american citizen. born in england, this ex-deputy has become successively an american and a french citizen. in accepting this last title, and in occupying a place in the corps législatif he submitted himself to the laws of the republic, and has certainly renounced the protection which the law of nations, and treaties concluded with the united states, could have assured him. i am ignorant of the motives of his detention, but i must presume they are well founded. i shall nevertheless submit to the committee of public safety the demand you have addressed to me, and i shall lose no time in letting you know its decision." it will be seen that deforgues begins his letter with a falsehood: "you reclaim the liberty of paine as an american citizen." morris's letter had declared him a french citizen out of his (the american minister's) "jurisdiction." morris states for deforgues his case, and it is obediently adopted, though quite discordant with the decree, which imprisoned paine as a foreigner. deforgues also makes paine a member of a non-existent body, the "corps législatif," which might suggest in philadelphia previous connection with the defunct assembly. no such inquiries as deforgues promised, nor any, were ever made, and of course none were intended. morris had got from deforgues the certificate he needed to show in philadelphia and to americans in paris. his pretended "reclamation" was of course withheld: no copy of it ever reached america till brought from french archives by the present writer. morris does not appear to have ventured even to keep a copy of it himself. the draft (presumably in english), found among his papers by sparks, alters the fatal sentence which deprived paine of his american citizenship and of protection. "res-sort"--jurisdiction--which has a definite technical meaning in the mouth of a minister, is changed to "cognizance"; the sentence is made to read, "his conduct from that time has not come under my cognizance." (sparks's "life of gouverneur morris," i., p. ). even as it stands in his book, sparks says: "the application, it must be confessed, was neither pressing in its terms, nor cogent in its arguments." the american minister, armed with this french missive, dictated by himself, enclosed it to the secretary of state, whom he supposed to be still jefferson, with a letter stating that he had reclaimed paine as an american, that he (paine) was held to answer for "crimes," and that any further attempt to release him would probably be fatal to the prisoner. by these falsehoods, secured from detection by the profound secrecy of the foreign offices in both countries, morris paralyzed all interference from america, as washington could not of course intervene in behalf of an american charged with "crimes" committed in a foreign country, except to demand his trial. but it was important also to paralyze further action by americans in paris, and to them, too, was shown the french certificate of a reclamation never made. a copy was also sent to paine, who returned to morris an argument which he entreated him to embody in a further appeal to the french minister. this document was of course buried away among the papers of morris, who never again mentioned paine in any communication to the french government, but contented himself with personal slanders of his victim in private letters to washington's friend, robert morris, and no doubt others. i quote sparks's summary of the argument unsuspectingly sent by paine to morris: "he first proves himself to have been an american citizen, a character of which he affirms no subsequent act had deprived him. the title of french citizen was a mere nominal and honorary one, which the convention chose to confer, when they asked him to help them in making a constitution. but let the nature or honor of the title be what it might, the convention had taken it away of their own accord. 'he was excluded from the convention on the motion for excluding _foreigners_. consequently he was no longer under the law of the republic as a _citizen_, but under the protection of the treaty of alliance, as fully and effectually as any other citizen of america. it was therefore the duty of the american minister to demand his release.'" to this sparks adds: "such is the drift of paine's argument, and it would seem indeed that he could not be a foreigner and a citizen at the same time. it was hard that his only privilege of citizenship should be that of imprisonment. but this logic was a little too refined for the revolutionary tribunals of the jacobins in paris, and mr. morris well knew it was not worth while to preach it to them. he did not believe there was any serious design at that time against the life of the prisoner, and he considered his best chance of safety to be in preserving silence for the present. here the matter rested, and paine was left undisturbed till the arrival of mr. monroe, who procured his discharge from confinement." ("life of gouverneur morris," i., p. .)l sparks takes the gracious view of the man whose life he was writing, but the facts now known turn his words to sarcasm. the terror by which paine suffered was that of morris, who warned him and his friends, both in paris and america, that if his case was stirred the knife would fall on him. paine declares (see xx.) that this danger kept him silent till after the fall of robespierre. none knew so well as morris that there were no charges against paine for offences in france, and that robespierre was awaiting that action by washington which he (morris) had rendered impossible. having thus suspended the knife over paine for six months, robespierre interpreted the president's silence, and that of congress, as confirmation of morris's story, and resolved on the execution of paine "in the interests of america as well as of france"; in other words to conciliate washington to the endangered alliance with france. paine escaped the guillotine by the strange accident related in a further chapter. the fall of robespierre did not of course end his imprisonment, for he was not robespierre's but washington's prisoner. morris remained minister in france nearly a month after robespierre's death, but the word needed to open paine's prison was not spoken. after his recall, had monroe been able at once to liberate paine, an investigation must have followed, and morris would probably have taken his prisoner's place in the luxembourg. but morris would not present his letters of recall, and refused to present his successor, thus keeping monroe out of his office four weeks. in this he was aided by bourdon de l'oise (afterwards banished as a royalist conspirator, but now a commissioner to decide on prisoners); also by tools of robespierre who had managed to continue on the committee of public safety by laying their crimes on the dead scapegoat--robespierre. against barère (who had signed paine's death-warrant), billaud-varennes, and colloit d'her-bois, paine, if liberated, would have been a terrible witness. the committee ruled by them had suppressed paine's appeal to the convention, as they presently suppressed monroe's first appeal. paine, knowing that monroe had arrived, but never dreaming that the manoeuvres of morris were keeping him out of office, wrote him from prison the following letters, hitherto unpublished. there is no need to delay the reader here with any argument about paine's unquestionable citizenship, that point having been settled by his release as an american, and the sanction of monroe's action by his government. there was no genuineness in any challenge of paine's citizenship, but a mere desire to do him an injury. in this it had marvellous success. ten years after paine had been reclaimed by monroe, with the sanction of washington, as an american citizen, his vote was refused at new rochelle, new york, by the supervisor, elisha ward, on the ground that washington and morris had refused to declaim him. under his picture of the dead paine, jarvis, the artist, wrote: "a man who devoted his whole life to the attainment of two objects--rights of man, and freedom of conscience--had his vote denied when living, and was denied a grave when dead."--_editor._ august th, . my dear sir: as i believe none of the public papers have announced your name right i am unable to address you by it, but a _new_ minister from america is joy to me and will be so to every american in france. eight months i have been imprisoned, and i know not for what, except that the order says that i am a foreigner. the illness i have suffered in this place (and from which i am but just recovering) had nearly put an end to my existence. my life is but of little value to me in this situation tho' i have borne it with a firmness of patience and fortitude. i enclose you a copy of a letter, (as well the translation as the english)--which i sent to the convention after the fall of the monster robespierre--for i was determined not to write a line during the time of his detestable influence. i sent also a copy to the committee of public safety--but i have not heard any thing respecting it. i have now no expectation of delivery but by your means--_morris has been my inveterate enemy_ and i think he has permitted something of the national character of america to suffer by quietly letting a citizen of that country remain almost eight months in prison without making every official exertion to procure him justice,--for every act of violence offered to a foreigner is offered also to the nation to which he belongs. the gentleman, mr. beresford, who will present you this has been very friendly to me.( ) wishing you happiness in your appointment, i am your affectionate friend and humble servant. august th, . dear sir: in addition to my letter of yesterday (sent to mr. beresford to be conveyed to you but which is delayed on account of his being at st. germain) i send the following memoranda. i was in london at the time i was elected a member of this convention. i was elected a deputé in four different departments without my knowing any thing of the matter, or having the least idea of it. the intention of electing the convention before the time of the former legislature expired, was for the purpose of reforming the constitution or rather for forming a new one. as the former legislature shewed a disposition that i should assist in this business of the new constitution, they prepared the way by voting me a french citoyen (they conferred the same title on general washington and certainly i had no more idea than he had of vacating any part of my real citizenship of america for a nominal one in france, especially at a time when she did not know whether she would be a nation or not, and had it not even in her power to promise me protection). i was elected (the second person in number of votes, the abbé sieves being first) a member for forming the constitution, and every american in paris as well as my other acquaintance knew that it was my intention to return to america as soon as the constitution should be established. the violence of party soon began to shew itself in the convention, but it was impossible for me to see upon what principle they differed--unless it was a contention for power. i acted however as i did in america, i connected myself with no party, but considered myself altogether a national man--but the case with parties generally is that when you are not with one you are supposed to be with the other. a friendly lamp-lighter, alluded to in the letter to washington, conveyed this letter to mr. beresford.-- _editor._ i was taken out of bed between three and four in the morning on the of december last, and brought to the luxembourg--without any other accusation inserted in the order than that i was a foreigner; a motion having been made two days before in the convention to expel foreigners therefrom. i certainly then remained, even upon their own tactics, what i was before, a citizen of america. about three weeks after my imprisonment the americans that were in paris went to the bar of the convention to reclaim me, but contrary to my advice, they made their address into a petition, and it miscarried. i then applied to g. morris, to reclaim me as an official part of his duty, which he found it necessary to do, and here the matter stopt.( ) i have not heard a single line or word from any american since, which is now seven months. i rested altogether on the hope that a new minister would arrive from america. i have escaped with life from more dangers than one. had it not been for the fall of roberspierre and your timely arrival i know not what fate might have yet attended me. there seemed to be a determination to destroy all the prisoners without regard to merit, character, or any thing else. during the time i laid at the height of my illness they took, in one night only, persons out of this prison and executed all but eight. the distress that i have suffered at being obliged to exist in the midst of such horrors, exclusive of my own precarious situation, suspended as it were by the single thread of accident, is greater than it is possible you can conceive--but thank god times are at last changed, and i hope that your authority will release me from this unjust imprisonment. the falsehood told paine, accompanied by an intimation of danger in pursuing the pretended reclamation, was of course meant to stop any farther action by paine or his friends.-- _editor._. august , . my dear sir: having nothing to do but to sit and think, i will write to pass away time, and to say that i am still here. i have received two notes from mr. beresford which are encouraging (as the generality of notes and letters are that arrive to persons here) but they contain nothing explicit or decisive with respect to my liberation, and _i shall be very glad to receive a line from yourself to inform me in what condition the matter stands_. if i only glide out of prison by a sort of accident america gains no credit by my liberation, neither can my attachment to her be increased by such a circumstance. she has had the services of my best days, she has my allegiance, she receives my portion of taxes for my house in borden town and my farm at new rochelle, and she owes me protection both at home and thro' her ministers abroad, yet i remain in prison, in the face of her minister, at the arbitrary will of a committee. excluded as i am from the knowledge of everything and left to a random of ideas, i know not what to think or how to act. before there was any minister here (for i consider morris as none) and while the robespierrian faction lasted, i had nothing to do but to keep my mind tranquil and expect the fate that was every day inflicted upon my comrades, not individually but by scores. many a man whom i have passed an hour with in conversation i have seen marching to his destruction the next hour, or heard of it the next morning; for what rendered the scene more horrible was that they were generally taken away at midnight, so that every man went to bed with the apprehension of never seeing his friends or the world again. i wish to impress upon you that all the changes that have taken place in paris have been sudden. there is now a moment of calm, but if thro' any over complaisance to the persons you converse with on the subject of my liberation, you omit procuring it for me _now_, you may have to lament the fate of your friend when its too late. the loss of a battle to the northward or other possible accident may happen to bring this about. i am not out of danger till i am out of prison. yours affectionately. p. s.--i am now entirely without money. the convention owes me livres salary which i know not how to get while i am here, nor do i know how to draw for money on the rent of my farm in america. it is under the care of my good friend general lewis morris. i have received no rent since i have been in europe. [addressed] minister plenipotentiary from america, maison des Étrangers, rue de la loi, rue richelieu. such was the sufficiently cruel situation when there reached paine in prison, september th, the letter of peter whiteside which caused him to write his memorial. whiteside was a philadelphian whose bankruptcy in london had swallowed up some of paine's means. his letter, reporting to paine that he was not regarded by the american government or people as an american citizen, and that no american minister could interfere in his behalf, was evidently inspired by morris who was still in paris, the authorities being unwilling to give him a passport to switzerland, as they knew he was going in that direction to join the conspirators against france. this whiteside letter put paine, and through him monroe, on a false scent by suggesting that the difficulty of his case lay in a _bona fide_ question of citizenship, whereas there never had been really any such question. the knot by which morris had bound paine was thus concealed, and monroe was appealing to polite wolves in the interest of their victim. there were thus more delays, inexplicable alike to monroe and to paine, eliciting from the latter some heartbroken letters, not hitherto printed, which i add at the end of the memorial. to add to the difficulties and dangers, paris was beginning to be agitated by well-founded rumors of jay's injurious negotiations in england, and a coldness towards monroe was setting in. had paine's release been delayed much longer an american minister's friendship might even have proved fatal. of all this nothing could be known to paine, who suffered agonies he had not known during the reign of terror. the other prisoners of robespierre's time had departed; he alone paced the solitary corridors of the luxembourg, chilled by the autumn winds, his cell tireless, unlit by any candle, insufficiently nourished, an abscess forming in his side; all this still less cruel than the feeling that he was abandoned, not only by washington but by all america. this is the man of whom washington wrote to madison nine years before: "must the merits and services of 'common sense' continue to glide down the stream of time unrewarded by this country?" this, then, is his reward. to his old comrade in the battle-fields of liberty, george washington, paine owed his ten months of imprisonment, at the end of which monroe found him a wreck, and took him (november ) to his own house, where he and his wife nursed him back into life. but it was not for some months supposed that paine could recover; it was only after several relapses; and it was under the shadow of death that he wrote the letter to washington so much and so ignorantly condemned. those who have followed the foregoing narrative will know that paine's grievances were genuine, that his infamous treatment stains american history; but they will also know that they lay chiefly at the door of a treacherous and unscrupulous american minister. yet it is difficult to find an excuse for the retention of that minister in france by washington. on monroe's return to america in , he wrote a pamphlet concerning the mission from which he had been curtly recalled, in which he said: "i was persuaded from mr. morris's known political character and principles, that his appointment, and especially at a period when the french nation was in a course of revolution from an arbitrary to a free government, would tend to discountenance the republican cause there and at home, and otherwise weaken, and greatly to our prejudice, the connexion subsisting between the two countries." in a copy of this pamphlet found at mount vernon, washington wrote on the margin of this sentence: "mr. morris was known to be a man of first rate abilities; and his integrity and honor had never been impeached. besides, mr. morris was sent whilst the kingly government was in existence, ye end of or beginning of ." ( ) but this does not explain why gouverneur morris was persistently kept in france after monarchy was abolished (september , ), or even after lafayette's request for his removal, already quoted. to that letter of lafayette no reply has been discovered. after the monarchy was abolished, ternant and genêt successively carried to america protests from their foreign office against the continuance of a minister in france, who was known in paris, and is now known to all acquainted with his published papers, to have all along made his office the headquarters of british intrigue against france, american interests being quite subordinated. washington did not know this, but he might have known it, and his disregard of french complaints can hardly be ascribed to any other cause than his delusion that morris was deeply occupied with the treaty negotiations confided to him. it must be remembered that washington believed such a treaty with england to be the alternative of war.( ) on that apprehension the british party in america, and british agents, played to the utmost, and under such influences washington sacrificed many old friendships,--with jefferson, madison, monroe, edmund randolph, paine,--and also the confidence of his own state, virginia. washington's marginal notes on monroe's "view, etc.," were first fully given in ford's "writings of washington," vol. xiii., p. , seq. ibid., p. . there is a traditional impression that paine's angry letter to washington was caused by the president's failure to inter-pose for his relief from prison. but paine believed that the american minister (morris) had reclaimed him in some feeble fashion, as an american citizen, and he knew that the president had officially approved monroe's action in securing his release. his grievance was that washington, whose letters of friendship he cherished, who had extolled his services to america, should have manifested no concern personally, made no use of his commanding influence to rescue him from daily impending death, sent to his prison no word of kindness or inquiry, and sent over their mutual friend monroe without any instructions concerning him; and finally, that his private letter, asking explanation, remained unanswered. no doubt this silence of washington concerning the fate of paine, whom he acknowledged to be an american citizen, was mainly due to his fear of offending england, which had proclaimed paine. the "outlaw's" imprisonment in paris caused jubilations among the english gentry, and went on simultaneously with jay's negotiations in london, when any expression by washington of sympathy with paine (certain of publication) might have imperilled the treaty, regarded by the president as vital. so anxious was the president about this, that what he supposed had been done for paine by morris, and what had really been done by monroe, was kept in such profound secrecy, that even his secretary of state, pickering, knew nothing of it. this astounding fact i recently discovered in the manuscripts of that secretary.( ) colonel pickering, while flattering enough to the president in public, despised his intellect, and among his papers is a memorandum concluding as follows: "but when the hazards of the revolutionary war had ended, by the establishment of our independence, why was the knowledge of general washington's comparatively defective mental powers not freely divulged? why, even by the enemies of his civil administration were his abilities very tenderly glanced at? --because there were few, if any men, who did not revere him for his distinguished virtues; his modesty--his unblemished integrity, his pure and disinterested patriotism. these virtues, of infinitely more value than exalted abilities without them, secured to him the veneration and love of his fellow citizens at large. thus immensely popular, no man was willing to publish, under his hand, even the simple truth. the only exception, that i recollect, was the infamous tom paine; and this when in france, after he had escaped the guillotine of robespierre; and in resentment, because, after he had participated in the french revolution, president washington seemed not to have thought him so very important a character in the world, as officially to interpose for his relief from the fangs of the french ephemeral rulers. in a word, no man, however well informed, was willing to hazard his own popularity by exhibiting the real intellectual character of the immensely popular washington." massachusetts historical society, vol. ., p. . how can this ignorance of an astute man, secretary of state under washington and adams, be explained? had washington hidden the letters showing on their face that he _had_ "officially interposed" for paine by two ministers? madison, writing to monroe, april , , says that pickering had spoken to him "in harsh terms" of a letter written by paine to the president. this was a private letter of september , , afterwards printed in paine's public letter to washington. the secretary certainly read that letter on its arrival, january , , and yet washington does not appear to have told him of what had been officially done in paine's case! such being the secrecy which washington had carried from the camp to the cabinet, and the morbid extent of it while the british treaty was in negotiation and discussion, one can hardly wonder at his silence under paine's private appeal and public reproach. much as pickering hated paine, he declares him the only man who ever told the simple truth about washington. in the lapse of time historical research, while removing the sacred halo of washington, has revealed beneath it a stronger brain than was then known to any one. paine published what many whispered, while they were fawning on washington for office, or utilizing his power for partisan ends. washington, during his second administration, when his mental decline was remarked by himself, by jefferson, and others, was regarded by many of his eminent contemporaries as fallen under the sway of small partisans. not only was the influence of jefferson, madison, randolph, monroe, livingston, alienated, but the counsels of hamilton were neutralized by wolcott and pickering, who apparently agreed about the president's "mental powers." had not paine previously incurred the _odium theologicum_, his pamphlet concerning washington would have been more damaging; even as it was, the verdict was by no means generally favorable to the president, especially as the replies to paine assumed that washington had indeed failed to try and rescue him from impending death.( ) a pamphlet written by bache, printed anonymously ( ), remarks occasioned by the late conduct of mr. washington, indicates the belief of those who raised washington to power, that both randolph and paine had been sacrificed to please great britain. the _bien-informé_ (paris, november , ) published a letter from philadelphia, which may find translation here as part of the history of the pamphlet: "the letter of thomas paine to general washington is read here with avidity. we gather from the english papers that the cabinet of st james has been unable to stop the circulation of that pamphlet in england, since it is allowable to reprint there any english work already published elsewhere, however disagreeable to messrs. pitt and dundas. we read in the letter to washington that robespierre had declared to the committee of public safety that it was desirable in the interests of both france and america that thomas paine, who, for seven or eight months had been kept a prisoner in the luxembourg, should forthwith be brought up for judgment before the revolutionary tribunal. the proof of this fact is found in robespierre's papers, and gives ground for strange suspicions." the principal ones were "a letter to thomas paine. by an american citizen. new york, ," and "a letter to the infamous tom paine, in answer to his letter to general washington. december . by peter porcupine" (cobbett). writing to david stuart, january , , washington, speaking of himself in the third person, says: "although he is soon to become a private citizen, his opinions are to be knocked down, and his character traduced as low as they are capable of sinking it, even by resorting to absolute falsehoods. as an evidence whereof, and of the plan they are pursuing, i send you a letter of mr. paine to me, printed in this city and disseminated with great industry. enclosed you will receive also a production of peter porcupine, alias william cobbett. making allowances for the asperity of an englishman, for some of his strong and coarse expressions, and a want of official information as to many facts, it is not a bad thing." the "many facts" were, of course, the action of monroe, and the supposed action of morris in paris, but not even to one so intimate as stuart are these disclosed. "it was long believed that paine had returned to america with his friend james monroe, and the lovers of freedom [there] congratulated themselves on being able to embrace that illustrious champion of the rights of man. their hopes have been frustrated. we know positively that thomas paine is still living in france. the partizans of the late presidency [in america] also know it well, yet they have spread a rumor that after actually arriving he found his (really popular) _principles no longer the order of the day_, and thought best to re-embark. "the english journals, while repeating this idle rumor, observed that it was unfounded, and that paine had not left france. some french journals have copied these london paragraphs, but without comments; so that at the very moment when thomas paine's letter on the th. fructidor is published, _la clef du cabinet_ says that this citizen is suffering unpleasantness in america." paine had intended to return with monroe, in the spring of , but, suspecting the captain and a british cruiser in the distance, returned from havre to paris. the packet was indeed searched by the cruiser for paine, and, had he been captured, england would have executed the sentence pronounced by robespierre to please washington. memorial addressed to james monroe, minister from the united states of america to the french republic. prison of the luxembourg, sept. th, . i address this memorial to you, in consequence of a letter i received from a friend, fructidor (september th,) in which he says, "mr. monroe has told me, that he has no orders [meaning from the american government] respecting you; but i am sure he will leave nothing undone to liberate you; but, from what i can learn, from all the late americans, you are not considered either by the government, or by the individuals, as an american citizen. you have been made a french citizen, which you have accepted, and you have further made yourself a servant of the french republic; and, therefore, it would be out of character for an american minister to interfere in their internal concerns. you must therefore either be liberated out of compliment to america, or stand your trial, which you have a right to demand." this information was so unexpected by me, that i am at a loss how to answer it. i know not on what principle it originates; whether from an idea that i had voluntarily abandoned my citizenship of america for that of france, or from any article of the american constitution applied to me. the first is untrue with respect to any intention on my part; and the second is without foundation, as i shall shew in the course of this memorial. the idea of conferring honor of citizenship upon foreigners, who had distinguished themselves in propagating the principles of liberty and humanity, in opposition to despotism, war, and bloodshed, was first proposed by me to la fayette, at the commencement of the french revolution, when his heart appeared to be warmed with those principles. my motive in making this proposal, was to render the people of different nations more fraternal than they had been, or then were. i observed that almost every branch of science had possessed itself of the exercise of this right, so far as it regarded its own institution. most of the academies and societies in europe, and also those of america, conferred the rank of honorary member, upon foreigners eminent in knowledge, and made them, in fact, citizens of their literary or scientific republic, without affecting or anyways diminishing their rights of citizenship in their own country or in other societies: and why the science of government should not have the same advantage, or why the people of one nation should not, by their representatives, exercise the right of conferring the honor of citizenship upon individuals eminent in another nation, without affecting _their_ rights of citizenship, is a problem yet to be solved. i now proceed to remark on that part of the letter, in which the writer says, that, _from what he can learn from all the late americans, i am not considered in america, either by the government or by the individuals, as an american citizen_. in the first place i wish to ask, what is here meant by the government of america? the members who compose the government are only individuals, when in conversation, and who, most probably, hold very different opinions upon the subject. have congress as a body made any declaration respecting me, that they now no longer consider me as a citizen? if they have not, anything they otherwise say is no more than the opinion of individuals, and consequently is not legal authority, nor anyways sufficient authority to deprive any man of his citizenship. besides, whether a man has forfeited his rights of citizenship, is a question not determinable by congress, but by a court of judicature and a jury; and must depend upon evidence, and the application of some law or article of the constitution to the case. no such proceeding has yet been had, and consequently i remain a citizen until it be had, be that decision what it may; for there can be no such thing as a suspension of rights in the interim. i am very well aware, and always was, of the article of the constitution which says, as nearly as i can recollect the words, that "any citizen of the united states, who shall accept any title, place, or office, from any foreign king, prince, or state, shall forfeit and lose his right of citizenship of the united states." had the article said, that _any citizen of the united states, who shall be a member of any foreign convention, for the purpose of forming a free constitution, shall forfeit and lose the right of citizenship of the united states_, the article had been directly applicable to me; but the idea of such an article never could have entered the mind of the american convention, and the present article _is_ altogether foreign to the case with respect to me. it supposes a government in active existence, and not a government dissolved; and it supposes a citizen of america accepting titles and offices under that government, and not a citizen of america who gives his assistance in a convention chosen by the people, for the purpose of forming a government _de nouveau_ founded on their authority. the late constitution and government of france was dissolved the th of august, . the national legislative assembly then in being, supposed itself without sufficient authority to continue its sittings, and it proposed to the departments to elect not another legislative assembly, but a convention for the express purpose of forming a new constitution. when the assembly were discoursing on this matter, some of the members said, that they wished to gain all the assistance possible upon the subject of free constitutions; and expressed a wish to elect and invite foreigners of any nation to the convention, who had distinguished themselves in defending, explaining, and propagating the principles of liberty. it was on this occasion that my name was mentioned in the assembly. (i was then in england.) in the american pamphlet a footnote, probably added by bache, here says: "even this article does not exist in the manner here stated." it is a pity paine did not have in his prison the article, which says: "no person holding any office of profit or trust under them [the united states] shall, without the consent of congress, accept of any present, emolument, office, or title of any kind whatever, from any king, prince, or foreign state."--_editor._ after this, a deputation from a body of the french people, in order to remove any objection that might be made against my assisting at the proposed convention, requested the assembly, as their representatives, to give me the title of french citizen; after which, i was elected a member of the convention, in four different departments, as is already known.( ) the case, therefore, is, that i accepted nothing from any king, prince, or state, nor from any government: for france was without any government, except what arose from common consent, and the necessity of the case. neither did i _make myself a servant of the french republic_, as the letter alluded to expresses; for at that time france was not a republic, not even in name. she was altogether a people in a state of revolution. it was not until the convention met that france was declared a republic, and monarchy abolished; soon after which a committee was elected, of which i was a member,( ) to form a constitution, which was presented to the convention [and read by condorcet, who was also a member] the th and th of february following, but was not to be taken into consideration till after the expiration of two months,( ) and if approved of by the convention, was then to be referred to the people for their acceptance, with such additions or amendments as the convention should make. the deputation referred to was described as the "commission extraordinaire," in whose name m. guadet moved that the title of french citizen be conferred on priestley, paine, bentham, wilberforce, clarkson, mackintosh, david williams, cormelle, paw, pestalozzi, washington, madison, hamilton, klopstock, koscinsko, gorani, campe, anacharsis clootz, gilleers. this was on august , and paine was elected by calais on september , ; and in the same week by oise, somme, and puy-de-dome.--_editor._ sieves, paine, brissot, pétion, vergniaud, gensonne, barère, danton, condorcet.--_editor._ the remainder of this sentence is replaced in the american pamphlet by the following: "the disorders and the revolutionary government that took place after this put a stop to any further progress upon the case."--_editor._ in thus employing myself upon the formation of a constitution, i certainly did nothing inconsistent with the american constitution. i took no oath of allegiance to france, or any other oath whatever. i considered the citizenship they had presented me with as an honorary mark of respect paid to me not only as a friend to liberty, but as an american citizen. my acceptance of that, or of the deputyship, not conferred on me by any king, prince, or state, but by a people in a state of revolution and contending for liberty, required no transfer of my allegiance or of my citizenship from america to france. there i was a real citizen, paying taxes; here, i was a voluntary friend, employing myself on a temporary service. every american in paris knew that it was my constant intention to return to america, as soon as a constitution should be established, and that i anxiously waited for that event. i know not what opinions have been circulated in america. it may have been supposed there that i had voluntarily and intentionally abandoned america, and that my citizenship had ceased by my own choice. i can easily [believe] there are those in that country who would take such a proceeding on my part somewhat in disgust. the idea of forsaking old friendships for new acquaintances is not agreeable. i am a little warranted in making this supposition by a letter i received some time ago from the wife of one of the georgia delegates in which she says "your friends on this side the water cannot be reconciled to the idea of your abandoning america." i have never abandoned her in thought, word or deed; and i feel it incumbent upon me to give this assurance to the friends i have in that country and with whom i have always intended and am determined, if the possibility exists, to close the scene of my life. it is there that i have made myself a home. it is there that i have given the services of my best days. america never saw me flinch from her cause in the most gloomy and perilous of her situations; and i know there are those in that country who will not flinch from me. if i have enemies (and every man has some) i leave them to the enjoyment of their ingratitude.* * i subjoin in a note, for the sake of wasting the solitude of a prison, the answer that i gave to the part of the letter above mentioned. it is not inapplacable to the subject of this memorial; but it contain! somewhat of a melancholy idea, a little predictive, that i hope is not becoming true so soon. it is somewhat extraordinary that the idea of my not being a citizen of america should have arisen only at the time that i am imprisoned in france because, or on the pretence that, i am a foreigner. the case involves a strange contradiction of ideas. none of the americans who came to france whilst i was in liberty had conceived any such idea or circulated any such opinion; and why it should arise now is a matter yet to be explained. however discordant the late american minister g. m. [gouverneur morris] and the late french committee of public safety were, it suited the purpose of both that i should be continued in arrestation. the former wished to prevent my return to america, that i should not expose his misconduct; and the latter, lest i should publish to the world the history of its wickedness. whilst that minister and the committee continued i had no expectation of liberty. i speak here of the committee of which robespierre was member.( ) "you touch me on a very tender point when you say that my friends on your side the water cannot be reconciled to the idea of my abandoning america. they are right. i had rather see my horse button eating the grass of borden-town or morrisania than see all the pomp and show of europe. "a thousand years hence (for i must indulge a few thoughts) perhaps in less, america may be what europe now is. the innocence of her character, that won the hearts of all nations in her favour, may sound like a romance and her inimitable virtue as if it had never been. the ruin of that liberty which thousands bled for or struggled to obtain may just furnish materials for a village tale or extort a sigh from rustic sensibility, whilst the fashionable of that day, enveloped in dissipation, shall deride the principle and deny the fact. "when we contemplate the fall of empires and the extinction of the nations of the ancient world, we see but little to excite our regret than the mouldering ruins of pompous palaces, magnificent museums, lofty pyramids and walls and towers of the most costly workmanship; but when the empire of america shall fall, the subject for contemplative sorrow will be infinitely greater than crumbling brass and marble can inspire. it will not then be said, here stood a temple of vast antiquity; here rose a babel of invisible height; or there a palace of sumptuous extravagance; but here, ah, painful thought! the noblest work of human wisdom, the grandest scene of human glory, the fair cause of freedom rose and fell. read this, and then ask if i forget america."--author. this letter, quoted also in paine's letter to washington, was written from london, jan. , , to the wife of col. few, née kate nicholson. it is given in full in my "life of paine," i., p. .--_editor._ the memorial to monroe. i ever must deny, that the article of the american constitution already mentioned, can be applied either verbally, intentionally, or constructively, to me. it undoubtedly was the intention of the convention that framed it, to preserve the purity of the american republic from being debased by foreign and foppish customs; but it never could be its intention to act against the principles of liberty, by forbidding its citizens to assist in promoting those principles in foreign countries; neither could it be its intention to act against the principles of gratitude.( ) france had aided america in the establishment of her revolution, when invaded and oppressed by england and her auxiliaries. france in her turn was invaded and oppressed by a combination of foreign despots. in this situation, i conceived it an act of gratitude in me, as a citizen of america, to render her in return the best services i could perform. i came to france (for i was in england when i received the invitation) not to enjoy ease, emoluments, and foppish honours, as the article supposes; but to encounter difficulties and dangers in defence of liberty; and i much question whether those who now malignantly seek (for some i believe do) to turn this to my injury, would have had courage to have done the same thing. i am sure gouverneur morris would not. he told me the second day after my arrival, (in paris,) that the austrians and prussians, who were then at verdun, would be in paris in a fortnight. i have no idea, said he, that seventy thousand disciplined troops can be stopped in their march by any power in france. this and the two preceding paragraphs, including the footnote, are entirely omitted from the american pamphlet. it will be seen that paine had now a suspicion of the conspiracy between gouverneur morris and those by whom he was imprisoned. soon after his imprisonment he had applied to morris, who replied that he had reclaimed him, and enclosed the letter of deforgues quoted in my introduction to this chapter, of course withholding his own letter to the minister. paine answered (feb. , ): "you must not leave me in the situation in which this letter places me. you know i do not deserve it, and you see the unpleasant situation in which i am thrown. i have made an answer to the minister's letter, which i wish you to make ground of a reply to him. they have nothing against me--except that they do not choose i should lie in a state of freedom to write my mind freely upon things i have seen. though you and i are not on terms of the best harmony, i apply to you as the minister of america, and you may add to that service whatever you think my integrity deserves. at any rate i expect you to make congress acquainted with my situation, and to send them copies of the letters that have passed on the subject. a reply to the minister's letter is absolutely necessary, were it only to continue the reclamation. otherwise your silence will be a sort of consent to his observations." deforgues' "observations" having been dictated by morris himself, no reply was sent to him, and no word to congress.--_editor_. in the pamphlet this last clause of the sentence is omitted.--_editor._. besides the reasons i have already given for accepting the invitations to the convention, i had another that has reference particularly to america, and which i mentioned to mr. pinckney the night before i left london to come to paris: "that it was to the interest of america that the system of european governments should be changed and placed on the same principle with her own." mr. pinckney agreed fully in the same opinion. i have done my part towards it.( ) it is certain that governments upon similar systems agree better together than those that are founded on principles discordant with each other; and the same rule holds good with respect to the people living under them. in the latter case they offend each other by pity, or by reproach; and the discordancy carries itself to matters of commerce. i am not an ambitious man, but perhaps i have been an ambitious american. i have wished to see america the _mother church_ of government, and i have done my utmost to exalt her character and her condition. in the american pamphlet the name of pinckney (american minister in england) is left blank in this paragraph, and the two concluding sentences are omitted from both the french and american pamphlets.--_editor._, i have now stated sufficient matter, to shew that the article in question is not applicable to me; and that any such application to my injury, as well in circumstances as in rights, is contrary both to the letter and intention of that article, and is illegal and unconstitutional. neither do i believe that any jury in america, when they are informed of the whole of the case, would give a verdict to deprive me of my rights upon that article. the citizens of america, i believe, are not very fond of permitting forced and indirect explanations to be put upon matters of this kind. i know not what were the merits of the case with respect to the person who was prosecuted for acting as prize master to a french privateer, but i know that the jury gave a verdict against the prosecution. the rights i have acquired are dear to me. they have been acquired by honourable means, and by dangerous service in the worst of times, and i cannot passively permit them to be wrested from me. i conceive it my duty to defend them, as the case involves a constitutional and public question, which is, how far the power of the federal government ( ) extends, in depriving any citizen of his rights of citizenship, or of suspending them. that the explanation of national treaties belongs to congress is strictly constitutional; but not the explanation of the constitution itself, any more than the explanation of law in the case of individual citizens. these are altogether judiciary questions. it is, however, worth observing, that congress, in explaining the article of the treaty with respect to french prizes and french privateers, confined itself strictly to the letter of the article. let them explain the article of the constitution with respect to me in the same manner, and the decision, did it appertain to them, could not deprive me of my rights of citizenship, or suspend them, for i have accepted nothing from any king, prince, state, or government. you will please to observe, that i speak as if the federal government had made some declaration upon the subject of my citizenship; whereas the fact is otherwise; and your saying that you have no order respecting me is a proof of it. those therefore who propagate the report of my not being considered as a citizen of america by government, do it to the prolongation of my imprisonment, and without authority; for congress, _as a government_, has neither decided upon it, nor yet taken the matter into consideration; and i request you to caution such persons against spreading such reports. but be these matters as they may, i cannot have a doubt that you find and feel the case very different, since you have heard what i have to say, and known what my situation is [better] than you did before your arrival. in the pamphlet occurs here a significant parenthesis by bache: "it should have been said in this case, how far the executive."--_editor._. but it was not the americans only, but the convention also, that knew what my intentions were upon that subject. in my last discourse delivered at the tribune of the convention, january , , on the motion for suspending the execution of louis th, i said (the deputy bancal read the translation in french): "it unfortunately happens that the person who is the subject of the present discussion, is considered by the americans as having been the friend of their revolution. his execution will be an affliction to them, and it is in your power not to wound the feelings of your ally. could i speak the french language i would descend to your bar, and in their name become your petitioner to respite the execution of the sentence/"--"as the convention was elected for the express purpose of forming a constitution, its continuance cannot be longer than four or five months more at furthest; and if, after my _return to america_, i should employ myself in writing the history of the french revolution, i had rather record a thousand errors on the side of mercy, than be obliged to tell one act of severe justice."--"ah citizens! give not the tyrant of england the triumph of seeing the man perish on a scaffold who had aided my much-loved america." does this look as if i had abandoned america? but if she abandons me in the situation i am in, to gratify the enemies of humanity, let that disgrace be to herself. but i know the people of america better than to believe it,( ) tho' i undertake not to answer for every individual. when this discourse was pronounced, marat launched himself into the middle of the hall and said that "i voted against the punishment of death because i was a quaker." i replied that "i voted against it both morally and politically." in the french pamphlet: "pour jamais lui prêter du tels sentiments." i certainly went a great way, considering the rage of the times, in endeavouring to prevent that execution. i had many reasons for so doing. i judged, and events have shewn that i judged rightly, that if they once began shedding blood, there was no knowing where it would end; and as to what the world might call _honour_ the execution would appear like a nation killing a mouse; and in a political view, would serve to transfer the hereditary claim to some more formidable enemy. the man could do no more mischief; and that which he had done was not only from the vice of his education, but was as much the fault of the nation in restoring him after he had absconded june st, , as it was his. i made the proposal for imprisonment until the end of the war and perpetual banishment after the war, instead of the punishment of death. upwards of three hundred members voted for that proposal. the sentence for absolute death (for some members had voted the punishment of death conditionally) was carried by a majority of twenty-five out of more than seven hundred. i return from this digression to the proper subject of my memorial.( ) this and the preceding five paragraphs, and five following the nest, are omitted from the american pamphlet.-- _editor._. painful as the want of liberty may be, it is a consolation to me to believe, that my imprisonment proves to the world, that i had no share in the murderous system that then reigned. that i was an enemy to it, both morally and politically, is known to all who had any knowledge of me; and could i have written french as well as i can english, i would publicly have exposed its wickedness and shewn the ruin with which it was pregnant. they who have esteemed me on former occasions, whether in america or in europe will, i know, feel no cause to abate that esteem, when they reflect, that _imprisonment with preservation of character is preferable to liberty with disgrace_. i here close my memorial and proceed to offer you a proposal that appears to me suited to all the circumstances of the case; which is, that you reclaim me conditionally, until the opinion of congress can be obtained on the subject of my citizenship of america; and that i remain in liberty under your protection during that time. i found this proposal upon the following grounds. first, you say you have no orders respecting me; consequently, you have no orders _not_ to reclaim me; and in this case you are left discretionary judge whether to reclaim or not. my proposal therefore unites a consideration of your situation with my own. secondly, i am put in arrestation because i am a foreigner. it is therefore necessary to determine to what country i belong. the right of determining this question cannot appertain exclusively to the committee of public safety or general surety; because i appeal to the minister of the united states, and show that my citizenship of that country is good and valid, referring at the same time, thro' the agency of the minister, my claim of right to the opinion of congress. it being a matter between two governments. thirdly. france does not claim me fora citizen; neither do i set up any claim of citizenship in france. the question is simply, whether i am or am not a citizen of america. i am imprisoned here on the decree for imprisoning foreigners, because, say they, i was born in england. i say in answer that, though born in england, i am not a subject of the english government any more than any other american who was born, as they all were, under the same government, or than the citizens of france are subjects of the french monarchy under which they were born. i have twice taken the oath of abjuration to the british king and government and of allegiance to america,--once as a citizen of the state of pennsylvania in , and again before congress, administered to me by the president, mr. hancock, when i was appointed secretary in the office of foreign affairs in . the letter before quoted in the first page of this memorial, says, "it would be out of character for an american minister to interfere in the internal affairs of france." this goes on the idea that i am a citizen of france, and a member of the convention, which is not the fact. the convention have declared me to be a foreigner; and consequently the citizenship and the election are null and void.( ) it also has the appearance of a decision, that the article of the constitution, respecting grants made to american citizens by foreign kings, princes, or states, is applicable to me; which is the very point in question, and against the application of which i contend. i state evidence to the minister, to shew that i am not within the letter or meaning of that article; that it cannot operate against me; and i apply to him for the protection that i conceive i have a right to ask and to receive. the internal affairs of france are out of the question with respect to my application or his interference. i ask it not as a citizen of france, for i am not one: i ask it not as a member of the convention, for i am not one; both these, as before said, have been rendered null and void; i ask it not as a man against whom there is any accusation, for there is none; i ask it not as an exile from america, whose liberties i have honourably and generously contributed to establish; i ask it as a citizen of america, deprived of his liberty in france, under the plea of being a foreigner; and i ask it because i conceive i am entitled to it, upon every principle of constitutional justice and national honour.( ) in the pamphlet: "the convention included me in the vote for dismissing foreigners from the convention, and the committees imprisoned me as a foreigner."--_editor._ all previous editions of the pamphlet end with this word.--_editor._ but tho' i thus positively assert my claim because i believe i have a right to do so, it is perhaps most eligible, in the present situation of things, to put that claim upon the footing i have already mentioned; that is, that the minister reclaims me conditionally until the opinion of congress can be obtained on the subject of my citizenship of america, and that i remain in liberty under the protection of the minister during that interval. n. b. i should have added that as gouverneur morris could not inform congress of the cause of my arrestation, as he knew it not himself, it is to be supposed that congress was not enough acquainted with the case to give any directions respecting me when you came away. t.p. addenda. letters, hitherto unpublished, written by paine to monroe before his release on november ., . . luxembourg mem vendemaire, old style oct th dear sir: i thank you for your very friendly and affectionate letter of the th september which i did not receive till this morning.( ) it has relieved my mind from a load of disquietude. you will easily suppose that if the information i received had been exact, my situation was without hope. i had in that case neither section, department nor country, to reclaim me; but that is not all, i felt a poignancy of grief, in having the least reason to suppose that america had so soon forgotten me who had never forgotten her. mr. labonadaire, in a note of yesterday, directed me to write to the convention. as i suppose this measure has been taken in concert with you, i have requested him to shew you the letter, of which he will make a translation to accompany the original. (i cannot see what motive can induce them to keep me in prison. it will gratify the english government and afflict the friends i have in america. the supporters of the system of terror might apprehend that if i was in liberty and in america i should publish the history of their crimes, but the present persons who have overset that immoral system ought to have no such apprehension. on the contrary, they ought to consider me as one of themselves, at least as one of their friends. had i been an insignificant character i had not been in arrestation. it was the literary and philosophical reputation i had gained, in the world, that made them my enemies; and i am the victim of the principles, and if i may be permitted to say it, of the talents, that procured me the esteem of america. my character is the _secret_ of my arrestation.) printed in the letter to washington, chap. xxii. the delay of sixteen days in monroe's letter was probably due to the manouvres of paine's enemies on the committee of public safety. he was released only after their removal from the committee, and the departure of gouverneur morris.-- _editor._, if the letter i have written be not covered by other authority than my own it will have no effect, for they already know all that i can say. on what ground do they pretend to deprive america of the service of any of her citizens without assigning a cause, or only the flimsy one of my being born in england? gates, were he here, might be arrested on the same pretence, and he and burgoyne be confounded together. it is difficult for me to give an opinion, but among other things that occur to me, i think that if you were to say that, as it will be necessary to you to inform the government of america of my situation, you require an explanation with the committee upon that subject; that you are induced to make this proposal not only out of esteem for the character of the person who is the personal object of it, but because you know that his arrestation will distress the americans, and the more so as it will appear to them to be contrary to their ideas of civil and national justice, it might perhaps have some effect. if the committee [of public safety] will do nothing, it will be necessary to bring this matter openly before the convention, for i do most sincerely assure you, from the observations that i hear, and i suppose the same are made in other places, that the character of america lies under some reproach. all the world knows that i have served her, and they see that i am still in prison; and you know that when people can form a conclusion upon a simple fact, they trouble not themselves about reasons. i had rather that america cleared herself of all suspicion of ingratitude, though i were to be the victim. you advise me to have patience, but i am fully persuaded that the longer i continue in prison the more difficult will be my liberation. there are two reasons for this: the one is that the present committee, by continuing so long my imprisonment, will naturally suppose that my mind will be soured against them, as it was against those who put me in, and they will continue my imprisonment from the same apprehensions as the former committee did; the other reason is, that it is now about two months since your arrival, and i am still in prison. they will explain this into an indifference upon my fate that will encourage them to continue my imprisonment. when i hear some people say that it is the government of america that now keeps me in prison by not reclaiming me, and then pour forth a volley of execrations against her, i know not how to answer them otherwise than by a direct denial which they do not appear to believe. you will easily conclude that whatever relates to imprisonments and liberations makes a topic of prison conversation; and as i am now the oldest inhabitant within these walls, except two or three, i am often the subject of their remarks, because from the continuance of my imprisonment they auger ill to themselves. you see i write you every thing that occurs to me, and i conclude with thanking you again for your very friendly and affectionate letter, and am with great respect, your's affectionately, thomas paine. (to day is the anniversary of the action at german town. [october , .] your letter has enabled me to contradict the observations before mentioned.) . oct , dear sir: on the th of this month (october) i shall have suffered ten months imprisonment, to the dishonour of america as well as of myself, and i speak to you very honestly when i say that my patience is exhausted. it is only my actual liberation that can make me believe it. had any person told me that i should remain in prison two months after the arrival of a new minister, i should have supposed that he meant to affront me as an american. by the friendship and sympathy you express in your letter you seem to consider my imprisonment as having connection only with myself, but i am certain that the inferences that follow from it have relation also to the national character of america, i already feel this in myself, for i no longer speak with pride of being a citizen of that country. is it possible sir that i should, when i am suffering unjust imprisonment under the very eye of her new minister? while there was no minister here (for i consider morris as none) nobody wondered at my imprisonment, but now everybody wonders. the continuance of it under a change of diplomatic circumstances, subjects me to the suspicion of having merited it, and also to the suspicion of having forfeited my reputation with america; and it subjects her at the same time to the suspicion of ingratitude, or to the reproach of wanting national or diplomatic importance. the language that some americans have held of my not being considered as an american citizen, tho' contradicted by yourself, proceeds, i believe, from no other motive, than the shame and dishonour they feel at the imprisonment of a fellow-citizen, and they adopt this apology, at my expence, to get rid of that disgrace. is it not enough that i suffer imprisonment, but my mind also must be wounded and tortured with subjects of this kind? did i reason from personal considerations only, independent of principles and the pride of having practiced those principles honourably, i should be tempted to curse the day i knew america. by contributing to her liberty i have lost my own, and yet her government beholds my situation in silence. wonder not, sir, at the ideas i express or the language in which i express them. if i have a heart to feel for others i can feel also for myself, and if i have anxiety for my own honour, i have it also for a country whose suffering infancy i endeavoured to nourish and to which i have been enthusiastically attached. as to patience i have practiced it long--as long as it was honorable to do so, and when it goes beyond that point it becomes meanness. i am inclined to believe that you have attended to my imprisonment more as a friend than as a minister. as a friend i thank you for your affectionate attachment. as a minister you have to look beyond me to the honour and reputation of your government; and your countrymen, who have accustomed themselves to consider any subject in one line of thinking only, more especially if it makes a strong [impression] upon them, as i believe my situation has made upon you, do not immediately see the matters that have relation to it in another line; and it is to bring these two into one point that i offer you these observations. a citizen and his country, in a case like mine, are so closely connected that the case of one is the case of both. when you first arrived the path you had to pursue with respect to my liberation was simple. i was imprisoned as a foreigner; you knew that foreigner to be a citizen of america, and you knew also his character, and as such you should immediately have reclaimed him. you could lose nothing by taking strong ground, but you might lose much by taking an inferior one; but instead of this, which i conceive would have been the right line of acting, you left me in their hands on the loose intimation that my liberation would take place without your direct interference, and you strongly recommended it to me to wait the issue. this is more than seven weeks ago and i am still in prison. i suspect these people are trifling with you, and if they once believe they can do that, you will not easily get any business done except what they wish to have done. when i take a review of my whole situation--my circumstances ruined, my health half destroyed, my person imprisoned, and the prospect of imprisonment still staring me in the face, can you wonder at the agony of my feelings? you lie down in safety and rise to plenty; it is otherwise with me; i am deprived of more than half the common necessaries of life; i have not a candle to burn and cannot get one. fuel can be procured only in small quantities and that with great difficulty and very dear, and to add to the rest, i am fallen into a relapse and am again on the sick list. did you feel the whole force of what i suffer, and the disgrace put upon america by this injustice done to one of her best and most affectionate citizens, you would not, either as a friend or minister, rest a day till you had procured my liberation. it is the work of two or three hours when you set heartily about it, that is, when you demand me as an american citizen, or propose a conference with the committee upon that subject; or you may make it the work of a twelve-month and not succeed. i know these people better than you do. you desire me to believe that "you are placed here on a difficult theatre with many important objects to attend to, and with but few to consult with, and that it becomes you in pursuit of these to regulate your conduct with respect to each, as to manner and time, as will in your judgment be best calculated to accomplish the whole." as i know not what these objects are i can say nothing to that point. but i have always been taught to believe that the liberty of a citizen was the first object of all free governments, and that it ought not to give preference to, or be blended with, any other. it is that public object that all the world can see, and which obtains an influence upon public opinion more than any other. this is not the case with the objects you allude to. but be those objects what they may, can you suppose you will accomplish them the easier by holding me in the back-ground, or making me only an accident in the negotiation? those with whom you confer will conclude from thence that you do not feel yourself very strong upon those points, and that you politically keep me out of sight in the meantime to make your approach the easier. there is one part in your letter that is equally as proper should be communicated to the committee as to me, and which i conceive you are under some diplomatic obligation to do. it is that part which you conclude by saying that "_to the welfare of thomas paine the americans are not and cannot be indifferent_." as it is impossible the americans can preserve their esteem for me and for my oppressors at the same time, the injustice to me strikes at the popular part of the treaty of alliance. if it be the wish of the committee to reduce the treaty to a mere skeleton of government forms, they are taking the right method to do it, and it is not improbable they will blame you afterwards for not in-forming them upon the subject. the disposition to retort has been so notorious here, that you ought to be guarded against it at all points. you say in your letter that you doubt whether the gentleman who informed me of the language held by some americans respecting my citizenship of america conveyed even his own ideas clearly upon the subject.( ) i know not how this may be, but i believe he told me the truth. i received a letter a few days ago from a friend and former comrade of mine in which he tells me, that all the americans he converses with, say, that i should have been in liberty long ago if the minister could have reclaimed me as an american citizen. when i compare this with the counter-declarations in your letter i can explain the case no otherwise than i have already done, that it is an apology to get rid of the shame and dishonour they feel at the imprisonment of an american citizen, and because they are not willing it should be supposed there is want of influence in the american embassy. but they ought to see that this language is injurious to me. on the d of this month vendemaire i received a line from mr. beresford in which he tells me i shall be in liberty in two or three days, and that he has this from good authority. on the th i received a note from mr. labonadaire, written at the bureau of the concierge, in which he tells me of the interest you take in procuring my liberation, and that after the steps that had been already taken that i ought to write to the convention to demand my liberty _purely and simply_ as a citizen of the united states of america. he advised me to send the letter to him, and he would translate it. i sent the letter inclosing at the same time a letter to you. i have heard nothing since of the letter to the convention. on the th i received a letter from my former comrade vanhuele, in which he says "i am just come from mr. russell who had yesterday a conversation with your minister and your liberation is certain--you will be in liberty to-morrow." vanhuele also adds, "i find the advice of mr. labonadaire good, for tho' you have some enemies in the convention, the strongest and best part are in your favour." but the case is, and i felt it whilst i was writing the letter to the convention, that there is an awkwardness in my appearing, you being present; for every foreigner should apply thro' his minister, or rather his minister for him. the letter of peter whiteside, quoted at the beginning of the memorial. see introduction to the memorial. it would seem from this whole letter that it was not known by americans in paris that monroe had been kept ont of his office by morris for nearly a month after his arrival in paris.--_editor._ when i thus see day after day and month after month, and promise after promise, pass away without effect, what can i conclude but that either the committees are secretly determined not to let me go, or that the measures you take are not pursued with the vigor necessary to give them effect; or that the american national character is without sufficient importance in the french republic? the latter will be gratifying to the english government. in short, sir, the case is now arrived to that crisis, that for the sake of your own reputation as a minister you ought to require a positive answer from the committee. as to myself, it is more agreeable to me now to contemplate an honourable destruction, and to perish in the act of protesting against the injustice i suffer, and to caution the people of america against confiding too much in the treaty of alliance, violated as it has been in every principle, and in my imprisonment though an american citizen, than remain in the wretched condition i am. i am no longer of any use to the world or to myself. there was a time when i beheld the revolution of the th. thermidor [the fall of robespierre] with enthusiasm. it was the first news my comrade vanhuele communicated to me during my illness, and it contributed to my recovery. but there is still something rotten at the center, and the enemies that i have, though perhaps not numerous, are more active than my friends. if i form a wrong opinion of men or things it is to you i must look to set me right. you are in possession of the secret. i know nothing of it. but that i may be guarded against as many wants as possible i shall set about writing a memorial to congress, another to the state of pennsylvania, and an address to the people of america; but it will be difficult for me to finish these until i know from yourself what applications you have made for my liberation, and what answers you have received. ah, sir, you would have gotten a load of trouble and difficulties off your hands that i fear will multiply every day, had you made it a point to procure my liberty when you first arrived, and not left me floating on the promises of men whom you did not know. you were then a new character. you had come in consequence of their own request that morris should be recalled; and had you then, before you opened any subject of negociation that might arise into controversy, demanded my liberty either as a civility or as a right i see not how they could have refused it. i have already said that after all the promises that have been made i am still in prison. i am in the dark upon all the matters that relate to myself. i know not if it be to the convention, to the committee of public safety, of general surety, or to the deputies who come sometimes to the luxembourg to examine and put persons in liberty, that applications have been made for my liberation. but be it to whom it may, my earnest and pressing request to you as minister is that you will bring this matter to a conclusion by reclaiming me as an american citizen imprisoned in france under the plea of being a foreigner born in england; that i may know the result, and how to prepare the memorials i have mentioned, should there be occasion for them. the right of determining who are american citizens can belong only to america. the convention have declared i am not a french citizen because she has declared me to be a foreigner, and have by that declaration cancelled and annulled the vote of the former assembly that conferred the title of citizen upon citizens or subjects of other countries. i should not be honest to you nor to myself were i not to express myself as i have done in this letter, and i confide and request you will accept it in that sense and in no other. i am, with great respect, your suffering fellow-citizen, thomas paine. p. s.--if my imprisonment is to continue, and i indulge very little hope to the contrary, i shall be under the absolute necessity of applying to you for a supply of several articles. every person here have their families or friends upon the spot who make provision for them. this is not the case with me; i have no person i can apply to but the american minister, and i can have no doubt that if events should prevent my repaying the expence congress or the state of pennsylvania will discharge it for me. to day is vendemaire monday october , but you will not receive this letter till the th. i will send the bearer to you again on the th, wednesday, and i will be obliged to you to send me for the present, three or four candles, a little sugar of any kind, and some soap for shaving; and i should be glad at the same time to receive a line from you and a memorandum of the articles. were i in your place i would order a hogshead of sugar, some boxes of candles and soap from america, for they will become still more scarce. perhaps the best method for you to procure them at present is by applying to the american consuls at bordeaux and havre, and have them up by the diligence. . [undated.] dear sir: as i have not yet received any answer to my last, i have amused myself with writing you the inclosed memoranda. though you recommend patience to me i cannot but feel very pointedly the uncomfortableness of my situation, and among other reflections that occur to me i cannot think that america receives any credit from the long imprisonment that i suffer. it has the appearance of neglecting her citizens and her friends and of encouraging the insults of foreign nations upon them, and upon her commerce. my imprisonment is as well and perhaps more known in england than in france, and they (the english) will not be intimidated from molesting an american ship when they see that one of her best citizens (for i have a right to call myself so) can be imprisoned in another country at the mere discretion of a committee, because he is a foreigner. when you first arrived every body congratulated me that i should soon, if not immediately, be in liberty. since that time about two hundred have been set free from this prison on the applications of their sections or of individuals--and i am continually hurt by the observations that are made--"that a section in paris has more influence than america." it is right that i furnish you with these circumstances. it is the effect of my anxiety that the character of america suffer no reproach; for the world knows that i have acted a generous duty by her. i am the third american that has been imprisoned. griffiths nine weeks, haskins about five, and myself eight [months] and yet in prison. with respect to the two former there was then no minister, for i consider morris as none; and they were liberated on the applications of the americans in paris. as to myself i had rather be publicly and honorably reclaimed, tho' the reclamation was refused, than remain in the uncertain situation that i am. though my health has suffered my spirits are not broken. i have nothing to fear unless innocence and fortitude be crimes. america, whatever may be my fate, will have no cause to blush for me as a citizen; i hope i shall have none to blush for her as a country. if, my dear sir, there is any-thing in the perplexity of ideas i have mistaken, only suppose yourself in my situation, and you will easily find an excuse for it. i need not say how much i shall rejoice to pay my respects to you without-side the walls of this prison, and to enquire after my american friends. but i know that nothing can be accomplished here but by unceasing perseverance and application. yours affectionately. . october , . dear sir: i recd. your friendly letter of the vendemaire on the day it was written, and i thank you for communicating to me your opinion upon my case. ideas serve to beget ideas, and as it is from a review of every thing that can be said upon a subject, or is any ways connected with it, that the best judgment can be formed how to proceed, i present you with such ideas as occur to me. i am sure of one thing, which is that you will give them a patient and attentive perusal. you say in your letter that "i must be sensible that although i am an american citizen, yet if you interfere in my behalf as the minister of my country you must demand my liberation only in case there be no charge against me; and that if there is i must be brought to trial previously, since no person in a _private_ character can be exempt from the laws of the country in which he resides."--this is what i have twice attempted to do. i wrote a letter on the d sans culottodi( ) to the deputies, members of the committee of surety general, who came to the luxembourg to examine the persons detained. the letter was as follows:--"citizens representatives: i offer myself for examination. justice is due to every man. it is justice only that i ask.--thomas paine." as i was not called for examination, nor heard anything in consequence of my letter the first time of sending it, i sent a duplicate of it a few days after. it was carried to them by my good friend and comrade vanhuele, who was then going in liberty, having been examined the day before. vanhuele wrote me on the next day and said: "bourdon de l'oise [who was one of the examining deputies] is the most inveterate enemy you can have. the answer he gave me when i presented your letter put me in such a passion with him that i expected i should be sent back again to prison." i then wrote a third letter but had not an opportunity of sending it, as bourdon did not come any more till after i received mr. labonadaire's letter advising me to write to the convention. the letter was as follows:--"citizens, i have twice offered myself for examination, and i chose to do this while bourdon de l'oise was one of the commissioners. festival of labour, september , .--_editor._. this deputy has said in the convention that i intrigued with an ancient agent of the bureau of foreign affairs. my examination therefore while he is present will give him an opportunity of proving his charge or of convincing himself of his error. if bourdon de l'oise is an honest man he will examine me, but lest he should not i subjoin the following. that which b[ourdon] calls an intrigue was at the request of a member of the former committee of salut public, last august was a twelvemonth. i met the member on the boulevard. he asked me something in french which i did not understand and we went together to the bureau of foreign affairs which was near at hand. the agent (otto, whom you probably knew in america) served as interpreter, the member (it was barère) then asked me st, if i could furnish him with the plan of constitution i had presented to the committee of constitution of which i was member with himself, because, he said, it contained several things which he wished had been adopted: dly, he asked me my opinion upon sending commissioners to the united states of america: dly, if fifty or an hundred ship loads of flour could be procured from america. as verbal interpretation was tedious, it was agreed that i should give him my opinion in writing, and that the agent [otto] should translate it, which he did. i answered the first question by sending him the plan [of a constitution] which he still has. to the second, i replied that i thought it would be proper to send commissioners, because that in revolutions circumstances change so fast that it was often necessary to send a better supply of information to an ally than could be communicated by writing; and that congress had done the same thing during the american war; and i gave him some information that the commissioners would find useful on their arrival. i answered the third question by sending him a list of american exports two years before, distinguishing the several articles by which he would see that the supply he mentioned could be obtained. i sent him also the plan of paul jones, giving it as his, for procuring salt-petre, which was to send a squadron (it did not require a large one) to take possession of the island of st. helen's, to keep the english flag flying at the port, that the english east india ships coming from the east indies, and that ballast with salt-petre, might be induced to enter as usual; and that it would be a considerable time before the english government could know of what had happened at st. helen's. see here what bourdon de l'oise has called an intrigue.--if it was an intrigue it was between a committee of salut public and myself, for the agent was no more than the interpreter and translator, and the object of the intrigue was to furnish france with flour and salt-petre."--i suppose bourdon had heard that the agent and i were seen together talking english, and this was enough for _him_ to found his charge upon.( ) you next say that "i must likewise be sensible that although i am an american citizen that it is likewise believed there [in america] that i am become a citizen of france, and that in consequence this latter character has so far [illegible] the former as to weaken if not destroy any claim you might have to interpose in my behalf." i am sorry i cannot add any new arguments to those i have already advanced on this part of the subject. but i cannot help asking myself, and i wish you would ask the committee, if it could possibly be the intention of france to _kidnap_ citizens from america under the pretence of dubbing them with the title of french citizens, and then, after inviting or rather enveigling them into france, make it a pretence for detaining them? if it was, (which i am sure it was not, tho' they now act as if it was) the insult was to america, tho' the injury was to me, and the treachery was to both. the communications of paine to barère are given in my "life of paine," vol. ii-i pp. , . otto was secretary to the minister of foreign affairs when he acted as interpreter between paine and barère. there was never any charge at all made against paine, as the archives of france now prove, save that he was a "foreigner." paine was of coarse ignorant of the conspiracy between morris and deforgues which had imprisoned him. bourdon de l'oise, one of the most cruel jacobins and terrorists, afterwards conspired with pichegru to overthrow the republic, and was with him banished ( ) to sinamari, south america, where he died soon after his arrival.--_editor._. did they mean to kidnap general washington, mr. madison, and several other americans whom they dubbed with the same title as well as me? let any man look at the condition of france when i arrived in it,--invaded by austrians and prussians and declared to be in danger,--and then ask if any man who had a home and a country to go to, as i had in america, would have come amongst them from any other motive than of assisting them. if i could possibly have supposed them capable of treachery i certainly would not have trusted myself in their power. instead therefore of your being unwilling or apprehensive of meeting the question of french citizenship, they ought to be ashamed of advancing it, and this will be the case unless you admit their arguments or objections too passively. it is a case on their part fit only for the continuations of robespierre to set up. as to the name of french citizen, i never considered it in any other light, so far as regarded myself, than as a token of honorary respect. i never made them any promise nor took any oath of allegiance or of citizenship, nor bound myself by an act or means whatever to the performance of any thing. i acted altogether as a friend invited among them as i supposed on honorable terms. i did not come to join myself to a government already formed, but to assist in forming one _de nouveau_, which was afterwards to be submitted to the people whether they would accept it or not, and this any foreigner might do. and strictly speaking there are no citizens before this is a government. they are all of the people. the americans were not called citizens till after government was established, and not even then until they had taken the oath of allegiance. this was the case in pennsylvania. but be this french citizenship more or less, the convention have swept it away by declaring me to be a foreigner, and imprisoning me as such; and this is a short answer to all those who affect to say or to believe that i am french citizen. a citizen without citizenship is a term non-descript. after the two preceeding paragraphs you ask--"if it be my wish that you should embark in this controversy (meaning that of reclaiming me) and risque the consequences with respect to myself and the good understanding subsisting between the two countries, or, without relinquishing any point of right, and which might be insisted on in case of extremities, pursue according to your best judgment and with the light before you, the object of my liberation?" as i believe from the apparent obstinacy of the committees that circumstances will grow towards the extremity you mention, unless prevented beforehand, i will endeavour to throw into your hands all the lights i can upon the subject. in the first place, reclamation may mean two distinct things. all the reclamations that are made by the sections in behalf of persons detained as _suspect_ are made on the ground that the persons so detained are patriots, and the reclamation is good against the charge of "suspect" because it proves the contrary. but my situation includes another circumstance. i am imprisoned on the charge (if it can be called one) of being a foreigner born in england. you know that foreigner to be a citizen of the united states of america, and that he has been such since the th of july , the political birthday of the united states, and of every american citizen, for before that period all were british subjects, and the states, then provinces, were british dominions.--your reclamation of me therefore as a citizen of the united states (all other considerations apart) is good against the pretence for imprisoning me, or that pretence is equally good against every american citizen born in england, ireland, scotland, germany, or holland, and you know this description of men compose a very great part of the population of the three states of new york, new jersey, and pennsylvania, and make also a part of congress, and of the state legislatures. every politician ought to know, and every civilian does know, that the law of treaty of alliance, and also that of amity and commerce knows no distinction of american citizens on account of the place of their birth, but recognizes all to be citizens whom the constitution and laws of the united states of america recognize as such; and if i recollect rightly there is an article in the treaty of commerce particular to this point. the law therefore which they have here, to put all persons in arrestation born in any of the countries at war with france, is, when applied to citizens of america born in england, ireland, scotland, germany, or holland, a violation of the treaties of alliance and of commerce, because it assumes to make a distinction of citizens which those treaties and the constitution of america know nothing of. this is a subject that officially comes under your cognizance as minister, and it would be consistent that you expostulated with them upon the case. that foolish old man vadier, who was president of the convention and of the committee of surety general when the americans then in paris went to the bar of the convention to reclaim me, gave them for answer that my being born in england was cause sufficient for imprisoning me. it happened that at least half those who went up with that address were in the same case with myself. as to reclamations on the ground of patriotism it is difficult to know what is to be understood by patriotism here. there is not a vice, and scarcely a virtue, that has not as the fashion of the moment suited been called by the name of patriotism. the wretches who composed the revolutionary tribunal of nantz were the patriots of that day and the criminals of this. the jacobins called themselves patriots of the first order, men up to the height of the circumstances, and they are now considered as an antidote to patriotism. but if we give to patriotism a fixed idea consistent with that of a republic, it would signify a strict adherence to the principles of moral justice, to the equality of civil and political rights, to the system of representative government, and an opposition to every hereditary claim to govern; and of this species of patriotism you know my character. but, sir, there are men on the committee who have changed their party but not their principles. their aim is to hold power as long as possible by preventing the establishment of a constitution, and these men are and will be my enemies, and seek to hold me in prison as long as they can. i am too good a patriot for them. it is not improbable that they have heard of the strange language held by some americans that i am not considered in america as an american citizen, and they may also have heard say, that you had no orders respecting me, and it is not improbable that they interpret that language and that silence into a connivance at my imprisonment. if they had not some ideas of this kind would they resist so long the civil efforts you make for my liberation, or would they attach so much importance to the imprisonment of an individual as _to risque_ (as you say to me) _the good understanding that exists between the two countries?_you also say that _it is impossible for any person to do more than you have done without adopting the other means_, meaning that of reclaiming me. how then can you account for the want of success after so many efforts, and such a length of time, upwards of ten weeks, without supposing that they fortify themselves in the interpretation i have just mentioned? i can admit that it was not necessary to give orders, and that it was difficult to give direct orders, for i much question if morris had informed congress or the president of the whole of the case, or had sent copies of my letters to him as i had desired him to do. you would find the case here when you came, and you could not fully understand it till you did come, and as minister you would have authority to act upon it. but as you inform me that you know what the wishes of the president are, you will see also that his reputation is exposed to some risque, admitting there to be ground for the supposition i have made. it will not add to his popularity to have it believed in america, as i am inclined to think the committee believe here, that he connives at my imprisonment. you say also that _it is known to everybody that you wish my liberation_. it is, sir, because they know your wishes that they misinterpret the means you use. they suppose that those mild means arise from a restriction that you cannot use others, or from a consciousness of some defect on my part of which you are unwilling to provoke the enquiry. but as you ask me if it be my wish that you should embark in this controversy and risque the consequences with respect to myself, i will answer this part of the question by marking out precisely the part i wish you to take. what i mean is a sort of middle line above what you have yet gone, and not up to the full extremity of the case, which will still lie in reserve. it is to write a letter to the committee that shall in the first place defeat by anticipation all the objections they might make to a simple reclamation, and at the same time make the ground good for that object. but, instead of sending the letter immediately, to invite some of the committee to your house and to make that invitation the opportunity of shewing them the letter, expressing at the same time a wish that you had done this, from a hope that the business might be settled in an amicable manner without your being forced into an official interference, that would excite the observations of the enemies of both countries, and probably interrupt the harmony that subsisted between the two republics. but as i can not convey the ideas i wish you to use by any means so concisely or so well as to suppose myself the writer of the letter i shall adopt this method and you will make use of such parts or such ideas of it as you please if you approve the plan. here follows the supposed letter: citizens: when i first arrived amongst you as minister from the united states of america i was given to understand that the liberation of thomas paine would take place without any official interference on my part. this was the more agreeable to me as it would not only supercede the necessity of that interference, but would leave to yourselves the whole opportunity of doing justice to a man who as far as i have been able to learn has suffered much cruel treatment under what you have denominated the system of terror. but as i find my expectations have not been fulfilled i am under the official necessity of being more explicit upon the subject than i have hitherto been. permit me, in the first place, to observe that as it is impossible for me to suppose that it could have been the intention of france to seduce any citizens of america from their allegiance to their proper country by offering them the title of french citizen, so must i be compelled to believe, that the title of french citizen conferred on thomas paine was intended only as a mark of honorary respect towards a man who had so eminently distinguished himself in defence of liberty, and on no occasion more so than in promoting and defending your own revolution. for a proof of this i refer you to his two works entitled _rights of man_. those works have procured to him an addition of esteem in america, and i am sorry they have been so ill rewarded in france. but be this title of french citizen more or less, it is now entirely swept away by the vote of the convention which declares him to be a foreigner, and which supercedes the vote of the assembly that conferred that title upon him, consequently upon the case superceded with it. in consequence of this vote of the convention declaring him to be a foreigner the former committees have imprisoned him. it is therefore become my official duty to declare to you that the foreigner thus imprisoned is a citizen of the united states of america as fully, as legally, as constitutionally as myself, and that he is moreover one of the principal founders of the american republic. i have been informed of a law or decree of the convention which subjects foreigners born in any of the countries at war with france to arrestation and imprisonment. this law when applied to citizens of america born in england is an infraction of the treaty of alliance and of amity and commerce, which knows no distinction of american citizens on account of the place of their birth, but recognizes all to be citizens whom the constitution and laws of america recognize as such. the circumstances under which america has been peopled requires this guard on her treaties, because the mass of her citizens are composed not of natives only but also of the natives of almost all the countries of europe who have sought an asylum there from the persecutions they experienced in their own countries. after this intimation you will without doubt see the propriety of modelling that law to the principles of the treaty, because the law of treaty in cases where it applies is the governing law to both parties alike, and it cannot be infracted without hazarding the existence of the treaty. of the patriotism of thomas paine i can speak fully, if we agree to give to patriotism a fixed idea consistent with that of a republic. it would then signify a strict adherence to moral justice, to the equality of civil and political rights, to the system of representative government, and an opposition to all hereditary claims to govern. admitting patriotism to consist in these principles, i know of no man who has gone beyond thomas paine in promulgating and defending them, and that for almost twenty years past. i have now spoken to you on the principal matters concerned in the case of thomas paine. the title of french citizen which you had enforced upon him, you have since taken away by declaring him to be a foreigner, and consequently this part of the subject ceases of itself. i have declared to you that this foreigner is a citizen of the united states of america, and have assured you of his patriotism. i cannot help at the same time repeating to you my wish that his liberation had taken place without my being obliged to go thus far into the subject, because it is the mutual interest of both republics to avoid as much as possible all subjects of controversy, especially those from which no possible good can flow. i still hope that you will save me the unpleasant task of proceeding any farther by sending me an order for his liberation, which the injured state of his health absolutely requires. i shall be happy to receive such an order from you and happy in presenting it to him, for to the welfare of thomas paine the americans are not and cannot be indifferent. this is the sort of letter i wish you to write, for i have no idea that you will succeed by any measures that can, by any kind of construction, be interpreted into a want of confidence or an apprehension of consequences. it is themselves that ought to be apprehensive of consequences if any are to be apprehended. they, i mean the committees, are not certain that the convention or the nation would support them in forcing any question to extremity that might interrupt the good understanding subsisting between the two countries; and i know of no question [so likely] to do this as that which involves the rights and liberty of a citizen. you will please to observe that i have put the case of french citizenship in a point of view that ought not only to preclude, but to make them ashamed to advance any thing upon this subject; and this is better than to have to answer their counter-reclamation afterwards. either the citizenship was intended as a token of honorary respect, or it was in-tended to deprive america of a citizen or to seduce him from his allegiance to his proper country. if it was intended as an honour they must act consistently with the principle of honour. but if they make a pretence for detaining me, they convict themselves of the act of seduction. had america singled out any particular french citizen, complimented him with the title of citizen of america, which he without suspecting any fraudulent intention might accept, and then after having invited or rather inveigled him into america made his acceptance of that title a pretence for seducing or forcing him from his allegiance to france, would not france have just cause to be offended at america? and ought not america to have the same right to be offended at france? and will the committees take upon themselves to answer for the dishonour they bring upon the national character of their country? if these arguments are stated beforehand they will prevent the committees going into the subject of french citizenship. they must be ashamed of it. but after all the case comes to this, that this french citizenship appertains no longer to me because the convention, as i have already said, have swept it away by declaring me to be foreigner, and it is not in the power of the committees to reverse it. but if i am to be citizen and foreigner, and citizen again, just when and how and for any purpose they please, they take the government of america into their own hands and make her only a cypher in their system. though these ideas have been long with me they have been more particularly matured by reading your last communication, and i have many reasons to wish you had opened that communication sooner. i am best acquainted with the persons you have to deal with and the circumstances of my own case. if you chuse to adopt the letter as it is, i send you a translation for the sake of expediting the business. i have endeavoured to conceive your own manner of expression as well as i could, and the civility of language you would use, but the matter of the letter is essential to me. if you chuse to confer with some of the members of the committee at your own house on the subject of the letter it may render the sending it unnecessary; but in either case i must request and press you not to give away to evasion and delay, and that you will fix positively with them that they shall give you an answer in three or four days whether they will liberate me on the representation you have made in the letter, or whether you must be forced to go further into the subject. the state of my health will not admit of delay, and besides the tortured state of my mind wears me down. if they talk of bringing me to trial (and i well know there is no accusation against me and that they can bring none) i certainly summons you as an evidence to my character. this you may mention to them either as what i intend to do or what you intend to do voluntarily for me. i am anxious that you undertake this business without losing time, because if i am not liberated in the course of this decade, i intend, if in case the seventy-one detained deputies are liberated, to follow the same track that they have done, and publish my own case myself.( ) i cannot rest any longer in this state of miserable suspense, be the consequences what they may. thomas paine. those deputies, imprisoned for having protested against the overthrow of the girondin government, may , , when the convention was invaded and overawed by the armed communes of paris. these deputies were liberated and recalled to the convention, december , . paine was invited to resume his seat the day before, by a special act of the convention, after an eloquent speech by thibaudeau.-- _editor._. dear sir: i need not mention to you the happiness i received from the information you sent me by mr. beresford. i easily guess the persons you have conversed with on the subject of my liberation--but matters and even promises that pass in conversation are not quite so strictly attended to here as in the country you come from. i am not, my dear sir, impatient from any thing in my disposition, but the state of my health requires liberty and a better air; and besides this, the rules of the prison do not permit me, though i have all the indulgences the concierge can give, to procure the things necessary to my recovery, which is slow as to strength. i have a tolerable appetite but the allowance of provision is scanty. we are not allowed a knife to cut our victuals with, nor a razor to shave; but they have lately allowed some barbers that are here to shave. the room where i am lodged is a ground floor level with the earth in the garden and floored with brick, and is so wet after every rain that i cannot guard against taking colds that continually cheat my recovery. if you could, without interfering with or deranging the mode proposed for my liberation, inform the committee that the state of my health requires liberty and air, it would be good ground to hasten my liberation. the length of my imprisonment is also a reason, for i am now almost the oldest inhabitant of this uncomfortable mansion, and i see twenty, thirty and sometimes forty persons a day put in liberty who have not been so long confined as myself. their liberation is a happiness to me; but i feel sometimes, a little mortification that i am thus left behind. i leave it entirely to you to arrange this matter. the messenger waits. your's affectionately, t. p. i hope and wish much to see you. i have much to say. i have had the attendance of dr. graham (physician to genl. o'hara, who is prisoner here) and of dr. makouski, house physician, who has been most exceedingly kind to me. after i am at liberty i shall be glad to introduce him to you. this letter, written in a feeble handwriting, is not dated, but monroe's endorsement, " d. luxembourg," indicates november , two days before paine's liberation.-- _editor._. xxii. letter to george washington. paris, july , . as censure is but awkwardly softened by apology. i shall offer you no apology for this letter. the eventful crisis to which your double politics have conducted the affairs of your country, requires an investigation uncramped by ceremony. there was a time when the fame of america, moral and political, stood fair and high in the world. the lustre of her revolution extended itself to every individual; and to be a citizen of america gave a title to respect in europe. neither meanness nor ingratitude had been mingled in the composition of her character. her resistance to the attempted tyranny of england left her unsuspected of the one, and her open acknowledgment of the aid she received from france precluded all suspicion of the other. the washington of politics had not then appeared. at the time i left america (april ) the continental convention, that formed the federal constitution was on the point of meeting. since that time new schemes of politics, and new distinctions of parties, have arisen. the term _antifederalist_ has been applied to all those who combated the defects of that constitution, or opposed the measures of your administration. it was only to the absolute necessity of establishing some federal authority, extending equally over all the states, that an instrument so inconsistent as the present federal constitution is, obtained a suffrage. i would have voted for it myself, had i been in america, or even for a worse, rather than have had none, provided it contained the means of remedying its defects by the same appeal to the people by which it was to be established. it is always better policy to leave removeable errors to expose themselves, than to hazard too much in contending against them theoretically. i have introduced these observations, not only to mark the general difference between antifederalist and anti-constitutionalist, but to preclude the effect, and even the application, of the former of these terms to myself. i declare myself opposed to several matters in the constitution, particularly to the manner in which what is called the executive is formed, and to the long duration of the senate; and if i live to return to america, i will use all my endeavours to have them altered.(*) i also declare myself opposed to almost the whole of your administration; for i know it to have been deceitful, if not perfidious, as i shall shew in the course of this letter. but as to the point of consolidating the states into a federal government, it so happens, that the proposition for that purpose came originally from myself. i proposed it in a letter to chancellor livingston in the spring of , while that gentleman was minister for foreign affairs. the five per cent, duty recommended by congress had then fallen through, having been adopted by some of the states, altered by others, rejected by rhode island, and repealed by virginia after it had been consented to. the proposal in the letter i allude to, was to get over the whole difficulty at once, by annexing a continental legislative body to congress; for in order to have any law of the union uniform, the case could only be, that either congress, as it then stood, must frame the law, and the states severally adopt it without alteration, or the states must erect a continental legislature for the purpose. chancellor livingston, robert morris, gouverneur morris, and myself, had a meeting at the house of robert morris on the subject of that letter. there was no diversity of opinion on the proposition for a continental legislature: the only difficulty was on the manner of bringing the proposition forward. for my own part, as i considered it as a remedy in reserve, that could be applied at any time _when the states saw themselves wrong enough to be put right_, (which did not appear to be the case at that time) i did not see the propriety of urging it precipitately, and declined being the publisher of it myself. after this account of a fact, the leaders of your party will scarcely have the hardiness to apply to me the term of antifederalist. but i can go to a date and to a fact beyond this; for the proposition for electing a continental convention to form the continental government is one of the subjects treated of in the pamphlet _common sense_.( ) * i have always been opposed to the mode of refining government up to an individual, or what is called a single executive. such a man will always be the chief of a party. a plurality is far better: it combines the mass of a nation better together: and besides this, it is necessary to the manly mind of a republic that it loses the debasing idea of obeying an individual.--_author_. see vol. i. of this work, pp. , , , no.--_editor._. having thus cleared away a little of the rubbish that might otherwise have lain in my way, i return to the point of time at which the present federal constitution and your administration began. it was very well said by an anonymous writer in philadelphia, about a year before that period, that "_thirteen staves and ne'er a hoop will not make a barrel_" and as any kind of hooping the barrel, however defectively executed, would be better than none, it was scarcely possible but that considerable advantages must arise from the federal hooping of the states. it was with pleasure that every sincere friend of america beheld, as the natural effect of union, her rising prosperity; and it was with grief they saw that prosperity mixed, even in the blossom, with the germ of corruption. monopolies of every kind marked your administration almost in the moment of its commencement. the lands obtained by the revolution were lavished upon partisans; the interest of the disbanded soldier was sold to the speculator; injustice was acted under the pretence of faith; and the chief of the army became the patron of the fraud.( ) from such a beginning what else could be expected, than what has happened? a mean and servile submission to the insults of one nation; treachery and ingratitude to another. the history of the scioto company, by which so many frenchmen as well as americans were ruined, warranted an even stronger statement. though washington did not know what was going on, he cannot be acquitted of a lack of due precaution in patronizing leading agents of these speculations, and introducing them in france.--_editor._ some vices make their approach with such a splendid appearance, that we scarcely know to what class of moral distinctions they belong. they are rather virtues corrupted than vices, originally. but meanness and ingratitude have nothing equivocal in their character. there is not a trait in them that renders them doubtful. they are so originally vice, that they are generated in the dung of other vices, and crawl into existence with the filth upon their back. the fugitives have found protection in you, and the levee-room is their place of rendezvous. as the federal constitution is a copy, though not quite so base as the original, of the form of the british government, an imitation of its vices was naturally to be expected. so intimate is the connection between _form and practice_, that to adopt the one is to invite the other. imitation is naturally progressive, and is rapidly so in matters that are vicious. soon after the federal constitution arrived in england, i received a letter from a female literary correspondent (a native of new york) very well mixed with friendship, sentiment, and politics. in my answer to that letter, i permitted myself to ramble into the wilderness of imagination, and to anticipate what might hereafter be the condition of america. i had no idea that the picture i then drew was realizing so fast, and still less that mr. washington was hurrying it on. as the extract i allude to is congenial with the subject i am upon, i here transcribe it: [_the extract is the same as that given in a footnote, in the memorial to monroe, p. _.] impressed, as i was, with apprehensions of this kind, i had america constantly in my mind in all the publications i afterwards made. the first, and still more the second, part of the rights of man, bear evident marks of this watchfulness; and the dissertation on first principles of government [xxiv.] goes more directly to the point than either of the former. i now pass on to other subjects. it will be supposed by those into whose hands this letter may fall, that i have some personal resentment against you; i will therefore settle this point before i proceed further. if i have any resentment, you must acknowledge that i have not been hasty in declaring it; neither would it now be declared (for what are private resentments to the public) if the cause of it did not unite itself as well with your public as with your private character, and with the motives of your political conduct. the part i acted in the american revolution is well known; i shall not here repeat it. i know also that had it not been for the aid received from france, in men, money and ships, that your cold and unmilitary conduct (as i shall shew in the course of this letter) would in all probability have lost america; at least she would not have been the independent nation she now is. you slept away your time in the field, till the finances of the country were completely exhausted, and you have but little share in the glory of the final event. it is time, sir, to speak the undisguised language of historical truth. elevated to the chair of the presidency, you assumed the merit of every thing to yourself, and the natural ingratitude of your constitution began to appear. you commenced your presidential career by encouraging and swallowing the grossest adulation, and you travelled america from one end to the other to put yourself in the way of receiving it. you have as many addresses in your chest as james the ii. as to what were your views, for if you are not great enough to have ambition you are little enough to have vanity, they cannot be directly inferred from expressions of your own; but the partizans of your politics have divulged the secret. john adams has said, (and john it is known was always a speller after places and offices, and never thought his little services were highly enough paid,)--john has said, that as mr. washington had no child, the presidency should be made hereditary in the family of lund washington. john might then have counted upon some sinecure himself, and a provision for his descendants. he did not go so far as to say, also, that the vice-presidency should be hereditary in the family of john adams. he prudently left that to stand on the ground that one good turn deserves another.(*) john adams is one of those men who never contemplated the origin of government, or comprehended any thing of first principles. if he had, he might have seen, that the right to set up and establish hereditary government, never did, and never can, exist in any generation at any time whatever; that it is of the nature of treason; because it is an attempt to take away the rights of all the minors living at that time, and of all succeeding generations. it is of a degree beyond common treason. it is a sin against nature. the equal right of every generation is a right fixed in the nature of things. it belongs to the son when of age, as it belonged to the father before him. john adams would himself deny the right that any former deceased generation could have to decree authoritatively a succession of governors over him, or over his children; and yet he assumes the pretended right, treasonable as it is, of acting it himself. his ignorance is his best excuse. john jay has said,(**) (and this john was always the sycophant of every thing in power, from mr. girard in america, to grenville in england,)--john jay has said, that the senate should have been appointed for life. he would then have been sure of never wanting a lucrative appointment for himself, and have had no fears about impeachment. these are the disguised traitors that call themselves federalists.(**) could i have known to what degree of corruption and perfidy the administrative part of the government of america had descended, i could have been at no loss to have understood the reservedness of mr. washington towards me, during my imprisonment in the luxembourg. there are cases in which silence is a loud language. i will here explain the cause of that imprisonment, and return to mr. washington afterwards. * two persons to whom john adams said this, told me of it. the secretary of mr. jay was present when it was told to me.--_author_. ** if mr. john jay desires to know on what authority i say this, i will give that authority publicly when he chooses to call for it--_author_. in the course of that rage, terror and suspicion, which the brutal letter of the duke of brunswick first started into existence in france, it happened that almost every man who was opposed to violence, or who was not violent himself, became suspected. i had constantly been opposed to every thing which was of the nature or of the appearance of violence; but as i had always done it in a manner that shewed it to be a principle founded in my heart, and not a political manouvre, it precluded the pretence of accusing me. i was reached, however, under another pretence. a decree was passed to imprison all persons born in england; but as i was a member of the convention, and had been complimented with the honorary style of citizen of france, as mr. washington and some other americans had been, this decree fell short of reaching me. a motion was afterwards made and carried, supported chiefly by bourdon de l'oise, for expelling foreigners from the convention. my expulsion being thus effected, the two committees of public safety and of general surety, of which robespierre was the dictator, put me in arrestation under the former decree for imprisoning persons born in england. having thus shewn under what pretence the imprisonment was effected, i come to speak of such parts of the case as apply between me and mr. washington, either as a president or as an individual. i have always considered that a foreigner, such as i was in fact, with respect to france, might be a member of a convention for framing a constitution, without affecting his right of citizenship in the country to which he belongs, but not a member of a government after a constitution is formed; and i have uniformly acted upon this distinction» to be a member of a government requires that a person be in allegiance to that government and to the country locally. but a constitution, being a thing of principle, and not of action, and which, after it is formed, is to be referred to the people for their approbation or rejection, does not require allegiance in the persons forming and proposing it; and besides this, it is only to the thing after it be formed and established, and to the country after its governmental character is fixed by the adoption of a constitution, that the allegiance can be given. no oath of allegiance or of citizenship was required of the members who composed the convention: there was nothing existing in form to swear allegiance to. if any such condition had been required, i could not, as citizen of america in fact, though citizen of france by compliment, have accepted a seat in the convention. as my citizenship in america was not altered or diminished by any thing i had done in europe, (on the contrary, it ought to be considered as strengthened, for it was the american principle of government that i was endeavouring to spread in europe,) and as it is the duty of every govern-ment to charge itself with the care of any of its citizens who may happen to fall under an arbitrary persecution abroad, and is also one of the reasons for which ambassadors or ministers are appointed,--it was the duty of the executive department in america, to have made (at least) some enquiries about me, as soon as it heard of my imprisonment. but if this had not been the case, that government owed it to me on every ground and principle of honour and gratitude. mr. washington owed it to me on every score of private acquaintance, i will not now say, friendship; for it has some time been known by those who know him, that he has no friendships; that he is incapable of forming any; he can serve or desert a man, or a cause, with constitutional indifference; and it is this cold hermaphrodite faculty that imposed itself upon the world, and was credited for a while by enemies as by friends, for prudence, moderation and impartiality.( ) "l'on pent dire qu'il [washington] jouit de tous les avantages possibles a l'exception des douceurs de l'amitié."--louis otto, chargé d'affaires (at new york) to his government, june, . french archives, vol. , no. .--editor. soon after i was put into arrestation, and imprisoned in the luxembourg, the americans who were then in paris went in a body to the bar of the convention to reclaim me. they were answered by the then president vadier, who has since absconded, that _i was born in england_, and it was signified to them, by some of the committee of _general surety_, to whom they were referred (i have been told it was billaud varennes,) that their reclamation of me was only the act of individuals, without any authority from the american government. a few days after this, all communications from persons imprisoned to any person without the prison was cut off by an order of the police. i neither saw, nor heard from, any body for six months; and the only hope that remained to me was, that a new minister would arrive from america to supercede morris, and that he would be authorized to enquire into the cause of my imprisonment. but even this hope, in the state to which matters were daily arriving, was too remote to have any consolatory effect, and i contented myself with the thought, that i might be remembered when it would be too late. there is perhaps no condition from which a man conscious of his own uprightness cannot derive consolation; for it is in itself a consolation for him to find, that he can bear that condition with calmness and fortitude. from about the middle of march ( ) to the fall of robespierre july , ( th of thermidor,) the state of things in the prisons was a continued scene of horror. no man could count upon life for twenty-four hours. to such a pitch of rage and suspicion were robespierre and his committee arrived, that it seemed as if they feared to leave a man living. scarcely a night passed in which ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, or more, were not taken out of the prison, carried before a pretended tribunal in the morning, and guillotined before night. one hundred and sixty-nine were taken out of the luxembourg one night, in the month of july, and one hundred and sixty of them guillotined. a list of two hundred more, according to the report in the prison, was preparing a few days before robespierre fell. in this last list i have good reason to believe i was included. a memorandum in the hand-writing of robespierre was afterwards produced in the convention, by the committee to whom the papers of robespierre were referred, in these words: "demander que thomas "i demand that thomas paine "payne soit décrété d'ac- be decreed of accusation "cusation pour les inté- for the interests of america "rôtsde l'amérique,autant as well as of france." "que de la france." in reading this the committee added, "why thomas payne more than another? because he helped to establish the liberty of both worlds."--_editor_. i had then been imprisoned seven months, and the silence of the executive part of the government of america (mr. washington) upon the case, and upon every thing respecting me, was explanation enough to robespierre that he might proceed to extremities. a violent fever which had nearly terminated my existence, was, i believe, the circumstance that preserved it. i was not in a condition to be removed, or to know of what was passing, or of what had passed, for more than a month. it makes a blank in my remembrance of life. the first thing i was informed of was the fall of robespierre. about a week after this, mr. monroe arrived to supercede gouverneur morris, and as soon as i was able to write a note legible enough to be read, i found a way to convey one to him by means of the man who lighted the lamps in the prison; and whose unabated friendship to me, from whom he had never received any service, and with difficulty accepted any recompense, puts the character of mr. washington to shame. in a few days i received a message from mr. monroe, conveyed to me in a note from an intermediate person, with assurance of his friendship, and expressing a desire that i would rest the case in his hands. after a fortnight or more had passed, and hearing nothing farther, i wrote to a friend who was then in paris, a citizen of philadelphia, requesting him to inform me what was the true situation of things with respect to me. i was sure that something was the matter; i began to have hard thoughts of mr. washington, but i was unwilling to encourage them. in about ten days, i received an answer to my letter, in which the writer says, "mr. monroe has told me that he has no order [meaning from the president, mr. washington] respecting you, but that he (mr. monroe) will do every thing in his power to liberate you; but, from what i learn from the americans lately arrived in paris, you are not considered, either by the american government, or by the individuals, as an american citizen." i was now at no loss to understand mr. washington and his new fangled faction, and that their policy was silently to leave me to fall in france. they were rushing as fast as they could venture, without awakening the jealousy of america, into all the vices and corruptions of the british government; and it was no more consistent with the policy of mr. washington, and those who immediately surrounded him, than it was with that of robespierre or of pitt, that i should survive. they have, however, missed the mark, and the reaction is upon themselves. upon the receipt of the letter just alluded to, i sent a memorial to mr. monroe, which the reader will find in the appendix, and i received from him the following answer.( ) it is dated the th of september, but did not come to hand till about the th of october. i was then failing into a relapse, the weather was becoming damp and cold, fuel was not to be had, and the abscess in my side, the consequence of these things, and of the want of air and exercise, was beginning to form, and which has continued immoveable ever since. here follows mr. monroe's letter. the appendix consisted of an abridgment of the memorial, which forms the preceding chapter (xxi.) in this volume.-- _editor._. paris, september th, . "dear sir, "i was favoured soon after my arrival here with several letters from you, and more latterly with one in the character of memorial upon the subject of your confinement; and should have answered them at the times they were respectively written had i not concluded you would have calculated with certainty upon the deep interest i take in your welfare, and the pleasure with which i shall embrace every opportunity in my power to serve you. i should still pursue the same course, and for reasons which must obviously occur, if i did not find that you are disquieted with apprehensions upon interesting points, and which justice to you and our country equally forbid you should entertain. you mention that you have been informed you are not considered as an american citizen by the americans, and that you have likewise heard that i had no instructions respecting you by the government. i doubt not the person who gave you the information meant well, but i suspect he did not even convey accurately his own ideas on the first point: for i presume the most he could say is, that you had likewise become a french citizen, and which by no means deprived you of being an american one. even this, however, may be doubted, i mean the acquisition of citizenship in france, and i confess you have said much to show that it has not been made. i really suspect that this was all that the gentleman who wrote to you, and those americans he heard speak upon the subject meant. it becomes my duty, however, to declare to you, that i consider you as an american citizen, and that you are considered universally in that character by the people of america. as such you are entitled to my attention; and so far as it can be given consistently with those obligations which are mutual between every government and even a transient passenger, you shall receive it. "the congress have never decided upon the subject of citizenship in a manner to regard the present case. by being with us through the revolution you are of our country as absolutely as if you had been born there, and you are no more of england, than every native american is. this is the true doctrine in the present case, so far as it becomes complicated with any other consideration. i have mentioned it to make you easy upon the only point which could give you any disquietude. "is it necessary for me to tell you how much all your countrymen, i speak of the great mass of the people, are interested in your welfare? they have not forgotten the history of their own revolution and the difficult scenes through which they passed; nor do they review its several stages without reviving in their bosoms a due sensibility of the merits of those who served them in that great and arduous conflict. the crime of ingratitude has not yet stained, and i trust never will stain, our national character. you are considered by them as not only having rendered important service in our own revolution, but as being, on a more extensive scale, the friend of human rights, and a distinguished and able advocate in favour of public liberty. to the welfare of thomas paine, the americans are not, nor can they be, indifferent. "of the sense which the president has always entertained of your merits, and of his friendly disposition towards you, you are too well assured to require any declaration of it from me. that i forward his wishes in seeking your safety is what i well know, and this will form an additional obligation on me to perform what i should otherwise consider as a duty. "you are, in my opinion, at present menaced by no kind of danger. to liberate you, will be an object of my endeavours, and as soon as possible. but you must, until that event shall be accomplished, bear your situation with patience and fortitude. you will likewise have the justice to recollect, that i am placed here upon a difficult theatre* many important objects to attend to, with few to consult it becomes me in pursuit of those to regulate my conduct in respect to each, as to the manner and the time, as will, in my judgment, be best calculated to accomplish the whole. "with great esteem and respect consider me personally your friend, "james monroe." the part in mr. monroe's letter, in which he speaks of the president, (mr. washington,) is put in soft language. mr. monroe knew what mr. washington had said formerly, and he was willing to keep that in view. but the fact is, not only that mr. washington had given no orders to mr. monroe, as the letter [of whiteside] stated, but he did not so much as say to him, enquire if mr. paine be dead or alive, in prison or out, or see if there be any assistance we can give him. this i presume alludes to the embarrassments which the strange conduct of gouverneur morris had occasioned, and which, i well know, had created suspicions of the sincerity of mr. washington.--_author_. voi. m--ij while these matters were passing, the liberations from the prisons were numerous; from twenty to forty in the course of almost every twenty-four hours. the continuance of my imprisonment after a new minister had arrived immediately from america, which was now more than two months, was a matter so obviously strange, that i found the character of the american government spoken of in very unqualified terms of reproach; not only by those who still remained in prison, but by those who were liberated, and by persons who had access to the prison from without. under these circumstances i wrote again to mr. monroe, and found occasion, among other things, to say: "it will not add to the popularity of mr. washington to have it believed in america, as it is believed here, that he connives at my imprisonment." the case, so far as it respected mr. monroe, was, that having to get over the difficulties, which the strange conduct of gouverneur morris had thrown in the way of a successor, and having no authority from the american government to speak officially upon any thing relating to me, he found himself obliged to proceed by unofficial means with individual members; for though robespierre was overthrown, the robespierrian members of the committee of public safety still remained in considerable force, and had they found out that mr. monroe had no official authority upon the case, they would have paid little or no regard to his reclamation of me. in the mean time my health was suffering exceedingly, the dreary prospect of winter was coming on, and imprisonment was still a thing of danger. after the robespierrian members of the committee were removed by the expiration of their time of serving, mr. monroe reclaimed me, and i was liberated the th of november. mr. monroe arrived in paris the beginning of august before. all that period of my imprisonment, at least, i owe not to robespierre, but to his colleague in projects, george washington. immediately upon my liberation, mr. monroe invited me to his house, where i remained more than a year and a half; and i speak of his aid and friendship, as an open-hearted man will always do in such a case, with respect and gratitude. soon after my liberation, the convention passed an unanimous vote, to invite me to return to my seat among them. the times were still unsettled and dangerous, as well from without as within, for the coalition was unbroken, and the constitution not settled. i chose, however, to accept the invitation: for as i undertake nothing but what i believe to be right, i abandon nothing that i undertake; and i was willing also to shew, that, as i was not of a cast of mind to be deterred by prospects or retrospects of danger, so neither were my principles to be weakened by misfortune or perverted by disgust. being now once more abroad in the world, i began to find that i was not the only one who had conceived an unfavourable opinion of mr. washington; it was evident that his character was on the decline as well among americans as among foreigners of different nations. from being the chief of the government, he had made himself the chief of a party; and his integrity was questioned, for his politics had a doubtful appearance. the mission of mr. jay to london, notwithstanding there was an american minister there already, had then taken place, and was beginning to be talked of. it appeared to others, as it did to me, to be enveloped in mystery, which every day served either to increase or to explain into matter of suspicion. in the year , or about that time, mr. washington, as president, had sent gouverneur morris to london, as his secret agent to have some communication with the british ministry. to cover the agency of morris it was given out, i know not by whom, that he went as an agent from robert morris to borrow money in europe, and the report was permitted to pass uncontradicted. the event of morris's negociation was, that mr. hammond was sent minister from england to america, pinckney from america to england, and himself minister to france. if, while morris was minister in france, he was not a emissary of the british ministry and the coalesced powers, he gave strong reasons to suspect him of it. no one who saw his conduct, and heard his conversation, could doubt his being in their interest; and had he not got off the time he did, after his recall, he would have been in arrestation. some letters of his had fallen into the hands of the committee of public safety, and enquiry was making after him. a great bustle had been made by mr. washington about the conduct of genet in america, while that of his own minister, morris, in france, was infinitely more reproachable. if genet was imprudent or rash, he was not treacherous; but morris was all three. he was the enemy of the french revolution, in every stage of it. but notwithstanding this conduct on the part of morris, and the known profligacy of his character, mr. washington in a letter he wrote to him at the time of recalling him on the complaint and request of the committee of public safety, assures him, that though he had complied with that request, he still retained the same esteem and friendship for him as before. this letter morris was foolish enough to tell of; and, as his own char-acter and conduct were notorious, the telling of it could have but one effect, which was that of implicating the character of the writer.( ) morris still loiters in europe, chiefly in england; and mr. washington is still in correspondence with him. mr. washington ought, therefore, to expect, especially since his conduct in the affairs of jay's treaty, that france must consider morris and washington as men of the same description. the chief difference, however, between the two is, (for in politics there is none,) that the one is profligate enough to profess an indifference about _moral_ principles, and the other is prudent enough to conceal the want of them. washington wrote to morris, june , , "my confidence in and friendship for you remain undiminished." it was not "foolish" but sagacious to show this one sentence, without which morris might not have escaped out of france. the letter reveals washington's mental decline. he says "until then [fauchet's demand for recall of morris, early ] i had supposed you stood well with the powers that were." lafayette had pleaded for morris's removal, and two french ministers before fauchet, ternant and genet, had expressed their government's dissatisfaction with him. see ford's writings of washington, vii., p. ; also editor's introduction to xxi.--_editor._ about three months after i was at liberty, the official note of jay to grenville on the subject of the capture of american vessels by the british cruisers, appeared in the american papers that arrived at paris. every thing was of a-piece. every thing was mean. the same kind of character went to all circumstances public or private. disgusted at this national degradation, as well as at the particular conduct of mr. washington to me, i wrote to him (mr. washington) on the d of february ( ) under cover to the then secretary of state, (mr. randolph,) and entrusted the letter to mr. le-tombe, who was appointed french consul to philadelphia, and was on the point of taking his departure. when i supposed mr. letombe had sailed, i mentioned the letter to mr. monroe, and as i was then in his house, i shewed it to him. he expressed a wish that i would recall it, which he supposed might be done, as he had learnt that mr. letombe had not then sailed. i agreed to do so, and it was returned by mr. letombe under cover to mr. monroe. the letter, however, will now reach mr. washington publicly in the course of this work. about the month of september following, i had a severe relapse which gave occasion to the report of my death. i had felt it coming on a considerable time before, which occasioned me to hasten the work i had then in hand, the _second part of the age of reason_. when i had finished that work, i bestowed another letter on mr. washington, which i sent under cover to mr. benj. franklin bache of philadelphia. the letter is as follows: "paris, september th, . "sir, "i had written you a letter by mr. letombe, french consul, but, at the request of mr. monroe, i withdrew it, and the letter is still by me. i was the more easily prevailed upon to do this, as it was then my intention to have returned to america the latter end of the present year, ; but the illness i now suffer prevents me. in case i had come, i should have applied to you for such parts of your official letters (and of your private ones, if you had chosen to give them) as contained any instructions or directions either to mr. monroe, or to mr. morris, or to any other person respecting me; for after you were informed of my imprisonment in france, it was incumbent on you to have made some enquiry into the cause, as you might very well conclude that i had not the opportunity of informing you of it. i cannot understand your silence upon this subject upon any other ground, than as _connivance_ at my imprisonment; and this is the manner it is understood here, and will be understood in america, unless you give me authority for contradicting it. i therefore write you this letter, to propose to you to send me copies of any letters you have written, that may remove that suspicion. in the preface to the second part of the age of reason, i have given a memorandum from the hand-writing of robespierre, in which he proposed a decree of accusation against me, '_for the interests of america as well as of france!_' he could have no cause for putting america in the case, but by interpreting the silence of the american government into connivance and consent. i was imprisoned on the ground of being born in england; and your silence in not enquiring into the cause of that imprisonment, and reclaiming me against it, was tacitly giving me up. i ought not to have suspected you of treachery; but whether i recover from the illness i now suffer or not, i shall continue to think you treacherous, till you give me cause to think otherwise. i am sure you would have found yourself more at your ease, had you acted by me as you ought; for whether your desertion of me was intended to gratify the english government, or to let me fall into destruction in france that you might exclaim the louder against the french revolution, or whether you hoped by my extinction to meet with less opposition in mounting up the american government--either of these will involve you in reproach you will not easily shake off. "thomas paine." washington papers in state department. endorsed by bache: "jan. , . enclosed to benj. franklin bache, and by him forwarded immediately upon receipt."--_editor._. here follows the letter above alluded to, which i had stopped in complaisance to mr. monroe. "paris, february aad, . "sir, "as it is always painful to reproach those one would wish to respect, it is not without some difficulty that i have taken the resolution to write to you. the dangers to which i have been exposed cannot have been unknown to you, and the guarded silence you have observed upon that circumstance is what i ought not to have expected from you, either as a friend or as president of the united states. "you knew enough of my character to be assured that i could not have deserved imprisonment in france; and, without knowing any thing more than this, you had sufficient ground to have taken some interest for my safety. every motive arising from recollection of times past, ought to have suggested to you the propriety of such a measure. but i cannot find that you have so much as directed any enquiry to be made whether i was in prison or at liberty, dead or alive; what the cause of that imprisonment was, or whether there was any service or assistance you could render. is this what i ought to have expected from america, after the part i had acted towards her, or will it redound to her honour or to yours, that i tell the story? i do not hesitate to say, that you have not served america with more disinterestedness, or greater zeal, or more fidelity, than myself, and i know not if with better effect. after the revolution of america was established i ventured into new scenes of difficulties to extend the principles which that revolution had produced, and you rested at home to partake of the advantages. in the progress of events, you beheld yourself a president in america, and me a prisoner in france. you folded your arms, forgot your friend, and became silent. "as every thing i have been doing in europe was connected with my wishes for the prosperity of america, i ought to be the more surprised at this conduct on the part of her government. it leaves me but one mode of explanation, which is, _that every thing is not as it ought to be amongst you_, and that the presence of a man who might disapprove, and who had credit enough with the country to be heard and believed, was not wished for. this was the operating motive with the despotic faction that imprisoned me in france, (though the pretence was, that i was a foreigner,) and those that have been silent and inactive towards me in america, appear to me to have acted from the same motive. it is impossible for me to discover any other.( ) "after the part i have taken in the revolution of america, it is natural that i feel interested in whatever relates to her character and prosperity. though i am not on the spot to see what is immediately acting there, i see some part of what she is acting in europe. for your own sake, as well as for that of america, i was both surprised and concerned at the appointment of gouverneur morris to be minister to france. his conduct has proved that the opinion i had formed of that appointment was well founded. i wrote that opinion to mr. jefferson at the time, and i was frank enough to say the same thing to morris--_that it was an unfortunate appointment?_ his prating, insignificant pomposity, rendered him at once offensive, suspected, and ridiculous; and his total neglect of all business had so disgusted the americans, that they proposed drawing up a protest against him. he carried this neglect to such an extreme, that it was necessary to inform him of it; and i asked him one day, if he did not feel himself ashamed to take the money of the country, and do nothing for it?' but morris is so fond of profit and voluptousness, that he cares nothing about character. had he not been removed at the time he was, i think his conduct would have precipitated the two countries into a rupture; and in this case, hated _systematically_ as america is and ever will be by the british government, and at the same time suspected by france, the commerce of america would have fallen a prey to both countries. this paragraph of the original letter was omitted from the american pamphlet, probably by the prudence of mr. bache.-- _editor._ "i have just heard of gouverneur morris's appointment. it is a most unfortunate one; and, as i shall mention the same thing to him when i see him, i do not express it to you with the injunction of confidence."--paine to jefferson, feb. , .--_editor._ paine could not of course know that morris was willing that the americans, to whom he alludes, captains of captured vessels, should suffer, in order that there might be a case against france of violation of treaty, which would leave the united states free to transfer the alliance to england. see introduction to xxi.. also my "life of paine," ii., p. .--_editor._. "if the inconsistent conduct of morris exposed the interest of america to some hazard in france, the pusillanimous conduct of mr. jay in england has rendered the american government contemptible in europe. is it possible that any man who has contributed to the independence of amer-ica, and to free her from the tyranny and injustice of the british government, can read without shame and indignation the note of jay to grenville? it is a satire upon the declaration of independence, and an encouragement to the british government to treat america with contempt. at the time this minister of petitions was acting this miserable part, he had every means in his hands to enable him to have done his business as he ought. the success or failure of his mission depended upon the success or failure of the french arms. had france failed, mr. jay might have put his humble petition in his pocket, and gone home. the case happened to be otherwise, and he has sacrificed the honour and perhaps all the advantages of it, by turning petitioner. i take it for granted, that he was sent over to demand indemnification for the captured property; and, in this case, if he thought he wanted a preamble to his demand, he might have said, 'that, tho' the government of england might suppose itself under the necessity of seizing american property bound to france, yet that supposed necessity could not preclude indemnification to the proprietors, who, acting under the authority of their own government, were not accountable to any other.' "but mr. jay sets out with an implied recognition of the right of the british government to seize and condemn: for he enters his complaint against the _irregularity_ of the seizures and the condemnation, as if they were reprehensible only by not being _conformable_ to the _terms_ of the proclamation under which they were seized. instead of being the envoy of a government, he goes over like a lawyer to demand a new trial. i can hardly help thinking that grenville wrote that note himself and jay signed it; for the style of it is domestic and not diplomatic. the term, _his_ majesty, used without any descriptive epithet, always signifies the king whom the minister that speaks represents. if this sinking of the demand into a petition was a juggle between grenville and jay, to cover the indemnification, i think it will end in another juggle, that of never paying the money, and be made use of afterwards to preclude the right of demanding it: for mr. jay has virtually disowned the right _by appealing to the magnanimity of his majesty against the capturers_. he has made this magnanimous majesty the umpire in the case, and the government of the united states must abide by the decision. if, sir, i turn some part of this business into ridicule, it is to avoid the unpleasant sensation of serious indignation. "among other things which i confess i do not understand, is the proclamation of neutrality. this has always appeared to me as an assumption on the part of the executive not warranted by the constitution. but passing this over, as a disputable case, and considering it only as political, the consequence has been that of sustaining the losses of war, without the balance of reprisals. when the profession of neutrality, on the part of america, was answered by hostilities on the part of britain, the object and intention of that neutrality existed no longer; and to maintain it after this, was not only to encourage farther insults and depredations, but was an informal breach of neutrality towards france, by passively contributing to the aid of her enemy. that the government of england considered the american government as pusillanimous, is evident from the encreasing insolence of the conduct of the former towards the latter, till the affair of general wayne. she then saw that it might be possible to kick a government into some degree of spirit.( ) so far as the proclamation of neutrality was intended to prevent a dissolute spirit of privateering in america under foreign colors, it was undoubtedly laudable; but to continue it as a government neutrality, after the commerce of america was made war upon, was submission and not neutrality. i have heard so much about this thing called neutrality, that i know not if the ungenerous and dishonorable silence (for i must call it such,) that has been observed by your part of the government towards me, during my imprisonment, has not in some measure arisen from that policy. wayne's success against the indians of the six nations, , was regarded by washington also as a check on england. writing to pendleton, jan. , , he says: "there is reason to believe that the indians...._together with their abettors_; begin to see things in a different point of view." (italics mine).--_editor._ "tho' i have written you this letter, you ought not to suppose it has been an agreeable undertaking to me. on the contrary, i assure you, it has caused me some disquietude. i am sorry you have given me cause to do it; for, as i have always remembered your former friendship with pleasure, i suffer a loss by your depriving me of that sentiment. "thomas paine." that this letter was not written in very good temper, is very evident; but it was just such a letter as his conduct appeared to me to merit, and every thing on his part since has served to confirm that opinion. had i wanted a commentary on his silence, with respect to my imprisonment in france, some of his faction have furnished me with it. what i here allude to, is a publication in a philadelphia paper, copied afterwards into a new york paper, both under the patronage of the washington faction, in which the writer, still supposing me in prison in france, wonders at my lengthy respite from the scaffold; and he marks his politics still farther, by saying: "it appears, moreover, that the people of england did not relish his (thomas paine's) opinions quite so well as he expected, and that for one of his last pieces, as destructive to the peace and happiness of their country, (meaning, i suppose, the _rights of man_,) they threatened our knight-errant with such serious vengeance, that, to avoid a trip to botany bay, he fled over to france, as a less dangerous voyage." i am not refuting or contradicting the falsehood of this publication, for it is sufficiently notorious; neither am i censuring the writer: on the contrary, i thank him for the explanation he has incautiously given of the principles of the washington faction. insignificant, however, as the piece is, it was capable of having some ill effects, had it arrived in france during my imprisonment, and in the time of robespierre; and i am not uncharitable in supposing that this was one of the intentions of the writer.(*) * i know not who the writer of the piece is, but some of the americans say it is phineas bond, an american refugee, but now a british consul; and that he writes under the signature of peter skunk or peter porcupine, or some such signature.--author. this footnote probably added to the gall of porcupine's (cobbett's) "letter to the infamous tom paine, in answer to his letter to general washington" (polit. censor, dec., ), of which he (cobbett) afterwards repented. phineas bond had nothing to do with it.--editor. i have now done with mr. washington on the score of private affairs. it would have been far more agreeable to me, had his conduct been such as not to have merited these reproaches. errors or caprices of the temper can be pardoned and forgotten; but a cold deliberate crime of the heart, such as mr. washington is capable of acting, is not to be washed away. i now proceed to other matter. after jay's note to grenville arrived in paris from america, the character of every thing that was to follow might be easily foreseen; and it was upon this anticipation that _my_ letter of february the d was founded. the event has proved that i was not mistaken, except that it has been much worse than i expected. it would naturally occur to mr. washington, that the secrecy of jay's mission to england, where there was already an american minister, could not but create some suspicion in the french government; especially as the conduct of morris had been notorious, and the intimacy of mr. washington with morris was known. the character which mr. washington has attempted to act in the world, is a sort of non-describable, camelion-colored thing, called _prudence_. it is, in many cases, a substitute for principle, and is so nearly allied to hypocrisy that it easily slides into it. his genius for prudence furnished him in this instance with an expedient that served, as is the natural and general character of all expedients, to diminish the embarrassments of the moment and multiply them afterwards; for he authorized it to be made known to the french government, as a confidential matter, (mr. washington should recollect that i was a member of the convention, and had the means of knowing what i here state) he authorized it, i say, to be announced, and that for the purpose of preventing any uneasiness to france on the score of mr. jay's mission to england, that the object of that mission, and of mr. jay's authority, was restricted to that of demanding the surrender of the western posts, and indemnification for the cargoes captured in american vessels. mr. washington knows that this was untrue; and knowing this, he had good reason to himself for refusing to furnish the house of representatives with copies of the instructions given to jay, as he might suspect, among other things, that he should also be called upon for copies of instructions given to other ministers, and that, in the contradiction of instructions, his want of integrity would be detected.( ) mr. washington may now, perhaps, learn, when it is too late to be of any use to him, that a man will pass better through the world with a thousand open errors upon his back, than in being detected in _one_ sly falsehood. when one is detected, a thousand are suspected. the first account that arrived in paris of a treaty being negotiated by mr. jay, (for nobody suspected any,) came in an english newspaper, which announced that a treaty _offensive and defensive_ had been concluded between the united states of america and england. this was immediately denied by every american in paris, as an impossible thing; and though it was disbelieved by the french, it imprinted a suspicion that some underhand business was going forward.(*) at length the treaty itself arrived, and every well-affected american blushed with shame. when the british treaty had been ratified by the senate (with one stipulation) and signed by the president, the house of representatives, required to supply the means for carrying into effect, believed that its power over the supplies authorized it to check what a large majority considered an outrage on the country and on france. this was the opinion of edmund randolph (the first attorney general), of jefferson, madison, and other eminent men. the house having respectfully requested the president to send them such papers on the treaty as would not affect any existing negotiations, he refused in a message (march , ), whose tenor madison described as "improper and indelicate." he said "the assent of the house of representatives is not necessary to the validity of a treaty." the house regarded the message as menacing a serious conflict, and receded.-- _editor._ * it was the embarrassment into which the affairs and credit of america were thrown at this instant by the report above alluded to, that made it necessary to contradict it, and that by every means arising from opinion or founded upon authority. the committee of public safety, existing at that time, had agreed to the full execution, on their part, of the treaty between america and france, notwithstanding some equivocal conduct on the part of the american government, not very consistent with the good faith of an ally; but they were not in a disposition to be imposed upon by a counter- treaty. that jay had no instructions beyond the points above stated, or none that could possibly be construed to extend to the length the british treaty goes, was a matter believed in america, in england, and in france; and without going to any other source it followed naturally from the message of the president to congress, when he nominated jay upon that mission. the secretary of mr. jay came to paris soon after the treaty with england had been concluded, and brought with him a copy of mr. jay's instructions, which he offered to shew to me as _justification of jay_. i advised him, as a friend, not to shew them to anybody, and did not permit him to shew them to me. "who is it," said i to him, "that you intend to implicate as censureable by shewing those instructions? perhaps that implication may fall upon your own government." though i did not see the instructions, i could not be at a loss to understand that the american administration had been playing a double game.--author. that there was a "double game" in this business, from first to last, is now a fact of history. jay was confirmed by the senate on a declaration of the president in which no faintest hint of a treaty was given, but only the "adjustment of our complaints," "vindication of our rights," and cultivation of "peace." only after the envoy's confirmation did the cabinet add the main thing, his authority to negotiate a commercial treaty. this was done against the protest of the only lawyer among them, edmund randolph, secretary of state, who said the exercise of such a power by jay would be an abridgment of the rights of the senate and of the nation. see my "life of randolph," p. . for jay's instructions, etc., see i. am. state papers, foreign relations.--editor. it is curious to observe, how the appearance of characters will change, whilst the root that produces them remains the same. the washington faction having waded through the slough of negociation, and whilst it amused france with professions of friendship contrived to injure her, immediately throws off the hypocrite, and assumes the swaggering air of a bravado. the party papers of that imbecile administration were on this occasion filled with paragraphs about _sovereignty_. a paltroon may boast of his sovereign right to let another kick him, and this is the only kind of sovereignty shewn in the treaty with england. but those daring paragraphs, as timothy pickering( ) well knows, were intended for france; without whose assistance, in men, money, and ships, mr. washington would have cut but a poor figure in the american war. but of his military talents i shall speak hereafter. i mean not to enter into any discussion of any article of jay's treaty; i shall speak only upon the whole of it. it is attempted to be justified on the ground of its not being a violation of any article or articles of the treaty pre-existing with france. but the sovereign right of explanation does not lie with george washington and his man timothy; france, on her part, has, at least, an equal right: and when nations dispute, it is not so much about words as about things. a man, such as the world calls a sharper, and versed as jay must be supposed to be in the quibbles of the law, may find a way to enter into engagements, and make bargains, in such a manner as to cheat some other party, without that party being able, as the phrase is, _to take the law of him_. this often happens in the cabalistical circle of what is called law. but when this is attempted to be acted on the national scale of treaties, it is too despicable to be defended, or to be permitted to exist. yet this is the trick upon which jay's treaty is founded, so far as it has relation to the treaty pre-existing with france. it is a counter-treaty to that treaty, and perverts all the great articles of that treaty to the injury of france, and makes them operate as a bounty to england, with whom france is at war. secretary of state.--_editor._. the washington administration shews great desire that the treaty between france and the united states be preserved. nobody can doubt their sincerity upon this matter. there is not a british minister, a british merchant, or a british agent or sailor in america, that does not anxiously wish the same thing. the treaty with france serves now as a passport to supply england with naval stores and other articles of american produce, whilst the same articles, when coming to france, are made contraband or seizable by jay's treaty with england. the treaty with france says, that neutral ships make neutral property, and thereby gives protection to english property on board american ships; and jay's treaty delivers up french property on board american ships to be seized by the english. it is too paltry to talk of faith, of national honour, and of the preservation of treaties, whilst such a bare-faced treachery as this stares the world in the face. the washington administration may save itself the trouble of proving to the french government its _most faithful_ intentions of preserving the treaty with france; for france has now no desire that it should be preserved. she had nominated an envoy extraordinary to america, to make mr. washington and his government a present of the treaty, and to have no more to do with _that_, or with _him_. it was at the same time officially declared to the american minister at paris, _that the french republic had rather have the american government for an open enemy than a treacherous friend_. this, sir, together with the internal distractions caused in america, and the loss of character in the world, is the _eventful crisis_, alluded to in the beginning of this letter, to which your double politics have brought the affairs of your country. it is time that the eyes of america be opened upon you. how france would have conducted herself towards america and american commerce, after all treaty stipulations had ceased, and under the sense of services rendered and injuries received, i know not. it is, however, an unpleasant reflection, that in all national quarrels, the innocent, and even the friendly part of the community, become involved with the culpable and the unfriendly; and as the accounts that arrived from america continued to manifest an invariable attachment in the general mass of the people to their original ally, in opposition to the new-fangled washington faction,--the resolutions that had been taken in france were suspended. it happened also, fortunately enough, that gouverneur morris was not minister at this time. there is, however, one point that still remains in embryo, and which, among other things, serves to shew the ignorance of washington treaty-makers, and their inattention to preexisting treaties, when they were employing themselves in framing or ratifying the new treaty with england. the second article of the treaty of commerce between the united states and france says: "the most christian king and the united states engage mutually, not to grant any particular favour to other nations in respect of commerce and navigation that shall not immediately become common to the other party, who shall enjoy the same favour freely, if the concession was freely made, or on allowing the same compensation if the concession was conditional." all the concessions, therefore, made to england by jay's treaty are, through the medium of this second article in the pre-existing treaty, made to france, and become engrafted into the treaty with france, and can be exercised by her as a matter of right, the same as by england. jay's treaty makes a concession to england, and that unconditionally, of seizing naval stores in american ships, and condemning them as contraband. it makes also a concession to england to seize provisions and _other articles_ in american ships. _other articles are all other articles_, and none but an ignoramus, or something worse, would have put such a phrase into a treaty. the condition annexed in this case is, that the provisions and other articles so seized, are to be paid for at a price to be agreed upon. mr. washington, as president, ratified this treaty after he knew the british government had recommended an indiscriminate seizure of provisions and all other articles in american ships; and it is now known that those seizures were made to fit out the expedition going to quiberon bay, and it was known before hand that they would be made. the evidence goes also a good way to prove that jay and grenville understood each other upon that subject. mr. pinckney,( ) when he passed through france on his way to spain, spoke of the recommencement of the seizures as a thing that would take place. gen. thomas pinckney, u. s. minister to england.-- _editor._ the french government had by some means received information from london to the same purpose, with the addition, that the recommencement of the seizures would cause no misunderstanding between the british and american governments. grenville, in defending himself against the opposition in parliament, on account of the scarcity of corn, said (see his speech at the opening of the parliament that met october , ) that _the supplies for the quiberon expedition were furnished out of the american ships_, and all the accounts received at that time from england stated that those seizures were made under the treaty. after the supplies for the quiberon expedition had been procured, and the expected success had failed, the seizures were countermanded; and had the french seized provision vessels going to england, it is probable that the quiberon expedition could not have been attempted. in one point of view, the treaty with england operates as a loan to the english government. it gives permission to that government to take american property at sea, to any amount, and pay for it when it suits her; and besides this, the treaty is in every point of view a surrender of the rights of american commerce and navigation, and a refusal to france of the rights of neutrality. the american flag is not now a neutral flag to france; jay's treaty of surrender gives a monopoly of it to england. on the contrary, the treaty of commerce between america and france was formed on the most liberal principles, and calculated to give the greatest encouragement to the infant commerce of america. france was neither a carrier nor an exporter of naval stores or of provisions. those articles belonged wholly to america, and they had all the protection in that treaty which a treaty could give. but so much has that treaty been perverted, that the liberality of it on the part of france, has served to encourage jay to form a counter-treaty with england; for he must have supposed the hands of france tied up by her treaty with america, when he was making such large concessions in favour of england. the injury which mr. washington's administration has done to the character as well as to the commerce of america, is too great to be repaired by him. foreign nations will be shy of making treaties with a government that has given the faithless example of perverting the liberality of a former treaty to the injury of the party with whom it was made.( ) for an analysis of the british treaty see wharton's "digest of the international law of the united states," vol. it, § a. paine's analysis is perfectly correct.-- _editor._. in what a fraudulent light must mr. washington's character appear in the world, when his declarations and his conduct are compared together! here follows the letter he wrote to the committee of public safety, while jay was negotiating in profound secrecy this treacherous treaty: "george washington, president of the united states of america, to the representatives of the french people, members of the committee of public safety of the french republic, the great and good friend and ally of the united states. "on the intimation of the wish of the french republic that à new minister should be sent from the united states, i resolved to manifest my sense of the readiness with which _my_ request was fulfilled, [that of recalling genet,] by immediately fulfilling the request of your government, [that of recalling morris]. "it was some time before a character could be obtained, worthy of the high office of expressing the attachment of the united states to the happiness of our allies, _and drawing closer the bonds of our friendship_. i have now made choice of james monroe, one of our distinguished citizens, to reside near the french republic, in quality of minister plenipotentiary of the united states of america. he is instructed to bear to you our _sincere solicitude for your welfare, and to cultivate with teal the cordiality so happily subsisting between us_. from a knowledge of his fidelity, probity, and good conduct, i have entire confidence that he will render himself acceptable to you, and give effect to your desire of preserving and _advancing, on all occasions, the interest and connection of the two nations_. i beseech you, therefore, to give full credence to whatever he shall say to you on the part of the united states, and _most of all, when he shall assure you that your prosperity is an object of our affection_. "and i pray god to have the french republic in his holy keeping. "g. washington." was it by entering into a treaty with england to surrender french property on board american ships to be seized by the english, while english property on board american ships was declared by the french treaty not to be seizable, _that the bonds of friendship between america and france were to be drawn the closer?_ was it by declaring naval stores contraband when coming to france, whilst by the french treaty they were not contraband when going to england, that the _connection between france and america was to be advanced?_ was it by opening the american ports to the british navy in the present war, from which ports the same navy had been expelled by the aid solicited from france in the american war (and that aid gratuitously given) ( ) that the gratitude of america was to be shewn, and the _solicitude_ spoken of in the letter demonstrated? the italics are paine's. paine's free use of this document suggests that he possessed the confidence of the french directory.--_editor._ it is notable that paine adheres to his old contention in his controversy with deane. see vol. i., ch. aa of this work; and vol. i., ch. of my "life of paine."--_editor._. as the letter was addressed to the committee of public safety, mr. washington did not expect it would get abroad in the world, or be seen by any other eye than that of robespierre, or be heard by any other ear than that of the committee; that it would pass as a whisper across the atlantic, from one dark chamber to the other, and there terminate. it was calculated to remove from the mind of the committee all suspicion upon jay's mission to england, and, in this point of view, it was suited to the circumstances of the movement then passing; but as the event of that mission has proved the letter to be hypocritical, it serves no other purpose of the present moment than to shew that the writer is not to be credited. two circumstances serve to make the reading of the letter necessary in the convention. the one was, that they who succeeded on the fall of robespierre, found it most proper to act with publicity; the other, to extinguish the suspicions which the strange conduct of morris had occasioned in france. when the british treaty, and the ratification of it by mr. washington, was known in france, all further declarations from him of his good disposition as an ally and friend, passed for so many cyphers; but still it appeared necessary to him to keep up the farce of declarations. it is stipulated in the british treaty, that commissioners are to report at the end of two years, on the case of _neutral ships making neutral property_. in the mean time, neutral ships do _not_ make neutral property, according to the british treaty, and they _do_ according to the french treaty. the preservation, therefore, of the french treaty became of great importance to england, as by that means she can employ american ships as carriers, whilst the same advantage is denied to france. whether the french treaty could exist as a matter of right after this clandestine perversion of it, could not but give some apprehensions to the partizans of the british treaty, and it became necessary to them to make up, by fine words, what was wanting in good actions. an opportunity offered to that purpose. the convention, on the public reception of mr. monroe, ordered the american flag and the french flags to be displayed unitedly in the hall of the convention. mr. monroe made a present of an american flag for the purpose. the convention returned this compliment by sending a french flag to america, to be presented by their minister, mr. adet, to the american government. this resolution passed long before jay's treaty was known or suspected: it passed in the days of confidence; but the flag was not presented by mr. adet till several months after the treaty had been ratified. mr. washington made this the occasion of saying some fine things to the french minister; and the better to get himself into tune to do this, he began by saying the finest things of himself. "born, sir (said he) in a land of liberty; _having_ early learned its value; _having_ engaged in a perilous conflict to defend it; _having_, in a word, devoted the best years of my life to secure its permanent establishment in my own country; _my_ anxious recollections, my sympathetic feelings, and _my_ best wishes are irresistibly excited, whenever, in any country, i see an oppressed people unfurl the banner of freedom." mr. washington, having expended so many fine phrases upon himself, was obliged to invent a new one for the french, and he calls them "wonderful people!" the coalesced powers acknowledged as much. it is laughable to hear mr. washington talk of his _sympathetic feelings_, who has always been remarked, even among his friends, for not having any. he has, however, given no proofs of any to me. as to the pompous encomiums he so liberally pays to himself, on the score of the american revolution, the reality of them may be questioned; and since he has forced them so much into notice, it is fair to examine his pretensions. a stranger might be led to suppose, from the egotism with which mr. washington speaks, that himself, and himself only, had generated, conducted, compleated, and established the revolution: in fine, that it was all his own doing. in the first place, as to the political part, he had no share in it; and, therefore, the whole of _that_ is out of the question with respect to him. there remains, then, only the military part; and it would have been prudent in mr. washington not to have awakened enquiry upon that subject. fame then was cheap; he enjoyed it cheaply; and nobody was disposed to take away the laurels that, whether they were _acquired_ or not, had been _given_. mr. washington's merit consisted in constancy. but constancy was the common virtue of the revolution. who was there that was inconstant? i know but of one military defection, that of arnold; and i know of no political defection, among those who made themselves eminent when the revolution was formed by the declaration of independence. even silas deane, though he attempted to defraud, did not betray.( ) this generous judgment by deane's old adversary has become questionable under recent investigations.--_editor._. but when we speak of military character, something more is to be understood than constancy; and something more _ought_ to be understood than the fabian system of _doing nothing_. the _nothing_ part can be done by any body. old mrs. thompson, the housekeeper of head quarters, (who threatened to make the sun and the wind shine through rivington of new york,) 'could have done it as well as mr. washington. deborah would have been as good as barak. mr. washington had the nominal rank of commander in chief, but he was not so in fact. he had, in reality, only a separate command. he had no controul over, or direction of, the army to the northward under gates, that captured burgoyne; nor of that to the south under [nathaniel] greene, that recovered the southern states.( ) the nominal rank, however, of commander in chief, served to throw upon him the lustre of those actions, and to make him appear as the soul and centre of all military operations in america. the tory publisher of new york city, whose press was destroyed in by a mob of connecticut soldiers.-- _editor._ see mr. winterbotham's valuable history of america, lately published.--author. [the "history of the establishment of independence" is contained in the first of mr. winterbotham's four volumes (london, ).--_editor._.] he commenced his command june, , during the time the massachusetts army lay before boston, and after the affair of bunker-hill. the commencement of his command was the commencement of inactivity. nothing was afterwards done, or attempted to be done, during the nine months he remained before boston. if we may judge from the resistance made at concord, and afterwards at bunker-hill, there was a spirit of enterprise at that time, which the presence of mr. washington chilled into cold defence. by the advantage of a good exterior he attracts respect, which his habitual silence tends to preserve; but he has not the talent of inspiring ardour in an army. the enemy removed from boston in march , to wait for reinforcements from europe, and to take a more advantageous position at new york. the inactivity of the campaign of , on the part of general washington, when the enemy had a less force than in any other future period of the war, and the injudicious choice of positions taken by him in the campaign of , when the enemy had its greatest force, necessarily produced the losses and misfortunes that marked that gloomy campaign. the positions taken were either islands or necks of land. in the former, the enemy, by the aid of their ships, could bring their whole force against apart of general washington's, as in the affair of long island; and in the latter, he might be shut up as in the bottom of a bag. this had nearly been the case at new york, and it was so in part; it was actually the case at fort washington; and it would have been the case at fort lee, if general greene had not moved precipitately off, leaving every thing behind, and by gaining hackinsack bridge, got out of the bag of bergen neck. how far mr. washington, as general, is blameable for these matters, i am not undertaking to determine; but they are evidently defects in military geography. the successful skirmishes at the close of that campaign, (matters that would scarcely be noticed in a better state of things,) make the brilliant exploits of general washington's seven campaigns. no wonder we see so much pusillanimity in the president, when we see so little enterprise in the general! the campaign of became famous, not by anything on the part of general washington, but by the capture of general burgoyne, and the army under his command, by the northern army at saratoga, under general gates. so totally distinct and unconnected were the two armies of washington and gates, and so independent was the latter of the authority of the nominal commander in chief, that the two generals did not so much as correspond, and it was only by a letter of general (since governor) clinton, that general washington was informed of that event. the british took possession of philadelphia this year, which they evacuated the next, just time enough to save their heavy baggage and fleet of transports from capture by the french admiral d'estaing, who arrived at the mouth of the delaware soon after. the capture of burgoyne gave an eclat in europe to the american arms, and facilitated the alliance with france. the eclat, however, was not kept up by any thing on the part of general washington. the same unfortunate languor that marked his entrance into the field, continued always. discontent began to prevail strongly against him, and a party was formed in congress, whilst sitting at york-town, in pennsylvania, for removing him from the command of the army. the hope, however, of better times, the news of the alliance with france, and the unwillingness of shewing discontent, dissipated the matter. nothing was done in the campaigns of , , , in the part where general washington commanded, except the taking of stony point by general wayne. the southern states in the mean time were over-run by the enemy. they were afterwards recovered by general greene, who had in a very great measure created the army that accomplished that recovery. in all this general washington had no share. the fabian system of war, followed by him, began now to unfold itself with all its evils; but what is fabian war without fabian means to support it? the finances of congress depending wholly on emissions of paper money, were exhausted. its credit was gone. the continental treasury was not able to pay the expense of a brigade of waggons to transport the necessary stores to the army, and yet the sole object, the establishment of the revolution, was a thing of remote distance. the time i am now speaking of is in the latter end of the year . in this situation of things it was found not only expedient, but absolutely necessary, for congress to state the whole case to its ally. i knew more of this matter, (before it came into congress or was known to general washington) of its progress, and its issue, than i chuse to state in this letter. colonel john laurens was sent to france as an envoy extraordinary on this occasion, and by a private agreement between him and me i accompanied him. we sailed from boston in the alliance frigate, february th, . france had already done much in accepting and paying bills drawn by congress. she was now called upon to do more. the event of colonel laurens's mission, with the aid of the venerable minister, franklin, was, that france gave in money, as a present, six millions of livres, and ten millions more as a loan, and agreed to send a fleet of not less than thirty sail of the line, at her own expense, as an aid to america. colonel laurens and myself returned from brest the st of june following, taking with us two millions and a half of livres (upwards of one hundred thousand pounds sterling) of the money given, and convoying two ships with stores. we arrived at boston the th of august following. de grasse arrived with the french fleet in the chesapeak at the same time, and was afterwards joined by that of barras, making sail of the line. the money was transported in waggons from boston to the bank at philadelphia, of which mr. thomas willing, who has since put himself at the head of the list of petitioners in favour of the british treaty, was then president. and it was by the aid of this money, and this fleet, and of rochambeau's army, that cornwallis was taken; the laurels of which have been unjustly given to mr. washington. his merit in that affair was no more than that of any other american officer. i have had, and still have, as much pride in the american revolution as any man, or as mr. washington has a right to have; but that pride has never made me forgetful whence the great aid came that compleated the business. foreign aid (that of france) was calculated upon at the commencement of the revolution. it is one of the subjects treated of in the pamphlet _common sense_, but as a matter that could not be hoped for, unless independence was declared. the aid, however, was greater than could have been expected. it is as well the ingratitude as the pusillanimity of mr. washington, and the washington faction, that has brought upon america the loss of character she now suffers in the world, and the numerous evils her commerce has undergone, and to which it is yet exposed. the british ministry soon found out what sort of men they had to deal with, and they dealt with them accordingly; and if further explanation was wanting, it has been fully given since, in the snivelling address of the new york chamber of commerce to the president, and in that of sundry merchants of philadelphia, which was not much better. see vol. i. of this work, p. ixx. paine was sharply taken to task on this point by "cato." ib.% pp. - .-- _editor._. when the revolution of america was finally established by the termination of the war, the world gave her credit for great character; and she had nothing to do but to stand firm upon that ground. the british ministry had their hands too full of trouble to have provoked a rupture with her, had she shown a proper resolution to defend her rights. but encouraged as they were by the submissive character of the american administration, they proceeded from insult to insult, till none more were left to be offered. the proposals made by sweden and denmark to the american administration were disregarded. i know not if so much as an answer has been returned to them. the minister penitentiary, (as some of the british prints called him,) mr. jay, was sent on a pilgrimage to london, to make up all by penance and petition. in the mean time the lengthy and drowsy writer of the pieces signed _camillas_ held himself in reserve to vindicate every thing; and to sound in america the tocsin of terror upon the inexhaustible resources of england. her resources, says he, are greater than those of all the other powers. this man is so intoxicated with fear and finance, that he knows not the difference between _plus_ and _minus_--between a hundred pounds in hand, and a hundred pounds worse than nothing. the commerce of america, so far as it had been established by all the treaties that had been formed prior to that by jay, was free, and the principles upon which it was established were good. that ground ought never to have been departed from. it was the justifiable ground of right, and no temporary difficulties ought to have induced an abandonment of it. the case is now otherwise. the ground, the scene, the pretensions, the everything, are changed. the commerce of america is, by jay's treaty, put under foreign dominion. the sea is not free for her. her right to navigate it is reduced to the right of escaping; that is, until some ship of england or france stops her vessels, and carries them into port. every article of american produce, whether from the sea or the sand, fish, flesh, vegetable, or manufacture, is, by jay's treaty, made either contraband or seizable. nothing is exempt. in all other treaties of commerce, the article which enumerates the contraband articles, such as fire arms, gunpowder, &c, is followed by another article which enumerates the articles not contraband: but it is not so in jay's treaty. there is no exempting article. its place is supplied by the article for seizing and carrying into port; and the sweeping phrase of "provisions and _other articles _" includes every thing. there never was such a base and servile treaty of surrender since treaties began to exist. this is the ground upon which america now stands. all her rights of commerce and navigation are to begin anew, and that with loss of character to begin with. if there is sense enough left in the heart to call a blush into the cheek, the washington administration must be ashamed to appear.--and as to you, sir, treacherous in private friendship (for so you have been to me, and that in the day of danger) and a hypocrite in public life, the world will be puzzled to decide whether you are an apostate or an impostor; whether you have abandoned good principles, or whether you ever had any. thomas paine. xxiii. observations.( ) state archives, paris, États unis, vol. , fol. . undated, but evidently written early in the year , when jay's treaty was as yet unknown. paine was then staying in the house of the american minister, monroe.--' editor, the united states of america are negociating with spain respecting the free navigation of the mississippi, and the territorial limits of this large river, in conformity with the treaty of peace with england dated th november, . as the brilliant successes of the french republic have forced england to grant us, what was in all justice our due, so the continuation of the prosperity of the republic, will force spain to make a treaty with us on the points in controversy. since it is certain that all that we shall obtain from spain will be due to the victories of france, and as the inhabitants of the western part of the united states (which part contains or covers more than half the united states), have decided to claim their rights to the free navigation of the mississippi, would it not be a wiser policy for the republican government (who have only to command to obtain) to arrogate all the merit, by making our demands to spain, one of the conditions, of france, to consent to restore peace to the castilians. they have only to declare, they will not make peace, or that they will support with all their might, the just reclamations of their allies against these powers,--against england for the surrender of the frontier posts, and for the indemnities due through their depredations on our trade, and against spain for our territorial limits, and the free navigation of the mississippi. this declaration would certainly not prolong the war a single day more, nor cost the republic an obole, whilst it would assure all the merit of success to france, and besides produce all the good effects mentioned above. it may perhaps be observed that the negociation is already finished with england, and perhaps in a manner which will not be approved of by france. that may be, (though the terms of this arrangement may not be known); but as to spain, the negociation is still pending, and it is evident that if france makes the above _declaration_ as to this power (which declaration would be a demonstrative proof of what she would have done in the other case if circumstances had required it), she would receive the same credit as if the declaration had been made relatively to the two powers. in fact the decree or resolution (and perhaps this last would be preferable) can be worded in terms which would declare that in case the arrangement with england were not satisfactory, france will nevertheless, maintain the just demands of america against that power. a like declaration, in case mr. jay should do anything reprehensible, and which might even be approved of in america, would certainly raise the reputation of the french republic to the most eminent degree of splendour, and lower in proportion that of her enemies. it is very certain that france cannot better favour the views of the british party in america, and wound in a most sensible manner the republican government of this country, than by adopting a strict and oppressive policy with regard to us. every one knows that the injustices committed by the privateers and other ships belonging to the french republic against our navigation, were causes of exultation and joy to this party, even when their own properties were subjected to these depredations, whilst the friends of france and the revolution were vexed and most confused about it. it follows then, that a generous policy would produce quite opposite effects--it would acquire for france the merit that is her due; it would discourage the hopes of her adversaries, and furnish the friends of humanity and liberty with the means of acting against the intrigues of england, and cement the union, and contribute towards the true interests of the two republics. so sublime and generous a manner of acting, which would not cost anything to france, would cement in a stronger way the ties between the two republics. the effect of such an event, would confound and annihilate in an irrevocable manner all the partisans for the british in america. there are nineteen twentieths of our nation attached through inclination and gratitude to france, and the small number who seek uselessly all sorts of pretexts to magnify the small occasions of complaint which might have subsisted previously will find itself reduced to silence, or have to join their expressions of gratitude to ours.--the results of this event cannot be doubted, though not reckoned on: all the american hearts will be french, and england will be afflicted. an american. xxiv. dissertation on first principles of government. ( ) printed from the first edition, whose title is as above, with the addition: "by thomas paine, author of common sense; rights of man; age of reason. paris, printed at the english press, me de vaugerard, no. . third year of the french republic." the pamphlet seems to have appeared early in july (perhaps the fourth), , and was meant to influence the decision of the national convention on the constitution then under discussion. this constitution, adopted september d, presently swept away by napoleon, contained some features which appeared to paine reactionary. those to which he most objected are quoted by him in his speech in the convention, which is bound up in the same pamphlet, and follows this "dissertation" in the present volume. in the constitution as adopted paine's preference for a plural executive was established, and though the bicameral organization (the council of five hundred and the council of ancients) was not such as he desired, his chief objection was based on his principle of manhood suffrage. but in regard to this see paine's "dissertations on government," written nine years before (vol. ii., ch. vi. of this work), and especially p. seq. of that volume, where he indicates the method of restraining the despotism of numbers.--_editor._, there is no subject more interesting to every man than the subject of government. his security, be he rich or poor, and in a great measure his prosperity, are connected therewith; it is therefore his interest as well as his duty to make himself acquainted with its principles, and what the practice ought to be. every art and science, however imperfectly known at first, has been studied, improved, and brought to what we call perfection by the progressive labours of succeeding generations; but the science of government has stood still. no improvement has been made in the principle and scarcely any in the practice till the american revolution began. in all the countries of europe (except in france) the same forms and systems that were erected in the remote ages of ignorance still continue, and their antiquity is put in the place of principle; it is forbidden to investigate their origin, or by what right they exist. if it be asked how has this happened, the answer is easy: they are established on a principle that is false, and they employ their power to prevent detection. notwithstanding the mystery with which the science of government has been enveloped, for the purpose of enslaving, plundering, and imposing upon mankind, it is of all things the least mysterious and the most easy to be understood. the meanest capacity cannot be at a loss, if it begins its enquiries at the right point. every art and science has some point, or alphabet, at which the study of that art or science begins, and by the assistance of which the progress is facilitated. the same method ought to be observed with respect to the science of government. instead then of embarrassing the subject in the outset with the numerous subdivisions under which different forms of government have been classed, such as aristocracy, democracy, oligarchy, monarchy, &c. the better method will be to begin with what may be called primary divisions, or those under which all the several subdivisions will be comprehended. the primary divisions are but two: first, government by election and representation. secondly, government by hereditary succession. all the several forms and systems of government, however numerous or diversified, class themselves under one or other of those primary divisions; for either they are on the system of representation, or on that of hereditary succession. as to that equivocal thing called mixed government, such as the late government of holland, and the present government of england, it does not make an exception to the general rule, because the parts separately considered are either representative or hereditary. beginning then our enquiries at this point, we have first to examine into the nature of those two primary divisions. if they are equally right in principle, it is mere matter of opinion which we prefer. if the one be demonstratively better than the other, that difference directs our choice; but if one of them should be so absolutely false as not to have a right to existence, the matter settles itself at once; because a negative proved on one thing, where two only are offered, and one must be accepted, amounts to an affirmative on the other. the revolutions that are now spreading themselves in the world have their origin in this state of the case, and the present war is a conflict between the representative system founded on the rights of the people, and the hereditary system founded in usurpation. as to what are called monarchy, royalty, and aristocracy, they do not, either as things or as terms, sufficiently describe the hereditary system; they are but secondary things or signs of the hereditary system, and which fall of themselves if that system has not a right to exist. were there no such terms as monarchy, royalty, and aristocracy, or were other terms substituted in their place, the hereditary system, if it continued, would not be altered thereby. it would be the same system under any other titulary name as it is now. the character therefore of the revolutions of the present day distinguishes itself most definitively by grounding itself on the system of representative government, in opposition to the hereditary. no other distinction reaches the whole of the principle. having thus opened the case generally, i proceed, in the first place, to examine the hereditary system, because it has the priority in point of time. the representative system is the invention of the modern world; and, that no doubt may arise as to my own opinion, i declare it before hand, which is, _that there is not a problem in euclid more mathematically true, than that hereditary government has not a right to exist. when therefore we take from any man the exercise of hereditary power, we take away that which he never had the right to possess, and which no law or custom could, or ever can, give him a title to_. the arguments that have hitherto been employed against the hereditary system have been chiefly founded upon the absurdity of it, and its incompetency to the purpose of good government. nothing can present to our judgment, or to our imagination, a figure of greater absurdity, than that of seeing the government of a nation fall, as it frequently does, into the hands of a lad necessarily destitute of experience, and often little better than a fool. it is an insult to every man of years, of character, and of talents, in a country. the moment we begin to reason upon the hereditary system, it falls into derision; let but a single idea begin, and a thousand will soon follow. insignificance, imbecility, childhood, dotage, want of moral character; in fine, every defect serious or laughable unite to hold up the hereditary system as a figure of ridicule. leaving, however, the ridiculousness of the thing to the reflections of the reader, i proceed to the more important part of the question, namely, whether such a system has a right to exist. to be satisfied of the right of a thing to exist, we must be satisfied that it had a right to begin. if it had not a right to begin, it has not a right to continue. by what right then did the hereditary system begin? let a man but ask himself this question, and he will find that he cannot satisfy himself with an answer. the right which any man or any family had to set itself up at first to govern a nation, and to establish itself hereditarily, was no other than the right which robespierre had to do the same thing in france. if he had none, they had none. if they had any, he had as much; for it is impossible to discover superiority of right in any family, by virtue of which hereditary government could begin. the capets, the guelphs, the robespierres, the marats, are all on the same standing as to the question of right. it belongs exclusively to none. it is one step towards liberty, to perceive that hereditary government could not begin as an exclusive right in any family. the next point will be, whether, having once begun, it could grow into a right by the influence of time. this would be supposing an absurdity; for either it is putting time in the place of principle, or making it superior to principle; whereas time has no more connection with, or influence upon principle, than principle has upon time. the wrong which began a thousand years ago, is as much a wrong as if it began to-day; and the right which originates to-day, is as much a right as if it had the sanction of a thousand years. time with respect to principles is an eternal now: it has no operation upon them: it changes nothing of their nature and qualities. but what have we to do with a thousand years? our life-time is but a short portion of that period, and if we find the wrong in existence as soon as we begin to live, that is the point of time at which it begins to us; and our right to resist it is the same as if it never existed before. as hereditary government could not begin as a natural right in any family, nor derive after its commencement any right from time, we have only to examine whether there exist in a nation a right to set it up, and establish it by what is called law, as has been done in england. i answer no; and that any law or any constitution made for that purpose is an act of treason against the right of every minor in the nation, at the time it is made, and against the rights of all succeeding generations. i shall speak upon each of those cases. first, of the minor at the time such law is made. secondly, of the generations that are to follow. a nation, in a collective sense, comprehends all the individuals of whatever age, from just born to just dying. of these, one part will be minors, and the other aged. the average of life is not exactly the same in every climate and country, but in general, the minority in years are the majority in numbers; that is, the number of persons under twenty-one years, is greater than the number of persons above that age. this difference in number is not necessary to the establishment of the principle i mean to lay down, but it serves to shew the justice of it more strongly. the principle would be equally as good, if the majority in years were also the majority in numbers. the rights of minors are as sacred as the rights of the aged. the difference is altogether in the different age of the two parties, and nothing in the nature of the rights; the rights are the same rights; and are to be preserved inviolate for the inheritance of the minors when they shall come of age. during the minority of minors their rights are under the sacred guardianship of the aged. the minor cannot surrender them; the guardian cannot dispossess him; consequently, the aged part of a nation, who are the law-makers for the time being, and who, in the march of life are but a few years ahead of those who are yet minors, and to whom they must shortly give place, have not and cannot have the right to make a law to set up and establish hereditary government, or, to speak more distinctly, _an hereditary succession of governors_; because it is an attempt to deprive every minor in the nation, at the time such a law is made, of his inheritance of rights when he shall come of age, and to subjugate him to a system of government to which, during his minority, he could neither consent nor object. if a person who is a minor at the time such a law is proposed, had happened to have been born a few years sooner, so as to be of the age of twenty-one years at the time of proposing it, his right to have objected against it, to have exposed the injustice and tyrannical principles of it, and to have voted against it, will be admitted on all sides. if, therefore, the law operates to prevent his exercising the same rights after he comes of age as he would have had a right to exercise had he been of age at the time, it is undeniably a law to take away and annul the rights of every person in the nation who shall be a minor at the time of making such a law, and consequently the right to make it cannot exist. i come now to speak of government by hereditary succession, as it applies to succeeding generations; and to shew that in this case, as in the case of minors, there does not exist in a nation a right to set it up. a nation, though continually existing, is continually in a state of renewal and succession. it is never stationary. every day produces new births, carries minors forward to maturity, and old persons from the stage. in this ever running flood of generations there is no part superior in authority to another. could we conceive an idea of superiority in any, at what point of time, or in what century of the world, are we to fix it? to what cause are we to ascribe it? by what evidence are we to prove it? by what criterion are we to know it? a single reflection will teach us that our ancestors, like ourselves, were but tenants for life in the great freehold of rights. the fee-absolute was not in them, it is not in us, it belongs to the whole family of man, thro* all ages. if we think otherwise than this, we think either as slaves or as tyrants. as slaves, if we think that any former generation had a right to bind us; as tyrants, if we think that we have authority to bind the generations that are to follow. it may not be inapplicable to the subject, to endeavour to define what is to be understood by a generation, in the sense the word is here used. as a natural term its meaning is sufficiently clear. the father, the son, the grandson, are so many distinct generations. but when we speak of a generation as describing the persons in whom legal authority resides, as distinct from another generation of the same description who are to succeed them, it comprehends all those who are above the age of twenty-one years, at the time that we count from; and a generation of this kind will continue in authority between fourteen and twenty-one years, that is, until the number of minors, who shall have arrived at age, shall be greater than the number of persons remaining of the former stock. for example: if france, at this or any other moment, contains twenty-four millions of souls, twelve millions will be males, and twelve females. of the twelve millions of males, six millions will be of the age of twenty-one years, and six will be under, and the authority to govern will reside in the first six. but every day will make some alteration, and in twenty-one years every one of those minors who survives will have arrived at age, and the greater part of the former stock will be gone: the majority of persons then living, in whom the legal authority resides, will be composed of those who, twenty-one years before, had no legal existence. those will be fathers and grandfathers in their turn, and, in the next twenty-one years, (or less) another race of minors, arrived at age, will succeed them, and so on. as this is ever the case, and as every generation is equal in rights to another, it consequently follows, that there cannot be a right in any to establish government by hereditary succession, because it would be supposing itself possessed of a right superior to the rest, namely, that of commanding by its own authority how the world shall be hereafter governed and who shall govern it. every age and generation is, and must be, (as a matter of right,) as free to act for itself in all cases, as the age and generation that preceded it. the vanity and presumption of governing beyond the grave is the most ridiculous and insolent of all tyrannies. man has no property in man, neither has one generation a property in the generations that are to follow. in the first part of the rights of man i have spoken of government by hereditary succession; and i will here close the subject with an extract from that work, which states it under the two following heads. ( ) the quotation, here omitted, will be found in vol. ii. of this work, beginning with p. , and continuing, with a few omissions, to the th line of p. . this "dissertation" was originally written for circulation in holland, where paine's "rights of man" was not well known.--_editor._ ***** the history of the english parliament furnishes an example of this kind; and which merits to be recorded, as being the greatest instance of legislative ignorance and want of principle that is to be found in any country. the case is as follows: the english parliament of , imported a man and his wife from holland, _william and mary_, and made them king and queen of england. ( ) having done this, the said parliament made a law to convey the government of the country to the heirs of william and mary, in the following words: "we, the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons, do, in the name of the people of england, most humbly and faithfully submit _ourselves, our heirs, and posterities_, to william and mary, _their heirs and posterities_, for ever." and in a subsequent law, as quoted by edmund burke, the said parliament, in the name of the people of england then living, _binds the said people, their heirs and posterities, to william and mary, their heirs and posterities, to the end of time_. "the bill of rights (temp. william iii.) shows that the lords and commons met not in parliament but in convention, that they declared against james ii., and in favour of william iii. the latter was accepted as sovereign, and, when monarch. acta of parliament were passed confirming what had been done."--joseph fisher in notes and queries (london), may , . this does not affect paine's argument, as a convention could have no more right to bind the future than a parliament.--_editor._. it is not sufficient that we laugh at the ignorance of such law-makers; it is necessary that we reprobate their want of principle. the constituent assembly of france, , fell into the same vice as the parliament of england had done, and assumed to establish an hereditary succession in the family of the capets, as an act of the constitution of that year. that every nation, _for the time being_, has a right to govern itself as it pleases, must always be admitted; but government by hereditary succession is government for another race of people, and not for itself; and as those on whom it is to operate are not yet in existence, or are minors, so neither is the right in existence to set it up for them, and to assume such a right is treason against the right of posterity. i here close the arguments on the first head, that of government by hereditary succession; and proceed to the second, that of government by election and representation; or, as it may be concisely expressed, _representative government_, in contra-distinction to _hereditary government_. reasoning by exclusion, if _hereditary government_ has not a right to exist, and that it has not is proveable, _representative government_ is admitted of course. in contemplating government by election and representation, we amuse not ourselves in enquiring when or how, or by what right, it began. its origin is ever in view. man is himself the origin and the evidence of the right. it appertains to him in right of his existence, and his person is the title deed.( ) the true and only true basis of representative government is equality of rights. every man has a right to one vote, and no more, in the choice of representatives. the rich have no more right to exclude the poor from the right of voting, or of electing and being elected, than the poor have to exclude the rich; and wherever it is attempted, or proposed, on either side, it is a question of force and not of right. who is he that would exclude another? that other has a right to exclude him. that which is now called aristocracy implies an inequality of rights; but who are the persons that have a right to establish this inequality? will the rich exclude themselves? no. will the poor exclude themselves? no. by what right then can any be excluded? it would be a question, if any man or class of men have a right to exclude themselves; but, be this as it may, they cannot have the right to exclude another. the poor will not delegate such a right to the rich, nor the rich to the poor, and to assume it is not only to assume arbitrary power, but to assume a right to commit robbery. personal rights, of which the right of voting for representatives is one, are a species of property of the most sacred kind: and he that would employ his pecuniary property, or presume upon the influence it gives him, to dispossess or rob another of his property of rights, uses that pecuniary property as he would use fire-arms, and merits to have it taken from him. "the sacred rights of mankind are not to be rummaged for among old parchments or musty records. they are written as with a sunbeam in the whole volume of human nature by the hand of divinity itself, and can never be erased or obscured by mortal power."--alexander hamilton, . (cf. rights of man, toi. ii., p. ): "portions of antiquity by proving everything establish nothing. it is authority against authority all the way, till we come to the divine origin of the rights of man at the creation."--_editor._. inequality of rights is created by a combination in one part of the community to exclude another part from its rights. whenever it be made an article of a constitution, or a law, that the right of voting, or of electing and being elected, shall appertain exclusively to persons possessing a certain quantity of property, be it little or much, it is a combination of the persons possessing that quantity to exclude those who do not possess the same quantity. it is investing themselves with powers as a self-created part of society, to the exclusion of the rest. it is always to be taken for granted, that those who oppose an equality of rights never mean the exclusion should take place on themselves; and in this view of the case, pardoning the vanity of the thing, aristocracy is a subject of laughter. this self-soothing vanity is encouraged by another idea not less selfish, which is, that the opposers conceive they are playing a safe game, in which there is a chance to gain and none to lose; that at any rate the doctrine of equality includes _them_, and that if they cannot get more rights than those whom they oppose and would exclude, they shall not have less. this opinion has already been fatal to thousands, who, not contented with _equal rights_, have sought more till they lost all, and experienced in themselves the degrading _inequality_ they endeavoured to fix upon others. in any view of the case it is dangerous and impolitic, sometimes ridiculous, and always unjust, to make property the criterion of the right of voting. if the sum or value of the property upon which the right is to take place be considerable, it will exclude a majority of the people, and unite them in a common interest against the government and against those who support it; and as the power is always with the majority, they can overturn such a government and its supporters whenever they please. if, in order to avoid this danger, a small quantity of property be fixed, as the criterion of the right, it exhibits liberty in disgrace, by putting it in competition with accident and insignificance. when a brood-mare shall fortunately produce a foal or a mule that, by being worth the sum in question, shall convey to its owner the right of voting, or by its death take it from him, in whom does the origin of such a right exist? is it in the man, or in the mule? when we consider how many ways property may be acquired without merit, and lost without a crime, we ought to spurn the idea of making it a criterion of rights. but the offensive part of the case is, that this exclusion from the right of voting implies a stigma on the moral char* acter of the persons excluded; and this is what no part of the community has a right to pronounce upon another part. no external circumstance can justify it: wealth is no proof of moral character; nor poverty of the want of it. on the contrary, wealth is often the presumptive evidence of dishonesty; and poverty the negative evidence of innocence. if therefore property, whether little or much, be made a criterion, the means by which that property has been acquired ought to be made a criterion also. the only ground upon which exclusion from the right of voting is consistent with justice, would be to inflict it as a punishment for a certain time upon those who should propose to take away that right from others. the right of voting for representatives is the primary right by which other rights are protected. to take away this right is to reduce a man to slavery, for slavery consists in being subject to the will of another, and he that has not a vote in the election of representatives is in this case. the proposal therefore to disfranchise any class of men is as criminal as the proposal to take away property. when we speak of right, we ought always to unite with it the idea of duties: rights become duties by reciprocity. the right which i enjoy becomes my duty to guarantee it to another, and he to me; and those who violate the duty justly incur a forfeiture of the right. in a political view of the case, the strength and permanent security of government is in proportion to the number of people interested in supporting it. the true policy therefore is to interest the whole by an equality of rights, for the danger arises from exclusions. it is possible to exclude men from the right of voting, but it is impossible to exclude them from the right of rebelling against that exclusion; and when all other rights are taken away, the right of rebellion is made perfect. while men could be persuaded they had no rights, or that rights appertained only to a certain class of men, or that government was a thing existing in right of itself, it was not difficult to govern them authoritatively. the ignorance in which they were held, and the superstition in which they were instructed, furnished the means of doing it. but when the ignorance is gone, and the superstition with it; when they perceive the imposition that has been acted upon them; when they reflect that the cultivator and the manufacturer are the primary means of all the wealth that exists in the world, beyond what nature spontaneously produces; when they begin to feel their consequence by their usefulness, and their right as members of society, it is then no longer possible to govern them as before. the fraud once detected cannot be re-acted. to attempt it is to provoke derision, or invite destruction. that property will ever be unequal is certain. industry, superiority of talents, dexterity of management, extreme frugality, fortunate opportunities, or the opposite, or the means of those things, will ever produce that effect, without having recourse to the harsh, ill sounding names of avarice and oppression; and besides this, there are some men who, though they do not despise wealth, will not stoop to the drudgery or the means of acquiring it, nor will be troubled with it beyond their wants or their independence; whilst in others there is an avidity to obtain it by every means not punishable; it makes the sole business of their lives, and they follow it as a religion. all that is required with respect to property is to obtain it honestly, and not employ it criminally; but it is always criminally employed when it is made a criterion for exclusive rights. in institutions that are purely pecuniary, such as that of a bank or a commercial company, the rights of the members composing that company are wholly created by the property they invest therein; and no other rights are represented in the government of that company, than what arise out of that property; neither has that government cognizance of _any thing but property_. but the case is totally different with respect to the institution of civil government, organized on the system of representation. such a government has cognizance of every thing, and of _every man_ as a member of the national society, whether he has property or not; and, therefore, the principle requires that _every man_, and _every kind of right_, be represented, of which the right to acquire and to hold property is but one, and that not of the most essential kind. the protection of a man's person is more sacred than the protection of property; and besides this, the faculty of performing any kind of work or services by which he acquires a livelihood, or maintaining his family, is of the nature of property. it is property to him; he has acquired it; and it is as much the object of his protection as exterior property, possessed without that faculty, can be the object of protection in another person. i have always believed that the best security for property, be it much or little, is to remove from every part of the community, as far as can possibly be done, every cause of complaint, and every motive to violence; and this can only be done by an equality of rights. when rights are secure, property is secure in consequence. but when property is made a pretence for unequal or exclusive rights, it weakens the right to hold the property, and provokes indignation and tumult; for it is unnatural to believe that property can be secure under the guarantee of a society injured in its rights by the influence of that property. next to the injustice and ill-policy of making property a pretence for exclusive rights, is the unaccountable absurdity of giving to mere _sound_ the idea of property, and annexing to it certain rights; for what else is a _title_ but sound? nature is often giving to the world some extraordinary men who arrive at fame by merit and universal consent, such as aristotle, socrates, plato, &c. they were truly great or noble. but when government sets up a manufactory of nobles, it is as absurd as if she undertook to manufacture wise men. her nobles are all counterfeits. this wax-work order has assumed the name of aristocracy; and the disgrace of it would be lessened if it could be considered only as childish imbecility. we pardon foppery because of its insignificance» and on the same ground we might pardon the foppery of titles. but the origin of aristocracy was worse than foppery. it was robbery. the first aristocrats in all countries were brigands. those of later times, sycophants. it is very well known that in england, (and the same will be found in other countries) the great landed estates now held in descent were plundered from the quiet inhabitants at the conquest. the possibility did not exist of acquiring such estates honestly. if it be asked how they could have been acquired, no answer but that of robbery can be given. that they were not acquired by trade, by commerce, by manufactures, by agriculture, or by any reputable employment, is certain. how then were they acquired? blush, aristocracy, to hear your origin, for your progenitors were thieves. they were the robespierres and the jacobins of that day. when they had committed the robbery, they endeavoured to lose the disgrace of it by sinking their real names under fictitious ones, which they called titles. it is ever the practice of felons to act in this manner. they never pass by their real names.( ) this and the preceding paragraph have been omitted from some editions.--editor. as property, honestly obtained, is best secured by an equality of rights, so ill-gotten property depends for protection on a monopoly of rights. he who has robbed another of his property, will next endeavour to disarm him of his rights, to secure that property; for when the robber becomes the legislator he believes himself secure. that part of the government of england that is called the house of lords, was originally composed of persons who had committed the robberies of which i have been speaking. it was an association for the protection of the property they had stolen. but besides the criminality of the origin of aristocracy, it has an injurious effect on the moral and physical character of man. like slavery it debilitates the human faculties; for as the mind bowed down by slavery loses in silence its elastic powers, so, in the contrary extreme, when it is buoyed up by folly, it becomes incapable of exerting them, and dwindles into imbecility. it is impossible that a mind employed upon ribbands and titles can ever be great. the childishness of the objects consumes the man. it is at all times necessary, and more particularly so during the progress of a revolution, and until right ideas confirm themselves by habit, that we frequently refresh our patriotism by reference to first principles. it is by tracing things to their origin that we learn to understand them: and it is by keeping that line and that origin always in view that we never forget them. an enquiry into the origin of rights will demonstrate to us that _rights_ are not _gifts_ from one man to another, nor from one class of men to another; for who is he who could be the first giver, or by what principle, or on what authority, could he possess the right of giving? a declaration of rights is not a creation of them, nor a donation of them. it is a manifest of the principle by which they exist, followed by a detail of what the rights are; for every civil right has a natural right for its foundation, and it includes the principle of a reciprocal guarantee of those rights from man to man. as, therefore, it is impossible to discover any origin of rights otherwise than in the origin of man, it consequently follows, that rights appertain to man in right of his existence only, and must therefore be equal to every man. the principle of an _equality of rights_ is clear and simple. every man can understand it, and it is by understanding his rights that he learns his duties; for where the rights of men are equal, every man must finally see the necessity of protecting the rights of others as the most effectual security for his own. but if, in the formation of a constitution, we depart from the principle of equal rights, or attempt any modification of it, we plunge into a labyrinth of difficulties from which there is no way out but by retreating. where are we to stop? or by what principle are we to find out the point to stop at, that shall discriminate between men of the same country, part of whom shall be free, and the rest not? if property is to be made the criterion, it is a total departure from every moral principle of liberty, because it is attaching rights to mere matter, and making man the agent of that matter. it is, moreover, holding up property as an apple of discord, and not only exciting but justifying war against it; for i maintain the principle, that when property is used as an instrument to take away the rights of those who may happen not to possess property, it is used to an unlawful purpose, as fire-arms would be in a similar case. in a state of nature all men are equal in rights, but they are not equal in power; the weak cannot protect themselves against the strong. this being the case, the institution of civil society is for the purpose of making an equalization of powers that shall be parallel to, and a guarantee of, the equality of rights. the laws of a country, when properly constructed, apply to this purpose. every man takes the arm of the law for his protection as more effectual than his own; and therefore every man has an equal right in the formation of the government, and of the laws by which he is to be governed and judged. in extensive countries and societies, such as america and france, this right in the individual can only be exercised by delegation, that is, by election and representation; and hence it is that the institution of representative government arises. hitherto, i have confined myself to matters of principle only. first, that hereditary government has not a right to exist; that it cannot be established on any principle of right; and that it is a violation of all principle. secondly, that government by election and representation has its origin in the natural and eternal rights of man; for whether a man be his own lawgiver, as he would be in a state of nature; or whether he exercises his portion of legislative sovereignty in his own person, as might be the case in small democracies where all could assemble for the formation of the laws by which they were to be governed; or whether he exercises it in the choice of persons to represent him in a national assembly of representatives, the origin of the right is the same in all cases. the first, as is before observed, is defective in power; the second, is practicable only in democracies of small extent; the third, is the greatest scale upon which human government can be instituted. next to matters of _principle_ are matters of _opinion_, and it is necessary to distinguish between the two. whether the rights of men shall be equal is not a matter of opinion but of right, and consequently of principle; for men do not hold their rights as grants from each other, but each one in right of himself. society is the guardian but not the giver. and as in extensive societies, such as america and france, the right of the individual in matters of government cannot be exercised but by election and representation, it consequently follows that the only system of government consistent with principle, where simple democracy is impracticable, is the representative system. but as to the organical part, or the manner in which the several parts of government shall be arranged and composed, it is altogether _matter of opinion_, it is necessary that all the parts be conformable with the _principle of equal rights_; and so long as this principle be religiously adhered to, no very material error can take place, neither can any error continue long in that part which falls within the province of opinion. in all matters of opinion, the social compact, or the principle by which society is held together, requires that the majority of opinions becomes the rule for the whole, and that the minority yields practical obedience thereto. this is perfectly conformable to the principle of equal rights: for, in the first place, every man has a _right to give an opinion_ but no man has a right that his opinion should _govern the rest_. in the second place, it is not supposed to be known beforehand on which side of any question, whether for or against, any man's opinion will fall. he may happen to be in a majority upon some questions, and in a minority upon others; and by the same rule that he expects obedience in the one case, he must yield it in the other. all the disorders that have arisen in france, during the progress of the revolution, have had their origin, not in the _principle of equal rights_, but in the violation of that principle. the principle of equal rights has been repeatedly violated, and that not by the majority but by the minority, and _that minority has been composed of men possessing property as well as of men without property; property, therefore, even upon the experience already had, is no more a criterion of character than it is of rights_. it will sometimes happen that the minority are right, and the majority are wrong, but as soon as experience proves this to be the case, the minority will increase to a majority, and the error will reform itself by the tranquil operation of freedom of opinion and equality of rights. nothing, therefore, can justify an insurrection, neither can it ever be necessary where rights are equal and opinions free. taking then the principle of equal rights as the foundation of the revolution, and consequently of the constitution, the organical part, or the manner in which the several parts of the government shall be arranged in the constitution, will, as is already said, fall within the province of opinion. various methods will present themselves upon a question of this kind, and tho' experience is yet wanting to determine which is the best, it has, i think, sufficiently decided which is the worst. that is the worst, which in its deliberations and decisions is subject to the precipitancy and passion of an individual; and when the whole legislature is crowded into one body it is an individual in mass. in all cases of deliberation it is necessary to have a corps of reserve, and it would be better to divide the representation by lot into two parts, and let them revise and correct each other, than that the whole should sit together, and debate at once. representative government is not necessarily confined to any one particular form. the principle is the same in all the forms under which it can be arranged. the equal rights of the people is the root from which the whole springs, and the branches may be arranged as present opinion or future experience shall best direct. as to that _hospital of incurables_ (as chesterfield calls it), the british house of peers, it is an excrescence growing out of corruption; and there is no more affinity or resemblance between any of the branches of a legislative body originating from the right of the people, and the aforesaid house of peers, than between a regular member of the human body and an ulcerated wen. as to that part of government that is called the _executive_, it is necessary in the first place to fix a precise meaning to the word. there are but two divisions into which power can be arranged. first, that of willing or decreeing the laws; secondly, that of executing or putting them in practice. the former corresponds to the intellectual faculties of the human mind, which reasons and determines what shall be done; the second, to the mechanical powers of the human body, that puts that determination into practice.( ) if the former decides, and the latter does not perform, it is a state of imbecility; and if the latter acts without the predetermination of the former, it is a state of lunacy. the executive department therefore is official, and is subordinate to the legislative, as the body is to the mind, in a state of health; for it is impossible to conceive the idea of two sovereignties, a sovereignty to _will_, and a sovereignty to _act_. the executive is not invested with the power of deliberating whether it shall act or not; it has no discretionary authority in the case; for it can _act no other thing_ than what the laws decree, and it is _obliged_ to act conformably thereto; and in this view of the case, the executive is made up of all the official departments that execute the laws, of which that which is called the judiciary is the chief. paine may have had in mind the five senses, with reference to the proposed five members of the directory.--_editor._. but mankind have conceived an idea that _some kind of authority_ is necessary to _superintend_ the execution of the laws and to see that they are faithfully performed; and it is by confounding this superintending authority with the official execution that we get embarrassed about the term _executive power_. all the parts in the governments of the united states of america that are called the executive, are no other than authorities to superintend the execution of the laws; and they are so far independent of the legislative, that they know the legislative only thro' the laws, and cannot be controuled or directed by it through any other medium. in what manner this superintending authority shall be appointed, or composed, is a matter that falls within the province of opinion. some may prefer one method and some another; and in all cases, where opinion only and not principle is concerned, the majority of opinions forms the rule for all. there are however some things deducible from reason, and evidenced by experience, that serve to guide our decision upon the case. the one is, never to invest any individual with extraordinary power; for besides his being tempted to misuse it, it will excite contention and commotion in the nation for the office. secondly, never to invest power long in the hands of any number of individuals. the inconveniences that may be supposed to accompany frequent changes are less to be feared than the danger that arises from long continuance. i shall conclude this discourse with offering some observations on the means of _preserving liberty_; for it is not only necessary that we establish it, but that we preserve it. it is, in the first place, necessary that we distinguish between the means made use of to overthrow despotism, in order to prepare the way for the establishment of liberty, and the means to be used after the despotism is overthrown. the means made use of in the first case are justified by necessity. those means are, in general, insurrections; for whilst the established government of despotism continues in any country it is scarcely possible that any other means can be used. it is also certain that in the commencement of a revolution, the revolutionary party permit to themselves a _discretionary exercise of power_ regulated more by circumstances than by principle, which, were the practice to continue, liberty would never be established, or if established would soon be overthrown. it is never to be expected in a revolution that every man is to change his opinion at the same moment. there never yet was any truth or any principle so irresistibly obvious, that all men believed it at once. time and reason must co-operate with each other to the final establishment of any principle; and therefore those who may happen to be first convinced have not a right to persecute others, on whom conviction operates more slowly. the moral principle of revolutions is to instruct, not to destroy. had a constitution been established two years ago, (as ought to have been done,) the violences that have since desolated france and injured the character of the revolution, would, in my opinion, have been prevented.( ) the nation would then have had a bond of union, and every individual would have known the line of conduct he was to follow. but, instead of this, a revolutionary government, a thing without either principle or authority, was substituted in its place; virtue and crime depended upon accident; and that which was patriotism one day, became treason the next. all these things have followed from the want of a constitution; for it is the nature and intention of a constitution to _prevent governing by party_, by establishing a common principle that shall limit and control the power and impulse of party, and that says to all parties, _thus far shalt thou go and no further_. but in the absence of a constitution, men look entirely to party; and instead of principle governing party, party governs principle. the constitution adopted august , , was by the determination of "the mountain," suspended during the war against france. the revolutionary government was thus made chronic--_editor._ an avidity to punish is always dangerous to liberty. it leads men to stretch, to misinterpret, and to misapply even the best of laws. he that would make his own liberty secure, must guard even his enemy from oppression; for if he violates this duty, he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself. thomas paine. paris, july, . xxv. the constitution of . speech in the french national convention, july , . on the motion of lanthenas, "that permission be granted to thomas paine, to deliver his sentiments on the declaration of rights and the constitution," thomas paine ascended the tribune; and no opposition being made to the motion, one of the secretaries, who stood by mr. paine, read his speech, of which the following is a literal translation: citizens: the effects of a malignant fever, with which i was afflicted during a rigorous confinement in the luxembourg, have thus long prevented me from attending at my post in the bosom of the convention, and the magnitude of the subject under discussion, and no other consideration on earth, could induce me now to repair to my station. a recurrence to the vicissitudes i have experienced, and the critical situations in which i have been placed in consequence of the french revolution, will throw upon what i now propose to submit to the convention the most unequivocal proofs of my integrity, and the rectitude of those principles which have uniformly influenced my conduct. in england i was proscribed for having vindicated the french revolution, and i have suffered a rigorous imprisonment in france for having pursued a similar mode of conduct. during the reign of terrorism, i was a close prisoner for eight long months, and remained so above three months after the era of the th thermidor.( ) i ought, however, to state, that i was not persecuted by the _people_ either of england or france. the proceedings in both countries were the effects of the despotism existing in their respective governments. but, even if my persecution had originated in the people at large, my principles and conduct would still have remained the same. principles which are influenced and subject to the controul of tyranny, have not their foundation in the heart. by the french republican calendar this was nearly the time. paine's imprisonment lasted from december , , to november , . he was by a unanimous vote recalled to the convention, dec , , but his first appearance there was on july , .--_editor._, a few days ago, i transmitted to you by the ordinary mode of distribution, a short treatise, entitled "dissertation on the first principles of government." this little work i did intend to have dedicated to the people of holland, who, about the time i began to write it, were determined to accomplish a revolution in their government, rather than to the people of france, who had long before effected that glorious object. but there are, in the constitution which is about to be ratified by the convention certain articles, and in the report which preceded it certain points, so repugnant to reason, and incompatible with the true principles of liberty, as to render this treatise, drawn up for another purpose, applicable to the present occasion, and under this impression i presumed to submit it to your consideration. if there be faults in the constitution, it were better to expunge them now, than to abide the event of their mischievous tendency; for certain it is, that the plan of the constitution which has been presented to you is not consistent with the grand object of the revolution, nor congenial to the sentiments of the individuals who accomplished it. to deprive half the people in a nation of their rights as citizens, is an easy matter in theory or on paper: but it is a most dangerous experiment, and rarely practicable in the execution. i shall now proceed to the observations i have to offer on this important subject; and i pledge myself that they shall be neither numerous nor diffusive. in my apprehension, a constitution embraces two distinct parts or objects, the _principle_ and the _practice_; and it is not only an essential but an indispensable provision that the practice should emanate from, and accord with, the principle. now i maintain, that the reverse of this proposition is the case in the plan of the constitution under discussion. the first article, for instance, of the _political state_ of citizens, (v. title ii. of the constitution,) says: "every man born and resident in france, who, being twenty-one years of age, has inscribed his name on the civic register of his canton, and who has lived afterwards one year on the territory of the republic, and who pays any direct contribution whatever, real or personal, is a french citizen." ( ) the article as ultimately adopted substituted "person" for "man," and for "has inscribed his name" (a slight educational test) inserted "whose name is inscribed."-- _editor._ i might here ask, if those only who come under the above description are to be considered as citizens, what designation do you mean to give the rest of the people? i allude to that portion of the people on whom the principal part of the labour falls, and on whom the weight of indirect taxation will in the event chiefly press. in the structure of the social fabric, this class of people are infinitely superior to that privileged order whose only qualification is their wealth or territorial possessions. for what is trade without merchants? what is land without cultivation? and what is the produce of the land without manufactures? but to return to the subject. in the first place, this article is incompatible with the three first articles of the declaration of rights, which precede the constitutional act. the first article of the declaration of rights says: "the end of society is the public good; and the institution of government is to secure to every individual the enjoyment of his rights." but the article of the constitution to which i have just adverted proposes as the object of society, not the public good, or in other words, the good of _all_, but a partial good; or the good only of a _few_; and the constitution provides solely for the rights of this few, to the exclusion of the many. the second article of the declaration of rights says: "the rights of man in society are liberty, equality, security of his person and property." but the article alluded to in the constitution has a direct tendency to establish the reverse of this position, inasmuch as the persons excluded by this _inequality_ can neither be said to possess liberty, nor security against oppression. they are consigned totally to the caprice and tyranny of the rest. the third article of the declaration of rights says: "liberty consists in such acts of volition as are not injurious to others." but the article of the constitution, on which i have observed, breaks down this barrier. it enables the liberty of one part of society to destroy the freedom of the other. having thus pointed out the inconsistency of this article to the declaration of rights, i shall proceed to comment on that of the same article which makes a direct contribution a necessary qualification to the right of citizenship. a modern refinement on the object of public revenue has divided the taxes, or contributions, into two classes, the _direct_ and the_ indirect_, without being able to define precisely the distinction or difference between them, because the effect of both is the same. those are designated indirect taxes which fall upon the consumers of certain articles, on which the tax is imposed, because, the tax being included in the price, the consumer pays it without taking notice of it. the same observation is applicable to the territorial tax. the land proprietors, in order to reimburse themselves, will rack-rent their tenants: the farmer, of course, will transfer the obligation to the miller, by enhancing the price of grain; the miller to the baker, by increasing the price of flour; and the baker to the consumer, by raising the price of bread. the territorial tax, therefore, though called _direct_, is, in its consequences, _indirect_. to this tax the land proprietor contributes only in proportion to the quantity of bread and other provisions that are consumed in his own family. the deficit is furnished by the great mass of the community, which comprehends every individual of the nation. from the logical distinction between the direct and in-direct taxation, some emolument may result, i allow, to auditors of public accounts, &c., but to the people at large i deny that such a distinction (which by the by is without a difference) can be productive of any practical benefit. it ought not, therefore, to be admitted as a principle in the constitution. besides this objection, the provision in question does not affect to define, secure, or establish the right of citizenship. it consigns to the caprice or discretion of the legislature the power of pronouncing who shall, or shall not, exercise the functions of a citizen; and this may be done effectually, either by the imposition of a _direct or indirect_ tax, according to the selfish views of the legislators, or by the mode of collecting the taxes so imposed. neither a tenant who occupies an extensive farm, nor a merchant or manufacturer who may have embarked a large capital in their respective pursuits, can ever, according to this system, attain the preemption of a citizen. on the other hand, any upstart, who has, by succession or management, got possession of a few acres of land or a miserable tenement, may exultingly exercise the functions of a citizen, although perhaps neither possesses a hundredth part of the worth or property of a simple mechanic, nor contributes in any proportion to the exigencies of the state. the contempt in which the old government held mercantile pursuits, and the obloquy that attached on merchants and manufacturers, contributed not a little to its embarrassments, and its eventual subversion; and, strange to tell, though the mischiefs arising from this mode of conduct are so obvious, yet an article is proposed for your adoption which has a manifest tendency to restore a defect inherent in the monarchy. i shall now proceed to the second article of the same title, with which i shall conclude my remarks. the second article says, "every french soldier, who shall have served one or more campaigns in the cause of liberty, is deemed a citizen of the republic, without any respect or reference to other qualifications."( ) it would seem, that in this article the committee were desirous of extricating themselves from a dilemma into which they had been plunged by the preceding article. when men depart from an established principle they are compelled to resort to trick and subterfuge, always shifting their means to preserve the unity of their objects; and as it rarely happens that the first expedient makes amends for the prostitution of principle, they must call in aid a second, of a more flagrant nature, to supply the deficiency of the former. in this manner legislators go on accumulating error upon error, and artifice upon artifice, until the mass becomes so bulky and incongruous, and their embarrassment so desperate, that they are compelled, as their last expedient, to resort to the very principle they had violated. the committee were precisely in this predicament when they framed this article; and to me, i confess, their conduct appears specious rather than efficacious.( ) this article eventually stood: "all frenchmen who shall have made one or more campaigns for the establishment of the republic, are citizens, without condition as to taxes."-- _editor._ the head of the committee (eleven) was the abbé sieves, whose political treachery was well known to paine before it became known to the world by his services to napoleon in overthrowing the republic.--_editor._ it was not for himself alone, but for his family, that the french citizen, at the dawn of the revolution, (for then indeed every man was considered a citizen) marched soldier-like to the frontiers, and repelled a foreign invasion. he had it not in his contemplation, that he should enjoy liberty for the residue of his earthly career, and by his own act preclude his offspring from that inestimable blessing. no! he wished to leave it as an inheritance to his children, and that they might hand it down to their latest posterity. if a frenchman, who united in his person the character of a soldier and a citizen, was now to return from the army to his peaceful habitation, he must address his small family in this manner: "sorry i am, that i cannot leave to you a small portion of what i have acquired by exposing my person to the ferocity of our enemies and defeating their machinations. i have established the republic, and, painful the reflection, all the laurels which i have won in the field are blasted, and all the privileges to which my exertions have entitled me extend not beyond the period of my own existence!" thus the measure that has been adopted by way of subterfuge falls short of what the framers of it speculated upon; for in conciliating the affections of the _soldier_, they have subjected the _father_ to the most pungent sensations, by obliging him to adopt a generation of slaves. citizens, a great deal has been urged respecting insurrections. i am confident that no man has a greater abhorrence of them than myself, and i am sorry that any insinuations should have been thrown out upon me as a promoter of violence of any kind. the whole tenor of my life and conversation gives the lie to those calumnies, and proves me to be a friend to order, truth and justice. i hope you will attribute this effusion of my sentiments to my anxiety for the honor and success of the revolution. i have no interest distinct from that which has a tendency to meliorate the situation of mankind. the revolution, as far as it respects myself, has been productive of more loss and persecution than it is possible for me to describe, or for you to indemnify. but with respect to the subject under consideration, i could not refrain from declaring my sentiments. in my opinion, if you subvert the basis of the revolution, if you dispense with principles, and substitute expedients, you will extinguish that enthusiasm and energy which have hitherto been the life and soul of the revolution; and you will substitute in its place nothing but a cold indifference and self-interest, which will again degenerate into intrigue, cunning, and effeminacy. but to discard all considerations of a personal and subordinate nature, it is essential to the well-being of the republic that the practical or organic part of the constitution should correspond with its principles; and as this does not appear to be the case in the plan that has been presented to you, it is absolutely necessary that it should be submitted to the revision of a committee, who should be instructed to compare it with the declaration of rights, in order to ascertain the difference between the two, and to make such alterations as shall render them perfectly consistent and compatible with each other. xxvi. the decline and fall of the english system of finance.( ) "on the verge, nay even in the gulph of bankruptcy." this pamphlet, as paine predicts at its close (no doubt on good grounds), was translated into all languages of europe, and probably hastened the gold suspension of the bank of england ( ), which it predicted. the british government entrusted its reply to ralph broome and george chalmers, who wrote pamphlets. there is in the french archives an order for copies, april , , nineteen days after paine's pamphlet appeared. "mr. cobbett has made this little pamphlet a text-book for most of his elaborate treatises on our finances.... on the authority of a late register of mr. cobbett's i learn that the profits arising from the sale of this pamphlet were devoted [by paine] to the relief of the prisoners confined in newgate for debt."--"life of paine," by richard carlile, .--_editor._. debates in parliament. nothing, they say, is more certain than death, and nothing more uncertain than the time of dying; yet we can always fix a period beyond which man cannot live, and within some moment of which he will die. we are enabled to do this, not by any spirit of prophecy, or foresight into the event, but by observation of what has happened in all cases of human or animal existence. if then any other subject, such, for instance, as a system of finance, exhibits in its progress a series of symptoms indicating decay, its final dissolution is certain, and the period of it can be calculated from the symptoms it exhibits. those who have hitherto written on the english system of finance, (the funding system,) have been uniformly impressed with the idea that its downfall would happen _some time or other_. they took, however, no data for their opinion, but expressed it predictively,--or merely as opinion, from a conviction that the perpetual duration of such a system was a natural impossibility. it is in this manner that dr. price has spoken of it; and smith, in his wealth of nations, has spoken in the same manner; that is, merely as opinion without data. "the progress," says smith, "of the enormous debts, which at present oppress, and will in the long run _most probably ruin_, all the great nations of europe [he should have said _governments_] has been pretty uniform." but this general manner of speaking, though it might make some impression, carried with it no conviction. it is not my intention to predict any thing; but i will show from data already known, from symptoms and facts which the english funding system has already exhibited publicly, that it will not continue to the end of mr. pitt's life, supposing him to live the usual age of a man. how much sooner it may fall, i leave to others to predict. let financiers diversify systems of credit as they will, it _is_ nevertheless true, that every system of credit is a system of paper money. two experiments have already been had upon paper money; the one in america, the other in france. in both those cases the whole capital was emitted, and that whole capital, which in america was called continental money, and in france assignats, appeared in circulation; the consequence of which was, that the quantity became so enormous, and so disproportioned to the quantity of population, and to the quantity' of objects upon which it could be employed, that the market, if i may so express it, was glutted with it, and the value of it fell. between five and six years determined the fate of those experiments. the same fate would have happened to gold and silver, could gold and silver have been issued in the same abundant manner that paper had been, and confined within the country as paper money always is, by having no circulation out of it; or, to speak on a larger scale, the same thing would happen in the world, could the world be glutted with gold and silver, as america and france have been with paper. the english system differs from that of america and france in this one particular, that its capital is kept out of sight; that is, it does not appear in circulation. were the whole capital of the national debt, which at the time i write this is almost one hundred million pounds sterling, to be emitted in assignats or bills, and that whole quantity put into circulation, as was done in america and in france, those english assignats, or bills, would soon sink in value as those of america and france have done; and that in a greater degree, because the quantity of them would be more disproportioned to the quantity of population in england, than was the case in either of the other two countries. a nominal pound sterling in such bills would not be worth one penny. but though the english system, by thus keeping the capital out of sight, is preserved from hasty destruction, as in the case of america and france, it nevertheless approaches the same fate, and will arrive at it with the same certainty, though by a slower progress. the difference is altogether in the degree of speed by which the two systems approach their fate, which, to speak in round numbers, is as twenty is to one; that is, the english system, that of funding the capital instead of issuing it, contained within itself a capacity of enduring twenty times longer than the systems adopted by america and france; and at the end of that time it would arrive at the same common grave, the potter's field of paper money. the datum, i take for this proportion of twenty to one, is the difference between a capital and the interest at five per cent. twenty times the interest is equal to the capital. the accumulation of paper money in england is in proportion to the accumulation of the interest upon every new loan; and therefore the progress to the dissolution is twenty times slower than if the capital were to be emitted and put into circulation immediately. every twenty years in the english system is equal to one year in the french and american systems. having thus stated the duration of the two systems, that of funding upon interest, and that of emitting the whole capital without funding, to be as twenty to one, i come to examine the symptoms of decay, approaching to dissolution, that the english system has already exhibited, and to compare them with similar systems in the french and american systems. the english funding system began one hundred years ago; in which time there have been six wars, including the war that ended in . . the war that ended, as i have just said, in . . the war that began in . . the war that began in . . the war that began in . . the american war, that began in . . the present war, that began in . the national debt, at the conclusion of the war which ended in , was twenty-one millions and an half. (see smith's wealth of nations, chapter on public debts.) we now see it approaching fast to four hundred millions. if between these two extremes of twenty-one millions and four hundred millions, embracing the several expenses of all the including wars, there exist some common ratio that will ascertain arithmetically the amount of the debts at the end of each war, as certainly as the fact is known to be, that ratio will in like manner determine what the amount of the debt will be in all future wars, and will ascertain the period within which the funding system will expire in a bankruptcy of the government; for the ratio i allude to, is the ratio which the nature of the thing has established for itself. hitherto no idea has been entertained that any such ratio existed, or could exist, that would determine a problem of this kind; that is, that would ascertain, without having any knowledge of the fact, what the expense of any former war had been, or what the expense of any future war would be; but it is nevertheless true that such a ratio does exist, as i shall show, and also the mode of applying it. the ratio i allude to is not in arithmetical progression like the numbers , , , , , , , ; nor yet in geometrical progression, like the numbers , , , , , , , ; but it is in the series of one half upon each preceding number; like the numbers , , , , , , , . any person can perceive that the second number, , is produced by the preceding number, , and half ; and that the third number, , is in like manner produced by the preceding number, , and half ; and so on for the rest. they can also see how rapidly the sums increase as the ratio proceeds. the difference between the two first numbers is but four; but the difference between the two last is forty-five; and from thence they may see with what immense rapidity the national debt has increased, and will continue to increase, till it exceeds the ordinary powers of calculation, and loses itself in ciphers. i come now to apply the ratio as a rule to determine in all cases. i began with the war that ended in , which was the war in which the funding system began. the expense of that war was twenty-one millions and an half. in order to ascertain the expense of the next war, i add to twenty-one millions and an half, the half thereof (ten millions and three quarters) which makes thirty-two millions and a quarter for the expense of that war. this thirty-two millions and a quarter, added to the former debt of twenty-one millions and an half, carries the national debt to fifty-three millions and three quarters. smith, in his chapter on public debts, says, that the national debt was at this time fifty-three millions. i proceed to ascertain the expense of the next war, that of , by adding, as in the former case, one half to the expense of the preceding war. the expense of the preceding war was thirty-two millions and a quarter; for the sake of even numbers, say, thirty-two millions; the half of which ( ) makes forty-eight millions for the expense of that war. i proceed to ascertain the expense of the war of , by adding, according to the ratio, one half to the expense of the preceding war. the expense of the preceding was taken at millions, the half of which ( ) makes millions for the expense of that war. smith, (chapter on public debts,) says, the expense of the war of , was millions and a quarter. i proceed to ascertain the expense of the american war, of , by adding, as in the former cases, one half to the expense of the preceding war. the expense of the preceding war was millions, the half of which ( ) makes millions for the expense of that war. in the last edition of smith, (chapter on public debts,) he says, the expense of the american war was _more than an hundred millions_. i come now to ascertain the expense of the present war, supposing it to continue as long as former wars have done, and the funding system not to break up before that period. the expense of the preceding war was millions, the half of which ( ) makes millions for the expense of the present war. it gives symptoms of going beyond this sum, supposing the funding system not to break up; for the loans of the last year and of the present year are twenty-two millions each, which exceeds the ratio compared with the loans of the preceding war. it will not be from the inability of procuring loans that the system will break up. on the contrary, it is the facility with which loans can be procured that hastens that event. the loans are altogether paper transactions; and it is the excess of them that brings on, with accelerating speed, that progressive depreciation of funded paper money that will dissolve the funding system. i proceed to ascertain the expense of future wars, and i do this merely to show the impossibility of the continuance of the funding system, and the certainty of its dissolution. the expense of the next war after the present war, according to the ratio that has ascertained the preceding cases, will be millions. expense of the second war ---------------- third war ---------------- fourth war -------- fifth war millions; which, at only four per cent. will require taxes to the nominal amount of one hundred and twenty-eight millions to pay the annual interest, besides the interest of the present debt, and the expenses of government, which are not included in this account. is there a man so mad, so stupid, as to sup-pose this system can continue? when i first conceived the idea of seeking for some common ratio that should apply as a rule of measurement to all the cases of the funding system, so far as to ascertain the several stages of its approach to dissolution, i had no expectation that any ratio could be found that would apply with so much exactness as this does. i was led to the idea merely by observing that the funding system was a thing in continual progression, and that whatever was in a state of progression might be supposed to admit of, at least, some general ratio of measurement, that would apply without any very great variation. but who could have supposed that falling systems, or falling opinions, admitted of a ratio apparently as true as the descent of falling bodies? i have not made the ratio any more than newton made the ratio of gravitation. i have only discovered it, and explained the mode of applying it. to shew at one view the rapid progression of the funding system to destruction, and to expose the folly of those who blindly believe in its continuance, and who artfully endeavour to impose that belief upon others, i exhibit in the annexed table, the expense of each of the six wars since the funding system began, as ascertained by ratio, and the expense of the six wars yet to come, ascertained by the same ratio. [illustration: table ] * the actual expense of the war of did not come up to the sum ascertained by the ratio. but as that which is the natural disposition of a thing, as it is the natural disposition of a stream of water to descend, will, if impeded in its course, overcome by a new effort what it had lost by that impediment, so it was with respect to this war and the next ( ) taken collectively; for the expense of the war of restored the equilibrium of the ratio, as fully as if it had not been impeded. a circumstance that serves to prove the truth of the ratio more folly than if the interruption had not taken place. the war of *** languid; the efforts were below the value of money et that time; for the ratio is the measure of the depreciation of money in consequence of the funding system; or what comes to the same end, it is the measure of the increase of paper. every additional quantity of it, whether in bank notes or otherwise, diminishes the real, though not the nominal value of the former quantity.--_author_ those who are acquainted with the power with which even a small ratio, acting in progression, multiplies in a long series, will see nothing to wonder at in this table. those who are not acquainted with that subject, and not knowing what else to say, may be inclined to deny it. but it is not their opinion one way, nor mine the other, that can influence the event. the table exhibits the natural march of the funding system to its irredeemable dissolution. supposing the present government of england to continue, and to go on as it has gone on since the funding system began, i would not give twenty shillings for one hundred pounds in the funds to be paid twenty years hence. i do not speak this predictively; i produce the data upon which that belief is founded; and which data it is every body's interest to know, who have any thing to do with the funds, or who are going to bequeath property to their descendants to be paid at a future day. perhaps it may be asked, that as governments or ministers proceeded by no ratio in making loans or incurring debts, and nobody intended any ratio, or thought of any, how does it happen that there is one? i answer, that the ratio is founded in necessity; and i now go to explain what that necessity is. it will always happen, that the price of labour, or of the produce of labour, be that produce what it may, will be in proportion to the quantity of money in a country, admitting things to take their natural course. before the invention of the funding system, there was no other money than gold and silver; and as nature gives out those metals with a sparing hand, and in regular annual quantities from the mines, the several prices of things were proportioned to the quantity of money at that time, and so nearly stationary as to vary but little in any fifty or sixty years of that period. when the funding system began, a substitute for gold and silver began also. that substitute was paper; and the quantity increased as the quantity of interest increased upon accumulated loans. this appearance of a new and additional species of money in the nation soon began to break the relative value which money and the things it will purchase bore to each other before. every thing rose in price; but the rise at first was little and slow, like the difference in units between two first numbers, and , compared with the two last numbers and , in the table. it was however sufficient to make itself considerably felt in a large transaction. when therefore government, by engaging in a new war, required a new loan, it was obliged to make a higher loan than the former loan, to balance the increased price to which things had risen; and as that new loan increased the quantity of paper in proportion to the new quantity of interest, it carried the price of things still higher than before. the next loan was again higher, to balance that further increased price; and all this in the same manner, though not in the same degree, that every new emission of continental money in america, or of assignats in france, was greater than the preceding emission, to make head against the advance of prices, till the combat could be maintained no longer. herein is founded the necessity of which i have just spoken. that necessity proceeds with accelerating velocity, and the ratio i have laid down is the measure of that acceleration; or, to speak the technical language of the subject, it is the measure of the increasing depreciation of funded paper money, which it is impossible to prevent while the quantity of that money and of bank notes continues to multiply. what else but this can account for the difference between one war costing millions, and another war costing millions? the difference cannot be accounted for on the score of extraordinary efforts or extraordinary achievements. the war that cost twenty-one millions was the war of the con-federates, historically called the grand alliance, consisting of england, austria, and holland in the time of william iii. against louis xiv. and in which the confederates were victorious. the present is a war of a much greater confederacy--a confederacy of england, austria, prussia, the german empire, spain, holland, naples, and sardinia, eight powers, against the french republic singly, and the republic has beaten the whole confederacy.--but to return to my subject. it is said in england, that the value of paper keeps equal with the value of gold and silver. but the case is not rightly stated; for the fact is, that the paper has _pulled down_ the value of gold and silver to a level with itself. gold and silver will not purchase so much of any purchasable article at this day as if no paper had appeared, nor so much as it will in any country in europe where there is no paper. how long this hanging together of money and paper will continue, makes a new case; because it daily exposes the system to sudden death, independent of the natural death it would otherwise suffer. i consider the funding system as being now advanced into the last twenty years of its existence. the single circumstance, were there no other, that a war should now cost nominally one hundred and sixty millions, which when the system began cost but twenty-one millions, or that the loan for one year only (including the loan to the emperor) should now be nominally greater than the whole expense of that war, shows the state of depreciation to which the funding system has arrived. its depreciation is in the proportion of eight for one, compared with the value of its money when the system began; which is the state the french assignats stood a year ago (march ) compared with gold and silver. it is therefore that i say, that the english funding system has entered on the last twenty years of its existence, comparing each twenty years of the english system with every single year of the american and french systems, as before stated. again, supposing the present war to close as former wars have done, and without producing either revolution or reform in england, another war at least must be looked for in the space of the twenty years i allude to; for it has never yet happened that twenty years have passed off without a war, and that more especially since the english government has dabbled in german politics, and shown a disposition to insult the world, and the world of commerce, with her navy. the next war will carry the national debt to very nearly seven hundred millions, the interest of which, at four per cent, will be twenty-eight millions besides the taxes for the (then) expenses of government, which will increase in the same proportion, and which will carry the taxes to at least forty millions; and if another war only begins, it will quickly carry them to above fifty; for it is in the last twenty years of the funding system, as in the last year of the american and french systems without funding, that all the great shocks begin to operate. i have just mentioned that, paper in england has _pulled down_ the value of gold and silver to a level with itself; and that _this pulling dawn_ of gold and silver money has created the appearance of paper money keeping up. the same thing, and the same mistake, took place in america and in france, and continued for a considerable time after the commencement of their system of paper; and the actual depreciation of money was hidden under that mistake. it was said in america, at that time, that everything was becoming _dear_; but gold and silver could then buy those dear articles no cheaper than paper could; and therefore it was not called depreciation. the idea of _dearness_ established itself for the idea of depreciation. the same was the case in france. though every thing rose in price soon after assignats appeared, yet those dear articles could be purchased no cheaper with gold and silver, than with paper, and it was only said that things were _dear_. the same is still the language in england. they call it _deariness_. but they will soon find that it is an actual depreciation, and that this depreciation is the effect of the funding system; which, by crowding such a continually increasing mass of paper into circulation, carries down the value of gold and silver with it. but gold and silver, will, in the long run, revolt against depreciation, and separate from the value of paper; for the progress of all such systems appears to be, that the paper will take the command in the beginning, and gold and silver in the end. but this succession in the command of gold and silver over paper, makes a crisis far more eventful to the funding system than to any other system upon which paper can be issued; for, strictly speaking, it is not a crisis of danger but a symptom of death. it is a death-stroke to the funding system. it is a revolution in the whole of its affairs. if paper be issued without being funded upon interest, emissions of it can be continued after the value of it separates from gold and silver, as we have seen in the two cases of america and france. but the funding system rests altogether upon the value of paper being equal to gold and silver; which will be as long as the paper can continue carrying down the value of gold and silver to the same level to which itself descends, and no longer. but even in this state, that of descending equally together, the minister, whoever he may be, will find himself beset with accumulating difficulties; because the loans and taxes voted for the service of each ensuing year will wither in his hands before the year expires, or before they can be applied. this will force him to have recourse to emissions of what are called exchequer and navy bills, which, by still increasing the mass of paper in circulation, will drive on the depreciation still more rapidly. it ought to be known that taxes in england are not paid in gold and silver, but in paper (bank notes). every person who pays any considerable quantity of taxes, such as maltsters, brewers, distillers, (i appeal for the truth of it, to any of the collectors of excise in england, or to mr. white-bread,)( ) knows this to be the case. there is not gold and silver enough in the nation to pay the taxes in coin, as i shall show; and consequently there is not money enough in the bank to pay the notes. the interest of the national funded debt is paid at the bank in the same kind of paper in which the taxes are collected. when people find, as they will find, a reservedness among each other in giving gold and silver for bank notes, or the least preference for the former over the latter, they will go for payment to the bank, where they have a right to go. they will do this as a measure of prudence, each one for himself, and the truth or delusion of the funding system will then be proved. an eminent member of parliament.--_editor._. i have said in the foregoing paragraph that there is not gold and silver enough in the nation to pay the taxes in coin, and consequently that there cannot be enough in the bank to pay the notes. as i do not choose to rest anything upon assertion, i appeal for the truth of this to the publications of mr. eden (now called lord auckland) and george chalmers, secretary to the board of trade and plantation, of which jenkinson (now lord hawkesbury) is president.( ) (these sort of folks change their names so often that it is as difficult to know them as it is to know a thief.) chalmers gives the quantity of gold and silver coin from the returns of coinage at the mint; and after deducting for the light gold recoined, says that the amount of gold and silver coined is about twenty millions. he had better not have proved this, especially if he had reflected that _public credit is suspicion asleep_. the quantity is much too little. concerning chalmers and hawkesbury see vol. ii., p. . also, preface to my "life of paine", xvi., and other passages.---_editor._. of this twenty millions (which is not a fourth part of the quantity of gold and silver there is in france, as is shown in mr. neckar's treatise on the administration of the finances) three millions at least must be supposed to be in ireland, some in scotland, and in the west indies, newfoundland, &c. the quantity therefore in england cannot be more than sixteen millions, which is four millions less than the amount of the taxes. but admitting that there are sixteen millions, not more than a fourth part thereof (four millions) can be in london, when it is considered that every city, town, village, and farm-house in the nation must have a part of it, and that all the great manufactories, which most require cash, are out of london. of this four millions in london, every banker, merchant, tradesman, in short every individual, must have some. he must be a poor shopkeeper indeed, who has not a few guineas in his till. the quantity of cash therefore in the bank can never, on the evidence of circumstances, be so much as two millions; most probably not more than one million; and on this slender twig, always liable to be broken, hangs the whole funding system of four hundred millions, besides many millions in bank notes. the sum in the bank is not sufficient to pay one-fourth of only one year's interest of the national debt, were the creditors to demand payment in cash, or demand cash for the bank notes in which the interest is paid, a circumstance always liable to happen. one of the amusements that has kept up the farce of the funding system is, that the interest is regularly paid. but as the interest is always paid in bank notes, and as bank notes can always be coined for the purpose, this mode of payment proves nothing. the point of proof is, can the bank give cash for the bank notes with which the interest is paid? if it cannot, and it is evident it cannot, some millions of bank notes must go without payment, and those holders of bank notes who apply last will be worst off. when the present quantity of cash in the bank is paid away, it is next to impossible to see how any new quantity is to arrive. none will arrive from taxes, for the taxes will all be paid in bank notes; and should the government refuse bank notes in payment of taxes, the credit of bank notes will be gone at once. no cash will arise from the business of discounting merchants' bills; for every merchant will pay off those bills in bank notes, and not in cash. there is therefore no means left for the bank to obtain a new supply of cash, after the present quantity is paid away. but besides the impossibility of paying the interest of the funded debt in cash, there are many thousand persons, in london and in the country, who are holders of bank notes that came into their hands in the fair way of trade, and who are not stockholders in the funds; and as such persons have had no hand in increasing the demand upon the bank, as those have had who for their own private interest, like boyd and others, are contracting or pretending to contract for new loans, they will conceive they have a just right that their bank notes should be paid first. boyd has been very sly in france, in changing his paper into cash. he will be just as sly in doing the same thing in london, for he has learned to calculate; and then it is probable he will set off for america. a stoppage of payment at the bank is not a new thing. smith in his wealth of nations, book ii. chap. , says, that in the year , exchequer bills fell forty, fifty, and sixty per cent; bank notes twenty per cent; and the bank stopped payment. that which happened in may happen again in . the period in which it happened was the last year of the war of king william. it necessarily put a stop to the further emissions of exchequer and navy bills, and to the raising of new loans; and the peace which took place the next year was probably hurried on by this circumstance, and saved the bank from bankruptcy. smith in speaking from the circumstances of the bank, upon another occasion, says (book ii. chap. .) "this great company had been reduced to the necessity of paying in sixpences." when a bank adopts the expedient of paying in sixpences, it is a confession of insolvency. it is worthy of observation, that every case of failure in finances, since the system of paper began, has produced a revolution in governments, either total or partial. a failure in the finances of france produced the french revolution. a failure in the finance of the assignats broke up the revolutionary government, and produced the present french constitution. a failure in the finances of the old congress of america, and the embarrassments it brought upon commerce, broke up the system of the old confederation, and produced the federal constitution. if, then, we admit of reasoning by comparison of causes and events, the failure of the english finances will produce some change in the government of that country. as to mr. pitt's project of paying off the national debt by applying a million a-year for that purpose, while he continues adding more than twenty millions a-year to it, it is like setting a man with a wooden leg to run after a hare. the longer he runs the farther he is off. when i said that the funding system had entered the last twenty years of its existence, i certainly did not mean that it would continue twenty years, and then expire as a lease would do. i meant to describe that age of decrepitude in which death is every day to be expected, and life cannot continue long. but the death of credit, or that state that is called bankruptcy, is not always marked by those progressive stages of visible decline that marked the decline of natural life. in the progression of natural life age cannot counterfeit youth, nor conceal the departure of juvenile abilities. but it is otherwise with respect to the death of credit; for though all the approaches to bankruptcy may actually exist in circumstances, they admit of being concealed by appearances. nothing is more common than to see the bankrupt of to-day a man in credit but the day before; yet no sooner is the real state of his affairs known, than every body can see he had been insolvent long before. in london, the greatest theatre of bankruptcy in europe, this part of the subject will be well and feelingly understood. mr. pitt continually talks of credit, and the national resources. these are two of the feigned appearances by which the approaches to bankruptcy are concealed. that which he calls credit may exist, as i have just shown, in a state of insolvency, and is always what i have before described it to be, _suspicion asleep_. as to national resources, mr. pitt, like all english financiers that preceded him since the funding system began, has uniformly mistaken the nature of a resource; that is, they have mistaken it consistently with the delusion of the funding system; but time is explaining the delusion. that which he calls, and which they call, a resource, is not a resource, but is the _anticipation_ of a resource. they have anticipated what _would have been_ a resource in another generation, had not the use of it been so anticipated. the funding system is a system of anticipation. those who established it an hundred years ago anticipated the resources of those who were to live an hundred years after; for the people of the present day have to pay the interest of the debts contracted at that time, and all debts contracted since. but it is the last feather that breaks the horse's back. had the system begun an hundred years before, the amount of taxes at this time to pay the annual interest at four per cent. (could we suppose such a system of insanity could have continued) would be two hundred and twenty millions annually: for the capital of the debt would be millions, according to the ratio that ascertains the expense of the wars for the hundred years that are past. but long before it could have reached this period, the value of bank notes, from the immense quantity of them, (for it is in paper only that such a nominal revenue could be collected,) would have been as low or lower than continental paper has been in america, or assignats in france; and as to the idea of exchanging them for gold and silver, it is too absurd to be contradicted. do we not see that nature, in all her operations, disowns the visionary basis upon which the funding system is built? she acts always by renewed successions, and never by accumulating additions perpetually progressing. animals and vegetables, men and trees, have existed since the world began: but that existence has been carried on by succession of generations, and not by continuing the same men and the same trees in existence that existed first; and to make room for the new she removes the old. every natural idiot can see this; it is the stock-jobbing idiot only that mistakes. he has conceived that art can do what nature cannot. he is teaching her a new system--that there is no occasion for man to die--that the scheme of creation can be carried on upon the plan of the funding system--that it can proceed by continual additions of new beings, like new loans, and all live together in eternal youth. go, count the graves, thou idiot, and learn the folly of thy arithmetic! but besides these things, there is something visibly farcical in the whole operation of loaning. it is scarcely more than four years ago that such a rot of bankruptcy spread itself over london, that the whole commercial fabric tottered; trade and credit were at a stand; and such was the state of things that, to prevent or suspend a general bankruptcy, the government lent the merchants six millions in _government_ paper, and now the merchants lend the government twenty-two millions in _their_ paper; and two parties, boyd and morgan, men but little known, contend who shall be the lenders. what a farce is this! it reduces the operation of loaning to accommodation paper, in which the competitors contend, not who shall lend, but who shall sign, because there is something to be got for signing. every english stock-jobber and minister boasts of the credit of england. its credit, say they, is greater than that of any country in europe. there is a good reason for this: for there is not another country in europe that could be made the dupe of such a delusion. the english funding system will remain a monument of wonder, not so much on account of the extent to which it has been carried, as of the folly of believing in it. those who had formerly predicted that the funding system would break up when the debt should amount to one hundred or one hundred and fifty millions, erred only in not distinguishing between insolvency and actual bankruptcy; for the insolvency commenced as soon as the government became unable to pay the interest in cash, or to give cash for the bank notes in which the interest was paid, whether that inability was known or not, or whether it was suspected or not. insolvency always takes place before bankruptcy; for bankruptcy is nothing more than the publication of that insolvency. in the affairs of an individual, it often happens that insolvency exists several years before bankruptcy, and that the insolvency is concealed and carried on till the individual is not able to pay one shilling in the pound. a government can ward off bankruptcy longer than an individual: but insolvency will inevitably produce bankruptcy, whether in an individual or in a government. if then the quantity of bank notes payable on demand, which the bank has issued, are greater than the bank can pay off, the bank is insolvent: and when that insolvency is declared, it is bankruptcy.(*) * among the delusions that have been imposed upon the nation by ministers to give a false colouring to its affairs, and by none more than by mr. pitt, is a motley, amphibious-charactered thing called the _balance of trade_. this balance of trade, as it is called, is taken from the custom-house books, in which entries are made of all cargoes exported, and also of all cargoes imported, in each year; and when the value of the exports, according to the price set upon them by the exporter or by the custom-house, is greater than the value of the imports, estimated in the same manner, they say the balance of trade is much in their favour. the custom-house books prove regularly enough that so many cargoes have been exported, and so many imported; but this is all that they prove, or were intended to prove. they have nothing to do with the balance of profit or loss; and it is ignorance to appeal to them upon that account: for the case is, that the greater the loss is in any one year, the higher will this thing called the balance of trade appear to be according to the custom-house books. for example, nearly the whole of the mediterranean convoy has been taken by the french this year; consequently those cargoes will not appear as imports on the custom-house books, and therefore the balance of trade, by which they mean the profits of it, will appear to be so much the greater as the loss amounts to; and, on the other hand, had the loss not happened, the profits would have appeared to have been so much the less. all the losses happening at sea to returning cargoes, by accidents, by the elements, or by capture, make the balance appear the higher on the side of the exports; and were they all lost at sea, it would appear to be all profit on the custom-house books. also every cargo of exports that is lost that occasions another to be sent, adds in like manner to the side of the exports, and appears as profit. this year the balance of trade will appear high, because the losses have been great by capture and by storms. the ignorance of the british parliament in listening to this hackneyed imposition of ministers about the balance of trade is astonishing. it shows how little they know of national affairs--and mr. grey may as well talk greek to them, as to make motions about the state of the nation. they understand only fox-hunting and the game laws,--_author_. i come now to show the several ways by which bank notes get into circulation: i shall afterwards offer an estimate on the total quantity or amount of bank notes existing at this moment. the bank acts in three capacities. as a bank of discount; as a bank of deposit; and as a banker for the government. first, as a bank of discount. the bank discounts merchants' bills of exchange for two months. when a merchant has a bill that will become due at the end of two months, and wants payment before that time, the bank advances that payment to him, deducting therefrom at the rate of five per cent, per annum. the bill of exchange remains at the bank as a pledge or pawn, and at the end of two months it must be redeemed. this transaction is done altogether in paper; for the profits of the bank, as a bank of discount, arise entirely from its making use of paper as money. the bank gives bank notes to the merchant in discounting the bill of exchange, and the redeemer of the bill pays bank notes to the bank in redeeming it. it very seldom happens that any real money passes between them. if the profits of a bank be, for example, two hundred thousand pounds a year (a great sum to be made merely by exchanging one sort of paper for another, and which shows also that the merchants of that place are pressed for money for payments, instead of having money to spare to lend to government,) it proves that the bank discounts to the amount of four millions annually, or , l. every two months; and as there never remain in the bank more than two months' pledges, of the value of , l., at any one time, the amount of bank notes in circulation at any one time should not be more than to that amount. this is sufficient to show that the present immense quantity of bank notes, which are distributed through every city, town, village, and farm-house in england, cannot be accounted for on the score of discounting. secondly, as a bank of deposit. to deposit money at the bank means to lodge it there for the sake of convenience, and to be drawn out at any moment the depositor pleases, or to be paid away to his order. when the business of discounting is great, that of depositing is necessarily small. no man deposits and applies for discounts at the same time; for it would be like paying interest for lending money, instead of for borrowing it. the deposits that are now made at the bank are almost entirely in bank notes, and consequently they add nothing to the ability of the bank to pay off the bank notes that may be presented for payment; and besides this, the deposits are no more the property of the bank than the cash or bank notes in a merchant's counting-house are the property of his book-keeper. no great increase therefore of bank notes, beyond what the discounting business admits, can be accounted for on the score of deposits. thirdly, the bank acts as banker for the government. this is the connection that threatens to ruin every public bank. it is through this connection that the credit of a bank is forced far beyond what it ought to be, and still further beyond its ability to pay. it is through this connection, that such an immense redundant quantity of bank notes, have gotten into circulation; and which, instead of being issued because there was property in the bank, have been issued because there was none. when the treasury is empty, which happens in almost every year of every war, its coffers at the bank are empty also. it is in this condition of emptiness that the minister has recourse to emissions of what are called exchequer and navy bills, which continually generates a new increase of bank notes, and which are sported upon the public, without there being property in the bank to pay them. these exchequer and navy bills (being, as i have said, emitted because the treasury and its coffers at the bank are empty, and cannot pay the demands that come in) are no other than an acknowledgment that the bearer is entitled to receive so much money. they may be compared to the settlement of an account, in which the debtor acknowledges the balance he owes, and for which he gives a note of hand; or to a note of hand given to raise money upon it. sometimes the bank discounts those bills as it would discount merchants' bills of exchange; sometimes it purchases them of the holders at the current price; and sometimes it agrees with the ministers to pay an interest upon them to the holders, and keep them in circulation. in every one of these cases an additional quantity of bank notes gets into circulation, and are sported, as i have said, upon the public, without there being property in the bank, as banker for the government, to pay them; and besides this, the bank has now no money of its own; for the money that was originally subscribed to begin the credit of the bank with, at its first establishment, has been lent to government and wasted long ago. "the bank" (says smith, book ii. chap. .) "acts not only as an ordinary bank, but as a great engine of state; it receives and pays a greater part of the annuities which are due to the creditors of the _public_." (it is worth observing, that the _public_, or the _nation_, is always put for the government, in speaking of debts.) "it circulates" (says smith) "exchequer bills, and it advances to government the annual amount of the land and malt taxes, which are frequently not paid till several years afterwards." (this advancement is also done in bank notes, for which there is not property in the bank.) "in those different operations" (says smith) "_its duty to the public_ may sometimes have obliged it, without any fault of its directors, _to overstock the circulation with paper money_."--bank notes. how its _duty_ to _the public_ can induce it _to overstock that public_ with promissory bank notes which it _cannot pay_, and thereby expose the individuals of that public to ruin, is too paradoxical to be explained; for it is on the credit which individuals _give to the bank_, by receiving and circulating its notes, and not upon its _own_ credit or its _own_ property, for it has none, that the bank sports. if, however, it be the duty of the bank to expose the public to this hazard, it is at least equally the duty of the individuals of that public to get their money and take care of themselves; and leave it to placemen, pensioners, government contractors, reeves' association, and the members of both houses of parliament, who have voted away the money at the nod of the minister, to continue the credit if they can, and for which their estates individually and collectively ought to answer, as far as they will go. there has always existed, and still exists, a mysterious, suspicious connection, between the minister and the directors of the bank, and which explains itself no otherways than by a continual increase in bank notes. without, therefore, entering into any further details of the various contrivances by which bank notes are issued, and thrown upon the public, i proceed, as i before mentioned, to offer an estimate on the total quantity of bank notes in circulation. however disposed governments may be to wring money by taxes from the people, there is a limit to the practice established by the nature of things. that limit is the proportion between the quantity of money in a nation, be that quantity what it may, and the greatest quantity of taxes that can be raised upon it. people have other uses for money besides paying taxes; and it is only a proportional part of the money they can spare for taxes, as it is only a proportional part they can spare for house-rent, for clothing, or for any other particular use. these proportions find out and establish themselves; and that with such exactness, that if any one part exceeds its proportion, all the other parts feel it. before the invention of paper money (bank notes,) there was no other money in the nation than gold and silver, and the greatest quantity of money that was ever raised in taxes during that period never exceeded a fourth part of the quantity of money in the nation. it was high taxing when it came to this point. the taxes in the time of william iii. never reached to four millions before the invention of paper, and the quantity of money in the nation at that time was estimated to be about sixteen millions. the same proportions established themselves in france. there was no paper money in france before the present revolution, and the taxes were collected in gold and silver money. the highest quantity of taxes never exceeded twenty-two millions sterling; and the quantity of gold and silver money in the nation at the same time, as stated by m. neckar, from returns of coinage at the mint, in his treatise on the administration of the finances, was about ninety millions sterling. to go beyond this limit of a fourth part, in england, they were obliged to introduce paper money; and the attempt to go beyond it in france, where paper could not be introduced, broke up the government. this proportion, therefore, of a fourth part, is the limit which the thing establishes for itself, be the quantity of money in a nation more or less. the amount of taxes in england at this time is full twenty millions; and therefore the quantity of gold and silver, and of bank notes, taken together, amounts to eighty millions. the quantity of gold and silver, as stated by lord hawkes-bury's secretary, george chalmers, as i have before shown, is twenty millions; and, therefore, the total amount of bank notes in circulation, all made payable on demand, is sixty millions. this enormous sum will astonish the most stupid stock-jobber, and overpower the credulity of the most thoughtless englishman: but were it only a third part of that sum, the bank cannot pay half a crown in the pound. there is something curious in the movements of this modern complicated machine, the funding system; and it is only now that it is beginning to unfold the full extent of its movements. in the first part of its movements it gives great powers into the hands of government, and in the last part it takes them completely away. the funding system set out with raising revenues under the name of loans, by means of which government became both prodigal and powerful. the loaners assumed the name of creditors, and though it was soon discovered that loaning was government-jobbing, those pretended loaners, or the persons who purchased into the funds afterwards, conceived themselves not only to be creditors, but to be the _only_ creditors. but such has been the operation of this complicated machine, the funding system, that it has produced, unperceived, a second generation of creditors, more numerous and far more formidable and withal more real than the first generation; for every holder of a bank note is a creditor, and a real creditor, and the debt due to him is made payable on demand. the debt therefore which the government owes to individuals is composed of two parts; the one about four hundred millions bearing interest, the other about sixty millions payable on demand. the one is called the funded debt, the other is the debt due in bank notes. the second debt (that contained in the bank notes) has, in a great measure, been incurred to pay the interest of the first debt; so that in fact little or no real interest has been paid by government. the whole has been delusion and fraud. government first contracted a debt, in the form of loans, with one class of people, and then run clandestinely into debt with another class, by means of bank notes, to pay the interest. government acted of itself in contracting the first debt, and made a machine of the bank to contract the second. it is this second debt that changes the seat of power and the order of things; for it puts it in the power of even a small part of the holders of bank notes (had they no other motives than disgust at pitt and grenville's sedition bills,) to control any measure of government they found to be injurious to their interest; and that not by popular meetings, or popular societies, but by the simple and easy opera-tion of withholding their credit from that government; that is, by individually demanding payment at the bank for every bank note that comes into their hands. why should pitt and grenville expect that the very men whom they insult and injure, should, at the same time, continue to support the measures of pitt and grenville, by giving credit to their promissory notes of payment? no new emissions of bank notes could go on while payment was demanding on the old, and the cash in the bank wasting daily away; nor any new advances be made to government, or to the emperor, to carry on the war; nor any new emission be made on exchequer bills. "_the bank_" says smith, (book ii. chap. ) "_is a great engine of state_." and in the same paragraph he says, "_the stability of the bank is equal to that of the british government_;" which is the same as to say that the stability of the government is equal to that of the bank, and no more. if then the bank cannot pay, the _arch-treasurer_ of the holy roman empire (s. r. i. a.*) is a bankrupt. when folly invented titles, she did not attend to their application; forever since the government of england has been in the hands of _arch-treasurers_, it has been running into bankruptcy; and as to the arch-treasurer _apparent_, he has been a bankrupt long ago. what a miserable prospect has england before its eyes! * put of the inscription on an english guinea.--_author_. before the war of there were no bank notes lower than twenty pounds. during that war, bank notes of fifteen pounds and of ten pounds were coined; and now, since the commencement of the present war, they are coined as low as five pounds. these five-pound notes will circulate chiefly among little shop-keepers, butchers, bakers, market-people, renters of small houses, lodgers, &c. all the high departments of commerce and the affluent stations of life were already _overstocked_, as smith expresses it, with the bank notes. no place remained open wherein to crowd an additional quantity of bank notes but among the class of people i have just mentioned, and the means of doing this could be best effected by coining five-pound notes. this conduct has the appearance of that of an unprincipled insolvent, who, when on the verge of bankruptcy to the amount of many thousands, will borrow as low as five pounds of the servants in his house, and break the next day. but whatever momentary relief or aid the minister and his bank might expect from this low contrivance of five-pound notes, it will increase the inability of the bank to pay the higher notes, and hasten the destruction of all; for even the small taxes that used to be paid in money will now be paid in those notes, and the bank will soon find itself with scarcely any other money than what the hair-powder guinea-tax brings in. the bank notes make the most serious part of the business of finance: what is called the national funded debt is but a trifle when put in comparison with it; yet the case of the bank notes has never been touched upon. but it certainly ought to be known upon what authority, whether that of the minister or of the directors, and upon what foundation, such immense quantities are issued. i have stated the amount of them at sixty millions; i have produced data for that estimation; and besides this, the apparent quantity of them, far beyond that of gold and silver in the nation, corroborates the statement. but were there but a third part of sixty millions, the bank cannot pay half a crown in the pound; for no new supply of money, as before said, can arrive at the bank, as all the taxes will be paid in paper. when the funding system began, it was not doubted that the loans that had been borrowed would be repaid. government not only propagated that belief, but it began paying them off. in time this profession came to be abandoned: and it is not difficult to see that bank notes will march the same way; for the amount of them is only another debt under another name; and the probability is that mr. pitt will at last propose funding them. in that case bank notes will not be so valuable as french assignats. the assignats have a solid property in reserve, in the national domains; bank notes have none; and, besides this, the english revenue must then sink down to what the amount of it was before the funding system began--between three and four millions; one of which the _arch-treasurer_ would require for himself, and the arch-treasurer _apparent_ would require three-quarters of a million more to pay his debts. "_in france_," says sterne, "_they order these things better_." i have now exposed the english system of finance to the eyes of all nations; for this work will be published in all languages. in doing this, i have done an act of justice to those numerous citizens of neutral nations who have been imposed upon by that fraudulent system, and who have property at stake upon the event. as an individual citizen of america, and as far as an individual can go, i have revenged (if i may use the expression without any immoral meaning) the piratical depredations committed on the american commerce by the english government. i have retaliated for france on the subject of finance: and i conclude with retorting on mr. pitt the expression he used against france, and say, that the english system of finance "is on the verge, nay even in the gulph of bankruptcy." thomas paine. paris, th germinal. th year of the republic, april , . xxvii. forgetfulness.( ) this undated composition, of much biographical interest, was shown by paine to henry redhead yorke, who visited him in paris ( ), and was allowed to copy the only portions now preserved. in the last of yorke's letters from france (lond., ), thirty-three pages are given to paine. under the name "little corner of the world," lady smyth wrote cheering letters to paine in his prison, and he replied to his then unknown correspondent under the name of "the castle in die air." after his release he discovered in his correspondent a lady who had appealed to him for assistance, no doubt for her husband. with sir robert (an english banker in paris) and lady smyth, paine formed a fast friendship which continued through life. sir robert was born in , and married ( ) a miss blake of hanover square, london. he died in of illness brought on by his imprisonment under napoleon. several of paine's poems were addressed to lady smyth.--_editor._ from "the castle in the air," to the "little corner of the world." memory, like a beauty that is always present to hear her-self flattered, is flattered by every one. but the absent and silent goddess, forgetfulness, has no votaries, and is never thought of: yet we owe her much. she is the goddess of ease, though not of pleasure. when the mind is like a room hung with black, and every corner of it crowded with the most horrid images imagination can create, this kind speechless goddess of a maid, forgetfulness, is following us night and day with her opium wand, and gently touching first one, and then another, benumbs them into rest, and at last glides them away with the silence of a departing shadow. it is thus the tortured mind is restored to the calm condition of ease, and fitted for happiness. how dismal must the picture of life appear to the mind in that dreadful moment when it resolves on darkness, and to die! one can scarcely believe such a choice was possible. yet how many of the young and beautiful, timid in every thing else, and formed for delight, have shut their eyes upon the world, and made the waters their sepulchral bed! ah, would they in that crisis, when life and death are before them, and each within their reach, would they but think, or try to think, that forgetfulness will come to their relief, and lull them into ease, they could stay their hand, and lay hold of life. but there is a necromancy in wretchedness that entombs the mind, and increases the misery, by shutting out every ray of light and hope. it makes the wretched falsely believe they will be wretched ever. it is the most fatal of all dangerous delusions; and it is only when this necromantic night-mare of the mind begins to vanish, by being resisted, that it is discovered to be but a tyrannic spectre. all grief, like all things else, will yield to the obliterating power of time. while despair is preying on the mind, time and its effects are preying on despair; and certain it is, the dismal vision will fade away, and forgetfulness, with her sister ease, will change the scene. then let not the wretched be rash, but wait, painful as the struggle may be, the arrival of forgetfulness; for it will certainly arrive. i have twice been present at the scene of attempted suicide. the one a love-distracted girl in england, the other of a patriotic friend in france; and as the circumstances of each are strongly pictured in my memory, i will relate them to you. they will in some measure corroborate what i have said of forgetfulness. about the year , i was in lincolnshire, in england, and on a visit at the house of a widow lady, mrs. e____, at a small village in the fens of that county. it was in summer; and one evening after supper, mrs. e____ and myself went to take a turn in the garden. it was about eleven o'clock, and to avoid the night air of the fens, we were walking in a bower, shaded over with hazel bushes. on a sudden, she screamed out, and cried "lord, look, look!" i cast my eyes through the openings of the hazel bushes in the direction she was looking, and saw a white shapeless figure, without head or arms, moving along one of the walks at some distance from us. i quitted mrs. e______, and went after it. when i got into the walk where the figure was, and was following it, it took up another walk. there was a holly bush in the corner of the two walks, which, it being night, i did not observe; and as i continued to step forward, the holly bush came in a straight line between me and the figure, and i lost sight of it; and as i passed along one walk, and the figure the other, the holly bush still continued to intercept the view, so as to give the appearance that the figure had vanished. when i came to the corner of the two walks, i caught sight of it again, and coming up with it, i reached out my hand to touch it; and in the act of doing this, the idea struck me, will my hand pass through the air, or shall i feel any thing? less than a moment would decide this, and my hand rested on the shoulder of a human figure. i spoke, but do not recollect what i said. it answered in a low voice, "pray let me alone." i then knew who it was. it was a young lady who was on a visit to mrs. e------, and who, when we sat down to supper, said she found herself extremely ill, and would go to bed. i called to mrs. e------, who came, and i said to her, "it is miss n------." mrs. e------ said, "my god, i hope you are not going to do yourself any hurt;" for mrs. e------ suspected something. she replied with pathetic melancholy, "life has not one pleasure for me." we got her into the house, and mrs. e------ took her to sleep with her. the case was, the man to whom she expected to be married had forsaken her, and when she heard he was to be married to another the shock appeared to her to be too great to be borne. she had retired, as i have said, to her room, and when she supposed all the family were gone to bed, (which would have been the case if mrs. e------ and i had not walked into the garden,) she undressed herself, and tied her apron over her head; which, descending below her waist, gave her the shapeless figure i have spoken of. with this and a white under petticoat and slippers, for she had taken out her buckles and put them at the servant maid's door, i suppose as a keepsake, and aided by the obscurity of almost midnight, she came down stairs, and was going to drown her-self in a pond at the bottom of the garden, towards which she was going when mrs. e------screamed out. we found afterwards that she had heard the scream, and that was the cause of her changing her walk. by gentle usage, and leading her into subjects that might, without doing violence to her feelings, and without letting her see the direct intention of it, steal her as it were from the horror she was in, (and i felt a compassionate, earnest disposition to do it, for she was a good girl,) she recovered her former cheerfulness, and was afterwards a happy wife, and the mother of a family. the other case, and the conclusion in my next: in paris, in , had lodgings in the rue fauxbourg, st. denis, no. .( ) they were the most agreeable, for situation, of any i ever had in paris, except that they were too remote from the convention, of which i was then a member. but this was recompensed by their being also remote from the alarms and confusion into which the interior of paris was then often thrown. the news of those things used to arrive to us, as if we were in a state of tranquility in the country. the house, which was enclosed by a wall and gateway from the street, was a good deal like an old mansion farm house, and the court yard was like a farm-yard, stocked with fowls, ducks, turkies, and geese; which, for amusement, we used to feed out of the parlour window on the ground floor. there were some hutches for rabbits, and a sty with two pigs. beyond, was a garden of more than an acre of ground, well laid out, and stocked with excellent fruit trees. the orange, apricot, and green-gage plum, were the best i ever tasted; and it is the only place where i saw the wild cucumber. the place had formerly been occupied by some curious person.( ) this ancient mansion is still standing ( ).--_editor._ madame de pompadour, among others.--_editor._» my apartments consisted of three rooms; the first for wood, water, etc., with an old fashioned closet chest, high enough to hang up clothes in; the next was the bed room; and beyond it the sitting room, which looked into the garden through a glass door; and on the outside there was a small landing place railed in, and a flight of narrow stairs almost hidden by the vines that grew over it, by which i could descend into the garden, without going down stairs through the house. i am trying by description to make you see the place in your mind, because it will assist the story i have to tell; and which i think you can do, because you once called upon me there on account of sir [robert smyth], who was then, as i was soon afterwards, in arrestation. but it was winter when you came, and it is a summer scene i am describing. ***** i went into my chambers to write and sign a certificate for them, which i intended to take to the guard house to obtain their release. just as i had finished it a man came into my room dressed in the parisian uniform of a captain, and spoke to me in good english, and with a good address. he told me that two young men, englishmen, were arrested and detained in the guard house, and that the section, (meaning those who represented and acted for the section,) had sent him to ask me if i knew them, in which case they would be liberated. this matter being soon settled between us, he talked to me about the revolution, and something about the "rights of man," which he had read in english; and at parting offered me in a polite and civil manner, his services. and who do you think the man was that offered me his services? it was no other than the public executioner samson, who guillotined the king, and all who were guillotined in paris; and who lived in the same section, and in the same street with me. ***** as to myself, i used to find some relief by walking alone in the garden after dark, and cursing with hearty good will the authors of that terrible system that had turned the character of the revolution i had been proud to defend. i went but little to the convention, and then only to make my appearance; because i found it impossible to join in their tremendous decrees, and useless and dangerous to oppose them. my having voted and spoken extensively, more so than any other member, against the execution of the king, had already fixed a mark upon me: neither dared any of my associates in the convention to translate and speak in french for me anything i might have dared to have written. ***** pen and ink were then of no use to me: no good could be done by writing, and no printer dared to print; and whatever i might have written for my private amusement, as anecdotes of the times, would have been continually exposed to be examined, and tortured into any meaning that the rage of party might fix upon it; and as to softer subjects, my heart was in distress at the fate of my friends, and my harp hung upon the weeping willows.( ) as it was summer we spent most of our time in the garden, and passed it away in those childish amusements that serve to keep reflection from the mind, such as marbles, scotch-hops, battledores, etc., at which we were all pretty expert. in this retired manner we remained about six or seven weeks, and our landlord went every evening into the city to bring us the news of the day and the evening journal. i have now, my "little corner of the world," led you on, step by step, to the scene that makes the sequel to this narrative, and i will put that scene before your eyes. you shall see it in description as i saw it in fact. this allusion is to the girondins.--_editor._, yorke omits the description "from motives of personal delicacy." the case was that of young johnson, a wealthy devotee of paine in london, who had followed him to paris and lived in the same house with him. hearing that marat had resolved on paine's death, johnson wrote a will bequeathing his property to paine, then stabbed himself, but recovered. paine was examined about this incident at marat's trial. (moniteur, april , .) see my "life of paine," vol. ii., p. seq.--_editor._. ***** he recovered, and being anxious to get out of france, a passage was obtained for him and mr. choppin: they received it late in the evening, and set off the next morning for basle before four, from which place i had a letter from them, highly pleased with their escape from france, into which they had entered with an enthusiasm of patriotic devotion. ah, france! thou hast ruined the character of a revolution virtuously begun, and destroyed those who produced it. i might almost say like job's servant, "and i only am escaped." two days after they were gone i heard a rapping at the gate, and looking out of the window of the bed room i saw the landlord going with the candle to the gate, which he opened, and a guard with musquets and fixed bayonets entered. i went to bed again, and made up my mind for prison, for i was then the only lodger. it was a guard to take up [johnson and choppin], but, i thank god, they were out of their reach. the guard came about a month after in the night, and took away the landlord georgeit; and the scene in the house finished with the arrestation of myself. this was soon after you called on me, and sorry i was it was not in my power to render to [sir robert smyth] the service that you asked. i have now fulfilled my engagement, and i hope your expectation, in relating the case of [johnson], landed back on the shore of life, by the mistake of the pilot who was conducting him out; and preserved afterwards from prison, perhaps a worse fate, without knowing it himself. you say a story cannot be too melancholy for you. this is interesting and affecting, but not melancholy. it may raise in your mind a sympathetic sentiment in reading it; and though it may start a tear of pity, you will not have a tear of sorrow to drop on the page. ***** here, my contemplative correspondent, let us stop and look back upon the scene. the matters here related being all facts, are strongly pictured in my mind, and in this sense forgetfulness does not apply. but facts and feelings are distinct things, and it is against feelings that the opium wand of forgetfulness draws us into ease. look back on any scene or subject that once gave you distress, for all of us have felt some, and you will find, that though the remembrance of the fact is not extinct in your memory, the feeling is extinct in your mind. you can remember when you had felt distress, but you cannot feel that distress again, and perhaps will wonder you felt it then. it is like a shadow that loses itself by light. it is often difficult to know what is a misfortune: that which we feel as a great one today, may be the means of turning aside our steps into some new path that leads to happiness yet unknown. in tracing the scenes of my own life, i can discover that the condition i now enjoy, which is sweet to me, and will be more so when i get to america, except by the loss of your society, has been produced, in the first instance, in my being disappointed in former projects. under that impenetrable veil, futurity, we know not what is concealed, and the day to arrive is hidden from us. turning then our thoughts to those cases of despair that lead to suicide, when, "the mind," as you say, "neither sees nor hears, and holds counsel only with itself; when the very idea of consolation would add to the torture, and self-destruction is its only aim," what, it may be asked, is the best advice, what the best relief? i answer, seek it not in reason, for the mind is at war with reason, and to reason against feelings is as vain as to reason against fire: it serves only to torture the torture, by adding reproach to horror. all reasoning with ourselves in such cases acts upon us like the reason of another person, which, however kindly done, serves but to insult the misery we suffer. if reason could remove the pain, reason would have prevented it. if she could not do the one, how is she to perform the other? in all such cases we must look upon reason as dispossessed of her empire, by a revolt of the mind. she retires herself to a distance to weep, and the ebony sceptre of despair rules alone. all that reason can do is to suggest, to hint a thought, to signify a wish, to cast now and then a kind of bewailing look, to hold up, when she can catch the eye, the miniature-shaded portrait of hope; and though dethroned, and can dictate no more, to wait upon us in the humble station of a handmaid. xxviii. agrarian justice. editor's introduction: this pamphlet appeared first in paris, , with the title: "thomas payne à la législature et au directoire. ou la justice agraire opposée à la loi agraire, et aux privilèges agraires. prix sols. À paris, chez la citoyenne ragouleau, près le théâtre de la république, no. . et chez les marchands de nouveautés." a prefatory note says (translated): "the sudden departure of thomas paine has pre-vented his supervising the translation of this work, to which he attached great value. he entrusted it to a friend. it is for the reader to decide whether the scheme here set forth is worthy of the publicity given it." (paine had gone to havre early in may with the monroes, intending to accompany them to america, but, rightly suspecting plans for his capture by an english cruiser, returned to paris.) in the same year the pamphlet was printed in english, by w. adlard in paris, and in london for "t. williams, no. little turnstile, holborn." paine's preface to the london edition contained some sentences which the publishers, as will be seen, suppressed under asterisks, and two sentences were omitted from the pamphlet which i have supplied from the french. the english title adds a brief resume of paine's scheme to the caption--"agrarian justice opposed to agrarian law, and to agrarian monopoly." the work was written in the winter of - , when paine was still an invalid in monroe's house, though not published until . the prefatory letter to the legislature and the directory, now for the first time printed in english, is of much historical interest, and shows the title of the pamphlet related to the rise of socialism in france. the leader of that move-ment, françois noel babeuf, a frantic and pathetic figure of the time, had just been executed. he had named himself "gracchus," and called his journal "tribune du peuple," in homage to the roman tribune, caius gracchus, the original socialist and agrarian, whose fate (suicide of himself and his servant) babeuf and his disciple darthé invoked in prison, whence they were carried bleeding to the guillotine. this, however, was on account of the conspiracy they had formed, with the remains of the robespierrian party and some disguised royalists, to overthrow the government. the socialistic propaganda of babeuf, however, prevailed over all other elements of the conspiracy: the reactionary features of the constitution, especially the property qualification of suffrage of whose effects paine had warned the convention in the speech printed in this volume, (chapter xxv.) and the poverty which survived a revolution that promised its abolition, had excited wide discontent. the "babouvists" numbered as many as , in paris. babeuf and lepelletier were appointed by the secret council of this fraternity (which took the name of "equals") a "directory of public safety." may , , was fixed for seizing on the government, and babeuf had prepared his proclamation of the socialistic millennium. but the plot was discovered, may th, the leaders arrested, and, after a year's delay, two of them executed,--the best-hearted men in the movement, babeuf and darthé. paine too had been moved by the cry for "bread, and the constitution of ' "; and it is a notable coincidence that in that winter of - , while the socialists were secretly plotting to seize the kingdom of heaven by violence, paine was devising his plan of relief by taxing inheritances of land, anticipating by a hundred years the english budget of sir william harcourt. babeuf having failed in his socialist, and pichegru in his royalist, plot, their blows were yet fatal: there still remained in the hearts of millions a babeuf or a pichegru awaiting the chieftain strong enough to combine them, as napoleon presently did, making all the nation "Égaux" as parts of a mighty military engine, and satisfying the royalist triflers with the pomp and glory of war. author's inscription. to the legislature and the executive directory of the french republic. the plan contained in this work is not adapted for any particular country alone: the principle on which it is based is general. but as the rights of man are a new study in this world, and one needing protection from priestly imposture, and the insolence of oppressions too long established, i have thought it right to place this little work under your safeguard. when we reflect on the long and dense night in which france and all europe have remained plunged by their governments and their priests, we must feel less surprise than grief at the bewilderment caused by the first burst of light that dispels the darkness. the eye accustomed to darkness can hardly bear at first the broad daylight. it is by usage the eye learns to see, and it is the same in passing from any situation to its opposite. as we have not at one instant renounced all our errors, we cannot at one stroke acquire knowledge of all our rights. france has had the honour of adding to the word _liberty_ that of _equality_; and this word signifies essentially a principal that admits of no gradation in the things to which it applies. but equality is often misunderstood, often misapplied, and often violated. _liberty_ and _property_ are words expressing all those of our possessions which are not of an intellectual nature. there are two kinds of property. firstly, natural property, or that which comes to us from the creator of the universe,--such as the earth, air, water. secondly, artificial or acquired property,--the invention of men. in the latter equality is impossible; for to distribute it equally it would be necessary that all should have contributed in the same proportion, which can never be the case; and this being the case, every individual would hold on to his own property, as his right share. equality of natural property is the subject of this little essay. every individual in the world is born therein with legitimate claims on a certain kind of property, or its equivalent. the right of voting for persons charged with the execution of the laws that govern society is inherent in the word liberty, and constitutes the equality of personal rights. but even if that right (of voting) were inherent in property, which i deny, the right of suffrage would still belong to all equally, because, as i have said, all individuals have legitimate birthrights in a certain species of property. i have always considered the present constitution of the french republic the _best organized system_ the human mind has yet produced. but i hope my former colleagues will not be offended if i warn them of an error which has slipped into its principle. equality of the right of suffrage is not maintained. this right is in it connected with a condition on which it ought not to depend; that is, with a proportion of a certain tax called "direct." the dignity of suffrage is thus lowered; and, in placing it in the scale with an inferior thing, the enthusiasm that right is capable of inspiring is diminished. it is impossible to find any equivalent counterpoise for the right of suffrage, because it is alone worthy to be its own basis, and cannot thrive as a graft, or an appendage. since the constitution was established we have seen two conspiracies stranded,--that of babeuf, and that of some obscure personages who decorate themselves with the despicable name of "royalists." the defect in principle of the constitution was the origin of babeuf's conspiracy. he availed himself of the resentment caused by this flaw, and instead of seeking a remedy by legitimate and constitutional means, or proposing some measure useful to society, the conspirators did their best to renew disorder and confusion, and constituted themselves personally into a directory, which is formally destructive of election and representation. they were, in fine, extravagant enough to suppose that society, occupied with its domestic affairs, would blindly yield to them a directorship usurped by violence. the conspiracy of babeuf was followed in a few months by that of the royalists, who foolishly flattered themselves with the notion of doing great things by feeble or foul means. they counted on all the discontented, from whatever cause, and tried to rouse, in their turn, the class of people who had been following the others. but these new chiefs acted as if they thought society had nothing more at heart than to maintain courtiers, pensioners, and all their train, under the contemptible title of royalty. my little essay will disabuse them, by showing that society is aiming at a very different end,--maintaining itself. we all know or should know, that the time during which a revolution is proceeding is not the time when its resulting advantages can be enjoyed. but had babeuf and his accomplices taken into consideration the condition of france under this constitution, and compared it with what it was under the tragical revolutionary government, and during the execrable reign of terror, the rapidity of the alteration must have appeared to them very striking and astonishing. famine has been replaced by abundance, and by the well-founded hope of a near and increasing prosperity. as for the defect in the constitution, i am fully convinced that it will be rectified constitutionally, and that this step is indispensable; for so long as it continues it will inspire the hopes and furnish the means of conspirators; and for the rest, it is regrettable that a constitution so wisely organized should err so much in its principle. this fault exposes it to other dangers which will make themselves felt. intriguing candidates will go about among those who have not the means to pay the direct tax and pay it for them, on condition of receiving their votes. let us maintain inviolably equality in the sacred right of suffrage: public security can never have a basis more solid. salut et fraternité. your former colleague, thomas paine. author's english preface. the following little piece was written in the winter of and ; and, as i had not determined whether to publish it during the present war, or to wait till the commencement of a peace, it has lain by me, without alteration or addition, from the time it was written. what has determined me to publish it now is, a sermon preached by watson, _bishop of llandaff_. some of my readers will recollect, that this bishop wrote a book entitled _an apology for the bible_ in answer to my _second part of the age of reason_. i procured a copy of his book, and he may depend upon hearing from me on that subject. at the end of the bishop's book is a list of the works he has written. among which is the sermon alluded to; it is entitled: "the wisdom and goodness of god, in having made both rich and poor; with an appendix, containing reflections on the present state of england and france." the error contained in this sermon determined me to publish my agrarian justice. it is wrong to say god made _rich and poor_; he made only _male and female_; and he gave them the earth for their inheritance. '... instead of preaching to encourage one part of mankind in insolence... it would be better that priests employed their time to render the general condition of man less miserable than it is. practical religion consists in doing good: and the only way of serving god is, that of endeavouring to make his creation happy. all preaching that has not this for its object is nonsense and hypocracy. the omissions are noted in the english edition of .-- _editor._. to preserve the benefits of what is called civilized life, and to remedy at the same time the evil which it has produced, ought to be considered as one of the first objects of reformed legislation. whether that state that is proudly, perhaps erroneously, called civilization, has most promoted or most injured the general happiness of man, is a question that may be strongly contested. on one side, the spectator is dazzled by splendid appearances; on the other, he is shocked by extremes of wretchedness; both of which it has erected. the most affluent and the most miserable of the human race are to be found in the countries that are called civilized. to understand what the state of society ought to be, it is necessary to have some idea of the natural and primitive state of man; such as it is at this day among the indians of north america. there is not, in that state, any of those spectacles of human misery which poverty and want present to our eyes in all the towns and streets in europe. poverty, therefore, is a thing created by that which is called civilized life. it exists not in the natural state. on the other hand, the natural state is without those advantages which flow from agriculture, arts, science, and manufactures. the life of an indian is a continual holiday, compared with the poor of europe; and, on the other hand it appears to be abject when compared to the rich. civilization, therefore, or that which is so called, has operated two ways: to make one part of society more affluent, and the other more wretched, than would have been the lot of either in a natural state. it is always possible to go from the natural to the civilized state, but it is never possible to go from the civilized to the natural state. the reason is, that man in a natural state, subsisting by hunting, requires ten times the quantity of land to range over to procure himself sustenance, than would support him in a civilized state, where the earth is cultivated. when, therefore, a country becomes populous by the additional aids of cultivation, art, and science, there is a necessity of preserving things in that state; because without it there cannot be sustenance for more, perhaps, than a tenth part of its inhabitants. the thing, therefore, now to be done is to remedy the evils and preserve the benefits that have arisen to society by passing from the natural to that which is called the civilized state. in taking the matter upon this ground, the first principle of civilization ought to have been, and ought still to be, that the condition of every person born into the world, after a state of civilization commences, ought not to be worse than if he had been born before that period. but the fact is, that the condition of millions, in every country in europe, is far worse than if they had been born before civilization began, or had been born among the indians of north america at the present day. i will shew how this fact has happened. it is a position not to be controverted that the earth, in its natural uncultivated state was, and ever would have continued to be, _the common property of the human race_. in that state every man would have been born to property. he would have been a joint life proprietor with the rest in the property of the soil, and in all its natural productions, vegetable and animal. but the earth in its natural state, as before said, is capable of supporting but a small number of inhabitants compared with what it is capable of doing in a cultivated state. and as it is impossible to separate the improvement made by cultivation from the earth itself, upon which that improvement is made, the idea of landed property arose from that inseparable connection; but it is nevertheless true, that it is the value of the improvement only, and not the earth itself, that is individual property. every proprietor, therefore, of cultivated land, owes to the community a _ground-rent_ (for i know of no better term to express the idea) for the land which he holds; and it is from this ground-rent that the fund proposed in this plan is to issue. it is deducible, as well from the nature of the thing as from all the histories transmitted to us, that the idea of landed property commenced with cultivation, and that there was no such thing as landed property before that time. it could not exist in the first state of man, that of hunters. it did not exist in the second state, that of shepherds: neither abraham, isaac, jacob, nor job, so far as the history of the bible may be credited in probable things, were owners of land. their property consisted, as is always enumerated, in flocks and herds, and they travelled with them from place to place. the frequent contentions at that time, about the use of a well in the dry country of arabia, where those people lived, also shew that there was no landed property. it was not admitted that land could be claimed as property. there could be no such thing as landed property originally. man did not make the earth, and, though he had a natural right to occupy it, he had no right to locate as his property in perpetuity any part of it; neither did the creator of the earth open a land-office, from whence the first title-deeds should issue. whence then, arose the idea of landed property? i answer as before, that when cultivation began the idea of landed property began with it, from the impossibility of separating the improvement made by cultivation from the earth itself, upon which that improvement was made. the value of the improvement so far exceeded the value of the natural earth, at that time, as to absorb it; till, in the end, the common right of all became confounded into the cultivated right of the individual. but there are, nevertheless, distinct species of rights, and will continue to be so long as the earth endures. it is only by tracing things to their origin that we can gain rightful ideas of them, and it is by gaining such ideas that we discover the boundary that divides right from wrong, and teaches every man to know his own. i have entitled this tract agrarian justice, to distinguish it from agrarian law. nothing could be more unjust than agrarian law in a country improved by cultivation; for though every man, as an inhabitant of the earth, is a joint proprietor of it in its natural state, it does not follow that he is a joint proprietor of cultivated earth. the additional value made by cultivation, after the system was admitted, became the property of those who did it, or who inherited it from them, or who purchased it. it had originally no owner. whilst, therefore, i advocate the right, and interest myself in the hard case of all those who have been thrown out of their natural inheritance by the introduction of the system of landed property, i equally defend the right of the possessor to the part which is his. cultivation is at least one of the greatest natural improvements ever made by human invention. it has given to created earth a tenfold value. but the landed monopoly that began with it has produced the greatest evil. it has dispossessed more than half the inhabitants of every nation of their natural inheritance, without providing for them, as ought to have been done, an indemnification for that loss, and has thereby created a species of poverty and wretchedness that did not exist before. in advocating the case of the persons thus dispossessed, it is a right, and not a charity, that i am pleading for. but it is that kind of right which, being neglected at first, could not be brought forward afterwards till heaven had opened the way by a revolution in the system of government. let us then do honour to revolutions by justice, and give currency to their principles by blessings. having thus in a few words, opened the merits of the case, i shall now proceed to the plan i have to propose, which is, to create a national fund, out of which there shall be paid to every person, when arrived at the age of twenty-one years, the sum of fifteen pounds sterling, as a compensation in part, for the loss of his or her natural inheritance, by the introduction of the system of landed property: and also, the sum of ten pounds per annum, during life, to every person now living, of the age of fifty years, and to all others as they shall arrive at that age. means by which the fund is to be created. i have already established the principle, namely, that the earth, in its natural uncultivated state was, and ever would have continued to be, the _common property of the human race_; that in that state, every person would have been born to property; and that the system of landed property, by its inseparable connection with cultivation, and with what is called civilized life, has absorbed the property of all those whom it dispossessed, without providing, as ought to have been done, an indemnification for that loss. the fault, however, is not in the present possessors. no complaint is intended, or ought to be alleged against them, unless they adopt the crime by opposing justice. the fault is in the system, and it has stolen imperceptibly upon the world, aided afterwards by the agrarian law of the sword. but the fault can be made to reform itself by successive generations; and without diminishing or deranging the property of any of the present possessors, the operation of the fund can yet commence, and be in full activity, the first year of its establishment, or soon after, as i shall shew. it is proposed that the payments, as already stated, be made to every person, rich or poor. it is best to make it so, to prevent invidious distinctions. it is also right it should be so, because it is in lieu of the natural inheritance, which, as a right, belongs to every man, over and above the property he may have created, or inherited from those who did. such persons as do not choose to receive it can throw it into the common fund. taking it then for granted that no person ought to be in a worse condition when born under what is called a state of civilization, than he would have been had he been born in a state of nature, and that civilization ought to have made, and ought still to make, provision for that purpose, it can only be done by subtracting from property a portion equal in value to the natural inheritance it has absorbed. various methods may be proposed for this purpose, but that which appears to be the best (not only because it will operate without deranging any present possessors, or without interfering with the collection of taxes or emprunts necessary for the purposes of government and the revolution, but because it will be the least troublesome and the most effectual, and also because the subtraction will be made at a time that best admits it) is at the moment that.. property is passing by the death of one person to the possession of another. in this case, the bequeather gives nothing: the receiver pays nothing. the only matter to him is, that the monopoly of natural inheritance, to which there never was a right, begins to cease in his person. a generous man would not wish it to continue, and a just man will rejoice to see it abolished. my state of health prevents my making sufficient inquiries with respect to the doctrine of probabilities, whereon to found calculations with such degrees of certainty as they are capable of. what, therefore, i offer on this head is more the result of observation and reflection than of received information; but i believe it will be found to agree sufficiently with fact. in the first place, taking twenty-one years as the epoch of maturity, all the property of a nation, real and personal, is always in the possession of persons above that age. it is then necessary to know, as a datum of calculation, the average of years which persons above that age will live. i take this average to be about thirty years, for though many persons will live forty, fifty, or sixty years after the age of twenty-one years, others will die much sooner, and some in every year of that time. taking, then, thirty years as the average of time, it will give, without any material variation one way or other, the average of time in which the whole property or capital of a nation, or a sum equal thereto, will have passed through one entire revolution in descent, that is, will have gone by deaths to new possessors; for though, in many instances, some parts of this capital will remain forty, fifty, or sixty years in the possession of one person, other parts will have revolved two or three times before those thirty years expire, which will bring it to that average; for were one half the capital of a nation to revolve twice in thirty years, it would produce the same fund as if the whole revolved once. taking, then, thirty years as the average of time in which the whole capital of a nation, or a sum equal thereto, will revolve once, the thirtieth part thereof will be the sum that will revolve every year, that is, will go by deaths to new possessors; and this last sum being thus known, and the ratio per cent, to be subtracted from it determined, it will give the annual amount or income of the proposed fund, to be applied as already mentioned. in looking over the discourse of the english minister, pitt, in his opening of what is called in england the budget, (the scheme of finance for the year ,) i find an estimate of the national capital of that country. as this estimate of a national capital is prepared ready to my hand, i take it as a datum to act upon. when a calculation is made upon the known capital of any nation, combined with its population, it will serve as a scale for any other nation, in proportion as its capital and population be more or less. i am the more disposed to take this estimate of mr. pitt, for the purpose of showing to that minister, upon his own calculation, how much better money may be employed than in wasting it, as he has done, on the wild project of setting up bourbon kings. what, in the name of heaven, are bourbon kings to the people of england? it is better that the people have bread. mr. pitt states the national capital of england, real and personal, to be one thousand three hundred millions sterling, which is about one-fourth part of the national capital of france, including belgia. the event of the last harvest in each country proves that the soil of france is more productive than that of england, and that it can better support twenty-four or twenty-five millions of inhabitants than that of england can seven or seven and a half millions. the thirtieth part of this capital of , , , l. is , , l. which is the part that will revolve every year by deaths in that country to new possessors; and the sum that will annually revolve in france in the proportion of four to one, will be about one hundred and seventy-three millions sterling. from this sum of , , l. annually revolving, is to be subtracted the value of the natural inheritance absorbed in it, which, perhaps, in fair justice, cannot be taken at less, and ought not to be taken for more, than a tenth part. it will always happen, that of the property thus revolving by deaths every year a part will descend in a direct line to sons and daughters, and the other part collaterally, and the proportion will be found to be about three to one; that is, about thirty millions of the above sum will descend to direct heirs, and the remaining sum of , , l. to more distant relations, and in part to strangers. considering, then, that man is always related to society, that relationship will become comparatively greater in proportion as the next of kin is more distant, it is therefore consistent with civilization to say that where there are no direct heirs society shall be heir to a part over and above the tenth part due to society. if this additional part be from five to ten or twelve per cent., in proportion as the next of kin be nearer or more remote, so as to average with the escheats that may fall, which ought always to go to society and not to the government (an addition of ten per cent, more), the produce from the annual sum of , , l. will be: [illustration: table ] having thus arrived at the annual amount of the proposed fund, i come, in the next place, to speak of the population proportioned to this fund, and to compare it with the uses to which the fund is to be applied. the population (i mean that of england) does not exceed seven millions and a half, and the number of persons above the age of fifty will in that case be about four hundred thousand. there would not, however, be more than that number that would accept the proposed ten pounds sterling per annum, though they would be entitled to it. i have no idea it would be accepted by many persons who had a yearly income of two or three hundred pounds sterling. but as we often see instances of rich people falling into sudden poverty, even at the age of sixty, they would always have the right of drawing all the arrears due to them. four millions, therefore, of the above annual sum of , , l. will be required for four hundred thousand aged persons, at ten pounds sterling each. i come now to speak of the persons annually arriving at twenty-one years of age. if all the persons who died were above the age of twenty-one years, the number of persons annually arriving at that age, must be equal to the annual number of deaths, to keep the population stationary. but the greater part die under the age of twenty-one, and therefore the number of persons annually arriving at twenty-one will be less than half the number of deaths. the whole number of deaths upon a population of seven millions and an half will be about , annually. the number arriving at twenty-one years of age will be about , . the whole number of these will not receive the proposed fifteen pounds, for the reasons already mentioned, though, as in the former case, they would be entitled to it. admitting then that a tenth part declined receiving it, the amount would stand thus: [illustration: table ] there are, in every country, a number of blind and lame persons, totally incapable of earning a livelihood. but as it will always happen that the greater number of blind persons will be among those who are above the age of fifty years, they will be provided for in that class. the remaining sum of , l. will provide for the lame and blind under that age, at the same rate of l. annually for each person. having now gone through all the necessary calculations, and stated the particulars of the plan, i shall conclude with some observations. it is not charity but a right, not bounty but justice, that i am pleading for. the present state of civilization is as odious as it is unjust. it is absolutely the opposite of what it should be, and it is necessary that a revolution should be made in it.( ) the contrast of affluence and wretchedness continually meeting and offending the eye, is like dead and living bodies chained together. though i care as little about riches, as any man, i am a friend to riches because they are capable of good. i care not how affluent some may be, provided that none be miserable in consequence of it. but it is impossible to enjoy affluence with the felicity it is capable of being enjoyed, whilst so much misery is mingled in the scene. the sight of the misery, and the unpleasant sensations it suggests, which, though they may be suffocated cannot be extinguished, are a greater drawback upon the felicity of affluence than the proposed per cent, upon property is worth. he that would not give the one to get rid of the other has no charity, even for himself. this and the preceding sentence axe omitted in all previous english and american editions.--_editor._. there are, in every country, some magnificent charities established by individuals. it is, however, but little that any individual can do, when the whole extent of the misery to be relieved is considered. he may satisfy his conscience, but not his heart. he may give all that he has, and that all will relieve but little. it is only by organizing civilization upon such principles as to act like a system of pullies, that the whole weight of misery can be removed. the plan here proposed will reach the whole. it will immediately relieve and take out of view three classes of wretchedness--the blind, the lame, and the aged poor; and it will furnish the rising generation with means to prevent their becoming poor; and it will do this without deranging or interfering with any national measures. to shew that this will be the case, it is sufficient to observe that the operation and effect of the plan will, in all cases, be the same as if every individual were _voluntarily_ to make his will and dispose of his property in the manner here proposed. but it is justice, and not charity, that is the principle of the plan. in all great cases it is necessary to have a principle more universally active than charity; and, with respect to justice, it ought not to be left to the choice of detached individuals whether they will do justice or not. considering then, the plan on the ground of justice, it ought to be the act of the whole, growing spontaneously out of the principles of the revolution, and the reputation of it ought to be national and not individual. a plan upon this principle would benefit the revolution by the energy that springs from the consciousness of justice. it would multiply also the national resources; for property, like vegetation, increases by offsets. when a young couple begin the world, the difference is exceedingly great whether they begin with nothing or with fifteen pounds apiece. with this aid they could buy a cow, and implements to cultivate a few acres of land; and instead of becoming burdens upon society, which is always the case where children are produced faster than they can be fed, would be put in the way of becoming useful and profitable citizens. the national domains also would sell the better if pecuniary aids were provided to cultivate them in small lots. it is the practice of what has unjustly obtained the name of civilization (and the practice merits not to be called either charity or policy) to make some provision for persons becoming poor and wretched only at the time they become so. would it not, even as a matter of economy, be far better to adopt means to prevent their becoming poor? this can best be done by making every person when arrived at the age of twenty-one years an inheritor of something to begin with. the rugged face of society, chequered with the extremes of affluence and want, proves that some extraordinary violence has been committed upon it, and calls on justice for redress. the great mass of the poor in all countries are become an hereditary race, and it is next to impossible for them to get cut of that state of themselves. it ought also to be observed that this mass increases in all countries that are called civilized. more persons fall annually into it than get out of it. though in a plan of which justice and humanity are the foundation-principles, interest ought not to be admitted into the calculation, yet it is always of advantage to the establishment of any plan to shew that it is beneficial as a matter of interest. the success of any proposed plan submitted to public consideration must finally depend on the numbers interested in supporting it, united with the justice of its principles. the plan here proposed will benefit all, without injuring any. it will consolidate the interest of the republic with that of the individual. to the numerous class dispossessed of their natural inheritance by the system of landed property it will be an act of national justice. to persons dying possessed of moderate fortunes it will operate as a tontine to their children, more beneficial than the sum of money paid into the fund: and it will give to the accumulation of riches a degree of security that none of the old governments of europe, now tottering on their foundations, can give. i do not suppose that more than one family in ten, in any of the countries of europe, has, when the head of the family dies, a clear property left of five hundred pounds sterling. to all such the plan is advantageous. that property would pay fifty pounds into the fund, and if there were only two children under age they would receive fifteen pounds each, (thirty pounds,) on coming of age, and be entitled to ten pounds a-year after fifty. it is from the overgrown acquisition of property that the fund will support itself; and i know that the possessors of such property in england, though they would eventually be benefited by the protection of nine-tenths of it, will exclaim against the plan. but without entering into any inquiry how they came by that property, let them recollect that they have been the advocates of this war, and that mr. pitt has already laid on more new taxes to be raised annually upon the people of england, and that for supporting the despotism of austria and the bourbons against the liberties of france, than would pay annually all the sums proposed in this plan. i have made the calculations stated in this plan, upon what is called personal, as well as upon landed property. the reason for making it upon land is already explained; and the reason for taking personal property into the calculation is equally well founded though on a different principle. land, as before said, is the free gift of the creator in common to the human race. personal property is the effect of society; and it is as impossible for an individual to acquire personal property without the aid of society, as it is for him to make land originally. separate an individual from society, and give him an island or a continent to possess, and he cannot acquire personal property. he cannot be rich. so inseparably are the means connected with the end, in all cases, that where the former do not exist the latter cannot be obtained. all accumulation, therefore, of personal property, beyond what a man's own hands produce, is derived to him by living in society; and he owes on every principle of justice, of gratitude, and of civilization, a part of that accumulation back again to society from whence the whole came. this is putting the matter on a general principle, and perhaps it is best to do so; for if we examine the case minutely it will be found that the accumulation of personal property is, in many instances, the effect of paying too little for the labour that produced it; the consequence of which is, that the working hand perishes in old age, and the employer abounds in affluence. it is, perhaps, impossible to proportion exactly the price of labour to the profits it produces; and it will also be said, as an apology for the injustice, that were a workman to receive an increase of wages daily he would not save it against old age, nor be much bet-ter for it in the interim. make, then, society the treasurer to guard it for him in a common fund; for it is no reason, that because he might not make a good use of it for himself, another should take it. the state of civilization that has prevailed throughout europe, is as unjust in its principle, as it is horrid in its effects; and it is the consciousness of this, and the apprehension that such a state cannot continue when once investigation begins in any country, that makes the possessors of property dread every idea of a revolution. it is the hazard and not the principle of revolutions that retards their progress. this being the case, it is necessary as well for the protection of property, as for the sake of justice and humanity, to form a system that, whilst it preserves one part of society from wretchedness, shall secure the other from depredation. the superstitious awe, the enslaving reverence, that formerly surrounded affluence, is passing away in all countries, and leaving the possessor of property to the convulsion of accidents. when wealth and splendour, instead of fascinating the multitude, excite emotions of disgust; when, instead of drawing forth admiration, it is beheld as an insult upon wretchedness; when the ostentatious appearance it makes serves to call the right of it in question, the case of property becomes critical, and it is only in a system of justice that the possessor can contemplate security. to remove the danger, it is necessary to remove the antipathies, and this can only be done by making property productive of a national blessing, extending to every individual. when the riches of one man above another shall increase the national fund in the same proportion; when it shall be seen that the prosperity of that fund depends on the prosperity of individuals; when the more riches a man acquires, the better it shall be for the general mass; it is then that antipathies will cease, and property be placed on the permanent basis of national interest and protection. i have no property in france to become subject to the plan i propose. what i have which is not much, is in the united states of america. but i will pay one hundred pounds sterling towards this fund in rance, the instant it shall be established; and i will pay the same sum in england whenever a similar establishment shall take place in that country. a revolution in the state of civilization is the necessary companion of revolutions in the system of government. if a revolution in any country be from bad to good, or from good to bad, the state of what is called civilization in that country, must be made conformable thereto, to give that revolution effect. despotic government supports itself by abject civilization, in which debasement of the human mind, and wretchedness in the mass of the people, are the chief enterions. such governments consider man merely as an animal; that the exercise of intellectual faculty is not his privilege; _that he has nothing to do with the laws but to obey them _; (*) and they politically depend more upon breaking the spirit of the people by poverty, than they fear enraging it by desperation. * expression of horsley, an english bishop, in the english parliament.--author. it is a revolution in the state of civilization that will give perfection to the revolution of france. already the conviction that government by representation is the true system of government is spreading itself fast in the world. the reasonableness of it can be seen by all. the justness of it makes itself felt even by its opposers. but when a system of civilization, growing out of that system of government, shall be so organized that not a man or woman born in the republic but shall inherit some means of beginning the world, and see before them the certainty of escaping the miseries that under other governments accompany old age, the revolution of france will have an advocate and an ally in the heart of all nations. an army of principles will penetrate where an army of soldiers cannot; it will succeed where diplomatic management would fail: it is neither the rhine, the channel, nor the ocean that can arrest its progress: it will march on the horizon of the world, and it will conquer. means for carrying the proposed plan into execution, and to render it at the same time conducive to the public interest. i. each canton shall elect in its primary assemblies, three persons, as commissioners for that canton, who shall take cognizance, and keep a register of all matters happening in that canton, conformable to the charter that shall be established by law for carrying this plan into execution. ii. the law shall fix the manner in which the property of deceased persons shall be ascertained. iii. when the amount of the property of any deceased person shall be ascertained, the principal heir to that property, or the eldest of the co-heirs, if of lawful age, or if under age the person authorized by the will of the deceased to represent him or them, shall give bond to the commissioners of the canton to pay the said tenth part thereof in four equal quarterly payments, within the space of one year or sooner, at the choice of the payers. one half of the whole property shall remain as a security until the bond be paid off. iv. the bond shall be registered in the office of the commissioners of the canton, and the original bonds shall be deposited in the national bank at paris. the bank shall publish every quarter of a year the amount of the bonds in its possession, and also the bonds that shall have been paid off, or what parts thereof, since the last quarterly publication. v. the national bank shall issue bank notes upon the security of the bonds in its possession. the notes so issued, shall be applied to pay the pensions of aged persons, and the compensations to persons arriving at twenty-one years of age. it is both reasonable and generous to suppose, that persons not under immediate necessity, will suspend their right of drawing on the fund, until it acquire, as it will do, a greater degree of ability. in this case, it is proposed, that an honorary register be kept, in each canton, of the names of the persons thus suspending that right, at least during the present war. vi. as the inheritors of property must always take up their bonds in four quarterly payments, or sooner if they choose, there will always be _numéraire_ [cash] arriving at the bank after the expiration of the first quarter, to exchange for the bank notes that shall be brought in. vii. the bank notes being thus put in circulation, upon the best of all possible security, that of actual property, to more than four times the amount of the bonds upon which the notes are issued, and with _numéraire_ continually arriving at the bank to exchange or pay them off whenever they shall be presented for that purpose, they will acquire a permanent value in all parts of the republic. they can therefore be received in payment of taxes, or emprunts equal to numéraire, because the government can always receive numéraire for them at the bank. viii. it will be necessary that the payments of the ten per cent, be made in numeraire for the first year from the establishment of the plan. but after the expiration of the first year, the inheritors of property may pay ten per cent either in bank notes issued upon the fund, or in numeraire, if the payments be in numeraire, it will lie as a deposit at the bank, to be exchanged for a quantity of notes equal to that amount; and if in notes issued upon the fund, it will cause a demand upon the fund, equal thereto; and thus the operation of the plan will create means to carry itself into execution. thomas paine. xxix. the eighteenth fructidor. to the people of france and the french armies ( ) this pamphlet was written between the defeat of pichegru's attempt, september , , and november , of the same year, the date of the bien-informé in which the publication is noticed. general pichegra (charles), ( - ) having joined a royalist conspiracy against the republic, was banished to cayenne ( ), whence he escaped to england; having returned to paris ( ) he was imprisoned in the temple, and there found strangled by a silk handkerchief, whether by his own or another's act remaining doubtful. --editor. when an extraordinary measure, not warranted by established constitutional rules, and justifiable only on the supreme law of absolute necessity, bursts suddenly upon us, we must, in order to form a true judgment thereon, carry our researches back to the times that preceded and occasioned it. taking up then the subject with respect to the event of the eighteenth of fructidor on this ground, i go to examine the state of things prior to that period. i begin with the establishment of the constitution of the year of the french republic. a better _organized_ constitution has never yet been devised by human wisdom. it is, in its organization, free from all the vices and defects to which other forms of government are more or less subject. i will speak first of the legislative body, because the legislature is, in the natural order of things, the first power; the executive is the first magistrate. by arranging the legislative body into two divisions, as is done in the french constitution, the one, (the council of five hundred,) whose part it is to conceive and propose laws; the other, a council of ancients, to review, approve, or reject the laws proposed; all the security is given that can arise from coolness of reflection acting upon, or correcting the precipitancy or enthusiasm of conception and imagination. it is seldom that our first thought, even upon any subject, is sufficiently just.( ) for paine's ideas on the right division of representatives into two chambers, which differ essentially from any bicameral system ever adopted, see vol. ii., p. of this work; also, in the present volume, chapter xxxiv.-- _editor._. the policy of renewing the legislature by a third part each year, though not entirely new, either in theory or in practice, is nevertheless one of the modern improvements in the science of government. it prevents, on the one hand, that convulsion and precipitate change of measures into which a nation might be surprised by the going out of the whole legislature at the same time, and the instantaneous election of a new one; on the other hand, it excludes that common interest from taking place that might tempt a whole legislature, whose term of duration expired at once, to usurp the right of continuance. i go now to speak of the executive. it is a principle uncontrovertible by reason, that each of the parts by which government is composed, should be so constructed as to be in perpetual maturity. we should laugh at the idea of a council of five hundred, or a council of ancients, or a parliament, or any national assembly, who should be all children in leading strings and in the cradle, or be all sick, insane, deaf, dumb, lame or blind, at the same time, or be all upon crutches, tottering with age or infirmities. any form of government that was so constructed as to admit the possibility of such cases happening to a whole legislature would justly be the ridicule of the world; and on a parity of reasoning, it is equally as ridiculous that the same cases should happen in that part of government which is called the executive; yet this is the contemptible condition to which an executive is always subject, and which is often happening, when it is placed in an hereditary individual called a king. when that individual is in either of the cases before mentioned, the whole executive is in the same case; for himself is the whole. he is then (as an executive) the ridiculous picture of what a legislature would be if all its members were in the same case. the one is a whole made up of parts, the other a whole without parts; and anything happening to the one, (as a part or sec-tion of the government,) is parallel to the same thing happening to the other. as, therefore, an hereditary executive called a king is a perfect absurdity in itself, any attachment to it is equally as absurd. it is neither instinct or reason; and if this attachment is what is called royalism in france, then is a royalist inferior in character to every species of the animal world; for what can that being be who acts neither by instinct nor by reason? such a being merits rather our derision than our pity; and it is only when it assumes to act its folly that it becomes capable of provoking republican indignation. in every other case it is too contemptible to excite anger. for my own part, when i contemplate the self-evident absurdity of the thing, i can scarcely permit myself to believe that there exists in the high-minded nation of france such a mean and silly animal as a royalist. as it requires but a single glance of thought to see (as is before said) that all the parts of which government is composed must be at all times in a state of full maturity, it was not possible that men acting under the influence of reason, could, in forming a constitution, admit an hereditary executive, any more than an hereditary legislature. i go therefore to examine the other cases. in the first place, (rejecting the hereditary system,) shall the executive by election be an _individual or a plurality_. an individual by election is almost as bad as the hereditary system, except that there is always a better chance of not having an idiot. but he will never be any thing more than a chief of a party, and none but those of that party will have access to him. he will have no person to consult with of a standing equal with himself, and consequently be deprived of the advantages arising from equal discussion. those whom he admits in consultation will be ministers of his own appointment, who, if they displease by their advice, must expect to be dismissed. the authority also is too great, and the business too complicated, to be intrusted to the ambition or the judgment of an individual; and besides these cases, the sudden change of measures that might follow by the going out of an individual executive, and the election of a new one, would hold the affairs of a nation in a state of perpetual uncertainty. we come then to the case of a plural executive. it must be sufficiently plural, to give opportunity to discuss all the various subjects that in the course of national business may come before it; and yet not so numerous as to endanger the necessary secrecy that certain cases, such as those of war, require. establishing, then, plurality as a principle, the only question is, what shall be the number of that plurality? three are too few either for the variety or the quantity of business. the constitution has adopted five; and experience has shewn, from the commencement of the constitution to the time of the election of the new legislative third, that this number of directors, when well chosen, is sufficient for all national executive purposes; and therefore a greater number would be only an unnecessary expence. that the measures of the directory during that period were well concerted is proved by their success; and their being well concerted shews they were well discussed; and, therefore, that five is a sufficient number with respect to discussion; and, on the other hand, the secret, whenever there was one, (as in the case of the expedition to ireland,) was well kept, and therefore the number is not too great to endanger the necessary secrecy. the reason why the two councils are numerous is not from the necessity of their being so, on account of business, but because that every part of the republic shall find and feel itself in the national representation. next to the general principle of government by representation, the excellence of the french constitution consists in providing means to prevent that abuse of power that might arise by letting it remain too long in the same hands. this wise precaution pervades every part of the constitution. not only the legislature is renewable by a third every year, but the president of each of the councils is renewable every month; and of the directory, one member each year, and its president every three months. those who formed the constitution cannot be accused of having contrived for themselves. the constitution, in this respect, is as impartially constructed as if those who framed it were to die as soon as they had finished their work. the only defect in the constitution is that of having narrowed the right of suffrage; and it is in a great measure due to this narrowing the right, that the last elections have not generally been good. my former colleagues will, i presume, pardon my saying this to day, when they recollect my arguments against this defect, at the time the constitution was discussed in the convention.( ) see chapters xxiv. and xxv., also the letter prefaced to xxviii., in this volume.--_editor._, i will close this part of the subject by remarking on one of the most vulgar and absurd sayings or dogmas that ever yet imposed itself upon the world, which is, "_that a republic is fit only for a small country, and a monarchy for a large one_." ask those who say this their reasons why it is so, and they can give none. let us then examine the case. if the quantity of knowledge in a government ought to be proportioned to the extent of a country, and the magnitude and variety of its affairs, it follows, as an undeniable result, that this absurd dogma is false, and that the reverse of it is true. as to what is called monarchy, if it be adaptable to any country it can only be so to a small one, whose concerns are few, little complicated, and all within the comprehension of an individual. but when we come to a country of large extent, vast population, and whose affairs are great, numerous, and various, it is the representative republican system only, that can collect into the government the quantity of knowledge necessary to govern to the best national advantage. montesquieu, who was strongly inclined to republican government, sheltered himself under this absurd dogma; for he had always the bastile before his eyes when he was speaking of republics, and therefore _pretended_ not to write for france. condorcet governed himself by the same caution, but it was caution only, for no sooner had he the opportunity of speaking fully out than he did it. when i say this of condorcet, i know it as a fact. in a paper published in paris, july, , entitled, "_the republican, or the defender of representative government?_" is a piece signed _thomas paine_.( ) that piece was concerted between condorcet and myself. i wrote the original in english, and condorcet translated it. the object of it was to expose the absurdity and falsehood of the above mentioned dogma. chapter ii. of this volume. see also my "life of paine," vol. i., p. .--editor. having thus concisely glanced at the excellencies of the constitution, and the superiority of the representative system of government over every other system, (if any other can be called a system,) i come to speak of the circumstances that have intervened between the time the constitution was established and the event that took place on the th of fructidor of the present year. almost as suddenly as the morning light dissipates darkness, did the establishment of the constitution change the face of affairs in france. security succeeded to terror, prosperity to distress, plenty to famine, and confidence increased as the days multiplied, until the coming of the new third. a series of victories unequalled in the world, followed each other, almost too rapidly to be counted, and too numerous to be remembered. the coalition, every where defeated and confounded, crumbled away like a ball of dust in the hand of a giant. every thing, during that period, was acted on such a mighty scale that reality appeared a dream, and truth outstript romance. it may figuratively be said, that the rhine and the rubicon (germany and italy) replied in triumphs to each other, and the echoing alps prolonged the shout. i will not here dishonour a great description by noticing too much the english government. it is sufficient to say paradoxically, that in the magnitude of its littleness it cringed, it intrigued, and sought protection in corruption. though the achievements of these days might give trophies to a nation and laurels to its heroes, they derive their full radiance of glory from the principle they inspired and the object they accomplished. desolation, chains, and slavery had marked the progress of former wars, but to conquer for liberty had never been thought of. to receive the degrading submission of a distressed and subjugated people, and insultingly permit them to live, made the chief triumph of former conquerors; but to receive them with fraternity, to break their chains, to tell them they are free, and teach them to be so, make a new volume in the history of man. amidst those national honours, and when only two enemies remained, both of whom had solicited peace, and one of them had signed preliminaries, the election of the new third commenced. every thing was made easy to them. all difficulties had been conquered before they arrived at the government. they came in the olive days of the revolution, and all they had to do was not to do mischief. it was, however, not difficult to foresee, that the elections would not be generally good. the horrid days of robespierre were still remembered, and the gratitude due to those who had put an end to them was forgotten. thousands who, by passive approbation during that tremendous scene, had experienced no suffering, assumed the merit of being the loudest against it. their cowardice in not opposing it, became courage when it was over. they exclaimed against terrorism as if they had been the heroes that overthrew it, and rendered themselves ridiculous by fantastically overacting moderation. the most noisy of this class, that i have met with, are those who suffered nothing. they became all things, at all times, to all men; till at last they laughed at principle. it was the real republicans who suffered most during the time of robespierre. the persecution began upon them on the st of may, , and ceased only by the exertions of the remnant that survived. in such a confused state of things as preceded the late elections the public mind was put into a condition of being easily deceived; and it was almost natural that the hypocrite would stand the best chance of being elected into the new third. had those who, since their election, have thrown the public affairs into confusion by counter-revolutionary measures, declared themselves beforehand, they would have been denounced instead of being chosen. deception was necessary to their success. the constitution obtained a full establishment; the revolution was considered as complete; and the war on the eve of termination. in such a situation, the mass of the people, fatigued by a long revolution, sought repose; and in their elections they looked out for quiet men. they unfortunately found hypocrites. would any of the primary assemblies have voted for a civil war? certainly they would not. but the electoral assemblies of some departments have chosen men whose measures, since their election, tended to no other end but to provoke it. either those electors have deceived their constituents of the primary assemblies, or they have been themselves deceived in the choice they made of deputies. that there were some direct but secret conspirators in the new third can scarcely admit of a doubt; but it is most reasonable to suppose that a great part were seduced by the vanity of thinking they could do better than those whom they succeeded. instead of trusting to experience, they attempted experiments. this counter-disposition prepared them to fall in with any measures contrary to former measures, and that without seeing, and probably without suspecting, the end to which they led. no sooner were the members of the new third arrived at the seat of government, than expectation was excited to see how they would act. their motions were watched by all parties, and it was impossible for them to steal a march unobserved. they had it in their power to do great good, or great mischief. a firm and manly conduct on their part, uniting with that of the directory and their colleagues, would have terminated the war. but the moment before them was not the moment of hesitation. he that hesitates in such situation is lost. the first public act of the council of five hundred was the election of pichegru to the presidency of that council. he arrived at it by a very large majority, and the public voice was in his favour. i among the rest was one who rejoiced at it. but if the defection of pichegru was at that time known to condé, and consequently to pitt, it unveils the cause that retarded all negotiations for peace.( ) they interpreted that election into a signal of a counter-revolution, and were waiting for it; and they mistook the respect shown to pichegru, founded on the supposition of his integrity, as a symptom of national revolt. judging of things by their own foolish ideas of government, they ascribed appearances to causes between which there was no connection. every thing on their part has been a comedy of errors, and the actors have been chased from the stage. louis joseph de bourbon, prince de condé ( - ), organized the french emigrants on the rhine into an army which was incorporated with that of austria but paid by england. he converted pichegru into a secret partisan of the bourbons. he ultimately returned to france with louis xviii., who made him colonel of infantry and master of the royal household.--_editor._, two or three decades of the new sessions passed away without any thing very material taking place; but matters soon began to explain themselves. the first thing that struck the public mind was, that no more was heard of negotiations for peace, and that public business stood still. it was not the object of the conspirators that there should be peace; but as it was necessary to conceal their object, the constitution was ransacked to find pretences for delays. in vain did the directory explain to them the state of the finances and the wants of the army. the committee, charged with that business, trifled away its time by a series of unproductive reports, and continued to sit only to produce more. every thing necessary to be done was neglected, and every thing improper was attempted. pichegru occupied himself about forming a national guard for the councils--the suspicious signal of war,--camille jordan about priests and bells, and the emigrants, with whom he had associated during the two years he was in england. willot and delarue attacked the directory: their object was to displace some one of the directors, to get in another of their own. their motives with respect to the age of barras (who is as old as he wishes to be, and has been a little too old for them) were too obvious not to be seen through.( ) paine's pamphlet, addressed to jordan, deals mainly with religions matters, and is reserved for oar fourth volume.-- _editor._. paul françois jean nicolas barras ( - ) was president of the directory at this time, .--_editor._. in this suspensive state of things, the public mind, filled with apprehensions, became agitated, and without knowing what it might be, looked for some extraordinary event. it saw, for it could not avoid seeing, that things could not remain long in the state they were in, but it dreaded a convulsion. that spirit of triflingness which it had indulged too freely when in a state of security, and which it is probable the new agents had interpreted into indifference about the success of the republic, assumed a serious aspect that afforded to conspiracy no hope of aid; but still it went on. it plunged itself into new measures with the same ill success, and the further it went the further the public mind retired. the conspiracy saw nothing around it to give it encouragement. the obstinacy, however, with which it persevered in its repeated attacks upon the directory, in framing laws in favour of emigrants and refractory priests, and in every thing inconsistent with the immediate safety of the republic, and which served to encourage the enemy to prolong the war, admitted of no other direct interpretation than that something was rotten in the council of five hundred. the evidence of circumstances became every day too visible not to be seen, and too strong to be explained away. even as errors, (to say no worse of them,) they are not entitled to apology; for where knowledge is a duty, ignorance is a crime. the more serious republicans, who had better opportunities than the generality had, of knowing the state of politics, began to take the alarm, and formed themselves into a society, by the name of the constitutional club. it is the only society of which i have been a member in france; and i went to this because it was become necessary that the friends of the republic should rally round the standard of the constitution. i met there several of the original patriots of the revolution; i do not mean of the last order of jacobins, but of the first of that name. the faction in the council of five hundred, who, finding no counsel from the public, began to be frightened at appearances, fortified itself against the dread of this society, by passing a law to dissolve it. the constitutionality of the law was at least doubtful: but the society, that it might not give the example of exasperating matters already too much inflamed, suspended its meetings. a matter, however, of much greater moment soon after presented itself. it was the march of four regiments, some of whom, in the line of their route, had to pass within about twelve leagues of paris, which is the boundary the constitution had fixed as the distance of any armed force from the legislative body. in another state of things, such a circumstance would not have been noticed. but conspiracy is quick of suspicion, and the fear which the faction in the council of five hundred manifested upon this occasion could not have suggested itself to innocent men; neither would innocent men have expostulated with the directory upon the case, in the manner these men did. the question they urged went to extort from the directory, and to make known to the enemy, what the destination of the troops was. the leaders of the faction conceived that the troops were marching against them; and the conduct they adopted in consequence of it was sufficient to justify the measure, even if it had been so. from what other motive than the consciousness of their own designs could they have fear? the troops, in every instance, had been the gallant defenders of the republic, and the openly declared friends of the constitution; the directory had been the same, and if the faction were not of a different description neither fear nor suspicion could have had place among them. all those manouvres in the council were acted under the most professional attachment to the constitution; and this as necessarily served to enfeeble their projects. it is exceedingly difficult, and next to impossible, to conduct a conspiracy, and still more so to give it success, in a popular government. the disguised and feigned pretences which men in such cases are obliged to act in the face of the public, suppress the action of the faculties, and give even to natural courage the features of timidity. they are not half the men they would be where no disguise is necessary. it is impossible to be a hypocrite and to be brave at the same instant. the faction, by the imprudence of its measures, upon the march of the troops, and upon the declarations of the officers and soldiers to support the republic and the constitution against all open or concealed attempts to overturn them, had gotten itself involved with the army, and in effect declared itself a party against it. on the one hand, laws were proposed to admit emigrants and refractory priests as free citizens; and on the other hand to exclude the troops from paris, and to punish the soldiers who had declared to support the republic in the mean time all negociations for peace went backward; and the enemy, still recruiting its forces, rested to take advantage of circumstances. excepting the absence of hostilities, it was a state worse than war. if all this was not a conspiracy, it had at least the features of one, and was pregnant with the same mischiefs. the eyes of the faction could not avoid being open to the dangers to which it obstinately exposed the republic; yet still it persisted. during this scene, the journals devoted to the faction were repeatedly announcing the near approach of peace with austria and with england, and often asserting that it was concluded. this falsehood could be intended for no other purpose than to keep the eyes of the people shut against the dangers to which they were exposed. taking all circumstances together, it was impossible that such a state of things could continue long; and at length it was resolved to bring it to an issue. there is good reason to believe that the affair of the th fructidor (september ) was intended to have taken place two days before; but on recollecting that it was the d of september, a day mournful in the annals of the revolution, it was postponed. when the issue arrived, the faction found to its cost it had no party among the public. it had sought its own disasters, and was left to suffer the consequences. foreign enemies, as well as those of the interior, if any such there be, ought to see in the event of this day that all expectation of aid from any part of the public in support of a counter revolution is delusion. in a state of security the thoughtless, who trembled at terror, may laugh at principles of liberty (for they have laughed) but it is one thing to indulge a foolish laugh, quite another thing to surrender liberty. considering the event of the th fructidor in a political light, it is one of those that are justifiable only on the supreme law of absolute necessity, and it is the necessity abstracted from the event that is to be deplored. the event itself is matter of joy. whether the manouvres in the council of five hundred were the conspiracy of a few, aided l>y the perverseness of many, or whether it had a deeper root, the dangers were the same. it was impossible to go on. every thing was at stake, and all national business at a stand. the case reduced itself to a simple alternative--shall the republic be destroyed by the darksome manouvres -of a faction, or shall it be preserved by an exceptional act? during the american revolution, and that after the state constitutions were established, particular cases arose that rendered it necessary to act in a manner that would have been treasonable in a state of peace. at one time congress invested general washington with dictatorial power. at another time the government of pennsylvania suspended itself and declared martial law. it was the necessity of the times only that made the apology of those extraordinary measures. but who was it that produced the necessity of an extraordinary measure in france? a faction, and that in the face of prosperity and success. its conduct is without apology; and it is on the faction only that the exceptional measure has fallen. the public has suffered no inconvenience. if there are some men more disposed than others not to act severely, i have a right to place myself in that class; the whole of my political life invariably proves it; yet i cannot see, taking all parts of the case together, what else, or what better, could have been done, than has been done. it was a great stroke, applied in a great crisis, that crushed in an instant, and without the loss of a life, all the hopes of the enemy, and restored tranquillity to the interior. the event was ushered in by the discharge of two cannon at four in the morning, and was the only noise that was heard throughout the day. it naturally excited a movement among the parisians to enquire the cause. they soon learned it, and the countenance they carried was easy to be interpreted. it was that of a people who, for some time past, had been oppressed with apprehensions of some direful event, and who felt themselves suddenly relieved, by finding what it was. every one went about his business, or followed his curiosity in quietude. it resembled the cheerful tranquillity of the day when louis xvi. absconded in , and like that day it served to open the eyes of the nation. if we take a review of the various events, as well conspiracies as commotions, that have succeeded each other in this revolution, we shall see how the former have wasted consumptively away, and the consequences of the latter have softened. the st may and its consequences were terrible. that of the th and th thermidor, though glorious for the republic, as it overthrew one of the most horrid and cruel despotisms that ever raged, was nevertheless marked with many circumstances of severe and continued retaliation. the commotions of germinal and prairial of the year , and of vendemaire of the year , were many degrees below those that preceded them, and affected but a small part of the public. this of pichegru and his associates has been crushed in an instant, without the stain of blood, and without involving the public in the least inconvenience. these events taken in a series, mark the progress of the republic from disorder to stability. the contrary of this is the case in all parts of the british dominions. there, commotions are on an ascending scale; every one is higher than the former. that of the sailors had nearly been the overthrow of the government. but the most potent of all is the invisible commotion in the bank. it works with the silence of time, and the certainty of death. every thing happening in france is curable; but this is beyond the reach of nature or invention. leaving the event of the th fructidor to justify itself by the necessity that occasioned it, and glorify itself by the happiness of its consequences, i come to cast a coup-d'oil on the present state of affairs. we have seen by the lingering condition of the negociations for peace, that nothing was to be expected from them, in the situation that things stood prior to the th fructidor. the armies had done wonders, but those wonders were rendered unproductive by the wretched manouvres of a faction. new exertions are now necessary to repair the mischiefs which that faction has done. the electoral bodies, in some departments, who by an injudicious choice, or a corrupt influence, have sent improper deputies to the legislature, have some atonement to make to their country. the evil originated with them, and the least they can do is to be among the foremost to repair it. it is, however, in vain to lament an evil that is past. there is neither manhood nor policy in grief; and it often happens that an error in politics, like an error in war, admits of being turned to greater advantage than if it had not occurred. the enemy, encouraged by that error, presumes too much, and becomes doubly foiled by the re-action. england, unable to conquer, has stooped to corrupt; and defeated in the last, as in the first, she is in a worse condition than before. continually increasing her crimes, she increases the measure of her atonement, and multiplies the sacrifices she must make to obtain peace. nothing but the most obstinate stupidity could have induced her to let slip the opportunity when it was within her reach. in addition to the prospect of new expenses, she is now, to use mr. pitt's own figurative expression against france, _not only on the brink, but in the gulph of bankruptcy_. there is no longer any mystery in paper money. call it assignats, mandats, exchequer bills, or bank notes, it is still the same. time has solved the problem, and experience has fixed its fate.( ) see chapter xxvi. of this volume.--_editor._. the government of that unfortunate country discovers its faithlessness so much, that peace on any terms with her is scarcely worth obtaining. of what use is peace with a government that will employ that peace for no other purpose than to repair, as far as it is possible, her shattered finances and broken credit, and then go to war again? four times within the last ten years, from the time the american war closed, has the anglo-germanic government of england been meditating fresh war. first with france on account of holland, in ; afterwards with russia; then with spain, on account of nootka sound; and a second time against france, to overthrow her revolution. sometimes that government employs prussia against austria; at another time austria against prussia; and always one or the other, or both against france. peace with such a government is only a treacherous cessation of hostilities. the frequency of wars on the part of england, within the last century, more than before, must have had some cause that did not exist prior to that epoch. it is not difficult to discover what that cause is. it is the mischievous compound of an elector of the germanic body and a king of england; and which necessarily must, at some day or other, become an object of attention to france. that one nation has not a right to interfere in the internal government of another nation, is admitted; and in this point of view, france has no right to dictate to england what its form of government shall be. if it choose to have a thing called a king, or whether that king shall be a man or an ass, is a matter with which france has no business. but whether an elector of the germanic body shall be king of england, is an _external_ case, with which france and every other nation, who suffers inconvenience and injury in consequence of it, has a right to interfere. it is from this mischievous compound of elector and king, that originates a great part of the troubles that vex the continent of europe; and with respect to england, it has been the cause of her immense national debt, the ruin of her finances, and the insolvency of her bank. all intrigues on the continent, in which england is a party, or becomes involved, are generated by, and act through, the medium of this anglo-germanic compound. it will be necessary to dissolve it. let the elector retire to his electorate, and the world will have peace. england herself has given examples of interference in matters of this kind, and that in cases where injury was only apprehended. she engaged in a long and expensive war against france (called the succession war) to prevent a grandson of louis the fourteenth being king of spain; because, said she, _it will be injurious_ to me; and she has been fighting and intriguing against what was called the family-compact ever since. in she threatened france with war to prevent a connection between france and hoi-land; and in all her propositions of peace to-day she is dictating separations. but if she look at the anglo-germanic compact at home, called the hanover succession, she cannot avoid seeing that france necessarily must, some day or other, take up that subject, and make the return of the elector to his electorate one of the conditions of peace. there will be no lasting peace between the two countries till this be done, and the sooner it be done the better will it be for both. i have not been in any company where this matter aas been a topic, that did not see it in the light it is here stated. even barthélémy,( ) when he first came to the directory (and barthélémy was never famous for patriotism) acknowledged in my hearing, and in company with derché, secretary to the legation at lille, the connection of an elector of germany and a king of england to be injurious to france. i do not, however, mention it from a wish to embarrass the negociation for peace. the directory has fixed its _ultimatum_; but if that ultimatum be rejected, the obligation to adhere to it is discharged, and a new one may be assumed. so wretchedly has pitt managed his opportunities» that every succeeding negociation has ended in terms more against him than the former. if the directory had bribed him, he could not serve his interest better than he does. he serves it as lord north served that of america, which finished in the discharge of his master.* marquis de barthélémy (françois) ( - ) entered the directory in june, , through royalist influence. he shared pichegru's banishment, and subsequently became an agent of louis xviii.--_editor._ * the father of pitt, when a member of the house of commons, exclaiming one day, during a former war, against the enormous and ruinous expense of german connections, as the offspring of the hanover succession, and borrowing a metaphor from the story of prometheus, cried out: "thus, hie prometheus, is britain chained to the barren rock of hanover; whilst the imperial eagle preys upon her vitals."-- author. thus far i had written when the negociation at lille became suspended, in consequence of which i delayed the publication, that the ideas suggested in this letter might not intrude themselves during the interval. the _ultimatum_ offered by the directory, as the terms of peace, was more moderate than the government of england had a right to expect. that government, though the provoker of the war, and the first that committed hostilities by sending away the ambassador chauvelin,(**) had formerly talked of demanding from france, _indemnification for the past and security for the future_. france, in her turn, might have retorted, and demanded the same from england; but she did not. as it was england that, in consequence of her bankruptcy, solicited peace, france offered it to her on the simple condition of her restoring the islands she had taken. the ultimatum has been rejected, and the negociation broken off. the spirited part of france will say, _tant mieux_, so much the better. ** it was stipulated in the treaty of commerce between france and england, concluded at paris, that the sending away an ambassador by either party, should be taken as an act of hostility by the other party. the declaration of war (feb. m * ) by the convention, of which i was then a member and know well the case, was made in exact conformity to this article in the treaty; for it was not a declaration of war against england, but a declaration that the french republic is in war with england; the first act of hostility having been committed by england. the declaration was made immediately on chauvelin's return to france, and in consequence of it. mr. pitt should inform himself of things better than he does, before he prates so much about them, or of the sending away of malmesbury, who was only on a visit of permission.--author. how the people of england feel on the breaking up of the negociation, which was entirely the act of their own government, is best known to themselves; but from what i know of the two nations, france ought to hold herself perfectly indifferent about a peace with the government of england. every day adds new strength to france and new embarrassments to her enemy. the resources of the one increase, as those of the other become exhausted. england is now reduced to the same system of paper money from which france has emerged, and we all know the inevitable fate of that system. it is not a victory over a few ships, like that on the coast of holland, that gives the least support or relief to a paper system. on the news of this victory arriving in england, the funds did not rise a farthing. the government rejoiced, but its creditors were silent. it is difficult to find a motive, except in folly and madness, for the conduct of the english government. every calculation and prediction of mr. pitt has turned out directly the contrary; yet still he predicts. he predicted, with all the solemn assurance of a magician, that france would be bankrupt in a few months. he was right as to the thing, but wrong as to the place, for the bankruptcy happened in england whilst the words were yet warm upon his lips. to find out what will happen, it is only necessary to know what mr. pitt predicts. he is a true prophet if taken in the reverse. such is the ruinous condition that england is now in, that great as the difficulties of war are to the people, the difficulties that would accompany peace are equally as great to the government. whilst the war continues, mr. pitt has a pretence for shutting up the bank. but as that pretence could last no longer than the war lasted, he dreads the peace that would expose the absolute bankruptcy of the government, and unveil to a deceived nation the ruinous effect of his measures. peace would be a day of accounts to him, and he shuns it as an insolvent debtor shuns a meeting of his creditors. war furnishes him with many pretences; peace would furnish him with none, and he stands alarmed at its consequences. his conduct in the negociation at lille can be easily interpreted. it is not for the sake of the nation that he asks to retain some of the taken islands; for what are islands to a nation that has already too many for her own good, or what are they in comparison to the expense of another campaign in the present depreciating state of the english funds? (and even then those islands must be restored.) no, it is not for the sake of the nation that he asks. it is for the sake of himself. it is as if he said to france, give me some pretence, cover me from disgrace when my day of reckoning comes! any person acquainted with the english government knows that every minister has some dread of what is called in england the winding up of accounts at the end of a war; that is, the final settlement of all expenses incurred by the war; and no minister had ever so great cause of dread as mr. pitt. a burnt child dreads the fire, and pitt has had some experience upon this case. the winding up of accounts at the end of the american war was so great, that, though he was not the cause of it, and came into the ministry with great popularity, he lost it all by undertaking, what was impossible for him to avoid, the voluminous business of the winding up. if such was the case in settling the accounts of his predecessor, how much more has he to apprehend when the accounts to be settled are his own? all men in bad circumstances hate the settlement of accounts, and pitt, as a minister, is of that description. but let us take a view of things on a larger ground than the case of a minister. it will then be found, that england, on a comparison of strength with france, when both nations are disposed to exert their utmost, has no possible chance of success. the efforts that england made within the last century were not generated on the ground of _natural ability_, but of _artificial anticipations_. she ran posterity into debt, and swallowed up in one generation the resources of several generations yet to come, till the project can be pursued no longer. it is otherwise in france. the vastness of her territory and her population render the burden easy that would make a bankrupt of a country like england. it is not the weight of a thing, but the numbers who are to bear that weight, that makes it feel light or heavy to the shoulders of those who bear it. a land-tax of half as much in the pound as the land-tax is in england, will raise nearly four times as much revenue in france as is raised in england. this is a scale easily understood, by which all the other sections of productive revenue can be measured. judge then of the difference of natural ability. england is strong in a navy; but that navy costs about eight millions sterling a-year, and is one of the causes that has hastened her bankruptcy. the history of navy bills sufficiently proves this. but strong as england is in this case, the fate of navies must finally be decided by the natural ability of each country to carry its navy to the greatest extent; and france is able to support a navy twice as large as that of england, with less than half the expense per head on the people, which the present navy of england costs. we all know that a navy cannot be raised as expeditiously as an army. but as the average duration of a navy, taking the decay of time, storms, and all circumstances and accidents together, is less than twenty years, every navy must be renewed within that time; and france at the end of a few years, can create and support a navy of double the extent of that of england; and the conduct of the english government will provoke her to it. but of what use are navies otherwise than to make or prevent invasions? commercially considered, they are losses. they scarcely give any protection to the commerce of the countries which have them, compared with the expense of maintaining them, and they insult the commerce of the nations that are neutral. during the american war, the plan of the armed neutrality was formed and put in execution: but it was inconvenient, expensive, and ineffectual. this being the case, the problem is, does not commerce contain within itself, the means of its own protection? it certainly does, if the neutral nations will employ that means properly. instead then of an _armed neutrality_, the plan should be directly the contrary. it should be an _unarmed neutrality_. in the first place, the rights of neutral nations are easily defined. they are such as are exercised by nations in their intercourse with each other in time of peace, and which ought not, and cannot of right, be interrupted in consequence of war breaking out between any two or more of them. taking this as a principle, the next thing is to give it effect. the plan of the armed neutrality was to effect it by threatening war; but an unarmed neutrality can effect it by much easier and more powerful means. were the neutral nations to associate, under an honourable injunction of fidelity to each other, and publicly declare to the world, that if any belligerent power shall seize or molest any ship or vessel belonging to the citizens or subjects of any of the powers composing that association, that the whole association will shut its ports against the flag of the offending nation, and will not permit any goods, wares, or merchandise, produced or manufactured in the offending nation, or appertaining thereto, to be imported into any of the ports included in the association, until reparation be made to the injured party,--the reparation to be three times the value of the vessel and cargo,--and moreover that all remittances on money, goods, and bills of exchange, do cease to be made to the offending nation, until the said reparation be made: were the neutral nations only to do this, which it is their direct interest to do, england, as a nation depending on the commerce of neutral nations in time of war, dare not molest them, and france would not. but whilst, from the want of a common system, they individually permit england to do it, because individually they cannot resist it, they put france under the necessity of doing the same thing. the supreme of all laws, in all cases, is that of self-preservation. as the commerce of neutral nations would thus be protected by the means that commerce naturally contains within itself, all the naval operations of france and england would be confined within the circle of acting against each other: and in that case it needs no spirit of prophecy to discover that france must finally prevail. the sooner this be done, the better will it be for both nations, and for all the world. thomas paine.( ) paine had already prepared his "maritime compact," and devised the rainbow flag, which was to protect commerce, the substance and history of which constitutes his seventh letter to the people of the united states, chapter xxxiii. of the present volume. he sent the articles of his proposed international association to the minister of foreign relations, talleyrand, who responded with a cordial letter. the articles of "maritime compact," translated into french by nicolas bouneville, were, in , sent to all the ministers of foreign affairs in europe, and to the ambassadors in paris.--_editor._, xxx. the recall of monroe. ( ) monroe, like edmund randolph and thomas paine, was sacrificed to the new commercial alliance with great britain. the cabinet of washington were entirely hostile to france, and in their determination to replace monroe were assisted by gouverneur morris, still in europe, who wrote to president washington calumnies against that minister. in a letter of december , , morris tells washington that he had heard from a trusted informant that monroe had said to several frenchmen that "he had no doubt but that, if they would do what was proper here, he and his friends would turn out washington." on july , , the cabinet ministers, pickering, wolcott, and mo-henry, wrote to the president their joint opinion that the interests of the united states required monroe's recall, and slanderously connected him with anonymous letters from france written by m. montflorence. the recall, dated august , , reached monroe early in november. it alluded to certain "concurring circumstances," which induced his removal, and these "hidden causes" (in paine's phrase) monroe vainly demanded on his return to america early in . the directory, on notification of monroe's recall, resolved not to recognize his successor, and the only approach to an american minister in paris for the remainder of the century was thomas paine, who was consulted by the foreign ministers, de la croix and talleyrand, and by napoleon. on the approach of c. c. pinckney, as successor to monroe, paine feared that his dismissal might entail war, and urged the minister (de la croix) to regard pinckney,--nominated in a recess of the senate,--as in "suspension" until confirmed by that body. there might be unofficial "pourparlers," with him. this letter (state archives, paris, États unis, vol. , fol. ) was considered for several days before pinckney reached paris (december , ), but the directory considered that it was not a "dignified" course, and pinckney was ordered to leave french territory, under the existing decree against foreigners who had no permit to remain.--_editor._. paris, sept. , . editors of the bien-in formé. citizens: in your th number of the complementary th, you gave an analysis of the letters of james monroe to timothy pickering. the newspapers of paris and the departments have copied this correspondence between the ambassador of the united states and the secretary of state. i notice, however, that a few of them have omitted some important facts, whilst indulging in comments of such an extraordinary nature that it is clear they know neither monroe's integrity nor the intrigues of pitt in this affair. the recall of monroe is connected with circumstances so important to the interests of france and the united states, that we must be careful not to confound it with the recall of an ordinary individual. the washington faction had affected to spread it abroad that james monroe was the cause of rupture between the two republics. this accusation is a perfidious and calumnious one; since the main point in this affair is not so much the recall of a worthy, enlightened and republican minister, as the ingratitude and clandestine manoeuvering of the government of washington, who caused the misunderstanding by signing a treaty injurious to the french republic. james monroe, in his letters, does not deny the right of government to withdraw its confidence from any one of its delegates, representatives, or agents. he has hinted, it is true, that caprice and temper are not in accordance with the spirit of paternal rule, and that whenever a representative government punishes or rewards, good faith, integrity and justice should replace _the good pleasure of kings_. in the present case, they have done more than recall an agent. had they confined themselves to depriving him of his appointment, james monroe would have kept silence; but he has been accused of lighting the torch of discord in both republics. the refutation of this absurd and infamous reproach is the chief object of his correspondence. if he did not immediately complain of these slanders in his letters of the th and th [july], it is because he wished to use at first a certain degree of caution, and, if it were possible, to stifle intestine troubles at their birth. he wished to reopen the way to peaceful negotiations to be conducted with good faith and justice. the arguments of the secretary of state on the rights of the supreme administration of the united states are peremptory; but the observations of monroe on the hidden causes of his recall are touching; they come from the heart; they are characteristic of an excellent citizen. if he does more than complain of his unjust recall as a man of feeling would; if he proudly asks for proofs of a grave accusation, it is after he has tried in vain every honest and straightforward means. he will not suffer that a government, sold to the enemies of freedom, should discharge upon him its shame, its crimes, its ingratitude, and all the odium of its unjust dealings. were monroe to find himself an object of public hatred, the republican party in the united states, that party which is the sincere ally of france, would be annihilated, and this is the aim of the english government. imagine the triumph of pitt, if monroe and the other friends of freedom in america, should be unjustly attacked in france! monroe does not lay his cause before the senate since the senate itself ratified the unconstitutional treaty; he appeals to the house of representatives, and at the same time lays his cause before the upright tribunal of the american nation. xxxi. private letter to president jefferson. paris, october , . dear sir,--i wrote to you from havre by the ship dublin packet in the year . it was then my intention to return to america; but there were so many british frigates cruising in sight of the port, and which after a few days knew that i was at havre waiting to go to america, that i did not think it best to trust myself to their discretion, and the more so, as i had no confidence in the captain of the dublin packet (clay).( ) i mentioned to you in that letter, which i believe you received thro' the hands of colonel [aaron] burr, that i was glad since you were not president that you had accepted the nomination of vice president. the commissioners ellsworth & co.( ) have been here about eight months, and three more useless mortals never came upon public business. their presence appears to me to have been rather an injury than a benefit. they set themselves up for a faction as soon as they arrived. i was then in belgia.( ) upon my return to paris i learnt they had made a point of not returning the visits of mr. skipwith and barlow, because, they said, they had not the confidence of the executive. every known republican was treated in the same manner. i learned from mr. miller of philadelphia, who had occasion to see them upon business, that they did not intend to return my visit, if i made one. this, i supposed, it was intended i should know, that i might not make one. it had the contrary effect. i went to see mr. ellsworth. i told him, i did not come to see him as a commissioner, nor to congratulate him upon his mission; that i came to see him because i had formerly known him in congress. "i mean not," said i, "to press you with any questions, or to engage you in any conversation upon the business you are come upon, but i will nevertheless candidly say that i know not what expectations the government or the people of america may have of your mission, or what expectations you may have yourselves, but i believe you will find you can do but little. the treaty with england lies at the threshold of all your business. the american government never did two more foolish things than when it signed that treaty and recalled mr. monroe, who was the only man could do them any service." mr. ellsworth put on the dull gravity of a judge, and was silent. i added, "you may perhaps make a treaty like that you have made with england, which is a surrender of the rights of the american flag; for the principle that neutral ships make neutral property must be general or not at all." i then changed the subject, for i had all the talk to myself upon this topic, and enquired after samuel adams, (i asked nothing about john,) mr. jefferson, mr. monroe, and others of my friends; and the melancholy case of the yellow fever,--of which he gave me as circumstantial an account as if he had been summing up a case to a jury. here my visit ended, and had mr. ellsworth been as cunning as a statesman, or as wise as a judge, he would have returned my visit that he might appear insensible of the intention of mine. the packet was indeed searched for paine by a british cruiser.--_editor._ oliver ellsworth (chief justice), w. v. murray, and w. r. davie, were sent by president adams to france to negotiate a treaty. in this they failed, but a convention was signed september , , which terminated the treaty of , which had become a source of discord, and prepared the way for the negotiations of livingston and monroe in .-- _editor._ paine had visited his room-mate in luxembourg prison, vanhuele, who was now mayor of bruges.--_editor._. i now come to the affairs of this country and of europe. you will, i suppose, have heard before this arrives to you, of the battle of marengo in italy, where the austrians were defeated--of the armistice in consequence thereof, and the surrender of milan, genoa etc. to the french--of the successes of the french army in germany--and the extension of the armistice in that quarter--of the preliminaries of peace signed at paris--of the refusal of the emperor [of austria] to ratify these preliminaries--of the breaking of the armistice by the french government in consequence of that refusal--of the "gallant" expedition of the emperor to put himself at the head of his army--of his pompous arrival there--of his having made his will--of prayers being put in all his churches for the preservation of the life of this hero--of general moreau announcing to him, immediately on his arrival at the army, that hostilities would commence the day after the next at sunrise unless he signed the treaty or gave security that he would sign within days--of his surrendering up three of the principal keys of germany (ulm, philipsbourg, and ingolstadt) as security that he would sign them. this is the state things are now in, at the time of writing this letter; but it is proper to add that the refusal of the emperor to sign the preliminaries was motived upon a note from the king of england to be admitted to the congress for negociating peace, which was consented to by the french upon the condition of an armistice at sea, which england, before knowing of the surrender the emperor had made, had refused. from all which it appears to me, judging from circumstances, that the emperor is now so compleatly in the hands of the french, that he has no way of getting out but by a peace. the congress for the peace is to be held at lunéville, a town in france. since the affair of rastadt the french commissioners will not trust themselves within the emperor's territory. i now come to domestic affairs. i know not what the commissioners have done, but from a paper i enclose to you, which appears to have some authority, it is not much. the paper as you will perceive is considerably prior to this letter. i know that the commissioners before this piece appeared intended setting off. it is therefore probable that what they have done is conformable to what this paper mentions, which certainly will not atone for the expence their mission has incurred, neither are they, by all the accounts i hear of them, men fitted for the business. but independently of these matters there appears to be a state of circumstances rising, which if it goes on, will render all partial treaties unnecessary. in the first place i doubt if any peace will be made with england; and in the second place, i should not wonder to see a coalition formed against her, to compel her to abandon her insolence on the seas. this brings me to speak of the manuscripts i send you. the piece no. i, without any title, was written in consequence of a question put to me by bonaparte. as he supposed i knew england and english politics he sent a person to me to ask, that in case of negociating a peace with austria, whether it would be proper to include england. this was when count st. julian was in paris, on the part of the emperor negociating the preliminaries:--which as i have before said the emperor refused to sign on the pretence of admitting england. the piece no. , entitled _on the jacobinism of the english at sea_, was written when the english made their insolent and impolitic expedition to denmark, and is also an auxiliary to the politic of no. i. i shewed it to a friend [bonneville] who had it translated into french, and printed in the form of a pamphlet, and distributed gratis among the foreign ministers, and persons in the government. it was immediately copied into several of the french journals, and into the official paper, the moniteur. it appeared in this paper one day before the last dispatch arrived from egypt; which agreed perfectly with what i had said respecting egypt. it hit the two cases of denmark and egypt in the exact proper moment. the piece no. , entitled _compact maritime_, is the sequel of no. , digested in form. it is translating at the time i write this letter, and i am to have a meeting with the senator garat upon the subject. the pieces and go off in manuscript to england, by a confidential person, where they will be published.( ) the substance of most of these "pieces" are embodied in paine's seventh letter to the people of the united states (infra p. ).--_editor._ by all the news we get from the north there appears to be something meditating against england. it is now given for certain that paul has embargoed all the english vessels and english property in russia till some principle be established for protecting the rights of neutral nations, and securing the liberty of the seas. the preparations in denmark continue, notwithstanding the convention that she has made with england, which leaves the question with respect to the right set up by england to stop and search neutral vessels undecided. i send you the paragraphs upon the subject. the tumults are great in all parts of england on account of the excessive price of corn and bread, which has risen since the harvest. i attribute it more to the abundant increase of paper, and the non-circulation of cash, than to any other cause. people in trade can push the paper off as fast as they receive it, as they did by continental money in america; but as farmers have not this opportunity, they endeavor to secure themselves by going considerably in advance. i have now given you all the great articles of intelligence, for i trouble not myself with little ones, and consequently not with the commissioners, nor any thing they are about, nor with john adams, otherwise than to wish him safe home, and a better and wiser man in his place. in the present state of circumstances and the prospects arising from them, it may be proper for america to consider whether it is worth her while to enter into any treaty at this moment, or to wait the event of those circumstances which if they go on will render partial treaties useless by deranging them. but if, in the mean time, she enters into any treaty it ought to be with a condition to the following purpose: reserving to herself the right of joining in an association of nations for the protection of the rights of neutral commerce and the security of the liberty of the seas. the pieces , , may go to the press. they will make a small pamphlet and the printers are welcome to put my name to it. (it is best it should be put.) from thence they will get into the newspapers. i know that the faction of john adams abuses me pretty heartily. they are welcome. it does not disturb me, and they lose their labour; and in return for it i am doing america more service, as a neutral nation, than their expensive commissioners can do, and she has that service from me for nothing. the piece no. is only for your own amusement and that of your friends. i come now to speak confidentially to you on a private subject. when mr. ellsworth and davie return to america, murray will return to holland, and in that case there will be nobody in paris but mr. skipwith that has been in the habit of transacting business with the french government since the revolution began. he is on a good standing with them, and if the chance of the day should place you in the presidency you cannot do better than appoint him for any purpose you may have occasion for in france. he is an honest man and will do his country justice, and that with civility and good manners to the government he is commissioned to act with; a faculty which that northern bear timothy pickering wanted, and which the bear of that bear, john adams, never possessed. i know not much of mr. murray, otherwise than of his unfriendliness to every american who is not of his faction, but i am sure that joel barlow is a much fitter man to be in holland than mr. murray. it is upon the fitness of the man to the place that i speak, for i have not communicated a thought upon the subject to barlow, neither does he know, at the time of my writing this (for he is at havre), that i have intention to do it. i will now, by way of relief, amuse you with some account of the progress of iron bridges. [here follows an account of the building of the iron bridge at sunderland, england, and some correspondence with mr. milbanke, m. p., which will be given more fully and precisely in a chapter of vol. iv. (appendix), on iron bridges, and is therefore omitted here.] i have now made two other models [of bridges]. one is pasteboard, five feet span and five inches of height from the cords. it is in the opinion of every person who has seen it one of the most beautiful objects the eye can behold. i then cast a model in metal following the construction of that in paste-board and of the same dimensions. the whole was executed in my own chamber. it is far superior in strength, elegance, and readiness in execution to the model i made in america, and which you saw in paris.( ) i shall bring those models with me when i come home, which will be as soon as i can pass the seas in safety from the piratical john bulls. i suppose you have seen, or have heard of the bishop of landaff's answer to my second part of the age of reason. as soon as i got a copy of it i began a third part, which served also as an answer to the bishop; but as soon as the clerical society for promoting _christian knowledge_ knew of my intention to answer the bishop, they prosecuted, as a society, the printer of the first and second parts, to prevent that answer appearing. no other reason than this can be assigned for their prosecuting at the time they did, because the first part had been in circulation above three years and the second part more than one, and they prosecuted immediately on knowing that i was taking up their champion. the bishop's answer, like mr. burke's attack on the french revolution, served me as a back-ground to bring forward other subjects upon, with more advantage than if the background was not there. this is the motive that induced me to answer him, otherwise i should have gone on without taking any notice of him. i have made and am still making additions to the manuscript, and shall continue to do so till an opportunity arrive for publishing it. "these models exhibit an extraordinary degree not only of skill, but of taste, and are wrought with extreme delicacy entirely by his own hands. the largest is nearly four feet in length; the iron-works, the chains, and every other article belonging to it, were forged and manufactured by himself. it is intended as the model of a bridge which is to be constructed across the delaware, extending feet, with only one arch. the other is to be erected over a lesser river, whose name i forget, and is likewise a single arch, and of his own workmanship, excepting the chains, which, instead of iron, are cut out of paste-hoard by the fair hand of his correspondent, the 'little corner of the world' (lady smyth), whose indefatigable perseverance is extraordinary. he was offered £ for these models and refused it."-- yorke's _letters from france_, these models excited much admiration in washington and philadelphia. they remained for a long time in peale's museum at philadelphia, but no trace is left of them.--_editor._ if any american frigate should come to france, and the direction of it fall to you, i will be glad you would give me the opportunity of returning. the abscess under which i suffered almost two years is entirely healed of itself, and i enjoy exceeding good health. this is the first of october, and mr. skipwith has just called to tell me the commissioners set off for havre to-morrow. this will go by the frigate but not with the knowledge of the commissioners. remember me with much affection to my friends and accept the same to yourself. thomas paine. xxxii. proposal that louisiana be purchased.( ) (sent to the president, christmas day, .) paine, being at lovell's hotel, washington, suggested the purchase of louisiana to dr. michael leib, representative from pennsylvania, who, being pleased with the idea, suggested that he should write it to jefferson. on the day after its reception the president told paine that "measures were already taken in that business."--_editor._. spain has ceded louisiana to france, and france has excluded americans from new orleans, and the navigation of the mississippi. the people of the western territory have complained of it to their government, and the government is of consequence involved and interested in the affair. the question then is--what is the best step to be taken? the one is to begin by memorial and remonstrance against an infraction of a right. the other is by accommodation,--still keeping the right in view, but not making it a groundwork. suppose then the government begin by making a proposal to france to re-purchase the cession made to her by spain, of louisiana, provided it be with the consent of the people of louisiana, or a majority thereof. by beginning on this ground any thing can be said without carrying the appearance of a threat. the growing power of the western territory can be stated as a matter of information, and also the impossibility of restraining them from seizing upon new orleans, and the equal impossibility of france to prevent it. suppose the proposal attended to, the sum to be given comes next on the carpet. this, on the part of america, will be estimated between the value of the commerce and the quantity of revenue that louisiana will produce. the french treasury is not only empty, but the government has consumed by anticipation a great part of the next year's revenue. a monied proposal will, i believe, be attended to; if it should, the claims upon france can be stipulated as part of the payment, and that sum can be paid here to the claimants. ----i congratulate you on _the birthday of the new sun_, now called christmas day; and i make you a present of a thought on louisiana. t.p. xxxiii. thomas paine to the citizens of the united states, and particularly to the leaders of the federal faction, letter i.( ) the national intelligencer, november th. the venerable mr. gales, so long associated with this paper, had been in youth a prosecuted adherent of paine in sheffield, england. the paper distinguished itself by the kindly welcome it gave paine on his return to america. (see issues of nov. and , .) paine landed at baltimore, oct. th.--_editor._, after an absence of almost fifteen years, i am again returned to the country in whose dangers i bore my share, and to whose greatness i contributed my part. when i sailed for europe, in the spring of , it was my intention to return to america the next year, and enjoy in retirement the esteem of my friends, and the repose i was entitled to. i had stood out the storm of one revolution, and had no wish to embark in another. but other scenes and other circumstances than those of contemplated ease were allotted to me. the french revolution was beginning to germinate when i arrived in france. the principles of it were good, they were copied from america, and the men who conducted it were honest. but the fury of faction soon extinguished the one, and sent the other to the scaffold. of those who began that revolution, i am almost the only survivor, and that through a thousand dangers. i owe this not to the prayers of priests, nor to the piety of hypocrites, but to the continued protection of providence. but while i beheld with pleasure the dawn of liberty rising in europe, i saw with regret the lustre of it fading in america. in less than two years from the time of my departure some distant symptoms painfully suggested the idea that the principles of the revolution were expiring on the soil that produced them. i received at that time a letter from a female literary correspondent, and in my answer to her, i expressed my fears on that head.( ) i now know from the information i obtain upon the spot, that the impressions that then distressed me, for i was proud of america, were but too well founded. she was turning her back on her own glory, and making hasty strides in the retrograde path of oblivion. but a spark from the altar of _seventy-six_, unextinguished and unextinguishable through the long night of error, is again lighting up, in every part of the union, the genuine name of rational liberty. as the french revolution advanced, it fixed the attention of the world, and drew from the pensioned pen ( ) of edmund burke a furious attack. this brought me once more on the public theatre of politics, and occasioned the pamphlet _rights of man_. it had the greatest run of any work ever published in the english language. the number of copies circulated in england, scotland, and ireland, besides translations into foreign languages, was between four and five hundred thousand. the principles of that work were the same as those in _common sense_, and the effects would have been the same in england as that had produced in america, could the vote of the nation been quietly taken, or had equal opportunities of consulting or acting existed. the only difference between the two works was, that the one was adapted to the local circumstances of england, and the other to those of america. as to myself, i acted in both cases alike; i relinquished to the people of england, as i had done to those of america, all profits from the work. my reward existed in the ambition to do good, and the independent happiness of my own mind. paine here quotes a passage from his letter to mrs. few, already given in the memorial to monroe (xxi.). the entire letter to mrs. few will be printed in the appendix to vol. iv. of this work.--_editor._ see editorial note p. in this volume.--_editor._ but a faction, acting in disguise, was rising in america; they had lost sight of first principles. they were beginning to contemplate government as a profitable monopoly, and the people as hereditary property. it is, therefore, no wonder that the _rights of man_ was attacked by that faction, and its author continually abused. but let them go on; give them rope enough and they will put an end to their own insignificance. there is too much common sense and independence in america to be long the dupe of any faction, foreign or domestic. but, in the midst of the freedom we enjoy, the licentiousness of the papers called federal, (and i know not why they are called so, for they are in their principles anti-federal and despotic,) is a dishonour to the character of the country, and an injury to its reputation and importance abroad. they represent the whole people of america as destitute of public principle and private manners. as to any injury they can do at home to those whom they abuse, or service they can render to those who employ them, it is to be set down to the account of noisy nothingness. it is on themselves the disgrace recoils, for the reflection easily presents itself to every thinking mind, that _those who abuse liberty when they possess it would abuse power could they obtain it_; and, therefore, they may as well take as a general motto, for all such papers, _we and our patrons are not fit to be trusted with power_. there is in america, more than in any other country, a large body of people who attend quietly to their farms, or follow their several occupations; who pay no regard to the clamours of anonymous scribblers, who think for themselves, and judge of government, not by the fury of newspaper writers, but by the prudent frugality of its measures, and the encouragement it gives to the improvement and prosperity of the country; and who, acting on their own judgment, never come forward in an election but on some important occasion. when this body moves, all the little barkings of scribbling and witless curs pass for nothing. to say to this independent description of men, "you must turn out such and such persons at the next election, for they have taken off a great many taxes, and lessened the expenses of government, they have dismissed my son, or my brother, or myself, from a lucrative office, in which there was nothing to do"--is to show the cloven foot of faction, and preach the language of ill-disguised mortification. in every part of the union, this faction is in the agonies of death, and in proportion as its fate approaches, gnashes its teeth and struggles. my arrival has struck it as with an hydrophobia, it is like the sight of water to canine madness. as this letter is intended to announce my arrival to my friends, and to my enemies if i have any, for i ought to have none in america, and as introductory to others that will occasionally follow, i shall close it by detailing the line of conduct i shall pursue. i have no occasion to ask, and do not intend to accept, any place or office in the government.( ) there is none it could give me that would be any ways equal to the profits i could make as an author, for i have an established fame in the literary world, could i reconcile it to my principles to make money by my politics or religion. i must be in every thing what i have ever been, a disinterested volunteer; my proper sphere of action is on the common floor of citizenship, and to honest men i give my hand and my heart freely. the president (jefferson) being an intimate friend of paine, and suspected, despite his reticence, of sympathizing with paine's religions views, was included in the denunciations of paine ("the two toms" they were called), and paine here goes out of his way to soften matters for jefferson.--_editor._. i have some manuscript works to publish, of which i shall give proper notice, and some mechanical affairs to bring forward, that will employ all my leisure time. i shall continue these letters as i see occasion, and as to the low party prints that choose to abuse me, they are welcome; i shall not descend to answer them. i have been too much used to such common stuff to take any notice of it. the government of england honoured me with a thousand martyrdoms, by burning me in effigy in every town in that country, and their hirelings in america may do the same. city of washington. thomas paine. letter ii( ) as the affairs of the country to which i am returned are of more importance to the world, and to me, than of that i have lately left, (for it is through the new world the old must be regenerated, if regenerated at all,) i shall not take up the time of the reader with an account of scenes that have passed in france, many of which are painful to remember and horrid to relate, but come at once to the circumstances in which i find america on my arrival. fourteen years, and something more, have produced a change, at least among a part of the people, and i ask my-self what it is? i meet or hear of thousands of my former connexions, who are men of the same principles and friendships as when i left them. but a non-descript race, and of equivocal generation, assuming the name of _federalist_,--a name that describes no character of principle good or bad, and may equally be applied to either,--has since started up with the rapidity of a mushroom, and like a mushroom is withering on its rootless stalk. are those men _federalized_ to support the liberties of their country or to overturn them? to add to its fair fame or riot on its spoils? the name contains no defined idea. it is like john adams's definition of a republic, in his letter to mr. wythe of virginia.( ) _it is_, says he, _an empire of laws and not of men_. but as laws may be bad as well as good, an empire of laws may be the best of all governments or the worst of all tyrannies. but john adams is a man of paradoxical heresies, and consequently of a bewildered mind. he wrote a book entitled, "_a defence of the american constitutions_," and the principles of it are an attack upon them. but the book is descended to the tomb of forgetfulness, and the best fortune that can attend its author is quietly to follow its fate. john was not born for immortality. but, to return to federalism. national intelligencer, nov. d, .--_editor._ chancellor wythe, - .--_editor._ vol m--« in the history of parties and the names they assume, it often happens that they finish by the direct contrary principles with which they profess to begin, and thus it has happened with federalism. during the time of the old congress, and prior to the establishment of the federal government, the continental belt was too loosely buckled. the several states were united in name but not in fact, and that nominal union had neither centre nor circle. the laws of one state frequently interferred with, and sometimes opposed, those of another. commerce between state and state was without protection, and confidence without a point to rest on. the condition the country was then in, was aptly described by pelatiah webster, when he said, "_thirteen staves and ne'er a hoop will not make a barrel_."( ) if, then, by _federalist_ is to be understood one who was for cementing the union by a general government operating equally over all the states, in all matters that embraced the common interest, and to which the authority of the states severally was not adequate, for no one state can make laws to bind another; if, i say, by a _federalist_ is meant a person of this description, (and this is the origin of the name,) _i ought to stand first on the list of federalists_, for the proposition for establishing a general government over the union, came originally from me in , in a written memorial to chancellor livingston, then secretary for foreign affairs to congress, robert morris, minister of finance, and his associate, gouverneur morris, all of whom are now living; and we had a dinner and conference at robert morris's on the subject. the occasion was as follows: congress had proposed a duty of five per cent, on imported articles, the money to be applied as a fund towards paying the interest of loans to be borrowed in holland. the resolve was sent to the several states to be enacted into a law. rhode island absolutely refused. i was at the trouble of a journey to rhode island to reason with them on the subject.( ) some other of the states enacted it with alterations, each one as it pleased. virginia adopted it, and afterwards repealed it, and the affair came to nothing. "like a stare in a cask well bound with hoops, it [the individual state] stands firmer, is not so easily shaken, bent, or broken, as it would be were it set up by itself alone."--pelatiah webster, . see paul l. ford's pamphlets cm the constitution, etc., p. .--editor see my "life of paine." vol i., p. .--editor, it was then visible, at least to me, that either congress must frame the laws necessary for the union, and send them to the several states to be enregistered without any alteration, which would in itself appear like usurpation on one part and passive obedience on the other, or some method must be devised to accomplish the same end by constitutional principles; and the proposition i made in the memorial was, to _add a continental legislature to congress, to be elected by the several states_. the proposition met the full approbation of the gentlemen to whom it was addressed, and the conversation turned on the manner of bringing it forward. gouverneur morris, in walking with me after dinner, wished me to throw out the idea in the newspaper; i replied, that i did not like to be always the proposer of new things, that it would have too assuming an appearance; and besides, that _i did not think the country was quite wrong enough to be put right_. i remember giving the same reason to dr. rush, at philadelphia, and to general gates, at whose quarters i spent a day on my return from rhode island; and i suppose they will remember it, because the observation seemed to strike them.( ) the letter books of robert morris ( folio volumes, which should be in our national archives) contain many entries relating to paine's activity in the public service. under date aug. , , about the time referred to by paine in this letter, robert morris mentions a conversation with him on public affairs. i am indebted to general meredith read, owner of these morris papers, for permission to examine them.--_editor._. but the embarrassments increasing, as they necessarily must from the want of a better cemented union, the state of virginia proposed holding a commercial convention, and that convention, which was not sufficiently numerous, proposed that another convention, with more extensive and better defined powers, should be held at philadelphia, may , . when the plan of the federal government, formed by this convention, was proposed and submitted to the consideration of the several states, it was strongly objected to in each of them. but the objections were not on anti-federal grounds, but on constitutional points. many were shocked at the idea of placing what is called executive power in the hands of a single individual. to them it had too much the form and appearance of a military government, or a despotic one. others objected that the powers given to a president were too great, and that in the hands of an ambitious and designing man it might grow into tyranny, as it did in england under oliver cromwell, and as it has since done in france. a republic must not only be so in its principles, but in its forms. the executive part of the federal government was made for a man, and those who consented, against their judgment, to place executive power in the hands of a single individual, reposed more on the supposed moderation of the person they had in view, than on the wisdom of the measure itself. two considerations, however, overcame all objections. the one was, the absolute necessity of a federal government. the other, the rational reflection, that as government in america is founded on the representative system any error in the first essay could be reformed by the same quiet and rational process by which the constitution was formed, and that either by the generation then living, or by those who were to succeed. if ever america lose sight of this principle, she will no longer be the _land of liberty_. the father will become the assassin of the rights of the son, and his descendants be a race of slaves. as many thousands who were minors are grown up to manhood since the name of _federalist_ began, it became necessary, for their information, to go back and show the origin of the name, which is now no longer what it originally was; but it was the more necessary to do this, in order to bring forward, in the open face of day, the apostacy of those who first called themselves federalists. to them it served as a cloak for treason, a mask for tyranny. scarcely were they placed in the seat of power and office, than federalism was to be destroyed, and the representative system of government, the pride and glory of america, and the palladium of her liberties, was to be overthrown and abolished. the next generation was not to be free. the son was to bend his neck beneath the father's foot, and live, deprived of his rights, under hereditary control. among the men of this apostate description, is to be ranked the ex-president _john adams_. it has been the political career of this man to begin with hypocrisy, proceed with arrogance, and finish in contempt. may such be the fate of all such characters. i have had doubts of john adams ever since the year . in a conversation with me at that time, concerning the pamphlet _common sense_, he censured it because it attacked the english form of government. john was for independence because he expected to be made great by it; but it was not difficult to perceive, for the surliness of his temper makes him an awkward hypocrite, that his head was as full of kings, queens, and knaves, as a pack of cards. but john has lost deal. when a man has a concealed project in his brain that he wants to bring forward, and fears will not succeed, he begins with it as physicians do by suspected poison, try it first on an animal; if it agree with the stomach of the animal, he makes further experiments, and this was the way john took. his brain was teeming with projects to overturn the liberties of america, and the representative system of government, and he began by hinting it in little companies. the secretary of john jay, an excellent painter and a poor politician, told me, in presence of another american, daniel parker, that in a company where himself was present, john adams talked of making the government hereditary, and that as mr. washington had no children, it should be made hereditary in the family of lund washington.( ) john had not impudence enough to propose himself in the first instance, as the old french normandy baron did, who offered to come over to be king of america, and if congress did not accept his offer, that they would give him thirty thousand pounds for the generosity of it( ); but john, like a mole, was grubbing his way to it under ground. he knew that lund washington was unknown, for nobody had heard of him, and that as the president had no children to succeed him, the vice-president had, and if the treason had succeeded, and the hint with it, the goldsmith might be sent for to take measure of the head of john or of his son for a golden wig. in this case, the good people of boston might have for a king the man they have rejected as a delegate. the representative system is fatal to ambition. see supra footnote on p. .--_editor._ see vol. ii. p. of this work.--_editor._ knowing, as i do, the consummate vanity of john adams, and the shallowness of his judgment, i can easily picture to myself that when he arrived at the federal city he was strutting in the pomp of his imagination before the presidential house, or in the audience hall, and exulting in the language of nebuchadnezzar, "is not this great babylon, that i have built for the honour of my majesty!" but in that unfortunate hour, or soon after, john, like nebuchadnezzar, was driven from among men, and fled with the speed of a post-horse. some of john adams's loyal subjects, i see, have been to present him with an address on his birthday; but the language they use is too tame for the occasion. birthday addresses, like birthday odes, should not creep along like mildrops down a cabbage leaf, but roll in a torrent of poetical metaphor. i will give them a specimen for the next year. here it is-- when an ant, in travelling over the globe, lift up its foot, and put it again on the ground, it shakes the earth to its centre: but when you, the mighty ant of the east, was born, &c. &c. &c, the centre jumped upon the surface. this, gentlemen, is the proper style of addresses from _well-bred_ ants to the monarch of the ant hills; and as i never take pay for preaching, praying, politics, or poetry, i make you a present of it. some people talk of impeaching john adams; but i am for softer measures. i would keep him to make fun of. he will then answer one of the ends for which he was born, and he ought to be thankful that i am arrived to take his part. i voted in earnest to save the life of one unfortunate king, and i now vote in jest to save another. it is my fate to be always plagued with fools. but to return to federalism and apostacy. the plan of the leaders of the faction was to overthrow the liberties of the new world, and place government on the corrupt system of the old. they wanted to hold their power by a more lasting tenure than the choice of their constituents. it is impossible to account for their conduct and the measures they adopted on any other ground. but to accomplish that object, a standing army and a prodigal revenue must be raised; and to obtain these, pretences must be invented to deceive. alarms of dangers that did not exist even in imagination, but in the direct spirit of lying, were spread abroad. apostacy stalked through the land in the garb of patriotism, and the torch of treason blinded for a while the flame of liberty. for what purpose could an army of twenty-five thousand men be wanted? a single reflection might have taught the most credulous that while the war raged between france and england, neither could spare a man to invade america. for what purpose, then, could it be wanted? the case carries its own explanation. it was wanted for the purpose of destroying the representative system, for it could be employed for no other. are these men federalists? if they are, they are federalized to deceive and to destroy. the rage against dr. logan's patriotic and voluntary mission to france was excited by the shame they felt at the detection of the false alarms they had circulated. as to the opposition given by the remnant of the faction to the repeal of the taxes laid on during the former administration, it is easily accounted for. the repeal of those taxes was a sentence of condemnation on those who laid them on, and in the opposition they gave in that repeal, they are to be considered in the light of criminals standing on their defence, and the country has passed judgment upon them. thomas paine. city of washington, lovett's hotel, nov. , . letter iii.( ) the national intelligencer, dec. th, .--_editor._. to elect, and to reject, is the prerogative of a free people. since the establishment of independence, no period has arrived that so decidedly proves the excellence of the representative system of government, and its superiority over every other, as the time we now live in. had america been cursed with john adams's _hereditary monarchy_ or alexander hamilton's _senate for life_ she must have sought, in the doubtful contest of civil war, what she now obtains by the expression of public will. an appeal to elections decides better than an appeal to the sword. the reign of terror that raged in america during the latter end of the washington administration, and the whole of that of adams, is enveloped in mystery to me. that there were men in the government hostile to the representative system, was once their boast, though it is now their overthrow, and therefore the fact is established against them. but that so large a mass of the people should become the dupes of those who were loading them with taxes in order to load them with chains, and deprive them of the right of election, can be ascribed only to that species of wildfire rage, lighted up by falsehood, that not only acts without reflection, but is too impetuous to make any. there is a general and striking difference between the genuine effects of truth itself, and the effects of falsehood believed to be truth. truth is naturally benign; but falsehood believed to be truth is always furious. the former delights in serenity, is mild and persuasive, and seeks not the auxiliary aid of invention. the latter sticks at nothing. it has naturally no morals. every lie is welcome that suits its purpose. it is the innate character of the thing to act in this manner, and the criterion by which it may be known, whether in politics or religion. when any thing is attempted to be supported by lying, it is presumptive evidence that the thing so supported is a lie also. the stock on which a lie can be grafted must be of the same species as the graft. what is become of the mighty clamour of french invasion, and the cry that our country is in danger, and taxes and armies must be raised to defend it? the danger is fled with the faction that created it, and what is worst of all, the money is fled too. it is i only that have committed the hostility of invasion, and all the artillery of popguns are prepared for action. poor fellows, how they foam! they set half their own partisans in laughter; for among ridiculous things nothing is more ridiculous than ridiculous rage. but i hope they will not leave off. i shall lose half my greatness when they cease to lie. so far as respects myself, i have reason to believe, and a right to say, that the leaders of the reign of terror in america and the leaders of the reign of terror in france, during the time of robespierre, were in character the same sort of men; or how is it to be accounted for, that i was persecuted by both at the same time? when i was voted out of the french convention, the reason assigned for it was, that i was a foreigner. when robespierre had me seized in the night, and imprisoned in the luxembourg, (where i remained eleven months,) he assigned no reason for it. but when he proposed bringing me to the tribunal, which was like sending me at once to the scaffold, he then assigned a reason, and the reason was, _for the interests of america as well as of france, "pour les intérêts de l'amérique autant que de la france_" the words are in his own hand-writing, and reported to the convention by the committee appointed to examine his papers, and are printed in their report, with this reflection added to them, "_why thomas paine more than another? because he contributed to the liberty of both worlds_."( ) see my "life of paine," vol. ii., pp. , . also, the historical introduction to xxi., p. , of this volume. robespierre never wrote an idle word. this paine well knew, as mirabeau, who said of robespierre: "that man will go far he believes every word he says."--_editor._ there must have been a coalition in sentiment, if not in fact, between the terrorists of america and the terrorists of france, and robespierre must have known it, or he could not have had the idea of putting america into the bill of accusation against me. yet these men, these terrorists of the new world, who were waiting in the devotion of their hearts for the joyful news of my destruction, are the same banditti who are now bellowing in all the hacknied language of hacknied hypocrisy, about humanity, and piety, and often about something they call infidelity, and they finish with the chorus of _crucify him, crucify him_. i am become so famous among them, they cannot eat or drink without me. i serve them as a standing dish, and they cannot make up a bill of fare if i am not in it. but there is one dish, and that the choicest of all, that they have not presented on the table, and it is time they should. they have not yet _accused providence of infidelity_. yet according to their outrageous piety, she( ) must be as bad as thomas paine; she has protected him in all his dangers, patronized him in all his undertakings, encouraged him in all his ways, and rewarded him at last by bringing him in safety and in health to the promised land. this is more than she did by the jews, the chosen people, that they tell us she brought out of the land of egypt, and out of the house of bondage; for they all died in the wilderness, and moses too. i was one of the nine members that composed the first committee of constitution. six of them have been destroyed. sièyes and myself have survived--he by bending with the times, and i by not bending. the other survivor joined robespierre, he was seized and imprisoned in his turn, and sentenced to transportation. he has since apologized to me for having signed the warrant, by saying he felt himself in danger and was obliged to do it.( ) is this a "survival" of the goddess fortuna?--_editor._ barère. his apology to paine proves that a death- warrant had been issued, for barère did not sign the order for paine's arrest or imprisonment.--_editor._ hérault sechelles, an acquaintance of mr. jefferson, and a good patriot, was my _suppléant_ as member of the committee of constitution, that is, he was to supply my place, if i had not accepted or had resigned, being next in number of votes to me. he was imprisoned in the luxembourg with me, was taken to the tribunal and the guillotine, and i, his principal, was left. there were two foreigners in the convention, anarcharsis clootz and myself. we were both put out of the convention by the same vote, arrested by the same order, and carried to prison together the same night. he was taken to the guillotine, and i was again left. joel barlow was with us when we went to prison. joseph lebon, one of the vilest characters that ever existed, and who made the streets of arras run with blood, was my _suppléant_, as member of the convention for the department of the pas de calais. when i was put out of the convention he came and took my place. when i was liberated from prison and voted again into the convention, he was sent to the same prison and took my place there, and he was sent to the guillotine instead of me. he supplied my place all the way through. one hundred and sixty-eight persons were taken out of the luxembourg in one night, and a hundred and sixty of them guillotined next day, of which i now know i was to have been one; and the manner i escaped that fate is curious, and has all the appearance of accident. the room in which i was lodged was on the ground floor, and one of a long range of rooms under a gallery, and the door of it opened outward and flat against the wall; so that when it was open the inside of the door appeared outward, and the contrary when it was shut. i had three comrades, fellow prisoners with me, joseph vanhuele, of bruges, since president of the municipality of that town, michael rubyns, and charles bastini of louvain. when persons by scores and by hundreds were to be taken out of the prison for the guillotine it was always done in the night, and those who performed that office had a private mark or signal, by which they knew what rooms to go to, and what number to take. we, as i have stated, were four, and the door of our room was marked, unobserved by us, with that number in chalk; but it happened, if happening is a proper word, that the mark was put on when the door was open, and flat against the wall, and thereby came on the inside when we shut it at night, and the destroying angel passed by it.( ) a few days after this, robespierre fell, and mr. monroe arrived and reclaimed me, and invited me to his house. painefs preface to the "age of reason" part il, and his letter to washington (p. .) show that for some time after his release from prison he had attributed his escape from the guillotine to a fever which rendered him unconscious at the time when his accusation was demanded by robespierre; but it will be seen (xxxi.) that he subsequently visited his prison room-mate vanhuele, who had become mayor of bruges, and he may have learned from him the particulars of their marvellous escape. carlyle having been criticised by john g. alger for crediting this story of the chalk mark, an exhaustive discussion of the facts took place in the london athenoum, july , , august , september , , in which it was conclusively proved, i think, that there is no reason to doubt the truth of the incident see also my article on paine's escape, in the open court (chicago), july , . the discussion in the athenoum elicited the fact that a tradition had long existed in the family of sampson perry that he had shared paine's cell and been saved by the curious mistake. such is not the fact. perry, in his book on the french revolution, and in his "argus," told the story of paine's escape by his illness, as paine first told it; and he also relates an anecdote which may find place here: "mr. paine speaks gratefully of the kindness shown him by his fellow-prisoners of the same chamber during his severe malady, and especially of the skilful and voluntary assistance lent him by general o'hara's surgeon. he relates an anecdote of himself which may not be unworthy of repeating. an arrêt of the committee of public welfare had given directions to the administrators of the palace [luxembourg] to enter all the prisons with additional guards and dispossess every prisoner of his knives, forks, and every other sharp instrument; and also to take their money from them. this happened a short time before mr. paine's illness, and as this ceremony was represented to him as an atrocious plunder in the dregs of municipality, he determined to avert its effect so far as it concerned himself. he had an english bank note of some value and gold coin in his pocket, and as he conceived the visitors would rifle them, as well as his trunks (though they did not do so by any one) he took off the lock from his door, and hid the whole of what he had about him in its inside. he recovered his health, he found his money, but missed about three hundred of his associated prisoners, who had been sent in crowds to the murderous tribunal, while he had been insensible of their or his own danger." this was probably the money (£ ) loaned by paine to general o'hara (who figured at the yorktown surrender) in prison.--_editor._ during the whole of my imprisonment, prior to the fall of robespierre, there was no time when i could think my life worth twenty-four hours, and my mind was made up to meet its fate. the americans in paris went in a body to the convention to reclaim me, but without success. there was no party among them with respect to me. my only hope then rested on the government of america, that it would _remember me_. but the icy heart of ingratitude, in whatever man it be placed, has neither feeling nor sense of honour. the letter of mr. jefferson has served to wipe away the reproach, and done justice to the mass of the people of america.( ) printed in the seventh of this series of letters.-- _editor._. when a party was forming, in the latter end of , and beginning of , of which john adams was one, to remove mr. washington from the command of the army on the complaint that _he did nothing_, i wrote the fifth number of the crisis, and published it at lancaster, (congress then being at yorktown, in pennsylvania,) to ward off that meditated blow; for though i well knew that the black times of ' were the natural consequence of his want of military judgment in the choice of positions into which the army was put about new york and new jersey, i could see no possible advantage, and nothing but mischief, that could arise by distracting the army into parties, which would have been the case had the intended motion gone on. general [charles] lee, who with a sarcastic genius joined a great fund of military knowledge, was perfectly right when he said "_we have no business on islands, and in the bottom of bogs, where the enemy, by the aid of its ships, can bring its whole force against apart of ours and shut it up_." this had like to have been the case at new york, and it was the case at fort washington, and would have been the case at fort lee if general [nathaniel] greene had not moved instantly off on the first news of the enemy's approach. i was with greene through the whole of that affair, and know it perfectly. but though i came forward in defence of mr. washington when he was attacked, and made the best that could be made of a series of blunders that had nearly ruined the country, he left me to perish when i was in prison. but as i told him of it in his life-time, i should not now bring it up if the ignorant impertinence of some of the federal papers, who are pushing mr. washington forward as their stalking horse, did not make it necessary. that gentleman did not perform his part in the revolution better, nor with more honour, than i did mine, and the one part was as necessary as the other. he accepted as a present, (though he was already rich,) a hundred thousand acres of land in america, and left me to occupy six foot of earth in france.( ) i wish, for his own reputation, he had acted with more justice. but it was always known of mr. washington, by those who best knew him, that he was of such an icy and death-like constitution, that he neither loved his friends nor hated his enemies. but, be this as it may, i see no reason that a difference between mr. washington and me should be made a theme of discord with other people. there are those who may see merit in both, without making themselves partisans of either, and with this reflection i close the subject. paine was mistaken, as many others were, about the gifts of virginia ( ) to washington. they were shares, of $ each, in the james river company, and shares, of £ each, in the potomac company. washington, accepted on condition that he might appropriate them _to public uses_ which was done in his will.--_editor._ as to the hypocritical abuse thrown out by the federalists on other subjects, i recommend to them the observance of a commandment that existed before either christian or jew existed: thou shalt make a covenant with thy senses: with thine eye that it behold no evil, with thine ear, that it hear no evil, with thy tongue, that it speak no evil, with thy hands, that they commit no evil. if the federalists will follow this commandment, they will leave off lying. thomas paine. federal city, lovett's hotel, nov. , . letter iv.( ) the national intelligencer, dec. th. .--_editor._. as congress is on the point of meeting, the public papers will necessarily be occupied with the debates of the ensuing session, and as, in consequence of my long absence from america, my private affairs require my attendance, (for it is necessary i do this, or i could not preserve, as i do, my independence,) i shall close my address to the public with this letter. i congratulate them on the success of the late elections, and _that_ with the additional confidence, that while honest men are chosen and wise measures pursued, neither the treason of apostacy, masked under the name of federalism, of which i have spoken in my second letter, nor the intrigues of foreign emissaries, acting in concert with that mask, can prevail. as to the licentiousness of the papers calling themselves _federal_, a name that apostacy has taken, it can hurt nobody but the party or the persons who support such papers. there is naturally a wholesome pride in the public mind that revolts at open vulgarity. it feels itself dishonoured even by hearing it, as a chaste woman feels dishonour by hearing obscenity she cannot avoid. it can smile at wit, or be diverted with strokes of satirical humour, but it detests the _blackguard_. the same sense of propriety that governs in private companies, governs in public life. if a man in company runs his wit upon another, it may draw a smile from some persons present, but as soon as he turns a blackguard in his language the company gives him up; and it is the same in public life. the event of the late election shows this to be true; for in proportion as those papers have become more and more vulgar and abusive, the elections have gone more and more against the party they support, or that supports them. their predecessor, _porcupine_ [cobbett] had wit--these scribblers have none. but as soon as his _blackguardism_ (for it is the proper name of it) outran his wit, he was abandoned by every body but the english minister who protected him. the spanish proverb says, "_there never was a cover large enough to hide itself_"; and the proverb applies to the case of those papers and the shattered remnant of the faction that supports them. the falsehoods they fabricate, and the abuse they circulate, is a cover to hide something from being seen, but it is not large enough to hide itself. it is as a tub thrown out to the whale to prevent its attacking and sinking the vessel. they want to draw the attention of the public from thinking about, or inquiring into, the measures of the late administration, and the reason why so much public money was raised and expended; and so far as a lie today, and a new one tomorrow, will answer this purpose, it answers theirs. it is nothing to them whether they be believed or not, for if the negative purpose be answered the main point is answered, to them. he that picks your pocket always tries to make you look another way. "look," says he, "at yon man t'other side the street--what a nose he has got?--lord, yonder is a chimney on fire!--do you see yon man going along in the salamander great coat? that is the very man that stole one of jupiter's satellites, and sold it to a countryman for a gold watch, and it set his breeches on fire!" now the man that has his hand in your pocket, does not care a farthing whether you believe what he says or not. all his aim is to prevent your looking at _him_; and this is the case with the remnant of the federal faction. the leaders of it have imposed upon the country, and they want to turn the attention of it from the subject. in taking up any public matter, i have never made it a consideration, and never will, whether it be popular or unpopular; but whether it be _right_ or _wrong_. the right will always become the popular, if it has courage to show itself, and the shortest way is always a straight line. i despise expedients, they are the gutter-hole of politics, and the sink where reputation dies. in the present case, as in every other, i cannot be accused of using any; and i have no doubt but thousands will hereafter be ready to say, as gouverneur morris said to me, after having abused me pretty handsomely in congress for the opposition i gave the fraudulent demand of silas deane of two thousand pounds sterling: "_well, we were all duped, and i among the rest!_"( ) see vol. i., chapters xxii., xxiii., xxiv., of this work. also my "life of paine," vol. i., ch. ix., x.--_editor._ were the late administration to be called upon to give reasons for the expence it put the country to, it can give none. the danger of an invasion was a bubble that served as a cover to raise taxes and armies to be employed on some other purpose. but if the people of america believed it true, the cheerfulness with which they supported those measures and paid those taxes is an evidence of their patriotism; and if they supposed me their enemy, though in that supposition they did me injustice, it was not injustice in them. he that acts as he believes, though he may act wrong, is not conscious of wrong. but though there was no danger, no thanks are due to the late administration for it. they sought to blow up a flame between the two countries; and so intent were they upon this, that they went out of their way to accomplish it. in a letter which the secretary of state, timothy pickering, wrote to mr. skipwith, the american consul at paris, he broke off from the official subject of his letter, to _thank god_ in very exulting language, _that the russians had cut the french army to pieces_. mr. skipwith, after showing me the letter, very prudently concealed it. it was the injudicious and wicked acrimony of this letter, and some other like conduct of the then secretary of state, that occasioned me, in a letter to a friend in the government, to say, that if there was any official business to be done in france, till a regular minister could be appointed, it could not be trusted to a more proper person than mr. skipwith. "_he is_," said i, "_an honest man, and will do business, and that with good manners to the government he is commissioned to act with. a faculty which that bear, timothy pickering, wanted, and which the bear of that bear, john adams, never possessed_."( ) by reference to the letter itself (p. of this volume) it will be seen that paine here quotes it from memory.-- _editor._ vol iii-- in another letter to the same friend, in , and which was put unsealed under cover to colonel burr, i expressed a satisfaction that mr. jefferson, since he was not president, had accepted the vice presidency; "_for_," said i, "_john adams has such a talent for blundering and offending, it will be necessary to keep an eye over him_." he has now sufficiently proved, that though i have not the spirit of prophecy, i have the gift of _judging right_. and all the world knows, for it cannot help knowing, that to judge _rightly_ and to write _clearly_, and that upon all sorts of subjects, to be able to command thought and as it were to play with it at pleasure, and be always master of one's temper in writing, is the faculty only of a serene mind, and the attribute of a happy and philosophical temperament. the scribblers, who know me not, and who fill their papers with paragraphs about me, besides their want of talents, drink too many slings and drams in a morning to have any chance with me. but, poor fellows, they must do something for the little pittance they get from their employers. this is my apology for them. my anxiety to get back to america was great for many years. it is the country of my heart, and the place of my political and literary birth. it was the american revolution that made me an author, and forced into action the mind that had been dormant, and had no wish for public life, nor has it now. by the accounts i received, she appeared to me to be going wrong, and that some meditated treason against her liberties lurked at the bottom of her government. i heard that my friends were oppressed, and i longed to take my stand among them, and if other times to _try mens souls_ were to arrive, that i might bear my share. but my efforts to return were ineffectual. as soon as mr. monroe had made a good standing with the french government, for the conduct of his predecessor [morris] had made his reception as minister difficult, he wanted to send despatches to his own government by a person to whom he could confide a verbal communication, and he fixed his choice on me. he then applied to the committee of public safety for a passport; but as i had been voted again into the convention, it was only the convention that could give the passport; and as an application to them for that purpose, would have made my going publicly known, i was obliged to sustain the disappointment, and mr. monroe to lose the opportunity.( ) when that gentleman left france to return to america, i was to have gone with him. it was fortunate i did not. the vessel he sailed in was visited by a british frigate, that searched every part of it, and down to the hold, for thomas paine.( ) i then went, the same year, to embark at havre. but several british frigates were cruizing in sight of the port who knew i was there, and i had to return again to paris. seeing myself thus cut off from every opportunity that was in my power to command, i wrote to mr. jefferson, that, if the fate of the election should put him in the chair of the presidency, and he should have occasion to send a frigate to france, he would give me the opportunity of returning by it, which he did. but i declined coming by the _maryland_, the vessel that was offered me, and waited for the frigate that was to bring the new minister, mr. chancellor livingston, to france. but that frigate was ordered round to the mediterranean; and as at that time the war was over, and the british cruisers called in, i could come any way. i then agreed to come with commodore barney in a vessel he had engaged. it was again fortunate i did not, for the vessel sank at sea, and the people were preserved in the boat. the correspondence is in my "life of paine," vol. ii., pp. - .--_editor._ the "dublin packet," captain clay, in whom paine, as he wrote to jefferson, "had no confidence."--_editor._ had half the number of evils befallen me that the number of dangers amount to through which i have been pre-served, there are those who would ascribe it to the wrath of heaven; why then do they not ascribe my preservation to the protecting favour of heaven? even in my worldly concerns i have been blessed. the little property i left in america, and which i cared nothing about, not even to receive the rent of it, has been increasing in the value of its capital more than eight hundred dollars every year, for the fourteen years and more that i have been absent from it. i am now in my circumstances independent; and my economy makes me rich. as to my health, it is perfectly good, and i leave the world to judge of the stature of my mind. i am in every instance a living contradiction to the mortified federalists. in my publications, i follow the rule i began with in _common sense_, that is, to consult nobody, nor to let any body see what i write till it appears publicly. were i to do otherwise, the case would be, that between the timidity of some, who are so afraid of doing wrong that they never do right, the puny judgment of others, and the despicable craft of preferring _expedient to right_, as if the world was a world of babies in leading strings, i should get forward with nothing. my path is a right line, as straight and clear to me as a ray of light. the boldness (if they will have it to be so) with which i speak on any subject, is a compliment to the judgment of the reader. it is like saying to him, _i treat you as a man and not as a child_. with respect to any worldly object, as it is impossible to discover any in me, therefore what i do, and my manner of doing it, ought to be ascribed to a good motive. in a great affair, where the happiness of man is at stake, i love to work for nothing; and so fully am i under the influence of this principle, that i should lose the spirit, the pleasure, and the pride of it, were i conscious that i looked for reward; and with this declaration, i take my leave for the present.( ) the self-assertion of this and other letters about this time was really self-defence, the invective against him, and the calumnies, being such as can hardly be credited by those not familiar with the publications of that time.--_editor._ thomas paine. federal city, lovett's hotel, dec. , . letter v.( ) the national intelligencer, feb., . in the tarions collections of these letters there appears at this point a correspondence between paine and samuel adams of boston, but as it relates to religious matters i reserve it for the fourth volume.--_editor._. it is always the interest of a far greater part of the nation to have a thing right than to have it wrong; and therefore, in a country whose government is founded on the system of election and representation, the fate of every party is decided by its principles. as this system is the only form and principle of government by which liberty can be preserved, and the only one that can embrace all the varieties of a great extent of country, it necessarily follows, that to have the representation real, the election must be real; and that where the election is a fiction, the representation is a fiction also. _like will always produce like_. a great deal has been said and written concerning the conduct of mr. burr, during the late contest, in the federal legislature, whether mr. jefferson or mr. burr should be declared president of the united states. mr. burr has been accused of intriguing to obtain the presidency. whether this charge be substantiated or not makes little or no part of the purport of this letter. there is a point of much higher importance to attend to than any thing that relates to the individual mr. burr: for the great point is not whether mr. burr has intrigued, but whether the legislature has intrigued with _him_. mr. ogden, a relation of one of the senators of new jersey of the same name, and of the party assuming the style of federalists, has written a letter published in the new york papers, signed with his name, the purport of which is to exculpate mr. burr from the charges brought against him. in this letter he says: "when about to return from washington, two or three _members of congress_ of the federal party spoke to me of _their views_, as to the election of a president, desiring me to converse with colonel burr on the subject, and to ascertain _whether he would enter into terms_. on my return to new york i called on colonel burr, and communicated the above to him. he explicitly declined the explanation, and _did neither propose nor agree to any terms_." how nearly is human cunning allied to folly! the animals to whom nature has given the faculty we call _cunning_, know always when to use it, and use it wisely; but when man descends to cunning, he blunders and betrays. mr. ogden's letter is intended to exculpate mr. burr from the charge of intriguing to obtain the presidency; and the letter that he (ogden) writes for this purpose is direct evidence against his party in congress, that they intrigued with burr to obtain him for president, and employed him (ogden) for the purpose. to save _aaron_, he betrays _moses_, and then turns informer against the _golden calf_. it is but of little importance to the world to know if mr. burr _listened_ to an intriguing proposal, but it is of great importance to the constituents to know if their representatives in congress made one. the ear can commit no crime, but the tongue may; and therefore the right policy is to drop mr. burr, as being only the hearer, and direct the whole charge against the federal faction in congress as the active original culprit, or, if the priests will have scripture for it, as the serpent that beguiled eve. in the presidential canvas of , the votes in the electoral college being equally divided between burr and jefferson, the election was thrown into the house of representatives. jefferson was elected on the th ballot, but he never forgave burr, and between these two old friends paine had to write this letter under some embarrassment. the last paragraph of this letter shows paine's desire for a reconciliation between burr and jefferson. aaron burr is one of the traditionally slandered figures of american history. --_editor._ the plot of the intrigue was to make mr. burr president, on the private condition of his agreeing to, and entering into, terms with them, that is, with the proposers. had then the election been made, the country, knowing nothing of this private and illegal transaction, would have supposed, for who could have supposed otherwise, that it had a president according to the forms, principles, and intention of the constitution. no such thing. every form, principle, and intention of the constitution would have been violated; and instead of a president, it would have had a mute, a sort of image, hand-bound and tongue-tied, the dupe and slave of a party, placed on the theatre of the united states, and acting the farce of president. it is of little importance, in a constitutional sense, to know what the terms to be proposed might be, because any terms other than those which the constitution prescribes to a president are criminal. neither do i see how mr. burr, or any other person put in the same condition, could have taken the oath prescribed by the constitution to a president, which is, "_i do solemnly swear (or affirm,) that i will faithfully execute the office of president of the united states, and will to the best of my ability preserve, protect and defend the constitution of the united states_." how, i ask, could such a person have taken such an oath, knowing at the same time that he had entered into the presidency on terms unknown in the constitution, and private, and which would deprive him of the freedom and power of acting as president of the united states, agreeably to his constitutional oath? mr. burr, by not agreeing to terms, has escaped the danger to which they exposed him, and the perjury that would have followed, and also the punishment annexed thereto. had he accepted the presidency on terms unknown in the constitution, and private, and had the transaction afterwards transpired, (which it most probably would, for roguery is a thing difficult to conceal,) it would have produced a sensation in the country too violent to be quieted, and too just to be resisted; and in any case the election must have been void. but what are we to think of those members of congress, who having taken an oath of the same constitutional import as the oath of the president, violate that oath by tampering to obtain a president on private conditions. if this is not sedition against the constitution and the country, it is difficult to define what sedition in a representative can be. say not that this statement of the case is the effect of personal or party resentment. no. it is the effect of _sincere concern_ that such corruption, of which this is but a sample, should, in the space of a few years, have crept into a country that had the fairest opportunity that providence ever gave, within the knowledge of history, of making itself an illustrious example to the world. what the terms were, or were to be, it is probable we never shall know; or what is more probable, that feigned ones, if any, will be given. but from the conduct of the party since that time we may conclude, that no taxes would have been taken off, that the clamour for war would have been kept up, new expences incurred, and taxes and offices increased in consequence; and, among the articles of a private nature, that the leaders in this seditious traffic were to stipulate with the mock president for lucrative appointments for themselves. but if these plotters against the constitution understood their business, and they had been plotting long enough to be masters of it, a single article would have comprehended every thing, which is, _that the president (thus made) should be governed in all cases whatsoever by a private junto appointed by themselves_. they could then, through the medium of a mock president, have negatived all bills which their party in congress could not have opposed with success, and reduced representation to a nullity. the country has been imposed upon, and the real culprits are but few; and as it is necessary for the peace, harmony, and honour of the union, to separate the deceiver from the deceived, the betrayer from the betrayed, that men who once were friends, and that in the worst of times, should be friends again, it is necessary, as a beginning, that this dark business be brought to full investigation. ogden's letter is direct evidence of the fact of tampering to obtain a conditional president. he knows the two or three members of congress that commissioned him, and they know who commissioned them. thomas paine. federal city, lovett's hotel, jan. th, . letter vi.( ) the aurora (philadelphia).--_editor._. religion and war is the cry of the federalists; morality and peace the voice of republicans. the union of morality and peace is congenial; but that of religion and war is a paradox, and the solution of it is hypocrisy. the leaders of the federalists have no judgment; their plans no consistency of parts; and want of consistency is the natural consequence of want of principle. they exhibit to the world the curious spectacle of an _opposition_ without a _cause_, and conduct without system. were they, as doctors, to prescribe medicine as they practise politics, they would poison their patients with destructive compounds. there are not two things more opposed to each other than war and religion; and yet, in the double game those leaders have to play, the one is necessarily the theme of their politics, and the other the text of their sermons. the week-day orator of mars, and the sunday preacher of federal grace, play like gamblers into each other's hands, and this they call religion. though hypocrisy can counterfeit every virtue, and become the associate of every vice, it requires a great dexterity of craft to give it the power of deceiving. a painted sun may glisten, but it cannot warm. for hypocrisy to personate virtue successfully it must know and feel what virtue is, and as it cannot long do this, it cannot long deceive. when an orator foaming for war breathes forth in another sentence a _plaintive piety of words_, he may as well write hypocrisy on his front. the late attempt of the federal leaders in congress (for they acted without the knowledge of their constituents) to plunge the country into war, merits not only reproach but indignation. it was madness, conceived in ignorance and acted in wickedness. the head and the heart went partners in the crime. a neglect of punctuality in the performance of a treaty is made a _cause_ of war by the _barbary powers_, and of remonstrance and explanation by _civilised powers_. the mahometans of barbary negociate by the sword--they seize first, and ex-postulate afterwards; and the federal leaders have been labouring to _barbarize_ the united states by adopting the practice of the barbary states, and this they call honour. let their honour and their hypocrisy go weep together, for both are defeated. their present administration is too moral for hypocrites, and too economical for public spendthrifts. a man the least acquainted with diplomatic affairs must know that a neglect in punctuality is not one of the legal causes of war, unless that neglect be confirmed by a refusal to perform; and even then it depends upon circumstances connected with it. the world would be in continual quarrels and war, and commerce be annihilated, if algerine policy was the law of nations. and were america, instead of becoming an example to the old world of good and moral government and civil manners, or, if they like it better, of gentlemanly conduct towards other nations, to set up the character of ruffian, that of _word and blow, and the blow first_, and thereby give the example of pulling down the little that civilization has gained upon barbarism, her independence, instead of being an honour and a blessing, would become a curse upon the world and upon herself. the conduct of the barbary powers, though unjust in principle, is suited to their prejudices, situation, and circumstances. the crusades of the church to exterminate them fixed in their minds the unobliterated belief that every christian power was their mortal enemy. their religious prejudices, therefore, suggest the policy, which their situation and circumstances protect them in. as a people, they are neither commercial nor agricultural, they neither import nor export, have no property floating on the seas, nor ships and cargoes in the ports of foreign nations. no retaliation, therefore, can be acted upon them, and they sin secure from punishment. but this is not the case with the united states. if she sins as a barbary power, she must answer for it as a civilized one. her commerce is continually passing on the seas exposed to capture, and her ships and cargoes in foreign ports to detention and reprisal. an act of war committed by her in the mississippi would produce a war against the commerce of the atlantic states, and the latter would have to curse the policy that provoked the former. in every point, therefore, in which the character and interest of the united states be considered, it would ill become her to set an example contrary to the policy and custom of civilized powers, and practised only by the barbary powers, that of striking before she expostulates. but can any man, calling himself a legislator, and supposed by his constituents to know something of his duty, be so ignorant as to imagine that seizing on new orleans would finish the affair or even contribute towards it? on the contrary it would have made it worse. the treaty right of deposite at new orleans, and the right of the navigation of the mississippi into the gulph of mexico, are distant things. new orleans is more than an hundred miles in the country from the mouth of the river, and, as a place of deposite, is of no value if the mouth of the river be shut, which either france or spain could do, and which our possession of new orleans could neither prevent or remove. new orleans in our possession, by an act of hostility, would have become a blockaded port, and consequently of no value to the western people as a place of deposite. since, therefore, an interruption had arisen to the commerce of the western states, and until the matter could be brought to a fair explanation, it was of less injury to have the port shut and the river open, than to have the river shut and the port in our possession. that new orleans could be taken required no stretch of policy to plan, nor spirit of enterprize to effect. it was like marching behind a man to knock him down: and the dastardly slyness of such an attack would have stained the fame of the united states. where there is no danger cowards are bold, and captain bobadils are to be found in the senate as well as on the stage. even _gouverneur_, on such a march, dare have shown a leg.( ) gouverneur morris being now leader of the belligerent faction in congress, paine could not resist the temptation to allude to a well-known incident (related in his diary and letters, i., p. ). a mob in paris having surrounded his fine carriage, crying "aristocrat!" morris showed his wooden leg, declaring he had lost his leg in the cause of american liberty. morris was never in any fight, his leg being lost by a commonplace accident while driving in philadelphia. although paine's allusion may appear in bad taste, even with this reference, it was politeness itself compared with the brutal abuse which morris (not content with imprisoning paine in paris) and his adherents were heaping on the author on his return to america; also on monroe, whom jefferson had returned to france to negotiate for the purchase of louisiana.--_editor._, the people of the western country to whom the mississippi serves as an inland sea to their commerce, must be supposed to understand the circumstances of that commerce better than a man who is a stranger to it; and as they have shown no approbation of the war-whoop measures of the federal senators, it becomes presumptive evidence they disapprove them. this is a new mortification for those war-whoop politicians; for the case is, that finding themselves losing ground and withering away in the atlantic states, they laid hold of the affair of new orleans in the vain hope of rooting and reinforcing themselves in the western states; and they did this without perceiving that it was one of those ill judged hypocritical expedients in politics, that whether it succeeded or failed the event would be the same. had their motion [that of ross and morris] succeeded, it would have endangered the commerce of the atlantic states and ruined their reputation there; and on the other hand the attempt to make a tool of the western people was so badly concealed as to extinguish all credit with them. but hypocrisy is a vice of sanguine constitution. it flatters and promises itself every thing; and it has yet to learn, with respect to moral and political reputation, it is less dangerous to offend than to deceive. to the measures of administration, supported by the firmness and integrity of the majority in congress, the united states owe, as far as human means are concerned, the preservation of peace, and of national honour. the confidence which the western people reposed in the government and their representatives is rewarded with success. they are reinstated in their rights with the least possible loss of time; and their harmony with the people of new orleans, so necessary to the prosperity of the united states, which would have been broken, and the seeds of discord sown in its place, had hostilities been preferred to accommodation, remains unimpaired. have the federal ministers of the church meditated on these matters? and laying aside, as they ought to do, their electioneering and vindictive prayers and sermons, returned thanks that peace is preserved, and commerce, without the stain of blood? in the pleasing contemplation of this state of things the mind, by comparison, carries itself back to those days of uproar and extravagance that marked the career of the former administration, and decides, by the unstudied impulse of its own feelings, that something must then have been wrong. why was it, that america, formed for happiness, and remote by situation and circumstances from the troubles and tumults of the european world, became plunged into its vortex and contaminated with its crimes? the answer is easy. those who were then at the head of affairs were apostates from the principles of the revolution. raised to an elevation they had not a right to expect, nor judgment to conduct, they became like feathers in the air, and blown about by every puff of passion or conceit. candour would find some apology for their conduct if want of judgment was their only defect. but error and crime, though often alike in their features, are distant in their characters and in their origin. the one has its source in the weakness of the head, the other in the hardness of the heart, and the coalition of the two, describes the former administration.( ) that of john adams.--_editor._ had no injurious consequences arisen from the conduct of that administration, it might have passed for error or imbecility, and been permitted to die and be forgotten. the grave is kind to innocent offence. but even innocence, when it is a cause of injury, ought to undergo an enquiry. the country, during the time of the former administration, was kept in continual agitation and alarm; and that no investigation might be made into its conduct, it entrenched itself within a magic circle of terror, and called it a sedition law.( ) violent and mysterious in its measures and arrogant in its manners, it affected to disdain information, and insulted the principles that raised it from obscurity. john adams and timothy pickering were men whom nothing but the accidents of the times rendered visible on the political horizon. elevation turned their heads, and public indignation hath cast them to the ground. but an inquiry into the conduct and measures of that administration is nevertheless necessary. the country was put to great expense. loans, taxes, and standing armies became the standing order of the day. the militia, said secretary pickering, are not to be depended upon, and fifty thousand men must be raised. for what? no cause to justify such measures has yet appeared. no discovery of such a cause has yet been made. the pretended sedition law shut up the sources of investigation, and the precipitate flight of john adams closed the scene. but the matter ought not to sleep here. it is not to gratify resentment, or encourage it in others, that i enter upon this subject. it is not in the power of man to accuse me of a persecuting spirit. but some explanation ought to be had. the motives and objects respecting the extraordinary and expensive measures of the former administration ought to be known. the sedition law, that shield of the moment, prevented it then, and justice demands it now. if the public have been imposed upon, it is proper they should know it; for where judgment is to act, or a choice is to be made, knowledge is first necessary. the conciliation of parties, if it does not grow out of explanation, partakes of the character of collusion or indifference. passed july , , to continue until march , . this act, described near the close of this letter, and one passed june th, giving the president despotic powers over aliens in the united states, constituted the famous "alien and sedition laws." hamilton opposed them, and rightly saw in them the suicide of the federal party.--_editor._, there has been guilt somewhere; and it is better to fix it where it belongs, and separate the deceiver from the deceived, than that suspicion, the bane of society, should range at large, and sour the public mind. the military measures that were proposed and carrying on during the former administration, could not have for their object the defence of the country against invasion. this is a case that decides itself; for it is self evident, that while the war raged in europe, neither france nor england could spare a man to send to america. the object, therefore, must be something at home, and that something was the overthrow of the representative system of government, for it could be nothing else. but the plotters got into confusion and became enemies to each other. adams hated and was jealous of hamilton, and hamilton hated and despised both adams and washington.( ) surly timothy stood aloof, as he did at the affair of lexington, and the part that fell to the public was to pay the expense.( ) hamilton's bitter pamphlet against adams appeared in , but his old quarrel with washington ( ) had apparently healed. yet, despite the favors lavished by washington on hamilton, there is no certainty that the latter ever changed his unfavorable opinion of the former, as expressed in a letter to general schuylor, feb. , (lodge's "hamilton's works," vol. viii., p. ).--_editor._ colonel pickering's failure, in , to march his salem troops in time to intercept the british retreat from lexington was attributed to his half-heartedness in the patriotic cause.--_editor._ but ought a people who, but a few years ago, were fighting the battles of the world, for liberty had no home but here, ought such a people to stand quietly by and see that liberty undermined by apostacy and overthrown by intrigue? let the tombs of the slain recall their recollection, and the forethought of what their children are to be revive and fix in their hearts the love of liberty. if the former administration can justify its conduct, give it the opportunity. the manner in which john adams disappeared from the government renders an inquiry the more necessary. he gave some account of himself, lame and confused as it was, to certain _eastern wise men_ who came to pay homage to him on his birthday. but if he thought it necessary to do this, ought he not to have rendered an account to the public. they had a right to expect it of him. in that tête-à-tête account, he says, "some measures were the effect of imperious necessity, much against my inclination." what measures does mr. adams mean, and what is the imperious necessity to which he alludes? "others (says he) were measures of the legislature, which, although approved when passed, were never previously proposed or recommended by me." what measures, it may be asked, were those, for the public have a right to know the conduct of their representatives? "some (says he) left to my discretion were never executed, because no necessity for them, in my judgment, ever occurred." what does this dark apology, mixed with accusation, amount to, but to increase and confirm the suspicion that something was wrong? administration only was possessed of foreign official information, and it was only upon that information communicated by him publicly or privately, or to congress, that congress could act; and it is not in the power of mr. adams to show, from the condition of the belligerent powers, that any imperious necessity called for the warlike and expensive measures of his administration. what the correspondence between administration and rufus king in london, or quincy adams in holland, or berlin, might be, is but little known. the public papers have told us that the former became cup-bearer from the london underwriters to captain truxtun,( ) for which, as minister from a neutral nation, he ought to have been censured. it is, however, a feature that marks the politics of the minister, and hints at the character of the correspondence. thomas truxtun ( - ), for having captured the french frigate "l'insurgente," off hen's island, , was presented at lloyd's coffee-house with plate to the value of guineas. rufus king ( - ), made minister to england in , continued under adams, and for two years under jefferson's administration.--_editor._ i know that it is the opinion of several members of both houses of congress, that an enquiry, with respect to the conduct of the late administration, ought to be gone into. the convulsed state into which the country has been thrown will be best settled by a full and fair exposition of the conduct of that administration, and the causes and object of that conduct. to be deceived, or to remain deceived, can be the interest of no man who seeks the public good; and it is the deceiver only, or one interested in the deception, that can wish to preclude enquiry. the suspicion against the late administration is, that it was plotting to overturn the representative system of government, and that it spread alarms of invasions that had no foundation, as a pretence for raising and establishing a military force as the means of accomplishing that object. the law, called the sedition law, enacted, that if any person should write or publish, or cause to be written or published, any libel [without defining what a libel is] against the government of the united states, or either house of congress, or against the president, he should be punished by a fine not exceeding two thousand dollars, and by imprisonment not exceeding two years. but it is a much greater crime for a president to plot against a constitution and the liberties of the people, than for an individual to plot against a president; and consequently, john adams is accountable to the public for his conduct, as the individuals under his administration were to the sedition law. the object, however, of an enquiry, in this case, is not to punish, but to satisfy; and to shew, by example, to future administrations, that an abuse of power and trust, however disguised by appearances, or rendered plausible by pretence, is one time or other to be accounted for. thomas paine. bordentown, on the delaware, new jersey, march , . vol. iii-- letter vii. editor's preface. this letter was printed in _the true american_, trenton, new jersey, soon after paine's return to his old home at bordenton. it is here printed from the original manuscript, for which i am indebted to mr. w. f. havemeyer of new york. although the editor has concluded to present paine's "maritime compact" in the form he finally gave it, the articles were printed in french in , and by s. h. smith, washington, at the close of the same year. there is an interesting history connected with it. john hall, in his diary ("trenton, april, ") relates that paine told him of dr. franklin, whom he (paine) had just visited in philadelphia, and the treaty he, the doctor, made with the late king of prussia by adding an article that, should war ever break out, commerce should be free. the doctor said he showed it to vergennes, who said it met his idea, and was such as he would make even with england. in his address to the people of france, (see p. ), paine closes with a suggestion on the subject, and a year later (september , ), when events were in a critical condition, he sent nine articles of his proposed _pacte maritime_ to talleyrand, newly appointed minister of foreign affairs. the letters that passed are here taken from the originals (state archives, paris, États unis, vol. ). "rue theatre française, no. , vendemaire, year. "citizen minister: i promised you some observations on the state of things between france and america. i divide the case into two parts. first, with respect to some method that shall effectually put an end to all interruptions of the american commerce. secondly, with respect to the settlement for the captures that have been made on that commerce. "as to the first case (the interruption of the american commerce by france) it has foundation in the british treaty, and it is the continuance of that treaty that renders the remedy difficult. besides, the american administration has blundered so much in the business of treaty-making, that it is probable it will blunder again in making another with france. there is, however, one method left, and there is but one that i can see, that will be effectual. it is a _non-importation convention; that america agrees not to import from any nation in europe who shall interrupt her commerce on the seas, any goods, wares, or merchandize whatever, and that all her ports shall be shut against the nation that gives the offence_. this will draw america out of her difficulties with respect to her treaty with england. "but it will be far better if this non-importation convention were to be a general convention of nations acting as a whole. it would give a better protection to neutral commerce than the armed neutrality could do. i would rather be a neutral nation under the protection of such a convention, which costs nothing to make it, than be under the protection of a navy equal to that of great britain. france should be the patron of such a convention and sign it. it would be giving both her consent and her protection to the rights of neutral nations. if england refuse to sign it she will nevertheless be obliged to respect it, or lose all her commerce. "i enclose you a plan i drew up about four months ago, when there was expectation that mr. madison would come to france. it has lain by me ever since. "the second part, that of settlement for the captures, i will make the subject of a future correspondence. salut et respect." talleyrand's reply ("foreign relations, vendemaire an. ," oct. , ): "i have the honor to return you, citizen, with very sincere thanks, your letter to general washington which you have had the goodness to show me. "i have received the letter which you have taken the trouble to write me, the th of this month. i need not assure you of the appreciation with which i shall receive the further indications you promise on the means of terminating in a durable manner the differences which must excite your interest as a patriot and as a republican. animated by such a principle your ideas cannot fail to throw valuable light on the discussion you open, and which should have for its object to reunite the two republics in whose alienation the enemies of liberty triumph." paine's plan made a good impression in france--he writes to jefferson, october , , that the consul le brun, at an entertainment given to the american envoys, gave for his toast: "À l'union de ' amérique avec les puissances du nord pour faire respecter la liberté des mers." the malignant mind, like the jaundiced eye, sees everything through a false medium of its own creating. the light of heaven appears stained with yellow to the distempered sight of the one, and the fairest actions have the form of crimes in the venomed imagination of the other. for seven months, both before and after my return to america in october last, the apostate papers styling themselves "federal" were filled with paragraphs and essays respecting a letter from mr. jefferson to me at paris; and though none of them knew the contents of the letter, nor the occasion of writing it, malignity taught them to suppose it, and the lying tongue of injustice lent them its aid. that the public may no longer be imposed upon by federal apostacy, i will now publish the letter, and the occasion of its being written. the treaty negociated in england by john jay, and ratified by the washington administration, had so disgracefully surrendered the right and freedom of the american flag, that all the commerce of the united states on the ocean became exposed to capture, and suffered in consequence of it. the duration of the treaty was limited to two years after the war; and consequently america could not, during that period, relieve herself from the chains which the treaty had fixed upon her. this being the case, the only relief that could come must arise out of something originating in europe, that would, in its consequences, extend to america. it had long been my opinion that commerce contained within itself the means of its own protection; but as the time for bringing forward any new system is not always happening, it is necessary to watch its approach, and lay hold of it before it passes away. as soon as the late emperor paul of russia abandoned his coalition with england and become a neutral power, this crisis of time, and also of circumstances, was then arriving; and i employed it in arranging a plan for the protection of the commerce of neutral nations during war, that might, in its operation and consequences, relieve the commerce of america. the plan, with the pieces accompanying it, consisted of about forty pages. the citizen bonneville, with whom i lived in paris, translated it into french; mr. skipwith, the american consul, joel barlow, and myself, had the translation printed and distributed as a present to the foreign ministers of all the neutral nations then resident in paris. this was in the summer of . it was entitled maritime compact (in french _pacte maritime_), the plan, exclusive of the pieces that accompanied it, consisted of the following preamble and articles. maritime compact. being an unarmed association of nations for the protection of the rights and commerce of nations that shall be neutral in time of war. whereas, the vexations and injuries to which the rights and commerce of neutral nations have been, and continue to be, exposed during the time of maritime war, render it necessary to establish a law of nations for the purpose of putting an end to such vexations and injuries, and to guarantee to the neutral nations the exercise of their just rights, we, therefore, the undersigned powers, form ourselves into an association, and establish the following as a law of nations on the seas. article the first. definition of the rights of neutral nations. the rights of nations, such as are exercised by them in their intercourse with each other in time of peace, are, and of right ought to be, the rights of neutral nations at all times; because, first, those rights not having been abandoned by them, remain with them. secondly, because those rights cannot become forfeited or void, in consequence of war breaking out between two or more other nations. a war of nation against nation being exclusively the act of the nations that make the war, and not the act of the neutral nations, cannot, whether considered in itself or in its consequences, destroy or diminish the rights of the nations remaining in peace. article the second. the ships and vessels of nations that rest neuter and at peace with the world during a war with other nations, have a right to navigate freely on the seas as they navigated before that war broke out, and to proceed to and enter the port or ports of any of the belligerent powers, _with the consent of that power_, without being seized, searched, visited, or any ways interrupted, by the nation or nations with which that nation is at war. article the third. for the conservation of the aforesaid rights, we, the undersigned powers, engaging to each other our sacred faith and honour, declare, that if any belligerent power shall seize, search, visit, or any ways interrupt any ship or vessel belonging to the citizens or subjects of any of the powers composing this association, then each and all of the said undersigned powers will cease to import, and will not permit to be imported into the ports or dominions of any of the said undersigned powers, in any ship or vessel whatever, any goods, wares, or merchandize, produced or manufactured in, or exported from, the dominions of the power so offending against the association hereby established and proclaimed. article the fourth. that all the ports appertaining to any and all of the powers composing this association shall be shut against the flag of the offending nation. article the fifth. that no remittance or payment in money, merchandize, or bills of exchange, shall be made by any of the citizens, or subjects, of any of the powers composing this association, to the citizens or subjects of the offending nation, for the term of one year, or until reparation be made. the reparation to be ---- times the amount of the damages sustained. article the sixth. if any ship or vessel appertaining to any of the citizens or subjects of any of the powers composing this association shall be seized, searched, visited, or interrupted, by any belligerent nation, or be forcibly prevented entering the port of her destination, or be seized, searched, visited, or interrupted, in coming out of such port, or be forcibly prevented from proceeding to any new destination, or be insulted or visited by any agent from on board any vessel of any belligerent power, the government or executive power of the nation to which the ship or vessel so seized, searched, visited, or interrupted belongs, shall, on evidence of the fact, make public proclamation of the same, and send a copy thereof to the government, or executive, of each of the powers composing this association, who shall publish the same in all the extent of his dominions, together with a declaration, that at the expiration of ---- days after publication, the penal articles of this association shall be put in execution against the offending nation. article the seventh. if reparation be not made within the space of one year, the said proclamation shall be renewed for one year more, and so on. article the eighth. the association chooses for itself a flag to be carried at the mast-head conjointly with the national flag of each nation composing this association. the flag of the association shall be composed of the same colors as compose the rainbow, and arranged in the same order as they appear in that phenomenon. article the ninth. and whereas, it may happen that one or more of the nations composing this association may be, at the time of forming it, engaged in war or become so in future, in that case, the ships and vessels of such nation shall carry the flag of the association bound round the mast, to denote that the nation to which she belongs is a member of the association and a respecter of its laws. n. b. this distinction in the manner of carrying the flag is mearly for the purpose, that neutral vessels having the flag at the mast-head, may be known at first sight. article the tenth. and whereas, it is contrary to the moral principles of neutrality and peace, that any neutral nation should furnish to the belligerent powers, or any of them, the means of carrying on war against each other, we, therefore, the powers composing this association, declare, that we will each one for itself, prohibit in our dominions the exportation or transportation of military stores, comprehending gunpowder, cannon, and cannon-balls, fire arms of all kinds, and all kinds of iron and steel weapons used in war. excluding therefrom all kinds of utensils and instruments used in civil or domestic life, and every other article that cannot, in its immediate state, be employed in war. having thus declared the moral motives of the foregoing article, we declare also the civil and political intention thereof, to wit, that as belligerent nations have no right to visit or search any ship or vessel belonging to a nation at peace, and under the protection of the laws and government thereof, and as all such visit or search is an insult to the nation to which such ship or vessel belongs and to the government of the same, we, therefore, the powers composing this association, will take the right of prohibition on ourselves to whom it properly belongs, and by whom only it can be legally exercised, and not permit foreign nations, in a state of war, to usurp the right of legislating by proclamation for any of the citizens or subjects of the powers composing this association. it is, therefore, in order to take away all pretence of search or visit, which by being offensive might become a new cause of war, that we will provide laws and publish them by proclamation, each in his own dominion, to prohibit the supplying, or carrying to, the belligerent powers, or either of them, the military stores or articles before mentioned, annexing thereto a penalty to be levied or inflicted upon any persons within our several dominions transgressing the same. and we invite all persons, as well of the belligerent nations as of our own, or of any other, to give information of any knowledge they may have of any transgressions against the said law, that the offenders may be prosecuted. by this conduct we restore the word contraband (_contra_ and _ban_) to its true and original signification, which means against law, edict, or proclamation; and none but the government of a nation can have, or can exercise, the right of making laws, edicts, or proclamations, for the conduct of its citizens or subjects. now we, the undersigned powers, declare the aforesaid articles to be a law of nations at all times, or until a congress of nations shall meet to form some law more effectual. and we do recommend that immediately on the breaking out of war between any two or more nations, that deputies be appointed by all neutral nations, whether members of this association or not, to meet in congress in some central place to take cognizance of any violations of the rights of neutral nations. signed, &c. for the purpose of giving operation to the aforesaid plan of an _unarmed association_, the following paragraph was subjoined: it may be judged proper for the order of business, that the association of nations have a president for a term of years, and the presidency to pass by rotation, to each of the parties composing the association. in that case, and for the sake of regularity, the first president to be the executive power of the most northerly nation composing the association, and his deputy or minister at the congress to be president of the congress,--and the next most northerly to be vice-president, who shall succeed to the presidency, and so on. the line determining the geographical situation of each, to be the latitude of the capital of each nation. if this method be adopted it will be proper that the first president be nominally constituted in order to give rotation to the rest. in that case the following article might be added to the foregoing, viz't. the constitution of the association nominates the emperor paul to be _first president_ of the association of nations for the protection of neutral commerce, and securing the freedom of the seas. the foregoing plan, as i have before mentioned, was presented to the ministers of all the neutral nations then in paris, in the summer of . six copies were given to the russian general springporten; and a russian gentleman who was going to petersburgh took two expressly for the purpose of putting them into the hands of paul i sent the original manuscript, in my own handwriting, to mr. jefferson, and also wrote him four letters, dated the st, th, th, th of october, , giving him an account of what was then going on in europe respecting neutral commerce. the case was, that in order to compel the english government to acknowledge the rights of neutral commerce, and that free ships make free goods, the _emperor paul_, in the month of september following the publication of the plan, shut all the ports of russia against england. sweden and denmark did the same by their ports, and denmark shut up hamburgh. prussia shut up the elbe and the weser. the ports of spain, portugal, and naples were shut up, and, in general, all the ports of italy, except venice, which the emperor of germany held; and had it not been for the untimely death of paul, a _law of nations_, founded on the authority of nations, for establishing the rights of neutral commerce and the freedom of the seas, would have been proclaimed, and the government of england must have consented to that law, or the nation must have lost its commerce; and the consequence to america would have been, that such a law would, in a great measure if not entirely, have released her from the injuries of jay's treaty. of all these matters i informed mr. jefferson. this was before he was president, and the letter he wrote me after he was president was in answer to those i had written to him and the manuscript copy of the plan i had sent here. here follows the letter: washington, march , . dear sir: your letters of oct. st, th, th, th, came duly to hand, and the papers which they covered were, according to your permission, published in the newspapers, and in a pamphlet, and under your own name. these papers contain precisely our principles, and i hope they will be generally recognized here. _determined as we are to avoid, if possible, wasting the energies of our people in war and destruction, we shall avoid implicating ourselves with the powers of europe, even in support of principles which we mean to pursue. they have so many other interests different from ours that we must avoid being entangled in them. we believe we can enforce those principles as to ourselves by peaceable means, now that we are likely to have our public councils detached from foreign views. the return of our citizens from the phrenzy into which they had been wrought, partly by ill conduct in france, partly by artifices practiced upon them, is almost extinct, and will, i believe, become quite so_, but these details, too minute and long for a letter, will be better developed by mr. dawson, the bearer of this, a member of the late congress, to whom i refer you for them. he goes in the maryland sloop of war, which will wait a few days at havre to receive his letters to be written on his arrival at paris. you expressed a wish to get a passage to this country in a public vessel. mr. dawson is charged with orders to the captain of the maryland to receive and accommodate you back if you can be ready to depart at such a short warning. rob't r. livingston is appointed minister plenipotentiary to the republic of france, but will not leave this, till we receive the ratification of the convention by mr. dawson. i am in hopes you will find us returned generally to sentiments worthy of former times. in these it will be your glory to have steadily laboured and with as much effect as any man living. that you may long live to continue your useful labours and to reap the reward in the thankfulness of nations is my sincere prayer. accept assurances of my high esteem and affectionate attachment. thomas jefferson. this, citizens of the united states, is the letter about which the leaders and tools of the federal faction, without knowing its contents or the occasion of writing it, have wasted so many malignant falsehoods. it is a letter which, on account of its wise economy and peaceable principles, and its forbearance to reproach, will be read by every good man and every good citizen with pleasure; and the faction, mortified at its appearance, will have to regret they forced it into publication. the least atonement they can now offer is to make the letter as public as they have made their own infamy, and learn to lie no more. the same injustice they shewed to mr. jefferson they shewed to me. i had employed myself in europe, and at my own expense, in forming and promoting a plan that would, in its operation, have benefited the commerce of america; and the faction here invented and circulated an account in the papers they employ, that i had given a plan to the french for burning all the towns on the coast from savannah to baltimore. were i to prosecute them for this (and i do not promise that i will not, for the liberty of the press is not the liberty of lying,) there is not a federal judge, not even one of midnight appointment, but must, from the nature of the case, be obliged to condemn them. the faction, however, cannot complain they have been restrained in any thing. they have had their full swing of lying uncontradicted; they have availed themselves, unopposed, of all the arts hypocrisy could devise; and the event has been, what in all such cases it ever will and ought to be, _the ruin of themselves_. the characters of the late and of the present administrations are now sufficiently marked, and the adherents of each keep up the distinction. the former administration rendered itself notorious by outrage, coxcombical parade, false alarms, a continued increase of taxes, and an unceasing clamor for war; and as every vice has a virtue opposed to it, the present administration moves on the direct contrary line. the question, therefore, at elections is not properly a question upon persons, but upon principles. those who are for peace, moderate taxes, and mild government, will vote for the administration that conducts itself by those principles, in whatever hands that administration may be. there are in the united states, and particularly in the middle states, several religious sects, whose leading moral principle is peace. it is, therefore, impossible that such persons, consistently with the dictates of that principle, can vote for an administration that is clamorous for war. when moral principles, rather than persons, are candidates for power, to vote is to perform a moral duty, and not to vote is to neglect a duty. that persons who are hunting after places, offices, and contracts, should be advocates for war, taxes, and extravagance, is not to be wondered at; but that so large a portion of the people who had nothing to depend upon but their industry, and no other public prospect but that of paying taxes, and bearing the burden, should be advocates for the same measures, is a thoughtlessness not easily accounted for. but reason is recovering her empire, and the fog of delusion is clearing away. thomas paine. bordentown, on the delaware, new jersey, april , .( ) endorsed: "sent by gen. bloomfield per mr. wilson for mr. duane." and, in a later hand: "paine letter . found among the bartram papers sent by col. carr."--editor. xxxiv. to the french inhabitants of louisiana.( ) in a letter to albert gallatin, secretary of the treasury (oct , ), john randolph of roanoke proposed "the printing of -- thousand copies of tom paine's answer to their remonstrance, and transmitting them by as many thousand troops, who can speak a language perfectly intelligible to the people of louisiana, whatever that of their government may be," the purchase of louisiana was announced to the senate by president jefferson, october , .--editor. a publication having the appearance of a memorial and remonstrance, to be presented to congress at the ensuing session, has appeared in several papers. it is therefore open to examination, and i offer you my remarks upon it. the title and introductory paragraph are as follows: "_to the congress of the united states in the senate and house of representatives convened_: we the subscribers, planters, merchants, and other inhabitants of louisiana, respectfully approach the legislature of the united states with a memorial of _our rights_, a remonstrance against certain laws which contravene them, and a petition for that redress to which the laws of nature, sanctioned by positive stipulations, have entitled us." it often happens that when one party, or one that thinks itself a party, talks much about its rights, it puts those of the other party upon examining into their own, and such is the effect produced by your memorial. a single reading of that memorial will show it is the work of some person who is not of your people. his acquaintance with the cause, commencement, progress, and termination of the american revolution, decides this point; and his making our merits in that revolution the ground of your claims, as if our merits could become yours, show she does not understand your situation. we obtained our rights by calmly understanding principles, and by the successful event of a long, obstinate, and expensive war. but it is not incumbent on us to fight the battles of the world for the world's profit. you are already participating, without any merit or expense in obtaining it, the blessings of freedom acquired by ourselves; and in proportion as you become initiated into the principles and practice of the representative system of government, of which you have yet had no experience, you will participate more, and finally be partakers of the whole. you see what mischief ensued in france by the possession of power before they understood principles. they earned liberty in words, but not in fact. the writer of this was in france through the whole of the revolution, and knows the truth of what he speaks; for after endeavouring to give it principle, he had nearly fallen a victim to its rage. there is a great want of judgment in the person who drew up your memorial. he has mistaken your case, and forgotten his own; and by trying to court your applause has injured your pretensions. he has written like a lawyer, straining every point that would please his client, without studying his advantage. i find no fault with the composition of the memorial, for it is well written; nor with the principles of liberty it contains, considered in the abstract. the error lies in the misapplication of them, and in assuming a ground they have not a right to stand upon. instead of their serving you as a ground of reclamation against us, they change into a satire on yourselves. why did you not speak thus when you ought to have spoken it? we fought for liberty when you stood quiet in slavery. the author of the memorial injudiciously confounding two distinct cases together, has spoken as if he was the memorialist of a body of americans, who, after sharing equally with us in all the dangers and hardships of the revolutionary war, had retired to a distance and made a settlement for themselves. if, in such a situation, congress had established a temporary government over them, in which they were not personally consulted, they would have had a right to speak as the memorial speaks. but your situation is different from what the situation of such persons would be, and therefore their ground of reclamation cannot of right become yours. you are arriving at freedom by the easiest means that any people ever enjoyed it; without contest, without expense, and even without any contrivance of your own. and you already so far mistake principles, that under the name of _rights_ you ask for _powers; power to import and enslave africans_; and _to govern_ a territory that _we have purchased_. to give colour to your memorial, you refer to the treaty of cession, (in which _you were not_ one of the contracting parties,) concluded at paris between the governments of the united states and france. "the third article" you say "of the treaty lately concluded at paris declares, that the inhabitants of the ceded territory shall be incorporated in the union of the united states, and admitted _as soon as possible, according to the principles_ of the federal constitution, to the enjoyment of all the rights, advantages, and immunities of citizens of the united states; and _in the mean time_, they shall be protected in the enjoyment of their liberty, property, and the exercise of the religion they profess." as from your former condition, you cannot be much acquainted with diplomatic policy, and i am convinced that even the gentleman who drew up the memorial is not, i will explain to you the grounds of this article. it may prevent your running into further errors. the territory of louisiana had been so often ceded to different european powers, that it became a necessary article on the part of france, and for the security of spain, the ally of france, and which accorded perfectly with our own principles and intentions, that it should be _ceded no more_; and this article, stipulating for the incorporation of louisiana into the union of the united states, stands as a bar against all future cession, and at the same time, as well as "_in the mean time_" secures to you a civil and political permanency, personal security and liberty which you never enjoyed before. france and spain might suspect, (and the suspicion would not have been ill-founded had the cession been treated for in the administration of john adams, or when washington was president, and alexander hamilton president over him,) that we _bought_ louisiana for the british government, or with a view of selling it to her; and though such suspicion had no just ground to stand upon with respect to our present president, thomas jefferson, who is not only not a man of intrigue but who possesses that honest pride of principle that cannot be intrigued with, and which keeps intriguers at a distance, the article was nevertheless necessary as a precaution against future contingencies. but you, from not knowing the political ground of the article, apply to yourselves _personally_ and _exclusively_, what had reference to the _territory_, to prevent its falling into the hands of any foreign power that might endanger the [establishment of] _spanish_ dominion in america, or those of the _french_ in the west india islands. you claim, (you say), to be incorporated into the union of the united states, and your remonstrances on this subject are unjust and without cause. you are already _incorporated_ into it as fully and effectually as the americans themselves are, who are settled in louisiana. you enjoy the same rights, privileges, advantages, and immunities, which they enjoy; and when louisiana, or some part of it, shall be erected into a constitutional state, you also will be citizens equal with them. you speak in your memorial, as if you were the only people who were to live in louisiana, and as if the territory was purchased that you exclusively might govern it. in both these cases you are greatly mistaken. the emigrations from the united states into the purchased territory, and the population arising therefrom, will, in a few years, exceed you in numbers. it is but twenty-six years since kentucky began to be settled, and it already contains more than _double_ your population. in a candid view of the case, you ask for what would be injurious to yourselves to receive, and unjust in us to grant. _injurious_, because the settlement of louisiana will go on much faster under the government and guardianship of congress, then if the government of it were committed to _your_ hands; and consequently, the landed property you possessed as individuals when the treaty was concluded, or have purchased since, will increase so much faster in value.--_unjust to ourselves_, because as the reimbursements of the purchase money must come out of the sale of the lands to new settlers, the government of it cannot suddenly go out of the hands of congress. they are guardians of that property for _all the people of the united states_. and besides this, as the new settlers will be chiefly from the united states, it would be unjust and ill policy to put them and their property under the jurisdiction of a people whose freedom they had contributed to purchase. you ought also to recollect, that the french revolution has not exhibited to the world that grand display of principles and rights, that would induce settlers from other countries to put themselves under a french jurisdiction in louisiana. beware of intriguers who may push you on from private motives of their own. you complain of two cases, one of which you have _no right_, no concern with; and the other is founded in direct injustice. you complain that congress has passed a law to divide the country into two territories. it is not improper to inform you, that after the revolutionary war ended, congress divided the territory acquired by that war into ten territories; each of which was to be erected into a constitutional state, when it arrived at a certain population mentioned in the act; and, in the mean time, an officer appointed by the president, as the governor of louisiana now is, presided, as governor of the western territory, over all such parts as have not arrived at the maturity of _statehood_. louisiana will require to be divided into twelve states or more; but this is a matter that belongs to _the purchaser_ of the territory of louisiana, and with which the inhabitants of the town of new-orleans have no right to interfere; and beside this, it is probable that the inhabitants of the other territory would choose to be independent of new-orleans. they might apprehend, that on some speculating pretence, their produce might be put in requisition, and a maximum price put on it--a thing not uncommon in a french government. as a general rule, without refining upon sentiment, one may put confidence in the justice of those who have no inducement to do us injustice; and this is the case congress stands in with respect to both territories, and to all other divisions that may be laid out, and to all inhabitants and settlers, of whatever nation they may be. there can be no such thing as what the memorial speaks of, that is, _of a governor appointed by the president who may have no interest in the welfare of louisiana_. he must, from the nature of the case, have more interest in it than any other person can have. he is entrusted with the care of an extensive tract of country, now the property of the united states by purchase. the value of those lands will depend on the increasing prosperity of louisiana, its agriculture, commerce, and population. you have only a local and partial interest in the town of new-orleans, or its vicinity; and if, in consequence of exploring the country, new seats of commerce should offer, his general interest would lead him to open them, and your partial interest to shut them up. there is probably some justice in your remark, as it applies to the governments under which you _formerly_ lived. such governments always look with jealousy, and an apprehension of revolt, on colonies increasing in prosperity and population, and they send governors to _keep them down_. but when you argue from the conduct of governments _distant and despotic_, to that of _domestic_ and _free_ government, it shows you do not understand the principles and interest of a republic, and to put you right is friendship. we have had experience, and you have not. the other case to which i alluded, as being founded in direct injustice, is that in which you petition for _power_, under the name of _rights_, to import and enslave africans! _dare you put up a petition to heaven for such a power, without fearing to be struck from the earth by its justice?_ _why, then, do you ask it of man against man?_ _do you want to renew in louisiana the horrors of domingo?_ common sense. sept , . end of volume iii. political ideals by bertrand russell contents i: political ideals ii: capitalism and the wage system iii: pitfalls in socialism iv: individual liberty and public control v: national independence and internationalism chapter i: political ideals in dark days, men need a clear faith and a well-grounded hope; and as the outcome of these, the calm courage which takes no account of hardships by the way. the times through which we are passing have afforded to many of us a confirmation of our faith. we see that the things we had thought evil are really evil, and we know more definitely than we ever did before the directions in which men must move if a better world is to arise on the ruins of the one which is now hurling itself into destruction. we see that men's political dealings with one another are based on wholly wrong ideals, and can only be saved by quite different ideals from continuing to be a source of suffering, devastation, and sin. political ideals must be based upon ideals for the individual life. the aim of politics should be to make the lives of individuals as good as possible. there is nothing for the politician to consider outside or above the various men, women, and children who compose the world. the problem of politics is to adjust the relations of human beings in such a way that each severally may have as much of good in his existence as possible. and this problem requires that we should first consider what it is that we think good in the individual life. to begin with, we do not want all men to be alike. we do not want to lay down a pattern or type to which men of all sorts are to be made by some means or another to approximate. this is the ideal of the impatient administrator. a bad teacher will aim at imposing his opinion, and turning out a set of pupils all of whom will give the same definite answer on a doubtful point. mr. bernard shaw is said to hold that _troilus and cressida_ is the best of shakespeare's plays. although i disagree with this opinion, i should welcome it in a pupil as a sign of individuality; but most teachers would not tolerate such a heterodox view. not only teachers, but all commonplace persons in authority, desire in their subordinates that kind of uniformity which makes their actions easily predictable and never inconvenient. the result is that they crush initiative and individuality when they can, and when they cannot, they quarrel with it. it is not one ideal for all men, but a separate ideal for each separate man, that has to be realized if possible. every man has it in his being to develop into something good or bad: there is a best possible for him, and a worst possible. his circumstances will determine whether his capacities for good are developed or crushed, and whether his bad impulses are strengthened or gradually diverted into better channels. but although we cannot set up in any detail an ideal of character which is to be universally applicable--although we cannot say, for instance, that all men ought to be industrious, or self-sacrificing, or fond of music--there are some broad principles which can be used to guide our estimates as to what is possible or desirable. we may distinguish two sorts of goods, and two corresponding sorts of impulses. there are goods in regard to which individual possession is possible, and there are goods in which all can share alike. the food and clothing of one man is not the food and clothing of another; if the supply is insufficient, what one man has is obtained at the expense of some other man. this applies to material goods generally, and therefore to the greater part of the present economic life of the world. on the other hand, mental and spiritual goods do not belong to one man to the exclusion of another. if one man knows a science, that does not prevent others from knowing it; on the contrary, it helps them to acquire the knowledge. if one man is a great artist or poet, that does not prevent others from painting pictures or writing poems, but helps to create the atmosphere in which such things are possible. if one man is full of good-will toward others, that does not mean that there is less good-will to be shared among the rest; the more good-will one man has, the more he is likely to create among others. in such matters there is no _possession_, because there is not a definite amount to be shared; any increase anywhere tends to produce an increase everywhere. there are two kinds of impulses, corresponding to the two kinds of goods. there are _possessive_ impulses, which aim at acquiring or retaining private goods that cannot be shared; these center in the impulse of property. and there are _creative_ or constructive impulses, which aim at bringing into the world or making available for use the kind of goods in which there is no privacy and no possession. the best life is the one in which the creative impulses play the largest part and the possessive impulses the smallest. this is no new discovery. the gospel says: "take no thought, saying, what shall we eat? or what shall we drink? or, wherewithal shall we be clothed?" the thought we give to these things is taken away from matters of more importance. and what is worse, the habit of mind engendered by thinking of these things is a bad one; it leads to competition, envy, domination, cruelty, and almost all the moral evils that infest the world. in particular, it leads to the predatory use of force. material possessions can be taken by force and enjoyed by the robber. spiritual possessions cannot be taken in this way. you may kill an artist or a thinker, but you cannot acquire his art or his thought. you may put a man to death because he loves his fellow-men, but you will not by so doing acquire the love which made his happiness. force is impotent in such matters; it is only as regards material goods that it is effective. for this reason the men who believe in force are the men whose thoughts and desires are preoccupied with material goods. the possessive impulses, when they are strong, infect activities which ought to be purely creative. a man who has made some valuable discovery may be filled with jealousy of a rival discoverer. if one man has found a cure for cancer and another has found a cure for consumption, one of them may be delighted if the other man's discovery turns out a mistake, instead of regretting the suffering of patients which would otherwise have been avoided. in such cases, instead of desiring knowledge for its own sake, or for the sake of its usefulness, a man is desiring it as a means to reputation. every creative impulse is shadowed by a possessive impulse; even the aspirant to saintliness may be jealous of the more successful saint. most affection is accompanied by some tinge of jealousy, which is a possessive impulse intruding into the creative region. worst of all, in this direction, is the sheer envy of those who have missed everything worth having in life, and who are instinctively bent on preventing others from enjoying what they have not had. there is often much of this in the attitude of the old toward the young. there is in human beings, as in plants and animals, a certain natural impulse of growth, and this is just as true of mental as of physical development. physical development is helped by air and nourishment and exercise, and may be hindered by the sort of treatment which made chinese women's feet small. in just the same way mental development may be helped or hindered by outside influences. the outside influences that help are those that merely provide encouragement or mental food or opportunities for exercising mental faculties. the influences that hinder are those that interfere with growth by applying any kind of force, whether discipline or authority or fear or the tyranny of public opinion or the necessity of engaging in some totally incongenial occupation. worst of all influences are those that thwart or twist a man's fundamental impulse, which is what shows itself as conscience in the moral sphere; such influences are likely to do a man an inward danger from which he will never recover. those who realize the harm that can be done to others by any use of force against them, and the worthlessness of the goods that can be acquired by force, will be very full of respect for the liberty of others; they will not try to bind them or fetter them; they will be slow to judge and swift to sympathize; they will treat every human being with a kind of tenderness, because the principle of good in him is at once fragile and infinitely precious. they will not condemn those who are unlike themselves; they will know and feel that individuality brings differences and uniformity means death. they will wish each human being to be as much a living thing and as little a mechanical product as it is possible to be; they will cherish in each one just those things which the harsh usage of a ruthless world would destroy. in one word, all their dealings with others will be inspired by a deep impulse of _reverence_. what we shall desire for individuals is now clear: strong creative impulses, overpowering and absorbing the instinct of possession; reverence for others; respect for the fundamental creative impulse in ourselves. a certain kind of self-respect or native pride is necessary to a good life; a man must not have a sense of utter inward defeat if he is to remain whole, but must feel the courage and the hope and the will to live by the best that is in him, whatever outward or inward obstacles it may encounter. so far as it lies in a man's own power, his life will realize its best possibilities if it has three things: creative rather than possessive impulses, reverence for others, and respect for the fundamental impulse in himself. political and social institutions are to be judged by the good or harm that they do to individuals. do they encourage creativeness rather than possessiveness? do they embody or promote a spirit of reverence between human beings? do they preserve self-respect? in all these ways the institutions under which we live are very far indeed from what they ought to be. institutions, and especially economic systems, have a profound influence in molding the characters of men and women. they may encourage adventure and hope, or timidity and the pursuit of safety. they may open men's minds to great possibilities, or close them against everything but the risk of obscure misfortune. they may make a man's happiness depend upon what he adds to the general possessions of the world, or upon what he can secure for himself of the private goods in which others cannot share. modern capitalism forces the wrong decision of these alternatives upon all who are not heroic or exceptionally fortunate. men's impulses are molded, partly by their native disposition, partly by opportunity and environment, especially early environment. direct preaching can do very little to change impulses, though it can lead people to restrain the direct expression of them, often with the result that the impulses go underground and come to the surface again in some contorted form. when we have discovered what kinds of impulse we desire, we must not rest content with preaching, or with trying to produce the outward manifestation without the inner spring; we must try rather to alter institutions in the way that will, of itself, modify the life of impulse in the desired direction. at present our institutions rest upon two things: property and power. both of these are very unjustly distributed; both, in the actual world, are of great importance to the happiness of the individual. both are possessive goods; yet without them many of the goods in which all might share are hard to acquire as things are now. without property, as things are, a man has no freedom, and no security for the necessities of a tolerable life; without power, he has no opportunity for initiative. if men are to have free play for their creative impulses, they must be liberated from sordid cares by a certain measure of security, and they must have a sufficient share of power to be able to exercise initiative as regards the course and conditions of their lives. few men can succeed in being creative rather than possessive in a world which is wholly built on competition, where the great majority would fall into utter destitution if they became careless as to the acquisition of material goods, where honor and power and respect are given to wealth rather than to wisdom, where the law embodies and consecrates the injustice of those who have toward those who have not. in such an environment even those whom nature has endowed with great creative gifts become infected with the poison of competition. men combine in groups to attain more strength in the scramble for material goods, and loyalty to the group spreads a halo of quasi-idealism round the central impulse of greed. trade-unions and the labor party are no more exempt from this vice than other parties and other sections of society; though they are largely inspired by the hope of a radically better world. they are too often led astray by the immediate object of securing for themselves a large share of material goods. that this desire is in accordance with justice, it is impossible to deny; but something larger and more constructive is needed as a political ideal, if the victors of to-morrow are not to become the oppressors of the day after. the inspiration and outcome of a reforming movement ought to be freedom and a generous spirit, not niggling restrictions and regulations. the present economic system concentrates initiative in the hands of a small number of very rich men. those who are not capitalists have, almost always, very little choice as to their activities when once they have selected a trade or profession; they are not part of the power that moves the mechanism, but only a passive portion of the machinery. despite political democracy, there is still an extraordinary degree of difference in the power of self-direction belonging to a capitalist and to a man who has to earn his living. economic affairs touch men's lives, at most times, much more intimately than political questions. at present the man who has no capital usually has to sell himself to some large organization, such as a railway company, for example. he has no voice in its management, and no liberty in politics except what his trade-union can secure for him. if he happens to desire a form of liberty which is not thought important by his trade-union, he is powerless; he must submit or starve. exactly the same thing happens to professional men. probably a majority of journalists are engaged in writing for newspapers whose politics they disagree with; only a man of wealth can own a large newspaper, and only an accident can enable the point of view or the interests of those who are not wealthy to find expression in a newspaper. a large part of the best brains of the country are in the civil service, where the condition of their employment is silence about the evils which cannot be concealed from them. a nonconformist minister loses his livelihood if his views displease his congregation; a member of parliament loses his seat if he is not sufficiently supple or sufficiently stupid to follow or share all the turns and twists of public opinion. in every walk of life, independence of mind is punished by failure, more and more as economic organizations grow larger and more rigid. is it surprising that men become increasingly docile, increasingly ready to submit to dictation and to forego the right of thinking for themselves? yet along such lines civilization can only sink into a byzantine immobility. fear of destitution is not a motive out of which a free creative life can grow, yet it is the chief motive which inspires the daily work of most wage-earners. the hope of possessing more wealth and power than any man ought to have, which is the corresponding motive of the rich, is quite as bad in its effects; it compels men to close their minds against justice, and to prevent themselves from thinking honestly on social questions while in the depths of their hearts they uneasily feel that their pleasures are bought by the miseries of others. the injustices of destitution and wealth alike ought to be rendered impossible. then a great fear would be removed from the lives of the many, and hope would have to take on a better form in the lives of the few. but security and liberty are only the negative conditions for good political institutions. when they have been won, we need also the positive condition: encouragement of creative energy. security alone might produce a smug and stationary society; it demands creativeness as its counterpart, in order to keep alive the adventure and interest of life, and the movement toward perpetually new and better things. there can be no final goal for human institutions; the best are those that most encourage progress toward others still better. without effort and change, human life cannot remain good. it is not a finished utopia that we ought to desire, but a world where imagination and hope are alive and active. it is a sad evidence of the weariness mankind has suffered from excessive toil that his heavens have usually been places where nothing ever happened or changed. fatigue produces the illusion that only rest is needed for happiness; but when men have rested for a time, boredom drives them to renewed activity. for this reason, a happy life must be one in which there is activity. if it is also to be a useful life, the activity ought to be as far as possible creative, not merely predatory or defensive. but creative activity requires imagination and originality, which are apt to be subversive of the _status quo_. at present, those who have power dread a disturbance of the _status quo_, lest their unjust privileges should be taken away. in combination with the instinct for conventionality,[ ] which man shares with the other gregarious animals, those who profit by the existing order have established a system which punishes originality and starves imagination from the moment of first going to school down to the time of death and burial. the whole spirit in which education is conducted needs to be changed, in order that children may be encouraged to think and feel for themselves, not to acquiesce passively in the thoughts and feelings of others. it is not rewards after the event that will produce initiative, but a certain mental atmosphere. there have been times when such an atmosphere existed: the great days of greece, and elizabethan england, may serve as examples. but in our own day the tyranny of vast machine-like organizations, governed from above by men who know and care little for the lives of those whom they control, is killing individuality and freedom of mind, and forcing men more and more to conform to a uniform pattern. [ ] in england this is called "a sense of humor." vast organizations are an inevitable element in modern life, and it is useless to aim at their abolition, as has been done by some reformers, for instance, william morris. it is true that they make the preservation of individuality more difficult, but what is needed is a way of combining them with the greatest possible scope for individual initiative. one very important step toward this end would be to render democratic the government of every organization. at present, our legislative institutions are more or less democratic, except for the important fact that women are excluded. but our administration is still purely bureaucratic, and our economic organizations are monarchical or oligarchic. every limited liability company is run by a small number of self-appointed or coöpted directors. there can be no real freedom or democracy until the men who do the work in a business also control its management. another measure which would do much to increase liberty would be an increase of self-government for subordinate groups, whether geographical or economic or defined by some common belief, like religious sects. a modern state is so vast and its machinery is so little understood that even when a man has a vote he does not feel himself any effective part of the force which determines its policy. except in matters where he can act in conjunction with an exceptionally powerful group, he feels himself almost impotent, and the government remains a remote impersonal circumstance, which must be simply endured, like the weather. by a share in the control of smaller bodies, a man might regain some of that sense of personal opportunity and responsibility which belonged to the citizen of a city-state in ancient greece or medieval italy. when any group of men has a strong corporate consciousness--such as belongs, for example, to a nation or a trade or a religious body--liberty demands that it should be free to decide for itself all matters which are of great importance to the outside world. this is the basis of the universal claim for national independence. but nations are by no means the only groups which ought to have self-government for their internal concerns. and nations, like other groups, ought not to have complete liberty of action in matters which are of equal concern to foreign nations. liberty demands self-government, but not the right to interfere with others. the greatest degree of liberty is not secured by anarchy. the reconciliation of liberty with government is a difficult problem, but it is one which any political theory must face. the essence of government is the use of force in accordance with law to secure certain ends which the holders of power consider desirable. the coercion of an individual or a group by force is always in itself more or less harmful. but if there were no government, the result would not be an absence of force in men's relations to each other; it would merely be the exercise of force by those who had strong predatory instincts, necessitating either slavery or a perpetual readiness to repel force with force on the part of those whose instincts were less violent. this is the state of affairs at present in international relations, owing to the fact that no international government exists. the results of anarchy between states should suffice to persuade us that anarchism has no solution to offer for the evils of the world. there is probably one purpose, and only one, for which the use of force by a government is beneficent, and that is to diminish the total amount of force used m the world. it is clear, for example, that the legal prohibition of murder diminishes the total amount of violence in the world. and no one would maintain that parents should have unlimited freedom to ill-treat their children. so long as some men wish to do violence to others, there cannot be complete liberty, for either the wish to do violence must be restrained, or the victims must be left to suffer. for this reason, although individuals and societies should have the utmost freedom as regards their own affairs, they ought not to have complete freedom as regards their dealings with others. to give freedom to the strong to oppress the weak is not the way to secure the greatest possible amount of freedom in the world. this is the basis of the socialist revolt against the kind of freedom which used to be advocated by _laissez-faire_ economists. democracy is a device--the best so far invented--for diminishing as much as possible the interference of governments with liberty. if a nation is divided into two sections which cannot both have their way, democracy theoretically insures that the majority shall have their way. but democracy is not at all an adequate device unless it is accompanied by a very great amount of devolution. love of uniformity, or the mere pleasure of interfering, or dislike of differing tastes and temperaments, may often lead a majority to control a minority in matters which do not really concern the majority. we should none of us like to have the internal affairs of great britain settled by a parliament of the world, if ever such a body came into existence. nevertheless, there are matters which such a body could settle much better than any existing instrument of government. the theory of the legitimate use of force in human affairs, where a government exists, seems clear. force should only be used against those who attempt to use force against others, or against those who will not respect the law in cases where a common decision is necessary and a minority are opposed to the action of the majority. these seem legitimate occasions for the use of force; and they should be legitimate occasions in international affairs, if an international government existed. the problem of the legitimate occasions for the use of force in the absence of a government is a different one, with which we are not at present concerned. although a government must have the power to use force, and may on occasion use it legitimately, the aim of the reformers to have such institutions as will diminish the need for actual coercion will be found to have this effect. most of us abstain, for instance, from theft, not because it is illegal, but because we feel no desire to steal. the more men learn to live creatively rather than possessively, the less their wishes will lead them to thwart others or to attempt violent interference with their liberty. most of the conflicts of interests, which lead individuals or organizations into disputes, are purely imaginary, and would be seen to be so if men aimed more at the goods in which all can share, and less at those private possessions that are the source of strife. in proportion as men live creatively, they cease to wish to interfere with others by force. very many matters in which, at present, common action is thought indispensable, might well be left to individual decision. it used to be thought absolutely necessary that all the inhabitants of a country should have the same religion, but we now know that there is no such necessity. in like manner it will be found, as men grow more tolerant in their instincts, that many uniformities now insisted upon are useless and even harmful. good political institutions would weaken the impulse toward force and domination in two ways: first, by increasing the opportunities for the creative impulses, and by shaping education so as to strengthen these impulses; secondly, by diminishing the outlets for the possessive instincts. the diffusion of power, both in the political and the economic sphere, instead of its concentration in the hands of officials and captains of industry, would greatly diminish the opportunities for acquiring the habit of command, out of which the desire for exercising tyranny is apt to spring. autonomy, both for districts and for organizations, would leave fewer occasions when governments were called upon to make decisions as to other people's concerns. and the abolition of capitalism and the wage system would remove the chief incentive to fear and greed, those correlative passions by which all free life is choked and gagged. few men seem to realize how many of the evils from which we suffer are wholly unnecessary, and that they could be abolished by a united effort within a few years. if a majority in every civilized country so desired, we could, within twenty years, abolish all abject poverty, quite half the illness in the world, the whole economic slavery which binds down nine tenths of our population; we could fill the world with beauty and joy, and secure the reign of universal peace. it is only because men are apathetic that this is not achieved, only because imagination is sluggish, and what always has been is regarded as what always must be. with good-will, generosity, intelligence, these things could be brought about. chapter ii: capitalism and the wage system i the world is full of preventible evils which most men would be glad to see prevented. nevertheless, these evils persist, and nothing effective is done toward abolishing them. this paradox produces astonishment in inexperienced reformers, and too often produces disillusionment in those who have come to know the difficulty of changing human institutions. war is recognized as an evil by an immense majority in every civilized country; but this recognition does not prevent war. the unjust distribution of wealth must be obviously an evil to those who are not prosperous, and they are nine tenths of the population. nevertheless it continues unabated. the tyranny of the holders of power is a source of needless suffering and misfortune to very large sections of mankind; but power remains in few hands, and tends, if anything, to grow more concentrated. i wish first to study the evils of our present institutions, and the causes of the very limited success of reformers in the past, and then to suggest reasons for the hope of a more lasting and permanent success in the near future. the war has come as a challenge to all who desire a better world. the system which cannot save mankind from such an appalling disaster is at fault somewhere, and cannot be amended in any lasting way unless the danger of great wars in the future can be made very small. but war is only the final flower of an evil tree. even in times of peace, most men live lives of monotonous labor, most women are condemned to a drudgery which almost kills the possibility of happiness before youth is past, most children are allowed to grow up in ignorance of all that would enlarge their thoughts or stimulate their imagination. the few who are more fortunate are rendered illiberal by their unjust privileges, and oppressive through fear of the awakening indignation of the masses. from the highest to the lowest, almost all men are absorbed in the economic struggle: the struggle to acquire what is their due or to retain what is not their due. material possessions, in fact or in desire, dominate our outlook, usually to the exclusion of all generous and creative impulses. possessiveness--the passion to have and to hold--is the ultimate source of war, and the foundation of all the ills from which the political world is suffering. only by diminishing the strength of this passion and its hold upon our daily lives can new institutions bring permanent benefit to mankind. institutions which will diminish the sway of greed are possible, but only through a complete reconstruction of our whole economic system. capitalism and the wage system must be abolished; they are twin monsters which are eating up the life of the world. in place of them we need a system which will hold in cheek men's predatory impulses, and will diminish the economic injustice that allows some to be rich in idleness while others are poor in spite of unremitting labor; but above all we need a system which will destroy the tyranny of the employer, by making men at the same time secure against destitution and able to find scope for individual initiative in the control of the industry by which they live. a better system can do all these things, and can be established by the democracy whenever it grows weary of enduring evils which there is no reason to endure. we may distinguish four purposes at which an economic system may aim: first, it may aim at the greatest possible production of goods and at facilitating technical progress; second, it may aim at securing distributive justice; third, it may aim at giving security against destitution; and, fourth, it may aim at liberating creative impulses and diminishing possessive impulses. of these four purposes the last is the most important. security is chiefly important as a means to it. state socialism, though it might give material security and more justice than we have at present, would probably fail to liberate creative impulses or produce a progressive society. our present system fails in all four purposes. it is chiefly defended on the ground that it achieves the first of the four purposes, namely, the greatest possible production of material goods, but it only does this in a very short-sighted way, by methods which are wasteful in the long run both of human material and of natural resources. capitalistic enterprise involves a ruthless belief in the importance of increasing material production to the utmost possible extent now and in the immediate future. in obedience to this belief, new portions of the earth's surface are continually brought under the sway of industrialism. vast tracts of africa become recruiting grounds for the labor required in the gold and diamond mines of the rand, rhodesia, and kimberley; for this purpose, the population is demoralized, taxed, driven into revolt, and exposed to the contamination of european vice and disease. healthy and vigorous races from southern europe are tempted to america, where sweating and slum life reduce their vitality if they do not actually cause their death. what damage is done to our own urban populations by the conditions under which they live, we all know. and what is true of the human riches of the world is no less true of the physical resources. the mines, forests, and wheat-fields of the world are all being exploited at a rate which must practically exhaust them at no distant date. on the side of material production, the world is living too fast; in a kind of delirium, almost all the energy of the world has rushed into the immediate production of something, no matter what, and no matter at what cost. and yet our present system is defended on the ground that it safeguards progress! it cannot be said that our present economic system is any more successful in regard to the other three objects which ought to be aimed at. among the many obvious evils of capitalism and the wage system, none are more glaring than that they encourage predatory instincts, that they allow economic injustice, and that they give great scope to the tyranny of the employer. as to predatory instincts, we may say, broadly speaking, that in a state of nature there would be two ways of acquiring riches--one by production, the other by robbery. under our existing system, although what is recognized as robbery is forbidden, there are nevertheless many ways of becoming rich without contributing anything to the wealth of the community. ownership of land or capital, whether acquired or inherited, gives a legal right to a permanent income. although most people have to produce in order to live, a privileged minority are able to live in luxury without producing anything at all. as these are the men who are not only the most fortunate but also the most respected, there is a general desire to enter their ranks, and a widespread unwillingness to face the fact that there is no justification whatever for incomes derived in this way. and apart from the passive enjoyment of rent or interest, the methods of acquiring wealth are very largely predatory. it is not, as a rule, by means of useful inventions, or of any other action which increases the general wealth of the community, that men amass fortunes; it is much more often by skill in exploiting or circumventing others. nor is it only among the rich that our present régime promotes a narrowly acquisitive spirit. the constant risk of destitution compels most men to fill a great part of their time and thought with the economic struggle. there is a theory that this increases the total output of wealth by the community. but for reasons to which i shall return later, i believe this theory to be wholly mistaken. economic injustice is perhaps the most obvious evil of our present system. it would be utterly absurd to maintain that the men who inherit great wealth deserve better of the community than those who have to work for their living. i am not prepared to maintain that economic justice requires an exactly equal income for everybody. some kinds of work require a larger income for efficiency than others do; but there is economic injustice as soon as a man has more than his share, unless it is because his efficiency in his work requires it, or as a reward for some definite service. but this point is so obvious that it needs no elaboration. the modern growth of monopolies in the shape of trusts, cartels, federations of employers and so on has greatly increased the power of the capitalist to levy toll on the community. this tendency will not cease of itself, but only through definite action on the part of those who do not profit by the capitalist régime. unfortunately the distinction between the proletariat and the capitalist is not so sharp as it was in the minds of socialist theorizers. trade-unions have funds in various securities; friendly societies are large capitalists; and many individuals eke out their wages by invested savings. all this increases the difficulty of any clear-cut radical change in our economic system. but it does not diminish the desirability of such a change. such a system as that suggested by the french syndicalists, in which each trade would be self-governing and completely independent, without the control of any central authority, would not secure economic justice. some trades are in a much stronger bargaining position than others. coal and transport, for example, could paralyze the national life, and could levy blackmail by threatening to do so. on the other hand, such people as school teachers, for example, could rouse very little terror by the threat of a strike and would be in a very weak bargaining position. justice can never be secured by any system of unrestrained force exercised by interested parties in their own interests. for this reason the abolition of the state, which the syndicalists seem to desire, would be a measure not compatible with economic justice. the tyranny of the employer, which at present robs the greater part of most men's lives of all liberty and all initiative, is unavoidable so long as the employer retains the right of dismissal with consequent loss of pay. this right is supposed to be essential in order that men may have an incentive to work thoroughly. but as men grow more civilized, incentives based on hope become increasingly preferable to those that are based on fear. it would be far better that men should be rewarded for working well than that they should be punished for working badly. this system is already in operation in the civil service, where a man is only dismissed for some exceptional degree of vice or virtue, such as murder or illegal abstention from it. sufficient pay to ensure a livelihood ought to be given to every person who is willing to work, independently of the question whether the particular work at which he is skilled is wanted at the moment or not. if it is not wanted, some new trade which is wanted ought to be taught at the public expense. why, for example, should a hansom-cab driver be allowed to suffer on account of the introduction of taxies? he has not committed any crime, and the fact that his work is no longer wanted is due to causes entirely outside his control. instead of being allowed to starve, he ought to be given instruction in motor driving or in whatever other trade may seem most suitable. at present, owing to the fact that all industrial changes tend to cause hardships to some section of wage-earners, there is a tendency to technical conservatism on the part of labor, a dislike of innovations, new processes, and new methods. but such changes, if they are in the permanent interest of the community, ought to be carried out without allowing them to bring unmerited loss to those sections of the community whose labor is no longer wanted in the old form. the instinctive conservatism of mankind is sure to make all processes of production change more slowly than they should. it is a pity to add to this by the avoidable conservatism which is forced upon organized labor at present through the unjust workings of a change. it will be said that men will not work well if the fear of dismissal does not spur them on. i think it is only a small percentage of whom this would be true at present. and those of whom it would be true might easily become industrious if they were given more congenial work or a wiser training. the residue who cannot be coaxed into industry by any such methods are probably to be regarded as pathological cases, requiring medical rather than penal treatment. and against this residue must be set the very much larger number who are now ruined in health or in morale by the terrible uncertainty of their livelihood and the great irregularity of their employment. to very many, security would bring a quite new possibility of physical and moral health. the most dangerous aspect of the tyranny of the employer is the power which it gives him of interfering with men's activities outside their working hours. a man may be dismissed because the employer dislikes his religion or his politics, or chooses to think his private life immoral. he may be dismissed because he tries to produce a spirit of independence among his fellow employees. he may fail completely to find employment merely on the ground that he is better educated than most and therefore more dangerous. such cases actually occur at present. this evil would not be remedied, but rather intensified, under state socialism, because, where the state is the only employer, there is no refuge from its prejudices such as may now accidentally arise through the differing opinions of different men. the state would be able to enforce any system of beliefs it happened to like, and it is almost certain that it would do so. freedom of thought would be penalized, and all independence of spirit would die out. any rigid system would involve this evil. it is very necessary that there should be diversity and lack of complete systematization. minorities must be able to live and develop their opinions freely. if this is not secured, the instinct of persecution and conformity will force all men into one mold and make all vital progress impossible. for these reasons, no one ought to be allowed to suffer destitution so long as he or she is _willing_ to work. and no kind of inquiry ought to be made into opinion or private life. it is only on this basis that it is possible to build up an economic system not founded upon tyranny and terror. ii the power of the economic reformer is limited by the technical productivity of labor. so long as it was necessary to the bare subsistence of the human race that most men should work very long hours for a pittance, so long no civilization was possible except an aristocratic one; if there were to be men with sufficient leisure for any mental life, there had to be others who were sacrificed for the good of the few. but the time when such a system was necessary has passed away with the progress of machinery. it would be possible now, if we had a wise economic system, for all who have mental needs to find satisfaction for them. by a few hours a day of manual work, a man can produce as much as is necessary for his own subsistence; and if he is willing to forgo luxuries, that is all that the community has a right to demand of him. it ought to be open to all who so desire to do short hours of work for little pay, and devote their leisure to whatever pursuit happens to attract them. no doubt the great majority of those who chose this course would spend their time in mere amusement, as most of the rich do at present. but it could not be said, in such a society, that they were parasites upon the labor of others. and there would be a minority who would give their hours of nominal idleness to science or art or literature, or some other pursuit out of which fundamental progress may come. in all such matters, organization and system can only do harm. the one thing that can be done is to provide opportunity, without repining at the waste that results from most men failing to make good use of the opportunity. but except in cases of unusual laziness or eccentric ambition, most men would elect to do a full day's work for a full day's pay. for these, who would form the immense majority, the important thing is that ordinary work should, as far as possible, afford interest and independence and scope for initiative. these things are more important than income, as soon as a certain minimum has been reached. they can be secured by gild socialism, by industrial self-government subject to state control as regards the relations of a trade to the rest of the community. so far as i know, they cannot be secured in any other way. guild socialism, as advocated by mr. orage and the "new age," is associated with a polemic against "political" action, and in favor of direct economic action by trade-unions. it shares this with syndicalism, from which most of what is new in it is derived. but i see no reason for this attitude; political and economic action seem to me equally necessary, each in its own time and place. i think there is danger in the attempt to use the machinery of the present capitalist state for socialistic purposes. but there is need of political action to transform the machinery of the state, side by side with the transformation which we hope to see in economic institutions. in this country, neither transformation is likely to be brought about by a sudden revolution; we must expect each to come step by step, if at all, and i doubt if either could or should advance very far without the other. the economic system we should ultimately wish to see would be one in which the state would be the sole recipient of economic rent, while private capitalistic enterprises should be replaced by self-governing combinations of those who actually do the work. it ought to be optional whether a man does a whole day's work for a whole day's pay, or half a day's work for half a day's pay, except in cases where such an arrangement would cause practical inconvenience. a man's pay should not cease through the accident of his work being no longer needed, but should continue so long as he is willing to work, a new trade being taught him at the public expense, if necessary. unwillingness to work should be treated medically or educationally, when it could not be overcome by a change to some more congenial occupation. the workers in a given industry should all be combined in one autonomous unit, and their work should not be subject to any outside control. the state should fix the price at which they produce, but should leave the industry self-governing in all other respects. in fixing prices, the state should, as far as possible, allow each industry to profit by any improvements which it might introduce into its own processes, but should endeavor to prevent undeserved loss or gain through changes in external economic conditions. in this way there would be every incentive to progress, with the least possible danger of unmerited destitution. and although large economic organizations will continue, as they are bound to do, there will be a diffusion of power which will take away the sense of individual impotence from which men and women suffer at present. iii some men, though they may admit that such a system would be desirable, will argue that it is impossible to bring it about, and that therefore we must concentrate on more immediate objects. i think it must be conceded that a political party ought to have proximate aims, measures which it hopes to carry in the next session or the next parliament, as well as a more distant goal. marxian socialism, as it existed in germany, seemed to me to suffer in this way: although the party was numerically powerful, it was politically weak, because it had no minor measures to demand while waiting for the revolution. and when, at last, german socialism was captured by those who desired a less impracticable policy, the modification which occurred was of exactly the wrong kind: acquiescence in bad policies, such as militarism and imperialism, rather than advocacy of partial reforms which, however inadequate, would still have been steps in the right direction. a similar defect was inherent in the policy of french syndicalism as it existed before the war. everything was to wait for the general strike; after adequate preparation, one day the whole proletariat would unanimously refuse to work, the property owners would acknowledge their defeat, and agree to abandon all their privileges rather than starve. this is a dramatic conception; but love of drama is a great enemy of true vision. men cannot be trained, except under very rare circumstances, to do something suddenly which is very different from what they have been doing before. if the general strike were to succeed, the victors, despite their anarchism, would be compelled at once to form an administration, to create a new police force to prevent looting and wanton destruction, to establish a provisional government issuing dictatorial orders to the various sections of revolutionaries. now the syndicalists are opposed in principle to all political action; they would feel that they were departing from their theory in taking the necessary practical steps, and they would be without the required training because of their previous abstention from politics. for these reasons it is likely that, even after a syndicalist revolution, actual power would fall into the hands of men who were not really syndicalists. another objection to a program which is to be realized suddenly at some remote date by a revolution or a general strike is that enthusiasm flags when there is nothing to do meanwhile, and no partial success to lessen the weariness of waiting. the only sort of movement which can succeed by such methods is one where the sentiment and the program are both very simple, as is the case in rebellions of oppressed nations. but the line of demarcation between capitalist and wage-earner is not sharp, like the line between turk and armenian, or between an englishman and a native of india. those who have advocated the social revolution have been mistaken in their political methods, chiefly because they have not realized how many people there are in the community whose sympathies and interests lie half on the side of capital, half on the side of labor. these people make a clear-cut revolutionary policy very difficult. for these reasons, those who aim at an economic reconstruction which is not likely to be completed to-morrow must, if they are to have any hope of success, be able to approach their goal by degrees, through measures which are of some use in themselves, even if they should not ultimately lead to the desired end. there must be activities which train men for those that they are ultimately to carry out, and there must be possible achievements in the near future, not only a vague hope of a distant paradise. but although i believe that all this is true, i believe no less firmly that really vital and radical reform requires some vision beyond the immediate future, some realization of what human beings might make of human life if they chose. without some such hope, men will not have the energy and enthusiasm necessary to overcome opposition, or the steadfastness to persist when their aims are for the moment unpopular. every man who has really sincere desire for any great amelioration in the conditions of life has first to face ridicule, then persecution, then cajolery and attempts at subtle corruption. we know from painful experience how few pass unscathed through these three ordeals. the last especially, when the reformer is shown all the kingdoms of the earth, is difficult, indeed almost impossible, except for those who have made their ultimate goal vivid to themselves by clear and definite thought. economic systems are concerned essentially with the production and distribution of material goods. our present system is wasteful on the production side, and unjust on the side of distribution. it involves a life of slavery to economic forces for the great majority of the community, and for the minority a degree of power over the lives of others which no man ought to have. in a good community the production of the necessaries of existence would be a mere preliminary to the important and interesting part of life, except for those who find a pleasure in some part of the work of producing necessaries. it is not in the least necessary that economic needs should dominate man as they do at present. this is rendered necessary at present, partly by the inequalities of wealth, partly by the fact that things of real value, such as a good education, are difficult to acquire, except for the well-to-do. private ownership of land and capital is not defensible on grounds of justice, or on the ground that it is an economical way of producing what the community needs. but the chief objections to it are that it stunts the lives of men and women, that it enshrines a ruthless possessiveness in all the respect which is given to success, that it leads men to fill the greater part of their time and thought with the acquisition of purely material goods, and that it affords a terrible obstacle to the advancement of civilization and creative energy. the approach to a system free from these evils need not be sudden; it is perfectly possible to proceed step by step towards economic freedom and industrial self-government. it is not true that there is any outward difficulty in creating the kind of institutions that we have been considering. if organized labor wishes to create them, nothing could stand in its way. the difficulty involved is merely the difficulty of inspiring men with hope, of giving them enough imagination to see that the evils from which they suffer are unnecessary, and enough thought to understand how the evils are to be cured. this is a difficulty which can be overcome by time and energy. but it will not be overcome if the leaders of organized labor have no breadth of outlook, no vision, no hopes beyond some slight superficial improvement within the framework of the existing system. revolutionary action may be unnecessary, but revolutionary thought is indispensable, and, as the outcome of thought, a rational and constructive hope. chapter iii: pitfalls in socialism i in its early days, socialism was a revolutionary movement of which the object was the liberation of the wage-earning classes and the establishment of freedom and justice. the passage from capitalism to the new régime was to be sudden and violent: capitalists were to be expropriated without compensation, and their power was not to be replaced by any new authority. gradually a change came over the spirit of socialism. in france, socialists became members of the government, and made and unmade parliamentary majorities. in germany, social democracy grew so strong that it became impossible for it to resist the temptation to barter away some of its intransigeance in return for government recognition of its claims. in england, the fabians taught the advantage of reform as against revolution, and of conciliatory bargaining as against irreconcilable antagonism. the method of gradual reform has many merits as compared to the method of revolution, and i have no wish to preach revolution. but gradual reform has certain dangers, to wit, the ownership or control of businesses hitherto in private hands, and by encouraging legislative interference for the benefit of various sections of the wage-earning classes. i think it is at least doubtful whether such measures do anything at all to contribute toward the ideals which inspired the early socialists and still inspire the great majority of those who advocate some form of socialism. let us take as an illustration such a measure as state purchase of railways. this is a typical object of state socialism, thoroughly practicable, already achieved in many countries, and clearly the sort of step that must be taken in any piecemeal approach to complete collectivism. yet i see no reason to believe that any real advance toward democracy, freedom, or economic justice is achieved when a state takes over the railways after full compensation to the shareholders. economic justice demands a diminution, if not a total abolition, of the proportion of the national income which goes to the recipients of rent and interest. but when the holders of railway shares are given government stock to replace their shares, they are given the prospect of an income in perpetuity equal to what they might reasonably expect to have derived from their shares. unless there is reason to expect a great increase in the earnings of railways, the whole operation does nothing to alter the distribution of wealth. this could only be effected if the present owners were expropriated, or paid less than the market value, or given a mere life-interest as compensation. when full value is given, economic justice is not advanced in any degree. there is equally little advance toward freedom. the men employed on the railway have no more voice than they had before in the management of the railway, or in the wages and conditions of work. instead of having to fight the directors, with the possibility of an appeal to the government, they now have to fight the government directly; and experience does not lead to the view that a government department has any special tenderness toward the claims of labor. if they strike, they have to contend against the whole organized power of the state, which they can only do successfully if they happen to have a strong public opinion on their side. in view of the influence which the state can always exercise on the press, public opinion is likely to be biased against them, particularly when a nominally progressive government is in power. there will no longer be the possibility of divergences between the policies of different railways. railway men in england derived advantages for many years from the comparatively liberal policy of the north eastern railway, which they were able to use as an argument for a similar policy elsewhere. such possibilities are excluded by the dead uniformity of state administration. and there is no real advance toward democracy. the administration of the railways will be in the hands of officials whose bias and associations separate them from labor, and who will develop an autocratic temper through the habit of power. the democratic machinery by which these officials are nominally controlled is cumbrous and remote, and can only be brought into operation on first-class issues which rouse the interest of the whole nation. even then it is very likely that the superior education of the officials and the government, combined with the advantages of their position, will enable them to mislead the public as to the issues, and alienate the general sympathy even from the most excellent cause. i do not deny that these evils exist at present; i say only that they will not be remedied by such measures as the nationalization of railways in the present economic and political environment. a greater upheaval, and a greater change in men's habits of mind, is necessary for any really vital progress. ii state socialism, even in a nation which possesses the form of political democracy, is not a truly democratic system. the way in which it fails to be democratic may be made plain by an analogy from the political sphere. every democrat recognizes that the irish ought to have self-government for irish affairs, and ought not to be told that they have no grievance because they share in the parliament of the united kingdom. it is essential to democracy that any group of citizens whose interests or desires separate them at all widely from the rest of the community should be free to decide their internal affairs for themselves. and what is true of national or local groups is equally true of economic groups, such as miners or railway men. the national machinery of general elections is by no means sufficient to secure for groups of this kind the freedom which they ought to have. the power of officials, which is a great and growing danger in the modern state, arises from the fact that the majority of the voters, who constitute the only ultimate popular control over officials, are as a rule not interested in any one particular question, and are therefore not likely to interfere effectively against an official who is thwarting the wishes of the minority who are interested. the official is nominally subject to indirect popular control, but not to the control of those who are directly affected by his action. the bulk of the public will either never hear about the matter in dispute, or, if they do hear, will form a hasty opinion based upon inadequate information, which is far more likely to come from the side of the officials than from the section of the community which is affected by the question at issue. in an important political issue, some degree of knowledge is likely to be diffused in time; but in other matters there is little hope that this will happen. it may be said that the power of officials is much less dangerous than the power of capitalists, because officials have no economic interests that are opposed to those of wage-earners. but this argument involves far too simple a theory of political human nature--a theory which orthodox socialism adopted from the classical political economy, and has tended to retain in spite of growing evidence of its falsity. economic self-interest, and even economic class-interest, is by no means the only important political motive. officials, whose salary is generally quite unaffected by their decisions on particular questions, are likely, if they are of average honesty, to decide according to their view of the public interest; but their view will none the less have a bias which will often lead them wrong. it is important to understand this bias before entrusting our destinies too unreservedly to government departments. the first thing to observe is that, in any very large organization, and above all in a great state, officials and legislators are usually very remote from those whom they govern, and not imaginatively acquainted with the conditions of life to which their decisions will be applied. this makes them ignorant of much that they ought to know, even when they are industrious and willing to learn whatever can be taught by statistics and blue-books. the one thing they understand intimately is the office routine and the administrative rules. the result is an undue anxiety to secure a uniform system. i have heard of a french minister of education taking out his watch, and remarking, "at this moment all the children of such and such an age in france are learning so and so." this is the ideal of the administrator, an ideal utterly fatal to free growth, initiative, experiment, or any far reaching innovation. laziness is not one of the motives recognized in textbooks on political theory, because all ordinary knowledge of human nature is considered unworthy of the dignity of these works; yet we all know that laziness is an immensely powerful motive with all but a small minority of mankind. unfortunately, in this case laziness is reinforced by love of power, which leads energetic officials to create the systems which lazy officials like to administer. the energetic official inevitably dislikes anything that he does not control. his official sanction must be obtained before anything can be done. whatever he finds in existence he wishes to alter in some way, so as to have the satisfaction of feeling his power and making it felt. if he is conscientious, he will think out some perfectly uniform and rigid scheme which he believes to be the best possible, and he will then impose this scheme ruthlessly, whatever promising growths he may have to lop down for the sake of symmetry. the result inevitably has something of the deadly dullness of a new rectangular town, as compared with the beauty and richness of an ancient city which has lived and grown with the separate lives and individualities of many generations. what has grown is always more living than what has been decreed; but the energetic official will always prefer the tidiness of what he has decreed to the apparent disorder of spontaneous growth. the mere possession of power tends to produce a love of power, which is a very dangerous motive, because the only sure proof of power consists in preventing others from doing what they wish to do. the essential theory of democracy is the diffusion of power among the whole people, so that the evils produced by one man's possession of great power shall be obviated. but the diffusion of power through democracy is only effective when the voters take an interest in the question involved. when the question does not interest them, they do not attempt to control the administration, and all actual power passes into the hands of officials. for this reason, the true ends of democracy are not achieved by state socialism or by any system which places great power in the hands of men subject to no popular control except that which is more or less indirectly exercised through parliament. any fresh survey of men's political actions shows that, in those who have enough energy to be politically effective, love of power is a stronger motive than economic self-interest. love of power actuates the great millionaires, who have far more money than they can spend, but continue to amass wealth merely in order to control more and more of the world's finance.[ ] love of power is obviously the ruling motive of many politicians. it is also the chief cause of wars, which are admittedly almost always a bad speculation from the mere point of view of wealth. for this reason, a new economic system which merely attacks economic motives and does not interfere with the concentration of power is not likely to effect any very great improvement in the world. this is one of the chief reasons for regarding state socialism with suspicion. [ ] cf. j. a. hobson, "the evolution of modern capitalism." iii the problem of the distribution of power is a more difficult one than the problem of the distribution of wealth. the machinery of representative government has concentrated on _ultimate_ power as the only important matter, and has ignored immediate executive power. almost nothing has been done to democratize administration. government officials, in virtue of their income, security, and social position, are likely to be on the side of the rich, who have been their daily associates ever since the time of school and college. and whether or not they are on the side of the rich, they are not likely, for the reasons we have been considering, to be genuinely in favor of progress. what applies to government officials applies also to members of parliament, with the sole difference that they have had to recommend themselves to a constituency. this, however, only adds hypocrisy to the other qualities of a ruling caste. whoever has stood in the lobby of the house of commons watching members emerge with wandering eye and hypothetical smile, until the constituent is espied, his arm taken, "my dear fellow" whispered in his ear, and his steps guided toward the inner precincts--whoever, observing this, has realized that these are the arts by which men become and remain legislators, can hardly fail to feel that democracy as it exists is not an absolutely perfect instrument of government. it is a painful fact that the ordinary voter, at any rate in england, is quite blind to insincerity. the man who does not care about any definite political measures can generally be won by corruption or flattery, open or concealed; the man who is set on securing reforms will generally prefer an ambitious windbag to a man who desires the public good without possessing a ready tongue. and the ambitious windbag, as soon as he has become a power by the enthusiasm he has aroused, will sell his influence to the governing clique, sometimes openly, sometimes by the more subtle method of intentionally failing at a crisis. this is part of the normal working of democracy as embodied in representative institutions. yet a cure must be found if democracy is not to remain a farce. one of the sources of evil in modern large democracies is the fact that most of the electorate have no direct or vital interest in most of the questions that arise. should welsh children be allowed the use of the welsh language in schools? should gipsies be compelled to abandon their nomadic life at the bidding of the education authorities? should miners have an eight-hour day? should christian scientists be compelled to call in doctors in case of serious illness? these are matters of passionate interest to certain sections of the community, but of very little interest to the great majority. if they are decided according to the wishes of the numerical majority, the intense desires of a minority will be overborne by the very slight and uninformed whims of the indifferent remainder. if the minority are geographically concentrated, so that they can decide elections in a certain number of constituencies, like the welsh and the miners, they have a good chance of getting their way, by the wholly beneficent process which its enemies describe as log-rolling. but if they are scattered and politically feeble, like the gipsies and the christian scientists, they stand a very poor chance against the prejudices of the majority. even when they are geographically concentrated, like the irish, they may fail to obtain their wishes, because they arouse some hostility or some instinct of domination in the majority. such a state of affairs is the negation of all democratic principles. the tyranny of the majority is a very real danger. it is a mistake to suppose that the majority is necessarily right. on every new question the majority is always wrong at first. in matters where the state must act as a whole, such as tariffs, for example, decision by majorities is probably the best method that can be devised. but there are a great many questions in which there is no need of a uniform decision. religion is recognized as one of these. education ought to be one, provided a certain minimum standard is attained. military service clearly ought to be one. wherever divergent action by different groups is possible without anarchy, it ought to be permitted. in such cases it will be found by those who consider past history that, whenever any new fundamental issue arises, the majority are in the wrong, because they are guided by prejudice and habit. progress comes through the gradual effect of a minority in converting opinion and altering custom. at one time--not so very long ago--it was considered monstrous wickedness to maintain that old women ought not to be burnt as witches. if those who held this opinion had been forcibly suppressed, we should still be steeped in medieval superstition. for such reasons, it is of the utmost importance that the majority should refrain from imposing its will as regards matters in which uniformity is not absolutely necessary. iv the cure for the evils and dangers which we have been considering is a very great extension of devolution and federal government. wherever there is a national consciousness, as in wales and ireland, the area in which it exists ought to be allowed to decide all purely local affairs without external interference. but there are many matters which ought to be left to the management, not of local groups, but of trade groups, or of organizations embodying some set of opinions. in the east, men are subject to different laws according to the religion they profess. something of this kind is necessary if any semblance of liberty is to exist where there is great divergence in beliefs. some matters are essentially geographical; for instance, gas and water, roads, tariffs, armies and navies. these must be decided by an authority representing an area. how large the area ought to be, depends upon accidents of topography and sentiment, and also upon the nature of the matter involved. gas and water require a small area, roads a somewhat larger one, while the only satisfactory area for an army or a navy is the whole planet, since no smaller area will prevent war. but the proper unit in most economic questions, and also in most questions that are intimately concerned with personal opinions, is not geographical at all. the internal management of railways ought not to be in the hands of the geographical state, for reasons which we have already considered. still less ought it to be in the hands of a set of irresponsible capitalists. the only truly democratic system would be one which left the internal management of railways in the hands of the men who work on them. these men should elect the general manager, and a parliament of directors if necessary. all questions of wages, conditions of labor, running of trains, and acquisition of material, should be in the hands of a body responsible only to those actually engaged in the work of the railway. the same arguments apply to other large trades: mining, iron and steel, cotton, and so on. british trade-unionism, it seems to me, has erred in conceiving labor and capital as both permanent forces, which were to be brought to some equality of strength by the organization of labor. this seems to me too modest an ideal. the ideal which i should wish to substitute involves the conquest of democracy and self-government in the economic sphere as in the political sphere, and the total abolition of the power now wielded by the capitalist. the man who works on a railway ought to have a voice in the government of the railway, just as much as the man who works in a state has a right to a voice in the management of his state. the concentration of business initiative in the hands of the employers is a great evil, and robs the employees of their legitimate share of interest in the larger problems of their trade. french syndicalists were the first to advocate the system of trade autonomy as a better solution than state socialism. but in their view the trades were to be independent, almost like sovereign states at present. such a system would not promote peace, any more than it does at present in international relations. in the affairs of any body of men, we may broadly distinguish what may be called questions of home politics from questions of foreign politics. every group sufficiently well-marked to constitute a political entity ought to be autonomous in regard to internal matters, but not in regard to those that directly affect the outside world. if two groups are both entirely free as regards their relations to each other, there is no way of averting the danger of an open or covert appeal to force. the relations of a group of men to the outside world ought, whenever possible, to be controlled by a neutral authority. it is here that the state is necessary for adjusting the relations between different trades. the men who make some commodity should be entirely free as regards hours of labor, distribution of the total earnings of the trade, and all questions of business management. but they should not be free as regards the price of what they produce, since price is a matter concerning their relations to the rest of the community. if there were nominal freedom in regard to price, there would be a danger of a constant tug-of-war, in which those trades which were most immediately necessary to the existence of the community could always obtain an unfair advantage. force is no more admirable in the economic sphere than in dealings between states. in order to secure the maximum of freedom with the minimum of force, the universal principle is: _autonomy within each politically important group, and a neutral authority for deciding questions involving relations between groups_. the neutral authority should, of course, rest on a democratic basis, but should, if possible, represent a constituency wider than that of the groups concerned. in international affairs the only adequate authority would be one representing all civilized nations. in order to prevent undue extension of the power of such authorities, it is desirable and necessary that the various autonomous groups should be very jealous of their liberties, and very ready to resist by political means any encroachments upon their independence. state socialism does not tolerate such groups, each with their own officials responsible to the group. consequently it abandons the internal affairs of a group to the control of men not responsible to that group or specially aware of its needs. this opens the door to tyranny and to the destruction of initiative. these dangers are avoided by a system which allows any group of men to combine for any given purpose, provided it is not predatory, and to claim from the central authority such self-government as is necessary to the carrying out of the purpose. churches of various denominations afford an instance. their autonomy was won by centuries of warfare and persecution. it is to be hoped that a less terrible struggle will be required to achieve the same result in the economic sphere. but whatever the obstacles, i believe the importance of liberty is as great in the one case as it has been admitted to be in the other. chapter iv: individual liberty and public control i society cannot exist without law and order, and cannot advance except through the initiative of vigorous innovators. yet law and order are always hostile to innovations, and innovators are almost always, to some extent, anarchists. those whose minds are dominated by fear of a relapse towards barbarism will emphasize the importance of law and order, while those who are inspired by the hope of an advance towards civilization will usually be more conscious of the need of individual initiative. both temperaments are necessary, and wisdom lies in allowing each to operate freely where it is beneficent. but those who are on the side of law and order, since they are reinforced by custom and the instinct for upholding the _status quo_, have no need of a reasoned defense. it is the innovators who have difficulty in being allowed to exist and work. each generation believes that this difficulty is a thing of the past, but each generation is only tolerant of _past_ innovations. those of its own day are met with the same persecution as though the principle of toleration had never been heard of. "in early society," says westermarck, "customs are not only moral rules, but the only moral rules ever thought of. the savage strictly complies with the hegelian command that no man must have a private conscience. the following statement, which refers to the tinnevelly shanars, may be quoted as a typical example: 'solitary individuals amongst them rarely adopt any new opinions, or any new course of procedure. they follow the multitude to do evil, and they follow the multitude to do good. they think in herds.'"[ ] [ ] "the origin and development of the moral ideas," d edition, vol. i, p. . those among ourselves who have never thought a thought or done a deed in the slightest degree different from the thoughts and deeds of our neighbors will congratulate themselves on the difference between us and the savage. but those who have ever attempted any real innovation cannot help feeling that the people they know are not so very unlike the tinnevelly shanars. under the influence of socialism, even progressive opinion, in recent years, has been hostile to individual liberty. liberty is associated, in the minds of reformers, with _laissez-faire_, the manchester school, and the exploitation of women and children which resulted from what was euphemistically called "free competition." all these things were evil, and required state interference; in fact, there is need of an immense increase of state action in regard to cognate evils which still exist. in everything that concerns the economic life of the community, as regards both distribution and conditions of production, what is required is more public control, not less--how much more, i do not profess to know. another direction in which there is urgent need of the substitution of law and order for anarchy is international relations. at present, each sovereign state has complete individual freedom, subject only to the sanction of war. this individual freedom will have to be curtailed in regard to external relations if wars are ever to cease. but when we pass outside the sphere of material possessions, we find that the arguments in favor of public control almost entirely disappear. religion, to begin with, is recognized as a matter in which the state ought not to interfere. whether a man is christian, mahometan, or jew is a question of no public concern, so long as he obeys the laws; and the laws ought to be such as men of all religions can obey. yet even here there are limits. no civilized state would tolerate a religion demanding human sacrifice. the english in india put an end to suttee, in spite of a fixed principle of non-interference with native religious customs. perhaps they were wrong to prevent suttee, yet almost every european would have done the same. we cannot _effectively_ doubt that such practices ought to be stopped, however we may theorize in favor of religious liberty. in such cases, the interference with liberty is imposed from without by a higher civilization. but the more common case, and the more interesting, is when an independent state interferes on behalf of custom against individuals who are feeling their way toward more civilized beliefs and institutions. "in new south wales," says westermarck, "the first-born of every lubra used to be eaten by the tribe 'as part of a religious ceremony.' in the realm of khai-muh, in china, according to a native account, it was customary to kill and devour the eldest son alive. among certain tribes in british columbia the first child is often sacrificed to the sun. the indians of florida, according to le moyne de morgues, sacrificed the first-born son to the chief....'"[ ] [ ] _op cit._, p. . there are pages and pages of such instances. there is nothing analogous to these practices among ourselves. when the first-born in florida was told that his king and country needed him, this was a mere mistake, and with us mistakes of this kind do not occur. but it is interesting to inquire how these superstitions died out, in such cases, for example, as that of khai-muh, where foreign compulsion is improbable. we may surmise that some parents, under the selfish influence of parental affection, were led to doubt whether the sun would really be angry if the eldest child were allowed to live. such rationalism would be regarded as very dangerous, since it was calculated to damage the harvest. for generations the opinion would be cherished in secret by a handful of cranks, who would not be able to act upon it. at last, by concealment or flight, a few parents would save their children from the sacrifice. such parents would be regarded as lacking all public spirit, and as willing to endanger the community for their private pleasure. but gradually it would appear that the state remained intact, and the crops were no worse than in former years. then, by a fiction, a child would be deemed to have been sacrificed if it was solemnly dedicated to agriculture or some other work of national importance chosen by the chief. it would be many generations before the child would be allowed to choose its own occupation after it had grown old enough to know its own tastes and capacities. and during all those generations, children would be reminded that only an act of grace had allowed them to live at all, and would exist under the shadow of a purely imaginary duty to the state. the position of those parents who first disbelieved in the utility of infant sacrifice illustrates all the difficulties which arise in connection with the adjustment of individual freedom to public control. the authorities, believing the sacrifice necessary for the good of the community, were bound to insist upon it; the parents, believing it useless, were equally bound to do everything in their power toward saving the child. how ought both parties to act in such a case? the duty of the skeptical parent is plain: to save the child by any possible means, to preach the uselessness of the sacrifice in season and out of season, and to endure patiently whatever penalty the law may indict for evasion. but the duty of the authorities is far less clear. so long as they remain firmly persuaded that the universal sacrifice of the first-born is indispensable, they are bound to persecute those who seek to undermine this belief. but they will, if they are conscientious, very carefully examine the arguments of opponents, and be willing in advance to admit that these arguments _may_ be sound. they will carefully search their own hearts to see whether hatred of children or pleasure in cruelty has anything to do with their belief. they will remember that in the past history of khai-muh there are innumerable instances of beliefs, now known to be false, on account of which those who disagreed with the prevalent view were put to death. finally they will reflect that, though errors which are traditional are often wide-spread, new beliefs seldom win acceptance unless they are nearer to the truth than what they replace; and they will conclude that a new belief is probably either an advance, or so unlikely to become common as to be innocuous. all these considerations will make them hesitate before they resort to punishment. ii the study of past times and uncivilized races makes it clear beyond question that the customary beliefs of tribes or nations are almost invariably false. it is difficult to divest ourselves completely of the customary beliefs of our own age and nation, but it is not very difficult to achieve a certain degree of doubt in regard to them. the inquisitor who burnt men at the stake was acting with true humanity if all his beliefs were correct; but if they were in error at any point, he was inflicting a wholly unnecessary cruelty. a good working maxim in such matters is this: do not trust customary beliefs so far as to perform actions which must be disastrous unless the beliefs in question are wholly true. the world would be utterly bad, in the opinion of the average englishman, unless he could say "britannia rules the waves"; in the opinion of the average german, unless he could say "deutschland über alles." for the sake of these beliefs, they are willing to destroy european civilization. if the beliefs should happen to be false, their action is regrettable. one fact which emerges from these considerations is that no obstacle should be placed in the way of thought and its expression, nor yet in the way of statements of fact. this was formerly common ground among liberal thinkers, though it was never quite realized in the practice of civilized countries. but it has recently become, throughout europe, a dangerous paradox, on account of which men suffer imprisonment or starvation. for this reason it has again become worth stating. the grounds for it are so evident that i should be ashamed to repeat them if they were not universally ignored. but in the actual world it is very necessary to repeat them. to attain complete truth is not given to mortals, but to advance toward it by successive steps is not impossible. on any matter of general interest, there is usually, in any given community at any given time, a received opinion, which is accepted as a matter of course by all who give no special thought to the matter. any questioning of the received opinion rouses hostility, for a number of reasons. the most important of these is the instinct of conventionality, which exists in all gregarious animals and often leads them to put to death any markedly peculiar member of the herd. the next most important is the feeling of insecurity aroused by doubt as to the beliefs by which we are in the habit of regulating our lives. whoever has tried to explain the philosophy of berkeley to a plain man will have seen in its unadulterated form the anger aroused by this feeling. what the plain man derives from berkeley's philosophy at a first hearing is an uncomfortable suspicion that nothing is solid, so that it is rash to sit on a chair or to expect the floor to sustain us. because this suspicion is uncomfortable, it is irritating, except to those who regard the whole argument as merely nonsense. and in a more or less analogous way any questioning of what has been taken for granted destroys the feeling of standing on solid ground, and produces a condition of bewildered fear. a third reason which makes men dislike novel opinions is that vested interests are bound up with old beliefs. the long fight of the church against science, from giordano bruno to darwin, is attributable to this motive among others. the horror of socialism which existed in the remote past was entirely attributable to this cause. but it would be a mistake to assume, as is done by those who seek economic motives everywhere, that vested interests are the principal source of anger against novelties in thought. if this were the case, intellectual progress would be much more rapid than it is. the instinct of conventionality, horror of uncertainty, and vested interests, all militate against the acceptance of a new idea. and it is even harder to think of a new idea than to get it accepted; most people might spend a lifetime in reflection without ever making a genuinely original discovery. in view of all these obstacles, it is not likely that any society at any time will suffer from a plethora of heretical opinions. least of all is this likely in a modern civilized society, where the conditions of life are in constant rapid change, and demand, for successful adaptation, an equally rapid change in intellectual outlook. there should be an attempt, therefore, to encourage, rather than discourage, the expression of new beliefs and the dissemination of knowledge tending to support them. but the very opposite is, in fact, the case. from childhood upward, everything is done to make the minds of men and women conventional and sterile. and if, by misadventure, some spark of imagination remains, its unfortunate possessor is considered unsound and dangerous, worthy only of contempt in time of peace and of prison or a traitor's death in time of war. yet such men are known to have been in the past the chief benefactors of mankind, and are the very men who receive most honor as soon as they are safely dead. the whole realm of thought and opinion is utterly unsuited to public control; it ought to be as free, and as spontaneous as is possible to those who know what others have believed. the state is justified in insisting that children shall be educated, but it is not justified in forcing their education to proceed on a uniform plan and to be directed to the production of a dead level of glib uniformity. education, and the life of the mind generally, is a matter in which individual initiative is the chief thing needed; the function of the state should begin and end with insistence on some kind of education, and, if possible, a kind which promotes mental individualism, not a kind which happens to conform to the prejudices of government officials. iii questions of practical morals raise more difficult problems than questions of mere opinion. the thugs honestly believe it their duty to commit murders, but the government does not acquiesce. the conscientious objectors honestly hold the opposite opinion, and again the government does not acquiesce. killing is a state prerogative; it is equally criminal to do it unbidden and not to do it when bidden. the same applies to theft, unless it is on a large scale or by one who is already rich. thugs and thieves are men who use force in their dealings with their neighbors, and we may lay it down broadly that the private use of force should be prohibited except in rare cases, however conscientious may be its motive. but this principle will not justify compelling men to use force at the bidding of the state, when they do not believe it justified by the occasion. the punishment of conscientious objectors seems clearly a violation of individual liberty within its legitimate sphere. it is generally assumed without question that the state has a right to punish certain kinds of sexual irregularity. no one doubts that the mormons sincerely believed polygamy to be a desirable practice, yet the united states required them to abandon its legal recognition, and probably any other christian country would have done likewise. nevertheless, i do not think this prohibition was wise. polygamy is legally permitted in many parts of the world, but is not much practised except by chiefs and potentates. if, as europeans generally believe, it is an undesirable custom, it is probable that the mormons would have soon abandoned it, except perhaps for a few men of exceptional position. if, on the other hand, it had proved a successful experiment, the world would have acquired a piece of knowledge which it is now unable to possess. i think in all such cases the law should only intervene when there is some injury inflicted without the consent of the injured person. it is obvious that men and women would not tolerate having their wives or husbands selected by the state, whatever eugenists might have to say in favor of such a plan. in this it seems clear that ordinary public opinion is in the right, not because people choose wisely, but because any choice of their own is better than a forced marriage. what applies to marriage ought also to apply to the choice of a trade or profession; although some men have no marked preferences, most men greatly prefer some occupations to others, and are far more likely to be useful citizens if they follow their preferences than if they are thwarted by a public authority. the case of the man who has an intense conviction that he ought to do a certain kind of work is peculiar, and perhaps not very common; but it is important because it includes some very important individuals. joan of arc and florence nightingale defied convention in obedience to a feeling of this sort; reformers and agitators in unpopular causes, such as mazzini, have belonged to this class; so have many men of science. in cases of this kind the individual conviction deserves the greatest respect, even if there seems no obvious justification for it. obedience to the impulse is very unlikely to do much harm, and may well do great good. the practical difficulty is to distinguish such impulses from desires which produce similar manifestations. many young people wish to be authors without having an impulse to write any particular book, or wish to be painters without having an impulse to create any particular picture. but a little experience will usually show the difference between a genuine and a spurious impulse; and there is less harm in indulging the spurious impulse for a time than in thwarting the impulse which is genuine. nevertheless, the plain man almost always has a tendency to thwart the genuine impulse, because it seems anarchic and unreasonable, and is seldom able to give a good account of itself in advance. what is markedly true of some notable personalities is true, in a lesser degree, of almost every individual who has much vigor or force of life; there is an impulse towards activity of some kind, as a rule not very definite in youth, but growing gradually more sharply outlined under the influence of education and opportunity. the direct impulse toward a kind of activity for its own sake must be distinguished from the desire for the expected effects of the activity. a young man may desire the rewards of great achievement without having any spontaneous impulse toward the activities which lead to achievement. but those who actually achieve much, although they may desire the rewards, have also something in their nature which inclines them to choose a certain kind of work as the road which they must travel if their ambition is to be satisfied. this artist's impulse, as it may be called, is a thing of infinite value to the individual, and often to the world; to respect it in oneself and in others makes up nine tenths of the good life. in most human beings it is rather frail, rather easily destroyed or disturbed; parents and teachers are too often hostile to it, and our economic system crushes out its last remnants in young men and young women. the result is that human beings cease to be individual, or to retain the native pride that is their birthright; they become machine-made, tame, convenient for the bureaucrat and the drill-sergeant, capable of being tabulated in statistics without anything being omitted. this is the fundamental evil resulting from lack of liberty; and it is an evil which is being continually intensified as population grows more dense and the machinery of organization grows more efficient. the things that men desire are many and various: admiration, affection, power, security, ease, outlets for energy, are among the commonest of motives. but such abstractions do not touch what makes the difference between one man and another. whenever i go to the zoölogical gardens, i am struck by the fact that all the movements of a stork have some common quality, differing from the movements of a parrot or an ostrich. it is impossible to put in words what the common quality is, and yet we feel that each thing an animal does is the sort of thing we might expect that animal to do. this indefinable quality constitutes the individuality of the animal, and gives rise to the pleasure we feel in watching the animal's actions. in a human being, provided he has not been crushed by an economic or governmental machine, there is the same kind of individuality, a something distinctive without which no man or woman can achieve much of importance, or retain the full dignity which is native to human beings. it is this distinctive individuality that is loved by the artist, whether painter or writer. the artist himself, and the man who is creative in no matter what direction, has more of it than the average man. any society which crushes this quality, whether intentionally or by accident, must soon become utterly lifeless and traditional, without hope of progress and without any purpose in its being. to preserve and strengthen the impulse that makes individuality should be the foremost object of all political institutions. iv we now arrive at certain general principles in regard to individual liberty and public control. the greater part of human impulses may be divided into two classes, those which are possessive and those which are constructive or creative. social institutions are the garments or embodiments of impulses, and may be classified roughly according to the impulses which they embody. property is the direct expression of possessiveness; science and art are among the most direct expressions of creativeness. possessiveness is either defensive or aggressive; it seeks either to retain against a robber, or to acquire from a present holder. in either case an attitude of hostility toward others is of its essence. it would be a mistake to suppose that defensive possessiveness is always justifiable, while the aggressive kind is always blameworthy; where there is great injustice in the _status quo_, the exact opposite may be the case, and ordinarily neither is justifiable. state interference with the actions of individuals is necessitated by possessiveness. some goods can be acquired or retained by force, while others cannot. a wife can be acquired by force, as the romans acquired the sabine women; but a wife's affection cannot be acquired in this way. there is no record that the romans desired the affection of the sabine women; and those in whom possessive impulses are strong tend to care chiefly for the goods that force can secure. all material goods belong to this class. liberty in regard to such goods, if it were unrestricted, would make the strong rich and the weak poor. in a capitalistic society, owing to the partial restraints imposed by law, it makes cunning men rich and honest men poor, because the force of the state is put at men's disposal, not according to any just or rational principle, but according to a set of traditional maxims of which the explanation is purely historical. in all that concerns possession and the use of force, unrestrained liberty involves anarchy and injustice. freedom to kill, freedom to rob, freedom to defraud, no longer belong to individuals, though they still belong to great states, and are exercised by them in the name of patriotism. neither individuals nor states ought to be free to exert force on their own initiative, except in such sudden emergencies as will subsequently be admitted in justification by a court of law. the reason for this is that the exertion of force by one individual against another is always an evil on both sides, and can only be tolerated when it is compensated by some overwhelming resultant good. in order to minimize the amount of force actually exerted in the world, it is necessary that there should be a public authority, a repository of practically irresistible force, whose function should be primarily to repress the private use of force. a use of force is _private_ when it is exerted by one of the interested parties, or by his friends or accomplices, not by a public neutral authority according to some rule which is intended to be in the public interest. the régime of private property under which we live does much too little to restrain the private use of force. when a man owns a piece of land, for example, he may use force against trespassers, though they must not use force against him. it is clear that some restriction of the liberty of trespass is necessary for the cultivation of the land. but if such powers are to be given to an individual, the state ought to satisfy itself that he occupies no more land than he is warranted in occupying in the public interest, and that the share of the produce of the land that comes to him is no more than a just reward for his labors. probably the only way in which such ends can be achieved is by state ownership of land. the possessors of land and capital are able at present, by economic pressure, to use force against those who have no possessions. this force is sanctioned by law, while force exercised by the poor against the rich is illegal. such a state of things is unjust, and does not diminish the use of private force as much as it might be diminished. the whole realm of the possessive impulses, and of the use of force to which they give rise, stands in need of control by a public neutral authority, in the interests of liberty no less than of justice. within a nation, this public authority will naturally be the state; in relations between nations, if the present anarchy is to cease, it will have to be some international parliament. but the motive underlying the public control of men's possessive impulses should always be the increase of liberty, both by the prevention of private tyranny and by the liberation of creative impulses. if public control is not to do more harm than good, it must be so exercised as to leave the utmost freedom of private initiative in all those ways that do not involve the private use of force. in this respect all governments have always failed egregiously, and there is no evidence that they are improving. the creative impulses, unlike those that are possessive, are directed to ends in which one man's gain is not another man's loss. the man who makes a scientific discovery or writes a poem is enriching others at the same time as himself. any increase in knowledge or good-will is a gain to all who are affected by it, not only to the actual possessor. those who feel the joy of life are a happiness to others as well as to themselves. force cannot create such things, though it can destroy them; no principle of distributive justice applies to them, since the gain of each is the gain of all. for these reasons, the creative part of a man's activity ought to be as free as possible from all public control, in order that it may remain spontaneous and full of vigor. the only function of the state in regard to this part of the individual life should be to do everything possible toward providing outlets and opportunities. in every life a part is governed by the community, and a part by private initiative. the part governed by private initiative is greatest in the most important individuals, such as men of genius and creative thinkers. this part ought only to be restricted when it is predatory; otherwise, everything ought to be done to make it as great and as vigorous as possible. the object of education ought not to be to make all men think alike, but to make each think in the way which is the fullest expression of his own personality. in the choice of a means of livelihood all young men and young women ought, as far as possible, to be able to choose what is attractive to them; if no money-making occupation is attractive, they ought to be free to do little work for little pay, and spend their leisure as they choose. any kind of censure on freedom of thought or on the dissemination of knowledge is, of course, to be condemned utterly. huge organizations, both political and economic, are one of the distinguishing characteristics of the modern world. these organizations have immense power, and often use their power to discourage originality in thought and action. they ought, on the contrary, to give the freest scope that is possible without producing anarchy or violent conflict. they ought not to take cognizance of any part of a man's life except what is concerned with the legitimate objects of public control, namely, possessions and the use of force. and they ought, by devolution, to leave as large a share of control as possible in the hands of individuals and small groups. if this is not done, the men at the head of these vast organizations will infallibly become tyrannous through the habit of excessive power, and will in time interfere in ways that crush out individual initiative. the problem which faces the modern world is the combination of individual initiative with the increase in the scope and size of organizations. unless it is solved, individuals will grow less and less full of life and vigor, and more and more passively submissive to conditions imposed upon them. a society composed of such individuals cannot be progressive or add much to the world's stock of mental and spiritual possessions. only personal liberty and the encouragement of initiative can secure these things. those who resist authority when it encroaches upon the legitimate sphere of the individual are performing a service to society, however little society may value it. in regard to the past, this is universally acknowledged; but it is no less true in regard to the present and the future. chapter v: national independence and internationalism in the relations between states, as in the relations of groups within a single state, what is to be desired is independence for each as regards internal affairs, and law rather than private force as regards external affairs. but as regards groups within a state, it is internal independence that must be emphasized, since that is what is lacking; subjection to law has been secured, on the whole, since the end of the middle ages. in the relations between states, on the contrary, it is law and a central government that are lacking, since independence exists for external as for internal affairs. the stage we have reached in the affairs of europe corresponds to the stage reached in our internal affairs during the wars of the roses, when turbulent barons frustrated the attempt to make them keep the king's peace. thus, although the goal is the same in the two cases, the steps to be taken in order to achieve it are quite different. there can be no good international system until the boundaries of states coincide as nearly as possible with the boundaries of nations. but it is not easy to say what we mean by a nation. are the irish a nation? home rulers say yes, unionists say no. are the ulstermen a nation? unionists say yes, home rulers say no. in all such cases it is a party question whether we are to call a group a nation or not. a german will tell you that the russian poles are a nation, but as for the prussian poles, they, of course, are part of prussia. professors can always be hired to prove, by arguments of race or language or history, that a group about which there is a dispute is, or is not, a nation, as may be desired by those whom the professors serve. if we are to avoid all these controversies, we must first of all endeavor to find some definition of a nation. a nation is not to be defined by affinities of language or a common historical origin, though these things often help to produce a nation. switzerland is a nation, despite diversities of race, religion, and language. england and scotland now form one nation, though they did not do so at the time of the civil war. this is shown by cromwell's saying, in the height of the conflict, that he would rather be subject to the domain of the royalists than to that of the scotch. great britain was one state before it was one nation; on the other hand, germany was one nation before it was one state. what constitutes a nation is a sentiment and an instinct, a sentiment of similarity and an instinct of belonging to the same group or herd. the instinct is an extension of the instinct which constitutes a flock of sheep, or any other group of gregarious animals. the sentiment which goes with this is like a milder and more extended form of family feeling. when we return to england after being on the continent, we feel something friendly in the familiar ways, and it is easy to believe that englishmen on the whole are virtuous, while many foreigners are full of designing wickedness. such feelings make it easy to organize a nation into a state. it is not difficult, as a rule, to acquiesce in the orders of a national government. we feel that it is our government, and that its decrees are more or less the same as those which we should have given if we ourselves had been the governors. there is an instinctive and usually unconscious sense of a common purpose animating the members of a nation. this becomes especially vivid when there is war or a danger of war. any one who, at such a time, stands out against the orders of his government feels an inner conflict quite different from any that he would feel in standing out against the orders of a foreign government in whose power he might happen to find himself. if he stands out, he does so with some more or less conscious hope that his government may in time come to think as he does; whereas, in standing out against a foreign government, no such hope is necessary. this group instinct, however it may have arisen, is what constitutes a nation, and what makes it important that the boundaries of nations should also be the boundaries of states. national sentiment is a fact, and should be taken account of by institutions. when it is ignored, it is intensified and becomes a source of strife. it can only be rendered harmless by being given free play, so long as it is not predatory. but it is not, in itself, a good or admirable feeling. there is nothing rational and nothing desirable in a limitation of sympathy which confines it to a fragment of the human race. diversities of manners and customs and traditions are, on the whole, a good thing, since they enable different nations to produce different types of excellence. but in national feeling there is always latent or explicit an element of hostility to foreigners. national feeling, as we know it, could not exist in a nation which was wholly free from external pressure of a hostile kind. and group feeling produces a limited and often harmful kind of morality. men come to identify the good with what serves the interests of their own group, and the bad with what works against those interests, even if it should happen to be in the interests of mankind as a whole. this group morality is very much in evidence during war, and is taken for granted in men's ordinary thought. although almost all englishmen consider the defeat of germany desirable for the good of the world, yet nevertheless most of them honor a german for fighting for his country, because it has not occurred to them that his actions ought to be guided by a morality higher than that of the group. a man does right, as a rule, to have his thoughts more occupied with the interests of his own nation than with those of others, because his actions are more likely to affect his own nation. but in time of war, and in all matters which are of equal concern to other nations and to his own, a man ought to take account of the universal welfare, and not allow his survey to be limited by the interest, or supposed interest, of his own group or nation. so long as national feeling exists, it is very important that each nation should be self-governing as regards its internal affairs. government can only be carried on by force and tyranny if its subjects view it with hostile eyes, and they will so view it if they feel that it belongs to an alien nation. this principle meets with difficulties in cases where men of different nations live side by side in the same area, as happens in some parts of the balkans. there are also difficulties in regard to places which, for some geographical reason, are of great international importance, such as the suez canal and the panama canal. in such cases the purely local desires of the inhabitants may have to give way before larger interests. but in general, at any rate as applied to civilized communities, the principle that the boundaries of nations ought to coincide with the boundaries of states has very few exceptions. this principle, however, does not decide how the relations between states are to be regulated, or how a conflict of interests between rival states is to be decided. at present, every great state claims absolute sovereignty, not only in regard to its internal affairs but also in regard to its external actions. this claim to absolute sovereignty leads it into conflict with similar claims on the part of other great states. such conflicts at present can only be decided by war or diplomacy, and diplomacy is in essence nothing but the threat of war. there is no more justification for the claim to absolute sovereignty on the part of a state than there would be for a similar claim on the part of an individual. the claim to absolute sovereignty is, in effect, a claim that all external affairs are to be regulated purely by force, and that when two nations or groups of nations are interested in a question, the decision shall depend solely upon which of them is, or is believed to be, the stronger. this is nothing but primitive anarchy, "the war of all against all," which hobbes asserted to be the original state of mankind. there cannot be secure peace in the world, or any decision of international questions according to international law, until states are willing to part with their absolute sovereignty as regards their external relations, and to leave the decision in such matters to some international instrument of government.[ ] an international government will have to be legislative as well as judicial. it is not enough that there should be a hague tribunal, deciding matters according to some already existing system of international law; it is necessary also that there should be a body capable of enacting international law, and this body will have to have the power of transferring territory from one state to another, when it is persuaded that adequate grounds exist for such a transference. friends of peace will make a mistake if they unduly glorify the _status quo_. some nations grow, while others dwindle; the population of an area may change its character by emigration and immigration. there is no good reason why states should resent changes in their boundaries under such conditions, and if no international authority has power to make changes of this kind, the temptations to war will sometimes become irresistible. [ ] for detailed scheme of international government see "international government," by l. woolf. allen & unwin. the international authority ought to possess an army and navy, and these ought to be the only army and navy in existence. the only legitimate use of force is to diminish the total amount of force exercised in the world. so long as men are free to indulge their predatory instincts, some men or groups of men will take advantage of this freedom for oppression and robbery. just as the police are necessary to prevent the use of force by private citizens, so an international police will be necessary to prevent the lawless use of force by separate states. but i think it is reasonable to hope that if ever an international government, possessed of the only army and navy in the world, came into existence, the need of force to enact obedience to its decisions would be very temporary. in a short time the benefits resulting from the substitution of law for anarchy would become so obvious that the international government would acquire an unquestioned authority, and no state would dream of rebelling against its decisions. as soon as this stage had been reached, the international army and navy would become unnecessary. we have still a very long road to travel before we arrive at the establishment of an international authority, but it is not very difficult to foresee the steps by which this result will be gradually reached. there is likely to be a continual increase in the practice of submitting disputes to arbitration, and in the realization that the supposed conflicts of interest between different states are mainly illusory. even where there is a real conflict of interest, it must in time become obvious that neither of the states concerned would suffer as much by giving way as by fighting. with the progress of inventions, war, when it does occur, is bound to become increasingly destructive. the civilized races of the world are faced with the alternative of coöperation or mutual destruction. the present war is making this alternative daily more evident. and it is difficult to believe that, when the enmities which it has generated have had time to cool, civilized men will deliberately choose to destroy civilization, rather than acquiesce in the abolition of war. the matters in which the interests of nations are supposed to clash are mainly three: tariffs, which are a delusion; the exploitation of inferior races, which is a crime; pride of power and dominion, which is a schoolboy folly. the economic argument against tariffs is familiar, and i shall not repeat it. the only reason why it fails to carry conviction is the enmity between nations. nobody proposes to set up a tariff between england and scotland, or between lancashire and yorkshire. yet the arguments by which tariffs between nations are supported might be used just as well to defend tariffs between counties. universal free trade would indubitably be of economic benefit to mankind, and would be adopted to-morrow if it were not for the hatred and suspicion which nations feel one toward another. from the point of view of preserving the peace of the world, free trade between the different civilized states is not so important as the open door in their dependencies. the desire for exclusive markets is one of the most potent causes of war. exploiting what are called "inferior races" has become one of the main objects of european statecraft. it is not only, or primarily, trade that is desired, but opportunities for investment; finance is more concerned in the matter than industry. rival diplomatists are very often the servants, conscious or unconscious, of rival groups of financiers. the financiers, though themselves of no particular nation, understand the art of appealing to national prejudice, and of inducing the taxpayer to incur expenditure of which they reap the benefit. the evils which they produce at home, and the devastation that they spread among the races whom they exploit, are part of the price which the world has to pay for its acquiescence in the capitalist régime. but neither tariffs nor financiers would be able to cause serious trouble, if it were not for the sentiment of national pride. national pride might be on the whole beneficent, if it took the direction of emulation in the things that are important to civilization. if we prided ourselves upon our poets, our men of science, or the justice and humanity of our social system, we might find in national pride a stimulus to useful endeavors. but such matters play a very small part. national pride, as it exists now, is almost exclusively concerned with power and dominion, with the extent of territory that a nation owns, and with its capacity for enforcing its will against the opposition of other nations. in this it is reinforced by group morality. to nine citizens out of ten it seems self-evident, whenever the will of their own nation clashes with that of another, that their own nation must be in the right. even if it were not in the right on the particular issue, yet it stands in general for so much nobler ideals than those represented by the other nation to the dispute, that any increase in its power is bound to be for the good of mankind. since all nations equally believe this of themselves, all are equally ready to insist upon the victory of their own side in any dispute in which they believe that they have a good hope of victory. while this temper persists, the hope of international coöperation must remain dim. if men could divest themselves of the sentiment of rivalry and hostility between different nations, they would perceive that the matters in which the interests of different nations coincide immeasurably outweigh those in which they clash; they would perceive, to begin with, that trade is not to be compared to warfare; that the man who sells you goods is not doing you an injury. no one considers that the butcher and the baker are his enemies because they drain him of money. yet as soon as goods come from a foreign country, we are asked to believe that we suffer a terrible injury in purchasing them. no one remembers that it is by means of goods exported that we purchase them. but in the country to which we export, it is the goods we send which are thought dangerous, and the goods we buy are forgotten. the whole conception of trade, which has been forced upon us by manufacturers who dreaded foreign competition, by trusts which desired to secure monopolies, and by economists poisoned by the virus of nationalism, is totally and absolutely false. trade results simply from division of labor. a man cannot himself make all the goods of which he has need, and therefore he must exchange his produce with that of other people. what applies to the individual, applies in exactly the same way to the nation. there is no reason to desire that a nation should itself produce all the goods of which it has need; it is better that it should specialize upon those goods which it can produce to most advantage, and should exchange its surplus with the surplus of other goods produced by other countries. there is no use in sending goods out of the country except in order to get other goods in return. a butcher who is always willing to part with his meat but not willing to take bread from the baker, or boots from the bootmaker, or clothes from the tailor, would soon find himself in a sorry plight. yet he would be no more foolish than the protectionist who desires that we should send goods abroad without receiving payment in the shape of goods imported from abroad. the wage system has made people believe that what a man needs is work. this, of course, is absurd. what he needs is the goods produced by work, and the less work involved in making a given amount of goods, the better. but owing to our economic system, every economy in methods of production enables employers to dismiss some of their employees, and to cause destitution, where a better system would produce only an increase of wages or a diminution in the hours of work without any corresponding diminution of wages. our economic system is topsyturvy. it makes the interest of the individual conflict with the interest of the community in a thousand ways in which no such conflict ought to exist. under a better system the benefits of free trade and the evils of tariffs would be obvious to all. apart from trade, the interests of nations coincide in all that makes what we call civilization. inventions and discoveries bring benefit to all. the progress of science is a matter of equal concern to the whole civilized world. whether a man of science is an englishman, a frenchman, or a german is a matter of no real importance. his discoveries are open to all, and nothing but intelligence is required in order to profit by them. the whole world of art and literature and learning is international; what is done in one country is not done for that country, but for mankind. if we ask ourselves what are the things that raise mankind above the brutes, what are the things that make us think the human race more valuable than any species of animals, we shall find that none of them are things in which any one nation can have exclusive property, but all are things in which the whole world can share. those who have any care for these things, those who wish to see mankind fruitful in the work which men alone can do, will take little account of national boundaries, and have little care to what state a man happens to owe allegiance. the importance of international coöperation outside the sphere of politics has been brought home to me by my own experience. until lately i was engaged in teaching a new science which few men in the world were able to teach. my own work in this science was based chiefly upon the work of a german and an italian. my pupils came from all over the civilized world: france, germany, austria, russia, greece, japan, china, india, and america. none of us was conscious of any sense of national divisions. we felt ourselves an outpost of civilization, building a new road into the virgin forest of the unknown. all coöperated in the common task, and in the interest of such a work the political enmities of nations seemed trivial, temporary, and futile. but it is not only in the somewhat rarefied atmosphere of abstruse science that international coöperation is vital to the progress of civilization. all our economic problems, all the questions of securing the rights of labor, all the hopes of freedom at home and humanity abroad, rest upon the creation of international good-will. so long as hatred, suspicion, and fear dominate the feelings of men toward each other, so long we cannot hope to escape from the tyranny of violence and brute force. men must learn to be conscious of the common interests of mankind in which all are at one, rather than of those supposed interests in which the nations are divided. it is not necessary, or even desirable, to obliterate the differences of manners and custom and tradition between different nations. these differences enable each nation to make its own distinctive contribution to the sum total of the world's civilization. what is to be desired is not cosmopolitanism, not the absence of all national characteristics that one associates with couriers, _wagon-lit_ attendants, and others, who have had everything distinctive obliterated by multiple and trivial contacts with men of every civilized country. such cosmopolitanism is the result of loss, not gain. the international spirit which we should wish to see produced will be something added to love of country, not something taken away. just as patriotism does not prevent a man from feeling family affection, so the international spirit ought not to prevent a man from feeling affection for his own country. but it will somewhat alter the character of that affection. the things which he will desire for his own country will no longer be things which can only be acquired at the expense of others, but rather those things in which the excellence of any one country is to the advantage of all the world. he will wish his own country to be great in the arts of peace, to be eminent in thought and science, to be magnanimous and just and generous. he will wish it to help mankind on the way toward that better world of liberty and international concord which must be realized if any happiness is to be left to man. he will not desire for his country the passing triumphs of a narrow possessiveness, but rather the enduring triumph of having helped to embody in human affairs something of that spirit of brotherhood which christ taught and which the christian churches have forgotten. he will see that this spirit embodies not only the highest morality, but also the truest wisdom, and the only road by which the nations, torn and bleeding with the wounds which scientific madness has inflicted, can emerge into a life where growth is possible and joy is not banished at the frenzied call of unreal and fictitious duties. deeds inspired by hate are not duties, whatever pain and self-sacrifice they may involve. life and hope for the world are to be found only in the deeds of love. the writings of thomas paine, volume ii. by thomas paine collected and edited by moncure daniel conway - [redactor's note: reprinted from the "the writings of thomas paine volume i" ( - ). the author's notes are preceded by a "*". a table of contents has been added for each part for the convenience of the reader which is not included in the printed edition. notes are at the end of part ii. ] table of contents xiii the rights of man part the first being an answer to mr. burke's attack on the french revolution * editor's introduction * dedication to george washington * preface to the english edition * preface to the french edition * rights of man * miscellaneous chapter * conclusion xiv the rights of man part the second combining principle and practice * french translator's preface * dedication to m. de la fayette * preface * introduction * chapter i of society and civilisation * chapter ii of the origin of the present old governments * chapter iii of the old and new systems of government * chapter iv of constitutions * chapter v ways and means of improving the condition of europe, interspersed with miscellaneous observations * appendix * notes xiii. rights of man. editor's introduction. when thomas paine sailed from america for france, in april, , he was perhaps as happy a man as any in the world. his most intimate friend, jefferson, was minister at paris, and his friend lafayette was the idol of france. his fame had preceded him, and he at once became, in paris, the centre of the same circle of savants and philosophers that had surrounded franklin. his main reason for proceeding at once to paris was that he might submit to the academy of sciences his invention of an iron bridge, and with its favorable verdict he came to england, in september. he at once went to his aged mother at thetford, leaving with a publisher (ridgway), his "prospects on the rubicon." he next made arrangements to patent his bridge, and to construct at rotherham the large model of it exhibited on paddington green, london. he was welcomed in england by leading statesmen, such as lansdowne and fox, and above all by edmund burke, who for some time had him as a guest at beaconsfield, and drove him about in various parts of the country. he had not the slightest revolutionary purpose, either as regarded england or france. towards louis xvi. he felt only gratitude for the services he had rendered america, and towards george iii. he felt no animosity whatever. his four months' sojourn in paris had convinced him that there was approaching a reform of that country after the american model, except that the crown would be preserved, a compromise he approved, provided the throne should not be hereditary. events in france travelled more swiftly than he had anticipated, and paine was summoned by lafayette, condorcet, and others, as an adviser in the formation of a new constitution. such was the situation immediately preceding the political and literary duel between paine and burke, which in the event turned out a tremendous war between royalism and republicanism in europe. paine was, both in france and in england, the inspirer of moderate counsels. samuel rogers relates that in early life he dined at a friend's house in london with thomas paine, when one of the toasts given was the "memory of joshua,"--in allusion to the hebrew leader's conquest of the kings of canaan, and execution of them. paine observed that he would not treat kings like joshua. "i 'm of the scotch parson's opinion," he said, "when he prayed against louis xiv.--`lord, shake him over the mouth of hell, but don't let him drop!'" paine then gave as his toast, "the republic of the world,"--which samuel rogers, aged twenty-nine, noted as a sublime idea. this was paine's faith and hope, and with it he confronted the revolutionary storms which presently burst over france and england. until burke's arraignment of france in his parliamentary speech (february , ), paine had no doubt whatever that he would sympathize with the movement in france, and wrote to him from that country as if conveying glad tidings. burke's "reflections on the revolution in france" appeared november , , and paine at once set himself to answer it. he was then staying at the angel inn, islington. the inn has been twice rebuilt since that time, and from its contents there is preserved only a small image, which perhaps was meant to represent "liberty,"--possibly brought from paris by paine as an ornament for his study. from the angel he removed to a house in harding street, fetter lane. rickman says part first of "rights of man" was finished at versailles, but probably this has reference to the preface only, as i cannot find paine in france that year until april . the book had been printed by johnson, in time for the opening of parliament, in february; but this publisher became frightened after a few copies were out (there is one in the british museum), and the work was transferred to j. s. jordan, fleet street, with a preface sent from paris (not contained in johnson's edition, nor in the american editions). the pamphlet, though sold at the same price as burke's, three shillings, had a vast circulation, and paine gave the proceeds to the constitutional societies which sprang up under his teachings in various parts of the country. soon after appeared burke's "appeal from the new to the old whigs." in this burke quoted a good deal from "rights of man," but replied to it only with exclamation points, saying that the only answer such ideas merited was "criminal justice." paine's part second followed, published february , . in part first paine had mentioned a rumor that burke was a masked pensioner (a charge that will be noticed in connection with its detailed statement in a further publication); and as burke had been formerly arraigned in parliament, while paymaster, for a very questionable proceeding, this charge no doubt hurt a good deal. although the government did not follow burke's suggestion of a prosecution at that time, there is little doubt that it was he who induced the prosecution of part second. before the trial came on, december , , paine was occupying his seat in the french convention, and could only be outlawed. burke humorously remarked to a friend of paine and himself, "we hunt in pairs." the severally representative character and influence of these two men in the revolutionary era, in france and england, deserve more adequate study than they have received. while paine maintained freedom of discussion, burke first proposed criminal prosecution for sentiments by no means libellous (such as paine's part first). while paine was endeavoring to make the movement in france peaceful, burke fomented the league of monarchs against france which maddened its people, and brought on the reign of terror. while paine was endeavoring to preserve the french throne ("phantom" though he believed it), to prevent bloodshed, burke was secretly writing to the queen of france, entreating her not to compromise, and to "trust to the support of foreign armies" ("histoire de france depuis ." henri martin, i., ). while burke thus helped to bring the king and queen to the guillotine, paine pleaded for their lives to the last moment. while paine maintained the right of mankind to improve their condition, burke held that "the awful author of our being is the author of our place in the order of existence; and that, having disposed and marshalled us by a divine tactick, not according to our will, but according to his, he has, in and by that disposition, virtually subjected us to act the part which belongs to the place assigned us." paine was a religious believer in eternal principles; burke held that "political problems do not primarily concern truth or falsehood. they relate to good or evil. what in the result is likely to produce evil is politically false, that which is productive of good politically is true." assuming thus the visionary's right to decide before the result what was "likely to produce evil," burke vigorously sought to kindle war against the french republic which might have developed itself peacefully, while paine was striving for an international congress in europe in the interest of peace. paine had faith in the people, and believed that, if allowed to choose representatives, they would select their best and wisest men; and that while reforming government the people would remain orderly, as they had generally remained in america during the transition from british rule to selfgovernment. burke maintained that if the existing political order were broken up there would be no longer a people, but "a number of vague, loose individuals, and nothing more." "alas!" he exclaims, "they little know how many a weary step is to be taken before they can form themselves into a mass, which has a true personality." for the sake of peace paine wished the revolution to be peaceful as the advance of summer; he used every endeavor to reconcile english radicals to some modus vivendi with the existing order, as he was willing to retain louis xvi. as head of the executive in france: burke resisted every tendency of english statesmanship to reform at home, or to negotiate with the french republic, and was mainly responsible for the king's death and the war that followed between england and france in february, . burke became a royal favorite, paine was outlawed by a prosecution originally proposed by burke. while paine was demanding religious liberty, burke was opposing the removal of penal statutes from unitarians, on the ground that but for those statutes paine might some day set up a church in england. when burke was retiring on a large royal pension, paine was in prison, through the devices of burke's confederate, the american minister in paris. so the two men, as burke said, "hunted in pairs." so far as burke attempts to affirm any principle he is fairly quoted in paine's work, and nowhere misrepresented. as for paine's own ideas, the reader should remember that "rights of man" was the earliest complete statement of republican principles. they were pronounced to be the fundamental principles of the american republic by jefferson, madison, and jackson,-the three presidents who above all others represented the republican idea which paine first allied with american independence. those who suppose that paine did but reproduce the principles of rousseau and locke will find by careful study of his well-weighed language that such is not the case. paine's political principles were evolved out of his early quakerism. he was potential in george fox. the belief that every human soul was the child of god, and capable of direct inspiration from the father of all, without mediator or priestly intervention, or sacramental instrumentality, was fatal to all privilege and rank. the universal fatherhood implied universal brotherhood, or human equality. but the fate of the quakers proved the necessity of protecting the individual spirit from oppression by the majority as well as by privileged classes. for this purpose paine insisted on surrounding the individual right with the security of the declaration of rights, not to be invaded by any government; and would reduce government to an association limited in its operations to the defence of those rights which the individual is unable, alone, to maintain. from the preceding chapter it will be seen that part second of "rights of man" was begun by paine in the spring of . at the close of that year, or early in , he took up his abode with his friend thomas "clio" rickman, at no. upper marylebone street. rickman was a radical publisher; the house remains still a book-binding establishment, and seems little changed since paine therein revised the proofs of part second on a table which rickman marked with a plate, and which is now in possession of mr. edward truelove. as the plate states, paine wrote on the same table other works which appeared in england in . in d. i. eaton published an edition of "rights of man," with a preface purporting to have been written by paine while in luxembourg prison. it is manifestly spurious. the genuine english and french prefaces are given. rights of man being an answer to mr. burke's attack on the french revoloution by thomas paine secretary for foreign affairs to congress in the american war, and author of the works entitled "common sense" and "a letter to abbé raynal" dedication george washington president of the united states of america sir, i present you a small treatise in defence of those principles of freedom which your exemplary virtue hath so eminently contributed to establish. that the rights of man may become as universal as your benevolence can wish, and that you may enjoy the happiness of seeing the new world regenerate the old, is the prayer of sir, your much obliged, and obedient humble servant,     thomas paine paine's preface to the english edition from the part mr. burke took in the american revolution, it was natural that i should consider him a friend to mankind; and as our acquaintance commenced on that ground, it would have been more agreeable to me to have had cause to continue in that opinion than to change it. at the time mr. burke made his violent speech last winter in the english parliament against the french revolution and the national assembly, i was in paris, and had written to him but a short time before to inform him how prosperously matters were going on. soon after this i saw his advertisement of the pamphlet he intended to publish: as the attack was to be made in a language but little studied, and less understood in france, and as everything suffers by translation, i promised some of the friends of the revolution in that country that whenever mr. burke's pamphlet came forth, i would answer it. this appeared to me the more necessary to be done, when i saw the flagrant misrepresentations which mr. burke's pamphlet contains; and that while it is an outrageous abuse on the french revolution, and the principles of liberty, it is an imposition on the rest of the world. i am the more astonished and disappointed at this conduct in mr. burke, as (from the circumstances i am going to mention) i had formed other expectations. i had seen enough of the miseries of war, to wish it might never more have existence in the world, and that some other mode might be found out to settle the differences that should occasionally arise in the neighbourhood of nations. this certainly might be done if courts were disposed to set honesty about it, or if countries were enlightened enough not to be made the dupes of courts. the people of america had been bred up in the same prejudices against france, which at that time characterised the people of england; but experience and an acquaintance with the french nation have most effectually shown to the americans the falsehood of those prejudices; and i do not believe that a more cordial and confidential intercourse exists between any two countries than between america and france. when i came to france, in the spring of , the archbishop of thoulouse was then minister, and at that time highly esteemed. i became much acquainted with the private secretary of that minister, a man of an enlarged benevolent heart; and found that his sentiments and my own perfectly agreed with respect to the madness of war, and the wretched impolicy of two nations, like england and france, continually worrying each other, to no other end than that of a mutual increase of burdens and taxes. that i might be assured i had not misunderstood him, nor he me, i put the substance of our opinions into writing and sent it to him; subjoining a request, that if i should see among the people of england, any disposition to cultivate a better understanding between the two nations than had hitherto prevailed, how far i might be authorised to say that the same disposition prevailed on the part of france? he answered me by letter in the most unreserved manner, and that not for himself only, but for the minister, with whose knowledge the letter was declared to be written. i put this letter into the hands of mr. burke almost three years ago, and left it with him, where it still remains; hoping, and at the same time naturally expecting, from the opinion i had conceived of him, that he would find some opportunity of making good use of it, for the purpose of removing those errors and prejudices which two neighbouring nations, from the want of knowing each other, had entertained, to the injury of both. when the french revolution broke out, it certainly afforded to mr. burke an opportunity of doing some good, had he been disposed to it; instead of which, no sooner did he see the old prejudices wearing away, than he immediately began sowing the seeds of a new inveteracy, as if he were afraid that england and france would cease to be enemies. that there are men in all countries who get their living by war, and by keeping up the quarrels of nations, is as shocking as it is true; but when those who are concerned in the government of a country, make it their study to sow discord and cultivate prejudices between nations, it becomes the more unpardonable. with respect to a paragraph in this work alluding to mr. burke's having a pension, the report has been some time in circulation, at least two months; and as a person is often the last to hear what concerns him the most to know, i have mentioned it, that mr. burke may have an opportunity of contradicting the rumour, if he thinks proper.       thomas paine paine's preface to the french edition the astonishment which the french revolution has caused throughout europe should be considered from two different points of view: first as it affects foreign peoples, secondly as it affects their governments. the cause of the french people is that of all europe, or rather of the whole world; but the governments of all those countries are by no means favorable to it. it is important that we should never lose sight of this distinction. we must not confuse the peoples with their governments; especially not the english people with its government. the government of england is no friend of the revolution of france. of this we have sufficient proofs in the thanks given by that weak and witless person, the elector of hanover, sometimes called the king of england, to mr. burke for the insults heaped on it in his book, and in the malevolent comments of the english minister, pitt, in his speeches in parliament. in spite of the professions of sincerest friendship found in the official correspondence of the english government with that of france, its conduct gives the lie to all its declarations, and shows us clearly that it is not a court to be trusted, but an insane court, plunging in all the quarrels and intrigues of europe, in quest of a war to satisfy its folly and countenance its extravagance. the english nation, on the contrary, is very favorably disposed towards the french revolution, and to the progress of liberty in the whole world; and this feeling will become more general in england as the intrigues and artifices of its government are better known, and the principles of the revolution better understood. the french should know that most english newspapers are directly in the pay of government, or, if indirectly connected with it, always under its orders; and that those papers constantly distort and attack the revolution in france in order to deceive the nation. but, as it is impossible long to prevent the prevalence of truth, the daily falsehoods of those papers no longer have the desired effect. to be convinced that the voice of truth has been stifled in england, the world needs only to be told that the government regards and prosecutes as a libel that which it should protect.*[ ] this outrage on morality is called law, and judges are found wicked enough to inflict penalties on truth. the english government presents, just now, a curious phenomenon. seeing that the french and english nations are getting rid of the prejudices and false notions formerly entertained against each other, and which have cost them so much money, that government seems to be placarding its need of a foe; for unless it finds one somewhere, no pretext exists for the enormous revenue and taxation now deemed necessary. therefore it seeks in russia the enemy it has lost in france, and appears to say to the universe, or to say to itself. "if nobody will be so kind as to become my foe, i shall need no more fleets nor armies, and shall be forced to reduce my taxes. the american war enabled me to double the taxes; the dutch business to add more; the nootka humbug gave me a pretext for raising three millions sterling more; but unless i can make an enemy of russia the harvest from wars will end. i was the first to incite turk against russian, and now i hope to reap a fresh crop of taxes." if the miseries of war, and the flood of evils it spreads over a country, did not check all inclination to mirth, and turn laughter into grief, the frantic conduct of the government of england would only excite ridicule. but it is impossible to banish from one's mind the images of suffering which the contemplation of such vicious policy presents. to reason with governments, as they have existed for ages, is to argue with brutes. it is only from the nations themselves that reforms can be expected. there ought not now to exist any doubt that the peoples of france, england, and america, enlightened and enlightening each other, shall henceforth be able, not merely to give the world an example of good government, but by their united influence enforce its practice. (translated from the french) rights of man. part the first being an answer to mr. burke's attack on the french revolution among the incivilities by which nations or individuals provoke and irritate each other, mr. burke's pamphlet on the french revolution is an extraordinary instance. neither the people of france, nor the national assembly, were troubling themselves about the affairs of england, or the english parliament; and that mr. burke should commence an unprovoked attack upon them, both in parliament and in public, is a conduct that cannot be pardoned on the score of manners, nor justified on that of policy. there is scarcely an epithet of abuse to be found in the english language, with which mr. burke has not loaded the french nation and the national assembly. everything which rancour, prejudice, ignorance or knowledge could suggest, is poured forth in the copious fury of near four hundred pages. in the strain and on the plan mr. burke was writing, he might have written on to as many thousands. when the tongue or the pen is let loose in a frenzy of passion, it is the man, and not the subject, that becomes exhausted. hitherto mr. burke has been mistaken and disappointed in the opinions he had formed of the affairs of france; but such is the ingenuity of his hope, or the malignancy of his despair, that it furnishes him with new pretences to go on. there was a time when it was impossible to make mr. burke believe there would be any revolution in france. his opinion then was, that the french had neither spirit to undertake it nor fortitude to support it; and now that there is one, he seeks an escape by condemning it. not sufficiently content with abusing the national assembly, a great part of his work is taken up with abusing dr. price (one of the best-hearted men that lives) and the two societies in england known by the name of the revolution society and the society for constitutional information. dr. price had preached a sermon on the th of november, , being the anniversary of what is called in england the revolution, which took place . mr. burke, speaking of this sermon, says: "the political divine proceeds dogmatically to assert, that by the principles of the revolution, the people of england have acquired three fundamental rights: . to choose our own governors. . to cashier them for misconduct. . to frame a government for ourselves." dr. price does not say that the right to do these things exists in this or in that person, or in this or in that description of persons, but that it exists in the whole; that it is a right resident in the nation. mr. burke, on the contrary, denies that such a right exists in the nation, either in whole or in part, or that it exists anywhere; and, what is still more strange and marvellous, he says: "that the people of england utterly disclaim such a right, and that they will resist the practical assertion of it with their lives and fortunes." that men should take up arms and spend their lives and fortunes, not to maintain their rights, but to maintain they have not rights, is an entirely new species of discovery, and suited to the paradoxical genius of mr. burke. the method which mr. burke takes to prove that the people of england have no such rights, and that such rights do not now exist in the nation, either in whole or in part, or anywhere at all, is of the same marvellous and monstrous kind with what he has already said; for his arguments are that the persons, or the generation of persons, in whom they did exist, are dead, and with them the right is dead also. to prove this, he quotes a declaration made by parliament about a hundred years ago, to william and mary, in these words: "the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons, do, in the name of the people aforesaid" (meaning the people of england then living) "most humbly and faithfully submit themselves, their heirs and posterities, for ever." he quotes a clause of another act of parliament made in the same reign, the terms of which he says, "bind us" (meaning the people of their day), "our heirs and our posterity, to them, their heirs and posterity, to the end of time." mr. burke conceives his point sufficiently established by producing those clauses, which he enforces by saying that they exclude the right of the nation for ever. and not yet content with making such declarations, repeated over and over again, he farther says, "that if the people of england possessed such a right before the revolution" (which he acknowledges to have been the case, not only in england, but throughout europe, at an early period), "yet that the english nation did, at the time of the revolution, most solemnly renounce and abdicate it, for themselves, and for all their posterity, for ever." as mr. burke occasionally applies the poison drawn from his horrid principles, not only to the english nation, but to the french revolution and the national assembly, and charges that august, illuminated and illuminating body of men with the epithet of usurpers, i shall, sans ceremonie, place another system of principles in opposition to his. the english parliament of did a certain thing, which, for themselves and their constituents, they had a right to do, and which it appeared right should be done. but, in addition to this right, which they possessed by delegation, they set up another right by assumption, that of binding and controlling posterity to the end of time. the case, therefore, divides itself into two parts; the right which they possessed by delegation, and the right which they set up by assumption. the first is admitted; but with respect to the second, i reply: there never did, there never will, and there never can, exist a parliament, or any description of men, or any generation of men, in any country, possessed of the right or the power of binding and controlling posterity to the "end of time," or of commanding for ever how the world shall be governed, or who shall govern it; and therefore all such clauses, acts or declarations by which the makers of them attempt to do what they have neither the right nor the power to do, nor the power to execute, are in themselves null and void. every age and generation must be as free to act for itself in all cases as the age and generations which preceded it. the vanity and presumption of governing beyond the grave is the most ridiculous and insolent of all tyrannies. man has no property in man; neither has any generation a property in the generations which are to follow. the parliament or the people of , or of any other period, had no more right to dispose of the people of the present day, or to bind or to control them in any shape whatever, than the parliament or the people of the present day have to dispose of, bind or control those who are to live a hundred or a thousand years hence. every generation is, and must be, competent to all the purposes which its occasions require. it is the living, and not the dead, that are to be accommodated. when man ceases to be, his power and his wants cease with him; and having no longer any participation in the concerns of this world, he has no longer any authority in directing who shall be its governors, or how its government shall be organised, or how administered. i am not contending for nor against any form of government, nor for nor against any party, here or elsewhere. that which a whole nation chooses to do it has a right to do. mr. burke says, no. where, then, does the right exist? i am contending for the rights of the living, and against their being willed away and controlled and contracted for by the manuscript assumed authority of the dead, and mr. burke is contending for the authority of the dead over the rights and freedom of the living. there was a time when kings disposed of their crowns by will upon their death-beds, and consigned the people, like beasts of the field, to whatever successor they appointed. this is now so exploded as scarcely to be remembered, and so monstrous as hardly to be believed. but the parliamentary clauses upon which mr. burke builds his political church are of the same nature. the laws of every country must be analogous to some common principle. in england no parent or master, nor all the authority of parliament, omnipotent as it has called itself, can bind or control the personal freedom even of an individual beyond the age of twenty-one years. on what ground of right, then, could the parliament of , or any other parliament, bind all posterity for ever? those who have quitted the world, and those who have not yet arrived at it, are as remote from each other as the utmost stretch of mortal imagination can conceive. what possible obligation, then, can exist between them--what rule or principle can be laid down that of two nonentities, the one out of existence and the other not in, and who never can meet in this world, the one should control the other to the end of time? in england it is said that money cannot be taken out of the pockets of the people without their consent. but who authorised, or who could authorise, the parliament of to control and take away the freedom of posterity (who were not in existence to give or to withhold their consent) and limit and confine their right of acting in certain cases for ever? a greater absurdity cannot present itself to the understanding of man than what mr. burke offers to his readers. he tells them, and he tells the world to come, that a certain body of men who existed a hundred years ago made a law, and that there does not exist in the nation, nor ever will, nor ever can, a power to alter it. under how many subtilties or absurdities has the divine right to govern been imposed on the credulity of mankind? mr. burke has discovered a new one, and he has shortened his journey to rome by appealing to the power of this infallible parliament of former days, and he produces what it has done as of divine authority, for that power must certainly be more than human which no human power to the end of time can alter. but mr. burke has done some service--not to his cause, but to his country--by bringing those clauses into public view. they serve to demonstrate how necessary it is at all times to watch against the attempted encroachment of power, and to prevent its running to excess. it is somewhat extraordinary that the offence for which james ii. was expelled, that of setting up power by assumption, should be re-acted, under another shape and form, by the parliament that expelled him. it shows that the rights of man were but imperfectly understood at the revolution, for certain it is that the right which that parliament set up by assumption (for by the delegation it had not, and could not have it, because none could give it) over the persons and freedom of posterity for ever was of the same tyrannical unfounded kind which james attempted to set up over the parliament and the nation, and for which he was expelled. the only difference is (for in principle they differ not) that the one was an usurper over living, and the other over the unborn; and as the one has no better authority to stand upon than the other, both of them must be equally null and void, and of no effect. from what, or from whence, does mr. burke prove the right of any human power to bind posterity for ever? he has produced his clauses, but he must produce also his proofs that such a right existed, and show how it existed. if it ever existed it must now exist, for whatever appertains to the nature of man cannot be annihilated by man. it is the nature of man to die, and he will continue to die as long as he continues to be born. but mr. burke has set up a sort of political adam, in whom all posterity are bound for ever. he must, therefore, prove that his adam possessed such a power, or such a right. the weaker any cord is, the less will it bear to be stretched, and the worse is the policy to stretch it, unless it is intended to break it. had anyone proposed the overthrow of mr. burke's positions, he would have proceeded as mr. burke has done. he would have magnified the authorities, on purpose to have called the right of them into question; and the instant the question of right was started, the authorities must have been given up. it requires but a very small glance of thought to perceive that although laws made in one generation often continue in force through succeeding generations, yet they continue to derive their force from the consent of the living. a law not repealed continues in force, not because it cannot be repealed, but because it is not repealed; and the non-repealing passes for consent. but mr. burke's clauses have not even this qualification in their favour. they become null, by attempting to become immortal. the nature of them precludes consent. they destroy the right which they might have, by grounding it on a right which they cannot have. immortal power is not a human right, and therefore cannot be a right of parliament. the parliament of might as well have passed an act to have authorised themselves to live for ever, as to make their authority live for ever. all, therefore, that can be said of those clauses is that they are a formality of words, of as much import as if those who used them had addressed a congratulation to themselves, and in the oriental style of antiquity had said: o parliament, live for ever! the circumstances of the world are continually changing, and the opinions of men change also; and as government is for the living, and not for the dead, it is the living only that has any right in it. that which may be thought right and found convenient in one age may be thought wrong and found inconvenient in another. in such cases, who is to decide, the living or the dead? as almost one hundred pages of mr. burke's book are employed upon these clauses, it will consequently follow that if the clauses themselves, so far as they set up an assumed usurped dominion over posterity for ever, are unauthoritative, and in their nature null and void; that all his voluminous inferences, and declamation drawn therefrom, or founded thereon, are null and void also; and on this ground i rest the matter. we now come more particularly to the affairs of france. mr. burke's book has the appearance of being written as instruction to the french nation; but if i may permit myself the use of an extravagant metaphor, suited to the extravagance of the case, it is darkness attempting to illuminate light. while i am writing this there are accidentally before me some proposals for a declaration of rights by the marquis de la fayette (i ask his pardon for using his former address, and do it only for distinction's sake) to the national assembly, on the th of july, , three days before the taking of the bastille, and i cannot but remark with astonishment how opposite the sources are from which that gentleman and mr. burke draw their principles. instead of referring to musty records and mouldy parchments to prove that the rights of the living are lost, "renounced and abdicated for ever," by those who are now no more, as mr. burke has done, m. de la fayette applies to the living world, and emphatically says: "call to mind the sentiments which nature has engraved on the heart of every citizen, and which take a new force when they are solemnly recognised by all:--for a nation to love liberty, it is sufficient that she knows it; and to be free, it is sufficient that she wills it." how dry, barren, and obscure is the source from which mr. burke labors! and how ineffectual, though gay with flowers, are all his declamation and his arguments compared with these clear, concise, and soul-animating sentiments! few and short as they are, they lead on to a vast field of generous and manly thinking, and do not finish, like mr. burke's periods, with music in the ear, and nothing in the heart. as i have introduced m. de la fayette, i will take the liberty of adding an anecdote respecting his farewell address to the congress of america in , and which occurred fresh to my mind, when i saw mr. burke's thundering attack on the french revolution. m. de la fayette went to america at the early period of the war, and continued a volunteer in her service to the end. his conduct through the whole of that enterprise is one of the most extraordinary that is to be found in the history of a young man, scarcely twenty years of age. situated in a country that was like the lap of sensual pleasure, and with the means of enjoying it, how few are there to be found who would exchange such a scene for the woods and wildernesses of america, and pass the flowery years of youth in unprofitable danger and hardship! but such is the fact. when the war ended, and he was on the point of taking his final departure, he presented himself to congress, and contemplating in his affectionate farewell the revolution he had seen, expressed himself in these words: "may this great monument raised to liberty serve as a lesson to the oppressor, and an example to the oppressed!" when this address came to the hands of dr. franklin, who was then in france, he applied to count vergennes to have it inserted in the french gazette, but never could obtain his consent. the fact was that count vergennes was an aristocratical despot at home, and dreaded the example of the american revolution in france, as certain other persons now dread the example of the french revolution in england, and mr. burke's tribute of fear (for in this light his book must be considered) runs parallel with count vergennes' refusal. but to return more particularly to his work. "we have seen," says mr. burke, "the french rebel against a mild and lawful monarch, with more fury, outrage, and insult, than any people has been known to rise against the most illegal usurper, or the most sanguinary tyrant." this is one among a thousand other instances, in which mr. burke shows that he is ignorant of the springs and principles of the french revolution. it was not against louis xvi. but against the despotic principles of the government, that the nation revolted. these principles had not their origin in him, but in the original establishment, many centuries back: and they were become too deeply rooted to be removed, and the augean stables of parasites and plunderers too abominably filthy to be cleansed by anything short of a complete and universal revolution. when it becomes necessary to do anything, the whole heart and soul should go into the measure, or not attempt it. that crisis was then arrived, and there remained no choice but to act with determined vigor, or not to act at all. the king was known to be the friend of the nation, and this circumstance was favorable to the enterprise. perhaps no man bred up in the style of an absolute king, ever possessed a heart so little disposed to the exercise of that species of power as the present king of france. but the principles of the government itself still remained the same. the monarch and the monarchy were distinct and separate things; and it was against the established despotism of the latter, and not against the person or principles of the former, that the revolt commenced, and the revolution has been carried. mr. burke does not attend to the distinction between men and principles, and, therefore, he does not see that a revolt may take place against the despotism of the latter, while there lies no charge of despotism against the former. the natural moderation of louis xvi. contributed nothing to alter the hereditary despotism of the monarchy. all the tyrannies of former reigns, acted under that hereditary despotism, were still liable to be revived in the hands of a successor. it was not the respite of a reign that would satisfy france, enlightened as she was then become. a casual discontinuance of the practice of despotism, is not a discontinuance of its principles: the former depends on the virtue of the individual who is in immediate possession of the power; the latter, on the virtue and fortitude of the nation. in the case of charles i. and james ii. of england, the revolt was against the personal despotism of the men; whereas in france, it was against the hereditary despotism of the established government. but men who can consign over the rights of posterity for ever on the authority of a mouldy parchment, like mr. burke, are not qualified to judge of this revolution. it takes in a field too vast for their views to explore, and proceeds with a mightiness of reason they cannot keep pace with. but there are many points of view in which this revolution may be considered. when despotism has established itself for ages in a country, as in france, it is not in the person of the king only that it resides. it has the appearance of being so in show, and in nominal authority; but it is not so in practice and in fact. it has its standard everywhere. every office and department has its despotism, founded upon custom and usage. every place has its bastille, and every bastille its despot. the original hereditary despotism resident in the person of the king, divides and sub-divides itself into a thousand shapes and forms, till at last the whole of it is acted by deputation. this was the case in france; and against this species of despotism, proceeding on through an endless labyrinth of office till the source of it is scarcely perceptible, there is no mode of redress. it strengthens itself by assuming the appearance of duty, and tyrannizes under the pretence of obeying. when a man reflects on the condition which france was in from the nature of her government, he will see other causes for revolt than those which immediately connect themselves with the person or character of louis xvi. there were, if i may so express it, a thousand despotisms to be reformed in france, which had grown up under the hereditary despotism of the monarchy, and became so rooted as to be in a great measure independent of it. between the monarchy, the parliament, and the church there was a rivalship of despotism; besides the feudal despotism operating locally, and the ministerial despotism operating everywhere. but mr. burke, by considering the king as the only possible object of a revolt, speaks as if france was a village, in which everything that passed must be known to its commanding officer, and no oppression could be acted but what he could immediately control. mr. burke might have been in the bastille his whole life, as well under louis xvi. as louis xiv., and neither the one nor the other have known that such a man as burke existed. the despotic principles of the government were the same in both reigns, though the dispositions of the men were as remote as tyranny and benevolence. what mr. burke considers as a reproach to the french revolution (that of bringing it forward under a reign more mild than the preceding ones) is one of its highest honors. the revolutions that have taken place in other european countries, have been excited by personal hatred. the rage was against the man, and he became the victim. but, in the instance of france we see a revolution generated in the rational contemplation of the rights of man, and distinguishing from the beginning between persons and principles. but mr. burke appears to have no idea of principles when he is contemplating governments. "ten years ago," says he, "i could have felicitated france on her having a government, without inquiring what the nature of that government was, or how it was administered." is this the language of a rational man? is it the language of a heart feeling as it ought to feel for the rights and happiness of the human race? on this ground, mr. burke must compliment all the governments in the world, while the victims who suffer under them, whether sold into slavery, or tortured out of existence, are wholly forgotten. it is power, and not principles, that mr. burke venerates; and under this abominable depravity he is disqualified to judge between them. thus much for his opinion as to the occasions of the french revolution. i now proceed to other considerations. i know a place in america called point-no-point, because as you proceed along the shore, gay and flowery as mr. burke's language, it continually recedes and presents itself at a distance before you; but when you have got as far as you can go, there is no point at all. just thus it is with mr. burke's three hundred and sixty-six pages. it is therefore difficult to reply to him. but as the points he wishes to establish may be inferred from what he abuses, it is in his paradoxes that we must look for his arguments. as to the tragic paintings by which mr. burke has outraged his own imagination, and seeks to work upon that of his readers, they are very well calculated for theatrical representation, where facts are manufactured for the sake of show, and accommodated to produce, through the weakness of sympathy, a weeping effect. but mr. burke should recollect that he is writing history, and not plays, and that his readers will expect truth, and not the spouting rant of high-toned exclamation. when we see a man dramatically lamenting in a publication intended to be believed that "the age of chivalry is gone! that the glory of europe is extinguished for ever! that the unbought grace of life (if anyone knows what it is), the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise is gone!" and all this because the quixot age of chivalry nonsense is gone, what opinion can we form of his judgment, or what regard can we pay to his facts? in the rhapsody of his imagination he has discovered a world of wind mills, and his sorrows are that there are no quixots to attack them. but if the age of aristocracy, like that of chivalry, should fall (and they had originally some connection) mr. burke, the trumpeter of the order, may continue his parody to the end, and finish with exclaiming: "othello's occupation's gone!" notwithstanding mr. burke's horrid paintings, when the french revolution is compared with the revolutions of other countries, the astonishment will be that it is marked with so few sacrifices; but this astonishment will cease when we reflect that principles, and not persons, were the meditated objects of destruction. the mind of the nation was acted upon by a higher stimulus than what the consideration of persons could inspire, and sought a higher conquest than could be produced by the downfall of an enemy. among the few who fell there do not appear to be any that were intentionally singled out. they all of them had their fate in the circumstances of the moment, and were not pursued with that long, cold-blooded unabated revenge which pursued the unfortunate scotch in the affair of . through the whole of mr. burke's book i do not observe that the bastille is mentioned more than once, and that with a kind of implication as if he were sorry it was pulled down, and wished it were built up again. "we have rebuilt newgate," says he, "and tenanted the mansion; and we have prisons almost as strong as the bastille for those who dare to libel the queens of france."*[ ] as to what a madman like the person called lord george gordon might say, and to whom newgate is rather a bedlam than a prison, it is unworthy a rational consideration. it was a madman that libelled, and that is sufficient apology; and it afforded an opportunity for confining him, which was the thing that was wished for. but certain it is that mr. burke, who does not call himself a madman (whatever other people may do), has libelled in the most unprovoked manner, and in the grossest style of the most vulgar abuse, the whole representative authority of france, and yet mr. burke takes his seat in the british house of commons! from his violence and his grief, his silence on some points and his excess on others, it is difficult not to believe that mr. burke is sorry, extremely sorry, that arbitrary power, the power of the pope and the bastille, are pulled down. not one glance of compassion, not one commiserating reflection that i can find throughout his book, has he bestowed on those who lingered out the most wretched of lives, a life without hope in the most miserable of prisons. it is painful to behold a man employing his talents to corrupt himself. nature has been kinder to mr. burke than he is to her. he is not affected by the reality of distress touching his heart, but by the showy resemblance of it striking his imagination. he pities the plumage, but forgets the dying bird. accustomed to kiss the aristocratical hand that hath purloined him from himself, he degenerates into a composition of art, and the genuine soul of nature forsakes him. his hero or his heroine must be a tragedy-victim expiring in show, and not the real prisoner of misery, sliding into death in the silence of a dungeon. as mr. burke has passed over the whole transaction of the bastille (and his silence is nothing in his favour), and has entertained his readers with refections on supposed facts distorted into real falsehoods, i will give, since he has not, some account of the circumstances which preceded that transaction. they will serve to show that less mischief could scarcely have accompanied such an event when considered with the treacherous and hostile aggravations of the enemies of the revolution. the mind can hardly picture to itself a more tremendous scene than what the city of paris exhibited at the time of taking the bastille, and for two days before and after, nor perceive the possibility of its quieting so soon. at a distance this transaction has appeared only as an act of heroism standing on itself, and the close political connection it had with the revolution is lost in the brilliancy of the achievement. but we are to consider it as the strength of the parties brought man to man, and contending for the issue. the bastille was to be either the prize or the prison of the assailants. the downfall of it included the idea of the downfall of despotism, and this compounded image was become as figuratively united as bunyan's doubting castle and giant despair. the national assembly, before and at the time of taking the bastille, was sitting at versailles, twelve miles distant from paris. about a week before the rising of the partisans, and their taking the bastille, it was discovered that a plot was forming, at the head of which was the count d'artois, the king's youngest brother, for demolishing the national assembly, seizing its members, and thereby crushing, by a coup de main, all hopes and prospects of forming a free government. for the sake of humanity, as well as freedom, it is well this plan did not succeed. examples are not wanting to show how dreadfully vindictive and cruel are all old governments, when they are successful against what they call a revolt. this plan must have been some time in contemplation; because, in order to carry it into execution, it was necessary to collect a large military force round paris, and cut off the communication between that city and the national assembly at versailles. the troops destined for this service were chiefly the foreign troops in the pay of france, and who, for this particular purpose, were drawn from the distant provinces where they were then stationed. when they were collected to the amount of between twenty-five and thirty thousand, it was judged time to put the plan into execution. the ministry who were then in office, and who were friendly to the revolution, were instantly dismissed and a new ministry formed of those who had concerted the project, among whom was count de broglio, and to his share was given the command of those troops. the character of this man as described to me in a letter which i communicated to mr. burke before he began to write his book, and from an authority which mr. burke well knows was good, was that of "a high-flying aristocrat, cool, and capable of every mischief." while these matters were agitating, the national assembly stood in the most perilous and critical situation that a body of men can be supposed to act in. they were the devoted victims, and they knew it. they had the hearts and wishes of their country on their side, but military authority they had none. the guards of broglio surrounded the hall where the assembly sat, ready, at the word of command, to seize their persons, as had been done the year before to the parliament of paris. had the national assembly deserted their trust, or had they exhibited signs of weakness or fear, their enemies had been encouraged and their country depressed. when the situation they stood in, the cause they were engaged in, and the crisis then ready to burst, which should determine their personal and political fate and that of their country, and probably of europe, are taken into one view, none but a heart callous with prejudice or corrupted by dependence can avoid interesting itself in their success. the archbishop of vienne was at this time president of the national assembly--a person too old to undergo the scene that a few days or a few hours might bring forth. a man of more activity and bolder fortitude was necessary, and the national assembly chose (under the form of a vice-president, for the presidency still resided in the archbishop) m. de la fayette; and this is the only instance of a vice-president being chosen. it was at the moment that this storm was pending (july th) that a declaration of rights was brought forward by m. de la fayette, and is the same which is alluded to earlier. it was hastily drawn up, and makes only a part of the more extensive declaration of rights agreed upon and adopted afterwards by the national assembly. the particular reason for bringing it forward at this moment (m. de la fayette has since informed me) was that, if the national assembly should fall in the threatened destruction that then surrounded it, some trace of its principles might have the chance of surviving the wreck. everything now was drawing to a crisis. the event was freedom or slavery. on one side, an army of nearly thirty thousand men; on the other, an unarmed body of citizens--for the citizens of paris, on whom the national assembly must then immediately depend, were as unarmed and as undisciplined as the citizens of london are now. the french guards had given strong symptoms of their being attached to the national cause; but their numbers were small, not a tenth part of the force that broglio commanded, and their officers were in the interest of broglio. matters being now ripe for execution, the new ministry made their appearance in office. the reader will carry in his mind that the bastille was taken the th july; the point of time i am now speaking of is the th. immediately on the news of the change of ministry reaching paris, in the afternoon, all the playhouses and places of entertainment, shops and houses, were shut up. the change of ministry was considered as the prelude of hostilities, and the opinion was rightly founded. the foreign troops began to advance towards the city. the prince de lambesc, who commanded a body of german cavalry, approached by the place of louis xv., which connects itself with some of the streets. in his march, he insulted and struck an old man with a sword. the french are remarkable for their respect to old age; and the insolence with which it appeared to be done, uniting with the general fermentation they were in, produced a powerful effect, and a cry of "to arms! to arms!" spread itself in a moment over the city. arms they had none, nor scarcely anyone who knew the use of them; but desperate resolution, when every hope is at stake, supplies, for a while, the want of arms. near where the prince de lambesc was drawn up, were large piles of stones collected for building the new bridge, and with these the people attacked the cavalry. a party of french guards upon hearing the firing, rushed from their quarters and joined the people; and night coming on, the cavalry retreated. the streets of paris, being narrow, are favourable for defence, and the loftiness of the houses, consisting of many stories, from which great annoyance might be given, secured them against nocturnal enterprises; and the night was spent in providing themselves with every sort of weapon they could make or procure: guns, swords, blacksmiths' hammers, carpenters' axes, iron crows, pikes, halberts, pitchforks, spits, clubs, etc., etc. the incredible numbers in which they assembled the next morning, and the still more incredible resolution they exhibited, embarrassed and astonished their enemies. little did the new ministry expect such a salute. accustomed to slavery themselves, they had no idea that liberty was capable of such inspiration, or that a body of unarmed citizens would dare to face the military force of thirty thousand men. every moment of this day was employed in collecting arms, concerting plans, and arranging themselves into the best order which such an instantaneous movement could afford. broglio continued lying round the city, but made no further advances this day, and the succeeding night passed with as much tranquility as such a scene could possibly produce. but defence only was not the object of the citizens. they had a cause at stake, on which depended their freedom or their slavery. they every moment expected an attack, or to hear of one made on the national assembly; and in such a situation, the most prompt measures are sometimes the best. the object that now presented itself was the bastille; and the eclat of carrying such a fortress in the face of such an army, could not fail to strike terror into the new ministry, who had scarcely yet had time to meet. by some intercepted correspondence this morning, it was discovered that the mayor of paris, m. defflesselles, who appeared to be in the interest of the citizens, was betraying them; and from this discovery, there remained no doubt that broglio would reinforce the bastille the ensuing evening. it was therefore necessary to attack it that day; but before this could be done, it was first necessary to procure a better supply of arms than they were then possessed of. there was, adjoining to the city a large magazine of arms deposited at the hospital of the invalids, which the citizens summoned to surrender; and as the place was neither defensible, nor attempted much defence, they soon succeeded. thus supplied, they marched to attack the bastille; a vast mixed multitude of all ages, and of all degrees, armed with all sorts of weapons. imagination would fail in describing to itself the appearance of such a procession, and of the anxiety of the events which a few hours or a few minutes might produce. what plans the ministry were forming, were as unknown to the people within the city, as what the citizens were doing was unknown to the ministry; and what movements broglio might make for the support or relief of the place, were to the citizens equally as unknown. all was mystery and hazard. that the bastille was attacked with an enthusiasm of heroism, such only as the highest animation of liberty could inspire, and carried in the space of a few hours, is an event which the world is fully possessed of. i am not undertaking the detail of the attack, but bringing into view the conspiracy against the nation which provoked it, and which fell with the bastille. the prison to which the new ministry were dooming the national assembly, in addition to its being the high altar and castle of despotism, became the proper object to begin with. this enterprise broke up the new ministry, who began now to fly from the ruin they had prepared for others. the troops of broglio dispersed, and himself fled also. mr. burke has spoken a great deal about plots, but he has never once spoken of this plot against the national assembly, and the liberties of the nation; and that he might not, he has passed over all the circumstances that might throw it in his way. the exiles who have fled from france, whose case he so much interests himself in, and from whom he has had his lesson, fled in consequence of the miscarriage of this plot. no plot was formed against them; they were plotting against others; and those who fell, met, not unjustly, the punishment they were preparing to execute. but will mr. burke say that if this plot, contrived with the subtilty of an ambuscade, had succeeded, the successful party would have restrained their wrath so soon? let the history of all governments answer the question. whom has the national assembly brought to the scaffold? none. they were themselves the devoted victims of this plot, and they have not retaliated; why, then, are they charged with revenge they have not acted? in the tremendous breaking forth of a whole people, in which all degrees, tempers and characters are confounded, delivering themselves, by a miracle of exertion, from the destruction meditated against them, is it to be expected that nothing will happen? when men are sore with the sense of oppressions, and menaced with the prospects of new ones, is the calmness of philosophy or the palsy of insensibility to be looked for? mr. burke exclaims against outrage; yet the greatest is that which himself has committed. his book is a volume of outrage, not apologised for by the impulse of a moment, but cherished through a space of ten months; yet mr. burke had no provocation--no life, no interest, at stake. more of the citizens fell in this struggle than of their opponents: but four or five persons were seized by the populace, and instantly put to death; the governor of the bastille, and the mayor of paris, who was detected in the act of betraying them; and afterwards foulon, one of the new ministry, and berthier, his son-in-law, who had accepted the office of intendant of paris. their heads were stuck upon spikes, and carried about the city; and it is upon this mode of punishment that mr. burke builds a great part of his tragic scene. let us therefore examine how men came by the idea of punishing in this manner. they learn it from the governments they live under; and retaliate the punishments they have been accustomed to behold. the heads stuck upon spikes, which remained for years upon temple bar, differed nothing in the horror of the scene from those carried about upon spikes at paris; yet this was done by the english government. it may perhaps be said that it signifies nothing to a man what is done to him after he is dead; but it signifies much to the living; it either tortures their feelings or hardens their hearts, and in either case it instructs them how to punish when power falls into their hands. lay then the axe to the root, and teach governments humanity. it is their sanguinary punishments which corrupt mankind. in england the punishment in certain cases is by hanging, drawing and quartering; the heart of the sufferer is cut out and held up to the view of the populace. in france, under the former government, the punishments were not less barbarous. who does not remember the execution of damien, torn to pieces by horses? the effect of those cruel spectacles exhibited to the populace is to destroy tenderness or excite revenge; and by the base and false idea of governing men by terror, instead of reason, they become precedents. it is over the lowest class of mankind that government by terror is intended to operate, and it is on them that it operates to the worst effect. they have sense enough to feel they are the objects aimed at; and they inflict in their turn the examples of terror they have been instructed to practise. there is in all european countries a large class of people of that description, which in england is called the "mob." of this class were those who committed the burnings and devastations in london in , and of this class were those who carried the heads on iron spikes in paris. foulon and berthier were taken up in the country, and sent to paris, to undergo their examination at the hotel de ville; for the national assembly, immediately on the new ministry coming into office, passed a decree, which they communicated to the king and cabinet, that they (the national assembly) would hold the ministry, of which foulon was one, responsible for the measures they were advising and pursuing; but the mob, incensed at the appearance of foulon and berthier, tore them from their conductors before they were carried to the hotel de ville, and executed them on the spot. why then does mr. burke charge outrages of this kind on a whole people? as well may he charge the riots and outrages of on all the people of london, or those in ireland on all his countrymen. but everything we see or hear offensive to our feelings and derogatory to the human character should lead to other reflections than those of reproach. even the beings who commit them have some claim to our consideration. how then is it that such vast classes of mankind as are distinguished by the appellation of the vulgar, or the ignorant mob, are so numerous in all old countries? the instant we ask ourselves this question, reflection feels an answer. they rise, as an unavoidable consequence, out of the ill construction of all old governments in europe, england included with the rest. it is by distortedly exalting some men, that others are distortedly debased, till the whole is out of nature. a vast mass of mankind are degradedly thrown into the back-ground of the human picture, to bring forward, with greater glare, the puppet-show of state and aristocracy. in the commencement of a revolution, those men are rather the followers of the camp than of the standard of liberty, and have yet to be instructed how to reverence it. i give to mr. burke all his theatrical exaggerations for facts, and i then ask him if they do not establish the certainty of what i here lay down? admitting them to be true, they show the necessity of the french revolution, as much as any one thing he could have asserted. these outrages were not the effect of the principles of the revolution, but of the degraded mind that existed before the revolution, and which the revolution is calculated to reform. place them then to their proper cause, and take the reproach of them to your own side. it is the honour of the national assembly and the city of paris that, during such a tremendous scene of arms and confusion, beyond the control of all authority, they have been able, by the influence of example and exhortation, to restrain so much. never were more pains taken to instruct and enlighten mankind, and to make them see that their interest consisted in their virtue, and not in their revenge, than have been displayed in the revolution of france. i now proceed to make some remarks on mr. burke's account of the expedition to versailles, october the th and th. i can consider mr. burke's book in scarcely any other light than a dramatic performance; and he must, i think, have considered it in the same light himself, by the poetical liberties he has taken of omitting some facts, distorting others, and making the whole machinery bend to produce a stage effect. of this kind is his account of the expedition to versailles. he begins this account by omitting the only facts which as causes are known to be true; everything beyond these is conjecture, even in paris; and he then works up a tale accommodated to his own passions and prejudices. it is to be observed throughout mr. burke's book that he never speaks of plots against the revolution; and it is from those plots that all the mischiefs have arisen. it suits his purpose to exhibit the consequences without their causes. it is one of the arts of the drama to do so. if the crimes of men were exhibited with their sufferings, stage effect would sometimes be lost, and the audience would be inclined to approve where it was intended they should commiserate. after all the investigations that have been made into this intricate affair (the expedition to versailles), it still remains enveloped in all that kind of mystery which ever accompanies events produced more from a concurrence of awkward circumstances than from fixed design. while the characters of men are forming, as is always the case in revolutions, there is a reciprocal suspicion, and a disposition to misinterpret each other; and even parties directly opposite in principle will sometimes concur in pushing forward the same movement with very different views, and with the hopes of its producing very different consequences. a great deal of this may be discovered in this embarrassed affair, and yet the issue of the whole was what nobody had in view. the only things certainly known are that considerable uneasiness was at this time excited at paris by the delay of the king in not sanctioning and forwarding the decrees of the national assembly, particularly that of the declaration of the rights of man, and the decrees of the fourth of august, which contained the foundation principles on which the constitution was to be erected. the kindest, and perhaps the fairest conjecture upon this matter is, that some of the ministers intended to make remarks and observations upon certain parts of them before they were finally sanctioned and sent to the provinces; but be this as it may, the enemies of the revolution derived hope from the delay, and the friends of the revolution uneasiness. during this state of suspense, the garde du corps, which was composed as such regiments generally are, of persons much connected with the court, gave an entertainment at versailles (october ) to some foreign regiments then arrived; and when the entertainment was at the height, on a signal given, the garde du corps tore the national cockade from their hats, trampled it under foot, and replaced it with a counter-cockade prepared for the purpose. an indignity of this kind amounted to defiance. it was like declaring war; and if men will give challenges they must expect consequences. but all this mr. burke has carefully kept out of sight. he begins his account by saying: "history will record that on the morning of the th october, , the king and queen of france, after a day of confusion, alarm, dismay, and slaughter, lay down under the pledged security of public faith to indulge nature in a few hours of respite, and troubled melancholy repose." this is neither the sober style of history, nor the intention of it. it leaves everything to be guessed at and mistaken. one would at least think there had been a battle; and a battle there probably would have been had it not been for the moderating prudence of those whom mr. burke involves in his censures. by his keeping the garde du corps out of sight mr. burke has afforded himself the dramatic licence of putting the king and queen in their places, as if the object of the expedition was against them. but to return to my account this conduct of the garde du corps, as might well be expected, alarmed and enraged the partisans. the colors of the cause, and the cause itself, were become too united to mistake the intention of the insult, and the partisans were determined to call the garde du corps to an account. there was certainly nothing of the cowardice of assassination in marching in the face of the day to demand satisfaction, if such a phrase may be used, of a body of armed men who had voluntarily given defiance. but the circumstance which serves to throw this affair into embarrassment is, that the enemies of the revolution appear to have encouraged it as well as its friends. the one hoped to prevent a civil war by checking it in time, and the other to make one. the hopes of those opposed to the revolution rested in making the king of their party, and getting him from versailles to metz, where they expected to collect a force and set up a standard. we have, therefore, two different objects presenting themselves at the same time, and to be accomplished by the same means: the one to chastise the garde du corps, which was the object of the partisans; the other to render the confusion of such a scene an inducement to the king to set off for metz. on the th of october a very numerous body of women, and men in the disguise of women, collected around the hotel de ville or town-hall at paris, and set off for versailles. their professed object was the garde du corps; but prudent men readily recollect that mischief is more easily begun than ended; and this impressed itself with the more force from the suspicions already stated, and the irregularity of such a cavalcade. as soon, therefore, as a sufficient force could be collected, m. de la fayette, by orders from the civil authority of paris, set off after them at the head of twenty thousand of the paris militia. the revolution could derive no benefit from confusion, and its opposers might. by an amiable and spirited manner of address he had hitherto been fortunate in calming disquietudes, and in this he was extraordinarily successful; to frustrate, therefore, the hopes of those who might seek to improve this scene into a sort of justifiable necessity for the king's quitting versailles and withdrawing to metz, and to prevent at the same time the consequences that might ensue between the garde du corps and this phalanx of men and women, he forwarded expresses to the king, that he was on his march to versailles, by the orders of the civil authority of paris, for the purpose of peace and protection, expressing at the same time the necessity of restraining the garde du corps from firing upon the people.*[ ] he arrived at versailles between ten and eleven at night. the garde du corps was drawn up, and the people had arrived some time before, but everything had remained suspended. wisdom and policy now consisted in changing a scene of danger into a happy event. m. de la fayette became the mediator between the enraged parties; and the king, to remove the uneasiness which had arisen from the delay already stated, sent for the president of the national assembly, and signed the declaration of the rights of man, and such other parts of the constitution as were in readiness. it was now about one in the morning. everything appeared to be composed, and a general congratulation took place. by the beat of a drum a proclamation was made that the citizens of versailles would give the hospitality of their houses to their fellow-citizens of paris. those who could not be accommodated in this manner remained in the streets, or took up their quarters in the churches; and at two o'clock the king and queen retired. in this state matters passed till the break of day, when a fresh disturbance arose from the censurable conduct of some of both parties, for such characters there will be in all such scenes. one of the garde du corps appeared at one of the windows of the palace, and the people who had remained during the night in the streets accosted him with reviling and provocative language. instead of retiring, as in such a case prudence would have dictated, he presented his musket, fired, and killed one of the paris militia. the peace being thus broken, the people rushed into the palace in quest of the offender. they attacked the quarters of the garde du corps within the palace, and pursued them throughout the avenues of it, and to the apartments of the king. on this tumult, not the queen only, as mr. burke has represented it, but every person in the palace, was awakened and alarmed; and m. de la fayette had a second time to interpose between the parties, the event of which was that the garde du corps put on the national cockade, and the matter ended as by oblivion, after the loss of two or three lives. during the latter part of the time in which this confusion was acting, the king and queen were in public at the balcony, and neither of them concealed for safety's sake, as mr. burke insinuates. matters being thus appeased, and tranquility restored, a general acclamation broke forth of le roi a paris--le roi a paris--the king to paris. it was the shout of peace, and immediately accepted on the part of the king. by this measure all future projects of trapanning the king to metz, and setting up the standard of opposition to the constitution, were prevented, and the suspicions extinguished. the king and his family reached paris in the evening, and were congratulated on their arrival by m. bailly, the mayor of paris, in the name of the citizens. mr. burke, who throughout his book confounds things, persons, and principles, as in his remarks on m. bailly's address, confounded time also. he censures m. bailly for calling it "un bon jour," a good day. mr. burke should have informed himself that this scene took up the space of two days, the day on which it began with every appearance of danger and mischief, and the day on which it terminated without the mischiefs that threatened; and that it is to this peaceful termination that m. bailly alludes, and to the arrival of the king at paris. not less than three hundred thousand persons arranged themselves in the procession from versailles to paris, and not an act of molestation was committed during the whole march. mr. burke on the authority of m. lally tollendal, a deserter from the national assembly, says that on entering paris, the people shouted "tous les eveques a la lanterne." all bishops to be hanged at the lanthorn or lamp-posts. it is surprising that nobody could hear this but lally tollendal, and that nobody should believe it but mr. burke. it has not the least connection with any part of the transaction, and is totally foreign to every circumstance of it. the bishops had never been introduced before into any scene of mr. burke's drama: why then are they, all at once, and altogether, tout a coup, et tous ensemble, introduced now? mr. burke brings forward his bishops and his lanthorn-like figures in a magic lanthorn, and raises his scenes by contrast instead of connection. but it serves to show, with the rest of his book what little credit ought to be given where even probability is set at defiance, for the purpose of defaming; and with this reflection, instead of a soliloquy in praise of chivalry, as mr. burke has done, i close the account of the expedition to versailles.*[ ] i have now to follow mr. burke through a pathless wilderness of rhapsodies, and a sort of descant upon governments, in which he asserts whatever he pleases, on the presumption of its being believed, without offering either evidence or reasons for so doing. before anything can be reasoned upon to a conclusion, certain facts, principles, or data, to reason from, must be established, admitted, or denied. mr. burke with his usual outrage, abused the declaration of the rights of man, published by the national assembly of france, as the basis on which the constitution of france is built. this he calls "paltry and blurred sheets of paper about the rights of man." does mr. burke mean to deny that man has any rights? if he does, then he must mean that there are no such things as rights anywhere, and that he has none himself; for who is there in the world but man? but if mr. burke means to admit that man has rights, the question then will be: what are those rights, and how man came by them originally? the error of those who reason by precedents drawn from antiquity, respecting the rights of man, is that they do not go far enough into antiquity. they do not go the whole way. they stop in some of the intermediate stages of an hundred or a thousand years, and produce what was then done, as a rule for the present day. this is no authority at all. if we travel still farther into antiquity, we shall find a direct contrary opinion and practice prevailing; and if antiquity is to be authority, a thousand such authorities may be produced, successively contradicting each other; but if we proceed on, we shall at last come out right; we shall come to the time when man came from the hand of his maker. what was he then? man. man was his high and only title, and a higher cannot be given him. but of titles i shall speak hereafter. we are now got at the origin of man, and at the origin of his rights. as to the manner in which the world has been governed from that day to this, it is no farther any concern of ours than to make a proper use of the errors or the improvements which the history of it presents. those who lived an hundred or a thousand years ago, were then moderns, as we are now. they had their ancients, and those ancients had others, and we also shall be ancients in our turn. if the mere name of antiquity is to govern in the affairs of life, the people who are to live an hundred or a thousand years hence, may as well take us for a precedent, as we make a precedent of those who lived an hundred or a thousand years ago. the fact is, that portions of antiquity, by proving everything, establish nothing. it is authority against authority all the way, till we come to the divine origin of the rights of man at the creation. here our enquiries find a resting-place, and our reason finds a home. if a dispute about the rights of man had arisen at the distance of an hundred years from the creation, it is to this source of authority they must have referred, and it is to this same source of authority that we must now refer. though i mean not to touch upon any sectarian principle of religion, yet it may be worth observing, that the genealogy of christ is traced to adam. why then not trace the rights of man to the creation of man? i will answer the question. because there have been upstart governments, thrusting themselves between, and presumptuously working to un-make man. if any generation of men ever possessed the right of dictating the mode by which the world should be governed for ever, it was the first generation that existed; and if that generation did it not, no succeeding generation can show any authority for doing it, nor can set any up. the illuminating and divine principle of the equal rights of man (for it has its origin from the maker of man) relates, not only to the living individuals, but to generations of men succeeding each other. every generation is equal in rights to generations which preceded it, by the same rule that every individual is born equal in rights with his contemporary. every history of the creation, and every traditionary account, whether from the lettered or unlettered world, however they may vary in their opinion or belief of certain particulars, all agree in establishing one point, the unity of man; by which i mean that men are all of one degree, and consequently that all men are born equal, and with equal natural right, in the same manner as if posterity had been continued by creation instead of generation, the latter being the only mode by which the former is carried forward; and consequently every child born into the world must be considered as deriving its existence from god. the world is as new to him as it was to the first man that existed, and his natural right in it is of the same kind. the mosaic account of the creation, whether taken as divine authority or merely historical, is full to this point, the unity or equality of man. the expression admits of no controversy. "and god said, let us make man in our own image. in the image of god created he him; male and female created he them." the distinction of sexes is pointed out, but no other distinction is even implied. if this be not divine authority, it is at least historical authority, and shows that the equality of man, so far from being a modern doctrine, is the oldest upon record. it is also to be observed that all the religions known in the world are founded, so far as they relate to man, on the unity of man, as being all of one degree. whether in heaven or in hell, or in whatever state man may be supposed to exist hereafter, the good and the bad are the only distinctions. nay, even the laws of governments are obliged to slide into this principle, by making degrees to consist in crimes and not in persons. it is one of the greatest of all truths, and of the highest advantage to cultivate. by considering man in this light, and by instructing him to consider himself in this light, it places him in a close connection with all his duties, whether to his creator or to the creation, of which he is a part; and it is only when he forgets his origin, or, to use a more fashionable phrase, his birth and family, that he becomes dissolute. it is not among the least of the evils of the present existing governments in all parts of europe that man, considered as man, is thrown back to a vast distance from his maker, and the artificial chasm filled up with a succession of barriers, or sort of turnpike gates, through which he has to pass. i will quote mr. burke's catalogue of barriers that he has set up between man and his maker. putting himself in the character of a herald, he says: "we fear god--we look with awe to kings--with affection to parliaments with duty to magistrates--with reverence to priests, and with respect to nobility." mr. burke has forgotten to put in "'chivalry." he has also forgotten to put in peter. the duty of man is not a wilderness of turnpike gates, through which he is to pass by tickets from one to the other. it is plain and simple, and consists but of two points. his duty to god, which every man must feel; and with respect to his neighbor, to do as he would be done by. if those to whom power is delegated do well, they will be respected: if not, they will be despised; and with regard to those to whom no power is delegated, but who assume it, the rational world can know nothing of them. hitherto we have spoken only (and that but in part) of the natural rights of man. we have now to consider the civil rights of man, and to show how the one originates from the other. man did not enter into society to become worse than he was before, nor to have fewer rights than he had before, but to have those rights better secured. his natural rights are the foundation of all his civil rights. but in order to pursue this distinction with more precision, it will be necessary to mark the different qualities of natural and civil rights. a few words will explain this. natural rights are those which appertain to man in right of his existence. of this kind are all the intellectual rights, or rights of the mind, and also all those rights of acting as an individual for his own comfort and happiness, which are not injurious to the natural rights of others. civil rights are those which appertain to man in right of his being a member of society. every civil right has for its foundation some natural right pre-existing in the individual, but to the enjoyment of which his individual power is not, in all cases, sufficiently competent. of this kind are all those which relate to security and protection. from this short review it will be easy to distinguish between that class of natural rights which man retains after entering into society and those which he throws into the common stock as a member of society. the natural rights which he retains are all those in which the power to execute is as perfect in the individual as the right itself. among this class, as is before mentioned, are all the intellectual rights, or rights of the mind; consequently religion is one of those rights. the natural rights which are not retained, are all those in which, though the right is perfect in the individual, the power to execute them is defective. they answer not his purpose. a man, by natural right, has a right to judge in his own cause; and so far as the right of the mind is concerned, he never surrenders it. but what availeth it him to judge, if he has not power to redress? he therefore deposits this right in the common stock of society, and takes the ann of society, of which he is a part, in preference and in addition to his own. society grants him nothing. every man is a proprietor in society, and draws on the capital as a matter of right. from these premisses two or three certain conclusions will follow: first, that every civil right grows out of a natural right; or, in other words, is a natural right exchanged. secondly, that civil power properly considered as such is made up of the aggregate of that class of the natural rights of man, which becomes defective in the individual in point of power, and answers not his purpose, but when collected to a focus becomes competent to the purpose of every one. thirdly, that the power produced from the aggregate of natural rights, imperfect in power in the individual, cannot be applied to invade the natural rights which are retained in the individual, and in which the power to execute is as perfect as the right itself. we have now, in a few words, traced man from a natural individual to a member of society, and shown, or endeavoured to show, the quality of the natural rights retained, and of those which are exchanged for civil rights. let us now apply these principles to governments. in casting our eyes over the world, it is extremely easy to distinguish the governments which have arisen out of society, or out of the social compact, from those which have not; but to place this in a clearer light than what a single glance may afford, it will be proper to take a review of the several sources from which governments have arisen and on which they have been founded. they may be all comprehended under three heads. first, superstition. secondly, power. thirdly, the common interest of society and the common rights of man. the first was a government of priestcraft, the second of conquerors, and the third of reason. when a set of artful men pretended, through the medium of oracles, to hold intercourse with the deity, as familiarly as they now march up the back-stairs in european courts, the world was completely under the government of superstition. the oracles were consulted, and whatever they were made to say became the law; and this sort of government lasted as long as this sort of superstition lasted. after these a race of conquerors arose, whose government, like that of william the conqueror, was founded in power, and the sword assumed the name of a sceptre. governments thus established last as long as the power to support them lasts; but that they might avail themselves of every engine in their favor, they united fraud to force, and set up an idol which they called divine right, and which, in imitation of the pope, who affects to be spiritual and temporal, and in contradiction to the founder of the christian religion, twisted itself afterwards into an idol of another shape, called church and state. the key of st. peter and the key of the treasury became quartered on one another, and the wondering cheated multitude worshipped the invention. when i contemplate the natural dignity of man, when i feel (for nature has not been kind enough to me to blunt my feelings) for the honour and happiness of its character, i become irritated at the attempt to govern mankind by force and fraud, as if they were all knaves and fools, and can scarcely avoid disgust at those who are thus imposed upon. we have now to review the governments which arise out of society, in contradistinction to those which arose out of superstition and conquest. it has been thought a considerable advance towards establishing the principles of freedom to say that government is a compact between those who govern and those who are governed; but this cannot be true, because it is putting the effect before the cause; for as man must have existed before governments existed, there necessarily was a time when governments did not exist, and consequently there could originally exist no governors to form such a compact with. the fact therefore must be that the individuals themselves, each in his own personal and sovereign right, entered into a compact with each other to produce a government: and this is the only mode in which governments have a right to arise, and the only principle on which they have a right to exist. to possess ourselves of a clear idea of what government is, or ought to be, we must trace it to its origin. in doing this we shall easily discover that governments must have arisen either out of the people or over the people. mr. burke has made no distinction. he investigates nothing to its source, and therefore he confounds everything; but he has signified his intention of undertaking, at some future opportunity, a comparison between the constitution of england and france. as he thus renders it a subject of controversy by throwing the gauntlet, i take him upon his own ground. it is in high challenges that high truths have the right of appearing; and i accept it with the more readiness because it affords me, at the same time, an opportunity of pursuing the subject with respect to governments arising out of society. but it will be first necessary to define what is meant by a constitution. it is not sufficient that we adopt the word; we must fix also a standard signification to it. a constitution is not a thing in name only, but in fact. it has not an ideal, but a real existence; and wherever it cannot be produced in a visible form, there is none. a constitution is a thing antecedent to a government, and a government is only the creature of a constitution. the constitution of a country is not the act of its government, but of the people constituting its government. it is the body of elements, to which you can refer, and quote article by article; and which contains the principles on which the government shall be established, the manner in which it shall be organised, the powers it shall have, the mode of elections, the duration of parliaments, or by what other name such bodies may be called; the powers which the executive part of the government shall have; and in fine, everything that relates to the complete organisation of a civil government, and the principles on which it shall act, and by which it shall be bound. a constitution, therefore, is to a government what the laws made afterwards by that government are to a court of judicature. the court of judicature does not make the laws, neither can it alter them; it only acts in conformity to the laws made: and the government is in like manner governed by the constitution. can, then, mr. burke produce the english constitution? if he cannot, we may fairly conclude that though it has been so much talked about, no such thing as a constitution exists, or ever did exist, and consequently that the people have yet a constitution to form. mr. burke will not, i presume, deny the position i have already advanced--namely, that governments arise either out of the people or over the people. the english government is one of those which arose out of a conquest, and not out of society, and consequently it arose over the people; and though it has been much modified from the opportunity of circumstances since the time of william the conqueror, the country has never yet regenerated itself, and is therefore without a constitution. i readily perceive the reason why mr. burke declined going into the comparison between the english and french constitutions, because he could not but perceive, when he sat down to the task, that no such a thing as a constitution existed on his side the question. his book is certainly bulky enough to have contained all he could say on this subject, and it would have been the best manner in which people could have judged of their separate merits. why then has he declined the only thing that was worth while to write upon? it was the strongest ground he could take, if the advantages were on his side, but the weakest if they were not; and his declining to take it is either a sign that he could not possess it or could not maintain it. mr. burke said, in a speech last winter in parliament, "that when the national assembly first met in three orders (the tiers etat, the clergy, and the noblesse), france had then a good constitution." this shows, among numerous other instances, that mr. burke does not understand what a constitution is. the persons so met were not a constitution, but a convention, to make a constitution. the present national assembly of france is, strictly speaking, the personal social compact. the members of it are the delegates of the nation in its original character; future assemblies will be the delegates of the nation in its organised character. the authority of the present assembly is different from what the authority of future assemblies will be. the authority of the present one is to form a constitution; the authority of future assemblies will be to legislate according to the principles and forms prescribed in that constitution; and if experience should hereafter show that alterations, amendments, or additions are necessary, the constitution will point out the mode by which such things shall be done, and not leave it to the discretionary power of the future government. a government on the principles on which constitutional governments arising out of society are established, cannot have the right of altering itself. if it had, it would be arbitrary. it might make itself what it pleased; and wherever such a right is set up, it shows there is no constitution. the act by which the english parliament empowered itself to sit seven years, shows there is no constitution in england. it might, by the same self-authority, have sat any great number of years, or for life. the bill which the present mr. pitt brought into parliament some years ago, to reform parliament, was on the same erroneous principle. the right of reform is in the nation in its original character, and the constitutional method would be by a general convention elected for the purpose. there is, moreover, a paradox in the idea of vitiated bodies reforming themselves. from these preliminaries i proceed to draw some comparisons. i have already spoken of the declaration of rights; and as i mean to be as concise as possible, i shall proceed to other parts of the french constitution. the constitution of france says that every man who pays a tax of sixty sous per annum ( s. d. english) is an elector. what article will mr. burke place against this? can anything be more limited, and at the same time more capricious, than the qualification of electors is in england? limited--because not one man in an hundred (i speak much within compass) is admitted to vote. capricious--because the lowest character that can be supposed to exist, and who has not so much as the visible means of an honest livelihood, is an elector in some places: while in other places, the man who pays very large taxes, and has a known fair character, and the farmer who rents to the amount of three or four hundred pounds a year, with a property on that farm to three or four times that amount, is not admitted to be an elector. everything is out of nature, as mr. burke says on another occasion, in this strange chaos, and all sorts of follies are blended with all sorts of crimes. william the conqueror and his descendants parcelled out the country in this manner, and bribed some parts of it by what they call charters to hold the other parts of it the better subjected to their will. this is the reason why so many of those charters abound in cornwall; the people were averse to the government established at the conquest, and the towns were garrisoned and bribed to enslave the country. all the old charters are the badges of this conquest, and it is from this source that the capriciousness of election arises. the french constitution says that the number of representatives for any place shall be in a ratio to the number of taxable inhabitants or electors. what article will mr. burke place against this? the county of york, which contains nearly a million of souls, sends two county members; and so does the county of rutland, which contains not an hundredth part of that number. the old town of sarum, which contains not three houses, sends two members; and the town of manchester, which contains upward of sixty thousand souls, is not admitted to send any. is there any principle in these things? it is admitted that all this is altered, but there is much to be done yet, before we have a fair representation of the people. is there anything by which you can trace the marks of freedom, or discover those of wisdom? no wonder then mr. burke has declined the comparison, and endeavored to lead his readers from the point by a wild, unsystematical display of paradoxical rhapsodies. the french constitution says that the national assembly shall be elected every two years. what article will mr. burke place against this? why, that the nation has no right at all in the case; that the government is perfectly arbitrary with respect to this point; and he can quote for his authority the precedent of a former parliament. the french constitution says there shall be no game laws, that the farmer on whose lands wild game shall be found (for it is by the produce of his lands they are fed) shall have a right to what he can take; that there shall be no monopolies of any kind--that all trades shall be free and every man free to follow any occupation by which he can procure an honest livelihood, and in any place, town, or city throughout the nation. what will mr. burke say to this? in england, game is made the property of those at whose expense it is not fed; and with respect to monopolies, the country is cut up into monopolies. every chartered town is an aristocratical monopoly in itself, and the qualification of electors proceeds out of those chartered monopolies. is this freedom? is this what mr. burke means by a constitution? in these chartered monopolies, a man coming from another part of the country is hunted from them as if he were a foreign enemy. an englishman is not free of his own country; every one of those places presents a barrier in his way, and tells him he is not a freeman--that he has no rights. within these monopolies are other monopolies. in a city, such for instance as bath, which contains between twenty and thirty thousand inhabitants, the right of electing representatives to parliament is monopolised by about thirty-one persons. and within these monopolies are still others. a man even of the same town, whose parents were not in circumstances to give him an occupation, is debarred, in many cases, from the natural right of acquiring one, be his genius or industry what it may. are these things examples to hold out to a country regenerating itself from slavery, like france? certainly they are not, and certain am i, that when the people of england come to reflect upon them they will, like france, annihilate those badges of ancient oppression, those traces of a conquered nation. had mr. burke possessed talents similar to the author of "on the wealth of nations." he would have comprehended all the parts which enter into, and, by assemblage, form a constitution. he would have reasoned from minutiae to magnitude. it is not from his prejudices only, but from the disorderly cast of his genius, that he is unfitted for the subject he writes upon. even his genius is without a constitution. it is a genius at random, and not a genius constituted. but he must say something. he has therefore mounted in the air like a balloon, to draw the eyes of the multitude from the ground they stand upon. much is to be learned from the french constitution. conquest and tyranny transplanted themselves with william the conqueror from normandy into england, and the country is yet disfigured with the marks. may, then, the example of all france contribute to regenerate the freedom which a province of it destroyed! the french constitution says that to preserve the national representation from being corrupt, no member of the national assembly shall be an officer of the government, a placeman or a pensioner. what will mr. burke place against this? i will whisper his answer: loaves and fishes. ah! this government of loaves and fishes has more mischief in it than people have yet reflected on. the national assembly has made the discovery, and it holds out the example to the world. had governments agreed to quarrel on purpose to fleece their countries by taxes, they could not have succeeded better than they have done. everything in the english government appears to me the reverse of what it ought to be, and of what it is said to be. the parliament, imperfectly and capriciously elected as it is, is nevertheless supposed to hold the national purse in trust for the nation; but in the manner in which an english parliament is constructed it is like a man being both mortgagor and mortgagee, and in the case of misapplication of trust it is the criminal sitting in judgment upon himself. if those who vote the supplies are the same persons who receive the supplies when voted, and are to account for the expenditure of those supplies to those who voted them, it is themselves accountable to themselves, and the comedy of errors concludes with the pantomime of hush. neither the ministerial party nor the opposition will touch upon this case. the national purse is the common hack which each mounts upon. it is like what the country people call "ride and tie--you ride a little way, and then i."*[ ] they order these things better in france. the french constitution says that the right of war and peace is in the nation. where else should it reside but in those who are to pay the expense? in england this right is said to reside in a metaphor shown at the tower for sixpence or a shilling a piece: so are the lions; and it would be a step nearer to reason to say it resided in them, for any inanimate metaphor is no more than a hat or a cap. we can all see the absurdity of worshipping aaron's molten calf, or nebuchadnezzar's golden image; but why do men continue to practise themselves the absurdities they despise in others? it may with reason be said that in the manner the english nation is represented it signifies not where the right resides, whether in the crown or in the parliament. war is the common harvest of all those who participate in the division and expenditure of public money, in all countries. it is the art of conquering at home; the object of it is an increase of revenue; and as revenue cannot be increased without taxes, a pretence must be made for expenditure. in reviewing the history of the english government, its wars and its taxes, a bystander, not blinded by prejudice nor warped by interest, would declare that taxes were not raised to carry on wars, but that wars were raised to carry on taxes. mr. burke, as a member of the house of commons, is a part of the english government; and though he professes himself an enemy to war, he abuses the french constitution, which seeks to explode it. he holds up the english government as a model, in all its parts, to france; but he should first know the remarks which the french make upon it. they contend in favor of their own, that the portion of liberty enjoyed in england is just enough to enslave a country more productively than by despotism, and that as the real object of all despotism is revenue, a government so formed obtains more than it could do either by direct despotism, or in a full state of freedom, and is, therefore on the ground of interest, opposed to both. they account also for the readiness which always appears in such governments for engaging in wars by remarking on the different motives which produced them. in despotic governments wars are the effect of pride; but in those governments in which they become the means of taxation, they acquire thereby a more permanent promptitude. the french constitution, therefore, to provide against both these evils, has taken away the power of declaring war from kings and ministers, and placed the right where the expense must fall. when the question of the right of war and peace was agitating in the national assembly, the people of england appeared to be much interested in the event, and highly to applaud the decision. as a principle it applies as much to one country as another. william the conqueror, as a conqueror, held this power of war and peace in himself, and his descendants have ever since claimed it under him as a right. although mr. burke has asserted the right of the parliament at the revolution to bind and control the nation and posterity for ever, he denies at the same time that the parliament or the nation had any right to alter what he calls the succession of the crown in anything but in part, or by a sort of modification. by his taking this ground he throws the case back to the norman conquest, and by thus running a line of succession springing from william the conqueror to the present day, he makes it necessary to enquire who and what william the conqueror was, and where he came from, and into the origin, history and nature of what are called prerogatives. everything must have had a beginning, and the fog of time and antiquity should be penetrated to discover it. let, then, mr. burke bring forward his william of normandy, for it is to this origin that his argument goes. it also unfortunately happens, in running this line of succession, that another line parallel thereto presents itself, which is that if the succession runs in the line of the conquest, the nation runs in the line of being conquered, and it ought to rescue itself from this reproach. but it will perhaps be said that though the power of declaring war descends in the heritage of the conquest, it is held in check by the right of parliament to withhold the supplies. it will always happen when a thing is originally wrong that amendments do not make it right, and it often happens that they do as much mischief one way as good the other, and such is the case here, for if the one rashly declares war as a matter of right, and the other peremptorily withholds the supplies as a matter of right, the remedy becomes as bad, or worse, than the disease. the one forces the nation to a combat, and the other ties its hands; but the more probable issue is that the contest will end in a collusion between the parties, and be made a screen to both. on this question of war, three things are to be considered. first, the right of declaring it: secondly, the expense of supporting it: thirdly, the mode of conducting it after it is declared. the french constitution places the right where the expense must fall, and this union can only be in the nation. the mode of conducting it after it is declared, it consigns to the executive department. were this the case in all countries, we should hear but little more of wars. before i proceed to consider other parts of the french constitution, and by way of relieving the fatigue of argument, i will introduce an anecdote which i had from dr. franklin. while the doctor resided in france as minister from america, during the war, he had numerous proposals made to him by projectors of every country and of every kind, who wished to go to the land that floweth with milk and honey, america; and among the rest, there was one who offered himself to be king. he introduced his proposal to the doctor by letter, which is now in the hands of m. beaumarchais, of paris--stating, first, that as the americans had dismissed or sent away*[ ] their king, that they would want another. secondly, that himself was a norman. thirdly, that he was of a more ancient family than the dukes of normandy, and of a more honorable descent, his line having never been bastardised. fourthly, that there was already a precedent in england of kings coming out of normandy, and on these grounds he rested his offer, enjoining that the doctor would forward it to america. but as the doctor neither did this, nor yet sent him an answer, the projector wrote a second letter, in which he did not, it is true, threaten to go over and conquer america, but only with great dignity proposed that if his offer was not accepted, an acknowledgment of about l , might be made to him for his generosity! now, as all arguments respecting succession must necessarily connect that succession with some beginning, mr. burke's arguments on this subject go to show that there is no english origin of kings, and that they are descendants of the norman line in right of the conquest. it may, therefore, be of service to his doctrine to make this story known, and to inform him, that in case of that natural extinction to which all mortality is subject, kings may again be had from normandy, on more reasonable terms than william the conqueror; and consequently, that the good people of england, at the revolution of , might have done much better, had such a generous norman as this known their wants, and they had known his. the chivalric character which mr. burke so much admires, is certainly much easier to make a bargain with than a hard dealing dutchman. but to return to the matters of the constitution: the french constitution says, there shall be no titles; and, of consequence, all that class of equivocal generation which in some countries is called "aristocracy" and in others "nobility," is done away, and the peer is exalted into the man. titles are but nicknames, and every nickname is a title. the thing is perfectly harmless in itself, but it marks a sort of foppery in the human character, which degrades it. it reduces man into the diminutive of man in things which are great, and the counterfeit of women in things which are little. it talks about its fine blue ribbon like a girl, and shows its new garter like a child. a certain writer, of some antiquity, says: "when i was a child, i thought as a child; but when i became a man, i put away childish things." it is, properly, from the elevated mind of france that the folly of titles has fallen. it has outgrown the baby clothes of count and duke, and breeched itself in manhood. france has not levelled, it has exalted. it has put down the dwarf, to set up the man. the punyism of a senseless word like duke, count or earl has ceased to please. even those who possessed them have disowned the gibberish, and as they outgrew the rickets, have despised the rattle. the genuine mind of man, thirsting for its native home, society, contemns the gewgaws that separate him from it. titles are like circles drawn by the magician's wand, to contract the sphere of man's felicity. he lives immured within the bastille of a word, and surveys at a distance the envied life of man. is it, then, any wonder that titles should fall in france? is it not a greater wonder that they should be kept up anywhere? what are they? what is their worth, and "what is their amount?" when we think or speak of a judge or a general, we associate with it the ideas of office and character; we think of gravity in one and bravery in the other; but when we use the word merely as a title, no ideas associate with it. through all the vocabulary of adam there is not such an animal as a duke or a count; neither can we connect any certain ideas with the words. whether they mean strength or weakness, wisdom or folly, a child or a man, or the rider or the horse, is all equivocal. what respect then can be paid to that which describes nothing, and which means nothing? imagination has given figure and character to centaurs, satyrs, and down to all the fairy tribe; but titles baffle even the powers of fancy, and are a chimerical nondescript. but this is not all. if a whole country is disposed to hold them in contempt, all their value is gone, and none will own them. it is common opinion only that makes them anything, or nothing, or worse than nothing. there is no occasion to take titles away, for they take themselves away when society concurs to ridicule them. this species of imaginary consequence has visibly declined in every part of europe, and it hastens to its exit as the world of reason continues to rise. there was a time when the lowest class of what are called nobility was more thought of than the highest is now, and when a man in armour riding throughout christendom in quest of adventures was more stared at than a modern duke. the world has seen this folly fall, and it has fallen by being laughed at, and the farce of titles will follow its fate. the patriots of france have discovered in good time that rank and dignity in society must take a new ground. the old one has fallen through. it must now take the substantial ground of character, instead of the chimerical ground of titles; and they have brought their titles to the altar, and made of them a burnt-offering to reason. if no mischief had annexed itself to the folly of titles they would not have been worth a serious and formal destruction, such as the national assembly have decreed them; and this makes it necessary to enquire farther into the nature and character of aristocracy. that, then, which is called aristocracy in some countries and nobility in others arose out of the governments founded upon conquest. it was originally a military order for the purpose of supporting military government (for such were all governments founded in conquest); and to keep up a succession of this order for the purpose for which it was established, all the younger branches of those families were disinherited and the law of primogenitureship set up. the nature and character of aristocracy shows itself to us in this law. it is the law against every other law of nature, and nature herself calls for its destruction. establish family justice, and aristocracy falls. by the aristocratical law of primogenitureship, in a family of six children five are exposed. aristocracy has never more than one child. the rest are begotten to be devoured. they are thrown to the cannibal for prey, and the natural parent prepares the unnatural repast. as everything which is out of nature in man affects, more or less, the interest of society, so does this. all the children which the aristocracy disowns (which are all except the eldest) are, in general, cast like orphans on a parish, to be provided for by the public, but at a greater charge. unnecessary offices and places in governments and courts are created at the expense of the public to maintain them. with what kind of parental reflections can the father or mother contemplate their younger offspring? by nature they are children, and by marriage they are heirs; but by aristocracy they are bastards and orphans. they are the flesh and blood of their parents in the one line, and nothing akin to them in the other. to restore, therefore, parents to their children, and children to their parents relations to each other, and man to society--and to exterminate the monster aristocracy, root and branch--the french constitution has destroyed the law of primogenitureship. here then lies the monster; and mr. burke, if he pleases, may write its epitaph. hitherto we have considered aristocracy chiefly in one point of view. we have now to consider it in another. but whether we view it before or behind, or sideways, or any way else, domestically or publicly, it is still a monster. in france aristocracy had one feature less in its countenance than what it has in some other countries. it did not compose a body of hereditary legislators. it was not "a corporation of aristocracy," for such i have heard m. de la fayette describe an english house of peers. let us then examine the grounds upon which the french constitution has resolved against having such a house in france. because, in the first place, as is already mentioned, aristocracy is kept up by family tyranny and injustice. secondly. because there is an unnatural unfitness in an aristocracy to be legislators for a nation. their ideas of distributive justice are corrupted at the very source. they begin life by trampling on all their younger brothers and sisters, and relations of every kind, and are taught and educated so to do. with what ideas of justice or honour can that man enter a house of legislation, who absorbs in his own person the inheritance of a whole family of children or doles out to them some pitiful portion with the insolence of a gift? thirdly. because the idea of hereditary legislators is as inconsistent as that of hereditary judges, or hereditary juries; and as absurd as an hereditary mathematician, or an hereditary wise man; and as ridiculous as an hereditary poet laureate. fourthly. because a body of men, holding themselves accountable to nobody, ought not to be trusted by anybody. fifthly. because it is continuing the uncivilised principle of governments founded in conquest, and the base idea of man having property in man, and governing him by personal right. sixthly. because aristocracy has a tendency to deteriorate the human species. by the universal economy of nature it is known, and by the instance of the jews it is proved, that the human species has a tendency to degenerate, in any small number of persons, when separated from the general stock of society, and inter-marrying constantly with each other. it defeats even its pretended end, and becomes in time the opposite of what is noble in man. mr. burke talks of nobility; let him show what it is. the greatest characters the world have known have arisen on the democratic floor. aristocracy has not been able to keep a proportionate pace with democracy. the artificial noble shrinks into a dwarf before the noble of nature; and in the few instances of those (for there are some in all countries) in whom nature, as by a miracle, has survived in aristocracy, those men despise it.--but it is time to proceed to a new subject. the french constitution has reformed the condition of the clergy. it has raised the income of the lower and middle classes, and taken from the higher. none are now less than twelve hundred livres (fifty pounds sterling), nor any higher than two or three thousand pounds. what will mr. burke place against this? hear what he says. he says: "that the people of england can see without pain or grudging, an archbishop precede a duke; they can see a bishop of durham, or a bishop of winchester in possession of l , a-year; and cannot see why it is in worse hands than estates to a like amount, in the hands of this earl or that squire." and mr. burke offers this as an example to france. as to the first part, whether the archbishop precedes the duke, or the duke the bishop, it is, i believe, to the people in general, somewhat like sternhold and hopkins, or hopkins and sternhold; you may put which you please first; and as i confess that i do not understand the merits of this case, i will not contest it with mr. burke. but with respect to the latter, i have something to say. mr. burke has not put the case right. the comparison is out of order, by being put between the bishop and the earl or the squire. it ought to be put between the bishop and the curate, and then it will stand thus:--"the people of england can see without pain or grudging, a bishop of durham, or a bishop of winchester, in possession of ten thousand pounds a-year, and a curate on thirty or forty pounds a-year, or less." no, sir, they certainly do not see those things without great pain or grudging. it is a case that applies itself to every man's sense of justice, and is one among many that calls aloud for a constitution. in france the cry of "the church! the church!" was repeated as often as in mr. burke's book, and as loudly as when the dissenters' bill was before the english parliament; but the generality of the french clergy were not to be deceived by this cry any longer. they knew that whatever the pretence might be, it was they who were one of the principal objects of it. it was the cry of the high beneficed clergy, to prevent any regulation of income taking place between those of ten thousand pounds a-year and the parish priest. they therefore joined their case to those of every other oppressed class of men, and by this union obtained redress. the french constitution has abolished tythes, that source of perpetual discontent between the tythe-holder and the parishioner. when land is held on tythe, it is in the condition of an estate held between two parties; the one receiving one-tenth, and the other nine-tenths of the produce: and consequently, on principles of equity, if the estate can be improved, and made to produce by that improvement double or treble what it did before, or in any other ratio, the expense of such improvement ought to be borne in like proportion between the parties who are to share the produce. but this is not the case in tythes: the farmer bears the whole expense, and the tythe-holder takes a tenth of the improvement, in addition to the original tenth, and by this means gets the value of two-tenths instead of one. this is another case that calls for a constitution. the french constitution hath abolished or renounced toleration and intolerance also, and hath established universal right of conscience. toleration is not the opposite of intolerance, but is the counterfeit of it. both are despotisms. the one assumes to itself the right of withholding liberty of conscience, and the other of granting it. the one is the pope armed with fire and faggot, and the other is the pope selling or granting indulgences. the former is church and state, and the latter is church and traffic. but toleration may be viewed in a much stronger light. man worships not himself, but his maker; and the liberty of conscience which he claims is not for the service of himself, but of his god. in this case, therefore, we must necessarily have the associated idea of two things; the mortal who renders the worship, and the immortal being who is worshipped. toleration, therefore, places itself, not between man and man, nor between church and church, nor between one denomination of religion and another, but between god and man; between the being who worships, and the being who is worshipped; and by the same act of assumed authority which it tolerates man to pay his worship, it presumptuously and blasphemously sets itself up to tolerate the almighty to receive it. were a bill brought into any parliament, entitled, "an act to tolerate or grant liberty to the almighty to receive the worship of a jew or turk," or "to prohibit the almighty from receiving it," all men would startle and call it blasphemy. there would be an uproar. the presumption of toleration in religious matters would then present itself unmasked; but the presumption is not the less because the name of "man" only appears to those laws, for the associated idea of the worshipper and the worshipped cannot be separated. who then art thou, vain dust and ashes! by whatever name thou art called, whether a king, a bishop, a church, or a state, a parliament, or anything else, that obtrudest thine insignificance between the soul of man and its maker? mind thine own concerns. if he believes not as thou believest, it is a proof that thou believest not as he believes, and there is no earthly power can determine between you. with respect to what are called denominations of religion, if every one is left to judge of its own religion, there is no such thing as a religion that is wrong; but if they are to judge of each other's religion, there is no such thing as a religion that is right; and therefore all the world is right, or all the world is wrong. but with respect to religion itself, without regard to names, and as directing itself from the universal family of mankind to the divine object of all adoration, it is man bringing to his maker the fruits of his heart; and though those fruits may differ from each other like the fruits of the earth, the grateful tribute of every one is accepted. a bishop of durham, or a bishop of winchester, or the archbishop who heads the dukes, will not refuse a tythe-sheaf of wheat because it is not a cock of hay, nor a cock of hay because it is not a sheaf of wheat; nor a pig, because it is neither one nor the other; but these same persons, under the figure of an established church, will not permit their maker to receive the varied tythes of man's devotion. one of the continual choruses of mr. burke's book is "church and state." he does not mean some one particular church, or some one particular state, but any church and state; and he uses the term as a general figure to hold forth the political doctrine of always uniting the church with the state in every country, and he censures the national assembly for not having done this in france. let us bestow a few thoughts on this subject. all religions are in their nature kind and benign, and united with principles of morality. they could not have made proselytes at first by professing anything that was vicious, cruel, persecuting, or immoral. like everything else, they had their beginning; and they proceeded by persuasion, exhortation, and example. how then is it that they lose their native mildness, and become morose and intolerant? it proceeds from the connection which mr. burke recommends. by engendering the church with the state, a sort of mule-animal, capable only of destroying, and not of breeding up, is produced, called the church established by law. it is a stranger, even from its birth, to any parent mother, on whom it is begotten, and whom in time it kicks out and destroys. the inquisition in spain does not proceed from the religion originally professed, but from this mule-animal, engendered between the church and the state. the burnings in smithfield proceeded from the same heterogeneous production; and it was the regeneration of this strange animal in england afterwards, that renewed rancour and irreligion among the inhabitants, and that drove the people called quakers and dissenters to america. persecution is not an original feature in any religion; but it is alway the strongly-marked feature of all law-religions, or religions established by law. take away the law-establishment, and every religion re-assumes its original benignity. in america, a catholic priest is a good citizen, a good character, and a good neighbour; an episcopalian minister is of the same description: and this proceeds independently of the men, from there being no law-establishment in america. if also we view this matter in a temporal sense, we shall see the ill effects it has had on the prosperity of nations. the union of church and state has impoverished spain. the revoking the edict of nantes drove the silk manufacture from that country into england; and church and state are now driving the cotton manufacture from england to america and france. let then mr. burke continue to preach his antipolitical doctrine of church and state. it will do some good. the national assembly will not follow his advice, but will benefit by his folly. it was by observing the ill effects of it in england, that america has been warned against it; and it is by experiencing them in france, that the national assembly have abolished it, and, like america, have established universal right of conscience, and universal right of citizenship.*[ ] i will here cease the comparison with respect to the principles of the french constitution, and conclude this part of the subject with a few observations on the organisation of the formal parts of the french and english governments. the executive power in each country is in the hands of a person styled the king; but the french constitution distinguishes between the king and the sovereign: it considers the station of king as official, and places sovereignty in the nation. the representatives of the nation, who compose the national assembly, and who are the legislative power, originate in and from the people by election, as an inherent right in the people.--in england it is otherwise; and this arises from the original establishment of what is called its monarchy; for, as by the conquest all the rights of the people or the nation were absorbed into the hands of the conqueror, and who added the title of king to that of conqueror, those same matters which in france are now held as rights in the people, or in the nation, are held in england as grants from what is called the crown. the parliament in england, in both its branches, was erected by patents from the descendants of the conqueror. the house of commons did not originate as a matter of right in the people to delegate or elect, but as a grant or boon. by the french constitution the nation is always named before the king. the third article of the declaration of rights says: "the nation is essentially the source (or fountain) of all sovereignty." mr. burke argues that in england a king is the fountain--that he is the fountain of all honour. but as this idea is evidently descended from the conquest i shall make no other remark upon it, than that it is the nature of conquest to turn everything upside down; and as mr. burke will not be refused the privilege of speaking twice, and as there are but two parts in the figure, the fountain and the spout, he will be right the second time. the french constitution puts the legislative before the executive, the law before the king; la loi, le roi. this also is in the natural order of things, because laws must have existence before they can have execution. a king in france does not, in addressing himself to the national assembly, say, "my assembly," similar to the phrase used in england of my "parliament"; neither can he use it consistently with the constitution, nor could it be admitted. there may be propriety in the use of it in england, because as is before mentioned, both houses of parliament originated from what is called the crown by patent or boon--and not from the inherent rights of the people, as the national assembly does in france, and whose name designates its origin. the president of the national assembly does not ask the king to grant to the assembly liberty of speech, as is the case with the english house of commons. the constitutional dignity of the national assembly cannot debase itself. speech is, in the first place, one of the natural rights of man always retained; and with respect to the national assembly the use of it is their duty, and the nation is their authority. they were elected by the greatest body of men exercising the right of election the european world ever saw. they sprung not from the filth of rotten boroughs, nor are they the vassal representatives of aristocratical ones. feeling the proper dignity of their character they support it. their parliamentary language, whether for or against a question, is free, bold and manly, and extends to all the parts and circumstances of the case. if any matter or subject respecting the executive department or the person who presides in it (the king) comes before them it is debated on with the spirit of men, and in the language of gentlemen; and their answer or their address is returned in the same style. they stand not aloof with the gaping vacuity of vulgar ignorance, nor bend with the cringe of sycophantic insignificance. the graceful pride of truth knows no extremes, and preserves, in every latitude of life, the right-angled character of man. let us now look to the other side of the question. in the addresses of the english parliaments to their kings we see neither the intrepid spirit of the old parliaments of france, nor the serene dignity of the present national assembly; neither do we see in them anything of the style of english manners, which border somewhat on bluntness. since then they are neither of foreign extraction, nor naturally of english production, their origin must be sought for elsewhere, and that origin is the norman conquest. they are evidently of the vassalage class of manners, and emphatically mark the prostrate distance that exists in no other condition of men than between the conqueror and the conquered. that this vassalage idea and style of speaking was not got rid of even at the revolution of , is evident from the declaration of parliament to william and mary in these words: "we do most humbly and faithfully submit ourselves, our heirs and posterities, for ever." submission is wholly a vassalage term, repugnant to the dignity of freedom, and an echo of the language used at the conquest. as the estimation of all things is given by comparison, the revolution of , however from circumstances it may have been exalted beyond its value, will find its level. it is already on the wane, eclipsed by the enlarging orb of reason, and the luminous revolutions of america and france. in less than another century it will go, as well as mr. burke's labours, "to the family vault of all the capulets." mankind will then scarcely believe that a country calling itself free would send to holland for a man, and clothe him with power on purpose to put themselves in fear of him, and give him almost a million sterling a year for leave to submit themselves and their posterity, like bondmen and bondwomen, for ever. but there is a truth that ought to be made known; i have had the opportunity of seeing it; which is, that notwithstanding appearances, there is not any description of men that despise monarchy so much as courtiers. but they well know, that if it were seen by others, as it is seen by them, the juggle could not be kept up; they are in the condition of men who get their living by a show, and to whom the folly of that show is so familiar that they ridicule it; but were the audience to be made as wise in this respect as themselves, there would be an end to the show and the profits with it. the difference between a republican and a courtier with respect to monarchy, is that the one opposes monarchy, believing it to be something; and the other laughs at it, knowing it to be nothing. as i used sometimes to correspond with mr. burke believing him then to be a man of sounder principles than his book shows him to be, i wrote to him last winter from paris, and gave him an account how prosperously matters were going on. among other subjects in that letter, i referred to the happy situation the national assembly were placed in; that they had taken ground on which their moral duty and their political interest were united. they have not to hold out a language which they do not themselves believe, for the fraudulent purpose of making others believe it. their station requires no artifice to support it, and can only be maintained by enlightening mankind. it is not their interest to cherish ignorance, but to dispel it. they are not in the case of a ministerial or an opposition party in england, who, though they are opposed, are still united to keep up the common mystery. the national assembly must throw open a magazine of light. it must show man the proper character of man; and the nearer it can bring him to that standard, the stronger the national assembly becomes. in contemplating the french constitution, we see in it a rational order of things. the principles harmonise with the forms, and both with their origin. it may perhaps be said as an excuse for bad forms, that they are nothing more than forms; but this is a mistake. forms grow out of principles, and operate to continue the principles they grow from. it is impossible to practise a bad form on anything but a bad principle. it cannot be ingrafted on a good one; and wherever the forms in any government are bad, it is a certain indication that the principles are bad also. i will here finally close this subject. i began it by remarking that mr. burke had voluntarily declined going into a comparison of the english and french constitutions. he apologises (in page ) for not doing it, by saying that he had not time. mr. burke's book was upwards of eight months in hand, and is extended to a volume of three hundred and sixty-six pages. as his omission does injury to his cause, his apology makes it worse; and men on the english side of the water will begin to consider, whether there is not some radical defect in what is called the english constitution, that made it necessary for mr. burke to suppress the comparison, to avoid bringing it into view. as mr. burke has not written on constitutions so neither has he written on the french revolution. he gives no account of its commencement or its progress. he only expresses his wonder. "it looks," says he, "to me, as if i were in a great crisis, not of the affairs of france alone, but of all europe, perhaps of more than europe. all circumstances taken together, the french revolution is the most astonishing that has hitherto happened in the world." as wise men are astonished at foolish things, and other people at wise ones, i know not on which ground to account for mr. burke's astonishment; but certain it is, that he does not understand the french revolution. it has apparently burst forth like a creation from a chaos, but it is no more than the consequence of a mental revolution priorily existing in france. the mind of the nation had changed beforehand, and the new order of things has naturally followed the new order of thoughts. i will here, as concisely as i can, trace out the growth of the french revolution, and mark the circumstances that have contributed to produce it. the despotism of louis xiv., united with the gaiety of his court, and the gaudy ostentation of his character, had so humbled, and at the same time so fascinated the mind of france, that the people appeared to have lost all sense of their own dignity, in contemplating that of their grand monarch; and the whole reign of louis xv., remarkable only for weakness and effeminacy, made no other alteration than that of spreading a sort of lethargy over the nation, from which it showed no disposition to rise. the only signs which appeared to the spirit of liberty during those periods, are to be found in the writings of the french philosophers. montesquieu, president of the parliament of bordeaux, went as far as a writer under a despotic government could well proceed; and being obliged to divide himself between principle and prudence, his mind often appears under a veil, and we ought to give him credit for more than he has expressed. voltaire, who was both the flatterer and the satirist of despotism, took another line. his forte lay in exposing and ridiculing the superstitions which priest-craft, united with state-craft, had interwoven with governments. it was not from the purity of his principles, or his love of mankind (for satire and philanthropy are not naturally concordant), but from his strong capacity of seeing folly in its true shape, and his irresistible propensity to expose it, that he made those attacks. they were, however, as formidable as if the motive had been virtuous; and he merits the thanks rather than the esteem of mankind. on the contrary, we find in the writings of rousseau, and the abbe raynal, a loveliness of sentiment in favour of liberty, that excites respect, and elevates the human faculties; but having raised this animation, they do not direct its operation, and leave the mind in love with an object, without describing the means of possessing it. the writings of quesnay, turgot, and the friends of those authors, are of the serious kind; but they laboured under the same disadvantage with montesquieu; their writings abound with moral maxims of government, but are rather directed to economise and reform the administration of the government, than the government itself. but all those writings and many others had their weight; and by the different manner in which they treated the subject of government, montesquieu by his judgment and knowledge of laws, voltaire by his wit, rousseau and raynal by their animation, and quesnay and turgot by their moral maxims and systems of economy, readers of every class met with something to their taste, and a spirit of political inquiry began to diffuse itself through the nation at the time the dispute between england and the then colonies of america broke out. in the war which france afterwards engaged in, it is very well known that the nation appeared to be before-hand with the french ministry. each of them had its view; but those views were directed to different objects; the one sought liberty, and the other retaliation on england. the french officers and soldiers who after this went to america, were eventually placed in the school of freedom, and learned the practice as well as the principles of it by heart. as it was impossible to separate the military events which took place in america from the principles of the american revolution, the publication of those events in france necessarily connected themselves with the principles which produced them. many of the facts were in themselves principles; such as the declaration of american independence, and the treaty of alliance between france and america, which recognised the natural rights of man, and justified resistance to oppression. the then minister of france, count vergennes, was not the friend of america; and it is both justice and gratitude to say, that it was the queen of france who gave the cause of america a fashion at the french court. count vergennes was the personal and social friend of dr. franklin; and the doctor had obtained, by his sensible gracefulness, a sort of influence over him; but with respect to principles count vergennes was a despot. the situation of dr. franklin, as minister from america to france, should be taken into the chain of circumstances. the diplomatic character is of itself the narrowest sphere of society that man can act in. it forbids intercourse by the reciprocity of suspicion; and a diplomatic is a sort of unconnected atom, continually repelling and repelled. but this was not the case with dr. franklin. he was not the diplomatic of a court, but of man. his character as a philosopher had been long established, and his circle of society in france was universal. count vergennes resisted for a considerable time the publication in france of american constitutions, translated into the french language: but even in this he was obliged to give way to public opinion, and a sort of propriety in admitting to appear what he had undertaken to defend. the american constitutions were to liberty what a grammar is to language: they define its parts of speech, and practically construct them into syntax. the peculiar situation of the then marquis de la fayette is another link in the great chain. he served in america as an american officer under a commission of congress, and by the universality of his acquaintance was in close friendship with the civil government of america, as well as with the military line. he spoke the language of the country, entered into the discussions on the principles of government, and was always a welcome friend at any election. when the war closed, a vast reinforcement to the cause of liberty spread itself over france, by the return of the french officers and soldiers. a knowledge of the practice was then joined to the theory; and all that was wanting to give it real existence was opportunity. man cannot, properly speaking, make circumstances for his purpose, but he always has it in his power to improve them when they occur, and this was the case in france. m. neckar was displaced in may, ; and by the ill-management of the finances afterwards, and particularly during the extravagant administration of m. calonne, the revenue of france, which was nearly twenty-four millions sterling per year, was become unequal to the expenditure, not because the revenue had decreased, but because the expenses had increased; and this was a circumstance which the nation laid hold of to bring forward a revolution. the english minister, mr. pitt, has frequently alluded to the state of the french finances in his budgets, without understanding the subject. had the french parliaments been as ready to register edicts for new taxes as an english parliament is to grant them, there had been no derangement in the finances, nor yet any revolution; but this will better explain itself as i proceed. it will be necessary here to show how taxes were formerly raised in france. the king, or rather the court or ministry acting under the use of that name, framed the edicts for taxes at their own discretion, and sent them to the parliaments to be registered; for until they were registered by the parliaments they were not operative. disputes had long existed between the court and the parliaments with respect to the extent of the parliament's authority on this head. the court insisted that the authority of parliaments went no farther than to remonstrate or show reasons against the tax, reserving to itself the right of determining whether the reasons were well or ill-founded; and in consequence thereof, either to withdraw the edict as a matter of choice, or to order it to be unregistered as a matter of authority. the parliaments on their part insisted that they had not only a right to remonstrate, but to reject; and on this ground they were always supported by the nation. but to return to the order of my narrative. m. calonne wanted money: and as he knew the sturdy disposition of the parliaments with respect to new taxes, he ingeniously sought either to approach them by a more gentle means than that of direct authority, or to get over their heads by a manoeuvre; and for this purpose he revived the project of assembling a body of men from the several provinces, under the style of an "assembly of the notables," or men of note, who met in , and who were either to recommend taxes to the parliaments, or to act as a parliament themselves. an assembly under this name had been called in . as we are to view this as the first practical step towards the revolution, it will be proper to enter into some particulars respecting it. the assembly of the notables has in some places been mistaken for the states-general, but was wholly a different body, the states-general being always by election. the persons who composed the assembly of the notables were all nominated by the king, and consisted of one hundred and forty members. but as m. calonne could not depend upon a majority of this assembly in his favour, he very ingeniously arranged them in such a manner as to make forty-four a majority of one hundred and forty; to effect this he disposed of them into seven separate committees, of twenty members each. every general question was to be decided, not by a majority of persons, but by a majority of committee, and as eleven votes would make a majority in a committee, and four committees a majority of seven, m. calonne had good reason to conclude that as forty-four would determine any general question he could not be outvoted. but all his plans deceived him, and in the event became his overthrow. the then marquis de la fayette was placed in the second committee, of which the count d'artois was president, and as money matters were the object, it naturally brought into view every circumstance connected with it. m. de la fayette made a verbal charge against calonne for selling crown lands to the amount of two millions of livres, in a manner that appeared to be unknown to the king. the count d'artois (as if to intimidate, for the bastille was then in being) asked the marquis if he would render the charge in writing? he replied that he would. the count d'artois did not demand it, but brought a message from the king to that purport. m. de la fayette then delivered in his charge in writing, to be given to the king, undertaking to support it. no farther proceedings were had upon this affair, but m. calonne was soon after dismissed by the king and set off to england. as m. de la fayette, from the experience of what he had seen in america, was better acquainted with the science of civil government than the generality of the members who composed the assembly of the notables could then be, the brunt of the business fell considerably to his share. the plan of those who had a constitution in view was to contend with the court on the ground of taxes, and some of them openly professed their object. disputes frequently arose between count d'artois and m. de la fayette upon various subjects. with respect to the arrears already incurred the latter proposed to remedy them by accommodating the expenses to the revenue instead of the revenue to the expenses; and as objects of reform he proposed to abolish the bastille and all the state prisons throughout the nation (the keeping of which was attended with great expense), and to suppress lettres de cachet; but those matters were not then much attended to, and with respect to lettres de cachet, a majority of the nobles appeared to be in favour of them. on the subject of supplying the treasury by new taxes the assembly declined taking the matter on themselves, concurring in the opinion that they had not authority. in a debate on this subject m. de la fayette said that raising money by taxes could only be done by a national assembly, freely elected by the people, and acting as their representatives. do you mean, said the count d'artois, the states-general? m. de la fayette replied that he did. will you, said the count d'artois, sign what you say to be given to the king? the other replied that he would not only do this but that he would go farther, and say that the effectual mode would be for the king to agree to the establishment of a constitution. as one of the plans had thus failed, that of getting the assembly to act as a parliament, the other came into view, that of recommending. on this subject the assembly agreed to recommend two new taxes to be unregistered by the parliament: the one a stamp-tax and the other a territorial tax, or sort of land-tax. the two have been estimated at about five millions sterling per annum. we have now to turn our attention to the parliaments, on whom the business was again devolving. the archbishop of thoulouse (since archbishop of sens, and now a cardinal), was appointed to the administration of the finances soon after the dismission of calonne. he was also made prime minister, an office that did not always exist in france. when this office did not exist, the chief of each of the principal departments transacted business immediately with the king, but when a prime minister was appointed they did business only with him. the archbishop arrived to more state authority than any minister since the duke de choiseul, and the nation was strongly disposed in his favour; but by a line of conduct scarcely to be accounted for he perverted every opportunity, turned out a despot, and sunk into disgrace, and a cardinal. the assembly of the notables having broken up, the minister sent the edicts for the two new taxes recommended by the assembly to the parliaments to be unregistered. they of course came first before the parliament of paris, who returned for answer: "that with such a revenue as the nation then supported the name of taxes ought not to be mentioned but for the purpose of reducing them"; and threw both the edicts out.*[ ] on this refusal the parliament was ordered to versailles, where, in the usual form, the king held what under the old government was called a bed of justice; and the two edicts were unregistered in presence of the parliament by an order of state, in the manner mentioned, earlier. on this the parliament immediately returned to paris, renewed their session in form, and ordered the enregistering to be struck out, declaring that everything done at versailles was illegal. all the members of the parliament were then served with lettres de cachet, and exiled to troyes; but as they continued as inflexible in exile as before, and as vengeance did not supply the place of taxes, they were after a short time recalled to paris. the edicts were again tendered to them, and the count d'artois undertook to act as representative of the king. for this purpose he came from versailles to paris, in a train of procession; and the parliament were assembled to receive him. but show and parade had lost their influence in france; and whatever ideas of importance he might set off with, he had to return with those of mortification and disappointment. on alighting from his carriage to ascend the steps of the parliament house, the crowd (which was numerously collected) threw out trite expressions, saying: "this is monsieur d'artois, who wants more of our money to spend." the marked disapprobation which he saw impressed him with apprehensions, and the word aux armes! (to arms!) was given out by the officer of the guard who attended him. it was so loudly vociferated, that it echoed through the avenues of the house, and produced a temporary confusion. i was then standing in one of the apartments through which he had to pass, and could not avoid reflecting how wretched was the condition of a disrespected man. he endeavoured to impress the parliament by great words, and opened his authority by saying, "the king, our lord and master." the parliament received him very coolly, and with their usual determination not to register the taxes: and in this manner the interview ended. after this a new subject took place: in the various debates and contests which arose between the court and the parliaments on the subject of taxes, the parliament of paris at last declared that although it had been customary for parliaments to enregister edicts for taxes as a matter of convenience, the right belonged only to the states-general; and that, therefore, the parliament could no longer with propriety continue to debate on what it had not authority to act. the king after this came to paris and held a meeting with the parliament, in which he continued from ten in the morning till about six in the evening, and, in a manner that appeared to proceed from him as if unconsulted upon with the cabinet or ministry, gave his word to the parliament that the states-general should be convened. but after this another scene arose, on a ground different from all the former. the minister and the cabinet were averse to calling the states-general. they well knew that if the states-general were assembled, themselves must fall; and as the king had not mentioned any time, they hit on a project calculated to elude, without appearing to oppose. for this purpose, the court set about making a sort of constitution itself. it was principally the work of m. lamoignon, the keeper of the seals, who afterwards shot himself. this new arrangement consisted in establishing a body under the name of a cour pleniere, or full court, in which were invested all the powers that the government might have occasion to make use of. the persons composing this court were to be nominated by the king; the contended right of taxation was given up on the part of the king, and a new criminal code of laws and law proceedings was substituted in the room of the former. the thing, in many points, contained better principles than those upon which the government had hitherto been administered; but with respect to the cour pleniere, it was no other than a medium through which despotism was to pass, without appearing to act directly from itself. the cabinet had high expectations from their new contrivance. the people who were to compose the cour pleniere were already nominated; and as it was necessary to carry a fair appearance, many of the best characters in the nation were appointed among the number. it was to commence on may , ; but an opposition arose to it on two grounds the one as to principle, the other as to form. on the ground of principle it was contended that government had not a right to alter itself, and that if the practice was once admitted it would grow into a principle and be made a precedent for any future alterations the government might wish to establish: that the right of altering the government was a national right, and not a right of government. and on the ground of form it was contended that the cour pleniere was nothing more than a larger cabinet. the then duke de la rochefoucault, luxembourg, de noailles, and many others, refused to accept the nomination, and strenuously opposed the whole plan. when the edict for establishing this new court was sent to the parliaments to be unregistered and put into execution, they resisted also. the parliament of paris not only refused, but denied the authority; and the contest renewed itself between the parliament and the cabinet more strongly than ever. while the parliament were sitting in debate on this subject, the ministry ordered a regiment of soldiers to surround the house and form a blockade. the members sent out for beds and provisions, and lived as in a besieged citadel: and as this had no effect, the commanding officer was ordered to enter the parliament house and seize them, which he did, and some of the principal members were shut up in different prisons. about the same time a deputation of persons arrived from the province of brittany to remonstrate against the establishment of the cour pleniere, and those the archbishop sent to the bastille. but the spirit of the nation was not to be overcome, and it was so fully sensible of the strong ground it had taken--that of withholding taxes--that it contented itself with keeping up a sort of quiet resistance, which effectually overthrew all the plans at that time formed against it. the project of the cour pleniere was at last obliged to be given up, and the prime minister not long afterwards followed its fate, and m. neckar was recalled into office. the attempt to establish the cour pleniere had an effect upon the nation which itself did not perceive. it was a sort of new form of government that insensibly served to put the old one out of sight and to unhinge it from the superstitious authority of antiquity. it was government dethroning government; and the old one, by attempting to make a new one, made a chasm. the failure of this scheme renewed the subject of convening the state-general; and this gave rise to a new series of politics. there was no settled form for convening the states-general: all that it positively meant was a deputation from what was then called the clergy, the noblesse, and the commons; but their numbers or their proportions had not been always the same. they had been convened only on extraordinary occasions, the last of which was in ; their numbers were then in equal proportions, and they voted by orders. it could not well escape the sagacity of m. neckar, that the mode of would answer neither the purpose of the then government nor of the nation. as matters were at that time circumstanced it would have been too contentious to agree upon anything. the debates would have been endless upon privileges and exemptions, in which neither the wants of the government nor the wishes of the nation for a constitution would have been attended to. but as he did not choose to take the decision upon himself, he summoned again the assembly of the notables and referred it to them. this body was in general interested in the decision, being chiefly of aristocracy and high-paid clergy, and they decided in favor of the mode of . this decision was against the sense of the nation, and also against the wishes of the court; for the aristocracy opposed itself to both and contended for privileges independent of either. the subject was then taken up by the parliament, who recommended that the number of the commons should be equal to the other two: and they should all sit in one house and vote in one body. the number finally determined on was , ; to be chosen by the commons (and this was less than their proportion ought to have been when their worth and consequence is considered on a national scale), by the clergy, and by the aristocracy; but with respect to the mode of assembling themselves, whether together or apart, or the manner in which they should vote, those matters were referred.*[ ] the election that followed was not a contested election, but an animated one. the candidates were not men, but principles. societies were formed in paris, and committees of correspondence and communication established throughout the nation, for the purpose of enlightening the people, and explaining to them the principles of civil government; and so orderly was the election conducted, that it did not give rise even to the rumour of tumult. the states-general were to meet at versailles in april , but did not assemble till may. they situated themselves in three separate chambers, or rather the clergy and aristocracy withdrew each into a separate chamber. the majority of the aristocracy claimed what they called the privilege of voting as a separate body, and of giving their consent or their negative in that manner; and many of the bishops and the high-beneficed clergy claimed the same privilege on the part of their order. the tiers etat (as they were then called) disowned any knowledge of artificial orders and artificial privileges; and they were not only resolute on this point, but somewhat disdainful. they began to consider the aristocracy as a kind of fungus growing out of the corruption of society, that could not be admitted even as a branch of it; and from the disposition the aristocracy had shown by upholding lettres de cachet, and in sundry other instances, it was manifest that no constitution could be formed by admitting men in any other character than as national men. after various altercations on this head, the tiers etat or commons (as they were then called) declared themselves (on a motion made for that purpose by the abbe sieyes) "the representative of the nation; and that the two orders could be considered but as deputies of corporations, and could only have a deliberate voice when they assembled in a national character with the national representatives." this proceeding extinguished the style of etats generaux, or states-general, and erected it into the style it now bears, that of l'assemblee nationale, or national assembly. this motion was not made in a precipitate manner. it was the result of cool deliberation, and concerned between the national representatives and the patriotic members of the two chambers, who saw into the folly, mischief, and injustice of artificial privileged distinctions. it was become evident, that no constitution, worthy of being called by that name, could be established on anything less than a national ground. the aristocracy had hitherto opposed the despotism of the court, and affected the language of patriotism; but it opposed it as its rival (as the english barons opposed king john) and it now opposed the nation from the same motives. on carrying this motion, the national representatives, as had been concerted, sent an invitation to the two chambers, to unite with them in a national character, and proceed to business. a majority of the clergy, chiefly of the parish priests, withdrew from the clerical chamber, and joined the nation; and forty-five from the other chamber joined in like manner. there is a sort of secret history belonging to this last circumstance, which is necessary to its explanation; it was not judged prudent that all the patriotic members of the chamber styling itself the nobles, should quit it at once; and in consequence of this arrangement, they drew off by degrees, always leaving some, as well to reason the case, as to watch the suspected. in a little time the numbers increased from forty-five to eighty, and soon after to a greater number; which, with the majority of the clergy, and the whole of the national representatives, put the malcontents in a very diminutive condition. the king, who, very different from the general class called by that name, is a man of a good heart, showed himself disposed to recommend a union of the three chambers, on the ground the national assembly had taken; but the malcontents exerted themselves to prevent it, and began now to have another project in view. their numbers consisted of a majority of the aristocratical chamber, and the minority of the clerical chamber, chiefly of bishops and high-beneficed clergy; and these men were determined to put everything to issue, as well by strength as by stratagem. they had no objection to a constitution; but it must be such a one as themselves should dictate, and suited to their own views and particular situations. on the other hand, the nation disowned knowing anything of them but as citizens, and was determined to shut out all such up-start pretensions. the more aristocracy appeared, the more it was despised; there was a visible imbecility and want of intellects in the majority, a sort of je ne sais quoi, that while it affected to be more than citizen, was less than man. it lost ground from contempt more than from hatred; and was rather jeered at as an ass, than dreaded as a lion. this is the general character of aristocracy, or what are called nobles or nobility, or rather no-ability, in all countries. the plan of the malcontents consisted now of two things; either to deliberate and vote by chambers (or orders), more especially on all questions respecting a constitution (by which the aristocratical chamber would have had a negative on any article of the constitution); or, in case they could not accomplish this object, to overthrow the national assembly entirely. to effect one or other of these objects they began to cultivate a friendship with the despotism they had hitherto attempted to rival, and the count d'artois became their chief. the king (who has since declared himself deceived into their measures) held, according to the old form, a bed of justice, in which he accorded to the deliberation and vote par tete (by head) upon several subjects; but reserved the deliberation and vote upon all questions respecting a constitution to the three chambers separately. this declaration of the king was made against the advice of m. neckar, who now began to perceive that he was growing out of fashion at court, and that another minister was in contemplation. as the form of sitting in separate chambers was yet apparently kept up, though essentially destroyed, the national representatives immediately after this declaration of the king resorted to their own chambers to consult on a protest against it; and the minority of the chamber (calling itself the nobles), who had joined the national cause, retired to a private house to consult in like manner. the malcontents had by this time concerted their measures with the court, which the count d'artois undertook to conduct; and as they saw from the discontent which the declaration excited, and the opposition making against it, that they could not obtain a control over the intended constitution by a separate vote, they prepared themselves for their final object--that of conspiring against the national assembly, and overthrowing it. the next morning the door of the chamber of the national assembly was shut against them, and guarded by troops; and the members were refused admittance. on this they withdrew to a tennis-ground in the neighbourhood of versailles, as the most convenient place they could find, and, after renewing their session, took an oath never to separate from each other, under any circumstance whatever, death excepted, until they had established a constitution. as the experiment of shutting up the house had no other effect than that of producing a closer connection in the members, it was opened again the next day, and the public business recommenced in the usual place. we are now to have in view the forming of the new ministry, which was to accomplish the overthrow of the national assembly. but as force would be necessary, orders were issued to assemble thirty thousand troops, the command of which was given to broglio, one of the intended new ministry, who was recalled from the country for this purpose. but as some management was necessary to keep this plan concealed till the moment it should be ready for execution, it is to this policy that a declaration made by count d'artois must be attributed, and which is here proper to be introduced. it could not but occur while the malcontents continued to resort to their chambers separate from the national assembly, more jealousy would be excited than if they were mixed with it, and that the plot might be suspected. but as they had taken their ground, and now wanted a pretence for quitting it, it was necessary that one should be devised. this was effectually accomplished by a declaration made by the count d'artois: "that if they took not a part in the national assembly, the life of the king would be endangered": on which they quitted their chambers, and mixed with the assembly, in one body. at the time this declaration was made, it was generally treated as a piece of absurdity in count d'artois calculated merely to relieve the outstanding members of the two chambers from the diminutive situation they were put in; and if nothing more had followed, this conclusion would have been good. but as things best explain themselves by their events, this apparent union was only a cover to the machinations which were secretly going on; and the declaration accommodated itself to answer that purpose. in a little time the national assembly found itself surrounded by troops, and thousands more were daily arriving. on this a very strong declaration was made by the national assembly to the king, remonstrating on the impropriety of the measure, and demanding the reason. the king, who was not in the secret of this business, as himself afterwards declared, gave substantially for answer, that he had no other object in view than to preserve the public tranquility, which appeared to be much disturbed. but in a few days from this time the plot unravelled itself m. neckar and the ministry were displaced, and a new one formed of the enemies of the revolution; and broglio, with between twenty-five and thirty thousand foreign troops, was arrived to support them. the mask was now thrown off, and matters were come to a crisis. the event was that in a space of three days the new ministry and their abettors found it prudent to fly the nation; the bastille was taken, and broglio and his foreign troops dispersed, as is already related in the former part of this work. there are some curious circumstances in the history of this short-lived ministry, and this short-lived attempt at a counter-revolution. the palace of versailles, where the court was sitting, was not more than four hundred yards distant from the hall where the national assembly was sitting. the two places were at this moment like the separate headquarters of two combatant armies; yet the court was as perfectly ignorant of the information which had arrived from paris to the national assembly, as if it had resided at an hundred miles distance. the then marquis de la fayette, who (as has been already mentioned) was chosen to preside in the national assembly on this particular occasion, named by order of the assembly three successive deputations to the king, on the day and up to the evening on which the bastille was taken, to inform and confer with him on the state of affairs; but the ministry, who knew not so much as that it was attacked, precluded all communication, and were solacing themselves how dextrously they had succeeded; but in a few hours the accounts arrived so thick and fast that they had to start from their desks and run. some set off in one disguise, and some in another, and none in their own character. their anxiety now was to outride the news, lest they should be stopt, which, though it flew fast, flew not so fast as themselves. it is worth remarking that the national assembly neither pursued those fugitive conspirators, nor took any notice of them, nor sought to retaliate in any shape whatever. occupied with establishing a constitution founded on the rights of man and the authority of the people, the only authority on which government has a right to exist in any country, the national assembly felt none of those mean passions which mark the character of impertinent governments, founding themselves on their own authority, or on the absurdity of hereditary succession. it is the faculty of the human mind to become what it contemplates, and to act in unison with its object. the conspiracy being thus dispersed, one of the first works of the national assembly, instead of vindictive proclamations, as has been the case with other governments, was to publish a declaration of the rights of man, as the basis on which the new constitution was to be built, and which is here subjoined: declaration of the rights of man and of citizens by the national assembly of france the representatives of the people of france, formed into a national assembly, considering that ignorance, neglect, or contempt of human rights, are the sole causes of public misfortunes and corruptions of government, have resolved to set forth in a solemn declaration, these natural, imprescriptible, and inalienable rights: that this declaration being constantly present to the minds of the members of the body social, they may be forever kept attentive to their rights and their duties; that the acts of the legislative and executive powers of government, being capable of being every moment compared with the end of political institutions, may be more respected; and also, that the future claims of the citizens, being directed by simple and incontestable principles, may always tend to the maintenance of the constitution, and the general happiness. for these reasons the national assembly doth recognize and declare, in the presence of the supreme being, and with the hope of his blessing and favour, the following sacred rights of men and of citizens: one: men are born, and always continue, free and equal in respect of their rights. civil distinctions, therefore, can be founded only on public utility. two: the end of all political associations is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man; and these rights are liberty, property, security, and resistance of oppression. three: the nation is essentially the source of all sovereignty; nor can any individual, or any body of men, be entitled to any authority which is not expressly derived from it. four: political liberty consists in the power of doing whatever does not injure another. the exercise of the natural rights of every man, has no other limits than those which are necessary to secure to every other man the free exercise of the same rights; and these limits are determinable only by the law. five: the law ought to prohibit only actions hurtful to society. what is not prohibited by the law should not be hindered; nor should anyone be compelled to that which the law does not require. six: the law is an expression of the will of the community. all citizens have a right to concur, either personally or by their representatives, in its formation. it should be the same to all, whether it protects or punishes; and all being equal in its sight, are equally eligible to all honours, places, and employments, according to their different abilities, without any other distinction than that created by their virtues and talents. seven: no man should be accused, arrested, or held in confinement, except in cases determined by the law, and according to the forms which it has prescribed. all who promote, solicit, execute, or cause to be executed, arbitrary orders, ought to be punished, and every citizen called upon, or apprehended by virtue of the law, ought immediately to obey, and renders himself culpable by resistance. eight: the law ought to impose no other penalties but such as are absolutely and evidently necessary; and no one ought to be punished, but in virtue of a law promulgated before the offence, and legally applied. nine: every man being presumed innocent till he has been convicted, whenever his detention becomes indispensable, all rigour to him, more than is necessary to secure his person, ought to be provided against by the law. ten: no man ought to be molested on account of his opinions, not even on account of his religious opinions, provided his avowal of them does not disturb the public order established by the law. eleven: the unrestrained communication of thoughts and opinions being one of the most precious rights of man, every citizen may speak, write, and publish freely, provided he is responsible for the abuse of this liberty, in cases determined by the law. twelve: a public force being necessary to give security to the rights of men and of citizens, that force is instituted for the benefit of the community and not for the particular benefit of the persons to whom it is intrusted. thirteen: a common contribution being necessary for the support of the public force, and for defraying the other expenses of government, it ought to be divided equally among the members of the community, according to their abilities. fourteen: every citizen has a right, either by himself or his representative, to a free voice in determining the necessity of public contributions, the appropriation of them, and their amount, mode of assessment, and duration. fifteen: every community has a right to demand of all its agents an account of their conduct. sixteen: every community in which a separation of powers and a security of rights is not provided for, wants a constitution. seventeen: the right to property being inviolable and sacred, no one ought to be deprived of it, except in cases of evident public necessity, legally ascertained, and on condition of a previous just indemnity. observations on the declaration of rights the first three articles comprehend in general terms the whole of a declaration of rights, all the succeeding articles either originate from them or follow as elucidations. the th, th, and th define more particularly what is only generally expressed in the st, nd, and rd. the th, th, th, th, and th articles are declaratory of principles upon which laws shall be constructed, conformable to rights already declared. but it is questioned by some very good people in france, as well as in other countries, whether the th article sufficiently guarantees the right it is intended to accord with; besides which it takes off from the divine dignity of religion, and weakens its operative force upon the mind, to make it a subject of human laws. it then presents itself to man like light intercepted by a cloudy medium, in which the source of it is obscured from his sight, and he sees nothing to reverence in the dusky ray.*[ ] the remaining articles, beginning with the twelfth, are substantially contained in the principles of the preceding articles; but in the particular situation in which france then was, having to undo what was wrong, as well as to set up what was right, it was proper to be more particular than what in another condition of things would be necessary. while the declaration of rights was before the national assembly some of its members remarked that if a declaration of rights were published it should be accompanied by a declaration of duties. the observation discovered a mind that reflected, and it only erred by not reflecting far enough. a declaration of rights is, by reciprocity, a declaration of duties also. whatever is my right as a man is also the right of another; and it becomes my duty to guarantee as well as to possess. the three first articles are the base of liberty, as well individual as national; nor can any country be called free whose government does not take its beginning from the principles they contain, and continue to preserve them pure; and the whole of the declaration of rights is of more value to the world, and will do more good, than all the laws and statutes that have yet been promulgated. in the declaratory exordium which prefaces the declaration of rights we see the solemn and majestic spectacle of a nation opening its commission, under the auspices of its creator, to establish a government, a scene so new, and so transcendantly unequalled by anything in the european world, that the name of a revolution is diminutive of its character, and it rises into a regeneration of man. what are the present governments of europe but a scene of iniquity and oppression? what is that of england? do not its own inhabitants say it is a market where every man has his price, and where corruption is common traffic at the expense of a deluded people? no wonder, then, that the french revolution is traduced. had it confined itself merely to the destruction of flagrant despotism perhaps mr. burke and some others had been silent. their cry now is, "it has gone too far"--that is, it has gone too far for them. it stares corruption in the face, and the venal tribe are all alarmed. their fear discovers itself in their outrage, and they are but publishing the groans of a wounded vice. but from such opposition the french revolution, instead of suffering, receives an homage. the more it is struck the more sparks it will emit; and the fear is it will not be struck enough. it has nothing to dread from attacks; truth has given it an establishment, and time will record it with a name as lasting as his own. having now traced the progress of the french revolution through most of its principal stages, from its commencement to the taking of the bastille, and its establishment by the declaration of rights, i will close the subject with the energetic apostrophe of m. de la fayette, "may this great monument, raised to liberty, serve as a lesson to the oppressor, and an example to the oppressed!"*[ ] miscellaneous chapter to prevent interrupting the argument in the preceding part of this work, or the narrative that follows it, i reserved some observations to be thrown together in a miscellaneous chapter; by which variety might not be censured for confusion. mr. burke's book is all miscellany. his intention was to make an attack on the french revolution; but instead of proceeding with an orderly arrangement, he has stormed it with a mob of ideas tumbling over and destroying one another. but this confusion and contradiction in mr. burke's book is easily accounted for.--when a man in a wrong cause attempts to steer his course by anything else than some polar truth or principle, he is sure to be lost. it is beyond the compass of his capacity to keep all the parts of an argument together, and make them unite in one issue, by any other means than having this guide always in view. neither memory nor invention will supply the want of it. the former fails him, and the latter betrays him. notwithstanding the nonsense, for it deserves no better name, that mr. burke has asserted about hereditary rights, and hereditary succession, and that a nation has not a right to form a government of itself; it happened to fall in his way to give some account of what government is. "government," says he, "is a contrivance of human wisdom." admitting that government is a contrivance of human wisdom, it must necessarily follow, that hereditary succession, and hereditary rights (as they are called), can make no part of it, because it is impossible to make wisdom hereditary; and on the other hand, that cannot be a wise contrivance, which in its operation may commit the government of a nation to the wisdom of an idiot. the ground which mr. burke now takes is fatal to every part of his cause. the argument changes from hereditary rights to hereditary wisdom; and the question is, who is the wisest man? he must now show that every one in the line of hereditary succession was a solomon, or his title is not good to be a king. what a stroke has mr. burke now made! to use a sailor's phrase, he has swabbed the deck, and scarcely left a name legible in the list of kings; and he has mowed down and thinned the house of peers, with a scythe as formidable as death and time. but mr. burke appears to have been aware of this retort; and he has taken care to guard against it, by making government to be not only a contrivance of human wisdom, but a monopoly of wisdom. he puts the nation as fools on one side, and places his government of wisdom, all wise men of gotham, on the other side; and he then proclaims, and says that "men have a right that their wants should be provided for by this wisdom." having thus made proclamation, he next proceeds to explain to them what their wants are, and also what their rights are. in this he has succeeded dextrously, for he makes their wants to be a want of wisdom; but as this is cold comfort, he then informs them, that they have a right (not to any of the wisdom) but to be governed by it; and in order to impress them with a solemn reverence for this monopoly-government of wisdom, and of its vast capacity for all purposes, possible or impossible, right or wrong, he proceeds with astrological mysterious importance, to tell to them its powers in these words: "the rights of men in government are their advantages; and these are often in balance between differences of good; and in compromises sometimes between good and evil, and sometimes between evil and evil. political reason is a computing principle; adding--subtracting--multiplying--and dividing, morally and not metaphysically or mathematically, true moral denominations." as the wondering audience, whom mr. burke supposes himself talking to, may not understand all this learned jargon, i will undertake to be its interpreter. the meaning, then, good people, of all this, is: that government is governed by no principle whatever; that it can make evil good, or good evil, just as it pleases. in short, that government is arbitrary power. but there are some things which mr. burke has forgotten. first, he has not shown where the wisdom originally came from: and secondly, he has not shown by what authority it first began to act. in the manner he introduces the matter, it is either government stealing wisdom, or wisdom stealing government. it is without an origin, and its powers without authority. in short, it is usurpation. whether it be from a sense of shame, or from a consciousness of some radical defect in a government necessary to be kept out of sight, or from both, or from any other cause, i undertake not to determine, but so it is, that a monarchical reasoner never traces government to its source, or from its source. it is one of the shibboleths by which he may be known. a thousand years hence, those who shall live in america or france, will look back with contemplative pride on the origin of their government, and say, this was the work of our glorious ancestors! but what can a monarchical talker say? what has he to exult in? alas he has nothing. a certain something forbids him to look back to a beginning, lest some robber, or some robin hood, should rise from the long obscurity of time and say, i am the origin. hard as mr. burke laboured at the regency bill and hereditary succession two years ago, and much as he dived for precedents, he still had not boldness enough to bring up william of normandy, and say, there is the head of the list! there is the fountain of honour! the son of a prostitute, and the plunderer of the english nation. the opinions of men with respect to government are changing fast in all countries. the revolutions of america and france have thrown a beam of light over the world, which reaches into man. the enormous expense of governments has provoked people to think, by making them feel; and when once the veil begins to rend, it admits not of repair. ignorance is of a peculiar nature: once dispelled, it is impossible to re-establish it. it is not originally a thing of itself, but is only the absence of knowledge; and though man may be kept ignorant, he cannot be made ignorant. the mind, in discovering truth, acts in the same manner as it acts through the eye in discovering objects; when once any object has been seen, it is impossible to put the mind back to the same condition it was in before it saw it. those who talk of a counter-revolution in france, show how little they understand of man. there does not exist in the compass of language an arrangement of words to express so much as the means of effecting a counter-revolution. the means must be an obliteration of knowledge; and it has never yet been discovered how to make man unknow his knowledge, or unthink his thoughts. mr. burke is labouring in vain to stop the progress of knowledge; and it comes with the worse grace from him, as there is a certain transaction known in the city which renders him suspected of being a pensioner in a fictitious name. this may account for some strange doctrine he has advanced in his book, which though he points it at the revolution society, is effectually directed against the whole nation. "the king of england," says he, "holds his crown (for it does not belong to the nation, according to mr. burke) in contempt of the choice of the revolution society, who have not a single vote for a king among them either individually or collectively; and his majesty's heirs each in their time and order, will come to the crown with the same contempt of their choice, with which his majesty has succeeded to that which he now wears." as to who is king in england, or elsewhere, or whether there is any king at all, or whether the people choose a cherokee chief, or a hessian hussar for a king, it is not a matter that i trouble myself about--be that to themselves; but with respect to the doctrine, so far as it relates to the rights of men and nations, it is as abominable as anything ever uttered in the most enslaved country under heaven. whether it sounds worse to my ear, by not being accustomed to hear such despotism, than what it does to another person, i am not so well a judge of; but of its abominable principle i am at no loss to judge. it is not the revolution society that mr. burke means; it is the nation, as well in its original as in its representative character; and he has taken care to make himself understood, by saying that they have not a vote either collectively or individually. the revolution society is composed of citizens of all denominations, and of members of both the houses of parliament; and consequently, if there is not a right to a vote in any of the characters, there can be no right to any either in the nation or in its parliament. this ought to be a caution to every country how to import foreign families to be kings. it is somewhat curious to observe, that although the people of england had been in the habit of talking about kings, it is always a foreign house of kings; hating foreigners yet governed by them.--it is now the house of brunswick, one of the petty tribes of germany. it has hitherto been the practice of the english parliaments to regulate what was called the succession (taking it for granted that the nation then continued to accord to the form of annexing a monarchical branch of its government; for without this the parliament could not have had authority to have sent either to holland or to hanover, or to impose a king upon the nation against its will). and this must be the utmost limit to which parliament can go upon this case; but the right of the nation goes to the whole case, because it has the right of changing its whole form of government. the right of a parliament is only a right in trust, a right by delegation, and that but from a very small part of the nation; and one of its houses has not even this. but the right of the nation is an original right, as universal as taxation. the nation is the paymaster of everything, and everything must conform to its general will. i remember taking notice of a speech in what is called the english house of peers, by the then earl of shelburne, and i think it was at the time he was minister, which is applicable to this case. i do not directly charge my memory with every particular; but the words and the purport, as nearly as i remember, were these: "that the form of a government was a matter wholly at the will of the nation at all times, that if it chose a monarchical form, it had a right to have it so; and if it afterwards chose to be a republic, it had a right to be a republic, and to say to a king, 'we have no longer any occasion for you.'" when mr. burke says that "his majesty's heirs and successors, each in their time and order, will come to the crown with the same content of their choice with which his majesty had succeeded to that he wears," it is saying too much even to the humblest individual in the country; part of whose daily labour goes towards making up the million sterling a-year, which the country gives the person it styles a king. government with insolence is despotism; but when contempt is added it becomes worse; and to pay for contempt is the excess of slavery. this species of government comes from germany; and reminds me of what one of the brunswick soldiers told me, who was taken prisoner by, the americans in the late war: "ah!" said he, "america is a fine free country, it is worth the people's fighting for; i know the difference by knowing my own: in my country, if the prince says eat straw, we eat straw." god help that country, thought i, be it england or elsewhere, whose liberties are to be protected by german principles of government, and princes of brunswick! as mr. burke sometimes speaks of england, sometimes of france, and sometimes of the world, and of government in general, it is difficult to answer his book without apparently meeting him on the same ground. although principles of government are general subjects, it is next to impossible, in many cases, to separate them from the idea of place and circumstance, and the more so when circumstances are put for arguments, which is frequently the case with mr. burke. in the former part of his book, addressing himself to the people of france, he says: "no experience has taught us (meaning the english), that in any other course or method than that of a hereditary crown, can our liberties be regularly perpetuated and preserved sacred as our hereditary right." i ask mr. burke, who is to take them away? m. de la fayette, in speaking to france, says: "for a nation to be free, it is sufficient that she wills it." but mr. burke represents england as wanting capacity to take care of itself, and that its liberties must be taken care of by a king holding it in "contempt." if england is sunk to this, it is preparing itself to eat straw, as in hanover, or in brunswick. but besides the folly of the declaration, it happens that the facts are all against mr. burke. it was by the government being hereditary, that the liberties of the people were endangered. charles i. and james ii. are instances of this truth; yet neither of them went so far as to hold the nation in contempt. as it is sometimes of advantage to the people of one country to hear what those of other countries have to say respecting it, it is possible that the people of france may learn something from mr. burke's book, and that the people of england may also learn something from the answers it will occasion. when nations fall out about freedom, a wide field of debate is opened. the argument commences with the rights of war, without its evils, and as knowledge is the object contended for, the party that sustains the defeat obtains the prize. mr. burke talks about what he calls an hereditary crown, as if it were some production of nature; or as if, like time, it had a power to operate, not only independently, but in spite of man; or as if it were a thing or a subject universally consented to. alas! it has none of those properties, but is the reverse of them all. it is a thing in imagination, the propriety of which is more than doubted, and the legality of which in a few years will be denied. but, to arrange this matter in a clearer view than what general expression can heads under which (what is called) an hereditary crown, or more properly speaking, an hereditary succession to the government of a nation, can be considered; which are: first, the right of a particular family to establish itself. secondly, the right of a nation to establish a particular family. with respect to the first of these heads, that of a family establishing itself with hereditary powers on its own authority, and independent of the consent of a nation, all men will concur in calling it despotism; and it would be trespassing on their understanding to attempt to prove it. but the second head, that of a nation establishing a particular family with hereditary powers, does not present itself as despotism on the first reflection; but if men will permit it a second reflection to take place, and carry that reflection forward but one remove out of their own persons to that of their offspring, they will then see that hereditary succession becomes in its consequences the same despotism to others, which they reprobated for themselves. it operates to preclude the consent of the succeeding generations; and the preclusion of consent is despotism. when the person who at any time shall be in possession of a government, or those who stand in succession to him, shall say to a nation, i hold this power in "contempt" of you, it signifies not on what authority he pretends to say it. it is no relief, but an aggravation to a person in slavery, to reflect that he was sold by his parent; and as that which heightens the criminality of an act cannot be produced to prove the legality of it, hereditary succession cannot be established as a legal thing. in order to arrive at a more perfect decision on this head, it will be proper to consider the generation which undertakes to establish a family with hereditary powers, apart and separate from the generations which are to follow; and also to consider the character in which the first generation acts with respect to succeeding generations. the generation which first selects a person, and puts him at the head of its government, either with the title of king, or any other distinction, acts on its own choice, be it wise or foolish, as a free agent for itself the person so set up is not hereditary, but selected and appointed; and the generation who sets him up, does not live under a hereditary government, but under a government of its own choice and establishment. were the generation who sets him up, and the person so set up, to live for ever, it never could become hereditary succession; and of consequence hereditary succession can only follow on the death of the first parties. as, therefore, hereditary succession is out of the question with respect to the first generation, we have now to consider the character in which that generation acts with respect to the commencing generation, and to all succeeding ones. it assumes a character, to which it has neither right nor title. it changes itself from a legislator to a testator, and effects to make its will, which is to have operation after the demise of the makers, to bequeath the government; and it not only attempts to bequeath, but to establish on the succeeding generation, a new and different form of government under which itself lived. itself, as already observed, lived not under a hereditary government but under a government of its own choice and establishment; and it now attempts, by virtue of a will and testament (and which it has not authority to make), to take from the commencing generation, and all future ones, the rights and free agency by which itself acted. but, exclusive of the right which any generation has to act collectively as a testator, the objects to which it applies itself in this case, are not within the compass of any law, or of any will or testament. the rights of men in society, are neither devisable or transferable, nor annihilable, but are descendable only, and it is not in the power of any generation to intercept finally, and cut off the descent. if the present generation, or any other, are disposed to be slaves, it does not lessen the right of the succeeding generation to be free. wrongs cannot have a legal descent. when mr. burke attempts to maintain that the english nation did at the revolution of , most solemnly renounce and abdicate their rights for themselves, and for all their posterity for ever, he speaks a language that merits not reply, and which can only excite contempt for his prostitute principles, or pity for his ignorance. in whatever light hereditary succession, as growing out of the will and testament of some former generation, presents itself, it is an absurdity. a cannot make a will to take from b the property of b, and give it to c; yet this is the manner in which (what is called) hereditary succession by law operates. a certain former generation made a will, to take away the rights of the commencing generation, and all future ones, and convey those rights to a third person, who afterwards comes forward, and tells them, in mr. burke's language, that they have no rights, that their rights are already bequeathed to him and that he will govern in contempt of them. from such principles, and such ignorance, good lord deliver the world! but, after all, what is this metaphor called a crown, or rather what is monarchy? is it a thing, or is it a name, or is it a fraud? is it a "contrivance of human wisdom," or of human craft to obtain money from a nation under specious pretences? is it a thing necessary to a nation? if it is, in what does that necessity consist, what service does it perform, what is its business, and what are its merits? does the virtue consist in the metaphor, or in the man? doth the goldsmith that makes the crown, make the virtue also? doth it operate like fortunatus's wishing-cap, or harlequin's wooden sword? doth it make a man a conjurer? in fine, what is it? it appears to be something going much out of fashion, falling into ridicule, and rejected in some countries, both as unnecessary and expensive. in america it is considered as an absurdity; and in france it has so far declined, that the goodness of the man, and the respect for his personal character, are the only things that preserve the appearance of its existence. if government be what mr. burke describes it, "a contrivance of human wisdom" i might ask him, if wisdom was at such a low ebb in england, that it was become necessary to import it from holland and from hanover? but i will do the country the justice to say, that was not the case; and even if it was it mistook the cargo. the wisdom of every country, when properly exerted, is sufficient for all its purposes; and there could exist no more real occasion in england to have sent for a dutch stadtholder, or a german elector, than there was in america to have done a similar thing. if a country does not understand its own affairs, how is a foreigner to understand them, who knows neither its laws, its manners, nor its language? if there existed a man so transcendently wise above all others, that his wisdom was necessary to instruct a nation, some reason might be offered for monarchy; but when we cast our eyes about a country, and observe how every part understands its own affairs; and when we look around the world, and see that of all men in it, the race of kings are the most insignificant in capacity, our reason cannot fail to ask us--what are those men kept for? if there is anything in monarchy which we people of america do not understand, i wish mr. burke would be so kind as to inform us. i see in america, a government extending over a country ten times as large as england, and conducted with regularity, for a fortieth part of the expense which government costs in england. if i ask a man in america if he wants a king, he retorts, and asks me if i take him for an idiot? how is it that this difference happens? are we more or less wise than others? i see in america the generality of people living in a style of plenty unknown in monarchical countries; and i see that the principle of its government, which is that of the equal rights of man, is making a rapid progress in the world. if monarchy is a useless thing, why is it kept up anywhere? and if a necessary thing, how can it be dispensed with? that civil government is necessary, all civilized nations will agree; but civil government is republican government. all that part of the government of england which begins with the office of constable, and proceeds through the department of magistrate, quarter-sessions, and general assize, including trial by jury, is republican government. nothing of monarchy appears in any part of it, except in the name which william the conqueror imposed upon the english, that of obliging them to call him "their sovereign lord the king." it is easy to conceive that a band of interested men, such as placemen, pensioners, lords of the bed-chamber, lords of the kitchen, lords of the necessary-house, and the lord knows what besides, can find as many reasons for monarchy as their salaries, paid at the expense of the country, amount to; but if i ask the farmer, the manufacturer, the merchant, the tradesman, and down through all the occupations of life to the common labourer, what service monarchy is to him? he can give me no answer. if i ask him what monarchy is, he believes it is something like a sinecure. notwithstanding the taxes of england amount to almost seventeen millions a year, said to be for the expenses of government, it is still evident that the sense of the nation is left to govern itself, and does govern itself, by magistrates and juries, almost at its own charge, on republican principles, exclusive of the expense of taxes. the salaries of the judges are almost the only charge that is paid out of the revenue. considering that all the internal government is executed by the people, the taxes of england ought to be the lightest of any nation in europe; instead of which, they are the contrary. as this cannot be accounted for on the score of civil government, the subject necessarily extends itself to the monarchical part. when the people of england sent for george the first (and it would puzzle a wiser man than mr. burke to discover for what he could be wanted, or what service he could render), they ought at least to have conditioned for the abandonment of hanover. besides the endless german intrigues that must follow from a german elector being king of england, there is a natural impossibility of uniting in the same person the principles of freedom and the principles of despotism, or as it is usually called in england arbitrary power. a german elector is in his electorate a despot; how then could it be expected that he should be attached to principles of liberty in one country, while his interest in another was to be supported by despotism? the union cannot exist; and it might easily have been foreseen that german electors would make german kings, or in mr. burke's words, would assume government with "contempt." the english have been in the habit of considering a king of england only in the character in which he appears to them; whereas the same person, while the connection lasts, has a home-seat in another country, the interest of which is different to their own, and the principles of the governments in opposition to each other. to such a person england will appear as a town-residence, and the electorate as the estate. the english may wish, as i believe they do, success to the principles of liberty in france, or in germany; but a german elector trembles for the fate of despotism in his electorate; and the duchy of mecklenburgh, where the present queen's family governs, is under the same wretched state of arbitrary power, and the people in slavish vassalage. there never was a time when it became the english to watch continental intrigues more circumspectly than at the present moment, and to distinguish the politics of the electorate from the politics of the nation. the revolution of france has entirely changed the ground with respect to england and france, as nations; but the german despots, with prussia at their head, are combining against liberty; and the fondness of mr. pitt for office, and the interest which all his family connections have obtained, do not give sufficient security against this intrigue. as everything which passes in the world becomes matter for history, i will now quit this subject, and take a concise review of the state of parties and politics in england, as mr. burke has done in france. whether the present reign commenced with contempt, i leave to mr. burke: certain, however, it is, that it had strongly that appearance. the animosity of the english nation, it is very well remembered, ran high; and, had the true principles of liberty been as well understood then as they now promise to be, it is probable the nation would not have patiently submitted to so much. george the first and second were sensible of a rival in the remains of the stuarts; and as they could not but consider themselves as standing on their good behaviour, they had prudence to keep their german principles of government to themselves; but as the stuart family wore away, the prudence became less necessary. the contest between rights, and what were called prerogatives, continued to heat the nation till some time after the conclusion of the american war, when all at once it fell a calm--execration exchanged itself for applause, and court popularity sprung up like a mushroom in a night. to account for this sudden transition, it is proper to observe that there are two distinct species of popularity; the one excited by merit, and the other by resentment. as the nation had formed itself into two parties, and each was extolling the merits of its parliamentary champions for and against prerogative, nothing could operate to give a more general shock than an immediate coalition of the champions themselves. the partisans of each being thus suddenly left in the lurch, and mutually heated with disgust at the measure, felt no other relief than uniting in a common execration against both. a higher stimulus or resentment being thus excited than what the contest on prerogatives occasioned, the nation quitted all former objects of rights and wrongs, and sought only that of gratification. the indignation at the coalition so effectually superseded the indignation against the court as to extinguish it; and without any change of principles on the part of the court, the same people who had reprobated its despotism united with it to revenge themselves on the coalition parliament. the case was not, which they liked best, but which they hated most; and the least hated passed for love. the dissolution of the coalition parliament, as it afforded the means of gratifying the resentment of the nation, could not fail to be popular; and from hence arose the popularity of the court. transitions of this kind exhibit a nation under the government of temper, instead of a fixed and steady principle; and having once committed itself, however rashly, it feels itself urged along to justify by continuance its first proceeding. measures which at other times it would censure it now approves, and acts persuasion upon itself to suffocate its judgment. on the return of a new parliament, the new minister, mr. pitt, found himself in a secure majority; and the nation gave him credit, not out of regard to himself, but because it had resolved to do it out of resentment to another. he introduced himself to public notice by a proposed reform of parliament, which in its operation would have amounted to a public justification of corruption. the nation was to be at the expense of buying up the rotten boroughs, whereas it ought to punish the persons who deal in the traffic. passing over the two bubbles of the dutch business and the million a-year to sink the national debt, the matter which most presents itself, is the affair of the regency. never, in the course of my observation, was delusion more successfully acted, nor a nation more completely deceived. but, to make this appear, it will be necessary to go over the circumstances. mr. fox had stated in the house of commons, that the prince of wales, as heir in succession, had a right in himself to assume the government. this was opposed by mr. pitt; and, so far as the opposition was confined to the doctrine, it was just. but the principles which mr. pitt maintained on the contrary side were as bad, or worse in their extent, than those of mr. fox; because they went to establish an aristocracy over the nation, and over the small representation it has in the house of commons. whether the english form of government be good or bad, is not in this case the question; but, taking it as it stands, without regard to its merits or demerits, mr. pitt was farther from the point than mr. fox. it is supposed to consist of three parts:--while therefore the nation is disposed to continue this form, the parts have a national standing, independent of each other, and are not the creatures of each other. had mr. fox passed through parliament, and said that the person alluded to claimed on the ground of the nation, mr. pitt must then have contended what he called the right of the parliament against the right of the nation. by the appearance which the contest made, mr. fox took the hereditary ground, and mr. pitt the parliamentary ground; but the fact is, they both took hereditary ground, and mr. pitt took the worst of the two. what is called the parliament is made up of two houses, one of which is more hereditary, and more beyond the control of the nation than what the crown (as it is called) is supposed to be. it is an hereditary aristocracy, assuming and asserting indefeasible, irrevocable rights and authority, wholly independent of the nation. where, then, was the merited popularity of exalting this hereditary power over another hereditary power less independent of the nation than what itself assumed to be, and of absorbing the rights of the nation into a house over which it has neither election nor control? the general impulse of the nation was right; but it acted without reflection. it approved the opposition made to the right set up by mr. fox, without perceiving that mr. pitt was supporting another indefeasible right more remote from the nation, in opposition to it. with respect to the house of commons, it is elected but by a small part of the nation; but were the election as universal as taxation, which it ought to be, it would still be only the organ of the nation, and cannot possess inherent rights.--when the national assembly of france resolves a matter, the resolve is made in right of the nation; but mr. pitt, on all national questions, so far as they refer to the house of commons, absorbs the rights of the nation into the organ, and makes the organ into a nation, and the nation itself into a cypher. in a few words, the question on the regency was a question of a million a-year, which is appropriated to the executive department: and mr. pitt could not possess himself of any management of this sum, without setting up the supremacy of parliament; and when this was accomplished, it was indifferent who should be regent, as he must be regent at his own cost. among the curiosities which this contentious debate afforded, was that of making the great seal into a king, the affixing of which to an act was to be royal authority. if, therefore, royal authority is a great seal, it consequently is in itself nothing; and a good constitution would be of infinitely more value to the nation than what the three nominal powers, as they now stand, are worth. the continual use of the word constitution in the english parliament shows there is none; and that the whole is merely a form of government without a constitution, and constituting itself with what powers it pleases. if there were a constitution, it certainly could be referred to; and the debate on any constitutional point would terminate by producing the constitution. one member says this is constitution, and another says that is constitution--to-day it is one thing; and to-morrow something else--while the maintaining of the debate proves there is none. constitution is now the cant word of parliament, tuning itself to the ear of the nation. formerly it was the universal supremacy of parliament--the omnipotence of parliament: but since the progress of liberty in france, those phrases have a despotic harshness in their note; and the english parliament have catched the fashion from the national assembly, but without the substance, of speaking of constitution. as the present generation of the people in england did not make the government, they are not accountable for any of its defects; but, that sooner or later, it must come into their hands to undergo a constitutional reformation, is as certain as that the same thing has happened in france. if france, with a revenue of nearly twenty-four millions sterling, with an extent of rich and fertile country above four times larger than england, with a population of twenty-four millions of inhabitants to support taxation, with upwards of ninety millions sterling of gold and silver circulating in the nation, and with a debt less than the present debt of england--still found it necessary, from whatever cause, to come to a settlement of its affairs, it solves the problem of funding for both countries. it is out of the question to say how long what is called the english constitution has lasted, and to argue from thence how long it is to last; the question is, how long can the funding system last? it is a thing but of modern invention, and has not yet continued beyond the life of a man; yet in that short space it has so far accumulated, that, together with the current expenses, it requires an amount of taxes at least equal to the whole landed rental of the nation in acres to defray the annual expenditure. that a government could not have always gone on by the same system which has been followed for the last seventy years, must be evident to every man; and for the same reason it cannot always go on. the funding system is not money; neither is it, properly speaking, credit. it, in effect, creates upon paper the sum which it appears to borrow, and lays on a tax to keep the imaginary capital alive by the payment of interest and sends the annuity to market, to be sold for paper already in circulation. if any credit is given, it is to the disposition of the people to pay the tax, and not to the government, which lays it on. when this disposition expires, what is supposed to be the credit of government expires with it. the instance of france under the former government shows that it is impossible to compel the payment of taxes by force, when a whole nation is determined to take its stand upon that ground. mr. burke, in his review of the finances of france, states the quantity of gold and silver in france, at about eighty-eight millions sterling. in doing this, he has, i presume, divided by the difference of exchange, instead of the standard of twenty-four livres to a pound sterling; for m. neckar's statement, from which mr. burke's is taken, is two thousand two hundred millions of livres, which is upwards of ninety-one millions and a half sterling. m. neckar in france, and mr. george chalmers at the office of trade and plantation in england, of which lord hawkesbury is president, published nearly about the same time ( ) an account of the quantity of money in each nation, from the returns of the mint of each nation. mr. chalmers, from the returns of the english mint at the tower of london, states the quantity of money in england, including scotland and ireland, to be twenty millions sterling.*[ ] m. neckar*[ ] says that the amount of money in france, recoined from the old coin which was called in, was two thousand five hundred millions of livres (upwards of one hundred and four millions sterling); and, after deducting for waste, and what may be in the west indies and other possible circumstances, states the circulation quantity at home to be ninety-one millions and a half sterling; but, taking it as mr. burke has put it, it is sixty-eight millions more than the national quantity in england. that the quantity of money in france cannot be under this sum, may at once be seen from the state of the french revenue, without referring to the records of the french mint for proofs. the revenue of france, prior to the revolution, was nearly twenty-four millions sterling; and as paper had then no existence in france the whole revenue was collected upon gold and silver; and it would have been impossible to have collected such a quantity of revenue upon a less national quantity than m. neckar has stated. before the establishment of paper in england, the revenue was about a fourth part of the national amount of gold and silver, as may be known by referring to the revenue prior to king william, and the quantity of money stated to be in the nation at that time, which was nearly as much as it is now. it can be of no real service to a nation, to impose upon itself, or to permit itself to be imposed upon; but the prejudices of some, and the imposition of others, have always represented france as a nation possessing but little money--whereas the quantity is not only more than four times what the quantity is in england, but is considerably greater on a proportion of numbers. to account for this deficiency on the part of england, some reference should be had to the english system of funding. it operates to multiply paper, and to substitute it in the room of money, in various shapes; and the more paper is multiplied, the more opportunities are offered to export the specie; and it admits of a possibility (by extending it to small notes) of increasing paper till there is no money left. i know this is not a pleasant subject to english readers; but the matters i am going to mention, are so important in themselves, as to require the attention of men interested in money transactions of a public nature. there is a circumstance stated by m. neckar, in his treatise on the administration of the finances, which has never been attended to in england, but which forms the only basis whereon to estimate the quantity of money (gold and silver) which ought to be in every nation in europe, to preserve a relative proportion with other nations. lisbon and cadiz are the two ports into which (money) gold and silver from south america are imported, and which afterwards divide and spread themselves over europe by means of commerce, and increase the quantity of money in all parts of europe. if, therefore, the amount of the annual importation into europe can be known, and the relative proportion of the foreign commerce of the several nations by which it can be distributed can be ascertained, they give a rule sufficiently true, to ascertain the quantity of money which ought to be found in any nation, at any given time. m. neckar shows from the registers of lisbon and cadiz, that the importation of gold and silver into europe, is five millions sterling annually. he has not taken it on a single year, but on an average of fifteen succeeding years, from to , both inclusive; in which time, the amount was one thousand eight hundred million livres, which is seventy-five millions sterling.*[ ] from the commencement of the hanover succession in to the time mr. chalmers published, is seventy-two years; and the quantity imported into europe, in that time, would be three hundred and sixty millions sterling. if the foreign commerce of great britain be stated at a sixth part of what the whole foreign commerce of europe amounts to (which is probably an inferior estimation to what the gentlemen at the exchange would allow) the proportion which britain should draw by commerce of this sum, to keep herself on a proportion with the rest of europe, would be also a sixth part which is sixty millions sterling; and if the same allowance for waste and accident be made for england which m. neckar makes for france, the quantity remaining after these deductions would be fifty-two millions; and this sum ought to have been in the nation (at the time mr. chalmers published), in addition to the sum which was in the nation at the commencement of the hanover succession, and to have made in the whole at least sixty-six millions sterling; instead of which there were but twenty millions, which is forty-six millions below its proportionate quantity. as the quantity of gold and silver imported into lisbon and cadiz is more exactly ascertained than that of any commodity imported into england, and as the quantity of money coined at the tower of london is still more positively known, the leading facts do not admit of controversy. either, therefore, the commerce of england is unproductive of profit, or the gold and silver which it brings in leak continually away by unseen means at the average rate of about three-quarters of a million a year, which, in the course of seventy-two years, accounts for the deficiency; and its absence is supplied by paper.*[ ] the revolution of france is attended with many novel circumstances, not only in the political sphere, but in the circle of money transactions. among others, it shows that a government may be in a state of insolvency and a nation rich. so far as the fact is confined to the late government of france, it was insolvent; because the nation would no longer support its extravagance, and therefore it could no longer support itself--but with respect to the nation all the means existed. a government may be said to be insolvent every time it applies to the nation to discharge its arrears. the insolvency of the late government of france and the present of england differed in no other respect than as the dispositions of the people differ. the people of france refused their aid to the old government; and the people of england submit to taxation without inquiry. what is called the crown in england has been insolvent several times; the last of which, publicly known, was in may, , when it applied to the nation to discharge upwards of l , private debts, which otherwise it could not pay. it was the error of mr. pitt, mr. burke, and all those who were unacquainted with the affairs of france to confound the french nation with the french government. the french nation, in effect, endeavoured to render the late government insolvent for the purpose of taking government into its own hands: and it reserved its means for the support of the new government. in a country of such vast extent and population as france the natural means cannot be wanting, and the political means appear the instant the nation is disposed to permit them. when mr. burke, in a speech last winter in the british parliament, "cast his eyes over the map of europe, and saw a chasm that once was france," he talked like a dreamer of dreams. the same natural france existed as before, and all the natural means existed with it. the only chasm was that the extinction of despotism had left, and which was to be filled up with the constitution more formidable in resources than the power which had expired. although the french nation rendered the late government insolvent, it did not permit the insolvency to act towards the creditors; and the creditors, considering the nation as the real pay-master, and the government only as the agent, rested themselves on the nation, in preference to the government. this appears greatly to disturb mr. burke, as the precedent is fatal to the policy by which governments have supposed themselves secure. they have contracted debts, with a view of attaching what is called the monied interest of a nation to their support; but the example in france shows that the permanent security of the creditor is in the nation, and not in the government; and that in all possible revolutions that may happen in governments, the means are always with the nation, and the nation always in existence. mr. burke argues that the creditors ought to have abided the fate of the government which they trusted; but the national assembly considered them as the creditors of the nation, and not of the government--of the master, and not of the steward. notwithstanding the late government could not discharge the current expenses, the present government has paid off a great part of the capital. this has been accomplished by two means; the one by lessening the expenses of government, and the other by the sale of the monastic and ecclesiastical landed estates. the devotees and penitent debauchees, extortioners and misers of former days, to ensure themselves a better world than that they were about to leave, had bequeathed immense property in trust to the priesthood for pious uses; and the priesthood kept it for themselves. the national assembly has ordered it to be sold for the good of the whole nation, and the priesthood to be decently provided for. in consequence of the revolution, the annual interest of the debt of france will be reduced at least six millions sterling, by paying off upwards of one hundred millions of the capital; which, with lessening the former expenses of government at least three millions, will place france in a situation worthy the imitation of europe. upon a whole review of the subject, how vast is the contrast! while mr. burke has been talking of a general bankruptcy in france, the national assembly has been paying off the capital of its debt; and while taxes have increased near a million a year in england, they have lowered several millions a year in france. not a word has either mr. burke or mr. pitt said about the french affairs, or the state of the french finances, in the present session of parliament. the subject begins to be too well understood, and imposition serves no longer. there is a general enigma running through the whole of mr. burke's book. he writes in a rage against the national assembly; but what is he enraged about? if his assertions were as true as they are groundless, and that france by her revolution, had annihilated her power, and become what he calls a chasm, it might excite the grief of a frenchman (considering himself as a national man), and provoke his rage against the national assembly; but why should it excite the rage of mr. burke? alas! it is not the nation of france that mr. burke means, but the court; and every court in europe, dreading the same fate, is in mourning. he writes neither in the character of a frenchman nor an englishman, but in the fawning character of that creature known in all countries, and a friend to none--a courtier. whether it be the court of versailles, or the court of st. james, or carlton-house, or the court in expectation, signifies not; for the caterpillar principle of all courts and courtiers are alike. they form a common policy throughout europe, detached and separate from the interest of nations: and while they appear to quarrel, they agree to plunder. nothing can be more terrible to a court or courtier than the revolution of france. that which is a blessing to nations is bitterness to them: and as their existence depends on the duplicity of a country, they tremble at the approach of principles, and dread the precedent that threatens their overthrow. conclusion reason and ignorance, the opposites of each other, influence the great bulk of mankind. if either of these can be rendered sufficiently extensive in a country, the machinery of government goes easily on. reason obeys itself; and ignorance submits to whatever is dictated to it. the two modes of the government which prevail in the world, are: first, government by election and representation. secondly, government by hereditary succession. the former is generally known by the name of republic; the latter by that of monarchy and aristocracy. those two distinct and opposite forms erect themselves on the two distinct and opposite bases of reason and ignorance.--as the exercise of government requires talents and abilities, and as talents and abilities cannot have hereditary descent, it is evident that hereditary succession requires a belief from man to which his reason cannot subscribe, and which can only be established upon his ignorance; and the more ignorant any country is, the better it is fitted for this species of government. on the contrary, government, in a well-constituted republic, requires no belief from man beyond what his reason can give. he sees the rationale of the whole system, its origin and its operation; and as it is best supported when best understood, the human faculties act with boldness, and acquire, under this form of government, a gigantic manliness. as, therefore, each of those forms acts on a different base, the one moving freely by the aid of reason, the other by ignorance; we have next to consider, what it is that gives motion to that species of government which is called mixed government, or, as it is sometimes ludicrously styled, a government of this, that and t' other. the moving power in this species of government is, of necessity, corruption. however imperfect election and representation may be in mixed governments, they still give exercise to a greater portion of reason than is convenient to the hereditary part; and therefore it becomes necessary to buy the reason up. a mixed government is an imperfect everything, cementing and soldering the discordant parts together by corruption, to act as a whole. mr. burke appears highly disgusted that france, since she had resolved on a revolution, did not adopt what he calls "a british constitution"; and the regretful manner in which he expresses himself on this occasion implies a suspicion that the british constitution needed something to keep its defects in countenance. in mixed governments there is no responsibility: the parts cover each other till responsibility is lost; and the corruption which moves the machine, contrives at the same time its own escape. when it is laid down as a maxim, that a king can do no wrong, it places him in a state of similar security with that of idiots and persons insane, and responsibility is out of the question with respect to himself. it then descends upon the minister, who shelters himself under a majority in parliament, which, by places, pensions, and corruption, he can always command; and that majority justifies itself by the same authority with which it protects the minister. in this rotatory motion, responsibility is thrown off from the parts, and from the whole. when there is a part in a government which can do no wrong, it implies that it does nothing; and is only the machine of another power, by whose advice and direction it acts. what is supposed to be the king in the mixed governments, is the cabinet; and as the cabinet is always a part of the parliament, and the members justifying in one character what they advise and act in another, a mixed government becomes a continual enigma; entailing upon a country by the quantity of corruption necessary to solder the parts, the expense of supporting all the forms of government at once, and finally resolving itself into a government by committee; in which the advisers, the actors, the approvers, the justifiers, the persons responsible, and the persons not responsible, are the same persons. by this pantomimical contrivance, and change of scene and character, the parts help each other out in matters which neither of them singly would assume to act. when money is to be obtained, the mass of variety apparently dissolves, and a profusion of parliamentary praises passes between the parts. each admires with astonishment, the wisdom, the liberality, the disinterestedness of the other: and all of them breathe a pitying sigh at the burthens of the nation. but in a well-constituted republic, nothing of this soldering, praising, and pitying, can take place; the representation being equal throughout the country, and complete in itself, however it may be arranged into legislative and executive, they have all one and the same natural source. the parts are not foreigners to each other, like democracy, aristocracy, and monarchy. as there are no discordant distinctions, there is nothing to corrupt by compromise, nor confound by contrivance. public measures appeal of themselves to the understanding of the nation, and, resting on their own merits, disown any flattering applications to vanity. the continual whine of lamenting the burden of taxes, however successfully it may be practised in mixed governments, is inconsistent with the sense and spirit of a republic. if taxes are necessary, they are of course advantageous; but if they require an apology, the apology itself implies an impeachment. why, then, is man thus imposed upon, or why does he impose upon himself? when men are spoken of as kings and subjects, or when government is mentioned under the distinct and combined heads of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, what is it that reasoning man is to understand by the terms? if there really existed in the world two or more distinct and separate elements of human power, we should then see the several origins to which those terms would descriptively apply; but as there is but one species of man, there can be but one element of human power; and that element is man himself. monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, are but creatures of imagination; and a thousand such may be contrived as well as three. from the revolutions of america and france, and the symptoms that have appeared in other countries, it is evident that the opinion of the world is changing with respect to systems of government, and that revolutions are not within the compass of political calculations. the progress of time and circumstances, which men assign to the accomplishment of great changes, is too mechanical to measure the force of the mind, and the rapidity of reflection, by which revolutions are generated: all the old governments have received a shock from those that already appear, and which were once more improbable, and are a greater subject of wonder, than a general revolution in europe would be now. when we survey the wretched condition of man, under the monarchical and hereditary systems of government, dragged from his home by one power, or driven by another, and impoverished by taxes more than by enemies, it becomes evident that those systems are bad, and that a general revolution in the principle and construction of governments is necessary. what is government more than the management of the affairs of a nation? it is not, and from its nature cannot be, the property of any particular man or family, but of the whole community, at whose expense it is supported; and though by force and contrivance it has been usurped into an inheritance, the usurpation cannot alter the right of things. sovereignty, as a matter of right, appertains to the nation only, and not to any individual; and a nation has at all times an inherent indefeasible right to abolish any form of government it finds inconvenient, and to establish such as accords with its interest, disposition and happiness. the romantic and barbarous distinction of men into kings and subjects, though it may suit the condition of courtiers, cannot that of citizens; and is exploded by the principle upon which governments are now founded. every citizen is a member of the sovereignty, and, as such, can acknowledge no personal subjection; and his obedience can be only to the laws. when men think of what government is, they must necessarily suppose it to possess a knowledge of all the objects and matters upon which its authority is to be exercised. in this view of government, the republican system, as established by america and france, operates to embrace the whole of a nation; and the knowledge necessary to the interest of all the parts, is to be found in the center, which the parts by representation form: but the old governments are on a construction that excludes knowledge as well as happiness; government by monks, who knew nothing of the world beyond the walls of a convent, is as consistent as government by kings. what were formerly called revolutions, were little more than a change of persons, or an alteration of local circumstances. they rose and fell like things of course, and had nothing in their existence or their fate that could influence beyond the spot that produced them. but what we now see in the world, from the revolutions of america and france, are a renovation of the natural order of things, a system of principles as universal as truth and the existence of man, and combining moral with political happiness and national prosperity. "i. men are born, and always continue, free and equal in respect of their rights. civil distinctions, therefore, can be founded only on public utility. "ii. the end of all political associations is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man; and these rights are liberty, property, security, and resistance of oppression. "iii. the nation is essentially the source of all sovereignty; nor can any individual, or any body of men, be entitled to any authority which is not expressly derived from it." in these principles, there is nothing to throw a nation into confusion by inflaming ambition. they are calculated to call forth wisdom and abilities, and to exercise them for the public good, and not for the emolument or aggrandisement of particular descriptions of men or families. monarchical sovereignty, the enemy of mankind, and the source of misery, is abolished; and the sovereignty itself is restored to its natural and original place, the nation. were this the case throughout europe, the cause of wars would be taken away. it is attributed to henry the fourth of france, a man of enlarged and benevolent heart, that he proposed, about the year , a plan for abolishing war in europe. the plan consisted in constituting an european congress, or as the french authors style it, a pacific republic; by appointing delegates from the several nations who were to act as a court of arbitration in any disputes that might arise between nation and nation. had such a plan been adopted at the time it was proposed, the taxes of england and france, as two of the parties, would have been at least ten millions sterling annually to each nation less than they were at the commencement of the french revolution. to conceive a cause why such a plan has not been adopted (and that instead of a congress for the purpose of preventing war, it has been called only to terminate a war, after a fruitless expense of several years) it will be necessary to consider the interest of governments as a distinct interest to that of nations. whatever is the cause of taxes to a nation, becomes also the means of revenue to government. every war terminates with an addition of taxes, and consequently with an addition of revenue; and in any event of war, in the manner they are now commenced and concluded, the power and interest of governments are increased. war, therefore, from its productiveness, as it easily furnishes the pretence of necessity for taxes and appointments to places and offices, becomes a principal part of the system of old governments; and to establish any mode to abolish war, however advantageous it might be to nations, would be to take from such government the most lucrative of its branches. the frivolous matters upon which war is made, show the disposition and avidity of governments to uphold the system of war, and betray the motives upon which they act. why are not republics plunged into war, but because the nature of their government does not admit of an interest distinct from that of the nation? even holland, though an ill-constructed republic, and with a commerce extending over the world, existed nearly a century without war: and the instant the form of government was changed in france, the republican principles of peace and domestic prosperity and economy arose with the new government; and the same consequences would follow the cause in other nations. as war is the system of government on the old construction, the animosity which nations reciprocally entertain, is nothing more than what the policy of their governments excites to keep up the spirit of the system. each government accuses the other of perfidy, intrigue, and ambition, as a means of heating the imagination of their respective nations, and incensing them to hostilities. man is not the enemy of man, but through the medium of a false system of government. instead, therefore, of exclaiming against the ambition of kings, the exclamation should be directed against the principle of such governments; and instead of seeking to reform the individual, the wisdom of a nation should apply itself to reform the system. whether the forms and maxims of governments which are still in practice, were adapted to the condition of the world at the period they were established, is not in this case the question. the older they are, the less correspondence can they have with the present state of things. time, and change of circumstances and opinions, have the same progressive effect in rendering modes of government obsolete as they have upon customs and manners.--agriculture, commerce, manufactures, and the tranquil arts, by which the prosperity of nations is best promoted, require a different system of government, and a different species of knowledge to direct its operations, than what might have been required in the former condition of the world. as it is not difficult to perceive, from the enlightened state of mankind, that hereditary governments are verging to their decline, and that revolutions on the broad basis of national sovereignty and government by representation, are making their way in europe, it would be an act of wisdom to anticipate their approach, and produce revolutions by reason and accommodation, rather than commit them to the issue of convulsions. from what we now see, nothing of reform in the political world ought to be held improbable. it is an age of revolutions, in which everything may be looked for. the intrigue of courts, by which the system of war is kept up, may provoke a confederation of nations to abolish it: and an european congress to patronise the progress of free government, and promote the civilisation of nations with each other, is an event nearer in probability, than once were the revolutions and alliance of france and america. end of part i. rights of man. part second, combining principle and practice. by thomas paine. french translator's preface. ( ) the work of which we offer a translation to the public has created the greatest sensation in england. paine, that man of freedom, who seems born to preach "common sense" to the whole world with the same success as in america, explains in it to the people of england the theory of the practice of the rights of man. owing to the prejudices that still govern that nation, the author has been obliged to condescend to answer mr. burke. he has done so more especially in an extended preface which is nothing but a piece of very tedious controversy, in which he shows himself very sensitive to criticisms that do not really affect him. to translate it seemed an insult to the free french people, and similar reasons have led the editors to suppress also a dedicatory epistle addressed by paine to lafayette. the french can no longer endure dedicatory epistles. a man should write privately to those he esteems: when he publishes a book his thoughts should be offered to the public alone. paine, that uncorrupted friend of freedom, believed too in the sincerity of lafayette. so easy is it to deceive men of single-minded purpose! bred at a distance from courts, that austere american does not seem any more on his guard against the artful ways and speech of courtiers than some frenchmen who resemble him. to m. de la fayette after an acquaintance of nearly fifteen years in difficult situations in america, and various consultations in europe, i feel a pleasure in presenting to you this small treatise, in gratitude for your services to my beloved america, and as a testimony of my esteem for the virtues, public and private, which i know you to possess. the only point upon which i could ever discover that we differed was not as to principles of government, but as to time. for my own part i think it equally as injurious to good principles to permit them to linger, as to push them on too fast. that which you suppose accomplishable in fourteen or fifteen years, i may believe practicable in a much shorter period. mankind, as it appears to me, are always ripe enough to understand their true interest, provided it be presented clearly to their understanding, and that in a manner not to create suspicion by anything like self-design, nor offend by assuming too much. where we would wish to reform we must not reproach. when the american revolution was established i felt a disposition to sit serenely down and enjoy the calm. it did not appear to me that any object could afterwards arise great enough to make me quit tranquility and feel as i had felt before. but when principle, and not place, is the energetic cause of action, a man, i find, is everywhere the same. i am now once more in the public world; and as i have not a right to contemplate on so many years of remaining life as you have, i have resolved to labour as fast as i can; and as i am anxious for your aid and your company, i wish you to hasten your principles and overtake me. if you make a campaign the ensuing spring, which it is most probable there will be no occasion for, i will come and join you. should the campaign commence, i hope it will terminate in the extinction of german despotism, and in establishing the freedom of all germany. when france shall be surrounded with revolutions she will be in peace and safety, and her taxes, as well as those of germany, will consequently become less. your sincere,    affectionate friend,       thomas paine london, feb. , preface when i began the chapter entitled the "conclusion" in the former part of the rights of man, published last year, it was my intention to have extended it to a greater length; but in casting the whole matter in my mind, which i wish to add, i found that it must either make the work too bulky, or contract my plan too much. i therefore brought it to a close as soon as the subject would admit, and reserved what i had further to say to another opportunity. several other reasons contributed to produce this determination. i wished to know the manner in which a work, written in a style of thinking and expression different to what had been customary in england, would be received before i proceeded farther. a great field was opening to the view of mankind by means of the french revolution. mr. burke's outrageous opposition thereto brought the controversy into england. he attacked principles which he knew (from information) i would contest with him, because they are principles i believe to be good, and which i have contributed to establish, and conceive myself bound to defend. had he not urged the controversy, i had most probably been a silent man. another reason for deferring the remainder of the work was, that mr. burke promised in his first publication to renew the subject at another opportunity, and to make a comparison of what he called the english and french constitutions. i therefore held myself in reserve for him. he has published two works since, without doing this: which he certainly would not have omitted, had the comparison been in his favour. in his last work, his "appeal from the new to the old whigs," he has quoted about ten pages from the rights of man, and having given himself the trouble of doing this, says he "shall not attempt in the smallest degree to refute them," meaning the principles therein contained. i am enough acquainted with mr. burke to know that he would if he could. but instead of contesting them, he immediately after consoles himself with saying that "he has done his part."--he has not done his part. he has not performed his promise of a comparison of constitutions. he started the controversy, he gave the challenge, and has fled from it; and he is now a case in point with his own opinion that "the age of chivalry is gone!" the title, as well as the substance of his last work, his "appeal," is his condemnation. principles must stand on their own merits, and if they are good they certainly will. to put them under the shelter of other men's authority, as mr. burke has done, serves to bring them into suspicion. mr. burke is not very fond of dividing his honours, but in this case he is artfully dividing the disgrace. but who are those to whom mr. burke has made his appeal? a set of childish thinkers, and half-way politicians born in the last century, men who went no farther with any principle than as it suited their purposes as a party; the nation was always left out of the question; and this has been the character of every party from that day to this. the nation sees nothing of such works, or such politics, worthy its attention. a little matter will move a party, but it must be something great that moves a nation. though i see nothing in mr. burke's "appeal" worth taking much notice of, there is, however, one expression upon which i shall offer a few remarks. after quoting largely from the rights of man, and declining to contest the principles contained in that work, he says: "this will most probably be done (if such writings shall be thought to deserve any other refutation than that of criminal justice) by others, who may think with mr. burke and with the same zeal." in the first place, it has not yet been done by anybody. not less, i believe, than eight or ten pamphlets intended as answers to the former part of the rights of man have been published by different persons, and not one of them to my knowledge, has extended to a second edition, nor are even the titles of them so much as generally remembered. as i am averse to unnecessary multiplying publications, i have answered none of them. and as i believe that a man may write himself out of reputation when nobody else can do it, i am careful to avoid that rock. but as i would decline unnecessary publications on the one hand, so would i avoid everything that might appear like sullen pride on the other. if mr. burke, or any person on his side the question, will produce an answer to the rights of man that shall extend to a half, or even to a fourth part of the number of copies to which the rights of man extended, i will reply to his work. but until this be done, i shall so far take the sense of the public for my guide (and the world knows i am not a flatterer) that what they do not think worth while to read, is not worth mine to answer. i suppose the number of copies to which the first part of the rights of man extended, taking england, scotland, and ireland, is not less than between forty and fifty thousand. i now come to remark on the remaining part of the quotation i have made from mr. burke. "if," says he, "such writings shall be thought to deserve any other refutation than that of criminal justice." pardoning the pun, it must be criminal justice indeed that should condemn a work as a substitute for not being able to refute it. the greatest condemnation that could be passed upon it would be a refutation. but in proceeding by the method mr. burke alludes to, the condemnation would, in the final event, pass upon the criminality of the process and not upon the work, and in this case, i had rather be the author, than be either the judge or the jury that should condemn it. but to come at once to the point. i have differed from some professional gentlemen on the subject of prosecutions, and i since find they are falling into my opinion, which i will here state as fully, but as concisely as i can. i will first put a case with respect to any law, and then compare it with a government, or with what in england is, or has been, called a constitution. it would be an act of despotism, or what in england is called arbitrary power, to make a law to prohibit investigating the principles, good or bad, on which such a law, or any other is founded. if a law be bad it is one thing to oppose the practice of it, but it is quite a different thing to expose its errors, to reason on its defects, and to show cause why it should be repealed, or why another ought to be substituted in its place. i have always held it an opinion (making it also my practice) that it is better to obey a bad law, making use at the same time of every argument to show its errors and procure its repeal, than forcibly to violate it; because the precedent of breaking a bad law might weaken the force, and lead to a discretionary violation, of those which are good. the case is the same with respect to principles and forms of government, or to what are called constitutions and the parts of which they are, composed. it is for the good of nations and not for the emolument or aggrandisement of particular individuals, that government ought to be established, and that mankind are at the expense of supporting it. the defects of every government and constitution both as to principle and form, must, on a parity of reasoning, be as open to discussion as the defects of a law, and it is a duty which every man owes to society to point them out. when those defects, and the means of remedying them, are generally seen by a nation, that nation will reform its government or its constitution in the one case, as the government repealed or reformed the law in the other. the operation of government is restricted to the making and the administering of laws; but it is to a nation that the right of forming or reforming, generating or regenerating constitutions and governments belong; and consequently those subjects, as subjects of investigation, are always before a country as a matter of right, and cannot, without invading the general rights of that country, be made subjects for prosecution. on this ground i will meet mr. burke whenever he please. it is better that the whole argument should come out than to seek to stifle it. it was himself that opened the controversy, and he ought not to desert it. i do not believe that monarchy and aristocracy will continue seven years longer in any of the enlightened countries in europe. if better reasons can be shown for them than against them, they will stand; if the contrary, they will not. mankind are not now to be told they shall not think, or they shall not read; and publications that go no farther than to investigate principles of government, to invite men to reason and to reflect, and to show the errors and excellences of different systems, have a right to appear. if they do not excite attention, they are not worth the trouble of a prosecution; and if they do, the prosecution will amount to nothing, since it cannot amount to a prohibition of reading. this would be a sentence on the public, instead of the author, and would also be the most effectual mode of making or hastening revolution. on all cases that apply universally to a nation, with respect to systems of government, a jury of twelve men is not competent to decide. where there are no witnesses to be examined, no facts to be proved, and where the whole matter is before the whole public, and the merits or demerits of it resting on their opinion; and where there is nothing to be known in a court, but what every body knows out of it, every twelve men is equally as good a jury as the other, and would most probably reverse each other's verdict; or, from the variety of their opinions, not be able to form one. it is one case, whether a nation approve a work, or a plan; but it is quite another case, whether it will commit to any such jury the power of determining whether that nation have a right to, or shall reform its government or not. i mention those cases that mr. burke may see i have not written on government without reflecting on what is law, as well as on what are rights.--the only effectual jury in such cases would be a convention of the whole nation fairly elected; for in all such cases the whole nation is the vicinage. if mr. burke will propose such a jury, i will waive all privileges of being the citizen of another country, and, defending its principles, abide the issue, provided he will do the same; for my opinion is, that his work and his principles would be condemned instead of mine. as to the prejudices which men have from education and habit, in favour of any particular form or system of government, those prejudices have yet to stand the test of reason and reflection. in fact, such prejudices are nothing. no man is prejudiced in favour of a thing, knowing it to be wrong. he is attached to it on the belief of its being right; and when he sees it is not so, the prejudice will be gone. we have but a defective idea of what prejudice is. it might be said, that until men think for themselves the whole is prejudice, and not opinion; for that only is opinion which is the result of reason and reflection. i offer this remark, that mr. burke may not confide too much in what have been the customary prejudices of the country. i do not believe that the people of england have ever been fairly and candidly dealt by. they have been imposed upon by parties, and by men assuming the character of leaders. it is time that the nation should rise above those trifles. it is time to dismiss that inattention which has so long been the encouraging cause of stretching taxation to excess. it is time to dismiss all those songs and toasts which are calculated to enslave, and operate to suffocate reflection. on all such subjects men have but to think, and they will neither act wrong nor be misled. to say that any people are not fit for freedom, is to make poverty their choice, and to say they had rather be loaded with taxes than not. if such a case could be proved, it would equally prove that those who govern are not fit to govern them, for they are a part of the same national mass. but admitting governments to be changed all over europe; it certainly may be done without convulsion or revenge. it is not worth making changes or revolutions, unless it be for some great national benefit: and when this shall appear to a nation, the danger will be, as in america and france, to those who oppose; and with this reflection i close my preface.                     thomas paine london, feb. , rights of man part ii. introduction. what archimedes said of the mechanical powers, may be applied to reason and liberty. "had we," said he, "a place to stand upon, we might raise the world." the revolution of america presented in politics what was only theory in mechanics. so deeply rooted were all the governments of the old world, and so effectually had the tyranny and the antiquity of habit established itself over the mind, that no beginning could be made in asia, africa, or europe, to reform the political condition of man. freedom had been hunted round the globe; reason was considered as rebellion; and the slavery of fear had made men afraid to think. but such is the irresistible nature of truth, that all it asks,--and all it wants,--is the liberty of appearing. the sun needs no inscription to distinguish him from darkness; and no sooner did the american governments display themselves to the world, than despotism felt a shock and man began to contemplate redress. the independence of america, considered merely as a separation from england, would have been a matter but of little importance, had it not been accompanied by a revolution in the principles and practice of governments. she made a stand, not for herself only, but for the world, and looked beyond the advantages herself could receive. even the hessian, though hired to fight against her, may live to bless his defeat; and england, condemning the viciousness of its government, rejoice in its miscarriage. as america was the only spot in the political world where the principle of universal reformation could begin, so also was it the best in the natural world. an assemblage of circumstances conspired, not only to give birth, but to add gigantic maturity to its principles. the scene which that country presents to the eye of a spectator, has something in it which generates and encourages great ideas. nature appears to him in magnitude. the mighty objects he beholds, act upon his mind by enlarging it, and he partakes of the greatness he contemplates.--its first settlers were emigrants from different european nations, and of diversified professions of religion, retiring from the governmental persecutions of the old world, and meeting in the new, not as enemies, but as brothers. the wants which necessarily accompany the cultivation of a wilderness produced among them a state of society, which countries long harassed by the quarrels and intrigues of governments, had neglected to cherish. in such a situation man becomes what he ought. he sees his species, not with the inhuman idea of a natural enemy, but as kindred; and the example shows to the artificial world, that man must go back to nature for information. from the rapid progress which america makes in every species of improvement, it is rational to conclude that, if the governments of asia, africa, and europe had begun on a principle similar to that of america, or had not been very early corrupted therefrom, those countries must by this time have been in a far superior condition to what they are. age after age has passed away, for no other purpose than to behold their wretchedness. could we suppose a spectator who knew nothing of the world, and who was put into it merely to make his observations, he would take a great part of the old world to be new, just struggling with the difficulties and hardships of an infant settlement. he could not suppose that the hordes of miserable poor with which old countries abound could be any other than those who had not yet had time to provide for themselves. little would he think they were the consequence of what in such countries they call government. if, from the more wretched parts of the old world, we look at those which are in an advanced stage of improvement we still find the greedy hand of government thrusting itself into every corner and crevice of industry, and grasping the spoil of the multitude. invention is continually exercised to furnish new pretences for revenue and taxation. it watches prosperity as its prey, and permits none to escape without a tribute. as revolutions have begun (and as the probability is always greater against a thing beginning, than of proceeding after it has begun), it is natural to expect that other revolutions will follow. the amazing and still increasing expenses with which old governments are conducted, the numerous wars they engage in or provoke, the embarrassments they throw in the way of universal civilisation and commerce, and the oppression and usurpation acted at home, have wearied out the patience, and exhausted the property of the world. in such a situation, and with such examples already existing, revolutions are to be looked for. they are become subjects of universal conversation, and may be considered as the order of the day. if systems of government can be introduced less expensive and more productive of general happiness than those which have existed, all attempts to oppose their progress will in the end be fruitless. reason, like time, will make its own way, and prejudice will fall in a combat with interest. if universal peace, civilisation, and commerce are ever to be the happy lot of man, it cannot be accomplished but by a revolution in the system of governments. all the monarchical governments are military. war is their trade, plunder and revenue their objects. while such governments continue, peace has not the absolute security of a day. what is the history of all monarchical governments but a disgustful picture of human wretchedness, and the accidental respite of a few years' repose? wearied with war, and tired with human butchery, they sat down to rest, and called it peace. this certainly is not the condition that heaven intended for man; and if this be monarchy, well might monarchy be reckoned among the sins of the jews. the revolutions which formerly took place in the world had nothing in them that interested the bulk of mankind. they extended only to a change of persons and measures, but not of principles, and rose or fell among the common transactions of the moment. what we now behold may not improperly be called a "counter-revolution." conquest and tyranny, at some earlier period, dispossessed man of his rights, and he is now recovering them. and as the tide of all human affairs has its ebb and flow in directions contrary to each other, so also is it in this. government founded on a moral theory, on a system of universal peace, on the indefeasible hereditary rights of man, is now revolving from west to east by a stronger impulse than the government of the sword revolved from east to west. it interests not particular individuals, but nations in its progress, and promises a new era to the human race. the danger to which the success of revolutions is most exposed is that of attempting them before the principles on which they proceed, and the advantages to result from them, are sufficiently seen and understood. almost everything appertaining to the circumstances of a nation, has been absorbed and confounded under the general and mysterious word government. though it avoids taking to its account the errors it commits, and the mischiefs it occasions, it fails not to arrogate to itself whatever has the appearance of prosperity. it robs industry of its honours, by pedantically making itself the cause of its effects; and purloins from the general character of man, the merits that appertain to him as a social being. it may therefore be of use in this day of revolutions to discriminate between those things which are the effect of government, and those which are not. this will best be done by taking a review of society and civilisation, and the consequences resulting therefrom, as things distinct from what are called governments. by beginning with this investigation, we shall be able to assign effects to their proper causes and analyse the mass of common errors. chapter i. of society and civilisation great part of that order which reigns among mankind is not the effect of government. it has its origin in the principles of society and the natural constitution of man. it existed prior to government, and would exist if the formality of government was abolished. the mutual dependence and reciprocal interest which man has upon man, and all the parts of civilised community upon each other, create that great chain of connection which holds it together. the landholder, the farmer, the manufacturer, the merchant, the tradesman, and every occupation, prospers by the aid which each receives from the other, and from the whole. common interest regulates their concerns, and forms their law; and the laws which common usage ordains, have a greater influence than the laws of government. in fine, society performs for itself almost everything which is ascribed to government. to understand the nature and quantity of government proper for man, it is necessary to attend to his character. as nature created him for social life, she fitted him for the station she intended. in all cases she made his natural wants greater than his individual powers. no one man is capable, without the aid of society, of supplying his own wants, and those wants, acting upon every individual, impel the whole of them into society, as naturally as gravitation acts to a centre. but she has gone further. she has not only forced man into society by a diversity of wants which the reciprocal aid of each other can supply, but she has implanted in him a system of social affections, which, though not necessary to his existence, are essential to his happiness. there is no period in life when this love for society ceases to act. it begins and ends with our being. if we examine with attention into the composition and constitution of man, the diversity of his wants, and the diversity of talents in different men for reciprocally accommodating the wants of each other, his propensity to society, and consequently to preserve the advantages resulting from it, we shall easily discover, that a great part of what is called government is mere imposition. government is no farther necessary than to supply the few cases to which society and civilisation are not conveniently competent; and instances are not wanting to show, that everything which government can usefully add thereto, has been performed by the common consent of society, without government. for upwards of two years from the commencement of the american war, and to a longer period in several of the american states, there were no established forms of government. the old governments had been abolished, and the country was too much occupied in defence to employ its attention in establishing new governments; yet during this interval order and harmony were preserved as inviolate as in any country in europe. there is a natural aptness in man, and more so in society, because it embraces a greater variety of abilities and resource, to accommodate itself to whatever situation it is in. the instant formal government is abolished, society begins to act: a general association takes place, and common interest produces common security. so far is it from being true, as has been pretended, that the abolition of any formal government is the dissolution of society, that it acts by a contrary impulse, and brings the latter the closer together. all that part of its organisation which it had committed to its government, devolves again upon itself, and acts through its medium. when men, as well from natural instinct as from reciprocal benefits, have habituated themselves to social and civilised life, there is always enough of its principles in practice to carry them through any changes they may find necessary or convenient to make in their government. in short, man is so naturally a creature of society that it is almost impossible to put him out of it. formal government makes but a small part of civilised life; and when even the best that human wisdom can devise is established, it is a thing more in name and idea than in fact. it is to the great and fundamental principles of society and civilisation--to the common usage universally consented to, and mutually and reciprocally maintained--to the unceasing circulation of interest, which, passing through its million channels, invigorates the whole mass of civilised man--it is to these things, infinitely more than to anything which even the best instituted government can perform, that the safety and prosperity of the individual and of the whole depends. the more perfect civilisation is, the less occasion has it for government, because the more does it regulate its own affairs, and govern itself; but so contrary is the practice of old governments to the reason of the case, that the expenses of them increase in the proportion they ought to diminish. it is but few general laws that civilised life requires, and those of such common usefulness, that whether they are enforced by the forms of government or not, the effect will be nearly the same. if we consider what the principles are that first condense men into society, and what are the motives that regulate their mutual intercourse afterwards, we shall find, by the time we arrive at what is called government, that nearly the whole of the business is performed by the natural operation of the parts upon each other. man, with respect to all those matters, is more a creature of consistency than he is aware, or than governments would wish him to believe. all the great laws of society are laws of nature. those of trade and commerce, whether with respect to the intercourse of individuals or of nations, are laws of mutual and reciprocal interest. they are followed and obeyed, because it is the interest of the parties so to do, and not on account of any formal laws their governments may impose or interpose. but how often is the natural propensity to society disturbed or destroyed by the operations of government! when the latter, instead of being ingrafted on the principles of the former, assumes to exist for itself, and acts by partialities of favour and oppression, it becomes the cause of the mischiefs it ought to prevent. if we look back to the riots and tumults which at various times have happened in england, we shall find that they did not proceed from the want of a government, but that government was itself the generating cause; instead of consolidating society it divided it; it deprived it of its natural cohesion, and engendered discontents and disorders which otherwise would not have existed. in those associations which men promiscuously form for the purpose of trade, or of any concern in which government is totally out of the question, and in which they act merely on the principles of society, we see how naturally the various parties unite; and this shows, by comparison, that governments, so far from being always the cause or means of order, are often the destruction of it. the riots of had no other source than the remains of those prejudices which the government itself had encouraged. but with respect to england there are also other causes. excess and inequality of taxation, however disguised in the means, never fail to appear in their effects. as a great mass of the community are thrown thereby into poverty and discontent, they are constantly on the brink of commotion; and deprived, as they unfortunately are, of the means of information, are easily heated to outrage. whatever the apparent cause of any riots may be, the real one is always want of happiness. it shows that something is wrong in the system of government that injures the felicity by which society is to be preserved. but as a fact is superior to reasoning, the instance of america presents itself to confirm these observations. if there is a country in the world where concord, according to common calculation, would be least expected, it is america. made up as it is of people from different nations,*[ ] accustomed to different forms and habits of government, speaking different languages, and more different in their modes of worship, it would appear that the union of such a people was impracticable; but by the simple operation of constructing government on the principles of society and the rights of man, every difficulty retires, and all the parts are brought into cordial unison. there the poor are not oppressed, the rich are not privileged. industry is not mortified by the splendid extravagance of a court rioting at its expense. their taxes are few, because their government is just: and as there is nothing to render them wretched, there is nothing to engender riots and tumults. a metaphysical man, like mr. burke, would have tortured his invention to discover how such a people could be governed. he would have supposed that some must be managed by fraud, others by force, and all by some contrivance; that genius must be hired to impose upon ignorance, and show and parade to fascinate the vulgar. lost in the abundance of his researches, he would have resolved and re-resolved, and finally overlooked the plain and easy road that lay directly before him. one of the great advantages of the american revolution has been, that it led to a discovery of the principles, and laid open the imposition, of governments. all the revolutions till then had been worked within the atmosphere of a court, and never on the grand floor of a nation. the parties were always of the class of courtiers; and whatever was their rage for reformation, they carefully preserved the fraud of the profession. in all cases they took care to represent government as a thing made up of mysteries, which only themselves understood; and they hid from the understanding of the nation the only thing that was beneficial to know, namely, that government is nothing more than a national association adding on the principles of society. having thus endeavoured to show that the social and civilised state of man is capable of performing within itself almost everything necessary to its protection and government, it will be proper, on the other hand, to take a review of the present old governments, and examine whether their principles and practice are correspondent thereto. chapter ii. of the origin of the present old governments it is impossible that such governments as have hitherto existed in the world, could have commenced by any other means than a total violation of every principle sacred and moral. the obscurity in which the origin of all the present old governments is buried, implies the iniquity and disgrace with which they began. the origin of the present government of america and france will ever be remembered, because it is honourable to record it; but with respect to the rest, even flattery has consigned them to the tomb of time, without an inscription. it could have been no difficult thing in the early and solitary ages of the world, while the chief employment of men was that of attending flocks and herds, for a banditti of ruffians to overrun a country, and lay it under contributions. their power being thus established, the chief of the band contrived to lose the name of robber in that of monarch; and hence the origin of monarchy and kings. the origin of the government of england, so far as relates to what is called its line of monarchy, being one of the latest, is perhaps the best recorded. the hatred which the norman invasion and tyranny begat, must have been deeply rooted in the nation, to have outlived the contrivance to obliterate it. though not a courtier will talk of the curfew-bell, not a village in england has forgotten it. those bands of robbers having parcelled out the world, and divided it into dominions, began, as is naturally the case, to quarrel with each other. what at first was obtained by violence was considered by others as lawful to be taken, and a second plunderer succeeded the first. they alternately invaded the dominions which each had assigned to himself, and the brutality with which they treated each other explains the original character of monarchy. it was ruffian torturing ruffian. the conqueror considered the conquered, not as his prisoner, but his property. he led him in triumph rattling in chains, and doomed him, at pleasure, to slavery or death. as time obliterated the history of their beginning, their successors assumed new appearances, to cut off the entail of their disgrace, but their principles and objects remained the same. what at first was plunder, assumed the softer name of revenue; and the power originally usurped, they affected to inherit. from such beginning of governments, what could be expected but a continued system of war and extortion? it has established itself into a trade. the vice is not peculiar to one more than to another, but is the common principle of all. there does not exist within such governments sufficient stamina whereon to engraft reformation; and the shortest and most effectual remedy is to begin anew on the ground of the nation. what scenes of horror, what perfection of iniquity, present themselves in contemplating the character and reviewing the history of such governments! if we would delineate human nature with a baseness of heart and hypocrisy of countenance that reflection would shudder at and humanity disown, it is kings, courts and cabinets that must sit for the portrait. man, naturally as he is, with all his faults about him, is not up to the character. can we possibly suppose that if governments had originated in a right principle, and had not an interest in pursuing a wrong one, the world could have been in the wretched and quarrelsome condition we have seen it? what inducement has the farmer, while following the plough, to lay aside his peaceful pursuit, and go to war with the farmer of another country? or what inducement has the manufacturer? what is dominion to them, or to any class of men in a nation? does it add an acre to any man's estate, or raise its value? are not conquest and defeat each of the same price, and taxes the never-failing consequence?--though this reasoning may be good to a nation, it is not so to a government. war is the pharo-table of governments, and nations the dupes of the game. if there is anything to wonder at in this miserable scene of governments more than might be expected, it is the progress which the peaceful arts of agriculture, manufacture and commerce have made beneath such a long accumulating load of discouragement and oppression. it serves to show that instinct in animals does not act with stronger impulse than the principles of society and civilisation operate in man. under all discouragements, he pursues his object, and yields to nothing but impossibilities. chapter iii. of the old and new systems of government nothing can appear more contradictory than the principles on which the old governments began, and the condition to which society, civilisation and commerce are capable of carrying mankind. government, on the old system, is an assumption of power, for the aggrandisement of itself; on the new, a delegation of power for the common benefit of society. the former supports itself by keeping up a system of war; the latter promotes a system of peace, as the true means of enriching a nation. the one encourages national prejudices; the other promotes universal society, as the means of universal commerce. the one measures its prosperity, by the quantity of revenue it extorts; the other proves its excellence, by the small quantity of taxes it requires. mr. burke has talked of old and new whigs. if he can amuse himself with childish names and distinctions, i shall not interrupt his pleasure. it is not to him, but to the abbe sieyes, that i address this chapter. i am already engaged to the latter gentleman to discuss the subject of monarchical government; and as it naturally occurs in comparing the old and new systems, i make this the opportunity of presenting to him my observations. i shall occasionally take mr. burke in my way. though it might be proved that the system of government now called the new, is the most ancient in principle of all that have existed, being founded on the original, inherent rights of man: yet, as tyranny and the sword have suspended the exercise of those rights for many centuries past, it serves better the purpose of distinction to call it the new, than to claim the right of calling it the old. the first general distinction between those two systems, is, that the one now called the old is hereditary, either in whole or in part; and the new is entirely representative. it rejects all hereditary government: first, as being an imposition on mankind. secondly, as inadequate to the purposes for which government is necessary. with respect to the first of these heads--it cannot be proved by what right hereditary government could begin; neither does there exist within the compass of mortal power a right to establish it. man has no authority over posterity in matters of personal right; and, therefore, no man, or body of men, had, or can have, a right to set up hereditary government. were even ourselves to come again into existence, instead of being succeeded by posterity, we have not now the right of taking from ourselves the rights which would then be ours. on what ground, then, do we pretend to take them from others? all hereditary government is in its nature tyranny. an heritable crown, or an heritable throne, or by what other fanciful name such things may be called, have no other significant explanation than that mankind are heritable property. to inherit a government, is to inherit the people, as if they were flocks and herds. with respect to the second head, that of being inadequate to the purposes for which government is necessary, we have only to consider what government essentially is, and compare it with the circumstances to which hereditary succession is subject. government ought to be a thing always in full maturity. it ought to be so constructed as to be superior to all the accidents to which individual man is subject; and, therefore, hereditary succession, by being subject to them all, is the most irregular and imperfect of all the systems of government. we have heard the rights of man called a levelling system; but the only system to which the word levelling is truly applicable, is the hereditary monarchical system. it is a system of mental levelling. it indiscriminately admits every species of character to the same authority. vice and virtue, ignorance and wisdom, in short, every quality good or bad, is put on the same level. kings succeed each other, not as rationals, but as animals. it signifies not what their mental or moral characters are. can we then be surprised at the abject state of the human mind in monarchical countries, when the government itself is formed on such an abject levelling system?--it has no fixed character. to-day it is one thing; to-morrow it is something else. it changes with the temper of every succeeding individual, and is subject to all the varieties of each. it is government through the medium of passions and accidents. it appears under all the various characters of childhood, decrepitude, dotage, a thing at nurse, in leading-strings, or in crutches. it reverses the wholesome order of nature. it occasionally puts children over men, and the conceits of nonage over wisdom and experience. in short, we cannot conceive a more ridiculous figure of government, than hereditary succession, in all its cases, presents. could it be made a decree in nature, or an edict registered in heaven, and man could know it, that virtue and wisdom should invariably appertain to hereditary succession, the objection to it would be removed; but when we see that nature acts as if she disowned and sported with the hereditary system; that the mental character of successors, in all countries, is below the average of human understanding; that one is a tyrant, another an idiot, a third insane, and some all three together, it is impossible to attach confidence to it, when reason in man has power to act. it is not to the abbe sieyes that i need apply this reasoning; he has already saved me that trouble by giving his own opinion upon the case. "if it be asked," says he, "what is my opinion with respect to hereditary right, i answer without hesitation, that in good theory, an hereditary transmission of any power of office, can never accord with the laws of a true representation. hereditaryship is, in this sense, as much an attaint upon principle, as an outrage upon society. but let us," continues he, "refer to the history of all elective monarchies and principalities: is there one in which the elective mode is not worse than the hereditary succession?" as to debating on which is the worst of the two, it is admitting both to be bad; and herein we are agreed. the preference which the abbe has given, is a condemnation of the thing that he prefers. such a mode of reasoning on such a subject is inadmissible, because it finally amounts to an accusation upon providence, as if she had left to man no other choice with respect to government than between two evils, the best of which he admits to be "an attaint upon principle, and an outrage upon society." passing over, for the present, all the evils and mischiefs which monarchy has occasioned in the world, nothing can more effectually prove its uselessness in a state of civil government, than making it hereditary. would we make any office hereditary that required wisdom and abilities to fill it? and where wisdom and abilities are not necessary, such an office, whatever it may be, is superfluous or insignificant. hereditary succession is a burlesque upon monarchy. it puts it in the most ridiculous light, by presenting it as an office which any child or idiot may fill. it requires some talents to be a common mechanic; but to be a king requires only the animal figure of man--a sort of breathing automaton. this sort of superstition may last a few years more, but it cannot long resist the awakened reason and interest of man. as to mr. burke, he is a stickler for monarchy, not altogether as a pensioner, if he is one, which i believe, but as a political man. he has taken up a contemptible opinion of mankind, who, in their turn, are taking up the same of him. he considers them as a herd of beings that must be governed by fraud, effigy, and show; and an idol would be as good a figure of monarchy with him, as a man. i will, however, do him the justice to say that, with respect to america, he has been very complimentary. he always contended, at least in my hearing, that the people of america were more enlightened than those of england, or of any country in europe; and that therefore the imposition of show was not necessary in their governments. though the comparison between hereditary and elective monarchy, which the abbe has made, is unnecessary to the case, because the representative system rejects both: yet, were i to make the comparison, i should decide contrary to what he has done. the civil wars which have originated from contested hereditary claims, are more numerous, and have been more dreadful, and of longer continuance, than those which have been occasioned by election. all the civil wars in france arose from the hereditary system; they were either produced by hereditary claims, or by the imperfection of the hereditary form, which admits of regencies or monarchy at nurse. with respect to england, its history is full of the same misfortunes. the contests for succession between the houses of york and lancaster lasted a whole century; and others of a similar nature have renewed themselves since that period. those of and were of the same kind. the succession war for the crown of spain embroiled almost half europe. the disturbances of holland are generated from the hereditaryship of the stadtholder. a government calling itself free, with an hereditary office, is like a thorn in the flesh, that produces a fermentation which endeavours to discharge it. but i might go further, and place also foreign wars, of whatever kind, to the same cause. it is by adding the evil of hereditary succession to that of monarchy, that a permanent family interest is created, whose constant objects are dominion and revenue. poland, though an elective monarchy, has had fewer wars than those which are hereditary; and it is the only government that has made a voluntary essay, though but a small one, to reform the condition of the country. having thus glanced at a few of the defects of the old, or hereditary systems of government, let us compare it with the new, or representative system. the representative system takes society and civilisation for its basis; nature, reason, and experience, for its guide. experience, in all ages, and in all countries, has demonstrated that it is impossible to control nature in her distribution of mental powers. she gives them as she pleases. whatever is the rule by which she, apparently to us, scatters them among mankind, that rule remains a secret to man. it would be as ridiculous to attempt to fix the hereditaryship of human beauty, as of wisdom. whatever wisdom constituently is, it is like a seedless plant; it may be reared when it appears, but it cannot be voluntarily produced. there is always a sufficiency somewhere in the general mass of society for all purposes; but with respect to the parts of society, it is continually changing its place. it rises in one to-day, in another to-morrow, and has most probably visited in rotation every family of the earth, and again withdrawn. as this is in the order of nature, the order of government must necessarily follow it, or government will, as we see it does, degenerate into ignorance. the hereditary system, therefore, is as repugnant to human wisdom as to human rights; and is as absurd as it is unjust. as the republic of letters brings forward the best literary productions, by giving to genius a fair and universal chance; so the representative system of government is calculated to produce the wisest laws, by collecting wisdom from where it can be found. i smile to myself when i contemplate the ridiculous insignificance into which literature and all the sciences would sink, were they made hereditary; and i carry the same idea into governments. an hereditary governor is as inconsistent as an hereditary author. i know not whether homer or euclid had sons; but i will venture an opinion that if they had, and had left their works unfinished, those sons could not have completed them. do we need a stronger evidence of the absurdity of hereditary government than is seen in the descendants of those men, in any line of life, who once were famous? is there scarcely an instance in which there is not a total reverse of the character? it appears as if the tide of mental faculties flowed as far as it could in certain channels, and then forsook its course, and arose in others. how irrational then is the hereditary system, which establishes channels of power, in company with which wisdom refuses to flow! by continuing this absurdity, man is perpetually in contradiction with himself; he accepts, for a king, or a chief magistrate, or a legislator, a person whom he would not elect for a constable. it appears to general observation, that revolutions create genius and talents; but those events do no more than bring them forward. there is existing in man, a mass of sense lying in a dormant state, and which, unless something excites it to action, will descend with him, in that condition, to the grave. as it is to the advantage of society that the whole of its faculties should be employed, the construction of government ought to be such as to bring forward, by a quiet and regular operation, all that extent of capacity which never fails to appear in revolutions. this cannot take place in the insipid state of hereditary government, not only because it prevents, but because it operates to benumb. when the mind of a nation is bowed down by any political superstition in its government, such as hereditary succession is, it loses a considerable portion of its powers on all other subjects and objects. hereditary succession requires the same obedience to ignorance, as to wisdom; and when once the mind can bring itself to pay this indiscriminate reverence, it descends below the stature of mental manhood. it is fit to be great only in little things. it acts a treachery upon itself, and suffocates the sensations that urge the detection. though the ancient governments present to us a miserable picture of the condition of man, there is one which above all others exempts itself from the general description. i mean the democracy of the athenians. we see more to admire, and less to condemn, in that great, extraordinary people, than in anything which history affords. mr. burke is so little acquainted with constituent principles of government, that he confounds democracy and representation together. representation was a thing unknown in the ancient democracies. in those the mass of the people met and enacted laws (grammatically speaking) in the first person. simple democracy was no other than the common hall of the ancients. it signifies the form, as well as the public principle of the government. as those democracies increased in population, and the territory extended, the simple democratical form became unwieldy and impracticable; and as the system of representation was not known, the consequence was, they either degenerated convulsively into monarchies, or became absorbed into such as then existed. had the system of representation been then understood, as it now is, there is no reason to believe that those forms of government, now called monarchical or aristocratical, would ever have taken place. it was the want of some method to consolidate the parts of society, after it became too populous, and too extensive for the simple democratical form, and also the lax and solitary condition of shepherds and herdsmen in other parts of the world, that afforded opportunities to those unnatural modes of government to begin. as it is necessary to clear away the rubbish of errors, into which the subject of government has been thrown, i will proceed to remark on some others. it has always been the political craft of courtiers and court-governments, to abuse something which they called republicanism; but what republicanism was, or is, they never attempt to explain. let us examine a little into this case. the only forms of government are the democratical, the aristocratical, the monarchical, and what is now called the representative. what is called a republic is not any particular form of government. it is wholly characteristical of the purport, matter or object for which government ought to be instituted, and on which it is to be employed, res-publica, the public affairs, or the public good; or, literally translated, the public thing. it is a word of a good original, referring to what ought to be the character and business of government; and in this sense it is naturally opposed to the word monarchy, which has a base original signification. it means arbitrary power in an individual person; in the exercise of which, himself, and not the res-publica, is the object. every government that does not act on the principle of a republic, or in other words, that does not make the res-publica its whole and sole object, is not a good government. republican government is no other than government established and conducted for the interest of the public, as well individually as collectively. it is not necessarily connected with any particular form, but it most naturally associates with the representative form, as being best calculated to secure the end for which a nation is at the expense of supporting it. various forms of government have affected to style themselves a republic. poland calls itself a republic, which is an hereditary aristocracy, with what is called an elective monarchy. holland calls itself a republic, which is chiefly aristocratical, with an hereditary stadtholdership. but the government of america, which is wholly on the system of representation, is the only real republic, in character and in practice, that now exists. its government has no other object than the public business of the nation, and therefore it is properly a republic; and the americans have taken care that this, and no other, shall always be the object of their government, by their rejecting everything hereditary, and establishing governments on the system of representation only. those who have said that a republic is not a form of government calculated for countries of great extent, mistook, in the first place, the business of a government, for a form of government; for the res-publica equally appertains to every extent of territory and population. and, in the second place, if they meant anything with respect to form, it was the simple democratical form, such as was the mode of government in the ancient democracies, in which there was no representation. the case, therefore, is not, that a republic cannot be extensive, but that it cannot be extensive on the simple democratical form; and the question naturally presents itself, what is the best form of government for conducting the res-publica, or the public business of a nation, after it becomes too extensive and populous for the simple democratical form? it cannot be monarchy, because monarchy is subject to an objection of the same amount to which the simple democratical form was subject. it is possible that an individual may lay down a system of principles, on which government shall be constitutionally established to any extent of territory. this is no more than an operation of the mind, acting by its own powers. but the practice upon those principles, as applying to the various and numerous circumstances of a nation, its agriculture, manufacture, trade, commerce, etc., etc., a knowledge of a different kind, and which can be had only from the various parts of society. it is an assemblage of practical knowledge, which no individual can possess; and therefore the monarchical form is as much limited, in useful practice, from the incompetency of knowledge, as was the democratical form, from the multiplicity of population. the one degenerates, by extension, into confusion; the other, into ignorance and incapacity, of which all the great monarchies are an evidence. the monarchical form, therefore, could not be a substitute for the democratical, because it has equal inconveniences. much less could it when made hereditary. this is the most effectual of all forms to preclude knowledge. neither could the high democratical mind have voluntarily yielded itself to be governed by children and idiots, and all the motley insignificance of character, which attends such a mere animal system, the disgrace and the reproach of reason and of man. as to the aristocratical form, it has the same vices and defects with the monarchical, except that the chance of abilities is better from the proportion of numbers, but there is still no security for the right use and application of them.*[ ] referring them to the original simple democracy, it affords the true data from which government on a large scale can begin. it is incapable of extension, not from its principle, but from the inconvenience of its form; and monarchy and aristocracy, from their incapacity. retaining, then, democracy as the ground, and rejecting the corrupt systems of monarchy and aristocracy, the representative system naturally presents itself; remedying at once the defects of the simple democracy as to form, and the incapacity of the other two with respect to knowledge. simple democracy was society governing itself without the aid of secondary means. by ingrafting representation upon democracy, we arrive at a system of government capable of embracing and confederating all the various interests and every extent of territory and population; and that also with advantages as much superior to hereditary government, as the republic of letters is to hereditary literature. it is on this system that the american government is founded. it is representation ingrafted upon democracy. it has fixed the form by a scale parallel in all cases to the extent of the principle. what athens was in miniature america will be in magnitude. the one was the wonder of the ancient world; the other is becoming the admiration of the present. it is the easiest of all the forms of government to be understood and the most eligible in practice; and excludes at once the ignorance and insecurity of the hereditary mode, and the inconvenience of the simple democracy. it is impossible to conceive a system of government capable of acting over such an extent of territory, and such a circle of interests, as is immediately produced by the operation of representation. france, great and populous as it is, is but a spot in the capaciousness of the system. it is preferable to simple democracy even in small territories. athens, by representation, would have outrivalled her own democracy. that which is called government, or rather that which we ought to conceive government to be, is no more than some common center in which all the parts of society unite. this cannot be accomplished by any method so conducive to the various interests of the community, as by the representative system. it concentrates the knowledge necessary to the interest of the parts, and of the whole. it places government in a state of constant maturity. it is, as has already been observed, never young, never old. it is subject neither to nonage, nor dotage. it is never in the cradle, nor on crutches. it admits not of a separation between knowledge and power, and is superior, as government always ought to be, to all the accidents of individual man, and is therefore superior to what is called monarchy. a nation is not a body, the figure of which is to be represented by the human body; but is like a body contained within a circle, having a common center, in which every radius meets; and that center is formed by representation. to connect representation with what is called monarchy, is eccentric government. representation is of itself the delegated monarchy of a nation, and cannot debase itself by dividing it with another. mr. burke has two or three times, in his parliamentary speeches, and in his publications, made use of a jingle of words that convey no ideas. speaking of government, he says, "it is better to have monarchy for its basis, and republicanism for its corrective, than republicanism for its basis, and monarchy for its corrective."--if he means that it is better to correct folly with wisdom, than wisdom with folly, i will no otherwise contend with him, than that it would be much better to reject the folly entirely. but what is this thing which mr. burke calls monarchy? will he explain it? all men can understand what representation is; and that it must necessarily include a variety of knowledge and talents. but what security is there for the same qualities on the part of monarchy? or, when the monarchy is a child, where then is the wisdom? what does it know about government? who then is the monarch, or where is the monarchy? if it is to be performed by regency, it proves to be a farce. a regency is a mock species of republic, and the whole of monarchy deserves no better description. it is a thing as various as imagination can paint. it has none of the stable character that government ought to possess. every succession is a revolution, and every regency a counter-revolution. the whole of it is a scene of perpetual court cabal and intrigue, of which mr. burke is himself an instance. to render monarchy consistent with government, the next in succession should not be born a child, but a man at once, and that man a solomon. it is ridiculous that nations are to wait and government be interrupted till boys grow to be men. whether i have too little sense to see, or too much to be imposed upon; whether i have too much or too little pride, or of anything else, i leave out of the question; but certain it is, that what is called monarchy, always appears to me a silly, contemptible thing. i compare it to something kept behind a curtain, about which there is a great deal of bustle and fuss, and a wonderful air of seeming solemnity; but when, by any accident, the curtain happens to be open--and the company see what it is, they burst into laughter. in the representative system of government, nothing of this can happen. like the nation itself, it possesses a perpetual stamina, as well of body as of mind, and presents itself on the open theatre of the world in a fair and manly manner. whatever are its excellences or defects, they are visible to all. it exists not by fraud and mystery; it deals not in cant and sophistry; but inspires a language that, passing from heart to heart, is felt and understood. we must shut our eyes against reason, we must basely degrade our understanding, not to see the folly of what is called monarchy. nature is orderly in all her works; but this is a mode of government that counteracts nature. it turns the progress of the human faculties upside down. it subjects age to be governed by children, and wisdom by folly. on the contrary, the representative system is always parallel with the order and immutable laws of nature, and meets the reason of man in every part. for example: in the american federal government, more power is delegated to the president of the united states than to any other individual member of congress. he cannot, therefore, be elected to this office under the age of thirty-five years. by this time the judgment of man becomes more matured, and he has lived long enough to be acquainted with men and things, and the country with him.--but on the monarchial plan (exclusive of the numerous chances there are against every man born into the world, of drawing a prize in the lottery of human faculties), the next in succession, whatever he may be, is put at the head of a nation, and of a government, at the age of eighteen years. does this appear like an action of wisdom? is it consistent with the proper dignity and the manly character of a nation? where is the propriety of calling such a lad the father of the people?--in all other cases, a person is a minor until the age of twenty-one years. before this period, he is not trusted with the management of an acre of land, or with the heritable property of a flock of sheep, or an herd of swine; but, wonderful to tell! he may, at the age of eighteen years, be trusted with a nation. that monarchy is all a bubble, a mere court artifice to procure money, is evident (at least to me) in every character in which it can be viewed. it would be impossible, on the rational system of representative government, to make out a bill of expenses to such an enormous amount as this deception admits. government is not of itself a very chargeable institution. the whole expense of the federal government of america, founded, as i have already said, on the system of representation, and extending over a country nearly ten times as large as england, is but six hundred thousand dollars, or one hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds sterling. i presume that no man in his sober senses will compare the character of any of the kings of europe with that of general washington. yet, in france, and also in england, the expense of the civil list only, for the support of one man, is eight times greater than the whole expense of the federal government in america. to assign a reason for this, appears almost impossible. the generality of people in america, especially the poor, are more able to pay taxes, than the generality of people either in france or england. but the case is, that the representative system diffuses such a body of knowledge throughout a nation, on the subject of government, as to explode ignorance and preclude imposition. the craft of courts cannot be acted on that ground. there is no place for mystery; nowhere for it to begin. those who are not in the representation, know as much of the nature of business as those who are. an affectation of mysterious importance would there be scouted. nations can have no secrets; and the secrets of courts, like those of individuals, are always their defects. in the representative system, the reason for everything must publicly appear. every man is a proprietor in government, and considers it a necessary part of his business to understand. it concerns his interest, because it affects his property. he examines the cost, and compares it with the advantages; and above all, he does not adopt the slavish custom of following what in other governments are called leaders. it can only be by blinding the understanding of man, and making him believe that government is some wonderful mysterious thing, that excessive revenues are obtained. monarchy is well calculated to ensure this end. it is the popery of government; a thing kept up to amuse the ignorant, and quiet them into taxes. the government of a free country, properly speaking, is not in the persons, but in the laws. the enacting of those requires no great expense; and when they are administered, the whole of civil government is performed--the rest is all court contrivance. chapter iv. of constitutions that men mean distinct and separate things when they speak of constitutions and of governments, is evident; or why are those terms distinctly and separately used? a constitution is not the act of a government, but of a people constituting a government; and government without a constitution, is power without a right. all power exercised over a nation, must have some beginning. it must either be delegated or assumed. there are no other sources. all delegated power is trust, and all assumed power is usurpation. time does not alter the nature and quality of either. in viewing this subject, the case and circumstances of america present themselves as in the beginning of a world; and our enquiry into the origin of government is shortened, by referring to the facts that have arisen in our own day. we have no occasion to roam for information into the obscure field of antiquity, nor hazard ourselves upon conjecture. we are brought at once to the point of seeing government begin, as if we had lived in the beginning of time. the real volume, not of history, but of facts, is directly before us, unmutilated by contrivance, or the errors of tradition. i will here concisely state the commencement of the american constitutions; by which the difference between constitutions and governments will sufficiently appear. it may not appear improper to remind the reader that the united states of america consist of thirteen separate states, each of which established a government for itself, after the declaration of independence, done the th of july, . each state acted independently of the rest, in forming its governments; but the same general principle pervades the whole. when the several state governments were formed, they proceeded to form the federal government, that acts over the whole in all matters which concern the interest of the whole, or which relate to the intercourse of the several states with each other, or with foreign nations. i will begin with giving an instance from one of the state governments (that of pennsylvania) and then proceed to the federal government. the state of pennsylvania, though nearly of the same extent of territory as england, was then divided into only twelve counties. each of those counties had elected a committee at the commencement of the dispute with the english government; and as the city of philadelphia, which also had its committee, was the most central for intelligence, it became the center of communication to the several country committees. when it became necessary to proceed to the formation of a government, the committee of philadelphia proposed a conference of all the committees, to be held in that city, and which met the latter end of july, . though these committees had been duly elected by the people, they were not elected expressly for the purpose, nor invested with the authority of forming a constitution; and as they could not, consistently with the american idea of rights, assume such a power, they could only confer upon the matter, and put it into a train of operation. the conferees, therefore, did no more than state the case, and recommend to the several counties to elect six representatives for each county, to meet in convention at philadelphia, with powers to form a constitution, and propose it for public consideration. this convention, of which benjamin franklin was president, having met and deliberated, and agreed upon a constitution, they next ordered it to be published, not as a thing established, but for the consideration of the whole people, their approbation or rejection, and then adjourned to a stated time. when the time of adjournment was expired, the convention re-assembled; and as the general opinion of the people in approbation of it was then known, the constitution was signed, sealed, and proclaimed on the authority of the people and the original instrument deposited as a public record. the convention then appointed a day for the general election of the representatives who were to compose the government, and the time it should commence; and having done this they dissolved, and returned to their several homes and occupations. in this constitution were laid down, first, a declaration of rights; then followed the form which the government should have, and the powers it should possess--the authority of the courts of judicature, and of juries--the manner in which elections should be conducted, and the proportion of representatives to the number of electors--the time which each succeeding assembly should continue, which was one year--the mode of levying, and of accounting for the expenditure, of public money--of appointing public officers, etc., etc., etc. no article of this constitution could be altered or infringed at the discretion of the government that was to ensue. it was to that government a law. but as it would have been unwise to preclude the benefit of experience, and in order also to prevent the accumulation of errors, if any should be found, and to preserve an unison of government with the circumstances of the state at all times, the constitution provided that, at the expiration of every seven years, a convention should be elected, for the express purpose of revising the constitution, and making alterations, additions, or abolitions therein, if any such should be found necessary. here we see a regular process--a government issuing out of a constitution, formed by the people in their original character; and that constitution serving, not only as an authority, but as a law of control to the government. it was the political bible of the state. scarcely a family was without it. every member of the government had a copy; and nothing was more common, when any debate arose on the principle of a bill, or on the extent of any species of authority, than for the members to take the printed constitution out of their pocket, and read the chapter with which such matter in debate was connected. having thus given an instance from one of the states, i will show the proceedings by which the federal constitution of the united states arose and was formed. congress, at its two first meetings, in september , and may , was nothing more than a deputation from the legislatures of the several provinces, afterwards states; and had no other authority than what arose from common consent, and the necessity of its acting as a public body. in everything which related to the internal affairs of america, congress went no further than to issue recommendations to the several provincial assemblies, who at discretion adopted them or not. nothing on the part of congress was compulsive; yet, in this situation, it was more faithfully and affectionately obeyed than was any government in europe. this instance, like that of the national assembly in france, sufficiently shows, that the strength of government does not consist in any thing itself, but in the attachment of a nation, and the interest which a people feel in supporting it. when this is lost, government is but a child in power; and though, like the old government in france, it may harass individuals for a while, it but facilitates its own fall. after the declaration of independence, it became consistent with the principle on which representative government is founded, that the authority of congress should be defined and established. whether that authority should be more or less than congress then discretionarily exercised was not the question. it was merely the rectitude of the measure. for this purpose, the act, called the act of confederation (which was a sort of imperfect federal constitution), was proposed, and, after long deliberation, was concluded in the year . it was not the act of congress, because it is repugnant to the principles of representative government that a body should give power to itself. congress first informed the several states, of the powers which it conceived were necessary to be invested in the union, to enable it to perform the duties and services required from it; and the states severally agreed with each other, and concentrated in congress those powers. it may not be improper to observe that in both those instances (the one of pennsylvania, and the other of the united states), there is no such thing as the idea of a compact between the people on one side, and the government on the other. the compact was that of the people with each other, to produce and constitute a government. to suppose that any government can be a party in a compact with the whole people, is to suppose it to have existence before it can have a right to exist. the only instance in which a compact can take place between the people and those who exercise the government, is, that the people shall pay them, while they choose to employ them. government is not a trade which any man, or any body of men, has a right to set up and exercise for his own emolument, but is altogether a trust, in right of those by whom that trust is delegated, and by whom it is always resumeable. it has of itself no rights; they are altogether duties. having thus given two instances of the original formation of a constitution, i will show the manner in which both have been changed since their first establishment. the powers vested in the governments of the several states, by the state constitutions, were found, upon experience, to be too great; and those vested in the federal government, by the act of confederation, too little. the defect was not in the principle, but in the distribution of power. numerous publications, in pamphlets and in the newspapers, appeared, on the propriety and necessity of new modelling the federal government. after some time of public discussion, carried on through the channel of the press, and in conversations, the state of virginia, experiencing some inconvenience with respect to commerce, proposed holding a continental conference; in consequence of which, a deputation from five or six state assemblies met at annapolis, in maryland, in . this meeting, not conceiving itself sufficiently authorised to go into the business of a reform, did no more than state their general opinions of the propriety of the measure, and recommend that a convention of all the states should be held the year following. the convention met at philadelphia in may, , of which general washington was elected president. he was not at that time connected with any of the state governments, or with congress. he delivered up his commission when the war ended, and since then had lived a private citizen. the convention went deeply into all the subjects; and having, after a variety of debate and investigation, agreed among themselves upon the several parts of a federal constitution, the next question was, the manner of giving it authority and practice. for this purpose they did not, like a cabal of courtiers, send for a dutch stadtholder, or a german elector; but they referred the whole matter to the sense and interest of the country. they first directed that the proposed constitution should be published. secondly, that each state should elect a convention, expressly for the purpose of taking it into consideration, and of ratifying or rejecting it; and that as soon as the approbation and ratification of any nine states should be given, that those states shall proceed to the election of their proportion of members to the new federal government; and that the operation of it should then begin, and the former federal government cease. the several states proceeded accordingly to elect their conventions. some of those conventions ratified the constitution by very large majorities, and two or three unanimously. in others there were much debate and division of opinion. in the massachusetts convention, which met at boston, the majority was not above nineteen or twenty, in about three hundred members; but such is the nature of representative government, that it quietly decides all matters by majority. after the debate in the massachusetts convention was closed, and the vote taken, the objecting members rose and declared, "that though they had argued and voted against it, because certain parts appeared to them in a different light to what they appeared to other members; yet, as the vote had decided in favour of the constitution as proposed, they should give it the same practical support as if they had for it." as soon as nine states had concurred (and the rest followed in the order their conventions were elected), the old fabric of the federal government was taken down, and the new one erected, of which general washington is president.--in this place i cannot help remarking, that the character and services of this gentleman are sufficient to put all those men called kings to shame. while they are receiving from the sweat and labours of mankind, a prodigality of pay, to which neither their abilities nor their services can entitle them, he is rendering every service in his power, and refusing every pecuniary reward. he accepted no pay as commander-in-chief; he accepts none as president of the united states. after the new federal constitution was established, the state of pennsylvania, conceiving that some parts of its own constitution required to be altered, elected a convention for that purpose. the proposed alterations were published, and the people concurring therein, they were established. in forming those constitutions, or in altering them, little or no inconvenience took place. the ordinary course of things was not interrupted, and the advantages have been much. it is always the interest of a far greater number of people in a nation to have things right, than to let them remain wrong; and when public matters are open to debate, and the public judgment free, it will not decide wrong, unless it decides too hastily. in the two instances of changing the constitutions, the governments then in being were not actors either way. government has no right to make itself a party in any debate respecting the principles or modes of forming, or of changing, constitutions. it is not for the benefit of those who exercise the powers of government that constitutions, and the governments issuing from them, are established. in all those matters the right of judging and acting are in those who pay, and not in those who receive. a constitution is the property of a nation, and not of those who exercise the government. all the constitutions of america are declared to be established on the authority of the people. in france, the word nation is used instead of the people; but in both cases, a constitution is a thing antecedent to the government, and always distinct there from. in england it is not difficult to perceive that everything has a constitution, except the nation. every society and association that is established, first agreed upon a number of original articles, digested into form, which are its constitution. it then appointed its officers, whose powers and authorities are described in that constitution, and the government of that society then commenced. those officers, by whatever name they are called, have no authority to add to, alter, or abridge the original articles. it is only to the constituting power that this right belongs. from the want of understanding the difference between a constitution and a government, dr. johnson, and all writers of his description, have always bewildered themselves. they could not but perceive, that there must necessarily be a controlling power existing somewhere, and they placed this power in the discretion of the persons exercising the government, instead of placing it in a constitution formed by the nation. when it is in a constitution, it has the nation for its support, and the natural and the political controlling powers are together. the laws which are enacted by governments, control men only as individuals, but the nation, through its constitution, controls the whole government, and has a natural ability to do so. the final controlling power, therefore, and the original constituting power, are one and the same power. dr. johnson could not have advanced such a position in any country where there was a constitution; and he is himself an evidence that no such thing as a constitution exists in england. but it may be put as a question, not improper to be investigated, that if a constitution does not exist, how came the idea of its existence so generally established? in order to decide this question, it is necessary to consider a constitution in both its cases:--first, as creating a government and giving it powers. secondly, as regulating and restraining the powers so given. if we begin with william of normandy, we find that the government of england was originally a tyranny, founded on an invasion and conquest of the country. this being admitted, it will then appear, that the exertion of the nation, at different periods, to abate that tyranny, and render it less intolerable, has been credited for a constitution. magna charta, as it was called (it is now like an almanack of the same date), was no more than compelling the government to renounce a part of its assumptions. it did not create and give powers to government in a manner a constitution does; but was, as far as it went, of the nature of a re-conquest, and not a constitution; for could the nation have totally expelled the usurpation, as france has done its despotism, it would then have had a constitution to form. the history of the edwards and the henries, and up to the commencement of the stuarts, exhibits as many instances of tyranny as could be acted within the limits to which the nation had restricted it. the stuarts endeavoured to pass those limits, and their fate is well known. in all those instances we see nothing of a constitution, but only of restrictions on assumed power. after this, another william, descended from the same stock, and claiming from the same origin, gained possession; and of the two evils, james and william, the nation preferred what it thought the least; since, from circumstances, it must take one. the act, called the bill of rights, comes here into view. what is it, but a bargain, which the parts of the government made with each other to divide powers, profits, and privileges? you shall have so much, and i will have the rest; and with respect to the nation, it said, for your share, you shall have the right of petitioning. this being the case, the bill of rights is more properly a bill of wrongs, and of insult. as to what is called the convention parliament, it was a thing that made itself, and then made the authority by which it acted. a few persons got together, and called themselves by that name. several of them had never been elected, and none of them for the purpose. from the time of william a species of government arose, issuing out of this coalition bill of rights; and more so, since the corruption introduced at the hanover succession by the agency of walpole; that can be described by no other name than a despotic legislation. though the parts may embarrass each other, the whole has no bounds; and the only right it acknowledges out of itself, is the right of petitioning. where then is the constitution either that gives or restrains power? it is not because a part of the government is elective, that makes it less a despotism, if the persons so elected possess afterwards, as a parliament, unlimited powers. election, in this case, becomes separated from representation, and the candidates are candidates for despotism. i cannot believe that any nation, reasoning on its own rights, would have thought of calling these things a constitution, if the cry of constitution had not been set up by the government. it has got into circulation like the words bore and quoz [quiz], by being chalked up in the speeches of parliament, as those words were on window shutters and doorposts; but whatever the constitution may be in other respects, it has undoubtedly been the most productive machine of taxation that was ever invented. the taxes in france, under the new constitution, are not quite thirteen shillings per head,*[ ] and the taxes in england, under what is called its present constitution, are forty-eight shillings and sixpence per head--men, women, and children--amounting to nearly seventeen millions sterling, besides the expense of collecting, which is upwards of a million more. in a country like england, where the whole of the civil government is executed by the people of every town and county, by means of parish officers, magistrates, quarterly sessions, juries, and assize; without any trouble to what is called the government or any other expense to the revenue than the salary of the judges, it is astonishing how such a mass of taxes can be employed. not even the internal defence of the country is paid out of the revenue. on all occasions, whether real or contrived, recourse is continually had to new loans and new taxes. no wonder, then, that a machine of government so advantageous to the advocates of a court, should be so triumphantly extolled! no wonder, that st. james's or st. stephen's should echo with the continual cry of constitution; no wonder, that the french revolution should be reprobated, and the res-publica treated with reproach! the red book of england, like the red book of france, will explain the reason.*[ ] i will now, by way of relaxation, turn a thought or two to mr. burke. i ask his pardon for neglecting him so long. "america," says he (in his speech on the canada constitution bill), "never dreamed of such absurd doctrine as the rights of man." mr. burke is such a bold presumer, and advances his assertions and his premises with such a deficiency of judgment, that, without troubling ourselves about principles of philosophy or politics, the mere logical conclusions they produce, are ridiculous. for instance, if governments, as mr. burke asserts, are not founded on the rights of man, and are founded on any rights at all, they consequently must be founded on the right of something that is not man. what then is that something? generally speaking, we know of no other creatures that inhabit the earth than man and beast; and in all cases, where only two things offer themselves, and one must be admitted, a negation proved on any one, amounts to an affirmative on the other; and therefore, mr. burke, by proving against the rights of man, proves in behalf of the beast; and consequently, proves that government is a beast; and as difficult things sometimes explain each other, we now see the origin of keeping wild beasts in the tower; for they certainly can be of no other use than to show the origin of the government. they are in the place of a constitution. o john bull, what honours thou hast lost by not being a wild beast. thou mightest, on mr. burke's system, have been in the tower for life. if mr. burke's arguments have not weight enough to keep one serious, the fault is less mine than his; and as i am willing to make an apology to the reader for the liberty i have taken, i hope mr. burke will also make his for giving the cause. having thus paid mr. burke the compliment of remembering him, i return to the subject. from the want of a constitution in england to restrain and regulate the wild impulse of power, many of the laws are irrational and tyrannical, and the administration of them vague and problematical. the attention of the government of england (for i rather choose to call it by this name than the english government) appears, since its political connection with germany, to have been so completely engrossed and absorbed by foreign affairs, and the means of raising taxes, that it seems to exist for no other purposes. domestic concerns are neglected; and with respect to regular law, there is scarcely such a thing. almost every case must now be determined by some precedent, be that precedent good or bad, or whether it properly applies or not; and the practice is become so general as to suggest a suspicion, that it proceeds from a deeper policy than at first sight appears. since the revolution of america, and more so since that of france, this preaching up the doctrines of precedents, drawn from times and circumstances antecedent to those events, has been the studied practice of the english government. the generality of those precedents are founded on principles and opinions, the reverse of what they ought; and the greater distance of time they are drawn from, the more they are to be suspected. but by associating those precedents with a superstitious reverence for ancient things, as monks show relics and call them holy, the generality of mankind are deceived into the design. governments now act as if they were afraid to awaken a single reflection in man. they are softly leading him to the sepulchre of precedents, to deaden his faculties and call attention from the scene of revolutions. they feel that he is arriving at knowledge faster than they wish, and their policy of precedents is the barometer of their fears. this political popery, like the ecclesiastical popery of old, has had its day, and is hastening to its exit. the ragged relic and the antiquated precedent, the monk and the monarch, will moulder together. government by precedent, without any regard to the principle of the precedent, is one of the vilest systems that can be set up. in numerous instances, the precedent ought to operate as a warning, and not as an example, and requires to be shunned instead of imitated; but instead of this, precedents are taken in the lump, and put at once for constitution and for law. either the doctrine of precedents is policy to keep a man in a state of ignorance, or it is a practical confession that wisdom degenerates in governments as governments increase in age, and can only hobble along by the stilts and crutches of precedents. how is it that the same persons who would proudly be thought wiser than their predecessors, appear at the same time only as the ghosts of departed wisdom? how strangely is antiquity treated! to some purposes it is spoken of as the times of darkness and ignorance, and to answer others, it is put for the light of the world. if the doctrine of precedents is to be followed, the expenses of government need not continue the same. why pay men extravagantly, who have but little to do? if everything that can happen is already in precedent, legislation is at an end, and precedent, like a dictionary, determines every case. either, therefore, government has arrived at its dotage, and requires to be renovated, or all the occasions for exercising its wisdom have occurred. we now see all over europe, and particularly in england, the curious phenomenon of a nation looking one way, and the government the other--the one forward and the other backward. if governments are to go on by precedent, while nations go on by improvement, they must at last come to a final separation; and the sooner, and the more civilly they determine this point, the better.*[ ] having thus spoken of constitutions generally, as things distinct from actual governments, let us proceed to consider the parts of which a constitution is composed. opinions differ more on this subject than with respect to the whole. that a nation ought to have a constitution, as a rule for the conduct of its government, is a simple question in which all men, not directly courtiers, will agree. it is only on the component parts that questions and opinions multiply. but this difficulty, like every other, will diminish when put into a train of being rightly understood. the first thing is, that a nation has a right to establish a constitution. whether it exercises this right in the most judicious manner at first is quite another case. it exercises it agreeably to the judgment it possesses; and by continuing to do so, all errors will at last be exploded. when this right is established in a nation, there is no fear that it will be employed to its own injury. a nation can have no interest in being wrong. though all the constitutions of america are on one general principle, yet no two of them are exactly alike in their component parts, or in the distribution of the powers which they give to the actual governments. some are more, and others less complex. in forming a constitution, it is first necessary to consider what are the ends for which government is necessary? secondly, what are the best means, and the least expensive, for accomplishing those ends? government is nothing more than a national association; and the object of this association is the good of all, as well individually as collectively. every man wishes to pursue his occupation, and to enjoy the fruits of his labours and the produce of his property in peace and safety, and with the least possible expense. when these things are accomplished, all the objects for which government ought to be established are answered. it has been customary to consider government under three distinct general heads. the legislative, the executive, and the judicial. but if we permit our judgment to act unincumbered by the habit of multiplied terms, we can perceive no more than two divisions of power, of which civil government is composed, namely, that of legislating or enacting laws, and that of executing or administering them. everything, therefore, appertaining to civil government, classes itself under one or other of these two divisions. so far as regards the execution of the laws, that which is called the judicial power, is strictly and properly the executive power of every country. it is that power to which every individual has appeal, and which causes the laws to be executed; neither have we any other clear idea with respect to the official execution of the laws. in england, and also in america and france, this power begins with the magistrate, and proceeds up through all the courts of judicature. i leave to courtiers to explain what is meant by calling monarchy the executive power. it is merely a name in which acts of government are done; and any other, or none at all, would answer the same purpose. laws have neither more nor less authority on this account. it must be from the justness of their principles, and the interest which a nation feels therein, that they derive support; if they require any other than this, it is a sign that something in the system of government is imperfect. laws difficult to be executed cannot be generally good. with respect to the organization of the legislative power, different modes have been adopted in different countries. in america it is generally composed of two houses. in france it consists but of one, but in both countries, it is wholly by representation. the case is, that mankind (from the long tyranny of assumed power) have had so few opportunities of making the necessary trials on modes and principles of government, in order to discover the best, that government is but now beginning to be known, and experience is yet wanting to determine many particulars. the objections against two houses are, first, that there is an inconsistency in any part of a whole legislature, coming to a final determination by vote on any matter, whilst that matter, with respect to that whole, is yet only in a train of deliberation, and consequently open to new illustrations. secondly, that by taking the vote on each, as a separate body, it always admits of the possibility, and is often the case in practice, that the minority governs the majority, and that, in some instances, to a degree of great inconsistency. thirdly, that two houses arbitrarily checking or controlling each other is inconsistent; because it cannot be proved on the principles of just representation, that either should be wiser or better than the other. they may check in the wrong as well as in the right therefore to give the power where we cannot give the wisdom to use it, nor be assured of its being rightly used, renders the hazard at least equal to the precaution.*[ ] the objection against a single house is, that it is always in a condition of committing itself too soon.--but it should at the same time be remembered, that when there is a constitution which defines the power, and establishes the principles within which a legislature shall act, there is already a more effectual check provided, and more powerfully operating, than any other check can be. for example, were a bill to be brought into any of the american legislatures similar to that which was passed into an act by the english parliament, at the commencement of george the first, to extend the duration of the assemblies to a longer period than they now sit, the check is in the constitution, which in effect says, thus far shalt thou go and no further. but in order to remove the objection against a single house (that of acting with too quick an impulse), and at the same time to avoid the inconsistencies, in some cases absurdities, arising from two houses, the following method has been proposed as an improvement upon both. first, to have but one representation. secondly, to divide that representation, by lot, into two or three parts. thirdly, that every proposed bill shall be first debated in those parts by succession, that they may become the hearers of each other, but without taking any vote. after which the whole representation to assemble for a general debate and determination by vote. to this proposed improvement has been added another, for the purpose of keeping the representation in the state of constant renovation; which is, that one-third of the representation of each county, shall go out at the expiration of one year, and the number be replaced by new elections. another third at the expiration of the second year replaced in like manner, and every third year to be a general election.*[ ] but in whatever manner the separate parts of a constitution may be arranged, there is one general principle that distinguishes freedom from slavery, which is, that all hereditary government over a people is to them a species of slavery, and representative government is freedom. considering government in the only light in which it should be considered, that of a national association, it ought to be so constructed as not to be disordered by any accident happening among the parts; and, therefore, no extraordinary power, capable of producing such an effect, should be lodged in the hands of any individual. the death, sickness, absence or defection, of any one individual in a government, ought to be a matter of no more consequence, with respect to the nation, than if the same circumstance had taken place in a member of the english parliament, or the french national assembly. scarcely anything presents a more degrading character of national greatness, than its being thrown into confusion, by anything happening to or acted by any individual; and the ridiculousness of the scene is often increased by the natural insignificance of the person by whom it is occasioned. were a government so constructed, that it could not go on unless a goose or a gander were present in the senate, the difficulties would be just as great and as real, on the flight or sickness of the goose, or the gander, as if it were called a king. we laugh at individuals for the silly difficulties they make to themselves, without perceiving that the greatest of all ridiculous things are acted in governments.*[ ] all the constitutions of america are on a plan that excludes the childish embarrassments which occur in monarchical countries. no suspension of government can there take place for a moment, from any circumstances whatever. the system of representation provides for everything, and is the only system in which nations and governments can always appear in their proper character. as extraordinary power ought not to be lodged in the hands of any individual, so ought there to be no appropriations of public money to any person, beyond what his services in a state may be worth. it signifies not whether a man be called a president, a king, an emperor, a senator, or by any other name which propriety or folly may devise or arrogance assume; it is only a certain service he can perform in the state; and the service of any such individual in the routine of office, whether such office be called monarchical, presidential, senatorial, or by any other name or title, can never exceed the value of ten thousand pounds a year. all the great services that are done in the world are performed by volunteer characters, who accept nothing for them; but the routine of office is always regulated to such a general standard of abilities as to be within the compass of numbers in every country to perform, and therefore cannot merit very extraordinary recompense. government, says swift, is a plain thing, and fitted to the capacity of many heads. it is inhuman to talk of a million sterling a year, paid out of the public taxes of any country, for the support of any individual, whilst thousands who are forced to contribute thereto, are pining with want, and struggling with misery. government does not consist in a contrast between prisons and palaces, between poverty and pomp; it is not instituted to rob the needy of his mite, and increase the wretchedness of the wretched.--but on this part of the subject i shall speak hereafter, and confine myself at present to political observations. when extraordinary power and extraordinary pay are allotted to any individual in a government, he becomes the center, round which every kind of corruption generates and forms. give to any man a million a year, and add thereto the power of creating and disposing of places, at the expense of a country, and the liberties of that country are no longer secure. what is called the splendour of a throne is no other than the corruption of the state. it is made up of a band of parasites, living in luxurious indolence, out of the public taxes. when once such a vicious system is established it becomes the guard and protection of all inferior abuses. the man who is in the receipt of a million a year is the last person to promote a spirit of reform, lest, in the event, it should reach to himself. it is always his interest to defend inferior abuses, as so many outworks to protect the citadel; and on this species of political fortification, all the parts have such a common dependence that it is never to be expected they will attack each other.*[ ] monarchy would not have continued so many ages in the world, had it not been for the abuses it protects. it is the master-fraud, which shelters all others. by admitting a participation of the spoil, it makes itself friends; and when it ceases to do this it will cease to be the idol of courtiers. as the principle on which constitutions are now formed rejects all hereditary pretensions to government, it also rejects all that catalogue of assumptions known by the name of prerogatives. if there is any government where prerogatives might with apparent safety be entrusted to any individual, it is in the federal government of america. the president of the united states of america is elected only for four years. he is not only responsible in the general sense of the word, but a particular mode is laid down in the constitution for trying him. he cannot be elected under thirty-five years of age; and he must be a native of the country. in a comparison of these cases with the government of england, the difference when applied to the latter amounts to an absurdity. in england the person who exercises prerogative is often a foreigner; always half a foreigner, and always married to a foreigner. he is never in full natural or political connection with the country, is not responsible for anything, and becomes of age at eighteen years; yet such a person is permitted to form foreign alliances, without even the knowledge of the nation, and to make war and peace without its consent. but this is not all. though such a person cannot dispose of the government in the manner of a testator, he dictates the marriage connections, which, in effect, accomplish a great part of the same end. he cannot directly bequeath half the government to prussia, but he can form a marriage partnership that will produce almost the same thing. under such circumstances, it is happy for england that she is not situated on the continent, or she might, like holland, fall under the dictatorship of prussia. holland, by marriage, is as effectually governed by prussia, as if the old tyranny of bequeathing the government had been the means. the presidency in america (or, as it is sometimes called, the executive) is the only office from which a foreigner is excluded, and in england it is the only one to which he is admitted. a foreigner cannot be a member of parliament, but he may be what is called a king. if there is any reason for excluding foreigners, it ought to be from those offices where mischief can most be acted, and where, by uniting every bias of interest and attachment, the trust is best secured. but as nations proceed in the great business of forming constitutions, they will examine with more precision into the nature and business of that department which is called the executive. what the legislative and judicial departments are every one can see; but with respect to what, in europe, is called the executive, as distinct from those two, it is either a political superfluity or a chaos of unknown things. some kind of official department, to which reports shall be made from the different parts of a nation, or from abroad, to be laid before the national representatives, is all that is necessary; but there is no consistency in calling this the executive; neither can it be considered in any other light than as inferior to the legislative. the sovereign authority in any country is the power of making laws, and everything else is an official department. next to the arrangement of the principles and the organization of the several parts of a constitution, is the provision to be made for the support of the persons to whom the nation shall confide the administration of the constitutional powers. a nation can have no right to the time and services of any person at his own expense, whom it may choose to employ or entrust in any department whatever; neither can any reason be given for making provision for the support of any one part of a government and not for the other. but admitting that the honour of being entrusted with any part of a government is to be considered a sufficient reward, it ought to be so to every person alike. if the members of the legislature of any country are to serve at their own expense that which is called the executive, whether monarchical or by any other name, ought to serve in like manner. it is inconsistent to pay the one, and accept the service of the other gratis. in america, every department in the government is decently provided for; but no one is extravagantly paid. every member of congress, and of the assemblies, is allowed a sufficiency for his expenses. whereas in england, a most prodigal provision is made for the support of one part of the government, and none for the other, the consequence of which is that the one is furnished with the means of corruption and the other is put into the condition of being corrupted. less than a fourth part of such expense, applied as it is in america, would remedy a great part of the corruption. another reform in the american constitution is the exploding all oaths of personality. the oath of allegiance in america is to the nation only. the putting any individual as a figure for a nation is improper. the happiness of a nation is the superior object, and therefore the intention of an oath of allegiance ought not to be obscured by being figuratively taken, to, or in the name of, any person. the oath, called the civic oath, in france, viz., "the nation, the law, and the king," is improper. if taken at all, it ought to be as in america, to the nation only. the law may or may not be good; but, in this place, it can have no other meaning, than as being conducive to the happiness of a nation, and therefore is included in it. the remainder of the oath is improper, on the ground, that all personal oaths ought to be abolished. they are the remains of tyranny on one part and slavery on the other; and the name of the creator ought not to be introduced to witness the degradation of his creation; or if taken, as is already mentioned, as figurative of the nation, it is in this place redundant. but whatever apology may be made for oaths at the first establishment of a government, they ought not to be permitted afterwards. if a government requires the support of oaths, it is a sign that it is not worth supporting, and ought not to be supported. make government what it ought to be, and it will support itself. to conclude this part of the subject:--one of the greatest improvements that have been made for the perpetual security and progress of constitutional liberty, is the provision which the new constitutions make for occasionally revising, altering, and amending them. the principle upon which mr. burke formed his political creed, that of "binding and controlling posterity to the end of time, and of renouncing and abdicating the rights of all posterity, for ever," is now become too detestable to be made a subject of debate; and therefore, i pass it over with no other notice than exposing it. government is but now beginning to be known. hitherto it has been the mere exercise of power, which forbade all effectual enquiry into rights, and grounded itself wholly on possession. while the enemy of liberty was its judge, the progress of its principles must have been small indeed. the constitutions of america, and also that of france, have either affixed a period for their revision, or laid down the mode by which improvement shall be made. it is perhaps impossible to establish anything that combines principles with opinions and practice, which the progress of circumstances, through a length of years, will not in some measure derange, or render inconsistent; and, therefore, to prevent inconveniences accumulating, till they discourage reformations or provoke revolutions, it is best to provide the means of regulating them as they occur. the rights of man are the rights of all generations of men, and cannot be monopolised by any. that which is worth following, will be followed for the sake of its worth, and it is in this that its security lies, and not in any conditions with which it may be encumbered. when a man leaves property to his heirs, he does not connect it with an obligation that they shall accept it. why, then, should we do otherwise with respect to constitutions? the best constitution that could now be devised, consistent with the condition of the present moment, may be far short of that excellence which a few years may afford. there is a morning of reason rising upon man on the subject of government, that has not appeared before. as the barbarism of the present old governments expires, the moral conditions of nations with respect to each other will be changed. man will not be brought up with the savage idea of considering his species as his enemy, because the accident of birth gave the individuals existence in countries distinguished by different names; and as constitutions have always some relation to external as well as to domestic circumstances, the means of benefitting by every change, foreign or domestic, should be a part of every constitution. we already see an alteration in the national disposition of england and france towards each other, which, when we look back to only a few years, is itself a revolution. who could have foreseen, or who could have believed, that a french national assembly would ever have been a popular toast in england, or that a friendly alliance of the two nations should become the wish of either? it shows that man, were he not corrupted by governments, is naturally the friend of man, and that human nature is not of itself vicious. that spirit of jealousy and ferocity, which the governments of the two countries inspired, and which they rendered subservient to the purpose of taxation, is now yielding to the dictates of reason, interest, and humanity. the trade of courts is beginning to be understood, and the affectation of mystery, with all the artificial sorcery by which they imposed upon mankind, is on the decline. it has received its death-wound; and though it may linger, it will expire. government ought to be as much open to improvement as anything which appertains to man, instead of which it has been monopolised from age to age, by the most ignorant and vicious of the human race. need we any other proof of their wretched management, than the excess of debts and taxes with which every nation groans, and the quarrels into which they have precipitated the world? just emerging from such a barbarous condition, it is too soon to determine to what extent of improvement government may yet be carried. for what we can foresee, all europe may form but one great republic, and man be free of the whole. chapter v. ways and means of improving the condition of europe interspersed with miscellaneous observations in contemplating a subject that embraces with equatorial magnitude the whole region of humanity it is impossible to confine the pursuit in one single direction. it takes ground on every character and condition that appertains to man, and blends the individual, the nation, and the world. from a small spark, kindled in america, a flame has arisen not to be extinguished. without consuming, like the ultima ratio regum, it winds its progress from nation to nation, and conquers by a silent operation. man finds himself changed, he scarcely perceives how. he acquires a knowledge of his rights by attending justly to his interest, and discovers in the event that the strength and powers of despotism consist wholly in the fear of resisting it, and that, in order "to be free, it is sufficient that he wills it." having in all the preceding parts of this work endeavoured to establish a system of principles as a basis on which governments ought to be erected, i shall proceed in this, to the ways and means of rendering them into practice. but in order to introduce this part of the subject with more propriety, and stronger effect, some preliminary observations, deducible from, or connected with, those principles, are necessary. whatever the form or constitution of government may be, it ought to have no other object than the general happiness. when, instead of this, it operates to create and increase wretchedness in any of the parts of society, it is on a wrong system, and reformation is necessary. customary language has classed the condition of man under the two descriptions of civilised and uncivilised life. to the one it has ascribed felicity and affluence; to the other hardship and want. but, however our imagination may be impressed by painting and comparison, it is nevertheless true, that a great portion of mankind, in what are called civilised countries, are in a state of poverty and wretchedness, far below the condition of an indian. i speak not of one country, but of all. it is so in england, it is so all over europe. let us enquire into the cause. it lies not in any natural defect in the principles of civilisation, but in preventing those principles having a universal operation; the consequence of which is, a perpetual system of war and expense, that drains the country, and defeats the general felicity of which civilisation is capable. all the european governments (france now excepted) are constructed not on the principle of universal civilisation, but on the reverse of it. so far as those governments relate to each other, they are in the same condition as we conceive of savage uncivilised life; they put themselves beyond the law as well of god as of man, and are, with respect to principle and reciprocal conduct, like so many individuals in a state of nature. the inhabitants of every country, under the civilisation of laws, easily civilise together, but governments being yet in an uncivilised state, and almost continually at war, they pervert the abundance which civilised life produces to carry on the uncivilised part to a greater extent. by thus engrafting the barbarism of government upon the internal civilisation of a country, it draws from the latter, and more especially from the poor, a great portion of those earnings, which should be applied to their own subsistence and comfort. apart from all reflections of morality and philosophy, it is a melancholy fact that more than one-fourth of the labour of mankind is annually consumed by this barbarous system. what has served to continue this evil, is the pecuniary advantage which all the governments of europe have found in keeping up this state of uncivilisation. it affords to them pretences for power, and revenue, for which there would be neither occasion nor apology, if the circle of civilisation were rendered complete. civil government alone, or the government of laws, is not productive of pretences for many taxes; it operates at home, directly under the eye of the country, and precludes the possibility of much imposition. but when the scene is laid in the uncivilised contention of governments, the field of pretences is enlarged, and the country, being no longer a judge, is open to every imposition, which governments please to act. not a thirtieth, scarcely a fortieth, part of the taxes which are raised in england are either occasioned by, or applied to, the purpose of civil government. it is not difficult to see, that the whole which the actual government does in this respect, is to enact laws, and that the country administers and executes them, at its own expense, by means of magistrates, juries, sessions, and assize, over and above the taxes which it pays. in this view of the case, we have two distinct characters of government; the one the civil government, or the government of laws, which operates at home, the other the court or cabinet government, which operates abroad, on the rude plan of uncivilised life; the one attended with little charge, the other with boundless extravagance; and so distinct are the two, that if the latter were to sink, as it were, by a sudden opening of the earth, and totally disappear, the former would not be deranged. it would still proceed, because it is the common interest of the nation that it should, and all the means are in practice. revolutions, then, have for their object a change in the moral condition of governments, and with this change the burthen of public taxes will lessen, and civilisation will be left to the enjoyment of that abundance, of which it is now deprived. in contemplating the whole of this subject, i extend my views into the department of commerce. in all my publications, where the matter would admit, i have been an advocate for commerce, because i am a friend to its effects. it is a pacific system, operating to cordialise mankind, by rendering nations, as well as individuals, useful to each other. as to the mere theoretical reformation, i have never preached it up. the most effectual process is that of improving the condition of man by means of his interest; and it is on this ground that i take my stand. if commerce were permitted to act to the universal extent it is capable, it would extirpate the system of war, and produce a revolution in the uncivilised state of governments. the invention of commerce has arisen since those governments began, and is the greatest approach towards universal civilisation that has yet been made by any means not immediately flowing from moral principles. whatever has a tendency to promote the civil intercourse of nations by an exchange of benefits, is a subject as worthy of philosophy as of politics. commerce is no other than the traffic of two individuals, multiplied on a scale of numbers; and by the same rule that nature intended for the intercourse of two, she intended that of all. for this purpose she has distributed the materials of manufactures and commerce, in various and distant parts of a nation and of the world; and as they cannot be procured by war so cheaply or so commodiously as by commerce, she has rendered the latter the means of extirpating the former. as the two are nearly the opposite of each other, consequently, the uncivilised state of the european governments is injurious to commerce. every kind of destruction or embarrassment serves to lessen the quantity, and it matters but little in what part of the commercial world the reduction begins. like blood, it cannot be taken from any of the parts, without being taken from the whole mass in circulation, and all partake of the loss. when the ability in any nation to buy is destroyed, it equally involves the seller. could the government of england destroy the commerce of all other nations, she would most effectually ruin her own. it is possible that a nation may be the carrier for the world, but she cannot be the merchant. she cannot be the seller and buyer of her own merchandise. the ability to buy must reside out of herself; and, therefore, the prosperity of any commercial nation is regulated by the prosperity of the rest. if they are poor she cannot be rich, and her condition, be what it may, is an index of the height of the commercial tide in other nations. that the principles of commerce, and its universal operation may be understood, without understanding the practice, is a position that reason will not deny; and it is on this ground only that i argue the subject. it is one thing in the counting-house, in the world it is another. with respect to its operation it must necessarily be contemplated as a reciprocal thing; that only one-half its powers resides within the nation, and that the whole is as effectually destroyed by the destroying the half that resides without, as if the destruction had been committed on that which is within; for neither can act without the other. when in the last, as well as in former wars, the commerce of england sunk, it was because the quantity was lessened everywhere; and it now rises, because commerce is in a rising state in every nation. if england, at this day, imports and exports more than at any former period, the nations with which she trades must necessarily do the same; her imports are their exports, and vice versa. there can be no such thing as a nation flourishing alone in commerce: she can only participate; and the destruction of it in any part must necessarily affect all. when, therefore, governments are at war, the attack is made upon a common stock of commerce, and the consequence is the same as if each had attacked his own. the present increase of commerce is not to be attributed to ministers, or to any political contrivances, but to its own natural operation in consequence of peace. the regular markets had been destroyed, the channels of trade broken up, the high road of the seas infested with robbers of every nation, and the attention of the world called to other objects. those interruptions have ceased, and peace has restored the deranged condition of things to their proper order.*[ ] it is worth remarking that every nation reckons the balance of trade in its own favour; and therefore something must be irregular in the common ideas upon this subject. the fact, however, is true, according to what is called a balance; and it is from this cause that commerce is universally supported. every nation feels the advantage, or it would abandon the practice: but the deception lies in the mode of making up the accounts, and in attributing what are called profits to a wrong cause. mr. pitt has sometimes amused himself, by showing what he called a balance of trade from the custom-house books. this mode of calculating not only affords no rule that is true, but one that is false. in the first place, every cargo that departs from the custom-house appears on the books as an export; and, according to the custom-house balance, the losses at sea, and by foreign failures, are all reckoned on the side of profit because they appear as exports. secondly, because the importation by the smuggling trade does not appear on the custom-house books, to arrange against the exports. no balance, therefore, as applying to superior advantages, can be drawn from these documents; and if we examine the natural operation of commerce, the idea is fallacious; and if true, would soon be injurious. the great support of commerce consists in the balance being a level of benefits among all nations. two merchants of different nations trading together, will both become rich, and each makes the balance in his own favour; consequently, they do not get rich of each other; and it is the same with respect to the nations in which they reside. the case must be, that each nation must get rich out of its own means, and increases that riches by something which it procures from another in exchange. if a merchant in england sends an article of english manufacture abroad which costs him a shilling at home, and imports something which sells for two, he makes a balance of one shilling in his favour; but this is not gained out of the foreign nation or the foreign merchant, for he also does the same by the articles he receives, and neither has the advantage upon the other. the original value of the two articles in their proper countries was but two shillings; but by changing their places, they acquire a new idea of value, equal to double what they had first, and that increased value is equally divided. there is no otherwise a balance on foreign than on domestic commerce. the merchants of london and newcastle trade on the same principles, as if they resided in different nations, and make their balances in the same manner: yet london does not get rich out of newcastle, any more than newcastle out of london: but coals, the merchandize of newcastle, have an additional value at london, and london merchandize has the same at newcastle. though the principle of all commerce is the same, the domestic, in a national view, is the part the most beneficial; because the whole of the advantages, an both sides, rests within the nation; whereas, in foreign commerce, it is only a participation of one-half. the most unprofitable of all commerce is that connected with foreign dominion. to a few individuals it may be beneficial, merely because it is commerce; but to the nation it is a loss. the expense of maintaining dominion more than absorbs the profits of any trade. it does not increase the general quantity in the world, but operates to lessen it; and as a greater mass would be afloat by relinquishing dominion, the participation without the expense would be more valuable than a greater quantity with it. but it is impossible to engross commerce by dominion; and therefore it is still more fallacious. it cannot exist in confined channels, and necessarily breaks out by regular or irregular means, that defeat the attempt: and to succeed would be still worse. france, since the revolution, has been more indifferent as to foreign possessions, and other nations will become the same when they investigate the subject with respect to commerce. to the expense of dominion is to be added that of navies, and when the amounts of the two are subtracted from the profits of commerce, it will appear, that what is called the balance of trade, even admitting it to exist, is not enjoyed by the nation, but absorbed by the government. the idea of having navies for the protection of commerce is delusive. it is putting means of destruction for the means of protection. commerce needs no other protection than the reciprocal interest which every nation feels in supporting it--it is common stock--it exists by a balance of advantages to all; and the only interruption it meets, is from the present uncivilised state of governments, and which it is its common interest to reform.*[ ] quitting this subject, i now proceed to other matters.--as it is necessary to include england in the prospect of a general reformation, it is proper to inquire into the defects of its government. it is only by each nation reforming its own, that the whole can be improved, and the full benefit of reformation enjoyed. only partial advantages can flow from partial reforms. france and england are the only two countries in europe where a reformation in government could have successfully begun. the one secure by the ocean, and the other by the immensity of its internal strength, could defy the malignancy of foreign despotism. but it is with revolutions as with commerce, the advantages increase by their becoming general, and double to either what each would receive alone. as a new system is now opening to the view of the world, the european courts are plotting to counteract it. alliances, contrary to all former systems, are agitating, and a common interest of courts is forming against the common interest of man. this combination draws a line that runs throughout europe, and presents a cause so entirely new as to exclude all calculations from former circumstances. while despotism warred with despotism, man had no interest in the contest; but in a cause that unites the soldier with the citizen, and nation with nation, the despotism of courts, though it feels the danger and meditates revenge, is afraid to strike. no question has arisen within the records of history that pressed with the importance of the present. it is not whether this or that party shall be in or not, or whig or tory, high or low shall prevail; but whether man shall inherit his rights, and universal civilisation take place? whether the fruits of his labours shall be enjoyed by himself or consumed by the profligacy of governments? whether robbery shall be banished from courts, and wretchedness from countries? when, in countries that are called civilised, we see age going to the workhouse and youth to the gallows, something must be wrong in the system of government. it would seem, by the exterior appearance of such countries, that all was happiness; but there lies hidden from the eye of common observation, a mass of wretchedness, that has scarcely any other chance, than to expire in poverty or infamy. its entrance into life is marked with the presage of its fate; and until this is remedied, it is in vain to punish. civil government does not exist in executions; but in making such provision for the instruction of youth and the support of age, as to exclude, as much as possible, profligacy from the one and despair from the other. instead of this, the resources of a country are lavished upon kings, upon courts, upon hirelings, impostors and prostitutes; and even the poor themselves, with all their wants upon them, are compelled to support the fraud that oppresses them. why is it that scarcely any are executed but the poor? the fact is a proof, among other things, of a wretchedness in their condition. bred up without morals, and cast upon the world without a prospect, they are the exposed sacrifice of vice and legal barbarity. the millions that are superfluously wasted upon governments are more than sufficient to reform those evils, and to benefit the condition of every man in a nation, not included within the purlieus of a court. this i hope to make appear in the progress of this work. it is the nature of compassion to associate with misfortune. in taking up this subject i seek no recompense--i fear no consequence. fortified with that proud integrity, that disdains to triumph or to yield, i will advocate the rights of man. it is to my advantage that i have served an apprenticeship to life. i know the value of moral instruction, and i have seen the danger of the contrary. at an early period--little more than sixteen years of age, raw and adventurous, and heated with the false heroism of a master*[ ] who had served in a man-of-war--i began the carver of my own fortune, and entered on board the terrible privateer, captain death. from this adventure i was happily prevented by the affectionate and moral remonstrance of a good father, who, from his own habits of life, being of the quaker profession, must begin to look upon me as lost. but the impression, much as it effected at the time, began to wear away, and i entered afterwards in the king of prussia privateer, captain mendez, and went with her to sea. yet, from such a beginning, and with all the inconvenience of early life against me, i am proud to say, that with a perseverance undismayed by difficulties, a disinterestedness that compelled respect, i have not only contributed to raise a new empire in the world, founded on a new system of government, but i have arrived at an eminence in political literature, the most difficult of all lines to succeed and excel in, which aristocracy with all its aids has not been able to reach or to rival.*[ ] knowing my own heart and feeling myself as i now do, superior to all the skirmish of party, the inveteracy of interested or mistaken opponents, i answer not to falsehood or abuse, but proceed to the defects of the english government. i begin with charters and corporations. it is a perversion of terms to say that a charter gives rights. it operates by a contrary effect--that of taking rights away. rights are inherently in all the inhabitants; but charters, by annulling those rights, in the majority, leave the right, by exclusion, in the hands of a few. if charters were constructed so as to express in direct terms, "that every inhabitant, who is not a member of a corporation, shall not exercise the right of voting," such charters would, in the face, be charters not of rights, but of exclusion. the effect is the same under the form they now stand; and the only persons on whom they operate are the persons whom they exclude. those whose rights are guaranteed, by not being taken away, exercise no other rights than as members of the community they are entitled to without a charter; and, therefore, all charters have no other than an indirect negative operation. they do not give rights to a, but they make a difference in favour of a by taking away the right of b, and consequently are instruments of injustice. but charters and corporations have a more extensive evil effect than what relates merely to elections. they are sources of endless contentions in the places where they exist, and they lessen the common rights of national society. a native of england, under the operation of these charters and corporations, cannot be said to be an englishman in the full sense of the word. he is not free of the nation, in the same manner that a frenchman is free of france, and an american of america. his rights are circumscribed to the town, and, in some cases, to the parish of his birth; and all other parts, though in his native land, are to him as a foreign country. to acquire a residence in these, he must undergo a local naturalisation by purchase, or he is forbidden or expelled the place. this species of feudality is kept up to aggrandise the corporations at the ruin of towns; and the effect is visible. the generality of corporation towns are in a state of solitary decay, and prevented from further ruin only by some circumstance in their situation, such as a navigable river, or a plentiful surrounding country. as population is one of the chief sources of wealth (for without it land itself has no value), everything which operates to prevent it must lessen the value of property; and as corporations have not only this tendency, but directly this effect, they cannot but be injurious. if any policy were to be followed, instead of that of general freedom, to every person to settle where he chose (as in france or america) it would be more consistent to give encouragement to new comers than to preclude their admission by exacting premiums from them.*[ ] the persons most immediately interested in the abolition of corporations are the inhabitants of the towns where corporations are established. the instances of manchester, birmingham, and sheffield show, by contrast, the injuries which those gothic institutions are to property and commerce. a few examples may be found, such as that of london, whose natural and commercial advantage, owing to its situation on the thames, is capable of bearing up against the political evils of a corporation; but in almost all other cases the fatality is too visible to be doubted or denied. though the whole nation is not so directly affected by the depression of property in corporation towns as the inhabitants themselves, it partakes of the consequence. by lessening the value of property, the quantity of national commerce is curtailed. every man is a customer in proportion to his ability; and as all parts of a nation trade with each other, whatever affects any of the parts must necessarily communicate to the whole. as one of the houses of the english parliament is, in a great measure, made up of elections from these corporations; and as it is unnatural that a pure stream should flow from a foul fountain, its vices are but a continuation of the vices of its origin. a man of moral honour and good political principles cannot submit to the mean drudgery and disgraceful arts, by which such elections are carried. to be a successful candidate, he must be destitute of the qualities that constitute a just legislator; and being thus disciplined to corruption by the mode of entering into parliament, it is not to be expected that the representative should be better than the man. mr. burke, in speaking of the english representation, has advanced as bold a challenge as ever was given in the days of chivalry. "our representation," says he, "has been found perfectly adequate to all the purposes for which a representation of the people can be desired or devised." "i defy," continues he, "the enemies of our constitution to show the contrary."--this declaration from a man who has been in constant opposition to all the measures of parliament the whole of his political life, a year or two excepted, is most extraordinary; and, comparing him with himself, admits of no other alternative, than that he acted against his judgment as a member, or has declared contrary to it as an author. but it is not in the representation only that the defects lie, and therefore i proceed in the next place to the aristocracy. what is called the house of peers, is constituted on a ground very similar to that, against which there is no law in other cases. it amounts to a combination of persons in one common interest. no better reason can be given, why a house of legislation should be composed entirely of men whose occupation consists in letting landed property, than why it should be composed of those who hire, or of brewers, or bakers, or any other separate class of men. mr. burke calls this house "the great ground and pillar of security to the landed interest." let us examine this idea. what pillar of security does the landed interest require more than any other interest in the state, or what right has it to a distinct and separate representation from the general interest of a nation? the only use to be made of this power (and which it always has made), is to ward off taxes from itself, and throw the burthen upon those articles of consumption by which itself would be least affected. that this has been the consequence (and will always be the consequence) of constructing governments on combinations, is evident with respect to england, from the history of its taxes. notwithstanding taxes have increased and multiplied upon every article of common consumption, the land-tax, which more particularly affects this "pillar," has diminished. in the amount of the land-tax was l , , , which is half-a-million less than it produced almost a hundred years ago,*[ ] notwithstanding the rentals are in many instances doubled since that period. before the coming of the hanoverians, the taxes were divided in nearly equal proportions between the land and articles of consumption, the land bearing rather the largest share: but since that era nearly thirteen millions annually of new taxes have been thrown upon consumption. the consequence of which has been a constant increase in the number and wretchedness of the poor, and in the amount of the poor-rates. yet here again the burthen does not fall in equal proportions on the aristocracy with the rest of the community. their residences, whether in town or country, are not mixed with the habitations of the poor. they live apart from distress, and the expense of relieving it. it is in manufacturing towns and labouring villages that those burthens press the heaviest; in many of which it is one class of poor supporting another. several of the most heavy and productive taxes are so contrived, as to give an exemption to this pillar, thus standing in its own defence. the tax upon beer brewed for sale does not affect the aristocracy, who brew their own beer free from this duty. it falls only on those who have not conveniency or ability to brew, and who must purchase it in small quantities. but what will mankind think of the justice of taxation, when they know that this tax alone, from which the aristocracy are from circumstances exempt, is nearly equal to the whole of the land-tax, being in the year , and it is not less now, l , , , and with its proportion of the taxes on malt and hops, it exceeds it.--that a single article, thus partially consumed, and that chiefly by the working part, should be subject to a tax, equal to that on the whole rental of a nation, is, perhaps, a fact not to be paralleled in the histories of revenues. this is one of the circumstances resulting from a house of legislation, composed on the ground of a combination of common interest; for whatever their separate politics as to parties may be, in this they are united. whether a combination acts to raise the price of any article for sale, or rate of wages; or whether it acts to throw taxes from itself upon another class of the community, the principle and the effect are the same; and if the one be illegal, it will be difficult to show that the other ought to exist. it is no use to say that taxes are first proposed in the house of commons; for as the other house has always a negative, it can always defend itself; and it would be ridiculous to suppose that its acquiescence in the measures to be proposed were not understood before hand. besides which, it has obtained so much influence by borough-traffic, and so many of its relations and connections are distributed on both sides the commons, as to give it, besides an absolute negative in one house, a preponderancy in the other, in all matters of common concern. it is difficult to discover what is meant by the landed interest, if it does not mean a combination of aristocratical landholders, opposing their own pecuniary interest to that of the farmer, and every branch of trade, commerce, and manufacture. in all other respects it is the only interest that needs no partial protection. it enjoys the general protection of the world. every individual, high or low, is interested in the fruits of the earth; men, women, and children, of all ages and degrees, will turn out to assist the farmer, rather than a harvest should not be got in; and they will not act thus by any other property. it is the only one for which the common prayer of mankind is put up, and the only one that can never fail from the want of means. it is the interest, not of the policy, but of the existence of man, and when it ceases, he must cease to be. no other interest in a nation stands on the same united support. commerce, manufactures, arts, sciences, and everything else, compared with this, are supported but in parts. their prosperity or their decay has not the same universal influence. when the valleys laugh and sing, it is not the farmer only, but all creation that rejoice. it is a prosperity that excludes all envy; and this cannot be said of anything else. why then, does mr. burke talk of his house of peers as the pillar of the landed interest? were that pillar to sink into the earth, the same landed property would continue, and the same ploughing, sowing, and reaping would go on. the aristocracy are not the farmers who work the land, and raise the produce, but are the mere consumers of the rent; and when compared with the active world are the drones, a seraglio of males, who neither collect the honey nor form the hive, but exist only for lazy enjoyment. mr. burke, in his first essay, called aristocracy "the corinthian capital of polished society." towards completing the figure, he has now added the pillar; but still the base is wanting; and whenever a nation choose to act a samson, not blind, but bold, down will go the temple of dagon, the lords and the philistines. if a house of legislation is to be composed of men of one class, for the purpose of protecting a distinct interest, all the other interests should have the same. the inequality, as well as the burthen of taxation, arises from admitting it in one case, and not in all. had there been a house of farmers, there had been no game laws; or a house of merchants and manufacturers, the taxes had neither been so unequal nor so excessive. it is from the power of taxation being in the hands of those who can throw so great a part of it from their own shoulders, that it has raged without a check. men of small or moderate estates are more injured by the taxes being thrown on articles of consumption, than they are eased by warding it from landed property, for the following reasons: first, they consume more of the productive taxable articles, in proportion to their property, than those of large estates. secondly, their residence is chiefly in towns, and their property in houses; and the increase of the poor-rates, occasioned by taxes on consumption, is in much greater proportion than the land-tax has been favoured. in birmingham, the poor-rates are not less than seven shillings in the pound. from this, as is already observed, the aristocracy are in a great measure exempt. these are but a part of the mischiefs flowing from the wretched scheme of an house of peers. as a combination, it can always throw a considerable portion of taxes from itself; and as an hereditary house, accountable to nobody, it resembles a rotten borough, whose consent is to be courted by interest. there are but few of its members, who are not in some mode or other participators, or disposers of the public money. one turns a candle-holder, or a lord in waiting; another a lord of the bed-chamber, a groom of the stole, or any insignificant nominal office to which a salary is annexed, paid out of the public taxes, and which avoids the direct appearance of corruption. such situations are derogatory to the character of man; and where they can be submitted to, honour cannot reside. to all these are to be added the numerous dependants, the long list of younger branches and distant relations, who are to be provided for at the public expense: in short, were an estimation to be made of the charge of aristocracy to a nation, it will be found nearly equal to that of supporting the poor. the duke of richmond alone (and there are cases similar to his) takes away as much for himself as would maintain two thousand poor and aged persons. is it, then, any wonder, that under such a system of government, taxes and rates have multiplied to their present extent? in stating these matters, i speak an open and disinterested language, dictated by no passion but that of humanity. to me, who have not only refused offers, because i thought them improper, but have declined rewards i might with reputation have accepted, it is no wonder that meanness and imposition appear disgustful. independence is my happiness, and i view things as they are, without regard to place or person; my country is the world, and my religion is to do good. mr. burke, in speaking of the aristocratical law of primogeniture, says, "it is the standing law of our landed inheritance; and which, without question, has a tendency, and i think," continues he, "a happy tendency, to preserve a character of weight and consequence." mr. burke may call this law what he pleases, but humanity and impartial reflection will denounce it as a law of brutal injustice. were we not accustomed to the daily practice, and did we only hear of it as the law of some distant part of the world, we should conclude that the legislators of such countries had not arrived at a state of civilisation. as to its preserving a character of weight and consequence, the case appears to me directly the reverse. it is an attaint upon character; a sort of privateering on family property. it may have weight among dependent tenants, but it gives none on a scale of national, and much less of universal character. speaking for myself, my parents were not able to give me a shilling, beyond what they gave me in education; and to do this they distressed themselves: yet, i possess more of what is called consequence, in the world, than any one in mr. burke's catalogue of aristocrats. having thus glanced at some of the defects of the two houses of parliament, i proceed to what is called the crown, upon which i shall be very concise. it signifies a nominal office of a million sterling a year, the business of which consists in receiving the money. whether the person be wise or foolish, sane or insane, a native or a foreigner, matters not. every ministry acts upon the same idea that mr. burke writes, namely, that the people must be hood-winked, and held in superstitious ignorance by some bugbear or other; and what is called the crown answers this purpose, and therefore it answers all the purposes to be expected from it. this is more than can be said of the other two branches. the hazard to which this office is exposed in all countries, is not from anything that can happen to the man, but from what may happen to the nation--the danger of its coming to its senses. it has been customary to call the crown the executive power, and the custom is continued, though the reason has ceased. it was called the executive, because the person whom it signified used, formerly, to act in the character of a judge, in administering or executing the laws. the tribunals were then a part of the court. the power, therefore, which is now called the judicial, is what was called the executive and, consequently, one or other of the terms is redundant, and one of the offices useless. when we speak of the crown now, it means nothing; it signifies neither a judge nor a general: besides which it is the laws that govern, and not the man. the old terms are kept up, to give an appearance of consequence to empty forms; and the only effect they have is that of increasing expenses. before i proceed to the means of rendering governments more conducive to the general happiness of mankind, than they are at present, it will not be improper to take a review of the progress of taxation in england. it is a general idea, that when taxes are once laid on, they are never taken off. however true this may have been of late, it was not always so. either, therefore, the people of former times were more watchful over government than those of the present, or government was administered with less extravagance. it is now seven hundred years since the norman conquest, and the establishment of what is called the crown. taking this portion of time in seven separate periods of one hundred years each, the amount of the annual taxes, at each period, will be as follows: annual taxes levied by william the conqueror, beginning in the year l , annual taxes at years from the conquest ( ) , annual taxes at years from the conquest ( ) , annual taxes at years from the conquest ( ) , annual taxes at years from the conquest ( ) , these statements and those which follow, are taken from sir john sinclair's history of the revenue; by which it appears, that taxes continued decreasing for four hundred years, at the expiration of which time they were reduced three-fourths, viz., from four hundred thousand pounds to one hundred thousand. the people of england of the present day, have a traditionary and historical idea of the bravery of their ancestors; but whatever their virtues or their vices might have been, they certainly were a people who would not be imposed upon, and who kept governments in awe as to taxation, if not as to principle. though they were not able to expel the monarchical usurpation, they restricted it to a republican economy of taxes. let us now review the remaining three hundred years: annual amount of taxes at: years from the conquest ( ) , years from the conquest ( ) , , the present time ( ) , , the difference between the first four hundred years and the last three, is so astonishing, as to warrant an opinion, that the national character of the english has changed. it would have been impossible to have dragooned the former english, into the excess of taxation that now exists; and when it is considered that the pay of the army, the navy, and of all the revenue officers, is the same now as it was about a hundred years ago, when the taxes were not above a tenth part of what they are at present, it appears impossible to account for the enormous increase and expenditure on any other ground, than extravagance, corruption, and intrigue.*[ ] with the revolution of , and more so since the hanover succession, came the destructive system of continental intrigues, and the rage for foreign wars and foreign dominion; systems of such secure mystery that the expenses admit of no accounts; a single line stands for millions. to what excess taxation might have extended had not the french revolution contributed to break up the system, and put an end to pretences, is impossible to say. viewed, as that revolution ought to be, as the fortunate means of lessening the load of taxes of both countries, it is of as much importance to england as to france; and, if properly improved to all the advantages of which it is capable, and to which it leads, deserves as much celebration in one country as the other. in pursuing this subject, i shall begin with the matter that first presents itself, that of lessening the burthen of taxes; and shall then add such matter and propositions, respecting the three countries of england, france, and america, as the present prospect of things appears to justify: i mean, an alliance of the three, for the purposes that will be mentioned in their proper place. what has happened may happen again. by the statement before shown of the progress of taxation, it is seen that taxes have been lessened to a fourth part of what they had formerly been. though the present circumstances do not admit of the same reduction, yet they admit of such a beginning, as may accomplish that end in less time than in the former case. the amount of taxes for the year ending at michaelmas , was as follows: land-tax l , , customs , , excise (including old and new malt) , , stamps , , miscellaneous taxes and incidents , , ----------- l , , since the year , upwards of one million new taxes have been laid on, besides the produce of the lotteries; and as the taxes have in general been more productive since than before, the amount may be taken, in round numbers, at l , , . (the expense of collection and the drawbacks, which together amount to nearly two millions, are paid out of the gross amount; and the above is the net sum paid into the exchequer). this sum of seventeen millions is applied to two different purposes; the one to pay the interest of the national debt, the other to the current expenses of each year. about nine millions are appropriated to the former; and the remainder, being nearly eight millions, to the latter. as to the million, said to be applied to the reduction of the debt, it is so much like paying with one hand and taking out with the other, as not to merit much notice. it happened, fortunately for france, that she possessed national domains for paying off her debt, and thereby lessening her taxes; but as this is not the case with england, her reduction of taxes can only take place by reducing the current expenses, which may now be done to the amount of four or five millions annually, as will hereafter appear. when this is accomplished it will more than counter-balance the enormous charge of the american war; and the saving will be from the same source from whence the evil arose. as to the national debt, however heavy the interest may be in taxes, yet, as it serves to keep alive a capital useful to commerce, it balances by its effects a considerable part of its own weight; and as the quantity of gold and silver is, by some means or other, short of its proper proportion, being not more than twenty millions, whereas it should be sixty (foreign intrigue, foreign wars, foreign dominions, will in a great measure account for the deficiency), it would, besides the injustice, be bad policy to extinguish a capital that serves to supply that defect. but with respect to the current expense, whatever is saved therefrom is gain. the excess may serve to keep corruption alive, but it has no re-action on credit and commerce, like the interest of the debt. it is now very probable that the english government (i do not mean the nation) is unfriendly to the french revolution. whatever serves to expose the intrigue and lessen the influence of courts, by lessening taxation, will be unwelcome to those who feed upon the spoil. whilst the clamour of french intrigue, arbitrary power, popery, and wooden shoes could be kept up, the nation was easily allured and alarmed into taxes. those days are now past: deception, it is to be hoped, has reaped its last harvest, and better times are in prospect for both countries, and for the world. taking it for granted that an alliance may be formed between england, france, and america for the purposes hereafter to be mentioned, the national expenses of france and england may consequently be lessened. the same fleets and armies will no longer be necessary to either, and the reduction can be made ship for ship on each side. but to accomplish these objects the governments must necessarily be fitted to a common and correspondent principle. confidence can never take place while an hostile disposition remains in either, or where mystery and secrecy on one side is opposed to candour and openness on the other. these matters admitted, the national expenses might be put back, for the sake of a precedent, to what they were at some period when france and england were not enemies. this, consequently, must be prior to the hanover succession, and also to the revolution of .*[ ] the first instance that presents itself, antecedent to those dates, is in the very wasteful and profligate times of charles the second; at which time england and france acted as allies. if i have chosen a period of great extravagance, it will serve to show modern extravagance in a still worse light; especially as the pay of the navy, the army, and the revenue officers has not increased since that time. the peace establishment was then as follows (see sir john sinclair's history of the revenue): navy l , army , ordnance , civil list , ------- l , , the parliament, however, settled the whole annual peace establishment at $ , , .*[ ] if we go back to the time of elizabeth the amount of all the taxes was but half a million, yet the nation sees nothing during that period that reproaches it with want of consequence. all circumstances, then, taken together, arising from the french revolution, from the approaching harmony and reciprocal interest of the two nations, the abolition of the court intrigue on both sides, and the progress of knowledge in the science of government, the annual expenditure might be put back to one million and a half, viz.: navy l , army , expenses of government , ---------- l , , even this sum is six times greater than the expenses of government are in america, yet the civil internal government in england (i mean that administered by means of quarter sessions, juries and assize, and which, in fact, is nearly the whole, and performed by the nation), is less expense upon the revenue, than the same species and portion of government is in america. it is time that nations should be rational, and not be governed like animals, for the pleasure of their riders. to read the history of kings, a man would be almost inclined to suppose that government consisted in stag-hunting, and that every nation paid a million a-year to a huntsman. man ought to have pride, or shame enough to blush at being thus imposed upon, and when he feels his proper character he will. upon all subjects of this nature, there is often passing in the mind, a train of ideas he has not yet accustomed himself to encourage and communicate. restrained by something that puts on the character of prudence, he acts the hypocrite upon himself as well as to others. it is, however, curious to observe how soon this spell can be dissolved. a single expression, boldly conceived and uttered, will sometimes put a whole company into their proper feelings: and whole nations are acted on in the same manner. as to the offices of which any civil government may be composed, it matters but little by what names they are described. in the routine of business, as before observed, whether a man be styled a president, a king, an emperor, a senator, or anything else, it is impossible that any service he can perform, can merit from a nation more than ten thousand pounds a year; and as no man should be paid beyond his services, so every man of a proper heart will not accept more. public money ought to be touched with the most scrupulous consciousness of honour. it is not the produce of riches only, but of the hard earnings of labour and poverty. it is drawn even from the bitterness of want and misery. not a beggar passes, or perishes in the streets, whose mite is not in that mass. were it possible that the congress of america could be so lost to their duty, and to the interest of their constituents, as to offer general washington, as president of america, a million a year, he would not, and he could not, accept it. his sense of honour is of another kind. it has cost england almost seventy millions sterling, to maintain a family imported from abroad, of very inferior capacity to thousands in the nation; and scarcely a year has passed that has not produced some new mercenary application. even the physicians' bills have been sent to the public to be paid. no wonder that jails are crowded, and taxes and poor-rates increased. under such systems, nothing is to be looked for but what has already happened; and as to reformation, whenever it come, it must be from the nation, and not from the government. to show that the sum of five hundred thousand pounds is more than sufficient to defray all the expenses of the government, exclusive of navies and armies, the following estimate is added, for any country, of the same extent as england. in the first place, three hundred representatives fairly elected, are sufficient for all the purposes to which legislation can apply, and preferable to a larger number. they may be divided into two or three houses, or meet in one, as in france, or in any manner a constitution shall direct. as representation is always considered, in free countries, as the most honourable of all stations, the allowance made to it is merely to defray the expense which the representatives incur by that service, and not to it as an office. if an allowance, at the rate of five hundred pounds per annum, be made to every representative, deducting for non-attendance, the expense, if the whole number attended for six months, each year, would be l , the official departments cannot reasonably exceed the following number, with the salaries annexed: three offices at ten thousand pounds each l , ten ditto, at five thousand pounds each , twenty ditto, at two thousand pounds each , forty ditto, at one thousand pounds each , two hundred ditto, at five hundred pounds each , three hundred ditto, at two hundred pounds each , five hundred ditto, at one hundred pounds each , seven hundred ditto, at seventy-five pounds each , -------- l , if a nation choose, it can deduct four per cent. from all offices, and make one of twenty thousand per annum. all revenue officers are paid out of the monies they collect, and therefore, are not in this estimation. the foregoing is not offered as an exact detail of offices, but to show the number of rate of salaries which five hundred thousand pounds will support; and it will, on experience, be found impracticable to find business sufficient to justify even this expense. as to the manner in which office business is now performed, the chiefs, in several offices, such as the post-office, and certain offices in the exchequer, etc., do little more than sign their names three or four times a year; and the whole duty is performed by under-clerks. taking, therefore, one million and a half as a sufficient peace establishment for all the honest purposes of government, which is three hundred thousand pounds more than the peace establishment in the profligate and prodigal times of charles the second (notwithstanding, as has been already observed, the pay and salaries of the army, navy, and revenue officers, continue the same as at that period), there will remain a surplus of upwards of six millions out of the present current expenses. the question then will be, how to dispose of this surplus. whoever has observed the manner in which trade and taxes twist themselves together, must be sensible of the impossibility of separating them suddenly. first. because the articles now on hand are already charged with the duty, and the reduction cannot take place on the present stock. secondly. because, on all those articles on which the duty is charged in the gross, such as per barrel, hogshead, hundred weight, or ton, the abolition of the duty does not admit of being divided down so as fully to relieve the consumer, who purchases by the pint, or the pound. the last duty laid on strong beer and ale was three shillings per barrel, which, if taken off, would lessen the purchase only half a farthing per pint, and consequently, would not reach to practical relief. this being the condition of a great part of the taxes, it will be necessary to look for such others as are free from this embarrassment and where the relief will be direct and visible, and capable of immediate operation. in the first place, then, the poor-rates are a direct tax which every house-keeper feels, and who knows also, to a farthing, the sum which he pays. the national amount of the whole of the poor-rates is not positively known, but can be procured. sir john sinclair, in his history of the revenue has stated it at l , , . a considerable part of which is expended in litigations, in which the poor, instead of being relieved, are tormented. the expense, however, is the same to the parish from whatever cause it arises. in birmingham, the amount of poor-rates is fourteen thousand pounds a year. this, though a large sum, is moderate, compared with the population. birmingham is said to contain seventy thousand souls, and on a proportion of seventy thousand to fourteen thousand pounds poor-rates, the national amount of poor-rates, taking the population of england as seven millions, would be but one million four hundred thousand pounds. it is, therefore, most probable, that the population of birmingham is over-rated. fourteen thousand pounds is the proportion upon fifty thousand souls, taking two millions of poor-rates, as the national amount. be it, however, what it may, it is no other than the consequence of excessive burthen of taxes, for, at the time when the taxes were very low, the poor were able to maintain themselves; and there were no poor-rates.*[ ] in the present state of things a labouring man, with a wife or two or three children, does not pay less than between seven and eight pounds a year in taxes. he is not sensible of this, because it is disguised to him in the articles which he buys, and he thinks only of their dearness; but as the taxes take from him, at least, a fourth part of his yearly earnings, he is consequently disabled from providing for a family, especially, if himself, or any of them, are afflicted with sickness. the first step, therefore, of practical relief, would be to abolish the poor-rates entirely, and in lieu thereof, to make a remission of taxes to the poor of double the amount of the present poor-rates, viz., four millions annually out of the surplus taxes. by this measure, the poor would be benefited two millions, and the house-keepers two millions. this alone would be equal to a reduction of one hundred and twenty millions of the national debt, and consequently equal to the whole expense of the american war. it will then remain to be considered, which is the most effectual mode of distributing this remission of four millions. it is easily seen, that the poor are generally composed of large families of children, and old people past their labour. if these two classes are provided for, the remedy will so far reach to the full extent of the case, that what remains will be incidental, and, in a great measure, fall within the compass of benefit clubs, which, though of humble invention, merit to be ranked among the best of modern institutions. admitting england to contain seven millions of souls; if one-fifth thereof are of that class of poor which need support, the number will be one million four hundred thousand. of this number, one hundred and forty thousand will be aged poor, as will be hereafter shown, and for which a distinct provision will be proposed. there will then remain one million two hundred and sixty thousand which, at five souls to each family, amount to two hundred and fifty-two thousand families, rendered poor from the expense of children and the weight of taxes. the number of children under fourteen years of age, in each of those families, will be found to be about five to every two families; some having two, and others three; some one, and others four: some none, and others five; but it rarely happens that more than five are under fourteen years of age, and after this age they are capable of service or of being apprenticed. allowing five children (under fourteen years) to every two families, the number of children will be , the number of parents, were they all living, would be , it is certain, that if the children are provided for, the parents are relieved of consequence, because it is from the expense of bringing up children that their poverty arises. having thus ascertained the greatest number that can be supposed to need support on account of young families, i proceed to the mode of relief or distribution, which is, to pay as a remission of taxes to every poor family, out of the surplus taxes, and in room of poor-rates, four pounds a year for every child under fourteen years of age; enjoining the parents of such children to send them to school, to learn reading, writing, and common arithmetic; the ministers of every parish, of every denomination to certify jointly to an office, for that purpose, that this duty is performed. the amount of this expense will be, for six hundred and thirty thousand children at four pounds per annum each l , , by adopting this method, not only the poverty of the parents will be relieved, but ignorance will be banished from the rising generation, and the number of poor will hereafter become less, because their abilities, by the aid of education, will be greater. many a youth, with good natural genius, who is apprenticed to a mechanical trade, such as a carpenter, joiner, millwright, shipwright, blacksmith, etc., is prevented getting forward the whole of his life from the want of a little common education when a boy. i now proceed to the case of the aged. i divide age into two classes. first, the approach of age, beginning at fifty. secondly, old age commencing at sixty. at fifty, though the mental faculties of man are in full vigour, and his judgment better than at any preceding date, the bodily powers for laborious life are on the decline. he cannot bear the same quantity of fatigue as at an earlier period. he begins to earn less, and is less capable of enduring wind and weather; and in those more retired employments where much sight is required, he fails apace, and sees himself, like an old horse, beginning to be turned adrift. at sixty his labour ought to be over, at least from direct necessity. it is painful to see old age working itself to death, in what are called civilised countries, for daily bread. to form some judgment of the number of those above fifty years of age, i have several times counted the persons i met in the streets of london, men, women, and children, and have generally found that the average is about one in sixteen or seventeen. if it be said that aged persons do not come much into the streets, so neither do infants; and a great proportion of grown children are in schools and in work-shops as apprentices. taking, then, sixteen for a divisor, the whole number of persons in england of fifty years and upwards, of both sexes, rich and poor, will be four hundred and twenty thousand. the persons to be provided for out of this gross number will be husbandmen, common labourers, journeymen of every trade and their wives, sailors, and disbanded soldiers, worn out servants of both sexes, and poor widows. there will be also a considerable number of middling tradesmen, who having lived decently in the former part of life, begin, as age approaches, to lose their business, and at last fall to decay. besides these there will be constantly thrown off from the revolutions of that wheel which no man can stop nor regulate, a number from every class of life connected with commerce and adventure. to provide for all those accidents, and whatever else may befall, i take the number of persons who, at one time or other of their lives, after fifty years of age, may feel it necessary or comfortable to be better supported, than they can support themselves, and that not as a matter of grace and favour, but of right, at one-third of the whole number, which is one hundred and forty thousand, as stated in a previous page, and for whom a distinct provision was proposed to be made. if there be more, society, notwithstanding the show and pomposity of government, is in a deplorable condition in england. of this one hundred and forty thousand, i take one half, seventy thousand, to be of the age of fifty and under sixty, and the other half to be sixty years and upwards. having thus ascertained the probable proportion of the number of aged persons, i proceed to the mode of rendering their condition comfortable, which is: to pay to every such person of the age of fifty years, and until he shall arrive at the age of sixty, the sum of six pounds per annum out of the surplus taxes, and ten pounds per annum during life after the age of sixty. the expense of which will be, seventy thousand persons, at l per annum l , seventy thousand persons, at l per annum , ------- l , , this support, as already remarked, is not of the nature of a charity but of a right. every person in england, male and female, pays on an average in taxes two pounds eight shillings and sixpence per annum from the day of his (or her) birth; and, if the expense of collection be added, he pays two pounds eleven shillings and sixpence; consequently, at the end of fifty years he has paid one hundred and twenty-eight pounds fifteen shillings; and at sixty one hundred and fifty-four pounds ten shillings. converting, therefore, his (or her) individual tax in a tontine, the money he shall receive after fifty years is but little more than the legal interest of the net money he has paid; the rest is made up from those whose circumstances do not require them to draw such support, and the capital in both cases defrays the expenses of government. it is on this ground that i have extended the probable claims to one-third of the number of aged persons in the nation.--is it, then, better that the lives of one hundred and forty thousand aged persons be rendered comfortable, or that a million a year of public money be expended on any one individual, and him often of the most worthless or insignificant character? let reason and justice, let honour and humanity, let even hypocrisy, sycophancy and mr. burke, let george, let louis, leopold, frederic, catherine, cornwallis, or tippoo saib, answer the question.*[ ] the sum thus remitted to the poor will be, to two hundred and fifty-two thousand poor families, containing six hundred and thirty thousand children l , , to one hundred and forty thousand aged persons , , ---------- l , , there will then remain three hundred and sixty thousand pounds out of the four millions, part of which may be applied as follows:-- after all the above cases are provided for there will still be a number of families who, though not properly of the class of poor, yet find it difficult to give education to their children; and such children, under such a case, would be in a worse condition than if their parents were actually poor. a nation under a well-regulated government should permit none to remain uninstructed. it is monarchical and aristocratical government only that requires ignorance for its support. suppose, then, four hundred thousand children to be in this condition, which is a greater number than ought to be supposed after the provisions already made, the method will be: to allow for each of those children ten shillings a year for the expense of schooling for six years each, which will give them six months schooling each year, and half a crown a year for paper and spelling books. the expense of this will be annually l , .*[ ] there will then remain one hundred and ten thousand pounds. notwithstanding the great modes of relief which the best instituted and best principled government may devise, there will be a number of smaller cases, which it is good policy as well as beneficence in a nation to consider. were twenty shillings to be given immediately on the birth of a child, to every woman who should make the demand, and none will make it whose circumstances do not require it, it might relieve a great deal of instant distress. there are about two hundred thousand births yearly in england; and if claimed by one fourth, the amount would be l , and twenty shillings to every new-married couple who should claim in like manner. this would not exceed the sum of l , . also twenty thousand pounds to be appropriated to defray the funeral expenses of persons, who, travelling for work, may die at a distance from their friends. by relieving parishes from this charge, the sick stranger will be better treated. i shall finish this part of the subject with a plan adapted to the particular condition of a metropolis, such as london. cases are continually occurring in a metropolis, different from those which occur in the country, and for which a different, or rather an additional, mode of relief is necessary. in the country, even in large towns, people have a knowledge of each other, and distress never rises to that extreme height it sometimes does in a metropolis. there is no such thing in the country as persons, in the literal sense of the word, starved to death, or dying with cold from the want of a lodging. yet such cases, and others equally as miserable, happen in london. many a youth comes up to london full of expectations, and with little or no money, and unless he get immediate employment he is already half undone; and boys bred up in london without any means of a livelihood, and as it often happens of dissolute parents, are in a still worse condition; and servants long out of place are not much better off. in short, a world of little cases is continually arising, which busy or affluent life knows not of, to open the first door to distress. hunger is not among the postponable wants, and a day, even a few hours, in such a condition is often the crisis of a life of ruin. these circumstances which are the general cause of the little thefts and pilferings that lead to greater, may be prevented. there yet remain twenty thousand pounds out of the four millions of surplus taxes, which with another fund hereafter to be mentioned, amounting to about twenty thousand pounds more, cannot be better applied than to this purpose. the plan will then be: first, to erect two or more buildings, or take some already erected, capable of containing at least six thousand persons, and to have in each of these places as many kinds of employment as can be contrived, so that every person who shall come may find something which he or she can do. secondly, to receive all who shall come, without enquiring who or what they are. the only condition to be, that for so much, or so many hours' work, each person shall receive so many meals of wholesome food, and a warm lodging, at least as good as a barrack. that a certain portion of what each person's work shall be worth shall be reserved, and given to him or her, on their going away; and that each person shall stay as long or as short a time, or come as often as he choose, on these conditions. if each person stayed three months, it would assist by rotation twenty-four thousand persons annually, though the real number, at all times, would be but six thousand. by establishing an asylum of this kind, such persons to whom temporary distresses occur, would have an opportunity to recruit themselves, and be enabled to look out for better employment. allowing that their labour paid but one half the expense of supporting them, after reserving a portion of their earnings for themselves, the sum of forty thousand pounds additional would defray all other charges for even a greater number than six thousand. the fund very properly convertible to this purpose, in addition to the twenty thousand pounds, remaining of the former fund, will be the produce of the tax upon coals, so iniquitously and wantonly applied to the support of the duke of richmond. it is horrid that any man, more especially at the price coals now are, should live on the distresses of a community; and any government permitting such an abuse, deserves to be dismissed. this fund is said to be about twenty thousand pounds per annum. i shall now conclude this plan with enumerating the several particulars, and then proceed to other matters. the enumeration is as follows:-- first, abolition of two millions poor-rates. secondly, provision for two hundred and fifty thousand poor families. thirdly, education for one million and thirty thousand children. fourthly, comfortable provision for one hundred and forty thousand aged persons. fifthly, donation of twenty shillings each for fifty thousand births. sixthly, donation of twenty shillings each for twenty thousand marriages. seventhly, allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the funeral expenses of persons travelling for work, and dying at a distance from their friends. eighthly, employment, at all times, for the casual poor in the cities of london and westminster. by the operation of this plan, the poor laws, those instruments of civil torture, will be superseded, and the wasteful expense of litigation prevented. the hearts of the humane will not be shocked by ragged and hungry children, and persons of seventy and eighty years of age, begging for bread. the dying poor will not be dragged from place to place to breathe their last, as a reprisal of parish upon parish. widows will have a maintenance for their children, and not be carted away, on the death of their husbands, like culprits and criminals; and children will no longer be considered as increasing the distresses of their parents. the haunts of the wretched will be known, because it will be to their advantage; and the number of petty crimes, the offspring of distress and poverty, will be lessened. the poor, as well as the rich, will then be interested in the support of government, and the cause and apprehension of riots and tumults will cease.--ye who sit in ease, and solace yourselves in plenty, and such there are in turkey and russia, as well as in england, and who say to yourselves, "are we not well off?" have ye thought of these things? when ye do, ye will cease to speak and feel for yourselves alone. the plan is easy in practice. it does not embarrass trade by a sudden interruption in the order of taxes, but effects the relief by changing the application of them; and the money necessary for the purpose can be drawn from the excise collections, which are made eight times a year in every market town in england. having now arranged and concluded this subject, i proceed to the next. taking the present current expenses at seven millions and an half, which is the least amount they are now at, there will remain (after the sum of one million and an half be taken for the new current expenses and four millions for the before-mentioned service) the sum of two millions; part of which to be applied as follows: though fleets and armies, by an alliance with france, will, in a great measure, become useless, yet the persons who have devoted themselves to those services, and have thereby unfitted themselves for other lines of life, are not to be sufferers by the means that make others happy. they are a different description of men from those who form or hang about a court. a part of the army will remain, at least for some years, and also of the navy, for which a provision is already made in the former part of this plan of one million, which is almost half a million more than the peace establishment of the army and navy in the prodigal times of charles the second. suppose, then, fifteen thousand soldiers to be disbanded, and that an allowance be made to each of three shillings a week during life, clear of all deductions, to be paid in the same manner as the chelsea college pensioners are paid, and for them to return to their trades and their friends; and also that an addition of fifteen thousand sixpences per week be made to the pay of the soldiers who shall remain; the annual expenses will be: to the pay of fifteen thousand disbanded soldiers at three shillings per week l , additional pay to the remaining soldiers , suppose that the pay to the officers of the disbanded corps be the same amount as sum allowed to the men , -------- l , to prevent bulky estimations, admit the same sum to the disbanded navy as to the army, and the same increase of pay , -------- total l , every year some part of this sum of half a million (i omit the odd seven thousand pounds for the purpose of keeping the account unembarrassed) will fall in, and the whole of it in time, as it is on the ground of life annuities, except the increased pay of twenty-nine thousand pounds. as it falls in, part of the taxes may be taken off; and as, for instance, when thirty thousand pounds fall in, the duty on hops may be wholly taken off; and as other parts fall in, the duties on candles and soap may be lessened, till at last they will totally cease. there now remains at least one million and a half of surplus taxes. the tax on houses and windows is one of those direct taxes, which, like the poor-rates, is not confounded with trade; and, when taken off, the relief will be instantly felt. this tax falls heavy on the middle class of people. the amount of this tax, by the returns of , was: houses and windows: l s. d. by the act of , by the act be , / ---------------------- total , / if this tax be struck off, there will then remain about one million of surplus taxes; and as it is always proper to keep a sum in reserve, for incidental matters, it may be best not to extend reductions further in the first instance, but to consider what may be accomplished by other modes of reform. among the taxes most heavily felt is the commutation tax. i shall therefore offer a plan for its abolition, by substituting another in its place, which will effect three objects at once: , that of removing the burthen to where it can best be borne; , restoring justice among families by a distribution of property; , extirpating the overgrown influence arising from the unnatural law of primogeniture, which is one of the principal sources of corruption at elections. the amount of commutation tax by the returns of , was l , . when taxes are proposed, the country is amused by the plausible language of taxing luxuries. one thing is called a luxury at one time, and something else at another; but the real luxury does not consist in the article, but in the means of procuring it, and this is always kept out of sight. i know not why any plant or herb of the field should be a greater luxury in one country than another; but an overgrown estate in either is a luxury at all times, and, as such, is the proper object of taxation. it is, therefore, right to take those kind tax-making gentlemen up on their own word, and argue on the principle themselves have laid down, that of taxing luxuries. if they or their champion, mr. burke, who, i fear, is growing out of date, like the man in armour, can prove that an estate of twenty, thirty, or forty thousand pounds a year is not a luxury, i will give up the argument. admitting that any annual sum, say, for instance, one thousand pounds, is necessary or sufficient for the support of a family, consequently the second thousand is of the nature of a luxury, the third still more so, and by proceeding on, we shall at last arrive at a sum that may not improperly be called a prohibitable luxury. it would be impolitic to set bounds to property acquired by industry, and therefore it is right to place the prohibition beyond the probable acquisition to which industry can extend; but there ought to be a limit to property or the accumulation of it by bequest. it should pass in some other line. the richest in every nation have poor relations, and those often very near in consanguinity. the following table of progressive taxation is constructed on the above principles, and as a substitute for the commutation tax. it will reach the point of prohibition by a regular operation, and thereby supersede the aristocratical law of primogeniture. table i a tax on all estates of the clear yearly value of l , after deducting the land tax, and up to l s d per pound from l to l , on the second thousand on the third " on the fourth " on the fifth " on the sixth " on the seventh " on the eighth " on the ninth " s d per pound on the tenth " on the eleventh " on the twelfth " on the thirteenth " on the fourteenth " on the fifteenth " on the sixteenth " on the seventeenth " on the eighteenth " on the nineteenth " on the twentieth " on the twenty-first " on the twenty-second " on the twenty-third " the foregoing table shows the progression per pound on every progressive thousand. the following table shows the amount of the tax on every thousand separately, and in the last column the total amount of all the separate sums collected. table ii an estate of: l per annum at d per pound pays l " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " " after l , the tax of d. per pound takes place on the second l ; consequently an estate of l , per annum pays l l, s., and so on. total amount for the st l at s d per pound l s nd " l s nd at rd " (total amount) th at s d per pound l s l s th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " th " st " (total amount) nd at s d per pound l s l s rd " at the twenty-third thousand the tax becomes s. in the pound, and consequently every thousand beyond that sum can produce no profit but by dividing the estate. yet formidable as this tax appears, it will not, i believe, produce so much as the commutation tax; should it produce more, it ought to be lowered to that amount upon estates under two or three thousand a year. on small and middling estates it is lighter (as it is intended to be) than the commutation tax. it is not till after seven or eight thousand a year that it begins to be heavy. the object is not so much the produce of the tax as the justice of the measure. the aristocracy has screened itself too much, and this serves to restore a part of the lost equilibrium. as an instance of its screening itself, it is only necessary to look back to the first establishment of the excise laws, at what is called the restoration, or the coming of charles the second. the aristocratical interest then in power, commuted the feudal services itself was under, by laying a tax on beer brewed for sale; that is, they compounded with charles for an exemption from those services for themselves and their heirs, by a tax to be paid by other people. the aristocracy do not purchase beer brewed for sale, but brew their own beer free of the duty, and if any commutation at that time were necessary, it ought to have been at the expense of those for whom the exemptions from those services were intended;*[ ] instead of which, it was thrown on an entirely different class of men. but the chief object of this progressive tax (besides the justice of rendering taxes more equal than they are) is, as already stated, to extirpate the overgrown influence arising from the unnatural law of primogeniture, and which is one of the principal sources of corruption at elections. it would be attended with no good consequences to enquire how such vast estates as thirty, forty, or fifty thousand a year could commence, and that at a time when commerce and manufactures were not in a state to admit of such acquisitions. let it be sufficient to remedy the evil by putting them in a condition of descending again to the community by the quiet means of apportioning them among all the heirs and heiresses of those families. this will be the more necessary, because hitherto the aristocracy have quartered their younger children and connections upon the public in useless posts, places and offices, which when abolished will leave them destitute, unless the law of primogeniture be also abolished or superseded. a progressive tax will, in a great measure, effect this object, and that as a matter of interest to the parties most immediately concerned, as will be seen by the following table; which shows the net produce upon every estate, after subtracting the tax. by this it will appear that after an estate exceeds thirteen or fourteen thousand a year, the remainder produces but little profit to the holder, and consequently, will pass either to the younger children, or to other kindred. table iii showing the net produce of every estate from one thousand to twenty-three thousand pounds a year no of thousand total tax per annum subtracted net produce l l l , , , , , (no of thousand (total tax per annum) subtracted) (net produce) , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , n.b. the odd shillings are dropped in this table. according to this table, an estate cannot produce more than l , clear of the land tax and the progressive tax, and therefore the dividing such estates will follow as a matter of family interest. an estate of l , a year, divided into five estates of four thousand each and one of three, will be charged only l , which is but five per cent., but if held by one possessor, will be charged l , . although an enquiry into the origin of those estates be unnecessary, the continuation of them in their present state is another subject. it is a matter of national concern. as hereditary estates, the law has created the evil, and it ought also to provide the remedy. primogeniture ought to be abolished, not only because it is unnatural and unjust, but because the country suffers by its operation. by cutting off (as before observed) the younger children from their proper portion of inheritance, the public is loaded with the expense of maintaining them; and the freedom of elections violated by the overbearing influence which this unjust monopoly of family property produces. nor is this all. it occasions a waste of national property. a considerable part of the land of the country is rendered unproductive, by the great extent of parks and chases which this law serves to keep up, and this at a time when the annual production of grain is not equal to the national consumption.*[ ]--in short, the evils of the aristocratical system are so great and numerous, so inconsistent with every thing that is just, wise, natural, and beneficent, that when they are considered, there ought not to be a doubt that many, who are now classed under that description, will wish to see such a system abolished. what pleasure can they derive from contemplating the exposed condition, and almost certain beggary of their younger offspring? every aristocratical family has an appendage of family beggars hanging round it, which in a few ages, or a few generations, are shook off, and console themselves with telling their tale in almshouses, workhouses, and prisons. this is the natural consequence of aristocracy. the peer and the beggar are often of the same family. one extreme produces the other: to make one rich many must be made poor; neither can the system be supported by other means. there are two classes of people to whom the laws of england are particularly hostile, and those the most helpless; younger children, and the poor. of the former i have just spoken; of the latter i shall mention one instance out of the many that might be produced, and with which i shall close this subject. several laws are in existence for regulating and limiting work-men's wages. why not leave them as free to make their own bargains, as the law-makers are to let their farms and houses? personal labour is all the property they have. why is that little, and the little freedom they enjoy, to be infringed? but the injustice will appear stronger, if we consider the operation and effect of such laws. when wages are fixed by what is called a law, the legal wages remain stationary, while every thing else is in progression; and as those who make that law still continue to lay on new taxes by other laws, they increase the expense of living by one law, and take away the means by another. but if these gentlemen law-makers and tax-makers thought it right to limit the poor pittance which personal labour can produce, and on which a whole family is to be supported, they certainly must feel themselves happily indulged in a limitation on their own part, of not less than twelve thousand a-year, and that of property they never acquired (nor probably any of their ancestors), and of which they have made never acquire so ill a use. having now finished this subject, i shall bring the several particulars into one view, and then proceed to other matters. the first eight articles, mentioned earlier, are; . abolition of two millions poor-rates. . provision for two hundred and fifty-two thousand poor families, at the rate of four pounds per head for each child under fourteen years of age; which, with the addition of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, provides also education for one million and thirty thousand children. . annuity of six pounds (per annum) each for all poor persons, decayed tradesmen, and others (supposed seventy thousand) of the age of fifty years, and until sixty. . annuity of ten pounds each for life for all poor persons, decayed tradesmen, and others (supposed seventy thousand) of the age of sixty years. . donation of twenty shillings each for fifty thousand births. . donation of twenty shillings each for twenty thousand marriages. . allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the funeral expenses of persons travelling for work, and dying at a distance from their friends. . employment at all times for the casual poor in the cities of london and westminster. second enumeration . abolition of the tax on houses and windows. . allowance of three shillings per week for life to fifteen thousand disbanded soldiers, and a proportionate allowance to the officers of the disbanded corps. . increase of pay to the remaining soldiers of l , annually. . the same allowance to the disbanded navy, and the same increase of pay, as to the army. . abolition of the commutation tax. . plan of a progressive tax, operating to extirpate the unjust and unnatural law of primogeniture, and the vicious influence of the aristocratical system.*[ ] there yet remains, as already stated, one million of surplus taxes. some part of this will be required for circumstances that do not immediately present themselves, and such part as shall not be wanted, will admit of a further reduction of taxes equal to that amount. among the claims that justice requires to be made, the condition of the inferior revenue-officers will merit attention. it is a reproach to any government to waste such an immensity of revenue in sinecures and nominal and unnecessary places and officers, and not allow even a decent livelihood to those on whom the labour falls. the salary of the inferior officers of the revenue has stood at the petty pittance of less than fifty pounds a year for upwards of one hundred years. it ought to be seventy. about one hundred and twenty thousand pounds applied to this purpose, will put all those salaries in a decent condition. this was proposed to be done almost twenty years ago, but the treasury-board then in being, startled at it, as it might lead to similar expectations from the army and navy; and the event was, that the king, or somebody for him, applied to parliament to have his own salary raised an hundred thousand pounds a year, which being done, every thing else was laid aside. with respect to another class of men, the inferior clergy, i forbear to enlarge on their condition; but all partialities and prejudices for, or against, different modes and forms of religion aside, common justice will determine, whether there ought to be an income of twenty or thirty pounds a year to one man, and of ten thousand to another. i speak on this subject with the more freedom, because i am known not to be a presbyterian; and therefore the cant cry of court sycophants, about church and meeting, kept up to amuse and bewilder the nation, cannot be raised against me. ye simple men on both sides the question, do you not see through this courtly craft? if ye can be kept disputing and wrangling about church and meeting, ye just answer the purpose of every courtier, who lives the while on the spoils of the taxes, and laughs at your credulity. every religion is good that teaches man to be good; and i know of none that instructs him to be bad. all the before-mentioned calculations suppose only sixteen millions and an half of taxes paid into the exchequer, after the expense of collection and drawbacks at the custom-house and excise-office are deducted; whereas the sum paid into the exchequer is very nearly, if not quite, seventeen millions. the taxes raised in scotland and ireland are expended in those countries, and therefore their savings will come out of their own taxes; but if any part be paid into the english exchequer, it might be remitted. this will not make one hundred thousand pounds a year difference. there now remains only the national debt to be considered. in the year , the interest, exclusive of the tontine, was l , , . how much the capital has been reduced since that time the minister best knows. but after paying the interest, abolishing the tax on houses and windows, the commutation tax, and the poor-rates; and making all the provisions for the poor, for the education of children, the support of the aged, the disbanded part of the army and navy, and increasing the pay of the remainder, there will be a surplus of one million. the present scheme of paying off the national debt appears to me, speaking as an indifferent person, to be an ill-concerted, if not a fallacious job. the burthen of the national debt consists not in its being so many millions, or so many hundred millions, but in the quantity of taxes collected every year to pay the interest. if this quantity continues the same, the burthen of the national debt is the same to all intents and purposes, be the capital more or less. the only knowledge which the public can have of the reduction of the debt, must be through the reduction of taxes for paying the interest. the debt, therefore, is not reduced one farthing to the public by all the millions that have been paid; and it would require more money now to purchase up the capital, than when the scheme began. digressing for a moment at this point, to which i shall return again, i look back to the appointment of mr. pitt, as minister. i was then in america. the war was over; and though resentment had ceased, memory was still alive. when the news of the coalition arrived, though it was a matter of no concern to i felt it as a man. it had something in it which shocked, by publicly sporting with decency, if not with principle. it was impudence in lord north; it was a want of firmness in mr. fox. mr. pitt was, at that time, what may be called a maiden character in politics. so far from being hackneyed, he appeared not to be initiated into the first mysteries of court intrigue. everything was in his favour. resentment against the coalition served as friendship to him, and his ignorance of vice was credited for virtue. with the return of peace, commerce and prosperity would rise of itself; yet even this increase was thrown to his account. when he came to the helm, the storm was over, and he had nothing to interrupt his course. it required even ingenuity to be wrong, and he succeeded. a little time showed him the same sort of man as his predecessors had been. instead of profiting by those errors which had accumulated a burthen of taxes unparalleled in the world, he sought, i might almost say, he advertised for enemies, and provoked means to increase taxation. aiming at something, he knew not what, he ransacked europe and india for adventures, and abandoning the fair pretensions he began with, he became the knight-errant of modern times. it is unpleasant to see character throw itself away. it is more so to see one's-self deceived. mr. pitt had merited nothing, but he promised much. he gave symptoms of a mind superior to the meanness and corruption of courts. his apparent candour encouraged expectations; and the public confidence, stunned, wearied, and confounded by a chaos of parties, revived and attached itself to him. but mistaking, as he has done, the disgust of the nation against the coalition, for merit in himself, he has rushed into measures which a man less supported would not have presumed to act. all this seems to show that change of ministers amounts to nothing. one goes out, another comes in, and still the same measures, vices, and extravagance are pursued. it signifies not who is minister. the defect lies in the system. the foundation and the superstructure of the government is bad. prop it as you please, it continually sinks into court government, and ever will. i return, as i promised, to the subject of the national debt, that offspring of the dutch-anglo revolution, and its handmaid the hanover succession. but it is now too late to enquire how it began. those to whom it is due have advanced the money; and whether it was well or ill spent, or pocketed, is not their crime. it is, however, easy to see, that as the nation proceeds in contemplating the nature and principles of government, and to understand taxes, and make comparisons between those of america, france, and england, it will be next to impossible to keep it in the same torpid state it has hitherto been. some reform must, from the necessity of the case, soon begin. it is not whether these principles press with little or much force in the present moment. they are out. they are abroad in the world, and no force can stop them. like a secret told, they are beyond recall; and he must be blind indeed that does not see that a change is already beginning. nine millions of dead taxes is a serious thing; and this not only for bad, but in a great measure for foreign government. by putting the power of making war into the hands of the foreigners who came for what they could get, little else was to be expected than what has happened. reasons are already advanced in this work, showing that whatever the reforms in the taxes may be, they ought to be made in the current expenses of government, and not in the part applied to the interest of the national debt. by remitting the taxes of the poor, they will be totally relieved, and all discontent will be taken away; and by striking off such of the taxes as are already mentioned, the nation will more than recover the whole expense of the mad american war. there will then remain only the national debt as a subject of discontent; and in order to remove, or rather to prevent this, it would be good policy in the stockholders themselves to consider it as property, subject like all other property, to bear some portion of the taxes. it would give to it both popularity and security, and as a great part of its present inconvenience is balanced by the capital which it keeps alive, a measure of this kind would so far add to that balance as to silence objections. this may be done by such gradual means as to accomplish all that is necessary with the greatest ease and convenience. instead of taxing the capital, the best method would be to tax the interest by some progressive ratio, and to lessen the public taxes in the same proportion as the interest diminished. suppose the interest was taxed one halfpenny in the pound the first year, a penny more the second, and to proceed by a certain ratio to be determined upon, always less than any other tax upon property. such a tax would be subtracted from the interest at the time of payment, without any expense of collection. one halfpenny in the pound would lessen the interest and consequently the taxes, twenty thousand pounds. the tax on wagons amounts to this sum, and this tax might be taken off the first year. the second year the tax on female servants, or some other of the like amount might also be taken off, and by proceeding in this manner, always applying the tax raised from the property of the debt toward its extinction, and not carry it to the current services, it would liberate itself. the stockholders, notwithstanding this tax, would pay less taxes than they do now. what they would save by the extinction of the poor-rates, and the tax on houses and windows, and the commutation tax, would be considerably greater than what this tax, slow, but certain in its operation, amounts to. it appears to me to be prudence to look out for measures that may apply under any circumstances that may approach. there is, at this moment, a crisis in the affairs of europe that requires it. preparation now is wisdom. if taxation be once let loose, it will be difficult to re-instate it; neither would the relief be so effectual, as if it proceeded by some certain and gradual reduction. the fraud, hypocrisy, and imposition of governments, are now beginning to be too well understood to promise them any long career. the farce of monarchy and aristocracy, in all countries, is following that of chivalry, and mr. burke is dressing aristocracy, in all countries, is following that of chivalry, and mr. burke is dressing for the funeral. let it then pass quietly to the tomb of all other follies, and the mourners be comforted. the time is not very distant when england will laugh at itself for sending to holland, hanover, zell, or brunswick for men, at the expense of a million a year, who understood neither her laws, her language, nor her interest, and whose capacities would scarcely have fitted them for the office of a parish constable. if government could be trusted to such hands, it must be some easy and simple thing indeed, and materials fit for all the purposes may be found in every town and village in england. when it shall be said in any country in the world, my poor are happy; neither ignorance nor distress is to be found among them; my jails are empty of prisoners, my streets of beggars; the aged are not in want, the taxes are not oppressive; the rational world is my friend, because i am the friend of its happiness: when these things can be said, then may that country boast its constitution and its government. within the space of a few years we have seen two revolutions, those of america and france. in the former, the contest was long, and the conflict severe; in the latter, the nation acted with such a consolidated impulse, that having no foreign enemy to contend with, the revolution was complete in power the moment it appeared. from both those instances it is evident, that the greatest forces that can be brought into the field of revolutions, are reason and common interest. where these can have the opportunity of acting, opposition dies with fear, or crumbles away by conviction. it is a great standing which they have now universally obtained; and we may hereafter hope to see revolutions, or changes in governments, produced with the same quiet operation by which any measure, determinable by reason and discussion, is accomplished. when a nation changes its opinion and habits of thinking, it is no longer to be governed as before; but it would not only be wrong, but bad policy, to attempt by force what ought to be accomplished by reason. rebellion consists in forcibly opposing the general will of a nation, whether by a party or by a government. there ought, therefore, to be in every nation a method of occasionally ascertaining the state of public opinion with respect to government. on this point the old government of france was superior to the present government of england, because, on extraordinary occasions, recourse could be had what was then called the states general. but in england there are no such occasional bodies; and as to those who are now called representatives, a great part of them are mere machines of the court, placemen, and dependants. i presume, that though all the people of england pay taxes, not an hundredth part of them are electors, and the members of one of the houses of parliament represent nobody but themselves. there is, therefore, no power but the voluntary will of the people that has a right to act in any matter respecting a general reform; and by the same right that two persons can confer on such a subject, a thousand may. the object, in all such preliminary proceedings, is to find out what the general sense of a nation is, and to be governed by it. if it prefer a bad or defective government to a reform or choose to pay ten times more taxes than there is any occasion for, it has a right so to do; and so long as the majority do not impose conditions on the minority, different from what they impose upon themselves, though there may be much error, there is no injustice. neither will the error continue long. reason and discussion will soon bring things right, however wrong they may begin. by such a process no tumult is to be apprehended. the poor, in all countries, are naturally both peaceable and grateful in all reforms in which their interest and happiness is included. it is only by neglecting and rejecting them that they become tumultuous. the objects that now press on the public attention are, the french revolution, and the prospect of a general revolution in governments. of all nations in europe there is none so much interested in the french revolution as england. enemies for ages, and that at a vast expense, and without any national object, the opportunity now presents itself of amicably closing the scene, and joining their efforts to reform the rest of europe. by doing this they will not only prevent the further effusion of blood, and increase of taxes, but be in a condition of getting rid of a considerable part of their present burthens, as has been already stated. long experience however has shown, that reforms of this kind are not those which old governments wish to promote, and therefore it is to nations, and not to such governments, that these matters present themselves. in the preceding part of this work, i have spoken of an alliance between england, france, and america, for purposes that were to be afterwards mentioned. though i have no direct authority on the part of america, i have good reason to conclude, that she is disposed to enter into a consideration of such a measure, provided, that the governments with which she might ally, acted as national governments, and not as courts enveloped in intrigue and mystery. that france as a nation, and a national government, would prefer an alliance with england, is a matter of certainty. nations, like individuals, who have long been enemies, without knowing each other, or knowing why, become the better friends when they discover the errors and impositions under which they had acted. admitting, therefore, the probability of such a connection, i will state some matters by which such an alliance, together with that of holland, might render service, not only to the parties immediately concerned, but to all europe. it is, i think, certain, that if the fleets of england, france, and holland were confederated, they could propose, with effect, a limitation to, and a general dismantling of, all the navies in europe, to a certain proportion to be agreed upon. first, that no new ship of war shall be built by any power in europe, themselves included. second, that all the navies now in existence shall be put back, suppose to one-tenth of their present force. this will save to france and england, at least two millions sterling annually to each, and their relative force be in the same proportion as it is now. if men will permit themselves to think, as rational beings ought to think, nothing can appear more ridiculous and absurd, exclusive of all moral reflections, than to be at the expense of building navies, filling them with men, and then hauling them into the ocean, to try which can sink each other fastest. peace, which costs nothing, is attended with infinitely more advantage, than any victory with all its expense. but this, though it best answers the purpose of nations, does not that of court governments, whose habited policy is pretence for taxation, places, and offices. it is, i think, also certain, that the above confederated powers, together with that of the united states of america, can propose with effect, to spain, the independence of south america, and the opening those countries of immense extent and wealth to the general commerce of the world, as north america now is. with how much more glory, and advantage to itself, does a nation act, when it exerts its powers to rescue the world from bondage, and to create itself friends, than when it employs those powers to increase ruin, desolation, and misery. the horrid scene that is now acting by the english government in the east-indies, is fit only to be told of goths and vandals, who, destitute of principle, robbed and tortured the world they were incapable of enjoying. the opening of south america would produce an immense field of commerce, and a ready money market for manufactures, which the eastern world does not. the east is already a country full of manufactures, the importation of which is not only an injury to the manufactures of england, but a drain upon its specie. the balance against england by this trade is regularly upwards of half a million annually sent out in the east-india ships in silver; and this is the reason, together with german intrigue, and german subsidies, that there is so little silver in england. but any war is harvest to such governments, however ruinous it may be to a nation. it serves to keep up deceitful expectations which prevent people from looking into the defects and abuses of government. it is the lo here! and the lo there! that amuses and cheats the multitude. never did so great an opportunity offer itself to england, and to all europe, as is produced by the two revolutions of america and france. by the former, freedom has a national champion in the western world; and by the latter, in europe. when another nation shall join france, despotism and bad government will scarcely dare to appear. to use a trite expression, the iron is becoming hot all over europe. the insulted german and the enslaved spaniard, the russ and the pole, are beginning to think. the present age will hereafter merit to be called the age of reason, and the present generation will appear to the future as the adam of a new world. when all the governments of europe shall be established on the representative system, nations will become acquainted, and the animosities and prejudices fomented by the intrigue and artifice of courts, will cease. the oppressed soldier will become a freeman; and the tortured sailor, no longer dragged through the streets like a felon, will pursue his mercantile voyage in safety. it would be better that nations should wi continue the pay of their soldiers during their lives, and give them their discharge and restore them to freedom and their friends, and cease recruiting, than retain such multitudes at the same expense, in a condition useless to society and to themselves. as soldiers have hitherto been treated in most countries, they might be said to be without a friend. shunned by the citizen on an apprehension of their being enemies to liberty, and too often insulted by those who commanded them, their condition was a double oppression. but where genuine principles of liberty pervade a people, every thing is restored to order; and the soldier civilly treated, returns the civility. in contemplating revolutions, it is easy to perceive that they may arise from two distinct causes; the one, to avoid or get rid of some great calamity; the other, to obtain some great and positive good; and the two may be distinguished by the names of active and passive revolutions. in those which proceed from the former cause, the temper becomes incensed and soured; and the redress, obtained by danger, is too often sullied by revenge. but in those which proceed from the latter, the heart, rather animated than agitated, enters serenely upon the subject. reason and discussion, persuasion and conviction, become the weapons in the contest, and it is only when those are attempted to be suppressed that recourse is had to violence. when men unite in agreeing that a thing is good, could it be obtained, such for instance as relief from a burden of taxes and the extinction of corruption, the object is more than half accomplished. what they approve as the end, they will promote in the means. will any man say, in the present excess of taxation, falling so heavily on the poor, that a remission of five pounds annually of taxes to one hundred and four thousand poor families is not a good thing? will he say that a remission of seven pounds annually to one hundred thousand other poor families--of eight pounds annually to another hundred thousand poor families, and of ten pounds annually to fifty thousand poor and widowed families, are not good things? and, to proceed a step further in this climax, will he say that to provide against the misfortunes to which all human life is subject, by securing six pounds annually for all poor, distressed, and reduced persons of the age of fifty and until sixty, and of ten pounds annually after sixty, is not a good thing? will he say that an abolition of two millions of poor-rates to the house-keepers, and of the whole of the house and window-light tax and of the commutation tax is not a good thing? or will he say that to abolish corruption is a bad thing? if, therefore, the good to be obtained be worthy of a passive, rational, and costless revolution, it would be bad policy to prefer waiting for a calamity that should force a violent one. i have no idea, considering the reforms which are now passing and spreading throughout europe, that england will permit herself to be the last; and where the occasion and the opportunity quietly offer, it is better than to wait for a turbulent necessity. it may be considered as an honour to the animal faculties of man to obtain redress by courage and danger, but it is far greater honour to the rational faculties to accomplish the same object by reason, accommodation, and general consent.*[ ] as reforms, or revolutions, call them which you please, extend themselves among nations, those nations will form connections and conventions, and when a few are thus confederated, the progress will be rapid, till despotism and corrupt government be totally expelled, at least out of two quarters of the world, europe and america. the algerine piracy may then be commanded to cease, for it is only by the malicious policy of old governments, against each other, that it exists. throughout this work, various and numerous as the subjects are, which i have taken up and investigated, there is only a single paragraph upon religion, viz. "that every religion is good that teaches man to be good." i have carefully avoided to enlarge upon the subject, because i am inclined to believe that what is called the present ministry, wish to see contentions about religion kept up, to prevent the nation turning its attention to subjects of government. it is as if they were to say, "look that way, or any way, but this." but as religion is very improperly made a political machine, and the reality of it is thereby destroyed, i will conclude this work with stating in what light religion appears to me. if we suppose a large family of children, who, on any particular day, or particular circumstance, made it a custom to present to their parents some token of their affection and gratitude, each of them would make a different offering, and most probably in a different manner. some would pay their congratulations in themes of verse and prose, by some little devices, as their genius dictated, or according to what they thought would please; and, perhaps, the least of all, not able to do any of those things, would ramble into the garden, or the field, and gather what it thought the prettiest flower it could find, though, perhaps, it might be but a simple weed. the parent would be more gratified by such a variety, than if the whole of them had acted on a concerted plan, and each had made exactly the same offering. this would have the cold appearance of contrivance, or the harsh one of control. but of all unwelcome things, nothing could more afflict the parent than to know, that the whole of them had afterwards gotten together by the ears, boys and girls, fighting, scratching, reviling, and abusing each other about which was the best or the worst present. why may we not suppose, that the great father of all is pleased with variety of devotion; and that the greatest offence we can act, is that by which we seek to torment and render each other miserable? for my own part, i am fully satisfied that what i am now doing, with an endeavour to conciliate mankind, to render their condition happy, to unite nations that have hitherto been enemies, and to extirpate the horrid practice of war, and break the chains of slavery and oppression is acceptable in his sight, and being the best service i can perform, i act it cheerfully. i do not believe that any two men, on what are called doctrinal points, think alike who think at all. it is only those who have not thought that appear to agree. it is in this case as with what is called the british constitution. it has been taken for granted to be good, and encomiums have supplied the place of proof. but when the nation comes to examine into its principles and the abuses it admits, it will be found to have more defects than i have pointed out in this work and the former. as to what are called national religions, we may, with as much propriety, talk of national gods. it is either political craft or the remains of the pagan system, when every nation had its separate and particular deity. among all the writers of the english church clergy, who have treated on the general subject of religion, the present bishop of llandaff has not been excelled, and it is with much pleasure that i take this opportunity of expressing this token of respect. i have now gone through the whole of the subject, at least, as far as it appears to me at present. it has been my intention for the five years i have been in europe, to offer an address to the people of england on the subject of government, if the opportunity presented itself before i returned to america. mr. burke has thrown it in my way, and i thank him. on a certain occasion, three years ago, i pressed him to propose a national convention, to be fairly elected, for the purpose of taking the state of the nation into consideration; but i found, that however strongly the parliamentary current was then setting against the party he acted with, their policy was to keep every thing within that field of corruption, and trust to accidents. long experience had shown that parliaments would follow any change of ministers, and on this they rested their hopes and their expectations. formerly, when divisions arose respecting governments, recourse was had to the sword, and a civil war ensued. that savage custom is exploded by the new system, and reference is had to national conventions. discussion and the general will arbitrates the question, and to this, private opinion yields with a good grace, and order is preserved uninterrupted. some gentlemen have affected to call the principles upon which this work and the former part of rights of man are founded, "a new-fangled doctrine." the question is not whether those principles are new or old, but whether they are right or wrong. suppose the former, i will show their effect by a figure easily understood. it is now towards the middle of february. were i to take a turn into the country, the trees would present a leafless, wintery appearance. as people are apt to pluck twigs as they walk along, i perhaps might do the same, and by chance might observe, that a single bud on that twig had begun to swell. i should reason very unnaturally, or rather not reason at all, to suppose this was the only bud in england which had this appearance. instead of deciding thus, i should instantly conclude, that the same appearance was beginning, or about to begin, every where; and though the vegetable sleep will continue longer on some trees and plants than on others, and though some of them may not blossom for two or three years, all will be in leaf in the summer, except those which are rotten. what pace the political summer may keep with the natural, no human foresight can determine. it is, however, not difficult to perceive that the spring is begun.--thus wishing, as i sincerely do, freedom and happiness to all nations, i close the second part. appendix as the publication of this work has been delayed beyond the time intended, i think it not improper, all circumstances considered, to state the causes that have occasioned delay. the reader will probably observe, that some parts in the plan contained in this work for reducing the taxes, and certain parts in mr. pitt's speech at the opening of the present session, tuesday, january , are so much alike as to induce a belief, that either the author had taken the hint from mr. pitt, or mr. pitt from the author.--i will first point out the parts that are similar, and then state such circumstances as i am acquainted with, leaving the reader to make his own conclusion. considering it as almost an unprecedented case, that taxes should be proposed to be taken off, it is equally extraordinary that such a measure should occur to two persons at the same time; and still more so (considering the vast variety and multiplicity of taxes) that they should hit on the same specific taxes. mr. pitt has mentioned, in his speech, the tax on carts and wagons--that on female servantsthe lowering the tax on candles and the taking off the tax of three shillings on houses having under seven windows. every one of those specific taxes are a part of the plan contained in this work, and proposed also to be taken off. mr. pitt's plan, it is true, goes no further than to a reduction of three hundred and twenty thousand pounds; and the reduction proposed in this work, to nearly six millions. i have made my calculations on only sixteen millions and an half of revenue, still asserting that it was "very nearly, if not quite, seventeen millions." mr. pitt states it at , , . i know enough of the matter to say, that he has not overstated it. having thus given the particulars, which correspond in this work and his speech, i will state a chain of circumstances that may lead to some explanation. the first hint for lessening the taxes, and that as a consequence flowing from the french revolution, is to be found in the address and declaration of the gentlemen who met at the thatched-house tavern, august , . among many other particulars stated in that address, is the following, put as an interrogation to the government opposers of the french revolution. "are they sorry that the pretence for new oppressive taxes, and the occasion for continuing many old taxes will be at an end?" it is well known that the persons who chiefly frequent the thatched-house tavern, are men of court connections, and so much did they take this address and declaration respecting the french revolution, and the reduction of taxes in disgust, that the landlord was under the necessity of informing the gentlemen, who composed the meeting of the th of august, and who proposed holding another meeting, that he could not receive them.*[ ] what was only hinted in the address and declaration respecting taxes and principles of government, will be found reduced to a regular system in this work. but as mr. pitt's speech contains some of the same things respecting taxes, i now come to give the circumstances before alluded to. the case is: this work was intended to be published just before the meeting of parliament, and for that purpose a considerable part of the copy was put into the printer's hands in september, and all the remaining copy, which contains the part to which mr. pitt's speech is similar, was given to him full six weeks before the meeting of parliament, and he was informed of the time at which it was to appear. he had composed nearly the whole about a fortnight before the time of parliament meeting, and had given me a proof of the next sheet. it was then in sufficient forwardness to be out at the time proposed, as two other sheets were ready for striking off. i had before told him, that if he thought he should be straitened for time, i could get part of the work done at another press, which he desired me not to do. in this manner the work stood on the tuesday fortnight preceding the meeting of parliament, when all at once, without any previous intimation, though i had been with him the evening before, he sent me, by one of his workmen, all the remaining copy, declining to go on with the work on any consideration. to account for this extraordinary conduct i was totally at a loss, as he stopped at the part where the arguments on systems and principles of government closed, and where the plan for the reduction of taxes, the education of children, and the support of the poor and the aged begins; and still more especially, as he had, at the time of his beginning to print, and before he had seen the whole copy, offered a thousand pounds for the copy-right, together with the future copy-right of the former part of the rights of man. i told the person who brought me this offer that i should not accept it, and wished it not to be renewed, giving him as my reason, that though i believed the printer to be an honest man, i would never put it in the power of any printer or publisher to suppress or alter a work of mine, by making him master of the copy, or give to him the right of selling it to any minister, or to any other person, or to treat as a mere matter of traffic, that which i intended should operate as a principle. his refusal to complete the work (which he could not purchase) obliged me to seek for another printer, and this of consequence would throw the publication back till after the meeting of parliament, otherways it would have appeared that mr. pitt had only taken up a part of the plan which i had more fully stated. whether that gentleman, or any other, had seen the work, or any part of it, is more than i have authority to say. but the manner in which the work was returned, and the particular time at which this was done, and that after the offers he had made, are suspicious circumstances. i know what the opinion of booksellers and publishers is upon such a case, but as to my own opinion, i choose to make no declaration. there are many ways by which proof sheets may be procured by other persons before a work publicly appears; to which i shall add a certain circumstance, which is, a ministerial bookseller in piccadilly who has been employed, as common report says, by a clerk of one of the boards closely connected with the ministry (the board of trade and plantation, of which hawkesbury is president) to publish what he calls my life, (i wish his own life and those of the cabinet were as good), used to have his books printed at the same printing-office that i employed; but when the former part of rights of man came out, he took his work away in dudgeon; and about a week or ten days before the printer returned my copy, he came to make him an offer of his work again, which was accepted. this would consequently give him admission into the printing-office where the sheets of this work were then lying; and as booksellers and printers are free with each other, he would have the opportunity of seeing what was going on.--be the case, however, as it may, mr. pitt's plan, little and diminutive as it is, would have made a very awkward appearance, had this work appeared at the time the printer had engaged to finish it. i have now stated the particulars which occasioned the delay, from the proposal to purchase, to the refusal to print. if all the gentlemen are innocent, it is very unfortunate for them that such a variety of suspicious circumstances should, without any design, arrange themselves together. having now finished this part, i will conclude with stating another circumstance. about a fortnight or three weeks before the meeting of parliament, a small addition, amounting to about twelve shillings and sixpence a year, was made to the pay of the soldiers, or rather their pay was docked so much less. some gentlemen who knew, in part, that this work would contain a plan of reforms respecting the oppressed condition of soldiers, wished me to add a note to the work, signifying that the part upon that subject had been in the printer's hands some weeks before that addition of pay was proposed. i declined doing this, lest it should be interpreted into an air of vanity, or an endeavour to excite suspicion (for which perhaps there might be no grounds) that some of the government gentlemen had, by some means or other, made out what this work would contain: and had not the printing been interrupted so as to occasion a delay beyond the time fixed for publication, nothing contained in this appendix would have appeared.                         thomas paine the author's notes for part one and part two [footnote : the main and uniform maxim of the judges is, the greater the truth the greater the libel.] [footnote : since writing the above, two other places occur in mr. burke's pamphlet in which the name of the bastille is mentioned, but in the same manner. in the one he introduces it in a sort of obscure question, and asks: "will any ministers who now serve such a king, with but a decent appearance of respect, cordially obey the orders of those whom but the other day, in his name, they had committed to the bastille?" in the other the taking it is mentioned as implying criminality in the french guards, who assisted in demolishing it. "they have not," says he, "forgot the taking the king's castles at paris." this is mr. burke, who pretends to write on constitutional freedom.] [footnote : i am warranted in asserting this, as i had it personally from m. de la fayette, with whom i lived in habits of friendship for fourteen years.] [footnote : an account of the expedition to versailles may be seen in no. of the revolution de paris containing the events from the rd to the th of october, .] [footnote : it is a practice in some parts of the country, when two travellers have but one horse, which, like the national purse, will not carry double, that the one mounts and rides two or three miles ahead, and then ties the horse to a gate and walks on. when the second traveller arrives he takes the horse, rides on, and passes his companion a mile or two, and ties again, and so on--ride and tie.] [footnote : the word he used was renvoye, dismissed or sent away.] [footnote : when in any country we see extraordinary circumstances taking place, they naturally lead any man who has a talent for observation and investigation, to enquire into the causes. the manufacturers of manchester, birmingham, and sheffield, are the principal manufacturers in england. from whence did this arise? a little observation will explain the case. the principal, and the generality of the inhabitants of those places, are not of what is called in england, the church established by law: and they, or their fathers, (for it is within but a few years) withdrew from the persecution of the chartered towns, where test-laws more particularly operate, and established a sort of asylum for themselves in those places. it was the only asylum that then offered, for the rest of europe was worse.--but the case is now changing. france and america bid all comers welcome, and initiate them into all the rights of citizenship. policy and interest, therefore, will, but perhaps too late, dictate in england, what reason and justice could not. those manufacturers are withdrawing, and arising in other places. there is now erecting in passey, three miles from paris, a large cotton manufactory, and several are already erected in america. soon after the rejecting the bill for repealing the test-law, one of the richest manufacturers in england said in my hearing, "england, sir, is not a country for a dissenter to live in,--we must go to france." these are truths, and it is doing justice to both parties to tell them. it is chiefly the dissenters that have carried english manufactures to the height they are now at, and the same men have it in their power to carry them away; and though those manufactures would afterwards continue in those places, the foreign market will be lost. there frequently appear in the london gazette, extracts from certain acts to prevent machines and persons, as far as they can extend to persons, from going out of the country. it appears from these that the ill effects of the test-laws and church-establishment begin to be much suspected; but the remedy of force can never supply the remedy of reason. in the progress of less than a century, all the unrepresented part of england, of all denominations, which is at least an hundred times the most numerous, may begin to feel the necessity of a constitution, and then all those matters will come regularly before them.] [footnote : when the english minister, mr. pitt, mentions the french finances again in the english parliament, it would be well that he noticed this as an example.] [footnote : mr. burke, (and i must take the liberty of telling him that he is very unacquainted with french affairs), speaking upon this subject, says, "the first thing that struck me in calling the states-general, was a great departure from the ancient course";--and he soon after says, "from the moment i read the list, i saw distinctly, and very nearly as it has happened, all that was to follow."--mr. burke certainly did not see an that was to follow. i endeavoured to impress him, as well before as after the states-general met, that there would be a revolution; but was not able to make him see it, neither would he believe it. how then he could distinctly see all the parts, when the whole was out of sight, is beyond my comprehension. and with respect to the "departure from the ancient course," besides the natural weakness of the remark, it shows that he is unacquainted with circumstances. the departure was necessary, from the experience had upon it, that the ancient course was a bad one. the states-general of were called at the commencement of the civil war in the minority of louis xiii.; but by the class of arranging them by orders, they increased the confusion they were called to compose. the author of l'intrigue du cabinet, (intrigue of the cabinet), who wrote before any revolution was thought of in france, speaking of the states-general of , says, "they held the public in suspense five months; and by the questions agitated therein, and the heat with which they were put, it appears that the great (les grands) thought more to satisfy their particular passions, than to procure the goods of the nation; and the whole time passed away in altercations, ceremonies and parade."--l'intrigue du cabinet, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : there is a single idea, which, if it strikes rightly upon the mind, either in a legal or a religious sense, will prevent any man or any body of men, or any government, from going wrong on the subject of religion; which is, that before any human institutions of government were known in the world, there existed, if i may so express it, a compact between god and man, from the beginning of time: and that as the relation and condition which man in his individual person stands in towards his maker cannot be changed by any human laws or human authority, that religious devotion, which is a part of this compact, cannot so much as be made a subject of human laws; and that all laws must conform themselves to this prior existing compact, and not assume to make the compact conform to the laws, which, besides being human, are subsequent thereto. the first act of man, when he looked around and saw himself a creature which he did not make, and a world furnished for his reception, must have been devotion; and devotion must ever continue sacred to every individual man, as it appears, right to him; and governments do mischief by interfering.] [footnote : see this work, part i starting at line number .--n.b. since the taking of the bastille, the occurrences have been published: but the matters recorded in this narrative, are prior to that period; and some of them, as may be easily seen, can be but very little known.] [footnote : see "estimate of the comparative strength of great britain," by g. chalmers.] [footnote : see "administration of the finances of france," vol. iii, by m. neckar.] [footnote : "administration of the finances of france," vol. iii.] [footnote : whether the english commerce does not bring in money, or whether the government sends it out after it is brought in, is a matter which the parties concerned can best explain; but that the deficiency exists, is not in the power of either to disprove. while dr. price, mr. eden, (now auckland), mr. chalmers, and others, were debating whether the quantity of money in england was greater or less than at the revolution, the circumstance was not adverted to, that since the revolution, there cannot have been less than four hundred millions sterling imported into europe; and therefore the quantity in england ought at least to have been four times greater than it was at the revolution, to be on a proportion with europe. what england is now doing by paper, is what she would have been able to do by solid money, if gold and silver had come into the nation in the proportion it ought, or had not been sent out; and she is endeavouring to restore by paper, the balance she has lost by money. it is certain, that the gold and silver which arrive annually in the register-ships to spain and portugal, do not remain in those countries. taking the value half in gold and half in silver, it is about four hundred tons annually; and from the number of ships and galloons employed in the trade of bringing those metals from south-america to portugal and spain, the quantity sufficiently proves itself, without referring to the registers. in the situation england now is, it is impossible she can increase in money. high taxes not only lessen the property of the individuals, but they lessen also the money capital of the nation, by inducing smuggling, which can only be carried on by gold and silver. by the politics which the british government have carried on with the inland powers of germany and the continent, it has made an enemy of all the maritime powers, and is therefore obliged to keep up a large navy; but though the navy is built in england, the naval stores must be purchased from abroad, and that from countries where the greatest part must be paid for in gold and silver. some fallacious rumours have been set afloat in england to induce a belief in money, and, among others, that of the french refugees bringing great quantities. the idea is ridiculous. the general part of the money in france is silver; and it would take upwards of twenty of the largest broad wheel wagons, with ten horses each, to remove one million sterling of silver. is it then to be supposed, that a few people fleeing on horse-back or in post-chaises, in a secret manner, and having the french custom-house to pass, and the sea to cross, could bring even a sufficiency for their own expenses? when millions of money are spoken of, it should be recollected, that such sums can only accumulate in a country by slow degrees, and a long procession of time. the most frugal system that england could now adopt, would not recover in a century the balance she has lost in money since the commencement of the hanover succession. she is seventy millions behind france, and she must be in some considerable proportion behind every country in europe, because the returns of the english mint do not show an increase of money, while the registers of lisbon and cadiz show an european increase of between three and four hundred millions sterling.] [footnote : that part of america which is generally called new-england, including new-hampshire, massachusetts, rhode-island, and connecticut, is peopled chiefly by english descendants. in the state of new-york about half are dutch, the rest english, scotch, and irish. in new-jersey, a mixture of english and dutch, with some scotch and irish. in pennsylvania about one third are english, another germans, and the remainder scotch and irish, with some swedes. the states to the southward have a greater proportion of english than the middle states, but in all of them there is a mixture; and besides those enumerated, there are a considerable number of french, and some few of all the european nations, lying on the coast. the most numerous religious denomination are the presbyterians; but no one sect is established above another, and all men are equally citizens.] [footnote : for a character of aristocracy, the reader is referred to rights of man, part i., starting at line number .] [footnote : the whole amount of the assessed taxes of france, for the present year, is three hundred millions of francs, which is twelve millions and a half sterling; and the incidental taxes are estimated at three millions, making in the whole fifteen millions and a half; which among twenty-four millions of people, is not quite thirteen shillings per head. france has lessened her taxes since the revolution, nearly nine millions sterling annually. before the revolution, the city of paris paid a duty of upwards of thirty per cent. on all articles brought into the city. this tax was collected at the city gates. it was taken off on the first of last may, and the gates taken down.] [footnote : what was called the livre rouge, or the red book, in france, was not exactly similar to the court calendar in england; but it sufficiently showed how a great part of the taxes was lavished.] [footnote : in england the improvements in agriculture, useful arts, manufactures, and commerce, have been made in opposition to the genius of its government, which is that of following precedents. it is from the enterprise and industry of the individuals, and their numerous associations, in which, tritely speaking, government is neither pillow nor bolster, that these improvements have proceeded. no man thought about government, or who was in, or who was out, when he was planning or executing those things; and all he had to hope, with respect to government, was, that it would let him alone. three or four very silly ministerial newspapers are continually offending against the spirit of national improvement, by ascribing it to a minister. they may with as much truth ascribe this book to a minister.] [footnote : with respect to the two houses, of which the english parliament is composed, they appear to be effectually influenced into one, and, as a legislature, to have no temper of its own. the minister, whoever he at any time may be, touches it as with an opium wand, and it sleeps obedience. but if we look at the distinct abilities of the two houses, the difference will appear so great, as to show the inconsistency of placing power where there can be no certainty of the judgment to use it. wretched as the state of representation is in england, it is manhood compared with what is called the house of lords; and so little is this nick-named house regarded, that the people scarcely enquire at any time what it is doing. it appears also to be most under influence, and the furthest removed from the general interest of the nation. in the debate on engaging in the russian and turkish war, the majority in the house of peers in favor of it was upwards of ninety, when in the other house, which was more than double its numbers, the majority was sixty-three.] the proceedings on mr. fox's bill, respecting the rights of juries, merits also to be noticed. the persons called the peers were not the objects of that bill. they are already in possession of more privileges than that bill gave to others. they are their own jury, and if any one of that house were prosecuted for a libel, he would not suffer, even upon conviction, for the first offense. such inequality in laws ought not to exist in any country. the french constitution says, that the law is the same to every individual, whether to protect or to punish. all are equal in its sight.] [footnote : as to the state of representation in england, it is too absurd to be reasoned upon. almost all the represented parts are decreasing in population, and the unrepresented parts are increasing. a general convention of the nation is necessary to take the whole form of government into consideration.] [footnote : it is related that in the canton of berne, in switzerland, it has been customary, from time immemorial, to keep a bear at the public expense, and the people had been taught to believe that if they had not a bear they should all be undone. it happened some years ago that the bear, then in being, was taken sick, and died too suddenly to have his place immediately supplied with another. during this interregnum the people discovered that the corn grew, and the vintage flourished, and the sun and moon continued to rise and set, and everything went on the same as before, and taking courage from these circumstances, they resolved not to keep any more bears; for, said they, "a bear is a very voracious expensive animal, and we were obliged to pull out his claws, lest he should hurt the citizens." the story of the bear of berne was related in some of the french newspapers, at the time of the flight of louis xvi., and the application of it to monarchy could not be mistaken in france; but it seems that the aristocracy of berne applied it to themselves, and have since prohibited the reading of french newspapers.] [footnote : it is scarcely possible to touch on any subject, that will not suggest an allusion to some corruption in governments. the simile of "fortifications," unfortunately involves with it a circumstance, which is directly in point with the matter above alluded to.] among the numerous instances of abuse which have been acted or protected by governments, ancient or modern, there is not a greater than that of quartering a man and his heirs upon the public, to be maintained at its expense. humanity dictates a provision for the poor; but by what right, moral or political, does any government assume to say, that the person called the duke of richmond, shall be maintained by the public? yet, if common report is true, not a beggar in london can purchase his wretched pittance of coal, without paying towards the civil list of the duke of richmond. were the whole produce of this imposition but a shilling a year, the iniquitous principle would be still the same; but when it amounts, as it is said to do, to no less than twenty thousand pounds per annum, the enormity is too serious to be permitted to remain. this is one of the effects of monarchy and aristocracy. in stating this case i am led by no personal dislike. though i think it mean in any man to live upon the public, the vice originates in the government; and so general is it become, that whether the parties are in the ministry or in the opposition, it makes no difference: they are sure of the guarantee of each other.] [footnote : in america the increase of commerce is greater in proportion than in england. it is, at this time, at least one half more than at any period prior to the revolution. the greatest number of vessels cleared out of the port of philadelphia, before the commencement of the war, was between eight and nine hundred. in the year , the number was upwards of twelve hundred. as the state of pennsylvania is estimated at an eighth part of the united states in population, the whole number of vessels must now be nearly ten thousand.] [footnote : when i saw mr. pitt's mode of estimating the balance of trade, in one of his parliamentary speeches, he appeared to me to know nothing of the nature and interest of commerce; and no man has more wantonly tortured it than himself. during a period of peace it has been havocked with the calamities of war. three times has it been thrown into stagnation, and the vessels unmanned by impressing, within less than four years of peace.] [footnote : rev. william knowle, master of the grammar school of thetford, in norfolk.] [footnote : politics and self-interest have been so uniformly connected that the world, from being so often deceived, has a right to be suspicious of public characters, but with regard to myself i am perfectly easy on this head. i did not, at my first setting out in public life, nearly seventeen years ago, turn my thoughts to subjects of government from motives of interest, and my conduct from that moment to this proves the fact. i saw an opportunity in which i thought i could do some good, and i followed exactly what my heart dictated. i neither read books, nor studied other people's opinion. i thought for myself. the case was this:-- during the suspension of the old governments in america, both prior to and at the breaking out of hostilities, i was struck with the order and decorum with which everything was conducted, and impressed with the idea that a little more than what society naturally performed was all the government that was necessary, and that monarchy and aristocracy were frauds and impositions upon mankind. on these principles i published the pamphlet common sense. the success it met with was beyond anything since the invention of printing. i gave the copyright to every state in the union, and the demand ran to not less than one hundred thousand copies. i continued the subject in the same manner, under the title of the crisis, till the complete establishment of the revolution. after the declaration of independence congress unanimously, and unknown to me, appointed me secretary in the foreign department. this was agreeable to me, because it gave me the opportunity of seeing into the abilities of foreign courts, and their manner of doing business. but a misunderstanding arising between congress and me, respecting one of their commissioners then in europe, mr. silas deane, i resigned the office, and declined at the same time the pecuniary offers made by the ministers of france and spain, m. gerald and don juan mirralles.] i had by this time so completely gained the ear and confidence of america, and my own independence was become so visible, as to give me a range in political writing beyond, perhaps, what any man ever possessed in any country, and, what is more extraordinary, i held it undiminished to the end of the war, and enjoy it in the same manner to the present moment. as my object was not myself, i set out with the determination, and happily with the disposition, of not being moved by praise or censure, friendship or calumny, nor of being drawn from my purpose by any personal altercation, and the man who cannot do this is not fit for a public character. when the war ended i went from philadelphia to borden-town, on the east bank of the delaware, where i have a small place. congress was at this time at prince-town, fifteen miles distant, and general washington had taken his headquarters at rocky hill, within the neighbourhood of congress, for the purpose of resigning up his commission (the object for which he accepted it being accomplished), and of retiring to private life. while he was on this business he wrote me the letter which i here subjoin: "rocky-hill, sept. , . "i have learned since i have been at this place that you are at borden-town. whether for the sake of retirement or economy i know not. be it for either, for both, or whatever it may, if you will come to this place, and partake with me, i shall be exceedingly happy to see you at it. "your presence may remind congress of your past services to this country, and if it is in my power to impress them, command my best exertions with freedom, as they will be rendered cheerfully by one who entertains a lively sense of the importance of your works, and who, with much pleasure, subscribes himself, your sincere friend, g. washington." during the war, in the latter end of the year , i formed to myself a design of coming over to england, and communicated it to general greene, who was then in philadelphia on his route to the southward, general washington being then at too great a distance to communicate with immediately. i was strongly impressed with the idea that if i could get over to england without being known, and only remain in safety till i could get out a publication, that i could open the eyes of the country with respect to the madness and stupidity of its government. i saw that the parties in parliament had pitted themselves as far as they could go, and could make no new impressions on each other. general greene entered fully into my views, but the affair of arnold and andre happening just after, he changed his mind, under strong apprehensions for my safety, wrote very pressingly to me from annapolis, in maryland, to give up the design, which, with some reluctance, i did. soon after this i accompanied colonel lawrens, son of mr. lawrens, who was then in the tower, to france on business from congress. we landed at l'orient, and while i remained there, he being gone forward, a circumstance occurred that renewed my former design. an english packet from falmouth to new york, with the government dispatches on board, was brought into l'orient. that a packet should be taken is no extraordinary thing, but that the dispatches should be taken with it will scarcely be credited, as they are always slung at the cabin window in a bag loaded with cannon-ball, and ready to be sunk at a moment. the fact, however, is as i have stated it, for the dispatches came into my hands, and i read them. the capture, as i was informed, succeeded by the following stratagem:--the captain of the "madame" privateer, who spoke english, on coming up with the packet, passed himself for the captain of an english frigate, and invited the captain of the packet on board, which, when done, he sent some of his own hands back, and he secured the mail. but be the circumstance of the capture what it may, i speak with certainty as to the government dispatches. they were sent up to paris to count vergennes, and when colonel lawrens and myself returned to america we took the originals to congress. by these dispatches i saw into the stupidity of the english cabinet far more than i otherwise could have done, and i renewed my former design. but colonel lawrens was so unwilling to return alone, more especially as, among other matters, we had a charge of upwards of two hundred thousand pounds sterling in money, that i gave in to his wishes, and finally gave up my plan. but i am now certain that if i could have executed it that it would not have been altogether unsuccessful.] [footnote : it is difficult to account for the origin of charter and corporation towns, unless we suppose them to have arisen out of, or been connected with, some species of garrison service. the times in which they began justify this idea. the generality of those towns have been garrisons, and the corporations were charged with the care of the gates of the towns, when no military garrison was present. their refusing or granting admission to strangers, which has produced the custom of giving, selling, and buying freedom, has more of the nature of garrison authority than civil government. soldiers are free of all corporations throughout the nation, by the same propriety that every soldier is free of every garrison, and no other persons are. he can follow any employment, with the permission of his officers, in any corporation towns throughout the nation.] [footnote : see sir john sinclair's history of the revenue. the land-tax in was l , , .] [footnote : several of the court newspapers have of late made frequent mention of wat tyler. that his memory should be traduced by court sycophants and an those who live on the spoil of a public is not to be wondered at. he was, however, the means of checking the rage and injustice of taxation in his time, and the nation owed much to his valour. the history is concisely this:--in the time of richard ii. a poll tax was levied of one shilling per head upon every person in the nation of whatever estate or condition, on poor as well as rich, above the age of fifteen years. if any favour was shown in the law it was to the rich rather than to the poor, as no person could be charged more than twenty shillings for himself, family and servants, though ever so numerous; while all other families, under the number of twenty were charged per head. poll taxes had always been odious, but this being also oppressive and unjust, it excited as it naturally must, universal detestation among the poor and middle classes. the person known by the name of wat tyler, whose proper name was walter, and a tiler by trade, lived at deptford. the gatherer of the poll tax, on coming to his house, demanded tax for one of his daughters, whom tyler declared was under the age of fifteen. the tax-gatherer insisted on satisfying himself, and began an indecent examination of the girl, which, enraging the father, he struck him with a hammer that brought him to the ground, and was the cause of his death. this circumstance served to bring the discontent to an issue. the inhabitants of the neighbourhood espoused the cause of tyler, who in a few days was joined, according to some histories, by upwards of fifty thousand men, and chosen their chief. with this force he marched to london, to demand an abolition of the tax and a redress of other grievances. the court, finding itself in a forlorn condition, and, unable to make resistance, agreed, with richard at its head, to hold a conference with tyler in smithfield, making many fair professions, courtier-like, of its dispositions to redress the oppressions. while richard and tyler were in conversation on these matters, each being on horseback, walworth, then mayor of london, and one of the creatures of the court, watched an opportunity, and like a cowardly assassin, stabbed tyler with a dagger, and two or three others falling upon him, he was instantly sacrificed. tyler appears to have been an intrepid disinterested man with respect to himself. all his proposals made to richard were on a more just and public ground than those which had been made to john by the barons, and notwithstanding the sycophancy of historians and men like mr. burke, who seek to gloss over a base action of the court by traducing tyler, his fame will outlive their falsehood. if the barons merited a monument to be erected at runnymede, tyler merited one in smithfield.] [footnote : i happened to be in england at the celebration of the centenary of the revolution of . the characters of william and mary have always appeared to be detestable; the one seeking to destroy his uncle, and the other her father, to get possession of power themselves; yet, as the nation was disposed to think something of that event, i felt hurt at seeing it ascribe the whole reputation of it to a man who had undertaken it as a job and who, besides what he otherwise got, charged six hundred thousand pounds for the expense of the fleet that brought him from holland. george the first acted the same close-fisted part as william had done, and bought the duchy of bremen with the money he got from england, two hundred and fifty thousand pounds over and above his pay as king, and having thus purchased it at the expense of england, added it to his hanoverian dominions for his own private profit. in fact, every nation that does not govern itself is governed as a job. england has been the prey of jobs ever since the revolution.] [footnote : charles, like his predecessors and successors, finding that war was the harvest of governments, engaged in a war with the dutch, the expense of which increased the annual expenditure to l , , as stated under the date of ; but the peace establishment was but l , , .] [footnote : poor-rates began about the time of henry viii., when the taxes began to increase, and they have increased as the taxes increased ever since.] [footnote : reckoning the taxes by families, five to a family, each family pays on an average l s. d. per annum. to this sum are to be added the poor-rates. though all pay taxes in the articles they consume, all do not pay poor-rates. about two millions are exempted: some as not being house-keepers, others as not being able, and the poor themselves who receive the relief. the average, therefore, of poor-rates on the remaining number, is forty shillings for every family of five persons, which make the whole average amount of taxes and rates l s. d. for six persons l s. for seven persons l o s. d. the average of taxes in america, under the new or representative system of government, including the interest of the debt contracted in the war, and taking the population at four millions of souls, which it now amounts to, and it is daily increasing, is five shillings per head, men, women, and children. the difference, therefore, between the two governments is as under: england america l s. d. l s. d. for a family of five persons for a family of six persons for a family of seven persons [footnote : public schools do not answer the general purpose of the poor. they are chiefly in corporation towns from which the country towns and villages are excluded, or, if admitted, the distance occasions a great loss of time. education, to be useful to the poor, should be on the spot, and the best method, i believe, to accomplish this is to enable the parents to pay the expenses themselves. there are always persons of both sexes to be found in every village, especially when growing into years, capable of such an undertaking. twenty children at ten shillings each (and that not more than six months each year) would be as much as some livings amount to in the remotest parts of england, and there are often distressed clergymen's widows to whom such an income would be acceptable. whatever is given on this account to children answers two purposes. to them it is education--to those who educate them it is a livelihood.] [footnote : the tax on beer brewed for sale, from which the aristocracy are exempt, is almost one million more than the present commutation tax, being by the returns of , l , , --and, consequently, they ought to take on themselves the amount of the commutation tax, as they are already exempted from one which is almost a million greater.] [footnote : see the reports on the corn trade.] [footnote : when enquiries are made into the condition of the poor, various degrees of distress will most probably be found, to render a different arrangement preferable to that which is already proposed. widows with families will be in greater want than where there are husbands living. there is also a difference in the expense of living in different counties: and more so in fuel. suppose then fifty thousand extraordinary cases, at the rate of ten pounds per family per annum l , , families, at l per family per annum , , families, at l per family per annum , , families, at l per family per annum , and instead of ten shillings per head for the education of other children, to allow fifty shillings per family for that purpose to fifty thousand families , ---------- l , , , aged persons as before , , ---------- l , , this arrangement amounts to the same sum as stated in this work, part ii, line number , including the l , for education; but it provides (including the aged people) for four hundred and four thousand families, which is almost one third of an the families in england.] [footnote : i know it is the opinion of many of the most enlightened characters in france (there always will be those who see further into events than others), not only among the general mass of citizens, but of many of the principal members of the former national assembly, that the monarchical plan will not continue many years in that country. they have found out, that as wisdom cannot be made hereditary, power ought not; and that, for a man to merit a million sterling a year from a nation, he ought to have a mind capable of comprehending from an atom to a universe, which, if he had, he would be above receiving the pay. but they wished not to appear to lead the nation faster than its own reason and interest dictated. in all the conversations where i have been present upon this subject, the idea always was, that when such a time, from the general opinion of the nation, shall arrive, that the honourable and liberal method would be, to make a handsome present in fee simple to the person, whoever he may be, that shall then be in the monarchical office, and for him to retire to the enjoyment of private life, possessing his share of general rights and privileges, and to be no more accountable to the public for his time and his conduct than any other citizen.] [footnote : the gentleman who signed the address and declaration as chairman of the meeting, mr. horne tooke, being generally supposed to be the person who drew it up, and having spoken much in commendation of it, has been jocularly accused of praising his own work. to free him from this embarrassment, and to save him the repeated trouble of mentioning the author, as he has not failed to do, i make no hesitation in saying, that as the opportunity of benefiting by the french revolution easily occurred to me, i drew up the publication in question, and showed it to him and some other gentlemen, who, fully approving it, held a meeting for the purpose of making it public, and subscribed to the amount of fifty guineas to defray the expense of advertising. i believe there are at this time, in england, a greater number of men acting on disinterested principles, and determined to look into the nature and practices of government themselves, and not blindly trust, as has hitherto been the case, either to government generally, or to parliaments, or to parliamentary opposition, than at any former period. had this been done a century ago, corruption and taxation had not arrived to the height they are now at.] -end of part ii.- the writings of thomas paine by thomas paine collected and edited by moncure daniel conway volume iv. the age of reason ( ) contents editor's introduction part one chapter i - the author's profession of faith chapter ii - of missions and revelations chapter iii - concerning the character of jesus christ, and his history chapter iv - of the bases of christianity chapter v - examination in detail of the preceding bases chapter vi - of the true theology chapter vii - examination of the old testament chapter viii - of the new testament chapter ix - in what the true revelation consists chapter x - concerning god, and the lights cast on his existence and attributes by the bible chapter xi - of the theology of the christians; and the true theology chapter xii - the effects of christianism on education; proposed reforms chapter xiii - comparison of christianism with the religious ideas inspired by nature chapter xiv - system of the universe chapter xv - advantages of the existence of many worlds in each solar system chapter xvi - applications of the preceding to the system of the christians chapter xvii - of the means employed in all time, and almost universally, to deceive the peoples recapitulation part two preface chapter i - the old testament chapter ii - the new testament chapter iii - conclusion editor's introduction with some results of recent researches. in the opening year, , when revolutionary france had beheaded its king, the wrath turned next upon the king of kings, by whose grace every tyrant claimed to reign. but eventualities had brought among them a great english and american heart--thomas paine. he had pleaded for louis caper--"kill the king but spare the man." now he pleaded,--"disbelieve in the king of kings, but do not confuse with that idol the father of mankind!" in paine's preface to the second part of "the age of reason" he describes himself as writing the first part near the close of the year . "i had not finished it more than six hours, in the state it has since appeared, before a guard came about three in the morning, with an order signed by the two committees of public safety and surety general, for putting me in arrestation." this was on the morning of december . but it is necessary to weigh the words just quoted--"in the state it has since appeared." for on august , , francois lanthenas, in an appeal for paine's liberation, wrote as follows: "i deliver to merlin de thionville a copy of the last work of t. payne [the age of reason], formerly our colleague, and in custody since the decree excluding foreigners from the national representation. this book was written by the author in the beginning of the year ' (old style). i undertook its translation before the revolution against priests, and it was published in french about the same time. couthon, to whom i sent it, seemed offended with me for having translated this work." under the frown of couthon, one of the most atrocious colleagues of robespierre, this early publication seems to have been so effectually suppressed that no copy bearing that date, , can be found in france or elsewhere. in paine's letter to samuel adams, printed in the present volume, he says that he had it translated into french, to stay the progress of atheism, and that he endangered his life "by opposing atheism." the time indicated by lanthenas as that in which he submitted the work to couthon would appear to be the latter part of march, , the fury against the priesthood having reached its climax in the decrees against them of march and . if the moral deformity of couthon, even greater than that of his body, be remembered, and the readiness with which death was inflicted for the most theoretical opinion not approved by the "mountain," it will appear probable that the offence given couthon by paine's book involved danger to him and his translator. on may , when the girondins were accused, the name of lanthenas was included, and he barely escaped; and on the same day danton persuaded paine not to appear in the convention, as his life might be in danger. whether this was because of the "age of reason," with its fling at the "goddess nature" or not, the statements of author and translator are harmonized by the fact that paine prepared the manuscript, with considerable additions and changes, for publication in english, as he has stated in the preface to part ii. a comparison of the french and english versions, sentence by sentence, proved to me that the translation sent by lanthenas to merlin de thionville in is the same as that he sent to couthon in . this discovery was the means of recovering several interesting sentences of the original work. i have given as footnotes translations of such clauses and phrases of the french work as appeared to be important. those familiar with the translations of lanthenas need not be reminded that he was too much of a literalist to depart from the manuscript before him, and indeed he did not even venture to alter it in an instance (presently considered) where it was obviously needed. nor would lanthenas have omitted any of the paragraphs lacking in his translation. this original work was divided into seventeen chapters, and these i have restored, translating their headings into english. the "age of reason" is thus for the first time given to the world with nearly its original completeness. it should be remembered that paine could not have read the proof of his "age of reason" (part i.) which went through the press while he was in prison. to this must be ascribed the permanence of some sentences as abbreviated in the haste he has described. a notable instance is the dropping out of his estimate of jesus the words rendered by lanthenas "trop peu imite, trop oublie, trop meconnu." the addition of these words to paine's tribute makes it the more notable that almost the only recognition of the human character and life of jesus by any theological writer of that generation came from one long branded as an infidel. to the inability of the prisoner to give his work any revision must be attributed the preservation in it of the singular error already alluded to, as one that lanthenas, but for his extreme fidelity, would have corrected. this is paine's repeated mention of six planets, and enumeration of them, twelve years after the discovery of uranus. paine was a devoted student of astronomy, and it cannot for a moment be supposed that he had not participated in the universal welcome of herschel's discovery. the omission of any allusion to it convinces me that the astronomical episode was printed from a manuscript written before , when uranus was discovered. unfamiliar with french in , paine might not have discovered the erratum in lanthenas' translation, and, having no time for copying, he would naturally use as much as possible of the same manuscript in preparing his work for english readers. but he had no opportunity of revision, and there remains an erratum which, if my conjecture be correct, casts a significant light on the paragraphs in which he alludes to the preparation of the work. he states that soon after his publication of "common sense" ( ), he "saw the exceeding probability that a revolution in the system of government would be followed by a revolution in the system of religion," and that "man would return to the pure, unmixed, and unadulterated belief of one god and no more." he tells samuel adams that it had long been his intention to publish his thoughts upon religion, and he had made a similar remark to john adams in . like the quakers among whom he was reared paine could then readily use the phrase "word of god" for anything in the bible which approved itself to his "inner light," and as he had drawn from the first book of samuel a divine condemnation of monarchy, john adams, a unitarian, asked him if he believed in the inspiration of the old testament. paine replied that he did not, and at a later period meant to publish his views on the subject. there is little doubt that he wrote from time to time on religious points, during the american war, without publishing his thoughts, just as he worked on the problem of steam navigation, in which he had invented a practicable method (ten years before john fitch made his discovery) without publishing it. at any rate it appears to me certain that the part of "the age of reason" connected with paine's favorite science, astronomy, was written before , when uranus was discovered. paine's theism, however invested with biblical and christian phraseology, was a birthright. it appears clear from several allusions in "the age of reason" to the quakers that in his early life, or before the middle of the eighteenth century, the people so called were substantially deists. an interesting confirmation of paine's statements concerning them appears as i write in an account sent by count leo tolstoi to the london 'times' of the russian sect called dukhobortsy (the times, october , ). this sect sprang up in the last century, and the narrative says: "the first seeds of the teaching called afterwards 'dukhoborcheskaya' were sown by a foreigner, a quaker, who came to russia. the fundamental idea of his quaker teaching was that in the soul of man dwells god himself, and that he himself guides man by his inner word. god lives in nature physically and in man's soul spiritually. to christ, as to an historical personage, the dukhobortsy do not ascribe great importance... christ was god's son, but only in the sense in which we call, ourselves 'sons of god.' the purpose of christ's sufferings was no other than to show us an example of suffering for truth. the quakers who, in , visited the dukhobortsy, could not agree with them upon these religious subjects; and when they heard from them their opinion about jesus christ (that he was a man), exclaimed 'darkness!' from the old and new testaments,' they say, 'we take only what is useful,' mostly the moral teaching.... the moral ideas of the dukhobortsy are the following:--all men are, by nature, equal; external distinctions, whatsoever they may be, are worth nothing. this idea of men's equality the dukhoborts have directed further, against the state authority.... amongst themselves they hold subordination, and much more, a monarchical government, to be contrary to their ideas." here is an early hicksite quakerism carried to russia long before the birth of elias hicks, who recovered it from paine, to whom the american quakers refused burial among them. although paine arraigned the union of church and state, his ideal republic was religious; it was based on a conception of equality based on the divine son-ship of every man. this faith underlay equally his burden against claims to divine partiality by a "chosen people," a priesthood, a monarch "by the grace of god," or an aristocracy. paine's "reason" is only an expansion of the quaker's "inner light"; and the greater impression, as compared with previous republican and deistic writings made by his "rights of man" and "age of reason" (really volumes of one work), is partly explained by the apostolic fervor which made him a spiritual, successor of george fox. paine's mind was by no means skeptical, it was eminently instructive. that he should have waited until his fifty-seventh year before publishing his religious convictions was due to a desire to work out some positive and practicable system to take the place of that which he believed was crumbling. the english engineer hall, who assisted paine in making the model of his iron bridge, wrote to his friends in england, in : "my employer has common sense enough to disbelieve most of the common systematic theories of divinity, but does not seem to establish any for himself." but five years later paine was able to lay the corner-stone of his temple: "with respect to religion itself, without regard to names, and as directing itself from the universal family of mankind to the 'divine object of all adoration, it is man bringing to his maker the fruits of his heart; and though those fruits may differ from each other like the fruits of the earth, the grateful tribute of every one, is accepted." ("rights of man." see my edition of paine's writings, ii., p. .) here we have a reappearance of george fox confuting the doctor in america who "denied the light and spirit of god to be in every one; and affirmed that it was not in the indians. whereupon i called an indian to us, and asked him 'whether or not, when he lied, or did wrong to anyone, there was not something in him that reproved him for it?' he said, 'there was such a thing in him that did so reprove him; and he was ashamed when he had done wrong, or spoken wrong.' so we shamed the doctor before the governor and the people." (journal of george fox, september .) paine, who coined the phrase "religion of humanity" (the crisis, vii., ), did but logically defend it in "the age of reason," by denying a special revelation to any particular tribe, or divine authority in any particular creed of church; and the centenary of this much-abused publication has been celebrated by a great conservative champion of church and state, mr. balfour, who, in his "foundations of belief," affirms that "inspiration" cannot be denied to the great oriental teachers, unless grapes may be gathered from thorns. the centenary of the complete publication of "the age of reason," (october , ), was also celebrated at the church congress, norwich, on october , , when professor bonney, f.r.s., canon of manchester, read a paper in which he said: "i cannot deny that the increase of scientific knowledge has deprived parts of the earlier books of the bible of the historical value which was generally attributed to them by our forefathers. the story of creation in the book of genesis, unless we play fast and loose either with words or with science, cannot be brought into harmony with what we have learnt from geology. its ethnological statements are imperfect, if not sometimes inaccurate. the stories of the fall, of the flood, and of the tower of babel, are incredible in their present form. some historical element may underlie many of the traditions in the first eleven chapters in that book, but this we cannot hope to recover." canon bonney proceeded to say of the new testament also, that "the gospels are not so far as we know, strictly contemporaneous records, so we must admit the possibility of variations and even inaccuracies in details being introduced by oral tradition." the canon thinks the interval too short for these importations to be serious, but that any question of this kind is left open proves the age of reason fully upon us. reason alone can determine how many texts are as spurious as the three heavenly witnesses (i john v. ), and like it "serious" enough to have cost good men their lives, and persecutors their charities. when men interpolate, it is because they believe their interpolation seriously needed. it will be seen by a note in part ii. of the work, that paine calls attention to an interpolation introduced into the first american edition without indication of its being an editorial footnote. this footnote was: "the book of luke was carried by a majority of one only. vide moshelm's ecc. history." dr. priestley, then in america, answered paine's work, and in quoting less than a page from the "age of reason" he made three alterations,--one of which changed "church mythologists" into "christian mythologists,"--and also raised the editorial footnote into the text, omitting the reference to mosheim. having done this, priestley writes: "as to the gospel of luke being carried by a majority of one only, it is a legend, if not of mr. paine's own invention, of no better authority whatever." and so on with further castigation of the author for what he never wrote, and which he himself (priestley) was the unconscious means of introducing into the text within the year of paine's publication. if this could be done, unintentionally by a conscientious and exact man, and one not unfriendly to paine, if such a writer as priestley could make four mistakes in citing half a page, it will appear not very wonderful when i state that in a modern popular edition of "the age of reason," including both parts, i have noted about five hundred deviations from the original. these were mainly the accumulated efforts of friendly editors to improve paine's grammar or spelling; some were misprints, or developed out of such; and some resulted from the sale in london of a copy of part second surreptitiously made from the manuscript. these facts add significance to paine's footnote (itself altered in some editions!), in which he says: "if this has happened within such a short space of time, notwithstanding the aid of printing, which prevents the alteration of copies individually; what may not have happened in a much greater length of time, when there was no printing, and when any man who could write, could make a written copy, and call it an original, by matthew, mark, luke, or john." nothing appears to me more striking, as an illustration of the far-reaching effects of traditional prejudice, than the errors into which some of our ablest contemporary scholars have fallen by reason of their not having studied paine. professor huxley, for instance, speaking of the freethinkers of the eighteenth century, admires the acuteness, common sense, wit, and the broad humanity of the best of them, but says "there is rarely much to be said for their work as an example of the adequate treatment of a grave and difficult investigation," and that they shared with their adversaries "to the full the fatal weakness of a priori philosophizing." [note: science and christian tradition, p. (lon. ed., ).] professor huxley does not name paine, evidently because he knows nothing about him. yet paine represents the turning-point of the historical freethinking movement; he renounced the 'a priori' method, refused to pronounce anything impossible outside pure mathematics, rested everything on evidence, and really founded the huxleyan school. he plagiarized by anticipation many things from the rationalistic leaders of our time, from strauss and baur (being the first to expatiate on "christian mythology"), from renan (being the first to attempt recovery of the human jesus), and notably from huxley, who has repeated paine's arguments on the untrustworthiness of the biblical manuscripts and canon, on the inconsistencies of the narratives of christ's resurrection, and various other points. none can be more loyal to the memory of huxley than the present writer, and it is even because of my sense of his grand leadership that he is here mentioned as a typical instance of the extent to which the very elect of free-thought may be unconsciously victimized by the phantasm with which they are contending. he says that butler overthrew freethinkers of the eighteenth century type, but paine was of the nineteenth century type; and it was precisely because of his critical method that he excited more animosity than his deistical predecessors. he compelled the apologists to defend the biblical narratives in detail, and thus implicitly acknowledge the tribunal of reason and knowledge to which they were summoned. the ultimate answer by police was a confession of judgment. a hundred years ago england was suppressing paine's works, and many an honest englishman has gone to prison for printing and circulating his "age of reason." the same views are now freely expressed; they are heard in the seats of learning, and even in the church congress; but the suppression of paine, begun by bigotry and ignorance, is continued in the long indifference of the representatives of our age of reason to their pioneer and founder. it is a grievous loss to them and to their cause. it is impossible to understand the religious history of england, and of america, without studying the phases of their evolution represented in the writings of thomas paine, in the controversies that grew out of them with such practical accompaniments as the foundation of the theophilanthropist church in paris and new york, and of the great rationalist wing of quakerism in america. whatever may be the case with scholars in our time, those of paine's time took the "age of reason" very seriously indeed. beginning with the learned dr. richard watson, bishop of llandaff, a large number of learned men replied to paine's work, and it became a signal for the commencement of those concessions, on the part of theology, which have continued to our time; and indeed the so-called "broad church" is to some extent an outcome of "the age of reason." it would too much enlarge this introduction to cite here the replies made to paine (thirty-six are catalogued in the british museum), but it may be remarked that they were notably free, as a rule, from the personalities that raged in the pulpits. i must venture to quote one passage from his very learned antagonist, the rev. gilbert wakefield, b.a., "late fellow of jesus college, cambridge." wakefield, who had resided in london during all the paine panic, and was well acquainted with the slanders uttered against the author of "rights of man," indirectly brands them in answering paine's argument that the original and traditional unbelief of the jews, among whom the alleged miracles were wrought, is an important evidence against them. the learned divine writes: "but the subject before us admits of further illustration from the example of mr. paine himself. in this country, where his opposition to the corruptions of government has raised him so many adversaries, and such a swarm of unprincipled hirelings have exerted themselves in blackening his character and in misrepresenting all the transactions and incidents of his life, will it not be a most difficult, nay an impossible task, for posterity, after a lapse of years, if such a wreck of modern literature as that of the ancient, should intervene, to identify the real circumstances, moral and civil, of the man? and will a true historian, such as the evangelists, be credited at that future period against such a predominant incredulity, without large and mighty accessions of collateral attestation? and how transcendently extraordinary, i had almost said miraculous, will it be estimated by candid and reasonable minds, that a writer whose object was a melioration of condition to the common people, and their deliverance from oppression, poverty, wretchedness, to the numberless blessings of upright and equal government, should be reviled, persecuted, and burned in effigy, with every circumstance of insult and execration, by these very objects of his benevolent intentions, in every corner of the kingdom?" after the execution of louis xvi., for whose life paine pleaded so earnestly,--while in england he was denounced as an accomplice in the deed,--he devoted himself to the preparation of a constitution, and also to gathering up his religious compositions and adding to them. this manuscript i suppose to have been prepared in what was variously known as white's hotel or philadelphia house, in paris, no. passage des petits peres. this compilation of early and fresh manuscripts (if my theory be correct) was labelled, "the age of reason," and given for translation to francois lanthenas in march . it is entered, in qudrard (la france literaire) under the year , but with the title "l'age de la raison" instead of that which it bore in , "le siecle de la raison." the latter, printed "au burcau de l'imprimerie, rue du theatre-francais, no. ," is said to be by "thomas paine, citoyen et cultivateur de l'amerique septentrionale, secretaire du congres du departement des affaires etrangeres pendant la guerre d'amerique, et auteur des ouvrages intitules: la sens commun et les droits de l'homme." when the revolution was advancing to increasing terrors, paine, unwilling to participate in the decrees of a convention whose sole legal function was to frame a constitution, retired to an old mansion and garden in the faubourg st. denis, no. . mr. j.g. alger, whose researches in personal details connected with the revolution are original and useful, recently showed me in the national archives at paris, some papers connected with the trial of georgeit, paine's landlord, by which it appears that the present no. is not, as i had supposed, the house in which paine resided. mr. alger accompanied me to the neighborhood, but we were not able to identify the house. the arrest of georgeit is mentioned by paine in his essay on "forgetfulness" (writings, iii., ). when his trial came on one of the charges was that he had kept in his house "paine and other englishmen,"--paine being then in prison,--but he (georgeit) was acquitted of the paltry accusations brought against him by his section, the "faubourg du nord." this section took in the whole east side of the faubourg st. denis, whereas the present no. is on the west side. after georgeit (or georger) had been arrested, paine was left alone in the large mansion (said by rickman to have been once the hotel of madame de pompadour), and it would appear, by his account, that it was after the execution (october , ) of his friends the girondins, and political comrades, that he felt his end at hand, and set about his last literary bequest to the world,--"the age of reason,"--in the state in which it has since appeared, as he is careful to say. there was every probability, during the months in which he wrote (november and december ) that he would be executed. his religious testament was prepared with the blade of the guillotine suspended over him,--a fact which did not deter pious mythologists from portraying his death-bed remorse for having written the book. in editing part i. of "the age of reason," i follow closely the first edition, which was printed by barrois in paris from the manuscript, no doubt under the superintendence of joel barlow, to whom paine, on his way to the luxembourg, had confided it. barlow was an american ex-clergyman, a speculator on whose career french archives cast an unfavorable light, and one cannot be certain that no liberties were taken with paine's proofs. i may repeat here what i have stated in the outset of my editorial work on paine that my rule is to correct obvious misprints, and also any punctuation which seems to render the sense less clear. and to that i will now add that in following paine's quotations from the bible i have adopted the plan now generally used in place of his occasionally too extended writing out of book, chapter, and verse. paine was imprisoned in the luxembourg on december , , and released on november , . his liberation was secured by his old friend, james monroe (afterwards president), who had succeeded his (paine's) relentless enemy, gouverneur morris, as american minister in paris. he was found by monroe more dead than alive from semi-starvation, cold, and an abscess contracted in prison, and taken to the minister's own residence. it was not supposed that he could survive, and he owed his life to the tender care of mr. and mrs. monroe. it was while thus a prisoner in his room, with death still hovering over him, that paine wrote part second of "the age of reason." the work was published in london by h.d. symonds on october , , and claimed to be "from the author's manuscript." it is marked as "entered at stationers hall," and prefaced by an apologetic note of "the bookseller to the public," whose commonplaces about avoiding both prejudice and partiality, and considering "both sides," need not be quoted. while his volume was going through the press in paris, paine heard of the publication in london, which drew from him the following hurried note to a london publisher, no doubt daniel isaacs eaton: "sir,--i have seen advertised in the london papers the second edition [part] of the age of reason, printed, the advertisement says, from the author's manuscript, and entered at stationers hall. i have never sent any manuscript to any person. it is therefore a forgery to say it is printed from the author's manuscript; and i suppose is done to give the publisher a pretence of copy right, which he has no title to. "i send you a printed copy, which is the only one i have sent to london. i wish you to make a cheap edition of it. i know not by what means any copy has got over to london. if any person has made a manuscript copy i have no doubt but it is full of errors. i wish you would talk to mr. ----- upon this subject as i wish to know by what means this trick has been played, and from whom the publisher has got possession of any copy. "t. paine. "paris, december , " eaton's cheap edition appeared january , , with the above letter on the reverse of the title. the blank in the note was probably "symonds" in the original, and possibly that publisher was imposed upon. eaton, already in trouble for printing one of paine's political pamphlets, fled to america, and an edition of the "age of reason" was issued under a new title; no publisher appears; it is said to be "printed for, and sold by all the booksellers in great britain and ireland." it is also said to be "by thomas paine, author of several remarkable performances." i have never found any copy of this anonymous edition except the one in my possession. it is evidently the edition which was suppressed by the prosecution of williams for selling a copy of it. a comparison with paine's revised edition reveals a good many clerical and verbal errors in symonds, though few that affect the sense. the worst are in the preface, where, instead of " ," the misleading date " " is given as the year at whose close paine completed part first,--an error that spread far and wide and was fastened on by his calumnious american "biographer," cheetham, to prove his inconsistency. the editors have been fairly demoralized by, and have altered in different ways, the following sentence of the preface in symonds: "the intolerant spirit of religious persecution had transferred itself into politics; the tribunals, styled revolutionary, supplied the place of the inquisition; and the guillotine of the state outdid the fire and faggot of the church." the rogue who copied this little knew the care with which paine weighed words, and that he would never call persecution "religious," nor connect the guillotine with the "state," nor concede that with all its horrors it had outdone the history of fire and faggot. what paine wrote was: "the intolerant spirit of church persecution had transferred itself into politics; the tribunals, styled revolutionary, supplied the place of an inquisition and the guillotine, of the stake." an original letter of paine, in the possession of joseph cowen, ex-m.p., which that gentleman permits me to bring to light, besides being one of general interest makes clear the circumstances of the original publication. although the name of the correspondent does not appear on the letter, it was certainly written to col. john fellows of new york, who copyrighted part i. of the "age of reason." he published the pamphlets of joel barlow, to whom paine confided his manuscript on his way to prison. fellows was afterwards paine's intimate friend in new york, and it was chiefly due to him that some portions of the author's writings, left in manuscript to madame bonneville while she was a freethinker were rescued from her devout destructiveness after her return to catholicism. the letter which mr. cowen sends me, is dated at paris, january , . "sir,--your friend mr. caritat being on the point of his departure for america, i make it the opportunity of writing to you. i received two letters from you with some pamphlets a considerable time past, in which you inform me of your entering a copyright of the first part of the age of reason: when i return to america we will settle for that matter. "as doctor franklin has been my intimate friend for thirty years past you will naturally see the reason of my continuing the connection with his grandson. i printed here (paris) about fifteen thousand of the second part of the age of reason, which i sent to mr. f[ranklin] bache. i gave him notice of it in september and the copy-right by my own direction was entered by him. the books did not arrive till april following, but he had advertised it long before. "i sent to him in august last a manuscript letter of about pages, from me to mr. washington to be printed in a pamphlet. mr. barnes of philadelphia carried the letter from me over to london to be forwarded to america. it went by the ship hope, cap: harley, who since his return from america told me that he put it into the post office at new york for bache. i have yet no certain account of its publication. i mention this that the letter may be enquired after, in case it has not been published or has not arrived to mr. bache. barnes wrote to me, from london august informing me that he was offered three hundred pounds sterling for the manuscript. the offer was refused because it was my intention it should not appear till it appeared in america, as that, and not england was the place for its operation. "you ask me by your letter to mr. caritat for a list of my several works, in order to publish a collection of them. this is an undertaking i have always reserved for myself. it not only belongs to me of right, but nobody but myself can do it; and as every author is accountable (at least in reputation) for his works, he only is the person to do it. if he neglects it in his life-time the case is altered. it is my intention to return to america in the course of the present year. i shall then [do] it by subscription, with historical notes. as this work will employ many persons in different parts of the union, i will confer with you upon the subject, and such part of it as will suit you to undertake, will be at your choice. i have sustained so much loss, by disinterestedness and inattention to money matters, and by accidents, that i am obliged to look closer to my affairs than i have done. the printer (an englishman) whom i employed here to print the second part of 'the age of reason' made a manuscript copy of the work while he was printing it, which he sent to london and sold. it was by this means that an edition of it came out in london. "we are waiting here for news from america of the state of the federal elections. you will have heard long before this reaches you that the french government has refused to receive mr. pinckney as minister. while mr. monroe was minister he had the opportunity of softening matters with this government, for he was in good credit with them tho' they were in high indignation at the infidelity of the washington administration. it is time that mr. washington retire, for he has played off so much prudent hypocrisy between france and england that neither government believes anything he says. "your friend, etc., "thomas paine." it would appear that symonds' stolen edition must have got ahead of that sent by paine to franklin bache, for some of its errors continue in all modern american editions to the present day, as well as in those of england. for in england it was only the shilling edition--that revised by paine--which was suppressed. symonds, who ministered to the half-crown folk, and who was also publisher of replies to paine, was left undisturbed about his pirated edition, and the new society for the suppression of vice and immorality fastened on one thomas williams, who sold pious tracts but was also convicted (june , ) of having sold one copy of the "age of reason." erskine, who had defended paine at his trial for the "rights of man," conducted the prosecution of williams. he gained the victory from a packed jury, but was not much elated by it, especially after a certain adventure on his way to lincoln's inn. he felt his coat clutched and beheld at his feet a woman bathed in tears. she led him into the small book-shop of thomas williams, not yet called up for judgment, and there he beheld his victim stitching tracts in a wretched little room, where there were three children, two suffering with smallpox. he saw that it would be ruin and even a sort of murder to take away to prison the husband, who was not a freethinker, and lamented his publication of the book, and a meeting of the society which had retained him was summoned. there was a full meeting, the bishop of london (porteus) in the chair. erskine reminded them that williams was yet to be brought up for sentence, described the scene he had witnessed, and williams' penitence, and, as the book was now suppressed, asked permission to move for a nominal sentence. mercy, he urged, was a part of the christianity they were defending. not one of the society took his side,--not even "philanthropic" wilberforce--and erskine threw up his brief. this action of erskine led the judge to give williams only a year in prison instead of the three he said had been intended. while williams was in prison the orthodox colporteurs were circulating erskine's speech on christianity, but also an anonymous sermon "on the existence and attributes of the deity," all of which was from paine's "age of reason," except a brief "address to the deity" appended. this picturesque anomaly was repeated in the circulation of paine's "discourse to the theophilanthropists" (their and the author's names removed) under the title of "atheism refuted." both of these pamphlets are now before me, and beside them a london tract of one page just sent for my spiritual benefit. this is headed "a word of caution." it begins by mentioning the "pernicious doctrines of paine," the first being "that there is no god" (sic,) then proceeds to adduce evidences of divine existence taken from paine's works. it should be added that this one dingy page is the only "survival" of the ancient paine effigy in the tract form which i have been able to find in recent years, and to this no society or publisher's name is attached. the imprisonment of williams was the beginning of a thirty years' war for religious liberty in england, in the course of which occurred many notable events, such as eaton receiving homage in his pillory at choring cross, and the whole carlile family imprisoned,--its head imprisoned more than nine years for publishing the "age of reason." this last victory of persecution was suicidal. gentlemen of wealth, not adherents of paine, helped in setting carlile up in business in fleet street, where free-thinking publications have since been sold without interruption. but though liberty triumphed in one sense, the "age of reason." remained to some extent suppressed among those whose attention it especially merited. its original prosecution by a society for the suppression of vice (a device to, relieve the crown) amounted to a libel upon a morally clean book, restricting its perusal in families; and the fact that the shilling book sold by and among humble people was alone prosecuted, diffused among the educated an equally false notion that the "age of reason" was vulgar and illiterate. the theologians, as we have seen, estimated more justly the ability of their antagonist, the collaborator of franklin, rittenhouse, and clymer, on whom the university of pennsylvania had conferred the degree of master of arts,--but the gentry confused paine with the class described by burke as "the swinish multitude." skepticism, or its free utterance, was temporarily driven out of polite circles by its complication with the out-lawed vindicator of the "rights of man." but that long combat has now passed away. time has reduced the "age of reason" from a flag of popular radicalism to a comparatively conservative treatise, so far as its negations are concerned. an old friend tells me that in his youth he heard a sermon in which the preacher declared that "tom paine was so wicked that he could not be buried; his bones were thrown into a box which was bandied about the world till it came to a button-manufacturer; and now paine is travelling round the world in the form of buttons!" this variant of the wandering jew myth may now be regarded as unconscious homage to the author whose metaphorical bones may be recognized in buttons now fashionable, and some even found useful in holding clerical vestments together. but the careful reader will find in paine's "age of reason" something beyond negations, and in conclusion i will especially call attention to the new departure in theism indicated in a passage corresponding to a famous aphorism of kant, indicated by a note in part ii. the discovery already mentioned, that part i. was written at least fourteen years before part ii., led me to compare the two; and it is plain that while the earlier work is an amplification of newtonian deism, based on the phenomena of planetary motion, the work of bases belief in god on "the universal display of himself in the works of the creation and by that repugnance we feel in ourselves to bad actions, and disposition to do good ones." this exaltation of the moral nature of man to be the foundation of theistic religion, though now familiar, was a hundred years ago a new affirmation; it has led on a conception of deity subversive of last-century deism, it has steadily humanized religion, and its ultimate philosophical and ethical results have not yet been reached. chapter i - the author's profession of faith. it has been my intention, for several years past, to publish my thoughts upon religion; i am well aware of the difficulties that attend the subject, and from that consideration, had reserved it to a more advanced period of life. i intended it to be the last offering i should make to my fellow-citizens of all nations, and that at a time when the purity of the motive that induced me to it could not admit of a question, even by those who might disapprove the work. the circumstance that has now taken place in france, of the total abolition of the whole national order of priesthood, and of everything appertaining to compulsive systems of religion, and compulsive articles of faith, has not only precipitated my intention, but rendered a work of this kind exceedingly necessary, lest, in the general wreck of superstition, of false systems of government, and false theology, we lose sight of morality, of humanity, and of the theology that is true. as several of my colleagues, and others of my fellow-citizens of france, have given me the example of making their voluntary and individual profession of faith, i also will make mine; and i do this with all that sincerity and frankness with which the mind of man communicates with itself. i believe in one god, and no more; and i hope for happiness beyond this life. i believe the equality of man, and i believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy. but, lest it should be supposed that i believe many other things in addition to these, i shall, in the progress of this work, declare the things i do not believe, and my reasons for not believing them. i do not believe in the creed professed by the jewish church, by the roman church, by the greek church, by the turkish church, by the protestant church, nor by any church that i know of. my own mind is my own church. all national institutions of churches, whether jewish, christian, or turkish, appear to me no other than human inventions set up to terrify and enslave mankind, and monopolize power and profit. i do not mean by this declaration to condemn those who believe otherwise; they have the same right to their belief as i have to mine. but it is necessary to the happiness of man, that he be mentally faithful to himself. infidelity does not consist in believing, or in disbelieving; it consists in professing to believe what he does not believe. it is impossible to calculate the moral mischief, if i may so express it, that mental lying has produced in society. when a man has so far corrupted and prostituted the chastity of his mind, as to subscribe his professional belief to things he does not believe, he has prepared himself for the commission of every other crime. he takes up the trade of a priest for the sake of gain, and, in order to qualify himself for that trade, he begins with a perjury. can we conceive anything more destructive to morality than this? soon after i had published the pamphlet common sense, in america, i saw the exceeding probability that a revolution in the system of government would be followed by a revolution in the system of religion. the adulterous connection of church and state, wherever it had taken place, whether jewish, christian, or turkish, had so effectually prohibited, by pains and penalties, every discussion upon established creeds, and upon first principles of religion, that until the system of government should be changed, those subjects could not be brought fairly and openly before the world; but that whenever this should be done, a revolution in the system of religion would follow. human inventions and priest-craft would be detected; and man would return to the pure, unmixed, and unadulterated belief of one god, and no more. chapter ii - of missions and revelations. every national church or religion has established itself by pretending some special mission from god, communicated to certain individuals. the jews have their moses; the christians their jesus christ, their apostles and saints; and the turks their mahomet; as if the way to god was not open to every man alike. each of those churches shows certain books, which they call revelation, or the word of god. the jews say that their word of god was given by god to moses face to face; the christians say, that their word of god came by divine inspiration; and the turks say, that their word of god (the koran) was brought by an angel from heaven. each of those churches accuses the other of unbelief; and, for my own part, i disbelieve them all. as it is necessary to affix right ideas to words, i will, before i proceed further into the subject, offer some observations on the word 'revelation.' revelation when applied to religion, means something communicated immediately from god to man. no one will deny or dispute the power of the almighty to make such a communication if he pleases. but admitting, for the sake of a case, that something has been revealed to a certain person, and not revealed to any other person, it is revelation to that person only. when he tells it to a second person, a second to a third, a third to a fourth, and so on, it ceases to be a revelation to all those persons. it is revelation to the first person only, and hearsay to every other, and, consequently, they are not obliged to believe it. it is a contradiction in terms and ideas to call anything a revelation that comes to us at second hand, either verbally or in writing. revelation is necessarily limited to the first communication. after this, it is only an account of something which that person says was a revelation made to him; and though he may find himself obliged to believe it, it cannot be incumbent on me to believe it in the same manner, for it was not a revelation made to me, and i have only his word for it that it was made to him. when moses told the children of israel that he received the two tables of the commandments from the hand of god, they were not obliged to believe him, because they had no other authority for it than his telling them so; and i have no other authority for it than some historian telling me so, the commandments carrying no internal evidence of divinity with them. they contain some good moral precepts such as any man qualified to be a lawgiver or a legislator could produce himself, without having recourse to supernatural intervention. [note: it is, however, necessary to except the declamation which says that god 'visits the sins of the fathers upon the children'. this is contrary to every principle of moral justice.--author.] when i am told that the koran was written in heaven, and brought to mahomet by an angel, the account comes to near the same kind of hearsay evidence and second hand authority as the former. i did not see the angel myself, and therefore i have a right not to believe it. when also i am told that a woman, called the virgin mary, said, or gave out, that she was with child without any cohabitation with a man, and that her betrothed husband, joseph, said that an angel told him so, i have a right to believe them or not: such a circumstance required a much stronger evidence than their bare word for it: but we have not even this; for neither joseph nor mary wrote any such matter themselves. it is only reported by others that they said so. it is hearsay upon hearsay, and i do not chose to rest my belief upon such evidence. it is, however, not difficult to account for the credit that was given to the story of jesus christ being the son of god. he was born when the heathen mythology had still some fashion and repute in the world, and that mythology had prepared the people for the belief of such a story. almost all the extraordinary men that lived under the heathen mythology were reputed to be the sons of some of their gods. it was not a new thing at that time to believe a man to have been celestially begotten; the intercourse of gods with women was then a matter of familiar opinion. their jupiter, according to their accounts, had cohabited with hundreds; the story therefore had nothing in it either new, wonderful, or obscene; it was conformable to the opinions that then prevailed among the people called gentiles, or mythologists, and it was those people only that believed it. the jews, who had kept strictly to the belief of one god, and no more, and who had always rejected the heathen mythology, never credited the story. it is curious to observe how the theory of what is called the christian church, sprung out of the tail of the heathen mythology. a direct incorporation took place in the first instance, by making the reputed founder to be celestially begotten. the trinity of gods that then followed was no other than a reduction of the former plurality, which was about twenty or thirty thousand. the statue of mary succeeded the statue of diana of ephesus. the deification of heroes changed into the canonization of saints. the mythologists had gods for everything; the christian mythologists had saints for everything. the church became as crowded with the one, as the pantheon had been with the other; and rome was the place of both. the christian theory is little else than the idolatry of the ancient mythologists, accommodated to the purposes of power and revenue; and it yet remains to reason and philosophy to abolish the amphibious fraud. chapter iii - concerning the character of jesus christ, and his history. nothing that is here said can apply, even with the most distant disrespect, to the real character of jesus christ. he was a virtuous and an amiable man. the morality that he preached and practiced was of the most benevolent kind; and though similar systems of morality had been preached by confucius, and by some of the greek philosophers, many years before, by the quakers since, and by many good men in all ages, it has not been exceeded by any. jesus christ wrote no account of himself, of his birth, parentage, or anything else. not a line of what is called the new testament is of his writing. the history of him is altogether the work of other people; and as to the account given of his resurrection and ascension, it was the necessary counterpart to the story of his birth. his historians, having brought him into the world in a supernatural manner, were obliged to take him out again in the same manner, or the first part of the story must have fallen to the ground. the wretched contrivance with which this latter part is told, exceeds everything that went before it. the first part, that of the miraculous conception, was not a thing that admitted of publicity; and therefore the tellers of this part of the story had this advantage, that though they might not be credited, they could not be detected. they could not be expected to prove it, because it was not one of those things that admitted of proof, and it was impossible that the person of whom it was told could prove it himself. but the resurrection of a dead person from the grave, and his ascension through the air, is a thing very different, as to the evidence it admits of, to the invisible conception of a child in the womb. the resurrection and ascension, supposing them to have taken place, admitted of public and ocular demonstration, like that of the ascension of a balloon, or the sun at noon day, to all jerusalem at least. a thing which everybody is required to believe, requires that the proof and evidence of it should be equal to all, and universal; and as the public visibility of this last related act was the only evidence that could give sanction to the former part, the whole of it falls to the ground, because that evidence never was given. instead of this, a small number of persons, not more than eight or nine, are introduced as proxies for the whole world, to say they saw it, and all the rest of the world are called upon to believe it. but it appears that thomas did not believe the resurrection; and, as they say, would not believe without having ocular and manual demonstration himself. so neither will i; and the reason is equally as good for me, and for every other person, as for thomas. it is in vain to attempt to palliate or disguise this matter. the story, so far as relates to the supernatural part, has every mark of fraud and imposition stamped upon the face of it. who were the authors of it is as impossible for us now to know, as it is for us to be assured that the books in which the account is related were written by the persons whose names they bear. the best surviving evidence we now have respecting this affair is the jews. they are regularly descended from the people who lived in the time this resurrection and ascension is said to have happened, and they say 'it is not true.' it has long appeared to me a strange inconsistency to cite the jews as a proof of the truth of the story. it is just the same as if a man were to say, i will prove the truth of what i have told you, by producing the people who say it is false. that such a person as jesus christ existed, and that he was crucified, which was the mode of execution at that day, are historical relations strictly within the limits of probability. he preached most excellent morality, and the equality of man; but he preached also against the corruptions and avarice of the jewish priests, and this brought upon him the hatred and vengeance of the whole order of priest-hood. the accusation which those priests brought against him was that of sedition and conspiracy against the roman government, to which the jews were then subject and tributary; and it is not improbable that the roman government might have some secret apprehension of the effects of his doctrine as well as the jewish priests; neither is it improbable that jesus christ had in contemplation the delivery of the jewish nation from the bondage of the romans. between the two, however, this virtuous reformer and revolutionist lost his life. [note: the french work has here: "however this may be, for one or the other of these suppositions this virtuous reformer, this revolutionist, too little imitated, too much forgotten, too much misunderstood, lost his life."--editor. (conway)] chapter iv - of the bases of christianity. it is upon this plain narrative of facts, together with another case i am going to mention, that the christian mythologists, calling themselves the christian church, have erected their fable, which for absurdity and extravagance is not exceeded by anything that is to be found in the mythology of the ancients. the ancient mythologists tell us that the race of giants made war against jupiter, and that one of them threw a hundred rocks against him at one throw; that jupiter defeated him with thunder, and confined him afterwards under mount etna; and that every time the giant turns himself, mount etna belches fire. it is here easy to see that the circumstance of the mountain, that of its being a volcano, suggested the idea of the fable; and that the fable is made to fit and wind itself up with that circumstance. the christian mythologists tell that their satan made war against the almighty, who defeated him, and confined him afterwards, not under a mountain, but in a pit. it is here easy to see that the first fable suggested the idea of the second; for the fable of jupiter and the giants was told many hundred years before that of satan. thus far the ancient and the christian mythologists differ very little from each other. but the latter have contrived to carry the matter much farther. they have contrived to connect the fabulous part of the story of jesus christ with the fable originating from mount etna; and, in order to make all the parts of the story tie together, they have taken to their aid the traditions of the jews; for the christian mythology is made up partly from the ancient mythology, and partly from the jewish traditions. the christian mythologists, after having confined satan in a pit, were obliged to let him out again to bring on the sequel of the fable. he is then introduced into the garden of eden in the shape of a snake, or a serpent, and in that shape he enters into familiar conversation with eve, who is no ways surprised to hear a snake talk; and the issue of this tete-a-tate is, that he persuades her to eat an apple, and the eating of that apple damns all mankind. after giving satan this triumph over the whole creation, one would have supposed that the church mythologists would have been kind enough to send him back again to the pit, or, if they had not done this, that they would have put a mountain upon him, (for they say that their faith can remove a mountain) or have put him under a mountain, as the former mythologists had done, to prevent his getting again among the women, and doing more mischief. but instead of this, they leave him at large, without even obliging him to give his parole. the secret of which is, that they could not do without him; and after being at the trouble of making him, they bribed him to stay. they promised him all the jews, all the turks by anticipation, nine-tenths of the world beside, and mahomet into the bargain. after this, who can doubt the bountifulness of the christian mythology? having thus made an insurrection and a battle in heaven, in which none of the combatants could be either killed or wounded--put satan into the pit--let him out again--given him a triumph over the whole creation--damned all mankind by the eating of an apple, there christian mythologists bring the two ends of their fable together. they represent this virtuous and amiable man, jesus christ, to be at once both god and man, and also the son of god, celestially begotten, on purpose to be sacrificed, because they say that eve in her longing [note: the french work has: "yielding to an unrestrained appetite."--editor.] had eaten an apple. chapter v - examination in detail of the preceding bases. putting aside everything that might excite laughter by its absurdity, or detestation by its profaneness, and confining ourselves merely to an examination of the parts, it is impossible to conceive a story more derogatory to the almighty, more inconsistent with his wisdom, more contradictory to his power, than this story is. in order to make for it a foundation to rise upon, the inventors were under the necessity of giving to the being whom they call satan a power equally as great, if not greater, than they attribute to the almighty. they have not only given him the power of liberating himself from the pit, after what they call his fall, but they have made that power increase afterwards to infinity. before this fall they represent him only as an angel of limited existence, as they represent the rest. after his fall, he becomes, by their account, omnipresent. he exists everywhere, and at the same time. he occupies the whole immensity of space. not content with this deification of satan, they represent him as defeating by stratagem, in the shape of an animal of the creation, all the power and wisdom of the almighty. they represent him as having compelled the almighty to the direct necessity either of surrendering the whole of the creation to the government and sovereignty of this satan, or of capitulating for its redemption by coming down upon earth, and exhibiting himself upon a cross in the shape of a man. had the inventors of this story told it the contrary way, that is, had they represented the almighty as compelling satan to exhibit himself on a cross in the shape of a snake, as a punishment for his new transgression, the story would have been less absurd, less contradictory. but, instead of this they make the transgressor triumph, and the almighty fall. that many good men have believed this strange fable, and lived very good lives under that belief (for credulity is not a crime) is what i have no doubt of. in the first place, they were educated to believe it, and they would have believed anything else in the same manner. there are also many who have been so enthusiastically enraptured by what they conceived to be the infinite love of god to man, in making a sacrifice of himself, that the vehemence of the idea has forbidden and deterred them from examining into the absurdity and profaneness of the story. the more unnatural anything is, the more is it capable of becoming the object of dismal admiration. [note: the french work has "blind and" preceding dismal.--editor.] chapter vi - of the true theology. but if objects for gratitude and admiration are our desire, do they not present themselves every hour to our eyes? do we not see a fair creation prepared to receive us the instant we are born--a world furnished to our hands, that cost us nothing? is it we that light up the sun; that pour down the rain; and fill the earth with abundance? whether we sleep or wake, the vast machinery of the universe still goes on. are these things, and the blessings they indicate in future, nothing to, us? can our gross feelings be excited by no other subjects than tragedy and suicide? or is the gloomy pride of man become so intolerable, that nothing can flatter it but a sacrifice of the creator? i know that this bold investigation will alarm many, but it would be paying too great a compliment to their credulity to forbear it on that account. the times and the subject demand it to be done. the suspicion that the theory of what is called the christian church is fabulous, is becoming very extensive in all countries; and it will be a consolation to men staggering under that suspicion, and doubting what to believe and what to disbelieve, to see the subject freely investigated. i therefore pass on to an examination of the books called the old and the new testament. chapter vii - examination of the old testament. these books, beginning with genesis and ending with revelations, (which, by the bye, is a book of riddles that requires a revelation to explain it) are, we are told, the word of god. it is, therefore, proper for us to know who told us so, that we may know what credit to give to the report. the answer to this question is, that nobody can tell, except that we tell one another so. the case, however, historically appears to be as follows: when the church mythologists established their system, they collected all the writings they could find, and managed them as they pleased. it is a matter altogether of uncertainty to us whether such of the writings as now appear under the name of the old and the new testament, are in the same state in which those collectors say they found them; or whether they added, altered, abridged, or dressed them up. be this as it may, they decided by vote which of the books out of the collection they had made, should be the word of god, and which should not. they rejected several; they voted others to be doubtful, such as the books called the apocrypha; and those books which had a majority of votes, were voted to be the word of god. had they voted otherwise, all the people since calling themselves christians had believed otherwise; for the belief of the one comes from the vote of the other. who the people were that did all this, we know nothing of. they call themselves by the general name of the church; and this is all we know of the matter. as we have no other external evidence or authority for believing these books to be the word of god, than what i have mentioned, which is no evidence or authority at all, i come, in the next place, to examine the internal evidence contained in the books themselves. in the former part of this essay, i have spoken of revelation. i now proceed further with that subject, for the purpose of applying it to the books in question. revelation is a communication of something, which the person, to whom that thing is revealed, did not know before. for if i have done a thing, or seen it done, it needs no revelation to tell me i have done it, or seen it, nor to enable me to tell it, or to write it. revelation, therefore, cannot be applied to anything done upon earth of which man is himself the actor or the witness; and consequently all the historical and anecdotal part of the bible, which is almost the whole of it, is not within the meaning and compass of the word revelation, and, therefore, is not the word of god. when samson ran off with the gate-posts of gaza, if he ever did so, (and whether he did or not is nothing to us,) or when he visited his delilah, or caught his foxes, or did anything else, what has revelation to do with these things? if they were facts, he could tell them himself; or his secretary, if he kept one, could write them, if they were worth either telling or writing; and if they were fictions, revelation could not make them true; and whether true or not, we are neither the better nor the wiser for knowing them. when we contemplate the immensity of that being, who directs and governs the incomprehensible whole, of which the utmost ken of human sight can discover but a part, we ought to feel shame at calling such paltry stories the word of god. as to the account of the creation, with which the book of genesis opens, it has all the appearance of being a tradition which the israelites had among them before they came into egypt; and after their departure from that country, they put it at the head of their history, without telling, as it is most probable that they did not know, how they came by it. the manner in which the account opens, shows it to be traditionary. it begins abruptly. it is nobody that speaks. it is nobody that hears. it is addressed to nobody. it has neither first, second, nor third person. it has every criterion of being a tradition. it has no voucher. moses does not take it upon himself by introducing it with the formality that he uses on other occasions, such as that of saying, "the lords spake unto moses, saying." why it has been called the mosaic account of the creation, i am at a loss to conceive. moses, i believe, was too good a judge of such subjects to put his name to that account. he had been educated among the egyptians, who were a people as well skilled in science, and particularly in astronomy, as any people of their day; and the silence and caution that moses observes, in not authenticating the account, is a good negative evidence that he neither told it nor believed it.--the case is, that every nation of people has been world-makers, and the israelites had as much right to set up the trade of world-making as any of the rest; and as moses was not an israelite, he might not chose to contradict the tradition. the account, however, is harmless; and this is more than can be said for many other parts of the bible. whenever we read the obscene stories, the voluptuous debaucheries, the cruel and torturous executions, the unrelenting vindictiveness, with which more than half the bible [note: it must be borne in mind that by the "bible" paine always means the old testament alone.--editor.] is filled, it would be more consistent that we called it the word of a demon, than the word of god. it is a history of wickedness, that has served to corrupt and brutalize mankind; and, for my own part, i sincerely detest it, as i detest everything that is cruel. we scarcely meet with anything, a few phrases excepted, but what deserves either our abhorrence or our contempt, till we come to the miscellaneous parts of the bible. in the anonymous publications, the psalms, and the book of job, more particularly in the latter, we find a great deal of elevated sentiment reverentially expressed of the power and benignity of the almighty; but they stand on no higher rank than many other compositions on similar subjects, as well before that time as since. the proverbs which are said to be solomon's, though most probably a collection, (because they discover a knowledge of life, which his situation excluded him from knowing) are an instructive table of ethics. they are inferior in keenness to the proverbs of the spaniards, and not more wise and oeconomical than those of the american franklin. all the remaining parts of the bible, generally known by the name of the prophets, are the works of the jewish poets and itinerant preachers, who mixed poetry, anecdote, and devotion together--and those works still retain the air and style of poetry, though in translation. [note: as there are many readers who do not see that a composition is poetry, unless it be in rhyme, it is for their information that i add this note. poetry consists principally in two things--imagery and composition. the composition of poetry differs from that of prose in the manner of mixing long and short syllables together. take a long syllable out of a line of poetry, and put a short one in the room of it, or put a long syllable where a short one should be, and that line will lose its poetical harmony. it will have an effect upon the line like that of misplacing a note in a song. the imagery in those books called the prophets appertains altogether to poetry. it is fictitious, and often extravagant, and not admissible in any other kind of writing than poetry. to show that these writings are composed in poetical numbers, i will take ten syllables, as they stand in the book, and make a line of the same number of syllables, (heroic measure) that shall rhyme with the last word. it will then be seen that the composition of those books is poetical measure. the instance i shall first produce is from isaiah:-- "hear, o ye heavens, and give ear, o earth 't is god himself that calls attention forth. another instance i shall quote is from the mournful jeremiah, to which i shall add two other lines, for the purpose of carrying out the figure, and showing the intention of the poet. "o, that mine head were waters and mine eyes were fountains flowing like the liquid skies; then would i give the mighty flood release and weep a deluge for the human race."--author.] there is not, throughout the whole book called the bible, any word that describes to us what we call a poet, nor any word that describes what we call poetry. the case is, that the word prophet, to which a later times have affixed a new idea, was the bible word for poet, and the word 'propesying' meant the art of making poetry. it also meant the art of playing poetry to a tune upon any instrument of music. we read of prophesying with pipes, tabrets, and horns--of prophesying with harps, with psalteries, with cymbals, and with every other instrument of music then in fashion. were we now to speak of prophesying with a fiddle, or with a pipe and tabor, the expression would have no meaning, or would appear ridiculous, and to some people contemptuous, because we have changed the meaning of the word. we are told of saul being among the prophets, and also that he prophesied; but we are not told what they prophesied, nor what he prophesied. the case is, there was nothing to tell; for these prophets were a company of musicians and poets, and saul joined in the concert, and this was called prophesying. the account given of this affair in the book called samuel, is, that saul met a company of prophets; a whole company of them! coming down with a psaltery, a tabret, a pipe, and a harp, and that they prophesied, and that he prophesied with them. but it appears afterwards, that saul prophesied badly, that is, he performed his part badly; for it is said that an "evil spirit from god [note: as thos; men who call themselves divines and commentators are very fond of puzzling one another, i leave them to contest the meaning of the first part of the phrase, that of an evil spirit of god. i keep to my text. i keep to the meaning of the word prophesy.--author.] came upon saul, and he prophesied." now, were there no other passage in the book called the bible, than this, to demonstrate to us that we have lost the original meaning of the word prophesy, and substituted another meaning in its place, this alone would be sufficient; for it is impossible to use and apply the word prophesy, in the place it is here used and applied, if we give to it the sense which later times have affixed to it. the manner in which it is here used strips it of all religious meaning, and shews that a man might then be a prophet, or he might prophesy, as he may now be a poet or a musician, without any regard to the morality or the immorality of his character. the word was originally a term of science, promiscuously applied to poetry and to music, and not restricted to any subject upon which poetry and music might be exercised. deborah and barak are called prophets, not because they predicted anything, but because they composed the poem or song that bears their name, in celebration of an act already done. david is ranked among the prophets, for he was a musician, and was also reputed to be (though perhaps very erroneously) the author of the psalms. but abraham, isaac, and jacob are not called prophets; it does not appear from any accounts we have, that they could either sing, play music, or make poetry. we are told of the greater and the lesser prophets. they might as well tell us of the greater and the lesser god; for there cannot be degrees in prophesying consistently with its modern sense. but there are degrees in poetry, and there-fore the phrase is reconcilable to the case, when we understand by it the greater and the lesser poets. it is altogether unnecessary, after this, to offer any observations upon what those men, styled prophets, have written. the axe goes at once to the root, by showing that the original meaning of the word has been mistaken, and consequently all the inferences that have been drawn from those books, the devotional respect that has been paid to them, and the laboured commentaries that have been written upon them, under that mistaken meaning, are not worth disputing about.--in many things, however, the writings of the jewish poets deserve a better fate than that of being bound up, as they now are, with the trash that accompanies them, under the abused name of the word of god. if we permit ourselves to conceive right ideas of things, we must necessarily affix the idea, not only of unchangeableness, but of the utter impossibility of any change taking place, by any means or accident whatever, in that which we would honour with the name of the word of god; and therefore the word of god cannot exist in any written or human language. the continually progressive change to which the meaning of words is subject, the want of an universal language which renders translation necessary, the errors to which translations are again subject, the mistakes of copyists and printers, together with the possibility of wilful alteration, are of themselves evidences that human language, whether in speech or in print, cannot be the vehicle of the word of god.--the word of god exists in something else. did the book called the bible excel in purity of ideas and expression all the books now extant in the world, i would not take it for my rule of faith, as being the word of god; because the possibility would nevertheless exist of my being imposed upon. but when i see throughout the greatest part of this book scarcely anything but a history of the grossest vices, and a collection of the most paltry and contemptible tales, i cannot dishonour my creator by calling it by his name. chapter viii - of the new testament. thus much for the bible; i now go on to the book called the new testament. the new testament! that is, the 'new' will, as if there could be two wills of the creator. had it been the object or the intention of jesus christ to establish a new religion, he would undoubtedly have written the system himself, or procured it to be written in his life time. but there is no publication extant authenticated with his name. all the books called the new testament were written after his death. he was a jew by birth and by profession; and he was the son of god in like manner that every other person is; for the creator is the father of all. the first four books, called matthew, mark, luke, and john, do not give a history of the life of jesus christ, but only detached anecdotes of him. it appears from these books, that the whole time of his being a preacher was not more than eighteen months; and it was only during this short time that those men became acquainted with him. they make mention of him at the age of twelve years, sitting, they say, among the jewish doctors, asking and answering them questions. as this was several years before their acquaintance with him began, it is most probable they had this anecdote from his parents. from this time there is no account of him for about sixteen years. where he lived, or how he employed himself during this interval, is not known. most probably he was working at his father's trade, which was that of a carpenter. it does not appear that he had any school education, and the probability is, that he could not write, for his parents were extremely poor, as appears from their not being able to pay for a bed when he was born. [note: one of the few errors traceable to paine's not having a bible at hand while writing part i. there is no indication that the family was poor, but the reverse may in fact be inferred.--editor.] it is somewhat curious that the three persons whose names are the most universally recorded were of very obscure parentage. moses was a foundling; jesus christ was born in a stable; and mahomet was a mule driver. the first and the last of these men were founders of different systems of religion; but jesus christ founded no new system. he called men to the practice of moral virtues, and the belief of one god. the great trait in his character is philanthropy. the manner in which he was apprehended shows that he was not much known, at that time; and it shows also that the meetings he then held with his followers were in secret; and that he had given over or suspended preaching publicly. judas could no otherways betray him than by giving information where he was, and pointing him out to the officers that went to arrest him; and the reason for employing and paying judas to do this could arise only from the causes already mentioned, that of his not being much known, and living concealed. the idea of his concealment, not only agrees very ill with his reputed divinity, but associates with it something of pusillanimity; and his being betrayed, or in other words, his being apprehended, on the information of one of his followers, shows that he did not intend to be apprehended, and consequently that he did not intend to be crucified. the christian mythologists tell us that christ died for the sins of the world, and that he came on purpose to die. would it not then have been the same if he had died of a fever or of the small pox, of old age, or of anything else? the declaratory sentence which, they say, was passed upon adam, in case he ate of the apple, was not, that thou shalt surely be crucified, but, thou shale surely die. the sentence was death, and not the manner of dying. crucifixion, therefore, or any other particular manner of dying, made no part of the sentence that adam was to suffer, and consequently, even upon their own tactic, it could make no part of the sentence that christ was to suffer in the room of adam. a fever would have done as well as a cross, if there was any occasion for either. this sentence of death, which, they tell us, was thus passed upon adam, must either have meant dying naturally, that is, ceasing to live, or have meant what these mythologists call damnation; and consequently, the act of dying on the part of jesus christ, must, according to their system, apply as a prevention to one or other of these two things happening to adam and to us. that it does not prevent our dying is evident, because we all die; and if their accounts of longevity be true, men die faster since the crucifixion than before: and with respect to the second explanation, (including with it the natural death of jesus christ as a substitute for the eternal death or damnation of all mankind,) it is impertinently representing the creator as coming off, or revoking the sentence, by a pun or a quibble upon the word death. that manufacturer of, quibbles, st. paul, if he wrote the books that bear his name, has helped this quibble on by making another quibble upon the word adam. he makes there to be two adams; the one who sins in fact, and suffers by proxy; the other who sins by proxy, and suffers in fact. a religion thus interlarded with quibble, subterfuge, and pun, has a tendency to instruct its professors in the practice of these arts. they acquire the habit without being aware of the cause. if jesus christ was the being which those mythologists tell us he was, and that he came into this world to suffer, which is a word they sometimes use instead of 'to die,' the only real suffering he could have endured would have been 'to live.' his existence here was a state of exilement or transportation from heaven, and the way back to his original country was to die.--in fine, everything in this strange system is the reverse of what it pretends to be. it is the reverse of truth, and i become so tired of examining into its inconsistencies and absurdities, that i hasten to the conclusion of it, in order to proceed to something better. how much, or what parts of the books called the new testament, were written by the persons whose names they bear, is what we can know nothing of, neither are we certain in what language they were originally written. the matters they now contain may be classed under two heads: anecdote, and epistolary correspondence. the four books already mentioned, matthew, mark, luke, and john, are altogether anecdotal. they relate events after they had taken place. they tell what jesus christ did and said, and what others did and said to him; and in several instances they relate the same event differently. revelation is necessarily out of the question with respect to those books; not only because of the disagreement of the writers, but because revelation cannot be applied to the relating of facts by the persons who saw them done, nor to the relating or recording of any discourse or conversation by those who heard it. the book called the acts of the apostles (an anonymous work) belongs also to the anecdotal part. all the other parts of the new testament, except the book of enigmas, called the revelations, are a collection of letters under the name of epistles; and the forgery of letters has been such a common practice in the world, that the probability is at least equal, whether they are genuine or forged. one thing, however, is much less equivocal, which is, that out of the matters contained in those books, together with the assistance of some old stories, the church has set up a system of religion very contradictory to the character of the person whose name it bears. it has set up a religion of pomp and of revenue in pretended imitation of a person whose life was humility and poverty. the invention of a purgatory, and of the releasing of souls therefrom, by prayers, bought of the church with money; the selling of pardons, dispensations, and indulgences, are revenue laws, without bearing that name or carrying that appearance. but the case nevertheless is, that those things derive their origin from the proxysm of the crucifixion, and the theory deduced therefrom, which was, that one person could stand in the place of another, and could perform meritorious services for him. the probability, therefore, is, that the whole theory or doctrine of what is called the redemption (which is said to have been accomplished by the act of one person in the room of another) was originally fabricated on purpose to bring forward and build all those secondary and pecuniary redemptions upon; and that the passages in the books upon which the idea of theory of redemption is built, have been manufactured and fabricated for that purpose. why are we to give this church credit, when she tells us that those books are genuine in every part, any more than we give her credit for everything else she has told us; or for the miracles she says she has performed? that she could fabricate writings is certain, because she could write; and the composition of the writings in question, is of that kind that anybody might do it; and that she did fabricate them is not more inconsistent with probability, than that she should tell us, as she has done, that she could and did work miracles. since, then, no external evidence can, at this long distance of time, be produced to prove whether the church fabricated the doctrine called redemption or not, (for such evidence, whether for or against, would be subject to the same suspicion of being fabricated,) the case can only be referred to the internal evidence which the thing carries of itself; and this affords a very strong presumption of its being a fabrication. for the internal evidence is, that the theory or doctrine of redemption has for its basis an idea of pecuniary justice, and not that of moral justice. if i owe a person money, and cannot pay him, and he threatens to put me in prison, another person can take the debt upon himself, and pay it for me. but if i have committed a crime, every circumstance of the case is changed. moral justice cannot take the innocent for the guilty even if the innocent would offer itself. to suppose justice to do this, is to destroy the principle of its existence, which is the thing itself. it is then no longer justice. it is indiscriminate revenge. this single reflection will show that the doctrine of redemption is founded on a mere pecuniary idea corresponding to that of a debt which another person might pay; and as this pecuniary idea corresponds again with the system of second redemptions, obtained through the means of money given to the church for pardons, the probability is that the same persons fabricated both the one and the other of those theories; and that, in truth, there is no such thing as redemption; that it is fabulous; and that man stands in the same relative condition with his maker he ever did stand, since man existed; and that it is his greatest consolation to think so. let him believe this, and he will live more consistently and morally, than by any other system. it is by his being taught to contemplate himself as an out-law, as an out-cast, as a beggar, as a mumper, as one thrown as it were on a dunghill, at an immense distance from his creator, and who must make his approaches by creeping, and cringing to intermediate beings, that he conceives either a contemptuous disregard for everything under the name of religion, or becomes indifferent, or turns what he calls devout. in the latter case, he consumes his life in grief, or the affectation of it. his prayers are reproaches. his humility is ingratitude. he calls himself a worm, and the fertile earth a dunghill; and all the blessings of life by the thankless name of vanities. he despises the choicest gift of god to man, the gift of reason; and having endeavoured to force upon himself the belief of a system against which reason revolts, he ungratefully calls it human reason, as if man could give reason to himself. yet, with all this strange appearance of humility, and this contempt for human reason, he ventures into the boldest presumptions. he finds fault with everything. his selfishness is never satisfied; his ingratitude is never at an end. he takes on himself to direct the almighty what to do, even in the govemment of the universe. he prays dictatorially. when it is sunshine, he prays for rain, and when it is rain, he prays for sunshine. he follows the same idea in everything that he prays for; for what is the amount of all his prayers, but an attempt to make the almighty change his mind, and act otherwise than he does? it is as if he were to say--thou knowest not so well as i. chapter ix - in what the true revelation consists. but some perhaps will say--are we to have no word of god--no revelation? i answer yes. there is a word of god; there is a revelation. the word of god is the creation we behold: and it is in this word, which no human invention can counterfeit or alter, that god speaketh universally to man. human language is local and changeable, and is therefore incapable of being used as the means of unchangeable and universal information. the idea that god sent jesus christ to publish, as they say, the glad tidings to all nations, from one end of the earth unto the other, is consistent only with the ignorance of those who know nothing of the extent of the world, and who believed, as those world-saviours believed, and continued to believe for several centuries, (and that in contradiction to the discoveries of philosophers and the experience of navigators,) that the earth was flat like a trencher; and that a man might walk to the end of it. but how was jesus christ to make anything known to all nations? he could speak but one language, which was hebrew; and there are in the world several hundred languages. scarcely any two nations speak the same language, or understand each other; and as to translations, every man who knows anything of languages, knows that it is impossible to translate from one language into another, not only without losing a great part of the original, but frequently of mistaking the sense; and besides all this, the art of printing was wholly unknown at the time christ lived. it is always necessary that the means that are to accomplish any end be equal to the accomplishment of that end, or the end cannot be accomplished. it is in this that the difference between finite and infinite power and wisdom discovers itself. man frequently fails in accomplishing his end, from a natural inability of the power to the purpose; and frequently from the want of wisdom to apply power properly. but it is impossible for infinite power and wisdom to fail as man faileth. the means it useth are always equal to the end: but human language, more especially as there is not an universal language, is incapable of being used as an universal means of unchangeable and uniform information; and therefore it is not the means that god useth in manifesting himself universally to man. it is only in the creation that all our ideas and conceptions of a word of god can unite. the creation speaketh an universal language, independently of human speech or human language, multiplied and various as they be. it is an ever existing original, which every man can read. it cannot be forged; it cannot be counterfeited; it cannot be lost; it cannot be altered; it cannot be suppressed. it does not depend upon the will of man whether it shall be published or not; it publishes itself from one end of the earth to the other. it preaches to all nations and to all worlds; and this word of god reveals to man all that is necessary for man to know of god. do we want to contemplate his power? we see it in the immensity of the creation. do we want to contemplate his wisdom? we see it in the unchangeable order by which the incomprehensible whole is governed. do we want to contemplate his munificence? we see it in the abundance with which he fills the earth. do we want to contemplate his mercy? we see it in his not withholding that abundance even from the unthankful. in fine, do we want to know what god is? search not the book called the scripture, which any human hand might make, but the scripture called the creation. chapter x - concerning god, and the lights cast on his existence and attributes by the bible. the only idea man can affix to the name of god, is that of a first cause, the cause of all things. and, incomprehensibly difficult as it is for a man to conceive what a first cause is, he arrives at the belief of it, from the tenfold greater difficulty of disbelieving it. it is difficult beyond description to conceive that space can have no end; but it is more difficult to conceive an end. it is difficult beyond the power of man to conceive an eternal duration of what we call time; but it is more impossible to conceive a time when there shall be no time. in like manner of reasoning, everything we behold carries in itself the internal evidence that it did not make itself. every man is an evidence to himself, that he did not make himself; neither could his father make himself, nor his grandfather, nor any of his race; neither could any tree, plant, or animal make itself; and it is the conviction arising from this evidence, that carries us on, as it were, by necessity, to the belief of a first cause eternally existing, of a nature totally different to any material existence we know of, and by the power of which all things exist; and this first cause, man calls god. it is only by the exercise of reason, that man can discover god. take away that reason, and he would be incapable of understanding anything; and in this case it would be just as consistent to read even the book called the bible to a horse as to a man. how then is it that those people pretend to reject reason? almost the only parts in the book called the bible, that convey to us any idea of god, are some chapters in job, and the th psalm; i recollect no other. those parts are true deistical compositions; for they treat of the deity through his works. they take the book of creation as the word of god; they refer to no other book; and all the inferences they make are drawn from that volume. i insert in this place the th psalm, as paraphrased into english verse by addison. i recollect not the prose, and where i write this i have not the opportunity of seeing it: the spacious firmament on high, with all the blue etherial sky, and spangled heavens, a shining frame, their great original proclaim. the unwearied sun, from day to day, does his creator's power display, and publishes to every land the work of an almighty hand. soon as the evening shades prevail, the moon takes up the wondrous tale, and nightly to the list'ning earth repeats the story of her birth; whilst all the stars that round her burn, and all the planets, in their turn, confirm the tidings as they roll, and spread the truth from pole to pole. what though in solemn silence all move round this dark terrestrial ball what though no real voice, nor sound, amidst their radiant orbs be found, in reason's ear they all rejoice, and utter forth a glorious voice, forever singing as they shine, the hand that made us is divine. what more does man want to know, than that the hand or power that made these things is divine, is omnipotent? let him believe this, with the force it is impossible to repel if he permits his reason to act, and his rule of moral life will follow of course. the allusions in job have all of them the same tendency with this psalm; that of deducing or proving a truth that would be otherwise unknown, from truths already known. i recollect not enough of the passages in job to insert them correctly; but there is one that occurs to me that is applicable to the subject i am speaking upon. "canst thou by searching find out god; canst thou find out the almighty to perfection?" i know not how the printers have pointed this passage, for i keep no bible; but it contains two distinct questions that admit of distinct answers. first, canst thou by searching find out god? yes. because, in the first place, i know i did not make myself, and yet i have existence; and by searching into the nature of other things, i find that no other thing could make itself; and yet millions of other things exist; therefore it is, that i know, by positive conclusion resulting from this search, that there is a power superior to all those things, and that power is god. secondly, canst thou find out the almighty to perfection? no. not only because the power and wisdom he has manifested in the structure of the creation that i behold is to me incomprehensible; but because even this manifestation, great as it is is probably but a small display of that immensity of power and wisdom, by which millions of other worlds, to me invisible by their distance, were created and continue to exist. it is evident that both of these questions were put to the reason of the person to whom they are supposed to have been addressed; and it is only by admitting the first question to be answered affirmatively, that the second could follow. it would have been unnecessary, and even absurd, to have put a second question, more difficult than the first, if the first question had been answered negatively. the two questions have different objects; the first refers to the existence of god, the second to his attributes. reason can discover the one, but it falls infinitely short in discovering the whole of the other. i recollect not a single passage in all the writings ascribed to the men called apostles, that conveys any idea of what god is. those writings are chiefly controversial; and the gloominess of the subject they dwell upon, that of a man dying in agony on a cross, is better suited to the gloomy genius of a monk in a cell, by whom it is not impossible they were written, than to any man breathing the open air of the creation. the only passage that occurs to me, that has any reference to the works of god, by which only his power and wisdom can be known, is related to have been spoken by jesus christ, as a remedy against distrustful care. "behold the lilies of the field, they toil not, neither do they spin." this, however, is far inferior to the allusions in job and in the th psalm; but it is similar in idea, and the modesty of the imagery is correspondent to the modesty of the man. chapter xi - of the theology of the christians; and the true theology. as to the christian system of faith, it appears to me as a species of atheism; a sort of religious denial of god. it professes to believe in a man rather than in god. it is a compound made up chiefly of man-ism with but little deism, and is as near to atheism as twilight is to darkness. it introduces between man and his maker an opaque body, which it calls a redeemer, as the moon introduces her opaque self between the earth and the sun, and it produces by this means a religious or an irreligious eclipse of light. it has put the whole orbit of reason into shade. the effect of this obscurity has been that of turning everything upside down, and representing it in reverse; and among the revolutions it has thus magically produced, it has made a revolution in theology. that which is now called natural philosophy, embracing the whole circle of science, of which astronomy occupies the chief place, is the study of the works of god, and of the power and wisdom of god in his works, and is the true theology. as to the theology that is now studied in its place, it is the study of human opinions and of human fancies concerning god. it is not the study of god himself in the works that he has made, but in the works or writings that man has made; and it is not among the least of the mischiefs that the christian system has done to the world, that it has abandoned the original and beautiful system of theology, like a beautiful innocent, to distress and reproach, to make room for the hag of superstition. the book of job and the th psalm, which even the church admits to be more ancient than the chronological order in which they stand in the book called the bible, are theological orations conformable to the original system of theology. the internal evidence of those orations proves to a demonstration that the study and contemplation of the works of creation, and of the power and wisdom of god revealed and manifested in those works, made a great part of the religious devotion of the times in which they were written; and it was this devotional study and contemplation that led to the discovery of the principles upon which what are now called sciences are established; and it is to the discovery of these principles that almost all the arts that contribute to the convenience of human life owe their existence. every principal art has some science for its parent, though the person who mechanically performs the work does not always, and but very seldom, perceive the connection. it is a fraud of the christian system to call the sciences 'human inventions;' it is only the application of them that is human. every science has for its basis a system of principles as fixed and unalterable as those by which the universe is regulated and governed. man cannot make principles, he can only discover them. for example: every person who looks at an almanack sees an account when an eclipse will take place, and he sees also that it never fails to take place according to the account there given. this shows that man is acquainted with the laws by which the heavenly bodies move. but it would be something worse than ignorance, were any church on earth to say that those laws are an human invention. it would also be ignorance, or something worse, to say that the scientific principles, by the aid of which man is enabled to calculate and foreknow when an eclipse will take place, are an human invention. man cannot invent any thing that is eternal and immutable; and the scientific principles he employs for this purpose must, and are, of necessity, as eternal and immutable as the laws by which the heavenly bodies move, or they could not be used as they are to ascertain the time when, and the manner how, an eclipse will take place. the scientific principles that man employs to obtain the foreknowledge of an eclipse, or of any thing else relating to the motion of the heavenly bodies, are contained chiefly in that part of science that is called trigonometry, or the properties of a triangle, which, when applied to the study of the heavenly bodies, is called astronomy; when applied to direct the course of a ship on the ocean, it is called navigation; when applied to the construction of figures drawn by a rule and compass, it is called geometry; when applied to the construction of plans of edifices, it is called architecture; when applied to the measurement of any portion of the surface of the earth, it is called land-surveying. in fine, it is the soul of science. it is an eternal truth: it contains the mathematical demonstration of which man speaks, and the extent of its uses are unknown. it may be said, that man can make or draw a triangle, and therefore a triangle is an human invention. but the triangle, when drawn, is no other than the image of the principle: it is a delineation to the eye, and from thence to the mind, of a principle that would otherwise be imperceptible. the triangle does not make the principle, any more than a candle taken into a room that was dark, makes the chairs and tables that before were invisible. all the properties of a triangle exist independently of the figure, and existed before any triangle was drawn or thought of by man. man had no more to do in the formation of those properties or principles, than he had to do in making the laws by which the heavenly bodies move; and therefore the one must have the same divine origin as the other. in the same manner as, it may be said, that man can make a triangle, so also, may it be said, he can make the mechanical instrument called a lever. but the principle by which the lever acts, is a thing distinct from the instrument, and would exist if the instrument did not; it attaches itself to the instrument after it is made; the instrument, therefore, can act no otherwise than it does act; neither can all the efforts of human invention make it act otherwise. that which, in all such cases, man calls the effect, is no other than the principle itself rendered perceptible to the senses. since, then, man cannot make principles, from whence did he gain a knowledge of them, so as to be able to apply them, not only to things on earth, but to ascertain the motion of bodies so immensely distant from him as all the heavenly bodies are? from whence, i ask, could he gain that knowledge, but from the study of the true theology? it is the structure of the universe that has taught this knowledge to man. that structure is an ever-existing exhibition of every principle upon which every part of mathematical science is founded. the offspring of this science is mechanics; for mechanics is no other than the principles of science applied practically. the man who proportions the several parts of a mill uses the same scientific principles as if he had the power of constructing an universe, but as he cannot give to matter that invisible agency by which all the component parts of the immense machine of the universe have influence upon each other, and act in motional unison together, without any apparent contact, and to which man has given the name of attraction, gravitation, and repulsion, he supplies the place of that agency by the humble imitation of teeth and cogs. all the parts of man's microcosm must visibly touch. but could he gain a knowledge of that agency, so as to be able to apply it in practice, we might then say that another canonical book of the word of god had been discovered. if man could alter the properties of the lever, so also could he alter the properties of the triangle: for a lever (taking that sort of lever which is called a steel-yard, for the sake of explanation) forms, when in motion, a triangle. the line it descends from, (one point of that line being in the fulcrum,) the line it descends to, and the chord of the arc, which the end of the lever describes in the air, are the three sides of a triangle. the other arm of the lever describes also a triangle; and the corresponding sides of those two triangles, calculated scientifically, or measured geometrically,--and also the sines, tangents, and secants generated from the angles, and geometrically measured,--have the same proportions to each other as the different weights have that will balance each other on the lever, leaving the weight of the lever out of the case. it may also be said, that man can make a wheel and axis; that he can put wheels of different magnitudes together, and produce a mill. still the case comes back to the same point, which is, that he did not make the principle that gives the wheels those powers. this principle is as unalterable as in the former cases, or rather it is the same principle under a different appearance to the eye. the power that two wheels of different magnitudes have upon each other is in the same proportion as if the semi-diameter of the two wheels were joined together and made into that kind of lever i have described, suspended at the part where the semi-diameters join; for the two wheels, scientifically considered, are no other than the two circles generated by the motion of the compound lever. it is from the study of the true theology that all our knowledge of science is derived; and it is from that knowledge that all the arts have originated. the almighty lecturer, by displaying the principles of science in the structure of the universe, has invited man to study and to imitation. it is as if he had said to the inhabitants of this globe that we call ours, "i have made an earth for man to dwell upon, and i have rendered the starry heavens visible, to teach him science and the arts. he can now provide for his own comfort, and learn from my munificence to all, to be kind to each other." of what use is it, unless it be to teach man something, that his eye is endowed with the power of beholding, to an incomprehensible distance, an immensity of worlds revolving in the ocean of space? or of what use is it that this immensity of worlds is visible to man? what has man to do with the pleiades, with orion, with sirius, with the star he calls the north star, with the moving orbs he has named saturn, jupiter, mars, venus, and mercury, if no uses are to follow from their being visible? a less power of vision would have been sufficient for man, if the immensity he now possesses were given only to waste itself, as it were, on an immense desert of space glittering with shows. it is only by contemplating what he calls the starry heavens, as the book and school of science, that he discovers any use in their being visible to him, or any advantage resulting from his immensity of vision. but when he contemplates the subject in this light, he sees an additional motive for saying, that nothing was made in vain; for in vain would be this power of vision if it taught man nothing. chapter xii - the effects of christianism on education; proposed reforms. as the christian system of faith has made a revolution in theology, so also has it made a revolution in the state of learning. that which is now called learning, was not learning originally. learning does not consist, as the schools now make it consist, in the knowledge of languages, but in the knowledge of things to which language gives names. the greeks were a learned people, but learning with them did not consist in speaking greek, any more than in a roman's speaking latin, or a frenchman's speaking french, or an englishman's speaking english. from what we know of the greeks, it does not appear that they knew or studied any language but their own, and this was one cause of their becoming so learned; it afforded them more time to apply themselves to better studies. the schools of the greeks were schools of science and philosophy, and not of languages; and it is in the knowledge of the things that science and philosophy teach that learning consists. almost all the scientific learning that now exists, came to us from the greeks, or the people who spoke the greek language. it therefore became necessary to the people of other nations, who spoke a different language, that some among them should learn the greek language, in order that the learning the greeks had might be made known in those nations, by translating the greek books of science and philosophy into the mother tongue of each nation. the study, therefore, of the greek language (and in the same manner for the latin) was no other than the drudgery business of a linguist; and the language thus obtained, was no other than the means, or as it were the tools, employed to obtain the learning the greeks had. it made no part of the learning itself; and was so distinct from it as to make it exceedingly probable that the persons who had studied greek sufficiently to translate those works, such for instance as euclid's elements, did not understand any of the learning the works contained. as there is now nothing new to be learned from the dead languages, all the useful books being already translated, the languages are become useless, and the time expended in teaching and in learning them is wasted. so far as the study of languages may contribute to the progress and communication of knowledge (for it has nothing to do with the creation of knowledge) it is only in the living languages that new knowledge is to be found; and certain it is, that, in general, a youth will learn more of a living language in one year, than of a dead language in seven; and it is but seldom that the teacher knows much of it himself. the difficulty of learning the dead languages does not arise from any superior abstruseness in the languages themselves, but in their being dead, and the pronunciation entirely lost. it would be the same thing with any other language when it becomes dead. the best greek linguist that now exists does not understand greek so well as a grecian plowman did, or a grecian milkmaid; and the same for the latin, compared with a plowman or a milkmaid of the romans; and with respect to pronunciation and idiom, not so well as the cows that she milked. it would therefore be advantageous to the state of learning to abolish the study of the dead languages, and to make learning consist, as it originally did, in scientific knowledge. the apology that is sometimes made for continuing to teach the dead languages is, that they are taught at a time when a child is not capable of exerting any other mental faculty than that of memory. but this is altogether erroneous. the human mind has a natural disposition to scientific knowledge, and to the things connected with it. the first and favourite amusement of a child, even before it begins to play, is that of imitating the works of man. it builds bouses with cards or sticks; it navigates the little ocean of a bowl of water with a paper boat; or dams the stream of a gutter, and contrives something which it calls a mill; and it interests itself in the fate of its works with a care that resembles affection. it afterwards goes to school, where its genius is killed by the barren study of a dead language, and the philosopher is lost in the linguist. but the apology that is now made for continuing to teach the dead languages, could not be the cause at first of cutting down learning to the narrow and humble sphere of linguistry; the cause therefore must be sought for elsewhere. in all researches of this kind, the best evidence that can be produced, is the internal evidence the thing carries with itself, and the evidence of circumstances that unites with it; both of which, in this case, are not difficult to be discovered. putting then aside, as matter of distinct consideration, the outrage offered to the moral justice of god, by supposing him to make the innocent suffer for the guilty, and also the loose morality and low contrivance of supposing him to change himself into the shape of a man, in order to make an excuse to himself for not executing his supposed sentence upon adam; putting, i say, those things aside as matter of distinct consideration, it is certain that what is called the christian system of faith, including in it the whimsical account of the creation--the strange story of eve, the snake, and the apple--the amphibious idea of a man-god--the corporeal idea of the death of a god--the mythological idea of a family of gods, and the christian system of arithmetic, that three are one, and one is three, are all irreconcilable, not only to the divine gift of reason, that god has given to man, but to the knowledge that man gains of the power and wisdom of god by the aid of the sciences, and by studying the structure of the universe that god has made. the setters up, therefore, and the advocates of the christian system of faith, could not but foresee that the continually progressive knowledge that man would gain by the aid of science, of the power and wisdom of god, manifested in the structure of the universe, and in all the works of creation, would militate against, and call into question, the truth of their system of faith; and therefore it became necessary to their purpose to cut learning down to a size less dangerous to their project, and this they effected by restricting the idea of learning to the dead study of dead languages. they not only rejected the study of science out of the christian schools, but they persecuted it; and it is only within about the last two centuries that the study has been revived. so late as , galileo, a florentine, discovered and introduced the use of telescopes, and by applying them to observe the motions and appearances of the heavenly bodies, afforded additional means for ascertaining the true structure of the universe. instead of being esteemed for these discoveries, he was sentenced to renounce them, or the opinions resulting from them, as a damnable heresy. and prior to that time virgilius was condemned to be burned for asserting the antipodes, or in other words, that the earth was a globe, and habitable in every part where there was land; yet the truth of this is now too well known even to be told. [note: i cannot discover the source of this statement concerning the ancient author whose irish name feirghill was latinized into virgilius. the british museum possesses a copy of the work (decalogiunt) which was the pretext of the charge of heresy made by boniface, archbishop of mayence, against virgilius, abbot--bishop of salzburg, these were leaders of the rival "british" and "roman parties, and the british champion made a countercharge against boniface of irreligious practices." boniface had to express a "regret," but none the less pursued his rival. the pope, zachary ii., decided that if his alleged "doctrine, against god and his soul, that beneath the earth there is another world, other men, or sun and moon," should be acknowledged by virgilius, he should be excommunicated by a council and condemned with canonical sanctions. whatever may have been the fate involved by condemnation with "canonicis sanctionibus," in the middle of the eighth century, it did not fall on virgilius. his accuser, boniface, was martyred, , and it is probable that virgilius harmonied his antipodes with orthodoxy. the gravamen of the heresy seems to have been the suggestion that there were men not of the progeny of adam. virgilius was made bishop of salzburg in . he bore until his death, , the curious title, "geometer and solitary," or "lone wayfarer" (solivagus). a suspicion of heresy clung to his memory until , when he was raised by gregory ix, to sainthood beside his accuser, st. boniface.--editor. (conway)] if the belief of errors not morally bad did no mischief, it would make no part of the moral duty of man to oppose and remove them. there was no moral ill in believing the earth was flat like a trencher, any more than there was moral virtue in believing it was round like a globe; neither was there any moral ill in believing that the creator made no other world than this, any more than there was moral virtue in believing that he made millions, and that the infinity of space is filled with worlds. but when a system of religion is made to grow out of a supposed system of creation that is not true, and to unite itself therewith in a manner almost inseparable therefrom, the case assumes an entirely different ground. it is then that errors, not morally bad, become fraught with the same mischiefs as if they were. it is then that the truth, though otherwise indifferent itself, becomes an essential, by becoming the criterion that either confirms by corresponding evidence, or denies by contradictory evidence, the reality of the religion itself. in this view of the case it is the moral duty of man to obtain every possible evidence that the structure of the heavens, or any other part of creation affords, with respect to systems of religion. but this, the supporters or partizans of the christian system, as if dreading the result, incessantly opposed, and not only rejected the sciences, but persecuted the professors. had newton or descartes lived three or four hundred years ago, and pursued their studies as they did, it is most probable they would not have lived to finish them; and had franklin drawn lightning from the clouds at the same time, it would have been at the hazard of expiring for it in flames. later times have laid all the blame upon the goths and vandals, but, however unwilling the partizans of the christian system may be to believe or to acknowledge it, it is nevertheless true, that the age of ignorance commenced with the christian system. there was more knowledge in the world before that period, than for many centuries afterwards; and as to religious knowledge, the christian system, as already said, was only another species of mythology; and the mythology to which it succeeded, was a corruption of an ancient system of theism. [note by paine: it is impossible for us now to know at what time the heathen mythology began; but it is certain, from the internal evidence that it carries, that it did not begin in the same state or condition in which it ended. all the gods of that mythology, except saturn, were of modern invention. the supposed reign of saturn was prior to that which is called the heathen mythology, and was so far a species of theism that it admitted the belief of only one god. saturn is supposed to have abdicated the govemment in favour of his three sons and one daughter, jupiter, pluto, neptune, and juno; after this, thousands of other gods and demigods were imaginarily created, and the calendar of gods increased as fast as the calendar of saints and the calendar of courts have increased since. all the corruptions that have taken place, in theology and in religion have been produced by admitting of what man calls 'revealed religion.' the mythologists pretended to more revealed religion than the christians do. they had their oracles and their priests, who were supposed to receive and deliver the word of god verbally on almost all occasions. since then all corruptions down from moloch to modern predestinarianism, and the human sacrifices of the heathens to the christian sacrifice of the creator, have been produced by admitting of what is called revealed religion, the most effectual means to prevent all such evils and impositions is, not to admit of any other revelation than that which is manifested in the book of creation., and to contemplate the creation as the only true and real word of god that ever did or ever will exist; and every thing else called the word of god is fable and imposition.--author.] it is owing to this long interregnum of science, and to no other cause, that we have now to look back through a vast chasm of many hundred years to the respectable characters we call the ancients. had the progression of knowledge gone on proportionably with the stock that before existed, that chasm would have been filled up with characters rising superior in knowledge to each other; and those ancients we now so much admire would have appeared respectably in the background of the scene. but the christian system laid all waste; and if we take our stand about the beginning of the sixteenth century, we look back through that long chasm, to the times of the ancients, as over a vast sandy desert, in which not a shrub appears to intercept the vision to the fertile hills beyond. it is an inconsistency scarcely possible to be credited, that any thing should exist, under the name of a religion, that held it to be irreligious to study and contemplate the structure of the universe that god had made. but the fact is too well established to be denied. the event that served more than any other to break the first link in this long chain of despotic ignorance, is that known by the name of the reformation by luther. from that time, though it does not appear to have made any part of the intention of luther, or of those who are called reformers, the sciences began to revive, and liberality, their natural associate, began to appear. this was the only public good the reformation did; for, with respect to religious good, it might as well not have taken place. the mythology still continued the same; and a multiplicity of national popes grew out of the downfall of the pope of christendom. chapter xiii - comparison of christianism with the religious ideas inspired by nature. having thus shewn, from the internal evidence of things, the cause that produced a change in the state of learning, and the motive for substituting the study of the dead languages, in the place of the sciences, i proceed, in addition to the several observations already made in the former part of this work, to compare, or rather to confront, the evidence that the structure of the universe affords, with the christian system of religion. but as i cannot begin this part better than by referring to the ideas that occurred to me at an early part of life, and which i doubt not have occurred in some degree to almost every other person at one time or other, i shall state what those ideas were, and add thereto such other matter as shall arise out of the subject, giving to the whole, by way of preface, a short introduction. my father being of the quaker profession, it was my good fortune to have an exceedingly good moral education, and a tolerable stock of useful learning. though i went to the grammar school, i did not learn latin, not only because i had no inclination to learn languages, but because of the objection the quakers have against the books in which the language is taught. but this did not prevent me from being acquainted with the subjects of all the latin books used in the school. the natural bent of my mind was to science. i had some turn, and i believe some talent for poetry; but this i rather repressed than encouraged, as leading too much into the field of imagination. as soon as i was able, i purchased a pair of globes, and attended the philosophical lectures of martin and ferguson, and became afterwards acquainted with dr. bevis, of the society called the royal society, then living in the temple, and an excellent astronomer. i had no disposition for what was called politics. it presented to my mind no other idea than is contained in the word jockeyship. when, therefore, i turned my thoughts towards matters of government, i had to form a system for myself, that accorded with the moral and philosophic principles in which i had been educated. i saw, or at least i thought i saw, a vast scene opening itself to the world in the affairs of america; and it appeared to me, that unless the americans changed the plan they were then pursuing, with respect to the government of england, and declared themselves independent, they would not only involve themselves in a multiplicity of new difficulties, but shut out the prospect that was then offering itself to mankind through their means. it was from these motives that i published the work known by the name of common sense, which is the first work i ever did publish, and so far as i can judge of myself, i believe i should never have been known in the world as an author on any subject whatever, had it not been for the affairs of america. i wrote common sense the latter end of the year , and published it the first of january, . independence was declared the fourth of july following. [note: the pamphlet common sense was first advertised, as "just published," on january , . his plea for the officers of excise, written before leaving england, was printed, but not published until . despite his reiterated assertion that common sense was the first work he ever published the notion that he was "junius" still finds some believers. an indirect comment on our paine-junians may be found in part of this work where paine says a man capable of writing homer "would not have thrown away his own fame by giving it to another." it is probable that paine ascribed the letters of junius to thomas hollis. his friend f. lanthenas, in his translation of the age of reason ( ) advertises his translation of the letters of junius from the english "(thomas hollis)." this he could hardly have done without consultation with paine. unfortunately this translation of junius cannot be found either in the bibliotheque nationale or the british museum, and it cannot be said whether it contains any attempt at an identification of junius--editor.] any person, who has made observations on the state and progress of the human mind, by observing his own, can not but have observed, that there are two distinct classes of what are called thoughts; those that we produce in ourselves by reflection and the act of thinking, and those that bolt into the mind of their own accord. i have always made it a rule to treat those voluntary visitors with civility, taking care to examine, as well as i was able, if they were worth entertaining; and it is from them i have acquired almost all the knowledge that i have. as to the learning that any person gains from school education, it serves only, like a small capital, to put him in the way of beginning learning for himself afterwards. every person of learning is finally his own teacher; the reason of which is, that principles, being of a distinct quality to circumstances, cannot be impressed upon the memory; their place of mental residence is the understanding, and they are never so lasting as when they begin by conception. thus much for the introductory part. from the time i was capable of conceiving an idea, and acting upon it by reflection, i either doubted the truth of the christian system, or thought it to be a strange affair; i scarcely knew which it was: but i well remember, when about seven or eight years of age, hearing a sermon read by a relation of mine, who was a great devotee of the church, upon the subject of what is called redemption by the death of the son of god. after the sermon was ended, i went into the garden, and as i was going down the garden steps (for i perfectly recollect the spot) i revolted at the recollection of what i had heard, and thought to myself that it was making god almighty act like a passionate man, that killed his son, when he could not revenge himself any other way; and as i was sure a man would be hanged that did such a thing, i could not see for what purpose they preached such sermons. this was not one of those kind of thoughts that had any thing in it of childish levity; it was to me a serious reflection, arising from the idea i had that god was too good to do such an action, and also too almighty to be under any necessity of doing it. i believe in the same manner to this moment; and i moreover believe, that any system of religion that has anything in it that shocks the mind of a child, cannot be a true system. it seems as if parents of the christian profession were ashamed to tell their children any thing about the principles of their religion. they sometimes instruct them in morals, and talk to them of the goodness of what they call providence; for the christian mythology has five deities: there is god the father, god the son, god the holy ghost, the god providence, and the goddess nature. but the christian story of god the father putting his son to death, or employing people to do it, (for that is the plain language of the story,) cannot be told by a parent to a child; and to tell him that it was done to make mankind happier and better, is making the story still worse; as if mankind could be improved by the example of murder; and to tell him that all this is a mystery, is only making an excuse for the incredibility of it. how different is this to the pure and simple profession of deism! the true deist has but one deity; and his religion consists in contemplating the power, wisdom, and benignity of the deity in his works, and in endeavouring to imitate him in every thing moral, scientifical, and mechanical. the religion that approaches the nearest of all others to true deism, in the moral and benign part thereof, is that professed by the quakers: but they have contracted themselves too much by leaving the works of god out of their system. though i reverence their philanthropy, i can not help smiling at the conceit, that if the taste of a quaker could have been consulted at the creation, what a silent and drab-colored creation it would have been! not a flower would have blossomed its gaieties, nor a bird been permitted to sing. quitting these reflections, i proceed to other matters. after i had made myself master of the use of the globes, and of the orrery, [note by paine: as this book may fall into the bands of persons who do not know what an orrery is, it is for their information i add this note, as the name gives no idea of the uses of the thing. the orrery has its name from the person who invented it. it is a machinery of clock-work, representing the universe in miniature: and in which the revolution of the earth round itself and round the sun, the revolution of the moon round the earth, the revolution of the planets round the sun, their relative distances from the sun, as the center of the whole system, their relative distances from each other, and their different magnitudes, are represented as they really exist in what we call the heavens.--author.] and conceived an idea of the infinity of space, and of the eternal divisibility of matter, and obtained, at least, a general knowledge of what was called natural philosophy, i began to compare, or, as i have before said, to confront, the internal evidence those things afford with the christian system of faith. though it is not a direct article of the christian system that this world that we inhabit is the whole of the habitable creation, yet it is so worked up therewith, from what is called the mosaic account of the creation, the story of eve and the apple, and the counterpart of that story, the death of the son of god, that to believe otherwise, that is, to believe that god created a plurality of worlds, at least as numerous as what we call stars, renders the christian system of faith at once little and ridiculous; and scatters it in the mind like feathers in the air. the two beliefs can not be held together in the same mind; and he who thinks that he believes both, has thought but little of either. though the belief of a plurality of worlds was familiar to the ancients, it is only within the last three centuries that the extent and dimensions of this globe that we inhabit have been ascertained. several vessels, following the tract of the ocean, have sailed entirely round the world, as a man may march in a circle, and come round by the contrary side of the circle to the spot he set out from. the circular dimensions of our world, in the widest part, as a man would measure the widest round of an apple, or a ball, is only twenty-five thousand and twenty english miles, reckoning sixty-nine miles and an half to an equatorial degree, and may be sailed round in the space of about three years. [note by paine: allowing a ship to sail, on an average, three miles in an hour, she would sail entirely round the world in less than one year, if she could sail in a direct circle, but she is obliged to follow the course of the ocean.--author.] a world of this extent may, at first thought, appear to us to be great; but if we compare it with the immensity of space in which it is suspended, like a bubble or a balloon in the air, it is infinitely less in proportion than the smallest grain of sand is to the size of the world, or the finest particle of dew to the whole ocean, and is therefore but small; and, as will be hereafter shown, is only one of a system of worlds, of which the universal creation is composed. it is not difficult to gain some faint idea of the immensity of space in which this and all the other worlds are suspended, if we follow a progression of ideas. when we think of the size or dimensions of, a room, our ideas limit themselves to the walls, and there they stop. but when our eye, or our imagination darts into space, that is, when it looks upward into what we call the open air, we cannot conceive any walls or boundaries it can have; and if for the sake of resting our ideas we suppose a boundary, the question immediately renews itself, and asks, what is beyond that boundary? and in the same manner, what beyond the next boundary? and so on till the fatigued imagination returns and says, there is no end. certainly, then, the creator was not pent for room when he made this world no larger than it is; and we have to seek the reason in something else. if we take a survey of our own world, or rather of this, of which the creator has given us the use as our portion in the immense system of creation, we find every part of it, the earth, the waters, and the air that surround it, filled, and as it were crowded with life, down from the largest animals that we know of to the smallest insects the naked eye can behold, and from thence to others still smaller, and totally invisible without the assistance of the microscope. every tree, every plant, every leaf, serves not only as an habitation, but as a world to some numerous race, till animal existence becomes so exceedingly refined, that the effluvia of a blade of grass would be food for thousands. since then no part of our earth is left unoccupied, why is it to be supposed that the immensity of space is a naked void, lying in eternal waste? there is room for millions of worlds as large or larger than ours, and each of them millions of miles apart from each other. having now arrived at this point, if we carry our ideas only one thought further, we shall see, perhaps, the true reason, at least a very good reason for our happiness, why the creator, instead of making one immense world, extending over an immense quantity of space, has preferred dividing that quantity of matter into several distinct and separate worlds, which we call planets, of which our earth is one. but before i explain my ideas upon this subject, it is necessary (not for the sake of those that already know, but for those who do not) to show what the system of the universe is. chapter xiv - system of the universe. that part of the universe that is called the solar system (meaning the system of worlds to which our earth belongs, and of which sol, or in english language, the sun, is the center) consists, besides the sun, of six distinct orbs, or planets, or worlds, besides the secondary bodies, called the satellites, or moons, of which our earth has one that attends her in her annual revolution round the sun, in like manner as the other satellites or moons, attend the planets or worlds to which they severally belong, as may be seen by the assistance of the telescope. the sun is the center round which those six worlds or planets revolve at different distances therefrom, and in circles concentric to each other. each world keeps constantly in nearly the same tract round the sun, and continues at the same time turning round itself, in nearly an upright position, as a top turns round itself when it is spinning on the ground, and leans a little sideways. it is this leaning of the earth ( / degrees) that occasions summer and winter, and the different length of days and nights. if the earth turned round itself in a position perpendicular to the plane or level of the circle it moves in round the sun, as a top turns round when it stands erect on the ground, the days and nights would be always of the same length, twelve hours day and twelve hours night, and the season would be uniformly the same throughout the year. every time that a planet (our earth for example) turns round itself, it makes what we call day and night; and every time it goes entirely round the sun, it makes what we call a year, consequently our world turns three hundred and sixty-five times round itself, in going once round the sun. the names that the ancients gave to those six worlds, and which are still called by the same names, are mercury, venus, this world that we call ours, mars, jupiter, and saturn. they appear larger to the eye than the stars, being many million miles nearer to our earth than any of the stars are. the planet venus is that which is called the evening star, and sometimes the morning star, as she happens to set after, or rise before the sun, which in either case is never more than three hours. the sun as before said being the center, the planet or world nearest the sun is mercury; his distance from the sun is thirty-four million miles, and he moves round in a circle always at that distance from the sun, as a top may be supposed to spin round in the tract in which a horse goes in a mill. the second world is venus; she is fifty-seven million miles distant from the sun, and consequently moves round in a circle much greater than that of mercury. the third world is this that we inhabit, and which is eighty-eight million miles distant from the sun, and consequently moves round in a circle greater than that of venus. the fourth world is mars; he is distant from the sun one hundred and thirty-four million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle greater than that of our earth. the fifth is jupiter; he is distant from the sun five hundred and fifty-seven million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle greater than that of mars. the sixth world is saturn; he is distant from the sun seven hundred and sixty-three million miles, and consequently moves round in a circle that surrounds the circles or orbits of all the other worlds or planets. the space, therefore, in the air, or in the immensity of space, that our solar system takes up for the several worlds to perform their revolutions in round the sun, is of the extent in a strait line of the whole diameter of the orbit or circle in which saturn moves round the sun, which being double his distance from the sun, is fifteen hundred and twenty-six million miles; and its circular extent is nearly five thousand million; and its globical content is almost three thousand five hundred million times three thousand five hundred million square miles. [note by paine: if it should be asked, how can man know these things? i have one plain answer to give, which is, that man knows how to calculate an eclipse, and also how to calculate to a minute of time when the planet venus, in making her revolutions round the sun, will come in a strait line between our earth and the sun, and will appear to us about the size of a large pea passing across the face of the sun. this happens but twice in about a hundred years, at the distance of about eight years from each other, and has happened twice in our time, both of which were foreknown by calculation. it can also be known when they will happen again for a thousand years to come, or to any other portion of time. as therefore, man could not be able to do these things if he did not understand the solar system, and the manner in which the revolutions of the several planets or worlds are performed, the fact of calculating an eclipse, or a transit of venus, is a proof in point that the knowledge exists; and as to a few thousand, or even a few million miles, more or less, it makes scarcely any sensible difference in such immense distances.--author.] but this, immense as it is, is only one system of worlds. beyond this, at a vast distance into space, far beyond all power of calculation, are the stars called the fixed stars. they are called fixed, because they have no revolutionary motion, as the six worlds or planets have that i have been describing. those fixed stars continue always at the same distance from each other, and always in the same place, as the sun does in the center of our system. the probability, therefore, is that each of those fixed stars is also a sun, round which another system of worlds or planets, though too remote for us to discover, performs its revolutions, as our system of worlds does round our central sun. by this easy progression of ideas, the immensity of space will appear to us to be filled with systems of worlds; and that no part of space lies at waste, any more than any part of our globe of earth and water is left unoccupied. having thus endeavoured to convey, in a familiar and easy manner, some idea of the structure of the universe, i return to explain what i before alluded to, namely, the great benefits arising to man in consequence of the creator having made a plurality of worlds, such as our system is, consisting of a central sun and six worlds, besides satellites, in preference to that of creating one world only of a vast extent. chapter xv - advantages of the existence of many worlds in each solar system. it is an idea i have never lost sight of, that all our knowledge of science is derived from the revolutions (exhibited to our eye and from thence to our understanding) which those several planets or worlds of which our system is composed make in their circuit round the sun. had then the quantity of matter which these six worlds contain been blended into one solitary globe, the consequence to us would have been, that either no revolutionary motion would have existed, or not a sufficiency of it to give us the ideas and the knowledge of science we now have; and it is from the sciences that all the mechanical arts that contribute so much to our earthly felicity and comfort are derived. as therefore the creator made nothing in vain, so also must it be believed that he organized the structure of the universe in the most advantageous manner for the benefit of man; and as we see, and from experience feel, the benefits we derive from the structure of the universe, formed as it is, which benefits we should not have had the opportunity of enjoying if the structure, so far as relates to our system, had been a solitary globe, we can discover at least one reason why a plurality of worlds has been made, and that reason calls forth the devotional gratitude of man, as well as his admiration. but it is not to us, the inhabitants of this globe, only, that the benefits arising from a plurality of worlds are limited. the inhabitants of each of the worlds of which our system is composed, enjoy the same opportunities of knowledge as we do. they behold the revolutionary motions of our earth, as we behold theirs. all the planets revolve in sight of each other; and, therefore, the same universal school of science presents itself to all. neither does the knowledge stop here. the system of worlds next to us exhibits, in its revolutions, the same principles and school of science, to the inhabitants of their system, as our system does to us, and in like manner throughout the immensity of space. our ideas, not only of the almightiness of the creator, but of his wisdom and his beneficence, become enlarged in proportion as we contemplate the extent and the structure of the universe. the solitary idea of a solitary world, rolling or at rest in the immense ocean of space, gives place to the cheerful idea of a society of worlds, so happily contrived as to administer, even by their motion, instruction to man. we see our own earth filled with abundance; but we forget to consider how much of that abundance is owing to the scientific knowledge the vast machinery of the universe has unfolded. chapter xvi - application of the preceding to the system of the christians. but, in the midst of those reflections, what are we to think of the christian system of faith that forms itself upon the idea of only one world, and that of no greater extent, as is before shown, than twenty-five thousand miles. an extent which a man, walking at the rate of three miles an hour for twelve hours in the day, could he keep on in a circular direction, would walk entirely round in less than two years. alas! what is this to the mighty ocean of space, and the almighty power of the creator! from whence then could arise the solitary and strange conceit that the almighty, who had millions of worlds equally dependent on his protection, should quit the care of all the rest, and come to die in our world, because, they say, one man and one woman had eaten an apple! and, on the other hand, are we to suppose that every world in the boundless creation had an eve, an apple, a serpent, and a redeemer? in this case, the person who is irreverently called the son of god, and sometimes god himself, would have nothing else to do than to travel from world to world, in an endless succession of death, with scarcely a momentary interval of life. it has been by rejecting the evidence, that the word, or works of god in the creation, affords to our senses, and the action of our reason upon that evidence, that so many wild and whimsical systems of faith, and of religion, have been fabricated and set up. there may be many systems of religion that so far from being morally bad are in many respects morally good: but there can be but one that is true; and that one necessarily must, as it ever will, be in all things consistent with the ever existing word of god that we behold in his works. but such is the strange construction of the christian system of faith, that every evidence the heavens affords to man, either directly contradicts it or renders it absurd. it is possible to believe, and i always feel pleasure in encouraging myself to believe it, that there have been men in the world who persuaded themselves that what is called a pious fraud, might, at least under particular circumstances, be productive of some good. but the fraud being once established, could not afterwards be explained; for it is with a pious fraud as with a bad action, it begets a calamitous necessity of going on. the persons who first preached the christian system of faith, and in some measure combined with it the morality preached by jesus christ, might persuade themselves that it was better than the heathen mythology that then prevailed. from the first preachers the fraud went on to the second, and to the third, till the idea of its being a pious fraud became lost in the belief of its being true; and that belief became again encouraged by the interest of those who made a livelihood by preaching it. but though such a belief might, by such means, be rendered almost general among the laity, it is next to impossible to account for the continual persecution carried on by the church, for several hundred years, against the sciences, and against the professors of science, if the church had not some record or tradition that it was originally no other than a pious fraud, or did not foresee that it could not be maintained against the evidence that the structure of the universe afforded. chapter xvii - of the means employed in all time, and almost universally, to deceive the peoples. having thus shown the irreconcileable inconsistencies between the real word of god existing in the universe, and that which is called the word of god, as shown to us in a printed book that any man might make, i proceed to speak of the three principal means that have been employed in all ages, and perhaps in all countries, to impose upon mankind. those three means are mystery, miracle, and prophecy, the first two are incompatible with true religion, and the third ought always to be suspected. with respect to mystery, everything we behold is, in one sense, a mystery to us. our own existence is a mystery: the whole vegetable world is a mystery. we cannot account how it is that an acorn, when put into the ground, is made to develop itself and become an oak. we know not how it is that the seed we sow unfolds and multiplies itself, and returns to us such an abundant interest for so small a capital. the fact however, as distinct from the operating cause, is not a mystery, because we see it; and we know also the means we are to use, which is no other than putting the seed in the ground. we know, therefore, as much as is necessary for us to know; and that part of the operation that we do not know, and which if we did, we could not perform, the creator takes upon himself and performs it for us. we are, therefore, better off than if we had been let into the secret, and left to do it for ourselves. but though every created thing is, in this sense, a mystery, the word mystery cannot be applied to moral truth, any more than obscurity can be applied to light. the god in whom we believe is a god of moral truth, and not a god of mystery or obscurity. mystery is the antagonist of truth. it is a fog of human invention that obscures truth, and represents it in distortion. truth never envelops itself in mystery; and the mystery in which it is at any time enveloped, is the work of its antagonist, and never of itself. religion, therefore, being the belief of a god, and the practice of moral truth, cannot have connection with mystery. the belief of a god, so far from having any thing of mystery in it, is of all beliefs the most easy, because it arises to us, as is before observed, out of necessity. and the practice of moral truth, or, in other words, a practical imitation of the moral goodness of god, is no other than our acting towards each other as he acts benignly towards all. we cannot serve god in the manner we serve those who cannot do without such service; and, therefore, the only idea we can have of serving god, is that of contributing to the happiness of the living creation that god has made. this cannot be done by retiring ourselves from the society of the world, and spending a recluse life in selfish devotion. the very nature and design of religion, if i may so express it, prove even to demonstration that it must be free from every thing of mystery, and unincumbered with every thing that is mysterious. religion, considered as a duty, is incumbent upon every living soul alike, and, therefore, must be on a level to the understanding and comprehension of all. man does not learn religion as he learns the secrets and mysteries of a trade. he learns the theory of religion by reflection. it arises out of the action of his own mind upon the things which he sees, or upon what he may happen to hear or to read, and the practice joins itself thereto. when men, whether from policy or pious fraud, set up systems of religion incompatible with the word or works of god in the creation, and not only above but repugnant to human comprehension, they were under the necessity of inventing or adopting a word that should serve as a bar to all questions, inquiries and speculations. the word mystery answered this purpose, and thus it has happened that religion, which is in itself without mystery, has been corrupted into a fog of mysteries. as mystery answered all general purposes, miracle followed as an occasional auxiliary. the former served to bewilder the mind, the latter to puzzle the senses. the one was the lingo, the other the legerdemain. but before going further into this subject, it will be proper to inquire what is to be understood by a miracle. in the same sense that every thing may be said to be a mystery, so also may it be said that every thing is a miracle, and that no one thing is a greater miracle than another. the elephant, though larger, is not a greater miracle than a mite: nor a mountain a greater miracle than an atom. to an almighty power it is no more difficult to make the one than the other, and no more difficult to make a million of worlds than to make one. every thing, therefore, is a miracle, in one sense; whilst, in the other sense, there is no such thing as a miracle. it is a miracle when compared to our power, and to our comprehension. it is not a miracle compared to the power that performs it. but as nothing in this description conveys the idea that is affixed to the word miracle, it is necessary to carry the inquiry further. mankind have conceived to themselves certain laws, by which what they call nature is supposed to act; and that a miracle is something contrary to the operation and effect of those laws. but unless we know the whole extent of those laws, and of what are commonly called the powers of nature, we are not able to judge whether any thing that may appear to us wonderful or miraculous, be within, or be beyond, or be contrary to, her natural power of acting. the ascension of a man several miles high into the air, would have everything in it that constitutes the idea of a miracle, if it were not known that a species of air can be generated several times lighter than the common atmospheric air, and yet possess elasticity enough to prevent the balloon, in which that light air is inclosed, from being compressed into as many times less bulk, by the common air that surrounds it. in like manner, extracting flashes or sparks of fire from the human body, as visibly as from a steel struck with a flint, and causing iron or steel to move without any visible agent, would also give the idea of a miracle, if we were not acquainted with electricity and magnetism; so also would many other experiments in natural philosophy, to those who are not acquainted with the subject. the restoring persons to life who are to appearance dead as is practised upon drowned persons, would also be a miracle, if it were not known that animation is capable of being suspended without being extinct. besides these, there are performances by slight of hand, and by persons acting in concert, that have a miraculous appearance, which, when known, are thought nothing of. and, besides these, there are mechanical and optical deceptions. there is now an exhibition in paris of ghosts or spectres, which, though it is not imposed upon the spectators as a fact, has an astonishing appearance. as, therefore, we know not the extent to which either nature or art can go, there is no criterion to determine what a miracle is; and mankind, in giving credit to appearances, under the idea of their being miracles, are subject to be continually imposed upon. since then appearances are so capable of deceiving, and things not real have a strong resemblance to things that are, nothing can be more inconsistent than to suppose that the almighty would make use of means, such as are called miracles, that would subject the person who performed them to the suspicion of being an impostor, and the person who related them to be suspected of lying, and the doctrine intended to be supported thereby to be suspected as a fabulous invention. of all the modes of evidence that ever were invented to obtain belief to any system or opinion to which the name of religion has been given, that of miracle, however successful the imposition may have been, is the most inconsistent. for, in the first place, whenever recourse is had to show, for the purpose of procuring that belief (for a miracle, under any idea of the word, is a show) it implies a lameness or weakness in the doctrine that is preached. and, in the second place, it is degrading the almighty into the character of a show-man, playing tricks to amuse and make the people stare and wonder. it is also the most equivocal sort of evidence that can be set up; for the belief is not to depend upon the thing called a miracle, but upon the credit of the reporter, who says that he saw it; and, therefore, the thing, were it true, would have no better chance of being believed than if it were a lie. suppose i were to say, that when i sat down to write this book, a hand presented itself in the air, took up the pen and wrote every word that is herein written; would any body believe me? certainly they would not. would they believe me a whit the more if the thing had been a fact? certainly they would not. since then a real miracle, were it to happen, would be subject to the same fate as the falsehood, the inconsistency becomes the greater of supposing the almighty would make use of means that would not answer the purpose for which they were intended, even if they were real. if we are to suppose a miracle to be something so entirely out of the course of what is called nature, that she must go out of that course to accomplish it, and we see an account given of such a miracle by the person who said he saw it, it raises a question in the mind very easily decided, which is,--is it more probable that nature should go out of her course, or that a man should tell a lie? we have never seen, in our time, nature go out of her course; but we have good reason to believe that millions of lies have been told in the same time; it is, therefore, at least millions to one, that the reporter of a miracle tells a lie. the story of the whale swallowing jonah, though a whale is large enough to do it, borders greatly on the marvellous; but it would have approached nearer to the idea of a miracle, if jonah had swallowed the whale. in this, which may serve for all cases of miracles, the matter would decide itself as before stated, namely, is it more probable that a man should have, swallowed a whale, or told a lie? but suppose that jonah had really swallowed the whale, and gone with it in his belly to nineveh, and to convince the people that it was true have cast it up in their sight, of the full length and size of a whale, would they not have believed him to have been the devil instead of a prophet? or if the whale had carried jonah to nineveh, and cast him up in the same public manner, would they not have believed the whale to have been the devil, and jonah one of his imps? the most extraordinary of all the things called miracles, related in the new testament, is that of the devil flying away with jesus christ, and carrying him to the top of a high mountain; and to the top of the highest pinnacle of the temple, and showing him and promising to him all the kingdoms of the world. how happened it that he did not discover america? or is it only with kingdoms that his sooty highness has any interest. i have too much respect for the moral character of christ to believe that he told this whale of a miracle himself: neither is it easy to account for what purpose it could have been fabricated, unless it were to impose upon the connoisseurs of miracles, as is sometimes practised upon the connoisseurs of queen anne's farthings, and collectors of relics and antiquities; or to render the belief of miracles ridiculous, by outdoing miracle, as don quixote outdid chivalry; or to embarrass the belief of miracles, by making it doubtful by what power, whether of god or of the devil, any thing called a miracle was performed. it requires, however, a great deal of faith in the devil to believe this miracle. in every point of view in which those things called miracles can be placed and considered, the reality of them is improbable, and their existence unnecessary. they would not, as before observed, answer any useful purpose, even if they were true; for it is more difficult to obtain belief to a miracle, than to a principle evidently moral, without any miracle. moral principle speaks universally for itself. miracle could be but a thing of the moment, and seen but by a few; after this it requires a transfer of faith from god to man to believe a miracle upon man's report. instead, therefore, of admitting the recitals of miracles as evidence of any system of religion being true, they ought to be considered as symptoms of its being fabulous. it is necessary to the full and upright character of truth that it rejects the crutch; and it is consistent with the character of fable to seek the aid that truth rejects. thus much for mystery and miracle. as mystery and miracle took charge of the past and the present, prophecy took charge of the future, and rounded the tenses of faith. it was not sufficient to know what had been done, but what would be done. the supposed prophet was the supposed historian of times to come; and if he happened, in shooting with a long bow of a thousand years, to strike within a thousand miles of a mark, the ingenuity of posterity could make it point-blank; and if he happened to be directly wrong, it was only to suppose, as in the case of jonah and nineveh, that god had repented himself and changed his mind. what a fool do fabulous systems make of man! it has been shewn, in a former part of this work, that the original meaning of the words prophet and prophesying has been changed, and that a prophet, in the sense of the word as now used, is a creature of modern invention; and it is owing to this change in the meaning of the words, that the flights and metaphors of the jewish poets, and phrases and expressions now rendered obscure by our not being acquainted with the local circumstances to which they applied at the time they were used, have been erected into prophecies, and made to bend to explanations at the will and whimsical conceits of sectaries, expounders, and commentators. every thing unintelligible was prophetical, and every thing insignificant was typical. a blunder would have served for a prophecy; and a dish-clout for a type. if by a prophet we are to suppose a man to whom the almighty communicated some event that would take place in future, either there were such men, or there were not. if there were, it is consistent to believe that the event so communicated would be told in terms that could be understood, and not related in such a loose and obscure manner as to be out of the comprehension of those that heard it, and so equivocal as to fit almost any circumstance that might happen afterwards. it is conceiving very irreverently of the almighty, to suppose he would deal in this jesting manner with mankind; yet all the things called prophecies in the book called the bible come under this description. but it is with prophecy as it is with miracle. it could not answer the purpose even if it were real. those to whom a prophecy should be told could not tell whether the man prophesied or lied, or whether it had been revealed to him, or whether he conceited it; and if the thing that he prophesied, or pretended to prophesy, should happen, or some thing like it, among the multitude of things that are daily happening, nobody could again know whether he foreknew it, or guessed at it, or whether it was accidental. a prophet, therefore, is a character useless and unnecessary; and the safe side of the case is to guard against being imposed upon, by not giving credit to such relations. upon the whole, mystery, miracle, and prophecy, are appendages that belong to fabulous and not to true religion. they are the means by which so many lo heres! and lo theres! have been spread about the world, and religion been made into a trade. the success of one impostor gave encouragement to another, and the quieting salvo of doing some good by keeping up a pious fraud protected them from remorse. recapitulation. having now extended the subject to a greater length than i first intended, i shall bring it to a close by abstracting a summary from the whole. first, that the idea or belief of a word of god existing in print, or in writing, or in speech, is inconsistent in itself for the reasons already assigned. these reasons, among many others, are the want of an universal language; the mutability of language; the errors to which translations are subject, the possibility of totally suppressing such a word; the probability of altering it, or of fabricating the whole, and imposing it upon the world. secondly, that the creation we behold is the real and ever existing word of god, in which we cannot be deceived. it proclaimeth his power, it demonstrates his wisdom, it manifests his goodness and beneficence. thirdly, that the moral duty of man consists in imitating the moral goodness and beneficence of god manifested in the creation towards all his creatures. that seeing as we daily do the goodness of god to all men, it is an example calling upon all men to practise the same towards each other; and, consequently, that every thing of persecution and revenge between man and man, and every thing of cruelty to animals, is a violation of moral duty. i trouble not myself about the manner of future existence. i content myself with believing, even to positive conviction, that the power that gave me existence is able to continue it, in any form and manner he pleases, either with or without this body; and it appears more probable to me that i shall continue to exist hereafter than that i should have had existence, as i now have, before that existence began. it is certain that, in one point, all nations of the earth and all religions agree. all believe in a god. the things in which they disgrace are the redundancies annexed to that belief; and therefore, if ever an universal religion should prevail, it will not be believing any thing new, but in getting rid of redundancies, and believing as man believed at first. ["in the childhood of the world," according to the first (french) version; and the strict translation of the final sentence is: "deism was the religion of adam, supposing him not an imaginary being; but none the less must it be left to all men to follow, as is their right, the religion and worship they prefer."--editor.] adam, if ever there was such a man, was created a deist; but in the mean time, let every man follow, as he has a right to do, the religion and worship he prefers. end of part i the age of reason - part ii contents * preface * chapter i - the old testament * chapter ii - the new testament * chapter iii - conclusion preface i have mentioned in the former part of the age of reason that it had long been my intention to publish my thoughts upon religion; but that i had originally reserved it to a later period in life, intending it to be the last work i should undertake. the circumstances, however, which existed in france in the latter end of the year , determined me to delay it no longer. the just and humane principles of the revolution which philosophy had first diffused, had been departed from. the idea, always dangerous to society as it is derogatory to the almighty,--that priests could forgive sins,--though it seemed to exist no longer, had blunted the feelings of humanity, and callously prepared men for the commission of all crimes. the intolerant spirit of church persecution had transferred itself into politics; the tribunals, stiled revolutionary, supplied the place of an inquisition; and the guillotine of the stake. i saw many of my most intimate friends destroyed; others daily carried to prison; and i had reason to believe, and had also intimations given me, that the same danger was approaching myself. under these disadvantages, i began the former part of the age of reason; i had, besides, neither bible nor testament [it must be borne in mind that throughout this work paine generally means by "bible" only the old testament, and speaks of the new as the "testament."--editor.] to refer to, though i was writing against both; nor could i procure any; notwithstanding which i have produced a work that no bible believer, though writing at his ease and with a library of church books about him, can refute. towards the latter end of december of that year, a motion was made and carried, to exclude foreigners from the convention. there were but two, anacharsis cloots and myself; and i saw i was particularly pointed at by bourdon de l'oise, in his speech on that motion. conceiving, after this, that i had but a few days of liberty, i sat down and brought the work to a close as speedily as possible; and i had not finished it more than six hours, in the state it has since appeared, [this is an allusion to the essay which paine wrote at an earlier part of . see introduction.--editor.] before a guard came there, about three in the morning, with an order signed by the two committees of public safety and surety general, for putting me in arrestation as a foreigner, and conveying me to the prison of the luxembourg. i contrived, in my way there, to call on joel barlow, and i put the manuscript of the work into his hands, as more safe than in my possession in prison; and not knowing what might be the fate in france either of the writer or the work, i addressed it to the protection of the citizens of the united states. it is justice that i say, that the guard who executed this order, and the interpreter to the committee of general surety, who accompanied them to examine my papers, treated me not only with civility, but with respect. the keeper of the 'luxembourg, benoit, a man of good heart, shewed to me every friendship in his power, as did also all his family, while he continued in that station. he was removed from it, put into arrestation, and carried before the tribunal upon a malignant accusation, but acquitted. after i had been in luxembourg about three weeks, the americans then in paris went in a body to the convention to reclaim me as their countryman and friend; but were answered by the president, vadier, who was also president of the committee of surety general, and had signed the order for my arrestation, that i was born in england. [these excited americans do not seem to have understood or reported the most important item in vadeer's reply, namely that their application was "unofficial," i.e. not made through or sanctioned by gouverneur morris, american minister. for the detailed history of all this see vol. iii.--editor.] i heard no more, after this, from any person out of the walls of the prison, till the fall of robespierre, on the th of thermidor--july , . about two months before this event, i was seized with a fever that in its progress had every symptom of becoming mortal, and from the effects of which i am not recovered. it was then that i remembered with renewed satisfaction, and congratulated myself most sincerely, on having written the former part of the age of reason. i had then but little expectation of surviving, and those about me had less. i know therefore by experience the conscientious trial of my own principles. i was then with three chamber comrades: joseph vanheule of bruges, charles bastfni, and michael robyns of louvain. the unceasing and anxious attention of these three friends to me, by night and day, i remember with gratitude and mention with pleasure. it happened that a physician (dr. graham) and a surgeon, (mr. bond,) part of the suite of general o'hara, [the officer who at yorktown, virginia, carried out the sword of cornwallis for surrender, and satirically offered it to rochambeau instead of washington. paine loaned him pounds when he (o'hara) left the prison, the money he had concealed in the lock of his cell-door.--editor.] were then in the luxembourg: i ask not myself whether it be convenient to them, as men under the english government, that i express to them my thanks; but i should reproach myself if i did not; and also to the physician of the luxembourg, dr. markoski. i have some reason to believe, because i cannot discover any other, that this illness preserved me in existence. among the papers of robespierre that were examined and reported upon to the convention by a committee of deputies, is a note in the hand writing of robespierre, in the following words: "demander que thomas paine soit decrete d'accusation, pour l'interet de l'amerique autant que de la france." [demand that thomas paine be decreed of accusation, for the interest of america, as well as of france.] from what cause it was that the intention was not put in execution, i know not, and cannot inform myself; and therefore i ascribe it to impossibility, on account of that illness. the convention, to repair as much as lay in their power the injustice i had sustained, invited me publickly and unanimously to return into the convention, and which i accepted, to shew i could bear an injury without permitting it to injure my principles or my disposition. it is not because right principles have been violated, that they are to be abandoned. i have seen, since i have been at liberty, several publications written, some in america, and some in england, as answers to the former part of "the age of reason." if the authors of these can amuse themselves by so doing, i shall not interrupt them, they may write against the work, and against me, as much as they please; they do me more service than they intend, and i can have no objection that they write on. they will find, however, by this second part, without its being written as an answer to them, that they must return to their work, and spin their cobweb over again. the first is brushed away by accident. they will now find that i have furnished myself with a bible and testament; and i can say also that i have found them to be much worse books than i had conceived. if i have erred in any thing, in the former part of the age of reason, it has been by speaking better of some parts than they deserved. i observe, that all my opponents resort, more or less, to what they call scripture evidence and bible authority, to help them out. they are so little masters of the subject, as to confound a dispute about authenticity with a dispute about doctrines; i will, however, put them right, that if they should be disposed to write any more, they may know how to begin. thomas paine. october, . chapter i - the old testament it has often been said that any thing may be proved from the bible; but before any thing can be admitted as proved by bible, the bible itself must be proved to be true; for if the bible be not true, or the truth of it be doubtful, it ceases to have authority, and cannot be admitted as proof of any thing. it has been the practice of all christian commentators on the bible, and of all christian priests and preachers, to impose the bible on the world as a mass of truth, and as the word of god; they have disputed and wrangled, and have anathematized each other about the supposeable meaning of particular parts and passages therein; one has said and insisted that such a passage meant such a thing, another that it meant directly the contrary, and a third, that it meant neither one nor the other, but something different from both; and this they have called understanding the bible. it has happened, that all the answers that i have seen to the former part of 'the age of reason' have been written by priests: and these pious men, like their predecessors, contend and wrangle, and understand the bible; each understands it differently, but each understands it best; and they have agreed in nothing but in telling their readers that thomas paine understands it not. now instead of wasting their time, and heating themselves in fractious disputations about doctrinal points drawn from the bible, these men ought to know, and if they do not it is civility to inform them, that the first thing to be understood is, whether there is sufficient authority for believing the bible to be the word of god, or whether there is not? there are matters in that book, said to be done by the express command of god, that are as shocking to humanity, and to every idea we have of moral justice, as any thing done by robespierre, by carrier, by joseph le bon, in france, by the english government in the east indies, or by any other assassin in modern times. when we read in the books ascribed to moses, joshua, etc., that they (the israelites) came by stealth upon whole nations of people, who, as the history itself shews, had given them no offence; that they put all those nations to the sword; that they spared neither age nor infancy; that they utterly destroyed men, women and children; that they left not a soul to breathe; expressions that are repeated over and over again in those books, and that too with exulting ferocity; are we sure these things are facts? are we sure that the creator of man commissioned those things to be done? are we sure that the books that tell us so were written by his authority? it is not the antiquity of a tale that is an evidence of its truth; on the contrary, it is a symptom of its being fabulous; for the more ancient any history pretends to be, the more it has the resemblance of a fable. the origin of every nation is buried in fabulous tradition, and that of the jews is as much to be suspected as any other. to charger the commission of things upon the almighty, which in their own nature, and by every rule of moral justice, are crimes, as all assassination is, and more especially the assassination of infants, is matter of serious concern. the bible tells us, that those assassinations were done by the express command of god. to believe therefore the bible to be true, we must unbelieve all our belief in the moral justice of god; for wherein could crying or smiling infants offend? and to read the bible without horror, we must undo every thing that is tender, sympathising, and benevolent in the heart of man. speaking for myself, if i had no other evidence that the bible is fabulous, than the sacrifice i must make to believe it to be true, that alone would be sufficient to determine my choice. but in addition to all the moral evidence against the bible, i will, in the progress of this work, produce such other evidence as even a priest cannot deny; and show, from that evidence, that the bible is not entitled to credit, as being the word of god. but, before i proceed to this examination, i will show wherein the bible differs from all other ancient writings with respect to the nature of the evidence necessary to establish its authenticity; and this is is the more proper to be done, because the advocates of the bible, in their answers to the former part of 'the age of reason,' undertake to say, and they put some stress thereon, that the authenticity of the bible is as well established as that of any other ancient book: as if our belief of the one could become any rule for our belief of the other. i know, however, but of one ancient book that authoritatively challenges universal consent and belief, and that is euclid's elements of geometry; [euclid, according to chronological history, lived three hundred years before christ, and about one hundred before archimedes; he was of the city of alexandria, in egypt.--author.] and the reason is, because it is a book of self-evident demonstration, entirely independent of its author, and of every thing relating to time, place, and circumstance. the matters contained in that book would have the same authority they now have, had they been written by any other person, or had the work been anonymous, or had the author never been known; for the identical certainty of who was the author makes no part of our belief of the matters contained in the book. but it is quite otherwise with respect to the books ascribed to moses, to joshua, to samuel, etc.: those are books of testimony, and they testify of things naturally incredible; and therefore the whole of our belief, as to the authenticity of those books, rests, in the first place, upon the certainty that they were written by moses, joshua, and samuel; secondly, upon the credit we give to their testimony. we may believe the first, that is, may believe the certainty of the authorship, and yet not the testimony; in the same manner that we may believe that a certain person gave evidence upon a case, and yet not believe the evidence that he gave. but if it should be found that the books ascribed to moses, joshua, and samuel, were not written by moses, joshua, and samuel, every part of the authority and authenticity of those books is gone at once; for there can be no such thing as forged or invented testimony; neither can there be anonymous testimony, more especially as to things naturally incredible; such as that of talking with god face to face, or that of the sun and moon standing still at the command of a man. the greatest part of the other ancient books are works of genius; of which kind are those ascribed to homer, to plato, to aristotle, to demosthenes, to cicero, etc. here again the author is not an essential in the credit we give to any of those works; for as works of genius they would have the same merit they have now, were they anonymous. nobody believes the trojan story, as related by homer, to be true; for it is the poet only that is admired, and the merit of the poet will remain, though the story be fabulous. but if we disbelieve the matters related by the bible authors (moses for instance) as we disbelieve the things related by homer, there remains nothing of moses in our estimation, but an imposter. as to the ancient historians, from herodotus to tacitus, we credit them as far as they relate things probable and credible, and no further: for if we do, we must believe the two miracles which tacitus relates were performed by vespasian, that of curing a lame man, and a blind man, in just the same manner as the same things are told of jesus christ by his historians. we must also believe the miracles cited by josephus, that of the sea of pamphilia opening to let alexander and his army pass, as is related of the red sea in exodus. these miracles are quite as well authenticated as the bible miracles, and yet we do not believe them; consequently the degree of evidence necessary to establish our belief of things naturally incredible, whether in the bible or elsewhere, is far greater than that which obtains our belief to natural and probable things; and therefore the advocates for the bible have no claim to our belief of the bible because that we believe things stated in other ancient writings; since that we believe the things stated in those writings no further than they are probable and credible, or because they are self-evident, like euclid; or admire them because they are elegant, like homer; or approve them because they are sedate, like plato; or judicious, like aristotle. having premised these things, i proceed to examine the authenticity of the bible; and i begin with what are called the five books of moses, genesis, exodus, leviticus, numbers, and deuteronomy. my intention is to shew that those books are spurious, and that moses is not the author of them; and still further, that they were not written in the time of moses nor till several hundred years afterwards; that they are no other than an attempted history of the life of moses, and of the times in which he is said to have lived, and also of the times prior thereto, written by some very ignorant and stupid pretenders to authorship, several hundred years after the death of moses; as men now write histories of things that happened, or are supposed to have happened, several hundred or several thousand years ago. the evidence that i shall produce in this case is from the books themselves; and i will confine myself to this evidence only. were i to refer for proofs to any of the ancient authors, whom the advocates of the bible call prophane authors, they would controvert that authority, as i controvert theirs: i will therefore meet them on their own ground, and oppose them with their own weapon, the bible. in the first place, there is no affirmative evidence that moses is the author of those books; and that he is the author, is altogether an unfounded opinion, got abroad nobody knows how. the style and manner in which those books are written give no room to believe, or even to suppose, they were written by moses; for it is altogether the style and manner of another person speaking of moses. in exodus, leviticus and numbers, (for every thing in genesis is prior to the times of moses and not the least allusion is made to him therein,) the whole, i say, of these books is in the third person; it is always, the lord said unto moses, or moses said unto the lord; or moses said unto the people, or the people said unto moses; and this is the style and manner that historians use in speaking of the person whose lives and actions they are writing. it may be said, that a man may speak of himself in the third person, and, therefore, it may be supposed that moses did; but supposition proves nothing; and if the advocates for the belief that moses wrote those books himself have nothing better to advance than supposition, they may as well be silent. but granting the grammatical right, that moses might speak of himself in the third person, because any man might speak of himself in that manner, it cannot be admitted as a fact in those books, that it is moses who speaks, without rendering moses truly ridiculous and absurd:--for example, numbers xii. : "now the man moses was very meek, above all the men which were on the face of the earth." if moses said this of himself, instead of being the meekest of men, he was one of the most vain and arrogant coxcombs; and the advocates for those books may now take which side they please, for both sides are against them: if moses was not the author, the books are without authority; and if he was the author, the author is without credit, because to boast of meekness is the reverse of meekness, and is a lie in sentiment. in deuteronomy, the style and manner of writing marks more evidently than in the former books that moses is not the writer. the manner here used is dramatical; the writer opens the subject by a short introductory discourse, and then introduces moses as in the act of speaking, and when he has made moses finish his harrangue, he (the writer) resumes his own part, and speaks till he brings moses forward again, and at last closes the scene with an account of the death, funeral, and character of moses. this interchange of speakers occurs four times in this book: from the first verse of the first chapter, to the end of the fifth verse, it is the writer who speaks; he then introduces moses as in the act of making his harrangue, and this continues to the end of the th verse of the fourth chapter; here the writer drops moses, and speaks historically of what was done in consequence of what moses, when living, is supposed to have said, and which the writer has dramatically rehearsed. the writer opens the subject again in the first verse of the fifth chapter, though it is only by saying that moses called the people of israel together; he then introduces moses as before, and continues him as in the act of speaking, to the end of the th chapter. he does the same thing at the beginning of the th chapter; and continues moses as in the act of speaking, to the end of the th chapter. at the th chapter the writer speaks again through the whole of the first verse, and the first line of the second verse, where he introduces moses for the last time, and continues him as in the act of speaking, to the end of the d chapter. the writer having now finished the rehearsal on the part of moses, comes forward, and speaks through the whole of the last chapter: he begins by telling the reader, that moses went up to the top of pisgah, that he saw from thence the land which (the writer says) had been promised to abraham, isaac, and jacob; that he, moses, died there in the land of moab, that he buried him in a valley in the land of moab, but that no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day, that is unto the time in which the writer lived who wrote the book of deuteronomy. the writer then tells us, that moses was one hundred and ten years of age when he died--that his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated; and he concludes by saying, that there arose not a prophet since in israel like unto moses, whom, says this anonymous writer, the lord knew face to face. having thus shewn, as far as grammatical evidence implies, that moses was not the writer of those books, i will, after making a few observations on the inconsistencies of the writer of the book of deuteronomy, proceed to shew, from the historical and chronological evidence contained in those books, that moses was not, because he could not be, the writer of them; and consequently, that there is no authority for believing that the inhuman and horrid butcheries of men, women, and children, told of in those books, were done, as those books say they were, at the command of god. it is a duty incumbent on every true deist, that he vindicates the moral justice of god against the calumnies of the bible. the writer of the book of deuteronomy, whoever he was, for it is an anonymous work, is obscure, and also contradictory with himself in the account he has given of moses. after telling that moses went to the top of pisgah (and it does not appear from any account that he ever came down again) he tells us, that moses died there in the land of moab, and that he buried him in a valley in the land of moab; but as there is no antecedent to the pronoun he, there is no knowing who he was, that did bury him. if the writer meant that he (god) buried him, how should he (the writer) know it? or why should we (the readers) believe him? since we know not who the writer was that tells us so, for certainly moses could not himself tell where he was buried. the writer also tells us, that no man knoweth where the sepulchre of moses is unto this day, meaning the time in which this writer lived; how then should he know that moses was buried in a valley in the land of moab? for as the writer lived long after the time of moses, as is evident from his using the expression of unto this day, meaning a great length of time after the death of moses, he certainly was not at his funeral; and on the other hand, it is impossible that moses himself could say that no man knoweth where the sepulchre is unto this day. to make moses the speaker, would be an improvement on the play of a child that hides himself and cries nobody can find me; nobody can find moses. this writer has no where told us how he came by the speeches which he has put into the mouth of moses to speak, and therefore we have a right to conclude that he either composed them himself, or wrote them from oral tradition. one or other of these is the more probable, since he has given, in the fifth chapter, a table of commandments, in which that called the fourth commandment is different from the fourth commandment in the twentieth chapter of exodus. in that of exodus, the reason given for keeping the seventh day is, because (says the commandment) god made the heavens and the earth in six days, and rested on the seventh; but in that of deuteronomy, the reason given is, that it was the day on which the children of israel came out of egypt, and therefore, says this commandment, the lord thy god commanded thee to kee the sabbath-day this makes no mention of the creation, nor that of the coming out of egypt. there are also many things given as laws of moses in this book, that are not to be found in any of the other books; among which is that inhuman and brutal law, xxi. , , , , which authorizes parents, the father and the mother, to bring their own children to have them stoned to death for what it pleased them to call stubbornness.--but priests have always been fond of preaching up deuteronomy, for deuteronomy preaches up tythes; and it is from this book, xxv. , they have taken the phrase, and applied it to tything, that "thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn:" and that this might not escape observation, they have noted it in the table of contents at the head of the chapter, though it is only a single verse of less than two lines. o priests! priests! ye are willing to be compared to an ox, for the sake of tythes. [an elegant pocket edition of paine's theological works (london. r. carlile, ) has in its title a picture of paine, as a moses in evening dress, unfolding the two tables of his "age of reason" to a farmer from whom the bishop of llandaff (who replied to this work) has taken a sheaf and a lamb which he is carrying to a church at the summit of a well stocked hill.--editor.]--though it is impossible for us to know identically who the writer of deuteronomy was, it is not difficult to discover him professionally, that he was some jewish priest, who lived, as i shall shew in the course of this work, at least three hundred and fifty years after the time of moses. i come now to speak of the historical and chronological evidence. the chronology that i shall use is the bible chronology; for i mean not to go out of the bible for evidence of any thing, but to make the bible itself prove historically and chronologically that moses is not the author of the books ascribed to him. it is therefore proper that i inform the readers (such an one at least as may not have the opportunity of knowing it) that in the larger bibles, and also in some smaller ones, there is a series of chronology printed in the margin of every page for the purpose of showing how long the historical matters stated in each page happened, or are supposed to have happened, before christ, and consequently the distance of time between one historical circumstance and another. i begin with the book of genesis.--in genesis xiv., the writer gives an account of lot being taken prisoner in a battle between the four kings against five, and carried off; and that when the account of lot being taken came to abraham, that he armed all his household and marched to rescue lot from the captors; and that he pursued them unto dan. (ver. .) to shew in what manner this expression of pursuing them unto dan applies to the case in question, i will refer to two circumstances, the one in america, the other in france. the city now called new york, in america, was originally new amsterdam; and the town in france, lately called havre marat, was before called havre-de-grace. new amsterdam was changed to new york in the year ; havre-de-grace to havre marat in the year . should, therefore, any writing be found, though without date, in which the name of new-york should be mentioned, it would be certain evidence that such a writing could not have been written before, and must have been written after new amsterdam was changed to new york, and consequently not till after the year , or at least during the course of that year. and in like manner, any dateless writing, with the name of havre marat, would be certain evidence that such a writing must have been written after havre-de-grace became havre marat, and consequently not till after the year , or at least during the course of that year. i now come to the application of those cases, and to show that there was no such place as dan till many years after the death of moses; and consequently, that moses could not be the writer of the book of genesis, where this account of pursuing them unto dan is given. the place that is called dan in the bible was originally a town of the gentiles, called laish; and when the tribe of dan seized upon this town, they changed its name to dan, in commemoration of dan, who was the father of that tribe, and the great grandson of abraham. to establish this in proof, it is necessary to refer from genesis to chapter xviii. of the book called the book of judges. it is there said (ver. ) that "they (the danites) came unto laish to a people that were quiet and secure, and they smote them with the edge of the sword [the bible is filled with murder] and burned the city with fire; and they built a city, (ver. ,) and dwelt therein, and [ver. ,] they called the name of the city dan, after the name of dan, their father; howbeit the name of the city was laish at the first." this account of the danites taking possession of laish and changing it to dan, is placed in the book of judges immediately after the death of samson. the death of samson is said to have happened b.c. and that of moses b.c. ; and, therefore, according to the historical arrangement, the place was not called dan till years after the death of moses. there is a striking confusion between the historical and the chronological arrangement in the book of judges. the last five chapters, as they stand in the book, , , , , , are put chronologically before all the preceding chapters; they are made to be years before the th chapter, before the th, before the th, before the th, go before the th, and years before the st chapter. this shews the uncertain and fabulous state of the bible. according to the chronological arrangement, the taking of laish, and giving it the name of dan, is made to be twenty years after the death of joshua, who was the successor of moses; and by the historical order, as it stands in the book, it is made to be years after the death of joshua, and after that of moses; but they both exclude moses from being the writer of genesis, because, according to either of the statements, no such a place as dan existed in the time of moses; and therefore the writer of genesis must have been some person who lived after the town of laish had the name of dan; and who that person was nobody knows, and consequently the book of genesis is anonymous, and without authority. i come now to state another point of historical and chronological evidence, and to show therefrom, as in the preceding case, that moses is not the author of the book of genesis. in genesis xxxvi. there is given a genealogy of the sons and descendants of esau, who are called edomites, and also a list by name of the kings of edom; in enumerating of which, it is said, verse , "and these are the kings that reigned in edom, before there reigned any king over the children of israel." now, were any dateless writing to be found, in which, speaking of any past events, the writer should say, these things happened before there was any congress in america, or before there was any convention in france, it would be evidence that such writing could not have been written before, and could only be written after there was a congress in america or a convention in france, as the case might be; and, consequently, that it could not be written by any person who died before there was a congress in the one country, or a convention in the other. nothing is more frequent, as well in history as in conversation, than to refer to a fact in the room of a date: it is most natural so to do, because a fact fixes itself in the memory better than a date; secondly, because the fact includes the date, and serves to give two ideas at once; and this manner of speaking by circumstances implies as positively that the fact alluded to is past, as if it was so expressed. when a person in speaking upon any matter, says, it was before i was married, or before my son was born, or before i went to america, or before i went to france, it is absolutely understood, and intended to be understood, that he has been married, that he has had a son, that he has been in america, or been in france. language does not admit of using this mode of expression in any other sense; and whenever such an expression is found anywhere, it can only be understood in the sense in which only it could have been used. the passage, therefore, that i have quoted--that "these are the kings that reigned in edom, before there reigned any king over the children of israel," could only have been written after the first king began to reign over them; and consequently that the book of genesis, so far from having been written by moses, could not have been written till the time of saul at least. this is the positive sense of the passage; but the expression, any king, implies more kings than one, at least it implies two, and this will carry it to the time of david; and, if taken in a general sense, it carries itself through all times of the jewish monarchy. had we met with this verse in any part of the bible that professed to have been written after kings began to reign in israel, it would have been impossible not to have seen the application of it. it happens then that this is the case; the two books of chronicles, which give a history of all the kings of israel, are professedly, as well as in fact, written after the jewish monarchy began; and this verse that i have quoted, and all the remaining verses of genesis xxxvi. are, word for word, in chronicles i., beginning at the d verse. it was with consistency that the writer of the chronicles could say as he has said, chron. i. , "these are the kings that reigned in edom, before there reigned any king ever the children of israel," because he was going to give, and has given, a list of the kings that had reigned in israel; but as it is impossible that the same expression could have been used before that period, it is as certain as any thing can be proved from historical language, that this part of genesis is taken from chronicles, and that genesis is not so old as chronicles, and probably not so old as the book of homer, or as aesop's fables; admitting homer to have been, as the tables of chronology state, contemporary with david or solomon, and aesop to have lived about the end of the jewish monarchy. take away from genesis the belief that moses was the author, on which only the strange belief that it is the word of god has stood, and there remains nothing of genesis but an anonymous book of stories, fables, and traditionary or invented absurdities, or of downright lies. the story of eve and the serpent, and of noah and his ark, drops to a level with the arabian tales, without the merit of being entertaining, and the account of men living to eight and nine hundred years becomes as fabulous as the immortality of the giants of the mythology. besides, the character of moses, as stated in the bible, is the most horrid that can be imagined. if those accounts be true, he was the wretch that first began and carried on wars on the score or on the pretence of religion; and under that mask, or that infatuation, committed the most unexampled atrocities that are to be found in the history of any nation. of which i will state only one instance: when the jewish army returned from one of their plundering and murdering excursions, the account goes on as follows (numbers xxxi. ): "and moses, and eleazar the priest, and all the princes of the congregation, went forth to meet them without the camp; and moses was wroth with the officers of the host, with the captains over thousands, and captains over hundreds, which came from the battle; and moses said unto them, 'have ye saved all the women alive?' behold, these caused the children of israel, through the counsel of balaam, to commit trespass against the lord in the matter of peor, and there was a plague among the congregation of the lord. now therefore, 'kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman that hath known a man by lying with him; but all the women-children that have not known a man by lying with him, keep alive for yourselves.'" among the detestable villains that in any period of the world have disgraced the name of man, it is impossible to find a greater than moses, if this account be true. here is an order to butcher the boys, to massacre the mothers, and debauch the daughters. let any mother put herself in the situation of those mothers, one child murdered, another destined to violation, and herself in the hands of an executioner: let any daughter put herself in the situation of those daughters, destined as a prey to the murderers of a mother and a brother, and what will be their feelings? it is in vain that we attempt to impose upon nature, for nature will have her course, and the religion that tortures all her social ties is a false religion. after this detestable order, follows an account of the plunder taken, and the manner of dividing it; and here it is that the profaneings of priestly hypocrisy increases the catalogue of crimes. verse , "and the lord's tribute of the sheep was six hundred and threescore and fifteen; and the beeves were thirty and six thousand, of which the lord's tribute was threescore and twelve; and the asses were thirty thousand, of which the lord's tribute was threescore and one; and the persons were sixteen thousand, of which the lord's tribute was thirty and two." in short, the matters contained in this chapter, as well as in many other parts of the bible, are too horrid for humanity to read, or for decency to hear; for it appears, from the th verse of this chapter, that the number of women-children consigned to debauchery by the order of moses was thirty-two thousand. people in general know not what wickedness there is in this pretended word of god. brought up in habits of superstition, they take it for granted that the bible is true, and that it is good; they permit themselves not to doubt of it, and they carry the ideas they form of the benevolence of the almighty to the book which they have been taught to believe was written by his authority. good heavens! it is quite another thing, it is a book of lies, wickedness, and blasphemy; for what can be greater blasphemy, than to ascribe the wickedness of man to the orders of the almighty! but to return to my subject, that of showing that moses is not the author of the books ascribed to him, and that the bible is spurious. the two instances i have already given would be sufficient, without any additional evidence, to invalidate the authenticity of any book that pretended to be four or five hundred years more ancient than the matters it speaks of, refers to, them as facts; for in the case of pursuing them unto dan, and of the kings that reigned over the children of israel; not even the flimsy pretence of prophecy can be pleaded. the expressions are in the preter tense, and it would be downright idiotism to say that a man could prophecy in the preter tense. but there are many other passages scattered throughout those books that unite in the same point of evidence. it is said in exodus, (another of the books ascribed to moses,) xvi. : "and the children of israel did eat manna until they came to a land inhabited; they did eat manna until they came unto the borders of the land of canaan." whether the children of israel ate manna or not, or what manna was, or whether it was anything more than a kind of fungus or small mushroom, or other vegetable substance common to that part of the country, makes no part of my argument; all that i mean to show is, that it is not moses that could write this account, because the account extends itself beyond the life time of moses. moses, according to the bible, (but it is such a book of lies and contradictions there is no knowing which part to believe, or whether any) died in the wilderness, and never came upon the borders of 'the land of canaan; and consequently, it could not be he that said what the children of israel did, or what they ate when they came there. this account of eating manna, which they tell us was written by moses, extends itself to the time of joshua, the successor of moses, as appears by the account given in the book of joshua, after the children of israel had passed the river jordan, and came into the borders of the land of canaan. joshua, v. : "and the manna ceased on the morrow, after they had eaten of the old corn of the land; neither had the children of israel manna any more, but they did eat of the fruit of the land of canaan that year." but a more remarkable instance than this occurs in deuteronomy; which, while it shows that moses could not be the writer of that book, shows also the fabulous notions that prevailed at that time about giants' in deuteronomy iii. , among the conquests said to be made by moses, is an account of the taking of og, king of bashan: "for only og, king of bashan, remained of the race of giants; behold, his bedstead was a bedstead of iron; is it not in rabbath of the children of ammon? nine cubits was the length thereof, and four cubits the breadth of it, after the cubit of a man." a cubit is foot / inches; the length therefore of the bed was feet inches, and the breadth feet inches: thus much for this giant's bed. now for the historical part, which, though the evidence is not so direct and positive as in the former cases, is nevertheless very presumable and corroborating evidence, and is better than the best evidence on the contrary side. the writer, by way of proving the existence of this giant, refers to his bed, as an ancient relick, and says, is it not in rabbath (or rabbah) of the children of ammon? meaning that it is; for such is frequently the bible method of affirming a thing. but it could not be moses that said this, because moses could know nothing about rabbah, nor of what was in it. rabbah was not a city belonging to this giant king, nor was it one of the cities that moses took. the knowledge therefore that this bed was at rabbah, and of the particulars of its dimensions, must be referred to the time when rabbah was taken, and this was not till four hundred years after the death of moses; for which, see sam. xii. : "and joab [david's general] fought against rabbah of the children of ammon, and took the royal city," etc. as i am not undertaking to point out all the contradictions in time, place, and circumstance that abound in the books ascribed to moses, and which prove to demonstration that those books could not be written by moses, nor in the time of moses, i proceed to the book of joshua, and to shew that joshua is not the author of that book, and that it is anonymous and without authority. the evidence i shall produce is contained in the book itself: i will not go out of the bible for proof against the supposed authenticity of the bible. false testimony is always good against itself. joshua, according to joshua i., was the immediate successor of moses; he was, moreover, a military man, which moses was not; and he continued as chief of the people of israel twenty-five years; that is, from the time that moses died, which, according to the bible chronology, was b.c. , until b.c. , when, according to the same chronology, joshua died. if, therefore, we find in this book, said to have been written by joshua, references to facts done after the death of joshua, it is evidence that joshua could not be the author; and also that the book could not have been written till after the time of the latest fact which it records. as to the character of the book, it is horrid; it is a military history of rapine and murder, as savage and brutal as those recorded of his predecessor in villainy and hypocrisy, moses; and the blasphemy consists, as in the former books, in ascribing those deeds to the orders of the almighty. in the first place, the book of joshua, as is the case in the preceding books, is written in the third person; it is the historian of joshua that speaks, for it would have been absurd and vainglorious that joshua should say of himself, as is said of him in the last verse of the sixth chapter, that "his fame was noised throughout all the country."--i now come more immediately to the proof. in joshua xxiv. , it is said "and israel served the lord all the days of joshua, and all the days of the elders that over-lived joshua." now, in the name of common sense, can it be joshua that relates what people had done after he was dead? this account must not only have been written by some historian that lived after joshua, but that lived also after the elders that out-lived joshua. there are several passages of a general meaning with respect to time, scattered throughout the book of joshua, that carries the time in which the book was written to a distance from the time of joshua, but without marking by exclusion any particular time, as in the passage above quoted. in that passage, the time that intervened between the death of joshua and the death of the elders is excluded descriptively and absolutely, and the evidence substantiates that the book could not have been written till after the death of the last. but though the passages to which i allude, and which i am going to quote, do not designate any particular time by exclusion, they imply a time far more distant from the days of joshua than is contained between the death of joshua and the death of the elders. such is the passage, x. , where, after giving an account that the sun stood still upon gibeon, and the moon in the valley of ajalon, at the command of joshua, (a tale only fit to amuse children) [note: this tale of the sun standing still upon motint gibeon, and the moon in the valley of ajalon, is one of those fables that detects itself. such a circumstance could not have happened without being known all over the world. one half would have wondered why the sun did not rise, and the other why it did not set; and the tradition of it would be universal; whereas there is not a nation in the world that knows anything about it. but why must the moon stand still? what occasion could there be for moonlight in the daytime, and that too whilst the sun shined? as a poetical figure, the whole is well enough; it is akin to that in the song of deborah and barak, the stars in their courses fought against sisera; but it is inferior to the figurative declaration of mahomet to the persons who came to expostulate with him on his goings on, wert thou, said he, to come to me with the sun in thy right hand and the moon in thy left, it should not alter my career. for joshua to have exceeded mahomet, he should have put the sun and moon, one in each pocket, and carried them as guy faux carried his dark lanthorn, and taken them out to shine as he might happen to want them. the sublime and the ridiculous are often so nearly related that it is difficult to class them separately. one step above the sublime makes the ridiculous, and one step above the ridiculous makes the sublime again; the account, however, abstracted from the poetical fancy, shews the ignorance of joshua, for he should have commanded the earth to have stood still.--author.] the passage says: "and there was no day like that, before it, nor after it, that the lord hearkened to the voice of a man." the time implied by the expression after it, that is, after that day, being put in comparison with all the time that passed before it, must, in order to give any expressive signification to the passage, mean a great length of time:--for example, it would have been ridiculous to have said so the next day, or the next week, or the next month, or the next year; to give therefore meaning to the passage, comparative with the wonder it relates, and the prior time it alludes to, it must mean centuries of years; less however than one would be trifling, and less than two would be barely admissible. a distant, but general time is also expressed in chapter viii.; where, after giving an account of the taking the city of ai, it is said, ver. th, "and joshua burned ai, and made it an heap for ever, a desolation unto this day;" and again, ver. , where speaking of the king of ai, whom joshua had hanged, and buried at the entering of the gate, it is said, "and he raised thereon a great heap of stones, which remaineth unto this day," that is, unto the day or time in which the writer of the book of joshua lived. and again, in chapter x. where, after speaking of the five kings whom joshua had hanged on five trees, and then thrown in a cave, it is said, "and he laid great stones on the cave's mouth, which remain unto this very day." in enumerating the several exploits of joshua, and of the tribes, and of the places which they conquered or attempted, it is said, xv. , "as for the jebusites, the inhabitants of jerusalem, the children of judah could not drive them out; but the jebusites dwell with the children of judah at jerusalem unto this day." the question upon this passage is, at what time did the jebusites and the children of judah dwell together at jerusalem? as this matter occurs again in judges i. i shall reserve my observations till i come to that part. having thus shewn from the book of joshua itself, without any auxiliary evidence whatever, that joshua is not the author of that book, and that it is anonymous, and consequently without authority, i proceed, as before-mentioned, to the book of judges. the book of judges is anonymous on the face of it; and, therefore, even the pretence is wanting to call it the word of god; it has not so much as a nominal voucher; it is altogether fatherless. this book begins with the same expression as the book of joshua. that of joshua begins, chap i. , now after the death of moses, etc., and this of the judges begins, now after the death of joshua, etc. this, and the similarity of stile between the two books, indicate that they are the work of the same author; but who he was, is altogether unknown; the only point that the book proves is that the author lived long after the time of joshua; for though it begins as if it followed immediately after his death, the second chapter is an epitome or abstract of the whole book, which, according to the bible chronology, extends its history through a space of years; that is, from the death of joshua, b.c. to the death of samson, b.c. , and only years before saul went to seek his father's asses, and was made king. but there is good reason to believe, that it was not written till the time of david, at least, and that the book of joshua was not written before the same time. in judges i., the writer, after announcing the death of joshua, proceeds to tell what happened between the children of judah and the native inhabitants of the land of canaan. in this statement the writer, having abruptly mentioned jerusalem in the th verse, says immediately after, in the th verse, by way of explanation, "now the children of judah had fought against jerusalem, and taken it;" consequently this book could not have been written before jerusalem had been taken. the reader will recollect the quotation i have just before made from joshua xv. , where it said that the jebusites dwell with the children of judah at jerusalem at this day; meaning the time when the book of joshua was written. the evidence i have already produced to prove that the books i have hitherto treated of were not written by the persons to whom they are ascribed, nor till many years after their death, if such persons ever lived, is already so abundant, that i can afford to admit this passage with less weight than i am entitled to draw from it. for the case is, that so far as the bible can be credited as an history, the city of jerusalem was not taken till the time of david; and consequently, that the book of joshua, and of judges, were not written till after the commencement of the reign of david, which was years after the death of joshua. the name of the city that was afterward called jerusalem was originally jebus, or jebusi, and was the capital of the jebusites. the account of david's taking this city is given in samuel, v. , etc.; also in chron. xiv. , etc. there is no mention in any part of the bible that it was ever taken before, nor any account that favours such an opinion. it is not said, either in samuel or in chronicles, that they "utterly destroyed men, women and children, that they left not a soul to breathe," as is said of their other conquests; and the silence here observed implies that it was taken by capitulation; and that the jebusites, the native inhabitants, continued to live in the place after it was taken. the account therefore, given in joshua, that "the jebusites dwell with the children of judah" at jerusalem at this day, corresponds to no other time than after taking the city by david. having now shown that every book in the bible, from genesis to judges, is without authenticity, i come to the book of ruth, an idle, bungling story, foolishly told, nobody knows by whom, about a strolling country-girl creeping slily to bed to her cousin boaz. [the text of ruth does not imply the unpleasant sense paine's words are likely to convey.--editor.] pretty stuff indeed to be called the word of god. it is, however, one of the best books in the bible, for it is free from murder and rapine. i come next to the two books of samuel, and to shew that those books were not written by samuel, nor till a great length of time after the death of samuel; and that they are, like all the former books, anonymous, and without authority. to be convinced that these books have been written much later than the time of samuel, and consequently not by him, it is only necessary to read the account which the writer gives of saul going to seek his father's asses, and of his interview with samuel, of whom saul went to enquire about those lost asses, as foolish people now-a-days go to a conjuror to enquire after lost things. the writer, in relating this story of saul, samuel, and the asses, does not tell it as a thing that had just then happened, but as an ancient story in the time this writer lived; for he tells it in the language or terms used at the time that samuel lived, which obliges the writer to explain the story in the terms or language used in the time the writer lived. samuel, in the account given of him in the first of those books, chap. ix. called the seer; and it is by this term that saul enquires after him, ver. , "and as they [saul and his servant] went up the hill to the city, they found young maidens going out to draw water; and they said unto them, is the seer here?" saul then went according to the direction of these maidens, and met samuel without knowing him, and said unto him, ver. , "tell me, i pray thee, where the seer's house is? and samuel answered saul, and said, i am the seer." as the writer of the book of samuel relates these questions and answers, in the language or manner of speaking used in the time they are said to have been spoken, and as that manner of speaking was out of use when this author wrote, he found it necessary, in order to make the story understood, to explain the terms in which these questions and answers are spoken; and he does this in the th verse, where he says, "before-time in israel, when a man went to enquire of god, thus he spake, come let us go to the seer; for he that is now called a prophet, was before-time called a seer." this proves, as i have before said, that this story of saul, samuel, and the asses, was an ancient story at the time the book of samuel was written, and consequently that samuel did not write it, and that the book is without authenticity. but if we go further into those books the evidence is still more positive that samuel is not the writer of them; for they relate things that did not happen till several years after the death of samuel. samuel died before saul; for i samuel, xxviii. tells, that saul and the witch of endor conjured samuel up after he was dead; yet the history of matters contained in those books is extended through the remaining part of saul's life, and to the latter end of the life of david, who succeeded saul. the account of the death and burial of samuel (a thing which he could not write himself) is related in i samuel xxv.; and the chronology affixed to this chapter makes this to be b.c. ; yet the history of this first book is brought down to b.c. , that is, to the death of saul, which was not till four years after the death of samuel. the second book of samuel begins with an account of things that did not happen till four years after samuel was dead; for it begins with the reign of david, who succeeded saul, and it goes on to the end of david's reign, which was forty-three years after the death of samuel; and, therefore, the books are in themselves positive evidence that they were not written by samuel. i have now gone through all the books in the first part of the bible, to which the names of persons are affixed, as being the authors of those books, and which the church, styling itself the christian church, have imposed upon the world as the writings of moses, joshua and samuel; and i have detected and proved the falsehood of this imposition.--and now ye priests, of every description, who have preached and written against the former part of the 'age of reason,' what have ye to say? will ye with all this mass of evidence against you, and staring you in the face, still have the assurance to march into your pulpits, and continue to impose these books on your congregations, as the works of inspired penmen and the word of god? when it is as evident as demonstration can make truth appear, that the persons who ye say are the authors, are not the authors, and that ye know not who the authors are. what shadow of pretence have ye now to produce for continuing the blasphemous fraud? what have ye still to offer against the pure and moral religion of deism, in support of your system of falsehood, idolatry, and pretended revelation? had the cruel and murdering orders, with which the bible is filled, and the numberless torturing executions of men, women, and children, in consequence of those orders, been ascribed to some friend, whose memory you revered, you would have glowed with satisfaction at detecting the falsehood of the charge, and gloried in defending his injured fame. it is because ye are sunk in the cruelty of superstition, or feel no interest in the honour of your creator, that ye listen to the horrid tales of the bible, or hear them with callous indifference. the evidence i have produced, and shall still produce in the course of this work, to prove that the bible is without authority, will, whilst it wounds the stubbornness of a priest, relieve and tranquillize the minds of millions: it will free them from all those hard thoughts of the almighty which priestcraft and the bible had infused into their minds, and which stood in everlasting opposition to all their ideas of his moral justice and benevolence. i come now to the two books of kings, and the two books of chronicles.--those books are altogether historical, and are chiefly confined to the lives and actions of the jewish kings, who in general were a parcel of rascals: but these are matters with which we have no more concern than we have with the roman emperors, or homer's account of the trojan war. besides which, as those books are anonymous, and as we know nothing of the writer, or of his character, it is impossible for us to know what degree of credit to give to the matters related therein. like all other ancient histories, they appear to be a jumble of fable and of fact, and of probable and of improbable things, but which distance of time and place, and change of circumstances in the world, have rendered obsolete and uninteresting. the chief use i shall make of those books will be that of comparing them with each other, and with other parts of the bible, to show the confusion, contradiction, and cruelty in this pretended word of god. the first book of kings begins with the reign of solomon, which, according to the bible chronology, was b.c. ; and the second book ends b.c. , being a little after the reign of zedekiah, whom nebuchadnezzar, after taking jerusalem and conquering the jews, carried captive to babylon. the two books include a space of years. the two books of chronicles are an history of the same times, and in general of the same persons, by another author; for it would be absurd to suppose that the same author wrote the history twice over. the first book of chronicles (after giving the genealogy from adam to saul, which takes up the first nine chapters) begins with the reign of david; and the last book ends, as in the last book of kings, soon, after the reign of zedekiah, about b.c. . the last two verses of the last chapter bring the history years more forward, that is, to . but these verses do not belong to the book, as i shall show when i come to speak of the book of ezra. the two books of kings, besides the history of saul, david, and solomon, who reigned over all israel, contain an abstract of the lives of seventeen kings, and one queen, who are stiled kings of judah; and of nineteen, who are stiled kings of israel; for the jewish nation, immediately on the death of solomon, split into two parties, who chose separate kings, and who carried on most rancorous wars against each other. these two books are little more than a history of assassinations, treachery, and wars. the cruelties that the jews had accustomed themselves to practise on the canaanites, whose country they had savagely invaded, under a pretended gift from god, they afterwards practised as furiously on each other. scarcely half their kings died a natural death, and in some instances whole families were destroyed to secure possession to the successor, who, after a few years, and sometimes only a few months, or less, shared the same fate. in kings x., an account is given of two baskets full of children's heads, seventy in number, being exposed at the entrance of the city; they were the children of ahab, and were murdered by the orders of jehu, whom elisha, the pretended man of god, had anointed to be king over israel, on purpose to commit this bloody deed, and assassinate his predecessor. and in the account of the reign of menahem, one of the kings of israel who had murdered shallum, who had reigned but one month, it is said, kings xv. , that menahem smote the city of tiphsah, because they opened not the city to him, and all the women therein that were with child he ripped up. could we permit ourselves to suppose that the almighty would distinguish any nation of people by the name of his chosen people, we must suppose that people to have been an example to all the rest of the world of the purest piety and humanity, and not such a nation of ruffians and cut-throats as the ancient jews were,--a people who, corrupted by and copying after such monsters and imposters as moses and aaron, joshua, samuel, and david, had distinguished themselves above all others on the face of the known earth for barbarity and wickedness. if we will not stubbornly shut our eyes and steel our hearts it is impossible not to see, in spite of all that long-established superstition imposes upon the mind, that the flattering appellation of his chosen people is no other than a lie which the priests and leaders of the jews had invented to cover the baseness of their own characters; and which christian priests sometimes as corrupt, and often as cruel, have professed to believe. the two books of chronicles are a repetition of the same crimes; but the history is broken in several places, by the author leaving out the reign of some of their kings; and in this, as well as in that of kings, there is such a frequent transition from kings of judah to kings of israel, and from kings of israel to kings of judah, that the narrative is obscure in the reading. in the same book the history sometimes contradicts itself: for example, in kings, i. , we are told, but in rather ambiguous terms, that after the death of ahaziah, king of israel, jehoram, or joram, (who was of the house of ahab), reigned in his stead in the second year of jehoram, or joram, son of jehoshaphat, king of judah; and in viii. , of the same book, it is said, "and in the fifth year of joram, the son of ahab, king of israel, jehoshaphat being then king of judah, jehoram, the son of jehoshaphat king of judah, began to reign." that is, one chapter says joram of judah began to reign in the second year of joram of israel; and the other chapter says, that joram of israel began to reign in the fifth year of joram of judah. several of the most extraordinary matters related in one history, as having happened during the reign of such or such of their kings, are not to be found in the other, in relating the reign of the same king: for example, the two first rival kings, after the death of solomon, were rehoboam and jeroboam; and in i kings xii. and xiii. an account is given of jeroboam making an offering of burnt incense, and that a man, who is there called a man of god, cried out against the altar (xiii. ): "o altar, altar! thus saith the lord: behold, a child shall be born unto the house of david, josiah by name, and upon thee shall he offer the priests of the high places that burn incense upon thee, and men's bones shall be burned upon thee." verse : "and it came to pass, when king jeroboam heard the saying of the man of god, which had cried against the altar in bethel, that he put forth his hand from the altar, saying, lay hold on him; and his hand which he put out against him dried up so that he could not pull it again to him." one would think that such an extraordinary case as this, (which is spoken of as a judgement,) happening to the chief of one of the parties, and that at the first moment of the separation of the israelites into two nations, would, if it,. had been true, have been recorded in both histories. but though men, in later times, have believed all that the prophets have said unto them, it does appear that those prophets, or historians, disbelieved each other: they knew each other too well. a long account also is given in kings about elijah. it runs through several chapters, and concludes with telling, kings ii. , "and it came to pass, as they (elijah and elisha) still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder, and elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven." hum! this the author of chronicles, miraculous as the story is, makes no mention of, though he mentions elijah by name; neither does he say anything of the story related in the second chapter of the same book of kings, of a parcel of children calling elisha bald head; and that this man of god (ver. ) "turned back, and looked upon them, and cursed them in the name of the lord; and there came forth two she-bears out of the wood, and tare forty and two children of them." he also passes over in silence the story told, kings xiii., that when they were burying a man in the sepulchre where elisha had been buried, it happened that the dead man, as they were letting him down, (ver. ) "touched the bones of elisha, and he (the dead man) revived, and stood up on his feet." the story does not tell us whether they buried the man, notwithstanding he revived and stood upon his feet, or drew him up again. upon all these stories the writer of the chronicles is as silent as any writer of the present day, who did not chose to be accused of lying, or at least of romancing, would be about stories of the same kind. but, however these two historians may differ from each other with respect to the tales related by either, they are silent alike with respect to those men styled prophets whose writings fill up the latter part of the bible. isaiah, who lived in the time of hezekiab, is mentioned in kings, and again in chronicles, when these histories are speaking of that reign; but except in one or two instances at most, and those very slightly, none of the rest are so much as spoken of, or even their existence hinted at; though, according to the bible chronology, they lived within the time those histories were written; and some of them long before. if those prophets, as they are called, were men of such importance in their day, as the compilers of the bible, and priests and commentators have since represented them to be, how can it be accounted for that not one of those histories should say anything about them? the history in the books of kings and of chronicles is brought forward, as i have already said, to the year b.c. ; it will, therefore, be proper to examine which of these prophets lived before that period. here follows a table of all the prophets, with the times in which they lived before christ, according to the chronology affixed to the first chapter of each of the books of the prophets; and also of the number of years they lived before the books of kings and chronicles were written: table of the prophets, with the time in which they lived before christ, and also before the books of kings and chronicles were written: years years before names. before kings and observations. christ. chronicles. isaiah............... mentioned. (mentioned only in jeremiah............. the last [two] chapters of chronicles. ezekiel.............. not mentioned. daniel............... not mentioned. hosea................ not mentioned. joel................. not mentioned. amos................. not mentioned. obadiah.............. not mentioned. jonah................ see the note. micah................ not mentioned. nahum................ not mentioned. habakkuk............. not mentioned. zepbaniah............ not mentioned. haggai zechariah all three after the year medachi [note in kings xiv. , the name of jonah is mentioned on account of the restoration of a tract of land by jeroboam; but nothing further is said of him, nor is any allusion made to the book of jonah, nor to his expedition to nineveh, nor to his encounter with the whale.--author.] this table is either not very honourable for the bible historians, or not very honourable for the bible prophets; and i leave to priests and commentators, who are very learned in little things, to settle the point of etiquette between the two; and to assign a reason, why the authors of kings and of chronicles have treated those prophets, whom, in the former part of the 'age of reason,' i have considered as poets, with as much degrading silence as any historian of the present day would treat peter pindar. i have one more observation to make on the book of chronicles; after which i shall pass on to review the remaining books of the bible. in my observations on the book of genesis, i have quoted a passage from xxxvi. , which evidently refers to a time, after that kings began to reign over the children of israel; and i have shown that as this verse is verbatim the same as in chronicles i. , where it stands consistently with the order of history, which in genesis it does not, that the verse in genesis, and a great part of the th chapter, have been taken from chronicles; and that the book of genesis, though it is placed first in the bible, and ascribed to moses, has been manufactured by some unknown person, after the book of chronicles was written, which was not until at least eight hundred and sixty years after the time of moses. the evidence i proceed by to substantiate this, is regular, and has in it but two stages. first, as i have already stated, that the passage in genesis refers itself for time to chronicles; secondly, that the book of chronicles, to which this passage refers itself, was not begun to be written until at least eight hundred and sixty years after the time of moses. to prove this, we have only to look into chronicles iii. , where the writer, in giving the genealogy of the descendants of david, mentions zedekiah; and it was in the time of zedekiah that nebuchadnezzar conquered jerusalem, b.c. , and consequently more than years after moses. those who have superstitiously boasted of the antiquity of the bible, and particularly of the books ascribed to moses, have done it without examination, and without any other authority than that of one credulous man telling it to another: for, so far as historical and chronological evidence applies, the very first book in the bible is not so ancient as the book of homer, by more than three hundred years, and is about the same age with aesop's fables. i am not contending for the morality of homer; on the contrary, i think it a book of false glory, and tending to inspire immoral and mischievous notions of honour; and with respect to aesop, though the moral is in general just, the fable is often cruel; and the cruelty of the fable does more injury to the heart, especially in a child, than the moral does good to the judgment. having now dismissed kings and chronicles, i come to the next in course, the book of ezra. as one proof, among others i shall produce to shew the disorder in which this pretended word of god, the bible, has been put together, and the uncertainty of who the authors were, we have only to look at the first three verses in ezra, and the last two in chronicles; for by what kind of cutting and shuffling has it been that the first three verses in ezra should be the last two verses in chronicles, or that the last two in chronicles should be the first three in ezra? either the authors did not know their own works or the compilers did not know the authors. last two verses of chronicles. ver. . now in the first year of cyrus, king of persia, that the word of the lord, spoken by the mouth of jeremiah, might be accomplished, the lord stirred up the spirit of cyrus, king of persia, that he made a proclamation throughout all his kingdom, and put it also in writing, saying. earth hath the lord god of heaven given me; and he hath charged me to build him an house in jerusalem which is in judah. who is there among you of all his people? the lord his god be with him, and let him go up. *** first three verses of ezra. ver. . now in the first year of cyrus, king of persia, that the word of the lord, by the mouth of jeremiah, might be fulfilled, the lord stirred up the spirit of cyrus, king of persia, that he made a proclamation throughout all his kingdom, and put it also in writing, saying. . thus saith cyrus, king of persia, the lord god of heaven hath given me all the kingdoms of the earth; and he hath charged me to build him an house at jerusalem, which is in judah. . who is there among you of all his people? his god be with him, and let him go up to jerusalem, which is in judah, and build the house of the lord god of israel (he is the god) which is in jerusalem. *** the last verse in chronicles is broken abruptly, and ends in the middle of the phrase with the word 'up' without signifying to what place. this abrupt break, and the appearance of the same verses in different books, show as i have already said, the disorder and ignorance in which the bible has been put together, and that the compilers of it had no authority for what they were doing, nor we any authority for believing what they have done. [note i observed, as i passed along, several broken and senseless passages in the bible, without thinking them of consequence enough to be introduced in the body of the work; such as that, samuel xiii. , where it is said, "saul reigned one year; and when he had reigned two years over israel, saul chose him three thousand men," &c. the first part of the verse, that saul reigned one year has no sense, since it does not tell us what saul did, nor say any thing of what happened at the end of that one year; and it is, besides, mere absurdity to say he reigned one year, when the very next phrase says he had reigned two for if he had reigned two, it was impossible not to have reigned one. another instance occurs in joshua v. where the writer tells us a story of an angel (for such the table of contents at the head of the chapter calls him) appearing unto joshua; and the story ends abruptly, and without any conclusion. the story is as follows:--ver. . "and it came to pass, when joshua was by jericho, that he lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold there stood a man over against him with his sword drawn in his hand; and joshua went unto him and said unto him, art thou for us, or for our adversaries?" verse , "and he said, nay; but as captain of the host of the lord am i now come. and joshua fell on his face to the earth, and did worship and said unto him, what saith my lord unto his servant?" verse , "and the captain of the lord's host said unto joshua, loose thy shoe from off thy foot; for the place whereon thou standeth is holy. and joshua did so."--and what then? nothing: for here the story ends, and the chapter too. either this story is broken off in the middle, or it is a story told by some jewish humourist in ridicule of joshua's pretended mission from god, and the compilers of the bible, not perceiving the design of the story, have told it as a serious matter. as a story of humour and ridicule it has a great deal of point; for it pompously introduces an angel in the figure of a man, with a drawn sword in his hand, before whom joshua falls on his face to the earth, and worships (which is contrary to their second commandment;) and then, this most important embassy from heaven ends in telling joshua to pull off his shoe. it might as well have told him to pull up his breeches. it is certain, however, that the jews did not credit every thing their leaders told them, as appears from the cavalier manner in which they speak of moses, when he was gone into the mount. as for this moses, say they, we wot not what is become of him. exod. xxxii. .--author. the only thing that has any appearance of certainty in the book of ezra is the time in which it was written, which was immediately after the return of the jews from the babylonian captivity, about b.c. . ezra (who, according to the jewish commentators, is the same person as is called esdras in the apocrypha) was one of the persons who returned, and who, it is probable, wrote the account of that affair. nebemiah, whose book follows next to ezra, was another of the returned persons; and who, it is also probable, wrote the account of the same affair, in the book that bears his name. but those accounts are nothing to us, nor to any other person, unless it be to the jews, as a part of the history of their nation; and there is just as much of the word of god in those books as there is in any of the histories of france, or rapin's history of england, or the history of any other country. but even in matters of historical record, neither of those writers are to be depended upon. in ezra ii., the writer gives a list of the tribes and families, and of the precise number of souls of each, that returned from babylon to jerusalem; and this enrolment of the persons so returned appears to have been one of the principal objects for writing the book; but in this there is an error that destroys the intention of the undertaking. the writer begins his enrolment in the following manner (ii. ): "the children of parosh, two thousand one hundred seventy and four." ver. , "the children of shephatiah, three hundred seventy and two." and in this manner he proceeds through all the families; and in the th verse, he makes a total, and says, the whole congregation together was forty and two thousand three hundred and threescore. but whoever will take the trouble of casting up the several particulars, will find that the total is but , ; so that the error is , . what certainty then can there be in the bible for any thing? [here mr. paine includes the long list of numbers from the bible of all the children listed and the total thereof. this can be had directly from the bible.] nehemiah, in like manner, gives a list of the returned families, and of the number of each family. he begins as in ezra, by saying (vii. ): "the children of parosh, two thousand three hundred and seventy-two;" and so on through all the families. (the list differs in several of the particulars from that of ezra.) in ver. , nehemiah makes a total, and says, as ezra had said, "the whole congregation together was forty and two thousand three hundred and threescore." but the particulars of this list make a total but of , , so that the error here is , . these writers may do well enough for bible-makers, but not for any thing where truth and exactness is necessary. the next book in course is the book of esther. if madam esther thought it any honour to offer herself as a kept mistress to ahasuerus, or as a rival to queen vashti, who had refused to come to a drunken king in the midst of a drunken company, to be made a show of, (for the account says, they had been drinking seven days, and were merry,) let esther and mordecai look to that, it is no business of ours, at least it is none of mine; besides which, the story has a great deal the appearance of being fabulous, and is also anonymous. i pass on to the book of job. the book of job differs in character from all the books we have hitherto passed over. treachery and murder make no part of this book; it is the meditations of a mind strongly impressed with the vicissitudes of human life, and by turns sinking under, and struggling against the pressure. it is a highly wrought composition, between willing submission and involuntary discontent; and shows man, as he sometimes is, more disposed to be resigned than he is capable of being. patience has but a small share in the character of the person of whom the book treats; on the contrary, his grief is often impetuous; but he still endeavours to keep a guard upon it, and seems determined, in the midst of accumulating ills, to impose upon himself the hard duty of contentment. i have spoken in a respectful manner of the book of job in the former part of the 'age of reason,' but without knowing at that time what i have learned since; which is, that from all the evidence that can be collected, the book of job does not belong to the bible. i have seen the opinion of two hebrew commentators, abenezra and spinoza, upon this subject; they both say that the book of job carries no internal evidence of being an hebrew book; that the genius of the composition, and the drama of the piece, are not hebrew; that it has been translated from another language into hebrew, and that the author of the book was a gentile; that the character represented under the name of satan (which is the first and only time this name is mentioned in the bible) [in a later work paine notes that in "the bible" (by which he always means the old testament alone) the word satan occurs also in chron. xxi. , and remarks that the action there ascribed to satan is in sam. xxiv. , attributed to jehovah ("essay on dreams"). in these places, however, and in ps. cix. , satan means "adversary," and is so translated (a.s. version) in sam. xix. , and kings v. , xi. . as a proper name, with the article, satan appears in the old testament only in job and in zech. iii. , . but the authenticity of the passage in zechariah has been questioned, and it may be that in finding the proper name of satan in job alone, paine was following some opinion met with in one of the authorities whose comments are condensed in his paragraph.--editor.] does not correspond to any hebrew idea; and that the two convocations which the deity is supposed to have made of those whom the poem calls sons of god, and the familiarity which this supposed satan is stated to have with the deity, are in the same case. it may also be observed, that the book shows itself to be the production of a mind cultivated in science, which the jews, so far from being famous for, were very ignorant of. the allusions to objects of natural philosophy are frequent and strong, and are of a different cast to any thing in the books known to be hebrew. the astronomical names, pleiades, orion, and arcturus, are greek and not hebrew names, and it does not appear from any thing that is to be found in the bible that the jews knew any thing of astronomy, or that they studied it, they had no translation of those names into their own language, but adopted the names as they found them in the poem. [paine's jewish critic, david levi, fastened on this slip ("defence of the old testament," , p. ). in the original the names are ash (arcturus), kesil' (orion), kimah' (pleiades), though the identifications of the constellations in the a.s.v. have been questioned.--editor.] that the jews did translate the literary productions of the gentile nations into the hebrew language, and mix them with their own, is not a matter of doubt; proverbs xxxi. i, is an evidence of this: it is there said, the word of king lemuel, the prophecy which his mother taught him. this verse stands as a preface to the proverbs that follow, and which are not the proverbs of solomon, but of lemuel; and this lemuel was not one of the kings of israel, nor of judah, but of some other country, and consequently a gentile. the jews however have adopted his proverbs; and as they cannot give any account who the author of the book of job was, nor how they came by the book, and as it differs in character from the hebrew writings, and stands totally unconnected with every other book and chapter in the bible before it and after it, it has all the circumstantial evidence of being originally a book of the gentiles. [the prayer known by the name of agur's prayer, in proverbs xxx.,--immediately preceding the proverbs of lemuel,--and which is the only sensible, well-conceived, and well-expressed prayer in the bible, has much the appearance of being a prayer taken from the gentiles. the name of agur occurs on no other occasion than this; and he is introduced, together with the prayer ascribed to him, in the same manner, and nearly in the same words, that lemuel and his proverbs are introduced in the chapter that follows. the first verse says, "the words of agur, the son of jakeh, even the prophecy:" here the word prophecy is used with the same application it has in the following chapter of lemuel, unconnected with anything of prediction. the prayer of agur is in the th and th verses, "remove far from me vanity and lies; give me neither riches nor poverty, but feed me with food convenient for me; lest i be full and deny thee and say, who is the lord? or lest i be poor and steal, and take the name of my god in vain." this has not any of the marks of being a jewish prayer, for the jews never prayed but when they were in trouble, and never for anything but victory, vengeance, or riches.--author. (prov. xxx. , and xxxi. ) the word "prophecy" in these verses is translated "oracle" or "burden" (marg.) in the revised version.--the prayer of agur was quoted by paine in his plea for the officers of excise, .--editor.] the bible-makers, and those regulators of time, the bible chronologists, appear to have been at a loss where to place and how to dispose of the book of job; for it contains no one historical circumstance, nor allusion to any, that might serve to determine its place in the bible. but it would not have answered the purpose of these men to have informed the world of their ignorance; and, therefore, they have affixed it to the aera of b.c. , which is during the time the israelites were in egypt, and for which they have just as much authority and no more than i should have for saying it was a thousand years before that period. the probability however is, that it is older than any book in the bible; and it is the only one that can be read without indignation or disgust. we know nothing of what the ancient gentile world (as it is called) was before the time of the jews, whose practice has been to calumniate and blacken the character of all other nations; and it is from the jewish accounts that we have learned to call them heathens. but, as far as we know to the contrary, they were a just and moral people, and not addicted, like the jews, to cruelty and revenge, but of whose profession of faith we are unacquainted. it appears to have been their custom to personify both virtue and vice by statues and images, as is done now-a-days both by statuary and by painting; but it does not follow from this that they worshipped them any more than we do.--i pass on to the book of, psalms, of which it is not necessary to make much observation. some of them are moral, and others are very revengeful; and the greater part relates to certain local circumstances of the jewish nation at the time they were written, with which we have nothing to do. it is, however, an error or an imposition to call them the psalms of david; they are a collection, as song-books are now-a-days, from different song-writers, who lived at different times. the th psalm could not have been written till more than years after the time of david, because it is written in commemoration of an event, the captivity of the jews in babylon, which did not happen till that distance of time. "by the rivers of babylon we sat down; yea, we wept when we remembered zion. we hanged our harps upon the willows, in the midst thereof; for there they that carried us away captive required of us a song, saying, sing us one of the songs of zion." as a man would say to an american, or to a frenchman, or to an englishman, sing us one of your american songs, or your french songs, or your english songs. this remark, with respect to the time this psalm was written, is of no other use than to show (among others already mentioned) the general imposition the world has been under with respect to the authors of the bible. no regard has been paid to time, place, and circumstance; and the names of persons have been affixed to the several books which it was as impossible they should write, as that a man should walk in procession at his own funeral. the book of proverbs. these, like the psalms, are a collection, and that from authors belonging to other nations than those of the jewish nation, as i have shewn in the observations upon the book of job; besides which, some of the proverbs ascribed to solomon did not appear till two hundred and fifty years after the death of solomon; for it is said in xxv. i, "these are also proverbs of solomon which the men of hezekiah, king of judah, copied out." it was two hundred and fifty years from the time of solomon to the time of hezekiah. when a man is famous and his name is abroad he is made the putative father of things he never said or did; and this, most probably, has been the case with solomon. it appears to have been the fashion of that day to make proverbs, as it is now to make jest-books, and father them upon those who never saw them. [a "tom paine's jest book" had appeared in london with little or nothing of paine in it.--editor.] the book of ecclesiastes, or the preacher, is also ascribed to solomon, and that with much reason, if not with truth. it is written as the solitary reflections of a worn-out debauchee, such as solomon was, who looking back on scenes he can no longer enjoy, cries out all is vanity! a great deal of the metaphor and of the sentiment is obscure, most probably by translation; but enough is left to show they were strongly pointed in the original. [those that look out of the window shall be darkened, is an obscure figure in translation for loss of sight.--author.] from what is transmitted to us of the character of solomon, he was witty, ostentatious, dissolute, and at last melancholy. he lived fast, and died, tired of the world, at the age of fifty-eight years. seven hundred wives, and three hundred concubines, are worse than none; and, however it may carry with it the appearance of heightened enjoyment, it defeats all the felicity of affection, by leaving it no point to fix upon; divided love is never happy. this was the case with solomon; and if he could not, with all his pretensions to wisdom, discover it beforehand, he merited, unpitied, the mortification he afterwards endured. in this point of view, his preaching is unnecessary, because, to know the consequences, it is only necessary to know the cause. seven hundred wives, and three hundred concubines would have stood in place of the whole book. it was needless after this to say that all was vanity and vexation of spirit; for it is impossible to derive happiness from the company of those whom we deprive of happiness. to be happy in old age it is necessary that we accustom ourselves to objects that can accompany the mind all the way through life, and that we take the rest as good in their day. the mere man of pleasure is miserable in old age; and the mere drudge in business is but little better: whereas, natural philosophy, mathematical and mechanical science, are a continual source of tranquil pleasure, and in spite of the gloomy dogmas of priests, and of superstition, the study of those things is the study of the true theology; it teaches man to know and to admire the creator, for the principles of science are in the creation, and are unchangeable, and of divine origin. those who knew benjamin franklin will recollect, that his mind was ever young; his temper ever serene; science, that never grows grey, was always his mistress. he was never without an object; for when we cease to have an object we become like an invalid in an hospital waiting for death. solomon's songs, amorous and foolish enough, but which wrinkled fanaticism has called divine.--the compilers of the bible have placed these songs after the book of ecclesiastes; and the chronologists have affixed to them the aera of b.c. , at which time solomon, according to the same chronology, was nineteen years of age, and was then forming his seraglio of wives and concubines. the bible-makers and the chronologists should have managed this matter a little better, and either have said nothing about the time, or chosen a time less inconsistent with the supposed divinity of those songs; for solomon was then in the honey-moon of one thousand debaucheries. it should also have occurred to them, that as he wrote, if he did write, the book of ecclesiastes, long after these songs, and in which he exclaims that all is vanity and vexation of spirit, that he included those songs in that description. this is the more probable, because he says, or somebody for him, ecclesiastes ii. , i got me men-singers, and women-singers [most probably to sing those songs], and musical instruments of all sorts; and behold (ver. ii), "all was vanity and vexation of spirit." the compilers however have done their work but by halves; for as they have given us the songs they should have given us the tunes, that we might sing them. the books called the books of the prophets fill up all the remaining part of the bible; they are sixteen in number, beginning with isaiah and ending with malachi, of which i have given a list in the observations upon chronicles. of these sixteen prophets, all of whom except the last three lived within the time the books of kings and chronicles were written, two only, isaiah and jeremiah, are mentioned in the history of those books. i shall begin with those two, reserving, what i have to say on the general character of the men called prophets to another part of the work. whoever will take the trouble of reading the book ascribed to isaiah, will find it one of the most wild and disorderly compositions ever put together; it has neither beginning, middle, nor end; and, except a short historical part, and a few sketches of history in the first two or three chapters, is one continued incoherent, bombastical rant, full of extravagant metaphor, without application, and destitute of meaning; a school-boy would scarcely have been excusable for writing such stuff; it is (at least in translation) that kind of composition and false taste that is properly called prose run mad. the historical part begins at chapter xxxvi., and is continued to the end of chapter xxxix. it relates some matters that are said to have passed during the reign of hezekiah, king of judah, at which time isaiah lived. this fragment of history begins and ends abruptly; it has not the least connection with the chapter that precedes it, nor with that which follows it, nor with any other in the book. it is probable that isaiah wrote this fragment himself, because he was an actor in the circumstances it treats of; but except this part there are scarcely two chapters that have any connection with each other. one is entitled, at the beginning of the first verse, the burden of babylon; another, the burden of moab; another, the burden of damascus; another, the burden of egypt; another, the burden of the desert of the sea; another, the burden of the valley of vision: as you would say the story of the knight of the burning mountain, the story of cinderella, or the glassen slipper, the story of the sleeping beauty in the wood, etc., etc. i have already shown, in the instance of the last two verses of chronicles, and the first three in ezra, that the compilers of the bible mixed and confounded the writings of different authors with each other; which alone, were there no other cause, is sufficient to destroy the authenticity of an compilation, because it is more than presumptive evidence that the compilers are ignorant who the authors were. a very glaring instance of this occurs in the book ascribed to isaiah: the latter part of the th chapter, and the beginning of the th, so far from having been written by isaiah, could only have been written by some person who lived at least an hundred and fifty years after isaiah was dead. these chapters are a compliment to cyrus, who permitted the jews to return to jerusalem from the babylonian captivity, to rebuild jerusalem and the temple, as is stated in ezra. the last verse of the th chapter, and the beginning of the th [isaiah] are in the following words: "that saith of cyrus, he is my shepherd, and shall perform all my pleasure; even saying to jerusalem, thou shalt be built; and to the temple thy foundations shall be laid: thus saith the lord to his enointed, to cyrus, whose right hand i have holden to subdue nations before him, and i will loose the loins of kings to open before him the two-leaved gates, and the gates shall not be shut; i will go before thee," etc. what audacity of church and priestly ignorance it is to impose this book upon the world as the writing of isaiah, when isaiah, according to their own chronology, died soon after the death of hezekiah, which was b.c. ; and the decree of cyrus, in favour of the jews returning to jerusalem, was, according to the same chronology, b.c. ; which is a distance of time between the two of years. i do not suppose that the compilers of the bible made these books, but rather that they picked up some loose, anonymous essays, and put them together under the names of such authors as best suited their purpose. they have encouraged the imposition, which is next to inventing it; for it was impossible but they must have observed it. when we see the studied craft of the scripture-makers, in making every part of this romantic book of school-boy's eloquence bend to the monstrous idea of a son of god, begotten by a ghost on the body of a virgin, there is no imposition we are not justified in suspecting them of. every phrase and circumstance are marked with the barbarous hand of superstitious torture, and forced into meanings it was impossible they could have. the head of every chapter, and the top of every page, are blazoned with the names of christ and the church, that the unwary reader might suck in the error before he began to read. behold a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son (isa. vii. i ), has been interpreted to mean the person called jesus christ, and his mother mary, and has been echoed through christendom for more than a thousand years; and such has been the rage of this opinion, that scarcely a spot in it but has been stained with blood and marked with desolation in consequence of it. though it is not my intention to enter into controversy on subjects of this kind, but to confine myself to show that the bible is spurious,--and thus, by taking away the foundation, to overthrow at once the whole structure of superstition raised thereon,--i will however stop a moment to expose the fallacious application of this passage. whether isaiah was playing a trick with ahaz, king of judah, to whom this passage is spoken, is no business of mine; i mean only to show the misapplication of the passage, and that it has no more reference to christ and his mother, than it has to me and my mother. the story is simply this: the king of syria and the king of israel (i have already mentioned that the jews were split into two nations, one of which was called judah, the capital of which was jerusalem, and the other israel) made war jointly against ahaz, king of judah, and marched their armies towards jerusalem. ahaz and his people became alarmed, and the account says (is. vii. ), their hearts were moved as the trees of the wood are moved with the wind. in this situation of things, isaiah addresses himself to ahaz, and assures him in the name of the lord (the cant phrase of all the prophets) that these two kings should not succeed against him; and to satisfy ahaz that this should be the case, tells him to ask a sign. this, the account says, ahaz declined doing; giving as a reason that he would not tempt the lord; upon which isaiah, who is the speaker, says, ver. , "therefore the lord himself shall give you a sign; behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son;" and the th verse says, "and before this child shall know to refuse the evil, and choose the good, the land which thou abhorrest or dreadest [meaning syria and the kingdom of israel] shall be forsaken of both her kings." here then was the sign, and the time limited for the completion of the assurance or promise; namely, before this child shall know to refuse the evil and choose the good. isaiah having committed himself thus far, it became necessary to him, in order to avoid the imputation of being a false prophet, and the consequences thereof, to take measures to make this sign appear. it certainly was not a difficult thing, in any time of the world, to find a girl with child, or to make her so; and perhaps isaiah knew of one beforehand; for i do not suppose that the prophets of that day were any more to be trusted than the priests of this: be that, however, as it may, he says in the next chapter, ver. , "and i took unto me faithful witnesses to record, uriah the priest, and zechariah the son of jeberechiah, and i went unto the prophetess, and she conceived and bare a son." here then is the whole story, foolish as it is, of this child and this virgin; and it is upon the barefaced perversion of this story that the book of matthew, and the impudence and sordid interest of priests in later times, have founded a theory, which they call the gospel; and have applied this story to signify the person they call jesus christ; begotten, they say, by a ghost, whom they call holy, on the body of a woman engaged in marriage, and afterwards married, whom they call a virgin, seven hundred years after this foolish story was told; a theory which, speaking for myself, i hesitate not to believe, and to say, is as fabulous and as false as god is true. [in is. vii. , it is said that the child should be called immanuel; but this name was not given to either of the children, otherwise than as a character, which the word signifies. that of the prophetess was called maher-shalalhash-baz, and that of mary was called jesus.--author.] but to show the imposition and falsehood of isaiah we have only to attend to the sequel of this story; which, though it is passed over in silence in the book of isaiah, is related in chronicles, xxviii; and which is, that instead of these two kings failing in their attempt against ahaz, king of judah, as isaiah had pretended to foretel in the name of the lord, they succeeded: ahaz was defeated and destroyed; an hundred and twenty thousand of his people were slaughtered; jerusalem was plundered, and two hundred thousand women and sons and daughters carried into captivity. thus much for this lying prophet and imposter isaiah, and the book of falsehoods that bears his name. i pass on to the book of jeremiah. this prophet, as he is called, lived in the time that nebuchadnezzar besieged jerusalem, in the reign of zedekiah, the last king of judah; and the suspicion was strong against him that he was a traitor in the interest of nebuchadnezzar. every thing relating to jeremiah shows him to have been a man of an equivocal character: in his metaphor of the potter and the clay, (ch. xviii.) he guards his prognostications in such a crafty manner as always to leave himself a door to escape by, in case the event should be contrary to what he had predicted. in the th and th verses he makes the almighty to say, "at what instant i shall speak concerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom, to pluck up, and to pull down, and destroy it, if that nation, against whom i have pronounced, turn from their evil, i will repent me of the evil that i thought to do unto them." here was a proviso against one side of the case: now for the other side. verses and , "at what instant i shall speak concerning a nation, and concerning a kingdom, to build and to plant it, if it do evil in my sight, that it obey not my voice, then i will repent me of the good wherewith i said i would benefit them." here is a proviso against the other side; and, according to this plan of prophesying, a prophet could never be wrong, however mistaken the almighty might be. this sort of absurd subterfuge, and this manner of speaking of the almighty, as one would speak of a man, is consistent with nothing but the stupidity of the bible. as to the authenticity of the book, it is only necessary to read it in order to decide positively that, though some passages recorded therein may have been spoken by jeremiah, he is not the author of the book. the historical parts, if they can be called by that name, are in the most confused condition; the same events are several times repeated, and that in a manner different, and sometimes in contradiction to each other; and this disorder runs even to the last chapter, where the history, upon which the greater part of the book has been employed, begins anew, and ends abruptly. the book has all the appearance of being a medley of unconnected anecdotes respecting persons and things of that time, collected together in the same rude manner as if the various and contradictory accounts that are to be found in a bundle of newspapers, respecting persons and things of the present day, were put together without date, order, or explanation. i will give two or three examples of this kind. it appears, from the account of chapter xxxvii. that the army of nebuchadnezzer, which is called the army of the chaldeans, had besieged jerusalem some time; and on their hearing that the army of pharaoh of egypt was marching against them, they raised the siege and retreated for a time. it may here be proper to mention, in order to understand this confused history, that nebuchadnezzar had besieged and taken jerusalem during the reign of jehoakim, the redecessor of zedekiah; and that it was nebuchadnezzar who had make zedekiah king, or rather viceroy; and that this second siege, of which the book of jeremiah treats, was in consequence of the revolt of zedekiah against nebuchadnezzar. this will in some measure account for the suspicion that affixes itself to jeremiah of being a traitor, and in the interest of nebuchadnezzar,--whom jeremiah calls, xliii. , the servant of god. chapter xxxvii. - , says, "and it came to pass, that, when the army of the chaldeans was broken up from jerusalem, for fear of pharaoh's army, that jeremiah went forth out of jerusalem, to go (as this account states) into the land of benjamin, to separate himself thence in the midst of the people; and when he was in the gate of benjamin a captain of the ward was there, whose name was irijah... and he took jeremiah the prophet, saying, thou fallest away to the chaldeans; then jeremiah said, it is false; i fall not away to the chaldeans." jeremiah being thus stopt and accused, was, after being examined, committed to prison, on suspicion of being a traitor, where he remained, as is stated in the last verse of this chapter. but the next chapter gives an account of the imprisonment of jeremiah, which has no connection with this account, but ascribes his imprisonment to another circumstance, and for which we must go back to chapter xxi. it is there stated, ver. , that zedekiah sent pashur the son of malchiah, and zephaniah the son of maaseiah the priest, to jeremiah, to enquire of him concerning nebuchadnezzar, whose army was then before jerusalem; and jeremiah said to them, ver. , "thus saith the lord, behold i set before you the way of life, and the way of death; he that abideth in this city shall die by the sword and by the famine, and by the pestilence; but he that goeth out and falleth to the chaldeans that besiege you, he shall live, and his life shall be unto him for a prey." this interview and conference breaks off abruptly at the end of the th verse of chapter xxi.; and such is the disorder of this book that we have to pass over sixteen chapters upon various subjects, in order to come at the continuation and event of this conference; and this brings us to the first verse of chapter xxxviii., as i have just mentioned. the chapter opens with saying, "then shaphatiah, the son of mattan, gedaliah the son of pashur, and jucal the son of shelemiah, and pashur the son of malchiah, (here are more persons mentioned than in chapter xxi.) heard the words that jeremiah spoke unto all the people, saying, thus saith the lord, he that remaineth in this city, shall die by the sword, by famine, and by the pestilence; but he that goeth forth to the chaldeans shall live; for he shall have his life for a prey, and shall live"; [which are the words of the conference;] therefore, (say they to zedekiah,) "we beseech thee, let this man be put to death, for thus he weakeneth the hands of the men of war that remain in this city, and the hands of all the people, in speaking such words unto them; for this man seeketh not the welfare of the people, but the hurt:" and at the th verse it is said, "then they took jeremiah, and put him into the dungeon of malchiah." these two accounts are different and contradictory. the one ascribes his imprisonment to his attempt to escape out of the city; the other to his preaching and prophesying in the city; the one to his being seized by the guard at the gate; the other to his being accused before zedekiah by the conferees. [i observed two chapters in i samuel (xvi. and xvii.) that contradict each other with respect to david, and the manner he became acquainted with saul; as jeremiah xxxvii. and xxxviii. contradict each other with respect to the cause of jeremiah's imprisonment. in samuel, xvi., it is said, that an evil spirit of god troubled saul, and that his servants advised him (as a remedy) "to seek out a man who was a cunning player upon the harp." and saul said, ver. , "provide me now a man that can play well, and bring him to me. then answered one of his servants, and said, behold, i have seen a son of jesse, the bethlehemite, that is cunning in playing, and a mighty man, and a man of war, and prudent in matters, and a comely person, and the lord is with him; wherefore saul sent messengers unto jesse, and said, send me david, thy son. and (verse ) david came to saul, and stood before him, and he loved him greatly, and he became his armour-bearer; and when the evil spirit from god was upon saul, (verse ) david took his harp, and played with his hand, and saul was refreshed, and was well." but the next chapter (xvii.) gives an account, all different to this, of the manner that saul and david became acquainted. here it is ascribed to david's encounter with goliah, when david was sent by his father to carry provision to his brethren in the camp. in the th verse of this chapter it is said, "and when saul saw david go forth against the philistine (goliah) he said to abner, the captain of the host, abner, whose son is this youth? and abner said, as thy soul liveth, king, i cannot tell. and the king said, enquire thou whose son the stripling is. and as david returned from the slaughter of the philistine, abner took him and brought him before saul, with the head of the philistine in his hand; and saul said unto him, whose son art thou, thou young man? and david answered, i am the son of thy servant, jesse, the betblehemite," these two accounts belie each other, because each of them supposes saul and david not to have known each other before. this book, the bible, is too ridiculous for criticism.--author.] in the next chapter (jer. xxxix.) we have another instance of the disordered state of this book; for notwithstanding the siege of the city by nebuchadnezzar has been the subject of several of the preceding chapters, particularly xxxvii. and xxxviii., chapter xxxix. begins as if not a word had been said upon the subject, and as if the reader was still to be informed of every particular respecting it; for it begins with saying, ver. , "in the ninth year of zedekiah king of judah, in the tenth month, came nebuchadnezzar king of babylon, and all his army, against jerusalem, and besieged it," etc. but the instance in the last chapter (lii.) is still more glaring; for though the story has been told over and over again, this chapter still supposes the reader not to know anything of it, for it begins by saying, ver. i, "zedekiah was one and twenty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned eleven years in jerusalem, and his mother's name was hamutal, the daughter of jeremiah of libnah." (ver. ,) "and it came to pass in the ninth year of his reign, in the tenth month, that nebuchadnezzar king of babylon came, he and all his army, against jerusalem, and pitched against it, and built forts against it," etc. it is not possible that any one man, and more particularly jeremiah, could have been the writer of this book. the errors are such as could not have been committed by any person sitting down to compose a work. were i, or any other man, to write in such a disordered manner, no body would read what was written, and every body would suppose that the writer was in a state of insanity. the only way, therefore, to account for the disorder is, that the book is a medley of detached unauthenticated anecdotes, put together by some stupid book-maker, under the name of jeremiah; because many of them refer to him, and to the circumstances of the times he lived in. of the duplicity, and of the false predictions of jeremiah, i shall mention two instances, and then proceed to review the remainder of the bible. it appears from chapter xxxviii. that when jeremiah was in prison, zedekiah sent for him, and at this interview, which was private, jeremiah pressed it strongly on zedekiah to surrender himself to the enemy. "if," says he, (ver. ,) "thou wilt assuredly go forth unto the king of babylon's princes, then thy soul shall live," etc. zedekiah was apprehensive that what passed at this conference should be known; and he said to jeremiah, (ver. ,) "if the princes [meaning those of judah] hear that i have talked with thee, and they come unto thee, and say unto thee, declare unto us now what thou hast said unto the king; hide it not from us, and we will not put thee to death; and also what the king said unto thee; then thou shalt say unto them, i presented my supplication before the king that he would not cause me to return to jonathan's house, to die there. then came all the princes unto jeremiah, and asked him, and "he told them according to all the words the king had commanded." thus, this man of god, as he is called, could tell a lie, or very strongly prevaricate, when he supposed it would answer his purpose; for certainly he did not go to zedekiah to make this supplication, neither did he make it; he went because he was sent for, and he employed that opportunity to advise zedekiah to surrender himself to nebuchadnezzar. in chapter xxxiv. - , is a prophecy of jeremiah to zedekiah in these words: "thus saith the lord, behold i will give this city into the hand of the king of babylon, and he will burn it with fire; and thou shalt not escape out of his hand, but thou shalt surely be taken, and delivered into his hand; and thine eyes shall behold the eyes of the king of babylon, and he shall speak with thee mouth to mouth, and thou shalt go to babylon. yet hear the word of the lord; o zedekiah, king, of judah, thus saith the lord, thou shalt not die by the sword, but thou shalt die in peace; and with the burnings of thy fathers, the former kings that were before thee, so shall they burn odours for thee, and they will lament thee, saying, ah, lord! for i have pronounced the word, saith the lord." now, instead of zedekiah beholding the eyes of the king of babylon, and speaking with him mouth to mouth, and dying in peace, and with the burning of odours, as at the funeral of his fathers, (as jeremiah had declared the lord himself had pronounced,) the reverse, according to chapter iii., , was the case; it is there said, that the king of babylon slew the sons of zedekiah before his eyes: then he put out the eyes of zedekiah, and bound him in chains, and carried him to babylon, and put him in prison till the day of his death. what then can we say of these prophets, but that they are impostors and liars? as for jeremiah, he experienced none of those evils. he was taken into favour by nebuchadnezzar, who gave him in charge to the captain of the guard (xxxix, ), "take him (said he) and look well to him, and do him no harm; but do unto him even as he shall say unto thee." jeremiah joined himself afterwards to nebuchadnezzar, and went about prophesying for him against the egyptians, who had marched to the relief of jerusalem while it was besieged. thus much for another of the lying prophets, and the book that bears his name. i have been the more particular in treating of the books ascribed to isaiah and jeremiah, because those two are spoken of in the books of kings and chronicles, which the others are not. the remainder of the books ascribed to the men called prophets i shall not trouble myself much about; but take them collectively into the observations i shall offer on the character of the men styled prophets. in the former part of the 'age of reason,' i have said that the word prophet was the bible-word for poet, and that the flights and metaphors of jewish poets have been foolishly erected into what are now called prophecies. i am sufficiently justified in this opinion, not only because the books called the prophecies are written in poetical language, but because there is no word in the bible, except it be the word prophet, that describes what we mean by a poet. i have also said, that the word signified a performer upon musical instruments, of which i have given some instances; such as that of a company of prophets, prophesying with psalteries, with tabrets, with pipes, with harps, etc., and that saul prophesied with them, sam. x., . it appears from this passage, and from other parts in the book of samuel, that the word prophet was confined to signify poetry and music; for the person who was supposed to have a visionary insight into concealed things, was not a prophet but a seer, [i know not what is the hebrew word that corresponds to the word seer in english; but i observe it is translated into french by le voyant, from the verb voir to see, and which means the person who sees, or the seer.--author.] [the hebrew word for seer, in samuel ix., transliterated, is chozeh, the gazer, it is translated in is. xlvii. , "the stargazers."--editor.] (i sam, ix. ;) and it was not till after the word seer went out of use (which most probably was when saul banished those he called wizards) that the profession of the seer, or the art of seeing, became incorporated into the word prophet. according to the modern meaning of the word prophet and prophesying, it signifies foretelling events to a great distance of time; and it became necessary to the inventors of the gospel to give it this latitude of meaning, in order to apply or to stretch what they call the prophecies of the old testament, to the times of the new. but according to the old testament, the prophesying of the seer, and afterwards of the prophet, so far as the meaning of the word "seer" was incorporated into that of prophet, had reference only to things of the time then passing, or very closely connected with it; such as the event of a battle they were going to engage in, or of a journey, or of any enterprise they were going to undertake, or of any circumstance then pending, or of any difficulty they were then in; all of which had immediate reference to themselves (as in the case already mentioned of ahaz and isaiah with respect to the expression, behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son,) and not to any distant future time. it was that kind of prophesying that corresponds to what we call fortune-telling; such as casting nativities, predicting riches, fortunate or unfortunate marriages, conjuring for lost goods, etc.; and it is the fraud of the christian church, not that of the jews, and the ignorance and the superstition of modern, not that of ancient times, that elevated those poetical, musical, conjuring, dreaming, strolling gentry, into the rank they have since had. but, besides this general character of all the prophets, they had also a particular character. they were in parties, and they prophesied for or against, according to the party they were with; as the poetical and political writers of the present day write in defence of the party they associate with against the other. after the jews were divided into two nations, that of judah and that of israel, each party had its prophets, who abused and accused each other of being false prophets, lying prophets, impostors, etc. the prophets of the party of judah prophesied against the prophets of the party of israel; and those of the party of israel against those of judah. this party prophesying showed itself immediately on the separation under the first two rival kings, rehoboam and jeroboam. the prophet that cursed, or prophesied against the altar that jeroboam had built in bethel, was of the party of judah, where rehoboam was king; and he was way-laid on his return home by a prophet of the party of israel, who said unto him (i kings xiii.) "art thou the man of god that came from judah? and he said, i am." then the prophet of the party of israel said to him "i am a prophet also, as thou art, [signifying of judah,] and an angel spake unto me by the word of the lord, saying, bring him back with thee unto thine house, that he may eat bread and drink water; but (says the th verse) he lied unto him." the event, however, according to the story, is, that the prophet of judah never got back to judah; for he was found dead on the road by the contrivance of the prophet of israel, who no doubt was called a true prophet by his own party, and the prophet of judah a lying prophet. in kings, iii., a story is related of prophesying or conjuring that shews, in several particulars, the character of a prophet. jehoshaphat king of judah, and joram king of israel, had for a while ceased their party animosity, and entered into an alliance; and these two, together with the king of edom, engaged in a war against the king of moab. after uniting and marching their armies, the story says, they were in great distress for water, upon which jehoshaphat said, "is there not here a prophet of the lord, that we may enquire of the lord by him? and one of the servants of the king of israel said here is elisha. [elisha was of the party of judah.] and jehoshaphat the king of judah said, the word of the lord is with him." the story then says, that these three kings went down to elisha; and when elisha [who, as i have said, was a judahmite prophet] saw the king of israel, he said unto him, "what have i to do with thee, get thee to the prophets of thy father and the prophets of thy mother. nay but, said the king of israel, the lord hath called these three kings together, to deliver them into the hands of the king of moab," (meaning because of the distress they were in for water;) upon which elisha said, "as the lord of hosts liveth before whom i stand, surely, were it not that i regard the presence of jehoshaphat, king of judah, i would not look towards thee nor see thee." here is all the venom and vulgarity of a party prophet. we are now to see the performance, or manner of prophesying. ver. . "'bring me,' (said elisha), 'a minstrel'; and it came to pass, when the minstrel played, that the hand of the lord came upon him." here is the farce of the conjurer. now for the prophecy: "and elisha said, [singing most probably to the tune he was playing], thus saith the lord, make this valley full of ditches;" which was just telling them what every countryman could have told them without either fiddle or farce, that the way to get water was to dig for it. but as every conjuror is not famous alike for the same thing, so neither were those prophets; for though all of them, at least those i have spoken of, were famous for lying, some of them excelled in cursing. elisha, whom i have just mentioned, was a chief in this branch of prophesying; it was he that cursed the forty-two children in the name of the lord, whom the two she-bears came and devoured. we are to suppose that those children were of the party of israel; but as those who will curse will lie, there is just as much credit to be given to this story of elisha's two she-bears as there is to that of the dragon of wantley, of whom it is said: poor children three devoured be, that could not with him grapple; and at one sup he eat them up, as a man would eat an apple. there was another description of men called prophets, that amused themselves with dreams and visions; but whether by night or by day we know not. these, if they were not quite harmless, were but little mischievous. of this class are, ezekiel and daniel; and the first question upon these books, as upon all the others, is, are they genuine? that is, were they written by ezekiel and daniel? of this there is no proof; but so far as my own opinion goes, i am more inclined to believe they were, than that they were not. my reasons for this opinion are as follows: first, because those books do not contain internal evidence to prove they were not written by ezekiel and daniel, as the books ascribed to moses, joshua, samuel, etc., prove they were not written by moses, joshua, samuel, etc. secondly, because they were not written till after the babylonish captivity began; and there is good reason to believe that not any book in the bible was written before that period; at least it is proveable, from the books themselves, as i have already shown, that they were not written till after the commencement of the jewish monarchy. thirdly, because the manner in which the books ascribed to ezekiel and daniel are written, agrees with the condition these men were in at the time of writing them. had the numerous commentators and priests, who have foolishly employed or wasted their time in pretending to expound and unriddle those books, been carred into captivity, as ezekiel and daniel were, it would greatly have improved their intellects in comprehending the reason for this mode of writing, and have saved them the trouble of racking their invention, as they have done to no purpose; for they would have found that themselves would be obliged to write whatever they had to write, respecting their own affairs, or those of their friends, or of their country, in a concealed manner, as those men have done. these two books differ from all the rest; for it is only these that are filled with accounts of dreams and visions: and this difference arose from the situation the writers were in as prisoners of war, or prisoners of state, in a foreign country, which obliged them to convey even the most trifling information to each other, and all their political projects or opinions, in obscure and metaphorical terms. they pretend to have dreamed dreams, and seen visions, because it was unsafe for them to speak facts or plain language. we ought, however, to suppose, that the persons to whom they wrote understood what they meant, and that it was not intended anybody else should. but these busy commentators and priests have been puzzling their wits to find out what it was not intended they should know, and with which they have nothing to do. ezekiel and daniel were carried prisoners to babylon, under the first captivity, in the time of jehoiakim, nine years before the second captivity in the time of zedekiah. the jews were then still numerous, and had considerable force at jerusalem; and as it is natural to suppose that men in the situation of ezekiel and daniel would be meditating the recovery of their country, and their own deliverance, it is reasonable to suppose that the accounts of dreams and visions with which these books are filled, are no other than a disguised mode of correspondence to facilitate those objects: it served them as a cypher, or secret alphabet. if they are not this, they are tales, reveries, and nonsense; or at least a fanciful way of wearing off the wearisomeness of captivity; but the presumption is, they are the former. ezekiel begins his book by speaking of a vision of cherubims, and of a wheel within a wheel, which he says he saw by the river chebar, in the land of his captivity. is it not reasonable to suppose that by the cherubims he meant the temple at jerusalem, where they had figures of cherubims? and by a wheel within a wheel (which as a figure has always been understood to signify political contrivance) the project or means of recovering jerusalem? in the latter part of his book he supposes himself transported to jerusalem, and into the temple; and he refers back to the vision on the river chebar, and says, (xliii- ,) that this last vision was like the vision on the river chebar; which indicates that those pretended dreams and visions had for their object the recovery of jerusalem, and nothing further. as to the romantic interpretations and applications, wild as the dreams and visions they undertake to explain, which commentators and priests have made of those books, that of converting them into things which they call prophecies, and making them bend to times and circumstances as far remote even as the present day, it shows the fraud or the extreme folly to which credulity or priestcraft can go. scarcely anything can be more absurd than to suppose that men situated as ezekiel and daniel were, whose country was over-run, and in the possession of the enemy, all their friends and relations in captivity abroad, or in slavery at home, or massacred, or in continual danger of it; scarcely any thing, i say, can be more absurd than to suppose that such men should find nothing to do but that of employing their time and their thoughts about what was to happen to other nations a thousand or two thousand years after they were dead; at the same time nothing more natural than that they should meditate the recovery of jerusalem, and their own deliverance; and that this was the sole object of all the obscure and apparently frantic writing contained in those books. in this sense the mode of writing used in those two books being forced by necessity, and not adopted by choice, is not irrational; but, if we are to use the books as prophecies, they are false. in ezekiel xxix. ., speaking of egypt, it is said, "no foot of man shall pass through it, nor foot of beast pass through it; neither shall it be inhabited for forty years." this is what never came to pass, and consequently it is false, as all the books i have already reviewed are.--i here close this part of the subject. in the former part of 'the age of reason' i have spoken of jonah, and of the story of him and the whale.--a fit story for ridicule, if it was written to be believed; or of laughter, if it was intended to try what credulity could swallow; for, if it could swallow jonah and the whale it could swallow anything. but, as is already shown in the observations on the book of job and of proverbs, it is not always certain which of the books in the bible are originally hebrew, or only translations from the books of the gentiles into hebrew; and, as the book of jonah, so far from treating of the affairs of the jews, says nothing upon that subject, but treats altogether of the gentiles, it is more probable that it is a book of the gentiles than of the jews, [i have read in an ancient persian poem (saadi, i believe, but have mislaid the reference) this phrase: "and now the whale swallowed jonah: the sun set."--editor.] and that it has been written as a fable to expose the nonsense, and satyrize the vicious and malignant character, of a bible-prophet, or a predicting priest. jonah is represented, first as a disobedient prophet, running away from his mission, and taking shelter aboard a vessel of the gentiles, bound from joppa to tarshish; as if he ignorantly supposed, by such a paltry contrivance, he could hide himself where god could not find him. the vessel is overtaken by a storm at sea; and the mariners, all of whom are gentiles, believing it to be a judgement on account of some one on board who had committed a crime, agreed to cast lots to discover the offender; and the lot fell upon jonah. but before this they had cast all their wares and merchandise over-board to lighten the vessel, while jonah, like a stupid fellow, was fast asleep in the hold. after the lot had designated jonah to be the offender, they questioned him to know who and what he was? and he told them he was an hebrew; and the story implies that he confessed himself to be guilty. but these gentiles, instead of sacrificing him at once without pity or mercy, as a company of bible-prophets or priests would have done by a gentile in the same case, and as it is related samuel had done by agag, and moses by the women and children, they endeavoured to save him, though at the risk of their own lives: for the account says, "nevertheless [that is, though jonah was a jew and a foreigner, and the cause of all their misfortunes, and the loss of their cargo] the men rowed hard to bring the boat to land, but they could not, for the sea wrought and was tempestuous against them." still however they were unwilling to put the fate of the lot into execution; and they cried, says the account, unto the lord, saying, "we beseech thee, o lord, let us not perish for this man's life, and lay not upon us innocent blood; for thou, o lord, hast done as it pleased thee." meaning thereby, that they did not presume to judge jonah guilty, since that he might be innocent; but that they considered the lot that had fallen upon him as a decree of god, or as it pleased god. the address of this prayer shows that the gentiles worshipped one supreme being, and that they were not idolaters as the jews represented them to be. but the storm still continuing, and the danger encreasing, they put the fate of the lot into execution, and cast jonah in the sea; where, according to the story, a great fish swallowed him up whole and alive! we have now to consider jonah securely housed from the storm in the fish's belly. here we are told that he prayed; but the prayer is a made-up prayer, taken from various parts of the psalms, without connection or consistency, and adapted to the distress, but not at all to the condition that jonah was in. it is such a prayer as a gentile, who might know something of the psalms, could copy out for him. this circumstance alone, were there no other, is sufficient to indicate that the whole is a made-up story. the prayer, however, is supposed to have answered the purpose, and the story goes on, (taking-off at the same time the cant language of a bible-prophet,) saying, "the lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out jonah upon dry land." jonah then received a second mission to nineveh, with which he sets out; and we have now to consider him as a preacher. the distress he is represented to have suffered, the remembrance of his own disobedience as the cause of it, and the miraculous escape he is supposed to have had, were sufficient, one would conceive, to have impressed him with sympathy and benevolence in the execution of his mission; but, instead of this, he enters the city with denunciation and malediction in his mouth, crying, "yet forty days, and nineveh shall be overthrown." we have now to consider this supposed missionary in the last act of his mission; and here it is that the malevolent spirit of a bible-prophet, or of a predicting priest, appears in all that blackness of character that men ascribe to the being they call the devil. having published his predictions, he withdrew, says the story, to the east side of the city.--but for what? not to contemplate in retirement the mercy of his creator to himself or to others, but to wait, with malignant impatience, the destruction of nineveh. it came to pass, however, as the story relates, that the ninevites reformed, and that god, according to the bible phrase, repented him of the evil he had said he would do unto them, and did it not. this, saith the first verse of the last chapter, displeased jonah exceedingly and he was very angry. his obdurate heart would rather that all nineveh should be destroyed, and every soul, young and old, perish in its ruins, than that his prediction should not be fulfilled. to expose the character of a prophet still more, a gourd is made to grow up in the night, that promises him an agreeable shelter from the heat of the sun, in the place to which he is retired; and the next morning it dies. here the rage of the prophet becomes excessive, and he is ready to destroy himself. "it is better, said he, for me to die than to live." this brings on a supposed expostulation between the almighty and the prophet; in which the former says, "doest thou well to be angry for the gourd? and jonah said, i do well to be angry even unto death. then said the lord, thou hast had pity on the gourd, for which thou hast not laboured, neither madest it to grow, which came up in a night, and perished in a night; and should not i spare nineveh, that great city, in which are more than threescore thousand persons, that cannot discern between their right hand and their left?" here is both the winding up of the satire, and the moral of the fable. as a satire, it strikes against the character of all the bible-prophets, and against all the indiscriminate judgements upon men, women and children, with which this lying book, the bible, is crowded; such as noah's flood, the destruction of the cities of sodom and gomorrah, the extirpation of the canaanites, even to suckling infants, and women with child; because the same reflection 'that there are more than threescore thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left,' meaning young children, applies to all their cases. it satirizes also the supposed partiality of the creator for one nation more than for another. as a moral, it preaches against the malevolent spirit of prediction; for as certainly as a man predicts ill, he becomes inclined to wish it. the pride of having his judgment right hardens his heart, till at last he beholds with satisfaction, or sees with disappointment, the accomplishment or the failure of his predictions.--this book ends with the same kind of strong and well-directed point against prophets, prophecies and indiscriminate judgements, as the chapter that benjamin franklin made for the bible, about abraham and the stranger, ends against the intolerant spirit of religious persecutions--thus much for the book jonah. [the story of abraham and the fire-worshipper, ascribed to franklin, is from saadi. (see my "sacred anthology," p. .) paine has often been called a "mere scoffer," but he seems to have been among the first to treat with dignity the book of jonah, so especially liable to the ridicule of superficial readers, and discern in it the highest conception of deity known to the old testament.--editor.] of the poetical parts of the bible, that are called prophecies, i have spoken in the former part of 'the age of reason,' and already in this, where i have said that the word for prophet is the bible-word for poet, and that the flights and metaphors of those poets, many of which have become obscure by the lapse of time and the change of circumstances, have been ridiculously erected into things called prophecies, and applied to purposes the writers never thought of. when a priest quotes any of those passages, he unriddles it agreeably to his own views, and imposes that explanation upon his congregation as the meaning of the writer. the whore of babylon has been the common whore of all the priests, and each has accused the other of keeping the strumpet; so well do they agree in their explanations. there now remain only a few books, which they call books of the lesser prophets; and as i have already shown that the greater are impostors, it would be cowardice to disturb the repose of the little ones. let them sleep, then, in the arms of their nurses, the priests, and both be forgotten together. i have now gone through the bible, as a man would go through a wood with an axe on his shoulder, and fell trees. here they lie; and the priests, if they can, may replant them. they may, perhaps, stick them in the ground, but they will never make them grow.--i pass on to the books of the new testament. chapter ii - the new testament the new testament, they tell us, is founded upon the prophecies of the old; if so, it must follow the fate of its foundation. as it is nothing extraordinary that a woman should be with child before she was married, and that the son she might bring forth should be executed, even unjustly, i see no reason for not believing that such a woman as mary, and such a man as joseph, and jesus, existed; their mere existence is a matter of indifference, about which there is no ground either to believe or to disbelieve, and which comes under the common head of, it may be so, and what then? the probability however is that there were such persons, or at least such as resembled them in part of the circumstances, because almost all romantic stories have been suggested by some actual circumstance; as the adventures of robinson crusoe, not a word of which is true, were suggested by the case of alexander selkirk. it is not then the existence or the non-existence, of the persons that i trouble myself about; it is the fable of jesus christ, as told in the new testament, and the wild and visionary doctrine raised thereon, against which i contend. the story, taking it as it is told, is blasphemously obscene. it gives an account of a young woman engaged to be married, and while under this engagement, she is, to speak plain language, debauched by a ghost, under the impious pretence, (luke i. ,) that "the holy ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the highest shall overshadow thee." notwithstanding which, joseph afterwards marries her, cohabits with her as his wife, and in his turn rivals the ghost. this is putting the story into intelligible language, and when told in this manner, there is not a priest but must be ashamed to own it. [mary, the supposed virgin, mother of jesus, had several other children, sons and daughters. see matt. xiii. , .--author.] obscenity in matters of faith, however wrapped up, is always a token of fable and imposture; for it is necessary to our serious belief in god, that we do not connect it with stories that run, as this does, into ludicrous interpretations. this story is, upon the face of it, the same kind of story as that of jupiter and leda, or jupiter and europa, or any of the amorous adventures of jupiter; and shews, as is already stated in the former part of 'the age of reason,' that the christian faith is built upon the heathen mythology. as the historical parts of the new testament, so far as concerns jesus christ, are confined to a very short space of time, less than two years, and all within the same country, and nearly to the same spot, the discordance of time, place, and circumstance, which detects the fallacy of the books of the old testament, and proves them to be impositions, cannot be expected to be found here in the same abundance. the new testament compared with the old, is like a farce of one act, in which there is not room for very numerous violations of the unities. there are, however, some glaring contradictions, which, exclusive of the fallacy of the pretended prophecies, are sufficient to show the story of jesus christ to be false. i lay it down as a position which cannot be controverted, first, that the agreement of all the parts of a story does not prove that story to be true, because the parts may agree, and the whole may be false; secondly, that the disagreement of the parts of a story proves the whole cannot be true. the agreement does not prove truth, but the disagreement proves falsehood positively. the history of jesus christ is contained in the four books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke, and john.--the first chapter of matthew begins with giving a genealogy of jesus christ; and in the third chapter of luke there is also given a genealogy of jesus christ. did these two agree, it would not prove the genealogy to be true, because it might nevertheless be a fabrication; but as they contradict each other in every particular, it proves falsehood absolutely. if matthew speaks truth, luke speaks falsehood; and if luke speaks truth, matthew speaks falsehood: and as there is no authority for believing one more than the other, there is no authority for believing either; and if they cannot be believed even in the very first thing they say, and set out to prove, they are not entitled to be believed in any thing they say afterwards. truth is an uniform thing; and as to inspiration and revelation, were we to admit it, it is impossible to suppose it can be contradictory. either then the men called apostles were imposters, or the books ascribed to them have been written by other persons, and fathered upon them, as is the case in the old testament. the book of matthew gives (i. ), a genealogy by name from david, up, through joseph, the husband of mary, to christ; and makes there to be twent eight generations. the book of luke gives also a genealogy by name from christ, through joseph the husband of mary, down to david, and makes there to be forty-three generations; besides which, there is only the two names of david and joseph that are alike in the two lists.--i here insert both genealogical lists, and for the sake of perspicuity and comparison, have placed them both in the same direction, that is, from joseph down to david. genealogy, according to genealogy, according to matthew. luke. christ christ joseph joseph jacob heli matthan matthat eleazer levi eliud melchl achim janna sadoc joseph azor mattathias eliakim amos abiud naum zorobabel esli salathiel nagge jechonias maath josias mattathias amon semei manasses joseph ezekias juda achaz joanna joatham rhesa ozias zorobabel joram salathiel josaphat neri asa melchi abia addi roboam cosam solomon elmodam david * er jose eliezer jorim matthat levi simeon juda joseph jonan eliakim melea menan mattatha nathan david [note: * from the birth of david to the birth of christ is upwards of years; and as the life-time of christ is not included, there are but full generations. to find therefore the average age of each person mentioned in the list, at the time his first son was born, it is only necessary to divide by , which gives years for each person. as the life-time of man was then but of the same extent it is now, it is an absurdity to suppose, that following generations should all be old bachelors, before they married; and the more so, when we are told that solomon, the next in succession to david, had a house full of wives and mistresses before he was twenty-one years of age. so far from this genealogy being a solemn truth, it is not even a reasonable lie. the list of luke gives about twenty-six years for the average age, and this is too much.--author.] now, if these men, matthew and luke, set out with a falsehood between them (as these two accounts show they do) in the very commencement of their history of jesus christ, and of who, and of what he was, what authority (as i have before asked) is there left for believing the strange things they tell us afterwards? if they cannot be believed in their account of his natural genealogy, how are we to believe them when they tell us he was the son of god, begotten by a ghost; and that an angel announced this in secret to his mother? if they lied in one genealogy, why are we to believe them in the other? if his natural genealogy be manufactured, which it certainly is, why are we not to suppose that his celestial genealogy is manufactured also, and that the whole is fabulous? can any man of serious reflection hazard his future happiness upon the belief of a story naturally impossible, repugnant to every idea of decency, and related by persons already detected of falsehood? is it not more safe that we stop ourselves at the plain, pure, and unmixed belief of one god, which is deism, than that we commit ourselves on an ocean of improbable, irrational, indecent, and contradictory tales? the first question, however, upon the books of the new testament, as upon those of the old, is, are they genuine? were they written by the persons to whom they are ascribed? for it is upon this ground only that the strange things related therein have been credited. upon this point, there is no direct proof for or against; and all that this state of a case proves is doubtfulness; and doubtfulness is the opposite of belief. the state, therefore, that the books are in, proves against themselves as far as this kind of proof can go. but, exclusive of this, the presumption is that the books called the evangelists, and ascribed to matthew, mark, luke, and john, were not written by matthew, mark, luke, and john; and that they are impositions. the disordered state of the history in these four books, the silence of one book upon matters related in the other, and the disagreement that is to be found among them, implies that they are the productions of some unconnected individuals, many years after the things they pretend to relate, each of whom made his own legend; and not the writings of men living intimately together, as the men called apostles are supposed to have done: in fine, that they have been manufactured, as the books of the old testament have been, by other persons than those whose names they bear. the story of the angel announcing what the church calls the immaculate conception, is not so much as mentioned in the books ascribed to mark, and john; and is differently related in matthew and luke. the former says the angel, appeared to joseph; the latter says, it was to mary; but either joseph or mary was the worst evidence that could have been thought of; for it was others that should have testified for them, and not they for themselves. were any girl that is now with child to say, and even to swear it, that she was gotten with child by a ghost, and that an angel told her so, would she be believed? certainly she would not. why then are we to believe the same thing of another girl whom we never saw, told by nobody knows who, nor when, nor where? how strange and inconsistent is it, that the same circumstance that would weaken the belief even of a probable story, should be given as a motive for believing this one, that has upon the face of it every token of absolute impossibility and imposture. the story of herod destroying all the children under two years old, belongs altogether to the book of matthew; not one of the rest mentions anything about it. had such a circumstance been true, the universality of it must have made it known to all the writers, and the thing would have been too striking to have been omitted by any. this writer tell us, that jesus escaped this slaughter, because joseph and mary were warned by an angel to flee with him into egypt; but he forgot to make provision for john [the baptist], who was then under two years of age. john, however, who staid behind, fared as well as jesus, who fled; and therefore the story circumstantially belies itself. not any two of these writers agree in reciting, exactly in the same words, the written inscription, short as it is, which they tell us was put over christ when he was crucified; and besides this, mark says, he was crucified at the third hour, (nine in the morning;) and john says it was the sixth hour, (twelve at noon.) [according to john, (xix. ) the sentence was not passed till about the sixth hour (noon,) and consequently the execution could not be till the afternoon; but mark (xv. ) says expressly that he was crucified at the third hour, (nine in the morning,)--author.] the inscription is thus stated in those books: matthew--this is jesus the king of the jews. mark--the king of the jews. luke--this is the king of the jews. john--jesus of nazareth the king of the jews. we may infer from these circumstances, trivial as they are, that those writers, whoever they were, and in whatever time they lived, were not present at the scene. the only one of the men called apostles who appears to have been near to the spot was peter, and when he was accused of being one of jesus's followers, it is said, (matthew xxvi. ,) "then peter began to curse and to swear, saying, i know not the man:" yet we are now called to believe the same peter, convicted, by their own account, of perjury. for what reason, or on what authority, should we do this? the accounts that are given of the circumstances, that they tell us attended the crucifixion, are differently related in those four books. the book ascribed to matthew says 'there was darkness over all the land from the sixth hour unto the ninth hour--that the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom--that there was an earthquake--that the rocks rent--that the graves opened, that the bodies of many of the saints that slept arose and came out of their graves after the resurrection, and went into the holy city and appeared unto many.' such is the account which this dashing writer of the book of matthew gives, but in which he is not supported by the writers of the other books. the writer of the book ascribed to mark, in detailing the circumstances of the crucifixion, makes no mention of any earthquake, nor of the rocks rending, nor of the graves opening, nor of the dead men walking out. the writer of the book of luke is silent also upon the same points. and as to the writer of the book of john, though he details all the circumstances of the crucifixion down to the burial of christ, he says nothing about either the darkness--the veil of the temple--the earthquake--the rocks--the graves--nor the dead men. now if it had been true that these things had happened, and if the writers of these books had lived at the time they did happen, and had been the persons they are said to be--namely, the four men called apostles, matthew, mark, luke, and john,--it was not possible for them, as true historians, even without the aid of inspiration, not to have recorded them. the things, supposing them to have been facts, were of too much notoriety not to have been known, and of too much importance not to have been told. all these supposed apostles must have been witnesses of the earthquake, if there had been any, for it was not possible for them to have been absent from it: the opening of the graves and resurrection of the dead men, and their walking about the city, is of still greater importance than the earthquake. an earthquake is always possible, and natural, and proves nothing; but this opening of the graves is supernatural, and directly in point to their doctrine, their cause, and their apostleship. had it been true, it would have filled up whole chapters of those books, and been the chosen theme and general chorus of all the writers; but instead of this, little and trivial things, and mere prattling conversation of 'he said this and she said that' are often tediously detailed, while this most important of all, had it been true, is passed off in a slovenly manner by a single dash of the pen, and that by one writer only, and not so much as hinted at by the rest. it is an easy thing to tell a lie, but it is difficult to support the lie after it is told. the writer of the book of matthew should have told us who the saints were that came to life again, and went into the city, and what became of them afterwards, and who it was that saw them; for he is not hardy enough to say that he saw them himself;--whether they came out naked, and all in natural buff, he-saints and she-saints, or whether they came full dressed, and where they got their dresses; whether they went to their former habitations, and reclaimed their wives, their husbands, and their property, and how they were received; whether they entered ejectments for the recovery of their possessions, or brought actions of crim. con. against the rival interlopers; whether they remained on earth, and followed their former occupation of preaching or working; or whether they died again, or went back to their graves alive, and buried themselves. strange indeed, that an army of saints should retum to life, and nobody know who they were, nor who it was that saw them, and that not a word more should be said upon the subject, nor these saints have any thing to tell us! had it been the prophets who (as we are told) had formerly prophesied of these things, they must have had a great deal to say. they could have told us everything, and we should have had posthumous prophecies, with notes and commentaries upon the first, a little better at least than we have now. had it been moses, and aaron, and joshua, and samuel, and david, not an unconverted jew had remained in all jerusalem. had it been john the baptist, and the saints of the times then present, everybody would have known them, and they would have out-preached and out-famed all the other apostles. but, instead of this, these saints are made to pop up, like jonah's gourd in the night, for no purpose at all but to wither in the morning.--thus much for this part of the story. the tale of the resurrection follows that of the crucifixion; and in this as well as in that, the writers, whoever they were, disagree so much as to make it evident that none of them were there. the book of matthew states, that when christ was put in the sepulchre the jews applied to pilate for a watch or a guard to be placed over the septilchre, to prevent the body being stolen by the disciples; and that in consequence of this request the sepulchre was made sure, sealing the stone that covered the mouth, and setting a watch. but the other books say nothing about this application, nor about the sealing, nor the guard, nor the watch; and according to their accounts, there were none. matthew, however, follows up this part of the story of the guard or the watch with a second part, that i shall notice in the conclusion, as it serves to detect the fallacy of those books. the book of matthew continues its account, and says, (xxviii. ,) that at the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn, towards the first day of the week, came mary magdalene and the other mary, to see the sepulchre. mark says it was sun-rising, and john says it was dark. luke says it was mary magdalene and joanna, and mary the mother of james, and other women, that came to the sepulchre; and john states that mary magdalene came alone. so well do they agree about their first evidence! they all, however, appear to have known most about mary magdalene; she was a woman of large acquaintance, and it was not an ill conjecture that she might be upon the stroll. [the bishop of llandaff, in his famous "apology," censured paine severely for this insinuation against mary magdalene, but the censure really falls on our english version, which, by a chapter-heading (luke vii.), has unwarrantably identified her as the sinful woman who anointed jesus, and irrevocably branded her.--editor.] the book of matthew goes on to say (ver. ): "and behold there was a great earthquake, for the angel of the lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it" but the other books say nothing about any earthquake, nor about the angel rolling back the stone, and sitting upon it and, according to their account, there was no angel sitting there. mark says the angel [mark says "a young man," and luke "two men."--editor.] was within the sepulchre, sitting on the right side. luke says there were two, and they were both standing up; and john says they were both sitting down, one at the head and the other at the feet. matthew says, that the angel that was sitting upon the stone on the outside of the sepulchre told the two marys that christ was risen, and that the women went away quickly. mark says, that the women, upon seeing the stone rolled away, and wondering at it, went into the sepulchre, and that it was the angel that was sitting within on the right side, that told them so. luke says, it was the two angels that were standing up; and john says, it was jesus christ himself that told it to mary magdalene; and that she did not go into the sepulchre, but only stooped down and looked in. now, if the writers of these four books had gone into a court of justice to prove an alibi, (for it is of the nature of an alibi that is here attempted to be proved, namely, the absence of a dead body by supernatural means,) and had they given their evidence in the same contradictory manner as it is here given, they would have been in danger of having their ears cropt for perjury, and would have justly deserved it. yet this is the evidence, and these are the books, that have been imposed upon the world as being given by divine inspiration, and as the unchangeable word of god. the writer of the book of matthew, after giving this account, relates a story that is not to be found in any of the other books, and which is the same i have just before alluded to. "now," says he, [that is, after the conversation the women had had with the angel sitting upon the stone,] "behold some of the watch [meaning the watch that he had said had been placed over the sepulchre] came into the city, and shawed unto the chief priests all the things that were done; and when they were assembled with the elders and had taken counsel, they gave large money unto the soldiers, saying, say ye, that his disciples came by night, and stole him away while we slept; and if this come to the governor's ears, we will persuade him, and secure you. so they took the money, and did as they were taught; and this saying [that his disciples stole him away] is commonly reported among the jews until this day." the expression, until this day, is an evidence that the book ascribed to matthew was not written by matthew, and that it has been manufactured long after the times and things of which it pretends to treat; for the expression implies a great length of intervening time. it would be inconsistent in us to speak in this manner of any thing happening in our own time. to give, therefore, intelligible meaning to the expression, we must suppose a lapse of some generations at least, for this manner of speaking carries the mind back to ancient time. the absurdity also of the story is worth noticing; for it shows the writer of the book of matthew to have been an exceeding weak and foolish man. he tells a story that contradicts itself in point of possibility; for though the guard, if there were any, might be made to say that the body was taken away while they were asleep, and to give that as a reason for their not having prevented it, that same sleep must also have prevented their knowing how, and by whom, it was done; and yet they are made to say that it was the disciples who did it. were a man to tender his evidence of something that he should say was done, and of the manner of doing it, and of the person who did it, while he was asleep, and could know nothing of the matter, such evidence could not be received: it will do well enough for testament evidence, but not for any thing where truth is concerned. i come now to that part of the evidence in those books, that respects the pretended appearance of christ after this pretended resurrection. the writer of the book of matthew relates, that the angel that was sitting on the stone at the mouth of the sepulchre, said to the two marys (xxviii. ), "behold christ is gone before you into galilee, there ye shall see him; lo, i have told you." and the same writer at the next two verses ( , ,) makes christ himself to speak to the same purpose to these women immediately after the angel had told it to them, and that they ran quickly to tell it to the disciples; and it is said (ver. ), "then the eleven disciples went away into galilee, into a mountain where jesus had appointed them; and, when they saw him, they worshipped him." but the writer of the book of john tells us a story very different to this; for he says (xx. ) "then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, [that is, the same day that christ is said to have risen,] when the doors were shut, where the disciples were assembled, for fear of the jews, came jesus and stood in the midst of them." according to matthew the eleven were marching to galilee, to meet jesus in a mountain, by his own appointment, at the very time when, according to john, they were assembled in another place, and that not by appointment, but in secret, for fear of the jews. the writer of the book of luke xxiv. , - , contradicts that of matthew more pointedly than john does; for he says expressly, that the meeting was in jerusalem the evening of the same day that he (christ) rose, and that the eleven were there. now, it is not possible, unless we admit these supposed disciples the right of wilful lying, that the writers of these books could be any of the eleven persons called disciples; for if, according to matthew, the eleven went into galilee to meet jesus in a mountain by his own appointment, on the same day that he is said to have risen, luke and john must have been two of that eleven; yet the writer of luke says expressly, and john implies as much, that the meeting was that same day, in a house in jerusalem; and, on the other hand, if, according to luke and john, the eleven were assembled in a house in jerusalem, matthew must have been one of that eleven; yet matthew says the meeting was in a mountain in galilee, and consequently the evidence given in those books destroy each other. the writer of the book of mark says nothing about any meeting in galilee; but he says (xvi. ) that christ, after his resurrection, appeared in another form to two of them, as they walked into the country, and that these two told it to the residue, who would not believe them. [this belongs to the late addition to mark, which originally ended with xvi. .--editor.] luke also tells a story, in which he keeps christ employed the whole of the day of this pretended resurrection, until the evening, and which totally invalidates the account of going to the mountain in galilee. he says, that two of them, without saying which two, went that same day to a village called emmaus, three score furlongs (seven miles and a half) from jerusalem, and that christ in disguise went with them, and stayed with them unto the evening, and supped with them, and then vanished out of their sight, and reappeared that same evening, at the meeting of the eleven in jerusalem. this is the contradictory manner in which the evidence of this pretended reappearance of christ is stated: the only point in which the writers agree, is the skulking privacy of that reappearance; for whether it was in the recess of a mountain in galilee, or in a shut-up house in jerusalem, it was still skulking. to what cause then are we to assign this skulking? on the one hand, it is directly repugnant to the supposed or pretended end, that of convincing the world that christ was risen; and, on the other hand, to have asserted the publicity of it would have exposed the writers of those books to public detection; and, therefore, they have been under the necessity of making it a private affair. as to the account of christ being seen by more than five hundred at once, it is paul only who says it, and not the five hundred who say it for themselves. it is, therefore, the testimony of but one man, and that too of a man, who did not, according to the same account, believe a word of the matter himself at the time it is said to have happened. his evidence, supposing him to have been the writer of corinthians xv., where this account is given, is like that of a man who comes into a court of justice to swear that what he had sworn before was false. a man may often see reason, and he has too always the right of changing his opinion; but this liberty does not extend to matters of fact. i now come to the last scene, that of the ascension into heaven.--here all fear of the jews, and of every thing else, must necessarily have been out of the question: it was that which, if true, was to seal the whole; and upon which the reality of the future mission of the disciples was to rest for proof. words, whether declarations or promises, that passed in private, either in the recess of a mountain in galilee, or in a shut-up house in jerusalem, even supposing them to have been spoken, could not be evidence in public; it was therefore necessary that this last scene should preclude the possibility of denial and dispute; and that it should be, as i have stated in the former part of 'the age of reason,' as public and as visible as the sun at noon-day; at least it ought to have been as public as the crucifixion is reported to have been.--but to come to the point. in the first place, the writer of the book of matthew does not say a syllable about it; neither does the writer of the book of john. this being the case, is it possible to suppose that those writers, who affect to be even minute in other matters, would have been silent upon this, had it been true? the writer of the book of mark passes it off in a careless, slovenly manner, with a single dash of the pen, as if he was tired of romancing, or ashamed of the story. so also does the writer of luke. and even between these two, there is not an apparent agreement, as to the place where this final parting is said to have been. [the last nine verses of mark being ungenuine, the story of the ascension rests exclusively on the words in luke xxiv. , "was carried up into heaven,"--words omitted by several ancient authorities.--editor.] the book of mark says that christ appeared to the eleven as they sat at meat, alluding to the meeting of the eleven at jerusalem: he then states the conversation that he says passed at that meeting; and immediately after says (as a school-boy would finish a dull story,) "so then, after the lord had spoken unto them, he was received up into heaven, and sat on the right hand of god." but the writer of luke says, that the ascension was from bethany; that he (christ) led them out as far as bethany, and was parted from them there, and was carried up into heaven. so also was mahomet: and, as to moses, the apostle jude says, ver. . that 'michael and the devil disputed about his body.' while we believe such fables as these, or either of them, we believe unworthily of the almighty. i have now gone through the examination of the four books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke and john; and when it is considered that the whole space of time, from the crucifixion to what is called the ascension, is but a few days, apparently not more than three or four, and that all the circumstances are reported to have happened nearly about the same spot, jerusalem, it is, i believe, impossible to find in any story upon record so many and such glaring absurdities, contradictions, and falsehoods, as are in those books. they are more numerous and striking than i had any expectation of finding, when i began this examination, and far more so than i had any idea of when i wrote the former part of 'the age of reason.' i had then neither bible nor testament to refer to, nor could i procure any. my own situation, even as to existence, was becoming every day more precarious; and as i was willing to leave something behind me upon the subject, i was obliged to be quick and concise. the quotations i then made were from memory only, but they are correct; and the opinions i have advanced in that work are the effect of the most clear and long-established conviction,--that the bible and the testament are impositions upon the world;--that the fall of man, the account of jesus christ being the son of god, and of his dying to appease the wrath of god, and of salvation by that strange means, are all fabulous inventions, dishonourable to the wisdom and power of the almighty;--that the only true religion is deism, by which i then meant and now mean the belief of one god, and an imitation of his moral character, or the practice of what are called moral virtues;--and that it was upon this only (so far as religion is concerned) that i rested all my hopes of happiness hereafter. so say i now--and so help me god. but to retum to the subject.--though it is impossible, at this distance of time, to ascertain as a fact who were the writers of those four books (and this alone is sufficient to hold them in doubt, and where we doubt we do not believe) it is not difficult to ascertain negatively that they were not written by the persons to whom they are ascribed. the contradictions in those books demonstrate two things: first, that the writers cannot have been eye-witnesses and ear-witnesses of the matters they relate, or they would have related them without those contradictions; and, consequently that the books have not been written by the persons called apostles, who are supposed to have been witnesses of this kind. secondly, that the writers, whoever they were, have not acted in concerted imposition, but each writer separately and individually for himself, and without the knowledge of the other. the same evidence that applies to prove the one, applies equally to prove both cases; that is, that the books were not written by the men called apostles, and also that they are not a concerted imposition. as to inspiration, it is altogether out of the question; we may as well attempt to unite truth and falsehood, as inspiration and contradiction. if four men are eye-witnesses and ear-witnesses to a scene, they will without any concert between them, agree as to time and place, when and where that scene happened. their individual knowledge of the thing, each one knowing it for himself, renders concert totally unnecessary; the one will not say it was in a mountain in the country, and the other at a house in town; the one will not say it was at sunrise, and the other that it was dark. for in whatever place it was and whatever time it was, they know it equally alike. and on the other hand, if four men concert a story, they will make their separate relations of that story agree and corroborate with each other to support the whole. that concert supplies the want of fact in the one case, as the knowledge of the fact supersedes, in the other case, the necessity of a concert. the same contradictions, therefore, that prove there has been no concert, prove also that the reporters had no knowledge of the fact, (or rather of that which they relate as a fact,) and detect also the falsehood of their reports. those books, therefore, have neither been written by the men called apostles, nor by imposters in concert.--how then have they been written? i am not one of those who are fond of believing there is much of that which is called wilful lying, or lying originally, except in the case of men setting up to be prophets, as in the old testament; for prophesying is lying professionally. in almost all other cases it is not difficult to discover the progress by which even simple supposition, with the aid of credulity, will in time grow into a lie, and at last be told as a fact; and whenever we can find a charitable reason for a thing of this kind, we ought not to indulge a severe one. the story of jesus christ appearing after he was dead is the story of an apparition, such as timid imaginations can always create in vision, and credulity believe. stories of this kind had been told of the assassination of julius caesar not many years before, and they generally have their origin in violent deaths, or in execution of innocent persons. in cases of this kind, compassion lends its aid, and benevolently stretches the story. it goes on a little and a little farther, till it becomes a most certain truth. once start a ghost, and credulity fills up the history of its life, and assigns the cause of its appearance; one tells it one way, another another way, till there are as many stories about the ghost, and about the proprietor of the ghost, as there are about jesus christ in these four books. the story of the appearance of jesus christ is told with that strange mixture of the natural and impossible, that distinguishes legendary tale from fact. he is represented as suddenly coming in and going out when the doors are shut, and of vanishing out of sight, and appearing again, as one would conceive of an unsubstantial vision; then again he is hungry, sits down to meat, and eats his supper. but as those who tell stories of this kind never provide for all the cases, so it is here: they have told us, that when he arose he left his grave-clothes behind him; but they have forgotten to provide other clothes for him to appear in afterwards, or to tell us what he did with them when he ascended; whether he stripped all off, or went up clothes and all. in the case of elijah, they have been careful enough to make him throw down his mantle; how it happened not to be burnt in the chariot of fire, they also have not told us; but as imagination supplies all deficiencies of this kind, we may suppose if we please that it was made of salamander's wool. those who are not much acquainted with ecclesiastical history, may suppose that the book called the new testament has existed ever since the time of jesus christ, as they suppose that the books ascribed to moses have existed ever since the time of moses. but the fact is historically otherwise; there was no such book as the new testament till more than three hundred years after the time that christ is said to have lived. at what time the books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke and john, began to appear, is altogether a matter of uncertainty. there is not the least shadow of evidence of who the persons were that wrote them, nor at what time they were written; and they might as well have been called by the names of any of the other supposed apostles as by the names they are now called. the originals are not in the possession of any christian church existing, any more than the two tables of stone written on, they pretend, by the finger of god, upon mount sinai, and given to moses, are in the possession of the jews. and even if they were, there is no possibility of proving the hand-writing in either case. at the time those four books were written there was no printing, and consequently there could be no publication otherwise than by written copies, which any man might make or alter at pleasure, and call them originals. can we suppose it is consistent with the wisdom of the almighty to commit himself and his will to man upon such precarious means as these; or that it is consistent we should pin our faith upon such uncertainties? we cannot make nor alter, nor even imitate, so much as one blade of grass that he has made, and yet we can make or alter words of god as easily as words of man. [the former part of the 'age of reason' has not been published two years, and there is already an expression in it that is not mine. the expression is: the book of luke was carried by a majority of one voice only. it may be true, but it is not i that have said it. some person who might know of that circumstance, has added it in a note at the bottom of the page of some of the editions, printed either in england or in america; and the printers, after that, have erected it into the body of the work, and made me the author of it. if this has happened within such a short space of time, notwithstanding the aid of printing, which prevents the alteration of copies individually, what may not have happened in a much greater length of time, when there was no printing, and when any man who could write could make a written copy and call it an original by matthew, mark, luke, or john?--author.] [the spurious addition to paine's work alluded to in his footnote drew on him a severe criticism from dr. priestley ("letters to a philosophical unbeliever," p. ), yet it seems to have been priestley himself who, in his quotation, first incorporated into paine's text the footnote added by the editor of the american edition ( ). the american added: "vide moshiem's (sic) ecc. history," which priestley omits. in a modern american edition i notice four verbal alterations introduced into the above footnote.--editor.] about three hundred and fifty years after the time that christ is said to have lived, several writings of the kind i am speaking of were scattered in the hands of divers individuals; and as the church had begun to form itself into an hierarchy, or church government, with temporal powers, it set itself about collecting them into a code, as we now see them, called 'the new testament.' they decided by vote, as i have before said in the former part of the age of reason, which of those writings, out of the collection they had made, should be the word of god, and which should not. the robbins of the jews had decided, by vote, upon the books of the bible before. as the object of the church, as is the case in all national establishments of churches, was power and revenue, and terror the means it used, it is consistent to suppose that the most miraculous and wonderful of the writings they had collected stood the best chance of being voted. and as to the authenticity of the books, the vote stands in the place of it; for it can be traced no higher. disputes, however, ran high among the people then calling themselves christians, not only as to points of doctrine, but as to the authenticity of the books. in the contest between the person called st. augustine, and fauste, about the year , the latter says, "the books called the evangelists have been composed long after the times of the apostles, by some obscure men, who, fearing that the world would not give credit to their relation of matters of which they could not be informed, have published them under the names of the apostles; and which are so full of sottishness and discordant relations, that there is neither agreement nor connection between them." and in another place, addressing himself to the advocates of those books, as being the word of god, he says, "it is thus that your predecessors have inserted in the scriptures of our lord many things which, though they carry his name, agree not with his doctrine." this is not surprising, since that we have often proved that these things have not been written by himself, nor by his apostles, but that for the greatest part they are founded upon tales, upon vague reports, and put together by i know not what half-jews, with but little agreement between them; and which they have nevertheless published under the name of the apostles of our lord, and have thus attributed to them their own errors and their lies. [i have taken these two extracts from boulanger's life of paul, written in french; boulanger has quoted them from the writings of augustine against fauste, to which he refers.--author.] this bishop faustus is usually styled "the manichaeum," augustine having entitled his book, contra frustum manichaeum libri xxxiii., in which nearly the whole of faustus' very able work is quoted.--editor.] the reader will see by those extracts that the authenticity of the books of the new testament was denied, and the books treated as tales, forgeries, and lies, at the time they were voted to be the word of god. but the interest of the church, with the assistance of the faggot, bore down the opposition, and at last suppressed all investigation. miracles followed upon miracles, if we will believe them, and men were taught to say they believed whether they believed or not. but (by way of throwing in a thought) the french revolution has excommunicated the church from the power of working miracles; she has not been able, with the assistance of all her saints, to work one miracle since the revolution began; and as she never stood in greater need than now, we may, without the aid of divination, conclude that all her former miracles are tricks and lies. [boulanger in his life of paul, has collected from the ecclesiastical histories, and the writings of the fathers as they are called, several matters which show the opinions that prevailed among the different sects of christians, at the time the testament, as we now see it, was voted to be the word of god. the following extracts are from the second chapter of that work: [the marcionists (a christian sect) asserted that the evangelists were filled with falsities. the manichaeans, who formed a very numerous sect at the commencement of christianity, rejected as false all the new testament, and showed other writings quite different that they gave for authentic. the corinthians, like the marcionists, admitted not the acts of the apostles. the encratites and the sevenians adopted neither the acts, nor the epistles of paul. chrysostom, in a homily which he made upon the acts of the apostles, says that in his time, about the year , many people knew nothing either of the author or of the book. st. irene, who lived before that time, reports that the valentinians, like several other sects of the christians, accused the scriptures of being filled with imperfections, errors, and contradictions. the ebionites, or nazarenes, who were the first christians, rejected all the epistles of paul, and regarded him as an impostor. they report, among other things, that he was originally a pagan; that he came to jerusalem, where he lived some time; and that having a mind to marry the daughter of the high priest, he had himself been circumcised; but that not being able to obtain her, he quarrelled with the jews and wrote against circumcision, and against the observation of the sabbath, and against all the legal ordinances.--author.] [much abridged from the exam. crit. de la vie de st. paul, by n.a. boulanger, .--editor.] when we consider the lapse of more than three hundred years intervening between the time that christ is said to have lived and the time the new testament was formed into a book, we must see, even without the assistance of historical evidence, the exceeding uncertainty there is of its authenticity. the authenticity of the book of homer, so far as regards the authorship, is much better established than that of the new testament, though homer is a thousand years the most ancient. it was only an exceeding good poet that could have written the book of homer, and, therefore, few men only could have attempted it; and a man capable of doing it would not have thrown away his own fame by giving it to another. in like manner, there were but few that could have composed euclid's elements, because none but an exceeding good geometrician could have been the author of that work. but with respect to the books of the new testament, particularly such parts as tell us of the resurrection and ascension of christ, any person who could tell a story of an apparition, or of a man's walking, could have made such books; for the story is most wretchedly told. the chance, therefore, of forgery in the testament is millions to one greater than in the case of homer or euclid. of the numerous priests or parsons of the present day, bishops and all, every one of them can make a sermon, or translate a scrap of latin, especially if it has been translated a thousand times before; but is there any amongst them that can write poetry like homer, or science like euclid? the sum total of a parson's learning, with very few exceptions, is a, b, ab, and hic, haec, hoc; and their knowledge of science is, three times one is three; and this is more than sufficient to have enabled them, had they lived at the time, to have written all the books of the new testament. as the opportunities of forgery were greater, so also was the inducement. a man could gain no advantage by writing under the name of homer or euclid; if he could write equal to them, it would be better that he wrote under his own name; if inferior, he could not succeed. pride would prevent the former, and impossibility the latter. but with respect to such books as compose the new testament, all the inducements were on the side of forgery. the best imagined history that could have been made, at the distance of two or three hundred years after the time, could not have passed for an original under the name of the real writer; the only chance of success lay in forgery; for the church wanted pretence for its new doctrine, and truth and talents were out of the question. but as it is not uncommon (as before observed) to relate stories of persons walking after they are dead, and of ghosts and apparitions of such as have fallen by some violent or extraordinary means; and as the people of that day were in the habit of believing such things, and of the appearance of angels, and also of devils, and of their getting into people's insides, and shaking them like a fit of an ague, and of their being cast out again as if by an emetic--(mary magdalene, the book of mark tells us had brought up, or been brought to bed of seven devils;) it was nothing extraordinary that some story of this kind should get abroad of the person called jesus christ, and become afterwards the foundation of the four books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke, and john. each writer told a tale as he heard it, or thereabouts, and gave to his book the name of the saint or the apostle whom tradition had given as the eye-witness. it is only upon this ground that the contradictions in those books can be accounted for; and if this be not the case, they are downright impositions, lies, and forgeries, without even the apology of credulity. that they have been written by a sort of half jews, as the foregoing quotations mention, is discernible enough. the frequent references made to that chief assassin and impostor moses, and to the men called prophets, establishes this point; and, on the other hand, the church has complimented the fraud, by admitting the bible and the testament to reply to each other. between the christian-jew and the christian-gentile, the thing called a prophecy, and the thing prophesied of, the type and the thing typified, the sign and the thing signified, have been industriously rummaged up, and fitted together like old locks and pick-lock keys. the story foolishly enough told of eve and the serpent, and naturally enough as to the enmity between men and serpents (for the serpent always bites about the heel, because it cannot reach higher, and the man always knocks the serpent about the head, as the most effectual way to prevent its biting;) ["it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel." gen. iii. .--author.] this foolish story, i say, has been made into a prophecy, a type, and a promise to begin with; and the lying imposition of isaiah to ahaz, 'that a virgin shall conceive and bear a son,' as a sign that ahaz should conquer, when the event was that he was defeated (as already noticed in the observations on the book of isaiah), has been perverted, and made to serve as a winder up. jonah and the whale are also made into a sign and type. jonah is jesus, and the whale is the grave; for it is said, (and they have made christ to say it of himself, matt. xii. ), "for as jonah was three days and three nights in the whale's belly, so shall the son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth." but it happens, awkwardly enough, that christ, according to their own account, was but one day and two nights in the grave; about hours instead of ; that is, the friday night, the saturday, and the saturday night; for they say he was up on the sunday morning by sunrise, or before. but as this fits quite as well as the bite and the kick in genesis, or the virgin and her son in isaiah, it will pass in the lump of orthodox things.--thus much for the historical part of the testament and its evidences. epistles of paul--the epistles ascribed to paul, being fourteen in number, almost fill up the remaining part of the testament. whether those epistles were written by the person to whom they are ascribed is a matter of no great importance, since that the writer, whoever he was, attempts to prove his doctrine by argument. he does not pretend to have been witness to any of the scenes told of the resurrection and the ascension; and he declares that he had not believed them. the story of his being struck to the ground as he was journeying to damascus, has nothing in it miraculous or extraordinary; he escaped with life, and that is more than many others have done, who have been struck with lightning; and that he should lose his sight for three days, and be unable to eat or drink during that time, is nothing more than is common in such conditions. his companions that were with him appear not to have suffered in the same manner, for they were well enough to lead him the remainder of the journey; neither did they pretend to have seen any vision. the character of the person called paul, according to the accounts given of him, has in it a great deal of violence and fanaticism; he had persecuted with as much heat as he preached afterwards; the stroke he had received had changed his thinking, without altering his constitution; and either as a jew or a christian he was the same zealot. such men are never good moral evidences of any doctrine they preach. they are always in extremes, as well of action as of belief. the doctrine he sets out to prove by argument, is the resurrection of the same body: and he advances this as an evidence of immortality. but so much will men differ in their manner of thinking, and in the conclusions they draw from the same premises, that this doctrine of the resurrection of the same body, so far from being an evidence of immortality, appears to me to be an evidence against it; for if i have already died in this body, and am raised again in the same body in which i have died, it is presumptive evidence that i shall die again. that resurrection no more secures me against the repetition of dying, than an ague-fit, when past, secures me against another. to believe therefore in immortality, i must have a more elevated idea than is contained in the gloomy doctrine of the resurrection. besides, as a matter of choice, as well as of hope, i had rather have a better body and a more convenient form than the present. every animal in the creation excels us in something. the winged insects, without mentioning doves or eagles, can pass over more space with greater ease in a few minutes than man can in an hour. the glide of the smallest fish, in proportion to its bulk, exceeds us in motion almost beyond comparison, and without weariness. even the sluggish snail can ascend from the bottom of a dungeon, where man, by the want of that ability, would perish; and a spider can launch itself from the top, as a playful amusement. the personal powers of man are so limited, and his heavy frame so little constructed to extensive enjoyment, that there is nothing to induce us to wish the opinion of paul to be true. it is too little for the magnitude of the scene, too mean for the sublimity of the subject. but all other arguments apart, the consciousness of existence is the only conceivable idea we can have of another life, and the continuance of that consciousness is immortality. the consciousness of existence, or the knowing that we exist, is not necessarily confined to the same form, nor to the same matter, even in this life. we have not in all cases the same form, nor in any case the same matter, that composed our bodies twenty or thirty years ago; and yet we are conscious of being the same persons. even legs and arms, which make up almost half the human frame, are not necessary to the consciousness of existence. these may be lost or taken away and the full consciousness of existence remain; and were their place supplied by wings, or other appendages, we cannot conceive that it could alter our consciousness of existence. in short, we know not how much, or rather how little, of our composition it is, and how exquisitely fine that little is, that creates in us this consciousness of existence; and all beyond that is like the pulp of a peach, distinct and separate from the vegetative speck in the kernel. who can say by what exceeding fine action of fine matter it is that a thought is produced in what we call the mind? and yet that thought when produced, as i now produce the thought i am writing, is capable of becoming immortal, and is the only production of man that has that capacity. statues of brass and marble will perish; and statues made in imitation of them are not the same statues, nor the same workmanship, any more than the copy of a picture is the same picture. but print and reprint a thought a thousand times over, and that with materials of any kind, carve it in wood, or engrave it on stone, the thought is eternally and identically the same thought in every case. it has a capacity of unimpaired existence, unaffected by change of matter, and is essentially distinct, and of a nature different from every thing else that we know of, or can conceive. if then the thing produced has in itself a capacity of being immortal, it is more than a token that the power that produced it, which is the self-same thing as consciousness of existence, can be immortal also; and that as independently of the matter it was first connected with, as the thought is of the printing or writing it first appeared in. the one idea is not more difficult to believe than the other; and we can see that one is true. that the consciousness of existence is not dependent on the same form or the same matter, is demonstrated to our senses in the works of the creation, as far as our senses are capable of receiving that demonstration. a very numerous part of the animal creation preaches to us, far better than paul, the belief of a life hereafter. their little life resembles an earth and a heaven, a present and a future state; and comprises, if it may be so expressed, immortality in miniature. the most beautiful parts of the creation to our eye are the winged insects, and they are not so originally. they acquire that form and that inimitable brilliancy by progressive changes. the slow and creeping caterpillar worm of to day, passes in a few days to a torpid figure, and a state resembling death; and in the next change comes forth in all the miniature magnificence of life, a splendid butterfly. no resemblance of the former creature remains; every thing is changed; all his powers are new, and life is to him another thing. we cannot conceive that the consciousness of existence is not the same in this state of the animal as before; why then must i believe that the resurrection of the same body is necessary to continue to me the consciousness of existence hereafter? in the former part of 'the agee of reason.' i have called the creation the true and only real word of god; and this instance, or this text, in the book of creation, not only shows to us that this thing may be so, but that it is so; and that the belief of a future state is a rational belief, founded upon facts visible in the creation: for it is not more difficult to believe that we shall exist hereafter in a better state and form than at present, than that a worm should become a butterfly, and quit the dunghill for the atmosphere, if we did not know it as a fact. as to the doubtful jargon ascribed to paul in corinthians xv., which makes part of the burial service of some christian sectaries, it is as destitute of meaning as the tolling of a bell at the funeral; it explains nothing to the understanding, it illustrates nothing to the imagination, but leaves the reader to find any meaning if he can. "all flesh," says he, "is not the same flesh. there is one flesh of men, another of beasts, another of fishes, and another of birds." and what then? nothing. a cook could have said as much. "there are also," says he, "bodies celestial and bodies terrestrial; the glory of the celestial is one and the glory of the terrestrial is the other." and what then? nothing. and what is the difference? nothing that he has told. "there is," says he, "one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars." and what then? nothing; except that he says that one star differeth from another star in glory, instead of distance; and he might as well have told us that the moon did not shine so bright as the sun. all this is nothing better than the jargon of a conjuror, who picks up phrases he does not understand to confound the credulous people who come to have their fortune told. priests and conjurors are of the same trade. sometimes paul affects to be a naturalist, and to prove his system of resurrection from the principles of vegetation. "thou fool" says he, "that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die." to which one might reply in his own language, and say, thou fool, paul, that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die not; for the grain that dies in the ground never does, nor can vegetate. it is only the living grains that produce the next crop. but the metaphor, in any point of view, is no simile. it is succession, and [not] resurrection. the progress of an animal from one state of being to another, as from a worm to a butterfly, applies to the case; but this of a grain does not, and shows paul to have been what he says of others, a fool. whether the fourteen epistles ascribed to paul were written by him or not, is a matter of indifference; they are either argumentative or dogmatical; and as the argument is defective, and the dogmatical part is merely presumptive, it signifies not who wrote them. and the same may be said for the remaining parts of the testament. it is not upon the epistles, but upon what is called the gospel, contained in the four books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke, and john, and upon the pretended prophecies, that the theory of the church, calling itself the christian church, is founded. the epistles are dependant upon those, and must follow their fate; for if the story of jesus christ be fabulous, all reasoning founded upon it, as a supposed truth, must fall with it. we know from history, that one of the principal leaders of this church, athanasius, lived at the time the new testament was formed; [athanasius died, according to the church chronology, in the year --author.] and we know also, from the absurd jargon he has left us under the name of a creed, the character of the men who formed the new testament; and we know also from the same history that the authenticity of the books of which it is composed was denied at the time. it was upon the vote of such as athanasius that the testament was decreed to be the word of god; and nothing can present to us a more strange idea than that of decreeing the word of god by vote. those who rest their faith upon such authority put man in the place of god, and have no true foundation for future happiness. credulity, however, is not a crime, but it becomes criminal by resisting conviction. it is strangling in the womb of the conscience the efforts it makes to ascertain truth. we should never force belief upon ourselves in any thing. i here close the subject on the old testament and the new. the evidence i have produced to prove them forgeries, is extracted from the books themselves, and acts, like a two-edge sword, either way. if the evidence be denied, the authenticity of the scriptures is denied with it, for it is scripture evidence: and if the evidence be admitted, the authenticity of the books is disproved. the contradictory impossibilities, contained in the old testament and the new, put them in the case of a man who swears for and against. either evidence convicts him of perjury, and equally destroys reputation. should the bible and the testament hereafter fall, it is not that i have done it. i have done no more than extracted the evidence from the confused mass of matters with which it is mixed, and arranged that evidence in a point of light to be clearly seen and easily comprehended; and, having done this, i leave the reader to judge for himself, as i have judged for myself. chapter iii - conclusion in the former part of 'the age of reason' i have spoken of the three frauds, mystery, miracle, and prophecy; and as i have seen nothing in any of the answers to that work that in the least affects what i have there said upon those subjects, i shall not encumber this second part with additions that are not necessary. i have spoken also in the same work upon what is celled revelation, and have shown the absurd misapplication of that term to the books of the old testament and the new; for certainly revelation is out of the question in reciting any thing of which man has been the actor or the witness. that which man has done or seen, needs no revelation to tell him he has done it, or seen it--for he knows it already--nor to enable him to tell it or to write it. it is ignorance, or imposition, to apply the term revelation in such cases; yet the bible and testament are classed under this fraudulent description of being all revelation. revelation then, so far as the term has relation between god and man, can only be applied to something which god reveals of his will to man; but though the power of the almighty to make such a communication is necessarily admitted, because to that power all things are possible, yet, the thing so revealed (if any thing ever was revealed, and which, by the bye, it is impossible to prove) is revelation to the person only to whom it is made. his account of it to another is not revelation; and whoever puts faith in that account, puts it in the man from whom the account comes; and that man may have been deceived, or may have dreamed it; or he may be an impostor and may lie. there is no possible criterion whereby to judge of the truth of what he tells; for even the morality of it would be no proof of revelation. in all such cases, the proper answer should be, "when it is revealed to me, i will believe it to be revelation; but it is not and cannot be incumbent upon me to believe it to be revelation before; neither is it proper that i should take the word of man as the word of god, and put man in the place of god." this is the manner in which i have spoken of revelation in the former part of the age of reason; and which, whilst it reverentially admits revelation as a possible thing, because, as before said, to the almighty all things are possible, it prevents the imposition of one man upon another, and precludes the wicked use of pretended revelation. but though, speaking for myself, i thus admit the possibility of revelation, i totally disbelieve that the almighty ever did communicate any thing to man, by any mode of speech, in any language, or by any kind of vision, or appearance, or by any means which our senses are capable of receiving, otherwise than by the universal display of himself in the works of the creation, and by that repugnance we feel in ourselves to bad actions, and disposition to good ones. [a fair parallel of the then unknown aphorism of kant: "two things fill the soul with wonder and reverence, increasing evermore as i meditate more closely upon them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me." (kritik derpraktischen vernunfe, ). kant's religious utterances at the beginning of the french revolution brought on him a royal mandate of silence, because he had worked out from "the moral law within" a principle of human equality precisely similar to that which paine had derived from his quaker doctrine of the "inner light" of every man. about the same time paine's writings were suppressed in england. paine did not understand german, but kant, though always independent in the formation of his opinions, was evidently well acquainted with the literature of the revolution, in america, england, and france.--editor.] the most detestable wickedness, the most horrid cruelties, and the greatest miseries, that have afflicted the human race have had their origin in this thing called revelation, or revealed religion. it has been the most dishonourable belief against the character of the divinity, the most destructive to morality, and the peace and happiness of man, that ever was propagated since man began to exist. it is better, far better, that we admitted, if it were possible, a thousand devils to roam at large, and to preach publicly the doctrine of devils, if there were any such, than that we permitted one such impostor and monster as moses, joshua, samuel, and the bible prophets, to come with the pretended word of god in his mouth, and have credit among us. whence arose all the horrid assassinations of whole nations of men, women, and infants, with which the bible is filled; and the bloody persecutions, and tortures unto death and religious wars, that since that time have laid europe in blood and ashes; whence arose they, but from this impious thing called revealed religion, and this monstrous belief that god has spoken to man? the lies of the bible have been the cause of the one, and the lies of the testament [of] the other. some christians pretend that christianity was not established by the sword; but of what period of time do they speak? it was impossible that twelve men could begin with the sword: they had not the power; but no sooner were the professors of christianity sufficiently powerful to employ the sword than they did so, and the stake and faggot too; and mahomet could not do it sooner. by the same spirit that peter cut off the ear of the high priest's servant (if the story be true) he would cut off his head, and the head of his master, had he been able. besides this, christianity grounds itself originally upon the [hebrew] bible, and the bible was established altogether by the sword, and that in the worst use of it--not to terrify, but to extirpate. the jews made no converts: they butchered all. the bible is the sire of the [new] testament, and both are called the word of god. the christians read both books; the ministers preach from both books; and this thing called christianity is made up of both. it is then false to say that christianity was not established by the sword. the only sect that has not persecuted are the quakers; and the only reason that can be given for it is, that they are rather deists than christians. they do not believe much about jesus christ, and they call the scriptures a dead letter. [this is an interesting and correct testimony as to the beliefs of the earlier quakers, one of whom was paine's father.--editor.] had they called them by a worse name, they had been nearer the truth. it is incumbent on every man who reverences the character of the creator, and who wishes to lessen the catalogue of artificial miseries, and remove the cause that has sown persecutions thick among mankind, to expel all ideas of a revealed religion as a dangerous heresy, and an impious fraud. what is it that we have learned from this pretended thing called revealed religion? nothing that is useful to man, and every thing that is dishonourable to his maker. what is it the bible teaches us?--repine, cruelty, and murder. what is it the testament teaches us?--to believe that the almighty committed debauchery with a woman engaged to be married; and the belief of this debauchery is called faith. as to the fragments of morality that are irregularly and thinly scattered in those books, they make no part of this pretended thing, revealed religion. they are the natural dictates of conscience, and the bonds by which society is held together, and without which it cannot exist; and are nearly the same in all religions, and in all societies. the testament teaches nothing new upon this subject, and where it attempts to exceed, it becomes mean and ridiculous. the doctrine of not retaliating injuries is much better expressed in proverbs, which is a collection as well from the gentiles as the jews, than it is in the testament. it is there said, (xxv. i) "if thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat; and if he be thirsty, give him water to drink:" [according to what is called christ's sermon on the mount, in the book of matthew, where, among some other [and] good things, a great deal of this feigned morality is introduced, it is there expressly said, that the doctrine of forbearance, or of not retaliating injuries, was not any part of the doctrine of the jews; but as this doctrine is found in "proverbs," it must, according to that statement, have been copied from the gentiles, from whom christ had learned it. those men whom jewish and christian idolators have abusively called heathen, had much better and clearer ideas of justice and morality than are to be found in the old testament, so far as it is jewish, or in the new. the answer of solon on the question, "which is the most perfect popular govemment," has never been exceeded by any man since his time, as containing a maxim of political morality, "that," says he, "where the least injury done to the meanest individual, is considered as an insult on the whole constitution." solon lived about years before christ.--author.] but when it is said, as in the testament, "if a man smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also," it is assassinating the dignity of forbearance, and sinking man into a spaniel. loving, of enemies is another dogma of feigned morality, and has besides no meaning. it is incumbent on man, as a moralist, that he does not revenge an injury; and it is equally as good in a political sense, for there is no end to retaliation; each retaliates on the other, and calls it justice: but to love in proportion to the injury, if it could be done, would be to offer a premium for a crime. besides, the word enemies is too vague and general to be used in a moral maxim, which ought always to be clear and defined, like a proverb. if a man be the enemy of another from mistake and prejudice, as in the case of religious opinions, and sometimes in politics, that man is different to an enemy at heart with a criminal intention; and it is incumbent upon us, and it contributes also to our own tranquillity, that we put the best construction upon a thing that it will bear. but even this erroneous motive in him makes no motive for love on the other part; and to say that we can love voluntarily, and without a motive, is morally and physically impossible. morality is injured by prescribing to it duties that, in the first place, are impossible to be performed, and if they could be would be productive of evil; or, as before said, be premiums for crime. the maxim of doing as we would be done unto does not include this strange doctrine of loving enemies; for no man expects to be loved himself for his crime or for his enmity. those who preach this doctrine of loving their enemies, are in general the greatest persecutors, and they act consistently by so doing; for the doctrine is hypocritical, and it is natural that hypocrisy should act the reverse of what it preaches. for my own part, i disown the doctrine, and consider it as a feigned or fabulous morality; yet the man does not exist that can say i have persecuted him, or any man, or any set of men, either in the american revolution, or in the french revolution; or that i have, in any case, returned evil for evil. but it is not incumbent on man to reward a bad action with a good one, or to return good for evil; and wherever it is done, it is a voluntary act, and not a duty. it is also absurd to suppose that such doctrine can make any part of a revealed religion. we imitate the moral character of the creator by forbearing with each other, for he forbears with all; but this doctrine would imply that he loved man, not in proportion as he was good, but as he was bad. if we consider the nature of our condition here, we must see there is no occasion for such a thing as revealed religion. what is it we want to know? does not the creation, the universe we behold, preach to us the existence of an almighty power, that governs and regulates the whole? and is not the evidence that this creation holds out to our senses infinitely stronger than any thing we can read in a book, that any imposter might make and call the word of god? as for morality, the knowledge of it exists in every man's conscience. here we are. the existence of an almighty power is sufficiently demonstrated to us, though we cannot conceive, as it is impossible we should, the nature and manner of its existence. we cannot conceive how we came here ourselves, and yet we know for a fact that we are here. we must know also, that the power that called us into being, can if he please, and when he pleases, call us to account for the manner in which we have lived here; and therefore without seeking any other motive for the belief, it is rational to believe that he will, for we know beforehand that he can. the probability or even possibility of the thing is all that we ought to know; for if we knew it as a fact, we should be the mere slaves of terror; our belief would have no merit, and our best actions no virtue. deism then teaches us, without the possibility of being deceived, all that is necessary or proper to be known. the creation is the bible of the deist. he there reads, in the hand-writing of the creator himself, the certainty of his existence, and the immutability of his power; and all other bibles and testaments are to him forgeries. the probability that we may be called to account hereafter, will, to reflecting minds, have the influence of belief; for it is not our belief or disbelief that can make or unmake the fact. as this is the state we are in, and which it is proper we should be in, as free agents, it is the fool only, and not the philosopher, nor even the prudent man, that will live as if there were no god. but the belief of a god is so weakened by being mixed with the strange fable of the christian creed, and with the wild adventures related in the bible, and the obscurity and obscene nonsense of the testament, that the mind of man is bewildered as in a fog. viewing all these things in a confused mass, he confounds fact with fable; and as he cannot believe all, he feels a disposition to reject all. but the belief of a god is a belief distinct from all other things, and ought not to be confounded with any. the notion of a trinity of gods has enfeebled the belief of one god. a multiplication of beliefs acts as a division of belief; and in proportion as anything is divided, it is weakened. religion, by such means, becomes a thing of form instead of fact; of notion instead of principle: morality is banished to make room for an imaginary thing called faith, and this faith has its origin in a supposed debauchery; a man is preached instead of a god; an execution is an object for gratitude; the preachers daub themselves with the blood, like a troop of assassins, and pretend to admire the brilliancy it gives them; they preach a humdrum sermon on the merits of the execution; then praise jesus christ for being executed, and condemn the jews for doing it. a man, by hearing all this nonsense lumped and preached together, confounds the god of the creation with the imagined god of the christians, and lives as if there were none. of all the systems of religion that ever were invented, there is none more derogatory to the almighty, more unedifying to man, more repugnant to reason, and more contradictory in itself, than this thing called christianity. too absurd for belief, too impossible to convince, and too inconsistent for practice, it renders the heart torpid, or produces only atheists and fanatics. as an engine of power, it serves the purpose of despotism; and as a means of wealth, the avarice of priests; but so far as respects the good of man in general, it leads to nothing here or hereafter. the only religion that has not been invented, and that has in it every evidence of divine originality, is pure and simple deism. it must have been the first and will probably be the last that man believes. but pure and simple deism does not answer the purpose of despotic governments. they cannot lay hold of religion as an engine but by mixing it with human inventions, and making their own authority a part; neither does it answer the avarice of priests, but by incorporating themselves and their functions with it, and becoming, like the government, a party in the system. it is this that forms the otherwise mysterious connection of church and state; the church human, and the state tyrannic. were a man impressed as fully and strongly as he ought to be with the belief of a god, his moral life would be regulated by the force of belief; he would stand in awe of god, and of himself, and would not do the thing that could not be concealed from either. to give this belief the full opportunity of force, it is necessary that it acts alone. this is deism. but when, according to the christian trinitarian scheme, one part of god is represented by a dying man, and another part, called the holy ghost, by a flying pigeon, it is impossible that belief can attach itself to such wild conceits. [the book called the book of matthew, says, (iii. ,) that the holy ghost descended in the shape of a dove. it might as well have said a goose; the creatures are equally harmless, and the one is as much a nonsensical lie as the other. acts, ii. , , says, that it descended in a mighty rushing wind, in the shape of cloven tongues: perhaps it was cloven feet. such absurd stuff is fit only for tales of witches and wizards.--author.] it has been the scheme of the christian church, and of all the other invented systems of religion, to hold man in ignorance of the creator, as it is of government to hold him in ignorance of his rights. the systems of the one are as false as those of the other, and are calculated for mutual support. the study of theology as it stands in christian churches, is the study of nothing; it is founded on nothing; it rests on no principles; it proceeds by no authorities; it has no data; it can demonstrate nothing; and admits of no conclusion. not any thing can be studied as a science without our being in possession of the principles upon which it is founded; and as this is not the case with christian theology, it is therefore the study of nothing. instead then of studying theology, as is now done, out of the bible and testament, the meanings of which books are always controverted, and the authenticity of which is disproved, it is necessary that we refer to the bible of the creation. the principles we discover there are eternal, and of divine origin: they are the foundation of all the science that exists in the world, and must be the foundation of theology. we can know god only through his works. we cannot have a conception of any one attribute, but by following some principle that leads to it. we have only a confused idea of his power, if we have not the means of comprehending something of its immensity. we can have no idea of his wisdom, but by knowing the order and manner in which it acts. the principles of science lead to this knowledge; for the creator of man is the creator of science, and it is through that medium that man can see god, as it were, face to face. could a man be placed in a situation, and endowed with power of vision to behold at one view, and to contemplate deliberately, the structure of the universe, to mark the movements of the several planets, the cause of their varying appearances, the unerring order in which they revolve, even to the remotest comet, their connection and dependence on each other, and to know the system of laws established by the creator, that governs and regulates the whole; he would then conceive, far beyond what any church theology can teach him, the power, the wisdom, the vastness, the munificence of the creator. he would then see that all the knowledge man has of science, and that all the mechanical arts by which he renders his situation comfortable here, are derived from that source: his mind, exalted by the scene, and convinced by the fact, would increase in gratitude as it increased in knowledge: his religion or his worship would become united with his improvement as a man: any employment he followed that had connection with the principles of the creation,--as everything of agriculture, of science, and of the mechanical arts, has,--would teach him more of god, and of the gratitude he owes to him, than any theological christian sermon he now hears. great objects inspire great thoughts; great munificence excites great gratitude; but the grovelling tales and doctrines of the bible and the testament are fit only to excite contempt. though man cannot arrive, at least in this life, at the actual scene i have described, he can demonstrate it, because he has knowledge of the principles upon which the creation is constructed. we know that the greatest works can be represented in model, and that the universe can be represented by the same means. the same principles by which we measure an inch or an acre of ground will measure to millions in extent. a circle of an inch diameter has the same geometrical properties as a circle that would circumscribe the universe. the same properties of a triangle that will demonstrate upon paper the course of a ship, will do it on the ocean; and, when applied to what are called the heavenly bodies, will ascertain to a minute the time of an eclipse, though those bodies are millions of miles distant from us. this knowledge is of divine origin; and it is from the bible of the creation that man has learned it, and not from the stupid bible of the church, that teaches man nothing. [the bible-makers have undertaken to give us, in the first chapter of genesis, an account of the creation; and in doing this they have demonstrated nothing but their ignorance. they make there to have been three days and three nights, evenings and mornings, before there was any sun; when it is the presence or absence of the sun that is the cause of day and night--and what is called his rising and setting that of morning and evening. besides, it is a puerile and pitiful idea, to suppose the almighty to say, "let there be light." it is the imperative manner of speaking that a conjuror uses when he says to his cups and balls, presto, be gone--and most probably has been taken from it, as moses and his rod is a conjuror and his wand. longinus calls this expression the sublime; and by the same rule the conjurer is sublime too; for the manner of speaking is expressively and grammatically the same. when authors and critics talk of the sublime, they see not how nearly it borders on the ridiculous. the sublime of the critics, like some parts of edmund burke's sublime and beautiful, is like a windmill just visible in a fog, which imagination might distort into a flying mountain, or an archangel, or a flock of wild geese.--author.] all the knowledge man has of science and of machinery, by the aid of which his existence is rendered comfortable upon earth, and without which he would be scarcely distinguishable in appearance and condition from a common animal, comes from the great machine and structure of the universe. the constant and unwearied observations of our ancestors upon the movements and revolutions of the heavenly bodies, in what are supposed to have been the early ages of the world, have brought this knowledge upon earth. it is not moses and the prophets, nor jesus christ, nor his apostles, that have done it. the almighty is the great mechanic of the creation, the first philosopher, and original teacher of all science. let us then learn to reverence our master, and not forget the labours of our ancestors. had we, at this day, no knowledge of machinery, and were it possible that man could have a view, as i have before described, of the structure and machinery of the universe, he would soon conceive the idea of constructing some at least of the mechanical works we now have; and the idea so conceived would progressively advance in practice. or could a model of the universe, such as is called an orrery, be presented before him and put in motion, his mind would arrive at the same idea. such an object and such a subject would, whilst it improved him in knowledge useful to himself as a man and a member of society, as well as entertaining, afford far better matter for impressing him with a knowledge of, and a belief in the creator, and of the reverence and gratitude that man owes to him, than the stupid texts of the bible and the testament, from which, be the talents of the preacher; what they may, only stupid sermons can be preached. if man must preach, let him preach something that is edifying, and from the texts that are known to be true. the bible of the creation is inexhaustible in texts. every part of science, whether connected with the geometry of the universe, with the systems of animal and vegetable life, or with the properties of inanimate matter, is a text as well for devotion as for philosophy--for gratitude, as for human improvement. it will perhaps be said, that if such a revolution in the system of religion takes place, every preacher ought to be a philosopher. most certainly, and every house of devotion a school of science. it has been by wandering from the immutable laws of science, and the light of reason, and setting up an invented thing called "revealed religion," that so many wild and blasphemous conceits have been formed of the almighty. the jews have made him the assassin of the human species, to make room for the religion of the jews. the christians have made him the murderer of himself, and the founder of a new religion to supersede and expel the jewish religion. and to find pretence and admission for these things, they must have supposed his power or his wisdom imperfect, or his will changeable; and the changeableness of the will is the imperfection of the judgement. the philosopher knows that the laws of the creator have never changed, with respect either to the principles of science, or the properties of matter. why then is it to be supposed they have changed with respect to man? i here close the subject. i have shown in all the foregoing parts of this work that the bible and testament are impositions and forgeries; and i leave the evidence i have produced in proof of it to be refuted, if any one can do it; and i leave the ideas that are suggested in the conclusion of the work to rest on the mind of the reader; certain as i am that when opinions are free, either in matters of govemment or religion, truth will finally and powerfully prevail. end of part ii discourses on the first decade of titus livius by niccolo machiavelli citizen and secretary of florence translated from the italian by ninian hill thomson, m.a. london kegan paul, trench & co., , paternoster square to professor pasquale villari. dear professor villari, permit me to inscribe your name on a translation of machiavelli's discourses which i had your encouragement to undertake, and in which i have done my best to preserve something of the flavour of the original. yours faithfully, ninian hill thomson. florence, may , . book i. preface chapter i. of the beginnings of cities in general, and in particular of that of rome ii. of the various kinds of government; and to which of them the roman commonwealth belonged iii. of the accidents which led in rome to the creation of tribunes of the people, whereby the republic was made more perfect iv. that the dissensions between the senate and commons of rome made rome free and powerful v. whether the guardianship of public freedom is safer in the hands of the commons or of the nobles; and whether those who seek to acquire power, or they who seek to maintain it, are the greater cause of commotions vi. whether it was possible in rome to contrive such a government as would have composed the differences between the commons and the senate vii. that to preserve liberty in a state, there must exist the right to accuse viii. that calumny is as hurtful in a commonwealth as the power to accuse is useful ix. that to give new institutions to a commonwealth, or to reconstruct old institutions on an entirely new basis, must be the work of one man x. that in proportion as the founder of a kingdom or commonwealth merits praise, he who founds a tyranny deserves blame xi. of the religion of the romans xii. that it is of much moment to make account of religion; and that italy, through the roman church, being wanting therein, has been ruined xiii. of the use the romans made of religion in giving institutions to their city; in carrying out their enterprises; and in quelling tumults xiv. that the romans interpreted the auspices to meet the occasion; and made a prudent show of observing the rites of religion even when forced to disregard them; and any who rashly slighted religion they punished xv. how the samnites, as a last resource in their broken fortunes, had recourse to religion xvi. that a people accustomed to live under a prince, if by any accident it become free, can hardly preserve that freedom xvii. that a corrupt people obtaining freedom can hardly preserve it xviii. how a free government existing in a corrupt city may be preserved, or not existing may be created xix. after a strong prince a weak prince may maintain himself: but after one weak prince no kingdom can stand a second xx. that the consecutive reigns of two valiant princes produce great results: and that well-ordered commonwealths are assured of a succession of valiant rulers by whom their power and growth are rapidly extended xxi. that it is a great reproach to a prince or to a commonwealth to be without a national army xxii. what is to be noted in the combat of the three roman horatii and the three alban curiatii xxiii. that we should never hazard our whole fortunes, where we put not forth our entire strength; for which reason to guard a defile is often hurtful xxiv. that well-ordered states always provide rewards and punishments for their citizens; and never set off deserts against misdeeds xxv. that he who would reform the institutions of a free state, must retain at least the semblance of old ways xxvi. that a new prince in a city or province of which he has taken possession, ought to make everything new xxvii. that men seldom know how to be wholly good or wholly bad xxviii. whence it came that the romans were less ungrateful to their citizens than were the athenians xxix. whether a people or a prince is the more ungrateful xxx. how princes and commonwealths may avoid the vice of ingratitude; and how a captain or citizen may escape being undone by it xxxi. that the roman captains were never punished with extreme severity for misconduct; and where loss resulted to the republic merely through their ignorance or want of judgment, were not punished at all xxxii. that a prince or commonwealth should not defer benefits until they are forced to yield them xxxiii. when a mischief has grown up in, or against a state, it is safer to temporize with it than to meet it with violence xxxiv. that the authority of the dictator did good and not harm to the roman republic; and that it is, not those powers which are given by the free suffrages of the people, but those which ambitious citizens usurp for themselves that are pernicious to a state xxxv. why the creation of the decemvirate in rome, although brought about by the free and open suffrage of the citizens, was hurtful to the liberties of that republic xxxvi. that citizens who have held the higher offices of a commonwealth should not disdain the lower xxxvii. of the mischief bred in rome by the agrarian law: and how it is a great source of disorder in a commonwealth to pass a law opposed to ancient usage with stringent retrospective effect xxxviii. that weak republics are irresolute and undecided; and that the course they may take depends more on necessity than choice xxxix. that often the same accidents are seen to befall different nations xl. of the creation of the decemvirate in rome, and what therein is to be noted. wherein among other matters it is shown how the same causes may lead to the safety or to the ruin of a commonwealth xli. that it is unwise to pass at a bound from leniency to severity, or to a haughty bearing from a humble xlii. how easily men become corrupted xliii. that men fighting in their own cause make good and resolute soldiers xliv. that the multitude is helpless without a head: and that we should not with the same breath threaten and ask leave xlv. that it is of evil example, especially in the maker of a law, not to observe the law when made: and that daily to renew acts of severity in a city is most hurtful to the governor xlvi. that men climb from one step of ambition to another, seeking at first to escape injury, and then to injure others xlvii. that though men deceive themselves in generalities, in particulars they judge truly xlviii. he who would not have an office bestowed on some worthless or wicked person, should contrive that it be solicited by one who is utterly worthless and wicked, or else by one who is in the highest degree noble and good xlix. that if cities which, like rome, had their beginning in freedom, have had difficulty in framing such laws as would preserve their freedom, cities which at the first have been in subjection will find this almost impossible l. that neither any council nor any magistrate should have power to bring the government of a city to a stay li. what a prince or republic does of necessity, should seem to be done by choice lii. that to check the arrogance of a citizen who is growing too powerful in a state, there is no safer method, nor less open to objection, than to forestall him in those ways whereby he seeks to advance himself liii. that the people, deceived by a false show of advantage, often desire what would be their ruin; and that large hopes and brave promises easily move them liv. of the boundless authority which a great man may use to restrain an excited multitude lv. that the government is easily carried on in a city wherein the body of the people is not corrupted: and that a princedom is impossible where equality prevails, and a republic where it does not lvi. that when great calamities are about to befall a city or country, signs are seen to presage, and seers arise who foretell them lvii. that the people are strong collectively, but individually weak lviii. that a people is wiser and more constant than a prince lix. to what leagues or alliances we may most trust, whether those we make with commonwealths or those we make with princes lx. that the consulship and all the other magistracies in rome were given without respect to age book ii. preface i. whether the empire acquired by the romans was more due to valour or to fortune ii. with what nations the romans had to contend, and how stubborn these were in defending their freedom iii. that rome became great by destroying the cities which lay round about her, and by readily admitting strangers to the rights of citizenship iv. that commonwealths have followed three methods for extending their power v. that changes in sects and tongues, and the happening of floods and pestilences, obliterate the memory of the past vi. of the methods followed by the romans in making war vii. of the quantity of land assigned by the romans to each colonist viii. why certain nations leave their ancestral seats and overflow the countries of others ix. of the causes which commonly give rise to wars between states x. that contrary to the vulgar opinion, money is not the sinews of war xi. that it were unwise to ally yourself with a prince who has reputation rather than strength xii. whether when invasion is imminent it is better to anticipate or to await it xiii. that men rise from humble to high fortunes rather by fraud than by force xiv. that men often err in thinking they can subdue pride by humility xv. that weak states are always dubious in their resolves; and that tardy resolves are always hurtful xvi. that the soldiers of our days depart widely from the methods of ancient warfare xvii. what importance the armies of the present day should allow to artillery; and whether the commonly received opinion concerning it be just xviii. that the authority of the romans and the example of ancient warfare should make us hold foot soldiers of more account than horse xix. that conquests made by ill governed states and such as follow not the valiant methods of the romans, lend rather to their ruin than to their aggrandizement xx. of the dangers incurred by princes or republics who resort to auxiliary or mercenary arms xxi. that capua was the first city to which the romans sent a prætor; nor there, until four hundred years after they began to make war xxii. that in matters of moment men often judge amiss xxiii. that in chastising then subjects when circumstances required it the romans always avoided half measures xxiv. that, commonly, fortresses do much more harm than good xxv. that he who attacks a city divided against itself, must not think to get possession of it through its divisions xxvi. that taunts and abuse breed hatred against him who uses them, without yielding him any advantage xxvii. that prudent princes and republics should be content to have obtained a victory; for, commonly, when they are not, their victory turns to defeat xxviii. that to neglect the redress of grievances, whether public or private, is dangerous for a prince or commonwealth xxix. that fortune obscures the minds of men when she would not have them hinder her designs xxx. that really powerful princes and commonwealths do not buy friendships with money, but with their valour and the fame of then prowess xxxi. of the danger of trusting banished men xxxii. in how many ways the romans gained possession of towns xxxiii. that the romans entrusted the captains of their armies with the fullest powers book iii. i. for a sect or commonwealth to last long, it must often be brought back to its beginnings ii. that on occasion it is wise to feign folly iii. that to preserve a newly acquired freedom we must slay the sons of brutus iv. that an usurper is never safe in his princedom while those live whom he has deprived of it v. how an hereditary king may come to lose his kingdom vi. of conspiracies vii. why it is that changes from freedom to servitude, and from servitude to freedom, are sometimes made without bloodshed, but at other times reek with blood viii. that he who would effect changes in a commonwealth, must give heed to its character and condition ix. that to enjoy constant good fortune we must change with the times x. that a captain cannot escape battle when his enemy forces it on him at all hazards xi. that one who has to contend with many, though he be weaker than they, will prevail if he can withstand their first onset xii. a prudent captain will do what he can to make it necessary for his own soldiers to fight, and to relieve his enemy from that necessity xiii. whether we may trust more to a valiant captain with a weak army, or to a valiant army with a weak captain xiv. of the effect produced in battle by strange and unexpected sights or sounds xv. that one and not many should head an army; and why it is disadvantageous to have more leaders than one xvi. that in times of difficulty true worth is sought after whereas in quiet times it is not the most deserving but those who are recommended by wealth or connection who are most in favour xvii. that we are not to offend a man, and then send him to fill an important office or command xviii. that it is the highest quality of a captain to be able to forestall the designs of his adversary xix. whether indulgence or severity be more necessary for controlling a multitude xx. how one humane act availed more with the men of falerii than all the might of the roman arms xxi. how it happened that hannibal pursuing a course contrary to that taken by scipio, wrought the same results in italy which the other achieved in spain xxii. that the severity of manlius torquatus and the gentleness of valerius corvinus won for both the same glory xxiii. why camillus was banished from rome xxiv. that prolonged commands brought rome to servitude xxv. of the poverty of cincinnatus and of many other roman citizens xxvi. how women are a cause of the ruin of states xxvii. how a divided city may be reunited; and how it is a false opinion that to hold cities in subjection they must be kept divided xxviii. that a republic must keep an eye on what its citizens are about; since often the seeds of a tyranny lie hidden under a semblance of generous deeds xxix. that the faults of a people are due to its prince xxx. that a citizen who seeks by his personal influence to render signal service to his country, must first stand clear of envy. how a city should prepare for its defence on the approach of an enemy xxxi that strong republics and valiant men preserve through every change the same spirit and bearing xxxii. of the methods which some have used to make peace impossible xxxiii. that to insure victory in battle, you must inspire your soldiers with confidence in one another and in you xxxiv. by what reports, rumours, or surmises the citizens of a republic are led to favour a fellow-citizen: and whether the magistracies are bestowed with better judgment by a people or by a prince xxxv. of the danger incurred in being the first to recommend new measures; and that the more unusual the measures, the greater the danger xxxvi. why it has been and still may be affirmed of the gauls, that at the beginning of a fray they are more than men, but afterwards less than women xxxvii. whether a general engagement should be preceded by skirmishes; and how, avoiding these, we may get knowledge of a new enemy xxxviii. of the qualities of a captain in whom his soldiers can confide xxxix. that a captain should have good knowledge of places xl. that fraud is fair in war xli. that our country is to be defended by honour or by dishonour, and in either way is well defended xlii. that promises made on compulsion are not to be observed xliii. that men born in the same province retain through all times nearly the same character xliv. that where ordinary methods fail, hardihood and daring often succeed xlv. whether in battle it is better to await and repel the enemy's attack, or to anticipate it by an impetuous onset xlvi. how the characteristics of families come to be perpetuated xlvii. that love of his country should lead a good citizen to forget private wrongs xlviii. that on finding an enemy make what seems a grave blunder we should suspect some fraud to lurk behind xlix. that a commonwealth to preserve its freedom has constant need of new ordinances. of the services in respect of which quintius fabius received the surname of maximus niccolÒ machiavelli to zanobi buondelmonti and cosimo rucellai health. i send you a gift, which if it answers ill the obligations i owe you, is at any rate the greatest which niccolò machiavelli has it in his power to offer. for in it i have expressed whatever i have learned, or have observed for myself during a long experience and constant study of human affairs. and since neither you nor any other can expect more at my hands, you cannot complain if i have not given you more. you may indeed lament the poverty of my wit, since what i have to say is but poorly said; and tax the weakness of my judgment, which on many points may have erred in its conclusions. but granting all this, i know not which of us is less beholden to the other: i to you, who have forced me to write what of myself i never should have written; or you to me, who have written what can give you no content. take this, however, in the spirit in which all that comes from a friend should be taken, in respect whereof we always look more to the intention of the giver than to the quality of the gift. and, believe me, that in one thing only i find satisfaction, namely, in knowing that while in many matters i may have made mistakes, at least i have not been mistaken in choosing you before all others as the persons to whom i dedicate these discourses; both because i seem to myself, in doing so, to have shown a little gratitude for kindness received, and at the same time to have departed from the hackneyed custom which leads many authors to inscribe their works to some prince, and blinded by hopes of favour or reward, to praise him as possessed of every virtue; whereas with more reason they might reproach him as contaminated with every shameful vice. to avoid which error i have chosen, not those who are but those who from their infinite merits deserve to be princes; not such persons as have it in their power to load me with honours, wealth, and preferment, but such as though they lack the power, have all the will to do so. for men, if they would judge justly, should esteem those who are, and not those whose means enable them to be generous; and in like manner those who know how to govern kingdoms, rather than those who possess the government without such knowledge. for historians award higher praise to hiero of syracuse when in a private station than to perseus the macedonian when a king affirming that while the former lacked nothing that a prince should have save the name, the latter had nothing of the king but the kingdom. make the most, therefore, of this good or this evil, as you may esteem it, which you have brought upon yourselves; and should you persist in the mistake of thinking my opinions worthy your attention, i shall not fail to proceed with the rest of the history in the manner promised in my preface. _farewell_. discourses on the first decade of titus livius. book i. * * * * * preface. albeit the jealous temper of mankind, ever more disposed to censure than to praise the work of others, has constantly made the pursuit of new methods and systems no less perilous than the search after unknown lands and seas; nevertheless, prompted by that desire which nature has implanted in me, fearlessly to undertake whatsoever i think offers a common benefit to all, i enter on a path which, being hitherto untrodden by any, though it involve me in trouble and fatigue, may yet win me thanks from those who judge my efforts in a friendly spirit. and although my feeble discernment, my slender experience of current affairs, and imperfect knowledge of ancient events, render these efforts of mine defective and of no great utility, they may at least open the way to some other, who, with better parts and sounder reasoning and judgment, shall carry out my design; whereby, if i gain no credit, at all events i ought to incur no blame. when i see antiquity held in such reverence, that to omit other instances, the mere fragment of some ancient statue is often bought at a great price, in order that the purchaser may keep it by him to adorn his house, or to have it copied by those who take delight in this art; and how these, again, strive with all their skill to imitate it in their various works; and when, on the other hand, i find those noble labours which history shows to have been wrought on behalf of the monarchies and republics of old times, by kings, captains, citizens, lawgivers, and others who have toiled for the good of their country, rather admired than followed, nay, so absolutely renounced by every one that not a trace of that antique worth is now left among us, i cannot but at once marvel and grieve; at this inconsistency; and all the more because i perceive that, in civil disputes between citizens, and in the bodily disorders into which men fall, recourse is always had to the decisions and remedies, pronounced or prescribed by the ancients. for the civil law is no more than the opinions delivered by the ancient jurisconsults, which, being reduced to a system, teach the jurisconsults of our own times how to determine; while the healing art is simply the recorded experience of the old physicians, on which our modern physicians found their practice. and yet, in giving laws to a commonwealth, in maintaining states and governing kingdoms, in organizing armies and conducting wars, in dealing with subject nations, and in extending a state's dominions, we find no prince, no republic, no captain, and no citizen who resorts to the example of the ancients. this i persuade myself is due, not so much to the feebleness to which the present methods of education have brought the world, or to the injury which a pervading apathy has wrought in many provinces and cities of christendom, as to the want of a right intelligence of history, which renders men incapable in reading it to extract its true meaning or to relish its flavour. whence it happens that by far the greater number of those who read history, take pleasure in following the variety of incidents which it presents, without a thought to imitate them; judging such imitation to be not only difficult but impossible; as though the heavens, the sun, the elements, and man himself were no longer the same as they formerly were as regards motion, order, and power. desiring to rescue men from this error, i have thought fit to note down with respect to all those books of titus livius which have escaped the malignity of time, whatever seems to me essential to a right understanding of ancient and modern affairs; so that any who shall read these remarks of mine, may reap from them that profit for the sake of which a knowledge of history is to be sought. and although the task be arduous, still, with the help of those at whose instance i assumed the burthen, i hope to carry it forward so far, that another shall have no long way to go to bring it to its destination. chapter i.--_of the beginnings of cities in general, and in particular of that of rome._ no one who reads how the city of rome had its beginning, who were its founders, and what its ordinances and laws, will marvel that so much excellence was maintained in it through many ages, or that it grew afterwards to be so great an empire. and, first, as touching its origin, i say, that all cities have been founded either by the people of the country in which they stand, or by strangers. cities have their origins in the former of these two ways when the inhabitants of a country find that they cannot live securely if they live dispersed in many and small societies, each of them unable, whether from its situation or its slender numbers, to stand alone against the attacks of its enemies; on whose approach there is no time left to unite for defence without abandoning many strongholds, and thus becoming an easy prey to the invader. to escape which dangers, whether of their own motion or at the instance of some of greater authority among them, they restrict themselves to dwell together in certain places, which they think will be more convenient to live in and easier to defend. among many cities taking their origin in this way were athens and venice; the former of which, for reasons like those just now mentioned, was built by a scattered population under the direction of theseus. to escape the wars which, on the decay of the roman empire daily renewed in italy by the arrival of fresh hordes of barbarians, numerous refugees, sheltering in certain little islands in a corner of the adriatic sea, gave beginning to venice; where, without any recognized leader to direct them, they agreed to live together under such laws as they thought best suited to maintain them. and by reason of the prolonged tranquility which their position secured, they being protected by the narrow sea and by the circumstance that the tribes who then harassed italy had no ships wherewith to molest them, they were able from very small beginnings to attain to that greatness they now enjoy. in the second case, namely of a city being founded by strangers, the settlers are either wholly independent, or they are controlled by others, as where colonies are sent forth either by a prince or by a republic, to relieve their countries of an excessive population, or to defend newly acquired territories which it is sought to secure at small cost. of this sort many cities were settled by the romans, and in all parts of their dominions. it may also happen that such cities are founded by a prince merely to add to his renown, without any intention on his part to dwell there, as alexandria was built by alexander the great. cities like these, not having had their beginning in freedom, seldom make such progress as to rank among the chief towns of kingdoms. the city of florence belongs to that class of towns which has not been independent from the first; for whether we ascribe its origin to the soldiers of sylla, or, as some have conjectured, to the mountaineers of fiesole (who, emboldened by the long peace which prevailed throughout the world during the reign of octavianus, came down to occupy the plain on the banks of the arno), in either case, it was founded under the auspices of rome nor could, at first, make other progress than was permitted by the grace of the sovereign state. the origin of cities may be said to be independent when a people, either by themselves or under some prince, are constrained by famine, pestilence, or war to leave their native land and seek a new habitation. settlers of this sort either establish themselves in cities which they find ready to their hand in the countries of which they take possession, as did moses; or they build new ones, as did Æneas. it is in this last case that the merits of a founder and the good fortune of the city founded are best seen; and this good fortune will be more or less remarkable according to the greater or less capacity of him who gives the city its beginning. the capacity of a founder is known in two ways: by his choice of a site, or by the laws which he frames. and since men act either of necessity or from choice, and merit may seem greater where choice is more restricted, we have to consider whether it may not be well to choose a sterile district as the site of a new city, in order that the inhabitants, being constrained to industry, and less corrupted by ease, may live in closer union, finding less cause for division in the poverty of their land; as was the case in ragusa, and in many other cities built in similar situations. such a choice were certainly the wisest and the most advantageous, could men be content to enjoy what is their own without seeking to lord it over others. but since to be safe they must be strong, they are compelled avoid these barren districts, and to plant themselves in more fertile regions; where, the fruitfulness of the soil enabling them to increase and multiply, they may defend themselves against any who attack them, and overthrow any who would withstand their power. and as for that languor which the situation might breed, care must be had that hardships which the site does not enforce, shall be enforced by the laws; and that the example of those wise nations be imitated, who, inhabiting most fruitful and delightful countries, and such as were likely to rear a listless and effeminate race, unfit for all manly exercises, in order to obviate the mischief wrought by the amenity and relaxing influence of the soil and climate, subjected all who were to serve as soldiers to the severest training; whence it came that better soldiers were raised in these countries than in others by nature rugged and barren. such, of old, was the kingdom of the egyptians, which, though of all lands the most bountiful, yet, by the severe training which its laws enforced, produced most valiant soldiers, who, had their names not been lost in antiquity, might be thought to deserve more praise than alexander the great and many besides, whose memory is still fresh in men's minds. and even in recent times, any one contemplating the kingdom of the soldan, and the military order of the mamelukes before they were destroyed by selim the grand turk, must have seen how carefully they trained their soldiers in every kind of warlike exercise; showing thereby how much they dreaded that indolence to which their genial soil and climate might have disposed them, unless neutralized by strenuous laws. i say, then, that it is a prudent choice to found your city in a fertile region when the effects of that fertility are duly balanced by the restraint of the laws. when alexander the great thought to add to his renown by founding a city, dinocrates the architect came and showed him how he might build it on mount athos, which not only offered a strong position, but could be handled that the city built there might present a semblance of the human form, which would be a thing strange and striking, and worthy of so great a monarch. but on alexander asking how the inhabitants were to live, dinocrates answered that he had not thought of that. whereupon, alexander laughed, and leaving mount athos as it stood, built alexandria; where, the fruitfulness of the soil, and the vicinity of the nile and the sea, might attract many to take up their abode. to him, therefore, who inquires into the origin of rome, if he assign its beginning to Æneas, it will seem to be of those cities which were founded by strangers if to romulus, then of those founded by the natives of the country. but in whichever class we place it, it will be seen to have had its beginning in freedom, and not in subjection to another state. it will be seen, too, as hereafter shall be noted, how strict was the discipline which the laws instituted by romulus, numa, and its other founders made compulsory upon it; so that neither its fertility, the proximity of the sea, the number of its victories, nor the extent of its dominion, could for many centuries corrupt it, but, on the contrary, maintained it replete with such virtues as were never matched in any other commonwealth. and because the things done by rome, and which titus livius has celebrated, were effected at home or abroad by public or by private wisdom, i shall begin by treating, and noting the consequences of those things done at home in accordance with the public voice, which seem most to merit attention; and to this object the whole of this first book or first part of my discourses, shall be directed. chapter ii.--of the various kinds of government; and to which of them the roman commonwealth belonged. i forego all discussion concerning those cities which at the outset have been dependent upon others, and shall speak only of those which from their earliest beginnings have stood entirely clear of all foreign control, being governed from the first as pleased themselves, whether as republics or as princedoms. these as they have had different origins, so likewise have had different laws and institutions. for to some at their very first commencement, or not long after, laws have been given by a single legislator, and all at one time; like those given by lycurgus to the spartans; while to others they have been given at different times, as need rose or accident determined; as in the case of rome. that republic, indeed, may be called happy, whose lot has been to have a founder so prudent as to provide for it laws under which it can continue to live securely, without need to amend them; as we find sparta preserving hers for eight hundred years, without deterioration and without any dangerous disturbance. on the other hand, some measure of unhappiness attaches to the state which, not having yielded itself once for all into the hands of a single wise legislator, is obliged to recast its institutions for itself; and of such states, by far the most unhappy is that which is furthest removed from a sound system of government, by which i mean that its institutions lie wholly outside the path which might lead it to a true and perfect end. for it is scarcely possible that a state in this position can ever, by any chance, set itself to rights, whereas another whose institutions are imperfect, if it have made a good beginning and such as admits of its amendment, may in the course of events arrive at perfection. it is certain, however, that such states can never be reformed without great risk; for, as a rule, men will accept no new law altering the institutions of their state, unless the necessity for such a change be demonstrated; and since this necessity cannot arise without danger, the state may easily be overthrown before the new order of things is established. in proof whereof we may instance the republic of florence, which was reformed in the year , in consequence of the affair of arezzo, but was ruined in , in consequence of the affair of prato. desiring, therefore, to discuss the nature of the government of rome, and to ascertain the accidental circumstances which brought it to its perfection, i say, as has been said before by many who have written of governments, that of these there are three forms, known by the names monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, and that those who give its institutions to a state have recourse to one or other of these three, according as it suits their purpose. other, and, as many have thought, wiser teachers, will have it, that there are altogether six forms of government, three of them utterly bad, the other three good in themselves, but so readily corrupted that they too are apt to become hurtful. the good are the three above named; the bad, three others dependent upon these, and each so like that to which it is related, that it is easy to pass imperceptibly from the one to the other. for a monarchy readily becomes a tyranny, an aristocracy an oligarchy, while a democracy tends to degenerate into anarchy. so that if the founder of a state should establish any one of these three forms of government, he establishes it for a short time only, since no precaution he may take can prevent it from sliding into its contrary, by reason of the close resemblance which, in this case, the virtue bears to the vice. these diversities in the form of government spring up among men by chance. for in the beginning of the world, its inhabitants, being few in number, for a time lived scattered after the fashion of beasts; but afterwards, as they increased and multiplied, gathered themselves into societies, and, the better to protect themselves, began to seek who among them was the strongest and of the highest courage, to whom, making him their head, they tendered obedience. next arose the knowledge of such things as are honourable and good, as opposed to those which are bad and shameful. for observing that when a man wronged his benefactor, hatred was universally felt for the one and sympathy for the other, and that the ungrateful were blamed, while those who showed gratitude were honoured, and reflecting that the wrongs they saw done to others might be done to themselves, to escape these they resorted to making laws and fixing punishments against any who should transgress them; and in this way grew the recognition of justice. whence it came that afterwards, in choosing their rulers, men no longer looked about for the strongest, but for him who was the most prudent and the most just. but, presently, when sovereignty grew to be hereditary and no longer elective, hereditary sovereigns began to degenerate from their ancestors, and, quitting worthy courses, took up the notion that princes had nothing to do but to surpass the rest of the world in sumptuous display and wantonness, and whatever else ministers to pleasure so that the prince coming to be hated, and therefore to feel fear, and passing from fear to infliction of injuries, a tyranny soon sprang up. forthwith there began movements to overthrow the prince, and plots and conspiracies against him undertaken not by those who were weak, or afraid for themselves, but by such as being conspicuous for their birth, courage, wealth, and station, could not tolerate the shameful life of the tyrant. the multitude, following the lead of these powerful men, took up arms against the prince and, he being got rid of, obeyed these others as their liberators; who, on their part, holding in hatred the name of sole ruler, formed themselves into a government and at first, while the recollection of past tyranny was still fresh, observed the laws they themselves made, and postponing personal advantage to the common welfare, administered affairs both publicly and privately with the utmost diligence and zeal. but this government passing, afterwards, to their descendants who, never having been taught in the school of adversity, knew nothing of the vicissitudes of fortune, these not choosing to rest content with mere civil equality, but abandoning themselves to avarice, ambition, and lust, converted, without respect to civil rights what had been a government of the best into a government of the few; and so very soon met with the same fate as the tyrant. for the multitude loathing its rulers, lent itself to any who ventured, in whatever way, to attack them; when some one man speedily arose who with the aid of the people overthrew them. but the recollection of the tyrant and of the wrongs suffered at his hands being still fresh in the minds of the people, who therefore felt no desire to restore the monarchy, they had recourse to a popular government, which they established on such a footing that neither king nor nobles had any place in it. and because all governments inspire respect at the first, this government also lasted for a while, but not for long, and seldom after the generation which brought it into existence had died out. for, suddenly, liberty passed into license, wherein neither private worth nor public authority was respected, but, every one living as he liked, a thousand wrongs were done daily. whereupon, whether driven by necessity, or on the suggestion of some wiser man among them and to escape anarchy, the people reverted to a monarchy, from which, step by step, in the manner and for the causes already assigned, they came round once more to license. for this is the circle revolving within which all states are and have been governed; although in the same state the same forms of government rarely repeat themselves, because hardly any state can have such vitality as to pass through such a cycle more than once, and still together. for it may be expected that in some sea of disaster, when a state must always be wanting prudent counsels and in strength, it will become subject to some neighbouring and better-governed state; though assuming this not to happen, it might well pass for an indefinite period from one of these forms of government to another. i say, then, that all these six forms of government are pernicious--the three good kinds, from their brief duration the three bad, from their inherent badness. wise legislators therefore, knowing these defects, and avoiding each of these forms in its simplicity, have made choice of a form which shares in the qualities of all the first three, and which they judge to be more stable and lasting than any of these separately. for where we have a monarchy, an aristocracy, and a democracy existing together in the same city, each of the three serves as a check upon the other. among those who have earned special praise by devising a constitution of this nature, was lycurgus, who so framed the laws of sparta as to assign their proper functions to kings, nobles, and commons; and in this way established a government, which, to his great glory and to the peace and tranquility of his country, lasted for more than eight hundred years. the contrary, however, happened in the case of solon; who by the turn he gave to the institutions of athens, created there a purely democratic government, of such brief duration, that i himself lived to witness the beginning of the despotism of pisistratus. and although, forty years later, the heirs of pisistratus were driven out, and athens recovered her freedom, nevertheless because she reverted to the same form government as had been established by solon, she could maintain it for only a hundred years more; for though to preserve it, many ordinances were passed for repressing the ambition of the great and the turbulence of the people, against which solon had not provided, still, since neither the monarchic nor the aristocratic element was given a place in her constitution, athens, as compared with sparta, had but a short life. but let us now turn to rome, which city, although she had no lycurgus to give her from the first such a constitution as would preserve her long in freedom, through a series of accidents, caused by the contests between the commons and the senate, obtained by chance what the foresight of her founders failed to provide. so that fortune, if she bestowed not her first favours on rome, bestowed her second; because, although the original institutions of this city were defective, still they lay not outside the true path which could bring them to perfection. for romulus and the other kings made many and good laws, and such as were not incompatible with freedom; but because they sought to found a kingdom and not a commonwealth, when the city became free many things were found wanting which in the interest of liberty it was necessary to supply, since these kings had not supplied them. and although the kings of rome lost their sovereignty, in the manner and for the causes mentioned above, nevertheless those who drove them out, by at once creating two consuls to take their place, preserved in rome the regal authority while banishing from it the regal throne, so that as both senate and consuls were included in that republic, it in fact possessed two of the elements above enumerated, to wit, the monarchic and the aristocratic. it then only remained to assign its place to the popular element, and the roman nobles growing insolent from causes which shall be noticed hereafter, the commons against them, when, not to lose the whole of their power, they were forced to concede a share to the people; while with the share which remained, the senate and consuls retained so much authority that they still held their own place in the republic. in this way the tribunes of the people came to be created, after whose creation the stability of the state was much augmented, since each the three forms of government had now its due influence allowed it. and such was the good fortune of rome that although her government passed from the kings to the nobles, and from these to the people, by the steps and for the reasons noticed above, still the entire authority of the kingly element was not sacrificed to strengthen the authority of the nobles, nor were the nobles divested of their authority to bestow it on the commons; but three, blending together, made up a perfect state; which perfection, as shall be fully shown in the next two chapters, was reached through the dissensions of the commons and the senate. chapter iii.--of the accidents which led in rome to the creation of tribunes of the people; whereby the republic was made more perfect. they who lay the foundations of a state and furnish it with laws must, as is shown by all who have treated of civil government, and by examples of which history is full, assume that 'all men are bad, and will always, when they have free field, give loose to their evil inclinations; and that if these for a while remain hidden, it is owing to some secret cause, which, from our having no contrary experience, we do not recognize at once, but which is afterwards revealed by time, of whom we speak as the father of all truth. in rome, after the expulsion of the tarquins, it seemed as though the closest union prevailed between the senate and the commons, and that the nobles, laying aside their natural arrogance, had learned so to sympathize with the people as to have become supportable by all, even of the humblest rank. this dissimulation remained undetected, and its causes concealed, while the tarquins lived; for the nobles dreading the tarquins, and fearing that the people, if they used them ill, might take part against them, treated them with kindness. but no sooner were the tarquins got rid of, and the nobles thus relieved of their fears, when they began to spit forth against the commons all the venom which before they had kept in their breasts, offending and insulting them in every way they could; confirming what i have observed already, that men never behave well unless compelled, and that whenever they are free to act as they please, and are under no restraint everything falls at once into confusion and disorder. wherefore it has been said that as poverty and hunger are needed to make men industrious, so laws are needed to make them good. when we do well without laws, laws are not needed; but when good customs are absent, laws are at once required. on the extinction of the tarquins, therefore, the dread of whom had kept the nobles in check, some new safeguard had to be contrived, which should effect the same result as had been effected by the tarquins while they lived. accordingly, after much uproar and confusion, and much danger of violence ensuing between the commons and the nobles, to insure the safety of the former, tribunes were created, and were invested with such station and authority as always afterwards enabled them to stand between the people and the senate, and to resist the insolence of the nobles. chapter iv.--that the dissensions between the senate and commons of rome, made rome free and powerful. touching those tumults which prevailed in rome from the extinction of the tarquins to the creation of the tribunes the discussion of which i have no wish to avoid, and as to certain other matters of a like nature, i desire to say something in opposition to the opinion of many who assert that rome was a turbulent city, and had fallen into utter disorder, that had not her good fortune and military prowess made amends for other defects, she would have been inferior to every other republic. i cannot indeed deny that the good fortune and the armies of rome were the causes of her empire; yet it certainly seems to me that those holding this opinion fail to perceive, that in a state where there are good soldiers there must be good order, and, generally speaking, good fortune. and looking to the other circumstances of this city, i affirm that those who condemn these dissensions between the nobles and the commons, condemn what was the prime cause of rome becoming free; and give more heed to the tumult and uproar wherewith these dissensions were attended, than to the good results which followed from them; not reflecting that while in every republic there are two conflicting factions, that of the people and that of the nobles, it is in this conflict that all laws favourable to freedom have their origin, as may readily be seen to have been the case in rome. for from the time of the tarquins to that of the gracchi, a period of over three hundred years, the tumults in rome seldom gave occasion to punishment by exile, and very seldom to bloodshed. so that we cannot truly declare those tumults to have been disastrous, or that republic to have been disorderly, which during all that time, on account of her internal broils, banished no more than eight or ten of her citizens, put very few to death, and rarely inflicted money penalties. nor can we reasonably pronounce that city ill-governed wherein we find so many instances of virtue; for virtuous actions have their origin in right training, right training in wise laws, and wise laws in these very tumults which many would thoughtlessly condemn. for he who looks well to the results of these tumults will find that they did not lead to banishments, nor to violence hurtful to the common good, but to laws and ordinances beneficial to the public liberty. and should any object that the behaviour of the romans was extravagant and outrageous; that for the assembled people to be heard shouting against the senate, the senate against the people; for the whole commons to be seen rushing wildly through the streets, closing their shops, and quitting the town, were things which might well affright him even who only reads of them; it may be answered, that the inhabitants of all cities, more especially of cities which seek to make use of the people in matters of importance, have their own ways of giving expression to their wishes; among which the city of rome had the custom, that when its people sought to have a law passed they followed one or another of those courses mentioned above, or else refused to be enrolled as soldiers when, to pacify them, something of their demands had to be conceded. but the demands of a free people are hurtful to freedom, since they originate either in being oppressed, or in the fear that they are about to be so. when this fear is groundless, it finds its remedy in public meetings, wherein some worthy person may come forward and show the people by argument that they are deceiving themselves. for though they be ignorant, the people are not therefore, as cicero says, incapable of being taught the truth, but are readily convinced when it is told them by one in whose honesty they can trust. we should, therefore, be careful how we censure the government of rome, and should reflect that all the great results effected by that republic, could not have come about without good cause. and if the popular tumults led the creation of the tribunes, they merit all praise; since these magistrates not only gave its due influence to the popular voice in the government, but also acted as the guardians of roman freedom, as shall be clearly shown in the following chapter. chapter v.--_whether the guardianship of public freedom is safer in the hands of the commons or of the nobles; and whether those who seek to acquire power or they who seek to maintain it are the greater cause of commotions._ of the provisions made by wise founders of republics, one of the most necessary is for the creation of a guardianship of liberty; for according as this is placed in good or bad hands, the freedom of the state will be more or less lasting. and because in every republic we find the two parties of nobles and commons, the question arises, to which of these two this guardianship can most safely be entrusted. among the lacedæmonians of old, as now with the venetians, it was placed in the hands of the nobles, but with the romans it was vested in the commons. we have, therefore, to determine which of these states made the wiser choice. if we look to reasons, something is to be said on both sides of the question; though were we to look to results, we should have to pronounce in favour of the nobles, inasmuch as the liberty of sparta and venice has had a longer life than that of rome. as touching reasons, it may be pleaded for the roman method, that they are most fit to have charge of a thing, who least desire to pervert it to their own ends. and, doubtless, if we examine the aims which the nobles and the commons respectively set before them, we shall find in the former a great desire to dominate, in the latter merely a desire not to be dominated over, and hence a greater attachment to freedom, since they have less to gain than the others by destroying it. wherefore, when the commons are put forward as the defenders of liberty, they may be expected to take better care of it, and, as they have no desire to tamper with it themselves, to be less apt to suffer others to do so. on the other hand, he who defends the method followed by the spartans and venetians, may urge, that by confiding this guardianship to the nobles, two desirable ends are served: first, that from being allowed to retain in their own hands a weapon which makes them the stronger party in the state, the ambition of this class is more fully satisfied; and, second, that an authority is withdrawn from the unstable multitude which as used by them is likely to lead to endless disputes and tumults, and to drive the nobles into dangerous and desperate courses. in instance whereof might be cited the case of rome itself, wherein the tribunes of the people being vested with this authority, not content to have one consul a plebeian, insisted on having both; and afterwards laid claim to the censorship, the prætorship and all the other magistracies in the city. nor was this enough for them, but, carried away by the same factious spirit, they began after a time to pay court to such men as they thought able to attack the nobility, and so gave occasion to the rise of marius and the overthrow of rome. wherefore one who weighs both sides of the question well, might hesitate which party he should choose as the guardian of public liberty, being uncertain which class is more mischievous in a commonwealth, that which would acquire what it has not, or that which would keep the authority which it has already. but, on the whole, on a careful balance of arguments we may sum up thus:--either we have to deal with a republic eager like rome to extend its power, or with one content merely to maintain itself; in the former case it is necessary to do in all things as rome did; in the latter, for the reasons and in the manner to be shown in the following chapter, we may imitate venice and sparta. but reverting to the question which class of citizens is more mischievous in a republic, those who seek to acquire or those who fear to lose what they have acquired already, i note that when marcus menenius and marcus fulvius, both of them men of plebeian birth, were made the one dictator, the other master of the knights, that they might inquire into certain plots against rome contrived in capua, they had at the same time authority given them by the people to investigate whether, in rome itself, irregular and corrupt practices had been used to obtain the consulship and other honours of the city. the nobles suspecting that the powers thus conferred were to be turned against them, everywhere gave out that if honours had been sought by any by irregular and unworthy means, it was not by them, but by the plebeians, who, with neither birth nor merit to recommend them, had need to resort to corruption. and more particularly they accused the dictator himself. and so telling was the effect of these charges, that menenius, after haranguing the people and complaining to them of the calumnies circulated against him, laid down his dictatorship, and submitted himself to whatever judgment might be passed upon him. when his cause came to be tried he was acquitted; but at the hearing it was much debated, whether he who would retain power or he who would acquire it, is the more dangerous citizen; the desires of both being likely to lead to the greatest disorders. nevertheless, i believe that, as a rule, disorders are more commonly occasioned by those seeking to preserve power, because in them the fear of loss breeds the same passions as are felt by those seeking to acquire; since men never think they hold what they have securely, unless when they are gaining something new from others. it is also to be said that their position enables them to operate changes with less effort and greater efficacy. further, it may be added, that their corrupt and insolent behaviour inflames the minds of those who have nothing, with the desire to have; either for the sake of punishing their adversaries by despoiling them, or to obtain for themselves a share of those riches and honours which they see the others abuse. chapter vi.--_whether it was possible in rome to contrive such a government as would have composed the differences between the commons and the senate._ i have spoken above of the effects produced in rome by the controversies between the commons and the senate. now, as these lasted down to the time of the gracchi, when they brought about the overthrow of freedom, some may think it matter for regret that rome should not have achieved the great things she did, without being torn by such disputes. wherefore, it seems to me worth while to consider whether the government of rome could ever have been constituted in such a way as to prevent like controversies. in making this inquiry we must first look to those republics which have enjoyed freedom for a great while, undisturbed by any violent contentions or tumults, and see what their government was, and whether it would have been possible to introduce it into rome. of such republics we have an example in ancient times in sparta, in modern times in venice, of both which states i have already made mention. sparta created for herself a government consisting of a king and a limited senate. venice has made no distinction in the titles of her rulers, all qualified to take part in her government being classed under the one designation of "gentlemen," an arrangement due rather to chance than to the foresight of those who gave this state its constitution. for many persons, from causes already noticed, seeking shelter on these rocks on which venice now stands, after they had so multiplied that if they were to continue to live together it became necessary for them to frame laws, established a form of government; and assembling often in their councils to consult for the interests of their city, when it seemed to them that their numbers were sufficient for political existence, they closed the entrance to civil rights against all who came afterwards to live there, not allowing them to take any part in the management of affairs. and when in course of time there came to be many citizens excluded from the government, to add to the importance of the governing body, they named these "gentlemen" (_gentiluomini_), the others "plebeians" (_popolani_). and this distinction could grow up and maintain itself without causing disturbance; for as at the time of its origin, whosoever then lived in venice was made one of the governing body, none had reason to complain; while those who came to live there afterwards, finding the government in a completed form, had neither ground nor opportunity to object. no ground, because nothing was taken from them; and no opportunity, because those in authority kept them under control, and never employed them in affairs in which they could acquire importance. besides which, they who came later to dwell in venice were not so numerous as to destroy all proportion between the governors and the governed; the number of the "gentlemen" being as great as, or greater than that of the "plebeians." for these reasons, therefore, it was possible for venice to make her constitution what it is, and to maintain it without divisions. sparta, again, being governed, as i have said, by a king and a limited senate, was able to maintain herself for the long period she did, because, from the country being thinly inhabited and further influx of population forbidden, and from the laws of lycurgus (the observance whereof removed all ground of disturbance) being held in high esteem, the citizens were able to continue long in unity. for lycurgus having by his laws established in sparta great equality as to property, but less equality as to rank, there prevailed there an equal poverty; and the commons were less ambitious, because the offices of the state, which were held to their exclusion, were confined to a few; and because the nobles never by harsh treatment aroused in them any desire to usurp these offices. and this was due to the spartan kings, who, being appointed to that dignity for life, and placed in the midst of this nobility, had no stronger support to their authority than in defending the people against injustice. whence it resulted that as the people neither feared nor coveted the power which they did not possess, the conflicts which might have arisen between them and the nobles were escaped, together with the causes which would have led to them; and in this way they were able to live long united. but of this unity in sparta there were two chief causes: one, the fewness of its inhabitants, which allowed of their being governed by a few; the other, that by denying foreigners admission into their country, the people had less occasion to become corrupted, and never so increased in numbers as to prove troublesome to their few rulers. weighing all which circumstances, we see that to have kept rome in the same tranquility wherein these republics were kept, one of two courses must have been followed by her legislators; for either, like the venetians, they must have refrained from employing the commons in war, or else, like the spartans, they must have closed their country to foreigners. whereas, in both particulars, they did the opposite, arming the commons and increasing their number, and thus affording endless occasions for disorder. and had the roman commonwealth grown to be more tranquil, this inconvenience would have resulted, that it must at the same time have grown weaker, since the road would have been closed to that greatness to which it came, for in removing the causes of her tumults, rome must have interfered with the causes of her growth. and he who looks carefully into the matter will find, that in all human affairs, we cannot rid ourselves of one inconvenience without running into another. so that if you would have your people numerous and warlike, to the end that with their aid you may establish a great empire, you will have them of such a sort as you cannot afterwards control at your pleasure; while should you keep them few and unwarlike, to the end that you may govern them easily, you will be unable, should you extend your dominions, to preserve them, and will become so contemptible as to be the prey of any who attack you. for which reason in all our deliberations we ought to consider where we are likely to encounter least inconvenience, and accept that as the course to be preferred, since we shall never find any line of action entirely free from disadvantage. rome might, therefore, following the example of sparta, have created a king for life and a senate of limited numbers, but desiring to become a great empire, she could not, like sparta, have restricted the number of her citizens. so that to have created a king for life and a limited senate had been of little service to her. were any one, therefore, about to found a wholly new republic, he would have to consider whether he desired it to increase as rome did in territory and dominion, or to continue within narrow limits. in the former case he would have to shape its constitution as nearly as possible on the pattern of the roman, leaving room for dissensions and popular tumults, for without a great and warlike population no republic can ever increase, or increasing maintain itself. in the second case he might give his republic a constitution like that of venice or sparta; but since extension is the ruin of such republics, the legislator would have to provide in every possible way against the state which he had founded making any additions to its territories. for these, when superimposed upon a feeble republic, are sure to be fatal to it: as we see to have been the case with sparta and venice, the former of which, after subjugating nearly all greece, on sustaining a trifling reverse, betrayed the insufficiency of her foundations, for when, after the revolt of thebes under pelopidas, other cities also rebelled, the spartan kingdom was utterly overthrown. venice in like manner, after gaining possession of a great portion of italy (most of it not by her arms but by her wealth and subtlety), when her strength was put to the proof, lost all in one pitched battle. i can well believe, then, that to found a republic which shall long endure, the best plan may be to give it internal institutions like those of sparta or venice; placing it in a naturally strong situation, and so fortifying it that none can expect to get the better of it easily, yet, at the same time, not making it so great as to be formidable to its neighbours; since by taking these precautions, it might long enjoy its independence. for there are two causes which lead to wars being made against a republic; one, your desire to be its master, the other the fear lest it should master you; both of which dangers the precaution indicated will go far to remove. for if, as we are to assume, this republic be well prepared for defence, and consequently difficult of attack, it will seldom or never happen that any one will form the design to attack it, and while it keeps within its own boundaries, and is seen from experience not to be influenced by ambition, no one will be led, out of fear for himself, to make war upon it, more particularly when its laws and constitution forbid its extension. and were it possible to maintain things in this equilibrium, i veritably believe that herein would be found the true form of political life, and the true tranquility of a republic. but all human affairs being in movement, and incapable of remaining as they are, they must either rise or fall; and to many conclusions to which we are not led by reason, we are brought by necessity. so that when we have given institutions to a state on the footing that it is to maintain itself without enlargement, should necessity require its enlargement, its foundations will be cut from below it, and its downfall quickly ensue. on the other hand, were a republic so favoured by heaven as to lie under no necessity of making war, the result of this ease would be to make it effeminate and divided which two evils together, and each by itself, would insure its ruin. and since it is impossible, as i believe, to bring about an equilibrium, or to adhere strictly to the mean path, we must, in arranging our republic, consider what is the more honourable course for it to take, and so contrive that even if necessity compel its enlargement, it may be able to keep what it gains. but returning to the point first raised, i believe it necessary for us to follow the method of the romans and not that of the other republics, for i know of no middle way. we must, consequently, put up with those dissensions which arise between commons and senate, looking on them as evils which cannot be escaped if we would arrive at the greatness of rome. in connection with the arguments here used to prove that the authority of the tribunes was essential in rome to the guardianship of freedom, we may naturally go on to show what advantages result to a republic from the power of impeachment; which, together with others, was conferred upon the tribunes; a subject to be noticed in the following chapter. chapter vii.--_that to preserve liberty in a state there must exist the right to accuse._ to those set forward in a commonwealth as guardians of public freedom, no more useful or necessary authority can be given than the power to accuse, either before the people, or before some council or tribunal, those citizens who in any way have offended against the liberty of their country. a law of this kind has two effects most beneficial to a state: _first,_ that the citizens from fear of being accused, do not engage in attempts hurtful to the state, or doing so, are put down at once and without respect of persons: and _next,_ that a vent is given for the escape of all those evil humours which, from whatever cause, gather in cities against particular citizens; for unless an outlet be duly provided for these by the laws, they flow into irregular channels and overwhelm the state. there is nothing, therefore, which contributes so much to the stability and permanence of a state, as to take care that the fermentation of these disturbing humours be supplied by operation of law with a recognized outlet. this might be shown by many examples, but by none so clearly as by that of coriolanus related by livius, where he tells us, that at a time when the roman nobles were angry with the plebeians (thinking that the appointment of tribunes for their protection had made them too powerful), it happened that rome was visited by a grievous famine, to meet which the senate sent to sicily for corn. but coriolanus, hating the commons, sought to persuade the senate that now was the time to punish them, and to deprive them of the authority which they had usurped to the prejudice of the nobles, by withholding the distribution of corn, and so suffering them to perish of hunger. which advice of his coming to the ears of the people, kindled them to such fury against him, that they would have slain him as he left the senate house, had not the tribunes cited him to appear and answer before them to a formal charge. in respect of this incident i repeat what i have just now said, how useful and necessary it is for republics to provide by their laws a channel by which the displeasure of the multitude against a single citizen may find a vent. for when none such is regularly provided, recourse will be had to irregular channels, and these will assuredly lead to much worse results. for when a citizen is borne down by the operation or the ordinary laws, even though he be wronged, little or no disturbance is occasioned to the state: the injury he suffers not being wrought by private violence, nor by foreign force, which are the causes of the overthrow of free institutions, but by public authority and in accordance with public ordinances, which, having definite limits set them, are not likely to pass beyond these so as to endanger the commonwealth. for proof of which i am content to rest on this old example of coriolanus, since all may see what a disaster it would have been for rome had he been violently put to death by the people. for, as between citizen and citizen, a wrong would have been done affording ground for fear, fear would have sought defence, defence have led to faction, faction to divisions in the state, and these to its ruin. but the matter being taken up by those whose office it was to deal with it, all the evils which must have followed had it been left in private hands were escaped. in florence, on the other hand, and in our own days, we have seen what violent commotions follow when the people cannot show their displeasure against particular citizens in a form recognized by the laws, in the instance of francesco valori, at one time looked upon as the foremost citizen of our republic. but many thinking him ambitious, and likely from his high spirit and daring to overstep the limits of civil freedom, and there being no way to oppose him save by setting up an adverse faction, the result was, that, apprehending irregular attacks, he sought to gain partisans for his support; while his opponents, on their side, having no course open to them of which the laws approved, resorted to courses of which the laws did not approve, and, at last, to open violence. and as his influence had to be attacked by unlawful methods, these were attended by injury not to him only, but to many other noble citizens; whereas, could he have been met by constitutional restraints, his power might have been broken without injury to any save himself. i might also cite from our florentine history the fall of piero soderini, which had no other cause than there not being in our republic any law under which powerful and ambitious citizens can be impeached. for to form a tribunal by which a powerful citizen is to be tried, eight judges only are not enough; the judges must be numerous, because a few will always do the will of a few. but had there been proper methods for obtaining redress, either the people would have impeached piero if he was guilty, and thus have given vent to their displeasure without calling in the spanish army; or if he was innocent, would not have ventured, through fear of being accused themselves, to have taken proceedings against him. so that in either case the bitter spirit which was the cause of all the disorder would have had an end. wherefore, when we find one of the parties in a state calling in a foreign power, we may safely conclude that it is because the defective laws of that state provide no escape for those malignant humours which are natural to men; which can best be done by arranging for an impeachment before a sufficient number of judges, and by giving countenance to this procedure. this was so well contrived in rome that in spite of the perpetual struggle maintained between the commons and the senate, neither the senate nor the commons, nor any single citizen, ever sought redress at the hands of a foreign power; for having a remedy at home, there was no need to seek one abroad. although the examples above cited be proof sufficient of what i affirm, i desire to adduce one other, recorded by titus livius in his history, where he relates that a sister of aruns having been violated by a lucumo of clusium, the chief of the etruscan towns, aruns being unable, from the interest of her ravisher, to avenge her, betook himself to the gauls who ruled in the province we now name lombardy, and besought them to come with an armed force to clusium; showing them how with advantage to themselves they might avenge his wrongs. now, had aruns seen that he could have had redress through the laws of his country, he never would have resorted to these barbarians for help. but as the right to accuse is beneficial in a republic, so calumny, on the other hand, is useless and hurtful, as in the following chapter i shall proceed to show. chapter viii.--_that calumny is as hurtful in a commonwealth as the power to accuse is useful._ such were the services rendered to rome by furius camillus in rescuing her from the oppression of the gauls, that no roman, however high his degree or station, held it derogatory to yield place to him, save only manlius capitolinus, who could not brook such glory and distinction being given to another. for he thought that in saving the capitol, he had himself done as much as camillus to preserve rome, and that in respect of his other warlike achievements he was no whit behind him. so that, bursting with jealousy, and unable to remain at rest by reason of the other's renown, and seeing no way to sow discord among the fathers, he set himself to spread abroad sinister reports among the commons; throwing out, among other charges, that the treasure collected to be given to the gauls, but which, afterwards, was withheld, had been embezzled by certain citizens, and if recovered might be turned to public uses in relieving the people from taxes or from private debts. these assertions so prevailed with the commons that they began to hold meetings and to raise what tumults they liked throughout the city. but this displeasing the senate, and the matter appearing to them grave and dangerous, they appointed a dictator to inquire into it, and to restrain the attacks of manlius. the dictator, forthwith, caused manlius to be cited before him; and these two were thus brought face to face in the presence of the whole city, the dictator surrounded by the nobles, and manlius by the commons. the latter, being desired to say with whom the treasure of which he had spoken was to be found, since the senate were as anxious to know this as the commons, made no direct reply, but answered evasively that it was needless to tell them what they already knew. whereupon the dictator ordered him to prison. in this passage we are taught how hateful a thing is calumny in all free states, as, indeed, in every society, and how we must neglect no means which may serve to check it. and there can be no more effectual means for checking calumny than by affording ample facilities for impeachment, which is as useful in a commonwealth as the other is pernicious. and between them there is this difference, that calumny needs neither witness, nor circumstantial proof to establish it, so that any man may be calumniated by any other; but not impeached; since impeachment demands that there be substantive charges made, and trustworthy evidence to support them. again, it is before the magistrates, the people, or the courts of justice that men are impeached; but in the streets and market places that they are calumniated. calumny, therefore, is most rife in that state wherein impeachment is least practised, and the laws least favour it. for which reasons the legislator should so shape the laws of his state that it shall be possible therein to impeach any of its citizens without fear or favour; and, after duly providing for this, should visit calumniators with the sharpest punishments. those punished will have no cause to complain, since it was in their power to have impeached openly where they have secretly calumniated. where this is not seen to, grave disorders will always ensue. for calumnies sting without disabling; and those who are stung being more moved by hatred of their detractors than by fear of the things they say against them, seek revenge. this matter, as we have said, was well arranged for in rome, but has always been badly regulated in our city of florence. and as the roman ordinances with regard to it were productive of much good, so the want of them in florence has bred much mischief. for any one reading the history of our city may perceive, how many calumnies have at all times been aimed against those of its citizens who have taken a leading part in its affairs. thus, of one it would be said that he had plundered the public treasury, of another, that he had failed in some enterprise because he had been bribed; of a third, that this or the other disaster had originated in his ambition. hence hatred sprung up on every side, and hatred growing to division, these led to factions, and these again to ruin. but had there existed in florence some procedure whereby citizens might have been impeached, and calumniators punished, numberless disorders which have taken there would have been prevented. for citizens who were impeached, whether condemned or acquitted, would have had no power to injure the state; and they would have been impeached far seldomer than they have been calumniated; for calumny, as i have said already, is an easier matter than impeachment. some, indeed, have made use of calumny as a means for raising themselves to power, and have found their advantage in traducing eminent citizens who withstood their designs; for by taking the part of the people, and confirming them in their ill-opinion of these great men, they made them their friends. of this, though i could give many instances, i shall content myself with one. at the siege of lucca the florentine army was commanded by messer giovanni guicciardini, as its commissary, through whose bad generalship or ill-fortune the town was not taken. but whatever the cause of this failure, messer giovanni had the blame; and the rumour ran that he had been bribed by the people of lucca. which calumny being fostered by his enemies, brought messer giovanni to very verge of despair; and though to clear himself he would willingly have given himself up to the captain of justice he found he could not, there being no provision in the laws of the republic which allowed of his doing so. hence arose the bitterest hostility between the friends of messer giovanni, who were mostly of the old nobility (_grandi_), and those who sought to reform the government of florence; and from this and the like causes, the affair grew to such dimensions as to bring about the downfall of our republic. manlius capitolinus, then, was a calumniator, not an accuser; and in their treatment of him the romans showed how calumniators should be dealt with; by which i mean, that they should be forced to become accusers; and if their accusation be proved true, should be rewarded, or at least not punished, but if proved false should be punished as manlius was. chapter ix.--_that to give new institutions to a commonwealth, or to reconstruct old institutions on an entirely new basis, must be the work of one man_. it may perhaps be thought that i should not have got so far into the history of rome, without some mention of those who gave that city its institutions, and saying something of these institutions themselves, so far as they relate to religion and war. as i have no wish to keep those who would know my views on these matters in suspense, i say at once, that to many it might seem of evil omen that the founder of a civil government like romulus, should first have slain his brother, and afterwards have consented to the death of titus tatius the sabine, whom he had chosen to be his colleague in the kingship; since his countrymen, if moved by ambition and lust of power to inflict like injuries on any who opposed their designs, might plead the example of their prince. this view would be a reasonable one were we to disregard the object which led romulus to put those men to death. but we must take it as a rule to which there are very few if any exceptions, that no commonwealth or kingdom ever has salutary institutions given it from the first or has its institutions recast in an entirely new mould, unless by a single person. on the contrary, it must be from one man that it receives its institutions at first, and upon one man that all similar reconstruction must depend. for this reason the wise founder of a commonwealth who seeks to benefit not himself only, or the line of his descendants, but his state and country, must endeavour to acquire an absolute and undivided authority. and none who is wise will ever blame any action, however extraordinary and irregular, which serves to lay the foundation of a kingdom or to establish a republic. for although the act condemn the doer, the end may justify him; and when, as in the case of romulus, the end is good, it will always excuse the means; since it is he who does violence with intent to injure, not he who does it with the design to secure tranquility, who merits blame. such a person ought however to be so prudent and moderate as to avoid transmitting the absolute authority he acquires, as an inheritance to another; for as men are, by nature, more prone to evil than to good, a successor may turn to ambitious ends the power which his predecessor has used to promote worthy ends. moreover, though it be one man that must give a state its institutions, once given they are not so likely to last long resting for support on the shoulders of one man only, as when entrusted to the care of many, and when it is the business of many to maintain them. for though the multitude be unfit to set a state in order, since they cannot, by reason of the divisions which prevail among them, agree wherein the true well-being of the state lies, yet when they have once been taught the truth, they never will consent to abandon it. and that romulus, though he put his brother to death, is yet of those who are to be pardoned, since what he did was done for the common good and not from personal ambition, is shown by his at once creating a senate, with whom he took counsel, and in accordance with whose voice he determined. and whosoever shall well examine the authority which romulus reserved to himself, will find that he reserved nothing beyond the command of the army when war was resolved on, and the right to assemble the senate. this is seen later, on rome becoming free by the expulsion of the tarquins, when the romans altered none of their ancient institutions save in appointing two consuls for a year instead of a king for life; for this proves that all the original institutions of that city were more in conformity with a free and constitutional government, than with an absolute and despotic one. in support of what has been said above, i might cite innumerable instances, as of moses, lycurgus, solon, and other founders of kingdoms and commonwealths, who, from the full powers given them, were enabled to shape their laws to the public advantage; but passing over these examples, as of common notoriety, i take one, not indeed so famous, but which merits the attention of all who desire to frame wise laws. agis, king of sparta, desiring to bring back his countrymen to those limits within which the laws of lycurgus had held them, because he thought that, from having somewhat deviated from them, his city had lost much of its ancient virtue and, consequently much of its strength and power, was, at the very outset of his attempts, slain by the spartan ephori, as one who sought to make himself a tyrant. but cleomenes coming after him in the kingdom, and, on reading the notes and writings which he found of agis wherein his designs and intentions were explained, being stirred by the same desire, perceived that he could not confer this benefit on his country unless he obtained sole power. for he saw that the ambition of others made it impossible for him to do what was useful for many against the will of a few. wherefore, finding fit occasion, he caused the ephori and all others likely to throw obstacles in his way, to be put to death; after which, he completely renewed the laws of lycurgus. and the result of his measures would have been to give fresh life to sparta, and to gain for himself a renown not inferior to that of lycurgus, had it not been for the power of the macedonians and the weakness of the other greek states. for while engaged with these reforms, he was attacked by the macedonians, and being by himself no match for them, and having none to whom he could turn for help, he was overpowered; and his plans, though wise and praiseworthy, were never brought to perfection. all which circumstances considered, i conclude that he who gives new institutions to a state must stand alone; and that for the deaths of remus and tatius, romulus is to be excused rather than blamed. chapter x.--_that in proportion as the founder of a kingdom or commonwealth merits praise, he who founds a tyranny deserves blame._ of all who are praised they are praised the most, who are the authors and founders of religions. after whom come the founders of kingdoms and commonwealths. next to these, they have the greatest name who as commanders of armies have added to their own dominions or those of their country. after these, again, are ranked men of letters, who being of various shades of merit are celebrated each in his degree. to all others, whose number is infinite, is ascribed that measure of praise to which his profession or occupation entitles him. and, conversely, all who contribute to the overthrow of religion, or to the ruin of kingdoms and commonwealths, all who are foes to letters and to the arts which confer honour and benefit on the human race (among whom i reckon the impious, the cruel, the ignorant, the indolent, the base and the worthless), are held in infamy and detestation. no one, whether he be wise or foolish, bad or good, if asked to choose between these two kinds of men, will ever be found to withhold praise from what deserves praise, or blame from what is to be blamed. and yet almost all, deceived by a false good and a false glory, allow themselves either ignorantly or wilfully to follow in the footsteps such as deserve blame rather than praise; and, have it in their power to establish, to their lasting renown, a commonwealth or kingdom, turn aside to create a tyranny without a thought how much they thereby lose in name, fame, security, tranquility, and peace of mind; and in name how much infamy, scorn, danger, and disquiet they are? but were they to read history, and turn to profit the lessons of the past, it seems impossible that those living in a republic as private citizens, should not prefer their native city, to play the part of scipio rather of cæsar; or that those who by good fortune or merit have risen to be rulers, should not seek rather to resemble agesilaus, timoleon, and dion, than to nabis, phalaris and dionysius; since they would see how the latter are loaded with infamy, while the former have been extolled beyond bounds. they would see, too, how timoleon and others like him, had as great authority in their country as dionysius or phalaris in theirs, while enjoying far greater security. nor let any one finding cæsar celebrated by a crowd of writers, be misled by his glory; for those who praise him have been corrupted by good fortune, and overawed by the greatness of that empire which, being governed in his name, would not suffer any to speak their minds openly concerning him. but let him who desires to know how historians would have written of cæsar had they been free to declare their thoughts mark what they say of catiline, than whom cæsar is more hateful, in proportion as he who does is more to be condemned than he who only desires to do evil. let him see also what praises they lavish upon brutus, because being unable, out of respect for his power, to reproach cæsar, they magnify his enemy. and if he who has become prince in any state will but reflect, how, after rome was made an empire, far greater praise was earned those emperors who lived within the laws, and worthily, than by those who lived in the contrary way, he will see that titus, nerva, trajan, hadrian, antoninus and marcus had no need of prætorian cohorts, or of countless legions to guard them, but were defended by their own good lives, the good-will of their subjects, and the attachment of the senate. in like manner he will perceive in the case of caligula, nero, vitellius, and ever so many more of those evil emperors, that all the armies of the east and of the west were of no avail to protect them from the enemies whom their bad and depraved lives raised up against them. and were the history of these emperors rightly studied, it would be a sufficient lesson to any prince how to distinguish the paths which lead to honour and safety from those which end in shame and insecurity. for of the twenty-six emperors from cæsar to maximinus, sixteen came to a violent, ten only to a natural death; and though one or two of those who died by violence may have been good princes, as galba or pertinax, they met their fate in consequence of that corruption which their predecessors had left behind in the army. and if among those who died a natural death, there be found some bad emperors, like severus, it is to be ascribed to their signal good fortune and to their great abilities, advantages seldom found united in the same man. from the study this history we may also learn how a good government is to be established; for while all the emperors who succeeded to the throne by birth, except titus, were bad, all were good who succeeded by adoption; as in the case of the five from nerva to marcus. but so soon as the empire fell once more to the heirs by birth, its ruin recommenced. let a prince therefore look to that period which extends from nerva to marcus, and contrast it with that which went before and that which came after, and then let him say in which of them he would wish to have been born or to have reigned. for during these times in which good men governed, he will see the prince secure in the midst of happy subjects, and the whole world filled with peace and justice. he will find the senate maintaining its authority, the magistrates enjoying their honours, rich citizens their wealth, rank and merit held in respect, ease and content everywhere prevailing, rancour, licence corruption and ambition everywhere quenched, and that golden age restored in which every one might hold and support what opinions he pleased. he will see, in short, the world triumphing, the sovereign honoured and revered, the people animated with love, and rejoicing in their security. but should he turn to examine the times of the other emperors, he will find them wasted by battles, torn by seditions, cruel alike in war and peace; many princes perishing by the sword; many wars foreign and domestic; italy overwhelmed with unheard-of disasters; her towns destroyed and plundered; rome burned; the capitol razed to the ground by roman citizens; the ancient temples desolated; the ceremonies of religion corrupted; the cities rank with adultery; the seas covered with exiles and the islands polluted with blood. he will see outrage follow outrage; rank, riches, honours, and, above all, virtue imputed as mortal crimes; informers rewarded; slaves bribed to betray their masters, freedmen their patrons, and those who were without enemies brought to destruction by their friends; and then he will know the true nature of the debt which rome, italy, and the world owe to cæsar; and if he possess a spark of human feeling, will turn from the example of those evil times, and kindle with a consuming passion to imitate those which were good. and in truth the prince who seeks for worldly glory should desire to be the ruler of a corrupt city; not that, like cæsar, he may destroy it, but that, like romulus, he may restore it; since man cannot hope for, nor heaven offer any better opportunity of fame. were it indeed necessary in giving a constitution to a state to forfeit its sovereignty, the prince who, to retain his station, should withhold a constitution, might plead excuse; but for him who in giving a constitution can still retain his sovereignty, no excuse is to be made. let those therefore to whom heaven has afforded this opportunity, remember that two courses lie open to them; one which will render them secure while they live and glorious when they die; another which exposes them to continual difficulties in life, and condemns them to eternal infamy after death. chapter xi.--_of the religion of the romans._ though rome had romulus for her first founder, and as a daughter owed him her being and nurture, nevertheless, when the institutions of romulus were seen by heaven to be insufficient for so great a state, the roman senate were moved to choose numa pompilius as his successor, that he might look to all matters which romulus had neglected. he finding the people fierce and turbulent, and desiring with the help of the peaceful arts to bring them to order and obedience, called in the aid of religion as essential to the maintenance of civil society, and gave it such a form, that for many ages god was nowhere so much feared as in that republic. the effect of this was to render easy any enterprise in which the senate or great men of rome thought fit to engage. and whosoever pays heed to an infinity of actions performed, sometimes by the roman people collectively, often by single citizens, will see, that esteeming the power of god beyond that of man, they dreaded far more to violate their oath than to transgress the laws; as is clearly shown by the examples of scipio and of manlius torquatus. for after the defeat of the romans by hannibal at cannæ, many citizens meeting together, resolved, in their terror and dismay, to abandon italy and seek refuge in sicily. but scipio, getting word of this, went among them, and menacing them with his naked sword, made them swear never to abandon their country. again, when lucius manlius was accused by the tribune marcus pomponius, before the day fixed for trial, titus manlius, afterwards named torquatus, son to lucius, went to seek this marcus, and threatening him with death if he did not withdraw the charge against his father, compelled him to swear compliance; and he, through fear, having sworn, kept his oath. in the first of these two instances, therefore, citizens whom love of their country and its laws could not have retained in italy, were kept there by the oath forced upon them; and in the second, the tribune marcus, to keep his oath, laid aside the hatred he bore the father, and overlooked the injury done him by the son, and his own dishonour. and this from no other cause than the religion which numa had impressed upon this city. and it will be plain to any one who carefully studies roman history, how much religion helped in disciplining the army, in uniting the people, in keeping good men good, and putting bad men to shame; so that had it to be decided to which prince, romulus or numa, rome owed the greater debt, i think the balance must turn in favour of numa; for when religion is once established you may readily bring in arms; but where you have arms without religion it is not easy afterwards to bring in religion. we see, too, that while romulus in order to create a senate, and to establish his other ordinances civil and military, needed no support from divine authority, this was very necessary to numa, who feigned to have intercourse with a nymph by whose advice he was guided in counselling the people. and this, because desiring to introduce in rome new and untried institutions, he feared that his own authority might not effect his end. nor, indeed, has any attempt ever been made to introduce unusual laws among a people, without resorting to divine authority, since without such sanction they never would have been accepted. for the wise recognize many things to be good which do not bear such reasons on the face of them as command their acceptance by others; wherefore, wise men who would obviate these difficulties, have recourse to divine aid. thus did lycurgus, thus solon, and thus have done many besides who have had the same end in view. the romans, accordingly, admiring the prudence and virtues of numa, assented to all the measures which he recommended. this, however, is to be said, that the circumstance of these times being deeply tinctured with religious feeling, and of the men with whom he had to deal being rude and ignorant, gave numa better facility to carry out his plans, as enabling him to mould his subjects readily to any new impression. and, doubtless, he who should seek at the present day to form a new commonwealth, would find the task easier among a race of simple mountaineers, than among the dwellers in cities where society is corrupt; as the sculptor can more easily carve a fair statue from a rough block, than from the block which has been badly shaped out by another. but taking all this into account, i maintain that the religion introduced by numa was one of the chief causes of the prosperity of rome, since it gave rise to good ordinances, which in turn brought with them good fortune, and with good fortune, happy issues to whatsoever was undertaken. and as the observance of the ordinances of religion is the cause of the greatness of a state, so their neglect is the occasion of its decline; since a kingdom without the fear of god must either fall to pieces, or must be maintained by the fear of some prince who supplies that influence not supplied by religion. but since the lives of princes are short, the life of this prince, also, and with it his influence, must soon come to an end; whence it happens that a kingdom which rests wholly on the qualities of its prince, lasts for a brief time only; because these qualities, terminating with his life, are rarely renewed in his successor. for as dante wisely says:-- "seldom through the boughs doth human worth renew itself; for such the will of him who gives it, that to him we may ascribe it."[ ] it follows, therefore, that the safety of a commonwealth or kingdom lies, not in its having a ruler who governs it prudently while he lives, but in having one who so orders things, that when he dies, the state may still maintain itself. and though it be easier to impose new institutions or a new faith on rude and simple men, it is not therefore impossible to persuade their adoption by men who are civilized, and who do not think themselves rude. the people of florence do not esteem themselves rude or ignorant, and yet were persuaded by the friar girolamo savonarola that he spoke with god. whether in this he said truth or no, i take not on me to pronounce, since of so great a man we must speak with reverence; but this i do say, that very many believed him without having witnessed anything extraordinary to warrant their belief; his life, his doctrines, the matter whereof he treated, being sufficient to enlist their faith. let no man, therefore, lose heart from thinking that he cannot do what others have done before him; for, as i said in my preface, men are born, and live, and die, always in accordance with the same rules. [footnote : l'umana probitate: e questo vuole quei che la dà, perchè da lui si chiami. _purg_. vii. - .] chapter xii.--that it is of much moment to make account of religion; and that italy, through the roman church, being wanting therein, has been ruined. princes and commonwealths that would save themselves from growing corrupted, should before all things keep uncorrupted the rites and ceremonies of religion, and always hold them in reverence; since we can have no surer sign of the decay of a province than to see divine worship held therein in contempt. this is easily understood when it is seen on what foundation that religion rests in which a man is born. for every religion has its root in certain fundamental ordinances peculiar to itself. the religion of the gentiles had its beginning in the responses of the oracles and in the prognostics of the augurs and soothsayers. all their other ceremonies and observances depended upon these; because men naturally believed that the god who could forecast their future weal or woe, could also bring them to pass. wherefore the temples, the prayers, the sacrifices, and all the other rites of their worship, had their origin in this, that the oracles of delos, of dodona, and others celebrated in antiquity, held the world admiring and devout. but, afterwards, when these oracles began to shape their answers to suit the interests of powerful men, and their impostures to be seen through by the multitude, men grew incredulous and ready to overturn every sacred institution. for which reason, the rulers of kingdoms and commonwealths should maintain the foundations of the faith which they hold; since thus it will be easy for them to keep their country religious, and, consequently, virtuous and united. to which end they should countenance and further whatsoever tells in favour of religion, even should they think it untrue; and the wiser they are, and the better they are acquainted with natural causes, the more ought they to do so. it is from this course having been followed by the wise, that the miracles celebrated even in false religions, have come to be held in repute; for from whatever source they spring, discreet men will extol them, whose authority afterwards gives them currency everywhere. these miracles were common enough in rome, and among others this was believed, that when the roman soldiers were sacking the city of veii, certain of them entered the temple of juno and spoke to the statue of the goddess, saying, "_wilt thou come with us to rome?_" when to some it seemed that she inclined her head in assent, and to others that they heard her answer, "_yea_." for these men being filled with religious awe (which titus livius shows us by the circumstance that, in entering the temple, they entered devoutly, reverently, and without tumult), persuaded themselves they heard that answer to their question, which, perhaps, they had formed beforehand in their minds. but their faith and belief were wholly approved of and confirmed by camillus and by the other chief men of the city. had religion been maintained among the princes of christendom on the footing on which it was established by its founder, the christian states and republics had been far more united and far more prosperous than they now are; nor can we have surer proof of its decay than in witnessing how those countries which are the nearest neighbours of the roman church, the head of our faith, have less devoutness than any others; so that any one who considers its earliest beginnings and observes how widely different is its present practice, might well believe its ruin or its chastisement to be close at hand. but since some are of opinion that the welfare of italy depends upon the church of rome, i desire to put forward certain arguments which occur to me against that view, and shall adduce two very strong ones, which, to my mind, admit of no answer. the first is, that, through the ill example of the roman court, the country has lost all religious feeling and devoutness, a loss which draws after it infinite mischiefs and disorders; for as the presence of religion implies every excellence, so the contrary is involved in its absence. to the church, therefore, and to the priests, we italians owe this first debt, that through them we have become wicked and irreligious. and a still greater debt we owe them for what is the immediate cause of our ruin, namely, that by the church our country is kept divided. for no country was ever united or prosperous which did not yield obedience to some one prince or commonwealth, as has been the case with france and spain. and the church is the sole cause why italy stands on a different footing, and is subject to no one king or commonwealth. for though she holds here her seat, and exerts her temporal authority, she has never yet gained strength and courage to seize upon the entire country, or make herself supreme; yet never has been so weak that when in fear of losing her temporal dominion, she could not call in some foreign potentate to aid her against any italian state by which she was overmatched. of which we find many instances, both in early times, as when by the intervention of charles the great she drove the lombards, who had made themselves masters of nearly the whole country, out of italy; and also in recent times, as when, with the help of france, she first stripped the venetians of their territories, and then, with the help of the swiss, expelled the french. the church, therefore, never being powerful enough herself to take possession of the entire country, while, at the same time, preventing any one else from doing so, has made it impossible to bring italy under one head; and has been the cause of her always living subject to many princes or rulers, by whom she has been brought to such division and weakness as to have become a prey, not to barbarian kings only, but to any who have thought fit to attack her. for this, i say, we italians have none to thank but the church. and were any man powerful enough to transplant the court of rome, with all the authority it now wields over the rest of italy, into the territories of the swiss (the only people who at this day, both as regards religion and military discipline, live like the ancients,) he would have clear proof of the truth of what i affirm, and would find that the corrupt manners of that court had, in a little while, wrought greater mischief in these territories than any other disaster which could ever befall them. chapter xiii.--_of the use the romans made of religion in giving institutions to their city, in carrying out their enterprises, and in quelling tumults._ here it seems to me not out of place to cite instances of the romans seeking assistance from religion in reforming their institutions and in carrying out their warlike designs. and although many such are related by titus livius, i content myself with mentioning the following only: the romans having appointed tribunes with consular powers, all of them, save one, plebeians, it so chanced that in that very year they were visited by plague and famine, accompanied by many strange portents. taking occasion from this, the nobles, at the next creation of tribunes, gave out that the gods were angry with rome for lowering the majesty of her government, nor could be appeased but by the choice of tribunes being restored to a fair footing. whereupon the people, smitten with religious awe, chose all the tribunes from the nobles. again, at the siege of veii, we find the roman commanders making use of religion to keep the minds of their men well disposed towards that enterprise. for when, in the last year of the siege, the soldiers, disgusted with their protracted service, began to clamour to be led back to rome, on the alban lake suddenly rising to an uncommon height, it was found that the oracles at delphi and elsewhere had foretold that veii should fall that year in which the alban lake overflowed. the hope of near victory thus excited in the minds of the soldiers, led them to put up with the weariness of the war, and to continue in arms; until, on camillus being named dictator, veii was taken after a ten years' siege. in these cases, therefore, we see religion, wisely used, assist in the reduction of this city, and in restoring the tribuneship to the nobles; neither of which ends could well have been effected without it. one other example bearing on the same subject i must not omit. constant disturbances were occasioned in rome by the tribune terentillus, who, for reasons to be noticed in their place, sought to pass a certain law. the nobles, in their efforts to baffle him, had recourse to religion, which they sought to turn to account in two ways. for first they caused the sibylline books to be searched, and a feigned answer returned, that in that year the city ran great risk of losing its freedom through civil discord; which fraud, although exposed by the tribunes, nevertheless aroused such alarm in the minds of the commons that they slackened in their support of their leaders. their other contrivance was as follows: a certain appius herdonius, at the head of a band of slaves and outlaws, to the lumber of four thousand, having seized the capitol by night, an alarm was spread that were the equians and volscians, those perpetual enemies of the roman name, then to attack the city, they might succeed in taking it. and when, in spite of this, the tribunes stubbornly persisted in their efforts to pass the law, declaring the act of herdonius to be a device of the nobles and no real danger. publius rubetius, a citizen of weight and authority, came forth from the senate house, and in words partly friendly and partly menacing, showed them the peril in which the city stood, and that their demands were unseasonable; and spoke to such effect that the commons bound themselves by oath to stand by the consul; in fulfilment of which engagement they aided the consul, publius valerius, to carry the capitol by assault. but valerius being slain in the attack, titus quintius was at once appointed in his place, who, to leave the people no breathing time, nor suffer their thoughts to revert to the terentillian law, ordered them to quit rome and march against the volscians; declaring them bound to follow him by virtue of the oath they had sworn not to desert the consul. and though the tribunes withstood him, contending that the oath had been sworn to the dead consul and not to quintius, yet the people under the influence of religious awe, chose rather to obey the consul than believe the tribunes. and titus livius commends their behaviour when he says: "_that neglect of the gods which now prevails, had not then made its way nor was it then the practice for every man to interpret his oath, or the laws, to suit his private ends_." the tribunes accordingly, fearing to lose their entire ascendency, consented to obey the consul, and to refrain for a year from moving in the matter of the terentillian law; while the consuls, on their part, undertook that for a year the commons should not be called forth to war. and thus, with the help of religion, the senate were able to overcome a difficulty which they never could have overcome without it. chapter xiv.--_that the romans interpreted the auspices to meet the occasion; and made a prudent show of observing the rites of religion even when forced to disregard them; and any who rashly slighted religion they punished._ auguries were not only, as we have shown above, a main foundation of the old religion of the gentiles, but were also the cause of the prosperity of the roman commonwealth. accordingly, the romans gave more heed to these than to any other of their observances; resorting to them in their consular comitia; in undertaking new enterprises; in calling out their armies; in going into battle; and, in short, in every business of importance, whether civil or military. nor would they ever set forth on any warlike expedition, until they had satisfied their soldiers that the gods had promised them victory. among other means of declaring the auguries, they had in their armies a class of soothsayers, named by them _pullarii_, whom, when they desired to give battle, they would ask to take the auspices, which they did by observing the behaviour of fowls. if the fowls pecked, the engagement was begun with a favourable omen. if they refused, battle was declined. nevertheless, when it was plain on the face of it that a certain course had to be taken, they take it at all hazards, even though the auspices were adverse; contriving, however, to manage matters so adroitly as not to appear to throw any slight on religion; as was done by the consul papirius in the great battle he fought with the samnites wherein that nation was finally broken and overthrown. for papirius being encamped over against the samnites, and perceiving that he fought, victory was certain, and consequently being eager to engage, desired the omens to be taken. the fowls refused to peck; but the chief soothsayer observing the eagerness of the soldiers to fight and the confidence felt both by them and by their captain, not to deprive the army of such an opportunity of glory, reported to the consul that the auspices were favourable. whereupon papirius began to array his army for battle. but some among the soothsayers having divulged to certain of the soldiers that the fowls had not pecked, this was told to spurius papirius, the nephew of the consul, who reporting it to his uncle, the latter straightway bade him mind his own business, for that so far as he himself and the army were concerned, the auspices were fair; and if the soothsayer had lied, the consequences were on his head. and that the event might accord with the prognostics, he commanded his officers to place the soothsayers in front of the battle. it so chanced that as they advanced against the enemy, the chief soothsayer was killed by a spear thrown by a roman soldier; which, the consul hearing of, said, "_all goes well, and as the gods would have it, for by the death of this liar the army is purged of blame and absolved from whatever displeasure these may have conceived against it_." and contriving, in this way to make his designs tally with the auspices, he joined battle, without the army knowing that the ordinances of religion had in any degree been disregarded. but an opposite course was taken by appius pulcher, in sicily, in the first carthaginian war. for desiring to join battle, he bade the soothsayers take the auspices, and on their announcing that the fowls refused to feed, he answered, "_let us see, then, whether they will drink,_" and, so saying, caused them to be thrown into the sea. after which he fought and was defeated. for this he was condemned at rome, while papirius was honoured; not so much because the one had gained while the other had lost a battle, as because in their treatment of the auspices the one had behaved discreetly, the other with rashness. and, in truth, the sole object of this system of taking the auspices was to insure the army joining battle with that confidence of success which constantly leads to victory; a device followed not by the romans only, but by foreign nations as well; of which i shall give an example in the following chapter. chapter xv.--_how the samnites, as a last resource in their broken fortunes, had recourse to religion._ the samnites, who before had met with many defeats at the hands of the romans, were at last decisively routed by them in etruria, where their armies were cut to pieces and their commanders slain. and because their allies also, such as the etruscans, the umbrians, and the gauls, were likewise vanquished, they "_could now no longer_" as livius tells us, "_either trust to their own strength or to foreign aid; yet, for all that, would not cease from hostilities, nor resign themselves to forfeit the liberty which they had_ unsuccessfully defended, preferring new defeats to an inglorious submission._" they resolved, therefore, to make a final effort; and as they knew that victory was only to be secured by inspiring their soldiers with a stubborn courage, to which end nothing could help so much as religion, at the instance of their high priest, ovius paccius, they revived an ancient sacrificial rite performed by them in the manner following. after offering solemn sacrifice they caused all the captains of their armies, standing between the slain victims and the smoking altars, to swear never to abandon the war. they then summoned the common soldiers, one by one, and before the same altars, and surrounded by a ring of many centurions with drawn swords, first bound them by oath never to reveal what they might see or hear; and then, after imprecating the divine wrath, and reciting the most terrible incantations, made them vow and swear to the gods, as they would not have a curse light on their race and offspring, to follow wherever their captains led, never to turn back from battle, and to put any they saw turn back to death. some who in their terror declined to swear, were forthwith slain by the centurions. the rest, warned by their cruel fate, complied. assembling thereafter to the number of forty thousand, one-half of whom, to render their appearance of unusual splendour were clad in white, with plumes and crests over their helmets, they took up their ground in the neighbourhood of aquilonia. but papirius, being sent against them, bade his soldiers be of good cheer, telling them "_that feathers made no wounds, and that a roman spear would pierce a painted shield;_" and to lessen the effect which the oath taken by the samnites had upon the minds of the romans, he said that such an oath must rather distract than strengthen those bound by it, since they had to fear, at once, their enemies, their comrades, and their gods. in the battle which ensued, the samnites were routed, any firmness lent them by religion or by the oath they had sworn, being balanced by the roman valour, and the terror inspired by past defeats. still we see that, in their own judgment, they had no other refuge to which to turn, nor other remedy for restoring their broken hopes; and this is strong testimony to the spirit which religion rightly used can arouse. some of the incidents which i have now been considering may be thought to relate rather to the foreign than to the domestic affairs of rome, which last alone form the proper subject of this book; nevertheless since the matter connects itself with one of the most important institutions of the roman republic, i have thought it convenient to notice it here, so as not to divide the subject and be obliged to return to it hereafter. chapter xvi.--_that a people accustomed to live under a prince, if by any accident it become free, can hardly preserve that freedom._ should a people accustomed to live under a prince by any accident become free, as did the romans on the expulsion of the tarquins, we know from numberless instances recorded in ancient history, how hard it will be for it to maintain that freedom. and this is no more than we might expect. for a people in such circumstances may be likened to the wild animal which, though destined by nature to roam at large in the woods, has been reared in the cage and in constant confinement and which, should it chance to be set free in the open country, being unused to find its own food, and unfamiliar with the coverts where it might lie concealed, falls a prey to the first who seeks to recapture it. even thus it fares with the people which has been accustomed to be governed by others; since ignorant how to act by itself either for attack or defence, and neither knowing foreign princes nor being known of them, it is speedily brought back under the yoke, and often under a heavier yoke than that from which it has just freed its neck. these difficulties will be met with, even where the great body of the citizens has not become wholly corrupted; but where the corruption is complete, freedom, as shall presently be shown, is not merely fleeting but impossible. wherefore my remarks are to be taken as applying to those states only wherein corruption has as yet made no great progress, and in which there is more that is sound than unsound. to the difficulties above noticed, another has to be added, which is, that a state in becoming free makes for itself bitter enemies but not warm friends. all become its bitter enemies who, drawing their support from the wealth of the tyrant, flourished under his government. for these men, when the causes which made them powerful are withdrawn, can no longer live contented, but are one and all impelled to attempt the restoration of the tyranny in hopes of regaining their former importance. on the other hand, as i have said, the state which becomes free does not gain for itself warm friends. for a free government bestows its honours and rewards in accordance with certain fixed rules, and on considerations of merit, without which none is honoured or rewarded. but when a man obtains only those honours or rewards which he seems to himself to deserve, he will never admit that he is under any obligation to those who bestow them. moreover the common benefits that all derive from a free government, which consist in the power to enjoy what is our own, openly and undisturbed, in having to feel no anxiety for the honour of wife or child, nor any fear for personal safety, are hardly recognized by men while they still possess them, since none will ever confess obligation to him who merely refrains from injury. for these reasons, i repeat, a state which has recently become free, is likely to have bitter enemies and no warm friends. now, to meet these difficulties and their attendant disorders, there is no more potent, effectual, wholesome, and necessary remedy than _to slay the sons of brutus_. they, as the historian tells us, were along with other young romans led to conspire against their country, simply because the unusual privileges which they had enjoyed under the kings, were withheld under the consuls; so that to them it seemed as though the freedom of the people implied their servitude. any one, therefore, who undertakes to control a people, either as their prince or as the head of a commonwealth, and does not make sure work with all who are hostile to his new institutions, founds a government which cannot last long. undoubtedly those princes are to be reckoned unhappy, who, to secure their position, are forced to advance by unusual and irregular paths, and with the people for their enemies. for while he who has to deal with a few adversaries only, can easily and without much or serious difficulty secure himself, he who has an entire people against him can never feel safe and the greater the severity he uses the weaker his authority becomes; so that his best course is to strive to make the people his friends. but since these views may seem to conflict with what i have said above, treating there of a republic and here of a prince, that i may not have to return to the subject again, i will in this place discuss it briefly. speaking, then of those princes who have become the tyrants of their country, i say that the prince who seeks to gain over an unfriendly people should first of all examine what it is the people really desire, and he will always find that they desire two things: first, to be revenged upon those who are the cause of their servitude; and second, to regain their freedom. the first of these desires the prince can gratify wholly, the second in part. as regards the former, we have an instance exactly in point. clearchus, tyrant of heraclea, being in exile, it so happened that on a feud arising between the commons and the nobles of that city, the latter, perceiving they were weaker than their adversaries, began to look with favour on clearchus, and conspiring with him, in opposition to the popular voice recalled him to heraclea and deprived the people of their freedom. clearchus finding himself thus placed between the arrogance of the nobles, whom he could in no way either satisfy or correct, and the fury of the people, who could not put up with the loss of their freedom, resolved to rid himself at a stroke from the harassment of the nobles and recommend himself to the people. wherefore, watching his opportunity, he caused all the nobles to be put to death, and thus, to the extreme delight of the people, satisfied one of those desires by which they are possessed, namely, the desire for vengeance. as for the other desire of the people, namely, to recover their freedom, the prince, since he never can content them in this, should examine what the causes are which make them long to be free; and he will find a very few of them desiring freedom that they may obtain power, but all the rest, whose number is countless, only desiring it that they may live securely. for in all republics, whatever the form of their government, barely forty or fifty citizens have any place in the direction of affairs; who, from their number being so small, can easily be reckoned with, either by making away with them, or by allowing them such a share of honours as, looking to their position, may reasonably content them. all those others whose sole aim it is to live safely, are well contented where the prince enacts such laws and ordinances as provide for the general security, while they establish his own authority; and when he does this, and the people see that nothing induces him to violate these laws, they soon begin to live happily and without anxiety. of this we have an example in the kingdom of france, which enjoys perfect security from this cause alone, that its kings are bound to compliance with an infinity of laws upon which the well-being of the whole people depends. and he who gave this state its constitution allowed its kings to do as they pleased as regards arms and money; but provided that as regards everything else they should not interfere save as the laws might direct. those rulers, therefore, who omit to provide sufficiently for the safety of their government at the outset, must, like the romans, do so on the first occasion which offers; and whoever lets the occasion slip, will repent too late of not having acted as he should. the romans, however, being still uncorrupted at the time when they recovered their freedom, were able, after slaying the sons of brutus and getting rid of the tarquins, to maintain it with all those safeguards and remedies which we have elsewhere considered. but had they already become corrupted, no remedy could have been found, either in rome or out of it, by which their freedom could have been secured; as i shall show in the following chapter. chapter xvii.--_that a corrupt people obtaining freedom can hardly preserve it._ i believe that if her kings had not been expelled, rome must very soon have become a weak and inconsiderable state. for seeing to what a pitch of corruption these kings had come, we may conjecture that if two or three more like reigns had followed, and the taint spread from the head to the members, so soon as the latter became infected, cure would have been hopeless. but from the head being removed while the trunk was still sound, it was not difficult for the romans to return to a free and constitutional government. it may be assumed, however, as most certain, that a corrupted city living under a prince can never recover its freedom, even were the prince and all his line to be exterminated. for in such a city it must necessarily happen that one prince will be replaced by another, and that things will never settle down until a new lord be established; unless, indeed, the combined goodness and valour of some one citizen should maintain freedom, which, even then, will endure only for his lifetime; as happened twice in syracuse, first under the rule of dion, and again under that of timoleon, whose virtues while they lived kept their city free, but on whose death it fell once more under a tyranny. but the strongest example that can be given is that of rome, which on the expulsion of the tarquins was able at once to seize on liberty and to maintain it; yet, on the deaths of cæsar, caligula, and nero, and on the extinction of the julian line, was not only unable to establish her freedom, but did not even venture a step in that direction. results so opposite arising in one and the same city can only be accounted for by this, that in the time of the tarquins the roman people were not yet corrupted, but in these later times had become utterly corrupt. for on the first occasion, nothing more was needed to prepare and determine them to shake off their kings, than that they should be bound by oath to suffer no king ever again to reign in rome; whereas, afterwards, the authority and austere virtue of brutus, backed by all the legions of the east, could not rouse them to maintain their hold of that freedom, which he, following in the footsteps of the first brutus, had won for them; and this because of the corruption wherewith the people had been infected by the marian faction, whereof cæsar becoming head, was able so to blind the multitude that it saw not the yoke under which it was about to lay its neck. though this example of rome be more complete than any other, i desire to instance likewise, to the same effect, certain peoples well known in our own days; and i maintain that no change, however grave or violent, could ever restore freedom to naples or milan, because in these states the entire body of the people has grown corrupted. and so we find that milan, although desirous to return to a free form of government, on the death of filippo visconti, had neither the force nor the skill needed to preserve it. most fortunate, therefore, was it for rome that her kings grew corrupt soon, so as to be driven out before the taint of their corruption had reached the vitals of the city. for it was because these were sound that the endless commotions which took place in rome, so far from being hurtful, were, from their object being good, beneficial to the commonwealth. from which we may draw this inference, that where the body of the people is still sound, tumults and other like disorders do little hurt, but that where it has become corrupted, laws, however well devised, are of no advantage, unless imposed by some one whose paramount authority causes them to be observed until the community be once more restored to a sound and healthy condition. whether this has ever happened i know not, nor whether it ever can happen. for we see, as i have said a little way back, that a city which owing to its pervading corruption has once begun to decline, if it is to recover at all, must be saved not by the excellence of the people collectively, but of some one man then living among them, on whose death it at once relapses into its former plight; as happened with thebes, in which the virtue of epaminondas made it possible while he lived to preserve the form of a free government, but which fell again on his death into its old disorders; the reason being that hardly any ruler lives so long as to have time to accustom to right methods a city which has long been accustomed to wrong. wherefore, unless things be put on a sound footing by some one ruler who lives to a very advanced age, or by two virtuous rulers succeeding one another, the city upon their death at once falls back into ruin; or, if it be preserved, must be so by incurring great risks, and at the cost of much blood. for the corruption i speak of, is wholly incompatible with a free government, because it results from an inequality which pervades the state and can only be removed by employing unusual and very violent remedies, such as few are willing or know how to employ, as in another place i shall more fully explain. chapter xviii.--_how a free government existing in a corrupt city may be preserved, or not existing may be created._ i think it neither out of place, nor inconsistent with what has been said above, to consider whether a free government existing in a corrupt city can be maintained, or, not existing, can be introduced. and on this head i say that it is very difficult to bring about either of these results, and next to impossible to lay down rules as to how it may be done; because the measures to be taken must vary with the degree of corruption which prevails. nevertheless, since it is well to reason things out, i will not pass this matter by, but will assume, in the first place, the case of a very corrupt city, and then take the case of one in which corruption has reached a still greater height; but where corruption is universal, no laws or institutions will ever have force to restrain it. because as good customs stand in need of good laws for their support, so laws, that they may be respected, stand in need of good customs. moreover, the laws and institutions established in a republic at its beginning, when men were good, are no longer suitable when they have become bad; but while the laws of a city are altered to suit its circumstances, its institutions rarely or never change; whence it results that the introduction of new laws is of no avail, because the institutions, remaining unchanged, corrupt them. and to make this plainer, i say that in rome it was first of all the institutions of the state, and next the laws as enforced by the magistrates, which kept the citizens under control. the institutions of the state consisted in the authority of the people, the senate, the tribunes, and the consuls; in the methods of choosing and appointing magistrates; and in the arrangements for passing laws. these institutions changed little, if at all, with circumstances. but the laws by which the people were controlled, as for instance the law relating to adultery, the sumptuary laws, the law as to canvassing at elections, and many others, were altered as the citizens grew more and more corrupted. hence, the institutions of the state remaining the same although from the corruption of the people no longer suitable, amendments in the laws could not keep men good, though they might have proved very useful if at the time when they were made the institutions had likewise been reformed. that its original institutions are no longer adapted to a city that has become corrupted, is plainly seen in two matters of great moment, i mean in the appointment of magistrates and in the passing of laws. for the roman people conferred the consulship and other great offices of their state on none save those who sought them; which was a good institution at first, because then none sought these offices save those who thought themselves worthy of them, and to be rejected was held disgraceful; so that, to be deemed worthy, all were on their best behaviour. but in a corrupted city this institution grew to be most mischievous. for it was no longer those of greatest worth, but those who had most influence, who sought the magistracies; while all who were without influence, however deserving, refrained through fear. this untoward result was not reached all at once, but like other similar results, by gradual steps. for after subduing africa and asia, and reducing nearly the whole of greece to submission, the romans became perfectly assured of their freedom, and seemed to themselves no longer to have any enemy whom they had cause to fear. but this security and the weakness of their adversaries led them in conferring the consulship, no longer to look to merit, but only to favour, selecting for the office those who knew best how to pay court to them, not those who knew best how to vanquish their enemies. and afterwards, instead of selecting those who were best liked, they came to select those who had most influence; and in this way, from the imperfection of their institutions, good men came to be wholly excluded. again, as to making laws, any of the tribunes and certain others of the magistrates were entitled to submit laws to the people; but before these were passed it was open to every citizen to speak either for or against them. this was a good system so long as the citizens were good, since it is always well that every man should be able to propose what he thinks may be of use to his country, and that all should be allowed to express their views with regard to his proposal; so that the people, having heard all, may resolve on what is best. but when the people grew depraved, this became a very mischievous institution; for then it was only the powerful who proposed laws, and these not in the interest of public freedom but of their own authority; and because, through fear, none durst speak against the laws they proposed, the people were either deceived or forced into voting their own destruction. in order, therefore, that rome after she had become corrupted might still preserve her freedom, it was necessary that, as in the course of events she had made new laws, so likewise she should frame new institutions, since different institutions and ordinances are needed in a corrupt state from those which suit a state which is not corrupted; for where the matter is wholly dissimilar, the form cannot be similar. but since old institutions must either be reformed all at once, as soon as they are seen to be no longer expedient, or else gradually, as the imperfection of each is recognized, i say that each of these two courses is all but impossible. for to effect a gradual reform requires a sagacious man who can discern mischief while it is still remote and in the germ. but it may well happen that no such person is found in a city; or that, if found, he is unable to persuade others of what he is himself persuaded. for men used to live in one way are loath to leave it for another, especially when they are not brought face to face with the evil against which they should guard, and only have it indicated to them by conjecture. and as for a sudden reform of institutions which are seen by all to be no longer good, i say that defects which are easily discerned are not easily corrected, because for their correction it is not enough to use ordinary means, these being in themselves insufficient; but recourse must be had to extraordinary means, such as violence and arms; and, as a preliminary, you must become prince of the city, and be able to deal with it at your pleasure. but since the restoration of a state to new political life presupposes a good man, and to become prince of a city by violence presupposes a bad man, it can, consequently, very seldom happen that, although the end be good, a good man will be found ready to become a prince by evil ways, or that a bad man having become a prince will be disposed to act virtuously, or think of turning to good account his ill-acquired authority. from all these causes comes the difficulty, or rather the impossibility, which a corrupted city finds in maintaining an existing free government, or in establishing a new one. so that had we to establish or maintain a government in that city, it would be necessary to give it a monarchical, rather than a popular form, in order that men too arrogant to be restrained by the laws, might in some measure be kept in check by a power almost absolute; since to attempt to make them good otherwise would be a very cruel or a wholly futile endeavour. this, as i have said, was the method followed by cleomenes; and if he, that he might stand alone, put to death the ephori; and if romulus, with a like object, put to death his brother and titus tatius the sabine, and if both afterwards made good use of the authority they thus acquired, it is nevertheless to be remembered that it was because neither cleomenes nor romulus had to deal with so corrupt a people as that of which i am now speaking, that they were able to effect their ends and to give a fair colour to their acts. chapter xix.--_after a strong prince a weak prince may maintain himself: but after one weak prince no kingdom can stand a second._ when we contemplate the excellent qualities of romulus, numa, and tullus, the first three kings of rome, and note the methods which they followed, we recognize the extreme good fortune of that city in having her first king fierce and warlike, her second peaceful and religious, and her third, like the first, of a high spirit and more disposed to war than to peace. for it was essential for rome that almost at the outset of her career, a ruler should be found to lay the foundations of her civil life; but, after that had been done, it was necessary that her rulers should return to the virtues of romulus, since otherwise the city must have grown feeble, and become a prey to her neighbours. and here we may note that a prince who succeeds to another of superior valour, may reign on by virtue of his predecessor's merits, and reap the fruits of his labours; but if he live to a great age, or if he be followed by another who is wanting in the qualities of the first, that then the kingdom must necessarily dwindle. conversely, when two consecutive princes are of rare excellence, we commonly find them achieving results which win for them enduring renown. david, for example, not only surpassed in learning and judgment, but was so valiant in arms that, after conquering and subduing all his neighbours, he left to his young son solomon a tranquil state, which the latter, though unskilled in the arts of war, could maintain by the arts of peace, and thus happily enjoy the inheritance of his father's valour. but solomon could not transmit this inheritance to his son rehoboam, who neither resembling his grandfather in valour, nor his father in good fortune, with difficulty made good his right to a sixth part of the kingdom. in like manner bajazet, sultan of the turks, though a man of peace rather than of war, was able to enjoy the labours of mahomet his father, who, like david, having subdued his neighbours, left his son a kingdom so safely established that it could easily be retained by him by peaceful arts. but had selim, son to bajazet, been like his father, and not like his grandfather, the turkish monarchy must have been overthrown; as it is, he seems likely to outdo the fame of his grandsire. i affirm it to be proved by these examples, that after a valiant prince a feeble prince may maintain himself; but that no kingdom can stand when two feeble princes follow in succession, unless, as in the case of france, it be supported by its ancient ordinances. by feeble princes, i mean such as are not valiant in war. and, to put the matter shortly, it may be said, that the great valour of romulus left numa a period of many years within which to govern rome by peaceful arts; that after numa came tullus, who renewed by his courage the fame of romulus; and that he in turn was succeeded by ancus, a prince so gifted by nature that he could equally avail himself of the methods of peace or war; who setting himself at first to pursue the former, when he found that his neighbours judged him to be effeminate, and therefore held him in slight esteem, understood that to preserve rome he must resort to arms and resemble romulus rather than numa. from whose example every ruler of a state may learn that a prince like numa will hold or lose his power according as fortune and circumstances befriend him; but that the prince who resembles romulus, and like him is fortified with foresight and arms, will hold his state whatever befall, unless deprived of it by some stubborn and irresistible force. for we may reckon with certainty that if rome had not had for her third king one who knew how to restore her credit by deeds of valour, she could not, or at any rate not without great difficulty, have afterwards held her ground, nor could ever have achieved the great exploits she did. and for these reasons rome, while she lived under her kings, was in constant danger of destruction through a king who might be weak or bad. chapter xx.--_that the consecutive reigns of two valiant princes produce great results: and that well-ordered commonwealths are assured of a succession of valiant rulers by whom their power and growth are rapidly extended_. when rome had driven out her kings, she was freed from those dangers to which, as i have said, she was exposed by the possible succession of a weak or wicked prince. for the chief share in the government then devolved upon the consuls, who took their authority not by inheritance, nor yet by craft or by ambitious violence, but by the free suffrages of their fellow-citizens, and were always men of signal worth; by whose valour and good fortune rome being constantly aided, was able to reach the height of her greatness in the same number of years as she had lived under her kings. and since we find that two successive reigns of valiant princes, as of philip of macedon and his son alexander, suffice to conquer the world, this ought to be still easier for a commonwealth, which has it in its power to choose, not two excellent rulers only, but an endless number in succession. and in every well ordered commonwealth provision will be made for a succession of this sort. chapter xxi.--_that it is a great reproach to a prince or to a commonwealth to be without a national army_. those princes and republics of the present day who lack forces of their own, whether for attack or defence, should take shame to themselves, and should be convinced by the example of tullus, that their deficiency does not arise from want of men fit for warlike enterprises, but from their own fault in not knowing how to make their subjects good soldiers. for after rome had been at peace for forty years, tullus, succeeding to the kingdom, found not a single roman who had ever been in battle. nevertheless when he made up his mind to enter on a war, it never occurred to him to have recourse to the samnites, or the etruscans, or to any other of the neighbouring nations accustomed to arms, but he resolved, like the prudent prince he was, to rely on his own countrymen. and such was his ability that, under his rule, the people very soon became admirable soldiers. for nothing is more true than that where a country, having men, lacks soldiers, it results from some fault in its ruler, and not from any defect in the situation or climate. of this we have a very recent instance. every one knows, how, only the other day, the king of england invaded the realm of france with an army raised wholly from among his own people, although from his country having been at peace for thirty years, he had neither men nor officers who had ever looked an enemy in the face. nevertheless, he did not hesitate with such troops as he had, to attack a kingdom well provided with officers and excellent soldiers who had been constantly under arms in the italian wars. and this was possible through the prudence of the english king and the wise ordinances of his kingdom, which never in time of peace relaxes its warlike discipline. so too, in old times, pelopidas and epaminondas the thebans, after they had freed thebes from her tyrants, and rescued her from thraldom to sparta, finding themselves in a city used to servitude and surrounded by an effeminate people, scrupled not, so great was their courage, to furnish these with arms, and go forth with them to meet and to conquer the spartan forces on the field. and he who relates this, observes, that these two captains very soon showed that warriors are not bred in lacedæmon alone, but in every country where men are found, if only some one arise among them who knows how to direct them to arms; as we see tullus knew how to direct the romans. nor could virgil better express this opinion, or show by fitter words that he was convinced of its truth than, when he says:-- "to arms shall tullus rouse his sluggish warriors."[ ] [footnote : residesque movebit tullus in arma viros. _virg. aen_. vi. .] chapter xxii.--_what is to be noted in the combat of the three roman horatii and the three alban curiatii_. it was agreed between tullus king of rome, and metius king of alba, that the nation whose champions were victorious in combat should rule over the other. the three alban curiatii were slain; one of the roman horatii survived. whereupon the alban king with all his people became subject to the romans. the surviving horatius returning victorious to rome, and meeting his sister, wife to one of the dead curiatii, bewailing the death of her husband, slew her; and being tried for this crime, was, after much contention, liberated, rather on the entreaties of his father than for his own deserts. herein three points are to be noted. _first_, that we should never peril our whole fortunes on the success of only a part of our forces. _second_, that in a well-governed state, merit should never be allowed to balance crime. and _third_, that those are never wise covenants which we cannot or should not expect to be observed. now, for a state to be enslaved is so terrible a calamity that it ought never to have been supposed possible that either of these kings or nations would rest content under a slavery resulting from the defeat of three only of their number. and so it appeared to metius; for although on the victory of the roman champions, he at once confessed himself vanquished, and promised obedience; nevertheless, in the very first expedition which he and tullus undertook jointly against the people of veii, we find him seeking to circumvent the roman, as though perceiving too late the rash part he had played. this is enough to say of the third point which i noted as deserving attention. of the other two i shall speak in the next two chapters. chapter xxiii.--_that we should never hazard our whole fortunes where we put not forth our entire strength; for which reason to guard a defile is often hurtful_. it was never judged a prudent course to peril your whole fortunes where you put not forth your whole strength; as may happen in more ways than one. one of these ways was that taken by tullus and metius, when each staked the existence of his country and the credit of his army on the valour and good fortune of three only of his soldiers, that being an utterly insignificant fraction of the force at his disposal. for neither of these kings reflected that all the labours of their predecessors in framing such institutions for their states, as might, with the aid of the citizens themselves, maintain them long in freedom, were rendered futile, when the power to ruin all was left in the hands of so small a number. no rasher step, therefore, could have been taken, than was taken by these kings. a like risk is almost always incurred by those who, on the approach of an enemy, resolve to defend some place of strength, or to guard the defiles by which their country is entered. for unless room be found in this place of strength for almost all your army, the attempt to hold it will almost always prove hurtful. if you can find room, it will be right to defend your strong places; but if these be difficult of access, and you cannot there keep your entire force together, the effort to defend is mischievous. i come to this conclusion from observing the example of those who, although their territories be enclosed by mountains and precipices, have not, on being attacked by powerful enemies, attempted to fight on the mountains or in the defiles, but have advanced beyond them to meet their foes; or, if unwilling to advance, have awaited attack behind their mountains, on level and not on broken ground. the reason of which is, as i have above explained, that many men cannot be assembled in these strong places for their defence; partly because a large number of men cannot long subsist there, and partly because such places being narrow and confined, afford room for a few only; so that no enemy can there be withstood, who comes in force to the attack; which he can easily do, his design being to pass on and not to make a stay; whereas he who stands on the defensive cannot do so in force, because, from not knowing when the enemy may enter the confined and sterile tracts of which i speak, he may have to lodge himself there for a long time. but should you lose some pass which you had reckoned on holding, and on the defence of which your country and army have relied, there commonly follows such panic among your people and among the troops which remain to you, that you are vanquished without opportunity given for any display of valour, and lose everything without bringing all your resources into play. every one has heard with what difficulty hannibal crossed the alps which divide france from lombardy, and afterwards those which separate lombardy from tuscany. nevertheless the romans awaited him, in the first instance on the banks of the ticino, in the second on the plain of arezzo, preferring to be defeated on ground which at least gave them a chance of victory, to leading their army into mountain fastnesses where it was likely to be destroyed by the mere difficulties of the ground. and any who read history with attention will find, that very few capable commanders have attempted to hold passes of this nature, as well for the reasons already given, as because to close them all were impossible. for mountains, like plains, are traversed not only by well-known and frequented roads, but also by many by-ways, which, though unknown to strangers, are familiar to the people of the country, under whose guidance you may always, and in spite of any opposition, be easily conducted to whatever point you please. of this we have a recent instance in the events of the year . for when francis i. of france resolved on invading italy in order to recover the province of lombardy, those hostile to his attempt looked mainly to the swiss, who it was hoped would stop him in passing through their mountains. but this hope was disappointed by the event. for leaving on one side two or three defiles which were guarded by the swiss, the king advanced by another unknown pass, and was in italy and upon his enemies before they knew. whereupon they fled terror-stricken into milan; while the whole population of lombardy, finding themselves deceived in their expectation that the french would be detained in the mountains, went over to their side. chapter xxiv.--_that well-ordered states always provide rewards and punishments for their citizens; and never set off deserts against misdeeds_. the valour of horatius in vanquishing the curiatii deserved the highest reward. but in slaying his sister he had been guilty of a heinous crime. and so displeasing to the romans was an outrage of this nature, that although his services were so great and so recent, they brought him to trial for his life. to one looking at it carelessly, this might seem an instance of popular ingratitude, but he who considers the matter more closely, and examines with sounder judgment what the ordinances of a state should be, will rather blame the roman people for acquitting horatius than for putting him on his trial. and this because no well-ordered state ever strikes a balance between the services of its citizens and their misdeeds; but appointing rewards for good actions and punishment for bad, when it has rewarded a man for acting well, will afterwards, should he act ill, chastise him, without regard to his former deserts. when these ordinances are duly observed, a city will live long in freedom, but when they are neglected, it must soon come to ruin. for when a citizen has rendered some splendid service to his country, if to the distinction which his action in itself confers, were added an over-weening confidence that any crime he might thenceforth commit would pass unpunished, he would soon become so arrogant that no civil bonds could restrain him. still, while we would have punishment terrible to wrongdoers, it is essential that good actions should be rewarded, as we see to have been the case in rome. for even where a republic is poor, and has but little to give, it ought not to withhold that little; since a gift, however small, bestowed as a reward for services however great, will always be esteemed most honourable and precious by him who receives it. the story of horatius cocles and that of mutius scævola are well known: how the one withstood the enemy on the bridge while it was being cut down, and the other thrust his hand into the fire in punishment of the mistake made when he sought the life of porsenna the etruscan king. to each of these two, in requital of their splendid deeds, two ploughgates only of the public land were given. another famous story is that of manlius capitolinus, to whom, for having saved the capitol from the besieging gauls, a small measure of meal was given by each of those who were shut up with him during the siege. which recompense, in proportion to the wealth of the citizens of rome at that time, was thought ample; so that afterwards, when manlius, moved by jealousy and malice, sought to arouse sedition in rome, and to gain over the people to his cause, they without regard to his past services threw him headlong from that capitol in saving which he had formerly gained so great a renown. chapter xxv.--_that he who would reform the institutions of a free state, must retain at least the semblance of old ways._ whoever takes upon him to reform the government of a city, must, if his measures are to be well received and carried out with general approval, preserve at least the semblance of existing methods, so as not to appear to the people to have made any change in the old order of things; although, in truth, the new ordinances differ altogether from those which they replace. for when this is attended to, the mass of mankind accept what seems as what is; nay, are often touched more nearly by appearances than by realities. this tendency being recognized by the romans at the very outset of their civil freedom, when they appointed two consuls in place of a single king, they would not permit the consuls to have more than twelve lictors, in order that the old number of the king's attendants might not be exceeded. again, there being solemnized every year in rome a sacrificial rite which could only be performed by the king in person, that the people might not be led by the absence of the king to remark the want of any ancient observance, a priest was appointed for the due celebration of this rite, to whom was given the name of _rex sacrificulus_, and who was placed under the orders of the chief priest. in this way the people were contented, and had no occasion from any defect in the solemnities to desire the return of their kings. like precautions should be used by all who would put an end to the old government of a city and substitute new and free institutions. for since novelty disturbs men's minds, we should seek in the changes we make to preserve as far as possible what is ancient, so that if the new magistrates differ from the old in number, in authority, or in the duration of their office, they shall at least retain the old names. this, i say, should be seen to by him who would establish a constitutional government, whether in the form of a commonwealth or of a kingdom. but he who would create an absolute government of the kind which political writers term a tyranny, must renew everything, as shall be explained in the following chapter. chapter xxvi.--_a new prince in a city or province of which he has taken possession, ought to make everything new._ whosoever becomes prince of a city or state, more especially if his position be so insecure that he cannot resort to constitutional government either in the form of a republic or a monarchy, will find that the best way to preserve his princedom is to renew the whole institutions of that state; that is to say, to create new magistracies with new names, confer new powers, and employ new men, and like david when he became king, exalt the humble and depress the great, "_filling the hungry with good things, and sending the rich empty away_." moreover, he must pull down existing towns and rebuild them, removing their inhabitants from one place to another; and, in short, leave nothing in the country as he found it; so that there shall be neither rank, nor condition, nor honour, nor wealth which its possessor can refer to any but to him. and he must take example from philip of macedon, the father of alexander, who by means such as these, from being a petty prince became monarch of all greece; and of whom it was written that he shifted men from province to province as a shepherd moves his flocks from one pasture to another. these indeed are most cruel expedients, contrary not merely to every christian, but to every civilized rule of conduct, and such as every man should shun, choosing rather to lead a private life than to be a king on terms so hurtful to mankind. but he who will not keep to the fair path of virtue, must to maintain himself enter this path of evil. men, however, not knowing how to be wholly good or wholly bad, choose for themselves certain middle ways, which of all others are the most pernicious, as shall be shown by an instance in the following chapter. chapter xxvii.--_that men seldom know how to be wholly good or wholly bad_. when in the year , pope julius ii. went to bologna to expel from that city the family of the bentivogli, who had been princes there for over a hundred years, it was also in his mind, as a part of the general design he had planned against all those lords who had usurped church lands, to remove giovanpagolo baglioni, tyrant of perugia. and coming to perugia with this intention and resolve, of which all men knew, he would not wait to enter the town with a force sufficient for his protection, but entered it unattended by troops, although giovanpagolo was there with a great company of soldiers whom he had assembled for his defence. and thus, urged on by that impetuosity which stamped all his actions, accompanied only by his body-guard, he committed himself into the hands of his enemy, whom he forthwith carried away with him, leaving a governor behind to hold the town for the church. all prudent men who were with the pope remarked on his temerity, and on the pusillanimity of giovanpagolo; nor could they conjecture why the latter had not, to his eternal glory, availed himself of this opportunity for crushing his enemy, and at the same time enriching himself with plunder, the pope being attended by the whole college of cardinals with all their luxurious equipage. for it could not be supposed that he was withheld by any promptings of goodness or scruples of conscience; because in the breast of a profligate living in incest with his sister, and who to obtain the princedom had put his nephews and kinsmen to death, no virtuous impulse could prevail. so that the only inference to be drawn was, that men know not how to be splendidly wicked or wholly good, and shrink in consequence from such crimes as are stamped with an inherent greatness or disclose a nobility of nature. for which reason giovanpagolo, who thought nothing of incurring the guilt of incest, or of murdering his kinsmen, could not, or more truly durst not, avail himself of a fair occasion to do a deed which all would have admired; which would have won for him a deathless fame as the first to teach the prelates how little those who live and reign as they do are to be esteemed; and which would have displayed a greatness far transcending any infamy or danger that could attach to it. chapter xxviii.--_whence it came that the romans were less ungrateful to their citizens than were the athenians_. in the histories of all republics we meet with instances of some sort of ingratitude to their great citizens, but fewer in the history of rome than of athens, or indeed of any other republic. searching for the cause of this, i am persuaded that, so far as regards rome and athens, it was due to the romans having had less occasion than the athenians to look upon their fellow-citizens with suspicion for, from the expulsion of her kings down to the times of sylla and marius, the liberty of rome was never subverted by any one of her citizens; so that there never was in that city grave cause for distrusting any man, and in consequence making him the victim of inconsiderate injustice. the reverse was notoriously the case with athens; for that city, having, at a time when she was most flourishing, been deprived of her freedom by pisistratus under a false show of good-will, remembering, after she regained her liberty, her former bondage and all the wrongs she had endured, became the relentless chastiser, not of offences only on the part of her citizens, but even of the shadow of an offence. hence the banishment and death of so many excellent men, and hence the law of ostracism, and all those other violent measures which from time to time during the history of that city were directed against her foremost citizens. for this is most true which is asserted by the writers on civil government, that a people which has recovered its freedom, bites more fiercely than one which has always preserved it. and any who shall weigh well what has been said, will not condemn athens in this matter, nor commend rome, but refer all to the necessity arising out of the different conditions prevailing in the two states. for careful reflection will show that had rome been deprived of her freedom as athens was, she would not have been a whit more tender to her citizens. this we may reasonably infer from remarking what, after the expulsion of the kings, befell collatinus and publius valerius; the former of whom, though he had taken part in the liberation of rome, was sent into exile for no other reason than that he bore the name of tarquin; while the sole ground of suspicion against the latter, and what almost led to his banishment, was his having built a house upon the cælian hill. seeing how harsh and suspicious rome was in these two instances, we may surmise that she would have shown the same ingratitude as athens, had she, like athens, been wronged by her citizens at an early stage of her growth, and before she had attained to the fulness of her strength. that i may not have to return to this question of ingratitude, i shall say all that remains to be said about it in my next chapter. chapter xxix.--_whether a people or a prince is the more ungrateful._ in connection with what has been said above, it seems proper to consider whether more notable instances of ingratitude are supplied by princes or peoples. and, to go to the root of the matter, i affirm that this vice of ingratitude has its source either in avarice or in suspicion. for a prince or people when they have sent forth a captain on some important enterprise, by succeeding in which he earns a great name, are bound in return to reward him; and if moved by avarice and covetousness they fail to do so, or if, instead of rewarding, they wrong and disgrace him, they commit an error which is not only without excuse, but brings with it undying infamy. and, in fact, we find many princes who have sinned in this way, for the cause given by cornelius tacitus when he says, that "_men are readier to pay back injuries than benefits, since to requite a benefit is felt to be a burthen, to return an injury a gain_."[ ] when, however, reward is withheld, or, to speak more correctly, where offence is given, not from avarice but from suspicion, the prince or people may deserve some excuse; and we read of many instances of ingratitude proceeding from this cause. for the captain who by his valour has won new dominions for his prince, since while overcoming his enemies, he at the same time covers himself with glory and enriches his soldiers, must needs acquire such credit with his own followers, and with the enemy, and also with the subjects of his prince, as cannot be wholly agreeable to the master who sent him forth. and since men are by nature ambitious as well as jealous, and none loves to set a limit to his fortunes, the suspicion which at once lays hold of the prince when he sees his captain victorious, is sure to be inflamed by some arrogant act or word of the captain himself. so that the prince will be unable to think of anything but how to secure himself; and to this end will contrive how he may put his captain to death, or at any rate deprive him of the credit he has gained with the army and among the people; doing all he can to show that the victory was not won by his valour, but by good fortune, or by the cowardice of the enemy, or by the skill and prudence of those commanders who were with him at this or the other battle. after vespasian, who was then in judæa, had been proclaimed emperor by his army, antonius primus, who commanded another army in illyria, adopted his cause, and marching into italy against vitellius who had been proclaimed emperor in rome, courageously defeated two armies under that prince, and occupied rome; so that mutianus, who was sent thither by vespasian, found everything done to his hand, and all difficulties surmounted by the valour of antonius. but all the reward which antonius had for his pains, was, that mutianus forthwith deprived him of his command of the army, and by degrees diminished his authority in rome till none was left him. thereupon antonius went to join vespasian, who was still in asia; by whom he was so coldly received and so little considered, that in despair he put himself to death. and of cases like this, history is full. every man living at the present hour knows with what zeal and courage gonsalvo of cordova, while conducting the war in naples against the french, conquered and subdued that kingdom for his master ferdinand of aragon; and how his services were requited by ferdinand coming from aragon to naples, and first of all depriving him of the command of the army, afterwards of the fortresses, and finally carrying him back with him to spain, where soon after he died in disgrace. this jealousy, then, is so natural to princes, that they cannot guard themselves against it, nor show gratitude to those who serving under their standard have gained great victories and made great conquests on their behalf. and if it be impossible for princes to free their minds from such suspicions, there is nothing strange or surprising that a people should be unable to do so. for as a city living under free institutions has two ends always before it, namely to acquire liberty and to preserve it, it must of necessity be led by its excessive passion for liberty to make mistakes in the pursuit of both these objects. of the mistakes it commits in the effort to acquire liberty, i shall speak, hereafter, in the proper place. of mistakes committed in the endeavour to preserve liberty are to be noted, the injuring those citizens who ought to be rewarded, and the suspecting those who should be trusted. now, although in a state which has grown corrupt these errors occasion great evils, and commonly lead to a tyranny, as happened in rome when cæsar took by force what ingratitude had denied him, they are nevertheless the cause of much good in the republic which has not been corrupted, since they prolong the duration of its free institutions, and make men, through fear of punishment, better and less ambitious. of all peoples possessed of great power, the romans, for the reasons i have given, have undoubtedly been the least ungrateful, since we have no other instance of their ingratitude to cite, save that of scipio. for both coriolanus and camillus were banished on account of the wrongs which they inflicted on the commons; and though the former was not forgiven because he constantly retained ill will against the people, the latter was not only recalled, but for the rest of his life honoured as a prince. but the ingratitude shown towards scipio arose from the suspicion wherewith the citizens came to regard him, which they had not felt in the case of the others, and which was occasioned by the greatness of the enemy whom he had overthrown, the fame he had won by prevailing in so dangerous and protracted a war, the suddenness of his victories, and, finally, the favour which his youth, together with his prudence and his other memorable qualities had gained for him. these qualities were, in truth, so remarkable that the very magistrates, not to speak of others, stood in awe of his authority, a circumstance displeasing to prudent citizens, as before unheard of in rome. in short, his whole bearing and character were so much out of the common, that even the elder cato, so celebrated for his austere virtue, was the first to declare against him, saying that no city could be deemed free which contained a citizen who was feared by the magistrates. and since, in this instance, the romans followed the opinion of cato, they merit that excuse which, as i have said already, should be extended to the prince or people who are ungrateful through suspicion. in conclusion it is to be said that while this vice of ingratitude has its origin either in avarice or in suspicion, commonwealths are rarely led into it by avarice, and far seldomer than princes by suspicion, having, as shall presently be shown, far less reason than princes for suspecting. [footnote : proclivius est injuriæ quam beneficio vicem exsolvere, quia gratia oneri, ultio in quastu habetur. _tacit. hist._ iv. .] chapter xxx.--_how princes and commonwealths may avoid the vice of ingratitude; and how a captain or citizen may escape being undone by it._ that he may not be tormented by suspicion, nor show ungrateful, a prince should go himself on his wars as the roman emperors did at first, as the turk does now, and, in short, as all valiant princes have done and do. for when it is the prince himself who conquers, the glory and the gain are all his own; but when he is absent, since the glory is another's, it will seem to the prince that he profits nothing by the gain, unless that glory be quenched which he knew not how to win for himself; and when he thus becomes ungrateful and unjust, doubtless his loss is greater than his gain. to the prince, therefore, who, either through indolence or from want of foresight, sends forth a captain to conduct his wars while he himself remains inactive at home, i have no advice to offer which he does not already know. but i would counsel the captain whom he sends, since i am sure that he can never escape the attacks of ingratitude, to follow one or other of two courses, and either quit his command at once after a victory, and place himself in the hands of his prince, while carefully abstaining from every vainglorious or ambitious act, so that the prince, being relieved from all suspicion, may be disposed to reward, or at any rate not to injure him; or else, should he think it inexpedient for him to act in this way, to take boldly the contrary course, and fearlessly to follow out all such measures as he thinks will secure for himself, and not for his prince, whatever he has gained; conciliating the good-will of his soldiers and fellow-citizens, forming new friendships with neighbouring potentates, placing his own adherents in fortified towns, corrupting the chief officers of his army and getting rid of those whom he fails to corrupt, and by all similar means endeavouring to punish his master for the ingratitude which he looks for at his hands. these are the only two courses open; but since, as i said before, men know not how to be wholly good or wholly bad, it will never happen that after a victory a captain will quit his army and conduct himself modestly, nor yet that he will venture to use those hardy methods which have in them some strain of greatness; and so, remaining undecided, he will be crushed while he still wavers and doubts. a commonwealth desiring to avoid the vice of ingratitude is, as compared with a prince, at this disadvantage, that while a prince can go himself on his expeditions, the commonwealth must send some one of its citizens. as a remedy, i would recommend that course being adopted which was followed by the roman republic in order to be less ungrateful than others, having its origin in the nature of the roman government. for the whole city, nobles and commons alike, taking part in her wars, there were always found in rome at every stage of her history, so many valiant and successful soldiers, that by reason of their number, and from one acting as a check upon another, the nation had never ground to be jealous of any one man among them; while they, on their part, lived uprightly, and were careful to betray no sign of ambition, nor give the people the least cause to distrust them as ambitious; so that he obtained most glory from his dictatorship who was first to lay it down. which conduct, as it excited no suspicion, could occasion no ingratitude. we see, then, that the commonwealth which would have no cause to be ungrateful, must act as rome did; and that the citizen who would escape ingratitude, must observe those precautions which were observed by roman citizens. chapter xxxi.--_that the roman captains were never punished with extreme severity for misconduct; and where loss resulted to the republic merely through their ignorance or want of judgment, were not punished at all_. the romans were not only, as has been said above, less ungrateful than other republics, but were also more lenient and more considerate than others in punishing the captains of their armies. for if these erred of set purpose, they chastised them with gentleness; while if they erred through ignorance, so far from punishing, they even honoured and rewarded them. and this conduct was well considered. for as they judged it of the utmost moment, that those in command of their armies should, in all they had to do, have their minds undisturbed and free from external anxieties, they would not add further difficulty and danger to a task in itself both dangerous and difficult, lest none should ever be found to act with valour. for supposing them to be sending forth an army against philip of macedon in greece or against hannibal in italy, or against any other enemy at whose hands they had already sustained reverses, the captain in command of that expedition would be weighted with all the grave and important cares which attend such enterprises. but if to all these cares, had been added the example of roman generals crucified or otherwise put to death for having lost battles, it would have been impossible for a commander surrounded by so many causes for anxiety to have acted with vigour and decision. for which reason, and because they thought that to such persons the mere ignominy of defeat was in itself punishment enough, they would not dishearten their generals by inflicting on them any heavier penalty. of errors committed not through ignorance, the following is an instance. sergius and virginius were engaged in the siege of veii, each being in command of a division of the army, and while sergius was set to guard against the approach of the etruscans, it fell to virginius to watch the town. but sergius being attacked by the faliscans and other tribes, chose rather to be defeated and routed than ask aid from virginius, who, on his part, awaiting the humiliation of his rival, was willing to see his country dishonoured and an army destroyed, sooner than go unasked to his relief. this was notable misconduct, and likely, unless both offenders were punished, to bring discredit on the roman name. but whereas another republic would have punished these men with death, the romans were content to inflict only a money fine: not because the offence did not in itself deserve severe handling, but because they were unwilling, for the reasons already given, to depart in this instance from their ancient practice. of errors committed through ignorance we have no better example than in the case of varro, through whose rashness the romans were defeated by hannibal at cannæ, where the republic well-nigh lost its liberty. but because he had acted through ignorance and with no evil design, they not only refrained from punishing him, but even treated him with distinction; the whole senate going forth to meet him on his return to rome, and as they could not thank him for having fought, thanking him for having come back, and for not having despaired of the fortunes his country. again, when papirius cursor would have had fabius put to death, because, contrary to his orders, he had fought with the samnites, among the reasons pleaded by the father of fabius against the persistency of the dictator, he urged that never on the occasion of the defeat of any of their captains had the romans done what papirius desired them to do on the occasion of a victory. chapter xxxii.--_that a prince or commonwealth should not delay conferring benefits until they are themselves in difficulties._ the romans found it for their advantage to be generous to the commons at a season of danger, when porsenna came to attack rome and restore the tarquins. for the senate, apprehending that the people might choose rather to take back their kings than to support a war, secured their adherence by relieving them of the duty on salt and of all their other burthens; saying that "_the poor did enough for the common welfare in rearing their offspring._" in return for which indulgence the commons were content to undergo war, siege, and famine. let no one however, relying on this example, delay conciliating the people till danger has actually come; or, if he do, let him not hope to have the same good fortune as the romans. for the mass of the people will consider that they have to thank not him, but his enemies, and that there is ground to fear that when the danger has passed away, he will take back what he gave under compulsion, and, therefore, that to him they lie under no obligation. and the reason why the course followed by the romans succeeded, was that the state was still new and unsettled. besides which, the people knew that laws had already been passed in their favour, as, for instance, the law allowing an appeal to the tribunes, and could therefore persuade themselves that the benefits granted them proceeded from the good-will entertained towards them by the senate, and were not due merely to the approach of an enemy. moreover, the memory of their kings, by whom they had in many ways been wronged and ill-treated, was still fresh in their minds. but since like conditions seldom recur, it can only rarely happen that like remedies are useful. wherefore, all, whether princes or republics, who hold the reins of government, ought to think beforehand of the adverse times which may await them, and of what help they may then stand in need; and ought so to live with their people as they would think right were they suffering under any calamity. and, whosoever, whether prince or republic, but prince more especially, behaves otherwise, and believes that after the event and when danger is upon him he will be able to win men over by benefits, deceives himself, and will not merely fail to maintain his place, but will even precipitate his downfall. chapter xxxiii.--_when a mischief has grown up in, or against a state, it is safer to temporize with than to meet it with violence_. as rome grew in fame, power, and dominion, her neighbours, who at first had taken no heed to the injury which this new republic might do them, began too late to see their mistake, and desiring to remedy what should have been remedied before, combined against her to the number of forty nations. whereupon the romans, resorting to a method usual with them in seasons of peril, appointed a dictator; that is, gave power to one man to decide without advice, and carry out his resolves without appeal. which expedient, as it then enabled them to overcome the dangers by which they were threatened, so always afterwards proved most serviceable, when, at any time during the growth of their power, difficulties arose to embarrass their republic. in connection with this league against rome we have first to note, that when a mischief which springs up either in or against a republic, and whether occasioned by internal or external causes, has grown to such proportions that it begins to fill the whole community with alarm, it is a far safer course to temporize with it than to attempt to quell it by violence. for commonly those who make this attempt only add fuel to the flame, and hasten the impending ruin. such disorders arise in a republic more often from internal causes than external, either through some citizen being suffered to acquire undue influence, or from the corruption of some institution of that republic, which had once been the life and sinew of its freedom; and from this corruption being allowed to gain such head that the attempt to check it is more dangerous than to let it be. and it is all the harder to recognize these disorders in their beginning, because it seems natural to men to look with favour on the beginnings of things. favour of this sort, more than by anything else, is attracted by those actions which seem to have in them a quality of greatness, or which are performed by the young. for when in a republic some young man is seen to come forward endowed with rare excellence, the eyes of all the citizens are at once turned upon him, and all, without distinction, concur to do him honour; so that if he have one spark of ambition, the advantages which he has from nature, together with those he takes from this favourable disposition of men's minds, raise him to such a pitch of power, that when the citizens at last see their mistake it is almost impossible for them to correct it; and when they do what they can to oppose his influence the only result is to extend it. of this i might cite numerous examples, but shall content myself with one relating to our own city. cosimo de' medici, to whom the house of the medici in florence owes the origin of its fortunes, acquired so great a name from the favour wherewith his own prudence and the blindness of others invested him, that coming to be held in awe by the government, his fellow-citizens deemed it dangerous to offend him, but still more dangerous to let him alone. nicolò da uzzano, his cotemporary, who was accounted well versed in all civil affairs, but who had made a first mistake in not discerning the dangers which might grow from the rising influence of cosimo, would never while he lived, permit a second mistake to be made in attempting to crush him; judging that such an attempt would be the ruin of the state, as in truth it proved after his death. for some who survived him, disregarding his counsels, combined against cosimo and banished him from florence. and so it came about that the partisans of cosimo, angry at the wrong done him, soon afterwards recalled him and made him prince of the republic, a dignity he never would have reached but for this open opposition. the very same thing happened in rome in the case of cæsar. for his services having gained him the good-will of pompey and other citizens, their favour was presently turned to fear, as cicero testifies where he says that "it was late that pompey began to fear cæsar." this fear led men to think of remedies, and the remedies to which they resorted accelerated the destruction of the republic. i say, then, that since it is difficult to recognize these disorders in their beginning, because of the false impressions which things produce at the first, it is a wiser course when they become known, to temporize with them than to oppose them; for when you temporize, either they die out of themselves, or at any rate the injury they do is deferred. and the prince who would suppress such disorders or oppose himself to their force and onset, must always be on his guard, lest he help where he would hinder, retard when he would advance, and drown the plant he thinks to water. he must therefore study well the symptoms of the disease; and, if he believe himself equal to the cure, grapple with it fearlessly; if not, he must let it be, and not attempt to treat it in any way. for, otherwise, it will fare with him as it fared with those neighbours of rome, for whom it would have been safer, after that city had grown to be so great, to have sought to soothe and restrain her by peaceful arts, than to provoke her by open war to contrive new means of attack and new methods of defence. for this league had no other effect than to make the romans more united and resolute than before, and to bethink themselves of new expedients whereby their power was still more rapidly advanced; among which was the creation of a dictator; for this innovation not only enabled them to surmount the dangers which then threatened them, but was afterwards the means of escaping infinite calamities into which, without it, the republic must have fallen. chapter xxxiv.--_that the authority of the dictator did good and not harm to the roman republic: and that it is not those powers which are given by the free suffrages of the people, but those which ambitious citizens usurp for themselves, that are pernicious to a state._ those citizens who first devised a dictatorship for rome have been blamed by certain writers, as though this had been the cause of the tyranny afterwards established there. for these authors allege that the first tyrant of rome governed it with the title of dictator, and that, but for the existence of the office, cæsar could never have cloaked his usurpation under a constitutional name. he who first took up this opinion had not well considered the matter, and his conclusion has been accepted without good ground. for it was not the name nor office of dictator which brought rome to servitude, but the influence which certain of her citizens were able to assume from the prolongation of their term of power; so that even had the name of dictator been wanting in rome, some other had been found to serve their ends, since power may readily give titles, but not titles power. we find, accordingly, that while the dictatorship was conferred in conformity with public ordinances, and not through personal influence, it was constantly beneficial to the city. for it is the magistracies created and the powers usurped in unconstitutional ways that hurt a republic, not those which conform to ordinary rule; so that in rome, through the whole period of her history, we never find a dictator who acted otherwise than well for the republic. for which there were the plainest reasons. in the first place, to enable a citizen to work harm and to acquire undue authority, many circumstances must be present which never can be present in a state which is not corrupted. for such a citizen must be exceedingly rich, and must have many retainers and partisans, whom he cannot have where the laws are strictly observed, and who, if he had them, would occasion so much alarm, that the free suffrage of the people would seldom be in his favour. in the second place, the dictator was not created for life, but for a fixed term, and only to meet the emergency for which he was appointed. power was indeed given him to determine by himself what measures the exigency demanded; to do what he had to do without consultation; and to punish without appeal. but he had no authority to do anything to the prejudice of the state, as it would have been to deprive the senate or the people of their privileges, to subvert the ancient institutions of the city, or introduce new. so that taking into account the brief time for which his office lasted, its limited authority, and the circumstance that the roman people were still uncorrupted, it was impossible for him to overstep the just limits of his power so as to injure the city; and in fact we find that he was always useful to it. and, in truth, among the institutions of rome, this of the dictatorship deserves our special admiration, and to be linked with the chief causes of her greatness; for without some such safeguard a city can hardly pass unharmed through extraordinary dangers. because as the ordinary institutions of a commonwealth work but slowly, no council and no magistrate having authority to act in everything alone, but in most matters one standing in need of the other, and time being required to reconcile their differences, the remedies which they provide are most dangerous when they have to be applied in cases which do not brook delay. for which reason, every republic ought to have some resource of this nature provided by its constitution; as we find that the republic of venice, one of the best of those now existing, has in cases of urgent danger reserved authority to a few of her citizens, if agreed among themselves, to determine without further consultation what course is to be followed. when a republic is not provided with some safeguard such as this, either it must be ruined by observing constitutional forms, or else, to save it, these must be broken through. but in a republic nothing should be left to be effected by irregular methods, because, although for the time the irregularity may be useful, the example will nevertheless be pernicious, as giving rise to a practice of violating the laws for good ends, under colour of which they may afterwards be violated for ends which are not good. for which reason, that can never become a perfect republic wherein every contingency has not been foreseen and provided for by the laws, and the method of dealing with it defined. to sum up, therefore, i say that those republics which cannot in sudden emergencies resort either to a dictator or to some similar authority, will, when the danger is serious, always be undone. we may note, moreover, how prudently the romans, in introducing this new office, contrived the conditions under which it was to be exercised. for perceiving that the appointment of a dictator involved something of humiliation for the consuls, who, from being the heads of the state, were reduced to render obedience like every one else, and anticipating that this might give offence, they determined that the power to appoint should rest with the consuls, thinking that when the occasion came when rome should have need of this regal authority, they would have the consuls acting willingly and feeling the less aggrieved from the appointment being in their own hands. for those wounds or other injuries which a man inflicts upon himself by choice, and of his own free will, pain him far less than those inflicted by another. nevertheless, in the later days of the republic the romans were wont to entrust this power to a consul instead of to a dictator, using the formula, _videat_ consul _ne quid respublica detrimenti capiat_. but to return to the matter in hand, i say briefly, that when the neighbours of rome sought to crush her, they led her to take measures not merely for her readier defence, but such as enabled her to attack them with a stronger force, with better skill, and with an undivided command. chapter xxxv--_why the creation of the decemvirate in rome, although brought about by the free and open suffrage of the citizens, was hurtful to the liberties of that republic_ the fact of those ten citizens who were chosen by the roman people to make laws for rome, in time becoming her tyrants and depriving her of her freedom, may seem contrary to what i have said above, namely that it is the authority which is violently usurped, and not that conferred by the free suffrages of the people which is injurious to a republic. here, however, we have to take into account both the mode in which, and the term for which authority is given. where authority is unrestricted and is conferred for a long term, meaning by that for a year or more, it is always attended with danger, and its results will be good or bad according as the men are good or bad to whom it is committed. now when we compare the authority of the ten with that possessed by the dictator, we see that the power placed in the hands of the former was out of all proportion greater than that entrusted to the latter. for when a dictator was appointed there still remained the tribunes, the consuls, and the senate, all of them invested with authority of which the dictator could not deprive them. for even if he could have taken his consulship from one man, or his status as a senator from another, he could not abolish the senatorial rank nor pass new laws. so that the senate, the consuls, and the tribunes continuing to exist with undiminished authority were a check upon him and kept him in the right road. but on the creation of the ten, the opposite of all this took place. for on their appointment, consuls and tribunes were swept away, and express powers were given to the new magistrates to make laws and do whatever else they thought fit, with the entire authority of the whole roman people. so that finding themselves alone without consuls or tribunes to control them, and with no appeal against them to the people, and thus there being none to keep a watch upon them, and further being stimulated by the ambition of appius, in the second year of their office they began to wax insolent. let it be noted, therefore, that when it is said that authority given by the public vote is never hurtful to any commonwealth, it is assumed that the people will never be led to confer that authority without due limitations, or for other than a reasonable term. should they, however either from being deceived or otherwise blinded, be induced to bestow authority imprudently, as the romans bestowed it on the ten, it will always fare with them as with the romans. and this may readily be understood on reflecting what causes operated to keep the dictator good, what to make the ten bad, and by observing how those republics which have been accounted well governed, have acted when conferring authority for an extended period, as the spartans on their kings and the venetians on their doges; for it will be seen that in both these instances the authority was controlled by checks which made it impossible for it to be abused. but where an uncontrolled authority is given, no security is afforded by the circumstance that the body of the people is not corrupted; for in the briefest possible time absolute authority will make a people corrupt, and obtain for itself friends and partisans. nor will it be any hindrance to him in whom such authority is vested, that he is poor and without connections, for wealth and every other advantage will quickly follow, as shall be shown more fully when we discuss the appointment of the ten. chapter xxxvi.--_that citizens who have held the higher offices of a commonwealth should not disdain the lower_. under the consuls m. fabius and cn. manlius, the romans had a memorable victory in a battle fought with the veientines and the etruscans, in which q. fabius, brother of the consul, who had himself been consul the year before, was slain. this event may lead us to remark how well the methods followed by the city of rome were suited to increase her power, and how great a mistake is made by other republics in departing from them. for, eager as the romans were in the pursuit of glory, they never esteemed it a dishonour to obey one whom before they had commanded, or to find themselves serving in the ranks of an army which once they had led. this usage, however, is opposed to the ideas, the rules, and the practice which prevail at the present day, as, for instance, in venice, where the notion still obtains that a citizen who has filled a great office should be ashamed to accept a less; and where the state itself permits him to decline it. this course, assuming it to lend lustre to individual citizens, is plainly to the disadvantage of the community, which has reason to hope more from, and to trust more to, the citizen who descends from a high office to fill a lower, than him who rises from a low office to fill a high one; for in the latter no confidence can reasonably be placed, unless he be seen to have others about him of such credit and worth that it may be hoped their wise counsels and influence will correct his inexperience. but had the usage which prevails in venice and in other modern commonwealths and kingdoms, prevailed in rome whereby he who had once been consul was never afterwards to go with the army except as consul, numberless results must have followed detrimental to the free institutions of that city; as well from the mistakes which the inexperience of new men would have occasioned, as because from their ambition having a freer course, and from their having none near them in whose presence they might fear to do amiss, they would have grown less scrupulous; and in this way the public service must have suffered grave harm. chapter xxxvii.--_of the mischief bred in rome by the agrarian law: and how it is a great source of disorder in a commonwealth to pass a law opposed to ancient usage and with stringent retrospective effect._ it has been said by ancient writers that to be pinched by adversity or pampered by prosperity is the common lot of men, and that in whichever way they are acted upon the result is the same. for when no longer urged to war on one another by necessity, they are urged by ambition, which has such dominion in their hearts that it never leaves them to whatsoever heights they climb. for nature has so ordered it that while they desire everything, it is impossible for them to have everything, and thus their desires being always in excess of their capacity to gratify them, they remain constantly dissatisfied and discontented. and hence the vicissitudes in human affairs. for some seeking to enlarge their possessions, and some to keep what they have got, wars and enmities ensue, from which result the ruin of one country and the growth of another. i am led to these reflections from observing that the commons of rome were not content to secure themselves against the nobles by the creation of tribunes, a measure to which they were driven by necessity, but after effecting this, forthwith entered upon an ambitious contest with the nobles, seeking to share with them what all men most esteem, namely, their honours and their wealth. hence was bred that disorder from which sprang the feuds relating to the agrarian laws, and which led in the end to the downfall of the roman republic. and although it should be the object of every well-governed commonwealth to make the state rich and keep individual citizens poor it must be allowed that in the matter of this law the city of rome was to blame; whether for having passed it at first in such a shape as to require it to be continually recast; or for having postponed it so long that its retrospective effect was the occasion of tumult; or else, because, although rightly framed at first, it had come in its operation to be perverted. but in whatever way it happened, so it was, that this law was never spoken of in rome without the whole city being convulsed. the law itself embraced two principal provisions. by one it was enacted that no citizen should possess more than a fixed number of acres of land; by the other that all lands taken from the enemy should be distributed among the whole people. a twofold blow was thus aimed at the nobles; since all who possessed more land than the law allowed, as most of the nobles did, fell to be deprived of it; while by dividing the lands of the enemy among the whole people, the road to wealth was closed. these two grounds of offence being given to a powerful class, to whom it appeared that by resisting the law they did a service to the state, the whole city, as i have said, was thrown into an uproar on the mere mention of its name. the nobles indeed sought to temporize, and to prevail by patience and address; sometimes calling out the army, sometimes opposing another tribune to the one who was promoting the law, and sometimes coming to a compromise by sending a colony into the lands which were to be divided; as was done in the case of the territory of antium, whither, on a dispute concerning the law having arisen, settlers were sent from rome, and the land made over to them. in speaking of which colony titus livius makes the notable remark, that hardly any one in rome could be got to take part in it, so much readier were the commons to indulge in covetous schemes at home, than to realize them by leaving it. the ill humour engendered by this contest continued to prevail until the romans began to carry their arms into the remoter parts of italy and to countries beyond its shores; after which it seemed for a time to slumber--and this, because the lands held by the enemies of rome, out of sight of her citizens and too remote to be conveniently cultivated, came to be less desired. whereupon the romans grew less eager to punish their enemies by dividing their lands, and were content, when they deprived any city of its territory, to send colonists to occupy it. for causes such as these, the measure remained in abeyance down to the time of the gracchi; but being by them revived, finally overthrew the liberty of rome. for as it found the power of its adversaries doubled, such a flame of hatred was kindled between commons and senate, that, regardless of all civil restraints, they resorted to arms and bloodshed. and as the public magistrates were powerless to provide a remedy, each of the two factions having no longer any hopes from them, resolved to do what it could for itself, and to set up a chief for its own protection. on reaching this stage of tumult and disorder, the commons lent their influence to marius, making him four times consul; whose authority, lasting thus long, and with very brief intervals, became so firmly rooted that he was able to make himself consul other three times. against this scourge, the nobles, lacking other defence, set themselves to favour sylla, and placing him at the head of their faction, entered on the civil wars; wherein, after much blood had been spilt, and after many changes of fortune, they got the better of their adversaries. but afterwards, in the time of cæsar and pompey, the distemper broke out afresh; for cæsar heading the marian party, and pompey, that of sylla, and war ensuing, the victory remained with cæsar, who was the first tyrant in rome; after whose time that city was never again free. such, therefore, was the beginning and such the end of the agrarian law. but since it has elsewhere been said that the struggle between the commons and senate of rome preserved her liberties, as giving rise to laws favourable to freedom, it might seem that the consequences of the agrarian law are opposed to that view. i am not, however, led to alter my opinion on this account; for i maintain that the ambition of the great is so pernicious that unless controlled and counteracted in a variety of ways, it will always reduce a city to speedy ruin. so that if the controversy over the agrarian laws took three hundred years to bring rome to slavery, she would in all likelihood have been brought to slavery in a far shorter time, had not the commons, by means of this law, and by other demands, constantly restrained the ambition of the nobles. we may also learn from this contest how much more men value wealth than honours; for in the matter of honours, the roman nobles always gave way to the commons without any extraordinary resistance; but when it came to be a question of property, so stubborn were they in its defence, that the commons to effect their ends had to resort to those irregular methods which have been described above. of which irregularities the prime movers were the gracchi, whose motives are more to be commended than their measures; since to pass a law with stringent retrospective effect, in order to remove an abuse of long standing in a republic, is an unwise step, and one which, as i have already shown at length, can have no other result than to accelerate the mischief to which the abuse leads; whereas, if you temporize, either the abuse develops more slowly, or else, in course of time, and before it comes to a head, dies out of itself. chapter xxxviii.--_that weak republics are irresolute and undecided; and that the course they may take depends more on necessity than choice._ a terrible pestilence breaking out in rome seemed to the equians and volscians to offer a fit opportunity for crushing her. the two nations, therefore, assembling a great army, attacked the latins and hernicians and laid waste their country. whereupon the latins and hernicians were forced to make their case known to the romans, and to ask to be defended by them. the romans, who were sorely afflicted by the pestilence, answered that they must look to their own defence, and with their own forces, since rome was in no position to succour them. here we recognize the prudence and magnanimity of the roman senate, and how at all times, and in all changes of fortune, they assumed the responsibility of determining the course their country should take; and were not ashamed, when necessary, to decide on a course contrary to that which was usual with them, or which they had decided to follow on some other occasion. i say this because on other occasions this same senate had forbidden these nations to defend themselves; and a less prudent assembly might have thought it lowered their credit to withdraw that prohibition. but the roman senate always took a sound view of things, and always accepted the least hurtful course as the best. so that, although it was distasteful to them not to be able to defend their subjects, and equally distasteful--both for the reasons given, and for others which may be understood--that their subjects should take up arms in their absence, nevertheless knowing that these must have recourse to arms in any case, since the enemy was upon them, they took an honourable course in deciding that what had to be done should be done with their leave, lest men driven to disobey by necessity should come afterwards to disobey from choice. and although this may seem the course which every republic ought reasonably to follow, nevertheless weak and badly-advised republics cannot make up their minds to follow it, not knowing how to do themselves honour in like extremities. after duke valentino had taken faenza and forced bologna to yield to his terms, desiring to return to rome through tuscany, he sent one of his people to florence to ask leave for himself and his army to pass. a council was held in florence to consider how this request should be dealt with, but no one was favourable to the leave asked for being granted. wherein the roman method was not followed. for as the duke had a very strong force with him, while the florentines were so bare of troops that they could not have prevented his passage, it would have been far more for their credit that he should seem to pass with their consent, than that he should pass in spite of them; because, while discredit had to be incurred either way, they would have incurred less by acceding to his demand. but of all courses the worst for a weak state is to be irresolute; for then whatever it does will seem to be done under compulsion, so that if by chance it should do anything well, this will be set down to necessity and not to prudence. of this i shall cite two other instances happening in our own times, and in our own country. in the year , king louis of france, after recovering milan, being desirous to restore pisa to the florentines, so as to obtain payment from them of the fifty thousand ducats which they had promised him on the restitution being completed, sent troops to pisa under m. beaumont, in whom, though a frenchman, the florentines put much trust. beaumont accordingly took up his position with his forces between cascina and pisa, to be in readiness to attack the town. after he had been there for some days making arrangements for the assault, envoys came to him from pisa offering to surrender their city to the french if a promise were given in the king's name, not to hand it over to the florentines until four months had run. this condition was absolutely rejected by the florentines, and the siege being proceeded with, they were forced to retire with disgrace. now the proposal of the pisans was rejected by the florentines for no other reason than that they distrusted the good faith of the king, into whose hands their weakness obliged them to commit themselves, and did not reflect how much more it was for their interest that, by obtaining entrance into pisa, he should have it in his power to restore the town to them, or, failing to restore it, should at once disclose his designs, than that remaining outside he should put them off with promises for which they had to pay. it would therefore have been a far better course for the florentines to have agreed to beaumont taking possession on whatever terms. this was seen afterwards by experience in the year , when, on the revolt of arezzo, m. imbalt was sent by the king of france with french troops to assist the florentines. for when he got near arezzo, and began to negotiate with the aretines, who, like the pisans, were willing to surrender their town on terms, the acceptance of these terms was strongly disapproved in florence; which imbalt learning, and thinking that the florentines were acting with little sense, he took the entire settlement of conditions into his own hands, and, without consulting the florentine commissioners, concluded an arrangement to his own satisfaction, in execution of which he entered arezzo with his army. and he let the florentines know that he thought them fools and ignorant of the ways of the world; since if they desired to have arezzo, they could signify their wishes to the king, who would be much better able to give it them when he had his soldiers inside, than when he had them outside the town. nevertheless, in florence they never ceased to blame and abuse m. imbalt, until at last they came to see that if beaumont had acted in the same way, they would have got possession of pisa as well as of arezzo. applying what has been said to the matter in hand, we find that irresolute republics, unless upon compulsion, never follow wise courses; for wherever there is room for doubt, their weakness will not suffer them to come to any resolve; so that unless their doubts be overcome by some superior force which impels them forward, they remain always in suspense. chapter xxxix.--_that often the same accidents are seen to befall different nations._ any one comparing the present with the past will soon perceive that in all cities and in all nations there prevail the same desires and passions as always have prevailed; for which reason it should be an easy matter for him who carefully examines past events, to foresee those which are about to happen in any republic, and to apply such remedies as the ancients have used in like cases; or finding none which have been used by them, to strike out new ones, such as they might have used in similar circumstances. but these lessons being neglected or not understood by readers, or, if understood by them, being unknown to rulers, it follows that the same disorders are common to all times. in the year the republic of florence, having lost a portion of its territories, including pisa and other towns, was forced to make war against those who had taken possession of them, who being powerful, it followed that great sums were spent on these wars to little purpose. this large expenditure had to be met by heavy taxes which gave occasion to numberless complaints on the part of the people; and inasmuch as the war was conducted by a council of ten citizens, who were styled "the ten of the war," the multitude began to regard these with displeasure, as though they were the cause of the war and of the consequent expenditure; and at last persuaded themselves that if they got rid of this magistracy there would be an end to the war. wherefore when the magistracy of "the ten" should have been renewed, the people did not renew it, but, suffering it to lapse, entrusted their affairs to the "signory." this course was most pernicious, since not only did it fail to put an end to the war, as the people expected it would, but by setting aside men who had conducted it with prudence, led to such mishaps that not pisa only, but arezzo also, and many other towns besides were lost to florence. whereupon, the people recognizing their mistake, and that the evil was in the disease and not in the physician, reinstated the magistracy of the ten. similar dissatisfaction grew up in rome against the consular authority. for the people seeing one war follow another, and that they were never allowed to rest, when they should have ascribed this to the ambition of neighbouring nations who desired their overthrow, ascribed it to the ambition of the nobles, who, as they believed, being unable to wreak their hatred against them within the city, where they were protected by the power of the tribunes, sought to lead them outside the city, where they were under the authority of the consuls, that they might crush them where they were without help. in which belief they thought it necessary either to get rid of the consuls altogether, or so to restrict their powers as to leave them no authority over the people, either in the city or out of it. the first who attempted to pass a law to this effect was the tribune terentillus, who proposed that a committee of five should be named to consider and regulate the power of the consuls. this roused the anger of the nobles, to whom it seemed that the greatness of their authority was about to set for ever, and that no part would be left them in the administration of the republic. such, however, was the obstinacy of the tribunes, that they succeeded in abolishing the consular title, nor were satisfied until, after other changes, it was resolved that, in room of consuls, tribunes should be appointed with consular powers; so much greater was their hatred of the name than of the thing. for a long time matters remained on this footing; till eventually, the commons, discovering their mistake, resumed the appointment of consuls in the same way as the florentines reverted to "the ten of the war." chapter xl.--_of the creation of the decemvirate in rome, and what therein is to be noted. wherein among other matters is shown how the same causes may lead to the safety or to the ruin of a commonwealth._ it being my desire to treat fully of those disorders which arose in rome on the creation of the decemvirate, i think it not amiss first of all to relate what took place at the time of that creation, and then to discuss those circumstances attending it which seem most to deserve notice. these are numerous, and should be well considered, both by those who would maintain the liberties of a commonwealth and by those who would subvert them. for in the course of our inquiry it will be seen that many mistakes prejudicial to freedom were made by the senate and people, and that many were likewise made by appius, the chief decemvir, prejudicial to that tyranny which it was his aim to establish in rome. after much controversy and wrangling between the commons and the nobles as to the framing of new laws by which the freedom of rome might be better secured, spurius posthumius and two other citizens were, by general consent, despatched to athens to procure copies of the laws which solon had drawn up for the athenians, to the end that these might serve as a groundwork for the laws of rome. on their return, the next step was to depute certain persons to examine these laws and to draft the new code. for which purpose a commission consisting of ten members, among whom was appius claudius, a crafty and ambitious citizen, was appointed for a year; and that the commissioners in framing their laws might act without fear or favour, all the other magistracies, and in particular the consulate and tribuneship, were suspended, and the appeal to the people discontinued; so that the decemvirs came to be absolute in rome. very soon the whole authority of the commissioners came to be centred in appius, owing to the favour in which he was held by the commons. for although before he had been regarded as the cruel persecutor of the people, he now showed himself so conciliatory in his bearing that men wondered at the sudden change in his character and disposition. this set of commissioners, then, behaved discreetly, being attended by no more than twelve lictors, walking in front of that decemvir whom the rest put forward as their chief; and though vested with absolute authority, yet when a roman citizen had to be tried for murder, they cited him before the people and caused him to be judged by them. their laws they wrote upon ten tables, but before signing them they exposed them publicly, that every one might read and consider them, and if any defect were discovered in them, it might be corrected before they were finally passed. at this juncture appius caused it to be notified throughout the city that were two other tables added to these ten, the laws would be complete; hoping that under this belief the people would consent to continue the decemvirate for another year. this consent the people willingly gave, partly to prevent the consuls being reinstated, and partly because they thought they could hold their ground without the aid of the tribunes, who, as has already been said, were the judges in criminal cases. on it being resolved to reappoint the decemvirate, all the nobles set to canvass for the office, appius among the foremost; and such cordiality did he display towards the commons while seeking their votes, that the other candidates, "_unable to persuade themselves that so much affability on the part of so proud a man was wholly disinterested,_" began to suspect him; but fearing to oppose him openly, sought to circumvent him, by putting him forward, though the youngest of them all, to declare to the people the names of the proposed decemvirs; thinking that he would not venture to name himself, that being an unusual course in rome, and held discreditable. "_but what they meant as a hindrance, he turned to account,_" by proposing, to the surprise and displeasure of the whole nobility, his own name first, and then nominating nine others on whose support he thought he could depend. the new appointments, which were to last for a year, having been made, appius soon let both commons and nobles know the mistake they had committed, for throwing off the mask, he allowed his innate arrogance to appear, and speedily infected his colleagues with the same spirit; who, to overawe the people and the senate, instead of twelve lictors, appointed one hundred and twenty. for a time their measures were directed against high and low alike; but presently they began to intrigue with the senate, and to attack the commons; and if any of the latter, on being harshly used by one decemvir, ventured to appeal to another, he was worse handled on the appeal than in the first instance. the commons, on discovering their error, began in their despair to turn their eyes towards the nobles, "_and to look for a breeze of freedom from that very quarter whence fearing slavery they had brought the republic to its present straits._" to the nobles the sufferings of the commons were not displeasing, from the hope "_that disgusted with the existing state of affairs, they too might come to desire the restoration of the consuls._" when the year for which the decemvirs were appointed at last came to an end, the two additional tables of the law were ready, but had not yet been published. this was made a pretext by them for prolonging their magistracy, which they took measures to retain by force, gathering round them for this purpose a retinue of young noblemen, whom they enriched with the goods of those citizens whom they had condemned. "_corrupted by which gifts, these youths came to prefer selfish licence to public freedom._" it happened that at this time the sabines and volscians began to stir up a war against rome, and it was during the alarm thereby occasioned that the decemvirs were first made aware how weak was their position. for without the senate they could take no warlike measures, while by assembling the senate they seemed to put an end to their own authority. nevertheless, being driven to it by necessity, they took this latter course. when the senate met, many of the senators, but particularly valerius and horatius, inveighed against the insolence of the decemvirs, whose power would forthwith have been cut short, had not the senate through jealousy of the commons declined to exercise their authority. for they thought that were the decemvirs to lay down office of their own free will, tribunes might not be reappointed. wherefore they decided for war, and sent forth the armies under command of certain of the decemvirs. but appius remaining behind to govern the city, it so fell out that he became enamoured of virginia, and that when he sought to lay violent hands upon her, virginius, her father, to save her from dishonour, slew her. thereupon followed tumults in rome, and mutiny among the soldiers, who, making common cause with the rest of the plebeians, betook themselves to the sacred hill, and there remained until the decemvirs laid down their office; when tribunes and consuls being once more appointed, rome was restored to her ancient freedom. in these events we note, first of all, that the pernicious step of creating this tyranny in rome was due to the same causes which commonly give rise to tyrannies in cities; namely, the excessive love of the people for liberty, and the passionate eagerness of the nobles to govern. for when they cannot agree to pass some measure favourable to freedom, one faction or the other sets itself to support some one man, and a tyranny at once springs up. both parties in rome consented to the creation of the decemvirs, and to their exercising unrestricted powers, from the desire which the one had to put an end to the consular name, and the other to abolish the authority of the tribunes. when, on the appointment of the decemvirate, it seemed to the commons that appius had become favourable to their cause, and was ready to attack the nobles, they inclined to support him. but when a people is led to commit this error of lending its support to some one man, in order that he may attack those whom it holds in hatred, if he only be prudent he will inevitably become the tyrant of that city. for he will wait until, with the support of the people, he can deal a fatal blow to the nobles, and will never set himself to oppress the people until the nobles have been rooted out. but when that time comes, the people, although they recognize their servitude, will have none to whom they can turn for help. had this method, which has been followed by all who have successfully established tyrannies in republics, been followed by appius, his power would have been more stable and lasting; whereas, taking the directly opposite course, he could not have acted more unwisely than he did. for in his eagerness to grasp the tyranny, he made himself obnoxious to those who were in fact conferring it, and who could have maintained him in it; and he destroyed those who were his friends, while he sought friendship from those from whom he could not have it. for although it be the desire of the nobles to tyrannize, that section of them which finds itself outside the tyranny is always hostile to the tyrant, who can never succeed in gaining over the entire body of the nobles by reason of their greed and ambition; for no tyrant can ever have honours or wealth enough to satisfy them all. in abandoning the people, therefore, and siding with the nobles, appius committed a manifest mistake, as well for the reasons above given, as because to hold a thing by force, he who uses force must needs be stronger than he against whom it is used. whence it happens that those tyrants who have the mass of the people for their friends and the nobles for their enemies, are more secure than those who have the people for their enemies and the nobles for their friends; because in the former case their authority has the stronger support. for with such support a ruler can maintain himself by the internal strength of his state, as did nabis, tyrant of sparta, when attacked by the romans and by the whole of greece; for making sure work with the nobles, who were few in number, and having the people on his side, he was able with their assistance to defend himself; which he could not have done had they been against him. but in the case of a city, wherein the tyrant has few friends, its internal strength will not avail him for its defence, and he will have to seek aid from without in one of three shapes. for either he must hire foreign guards to defend his person; or he must arm the peasantry, so that they may play the part which ought to be played by the citizens; or he must league with powerful neighbours for his defence. he who follows these methods and observes them well, may contrive to save himself, though he has the people for his enemy. but appius could not follow the plan of gaining over the peasantry, since in rome they and the people were one. and what he might have done he knew not how to do, and so was ruined at the very outset. in creating the decemvirate, therefore, both the senate and the people made grave mistakes. for although, as already explained, when speaking of the dictatorship, it is those magistrates who make themselves, and not those made by the votes of the people, that are hurtful to freedom; nevertheless the people, in creating magistrates ought to take such precautions as will make it difficult for these to become bad. but the romans when they ought to have set a check on the decemvirs in order to keep them good, dispensed with it, making them the sole magistrates of rome, and setting aside all others; and this from the excessive desire of the senate to get rid of the tribunes, and of the commons to get rid of the consuls; by which objects both were so blinded as to fall into all the disorders which ensued. for, as king ferrando was wont to say, men often behave like certain of the smaller birds, which are so intent on the prey to which nature incites them, that they discern not the eagle hovering overhead for their destruction. in this discourse then the mistakes made by the roman people in their efforts to preserve their freedom and the mistakes made by appius in his endeavour to obtain the tyranny, have, as i proposed at the outset, been plainly shown. chapter xli.--_that it is unwise to pass at a bound from leniency to severity, or to a haughty bearing from a humble._ among the crafty devices used by appius to aid him in maintaining his authority, this, of suddenly passing from one character to the other extreme, was of no small prejudice to him. for his fraud in pretending to the commons to be well disposed towards them, was happily contrived; as were also the means he took to bring about the reappointment of the decemvirate. most skilful, too, was his audacity in nominating himself contrary to the expectation of the nobles, and in proposing colleagues on whom he could depend to carry out his ends. but, as i have said already, it was not happily contrived that, after doing all this, he should suddenly turn round, and from being the friend, reveal himself the enemy of the people; haughty instead of humane; cruel instead of kindly; and make this change so rapidly as to leave himself no shadow of excuse, but compel all to recognize the doubleness of his nature. for he who has once seemed good, should he afterwards choose, for his own ends, to become bad, ought to change by slow degrees, and as opportunity serves; so that before his altered nature strip him of old favour, he may have gained for himself an equal share of new, and thus his influence suffer no diminution. for otherwise, being at once unmasked and friendless, he is undone: chapter xlii.--_how easily men become corrupted._ in this matter of the decemvirate we may likewise note the ease wherewith men become corrupted, and how completely, although born good and well brought up, they change their nature. for we see how favourably disposed the youths whom appius gathered round him became towards his tyranny, in return for the trifling benefits which they drew from it; and how quintus fabius, one of the second decemvirate and a most worthy man, blinded by a little ambition, and misled by the evil counsels of appius, abandoning his fair fame, betook himself to most unworthy courses, and grew like his master. careful consideration of this should make those who frame laws for commonwealths and kingdoms more alive to the necessity of placing restraints on men's evil appetites, and depriving them of all hope of doing wrong with impunity. chapter xliii.--_that men fighting in their own cause make good and resolute soldiers._ from what has been touched upon above, we are also led to remark how wide is the difference between an army which, having no ground for discontent, fights in its own cause, and one which, being discontented, fights to satisfy the ambition of others. for whereas the romans were always victorious under the consuls, under the decemvirs they were always defeated. this helps us to understand why it is that mercenary troops are worthless; namely, that they have no incitement to keep them true to you beyond the pittance which you pay them, which neither is nor can be a sufficient motive for such fidelity and devotion as would make them willing to die in your behalf. but in those armies in which there exists not such an attachment towards him for whom they fight as makes them devoted to his cause, there never will be valour enough to withstand an enemy if only he be a little brave. and since such attachment and devotion cannot be looked for from any save your own subjects, you must, if you would preserve your dominions, or maintain your commonwealth or kingdom, arm the natives of your country; as we see to have been done by all those who have achieved great things in war. under the decemvirs the ancient valour of the roman soldiers had in no degree abated; yet, because they were no longer animated by the same good will, they did not exert themselves as they were wont. but so soon as the decemvirate came to an end, and the soldiers began once more to fight as free men, the old spirit was reawakened, and, as a consequence, their enterprises, according to former usage, were brought to a successful close. chapter xliv.--_that the multitude is helpless without a head: and that we should not with the same breath threaten and ask leave._ when virginia died by her father's hand, the commons of rome withdrew under arms to the sacred hill. whereupon the senate sent messengers to demand by what sanction they had deserted their commanders and assembled there in arms. and in such reverence was the authority of the senate held, that the commons, lacking leaders, durst make no reply. "not," says titus livius, "that they were at a loss what to answer, but because they had none to answer for them;" words which clearly show how helpless a thing is the multitude when without a head. this defect was perceived by virginius, at whose instance twenty military tribunes were appointed by the commons to be their spokesmen with the senate, and to negotiate terms; who, having asked that valerius and horatius might be sent to them, to whom their wishes would be made known, these declined to go until the decemvirs had laid down their office. when this was done, and valerius and horatius came to the hill where the commons were assembled, the latter demanded that tribunes of the people should be appointed; that in future there should be an appeal to the people from the magistrates of whatever degree; and that all the decemvirs should be given up to them to be burned alive. valerius and horatius approved the first two demands, but rejected the last as inhuman; telling the commons that "they were rushing into that very cruelty which they themselves had condemned in others;" and counselling them to say nothing about the decemvirs, but to be satisfied to regain their own power and authority; since thus the way would be open to them for obtaining every redress. here we see plainly how foolish and unwise it is to ask a thing and with the same breath to say, "i desire this that i may inflict an injury." for we should never declare our intention beforehand, but watch for every opportunity to carry it out. so that it is enough to ask another for his weapons, without adding, "with these i purpose to destroy you;" for when once you have secured his weapons, you can use them afterwards as you please. chapter xlv.--_that it is of evil example, especially in the maker of a law, not to observe the law when made: and that daily to renew acts of injustice in a city is most hurtful to the governor._ terms having been adjusted, and the old order of things restored in rome, virginius cited appius to defend himself before the people; and on his appearing attended by many of the nobles, ordered him to be led to prison. whereupon appius began to cry out and appeal to the people. but virginius told him that he was unworthy to be allowed that appeal which he had himself done away with, or to have that people whom he had wronged for his protectors. appius rejoined, that the people should not set at nought that right of appeal which they themselves had insisted on with so much zeal. nevertheless, he was dragged to prison, and before the day of trial slew himself. now, though the wicked life of appius merited every punishment, still it was impolitic to violate the laws, more particularly a law which had only just been passed; for nothing, i think, is of worse example in a republic, than to make a law and not to keep it; and most of all, when he who breaks is he that made it. after the year , the city of florence reformed its government with the help of the friar girolamo savonarola, whose writings declare his learning, his wisdom, and the excellence of his heart. among other ordinances for the safety of the citizens, he caused a law to be passed, allowing an appeal to the people from the sentences pronounced by "the eight" and by the "signory" in trials for state offences; a law he had long contended for, and carried at last with great difficulty. it so happened that a very short time after it was passed, five citizens were condemned to death by the "signory" for state offences, and that when they sought to appeal to the people they were not permitted to do so, and the law was violated. this, more than any other mischance, helped to lessen the credit of the friar; since if his law of appeal was salutary, he should have caused it to be observed; if useless, he ought not to have promoted it. and his inconsistency was the more remarked, because in all the sermons which he preached after the law was broken, he never either blamed or excused the person who had broken it, as though unwilling to condemn, while unable to justify what suited his purposes. this, as betraying the ambitious and partial turn of his mind, took from his reputation and exposed him to much obloquy. another thing which greatly hurts a government is to keep alive bitter feelings in men's minds by often renewed attacks on individuals, as was done in rome after the decemvirate was put an end to. for each of the decemvirs, and other citizens besides, were at different times accused and condemned, so that the greatest alarm was spread through the whole body of the nobles, who came to believe that these prosecutions would never cease until their entire order was exterminated. and this must have led to grave mischief had not marcus duilius the tribune provided against it, by an edict which forbade every one, for the period of a year, citing or accusing any roman citizen, an ordinance which had the effect of reassuring the whole nobility. here we see how hurtful it is for a prince or commonwealth to keep the minds of their subjects in constant alarm and suspense by continually renewed punishments and violence. and, in truth, no course can be more pernicious. for men who are in fear for their safety will seize on every opportunity for securing themselves against the dangers which surround them, and will grow at once more daring, and less scrupulous in resorting to new courses. for these reasons we should either altogether avoid inflicting injury, or should inflict every injury at a stroke, and then seek to reassure men's minds and suffer them to settle down and rest. chapter xlvi.--_that men climb from one step of ambition to another, seeking at first to escape injury and then to injure others._ as the commons of rome on recovering their freedom were restored to their former position--nay, to one still stronger since many new laws had been passed which confirmed and extended their authority,--it might reasonably have been hoped that rome would for a time remain at rest. the event, however, showed the contrary, for from day to day there arose in that city new tumults and fresh dissensions. and since the causes which brought this about have been most judiciously set forth by titus livius, it seems to me much to the purpose to cite his own words when he says, that "whenever either the commons or the nobles were humble, the others grew haughty; so that if the commons kept within due bounds, the young nobles began to inflict injuries upon them, against which the tribunes, who were themselves made the objects of outrage, were little able to give redress; while the nobles on their part, although they could not close their eyes to the ill behaviour of their young men, were yet well pleased that if excesses were to be committed, they should be committed by their own faction, and not by the commons. thus the desire to secure its own liberty prompted each faction to make itself strong enough to oppress the other. for this is the common course of things, that in seeking to escape cause for fear, men come to give others cause to be afraid by inflicting on them those wrongs from which they strive to relieve themselves; as though the choice lay between injuring and being injured." herein, among other things, we perceive in what ways commonwealths are overthrown, and how men climb from one ambition to another; and recognize the truth of those words which sallust puts in the mouth of cæsar, that "_all ill actions have their origin in fair beginnings._" [ ] for, as i have said already, the ambitious citizen in a commonwealth seeks at the outset to secure himself against injury, not only at the hands of private persons, but also of the magistrates; to effect which he endeavours to gain himself friends. these he obtains by means honourable in appearance, either by supplying them with money or protecting them against the powerful. and because such conduct seems praiseworthy, every one is readily deceived by it, and consequently no remedy is applied. pursuing these methods without hindrance, this man presently comes to be so powerful that private citizens begin to fear him, and the magistrates to treat him with respect. but when he has advanced thus far on the road to power without encountering opposition, he has reached a point at which it is most dangerous to cope with him; it being dangerous, as i have before explained, to contend with a disorder which has already made progress in a city. nevertheless, when he has brought things to this pass, you must either endeavour to crush him, at the risk of immediate ruin, or else, unless death or some like accident interpose, you incur inevitable slavery by letting him alone. for when, as i have said, it has come to this that the citizens and even the magistrates fear to offend him and his friends, little further effort will afterwards be needed to enable him to proscribe and ruin whom he pleases. a republic ought, therefore, to provide by its ordinances that none of its citizens shall, under colour of doing good, have it in their power to do evil, but shall be suffered to acquire such influence only as may aid and not injure freedom. how this may be done, shall presently be explained. [footnote : quod omnia mala exempla ex bonis initiis orta sunt. (sall. cat. .)] chapter xlvii.--_that though men deceive themselves in generalities, in particulars they judge truly._ the commons of rome having, as i have said, grown disgusted with the consular name, and desiring either that men of plebeian birth should be admitted to the office or its authority be restricted, the nobles, to prevent its degradation in either of these two ways, proposed a middle course, whereby four tribunes, who might either be plebeians or nobles, were to be created with consular authority. this compromise satisfied the commons, who thought they would thus get rid of the consulship, and secure the highest offices of the state for their own order. but here a circumstance happened worth noting. when the four tribunes came to be chosen, the people, who had it in their power to choose all from the commons, chose all from the nobles. with respect to which election titus livius observes, that "_the result showed that the people when declaring their honest judgment after controversy was over, were governed by a different spirit from that which had inspired them while contending for their liberties and for a share in public honours_." the reason for this i believe to be, that men deceive themselves more readily in generals than in particulars. to the commons of rome it seemed, in the abstract, that they had every right to be admitted to the consulship, since their party in the city was the more numerous, since they bore the greater share of danger in their wars, and since it was they who by their valour kept rome free and made her powerful. and because it appeared to them, as i have said, that their desire was a reasonable one, they were resolved to satisfy it at all hazards. but when they had to form a particular judgment on the men of their own party, they recognized their defects, and decided that individually no one of them was deserving of what, collectively, they seemed entitled to; and being ashamed of them, turned to bestow their honours on those who deserved them. of which decision titus livius, speaking with due admiration, says, "_where shall we now find in any one man, that modesty, moderation, and magnanimity which were then common to the entire people?_" as confirming what i have said, i shall cite another noteworthy incident, which occurred in capua after the rout of the romans by hannibal at cannæ. for all italy being convulsed by that defeat, capua too was threatened with civil tumult, through the hatred which prevailed between her people and senate. but pacuvius calavius, who at this time filled the office of chief magistrate, perceiving the danger, took upon himself to reconcile the contending factions. with this object he assembled the senate and pointed out to them the hatred in which they were held by the people, and the risk they ran of being put to death by them, and of the city, now that the romans were in distress, being given up to hannibal. but he added that, were they to consent to leave the matter with him, he thought he could contrive to reconcile them; in the meanwhile, however, he must shut them up in the palace, that, by putting it in the power of the people to punish them, he might secure their safety. the senate consenting to this proposal, he shut them up in the palace, and summoning the people to a public meeting, told them the time had at last come for them to trample on the insolence of the nobles, and requite the wrongs suffered at their hands; for he had them all safe under bolt and bar; but, as he supposed they did not wish the city to remain without rulers, it was fit, before putting the old senators to death, they should appoint others in their room. wherefore he had thrown the names of all the old senators into a bag, and would now proceed to draw them out one by one, and as they were drawn would cause them to be put to death, so soon as a successor was found for each. when the first name he drew was declared, there arose a great uproar among the people, all crying out against the cruelty, pride, and arrogance of that senator whose name it was. but on pacuvius desiring them to propose a substitute, the meeting was quieted, and after a brief pause one of the commons was nominated. no sooner, however, was his name mentioned than one began to whistle, another to laugh, some jeering at him in one way and some in another. and the same thing happening in every case, each and all of those nominated were judged unworthy of senatorial rank. whereupon pacuvius, profiting by the opportunity, said, "since you are agreed that the city would be badly off without a senate, but are not agreed whom to appoint in the room of the old senators, it will, perhaps, be well for you to be reconciled to them; for the fear into which they have been thrown must have so subdued them, that you are sure to find in them that affability which hitherto you have looked for in vain." this proposal being agreed to, a reconciliation followed between the two orders; the commons having seen their error so soon as they were obliged to come to particulars. a people therefore is apt to err in judging of things and their accidents in the abstract, but on becoming acquainted with particulars, speedily discovers its mistakes. in the year , when her greatest citizens were banished from florence, and no regular government any longer existed there, but a spirit of licence prevailed, and matters went continually from bad to worse, many florentines perceiving the decay of their city, and discerning no other cause for it, blamed the ambition of this or the other powerful citizen, who, they thought, was fomenting these disorders with a view to establish a government to his own liking, and to rob them of their liberties. those who thought thus, would hang about the arcades and public squares, maligning many citizens, and giving it to be understood that if ever they found themselves in the signory, they would expose the designs of these citizens and have them punished. from time to time it happened that one or another of those who used this language rose to be of the chief magistracy, and so soon as he obtained this advancement, and saw things nearer, became aware whence the disorders i have spoken of really came, the dangers attending them, and the difficulty in dealing with them; and recognizing that they were the growth of the times, and not occasioned by particular men, suddenly altered his views and conduct; a nearer knowledge of facts freeing him from the false impressions he had been led into on a general view of affairs. but those who had heard him speak as a private citizen, when they saw him remain inactive after he was made a magistrate, believed that this arose not from his having obtained any better knowledge of things, but from his having been cajoled or corrupted by the great. and this happening with many men and often, it came to be a proverb among the people, that "_men had one mind in the market-place, another in the palace._" reflecting on what has been said, we see how quickly men's eyes may be opened, if knowing that they deceive themselves in generalities, we can find a way to make them pass to particulars; as pacuvius did in the case of the capuans, and the senate in the case of rome. nor do i believe that any prudent man need shrink from the judgment of the people in questions relating to particulars, as, for instance, in the distribution of honours and dignities. for in such matters only, the people are either never mistaken, or at any rate far seldomer than a small number of persons would be, were the distribution entrusted to them. it seems to me, however, not out of place to notice in the following chapter, a method employed by the roman senate to enlighten the people in making this distribution. chapter xlviii.--_he who would not have an office bestowed on some worthless or wicked person, should contrive that it be solicited by one who is utterly worthless and wicked, or else by one who is in the highest degree noble and good._ whenever the senate saw a likelihood of the tribunes with consular powers being chosen exclusively from the commons, it took one or other of two ways,--either by causing the office to be solicited by the most distinguished among the citizens; or else, to confess the truth, by bribing some base and ignoble fellow to fasten himself on to those other plebeians of better quality who were seeking the office, and become a candidate conjointly with them. the latter device made the people ashamed to give, the former ashamed to refuse. this confirms what i said in my last chapter, as to the people deceiving themselves in generalities but not in particulars. chapter xlix.--_that if cities which, like rome, had their beginning in freedom, have had difficulty in framing such laws as would preserve their freedom, cities which at the first have been in subjection will find this almost impossible._ how hard it is in founding a commonwealth to provide it with all the laws needed to maintain its freedom, is well seen from the history of the roman republic. for although ordinances were given it first by romulus, then by numa, afterwards by tullus hostilius and servius, and lastly by the ten created for the express purpose, nevertheless, in the actual government of rome new needs were continually developed, to meet which, new ordinances had constantly to be devised; as in the creation of the censors, who were one of the chief means by which rome was kept free during the whole period of her constitutional government. for as the censors became the arbiters of morals in rome, it was very much owing to them that the progress of the romans towards corruption was retarded. and though, at the first creation of the office, a mistake was doubtless made in fixing its term at five years, this was corrected not long after by the wisdom of the dictator mamercus, who passed a law reducing it to eighteen months; a change which the censors then in office took in such ill part, that they deprived mamercus of his rank as a senator. this step was much blamed both by the commons and the fathers; still, as our history does not record that mamercus obtained any redress, we must infer either that the historian has omitted something, or that on this head the laws of rome were defective; since it is never well that the laws of a commonwealth should suffer a citizen to incur irremediable wrong because he promotes a measure favourable to freedom. but returning to the matter under consideration, we have, in connection with the creation of this new office, to note, that if those cities which, as was the case with rome, have had their beginning in freedom, and have by themselves maintained that freedom, have experienced great difficulty in framing good laws for the preservation of their liberties, it is little to be wondered at that cities which at the first were dependent, should find it not difficult merely but impossible so to shape their ordinances as to enable them to live free and undisturbed. this difficulty we see to have arisen in the case of florence, which, being subject at first to the power of rome and subsequently to that of other rulers, remained long in servitude, taking no thought for herself; and even afterwards, when she could breathe more freely and began to frame her own laws, these, since they were blended with ancient ordinances which were bad, could not themselves be good; and thus for the two hundred years of which we have trustworthy record, our city has gone on patching her institutions, without ever possessing a government in respect of which she could truly be termed a commonwealth. the difficulties which have been felt in florence are the same as have been felt in all cities which have had a like origin; and although, repeatedly, by the free and public votes of her citizens, ample authority has been given to a few of their number to reform her constitution, no alteration of general utility has ever been introduced, but only such as forwarded the interests of the party to which those commissioned to make changes belonged. this, instead of order, has occasioned the greatest disorder in our city. but to come to particulars, i say, that among other matters which have to be considered by the founder of a commonwealth, is the question into whose hands should be committed the power of life and death over its citizens' this was well seen to in rome, where, as a rule, there was a right of appeal to the people, but where, on any urgent case arising in which it might have been dangerous to delay the execution of a judicial sentence, recourse could be had to a dictator with powers to execute justice at once; a remedy, however, never resorted to save in cases of extremity. but florence, and other cities having a like origin, committed this power into the hands of a foreigner, whom they styled captain, and as he was open to be corrupted by powerful citizens this was a pernicious course. altering this arrangement afterwards in consequence of changes in their government, they appointed eight citizens to discharge the office of captain. but this, for a reason already mentioned, namely that a few will always be governed by the will of a few and these the most powerful, was a change from bad to worse. the city of venice has guarded herself against a like danger. for in venice ten citizens are appointed with power to punish any man without appeal; and because, although possessing the requisite authority, this number might not be sufficient to insure the punishment of the powerful, in addition to their council of ten, they have also constituted a council of forty, and have further provided that the council of the "_pregai_," which is their supreme council, shall have authority to chastise powerful offenders. so that, unless an accuser be wanting, a tribunal is never wanting in venice to keep powerful citizens in check. but when we see how in rome, with ordinances of her own imposing, and with so many and so wise legislators, fresh occasion arose from day to day for framing new laws favourable to freedom, it is not to be wondered at that, in other cities less happy in their beginnings, difficulties should have sprung up which no ordinances could remedy. chapter l.--_that neither any council nor any magistrate should have power to bring the government of a city to a stay._ t.q. cincinnatus and cn. julius mento being consuls of rome, and being at variance with one another, brought the whole business of the city to a stay; which the senate perceiving, were moved to create a dictator to do what, by reason of their differences, the consuls would not. but though opposed to one another in everything else, the consuls were of one mind in resisting the appointment of a dictator; so that the senate had no remedy left them but to seek the help of the tribunes, who, supported by their authority, forced the consuls to yield. here we have to note, first, the usefulness of the tribunes' authority in checking the ambitious designs, not only of the nobles against the commons, but also of one section of the nobles against another; and next, that in no city ought things ever to be so ordered that it rests with a few to decide on matters, which, if the ordinary business of the state is to proceed at all, must be carried out. wherefore, if you grant authority to a council to distribute honours and offices, or to a magistrate to administer any branch of public business, you must either impose an obligation that the duty confided shall be performed, or ordain that, on failure to perform, another may and shall do what has to be done. otherwise such an arrangement will be found defective and dangerous; as would have been the case in rome, had it not been possible to oppose the authority of the tribunes to the obstinacy of the consuls. in the venetian republic, the great council distributes honours and offices. but more than once it has happened that the council, whether from ill-humour or from being badly advised, has declined to appoint successors either to the magistrates of the city or to those administering the government abroad. this gave rise to the greatest confusion and disorder; for, on a sudden, both the city itself and the subject provinces found themselves deprived of their lawful governors; nor could any redress be had until the majority of the council were pacified or undeceived. and this disorder must have brought the city to a bad end, had not provision been made against its recurrence by certain of the wiser citizens, who, finding a fit opportunity, passed a law that no magistracy, whether within or without the city, should ever be deemed to have been vacated until it was filled up by the appointment of a successor. in this way the council was deprived of its facilities for stopping public business to the danger of the state. chapter li.--_what a prince or republic does of necessity, should seem to be done by choice_. in all their actions, even in those which are matters of necessity rather than choice, prudent men will endeavour so to conduct themselves as to conciliate good-will. this species of prudence was well exercised by the roman senate when they resolved to grant pay from the public purse to soldiers on active service, who, before, had served at their own charges. for perceiving that under the old system they could maintain no war of any duration, and, consequently, could not undertake a siege or lead an army to any distance from home, and finding it necessary to be able to do both, they decided on granting the pay i have spoken of. but this, which they could not help doing, they did in such a way as to earn the thanks of the people, by whom the concession was so well received that all rome was intoxicated with delight. for it seemed to them a boon beyond any they could have ventured to hope for, or have dreamed of demanding. and although the tribunes sought to make light of the benefit, by showing the people that their burthens would be increased rather than diminished by it, since taxes would have to be imposed out of which the soldier's stipend might be paid, they could not persuade them to regard the measure otherwise than with gratitude; which was further increased by the manner in which the senate distributed the taxes, imposing on the nobles all the heavier and greater, and those which had to be paid first. chapter lii.--_that to check the arrogance of a citizen who is growing too powerful in a state, there is no safer method, or less open to objection, than to forestall him in those ways whereby he seeks to advance himself_. it has been seen in the preceding chapter how much credit the nobles gained with the commons by a show of good-will towards them, not only in providing for their military pay, but also in adjusting taxation. had the senate constantly adhered to methods like these, they would have put an end to all disturbances in rome, and have deprived the tribunes of the credit they had with the people, and of the influence thence arising. for in truth, in a commonwealth, and especially in one which has become corrupted, there is no better, or easier, or less objectionable way of opposing the ambition of any citizen, than to anticipate him in those paths by which he is seen to be advancing to the ends he has in view. this plan, had it been followed by the enemies of cosimo de' medici, would have proved a far more useful course for them than to banish him from florence; since if those citizens who opposed him had adopted his methods for gaining over the people, they would have succeeded, without violence or tumult, in taking his most effective weapon from his hands. the influence acquired in florence by piero soderini was entirely due to his skill in securing the affections of the people, since in this way he obtained among them a name for loving the liberties of the commonwealth. and truly, for those citizens who envied his greatness it would have been both easier and more honourable, and at the same time far less dangerous and hurtful to the state, to forestall him in those measures by which he was growing powerful, than to oppose him in such a manner that his overthrow must bring with it the ruin of the entire republic. for had they, as they might easily have done, deprived him of the weapons which made him formidable, they could then have withstood him in all the councils, and in all public deliberations, without either being suspected or feared. and should any rejoin that, if the citizens who hated piero soderini committed an error in not being beforehand with him in those ways whereby he came to have influence with the people, piero himself erred in like manner, in not anticipating his enemies in those methods whereby they grew formidable to him; i answer that piero is to be excused, both because it would have been difficult for him to have so acted, and because for him such a course would not have been honourable. for the paths wherein his danger lay were those which favoured the medici, and it was by these that his enemies attacked him, and in the end overthrew him. but these paths piero could not pursue without dishonour, since he could not, if he was to preserve his fair fame, have joined in destroying that liberty which he had been put forward to defend. moreover, since favours to the medicean party could not have been rendered secretly and once for all, they would have been most dangerous for piero, who, had he shown himself friendly to the medici, must have become suspected and hated by the people; in which case his enemies would have had still better opportunities than before for his destruction. men ought therefore to look to the risks and dangers of any course which lies before them, nor engage in it when it is plain that the dangers outweigh the advantages, even though they be advised by others that it is the most expedient way to take. should they act otherwise, it will fare with them as with tullius, who, in seeking to diminish the power of marcus antonius, added to it. for antonius, who had been declared an enemy by the senate, having got together a strong force, mostly made up of veterans who had shared the fortunes of cæsar, tullius counselled the senate to invest octavianus with full authority, and to send him against antonius with the consuls and the army; affirming, that so soon as those veterans who had served with cæsar saw the face of him who was cæsar's nephew and had assumed his name, they would rally to his side and desert antonius, who might easily be crushed when thus left bare of support. but the reverse of all this happened. for antonius persuaded octavianus to take part with him, and to throw over tullius and the senate. and this brought about the ruin of the senate, a result which might easily have been foreseen. for remembering the influence of that great captain, who, after overthrowing all opponents, had seized on sovereign power in rome, the senate should have turned a deaf ear to the persuasions of tullius, nor ever have believed it possible that from cæsar's heir, or from soldiers who had followed cæsar, they could look for anything that consisted with the name of freedom. chapter liii.--_that the people, deceived by a false show of advantage, often desire what would be their ruin; and that large hopes and brave promises easily move them_. when veii fell, the commons of rome took up the notion that it would be to the advantage of their city were half their number to go and dwell there. for they argued that as veii lay in a fertile country and was a well-built city, a moiety of the roman people might in this way be enriched; while, by reason of its vicinity to rome, the management of civil affairs would in no degree be affected. to the senate, however, and the wiser among the citizens, the scheme appeared so rash and mischievous that they publicly declared they would die sooner than consent to it. the controversy continuing, the commons grew so inflamed against the senate that violence and bloodshed must have ensued; had not the senate for their protection put forward certain old and esteemed citizens, respect for whom restrained the populace and put a stop to their violence. two points are here to be noted. first, that a people deceived by a false show of advantage will often labour for its own destruction; and, unless convinced by some one whom it trusts, that the course on which it is bent is pernicious, and that some other is to be preferred, will bring infinite danger and injury upon the state. and should it so happen, as sometimes is the case, that from having been deceived before, either by men or by events, there is none in whom the people trust, their ruin is inevitable. as to which dante, in his treatise "de monarchia," observes that the people will often raise the cry, "_flourish our death and perish our life_."[ ] from which distrust it arises that often in republics the right course is not followed; as when venice, as has been related, on being attacked by many enemies, could not, until her ruin was complete, resolve to make friends with any one of them by restoring those territories she had taken from them, on account of which war had been declared and a league of princes formed against her. in considering what courses it is easy, and what it is difficult to persuade a people to follow, this distinction may be drawn: either what you would persuade them to, presents on the face of it a semblance of gain or loss, or it seems a spirited course or a base one. when any proposal submitted to the people holds out promise of advantage, or seems to them a spirited course to take, though loss lie hid behind, nay, though the ruin of their country be involved in it, they will always be easily led to adopt it; whereas it will always be difficult to persuade the adoption of such courses as wear the appearance of disgrace or loss, even though safety and advantage be bound up with them. the truth of what i say is confirmed by numberless examples both roman and foreign, modern and ancient. hence grew the ill opinion entertained in rome of fabius maximus, who could never persuade the people that it behoved them to proceed warily in their conflict with hannibal, and withstand his onset without fighting. for this the people thought a base course, not discerning the advantage resulting from it, which fabius could by no argument make plain to them. and so blinded are men in favour of what seems a spirited course, that although the romans had already committed the blunder of permitting varro, master of the knights to fabius, to join battle contrary to the latter's desire, whereby the army must have been destroyed had not fabius by his prudence saved it, this lesson was not enough; for afterwards they appointed this varro to be consul, for no other reason than that he gave out, in the streets and market-places, that he would make an end of hannibal as soon as leave was given him to do so. whence came the battle and defeat of cannæ, and well-nigh the destruction of rome. another example taken from roman history may be cited to the same effect. after hannibal had maintained himself for eight or ten years in italy, during which time the whole country had been deluged with roman blood, a certain marcus centenius penula, a man of mean origin, but who had held some post in the army, came forward and proposed to the senate that were leave given him to raise a force of volunteers in any part of italy he pleased, he would speedily deliver hannibal into their hands, alive or dead. to the senate this man's offer seemed a rash one; but reflecting that were they to refuse it, and were the people afterwards to hear that it had been made, tumults, ill will, and resentment against them would result, they granted the permission asked; choosing rather to risk the lives of all who might follow penula, than to excite fresh discontent on the part of the people, to whom they knew that such a proposal would be welcome, and that it would be very hard to dissuade them from it. and so this adventurer, marching forth with an undisciplined and disorderly rabble to meet hannibal, was, with all his followers, defeated and slain in the very first encounter. in greece, likewise, and in the city of athens, that most grave and prudent statesman, nicias, could not convince the people that the proposal to go and attack sicily was disadvantageous; and the expedition being resolved on, contrary to his advice and to the wishes of the wiser among the citizens, resulted in the overthrow of the athenian power. scipio, on being appointed consul, asked that the province of africa might be awarded to him, promising that he would utterly efface carthage; and when the senate, on the advice of fabius, refused his request, he threatened to submit the matter to the people as very well knowing that to the people such proposals are always acceptable. i might cite other instances to the same effect from the history of our own city, as when messer ercole bentivoglio and antonio giacomini, being in joint command of the florentine armies, after defeating bartolommeo d'alviano at san vincenzo, proceeded to invest pisa. for this enterprise was resolved on by the people in consequence of the brave promises of messer ercole; and though many wise citizens disapproved of it, they could do nothing to prevent it, being carried away by the popular will, which took its rise in the assurances of their captain. i say, then, that there is no readier way to bring about the ruin of a republic, when the power is in the hands of the people, than to suggest daring courses for their adoption. for wherever the people have a voice, such proposals will always be well received, nor will those persons who are opposed to them be able to apply any remedy. and as this occasions the ruin of states, it likewise, and even more frequently, occasions the private ruin of those to whom the execution of these proposals is committed; because the people anticipating victory, do not when there comes defeat ascribe it to the short means or ill fortune of the commander, but to his cowardice and incapacity; and commonly either put him to death, or imprison or banish him; as was done in the case of numberless carthaginian generals and of many athenian, no successes they might previously have obtained availing them anything; for all past services are cancelled by a present loss. and so it happened with our antonio giacomini, who not succeeding as the people had expected, and as he had promised, in taking pisa, fell into such discredit with the people, that notwithstanding his countless past services, his life was spared rather by the compassion of those in authority than through any movement of the citizens in his behalf. [footnote : "viva la sua morte e muoia la sua vita." the quotation does _not_ seem to be from the "de monarchia."] chapter liv.--_of the boundless authority which a great man may use to restrain an excited multitude_. the next noteworthy point in the passage referred to in the foregoing chapter is, that nothing tends so much to restrain an excited multitude as the reverence felt for some grave person, clothed with authority, who stands forward to oppose them. for not without reason has virgil said-- "if then, by chance, some reverend chief appear, known for his deeds and for his virtues dear, silent they wait his words and bend a listening ear."[ ] he therefore who commands an army or governs a city wherein tumult shall have broken out, ought to assume the noblest and bravest bearing he can, and clothe himself with all the ensigns of his station, that he may make himself more revered. it is not many years since florence was divided into two factions, the _frateschi_ and _arrabbiati_, as they were named, and these coming to open violence, the _frateschi_, among whom was pagolo antonio soderini, a citizen of great reputation in these days, were worsted. in the course of these disturbances the people coming with arms in their hands to plunder the house of soderini, his brother messer francesco, then bishop of volterra and now cardinal, who happened to be dwelling there, so soon as he heard the uproar and saw the crowd, putting on his best apparel and over it his episcopal robes, went forth to meet the armed multitude, and by his words and mien brought them to a stay; and for many days his behaviour was commended by the whole city. the inference from all which is, that there is no surer or more necessary restraint on the violence of an unruly multitude, than the presence of some one whose character and bearing command respect. but to return once more to the passage we are considering, we see how stubbornly the people clung to this scheme of transplanting themselves to veii, thinking it for their advantage, and not discerning the mischief really involved in it; so that in addition to the many dissensions which it occasioned, actual violence must have followed, had not the senate with the aid of certain grave and reverend citizens repressed the popular fury. [footnote : tum pietate gravem ac meritis si forte virum quem conspexere, silent, arrectisque auribus adstant. _virg. aen._, i. .] chapter lv.--_that government is easily carried on in a city wherein the body of the people is not corrupted: and that a princedom is impossible where equality prevails, and a republic where it does not_. though what we have to fear or hope from cities that have grown corrupted has already been discussed, still i think it not out of place to notice a resolution passed by the senate touching the vow which camillus made to apollo of a tenth of the spoil taken from the veientines. for this spoil having fallen into the hands of the people, the senate, being unable by other means to get any account of it, passed an edict that every man should publicly offer one tenth part of what he had taken. and although this edict was not carried out, from the senate having afterwards followed a different course, whereby, to the content of the people, the claim of apollo was otherwise satisfied, we nevertheless see from their having entertained such a proposal, how completely the senate trusted to the honesty of the people, when they assumed that no one would withhold any part of what the edict commanded him to give; on the other hand, we see that it never occurred to the people that they might evade the law by giving less than was due, their only thought being to free themselves from the law by openly manifesting their displeasure. this example, together with many others already noticed, shows how much virtue and how profound a feeling of religion prevailed among the roman people, and how much good was to be expected from them. and, in truth, in the country where virtue like this does not exist, no good can be looked for, as we should look for it in vain in provinces which at the present day are seen to be corrupted; as italy is beyond all others, though, in some degree, france and spain are similarly tainted. in which last two countries, if we see not so many disorders spring up as we see daily springing up in italy, this is not so much due to the superior virtue of their inhabitants (who, to say truth, fall far short of our countrymen), as to their being governed by a king who keeps them united, not merely by his personal qualities, but also by the laws and ordinances of the realm which are still maintained with vigour. in germany, however, we do see signal excellence and a devout religious spirit prevail among the people, giving rise to the many free states which there maintain themselves, with such strict observance of their laws that none, either within or without their walls, dare encroach on them. that among this last-named people a great share of the ancient excellence does in truth still flourish, i shall show by an example similar to that which i have above related of the senate and people of rome. it is customary with the german free states when they have to expend any large sum of money on the public account, for their magistrates or councils having authority given them in that behalf, to impose a rate of one or two in the hundred on every man's estate; which rate being fixed, every man, in conformity with the laws of the city, presents himself before the collectors of the impost, and having first made oath to pay the amount justly due, throws into a chest provided for the purpose what he conscientiously believes it fair for him to pay, of which payment none is witness save himself. from this fact it may be gathered what honesty and religion still prevail among this people. for we must assume that each pays his just share, since otherwise the impost would not yield the sum which, with reference to former imposts, it was estimated to yield; whereby the fraud would be detected, and thereupon some other method for raising money have to be resorted to. at the present time this virtue is the more to be admired, because it seems to have survived in this province only. that it has survived there may be ascribed to two circumstances: _first_, that the natives have little communication with their neighbours, neither visiting them in their countries nor being visited by them; being content to use such commodities, and subsist on such food, and to wear garments of such materials as their own land supplies; so that all occasion for intercourse, and every cause of corruption is removed. for living after this fashion, they have not learned the manners of the french, the italians, or the spaniards, which three nations together are the corruption of the world. the _second_ cause is, that these republics in which a free and pure government is maintained will not suffer any of their citizens either to be, or to live as gentlemen; but on the contrary, while preserving a strict equality among themselves, are bitterly hostile to all those gentlemen and lords who dwell in their neighbourhood; so that if by chance any of these fall into their hands, they put them to death, as the chief promoters of corruption and the origin of all disorders. but to make plain what i mean when i speak of _gentlemen_, i say that those are so to be styled who live in opulence and idleness on the revenues of their estates, without concerning themselves with the cultivation of these estates, or incurring any other fatigue for their support. such persons are very mischievous in every republic or country. but even more mischievous are they who, besides the estates i have spoken of, are lords of strongholds and castles, and have vassals and retainers who render them obedience. of these two classes of men the kingdom of naples, the country round rome, romagna, and lombardy are full; and hence it happens that in these provinces no commonwealth or free form of government has ever existed; because men of this sort are the sworn foes to all free institutions. and since to plant a commonwealth in provinces which are in this condition were impossible, if these are to be reformed at all, it can only be by some one man who is able there to establish a kingdom; the reason being that when the body of the people is grown so corrupted that the laws are powerless to control it, there must in addition to the laws be introduced a stronger force, to wit, the regal, which by its absolute and unrestricted authority may curb the excessive ambition and corruption of the great. this opinion may be supported by the example of tuscany, in which within a narrow compass of territory there have long existed the three republics of florence, lucca, and siena, while the other cities of that province, although to a certain extent dependent, still show by their spirit and by their institutions that they preserve, or at any rate desire to preserve, their freedom: and this because there are in tuscany no lords possessed of strongholds, and few or no gentlemen, but so complete an equality prevails, that a prudent statesman, well acquainted with the history of the free states of antiquity, might easily introduce free institutions. such, however, has been the unhappiness of this our country, that, up to the present hour, it has never produced any man with the power and knowledge which would have enabled him to act in this way. from what has been said, it follows, that he who would found a commonwealth in a country wherein there are many gentlemen, cannot do so unless he first gets rid of them; and that he who would found a monarchy or princedom in a country wherein great equality prevails, will never succeed, unless he raise above the level of that equality many persons of a restless and ambitious temperament, whom he must make gentlemen not in name merely but in reality, by conferring on them castles and lands, supplying them with riches, and providing them with retainers; that with these gentlemen around him, and with their help, he may maintain his power, while they through him may gratify their ambition; all others being constrained to endure a yoke, which force and force alone imposes on them. for when in this way there comes to be a proportion between him who uses force and him against whom it is used, each stands fixed in his own station. but to found a commonwealth in a country suited for a kingdom, or a kingdom in a country suited to be a commonwealth, requires so rare a combination of intelligence and power, that though many engage in the attempt, few are found to succeed. for the greatness of the undertaking quickly daunts them, and so obstructs their advance they break down at the very outset. the case of the venetian republic, wherein none save gentlemen are permitted to hold any public office, does, doubtless, seem opposed to this opinion of mine that where there are gentlemen it is impossible to found a commonwealth. but it may be answered that the case of venice is not in truth an instance to the contrary; since the gentlemen of venice are gentlemen rather in name than in reality, inasmuch as they draw no great revenues from lands, their wealth consisting chiefly in merchandise and chattels, and not one of them possessing a castle or enjoying any feudal authority. for in venice this name of gentleman is a title of honour and dignity, and does not depend on any of those circumstances in respect of which the name is given in other states. but as in other states the different ranks and classes are divided under different names, so in venice we have the division into gentlemen (_gentiluomini_) and plebeians (_popolani_), it being understood that the former hold, or have the right to hold all situations of honour, from which the latter are entirely excluded. and in venice this occasions no disturbance, for reasons which i have already explained. let a commonwealth, then, be constituted in the country where a great equality is found or has been made; and, conversely, let a princedom be constituted where great inequality prevails. otherwise what is constituted will be discordant in itself, and without stability. chapter lvi.--_that when great calamities are about to befall a city or country, signs are seen to presage, and seers arise who foretell them_. whence it happens i know not, but it is seen from examples both ancient and recent, that no grave calamity has ever befallen any city or country which has not been foretold by vision, by augury, by portent, or by some other heaven-sent sign. and not to travel too far afield for evidence of this, every one knows that long before the invasion of italy by charles viii. of france, his coming was foretold by the friar girolamo savonarola; and how, throughout the whole of tuscany, the rumour ran that over arezzo horsemen had been seen fighting in the air. and who is there who has not heard that before the death of the elder lorenzo de' medici, the highest pinnacle of the cathedral was rent by a thunderbolt, to the great injury of the building? or who, again, but knows that shortly before piero soderini, whom the people of florence had made gonfalonier for life, was deprived of his office and banished, the palace itself was struck by lightning? other instances might be cited, which, not to be tedious, i shall omit, and mention only a circumstance which titus livius tells us preceded the invasion of the gauls. for he relates how a certain plebeian named marcus ceditius reported to the senate that as he passed by night along the via nova, he heard a voice louder than mortal, bidding him warn the magistrates that the gauls were on their way to rome. the causes of such manifestations ought, i think, to be inquired into and explained by some one who has a knowledge, which i have not, of causes natural and supernatural. it may, however, be, as certain wise men say, that the air is filled with intelligent beings, to whom it is given to forecast future events; who, taking pity upon men, warn them beforehand by these signs to prepare for what awaits them. be this as it may, certain it is that such warnings are given, and that always after them new and strange disasters befall nations. chapter lvii.--_that the people are strong collectively, but individually weak_. after the ruin brought on their country by the invasion of the gauls, many of the romans went to dwell in veii, in opposition to the edicts and commands of the senate, who, to correct this mischief, publicly ordained that within a time fixed, and under penalties stated, all should return to live in rome. the persons against whom these proclamations were directed at first derided them; but, when the time came for them to be obeyed, all obeyed them. and titus livius observes that, "_although bold enough collectively, each separately, fearing to be punished, made his submission_." and indeed the temper of the multitude in such cases, cannot be better described than in this passage. for often a people will be open-mouthed in condemning the decrees of their prince, but afterwards, when they have to look punishment in the face, putting no trust in one another, they hasten to comply. wherefore, if you be in a position to keep the people well-disposed towards you when they already are so, or to prevent them injuring you in case they be ill-disposed, it is clearly of little moment whether the feelings with which they profess to regard you, be favourable or no. this applies to all unfriendliness on the part of a people, whencesoever it proceed, excepting only the resentment felt by them on being deprived either of liberty, or of a prince whom they love and who still survives. for the hostile temper produced by these two causes is more to be feared than any beside, and demands measures of extreme severity to correct it. the other untoward humours of the multitude, should there be no powerful chief to foster them, are easily dealt with; because, while on the one hand there is nothing more terrible than an uncontrolled and headless mob, on the other, there is nothing feebler. for though it be furnished with arms it is easily subdued, if you have some place of strength wherein to shelter from its first onset. for when its first fury has somewhat abated, and each man sees that he has to return to his own house, all begin to lose heart and to take thought how to insure their personal safety, whether by flight or by submission. for which reason a multitude stirred in this way, if it would avoid dangers such as i speak of, must at once appoint a head from among its own numbers, who may control it, keep it united, and provide for its defence; as did the commons of rome when, after the death of virginia, they quitted the city, and for their protection created twenty tribunes from among themselves. unless this be done, what titus livius has observed in the passage cited, will always prove true, namely, that a multitude is strong while it holds together, but so soon as each of those who compose it begins to think of his own private danger, it becomes weak and contemptible. chapter lviii.--_that a people is wiser and more constant than a prince_ that "_nothing is more fickle and inconstant than the multitude_" is affirmed not by titus livius only, but by all other historians, in whose chronicles of human actions we often find the multitude condemning some citizen to death, and afterwards lamenting him and grieving greatly for his loss, as the romans grieved and lamented for manlius capitolinus, whom they had themselves condemned to die. in relating which circumstance our author observes "_in a short time the people, having no longer cause to fear him, began to deplore his death_" and elsewhere, when speaking of what took place in syracuse after the murder of hieronymus, grandson of hiero, he says, "_it is the nature of the multitude to be an abject slave, or a domineering master_" it may be that in attempting to defend a cause, which, as i have said, all writers are agreed to condemn, i take upon me a task so hard and difficult that i shall either have to relinquish it with shame or pursue it with opprobrium. be that as it may, i neither do, nor ever shall judge it a fault, to support opinion by arguments, where it is not sought to impose them by violence or authority i maintain, then, that this infirmity with which historians tax the multitude, may with equal reason be charged against every individual man, but most of all against princes, since all who are not controlled by the laws, will commit the very same faults as are committed by an uncontrolled multitude. proof whereof were easy, since of all the many princes existing, or who have existed, few indeed are or have been either wise or good. i speak of such princes as have had it in their power to break the reins by which they are controlled, among whom i do not reckon those kings who reigned in egypt in the most remote antiquity when that country was governed in conformity with its laws; nor do i include those kings who reigned in sparta, nor those who in our own times reign in france, which kingdom, more than any other whereof we have knowledge at the present day, is under the government of its laws. for kings who live, as these do, subject to constitutional restraint, are not to be counted when we have to consider each man's proper nature, and to see whether he resembles the multitude. for to draw a comparison with such princes as these, we must take the case of a multitude controlled as they are, and regulated by the laws, when we shall find it to possess the same virtues which we see in them, and neither conducting itself as an abject slave nor as a domineering master. such was the people of rome, who, while the commonwealth continued uncorrupted, never either served abjectly nor domineered haughtily; but, on the contrary, by means of their magistrates and their ordinances, maintained their place, and when forced to put forth their strength against some powerful citizen, as in the case of manlius, the decemvirs, and others who sought to oppress them, did so; but when it was necessary for the public welfare to yield obedience to the dictator or consuls, obeyed. and if the roman people mourned the loss of the dead manlius, it is no wonder; for they mourned his virtues, which had been of such a sort that their memory stirred the regret of all, and would have had power to produce the same feelings even in a prince; all writers being agreed that excellence is praised and admired even by its enemies. but if manlius when he was so greatly mourned, could have risen once more from the dead, the roman people would have pronounced the same sentence against him which they pronounced when they led him forth from the prison-house, and straightway condemned him to die. and in like manner we see that princes, accounted wise, have put men to death, and afterwards greatly lamented them, as alexander mourned for clitus and others of his friends, and herod for mariamne. but what our historian says of the multitude, he says not of a multitude which like the people of rome is controlled by the laws, but of an uncontrolled multitude like the syracusans, who were guilty of all these crimes which infuriated and ungoverned men commit, and which were equally committed by alexander and herod in the cases mentioned. wherefore the nature of a multitude is no more to be blamed than the nature of princes, since both equally err when they can do so without regard to consequences. of which many instances, besides those already given, might be cited from the history of the roman emperors, and of other princes and tyrants, in whose lives we find such inconstancy and fickleness, as we might look in vain for in a people. i maintain, therefore, contrary to the common opinion which avers that a people when they have the management of affairs are changeable, fickle, and ungrateful, that these faults exist not in them otherwise than as they exist in individual princes; so that were any to accuse both princes and peoples, the charge might be true, but that to make exception in favour of princes is a mistake; for a people in command, if it be duly restrained, will have the same prudence and the same gratitude as a prince has, or even more, however wise he may be reckoned; and a prince on the other hand, if freed from the control of the laws, will be more ungrateful, fickle, and short-sighted than a people. and further, i say that any difference in their methods of acting results not from any difference in their nature, that being the same in both, or, if there be advantage on either side, the advantage resting with the people, but from their having more or less respect for the laws under which each lives. and whosoever attentively considers the history of the roman people, may see that for four hundred years they never relaxed in their hatred of the regal name, and were constantly devoted to the glory and welfare of their country, and will find numberless proofs given by them of their consistency in both particulars. and should any allege against me the ingratitude they showed to scipio, i reply by what has already been said at length on that head, where i proved that peoples are less ungrateful than princes. but as for prudence and stability of purpose, i affirm that a people is more prudent, more stable, and of better judgment than a prince. nor is it without reason that the voice of the people has been likened to the voice of god; for we see that wide-spread beliefs fulfil themselves, and bring about marvellous results, so as to have the appearance of presaging by some occult quality either weal or woe. again, as to the justice of their opinions on public affairs, seldom find that after hearing two speakers of equal ability urging them in opposite directions, they do not adopt the sounder view, or are unable to decide on the truth of what they hear. and if, as i have said, a people errs in adopting courses which appear to it bold and advantageous, princes will likewise err when their passions are touched, as is far oftener the case with them than with a people. we see, too, that in the choice of magistrates a people will choose far more honestly than a prince; so that while you shall never persuade a people that it is advantageous to confer dignities on the infamous and profligate, a prince may readily, and in a thousand ways, be drawn to do so. again, it may be seen that a people, when once they have come to hold a thing in abhorrence, remain for many ages of the same mind; which we do not find happen with princes. for the truth of both of which assertions the roman people are my sufficient witness, who, in the course of so many hundred years, and in so many elections of consuls and tribunes, never made four appointments of which they had reason to repent; and, as i have said, so detested the name of king, that no obligation they might be under to any citizen who affected that name, could shield him from the appointed penalty. further, we find that those cities wherein the government is in the hands of the people, in a very short space of time, make marvellous progress, far exceeding that made by cities which have been always ruled by princes; as rome grew after the expulsion of her kings, and athens after she freed herself from pisistratus; and this we can ascribe to no other cause than that the rule of a people is better than the rule of a prince. nor would i have it thought that anything our historian may have affirmed in the passage cited, or elsewhere, controverts these my opinions. for if all the glories and all the defects both of peoples and of princes be carefully weighed, it will appear that both for goodness and for glory a people is to be preferred. and if princes surpass peoples in the work of legislation, in shaping civil institutions, in moulding statutes, and framing new ordinances, so far do the latter surpass the former in maintaining what has once been established, as to merit no less praise than they. and to state the sum of the whole matter shortly, i say that popular governments have endured for long periods in the same way as the governments of princes, and that both have need to be regulated by the laws; because the prince who can do what he pleases is a madman, and the people which can do as it pleases is never wise. if, then, we assume the case of a prince bound, and of a people chained down by the laws, greater virtue will appear in the people than in the prince; while if we assume the case of each of them freed from all control, it will be seen that the people commits fewer errors than the prince, and less serious errors, and such as admit of readier cure. for a turbulent and unruly people may be spoken to by a good man, and readily brought back to good ways; but none can speak to a wicked prince, nor any remedy be found against him but by the sword. and from this we may infer which of the two suffers from the worse disease; for if the disease of the people may be healed by words, while that of the prince must be dealt with by the sword, there is none but will judge that evil to be the greater which demands the more violent remedy. when a people is absolutely uncontrolled, it is not so much the follies which it commits or the evil which it actually does that excites alarm, as the mischief which may thence result, since in such disorders it becomes possible for a tyrant to spring up. but with a wicked prince the contrary is the case; for we dread present ill, and place our hopes in the future, persuading ourselves that the evil life of the prince may bring about our freedom. so that there is this distinction between the two, that with the one we fear what is, with the other what is likely to be. again, the cruelties of a people are turned against him who it fears will encroach upon the common rights, but the cruelties of the prince against those who he fears may assert those rights. the prejudice which is entertained against the people arises from this, that any man may speak ill of them openly and fearlessly, even when the government is in their hands; whereas princes are always spoken of with a thousand reserves and a constant eye to consequences. but since the subject suggests it, it seems to me not out of place to consider what alliances we can most trust, whether those made with commonwealths or those made with princes. chapter lix.--_to what leagues or alliances we may most trust; whether those we make with commonwealths or those we make with princes_. since leagues and alliances are every day entered into by one prince with another, or by one commonwealth with another, and as conventions and treaties are concluded in like manner between princes and commonwealths, it seems to me proper to inquire whether the faith of a commonwealth or that of a prince is the more stable and the safer to count on. all things considered, i am disposed to believe that in most cases they are alike, though in some they differ. of one thing, however, i am convinced, namely, that engagements made under duress will never be observed either by prince or by commonwealth; and that if menaced with the loss of their territories, both the one and the other will break faith with you and treat you with ingratitude. demetrius, who was named the "city-taker," had conferred numberless benefits upon the athenians; but when, afterwards, on being defeated by his enemies, he sought shelter in athens, as being a friendly city and under obligations to him, it was refused him; a circumstance which grieved him far more than the loss of his soldiers and army had done. pompey, in like manner, when routed by cæsar in thessaly, fled for refuge to ptolemy in egypt, who formerly had been restored by him to his kingdom; by whom he was put to death. in both these instances the same causes were at work, although the inhumanity and the wrong inflicted were less in the case of the commonwealth than of the prince. still, wherever there is fear, the want of faith will be the same. and even if there be found a commonwealth or prince who, in order to keep faith, will submit to be ruined, this is seen to result from a like cause. for, as to the prince, it may easily happen that he is friend to a powerful sovereign, whom, though he be at the time without means to defend him, he may presently hope to see restored to his dominions; or it may be that having linked his fortunes with another's, he despairs of finding either faith or friendship from the enemies of his ally, as was the case with those neapolitan princes who espoused the interests of france. as to commonwealths, an instance similar to that of the princes last named, is that of saguntum in spain, which awaited ruin in adhering to the fortunes of rome. a like course was also followed by florence when, in the year , she stood steadfastly by the cause of the french. and taking everything into account, i believe that in cases of urgency, we shall find a certain degree of stability sooner in commonwealths than in princes. for though commonwealths be like-minded with princes, and influenced by the same passions, the circumstance that their movements must be slower, makes it harder for them to resolve than it is for a prince, for which reason they will be less ready to break faith. and since leagues and alliances are broken for the sake of certain advantages, in this respect also, commonwealths observe their engagements far more faithfully than princes; for abundant examples might be cited of a very slight advantage having caused a prince to break faith, and of a very great advantage having failed to induce a commonwealth to do so. of this we have an instance in the proposal made to the athenians by themistocles, when he told them at a public meeting that he had certain advice to offer which would prove of great advantage to their city, but the nature of which he could not disclose to them, lest it should become generally known, when the opportunity for acting upon it would be lost. whereupon the athenians named aristides to receive his communication, and to act upon it as he thought fit. to him, accordingly, themistocles showed how the navy of united greece, for the safety of which the athenians stood pledged, was so situated that they might either gain it over or destroy it, and thus make themselves absolute masters of the whole country. aristides reporting to the athenians that the course proposed by themistocles was extremely advantageous but extremely dishonourable, the people utterly refused to entertain it. but philip of macedon would not have so acted, nor any of those other princes who have sought and found more profit in breaking faith than in any other way. as to engagements broken off on the pretext that they have not been observed by the other side, i say nothing, since that is a matter of everyday occurrence, and i am speaking here only of those engagements which are broken off on extraordinary grounds; but in this respect, likewise, i believe that commonwealths offend less than princes, and are therefore more to be trusted. chapter lx.--_that the consulship and all the other magistracies in rome were given without respect to age_. it is seen in the course of the roman history that, after the consulship was thrown open to the commons, the republic conceded this dignity to all its citizens, without distinction either of age or blood; nay, that in this matter respect for age was never made a ground for preference among the romans, whose constant aim it was to discover excellence whether existing in old or young. to this we have the testimony of valerius corvinus, himself made consul in his twenty-fourth year, who, in addressing his soldiers, said of the consulship that it was "_the reward not of birth but of desert_." whether the course thus followed by the romans was well judged or not, is a question on which much might be said. the concession as to blood, however, was made under necessity, and as i have observed on another occasion, the same necessity which obtained in rome, will be found to obtain in every other city which desires to achieve the results which rome achieved. for you cannot subject men to hardships unless you hold out rewards, nor can you without danger deprive them of those rewards whereof you have held out hopes. it was consequently necessary to extend, betimes, to the commons the hope of obtaining the consulship, on which hope they fed themselves for a while, without actually realizing it. but afterwards the hope alone was not enough, and it had to be satisfied. for while cities which do not employ men of plebeian birth in any of those undertakings wherein glory is to be gained, as we have seen was the case with venice, may treat these men as they please, those other cities which desire to do as rome did, cannot make this distinction. and if there is to be no distinction in respect of blood, nothing can be pleaded for a distinction in respect of age. on the contrary, that distinction must of necessity cease to be observed. for where a young man is appointed to a post which requires the prudence which are is supposed to bring, it must be, since the choice rests with the people, that he is thus advanced in consideration of some noble action which he has performed; but when a young man is of such excellence as to have made a name for himself by some signal achievement, it were much to the detriment of his city were it unable at once to make use of him, but had to wait until he had grown old, and had lost, with youth, that alacrity and vigour by which his country might have profited; as rome profited by the services of valerius corvinus, of scipio, of pompey, and of many others who triumphed while yet very young. book ii. * * * * * preface. men do always, but not always with reason, commend the past and condemn the present, and are so much the partisans of what has been, as not merely to cry up those times which are known to them only from the records left by historians, but also, when they grow old, to extol the days in which they remember their youth to have been spent. and although this preference of theirs be in most instances a mistaken one, i can see that there are many causes to account for it; chief of which i take to be that in respect of things long gone by we perceive not the whole truth, those circumstances that would detract from the credit of the past being for the most part hidden from us, while all that gives it lustre is magnified and embellished. for the generality of writers render this tribute to the good fortune of conquerors, that to make their achievements seem more splendid, they not merely exaggerate the great things they have done, but also lend such a colour to the actions of their enemies, that any one born afterwards, whether in the conquering or in the conquered country, has cause to marvel at these men and these times, and is constrained to praise and love them beyond all others. again, men being moved to hatred either by fear or envy, these two most powerful causes of dislike are cancelled in respect of things which are past, because what is past can neither do us hurt, nor afford occasion for envy. the contrary, however, is the case with the things we see, and in which we take part; for in these, from our complete acquaintance with them, no part of them being hidden from us, we recognize, along with much that is good, much that displeases us, and so are forced to pronounce them far inferior to the old, although in truth they deserve far greater praise and admiration. i speak not, here, of what relates to the arts, which have such distinction inherent in them, that time can give or take from them but little of the glory which they merit of themselves. i speak of the lives and manners of men, touching which the grounds for judging are not so clear. i repeat, then, that it is true that this habit of blaming and praising obtains, but not always true that it is wrong applied. for sometimes it will happen that this judgment is just; because, as human affairs are in constant movement, it must be that they either rise or fall. wherefore, we may see a city or province furnished with free institutions by some great and wise founder, flourish for a while through his merits, and advance steadily on the path of improvement. any one born therein at that time would be in the wrong to praise the past more than the present, and his error would be occasioned by the causes already noticed. but any one born afterwards in that city or province when the time has come for it to fall away from its former felicity, would not be mistaken in praising the past. when i consider how this happens, i am persuaded that the world, remaining continually the same, has in it a constant quantity of good and evil; but that this good and this evil shift about from one country to another, as we know that in ancient times empire shifted from one nation to another, according as the manners of these nations changed, the world, as a whole, continuing as before, and the only difference being that, whereas at first assyria was made the seat of its excellence, this was afterwards placed in media, then in persia, until at last it was transferred to italy and rome. and although after the roman empire, none has followed which has endured, or in which the world has centred its whole excellence, we nevertheless find that excellence diffused among many valiant nations, the kingdom of the franks, for example, that of the turks, that of the soldan, and the states of germany at the present day; and shared at an earlier time by that sect of the saracens who performed so many great achievements and gained so wide a dominion, after destroying the roman empire in the east. in all these countries, therefore, after the decline of the roman power, and among all these races, there existed, and in some part of them there yet exists, that excellence which alone is to be desired and justly to be praised. wherefore, if any man being born in one of these countries should exalt past times over present, he might be mistaken; but any who, living at the present day in italy or greece, has not in italy become an ultramontane or in greece a turk, has reason to complain of his own times, and to commend those others, in which there were many things which made them admirable; whereas, now, no regard being had to religion, to laws, or to arms, but all being tarnished with every sort of shame, there is nothing to redeem the age from the last extremity of wretchedness, ignominy, and disgrace. and the vices of our age are the more odious in that they are practised by those who sit on the judgment seat, govern the state, and demand public reverence. but, returning to the matter in hand, it may be said, that if the judgment of men be at fault in pronouncing whether the present age or the past is the better in respect of things whereof, by reason of their antiquity, they cannot have the same perfect knowledge which they have of their own times, it ought not to be at fault in old men when they compare the days of their youth with those of their maturity, both of which have been alike seen and known by them. this were indeed true, if men at all periods of their lives judged of things in the same way, and were constantly influenced by the same desires; but since they alter, the times, although they alter not, cannot but seem different to those who have other desires, other pleasures, and other ways of viewing things in their old age from those they had in their youth. for since, when they grow old, men lose in bodily strength but gain in wisdom and discernment, it must needs be that those things which in their youth seemed to them tolerable and good, should in their old age appear intolerable and evil. and whereas they should ascribe this to their judgment, they lay the blame upon the times. but, further, since the desires of men are insatiable, nature prompting them to desire all things and fortune permitting them to enjoy but few, there results a constant discontent in their minds, and a loathing of what they possess, prompting them to find fault with the present, praise the past, and long for the future, even though they be not moved thereto by any reasonable cause. i know not, therefore, whether i may not deserve to be reckoned in the number of those who thus deceive themselves, if, in these discourses of mine, i render excessive praise to the ancient times of the romans while i censure our own. and, indeed, were not the excellence which then prevailed and the corruption which prevails now clearer than the sun, i should proceed more guardedly in what i have to say, from fear lest in accusing others i should myself fall into this self-deception. but since the thing is so plain that every one sees it, i shall be bold to speak freely all i think, both of old times and of new, in order that the minds of the young who happen to read these my writings, may be led to shun modern examples, and be prepared to follow those set by antiquity whenever chance affords the opportunity. for it is the duty of every good man to teach others those wholesome lessons which the malice of time or of fortune has not permitted him to put in practice; to the end, that out of many who have the knowledge, some one better loved by heaven may be found able to carry them out. having spoken, then, in the foregoing book of the various methods followed by the romans in regulating the domestic affairs of their city, in this i shall speak of what was done by them to spread their empire. chapter i.--_whether the empire acquired by the romans was more due to valour or to fortune_. many authors, and among others that most grave historian plutarch, have thought that in acquiring their empire the romans were more beholden to their good fortune than to their valour; and besides other reasons which they give for this opinion, they affirm it to be proved by the admission of the romans themselves, since their having erected more temples to fortune than to any other deity, shows that it was to her that they ascribed their success. it would seem, too, that titus livius was of the same mind, since he very seldom puts a speech into the mouth of any roman in which he discourses of valour, wherein he does not also make mention of fortune. this, however, is an opinion with which i can in no way concur, and which, i take it, cannot be made good. for if no commonwealth has ever been found to grow like the roman, it is because none was ever found so well fitted by its institutions to make that growth. for by the valour of her armies she spread her empire, while by her conduct of affairs, and by other methods peculiar to herself and devised by her first founder, she was able to keep what she acquired, as shall be fully shown in many of the following discourses. the writers to whom i have referred assert that it was owing to their good fortune and not to their prudence that the romans never had two great wars on their hands at once; as, for instance, that they waged no wars with the latins until they had not merely overcome the samnites, but undertook in their defence the war on which they then entered; nor ever fought with the etruscans until they had subjugated the latins, and had almost worn out the samnites by frequent defeats; whereas, had any two of these powers, while yet fresh and unexhausted, united together, it may easily be believed that the ruin of the roman republic must have followed. but to whatsoever cause we ascribe it, it never so chanced that the romans engaged in two great wars at the same time. on the contrary, it always seemed as though on the breaking out of one war, another was extinguished; or that on the termination of one, another broke out. and this we may plainly see from the order in which their wars succeeded one another. for, omitting those waged by them before their city was taken by the gauls, we find that during their struggle with the equians and the volscians, and while these two nations continued strong, no others rose against them. on these being subdued, there broke out the war with the samnites; and although before the close of that contest the latin nations had begun to rebel against rome, nevertheless, when their rebellion came to a head, the samnites were in league with rome, and helped her with their army to quell the presumption of the rebels; on whose defeat the war with samnium was renewed. when the strength of samnium had been drained by repeated reverses, there followed the war with the etruscans; which ended, the samnites were once more stirred to activity by the coming of pyrrhus into italy. when he, too, had been defeated, and sent back to greece, rome entered on her first war with the carthaginians; which was no sooner over than all the gallic nations on both sides of the alps combined against the romans, by whom, in the battle fought between populonia and pisa, where now stands the fortress of san vincenzo, they were at last routed with tremendous slaughter. this war ended, for twenty years together the romans were engaged in no contest of importance, their only adversaries being the ligurians, and the remnant of the gallic tribes who occupied lombardy; and on this footing things continued down to the second carthaginian war, which for sixteen years kept the whole of italy in a blaze. this too being brought to a most glorious termination, there followed the macedonian war, at the close of which succeeded the war with antiochus and asia. these subdued, there remained not in the whole world, king or people who either singly or together could withstand the power of rome. but even before this last victory, any one observing the order of these wars, and the method in which they were conducted, must have recognized not only the good fortune of the romans, but also their extraordinary valour and prudence. and were any one to search for the causes of this good fortune, he would have little difficulty in finding them, since nothing is more certain than that when a potentate has attained so great a reputation that every neighbouring prince or people is afraid to engage him single-handed, and stands in awe of him, none will ever venture to attack him, unless driven to do so by necessity; so that it will almost rest on his will to make war as he likes on any of his neighbours, while he studiously maintains peace with the rest; who, on their part, whether through fear of his power, or deceived by the methods he takes to dull their vigilance, are easily kept quiet. distant powers, in the mean time, who have no intercourse with either, treat the matter as too remote to concern them in any way; and abiding in this error until the conflagration approaches their own doors, on its arrival have no resource for its extinction, save in their own strength, which, as their enemy has by that time become exceedingly powerful, no longer suffices. i forbear to relate how the samnites stood looking on while the romans were subjugating the equians and the volscians; and, to avoid being prolix, shall content myself with the single instance of the carthaginians, who, at the time when the romans were contending with the samnites and etruscans, were possessed of great power and held in high repute, being already masters of the whole of africa together with sicily and sardinia, besides occupying territory in various parts of spain. and because their empire was so great, and at such a distance from the roman frontier, they were never led to think of attacking the romans or of lending assistance to the etruscans or samnites. on the contrary, they behaved towards the romans as men behave towards those whom they see prosper, rather taking their part and courting their friendship. nor did they discover their mistake until the romans, after subduing all the intervening nations, began to assail their power both in spain and sicily. what happened in the case of the carthaginians, happened also in the case of the gauls, of philip of macedon, and of antiochus, each of whom, while rome was engaged with another of them, believed that other would have the advantage, and that there would be time enough to provide for their own safety, whether by making peace or war. it seems to me, therefore, that the same good fortune which, in this respect, attended the romans, might be shared by all princes acting as they did, and of a valour equal to theirs. as bearing on this point, it might have been proper for me to show what methods were followed by the romans in entering the territories of other nations, had i not already spoken of this at length in my _treatise on princedoms_, wherein the whole subject is discussed. here it is enough to say briefly, that in a new province they always sought for some friend who should be to them as a ladder whereby to climb, a door through which to pass, or an instrument wherewith to keep their hold. thus we see them effect their entrance into samnium through the capuans, into etruria through the camertines, into sicily through the mamertines, into spain through the saguntans, into africa through massinissa, into greece through the etolians, into asia through eumenes and other princes, into gaul through the massilians and eduans; and, in like manner, never without similar assistance in their efforts whether to acquire provinces or to keep them. the nations who carefully attend to this precaution will be seen to stand in less need of fortune's help than others who neglect it. but that all may clearly understand how much more the romans were aided by valour than by fortune in acquiring their empire, i shall in the following chapter consider the character of those nations with whom they had to contend, and show how stubborn these were in defending their freedom. chapter ii.--_with what nations the romans had to contend, and how stubborn these were in defending their freedom._ in subduing the countries round about them, and certain of the more distant provinces, nothing gave the romans so much trouble, as the love which in those days many nations bore to freedom, defending it with such obstinacy as could not have been overcome save by a surpassing valour. for we know by numberless instances, what perils these nations were ready to face in their efforts to maintain or recover their freedom, and what vengeance they took against those who deprived them of it. we know, too, from history, what hurt a people or city suffers from servitude. and though, at the present day, there is but one province which can be said to contain within it free cities, we find that formerly these abounded everywhere. for we learn that in the ancient times of which i speak, from the mountains which divide tuscany from lombardy down to the extreme point of italy, there dwelt numerous free nations, such as the etruscans, the romans, and the samnites, besides many others in other parts of the peninsula. nor do we ever read of there being any kings over them, except those who reigned in rome, and porsenna, king of etruria. how the line of this last-named prince came to be extinguished, history does not inform us; but it is clear that at the time when the romans went to besiege veii, etruria was free, and so greatly rejoiced in her freedom, and so detested the regal name, that when the veientines, who for their defence had created a king in veii, sought aid from the etruscans against rome, these, after much deliberation resolved to lend them no help while they continued to live under a king; judging it useless to defend a country given over to servitude by its inhabitants. it is easy to understand whence this love of liberty arises among nations, for we know by experience that states have never signally increased, either as to dominion or wealth, except where they have lived under a free government. and truly it is strange to think to what a pitch of greatness athens came during the hundred years after she had freed herself from the despotism of pisistratus; and far stranger to contemplate the marvellous growth which rome made after freeing herself from her kings. the cause, however, is not far to seek, since it is the well-being, not of individuals, but of the community which makes a state great; and, without question, this universal well-being is nowhere secured save in a republic. for a republic will do whatsoever makes for its interest; and though its measures prove hurtful to this man or to that, there are so many whom they benefit, that these are able to carry them out, in spite of the resistance of the few whom they injure. but the contrary happens in the case of a prince; for, as a rule, what helps him hurts the state, and what helps the state hurts him; so that whenever a tyranny springs up in a city which has lived free, the least evil which can befall that city is to make no further progress, nor ever increase in power or wealth; but in most cases, if not in all, it will be its fate to go back. or should there chance to arise in it some able tyrant who extends his dominions by his valour and skill in arms, the advantage which results is to himself only, and not to the state; since he can bestow no honours on those of the citizens over whom he tyrannizes who have shown themselves good and valiant, lest afterwards he should have cause to fear them. nor can he make those cities which he acquires, subject or tributary to the city over which he rules; because to make this city powerful is not for his interest, which lies in keeping it so divided that each town and province may separately recognize him alone as its master. in this way he only, and not his country, is the gainer by his conquests. and if any one desire to have this view confirmed by numberless other proofs, let him look into xenophon's treatise _de tirannide_. no wonder, then, that the nations of antiquity pursued tyrants with such relentless hatred, and so passionately loved freedom that its very name was dear to them, as was seen when hieronymus, grandson of hiero the syracusan, was put to death in syracuse. for when word of his death reached the army, which lay encamped not far off, at first it was greatly moved, and eager to take up arms against the murderers. but on hearing the cry of liberty shouted in the streets of syracuse, quieted at once by the name, it laid aside its resentment against those who had slain the tyrant, and fell to consider how a free government might be provided for the city. nor is it to be wondered at that the ancient nations took terrible vengeance on those who deprived them of their freedom; of which, though there be many instances, i mean only to cite one which happened in the city of corcyra at the time of the peloponnesian war. for greece being divided into two factions, one of which sided with the athenians, the other with the spartans, it resulted that many of its cities were divided against themselves, some of the citizens seeking the friendship of sparta and some of athens. in the aforesaid city of corcyra, the nobles getting the upper hand, deprived the commons of their freedom; these, however, recovering themselves with the help of the athenians, laid hold of the entire body of the nobles, and cast them into a prison large enough to contain them all, whence they brought them forth by eight or ten at a time, pretending that they were to be sent to different places into banishment, whereas, in fact, they put them to death with many circumstances of cruelty. those who were left, learning what was going on, resolved to do their utmost to escape this ignominious death, and arming themselves with what weapons they could find, defended the door of their prison against all who sought to enter; till the people, hearing the tumult and rushing in haste to the prison, dragged down the roof, and smothered the prisoners in the ruins. many other horrible and atrocious cruelties likewise perpetrated in greece, show it to be true that a lost freedom is avenged with more ferocity than a threatened freedom is defended. when i consider whence it happened that the nations of antiquity were so much more zealous in their love of liberty than those of the present day, i am led to believe that it arose from the same cause which makes the present generation of men less vigorous and daring than those of ancient times, namely the difference of the training of the present day from that of earlier ages; and this, again, arises from the different character of the religions then and now prevailing. for our religion, having revealed to us the truth and the true path, teaches us to make little account of worldly glory; whereas, the gentiles, greatly esteeming it, and placing therein their highest good, displayed a greater fierceness in their actions. this we may gather from many of their customs, beginning with their sacrificial rites, which were of much magnificence as compared with the simplicity of our worship, though that be not without a certain dignity of its own, refined rather than splendid, and far removed from any tincture of ferocity or violence. in the religious ceremonies of the ancients neither pomp nor splendour were wanting; but to these was joined the ordinance of sacrifice, giving occasion to much bloodshed and cruelty. for in its celebration many beasts were slaughtered, and this being a cruel spectacle imparted a cruel temper to the worshippers. moreover, under the old religions none obtained divine honours save those who were loaded with worldly glory, such as captains of armies and rulers of cities; whereas our religion glorifies men of a humble and contemplative, rather than of an active life. accordingly, while the highest good of the old religions consisted in magnanimity, bodily strength, and all those other qualities which make men brave, our religion places it in humility, lowliness, and contempt for the things of this world; or if it ever calls upon us to be brave, it is that we should be brave to suffer rather than to do. this manner of life, therefore, seems to have made the world feebler, and to have given it over as a prey to wicked men to deal with as they please; since the mass of mankind, in the hope of being received into paradise, think more how to bear injuries than how to avenge them. but should it seem that the world has grown effeminate and heaven laid aside her arms, this assuredly results from the baseness of those who have interpreted our religion to accord with indolence and ease rather than with valour. for were we to remember that religion permits the exaltation and defence of our country, we would see it to be our duty to love and honour it, and would strive to be able and ready to defend it. this training, therefore, and these most false interpretations are the causes why, in the world of the present day, we find no longer the numerous commonwealths which were found of old; and in consequence, that we see not now among the nations that love of freedom which prevailed then; though, at the same time, i am persuaded that one cause of this change has been, that the roman empire by its arms and power put an end to all the free states and free institutions of antiquity. for although the power of rome fell afterwards into decay, these states could never recover their strength or resume their former mode of government, save in a very few districts of the empire. but, be this as it may, certain it is that in every country of the world, even the least considerable, the romans found a league of well-armed republics, most resolute in the defence of their freedom, whom it is clear they never could have subdued had they not been endowed with the rarest and most astonishing valour. to cite a single instance, i shall take the case of the samnites who, strange as it may now seem, were on the admission of titus livius himself, so powerful and so steadfast in arms, as to be able to withstand the romans down to the consulship of papirius cursor, son to the first papirius, a period of six and forty years, in spite of numerous defeats, the loss of many of their towns, and the great slaughter which overtook them everywhere throughout their country. and this is the more remarkable when we see that country, which once contained so many noble cities, and supported so great a population, now almost uninhabited; and reflect that it formerly enjoyed a government and possessed resources making its conquest impossible to less than roman valour. there is no difficulty, therefore, in determining whence that ancient greatness and this modern decay have arisen, since they can be traced to the free life formerly prevailing and to the servitude which prevails now. for all countries and provinces which enjoy complete freedom, make, as i have said, most rapid progress. because, from marriage being less restricted in these countries, and more sought after, we find there a greater population; every man being disposed to beget as many children as he thinks he can rear, when he has no anxiety lest they should be deprived of their patrimony, and knows not only that they are born to freedom and not to slavery, but that they may rise by their merit to be the first men of their country. in such states, accordingly, we see wealth multiply, both that which comes from agriculture and that which comes from manufactures. for all love to gather riches and to add to their possessions when their enjoyment of them is not likely to be disturbed. and hence it happens that the citizens of such states vie with one another in whatever tends to promote public or private well-being; in both of which, consequently, there is a wonderful growth. but the contrary of all this takes place in those countries which live in servitude, and the more oppressive their servitude, the more they fall short of the good which all desire. and the hardest of all hard servitudes is that wherein one commonwealth is subjected to another. first, because it is more lasting, and there is less hope to escape from it; and, second, because every commonwealth seeks to add to its own strength by weakening and enfeebling all beside. a prince who gets the better of you will not treat you after this fashion, unless he be a barbarian like those eastern despots who lay countries waste and destroy the labours of civilization; but if influenced by the ordinary promptings of humanity, will, as a rule, regard all his subject states with equal favour, and suffer them to pursue their usual employments, and retain almost all their ancient institutions, so that if they flourish not as free states might, they do not dwindle as states that are enslaved; by which i mean enslaved by a stranger, for of that other slavery to which they may be reduced by one of their own citizens, i have already spoken. whoever, therefore, shall well consider what has been said above, will not be astonished at the power possessed by the samnites while they were still free, nor at the weakness into which they fell when they were subjugated. of which change in their fortunes livius often reminds us, and particularly in connection with the war with hannibal, where he relates that the samnites, being ill-treated by a roman legion quartered at nola, sent legates to hannibal to ask his aid; who in laying their case before him told him, that with their own soldiers and captains they had fought single handed against the romans for a hundred years, and had more than once withstood two consuls and two consular armies; but had now fallen so low, that they were scarce able to defend themselves against one poor legion. chapter iii.--_that rome became great by destroying the cities which lay round about her, and by readily admitting strangers to the rights of citizenship._ "crescit interea roma albæ ruinis"--_meanwhile rome grows on the ruins of alba_. they who would have their city become a great empire, must endeavour by every means to fill it with inhabitants; for without a numerous population no city can ever succeed in growing powerful. this may be effected in two ways, by gentleness or by force. by gentleness, when you offer a safe and open path to all strangers who may wish to come and dwell in your city, so as to encourage them to come there of their own accord; by force, when after destroying neighbouring towns, you transplant their inhabitants to live in yours. both of these methods were practised by rome, and with such success, that in the time of her sixth king there dwelt within her walls eighty thousand citizens fit to bear arms. for the romans loved to follow the methods of the skilful husbandman, who, to insure a plant growing big and yielding and maturing its fruit, cuts off the first shoots it sends out, that the strength remaining in the stem, it may in due season put forth new and more vigorous and more fruitful branches. and that this was a right and a necessary course for rome to take for establishing and extending her empire, is proved by the example of sparta and athens, which, although exceedingly well-armed states, and regulated by excellent laws, never reached the same greatness as the roman republic; though the latter, to all appearance, was more turbulent and disorderly than they, and, so far as laws went, not so perfectly governed. for this we can offer no other explanation than that already given. for by augmenting the numbers of her citizens in both the ways named, rome was soon able to place two hundred and eighty thousand men under arms; while neither sparta nor athens could ever muster more than twenty thousand; and this, not because the situation of these countries was less advantageous than that of rome, but simply from the difference in the methods they followed. for lycurgus, the founder of the spartan republic, thinking nothing so likely to relax his laws as an admixture of new citizens, did all he could to prevent intercourse with strangers; with which object, besides refusing these the right to marry, the right of citizenship, and all such other social rights as induce men to become members of a community, he ordained that in this republic of his the only money current should be of leather, so that none might be tempted to repair thither to trade or to carry on any art. under such circumstances the number of the inhabitants of that state could never much increase. for as all our actions imitate nature, and it is neither natural nor possible that a puny stem should carry a great branch, so a small republic cannot assume control over cities or countries stronger than herself; or, doing so, will resemble the tree whose boughs being greater than its trunk, are supported with difficulty, and snapped by every gust of wind. as it proved with sparta. for after she had spread her dominion over all the cities of greece, no sooner did thebes rebel than all the others rebelled likewise, and the trunk was left stripped of its boughs. but this could not have happened with rome, whose stem was mighty enough to bear any branch with ease. it was, therefore, by adding to her population, and by, adopting certain other methods presently to be noticed, that rome became so great and powerful. and this is well expressed by titus livius, in the words, "_crescit interea roma albae ruinis_." chapter iv.--_that commonwealths have followed three methods for extending their power_. any one who has read ancient history with attention, must have observed that three methods have been used by republics for extending their power. one of these, followed by the old etruscans, is to form a confederation of many states, wherein none has precedence over the rest in authority or rank, and each allows the others to share its acquisitions; as do the states of the swiss league in our days, and as the achaians and etolians did in greece in earlier times. and because the etruscans were opposed to the romans in many wars, that i may give a clearer notion of this method of theirs, i shall enlarge a little in my account of the etruscan people. in italy, before the romans became supreme, the etruscans were very powerful, both by sea and land; and although we have no separate history of their affairs, we have some slight records left us of them, and some indications of their greatness. we know, for instance, that they planted a colony, to which they gave the name of hadria, on the coast of the upper sea; which colony became so renowned that it lent its name to the sea itself, which to this day by the latins is called the hadriatic. we know, too, that their arms were obeyed from the tiber to the foot of the mountains which enclose the greater part of the italian peninsula; although, two hundred years before rome grew to any great strength, they had lost their supremacy in the province now known as lombardy, of which the french had possessed themselves. for that people, whether driven by necessity, or attracted by the excellence of the fruits, and still more of the wine of italy, came there under their chief, bellovesus; and after defeating and expelling the inhabitants of the country, settled themselves therein, and there built many cities; calling the district gallia, after the name they then bore: and this territory they retained until they were subdued by the romans. these etruscans, therefore, living with one another on a footing of complete equality, when they sought to extend their power, followed that first method of which i have just now spoken. their state was made up of twelve cities, among which were chiusi, veii, friuli, arezzo, volterra, and the like, and their government was conducted in the form of a league. they could not, however, extend their conquests beyond italy; while even within the limits of italy, much territory remained unoccupied by them for reasons presently to be noticed. the second method is to provide yourself with allies or companions, taking heed, however, to retain in your own hands the chief command, the seat of government, and the titular supremacy. this was the method followed by the romans. the third method is to hold other states in direct subjection to you, and not merely associated with you as companions; and this was the plan pursued by the spartans and athenians. of these three methods, the last is wholly useless, as was seen in the case of the two states named, which came to ruin from no other cause than that they had acquired a dominion greater than they could maintain. for to undertake to govern cities by force, especially such cities as have been used to live in freedom, is a difficult and arduous task, in which you never can succeed without an army and that a great one. but to have such an army you must needs have associates who will help to swell the numbers of your own citizens. and because athens and sparta neglected this precaution, whatever they did was done in vain; whereas rome, which offers an instance of the second of the methods we are considering, by attending to this precaution reached a power that had no limit. and as she alone has lived in this way, so she alone has attained to this pitch of power. for joining with herself many states throughout italy as her companions, who in most respects lived with her on a footing of equality, while, as has been noted, always reserving to herself the seat of empire and the titular command, it came about that these states, without being aware of it, by their own efforts, and with their own blood, wrought out their own enslavement. for when rome began to send armies out of italy, for the purpose of reducing foreign kingdoms to provinces, and of subjugating nations who, being used to live under kings, were not impatient of her yoke, and who, receiving roman governors, and having been conquered by armies bearing the roman name, recognized no masters save the romans, those companions of rome who dwelt in italy suddenly found themselves surrounded by roman subjects, and weighed down by the greatness of the roman power; and when at last they came to perceive the mistake in which they had been living, it was too late to remedy it, so vast was the authority which rome had then obtained over foreign countries, and so great the resources which she possessed within herself; having by this time grown to be the mightiest and best-armed of states. so that although these her companions sought to avenge their wrongs by conspiring against her, they were soon defeated in the attempt, and remained in a worse plight than before, since they too became subjects and no longer associates. this method, then, as i have said, was followed by the romans alone; but no other plan can be pursued by a republic which desires to extend its power; experience having shown none other so safe and certain. the method which consists in forming leagues, of which i have spoken above as having been adopted by the etruscans, the achaians, and the etolians of old, and in our own days by the swiss, is the next best after that followed by the romans, for as in this way there can be no great extension of power, two advantages result: first, that you do not readily involve yourself in war; and, second, that you can easily preserve any little acquisition which you may make. the reason why you cannot greatly extend your power is, that as your league is made up of separate states with distinct seats of government, it is difficult for these to consult and resolve in concert. the same causes make these states careless to enlarge their territories; because acquisitions which have to be shared among many communities are less thought of than those made by a single republic which looks to enjoy them all to itself. again, since leagues govern through general councils, they must needs be slower in resolving than a nation dwelling within one frontier. moreover, we find from experience that this method has certain fixed limits beyond which there is no instance of its ever having passed; by which i mean that some twelve or fourteen communities may league themselves together, but will never seek to pass beyond that limit: for after associating themselves in such numbers as seem to them to secure their safety against all besides, they desire no further extension of their power, partly because no necessity compels them to extend, and partly because, for the reasons already given, they would find no profit in extending. for were they to seek extension they would have to follow one of two courses: either continuing to admit new members to their league, whose number must lead to confusion; or else making subjects, a course which they will avoid since they will see difficulty in making them, and no great good in having them. wherefore, when their number has so increased that their safety seems secured, they have recourse to two expedients: either receiving other states under their protection and engaging for their defence (in which way they obtain money from various quarters which they can easily distribute among themselves); or else hiring themselves out as soldiers to foreign states, and drawing pay from this or the other prince who employs them to carry out his enterprises; as we see done by the swiss at the present day, and as we read was done in ancient times by certain of those nations whom we have named above. to which we have a witness in titus livius, who relates that when philip of macedon came to treat with titus quintius flamininus, and while terms were being discussed in the presence of a certain etolian captain, this man coming to words with philip, the latter taunted him with greed and bad faith; telling him that the etolians were not ashamed to draw pay from one side, and then send their men to serve on the other; so that often the banner of etolia might be seen displayed in two hostile camps. we see, therefore, that the method of proceeding by leagues has always been of the same character, and has led always to the same results. we see, likewise, that the method which proceeds by reducing states to direct subjection has constantly proved a weak one, and produced insignificant gains; and that whenever these gains have passed a certain limit, ruin has ensued. and if the latter of these two methods be of little utility among armed states, among those that are unarmed, as is now the case with the republics of italy, it is worse than useless. we may conclude, therefore, that the true method was that followed by the romans; which is the more remarkable as we find none who adopted it before they did, and none who have followed it since. as for leagues, i know of no nations who have had recourse to them in recent times except the swiss and the suevians. but to bring my remarks on this head to an end, i affirm that all the various methods followed by the romans in conducting their affairs, whether foreign or domestic, so far from being imitated in our day, have been held of no account, some pronouncing them to be mere fables, some thinking them impracticable, others out of place and unprofitable; and so, abiding in this ignorance, we rest a prey to all who have chosen to invade our country. but should it seem difficult to tread in the footsteps of the romans, it ought not to appear so hard, especially for us tuscans, to imitate the tuscans of antiquity, who if, from the causes already assigned, they failed to establish an empire like that of rome, succeeded in acquiring in italy that degree of power which their method of acting allowed, and which they long preserved in security, with the greatest renown in arms and government, and the highest reputation for manners and religion. this power and this glory of theirs were first impaired by the gauls, and afterwards extinguished by the romans, and so utterly extinguished, that of the etruscan empire, so splendid two thousand years ago, we have at the present day barely a record. this it is which has led me to inquire whence this oblivion of things arises, a question of which i shall treat in the following chapter. chapter v.--_that changes in sects and tongues, and the happening of floods and pestilences, obliterate the memory of the past_. to those philosophers who will have it that the world has existed from all eternity, it were, i think, a good answer, that if what they say be true we ought to have record of a longer period than five thousand years; did it not appear that the memory of past times is blotted out by a variety of causes, some referable to men, and some to heaven. among the causes which have a human origin are the changes in sects and tongues; because when a new sect, that is to say a new religion, comes up, its first endeavour, in order to give itself reputation, is to efface the old; and should it so happen that the founders of the new religion speak another tongue, this may readily be effected. this we know from observing the methods which christianity has followed in dealing with the religion of the gentiles, for we find that it has abolished all the rites and ordinances of that worship, and obliterated every trace of the ancient belief. true, it has not succeeded in utterly blotting out our knowledge of things done by the famous men who held that belief; and this because the propagators of the new faith, retaining the latin tongue, were constrained to use it in writing the new law; for could they have written this in a new tongue, we may infer, having regard to their other persecutions, that no record whatever would have survived to us of past events. for any one who reads of the methods followed by saint gregory and the other heads of the christian religion, will perceive with what animosity they pursued all ancient memorials; burning the works of poets and historians; breaking images; and destroying whatsoever else afforded any trace of antiquity. so that if to this persecution a new language had been joined, it must soon have been found that everything was forgotten. we may believe, therefore, that what christianity has sought to effect against the sect of the gentiles, was actually effected by that sect against the religion which preceded theirs; and that, from the repeated changes of belief which have taken place in the course of five or six thousand years, the memory of what happened at a remote date has perished, or, if any trace of it remain, has come to be regarded as a fable to which no credit is due; like the chronicle of diodorus siculus, which, professing to give an account of the events of forty or fifty thousand years, is held, and i believe justly, a lying tale. as for the causes of oblivion which we may refer to heaven, they are those which make havoc of the human race, and reduce the population of certain parts of the world to a very small number. this happens by plague, famine, or flood, of which three the last is the most hurtful, as well because it is the most universal, as because those saved are generally rude and ignorant mountaineers, who possessing no knowledge of antiquity themselves, can impart none to those who come after them. or if among the survivors there chance to be one possessed of such knowledge, to give himself consequence and credit, he will conceal and pervert it to suit his private ends, so that to his posterity there will remain only so much as he may have been pleased to communicate, and no more. that these floods, plagues, and famines do in fact happen, i see no reason to doubt, both because we find all histories full of them, and recognize their effect in this oblivion of the past, and also because it is reasonable that such things should happen. for as when much superfluous matter has gathered in simple bodies, nature makes repeated efforts to remove and purge it away, thereby promoting the health of these bodies, so likewise as regards that composite body the human race, when every province of the world so teems with inhabitants that they can neither subsist where they are nor remove elsewhere, every region being equally crowded and over-peopled, and when human craft and wickedness have reached their highest pitch, it must needs come about that the world will purge herself in one or another of these three ways, to the end that men, becoming few and contrite, may amend their lives and live with more convenience. etruria, then, as has been said above, was at one time powerful, abounding in piety and valour, practising her own customs, and speaking her own tongue; but all this was effaced by the power of rome, so that, as i have observed already, nothing is left of her but the memory of a name. chapter vi.--_of the methods followed by the romans in making war_. having treated of the methods followed by the romans for increasing their power, we shall now go on to consider those which they used in making war; and in all they did we shall find how wisely they turned aside from the common path in order to render their progress to supreme greatness easy. whosoever makes war, whether from policy or ambition, means to acquire and to hold what he acquires, and to carry on the war he has undertaken in such a manner that it shall enrich and not impoverish his native country and state. it is necessary, therefore, whether for acquiring or holding, to consider how cost may be avoided, and everything done most advantageously for the public welfare. but whoever would effect all this, must take the course and follow the methods of the romans; which consisted, first of all, in making their wars, as the french say, _great and short_. for entering the field with strong armies, they brought to a speedy conclusion whatever wars they had with the latins, the samnites, or the etruscans. and if we take note of all the wars in which they were engaged, from the foundation of their city down to the siege of veii, all will be seen to have been quickly ended some in twenty, some in ten, and some in no more than six days. and this was their wont: so soon as war was declared they would go forth with their armies to meet the enemy and at once deliver battle. the enemy, on being routed, to save their country from pillage, very soon came to terms, when the romans would take from them certain portions of their territory. these they either assigned to particular persons, or made the seat of a colony, which being settled on the confines of the conquered country served as a defence to the roman frontier, to the advantage both of the colonists who had these lands given them, and of the roman people whose borders were thus guarded at no expense to themselves. and no other system of defence could have been at once so safe, so strong, and so effectual. for while the enemy were not actually in the field, this guard was sufficient; and when they came out in force to overwhelm the colony, the romans also went forth in strength and gave them battle; and getting the better of them, imposed harder terms than before, and so returned home. and in this way they came gradually to establish their name abroad, and to add to their power. these methods they continued to employ until they changed their system of warfare, which they did during the siege of veii; when to enable them to carry on a prolonged war, they passed a law for the payment of their soldiers, whom, up to that time they had not paid, nor needed to pay, because till then their wars had been of brief duration. nevertheless, while allowing pay to their soldiers that they might thus wage longer wars, and keep their armies longer in the field when employed on distant enterprises, they never departed from their old plan of bringing their campaigns to as speedy an end as place and circumstances allowed, nor ever ceased to plant colonies. their custom of terminating their wars with despatch, besides being natural to the romans, was strengthened by the ambition of their consuls, who, being appointed for twelve months only, six of which they had to spend in the city, were eager to bring their wars to an end as rapidly as they could, that they might enjoy the honours of a triumph. the usage of planting colonies was recommended by the great advantage and convenience which resulted from it. in dealing with the spoils of warfare their practice, no doubt, in a measure changed, so that in this respect they were not afterwards so liberal as they were at first; partly, because liberality did not seem so necessary when their soldiers were in receipt of pay; and, partly, because the spoils themselves being greater than before, they thought by their help so to enrich the public treasury as to be able to carry on their wars without taxing the city; and, in fact, by pursuing this course the public revenues were soon greatly augmented. the methods thus followed by the romans in dividing plunder and in planting colonies had, accordingly, this result, that whereas other less prudent princes and republics are impoverished by war, rome was enriched by it; nay, so far was the system carried, that no consul could hope for a triumph unless he brought back with him for the public treasury much gold and silver and spoils of every kind. by methods such as these, at one time bringing their wars to a rapid conclusion by invasion and actual defeat, at another wearing out an enemy by protracted hostilities, and again by concluding peace on advantageous terms, the romans continually grew richer and more powerful. chapter vii.--_of the quantity of land assigned by the romans to each colonist_. it would, i think, be difficult to fix with certainty how much land the romans allotted to each colonist, for my belief is that they gave more or less according to the character of the country to which they sent them. we may, however, be sure that in every instance, and to whatever country they were sent, the quantity of land assigned was not very large: first, because, these colonists being sent to guard the newly acquired country, by giving little land it became possible to send more men; and second because, as the romans lived frugally at home, it is unreasonable to suppose that they should wish their countrymen to be too well off abroad. and titus livius tells us that on the capture of veii, the romans sent thither a colony, allotting to each colonist three jugera and seven unciae of land, which, according to our measurement would be something under two acres. besides the above reasons, the romans may likely enough have thought that it was not so much the quantity of the land allotted as its careful cultivation that would make it suffice. it is very necessary, however, that every colony should have common pasturage where all may send their cattle to graze, as well as woods where they may cut fuel; for without such conveniences no colony can maintain itself. chapter viii.--_why certain nations leave their ancestral seats and overflow the countries of others_. having spoken above of the methods followed by the romans in making war, and related how the etruscans were attacked by the gauls, it seems to me not foreign to these topics to explain that of wars there are two kinds. one kind of war has its origin in the ambition of princes or republics who seek to extend their dominions. such were the wars waged by alexander the great, and by the romans, and such are those which we see every day carried on by one potentate against another. wars of this sort have their dangers, but do not utterly extirpate the inhabitants of a country; what the conqueror seeks being merely the submission of the conquered people, whom, generally speaking, he suffers to retain their laws, and always their houses and goods. the other species of war is when an entire people, with all the families of which it is made up, being driven out by famine or defeat, removes from its former seat, and goes in search of a new abode and a new country, not simply with the view to establish dominion over it, but to possess it as its own, and to expel or exterminate the former inhabitants. of this most terrible and cruel species of warfare sallust speaks at the end of his history of the war with jugurtha, where in mentioning that after the defeat of jugurtha the movement of the gauls into italy began to be noticed, he observes that "_in the wars of the romans with other nations the struggle was for mastery; but that always in their wars with the gauls the struggle on both sides was for life_." for a prince or commonwealth, when attacking another state, will be content to rid themselves of those only who are at the head of affairs; but an entire people, set in motion in the manner described, must destroy all who oppose them, since their object is to subsist on that whereon those whom they invade have hitherto subsisted. the romans had to pass through three of these desperate wars; the first being that in which their city was actually captured by those gauls who, as already mentioned, had previously taken lombardy from the etruscans and made it their seat, and for whose invasion titus livius has assigned two causes. first, that they were attracted, as i have said before, by the fruitful soil and by the wine of italy which they had not in gaul; second, that their population having multiplied so greatly that they could no longer find wherewithal to live on at home, the princes of their land decided that certain of their number should go forth to seek a new abode; and so deciding, chose as leaders of those who were to go, two gaulish chiefs, bellovesus and siccovesus; the former of whom came into italy while the latter passed into spain. from the immigration under bellovesus resulted the occupation of lombardy, and, subsequently, the first war of the gauls with rome. at a later date, and after the close of the first war with carthage, came the second gallic invasion, when more than two hundred thousand gauls perished in battle between piombino and pisa. the third of these wars broke out on the descent into italy of the todi and cimbri, who, after defeating several roman armies, were themselves defeated by marius. in these three most dangerous contests the arms of rome prevailed; but no ordinary valour was needed for their success. for we see afterwards, when the spirit of the romans had declined, and their armies had lost their former excellence, their supremacy was overthrown by men of the same race, that is to say by the goths, the vandals, and others like them, who spread themselves over the whole of the western empire. nations such as these, quit, as i have said, their native land, when forced by famine, or by defeat in domestic wars, to seek a new habitation elsewhere. when those thus driven forth are in large numbers, they violently invade the territories of other nations, slaughtering the inhabitants, seizing on their possessions, founding new kingdoms, and giving new names to provinces; as was done by moses, and by those tribes who overran the roman empire. for the new names which we find in italy and elsewhere, have no other origin than in their having been given by these new occupants; as when the countries formerly known as gallia cisalpina and gallia transalpina took the names of lombardy and france, from the lombards and the franks who settled themselves there. in the same way sclavonia was formerly known as illyria, hungary as pannonia, and england as britain; while many other provinces which it would be tedious to enumerate, have similarly changed their designations; as when the name judæa was given by moses to that part of syria of which he took possession. and since i have said above that nations such as those i have been describing, are often driven by wars from their ancestral homes, and forced to seek a new country elsewhere, i shall cite the instance of the maurusians, a people who anciently dwelt in syria, but hearing of the inroad of the hebrews, and thinking themselves unable to resist them, chose rather to seek safety in flight than to perish with their country in a vain effort to defend it. for which reason, removing with their families, they went to africa, where, after driving out the native inhabitants, they took up their abode; and although they could not defend their own country, were able to possess themselves of a country belonging to others. and procopius, who writes the history of the war which belisarius conducted against those vandals who seized on africa, relates, that on certain pillars standing in places where the maurusians once dwelt, he had read inscriptions in these words: "_we maurusians who fled before joshua, the robber, the son of nun_;"[ ] giving us to know the cause of their quitting syria. be this as it may, nations thus driven forth by a supreme necessity, are, if they be in great number, in the highest degree dangerous, and cannot be successfully withstood except by a people who excel in arms. when those constrained to abandon their homes are not in large numbers, they are not so dangerous as the nations of whom i have been speaking, since they cannot use the same violence, but must trust to their address to procure them a habitation; and, after procuring it, must live with their neighbours as friends and companions, as we find Æneas, dido, the massilians, and others like them to have lived; all of whom contrived to maintain themselves in the districts in which they settled, by securing the good will of the neighbouring nations. almost all the great emigrations of nations have been and continue to be from the cold and barren region of scythia, because from the population there being excessive, and the soil ill able to support them, they are forced to quit their home, many causes operating to drive them forth and none to keep them back. and if, for the last five hundred years, it has not happened that any of these nations has actually overrun another country, there are various reasons to account for it. first, the great clearance which that region made of its inhabitants during the decline of the roman empire, when more than thirty nations issued from it in succession; and next, the circumstance that the countries of germany and hungary, whence also these nations came, are now so much improved that men can live there in comfort, and consequently are not constrained to shift their habitations. besides which, since these countries are occupied by a very warlike race, they serve as a sort of bulwark to keep back the neighbouring scythians, who for this reason do not venture to attack them, nor attempt to force a passage. nevertheless, movements on a great scale have oftentimes been begun by the tartars, and been at once withstood by the hungarians and poles, whose frequent boast it is, that but for them, italy and the church would more than once have felt the weight of the tartar arms. of the nations of whom i have been speaking, i shall now say no more. [footnote : nos maurusii qui fugimus a facie jesu latronis filii navae. _procop. hist. bell. vand. ii._] chapter ix.--_of the causes which commonly give rise to wars between states_. the occasion which led to war between the romans and samnites, who for long had been in league with one another, is of common occurrence in all powerful states, being either brought about by accident, or else purposely contrived by some one who would set war a-foot. as between the romans and the samnites, the occasion of war was accidental. for in making war upon the sidicinians and afterwards on the campanians, the samnites had no thought of involving themselves with the romans. but the campanians being overpowered, and, contrary to the expectation of romans and samnites alike, resorting to rome for aid, the romans, on whose protection they threw themselves, were forced to succour them as dependants, and to accept a war which, it seemed to them, they could not with honour decline. for though they might have thought it unreasonable to be called on to defend the campanians as friends against their own friends the samnites, it seemed to them shameful not to defend them as subjects, or as a people who had placed themselves under their protection. for they reasoned that to decline their defence would close the gate against all others who at any future time might desire to submit themselves to their power. and, accordingly, since glory and empire, and not peace, were the ends which they always had in view, it became impossible for them to refuse this protectorship. a similar circumstance gave rise to the first war with the carthaginians, namely the protectorate assumed by the romans of the citizens of messina in sicily, and this likewise came about by chance. but the second war with carthage was not the result of chance. for hannibal the carthaginian general attacked the saguntans, who were the friends of rome in spain, not from any desire to injure them, but in order to set the arms of rome in motion, and so gain an opportunity of engaging the romans in a war, and passing on into italy. this method of picking a quarrel is constantly resorted to by powerful states when they are bound by scruples of honour or like considerations. for if i desire to make war on a prince with whom i am under an ancient and binding treaty, i shall find some colour or pretext for attacking the friend of that prince, very well knowing that when i attack his friend, either the prince will resent it, when my scheme for engaging him in war will be realized; or that, should he not resent it, his weakness or baseness in not defending one who is under his protection will be made apparent; either of which alternatives will discredit him, and further my designs. we are to note, therefore, in connection with this submission of the campanians, what has just now been said as to provoking another power to war; and also the remedy open to a state which, being unequal to its own defence, is prepared to go all lengths to ruin its assailant,--that remedy being to give itself up unreservedly to some one whom it selects for its defender; as the campanians gave themselves up to the romans, and as the florentines gave themselves up to king robert of naples, who, after refusing to defend them as his friends against castruccio of lucca by whom they were hard pressed, defended them as his subjects. chapter x.--_that contrary to the vulgar opinion, money is not the sinews of war_. since any man may begin a war at his pleasure, but cannot at his pleasure bring it to a close, a prince before he engages in any warlike enterprise ought to measure his strength and govern himself accordingly. but he must be prudent enough not to deceive himself as to his strength, which he will always do, if he measure it by money, by advantage of position, or by the good-will of his subjects, while he is unprovided with an army of his own. these are things which may swell your strength but do not constitute it, being in themselves null and of no avail without an army on which you can depend. without such an army no amount of money will meet your wants, the natural strength of your country will not protect you, and the fidelity and attachment of your subjects will not endure, since it is impossible that they should continue true to you when you cannot defend them. lakes, and mountains, and the most inaccessible strongholds, where valiant defenders are wanting, become no better than the level plain; and money, so far from being a safeguard, is more likely to leave you a prey to your enemy; since nothing can be falser than the vulgar opinion which affirms it to be the sinews of war. this opinion is put forward by quintus curtius, where, in speaking of the war between antipater the macedonian and the king of sparta, he relates that the latter, from want of money, was constrained to give battle and was defeated; whereas, could he have put off fighting for a few days the news of alexander's death would have reached greece, and he might have had a victory without a battle. but lacking money, and fearing that on that account his soldiers might desert him, he was forced to hazard an engagement. it was for this reason that quintus curtius declared money to be the sinews of war, a maxim every day cited and acted upon by princes less wise than they should be. for building upon this, they think it enough for their defence to have laid up great treasures; not reflecting that were great treasures all that is needed for victory, darius of old had conquered alexander, the greeks the romans, and in our own times charles of burgundy the swiss; while the pope and the florentines together would have had little difficulty in defeating francesco maria, nephew of pope julius ii., in the recent war of urbino; and yet, in every one of these instances, the victory remained with him who held the sinews of war to consist, not in money, but in good soldiers. croesus, king of lydia, after showing solon the athenian much besides, at last displayed to him the boundless riches of his treasure-house, and asked him what he thought of his power. whereupon solon answered that he thought him no whit more powerful in respect of these treasures, for as war is made with iron and not with gold, another coming with more iron might carry off his gold. after the death of alexander the great a tribe of gauls, passing through greece on their way into asia, sent envoys to the king of macedonia to treat for terms of accord; when the king, to dismay them by a display of his resources, showed them great store of gold and silver. but these barbarians, when they saw all this wealth, in their greed to possess it, though before they had looked on peace as settled, broke off negotiations; and thus the king was ruined by those very treasures he had amassed for his defence. in like manner, not many years ago, the venetians, with a full treasury, lost their whole dominions without deriving the least advantage from their wealth. i maintain, therefore, that it is not gold, as is vulgarly supposed, that is the sinews of war, but good soldiers; or while gold by itself will not gain you good soldiers, good soldiers may readily get you gold. had the romans chosen to make war with gold rather than with iron all the treasures of the earth would not have sufficed them having regard to the greatness of their enterprises and the difficulties they had to overcome in carrying them out. but making their wars with iron they never felt any want of gold; for those who stood in fear of them brought gold into their camp. and supposing it true that the spartan king was forced by lack of money to risk the chances of a battle, it only fared with him in respect of money as it has often fared with others from other causes; since we see that where an army is in such straits for want of victual that it must either fight or perish by famine, it will always fight, as being the more honourable course and that on which fortune may in some way smile. so, too, it has often happened that a captain, seeing his enemy about to be reinforced, has been obliged either to trust to fortune and at once deliver battle, or else, waiting till the reinforcement is complete, to fight then, whether he will or no, and at whatever disadvantage. we find also, as in the case of hasdrubal when beset, in the march of ancona, at once by claudius nero and by the other roman consul, that a captain, when he must either fight or fly, will always fight, since it will seem to him that by this course, however hazardous, he has at least a chance of victory, while by the other his ruin is certain. there are many circumstances, therefore, which may force a captain to give battle contrary to his intention, among which the want of money may sometimes be one. but this is no ground for pronouncing money to be the sinews of war, any more than those other things from the want of which men are reduced to the same necessity. once more, therefore, i repeat that not gold but good soldiers constitute the sinews of war. money, indeed, is most necessary in a secondary place; but this necessity good soldiers will always be able to supply, since it is as impossible that good soldiers should lack money, as that money by itself should secure good soldiers. and that what i say is true is shown by countless passages in history. when pericles persuaded the athenians to declare war against the whole peloponnesus, assuring them that their dexterity, aided by their wealth, was sure to bring them off victorious, the athenians, though for a while they prospered in this war, in the end were overpowered, the prudent counsels and good soldiers of sparta proving more than a match for the dexterity and wealth of athens. but, indeed, there can be no better witness to the truth of my contention than titus livius himself. for in that passage of his history wherein he discusses whether if alexander the great had invaded italy, he would have succeeded in vanquishing the romans, three things are noted by him as essential to success in war; to wit, many and good soldiers, prudent captains, and favourable fortune; and after examining whether the romans or alexander would have had the advantage in each of these three particulars, he arrives at his conclusion without any mention of money. the campanians, therefore, when asked by the sidicinians to arm in their behalf, must have measured their strength by wealth and not by soldiers; for after declaring in their favour and suffering two defeats, to save themselves they were obliged to become tributary to rome. chapter xi.--_that it were unwise to ally yourself a prince who has reputation rather than strength._ to mark the mistake made by the sidicinians in trusting to the protection of the campanians, and by the campanians in supposing themselves able to protect the sidicinians, titus livius could not have expressed himself in apter words than by saying, that "_the campanians rather lent their name to the sidicinians than furnished any substantial aid towards their defence._" here we have to note that alliances with princes who from dwelling at a distance have no facility, or who from their own embarrassments, or from other causes, have no ability to render aid, afford rather reputation than protection to those who put their trust in them. as was the case in our own times with the florentines, when, in the year , they were attacked by the pope and the king of naples. for being friends of the french king they drew from that friendship more reputation than help. the same would be the case with that prince who should engage in any enterprise in reliance on the emperor maximilian, his being one of those friendships which, in the words of our historian, _nomen magis quam praesidium adferunt_. on this occasion, therefore, the campanians were misled by imagining themselves stronger than they really were. for often, from defect of judgment, men take upon them to defend others, when they have neither skill nor ability to defend themselves. of which we have a further instance in the tarentines, who, when the roman and samnite armies were already drawn up against one another for battle, sent messengers to the roman consul to acquaint him that they desired peace between the two nations, and would themselves declare war against whichsoever of the two first began hostilities. the consul, laughing at their threats, in the presence of the messengers, ordered the signal for battle to sound, and bade his army advance to meet the enemy; showing the tarentines by acts rather than words what answer he thought their message deserved. having spoken in the present chapter of unwise courses followed by princes for defending others, i shall speak in the next, of the methods they follow in defending themselves. chapter xii.--_whether when invasion is imminent it is better to anticipate or to await it._ i have often heard it disputed by men well versed in military affairs, whether, when there are two princes of nearly equal strength, and the bolder of the two proclaims war upon the other, it is better for that other to await attack within his own frontier, or to march into the enemy's country and fight him there; and i have heard reasons given in favour of each of these courses. they who maintain that an enemy should be attacked in his own country, cite the advice given by croesus to cyrus, when the latter had come to the frontiers of the massagetæ to make war on that people. for word being sent by tomyris their queen that cyrus might, at his pleasure, either enter her dominions, where she would await him, or else allow her to come and meet him; and the matter being debated, croesus, contrary to the opinion of other advisers, counselled cyrus to go forward and meet the queen, urging that were he to defeat her at a distance from her kingdom, he might not be able to take it from her, since she would have time to repair her strength; whereas, were he to defeat her within her own dominions, he could follow her up on her flight, and, without giving her time to recover herself, deprive her of her state. they cite also the advice given by hannibal to antiochus, when the latter was meditating a war on the romans. for hannibal told him that the romans could not be vanquished except in italy, where an invader might turn to account the arms and resources of their friends, whereas any one making war upon them out of italy, and leaving that country in their hands, would leave them an unfailing source whence to draw whatever reinforcement they might need; and finally, he told him, that the romans might more easily be deprived of rome than of their empire, and of italy more easily than of any of their other provinces. they likewise instance agathocles, who, being unequal to support a war at home, invaded the carthaginians, by whom he was being attacked, and reduced them to sue for peace. they also cite scipio, who to shift the war from italy, carried it into africa. those who hold a contrary opinion contend that to have your enemy at a disadvantage you must get him away from his home, alleging the case of the athenians, who while they carried on the war at their convenience in their own territory, retained their superiority; but when they quitted that territory, and went with their armies to sicily, lost their freedom. they cite also the fable of the poets wherein it is figured that antæus, king of libya, being assailed by the egyptian hercules, could not be overcome while he awaited his adversary within the bounds of his own kingdom; but so soon as he was withdrawn from these by the craft of hercules, lost his kingdom and his life. whence the fable runs that antæus, being son to the goddess earth, when thrown to the ground drew fresh strength from the earth, his mother; and that hercules, perceiving this, held him up away from the earth. recent opinions are likewise cited as favouring this view. every one knows how ferrando, king of naples, was in his day accounted a most wise prince; and how two years before his death there came a rumour that charles viii of france was meditating an attack upon him; and how, after making great preparations for his defence, he sickened; and being on the point of death, among other counsels left his son alfonso this advice, that nothing in the world should tempt him to pass out of his own territory, but to await the enemy within his frontier, and with his forces unimpaired; a warning disregarded by alfonso, who sent into romagna an army, which he lost, and with it his whole dominions, without a battle. other arguments on both sides of the question in addition to those already noticed, are as follows: he who attacks shows higher courage than he who stands on his defence, and this gives his army greater confidence. moreover, by attacking your enemy you deprive him of many opportunities for using his resources, since he can receive no aid from subjects who have been stripped of their possessions; and when an enemy is at his gates, a prince must be careful how he levies money and imposes taxes; so that, as hannibal said, the springs which enable a country to support a war come to be dried up. again, the soldiers of an invader, finding themselves in a foreign land, are under a stronger necessity to fight, and necessity, as has often been said, is the parent of valour. on the other hand, it may be argued that there are many advantages to be gained by awaiting the attack of your enemy. for without putting yourself much about, you may harass him by intercepting his supplies, whether of victual or of whatsoever else an army stands in need: from your better knowledge of the country you can impede his movements; and because men muster more willingly to defend their homes than to go on distant expeditions, you can meet him with more numerous forces, if defeated you can more easily repair your strength, because the bulk of your army, finding shelter at hand, will be able to save itself, and your reserves will have no distance to come. in this way you can use your whole strength without risking your entire fortunes; whereas, in leaving your country, you risk your entire fortunes, without putting forth your whole strength. nay, we find that to weaken an adversary still further, some have suffered him to make a march of several days into their country, and then to capture certain of their towns, that by leaving garrisons in these, he might reduce the numbers of his army, and so be attacked at greater disadvantage. but now to speak my own mind on the matter, i think we should make this distinction. either you have your country strongly defended, as the romans had and the swiss have theirs, or, like the carthaginians of old and the king of france and the italians at the present day, you have it undefended. in the latter case you must keep the enemy at a distance from your country, for as your strength lies not in men but in money, whenever the supply of money is cut off you are undone, and nothing so soon cuts off this supply as a war of invasion. of which we have example in the carthaginians, who, while their country was free from invasion, were able by means of their great revenues to carry on war in italy against the romans, but when they were invaded could not defend themselves even against agathocles. the florentines, in like manner, could make no head against castruccio, lord of lucca, when he attacked them in their own country; and to obtain protection, were compelled to yield themselves up to king robert of naples. and yet, after castruccio's death, these same florentines were bold enough to attack the duke of milan in his own country, and strong enough to strip him of his dominions. such valour did they display in distant wars, such weakness in those that were near. but when a country is armed as rome was and switzerland now is, the closer you press it, the harder it is to subdue; because such states can assemble a stronger force to resist attack than for attacking others. nor does the great authority of hannibal move me in this instance, since resentment and his own advantage might lead him to speak as he spoke to antiochus. for had the romans suffered in gaul, and within the same space of time, those three defeats at the hands of hannibal which they suffered in italy, it must have made an end of them; since they could not have turned the remnants of their armies to account as they did in italy, not having the same opportunity for repairing their strength; nor could they have met their enemy with such numerous armies. for we never find them sending forth a force of more than fifty thousand men for the invasion of any province; whereas, in defending their own country against the inroad of the gauls at the end of the first carthaginian war, we hear of them bringing some eighteen hundred thousand men into the field; and their failure to vanquish the gauls in lombardy as they had vanquished those in tuscany arose from their inability to lead a great force so far against a numerous enemy, or to encounter him with the same advantages. in germany the cimbrians routed a roman army who had there no means to repair their disaster; but when they came into italy, the romans could collect their whole strength, and destroy them. out of their native country, whence they can bring no more than thirty or forty thousand men, the swiss may readily be defeated; but in their own country, where they can assemble a hundred thousand, they are well-nigh invincible. in conclusion, therefore, i repeat that the prince who has his people armed and trained for war, should always await a great and dangerous war at home, and never go forth to meet it. but that he whose subjects are unarmed, and whose country is not habituated to war, should always carry the war to as great a distance as he can from home. for in this way each will defend himself in the best manner his means admit. chapter xiii.--_that men rise from humble to high fortunes rather by fraud than by force._ i hold it as most certain that men seldom if ever rise to great place from small beginnings without using fraud or force, unless, indeed, they be given, or take by inheritance the place to which some other has already come. force, however, will never suffice by itself to effect this end, while fraud often will, as any one may plainly see who reads the lives of philip of macedon, agathocles of sicily, and many others like them, who from the lowest or, at any rate, from very low beginnings, rose either to sovereignty or to the highest command. this necessity for using deceit is taught by xenophon in his life of cyrus; for the very first expedition on which cyrus is sent, against the king of armenia, is seen to teem with fraud; and it is by fraud, and not by force, that he is represented as having acquired his kingdom; so that the only inference to be drawn from his conduct, as xenophon describes it, is, that the prince who would accomplish great things must have learned how to deceive. xenophon, moreover, represents his hero as deceiving his maternal grandsire cyaxares, king of the medians, in a variety of ways; giving it to be understood that without such deceit he could not have reached the greatness to which he came. nor do i believe that any man born to humble fortunes can be shown to have attained great station, by sheer and open force, whereas this has often been effected by mere fraud, such as that used by giovanni galeazzo to deprive his uncle bernabo of the state and government of lombardy. the same arts which princes are constrained to use at the outset of their career, must also be used by commonwealths, until they have grown powerful enough to dispense with them and trust to strength alone. and because rome at all times, whether from chance or choice, followed all such methods as are necessary to attain greatness, in this also she was not behindhand. and, to begin with, she could have used no greater fraud than was involved in her method above noticed, of making for herself companions; since under this name she made for herself subjects, for such the latins and the other surrounding nations, in fact, became. for availing herself at first of their arms to subdue neighbouring countries and gain herself reputation as a state, her power was so much increased by these conquests that there was none whom she could not overcome. but the latins never knew that they were enslaved until they saw the samnites twice routed and forced to make terms. this success, while it added greatly to the fame of the romans among princes at a distance, who were thereby made familiar with the roman name though not with the roman arms, bred at the same time jealousy and distrust among those who, like the latins, both saw and felt these arms; and such were the effects of this jealousy and distrust, that not the latins only but all the roman colonies in latium, along with the campanians whom a little while before the romans had defended leagued themselves together against the authority of rome. this war was set on foot by the latins in the manner in which, as i have already explained, most wars are begun, not by directly attacking the romans, but by defending the sidicinians against the samnites who were making war upon them with the permission of the romans. and that it was from their having found out the crafty policy of the romans that the latins were led to take this step, is plain from the words which titus livius puts in the mouth of annius setinus the latin prætor, who, in addressing the latin council, is made to say, "_for if even now we can put up with slavery under the disguise of an equal alliance, etc_" we see, therefore, that the romans, from the time they first began to extend their power, were not unfamiliar with the art of deceiving, an art always necessary for those who would mount to great heights from low beginnings; and which is the less to be condemned when, as in the case of the romans, it is skilfully concealed. chapter xiv.--_that men often err in thinking they can subdue pride by humility._ you shall often find that humility is not merely of no service to you, but is even hurtful, especially when used in dealing with insolent men, who, through envy or other like cause, have conceived hatred against you. proof whereof is supplied by our historian where he explains the causes of this war between the romans and the latins. for on the samnites complaining to the romans that the latins had attacked them, the romans, desiring not to give the latins ground of offence, would not forbid them proceeding with the war. but the endeavour to avoid giving offence to the latins only served to increase their confidence, and led them the sooner to declare their hostility. of which we have evidence in the language used by the same latin prætor, annius setinus, at the aforesaid council, when he said:--"_you have tried their patience by refusing them, soldiers. who doubts but that they are offended? still they have put up with the affront. they have heard that we are assembling an army against their allies the samnites; and yet they have not stirred from their city. whence this astonishing forbearance, but from their knowing our strength and their own weakness_?" which words give us clearly to understand how much the patience of the romans increased the arrogance of the latins. a prince, therefore, should never stoop from his dignity, nor should he if he would have credit for any concession make it voluntarily, unless he be able or believe himself able to withhold it. for almost always when matters have come to such a pass that you cannot give way with credit it is better that a thing be taken from you by force than yielded through fear of force. for if you yield through fear and to escape war, the chances are that you do not escape it; since he to whom, out of manifest cowardice you make this concession, will not rest content, but will endeavour to wring further concessions from you, and making less account of you, will only be the more kindled against you. at the same time you will find your friends less zealous on your behalf, since to them you will appear either weak or cowardly. but if, so soon as the designs of your enemy are disclosed, you at once prepare to resist though your strength be inferior to his, he will begin to think more of you, other neighbouring princes will think more; and many will be willing to assist you, on seeing you take up arms, who, had you relinquished hope and abandoned yourself to despair, would never have stirred a finger to save you. the above is to be understood as applying where you have a single adversary only; but should you have several, it will always be a prudent course, even after war has been declared, to restore to some one of their number something you have of his, so as to regain his friendship and detach him from the others who have leagued themselves against you. chapter xv.--that weak states are always dubious in their resolves; and that tardy resolves are always hurtful. touching this very matter, and with regard to these earliest beginnings of war between the latins and the romans, it may be noted, that in all our deliberations it behoves us to come quickly to a definite resolve, and not to remain always in dubiety and suspense. this is plainly seen in connection with the council convened by the latins when they thought to separate themselves from the romans. for the romans suspecting the hostile humour wherewith the latins were infected, in order to learn how things really stood, and see whether they could not win back the malcontents without recourse to arms, gave them to know that they must send eight of their citizens to rome, as they had occasion to consult with them. on receiving which message the latins, knowing that they had done many things contrary to the wishes of the romans, called a council to determine who of their number should be sent, and to instruct them what they were to say. but annius, their prætor, being present in the council when these matters were being discussed, told them "_that he thought it of far greater moment for them to consider what they were to do than what they were to say; for when their resolves were formed, it would be easy to clothe them in fit words_." this, in truth, was sound advice and such as every prince and republic should lay to heart. because, where there is doubt and uncertainty as to what we may decide on doing, we know not how to suit our words to our conduct; whereas, with our minds made up, and the course we are to follow fixed, it is an easy matter to find words to declare our resolves. i have noticed this point the more readily, because i have often found such uncertainty hinder the public business of our own republic, to its detriment and discredit. and in all matters of difficulty, wherein courage is needed for resolving, this uncertainty will always be met with, whenever those who have to deliberate and decide are weak. not less mischievous than doubtful resolves are those which are late and tardy, especially when they have to be made in behalf of a friend. for from their lateness they help none, and hurt ourselves. tardy resolves are due to want of spirit or want of strength, or to the perversity of those who have to determine, who being moved by a secret desire to overthrow the government, or to carry out some selfish purpose of their own, suffer no decision to be come to, but only thwart and hinder. whereas, good citizens, even when they see the popular mind to be bent on dangerous courses, will never oppose the adoption of a fixed plan, more particularly in matters which do not brook delay. after hieronymus, the syracusan tyrant, was put to death, there being at that time a great war between the romans and the carthaginians, the citizens of syracuse fell to disputing among themselves with which nation they should take part; and so fierce grew the controversy between the partisans of the two alliances, that no course could be agreed on, and they took part with neither; until apollonides, one of the foremost of the syracusan citizens, told them in a speech replete with wisdom, that neither those who inclined to hold by the romans, nor those who chose rather to side with the carthaginians, were deserving of blame; but that what was utterly to be condemned was doubt and delay in taking one side or other; for from such uncertainty he clearly foresaw the ruin of their republic; whereas, by taking a decided course, whatever it might be, some good might come. now titus livius could not show more clearly than he does in this passage, the mischief which results from resting in suspense. he shows it, likewise, in the case of the lavinians, of whom he relates, that being urged by the latins to aid them against rome, they were so long in making up their minds, that when the army which they at last sent to succour the latins was issuing from their gates, word came that the latins were defeated. whereupon millionius, their prætor, said, "_with the romans this short march will cost us dear_." but had the lavinians resolved at once either to grant aid or to refuse it, taking a latter course they would not have given offence to the romans, taking the former, and rendering timely help, they and the latins together might have had a victory. but by delay they stood to lose in every way, as the event showed. this example, had it been remembered by the florentines, might have saved them from all that loss and vexation which they underwent at the hands of the french, at the time king louis xii. of france came into italy against lodovico, duke of milan. for when louis first proposed to pass through tuscany he met with no objection from the florentines, whose envoys at his court arranged with him that they should stand neutral, while the king, on his arrival in italy, was to maintain their government and take them under his protection; a month's time being allowed the republic to ratify these terms. but certain persons, who, in their folly, favoured the cause of lodovico, delayed this ratification until the king was already on the eve of victory; when the florentines suddenly becoming eager to ratify, the king would not accept their ratification, perceiving their consent to be given under constraint and not of their own good-will. this cost the city of florence dear, and went near to lose her freedom, whereof she was afterwards deprived on another like occasion. and the course taken by the florentines was the more to be blamed in that it was of no sort of service to duke lodovico, who, had he been victorious, would have shown the florentines many more signs of his displeasure than did the king. although the hurt which results to republics from weakness of this sort has already been discussed in another chapter, nevertheless, since an opportunity offered for touching upon it again, i have willingly availed myself of it, because to me it seems a matter of which republics like ours should take special heed. chapter xvi.--_that the soldiers of our days depart widely from the methods of ancient warfare._ in all their wars with other nations, the most momentous battle ever fought by the romans, was that which they fought with the latins when torquatus and decius were consuls. for it may well be believed that as by the loss of that battle the latins became subject to the romans, so the romans had they not prevailed must have become subject to the latins. and titus livius is of this opinion, since he represents the armies as exactly equal in every respect, in discipline and in valour, in numbers and in obstinacy, the only difference he draws being, that of the two armies the romans had the more capable commanders. we find, however, two circumstances occurring in the conduct of this battle, the like of which never happened before, and seldom since, namely, that to give steadiness to the minds of their soldiers, and render them obedient to the word of command and resolute to fight, one of the consuls put himself, and the other his son, to death. the equality which titus livius declares to have prevailed in these two armies, arose from this, that having long served together they used the same language, discipline, and arms; that in disposing their men for battle they followed the same system; and that the divisions and officers of their armies bore the same names. it was necessary, therefore, that as they were of equal strength and valour, something extraordinary should take place to render the courage of the one army more stubborn and unflinching than that of the other, it being on this stubbornness, as i have already said, that victory depends. for while this temper is maintained in the minds of the combatants they will never turn their backs on their foe. and that it might endure longer in the minds of the romans than of the latins, partly chance, and partly the valour of the consuls caused it to fall out that torquatus slew his son, and decius died by his own hand. in pointing out this equality of strength, titus livius takes occasion to explain the whole system followed by the romans in the ordering of their armies and in disposing them for battle; and as he has treated the subject at length, i need not go over the same ground, and shall touch only on what i judge in it most to deserve attention, but, being overlooked by all the captains of our times, has led to disorder in many armies and in many battles. from this passage of titus livius, then, we learn that the roman army had three principal divisions, or battalions as we might now call them, of which they named the first _hastati_, the second _principes_, and the third _triarii_, to each of which cavalry were attached. in arraying an army for battle they set the _hastati_ in front. directly behind them, in the second rank, they placed the _principes_; and in the third rank of the same column, the _triarii_. the cavalry of each of these three divisions they disposed to the right and left of the division to which it belonged; and to these companies of horse, from their form and position, they gave the name wings (_alæ_), from their appearing like the two wings of the main body of the army. the first division, the _hastati_, which was in front, they drew up in close order to enable it to withstand and repulse the enemy. the second division, the _principes_, since it was not to be engaged from the beginning, but was meant to succour the first in case that were driven in, was not formed in close order but kept in open file, so that it might receive the other into its ranks whenever it was broken and forced to retire. the third division, that, namely, of the _triarii_, had its ranks still more open than those of the second, so that, if occasion required, it might receive the first two divisions of the _hastati_ and _principes_. these divisions, therefore, being drawn up in this order, the engagement began, and if the _hastati_ were overpowered and driven back, they retired within the loose ranks of the _principes_, when both these divisions, being thus united into one, renewed the conflict. if these, again, were routed and forced back, they retreated within the open ranks of the _triarii_, and all three divisions, forming into one, once more renewed the fight, in which, if they were overpowered, since they had no further means of recruiting their strength, they lost the battle. and because whenever this last division, of the _triarii_, had to be employed, the army was in jeopardy, there arose the proverb, "_res redacta est ad triarios_," equivalent to our expression of _playing a last stake_. the captains of our day, as they have abandoned all the other customs of antiquity, and pay no heed to any part of the ancient discipline, so also have discarded this method of disposing their men, though it was one of no small utility. for to insure the defeat of a commander who so arranges his forces as to be able thrice during an engagement to renew his strength, fortune must thrice declare against him, and he must be matched with an adversary able three times over to defeat him; whereas he whose sole chance of success lies in his surviving the first onset, as is the case with all the armies of christendom at the present day, may easily be vanquished, since any slight mishap, and the least failure in the steadiness of his men, may deprive him of victory. and what takes from our armies the capacity to renew their strength is, that provision is now no longer made for one division being received into the ranks of another, which happens because at present an army is arranged for battle in one or other of two imperfect methods. for either its divisions are placed side by side, so as to form a line of great width but of no depth or solidity; or if, to strengthen it, it be drawn up in columns after the fashion of the roman armies, should the front line be broken, no provision having been made for its being received by the second, it is thrown into complete disorder, and both divisions fall to pieces. for if the front line be driven back, it jostles the second, if the second line endeavour to advance, the first stands in its way: and thus, the first driving against the second, and the second against the third, such confusion follows that often the most trifling accident will cause the ruin of an entire army. at the battle of ravenna, where m. de foix, the french commander, was slain, although according to modern notions this was a well-fought field, both the french and the spanish armies were drawn up in the first of the faulty methods above described; that is to say, each army advanced with the whole of its battalions side by side, so that each presented a single front much wider than deep; this being always the plan followed by modern armies when, as at ravenna, the ground is open. for knowing the disorder they fall into on retreat, forming themselves in a single line, they endeavour, as i have said, as much as possible to escape confusion by extending their front. but where the ground confines them they fall at once into the disorder spoken of, without an effort to prevent it. troops traversing an enemy's country, whether to pillage or carry out any other operation of war, are liable to fall into the same disorder; and at s. regolo in the pisan territory, and at other places where the florentines were beaten by the pisans during the war which followed on the revolt of pisa after the coming of charles of france into italy, our defeat was due to no other cause than the behaviour of our own cavalry, who being posted in front, and being repulsed by the enemy, fell back on the infantry and threw them into confusion, whereupon the whole army took to flight; and messer ciriaco del borgo, the veteran leader of the florentine foot, has often declared in my presence that he had never been routed by any cavalry save those who were fighting on his side. for which reason the swiss, who are the greatest proficients in modern warfare, when serving with the french, make it their first care to place themselves on their flank, so that the cavalry of their friends, if repulsed, may not throw them into disorder. but although these matters seem easy to understand and not difficult to put in practice, none has yet been found among the commanders of our times, who attempted to imitate the ancients or to correct the moderns. for although these also have a tripartite division of their armies into van-guard, main-body, and rear-guard, the only use they make of it is in giving orders when their men are in quarters; whereas on active service it rarely happens that all divisions are not equally exposed to the same onset. and because many, to excuse their ignorance, will have it that the destructive fire of artillery forbids our employing at the present day many of the tactics used by the ancients, i will discuss this question in the following chapter, and examine whether artillery does in fact prevent us from using the valiant methods of antiquity. chapter xvii.--_what importance the armies of the present day should allow to artillery; and whether the commonly received opinion concerning it be just._ looking to the number of pitched battles, or what are termed by the french _journées_, and by the italians _fatti d'arme_, fought by the romans at divers times, i am led further to examine the generally received opinion, that had artillery been in use in their day, the romans would not have been allowed, or at least not with the same ease, to subjugate provinces and make other nations their tributaries, and could never have spread their power in the astonishing way they did. for it is said that by reason of these fire-arms men can no longer use or display their personal valour as they could of old; that there is greater difficulty now than there was in former times in joining battle; that the tactics followed then cannot be followed now; and that in time all warfare must resolve itself into a question of artillery. judging it not out of place to inquire whether these opinions are sound, and how far artillery has added to or taken from the strength of armies, and whether its use lessens or increases the opportunities for a good captain to behave valiantly, i shall at once address myself to the first of the averments noticed above, namely, that the armies of the ancient romans could not have made the conquests they did, had artillery then been in use. to this i answer by saying that, since war is made for purposes either of offence or defence, we have first to see in which of these two kinds of warfare artillery gives the greater advantage or inflicts the greater hurt. now, though something might be said both ways, i nevertheless believe that artillery is beyond comparison more hurtful to him who stands on the defensive than to him who attacks. for he who defends himself must either do so in a town or in a fortified camp. if within a town, either the town will be a small one, as fortified towns commonly are, or it will be a great one. in the former case, he who is on the defensive is at once undone. for such is the shock of artillery that there is no wall so strong that in a few days it will not batter down, when, unless those within have ample room to withdraw behind covering works and trenches, they must be beaten; it being impossible for them to resist the assault of an enemy who forces an entrance through the breaches in their walls. nor will any artillery a defender may have be of any service to him; since it is an established axiom that where men are able to advance in numbers and rapidly, artillery is powerless to check them. for this reason, in storming towns the furious assaults of the northern nations prove irresistible, whereas the attacks of our italian troops, who do not rush on in force, but advance to the assault in small knots of skirmishers (_scaramouches_, as they are fitly named), may easily be withstood. those who advance in such loose order, and with so little spirit, against a breach covered by artillery, advance to certain destruction, and as against them artillery is useful. but when the assailants swarm to the breach so massed together that one pushes on another, unless they be brought to a stand by ditches and earthworks, they penetrate everywhere, and no artillery has any effect to keep them back; and though some must fall, yet not so many as to prevent a victory. the frequent success of the northern nations in storming towns, and more particularly the recovery of brescia by the french, is proof sufficient of the truth of what i say. for the town of brescia rising against the french while the citadel still held out, the venetians, to meet any attack which might be made from the citadel upon the town, ranged guns along the whole line of road which led from the one to the other, planting them in front, and in flank, and wherever else they could be brought to bear. of all which m. de foix making no account, dismounted with his men-at-arms from horseback, and, advancing with them on foot through the midst of the batteries, took the town; nor do we learn that he sustained any considerable loss from the enemy's fire. so that, as i have said, he who has to defend himself in a small town, when his walls are battered down and he has no room to retire behind other works, and has only his artillery to trust to, is at once undone. but even where the town you defend is a great one, so that you have room to fall back behind new works, artillery is still, by a long way, more useful for the assailant than for the defender. for to enable your artillery to do any hurt to those without, you must raise yourself with it above the level of the ground, since, if you remain on the level, the enemy, by erecting any low mound or earth-work, can so secure himself that it will be impossible for you to touch him. but in raising yourself above the level of the ground, whether by extending yourself along the gallery of the walls, or otherwise, you are exposed to two disadvantages; for, first, you cannot there bring into position guns of the same size or range as he who is without can bring to bear against you, since it is impossible to work large guns in a confined space; and, secondly, although you should succeed in getting your guns into position, you cannot construct such strong and solid works for their protection as those can who are outside, and on level ground, and who have all the room and every other advantage which they could desire. it is consequently impossible for him who defends a town to maintain his guns in position at any considerable height, when those who are outside have much and powerful artillery; while, if he place it lower, it becomes, as has been explained, to a great extent useless. so that in the end the defence of the city has to be effected, as in ancient times, by hand to hand fighting, or else by means of the smaller kinds of fire-arms, from which if the defender derive some slight advantage, it is balanced by the injury he sustains from the great artillery of his enemy, whereby the walls of the city are battered down and almost buried in their ditches; so that when it comes once more to an encounter at close quarters, by reason of his walls being demolished and his ditches filled up, the defender is now at a far greater disadvantage than he was formerly. wherefore i repeat that these arms are infinitely more useful for him who attacks a town than for him who defends it. as to the remaining method, which consists in your taking up your position in an entrenched camp, where you need not fight unless you please, and unless you have the advantage, i say that this method commonly affords you no greater facility for avoiding an engagement than the ancients had; nay, that sometimes, owing to the use of artillery, you are worse off than they were. for if the enemy fall suddenly upon you, and have some slight advantage (as may readily be the case from his being on higher ground, or from your works on his arrival being still incomplete so that you are not wholly sheltered by them), forthwith, and without your being able to prevent him, he dislodges you, and you are forced to quit your defences and deliver battle: as happened to the spaniards at the battle of ravenna. for having posted themselves between the river ronco and an earthwork, from their not having carried this work high enough, and from the french having a slight advantage of ground, they were forced by the fire of the latter to quit their entrenchments come to an engagement. but assuming the ground you have chosen for your camp to be, as it always should, higher than that occupied by the enemy, and your works to be complete and sufficient, so that from your position and preparations the enemy dare not attack you, recourse will then be had to the very same methods as were resorted to in ancient times when an army was so posted that it could not be assailed; that is to say, your country will be wasted, cities friendly to you besieged or stormed, and your supplies intercepted; until you are forced, at last, of necessity to quit your camp and to fight a pitched battle, in which, as will presently appear, artillery will be of little service to you. if we consider, therefore, for what ends the romans made wars, and that attack and not defence was the object of almost all their campaigns, it will be clear, if what i have said be true, that they would have had still greater advantage, and might have achieved their conquests with even greater ease, had artillery been in use in their times. and as to the second complaint, that by reason of artillery men can no longer display their valour as they could in ancient days, i admit it to be true that when they have to expose themselves a few at a time, men run more risks now than formerly; as when they have to scale a town or perform some similar exploit, in which they are not massed together but must advance singly and one behind another. it is true, also, that captains and commanders of armies are subjected to a greater risk of being killed now than of old, since they an be reached everywhere by the enemy's fire; and it is no protection to them to be with those of their men who are furthest from the enemy, or to be surrounded by the bravest of their guards. still, we do not often find either of these two dangers occasioning extraordinary loss. for towns strongly fortified are not attacked by escalade, nor will the assailing army advance against them in weak numbers; but will endeavour, as in ancient times, to reduce them by regular siege. and even in the case of towns attacked by storm, the dangers are not so very much greater now than they were formerly; for in those old days also, the defenders of towns were not without warlike engines, which if less terrible in their operation, had, so far as killing goes, much the same effect. and as for the deaths of captains and leaders of companies, it may be said that during the last twenty-four years of war in italy, we have had fewer instances of such deaths than might be found in a period of ten years of ancient warfare. for excepting the count lodovico della mirandola, who fell at ferrara, when the venetians a few years ago attacked that city, and the duke de nemours, slain at cirignuola, we have no instance of any commander being killed by artillery. for, at ravenna, m. de foix died by steel and not by shot. wherefore i say that if men no longer perform deeds of individual prowess, it results not so much from the use of artillery, as from the faulty discipline and weakness of our armies, which being collectively without valour cannot display it in particular instances. as to the third assertion, that armies can no longer be brought to engage one another, and that war will soon come to be carried on wholly with artillery, i maintain that this allegation is utterly untrue, and will always be so held by those who are willing in handling their troops to follow the usages of ancient valour. for whosoever would have a good army must train it, either by real or by mimic warfare, to approach the enemy, to come within sword-thrust, and to grapple with him; and must rely more on foot soldiers than on horse, for reasons presently to be explained. but when you trust to your foot-soldiers, and to the methods already indicated, artillery becomes powerless to harm you. for foot-soldiers, in approaching an enemy, can with more ease escape the fire of his artillery than in ancient times they could have avoided a charge of elephants or of scythed chariots, or any other of those strange contrivances which had to be encountered by the romans, and against which they always devised some remedy. and, certainly, as against artillery, their remedy would have been easier, by as much as the time during which artillery can do hurt is shorter than the time during which elephants and chariots could. for by these you were thrown into disorder after battle joined, whereas artillery harasses you only before you engage; a danger which infantry can easily escape, either by advancing so as to be covered by the inequalities of the ground, or by lying down while the firing continues; nay, we find from experience that even these precautions may be dispensed with, especially as against great artillery, which can hardly be levelled with such precision that its fire shall not either pass over your head from the range being too high, or fall short from its being too low. so soon, however, as the engagement is begun, it is perfectly clear that neither small nor great artillery can harm you any longer; since, if the enemy have his artillerymen in front, you take them; if in rear, they will injure him before they injure you; and if in flank, they can never fire so effectively as to prevent your closing, with the result already explained. nor does this admit of much dispute, since we have proof of it in the case of the swiss at novara, in the year , when, with neither guns nor cavalry, they advanced against the french army, who had fortified themselves with artillery behind entrenchments, and routed them without suffering the slightest check from their fire. in further explanation whereof it is to be noted, that to work artillery effectively it should be protected by walls, by ditches, or by earth-works; and that whenever, from being left without such protection it has to be defended by men, as happens in pitched battles and engagements in the open field, it is either taken or otherwise becomes useless. nor can it be employed on the flank of an army, save in the manner in which the ancients made use of their warlike engines, which they moved out from their columns that they might be worked without inconvenience, but withdrew within them when driven back by cavalry or other troops. he who looks for any further advantage from artillery does not rightly understand its nature, and trusts to what is most likely to deceive him. for although the turk, using artillery, has gained victories over the soldan and the sofi, the only advantage he has had from it has been the terror into which the horses of the enemy, unused to such sounds, are thrown by the roar of the guns. and now, to bring these remarks to a conclusion, i say briefly that, employed by an army wherein there is some strain of the ancient valour, artillery is useful; but employed otherwise, against a brave adversary, is utterly useless. chapter xviii.--_that the authority of the romans and the example of ancient warfare should make us hold foot soldiers of more account than horse._ by many arguments and instances it can be clearly established that in their military enterprises the romans set far more store on their infantry than on their cavalry, and trusted to the former to carry out all the chief objects which their armies were meant to effect. among many other examples of this, we may notice the great battle which they fought with the latins near the lake regillus, where to steady their wavering ranks they made their horsemen dismount, and renewing the combat on foot obtained a victory. here we see plainly that the romans had more confidence in themselves when they fought on foot than when they fought on horseback. the same expedient was resorted to by them in many of their other battles, and always in their sorest need they found it their surest stay. nor are we to condemn the practice in deference to the opinion of hannibal, who, at the battle of cannæ, on seeing the consuls make the horsemen dismount, said scoffingly, "_better still had they delivered their knights to me in chains._" for though this saying came from the mouth of a most excellent soldier, still, if we are to regard authority, we ought rather to follow the authority of a commonwealth like rome, and of the many great captains who served her, than that of hannibal alone. but, apart from authority, there are manifest reasons to bear out what i say. for a man may go on foot into many places where a horse cannot go; men can be taught to keep rank, and if thrown into disorder to recover form; whereas, it is difficult to keep horses in line, and impossible if once they be thrown into disorder to reform them. moreover we find that with horses as with men, some have little courage and some much; and that often a spirited horse is ridden by a faint-hearted rider, or a dull horse by a courageous rider, and that in whatever way such disparity is caused, confusion and disorder result. again, infantry, when drawn up in column, can easily break and is not easily broken by cavalry. this is vouched, not only by many ancient and many modern instances, but also by the authority of those who lay down rules for the government of states, who show that at first wars were carried on by mounted soldiers, because the methods for arraying infantry were not yet understood, but that so soon as these were discovered, the superiority of foot over horse was at once recognized. in saying this, i would not have it supposed that horsemen are not of the greatest use in armies, whether for purposes of observation, for harrying and laying waste the enemy's country, for pursuing a retreating foe or helping to repulse his cavalry. but the substance and sinew of an army, and that part of it which ought constantly to be most considered, should always be the infantry. and among sins of the italian princes who have made their country the slave of foreigners, there is none worse than that they have held these arms in contempt, and turned their whole attention to mounted troops. this error is due to the craft of our captains and to the ignorance of our rulers. for the control of the armies of italy for the last five and twenty years resting in the hands of men, who, as having no lands of their own, may be looked on as mere soldiers of fortune, these fell forthwith on contriving how they might maintain their credit by being supplied with the arms which the princes of the country were without. and as they had no subjects of their own of whom they could make use, and could not obtain constant employment and pay for a large number of foot-soldiers, and as a small number would have given them no importance, they had recourse to horsemen. for a _condottiere_ drawing pay for two or three hundred horsemen was maintained by them in the highest credit, and yet the cost was not too great to be met by the princes who employed him. and to effect their object with more ease, and increase their credit still further, these adventurers would allow no merit or favour to be due to foot-soldiers, but claimed all for their horsemen. and to such a length was this bad system carried, that in the very greatest army only the smallest sprinkling of infantry was to be found. this, together with many other ill practices which accompanied it, has so weakened the militia of italy, that the country has easily been trampled upon by all the nations of the north. that it is a mistake to make more account of cavalry than of infantry, may be still more clearly seen from another example taken from roman history. the romans being engaged on the siege of sora, a troop of horse a sally from the town to attack their camp; when the roman master of the knights advancing with his own horsemen to give them battle, it so chanced that, at the very first onset, the leaders on both sides were slain. both parties being thus left without commanders, and the combat, nevertheless, continuing, the romans thinking thereby to have the advantage of their adversaries, alighted from horseback, obliging the enemy's cavalry, in order to defend themselves, to do the like. the result was that the romans had the victory. now there could be no stronger instance than this to show the superiority of foot over horse. for while in other battles the roman cavalry were made by their consuls to dismount in order to succour their infantry who were in distress and in need of such aid, on this occasion they dismounted, not to succour their infantry, nor to encounter an enemy contending on foot, but because they saw that though they could not prevail against the enemy fighting as horsemen against horsemen, on foot they readily might. and from this i conclude that foot-soldiers, if rightly handled, can hardly be beaten except by other soldiers fighting on foot. with very few cavalry, but with a considerable force of infantry, the roman commanders, crassus and marcus antonius, each for many days together overran the territories of the parthians, although opposed by the countless horsemen of that nation. crassus, indeed, with the greater part of his army, was left there dead, and antonius only saved himself by his valour; but even in the extremities to which the romans were then brought, see how greatly superior foot-soldiers are to horse. for though fighting in an open country, far from the sea-coast, and cut off from his supplies, antonius proved himself a valiant soldier in the judgment even of the parthians themselves, the whole strength of whose cavalry never ventured to attack the columns of his army. and though crassus perished there, any one who reads attentively the account of his expedition must see that he was rather outwitted than defeated, and that even when his condition was desperate, the parthians durst not close with him, but effected his destruction by hanging continually on the flanks of his army, and intercepting his supplies, while cajoling him with promises which they never kept. it might, i grant, be harder to demonstrate this great superiority of foot over horse, had we not very many modern examples affording the clearest proof of it. for instance, at the battle of novara, of which we have already spoken, nine thousand swiss foot were seen to attack ten thousand cavalry together with an equal number of infantry, and to defeat them; the cavalry being powerless to injure them, while of the infantry, who were mostly gascons, and badly disciplined, they made no account. on another occasion we have seen twenty-six thousand swiss march on milan to attack francis i. of france, who had with him twenty thousand men-at-arms, forty thousand foot, and a hundred pieces of artillery; and although they were not victorious as at novara, they nevertheless fought valiantly for two days together, and, in the end, though beaten, were able to bring off half their number. with foot-soldiers only marcus attilius regulus ventured to oppose himself, not to cavalry merely, but to elephants; and if the attempt failed it does not follow that he was not justified by the valour of his men in believing them equal to surmount this danger. i repeat, therefore, that to prevail against well-disciplined infantry, you must meet them with infantry disciplined still better, and that otherwise you advance to certain destruction. in the time of filippo visconti, duke of milan, some sixteen thousand swiss made a descent on lombardy, whereupon the duke, who at that time had il carmagnola as his captain, sent him with six thousand men-at-arms and a slender following of foot-soldiers to meet them. not knowing their manner of fighting, carmagnola fell upon them with his horsemen, expecting to put them at once to rout; but finding them immovable, after losing many of his men he withdrew. but, being a most wise captain, and skilful in devising new remedies to meet unwonted dangers, after reinforcing his company he again advanced to the attack; and when about to engage made all his men-at-arms dismount, and placing them in front of his foot-soldiers, fell once more upon the swiss, who could then no longer withstand him. for his men, being on foot and well armed, easily penetrated the swiss ranks without hurt to themselves; and getting among them, had no difficulty in cutting them down, so that of the entire army of the swiss those only escaped who were spared by his humanity. of this difference in the efficiency of these two kinds of troops, many i believe are aware; but such is the unhappiness and perversity of the times in which we live, that neither ancient nor modern examples, nor even the consciousness of error, can move our present princes to amend their ways, or convince them that to restore credit to the arms of a state or province, it is necessary to revive this branch of their militia also, to keep it near them, to make much of it, and to give it life, that in return, it may give back life and reputation to them. but as they have departed from all those other methods already spoken of, so have they departed from this, and with this result, that to them the acquisition of territory is rather a loss than a gain, as presently shall be shown. chapter xix.--_that acquisitions made by ill-governed states and such as follow not the valiant methods of the romans, tend rather to their ruin than to their aggrandizement_. to these false opinions, founded on the pernicious example first set by the present corrupt age, we owe it, that no man thinks of departing from the methods which are in use. it had been impossible, for instance, some thirty years ago, to persuade an italian that ten thousand foot-soldiers could, on plain ground, attack ten thousand cavalry together with an equal number of infantry; and not merely attack, but defeat them; as we saw done by the swiss at that battle of novara, to which i have already referred so often. for although history abounds in similar examples, none would have believed them, or, believing them, would have said that nowadays men are so much better armed, that a squadron of cavalry could shatter a rock, to say nothing of a column of infantry. with such false pleas would they have belied their judgment, taking no account that with a very scanty force of foot-soldiers, lucullus routed a hundred and fifty thousand of the cavalry of tigranes, among whom were a body of horsemen very nearly resembling our own men-at-arms. now, however, this error is demonstrated by the example of the northern nations. and since what history teaches as to the superiority of foot-soldiers is thus proved to be true, men ought likewise to believe that the other methods practised by the ancients are in like manner salutary and useful. and were this once accepted, both princes and commonwealths would make fewer blunders than they do, would be stronger to resist sudden attack, and would no longer place their sole hope of safety in flight; while those who take in hand to provide a state with new institutions would know better what direction to give them, whether in the way of extending or merely of preserving; and would see that to augment the numbers of their citizens, to assume other states as companions rather than reduce them to subjection, to send out colonies for the defence of acquired territories, to hold their spoils at the credit of the common stock, to overcome enemies by inroads and pitched battles rather than by sieges, to enrich the public purse, keep down private wealth, and zealously, to maintain all military exercises, are the true ways to aggrandize a state and to extend its empire. or if these methods for adding to their power are not to their mind, let them remember that acquisitions made in any other way are the ruin of republics, and so set bounds to their ambition, wisely regulating the internal government of their country by suitable laws and ordinances, forbidding extension, and looking only to defence, and taking heed that their defences are in good order, as do those republics of germany which live and for long have lived, in freedom. and yet, as i have said on another occasion, when speaking of the difference between the methods suitable for acquiring and those suitable for maintaining, it is impossible for a republic to remain long in the peaceful enjoyment of freedom within a restricted frontier. for should it forbear from molesting others, others are not likely to refrain from molesting it; whence must grow at once the desire and the necessity to make acquisitions; or should no enemies be found abroad, they will be found at home, for this seems to be incidental to all great states. and if the free states of germany are, and have long been able to maintain themselves on their present footing, this arises from certain conditions peculiar to that country, and to be found nowhere else, without which these communities could not go on living as they do. the district of germany of which i speak was formerly subject to the roman empire, in the same way as france and spain; but on the decline of the empire, and when its very name came to be limited to this one province, its more powerful cities taking advantage of the weakness and necessities of the emperors, began to free themselves by buying from them their liberty, subject to the payment of a trifling yearly tribute; until, gradually, all the cities which held directly from the emperor, and were not subject to any intermediate lord, had, in like manner, purchased their freedom. while this went on, it so happened that certain communities subject to the duke of austria, among which were friburg, the people of schweitz, and the like, rose in rebellion against him, and meeting at the outset with good success, by degrees acquired such accession of strength that so far from returning under the austrian yoke, they are become formidable to all their neighbours these are the states which we now name swiss. germany is, consequently, divided between the swiss, the communities which take the name of free towns, the princes, and the emperor; and the reason why, amid so many conflicting interests, wars do not break out, or breaking out are of short continuance, is the reverence in which all hold this symbol of the imperial authority. for although the emperor be without strength of his own, he has nevertheless such credit with all these others that he alone can keep them united, and, interposing as mediator, can speedily repress by his influence any dissensions among them. the greatest and most protracted wars which have taken place in this country have been those between the swiss and the duke of austria; and although for many years past the empire and the dukedom of austria have been united in the same man, he has always failed to subdue the stubbornness of the swiss, who are never to be brought to terms save by force. nor has the rest of germany lent the emperor much assistance in his wars with the swiss, the free towns being little disposed to attack others whose desire is to live as they themselves do, in freedom; while the princes of the empire either are so poor that they cannot, or from jealousy of the power of the emperor will not, take part with him against them. these communities, therefore, abide contented within their narrow confines, because, having regard to the imperial authority, they have no occasion to desire greater; and are at the same time obliged to live in unity within their walls, because an enemy is always at hand, and ready to take advantage of their divisions to effect an entrance. but were the circumstances of the country other than they are these communities would be forced to make attempts to extend their dominions, and be constrained to relinquish their present peaceful mode of life. and since the same conditions are not found elsewhere, other nations cannot adopt this way of living, but are compelled to extend their power either by means of leagues, or else by the methods used by the romans; and any one who should act otherwise would find not safety but rather death and destruction. for since in a thousand ways, and from causes innumerable, conquests are surrounded with dangers, it may well happen that in adding to our dominions, we add nothing to our strength; but whosoever increases not his strength while he adds to his dominions, must needs be ruined. he who is impoverished by his wars, even should he come off victorious, can add nothing to his strength, since he spends more than he gains, as the venetians and florentines have done. for venice has been far feebler since she acquired lombardy, and florence since she acquired tuscany, than when the one was content to be mistress of the seas, and the other of the lands lying within six miles from her walls. and this from their eagerness to acquire without knowing what way to take. for which ignorance these states are the more to be blamed in proportion as there is less to excuse them; since they had seen what methods were used by the romans, and could have followed in their footsteps; whereas the romans, without any example set them, were able by their own prudence to shape a course for themselves. but even to well-governed states, their conquests may chance to occasion much harm; as when some city or province is acquired abounding in luxury and delights, by whose manners the conqueror becomes infected; as happened first to the romans, and afterwards to hannibal on taking possession of capua. and had capua been at such a distance from rome that a ready remedy could not have been applied to the disorders of the soldiery, or had rome herself been in any degree tainted with corruption, this acquisition had certainly proved her ruin. to which titus livius bears witness when he says, "_most mischievous at this time to our military discipline was capua; for ministering to all delights, she turned away the corrupted minds of our soldiers from the remembrance of their country_." and, truly, cities and provinces like this, avenge themselves on their conquerors without blood or blow; since by infecting them with their own evil customs they prepare them for defeat at the hands of any assailant. nor could the subject have been better handled than by juvenal, where he says in his satires, that into the hearts of the romans, through their conquests in foreign lands, foreign manners found their way; and in place of frugality and other admirable virtues-- "came luxury more mortal than the sword, and settling down, avenged a vanquished world."[ ] and if their conquests were like to be fatal to the romans at a time when they were still animated by great virtue and prudence, how must it fare with those who follow methods altogether different from theirs, and who, to crown their other errors of which we have already said enough, resort to auxiliary and mercenary arms, bringing upon themselves those dangers whereof mention shall be made in the chapter following. [footnote : sævior armis luxuria occubuit victumque ulciscitur orbem. _juv. sat. vi. .] chapter xx.--_of the dangers incurred by princes or republics who resort to auxiliary or mercenary arms_. had i not already, in another treatise, enlarged on the inutility of mercenary and auxiliary, and on the usefulness of national arms, i should dwell on these matters in the present discourse more at length than it is my design to do. for having given the subject very full consideration elsewhere, here i would be brief. still when i find titus livius supplying a complete example of what we have to look for from auxiliaries, by whom i mean troops sent to our assistance by some other prince or ruler, paid by him and under officers by him appointed, it is not fit that i should pass it by in silence. it is related, then, by our historian, that the romans, after defeating on two different occasions armies of the samnites with forces sent by them to succour the capuans, whom they thus relieved from the war which the samnites were waging against them, being desirious to return to rome, left behind two legions to defend the capuans, that the latter might not, from being altogether deprived of their protection, once more become a prey to the samnites. but these two legions, rotting in idleness began to take such delight therein, that forgetful of their country and the reverence due to the senate, they resolved to seize by violence the city they had been left to guard by their valour. for to them it seemed that the citizens of capua were unworthy to enjoy advantages which they knew not how to defend. the romans, however, getting timely notice of this design, at once met and defeated it, in the manner to be more fully noticed when i come to treat of conspiracies. once more then, i repeat, that of all the various kinds of troops, auxiliaries are the most pernicious, because the prince or republic resorting to them for aid has no authority over them, the only person who possesses such authority being he who sends them. for, as i have said, auxiliary troops are those sent to your assistance by some other potentate, under his own flag, under his own officers, and in his own pay, as were the legions sent by the romans to capua. such troops, if victorious, will for the most part plunder him by whom, as well as him against whom, they are hired to fight; and this they do, sometimes at the instigation of the potentate who sends them, sometimes for ambitious ends of their own. it was not the purpose of the romans to violate the league and treaty which they had made with capua; but to their soldiers it seemed so easy a matter to master the capuans, that they were readily led into this plot for depriving them of their town and territories. many other examples might be given to the same effect, but it is enough to mention besides this instance, that of the people of regium, who were deprived of their city and of their lives by another roman legion sent for their protection. princes and republics, therefore, should resort to any other expedient for the defence of their states sooner than call in hired auxiliaries, when they have to rest their entire hopes of safety on them; since any accord or terms, however hard, which you may make with your enemy, will be carefully studied and current events well considered, it will be seen that for one who has succeeded with such assistance, hundreds have been betrayed. nor, in truth, can any better opportunity for usurping a city or province present itself to an ambitious prince or commonwealth, than to be asked to send an army for its defence. on the other hand, he who is so greedy of conquest as to summon such help, not for purposes of defence but in order to attack others, seeks to have what he can never hold and is most likely to be taken from him by the very person who helps him to gain it. yet such is the perversity of men that, to gratify the desire of the moment, they shut their eyes to those ills which must speedily ensue and are no more moved by example in this matter than in all those others of which i have spoken; for were they moved by these examples they would see that the more disposed they are to deal generously with their neighbours, and the more averse they are to usurp authority over them, the readier will these be to throw themselves into their arms; as will at once appear from the case of the capuans. chapter xxi.--_that capua was the first city to which the romans sent a prætor; nor there, until four hundred years after they began to make war._ the great difference between the methods followed by the ancient romans in adding to their dominions, and those used for that purpose by the states of the present time, has now been sufficiently discussed. it has been seen, too how in dealing with the cities which they did not think fit to destroy, and even with those which had made their submission not as companions but as subjects, it was customary with the romans to permit them to live on under their own laws, without imposing any outward sign of dependence, merely binding them to certain conditions, or complying with which they were maintained in their former dignity and importance. we know, further, that the same methods continued to be followed by the romans until they passed beyond the confines of italy, and began to reduce foreign kingdoms and states to provinces: as plainly appears in the fact that capua was the first city to which they sent a prætor, and him from no motive of ambition, but at the request of the capuans themselves who, living at variance with one another, thought it necessary to have a roman citizen in their town who might restore unity and good order among them. influenced by this example, and urged by the same need, the people of antium were the next to ask that they too might have a prætor given them; touching which request and in connection with which new method of governing, titus livius observes, "_that not the arms only but also the laws of rome now began to exert an influence;_" showing how much the course thus followed by the romans promoted the growth of their authority. for those cities, more especially, which have been used to freedom or to be governed by their own citizens, rest far better satisfied with a government which they do not see, even though it involve something of oppression, than with one which standing constantly before their eyes, seems every day to reproach them with the disgrace of servitude. and to the prince there is another advantage in this method of government, namely, that as the judges and magistrates who administer the laws civil and criminal within these cities, are not under his control, no decision of theirs can throw responsibility or discredit upon him; so that he thus escapes many occasions of calumny and hatred. of the truth whereof, besides the ancient instances which might be noted, we have a recent example here in italy. for genoa, as every one knows, has many times been occupied by the french king, who always, until lately, sent thither a french governor to rule in his name. recently, however, not from choice but of necessity, he has permitted the town to be self-governed under a genoese ruler; and any one who had to decide which of these two methods of governing gives the greater security to the king's authority and the greater content to the people themselves, would assuredly have to pronounce in favour of the latter. men, moreover, in proportion as they see you averse to usurp authority over them, grow the readier to surrender themselves into your hands; and fear you less on the score of their freedom, when they find you acting towards them with consideration and kindness. it was the display of these qualities that moved the capuans to ask the romans for a prætor; for had the romans betrayed the least eagerness to send them one, they would at once have conceived jealousy and grown estranged. but why turn for examples to capua and rome, when we have them close at hand in tuscany and florence? who is there but knows what a time it is since the city of pistoja submitted of her own accord to the florentine supremacy? who, again, but knows the animosity which down to the present day exists between florence and the cities of pisa, lucca, and siena? this difference of feeling does not arise from the citizens of pistoja valuing their freedom less than the citizens of these other towns or thinking themselves inferior to them, but from the florentines having always acted towards the former as brothers, towards the latter as foes. this it was that led the pistojans to come voluntarily under our authority while the others have done and do all in their power to escape it. for there seems no reason to doubt, that if florence, instead of exasperating these neighbours of hers, had sought to win them over, either by entering into league with them or by lending them assistance, she would at this hour have been mistress of tuscany. not that i would be understood to maintain that recourse is never to be had to force and to arms, but that these are only to be used in the last resort, and when all other remedies are unavailing. chapter xxii.--_that in matters of moment men often judge amiss._ how falsely men often judge of things, they who are present at their deliberations have constant occasion to know. for in many matters, unless these deliberations be guided by men of great parts, the conclusions come to are certain to be wrong. and because in corrupt republics, and especially in quiet times, either through jealousy or from other like causes, men of great ability are often obliged to stand aloof, it follows that measures not good in themselves are by a common error judged to be good, or are promoted by those who seek public favour rather than the public advantage. mistakes of this sort are found out afterwards in seasons of adversity, when recourse must be had to those persons who in peaceful times had been, as it were, forgotten, as shall hereafter in its proper place be more fully explained. cases, moreover, arise in which those who have little experience of affairs are sure to be misled, from the matters with which they have to deal being attended by many deceptive appearances such as lead men to believe whatsoever they are minded to believe. these remarks i make with reference to the false hopes which the latins, after being defeated by the romans, were led to form on the persuasion of their prætor numitius, and also with reference to what was believed by many a few years ago, when francis, king of france, came to recover milan from the swiss. for francis of angoulême, succeeding on the death of louis xii. to the throne of france, and desiring to recover for that realm the duchy of milan, on which, some years before, the swiss had seized at the instance of pope julius, sought for allies in italy to second him in his attempt; and besides the venetians, who had already been gained over by king louis, endeavoured to secure the aid of the florentines and pope leo x.; thinking that were he to succeed in getting these others to take part with him, his enterprise would be easier. for the forces of the spanish king were then in lombardy, and the army of the emperor at verona. pope leo, however, did not fall in with the wishes of francis, being, it is said, persuaded by his advisers that his best course was to stand neutral. for they urged that it was not for the advantage of the church to have powerful strangers, whether french or swiss, in italy; but that to restore the country to its ancient freedom, it must be delivered from the yoke of both. and since to conquer both, whether singly or together, was impossible, it was to be desired that the one should overthrow the other, after which the church with her friends might fall upon the victor. and it was averred that no better opportunity for carrying out this design could ever be found than then presented itself; for both the french and the swiss were in the field; while the pope had his troops in readiness to appear on the lombard frontier and in the vicinity of the two armies, where, under colour of watching his own interests, he could easily keep them until the opposed hosts came to an engagement; when, as both armies were full of courage, their encounter might be expected to be a bloody one, and likely to leave the victor so weakened that it would be easy for the pope to attack and defeat him; and so, to his own great glory, remain master of lombardy and supreme throughout italy. how baseless this expectation was, was seen from the event. for the swiss being routed after a protracted combat, the troops of the pope and spain, so far from venturing to attack the conqueror, prepared for flight; nor would flight have saved them, had not the humanity or indifference of the king withheld him from pursuing his victory, and disposed him to make terms with the church. the arguments put forward by the pope's advisers had a certain show of reason in their favour, which looked at from a distance seemed plausible enough; but were in reality wholly contrary to truth; since it rarely happens that the captain who wins a victory loses any great number of his men, his loss being in battle only, and not in flight. for in the heat of battle, while men stand face to face, but few fall, chiefly because such combats do not last long; and even when they do last, and many of the victorious army are slain, so splendid is the reputation which attends a victory, and so great the terror it inspires, as far to outweigh any loss the victor suffers by the slaughter of his soldiers; so that an enemy who, trusting to find him weakened, should then venture to attack him, would soon be taught his mistake, unless strong enough to give him battle at any time, before his victory as well as after. for in that case he might, as fortune and valour should determine, either win or lose; though, even then, the army which had first fought and won would have an advantage. and this we know for a truth from what befell the latins in consequence of the mistake made by numitius their prætor, and their blindness in believing him. for when they had already suffered defeat at the hands of the romans, numitius caused it to be proclaimed throughout the whole country of latium, that now was the time to fall upon the enemy, exhausted by a struggle in which they were victorious only in name, while in reality suffering all those ills which attend defeat, and who might easily be crushed by any fresh force brought against them. whereupon the latins believed him, and getting together a new army, were forthwith routed with such loss as always awaits those who listen to like counsels. chapter xxiii.--_that in chastising their subjects when circumstances required it the romans always avoided half-measures._ "such _was now the state of affairs in latium, that peace and war seemed alike intolerable_." no worse calamity can befall a prince or commonwealth than to be reduced to such straits that they can neither accept peace nor support war; as is the case with those whom it would ruin to conclude peace on the terms offered, while war obliges them either to yield themselves a spoil to their allies, or remain a prey to their foes. to this grievous alternative are men led by evil counsels and unwise courses, and, as already said, from not rightly measuring their strength. for the commonwealth or prince who has rightly measured his strength, can hardly be brought so low as were the latins, who made war with the romans when they should have made terms, and made terms when they should have made war, and so mismanaged everything that the friendship and the enmity of rome were alike fatal. whence it came that, in the first place, they were defeated and broken by manlius torquatus, and afterwards utterly subdued by camillus; who, when he had forced them to surrender at discretion to the roman arms, and had placed garrisons in all their towns, and taken hostages from all, returned to rome and reported to the senate that the whole of latium now lay at their mercy. and because the sentence then passed by the senate is memorable, and worthy to be studied by princes that it may be imitated by them on like occasion, i shall cite the exact words which livius puts into the mouth of camillus, as confirming what i have already said touching the methods used by the romans to extend their power, and as showing how in chastising their subjects they always avoided half-measures and took a decided course. for government consists in nothing else than in so controlling your subjects that it shall neither be in their power nor for their interest to harm you. and this is effected either by making such sure work with them as puts it out of their power to do you injury, or else by so loading them with benefits that it would be folly in them to seek to alter their condition. all which is implied first in the measures proposed by camillus, and next in the resolutions passed on these proposals by the senate. the words of camillus were as follows: "_the immortal gods have made you so entirely masters in the matter you are now considering, that_ _it lies with you to pronounce whether latium shall or shall not longer exist. so far as the latins are concerned, you can secure a lasting peace either by clemency or by severity. would you deal harshly with those whom you have conquered and who have given themselves into your hands, you can blot out the whole latin nation. would you, after the fashion of our ancestors, increase the strength of rome by admitting the vanquished to the rights of citizenship, here you have opportunity to do so, and with the greatest glory to yourselves. that, assuredly, is the strongest government which they rejoice in who obey it. now, then, is your time, while the minds of all are bent on what is about to happen, to obtain an ascendency over them, either by punishment or by benefits._" upon this motion the senate resolved, in accordance with the advice given by the consul, to take the case of each city separately, and either destroy utterly or else treat with tenderness all the more important of the latin towns. to those cities they dealt with leniently, they granted exemptions and privileges, conferring upon them the rights of citizenship, and securing their welfare in every particular. the others they razed to the ground, and planting colonies in their room, either removed the inhabitants to rome, or so scattered and dispersed them that neither by arms nor by counsels was it ever again in their power to inflict hurt. for, as i have said already, the romans never, in matters of moment, resorted to half-measures. and the sentence which they then pronounced should be a pattern for all rulers, and ought to have been followed by the florentines when, in the year , arezzo and all the val di chiana rose in revolt. for had they followed it, they would have established their authority on a surer footing, and added much to the greatness of their city by securing for it those lands which are needed to supply it with the necessaries of life. but pursuing that half-hearted policy which is most mischievous in executing justice, some of the aretines they outlawed, some they condemned to death, and all they deprived of their dignities and ancient importance in their town, while leaving the town itself untouched. and if in the councils then held any florentine recommended that arezzo should be dismantled, they who thought themselves wiser than their fellows objected, that to do so would be little to the honour of our republic, since it would look as though she lacked strength to hold it. reasons like this are of a sort which seem sound, but are not really so; for, by the same rule, no parricide should be put to death, nor any other malefactor, however atrocious his crimes; because, forsooth, it would be discreditable to the ruler to appear unequal to the control of a single criminal. they who hold such opinions fail to see that when men individually, or entire cities collectively, offend against the state, the prince for his own safety, and as a warning to others, has no alternative but to make an end of them; and that true honour lies in being able and in knowing how to chastise such offenders, and not in incurring endless dangers in the effort to retain them. for the prince who does not chastise offenders in a way that puts it out of their power to offend again, is accounted unwise or worthless. how necessary it was for the romans to execute justice against the latins, is further seen from the course took with the men of privernum. and here the text of livius suggests two points for our attention: first, as already noted, that a subjugated people is either to be caressed or crushed; and second, how much it is for our advantage to maintain a manly bearing, and to speak the truth fearlessly in the presence of the wise. for the senate being met to determine the fate of the citizens of privernum, who after rebelling had been reduced to submission by the roman arms, certain of these citizens were sent by their countrymen to plead for pardon. when these had come into the presence of the senate, one of them was asked by a senator, "_what punishment he thought his fellow citizens deserved?_" to which he of privernum answered, "_such punishment as they deserve who deem themselves worthy of freedom._" "_but,_" said the consul, "_should we remit your punishment, what sort of peace can we hope to have with you?_" to which the other replied, "_if granted on fair terms, a firm and lasting peace; if on unfair, a peace of brief duration._" upon this, though many of the senators were displeased, the wiser among them declared "_that they had heard the voice of freedom and manhood, and would never believe that the man or people who so spoke ought to remain longer than was needful in a position which gave them cause for shame; since that was a safe peace which was accepted willingly; whereas good faith could not be looked for where it was sought to impose servitude._" so saying, they decided that the people of privernum should be admitted to roman citizenship, with all the rights and privileges thereto appertaining; declaring that "_men whose only thought was for freedom, were indeed worthy to be romans._" so pleasing was this true and high answer to generous minds, while any other must have seemed at once false and shameful. and they who judge otherwise of men, and of those men, especially, who have been used to be free, or so to think themselves, are mistaken; and are led through their mistake to adopt courses unprofitable for themselves and affording no content to others. whence, the frequent rebellions and the downfall of states. but, returning to our subject, i conclude, as well from this instance of privernum, as from the measures followed with the latins, that when we have to pass sentence upon powerful states accustomed to live in freedom, we must either destroy them utterly, or else treat them with much indulgence; and that any other course we may take with them will be unprofitable. but most carefully should we avoid, as of all courses the most pernicious, such half-measures as were followed by the samnites when they had the romans shut up in the caudine forks, and would not listen to the counsels of the old man who urged them either to send their captives away with every honourable attention, or else put them all to death; but adopted a middle course, and after disarming them and making them pass under the yoke, suffered them to depart at once disgraced and angered. and no long time after, they found to their sorrow that the old man's warning was true, and that the course they had themselves chosen was calamitous; as shall, hereafter, in its place be shown. chapter xxiv.--_that, commonly, fortresses do much more harm than good_ to the wise men of our day it may seem an oversight on the part of the romans, that, when they sought to protect themselves against the men of latium and privernum, it never occurred to them to build strongholds in their cities to be a curb upon them, and insure their fidelity, especially when we remember the florentine saying which these same wise men often quote, to the effect that pisa and other like cities must be held by fortresses doubtless, had those old romans been like-minded with our modern sages, they would not have neglected to build themselves fortresses, but because they far surpassed them in courage, sense, and vigour, they refrained. and while rome retained her freedom, and adhered to her own wise ordinances and wholesome usages, she never built a single fortress with the view to hold any city or province, though, sometimes, she may have suffered those to stand which she found already built. looking, therefore, to the course followed by the romans in this particular, and to that adopted by our modern rulers, it seems proper to consider whether or not it is advisable to build fortresses, and whether they are more likely to help or to hurt him who builds them in the first place, then, we are to remember that fortresses are built either as a defence against foreign foes or against subjects in the former case, i pronounce them unnecessary, in the latter mischievous. and to state the reasons why in the latter case they are mischievous, i say that when princes or republics are afraid of their subjects and in fear lest they rebel, this must proceed from knowing that their subjects hate them, which hatred in its turn results from their own ill conduct, and that again from their thinking themselves able to rule their subjects by mere force, or from their governing with little prudence. now one of the causes which lead them to suppose that they can rule by mere force, is this very circumstance of their people having these fortresses on their backs so that the conduct which breeds hatred is itself mainly occasioned by these princes or republics being possessed of fortresses, which, if this be true, are really far more hurtful than useful first, because, as has been said already, they render a ruler bolder and more violent in his bearing towards his subjects, and, next, because they do not in reality afford him that security which he believes them to give for all those methods of violence and coercion which may be used to keep a people under, resolve themselves into two; since either like the romans you must always have it in your power to bring a strong army into the field, or else you must dissipate, destroy, and disunite the subject people, and so divide and scatter them that they can never again combine to injure you for should you merely strip them of their wealth, _spoliatis arma supersunt_, arms still remain to them, or if you deprive them of their weapons, _furor arma ministrat_, rage will supply them, if you put their chiefs to death and continue to maltreat the rest, heads will renew themselves like those hydra; while, if you build fortresses, these may serve in time of peace to make you bolder in outraging your subjects, but in time of war they will prove wholly useless, since they will be attacked at once by foes both foreign and domestic, whom together it will be impossible for you to resist. and if ever fortresses were useless they are so at the present day, by reason of the invention of artillery, against the fury of which, as i have shown already, a petty fortress which affords no room for retreat behind fresh works, cannot be defended. but to go deeper into the matter, i say, either you are a prince seeking by means of these fortresses to hold the people of your city in check; or you are a prince, or it may be a republic, desirous to control some city which you have gained in war. to the prince i would say, that, for the reasons already given, nothing can be more unserviceable than a fortress as a restraint upon your subjects, since it only makes you the readier to oppress them, and less scrupulous how you do so; while it is this very oppression which moves them to destroy you, and so kindles their hatred, that the fortress, which is the cause of all the mischief, is powerless to protect you. a wise and good prince, therefore, that he may continue good, and give no occasion or encouragement to his descendants to become evil, will never build a fortress, to the end that neither he nor they may ever be led to trust to it rather than to the good-will of their subjects. and if francesco sforza, who was accounted a wise ruler, on becoming duke of milan erected a fortress in that city, i say that herein he was unwise, and that the event has shown the building of this fortress to have been hurtful and not helpful to his heirs. for thinking that by its aid they could behave as badly as they liked to their citizens and subjects, and yet be secure, they refrained from no sort of violence or oppression, until, becoming beyond measure odious, they lost their state as soon as an enemy attacked it. nor was this fortress, which in peace had occasioned them much hurt, any defence or of any service them in war. for had they being without it, through thoughtlessness, treated their subjects inhumanely, they must soon have discovered and withdrawn from their danger; and might, thereafter, with no other help than that of attached subjects, have withstood the attacks of the french far more successfully than they could with their fortress, but with subjects whom they had estranged. and, in truth, fortresses are unserviceable in every way, since they may be lost either by the treachery of those to whom you commit their defence, or by the overwhelming strength of an assailant, or else by famine. and where you seek to recover a state which you have lost, and in which only the fortress remains to you, if that fortress is to be of any service or assistance to you, you must have an army wherewith to attack the enemy who has driven you out. but with such an army you might succeed in recovering your state as readily without a fortress as with one; nay, perhaps, even more readily, since your subjects, had you not used them ill, from the overweening confidence your fortress gave you, might then have felt better disposed towards you. and the event shows that in times of adversity this very fortress of milan has been of no advantage whatever, either to the sforzas or to the french; but, on the contrary, has brought ruin on both, because, trusting to it, they did not turn their thoughts to nobler methods for preserving that state. guido ubaldo, duke of urbino and son to duke federigo, who in his day was a warrior of much renown, but who was driven from his dominions by cesare borgia, son to pope alexander vi., when afterwards, by a sudden stroke of good fortune, he was restored to the dukedom caused all the fortresses of the country to be dismantled, judging them to be hurtful. for as he was beloved by his subjects, so far as they were concerned he had no need for fortresses; while, as against foreign enemies, he saw he could not defend them, since this would have required an army kept constantly in the field. for which reasons he made them be razed to the ground. when pope julius ii. had driven the bentivogli from bologna, after erecting a citadel in that town, he caused the people to be cruelly oppressed by his governor; whereupon, the people rebelled, and he forthwith lost the citadel; so that his citadel, and the oppressions to which it led, were of less service to him than different behaviour on his part had been. when niccolo da castello, the ancestor of the vitelli, returned to his country out of exile, he straightway pulled down the two fortresses built there by pope sixtus iv., perceiving that it was not by fortresses, but by the good-will of the people, that he could be maintained in his government. but the most recent, and in all respects most noteworthy instance, and that which best demonstrates the futility of building, and the advantage of destroying fortresses, is what happened only the other day in genoa. every one knows how, in , genoa rose in rebellion against louis xii. of france, who came in person and with all his forces to recover it; and after recovering it built there a citadel stronger than any before known, being, both from its position and from every other circumstance, most inaccessible to attack. for standing on the extremity of a hill, named by the genoese codefa, which juts out into the sea, it commanded the whole harbour and the greater part of the town. but, afterwards, in the year , when the french were driven out of italy, the genoese, in spite of this citadel, again rebelled, and ottaviano fregoso assuming the government, after the greatest efforts, continued over a period of sixteen months, at last succeeded in reducing the citadel by famine. by all it was believed that he would retain it as a rock of refuge in case of any reverse of fortune, and by some he was advised to do so; but he, being a truly wise ruler, and knowing well that it is by the attachment of their subjects and not by the strength of their fortifications that princes are maintained in their governments, dismantled this citadel; and founding his authority, not upon material defences, but on his own valour and prudence, kept and still keeps it. and whereas, formerly, a force of a thousand foot-soldiers could effect a change in the government of genoa, the enemies of ottaviano have assailed him with ten thousand, without being able to harm him. here, then, we see that, while to dismantle this fortress occasioned ottaviano no loss, its construction gave the french king no sort of advantage. for when he could come into italy with an army, he could recover genoa, though he had no citadel there; but when he could not come with an army, it was not in his power to hold the city by means of the citadel. moreover it was costly for the king to build, and shameful for him to lose this fortress; while for ottaviano it was glorious to take, and advantageous to destroy it. let us turn now to those republics which build fortresses not within their own territories, but in towns whereof they have taken possession. and if the above example of france and genoa suffice not to show the futility of this course, that of florence and pisa ought, i think, to be conclusive. for in erecting fortresses to hold pisa, the florentines failed to perceive that a city which had always been openly hostile to them, which had lived in freedom, and which could cloak rebellion under the name of liberty, must, if it were to be retained at all, be retained by those methods which were used by the romans, and either be made a companion or be destroyed. of how little service these pisan fortresses were, was seen on the coming of charles viii. of france into italy, to whom, whether through the treachery of their defenders or from fear of worse evils, they were at once delivered up; whereas, had there been no fortresses in pisa, the florentines would not have looked to them as the means whereby the town was to be held; the king could not by their assistance have taken the town from the florentines; and the methods whereby it had previously been preserved might, in all likelihood, have continued sufficient to preserve it; and, at any rate, had served that end no worse than the fortresses. these, then, are the conclusions to which i come, namely, that fortresses built to hold your own country under are hurtful, and that those built to retain acquired territories are useless; and i am content to rely on the example of the romans, who in the towns they sought to hold by the strong hand, rather pulled down fortresses than built them. and if any, to controvert these views of mine, were to cite the case of tarentum in ancient times, or of brescia in recent, as towns which when they rebelled were recovered by means of their citadels; i answer, that for the recovery of tarentum, fabius maximus was sent at the end of a year with an army strong enough to retake it even had there been no fortress there; and that although he availed himself of the fortress for the recovery of the town, he might, without it, have resorted to other means which would have brought about the same result. nor do i see of what service a citadel can be said to be, when to recover the city you must employ a consular army under a fabius maximus. but that the romans would, in any case, have recovered tarentum, is plain from what happened at capua, where there was no citadel, and which they retook, simply by the valour of their soldiers. again, as regards brescia, i say that the circumstances attending the revolt of that town were such as occur but seldom, namely, that the citadel remaining in your hands after the defection of the city, you should happen to have a great army nigh at hand, as the french had theirs on this occasion. for m. de foix being in command of the king's forces at bologna, on hearing of the loss of brescia, marched thither without an hour's delay, and reaching brescia in three days, retook the town with the help of the citadel. but here, again, we see that, to be of any service, the citadel of brescia had to be succoured by a de foix, and by that french army which in three days' time marched to its relief. so that this instance cannot be considered conclusive as against others of a contrary tendency. for, in the course of recent wars, many fortresses have been taken and retaken, with the same variety of fortune with which open country has been acquired or lost; and this not only in lombardy, but also in romagna, in the kingdom of naples, and in all parts of italy. and, further, touching the erection of fortresses as a defence against foreign enemies, i say that such defences are not needed by the prince or people who possess a good army; while for those who do not possess a good army, they are useless. for good armies without fortresses are in themselves a sufficient defence: whereas, fortresses without good armies avail nothing. and this we see in the case of those nations which have been thought to excel both in their government and otherwise, as, for instance, the romans and the spartans. for while the romans would build no fortresses, the spartans not merely abstained from building them, but would not even suffer their cities to be enclosed with walls; desiring to be protected by their own valour only, and by no other defence. so that when a spartan was asked by an athenian what he thought of the walls of athens, he answered "that they were fine walls if meant to hold women only." if a prince who has a good army has likewise, on the sea-front of his dominions, some fortress strong enough to keep an enemy in check for a few days, until he gets his forces together, this, though not necessary, may sometimes be for his advantage. but for a prince who is without a strong army to have fortresses erected throughout his territories, or upon his frontier, is either useless or hurtful, since they may readily be lost and then turned against him; or, supposing them so strong that the enemy is unable to take them by assault, he may leave them behind, and so render them wholly unprofitable. for a brave army, unless stoutly met, enters an enemy's country without regard to the towns or fortified places it leaves in its rear, as we read of happening in ancient times, and have seen done by francesco maria della rovere, who no long while ago, when he marched against urbino, made little of leaving ten hostile cities behind him. the prince, therefore, who can bring together a strong army can do without building fortresses, while he who has not a strong army ought not to build them, but should carefully strengthen the city wherein he dwells, and keep it well stored with supplies, and its inhabitants well affected, so that he may resist attack till an accord be agreed on, or he be relieved by foreign aid. all other expedients are costly in time of peace, and in war useless. whoever carefully weighs all that has now been said will perceive, that the romans, as they were most prudent in all their other methods, so also showed their wisdom in the measures they took with the men of latium and privernum, when, without ever thinking of fortresses, they sought security in bolder and more sagacious courses. chapter xxv.--_that he who attacks a city divided against itself, must not think to get possession of it through its divisions._ violent dissensions breaking out in rome between the commons and the nobles, it appeared to the veientines and etruscans that now was their time to deal a fatal blow to the roman supremacy. accordingly, they assembled an army and invaded the territories of rome. the senate sent caius manlius and marcus fabius to meet them, whose forces encamping close by the veientines, the latter ceased not to reproach and vilify the roman name with every sort of taunt and abuse, and so incensed the romans by their unmeasured insolence that, from being divided they became reconciled, and giving the enemy battle, broke and defeated them. here, again, we see, what has already been noted, how prone men are to adopt wrong courses, and how often they miss their object when they think to secure it. the veientines imagined that they could conquer the romans by attacking them while they were at feud among themselves; but this very attack reunited the romans and brought ruin on their assailants. for the causes of division in a commonwealth are, for the most part, ease and tranquillity, while the causes of union are fear and war. wherefore, had the veientines been wise, the more divided they saw rome to be, the more should they have sought to avoid war with her, and endeavoured to gain an advantage over her by peaceful arts. and the best way to effect this in a divided city lies in gaining the confidence of both factions, and in mediating between them as arbiter so long as they do not come to blows; but when they resort to open violence, then to render some tardy aid to the weaker side, so as to plunge them deeper in hostilities, wherein both may exhaust their forces without being led by your putting forth an excess of strength to suspect you of a desire to ruin them and remain their master. where this is well managed, it will almost always happen that you succeed in effecting the object you propose to yourself. the city of pistoja, as i have said already in connection with another matter, was won over to the florentine republic by no other artifice than this. for the town being split by factions, the florentines, by now favouring one side and now the other, without incurring the suspicions of either, brought both to such extremities that, wearied out with their harassed life, they threw themselves at last of their own accord into the arms of florence. the city of siena, again, has never made any change in her government which has had the support of the florentines, save when that support has been slight and insignificant; for whenever the interference of florence has been marked and decided, it has had the effect of uniting all parties in support of things as they stood. one other instance i shall add to those already given. oftener than once filippo visconti, duke of milan, relying on their divisions, set wars on foot against the florentines, and always without success; so that, in lamenting over these failures, he was wont to complain that the mad humours of the florentines had cost him two millions of gold, without his having anything to show for it. the veientines and etruscans, therefore, as i have said already, were misled by false hopes, and in the end were routed by the romans in a single pitched battle; and any who should look hereafter to prevail on like grounds and by similar means against a divided people, will always find themselves deceived. chapter xxvi.--_that taunts and abuse breed hatred against him who uses them, without yielding him any advantage._ to abstain from threats and injurious language, is, methinks, one of the wisest precautions a man can use. for abuse and menace take nothing from the strength of an adversary; the latter only making him more cautious, while the former inflames his hatred against you, and leads him to consider more diligently how he may cause you hurt. this is seen from the example of the veientines, of whom i spoke in the last chapter, who, to the injury of war against the romans, added those verbal injuries from which all prudent commanders should compel their soldiers to refrain. for these are injuries which stir and kindle your enemy to vengeance, and yet, as has been said, in no way disable him from doing you hurt; so that, in truth, they are weapons which wound those who use them. of this we find a notable instance in asia, in connection with the siege of amida. for gabade, the persian general, after besieging this town for a great while, wearied out at last by its protracted defence, determined on withdrawing his army; and had actually begun to strike his camp, when the whole inhabitants of the place, elated by their success, came out upon the walls to taunt and upbraid their enemies with their cowardice and meanness of spirit, and to load them with every kind of abuse. stung by these insults, gabade, changing his resolution, renewed the siege with such fury that in a few days he stormed and sacked the town. and the very same thing befell the veientines, who, not content, as we have seen, to make war on the romans with arms, must needs assail them with foul reproaches, advancing to the palisade of their camp to revile them, and molesting them more with their tongues than with their swords, until the roman soldiers, who at first were most unwilling to fight, forced the consuls to lead them to the attack. whereupon, the veientines, like those others of whom mention has just now been made, had to pay the penalty of their insolence. wise captains of armies, therefore, and prudent governors of cities, should take all fit precautions to prevent such insults and reproaches from being used by their soldiers and subjects, either amongst themselves or against an enemy. for when directed against an enemy they lead to the mischiefs above noticed, while still worse consequences may follow from our not preventing them among ourselves by such measures as sensible rulers have always taken for that purpose. the legions who were left behind for the protection of capua having, as shall in its place be told, conspired against the capuans, their conspiracy led to a mutiny, which was presently suppressed by valerius corvinus; when, as one of the conditions on which the mutineers made their submission, it was declared that whosoever should thereafter upbraid any soldier of these legions with having taken part in this mutiny, should be visited with the severest punishment. so likewise, when tiberius gracchus was appointed, during the war with hannibal, to command a body of slaves, whom the romans in their straits for soldiers had furnished with arms, one of his first acts was to pass an order making it death for any to reproach his men with their servile origin. so mischievous a thing did the romans esteem it to use insulting words to others, or to taunt them with their shame. whether this be done in sport or earnest, nothing vexes men more, or rouses them to fiercer indignation; "_for the biting jest which flavours too much of truth, leaves always behind it a rankling memory._"[ ] [footnote : nam facetiæ asperæ, quando nimium ex vero traxere, acrem sui memoriam relinquunt. _tacit. an._ xv. .] chapter xxvii.--_that prudent princes and republics should be content to have obtained a victory; for, commonly, when they are not, theft-victory turns to defeat._ the use of dishonouring language towards an enemy is mostly caused by an insolent humour, bred by victory or the false hope of it, whereby men are oftentimes led not only to speak, but also to act amiss. for such false hopes, when they gain an entry into men's minds, cause them to overrun their goal, and to miss opportunities for securing a certain good, on the chance of obtaining some thing better, but uncertain. and this, being a matter that deserves attention, because in deceiving themselves men often injure their country, i desire to illustrate it by particular instances, ancient and recent, since mere argument might not place it in so clear a light. after routing the romans at cannæ, hannibal sent messengers to carthage to announce his victory, and to ask support. a debate arising in the carthaginian senate as to what was to be done, hanno, an aged and wise citizen, advised that they should prudently take advantage of their victory to make peace with the romans, while as conquerors they might have it on favourable terms, and not wait to make it after a defeat; since it should be their object to show the romans that they were strong enough to fight them, but not to peril the victory they had won in the hope of winning a greater. this advice was not followed by the carthaginian senate, but its wisdom was well seen later, when the opportunity to act upon it was gone. when the whole east had been overrun by alexander of macedon, the citizens of tyre (then at the height of its renown, and very strong from being built, like venice, in the sea), recognizing his greatness, sent ambassadors to him to say that they desired to be his good servants, and to yield him all obedience, yet could not consent to receive either him or his soldiers within their walls. whereupon, alexander, displeased that a single city should venture to close its gates against him to whom all the rest of the world had thrown theirs open, repulsed the tyrians, and rejecting their overtures set to work to besiege their town. but as it stood on the water, and was well stored with victual and all other munitions needed for its defence, after four months had gone, alexander, perceiving that he was wasting more time in an inglorious attempt to reduce this one city than had sufficed for most of his other conquests, resolved to offer terms to the tyrians, and to make them those concessions which they themselves had asked. but they, puffed up by their success, not merely refused the terms offered, but put to death the envoy sent to propose them. enraged by this, alexander renewed the siege, and with such vigour, that he took and destroyed the city, and either slew or made slaves of its inhabitants. in the year , a spanish army entered the florentine territory, with the object of restoring the medici to florence, and of levying a subsidy from the town; having been summoned thither by certain of the citizens, who had promised them that so soon as they appeared within the florentine confines they would arm in their behalf. but when the spaniards had come into the plain of the arno, and none declared in their favour, being in sore need of supplies, they offered to make terms. this offer the people of florence in their pride rejected, and so gave occasion for the sack of prato and the overthrow of the florentine republic. a prince, therefore, who is attacked by an enemy much more powerful than himself, can make no greater mistake than to refuse to treat, especially when overtures are made to him; for however poor the terms offered may be, they are sure to contain some conditions advantageous for him who accepts them, and which he may construe as a partial success. for which reason it ought to have been enough for the citizens of tyre that alexander was brought to accept terms which he had at first rejected; and they should have esteemed it a sufficient triumph that, by their resistance in arms, they had forced so great a warrior to bow to their will. and, in like manner, it should have been a sufficient victory for the florentines that the spaniards had in part yielded to their wishes, and abated something of their own demands, the purport of which was to change the government of florence, to sever her from her allegiance to france, and, further, to obtain money from her. for if of these three objects the spaniards had succeeded in securing the last two, while the florentines maintained the integrity of their government, a fair share of honour and contentment would have fallen to each. and while preserving their political existence, the florentines should have made small account of the other two conditions; nor ought they, even with the possibility and almost certainty of greater advantages before them, to have left matters in any degree to the arbitration of fortune, by pushing things to extremes, and incurring risks which no prudent man should incur, unless compelled by necessity. hannibal, when recalled by the carthaginians from italy, where for sixteen years he had covered himself with glory, to the defence of his native country, found on his arrival that hasdrubal and syphax had been defeated, the kingdom of numidia lost, and carthage confined within the limits of her walls, and left without other resource save in him and his army. perceiving, therefore, that this was the last stake his country had to play, and not choosing to hazard it until he had tried every other expedient, he felt no shame to sue for peace, judging that in peace rather than in war lay the best hope of safety for his country. but, when peace was refused him, no fear of defeat deterred him from battle, being resolved either to conquer, if conquer he might, or if he must fall, to fall gloriously. now, if a commander so valiant as hannibal, at the head of an unconquered army, was willing to sue for peace rather than appeal to battle when he saw that by defeat his country must be enslaved, what course ought to be followed by another commander, less valiant and with less experience than he? but men labour under this infirmity, that they know not where to set bounds to their hopes, and building on these without otherwise measuring their strength, rush headlong on destruction. chapter xxviii.--_that to neglect the redress of grievances, whether public or private, is dangerous for a prince or commonwealth_. certain gauls coming to attack etruria, and more particularly clusium its chief city, the citizens of clusium sought aid from rome; whereupon the romans sent the three fabii, as envoys to these gauls, to notify to them, in the name of the roman people, that they must refrain from making war on the etruscans. from what befell the romans in connection with this embassy, we see clearly how far men may be carried in resenting an affront. for these envoys arriving at the very moment when the gauls and etruscans were about to join battle, being readier at deeds than words, took part with the etruscans and fought in their foremost ranks. whence it came that the gauls recognizing the roman envoys, turned against the romans all the hatred which before they had felt for the etruscans; and grew still more incensed when on making complaint to the roman senate, through their ambassador, of the wrong done them, and demanding that the fabii should be given up to them in atonement for their offence, not merely were the offenders not given up or punished in any way, but, on the contrary, when the comitia met were created tribunes with consular powers. but when the gauls found these men honoured who deserved to be chastised, they concluded that what had happened had been done by way of slight and insult to them, and, burning with fury and resentment, hastened forward to attack rome, which they took with the exception of the capitol. now this disaster overtook the romans entirely from their disregard of justice. for their envoys, who had violated the law of nations, and had therefore deserved punishment, they had on the contrary treated with honour. and this should make us reflect, how carefully all princes and commonwealths ought to refrain from committing like wrongs, not only against communities, but also against particular men. for if a man be deeply wronged, either by a private hand or by a public officer, and be not avenged to his satisfaction, if he live in a republic, he will seek to avenge himself, though in doing so he bring ruin on his country; or if he live under a prince, and be of a resolute and haughty spirit, he will never rest until he has wreaked his resentment against the prince, though he knows it may cost him dear. whereof we have no finer or truer example than in the death of philip of macedon, the father of alexander. for pausanias, a handsome and high-born youth belonging to philip's court, having been most foully and cruelly dishonoured by attalus, one of the foremost men of the royal household, repeatedly complained to philip of the outrage; who for a while put him off with promises of vengeance, but in the end, so far from avenging him, promoted attalus to be governor of the province of greece. whereupon, pausanias, seeing his enemy honoured and not punished, turned all his resentment from him who had outraged, against him who had not avenged him, and on the morning of the day fixed for the marriage of philip's daughter to alexander of epirus, while philip walked between the two alexanders, his son and his son-in-law, towards the temple to celebrate the nuptials, he slew him. this instance nearly resembles that of the roman envoys; and offers a warning to all rulers never to think so lightly of any man as to suppose, that when wrong upon wrong has been done him, he will not bethink himself of revenge, however great the danger he runs, or the punishment he thereby brings upon himself. chapter xxix.--_that fortune obscures the minds of men when she would not have them hinder her designs._ if we note well the course of human affairs, we shall often find things come about and accidents befall, against which it seems to be the will of heaven that men should not provide. and if this were the case even in rome, so renowned for her valour, religion, and wise ordinances, we need not wonder if it be far more common in other cities and provinces wherein these safeguards are wanting. having here a notable opportunity to show how heaven influences men's actions, titus livius turns it to account, and treats the subject at large and in pregnant words, where he says, that since it was heaven's will, for ends of its own, that the romans should feel its power, it first of all caused these fabii, who were sent as envoys to the gauls, to act amiss, and then by their misconduct stirred up the gauls to make war on rome; and, lastly, so ordered matters that nothing worthy of their name was done by the romans to withstand their attack. for it was fore-ordained by heaven that camillus, who alone could supply the remedy to so mighty an evil, should be banished to ardea; and again, that the citizens, who had often created a dictator to meet attacks of the volscians and other neighbouring hostile nations, should fail to do so when the gauls were marching upon rome. moreover, the army which the romans got together was but a weak one, since they used no signal effort to make it strong; nay, were so dilatory in arming that they were barely in time to meet the enemy at the river allia, though no more than ten miles distant from rome. here, again, the roman tribunes pitched their camp without observing any of the usual precautions, attending neither to the choice of ground, nor to surround themselves with trench or palisade, nor to avail themselves of any other aid, human or divine. in ordering their army for battle, moreover, disposed it in weak columns, and these far apart: so that neither men nor officers accomplished anything worthy of the roman discipline. the battle was bloodless for the romans fled before they were attacked; most of them retreating to veii, the rest to rome, where, without turning aside to visit their homes, they made straight for the capitol. meanwhile, the senate, so far from bethinking themselves how they might defend the city, did not even attend to closing the gates; and while some of them made their escape from rome, others entered the capitol along with those who sought shelter there. it was only in the defence of the capitol that any method was observed, measures being taken to prevent it being crowded with useless numbers, and all the victual which could be got, being brought into it to enable it to stand a siege. of the women, the children, and the men whose years unfitted them for service, the most part fled for refuge to the neighbouring towns, the rest remained in rome a prey to the invaders; so that no one who had heard of the achievements of the romans in past years, on being told of what took place on this occasion, could have believed that it was of the same people that things so contrary were related. wherefore, titus livius, after setting forth all these disorders, concludes with the words, "_so far does fortune darken men's minds when she would not have her ascendency gainsaid._" nor could any juster observation be made. and hence it is that those who experience the extremes whether of good or of evil fortune, are, commonly, little deserving either of praise or blame; since it is apparent that it is from heaven having afforded them, or denied them opportunities for acting worthily, that they have been brought to their greatness or to their undoing. fortune, doubtless, when she seeks to effect great ends, will often choose as her instrument a man of such sense and worth that he can recognize the opportunities which she holds out to him; and, in like manner, when she desires to bring about great calamities, will put forward such men as will of themselves contribute to that result. and all who stand in her way, she either removes by death, or deprives of the means of effecting good. and it is well seen in the passage we are considering, how fortune, to aggrandize rome, and raise her to the height she reached, judged it necessary, as shall be more fully shown in the following book, to humble her; yet would not have her utterly undone. for which reason we find her causing camillus to be banished, but not put to death; suffering rome to be taken, but not the capitol; and bringing it to pass that, while the romans took no wise precaution for the defence of their city, they neglected none in defending their citadel. that rome might be taken, fortune caused the mass of the army, after the rout at the allia, to direct its flight to veii, thus withdrawing the means wherewith the city might have been defended; but while thus disposing matters, she at the same time prepared all the needful steps for its recovery, in bringing an almost entire roman array to veii, and camillus to ardea, so that a great force might be assembled for the rescue of their country, under a captain in no way compromised by previous reverses, but, on the contrary, in the enjoyment of an untarnished renown. i might cite many modern instances to confirm these opinions, but since enough has been said to convince any fair mind, i pass them over. but once more i repeat what, from all history, may be seen to be most true, that men may aid fortune, but not withstand her; may interweave their threads with her web, but cannot break it but, for all that, they must never lose heart, since not knowing what their end is to be, and moving towards it by cross-roads and untravelled paths, they have always room for hope, and ought never to abandon it, whatsoever befalls, and into whatsoever straits they come. chapter xxx.--_that really powerful princes and, commonwealths do not buy friendships with money, but with their valour and the fame of their prowess_. when besieged in the capitol, the romans although expecting succour from veii and from camillus, nevertheless, being straitened by famine, entered into an agreement to buy off the gauls with gold but at the very moment when, in pursuance of this agreement, the gold was being weighed out, camillus came up with his army. this, says our historian, was contrived by fortune, "_that the romans might not live thereafter as men ransomed for a price,_" and the matter is noteworthy, not only with reference to this particular occasion, but also as it bears on the methods generally followed by this republic. for we never find rome seeking to acquire towns, or to purchase peace with money, but always confiding in her own warlike valour, which could not, i believe, be said of any other republic. now, one of the tests whereby to gauge the strength of any state, is to observe on what terms it lives with its neighbours: for when it so carries itself that, to secure its friendship, its neighbours pay it tribute, this is a sure sign of its strength, but when its neighbours, though of less reputation, receive payments from it, this is a clear proof of its weakness in the course of the roman history we read how the massilians, the eduans, the rhodians, hiero of syracuse, the kings eumenes and massinissa, all of them neighbours to the roman frontiers, in order to secure the friendship of rome, submitted to imposts and tribute whenever rome had need of them, asking no return save her protection. but with a weak state we find the reverse of all this happening and, to begin with our own republic of florence, we know that in times past, when she was at the height of her renown, there was never a lordling of romagna who had not a subsidy from her, to say nothing of what she paid to the perugians, to the castellans, and to all her other neighbours but had our city been armed and strong, the direct contrary would have been the case, for, to obtain her protection, all would have poured money into her lap, not seeking to sell their friendship but to purchase hers. nor are the florentines the only people who have lived on this dishonourable footing the venetians have done the same, nay, the king of france himself, for all his great dominions, lives tributary to the swiss and to the king of england; and this because the french king and the others named, with a view to escape dangers rather imaginary than real, have disarmed their subjects; seeking to reap a present gain by wringing money from them, rather than follow a course which would secure their own safety and the lasting welfare of their country. which ill-practices of theirs, though they quiet things for a time, must in the end exhaust their resources, and give rise in seasons of danger to incurable mischief and disorder. it would be tedious to count up how often in the course of their wars, the florentines, the venetians, and the kingdom of france have had to ransom themselves from their enemies, and to submit to an ignominy to which, once only, the romans were very near being subjected. it would be tedious, too, to recite how many towns have been bought by the florentines and by the venetians, which, afterwards, have only been a trouble to them, from their not knowing how to defend with iron what they had won with gold. while the romans continued free they adhered to this more generous and noble method, but when they came under the emperors, and these, again, began to deteriorate, and to love the shade rather than the sunshine, they also took to purchasing peace, now from the parthians, now from the germans, and at other times from other neighbouring nations. and this was the beginning of the decline of their great empire. such are the evils that befall when you withhold arms from your subjects; and this course is attended by the still greater disadvantage, that the closer an enemy presses you the weaker he finds you. for any one who follows the evil methods of which i speak, must, in order to support troops whom he thinks can be trusted to keep off his enemies, be very exacting in his dealings with those of his subjects who dwell in the heart of his dominions; since, to widen the interval between himself and his enemies, he must subsidize those princes and peoples who adjoin his frontiers. states maintained on this footing may make a little resistance on their confines; but when these are passed by the enemy no further defence remains. those who pursue such methods as these seem not to perceive that they are opposed to reason and common sense. for the heart and vital parts of the body, not the extremities, are those which we should keep guarded, since we may live on without the latter, but must die if the former be hurt. but the states of which i speak, leaving the heart undefended, defend only the hands and feet. the mischief which has thus been, and is at this day wrought in florence is plain enough to see. for so soon as an enemy penetrates within her frontiers, and approaches her heart, all is over with her. and the same was witnessed a few years ago in the case of the venetians, whose city, had it not been girdled by the sea, must then have found its end. in france, indeed, a like result has not been seen so often, she being so great a kingdom as to have few enemies mightier than herself. nevertheless, when the english invaded france in the year , the whole kingdom tottered; and the king himself, as well as every one else, had to own that a single defeat might have cost him his dominions. but with the romans the reverse of all this took place. for the nearer an enemy approached rome, the more completely he found her armed for resistance; and accordingly we see that on the occasion of hannibal's invasion of italy, the romans, after three defeats, and after the slaughter of so many of their captains and soldiers, were still able, not merely to withstand the invader, but even, in the end, to come off victorious. this we may ascribe to the heart being well guarded, while the extremities were but little heeded. for the strength of rome rested on the roman people themselves, on the latin league, on the confederate towns of italy, and on her colonies, from all of which sources she drew so numerous an army, as enabled her to subdue the whole world and to keep it in subjection. the truth of what i say may be further seen from the question put by hanno the carthaginian to the messengers sent to carthage by hannibal after his victory at cannæ. for when these were vaunting the achievements of hannibal, they were asked by hanno whether any one had come forward on behalf of the romans to propose terms of peace, and whether any town of the latin league or of the colonized districts had revolted from the romans. and when to both inquiries the envoys answered, "no," hanno observed that the war was no nearer an end than on the day it was begun. we can understand, therefore, as well from what has now been said, as from what i have often said before, how great a difference there is between the methods followed by the republics of the present times, and those followed by the republics of antiquity; and why it is that we see every day astounding losses alternate with extraordinary gains. for where men are weak, fortune shows herself strong; and because she changes, states and governments change with her; and will continue to change, until some one arise, who, following reverently the example of the ancients, shall so control her, that she shall not have opportunity with every revolution of the sun to display anew the greatness of her power. chapter xxxi.--_of the danger of trusting banished men._ the danger of trusting those who are in exile from their own country, being one to which the rulers of states are often exposed, may, i think, be fitly considered in these discourses; and i notice it the more willingly, because i am able to illustrate it by a memorable instance which titus livius, though with another purpose, relates in his history. when alexander the great passed with his army into asia, his brother-in-law and uncle, alexander of epirus, came with another army into italy, being invited thither by the banished lucanians, who gave him to believe that, with their aid, he might get possession of the whole of that country. but when, confiding in the promises of these exiles, and fed by the hopes they held out to him, he came into italy, they put him to death, their fellow-citizens having offered to restore them to their country upon this condition. it behoves us, therefore, to remember how empty are the promises, and how doubtful the faith, of men in banishment from their native land. for as to their faith, it may be assumed that whenever they can effect their return by other means than yours, notwithstanding any covenants they may have made with you, they will throw you over, and take part with their countrymen. and as for the empty promises and delusive hopes which they set before you, so extreme is their desire to return home that they naturally believe many things which are untrue, and designedly misrepresent many others; so that between their beliefs and what they say they believe, they fill you with false impressions, on which if you build, your labour is in vain, and you are led to engage in enterprises from which nothing but ruin can result. to this instance of alexander i shall add only one other, that, namely, of themistocles the athenian, who, being proclaimed a traitor, fled into asia to darius, to whom he made such lavish promises if he would only attack greece, that he induced him to undertake the enterprise. but afterwards, when he could not fulfil what he had promised, either from shame, or through fear of punishment, he poisoned himself. but, if such a mistake as this was made by a man like themistocles, we may reckon that mistakes still greater will be made by those who, being of a feebler nature, suffer themselves to be more completely swayed by their feelings and wishes wherefore, let a prince be careful how he embarks in any enterprise on the representations of an exile; for otherwise, he is likely either to be put to shame, or to incur the gravest calamities. because towns are sometimes, though seldom, taken by craft, through secret practices had with their inhabitants, i think it not out of place to discuss the matter in the following chapter, wherein i shall likewise show in how many ways the romans were wont to make such acquisitions. chapter xxxii.--_in how many ways the romans gained possession of towns._ turning their thoughts wholly to arms, the romans always conducted their military enterprises in the most advantageous way, both as to cost and every other circumstance of war. for which reason they avoided attempting towns by siege, judging the expense and inconvenience of this method of carrying on war greatly to outweigh any advantage to be gained by it. accordingly, they thought it better and more for their interest to reduce towns in any other way than this; and in all those years during which they were constantly engaged in wars we find very few instances of their proceeding by siege. for the capture of towns, therefore, they trusted either to assault or to surrender. assaults were effected either by open force, or by force and stratagem combined. when a town was assailed by open force, the walls were stormed without being breached, and the assailants were said "_aggredi urbem corona,_" because they encircled the city with their entire strength and kept up an attack on all sides. in this way they often succeeded in carrying towns, and even great towns, at a first onset, as when scipio took new carthage in spain. but when they failed to carry a town by storm, they set themselves to breach the walls with battering rams and other warlike engines; or they dug mines so as to obtain an entrance within the walls, this being the method followed in taking veii; or else, to be on a level with the defenders, they erected towers of timber or threw up mounds of earth against the outside of the walls so as to reach the top. of these methods of attack, the first, wherein the city was entirely surrounded, exposed the defenders to more sudden perils and left them more doubtful remedies. for while it was necessary for them to have a sufficient force at all points, it might happen that the forces at their disposal were not numerous enough to be everywhere at once, or to relieve one another. or if their numbers were sufficient, they might not all be equally resolute in standing their ground, and their failure at any one point involved a general defeat. consequently, as i have said, this method of attack was often successful. but when it did not succeed at the first, it was rarely renewed, being a method dangerous to the attacking army, which having to secure itself along an extended line, was left everywhere too weak to resist a sally made from the town; nay, of itself, was apt to fall into confusion and disorder. this method of attack, therefore, could be attempted once only and by way of surprise. against breaches in the walls the defence was, as at the present day, to throw up new works; while mines were met by counter-mines, in which the enemy were either withstood at the point of the sword, or baffled by some other warlike contrivance; as by filling casks with feathers, which, being set on fire and placed in the mine, choked out the assailants by their smoke and stench. where towers were employed for the attack, the defenders sought to destroy them with fire; and where mounds of earth were thrown up against the walls, they would dig holes at the base of the wall against which the mound rested, and carry off the earth which the enemy were heaping up; which, being removed from within as fast as it was thrown up from without, the mound made no progress. none of these methods of attack can long be persisted in and the assailant, if unsuccessful, must either strike his camp and seek victory in some other direction, as scipio did when he invaded africa and, after failing in the attempt to storm utica, withdrew from his attack on that town and turned his strength against the carthaginian army in the field; or else recourse must be had to regular siege, as by the romans at veii, capua, carthage, jerusalem, and divers other cities which they reduced in this way. the capture of towns by stratagem combined with force is effected, as by the romans at palæopolis, through a secret understanding with some within the walls. many attempts of this sort have been made, both by the romans and by others, but few successfully, because the least hindrance disarranges the plan of action, and because such hindrances are very likely to occur. for either the plot is discovered before it can be carried out, as it readily may, whether from treachery on the part of those to whom it has been communicated, or from the difficulties which attend its inception, the preliminary arrangements having to be made with the enemy and with persons with whom it is not permitted, save under some pretext or other, to hold intercourse; or if it be not discovered while it is being contrived, a thousand difficulties will still be met with in its execution. for if you arrive either before or after the appointed time, all is ruined. the faintest sound, as of the cackling of the geese in the capitol, the least departure from some ordinary routine, the most trifling mistake or error, mars the whole enterprise. add to which, the darkness of night lends further terror to the perils of such undertakings; while the great majority of those engaged in them, having no knowledge of the district or places into which they are brought, are bewildered and disconcerted by the least mishap, and put to flight by every imaginary danger. in secret nocturnal enterprises of this sort, no man was ever more successful than aratus of sicyon, although in any encounter by day there never was a more arrant coward. this we must suppose due rather to some special and occult quality inherent in the man, than to success being naturally to be looked for in the like attempts. such enterprises, accordingly, are often planned, but few are put into execution, and fewer still with success. when cities are acquired by surrender, the surrender is either voluntary or under compulsion; voluntary, when the citizens appeal to you for protection against some threatened danger from without, as capua submitted to the romans; or where they are moved by a desire to be better governed, and are attracted by the good government which he to whom they surrender is seen exercising over others who have placed themselves in his hands; as was the case with the rhodians, the massilians, and others who for like causes gave themselves up to the roman people. compulsory surrenders take place, either as the result of a protracted siege, like those we have spoken of above; or from the country being continually wasted by incursions, forays, and similar severities, to escape which a city makes its submission. of the methods which have been noticed, the romans, in preference to all others, used this last; and for four hundred and fifty years made it their aim to wear out their neighbours by invasion and by defeat in the open field, while endeavouring, as i have elsewhere said, to establish their influence over them by treaties and conventions. it was to this method of warfare therefore that they always mainly trusted, because, after trying all others, they found none so free from inconvenience and disadvantage--the procedure by siege involving expense and delay, that by assault, difficulty and danger, and that by secret practice, uncertainty and doubt. they found, likewise, that while in subduing one obstinate city by siege many years might be wasted, a kingdom might be gained in a single day by the defeat of a hostile army in the field. chapter xxxiii.--_that the romans intrusted the captains of their armies with the fullest powers._ in reading this history of titus livius with a view to profit by it, i think that all the methods of conduct followed by the roman people and senate merit attention. and among other things fit to be considered, it should be noted, with how ample an authority they sent forth their consuls, their dictators, and the other captains of their armies, all of whom we find clothed with the fullest powers: no other prerogative being reserved to itself by the senate save that of declaring war and making peace, while everything else was left to the discretion and determination of the consul. for so soon as the people and senate had resolved on war, for instance on a war against the latins, they threw all further responsibility upon the consul, who might fight or decline battle as he pleased, and attack this or the other city as he thought fit. that this was so, is seen in many instances, and especially from what happened during an expedition made against the etruscans. for the consul fabius having routed that people near sutrium, and thinking to pass onward through the ciminian forest into etruria, so far from seeking the advice of the senate, gave them no hint whatever of his design, although for its execution the war had to be carried into a new, difficult, and dangerous country. we have further witness to the same effect, in the action taken in respect of this enterprise by the senate, who being informed of the victory obtained by fabius, and apprehending that he might decide to pass onward through the aforesaid forest, and deeming it inexpedient that he should incur risk by attempting this invasion, sent two messengers to warn him not to enter etruria. these messengers, however, did not come up with the consul until he had already made his way into that country and gained a second victory; when, instead of opposing his further advance, they returned to rome to announce his good fortune and the glory which he had won. whoever, therefore, shall well consider the character of the authority whereof i speak, will see that it was most wisely accorded; since had it been the wish of the senate that a consul, in conducting a war, should proceed step by step as they might direct him, this must have made him at once less cautious and more dilatory; because the credit of victory would not then have seemed to be wholly his own, but shared by the senate on whose advice he acted. besides which, the senate must have taken upon itself the task of advising on matters which it could not possibly understand; for although it might contain among its members all who were most versed in military affairs, still, since these men were not on the spot, and were ignorant of many particulars which, if they were to give sound advice, it was necessary for them to know, they must in advising have made numberless mistakes. for these reasons they desired that the consul should act on his own responsibility, and that the honours of success should be wholly his; judging that the love of fame would act on him at once as a spur and as a curb, making him do whatever he had to do well. this matter i have the rather dwelt upon because i observe that our modern republics, such as the venetian and the florentine, view it in a different light; so that when their captains, commissaries, or _provedditori_ have a single gun to place in position, the authorities at home must be informed and consulted; a course deserving the same approval as is due to all those other methods of theirs, which, one with another, have brought italy to her present condition. book iii. * * * * * chapter i.--_for a sect or commonwealth to last long, it must often be brought back to its beginnings._ doubtless, all the things of this world have a limit set to their duration; yet those of them the bodies whereof have not been suffered to grow disordered, but have been so cared for that either no change at all has been wrought in them, or, if any, a change for the better and not for the worse, will run that course which heaven has in a general way appointed them. and since i am now speaking of mixed bodies, for states and sects are so to be regarded, i say that for them these are wholesome changes which bring them back to their first beginnings. those states consequently stand surest and endure longest which, either by the operation of their institutions can renew themselves, or come to be renewed by accident apart from any design. nothing, however, can be clearer than that unless thus renewed these bodies do not last. now the way to renew them is, as i have said, to bring them back to their beginnings, since all beginnings of sects, commonwealths, or kingdoms must needs have in them a certain excellence, by virtue of which they gain their first reputation and make their first growth. but because in progress of time this excellence becomes corrupted, unless something be done to restore it to what it was at first, these bodies necessarily decay; for as the physicians tell us in speaking of the human body, "_something or other is daily added which sooner or later will require treatment._"[ ] as regards commonwealths, this return to the point of departure is brought about either by extrinsic accident or by intrinsic foresight. as to the first, we have seen how it was necessary that rome should be taken by the gauls, that being thus in a manner reborn, she might recover life and vigour, and resume the observances of religion and justice which she had suffered to grow rusted by neglect. this is well seen from those passages of livius wherein he tells us that when the roman army was 'sent forth against the gauls, and again when tribunes were created with consular authority, no religious rites whatever were celebrated, and wherein he further relates how the romans not only failed to punish the three fabii, who contrary to the law of nations had fought against the gauls, but even clothed them with honour. for, from these instances, we may well infer that the rest of the wise ordinances instituted by romulus, and the other prudent kings, had begun to be held of less account than they deserved, and less than was essential for the maintenance of good government. and therefore it was that rome was visited by this calamity from without, to the end that all her ordinances might be reformed, and the people taught that it behoved them not only to maintain religion and justice, but also to esteem their worthy citizens, and to prize their virtues beyond any advantages of which they themselves might seem to have been deprived at their instance. and this, we find, was just the effect produced. for no sooner was the city retaken, than all the ordinances of the old religion were at once restored; the fabii, who had fought in violation of the law of nations, were punished; and the worth and excellence of camillus so fully recognized, that the senate and the whole people, laying all jealousies aside, once more committed to him the entire charge of public affairs. it is necessary then, as i have said already, that where men dwell together in a regulated society, they be often reminded of those ordinances in conformity with which they ought to live, either by something inherent in these, or else by some external accident. a reminder is given in the former of these two ways, either by the passing of some law whereby the members of the society are brought to an account; or else by some man of rare worth arising among them, whose virtuous life and example have the same effect as a law. in a commonwealth, accordingly, this end is served either by the virtues of some one of its citizens, or by the operation of its institutions. the institutions whereby the roman commonwealth was led back to its starting point, were the tribuneship of the people and the censorship, together with all those laws which were passed to check the insolence and ambition of its citizens. such institutions, however, require fresh life to be infused into them by the worth of some one man who fearlessly devotes himself to give them effect in opposition to the power of those who set them at defiance. of the laws being thus reinforced in rome, before its capture by the gauls, we have notable examples in the deaths of the sons of brutus, of the decemvirs, and of manlius frumentarius; and after its capture, in the deaths of manlius capitolinus, and of the son of manlius torquatus in the prosecution of his master of the knights by papirius cursor, and in the impeachment of the scipios. such examples as these, being signal and extraordinary, had the effect, whenever they took place, of bringing men back to the true standard of right; but when they came to be of rarer occurrence, they left men more leisure to grow corrupted, and were attended by greater danger and disturbance. wherefore, between one and another of these vindications of the laws, no more than ten years, at most, ought to intervene; because after that time men begin to change their manners and to disregard the laws; and if nothing occur to recall the idea of punishment, and unless fear resume its hold on their minds, so many offenders suddenly spring up together that it is impossible to punish them without danger. and to this purport it used to be said by those who ruled florence from the year to , that their government could hardly be maintained unless it was renewed every five years; by which they meant that it was necessary for them to arouse the same terror and alarm in men's minds, as they inspired when they first assumed the government, and when all who offended against their authority were signally chastised. for when the recollection of such chastisement has died out, men are emboldened to engage in new designs, and to speak ill of their rulers; for which the only remedy is to restore things to what they were at first. a republic may, likewise, be brought back to its original form, without recourse to ordinances for enforcing justice, by the mere virtues of a single citizen, by reason that these virtues are of such influence and authority that good men love to imitate them, and bad men are ashamed to depart from them. those to whom rome owed most for services of this sort, were horatius cocles, mutius scævola, the two decii, atilius regulus, and divers others, whose rare excellence and generous example wrought for their city almost the same results as might have been effected by ordinances and laws. and if to these instances of individual worth had been added, every ten years, some signal enforcement of justice, it would have been impossible for rome ever to have grown corrupted. but when both of these incitements to virtuous behavior began to recur less frequently, corruption spread, and after the time of atilius regulus, no like example was again witnessed. for though the two catos came later, so great an interval had elapsed before the elder cato appeared, and again, so long a period intervened between him and the younger, and these two, moreover, stood so much alone, that it was impossible for them, by their influence, to work any important change; more especially for the younger, who found rome so much corrupted that he could do nothing to improve his fellow-citizens. this is enough to say concerning commonwealths, but as regards sects, we see from the instance of our own religion that here too a like renewal is needed. for had not this religion of ours been brought back to its original condition by saint francis and saint dominick, it must soon have been utterly extinguished. they, however, by their voluntary poverty, and by their imitation of the life of christ, rekindled in the minds of men the dying flame of faith; and by the efficacious rules which they established averted from our church that ruin which the ill lives of its prelates and heads must otherwise have brought upon it. for living in poverty, and gaining great authority with the people by confessing them and preaching to them, they got them to believe that it is evil to speak ill even of what is evil; and that it is good to be obedient to rulers, who, if they do amiss, may be left to the judgment of god. by which teaching these rulers are encouraged to behave as badly as they can, having no fear of punishments which they neither see nor credit. nevertheless, it is this renewal which has maintained, and still maintains, our religion. kingdoms also stand in need of a like renewal, and to have their laws restored to their former force; and we see how, by attending to this, the kingdom of france has profited. for that kingdom, more than any other, lies under the control of its laws and ordinances, which are maintained by its parliaments, and more especially by the parliament of paris, from which last they derive fresh vigour whenever they have to be enforced against any prince of the realm; for this assembly pronounces sentence even against the king himself. heretofore this parliament has maintained its name as the fearless champion of the laws against the nobles of the land; but should it ever at any future time suffer wrongs to pass unpunished, and should offences multiply, either these will have to be corrected with great disturbance to the state, or the kingdom itself must fall to pieces. this, then, is our conclusion--that nothing is so necessary in any society, be it a religious sect, a kingdom, or a commonwealth, as to restore to it that reputation which it had at first, and to see that it is provided either with wholesome laws, or with good men whose actions may effect the same ends, without need to resort to external force. for although this last may sometimes, as in the case of rome, afford an efficacious remedy, it is too hazardous a remedy to make us ever wish to employ it. and that all may understand how much the actions of particular citizens helped to make rome great, and how many admirable results they wrought in that city, i shall now proceed to set them forth and examine them; with which survey this third book of mine, and last division of the first decade of titus livius, shall be brought to a close. but, although great and notable actions were done by the roman kings, nevertheless, since history has treated of these at much length, here i shall pass them over, and say no more about these princes, save as regards certain things done by them with an eye to their private interest. i shall begin, therefore, with brutus, the father of roman freedom. [footnote : "quod quotidie aggregatur aliquid quod quandoque indiget curatione."] chapter ii.--_that on occasion it is wise to feign folly._ never did any man by the most splendid achievements gain for himself so great a name for wisdom and prudence as is justly due to junius brutus for feigning to be a fool. and although titus livius mentions one cause only as having led him to assume this part, namely, that he might live more securely and look after his patrimony; yet on considering his behavior we may believe that in counterfeiting folly it was also his object to escape notice, and so find better convenience to overthrow the kings, and to free his country whenever an occasion offered. that this was in his mind is seen first of all from the interpretation he gave to the oracle of apollo, when, to render the gods favourable to his designs, he pretended to stumble, and secretly kissed his mother earth; and, again, from this, that on the death of lucretia, though her father, her husband, and others of her kinsmen were present, he was the first to draw the dagger from her wound, and bind the bystanders by oath never more to suffer king to reign in rome. from his example all who are discontented with their prince are taught, first of all, to measure, and to weigh their strength, and if they find themselves strong enough to disclose their hostility and proclaim open war, then to take that course as at once the nobler and less dangerous; but, if too weak to make open war, then sedulously to court the favour of the prince, using to that end all such methods as they may judge needful, adapting themselves to his pleasures, and showing delight in whatever they see him delight in. such an intimacy, in the first place, enables you to live securely, and permits you, without incurring any risk, to share the happy fortunes of the prince, while it affords you every facility for carrying out your plans. some, no doubt, will tell you that you should not stand so near the prince as to be involved in his downfall; nor yet at such a distance that when he falls you shall be too far off to use the occasion for rising on his ruin. but although this mean course, could we only follow it, were certainly the best, yet, since i believe it to be impracticable, we must resort to the methods above indicated, and either keep altogether aloof, or else cleave closely to the prince. whosoever does otherwise, if he be of great station, lives in constant peril; nor will it avail him to say, "i concern myself with nothing; i covet neither honours nor preferment; my sole wish is to live a quiet and peaceful life." for such excuses, though they be listened to, are not accepted; nor can any man of great position, however much and sincerely he desire it, elect to live this life of tranquillity since his professions will not be believed; so that although he might be contented to be let alone, others will not suffer him to be so. wherefore, like brutus, men must feign folly; and to play the part effectively, and so as to please their prince, must say, do, see, and praise things contrary to their inclinations. but now, having spoken of the prudence shown by brutus when he sought to recover the freedom of rome, let us next speak of the severity which he used to maintain it. chapter iii.--_that to preserve a newly acquired freedom we must slay the sons of brutus._ the severity used by brutus in preserving for rome the freedom he had won for her, was not less necessary than useful. the spectacle of a father sitting on the judgment, and not merely sentencing his own sons to death, but being himself present at their execution, affords an example rare in history. but those who study the records of ancient times will understand, that after a change in the form of a government, whether it be from a commonwealth to a tyranny or from a tyranny to a commonwealth, those who are hostile to the new order of things must always be visited with signal punishment. so that he who sets up as a tyrant and slays not brutus, and he who creates a free government and slays not the sons of brutus, can never maintain himself long. but since i have elsewhere treated of this matter at large, i shall merely refer to what has there been said concerning it, and shall cite here one instance only, happening in our own days, and memorable in the history of our country. i speak of piero soderini, who thought by his patience and goodness to overcome the very same temper which prompted the sons of brutus to revert to the old government, and who failed in the endeavour. for although his sagacity should have taught him the necessity, while chance and the ambition of those who attacked him furnished him with the opportunity of making an end of them, he never could resolve to strike the blow; and not merely believed himself able to subdue disaffection by patience and kindness, and to mitigate the enmity of particular men by the rewards he held out to them, but also persuaded himself, and often declared in the presence of his friends, that he could not confront opposition openly, nor crush his adversaries, without assuming extraordinary powers and passing laws destructive of civil equality; which measures, although not afterward used by him for tyrannical ends, would so alarm the community, that after his death they would never again consent to appoint a gonfalonier for life, an office which he judged it essential both to maintain and strengthen. now although these scruples of his were wise and good, we ought never out of regard for what is good, to suffer an evil to run its course, since it may well happen that the evil will prevail over the good. and piero should have believed that as his acts and intentions were to be judged by results, he might, if he lived and if fortune befriended him, have made it clear to all, that what he did was done to preserve his country, and not from personal ambition; and he might have so contrived matters that no successor of his could ever turn to bad ends the means which he had used for good ends. but he was misled by a preconceived opinion, and failed to understand that ill-will is not to be vanquished by time nor propitiated by favours. and, so, from not knowing how to resemble brutus, he lost power, and fame, and was driven an exile from his country. that it is as hard a matter to preserve a princedom as it is to preserve a commonwealth, will be shown in the chapter following. chapter iv.--_that an usurper is never safe in his princedom while those live whom he has deprived of it._ from what befell the elder tarquin at the hands of the sons of ancus, and servius tullius at the hands of tarquin the proud, we see what an arduous and perilous course it is to strip a king of his kingdom and yet suffer him to live on, hoping to conciliate him by benefits. we see, too, how the elder tarquin was ruined by his belief that he held the kingdom by a just title, since it had been given him by the people and confirmed to him by the senate, never suspecting that the sons of ancus would be so stirred by resentment that it would be impossible to content them with what contented all the rest of rome. servius tullius again, was ruined through believing that he could conciliate the sons of ancus by loading them with favours. by the fate of the first of these kings every prince may be warned that he can never live securely in his princedom so long as those from whom he has taken it survive; while the fate of the second should remind all rulers that old injuries are not to be healed by subsequent benefits, and least of all when the new benefit is less in degree than the injury suffered. and, truly, servius was wanting in wisdom when he imagined that the sons of tarquin would contentedly resign themselves to be the sons-in-law of one whom they thought should be their subject. for the desire to reign is so prevailing a passion, that it penetrates the minds not only of those who are rightful heirs, but also of those who are not; as happened with the wife of the younger tarquin, who was daughter to servius, but who, possessed by this madness, and setting at naught all filial duty, incited her husband to take her father's kingdom, and with it his life; so much nobler did she esteem it to be a queen than the daughter of a king. but while the elder tarquin and servius tullius lost the kingdom from not knowing how to secure themselves against those whom they had deprived of it, the younger tarquin lost it from not observing the ordinances of the old kings, as shall be shown in the following chapter. chapter v.--_how an hereditary king may come to lose his kingdom._ tarquin the proud, when he had put servius tullius to death, inasmuch as the latter left no heirs, took secure possession of the kingdom, having nothing to fear from any of those dangers which had stood in the way of his predecessors. and although the means whereby he made himself king were hateful and monstrous, nevertheless, had he adhered to the ancient ordinances of the earlier kings, he might have been endured, nor would he have aroused both senate and people to combine against him and deprive him of his government. it was not, therefore, because his son sextus violated lucretia that tarquin was driven out, but because he himself had violated the laws of the kingdom, and governed as a tyrant, stripping the senate of all authority, and bringing everything under his own control. for all business which formerly had been transacted in public, and with the sanction of the senate, he caused to be transacted in his palace, on his own responsibility, and to the displeasure of every one else, and so very soon deprived rome of whatever freedom she had enjoyed under her other kings. nor was it enough for him to have the fathers his enemies, but he must needs also kindle the commons against him, wearing them out with mere mechanic labours, very different from the enterprises in which they had been employed by his predecessors; so that when rome overflowed with instances of his cruelty and pride, he had already disposed the minds of all the citizens to rebel whenever they found the opportunity. wherefore, had not occasion offered in the violence done to lucretia, some other had soon been found to bring about the same result. but had tarquin lived like the other kings, when sextus his son committed that outrage, brutus and collatinus would have had recourse to him to punish the offender, and not to the commons of rome. and hence let princes learn that from the hour they first violate those laws, customs, and usages under which men have lived for a great while, they begin to weaken the foundations of their authority. and should they, after they have been stripped of that authority, ever grow wise enough to see how easily princedoms are preserved by those who are content to follow prudent counsels, the sense of their loss will grieve them far more, and condemn them to a worse punishment than any they suffer at the hands of others. for it is far easier to be loved by good men than by bad, and to obey the laws than to seek to control them. and to learn what means they must use to retain their authority, they have only to take example by the conduct of good princes, such as timoleon of corinth, aratus of sicyone, and the like, in whose lives they will find such security and content, both on the side of the ruler and the ruled, as ought to stir them with the desire to imitate them, which, for the reasons already given, it is easy for them to do. for men, when they are well governed, ask no more, nor look for further freedom; as was the case with the peoples governed by the two whom i have named, whom they constrained to continue their rulers while they lived, though both of them sought repeatedly to return to private life. but because, in this and the two preceding chapters, i have noticed the ill-will which arose against the kings, the plots contrived by the sons of brutus against their country, and those directed against the elder tarquin and servius tullius, it seems to me not out of place to discourse of these matters more at length in the following chapter, as deserving the attention both of princes and private citizens. chapter vi.--_of conspiracies._ it were an omission not to say something on the subject of conspiracies, these being a source of much danger both to princes and to private men. for we see that many more princes have lost their lives and states through these than in open warfare; power to wage open war upon a prince being conceded to few, whereas power to conspire against him is denied to none. on the other hand, since conspiracies are attended at every stage by difficulties and dangers, no more hazardous or desperate undertakings can be engaged in by any private citizen; whence it comes that while many conspiracies are planned, few effect their object. wherefore, to put princes on their guard against these dangers, and to make subjects more cautious how they take part in them, and rather learn to live content under whatever government fortune has assigned them, i shall treat of them at length, without omitting any noteworthy circumstance which may serve for the instruction of either. though, indeed, this is a golden sentence of cornelius tacitus, wherein he says that "_the past should have our reverence, the present our obedience, and that we should wish for good princes, but put up with any._"[ ] for assuredly whosoever does otherwise is likely to bring ruin both on himself and on his country. but, to go deeper into the matter, we have first of all to examine against whom conspiracies are directed; and we shall find that men conspire either against their country or their prince; and it is of these two kinds of conspiracy that at present i desire to speak. for of conspiracies which have for their object the surrender of cities to enemies who are besieging them, and of all others contrived for like ends, i have already said enough. first, then, i shall treat of those conspiracies which are directed against a prince, and begin by inquiring into their causes, which are manifold, but of which one is more momentous than all the rest; i mean, the being hated by the whole community. for it may reasonably be assumed, that when a prince has drawn upon himself this universal hatred, he must also have given special offence to particular men, which they will be eager to avenge. and this eagerness will be augmented by the feeling of general ill-will which the prince is seen to have incurred. a prince ought, therefore, to avoid this load of public hatred. how he is to do so i need not stop here to explain, having discussed the matter already in another place; but if he can guard against this, offence given to particular men will expose him to but few attacks. one reason being, that there are few men who think so much of an injury done them as to run great risks to revenge it; another, that assuming them to have both the disposition and the courage to avenge themselves, they are restrained by the universal favour which they see entertained towards the prince. injuries are either to a man's life, to his property, or to his honour. as regards the first, they who threaten injuries to life incur more danger than they who actually inflict them; or rather, while great danger is incurred in threatening, none at all is incurred from inflicting such injuries. for the dead are past thinking of revenge; and those who survive, for the most part leave such thoughts to the dead. but he whose life is threatened, finding himself forced by necessity either to do or suffer, becomes a man most dangerous to the prince, as shall be fully explained hereafter. after menaces to life, injuries to property and honour stir men more than any others, and of these a prince has most to beware. for he can never strip a man so bare of his possessions as not to leave him some weapon wherewith to redress his wrongs, nor ever so far dishonour him as to quell the stubborn spirit which prompts revenge. of all dishonours those done to the women of a household are the worst; after which come such personal indignities as nerved the arm of pausanias against philip of macedon, and of many another against other princes; and, in our own days, it was no other reason that moved giulio belanti to conspire against pandolfo, lord of siena, than that pandolfo, who had given him his daughter to wife, afterwards took her from him, as presently shall be told. chief among the causes which led the pazzi to conspire against the medici, was the law passed by the latter depriving them of the inheritance of giovanni bonromei. another most powerful motive to conspire against a prince is the desire men feel to free their country from a usurper. this it was which impelled brutus and cassius to conspire against cæsar, and countless others against such tyrants as phalaris, dionysius, and the like. against this humour no tyrant can guard, except by laying down his tyranny; which as none will do, few escape an unhappy end. whence the verses of juvenal:-- "few tyrants die a peaceful death, and few the kings who visit proserpine's dread lord, unscathed by wounds and blood."[ ] great, as i have said already, are the dangers which men run in conspiring; for at all times they are in peril, whether in contriving, in executing, or after execution. and since in conspiracies either many are engaged, or one only (for although it cannot properly be said of _one_ man that he _conspires_, there may exist in him the fixed resolve to put the prince to death), it is only the solitary plotter who escapes the first of these three stages of danger. for he runs no risk before executing his design, since as he imparts it to none, there is none to bring it to the ear of the prince. a deliberate resolve like this may be conceived by a person in any rank of life, high or low, base or noble, and whether or no he be the familiar of his prince. for every one must, at some time or other, have leave to speak to the prince, and whoever has this leave has opportunity to accomplish his design. pausanias, of whom we have made mention so often, slew philip of macedon as he walked between his son and his son-in-law to the temple, surrounded by a thousand armed guards. pausanias indeed was noble, and known to the prince, but ferdinand of spain was stabbed in the neck by a poor and miserable spaniard; and though the wound was not mortal, it sufficed to show that neither courage nor opportunity were wanting to the would-be-assassin. a dervish, or turkish priest, drew his scimitar on bajazet, father of the sultan now reigning, and if he did not wound him, it was from no lack either of daring or of opportunity. and i believe that there are many who in their minds desire the deed, no punishment or danger attending the mere wish, though there be but few who dare do it. for since few or none who venture, escape death, few are willing to go forward to certain destruction. but to pass from these solitary attempts to those in which several are engaged, i affirm it to be shown by history that all such plots have been contrived by men of great station, or by those who have been on terms of close intimacy with the prince, since no others, not being downright madmen, would ever think of conspiring. for men of humble rank, and such as are not the intimates of their prince, are neither fed by the hopes nor possessed of the opportunities essential for such attempts. because, in the first place, men of low degree will never find any to keep faith with them, none being moved to join in their schemes by those expectations which encourage men to run great risks; wherefore, so soon as their design has been imparted to two or three, they are betrayed and ruined. or, assuming them fortunate enough to have no traitor of their number, they will be so hampered in the execution of their plot by the want of easy access to the prince, that they are sure to perish in the mere attempt. for if even men of great position, who have ready access to the prince, succumb to the difficulties which i shall presently notice, those difficulties must be infinitely increased in the case of men who are without these advantages. and because when life and property are at stake men are not utterly reckless, on perceiving themselves to be weak they grow cautious, and though cursing the tyrant in their hearts, are content to endure him, and to wait until some one of higher station than they, comes forward to redress their wrongs. so that should we ever find these weaklings attempting anything, we may commend their courage rather than their prudence. we see, however, that the great majority of conspirators have been persons of position and the familiars of their prince, and that their plots have been as often the consequence of excessive indulgence as of excessive injury; as when perennius conspired against commodus, plautianus against severus, and sejanus against tiberius; all of whom had been raised by their masters to such wealth, honours, and dignities, that nothing seemed wanting to their authority save the imperial name. that they might not lack this also, they fell to conspiring against their prince; but in every instance their conspiracies had the end which their ingratitude deserved. the only instance in recent times of such attempts succeeding, is the conspiracy of jacopo iv. d'appiano against messer piero gambacorti, lord of pisa. for jacopo, who had been bred and brought up by piero, and loaded by him with honours, deprived him of his state. similar to this, in our own days, was the conspiracy of coppola against king ferdinand of aragon. for coppola had reached such a pitch of power that he seemed to himself to have everything but sovereignty; in seeking to obtain which he lost his life; though if any plot entered into by a man of great position could be expected to succeed, this certainly might, being contrived, as we may say, by another king, and by one who had the amplest opportunities for its accomplishment. but that lust of power which blinds men to dangers darkened the minds of those to whom the execution of the scheme was committed; who, had they only known how to add prudence to their villainy, could hardly have missed their aim. the prince, therefore, who would guard himself against plots, ought more to fear those men to whom he has been too indulgent, than those to whom he has done great wrongs. for the latter lack opportunities which the former have in abundance; and the moving cause is equally strong in both, lust of power being at least as strong a passion as lust of revenge. wherefore, a prince should entrust his friends with so much authority only as leaves a certain interval between his position and theirs; that between the two something be still left them to desire. otherwise it will be strange if he do not fare like those princes who have been named above. but to return from this digression, i say, that having shown it to be necessary that conspirators should be men of great station, and such as have ready access to the prince, we have next to consider what have been the results of their plots, and to trace the causes which have made them succeed or fail. now, as i have said already, we find that conspiracies are attended by danger at three stages: before during, and after their execution; for which reason very few of them have had a happy issue; it being next to impossible to surmount all these different dangers successfully. and to begin with those which are incurred beforehand, and which are graver than all the rest, i say that he must be both very prudent and very fortunate who, when contriving a conspiracy, does not suffer his secret to be discovered. conspiracies are discovered either by disclosures made, or by conjecture. disclosures are made through the treachery or folly of those to whom you communicate your design. treachery is to be looked for, because you can impart your plans only to such persons as you believe ready to face death on your behalf, or to those who are discontented with the prince. of men whom you can trust thus implicitly, one or two may be found; but when you have to open your designs to many, they cannot all be of this nature; and their goodwill towards you must be extreme if they are not daunted by the danger and by fear of punishment. moreover men commonly deceive themselves in respect of the love which they imagine others bear them, nor can ever be sure of it until they have put it to the proof. but to make proof of it in a matter like this is very perilous; and even if you have proved it already, and found it true in some other dangerous trial, you cannot assume that there will be the same fidelity here, since this far transcends every other kind of danger. again, if you gauge a man's fidelity by his discontent with the prince, you may easily deceive yourself; for so soon as you have taken this discontented man into your confidence, you have supplied him with the means whereby he may become contented; so that either his hatred of the prince must be great indeed, or your influence over him extraordinary, if it keep him faithful. hence it comes that so many conspiracies have been discovered and crushed in their earliest stage, and that when the secret is preserved among many accomplices for any length of time, it is looked on as a miracle; as in the case of the conspiracy of piso against nero, and, in our own days, in that of the pazzi against lorenzo and giuliano de' medici; which last, though more than fifty persons were privy to it, was not discovered until it came to be carried out. conspiracies are disclosed through the imprudence of a conspirator when he talks so indiscreetly that some servant, or other person not in the plot, overhears him; as happened with the sons of brutus, who, when treating with the envoys of tarquin, were overheard by a slave, who became their accuser; or else through your own weakness in imparting your secret to some woman or boy whom you love, or to some other such light person; as when dymnus, who was one of those who conspired with philotas against alexander the great, revealed the plot to nicomachus, a youth whom he loved, who at once told cebalinus, and cebalinus the king. of discoveries by conjecture we have an instance in the conspiracy of piso against nero; for scaevinus, one of the conspirators, the day before he was to kill nero, made his will, liberated all his slaves and gave them money, and bade milichus, his freedman, sharpen his old rusty dagger, and have bandages ready for binding up wounds. from all which preparations milichus conjecturing what work was in hand, accused scaevinus before nero; whereupon scaevinus was arrested, and with him natalis, another of the conspirators, who the day before had been seen to speak with him for a long time in private; and when the two differed in their account of what then passed between them, they were put to the torture and forced to confess the truth. in this way the conspiracy was brought to light, to the ruin of all concerned. against these causes of the discovery of conspiracies it is impossible so to guard as that either through treachery, want of caution, or levity, the secret shall not be found out, whenever more than three or four persons are privy to it. and whenever more than one conspirator is arrested, the plot is certain to be detected, because no two persons can perfectly agree in a false account of what has passed between them. if only one be taken, should he be a man of resolute courage, he may refuse to implicate his comrades; but they on their part must have no less courage, to stay quiet where they are, and not betray themselves by flight; for if courage be absent anywhere, whether in him who is taken or in those still at large, the conspiracy is revealed. and what is related by titus livius as having happened in the conspiracy against hieronymus, tyrant of syracuse, is most extraordinary, namely, that on the capture of one of the conspirators, named theodorus, he, with great fortitude, withheld the names of all his accomplices, and accused friends of the tyrant; while his companions, on their part, trusted so completely in his courage, that not one of them quitted syracuse or showed any sign of fear. all these dangers, therefore, which attend the contrivance of a plot, must be passed through before you come to its execution; or if you would escape them, you must observe the following precautions: your first and surest, nay, to say truth, your only safeguard, is to leave your accomplices no time to accuse you; for which reason you must impart the affair to them, only at the moment when you mean it to be carried out, and not before. those who have followed this course have wholly escaped the preliminary dangers of conspiracies, and, generally speaking, the others also; indeed, i may say that they have all succeeded, and that it is open to every prudent man to act as they did. it will be enough to give two instances of plots effected in this way. nelematus, unable to endure the tyranny of aristotimus, despot of epirus, assembling many of his friends and kinsmen in his house, exhorted them to free their country; and when some of them asked for time to consider and mature their plans, he bade his slaves close the doors, and told those assembled that unless they swore to go at once and do as he directed he would make them over to aristotimus as prisoners. alarmed by his threats, they bound themselves by a solemn oath, and going forth at once and without delay, successfully carried out his bidding. a certain magus having fraudulently usurped the throne of persia; ortanes, a grandee of that realm, discovering the fraud, disclosed it to six others of the chief nobility, telling them that it behoved them to free the kingdom from the tyranny of this impostor. and when some among them asked for time, darius, who was one of the six summoned by ortanes, stood up and said, "either we go at once to do this deed, or i go to the magus to accuse you all." whereupon, all rising together, without time given to any to change his mind, they went forth and succeeded in effecting their end. not unlike these instances was the plan taken by the etolians to rid themselves of nabis, the spartan tyrant, to whom, under pretence of succouring him, they sent alasamenes, their fellow-citizen, with two hundred foot soldiers and thirty horsemen. for they imparted their real design to alasamenes only, charging the rest, under pain of exile, to obey him in whatever he commanded. alasamenes repaired to sparta, and never divulged his commission till the time came for executing it; and so succeeded in putting nabis to death. it was, therefore, by the precautions they observed, that the persons of whom i have just now spoken escaped all those perils that attend the contrivance of conspiracies; and any following their example may expect the like good fortune. and that all may learn to do as they did i shall notice the case of piso, of which mention has before been made. by reason of his rank, his reputation, and the intimate terms on which he lived with nero, who trusted him without reserve, and would often come to his garden to sup with him, piso was able to gain the friendship of many persons of spirit and courage, and well fitted in every way to take part in his plot against the emperor, which, under these circumstances, might easily have been carried out. for when nero came to his garden, piso could readily have communicated his design to those friends of his, and with suitable words have encouraged them to do what, in fact, they would not have had time to withdraw from, and was certain to succeed. and were we to examine all similar attempts, it would be seen that there are few which might not have been effected in the manner shown. but since most men are very ignorant of practical affairs, they commit the gravest blunders, especially in matters which lie, as this does, a little way out of the beaten track. wherefore, the contriver of a plot ought never, if he can help it, to communicate his design until the moment when it is to be executed; or if he must communicate it, then to some one man only, with whom he has long been intimate, and whom he knows to be moved by the same feelings as himself. to find one such person is far easier than to find several, and, at the same time, involves less risk; for though this one man play you false, you are not left altogether without resource, as you are when your accomplices are numerous. for i have heard it shrewdly said that to one man you may impart anything, since, unless you have been led to commit yourself by writing, your denial will go as far as his assertion. shun writing, therefore, as you would a rock, for there is nothing so damning as a letter under your own hand. plautianus, desiring to procure the deaths of the emperor severus and his son caracalla, intrusted the business to the tribune saturninus, who, being more disposed to betray than obey plautianus, but at the same time afraid that, if it came to laying a charge, plautianus might be believed sooner than he, asked him for a written authority, that his commission might be credited. blinded by ambition, plautianus complied, and forthwith was accused by saturninus and found guilty; whereas, but for that written warrant, together with other corroborating proofs, he must have escaped by his bold denial of the charge. against the testimony of a single witness, you have thus some defence, unless convicted by your own handwriting, or by other circumstantial proof against which you must guard. a woman, named epicharis, who had formerly been a mistress of nero, was privy to piso's conspiracy, and thinking it might be useful to have the help of a certain captain of triremes whom nero had among his body-guards, she acquainted him with the plot, but not with the names of the plotters. this fellow, turning traitor, and accusing epicharis to nero, so stoutly did she deny the charge, that nero, confounded by her effrontery, let her go. in imparting a plot to a single person there are, therefore, two risks: one, that he may come forward of his own accord to accuse you; the other, that if arrested on suspicion, or on some proof of his guilt, he may, on being convicted, in the hope to escape punishment, betray you. but in neither of these dangers are you left without a defence; since you may meet the one by ascribing the charge to the malice of your accuser, and the other by alleging that the witness his been forced by torture to say what is untrue. the wisest course, however, is to impart your design to none, but to act like those who have been mentioned above; or if you impart it, then to one only: for although even in this course there be a certain degree of danger, it is far less than when many are admitted to your confidence. a case nearly resembling that just now noticed, is where an emergency, so urgent as to leave you no time to provide otherwise for your safety, constrains you to do to a prince what you see him minded to do to you. a necessity of this sort leads almost always to the end desired, as two instances may suffice to show. among the closest friends and intimates of the emperor commodus, were two captains of the pretorian guards, letus and electus, while among the most favoured of his distresses was a certain martia. but because these three often reproved him for his manner of living, as disgraceful to himself and to his station, he resolved to rid himself of them; and so wrote their names, along with those of certain others whom he meant should be put to death the next night, in a list which he placed under the pillow of his bed. but on his going to bathe, a boy, who was a favourite of his, while playing about his room and on his bed, found the list, and coming out of the chamber with it in his hand, was met by martia, who took it from him, and on reading it and finding what it contained, sent for letus and electus. and all three recognizing the danger in which they stood, resolved to be beforehand with the tyrant, and losing no time, murdered him that very night. the emperor caracalla, being with his armies in mesopotamia, had with him macrinus, who was more of a statesman than a soldier, as his prefect. but because princes who are not themselves good are always afraid lest others treat them as they deserve, caracalla wrote to his friend maternianus in rome to learn from the astrologers whether any man had ambitious designs upon the empire, and to send him word. maternianus, accordingly, wrote back that such designs were entertained by macrinus. but this letter, ere it reached the emperor, fell into the hands of macrinus, who, seeing when he read it that he must either put caracalla to death before further letters arrived from rome, or else die himself, committed the business to a centurion, named martialis, whom he trusted, and whose brother had been slain by caracalla a few days before, who succeeded in killing the emperor. we see, therefore, that an urgency which leaves no room for delay has almost the same results as the method already noticed as followed by nelematus of epirus. we see, too, what i remarked almost at the outset of this discourse, that the threats of princes expose them to greater danger than the wrongs they actually inflict, and lead to more active conspiracies: and, therefore, that a prince should be careful not to threaten; since men are either to be treated kindly or else got rid of, but never brought to such a pass that they have to choose between slaying and being slain. as to the dangers attending the execution of plots, these result either from some change made in the plan, or from a failure in courage on the part of him who is to carry it out; or else from some mistake he falls into through want of foresight, or from his not giving the affair its finishing stroke, as when some are left alive whom it was meant to put to death. now, nothing causes so much disturbance and hindrance in human affairs, as to be forced, at a moment's notice and without time allowed for reflection, to vary your plan of action and adopt a different one from that fixed on at the first. and if such changes cause confusion anywhere, it is in matters appertaining to war, and in enterprises of the kind we are now speaking of; for in such affairs as these, there is nothing so essential as that men be prepared to do the exact thing intrusted to them. but when men have for many days together turned their whole thoughts to doing a thing in a certain way and in a certain order, and the way and order are suddenly altered, it is impossible but that they should be disconcerted and the whole scheme ruined. for which reason, it is far better to do everything in accordance with the preconcerted plan, though it be seen to be attended with some disadvantages, than, in order to escape these, to involve yourself in an infinity of dangers. and this will happen when you depart from your original design without time given to form a new one. for when time is given you may manage as you please. the conspiracy of the pazzi against lorenzo and giuliano de' medici is well known. the scheme agreed on was to give a banquet to the cardinal s. giorgio, at which the brothers should be put to death. to each of the conspirators a part was assigned: to one the murder, to another the seizure of the palace, while a third was to ride through the streets and call on the people to free themselves. but it so chanced that at a time when the pazzi, the medici, and the cardinal were all assembled in the cathedral church of florence to hear high mass, it became known that giuliano would not be present at the banquet; whereupon the conspirators, laying their heads together, resolved to do in church what they were to have done elsewhere. this, however, deranged the whole scheme. for giovambattista of montesecco, would have no hand in the murder if it was to be done in a church; and the whole distribution of parts had in consequence to be changed; when, as those to whom the new parts were assigned had no time allowed them to nerve their minds to their new tasks, they managed matters so badly that they were overpowered in their attempt. courage fails a conspirator either from his own poorness of spirit, or from his being overcome by some feeling of reverence. for such majesty and awe attend the person of a prince, that it may well happen that he softens or dismays his executioners. when caius marius was taken by the people of minturnum, the slave sent in to slay him, overawed by the bearing of the man, and by the memories which his name called up, became unnerved, and powerless to perform his office. and if this influence was exercised by one who was a prisoner, and in chains, and overwhelmed by adverse fortune, how much more must reverence be inspired by a prince who is free and uncontrolled, surrounded by his retinue and by all the pomp and splendour of his station; whose dignity confounds, and whose graciousness conciliates. certain persons conspiring against sitalces, king of thrace, fixed a day for his murder, and assembled at the place appointed, whither the king had already come. yet none of them raised a hand to harm him, and all departed without attempting anything against him or knowing why they refrained; each blaming the others. and more than once the same folly was repeated, until the plot getting wind, they were taken and punished for what they might have done, yet durst not do. two brothers of alfonso, duke of ferrara, conspired against him, employing as their tool a certain priest named giennes, a singing-man in the service of the duke. he, at their request, repeatedly brought the duke into their company, so that they had full opportunity to make away with him. yet neither of them ever ventured to strike the blow; till at last, their scheme being discovered, they paid the penalty of their combined cowardice and temerity. such irresolution can only have arisen from their being overawed by the majesty of the prince, or touched by his graciousness. in the execution of conspiracies, therefore, errors and mishaps arise from a failure of prudence or courage to which all are subject, when, losing self-control, they are led in their bewilderment to do and say what they ought not. that men are thus confounded, and thrown off their balance, could not be better shown than in the words of titus livius, where he describes the behaviour of alasamenes the etolian, at the time when he resolved on the death of nabis the spartan, of whom i have spoken before. for when the time to act came, and he had disclosed to his followers what they had to do, livius represents him as "_collecting his thoughts which had grown confused by dwelling on so desperate an enterprise_." for it is impossible for any one, though of the most steadfast temper and used to the sight of death and to handle deadly weapons, not to be perturbed at such a moment. for which reason we should on such occasions choose for our tools those who have had experience in similar affairs, and trust no others though reputed of the truest courage. for in these grave undertakings, no one who is without such experience, however bold and resolute, is to be trusted. the confusion of which i speak may either cause you to drop your weapon from your hand, or to use words which will have the same results. quintianus being commanded by lucilla, sister of commodus, to slay him, lay in wait for him at the entrance of the amphitheatre, and rushing upon him with a drawn dagger, cried out, "_the senate sends you this_;" which words caused him to be seized before his blow descended. in like manner messer antonio of volterra, who as we have elsewhere seen was told off to kill lorenzo de' medici, exclaimed as he approached him, "_ah traitor!_" and this exclamation proved the salvation of lorenzo and the ruin of that conspiracy. for the reasons now given, a conspiracy against a single ruler may readily break down in its execution; but a conspiracy against two rulers is not only difficult, but so hazardous that its success is almost hopeless. for to effect like actions, at the same time, in different places, is well-nigh impossible; nor can they be effected at different times, if you would not have one counteract another. so that if conspiracy against a single ruler be imprudent and dangerous, to conspire against two, is in the last degree fool-hardy and desperate. and were it not for the respect in which i hold the historian, i could not credit as possible what herodian relates of plautianus, namely, that he committed to the centurion saturninus the task of slaying single-handed both severus and caracalla, they dwelling in different places; for the thing is so opposed to reason that on no other authority could i be induced to accept it as true. certain young athenians conspired against diocles and hippias, tyrants of athens. diocles they slew; but hippias, making his escape, avenged him. chion and leonidas of heraclea, disciples of plato, conspired against the despots clearchus and satirus. clearchus fell, but satirus survived and avenged him. the pazzi, of whom we have spoken so often, succeeded in murdering giuliano only. from such conspiracies, therefore, as are directed against more heads than one, all should abstain; for no good is to be got from them, whether for ourselves, for our country, or for any one else. on the contrary, when those conspired against escape, they become harsher and more unsufferable than before, as, in the examples given, florence, athens, and heraclea had cause to know. true it is that the conspiracy contrived by pelopidas for the liberation of his country, had to encounter every conceivable hindrance, and yet had the happiest end. for pelopidas had to deal, not with two tyrants only, but with ten; and so far from having their confidence, could not, being an outlaw, even approach them. and yet he succeeded in coming to thebes, in putting the tyrants to death, and in freeing his country. but whatever he did was done with the aid of one of the counsellors of the tyrants, a certain charon, through whom he had all facilities for executing his design. let none, however, take this case as a pattern; for that it was in truth a desperate attempt, and its success a marvel, was and is the opinion of all historians, who speak of it as a thing altogether extraordinary and unexampled. the execution of a plot may be frustrated by some groundless alarm or unforeseen mischance occurring at the very moment when the scheme is to be carried out. on the morning on which brutus and his confederates were to slay cæsar, it so happened that cæsar talked for a great while with cneus pompilius lenas, one of the conspirators; which some of the others observing, were in terror that pompilius was divulging the conspiracy to cæsar; whose life they would therefore have attempted then and there, without waiting his arrival in the senate house, had they not been reassured by seeing that when the conference ended he showed no sign of unusual emotion. false alarms of this sort are to be taken into account and allowed for, all the more that they are easily raised. for he who has not a clear conscience is apt to assume that others are speaking of him. a word used with a wholly different purpose, may throw his mind off its balance and lead him to fancy that reference is intended to the matter he is engaged on, and cause him either to betray the conspiracy by flight, or to derange its execution by anticipating the time fixed. and the more there are privy to the conspiracy, the likelier is this to happen. as to the mischances which may befall, since these are unforeseen, they can only be instanced by examples which may make men more cautious. giulio belanti of siena, of whom i have spoken before, from the hate he bore pandolfo petrucci, who had given him his daughter to wife and afterwards taken her from him, resolved to murder him, and thus chose his time. almost every day pandolfo went to visit a sick kinsman, passing the house of giulio on the way, who, remarking this, took measures to have his accomplices ready in his house to kill pandolfo as he passed. wherefore, placing the rest armed within the doorway, one he stationed at a window to give the signal of pandolfo's approach. it so happened however, that as he came nigh the house, and after the look-out had given the signal, pandolfo fell in with a friend who stopped him to converse; when some of those with him, going on in advance, saw and heard the gleam and clash of weapons, and so discovered the ambuscade; whereby pandolfo was saved, while giulio with his companions had to fly from siena. this plot accordingly was marred, and giulio's schemes baulked, in consequence of a chance meeting. against such accidents, since they are out of the common course of things, no provision can be made. still it is very necessary to take into account all that may happen, and devise what remedies you can. it now only remains for us to consider those dangers which follow after the execution of a plot. these in fact resolve themselves into one, namely, that some should survive who will avenge the death of the murdered prince. the part of avenger is likely to be assumed by a son, a brother, or other kinsman of the deceased, who in the ordinary course of events might have looked to succeed to the princedom. and such persons are suffered to live, either from inadvertence, or from some of the causes noted already, as when giovann' andrea of lampognano, with the help of his companions, put to death the duke of milan. for the son and two brothers of the duke, who survived him, were able to avenge his death. in cases like this, indeed, the conspirators may be held excused, since there is nothing they can do to help themselves. but when from carelessness and want of due caution some one is allowed to live whose death ought to have been secured, there is no excuse. certain conspirators, after murdering the lord, count girolamo of forli, made prisoners of his wife and of his children who were still very young. by thinking they could not be safe unless they got possession of the citadel, which the governor refused to surrender, they obtained a promise from madonna caterina, for so the countess was named, that on their permitting her to enter the citadel she would cause it to be given up to them, her children in the mean time remaining with them as hostages. on which undertaking they suffered her to enter the citadel. but no sooner had she got inside than she fell to upbraid them from the walls with the murder of her husband, and to threaten them with every kind of vengeance; and to show them how little store she set upon her children, told them scoffingly that she knew how others could be got. in the end, the rebels having no leader to advise them, and perceiving too late the error into which they had been betrayed, had to pay the penalty of their rashness by perpetual banishment. but of all the dangers which may follow on the execution of a plot, none is so much or so justly to be feared as that the people should be well affected to the prince whom you have put to death. for against this danger conspirators have no resource which can ensure their safety. of this we have example in the case of cæsar, who as he had the love of the roman people was by them avenged; for they it was who, by driving out the conspirators from rome, were the cause that all of them, at different times and in different places, came to violent ends. conspiracies against their country are less danger for those who take part in them than conspiracies against princes; since there is less risk beforehand, and though there be the same danger in their execution, there is none afterwards. beforehand, the risks are few, because a citizen may use means for obtaining power without betraying his wishes or designs to any; and unless his course be arrested, his designs are likely enough to succeed; nay, though laws be passed to restrain him, he may strike out a new path. this is to be understood of a commonwealth which has to some degree become corrupted; for in one wherein there is no taint of corruption, there being no soil in which evil seed can grow, such designs will never suggest themselves to any citizen. in a commonwealth, therefore, a citizen may by many means and in many ways aspire to the princedom without risking destruction, both because republics are slower than princes are to take alarm, are less suspicious and consequently less cautious, and because they look with greater reverence upon their great citizens, who are in this way rendered bolder and more reckless in attacking them. any one who has read sallust's account of the conspiracy of catiline, must remember how, when that conspiracy was discovered, catiline not only remained in rome, but even made his appearance in the senatehouse, where he was suffered to address the senate in the most insulting terms,--so scrupulous was that city in protecting the liberty of all its citizens. nay, even after he had left rome and placed himself at the head of his army, lentulus and his other accomplices would not have been imprisoned, had not letters been found upon them clearly establishing their guilt. hanno, the foremost citizen of carthage, aspiring to absolute power, on the occasion of the marriage of a daughter contrived a plot for administering poison to the whole senate and so making himself prince. the scheme being discovered, the senate took no steps against him beyond passing a law to limit the expense of banquets and marriage ceremonies. so great was the respect they paid to his quality. true, the _execution_ of a plot against your country is attended with greater difficulty and danger, since it seldom happens that, in conspiring against so many, your own resources are sufficient by themselves; for it is not every one who, like cæsar, agathocles, or cleomenes, is at the head of an army, so as to be able at a stroke, and by open force to make himself master of his country. to such as these, doubtless, the path is safe and easy enough; but others who have not such an assembled force ready at their command, must effect their ends either by stratagem and fraud, or with the help of foreign troops. of such stratagems and frauds we have an instance in the case of pisistratus the athenian, who after defeating the megarians and thereby gaining the favour of his fellow-citizens, showed himself to them one morning covered with wounds and blood, declaring that he had been thus outraged through the jealousy of the nobles, and asking that he might have an armed guard assigned for his protection. with the authority which this lent him, he easily rose to such a pitch of power as to become tyrant of athens. in like manner pandolfo petrucci, on his return with the other exiles to siena, was appointed the command of the public guard, as a mere office of routine which others had declined. very soon, however, this armed force gave him so much importance that he became the supreme ruler of the state. and many others have followed other plans and methods, and in the course of time, and without incurring danger, have achieved their aim. conspirators against their country, whether trusting to their own forces or to foreign aid, have had more or less success in proportion as they have been favoured by fortune. catiline, of whom we spoke just now, was overthrown. hanno, who has also been mentioned, failing to accomplish his object by poison, armed his partisans to the number of many thousands; but both he and they came to an ill end. on the other hand, certain citizens of thebes conspiring to become its tyrants, summoned a spartan army to their assistance, and usurped the absolute control of the city. in short, if we examine all the conspiracies which men have engaged in against their country, we shall find that few or none have been quelled in their inception, but that all have either succeeded, or have broken down in their execution. once executed, they entail no further risks beyond those implied in the nature of a princedom. for the man who becomes a tyrant incurs all the natural and ordinary dangers in which a tyranny involves him, and has no remedies against them save those of which i have already spoken. this is all that occurs to me to say on the subject of conspiracies. if i have noticed those which have been carried out with the sword rather than those wherein poison has been the instrument, it is because, generally speaking, the method of proceeding is the same in both. it is true, nevertheless, that conspiracies which are to be carried out by poison are, by reason of their uncertainty, attended by greater danger. for since fewer opportunities offer for their execution, you must have an understanding with persons who can command opportunities. but it is dangerous to have to depend on others. again, many causes may hinder a poisoned draught from proving mortal; as when the murderers of commodus, on his vomiting the poison given him, had to strangle him. princes, then, have no worse enemy than conspiracy, for when a conspiracy is formed against them, it either carries them off, or discredits them: since, if it succeeds, they die; while, if it be discovered, and the conspirators be put to death themselves, it will always be believed that the whole affair has been trumped up by the prince that he might glut his greed and cruelty with the goods and blood of those whom he has made away with. let me not, however, forget to warn the prince or commonwealth against whom a conspiracy is directed, that on getting word of it, and before taking any steps to punish it, they endeavour, as far as they can, to ascertain its character, and after carefully weighing the strength of the conspirators with their own, on finding it preponderate, never suffer their knowledge of the plot to appear until they are ready with a force sufficient to crush it. for otherwise, to disclose their knowledge will only give the signal for their destruction. they must strive therefore to seem unconscious of what is going on; for conspirators who see themselves detected are driven forward by necessity and will stick at nothing. of this precaution we have an example in roman history, when the officers of the two legions, who, as has already been mentioned, were left behind to defend the capuans from the samnites, conspired together against the capuans. for on rumours of this conspiracy reaching rome, rutilius the new consul was charged to see to it; who, not to excite the suspicions of the conspirators, publicly gave out that by order of the senate the capuan legions were continued in their station. the conspirators believing this, and thinking they would have ample time to execute their plans, made no effort to hasten matters, but remained at their ease, until they found that the consul was moving one of the two legions to a distance from the other. this arousing their suspicion, led them to disclose their designs and endeavour to carry them out. now, we could have no more instructive example than this in whatever way we look at it. for it shows how slow men are to move in those matters wherein time seems of little importance, and how active they become when necessity urges them. nor can a prince or commonwealth desiring for their own ends to retard the execution of a conspiracy, use any more effectual means to do so, than by artfully holding out to the conspirators some special opportunity as likely soon to present itself; awaiting which, and believing they have time and to spare for what they have to do, they will afford that prince or commonwealth all the leisure needed to prepare for their punishment. whosoever neglects these precautions hastens his own destruction, as happened with the duke of athens, and with guglielmo de' pazzi. for the duke, who had made himself tyrant of florence, on learning that he was being conspired against, without further inquiry into the matter, caused one of the conspirators to be seized; whereupon the rest at once armed themselves and deprived him of his government. guglielmo, again, being commissary in the val di chiana in the year , and learning that a conspiracy was being hatched in arezzo to take the town from the florentines and give it over to the vitelli, repaired thither with all haste; and without providing himself with the necessary forces or giving a thought to the strength of the conspirators, on the advice of the bishop, his son, had one of them arrested. which becoming known to the others, they forthwith rushed to arms, and taking the town from the florentines, made guglielmo their prisoner. where, however, conspiracies are weak, they may and should be put down without scruple or hesitation. two methods, somewhat opposed to one another, which have occasionally been followed in dealing with conspiracies, are in no way to be commended. one of these was that adopted by the duke of athens, of whom i have just now spoken, who to have it thought that he confided in the goodwill of the florentines, caused a certain man who gave information of a plot against him, to be put to death. the other was that followed by dion the syracusan, who, to sound the intentions of one whom he suspected, arranged with calippus, whom he trusted, to pretend to get up a conspiracy against him. neither of these tyrants reaped any advantage from the course he followed. for the one discouraged informers and gave heart to those who were disposed to conspire, the other prepared an easy road to his own death, or rather was prime mover in a conspiracy against himself. as the event showed. for calippus having free leave to plot against dion, plotted to such effect, that he deprived him at once of his state and life. [footnote : _tac. hist._ iv. .] [footnote : ad generum cereris sine caede et vulnere pauci descendunt reges, et sicca morte tiranni. _juv. sat._ x. .] chapter vii.--_why it is that changes from freedom to servitude, and from servitude to freedom, are sometimes made without bloodshed, but at other times reek with blood_. since we find from history that in the countless changes which have been made from freedom to servitude and from servitude to freedom, sometimes an infinite multitude have perished, while at others not a soul has suffered (as when rome made her change from kings to consuls, on which occasion none was banished save tarquin, and no harm was done to any other), it may perhaps be asked, how it happens that of these revolutions, some have been attended by bloodshed and others not. the answer i take to be this. the government which suffers change either has or has not had its beginning in violence. and since the government which has its beginning in violence must start by inflicting injuries on many, it must needs happen that on its downfall those who were injured will desire to avenge themselves; from which desire for vengeance the slaughter and death of many will result. but when a government originates with, and derives its authority from the whole community, there is no reason why the community, if it withdraw that authority, should seek to injure any except the prince from whom it withdraws it. now the government of rome was of this nature, and the expulsion of the tarquins took place in this way. of a like character was the government of the medici in florence, and, accordingly, upon their overthrow in the year , no injury was done to any save themselves. in such cases, therefore, the changes i speak of do not occasion any very great danger. but the changes wrought by men who have wrongs to revenge, are always of a most dangerous kind, and such, to say the least, as may well cause dismay in the minds of those who read of them. but since history abounds with instances of such changes i need say no more about them. chapter viii.--_that he who would effect changes in a commonwealth, must give heed to its character and condition_ i have said before that a bad citizen cannot work grave mischief in a commonwealth which has not become corrupted. this opinion is not only supported by the arguments already advanced, but is further confirmed by the examples of spurius cassius and manlius capitolinus. for spurius, being ambitious, and desiring to obtain extraordinary authority in rome, and to win over the people by loading them with benefits (as, for instance, by selling them those lands which the romans had taken from the hernici,) his designs were seen through by the senate, and laid him under such suspicion, that when in haranguing the people he offered them the money realized by the sale of the grain brought from sicily at the public expense, they would have none of it, believing that he offered it as the price of their freedom. now, had the people been corrupted, they would not have refused this bribe, but would have opened rather than closed the way to the tyranny. the example of manlius is still more striking. for in his case we see what excellent gifts both of mind and body, and what splendid services to his country were afterwards cancelled by that shameful eagerness to reign which we find bred in him by his jealousy of the honours paid camillus. for so darkened did his mind become, that without reflecting what were the institutions to which rome was accustomed, or testing the material he had to work on, when he would have seen that it was still unfit to be moulded to evil ends, he set himself to stir up tumults against the senate and against the laws of his country. and herein we recognize the excellence of this city of rome, and of the materials whereof it was composed. for although the nobles were wont to stand up stoutly for one another, not one of them stirred to succour manlius, and not one of his kinsfolk made any effort on his behalf, so that although it was customary, in the case of other accused persons, for their friends to put on black and sordid raiment, with all the other outward signs of grief, in order to excite pity for the accused, none was seen to do any of these things for manlius. even the tribunes of the people, though constantly ready to promote whatever courses seemed to favour the popular cause, and the more vehemently the more they seemed to make against the nobles, in this instance sided with the nobles to put down the common enemy. nay the very people themselves, keenly alive to their own interests, and well disposed towards any attempt to damage the nobles, though they showed manlius many proofs of their regard, nevertheless, when he was cited by the tribunes to appear before them and submit his cause for their decision, assumed the part of judges and not of defenders, and without scruple or hesitation sentenced him to die. wherefore, i think, that there is no example in the whole roman history which serves so well as this to demonstrate the virtues of all ranks in that republic. for not a man in the whole city bestirred himself to shield a citizen endowed with every great quality, and who, both publicly and privately, had done so much that deserved praise. but in all, the love of country outweighed every other thought, and all looked less to his past deserts than to the dangers which his present conduct threatened; from which to relieve themselves they put him to death. "_such_," says livius, "_was the fate of a man worthy our admiration had he not been born in a free state_." and here two points should be noted. the first, that glory is to be sought by different methods in a corrupt city, and in one which still preserves its freedom. the second, which hardly differs from the first, that in their actions, and especially in matters of moment, men must have regard to times and circumstances and adapt themselves thereto. for those persons who from an unwise choice, or from natural inclination, run counter to the times will for the most part live unhappily, and find all they undertake issue in failure; whereas those who accommodate themselves to the times are fortunate and successful. and from the passage cited we may plainly infer, that had manlius lived in the days of marius and sylla, when the body of the state had become corrupted, so that he could have impressed it with the stamp of his ambition, he might have had the same success as they had, and as those others had who after them aspired to absolute power; and, conversely, that if sylla and marius had lived in the days of manlius, they must have broken down at the very beginning of their attempts. for one man, by mischievous arts and measures, may easily prepare the ground for the universal corruption of a city; but no one man in his lifetime can carry that corruption so far, as himself to reap the harvest; or granting that one man's life might be long enough for this purpose, it would be impossible for him, having regard to the ordinary habits of men, who grow impatient and cannot long forego the gratification of their desires, to wait until the corruption was complete. moreover, men deceive themselves in respect of their own affairs, and most of all in respect of those on which they are most bent; so that either from impatience or from self-deception, they rush upon undertakings for which the time is not ripe, and so come to an ill end. wherefore to obtain absolute authority in a commonwealth and to destroy its liberties, you must find the body of the state already corrupted, and corrupted by a gradual wasting continued from generation to generation; which, indeed, takes place necessarily, unless, as has been already explained, the state be often reinforced by good examples, or brought back to its first beginnings by wise laws. manlius, therefore, would have been a rare and renowned man had he been born in a corrupt city; and from his example we see that citizens seeking to introduce changes in the form of their government, whether in favour of liberty or despotism, ought to consider what materials they have to deal with, and then judge of the difficulty of their task. for it is no less arduous and dangerous to attempt to free a people disposed to live in servitude, than to enslave a people who desire to live free. and because it has been said above, that in their actions men must take into account the character of the times in which they live, and guide themselves accordingly, i shall treat this point more fully in the following chapter. chapter ix.--_that to enjoy constant good fortune we must change with the times._ i have repeatedly noted that the good or bad fortune of men depends on whether their methods of acting accord with the character of the times. for we see that in what they do some men act impulsively, others warily and with caution. and because, from inability to preserve the just mean, they in both of these ways overstep the true limit, they commit mistakes in one direction or the other. he, however, will make fewest mistakes, and may expect to prosper most, who, while following the course to which nature inclines him, finds, as i have said, his method of acting in accordance with the times in which he lives. all know that in his command of the roman armies, fabius maximus displayed a prudence and caution very different from the audacity and hardihood natural to his countrymen; and it was his good fortune that his methods suited with the times. for hannibal coming into italy in all the flush of youth and recent success, having already by two defeats stripped rome of her best soldiers and filled her with dismay, nothing could have been more fortunate for that republic than to find a general able, by his deliberateness and caution, to keep the enemy at bay. nor, on the other hand, could fabius have fallen upon times better suited to the methods which he used, and by which he crowned himself with glory. that he acted in accordance with his natural bent, and not from a reasoned choice, we may gather from this, that when scipio, to bring the war to an end, proposed to pass with his army into africa, fabius, unable to depart from his characteristic methods and habits, strenuously opposed him; so that had it rested with him, hannibal might never have left italy. for he perceived not that the times had changed, and that with them it was necessary to change the methods of prosecuting the war. had fabius, therefore, been king of rome, he might well have caused the war to end unhappily, not knowing how to accommodate his methods to the change in the times. as it was, he lived in a commonwealth in which there were many citizens, and many different dispositions; and which as it produced a fabius, excellent at a time when it was necessary to protract hostilities, so also, afterwards gave birth to a scipio, at a time suited to bring them to a successful close. and hence it comes that a commonwealth endures longer, and has a more sustained good fortune than a princedom, because from the diversity in the characters of its citizens, it can adapt itself better than a prince can to the diversity of times. for, as i have said before, a man accustomed to follow one method, will never alter it; whence it must needs happen that when times change so as no longer to accord with his method, he will be ruined. piero soderini, of whom i have already spoken, was guided in all his actions by patience and gentleness, and he and his country prospered while the times were in harmony with these methods. but, afterwards, when a time came when it behoved him to have done with patience and gentleness, he knew not how to drop them, and was ruined together with his country. pope julius ii., throughout the whole of his pontificate, was governed by impulse and passion, and because the times were in perfect accord, all his undertakings prospered. but had other times come requiring other qualities, he could not have escaped destruction, since he could not have changed his methods nor his habitual line of conduct. as to why such changes are impossible, two reasons may be given. one is that we cannot act in opposition to the bent of our nature. the other, that when a man has been very successful while following a particular method, he can never be convinced that it is for his advantage to try some other. and hence it results that a man's fortunes vary, because times change and he does not change with them. so, too, with commonwealths, which, as we have already shown at length, are ruined from not altering their institutions to suit the times. and commonwealths are slower to change than princes are, changes costing them more effort; because occasions must be waited for which shall stir the whole community, and it is not enough that a single citizen alters his method of acting. but since i have made mention of fabius maximus who wore out hannibal by keeping him at bay, i think it opportune to consider in the following chapter whether a general who desires to engage his enemy at all risks, can be prevented by that enemy from doing so. chapter x.--_that a captain cannot escape battle when his enemy forces it on him at all risks._ "_cneius sulpitius when appointed dictator against the gauls, being unwilling to tempt fortune by attacking an enemy whom delay and a disadvantageous position would every day render weaker, protracted the war._" when a mistake is made of a sort that all or most men are likely to fall into, i think it not amiss to mark it again and again with disapproval. wherefore, although i have already shown repeatedly how in affairs of moment the actions of the moderns conform not to those of antiquity, still it seems to me not superfluous, in this place, to say the same thing once more. for if in any particular the moderns have deviated from the methods of the ancients, it is especially in their methods of warfare, wherein not one of those rules formerly so much esteemed is now attended to. and this because both princes and commonwealths have devolved the charge of such matters upon others, and, to escape danger, have kept aloof from all military service; so that although one or another of the princes of our times may occasionally be seen present in person with his army, we are not therefore to expect from him any further praiseworthy behaviour. for even where such personages take part in any warlike enterprise, they do so out of ostentation and from no nobler motive; though doubtless from sometimes seeing their soldiers face to face, and from retaining to themselves the title of command, they are likely to make fewer blunders than we find made by republics, and most of all by the republics of italy, which though altogether dependent upon others, and themselves utterly ignorant of everything relating to warfare, do yet, that they may figure as the commanders of their armies, take upon them to direct their movements, and in doing so commit countless mistakes; some of which have been considered elsewhere but one is of such importance as to deserve notice here. when these sluggard princes or effeminate republics send forth any of their captains, it seems to them that the wisest instruction they can give him is to charge him on no account to give battle, but, on the contrary, to do what he can to avoid fighting. wherein they imagine themselves to imitate the prudence of fabius maximus, who by protracting the war with hannibal, saved the roman commonwealth; not perceiving that in most instances such advice to a captain is either useless or hurtful. for the truth of the matter is, that a captain who would keep the field, cannot decline battle when his adversary forces it on him at all hazards. so that the instruction to avoid battle is but tantamount to saying, "you shall engage when it pleases your enemy, and not when it suits yourself." for if you would keep the field and yet avoid battle, the only safe course is to interpose a distance of at least fifty miles between you and your enemy, and afterwards to maintain so vigilant a look-out, that should he advance you will have time to make your retreat. another method is to shut yourself up in some town. but both of these methods are extremely disadvantageous. for by following the former, you leave your country a prey to the enemy, and a valiant prince would far sooner risk the chances of battle than prolong a war in a manner so disastrous to his subjects; while by adopting the latter method, and shutting yourself up in a town with your army, there is manifest danger of your being besieged, and presently reduced by famine and forced to surrender. wherefore it is most mischievous to seek to avoid battle in either of these two ways. to intrench yourself in a strong position, as fabius was wont to do, is a good method when your army is so formidable that the enemy dare not advance to attack you in your intrenchments; yet it cannot truly be said that fabius avoided battle, but rather that he sought to give battle where he could do so with advantage. for had hannibal desired to fight, fabius would have waited for him and fought him. but hannibal never dared to engage him on his own ground. so that an engagement was avoided as much by hannibal as by fabius, since if either had been minded to fight at all hazards the other would have been constrained to take one of three courses, that is to say, one or other of the two just now mentioned, or else to retreat. the truth of this is confirmed by numberless examples, and more particularly by what happened in the war waged by the romans against philip of macedon, the father of perseus. for philip being invaded by the romans, resolved not to give them battle; and to avoid battle, sought at first to do as fabius had done in italy, posting himself on the summit of a hill, where he intrenched himself strongly, thinking that the romans would not venture to attack him there. but they advancing and attacking him in his intrenchments, drove him from his position; when, unable to make further resistance, he fled with the greater part of his army, and was only saved from utter destruction by the difficulty of the ground, which made it impossible for the romans to pursue him. philip, therefore, who had no mind to fight, encamping too near the romans, was forced to fly; and learning from this experience that to escape fighting it was not enough for him to intrench himself on a hill, yet not choosing to shut himself up in a walled town, he was constrained to take the other alternative of keeping at a distance of many miles from the roman legions. accordingly, when the romans entered one province, he betook himself to another, and when they left a province he entered it. but perceiving that by protracting the war in this way, his condition grew constantly worse, while his subjects suffered grievously, now from his own troops, at another time from those of the enemy, he at last resolved to hazard battle, and so came to a regular engagement with the romans. it is for your interest, therefore, not to fight, when you possess the same advantages as fabius, or as cneius sulpitius had; in other words, when your army is so formidable in itself that the enemy dare not attack you in your intrenchments, and although he has got within your territory has yet gained no footing there, and suffers in consequence from the want of necessary supplies. in such circumstances delay is useful, for the reasons assigned by titus livius when speaking of sulpitius. in no other circumstances, however, can an engagement be avoided without dishonour or danger. for to retire as philip did, is nothing else than defeat; and the disgrace is greater in proportion as your valour has been less put to the proof. and if philip was lucky enough to escape, another, not similarly favoured by the nature of the ground, might not have the same good fortune. that hannibal was not a master in the arts of warfare there is none will venture to maintain. wherefore, when he had to encounter scipio in africa, it may be assumed that had he seen any advantage in prolonging the war he would have done so; and, possibly, being a skilful captain and in command of a valiant army, he might have been able to do what fabius did in italy. but since he took not that course, we may infer that he was moved by sufficient reasons. for the captain who has got an army together, and perceives that from want of money or friends he cannot maintain it long, must be a mere madman if he do not at once, and before his army melts away, try the fortunes of battle; since he is certain to lose by delay, while by fighting he may chance to succeed. and there is this also to be kept in view, that we must strive, even if we be defeated, to gain glory; and that more glory is to be won in being beaten by force, than in a defeat from any other cause. and this we may suppose to have weighed with hannibal. on the other hand, supposing hannibal to have declined battle, scipio, even if he had lacked courage to follow him up and attack him in his intrenched camp, would not have suffered thereby; for as he had defeated syphax, and got possession of many of the african towns, he could have rested where he was in the same security and with the same convenience as if he had been in italy. but this was not the case with hannibal when he had to encounter fabius, nor with the gauls when they were opposed to sulpitius. least of all can he decline battle who invades with his army the country of another; for seeking to enter his enemy's country, he must fight whenever the enemy comes forward to meet him; and is under still greater necessity to fight, if he undertake the siege of any town. as happened in our own day with duke charles of burgundy, who, when beleaguering morat, a town of the swiss, was by them attacked and routed; or as happened with the french army encamped against novara, which was in like manner defeated by the swiss. chapter xi.--_that one who has to contend with many, though he be weaker than they, will prevail if he can withstand their first onset._ the power exercised in rome by the tribunes of the people was great, and, as i have repeatedly explained, was necessary, since otherwise there would have been no check on the ambition of the nobles, and the commonwealth must have grown corrupted far sooner than it did. but because, as i have said elsewhere, there is in everything a latent evil peculiar to it, giving rise to new mischances, it becomes necessary to provide against these by new ordinances. the authority of the tribunes, therefore, being insolently asserted so as to become formidable to the nobility and to the entire city, disorders dangerous to the liberty of the state must thence have resulted, had not a method been devised by appius claudius for controlling the ambition of the tribunes. this was, to secure that there should always be one of their number timid, or venal, or else a lover of the general good, who could be influenced to oppose the rest whenever these sought to pass any measure contrary to the wishes of the senate. this remedy was a great restraint on the excessive authority of the tribunes, and on many occasions proved serviceable to rome. i am led by this circumstance to remark, that when many powerful persons are united against one, who, although no match for the others collectively, is also powerful, the chances are more in favour of this single and less i powerful person, than of the many who together are much stronger. for setting aside an infinity of accidents which can be turned to better account by one than by many, it will always happen that, by exercising a little dexterity, the one will be able to divide the many, and weaken the force which was strong while it was united. in proof whereof, i shall not refer to ancient examples, though many such might be cited, but content myself with certain modern instances taken from the events of our own times. in the year , all italy combined against the venetians, who finding their position desperate, and being unable to keep their army any longer in the field, bribed signer lodovico, who then governed milan, and so succeeded in effecting a settlement, whereby they not only recovered the towns they had lost, but also obtained for themselves a part of the territories of ferrara; so that those were by peace the gainers, who in war had been the losers. not many years ago the whole world was banded together against france; but before the war came to a close, spain breaking with the confederates and entering into a separate treaty with france, the other members of the league also, were presently forced to make terms. wherefore we may always assume when we see a war set on foot by many against one, that this one, if he have strength to withstand the first shock, and can temporize and wait his opportunity, is certain to prevail. but unless he can do this he runs a thousand dangers: as did the venetians in the year , who, could they have temporized with the french, and so got time to conciliate some of those who had combined against them, might have escaped the ruin which then overtook them. but not possessing such a strong army as would have enabled them to temporize with their enemies, and consequently not having the time needed for gaining any to their side, they were undone. yet we know that the pope, as soon as he had obtained what he wanted, made friends with them, and that spain did the like; and that both the one and the other of these powers would gladly have saved the lombard territory for themselves, nor would, if they could have helped it, have left it to france, so as to augment her influence in italy. the venetians, therefore, should have given up a part to save the rest; and had they done so at a time when the surrender would not have seemed to be made under compulsion, and before any step had been taken in the direction of war, it would have been a most prudent course; although discreditable and probably of little avail after war had been begun. but until the war broke out, few of the venetian citizens recognized the danger, fewer still the remedy, and none ventured to prescribe it. but to return to the point whence we started, i say that the same safeguard for their country which the roman senate found against the ambition of the tribunes in their number, is within the reach of the prince who is attacked by many adversaries, if he only know to use prudently those methods which promote division. chapter xii.--_a prudent captain will do what he can to make it necessary for his own soldiers to fight, and to relieve his enemy from that necessity._ elsewhere i have noted how greatly men are governed in what they do by necessity, and how much of their renown is due to her guidance, so that it has even been said by some philosophers, that the hands and tongues of men, the two noblest instruments of their fame, would never have worked to perfection, nor have brought their labours to that pitch of excellence we see them to have reached, had they not been impelled by this cause. the captains of antiquity, therefore, knowing the virtues of this necessity, and seeing the steadfast courage which it gave their soldiers in battle, spared no effort to bring their armies under its influence, while using all their address to loosen its hold upon their enemies. for which reason, they would often leave open to an adversary some way which they might have closed, and close against their own men some way they might have left open. whosoever, therefore, would have a city defend itself stubbornly, or an army fight resolutely in the field, must before all things endeavour to impress the minds of those whom he commands with the belief that no other course is open to them. in like manner a prudent captain who undertakes the attack of a city, will measure the ease or difficulty of his enterprise, by knowing and considering the nature of the necessity which compels the inhabitants to defend it; and where he finds that necessity to be strong, he may infer that his task will be difficult, but if otherwise, that it will be easy. and hence it happens that cities are harder to be recovered after a revolt than to be taken for the first time. because on a first attack, having no occasion to fear punishment, since they have given no ground of offence, they readily surrender; but when they have revolted, they know that they have given ground of offence, and, fearing punishment, are not so easily brought under. a like stubbornness grows from the natural hostility with which princes or republics who are neighbours regard one another; which again is caused by the desire to dominate over those who live near, or from jealousy of their power. this is more particularly the case with republics, as in tuscany for example; for contention and rivalry have always made, and always will make it extremely hard for one republic to bring another into subjection. and for this reason any one who considers attentively who are the neighbours of florence, and who of venice, will not marvel so much as some have done, that florence should have spent more than venice on her wars and gained less; since this results entirely from the venetians finding their neighbouring towns less obstinate in their resistance than the florentines theirs. for all the towns in the neighbourhood of venice have been used to live under princes and not in freedom; and those who are used to servitude commonly think little of changing masters, nay are often eager for the change. in this way venice, though she has had more powerful neighbours than florence, has been able, from finding their towns less stubborn, to subdue them more easily than the latter, surrounded exclusively by free cities, has had it in her power to do. but, to return to the matter in hand, the captain who attacks a town should use what care he can, not to drive the defenders to extremities, lest he render them stubborn; but when they fear punishment should promise them pardon, and when they fear for their freedom should assure them that he has no designs against the common welfare, but only against a few ambitious men in their city; for such assurances have often smoothed the way to the surrender of towns. and although pretexts of this sort are easily seen through, especially by the wise, the mass of the people are often beguiled by them, because desiring present tranquillity, they shut their eyes to the snares hidden behind these specious promises. by means such as these, therefore, cities innumerable have been brought into subjection, as recently was the case with florence. the ruin of crassus and his army was similarly caused: for although he himself saw through the empty promises of the parthians, as meant only to blind the roman soldiers to the necessity of defending themselves, yet he could not keep his men steadfast, they, as we clearly gather in reading the life of this captain, being deceived by the offers of peace held out to them by their enemies. on the other hand, when the samnites, who, at the instance of a few ambitious men, and in violation of the terms of the truce made with them, had overrun and pillaged lands belonging to the allies of rome, afterwards sent envoys to rome to implore peace, offering to restore whatever they had taken, and to surrender the authors of these injuries and outrages as prisoners, and these offers were rejected by the romans, and the envoys returned to samnium bringing with them no hope of an adjustment, claudius pontius, who then commanded the army of the samnites, showed them in a remarkable speech, that the romans desired war at all hazards, and declared that, although for the sake of his country he wished for peace, necessity constrained him to prepare for war; telling them "_that was a just war which could not be escaped, and those arms sacred in which lay their only hopes._" and building on this necessity, he raised in the minds of his soldiers a confident expectation of success. that i may not have to revert to this matter again, it will be convenient to notice here those examples from roman history which most merit attention. when caius manilius was in command of the legions encamped against veii, a division of the veientine army having got within the roman intrenchments, manilius ran forward with a company of his men to defend them, and, to prevent the escape of the veientines, guarded all the approaches to the camp. the veientines finding themselves thus shut in, began to fight with such fury that they slew manilius, and would have destroyed all the rest of the roman army, had not the prudence of one of the tribunes opened a way for the veientines to retreat. here we see that so long as necessity compelled, the veientines fought most fiercely, but on finding a path opened for escape, preferred flight to combat. on another occasion when the volscians and equians passed with their armies across the roman frontier, the consuls were sent out to oppose them, and an engagement ensued. it so happened that when the combat was at its height, the army of the volscians, commanded by vectius mescius, suddenly found themselves shut in between their own camp, which a division of the romans had occupied, and the body of the roman army; when seeing that they must either perish or cut a way for themselves with their swords, vectius said to them, "_come on, my men, here is no wall or rampart to be scaled: we fight man with man; in valour we are their equals, and necessity, that last and mightiest weapon, gives us the advantage._" here, then, necessity is spoken of by titus livius as _the last and mightiest weapon_. camillus, the wisest and most prudent of all the roman commanders, when he had got within the town of veii with his army, to make its surrender easier and not to drive its inhabitants to desperation, called out to his men, so that the veientines might hear, to spare all whom they found unarmed. whereupon the defenders throwing away their weapons, the town was taken almost without bloodshed. and this device was afterwards followed by many other captains. chapter xiii.--_whether we may trust more to a valiant captain with a weak army, or to a valiant army with a weak captain._ coriolanus being banished from rome betook himself to the volscians, and when he had got together an army wherewith to avenge himself on his countrymen, came back to rome; yet, again withdrew, not constrained to retire by the might of the roman arms, but out of reverence for his mother. from this incident, says titus livius, we may learn that the spread of the roman power was due more to the valour of her captains than of her soldiers. for before this the volscians had always been routed, and only grew successful when coriolanus became their captain. but though livius be of this opinion, there are many passages in his history to show that the roman soldiers, even when left without leaders, often performed astonishing feats of valour, nay, sometimes maintained better discipline and fought with greater spirit after their consuls were slain than they had before. for example, the army under the scipios in spain, after its two leaders had fallen, was able by its valour not merely to secure its own safety, but to overcome the enemy and preserve the province for the roman republic. so that to state the case fairly, we find many instances in which the valour of the soldiers alone gained the day, as well as many in which success was wholly due to the excellence of the captain. from which it may be inferred that the one stands in need of the other. and here the question suggests itself: which is the more formidable, a good army badly led, or a good captain commanding an indifferent army; though, were we to adopt the opinion of cæsar on this head, we ought lightly to esteem both. for when cæsar went to spain against afranius and petreius, who were there in command of a strong army, he made little account of them, saying, "_that he went to fight an army without a captain_," indicating thereby the weakness of these generals. and, conversely, when he went to encounter pompeius in thessaly, he said, "_i go against a captain without an army_."[ ] a further question may also be raised, whether it is easier for a good captain to make a good army, or for a good army to make a good captain. as to this it might be thought there was barely room for doubt, since it ought to be far easier for many who are good to find one who is good or teach him to become so, than for one who is good to find or make many good. lucullus when sent against mithridates was wholly without experience in war: but his brave army, which was provided with many excellent officers, speedily taught him to be a good captain. on the other hand, when the romans, being badly off for soldiers, armed a number of slaves and gave them over to be drilled by sempronius gracchus, he in a short time made them into a serviceable army. so too, as i have already mentioned, pelopidas and epaminondas after rescuing thebes, their native city, from spartan thraldom, in a short time made such valiant soldiers of the theban peasantry, as to be able with their aid not only to withstand, but even to defeat the spartan armies. so that the question may seem to be equally balanced, excellence on one side generally finding excellence on the other. a good army, however, when left without a good leader, as the macedonian army was on the death of alexander, or as those veterans were who had fought in the civil wars, is apt to grow restless and turbulent. wherefore i am convinced that it is better to trust to the captain who has time allowed him to discipline his men, and means wherewith to equip them, than to a tumultuary host with a chance leader of its own choosing. but twofold is the merit and twofold the glory of those captains who not only have had to subdue their enemies, but also before encountering them to organize and discipline their forces. this, however, is a task requiring qualities so seldom combined, that were many of those captains who now enjoy a great name with the world, called on to perform it, they would be much less thought of than they are. [footnote : professus ante inter suos, ire se ad exercitum sine duce, et inde reversurum ad ducem sine exercitu. (_suet. in vita j. caes._)] chapter xiv.--_of the effect produced in battle by strange and unexpected sights or sounds._ that the disorder occasioned by strange and unexpected sights or sounds may have momentous consequences in combat, might be shown by many instances, but by none better than by what befell in the battle fought between the romans and the volscians, when quintius, the roman general, seeing one wing of his army begin to waver, shouted aloud to his men to stand firm, for the other wing was already victorious. which words of his giving confidence to his own troops and striking the enemy with dismay won him the battle. but if a cry like this, produce great effect on a well disciplined army, far greater must be its effect on one which is ill disciplined and disorderly. for by such a wind the whole mass will be moved, as i shall show by a well-known instance happening in our own times. a few years ago the city of perugia was split into the two factions of the baglioni and the oddi, the former holding the government, the latter being in exile. the oddeschi, however, with the help of friends, having got together an armed force which they lodged in villages of their own near perugia, obtained, by the favour of some of their party, an entrance into the city by night, and moving forward without discovery, came as far as the public square. and as all the streets of perugia are barred with chains drawn across them at their corners, the oddeschi had in front of them a man who carried an iron hammer wherewith to break the fastenings of the chains so that horsemen might pass. when the only chain remaining unbroken was that which closed the public square, the alarm having now been given, the hammerman was so impeded by the crowd pressing behind him that he could not raise his arm to strike freely. whereupon, to get more room for his work, he called aloud to the others to stand back; and the word back passing from rank to rank those furthest off began to run, and, presently, the others also, with such precipitancy, that they fell into utter disorder. in this way, and from this trifling circumstance, the attempt of the oddeschi came to nothing. here we may note that discipline is needed in an army, not so much to enable it to fight according to a settled order, as that it may not be thrown into confusion by every insignificant accident. for a tumultuary host is useless in war, simply because every word, or cry, or sound, may throw it into a panic and cause it to fly. wherefore it behoves a good captain to provide that certain fixed persons shall receive his orders and pass them on to the rest, and to accustom his soldiers to look to these persons, and to them only, to be informed what his orders are. for whenever this precaution is neglected the gravest mishaps are constantly seen to ensue. as regards strange and unexpected sights, every captain should endeavour while his army is actually engaged with the enemy, to effect some such feint or diversion as will encourage his own men and dismay his adversary since this of all things that can happen is the likeliest to ensure victory. in evidence whereof we may cite the example of cneius sulpitius, the roman dictator, who, when about to give battle to the gauls, after arming his sutlers and camp followers, mounted them on mules and other beasts of burden, furnished them with spears and banners to look like cavalry, and placing them behind a hill, ordered them on a given signal, when the fight was at the hottest, to appear and show themselves to the enemy. all which being carried out as he had arranged, threw the gauls into such alarm, that they lost the battle. a good captain, therefore, has two things to see to: first, to contrive how by some sudden surprise he may throw his enemy into confusion; and next, to be prepared should the enemy use a like stratagem against him to discover and defeat it; as the stratagem of semiramis was defeated by the king of india. for semiramis seeing that this king had elephants in great numbers, to dismay him by showing that she, too, was well supplied, caused the skins of many oxen and buffaloes to be sewn together in the shape of elephants and placed upon camels and sent to the front. but the trick being detected by the king, turned out not only useless but hurtful to its contriver. in a battle which the dictator mamercus fought against the people of fidenae, the latter, to strike terror into the minds of the romans, contrived that while the combat raged a number of soldiers should issue from fidenae bearing lances tipped with fire, thinking that the romans, disturbed by so strange a sight, would be thrown into confusion. we are to note, however, with regard to such contrivances, that if they are to serve any useful end, they should _be_ formidable as well as _seem_ so; for when they menace a real danger, their weak points are not so soon discerned. when they have more of pretence than reality, it will be well either to dispense with them altogether, or resorting to them, to keep them, like the muleteers of sulpitius, in the background, so that they be not too readily found out. for any weakness inherent in them is soon discovered if they be brought near, when, as happened with the elephants of semiramis and the fiery spears of the men of fidenae, they do harm rather than good. for although by this last-mentioned device the romans at the first were somewhat disconcerted, so soon as the dictator came up and began to chide them, asking if they were not ashamed to fly like bees from smoke, and calling on them to turn on their enemy, and "_with her own flames efface that fidenae whom their benefits could not conciliate_," they took courage; so that the device proved of no service to its contrivers, who were vanquished in the battle. chapter xv.--_that one and not many should head an army: and why it is harmful to have more leaders than one._ the men of fidenae rising against the colonists whom the romans had settled among them, and putting them to the sword, the romans to avenge the insult appointed four tribunes with consular powers: one of whom they retained to see to the defence of rome, while the other three were sent against the fidenati and the veientines. but these three falling out among themselves, and being divided in their counsels, returned from their mission with discredit though not with loss. of which discredit they were themselves the cause. that they sustained no loss was due to the valour of their soldiers but the senate perceiving the source of the mischief, to the end that one man might put to rights what three had thrown into confusion, resorted to the appointment of a dictator. here we see the disadvantage of having several leaders in one army or in a town which has to defend itself. and the case could not be put in clearer words than by titus livius, where he says, "_the three tribunes with consular authority gave proof how hurtful it is in war to have many leaders; for each forming a different opinion, and each abiding by his own, they threw opportunities in the way of their enemies._" and though this example suffice by itself to show the disadvantage in war of divided commands, to make the matter still plainer i shall cite two further instances, one ancient and one modern. in the year , louis xii. of france, after recovering milan, sent troops to restore pisa to the florentines, giovambattista ridolfi and luca d'antonio albizzi going with them as commissaries. now, because giovambattista had a great name, and was older than luca, the latter left the whole management of everything to him; and although he did not show his jealousy of him by opposing him, he betrayed it by his silence, and by being so careless and indifferent about everything, that he gave no help in the business of the siege either by word or deed, just as though he had been a person of no account. but when, in consequence of an accident, giovambattista had to return to florence, all this was changed; for luca, remaining in sole charge, behaved with the greatest courage, prudence, and zeal, all which qualities had been hidden while he held a joint command. further to bear me out i shall again borrow the words of titus livius, who, in relating how when quintius and agrippa his colleague were sent by the romans against the equians, agrippa contrived that the conduct of the war should rest with quintius, observes, "_most wholesome is it that in affairs of great moment, supreme authority be vested in one man._" very different, however, is the course followed by the republics and princes of our own days, who, thinking to be better served, are used to appoint several captains or commissioners to fill one command; a practice giving rise to so much confusion, that were we seeking for the causes of the overthrow of the french and italian armies in recent times, we should find this to be the most active of any. rightly, therefore, may we conclude that in sending forth an army upon service, it is wiser to entrust it to one man of ordinary prudence, than to two of great parts but with a divided command. chapter xvi.--_that in times of difficulty true worth is sought after; whereas in quiet times it is not the most deserving, but those who are recommended by wealth or connection who are most in favour._ it always has happened and always will, that the great and admirable men of a republic are neglected in peaceful times; because at such seasons many citizens are found, who, envying the reputation these men have justly earned, seek to be regarded not merely as their equals but as their superiors. touching this there is a notable passage in thucydides, the greek historian, where he tells how the republic of athens coming victorious out of the peloponessian war, wherein she had bridled the pride of sparta, and brought almost the whole of greece under her authority, was encouraged by the greatness of her renown to propose to herself the conquest of sicily. in athens this scheme was much debated, alcibiades and certain others who had the public welfare very little in their thoughts, but who hoped that the enterprise, were they placed in command, might minister to their fame, recommending that it should be undertaken. nicias, on the other hand, one of the best esteemed of the athenian citizens, was against it, and in addressing the people, gave it as the strongest reason for trusting his advice, that in advising them not to engage in this war, he urged what was not for his own advantage; for he knew that while athens remained at peace numberless citizens were ready to take precedence of him: whereas, were war declared, he was certain that none would rank before him or even be looked upon as his equal. here we see that in tranquil times republics are subject to the infirmity of lightly esteeming their worthiest citizens. and this offends these persons for two reasons: first, because they are not given the place they deserve; and second, because they see unworthy men and of abilities inferior to their own, as much or more considered than they. injustice such as this has caused the ruin of many republics. for citizens who find themselves undeservedly slighted, and perceive the cause to be that the times are tranquil and not troubled, will strive to change the times by stirring up wars hurtful to the public welfare. when i look for remedies for this state of things, i find two: first, to keep the citizens poor, so that wealth without worth shall corrupt neither them nor others; second, to be so prepared for war as always to be ready to make war; for then there will always be a need for worthy citizens, as was the case in rome in early times. for as rome constantly kept her armies in the field, there was constant opportunity for men to display their valour, nor was it possible to deprive a deserving man of his post and give it to another who was not deserving. or if ever this were done by inadvertency, or by way of experiment, there forthwith resulted such disorder and danger, that the city at once retraced its steps and reverted to the true path. but other republics which are not regulated on the same plan, and make war only when driven to it by necessity, cannot help committing this injustice, nay, will constantly run into it, when, if the great citizen who finds himself slighted be vindictive, and have some credit and following in the city, disorder will always ensue. and though rome escaped this danger for a time, she too, as has elsewhere been said, having no longer, after she had conquered carthage and antiochus, any fear of war, came to think she might commit her armies to whom she would, making less account of the valour of her captains than of those other qualities which gain favour with the people. accordingly we find paulus emilius rejected oftener than once when he sought the consulship; nor, in fact, obtaining it until the macedonian war broke out, which, being judged a formidable business, was by the voice of the whole city committed to his management. after the year our city of florence was involved in a series of wars, in conducting which none of our citizens had any success until chance threw the command into the hands of one who showed us how an army should be led. this was antonio giacomini, and so long as there were dangerous wars on foot, all rivalry on the part of other citizens was suspended; and whenever a captain or commissary had to be appointed he was unopposed. but when a war came to be undertaken, as to the issue of which no misgivings were felt, and which promised both honour and preferment, so numerous were the competitors for command, that three commissaries having to be chosen to conduct the siege of pisa, antonio was left out; and though it cannot with certainty be shown that any harm resulted to our republic from his not having been sent on this enterprise, we may reasonably conjecture that such was indeed the case. for as the people of pisa were then without means either for subsistence or defence, it may be believed that had antonio been there he would have reduced them to such extremities as would have forced them to surrender at discretion to the florentines. but pisa being besieged by captains who knew neither how to blockade nor how to storm it, held out so long, that the florentines, who should have reduced it by force, were obliged to buy its submission. neglect like this might well move antonio to resentment; and he must needs have been both very patient and very forgiving if he felt no desire to revenge himself when he could, by the ruin of the city or by injuries to individual citizens. but a republic should beware not to rouse such feelings, as i shall show in the following chapter. chapter xvii.--_that we are not to offend a man, and then send him to fill an important office or command._ a republic should think twice before appointing to an important command a citizen who has sustained notable wrong at the hands of his fellow-citizens. claudius nero, quitting the army with which he was opposing hannibal, went with a part of his forces into the march of ancona, designing to join the other consul there, and after joining him to attack hasdrubal before he came up with his brother. now claudius had previously commanded against hasdrubal in spain, and after driving him with his army into such a position that it seemed he must either fight at a disadvantage or perish by famine, had been outwitted by his adversary, who, while diverting his attention with proposals of terms, contrived to slip through his hands and rob him of the opportunity for effecting his destruction. this becoming known in rome brought claudius into so much discredit both with the senate and people, that to his great mortification and displeasure, he was slightingly spoken of by the whole city. but being afterwards made consul and sent to oppose hannibal, he took the course mentioned above, which was in itself so hazardous that all rome was filled with doubt and anxiety until tidings came of hasdrubal's defeat. when subsequently asked why he had played so dangerous a game, wherein without urgent necessity he had staked the very existence of rome, claudius answered, he had done so because he knew that were he to succeed he would recover whatever credit he had lost in spain; while if he failed, and his attempt had an untoward issue, he would be revenged on that city and on those citizens who had so ungratefully and indiscreetly wronged him. but if resentment for an offence like this so deeply moved a roman citizen at a time when rome was still uncorrupted, we should consider how it may act on the citizen of a state not constituted as rome then was. and because there is no certain remedy we can apply to such disorders when they arise in republics, it follows that it is impossible to establish a republic which shall endure always; since in a thousand unforeseen ways ruin may overtake it. chapter xviii.--_that it is the highest quality of a captain to be able to forestall the designs of his adversary._ it was a saying of epaminondas the theban that nothing was so useful and necessary for a commander as to be able to see through the intentions and designs of his adversary. and because it is hard to come at this knowledge directly, the more credit is due to him who reaches it by conjecture. yet sometimes it is easier to fathom an enemy's designs than to construe his actions; and not so much those actions which are done at a distance from us, as those done in our presence and under our very eyes. for instance, it has often happened that when a battle has lasted till nightfall, the winner has believed himself the loser, and the loser has believed himself the winner and that this mistake has led him who made it to follow a course hurtful to himself. it was from a mistake of this sort, that brutus and cassius lost the battle of philippi. for though brutus was victorious with his wing of the army cassius, whose wing was beaten, believed the entire army to be defeated, and under this belief gave way to despair and slew himself. so too, in our own days, in the battle fought by francis, king of france, with the swiss at santa cecilia in lombardy, when night fell, those of the swiss who remained unbroken, not knowing that the rest had been routed and slain, thought they had the victory; and so believing would not retreat, but, remaining on the field, renewed the combat the following morning to their great disadvantage. nor were they the only sufferers from their mistake, since the armies of the pope and of spain were also misled by it, and well-nigh brought to destruction. for on the false report of a victory they crossed the po, and had they only advanced a little further must have been made prisoners by the victorious french. an instance is recorded of a like mistake having been made in the camps both of the romans and of the equians. for the consul sempronius being in command against the equians, and giving the enemy battle, the engagement lasted with varying success till nightfall, when as both armies had suffered what was almost a defeat, neither returned to their camp, but each drew off to the neighboring hills where they thought they would be safer. the romans separated into two divisions, one of which with the consul, the other with the centurion tempanius by whose valour the army had that day been saved from utter rout. at daybreak the consul, without waiting for further tidings of the enemy, made straight for rome; and the equians, in like manner, withdrew to their own country. for as each supposed the other to be victorious, neither thought much of leaving their camp to be plundered by the enemy. it so chanced, however, that tempanius, who was himself retreating with the second division of the roman army, fell in with certain wounded equians, from whom he learned that their commanders had fled, abandoning their camp; on hearing which, he at once returned to the roman camp and secured it, and then, after sacking the camp of the equians, went back victorious to rome. his success, as we see, turned entirely on his being the first to be informed of the enemy's condition. and here we are to note that it may often happen that both the one and the other of two opposed armies shall fall into the same disorder, and be reduced to the same straits; in which case, that which soonest detects the other's distress is sure to come off best. i shall give an instance of this which occurred recently in our own country. in the year , when the florentines had a great army in the territory of pisa and had closely invested the town, the venetians, who had undertaken its protection, seeing no other way to save it, resolved to make a diversion in its favour by attacking the territories of the florentines in another quarter. wherefore, having assembled a strong force, they entered tuscany by the val di lamona, and seizing on the village of marradi, besieged the stronghold of castiglione which stands on the height above it. getting word of this, the florentines sought to relieve marradi, without weakening the army which lay round pisa. they accordingly raised a new levy of foot-soldiers, and equipped a fresh squadron of horse, which they despatched to marradi under the joint command of jacopo iv. d'appiano, lord of piombino, and count rinuccio of marciano. these troops taking up their position on the hill above marradi, the venetians withdrew from the investment of castiglione and lodged themselves in the village. but when the two armies had confronted one another for several days, both began to suffer sorely from want of victuals and other necessaries, and neither of them daring to attack the other, or knowing to what extremities the other was reduced, both simultaneously resolved to strike their camps the following morning, and to retreat, the venetians towards berzighella and faenza, the florentines towards casaglia and the mugello. but at daybreak, when both armies had begun to remove their baggage, it so happened that an old woman, whose years and poverty permitted her to pass unnoticed, leaving the village of marradi, came to the florentine camp, where were certain of her kinsfolk whom she desired to visit. learning from her that the venetians were in retreat, the florentine commanders took courage, and changing their plan, went in pursuit of the enemy as though they had dislodged them, sending word to florence that they had repulsed the venetians and gained a victory. but in truth this victory was wholly due to their having notice of the enemy's movements before the latter had notice of theirs. for had that notice been given to the venetians first, it would have wrought against us the same results as it actually wrought for us. chapter xix.--_whether indulgence or severity be more necessary for controlling a multitude._ the roman republic was distracted by the feuds of the nobles and commons. nevertheless, on war breaking out, quintius and appius claudius were sent forth in command of roman armies. from his harshness and severity to his soldiers, appius was so ill obeyed by them, that after sustaining what almost amounted to a defeat, he had to resign his command. quintius, on the contrary, by kindly and humane treatment, kept his men obedient and returned victorious to rome. from this it might seem that to govern a large body of men, it is better to be humane than haughty, and kindly rather than severe. and yet cornelius tacitus, with whom many other authors are agreed, pronounces a contrary opinion where he says, "_in governing a multitude it avails more to punish than to be compliant._"[ ] if it be asked how these opposite views can be reconciled, i answer that you exercise authority either over men used to regard you as their equal, or over men who have always been subject to you. when those over whom you exercise authority are your equals, you cannot trust wholly to punishment or to that severity of which tacitus speaks. and since in rome itself the commons had equal weight with the nobles, none appointed their captain for a time only, could control them by using harshness and severity. accordingly we find that those roman captains who gained the love of their soldiers and were considerate of them, often achieved greater results than those who made themselves feared by them in an unusual degree, unless, like manlius torquatus, these last were endowed with consummate valour. but he who has to govern subjects such as those of whom tacitus speaks, to prevent their growing insolent and trampling upon him by reason of his too great easiness, must resort to punishment rather than to compliance. still, to escape hatred, punishment should be moderate in degree, for to make himself hated is never for the interest of any prince. and to escape hatred, a prince has chiefly to guard against tampering with the property of any of his subjects; for where nothing is to be gained by it, no prince will desire to shed blood, unless, as seldom happens, constrained to do so by necessity. but where advantage is to be gained thereby, blood will always flow, and neither the desire to shed it, nor causes for shedding it will ever be wanting, as i have fully shown when discussing this subject in another treatise. quintius therefore was more deserving of praise than appius. nevertheless the opinion of tacitus, duly restricted and not understood as applying to a case like that of appius, merits approval. but since i have spoken of punishment and indulgence, it seems not out of place to show how a single act of humanity availed more than arms with the citizens of falerii. [footnote : "in multitudine regenda plus poena quam obsequium valet." but compare annals, iii. , "obsequium inde in principem et æmulandi amoi validioi quam poena ex legibus et metus."] chapter xx.--_how one humane act availed more with the men of falerii, than all the might of the roman arms._ when the besieging army of the romans lay round falerii, the master of a school wherein the best-born youths of the city were taught, thinking to curry favour with camillus and the romans, came forth from the town with these boys, on pretence of giving them exercise, and bringing them into the camp where camillus was, presented them to him, saying, "_to ransom these that city would yield itself into your hands._" camillus, however, not only rejected this offer, but causing the schoolmaster to be stripped and his hands tied behind him, gave each of the boys a scourge, and bade them lead the fellow back to the town scourging him as they went. when the citizens of falerii heard of this, so much were they pleased with the humanity and integrity of camillus, that they resolved to surrender their town to him without further defence. this authentic instance may lead us to believe that a humane and kindly action may sometimes touch men's minds more nearly than a harsh and cruel one; and that those cities and provinces into which the instruments and engines of war, with every other violence to which men resort, have failed to force a way, may be thrown open to a single act of tenderness, mercy, chastity, or generosity. whereof history supplies us with many examples besides the one which i have just now noticed. for we find that when the arms of rome were powerless to drive pyrrhus out of italy, he was moved to depart by the generosity of fabritius in disclosing to him the proposal which his slave had made the romans to poison him. again, we read how scipio gained less reputation in spain by the capture of new carthage, than by his virtue in restoring a young and beautiful wife unviolated to her husband; the fame of which action won him the love of the whole province. we see, too, how much this generous temper is esteemed by a people in its great men; and how much it is praised by historians and by those who write the lives of princes, as well as by those who lay down rules of human conduct. among whom xenophon has taken great pains to show what honours, and victories, and how fair a fame accrued to cyrus from his being kindly and gracious, without taint of pride, or cruelty, or luxury, or any other of those vices which cast a stain upon men's lives. and yet when we note that hannibal, by methods wholly opposite to these, achieved splendid victories and a great renown, i think i am bound to say something in my next chapter as to how this happened. chapter xxi.--_how it happened that hannibal pursuing a course contrary to that taken by scipio, wrought the same results in italy which the other achieved in spain._ some, i suspect, may marvel to find a captain, taking a contrary course, nevertheless arrive at the same ends as those who have pursued the methods above spoken of; since it must seem as though success did not depend on the causes i have named; nay, that if glory and fame are to be won in other ways, these causes neither add to our strength nor advance our fortunes. wherefore, to make my meaning plain, and not to part company with the men of whom i have been speaking, i say, that as, on the one hand, we see scipio enter spain, and by his humane and generous conduct at once secure the good-will of the province, and the admiration and reverence of its inhabitants, so on the other hand, we see hannibal enter italy, and by methods wholly opposite, to wit, by violence and rapine, by cruelty and treachery of every kind, effect in that country the very same results. for all the states of italy revolted in his favour, and all the italian nations ranged themselves on his side. when we seek to know why this was, several reasons present themselves, the first being that men so passionately love change, that, commonly speaking, those who are well off are as eager for it as those who are badly off: for as already has been said with truth, men are pampered by prosperity, soured by adversity. this love of change, therefore, makes them open the door to any one who puts himself at the head of new movements in their country, and if he be a foreigner they adopt his cause, if a fellow-countryman they gather round him and become his partisans and supporters; so that whatever methods he may there use, he will succeed in making great progress. moreover, men being moved by two chief passions, love and fear, he who makes himself feared commands with no less authority than he who makes himself loved; nay, as a rule, is followed and obeyed more implicitly than the other. it matters little, however, which of these two ways a captain chooses to follow, provided he be of transcendent valour, and has thereby won for himself a great name for when, like hannibal or scipio, a man is very valiant, this quality will cloak any error he may commit in seeking either to be too much loved or too much feared. yet from each of these two tendencies, grave mischiefs, and such as lead to the ruin of a prince, may arise. for he who would be greatly loved, if he swerve ever so little from the right road, becomes contemptible; while he who would be greatly feared, if he go a jot too far, incurs hatred. and since it is impossible, our nature not allowing it, to adhere to the exact mean, it is essential that any excess should be balanced by an exceeding valour, as it was in hannibal and scipio. and yet we find that even they, while they were exalted by the methods they followed, were also injured by them. how they were exalted has been shown. the injury which scipio suffered was, that in spain his soldiers, in concert with certain of his allies, rose against him, for no other reason than that they stood in no fear of him. for men are so restless, that if ever so small a door be opened to their ambition, they forthwith forget all the love they have borne their prince in return for his graciousness and goodness, as did these soldiers and allies of scipio; when, to correct the mischief, he was forced to use something of a cruelty foreign to his nature. as to hannibal, we cannot point to any particular instance wherein his cruelty or want of faith are seen to have been directly hurtful to him; but we may well believe that naples and other towns which remained loyal to the roman people, did so by reason of the dread which his character inspired. this, however, is abundantly clear, that his inhumanity made him more detested by the romans than any other enemy they ever had; so that while to pyrrhus, in italy with his army, they gave up the traitor who offered to poison him, hannibal, even when disarmed and a fugitive, they never forgave, until they had compassed his death. to hannibal, therefore, from his being accounted impious, perfidious, and cruel, these disadvantages resulted; but, on the other hand, there accrued to him one great gain, noticed with admiration by all historians, namely, that in his army, although made up of men of every race and country, no dissensions ever broke out among the soldiers themselves, nor any mutiny against their leader. this we can only ascribe to the awe which his character inspired, which together with the great name his valour had won for him, had the effect of keeping his soldiers quiet and united. i repeat, therefore, that it is of little moment which method a captain may follow if he be endowed with such valour as will bear him out in the course which he adopts. for, as i have said, there are disadvantages incident to both methods unless corrected by extraordinary valour. and now, since i have spoken of scipio and hannibal, the former of whom by praiseworthy, the latter by odious qualities, effected the same results, i must not, i think, omit to notice the characters of two roman citizens, who by different, yet both by honourable methods, obtained a like glory. chapter xxii.--_that the severity of manlius torquatus and the gentleness of valerius corvinus won for both the same glory._ there lived in rome, at the same time, two excellent captains, manlius torquatus and valerius corvinus, equal in their triumphs and in their renown, and in the valour which in obtaining these they had displayed against the enemy; but who in the conduct of their armies and treatment of their soldiers, followed very different methods. for manlius, in his command, resorted to every kind of severity, never sparing his men fatigue, nor remitting punishment; while valerius, on the contrary, treated them with all kindness and consideration, and was easy and familiar in his intercourse with them. so that while the one, to secure the obedience of his soldiers, put his own son to death, the other never dealt harshly with any man. yet, for all this diversity in their modes of acting, each had the same success against the enemy, and each obtained the same advantages both for the republic and for himself. for no soldier of theirs ever flinched in battle, or rose in mutiny against them, or in any particular opposed their will; though the commands of manlius were of such severity that any order of excessive rigour came to be spoken of as a _manlian order_. here, then, we have to consider first of all why manlius was obliged to use such severity; next, why valerius could behave so humanely; thirdly, how it was that these opposite methods had the same results; and lastly, which of the two methods it is better and more useful for us to follow. now, if we well examine the character of manlius from the moment when titus livius first begins to make mention of him, we shall find him to have been endowed with a rare vigour both of mind and body, dutiful in his behaviour to his father and to his country, and most reverent to his superiors. all which we see in his slaying the gaul, in his defence of his father against the tribune, and in the words in which, before going forth to fight the gaul, he addressed the consul, when he said, "_although assured of victory, never will i without thy bidding engage an enemy._" but when such a man as this attains to command, he looks to find all others like himself; his dauntless spirit prompts him to engage in daring enterprises, and to insist on their being carried out. and this is certain, that where things hard to execute are ordered to be done, the order must be enforced with sternness, since, otherwise, it will be disobeyed. and here be it noted that if you would be obeyed you must know how to command, and that they alone have this knowledge who have measured their power to enforce, with the willingness of others to yield obedience; and who issue their orders when they find these conditions combining, but, otherwise, abstain. wherefore, a wise man was wont to say that to hold a republic by force, there must be a proportion between him who uses the force and him against whom it is used; and that while this proportion obtains the force will operate; but that when he who suffers is stronger than he who uses the force, we may expect to see it brought to an end at any moment. but returning to the matter in hand, i say that to command things hard of execution, requires hardness in him who gives the command, and that a man of this temper and who issues such commands, cannot look to enforce them by gentleness. he who is not of such a temper must be careful not to impose tasks of extraordinary difficulty, but may use his natural gentleness in imposing such as are ordinary. for common punishments are not imputed to the prince, but to the laws and ordinances which he has to administer. we must believe, therefore, that manlius was constrained to act with severity by the unusual character of the commands which his natural disposition prompted him to issue. such commands are useful in a republic, as restoring its ordinances to their original efficacy and excellence. and were a republic, as i have before observed, fortunate enough to come frequently under the influence of men who, by their example, reinforce its laws, and not only retard its progress towards corruption, but bring it back to its first perfection, it might endure for ever. manlius, therefore, was of those who by the severity of their commands maintained the military discipline of rome; urged thereto, in the first place, by his natural temper, and next by the desire that whatever he was minded to command should be done. valerius, on the other hand, could afford to act humanely, because for him it was enough if all were done which in a roman army it was customary to do. and, since the customs of that army were good customs, they sufficed to gain him honour, while at the same time their maintenance cost him no effort, nor threw on him the burthen of punishing transgressors; as well because there were none who trangressed, as because had there been any, they would, as i have said, have imputed their punishment to the ordinary rules of discipline, and not to the severity of their commander. in this way valerius had room to exercise that humane disposition which enabled him at once to gain influence over his soldiers and to content them. hence it was that both these captains obtaining the same obedience, could, while following different methods, arrive at the same ends. those, however, who seek to imitate them may chance to fall into the errors of which i have already spoken, in connection with hannibal and scipio, as breeding contempt or hatred, and which are only to be corrected by the presence of extraordinary valour, and not otherwise. it rests now to determine which of these two methods is the more to be commended. this, i take it, is matter of dispute, since both methods have their advocates. those writers, however, who have laid down rules for the conduct of princes, describe a character approaching more nearly to that of valerius than to that of manlius; and xenophon, whom i have already cited, while giving many instances of the humanity of cyrus, conforms closely to what livius tells us of valerius. for valerius being made consul against the samnites, on the eve of battle spoke to his men with the same kindliness with which he always treated them; and livius, after telling us what he said, remarks of him: "_never was there a leader more familiar with his men; cheerfully sharing with the meanest among them every hardship and fatigue. even in the military games, wherein those of the same rank were wont to make trial of their strength or swiftness, he would good-naturedly take a part, nor disdain any adversary who offered; meeting victory or defeat with an unruffled temper and an unchanged countenance. when called on to act, his bounty and generosity never fell short. when he had to speak, he was as mindful of the feelings of others as of his own dignity. and, what more than anything else secures the popular favour, he maintained when exercising his magistracies the same bearing he had worn in seeking them._" of manlius also, titus livius speaks in like honourable terms, pointing out that his severity in putting his son to death brought the roman army to that pitch of discipline which enabled it to prevail against the latins, nay, he goes so far in his praises that after describing the whole order of the battle, comparing the strength of both armies, and showing all the dangers the romans ran, and the difficulties they had to surmount, he winds up by saying, that it was the valour of manlius which alone gained for them this great victory, and that whichever side had manlius for its leader must have won the day. so that weighing all that the historians tell us of these two captains, it might be difficult to decide between them. nevertheless, not to leave the question entirely open, i say, that for a citizen living under a republic, i think the conduct of manlius more deserving of praise and less dangerous in its consequences. for methods like his tend only to the public good and in no way subserve private ends. he who shows himself harsh and stern at all times and to all men alike, and is seen to care only for the common welfare, will never gain himself partisans, since this is not the way to win personal friends, to whom, as i said before, the name of partisans is given. for a republic, therefore, no line of conduct could be more useful or more to be desired than this, because in following it the public interest is not neglected, and no room is given to suspect personal ambition. but the contrary holds as to the methods followed by valerius. for though the public service they render be the same, misgivings must needs arise that the personal good-will which, in the course of a prolonged command, a captain obtains from his soldiers, may lead to consequences fatal to the public liberty. and if this was not found to happen in the case of valerius, it was because the minds of the roman people were not yet corrupted, and because they had never remained for a long time and continuously under his command. had we, however, like xenophon, to consider what is most for the interest of a prince, we should have to give up manlius and hold by valerius; for, undoubtedly, a prince should strive to gain the love of his soldiers and subjects, as well as their obedience. the latter he can secure by discipline and by his reputation for valour. but for the former he will be indebted to his affability, kindliness, gentleness, and all those other like qualities which were possessed by valerius, and which are described by xenophon as existing in cyrus. that a prince should be personally loved and have his army wholly devoted to him is consistent with the character of his government; but that this should happen to a person of private station does not consist with his position as a citizen who has to live in conformity with the laws and in subordination to the magistrates. we read in the early annals of the venetian republic, that once, on the return of the fleet, a dispute broke out between the sailors and the people, resulting in tumults and armed violence which neither the efforts of the public officers, the respect felt for particular citizens, nor the authority of the magistrates could quell. but on a certain gentleman, who the year before had been in command of these sailors, showing himself among them, straightway, from the love they bore him, they submitted to his authority and withdrew from the fray. which deference on their part aroused such jealousy and suspicion in the minds of the venetian senators that very soon after they got rid of this gentleman, either by death or exile. the sum of the matter, therefore, is, that the methods followed by valerius are useful in a prince, but pernicious in a private citizen, both for his country and for himself, for his country, because such methods pave the way to a tyranny; for himself, because his fellow-citizens, growing suspicious of his conduct, are constrained to protect themselves to his hurt. and conversely, i maintain, that the methods of manlius, while hurtful in a prince are useful in a citizen, and in the highest degree for his country; and, moreover, seldom give offence, unless the hatred caused by his severity be augmented by the jealousy which the fame of his other virtues inspires: a matter now to be considered in connection with the banishment of camillas. chapter xxiii.--_why camillus was banished from rome._ it has been shown above how methods like those of valerius are hurtful to the citizen who employs them and to his country, while methods like those of manlius are advantageous for a man's country, though sometimes they be hurtful to the man himself. this is well seen in the example of camillus, whose bearing more nearly resembled that of manlius than that of valerius, so that titus livius, in speaking of him, says, "_his virtues were at once hated and admired by his soldiers._" what gained him their admiration was his care for their safety, his prudence, his magnanimity, and the good order he maintained in conducting and commanding them. what made him hated was his being more stern to punish than bountiful to reward; and livius instances the following circumstances as giving rise to this hatred. first, his having applied the money got by the sale of the goods of the veientines to public purposes, and not divided it along with the rest of the spoils. second, his having, on the occasion of his triumph, caused his chariot to be drawn by four white horses, seeking in his pride, men said, to make himself the equal of the sun god. and, third, his having vowed to apollo a tenth of the veientine plunder, which, if he was to fulfil his vow, he had to recover from his soldiers, into whose hands it had already come. herein we may well and readily discern what causes tend to make a prince hateful to his people; the chief whereof is the depriving them of some advantage. and this is a matter of much importance. for when a man is deprived of what is in itself useful, he never forgets it, and every trifling occasion recalls it to his mind; and because such occasions recur daily, he is every day reminded of his loss. another error which we are here taught to guard against, is the appearing haughty and proud, than which nothing is more distasteful to a people, and most of all to a free people; for although such pride and haughtiness do them no hurt, they nevertheless hold in detestation any who display these qualities. every show of pride, therefore, a prince should shun as he would a rock, since to invite hatred without resulting advantage were utterly rash and futile. chapter xxiv.--_that prolonged commands brought rome to servitude_. if we well examine the course of roman history, we shall find two causes leading to the break-up of that republic: one, the dissensions which arose in connection with the agrarian laws; the other, the prolongation of commands. for had these matters been rightly understood from the first, and due remedies applied, the freedom of rome had been far more lasting, and, possibly, less disturbed. and although, as touching the prolongation of commands, we never find any tumult breaking out in rome on that account, we do in fact discern how much harm was done to the city by the ascendency which certain of its citizens thereby gained. this mischief indeed would not have arisen, if other citizens whose period of office was extended had been as good and wise as lucius quintius, whose virtue affords a notable example. for terms of accord having been settled between the senate and commons of rome, the latter, thinking their tribunes well able to withstand the ambition of the nobles, prolonged their authority for a year. whereupon, the senate, not to be outdone by the commons, proposed, out of rivalry, to extend the consulship of quintius. he, however, refused absolutely to lend himself to their designs, and insisted on their appointing new consuls, telling them that they should seek to discredit evil examples, not add to them by setting worse. had this prudence and virtue of his been shared by all the citizens of rome, the practice of prolonging the terms of civil offices would not have been suffered to establish itself, nor have led to the kindred practice of extending the term of military commands, which in progress of time effected the ruin of their republic. the first military commander whose term was extended, was publius philo; for when his consulship was about to expire, he being then engaged in the siege of palæopolis, the senate, seeing he had the victory in his hands, would not displace him by a successor, but appointed him _proconsul_, which office he was the first to hold. now, although in thus acting the senate did what they thought best for the public good, nevertheless it was this act of theirs that in time brought rome to slavery. for the further the romans carried their arms, the more necessary it seemed to them to grant similar extensions of command, and the oftener they, in fact, did so. this gave rise to two disadvantages: first that a smaller number of men were trained to command; second, that by the long continuance of his command a captain gained so much influence and ascendency over his soldiers that in time they came to hold the senate of no account, and looked only to him. this it was, that enabled sylla and marius to find adherents ready to follow them even to the public detriment, and enabled cæsar to overthrow the liberties of his country; whereas, had the romans never prolonged the period of authority, whether civil or military, though they might have taken longer to build up their empire, they certainly had been later in incurring servitude. chapter xxv.--_of the poverty of cincinnatus and of many other roman citizens. elsewhere i have shown that no ordinance is of such advantage to a commonwealth, as one which enforces poverty on its citizens. and although it does not appear what particular law it was that had this operation in rome (especially since we know the agrarian law to have been stubbornly resisted), we find, as a fact, that four hundred years after the city was founded, great poverty still prevailed there; and may assume that nothing helped so much to produce this result as the knowledge that the path to honours and preferment was closed to none, and that merit was sought after wheresoever it was to be found; for this manner of conferring honours made riches the less courted. in proof whereof i shall cite one instance only. when the consul minutius was beset in his camp by the equians, the roman people were filled with such alarm lest their army should be destroyed, that they appointed a dictator, always their last stay in seasons of peril. their choice fell on lucius quintius cincinnatus, who at the time was living on his small farm of little more than four acres, which he tilled with his own hand. the story is nobly told by titus livius where he says: "_this is worth listening to by those who contemn all things human as compared with riches, and think that glory and excellence can have no place unless accompanied by lavish wealth._" cincinnatus, then, was ploughing in his little field, when there arrived from rome the messengers sent by the senate to tell him he had been made dictator, and inform him of the dangers which threatened the republic. putting on his gown, he hastened to rome, and getting together an army, marched to deliver minutius. but when he had defeated and spoiled the enemy, and released minutius, he would not suffer the army he had rescued to participate in the spoils, saying, "_i will not have you share in the plunder of those to whom you had so nearly fallen a prey._" minutius he deprived of his consulship, and reduced to be a subaltern, in which rank he bade him remain till he had learned how to command. and before this he had made lucius tarquininus, although forced by his poverty to serve on foot, his master of the knights. here, then, we see what honour was paid in rome to poverty, and how four acres of land sufficed to support so good and great a man as cincinnatus. we find the same poverty still prevailing in the time of marcus regulus, who when serving with the army in africa sought leave of senate to return home that he might look after his farm which his labourers had suffered to run to waste. here again we learn two things worthy our attention: first, the poverty of these men and their contentment under it, and how their sole study was to gain renown from war, leaving all its advantages to the state. for had they thought of enriching themselves by war, it had given them little concern that their fields were running to waste further, we have to remark the magnanimity of these citizens, who when placed at the head of armies surpassed all princes in the loftiness of their spirit, who cared neither for king nor for commonwealth, and whom nothing could daunt or dismay; but who, on returning to private life, became once more so humble, so frugal, so careful of their slender means, and so submissive to the magistrates and reverential to their superiors, that it might seem impossible for the human mind to undergo so violent a change. this poverty prevailed down to the days of paulus emilius, almost the last happy days for this republic wherein a citizen, while enriching rome by his triumphs, himself remained poor. and yet so greatly was poverty still esteemed at this time, that when paulus, in conferring rewards on those who had behaved well in the war, presented his own son-in-law with a silver cup, it was the first vessel of silver ever seen in his house. i might run on to a great length pointing out how much better are the fruits of poverty than those of riches, and how poverty has brought cities, provinces, and nations to honour, while riches have wrought their ruin, had not this subject been often treated by others. chapter xxvi.--_how women are a cause of the ruin of states._ a feud broke out in ardea touching the marriage of an heiress, whose hand was sought at the same time by two suitors, the one of plebeian, the other of noble birth. for her father being dead, her guardian wished her to wed the plebeian, her mother the noble. and so hot grew the dispute that resort was had to arms, the whole nobility siding with their fellow-noble, and all the plebeians with the plebeian. the latter faction being worsted, left the town, and sent to the volscians for help; whereupon, the nobles sought help from rome. the volscians were first in the field, and on their arrival encamped round ardea. the romans, coming up later, shut in the volscians between themselves and the town, and, reducing them by famine, forced them to surrender at discretion. they then entered ardea, and putting all the ringleaders in this dispute to the sword, composed the disorders of the city. in connection with this affair there are several points to be noted. and in the first place we see how women have been the occasion of many divisions and calamities in states, and have wrought great harm to rulers; as when, according to our historian, the violence done to lucretia drove the tarquins from their kingdom, and that done to virginia broke the power of the decemvirs. and among the chief causes which aristotle assigns for the downfall of tyrants are the wrongs done by them to their subjects in respect of their women, whether by adultery, rape, or other like injury to their honour, as has been sufficiently noticed in the chapter wherein we treated "_of conspiracies_" i say, then, that neither absolute princes nor the rulers of free states should underrate the importance of matter, but take heed to the disorders which it may breed and provide against them while remedies can still be used without discredit to themselves or to their governments and this should have been done by the rulers of ardea who by suffering the rivalry between their citizens to come to a head, promoted their divisions, and when they sought to reunite them had to summon foreign help, than which nothing sooner leads to servitude. but now let us turn to another subject which merits attention, namely, the means whereby divided cities may be reunited; and of this i propose to speak in the following chapter. chapter xxvii. _how a divided city may be reunited, and how it is a false opinion that to hold cities in subjection they must be kept divided._ from the example of the roman consuls who reconciled the citizens of ardea, we are taught the method whereby the feuds of a divided city may be composed, namely, by putting the ringleaders of the disturbances to death; and that no other remedy should be used. three courses, indeed, are open to you, since you may either put to death, as these consuls did, or banish, or bind the citizens to live at peace with one another, taking security for their good behaviour. of which three ways the last is the most hurtful, the most uncertain, and the least effectual; because when much blood has been shed, or other like outrage done, it cannot be that a peace imposed on compulsion should endure between men who are every day brought face to face with one another; for since fresh cause of contention may at any moment result from their meeting, it will be impossible for them to refrain from mutual injury. of this we could have no better instance than in the city of pistoja. fifteen years ago this city was divided between the panciatichi and cancellieri, as indeed it still continues, the only difference being that then they were in arms, whereas, now, they have laid them aside. after much controversy and wrangling, these factions would presently proceed to bloodshed, to pulling down houses, plundering property, and all the other violent courses usual in divided cities. the florentines, with whom it lay to compose these feuds, strove for a long time to do so by using the third of the methods mentioned; but when this only led to increased tumult and disorder, losing patience, they decided to try the second method and get rid of the ringleaders of both factions by imprisoning some and banishing others. in this way a sort of settlement was arrived at, which continues in operation up to the present hour. there can be no question, however, that the first of the methods named would have been the surest. but because extreme measures have in them an element of greatness and nobility, a weak republic, so far from knowing how to use this first method, can with difficulty be brought to employ even the second. this, as i said at the beginning, is the kind of blunder made by the princes of our times when they have to decide on matters of moment, from their not considering how those men acted who in ancient days had to determine under like conditions. for the weakness of the present race of men (the result of their enfeebling education and their ignorance of affairs), makes them regard the methods followed by the ancients as partly inhuman and partly impracticable. accordingly, they have their own newfangled ways of looking at things, wholly at variance with the true, as when the sages of our city, some time since, pronounced that _pistoja was to be held by feuds and pisa by fortresses_, not perceiving how useless each of these methods is in itself. having spoken of fortresses already at some length, i shall not further refer to them here, but shall consider the futility of trying to hold subject cities by keeping them divided. in the first place, it is impossible for the ruling power, whether prince or republic, to be friends with both factions. for wherever there is division, it is human nature to take a side, and to favour one party more than another. but if one party in a subject city be unfriendly to you, the consequence will be that you will lose that city so soon as you are involved in war, since it is impossible for you to hold a city where you have enemies both within and without. should the ruling power be a republic, there is nothing so likely to corrupt its citizens and sow dissension among them, as having to control a divided city. for as each faction in that city will seek support and endeavour to make friends in a variety of corrupt ways, two very serious evils will result: first, that the governed city will never be contented with its governors, since there can be no good government where you often change its form, adapting yourself to the humours now of one party and now of another; and next, that the factious spirit of the subject city is certain to infect your own republic. to which biondo testifies, when, in speaking of the citizens of florence and pistoja, he says, "_in seeking to unite pistoja the florentines themselves fell out_."[ ] it is easy, therefore, to understand how much mischief attends on such divisions. in the year , when we lost arezzo, and when all the val di tevere and val di chiana were occupied by the vitelli and by duke valentino, a certain m. de lant was sent by the king of france to cause the whole of the lost towns to be restored to the florentines; who finding in all these towns men who came to him claiming to be of the party of the _marnocco_[ ], greatly blamed this distinction, observing, that if in france any of the king's subjects were to say that he was of the king's party, he would be punished; since the expression would imply that there was a party hostile to the king, whereas it was his majesty's desire that all his subjects should be his friends and live united without any distinction of party. but all these mistaken methods and opinions originate in the weakness of rulers, who, seeing that they cannot hold their states by their own strength and valour, have recourse to like devices; which, if now and then in tranquil times they prove of some slight assistance to them, in times of danger are shown to be worthless. [footnote : _flav. blondri hist._, dec. ii. lib. . basle ed. , p. ] [footnote : the heraldic lion of florence.] chapter xxviii. _that a republic must keep an eye on what its citizens are about; since often the seeds of a tyranny lie hidden under a semblance of generous deeds._ the granaries of rome not sufficing to meet a famine with which the city was visited, a certain spurius melius, a very wealthy citizen for these days, privately laid in a supply of corn wherewith to feed the people at his own expense; gaining thereby such general favour with the commons, that the senate, apprehending that his bounty might have dangerous consequences, in order to crush him before he grew too powerful, appointed a dictator to deal with him and caused him to be put to death. here we have to note that actions which seem good in themselves and unlikely to occasion harm to any one, very often become hurtful, nay, unless corrected in time, most dangerous for a republic. and to treat the matter with greater fulness, i say, that while a republic can never maintain itself long, or manage its affairs to advantage, without citizens of good reputation, on the other hand the credit enjoyed by particular citizens often leads to the establishment of a tyranny. for which reasons, and that things may take a safe course, it should be so arranged that a citizen shall have credit only for such behaviour as benefits, and not for such as injures the state and its liberties. we must therefore examine by what ways credit is acquired. these, briefly, are two, public or secret. public, when a citizen gains a great name by advising well or by acting still better for the common advantage. to credit of this sort we should open a wide door, holding out rewards both for good counsels and for good actions, so that he who renders such services may be at once honoured and satisfied. reputation acquired honestly and openly by such means as these can never be dangerous. but credit acquired by secret practices, which is the other method spoken of, is most perilous and prejudicial. of such secret practices may be instanced, acts of kindness done to this or the other citizen in lending him money, in assisting him to marry his daughters, in defending him against the magistrates, and in conferring such other private favours as gain men devoted adherents, and encourage them after they have obtained such support, to corrupt the institutions of the state and to violate its laws. a well-governed republic, therefore, ought, as i have said, to throw wide the door to all who seek public favour by open courses, and to close it against any who would ingratiate themselves by underhand means. and this we find was done in rome. for the roman republic, as a reward to any citizen who served it well, ordained triumphs and all the other honours which it had to bestow; while against those who sought to aggrandize themselves by secret intrigues, it ordained accusations and impeachment; and when, from the people being blinded by a false show of benevolence, these proved insufficient, it provided for a dictator, who with regal authority might bring to bounds any who had strayed beyond them, as instanced in the case of spurius melius. and if conduct like his be ever suffered to pass unchastised, it may well be the ruin of a republic, for men when they have such examples set them are not easily led back into the right path. chapter xxix.--_that the faults of a people are due to its prince._ let no prince complain of the faults committed by a people under his control; since these must be ascribed either to his negligence, or to his being himself blemished by similar defects. and were any one to consider what peoples in our own times have been most given to robbery and other like offences, he would find that they have only copied their rulers, who have themselves been of a like nature. romagna, before those lords who ruled it were driven out by pope alexander vi., was a nursery of all the worst crimes, the slightest occasion giving rise to wholesale rapine and murder. this resulted from the wickedness of these lords, and not, as they asserted, from the evil disposition of their subjects. for these princes being poor, yet choosing to live as though they were rich, were forced to resort to cruelties innumerable and practised in divers ways; and among other shameful devices contrived by them to extort money, they would pass laws prohibiting certain acts, and then be the first to give occasion for breaking them; nor would they chastise offenders until they saw many involved in the same offence; when they fell to punishing, not from any zeal for the laws which they had made, but out of greed to realize the penalty. whence flowed many mischiefs, and more particularly this, that the people being impoverished, but not corrected, sought to make good their injuries at the expense of others weaker than themselves. and thus there sprang up all those evils spoken of above, whereof the prince is the true cause. the truth of what i say is confirmed by titus livius where he relates how the roman envoys, who were conveying the spoils of the veientines as an offering to apollo, were seized and brought on shore by the corsairs of the lipari islands in sicily; when timasitheus, the prince of these islands, on learning the nature of the offering, its destination, and by whom sent, though himself of lipari, behaved as a roman might, showing his people what sacrilege it would be to intercept such a gift, and speaking to such purpose that by general consent the envoys were suffered to proceed upon their voyage, taking all their possessions with them. with reference to which incident the historian observes: "_the multitude, who always take their colour from their ruler, were filled by timasitheus with a religious awe._" and to like purport we find it said by lorenzo de' medici:-- "a prince's acts his people imitate; for on their lord the eyes of all men wait."[ ] [footnote : e quel che fa il signer, fanno poi molti; chè nel signer son tutti gli occhi volti. (_la rappresentazione di san giovanni e paolo._)] chapter xxx.--_that a citizen who seeks by his personal influence to render signal service to his country, must first stand clear of envy. how a city should prepare for its defence on the approach of an enemy._ when the roman senate learned that all etruria was assembled in arms to march against rome, and that the latins and hernicians, who before had been the friends of the romans, had ranged themselves with the volscians the ancient enemies of the roman name, they foresaw that a perilous contest awaited them. but because camillus was at that time tribune with consular authority they thought all might be managed without the appointment of a dictator, provided the other tribunes, his colleagues would agree to his assuming the sole direction of affairs. this they willingly did; "_nor_," says titus livius, "_did they account anything as taken from their own dignity which was added to his._" on receiving their promise of obedience, camillus gave orders that three armies should be enrolled. of the first, which was to be directed against the etruscans, he himself assumed command. the command of the second, which he meant to remain near rome and meet any movement of the latins and hernicians, he gave to quintius servilius. the third army, which he designed for the protection of the city, and the defence of the gates and curia, he entrusted to lucius quintius. and he further directed, that horatius, one of his colleagues, should furnish supplies of arms, and corn, and of all else needful in time of war. finally he put forward his colleague cornelius to preside in the senate and public council, that from day to day he might advise what should be done. for in those times these tribunes were ready either to command or obey as the welfare of their country might require. we may gather from this passage how a brave and prudent man should act, how much good he may effect, and how serviceable he may be to his country, when by the force of his character and worth he succeeds in extinguishing envy. for this often disables men from acting to the best advantage, not permitting them to obtain that authority which it is essential they should have in matters of importance. now, envy may be extinguished in one or other of two ways: first, by the approach of some flagrant danger, whereby seeing themselves like to be overwhelmed, all forego their own private ambition and lend a willing obedience to him who counts on his valour to rescue them. as in the case of camillas, who from having given many proofs of surpassing ability, and from having been three times dictator and always exercised the office for the public good and not for his private advantage, had brought men to fear nothing from his advancement; while his fame and reputation made it no shame for them to recognize him as their superior. wisely, therefore, does titus livius use concerning him the words which i have cited. the other way in which envy may be extinguished, is by the death, whether by violence or in the ordinary course of nature, of those who have been your rivals in the pursuit of fame or power, and who seeing you better esteemed than themselves, could never acquiesce in your superiority or put up with it in patience. for when these men have been brought up in a corrupt city, where their training is little likely to improve them, nothing that can happen will induce them to withdraw their pretensions; nay, to have their own way and satisfy their perverse humour, they will be content to look on while their country is ruined. for envy such as this there is no cure save by the death of those of whom it has taken possession. and when fortune so befriends a great man that his rivals are removed from his path by a natural death, his glory is established without scandal or offence, since he is then able to display his great qualities unhindered. but when fortune is not thus propitious to him, he must contrive other means to rid himself of rivals, and must do so successfully before he can accomplish anything. any one who reads with intelligence the lessons of holy writ, will remember how moses, to give effect to his laws and ordinances, was constrained to put to death an endless number of those who out of mere envy withstood his designs. the necessity of this course was well understood by the friar girolamo savonarola, and by the gonfalonier piero soderini. but the former could not comply with it, because, as a friar, he himself lacked the needful authority; while those of his followers who might have exercised that authority, did not rightly comprehend his teaching. this, however, was no fault of his; for his sermons are full of invectives and attacks against "_the wise of this world_," that being the name he gave to envious rivals and to all who opposed his reforms. as for piero soderini, he was possessed by the belief that in time and with favourable fortune he could allay envy by gentleness-and by benefits conferred on particular men; for as he was still in the prime of life, and in the fresh enjoyment of that good-will which his character and opinions had gained for him, he thought to get the better of all who out of jealousy opposed him, without giving occasion for tumult, violence, or disorder; not knowing how time stays not, worth suffices not, fortune shifts, and malice will not be won over by any benefit wherefore, because they could not or knew not how to vanquish this envy, the two whom i have named came to their downfall. another point to be noted in the passage we are considering, is the careful provision made by camillus for the safety of rome both within and without the city. and, truly, not without reason do wise historians, like our author, set forth certain events with much minuteness and detail, to the end that those who come after may learn how to protect themselves in like dangers. further, we have to note that there is no more hazardous or less useful defence than one conducted without method or system. this is shown in camillus causing a third army to be enrolled that it might be left in rome for the protection of the city. many persons, doubtless, both then and now, would esteem this precaution superfluous, thinking that as the romans were a warlike people and constantly under arms, there could be no occasion for a special levy, and that it was time enough to arm when the need came. but camillus, and any other equally prudent captain would be of the same mind, judged otherwise, not permitting the multitude to take up arms unless they were to be bound by the rules and discipline of military service. let him, therefore, who is called on to defend a city, taking example by camillus, before all things avoid placing arms in the hands of an undisciplined multitude, but first of all select and enroll those whom he proposes to arm, so that they may be wholly governed by him as to where they shall assemble and whither they shall march; and then let him direct those who are not enrolled, to abide every man in his own house for its defence. whosoever observes this method in a city which is attacked, will be able to defend it with ease; but whosoever disregards it, and follows not the example of camillus, shall never succeed. chapter xxxi.--_that strong republics and valiant men preserve through every change the same spirit and bearing._ among other high sayings which our historian ascribes to camillus, as showing of what stuff a truly great man should be made, he puts in his mouth the words, "_my courage came not with my dictatorship nor went with my exile;_" for by these words we are taught that a great man is constantly the same through all vicissitudes of fortune; so that although she change, now exalting, now depressing, he remains unchanged, and retains always a mind so unmoved, and in such complete accordance with his nature as declares to all that over him fortune has no dominion. very different is the behaviour of those weak-minded mortals who, puffed up and intoxicated with their success, ascribe all their felicity to virtues which they never knew, and thus grow hateful and insupportable to all around them. whence also the changes in their fortunes. for whenever they have to look adversity in the face, they suddenly pass to the other extreme, becoming abject and base. and thus it happens that feeble-minded princes, when they fall into difficulties, think rather of flight than of defence, because, having made bad use of their prosperity, they are wholly unprepared to defend themselves. the same merits and defects which i say are found in individual men, are likewise found in republics, whereof we have example in the case of rome and of venice. for no reverse of fortune ever broke the spirit of the roman people, nor did any success ever unduly elate them; as we see plainly after their defeat at cannæ, and after the victory they had over antiochus. for the defeat at cannæ, although most momentous, being the third they had met with, no whit daunted them; so that they continued to send forth armies, refused to ransom prisoners as contrary to their custom, and despatched no envoy to hannibal or to carthage to sue for peace; but without ever looking back on past humiliations, thought always of war, though in such straits for soldiers that they had to arm their old men and slaves. which facts being made known to hanno the carthaginian, he, as i have already related, warned the carthaginian senate not to lay too much stress upon their victory. here, therefore, we see that in times of adversity the romans were neither cast down nor dismayed. on the other hand, no prosperity ever made them arrogant. before fighting the battle wherein he was finally routed, antiochus sent messengers to scipio to treat for an accord; when scipio offered peace on condition that he withdrew at once into syria, leaving all his other dominions to be dealt with by the romans as they thought fit. antiochus refusing these terms, fought and was defeated, and again sent envoys to scipio, enjoining them to accept whatever conditions the victor might be pleased to impose. but scipio proposed no different terms from those he had offered before saying that "_the romans, as they lost not heart on defeat, so waxed not insolent with success._" the contrary of all this is seen in the behaviour of the venetians, who thinking their good fortune due to valour of which they were devoid, in their pride addressed the french king as "son of st. mark;" and making no account of the church, and no longer restricting their ambition to the limits of italy, came to dream of founding an empire like the roman. but afterwards, when their good fortune deserted them, and they met at vailà a half-defeat at the hands of the french king, they lost their whole dominions, not altogether from revolt, but mainly by a base and abject surrender to the pope and the king of spain. nay, so low did they stoop as to send ambassadors to the emperor offering to become his tributaries, and to write letters to the pope, full of submission and servility, in order to move his compassion. to such abasement were they brought in four days' time by what was in reality only a half-defeat. for on their flight after the battle of vailà only about a half of their forces were engaged, and one of their two provedditori escaped to verona with five and twenty thousand men, horse and foot. so that had there been a spark of valour in venice, or any soundness in her military system, she might easily have renewed her armies, and again confronting fortune have stood prepared either to conquer, or, if she must fall, to fall more gloriously; and at any rate might have obtained for herself more honourable terms. but a pusillanimous spirit, occasioned by the defects of her ordinances in so far as they relate to war, caused her to lose at once her courage and her dominions. and so will it always happen with those who behave like the venetians. for when men grow insolent in good fortune, and abject inn evil, the fault lies in themselves and in the character of their training, which, when slight and frivolous, assimilates them to itself; but when otherwise, makes them of another temper, and giving them better acquaintance with the world, causes them to be less disheartened by misfortunes and less elated by success. and while this is true of individual men, it holds good also of a concourse of men living together in one republic, who will arrive at that measure of perfection which the institutions of their state permit. and although i have already said on another occasion that a good militia is the foundation of all states, and where that is wanting there can neither be good laws, nor aught else that is good, it seems to me not superfluous to say the same again; because in reading this history of titus livius the necessity of such a foundation is made apparent in every page. it is likewise shown that no army can be good unless it be thoroughly trained and exercised, and that this can only be the case with an army raised from your own subjects. for as a state is not and cannot always be at war, you must have opportunity to train your army in times of peace; but this, having regard to the cost, you can only have in respect of your own subjects. when camillus, as already related, went forth to meet the etruscans, his soldiers on seeing the great army of their enemy, were filled with fear, thinking themselves too to withstand its onset. this untoward disposition being reported to camillus, he showed himself to his men and by visiting their tents, and conversing with this and the other among them, was able to remove their misgivings; and, finally, without other word of command, he bade them "_each do his part as he had learned and been accustomed_." now, any one who well considers the methods followed by camillus, and the words spoken by him to encourage his soldiers to face their enemy, will perceive that these words and methods could never have been used with an army which had not been trained and disciplined in time of peace as well as of war. for no captain can trust to untrained soldiers or look for good service at their hands; nay, though he were another hannibal, with such troops his defeat were certain. for, as a captain cannot be present everywhere while a battle is being fought, unless he have taken all measures beforehand to render his men of the same temper as himself, and have made sure that they perfectly understand his orders and arrangements, he will inevitably be destroyed. when a city therefore is armed and trained as rome was, and when its citizens have daily opportunity, both singly and together, to make trial of their valour and learn what fortune can effect, it will always happen, that at all times, and whether circumstances be adverse or favourable, they will remain of unaltered courage and preserve the same noble bearing. but when its citizens are unpractised in arms, and trust not to their own valour but wholly to the arbitration of fortune, they will change their temper as she changes, and offer always the same example of behaviour as was given by the venetians. chapter xxxii.--_of the methods which some have used to make peace impossible_. the towns of cære and velitræ, two of her own colonies, revolted from rome in expectation of being protected by the latins. but the latins being routed and all hopes of help from that quarter at an end, many of the townsmen recommended that envoys should be sent to rome to make their peace with the senate. this proposal, however, was defeated by those who had been the prime movers of the revolt, who, fearing that the whole punishment might fall on their heads, to put a stop to any talk of an adjustment, incited the multitude to take up arms and make a foray into the roman territory. and, in truth, when it is desired that a prince or people should banish from their minds every thought of reconciliation, there is no surer or more effectual plan than to incite them to inflict grave wrong on him with whom you would not have them be reconciled; for, then, the fear of that punishment which they will seem to themselves to have deserved, will always keep them apart. at the close of the first war waged by the romans against carthage, the soldiers who had served under the carthaginians in sardinia and sicily, upon peace being proclaimed, returned to africa; where, being dissatisfied with their pay, they mutinied against the carthaginians, and choosing two of their number, mato and spendio, to be their leaders, seized and sacked many towns subject to carthage. the carthaginians, being loath to use force until they had tried all other methods for bringing them to reason, sent hasdrubal, their fellow-citizen, to mediate with them, thinking that from formerly having commanded them he might be able to exercise some influence over them. but on his arrival, spendio and mato, to extinguish any hope these mutineers might have had of making peace with carthage, and so leave them no alternative but war, persuaded them that their best course was to put hasdrubal, with all the other carthaginian citizens whom they had taken prisoners, to death. whereupon, they not only put them to death, but first subjected them to an infinity of tortures; crowning their wickedness by a proclamation to the effect that every carthaginian who might thereafter fall into their hands should meet a like fate. this advice, therefore, and its consummation had the effect of rendering these mutineers relentless and inveterate in their hostility to the carthaginians. chapter xxxiii.--_that to insure victory in battle you must inspire your men with confidence in one another and in you._ to insure an army being victorious in battle you must inspire it with the conviction that it is certain to prevail. the causes which give it this confidence are its being well armed and disciplined, and the soldiers knowing one another. these conditions are only to be found united in soldiers born and bred in the same country. it is likewise essential that the army should think so well of its captain as to trust implicitly to his prudence; which it will always do if it see him careful of its welfare, attentive to discipline, brave in battle, and otherwise supporting well and honourably the dignity of his position. these conditions he fulfils when, while punishing faults, he does not needlessly harass his men, keeps his word with them, shows them that the path to victory is easy, and conceals from them, or makes light of things which seen from a distance might appear to threaten danger. the observance of these precautions will give an army great confidence, and such confidence leads to victory. this confidence the romans were wont to inspire in the minds of their soldiers by the aid of religion; and accordingly their consuls were appointed, their armies were enrolled, their soldiers marched forth, and their battles were begun, only when the auguries and auspices were favourable; and without attending to all these observances no prudent captain would ever engage in combat; knowing that unless his soldiers were first assured that the gods were on their side, he might readily suffer defeat. but if any consul or other leader ever joined battle contrary to the auspices, the romans would punish him, as they did claudius pulcher. the truth of what i affirm is plainly seen from the whole course of the roman history, but is more particularly established by the words which livius puts into the mouth of appius claudius, who, when complaining to the people of the insolence of the tribunes, and taxing them with having caused the corruption of the auspices and other rites of religion, is made to say, "_and now they would strip even religion of its authority. for what matters it, they will tell you, that the fowls refuse to peck, or come slowly from the coop, or that a cock has crowed? these are small matters doubtless; but it was by not contemning such small matters as these, that our forefathers built up this great republic._" and, indeed, in these small matters lies a power which keeps men united and of good courage, which is of itself the chief condition of success. but the observances of religion must be accompanied by valour, for otherwise they can nothing avail. the men of praneste, leading forth their army against the romans, took up their position near the river allia, on the very spot where the romans had been routed by the gauls, selecting this ground that it might inspire their own side with confidence, and dishearten their enemies with the unhappy memories which it recalled but although, for the reasons already noted, this was a course which promised success, the result nevertheless showed that true valour is not to be daunted by trifling disadvantages. and this the historian well expresses by the words he puts in the mouth of the dictator as spoken to his master of the knights "_see how these fellows, in encamping on the banks of the allia, have chosen their ground in reliance upon fortune. do you, therefore, relying on discipline and valour, fall upon then centre._" for true valour, tight discipline, and the feeling of security gained by repeated victories, are not to be counteracted by things of no real moment, dismayed by empty terrors, or quelled by a solitary mishap. as was well seen when the two manlii, being consuls in command against the volscians, rashly allowed a part of their army to go out foraging, and both those who went out and those who stayed behind found themselves attacked at the same moment for from this danger they were saved by the courage of the soldiers, and not by the foresight of the consuls. with regard to which occurrence titus livius observes, "_even without a leader the steadfast valour of the soldiers was maintained._" here i must not omit to notice the device practised by fabius to give his army confidence, when he led it for the first time into etruria. for judging such encouragement to be especially needed by his men, since they were entering an unknown country to encounter a new foe, he addressed them before they joined battle, and, after reciting many reasons for expecting a victory, told them, that "_he could have mentioned other favourable circumstances making victory certain, had it not been dangerous to disclose them._" and as this device was dexterously used it merits imitation. chapter xxxiv.--_by what reports, rumours, or surmises the citizens of a republic are led to favour a fellow-citizen: and-whether the magistracies are bestowed with better judgment by a people or by a prince._ i have elsewhere related how titus manlius, afterwards named torquatus, rescued his father from the charge laid against him by marcus pomponius, tribune of the people. and though the means he took to effect this were somewhat violent and irregular, so pleasing to everyone were his filial piety and affection, that not only did he escape rebuke, but when military tribunes had to be appointed his name was second on the list of those chosen. to explain his good fortune, it will, i think, be useful to consider what are the methods followed by the citizens of a republic in estimating the character of those on whom they bestow honours, so as to see whether what i have already said on this head be true, namely, that a people is more discriminating in awarding honours than a prince. i say, then, that in conferring honours and offices, the people, when it has no knowledge of a man from his public career, follows the estimate given of him by the general voice, and by common report; or else is guided by some prepossession or preconceived opinion which it has adopted concerning him. such impressions are formed either from consideration of a man's descent (it being assumed, until the contrary appears, that where his ancestors have been great and distinguished citizens their descendant will resemble them), or else from regard to his manners and habits; and nothing can be more in his favour than that he frequents the company of the grave and virtuous, and such as are generally reputed wise. for as we can have no better clue to a man's character than the company he keeps, he who frequents worthy company deservedly obtains a good name, since there can hardly fail to be some similarity between himself and his associates. sometimes, however, the popular estimate of a man is founded on some remarkable and noteworthy action, though not of public moment, in which he has acquitted himself well. and of all the three causes which create a prepossession in a man's favour, none is so effectual as this last. for the presumption that he will resemble his ancestors and kinsmen is so often misleading, that men are slow to trust and quick to discard it, unless confirmed by the personal worth of him of whom they are judging. the criterion of character afforded by a man's manners and conversation is a safer guide than the presumption of inherited excellence, but is far inferior to that afforded by his actions; for until he has given actual proof of his worth, his credit is built on mere opinion, which may readily change. but this third mode of judging, which originates in and rests upon his actions, at once gives him a name which can only be destroyed by his afterwards doing many actions of a contrary nature. those therefore who live in a republic should conform to this third criterion, and endeavour, as did many of the roman youth, to make their start in life with some extraordinary achievement, either by promoting a law conducive to the general well-being, or by accusing some powerful citizen as a transgressor of the laws, or by performing some similar new and notable action which cannot fail to be much spoken of. actions like this are necessary not only to lay a foundation for your fame, but also to maintain and extend it. to which end, they must continually be renewed, as we find done by titus manlius throughout the whole course of his life. for after winning his earliest renown by his bold and singular defence of his father, when some years had passed he fought his famous duel with the gaul, from whom, when he had slain him, he took the twisted golden collar which gave him the name of torquatus. nor was this the last of his remarkable actions, for at a later period, when he was of ripe years, he caused his own son to be put to death, because he had fought without leave, although successfully. which three actions gained for him at the time a greater name, and have made him more renowned through after ages than all his triumphs and victories, though of these he had as large a share as fell to the lot of any other roman. the explanation of which is, that while in his victories manlius had many who resembled him, in these particular actions he stood almost or entirely alone. so, too, with the elder scipio, all whose victories together did not obtain for him so much reputation, as did his rescue, while he was yet young, of his father at the ticino, and his undaunted bearing after the rout at cannæ, when with his naked sword he constrained a number of the roman youth to swear never to abandon their country, as some among them had before been minded to do. it was these two actions, therefore, which laid the foundation of his future fame and paved the way for his triumphs in spain and africa. and the fair esteem in which men held him, was still further heightened when in spain he restored a daughter to her father, a wife to her husband. nor is it only the citizen who seeks reputation as leading to civil honours, who must act in this way; the prince who would maintain his credit in his princedom must do likewise; since nothing helps so much to make a prince esteemed as to give signal proofs of his worth, whether by words or by deeds which tend to promote the public good, and show him to be so magnanimous, generous, and just, that he may well pass into a proverb among his subjects. but to return to the point whence i digressed, i say that if a people, when they first confer honours on a fellow-citizen, rest their judgment on any one of the three circumstances above-mentioned, they build on a reasonable foundation; but, when many instances of noble conduct have made a man favourably known, that the foundation is still better, since then there is hardly room for mistake. i speak merely of those honours which are bestowed on a man at the outset of his career, before he has come to be known by continued proof, or is found to have passed from one kind of conduct to another and dissimilar kind, and i maintain that in such cases, so far as erroneous judgments or corrupt motives are concerned, a people will always commit fewer mistakes than a prince. but since a people may happen to be deceived as regards the character, reputation, and actions of a man, thinking them better or greater than in truth they are, an error a prince is less likely to fall into from his being informed and warned by his advisers, in order that the people may not lack similar advice, wise founders of republics have provided, that when the highest dignities of the state, to which it would be dangerous to appoint incapable men, have to be filled up, and it appears that some incapable man is the object of the popular choice, it shall be lawful and accounted honourable for any citizen to declare in the public assemblies the defects of the favoured candidate, that the people, being made acquainted therewith, may be better able to judge of his fitness. that this was the practice in rome we have proof in the speech made by fabius maximus to the people during the second punic war, when in the appointment of consuls public favour leaned towards titus ottacilius. for fabius judging him unequal to the duties of the consulship at such a crisis, spoke against him and pointed out his insufficiency, and so prevented his appointment, turning the popular favour towards another who deserved it more. in the choice of its magistrates, therefore, a people judges of those among whom it has to choose, in accordance with the surest indications it can get; and when it can be advised as princes are, makes fewer mistakes than they. but the citizen who would make a beginning by gaining the good-will of the people, must, to obtain it, perform, like titus manlius, some noteworthy action. chapter xxxv.--_of the danger incurred in being the first to recommend new measures; and that the more unusual the measures the greater the danger_. how perilous a thing it is to put one's self at the head of changes whereby many are affected, how difficult to guide and bring them to perfection, and when perfected to maintain them, were too wide and arduous a subject to be treated here. wherefore i reserve it for a fitter occasion, and shall now speak only of those dangers which are incurred by the citizens of a republic or by the counsellors of a prince in being the first to promote some grave and important measure in such manner that the whole responsibility attending it rests with them. for as men judge of things by their results, any evil which ensues from such measures will be imputed to their author. and although if good ensue he will be applauded, nevertheless in matters of this kind, what a man may gain is as nothing to what he may lose. selim, the present sultan, or grand turk as he is called, being in readiness, as some who come from his country relate, to set forth on an expedition against egypt and syria, was urged by one of his bashaws whom he had stationed on the confines of persia, to make war upon the sofi. in compliance with which advice he went on this new enterprise with a vast army. but coming to a great plain, wherein were many deserts and few streams, and encountering the same difficulties as in ancient times had proved the ruin of many roman armies, he suffered so much from pestilence and famine, that, although victorious in battle, he lost a great part of his men. this so enraged him against the bashaw on whose advice he had acted, that he forthwith put him to death. in like manner, we read of many citizens who having strenuously promoted various measures were banished when these turned out badly. certain citizens of rome, for instance, were very active in forwarding a law allowing the appointment of a plebeian to be consul. this law passing, it so happened that the first plebeian consul who went forth with the armies was routed; and had it not been that the party in whose behalf the law was made was extremely powerful, its promoters would have fared badly. it is plain therefore that the counsellors whether of a republic or of a prince stand in this dilemma, that if they do not conscientiously advise whatsoever they think advantageous for their city or prince, they fail in their duty; if they do advise it, they risk their places and their lives; all men being subject to this infirmity of judging advice by the event. when i consider in what way this reproach or this danger may best be escaped, i find no other remedy to recommend than that in giving advice you proceed discreetly not identifying yourself in a special manner with the measure you would see carried out, but offering your opinion without heat, and supporting it temperately and modestly, so that if the prince or city follow it, they shall do so of their own good-will, and not seem to be dragged into it by your importunity. when you act thus, neither prince nor people can reasonably bear you a grudge in respect of the advice given by you, since that advice was not adopted contrary to the general opinion. for your danger lies in many having opposed you, who afterwards, should your advice prove hurtful, combine to ruin you. and although in taking this course you fall short of the glory which is earned by him who stands alone against many in urging some measure which succeeds, you have nevertheless two advantages to make up for it: first, that you escape danger; and second, that when you have temperately stated your views, and when, in consequence of opposition, your advice has not been taken, should other counsels prevail and mischief come of them, your credit will be vastly enhanced. and although credit gained at the cost of misfortune to your prince or city cannot be matter of rejoicing, still it is something to be taken into account. on this head, then, i know of no other advice to offer. for that you should be silent and express no opinion at all, were a course hurtful for your prince or city, and which would not absolve you from danger, since you would soon grow to be suspected, when it might fare with you as with the friend of perseus the macedonian king. for perseus being defeated by paulus emilius, and making his escape with a few companions, it happened that one of them, in reviewing the past, began to point out to the king many mistakes which he had made and which had been his ruin. whereupon perseus turning upon him said, "_traitor, hast thou waited till now when there is no remedy to tell me these things_?" and so saying, slew him with his own hand. such was the penalty incurred by one who was silent when he should have spoken, and who spoke when he should have been silent; and who found no escape from danger in having refrained from giving advice. wherefore, i believe, that the course which i have recommended should be observed and followed. chapter xxxvi.--_why it has been and still may be affirmed of the gauls, that at the beginning of a fray they are more than men, but afterwards less than women_. the bravery of the gaul who on the banks of the anio challenged any among the romans to fight with him, and the combat that thereupon ensued between him and titus manlius, remind me of what titus livius oftener than once observes in his history, that "_at the beginning of a fray the gauls are more than men, but ere it is ended show themselves less than women_." touching the cause of this, many are content to believe that such is their nature, which, indeed, i take to be true; but we are not, therefore, to assume that the natural temper which makes them brave at the outset, may not be so trained and regulated as to keep them brave to the end. and, to prove this, i say, that armies are of three kinds. in one of these you have discipline with bravery and valour as its consequence. such was the roman army, which is shown by all historians to have maintained excellent discipline as the result of constant military training. and because in a well-disciplined army none must do anything save by rule, we find that in the roman army, from which as it conquered the world all others should take example, none either eat, or slept, or bought, or sold, or did anything else, whether in his military or in his private capacity, without orders from the consul. those armies which do otherwise are not true armies, and if ever they have any success, it is owing to the fury and impetuosity of their onset and not to trained and steady valour. but of this impetuosity and fury, trained valour, when occasion requires, will make use; nor will any danger daunt it or cause it to lose heart, its courage being kept alive by its discipline, and its confidence fed by the hope of victory which never fails it while that discipline is maintained. but the contrary happens with armies of the second sort, those, namely, which have impetuosity without discipline, as was the case with the gauls whose courage in a protracted conflict gradually wore away; so that unless they succeeded in their first attack, the impetuosity to which they trusted, having no support from disciplined valour, soon cooled; when, as they had nothing else to depend on, their efforts ceased. the romans, on the other hand, being less disquieted in danger by reason of their perfect discipline, and never losing hope, fought steadily and stubbornly to the last, and with the same courage at the end as at the outset; nay, growing heated by the conflict, only became the fiercer the longer it was continued. in armies of the third sort both natural spirit and trained valour are wanting; and to this class belong the italian armies of our own times, of which it may be affirmed that they are absolutely worthless, never obtaining a victory, save when, by some accident, the enemy they encounter takes to flight. but since we have daily proofs of this absence of valour, it were needless to set forth particular instances of it. that all, however, may know on the testimony of titus livius what methods a good army should take, and what are taken by a bad army, i shall cite the words he represents papirius cursor to have used when urging that fabius, his master of the knights, should be punished for disobedience, and denouncing the consequences which would ensue were he absolved, saying:--"_let neither god nor man be held in reverence; let the orders of captains and the divine auspices be alike disregarded; let a vagrant soldiery range without leave through the country of friend or foe; reckless of their military oath, let them disband at their pleasure; let them forsake their deserted standards, and neither rally nor disperse at the word of command; let them fight when they choose, by day or by night, with or without advantage of ground, with or without the bidding of their leader, neither maintaining their ranks _nor observing the order of battle; and let our armies, from being a solemn and consecrated company, grow to resemble some dark and fortuitous gathering of cut-throats._" with this passage before us, it is easy to pronounce whether the armies of our times be "_a dark and fortuitous gathering_," or "_a solemn and consecrated company_;" nay, how far they fall short of anything worthy to be called an army, possessing neither the impetuous but disciplined valour of the romans, nor even the mere undisciplined impetuosity of the gauls. chapter xxxvii.--_whether a general engagement should be preceded by skirmishes; and how, avoiding these, we may get knowledge of a new enemy._ besides all the other difficulties which hinder men from bringing anything to its utmost perfection, it appears, as i have already observed, that in close vicinity to every good is found also an evil, so apt to grow up along with it that it is hardly possible to have the one without accepting the other. this we see in all human affairs, and the result is, that unless fortune aid us to overcome this natural and common disadvantage, we never arrive at any excellence. i am reminded of this by the combat between titus manlius and the gaul, concerning which livius writes that it "_determined the issue of the entire war; since the gauls, abandoning their camp, hastily withdrew to the country about tivoli, whence they presently passed into campania._" it may be said, therefore, on the one hand, that a prudent captain ought absolutely to refrain from all those operations which, while of trifling moment in themselves, may possibly produce an ill effect on his army. now, to engage in a combat wherein you risk your whole fortunes without putting forth your entire strength, is, as i observed before, when condemning the defence of a country by guarding its defiles, an utterly foolhardy course. on the other hand, it is to be said that a prudent captain, when he has to meet a new and redoubtable adversary, ought, before coming to a general engagement, to accustom his men by skirmishes and passages of arms, to the quality of their enemy; that they may learn to know him, and how to deal with him, and so free themselves from the feeling of dread which his name and fame inspire. this for a captain is a matter of the very greatest importance, and one which it might be almost fatal for him to neglect, since to risk a pitched battle without first giving your soldiers such opportunities to know their enemy and shake off their fear of him, is to rush on certain destruction. when valerius corvinus was sent by the romans with their armies against the samnites, these being new adversaries with whom up to that time they had not measured their strength, titus livius tells us that before giving battle he made his men make trial of the enemy in several unimportant skirmishes, "_lest they should be dismayed by a new foe and a new method of warfare._" nevertheless, there is very great danger that, if your soldiers get the worst in these encounters, their alarm and self-distrust may be increased, and a result follow contrary to that intended, namely, that you dispirit where you meant to reassure. this, therefore, is one of those cases in which the evil lies so nigh the good, and both are so mixed up together that you may readily lay hold of the one when you think to grasp the other. and with regard to this i say, that a good captain should do what he can that nothing happen which might discourage his men, nor is there anything so likely to discourage them as to begin with a defeat. for which reason skirmishes are, as a rule, to be avoided, and only to be allowed where you fight to great advantage and with a certainty of victory. in like manner, no attempt should be made to defend the passes leading into your country unless your whole army can co-operate; nor are any towns to be defended save those whose loss necessarily involves your ruin. and as to those towns which you do defend, you must so arrange, both in respect of the garrison within and the army without, that in the event of a siege your whole forces can be employed. all other towns you must leave undefended. for, provided your army be kept together, you do not, in losing what you voluntarily abandon, forfeit your military reputation, or sacrifice your hopes of final success. but when you lose what it was your purpose, and what all know it was your purpose to hold, you suffer a real loss and injury, and, like the gauls on the defeat of their champion, you are ruined by a mishap of no moment in itself. philip of macedon, the father of perseus, a great soldier in his day, and of a great name, on being invaded by the romans, laid waste and relinquished much of his territory which he thought he could not defend; rightly judging it more hurtful to his reputation to lose territory after an attempt to defend it, than to abandon it to the enemy as something he cared little to retain. so, likewise, after the battle of cannæ, when their affairs were at their worst, the romans refused aid to many subject and protected states, charging them to defend themselves as best they could. and this is a better course than to undertake to defend and then to fail; for by refusing to defend, you lose only your friend; whereas in failing, you not only lose your friend, but weaken yourself. but to return to the matter in hand, i affirm, that even when a captain is constrained by inexperience of his enemy to make trial of him by means of skirmishes, he ought first to see that he has so much the advantage that he runs no risk of defeat; or else, and this is his better course, he must do as marius did when sent against the cimbrians, a very courageous people who were laying italy waste, and by their fierceness and numbers, and from the fact of their having already routed a roman army, spreading terror wherever they came. for before fighting a decisive battle, marius judged it necessary to do something to lessen the dread in which these enemies were held by his army; and being a prudent commander, he, on several occasions, posted his men at points where the cimbrians must pass, that seeing and growing familiar with their appearance, while themselves in safety and within the shelter of their intrenched camp, and finding them to be a mere disorderly rabble, encumbered with baggage, and either without weapons, or with none that were formidable, they might at last assume courage and grow eager to engage them in battle. the part thus prudently taken by marius, should be carefully imitated by others who would escape the dangers above spoken of and not have to betake themselves like the gauls to a disgraceful flight, on sustaining some trifling defeat. but since in this discourse i have referred by name to valerius corvinus, in my next chapter i shall cite his words to show what manner of man a captain ought to be. chapter xxxviii.--_of the qualities of a captain in whom his soldiers can confide._ valerius corvinus, as i have said already, was sent in command of an army against the samnites, who were then new enemies to rome. wherefore, to reassure his soldiers and familiarize them with their adversaries, he made them engage with them in various unimportant passages of arms. but not thinking this enough, he resolved before delivering battle to address his men, and by reminding them of their valour and his own, to make it plain how little they should esteem such enemies. and from the words which titus livius puts in his mouth we may gather what manner of man the captain ought to be in whom an army will put its trust. for he makes him say:--"_bear ye also this in mind under whose conduct and auspices you are about to fight, and whether he whom you are to obey be great only in exhorting, bold only in words, and all unpractised in arms; or whether he be one who himself knows how to use his spear, to march before the eagles, and play his part in the thickest of the fight. soldiers! i would have you follow my deeds and not my words, and look to me for example rather than for commands; for with this right hand i have won for myself three consulships, and an unsurpassed renown._" which words rightly understood give every one to know what he must do to merit a captain's rank. and if any man obtain it by other means, he will soon discover that advancement due to chance or intrigue rather takes away than brings reputation, since it is men who give lustre to titles and not titles to men. from what has been said it will likewise be understood that if great captains when matched against an unfamiliar foe have had to resort to unusual methods for reassuring the minds even of veteran soldiers, much more will it be necessary for them to use all their address when in command of a raw and untried army which has never before looked an enemy in the face. for if an unfamiliar adversary inspire terror even in a veteran army, how much greater must be the terror which any army will inspire in the minds of untrained men. and yet we often find all these difficulties overcome by the supreme prudence of a great captain like the roman gracchus or the theban epaminondas, of whom i have before spoken, who with untried troops defeated the most practised veterans. and the method they are said to have followed was to train their men for some months in mimic warfare, so as to accustom them to discipline and obedience, after which they employed them with complete confidence on actual service. no man, therefore, of warlike genius, need despair of creating a good army if only he have the men; for the prince who has many subjects and yet lacks soldiers, has only to thank his own inertness and want of foresight, and must not complain of the cowardice of his people. chapter xxxix.--_that a captain should have good knowledge of places._ among other qualifications essential in a good captain is a knowledge, both general and particular, of places and countries, for without such knowledge it is impossible for him to carry out any enterprise in the best way. and while practice is needed for perfection in every art, in this it is needed in the highest degree. such practice, or particular knowledge as it may be termed, is sooner acquired in the chase than in any other exercise; and, accordingly, we find it said by ancient historians that those heroes who, in their day, ruled the world, were bred in the woods and trained to the chase; for this exercise not merely gives the knowledge i speak of, but teaches countless other lessons needful in war. and xenophon in his life of cyrus tells us, that cyrus, on his expedition against the king of armenia, when assigning to each of his followers the part he was to perform, reminded them that the enterprise on which they were engaged, differed little from one of those hunting expeditions on which they had gone so often in his company; likening those who were to lie in ambush in the mountains, to the men sent to spread the toils on the hill-tops; and those who were to overrun the plain, to the beaters whose business it is to start the game from its lair that it may be driven into the toils. now, this is related to show how, in the opinion of xenophon, the chase is a mimic representation of war, and therefore to be esteemed by the great as useful and honourable. nor can that knowledge of countries which i have spoken of as necessary in a commander, be obtained in any convenient way except by the chase. for he who joins therein gains a special acquaintance with the character of the country in which it is followed; and he who has made himself specially familiar with one district, will afterwards readily understand the character of any strange country into which he comes. for all countries, and the districts of which they are made up, have a certain resemblance to one another, so that from a knowledge of one we can pass easily to the knowledge of another. he therefore who is without such practical acquaintance with some one country, can only with difficulty, and after a long time, obtain a knowledge of another, while he who possesses it can take in at a glance how this plain spreads, how that mountain slopes, whither that valley winds, and all other like particulars in respect of which he has already acquired a certain familiarity. the truth of what i affirm is shown by titus livius in the case of publius decius, who, being military tribune in the army which the consul cornelius led against the samnites, when the consul advanced into a defile where the roman army were like to be shut in by the enemy, perceiving the great danger they ran, and noting, as livius relates, a hill which rose by a steep ascent and overhung the enemy's camp, and which, though hard of access for heavy-armed troops, presented little difficulty to troops lightly armed, turned to the consul and said:--"_seest thou, aulus cornelius, yonder height over above the enemy, which they have been blind enough to neglect? there, were we manfully to seize it, might we find the citadel of our hopes and of our safety._" whereupon, he was sent by the consul with three thousand men to secure the height, and so saved the roman army. and as it was part of his plan to make his own escape and carry off his men safely under shelter of night, livius represents him as saying to his soldiers:--"_come with me, that, while daylight still serves, we may learn where the enemy have posted their guards, and by what exit we may issue hence._" accordingly, putting on the cloak of a common soldier, lest the enemy should observe that an officer was making his rounds he surveyed their camp in all directions. now any one who carefully studies the whole of this passage, must perceive how useful and necessary it is for a captain to know the nature of places, which knowledge had decius not possessed he could not have decided that it would be for the advantage of the roman army to occupy this hill; nor could he have judged from a distance whether the hill was accessible or no; and when he reached the summit and desired to return to the consul, since he was surrounded on all sides by the enemy, he never could have distinguished the path it was safe for him to take, from those guarded by the foe. for all which reasons it was absolutely essential that decius should have that thorough knowledge which enabled him by gaining possession of this hill to save the roman army, and to discover a path whereby, in the event of his being attacked, he and his followers might escape. chapter xl.--_that fraud is fair in war._ although in all other affairs it be hateful to use fraud, in the operations of war it is praiseworthy and glorious; so that he who gets the better of his enemy by fraud, is as much extolled as he who prevails by force. this appears in the judgments passed by such as have written of the lives of great warriors, who praise hannibal and those other captains who have been most noted for acting in this way. but since we may read of many instances of such frauds, i shall not cite them here. this, however, i desire to say, that i would not have it understood that any fraud is glorious which leads you to break your plighted word, or to depart from covenants to which you have agreed; for though to do so may sometimes gain you territory and power, it can never, as i have said elsewhere, gain you glory. the fraud, then, which i here speak of is that employed against an enemy who places no trust in you, and is wholly directed to military operations, such as the stratagem of hannibal at the lake of thrasymene, when he feigned flight in order to draw the roman consul and his army into an ambuscade; or when to escape from the hands of fabius maximus he fastened lights to the horns of his oxen. similar to the above was the deceit practised by pontius the samnite commander to inveigle the roman army into the caudine forks. for after he had drawn up his forces behind the hills, he sent out a number of his soldiers, disguised as herdsmen, to drive great herds of cattle across the plain; who being captured by the romans, and interrogated as to where the samnite army was, all of them, as they had been taught by pontius, agreed in saying that it had gone to besiege nocera: which being believed by the consuls, led them to advance within the caudine valley, where no sooner were they come than they were beset by the samnites. and the victory thus won by a fraud would have been most glorious for pontius had he but taken the advice of his father herennius, who urged that the romans should either be set at liberty unconditionally, or all be put to death; but that a mean course "_which neither gains friends nor gets rid of foes_" should be avoided. and this was sound advice, for, as has already been shown, in affairs of moment a mean course is always hurtful. chapter xli.--_that our country is to be defended by honour or by dishonour; and in either way is well defended._ the consuls together with the whole roman army fell, as i have related, into the hands of the samnites, who imposed on them the most ignominious terms, insisting that they should be stripped of their arms, and pass under the yoke before they were allowed to return to rome. the consuls being astounded by the harshness of these conditions and the whole army overwhelmed with dismay, lucius lentulus, the roman lieutenant, stood forward and said, that in his opinion they ought to decline no course whereby their country might be saved; and that as the very existence of rome depended on the preservation of her army, that army must be saved at any sacrifice, for whether the means be honourable or ignominious, all is well done that is done for the defence of our country. and he said that were her army preserved, rome, in course of time, might wipe out the disgrace; but if her army were destroyed, however gloriously it might perish, rome and her freedom would perish with it. in the event his counsel was followed. now this incident deserves to be noted and pondered over by every citizen who is called on to advise his country; for when the entire safety of our country is at stake, no consideration of what is just or unjust, merciful or cruel, praiseworthy or shameful, must intervene. on the contrary, every other consideration being set aside, that course alone must be taken which preserves the existence of the country and maintains its liberty. and this course we find followed by the people of france, both in their words and in their actions, with the view of supporting the dignity of their king and the integrity of their kingdom; for there is no remark they listen to with more impatience than that this or the other course is disgraceful to the king. for their king, they say, can incur no disgrace by any resolve he may take, whether it turn out well or ill; and whether it succeed or fail, all maintain that he has acted as a king should. chapter xlii.--_that promises made on compulsion are not to be observed._ when, after being subjected to this disgrace, the consuls returned to rome with their disarmed legions, spurius posthumius, himself one of the consuls, was the first to contend in the senate that the terms made in the caudine valley were not to be observed. for he argued that the roman people were not bound by them, though he himself doubtless was, together with all the others who had promised peace; wherefore, if the people desired to set themselves free from every engagement, he and all the rest who had given this promise must be made over as prisoners into the hands of the samnites. and so steadfastly did he hold to this opinion, that the senate were content to adopt it, and sending him and the rest as prisoners back to samnium, protested to the samnites that the peace was not binding. and so kind was fortune to posthumius on this occasion, that the samnites would not keep him as a prisoner, and that on his return to rome, notwithstanding his defeat, he was held in higher honour by the romans than the victorious pontius by his countrymen. here two points are to be noted; first, that glory may be won by any action; for although, commonly, it follow upon victory, it may also follow on defeat, if this defeat be seen to have happened through no fault of yours, or if, directly after, you perform some valiant action which cancels it. the other point to be noted is that there is no disgrace in not observing promises wrung from you by force; for promises thus extorted when they affect the public welfare will always be broken so soon as the pressure under which they were made is withdrawn, and that, too, without shame on the part of him who breaks them; of which we read many instances in history, and find them constantly occurring at the present day. nay, as between princes, not only are such compulsory promises broken when the force which extorted them is removed, but all other promises as well, are in like manner disregarded when the causes which led to them no longer operate. whether this is a thing to be commended or no, and whether such methods ought or ought not to be followed by princes, has already been considered by me in my "_treatise of the prince_" wherefore i say no more on that subject here. chapter xliii.--_that men born in the same province retain through all times nearly the same character._ the wise are wont to say, and not without reason or at random, that he who would forecast what is about to happen should look to what has been; since all human events, whether present or to come, have their exact counterpart in the past. and this, because these events are brought about by men, whose passions and dispositions remaining in all ages the same naturally give rise to the same effects; although, doubtless, the operation of these causes takes a higher form, now in one province, and now in another, according to the character of the training wherein the inhabitants of these provinces acquire their way of life. another aid towards judging of the future by the past, is to observe how the same nation long retains the same customs, remaining constantly covetous or deceitful, or similarly stamped by some one vice or virtue. any one reading the past history of our city of florence, and noting what has recently befallen it, will find the french and german nations overflowing with avarice, pride, cruelty, and perfidy, all of which four vices have at divers times wrought much harm to our city. as an instance of their perfidy, every one knows how often payments of money were made to charles viii. of france, in return for which he engaged to restore the fortresses of pisa, yet never did restore them, manifesting thereby his bad faith and grasping avarice. or, to pass from these very recent events, all may have heard of what happened in the war in which the florentines were involved with the visconti, dukes of milan, when florence, being left without other resource, resolved to invite the emperor into italy, that she might be assisted by his name and power in her struggle with lombardy. the emperor promised to come with a strong army to take part against the visconti and to protect florence from them, on condition that the florentines paid him a hundred thousand ducats on his setting out, and another hundred thousand on his arrival in italy; to which terms the florentines agreed. but although he then received payment of the first instalment and, afterwards, on reaching verona, of the second, he turned back from the expedition without effecting anything, alleging as his excuse that he was stopped by certain persons who had failed to fulfil their engagements. but if florence had not been urged by passion or overcome by necessity, or had she read of and understood the ancient usages of the barbarians, she would neither on this, nor on many other occasions, have been deceived by them, seeing that these nations have always been of the same character, and have always, in all circumstances, and with all men alike, used the same methods. for in ancient times we find them behaving after the same fashion to the etruscans, who, when overpowered by the romans, by whom they had been repeatedly routed and put to flight, perceiving that they could not stand without help, entered into a compact with the gauls dwelling in the parts of italy south of the alps, to pay them a certain sum if they would unite with them in a campaign against the romans. but the gauls, after taking their money, refused to arm on their behalf, alleging that they had not been paid to make war on the enemies of the etruscans, but only to refrain from pillaging their lands. and thus the people of etruria, through the avarice and perfidy of the gauls, were at once defrauded of their money and disappointed of the help which they had counted on obtaining. from which two instances of the etruscans in ancient times and of the florentines in recent, we may see that barbaric races have constantly followed the same methods, and may easily draw our conclusions as to how far princes should trust them. chapter xliv.--_that where ordinary methods fail, hardihood and daring often succeed._ when attacked by the romans, the samnites as they could not without help stand against them in the field, resolved to leave garrisons in the towns of samnium, and to pass with their main army into etruria, that country being then at truce with rome, and thus ascertain whether their actual presence in arms might not move the etruscans to renew hostilities against rome, which they had refused to renew when invited through envoys. during the negotiations which, on this occasion, passed between the two nations, the samnites in explaining the chief causes that led them to take up arms, used the memorable words--"_they had risen because peace is a heavier burthen for slaves than war for freemen_" in the end, partly by their persuasions, and partly by the presence of their army, they induced the etruscans to join forces with them. here we are to note that when a prince would obtain something from another, he ought, if the occasion allow, to leave him no time to deliberate, but should so contrive that the other may see the need of resolving at once; as he will, if he perceive that refusal or delay in complying with what is asked of him, will draw upon him a sudden and dangerous resentment. this method we have seen employed with good effect in our own times by pope julius ii. in dealing with france, and by m. de foix, the general of the french king, in dealing with the marquis of mantua. for pope julius desiring to expel the bentivogli from bologna, and thinking that for this purpose he needed the help of french troops, and to have the venetians neutral, after sounding both and receiving from both hesitating and ambiguous answers, determined to make both fall in with his views, by giving them no time to oppose him; and so, setting forth from rome with as strong a force as he could get together, he marched on bologna, sending word to the venetians that they must stand aloof, and to the king of france to send him troops. the result was that in the brief time allowed them, neither of the two powers could make up their mind to thwart him; and knowing that refusal or delay would be violently resented by the pope, they yielded to his demands, the king sending him soldiers and the venetians maintaining neutrality. m. de foix, again, being with the king's army in bologna when word came that brescia had risen, could not rest till he had recovered that town. but, to get there he had to choose between two routes, one long and circuitous leading through the territories of the king, the other short and direct. in taking the latter route, however, not only would he have to pass through the dominions of the marquis of mantua, but also to make his way into these through the lakes and marshes wherewith that country abounds, by following an embanked road, closed and guarded by the marquis with forts and other defensive works. resolving, nevertheless, to take the shortest road at all hazards, he waited till his men were already on their march before signifying to the marquis that he desired leave to pass through his country, so that no time might be left him to deliberate. taken aback by the unexpected demand, the marquis gave the leave sought, which he never would have given had de foix acted with less impetuosity. for he was in league with the venetians and with the pope, and had a son in the hands of the latter; all which circumstances would have afforded him fair pretexts for refusal. but carried away by the suddenness and urgency of the demand, he yielded. and in like manner the etruscans yielded to the instances of the samnites, the presence of whose army decided them to renew hostilities which before they had declined to renew. chapter xlv.--_whether in battle it is better to await and repel the enemy's attack, or to anticipate it by an impetuous onset._ decius and fabius, the roman consuls, were each of them in command of a separate army, one directed against the samnites, the other against the etruscans: and as both delivered battle, we have to pronounce, in respect of the two engagements, which commander followed the better method. decius attacked his enemy at once with the utmost fury and with his whole strength. fabius was content, at first, merely to maintain his ground; for judging that more was to be gained by a later attack, he reserved his forces for a final effort, when the ardour of the enemy had cooled and his energy spent itself. the event showed fabius to be more successful in his tactics than decius, who being exhausted by his first onset, and seeing his ranks begin to waver, to secure by death the glory he could no longer hope from victory, followed the example set him by his father, and sacrificed himself to save the roman legions. word whereof being brought to fabius, he, to gain, while he yet lived, as much honour as the other had earned by his death, pushed forward all the troops he had reserved for his final effort, and so obtained an unexampled victory. whence we see that of the two methods, that of fabius was the safer and the more deserving our imitation. chapter xlvi.--_how the characteristics of families come to be perpetuated._ manners and institutions differing in different cities, seem here to produce a harder and there a softer race; and a like difference may also be discerned in the character of different families in the same city. and while this holds good of all cities, we have many instances of it in reading the history of rome. for we find the manlii always stern and stubborn; the valerii kindly and courteous; the claudii haughty and ambitious; and many families besides similarly distinguished from one another by their peculiar qualities. these qualities we cannot refer wholly to the _blood_, for that must change as a result of repeated intermarriages, but must ascribe rather to the different training and education given in different families. for much turns on whether a child of tender years hears a thing well or ill spoken of, since this must needs make an impression on him whereby his whole conduct in after life will be influenced. were it otherwise we should not have found the whole family of the claudii moved by the desires and stirred by the passions which titus livius notes in many of them, and more especially in one holding the office of censor, who, when his colleague laid down his magistracy, as the law prescribed, at the end of eighteen months, would not resign, maintaining that he was entitled to hold the office for five years in accordance with the original law by which the censorship was regulated. and although his refusal gave occasion to much controversy, and bred great tumult and disturbance, no means could be found to depose him from his office, which he persisted in retaining in opposition to the will of the entire commons and a majority of the senate. and any who shall read the speech made against him by publius sempronius, tribune of the people, will find therein all the claudian insolence exposed, and will recognize the docility and good temper shown by the body of the citizens in respecting the laws and institutions of their country. chapter xlvii.--_that love of his country should lead a good citizen to forget private wrongs._ while commanding as consul against the samnites, manlius was wounded in a skirmish. his army being thereby endangered, the senate judged it expedient to send papirius cursor as dictator to supply his place. but as it was necessary that the dictator should be nominated by fabius, the other consul, who was with the army in etruria, and as a doubt was felt that he might refuse to nominate papirius, who was his enemy, the senate sent two messengers to entreat him to lay aside private animosity, and make the nomination which the public interest required. moved by love of his country fabius did as he was asked, although by his silence, and by many other signs, he gave it to be known that compliance was distasteful. from his conduct at this juncture all who would be thought good citizens should take example. chapter xlviii.--_that on finding an enemy make what seems a grave blunder, we should suspect some fraud to lurk behind._ the consul having gone to rome to perform certain ceremonial rites, and fulvius being left in charge of the roman army in etruria, the etruscans, to see whether they could not circumvent the new commander, planting an ambush not far from the roman camp, sent forward soldiers disguised as shepherds driving large flocks of sheep so as to pass in sight of the roman army. these pretended shepherds coming close to the wall of his camp, fulvius, marvelling at what appeared to him unaccountable audacity, hit upon a device whereby the artifice of the etruscans was detected and their design defeated. here it seems proper to note that the captain of an army ought not to build on what seems a manifest blunder on the part of an enemy; for as men are unlikely to act with conspicuous want of caution, it will commonly be found that this blunder is cover to a fraud. and yet, so blinded are men's minds by their eagerness for victory, that they look only to what appears on the surface. after defeating the romans on the allia, the gauls, hastening on to rome, found the gates of the city left open and unguarded. but fearing some stratagem, and being unable to believe that the romans could be so foolish and cowardly as to abandon their city, they waited during the whole of that day and the following night outside the gates, without daring to enter. in the year , when the florentines avere engaged in besieging pisa, alfonso del mutolo, a citizen of that town, happening to be taken prisoner, was released on his promise to procure the surrender to the florentines of one of the gates of the city. afterwards, on pretence of arranging for the execution of this surrender, he came repeatedly to confer with those whom the florentine commissaries had deputed to treat with him, coming not secretly but openly, and accompanied by other citizens of pisa, whom he caused to stand aside while he conversed with the florentines. from all which circumstances his duplicity might have been suspected, since, had he meant to do as he had engaged, it was most unlikely that he should be negotiating so openly. but the desire to recover possession of pisa so blinded the florentines that they allowed themselves to be conducted under his guidance to the lucca gate, where, through his treachery, but to their own disgrace, they lost a large number of their men and officers. chapter xlix.--_that a commonwealth to preserve its freedom has constant need of new ordinances. of the services in respect of which quintius fabius received the surname of maximus._ it must happen, as i have already said, in every great city, that disorders needing the care of the physician continually spring up; and the graver these disorders are, the greater will be the skill needed for their treatment. and if ever in any city, most assuredly in rome, we see these disorders assume strange and unexpected shapes. as when it appeared that all the roman wives had conspired to murder their husbands, many of them being found to have actually administered poison, and many others to have drugs in readiness for the purpose. of like nature was the conspiracy of the bacchanals, discovered at the time of the macedonian war, wherein many thousands, both men and women, were implicated, and which, had it not been found out, or had the romans not been accustomed to deal with large bodies of offenders, must have proved perilous for their city. and, indeed, if the greatness of the roman republic were not declared by countless other signs, as well as by the manner in which it caused its laws to be observed, it might be seen in the character of the punishments which it inflicted against wrong-doers. for in vindicating justice, it would not scruple or hesitate to put a whole legion to death, to depopulate an entire city, or send eight or ten thousand men at a time into banishment, subject to the most stringent conditions, which had to be observed, not by one of these exiles only, but by all. as in the case of those soldiers who fought unsuccessfully at cannæ, who were banished to sicily, subject to the condition that they should not harbour in towns, and should all eat standing. but the most formidable of all their punishments was that whereby one man out of every ten in an entire army was chosen by lot to be put to death. for correcting a great body of men no more effectual means could be devised; because, when a multitude have offended and the ringleaders are not known, all cannot be punished, their number being too great; while to punish some only, and leave the rest unpunished, were unjust to those punished and an encouragement to those passed over to offend again. but where you put to death a tenth chosen by lot, where all equally deserve death, he who is punished will blame his unlucky fortune, while he who escapes will be afraid that another time the lot may be his, and for that reason will be careful how he repeats his offence. the poisoners and the bacchanals, therefore, were punished as their crimes deserved. although disorders like these occasion mischievous results in a commonwealth, still they are not fatal, since almost always there is time to correct them. but no time is given in the case of disorders in the state itself, which unless they be treated by some wise citizen, will always bring a city to destruction. from the readiness wherewith the romans conferred the right of citizenship on foreigners, there came to be so many new citizens in rome, and possessed of so large a share of the suffrage, that the government itself began to alter, forsaking those courses which it was accustomed to follow, and growing estranged from the men to whom it had before looked for guidance. which being observed by quintius fabius when censor, he caused all those new citizens to be classed in four _tribes_, that being reduced within this narrow limit they might not have it in their power to corrupt the entire state. and this was a wisely contrived measure, for, without introducing any violent change, it supplied a convenient remedy, and one so acceptable to the republic as to gain for fabius the well-deserved name of maximus. the end. life of thomas paine written purposely to bind with his writings by richard carlile second edition. . life of thomas paine the present memoir is not written as a thing altogether necessary, or what was much wanted, but because it is usual and fitting in all collections of the writings of the same author to accompany them with a brief account of his life; so that the reader might at the same time be furnished with a key to the author's mind, principles, and works, as the best general preface. on such an occasion it does not become the compiler to seek after the adulation of friends, or the slander of enemies; it is equally unnecessary to please or perplex the reader with either; for when an author has passed the bar of nature, it behoves us not to listen to any tales about what he was, or what he did, but to form our judgments of the utility or non-utility of his life, by the writings he has left behind him. our business is with the spirit or immortal part of the man. if his writings be calculated to render him immortal, we have nothing to do with the body that is earthly and corruptible, and which passes away into the common mass of regenerating matter. whilst the man is living, we are justified in prying into his actions to see whether his example corresponds with his precept, but when dead, his writings must stand or fall by the test of reason and its influence on public opinion. the excess of admiration and vituperation has gone forth against the name and memory of the author of "rights of man," and "age of reason," but it shall be the endeavour of the present compiler to steer clear of both, and to draw from the reader an acknowledgement that here the life and character of paine is fairly stated, and that here the enquirer after truth may find that which he most desires--an unvarnished statement. thomas paine was born at thetford, in the county of norfolk, in england, on the th of january, . he received such education as the town could afford him, until he was thirteen years of age, when his father, who was a staymaker, took him upon the shop-board. before his twentieth year, he set out for london to work as a journeyman, and from london to the coast of kent. here he became inflamed with the desire of a trip to sea, and he accordingly served in two privateers, but was prevailed upon by the affectionate remonstrances of his father, who had been bred a quaker, to relinquish the sea-faring life. he then set up as a master stay maker at sandwich, in the county of kent, when he was about twenty-three years of age. it appears that he had a thorough distaste for this trade, and having married the daughter of an exciseman, he soon began to turn his attention to that office. having qualified himself he soon got appointed, but from some unknown cause his commission scarcely exceeded a year. he then filled the office of an usher at two different schools in the suburbs of london, and by his assiduous application to study, and by his regular attendance at certain astronomical and mathematical lectures in london, he became a proficient in those sciences, and from this moment his mind, which was correct and sound, began to expand, and here that lustre began to sparkle, which subsequently burst into a blaze, and gave light both to america and europe. he again obtained an appointment in the excise, and was stationed at lewes, in sussex, and in this town the first known production of his pen was printed and published. he had displayed considerable ability in two or three poetical compositions, and his fame beginning to spread in this neighbourhood, he was selected by the whole body of excisemen to draw up a case in support of a petition they were about to present to parliament for an increase of salary. this task he performed in a most able and satisfactory manner, and although this incident drew forth his first essay at prose composition, it would have done honour to the first literary character in the country; and it did not fail to obtain for mr. paine universal approbation. the "case of the officers of excise" is so temperately stated, the propriety of increasing their salaries, which were then but small, urged with such powerful reasons and striking convictions, that although we might abhor such an inquisitorial system of excise as has long disgraced this country, we cannot fail to admire the arguments and abilities of mr. paine, who was then an exciseman, in an endeavour to increase their salaries. he was evidently the child of nature from the beginning, and the success of his writings was mainly attributable to his never losing sight of this infallible guide. in his recommendation to government to increase the salaries of excisemen, he argues from natural feelings, and shews the absolute necessity of placing a man beyond the reach of want, if honesty be expected in a place of trust, and that the strongest inducement to honesty is to raise the spirit of a man, by enabling and encouraging him to make a respectable appearance. this "case of the officers of excise" procured mr. paine an introduction to oliver goldsmith, with whom he continued on terms of intimacy during his stay in england. his english poetical productions consisted of "the death of wolfe," a song; and the humourous narrative, about "the three justices and farmer short's dog." at least, these two pieces are all that we now have in print. i have concisely stated mr. paine's advance to manhood and fame considering the act but infantile in being elaborate upon the infancy and youth of a public character who displays nothing extraordinary until he reaches manhood. my object here is not to make a volume, but to compress all that is desirable to be known of the author, in as small a compass as possible. mr. paine was twice married, but obtained no children: his first wife he enjoyed but a short time, and his second he never enjoyed at all, as they never cohabited, and before mr. paine left england they separated by mutual consent, and by articles of agreement. mr. paine often said, that he found sufficient cause for this curious incident, but he never divulged the particulars to any person, and, when pressed to the point, he would say that it was nobody's business but his own. in the autumn of , being then out of the excise, he was introduced to the celebrated dr. franklin, then on an embassy to england respecting the dispute with the colonies, and the doctor was so much pleased with mr. paine, that he pointed his attention to america as the best mart for his talents and principles, and gave him letters of recommendation to several friends. mr. paine took his voyage immediately, and reached philadelphia just before christmas. in january he had become acquainted with a mr. aitkin, a bookseller, who it appears started a magazine for the purpose of availing himself of mr. paine's talents. it was called the pennsylvania magazine, and, from our author's abilities, soon obtained a currency that exceeded any other work of the kind in america. many of mr. paine's productions in the papers and magazines of america have never reached this country so as to be republished, but such as we have are extremely beautiful, and compel us to admit, that his literary productions are as admirable for style, as his political and theological are for principle. from his connection with the leading characters at philadelphia, mr. paine immediately took a part in the politics of the colonies, and being a staunch friend to the general freedom and happiness of the human race, he was the first to advise the americans to assert their independence. this he did in his famous pamphlet, intitled "common sense," which for its consequences and rapid effect was the most important production that ever issued from the press. this pamphlet appeared at the commencement of the year , and it electrified the minds of the oppressed americans. they had not ventured to harbour the idea of independence, and they dreaded war so much as to be anxious for reconciliation with britain. one incident which gave a stimulus to the pamphlet "common sense" was, that it happened to appear on the very day that the king of england's speech reached the united states, in which the americans were denounced as rebels and traitors, and in which speech it was asserted to be the right of the legislature of england to bind the colonies in all cases whatsoever! such menace and assertion as this could not fail to kindle the ire of the americans, and "common sense" came forward to touch their feelings with the spirit of independence in the very nick of time. on the th of july, in the same year, the independence of the united states was declared, and paine had then become so much an object of esteem, that he joined the army, and was with it a considerable time. he was the common favourite of all the officers, and every other liberal-minded man, that advocated the independence of his country, and preferred liberty to slavery. it does not appear that paine held any rank in the army, but merely assisted with his advice and presence as a private individual. whilst with the army, he began, in december of the same year, to publish his papers intitled "the crisis." these came out as small pamphlets and appeared in the newspapers, they were written occasionally, as circumstances required. the chief object of these seems to have been to encourage the americans, to stimulate them to exertion in support and defence of their independence, and to rouse their spirits after any little disaster or defeat. those papers, which also bore the signature of common sense, were continued every three or four months until the struggle was over. in the year , mr. paine was called away from the army by an unexpected appointment to fill the office of secretary to the committee for foreign affairs. in this office, as all foreign correspondence passed through his hands, he obtained an insight into the mode of transacting business in the different courts of europe, and imbibed much important information. he did not continue in it above two years, and the circumstance of his resignation seems to have been much to his honour as an honest man. it was in consequence of some peculation discovered to have been committed by one silas deane who had been a commissioner from the united states to some part of europe. the discovery was made by mr. paine, and he immediately published it in the papers, which gave offence to certain members of the congress, and in consequence of some threat of silas deane, the congress shewed a disposition to censure mr. paine without giving him a hearing, who immediately protested against such a proceeding, and resigned his situation. however, he carried no pique with him into his retirement, but was as ardent as ever in the cause of independence and a total separation from britain. he published several plans for an equal system of taxation to enable the congress to recruit the finances and to reinforce the army, and in the most clear and pointed manner, held out to the inhabitants of the united states, the important advantages they would gain by a cheerful contribution towards the exigencies of the times, and at once to make themselves sufficiently formidable, not only to cope with, but to defeat the enemy. he reasoned with them on the impossibility of any army that britain could send against them, being sufficient to conquer the continent of america. he again and again explained to them that nothing but fortitude and exertion was necessary on their part to annihilate in one campaign the forces of britain, and put a stop to the war. it is evident, and admitted on all sides, that these writings of mr. paine became the main spring of action in procuring independence to the united states. notwithstanding the little disagreement he had with the congress, it was ready at the close of the war to acknowledge his services by a grant of three thousand dollars, and he also obtained from the state of new york, the confiscated estate of some slavish lory and royalist, situate at new rochelle. this estate contained three hundred acres of highly, cultivated land, and a large and substantial stone built house. the state of pennsylvania, in which he first published "common sense" and "the crisis," presented him with £ sterling; and the state of virginia had come to an agreement for a liberal grant, but in consequence of mr. paine's interference and resistance to some claim of territory made by that state, in his pamphlet, intitled "public good," he lost this grant by a majority of one vote. this pamphlet is worthy of reading, but for this single circumstance, and nothing can more strongly argue the genuine patriotism and real disinterestedness of the man, than his opposing the claims of this state at a moment when it was about to make him a more liberal grant than any other state had done. it was in the year , that mr. paine resigned his office as secretary to the committee for foreign affairs, and in the year , he was, in conjunction with a colonel laurens, dispatched to france to try to obtain a loan from that government. they succeeded in their object, and returned to america with two millions and a half of livres in silver, and stores to the united value of sixteen millions of livres. this circumstance gave such vigour to the cause of the americans, that they shortly afterwards brought the marquis cornwallis to a capitulation. six millions of livres were a present from france, and ten millions were borrowed from holland on the security of france. in this trip to france, mr. paine not only accomplished the object of his embassy, but he also made a full discovery of the traitorous conduct of silas deane, and, on his return fully justified himself before his fellow citizens, in the steps he had taken in that affair, whilst deane was obliged to shelter himself in england from the punishment due to his crimes. in a number of the crisis, mr. paine says, it was the cause of independence to the united states, that made him an author; by this it has been argued, that he could not have written "the case of the officers of excise" before going to america, but this i consider to be easy of explanation. as the latter pamphlet was published by the subscriptions of the officers of excise, and as it was a mere statement of their case, drawn up at their request and suggestion, mr. paine might hardly consider himself, intitled to the name of author for such a production which had but a momentary and partial object. he might have considered himself as the mere amanueusis of the body of excisemen, and, to have done nothing more than state their complaint and sentiments. it does not appear that the pamphlet was printed for sale, or that the writer ever had, or thought to have, any emolument from it. it must have been in this light that mr. paine declined the character of an author on the account of that pamphlet, for no man need be ashamed to father it either for principle or style. in the same manner might be considered his song "on the death of general wolfe," his "reflections on the death of lord clive," and several other essays and articles that appeared in the pennsylvania magazine, and the different newspapers of america, all of which had obtained celebrity as something superior to the general rank of literature that had appeared in the colonies, and yet even on this ground he also relinquished the title of an author. to be sure, a man who writes a letter to his relatives or friends is an author, but mr. paine thought the word of more import, and did not call himself an author until he saw the benefits he had conferred on his fellow-citizens and mankind at large, by his well-timed "common sense" and "crisis." during the struggle for independence, the abbe raynal, a french author, had written and published what he called a history of the revolution, or reflections on that history, in which he had made some erroneous statements, probably guided by the errors, wilful or accidental, in the european newspapers. mr. paine answered the abbe in a letter, and pointed out all his misstatements, with a hope of correcting the future historian. this letter is remarkably well written, and abounds with brilliant ideas and natural embellishments. ovid's classical and highly admired picture of envy, can scarcely vie with the picture our author has drawn of prejudice in this letter. it will be sure to arrest the reader's attention, therefore i will not mar it by an extract. mr. paine never deviated from the path of nature, and he was unquestionably as bright an ornament as ever our common parent held up to mankind. he studied nature in preference to books, and thought and compared as well as read. the hopes of the british government having been baffled in the expected reduction of the colonies, and being compelled to acknowledge their independence, mr. paine had now leisure to turn to his mechanical and philosophical studies. he was admitted a member of the american philosophical society, and appointed master of arts, by the university of philadelphia, and we find nothing from his pen in the shape of a pamphlet until the year , he then published his "dissertations on governments, the affairs of the bank, and paper money." the object of this pamphlet was to expose the injustice and ingratitude of the congress in withdrawing the charter of incorporation from the american bank, and to show, that it would rather injure than benefit the community. the origin of this bank having been solely for the carrying on of the war with vigour, and to furnish the army with necessary supplies, at a time when the want of food and clothing threatened a mutiny, mr. paine condemned the attempt to suppress it as an act of ingratitude. at a moment when the united states were overwhelmed with a general gloom by repeated losses and disasters, and by want of vigour to oppose the enemy, mr. paine proposed a voluntary contribution to recruit the army, and sent his proposal, and five hundred dollars as a commencement, to his friend mr. m'clenaghan. the proposal was instantly embraced, and such was the spirit by which it was followed, that the congress established the leading subscribers into a bank company, and gave them a charter. this incident might be said to have saved america for that time, and as mr. paine has fairly shown that the bank was highly advantageous to the interest of the united states at the time of its suppression, and that the act proceeded from party spleen, we cannot fail to applaud the spirit of this pamphlet, although it was an attack on the conduct of the congress. it forms another proof that our author never suffered his duty and principle to be biassed by his interest. in the year , mr. paine returned to europe, and first proceeded to paris, where he obtained considerable applause for the construction of a model of an iron bridge which he presented to the academy of sciences. the iron bridge is now becoming general in almost all new erections, and will doubtless, in a few years, supersede the more tedious and expensive method of building bridges with stone. how few are those who walk across the bridge of vauxhall and call to mind that thomas paine was the first to suggest and recommend the use of the iron bridge: he says, that he borrowed the idea of this kind of bridge from seeing a certain species of spider spin its web*! in the mechanical arts mr. paine took great delight, and made considerable progress. in this, as in his political and theological pursuits, to ameliorate the condition, and to add to the comforts, of his fellow men, was his first object and final aim. * the famous iron bridge of one arch at sunderland was the first result of this discovery, although another gentleman claimed the invention and took credit for it with impunity, in consequence of the general prejudice against the name and writings of mr. paine. it is a sufficient attestation of this fact, to say, that the sunderland bridge was cast at the foundery of mr. walker, at rotheram, in 'yorkshire, where mr. paine had made his first experiment on an extensive scale. from paris mr. paine returned to england after an absence of thirteen years, in which time he had lost his father, and found his mother in distress. he hastened to thetford to relieve her, and settled a small weekly sum upon her to make her comfortable. he spent a few weeks in his native town, and wrote the pamphlet, intitled "prospects on the rubicon," &c. at this time, which appears to have been done as much for amusement and pastime as any thing else, as it has no peculiar object, like most of his other writings, and the want of that object is visible throughout the work. it is more of a general subject than paine was in the habit of indulging in, and its publication in england produced but little attraction. france, at this moment, had scarcely begun to indicate her determination to reform her government. england was engaged in the affairs of the stadt-holder of holland; and there seemed a confusion among the principal governments of europe, but no disposition for war. mr. paine having become intimate with mr. walker, a large iron-founder of rotheram, in yorkshire, retired thither for the purpose of trying the experiment of his bridge. the particulars of this experiment, with an explanation of its success, the reader will find fully developed in his letter to sir george staunton. this letter was sent to the society of arts in the adelphi, and was about to be printed in their transactions, but the appearance of the first part of "rights of man," put a stop to its publication in that shape, and afforded us a lesson that bigotry and prejudice form a woeful bar to science and improvement. for the expence of this bridge mr. paine had drawn considerable sums from a mr. whiteside, an american merchant, on the security of his american property, but this mr. whiteside becoming a bankrupt, mr. paine was suddenly arrested by his assignees, but soon liberated by two other american merchants becoming his bail, until he could make arrangements for the necessary remittances from america. during the american war, mr. paine had felt a strong; desire to come privately into england, and publish a pamphlet on the real state of the war, and display to the people of england the atrocities of that cause they were so blinded to support. he had an impression that this step would have more effect to stop the bloody career of the english government, than all he could write in america, and transmit to the english newspapers. it was with difficulty that his friends got him to abandon this idea, and after he had succeeded in obtaining the loan from the french government, he proposed to colonel laurens to return alone, and let him go to england for this purpose. the colonel, however, positively refused to return without him, and in this purpose he was overcome by the force of friendship. still the same idea lingered in his bosom after the americans had won their independence. mr. paine loved his country and countrymen, and was anxious to assist them in reforming their government. the attack which mr. burke made upon the french revolution soon gave him an opportunity of doing this, and the production of "rights of man" will ever rank mr. paine among the first and best of writers on political economy. the friend and companion of washington and franklin could not fail to obtain an introduction to the leading political characters in england, such as burke, horne tooke, and the most celebrated persons of that day. burke had been the opponent of the english government during the american war, and was admired as the advocate of constitutional freedom. pitt, the most insidious and most destructive man that ever swayed the affairs of england, saw the necessity of tampering with burke, and found him venal. it was agreed between them that burke should receive a pension in a fictitious name, but outwardly continue his former character, the better to learn the dispositions of the leaders in the opposition, as to the principles they might imbibe from the american revolution, and the approaching revolution in france. this was the master-piece of pitt's policy, he bought up all the talent that was opposed to his measures, but instead of requiring a direct support, he made such persons continue as spies on their former associates, and thus was not only informed of all that was passing, but, by his agents, was enabled to stifle every measure that was calculated to affect him, by interposing the advice of his bribed opponents and pseudo-patriots. it was thus mr. paine was drawn into the company of burke, and even a correspondence with him on the affairs of france; and it was not until pitt saw the necessity of availing himself of the avowed apostacy of burke, and of getting him to make a violent attack upon the french revolution, that mr. paine discovered his mistake in the man. it is beyond question that burke's attack on the french revolution had a most powerful effect in this country, and kindled a hatred without shewing a cause for it, but still, as honest principle will always outlive treachery, it drew forth from mr. paine his "rights of man" which will stand as a lesson to all people in all future generations whose government might require reformation. vice can triumph but for a moment, whilst the triumph of virtue is perpetual. the laws of england have been a great bar to the propagation of sound principles and useful lessons on government, for whatever might have been the disposition and abilities of authors, they have been compelled to limit that disposition and those abilities to the disposition and abilities of the publisher. thus it has been difficult for a bold and honest man to find a bold and honest publisher; even in the present day it continues to be the same, and the only effectual way of going to work is, for every author to turn printer and publisher as well. without this measure every good work has to be mangled according to the humour of the publisher employed. it was thus mr. paine found great difficulty in procuring a publisher even for his first part of "rights of man." it was thus the great and good major cartwright found it necessary during the suspension of the habeas corpus to take a shop and sell his own pamphlets. i do not mean to say that there is a fault in publishers, the fault lays elsewhere, for it is well known that as soon as a man finds himself within the walls of a gaol for any patriotic act, those outside trouble themselves but little about him. it is the want of a due encouragement which the nation should bestow on all useful and persecuted publishers. i may be told that this last observation has a selfish appearance, but let the general statement be first contradicted, then i will plead guilty to selfish views. mr. paine would not allow any man to make any the least alteration or even correction in his writings. he carried this disposition so far as to refuse a friend to correct an avowed grammatical error. he would say that he only wished to be known as what he really was, without being decked with the plumes of another. i admire and follow this part of his principles, as well as most of his others, and i hold the act to be furtive and criminal, where one man prunes, mangles, and alters the writings of another. it is a vicious forgery, and merits punishment. if a man durst not publish the whole of the writings of another, he had far better leave them altogether, until another more bold and honest shall be found to undertake the task. every curtailment must tend to misrepresent; and whatever may be the motive, the act is dishonest. mr. paine had been particularly intimate with burke, and i have seen an original letter of burke to a friend, wherein he expressed the high gratification and pleasure he felt at having dined at the duke of portland's with thomas paine the great political writer of the united states, and the author of "common sense." whether the english ministers had formed any idea or desire to corrupt paine by inviting him to their tables, it is difficult to say, but not improbable; one thing is certain, that, if ever they had formed the wish, they were foiled in their design, for the price of £ , which chapman, the printer of the second part of "rights of man," offered mr. paine for his copyright, is a proof that he was incorruptible on this score. mr. paine was evidently much pleased with his intimacy with burke, for it appears he took considerable pains to furnish him with all the correspondence possible on the affairs of france, little thinking that he was cherishing a viper, and a man that would hand those documents over to the minister; but such was the case, until mr. burke was compelled to display his apostacy in the house of commons, and to bid his former associates beware of him. mr. paine promised the friends of the french revolution, that he would answer burke's pamphlet, as soon as he saw it; and it would be difficult to say, whether burke's "reflections on the french revolution," or paine's "rights of man," had the more extensive circulation. one thing we know, burke's book is buried with him, whilst "rights of man," stitl blazes and obtains an extensive circulation yearly, since it has been republished. its principles will be co-existent with the human race, and the more they are known the more will they be admired. nature assisted by reason form their base: the only stable foundation on which the welfare of mankind can be erected. i have circulated near copies since november, . the publication of "rights of man," formed as great an era in the politics of england, as "common sense" had done in america: the difference is only this, the latter had an opportunity of being acted upon instantly, whilst the former has had to encounter corruption and persecution; but that it will finally form the base of the english government, i have neither fear or doubt. its principles are so self-evident, that they flash conviction on the most unwilling mind that gives the work a calm perusal. the first part of "rights of man" passed unnoticed, as to prosecution, neither did burke venture a reply. the proper principles of government, where the welfare of the community is the object of that government, as the case should always be, are so correctly and forcibly laid down in "rights of man," that the book will stand, as long as the english language is spoken, as a monument of political wisdom and integrity. it should be observed, that mr. paine never sought profit from his writings, and when he found that "rights of man" had obtained a peculiar attraction he gave up the copyright to whomsoever would print it, although he had had so high a price offered for it. he would always say that they were works of principle, written solely to ameliorate the condition of mankind, and as soon as published they were common property to any one that thought proper to circulate them. i do not concur in the propriety of mr. paine's conduct on this occasion, because, as he was the author, he might as well have put the author's profit into his pocket, as to let the bookseller pocket the profit of both. his pamphlets were never sold the cheaper for his neglecting to take his profit as an author; but, it is now evident that mr. paine, by neglecting that affluence which he might have honestly and honourably possessed, deprived himself in the last dozen years of his life of the power of doing much good. it is not to be denied that property is the stamina of action and influence, and is looked up to by the mass of mankind in preference to principle in poverty. but there comes another danger and objection, that is, that the holders of much property are but seldom found to trouble themselves about principle. their principle seldom goes a step beyond profession. but where principle and property unite, the individual becomes a host. the first part of "rights of man," has not that methodical arrangement which is to be found in the second part, but an apology arises for it, mr. paine had to tread the "wilderness of rhapsodies," that burke had prepared for him. the part is, however, interspersed with such delightful ornaments, and such immutable principles, that the path does not become tedious. perhaps no other volume whatever has so well defined the causes of the french revolution, and the advantages that would have arisen from it had france been free from the corrupting influence of foreign powers. but i must recollect that my business here is to sketch the life of mr. paine, i wish to avoid any thing in the shape of quotation from his writings, as i am of opinion, that the reader will glean their beauties from the proper source with more satisfaction; and no life of paine that can be compiled will ever express half so much of the man, as his own writings, as a whole, speak for themselves, and almost seem to say "_the hand that made us is divine_." after some difficulty a publisher was found for "rights of man" in mr. jordan, late of , fleet street the first part appeared on the th of march, , and the second part on the th of february in the following year. the government was paralyzed at the rapid sale of the first part, and the appearance of the second. the attempt to purchase having failed, the agents of the government next set to work to ridicule it, and to call it a contemptible work. whig and tory members in both houses of parliament affected to sneer at it, and to laud our glorious constitution as a something impregnable to the assaults of such a book. however, whig and tory members had just began to be known, and their affected contempt of "rights of man," served but as advertisements, and greatly accelerated its sale. in the month of may, , the king issued his proclamation, and the king's devil his ex officio information, on the very same day, against "rights of man." this in some measure impeded its sale, or occasioned it to be sold in a private manner; through which means it is impossible to give effectual circulation to any publication. one part of the community is afraid to sell and another afraid to purchase under such conditions. it is not too much to say, that if "rights of man" had obtained two or three years free circulation in england and scotland, it would have produced a similar effect to what "common sense" did in the united states of america. the french revolution had set the people of england and scotland to think, and "rights of man" was just the book to furnish materials for thinking. about this time he also wrote his "letter to the addressers," and several letters to the chairmen of different county meetings, at which those addresses were voted. mr. paine had resolved to defend the publication of "rights of man" in person, but in the month of september, a deputation from the inhabitants of calais waited upon him to say, that they had elected him their deputy to the national convention of france. this was an affair of more importance than supporting "rights of man," before a political judge and a packed jury, and, accordingly, mr. paine set off for france with the deputation, but not without being exposed to much insult at dover; where the government spies had apprised the custom house officers of his arrival, and some of those spies were present to overhaul all his papers. it was said, that mr. paine had scarcely embarked twenty minutes before a warrant came to dover, from the home department to arrest him. be this as it may, mr. paine had more important scenes allotted to him. on reaching the opposite shore the name of paine was no sooner announced than the beach was crowded;-all the soldiers on duty were drawn up; the officer of the guard embraced him on landing, and presented him with the national cockade, which a handsome young woman, who was standing by, begged the honour of fixing in his hat, and returned it to him, expressing a hope that he would continue his exertions in the behalf of liberty, france, and the rights of man. a salute was then fired from the battery; to announce the arrival of their new representative. this ceremony being over, he walked to deisseiu's, in the rue de l'egalite (formerly rue de roi), the men, women, and children crowding around him, and calling out "vive thomas paine!" he was then conducted to the town hall, and there presented to the municipality, who with the greatest affection embraced their representative. the mayor addressed him in a short speech, which was interpreted to him by his friend and conductor, m. audibert, to which mr. paine laying his hand on his heart, replied, that his life should be devoted to their service. at the inn, he was waited upon by the different persons in authority, and by the president of the constitutional society, who desired he would attend their meeting of that night: he cheerfully complied with the request, and the whole town would have been there, had there been room: the hall of the '_minimes_' was so crowded that it was with the greatest difficulty they made way for mr. paine to the side of the president. over the chair he sat in, was placed the bust of mirabeau, and the colours of france, england, and america united. a speaker acquainted him from the tribune with his election, amidst the plaudits of the people. for some minutes after this ceremony, nothing was heard but "vive la nation! vive thomas paine" in voices male and female. on the following day, an extra meeting was appointed to be held in the church in honour of their new deputy to the convention, the _minimes_ being found quite suffocating from the vast concourse of people which had assembled on the previous occasion. a play was performed at the theatre on the evening after his arrival, and a box was specifically reserved "for the author of 'rights of man,' the object of the english proclamation." mr. paine was likewise elected as deputy for abbeville, beauvais, and versailles, as well as for the department of calais, but the latter having been the first in their choice, he preferred being their representative. on reaching paris, mr. paine addressed a letter to the english attorney general, apprizing him of the circumstances of his departure from england, and hinting to him, that any further prosecution of "rights of man," would form a proof that the author was not altogether the object, but the book, and the people of england who should approve its sentiments. a hint was also thrown out that the events of france ought to form a lesson to the english government, on its attempt to arrest the progress of correct principles and wholesome truths. this letter was in some measure due to the attorney general, as mr. paine had written to him in england on the commencement of the prosecution assuring him, that he should defend the work in person. notwithstanding the departure of mr. paine, as a member of the french national convention, the information against "rights of man" was laid before a jury, on the d of december in the same year, and the government, and its agents, were obliged to content themselves with outlawing mr. paine, and punishing him, in effigy, throughout the country! many a faggot have i gathered in my youth to burn old tom paine! in the west of england, his name became quite a substitute for that of guy faux. prejudice, so aptly termed by mr. paine, the spider of the mind, was never before carried to such a height against any other individual; and what will future ages think of the corrupt influence of the english government at the close of the eighteenth century, when it could excite the rancour of a majority of the nation against such a man as thomas paine! we now find mr. paine engaged in new and still more important scenes. his first effort as a member of the national convention, was to lay the basis of a self-renovating constitution, and to repair the defects of that which had been previously adopted: but a circumstance very soon occurred, which baffled all his good intentions, and brought him to a narrow escape from the guillotine. it was his humane and strenuous opposition to the putting louis the xvith to death. the famous or infamous manifesto issued by the duke of brunswick, in july , had roused such a. spirit of hatred towards the royal family of france, and all other royal families, that nothing short of their utter destruction could appease the majority of the french nation. mr. paine willingly voted for the trial of louis as a necessary exposure of court intrigue and corruption; but when he found a disposition to destroy him at once, in preference to banishment, he exposed the safety of his own person in his endeavour to save the life of louis. mr. paine was perfectly a humane man, he deprecated the punishment of death on any occasion whatever. his object was to destroy the monarchy, but not the man who had filled the office of monarch. the following anecdote is another unparalleled instance of humanity, and the moral precept of returning good for evil. mr. paine happened to be dining one day with about twenty friends at a coffee house in the palais egalité, now the palais royal, when unfortunately for the harmony of the company, a captain in the english service contrived to introduce himself as one of the party. the military gentleman was a strenuous supporter of what is called in england, the constitution in church and state, and a decided enemy of the french revolution. after the cloth was drawn, the conversation chiefly turned on the state of affairs in england, and the means which had been adopted by the government to check the increase of political knowledge. mr. paine delivered his opinions very freely, and much to the satisfaction of every one present, with the exception of captain grimstone, who returned his arguments by calling him a traitor to his country, with a variety of terms equally opprobrious. mr. paine treated his abuse with much good humour, which rendered the captain so furious, that he walked up to the part of the room where mr. paine was sitting, and struck him a violent blow, which nearly knocked him off his seat. the cowardice of this behaviour from a stout young man towards a person of mr. paine's age (he being then upwards of sixty) is not the least disgraceful part of the transaction. there was, however, no time for reflections of this sort; an alarm was instantly given, that the captain had struck a citizen deputy of the convention, which was considered an insult to the nation at large; the offender was hurried into custody, and it was with the greatest difficulty that mr. paine prevented him from being executed on the spot. it ought to be observed, that an act of the convention had awarded the punishment of death to any one who should be convicted of striking a deputy; mr. paine was therefore placed in a very unpleasant situation. he immediately applied to barrere, at that time president of the committee of public safety, for a passport for his imprudent adversary, who after much hesitation complied with his request. it likewise occasioned mr. paine considerable personal inconvenience to procure his liberation; but even this was not sufficient; the captain was without friends, and pennyless, and mr. paine generously supplied him with money to defray his travelling expences. louis fell under the guillotine, and mr. paine's deprecation of that act brought down upon him the hatred of the whole robespierrean party. the reign of terror now commenced in france; every public man who breathed a sigh for louis was denounced a traitor to the nation, and as such was put to death. every man who complained of the despotism and violence of the party in power, was hurried to a prison, or before the revolutionary tribunal and to immediate execution. mr. paine, although a member of the convention, was first excluded on the ground of being a foreigner, and then thrown into prison because he had been born in england! his place of confinement was the luxembourg; the time, about eleven months, during which he was seized with a most violent fever, that rendered him insensible to all that was passing, and to which circumstance he attributes his escape from the guillotine. about this period mr. paine wrote his first and second part of age of reason. the first part was written before he went to the luxembourg, as in his passage thither he deposited the manuscript with joel barlow. the second part he wrote during his confinement, and at a moment when he could not calculate on the preservation of his life for twenty-four hours: a circumstance which forms the best proof of his sincerity, and his conviction of the fallacy and imposture of all established religions: throughout this work he has also trod the path of nature, and has laid down some of the best arguments to shew the existence of an omnipotent being, that ever were penned. those who are in the habit of running down every thing that does not tally with their antiquated opinions, or the prejudices in which they have been educated, have decried mr. paine as an atheist! of all the men who ever wrote, mr. paine was the most remote from atheism, and has advanced stronger arguments against the belief of no god, than any who have gone before him, or have lived since. if there be any chance of the failure of mr. paine's theological writings as a standard work, it will be on the ground of their being more superstitious than otherwise. however, their beauties, i doubt not, will at all times be a sufficient apology for a few trifling defects. mr. paine has been taxed with inconsistency in his theological opinions, because in his "common sense," and other political writings, he has had recourse to bible phrases and arguments to illustrate some of his positions. but this can be no proof of hypocrisy, because his "common sense" and his other political writings were intended as a vehicle for political principles only, and they were addressed to the most superstitious people in the world. if mr. paine had published any of his deistical opinions in "common sense" or "the crisis," he would have defeated the very purpose for which he wrote. the bible is a most convenient book to afford precedents; and any man might support any opinion or any assertion by quotations from it, mr. paine tells us in his first crisis that he has no superstition about him, which was a pretty broad hint of what his opinions on that score were at that time, but it would have been the height of madness to have urged any religious dissension among the inhabitants of the united states during their hostile struggle for independence. such is not a time to think about making converts to religious opinions. mr. paine has certainly made use of the common hack term, "christian this" and "christian that," in many parts of his political writings; but let it be recollected to whom he addressed himself, and the object he had in view, before a charge of' inconsistency be made. he first published his age of reason in france, where all compulsive systems of religion had been abolished, and here, certainly, he cannot be charged with being a disturber of religious opinions, because his work was translated and re-printed in the english language. he could have no objection to see it published in england, but it was by no means his own act, and he has expressly stated that he wrote it for the french nation and the united states. but truth will not be confined to a nation, nor to a continent, and there can never be an inconsistency proceeding from wrong to right, although there must naturally be a change. after the fall of robespierre and his faction, and the arrival of mr. monroe, a new minister from america, mr. paine was liberated from his most painful imprisonment, and again solicited to take his seat in the convention, which he accordingly did. again his utmost efforts were used to establish a constitution on correct principles and universal liberty, united with security both for person and property. he wrote his "dissertation on first principles of government," and presented it to the convention, accompanied with a speech, pointing out the defects of the then existing constitution. intrigue is the natural characteristic of frenchmen, and they never appeared to relish any thing in the shape of purity or simplicity of principle. their intrigue being always attended with an impetuosity, has been aptly compared by voltaire to the joint qualities of the monkey and the tiger. of all countries on the face of the earth, perhaps france was the least qualified to receive a pure republican government. the french nation had been so long dazzled with the false splendours of its grand monarch, that a court seemed the only atmosphere in which the real character of frenchmen could display itself. at least, the court had assimilated the character of the whole nation to itself. the french revolution was altogether financial, and not the effect of good triumphing over bad principles. at various periods the people assumed various attitudes, but they were by no means prepared for a republican form of government. political information had made no progress among the mass of the people, as is the case in britain at this moment. there were but few frenchmen amongst the literate part of the community who had any notion of a representative system of government. the united states had scarcely presented any thing like correct representation, and the boasted constitution of england is altogether a mockery of representation. the people of england have no more direct influence over the legislature than the horses or asses of england. mr. paine saw this, both in france and england, and, at the same time, saw the necessity of inculcating correct notions of government through all classes of the community. he struggled in vain during his own lifetime, but the seed of his principles has taken root, and is now beginning to shoot forth. france, by a series of successful battles with the monarchs of europe, began to assume a military character-the very soul of frenchmen, but the bane of republicanism. hence arose a buonaparte, and hence the fall of france, and the restoration of the hated bourbons. after buonaparte had usurped the sovereign power, and every thing in the shape of a representative system of government had subsided, mr. paine led quite a retired life, saw but little company, and for many years brooded over the misfortunes of france, and the advantages it had thrown away, by anticipating its present disgrace. he saw plainly that all the benefits which the revolution ought to have preserved, would be foiled by the military ambition of buonaparte. he would not allow the epithet republic to be applied to it, without condemning such an association of ideas, and insisted upon it, that the united states of america was alone, of all the governments on the face of the earth, entitled to that honourable appellation. in this retirement mr. paine wrote two small pamphlets of considerable interest: the one was his "agrarian justice opposed to agrarian law and agrarian monopoly;" the other was his "decline and fall of the english system of finance," the first was a plan for creating a fund in all societies to give a certain sum of money to all young people about to enter into life, and live by their own industry, and to make a provision for all old persons, or such as were past labour, so that their old age might be spent serenely and comfortably. the idea was evidently the offspring of humanity and benevolence: of its practicability i cannot speak; here, as nothing but experience could prove it. his "decline and fall of the english system of finance," is of more immediate importance, as no one of his pamphlets has displayed the acuteness, the foresight, and the ability of mr. paine, as a political economist, more than this. we can now speak most feelingly on this subject as this is the moment at which all his financial and funding system predictions are about to be fulfilled. talk of jewish prophets, or christian prophets! look at this little pamphlet, and here you will find a prophet indeed! no imposter but a real prophet! a prophet who preferred common sense to divine inspiration. a prophet who stood not in need of any holy ghost to instruct him, but who prophesied from reason and natural circumstances. mr. cobbett has made this little pamphlet a text book, for most of his elaborate treatises, on our finances, and funding systems. this pamphlet was written in the year , one year before the bank refused to pay its notes in gold. this latter circumstance, has in some measure had the effect of lengthening the existence of the funding system, although its occurrence was previously foretold by mr. paine, as one of the natural consequences of that system. on the authority of a late register of mr. cobbett's, i learn that the profits arising from the sale of this pamphlet, were devoted to the relief of the prisoners confined in newgate for debt. mr. paine, found it impossible to do any good in france, and he sighed for the shores of america. the english cruizers prevented his passing during the war; but immediately after the peace of amiens he embarked and reached his adopted country. before i follow him to america, i should notice his attack on george washington. it is evident from all the writings of mr. paine that he lived in the closest intimacy with washington up to the time of his quitting america in , and it further appears, that they corresponded up to the time of mr. paine's imprisonment in the luxembourg. but here a fatal breach took place. washington having been the nominal commander-in-chief during the struggle for independence, obtained much celebrity, not for his exertions during that struggle, but in laying down all command and authority immediately on its close, and in retiring to private life, instead of assuming any thing like authority or dictation in the government of the united states, which his former situation would have enabled him to do if he had chosen. this was a circumstance only to be paralleled during the purest periods of the roman and grecian republics, and this circumstance obtained for washington a fame to which his generalship could not aspire. mr. paine says, that the disposition of washington was apathy itself, and that nothing could kindle a fire in his bosom-neither friendship, fame, or country. this might in some measure account for the relinquishment of all authority, at a time when he might have held it, and, on the other hand, should have moderated the tone of mr. paine in complaining of washington's neglect of himself whilst confined in france. the apathy which was made a sufficient excuse for the one case, should have also formed a sufficient excuse for the other. this was certainly a defect in mr. paine's career as a political character. he might have attacked the conduct of john adams, who was a mortal foe to paine and all republicanism and purity of principle, and who found the apathy and indifference of washington a sufficient cloak and opportunity to enable him to carry on every species of court and monarchical intrigue in the character of vice-president. i will, however, state this case more simply. during the imprisonment of mr. paine in the luxembourg, and under the reign of robespierre, washington was president of the united states, and john adams was vice-president. john adams was altogether a puerile character, and totally unfit for any part of a republican government. he openly avowed his attachment to the monarchical system of government: he made an open proposition to make the presidency of the united states hereditary in the family of washington, although the latter had no children of his own; and even ran into an intrigue and correspondence with the court and ministry of england, on the subject of his diabolical purposes. all this intelligence burst upon paine immediately on his liberation from a dreadful imprisonment, and at a moment when the neglect of the american government had nearly cost him his life. it was this which drew forth this virulent letter against washington. the slightest interference of washington would have saved paine from several months unjust and unnecessary imprisonment, for there was not the least charge against him, further than being born an englishman; although he had actually been outlawed in that country for supporting the cause of france and of mankind! if all the charges which mr. paine has brought against washington be true, and some of them are too palpable to be doubted, his character has been much overrated, and mr. paine has either lost sight of his duty in the arms of friendship, by giving washington too much applause, or he has suffered an irritated feeling to overcome his prudence by a contradictory and violent attack. the letter written by mr. paine from france to mr. washington stands rather as a contrast to his former expressions, but he who reads the whole of mr. paine's writings can best judge for himself. some little change might have taken place in the disposition of each of those persons towards the close of life, but i will not allow for a moment that paine ever swerved in political integrity and principle. this letter seems to stand rather as a blur in a collection of mr. paine's writings, and every reader will, no doubt, exercise his right to form his own opinion between paine and washington. i am of opinion, that one paine is worth a thousand washingtons in point of utility to mankind. we must now follow mr. paine to america, and here we find him still combating every thing in the shape of corruption, of which no small portion seems to have crept into the management of the affairs of the united states. he now carried on a paper war with the persons who called themselves federalists; a faction which seems to have been leagued for no other purpose but to corrupt and to appropriate to their own use the fruits of their corruption. mr. paine published various letters and essays on the state of affairs, and on various other subjects, after his return to america, the whole of which convince us that he never lost an iota of his mental and intellectual faculties, although he was exposed to much bodily disease and lingering pain. he found a very different disposition in the united states on his return to what he had left there, when he first went to france. fanaticism had made rapid strides, and to a great portion of the inhabitants mr. paine's theological writings were a dreadful sore. he had also to combat the washington and john adams party, who were both his bitter enemies, so that instead of retiring to the united states to enjoy repose in the decline of life, he found himself molested by venomous creatures on all sides. his pen, however, continued an overmatch for the whole brood, and his last essay will be read by the lover of liberty with the same satisfaction as the first. mr. paine was exposed to many personal annoyances by the fanatics of the united states, and it may not be amiss to state here a few anecdotes on this head. on passing through baltimore he was accosted by the preacher of a new sect called the new jerusalemites. "you are mr. paine," said the preacher. "yes."-"my name is hargrove, sir; i am minister of the new jerusalem church here. we, sir, explain the scripture in its true meaning. the key has been lost above four thousand years, and we have found it."--"then," said mr. paine in his usual sarcastic manner, "it must have been very rusty." at another time, whilst residing in the house of a mr. jarvis, in the city of new york, an old lady, habited in a scarlet cloak, knocked at the door, and inquired for thomas paine. mr. jarvis told her he was asleep. "i am very sorry for that," she said, "for i want to see him very particularly." mr. jarvis having some feeling for the age and the earnestness of the old lady, took her into mr. paine's bed room and waked him. he arose upon one elbow, and with a stedfast look at the old lady, which induced her to retreat a step or two, asked her, "what do you want?"-"is your name paine?"--"yes."-"well, then, i am come from almighty god to tell you, that if you do not repent of your sins, and believe in our blessed saviour, jesus christ, you will be damned, and----" "poh, poh, it is not true. you were not sent with any such impertinent message. jarvis, make her go away. pshaw, he would not send such a foolish ugly old woman as you are about with his messages. go away, go back, shut the door." the old lady raised her hands and walked away in mute astonishment. another instance of the kind happened about a fortnight before his death. two priests, of the name of milledollar and cunningham, came to him, and the latter introduced himself and his companion in the following words, "mr. paine, we visit you as friends and neighbours. you have now a full view of death: you cannot live long, and 'whosoever does not believe in jesus christ will assuredly be damned.'"-"let me," replied mr. paine, "have none of your popish stuff. get away with you. good morning, good morning." mr. milledollar attempted to address him, but he was interrupted with the same language. a few days after those same priests had the impudence to come again, but the nurse was afraid to admit them. even the doctor who attended him in his last minutes took the latest possible opportunity to ask him, "do you wish to believe that jesus christ is the son of god?" to which mr. paine replied, "i have no wish to believe on the subject." these were his last words, for he died the following morning about nine o'clock, about nine hours after the doctor had left him. mr. paine, over and above what might have been expected of him, seemed much concerned about what spot his body should be laid in some time before his death. he requested permission to be interred in the quaker's burial ground, saying that they were the most moral and upright sect of christians; but this was peremptorily refused to him in his life-time, and gave him much uneasiness, or such as might not have been expected from such a man. on this refusal he ordered his body to be interred on his own farm, and a stone placed over it with the following inscription: thomas paine, author of common sense, died june , , aged years and five months. little did mr. paine think when giving this instruction, that the peter porcupine who had heaped so much abuse upon him, beyond that of all other persons put together (for porcupine was the only scribbling opponent that mr. paine ever deigned to mention by name) little did he think that this peter porcupine, in the person of william cobbett, should have become his second self in the political world, and should have so far renounced his former opinions and principles as to resent the indifference paid to paine by the majority of the inhabitants of the united states, and actually remove his bones to england. i consider this mark of respect and honest indignation, as an ample apology for all the abuse helped upon the name and character of paine by mr. cobbett. it is a volume of retractation, more ample and more convincing than his energetic pen could have produced. for my own part whilst we have his writings, i should have felt indifferent as to what became of his bones; but there was an open retractation due from mr. cobbett to the people of britain, for his former abuse of paine, and i for one am quite content with the apology made. i shall now close this memoir, and should the reader think the sketch insufficient, i would say to him that mr. paine's own writings will fill up the deficiency, as he was an actor as well as a writer in all the subjects on which he has treated. wherever i have lightly touched an incident, the works themselves display the _minutiæ_, and when the reader has gone through the memoir, and the works too, he will say, "i am satisfied." r. carlile, dorchester gaol, may , . advertisement. this little memoir of mr. paine was written purposely to accompany a new edition of his political works, lately published by r. carlile, and whilst it was in the press, it occurred to him that it would be desirable as a pamphlet to those persons who had made a previous purchase of those works. accordingly lie worked off of them, and found that they were all sold in a few weeks, without a single advertisement beyond "the republican." it has now been out of print for above three months, and finding a constant, and increasing demand for them, he has been induced to make a few corrections and some slight additions, and to print a second edition. brief as the number of its pages must appear, for so interesting a character, the compiler feels assured that it will be deemed sufficient by all persons who may possess mr paine's writings, for whose satisfaction it was solely written, thomas paine the apostle of liberty an address delivered in chicago, january , . including the testimony of five hundred witnesses. by john e. remsburg president of american secular union "this effort to right the wrongs of thomas paine is, in my opinion, a service to mankind."--andrew d. white, ll.d., first president of cornell university, minister to russia, and ambassador to germany. in memory of thomas "clio" rickman, william cobbett, gilbert vale, horace seaver, robert g. ingersoll, moncure d. conway, thaddeus b. wakeman and eugene m. macdonald, noble defenders while living of the much maligned dead, this appreciation of our nation's founder and the world's greatest apostle of liberty is reverently inscribed. thomas paine, the apostle of liberty. from time immemorial men have observed the natal days of their gods and heroes. a few weeks ago christians celebrated the birthday of a god. we come to celebrate the birthday of a man. within the brief space of twenty-five days occur the anniversaries of the births of the three most remarkable men that have appeared on this continent--paine, washington and lincoln--the creator, the defender and the savior of our republic. to do honor to the memory of the first of these--to acknowledge our indebtedness to him as a patriot and philosopher, and to extol his virtues as a man--have we assembled here. we come the more willingly and our exercises will be characterized by a deeper earnestness because the one whose merits we celebrate has been the victim of almost infinite injustice. in the popular mind to utter a word in his behalf has been to apologize for wrong--to declare yourself the friend of paine has been to declare yourself the enemy of man. the world is not prepared to do him full justice yet. priestcraft, still powerful, uses all its power to prejudice the public mind against him and in too many hearts, where love and gratitude should dwell, ingratitude and hatred have their home. there are those who will condemn this meeting in his name today and some of you may spurn the blossoms i have culled to place upon his tomb. but is it a crime to defend the dead? has the court of death issued an injunction restraining us from pleading the cause of the departed? we defend from the assaults of calumny the fair fame of the living, and not more sacred are the reputations of the living than of the absent dead whose voiceless lips can utter no defense. the lips of thomas paine have long been dumb; but mine are not, and while i live i shall defend him. as rizpah stood by the bodies of her murdered sons, keeping back the birds of prey, so will i stand by the memory of this good man and drive back the foul vultures that feast their greedy selves and feed their starving broods on dead men's characters. on the th of january, , at thetford, england, thomas paine was born. he was of quaker parentage. like nearly all of earth's illustrious sons, he was of humble origin. at an early age he left the paternal roof and began alone life's struggle,--serving in the british navy, teaching in london, engaging in mercantile pursuits, and performing the duties of exciseman. while in london he formed the acquaintance of the learned franklin, who induced him to cross the ocean and cast his lot with the people of the new world. he comes to america toward the close of . a year of quiet observation enables him to grasp the situation here. he sees thirteen feeble colonies struggling against a powerful monarchy; he sees a tyrant whom the world styles "king" trampling the fair form of liberty beneath his feet; he sees his subjects crouching and cringing before the throne, pleading in vain for a redress of wrongs. separation and independence have not yet been proposed. it is true that lexington, and concord, and bunker hill have passed into history; it is true that patrick henry, james otis, john hancock, and the adamses have fearlessly denounced the odious measures of the british ministry; yet up to the very close of , not a voice has been raised in favor of independence. a redress of grievances is all that the boldest have demanded. but the current of history is to be turned. rebellion is to be changed to revolution. with the firm belief that right will triumph, paine marshals the legions of thought that spring from his prolific brain and on the first of january, , moves in solid columns against this citadel of tyranny. the shock is irresistible. the solid masonry gives way, and falls before his fierce assault. into the breach thus made an eager people rush, and on the ruins plant the unsoiled banner of a new republic. that the fourth of july, , would not have witnessed the declaration of independence but for the timely appearance of paine's "common sense," no candid student of history will for a moment question. this book first suggested american independence; in this book appeared, for the first time, "the free and independent states of america." nor did paine's labors end with the publication of this work. he was the inspiring genius of the long war that followed. when washington's little army was hurled from long island, when despondency filled every heart, and all seemed lost, paine came to the rescue with the first number of his "crisis," in which were couched those thrilling words, "these are the times that try men's souls." his pamphlet, by orders of the commander-in-chief, was read at the head of each regiment. it was also sent broadcast over the land. the effect was magical; into the dispirited ranks is breathed new life, and in the minds of the people planted a determination never to give up the struggle. at critical periods during the war number after number of this brave work appeared until, at last, he could triumphantly say, "the times that tried men's souls are over, and the greatest and completest revolution the world ever knew, gloriously and happily accomplished." the pen of paine was as mighty as the sword of washington. "common sense" was the glorious sun that evolved a new political world; each number of the "crisis" a brilliant satellite that helped to illumine this new world's long night of revolution. in the old world liberty remained, as it still remains to a large extent, yet to be wearisomely achieved. in france the people were struggling against a corrupt and oppressive government. paine enlisted his services in the cause of freedom there. he advocated a republic, and organized the first republican society in france. but louis was permitted to resume his reign, and tranquility having been for a brief season restored, paine went to his native england, where, in reply to burke's "reflections on the french revolution," appeared his "rights of man." with a desperation characteristic of the detected robber the government suppressed his work; but not until it had kindled a fire in europe which tyrants have not yet succeeded in extinguishing and in the glare of whose unquenchable flames may be read the doom of monarchy. the storms of revolution bursting forth afresh, paine again repaired to france. a joyous reception awaited his arrival at calais. as his vessel entered the harbor a hundred cannon thundered "welcome!" as he stepped upon the shore a thousand voices shouted "_vive_ thomas paine!" bright flowers fell in showers around him; fair hands placed in his hat the national cockade. an immense meeting assembled in his honor. over the chair he sat in was placed the bust of mirabeau with the colors of france, england and america united. all france was ready to honor her defender. three departments, the oise, the pas-de-calais, and the puy-de-dome, each chose him for its representative. he accepted the honor from calais and proceeded to paris. his entry into the french capital was a triumphal one. he was received as a hero,--an intellectual hero who on the field of mental combat had vanquished europe's most brilliant champion of monarchy, and vindicated before the tribunal of the world mankind's eternal rights. he took his seat in the national convention. a stupendous task devolved upon this body--the formation of a new constitution for republican france. its most illustrious statesmen and its wisest legislators must be chosen to prepare it. a committee of nine was named: thomas paine, danton, condorcet, brissot, barrere, vergniaud, petion, gensonne, and the abbe sieyes. to paine and condorcet chiefly was the work of drafting it assigned by their colleagues. then came the trial of louis xvi and the beginning of those turbulent scenes which culminated in the reign of terror. the convention was clamoring for blood. paine had been one of the foremost in overthrowing the monarchy. he believed the king to have been tyrannical,--to have been the pliant tool of a corrupt nobility, and of a still more corrupt priesthood. but he did not deem him deserving of death, nor did he believe that the best interests of france would be subserved by such harsh measures. but the terrorists threatened with vengeance all who should dare to oppose them. to plead the cause of the king might be to share his fate. a vote by any member in favor of saving his life might bring an overwhelming vote against that member's own life. they had resolved that the king should die, and led by such men as robespierre and marat, there were assembled the most determined and the most dangerous men of france. the galleries, too, were filled with an excited mob of fifteen hundred--many of them hired assassins, fresh from the september massacre. "we vote," protested lanjuinais when the balloting commenced, "under the daggers and the cannon of the factions." in this perilous position what course would paine pursue? would he, like others, quietly acquiesce in these unjust proceedings? he had never yet faltered in his purpose of pursuing what he deemed the right. would he shrink from danger now? no! above the wild storm of that enraged assembly, through his interpreter, rose the voice of this brave man in powerful, eloquent appeals in behalf of mercy. "destroy the king," in effect, he said, "but save the man! strike the crown, but spare the heart!" he pleads in vain; the king must die. "death within four-and-twenty hours," is the decree. amid the insults and execrations of a frenzied mob louis is torn from the arms of his queen and children and hurried to the scaffold. the mountain has triumphed. the jacobins, infuriated by the taste of a king's blood, will next devour their fellow-members. the girondins, the heart and brains of france, are expelled from the convention, dragged to prison and to the guillotine. paine's plea for mercy can not be forgiven. he is imprisoned; sentence of death is finally pronounced against him; the hour for his execution, with that of his fellow-prisoners, is set. fortuitously he escapes. in summoning the victims for execution he is overlooked. soon after, and before the mistake is discovered, the bloody robespierre is overthrown, and his own neck receives the blow he meant for paine. the fall of robespierre stems the crimson torrent and, in time, secures for paine his freedom. his imprisonment has lasted nearly a year, a year never to be forgotten, a year of chaos, from which is to arise a fairer and a better france. let us contemplate, for a moment, this bloody and protracted drama. let us, in imagination, visit this death-stricken paris. buildings--once palaces--have been transformed into prisons. thousands are crowded within their walls; beings of both sexes, and of every age and rank; grayhaired men who look with stolid indifference upon the scenes around them; youth, pale with fear; heroic types of manhood pacing to and fro with all the bearing of conquerors; frail women, whose swollen eyes, those tear-stained windows of the soul, faintly reveal the heart's fierce agony within! the scene is changed. all is bustle and confusion. a morbid and excited crowd is gathering; the death tumbrils go rumbling by toward the place de la revolution; the groans of men, the shrieks of women, rend the air and throw a shade of sadness over all deeper than midnight's gloom. again the scene shifts. the bustle is over now; the crowd has dispersed; those shrieks and groans are hushed. but that huge pile of headless trunks; the headsman's sack; those pools of blood; that blood-stained instrument, to whose edge still cling the straggling hairs of its victims, the golden threads of youth mingled with the silver threads of age, these remain--grim fragments of the feast where this french saturn made his last repast. day after day this carnival of death goes on. danton, brissot, and many more of the best men of france are butchered; roland and condorcet die by their own hands; talleyrand is a refugee in america, and lafayette pines in the dungeon vaults of austria. many noble women, too, are sacrificed. marie antoinette follows her louis to the scaffold. in the conciergerie, companions for a time, are held captive two of the purest and noblest of women,--the lovely and amiable josephine beauhamais, destined to become napoleon's queen, and the beautiful and gifted madame roland, whose innocent blood must wet the cruel knife of the guillotine. such was the french revolution,--"a mighty truth clad in hell-fire,"--the bloodiest, and yet the brightest page in the history of france. it might have been a bloodless one, it might have been a brighter one, had the wise and moderate counsels of thomas paine prevailed. in the shadow of death the crowning effort of his life, the "age of reason," was composed. his pen had given kingcraft a mortal hurt; priestcraft must be destroyed. this book has filled die orthodox world with terror. around it has raged one of the fiercest intellectual conflicts of the age. all the artillery of christendom has been brought to bear upon it; but without effect. firm, impregnable, like some gibraltar, it still stands unharmed. bowed with the weight of sixty-six years paine returned to america. here the evening of his life was passed,--embittered by a world's ingratitude. "men never know their saviors when they come." the apostle of liberty, of mercy, and of truth, became successively a martyr to each. for espousing the cause of liberty england declared him an outlaw; for advocating mercy france gave him a prison; and for proclaiming the truth america placed upon his aged head the cruel crown of thorns. but death came at last and brought relief to the persecuted sage. on a bright june morning (june ), in , the end came. yes, death came. but with it came no fears. no banished hagar with famishing infant haunted him; from the desolate ruins of those midianite homes came no phantoms to strike his soul with terror; no uriah's ghost stood before his bedside and would not down; the hand that with no weapon but the pen had made priests and monarchs tremble, now growing cold and pallid, was not stained with the blood of a wile or child; no agonizing shrieks of a burning servetus rang in his dying ears. tempestuous as life's voyage had been, the old man readied his port in peace. nature, whom he had deified, fondly and pityingly held him in her all-embracing arms, and soothed him in that last sad hour as with a mother's love. the morning sun looked kindly down and kissed his throbbing temples; gentle breezes, fragrant with the odors of a thousand roses, fanned his fevered brow; joyous birds, whose songs he loved so well, came to his window and sang their cheeriest notes; while faithful friends were at his bedside, ministering to every want. and so, bravely and peacefully, with that serenity of soul which only the conscious of a well-spent life can give, the grand old patriot passed away. thus have i briefly traced the public career of thomas paine,--a career in which his steadfast devotion to manly principles ranks him with the world's worthiest heroes. his private life was not less honorable. in his moral nature were united the noblest traits that adorn the human character. his philanthrophy was bounded only by the limits of the world in which he lived jew and mohammedan, christian and infidel, caucasian and mongolian, the despised negro and the rude indian, all to him were brothers. his charity was of the broadest kind. he was ever ready to share his last dollar or his last comfort with the poor and distressed, and this regardless as to whether they were friends or foes. when his republican friend, bonneville, was crushed and impoverished by napoleon, paine gave to his family an asylum in america, and willed to them a part of his estate. when a brutal english officer assaulted him in paris--and to strike a deputy the penalty was death--he saved him from the guillotine, and finding him penniless, from his own purse paid his passage home to england. his patriotism was never questioned. many have won the name of patriot whose services to their country have been inspired by mere selfish motives; but with him, fame, wealth, comfort, all were sacrificed for his country's welfare. throughout that eight year's struggle, his life, his time, his talents, all were at her service. and, whether serving as aid-de-camp to general greene in that terrible campaign of ' ; filling with ability the important post of secretary to the committee on foreign affairs; with laurens at the french court negotiating loans for his government; or cheering the despondent and nerving them up to deeds of valor,--he was at all times, and in every situation, the same modest, magnanimous, unflinching patriot. in his disinterestedness he stands alone. at the beginning of the revolutionary struggle he was a poor author, lacking at times even the bare necessities of life. but he had the opportunity of becoming rich. the enormous sale of "common sense" would of itself have secured for him a handsome competence. but what did he do? did he secure for himself the profits to which he was justly entitled? no! he presented to each of the thirteen colonies the copyright, and came out indebted to his printer for the original edition. when his country languished for want of funds to pay her soldiers in the field he started a subscription that brought her more than a million, heading it with five hundred dollars, and limited his gift to this because he had no more to give. when his "rights of man" was ready for the press he refused one thousand pounds for the copyright and then gave it to the world. moral courage was another prominent element in this great man's character. his espousal of the cause of american independence--a cause which no other man had up to that time dared to espouse--shows a lofty heroism; his attack upon monarchy, in the very capital of a monarchical government, knowing, as he must have known, that every effort would be made to crush him, was a grand exhibition of moral bravery, while his publication of the "age of reason" was, in many respects, a more courageous act than either. but it was in his heroic defense of louis xvi that his moral courage shone with all the lustre of the sun. search all the annals of the past and say if on the historian's page is found one act, one single act, surpassing in moral sublimity that of thomas paine accepting a prison and, if need be, death, to save a fallen foe! in the expression of his religious opinions no man has been more frank or explicit, while no man's religious opinions have been more grossly misrepresented. what was his belief? "i believe in one god and no more; and i hope for happiness beyond this life. "i believe in the equality of man; and i believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy. "the world is my country, to do good my religion." this was his creed; and with a firm belief in the truth and justice of this creed he lived and died. there are, i regret to say, many good people who believe that thomas paine was a very bad man. they have heard this from the lips of those in whose veracity they place implicit confidence. while from infancy they have been taught to regard jesus christ as the mediator between man and god, they have been led to consider thomas paine as a sort of negotiator between the devil and man. now, let me ask these people, do you know why thomas paine has been so bitterly assailed? you have heard various charges preferred against him; but seriously, do you believe any of the charges named sufficient to account for the intense, the bitter hatred that has been manifested toward him? have you never been impressed with the thought that there might be something back of all this, some secret grudge which your informants dare not mention? let us notice briefly the faults and vices imputed to him. you have been told that he was a pauper, that he died in wretchedness and want. those who told you this were certainly mistaken. the estate presented to him by new york, in consideration of his revolutionary services, was valued at $ , , and the greater portion of this was remaining at his death. it is true that during his long and useful career he was many times in straitened circumstances; but this was the result, not of improvidence, or reckless expenditure, but of the devotion of his life to the cause of humanity instead of the accumulation of wealth. but what if he had died poor? is poverty a crime? yes, were this true, is it a thing of which to boast, that in a christian city, within the sound of forty church-bells, an old man was suffered to lie neglected and alone, racked by the pangs of hunger and disease, piteously pleading for a crust of bread, or a cup of cold water to cool his parched and fevered tongue; and do you mean to tell us that christian charity the while stood by unmoved, mocked his sufferings, and damned him when he died? you have been told that he was a drunkard. a baser slander was never uttered. no human being ever saw thomas paine intoxicated. he was one of the most temperate of men. all of his neighbors and acquaintances indignantly denied the truth of this imputation. gilbert vale tells us that he knew more than twenty persons who were intimately acquainted with him and not one of whom ever saw him intoxicated. the proprietor of the house in new york, a respectable inn at which paine boarded in his later years, says that of all his guests he was the most temperate. but supposing that he was a drunkard. is drunkenness so rare as to secure for its victims an immortal notoriety? are there no living drunkards for these omnivorous creatures to devour, that, like hyenas, they must dig into a drunkard's grave to fill their empty maws? you have been told by the clergy that his writings are immoral. i defy those who make this charge to point to one immoral sentence in all that he has written. they cannot; and i further affirm that they dare not permit you to examine his writings and ascertain for yourselves the truth or falsity of this assertion. you who have never read his works may believe that they contain much that is bad. you may imagine that a deadly serpent lurks within them. let me assure you that there is nothing in them that can harm you. the highest moral tone pervades their pages. they are full of charity, they glow with patriotism, they are warm with love. even yet, within their lids methinks i feel the beating of the generous heart of him who penned them, every throb marking an aspiration for the welfare of his fellow-men. but admitting, for the sake of argument, that his writings are immoral. does not the world teem with immoral literature? are there not hundreds of immoral writers even among the living? if so, why has all this wrath been concentrated upon paine to the almost total exclusion of the rest? you have been told that he was an infidel. infidel to what? in the christian sense of this term he was. but what peculiar significance do your informants attach to this fact? are not three fourths of the world's inhabitants infidels? do not the greatest scholars of the age go far beyond him in infidelity? earth's wisest sons--those who have contributed most to the wealth of science, and literature, and statesmanship, have been these so-called infidels. yet paine has been denounced as if he were the only infidel that ever lived. you have been told that he recanted on his deathbed. in other words, that he lived a hypocrite; that he only feigned infidelity for the sake of being persecuted. a very plausible reason, surely. but this statement has been widely circulated, and that, too, in spite of the fact that every person who was with him during his dying hours pronounced it false,--those who sat by his bedside and heard every word that fell from his lips. it has ever been the custom of the church to make every distinguished individual appear as an endorser of her dogmas. see those insolent priests haunting the death chamber of voltaire; see the crucifix thrust into the hands of the dying litre and the dead sherman; see the frantic efforts made to convince the world that lincoln changed his religious views and died a christian. an honest quaker who visited paine daily during his last illness testified to having been offered money to publicly state that he recanted. but he refused. others were doubtless approached in the same manner, and with the same result. unable to find a deathbed witness base enough to make so foul a charge, the calumny was originated by one who did not see him die. a christian's brain conceived and bore that infamous falsehood; and black and hideous as the offspring was, nearly every orthodox clergyman was ready to serve it in the capacity of a faithful nurse. and in these nurses' arms it lived and died. only a little while ago i saw one of them hugging to his breast and endeavoring to resuscitate with holy breath the putrid corpse of this dead lie! but supposing that he did recant, that he acknowledged the divinity of christ. if he did this he died in the christian faith. now does the church treat deathbed penitents in the manner in which paine has been treated? has not every criminal that has repented in his last hours, from the dying thief of nineteen hundred years ago to the last murderer sent to heaven, been held up as an object of admiration? why, then, denounce paine for having, as they claim, renounced his infidelity? o consistency, thou art, indeed, a jewel! and now, assuming all these charges to be true, he would still have been naught but a poor, drunken infidel; and while this would have subjected him to much harsh criticism while living, it would have been merely of a local character, and would have ceased when he was no more. death would have silenced censure, the mantle of charity would have been spread above his grave, and the waves of oblivion would have rolled over his memory long ago. is it possible that all christendom would have been so deeply agitated, that the walls of her churches would have echoed every week with the fierce anathemas thundered from a thousand pulpits against the inanimate dust of a poor, drunken infidel! the conclusion, i think, must irresistibly force itself upon your minds that these reputed faults do not constitute the real head and front of thomas paine's offending. there must be something else. what is it? would you have the mystery solved? if so, read his, "age of reason." read it carefully, thoughtfully, critically; read it with your bibles open before you; read it in connection with the ablest refutations that have been attempted against it. do this, and the mystery will be solved. you will then know why thomas paine has been so bitterly assailed. two champions meet in the arena of debate. one of them, is overwhelmed. smiles and groans announce his discomfiture, while shouts of applause reward the triumph of his rival. then one of them grows angry, and stung with madness, drops the sword of argument and seizes in its stead the bludgeon of malice with which to assail his adversary. but which one does this, the successful or the defeated antagonist? i have somewhere read that "the bird that soars on pinions strong and free and is not hit by the marksman's bullet is not discomposed'"--that "_it is the wounded bird that flutters!_" that thomas paine was not the poor, drunken, immoral wretch that priestly virulence represents him to have been, is dearly shown by the esteem in which he was held by those who knew him best. would dr. franklin have retained the friendship of a poor, drunken, immoral wretch? would lord erskine have defended against the government of england, a poor, drunken, immoral wretch? would bishop watson have crossed swords in theological disputation with a poor, drunken, immoral wretch? would napoleon bonaparte, when in the zenith of his fame, have invited to his table a poor, drunken, immoral wretch? would france's greatest women, roland and de stael, have stooped to pay the tribute of praise to a poor, drunken, immoral wretch? would president jefferson have offered a national ship to bear to his home a poor, drunken, immoral wretch? would washington have acknowledged as one of the most potent factors in achieving american independence, the pen of a poor, drunken, immoral wretch? would the congress of the united states and the national convention of france have bestowed gifts and conferred, honors upon a poor, drunken, immoral wretch? impossible! every fact connected with his public life refutes these charges made against his private character. in support of the claims that i have made for thomas paine, in refutation of the calumnies that have been circulated against him, i bring the testimony of more than _five hundred witnesses_--those who by intimate acquaintance, or a careful study of his life, are qualified to give a just estimate of his character and works,--historians, biographers, encyclopedists, statesmen, divines, and others; men and women who have acquired an honorable distinction in the various walks of life, and whose names alone are a sufficient guarantee that what they testify shall be the truth. from the dead and from the living--from two continents--i summon them: "common sense" and the american revolution. dr. joseph b. ladd: "immortal paine! whose pen, surprised we saw, could fashion empires while it kindled awe. "when first with awful front to crush her foes, all bright in glittering arms, columbia rose, from thee our sons the generous mandate took, as if from heaven some oracle had spoke; and when thy pen revealed the grand design, 'twas done--columbia's liberty was thine." w. c. braun: "from the brain of thomas paine columbia sprang full panoplied, like minerva from the brain of jupiter." "paine was the prophet of american destiny."--_george jacob holyoake_. "thomas paine is one of those men who most contributed to the establishment of a republic in america."--_abbe sieyes_. century dictionary: "took a prominent part in support of the american revolution." "a principal actor in the american revolution."--_m. thiers, president third republic of france_. john clark ridpath, ll. d.: "the morning star of the revolution." hon. william willett: "the first champion of american liberty." blackie's modern cyclopedia (england): "one of the founders of american independence." "the apostle of american independence."--_m. de lamartine._ william cobbett: "i saw paine first pointing the way and then leading a nation through perils and difficulties of all sorts to independence and to lasting liberty, prosperity and greatness." "paine was the first voice in america that was imperial."--_george w. foote_. theodore roosevelt: "thomas paine, the famous author of 'common sense.'" edmund burke: "that celebrated pamphlet which prepared the minds of the people for independence." egerton ryerson, ll. d.: "the sudden and marvelous revolution in the american mind was produced chiefly by a pamphlet." george bancroft: "franklin encouraged thomas paine,... who was the master of a singularly lucid and fascinating style, to write an appeal to the people of america." "with a soul kindled into one steady blaze, he plies that fast-moving quill. that quill puts down words on paper, words that shall burn into the brains of kings like arrows winged with fire and pointed with vitriol. go on, brave author, sitting in your garret alone at this dead hour, go on, on through the silent hours, on and god's blessings fall like breezes of june upon your damp brow, on and on, for you are writing the thoughts of a nation into birth."--_george lippard_. pennsylvania journal (january , ): "this day was published and is now selling by robert bell, in third street, price two shillings, 'common sense addressed to the inhabitants of north america.'" from this book came the world's first and greatest republic, the first realization of a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. eloquently he pleads for separation and independence: "the birthday of a new world is at hand." "everything that is right or natural pleads for separation. the blood of the slain, the weeping voice of nature cries, 'tis time to part." "the independence of america should have been considered as dating its era from, and published by, the first musket that was fired against her." "o ye that love mankind! ye that dare oppose, not only the tyranny, but the tyrant, stand forth! every spot of the old world is overrun with oppression. freedom hath been hunted round the globe. asia and africa have long expelled her. europe regards her like a stranger and england hath given her warning to depart. o receive the fugitive, and prepare in time an asylum for mankind." benjamin franklin: "a pamphlet that had prodigious effects." justin winsor: "it was printed and reprinted in philadelphia in english and once in german, and in the same year reprinted in salem, newbury-port, providence, boston, newport, new york, charleston, and also in london and edinburgh." rev. ashbel green, d. d, (chaplain to congress): "the pamphlet had a greater run than any other ever published in our country." william massey, m. p.: "'common sense' had an immense circulation." francis bowen, a. m.: "it had an enormous sale." historians' history of the world: "more than one hundred thousand copies of his 'common sense' were sold in a short time." prof. john fiske: "more than a hundred thousand copies were speedily sold, and it carried conviction wherever it went." salmonsen's conversationslexicon: "it had an immense sale ( , copies) and exerted an enormous influence." samuel m. jackson, d.d., ll.d.: "'common sense' ( , copies were sold in the first three months) struck the keynote of the situation by advocating independence and a republican form of government." (referring to the sale of "common sense," paine's biographer, dr. moncure d. conway, says: "in the end probably half a million copies were sold.") eben greenough scott: "it was a plea for independence and a continental government." best of the world's classics: "in this work paine advocated complete separation from england." nordisk familjebok konversationslexicon: "he as boldly as convincingly sh owed the necessity of the colonies tearing themselves away from england." rev. charles e. little: "his 'common sense' was widely circulated and greatly aided the revolution by showing the importance and necessity of seeking independence." robert bissett, ll. d.: "'common sense,' published [written] by thomas paine, afterwards so famous in europe, contributed very much to the ratification of the independence of america." john frost, ll.d.: "it demonstrated the necessity, advantages, and practicability of independence." dr. george weber: "written in an eminently popular style it had an immense circulation, and was of great service in preparing the minds of the people for independence." henry howard brownell: "the book was extensively circulated, and exercised, beyond question, a most powerful influence." robert mackenzie: "his treatise had, for those days, a vast circulation and an extraordinary influence." oscar fay adams: "his famous pamphlet 'common sense' was of great service to the americans." eva m. tappan: "its clear and logical arguments were a power in bringing on the war." d. h. montgomery: "paine boldly said that the time had come for a 'final separation' from england, and that 'arms must decide the contest.'" rev. john schroeder, d.d.: "'common sense,' from the pen of thomas paine, produced a wonderful effect in the different colonies in favor of independence." woodrow wilson: "pamphlets which argued with slow and sober power gave place to pamphlets which rang with passionate appeals: which thrust constitutional argument upon one side and spoke flatly for independence. one such took precedence of all others, whether for boldness or for power, the extraordinary pamphlet which thomas paine, but the other day come out of england as if upon mere adventure, gave to the world as 'common sense.'" american reference library: "'common sense,' more than any other single writing furnished the logical basis of independence." "'common sense' first formulated the demand for independence."--the _nation_ (london). benson j. lossing, ll.d.: "it was the earliest and most powerful appeal in behalf of independence, and probably did more to fix that idea firmly in the public mind than any other instrumentality." richard hildreth: "it argued in that plain and convincing style for which paine was so distinguished." edmund randolph: "a style hitherto unknown on this side of the atlantic." charles kendall adams, ll.d: "a work which had great influence on the colonists." "the success and influence of this publication was extraordinary, and it won for him the friendship of washington, franklin and other distinguished american leaders."--_chambers' encyclopedia_. j. franklin jameson, ll.d.: "'common sense'... exerted a profound impression." john t. morse, jr.: "thomas paine had sent 'common sense' abroad among the people and had stirred them profoundly." lord stanhope: "that publication had produced a strong effect." rev. abiel holmes, d.d., ll.d.: "'common sense', written by thomas paine, produced great effect." john howard hinton: "'common sense' from the popular pen of thomas paine produced a wonderful effect in the different colonies in favor of independence." dr. david ramsey: "in union with the feelings and sentiments of the people it produced surprising effects." rev. george e. ellis, d.d.: "of mighty cogency in its tone and substance, was that vigorous work of thomas paine." rev. jesse a. spencer, d.d.: "the style, manner and matter of his pamphlet were calculated to rouse all the energies of human nature." william grimshaw: "'common sense' roused the public feeling to a degree unequalled by any previous appeal." hand book of american revolution: "it affected sensibly the current of political feeling." barnes's centenary history: "it produced a profound impression." "the clear and powerful style of paine made a prodigious impression on the american people."--_thomas gaspey_. charles morris: "its stirring tones filled all minds with the thirst for liberty." nouvelle biographie generale (france): "the pamphlet produced a prodigious effect." "the success of this writing of paine," says the italian patriot and historian, charles botta, "cannot be described." w. h. bartlett: "this pamphlet produced an indescribable sensation." john andrews, ll.d.: "it was received with vast applause." timothy pitkins: "'common sense' produced a wonderful effect in the different colonies in favor of independence." rev. william gordon: "nothing could have been better timed than this performance." boston gazette (april , ): "had the spirit of prophecy directed the birth of a publication it could not have fallen on a more fortunate period than the time in which 'common sense' made its appearance." "in the elements of its strength it was precisely fitted to the hour, to the spot and to the passions."--_prof. moses coit tyler_. melville m. bigelow: "no pamphlet was so timely, none had such an effect." prof. c. a. van tyne: "it was a firebrand which set aflame the ready political material in america." "every living man in america in who could read, read 'common sense.'... this book was the arsenal to which colonists went for their mental weapons."--_theodore parker_. mrs. robert burns peattie: "men, women and children read it. it was for them an education." c. w. a. veditz, ll.b.: "the work of paine became the text book of the new era." sydney g. fisher: "its phrases became household words on the lips of every man in the patriot party." henry w. edson: "its concise, simple and unanswerable style won thousands to the cause." edward channing: "it was read and debated in smithy and shop and converted thousands." henry eldridge bourne and elbert jay benton: "much that paine wrote was so simple, so convincing, such 'common sense,' that thousands read it and concluded that separation was necessary." william cullen bryant and sydney howard gay: "everybody read it and nearly everybody was influenced by it." pennsylvania evening post (march , ): "'common sense' hath made independents of the majority of the country." almon's remembrancer ( ): "'common sense' is read by all ranks; and as many as read, so many become converted." "'common sense' has converted thousands to independence who could not endure the idea before." (where two or more paragraphs of testimony follow the name of a witness, all of the testimony cited, unless otherwise credited, belongs to the witness named.) william robinson (to nathan hafle, feb. , ): "upon my word, it is well done.... i confess a perusal of it has much reformed my notions." joseph hawley (to elbridge gerry, feb. , ): "i have read the pamphlet entitled 'common sense, addressed to the inhabitants of america.' and every sentiment has sunk into my well-prepared heart." "by private letters which i have lately received from virginia, i find that 'common sense' is working a powerful change there in the minds of many men."--_george washington_. rev. john drayton: "colonel gadsden (having brought the first copy of paine's pamphlet 'common sense') boldly declared himself [in the provincial congress at charleston, feb. , ] for the absolute independence of america. this last sentiment came like an explosion of thunder on the members." bitterly as the colonists opposed the tyranny of the english government there were no manifestations of disloyalty. if they harbored the thought of separation and independence no tongue or pen had dared to give expression to it. referring to this period hon. alexander h. stephens says: "neither did livingston, nor washington, nor any of the prominent leaders in the cause of the colonists at that time look to anything but a redress of grievances. none were looking to a final separation and independence." "when i first took command of the army," says washington, "i abhorred the idea of independence." when admonished that continued resistance to the crown might lead to separation, he replied: "if you ever hear of me joining in any such measures you have my leave to set me down for everything wicked." while paine was writing his "common sense," jefferson, the reputed author of the declaration of independence, wrote that he was "looking with fondness toward a reconciliation with great britain." but a little while before franklin had assured lord chatham that "he had never heard in america an expression in favor of independence." virginia, the province of washington and jefferson, declared in favor of "a redress of grievances, and not a revolution of government." in november, , the assembly of pennsylvania, franklin's province, elected a delegation to the continental congress with these instructions: "though the british parliament and administration have compelled us to resist their violence by force of arms, yet we strictly enjoin that you dissent from and utterly reject any proposition, should such be made, that may cause or lead to a separation from the mother country." "among them all not one had been stirred by that splendid dream of a new nation, a nation independent and free. there was but one mind and only one that had grasped the great plan. there was one voice crying in the wilderness. there was one herald of the dawn, one that did not hesitate in that night of hesitancy and reluctancy."--_dr. j. e. roberts_. dr. david ramsay, a prominent leader in the continental congress and a popular historian of the revolution, describing the effects of "common sense," says: "though that measure [separation] a few months before was not only foreign to their wishes, but the object of their abhorrence, the current suddenly became so strong in its favor that it bore down all before it." prof. moses coit tyler: "in one sentiment all persons, tories and whigs, seemed perfectly to agree, viz., in abhorrence of the project of separation from the empire. suddenly, however, and within a period of less than six months [chiefly as a result of paine's pamphlet] the majority of the whigs turned completely around, and openly declared for independence." "thomas paine brought to the study of the american revolution a mind... quick to see into things, and marvelous in its power of stating them with lucidity, with liveliness and with incisive force." it is generally supposed that the writing of "common sense" with its advocacy of separation and independence was suggested by franklin. it was not; franklin knew nothing of its existence prior to its publication. what he suggested was a history of colonial affairs which he believed would convince the world that the grievances of the colonists against the mother country were just. paine's own account of the origin of this work is as follows: "in october, , dr. franklin proposed giving me such materials as were in his hands towards completing a history of the present transactions, and seemed desirous of having the first volume out the next spring.. i had then formed the outlines of 'common sense,' and finished nearly the first part; and as i supposed the doctor's design in getting out a history was to open the new year with a new system, i expected to surprise him with a production on that subject much earlier than he thought of; and without informing him of what i was doing, got it ready for the press as fast as i conveniently could, and sent him the first pamphlet that was printed off." regarding the originality of his revolutionary ideas, "appleton's cyclopedia of american biography" says: "beyond doubt washington, franklin, and all other prominent men of the revolutionary period gave paine the sole credit for everything that came from his pen." washington, franklin and jefferson were among paine's earliest converts. franklin gave his book his immediate approval, and jefferson's endorsement soon followed. washington, writing to joseph reed in the same month that it was published, acknowledged its "sound doctrine and unanswerable reasoning," and declared for separation. "jefferson, washington and franklin, who up to that time [publication of 'common sense'] had denounced even the thought of independence,... all changed front, and soon, not a majority, but the effective part of the people, followed."--_t. b. wakeman_. "washington, now converted, wrote to his friends in praise of 'common sense'... jefferson, john adams, franklin, madison, all the great statesmen of the time, wrote praisefully of paine's 'flaming arguments.'"--_ella wheeler wilcox_. "leaders in the new york provincial congress considered the advisability of answering it but came to the conclusion that it was unanswerable."--_encyclopedia britannica._ an unknown writer of charleston, s. c. (feb. , ): "who is the author of 'common sense'? i can hardly refrain from adoring him. he deserves a statue of gold." abigail adams: "i am charmed with the sentiments of 'common sense,' and wonder how an honest heart, one who wishes the welfare of his country and the happiness of posterity, can hesitate one moment at adopting them." "'common sense,' like a ray of revelation, has come in season to clear our doubts and fix our choice." john winthrop: "if congress should adopt its sentiments it would satisfy the people." "the public mind was now fully educated to accept the doctrine of independence.... thomas paine's celebrated pamphlet 'common sense' had sapped the foundation of any remaining loyalty to the british crown."--_john clark ridpath, ll. d_. prof. alexander johnston: "thomas paine turned the scale by the publication of his pamphlet 'common sense'." richard frothingham: "the great question which it treated was now discussed at every fireside; and the favorite toast at every dinner table was; 'may the independent principles of 'common sense' be confirmed throughout the united colonies.'" henry clay watson: "'common sense' effected a complete revolution in the feelings and sentiments of the great mass of the people." rev. jedediah morse. "the change of the public mind on this occasion is without a parallel." dr. benjamin rush: "'common sense' burst from the press with an effect which has rarely been produced by types and paper in any age or country." hon. salma hale: "the effect of the pamphlet in making converts was astonishing, and is probably without precedent in the annals of literature." james cheetham (paine's basest calumniator): "speaking a language which the colonists had felt but not thought, its popularity, terrible in its consequences to the parent country, was unexampled in the history of the press." general charles lee: "have you [washington] seen the pamphlet 'common sense'? i never saw such a masterly irresistible performance." "he burst forth on the world like jove in thunder." harper's encyclopedia of united states history: "its trumpet tones awakened the continent, and made every patriot's heart beat with intense emotion." j. dorman steele, ph. d.: "every line glowed with the spirit of liberty, and men's hearts were thrilled as they read." larned's ready reference history: "a more effective popular appeal never went to the bosoms of a nation.... its effect was instantaneous and tremendous." henry cabot lodge: "the pamphlet marked an epoch, was a very memorable production; from the time of its publication the tide flowing in the direction of independence began to race with devouring swiftness to high water mark." encyclopedia britannica ( th ed.)--"there is a complete concurrence of testimony that paine's pamphlet issued on the first of january, , was a turning point in the struggle, that it roused and consolidated public feeling, and swept waverers along with the tide." prof. goldwin smith: "colonial resolution had been screwed to the sticking point by tom paine, the stormy petrel of three countries, with his pamphlet 'common sense.'" dr. e. benjamin andrews: "most potent of all as a cause of the resolution to separate was thomas paine's pamphlet 'common sense'." "no writing ever more instantly swung men to its humor."--_woodrow wilson_. mary l. booth: "this eloquent production severed the last link that bound the colonies to the mother country." mary howitt: "the cause of independence took as it were a definite form from this moment." guilliam tell poussin: "it rendered the sentiment of independence national." "the notion of a new state, wholly free from great britain, first found full and convincing expression in paine's 'common sense'."--_london times_. gen. william a. stokes: "when 'common sense' was published a great blow was struck. it was felt from new england to the carolinas; it resounded throughout the world." the sympathy and assistance of liberty-loving europeans contributed much to the success of the revolution, and this was due largely to the influence of paine's "common sense," which was printed in nearly every tongue and read in nearly every country of continental europe. even in england thousands of copies were circulated, and the american party, the party of chatham, fox and burke, was greatly strengthened, while the influence of the king and his ministry was correspondingly weakened by the effect of its masterly arguments. lord erskine: "in that great and calamitous conflict, edmund burke and thomas paine fought in the same field together, but with very different success. mr. burke spoke to a parliament in england, such as sir george saville describes it, having no ears but for sounds that flattered its corruptions. mr. paine, on the other hand, spoke to the people, reasoned with them, told them they were bound by no subjection to any sovereignty further than their own benefit connected them, and, by these powerful arguments, prepared the minds of the american people for that glorious, just, and happy revolution." marquis de chastelleaux: "since my arrival in america i had not yet seen mr. paine, that author so celebrated in america and throughout europe by his excellent work entitled 'common sense.' lafayette and myself had asked the permission of an interview, and we waited on him accordingly with col. laurens.... his patriotism and his talents are unquestionable." w. e. h. lecky: "paine's 'common sense'... was translated into french, and was, if possible, even more popular in france than in america." "the work ran through innumerable editions in america and france. the world rang with it."--_hon. henry s. randall_. silas deane: "'common sense' has been translated, and has had a greater run here [in france] than in america. a person of distinction, writing to his noble friend in office, has these words: 'i think, with you, my dear count, that "common sense" is an excellent work, and that its author is one of the greatest legislators among the million writers that we know.'" sir george trevelyan: "it would be difficult to name any human composition which has had an effect at once so instant, so extended, and so lasting. it flew through numberless editions. it was pirated, and parodied, and imitated, and translated into the language of every country where the new republic had well-wishers, and could hope to procure allies.... it was reprinted in all the colonies with a frequency surprising at a time when colonial printing houses were very few. three months from its first appearance, a hundred and twenty thousand copies had been sold in america alone; and, before the demand ceased, it was calculated that half a million had seen the light." "paine saw beyond precedents and statutes, and constitutional facts or fictions, into the depths of human nature; and he knew that, if men are to fight to the death, it must be for reasons which all can understand." john adams: "'common sense' was received in france and in all europe with rapture." "history is to ascribe the revolution to thomas paine." (letter to thomas jefferson). john quincy adams: "paine's 'common sense' crystalized public opinion and was the first factor in bringing about the revolution." samuel adams: "your 'common sense'... unquestionably awakened the public mind, and led the people loudly to call for a declaration of our national independence." parker pillsbury: "without his 'common sense,' written in , we should not have had the declaration of independence in ." samuel bryan: "this book, 'common sense,' may be called the book of genesis, for it was the beginning. from this book spread the declaration of independence, that not only laid the foundation of liberty in our own country, but the good of mankind throughout the world." "the open movement to independence dates from its publication."--_encyclopedia britannica_ ( th ed.) elkanah watson (one of paine's calumniators): "it everywhere flashed conviction, and aroused a determined spirit which resulted in the declaration of independence." rev. e. cobham brewer, ll. d.: "this spark was sufficient to rouse the americans, who at once signed the declaration of independence." william howitt: "it at once seized on the imagination of the public, cast all other writers into the shades and flew in thousands and tens of thousands all over the colonies.... the common fire blazed up in congress, and the thing was done." "he became the great oracle on the subject of governments and constitutions." thomas gaspey: "he was treated with great consideration by the members of the revolutionary government, who took no steps of importance without consulting him." grand dictionary universel: "he became the political catechism of the movement." dictionary of national biography (america): "joined the provincial army in the autumn [ ] and became a volunteer aid-de-camp to general nathaniel greene, animating the troops by his writings [the 'crisis']." "the pamphlets that stirred like a trumpet call the flagging energies of a desponding people."--_rev. john snyder_. "general greene made him one of his aides-de-camp; but an appointment on that staff, during those weeks, carried with it very little, either of privilege or luxury. in the flight from fort lee paine lost his baggage and his private papers; but he had kept or borrowed a pen. he began to write at newark, the first stage in the calamitous retreat; and he worked all night at every halting place until his new pamphlet was completed. it was published in philadelphia on the th of december, under the title of 'the crisis,' and at once flew like wildfire through all the towns and villages of the confederacy."--_sir george trevelyan_. this, the first number of the "crisis," opens with these words: "these are the times that try men's souls. the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict the more glorious the triumph." samuel eliot: "his later pamphlets, issued during the war under the name of the 'crisis,' were of equal power [to 'common sense']." encyclopedia of social reform: "the 'crisis' exerted wide influence for independence and republicanism." albert bushnell hart, ll.d.: "the 'crisis' [sixteen numbers], written by paine between and , exercised an enormous influence over men and events during the revolution." albert payson terhune: "he plunged, heart and soul, into the struggle for freedom. his 'common sense' and other pamphlets [the 'crisis'] were such strong and eloquent pleas for liberty that washington ordered some of them read aloud to the patriot armies." national cyclopedia of american biography: "its [the 'crisis'] initial number was, by the order of general washington, read aloud to each regiment and to each detachment." william s. stryker: "the effect of its strong patriotic sentences was apparent upon the spirits of the army." george t. cram: "the whole patriot army was inspirited by it." werner's encyclopedia (ed. ): "its opening words, 'these are the times that try men's souls,' became a battle cry." norman hapgood, ll.b.: "the last sentence [of the first 'crisis'] sounds like a prophecy and the first sentence, 'these are the times that try men's souls,' was the watchword [at the battle of trenton]." george lippard: "in the full prime of early manhood, he joins the army of the revolution; he shares the crust and the cold with washington and his men; he is with those brave soldiers on the toilsome march, with them by the camp fire, with them in the hour of battle. "is the day dark? has the battle been bloody? do the american soldiers despair? hark! that printing press yonder, which moves with the american camp in all its wanderings, is scattering pamphlets through the ranks of the army--pamphlets written by the author-soldier; written sometimes on the head of a drum, or by the midnight fire, or amid the corpses of the dead." "such words as these stirred up the starved continentals to the attack on trenton, and there in the dawn of that glorious morning, george washington, standing sword in hand over the dead body of the hessian rhol, confessed the magic influence of the author-hero's pen." "under that cloud, by washington's side, was silently at work the force that lifted it. marching by day, listening to the consultations of washington and his generals, paine wrote by the camp fires; the winter storms, the delaware waves, were mingled with his ink; the half-naked soldiers in their troubled sleep dreaming of their distant homes, the skulking deserter creeping off in the dusk, the pallid face of the heavy-hearted commander, made the awful shadows beneath which was written that leaflet."--_dr. conway_. of this work sir george trevelyan writes: "the 'crisis' was an impassioned appeal to arms. that circumstance endowed paine's glowing rhetoric with a special value in the estimation of americans. to their mind's eye the little work was adorned by an imaginary frontispiece of a soldier, writing by the watch-fire's light, with his comrades slumbering round him; and it was among those comrades that the author found his warmest admirers and his most convinced disciples." "these words were fire and warmed the soldiers; they were meat and drink for the famishing; they were clothes for the naked. the soldiers were filled with a courage new and unknown. the battle of trenton came, and as the soldiers entered that conflict, all down the ranks rang the battle cry, 'these are the times that try men's souls.' the battle was fought and won. the army of the patriots had entered upon a new career. and thus he wrote and wrought to the end of the immortal struggle."--_dr. john e. roberts_. "in the midnight of valley forge the 'crisis' was the only star that glittered in the broad horizon of despair."--_col. ingersoll_. "paine was the real founder of our republic. without his 'common sense' the independence of the american colonies never would have been declared; without his 'crisis' it never could have been won. without his services this country, like canada, india, australia and south africa, today would be a part of the british empire. "we would undoubtedly be under british rule today but for the wise and wonderful efforts of thomas paine.''--_ella wheeler wilcox_. "paine's title as the discoverer and inventor of the united states is just as plain as watt's invention of the steam engine, and everything that has taken place as a result of organizing the united states of america is the result of thomas paine's labors."--_rev. thomas r. slicer, d.d_. timothy matlack (oct. , ): "the honorable house of assembly has proposed and council has adopted a plan of obtaining more regular and constant intelligence of the proceedings of general washington's army than has hitherto been had. every one agrees that you [paine] are the proper person for the purpose, and i am directed by his excellency, the president, to write to you.... proper expresses will be engaged in this business. if the expresses which pass from headquarters to congress can be made use of so much the better,--of this you must be the judge." col. asa bird gardener, ll.d.: "the entire british fleet was then brought up opposite fort mifflin, and the most furious cannonade and most desperate but finally unsuccessful defense of the place was made. the entire works were demolished, and the most of the garrison killed and wounded. major general greene being anxious for the garrison and desirous of knowing its ability to resist sent mr. paine to ascertain. he accordingly went to fort mercer, and from thence, on nov. , ( ), went with col. christopher greene commanding fort mercer, in an open boat to fort mifflin, during the cannonade, and was there when the enemy opened with two gun batteries and a mortar battery. this _very_ gallant act shows what a fearless man mr. paine was." lippincott's biographical dictionary: "he was secretary to the committee on foreign affairs in congress from april, , to january, ." it has been asserted by mr. roosevelt and others that paine, because of his action in the deane affair, was discharged from his position as secretary to the committee on foreign affairs. he was not discharged, nor was he even asked to resign. he resigned of his own volition. franklin steiner: "in a fraud was about to be committed upon the infant republic.... paine wrote several articles for the press, exposing the entire corrupt transaction, and of course made enemies of all involved in the dishonest affair, who at once made attempts to have him discharged from his position, in which they failed." "a motion for his dismission was lost."--_dr. conway_. "congress refused to vote that it was 'an abuse of office,' or to discharge him."--_ibid_. it was paine's honesty and patriotism, a desire to protect the interests of his adopted country, that caused him to make his exposure. his "indiscretion," as some diplomats characterized it, saved the colonies a million livres. pennsylvania applauded the act and rebuked his censors by appointing him clerk of the assembly. his whole subsequent career--his continued labors in behalf of the colonies--the confidence reposed in him by all the people--show that his ability, his integrity, and his patriotism were never questioned. in less than three years after the deane affair the members of congress who had honestly espoused deane's cause acknowledged the justice and wisdom of paine's exposure. john jay knox: "in occurred the darkest days of the revolutionary war. the army was in great distress.... thomas paine, the clerk in the pennsylvania assembly, in a letter to blair mcclenaghan, suggested a subscription for relief of the army and enclosed a contribution of $ . american cyclopedia: "a letter [dated may , ] was received by the assembly of pennsylvania from gen. washington, saying that, notwithstanding his confidence in the attachment of the army to the cause of the country, he feared their distresses would soon cause mutiny in the ranks. this letter was read by paine as clerk. a despairing silence pervaded the hall, and the assembly soon adjourned. paine wrote to blair mcclenaghan, a merchant of philadelphia, explaining the urgency of affairs, and enclosed in the letter $ , the amount of salary due him as clerk, as his contribution toward a relief fund. mcclenaghan called a meeting next day and read paine's letter; a subscription list was immediately circulated, and in a short time £ , [nearly $ , , ] pennsylvania currency was collected. with this as a capital, the pennsylvania bank, afterwards expanded into the bank of north america, was established for the relief of the army." cassell's dictionary of religion: "in paine was sent to france with col. laurens to negotiate a loan in which he was more than successful, for the french granted a subsidy of six million livres, and became a guarantor of ten millions advanced by holland." lamartine says the king "loaded paine with favors." his gift of six millions was "confided to franklin and paine." robert morris (feb. , ): "they [morris, minister of finance, livingston, secretary for foreign affairs, and washington, commander-in-chief] are agreed that it will be much for the interest of the united states that mr. paine be retained in their [the united states'] service." charles wilson peale: "personal acquaintance with him gives me an opportunity of knowing that he had done more for our cause than the world who had only seen his publications could know." "america is indebted to few characters more than to you."--_gen. nathaniel greene_. calvin blanchard: "he stood the acknowledged leader of american statesmanship, and the soul of the revolution, by the proclamation of the legislatures of all the states and that of the congress of the united states." pennsylvania council (dec. , ): "so important were his services during the late contest that those persons whose own merits in the course of it have been the most distinguished concur with a highly honorable unanimity in entertaining sentiments of esteem for him." "the attention of pennsylvania is drawn toward mr. paine by motives equally grateful to the human heart and reputable to the republic." pennsylvania assembly: "thomas paine did, during the progress of the revolution, voluntarily devote himself to the service of the public, without accepting recompense therefor, and, moreover, did decline taking or receiving the profits which authors are entitled to on the sale of their literary works, but relinquished them for the better accommodation of the country and the honor of the public cause." rev. dr. m. j. savage: "he wrote the book which caused the declaration of independence, a book in such great demand that the presses groaned for months in endeavoring to supply the demand; a book, the income from the circulation of which, to-day would make a man rich, and yet he steadfastly refused to receive a cent for it." more than fifty years ago, the rev. moncure d. conway, then pastor of a church in cincinnati, in a eulogy on paine, said: "so disinterested was he, that, when his works were printed by the ten thousand, and as fast as one edition was out another was demanded, he, a poor and pinched author, who might very easily have grown rich, would not accept one cent for them, declared that he would not coin his principles, and made to the states a present of the copyrights. his brain was his fortune,--nay his living; he gave it all to american independence." paine also gave the copyrights of the several numbers of his "crisis" to the states. the close of the revolution found him, to quote from dr. conway's biography of paine, "a penniless patriot who might easily have had fifty thousand pounds in his pocket." (i shall quote freely from dr. conway. for all time this biographer will be the standard authority on thomas paine. he was a life-long student of paine. in each of the three countries which paine served, america, france and england, he had full access to the national archives of paine's time. he was a distinguished pulpit orator in both hemispheres, and had a world-wide reputation as a literary man. above all his love of truth and justice and his rugged honesty and candor make him a witness whose testimony is unimpeachable. to him andrew carnegie pays this tribute: "he has passed, but he has left behind him a precious legacy to all who were so fortunate as to be able to call him friend. they are better men and women because moncure conway lived and entered into their lives.") united states congress (aug. , ): "_resolved_, that the early, unsolicited, and continued labors of mr. thomas paine, in explaining and enforcing the principles of the late revolution by ingenious and timely publications upon the nature of liberty and civil government have been well received by the citizens of these states, and merit the approbation of congress." this resolution was passed by a unanimous vote. allibone's dictionary of authors: "he was rewarded by a donation from congress of $ , ." "in , at the suggestion of washington, congress granted $ to paine.... in the state of new york presented him with acres of land at new rochelle, and pennsylvania with £ ; and in congress gave him $ , ."--_international encyclopedia_. "some writers have denied his political services, and have declared it impossible that a stranger at the outbreak of the colonial struggle, he could have influenced public opinion in america; but such should remember that the contemporaries of paine--and worthy men many of them certainly were who associated with paine--judged differently, and not only freely circulated his writings but gave expression to their worth,... besides conferring on him the degree of m. a. (pennsylvania university), and membership in their choicest literary association, the american philosophical society."--_mcclintock and strong's biblical, theological and ecclesiastical cyclopedia_. "let it not be supposed that washington, franklin, jefferson, randolph, and the rest were carried away by a meteor. deep answers only unto deep."--_dr. conway_. drake's dictionary of american biography: "his powerful exertions to promote the independence of america constitutes a high claim upon the gratitude of his adopted country." ignatius donnelly: "paine did a great work during the revolutionary war in behalf of liberty and deserves to be forever remembered." mcclintock and strong's biblical theological and ecclesiastical encyclopedia, to quote again from this standard christian authority, says: "the truth cannot be withheld that thomas paine was one of the most powerful actors in the revolutionary drama.... his services to his adopted country should not be forgotten." "as the tyrtaeus of the revolution, and it is no exaggeration to style him such, we owe everlasting gratitude to his name and memory."--_rev. solomon southwick._ john spencer bassett: "history cannot forget that he was an important promoter of the revolution." "paine's brawny arm applied the torch which set the country in a flame, to be extinguished only by the relinquishment of british supremacy; and for this, irrespective of his motives and character, he merits the gratitude of every american."--_gen. william a. stokes._ "no man rendered grander, service to this country, and no man ought to be more cherished or remembered than thomas paine."--_rev. minot j. savage, d. d._ paul allen: "those who regard the independence of the united states as a blessing will never cease to cherish the remembrance of thomas paine." "to the welfare of thomas paine the americans are not nor can they be indifferent."--_james monroe._ hon. elizur wright: "it was thomas paine, more than any other man, or any other thing, who turned the current of history in the new world." rev. john snyder: "paine did more than any other single man to create this nation. i simply speak what will some day be the sober judgment of history." "there was no man in the colonies who contributed so much to bring the open declaration of independence to a crisis as thomas paine."--_william howitt._ "he did more for the american cause and for american independence than any other man."--_sir hiram maxim._ "like a magnificent dream the figure of this republic arose in his brain.... the result was victory; and thomas paine, the dreamer, the writing soldier, had done more than any other man to make this country free, and to give it a place among the nations of the world."--_marshall j. gaumn._ "he was the real founder of the american republic."--_henry frank._ "he wrote the word 'independence,' and created the greatest nation in the world." hon. john w. hoyt, ll.d.: "thomas paine inspired the revolution by his spirit, maintained it when in the darkest hours of the battle it seemed that the spark of liberty would go out." dr. j. r. monroe: "with the wand of his genius he turned aside the scroll that concealed the future of our country, and by the inspiring picture he thus presented our disheartened and hard-pressed forefathers were nerved to press forward, to brave every peril, to dare every danger, to defy every death, till tyranny was throttled and man was free." rev. martin k. schermerhorn: "when our children's children shall celebrate america's _second_ centennial a hundred years from now, they will write in largest letters upon their national banner this sentence which all intelligent american citizens will then enthusiastically recognize and applaud: 'thomas paine--the patriot... of two hundred years ago.'" stephen simpson: "to the genius of thomas paine as a popular writer, and to that of george washington as a prudent, skillful, and consummate general, are the american people indebted for their rights, liberty and independence." mrs. hypatia bradlaugh-bonner: "with washington he played the foremost part in the american revolution. if washington was the sword and the strong arm, paine was the heart and brains of that great struggle. he was the mouth-piece of the aspirations of a continent. he dared to utter the thoughts that lay concealed in the secret hearts of the people. he sounded the demand for the independence of the continent. he bound together the separate colonies, and proclaimed 'the free and independent states of america.'" thomas paine was the creator of this great republic. he was the real father of our country; washington was its foster father. paine's pen transformed a petty rebellion into a mighty revolution and made a rebel chief the triumphant defender of a new-born nation. washington's fame is secure. his right to a place in the pantheon of earth's immortals will never be denied. and when the clouds of prejudice are dispelled, as they will be, paine's name will shine with a splendor unsurpassed, never to be obscured again. the "rights of man" and the french revolution. thomas h. dyer, ll.d.: "an active agent in the french revolution." "one of those celebrated foreigners whom the nation ought with eagerness to adopt."--_madame roland._ m. cheslay: "he defended in london the principles of the french revolution." brockhaus' konversatjons-lexikon: "after he returned to england in he published his 'rights of man.' (translated into many languages) in which he defended the french revolution against the assaults of burke." porter c. bliss: "published, in - his 'rights of man' [two parts], a vindication of the french revolution, in reply to burke, which gave him immense popularity in france and led to a bestowal of citizenship and his election to the french national convention." "he was made a french citizen by the same decree with washington, hamilton, priestley and sir james mackintosh."--_joel barlow_. nelson's encyclopedia: "the book was dedicated to washington, was translated into french and made a, great impression." (the second part was dedicated to lafayette.) edmund gosse, ll.d.: "the circulation was so enormous that it had a distinct effect in coloring public opinion." appleton's cyclopedia of american biography: "his 'rights of man,' if the undenied statement as to its circulation (a million and a half of copies is correct) was more largely read in england and france than any other political work ever published." chamber's encyclopedia: "the most famous of all the replies to burke's 'reflections on the french revolution.' a million and a half copies were sold in england alone." john hall (london, january, ): "burke's publication has produced nearly fifty different answers. nothing has ever been so read as paine's answer." edward baines, ll.d.: "editions were multiplied in every form and size; it was alike seen in the hands of the noble and the plebeian, and became, at length, translated into the various languages of europe." paris moniteur (nov. , ): "that which will astonish posterity is that at stockholm, five months after the death of gustavus, and while the northern powers are leaguing themselves against the liberty of france, there has been published a translation of thomas paine's 'rights of man,' the translator being one of the king's secretaries." the following is a summary of paine's political philosophy as presented in the "rights of man": . government is the organization of the aggregate natural rights which individuals are not competent to secure individually, and therefore surrender to the control of society in exchange for the protection of all rights. . republican government is that in which the welfare of the whole nation is the object. . monarchy is government, more or less arbitrary, in which the interests of an individual are paramount to those of the people generally. . aristocracy is government, partially arbitrary, in which the interests of a class are paramount to the people generally. . democracy is the whole people governing themselves without secondary means. . representative government is the control of a nation by persons elected by the whole nation. . the rights of man mean the right of all to representation. paine advocated a republic ( .) with a representative government ( .). the first real republic with a representative government of importance established in the world was in the united states of america, of which, when religious prejudice passes away, thomas paine will be recognized as the founder. professor j. b. bury, ll.d.: "his 'rights of man' is an indictment of the monarchical form of government, and a plea for representative democracy." terrible but truthful is paine's indictment of monarchy: "all the monarchical governments are military. war is their trade; plunder and revenue their objects. while such governments continue, peace has not the absolute security of a day. what is the history of all monarchical governments but a disgustful picture of human wretchedness, and the accidental respite of a few years repose. wearied with war and tired with human butchery, they sat down to rest and called it peace." this is his conception of an ideal government: "when it shall be said in any country in the world, 'my poor are happy; neither ignorance nor distress is to be found among them; my jails are empty of prisoners, my streets of beggars; the aged are not in want, the taxes are not oppressive, the rational world is my friend, because i am the friend of its happiness,'---when these things can be said, then may that country boast of its constitution and its government." "the political events of our own day--of the present hour--point to the time when the ambitions and the wars of monarchy will be at an end, and when republican peace will reign throughout the world. then shall the dream of thomas paine, the world's greatest citizen of the world, be realized."--_marshall j. gaitvin._ washington irving: "a reprint of paine's 'rights of man,' written in reply to burke's pamphlet on the french revolution, appeared [in america] under the auspices of mr. jefferson." in introducing paine's work to the american people jefferson, then secretary of state, said: "i have no doubt our citizens will rally a second time round the standard of 'common sense.'" the builders of the nation: "at this time the republican party as it was called, accepted the views of jefferson, and as he openly accepted paine's 'rights of man' it followed that the advanced views contained in that book grew to be held measurably as the party tenets of his followers." prof. e. d. adams, ph. d.: "as a cult [democracy], the theory undoubtedly first found adequate expression amongst us in the writings of thomas paine.... in these two books ['common sense' and 'rights of man'] paine was then the first to state the ideal of democracy, as it later came to be accepted in america under the leadership of jefferson." in a letter to monroe, referring to the censure he had received for his endorsement of paine's book, jefferson says: "i certainly merit the same, for i profess the same principles." in a letter to paine (june , ,) jefferson says: "our good people are firm and unanimous in their principles of republicanism, and there is no better proof of it than that they love what you write and read it with delight." james madison declared the "rights of man" to be "a written defense of the principles on which that [our] government is based." for our so-called jeffersonian democracy we are indebted to thomas paine. he formulated its principles. jefferson, madison and others of his disciples popularized them. after commending the "rights of man" richard henry lee wrote: "i sincerely regret that our country could not have offered sufficient inducements to have retained as a permanent citizen a man so thoroughly republican in sentiment and fearless in the expression of his opinions." in his book, one of the most brilliant volumes ever penned, burke, long the friend of popular government, defended royalty and aristocracy. he sought to arouse the sympathies of europe in behalf of royalty and aristocracy in france which were tottering to their fall, a disaster which endangered their existence everywhere. the book was circulated by tens of thousands. captivated by its marvelous beauty a reaction in favor of despotism was setting in when paine's immortal work appeared. the glowing rhetoric of burke went down before the merciless logic of paine. burke is filled with sorrow for the french king and nobles whose rule and privileges have been abolished or restricted, but expresses none for the millions who for centuries have been persecuted, impoverished and imprisoned by the ruling classes. in words that come from the heart of the author and which reach the hearts of the people, paine answers him: "not one glance of compassion, not one commiserating reflection, that i can find throughout his book, has he bestowed on those that lingered out the most wretched of lives; a life without hope, in the most miserable of prisons. it is painful to behold a man employing his talents to corrupt himself. nature has been kinder to mr. burke than he has been to her. he is not affected by the reality of distress touching upon his heart, but by the showy resemblance of it striking his imagination. he pities the plumage, but forgets the dying bird. accustomed to kiss the aristocratic hand that hath purloined him from himself, he degenerates into a composition of art, and the genuine soul of nature forsakes him. his hero or his heroine must be a tragedy-victim, expiring in show, and not the real prisoner of misery, sliding into death in the silence of a dungeon." referring to this intellectual combat william cobbett, one of england's most distinguished political writers, writing more than a quarter of a century after paine's reply to burke, says: "as my lord grenville introduced the name of burke, suffer me, my lord, to introduce that of a man who put this burke to shame, who drove him off the public stage to seek shelter in the pension list, and who is now named fifty million times where the name of the pensioned burke is mentioned once." lord john morley: "thomas paine replied to them [burke's 'reflections'] with an energy, courage and eloquence worthy of his cause in the 'rights of man.'" "in brilliant rhetoric burke argued its [natural rights] dangerous and baseless nature.. paine in his even more brilliant 'rights of man,' answered burke."--_encyclopedia of social reform._ thomas campbell: "he strongly answered at the bar of public opinion all the arguments of burke. i do not deny that fact; and i should be sorry if i could be blind, even with tears in my eyes for mackintosh, to the services that have been rendered to the cause of truth by the shrewdness and courage of thomas paine." (great events inspire great works. three of the masterpieces of literature were inspired by the french revolution, edmund burke's "reflections on the french revolution" condemning it, and sir james mackintosh's "vindiciæ gallicæ" and thomas paine's "rights of man" defending it.) dictionary of national biography (england): "paine is the only english writer who exposes with uncompromising sharpness the abstract doctrines of political rights held by the french revolutionists." charles james fox: "it ['rights of man'] seems as clear and as simple as the first rules of arithmetic." manchester constitutional society (march , ): "a work of the highest importance to every nation under heaven, but particularly to this, as containing excellent and practical plans for an immediate and considerable reduction of the public expenditure; for the prevention of wars; for the extension of our manufactures and commerce; for the education of the young; for the comfortable support of the aged; for the better maintenance of the poor." sheffield society for constitutional information (march , ): "we have derived more true knowledge from the two works of thomas paine, entitled 'rights of man,' parts first and second, than from any other author. the practice as well as the principle of government is laid down in those works in a manner so clear and irresistibly convincing." james anthony froude: "copies of paine's 'rights of man' were sown broadcast [in ireland]." "protestant belfast had declared itself a disciple of paine." "the irish patriots were red republicans... anxious to establish in ireland the principles of paine." "paine," says his biographer, dr. conway, "held a supremacy in the constitutional clubs of england and ireland equal to that of robespierre over the jacobins of paris." william pitt (to lady hester stanhope, who had quoted from the "rights of man"): "paine is quite in the right, but what am i to do?" sir james mackintosh: "his bold speculations and fierce invectives indicated the approach of social confusion." prof. g. p. gooch, m.a.: "the 'rights of man,' compelled attention not less by the novelty of its ideas than by its consummate pamphleteering skill.... the alarm increased when it was known that the book was selling by tens of thousands." diccionaris enciclopedico (spain): "the friends of the government burned paine in effigy in the streets of london. later he was proclaimed the great apostle of liberty and the father of the revolution." gouverneur morris: "bonnville is here [paris]. he is just returned from england. he tells me that paine's book works mightily in england." louis blanc: "the militia were armed, in the southeast of england troops received orders to march to london, the meeting of parliament was advanced forty days, the tower was reinforced by a new garrison, in fine there was enrolled a formidable preparation of war--against thomas paine's book on the 'rights of man.'" h. d. traill, d.c.l.: "paine's book on the 'rights of man' was known to have an enormous circulation, and he was prosecuted for it under the proclamation of may, . paine's counsel argued in vain that it had never been held criminal to express opinions on the problems of political philosophy.... paine was condemned." "he was defended by erskine, who was then in the zenith of his glory as an advocate, in a speech of marvelous power and eloquence."--_hon. e. b. washburne._ j. redman ("london, tuesday, dec. , , p.m."): "mr. paine's trial is this instant over. erskine shone like the morning star. the instant erskine closed his speech the venal jury [it was a packed jury] interrupted the attorney general, who was about to make reply, and without waiting for any answer, or any summing up by the judge, pronounced him guilty. such an instance of infernal corruption is scarcely upon record." paine's case was set for june, , and he was anxious to go to trial then. at the request of the government it was postponed till december. in the meantime paine, having been elected to the national convention, went to france. had he remained in england death or a long imprisonment would have been his fate, the charge against him being high treason. alexander gilchrist: "on paine's rising to leave [he had delivered a radical address in london the night before], blake [william] laid his hand on the orator's shoulder, saying, 'you must not go home, or you are a dead man,' and he hurried him off on his way to france.... those were hanging days in england." dr. james currie ( ): "the prosecutions that are commenced all over england against printers, publishers, etc., would astonish you; and most of these are for offenses committed months ago. the printer of the manchester _herald_ has had... six different indictments for selling or disposing of six different copies of paine--all previous to the trial of paine. the man was opulent, supposed worth £ , ; but these different actions will ruin him, as they were intended to do." the trial of paine was followed by a veritable reign of terror in england. alluding to the prosecutions and persecutions of the publishers and venders of paine's books, buckle, in his "history of civilization," says: "it is no exaggeration to say that for some years england was ruled by a system of absolute terror." it was over the writings of thomas paine chiefly, his "rights of man" at first and later his "age of reason," that the battle for free speech and a free press in england was fought and won. in this great struggle england's gifted statesman, charles james fox, whom edmund burke describes as "the greatest debater the world ever saw," and whom sir james mackintosh declares to de "the most demosthenian speaker since demosthenes," ably and fearlessly upheld the rights of paine and the disseminators of his writings and teachings. in this struggle the poet shelley, too, did valiant work. richard carlile: "it is not too much to say that if the 'rights of man' had obtained two or three years' free circulation in england and scotland, it would have produced a similar effect to that which 'common sense' did in the united states." sir francis burdett: "ministers know that a united people are not to be resisted; and it is this that we must understand by what is written in the works of an honest man too long calumniated. i mean thomas paine." m. brissot: "the grievance of the british cabinet against france is not that louis is in judgment, but that thomas paine wrote the 'rights of man'." abbe sieyes: "his 'rights of man,' translated into our language, is universally known; and where is the patriotic frenchman who has not already, from the depths of his soul, thanked him for having fortified our cause with all the power of his reason and his reputation." "paine's 'rights of man'," says dr. conway, "had been in every french home. his portrait, painted by romney and engraved by sharp, was in every cottage, framed in immortelles." napoleon bonaparte said: "i always sleep with the 'rights of man' beneath my pillow." hon. elihu b. washburne, minister of the united states to france during president grant's administration, and later a prominent candidate for president of the united states himself, in a monograph on thomas paine, says: "he at once became a hero in france, and was everywhere received with enthusiasm. the doors of the _salons_ and clubs of paris were opened to him, and he was soon recognized as one of the advanced figures in the revolution, standing by the side of de bonneville, brissot and condorcet." it is a commonly accepted opinion that the french revolution was inspired chiefly by the writings of rousseau and voltaire. hardly less potent, however, were paine's "rights of man," published at the beginning of the revolution, and his "common sense," which electrified france fifteen years before. referring to these french writings and the "rights of man," dr. conway says: "in this book the philosophy of visionary reformers took practical shape. from the ashes of rousseau's 'contrat social,' burnt in paris, rose the 'rights of man,' no phoenix, but an eagle of the new world, with eye not blinded by any royal sun. it comes to tell how by union of france and america--of lafayette and washington--the 'contrat social' was framed into the constitution of a happy and glorious new earth." charles knight: "in the week of the flight of louis [june, ] paine wrote in english a proclamation to the french nation, which, being translated, was affixed to all the walls of paris. it was an invitation to the people to profit by existing circumstances, and establish a republic." ida m. tarbell: "brissot brought several of his friends to see them [the rolands]. among the most important of these were petion and robespierre. in april [ ] thomas paine appeared. so agreeable were these informal reunions found to be that it was arranged to hold them four times a week.... to madame roland these gatherings were of absorbing interest." "with condorcet, brissot, and a few others as sympathizers, paine formed a republican society." justin h. mccarthy: "the prospectus of a journal called _le republicaine_ was posted at the very doors of the general assembly. it was signed by duchatellet, a colonel of chasseurs, but is said to have been drawn up by thomas paine." etienne dumont: "some of the seed sown by the audacious hand of paine were now budding in leading minds." meyers' gross konversations-lexikon: "in paris paine was declared a french citizen and was elected to the national convention by the department of pas-de-calais." la grande encyclopédie: "declared a french citizen by the national assembly, he was elected a member of the convention by the departments of l'oise, the puy-de-dome and the pas-de-calais." h. morse stephens, ll.d.: "paine, one of the founders of the american republic, was elected by no less than three departments to the convention." m. louvet (and thirty-two others): "your love for humanity, for liberty and equality, the useful works that have issued from your pen in their defense, have determined our choice. it has been hailed with universal and reiterated applause. come friend of the people, to swell the number of patriots in an assembly which will decide the destiny of a great people, perhaps of the human race." biographie universelle: "amid salvos of artillery and cries of '_vive_ thomas paine!' his arrival was announced." cates' biographical dictionary: "the garrison of calais were under arms to receive this friend of liberty. the tri-colored cockade was presented to him by the mayor, and the handsomest woman in the town was selected to place it in his hat." w. t. sherwin: "the hall of the minimes [in calais] was so crowded that it was with the greatest difficulty they made way for mr. paine to the side of the president. over the chair he sat in was placed the bust of mirabeau, and the colors of france, england, and america united. a speaker acquainted him from the tribune with his election, amid the plaudits of the people. for some minutes after the ceremony nothing was heard but '_vive la nation! vive thomas paine!_'" "ancient calais, in its time, had received heroes from across the channel, but hitherto never with joy. that honor the centuries reserved for a thetford quaker. as the packet sails in a salute is fired from the battery; cheers sound along the shore. as the representative for calais steps on french soil soldiers make his avenue, the officers embrace him, the national cockade is presented. a beautiful lady advances, requesting the honor of setting the cockade in his hat, and makes him a pretty speech, ending with liberty, equality and france. as they move along the rue de l'egalité (late rue du roi) the air rings with '_vive thomas paine_'! at the town hall he is presented to the municipality, by each member embraced, by the mayor also addressed. at the meeting of the constitutional society of calais, in the minimes, he sits beside the president, beneath the bust of mirabeau and the united colors of france, england and america. there is an official ceremony announcing his election, and plaudits of the crowd, '_vive la nation! vive thomas paine!'"--dr. conway_. rev. francis l. hawkes, ll.d.: "meantime paine had been declared in paris worthy of citizenship, and he proceeded thither, where he was received with every demonstration of extravagant joy." "the ovation which paine received on his arrival in france was one such as theretofore only kings had received."--_theodore schroeder_. hérault de sechelles, (president of national assembly): "france calls you, sir, to its bosom to fill the most useful, and consequently the most honorable of functions--that of contributing, by wise legislation, to the happiness of a people whose destinies interest and unite all who think and all who suffer in the world. "it is meet that the nation which proclaimed the rights of man should desire to have him among its legislators who first dared to measure all their consequences." philip van ness myers, ll.d.: "the convention, consisting of seven hundred and forty-nine deputies, among whom was the celebrated freethinker, thomas paine, embraced two active groups, the girondins and the mountainists [jacobins]." alphonse de lamartine: "a stranger sat among the members of the convention--the philosopher, thomas paine, born in england, the apostle of american independence, the friend of franklin, author of 'common sense,' the 'rights of man,' and the 'age of reason'--three pages of the new evangelist in which he brought back political institutions and religious creeds to their primitive justice and lucidity; his name possessed great weight among the innovators of the two worlds." "everyone," says paul desjardins, "turned toward paine as toward the living statue of liberty. the enfranchisement of america consecrated him." the official reports of the national convention state that when paine arose in the convention and cast his vote for its first decree the act was received by "acclamations of joy, the cries of _vive la nation!_ repeated by all the spectators, prolonging themselves for many minutes!" referring to this convention, the hon. e. b. washburne says: "never was there a legislative or constituent body which displayed such stupendous energy or performed such immense labor. in the delirium of its passions it stamped itself on the history of the world not only by its crimes, but by its great acts of legislation, which will live as long as france shall endure. thomas paine was a member of this convention. his popularity in france at this time is shown by the fact that he was chosen a member of the convention by three departments. "the convention was not long in giving paine a striking recognition of the consideration in which it held him. one of its earliest decrees was to establish a special commission (committee) of nine members on the constitution. this commission was composed of the most distinguished men of the convention: gensonne, thomas paine, brissot, petion, vergniaud, barrere, danton, condorcet, and the abbe sieyes." louis adolphus thiers: "a sixth committee was charged with the principal object for which the convention had met, to prepare a new constitution. it was composed of nine celebrated members. philosophy had its representatives in the persons of sieyes, condorcet, and the american thomas paine, recently elected a french citizen, and a member of the convention. the gironde was more particularly represented by gensonne, vergniaud, petion, and brissot; the centre by barrere, and the montagne by danton." the names of these eminent men will live long in history; but dear was the price paid for their fame. danton, brissot, gensonne and vergniaud died on the scaffold; condorcet died in a prison cell, a suicide; petion escaped to a forest where his body was afterward found partly devoured by wolves; barrere was banished, and paine was imprisoned. sieyes alone escaped unharmed. thomas carlyle: "to make the constitution; to defend the republic till that be made. speedily enough, accordingly, there has been a committee of constitution got together. sieyes, old constituent, constitution builder by trade; condorcet, fit for better things; deputy paine, foreign benefactor of the species with the black beaming eyes;... hérault de sechelles, ex-parlementier, one of the handsomest men in france,--these, with inferior guild-brethren, are girt cheerfully to the task." (hérault was a supplementary member of the committee). john king (referring to paine): "the chief modeler of their new constitution." the constitution was almost entirely the work of paine and condorcet. it is known as the paine-condorcet constitution. dr. david saville muzzey: "paine labored to make this new republic of france an example for the monarchy-cursed countries of europe. it was he who protested against the domination of the assembly by the section of paris which led to the reign of terror." m. taine: "compared with the speeches and writings of the times, it [paine's letter to danton] produces the strangest effect by its practical good sense." madame de stael: "when the sentence of louis xvi. came under discussion paine alone advised what would have done honor to france if it had been adopted." henri martin: "thomas paine, the famous representative of the idea of a universal republic, had voted against both an appeal to the people and the penalty of death." thomas wright, f. s. a.: "he urged with great earnestness that the execution of the sentence of death should be delayed." m. guizot: "the last effort was about to be attempted to save the life of the king by delaying execution. the anger of the jacobins was extreme; they refused to listen to a speech from thomas paine, the american, till respect for his courage gained him a hearing.... the prayer and the hope were as vain as they were affecting." hon. elihu b. washburne: "it was on the th day of january, , that paine mounted the tribune to speak to this question. this trial of louis xvi. by the national convention is one of the most remarkable on record. the session was made permanent, and the trial went on day and night. after a lapse of nearly one hundred years, the painful and dramatic scenes stand out with still greater prominence. the _salle des machines_, in the pavillon de flores at the tuileries, had been converted into a grand hall for the sittings of the convention. the galleries were immense and could seat fourteen hundred spectators. in an immense city like paris, convulsed with a political excitement never equaled, the trial of a king for his life produced the most profound emotions that ever agitated any community. all classes and conditions were carried away by the prevailing excitement, and the pressure for places exceeded anything ever known. "the appearance of thomas paine at the tribune, with a roll of manuscript in his hand, created a sensation in the convention. by his side stood bancal, who was there to translate the speech into french and read it to the convention. the first declaration of the celebrated foreigner produced a commotion on the benches of the montagne. coming from a democrat like thomas paine, a man so intimately allied with the americans, a great thinker and writer, there was fear of their influence on the convention. "the most violent exclamations broke out, drowning the voice of bancal, the unfortunate interpreter, and creating an indescribable tumult. never was a man in a more embarrassing condition than paine was at this time. though not understanding the language, he yet realized the fury of the storm which raged around him. standing at the tribune in his half quaker coat, and genteelly attired, he remained undaunted and self-possessed during the tempest. this speech of paine breathed greatness of soul and generosity of spirit and will forever honor his memory." paine's speech, says conway, is "unparalleled for argument and art and eloquence." charlotte m. yonge: "a brave remonstrance." hon. thomas e. watson: "among the brave who would not bend to the storm was thomas paine. man enough to defy kings and priests, he was man enough, likewise, to defy a howling mob." e. belford bax: "paine, up to the last, manfully voted in the sense in which he had always spoken, for the life of the king at the imminent risk of his own." writing of the events which preceded and attended the trial and execution of louis xvi, prince talleyrand, a profound admirer of paine, says: "it was no longer a question that the king should reign, but that he himself, the queen, their children, his sister, should be saved. it might have been done. it was at least a duty to attempt it." it was a duty, however, whose performance carried with it the probable penalty of death. danton, france's greatest and bravest son, wished to save the life of the king, but dared not to vote in favor of it. "although i may save his life," he said, "i shall vote for his death. i am quite willing to save his head, but not to lose my own." even the king's cousin, philip of orleans, voted for his kinsman's death. paine did not shirk his duty. he, too, loved life, but he loved honor more, and so, defying death, voted and pleaded for the life of the fallen monarch. "ah, that man who stood there alone in that breathless hall with such mighty eloquence warming over his lofty brow! that man was one of that illustrious band who had been made citizens of france--france the redeemed and newborn! yess with mackintosh, franklin, hamilton, jefferson and washington, he had been elected a citizen of france. with these great men he hailed the french revolution as the dawn of god's millennium. he had hurried to paris, urged by the same deep love of man that accompanied him in the darkest hours of the american revolution, and there, there pleading for the traitor-king, alone in that breathless hall he stood, the author-hero, thomas paine, pleading--even amid that sea of scowling faces--for the life of king louis."--_george lippard._ "in that maelstrom of thought, in that pandemonium of words, in that whirlwind of passion, pleading for the life of the king, thomas paine, not counting his own life, well knowing the consequences of his act, thomas paine stood there and pleaded that the life of the king might be spared."--_dr. j. e. roberts._ a. f. bertrand de moleville (french minister of state): "it must be recorded to the eternal shame of this assembly, that thomas paine... proved himself the wisest, the most humane, the boldest--in a word, the most innocent among them." victor hugo: "thomas paine, an american and merciful." "when tidings came of the king's trial and execution, whatever glimpses they [paine's adherents in england] gained of their outlawed leader showed him steadfast as a star caught in one wave and another of that turbid tide. many, alas, needed apologies, but paine required none. that one englishman, standing on the tribune for justice and humanity, amid three hundred angry frenchmen in uproar, was as sublime a sight as europe witnessed in those days."--_dr. conway._ "the rank and file followed their thomas paine with a faith that crowned heads might envy. the london men knew paine thoroughly. the treasures of the world would not draw him, nor any terrors drive him, to the side of cruelty and inhumanity. their eye was upon him. had paine, after the king's execution, despaired of the republic there might have ensued some demoralization among his followers in london. but they saw him by the side of the delivered prisoner of the bastile, brissot, an author well known in england, by the side of condorcet and others of franklin's honored circle engaged in a death struggle with the fire-breathing dragon called 'the mountain.' that was the same unswerving man they had been following, and to all accusations against the revolution their answer was--paine is still there."--_ibid._ while paine allied himself to no particular faction of the convention, his sympathies were with the girondins. lamartine says: "paine, the friend of madame roland, condorcet and brissot, had been elected by the town of calais; the girondins consulted him and placed him on the committee of surveyance." the girondins comprised, for the most part, the wisest and the best of france's legislators. had they remained in power the excesses of the revolution would, to a great extent, have been avoided. but in an evil hour the jacobins gained the ascendancy and while they ruled madness reigned supreme. the girondins were slaughtered or expelled. in one night twenty-two of them--every one a noted statesman or orator--the very flower of french manhood, "the eloquent, the young, the beautiful, the brave," as riouffe, their fellow prisoner, lovingly describes them, were taken before a jacobin tribunal and condemned to death. carlyle thus graphically and pathetically tells us how they died: "all paris is out; such a crowd as no man had seen. the death-carts, valaze's cold corpse [he had committed suicide] stretched among the yet living twenty-one, roll along. bareheaded, hands bound, in their shirt sleeves, coat flung loosely round the neck; so fare the eloquent of france; bemurmured, beshouted. to the shouts of vive la republique, some of them keep answering with counter shouts of vive la republique. others, as brissot, sit sunk in silence. at the foot of the scaffold they again strike up, with appropriate variations, the hymn of the marseilles. such an act of music; conceive it well! the yet living chant there; the chorus so rapidly wearing weak! samson's axe is rapid; one head per minute, or a little less. the chorus is wearing weak; the chorus is worn out; farewell, forevermore, ye girondins. te-deum fauchet has become silent; valaze's dead head is lopped; the sickle of the guillotine has reaped the girondins all away." "how paine loved those men--brissot, condorcet, lasource, duchatel, vergniaud, gensonne! never was man more devoted to his intellectual comrades. even across a century one may realize what it meant to him, that march of his best friends to the scaffold."--_dr. conway._ eight days after the execution of the girondins another of paine's friends, madame roland, the "inspiring soul" of the girondins--one of the greatest, one of the fairest, one of the bravest, and one of the noblest women that ever came to brighten our planet--died on the same scaffold. beautiful in life, madame roland rose to sublimity in death. standing on the scaffold, robed in white, she seemed like a lovely bride before the altar. she asked for pen and paper to record "the strange thoughts that were rising in her" as she gazed into the eyes of death. this request denied, she turned toward the statue of liberty and, with tearful eyes, exclaimed, "o liberty, what crimes are committed in thy name!" then, seeing the one who was to have preceded her to the guillotine trembling with fear, she begged and obtained permission to take his place--to die first--that she might soften the terrors of death by showing him "how easy it is to die." this is her picture--painted by carlyle: "noble white vision, with its high queenly face, its soft proud eyes, long black hair flowing down to the girdle; and as brave a heart as ever beat in woman's bosom! like a white grecian statue, serenely complete, she shines in that black wreck of things;--long memorable." "what with the arrestations and flights paine found himself, in june, almost alone. in the convention he was sometimes the solitary figure left on the plain, where but now sat the brilliant statesmen of france. they, his beloved friends, have started in procession towards the guillotine, for even flight must end there; daily others are pressed into their ranks; his own summons, he feels, is only a question of a few weeks or days."--_dr. conway._ madame roland died in november; paine was imprisoned in december. dictionary of religious knowledge: "here [trial of louis xvi] his honorable moderation won the enmity of robespierre, who marked him for a victim." scheaf's religious encyclopedia: "he had the courage to vote against the execution of louis xvi., and thus incurred the anger of robespierre, who threw him into prison." chambers' encyclopedia of english literature: "he offended the robespierre faction, and in [december , ], possibly by the procurement of the american minister, gouverneur morris--who disliked the french revolution and the alliance between the new republics--he was imprisoned." col. thomas w. higginson: "they urged him (he was in personal danger) to go back to america, the country he had served so long. 'go there,' they said; 'it is your country,' 'no,' he said, 'for the time, this is my country.'... so said thomas paine, and the doors of the bastile closed around him." rev. john w. chadwick: "a prisoner deserted by the young republic at whose birth he had assisted so efficiently, his life in jeopardy for the humanity of his opinions." morning advertiser (england, feb. , ): "his arrest was a species of triumph to all the tyrants on earth. his papers had been examined, and far from finding any dangerous propositions the committee had traced only the characters of that burning zeal for liberty--of that eloquence of nature and philosophy--and of those principles of public morality which had through life procured him the hatred of despots and the love of his fellow citizens." "his arrest and imprisonment, without charges preferred or even the pretense of crime, were acts of perfidy without a parallel except in the history of the french revolution."--_hon. e. b. washburne_. major w. jackson (and other americans in paris): "as a countryman of ours, as a man above all so dear to the americans; who like ourselves are earnest friends of liberty, we ask you in the name of that goddess cherished by the only two republics of the world, to give back thomas paine to his brethren." achille audibert: "a friend of mankind is groaning in chains--thomas paine.... but for robespierre's villainy the friend of man would now be free." at the beginning of the revolution robespierre was recognized as one of the most moderate and humane of men. in the national assembly he advocated the abolition of the death penalty. describing his advent to leadership, paine's biographer says: "mirabeau was on his deathbed, and paine witnessed that historic procession, four miles long, which bore the orator to his shrine.... with others he strained his eyes to see the coming man; with others he sees formidable danton glaring at lafayette; and presently sees advancing softly between them the sentimental, philanthropic--robespierre." m. danton: "what thou hast done for the happiness and liberty of thy country i have in vain attempted to do for mine. they are sending us to the scaffold." "it was a strange scene; these two constitution makers, paine and danton, and for the last time in the prison of the luxembourg, both equally destined for the scaffold."--_hon. e. b. washburne_. danton was taken to the guillotine; paine, by mistake, was left. the manner of paine's escape, as related by carlyle, was as follows: "the tumbrils move on. but in this set of tumbrils there are two other things notable: one notable person; and one want of a notable person. the notable person is lieu-tenant-general loiserelles, a nobleman by birth and by nature; laying down his life for his son. in the prison of saint-lazare, the night before last, hurrying to the grate to hear the death-list read, he caught the name of his son. the son was asleep at the moment. 'i am loiserelles,' cried the old man.... the want of the notable person, again, is that of deputy paine! paine has set in the luxembourg since january; and seemed forgotten; but fouquier had pricked him at last. the turnkey, list in hand, is marking with chalk the outer doors of to-morrow's fournee. paine's outer door happened to be open, turned back on the wall; the turnkey marked it on the side next him, and hurried on; another turnkey came and shut it; no chalkmark now visible, the fournee went without paine. paine's life lay not there." in a letter to washington, paine thus narrates the inhuman slaughter of his fellow-prisoners, from whose fate he so narrowly escaped: "the state of things in the prisons [for over four months] was a continued scene of horror. no man could count upon life for twenty-four hours. to such a pitch of rage and suspicion were robespierre and his committee arrived, that it seemed as if they feared to leave a man to live. scarcely a night passed in which ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty or more were not taken out of the prison, carried before a pretended tribunal in the morning, and guillotined before night. one hundred and sixty-nine were taken out of the luxembourg one night in july, and one hundred and sixty of them guillotined, of whom i know i was to have been one. a list of two hundred more, according to the report in the prison, was preparing a few days before robespierre fell. in this last list i have good reason to believe i was included." concerning this reign of terror guizot says: "two thousand four hundred prisoners were registered in paris on the books of the prison, at the moment of the deaths of the girondins; three [four] months later, on the st of march, , the number reached six thousand; on the d of may, eight thousand unfortunate persons waited for death. from june th to july th, two thousand, two hundred and eighty-five perished on the scaffold." (_history of france, vol. vi, pp. , _.) menzies says: "the queen, marie antoinette, her sister, madame elizabeth, bailly, the girondin chiefs, the duke of orleans, general custine, madame roland, lavoisier, malesherbes, and a thousand other illustrious heads fell by the guillotine." "the light of burning rafters flashed luridly over scenes of blood; soon all that is grotesque, or terrible, or loathsome in murder, was enacted in the streets of paris. the lantern posts bore their ghastly fruit; the streets flowed with crimson rivers, the life-blood of ten thousand hearts, down even to the waters of the seine. lafayette and paine and all the heroes were gone from the councils of france, but in their place, aye, in the place of poetry, enthusiasm and eloquence, spoke a mighty orator--king guillotine."--_george lippard_. with danton died another of paine's cherished friends--hérault de sechelles. hérault, president of the national assembly, and, for a time, president of the national convention, was the first to welcome paine to paris when he came to take his seat in the convention. he was physically and intellectually one of france's most magnificent men. he was a ripe scholar and a superb orator. he possessed great wealth and a most fascinating address. he and paine and danton had from the first been members of the convention; they had served together on the committee of the constitution, hérault as paine's suppliant, and they had occupied the same prison, the prison set apart for the most illustrious victims of the revolution. i quote from washburne. i desire to present one of the ten thousand tragic and pathetic scenes which compose this mighty and immortal drama. "tragedy walks hand in hand with history and the eyes of glory are wet with tears:" "more victims were now demanded, and, at this time, the oldest children of the revolution were claimed. they were the 'dantonists,' among whom was included hérault.... hérault was unmarried. when imprisoned at the luxembourg awaiting his trial he appeared sad and preoccupied. on arriving at the guillotine, on the place de la revolution on the day of his execution, all his looks were turned toward the hotel of the garde-meuble, hoping evidently to exchange glances with one with whom were all his thoughts at that supreme moment. behind the shutters, half closed, was a beautiful woman who sent to the condemned a last adieu and waved a last sigh of tenderness to the dying man: _je t'aime_ (i love thee). it was a beautiful day of the springtime, and the crowd that had assembled to witness the execution of danton, the great apostle of the revolution, and his associates was enormous. the splendid figure of hérault de sechelles seemed to take new life, and the serenity of courage replaced the inquietude and sadness which had settled upon him. the first one to mount the scaffold, he showed himself calm, resolute and unmoved. as he was about to lay his head under the knife, he wished to present his cheek to the cheek of danton [their hands were bound], as a last farewell. the aids of samson, the executioner, prevented it. 'imbeciles!' indignantly exclaimed danton, 'it will be but a moment before our heads will meet in the basket in spite of you.'" "declared an outlaw by the same convention which he had so long used as an instrument of his private vengeance, robespierre was killed like a dog.... the death of paine's mortal enemy saved his life."--_ibid._ madame lafayette: "the news of your being set at liberty,... has given me a moment's consolation in the midst of this abyss of misery." madame lafayette, like thomas paine, was a prisoner, daily expecting death. her mother, grandmother and sister, prominent members of the french nobility, all died together on the scaffold. lafayette himself was at this time confined in an austrian dungeon. glorious was the freedom born of the french revolution, but terrible was the travail. daniel coit gilman, ll.d.: "his [minister monroe's] effort to secure the release of thomas paine from imprisonment was a noteworthy transaction." "released from prison at monroe's intercession."--_richard hildreth._ stanislaus murray hamilton: "paine was liberated by the committee of general surety in consequence of monroe's assertion of his american citizenship, and demand for his release; but he had suffered an imprisonment of ten months and nine days before monroe's generous and manly aid reached him." we owe a debt of gratitude to james monroe. he rescued paine from prison and from death. when paine was thought to be dying, as a result of his imprisonment, the monroes tenderly cared for him in their own home and nursed him back to life and health. washington's apparent neglect of paine, which for nearly a century rested as a deep stain upon an otherwise fair name, filled paine with astonishment and grief and caused him to write that bitter letter of reproach. it is now known that this seeming indifference of washington was due to the treachery of monroe's predecessor, gouverneur morris. a. outram sherman: "it is a long story, how his secret instructions conflicted with paine's hearty and open love for america's ally, how morris virtually acquiesced in his imprisonment by robespierre as a foreigner, how morris misled washington to believe he had demanded paine's release as an american, and how he misled paine to believe that washington had given no directions that paine be so reclaimed." nelson's encyclopedia, in its article on paine, says: "it seems clear that his imprisonment was in part the result of a discreditable intrigue to which gouverneur morris, the american minister, was a party." madison, in a letter to jefferson, dated january , , referring to paine's letter to washington, says: "it appears that the neglect to claim him as an american citizen when confined by robespierre, or even to interfere in any way whatever in his favor, has filled him with an indelible rancor against the president, to whom it appears he has written on the subject. his letter to me is in the style of a dying one, and we hear that he is since dead of the abscess in his side, brought on by his imprisonment." referring to his letter to washington, dr. conway says: "it was the natural outcry of an ill and betrayed man to one whom we now know to have been also betrayed. its bitterness and wrath measure the greatness of the love that was wounded." rev. eugene rodman shippen: "that he was estranged from washington through the malicious representations of others is one of the sad episodes of our national life." m. thibaudeau: "it yet remains for the convention to perform an act of justice. i reclaim one of the most zealous defenders of liberty--thomas paine. my reclamation is for a man who has honored his age by his energy in defense of the rights of humanity, and who is so gloriously distinguished by his part in the american revolution....i demand that he be recalled to the bosom of this convention." "he was unanimously restored to his seat in the convention."--_international encyclopedia._ samuel p. putnam: "paine was self-centered. he could stand alone, like a mighty rock, with seas and storms breaking upon him. not mirabeau, not danton, shone with a more brilliant genius, nor towered with more rugged strength and grandeur. "paine represented the immortal part of the revolution.... voltaire emphasized justice, rousseau emphasized liberty; paine emphasized both liberty and justice." one of the strongest proofs of paine's transcendent greatness is the fact that while nearly all the leaders of the revolution--even danton--were swept from their moorings by this volcanic upheaval, paine's career throughout was characterized by wisdom, moderation, and a moral courage that was truly sublime. thomas curtis: "when france shall lift her banners fair, and brighter hopes shall dawn once more, in counting up her jewels rare she'll not forget the days of yore. for when the name of lafayette shall summon others in its train, there's one she never will forget-- the author-hero, thomas paine." prof. isaac f. russell, ll.d.: "paine was one of the immortals who worked for liberty in three countries, america, france and england." frederick may holland: "he sought to establish the rights of man in france and england as well as in america. in two of these three countries his work seemed almost fruitless a hundred years ago; but the nineteenth century has given him as complete a victory in england and france as he achieved in the united states. these three great nations now stand side by side as the bulwarks of freedom." hon. george w. julian: "if any man among the illustrious characters' of 'the times that tried men's souls' is to be singled out as the real father of american democracy, it is thomas paine." lord beaconsfield (to gladstone): "how does your reform government differ from that of thomas paine, except that the sovereign is left in name?" "today the student of political history may find... in paine's ['rights of man'] the living constitution of great britain."--dr. conway. alexander dumas: "it is not the liberty of france alone that i [dr. gilbert, i. e., paine] dream of; it is the liberty of the whole world." alice hubbard: "england, france and america were made more noble, more intelligent, more civilized, by the work thomas paine did for each country and for all countries." t. b. wakeman: "the father of republics." "all these glories of three great peoples were obtained by revolutions that were fought by a war of feelings and thoughts before they came to arms; and in that primal war of thoughts and words thomas paine was the most known of men and the actual leader--the author hero." "the republic--as we now all use that word--the true modern republic, in and by which government based upon the consent of all, and administered by the cooperation of all, for the protection and benefit of all, was not known among men until it was originated by thomas paine." "the so-called 'republics' of antiquity and the middle ages were only oligarchies resting upon the slavery or serfdom of the masses, and in fact the reverse of republics." national encyclopedia (england): "paine, from his first starting in public life, was a republican, uniformly consistent and apparently sincere." "the democratic movement of the last eighty years, be it a finality or only a phase of progress toward a more perfect state, is the grand historic fact of modern times, and paine's name is intimately connected with it."--_atlantic monthly, july, _. "after contributing by one publication to the establishment of a transatlantic republic in north america, he introduced, with astonishing effect the doctrines of democratic government into the first states of europe."--_edward baines, ll.d._ "'invent printing,' wrote carlyle, 'and you invent democracy.' not quite so! invent a sort of writing which when printed shall be understood by the people, then you invent democracy. and this, earlier and better than any other man, is what thomas paine did."--_the nation, london_. "as the champion of popular power in opposition to the abuses of monarchical government, paine will always stand pre-eminent in the world."--_william cobbett._ mrs. marilla m. ricker: "thomas paine dreamed the most glorious dream of human freedom that ever enchanted the mind of man; fairer and sweeter than lay under the broken marbles of greece, brighter and better than was buried with the dead eagles of rome." "paine stands between two epochs: the epoch of kings and the epoch of man. to the king he said, 'the night is coming'; to man he said, 'the day is dawning.'" "age of reason" and recantation calumny. l. k. washburn: "paine knew that he was marked for death. what did he do? did he try to escape? no! he sat down and wrote the 'age of reason.'" paine found the world cursed with two great evils, kingcraft and priestcraft, twin vultures that from the earliest ages have fed upon the vitals of humanity. in his "common sense" and "rights of man" kingcraft was dealt the deadliest blows that it has yet received. he had resolved to strike a blow at priestcraft before he died. seeing imprisonment and death approaching he hurried to his task. the first part of his immortal work was finished six hours before the summons came. the second part, it is generally believed, was written during his confinement in the luxembourg. and here, undoubtedly, it was planned and at least a part of it composed. it was probably finished, and it was published, while he lived with james monroe, after his release from prison. this, briefly, is the history of the conception and birth of this, the last and greatest of paine's three great intellectual children. "just before his arrest he had finished the first part of the 'age of reason.'... while in prison he worked upon the second part."--_international encyclopedia._ encyclopedia americana: "it [first part] was published in london and in paris in . on the fall of robespierre he was released, and in published at paris the second part of the 'age of reason.'" dr. francois lanthenas: "i delivered to merlin de thionville a copy of the last work of t. paine, formerly our colleague.... i undertook its translation before the revolution [reign of terror] against priests, and it was published in french about the same time." people's cyclopedia: "during his imprisonment he wrote the 'age of reason' (second part) against atheism and against christianity, and in favor of deism." "a second part, written during his ten months' imprisonment, which was published after his release, represents the deism of the th century."--_encyclopedia britannica._ mcclintock and strong's biblical, theological and ecclesiastical cyclopedia: "the religion which paine [in his 'age of reason'] proposed to substitute for christianity was the belief in one god as revealed by science; in immortality as the continuance of conscious existence; in the natural equality of man; and in the obligation of justice and mercy to one's neighbor." rufus rockwell wilson: "of all epoch-making books the one most persistently misrepresented and misunderstood." w. m. van der weyde: "the total knowledge possessed by many persons concerning paine is that 'he was an atheist'--which he was not." hon. william j. gaynor: "what a strange thing it is that that extraordinary man was so long set down as an atheist. some people still think that he was an atheist. and yet no man ever had a fuller belief in the existence of god, or a greater reliance upon him." washington times: "it is not at all difficult to find out whether or not thomas paine was an atheist. all one has to do to discover his opinion on the subject is to go to any bookstore or circulating library, ask for his best known work, the 'age of reason,' and read the first page:"'i believe in one god, and no more; and i hope for happiness beyond this life.'" "he was, in fact, no more an atheist than william penn, roger williams or ralph waldo emerson."--_new york world._ in his "age of reason" the recognition of a supreme being is made more than two hundred times. rev. daniel freeman: "there has never been a believer in god if thomas paine was not a believer in god." rev. charles alfred martin (roman catholic): "thomas paine while not a christian, was not an atheist. his biographers declare that he penned his most famous book to stem with its deism the tide of atheism which flooded france at the time of the revolution." major j. weed cory: "thomas paine was not an atheist. he wrote against atheism, and trinitarians will soon be appealing to his works to prove the existence of a god." henry c. wright: "thomas paine had a clear idea of god. this being embodied his highest conception of truth, love, wisdom, mercy, liberty and power." "paine was accursed as an atheist and hunted and maligned by institutional religion for writing a book in defense of god."--_w. m. van der weyde._ henry rowley: "his 'age of reason' was written as much in defense of god as in opposition to the church. he could not believe that god was guilty of the cruelties and crimes which the writers of the bible attributed to him." "the 'age of reason' was the protest of a highly moral man against the doings of a deeply immoral god." lucy n. colman: "thomas paine's god was justice." bishop watson: "there is a philosophical sublimity in some of your ideas when speaking of the creator of the universe." the work of orthodox religious teachers, unwittingly to many, is confined chiefly to the propagation of fictions and the suppression of facts. the christian who has been surprised to learn that paine was not an atheist, may be equally surprised to learn that his great compeers, washington, jefferson and franklin, were not christians, but like him, deists. washington, who has been claimed by the episcopal church, was like paine a deist: his wife was a communicant of this church. during his eight years incumbency of the presidency, and during the revolution, and at other times when mrs. washington was with him in philadelphia, he attended, but not regularly, the episcopal churches of which bishop white, father of the episcopal church of america, and the rev. dr. abercrombie were rectors. when bishop white was asked if washington had ever communed he replied: "truth requires me to say that gen. washington never received the communion in the churches of which i am the parochial minister"--_memoir of bishop white,_ pp. , . the _western christian advocate_ accepts this testimony as conclusive. it says: "bishop white seems to have had more intimate relations with washington than any clergyman of his time. his testimony outweighs any amount of influential argumentation on the question." dr. abercrombie says: "on sacramental sundays, gen. washington, immediately after the desk and pulpit services went out with the greater part of the congregation--always leaving mrs. washington with the other communicants."--_sprague's annals of the american pulpit_, vol. v., p. . fearing the effect of washington's example dr. abercrombie administered a mild reproof. washington, he says, "never afterwards came on the morning of sacramental sunday."--_ibid_. regarding washington's conduct in virginia, the rev. beverly tucker, d.d., of the episcopal church, says: "the general was accustomed on communion sundays to leave the church with her [nellie custis, his step-granddaughter], sending back the carriage for mrs. washington." the rev. william jackson, who was at a later, period, rector of this church, conducted an exhaustive search to discover if possible some evidence of washington once having communed. his search was futile. he says: "i find no one who ever communed with him." early in the last century the rev. e. d. neill, a prominent clergyman of the episcopal church, contributed to the episcopal _recorder_, the organ of the episcopal church, an article on washington's religion. regarding washington's church membership he says: "the president was not a communicant, notwithstanding all the pretty stories to the contrary, and after the close of the sermon on sacramental sundays, had fallen into the habit of retiring from the church while his wife remained and communed." the foregoing testimony in disproof of the claim that washington was a communicant, conclusive as it is, is not needed. his own testimony is sufficient. to dr. abercrombie he declared that "_he had never been a communicant._"--sprague's annals of the american pulpit, vol. v., p. . during the presidential campaign of , the christian union, at that time the leading church paper of this country, made the frank admission that of the nineteen men who up to that time had held the office of president of the united states, not one, with the possible exception of washington, had been a member of a christian church. and washington, as we have seen, cannot be made an exception. "there is nothing to show that he [washington] was ever a member of the church."--_st. louis globe._ "he [washington] belonged to no church."--_western christian advocate._ "in all the voluminous writings of general washington, the holy name of jesus christ is never once written."--_catholic world_. "in several thousand letters the name of jesus christ never appears, and it is notably absent from his last will."--_general a. w. greeley in ladies' home journal for april, ._ "it has been confidently stated to me that he actually refused spiritual aid when it was proposed to send for a clergyman."--_robert dale owen_. the rev. dr. ashbel green, president of princeton college, signer of the declaration of independence, member of congress, and chaplain to congress during washington's administration, says: "like nearly all the founders of the republic, he [washington] was not a christian, but a deist." "he had no belief at all in the divine origin of the bible." during jackson's administration the rev. dr. wilson, a noted presbyterian divine of albany, preached a famous sermon on "the religion of the presidents," which was published and had a wide circulation. dr. wilson showed that of the seven men who up to that time had been elected president, washington, adams, jefferson, madison, monroe, john quincy adams, and jackson, not one had professed a belief in christianity. in his search for evidence he visited the washingtons' old pastor, dr. abercrombie. in answer to dr. wilson's inquiry concerning washington's religious belief dr. abercrombie's emphatic answer was, "sir, washington was a deist." as a result of his investigation dr. wilson says: "i think anyone who will candidly do as i have done, will come to the conclusion that he [washington] was a deist and nothing more." everyone is familiar with the story of washington's praying at valley forge. this is a pure fiction. intelligent christians reject it. the rev. e. d. neill, of the episcopal church, whose father's uncle owned the building occupied by washington at valley forge, says: "with the capacious and comfortable house at his disposal, it is hardly possible that the shy, silent, cautious washington should leave such retirement and enter the leafless woods, in the vicinity of the winter encampment of an army and engage in audible prayer."--_episcopal recorder_. alluding to this subject, the rev. dr. minot j. savage, in a sermon, said: "the pictures that represent him on his knees in the winter forest at valley forge are silly caricatures." dr. conway, who was employed to edit washington's letters, and who is considered one of the best authorities on his domestic life, says: "many clergymen visited him, but they were never invited to hold family prayers, and no grace was ever said at table." washington's library contained the deistical works of paine, voltaire and other freethinkers. when the french freethinker volney visited this country he was the guest of washington. "his services as a vestryman had no special significance from a religious standpoint. the political affairs of a virginia county were then directed by the vestry, which, having the power to elect its own members, was an important instrument of the oligarchy of virginia."--_general a. w. greeley in ladies' home journal._ george wilson, whose ancestors occupied the pew next to washington's in virginia, says.: "at that time the vestry was the county court, and in order to have a hand in managing the affairs of the county, in which his large property lay, regulating the levy of taxes, etc., washington had to be a vestryman." jefferson was a more radical freethinker than paine, as the following passages from his writings will show. my quotations are from randolph's edition of jefferson's works, published in . in a letter to his nephew and ward, peter carr, while at school, jefferson writes: "read the bible as you would livy or tacitus... fix reason firmly in her seat, and call to her tribunal every fact, every opinion. question with boldness even the existence of a god."--_jefferson's works, vol. ii, p. ._ the god of the old testament, the god that christians worship, jefferson pronounces "a being of terrific character--cruel, vindictive, capricious, and unjust."--_works, vol. iv, p. ._ in the four gospels, which christians consider the most authentic and the most important books of the bible, jefferson discovers what he terms "a groundwork of vulgar ignorance, of things impossible, of superstitions, fanaticisms, and fabrications."--_ibid._ "among the sayings and discourses imputed to him [jesus] by his biographers [matthew, mark, luke and john], i find many passages of fine imagination, correct morality, and of the most lovely benevolence; and others, again, of so much ignorance, of so much absurdity, so much untruth and imposture, as to pronounce it impossible that such contradictions should have proceeded from the same being. i separate, therefore, the gold from the dross, restore to him the former, and leave the latter to the stupidity of some and the roguery of others of his disciples."--_works, vol. iv. p. ._ jefferson made a compilation of the finer alleged sayings of jesus which have been published and paraded as proof of jefferson's acceptance of christ. for the man jesus, jefferson, like paine, ingersoll and other freethinkers, had the greatest admiration, but for the christ jesus of orthodox christianity he had the greatest contempt. "of this band of dupes and impostors, paul was the great corypheus, and first corrupter of the doctrines of jesus."--_vol. iv. p. ._ "it is too late in the day for men of sincerity to pretend they believe in the platonic mysticism that three are one and one is three... but this constitutes the craft, the power and profit of the priests. sweep away their gossamer fabrics of fictitious religion and they would catch no more flies."--_ibid, p. ._ "the christian priesthood, finding the doctrines of christ leveled to every understanding, and too plain to need explanation, saw in the mysticisms of plato materials with which they might build up an artificial system, which might, from its indistinctness, admit everlasting controversy, give employment for their order and introduce it to profit, power and preeminence."--_ibid, p. ._ "the hocus-pocus phantasm of a god, like another cerberus, with one body and three heads had its birth and growth in the blood of thousands and thousands of martyrs."--_ibid, p. ._ "the day will come when the mystical generation of jesus, by the supreme being as his father in the womb of a virgin, will be classed with the fable of the generation of minerva in the brain of jupiter."--_ibid, p. ._ "in our richmond there is much fanaticism, but chiefly among the women. they have their night meetings and praying parties, where, attended by their priests and sometimes by a henpecked husband, they pour forth the effusions of their love to jesus in terms as amatory and carnal as their modesty would permit to a mere earthly lover."--_ibid, p. ._ "jefferson occupied his sundays at monticello in writing letters to paine (they are unpublished i believe, but i have seen them) in favor of the probabilities that christ and his twelve apostles were only personifications of the sun and the twelve signs of the zodiac."--_dr. conway._ the correspondence of jefferson and paine would fill a volume. in these letters jefferson unbosomed himself and gave expression to his most radical sentiments. randolph's edition of jefferson's works was published twenty years after paine's death. by this time the orthodox ghouls had about completed their work and these letters, although containing some of jefferson's most mature thoughts and best writings, remained unpublished. in a letter to dr. woods, jefferson says: "i have recently been examining all the known superstitions of the world, and do not find in our particular superstition [christianity] one redeeming feature. they are all alike, founded upon fables and mythologies." "millions of innocent men, women and children, since the introduction of christianity, have been burnt, tortured, fined, and imprisoned; yet we have not advanced one inch toward uniformity. what has been the effect of coercion? to make one half the world fools, and the other half hypocrites."--_jefferson's notes on virginia._ writing to jefferson on the th of may, , john adams, giving expression to the matured conviction of eighty-two years, says: "this would be the best of all possible worlds if there were no religion in it." to this radical declaration jefferson replied: "if by religion we are to understand sectarian dogmas in which no two of them agree, then your declaration on that hypothesis is just, 'that this would be the best of worlds, if there were no religion in it.'"--_works, vol. iv. p. ._ writing to john adams just before his death jefferson makes the following declaration of his belief: "i am a materialist." "a question has been raised as to thomas jefferson's religious views. there need be no question, for he has settled that himself. he was an infidel, or, as he chose to term it, a materialist. by his own account he was as heterodox as colonel inger-soll, and in some respects even more so."--_chicago tribune._ alluding to jefferson's belief the rev. dr. wilson in his sermon on "the religion of the presidents," previously quoted, says: "whatever difference of opinion there may have been at the time [of his election], it is now rendered certain that he was a deist.... since his death, and the publication of randolph, [jefferson's works], there remains not the shadow of doubt of his infidel principles. if any man thinks there is, let him look at the book itself. i do not recommend the purchase of it to any man, for it is one of the most wicked and dangerous books extant." "in religion he was a freethinker; in morals pure and unspotted."--_benson j. lossing, in his "lives of the signers of the declaration of independence!'_ "surely, christians, your cause must be growing desperate, when, to sustain it, you must needs claim for its support so bitter an enemy as thomas jefferson--a man who affirmed that he was a materialist; a man who recognized in your religion only "our particular superstition," a superstition without "one redeeming feature;" a man who divided the christian world into two classes--"hypocrites and fools;" a man who asserted that your bible is a book abounding with "vulgar ignorance;" a man who termed your father, son, and holy ghost a "hocus-pocus phantasm;" a man who denounced your god as "cruel, vindictive, and unjust;" a man who intimated that your savior was "a man of illegitimate birth;" a man who declared his disciples, including your oracle paul, to be a "band of dupes and impostors and who characterized your modern priesthood, of all denominations, as cannibal priests" and an "abandoned confederacy" against public happiness."--_the fathers of our republic._ franklin rejected christianity when a boy and remained a rationalist to the end of his life. "some volumes against deism fell into my hands. they were said to be the substance of sermons preached at boyle's lecture. it happened that they produced on me an effect precisely the reverse of what was intended by the writers; for the arguments of the deists, which were cited in order to be refuted, appealed to me much more forcibly than the refutation itself. in a word i soon became a thorough deist."--_franklin's autobiography._ writing to ezra stiles, president of yale college, when he was eighty-four, he says: "i have with most of the dissenters in england, doubts as to his [christ's] divinity." "by heaven we understand a state of happiness, infinite in degree and eternal in duration. i can do nothing to deserve such a reward.... i have not the vanity to think i deserve it, the folly to expect, or the ambition to desire it."--_franklin's works, vol. vii., p. ._ "i wish it [christianity] were more productive of good works than i have generally seen it. i mean real good works, works of kindness, charity, mercy, and public spirit, not holy-day keeping, sermon hearing and reading, performing church ceremonies, or making long prayers, filled with flatteries and compliments, despised even by wise men, and much less capable of pleasing the deity."--_ibid._ "nowadays we have scarcely a little parson that does not think it the duty of every man within his reach to sit under his petty ministration, and that whoever omits this offends god. to such i wish more humility."--_franklin's works, vol. vii. pp. , ._ "the government of the united states is not in any sense founded on the christian religion," affirmed washington (treaty with tripoli). "keep the church and the state forever separate," said grant (des moines speech). and yet, in spite of this declaration and this admonition religious liberty has been ignored and a practical union of church and state has been maintained--the exemption of ecclesiastical property from taxation, the employment of chaplains, appropriations for sectarian purposes, religious services, including the use of the bible, in our public schools, the appointment of religious festivals, the judicial oath and the enforced observance of sunday as a sabbath. concerning these and similar privileges of his time and of our time, franklin says: "i think they were invented not so much to secure religion as the emoluments of it. when a religion is good i conceive it will support itself; and when it does not support itself, and god does not take care to support it, so that its professors are obliged to call for help of the civil power, 'tis a sign, i apprehend, of its being a bad one."--_franklin's works, vol. viii., p. ._ theodore parker, in his "four historic americans," writes as follows concerning franklin's belief: "if belief in the miraculous revelation of the old testament and the new is required to make a man religious, then franklin had no religion at all. it would be an insult to say that he believed in the popular theology of his time, or of ours, for i find not a line from his pen indicating any such belief." the eminent statesman john hay, in an article on "franklin in france," published after his death in the _century magazine_ for january, , ascribes much of franklin's popularity in france to his espousal of freethought. he says: "franklin became the fashion of the season. for the court dabbled a little in liberal ideas. so powerful was the vast impulse of freethought that then influenced the mind of france--that susceptible french mind, that always answers like the wind harp to the breath of every true human aspiration--that even the highest classes had caught the infection of liberalism." among franklin's most intimate companions in france mr. hay mentions voltaire, d'alembert, d'holbach, and condorcet, four of france's most radical freethinkers. dr. franklin and dr. priestley were intimate friends. after franklin's death dr. priestley wrote: "it is much to be lamented that a man of franklin's general good character and great influence should have been an unbeliever in christianity, and also have done as much as he did to make others unbelievers."--_priestley's autobiography, p. ._ this great man was himself denounced as an infidel. he was a unitarian, and was mobbed and driven from england on account of his heretical opinions and his sympathy with the french revolution. franklin's infidelity must have been very pronounced to have provoked the censure of dr. priestley. there has been published a religious tract, entitled "don't unchain the tiger," which purports to be a letter from franklin to paine, advising him not to publish his "age of reason." the only thing needed to cause a rejection of this pious fiction is a knowledge of the fact that franklin had been dead nearly four years when the first page of paine's book was written. besides, the opinions expressed in this book were the opinions of franklin. paine's biographer, dr. conway, says: "paine's deism differed from franklin's only in being more fervently religious." franklin's biographer, james parton, says: "it ['age of reason'] contains not a position which franklin, john adams, jefferson and theodore parker would have dissented from." the rev. john snyder, of st. louis, says: "paine shared the religious convictions of washington, adams, jefferson, hamilton and franklin." concerning the belief of these and other noted men, the rev. dr. swing, of chicago, says: "voltaire, bolingbroke, pitt, burke, washington, lafayette, jefferson, paine and franklin moved along in a wonderful unity of belief, both political and religious." "paine wrote the 'age of reason' in paris some years after franklin was dead.... the letter called the letter of franklin to paine bears no address or date or signature. it may not have been written by franklin to anybody. the evangelists who cite this letter intend to convey the impression that the 'tiger' means unbelief. the indication is that the writer had in his mind the beast of fanaticism and detraction. that tiger was let loose by the 'age of reason' against its author, and the animal and its whelps are still with us."--_george e. macdonald._ another franklin myth is that concerning franklin's motion for prayers in the convention that framed our constitution. the convention, it is claimed, had labored for weeks without accomplishing anything when, at franklin's suggestion, its sessions were opened with prayer, after which its work was speedily performed. while franklin's proposal was not inconsistent with his deistic belief it was not adopted. there was not a prayer offered from the opening to the close of the convention. franklin himself says: "the convention, except three or four persons, thought prayers unnecessary." washington, jefferson, franklin and paine were four of the greatest and noblest of men. all held substantially the same religious opinions. all were deists. all rejected christianity. yet washington, jefferson and franklin are held in grateful remembrance, while paine has been reviled as no other man has been reviled. how do we account for this? paine's mere rejection of christianity does not account for it. the "age of reason" was suppressed by the government in england. in america it could not be suppressed by law. the only way the clergy could suppress it here was to resort to slander, to cover its author's name with obloquy and make him appear so vile that no respectable bookseller would dare to sell it and no respectable reader dare to read it. "in england it was easy for paine's chief antagonist, the bishop of llandaff [watson] to rebuke paine's strong language, when his lordship could sit serenely in the house of peers with knowledge that his opponent was answered with handcuffs for every englishman who sold his book. but in america slander had to take the place of handcuffs."--_dr. conway._ henry a. beers: "his book was denounced from a hundred pulpits and copies of it were carefully locked away from the sight of 'the young,' whose religious beliefs it might undermine." james b. elliott, of philadelphia, says he well remembers the "time when it was impossible to obtain the 'age of reason' except under cover of the greatest secrecy and when he who was known to have read it was shunned as a dangerous person." hugh o. pentecost: "paine's offense was not that he was an infidel, but that he made his meaning so clear that the common people could become infidels, too." "it is true that paine was republican and deist, an enemy of kings and churches. but many men of great and undimmed honor held the same principles: washington, jefferson and franklin and others of the 'fathers' were deists, and in england that creed was even fashionable in certain aristocratic quarters. paine's real sin was not that he preached deism in the land of bolingbroke, hume and gibbon,... but that he succeeded for the first time in inoculating the people with his heresies."--_the nation, london._ "mimnermus," an english writer, says: "there were critics of the bible, it is true, before paine's day, but they were mainly scholars whose works were not easily understood by ordinary folk. paine himself, a man of genius, had sprung from the people, and he spoke their tongue and made their thoughts articulate." "paine held that the people at large had the right of access to all new ideas, and he wrote so as to reach the people. hence, his book must be suppressed."--_prof. j. b. bury, ll.d._ john s. crosby: "the reason why his writings are excluded from our colleges is not on account of what he said about the _prophets_, but for fear that the realization of his ideas may diminish the _profits_." "recognizing the magic influence that a great name carries with it, the clergy have inscribed in the christian roster the names of hundreds who were total disbelievers in their dogmas. as the venders of quack nostrums attach the forged certificates of distinguished individuals to their worthless drugs, to make them sell, so these theological venders present the manufactured endorsements of the great to make their nostrums popular. washington, jefferson and franklin have all been denominated christians, not because they were such, for they were not, but because of the influence that attaches to their names. paine's opposition to priestcraft was too pronounced and too well known to claim him as an adherent of their faith, and so they have sought to destroy his influence by destroying his good name. not only this, knowing the prejudice that has prevailed against atheism, they have misrepresented his theological opinions and declared him an atheist."--_the fathers of our republic._ "this injustice to him was perpetrated in defense of a system that does not care, because it does not dare to have its credentials and foundation critically examined; in other words, paine has been maligned for more than a century by those interested in keeping veiled the image; he did what he could--and it was much--to uncover to the gaze of the world."--_e. c. walker._ william m. salter, a. m.: "it is to the shame of religious prejudice in our country that he is not freely and gladly given his place alongside of franklin and washington." "the rankest ingratitude the american people have ever exhibited has been that of the systematic attempt to blot the name of paine from the memory of succeeding generations, and to allow no historical mention in the annals of the nation which he greatly and gloriously helped to found. but with the destruction of every error truth rises clear and bright. the time will come when his picture will be as familiar to school children as those of his great contemporaries, washington, jefferson and franklin."--. _j. b. wilson._ pretended reviewers of paine, including the authors of many encyclopedic articles on paine, writers who, for the most part, never read the "age of reason," characterize it as crude and superficial, declare its arguments to be weak and fallacious and its author to have had little or no influence in changing the religious opinions of his time. it is a sufficient answer to these critics to cite the fact that from thirty to forty elaborate replies from christian writers followed it in rapid succession, each writer tacitly admitting that it needed answering and that all preceding efforts to answer it had been failures. paine's orthodox critics also affect to believe that his "age of reason" is no longer read, that it is an "out of print" book for which there is no demand. the fact is ever since the first london and paris editions were published in there has been a constant and widespread demand for it. millions of copies have been printed and sold during this time, and today the demand for it is greater than ever before. dr. john w. francis (referring to "age of reason"): "no work had the demand for readers comparable to that of paine." one bookseller of new york says that his sales of the "age of reason" now average more than five thousand copies a year. he is but one of many new york booksellers who sell paine's book, while new york is but one of many cities where it has an extensive sale. a chicago bookseller says that the "age of reason" is his best seller, that he sells thousands of them every year. william heaford ( ): "two large editions of forty thousand copies each will be issued of this invaluable edition of paine's great text book of biblical exegesis [by watts & co., london]." "there were sold in burma [mostly to buddhists] over ten thousand copies of the 'age of reason' last year."--_u. dhamaloka, president buddhist tract society._ arthur b. moss: "during the past fifty years hundreds of thousands of copies of the 'age of reason' have been circulated in england and america alone.... the steady circulation of this work has done more than that of any other book to undermine the faith of christians in all parts of the world." h. percy ward (formerly an english clergyman): "thomas paine's 'age of reason' gave the first shock to my faith." wilson macdonald: "i read the 'age of reason' when a boy, and i said, paine is the hero for me." susan h. wixon: "i read that book again and again, and always with increased interest. it set me to thinking more than any other bode i had ever read." sir hiram maxim: "it is indeed a very remarkable work. as a boy i read it with great care; as a man i have read it thoughtfully." james d. shaw: "of all the books ever published, i doubt if any other has ever equaled the 'age of reason' in breaking from the human mind superstition's fetters." "the effect of this pamphlet was vast."--_london times._ edwin p. whipple: "the most influential assailant of the orthodox faith was thomas paine." francis e. abbot, ph.d.: "his 'age of reason' was one of the greatest historic blows ever struck for freedom. paine's name ought to be written in letters of gold in the roll of the world's heroes." "it is still a living work, read by thousands, and carrying conviction wherever it finds an open mind."--_james f. morton, jr._ daniel webster: "mr. girard got this provision of his will ('a school unfettered by religious tenets') from paine's 'age of reason.'" paul desjardines (referring to "age of reason"): "the book in which the modern conscience first dared, without indirection and without sarcasm, to set itself up as the judge of christian tradition and laid the basis of a purified religion reduced to the only beliefs which appeared necessary as a foundation of fraternity among men." eugene m. macdonald: "the 'age of reason' is irrefutable in its arguments, in its presentation of facts, in its analysis of the bible, and absolutely convincing to fair-minded men in its conclusions. it was the forerunner of the higher criticism." "during the past thirty years we have heard much of the higher criticism; hundreds of learned men throughout christendom have been investigating the bible.... these learned men, after working on the problem for many years, have come to the exact conclusions that thomas paine arrived at so many years ago."--_sir hiram maxim._ "paine was a precursor of such men as colenso, and robertson smith, and a large host of scholars besides."--_rev. o. b. frothingham._ "it is a singular tribute to his sagacity and common sense that every material fact and conclusion stated by paine in regard to the bible has been sustained by the explorations and increased learning since his day."--_t. b. wakeman._ "upon this theological treatise is founded all modern biblical criticism."--elbert hubbard. henry frank: "there is nothing in the conclusions of the higher criticism that paine did not anticipate." "as to his anticipation of the higher criticism. that should be placed to his credit."--_w. t. stead._ henry yorke (with paine in england and france): "there is not a verse in it [the bible] that is not familiar to him." j. p. mendum: "as a critic and reviewer of the bible his 'age of reason' is unanswerable." sir leslie stephen: "paine's book announced a startling fact, against which all the flimsy collections of conclusive proofs were powerless. it amounted to a proclamation that the creed no longer satisfied the instincts of cultivated scholars. when the defenders of the old orders tried to conjure with the old charms, the magic had gone out of them. in paine's rough tones they recognized not the mere echo of coffee-house gossip, but the voice of deep popular passion. once and forever, it was announced that, for the average mass of mankind, the old creed was dead." elbert hubbard: "as paine's book 'common sense,' broke the power of great britain in america, and the 'rights of man' gave free speech and a free press to england, so did the 'age of reason' give pause to the juggernaut of orthodoxy. thomas paine was the legitimate ancestor of hosea ballou who founded the universalist church, and of theodore parker who made unitarianism in america an intellectual torch. channing, ripley,' bartol, martineau, frothingham, hale, curtis, collyer, swing, thomas, conway, leonard, savage, crapsey, yes--even emerson, and thoreau, were spiritual children, all, of thomas paine. he blazed the way and made it possible, for men to preach the sweet reasonableness of reason. he was the pioneer in a jungle of superstition." abraham lincoln became and remained a disciple of thomas paine. chicago herald (feb., ): "in , at new salem, ill., lincoln read and circulated vol-ney's 'ruins' and paine's 'age of reason,' giving to both books the sincere recommendation of his unqualified approval." col. ward h. lamon (biographer of lincoln): "he [lincoln] had made himself familiar with the writings of paine and volney--the 'ruins' of the one, and the 'age of reason' of the other,... and then wrote a deliberate essay wherein he reached conclusions similar to theirs." "in this work he intended to demonstrate: "'first, that the bible was not god's revelation; "'secondly, that jesus was not the son of god.'" (lincoln's work was never published.) "you insist on knowing something which you know i possess, and got as a secret, and that is, about lincoln's little book on infidelity. mr. lincoln did tell me that he _did write a little book on infidelity_"--_col. james h. matheny, lincoln's political manager in illinois._ james ford rhodes, ll.d.: "when lincoln entered upon political life he became reticent regarding his religious opinions, for at the age of twenty-five, influenced by thomas paine,... he had written an extended essay against christianity." hon. w. h. herndon (law partner of lincoln): "paine became a part of mr. lincoln from to the end of his life." "it was my good fortune to have had for some years an intimate acquaintance with lincoln's partner for twenty-two years. mr. herndon was a man of academic education, and possessed a number of books that in that day would be considered a good library, and he told me that the books of his which fairly fascinated lincoln were volney's 'ruins' and the works of thomas paine, especially the latter, of which he had memorized many pages."--col. e. a. stevens. hon. james tuttle: "he [lincoln] was one of the most ardent admirers of thomas paine i ever met. he was continually quoting from the 'age of reason.'" it has been claimed that lincoln changed his religious opinions after he became president. in a letter, written may , , col. john g. nicolay, his private secretary, says: "mr. lincoln did not, to my knowledge, in any way, change his religious ideas, opinions, or beliefs, from the time he left springfield till the day of his death." hon. leonard swett, who placed lincoln in nomination for the presidency, in answer to an inquiry from a friend, wrote as follows: "you ask me if lincoln changed his religion towards the close of his life. i think not." next to mr. herndon, lincoln's biographer, colonel lamon, has made the fullest and fairest presentation of lincoln's religious opinions. he did not accept them but he was familiar with them and he was honest enough to present them. in illinois he was the friend and confidant of lincoln. when the time approached for lincoln to take the executive chair, and the journey from springfield to washington was deemed a dangerous one, to colonel lamon was intrusted the responsible duty of conducting him to the national capital. during the eventful years that followed he remained at the president's side, holding an important official position in the district of columbia. when lincoln was assassinated, at the great funeral pageant in washington, he led the civic procession, and was, with judge david davis and major general hunter, selected to convey the remains to their final resting-place at springfield. regarding his friend's religious belief colonel lamon says: "mr. lincoln was never a member of any church, nor did he believe in the divinity of christ or the inspiration of the scriptures in the sense understood by evangelical christians" (life of lincoln, p. ). indefinite expressions about 'divine providence,' the 'justice of god,' 'the favor of the most high,' were easy and not inconsistent with his religious notions. in this accordingly he indulged freely; but never in all that time [ to his death] did he let fall from his lips or his pen an expression which remotely implied the slightest faith in jesus as the son of god and the savior of men (ibid, p. ). after lincoln's death mrs. lincoln, herself a christian, made the following statement: "mr. lincoln had no hope, and no faith, in the usual acceptation of those words" (lamon's life of lincoln, p. ). judge david davis, his life-long friend and his executor, says: "he [lincoln] had no faith, in the christian sense of the term." lincoln did not believe in a personal god. his law partner, w. h. herndon, relates the following in proof of this: in he asked me to erase the word _god_ from a speech which i had written and read to him for criticism, because my language indicated a personal god, whereas he insisted that no such personality ever existed."--_lamon's life of lincoln, p. ._ the gettysburg address, as delivered by lincoln, contained no mention of deity. the phrase "under god" was inserted afterward, with lincoln's consent, at the earnest solicitation of a friend. the recognition of god in the emancipation proclamation was inserted at the urgent request of secretary chase. the pious phrases to be found in his state papers are mostly the work of his cabinet ministers and secretaries. thirty years ago judge james m. nelson, a son of thomas pope nelson, a distinguished statesman of kentucky, and a great-grandson of thomas nelson, jr., signer of the declaration of independence, who was intimately acquainted with lincoln, both in illinois and at washington, published in the louisville _times_ his "reminiscences of abraham lincoln." concerning lincoln's religious belief judge nelson says: "in religion mr. lincoln was of about the same belief as colonel ingersoll, and there is no account of his ever having changed. he went to church a few times with his family while he was president, but so far as i have been able to find he remained an unbeliever.... i asked him once about his fervent thanksgiving message and twitted him with being an unbeliever in what was published. 'oh,' said he, '_that is some of seward's nonsense, and it pleases the fools!_" col. amos c. babcock, for many years chairman of the illinois state republican committee, and one of lincoln's confidential agents during the war, in an article published in the peoria _journal_, says: "lincoln was an agnostic. during the war he sometimes talked religiously, but it was mere statecraft. he knew that everything depended upon his having the support of the religious people,... but he was for all that an utter disbeliever in the christian religion." in springfield, where he lived, lincoln's rejection of christianity was known to every person and while he was very popular and greatly beloved by all who were not dominated by their religious prejudices, the bigots always opposed him. during the presidential campaign of his friends made a canvass of the voters of springfield for the purpose of ascertaining how they were going to vote for president. the list was given to lincoln. with hon. newton bateman, state superintendent of public instruction, he went over it carefully, his principal desire being to know how the clergy were going to vote. when they had finished lincoln said: "here are twenty-three ministers, of different denominations, and all of them are against me but three; and here are a great many prominent' members of the churches, a very great majority of whom are against me."--_holland's life of lincoln, p. ._ why, it may be asked, was lincoln's infidelity not used against him everywhere in this campaign? because the managers of both parties knew that douglas, also, was a disbeliever in christianity. an agitation of this question would have weakened the chances of both northern candidates while it would have strengthened the chances of breckinridge, the southern candidate. lincoln did not believe in prayer. all the stories about his praying, without a single exception, are pure inventions. let me cite an example. after lincoln's death the _western christian advocate_ published the following story, a companion piece to washington's prayer at valley forge: "on the day of the receipt of the capitulation of lee, as we learn from a friend intimate with the late president lincoln, the cabinet meeting was held an hour earlier than usual. neither the president nor any member was able, for a time, to give utterance to his feelings. at the suggestion of mr. lincoln all dropped on their knees, and offered in silence and in tears their humble and heartfelt acknowledgment to the almighty for the triumph he had granted to the national cause." in reply to an inquiry respecting the authenticity of this story hugh mcculloch, lincoln's last secretary of the treasury, wrote as follows: "the description of what occurred at the executive mansion, when the intelligence was received of the surrender of the confederate forces, which you quote from the _western christian advocate_, is not only absolutely groundless, but absurd. after i became secretary of the treasury i was present at every cabinet meeting, and i never saw mr. lincoln or any of his ministers upon his knees or in tears." our works of art are mostly mythological. and this is true of christian art, as it is true of christian theology. the washington myth is now preserved in bronze, and the lincoln myth will some day find expression on canvas. herndon says: "it is my opinion that no man ever heard mr. lincoln pray in the true evangelical sense of that word. his philosophy is against all human prayer as a means of reversing god's decrees." the partnership of lincoln and herndon was formed in . it was dissolved by the assassin's bullet in . the love of these men for each other was like the love of damon and pythias. to the moral character of his illustrious partner mr. herndon pays this tribute: "the benevolence of his impulses., the seriousness of his convictions, and the nobility of his character, are evidences unimpeachable that his soul was ever filled with the exalted purity and the sublime faith of natural religion." lincoln's religion was the religion of thomas paine. "to do good is my religion," said paine; "when i do good i feel good, and when i do bad i feel bad," said lincoln. for thirty years the church endeavored to crush lincoln, but when, in spite of her malignant opposition, he achieved a glorious immortality, this same church, to hide the mediocrity of her devotees, attempts to steal his deathless name. six historic americans: "the church claims all great men. but the truth is, the great men of all nations have, for the most part, rejected christianity. of these six historic americans--the six greatest men that have lived on this continent [paine, washington, franklin, jefferson, lincoln and grant]--not one was a christian. all were unbelievers. "it is popularly supposed that paine was a very irreligious man, while washington, franklin, jefferson, lincoln and grant were very religious. the reverse of this is more nearly true. paine, although not a christian, was a deeply religious man; while the others, though practicing the loftiest morals, cared little for religion." ("six historic americans" contains more than five hundred pages of evidence in support of the fact that these six eminent men were all disbelievers in orthodox christianity, including the testimony of one hundred witnesses, mostly friends and acquaintences, in proof of lincoln's unbelief.) "the 'age of reason' can now be estimated calmly. it was written from the viewpoint of a quaker who did not believe in revealed religion, but who held that 'all religions are in their nature mild and benign' when not associated with political systems."--_encyclopedia britannica._ "all national institutions of churches--whether jewish, christian or turkish--appear to me no other than human inventions set up to terrify and enslave mankind and monopolize power and profit."--_age of reason._ "each of those churches show certain books which they call revelation, or the word of god. the jews say that their word of god was given by god to moses face to face; the christians say that their word of god came by divine inspiration; and the turks say that their word of god (the koran) was brought by an angel from heaven. each of those churches accuses the others of unbelief; and, for my own part, i disbelieve them all."--_ibid._ paine's reason for rejecting the bible is as logical as it is apparent. a plurality of so-called divine revelations cannot be harmonized with the attributes ascribed to. deity. there are many bibles. the world is divided into various religious systems. the adherents of each system have their sacred book, or bible. brahmins have the vedas and puranas, buddhists the tripitaka, zoroastrians the zend avesta, confucians the king, mohammedans the koran, and christians the holy bible. the adherents of each claim that their book is a revelation from god--that the others are spurious. now, if the christian bible were a revelation--if it were god's only revelation, as affirmed--would he allow these spurious books to be imposed upon mankind and delude the greater portion of his children? a divine revelation intended for all mankind can be harmonized only with a universal acceptance of this revelation. god, it is affirmed, has made a revelation to the world. those who receive and accept this revelation are saved; those who fail to receive and accept it are lost. this god, it is claimed, is all-powerful and all-just. if he is all-powerful he can give his children a revelation. if he is all-just he will give this revelation to all. he will not give it to a part of them and allow them to be saved and withhold it from the others and suffer them to be lost. your house is on fire. your children are asleep in their rooms. what is your duty? to arouse them and rescue them--to awaken all of them and save all of them. if you awaken and save only a part of them when it is in your power to save them all, you are a fiend. if you stand outside and blow a trumpet and say, "i have warned them, i have done my duty,", and they perish, you are still a fiend. if god does not give his revelation to all; if he does not disclose his divinity to all; in short, if he does not save all, he is the prince of fiends. if all the world's inhabitants but one accepted the bible and there was one who could not honestly accept it, its rejection by one human being would prove that it is not from an all-powerful and an all-just god; for an all-powerful god who failed to reach and convince even one of his children would not be an all-just god. has the bible been given to all the world? do all accept it? three-fourths of the human race reject it; millions have never heard of it. "the word of god is the creation we behold."--_age of reason_. "it is only in the creation that all our ideas and conceptions of a word of god can unite. the creation speaketh a universal language, independently of human speech or human languages, multiplied and various as they be. it is an ever-existing original which every man can read. it cannot be forged; it cannot be counterfeited; it cannot be lost; it cannot be altered; it cannot be suppressed. it does not depend upon the will of man whether it shall be published or not; it publishes itself from one end of the earth to the other. it preaches to all nations and to all worlds; and this word of god reveals to man all that is necessary for man to know of god. "do we want to contemplate his power? we see it in the immensity of the creation. do we want to contemplate his wisdom? we see it in the unchangeable order by which the incomprehensible whole is governed. do we want to contemplate his munificence? we see it in the abundance with which he fills the earth. do we want to contemplate his mercy? we see it in his not withholding that abundance even from the unthankful. in fine, do we want to know what god is? search not the book called the scripture, which any human hand might make, but the scripture called the creation."--_ibid._ "the moral duty of man consists in imitating the moral goodness and beneficence of god manifested in the creation towards all his creatures. that seeing as we daily do the goodness of god to all men, it is an example calling upon all men to practice the same towards each other; and, consequently, that everything of persecution and revenge between man and man, and everything of cruelty to animals, is a violation of moral duty."--_ibid._ "i believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy and endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy."--ibid. "any system of religion that has anything in it that shocks the mind of a child cannot be a true system."--_ibid._ "i trouble not myself about the manner of future existence. i content myself with believing, even to positive conviction, that the power that gave me existence is able to continue it, in any form and manner he pleases, either with or without this body."--_ibid_. it has been charged that paine reviled jesus in his book. he eulogized jesus. ''three noble and pathetic tributes to the man of nazareth are audible from the last century--those of rousseau, voltaire and paine."--_dr. conway_. "nothing that is here said can apply, even with the most distant disrespect, to the real character of jesus christ. he was a virtuous and amiable man. the morality that he preached was of the most benevolent kind; and though similar systems of morality had been preached by confucius, and by some of the greek philosophers, many years before; by the quakers since, and by many good men in all ages, it has not been exceeded by any.... but he preached also against the jewish priests; and this brought upon him the hatred and vengeance of the whole order of priesthood."--_age of reason_. history repeats itself. what is alleged to have been the fate of jesus was, in a measure, the fate of thomas paine. the penning of his honest thoughts on religion caused his good name to be consigned to everlasting infamy on earth and his soul doomed to endless misery in hell. the jews who are said to have demanded the crucifixion of jesus on calvary and the catholics who burned bruno at rome are not more deserving of execration than are the protestant assassins of paine's character in england and america. referring to paine's examination and analysis of the bible and his criticisms of the church presented in the "age of reason," william thurston brown, in a lecture, said: "he brought to that, examination and analysis what almost no other mind in all the ages has brought: a mind absolutely free, a soul absolutely incorruptible, a character unstained by one act of compromise or treachery to friend or foe, a nature devoted, as few natures in all history have been, to the truth, and, more than all, a sense of the relation of moral and intellectual integrity to personal character and social well-being never surpassed and seldom equaled." s. kyd (counselor for thomas williams, imprisoned for publishing the "age of reason"): "i defy the prosecution to find in the 'age of reason' a single passage inconsistent with the most chaste, the most correct system of morals." prof. w. f. jamieson: "i read from this famous book, the 'age of reason,' as pure sentiments as were ever penned by mortal man." "when i was a boy i was often told that the writings of thomas paine 'were not fit for anybody to read.' my pastor said so, as did my sunday school teachers and my parents. none of these had ever read them or knew anything about them....i believed them, and might still do so, had i not accidentally encountered a copy of the 'age of reason.' upon reading it i found it to be as conventional as anything i had ever read in church or sunday school, to say nothing of its more lofty reasoning."--_franklin steiner_. the encyclopedia britannica says that "the 'age of reason' contains many passages of earnest and even lofty eloquence in favor of a pure morality." "its tone throughout is noble and reverent."--_rufus rockwell._ chapman cohen: "assuming paine to be alive today, with his opinions unchanged, how much fault would he find with the teachings of many preachers? very little i fancy. but does this mean, or would it mean, that paine had become converted to christianity? not a bit of it. it would only mean that christianity had become converted to paine. in its most advanced form today, christianity is little more than the eighteenth century deism it so bitterly opposed, with a liberal dash of the word 'christ.'" "what has become of the bible that paine attacked? so far as the mere paper and type is concerned it is still here. but so tar as belief is concerned, it is paine's bible that is believed in by the majority of educated christians." rev. dr. e. l. rexford: "if paine were now living he would be looked upon by all enlightened clergymen and laymen as a very conservative critic of the christian religion." rev. george burman foster (gottingen and chicago universities): "what was radical in regard to the bible in his day would be conservative today." rev. s. fletcher williams (england): "his principles were right, and today an increasing number of religious teachers and religious minded men stand only where he stood a century ago." dr. t. a. bland: "the principles of the 'age of reason' are embodied in sermons--orthodox and radical--all over the country." john maddock:-- "the work of paine was done so well the church is now the infidel." "he triumphed--bibles are revised, creeds change, and faiths decay, the facts his bitter foes despised their children prize today." --c. fannie aliyn. rev. william channing gannett, d.d.: "what wonder thomas paine wrote his strong rank sarcasm! people should remember why he wrote it." moncure d. conway, ll.d.: "it ['age of reason'] represents, as no elaborate treatise could, the agony and bloody sweat of a heart breaking in the presence of crucified humanity. what dear heads, what noble hearts had that man seen laid low; what shrieks had he heard in the desolate homes of the condorcets, the brissots; what canaanite and midianite massacres had be seen before the altar of brotherhood, erected by himself! and all because every human being had been taught from his cradle that there is something more sacred than humanity, and to which man should be sacrificed. of all those massacred thinkers not one voice remains: they have gone silent: over their reeking guillotine sits the gloating apollyon of inhumanity. but here is one man, a prisoner, preparing for his long silence. he alone can speak for those slain between the throne and the altar. in these outbursts of laughter and tears, these outcries that think not of literary style, these appeals from surrounding chaos to the starry realm of order, from the tribune of vengeance to the sun shining for all, this passionate horror of cruelty in the powerful which will brave a heartless heaven or hell with its immortal indignation,--in all these the unfettered mind may hear the wail of enthralled europe, sinking back choked with its blood, under the chain it tried to break. so long as a link remains of the same chain, binding reason or heart, paine's 'age of reason' will live. it is not a mere book--it is a man's heart." edgar w. howe: "the storm that arose over this book was never before equaled: it will never be equaled again." dr. bond (a surgeon belonging to general o'hara's staff): "mr. paine while hourly expecting to die, read to me parts of his 'age of reason'; and every night when i left him, to be separately locked up, and expected not to see him alive in the morning, he always expressed his firm belief in the principles of that book, and begged i would tell the world such were his dying opinions." "the doctrines and sentiments which it contains may justly be regarded as the expressions of a dying man."--_d. m. bennett._ "when it [first part] appeared he was a prisoner; his life in couthon's hands. he had personally nothing to gain by its publication--neither wife, child, nor relative to reap benefit by its sale. it was published as purely for the good of mankind as any work ever written."--_dr. conway_. "while in prison he composed the second part, and as he expected every day to be guillotined it was penned in the very presence of death."--_george w. foote._ "paine deserves whatever credit is due to absolute devotion to a creed believed by himself to be demonstrably true and beneficial. he showed undeniable courage, and is free from any suspicion of mercenary motives."--_sir leslie stephen._ thomas nixon and captain daniel pelton: "all you have heard of his recanting is false. being aware that such reports would be raised after his death by fanatics who infested his house at the time it was expected he would die, we, intimate acquaintances of thomas paine, since the year , went to his house--he was sitting up in a chair, and apparently in the full vigor and use of all his mental faculties. we interrogated him on his religious opinions, and if he had changed his mind or repented of anything he had said or written on that subject. he answered, 'not at all.'" hon. francis o. smith, m. c.: "i have just parted with hon. richard m. johnson, now a member of the house of representatives [afterwards vice-president of the united states], who told me that he visited thomas paine within the fortnight next preceding paine's death; that he conversed with paine and expressed a hope that he might recover; that paine replied that he should shortly die, that he should never go out of his room again, and requested him to say to mr. jefferson that he had not changed his religious opinions in the slightest degree." walter morton (with paine when he died): "in his religious opinions he continued to the last as steadfast and tenacious as any sectarian to the definition of his own creed." dr. philip graves: "he [amasa woodsworth] told me that he nursed thomas paine in his last illness and closed his eyes when he was dead. i asked him if he recanted and called upon god to save him. he replied, 'no. he died as he had taught.'" john randel, jr. (orthodox christian): "the very worthy mechanic, amasa woodsworth, who saw paine daily, told me there was no truth in such report." gilbert vale, who interviewed mr. woodsworth, says: "as an act of kindness, mr. woodsworth visited mr. paine every day for six weeks before his death; he frequently sat up with him, and did so on the last two nights of his life.... mr. woodsworth assures us that he neither heard nor saw anything to justify the belief of any mental change in the opinions of mr. paine previous to his death." the english writer, william cobbett, a believer in christianity, who lived for a time in this country, and who made a thorough investigation of the paine calumnies, says: "among other things said against this famous man is that he recanted before he died; and that in his last illness he discovered horrible fears of death.... it is a pure, unadulterated falsehood." cobbett, in , announced his intention of publishing a biography of paine. soon after a pious fanatic of new york, named collins, attempted to persuade him that paine had recanted and begged him to state the fact in his book. he had induced a disreputable woman, mary hinsdale, an opium fiend, notorious for her lying propensities, to promise that she would tell cobbett that she had visited paine during his illness and that he had confessed to her his disbelief in the "age of reason" and expressed regret for having published it. cobbett saw at once that the whole thing was a fraud. collins, he says, "had a sodden face, a simper, and maneuvered his features precisely like the most perfidious wretch that i have known." however, he called on the woman. but her courage had forsaken her. concerning the result of his visit he says: "she shuffled; she evaded; she equivocated; she warded off; she affected not to understand me." it was afterward proven that she had not conversed with paine; that she had never seen him. but it did not need cobbett's publication of the lie to secure its acceptance by the church. the occupant of nearly every orthodox pulpit was only too willing to publish it. this was the origin of the recantation calumny. "had thomas paine recanted, every citizen of new york would have heard of it within twenty-four hours. the news of it would have spread to the remotest confines of america and europe as rapidly as the human agencies of that time could have transmitted it. it took ten years for this startling revelation to reach the ears of his sickbed attendants."--the fathers of our republic. rev. willet hicks: "i was with him every day during the latter part of his sickness. he died as easy as any one i ever saw die, and i have seen many die." "paine died quietly and at peace."--_ellery sedgwick._ "he died placidly and almost without a struggle."--_gilbert vale._ "he spent the night in tranquility, and expired in the morning."--_madame bonneville._ noble l. prentiss: "paine's death-bed terrors were used in the pulpit for a long time. it is probable that they never existed. it is living not dying, that troubles most of us. when the inevitable hour comes; when the lights are being put out, the shutters closed, the end is peace." concerning paine's recanting colonel ingersoll says: "he died surrounded by those who hated and despised him,--who endeavored to wring from the lips of death a recantation. but, dying as he was, his soul stood erect to the last moment. nothing like a recantation could be wrung from the brave lips of thomas paine." col. john fellows: "it [the recantation story] was considered by the friends of mr. paine generally to be too contemptible to controvert." "thomas paine did not recant. but the church is recanting. on her death-bed tenet after tenet of the absurd and cruel creed which paine opposed is being renounced by her. time will witness the renunciation of her last dogma and her death. then will the vindication of thomas paine and the 'age of reason' be complete."--_the fathers of our republic_. paine's place in literature. royal tyler: "that head which worked such mickle woe to courts and kings." dr. edmund robinet: "a wise and lucid intellect." james thompson callender: "he possesses both, talent and courage." walter savage landor: "few dared such homely truths to tell, or wrote our english half so well." zells encyclopedia: "he early distinguished himself by his literary abilities." cyclopedia of american literature: "the merits of paine's style as a prose writer are very great." b. f. underwood: "thomas paine's style as a writer, in some respects, has never been equaled. every sentence that he wrote was suffused with the light of his own luminous mind, and stamped with his own intense individuality of character." "there is a peculiar originality in his style of thought and expression, his diction is not vulgar or illiterate, but nervous, simple and scientific.... paine, like the young spartan warrior, went into the field stripped bare to the last thread of prudent conventional disguise; and thus not only fixed the gaze of men upon his intrepid singularity, but exhibited the vigor of his faculties in full play."--_rev. george croly_. john lendrum: "the style, manner, and language of the author is singular and fascinating." "he was a magnificent writer of the english language."--_henry frank_. "he is the best english writer we know."--_gilbert vale_. "ease, fluidity, grace, imagination, energy, earnestness, mark his style."--_elbert hubbard_. "paine is the first american writer who has a literary style, and we have not had so many since but that you may count them on the fingers of one hand."--_ibid._ l. carroll judson: "his intellectual powers suddenly burst into a blaze of light." john horne tooke: "you are like jove coming down upon us in a shower of gold." "the man who coined the intellectual gold of the eighteenth century was thomas paine."--_l. k. washburn_. ebenezer elliott: "paine is the greatest master of metaphor i have ever read." "he was not only master of metaphor, he was master of principles. he imparted life to great ideas."--_george jacob holyoake._ "the keenness of his intellect was matched by the brilliancy of his imagination. he stated a truth in a way that men could see, hear, and feel it. take the following epigram: 'to argue with a man who has renounced the use of reason is like administering medicine to the dead.'"--_george w. foote_. prof. william smyth: "paine is a writer to be numbered with those few who are so supereminently fitted to address the great mass of mankind." dr. charles botta: "no writer, perhaps, ever possessed in a higher degree the art of moving and guiding the public at his will." elroy mckendree avery: "no writer ever had a greater influence upon the events of his own time than he." "he threw the charms of poetry over the statue of reason," says stephen simpson, "and made converts to liberty as if a power of fascination presided over his pen." john adolphus: "he took with great judgment, a correct aim at the feelings and prejudices of those whom he intended to influence." hezekiah butterworth: "he had a surprising power of direct forcible argument." william hazlitt: "paine affected to reduce things to first principles, to announce self-evident truths." w. j. fox, m. p.: "a keen and powerful intellect, and a philosophical mind going to the foundation of every question; bringing first principles forward in a luminous and impressive manner. robert james mackintosh: "his strong coarse sense and bold dogmatism conveyed in an instinctively popular style made paine a dangerous enemy always." m. gerard: "you know too well the prodigious effects produced by the writings of this celebrated personage." madame roland: "the boldness of his conceptions, the originality of his style, the striking truths which he boldly throws out in the midst of those whom they offend, must necessarily have produced great effects." edward c. reichwald: "he was an intellectual gladiator who won his victories upon the field of thought." boston herald: "there is no better illustration in all history than exists in paine's writings of bulwer's aphorism, 'the pen is mightier than the sword.'" hon. john j. lentz, m. c.: "the pen of the author of 'common sense' and the 'crisis' did more to liberate the colonies than did the sword of the commander in chief of the colonial armies." prof. william denton: "the pen of paine accomplished more for american liberty than the sword of washington." general lee of revolutionary fame says: "the pen of thomas paine did more to achieve our independence than did the sword of washington." joel barlow, one of the most popular literary men of his time, a chaplain in the american revolution and a fellow-worker of paine for political liberty, both in england and france, says: "we may venture to say, without fear of contradiction, that the great american cause owed as much to the pen of paine as to the sword of washington." even paine's vilest calumniator, cheetham, makes this admission: "his pen was an appendage to the army as necessary and as formidable as its cannon." reuben post halleck, l.l. d.: "some have said that the pen of thomas paine was worth more to the cause of liberty than twenty thousand men. in the darkest hours he inspired the colonists with hope and enthusiasm... he had an almost shakespearean intuition of what would appeal to the exigencies of each case." "the real man back of the american revolution was the man who had the ideas and not the man behind the guns.... paine fought with the weapon of the future, and he was one of the very first that made it powerful. paine's weapon was the pen, not the sword. washington conquered small groups of men that had been living twenty or thirty years, but thomas paine conquered the prejudices of thousands of years."--_herbert n. casson._ thomas jefferson: "these two persons [lord bolingbroke and thomas paine] differed remarkably in the style of their writings, each leaving a model of what is most perfect in both extremes of the simple' and the sublime. no writer has exceeded paine in ease and familiarity of style, in perspicuity of expression, happiness of elucidation, and in simple and unassuming language." abraham lincoln: "i never tire of reading paine." capel lofft: "i am glad paine is living: he cannot be even wrong without enlightening mankind, such is the vigor of his intellect, such the acuteness of his research, and such the force and vivid perspicuity of his expression." augustine birrell, m. p.: "paine was without knowing it, a born journalist. his capacity for writing on the spur of the moment was endless, and his delight in doing so was boundless." rev. dr. lyman abbott: "he was perhaps the most popular pamphleteer of the country." library of the world's best literature: "the pamphlets of thomas paine were doubtless in their time 'half battles.' clear, logical, homely, by turns warning, appealing, commanding, now sharply satirical, now humorous, now pathetic, always desperately in earnest, always written in admirably simple english, they constituted their author, in the judgment of many, the foremost pamphleteer of the eighteenth century." lord brougham: "the most remarkable spirit in pamphlet literature was thomas paine.... his style was a model of terseness and force." "this singular power of clear, vigorous exposition made him unequaled as a pamphleteer."--_sir leslie stephen._ london times (june , ): "paine was the greatest of pamphleteers; more potent in influence on affairs than swift, beaumarchais, or courier, more varied in his activity than any of them; his words influencing the actors in two of the chief political revolutions of the world and prime movers in a religious revolution scarcely less important." "perhaps someone, even in far off times, digging in the past, will come upon his books and will say, 'these were not words; they were events, in political history. this was a born leader who could make men march to victory or defeat.'" manchester guardian (june , ): "he and his works became the great influence which set up everywhere constitutional societies and encouraged political and religious freedom of thought. he became the interpreter to england of the principles of the two revolutions, and his words and ideas leavened speculations among the masses of the english people, and still leaven them today. we may forget him or remember him awry, but the very stuff of our brains is woven in the loom of his devising." james k. hosmer, ll. d.: "few writers have exerted a more powerful influence since the world began, if the claim set forth at the time and never refuted be just, that his 'common sense' made possible the declaration of independence and therefore the united states of america." constitutional gazette (feb. , ): "the author introduces [in 'common sense'] a new system of polices as widely different from the old as the copernican system is from the ptolemaic. this extraordinary performance contains as surprising a discovery in politics as the works of sir isaac newton do in philosophy." "it would be difficult to name any human composition which has had an effect at once so instant, so extended and so lasting."--_sir george trevelyan._ paul louis courrier ( ): "never did any portly volume effect so much for the human race. rallying all hearts and minds to the party of independence, it decided the issue of that great conflict which, ended for america, is still proceeding all over the rest of the world." "incisive sentences,... as direct and vivid in their appeal as any sentences of swift."--_woodrow wilson._ "like a thunderbolt from the sky came paine's magnificent argument for liberty... no pamphlet ever written sold in such vast numbers, nor did any ever before or since produce such marvelous results."--_ella wheeler wilcox._ "who could with almost one stroke of his pen, turn the people in a radically new direction? who must exert an influence that had never, in any crisis of history, been exerted by one man before? the american republic today, with its illimitable glory and belting a continent, can only reply: thomas paine!"--_samuel p. putnam._ "the soul of thomas paine went forth in that book. every line of it glittered with the fires of his brain. it was written as a poet writes his song.... it was like the flowing of a fountain, the sweep of a wind, the rush of a comet."--ibid. the publication of thomas paine's immortal pamphlet, 'common sense,' will ever deserve to rank among the supremely important events of history. the farther we are removed from it in time the larger it will loom."--_rev. thomas b. gregory._ "this work marks an era in the history of the world. its interest will last longer than nations."--_hon. elizur wright._ universal magazine (april, . from a review of the "rights of man."): "and now courteous reader, we leave mr. paine entirely to thy mercy; what wilt thou say of him? wilt thou address him? 'thou art a troubler of privileged orders--we will tar and feather thee; nobles abhor thee, and kings think thee mad!' or wilt thou put on thy spectacles, study mr. paine's physiognomy, purchase his print, hang it over thy chimney-piece, and, pointing to it, say: 'this is no common man!'" "those who know the book ['rights of man'] only by hearsay as the work of a furious incendiary would be surprised at the dignity, force and temperance of the style."--_encyclopedia britannica._ "the 'rights of man' is acknowledged to be the greatest work ever written for political freedom. this masterpiece gave free speech, and a free press to england and america."--_ella wheeler wilcox._ "the thinking men of england now revere the memory of thomas paine for his great work in the nation's behalf. the most important of the many reforms england has undertaken in the century that has elapsed since it outlawed paine have been brought about by paine's masterly work."--_elbert hubbard_. "the 'rights of man' will never die so long as men have rights."--_alice hubbard._ richard henry lee: "it is a performance of which any man might be proud." "the 'rights of man' will be more enduring than all the piles of marble and granite man can erect."--_andrew jackson_. dr. frank crane: "it deserves a place among the dozen epoch-making books of the race.... it is a milestone in human development that marks a point of progress that never can be retraced." general arthur o'connor: "i prize above all earthly things the 'rights of man' and common sense.'" prof. edward mcchesney sait: "many names which were famous in the revolutionary period of the eighteenth century are heard no more; but the name of thomas paine still lives. it will never die; those noble writings, 'common sense' and 'rights of man,' like the verses of the roman poet, are more lasting than bronze." marie joseph chenier: "notable epoch in the life of this philosopher who opposed the arms of 'common sense' to the sword of tyranny, 'the 'rights of man' to the machiavelism of english politicians; and who by two immortal works has deserved well of the human race." victor robinson: "another immortal work was being penned behind french prison-bars and the hand which held the pen was the hand of thomas paine." "there shone on paine's cell in the luxembourg a great and imperishable vision, which multitudes are still following."--_dr. conway_. m. m. mangasarian: "in his dungeon his pen dropped light into the darkness of europe and america by writing the 'age of reason.'" "one of the most wonderful books ever written." _edgar w. howe_. "the 'age of reason' defies the grave where other books of his generation sleep."--_george e. macdonald._ "not only the one great skeptical work of his time, but the only one which seems destined to live for all time."--_j. p. bland_. "paine's 'age of reason' is a masterpiece of rationalistic literature."--_william h. maple_. "it is a masterpiece in every particular--sound, logical and truthful."--_sir hiram maxim_. "there are the most varied graces of literary style, a profound and gentle philosophy, and a genuine love of humanity."--_william heaford_. mimnermus (england): "out of the charnel-vault of kingcraft and priestcraft, rousseau and the other great french freethinkers saw in vision the ideal society of the future. of this new evangel paine was the prophet and shelley was the poet.... in the 'rights of man' and the 'age of reason,' no less than in the 'revolt of islam' and 'prometheus unbound,' the expression glows with the solemn and majestic inspiration of prophecy." john m. robertson, m. p.: "the enduring popularity of the chief works of thomas paine is not the least remarkable fact in the history of opinion. it is given to few controversial writers to keep a large audience during a hundred years." "in paine's public life there are three great tidal periods--the period when he was helping more than any other to make the revolution in america; the period when, having come to europe, after the american revolution, he published the 'rights of man' and laid in england the foundations of a new democracy in the very teeth of the great reaction of which burke was the prophet; and lastly, the period when, after his hopes from the french revolution had substantially failed, and he expected death as his own meed, he wrote his 'age of reason,' significantly making his last blow the most deadly of all his strokes at the reign of tradition." new york world: "the man whose 'common sense,' by washington's testimony, 'worked a powerful change in the minds of men' toward american independence; who in the 'rights of man' demolished burke's attack on the french revolution so completely that the british government resorted to its suppression, and who in france set the world aflame with persecution mania by the 'age of reason,' certainly made good in three countries his title to literary rank and political power." "the three mightiest contributions of political and religious freedom which mankind had known came from the brain of thomas paine. what he wrote changed the whole civilized world."--_l. k. washburn_. rev. e. p. powell (referring to the "crisis"): "words of fire and logic that rang like a berserker's sword on his shield." "the 'crisis' is contained in sixteen numbers. they comprise a truer history of that event [american revolution] than does any professed history of it yet written. they comprise the soul of it."--_calvin blanchard._ "of utterances by the pen none have achieved such vast results as paine's 'common sense' and his first 'crisis.'"--_dr. conway_. in addition to his three literary masterpieces and the "crisis" paine wrote many remarkable books and pamphlets, the more important of which are the following: "public good," philadelphia, ; "letter to abbé raynal," philadelphia, ; "dissertation on government," philadelphia, ; "prospects on the rubicon," london, ; "address of société républicaine," paris, ; "address to the adressers," london, ; "plea for life of louis capet," "french constitution of ' ," paris, ; "on first principles of government," paris, ; "decline and fall of the english system of finance," published in all the languages of europe. ; "agrarian justice," "letter to camille jordan, paris, ; "essay on dreams," "examination of prophecies," new york, ; "reply to bishop of llandaff," new york, ; "miscellaneous poems,"'london, . "these [paine's books] were battles, victories--the simplest, yet the grand and notorious facts of that wondrous war and age."--_t. b. wakeman_. m. de bonneville, the noted french journalist and revolutionary leader, and the almost constant companion of paine during the ten or more years that he resided in paris, says: "all his pamphlets have been popular and powerful. he wrote with composure and steadiness, as if under the guidance of a tutelary genius. if, for an instant, he stopped, it was always in the attitude of a man who listens. the saint jerome of raphael would give a perfect idea of his contemplative recollection, to listen to the voice from on high which makes itself heard in the heart." "when the old traditions of prejudice have passed, away, paine's name will have its due place not only in our political but in our literary history, as that of a man of native genius whose prose bears being read beside that of burke on the same theme, and who found in sincerity the secret of a nobler eloquence than his antagonists could draw from their stores of literature or the fountain of their ill-will."--_john m. robertson_. "he was a great writer. cobbett knew it, hazlitt knew it, and landor knew it."--_george w. foote_. george brandes: "one of the largest figures in our literary history." mrs. m. e. cadwallader: "his writings have become classics. they will live when those who vilified him are forgotten." pittsburgh press: "the science of criticism, like the spectrum analysis which reveals the composition of the stars, points unerringly to thomas paine as the only man who could have indited that greatest of literary masterpieces, the declaration of independence." that the declaration of independence is, in its entirety, the work of paine probably can not be proven. that he had much to do with its composition, however, can scarcely be doubted. the circumstances attending its adoption warrant the assumption, and the style of the document confirms it. knowing the marvelous power of paine's pen, knowing that with it he had led the people to demand independence, to suppose that he would not be consulted, that his services would not be solicited in regard to its preparation is incredible. had he been a member of the continental congress he certainly would have been selected to draft the document. he was the soul of the movement and its literary leader. the historian gaspey says: "the government took no steps of importance without consulting him." the fact that his name was not mentioned in connection with its authorship at the time argues nothing. had he written every word of it neither he nor the committee could with propriety have divulged its authorship. the authorship of state papers and other public documents is assumed by, and credited to, the officials issuing them and not to the persons who may have been employed to draft them. "there is much evidence, both internal and external, in the declaration, that some other person than jefferson was the writer. there is much evidence, internal and external, that the author was thomas paine."--_w. m. van der weyde_. a noted writer, albert payson terhune, presents the following as the principal arguments that have been adduced in support of paine's authorship of the declaration of independence: "the declaration's first draft contained the phrase: 'scotch and foreign mercenaries.' jefferson was fond of the scotch, and had two scotch tutors; whereas paine openly hated scotland and its people. "the first draft contained the word 'hath' this word is said to be found nowhere else in jefferson's writings, while it abounds in paine's. "there was also in this draft a sharp rebuke to the british king for his introducing slavery into his provinces. jefferson was a slave-holder; paine hated slavery. "that jefferson, an owner of slaves, should have declared 'all men to be equal' and 'entitled to liberty,' has always seemed inconsistent. "though unjust taxation was one of the revolution's chief causes, it receives very slight mention in the declaration. jefferson was supposedly a foe to such taxation. paine considered the taxation problem merely as a side issue. "paine's notions concerning government as set forth in his 'common sense' are largely embodied in the declaration. "jefferson's style of writing was easy and graceful. paine's was forceful, terse, pointed. the declaration is couched far more in the latter style than in the former. "phrases and words dear to paine are scattered broadcast through the document. "the expression 'nature and nature's god' fit in with paine's favorite theory that god was to be found in nature." "almost a century ago an american newspaper claimed to have proof that jefferson did not write the declaration, and strongly hinted that paine wrote it. "jefferson, it is said, never formally claimed the authorship until after paine's death, and was always reticent on the subject." walton williams: "ever since the revolution there has been a tradition in certain parts of the country that the real author of the declaration of independence was thomas paine. the storm of opprobrium that beat upon paine's name because af his religious writings almost eradicated this tradition." jefferson lived fifty years after the declaration appeared. during all this time--and his silence is significant--he never claimed the authorship of the document except in the epitaph which he is said to have prepared for his tombstone. he was its accredited author and in an official sense was its author, and in this sense the claim made in his epitaph is admissible. nearly seventy years ago george m. dallas, then vice president of the united states, and an admirer of jefferson, contended that paine wrote the declaration. "whoever may have written the declaration, paine was its author."--_william cobbett._ new york sun: "in addition to his great responsibility for the literary form of the declaration of independence, he contributed to literature a number of phrases which have held a place." "his phrase, 'these are the times that try men's souls,' illuminates that gigantic struggle [american revolution] and has become one of the shibboleths of liberty."--_michael monahan_. "no life was ever attuned to a nobler sentiment--'where liberty is not there is my home.'"--_dr. lucy waite_. "'the world is my country, to do good my religion." was ever nobler thought conceived than this?"--_eva ingersoll brown_. "had paine given to the world nothing more than that matchless phrase which he adopted as his motto, 'the world is my country; to do good is my religion,' i should still feel that he was indeed entitled to a supernal position in the galleries of fame."--_elbert hubbard_. "a jewel which sparkles forever on the outstretched forefinger of time."--_george w. foote._ peter eckler: "paine's political and religious writings exerted an immense influence in america, england and france during his life, and since his death that beneficent influence has increased and extended throughout the civilized world." horace seaver: "paine's writings are a noble monument to the loftiness of his aims, the brilliancy of his genius, the wealth of benevolence in his heart, and the breadth and power of his intellect." horace traubel: "he will always stand there, immortal in history, a contemporary giant in whose aggressiveness and fortitude political literature discovered a new epoch. he will ever be ranked with the masters in theological innovation." general nathaniel greene: "your fame for your writings will be immortal." reforms and inventions. ella wheeler wilcox: "paine was not only a great author and statesman, but he was distinctly a pioneer, an originator, an inventor and creator. to him we are indebted for many of the world's greatest ideas and reforms." winwood reade: "one of thomas paine's first productions was an article against slavery." universal cyclopedia: "published in bradford's _pennsylvania journal [magazine]_ in march, , an article entitled 'african slavery in america,' which probably hastened the first american anti-slavery society, april , ." referring to this article dr. conway, one of the apostles of anti-slavery, says: "it is a most remarkable article. every argument and appeal, moral, religious, military, economic, familiar in our subsequent anti-slavery struggle is here found stated with eloquence and clearness." in the very month that paine lay down in his last illness there was born the man who was to complete the work he had begun. on the first of january, , abraham lincoln pronounced the doom of slavery. in this essay of paine and in the emancipation proclamation of lincoln we have the beginning and the end--the prologue and the epilogue--of the anti-slavery drama in america. "it is a significant fact that a paragraph in favor of the abolition of slavery in america, which is surmised to haye been inserted through paine's influence, in the declaration of independence was struck out.... had paine's humane suggestion been adopted the united states would have been saved the agony and bloody sweat of the civil. war."--_hector macpherson, scotland_. "in sorrow and bitterness and bloodshed lincoln wrought the cure for the evil which paine tried peacefully to prevent."--_mrs. bradlaugh-bonner, england_. george w. foote: "in america the first to publicly demand the liberation of the slaves was thomas paine. paine also partly drafted and signed the act of pennsylvania abolishing slavery--the first of its kind in the whole of christendom." paine was not only the first to advocate the abolition of domestic slavery in america, he was also a pioneer in the movement which secured the abolition of the slave trade in america and great britain. when louisiana demanded statehood with "the right to continue the importation of slaves," from paine came this stinging rebuke: "dare you put up a petition to heaven for such power, without fearing to be struck from the earth by its justice? why, then, do you ask it of man against man? do you want to renew in louisiana the horrors of domingo?" alfred e. fletcher: "paine was the first man in america to demand freedom for the slave, to urge international arbitration, justice for women and more rational ideas as to marriage and divorce." "in his august ( ) number _[pennsylvania magazine]_ is found the earliest american plea for woman."--_dr. conway_. "his pen is unmistakable in 'reflections on unhappy marriages' (june )."--_ibid_. "the first man in history to speak in clear cut tones for the rights of woman."--_josephine k. henry_. "today we dare to affirm that women as well as men have rights. paine was the pioneer of this thought."--_alice hubbard._ hon. robert a. dague: "if i am asked to whom are women indebted for the enlarged liberty they now enjoy, my answer is, to thomas paine, elizabeth cady stanton, and susan b. anthony, and to the universalists, unitarians, spiritualists and agnostics." london daily news: "he was always a man of peace, and to him is due the first project of international arbitration. he was the first publicist in america to declare for the emancipation of slaves, the first to champion the cause of woman, to insist upon the rights of animals, and to expose the criminal folly of dueling." "he condemned dueling, and the deliberate or thoughtless ill-treatment of animals. he spoke up against negro slavery quite as emphatically as against hereditary privileges and religious intolerance. he advocated international arbitration; international and internal copyright."--_sir george trevelyan_. george h. putxam: "paine wrote on the necessity of a copyright law in , a year before noah webster canvassed the legislatures of the new england states in behalf of such a law.... in , as a member of the french convention, paine made a statement of the principles of international copyright of the author's right in literary work." nannie mccormick coleman: "in , while a member of congress, hamilton urgently sought to have a [constitutional] convention called. in the same year... thomas paine contributed addresses to the public to the same effect." paine proposed a constitutional government and a constitutional convention as early as . referring to our constitutional convention prof. alexander johnston of princeton university says: "thomas paine had suggested it as long ago as his 'common sense' pamphlet: 'let a continental conference to be held to frame a continental charter.'" not only was paine the first to propose a constitutional government for the united states, the framers of the constitution adopted to a large extent his political ideas. referring to the principles advocated in his "dissertation on government" dr. conways says: "in the next year those principles were embodied in the constitution; and in , when a state pleaded its sovereign right to repudiate a contract the supreme court affirmed every contention of paine's pamphlet, using his ideas and sometimes his very phrases." bankers' magazine: "the bank of north america, at philadelphia, organized to assist the government during the war of independence, is admitted to be the first bank in the united states, but it is not generally known that thomas paine was the man in whose brain the bank was born and who was the first subscriber to its stock." columbia encyclopedia: "paine was chosen by napoleon to introduce a popular form of government into britain after the frenchman should have invaded and conquered the island." william milligan sloane, ll. d.: "thomas paine exercised his power as a pamphleteer on the theme of england's approaching bankruptcy, while the public crowded one of the theatres [in paris] to stare at stage pictures representing the invasion of england." paine prepared plans for this invasion which were adopted by the french directory. two hundred and fifty gun-boats were speedily built for the purpose. then napoleon abandoned the expedition against england for the one against egypt. paine's approval of this proposed invasion of england was not inspired by a spirit of revenge because of his persecution by the english government, but by a sincere love of its people, seeing in it the only means of delivering them from the intolerable tyranny of george iii. and his ministry. napoleon at this time had not manifested that insatiable thirst for blood which at a later period made him the scourge of europe. james a. edgerton, a. m.: "thomas paine first suggested american independence. he first suggested the federal union of the states. he first proposed the abolition of negro slavery. he first suggested [in christendom] protection for dumb animals. he first suggested equal rights for women. he first proposed old age pensions. he first suggested the education of poor children at public expense. he first proposed arbitration and international peace. he suggested a great republic of all the nations of the world." to the claims made in behalf of paine by mr. edgerton and others the following may be added: he was one of the founders, if not the real founder, of modern journalism. he labored to provide better facilities for the education of young women. his contributions to hygienic science were invaluable. his knowledge of astronomy was profound; he affirmed the belief that the fixed stars were suns twenty years before herschel. his views regarding taxation were wise and just. he was an advocate of land reform. he was recognized as the ablest authority of his time on paper money. he was one of the framers of the constitution of pennsylvania. not only was paine the real founder of our republic; he was largely instrumental in securing for it the greatest of its subsequent acquisitions of territory. he shares with jefferson the honor of being the first to propose the purchase from napoleon of the province of louisiana, an empire in extent--reaching from florida to the pacific and to what is now british columbia, a distance of three thousand miles--a territory three times as large as the original united states of america and from which have been formed, wholly or in part, eighteen of the most important states in the union. nearly half a century before comte, paine taught the religion of humanity. "in he wrote his sublime sentence about the 'religion of humanity.'"--_dr. conway_. "i have discovered that paine not only wrote those words, 'the religion of humanity,'... but he was the real author by this discovery of all laws of social science which is called sociology, now the queen of the sciences.... if paine was the real leader in that discovery he stands by the side of copernicus, newton, darwin, comte, spencer and ward, and the beneficent results and glory of this discovery, and its discoverer, are beyond the words of any mind at present to describe."--_prof. t. b. wakeman_. "that his religion of humanity took the deistical form was an evolutionary necessity."--_dr. conway_. "the prophet of the religion of humanity and the precursor of our modern monism."--_prof. ernst haeckel_. "how few there are who realize that thomas paine anticipated spencer's thought [equal liberty] by many decades, that, more briefly and graphically, he formulated the only principle that can weave enduring order and peace into the fabric of society."--_edwin c. walker_. leonard abbott: "paine's mind was germinal: in it were the seeds of all modern religious, economical, and political movements." william h. maple: "the light of truth fell in such grand refulgence upon this man as to enable him to utter truisms enough to furnish texts for reformers for a thousand years to come." "the moral originality and courage of his teaching in every direction is astonishing."--_john m. robertson_. stephen pearl andrews: "the true chief-priest of humanity is the man who solves the greatest obstacles in the progress of mankind; and you must not be surprised if i rank thomas paine not only as a priest, but as perhaps the real chief-priest, or pontifex-maximus of his age." joel barlow: "the biographer of thomas paine should not forget his mathematical acquirements and his mechanical genius. his invention of the iron bridge, which led him to europe in , has procured him a great reputation in that branch of science in france and england." m. chaptal: "they [plans for iron bridge over seine] will be of the greatest utility to us when the new kind of construction goes to be executed for the first time.... you have rights of more than one kind to the gratitude of nations." international encyclopedia: "in paine went to france, where he exhibited his bridge to the academy of science in paris. he also visited england, and was lionized in london by the party of burke and fox. he set up the model of his bridge in addington green, and huge crowds went to see it." "this [model of iron bridge] was publicly exhibited in paris and london and attracted great crowds."--_encyclopedia britannica_. sir ralph milbank: "with respect to the bridge over the river wear at sunderland, it certainly is a work well deserving admiration both for its structure, durability, and utility, and i have good grounds for saying that the first idea was taken from mr. paine's bridge exhibited at paddington." mr. foljambe, m. p.: "i saw the rib of your [paine's] bridge. in point of elegance and beauty it far exceeded my expectations and is certainly beyond anything i ever saw." george stephenson: "if we are to consider paine as its [the iron bridge's] author, his daring in engineering certainly does full justice to the fervor of his political career." when the building of the brooklyn bridge was celebrated the rev. robert collyer called attention to the fact that to thomas paine belonged the credit of inventing the iron bridge and deplored the ignorance and prejudice which had caused the speakers to ignore it. sir richard phillips: "in thomas paine proposed, in america, this application of steam [the steamboat]." watson's annals of philadelphia: "in june, , john fitch called on the ingenious william henry, esq., of lancaster, to take his opinion of his draughts, who informed him that he (fitch) was not the first person who had thought of applying steam to vessels, for that thomas paine, author of 'common sense,' had suggested the same to him (henry) in the winter of ." concerning paine's connection with this invention dr. conway says: "among his intimate friends at this time [about ] was robert fulton, then residing in paris. paine's extensive studies of the steam engine and his early discovery of its adaptability to navigation had caused rumsey to seek him in england and fitch to consult him both in, america and paris. paine's connection with the invention of the steamboat was recognized by fulton as, indeed, by all of his scientific contemporaries. to fulton he freely gave his ideas" (life of paine, vol. ii, p. ). "in the controversy between rumsey and fitch, paine's priority to both is conceded" (ibid). "a machine for planing boards was his next invention."--_madame bonneville_. james parton: "a benefactor... who conceived the planing machine and the iron bridge. a glorious monument to his honor swells aloft in many of our great towns. the principle of his arch now sustains the marvelous railroad depots that half abolish the distinction between in-doors and out." in a letter to jefferson, in , paine anticipates and suggests the explosive engine of today. "the explosive engines which now drive machines over highways and waters and through the air are the perfection of paine's explosive power."--_a. outram sherman_. one of paine's minor inventions which attracted the attention and received the approval of franklin was an improved light. another invention, an improved carriage wheel, was greatly admired. after paine's death robert fulton made a drawing of the model and deposited it at washington. robert r. livingston (to paine in paris): "make your will; leave the mechanics, the iron bridge, the wheels, etc., to america." joseph n. moreau: "the archimedes of the eighteenth century." elihu palmer: "probably the most useful man that ever lived." refutation of charges of immorality. louis masquerier: "paine who wrote in man's defense, 'rights of man' and 'common sense, let not pious virulence stain his honest fame." paine has been represented by his religious enemies as the embodiment of all that is bad. he was, they assert, drunken, filthy, and immoral. banished from respectable society, he associated, they say, only with the low and vile. the following testimony covers all the years that elapsed from the beginning of his public career to the end of his life. dr. franklin, writing from england while paine was yet a resident of that country, says: "mr. thomas paine is very well recommended to me as an ingenious worthy young man." that his previous life had been above serious reproach is shown by a letter to the excise office in which he says: "no complaint of the least dishonesty or intemperance has ever appeared against me." james b. elliot: "paine's pamphlet ['case of the officers of excise'] secured for him the acquaintance of oliver goldsmith, who became and remained his friend until his death, and by whom he was introduced to benjamin franklin." "at a coffeehouse in london paine met that other great thinker, franklin. they became fast friends."--_elbert hubbard_. "invited by franklin he went to america."--_encyclopedia of social reform_. "his associates in philadelphia were people of the highest respectability and importance.... he was welcomed everywhere."--_james b. elliott_. referring to his first year in america bancroft says: "in that time he had frequented the society of rittenhouse, clymer and samuel adams." dr. rush says: "he visited in the families of dr. franklin, mr. rittenhouse and mr. george clymer." referring to the members of the philosophical society, founded by franklin, dr. conway says: "paine was welcomed into their circle by rittenhouse, clymer, rush, muhlenberg, and other representatives of the scientific and literary metropolis." writing in his journal at a later period john hall, the english mechanician who then resided in philadelphia, mentions among paine's visitors and intimate associates franklin, gouverneur morris, dr. rush, tench francis, robert morris, rittenhouse, etc. the library of the world's best literature alludes to scientific experiments made by paine "for the entertainment of washington whose guest he was for some time." francis marion lemmon: "when my father [a son of one of washington's officers] was about twelve years of age he was employed by george washington to carry messages from his military camp to that of his father and other military posts, and for about four years lived as one of the family of washington. it was my father's privilege during his service with washington to meet and become acquainted with a number of the most popular and influential men of that time--such as thomas jefferson, benjamin franklin, john adams, thomas paine, general lafayette and general francis marion.... my father told me, when i was a boy, of the visits these men paid to uncle george and aunt martha washington, as he always called them, and he told me that aunt martha always called paine 'brother tom' and always looked forward when a visit of brother tom was expected." alluding to paine's conduct and public services during the revolution, dr. conway says: "they are best measured in the value set on them by the great leaders most cognizant of them,--by washington, franklin, jefferson, adams, madison, robert morris, chancellor livingston, r. h. lee, colonel laurens, general greene, dickinson. had there been anything dishonorable or mercenary in paine's career, these are the men who would have known it; but their letters are searched in vain for even the faintest hint of anything disparaging to his patriotic self-devotion during those eight weary years." henry adams: "thomas paine, down to the time of his departure for europe, in , was a fashionable member of society [in new york], admired and courted as the greatest literary genius of his day." the oldest and one of the most powerful political organizations in this country, outside of the regular political parties, is the tammany society of new york. whatever shortcomings may be justly charged to this society in later times it was in its earlier days, when devoted mainly to social and benevolent purposes, one of the most honorable and respectable of societies. paine was the hero of this society. dr. conway says: "at the great celebration (october , ) of the third centenary of the discovery of america, by the sons of st. tammany, new york, the first man toasted after columbus was paine, and next to paine 'the rights of man,' they were also extolled in an ode composed for the occasion, and sung." paine was at this time a resident of france. "visited france in the summer of , where he made the acquaintance of buffon, malesherbes, la rochefoucauld, and other eminent men."--_chambers' encyclopedia_. "dr. robinet, the french historian, says on this visit ( ) paine, who had long known the 'soul of the people,' came into' relation with eminent men of all groups, philosophical and political--condorcet, achille duchatelet, cardinal de brienne, and, he believes also danton, who like the english republican [paine] was a freemason."--_dr. conway_. gilbert patten brown (in masonic monthly, july, ): "in the st. john's regimental lodge (the first masonic body to be constituted among the troops) thomas paine (like capt. james monroe, capt. john marshall and many other of minor mention) was entered, crafted and raised a master mason." franklin, who in introduced paine to the new world as "an ingenious worthy young man" in , after an acquaintance of thirteen years, reaffirms his former estimate of the man. in a letter of introduction to the duke of rochefoucauld he says: "the bearer of this is mr. paine, the author of a famous piece entitled 'common sense,' published with great effect on the minds of the people at the beginning of the revolution. he is an ingenious, honest man; and as such i beg leave to recommend him to your civilities." lamb's biographical dictionary: "visiting london, he at once became a social and diplomatic feature of that metropolis." thomas "clio" rickman: "mr. paine's life in london was a quiet round of philosophical leisure and enjoyment.... lord edward fitzgerald, the french and american embassadors, mr. sharp, the engraver, romney, the painter, mrs. wollstonecraft, joel barlow,... dr. priestley,... mr. horne tooke, etc., were among the number of his friends and acquaintances." "his manners were easy and gracious; his knowledge was universal and boundless; in private company and among his friends his conversation had every fascination that anecdote, novelty and truth could give it." "mr. paine in his person was about five feet ten inches high, and rather athletic.... his eye, of which the painter could not convey the exquisite meaning, was full, brilliant and singularly piercing." alexander wilson: "the penetration and intelligence of his eye bespeak the man of genius." john adams, in a letter to his wife, refers to paine as "a man who, general lee says, has genius in his eyes." carlyle describes him as "the man with the black beaming eyes." walter morton, who was with him when he died, says, "his eye glistened with genius under the pangs of death." dr. thomas cooper: "i have dined with mr. paine in literary society, in london, at least a dozen times, when his dress, manners, and conversation were such as became the character of an unobtrusive intelligent gentleman, accustomed to good society." regarding paine's associations in england his biographer, dr. conway, says: "there [rotherham] and in london he was 'lionized' as franklin had been in paris. we find him now passing a week with edmund burke, now at the country seat of the duke of portland, or enjoying the hospitalities of lord fitzwilliam at wentworth house. he is entertained and consulted on public affairs by fox, lord landsdowne, sir george staunton, sir joseph banks." "the americans in london--the artists west and trumbull, the alexanders (franklin's connections), and others were fond of him as a friend and proud of him as a countryman."--_ibid_. "his personal acquaintance," says dr. conway, "included nearly every great or famous man of his time, in england, america, france." paine not only enjoyed the friendship and esteem of the notables of the world, he was the idol of the common people who knew him. before the revolution in france began he spent two years in england, engaged a part of the time perfecting his iron bridge. the leading manufacturing firm of rotherham encouraged him and fitted up a shop for him to work in. nearly a half century later professor lesley of philadelphia, then a young man, visited rotherham. notwithstanding the long time that had elapsed he found paine's memory still green and one of the cherished possessions of yorkshire. the results of his visit are thus related by dr. conway: "professor lesley of philadelphia tells me that when visiting in early life the works at rotherham, paine's workshop and the very tools he used were pointed out. they were preserved with care. he conversed with an aged and intelligent workman who had worked under paine as a lad. professor lesley, who had shared some of the prejudice against paine, was impressed by the earnest words of the old man. mr. paine he said was the most honest man, and the best man he ever knew. after he had been there a little time everybody looked up to him, the walkers and their workmen. he knew the people for miles round, and went into their homes; his benevolence, his friendliness, his knowledge, made him beloved by all, rich and poor. his memory had always lasted there." m. and madame de bonneville: "not a day [in paris] escaped without his receiving many visits. mr. barlow, mr. [robert] fulton, mr. [sir robert] smith, came very often to see him. many travelers also called on him." "paine was, indeed, so overrun with visitors and adventurers that he appropriated two mornings of each week at the philadelphia house for levees. these, however, became insufficient to stem the constant stream of visitors, including spies and lion-hunters, so that he had little time for consultation with the men and women whose cooperation he needed in public affairs. he therefore leased an out-of-the-way house [the old madame pompadour mansion], reserving knowledge of it for particular friends, while still retaining his address at the philadelphia house, where the levees were continued."--_dr. conway_. "here [at paine's house] gathered sympathetic spirits from america, england, france, germany, holland, switzerland, freed from prejudices of race, rank, or nationality."--_ibid_. "and now the old hotel became the republican capitol of europe. there sat an international premier with his cabinet."--_ibid_. "a grand dinner was given by paine at the hotel de ville to dumouriez, where this brilliant general met brissot, condorcet, santerre, and several eminent english radicals."--_ibid._ "in the beautiful courtyard of the palais royal, i saw today for the first time the statue of camille desmoulins, one of the most heroic figures of the french revolution.... he was one of paine's warmest friends in paris. desmoulins had known paine when the latter was a member of the convention and doubtless was one of the interesting coterie that met at paine's house in the faubourg st. denis."--_william m. van der weyde_. "when bonaparte returned from italy he called on paine and invited him to dinner."--_clio rickman_. "among the persons i was in the habit of receiving paine deserves to be mentioned."--_madame roland._ among paine's most intimate french friends, besides the bonnevilles with whom he lived for several years, were the rolands, the brissots, the condorcets, and the lafayettes, france's purest and noblest souls. baron pichon: "paine lived in monroe's house at paris." while james monroe was minister to france paine was for a year and a half a member of his household, enjoying in the highest degree the esteem of both mr. and mrs. monroe. paine was one of the most amiable of men and possessed a most charming personality. nicolas and margaret bonneville, with whom he resided in paris, in a biographical sketch of him, written after his death and revised by cobbett, bear this testimony: "thomas paine loved his friends with sincere and tender affection. his simplicity of heart and that happy kind of openness, or rather, carelessness, which charms our hearts in reading the fables of the good lafontaine, made him extremely amiable. if little children were near him he patted them, searched his pockets for the store of cakes, biscuits, sugar-plums, pieces of sugar, of which he used to take possession as of a treasure belonging to them, and the distribution of which belonged to him." "he was always gentle to children and to animals."--_ellery sedgwick_. the deep affection entertained for paine by his parisian friends was shown when, grievously ill and believed to be dying, he was carried from his cot in the luxembourg to the home of the monroes. i quote again from dr. conway: "paine had been restored by the tenderness and devotion of friends. had it not been for friendship he could hardly have been saved. we are little able, in the present day, to appreciate the reverence and affection with which thomas paine was regarded by those who saw in him the greatest apostle of liberty in the world.... in paris there were ladies and gentlemen who had known something of the cost of liberty--col. and mrs. monroe, sir robert and lady smith, madame lafayette, mr. and mrs. barlow, m. and madame de bonneville. they had known what it was to watch through anxious nights with terrors surrounding them. he who % had suffered most was to them a sacred person. he had come out of the succession of ordeals, so weak in body, so wounded by american ingratitude, so sore at heart, that no delicate child needed more tender care.... men say their arthur is dead, but their love is stronger than death. and though the service of these friends might at first have been reverential, it ended with attachment, so great was paine's power, so wonderful and pathetic his memories, so charming the play of his wit, so full his response to kindness." "in luxembourg prison," says conway, "he won all hearts." augustus c. buel: "jones [john paul] liked tom paine and paine almost worshiped jones [they were in paris]. all through the american revolution they had been fast friends, familiarly calling each other 'tom' and 'paul.'" joseph mazzini wheeler: "landor [walter savage] told my friend mr. birch of florence that he particularly admired paine, and that he visited him, having first obtained an interview at the house of general dumouriez [the most famous general of the revolution]. landor declared that paine was always called 'tom,' not out of disrespect, but because he was a jolly good fellow." lord edward fitzgerald (to his mother): "i lodge with my friend paine [in paris]; we breakfast, dine, and sup together. the more i see of his interior the more i like and respect him. i cannot express how kind he is to me. there is a simplicity of manner, a goodness of heart, and a strength of mind in him that i never knew a man before to possess." lady lucy fitzgerald: "although he [lord edward] was unsuccessful in the glorious attempt of liberating his country [ireland] from slavery, still he was not unmindful of the lessons you taught him. accept, then, his picture from his unhappy sister. its place is in your house; my heart will be satisfied with such a pantheon: it knows no consolation but the approbation of such men as you, and the soothing recollection that he did his duty and died faithful to the cause of liberty." zachariah wilkes: "let me tell you what he did for me. i was arrested in paris and condemned to die. i had no friend here; and it was at a time when no friend would have served me: robespierre ruled. 'i am innocent!' i cried in desperation. 'i am innocent, so help me god! i am condemned for the offense of another.' i wrote a statement of my case with a pencil; thinking at first of addressing it to my judge, then of directing it to the president of the convention." [wilkes, who was an englishman, had important business to transact which involved his honor and he could not bear the thought of dying with it unperformed. the jailer referred him to paine, who, though a prisoner, had much influence with the authorities.] "he [paine] examined me closer than my judge had done; he required my proofs. after a long time i satisfied him. he then said: 'the leaders of the convention would rather have my life than yours. if by any means i can obtain your release on my own security, will you promise me to return in twenty days?'" wilkes promised to return. paine then obtained permission for him to leave the prison, guaranteeing his return and agreeing to take his place at the guillotine if he failed to do so. wilkes kept his word. he returned to the prison, drawing from paine the exclamation, "there is yet english blood in england!" wilkes had been opposed to paine both in politics and religion. another instance of paine's noble magnanimity is related by dr. conway: "this personage [captain grimstone, r. a.], during a dinner party at the palais egalité, got into a controversy with paine, and, forgetting that the english jove could not in paris answer argument with thunder, called paine a traitor to his country and struck him a violent blow. death was the penalty for striking a deputy and paine's friends were not unwilling to see the penalty inflicted on this stout young captain who had struck a man of fifty-six. paine had much trouble in obtaining from barrere, of the committee of public safety, a passport out of the country for captain grimstone, whose traveling expenses were supplied by the man he had struck." lady smith: "if the usual style of gallantry was as clever as your 'new covenant' [a beautiful poem by paine addressed to lady smith] many a fair lady's heart would be in danger; but the little corner of the world [lady smith] receives it from the castle in the air [paine]; it is agreeable to her as being the elegant fancy of a friend." sir robert and lady smith were paine's most devoted english friends in paris. when paine was languishing in prison lady smith wrote him letters of cheer and comfort, signing herself "little corner of the world." frederick freeman: "he [captain rowland crocker] had taken the great napoleon by the hand; he had familiarly known paine.... he remembered paine as a well-dressed and most gentlemanly man, of sound and orthodox republican principles, of a good heart, a strong intellect, and a fascinating address." among the many calumnies circulated against paine is the charge that during his later years, after he wrote the "age of reason," he was, both in france and in america, a drunkard. this charge is false. paine was one of the most temperate men of his time. concerning his use of intoxicants in france his old friend clio rickman, who visited him in paris, who was with him during his last day in that city, and who accompanied him to havre when he sailed for america, says: "he did not drink spirits, and wine he took moderately; he even objected to any spirits being laid in as a part of his sea-stock." hon. e. b. washburne, who made a thorough investigation of paine's career in france, bears the following testimony: "a somewhat extended study of the french revolution during the extraordinary period in which paine was so intimately connected with it, fails to show anything to the prejudice of his personal or political character." "returned to the united states on the invitation of jefferson in ."--_library of world's best literature_. charles t. sprading: "jefferson offered him return passage from europe on a united states man-of-war." national intelligencer (washington, nov. , ): "thomas paine has arrived in this city and has received a cordial reception from the whigs of seventy-six and the republicans of ." "he was cordially received by the president, thomas jefferson. he also visited the heads of the departments."--_boston post_. philadelphia aurora, washington correspondent of (november , ): "his address is unaffected and unceremonious. he neither shuns nor courts observation. at table he enjoys what is good with the appetite of temperance and vigor, and puts to shame his calumniators by the moderation with which he partakes of the common beverage of the boarders.... i am proud to find a man whose political writings upon the whole have never been equaled, and whom i have admired on that account, free from the contamination of debauchery and habits of inebriety which have been so grossly and falsely sent abroad concerning him." dr. samuel latham mitchell, m. c. (washington, dec. , ): "at mr. gallatin's i saw for the first time the celebrated thomas paine. we had some conversation before dinner and we sat side by side at the table.... this extraordinary man contributed exceedingly much to entertain the company." albert gallatin was at this time secretary of the treasury. referring to this period, including all the remaining years of his life, conway says: "paine's defamers have manifested an eagerness to ascribe his maltreatment to personal faults. this is not the case.... he was neat in his attire. in all portraits, french and american, his dress is in accordance with the fashion. there was not, so far as i can discover, a suggestion while he was at washington, that he was not a suitable guest for any drawing-room in the capital." gilbert vale, next to dr. conway, one of paine's best biographers, says: "mr. paine was as much esteemed in his private life as in his public. he was a welcome visitor to the tables of the most distinguished citizens.... he possessed every prominent virtue in large proportions, and to these he added the most social qualities." annie cary morris: "mr. jefferson, it was said, received him warmly, dined him at the white house, and could be seen walking arm in arm with him on the street any fine afternoon." "the author [paine] was for some days a guest in the president's family."--_dr. conway_. in his old age paine received the following, one of many similar assurances of jefferson's affection: "that you may live long to continue your useful labors, and reap the reward in the thankfulness of nations, is my sincere prayer. accept the assurances of my high esteem and affectionate attachment." "jefferson's dearest friend," says albert payson terhune, "was thomas paine." albert badeau: "my mother [in whose mother's family, prominent and wealthy residents of new rochelle, paine boarded for a time during his later years] would never tolerate the aspersions on mr. paine. she declared steadfastly to the end of her life that he was a perfect gentleman, and a most faithful friend, amiable, gentle, never intemperate in eating or drinking. my mother declared that my grandmother equally pronounced the disparaging reports about mr. paine slanders. i never remembered to have seen my mother angry except when she heard such calumnies of mr. paine, when she would almost insult those who uttered them. my mother and grandmother were very religious, members of the episcopal church." the handsome monument erected to paine at new rochelle is said to have been suggested by mrs. badeau. d. burger (one of paine's acquaintances at new rochelle, who often took him out riding): "mr. paine was really abstemious, and when pressed to drink by those on whom he called during his rides he usually refused with great firmness, but politely." d. m. bennett of new york, writing forty years ago, says: "i have conversed with major a. coutant and mr. barker of new rochelle, now very far advanced in life, but who distinctly remember mr. paine. they remember him as a pleasant, genial man, who lived on good terms with his neighbors and was not known to ever have been intoxicated." judge j. b. stallo, minister to italy during president cleveland's administration, told dr. conway "that in early life he visited the place [new rochelle] and saw persons who had known paine, and who declared that paine resided there without fault." judge tabor: "i was an associate editor of the new york _beacon_ with col. john fellows, then ( ) advanced in years but retaining all the vigor and fire of his manhood. he was a ripe scholar, a most agreeable companion, and had been the correspondent and friend of jefferson, madison, monroe and john quincy adams, under all of whom he held a responsible office. one of his productions was dedicated, by permission, to adams and was republished and favorably received in england. colonel fellows was the soul of honor and inflexible in his adhesion to truth. he was intimate with paine during the whole time he lived after returning to this country, and boarded for a year in the same house with him. i also was acquainted with judge herttell of new york city, a man of wealth and position, being a member of the new york legislature, both in the senate and assembly, and serving likewise on the judicial bench. like colonel fellows he was an author and a man of unblemished life and irreproachable character. these men assured me of their own knowledge derived from constant personal intercourse during the last seven years of paine's life that he never kept any company but what was entirely respectable, and that all accusations of drunkenness were grossly untrue. they saw him under all circumstances and _knew_ that he was never intoxicated. nay, more, they said for that day he was even abstemious." w. j. hilton ( ): "it is over twenty years ago that professionally i made the acquaintance of john hogeboom, a justice of the peace of rensselaer county, new york. he was then over seventy years of age and had the reputation of being a man of candor and integrity. he was a great admirer of paine. he told me that he was personally acquainted with him and used to see him frequently during the last years of his life in the city of new york, where hogeboom then resided. i asked him if there was any truth in the charge that paine was in the habit of getting drunk. he said that it was utterly false; that he never heard of such a thing during the lifetime cf mr. paine and did not believe anyone else did." mr. lovet (proprietor of city hotel, new york): "paine boarded for a time at my hotel. he drank the least of all my boarders." gilbert vale says: "we know more than twenty persons who were more or less acquainted with mr. paine, and not one of whom ever saw him in liquor." "we know that he was not only temperate in after life, but even abstemious." "he was accused of offenses he had never committed and of conduct impossible to him."--_library of the world's best literature_. "that he was a very likeable man is shown... by the prediction of the brilliant home tooke that whoever should be at a certain dinner party, paine would be sure to say the best things said; and by the friendships he made so easily. in middle age, at least, he was fastidious in his dress, inclined to elegance in his manners, and attractive in looks."--_ibid_. "there are eleven original portraits of thomas paine, besides a death mask, a bust, and the profile copied in this [conway's] work.... in all of the original portraits of paine his dress is neat and in accordance with fashion."--_dr. conway_. the foregoing testimonials regarding paine's personal appearance and dress are equally true of his old age. the jarvis painting, executed when he was an old man of sixty-seven, is a mute witness to this. this portrait is that of a handsome, temperate, well-preserved man. it is of itself a standing refutation of the slanders of his defamers, and especially of the charge that he was addicted to drunkenness in his old age. aaron burr: "i always considered mr. paine a gentleman, a pleasant companion, and a good-natured and intelligent man, _decidedly temperate_." regarding another base calumny, dr. conway says: "during paine's life the world heard no hint of sexual immorality connected with him, but after his death cheetham published [in his 'life of paine'] the following: 'paine brought with him from paris, and from her husband in whose house he had lived, margaret brazier bonneville, and her three sons. thomas has the features, countenance, and temper of paine.'" madame bonneville was a lady of unblemished character, educated, cultured and refined. for this vile insinuation its author, a disreputable publisher of new york, who boasted of having nine libel suits pending against him at one time, was pronounced guilty of slander by a jury composed mostly of christians. counsellor sampson (cheetham's prosecutor): "it is argued that everything should be intended to favor the defendant, who has written so godly a work against the prince of deists and for the holy gospel.... his book, a godly book--a vile obscene, and filthy compilation, which bears throughout the character of rancorous malice!" commenting on this case, ellery sedgwick, the able editor of the _atlantic monthly_, in his beacon biography of paine, says: "the evidence which her (madame bonneville's) lawyers adduced at the trial was conclusive, and the jury found cheetham guilty; but judge hoffman, with casuistry worthy of his version of christianity, held that mr. cheetham, while guilty of libel, had written a very useful book in favor of religion, and fixed the damages at the modest sum of $ . thus sheltered, cheetham's lies grew into history." some years ago the evangelist, rev. dr. r. a. torrey, while in england, made a brutal attack upon paine's character, repeating the slanders that have been circulated against him. w. t. stead, the noted editor and publisher of the _review of reviews_, london, who later perished on the ill-fated titanic, in his magazine defended paine and refuted the slanders of torrey. of the madame bonneville slander he says: "the 'commonly believed outrageous action' [quoting torrey] of thomas paine in living with another man's wife was shown to have been the kindly hospitality shown by an old man of sixty-seven to the refugee family of his french benefactor. the only man who had ever imputed a shadow of obloquy to paine in this connection went into the witness-box after paine's death and solemnly swore that there was no foundation for his calumny." the basis of this calumny was one of the many noble acts of paine's life. when it became known that napoleon had designs against the liberties of france, and was planning to elevate himself to power, paine and bonneville opposed him. concerning the results of this rupture stead quotes from conway as follows: "in return bonaparte suppressed bonneville's paper, threw bonneville into prison and placed paine in surveillance. afterwards by the intervention of the american minister paine was permitted to leave the country. bonneville was forbidden to quit france. a year after paine crossed the atlantic madame bonneville with her children escaped to america.... so far from paine having taken bonneville's wife away from her husband, he did everything to induce napoleon to free bonneville from surveillance and to allow him to rejoin his wife in new york." stead finally forced torrey to eat his words and to make the following retraction: "it is the obligation of those who make the charges to prove them, and to my mind this particular charge against paine has not been proven." m. and madame bonneville had befriended paine, had invited him to their home where for years he enjoyed their hospitality. when bonneville was imprisoned and impoverished and his family reduced to penury, paine would have been a base ingrate had he not befriended them. dr. lucy waite: "the one circumstance in the life of thomas paine that to my mind more than any other reflects credit upon him as a man, has been made the target of the most bitter attacks against him--his relations to madame bonneville.... his detractors would no doubt have considered it a more 'moral' act if he had sent them to the poor-farm instead of to his own farm at new rochelle; but to the everlasting credit of this great man he defied the town gossips, and made them comfortable in his own home." slanders concerning paine's marital troubles have been published. he was married twice before coming to america, in to mary lambert, who died, and in to elizabeth olive, from whom he was separated. the separation was by mutual consent and nothing discreditable to either party was alleged. as to the cause of the separation all that is known, or rather surmised, is stated in mcclintock and strong's cyclopedia, an orthodox authority: "his first wife had died about a year after their marriage; he lived about three years with his second, when they separated by mutual consent, it is said, on account of her physical disability." paine's subsequent treatment of his wife was in the highest degree honorable. he had but little property, but what he had he gave to her. regarding his conduct in this matter clio rickman, his most intimate friend in england, and a highly honorable man, bears this testimony: "this i can assert, that mr. paine always spoke tenderly and respectfully of his wife; and sent her several times pecuniary aid, without her knowing even whence it came." concerning this slander w. t. stead says: "no one even among paine's worst libelers suggests that she had any reason of complaint against him." one of paine's calumniators, "francis oldys" (george chalmers), a pretended biographer of paine whose statements are nearly all false or misleading, says that while he was an excise officer he bought smuggled tobacco and was dismissed from the service for the offense. this statement is false. dr. conway says: "i have before me the minutes of the board concerning paine, and there is no hint whatever of any such accusation." falsehoods generally grow rather than diminish with age, and now we are told that paine himself was a smuggler and was dismissed for smuggling. the excise laws were the most odious laws in england, odious alike to the people and to the excise officers, who were underpaid (fifty pounds a year) and otherwise mistreated. paine espoused the cause of his fellow excisemen and in a memorial addressed to parliament pleaded for a redress of their grievances. his activity in this matter offended the government and a trivial irregularity commonly practiced by the excisemen was made a pretext for his dismissal. the everyman encyclopedia: "became an excise officer, but agitating for the removal of grievances, was dismissed from the service." had paine been discharged for any dishonest or immoral act franklin would have known it and would not have recommended him as "a worthy young man." paine's dismissal was for him, for england, for america and for the world one of the most fortunate things that ever occurred. his loss of the excise office which occurred in april, , took him to america in november of the same year. the independence of the united states and the agitation in behalf of popular government throughout the civilized world followed as a result. rev. willet hicks, a quaker minister, who was with paine when he died, testified that emissaries of the church tried to bribe him to slander paine. he says: "i could have had any sums if i would have said anything against thomas paine, or if even i would have consented to remain silent. they informed me that the doctor was willing to say something that would satisfy them if i would engage to be silent. mr. paine was a good man--an honest man." rev. g. h. humphrey: "he was honest. nor was he uncharitable. he abstained from profanity and rebuked it in others." boston post (jan. , ): "calumny has blistered her relentless hand in trying to stamp him as profane, intemperate and mendacious. the real truth appears to be that he was never habituated to profanity, to drunkenness, nor to falsehood; and that his calumniators are unconsciously his eulogists." the manchester _guardian_, probably the most influential journal in the british empire, outside of london, says that while the popular conception of paine is that of a blatant and immoral demagogue he was noted by his companions "for his shyness, his benevolence, and his gentleness." joel barlow, who saw much of him, both in london and paris, as well as in america, says: "he was one of the most benevolent and disinterested of mankind." "he was always charitable to the poor beyond his means." clio rickman, most intimate of all his associates, says: "he was mild, unoffending, sincere, gentle, humble and unassuming." dr. bond, who was imprisoned with him in the luxembourg, says: "he was the most conscientious man i ever knew." james parton says: "he loved the truth for its own sake; and he stood by what he conceived to be the truth when all around him reviled it." ellery sedgwick says: "the goal which he sought was the happiness of his fellow-men." hon. george w. julian, the first antislavery nominee for vice-president, one of the founders of the republican party, and for many years a distinguished leader in congress, says: "paine was a perfectly unselfish and incorruptible patriot; he was a philanthropist in the best sense of the word; he was a man of the rarest intelligence and moral courage." charles watts of england says: "thomas paine had a generous and affectionate nature, a mind superior to fear and selfish interests; a mind governed by the principles of uniform rectitude and integrity; a mind the same in prosperity and adversity; a mind which no bribe could seduce and no terror overawe." eva ingersoll brown: "thomas paine was one of the mental and moral giants of his time. he ranked among the foremost of his age. he was royal in rectitude, kingly in compassion, sovereign in sympathy. his reverence for truth and justice was sublime; his love of mercy and his ardor for liberty were unsurpassed.... his was a religion untainted by touch of dogma or of sect; a thing stainless and pure; of wondrous beauty and grandeur." while the orthodox clergy, with a few noble exceptions, have been, to their overlasting shame, mainly responsible for the ignorance and prejudice that have prevailed concerning thomas paine, liberal ministers, many of them, to their eternal honor, have braved public sentiment and dared to do him justice. in an address more than fifty years ago the rev. moncure d. conway paid this tribute to the moral character of thomas paine: "in his life, in his justice, in his truth, in his adherence to high principles, i look in vain for a parallel in those times and in these times. i am selecting my words. i know i am to be held accountable for them." rev. theodore parker says: "i think he did more to promote piety and morality among men than a hundred ministers of that age in america." prof. l. f. laybarger: "great was thomas paine intellectually, morally he was greater." col. e. a. stevens: "may americans long appreciate the genius and reverence the virtues of their noble benefactor, for he left them a legacy greater than his works--the contemplation of his high-souled, unselfish character." every person who has charged paine with immorality has either invented a falsehood or repeated one. the character of paine; was as blameless as that of washington. both men, in their last days, were bitterly assailed by political enemies. with their deaths political censure, for the most part, ceased. but paine's religious opinions were not forgotten, and could not be forgiven. his "age of reason" continued to be read, and remained unanswered, because unanswerable. what "common sense" had done to kingcraft in america the "age of reason" promised to do to priestcraft throughout the world. in her desperation the church seized her only available weapon, slander. every inventor of a calumny against paine was hailed as a defender of the faith. unscrupulous biographers and historians, like cheetham and mcmaster, to curry favor with the church, have recorded these calumnies as facts; and others, accepting these writers as reliable authorities, have innocently repeated them. many who have acknowledged paine's services to mankind have felt compelled to apologize for his supposed errors. sir leslie stephen, who had accepted some of these charges, thus frankly admits that he had been deceived: "i regret to say that i had accepted certain charges against paine's character, which mr. conway has shown to rest upon worse than suspicious evidence.... i fully admit that i was entirely misled by a hasty reliance upon worthless testimony." (_history of english thought in the eighteenth century, rd ed., vol. ii, p. , note._) william h. burr: "while the corpse of the philanthropist lay cooling in the ground the english tory cheetham wrote a biography full of malignity and detraction." cheetham had a double motive in writing his life of paine--revenge and gain. he was an englishman and had been an ardent republican. but he had betrayed his party and as a result of this he and paine became engaged in a bitter controversy. paine's punishment of the renegade was terrible. his wounds still smarting when his adversary died, cheetham wreaked his vengeance by writing a book in which he presented as facts all the calumnies that paine's political and religious enemies had circulated concerning him, supplemented by all that his own malignant mind could invent. realizing that his career in america was ended he had decided to return to england and the book, he believed, would win for him the favor and patronage of england's two most powerful institutions, the tory government and the orthodox church. "when, therefore, a party hack, as cheetham doubtless was, disappointed and a renegade, with talents, as he certainly possessed, but embittered in feelings and regardless of truth, as all circumstances contribute to show--what could be expected from such a man but just what he produced, a life of paine abounding in bold falsehoods, cunningly contrived, and addressed to a people who wished to be deceived."--_gilbert vale_. "cheetham's book is one of the most malicious ever written."--_dr. conway_. "we have no hesitation in saying that we knew perfectly well at the time the motives of that author [cheetham] for writing and publishing a work, which, we have every reason to believe, is a libel almost from beginning to end."--_rev. solomon southwick._ eighteen years prior to the appearance of cheetham's book george chalmers, an english writer, under the pseudonymn of "francis oldys," backed by the friends of the english tory government and for a consideration, it is claimed, of £ , to counteract the influence of the "rights of man" which was threatening to overthrow monarchy in england, wrote a pretended biography of paine filled with slander and vituperation. referring to this book and the corrupt english political and religious age in which it was written, edward smith, an english author, writing nearly a century later, characterizes it as "one of the most horrible collections of abuse which even that venal day produced." excepting cheetham and chalmers, all of the biographers of paine--conway, vale, rickman, sedgwick, sherwin, blanchard, linton and others--have endeavored to do him justice. but cheetham's and chalmer's books have been the arsenals where the orthodox of england and america have gone for their weapons with which to attack the author of the "age of reason." not only have they tried to suppress paine's book, they have tried to banish from the public library and book-store every work that has appeared in defense of it or its author. for three-quarters of a century the only biographies of paine to be found in the london library were those of cheetham and chalmers; the only one to be found in the public libraries of america was that of cheetham. is it any wonder, then, that nearly all the pictures of paine, even those drawn by friendly hands, to be found in our histories, biographical dictionaries, encyclopedias and other works, should be largely caricatures? one of the foulest of these caricatures is that drawn by the historian john bach mcmaster. for this writer's scurrilous attack on paine no excuse can be offered. the plea of ignorance of paine's true character and history cannot be urged in his behalf. he had before him the authentic records of paine's career, in america, at least. he knew that his statements were untruthful and unjust. his tirade of abuse is seemingly for the sole purpose of securing for his books the endorsement of the clerical bigots who dominate our schools and colleges. louisa harding: "one would imagine that even the religious bigot would know that he [mcmaster] drew for us the picture of a great man, looming up tall and wide behind the chronicler who strove to pull him down.... in the course of a careful, impartial investigation of the various lives of, and articles on, paine, it became necessary to resort to the explanation of blinding religious prejudice; and that, too, having failed to fit the case, there seems to be no recourse save to use a shorter, uglier word--john bach mcmaster _lies_." a little while ago a prominent american, misled by paine's calumniators and too proud to retract it when the error was called to his attention, applied to the author-hero the brutal epithet "filthy little atheist"--three falsehoods in three words, for paine was neither filthy, little, nor an atheist. [see the works of president theodore roosevelt for this quotation of his opinion of thomas paine. dw] "every syllable of that characterization is a shameful falsehood."--_william m. salter, a.m._ "one of the most transparently false and indefensible slanders that ever came from lip or pen."--_j. p. bland, b. d._ "was he filthy? he was the friend and associate of washington and franklin. he was a member of the most conspicuous philosophical society in the new world. he was associated with the most distinguished men of the philosophical circles of france. was he little? he entered an intellectual combat with edmund burke, and won immortal renown. was he little? he was big enough and mighty enough to make the throne of great britain tremble. was he little? he was big enough to make in america as well as in france the cause of human liberty his debtor forever "--_dr. john e. roberts._ commenting on this slander the _nation_ of england says: "after all, our feelings of resentment at such a brutality are assuaged by the reflection that whereas, this man, will in a quick generation sink to the obscurity from which a series of accidents lifted him for a few years, history will gradually set in its proper place among the makers of the republic the memory of the man whom he defamed." "all this vilification is really the tribute that mediocrity pays to genius."--_elbert hubbard_. walt whitman: "paine was double damnably lied about." "anything lower, meaner, more contemptible, i cannot imagine, to take an aged man--a man tired to death after a complicated life of toil, struggle, anxiety--weak, dragged down, at death's door;... then to pull him into the mud, distort everything he does and says; oh, it's infamous." "thomas paine had a noble personality, as exhibited in presence, face, voice, dress, manner, and what may be called his atmosphere and magnetism, especially the later years of his life. i am sure of it. of the foul and foolish fictions yet told about the circumstances of his decease, the absolute fact is that he lived a good life, after its kind; he died calmly and philosophically, as became him." dr. morrison davidson: "he died as he lived, one of the grandest examples of intellectual piety, fidelity and rectitude that ever lived." new york advertiser (june , ): "with heartfelt sorrow and poignant regret, we are compelled to announce to the world that thomas paine is no more. this distinguished philanthropist, whose life was devoted to the cause of humanity, departed this life yesterday morning; and, if any man's memory deserves a place in the breast of a freeman, it is that of the deceased, for, "'take him for all in all, we ne'er shall look upon his like again.'" (paine's remains were buried on his farm at new rochelle. ten years later, because of america's ingratitude and neglect, william cobbett had his bones disinterred and sent to england. in connection with their reinterment he had planned a great popular demonstration. "when i return," he said, "i shall cause them to speak the common sense of the great man; i shall gather together the people of liverpool and manchester in one assembly with those of london, and those bones will effect the reformation of england in church and state." cobbett, probably waiting for a more opportune time, failed to carry out his cherished scheme. the bones of paine reposed for nearly thirty years in their coffin and then disappeared. as late as a unitarian clergyman claimed to have in his possession "the skull and the right hand of thomas paine.") "the skull and the right hand of thomas paine!" what priceless relics! could they be found america should repossess them, place them in a casket of gold and preserve them in a shrine at her national capitol. within that skull was conceived this great republic. that hand wrote the inspired volume which transformed a vague dream into a glorious reality. that hand, too, wrote two other immortal works which, slowly but surely, are effecting what cobbett contemplated, "the reformation of england in church and state." "his 'rights of man' is now the political constitution of england, his 'age of reason' is the growing constitution of its church."--_dr. conway._ "as to his bones, no man knows the place of their rest to this day. his principles rest not. his thoughts, untraceable like his dust, are blown about the world which he held in his heart. for a hundred years no human being has been born in the civilized world without some spiritual tincture from that heart whose every pulse was for humanity, whose last beat broke a fetter of fear, and fell on the throne of thrones."--_ibid._ rev. charles wendt, dd.: "a much abused name." rev. o. b. frothingham: "no private character has been more foully calumniated in the name of god than that of thomas paine." "no page in history, stained as it is with treachery and falsehood, or cold-blooded indifference to right or wrong, exhibits a more disgraceful instance of public ingratitude than that which thomas paine experienced from an age and country which he had so faithfully served."--_rev. solomon southwick_. referring to paine, the boston _herald_ says: "it has, perhaps, never fallen to the lot of any really great man to be so traduced in his lifetime, and, after the grave has closed over him, to have his memory so weighted down with obloquy of unsparing critics." mrs. bradlaugh-bonner of england, daughter of charles bradlaugh, one of england's noted orators and statesmen, says: "paine's politics were politics for the people, and the people were taught to deny him; his ideal religion was 'the religion of humanity,' and humanity would not even grant him a grave." col. ingersoll says: "i challenge the world to show that thomas paine ever wrote one line, one word in favor of tyranny--in favor of immorality; one line, one word against what he believed to be for the highest and best interests of mankind; one line, one word against justice, charity or liberty; and yet he has been pursued as though he had been a fiend from hell." harriet law: "there are few to whom the world owes more, and probably none to whose memory it has been more ungrateful." edward d. mead: "there is no other man in our religious or political history who has been the victim of such misrepresentation, of such persistent obloquy, as thomas paine." "as we go back into the dark ages we read of the horrible atrocities perpetrated in the name of religion, and this feeling had not yet passed away during the time that thomas paine lived."--_admiral george w. melville._ hon. andrew d. white, ll. d.: "great, and, indeed, cruel injustice was done him in his day, and has been continued in large measure ever since." eastern daily press (england): "the fires still burn, although a hundred years have passed." "for more than a century his name has been as a touchstone revealing the unappeasable malevolence of men's intolerance."--_mrs. bradlaugh-bonner._ kumar krishna de varma, l. t. o. (bombay, india): "the orthodox have always slandered the immortal author of the 'age of reason' and the 'rights of man.'" prof. ernst haeckel: "thomas paine, the immortal author of the celebrated books, 'age of reason,' 'common sense,' 'rights of man,' and 'crisis,' belongs to those meritorious truththinkers who during their lifetime were not accorded the honor and acknowledgment that they well merited. the traditional historians of schoolbooks not only neglected him for many years but deliberately maligned and slandered him." "religious bigots have done all in their power to defame his character and rob him of the laurels with which we crown him to-day."--_elizabeth cady stanton_. d. m. bennett: "does a man with such a brilliant career, one having made such a magnificent record, and one to whom the world owes far more than it can ever pay, deserve to have his name maligned, his memory blackened, and all his actions and motives belied and misrepresented? is it honorable? is it manly? is it just?" helen h. gardener: "so long as a man, whether he be layman, bishop, cardinal or pope, is willing to bear false witness against his neighbor, whether that neighbor be living or dead, just so long will all the blood of all the redeemers of all the nations of the earth be unable to wash his soul white enough to place it beside that of the patriot hero, thomas paine." william t. stead: "paine and ingersoll are assailed by the same weapons, subjected to the same aspersions, and misrepresented in the same merciless fashion as he [christ] was assailed and misrepresented by the orthodox of his time.... if it is right to treat paine and ingersoll in this harsh, carping, uncharitable, malevolent fashion, then it is equally right to apply it to the founder of the faith." elmina drake slenker: "and this mild work, the 'age of reason,' is the real cause of all the cruel calumnies that the world has circulated about the hero, the scholar, the philosopher, the scientist, the inventor, the humanitarian, thomas paine." lillian leland: "paine... had ideals of intellectual and religious freedom, and was flung down from the pedestal of honor, broken, cast off and ostracized for venturing to criticise the received forms of religion." "the replies to thomas paine," says george w. foote of london, "were the work of christian ruffians. bishop watson was the only one who attempted to answer paine's arguments. the others only called him names; apparently on the principle that to charge a freethinker with drunkenness and profligacy is the shortest and easiest way of proving that the bible is the word of god." george e. macdonald of new york, says: "the strongest defense of the bible against the 'age of reason' was the allegation that paine drank brandy, although the bible commends liquor drinking and the ministers of that period were unrestricted in their potations." "around new rochelle, where thomas paine lived, and where this myth about his drunkenness has its geography, there were deacons by the dozen who were drinking regularly more than thomas paine ever drank, without in the slightest degree affecting their religious reputation. i speak of these things, which i have investigated, because i feel so strongly the wrong which has been done to this man."--_edward d. mead._ gilbert vale: "could the 'age of reason' and 'rights of man' have been replied to as he replied to burke we should have never heard these slanders." william ware cotter: "let libelers' gall-envenomed tongues make bitter every word they speak; time will disclose the patriot's wrongs and blanch with shame the slanderer's cheek." testimonials and tributes. m. coupé: "faithful friend of liberty." m. courtois: "he has labored to found liberty in two worlds." hon. jonathan bourne, jr.: "thomas paine in england and america and thomas jefferson in america became the chanticleers of liberty." hon. john j. ingalls: "paine was one of the great apostles of human liberty, and did much to emancipate mankind from the shackles of ancient prejudice and error." "a warm friend to the liberty and lasting welfare of the human race."--_samuel adams._ prof. lester f. ward, ll.d.: "thanks to paine and other great reformers, we have emerged from the condition where the political struggle is the main issue. in other words political liberty has been attained." t. j. bowles, m. d.: "at the close of the eighteenth century it dawned upon the minds of the immortal paine, jefferson and franklin that all men are created equal, and this conception born in the minds of this trinity of saviors made the nineteenth century the most marvelous and the happiest period in the history of the world." earl john francis stanley russell: "a great reformer and an illustrious heretical pioneer." "his name stands for mental freedom and moral courage."--_george w. foote_. "thomas paine was a heroic innovator. he said what he thought and he meant what he said."--_rev. george burman foster_. john wesley jarvis: "he devoted his whole life to the attainment of two objects--rights of man and freedom of conscience." prof. h. m. kottinger, a. m.: "thomas paine fought as courageously for religious liberty as he did for civil liberty." "i dare not say how much of what our union is owing and enjoying to-day--its independence--its ardent belief in, and substantial practice of, radical human rights--and the severance of its government from all ecclesiastical and superstitious dominions--i dare not say how much of all this is owing to thomas paine, but i am inclined to think a good portion of it decidedly is."--_walt. whitman_. "it was his clear head and brave and righteous soul that inspired the men who declared our independence, and put into the constitution of the united states such a veto against ecclesiastical domination as has defied its proud and conceited usurpation to the present day."--_elizur wright_. h. lee-warner: "its [thetford's] great man who taught the world to respect the right of free-thought." (the one hundredth anniversary of the death of thomas paine was observed at his birthplace. the mayor of thetford presided, and four members of the british parliament delivered eulogistic addresses.) george anderson: "one of the noblest freethinkers in the world's history. "paine is the idol of freethinkers. he is enthroned in our hearts because he gave his life to freedom."--_l. k. washburn._ "in both worlds he offered his blood for the good of man. in the wilderness of america, in the french convention, in the sombre cell awaiting death, he was the same unflinching, unwavering friend of his race; the same undaunted champion of freedom."--_ingersoll._ martin l. bunge: "i owe much to thomas paine. his words have guided me in my struggle for liberty and truth. the more i study him the more i love the human race." isador ladoff: "freethought was to him not a mere attitude of mind, but a philosophy of life and action." prof. m. n. wright: "he will always stand as an illustrious example of that higher reverence, that diviner faith of the incoming religion--a religion based in the common wants of a common humanity." william marion reedy: "he glorified common sense.... he is one of the chief saints of the church of man." rev. paul jordan smith: "when thomas paine first saw the light of day it was the custom of certain disciples of peace and good will to beat and burn the man who wanted to think.... and down the days that since have passed it has been the fashion of the blatant orthodox to cry, 'infidel!' 'infidel!' at the man who said: 'any system of religion that shocks the mind of a child cannot be a true system.' 'the world is my country; to do good my religion.'" robert blatchford: "paine left moses and isaiah centuries behind when he wrote: 'the world is my country; to do good my religion.'" stoughton cooley: "one of the most devoted spirits in the cause of liberty." east anglian daily times: "the rights of man' and the 'age of reason' may have scandalized orthodox opinion, but their author was never engaged in any but a generous and noble cause, that had complete personal liberty for its sole object and aim." "they [lord bolingbroke and thomas paine] were alike in making bitter enemies of the priests and pharisees of their day. both were honest men; both advocates of human liberty."--_thomas jefferson._ j. c. hannon: "liberty, hunted around the globe, has ever found its highest hope, its safest refuge, in the affections of those upon whose grand and noble foreheads the tyrants of the world have ever branded the indelible stigma of infidelity. thomas paine, who has done more for human liberty than any other man who ever lived, has borne it with a grace amounting to sublimity." dr. j. b. wilson: "towering spires, blazing altars, jeweled palaces, and golden thrones had awed and subdued the eastern nations for all time. it remained for thomas paine, standing upon the shores of this western world, to tear away the blinds of superstition, hypocrisy, selfishness, and imperial pretense, and awaken mankind to a consciousness of its own power and capacity for self-government." walter holloway: "age after age men have struggled toward the ideal, with toil and tears, praying in their pain, sobbing out their sorrows in the half-light of hope, forever beaten back from the coveted goal. wise men long ago saw that the gods must be dethroned and the government of earth given into the hands of men. that was the passionate dream of thomas paine." m. felix rabbe: "thomas paine has suffered the fate of all those who, listening only to their conscience of honest manhood, solely attentive to the voices of nature and reason, raised principles above all considerations of frontiers, parties, sects, and sacrificed without hesitation the mean calculations of a temporizing policy to the higher interests of eternal justice." "the world has had few such men, those who divest themselves of selfish motives of gain or pride and are willing to suffer obloquy and poverty for a conviction."--_edward c. wentworth_. elizabeth cady stanton.: "we cannot be too grateful to those who through poverty, persecution, imprisonment, and death have given us the light of science in the place of blind faith on questions of government, religion, and social life. thomas paine is a worthy name in the long line of martyrs to liberal political and religious principles." "poor, abused, maligned, hated and persecuted, paine stood alone in the ocean of superstition, ignorance and prejudice as the liberty statue of religious thought while the waves of malice, ostracism and anathema lashed against his kind and manly brow."--_rev. david w. bash._ rev. dr. thomas slicer: "the progress of the world in political and religious liberty will be written in the estimates that the world has learned to take of thomas paine during the hundred years since he fell into an unnoticed grave." "thomas paine made it impossible to write the history of human liberty with his name left out. he was one of the creators of light. he was one of the heralds of the dawn."--_col. r. g. ingersoll._ "i enjoy myself when i think how free i am, and i thank this man for it. when i think of that the whole horizon is full of glory, and joy comes to me in every ray of sunshine and every rustle of the winds."--_ibid._ james f. morton, jr.: "since time began, no greater prophet faced the savage ban of priest and king." rev. david w. bush: "how unwise to deny myself the companionship of one of the greatest, bravest, most self-sacrificing men of all time because he has written things i cannot accept." pearl w. geer: "this is the beauty of free-thought--the glory of infidelity. we recognize good in everything where good is to be found. while we do not accept all of thomas paine's ideas we recognize in him the greatest man the world has ever known." "there is not in illinois a monument that stands as high as abraham lincoln; nor in massachusetts as high as ralph waldo emerson; nor in the world as high as thomas paine."--_l. k. washburn_. "the wisest, brightest, humblest son of earth." --clio rickman. rev. george croly: "an impartial estimate of this remarkable man has been rarely formed and still more rarely expressed. he was assuredly one of the original men of the age in which he lived." col. charles stedman (a tory officer in the revolution): "thomas paine has rendered his name famous on the theatre of europe and of the world." robert shelton mackenzie: "we cannot ignore the fact that he was one of the ablest politicians of his time and that liberal minds all over the world recognize him as such." "washington recognized his practical insight, napoleon picked him out from the crowd of 'ideaologues' and consulted him."--_london times_. william cobbett, one of the most notable figures in english politics, who, misled by paine's enemies, had been one of his most violent assailants, thus frankly acknowledges his indebtedness to him: "old age having laid his hand upon this truly great man, this truly philosophical politician, at his expiring flambeau i lighted my taper." charles bradlaugh: "he was a sturdy, true man. though norfolk born, not english, but human, and with nothing of geographical limit to that humanity. as a politician, or rather as a thinker on politics he stands for england as jean jacques rousseau has stood for france. you on your side ought to reverence him for the timely words which gave form and reality to vague, unspoken thought. we, on our side, too, ought to honor him for the 'rights of man' yet to be wearisomely achieved." atlantic monthly: (july, ): "his career was wonderful, even for the age of miraculous events he lived in. in america he was a revolutionary hero of the first rank, who carried letters in his pocket from george washington, thanking him for his services. and he managed besides to write his radical name in large letters in the history of england and france." w. w. bartlett: "he was undeniably preeminent among statesmen, and by his many-sidedness he succeeded in rousing the whole civilized world." marshall j. gauvin: "in honoring the memory of thomas paine we recognize and salute one of the greatest forces in history." "other men have followed events; paine actually created them.... he wanted a declaration of independence, and he produced the wish for it."--_gilbert vale._ hugh byron brown: "there are a few great men who, like milestones along the road of progress, are so distinguished and prominent, and who have so influenced the destinies of nations, as to mark an epoch in the world's history. such a man was thomas paine." michael monahan: "one of the notables of history." rev. e. m. frank: "thomas paine was, in his time, one who stood in the forefront of human progress." dr. edward bond foote: "as lincoln was the man for his time and place, so paine fitted perfectly and filled remarkably the niche which history allotted to him." horace l. green: "thomas paine, george washington and abraham lincoln, the glorious trinity of independence." eugene v. debs: "the revolutionary history of the united. states and france stirred me deeply and its heroes and martyrs became my idols. thomas paine towered above them all." knut martin teigen, m.d., ph.d.: "thomas paine was, beyond all doubt, a true genius." dr. john walker (with paine in france): "there can be no question that paine was a man of the most gigantic genius and of the soundest practical knowledge." joel barlow, ambassador to france during napoleon's reign, paine's companion in london and paris, and to whom he entrusted the manuscript of his "age of reason" when he was taken to prison, says: "paine was endowed with the clearest perception, an uncommon share of original genius, and the greatest depth of thought.... as a visiting acquaintance and literary friend, he was one of the most instructive men i have ever known." "he ought to be ranked among the brightest and most undeviating luminaries of the age in which he lived."--_ibid._ "to me thomas paine appears as one of the master spirits of the earth."--_horace seaver._ "one who deserves from his still ungrateful country an honored place in her hall of fame."--_rev. eugene rodman shippen._ rev. dr. l. m. birkhead: "paine in days to come will be considered one of the greatest men and statesmen the world has ever known." "i regard thomas paine as one of the greatest men the world has ever produced, and all ought to be proud that he belonged to our race."--_sir hiram maxim._ glasgow herald: "paine was greater than he knew." "the two men who have left the richest heritage of thought and made the deepest imprint upon the minds of mankind for future ages,... thomas paine and charles darwin [darwin was born in the year that paine died], were in turn the elijah and the elisha of the eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries of the christian era. one hundred years ago today thomas paine let fall his mantle of light upon the infant shoulders of charles darwin and vanished in a chariot of fire that shall blaze the trail of the seeker after truth from generation unto generation."--_alden freeman_. edward g wentworth: "giordano bruno was one of the world's martyrs who died for a cause. thomas paine was one of the world's martyrs who lived for a cause. each has created an imperishable name." george jacob holyoake: "paine was the most intrepid and influential englishman that ever sprang from the ranks of the people." "the man who was the confidant of burke, the counsellor of franklin, and the friend and colleague of washington, must have had great qualities." "he belongs to england. his fame is the property of england; and if no other people will show that they value that fame, the people of england will:"--_william cobbett_. rev. j. lloyd jones, ll. d.: "great souls are the key-stones in the arches that unite the races.... german provincialism died when lessing, schiller, and goethe were born. the insignificant island lost its insular character when shakespeare wrote. the emaciated thirteen colonies became great when washington, franklin, paine, and jefferson spoke for them." mohammed ali webb: "all educated mohammedans know him. the intelligent moslem places thomas paine among the world's admirable men and holds his memory in great reverence." u. dhammaloka: "the buddhist tract society of burmah observed the one hundreth anniversary of the death of thomas paine. we had large audiences. i myself [president of this society] spoke to an audience of about five thousand at a town in upper burmah." kedàrnath basu (of india): "my countrymen are beginning to admire and revere the noble character of thomas paine." yoshiro oyama (japan): "thomas paine was one of the greatest of the great men of the world." francois thane: "the french people would be proud to have his ashes rest in the pantheon beside the grave of voltaire." george legg henderson: "the time is not far distant when all the world will recognize in thomas paine the martyr, the hero, the man." prof. a. l. rawson, ll. d.: "more men like paine are wanted, and will appear from time to time, until the whole human race has grown in intelligence, reason and taste." judge arnold krekel, ll. d.: "let us carry forward, then, the work in which the man we honor was so largely and so successfully engaged." libby c. macdonald: "the lips of thomas paine are still in death, but we can voice his principles through ours." "i commend the study of the life of paine to the young men of today."--_hon. william j. gaynor._ "time will come when the problem of school education will be how to make good citizens of our boys and girls, and there are no better books for this purpose than those of thomas paine."--_john s. crosby._ "with the spirit of thomas paine in our hearts no despot, foreign or domestic, will ever be able to build his throne beside the grave of our liberty."--_rev. thomas b. gregory._ "had the world but heeded the wise counsels of thomas paine, europe would not now be drenched in blood."--_w. m. van der weyde._ rev. j. page hopps: "paine was a splendid radical prophet, and therefore, though a thoroughly practical man, was only a teacher and leader born too soon." rev. marie j. howe: "paine did not belong to the eighteenth century, but was only born in it. he belongs to this." clarence darrow: "thomas paine was so far beyond his age that a hundred years has not been long enough for the world to catch up. sometime he will stand out as the wisest, truest, bravest friend of liberty that america can boast." henry gaylord wilshire: "paine was the greatest man this country has produced, and it is only a question of time when we will come to realize it." "paine, being a genius, saw a vision of the future and the glories that should be. the herd did not, and we do not, but we shall some day." rev. robert j. lockhart: "he was a light that shed a splendor whose origin no man could declare. he was greater than the times he lived in." horace j. bridges: "some men are too great and too far ahead of their times to get justice at contemporary hands. being too broad and impartial for any single party, they offend all parties, and are rejected and reviled by all. such in england was the fate of cromwell and milton; and such in america has been the fate of paine." herbert n. casson: "paine was a man who did not belong to his time, a man who was far larger than the men among whom he lived. he was loaned, as it were, from a larger planet to this small one. and he was given to this country at a time when the country most needed a guide and a wise teacher in the cause of independence and truth." rev. dwight galloupe, u. s. a.: "i am proud to speak the name of one who, in too many memories, lives only as an outcast and ishmael among men--thomas paine. i cannot forget that when all was dark his eye saw a star of hope, his faith heard the tramping of millions of free people yet unborn. his devotion kept him steadfast until the stars and stripes compelled the recognition of the world." "the man whose eloquent and reasoned appeal, 'common sense,' first formulated the demand for independence, the first coiner of the great thought and expression, 'the united states of america,' the man whom washington and jefferson were proud to call their friend, and whose magnificent work for the liberty of their country they acknowledged with unstinted praise."--_the nation_. george washington: "that his 'common sense' and many of his 'crisis' were well timed and had a happy effect on the public mind, none, i believe, who will turn to the epochs at which they were published will deny." "must the merits of common sense continue to glide down the stream of time unrewarded by his country? his writings certainly have had a powerful effect on the public mind,--ought they not then to meet an adequate return?" "if you will come to this place and partake with me i shall be exceedingly glad to see you at it. your presence may remind congress of your past services to this country; and if it is in my power to impress them, command my best exertions with freedom, as they will be rendered cheerfully by one who entertains a lively sense of the importance of your works." "i am in hopes you will find us returned generally to sentiments worthy of former [revolutionary] times. in these it will be your glory to have steadily labored, and with as much effect as any man living."--_thomas jefferson_. colonel john laurens: "you will be received with open arms, and all that affection and respect which our citizens are anxious to testify to the author of 'common sense' and the 'crisis.'" "i wish you to regard this part of america [the carolinas] as your particular home--and every thing that i can command in it to be in common between us." robert emmett: "to be associated with mr. paine, whose services to america are reflected in the glory of her republic and the happiness of her people, must be to any one who loves liberty, or regards private virtues and public accomplishments, a source of peculiar pride." james monroe: "the citizens of the united states cannot look back upon the times of their own revolution without recollecting among the names of their most distinguished patriots that of thomas paine. the services he rendered to his country in its struggle for freedom have implanted in the hearts of his countrymen a sense of gratitude never to be effaced as long as they deserve the title of a just and generous people." "the crime of ingratitude has not yet stained, and i trust never will stain our national character. you are considered by them as not only having rendered an important service in our revolution, but as being on a more extensive scale, the friend of human rights, and a distinguished and able advocate in favor of public liberty." james madison (to washington): "whether a greater disposition to reward patriotic and distinguished efforts of genius will be found on any succeeding occasion, is not for me to predetermine. should it finally appear that the merits of the man whose writings have so much contributed to infuse and foster the spirit of independence in the people of america, are unable to inspire them with a just beneficence, the world, it is to be feared, will give us as little credit for our policy as for our gratitude in this particular." madison, jefferson, edmund randolph, and others urged the appointment of paine to a place in washington's cabinet. "a little less modesty, a little more preference of himself to humanity, and a good deal more of what ought to be common sense on the part of the people he sought to free, and he would have been president of the united states."--_calvin blanchard_. marquis de lafayette: "to me america without her thomas paine is unthinkable." should you ever visit mount vernon you will see among the many interesting relics preserved there a key. it is the key of the bastille, the demolition of which, on the th of july, , was france's declaration of independence. this key passed through the hands of three celebrated men and associates in the mind the world's two greatest revolutions. its history, briefly stated, is as follows: "jefferson [then minister to france] had sailed [for america] in september, and paine was recognized by lafayette and other leaders as the representative of the united states. to paine lafayette gave for presentation to washington the key of the destroyed bastille, ever since visible at mount vernon--symbol of the fact that, in paine's words, 'the principles of america opened the bastille.'"--_conway_. dr. j. rudis-jicinsky: "when, in germany, i read for the first time paine's 'common sense' i thought that in the land of liberty, the united states, this hero who upheld the cause of the colonies must be glorified and his works known to every patriotic citizen... to my astonishment i found that in this country the name of this great writer was not even known to all its citizens. then a flood of light flashed through my brain and by its rays i spelled the word 'ingratitude.'" unknown writer (written in an old volume of paine's works in a philadelphia library): "he has no name. the country for which he labored and suffered knows him not. his ashes rest in a foreign land. a rough grass-grown mound, from which the bones have been purloined [now surmounted by a handsome monument] is all that remains on the continent of america to tell of the hero, the statesman, and the friend of man." rev. john snyder of st. louis says: "paine is one of his country's half-forgotten saviors. in the mind of that country his heresy has canceled the years of loving and priceless service he rendered to a new-born nation. the clamor of bigotry has drowned the voice of gratitude." "his patriotism shows not the slightest stain, and yet children have been taught to abhor his name."--_ibid._ "the highest monument of injustice on this earth is america's ingratitude to thomas paine."--_james p. bland, b.d._ "it is time the world awakened to his merits."--_ella wheeler wilcox._ "it is time that justice should be done the memory of the man who strove and suffered for his fellowmen."--_william marion reedy_. "the republic owes so much to him that it is hardly seemly that it should continue doing less than justice to his memory."--_new york world._ hon. henry s. randall: "concede all the allegations against him and it still leaves him the author of 'common sense' and certain other papers, which rung like clarions in the darkest hour of the revolutionary struggle, inspiring the bleeding and starving and pestilence-stricken as the pen of no other man ever inspired them." "_shame rest on the pen which dares not to do him justice._" "a religion which will incite its followers, with virtual unanimity, to pursue with malignant hatred and to blacken with all the refinements of insatiable malice the memory of a distinguished benefactor of the human race, on the sole ground of his renunciation of certain theological dogmas, is undeniably the embodiment of a spirit hostile to intellectual liberty and human progress."--_james f. morton, jr._ "the national ingratitude displayed toward him on account of the fact of his theological heresies has hardly a parallel in history. in vindicating his memory, and calling attention, afresh to his invaluable services, we are not indulging in a blind hero worship, but are establishing a principle. the securing of justice to paine, against the venomous hatred invoked by his priestly enemies, involves a crushing blow to clerical malice, and the winning of a victory which will have large consequences. in the person of paine, we are vindicating the principles of religious liberty and confounding its antagonists."--_ibid._ "the atheists and secularists of our time are printing, reading, revering a work ['age of reason'] that opposes their opinions. for above its arguments and criticisms they see the faithful heart contending with a mighty apollyon, girt with all the forces of revolutionary and royal terrorism. just this one englishman, born again in america, confronting george iii. and robespierre on earth and tearing the like of them from the throne of the universe! were it only for the grandeur of this spectacle in the past paine would maintain his hold on thoughtful minds. but in america the hold is deeper than that. in this self-forgetting insurrection of the human heart against deified inhumanity there is an expression of the inarticulate wrath of humanity against continuance of the same wrong... there is still visible, however refined, the sting and claw of the apollyon against whom paine hurled his far-reaching dart."--_dr. conway._ judge thomas herttell: "no man in modern ages has done more to benefit mankind, or distinguished himself more for the immense moral good he has effected for his species, than thomas paine." ernestine l. rose: "he was one of the greatest benefactors of mankind." theodore parker: "his instincts were humane and elevated,' and his life was devoted mainly to the great purposes of humanity." "we find in paine united two qualities which were rare in the eighteenth century--political sagacity and humanity."--_hector macpherson._ "his career is only reduced to intelligible consistency when we recognize that the impelling force behind his social, political and religious activities was an overmastering passion for humanity."--_ibid._ edwin c. walker:. "paine was the least insular, the least provincial--the most cosmopolitan--of all whose names have come down to us from the ages gone... his sympathies were broader even than all humanity, for they enclosed other forms of life as well, and were as varied as the needs of all who suffered and aspired." ellery sedgwick: "he hated cruelty in every form. he hated war, he hated slavery, he hated injustice; and his public life was one long battle against every form of oppression." "his free lance was ever at the service of the poor and oppressed, but never to be bought by favors of the court, or awed by the menaces of kings or the anathemas of priests."--_hugh byron brown._ j. w. whicker: "the growth of knowledge in the passing years will hallow the name of this author, this patriot, this hero of two continents. his life and his deeds are one sweet story of service for his kind." john r. charlesworth: "his weapon was a pen. his mind jeweled with gems of thought, richer by far than silver or gold, he gave of his intellectual treasures without price." "long live the man, in early contest found, who spoke-his heart when dastards trembled round; who, fired with more than greek or roman rage, flashed truth on tyrants from his manly page." --dr. joseph b. ladd. rev. brooke hereford: "thomas paine was the great defender of human rights and merits the everlasting gratitude of man." rev. dr. david swing: "he was one of the best and grandest men that ever trod the planet." charles phillips: "thomas paine, no matter what may be the difference of opinion as to his principles, must ever remain a proud example of mind, unpatronized and unsupported, eclipsing the factitious beams of rank, and wealth, and pedigree. i never saw him in his captivity, or heard the revilings by which he has since been assailed, without cursing in my heart that ungenerous feeling which, cold to the necessities of genius, is clamorous in the publication of its defects. "ye great ones of his nation [england]! ye pretended moralists, so forward now to cast your interested indignation upon the memory of paine!--where were you in the day of his adversity? which of you, to assist his infant merit, would diminish even the surplus of your debaucheries? where the mitred charity, the practical religion? consistent declaimers, rail on! what though his genius was the gift of heaven, his heart the altar of friendship! what though wit and eloquence and anecdote flowed freely from his tongue, while conviction made his voice her messenger! what though thrones trembled, and prejudice fled, and freedom came, at his command! he dared to question the creed which you, believing, contradicted, and to despise the rank which you, boasting of, debased." william lee: "immortal paine, thy fame can never die!" c. fannie allyn: "because you left a record that has floated down the years, because your words undying have conquered low-born jeers, because the ones who listened are victors over fears, as thomas paine the hero we salute you! "philanthropist and patriot, a-down the yet-to-be! your thoughts are sweeping deathless as breezes o'er the sea, and hearts of men and women by you are made more free, as thomas paine the future will salute you!" alden freeman: "one hundred years ago today there passed from life into the undying fame of assured immortality a chieftain among the fathers of our country, the foremost agitator of the american revolution--thomas paine." samuel h. preston: "he who will live forever in the history of this republic as the author-hero of the revolution; he who consecrated a long, laborious life in both hemispheres to the sacred cause of humanity; he who, in his sublime patriotism, adopted the world for his country, and who, in his boundless philanthropy, embraced all mankind for his brethren; this man--this great, and grand, and good, and heroic man--has been robbed of honor and reputation, and blackened and hunted by the sleuth-hounds of superstition, as though he had been the embodied curse of earth. "but, so sure as the affairs of men have an eternal destiny, shall justice be awarded thomas paine. the flowers of poesy will be woven in amaranthine wreaths above his last resting-place, and his once-blackened name will whiten with purity through all the wasteless years." rev. frank s. c. wicks: "why this ingratitude? in one word, bigotry! religious bigotry, that serpent that has left its trail of slime all over the pages of human history. "he was pursued by religious bigotry, and but for religious bigotry the name of thomas paine would share with washington the love and honor of his countrymen." rev. thomas b. gregory: "our gratitude has been abundantly shown to washington, franklin, jefferson and others who figured in the great drama, but to our shame it must be said we have been slow in acknowledging our debt to the man who did more than any other to bring about this country's freedom. "but superstition is slowly dying, ignorance is gradually disappearing, and by and by thomas paine will come into his own and take his place along with the greatest in our national pantheon." rev. solomon southwick, d.d.: "had thomas paine been a grecian or roman patriot in olden times, and performed the same services as he did for this country, he would have had the honor of an apotheosis. the pantheon would have been opened to him, and we should at this day regard his memory with the same veneration that we do that of socrates and cicero. but posterity will do him justice. time, that destroys envy and establishes truth, will clothe his character in the habiliments that justly belong to it." "paine was one of the glories of his age.... he has a powerful vindicator--posterity."--_m. m. mangasarian_. frances wright d'arusmont: "rest in peace, noble patriot; a glorious resurrection awaits thee." "for nearly a century this noble man--the real founder of our republic--has been buried beneath the cruel stones of obloquy. but slowly the angels of justice are rolling back these stones from his sepulchre, and the resurrection of thomas paine is at hand."--_six historic americans_. current literature: "the present indications are that posterity will preserve the favorable, rather than the unfavorable, picture of thomas paine. his influence is steadily growing." col. john c. bundy: "paine's influence is waxing broader, deeper and more aggressive with each succeeding generation. at the end of a century, more of his theological and political works are sold each year than those of any other theologian or politician america has ever known. all the progress of the century has been in the direction in which he steered." the nation (london): "the magnitude, variety, and immediate efficacy of paine's writings constitute him one of the chief personal forces of the revolutionary age.... he carried into the new england across the water a consuming passion for human justice and liberty, not as platform phrases, but as hard, concrete goods worth fighting and dying for, which set america afire, when she was confusedly pondering an impossible and unnatural reconciliation. from america to france, fresh in the throes of her great upheaval, he passed, not as an incendiary, but as a moderating and constructive influence in her national convention, risking his very life for the cause of clemency in dealing with a traitorous king. from france to england, carrying the same doctrines of liberty in politics and religion, not a cold utilitarian conception of individual rights, but a rich human gospel of a commonwealth sustained by a passion of humanity as deep and real as ever influenced the soul of man. "he will recover a glorious though tardy fame among those who take the necessary trouble to rectify false estimates and to do honor to one of the most truly honorable men who have striven to serve mankind." "he died broken with many griefs, to be remembered by a later age as the great commoner of mankind."--_library of the world's best literature._ charles edward russell: "the soul of thomas paine was 'like a star and dwelt apart.' he kept his own self-respect and the integrity of his mind." "he lived a long, laborious, and useful life. the world is better for his having lived. for the sake of truth he accepted hatred and reproach. he ate the bitter bread of sorrow. his friends were untrue to him because he was true to himself, and true to them. he lost the respect of what is called society, but kept his own. his life is what the world calls a failure, and what history calls success."--_ingersoll._ daniel edwin wheeler: "history continually reverses her statements at the command of truth, and the latter is slowly but certainly rehabilitating the name and fame of paine. the slime of a mythology which has for over a century stained his reputation is disappearing and the prophet pamphleteer is coming into his own." dr. muzzey, of new york, honored by harvard, the sorbonne of paris, and the university of berlin, at the tomb of thomas paine, in , gave utterance to this tribute: "the democracy for which robert burns sang and for which thomas paine labored is still a bright ideal in the distant future, the star of brotherhood over a humanity still in the cradle. today, and only today, thomas paine is beginning to be appreciated as the prophet of that democracy which means full human brotherhood. his fame will grow with the years. the marvelous services of his brain, of his pen, which was never dipped in the ink of malice or slander, of his wonderful devotion as a soldier, as a prophet of freedom,... is coming to be understood. as the realization of that service of paine grows, it will loom larger and larger. and when the day of democracy shall have come, when the principles for which paine stood shall have fully replaced the awful dogmas of the past, as they are slowly and surely replacing those dogmas, then he will come to his own." rev. james kay applebee: "i see thomas paine as he looms up in history--a great, grand figure. the reputation bigots have created for him fades away, even as the creeds for which they raved and lied fade away; but distinct and luminous, there remains the noble character of thomas paine created by himself." "the stigma is on his detractors, not on him."--_rev. eugene rodman shippen._ r. b. marsh: "no feeling of shame has been so poignant as that which overwhelmed me when i saw that ignorantly and blindly following my instructors i had added my voice to the all but universal outcry against this man. "his fame and memory have been obscured for a hundred years, only to shine with greater luster when the truth is known. the day-dawn of his fame even now is brightening the sky. "he has been the victim of almost infinite injustice; but i rejoice in the confident belief that time will fully vindicate his memory, and restore him to his just rank among the heroes of humanity."--_hon. george w. julian._ that there is a rapidly growing disposition to do justice to the memory of thomas paine is attested by a recent occurrence. on the th of october, , at new rochelle, where, less than one hundred years before, paine, because of his religious belief, was denied burial in a christian cemetery, the beautiful monument erected at his grave by admiring friends was rededicated and assigned to the custody of that city, where, held as a sacred treasure, it is now guarded with watchful and loving care. the nation, the state, and the city united to make the event a memorable one. major general frederick d. grant sent two companies of united states troops and a regimental band; the state of new york sent a battery which fired a salute of thirteen guns; the mayor delivered a eulogy on paine, and the city council participated in the exercises. the school children of new rochelle sang the "star spangled banner" and one of paine's own songs. various civic and military societies also took part in the celebration--the grand army of the republic, woman's auxiliary of the grand army of the republic, spanish war veterans, minutemen, washington continental guards, and sons of the american revolution. dr. conway, paine's faithful biographer, sent a letter of greeting from paris, and a daughter of france a handsome wreath to lay upon the patriot's tomb. henry s. clark (mayor of new rochelle): "this memorial should serve and will remain an object lesson, inculcating not only patriotism, but the fundamental idea which appeared only in paine's writings--political equality for all men." "we accept this splendid memorial and pledge ourselves to ever protect and preserve it." "the two chief centers by which the lovers of liberty, humanity and progress will love to linger and gather inspiration in america will henceforth be the mausoleum of washington by the potomac, and this monument of paine by his old home in your lovely city of new rochelle."--_t. b. wakeman_. "ah! well may we cherish this spot sacred to paine the patriot. perhaps his dream will come true, and when there is a republic of the world, here will be the shrine of all nations."--_a. outrant sherman._ john burroughs: "i honor the memory of thomas paine and am glad to know that it shines brighter and brighter as time goes on." rear admiral george w. melville: "greater honor is coming to the name of thomas paine as the years roll on.... in america he will always be known as one of the greatest and brightest minds that stood for the liberties of men." hon. d. w. wilder: "after a century of abuse it is pleasing to know that a pure patriot and a very great man is at last being appreciated." theodore schroeder: "paine's sympathy for mankind had made kings his foes, his mercy cost him his liberty, his generosity kept him in poverty, his charity made him enemies, and by intellectual honesty he lost his friends. federalist judges of election, for whose liberty he had fought, denied him the right to vote, because he was a citizen of france; imprisoned in france because he was not a citizen of france; maligned because he was brave; shunned because he was honest; hated by those to whom he had devoted his whole existence; denied a burial place in the soil he helped make free by the church which first taught him the lesson of humanity; thus ended the life of thomas paine. "the world is growing better, more just and more hospitable. the narrow intolerance which once threatened to erase paine's hame from the pages of history is passing away. gradually we are coming to know that a kingly crown or priestly robe never rested upon a nobler man." "his unselfish devotion to the rights of man is now being recognized, and the brutal intolerance which tried to obliterate his name from history is rapidly disappearing."--_yoshiro oyama_. "the verdict of a century is being reversed today. in a little while the voice of detraction will be hushed forever."--_marshall j. gauvin_. hector macpherson: "the wheel of time has come round full circle. men of all sorts and conditions are willing to do justice to the man who, in the midst of great obstacles and with unflinching and self-sacrificing purpose held aloft the lighted torch of humanitarianism, and passed it on to succeeding generations." george allen white: "what turbulent curses and ravenous conspiracies fell for decades afoul thy noble head! how did the welkin ring with the uttermost invectives of hell-brewed hate! but a hundred years later and thomas paine--thomas paine the unspeakable--has been rehabilitated. his fame is secure and untarnished now. rising the monuments. splendid the horoscope of his future. smoking the calumets. like an impossible, unbelievable dream vanishes the memory of those tempestuous days of shameless bigotry." judge charles b. waite: "king and priest stood side by side, the one enslaving the body, the other the mind. men and women were subjected to the most atrocious cruelties. now and then, while mankind were struggling with their destiny, voices were heard--voices in the night--penetrating the surrounding gloom and reaching every ear. such a voice was that of shelley; such a voice was that of voltaire; such a voice was that of goethe; such was that of thomas paine. "thomas paine has been pursued with falsehood and calumny for more than a hundred years, but his name and fame grow brighter and brighter as the years roll by. already he is enrolled among the immortals as one of the real saviors of the world." mrs. josephine k. henry: "thomas paine--'one of the few, the immortal names that were not born to die." "as an american woman i enshrine with gratitude the memory of the philosopher, poet, counselor, historian, moralist, statesman and liberator--the immortal thomas paine." j. atwood culbertson: "whether his remains now lie wrapped in the immaculate shroud of winter snow, or, hid beneath earth's coverlet of green, feed to fragrance the springtime flowers, kissed to life by april sun; or whether his dust imparts the gold to the summer's grain, or lends the tint to the autumn leaf, we do not know, we cannot say; but immortal is the name of thomas paine." charles watts: "not of one age, but for all time." william thurston brown: "thomas paine belongs to the ages--not because he was thomas paine, but because the light which illumined his mind and the principles which motived his life are the noblest and richest blossoms the tree of human life can bear. toward the heights he climbed leads every upward road that the fearless feet of seekers after truth in this or any age have trod." "the purpose of his life, unequaled in purity, beneficence and grandeur of hope, 'lives and ever will live in the republics he invented, inspired and organized, and in the religion of humanity upon which they rest."--_t. b. wakeman_. "these words [religion of humanity] have blessed every religion. these three magic words, first uttered by paine, will work on and on forever."--ibid. harry weir boland: "his heart the world embracing he served our sorest need, his mind his church displacing, humanity his creed. humanity his creed, truth follows in his train, and of all those names the fairest is that of thomas paine." mrs. mattie parry krekel: "let us all, then, lay the trifle of a word, a thought, a tear on the altar of the memory of him who will be one of the pillars of that coming church where all men's hands shall be clasped in the beautiful light of the sun of truth; the church which shall give us one father--nature, and one brotherhood--the whole wide world." "i for one here cheerfully, reverently, throw my pebble on the cairn of his memory."--_walt whitman._ napoleon bonaparte: "a statue of gold ought to be erected to you in every city in the universe." andrew jackson: "thomas paine needs no monument made by hands; he has erected himself a monument in the hearts of all lovers of liberty." j. p. bland, b.d.: "thomas paine needs no marble to perpetuate his name, needs no granite to preserve his fame; for scattered through the whole wide world he has to-day a million living monuments, the harbingers of millions yet to come, and who, till time shall be no more, will bow the head in reverence and lift the heart in praise of him who so gloriously stood for reason and for right." dr. john e. roberts: "so long as human rights are sacred and their defenders held in grateful remembrance; so long as liberty has a flag flung to the skies, a sanctuary in the hearts of men; so long, upon the eternal granite of history, luminous as light and imperishable as the stars, will be engraven the name of thomas paine." colonel robert g. ingersoll: "if to love your fellow-men more than self is goodness, thomas paine was good. "if to be in advance of your time, to be a pioneer in the direction of right is greatness, thomas paine was great. "if to avow your principles and discharge your duty in the presence of death is heroic, thomas paine was a hero." "he died in the land his genius defended, under the flag he gave to the skies. slander cannot touch him now; hatred cannot reach him more." george e. macdonald: "o champion, bravest in all the past! o freedom, fairest of all the dames. long may the pledge of your fealty last, forever united be your names. and long as the flowers from the sod shall spring, touched by a may day's warmth and light, a blossom and tear shall the lady bring to drop on the grave of her faithful knight." paine was the prophet of his age. from the dim twilight of the eighteenth century his prophetic eye pierced through the intervening years to and beyond the gray dawn of the twentieth. and when he viewed man's progress and beheld his glorious destiny, this matchless seer "rang out the old, rang in the new," rang out the rule and tyranny of king, rang out the dogmas and the ghosts of priest; rang in the reign of liberty and justice, rang in the faith of reason and humanity. yes, in the cause of man the battle of his life was fought, a fierce and stormy conflict. and as the night of death closed over the eventful struggle, from her accursed abode the gaunt figure of bigotry stalked forth, and with demoniac peals of laughter danced around his prostrate form, rejoicing that her deadliest foe was gone. her imps still live. how often do we see one of them in the pulpit take up this good man's name, and after covering it with all the slime that the venomous spirit of calumny has distilled, hold it up before his congregation, and with a counterfeited look of holy horror, affecting all the meekness of an expiring calf, rolling up the whites of his snaky eyes to cover the blackness of his brutal soul, exclaim, "this is tom paine!" vile creatures! let them do their worst. let them summon to their aid all their hideous allies. let ignorance array her countless hosts; let the dark shades of prejudice becloud the sky; let hatred rave and curse; let the darts of calumny pierce the white breast of truth, and slander clothe the tongues of all their minions. they strive in vain. the crisis is past, the age of reason has dawned. common sense is fast supplanting superstition, the rights of man are bound to triumph, and the author-hero's name will gather lustre as the years roll by. "that man is thought a knave or fool, or bigot plotting crime, who for the advancement of his kind, is wiser than his time. for him the hemlock shall distil, for him the axe be bared; for him the gibbet shall be built, for him the stake prepared. him shall the scorn and wrath of men pursue with deadly aim; and malice, envy, spite, and lies shall desecrate his name. but never a truth has been destroyed, they may curse it, and call it crime; pervert and betray, and slander and slay its teachers for a time: but the sunshine, aye, shall light the sky, as round and round we run; and the truth shall ever come uppermost, and justice shall be done." ungrateful athens bade her savior drain the poisoned cup. it did its work, the spark of life was quenched; but the name of socrates shines on, undimmed by the flight of more than twenty centuries. columbus languished in chains, forged by the nation he had made renowned; but no chains can bind the towering fame his genius won. religious zealots sealed the lips of a philosopher; but could they stop the revolving earth? could they control the rising tide that rolled upon the boundless sea of thought? no! the earth went round, the wave rolled on. to-day, the very church that persecuted galileo reveres his name, accepts his teachings, and through his telescope, the instrument she once, condemned, her votaries, with eager eye and throbbing pulse, explore the starry fields of heaven. it is ever so: "truth crushed to earth shall rise again." each fierce thermopylae she meets inspires some crowning salamis. the wrongs of thomas paine shall be avenged. in vain his country passed to him the bitter cup; the fetters forged to chain his noble spirit to the dust were forged for naught; loving lips whisper, "it still moves!" i pity the man whose soul is so small that he cannot rise above the level of his creed to do justice to those whose religious opinions have not been gauged by his particular standard. i am no christian, but may i never become so ungrateful as to ignore my obligations to those who are. when war was desolating our fair land, and my young heart yearned to enlist in its defense, a christian mother printed a kiss upon the cheek of her only boy and bade him go; christian hands made the grand old flag we followed; christian women visited our hospitals, ministering to the sick and wiping the death-damp from the brows of the dying; christian generals led their troops on many a hard-fought field; and tonight the stately oak, the drooping willow, and the moaning pine stand sentinel by many a christian soldier's grave. but they are not alone. beside his christian comrade--beneath the shadows of the same trees--a martyr to the same cause--sleeps the unbeliever. and would you strew with flowers and moisten with tears the grave that enfolds the one, and trample with scorn the turf that grows upon the other? side by side they grandly marched to war; side by side they bravely fought; side by side heroically they fell; and in the murmuring stream that, wanders by their resting-place is heard the funeral chant of no religious creed, but nature's eternal sweet, sad requiem to all. go to the grave of thomas paine, my christian friend. stand beside the tomb where rest the ashes of this unappreciated genius. take up his little volume "common sense." open its pages and peruse its burning words. when done, unfold the map upon which are delineated "the free and independent states of america." contemplate the inspiring picture wrought thereon--wrought by the author-hero's magic pen--then refuse the simple tribute of a tear or flower! who is responsible for the obloquy that has been cast upon the memory of this noble man? the church, the orthodox church alone, is responsible for it. and let me say to the church, it ill becomes you to point to the alleged moral delinquencies of this man while your own garments are soiled and crimsoned with the vice and crime of centuries. you claim that amid the thunders of sinai god gave the decalogue as a moral guide to man. judged even by this standard the moral character of thomas paine will not suffer from a comparison with that of yours. "thou shalt have no other gods before me." "i believe in one god and no more," said thomas paine. "thou shalt worship no graven image." no worshiper of images was he. "thou shalt not take the name of the lord thy god in vain." he abstained from profanity himself and rebuked it in others. "remember the sabbath day to keep it holy." he observed this law as faithfully as did his christian neighbors. "honor thy father and thy mother." his parents were the objects of his reverence and love. "thou shalt not kill." he did not kill. he labored to abolish war and murder. "thout shalt not commit adultery." he was charged with adultery, and the foul beast who made the charge was forced to pay a heavy fine for his libelous assault. "thou shalt not steal." were all mankind as honest as he was the locksmith's avocation would be gone. "thou shalt not bear false witness." from his truthful lips no one ever heard a falsehood fall. "thou shalt not covet." a man who consecrates his life to the cause of humanity, and who steadily refuses to be recompensed for his services, cannot be accused of covetousness. now, let me ask the church, what is your record? how have you kept even the commandments of your own law? "thou shalt have no other gods before me." and yet, you have persecuted, imprisoned, tortured, butchered, and burned thousands for not believing in a trinity of gods. "before no idol shalt thou bow thy knee." your places of public worship are filled with idols--virgins, and saints, and crucifixes, and bibles--objects of as blind adoration as the idols of heathen lands. "thou shalt not take the name of god in vain." on every hand our ears are greeted by the oaths of those who, whether belonging to any particular sect or not, believe in the existence of the god and the divinity of the christ they curse. "remember the sabbath day to keep it holy." for eighteen hundred years you have not kept a sabbath of your god. you observe a day he never authorized you to observe. "honor thy father and thy mother." the christ you worship spurned the loving mother who bore him and declared that he who hated not father and mother could not be his disciple. "thou shalt not kill." you have made of earth a slaughter house. for centuries it resounded with the shrieks of murdered millions, victims of your relentless fury. and today your votaries are drenching europe's soil with blood. "thou shalt not commit adultery." your most immaculate saints violate this commandment and become a stench in the nostrils of decent people. "thou shalt not steal." today the prisons of europe and america shelter three hundred thousand christian thieves. "thou shalt not bear false witness." perjury is rife in christendom; and even in heathen lands the very name of christianity has become a synonym for falsehood and deceit. "thou shalt not covet." your history is the history of covetousness itself. christian rome has tried to devour the world. a little while ago we saw the greek cross planted upon the balkan--saw the russian eagle perched upon those snowy crags, gloating over the misfortunes of turkey, eager to clutch in his greedy talons the territory of islam, and prevented only by the jealous wolves of protestantism. no wonder that the warmest hearts and brightest intellects are leaving you. upon your walls they read the fateful words that met the terrified gaze of babylon's sinful king. your devotees are looking forward to a millennium when your power on earth shall be supreme. delusive phantom! your millennium has come and gone. that dark blot on the page of history--that withering pall stretching across the centuries from constantine to luther--that constitutes the thousand years of christian rule foretold in the apocalypse. but that has past, and your power is vanishing, never to be restored again. from the ashes of that dauntless hero, giordano bruno, young science, phoenixlike, arose, and in the soil prepared by luther, sowed the seed whose harvest is your death. even now i hear your death-knell ringing; even now i gaze into a sepulchre where soon must lie your bible and your creeds--your stakes, your gibbets and your racks--your priests, your devil and your god! and when the last have been entombed, then gather up the crumbling bones of the one hundred million human beings who have perished at your hands, and let this ghastly pile remain, a most befitting monument to your unbounded cruelties and crimes! it is a pleasing thought to know that bigotry is fading from the earth. it can flourish only in the malarial swamps of ignorance and superstition, and the poisonous vapors arising from these loathsome regions are being fast dispelled by the sun of science. an incident in the life of nicholas i. of russia furnishes a fitting parallel to what the bigots of our time are now experiencing. among the many admirers of that other great deist, voltaire, was the empress catharine, who ordered a statue of him from the leading sculptor of europe. when it arrived catharine was dying, and for years it lay untouched in the box in which it had been shipped. at length alexander caused it to be set up in a room of the imperial palace, where it remained until nicholas ascended the throne. nicholas was a most admirable type of the religious bigot; he was ignorant and intolerant, and the character of voltaire was the object of his especial hatred. hardly had he donned the imperial robes before he began to realize "how uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." an insurrection had broken out in one of his provinces. troubled and perplexed, he was wandering through the halls of the palace when, suddenly, he stood face to face with the statue of voltaire. that haughty smile, so natural to the face of the living voltaire, had been transferred to his marble image; and now it seemed to mock the troubled emperor. he summoned one of his ministers and ordered him to remove the offensive work. the minister did so, placing it in an old lumber room of the palace. all went well with the emperor until one night the cry of "fire!" resounded in his ears. the palace was on fire. rushing to the scene of the conflagration he chanced to pass through the very room to which the statue had been removed, and again he stood before the object of his hatred. the red glare of the flames added to the terrors of the scene, and, for a moment, nicholas fancied himself translated to the dominions of satan and standing before his throne. the flames were finally extinguished, the greater portion of the palace was saved, and with it the statue. but the remembrance of this terrible scene haunted him like an apparition all night long. he could not sleep. in the morning he summoned his minister and ordered him to destroy the work of art. out of respect for the dead catharine the order was unheeded. years rolled by; the armies of england and france had invaded the crimea and defeated with frightful slaughter the armies of the czar. then flashed to st. petersburg news of the bombardment of sebastopol which ultimately fell. it was night, and, wild with anguish, nicholas was again wandering through those desolate halls--lighted only by the weird moonbeams that came straggling through the palace windows--when, for the third time, he was confronted by the ghostly statue. again he summoned his minister. but his iconoclastic spirit was broken. he no longer demanded the destruction of the statue, but simply begged his official to remove it to where he should never more behold it. the wily minister bethought him of a place never visited by his sovereign, and accordingly had it removed to the imperial library. nicholas is no more; but the statue remains--a silent monarch in that realm of thought--an object, not of abhorrence and dread, but of admiration. as the russian bigot was haunted by the statue of voltaire, so the bigots of our day and country are haunted by the memory of paine. theological insurrections are breaking out on every hand; the intellectual fires of the twentieth century are encircling and consuming the rude palace of superstition; they hear the cannon of science thundering before the walls of their sebastopol. terror-stricken, aimlessly and hopelessly they wander on, only to be confronted at every turn by the ghost of thomas paine. unhappy beings, this will not forever last. not always will the good name of thomas paine stand as a phantom to frighten bigots. gently and lovingly his friends are removing it, passing it on from generation to generation, to a better and a grander age--to an age across whose threshold no bigot's foot shall ever pass. then, when the republic of the world has been established, and the religion of humanity has become the universal religion, all mankind will recognize the worth and revere the memory of him who wrote the political and religious creed of this glorious day: --the world is my country, to do good my religion. the end. the prince by nicolo machiavelli translated by w. k. marriott nicolo machiavelli, born at florence on rd may . from to held an official post at florence which included diplomatic missions to various european courts. imprisoned in florence, ; later exiled and returned to san casciano. died at florence on nd june . introduction nicolo machiavelli was born at florence on rd may . he was the second son of bernardo di nicolo machiavelli, a lawyer of some repute, and of bartolommea di stefano nelli, his wife. both parents were members of the old florentine nobility. his life falls naturally into three periods, each of which singularly enough constitutes a distinct and important era in the history of florence. his youth was concurrent with the greatness of florence as an italian power under the guidance of lorenzo de' medici, il magnifico. the downfall of the medici in florence occurred in , in which year machiavelli entered the public service. during his official career florence was free under the government of a republic, which lasted until , when the medici returned to power, and machiavelli lost his office. the medici again ruled florence from until , when they were once more driven out. this was the period of machiavelli's literary activity and increasing influence; but he died, within a few weeks of the expulsion of the medici, on nd june , in his fifty-eighth year, without having regained office. youth -- aet. - -- - although there is little recorded of the youth of machiavelli, the florence of those days is so well known that the early environment of this representative citizen may be easily imagined. florence has been described as a city with two opposite currents of life, one directed by the fervent and austere savonarola, the other by the splendour-loving lorenzo. savonarola's influence upon the young machiavelli must have been slight, for although at one time he wielded immense power over the fortunes of florence, he only furnished machiavelli with a subject of a gibe in "the prince," where he is cited as an example of an unarmed prophet who came to a bad end. whereas the magnificence of the medicean rule during the life of lorenzo appeared to have impressed machiavelli strongly, for he frequently recurs to it in his writings, and it is to lorenzo's grandson that he dedicates "the prince." machiavelli, in his "history of florence," gives us a picture of the young men among whom his youth was passed. he writes: "they were freer than their forefathers in dress and living, and spent more in other kinds of excesses, consuming their time and money in idleness, gaming, and women; their chief aim was to appear well dressed and to speak with wit and acuteness, whilst he who could wound others the most cleverly was thought the wisest." in a letter to his son guido, machiavelli shows why youth should avail itself of its opportunities for study, and leads us to infer that his own youth had been so occupied. he writes: "i have received your letter, which has given me the greatest pleasure, especially because you tell me you are quite restored in health, than which i could have no better news; for if god grant life to you, and to me, i hope to make a good man of you if you are willing to do your share." then, writing of a new patron, he continues: "this will turn out well for you, but it is necessary for you to study; since, then, you have no longer the excuse of illness, take pains to study letters and music, for you see what honour is done to me for the little skill i have. therefore, my son, if you wish to please me, and to bring success and honour to yourself, do right and study, because others will help you if you help yourself." office -- aet. - -- - the second period of machiavelli's life was spent in the service of the free republic of florence, which flourished, as stated above, from the expulsion of the medici in until their return in . after serving four years in one of the public offices he was appointed chancellor and secretary to the second chancery, the ten of liberty and peace. here we are on firm ground when dealing with the events of machiavelli's life, for during this time he took a leading part in the affairs of the republic, and we have its decrees, records, and dispatches to guide us, as well as his own writings. a mere recapitulation of a few of his transactions with the statesmen and soldiers of his time gives a fair indication of his activities, and supplies the sources from which he drew the experiences and characters which illustrate "the prince." his first mission was in to catherina sforza, "my lady of forli" of "the prince," from whose conduct and fate he drew the moral that it is far better to earn the confidence of the people than to rely on fortresses. this is a very noticeable principle in machiavelli, and is urged by him in many ways as a matter of vital importance to princes. in he was sent to france to obtain terms from louis xii for continuing the war against pisa: this king it was who, in his conduct of affairs in italy, committed the five capital errors in statecraft summarized in "the prince," and was consequently driven out. he, also, it was who made the dissolution of his marriage a condition of support to pope alexander vi; which leads machiavelli to refer those who urge that such promises should be kept to what he has written concerning the faith of princes. machiavelli's public life was largely occupied with events arising out of the ambitions of pope alexander vi and his son, cesare borgia, the duke valentino, and these characters fill a large space of "the prince." machiavelli never hesitates to cite the actions of the duke for the benefit of usurpers who wish to keep the states they have seized; he can, indeed, find no precepts to offer so good as the pattern of cesare borgia's conduct, insomuch that cesare is acclaimed by some critics as the "hero" of "the prince." yet in "the prince" the duke is in point of fact cited as a type of the man who rises on the fortune of others, and falls with them; who takes every course that might be expected from a prudent man but the course which will save him; who is prepared for all eventualities but the one which happens; and who, when all his abilities fail to carry him through, exclaims that it was not his fault, but an extraordinary and unforeseen fatality. on the death of pius iii, in , machiavelli was sent to rome to watch the election of his successor, and there he saw cesare borgia cheated into allowing the choice of the college to fall on giuliano delle rovere (julius ii), who was one of the cardinals that had most reason to fear the duke. machiavelli, when commenting on this election, says that he who thinks new favours will cause great personages to forget old injuries deceives himself. julius did not rest until he had ruined cesare. it was to julius ii that machiavelli was sent in , when that pontiff was commencing his enterprise against bologna; which he brought to a successful issue, as he did many of his other adventures, owing chiefly to his impetuous character. it is in reference to pope julius that machiavelli moralizes on the resemblance between fortune and women, and concludes that it is the bold rather than the cautious man that will win and hold them both. it is impossible to follow here the varying fortunes of the italian states, which in were controlled by france, spain, and germany, with results that have lasted to our day; we are concerned with those events, and with the three great actors in them, so far only as they impinge on the personality of machiavelli. he had several meetings with louis xii of france, and his estimate of that monarch's character has already been alluded to. machiavelli has painted ferdinand of aragon as the man who accomplished great things under the cloak of religion, but who in reality had no mercy, faith, humanity, or integrity; and who, had he allowed himself to be influenced by such motives, would have been ruined. the emperor maximilian was one of the most interesting men of the age, and his character has been drawn by many hands; but machiavelli, who was an envoy at his court in - , reveals the secret of his many failures when he describes him as a secretive man, without force of character--ignoring the human agencies necessary to carry his schemes into effect, and never insisting on the fulfilment of his wishes. the remaining years of machiavelli's official career were filled with events arising out of the league of cambrai, made in between the three great european powers already mentioned and the pope, with the object of crushing the venetian republic. this result was attained in the battle of vaila, when venice lost in one day all that she had won in eight hundred years. florence had a difficult part to play during these events, complicated as they were by the feud which broke out between the pope and the french, because friendship with france had dictated the entire policy of the republic. when, in , julius ii finally formed the holy league against france, and with the assistance of the swiss drove the french out of italy, florence lay at the mercy of the pope, and had to submit to his terms, one of which was that the medici should be restored. the return of the medici to florence on st september , and the consequent fall of the republic, was the signal for the dismissal of machiavelli and his friends, and thus put an end to his public career, for, as we have seen, he died without regaining office. literature and death -- aet. - -- - on the return of the medici, machiavelli, who for a few weeks had vainly hoped to retain his office under the new masters of florence, was dismissed by decree dated th november . shortly after this he was accused of complicity in an abortive conspiracy against the medici, imprisoned, and put to the question by torture. the new medicean pope, leo x, procured his release, and he retired to his small property at san casciano, near florence, where he devoted himself to literature. in a letter to francesco vettori, dated th december , he has left a very interesting description of his life at this period, which elucidates his methods and his motives in writing "the prince." after describing his daily occupations with his family and neighbours, he writes: "the evening being come, i return home and go to my study; at the entrance i pull off my peasant-clothes, covered with dust and dirt, and put on my noble court dress, and thus becomingly re-clothed i pass into the ancient courts of the men of old, where, being lovingly received by them, i am fed with that food which is mine alone; where i do not hesitate to speak with them, and to ask for the reason of their actions, and they in their benignity answer me; and for four hours i feel no weariness, i forget every trouble, poverty does not dismay, death does not terrify me; i am possessed entirely by those great men. and because dante says: knowledge doth come of learning well retained, unfruitful else, i have noted down what i have gained from their conversation, and have composed a small work on 'principalities,' where i pour myself out as fully as i can in meditation on the subject, discussing what a principality is, what kinds there are, how they can be acquired, how they can be kept, why they are lost: and if any of my fancies ever pleased you, this ought not to displease you: and to a prince, especially to a new one, it should be welcome: therefore i dedicate it to his magnificence giuliano. filippo casavecchio has seen it; he will be able to tell you what is in it, and of the discourses i have had with him; nevertheless, i am still enriching and polishing it." the "little book" suffered many vicissitudes before attaining the form in which it has reached us. various mental influences were at work during its composition; its title and patron were changed; and for some unknown reason it was finally dedicated to lorenzo de' medici. although machiavelli discussed with casavecchio whether it should be sent or presented in person to the patron, there is no evidence that lorenzo ever received or even read it: he certainly never gave machiavelli any employment. although it was plagiarized during machiavelli's lifetime, "the prince" was never published by him, and its text is still disputable. machiavelli concludes his letter to vettori thus: "and as to this little thing [his book], when it has been read it will be seen that during the fifteen years i have given to the study of statecraft i have neither slept nor idled; and men ought ever to desire to be served by one who has reaped experience at the expense of others. and of my loyalty none could doubt, because having always kept faith i could not now learn how to break it; for he who has been faithful and honest, as i have, cannot change his nature; and my poverty is a witness to my honesty." before machiavelli had got "the prince" off his hands he commenced his "discourse on the first decade of titus livius," which should be read concurrently with "the prince." these and several minor works occupied him until the year , when he accepted a small commission to look after the affairs of some florentine merchants at genoa. in the medicean rulers of florence granted a few political concessions to her citizens, and machiavelli with others was consulted upon a new constitution under which the great council was to be restored; but on one pretext or another it was not promulgated. in the florentine merchants again had recourse to machiavelli to settle their difficulties with lucca, but this year was chiefly remarkable for his re-entry into florentine literary society, where he was much sought after, and also for the production of his "art of war." it was in the same year that he received a commission at the instance of cardinal de' medici to write the "history of florence," a task which occupied him until . his return to popular favour may have determined the medici to give him this employment, for an old writer observes that "an able statesman out of work, like a huge whale, will endeavour to overturn the ship unless he has an empty cask to play with." when the "history of florence" was finished, machiavelli took it to rome for presentation to his patron, giuliano de' medici, who had in the meanwhile become pope under the title of clement vii. it is somewhat remarkable that, as, in , machiavelli had written "the prince" for the instruction of the medici after they had just regained power in florence, so, in , he dedicated the "history of florence" to the head of the family when its ruin was now at hand. in that year the battle of pavia destroyed the french rule in italy, and left francis i a prisoner in the hands of his great rival, charles v. this was followed by the sack of rome, upon the news of which the popular party at florence threw off the yoke of the medici, who were once more banished. machiavelli was absent from florence at this time, but hastened his return, hoping to secure his former office of secretary to the "ten of liberty and peace." unhappily he was taken ill soon after he reached florence, where he died on nd june . the man and his works no one can say where the bones of machiavelli rest, but modern florence has decreed him a stately cenotaph in santa croce, by the side of her most famous sons; recognizing that, whatever other nations may have found in his works, italy found in them the idea of her unity and the germs of her renaissance among the nations of europe. whilst it is idle to protest against the world-wide and evil signification of his name, it may be pointed out that the harsh construction of his doctrine which this sinister reputation implies was unknown to his own day, and that the researches of recent times have enabled us to interpret him more reasonably. it is due to these inquiries that the shape of an "unholy necromancer," which so long haunted men's vision, has begun to fade. machiavelli was undoubtedly a man of great observation, acuteness, and industry; noting with appreciative eye whatever passed before him, and with his supreme literary gift turning it to account in his enforced retirement from affairs. he does not present himself, nor is he depicted by his contemporaries, as a type of that rare combination, the successful statesman and author, for he appears to have been only moderately prosperous in his several embassies and political employments. he was misled by catherina sforza, ignored by louis xii, overawed by cesare borgia; several of his embassies were quite barren of results; his attempts to fortify florence failed, and the soldiery that he raised astonished everybody by their cowardice. in the conduct of his own affairs he was timid and time-serving; he dared not appear by the side of soderini, to whom he owed so much, for fear of compromising himself; his connection with the medici was open to suspicion, and giuliano appears to have recognized his real forte when he set him to write the "history of florence," rather than employ him in the state. and it is on the literary side of his character, and there alone, that we find no weakness and no failure. although the light of almost four centuries has been focused on "the prince," its problems are still debatable and interesting, because they are the eternal problems between the ruled and their rulers. such as they are, its ethics are those of machiavelli's contemporaries; yet they cannot be said to be out of date so long as the governments of europe rely on material rather than on moral forces. its historical incidents and personages become interesting by reason of the uses which machiavelli makes of them to illustrate his theories of government and conduct. leaving out of consideration those maxims of state which still furnish some european and eastern statesmen with principles of action, "the prince" is bestrewn with truths that can be proved at every turn. men are still the dupes of their simplicity and greed, as they were in the days of alexander vi. the cloak of religion still conceals the vices which machiavelli laid bare in the character of ferdinand of aragon. men will not look at things as they really are, but as they wish them to be--and are ruined. in politics there are no perfectly safe courses; prudence consists in choosing the least dangerous ones. then--to pass to a higher plane--machiavelli reiterates that, although crimes may win an empire, they do not win glory. necessary wars are just wars, and the arms of a nation are hallowed when it has no other resource but to fight. it is the cry of a far later day than machiavelli's that government should be elevated into a living moral force, capable of inspiring the people with a just recognition of the fundamental principles of society; to this "high argument" "the prince" contributes but little. machiavelli always refused to write either of men or of governments otherwise than as he found them, and he writes with such skill and insight that his work is of abiding value. but what invests "the prince" with more than a merely artistic or historical interest is the incontrovertible truth that it deals with the great principles which still guide nations and rulers in their relationship with each other and their neighbours. in translating "the prince" my aim has been to achieve at all costs an exact literal rendering of the original, rather than a fluent paraphrase adapted to the modern notions of style and expression. machiavelli was no facile phrasemonger; the conditions under which he wrote obliged him to weigh every word; his themes were lofty, his substance grave, his manner nobly plain and serious. "quis eo fuit unquam in partiundis rebus, in definiendis, in explanandis pressior?" in "the prince," it may be truly said, there is reason assignable, not only for every word, but for the position of every word. to an englishman of shakespeare's time the translation of such a treatise was in some ways a comparatively easy task, for in those times the genius of the english more nearly resembled that of the italian language; to the englishman of to-day it is not so simple. to take a single example: the word "intrattenere," employed by machiavelli to indicate the policy adopted by the roman senate towards the weaker states of greece, would by an elizabethan be correctly rendered "entertain," and every contemporary reader would understand what was meant by saying that "rome entertained the aetolians and the achaeans without augmenting their power." but to-day such a phrase would seem obsolete and ambiguous, if not unmeaning: we are compelled to say that "rome maintained friendly relations with the aetolians," etc., using four words to do the work of one. i have tried to preserve the pithy brevity of the italian so far as was consistent with an absolute fidelity to the sense. if the result be an occasional asperity i can only hope that the reader, in his eagerness to reach the author's meaning, may overlook the roughness of the road that leads him to it. the following is a list of the works of machiavelli: principal works. discorso sopra le cose di pisa, ; del modo di trattare i popoli della valdichiana ribellati, ; del modo tenuto dal duca valentino nell' ammazzare vitellozzo vitelli, oliverotto da fermo, etc., ; discorso sopra la provisione del danaro, ; decennale primo (poem in terza rima), ; ritratti delle cose dell' alemagna, - ; decennale secondo, ; ritratti delle cose di francia, ; discorsi sopra la prima deca di t. livio, vols., - ; il principe, ; andria, comedy translated from terence, (?); mandragola, prose comedy in five acts, with prologue in verse, ; della lingua (dialogue), ; clizia, comedy in prose, (?); belfagor arcidiavolo (novel), ; asino d'oro (poem in terza rima), ; dell' arte della guerra, - ; discorso sopra il riformare lo stato di firenze, ; sommario delle cose della citta di lucca, ; vita di castruccio castracani da lucca, ; istorie fiorentine, books, - ; frammenti storici, . other poems include sonetti, canzoni, ottave, and canti carnascialeschi. editions. aldo, venice, ; della tertina, ; cambiagi, florence, vols., - ; dei classici, milan, ; silvestri, vols., - ; passerini, fanfani, milanesi, vols. only published, - . minor works. ed. f. l. polidori, ; lettere familiari, ed. e. alvisi, , editions, one with excisions; credited writings, ed. g. canestrini, ; letters to f. vettori, see a. ridolfi, pensieri intorno allo scopo di n. machiavelli nel libro il principe, etc.; d. ferrara, the private correspondence of nicolo machiavelli, . dedication to the magnificent lorenzo di piero de' medici: those who strive to obtain the good graces of a prince are accustomed to come before him with such things as they hold most precious, or in which they see him take most delight; whence one often sees horses, arms, cloth of gold, precious stones, and similar ornaments presented to princes, worthy of their greatness. desiring therefore to present myself to your magnificence with some testimony of my devotion towards you, i have not found among my possessions anything which i hold more dear than, or value so much as, the knowledge of the actions of great men, acquired by long experience in contemporary affairs, and a continual study of antiquity; which, having reflected upon it with great and prolonged diligence, i now send, digested into a little volume, to your magnificence. and although i may consider this work unworthy of your countenance, nevertheless i trust much to your benignity that it may be acceptable, seeing that it is not possible for me to make a better gift than to offer you the opportunity of understanding in the shortest time all that i have learnt in so many years, and with so many troubles and dangers; which work i have not embellished with swelling or magnificent words, nor stuffed with rounded periods, nor with any extrinsic allurements or adornments whatever, with which so many are accustomed to embellish their works; for i have wished either that no honour should be given it, or else that the truth of the matter and the weightiness of the theme shall make it acceptable. nor do i hold with those who regard it as a presumption if a man of low and humble condition dare to discuss and settle the concerns of princes; because, just as those who draw landscapes place themselves below in the plain to contemplate the nature of the mountains and of lofty places, and in order to contemplate the plains place themselves upon high mountains, even so to understand the nature of the people it needs to be a prince, and to understand that of princes it needs to be of the people. take then, your magnificence, this little gift in the spirit in which i send it; wherein, if it be diligently read and considered by you, you will learn my extreme desire that you should attain that greatness which fortune and your other attributes promise. and if your magnificence from the summit of your greatness will sometimes turn your eyes to these lower regions, you will see how unmeritedly i suffer a great and continued malignity of fortune. the prince chapter i -- how many kinds of principalities there are, and by what means they are acquired all states, all powers, that have held and hold rule over men have been and are either republics or principalities. principalities are either hereditary, in which the family has been long established; or they are new. the new are either entirely new, as was milan to francesco sforza, or they are, as it were, members annexed to the hereditary state of the prince who has acquired them, as was the kingdom of naples to that of the king of spain. such dominions thus acquired are either accustomed to live under a prince, or to live in freedom; and are acquired either by the arms of the prince himself, or of others, or else by fortune or by ability. chapter ii -- concerning hereditary principalities i will leave out all discussion on republics, inasmuch as in another place i have written of them at length, and will address myself only to principalities. in doing so i will keep to the order indicated above, and discuss how such principalities are to be ruled and preserved. i say at once there are fewer difficulties in holding hereditary states, and those long accustomed to the family of their prince, than new ones; for it is sufficient only not to transgress the customs of his ancestors, and to deal prudently with circumstances as they arise, for a prince of average powers to maintain himself in his state, unless he be deprived of it by some extraordinary and excessive force; and if he should be so deprived of it, whenever anything sinister happens to the usurper, he will regain it. we have in italy, for example, the duke of ferrara, who could not have withstood the attacks of the venetians in ' , nor those of pope julius in ' , unless he had been long established in his dominions. for the hereditary prince has less cause and less necessity to offend; hence it happens that he will be more loved; and unless extraordinary vices cause him to be hated, it is reasonable to expect that his subjects will be naturally well disposed towards him; and in the antiquity and duration of his rule the memories and motives that make for change are lost, for one change always leaves the toothing for another. chapter iii -- concerning mixed principalities but the difficulties occur in a new principality. and firstly, if it be not entirely new, but is, as it were, a member of a state which, taken collectively, may be called composite, the changes arise chiefly from an inherent difficulty which there is in all new principalities; for men change their rulers willingly, hoping to better themselves, and this hope induces them to take up arms against him who rules: wherein they are deceived, because they afterwards find by experience they have gone from bad to worse. this follows also on another natural and common necessity, which always causes a new prince to burden those who have submitted to him with his soldiery and with infinite other hardships which he must put upon his new acquisition. in this way you have enemies in all those whom you have injured in seizing that principality, and you are not able to keep those friends who put you there because of your not being able to satisfy them in the way they expected, and you cannot take strong measures against them, feeling bound to them. for, although one may be very strong in armed forces, yet in entering a province one has always need of the goodwill of the natives. for these reasons louis the twelfth, king of france, quickly occupied milan, and as quickly lost it; and to turn him out the first time it only needed lodovico's own forces; because those who had opened the gates to him, finding themselves deceived in their hopes of future benefit, would not endure the ill-treatment of the new prince. it is very true that, after acquiring rebellious provinces a second time, they are not so lightly lost afterwards, because the prince, with little reluctance, takes the opportunity of the rebellion to punish the delinquents, to clear out the suspects, and to strengthen himself in the weakest places. thus to cause france to lose milan the first time it was enough for the duke lodovico(*) to raise insurrections on the borders; but to cause him to lose it a second time it was necessary to bring the whole world against him, and that his armies should be defeated and driven out of italy; which followed from the causes above mentioned. (*) duke lodovico was lodovico moro, a son of francesco sforza, who married beatrice d'este. he ruled over milan from to , and died in . nevertheless milan was taken from france both the first and the second time. the general reasons for the first have been discussed; it remains to name those for the second, and to see what resources he had, and what any one in his situation would have had for maintaining himself more securely in his acquisition than did the king of france. now i say that those dominions which, when acquired, are added to an ancient state by him who acquires them, are either of the same country and language, or they are not. when they are, it is easier to hold them, especially when they have not been accustomed to self-government; and to hold them securely it is enough to have destroyed the family of the prince who was ruling them; because the two peoples, preserving in other things the old conditions, and not being unlike in customs, will live quietly together, as one has seen in brittany, burgundy, gascony, and normandy, which have been bound to france for so long a time: and, although there may be some difference in language, nevertheless the customs are alike, and the people will easily be able to get on amongst themselves. he who has annexed them, if he wishes to hold them, has only to bear in mind two considerations: the one, that the family of their former lord is extinguished; the other, that neither their laws nor their taxes are altered, so that in a very short time they will become entirely one body with the old principality. but when states are acquired in a country differing in language, customs, or laws, there are difficulties, and good fortune and great energy are needed to hold them, and one of the greatest and most real helps would be that he who has acquired them should go and reside there. this would make his position more secure and durable, as it has made that of the turk in greece, who, notwithstanding all the other measures taken by him for holding that state, if he had not settled there, would not have been able to keep it. because, if one is on the spot, disorders are seen as they spring up, and one can quickly remedy them; but if one is not at hand, they are heard of only when they are great, and then one can no longer remedy them. besides this, the country is not pillaged by your officials; the subjects are satisfied by prompt recourse to the prince; thus, wishing to be good, they have more cause to love him, and wishing to be otherwise, to fear him. he who would attack that state from the outside must have the utmost caution; as long as the prince resides there it can only be wrested from him with the greatest difficulty. the other and better course is to send colonies to one or two places, which may be as keys to that state, for it is necessary either to do this or else to keep there a great number of cavalry and infantry. a prince does not spend much on colonies, for with little or no expense he can send them out and keep them there, and he offends a minority only of the citizens from whom he takes lands and houses to give them to the new inhabitants; and those whom he offends, remaining poor and scattered, are never able to injure him; whilst the rest being uninjured are easily kept quiet, and at the same time are anxious not to err for fear it should happen to them as it has to those who have been despoiled. in conclusion, i say that these colonies are not costly, they are more faithful, they injure less, and the injured, as has been said, being poor and scattered, cannot hurt. upon this, one has to remark that men ought either to be well treated or crushed, because they can avenge themselves of lighter injuries, of more serious ones they cannot; therefore the injury that is to be done to a man ought to be of such a kind that one does not stand in fear of revenge. but in maintaining armed men there in place of colonies one spends much more, having to consume on the garrison all the income from the state, so that the acquisition turns into a loss, and many more are exasperated, because the whole state is injured; through the shifting of the garrison up and down all become acquainted with hardship, and all become hostile, and they are enemies who, whilst beaten on their own ground, are yet able to do hurt. for every reason, therefore, such guards are as useless as a colony is useful. again, the prince who holds a country differing in the above respects ought to make himself the head and defender of his less powerful neighbours, and to weaken the more powerful amongst them, taking care that no foreigner as powerful as himself shall, by any accident, get a footing there; for it will always happen that such a one will be introduced by those who are discontented, either through excess of ambition or through fear, as one has seen already. the romans were brought into greece by the aetolians; and in every other country where they obtained a footing they were brought in by the inhabitants. and the usual course of affairs is that, as soon as a powerful foreigner enters a country, all the subject states are drawn to him, moved by the hatred which they feel against the ruling power. so that in respect to those subject states he has not to take any trouble to gain them over to himself, for the whole of them quickly rally to the state which he has acquired there. he has only to take care that they do not get hold of too much power and too much authority, and then with his own forces, and with their goodwill, he can easily keep down the more powerful of them, so as to remain entirely master in the country. and he who does not properly manage this business will soon lose what he has acquired, and whilst he does hold it he will have endless difficulties and troubles. the romans, in the countries which they annexed, observed closely these measures; they sent colonies and maintained friendly relations with(*) the minor powers, without increasing their strength; they kept down the greater, and did not allow any strong foreign powers to gain authority. greece appears to me sufficient for an example. the achaeans and aetolians were kept friendly by them, the kingdom of macedonia was humbled, antiochus was driven out; yet the merits of the achaeans and aetolians never secured for them permission to increase their power, nor did the persuasions of philip ever induce the romans to be his friends without first humbling him, nor did the influence of antiochus make them agree that he should retain any lordship over the country. because the romans did in these instances what all prudent princes ought to do, who have to regard not only present troubles, but also future ones, for which they must prepare with every energy, because, when foreseen, it is easy to remedy them; but if you wait until they approach, the medicine is no longer in time because the malady has become incurable; for it happens in this, as the physicians say it happens in hectic fever, that in the beginning of the malady it is easy to cure but difficult to detect, but in the course of time, not having been either detected or treated in the beginning, it becomes easy to detect but difficult to cure. thus it happens in affairs of state, for when the evils that arise have been foreseen (which it is only given to a wise man to see), they can be quickly redressed, but when, through not having been foreseen, they have been permitted to grow in a way that every one can see them, there is no longer a remedy. therefore, the romans, foreseeing troubles, dealt with them at once, and, even to avoid a war, would not let them come to a head, for they knew that war is not to be avoided, but is only to be put off to the advantage of others; moreover they wished to fight with philip and antiochus in greece so as not to have to do it in italy; they could have avoided both, but this they did not wish; nor did that ever please them which is forever in the mouths of the wise ones of our time:--let us enjoy the benefits of the time--but rather the benefits of their own valour and prudence, for time drives everything before it, and is able to bring with it good as well as evil, and evil as well as good. (*) see remark in the introduction on the word "intrattenere." but let us turn to france and inquire whether she has done any of the things mentioned. i will speak of louis(*) (and not of charles)(+) as the one whose conduct is the better to be observed, he having held possession of italy for the longest period; and you will see that he has done the opposite to those things which ought to be done to retain a state composed of divers elements. (*) louis xii, king of france, "the father of the people," born , died . (+) charles viii, king of france, born , died . king louis was brought into italy by the ambition of the venetians, who desired to obtain half the state of lombardy by his intervention. i will not blame the course taken by the king, because, wishing to get a foothold in italy, and having no friends there--seeing rather that every door was shut to him owing to the conduct of charles--he was forced to accept those friendships which he could get, and he would have succeeded very quickly in his design if in other matters he had not made some mistakes. the king, however, having acquired lombardy, regained at once the authority which charles had lost: genoa yielded; the florentines became his friends; the marquess of mantua, the duke of ferrara, the bentivogli, my lady of forli, the lords of faenza, of pesaro, of rimini, of camerino, of piombino, the lucchese, the pisans, the sienese--everybody made advances to him to become his friend. then could the venetians realize the rashness of the course taken by them, which, in order that they might secure two towns in lombardy, had made the king master of two-thirds of italy. let any one now consider with what little difficulty the king could have maintained his position in italy had he observed the rules above laid down, and kept all his friends secure and protected; for although they were numerous they were both weak and timid, some afraid of the church, some of the venetians, and thus they would always have been forced to stand in with him, and by their means he could easily have made himself secure against those who remained powerful. but he was no sooner in milan than he did the contrary by assisting pope alexander to occupy the romagna. it never occurred to him that by this action he was weakening himself, depriving himself of friends and of those who had thrown themselves into his lap, whilst he aggrandized the church by adding much temporal power to the spiritual, thus giving it greater authority. and having committed this prime error, he was obliged to follow it up, so much so that, to put an end to the ambition of alexander, and to prevent his becoming the master of tuscany, he was himself forced to come into italy. and as if it were not enough to have aggrandized the church, and deprived himself of friends, he, wishing to have the kingdom of naples, divided it with the king of spain, and where he was the prime arbiter in italy he takes an associate, so that the ambitious of that country and the malcontents of his own should have somewhere to shelter; and whereas he could have left in the kingdom his own pensioner as king, he drove him out, to put one there who was able to drive him, louis, out in turn. the wish to acquire is in truth very natural and common, and men always do so when they can, and for this they will be praised not blamed; but when they cannot do so, yet wish to do so by any means, then there is folly and blame. therefore, if france could have attacked naples with her own forces she ought to have done so; if she could not, then she ought not to have divided it. and if the partition which she made with the venetians in lombardy was justified by the excuse that by it she got a foothold in italy, this other partition merited blame, for it had not the excuse of that necessity. therefore louis made these five errors: he destroyed the minor powers, he increased the strength of one of the greater powers in italy, he brought in a foreign power, he did not settle in the country, he did not send colonies. which errors, had he lived, were not enough to injure him had he not made a sixth by taking away their dominions from the venetians; because, had he not aggrandized the church, nor brought spain into italy, it would have been very reasonable and necessary to humble them; but having first taken these steps, he ought never to have consented to their ruin, for they, being powerful, would always have kept off others from designs on lombardy, to which the venetians would never have consented except to become masters themselves there; also because the others would not wish to take lombardy from france in order to give it to the venetians, and to run counter to both they would not have had the courage. and if any one should say: "king louis yielded the romagna to alexander and the kingdom to spain to avoid war," i answer for the reasons given above that a blunder ought never to be perpetrated to avoid war, because it is not to be avoided, but is only deferred to your disadvantage. and if another should allege the pledge which the king had given to the pope that he would assist him in the enterprise, in exchange for the dissolution of his marriage(*) and for the cap to rouen,(+) to that i reply what i shall write later on concerning the faith of princes, and how it ought to be kept. (*) louis xii divorced his wife, jeanne, daughter of louis xi, and married in anne of brittany, widow of charles viii, in order to retain the duchy of brittany for the crown. (+) the archbishop of rouen. he was georges d'amboise, created a cardinal by alexander vi. born , died . thus king louis lost lombardy by not having followed any of the conditions observed by those who have taken possession of countries and wished to retain them. nor is there any miracle in this, but much that is reasonable and quite natural. and on these matters i spoke at nantes with rouen, when valentino, as cesare borgia, the son of pope alexander, was usually called, occupied the romagna, and on cardinal rouen observing to me that the italians did not understand war, i replied to him that the french did not understand statecraft, meaning that otherwise they would not have allowed the church to reach such greatness. and in fact it has been seen that the greatness of the church and of spain in italy has been caused by france, and her ruin may be attributed to them. from this a general rule is drawn which never or rarely fails: that he who is the cause of another becoming powerful is ruined; because that predominancy has been brought about either by astuteness or else by force, and both are distrusted by him who has been raised to power. chapter iv -- why the kingdom of darius, conquered by alexander, did not rebel against the successors of alexander at his death considering the difficulties which men have had to hold to a newly acquired state, some might wonder how, seeing that alexander the great became the master of asia in a few years, and died whilst it was scarcely settled (whence it might appear reasonable that the whole empire would have rebelled), nevertheless his successors maintained themselves, and had to meet no other difficulty than that which arose among themselves from their own ambitions. i answer that the principalities of which one has record are found to be governed in two different ways; either by a prince, with a body of servants, who assist him to govern the kingdom as ministers by his favour and permission; or by a prince and barons, who hold that dignity by antiquity of blood and not by the grace of the prince. such barons have states and their own subjects, who recognize them as lords and hold them in natural affection. those states that are governed by a prince and his servants hold their prince in more consideration, because in all the country there is no one who is recognized as superior to him, and if they yield obedience to another they do it as to a minister and official, and they do not bear him any particular affection. the examples of these two governments in our time are the turk and the king of france. the entire monarchy of the turk is governed by one lord, the others are his servants; and, dividing his kingdom into sanjaks, he sends there different administrators, and shifts and changes them as he chooses. but the king of france is placed in the midst of an ancient body of lords, acknowledged by their own subjects, and beloved by them; they have their own prerogatives, nor can the king take these away except at his peril. therefore, he who considers both of these states will recognize great difficulties in seizing the state of the turk, but, once it is conquered, great ease in holding it. the causes of the difficulties in seizing the kingdom of the turk are that the usurper cannot be called in by the princes of the kingdom, nor can he hope to be assisted in his designs by the revolt of those whom the lord has around him. this arises from the reasons given above; for his ministers, being all slaves and bondmen, can only be corrupted with great difficulty, and one can expect little advantage from them when they have been corrupted, as they cannot carry the people with them, for the reasons assigned. hence, he who attacks the turk must bear in mind that he will find him united, and he will have to rely more on his own strength than on the revolt of others; but, if once the turk has been conquered, and routed in the field in such a way that he cannot replace his armies, there is nothing to fear but the family of this prince, and, this being exterminated, there remains no one to fear, the others having no credit with the people; and as the conqueror did not rely on them before his victory, so he ought not to fear them after it. the contrary happens in kingdoms governed like that of france, because one can easily enter there by gaining over some baron of the kingdom, for one always finds malcontents and such as desire a change. such men, for the reasons given, can open the way into the state and render the victory easy; but if you wish to hold it afterwards, you meet with infinite difficulties, both from those who have assisted you and from those you have crushed. nor is it enough for you to have exterminated the family of the prince, because the lords that remain make themselves the heads of fresh movements against you, and as you are unable either to satisfy or exterminate them, that state is lost whenever time brings the opportunity. now if you will consider what was the nature of the government of darius, you will find it similar to the kingdom of the turk, and therefore it was only necessary for alexander, first to overthrow him in the field, and then to take the country from him. after which victory, darius being killed, the state remained secure to alexander, for the above reasons. and if his successors had been united they would have enjoyed it securely and at their ease, for there were no tumults raised in the kingdom except those they provoked themselves. but it is impossible to hold with such tranquillity states constituted like that of france. hence arose those frequent rebellions against the romans in spain, france, and greece, owing to the many principalities there were in these states, of which, as long as the memory of them endured, the romans always held an insecure possession; but with the power and long continuance of the empire the memory of them passed away, and the romans then became secure possessors. and when fighting afterwards amongst themselves, each one was able to attach to himself his own parts of the country, according to the authority he had assumed there; and the family of the former lord being exterminated, none other than the romans were acknowledged. when these things are remembered no one will marvel at the ease with which alexander held the empire of asia, or at the difficulties which others have had to keep an acquisition, such as pyrrhus and many more; this is not occasioned by the little or abundance of ability in the conqueror, but by the want of uniformity in the subject state. chapter v -- concerning the way to govern cities or principalities which lived under their own laws before they were annexed whenever those states which have been acquired as stated have been accustomed to live under their own laws and in freedom, there are three courses for those who wish to hold them: the first is to ruin them, the next is to reside there in person, the third is to permit them to live under their own laws, drawing a tribute, and establishing within it an oligarchy which will keep it friendly to you. because such a government, being created by the prince, knows that it cannot stand without his friendship and interest, and does it utmost to support him; and therefore he who would keep a city accustomed to freedom will hold it more easily by the means of its own citizens than in any other way. there are, for example, the spartans and the romans. the spartans held athens and thebes, establishing there an oligarchy; nevertheless they lost them. the romans, in order to hold capua, carthage, and numantia, dismantled them, and did not lose them. they wished to hold greece as the spartans held it, making it free and permitting its laws, and did not succeed. so to hold it they were compelled to dismantle many cities in the country, for in truth there is no safe way to retain them otherwise than by ruining them. and he who becomes master of a city accustomed to freedom and does not destroy it, may expect to be destroyed by it, for in rebellion it has always the watchword of liberty and its ancient privileges as a rallying point, which neither time nor benefits will ever cause it to forget. and whatever you may do or provide against, they never forget that name or their privileges unless they are disunited or dispersed, but at every chance they immediately rally to them, as pisa after the hundred years she had been held in bondage by the florentines. but when cities or countries are accustomed to live under a prince, and his family is exterminated, they, being on the one hand accustomed to obey and on the other hand not having the old prince, cannot agree in making one from amongst themselves, and they do not know how to govern themselves. for this reason they are very slow to take up arms, and a prince can gain them to himself and secure them much more easily. but in republics there is more vitality, greater hatred, and more desire for vengeance, which will never permit them to allow the memory of their former liberty to rest; so that the safest way is to destroy them or to reside there. chapter vi -- concerning new principalities which are acquired by one's own arms and ability let no one be surprised if, in speaking of entirely new principalities as i shall do, i adduce the highest examples both of prince and of state; because men, walking almost always in paths beaten by others, and following by imitation their deeds, are yet unable to keep entirely to the ways of others or attain to the power of those they imitate. a wise man ought always to follow the paths beaten by great men, and to imitate those who have been supreme, so that if his ability does not equal theirs, at least it will savour of it. let him act like the clever archers who, designing to hit the mark which yet appears too far distant, and knowing the limits to which the strength of their bow attains, take aim much higher than the mark, not to reach by their strength or arrow to so great a height, but to be able with the aid of so high an aim to hit the mark they wish to reach. i say, therefore, that in entirely new principalities, where there is a new prince, more or less difficulty is found in keeping them, accordingly as there is more or less ability in him who has acquired the state. now, as the fact of becoming a prince from a private station presupposes either ability or fortune, it is clear that one or other of these things will mitigate in some degree many difficulties. nevertheless, he who has relied least on fortune is established the strongest. further, it facilitates matters when the prince, having no other state, is compelled to reside there in person. but to come to those who, by their own ability and not through fortune, have risen to be princes, i say that moses, cyrus, romulus, theseus, and such like are the most excellent examples. and although one may not discuss moses, he having been a mere executor of the will of god, yet he ought to be admired, if only for that favour which made him worthy to speak with god. but in considering cyrus and others who have acquired or founded kingdoms, all will be found admirable; and if their particular deeds and conduct shall be considered, they will not be found inferior to those of moses, although he had so great a preceptor. and in examining their actions and lives one cannot see that they owed anything to fortune beyond opportunity, which brought them the material to mould into the form which seemed best to them. without that opportunity their powers of mind would have been extinguished, and without those powers the opportunity would have come in vain. it was necessary, therefore, to moses that he should find the people of israel in egypt enslaved and oppressed by the egyptians, in order that they should be disposed to follow him so as to be delivered out of bondage. it was necessary that romulus should not remain in alba, and that he should be abandoned at his birth, in order that he should become king of rome and founder of the fatherland. it was necessary that cyrus should find the persians discontented with the government of the medes, and the medes soft and effeminate through their long peace. theseus could not have shown his ability had he not found the athenians dispersed. these opportunities, therefore, made those men fortunate, and their high ability enabled them to recognize the opportunity whereby their country was ennobled and made famous. those who by valorous ways become princes, like these men, acquire a principality with difficulty, but they keep it with ease. the difficulties they have in acquiring it rise in part from the new rules and methods which they are forced to introduce to establish their government and its security. and it ought to be remembered that there is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things, because the innovator has for enemies all those who have done well under the old conditions, and lukewarm defenders in those who may do well under the new. this coolness arises partly from fear of the opponents, who have the laws on their side, and partly from the incredulity of men, who do not readily believe in new things until they have had a long experience of them. thus it happens that whenever those who are hostile have the opportunity to attack they do it like partisans, whilst the others defend lukewarmly, in such wise that the prince is endangered along with them. it is necessary, therefore, if we desire to discuss this matter thoroughly, to inquire whether these innovators can rely on themselves or have to depend on others: that is to say, whether, to consummate their enterprise, have they to use prayers or can they use force? in the first instance they always succeed badly, and never compass anything; but when they can rely on themselves and use force, then they are rarely endangered. hence it is that all armed prophets have conquered, and the unarmed ones have been destroyed. besides the reasons mentioned, the nature of the people is variable, and whilst it is easy to persuade them, it is difficult to fix them in that persuasion. and thus it is necessary to take such measures that, when they believe no longer, it may be possible to make them believe by force. if moses, cyrus, theseus, and romulus had been unarmed they could not have enforced their constitutions for long--as happened in our time to fra girolamo savonarola, who was ruined with his new order of things immediately the multitude believed in him no longer, and he had no means of keeping steadfast those who believed or of making the unbelievers to believe. therefore such as these have great difficulties in consummating their enterprise, for all their dangers are in the ascent, yet with ability they will overcome them; but when these are overcome, and those who envied them their success are exterminated, they will begin to be respected, and they will continue afterwards powerful, secure, honoured, and happy. to these great examples i wish to add a lesser one; still it bears some resemblance to them, and i wish it to suffice me for all of a like kind: it is hiero the syracusan.(*) this man rose from a private station to be prince of syracuse, nor did he, either, owe anything to fortune but opportunity; for the syracusans, being oppressed, chose him for their captain, afterwards he was rewarded by being made their prince. he was of so great ability, even as a private citizen, that one who writes of him says he wanted nothing but a kingdom to be a king. this man abolished the old soldiery, organized the new, gave up old alliances, made new ones; and as he had his own soldiers and allies, on such foundations he was able to build any edifice: thus, whilst he had endured much trouble in acquiring, he had but little in keeping. (*) hiero ii, born about b.c., died b.c. chapter vii -- concerning new principalities which are acquired either by the arms of others or by good fortune those who solely by good fortune become princes from being private citizens have little trouble in rising, but much in keeping atop; they have not any difficulties on the way up, because they fly, but they have many when they reach the summit. such are those to whom some state is given either for money or by the favour of him who bestows it; as happened to many in greece, in the cities of ionia and of the hellespont, where princes were made by darius, in order that they might hold the cities both for his security and his glory; as also were those emperors who, by the corruption of the soldiers, from being citizens came to empire. such stand simply elevated upon the goodwill and the fortune of him who has elevated them--two most inconstant and unstable things. neither have they the knowledge requisite for the position; because, unless they are men of great worth and ability, it is not reasonable to expect that they should know how to command, having always lived in a private condition; besides, they cannot hold it because they have not forces which they can keep friendly and faithful. states that rise unexpectedly, then, like all other things in nature which are born and grow rapidly, cannot leave their foundations and correspondencies(*) fixed in such a way that the first storm will not overthrow them; unless, as is said, those who unexpectedly become princes are men of so much ability that they know they have to be prepared at once to hold that which fortune has thrown into their laps, and that those foundations, which others have laid before they became princes, they must lay afterwards. (*) "le radici e corrispondenze," their roots (i.e. foundations) and correspondencies or relations with other states--a common meaning of "correspondence" and "correspondency" in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. concerning these two methods of rising to be a prince by ability or fortune, i wish to adduce two examples within our own recollection, and these are francesco sforza(*) and cesare borgia. francesco, by proper means and with great ability, from being a private person rose to be duke of milan, and that which he had acquired with a thousand anxieties he kept with little trouble. on the other hand, cesare borgia, called by the people duke valentino, acquired his state during the ascendancy of his father, and on its decline he lost it, notwithstanding that he had taken every measure and done all that ought to be done by a wise and able man to fix firmly his roots in the states which the arms and fortunes of others had bestowed on him. (*) francesco sforza, born , died . he married bianca maria visconti, a natural daughter of filippo visconti, the duke of milan, on whose death he procured his own elevation to the duchy. machiavelli was the accredited agent of the florentine republic to cesare borgia ( - ) during the transactions which led up to the assassinations of the orsini and vitelli at sinigalia, and along with his letters to his chiefs in florence he has left an account, written ten years before "the prince," of the proceedings of the duke in his "descritione del modo tenuto dal duca valentino nello ammazzare vitellozzo vitelli," etc., a translation of which is appended to the present work. because, as is stated above, he who has not first laid his foundations may be able with great ability to lay them afterwards, but they will be laid with trouble to the architect and danger to the building. if, therefore, all the steps taken by the duke be considered, it will be seen that he laid solid foundations for his future power, and i do not consider it superfluous to discuss them, because i do not know what better precepts to give a new prince than the example of his actions; and if his dispositions were of no avail, that was not his fault, but the extraordinary and extreme malignity of fortune. alexander the sixth, in wishing to aggrandize the duke, his son, had many immediate and prospective difficulties. firstly, he did not see his way to make him master of any state that was not a state of the church; and if he was willing to rob the church he knew that the duke of milan and the venetians would not consent, because faenza and rimini were already under the protection of the venetians. besides this, he saw the arms of italy, especially those by which he might have been assisted, in hands that would fear the aggrandizement of the pope, namely, the orsini and the colonnesi and their following. it behoved him, therefore, to upset this state of affairs and embroil the powers, so as to make himself securely master of part of their states. this was easy for him to do, because he found the venetians, moved by other reasons, inclined to bring back the french into italy; he would not only not oppose this, but he would render it more easy by dissolving the former marriage of king louis. therefore the king came into italy with the assistance of the venetians and the consent of alexander. he was no sooner in milan than the pope had soldiers from him for the attempt on the romagna, which yielded to him on the reputation of the king. the duke, therefore, having acquired the romagna and beaten the colonnesi, while wishing to hold that and to advance further, was hindered by two things: the one, his forces did not appear loyal to him, the other, the goodwill of france: that is to say, he feared that the forces of the orsini, which he was using, would not stand to him, that not only might they hinder him from winning more, but might themselves seize what he had won, and that the king might also do the same. of the orsini he had a warning when, after taking faenza and attacking bologna, he saw them go very unwillingly to that attack. and as to the king, he learned his mind when he himself, after taking the duchy of urbino, attacked tuscany, and the king made him desist from that undertaking; hence the duke decided to depend no more upon the arms and the luck of others. for the first thing he weakened the orsini and colonnesi parties in rome, by gaining to himself all their adherents who were gentlemen, making them his gentlemen, giving them good pay, and, according to their rank, honouring them with office and command in such a way that in a few months all attachment to the factions was destroyed and turned entirely to the duke. after this he awaited an opportunity to crush the orsini, having scattered the adherents of the colonna house. this came to him soon and he used it well; for the orsini, perceiving at length that the aggrandizement of the duke and the church was ruin to them, called a meeting of the magione in perugia. from this sprung the rebellion at urbino and the tumults in the romagna, with endless dangers to the duke, all of which he overcame with the help of the french. having restored his authority, not to leave it at risk by trusting either to the french or other outside forces, he had recourse to his wiles, and he knew so well how to conceal his mind that, by the mediation of signor pagolo--whom the duke did not fail to secure with all kinds of attention, giving him money, apparel, and horses--the orsini were reconciled, so that their simplicity brought them into his power at sinigalia.(*) having exterminated the leaders, and turned their partisans into his friends, the duke laid sufficiently good foundations to his power, having all the romagna and the duchy of urbino; and the people now beginning to appreciate their prosperity, he gained them all over to himself. and as this point is worthy of notice, and to be imitated by others, i am not willing to leave it out. (*) sinigalia, st december . when the duke occupied the romagna he found it under the rule of weak masters, who rather plundered their subjects than ruled them, and gave them more cause for disunion than for union, so that the country was full of robbery, quarrels, and every kind of violence; and so, wishing to bring back peace and obedience to authority, he considered it necessary to give it a good governor. thereupon he promoted messer ramiro d'orco,(*) a swift and cruel man, to whom he gave the fullest power. this man in a short time restored peace and unity with the greatest success. afterwards the duke considered that it was not advisable to confer such excessive authority, for he had no doubt but that he would become odious, so he set up a court of judgment in the country, under a most excellent president, wherein all cities had their advocates. and because he knew that the past severity had caused some hatred against himself, so, to clear himself in the minds of the people, and gain them entirely to himself, he desired to show that, if any cruelty had been practised, it had not originated with him, but in the natural sternness of the minister. under this pretence he took ramiro, and one morning caused him to be executed and left on the piazza at cesena with the block and a bloody knife at his side. the barbarity of this spectacle caused the people to be at once satisfied and dismayed. (*) ramiro d'orco. ramiro de lorqua. but let us return whence we started. i say that the duke, finding himself now sufficiently powerful and partly secured from immediate dangers by having armed himself in his own way, and having in a great measure crushed those forces in his vicinity that could injure him if he wished to proceed with his conquest, had next to consider france, for he knew that the king, who too late was aware of his mistake, would not support him. and from this time he began to seek new alliances and to temporize with france in the expedition which she was making towards the kingdom of naples against the spaniards who were besieging gaeta. it was his intention to secure himself against them, and this he would have quickly accomplished had alexander lived. such was his line of action as to present affairs. but as to the future he had to fear, in the first place, that a new successor to the church might not be friendly to him and might seek to take from him that which alexander had given him, so he decided to act in four ways. firstly, by exterminating the families of those lords whom he had despoiled, so as to take away that pretext from the pope. secondly, by winning to himself all the gentlemen of rome, so as to be able to curb the pope with their aid, as has been observed. thirdly, by converting the college more to himself. fourthly, by acquiring so much power before the pope should die that he could by his own measures resist the first shock. of these four things, at the death of alexander, he had accomplished three. for he had killed as many of the dispossessed lords as he could lay hands on, and few had escaped; he had won over the roman gentlemen, and he had the most numerous party in the college. and as to any fresh acquisition, he intended to become master of tuscany, for he already possessed perugia and piombino, and pisa was under his protection. and as he had no longer to study france (for the french were already driven out of the kingdom of naples by the spaniards, and in this way both were compelled to buy his goodwill), he pounced down upon pisa. after this, lucca and siena yielded at once, partly through hatred and partly through fear of the florentines; and the florentines would have had no remedy had he continued to prosper, as he was prospering the year that alexander died, for he had acquired so much power and reputation that he would have stood by himself, and no longer have depended on the luck and the forces of others, but solely on his own power and ability. but alexander died five years after he had first drawn the sword. he left the duke with the state of romagna alone consolidated, with the rest in the air, between two most powerful hostile armies, and sick unto death. yet there were in the duke such boldness and ability, and he knew so well how men are to be won or lost, and so firm were the foundations which in so short a time he had laid, that if he had not had those armies on his back, or if he had been in good health, he would have overcome all difficulties. and it is seen that his foundations were good, for the romagna awaited him for more than a month. in rome, although but half alive, he remained secure; and whilst the baglioni, the vitelli, and the orsini might come to rome, they could not effect anything against him. if he could not have made pope him whom he wished, at least the one whom he did not wish would not have been elected. but if he had been in sound health at the death of alexander,(*) everything would have been different to him. on the day that julius the second(+) was elected, he told me that he had thought of everything that might occur at the death of his father, and had provided a remedy for all, except that he had never anticipated that, when the death did happen, he himself would be on the point to die. (*) alexander vi died of fever, th august . (+) julius ii was giuliano della rovere, cardinal of san pietro ad vincula, born , died . when all the actions of the duke are recalled, i do not know how to blame him, but rather it appears to be, as i have said, that i ought to offer him for imitation to all those who, by the fortune or the arms of others, are raised to government. because he, having a lofty spirit and far-reaching aims, could not have regulated his conduct otherwise, and only the shortness of the life of alexander and his own sickness frustrated his designs. therefore, he who considers it necessary to secure himself in his new principality, to win friends, to overcome either by force or fraud, to make himself beloved and feared by the people, to be followed and revered by the soldiers, to exterminate those who have power or reason to hurt him, to change the old order of things for new, to be severe and gracious, magnanimous and liberal, to destroy a disloyal soldiery and to create new, to maintain friendship with kings and princes in such a way that they must help him with zeal and offend with caution, cannot find a more lively example than the actions of this man. only can he be blamed for the election of julius the second, in whom he made a bad choice, because, as is said, not being able to elect a pope to his own mind, he could have hindered any other from being elected pope; and he ought never to have consented to the election of any cardinal whom he had injured or who had cause to fear him if they became pontiffs. for men injure either from fear or hatred. those whom he had injured, amongst others, were san pietro ad vincula, colonna, san giorgio, and ascanio.(*) the rest, in becoming pope, had to fear him, rouen and the spaniards excepted; the latter from their relationship and obligations, the former from his influence, the kingdom of france having relations with him. therefore, above everything, the duke ought to have created a spaniard pope, and, failing him, he ought to have consented to rouen and not san pietro ad vincula. he who believes that new benefits will cause great personages to forget old injuries is deceived. therefore, the duke erred in his choice, and it was the cause of his ultimate ruin. (*) san giorgio is raffaello riario. ascanio is ascanio sforza. chapter viii -- concerning those who have obtained a principality by wickedness although a prince may rise from a private station in two ways, neither of which can be entirely attributed to fortune or genius, yet it is manifest to me that i must not be silent on them, although one could be more copiously treated when i discuss republics. these methods are when, either by some wicked or nefarious ways, one ascends to the principality, or when by the favour of his fellow-citizens a private person becomes the prince of his country. and speaking of the first method, it will be illustrated by two examples--one ancient, the other modern--and without entering further into the subject, i consider these two examples will suffice those who may be compelled to follow them. agathocles, the sicilian,(*) became king of syracuse not only from a private but from a low and abject position. this man, the son of a potter, through all the changes in his fortunes always led an infamous life. nevertheless, he accompanied his infamies with so much ability of mind and body that, having devoted himself to the military profession, he rose through its ranks to be praetor of syracuse. being established in that position, and having deliberately resolved to make himself prince and to seize by violence, without obligation to others, that which had been conceded to him by assent, he came to an understanding for this purpose with amilcar, the carthaginian, who, with his army, was fighting in sicily. one morning he assembled the people and the senate of syracuse, as if he had to discuss with them things relating to the republic, and at a given signal the soldiers killed all the senators and the richest of the people; these dead, he seized and held the princedom of that city without any civil commotion. and although he was twice routed by the carthaginians, and ultimately besieged, yet not only was he able to defend his city, but leaving part of his men for its defence, with the others he attacked africa, and in a short time raised the siege of syracuse. the carthaginians, reduced to extreme necessity, were compelled to come to terms with agathocles, and, leaving sicily to him, had to be content with the possession of africa. (*) agathocles the sicilian, born b.c., died b.c. therefore, he who considers the actions and the genius of this man will see nothing, or little, which can be attributed to fortune, inasmuch as he attained pre-eminence, as is shown above, not by the favour of any one, but step by step in the military profession, which steps were gained with a thousand troubles and perils, and were afterwards boldly held by him with many hazardous dangers. yet it cannot be called talent to slay fellow-citizens, to deceive friends, to be without faith, without mercy, without religion; such methods may gain empire, but not glory. still, if the courage of agathocles in entering into and extricating himself from dangers be considered, together with his greatness of mind in enduring and overcoming hardships, it cannot be seen why he should be esteemed less than the most notable captain. nevertheless, his barbarous cruelty and inhumanity with infinite wickedness do not permit him to be celebrated among the most excellent men. what he achieved cannot be attributed either to fortune or genius. in our times, during the rule of alexander the sixth, oliverotto da fermo, having been left an orphan many years before, was brought up by his maternal uncle, giovanni fogliani, and in the early days of his youth sent to fight under pagolo vitelli, that, being trained under his discipline, he might attain some high position in the military profession. after pagolo died, he fought under his brother vitellozzo, and in a very short time, being endowed with wit and a vigorous body and mind, he became the first man in his profession. but it appearing a paltry thing to serve under others, he resolved, with the aid of some citizens of fermo, to whom the slavery of their country was dearer than its liberty, and with the help of the vitelleschi, to seize fermo. so he wrote to giovanni fogliani that, having been away from home for many years, he wished to visit him and his city, and in some measure to look upon his patrimony; and although he had not laboured to acquire anything except honour, yet, in order that the citizens should see he had not spent his time in vain, he desired to come honourably, so would be accompanied by one hundred horsemen, his friends and retainers; and he entreated giovanni to arrange that he should be received honourably by the fermians, all of which would be not only to his honour, but also to that of giovanni himself, who had brought him up. giovanni, therefore, did not fail in any attentions due to his nephew, and he caused him to be honourably received by the fermians, and he lodged him in his own house, where, having passed some days, and having arranged what was necessary for his wicked designs, oliverotto gave a solemn banquet to which he invited giovanni fogliani and the chiefs of fermo. when the viands and all the other entertainments that are usual in such banquets were finished, oliverotto artfully began certain grave discourses, speaking of the greatness of pope alexander and his son cesare, and of their enterprises, to which discourse giovanni and others answered; but he rose at once, saying that such matters ought to be discussed in a more private place, and he betook himself to a chamber, whither giovanni and the rest of the citizens went in after him. no sooner were they seated than soldiers issued from secret places and slaughtered giovanni and the rest. after these murders oliverotto, mounted on horseback, rode up and down the town and besieged the chief magistrate in the palace, so that in fear the people were forced to obey him, and to form a government, of which he made himself the prince. he killed all the malcontents who were able to injure him, and strengthened himself with new civil and military ordinances, in such a way that, in the year during which he held the principality, not only was he secure in the city of fermo, but he had become formidable to all his neighbours. and his destruction would have been as difficult as that of agathocles if he had not allowed himself to be overreached by cesare borgia, who took him with the orsini and vitelli at sinigalia, as was stated above. thus one year after he had committed this parricide, he was strangled, together with vitellozzo, whom he had made his leader in valour and wickedness. some may wonder how it can happen that agathocles, and his like, after infinite treacheries and cruelties, should live for long secure in his country, and defend himself from external enemies, and never be conspired against by his own citizens; seeing that many others, by means of cruelty, have never been able even in peaceful times to hold the state, still less in the doubtful times of war. i believe that this follows from severities(*) being badly or properly used. those may be called properly used, if of evil it is possible to speak well, that are applied at one blow and are necessary to one's security, and that are not persisted in afterwards unless they can be turned to the advantage of the subjects. the badly employed are those which, notwithstanding they may be few in the commencement, multiply with time rather than decrease. those who practise the first system are able, by aid of god or man, to mitigate in some degree their rule, as agathocles did. it is impossible for those who follow the other to maintain themselves. (*) mr burd suggests that this word probably comes near the modern equivalent of machiavelli's thought when he speaks of "crudelta" than the more obvious "cruelties." hence it is to be remarked that, in seizing a state, the usurper ought to examine closely into all those injuries which it is necessary for him to inflict, and to do them all at one stroke so as not to have to repeat them daily; and thus by not unsettling men he will be able to reassure them, and win them to himself by benefits. he who does otherwise, either from timidity or evil advice, is always compelled to keep the knife in his hand; neither can he rely on his subjects, nor can they attach themselves to him, owing to their continued and repeated wrongs. for injuries ought to be done all at one time, so that, being tasted less, they offend less; benefits ought to be given little by little, so that the flavour of them may last longer. and above all things, a prince ought to live amongst his people in such a way that no unexpected circumstances, whether of good or evil, shall make him change; because if the necessity for this comes in troubled times, you are too late for harsh measures; and mild ones will not help you, for they will be considered as forced from you, and no one will be under any obligation to you for them. chapter ix -- concerning a civil principality but coming to the other point--where a leading citizen becomes the prince of his country, not by wickedness or any intolerable violence, but by the favour of his fellow citizens--this may be called a civil principality: nor is genius or fortune altogether necessary to attain to it, but rather a happy shrewdness. i say then that such a principality is obtained either by the favour of the people or by the favour of the nobles. because in all cities these two distinct parties are found, and from this it arises that the people do not wish to be ruled nor oppressed by the nobles, and the nobles wish to rule and oppress the people; and from these two opposite desires there arises in cities one of three results, either a principality, self-government, or anarchy. a principality is created either by the people or by the nobles, accordingly as one or other of them has the opportunity; for the nobles, seeing they cannot withstand the people, begin to cry up the reputation of one of themselves, and they make him a prince, so that under his shadow they can give vent to their ambitions. the people, finding they cannot resist the nobles, also cry up the reputation of one of themselves, and make him a prince so as to be defended by his authority. he who obtains sovereignty by the assistance of the nobles maintains himself with more difficulty than he who comes to it by the aid of the people, because the former finds himself with many around him who consider themselves his equals, and because of this he can neither rule nor manage them to his liking. but he who reaches sovereignty by popular favour finds himself alone, and has none around him, or few, who are not prepared to obey him. besides this, one cannot by fair dealing, and without injury to others, satisfy the nobles, but you can satisfy the people, for their object is more righteous than that of the nobles, the latter wishing to oppress, while the former only desire not to be oppressed. it is to be added also that a prince can never secure himself against a hostile people, because of there being too many, whilst from the nobles he can secure himself, as they are few in number. the worst that a prince may expect from a hostile people is to be abandoned by them; but from hostile nobles he has not only to fear abandonment, but also that they will rise against him; for they, being in these affairs more far-seeing and astute, always come forward in time to save themselves, and to obtain favours from him whom they expect to prevail. further, the prince is compelled to live always with the same people, but he can do well without the same nobles, being able to make and unmake them daily, and to give or take away authority when it pleases him. therefore, to make this point clearer, i say that the nobles ought to be looked at mainly in two ways: that is to say, they either shape their course in such a way as binds them entirely to your fortune, or they do not. those who so bind themselves, and are not rapacious, ought to be honoured and loved; those who do not bind themselves may be dealt with in two ways; they may fail to do this through pusillanimity and a natural want of courage, in which case you ought to make use of them, especially of those who are of good counsel; and thus, whilst in prosperity you honour them, in adversity you do not have to fear them. but when for their own ambitious ends they shun binding themselves, it is a token that they are giving more thought to themselves than to you, and a prince ought to guard against such, and to fear them as if they were open enemies, because in adversity they always help to ruin him. therefore, one who becomes a prince through the favour of the people ought to keep them friendly, and this he can easily do seeing they only ask not to be oppressed by him. but one who, in opposition to the people, becomes a prince by the favour of the nobles, ought, above everything, to seek to win the people over to himself, and this he may easily do if he takes them under his protection. because men, when they receive good from him of whom they were expecting evil, are bound more closely to their benefactor; thus the people quickly become more devoted to him than if he had been raised to the principality by their favours; and the prince can win their affections in many ways, but as these vary according to the circumstances one cannot give fixed rules, so i omit them; but, i repeat, it is necessary for a prince to have the people friendly, otherwise he has no security in adversity. nabis,(*) prince of the spartans, sustained the attack of all greece, and of a victorious roman army, and against them he defended his country and his government; and for the overcoming of this peril it was only necessary for him to make himself secure against a few, but this would not have been sufficient had the people been hostile. and do not let any one impugn this statement with the trite proverb that "he who builds on the people, builds on the mud," for this is true when a private citizen makes a foundation there, and persuades himself that the people will free him when he is oppressed by his enemies or by the magistrates; wherein he would find himself very often deceived, as happened to the gracchi in rome and to messer giorgio scali(+) in florence. but granted a prince who has established himself as above, who can command, and is a man of courage, undismayed in adversity, who does not fail in other qualifications, and who, by his resolution and energy, keeps the whole people encouraged--such a one will never find himself deceived in them, and it will be shown that he has laid his foundations well. (*) nabis, tyrant of sparta, conquered by the romans under flamininus in b.c.; killed b.c. (+) messer giorgio scali. this event is to be found in machiavelli's "florentine history," book iii. these principalities are liable to danger when they are passing from the civil to the absolute order of government, for such princes either rule personally or through magistrates. in the latter case their government is weaker and more insecure, because it rests entirely on the goodwill of those citizens who are raised to the magistracy, and who, especially in troubled times, can destroy the government with great ease, either by intrigue or open defiance; and the prince has not the chance amid tumults to exercise absolute authority, because the citizens and subjects, accustomed to receive orders from magistrates, are not of a mind to obey him amid these confusions, and there will always be in doubtful times a scarcity of men whom he can trust. for such a prince cannot rely upon what he observes in quiet times, when citizens have need of the state, because then every one agrees with him; they all promise, and when death is far distant they all wish to die for him; but in troubled times, when the state has need of its citizens, then he finds but few. and so much the more is this experiment dangerous, inasmuch as it can only be tried once. therefore a wise prince ought to adopt such a course that his citizens will always in every sort and kind of circumstance have need of the state and of him, and then he will always find them faithful. chapter x -- concerning the way in which the strength of all principalities ought to be measured it is necessary to consider another point in examining the character of these principalities: that is, whether a prince has such power that, in case of need, he can support himself with his own resources, or whether he has always need of the assistance of others. and to make this quite clear i say that i consider those who are able to support themselves by their own resources who can, either by abundance of men or money, raise a sufficient army to join battle against any one who comes to attack them; and i consider those always to have need of others who cannot show themselves against the enemy in the field, but are forced to defend themselves by sheltering behind walls. the first case has been discussed, but we will speak of it again should it recur. in the second case one can say nothing except to encourage such princes to provision and fortify their towns, and not on any account to defend the country. and whoever shall fortify his town well, and shall have managed the other concerns of his subjects in the way stated above, and to be often repeated, will never be attacked without great caution, for men are always adverse to enterprises where difficulties can be seen, and it will be seen not to be an easy thing to attack one who has his town well fortified, and is not hated by his people. the cities of germany are absolutely free, they own but little country around them, and they yield obedience to the emperor when it suits them, nor do they fear this or any other power they may have near them, because they are fortified in such a way that every one thinks the taking of them by assault would be tedious and difficult, seeing they have proper ditches and walls, they have sufficient artillery, and they always keep in public depots enough for one year's eating, drinking, and firing. and beyond this, to keep the people quiet and without loss to the state, they always have the means of giving work to the community in those labours that are the life and strength of the city, and on the pursuit of which the people are supported; they also hold military exercises in repute, and moreover have many ordinances to uphold them. therefore, a prince who has a strong city, and had not made himself odious, will not be attacked, or if any one should attack he will only be driven off with disgrace; again, because that the affairs of this world are so changeable, it is almost impossible to keep an army a whole year in the field without being interfered with. and whoever should reply: if the people have property outside the city, and see it burnt, they will not remain patient, and the long siege and self-interest will make them forget their prince; to this i answer that a powerful and courageous prince will overcome all such difficulties by giving at one time hope to his subjects that the evil will not be for long, at another time fear of the cruelty of the enemy, then preserving himself adroitly from those subjects who seem to him to be too bold. further, the enemy would naturally on his arrival at once burn and ruin the country at the time when the spirits of the people are still hot and ready for the defence; and, therefore, so much the less ought the prince to hesitate; because after a time, when spirits have cooled, the damage is already done, the ills are incurred, and there is no longer any remedy; and therefore they are so much the more ready to unite with their prince, he appearing to be under obligations to them now that their houses have been burnt and their possessions ruined in his defence. for it is the nature of men to be bound by the benefits they confer as much as by those they receive. therefore, if everything is well considered, it will not be difficult for a wise prince to keep the minds of his citizens steadfast from first to last, when he does not fail to support and defend them. chapter xi -- concerning ecclesiastical principalities it only remains now to speak of ecclesiastical principalities, touching which all difficulties are prior to getting possession, because they are acquired either by capacity or good fortune, and they can be held without either; for they are sustained by the ancient ordinances of religion, which are so all-powerful, and of such a character that the principalities may be held no matter how their princes behave and live. these princes alone have states and do not defend them; and they have subjects and do not rule them; and the states, although unguarded, are not taken from them, and the subjects, although not ruled, do not care, and they have neither the desire nor the ability to alienate themselves. such principalities only are secure and happy. but being upheld by powers, to which the human mind cannot reach, i shall speak no more of them, because, being exalted and maintained by god, it would be the act of a presumptuous and rash man to discuss them. nevertheless, if any one should ask of me how comes it that the church has attained such greatness in temporal power, seeing that from alexander backwards the italian potentates (not only those who have been called potentates, but every baron and lord, though the smallest) have valued the temporal power very slightly--yet now a king of france trembles before it, and it has been able to drive him from italy, and to ruin the venetians--although this may be very manifest, it does not appear to me superfluous to recall it in some measure to memory. before charles, king of france, passed into italy,(*) this country was under the dominion of the pope, the venetians, the king of naples, the duke of milan, and the florentines. these potentates had two principal anxieties: the one, that no foreigner should enter italy under arms; the other, that none of themselves should seize more territory. those about whom there was the most anxiety were the pope and the venetians. to restrain the venetians the union of all the others was necessary, as it was for the defence of ferrara; and to keep down the pope they made use of the barons of rome, who, being divided into two factions, orsini and colonnesi, had always a pretext for disorder, and, standing with arms in their hands under the eyes of the pontiff, kept the pontificate weak and powerless. and although there might arise sometimes a courageous pope, such as sixtus, yet neither fortune nor wisdom could rid him of these annoyances. and the short life of a pope is also a cause of weakness; for in the ten years, which is the average life of a pope, he can with difficulty lower one of the factions; and if, so to speak, one people should almost destroy the colonnesi, another would arise hostile to the orsini, who would support their opponents, and yet would not have time to ruin the orsini. this was the reason why the temporal powers of the pope were little esteemed in italy. (*) charles viii invaded italy in . alexander the sixth arose afterwards, who of all the pontiffs that have ever been showed how a pope with both money and arms was able to prevail; and through the instrumentality of the duke valentino, and by reason of the entry of the french, he brought about all those things which i have discussed above in the actions of the duke. and although his intention was not to aggrandize the church, but the duke, nevertheless, what he did contributed to the greatness of the church, which, after his death and the ruin of the duke, became the heir to all his labours. pope julius came afterwards and found the church strong, possessing all the romagna, the barons of rome reduced to impotence, and, through the chastisements of alexander, the factions wiped out; he also found the way open to accumulate money in a manner such as had never been practised before alexander's time. such things julius not only followed, but improved upon, and he intended to gain bologna, to ruin the venetians, and to drive the french out of italy. all of these enterprises prospered with him, and so much the more to his credit, inasmuch as he did everything to strengthen the church and not any private person. he kept also the orsini and colonnesi factions within the bounds in which he found them; and although there was among them some mind to make disturbance, nevertheless he held two things firm: the one, the greatness of the church, with which he terrified them; and the other, not allowing them to have their own cardinals, who caused the disorders among them. for whenever these factions have their cardinals they do not remain quiet for long, because cardinals foster the factions in rome and out of it, and the barons are compelled to support them, and thus from the ambitions of prelates arise disorders and tumults among the barons. for these reasons his holiness pope leo(*) found the pontificate most powerful, and it is to be hoped that, if others made it great in arms, he will make it still greater and more venerated by his goodness and infinite other virtues. (*) pope leo x was the cardinal de' medici. chapter xii -- how many kinds of soldiery there are, and concerning mercenaries having discoursed particularly on the characteristics of such principalities as in the beginning i proposed to discuss, and having considered in some degree the causes of there being good or bad, and having shown the methods by which many have sought to acquire them and to hold them, it now remains for me to discuss generally the means of offence and defence which belong to each of them. we have seen above how necessary it is for a prince to have his foundations well laid, otherwise it follows of necessity he will go to ruin. the chief foundations of all states, new as well as old or composite, are good laws and good arms; and as there cannot be good laws where the state is not well armed, it follows that where they are well armed they have good laws. i shall leave the laws out of the discussion and shall speak of the arms. i say, therefore, that the arms with which a prince defends his state are either his own, or they are mercenaries, auxiliaries, or mixed. mercenaries and auxiliaries are useless and dangerous; and if one holds his state based on these arms, he will stand neither firm nor safe; for they are disunited, ambitious, and without discipline, unfaithful, valiant before friends, cowardly before enemies; they have neither the fear of god nor fidelity to men, and destruction is deferred only so long as the attack is; for in peace one is robbed by them, and in war by the enemy. the fact is, they have no other attraction or reason for keeping the field than a trifle of stipend, which is not sufficient to make them willing to die for you. they are ready enough to be your soldiers whilst you do not make war, but if war comes they take themselves off or run from the foe; which i should have little trouble to prove, for the ruin of italy has been caused by nothing else than by resting all her hopes for many years on mercenaries, and although they formerly made some display and appeared valiant amongst themselves, yet when the foreigners came they showed what they were. thus it was that charles, king of france, was allowed to seize italy with chalk in hand;(*) and he who told us that our sins were the cause of it told the truth, but they were not the sins he imagined, but those which i have related. and as they were the sins of princes, it is the princes who have also suffered the penalty. (*) "with chalk in hand," "col gesso." this is one of the _bons mots_ of alexander vi, and refers to the ease with which charles viii seized italy, implying that it was only necessary for him to send his quartermasters to chalk up the billets for his soldiers to conquer the country. cf. "the history of henry vii," by lord bacon: "king charles had conquered the realm of naples, and lost it again, in a kind of a felicity of a dream. he passed the whole length of italy without resistance: so that it was true what pope alexander was wont to say: that the frenchmen came into italy with chalk in their hands, to mark up their lodgings, rather than with swords to fight." i wish to demonstrate further the infelicity of these arms. the mercenary captains are either capable men or they are not; if they are, you cannot trust them, because they always aspire to their own greatness, either by oppressing you, who are their master, or others contrary to your intentions; but if the captain is not skilful, you are ruined in the usual way. and if it be urged that whoever is armed will act in the same way, whether mercenary or not, i reply that when arms have to be resorted to, either by a prince or a republic, then the prince ought to go in person and perform the duty of a captain; the republic has to send its citizens, and when one is sent who does not turn out satisfactorily, it ought to recall him, and when one is worthy, to hold him by the laws so that he does not leave the command. and experience has shown princes and republics, single-handed, making the greatest progress, and mercenaries doing nothing except damage; and it is more difficult to bring a republic, armed with its own arms, under the sway of one of its citizens than it is to bring one armed with foreign arms. rome and sparta stood for many ages armed and free. the switzers are completely armed and quite free. of ancient mercenaries, for example, there are the carthaginians, who were oppressed by their mercenary soldiers after the first war with the romans, although the carthaginians had their own citizens for captains. after the death of epaminondas, philip of macedon was made captain of their soldiers by the thebans, and after victory he took away their liberty. duke filippo being dead, the milanese enlisted francesco sforza against the venetians, and he, having overcome the enemy at caravaggio,(*) allied himself with them to crush the milanese, his masters. his father, sforza, having been engaged by queen johanna(+) of naples, left her unprotected, so that she was forced to throw herself into the arms of the king of aragon, in order to save her kingdom. and if the venetians and florentines formerly extended their dominions by these arms, and yet their captains did not make themselves princes, but have defended them, i reply that the florentines in this case have been favoured by chance, for of the able captains, of whom they might have stood in fear, some have not conquered, some have been opposed, and others have turned their ambitions elsewhere. one who did not conquer was giovanni acuto,(%) and since he did not conquer his fidelity cannot be proved; but every one will acknowledge that, had he conquered, the florentines would have stood at his discretion. sforza had the bracceschi always against him, so they watched each other. francesco turned his ambition to lombardy; braccio against the church and the kingdom of naples. but let us come to that which happened a short while ago. the florentines appointed as their captain pagolo vitelli, a most prudent man, who from a private position had risen to the greatest renown. if this man had taken pisa, nobody can deny that it would have been proper for the florentines to keep in with him, for if he became the soldier of their enemies they had no means of resisting, and if they held to him they must obey him. the venetians, if their achievements are considered, will be seen to have acted safely and gloriously so long as they sent to war their own men, when with armed gentlemen and plebians they did valiantly. this was before they turned to enterprises on land, but when they began to fight on land they forsook this virtue and followed the custom of italy. and in the beginning of their expansion on land, through not having much territory, and because of their great reputation, they had not much to fear from their captains; but when they expanded, as under carmignuola,(#) they had a taste of this mistake; for, having found him a most valiant man (they beat the duke of milan under his leadership), and, on the other hand, knowing how lukewarm he was in the war, they feared they would no longer conquer under him, and for this reason they were not willing, nor were they able, to let him go; and so, not to lose again that which they had acquired, they were compelled, in order to secure themselves, to murder him. they had afterwards for their captains bartolomeo da bergamo, roberto da san severino, the count of pitigliano,(&) and the like, under whom they had to dread loss and not gain, as happened afterwards at vaila,($) where in one battle they lost that which in eight hundred years they had acquired with so much trouble. because from such arms conquests come but slowly, long delayed and inconsiderable, but the losses sudden and portentous. (*) battle of caravaggio, th september . (+) johanna ii of naples, the widow of ladislao, king of naples. (%) giovanni acuto. an english knight whose name was sir john hawkwood. he fought in the english wars in france, and was knighted by edward iii; afterwards he collected a body of troops and went into italy. these became the famous "white company." he took part in many wars, and died in florence in . he was born about at sible hedingham, a village in essex. he married domnia, a daughter of bernabo visconti. (#) carmignuola. francesco bussone, born at carmagnola about , executed at venice, th may . (&) bartolomeo colleoni of bergamo; died . roberto of san severino; died fighting for venice against sigismund, duke of austria, in . "primo capitano in italia."-- machiavelli. count of pitigliano; nicolo orsini, born , died . ($) battle of vaila in . and as with these examples i have reached italy, which has been ruled for many years by mercenaries, i wish to discuss them more seriously, in order that, having seen their rise and progress, one may be better prepared to counteract them. you must understand that the empire has recently come to be repudiated in italy, that the pope has acquired more temporal power, and that italy has been divided up into more states, for the reason that many of the great cities took up arms against their nobles, who, formerly favoured by the emperor, were oppressing them, whilst the church was favouring them so as to gain authority in temporal power: in many others their citizens became princes. from this it came to pass that italy fell partly into the hands of the church and of republics, and, the church consisting of priests and the republic of citizens unaccustomed to arms, both commenced to enlist foreigners. the first who gave renown to this soldiery was alberigo da conio,(*) the romagnian. from the school of this man sprang, among others, braccio and sforza, who in their time were the arbiters of italy. after these came all the other captains who till now have directed the arms of italy; and the end of all their valour has been, that she has been overrun by charles, robbed by louis, ravaged by ferdinand, and insulted by the switzers. the principle that has guided them has been, first, to lower the credit of infantry so that they might increase their own. they did this because, subsisting on their pay and without territory, they were unable to support many soldiers, and a few infantry did not give them any authority; so they were led to employ cavalry, with a moderate force of which they were maintained and honoured; and affairs were brought to such a pass that, in an army of twenty thousand soldiers, there were not to be found two thousand foot soldiers. they had, besides this, used every art to lessen fatigue and danger to themselves and their soldiers, not killing in the fray, but taking prisoners and liberating without ransom. they did not attack towns at night, nor did the garrisons of the towns attack encampments at night; they did not surround the camp either with stockade or ditch, nor did they campaign in the winter. all these things were permitted by their military rules, and devised by them to avoid, as i have said, both fatigue and dangers; thus they have brought italy to slavery and contempt. (*) alberigo da conio. alberico da barbiano, count of cunio in romagna. he was the leader of the famous "company of st george," composed entirely of italian soldiers. he died in . chapter xiii -- concerning auxiliaries, mixed soldiery, and one's own auxiliaries, which are the other useless arm, are employed when a prince is called in with his forces to aid and defend, as was done by pope julius in the most recent times; for he, having, in the enterprise against ferrara, had poor proof of his mercenaries, turned to auxiliaries, and stipulated with ferdinand, king of spain,(*) for his assistance with men and arms. these arms may be useful and good in themselves, but for him who calls them in they are always disadvantageous; for losing, one is undone, and winning, one is their captive. (*) ferdinand v (f. ii of aragon and sicily, f. iii of naples), surnamed "the catholic," born , died . and although ancient histories may be full of examples, i do not wish to leave this recent one of pope julius the second, the peril of which cannot fail to be perceived; for he, wishing to get ferrara, threw himself entirely into the hands of the foreigner. but his good fortune brought about a third event, so that he did not reap the fruit of his rash choice; because, having his auxiliaries routed at ravenna, and the switzers having risen and driven out the conquerors (against all expectation, both his and others), it so came to pass that he did not become prisoner to his enemies, they having fled, nor to his auxiliaries, he having conquered by other arms than theirs. the florentines, being entirely without arms, sent ten thousand frenchmen to take pisa, whereby they ran more danger than at any other time of their troubles. the emperor of constantinople,(*) to oppose his neighbours, sent ten thousand turks into greece, who, on the war being finished, were not willing to quit; this was the beginning of the servitude of greece to the infidels. (*) joannes cantacuzenus, born , died . therefore, let him who has no desire to conquer make use of these arms, for they are much more hazardous than mercenaries, because with them the ruin is ready made; they are all united, all yield obedience to others; but with mercenaries, when they have conquered, more time and better opportunities are needed to injure you; they are not all of one community, they are found and paid by you, and a third party, which you have made their head, is not able all at once to assume enough authority to injure you. in conclusion, in mercenaries dastardy is most dangerous; in auxiliaries, valour. the wise prince, therefore, has always avoided these arms and turned to his own; and has been willing rather to lose with them than to conquer with the others, not deeming that a real victory which is gained with the arms of others. i shall never hesitate to cite cesare borgia and his actions. this duke entered the romagna with auxiliaries, taking there only french soldiers, and with them he captured imola and forli; but afterwards, such forces not appearing to him reliable, he turned to mercenaries, discerning less danger in them, and enlisted the orsini and vitelli; whom presently, on handling and finding them doubtful, unfaithful, and dangerous, he destroyed and turned to his own men. and the difference between one and the other of these forces can easily be seen when one considers the difference there was in the reputation of the duke, when he had the french, when he had the orsini and vitelli, and when he relied on his own soldiers, on whose fidelity he could always count and found it ever increasing; he was never esteemed more highly than when every one saw that he was complete master of his own forces. i was not intending to go beyond italian and recent examples, but i am unwilling to leave out hiero, the syracusan, he being one of those i have named above. this man, as i have said, made head of the army by the syracusans, soon found out that a mercenary soldiery, constituted like our italian condottieri, was of no use; and it appearing to him that he could neither keep them not let them go, he had them all cut to pieces, and afterwards made war with his own forces and not with aliens. i wish also to recall to memory an instance from the old testament applicable to this subject. david offered himself to saul to fight with goliath, the philistine champion, and, to give him courage, saul armed him with his own weapons; which david rejected as soon as he had them on his back, saying he could make no use of them, and that he wished to meet the enemy with his sling and his knife. in conclusion, the arms of others either fall from your back, or they weigh you down, or they bind you fast. charles the seventh,(*) the father of king louis the eleventh,(+) having by good fortune and valour liberated france from the english, recognized the necessity of being armed with forces of his own, and he established in his kingdom ordinances concerning men-at-arms and infantry. afterwards his son, king louis, abolished the infantry and began to enlist the switzers, which mistake, followed by others, is, as is now seen, a source of peril to that kingdom; because, having raised the reputation of the switzers, he has entirely diminished the value of his own arms, for he has destroyed the infantry altogether; and his men-at-arms he has subordinated to others, for, being as they are so accustomed to fight along with switzers, it does not appear that they can now conquer without them. hence it arises that the french cannot stand against the switzers, and without the switzers they do not come off well against others. the armies of the french have thus become mixed, partly mercenary and partly national, both of which arms together are much better than mercenaries alone or auxiliaries alone, but much inferior to one's own forces. and this example proves it, for the kingdom of france would be unconquerable if the ordinance of charles had been enlarged or maintained. (*) charles vii of france, surnamed "the victorious," born , died . (+) louis xi, son of the above, born , died . but the scanty wisdom of man, on entering into an affair which looks well at first, cannot discern the poison that is hidden in it, as i have said above of hectic fevers. therefore, if he who rules a principality cannot recognize evils until they are upon him, he is not truly wise; and this insight is given to few. and if the first disaster to the roman empire(*) should be examined, it will be found to have commenced only with the enlisting of the goths; because from that time the vigour of the roman empire began to decline, and all that valour which had raised it passed away to others. (*) "many speakers to the house the other night in the debate on the reduction of armaments seemed to show a most lamentable ignorance of the conditions under which the british empire maintains its existence. when mr balfour replied to the allegations that the roman empire sank under the weight of its military obligations, he said that this was 'wholly unhistorical.' he might well have added that the roman power was at its zenith when every citizen acknowledged his liability to fight for the state, but that it began to decline as soon as this obligation was no longer recognized."--pall mall gazette, th may . i conclude, therefore, that no principality is secure without having its own forces; on the contrary, it is entirely dependent on good fortune, not having the valour which in adversity would defend it. and it has always been the opinion and judgment of wise men that nothing can be so uncertain or unstable as fame or power not founded on its own strength. and one's own forces are those which are composed either of subjects, citizens, or dependents; all others are mercenaries or auxiliaries. and the way to make ready one's own forces will be easily found if the rules suggested by me shall be reflected upon, and if one will consider how philip, the father of alexander the great, and many republics and princes have armed and organized themselves, to which rules i entirely commit myself. chapter xiv -- that which concerns a prince on the subject of the art of war a prince ought to have no other aim or thought, nor select anything else for his study, than war and its rules and discipline; for this is the sole art that belongs to him who rules, and it is of such force that it not only upholds those who are born princes, but it often enables men to rise from a private station to that rank. and, on the contrary, it is seen that when princes have thought more of ease than of arms they have lost their states. and the first cause of your losing it is to neglect this art; and what enables you to acquire a state is to be master of the art. francesco sforza, through being martial, from a private person became duke of milan; and the sons, through avoiding the hardships and troubles of arms, from dukes became private persons. for among other evils which being unarmed brings you, it causes you to be despised, and this is one of those ignominies against which a prince ought to guard himself, as is shown later on. because there is nothing proportionate between the armed and the unarmed; and it is not reasonable that he who is armed should yield obedience willingly to him who is unarmed, or that the unarmed man should be secure among armed servants. because, there being in the one disdain and in the other suspicion, it is not possible for them to work well together. and therefore a prince who does not understand the art of war, over and above the other misfortunes already mentioned, cannot be respected by his soldiers, nor can he rely on them. he ought never, therefore, to have out of his thoughts this subject of war, and in peace he should addict himself more to its exercise than in war; this he can do in two ways, the one by action, the other by study. as regards action, he ought above all things to keep his men well organized and drilled, to follow incessantly the chase, by which he accustoms his body to hardships, and learns something of the nature of localities, and gets to find out how the mountains rise, how the valleys open out, how the plains lie, and to understand the nature of rivers and marshes, and in all this to take the greatest care. which knowledge is useful in two ways. firstly, he learns to know his country, and is better able to undertake its defence; afterwards, by means of the knowledge and observation of that locality, he understands with ease any other which it may be necessary for him to study hereafter; because the hills, valleys, and plains, and rivers and marshes that are, for instance, in tuscany, have a certain resemblance to those of other countries, so that with a knowledge of the aspect of one country one can easily arrive at a knowledge of others. and the prince that lacks this skill lacks the essential which it is desirable that a captain should possess, for it teaches him to surprise his enemy, to select quarters, to lead armies, to array the battle, to besiege towns to advantage. philopoemen,(*) prince of the achaeans, among other praises which writers have bestowed on him, is commended because in time of peace he never had anything in his mind but the rules of war; and when he was in the country with friends, he often stopped and reasoned with them: "if the enemy should be upon that hill, and we should find ourselves here with our army, with whom would be the advantage? how should one best advance to meet him, keeping the ranks? if we should wish to retreat, how ought we to pursue?" and he would set forth to them, as he went, all the chances that could befall an army; he would listen to their opinion and state his, confirming it with reasons, so that by these continual discussions there could never arise, in time of war, any unexpected circumstances that he could not deal with. (*) philopoemen, "the last of the greeks," born b.c., died b.c. but to exercise the intellect the prince should read histories, and study there the actions of illustrious men, to see how they have borne themselves in war, to examine the causes of their victories and defeat, so as to avoid the latter and imitate the former; and above all do as an illustrious man did, who took as an exemplar one who had been praised and famous before him, and whose achievements and deeds he always kept in his mind, as it is said alexander the great imitated achilles, caesar alexander, scipio cyrus. and whoever reads the life of cyrus, written by xenophon, will recognize afterwards in the life of scipio how that imitation was his glory, and how in chastity, affability, humanity, and liberality scipio conformed to those things which have been written of cyrus by xenophon. a wise prince ought to observe some such rules, and never in peaceful times stand idle, but increase his resources with industry in such a way that they may be available to him in adversity, so that if fortune chances it may find him prepared to resist her blows. chapter xv -- concerning things for which men, and especially princes, are praised or blamed it remains now to see what ought to be the rules of conduct for a prince towards subject and friends. and as i know that many have written on this point, i expect i shall be considered presumptuous in mentioning it again, especially as in discussing it i shall depart from the methods of other people. but, it being my intention to write a thing which shall be useful to him who apprehends it, it appears to me more appropriate to follow up the real truth of the matter than the imagination of it; for many have pictured republics and principalities which in fact have never been known or seen, because how one lives is so far distant from how one ought to live, that he who neglects what is done for what ought to be done, sooner effects his ruin than his preservation; for a man who wishes to act entirely up to his professions of virtue soon meets with what destroys him among so much that is evil. hence it is necessary for a prince wishing to hold his own to know how to do wrong, and to make use of it or not according to necessity. therefore, putting on one side imaginary things concerning a prince, and discussing those which are real, i say that all men when they are spoken of, and chiefly princes for being more highly placed, are remarkable for some of those qualities which bring them either blame or praise; and thus it is that one is reputed liberal, another miserly, using a tuscan term (because an avaricious person in our language is still he who desires to possess by robbery, whilst we call one miserly who deprives himself too much of the use of his own); one is reputed generous, one rapacious; one cruel, one compassionate; one faithless, another faithful; one effeminate and cowardly, another bold and brave; one affable, another haughty; one lascivious, another chaste; one sincere, another cunning; one hard, another easy; one grave, another frivolous; one religious, another unbelieving, and the like. and i know that every one will confess that it would be most praiseworthy in a prince to exhibit all the above qualities that are considered good; but because they can neither be entirely possessed nor observed, for human conditions do not permit it, it is necessary for him to be sufficiently prudent that he may know how to avoid the reproach of those vices which would lose him his state; and also to keep himself, if it be possible, from those which would not lose him it; but this not being possible, he may with less hesitation abandon himself to them. and again, he need not make himself uneasy at incurring a reproach for those vices without which the state can only be saved with difficulty, for if everything is considered carefully, it will be found that something which looks like virtue, if followed, would be his ruin; whilst something else, which looks like vice, yet followed brings him security and prosperity. chapter xvi -- concerning liberality and meanness commencing then with the first of the above-named characteristics, i say that it would be well to be reputed liberal. nevertheless, liberality exercised in a way that does not bring you the reputation for it, injures you; for if one exercises it honestly and as it should be exercised, it may not become known, and you will not avoid the reproach of its opposite. therefore, any one wishing to maintain among men the name of liberal is obliged to avoid no attribute of magnificence; so that a prince thus inclined will consume in such acts all his property, and will be compelled in the end, if he wish to maintain the name of liberal, to unduly weigh down his people, and tax them, and do everything he can to get money. this will soon make him odious to his subjects, and becoming poor he will be little valued by any one; thus, with his liberality, having offended many and rewarded few, he is affected by the very first trouble and imperilled by whatever may be the first danger; recognizing this himself, and wishing to draw back from it, he runs at once into the reproach of being miserly. therefore, a prince, not being able to exercise this virtue of liberality in such a way that it is recognized, except to his cost, if he is wise he ought not to fear the reputation of being mean, for in time he will come to be more considered than if liberal, seeing that with his economy his revenues are enough, that he can defend himself against all attacks, and is able to engage in enterprises without burdening his people; thus it comes to pass that he exercises liberality towards all from whom he does not take, who are numberless, and meanness towards those to whom he does not give, who are few. we have not seen great things done in our time except by those who have been considered mean; the rest have failed. pope julius the second was assisted in reaching the papacy by a reputation for liberality, yet he did not strive afterwards to keep it up, when he made war on the king of france; and he made many wars without imposing any extraordinary tax on his subjects, for he supplied his additional expenses out of his long thriftiness. the present king of spain would not have undertaken or conquered in so many enterprises if he had been reputed liberal. a prince, therefore, provided that he has not to rob his subjects, that he can defend himself, that he does not become poor and abject, that he is not forced to become rapacious, ought to hold of little account a reputation for being mean, for it is one of those vices which will enable him to govern. and if any one should say: caesar obtained empire by liberality, and many others have reached the highest positions by having been liberal, and by being considered so, i answer: either you are a prince in fact, or in a way to become one. in the first case this liberality is dangerous, in the second it is very necessary to be considered liberal; and caesar was one of those who wished to become pre-eminent in rome; but if he had survived after becoming so, and had not moderated his expenses, he would have destroyed his government. and if any one should reply: many have been princes, and have done great things with armies, who have been considered very liberal, i reply: either a prince spends that which is his own or his subjects' or else that of others. in the first case he ought to be sparing, in the second he ought not to neglect any opportunity for liberality. and to the prince who goes forth with his army, supporting it by pillage, sack, and extortion, handling that which belongs to others, this liberality is necessary, otherwise he would not be followed by soldiers. and of that which is neither yours nor your subjects' you can be a ready giver, as were cyrus, caesar, and alexander; because it does not take away your reputation if you squander that of others, but adds to it; it is only squandering your own that injures you. and there is nothing wastes so rapidly as liberality, for even whilst you exercise it you lose the power to do so, and so become either poor or despised, or else, in avoiding poverty, rapacious and hated. and a prince should guard himself, above all things, against being despised and hated; and liberality leads you to both. therefore it is wiser to have a reputation for meanness which brings reproach without hatred, than to be compelled through seeking a reputation for liberality to incur a name for rapacity which begets reproach with hatred. chapter xvii -- concerning cruelty and clemency, and whether it is better to be loved than feared coming now to the other qualities mentioned above, i say that every prince ought to desire to be considered clement and not cruel. nevertheless he ought to take care not to misuse this clemency. cesare borgia was considered cruel; notwithstanding, his cruelty reconciled the romagna, unified it, and restored it to peace and loyalty. and if this be rightly considered, he will be seen to have been much more merciful than the florentine people, who, to avoid a reputation for cruelty, permitted pistoia to be destroyed.(*) therefore a prince, so long as he keeps his subjects united and loyal, ought not to mind the reproach of cruelty; because with a few examples he will be more merciful than those who, through too much mercy, allow disorders to arise, from which follow murders or robberies; for these are wont to injure the whole people, whilst those executions which originate with a prince offend the individual only. (*) during the rioting between the cancellieri and panciatichi factions in and . and of all princes, it is impossible for the new prince to avoid the imputation of cruelty, owing to new states being full of dangers. hence virgil, through the mouth of dido, excuses the inhumanity of her reign owing to its being new, saying: "res dura, et regni novitas me talia cogunt moliri, et late fines custode tueri."(*) nevertheless he ought to be slow to believe and to act, nor should he himself show fear, but proceed in a temperate manner with prudence and humanity, so that too much confidence may not make him incautious and too much distrust render him intolerable. (*) . . . against my will, my fate a throne unsettled, and an infant state, bid me defend my realms with all my pow'rs, and guard with these severities my shores. christopher pitt. upon this a question arises: whether it be better to be loved than feared or feared than loved? it may be answered that one should wish to be both, but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, it is much safer to be feared than loved, when, of the two, either must be dispensed with. because this is to be asserted in general of men, that they are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, and as long as you succeed they are yours entirely; they will offer you their blood, property, life, and children, as is said above, when the need is far distant; but when it approaches they turn against you. and that prince who, relying entirely on their promises, has neglected other precautions, is ruined; because friendships that are obtained by payments, and not by greatness or nobility of mind, may indeed be earned, but they are not secured, and in time of need cannot be relied upon; and men have less scruple in offending one who is beloved than one who is feared, for love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails. nevertheless a prince ought to inspire fear in such a way that, if he does not win love, he avoids hatred; because he can endure very well being feared whilst he is not hated, which will always be as long as he abstains from the property of his citizens and subjects and from their women. but when it is necessary for him to proceed against the life of someone, he must do it on proper justification and for manifest cause, but above all things he must keep his hands off the property of others, because men more quickly forget the death of their father than the loss of their patrimony. besides, pretexts for taking away the property are never wanting; for he who has once begun to live by robbery will always find pretexts for seizing what belongs to others; but reasons for taking life, on the contrary, are more difficult to find and sooner lapse. but when a prince is with his army, and has under control a multitude of soldiers, then it is quite necessary for him to disregard the reputation of cruelty, for without it he would never hold his army united or disposed to its duties. among the wonderful deeds of hannibal this one is enumerated: that having led an enormous army, composed of many various races of men, to fight in foreign lands, no dissensions arose either among them or against the prince, whether in his bad or in his good fortune. this arose from nothing else than his inhuman cruelty, which, with his boundless valour, made him revered and terrible in the sight of his soldiers, but without that cruelty, his other virtues were not sufficient to produce this effect. and short-sighted writers admire his deeds from one point of view and from another condemn the principal cause of them. that it is true his other virtues would not have been sufficient for him may be proved by the case of scipio, that most excellent man, not only of his own times but within the memory of man, against whom, nevertheless, his army rebelled in spain; this arose from nothing but his too great forbearance, which gave his soldiers more license than is consistent with military discipline. for this he was upbraided in the senate by fabius maximus, and called the corrupter of the roman soldiery. the locrians were laid waste by a legate of scipio, yet they were not avenged by him, nor was the insolence of the legate punished, owing entirely to his easy nature. insomuch that someone in the senate, wishing to excuse him, said there were many men who knew much better how not to err than to correct the errors of others. this disposition, if he had been continued in the command, would have destroyed in time the fame and glory of scipio; but, he being under the control of the senate, this injurious characteristic not only concealed itself, but contributed to his glory. returning to the question of being feared or loved, i come to the conclusion that, men loving according to their own will and fearing according to that of the prince, a wise prince should establish himself on that which is in his own control and not in that of others; he must endeavour only to avoid hatred, as is noted. chapter xviii(*) -- concerning the way in which princes should keep faith (*) "the present chapter has given greater offence than any other portion of machiavelli's writings." burd, "il principe," p. . every one admits how praiseworthy it is in a prince to keep faith, and to live with integrity and not with craft. nevertheless our experience has been that those princes who have done great things have held good faith of little account, and have known how to circumvent the intellect of men by craft, and in the end have overcome those who have relied on their word. you must know there are two ways of contesting,(*) the one by the law, the other by force; the first method is proper to men, the second to beasts; but because the first is frequently not sufficient, it is necessary to have recourse to the second. therefore it is necessary for a prince to understand how to avail himself of the beast and the man. this has been figuratively taught to princes by ancient writers, who describe how achilles and many other princes of old were given to the centaur chiron to nurse, who brought them up in his discipline; which means solely that, as they had for a teacher one who was half beast and half man, so it is necessary for a prince to know how to make use of both natures, and that one without the other is not durable. a prince, therefore, being compelled knowingly to adopt the beast, ought to choose the fox and the lion; because the lion cannot defend himself against snares and the fox cannot defend himself against wolves. therefore, it is necessary to be a fox to discover the snares and a lion to terrify the wolves. those who rely simply on the lion do not understand what they are about. therefore a wise lord cannot, nor ought he to, keep faith when such observance may be turned against him, and when the reasons that caused him to pledge it exist no longer. if men were entirely good this precept would not hold, but because they are bad, and will not keep faith with you, you too are not bound to observe it with them. nor will there ever be wanting to a prince legitimate reasons to excuse this non-observance. of this endless modern examples could be given, showing how many treaties and engagements have been made void and of no effect through the faithlessness of princes; and he who has known best how to employ the fox has succeeded best. (*) "contesting," i.e. "striving for mastery." mr burd points out that this passage is imitated directly from cicero's "de officiis": "nam cum sint duo genera decertandi, unum per disceptationem, alterum per vim; cumque illud proprium sit hominis, hoc beluarum; confugiendum est ad posterius, si uti non licet superiore." but it is necessary to know well how to disguise this characteristic, and to be a great pretender and dissembler; and men are so simple, and so subject to present necessities, that he who seeks to deceive will always find someone who will allow himself to be deceived. one recent example i cannot pass over in silence. alexander the sixth did nothing else but deceive men, nor ever thought of doing otherwise, and he always found victims; for there never was a man who had greater power in asserting, or who with greater oaths would affirm a thing, yet would observe it less; nevertheless his deceits always succeeded according to his wishes,(*) because he well understood this side of mankind. (*) "nondimanco sempre gli succederono gli inganni (ad votum)." the words "ad votum" are omitted in the testina addition, . alexander never did what he said, cesare never said what he did. italian proverb. therefore it is unnecessary for a prince to have all the good qualities i have enumerated, but it is very necessary to appear to have them. and i shall dare to say this also, that to have them and always to observe them is injurious, and that to appear to have them is useful; to appear merciful, faithful, humane, religious, upright, and to be so, but with a mind so framed that should you require not to be so, you may be able and know how to change to the opposite. and you have to understand this, that a prince, especially a new one, cannot observe all those things for which men are esteemed, being often forced, in order to maintain the state, to act contrary to fidelity,(*) friendship, humanity, and religion. therefore it is necessary for him to have a mind ready to turn itself accordingly as the winds and variations of fortune force it, yet, as i have said above, not to diverge from the good if he can avoid doing so, but, if compelled, then to know how to set about it. (*) "contrary to fidelity" or "faith," "contro alla fede," and "tutto fede," "altogether faithful," in the next paragraph. it is noteworthy that these two phrases, "contro alla fede" and "tutto fede," were omitted in the testina edition, which was published with the sanction of the papal authorities. it may be that the meaning attached to the word "fede" was "the faith," i.e. the catholic creed, and not as rendered here "fidelity" and "faithful." observe that the word "religione" was suffered to stand in the text of the testina, being used to signify indifferently every shade of belief, as witness "the religion," a phrase inevitably employed to designate the huguenot heresy. south in his sermon ix, p. , ed. , comments on this passage as follows: "that great patron and coryphaeus of this tribe, nicolo machiavel, laid down this for a master rule in his political scheme: 'that the show of religion was helpful to the politician, but the reality of it hurtful and pernicious.'" for this reason a prince ought to take care that he never lets anything slip from his lips that is not replete with the above-named five qualities, that he may appear to him who sees and hears him altogether merciful, faithful, humane, upright, and religious. there is nothing more necessary to appear to have than this last quality, inasmuch as men judge generally more by the eye than by the hand, because it belongs to everybody to see you, to few to come in touch with you. every one sees what you appear to be, few really know what you are, and those few dare not oppose themselves to the opinion of the many, who have the majesty of the state to defend them; and in the actions of all men, and especially of princes, which it is not prudent to challenge, one judges by the result. for that reason, let a prince have the credit of conquering and holding his state, the means will always be considered honest, and he will be praised by everybody; because the vulgar are always taken by what a thing seems to be and by what comes of it; and in the world there are only the vulgar, for the few find a place there only when the many have no ground to rest on. one prince(*) of the present time, whom it is not well to name, never preaches anything else but peace and good faith, and to both he is most hostile, and either, if he had kept it, would have deprived him of reputation and kingdom many a time. (*) ferdinand of aragon. "when machiavelli was writing 'the prince' it would have been clearly impossible to mention ferdinand's name here without giving offence." burd's "il principe," p. . chapter xix -- that one should avoid being despised and hated now, concerning the characteristics of which mention is made above, i have spoken of the more important ones, the others i wish to discuss briefly under this generality, that the prince must consider, as has been in part said before, how to avoid those things which will make him hated or contemptible; and as often as he shall have succeeded he will have fulfilled his part, and he need not fear any danger in other reproaches. it makes him hated above all things, as i have said, to be rapacious, and to be a violator of the property and women of his subjects, from both of which he must abstain. and when neither their property nor their honor is touched, the majority of men live content, and he has only to contend with the ambition of a few, whom he can curb with ease in many ways. it makes him contemptible to be considered fickle, frivolous, effeminate, mean-spirited, irresolute, from all of which a prince should guard himself as from a rock; and he should endeavour to show in his actions greatness, courage, gravity, and fortitude; and in his private dealings with his subjects let him show that his judgments are irrevocable, and maintain himself in such reputation that no one can hope either to deceive him or to get round him. that prince is highly esteemed who conveys this impression of himself, and he who is highly esteemed is not easily conspired against; for, provided it is well known that he is an excellent man and revered by his people, he can only be attacked with difficulty. for this reason a prince ought to have two fears, one from within, on account of his subjects, the other from without, on account of external powers. from the latter he is defended by being well armed and having good allies, and if he is well armed he will have good friends, and affairs will always remain quiet within when they are quiet without, unless they should have been already disturbed by conspiracy; and even should affairs outside be disturbed, if he has carried out his preparations and has lived as i have said, as long as he does not despair, he will resist every attack, as i said nabis the spartan did. but concerning his subjects, when affairs outside are disturbed he has only to fear that they will conspire secretly, from which a prince can easily secure himself by avoiding being hated and despised, and by keeping the people satisfied with him, which it is most necessary for him to accomplish, as i said above at length. and one of the most efficacious remedies that a prince can have against conspiracies is not to be hated and despised by the people, for he who conspires against a prince always expects to please them by his removal; but when the conspirator can only look forward to offending them, he will not have the courage to take such a course, for the difficulties that confront a conspirator are infinite. and as experience shows, many have been the conspiracies, but few have been successful; because he who conspires cannot act alone, nor can he take a companion except from those whom he believes to be malcontents, and as soon as you have opened your mind to a malcontent you have given him the material with which to content himself, for by denouncing you he can look for every advantage; so that, seeing the gain from this course to be assured, and seeing the other to be doubtful and full of dangers, he must be a very rare friend, or a thoroughly obstinate enemy of the prince, to keep faith with you. and, to reduce the matter into a small compass, i say that, on the side of the conspirator, there is nothing but fear, jealousy, prospect of punishment to terrify him; but on the side of the prince there is the majesty of the principality, the laws, the protection of friends and the state to defend him; so that, adding to all these things the popular goodwill, it is impossible that any one should be so rash as to conspire. for whereas in general the conspirator has to fear before the execution of his plot, in this case he has also to fear the sequel to the crime; because on account of it he has the people for an enemy, and thus cannot hope for any escape. endless examples could be given on this subject, but i will be content with one, brought to pass within the memory of our fathers. messer annibale bentivogli, who was prince in bologna (grandfather of the present annibale), having been murdered by the canneschi, who had conspired against him, not one of his family survived but messer giovanni,(*) who was in childhood: immediately after his assassination the people rose and murdered all the canneschi. this sprung from the popular goodwill which the house of bentivogli enjoyed in those days in bologna; which was so great that, although none remained there after the death of annibale who was able to rule the state, the bolognese, having information that there was one of the bentivogli family in florence, who up to that time had been considered the son of a blacksmith, sent to florence for him and gave him the government of their city, and it was ruled by him until messer giovanni came in due course to the government. (*) giovanni bentivogli, born in bologna , died at milan . he ruled bologna from to . machiavelli's strong condemnation of conspiracies may get its edge from his own very recent experience (february ), when he had been arrested and tortured for his alleged complicity in the boscoli conspiracy. for this reason i consider that a prince ought to reckon conspiracies of little account when his people hold him in esteem; but when it is hostile to him, and bears hatred towards him, he ought to fear everything and everybody. and well-ordered states and wise princes have taken every care not to drive the nobles to desperation, and to keep the people satisfied and contented, for this is one of the most important objects a prince can have. among the best ordered and governed kingdoms of our times is france, and in it are found many good institutions on which depend the liberty and security of the king; of these the first is the parliament and its authority, because he who founded the kingdom, knowing the ambition of the nobility and their boldness, considered that a bit to their mouths would be necessary to hold them in; and, on the other side, knowing the hatred of the people, founded in fear, against the nobles, he wished to protect them, yet he was not anxious for this to be the particular care of the king; therefore, to take away the reproach which he would be liable to from the nobles for favouring the people, and from the people for favouring the nobles, he set up an arbiter, who should be one who could beat down the great and favour the lesser without reproach to the king. neither could you have a better or a more prudent arrangement, or a greater source of security to the king and kingdom. from this one can draw another important conclusion, that princes ought to leave affairs of reproach to the management of others, and keep those of grace in their own hands. and further, i consider that a prince ought to cherish the nobles, but not so as to make himself hated by the people. it may appear, perhaps, to some who have examined the lives and deaths of the roman emperors that many of them would be an example contrary to my opinion, seeing that some of them lived nobly and showed great qualities of soul, nevertheless they have lost their empire or have been killed by subjects who have conspired against them. wishing, therefore, to answer these objections, i will recall the characters of some of the emperors, and will show that the causes of their ruin were not different to those alleged by me; at the same time i will only submit for consideration those things that are noteworthy to him who studies the affairs of those times. it seems to me sufficient to take all those emperors who succeeded to the empire from marcus the philosopher down to maximinus; they were marcus and his son commodus, pertinax, julian, severus and his son antoninus caracalla, macrinus, heliogabalus, alexander, and maximinus. there is first to note that, whereas in other principalities the ambition of the nobles and the insolence of the people only have to be contended with, the roman emperors had a third difficulty in having to put up with the cruelty and avarice of their soldiers, a matter so beset with difficulties that it was the ruin of many; for it was a hard thing to give satisfaction both to soldiers and people; because the people loved peace, and for this reason they loved the unaspiring prince, whilst the soldiers loved the warlike prince who was bold, cruel, and rapacious, which qualities they were quite willing he should exercise upon the people, so that they could get double pay and give vent to their own greed and cruelty. hence it arose that those emperors were always overthrown who, either by birth or training, had no great authority, and most of them, especially those who came new to the principality, recognizing the difficulty of these two opposing humours, were inclined to give satisfaction to the soldiers, caring little about injuring the people. which course was necessary, because, as princes cannot help being hated by someone, they ought, in the first place, to avoid being hated by every one, and when they cannot compass this, they ought to endeavour with the utmost diligence to avoid the hatred of the most powerful. therefore, those emperors who through inexperience had need of special favour adhered more readily to the soldiers than to the people; a course which turned out advantageous to them or not, accordingly as the prince knew how to maintain authority over them. from these causes it arose that marcus, pertinax, and alexander, being all men of modest life, lovers of justice, enemies to cruelty, humane, and benignant, came to a sad end except marcus; he alone lived and died honoured, because he had succeeded to the throne by hereditary title, and owed nothing either to the soldiers or the people; and afterwards, being possessed of many virtues which made him respected, he always kept both orders in their places whilst he lived, and was neither hated nor despised. but pertinax was created emperor against the wishes of the soldiers, who, being accustomed to live licentiously under commodus, could not endure the honest life to which pertinax wished to reduce them; thus, having given cause for hatred, to which hatred there was added contempt for his old age, he was overthrown at the very beginning of his administration. and here it should be noted that hatred is acquired as much by good works as by bad ones, therefore, as i said before, a prince wishing to keep his state is very often forced to do evil; for when that body is corrupt whom you think you have need of to maintain yourself--it may be either the people or the soldiers or the nobles--you have to submit to its humours and to gratify them, and then good works will do you harm. but let us come to alexander, who was a man of such great goodness, that among the other praises which are accorded him is this, that in the fourteen years he held the empire no one was ever put to death by him unjudged; nevertheless, being considered effeminate and a man who allowed himself to be governed by his mother, he became despised, the army conspired against him, and murdered him. turning now to the opposite characters of commodus, severus, antoninus caracalla, and maximinus, you will find them all cruel and rapacious-men who, to satisfy their soldiers, did not hesitate to commit every kind of iniquity against the people; and all, except severus, came to a bad end; but in severus there was so much valour that, keeping the soldiers friendly, although the people were oppressed by him, he reigned successfully; for his valour made him so much admired in the sight of the soldiers and people that the latter were kept in a way astonished and awed and the former respectful and satisfied. and because the actions of this man, as a new prince, were great, i wish to show briefly that he knew well how to counterfeit the fox and the lion, which natures, as i said above, it is necessary for a prince to imitate. knowing the sloth of the emperor julian, he persuaded the army in sclavonia, of which he was captain, that it would be right to go to rome and avenge the death of pertinax, who had been killed by the praetorian soldiers; and under this pretext, without appearing to aspire to the throne, he moved the army on rome, and reached italy before it was known that he had started. on his arrival at rome, the senate, through fear, elected him emperor and killed julian. after this there remained for severus, who wished to make himself master of the whole empire, two difficulties; one in asia, where niger, head of the asiatic army, had caused himself to be proclaimed emperor; the other in the west where albinus was, who also aspired to the throne. and as he considered it dangerous to declare himself hostile to both, he decided to attack niger and to deceive albinus. to the latter he wrote that, being elected emperor by the senate, he was willing to share that dignity with him and sent him the title of caesar; and, moreover, that the senate had made albinus his colleague; which things were accepted by albinus as true. but after severus had conquered and killed niger, and settled oriental affairs, he returned to rome and complained to the senate that albinus, little recognizing the benefits that he had received from him, had by treachery sought to murder him, and for this ingratitude he was compelled to punish him. afterwards he sought him out in france, and took from him his government and life. he who will, therefore, carefully examine the actions of this man will find him a most valiant lion and a most cunning fox; he will find him feared and respected by every one, and not hated by the army; and it need not be wondered at that he, a new man, was able to hold the empire so well, because his supreme renown always protected him from that hatred which the people might have conceived against him for his violence. but his son antoninus was a most eminent man, and had very excellent qualities, which made him admirable in the sight of the people and acceptable to the soldiers, for he was a warlike man, most enduring of fatigue, a despiser of all delicate food and other luxuries, which caused him to be beloved by the armies. nevertheless, his ferocity and cruelties were so great and so unheard of that, after endless single murders, he killed a large number of the people of rome and all those of alexandria. he became hated by the whole world, and also feared by those he had around him, to such an extent that he was murdered in the midst of his army by a centurion. and here it must be noted that such-like deaths, which are deliberately inflicted with a resolved and desperate courage, cannot be avoided by princes, because any one who does not fear to die can inflict them; but a prince may fear them the less because they are very rare; he has only to be careful not to do any grave injury to those whom he employs or has around him in the service of the state. antoninus had not taken this care, but had contumeliously killed a brother of that centurion, whom also he daily threatened, yet retained in his bodyguard; which, as it turned out, was a rash thing to do, and proved the emperor's ruin. but let us come to commodus, to whom it should have been very easy to hold the empire, for, being the son of marcus, he had inherited it, and he had only to follow in the footsteps of his father to please his people and soldiers; but, being by nature cruel and brutal, he gave himself up to amusing the soldiers and corrupting them, so that he might indulge his rapacity upon the people; on the other hand, not maintaining his dignity, often descending to the theatre to compete with gladiators, and doing other vile things, little worthy of the imperial majesty, he fell into contempt with the soldiers, and being hated by one party and despised by the other, he was conspired against and was killed. it remains to discuss the character of maximinus. he was a very warlike man, and the armies, being disgusted with the effeminacy of alexander, of whom i have already spoken, killed him and elected maximinus to the throne. this he did not possess for long, for two things made him hated and despised; the one, his having kept sheep in thrace, which brought him into contempt (it being well known to all, and considered a great indignity by every one), and the other, his having at the accession to his dominions deferred going to rome and taking possession of the imperial seat; he had also gained a reputation for the utmost ferocity by having, through his prefects in rome and elsewhere in the empire, practised many cruelties, so that the whole world was moved to anger at the meanness of his birth and to fear at his barbarity. first africa rebelled, then the senate with all the people of rome, and all italy conspired against him, to which may be added his own army; this latter, besieging aquileia and meeting with difficulties in taking it, were disgusted with his cruelties, and fearing him less when they found so many against him, murdered him. i do not wish to discuss heliogabalus, macrinus, or julian, who, being thoroughly contemptible, were quickly wiped out; but i will bring this discourse to a conclusion by saying that princes in our times have this difficulty of giving inordinate satisfaction to their soldiers in a far less degree, because, notwithstanding one has to give them some indulgence, that is soon done; none of these princes have armies that are veterans in the governance and administration of provinces, as were the armies of the roman empire; and whereas it was then more necessary to give satisfaction to the soldiers than to the people, it is now more necessary to all princes, except the turk and the soldan, to satisfy the people rather the soldiers, because the people are the more powerful. from the above i have excepted the turk, who always keeps round him twelve thousand infantry and fifteen thousand cavalry on which depend the security and strength of the kingdom, and it is necessary that, putting aside every consideration for the people, he should keep them his friends. the kingdom of the soldan is similar; being entirely in the hands of soldiers, it follows again that, without regard to the people, he must keep them his friends. but you must note that the state of the soldan is unlike all other principalities, for the reason that it is like the christian pontificate, which cannot be called either an hereditary or a newly formed principality; because the sons of the old prince are not the heirs, but he who is elected to that position by those who have authority, and the sons remain only noblemen. and this being an ancient custom, it cannot be called a new principality, because there are none of those difficulties in it that are met with in new ones; for although the prince is new, the constitution of the state is old, and it is framed so as to receive him as if he were its hereditary lord. but returning to the subject of our discourse, i say that whoever will consider it will acknowledge that either hatred or contempt has been fatal to the above-named emperors, and it will be recognized also how it happened that, a number of them acting in one way and a number in another, only one in each way came to a happy end and the rest to unhappy ones. because it would have been useless and dangerous for pertinax and alexander, being new princes, to imitate marcus, who was heir to the principality; and likewise it would have been utterly destructive to caracalla, commodus, and maximinus to have imitated severus, they not having sufficient valour to enable them to tread in his footsteps. therefore a prince, new to the principality, cannot imitate the actions of marcus, nor, again, is it necessary to follow those of severus, but he ought to take from severus those parts which are necessary to found his state, and from marcus those which are proper and glorious to keep a state that may already be stable and firm. chapter xx -- are fortresses, and many other things to which princes often resort, advantageous or hurtful? . some princes, so as to hold securely the state, have disarmed their subjects; others have kept their subject towns distracted by factions; others have fostered enmities against themselves; others have laid themselves out to gain over those whom they distrusted in the beginning of their governments; some have built fortresses; some have overthrown and destroyed them. and although one cannot give a final judgment on all of these things unless one possesses the particulars of those states in which a decision has to be made, nevertheless i will speak as comprehensively as the matter of itself will admit. . there never was a new prince who has disarmed his subjects; rather when he has found them disarmed he has always armed them, because, by arming them, those arms become yours, those men who were distrusted become faithful, and those who were faithful are kept so, and your subjects become your adherents. and whereas all subjects cannot be armed, yet when those whom you do arm are benefited, the others can be handled more freely, and this difference in their treatment, which they quite understand, makes the former your dependents, and the latter, considering it to be necessary that those who have the most danger and service should have the most reward, excuse you. but when you disarm them, you at once offend them by showing that you distrust them, either for cowardice or for want of loyalty, and either of these opinions breeds hatred against you. and because you cannot remain unarmed, it follows that you turn to mercenaries, which are of the character already shown; even if they should be good they would not be sufficient to defend you against powerful enemies and distrusted subjects. therefore, as i have said, a new prince in a new principality has always distributed arms. histories are full of examples. but when a prince acquires a new state, which he adds as a province to his old one, then it is necessary to disarm the men of that state, except those who have been his adherents in acquiring it; and these again, with time and opportunity, should be rendered soft and effeminate; and matters should be managed in such a way that all the armed men in the state shall be your own soldiers who in your old state were living near you. . our forefathers, and those who were reckoned wise, were accustomed to say that it was necessary to hold pistoia by factions and pisa by fortresses; and with this idea they fostered quarrels in some of their tributary towns so as to keep possession of them the more easily. this may have been well enough in those times when italy was in a way balanced, but i do not believe that it can be accepted as a precept for to-day, because i do not believe that factions can ever be of use; rather it is certain that when the enemy comes upon you in divided cities you are quickly lost, because the weakest party will always assist the outside forces and the other will not be able to resist. the venetians, moved, as i believe, by the above reasons, fostered the guelph and ghibelline factions in their tributary cities; and although they never allowed them to come to bloodshed, yet they nursed these disputes amongst them, so that the citizens, distracted by their differences, should not unite against them. which, as we saw, did not afterwards turn out as expected, because, after the rout at vaila, one party at once took courage and seized the state. such methods argue, therefore, weakness in the prince, because these factions will never be permitted in a vigorous principality; such methods for enabling one the more easily to manage subjects are only useful in times of peace, but if war comes this policy proves fallacious. . without doubt princes become great when they overcome the difficulties and obstacles by which they are confronted, and therefore fortune, especially when she desires to make a new prince great, who has a greater necessity to earn renown than an hereditary one, causes enemies to arise and form designs against him, in order that he may have the opportunity of overcoming them, and by them to mount higher, as by a ladder which his enemies have raised. for this reason many consider that a wise prince, when he has the opportunity, ought with craft to foster some animosity against himself, so that, having crushed it, his renown may rise higher. . princes, especially new ones, have found more fidelity and assistance in those men who in the beginning of their rule were distrusted than among those who in the beginning were trusted. pandolfo petrucci, prince of siena, ruled his state more by those who had been distrusted than by others. but on this question one cannot speak generally, for it varies so much with the individual; i will only say this, that those men who at the commencement of a princedom have been hostile, if they are of a description to need assistance to support themselves, can always be gained over with the greatest ease, and they will be tightly held to serve the prince with fidelity, inasmuch as they know it to be very necessary for them to cancel by deeds the bad impression which he had formed of them; and thus the prince always extracts more profit from them than from those who, serving him in too much security, may neglect his affairs. and since the matter demands it, i must not fail to warn a prince, who by means of secret favours has acquired a new state, that he must well consider the reasons which induced those to favour him who did so; and if it be not a natural affection towards him, but only discontent with their government, then he will only keep them friendly with great trouble and difficulty, for it will be impossible to satisfy them. and weighing well the reasons for this in those examples which can be taken from ancient and modern affairs, we shall find that it is easier for the prince to make friends of those men who were contented under the former government, and are therefore his enemies, than of those who, being discontented with it, were favourable to him and encouraged him to seize it. . it has been a custom with princes, in order to hold their states more securely, to build fortresses that may serve as a bridle and bit to those who might design to work against them, and as a place of refuge from a first attack. i praise this system because it has been made use of formerly. notwithstanding that, messer nicolo vitelli in our times has been seen to demolish two fortresses in citta di castello so that he might keep that state; guido ubaldo, duke of urbino, on returning to his dominion, whence he had been driven by cesare borgia, razed to the foundations all the fortresses in that province, and considered that without them it would be more difficult to lose it; the bentivogli returning to bologna came to a similar decision. fortresses, therefore, are useful or not according to circumstances; if they do you good in one way they injure you in another. and this question can be reasoned thus: the prince who has more to fear from the people than from foreigners ought to build fortresses, but he who has more to fear from foreigners than from the people ought to leave them alone. the castle of milan, built by francesco sforza, has made, and will make, more trouble for the house of sforza than any other disorder in the state. for this reason the best possible fortress is--not to be hated by the people, because, although you may hold the fortresses, yet they will not save you if the people hate you, for there will never be wanting foreigners to assist a people who have taken arms against you. it has not been seen in our times that such fortresses have been of use to any prince, unless to the countess of forli,(*) when the count girolamo, her consort, was killed; for by that means she was able to withstand the popular attack and wait for assistance from milan, and thus recover her state; and the posture of affairs was such at that time that the foreigners could not assist the people. but fortresses were of little value to her afterwards when cesare borgia attacked her, and when the people, her enemy, were allied with foreigners. therefore, it would have been safer for her, both then and before, not to have been hated by the people than to have had the fortresses. all these things considered then, i shall praise him who builds fortresses as well as him who does not, and i shall blame whoever, trusting in them, cares little about being hated by the people. (*) catherine sforza, a daughter of galeazzo sforza and lucrezia landriani, born , died . it was to the countess of forli that machiavelli was sent as envoy on . a letter from fortunati to the countess announces the appointment: "i have been with the signori," wrote fortunati, "to learn whom they would send and when. they tell me that nicolo machiavelli, a learned young florentine noble, secretary to my lords of the ten, is to leave with me at once." cf. "catherine sforza," by count pasolini, translated by p. sylvester, . chapter xxi -- how a prince should conduct himself so as to gain renown nothing makes a prince so much esteemed as great enterprises and setting a fine example. we have in our time ferdinand of aragon, the present king of spain. he can almost be called a new prince, because he has risen, by fame and glory, from being an insignificant king to be the foremost king in christendom; and if you will consider his deeds you will find them all great and some of them extraordinary. in the beginning of his reign he attacked granada, and this enterprise was the foundation of his dominions. he did this quietly at first and without any fear of hindrance, for he held the minds of the barons of castile occupied in thinking of the war and not anticipating any innovations; thus they did not perceive that by these means he was acquiring power and authority over them. he was able with the money of the church and of the people to sustain his armies, and by that long war to lay the foundation for the military skill which has since distinguished him. further, always using religion as a plea, so as to undertake greater schemes, he devoted himself with pious cruelty to driving out and clearing his kingdom of the moors; nor could there be a more admirable example, nor one more rare. under this same cloak he assailed africa, he came down on italy, he has finally attacked france; and thus his achievements and designs have always been great, and have kept the minds of his people in suspense and admiration and occupied with the issue of them. and his actions have arisen in such a way, one out of the other, that men have never been given time to work steadily against him. again, it much assists a prince to set unusual examples in internal affairs, similar to those which are related of messer bernabo da milano, who, when he had the opportunity, by any one in civil life doing some extraordinary thing, either good or bad, would take some method of rewarding or punishing him, which would be much spoken about. and a prince ought, above all things, always endeavour in every action to gain for himself the reputation of being a great and remarkable man. a prince is also respected when he is either a true friend or a downright enemy, that is to say, when, without any reservation, he declares himself in favour of one party against the other; which course will always be more advantageous than standing neutral; because if two of your powerful neighbours come to blows, they are of such a character that, if one of them conquers, you have either to fear him or not. in either case it will always be more advantageous for you to declare yourself and to make war strenuously; because, in the first case, if you do not declare yourself, you will invariably fall a prey to the conqueror, to the pleasure and satisfaction of him who has been conquered, and you will have no reasons to offer, nor anything to protect or to shelter you. because he who conquers does not want doubtful friends who will not aid him in the time of trial; and he who loses will not harbour you because you did not willingly, sword in hand, court his fate. antiochus went into greece, being sent for by the aetolians to drive out the romans. he sent envoys to the achaeans, who were friends of the romans, exhorting them to remain neutral; and on the other hand the romans urged them to take up arms. this question came to be discussed in the council of the achaeans, where the legate of antiochus urged them to stand neutral. to this the roman legate answered: "as for that which has been said, that it is better and more advantageous for your state not to interfere in our war, nothing can be more erroneous; because by not interfering you will be left, without favour or consideration, the guerdon of the conqueror." thus it will always happen that he who is not your friend will demand your neutrality, whilst he who is your friend will entreat you to declare yourself with arms. and irresolute princes, to avoid present dangers, generally follow the neutral path, and are generally ruined. but when a prince declares himself gallantly in favour of one side, if the party with whom he allies himself conquers, although the victor may be powerful and may have him at his mercy, yet he is indebted to him, and there is established a bond of amity; and men are never so shameless as to become a monument of ingratitude by oppressing you. victories after all are never so complete that the victor must not show some regard, especially to justice. but if he with whom you ally yourself loses, you may be sheltered by him, and whilst he is able he may aid you, and you become companions on a fortune that may rise again. in the second case, when those who fight are of such a character that you have no anxiety as to who may conquer, so much the more is it greater prudence to be allied, because you assist at the destruction of one by the aid of another who, if he had been wise, would have saved him; and conquering, as it is impossible that he should not do with your assistance, he remains at your discretion. and here it is to be noted that a prince ought to take care never to make an alliance with one more powerful than himself for the purposes of attacking others, unless necessity compels him, as is said above; because if he conquers you are at his discretion, and princes ought to avoid as much as possible being at the discretion of any one. the venetians joined with france against the duke of milan, and this alliance, which caused their ruin, could have been avoided. but when it cannot be avoided, as happened to the florentines when the pope and spain sent armies to attack lombardy, then in such a case, for the above reasons, the prince ought to favour one of the parties. never let any government imagine that it can choose perfectly safe courses; rather let it expect to have to take very doubtful ones, because it is found in ordinary affairs that one never seeks to avoid one trouble without running into another; but prudence consists in knowing how to distinguish the character of troubles, and for choice to take the lesser evil. a prince ought also to show himself a patron of ability, and to honour the proficient in every art. at the same time he should encourage his citizens to practise their callings peaceably, both in commerce and agriculture, and in every other following, so that the one should not be deterred from improving his possessions for fear lest they be taken away from him or another from opening up trade for fear of taxes; but the prince ought to offer rewards to whoever wishes to do these things and designs in any way to honour his city or state. further, he ought to entertain the people with festivals and spectacles at convenient seasons of the year; and as every city is divided into guilds or into societies,(*) he ought to hold such bodies in esteem, and associate with them sometimes, and show himself an example of courtesy and liberality; nevertheless, always maintaining the majesty of his rank, for this he must never consent to abate in anything. (*) "guilds or societies," "in arti o in tribu." "arti" were craft or trade guilds, cf. florio: "arte . . . a whole company of any trade in any city or corporation town." the guilds of florence are most admirably described by mr edgcumbe staley in his work on the subject (methuen, ). institutions of a somewhat similar character, called "artel," exist in russia to-day, cf. sir mackenzie wallace's "russia," ed. : "the sons . . . were always during the working season members of an artel. in some of the larger towns there are artels of a much more complex kind-- permanent associations, possessing large capital, and pecuniarily responsible for the acts of the individual members." the word "artel," despite its apparent similarity, has, mr aylmer maude assures me, no connection with "ars" or "arte." its root is that of the verb "rotisya," to bind oneself by an oath; and it is generally admitted to be only another form of "rota," which now signifies a "regimental company." in both words the underlying idea is that of a body of men united by an oath. "tribu" were possibly gentile groups, united by common descent, and included individuals connected by marriage. perhaps our words "sects" or "clans" would be most appropriate. chapter xxii -- concerning the secretaries of princes the choice of servants is of no little importance to a prince, and they are good or not according to the discrimination of the prince. and the first opinion which one forms of a prince, and of his understanding, is by observing the men he has around him; and when they are capable and faithful he may always be considered wise, because he has known how to recognize the capable and to keep them faithful. but when they are otherwise one cannot form a good opinion of him, for the prime error which he made was in choosing them. there were none who knew messer antonio da venafro as the servant of pandolfo petrucci, prince of siena, who would not consider pandolfo to be a very clever man in having venafro for his servant. because there are three classes of intellects: one which comprehends by itself; another which appreciates what others comprehended; and a third which neither comprehends by itself nor by the showing of others; the first is the most excellent, the second is good, the third is useless. therefore, it follows necessarily that, if pandolfo was not in the first rank, he was in the second, for whenever one has judgment to know good and bad when it is said and done, although he himself may not have the initiative, yet he can recognize the good and the bad in his servant, and the one he can praise and the other correct; thus the servant cannot hope to deceive him, and is kept honest. but to enable a prince to form an opinion of his servant there is one test which never fails; when you see the servant thinking more of his own interests than of yours, and seeking inwardly his own profit in everything, such a man will never make a good servant, nor will you ever be able to trust him; because he who has the state of another in his hands ought never to think of himself, but always of his prince, and never pay any attention to matters in which the prince is not concerned. on the other hand, to keep his servant honest the prince ought to study him, honouring him, enriching him, doing him kindnesses, sharing with him the honours and cares; and at the same time let him see that he cannot stand alone, so that many honours may not make him desire more, many riches make him wish for more, and that many cares may make him dread chances. when, therefore, servants, and princes towards servants, are thus disposed, they can trust each other, but when it is otherwise, the end will always be disastrous for either one or the other. chapter xxiii -- how flatterers should be avoided i do not wish to leave out an important branch of this subject, for it is a danger from which princes are with difficulty preserved, unless they are very careful and discriminating. it is that of flatterers, of whom courts are full, because men are so self-complacent in their own affairs, and in a way so deceived in them, that they are preserved with difficulty from this pest, and if they wish to defend themselves they run the danger of falling into contempt. because there is no other way of guarding oneself from flatterers except letting men understand that to tell you the truth does not offend you; but when every one may tell you the truth, respect for you abates. therefore a wise prince ought to hold a third course by choosing the wise men in his state, and giving to them only the liberty of speaking the truth to him, and then only of those things of which he inquires, and of none others; but he ought to question them upon everything, and listen to their opinions, and afterwards form his own conclusions. with these councillors, separately and collectively, he ought to carry himself in such a way that each of them should know that, the more freely he shall speak, the more he shall be preferred; outside of these, he should listen to no one, pursue the thing resolved on, and be steadfast in his resolutions. he who does otherwise is either overthrown by flatterers, or is so often changed by varying opinions that he falls into contempt. i wish on this subject to adduce a modern example. fra luca, the man of affairs to maximilian,(*) the present emperor, speaking of his majesty, said: he consulted with no one, yet never got his own way in anything. this arose because of his following a practice the opposite to the above; for the emperor is a secretive man--he does not communicate his designs to any one, nor does he receive opinions on them. but as in carrying them into effect they become revealed and known, they are at once obstructed by those men whom he has around him, and he, being pliant, is diverted from them. hence it follows that those things he does one day he undoes the next, and no one ever understands what he wishes or intends to do, and no one can rely on his resolutions. (*) maximilian i, born in , died , emperor of the holy roman empire. he married, first, mary, daughter of charles the bold; after her death, bianca sforza; and thus became involved in italian politics. a prince, therefore, ought always to take counsel, but only when he wishes and not when others wish; he ought rather to discourage every one from offering advice unless he asks it; but, however, he ought to be a constant inquirer, and afterwards a patient listener concerning the things of which he inquired; also, on learning that any one, on any consideration, has not told him the truth, he should let his anger be felt. and if there are some who think that a prince who conveys an impression of his wisdom is not so through his own ability, but through the good advisers that he has around him, beyond doubt they are deceived, because this is an axiom which never fails: that a prince who is not wise himself will never take good advice, unless by chance he has yielded his affairs entirely to one person who happens to be a very prudent man. in this case indeed he may be well governed, but it would not be for long, because such a governor would in a short time take away his state from him. but if a prince who is not inexperienced should take counsel from more than one he will never get united counsels, nor will he know how to unite them. each of the counsellors will think of his own interests, and the prince will not know how to control them or to see through them. and they are not to be found otherwise, because men will always prove untrue to you unless they are kept honest by constraint. therefore it must be inferred that good counsels, whencesoever they come, are born of the wisdom of the prince, and not the wisdom of the prince from good counsels. chapter xxiv -- why the princes of italy have lost their states the previous suggestions, carefully observed, will enable a new prince to appear well established, and render him at once more secure and fixed in the state than if he had been long seated there. for the actions of a new prince are more narrowly observed than those of an hereditary one, and when they are seen to be able they gain more men and bind far tighter than ancient blood; because men are attracted more by the present than by the past, and when they find the present good they enjoy it and seek no further; they will also make the utmost defence of a prince if he fails them not in other things. thus it will be a double glory for him to have established a new principality, and adorned and strengthened it with good laws, good arms, good allies, and with a good example; so will it be a double disgrace to him who, born a prince, shall lose his state by want of wisdom. and if those seigniors are considered who have lost their states in italy in our times, such as the king of naples, the duke of milan, and others, there will be found in them, firstly, one common defect in regard to arms from the causes which have been discussed at length; in the next place, some one of them will be seen, either to have had the people hostile, or if he has had the people friendly, he has not known how to secure the nobles. in the absence of these defects states that have power enough to keep an army in the field cannot be lost. philip of macedon, not the father of alexander the great, but he who was conquered by titus quintius, had not much territory compared to the greatness of the romans and of greece who attacked him, yet being a warlike man who knew how to attract the people and secure the nobles, he sustained the war against his enemies for many years, and if in the end he lost the dominion of some cities, nevertheless he retained the kingdom. therefore, do not let our princes accuse fortune for the loss of their principalities after so many years' possession, but rather their own sloth, because in quiet times they never thought there could be a change (it is a common defect in man not to make any provision in the calm against the tempest), and when afterwards the bad times came they thought of flight and not of defending themselves, and they hoped that the people, disgusted with the insolence of the conquerors, would recall them. this course, when others fail, may be good, but it is very bad to have neglected all other expedients for that, since you would never wish to fall because you trusted to be able to find someone later on to restore you. this again either does not happen, or, if it does, it will not be for your security, because that deliverance is of no avail which does not depend upon yourself; those only are reliable, certain, and durable that depend on yourself and your valour. chapter xxv -- what fortune can effect in human affairs and how to withstand her it is not unknown to me how many men have had, and still have, the opinion that the affairs of the world are in such wise governed by fortune and by god that men with their wisdom cannot direct them and that no one can even help them; and because of this they would have us believe that it is not necessary to labour much in affairs, but to let chance govern them. this opinion has been more credited in our times because of the great changes in affairs which have been seen, and may still be seen, every day, beyond all human conjecture. sometimes pondering over this, i am in some degree inclined to their opinion. nevertheless, not to extinguish our free will, i hold it to be true that fortune is the arbiter of one-half of our actions,(*) but that she still leaves us to direct the other half, or perhaps a little less. (*) frederick the great was accustomed to say: "the older one gets the more convinced one becomes that his majesty king chance does three-quarters of the business of this miserable universe." sorel's "eastern question." i compare her to one of those raging rivers, which when in flood overflows the plains, sweeping away trees and buildings, bearing away the soil from place to place; everything flies before it, all yield to its violence, without being able in any way to withstand it; and yet, though its nature be such, it does not follow therefore that men, when the weather becomes fair, shall not make provision, both with defences and barriers, in such a manner that, rising again, the waters may pass away by canal, and their force be neither so unrestrained nor so dangerous. so it happens with fortune, who shows her power where valour has not prepared to resist her, and thither she turns her forces where she knows that barriers and defences have not been raised to constrain her. and if you will consider italy, which is the seat of these changes, and which has given to them their impulse, you will see it to be an open country without barriers and without any defence. for if it had been defended by proper valour, as are germany, spain, and france, either this invasion would not have made the great changes it has made or it would not have come at all. and this i consider enough to say concerning resistance to fortune in general. but confining myself more to the particular, i say that a prince may be seen happy to-day and ruined to-morrow without having shown any change of disposition or character. this, i believe, arises firstly from causes that have already been discussed at length, namely, that the prince who relies entirely on fortune is lost when it changes. i believe also that he will be successful who directs his actions according to the spirit of the times, and that he whose actions do not accord with the times will not be successful. because men are seen, in affairs that lead to the end which every man has before him, namely, glory and riches, to get there by various methods; one with caution, another with haste; one by force, another by skill; one by patience, another by its opposite; and each one succeeds in reaching the goal by a different method. one can also see of two cautious men the one attain his end, the other fail; and similarly, two men by different observances are equally successful, the one being cautious, the other impetuous; all this arises from nothing else than whether or not they conform in their methods to the spirit of the times. this follows from what i have said, that two men working differently bring about the same effect, and of two working similarly, one attains his object and the other does not. changes in estate also issue from this, for if, to one who governs himself with caution and patience, times and affairs converge in such a way that his administration is successful, his fortune is made; but if times and affairs change, he is ruined if he does not change his course of action. but a man is not often found sufficiently circumspect to know how to accommodate himself to the change, both because he cannot deviate from what nature inclines him to do, and also because, having always prospered by acting in one way, he cannot be persuaded that it is well to leave it; and, therefore, the cautious man, when it is time to turn adventurous, does not know how to do it, hence he is ruined; but had he changed his conduct with the times fortune would not have changed. pope julius the second went to work impetuously in all his affairs, and found the times and circumstances conform so well to that line of action that he always met with success. consider his first enterprise against bologna, messer giovanni bentivogli being still alive. the venetians were not agreeable to it, nor was the king of spain, and he had the enterprise still under discussion with the king of france; nevertheless he personally entered upon the expedition with his accustomed boldness and energy, a move which made spain and the venetians stand irresolute and passive, the latter from fear, the former from desire to recover the kingdom of naples; on the other hand, he drew after him the king of france, because that king, having observed the movement, and desiring to make the pope his friend so as to humble the venetians, found it impossible to refuse him. therefore julius with his impetuous action accomplished what no other pontiff with simple human wisdom could have done; for if he had waited in rome until he could get away, with his plans arranged and everything fixed, as any other pontiff would have done, he would never have succeeded. because the king of france would have made a thousand excuses, and the others would have raised a thousand fears. i will leave his other actions alone, as they were all alike, and they all succeeded, for the shortness of his life did not let him experience the contrary; but if circumstances had arisen which required him to go cautiously, his ruin would have followed, because he would never have deviated from those ways to which nature inclined him. i conclude, therefore that, fortune being changeful and mankind steadfast in their ways, so long as the two are in agreement men are successful, but unsuccessful when they fall out. for my part i consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because fortune is a woman, and if you wish to keep her under it is necessary to beat and ill-use her; and it is seen that she allows herself to be mastered by the adventurous rather than by those who go to work more coldly. she is, therefore, always, woman-like, a lover of young men, because they are less cautious, more violent, and with more audacity command her. chapter xxvi -- an exhortation to liberate italy from the barbarians having carefully considered the subject of the above discourses, and wondering within myself whether the present times were propitious to a new prince, and whether there were elements that would give an opportunity to a wise and virtuous one to introduce a new order of things which would do honour to him and good to the people of this country, it appears to me that so many things concur to favour a new prince that i never knew a time more fit than the present. and if, as i said, it was necessary that the people of israel should be captive so as to make manifest the ability of moses; that the persians should be oppressed by the medes so as to discover the greatness of the soul of cyrus; and that the athenians should be dispersed to illustrate the capabilities of theseus: then at the present time, in order to discover the virtue of an italian spirit, it was necessary that italy should be reduced to the extremity that she is now in, that she should be more enslaved than the hebrews, more oppressed than the persians, more scattered than the athenians; without head, without order, beaten, despoiled, torn, overrun; and to have endured every kind of desolation. although lately some spark may have been shown by one, which made us think he was ordained by god for our redemption, nevertheless it was afterwards seen, in the height of his career, that fortune rejected him; so that italy, left as without life, waits for him who shall yet heal her wounds and put an end to the ravaging and plundering of lombardy, to the swindling and taxing of the kingdom and of tuscany, and cleanse those sores that for long have festered. it is seen how she entreats god to send someone who shall deliver her from these wrongs and barbarous insolencies. it is seen also that she is ready and willing to follow a banner if only someone will raise it. nor is there to be seen at present one in whom she can place more hope than in your illustrious house,(*) with its valour and fortune, favoured by god and by the church of which it is now the chief, and which could be made the head of this redemption. this will not be difficult if you will recall to yourself the actions and lives of the men i have named. and although they were great and wonderful men, yet they were men, and each one of them had no more opportunity than the present offers, for their enterprises were neither more just nor easier than this, nor was god more their friend than he is yours. (*) giuliano de medici. he had just been created a cardinal by leo x. in giuliano was elected pope, and took the title of clement vii. with us there is great justice, because that war is just which is necessary, and arms are hallowed when there is no other hope but in them. here there is the greatest willingness, and where the willingness is great the difficulties cannot be great if you will only follow those men to whom i have directed your attention. further than this, how extraordinarily the ways of god have been manifested beyond example: the sea is divided, a cloud has led the way, the rock has poured forth water, it has rained manna, everything has contributed to your greatness; you ought to do the rest. god is not willing to do everything, and thus take away our free will and that share of glory which belongs to us. and it is not to be wondered at if none of the above-named italians have been able to accomplish all that is expected from your illustrious house; and if in so many revolutions in italy, and in so many campaigns, it has always appeared as if military virtue were exhausted, this has happened because the old order of things was not good, and none of us have known how to find a new one. and nothing honours a man more than to establish new laws and new ordinances when he himself was newly risen. such things when they are well founded and dignified will make him revered and admired, and in italy there are not wanting opportunities to bring such into use in every form. here there is great valour in the limbs whilst it fails in the head. look attentively at the duels and the hand-to-hand combats, how superior the italians are in strength, dexterity, and subtlety. but when it comes to armies they do not bear comparison, and this springs entirely from the insufficiency of the leaders, since those who are capable are not obedient, and each one seems to himself to know, there having never been any one so distinguished above the rest, either by valour or fortune, that others would yield to him. hence it is that for so long a time, and during so much fighting in the past twenty years, whenever there has been an army wholly italian, it has always given a poor account of itself; the first witness to this is il taro, afterwards allesandria, capua, genoa, vaila, bologna, mestri.(*) (*) the battles of il taro, ; alessandria, ; capua, ; genoa, ; vaila, ; bologna, ; mestri, . if, therefore, your illustrious house wishes to follow these remarkable men who have redeemed their country, it is necessary before all things, as a true foundation for every enterprise, to be provided with your own forces, because there can be no more faithful, truer, or better soldiers. and although singly they are good, altogether they will be much better when they find themselves commanded by their prince, honoured by him, and maintained at his expense. therefore it is necessary to be prepared with such arms, so that you can be defended against foreigners by italian valour. and although swiss and spanish infantry may be considered very formidable, nevertheless there is a defect in both, by reason of which a third order would not only be able to oppose them, but might be relied upon to overthrow them. for the spaniards cannot resist cavalry, and the switzers are afraid of infantry whenever they encounter them in close combat. owing to this, as has been and may again be seen, the spaniards are unable to resist french cavalry, and the switzers are overthrown by spanish infantry. and although a complete proof of this latter cannot be shown, nevertheless there was some evidence of it at the battle of ravenna, when the spanish infantry were confronted by german battalions, who follow the same tactics as the swiss; when the spaniards, by agility of body and with the aid of their shields, got in under the pikes of the germans and stood out of danger, able to attack, while the germans stood helpless, and, if the cavalry had not dashed up, all would have been over with them. it is possible, therefore, knowing the defects of both these infantries, to invent a new one, which will resist cavalry and not be afraid of infantry; this need not create a new order of arms, but a variation upon the old. and these are the kind of improvements which confer reputation and power upon a new prince. this opportunity, therefore, ought not to be allowed to pass for letting italy at last see her liberator appear. nor can one express the love with which he would be received in all those provinces which have suffered so much from these foreign scourings, with what thirst for revenge, with what stubborn faith, with what devotion, with what tears. what door would be closed to him? who would refuse obedience to him? what envy would hinder him? what italian would refuse him homage? to all of us this barbarous dominion stinks. let, therefore, your illustrious house take up this charge with that courage and hope with which all just enterprises are undertaken, so that under its standard our native country may be ennobled, and under its auspices may be verified that saying of petrarch: virtu contro al furore prendera l'arme, e fia il combatter corto: che l'antico valore negli italici cuor non e ancor morto. virtue against fury shall advance the fight, and it i' th' combat soon shall put to flight: for the old roman valour is not dead, nor in th' italians' brests extinguished. edward dacre, . description of the methods adopted by the duke valentino when murdering vitellozzo vitelli, oliverotto da fermo, the signor pagolo, and the duke di gravina orsini by nicolo machiavelli the duke valentino had returned from lombardy, where he had been to clear himself with the king of france from the calumnies which had been raised against him by the florentines concerning the rebellion of arezzo and other towns in the val di chiana, and had arrived at imola, whence he intended with his army to enter upon the campaign against giovanni bentivogli, the tyrant of bologna: for he intended to bring that city under his domination, and to make it the head of his romagnian duchy. these matters coming to the knowledge of the vitelli and orsini and their following, it appeared to them that the duke would become too powerful, and it was feared that, having seized bologna, he would seek to destroy them in order that he might become supreme in italy. upon this a meeting was called at magione in the district of perugia, to which came the cardinal, pagolo, and the duke di gravina orsini, vitellozzo vitelli, oliverotto da fermo, gianpagolo baglioni, the tyrant of perugia, and messer antonio da venafro, sent by pandolfo petrucci, the prince of siena. here were discussed the power and courage of the duke and the necessity of curbing his ambitions, which might otherwise bring danger to the rest of being ruined. and they decided not to abandon the bentivogli, but to strive to win over the florentines; and they sent their men to one place and another, promising to one party assistance and to another encouragement to unite with them against the common enemy. this meeting was at once reported throughout all italy, and those who were discontented under the duke, among whom were the people of urbino, took hope of effecting a revolution. thus it arose that, men's minds being thus unsettled, it was decided by certain men of urbino to seize the fortress of san leo, which was held for the duke, and which they captured by the following means. the castellan was fortifying the rock and causing timber to be taken there; so the conspirators watched, and when certain beams which were being carried to the rock were upon the bridge, so that it was prevented from being drawn up by those inside, they took the opportunity of leaping upon the bridge and thence into the fortress. upon this capture being effected, the whole state rebelled and recalled the old duke, being encouraged in this, not so much by the capture of the fort, as by the diet at magione, from whom they expected to get assistance. those who heard of the rebellion at urbino thought they would not lose the opportunity, and at once assembled their men so as to take any town, should any remain in the hands of the duke in that state; and they sent again to florence to beg that republic to join with them in destroying the common firebrand, showing that the risk was lessened and that they ought not to wait for another opportunity. but the florentines, from hatred, for sundry reasons, of the vitelli and orsini, not only would not ally themselves, but sent nicolo machiavelli, their secretary, to offer shelter and assistance to the duke against his enemies. the duke was found full of fear at imola, because, against everybody's expectation, his soldiers had at once gone over to the enemy and he found himself disarmed and war at his door. but recovering courage from the offers of the florentines, he decided to temporize before fighting with the few soldiers that remained to him, and to negotiate for a reconciliation, and also to get assistance. this latter he obtained in two ways, by sending to the king of france for men and by enlisting men-at-arms and others whom he turned into cavalry of a sort: to all he gave money. notwithstanding this, his enemies drew near to him, and approached fossombrone, where they encountered some men of the duke and, with the aid of the orsini and vitelli, routed them. when this happened, the duke resolved at once to see if he could not close the trouble with offers of reconciliation, and being a most perfect dissembler he did not fail in any practices to make the insurgents understand that he wished every man who had acquired anything to keep it, as it was enough for him to have the title of prince, whilst others might have the principality. and the duke succeeded so well in this that they sent signor pagolo to him to negotiate for a reconciliation, and they brought their army to a standstill. but the duke did not stop his preparations, and took every care to provide himself with cavalry and infantry, and that such preparations might not be apparent to the others, he sent his troops in separate parties to every part of the romagna. in the meanwhile there came also to him five hundred french lancers, and although he found himself sufficiently strong to take vengeance on his enemies in open war, he considered that it would be safer and more advantageous to outwit them, and for this reason he did not stop the work of reconciliation. and that this might be effected the duke concluded a peace with them in which he confirmed their former covenants; he gave them four thousand ducats at once; he promised not to injure the bentivogli; and he formed an alliance with giovanni; and moreover he would not force them to come personally into his presence unless it pleased them to do so. on the other hand, they promised to restore to him the duchy of urbino and other places seized by them, to serve him in all his expeditions, and not to make war against or ally themselves with any one without his permission. this reconciliation being completed, guido ubaldo, the duke of urbino, again fled to venice, having first destroyed all the fortresses in his state; because, trusting in the people, he did not wish that the fortresses, which he did not think he could defend, should be held by the enemy, since by these means a check would be kept upon his friends. but the duke valentino, having completed this convention, and dispersed his men throughout the romagna, set out for imola at the end of november together with his french men-at-arms: thence he went to cesena, where he stayed some time to negotiate with the envoys of the vitelli and orsini, who had assembled with their men in the duchy of urbino, as to the enterprise in which they should now take part; but nothing being concluded, oliverotto da fermo was sent to propose that if the duke wished to undertake an expedition against tuscany they were ready; if he did not wish it, then they would besiege sinigalia. to this the duke replied that he did not wish to enter into war with tuscany, and thus become hostile to the florentines, but that he was very willing to proceed against sinigalia. it happened that not long afterwards the town surrendered, but the fortress would not yield to them because the castellan would not give it up to any one but the duke in person; therefore they exhorted him to come there. this appeared a good opportunity to the duke, as, being invited by them, and not going of his own will, he would awaken no suspicions. and the more to reassure them, he allowed all the french men-at-arms who were with him in lombardy to depart, except the hundred lancers under mons. di candales, his brother-in-law. he left cesena about the middle of december, and went to fano, and with the utmost cunning and cleverness he persuaded the vitelli and orsini to wait for him at sinigalia, pointing out to them that any lack of compliance would cast a doubt upon the sincerity and permanency of the reconciliation, and that he was a man who wished to make use of the arms and councils of his friends. but vitellozzo remained very stubborn, for the death of his brother warned him that he should not offend a prince and afterwards trust him; nevertheless, persuaded by pagolo orsini, whom the duke had corrupted with gifts and promises, he agreed to wait. upon this the duke, before his departure from fano, which was to be on th december , communicated his designs to eight of his most trusted followers, among whom were don michele and the monsignor d'euna, who was afterwards cardinal; and he ordered that, as soon as vitellozzo, pagolo orsini, the duke di gravina, and oliverotto should arrive, his followers in pairs should take them one by one, entrusting certain men to certain pairs, who should entertain them until they reached sinigalia; nor should they be permitted to leave until they came to the duke's quarters, where they should be seized. the duke afterwards ordered all his horsemen and infantry, of which there were more than two thousand cavalry and ten thousand footmen, to assemble by daybreak at the metauro, a river five miles distant from fano, and await him there. he found himself, therefore, on the last day of december at the metauro with his men, and having sent a cavalcade of about two hundred horsemen before him, he then moved forward the infantry, whom he accompanied with the rest of the men-at-arms. fano and sinigalia are two cities of la marca situated on the shore of the adriatic sea, fifteen miles distant from each other, so that he who goes towards sinigalia has the mountains on his right hand, the bases of which are touched by the sea in some places. the city of sinigalia is distant from the foot of the mountains a little more than a bow-shot and from the shore about a mile. on the side opposite to the city runs a little river which bathes that part of the walls looking towards fano, facing the high road. thus he who draws near to sinigalia comes for a good space by road along the mountains, and reaches the river which passes by sinigalia. if he turns to his left hand along the bank of it, and goes for the distance of a bow-shot, he arrives at a bridge which crosses the river; he is then almost abreast of the gate that leads into sinigalia, not by a straight line, but transversely. before this gate there stands a collection of houses with a square to which the bank of the river forms one side. the vitelli and orsini having received orders to wait for the duke, and to honour him in person, sent away their men to several castles distant from sinigalia about six miles, so that room could be made for the men of the duke; and they left in sinigalia only oliverotto and his band, which consisted of one thousand infantry and one hundred and fifty horsemen, who were quartered in the suburb mentioned above. matters having been thus arranged, the duke valentino left for sinigalia, and when the leaders of the cavalry reached the bridge they did not pass over, but having opened it, one portion wheeled towards the river and the other towards the country, and a way was left in the middle through which the infantry passed, without stopping, into the town. vitellozzo, pagolo, and the duke di gravina on mules, accompanied by a few horsemen, went towards the duke; vitellozo, unarmed and wearing a cape lined with green, appeared very dejected, as if conscious of his approaching death--a circumstance which, in view of the ability of the man and his former fortune, caused some amazement. and it is said that when he parted from his men before setting out for sinigalia to meet the duke he acted as if it were his last parting from them. he recommended his house and its fortunes to his captains, and advised his nephews that it was not the fortune of their house, but the virtues of their fathers that should be kept in mind. these three, therefore, came before the duke and saluted him respectfully, and were received by him with goodwill; they were at once placed between those who were commissioned to look after them. but the duke noticing that oliverotto, who had remained with his band in sinigalia, was missing--for oliverotto was waiting in the square before his quarters near the river, keeping his men in order and drilling them--signalled with his eye to don michelle, to whom the care of oliverotto had been committed, that he should take measures that oliverotto should not escape. therefore don michele rode off and joined oliverotto, telling him that it was not right to keep his men out of their quarters, because these might be taken up by the men of the duke; and he advised him to send them at once to their quarters and to come himself to meet the duke. and oliverotto, having taken this advice, came before the duke, who, when he saw him, called to him; and oliverotto, having made his obeisance, joined the others. so the whole party entered sinigalia, dismounted at the duke's quarters, and went with him into a secret chamber, where the duke made them prisoners; he then mounted on horseback, and issued orders that the men of oliverotto and the orsini should be stripped of their arms. those of oliverotto, being at hand, were quickly settled, but those of the orsini and vitelli, being at a distance, and having a presentiment of the destruction of their masters, had time to prepare themselves, and bearing in mind the valour and discipline of the orsinian and vitellian houses, they stood together against the hostile forces of the country and saved themselves. but the duke's soldiers, not being content with having pillaged the men of oliverotto, began to sack sinigalia, and if the duke had not repressed this outrage by killing some of them they would have completely sacked it. night having come and the tumult being silenced, the duke prepared to kill vitellozzo and oliverotto; he led them into a room and caused them to be strangled. neither of them used words in keeping with their past lives: vitellozzo prayed that he might ask of the pope full pardon for his sins; oliverotto cringed and laid the blame for all injuries against the duke on vitellozzo. pagolo and the duke di gravina orsini were kept alive until the duke heard from rome that the pope had taken the cardinal orsino, the archbishop of florence, and messer jacopo da santa croce. after which news, on th january , in the castle of pieve, they also were strangled in the same way. the life of castruccio castracani of lucca written by nicolo machiavelli and sent to his friends zanobi buondelmonti and luigi alamanni castruccio castracani - it appears, dearest zanobi and luigi, a wonderful thing to those who have considered the matter, that all men, or the larger number of them, who have performed great deeds in the world, and excelled all others in their day, have had their birth and beginning in baseness and obscurity; or have been aggrieved by fortune in some outrageous way. they have either been exposed to the mercy of wild beasts, or they have had so mean a parentage that in shame they have given themselves out to be sons of jove or of some other deity. it would be wearisome to relate who these persons may have been because they are well known to everybody, and, as such tales would not be particularly edifying to those who read them, they are omitted. i believe that these lowly beginnings of great men occur because fortune is desirous of showing to the world that such men owe much to her and little to wisdom, because she begins to show her hand when wisdom can really take no part in their career: thus all success must be attributed to her. castruccio castracani of lucca was one of those men who did great deeds, if he is measured by the times in which he lived and the city in which he was born; but, like many others, he was neither fortunate nor distinguished in his birth, as the course of this history will show. it appeared to be desirable to recall his memory, because i have discerned in him such indications of valour and fortune as should make him a great exemplar to men. i think also that i ought to call your attention to his actions, because you of all men i know delight most in noble deeds. the family of castracani was formerly numbered among the noble families of lucca, but in the days of which i speak it had somewhat fallen in estate, as so often happens in this world. to this family was born a son antonio, who became a priest of the order of san michele of lucca, and for this reason was honoured with the title of messer antonio. he had an only sister, who had been married to buonaccorso cenami, but buonaccorso dying she became a widow, and not wishing to marry again went to live with her brother. messer antonio had a vineyard behind the house where he resided, and as it was bounded on all sides by gardens, any person could have access to it without difficulty. one morning, shortly after sunrise, madonna dianora, as the sister of messer antonio was called, had occasion to go into the vineyard as usual to gather herbs for seasoning the dinner, and hearing a slight rustling among the leaves of a vine she turned her eyes in that direction, and heard something resembling the cry of an infant. whereupon she went towards it, and saw the hands and face of a baby who was lying enveloped in the leaves and who seemed to be crying for its mother. partly wondering and partly fearing, yet full of compassion, she lifted it up and carried it to the house, where she washed it and clothed it with clean linen as is customary, and showed it to messer antonio when he returned home. when he heard what had happened and saw the child he was not less surprised or compassionate than his sister. they discussed between themselves what should be done, and seeing that he was priest and that she had no children, they finally determined to bring it up. they had a nurse for it, and it was reared and loved as if it were their own child. they baptized it, and gave it the name of castruccio after their father. as the years passed castruccio grew very handsome, and gave evidence of wit and discretion, and learnt with a quickness beyond his years those lessons which messer antonio imparted to him. messer antonio intended to make a priest of him, and in time would have inducted him into his canonry and other benefices, and all his instruction was given with this object; but antonio discovered that the character of castruccio was quite unfitted for the priesthood. as soon as castruccio reached the age of fourteen he began to take less notice of the chiding of messer antonio and madonna dianora and no longer to fear them; he left off reading ecclesiastical books, and turned to playing with arms, delighting in nothing so much as in learning their uses, and in running, leaping, and wrestling with other boys. in all exercises he far excelled his companions in courage and bodily strength, and if at any time he did turn to books, only those pleased him which told of wars and the mighty deeds of men. messer antonio beheld all this with vexation and sorrow. there lived in the city of lucca a gentleman of the guinigi family, named messer francesco, whose profession was arms and who in riches, bodily strength, and valour excelled all other men in lucca. he had often fought under the command of the visconti of milan, and as a ghibelline was the valued leader of that party in lucca. this gentleman resided in lucca and was accustomed to assemble with others most mornings and evenings under the balcony of the podesta, which is at the top of the square of san michele, the finest square in lucca, and he had often seen castruccio taking part with other children of the street in those games of which i have spoken. noticing that castruccio far excelled the other boys, and that he appeared to exercise a royal authority over them, and that they loved and obeyed him, messer francesco became greatly desirous of learning who he was. being informed of the circumstances of the bringing up of castruccio he felt a greater desire to have him near to him. therefore he called him one day and asked him whether he would more willingly live in the house of a gentleman, where he would learn to ride horses and use arms, or in the house of a priest, where he would learn nothing but masses and the services of the church. messer francesco could see that it pleased castruccio greatly to hear horses and arms spoken of, even though he stood silent, blushing modestly; but being encouraged by messer francesco to speak, he answered that, if his master were agreeable, nothing would please him more than to give up his priestly studies and take up those of a soldier. this reply delighted messer francesco, and in a very short time he obtained the consent of messer antonio, who was driven to yield by his knowledge of the nature of the lad, and the fear that he would not be able to hold him much longer. thus castruccio passed from the house of messer antonio the priest to the house of messer francesco guinigi the soldier, and it was astonishing to find that in a very short time he manifested all that virtue and bearing which we are accustomed to associate with a true gentleman. in the first place he became an accomplished horseman, and could manage with ease the most fiery charger, and in all jousts and tournaments, although still a youth, he was observed beyond all others, and he excelled in all exercises of strength and dexterity. but what enhanced so much the charm of these accomplishments, was the delightful modesty which enabled him to avoid offence in either act or word to others, for he was deferential to the great men, modest with his equals, and courteous to his inferiors. these gifts made him beloved, not only by all the guinigi family, but by all lucca. when castruccio had reached his eighteenth year, the ghibellines were driven from pavia by the guelphs, and messer francesco was sent by the visconti to assist the ghibellines, and with him went castruccio, in charge of his forces. castruccio gave ample proof of his prudence and courage in this expedition, acquiring greater reputation than any other captain, and his name and fame were known, not only in pavia, but throughout all lombardy. castruccio, having returned to lucca in far higher estimation than he left it, did not omit to use all the means in his power to gain as many friends as he could, neglecting none of those arts which are necessary for that purpose. about this time messer francesco died, leaving a son thirteen years of age named pagolo, and having appointed castruccio to be his son's tutor and administrator of his estate. before he died francesco called castruccio to him, and prayed him to show pagolo that goodwill which he (francesco) had always shown to him, and to render to the son the gratitude which he had not been able to repay to the father. upon the death of francesco, castruccio became the governor and tutor of pagolo, which increased enormously his power and position, and created a certain amount of envy against him in lucca in place of the former universal goodwill, for many men suspected him of harbouring tyrannical intentions. among these the leading man was giorgio degli opizi, the head of the guelph party. this man hoped after the death of messer francesco to become the chief man in lucca, but it seemed to him that castruccio, with the great abilities which he already showed, and holding the position of governor, deprived him of his opportunity; therefore he began to sow those seeds which should rob castruccio of his eminence. castruccio at first treated this with scorn, but afterwards he grew alarmed, thinking that messer giorgio might be able to bring him into disgrace with the deputy of king ruberto of naples and have him driven out of lucca. the lord of pisa at that time was uguccione of the faggiuola of arezzo, who being in the first place elected their captain afterwards became their lord. there resided in paris some exiled ghibellines from lucca, with whom castruccio held communications with the object of effecting their restoration by the help of uguccione. castruccio also brought into his plans friends from lucca who would not endure the authority of the opizi. having fixed upon a plan to be followed, castruccio cautiously fortified the tower of the onesti, filling it with supplies and munitions of war, in order that it might stand a siege for a few days in case of need. when the night came which had been agreed upon with uguccione, who had occupied the plain between the mountains and pisa with many men, the signal was given, and without being observed uguccione approached the gate of san piero and set fire to the portcullis. castruccio raised a great uproar within the city, calling the people to arms and forcing open the gate from his side. uguccione entered with his men, poured through the town, and killed messer giorgio with all his family and many of his friends and supporters. the governor was driven out, and the government reformed according to the wishes of uguccione, to the detriment of the city, because it was found that more than one hundred families were exiled at that time. of those who fled, part went to florence and part to pistoia, which city was the headquarters of the guelph party, and for this reason it became most hostile to uguccione and the lucchese. as it now appeared to the florentines and others of the guelph party that the ghibellines absorbed too much power in tuscany, they determined to restore the exiled guelphs to lucca. they assembled a large army in the val di nievole, and seized montecatini; from thence they marched to montecarlo, in order to secure the free passage into lucca. upon this uguccione assembled his pisan and lucchese forces, and with a number of german cavalry which he drew out of lombardy, he moved against the quarters of the florentines, who upon the appearance of the enemy withdrew from montecarlo, and posted themselves between montecatini and pescia. uguccione now took up a position near to montecarlo, and within about two miles of the enemy, and slight skirmishes between the horse of both parties were of daily occurrence. owing to the illness of uguccione, the pisans and lucchese delayed coming to battle with the enemy. uguccione, finding himself growing worse, went to montecarlo to be cured, and left the command of the army in the hands of castruccio. this change brought about the ruin of the guelphs, who, thinking that the hostile army having lost its captain had lost its head, grew over-confident. castruccio observed this, and allowed some days to pass in order to encourage this belief; he also showed signs of fear, and did not allow any of the munitions of the camp to be used. on the other side, the guelphs grew more insolent the more they saw these evidences of fear, and every day they drew out in the order of battle in front of the army of castruccio. presently, deeming that the enemy was sufficiently emboldened, and having mastered their tactics, he decided to join battle with them. first he spoke a few words of encouragement to his soldiers, and pointed out to them the certainty of victory if they would but obey his commands. castruccio had noticed how the enemy had placed all his best troops in the centre of the line of battle, and his less reliable men on the wings of the army; whereupon he did exactly the opposite, putting his most valiant men on the flanks, while those on whom he could not so strongly rely he moved to the centre. observing this order of battle, he drew out of his lines and quickly came in sight of the hostile army, who, as usual, had come in their insolence to defy him. he then commanded his centre squadrons to march slowly, whilst he moved rapidly forward those on the wings. thus, when they came into contact with the enemy, only the wings of the two armies became engaged, whilst the center battalions remained out of action, for these two portions of the line of battle were separated from each other by a long interval and thus unable to reach each other. by this expedient the more valiant part of castruccio's men were opposed to the weaker part of the enemy's troops, and the most efficient men of the enemy were disengaged; and thus the florentines were unable to fight with those who were arrayed opposite to them, or to give any assistance to their own flanks. so, without much difficulty, castruccio put the enemy to flight on both flanks, and the centre battalions took to flight when they found themselves exposed to attack, without having a chance of displaying their valour. the defeat was complete, and the loss in men very heavy, there being more than ten thousand men killed with many officers and knights of the guelph party in tuscany, and also many princes who had come to help them, among whom were piero, the brother of king ruberto, and carlo, his nephew, and filippo, the lord of taranto. on the part of castruccio the loss did not amount to more than three hundred men, among whom was francesco, the son of uguccione, who, being young and rash, was killed in the first onset. this victory so greatly increased the reputation of castruccio that uguccione conceived some jealousy and suspicion of him, because it appeared to uguccione that this victory had given him no increase of power, but rather than diminished it. being of this mind, he only waited for an opportunity to give effect to it. this occurred on the death of pier agnolo micheli, a man of great repute and abilities in lucca, the murderer of whom fled to the house of castruccio for refuge. on the sergeants of the captain going to arrest the murderer, they were driven off by castruccio, and the murderer escaped. this affair coming to the knowledge of uguccione, who was then at pisa, it appeared to him a proper opportunity to punish castruccio. he therefore sent for his son neri, who was the governor of lucca, and commissioned him to take castruccio prisoner at a banquet and put him to death. castruccio, fearing no evil, went to the governor in a friendly way, was entertained at supper, and then thrown into prison. but neri, fearing to put him to death lest the people should be incensed, kept him alive, in order to hear further from his father concerning his intentions. ugucionne cursed the hesitation and cowardice of his son, and at once set out from pisa to lucca with four hundred horsemen to finish the business in his own way; but he had not yet reached the baths when the pisans rebelled and put his deputy to death and created count gaddo della gherardesca their lord. before uguccione reached lucca he heard of the occurrences at pisa, but it did not appear wise to him to turn back, lest the lucchese with the example of pisa before them should close their gates against him. but the lucchese, having heard of what had happened at pisa, availed themselves of this opportunity to demand the liberation of castruccio, notwithstanding that uguccione had arrived in their city. they first began to speak of it in private circles, afterwards openly in the squares and streets; then they raised a tumult, and with arms in their hands went to uguccione and demanded that castruccio should be set at liberty. uguccione, fearing that worse might happen, released him from prison. whereupon castruccio gathered his friends around him, and with the help of the people attacked uguccione; who, finding he had no resource but in flight, rode away with his friends to lombardy, to the lords of scale, where he died in poverty. but castruccio from being a prisoner became almost a prince in lucca, and he carried himself so discreetly with his friends and the people that they appointed him captain of their army for one year. having obtained this, and wishing to gain renown in war, he planned the recovery of the many towns which had rebelled after the departure of uguccione, and with the help of the pisans, with whom he had concluded a treaty, he marched to serezzana. to capture this place he constructed a fort against it, which is called to-day zerezzanello; in the course of two months castruccio captured the town. with the reputation gained at that siege, he rapidly seized massa, carrara, and lavenza, and in a short time had overrun the whole of lunigiana. in order to close the pass which leads from lombardy to lunigiana, he besieged pontremoli and wrested it from the hands of messer anastagio palavicini, who was the lord of it. after this victory he returned to lucca, and was welcomed by the whole people. and now castruccio, deeming it imprudent any longer to defer making himself a prince, got himself created the lord of lucca by the help of pazzino del poggio, puccinello dal portico, francesco boccansacchi, and cecco guinigi, all of whom he had corrupted; and he was afterwards solemnly and deliberately elected prince by the people. at this time frederick of bavaria, the king of the romans, came into italy to assume the imperial crown, and castruccio, in order that he might make friends with him, met him at the head of five hundred horsemen. castruccio had left as his deputy in lucca, pagolo guinigi, who was held in high estimation, because of the people's love for the memory of his father. castruccio was received in great honour by frederick, and many privileges were conferred upon him, and he was appointed the emperor's lieutenant in tuscany. at this time the pisans were in great fear of gaddo della gherardesca, whom they had driven out of pisa, and they had recourse for assistance to frederick. frederick created castruccio the lord of pisa, and the pisans, in dread of the guelph party, and particularly of the florentines, were constrained to accept him as their lord. frederick, having appointed a governor in rome to watch his italian affairs, returned to germany. all the tuscan and lombardian ghibellines, who followed the imperial lead, had recourse to castruccio for help and counsel, and all promised him the governorship of his country, if enabled to recover it with his assistance. among these exiles were matteo guidi, nardo scolari, lapo uberti, gerozzo nardi, and piero buonaccorsi, all exiled florentines and ghibellines. castruccio had the secret intention of becoming the master of all tuscany by the aid of these men and of his own forces; and in order to gain greater weight in affairs, he entered into a league with messer matteo visconti, the prince of milan, and organized for him the forces of his city and the country districts. as lucca had five gates, he divided his own country districts into five parts, which he supplied with arms, and enrolled the men under captains and ensigns, so that he could quickly bring into the field twenty thousand soldiers, without those whom he could summon to his assistance from pisa. while he surrounded himself with these forces and allies, it happened at messer matteo visconti was attacked by the guelphs of piacenza, who had driven out the ghibellines with the assistance of a florentine army and the king ruberto. messer matteo called upon castruccio to invade the florentines in their own territories, so that, being attacked at home, they should be compelled to draw their army out of lombardy in order to defend themselves. castruccio invaded the valdarno, and seized fucecchio and san miniato, inflicting immense damage upon the country. whereupon the florentines recalled their army, which had scarcely reached tuscany, when castruccio was forced by other necessities to return to lucca. there resided in the city of lucca the poggio family, who were so powerful that they could not only elevate castruccio, but even advance him to the dignity of prince; and it appearing to them they had not received such rewards for their services as they deserved, they incited other families to rebel and to drive castruccio out of lucca. they found their opportunity one morning, and arming themselves, they set upon the lieutenant whom castruccio had left to maintain order and killed him. they endeavoured to raise the people in revolt, but stefano di poggio, a peaceable old man who had taken no hand in the rebellion, intervened and compelled them by his authority to lay down their arms; and he offered to be their mediator with castruccio to obtain from him what they desired. therefore they laid down their arms with no greater intelligence than they had taken them up. castruccio, having heard the news of what had happened at lucca, at once put pagolo guinigi in command of the army, and with a troop of cavalry set out for home. contrary to his expectations, he found the rebellion at an end, yet he posted his men in the most advantageous places throughout the city. as it appeared to stefano that castruccio ought to be very much obliged to him, he sought him out, and without saying anything on his own behalf, for he did not recognize any need for doing so, he begged castruccio to pardon the other members of his family by reason of their youth, their former friendships, and the obligations which castruccio was under to their house. to this castruccio graciously responded, and begged stefano to reassure himself, declaring that it gave him more pleasure to find the tumult at an end than it had ever caused him anxiety to hear of its inception. he encouraged stefano to bring his family to him, saying that he thanked god for having given him the opportunity of showing his clemency and liberality. upon the word of stefano and castruccio they surrendered, and with stefano were immediately thrown into prison and put to death. meanwhile the florentines had recovered san miniato, whereupon it seemed advisable to castruccio to make peace, as it did not appear to him that he was sufficiently secure at lucca to leave him. he approached the florentines with the proposal of a truce, which they readily entertained, for they were weary of the war, and desirous of getting rid of the expenses of it. a treaty was concluded with them for two years, by which both parties agreed to keep the conquests they had made. castruccio thus released from this trouble, turned his attention to affairs in lucca, and in order that he should not again be subject to the perils from which he had just escaped, he, under various pretences and reasons, first wiped out all those who by their ambition might aspire to the principality; not sparing one of them, but depriving them of country and property, and those whom he had in his hands of life also, stating that he had found by experience that none of them were to be trusted. then for his further security he raised a fortress in lucca with the stones of the towers of those whom he had killed or hunted out of the state. whilst castruccio made peace with the florentines, and strengthened his position in lucca, he neglected no opportunity, short of open war, of increasing his importance elsewhere. it appeared to him that if he could get possession of pistoia, he would have one foot in florence, which was his great desire. he, therefore, in various ways made friends with the mountaineers, and worked matters so in pistoia that both parties confided their secrets to him. pistoia was divided, as it always had been, into the bianchi and neri parties; the head of the bianchi was bastiano di possente, and of the neri, jacopo da gia. each of these men held secret communications with castruccio, and each desired to drive the other out of the city; and, after many threatenings, they came to blows. jacopo fortified himself at the florentine gate, bastiano at that of the lucchese side of the city; both trusted more in castruccio than in the florentines, because they believed that castruccio was far more ready and willing to fight than the florentines, and they both sent to him for assistance. he gave promises to both, saying to bastiano that he would come in person, and to jacopo that he would send his pupil, pagolo guinigi. at the appointed time he sent forward pagolo by way of pisa, and went himself direct to pistoia; at midnight both of them met outside the city, and both were admitted as friends. thus the two leaders entered, and at a signal given by castruccio, one killed jacopo da gia, and the other bastiano di possente, and both took prisoners or killed the partisans of either faction. without further opposition pistoia passed into the hands of castruccio, who, having forced the signoria to leave the palace, compelled the people to yield obedience to him, making them many promises and remitting their old debts. the countryside flocked to the city to see the new prince, and all were filled with hope and quickly settled down, influenced in a great measure by his great valour. about this time great disturbances arose in rome, owing to the dearness of living which was caused by the absence of the pontiff at avignon. the german governor, enrico, was much blamed for what happened--murders and tumults following each other daily, without his being able to put an end to them. this caused enrico much anxiety lest the romans should call in ruberto, the king of naples, who would drive the germans out of the city, and bring back the pope. having no nearer friend to whom he could apply for help than castruccio, he sent to him, begging him not only to give him assistance, but also to come in person to rome. castruccio considered that he ought not to hesitate to render the emperor this service, because he believed that he himself would not be safe if at any time the emperor ceased to hold rome. leaving pagolo guinigi in command at lucca, castruccio set out for rome with six hundred horsemen, where he was received by enrico with the greatest distinction. in a short time the presence of castruccio obtained such respect for the emperor that, without bloodshed or violence, good order was restored, chiefly by reason of castruccio having sent by sea from the country round pisa large quantities of corn, and thus removed the source of the trouble. when he had chastised some of the roman leaders, and admonished others, voluntary obedience was rendered to enrico. castruccio received many honours, and was made a roman senator. this dignity was assumed with the greatest pomp, castruccio being clothed in a brocaded toga, which had the following words embroidered on its front: "i am what god wills." whilst on the back was: "what god desires shall be." during this time the florentines, who were much enraged that castruccio should have seized pistoia during the truce, considered how they could tempt the city to rebel, to do which they thought would not be difficult in his absence. among the exiled pistoians in florence were baldo cecchi and jacopo baldini, both men of leading and ready to face danger. these men kept up communications with their friends in pistoia, and with the aid of the florentines entered the city by night, and after driving out some of castruccio's officials and partisans, and killing others, they restored the city to its freedom. the news of this greatly angered castruccio, and taking leave of enrico, he pressed on in great haste to pistoia. when the florentines heard of his return, knowing that he would lose no time, they decided to intercept him with their forces in the val di nievole, under the belief that by doing so they would cut off his road to pistoia. assembling a great army of the supporters of the guelph cause, the florentines entered the pistoian territories. on the other hand, castruccio reached montecarlo with his army; and having heard where the florentines' lay, he decided not to encounter it in the plains of pistoia, nor to await it in the plains of pescia, but, as far as he possibly could, to attack it boldly in the pass of serravalle. he believed that if he succeeded in this design, victory was assured, although he was informed that the florentines had thirty thousand men, whilst he had only twelve thousand. although he had every confidence in his own abilities and the valour of his troops, yet he hesitated to attack his enemy in the open lest he should be overwhelmed by numbers. serravalle is a castle between pescia and pistoia, situated on a hill which blocks the val di nievole, not in the exact pass, but about a bowshot beyond; the pass itself is in places narrow and steep, whilst in general it ascends gently, but is still narrow, especially at the summit where the waters divide, so that twenty men side by side could hold it. the lord of serravalle was manfred, a german, who, before castruccio became lord of pistoia, had been allowed to remain in possession of the castle, it being common to the lucchese and the pistoians, and unclaimed by either--neither of them wishing to displace manfred as long as he kept his promise of neutrality, and came under obligations to no one. for these reasons, and also because the castle was well fortified, he had always been able to maintain his position. it was here that castruccio had determined to fall upon his enemy, for here his few men would have the advantage, and there was no fear lest, seeing the large masses of the hostile force before they became engaged, they should not stand. as soon as this trouble with florence arose, castruccio saw the immense advantage which possession of this castle would give him, and having an intimate friendship with a resident in the castle, he managed matters so with him that four hundred of his men were to be admitted into the castle the night before the attack on the florentines, and the castellan put to death. castruccio, having prepared everything, had now to encourage the florentines to persist in their desire to carry the seat of war away from pistoia into the val di nievole, therefore he did not move his army from montecarlo. thus the florentines hurried on until they reached their encampment under serravalle, intending to cross the hill on the following morning. in the meantime, castruccio had seized the castle at night, had also moved his army from montecarlo, and marching from thence at midnight in dead silence, had reached the foot of serravalle: thus he and the florentines commenced the ascent of the hill at the same time in the morning. castruccio sent forward his infantry by the main road, and a troop of four hundred horsemen by a path on the left towards the castle. the florentines sent forward four hundred cavalry ahead of their army which was following, never expecting to find castruccio in possession of the hill, nor were they aware of his having seized the castle. thus it happened that the florentine horsemen mounting the hill were completely taken by surprise when they discovered the infantry of castruccio, and so close were they upon it they had scarcely time to pull down their visors. it was a case of unready soldiers being attacked by ready, and they were assailed with such vigour that with difficulty they could hold their own, although some few of them got through. when the noise of the fighting reached the florentine camp below, it was filled with confusion. the cavalry and infantry became inextricably mixed: the captains were unable to get their men either backward or forward, owing to the narrowness of the pass, and amid all this tumult no one knew what ought to be done or what could be done. in a short time the cavalry who were engaged with the enemy's infantry were scattered or killed without having made any effective defence because of their unfortunate position, although in sheer desperation they had offered a stout resistance. retreat had been impossible, with the mountains on both flanks, whilst in front were their enemies, and in the rear their friends. when castruccio saw that his men were unable to strike a decisive blow at the enemy and put them to flight, he sent one thousand infantrymen round by the castle, with orders to join the four hundred horsemen he had previously dispatched there, and commanded the whole force to fall upon the flank of the enemy. these orders they carried out with such fury that the florentines could not sustain the attack, but gave way, and were soon in full retreat--conquered more by their unfortunate position than by the valour of their enemy. those in the rear turned towards pistoia, and spread through the plains, each man seeking only his own safety. the defeat was complete and very sanguinary. many captains were taken prisoners, among whom were bandini dei rossi, francesco brunelleschi, and giovanni della tosa, all florentine noblemen, with many tuscans and neapolitans who fought on the florentine side, having been sent by king ruberto to assist the guelphs. immediately the pistoians heard of this defeat they drove out the friends of the guelphs, and surrendered to castruccio. he was not content with occupying prato and all the castles on the plains on both sides of the arno, but marched his army into the plain of peretola, about two miles from florence. here he remained many days, dividing the spoils, and celebrating his victory with feasts and games, holding horse races, and foot races for men and women. he also struck medals in commemoration of the defeat of the florentines. he endeavoured to corrupt some of the citizens of florence, who were to open the city gates at night; but the conspiracy was discovered, and the participators in it taken and beheaded, among whom were tommaso lupacci and lambertuccio frescobaldi. this defeat caused the florentines great anxiety, and despairing of preserving their liberty, they sent envoys to king ruberto of naples, offering him the dominion of their city; and he, knowing of what immense importance the maintenance of the guelph cause was to him, accepted it. he agreed with the florentines to receive from them a yearly tribute of two hundred thousand florins, and he sent his son carlo to florence with four thousand horsemen. shortly after this the florentines were relieved in some degree of the pressure of castruccio's army, owing to his being compelled to leave his positions before florence and march on pisa, in order to suppress a conspiracy that had been raised against him by benedetto lanfranchi, one of the first men in pisa, who could not endure that his fatherland should be under the dominion of the lucchese. he had formed this conspiracy, intending to seize the citadel, kill the partisans of castruccio, and drive out the garrison. as, however, in a conspiracy paucity of numbers is essential to secrecy, so for its execution a few are not sufficient, and in seeking more adherents to his conspiracy lanfranchi encountered a person who revealed the design to castruccio. this betrayal cannot be passed by without severe reproach to bonifacio cerchi and giovanni guidi, two florentine exiles who were suffering their banishment in pisa. thereupon castruccio seized benedetto and put him to death, and beheaded many other noble citizens, and drove their families into exile. it now appeared to castruccio that both pisa and pistoia were thoroughly disaffected; he employed much thought and energy upon securing his position there, and this gave the florentines their opportunity to reorganize their army, and to await the coming of carlo, the son of the king of naples. when carlo arrived they decided to lose no more time, and assembled a great army of more than thirty thousand infantry and ten thousand cavalry--having called to their aid every guelph there was in italy. they consulted whether they should attack pistoia or pisa first, and decided that it would be better to march on the latter--a course, owing to the recent conspiracy, more likely to succeed, and of more advantage to them, because they believed that the surrender of pistoia would follow the acquisition of pisa. in the early part of may , the florentines put in motion this army and quickly occupied lastra, signa, montelupo, and empoli, passing from thence on to san miniato. when castruccio heard of the enormous army which the florentines were sending against him, he was in no degree alarmed, believing that the time had now arrived when fortune would deliver the empire of tuscany into his hands, for he had no reason to think that his enemy would make a better fight, or had better prospects of success, than at pisa or serravalle. he assembled twenty thousand foot soldiers and four thousand horsemen, and with this army went to fucecchio, whilst he sent pagolo guinigi to pisa with five thousand infantry. fucecchio has a stronger position than any other town in the pisan district, owing to its situation between the rivers arno and gusciana and its slight elevation above the surrounding plain. moreover, the enemy could not hinder its being victualled unless they divided their forces, nor could they approach it either from the direction of lucca or pisa, nor could they get through to pisa, or attack castruccio's forces except at a disadvantage. in one case they would find themselves placed between his two armies, the one under his own command and the other under pagolo, and in the other case they would have to cross the arno to get to close quarters with the enemy, an undertaking of great hazard. in order to tempt the florentines to take this latter course, castruccio withdrew his men from the banks of the river and placed them under the walls of fucecchio, leaving a wide expanse of land between them and the river. the florentines, having occupied san miniato, held a council of war to decide whether they should attack pisa or the army of castruccio, and, having weighed the difficulties of both courses, they decided upon the latter. the river arno was at that time low enough to be fordable, yet the water reached to the shoulders of the infantrymen and to the saddles of the horsemen. on the morning of june , the florentines commenced the battle by ordering forward a number of cavalry and ten thousand infantry. castruccio, whose plan of action was fixed, and who well knew what to do, at once attacked the florentines with five thousand infantry and three thousand horsemen, not allowing them to issue from the river before he charged them; he also sent one thousand light infantry up the river bank, and the same number down the arno. the infantry of the florentines were so much impeded by their arms and the water that they were not able to mount the banks of the river, whilst the cavalry had made the passage of the river more difficult for the others, by reason of the few who had crossed having broken up the bed of the river, and this being deep with mud, many of the horses rolled over with their riders and many of them had stuck so fast that they could not move. when the florentine captains saw the difficulties their men were meeting, they withdrew them and moved higher up the river, hoping to find the river bed less treacherous and the banks more adapted for landing. these men were met at the bank by the forces which castruccio had already sent forward, who, being light armed with bucklers and javelins in their hands, let fly with tremendous shouts into the faces and bodies of the cavalry. the horses, alarmed by the noise and the wounds, would not move forward, and trampled each other in great confusion. the fight between the men of castruccio and those of the enemy who succeeded in crossing was sharp and terrible; both sides fought with the utmost desperation and neither would yield. the soldiers of castruccio fought to drive the others back into the river, whilst the florentines strove to get a footing on land in order to make room for the others pressing forward, who if they could but get out of the water would be able to fight, and in this obstinate conflict they were urged on by their captains. castruccio shouted to his men that these were the same enemies whom they had before conquered at serravalle, whilst the florentines reproached each other that the many should be overcome by the few. at length castruccio, seeing how long the battle had lasted, and that both his men and the enemy were utterly exhausted, and that both sides had many killed and wounded, pushed forward another body of infantry to take up a position at the rear of those who were fighting; he then commanded these latter to open their ranks as if they intended to retreat, and one part of them to turn to the right and another to the left. this cleared a space of which the florentines at once took advantage, and thus gained possession of a portion of the battlefield. but when these tired soldiers found themselves at close quarters with castruccio's reserves they could not stand against them and at once fell back into the river. the cavalry of either side had not as yet gained any decisive advantage over the other, because castruccio, knowing his inferiority in this arm, had commanded his leaders only to stand on the defensive against the attacks of their adversaries, as he hoped that when he had overcome the infantry he would be able to make short work of the cavalry. this fell out as he had hoped, for when he saw the florentine army driven back across the river he ordered the remainder of his infantry to attack the cavalry of the enemy. this they did with lance and javelin, and, joined by their own cavalry, fell upon the enemy with the greatest fury and soon put him to flight. the florentine captains, having seen the difficulty their cavalry had met with in crossing the river, had attempted to make their infantry cross lower down the river, in order to attack the flanks of castruccio's army. but here, also, the banks were steep and already lined by the men of castruccio, and this movement was quite useless. thus the florentines were so completely defeated at all points that scarcely a third of them escaped, and castruccio was again covered with glory. many captains were taken prisoners, and carlo, the son of king ruberto, with michelagnolo falconi and taddeo degli albizzi, the florentine commissioners, fled to empoli. if the spoils were great, the slaughter was infinitely greater, as might be expected in such a battle. of the florentines there fell twenty thousand two hundred and thirty-one men, whilst castruccio lost one thousand five hundred and seventy men. but fortune growing envious of the glory of castruccio took away his life just at the time when she should have preserved it, and thus ruined all those plans which for so long a time he had worked to carry into effect, and in the successful prosecution of which nothing but death could have stopped him. castruccio was in the thick of the battle the whole of the day; and when the end of it came, although fatigued and overheated, he stood at the gate of fucecchio to welcome his men on their return from victory and personally thank them. he was also on the watch for any attempt of the enemy to retrieve the fortunes of the day; he being of the opinion that it was the duty of a good general to be the first man in the saddle and the last out of it. here castruccio stood exposed to a wind which often rises at midday on the banks of the arno, and which is often very unhealthy; from this he took a chill, of which he thought nothing, as he was accustomed to such troubles; but it was the cause of his death. on the following night he was attacked with high fever, which increased so rapidly that the doctors saw it must prove fatal. castruccio, therefore, called pagolo guinigi to him, and addressed him as follows: "if i could have believed that fortune would have cut me off in the midst of the career which was leading to that glory which all my successes promised, i should have laboured less, and i should have left thee, if a smaller state, at least with fewer enemies and perils, because i should have been content with the governorships of lucca and pisa. i should neither have subjugated the pistoians, nor outraged the florentines with so many injuries. but i would have made both these peoples my friends, and i should have lived, if no longer, at least more peacefully, and have left you a state without a doubt smaller, but one more secure and established on a surer foundation. but fortune, who insists upon having the arbitrament of human affairs, did not endow me with sufficient judgment to recognize this from the first, nor the time to surmount it. thou hast heard, for many have told thee, and i have never concealed it, how i entered the house of thy father whilst yet a boy--a stranger to all those ambitions which every generous soul should feel--and how i was brought up by him, and loved as though i had been born of his blood; how under his governance i learned to be valiant and capable of availing myself of all that fortune, of which thou hast been witness. when thy good father came to die, he committed thee and all his possessions to my care, and i have brought thee up with that love, and increased thy estate with that care, which i was bound to show. and in order that thou shouldst not only possess the estate which thy father left, but also that which my fortune and abilities have gained, i have never married, so that the love of children should never deflect my mind from that gratitude which i owed to the children of thy father. thus i leave thee a vast estate, of which i am well content, but i am deeply concerned, inasmuch as i leave it thee unsettled and insecure. thou hast the city of lucca on thy hands, which will never rest contented under thy government. thou hast also pisa, where the men are of nature changeable and unreliable, who, although they may be sometimes held in subjection, yet they will ever disdain to serve under a lucchese. pistoia is also disloyal to thee, she being eaten up with factions and deeply incensed against thy family by reason of the wrongs recently inflicted upon them. thou hast for neighbours the offended florentines, injured by us in a thousand ways, but not utterly destroyed, who will hail the news of my death with more delight than they would the acquisition of all tuscany. in the emperor and in the princes of milan thou canst place no reliance, for they are far distant, slow, and their help is very long in coming. therefore, thou hast no hope in anything but in thine own abilities, and in the memory of my valour, and in the prestige which this latest victory has brought thee; which, as thou knowest how to use it with prudence, will assist thee to come to terms with the florentines, who, as they are suffering under this great defeat, should be inclined to listen to thee. and whereas i have sought to make them my enemies, because i believed that war with them would conduce to my power and glory, thou hast every inducement to make friends of them, because their alliance will bring thee advantages and security. it is of the greatest important in this world that a man should know himself, and the measure of his own strength and means; and he who knows that he has not a genius for fighting must learn how to govern by the arts of peace. and it will be well for thee to rule thy conduct by my counsel, and to learn in this way to enjoy what my life-work and dangers have gained; and in this thou wilt easily succeed when thou hast learnt to believe that what i have told thee is true. and thou wilt be doubly indebted to me, in that i have left thee this realm and have taught thee how to keep it." after this there came to castruccio those citizens of pisa, pistoia, and lucca, who had been fighting at his side, and whilst recommending pagolo to them, and making them swear obedience to him as his successor, he died. he left a happy memory to those who had known him, and no prince of those times was ever loved with such devotion as he was. his obsequies were celebrated with every sign of mourning, and he was buried in san francesco at lucca. fortune was not so friendly to pagolo guinigi as she had been to castruccio, for he had not the abilities. not long after the death of castruccio, pagolo lost pisa, and then pistoia, and only with difficulty held on to lucca. this latter city continued in the family of guinigi until the time of the great-grandson of pagolo. from what has been related here it will be seen that castruccio was a man of exceptional abilities, not only measured by men of his own time, but also by those of an earlier date. in stature he was above the ordinary height, and perfectly proportioned. he was of a gracious presence, and he welcomed men with such urbanity that those who spoke with him rarely left him displeased. his hair was inclined to be red, and he wore it cut short above the ears, and, whether it rained or snowed, he always went without a hat. he was delightful among friends, but terrible to his enemies; just to his subjects; ready to play false with the unfaithful, and willing to overcome by fraud those whom he desired to subdue, because he was wont to say that it was the victory that brought the glory, not the methods of achieving it. no one was bolder in facing danger, none more prudent in extricating himself. he was accustomed to say that men ought to attempt everything and fear nothing; that god is a lover of strong men, because one always sees that the weak are chastised by the strong. he was also wonderfully sharp or biting though courteous in his answers; and as he did not look for any indulgence in this way of speaking from others, so he was not angered with others did not show it to him. it has often happened that he has listened quietly when others have spoken sharply to him, as on the following occasions. he had caused a ducat to be given for a partridge, and was taken to task for doing so by a friend, to whom castruccio had said: "you would not have given more than a penny." "that is true," answered the friend. then said castruccio to him: "a ducat is much less to me." having about him a flatterer on whom he had spat to show that he scorned him, the flatterer said to him: "fisherman are willing to let the waters of the sea saturate them in order that they may take a few little fishes, and i allow myself to be wetted by spittle that i may catch a whale"; and this was not only heard by castruccio with patience but rewarded. when told by a priest that it was wicked for him to live so sumptuously, castruccio said: "if that be a vice then you should not fare so splendidly at the feasts of our saints." passing through a street he saw a young man as he came out of a house of ill fame blush at being seen by castruccio, and said to him: "thou shouldst not be ashamed when thou comest out, but when thou goest into such places." a friend gave him a very curiously tied knot to undo and was told: "fool, do you think that i wish to untie a thing which gave so much trouble to fasten." castruccio said to one who professed to be a philosopher: "you are like the dogs who always run after those who will give them the best to eat," and was answered: "we are rather like the doctors who go to the houses of those who have the greatest need of them." going by water from pisa to leghorn, castruccio was much disturbed by a dangerous storm that sprang up, and was reproached for cowardice by one of those with him, who said that he did not fear anything. castruccio answered that he did not wonder at that, since every man valued his soul for what is was worth. being asked by one what he ought to do to gain estimation, he said: "when thou goest to a banquet take care that thou dost not seat one piece of wood upon another." to a person who was boasting that he had read many things, castruccio said: "he knows better than to boast of remembering many things." someone bragged that he could drink much without becoming intoxicated. castruccio replied: "an ox does the same." castruccio was acquainted with a girl with whom he had intimate relations, and being blamed by a friend who told him that it was undignified for him to be taken in by a woman, he said: "she has not taken me in, i have taken her." being also blamed for eating very dainty foods, he answered: "thou dost not spend as much as i do?" and being told that it was true, he continued: "then thou art more avaricious than i am gluttonous." being invited by taddeo bernardi, a very rich and splendid citizen of luca, to supper, he went to the house and was shown by taddeo into a chamber hung with silk and paved with fine stones representing flowers and foliage of the most beautiful colouring. castruccio gathered some saliva in his mouth and spat it out upon taddeo, and seeing him much disturbed by this, said to him: "i knew not where to spit in order to offend thee less." being asked how caesar died he said: "god willing i will die as he did." being one night in the house of one of his gentlemen where many ladies were assembled, he was reproved by one of his friends for dancing and amusing himself with them more than was usual in one of his station, so he said: "he who is considered wise by day will not be considered a fool at night." a person came to demand a favour of castruccio, and thinking he was not listening to his plea threw himself on his knees to the ground, and being sharply reproved by castruccio, said: "thou art the reason of my acting thus for thou hast thy ears in thy feet," whereupon he obtained double the favour he had asked. castruccio used to say that the way to hell was an easy one, seeing that it was in a downward direction and you travelled blindfolded. being asked a favour by one who used many superfluous words, he said to him: "when you have another request to make, send someone else to make it." having been wearied by a similar man with a long oration who wound up by saying: "perhaps i have fatigued you by speaking so long," castruccio said: "you have not, because i have not listened to a word you said." he used to say of one who had been a beautiful child and who afterwards became a fine man, that he was dangerous, because he first took the husbands from the wives and now he took the wives from their husbands. to an envious man who laughed, he said: "do you laugh because you are successful or because another is unfortunate?" whilst he was still in the charge of messer francesco guinigi, one of his companions said to him: "what shall i give you if you will let me give you a blow on the nose?" castruccio answered: "a helmet." having put to death a citizen of lucca who had been instrumental in raising him to power, and being told that he had done wrong to kill one of his old friends, he answered that people deceived themselves; he had only killed a new enemy. castruccio praised greatly those men who intended to take a wife and then did not do so, saying that they were like men who said they would go to sea, and then refused when the time came. he said that it always struck him with surprise that whilst men in buying an earthen or glass vase would sound it first to learn if it were good, yet in choosing a wife they were content with only looking at her. he was once asked in what manner he would wish to be buried when he died, and answered: "with the face turned downwards, for i know when i am gone this country will be turned upside down." on being asked if it had ever occurred to him to become a friar in order to save his soul, he answered that it had not, because it appeared strange to him that fra lazerone should go to paradise and uguccione della faggiuola to the inferno. he was once asked when should a man eat to preserve his health, and replied: "if the man be rich let him eat when he is hungry; if he be poor, then when he can." seeing one of his gentlemen make a member of his family lace him up, he said to him: "i pray god that you will let him feed you also." seeing that someone had written upon his house in latin the words: "may god preserve this house from the wicked," he said, "the owner must never go in." passing through one of the streets he saw a small house with a very large door, and remarked: "that house will fly through the door." he was having a discussion with the ambassador of the king of naples concerning the property of some banished nobles, when a dispute arose between them, and the ambassador asked him if he had no fear of the king. "is this king of yours a bad man or a good one?" asked castruccio, and was told that he was a good one, whereupon he said, "why should you suggest that i should be afraid of a good man?" i could recount many other stories of his sayings both witty and weighty, but i think that the above will be sufficient testimony to his high qualities. he lived forty-four years, and was in every way a prince. and as he was surrounded by many evidences of his good fortune, so he also desired to have near him some memorials of his bad fortune; therefore the manacles with which he was chained in prison are to be seen to this day fixed up in the tower of his residence, where they were placed by him to testify forever to his days of adversity. as in his life he was inferior neither to philip of macedon, the father of alexander, nor to scipio of rome, so he died in the same year of his age as they did, and he would doubtless have excelled both of them had fortune decreed that he should be born, not in lucca, but in macedonia or rome. images of public domain material from the google books project.) the most bitter foe of nations, and the way to its permanent overthrow. an address, delivered before the phi beta kappa society, at yale college, july , , by andrew d. white. new haven: thomas h. pease, chapel street. t. j. stafford, printer. . new haven, _july , _. dear sir, the undersigned have been appointed by the phi beta kappa society a committee to render you the cordial thanks of the society for your admirable address, delivered last evening, and to request a copy for the press. respectfully and truly yours, a. c. twining, g. p. fisher. professor white. state of new york, _senate chamber_, _albany, aug. th, _. gentlemen, accept my thanks for the very kind expressions regarding the address which, in accordance with the request conveyed by you, i forward herewith. with great respect, very truly yours, a. d. white. professors a. c. twining and g. p. fisher. address. in this sacred struggle and battle of so many hundred years,--this weary struggle of truths to be recognized,--this desperate battle of rights to be allowed;--in this long, broad current toward more truth and more right, in which are seen the hands of so many good and bad and indifferent men,--and in the midst of all, and surrounding all, the hand of very god,--what political institution has been most vigorous against this current,--what political system has been most noxious to political truth and right?--in short, what foe, in every land, have right and liberty found it hardest to fight or outwit? is it ecclesiasticism?--is it despotism?--is it aristocracy?--is it democracy? the time allotted me this evening i shall devote to maintaining the following thesis: of all systems and institutions, the most vigorous in battling liberty,--the most noxious in adulterating right,--the most corrosive in eating out nationality, has been an aristocracy based upon habits or traditions of oppression. i shall also attempt to deduce from the proofs of this a corollary, showing _the only way in which such an aristocracy ever has been or ever can be fought successfully and put down permanently_. let me first give this thesis precision. i do not say that aristocracy, based upon habits and traditions of oppression, is the foe which takes deepest hold;--despotism and ecclesiasticism are dragons which get their claws far deeper into the body politic;--for despotism clutches more temporal, and ecclesiasticism more eternal interests. nor do i say that aristocracy is the enemy most difficult to find and come at. demoralization in democracy is harder to find and come at; for demoralization in democracy is a disease, and lurks,--aristocracy is a foe, and stands forth--bold; demoralization is latent, and political doctors disagree about it,--aristocracy is patent, and men of average sense soon agree about it. but the statement is that aristocracy, based upon oppression, is, of all foes to liberty the most vigorous, of all foes to rights the most noxious, and of all foes to nationality the most corrosive. other battles may be longer;--but the battle with aristocracy is the sharpest which a nation can be called upon to wage,--and as a nation uses its strength during the contest--and _as it uses its wits after the contest_--so shall you find its whole national life a success or a failure. for my proofs i shall not start with _a priori_ reasoning:--that shall come in as it is needed in the examination of historical facts. you shall have the simple, accurate presentation of facts from history--and plain reasoning upon these facts--and from ancient history, rich as it is in proofs, i will draw nothing!--all shall be drawn from the history of modern states--the history of men living under the influence of great religious and political ideas which are active to-day--and among ourselves. foremost among the examples of the normal working of an aristocracy based upon the subjection of a class, i name spain. i name her first--not as the most striking example, but as one of those in which the evil grew most naturally, and went through its various noxious phases most regularly. the fabric of spanish nationality had much strength and much beauty. the mixture of the barbarian element with the roman, after the roman downfall, was probably happier there than in any other part of europe. the visigoths gave spain the best of all the barbaric codes. guizot has shown how,[ ] as by inspiration, some of the most advanced ideas of modern enlightened codes were incorporated into it. the succeeding history of the spanish nation was also, in its main sweep, fortunate. there were ages of endurance which toughened the growing nation,--battles for right which ennobled it;--disasters which compacted manliness and squeezed out effeminacy. this character took shape in goodly institutions. the city growth helped the growth of liberty, not less in spain than in her sister nations. cities and towns became not merely centres of prosperity, but guardians of freedom.[ ] then came, perhaps, the finest growth of free institutions in mediæval europe. the cortes of castile was a representative body nearly a hundred years before simon de montfort laid the foundations of english parliamentary representation at leicester.[ ] the commons of arragon had gained yet greater privileges earlier. statesmen sat in these--statesmen who devised curbs for monarchs, and forced monarchs to wear them. the dispensing power was claimed at an early day by spanish kings as by kings of england;--but hallam acknowledges[ ] that the spaniards made a better fight against this despotic claim than did the english. the spanish established the constitutional principle that the king cannot dispense with statutes centuries before the english established it by the final overthrow of the stuarts. many sturdy maxims, generally accounted fruit of that early english boldness for liberty, are of that earlier spanish period. "no taxation without representation" was a principle asserted in castile early, often and to good purpose. in arragon no war could be declared,--no peace made,--no money coined without consent of the cortes.[ ] the "great privilege of saragossa" gave quite as many, and quite as important liberties to arragon as were wrested from king john for england in the same century. such is a meagre sketch of the development of society at large. as regards the other development which goes to produce civilization--the development of individual character, the spanish peninsula was not less distinguished. in its line of monarchs were ferdinand iii., alfonso x., james ii., and isabella;--in its line of statesmen were ximenes and cisneros--worthy predecessors of that most daring of all modern statesmen, alberoni. the nation rejoiced too in a noble line of poets and men of letters.[ ] still more important than these brilliant exceptions was the tone of the people at large. they were tough and manly.[ ] no doubt there were grave national faults. pride--national and individual--constantly endangered quiet. blind submission to ecclesiastical authority was also a fearful source of evil! yet, despite these, it is impossible not to be convinced, on a careful reading of spanish history, that the influence which tore apart states,--which undermined good institutions,--which defeated justice,--which disheartened effort,--which prevented resistance to encroachments of ecclesiasticism and despotism--nay, which made such encroachments a _necessity_--came from the _nobility_. the spanish nobility had risen and become strong in those long wars against the intruding moors,--they had gained additional strength in the wars between provinces. they soon manifested necessary characteristics. they kept castile in confusion by their dissensions,--they kept arragon in confusion by their anti-governmental unions. accustomed to lord it over inferiors, they could brook no opposition,--hence all their influence was anarchic; accustomed to no profitable labor of any sort, their influence was for laziness and wastefulness;--accustomed to look on public matters as their monopoly, they devoted themselves to conjuring up phantoms of injuries and insults, and plotting to avenge them. every aristocracy passes through one, and most aristocracies through both of two historic phases. the first may be called the _vitriolic_,--the period of intense, biting, corrosive activity,--the period in which it gnaws fiercely into all institutions with which it comes into contact,--the period in which it decomposes all elements of nationality. in spain this first period was early developed and long continued. grandees and nobles bit and cut their way into the legislative system,--by brute force, too, they crushed their way through the judicial system,--by judicious mixtures of cheating and bullying they often controlled the executive system. chapter after chapter of mariana's history begins with the story of their turbulence, and ends with the story of its sad results;--how the nobles seized king james of arragon;--how the lara family usurped the government of castile;--how the houses of lara, haro, castro and their peers are constantly concocting some plot, or doing some act to overthrow all governmental stability. but their warfare was not merely upon government and upon each other;--it was upon the people at large. out from their midst comes a constant voice of indignant petitions. these are not merely petitions from serfs. no! history written in stately style has given small place to their cries;--but the great flood of petitions and remonstrances comes from the substantial middle class, who saw this domineering upper class trampling out every germ of commercial and manufacturing prosperity. such was the current of spanish history. i now single out certain aristocratic characteristics bedded in it which made its flow so turbulent. foremost of these was that first and most fatal characteristic of all aristocracies based on oppression--_the erection of a substitute for patriotism_. devotion to caste, in such circumstances, always eats out love of country. a nobility often fight for their country--often die for it;--but in any supreme national emergency,--at any moment of moments in national history the rule is that you are sure to find them asking--not "what is my duty to my country?" but "_what is my duty to my order?_" every crisis in spanish history shows this characteristic,--take one example to show the strength of it. charles the fifth was the most terrible of all monarchic foes to the old spanish institutions. the nobles disliked him for this. they also disliked him still more as a foreigner. most of all they disliked him because the tools he used in overturning spain were foreigners. against this detested policy the cities of the kingdom planned a policy thoughtful and effectual. cardinal cisneros favored it,--the only thing needed was the conjunction of the nobles. they seemed favorable--but at the supreme moment they wavered. the interest of the country was clear;--but _how as to the interests of their order_? they began by fearing encroachments of the people;--they ended by becoming traitors, allowed the battle of villalar to be lost--and with it the last chance of curbing their most terrible enemy.[ ] another characteristic was _the development of a substitute for political morality_. these nobles were brave. the chronicles gave them plentiful supply of chivalric maxims, and they carried these out into chivalric practices. their quickness in throwing about them the robes of chivalry was only excelled by their quickness in throwing off the garb of ordinary political morality. they could die for an idea, yet we constantly see among them acts of bad faith--petty and large--only befitting savages. john alonzo de la cerda, by the will of the late king, had been deprived of a certain office; he therefore betrays the stronghold of myorga to the new king's enemies.[ ] don alonzo de lara had caused great distress by his turbulence. queen berengaria writes an account of it to the king. don alonzo does not scruple to waylay the messenger, murder him, and substitute for the true message a forgery, containing an order in the queen's hand for the king's murder.[ ] of such warp and woof is the history of the spanish aristocracy--the history of nobles whose boast was their chivalry. how is this to be accounted for? mainly by the fact, i think, that the pride engendered by lording it over a subject class lifts men above ordinary morality. if commonplace truth and vulgar good faith fetter that morbid will-power which serf-owning gives, truth and good faith must be rent asunder. the next characteristic was _the erection of a theory of easy treason and perpetual anarchy_. prescott calls this whimsical; he might more justly have called it frightful. for this theory, which they asserted, maintained, and finally brought into the national notion and custom was, that in case they were aggrieved--_themselves being judges_--they could renounce their allegiance, join the bitterest foes of king and nation,--plot and fight against their country,--deluge the land in blood,--deplete the treasury; and yet that the king should take care of the families they left behind, and in other ways make treason pastime. spanish history is black with the consequences of this theory. mariana drops a casual expression in his history which shows the natural result, when he says: "the castro family were _much in the habit_ of revolting and going over to the moors."[ ] the absurdity of this theory was only equaled by its iniquity. for it involved three ideas absolutely fatal to any state--_the right of peaceable secession--the right of judging in their own cause, and the right of committing treason with impunity_. now, any nation which does not, when stung by such a theory, throttle it, and stamp the life out of it, is doomed. spain did not grapple with it. she tampered with it, truckled to it, compromised with it. this nursed another characteristic in her nobility, which is sure to be developed always under like circumstances. this characteristic was _an aristocratic inability to appreciate concessions_. the ordinary sort of poor statesmanship which afflicts this world generally meets the assumptions and treasons of a man-mastering caste by concessions. the commercial and manufacturing classes love peace and applaud concessions. but concessions only make matters worse. concessions to a caste, based upon traditions of oppression, are but fuel to fire. the more privileges are given, the higher blazes its pride, and pride is one of the greatest causes of its noxious activity. concessions to such a caste are sure to be received as tributes to its superiority. such concessions are regarded by it not as favors but as rights, and no man ever owed gratitude for a right. there remained then but one way of dealing with it,--that was by overwhelming force; and at the end of the fifteenth century that force appeared. the encroachments upon regular central government produced the same results in spain as in the rest of europe at about the same time. to one not acquainted with previous history, but looking thoughtfully at the fifteenth century, it must seem strange that just at that time--as by a simultaneous and spontaneous movement--almost every nation in europe consolidated power in the hands of a monarch. in france, in england, in italy, as well as in spain, you see institutions, liberties, franchises, boundaries sacrificed freely to establish despotism. you see henry vii. in england, louis xi. in france, charles v., a little later, in germany and italy, ferdinand and isabella in spain--almost all utterly unlovely and unloved--allowed to build up despotisms in all cases severe, and in most cases cruel. why? because the serf-owning caste had become utterly unbearable; because one tyrant is better than a thousand. then the spanish nobility went into the next phase. ferdinand, charles the fifth, philip the second--three of the harshest tyrants known to history,--having crushed out the boldness and enterprise of the aristocracy it passed from what i have called the _vitriolic_ into what might be called the _narcotic period_. a period this was in which the noble became an agent in stimulating all evil tendencies in the monarch, and in stupefying all good tendencies in the people. the caste spirit was a drug infused into the body politic, rendering inert all its powers for good. did charles the fifth insult and depose ximenes,--the nation sleepily permitted it; did philip the second lay bigot plans which brought the kingdom to ruin,--the nation lazily fawned upon him for it;[ ] did philip iii. and his successors allow the nation to sink into contempt,--there was no voice to raise it. do you say that this resulted from ecclesiasticism? i answer that the main reason why ecclesiasticism became so strong was because it sheltered the lower class from the exactions of the aristocracy. do you say that it resulted from despotism? i answer that despotism became absolute in order to save the nation from the turbulence of the aristocracy.[ ] no single despotism, either in church or state, could by itself have broken that well-knit system of old spanish liberties. it was the growth of an oppressive caste, who by their spirit of disunion made despotism possible, and by their spirit of turbulence made it necessary. the next nation in which i would show the working of a caste with traditions of oppression is italy. man-owners had cost italy dear already. roman serf-culture had withered all prosperity in the country; slave service had eaten out all manliness from the city. it is one of the most pregnant facts in history, and one which, so far as i know, has never been noted, that whereas the multitude who have written upon the subject have assigned innumerable causes for the decline and downfall of the roman nation, _not one of any note has failed to name, as a cause, roman slavery_. as to other causes they disagree--on this alone all agree. the philosophers montesquieu[ ] and gibbon,[ ] the economist sismondi,[ ] the _doctrinaire_ guizot,[ ] the republican michelet,[ ] the eclectic schlosser,[ ] high tory alison,[ ] moderate merivale,[ ] democrat bancroft,[ ] _quasi_ conservative, _quasi_ liberal charles kingsley,[ ] wide apart as the poles on all else, agree to name as a cause of roman ruin the system of forced labor. but after the roman downfall the straggle of italy with her upper caste seems singularly fortunate. at an early day her cities by commerce became rich and strong. then in the natural course of things--first, free ideas, next, free institutions, next, war upon the nobles to make them respect these ideas and institutions. the war of municipalities against nobles was successful. elsewhere in europe cities sheltered themselves behind lords; in italy lords sheltered themselves in cities. elsewhere the lord dwelt in the castle _above_ the city; in italy the lord was forced to dwell in his palace _within_ the city.[ ] the victory of freedom seemed complete. the italian republics were triumphant; the nobility were, to all appearance, subdued. but those republics made a fearful mistake. they had a great chance to destroy caste and lost it. they allowed the old caste spirit to remain, and that evil leaven soon renewed its work. the republics showed generalship in war, but in peace they were outwitted. first, the nobles insisted on pretended rights within the city, and stirred perpetual civil war to make these rights good.[ ] beaten at this they had yet a worse influence. those great free cities would not indeed allow the nobles to indulge in private wars, but gradually the cities caught the infection from the nobles. the cities caught their aristocratic spirit of jealousy,--took nobles as leaders,--ran into their modes of plotting and fighting, and what i have called the _vitriolic_ period set in. undoubtedly some of this propensity came from other causes, but the main cause was this domineering aristocracy in its midst, giving tone to its ideas. free cities in other parts of europe disliked each other,--a few fought each other,--but none with a tithe of the insane hate and rage shown by the city republics of italy.[ ] hence arose that political product sure to rise in every nation where an aristocracy shape policy, the _spirit of disunion_. its curse has been upon italy for five hundred years. dante felt it when he sketched the torments of riniero of corneto and riniero pazzo,[ ] and the woes brought on florence by the feuds of the neri and bianchi.[ ] sismondi felt it when his thoughts of italian disunion wrung from his liberty-loving heart a longing for despotism.[ ] all italy felt it when genoa, in these last years, solemnly restored to pisa the trophies gained in those old civil wars, and hung them up in the campo santo behind the bust of cavour. no other adequate reason for the chronic spirit of disunion in italy than the oppressive aristocratic spirit can be given. italy was blest with every influence for unity;--a most favorable position and conformation, boundaries sharply defined on three sides by seas and on the remaining side by lofty mountains, a great devotion to trade, a single great political tradition, a single great religious tradition, both drawing the nation toward one great central city. had italy been left to herself without the disturbing influence of this chivalric, uneasy, plotting, fighting caste, who can doubt that petty rivalries would have been extinguished and all elements fused into a great, strong nationality? turn from this history and construct such a society with your own reason. you shall find it all very simple. put into energetic free cities or states a body of men accustomed to lord it over an inferior caste, whose main occupation is to brood over wrongs and to hatch revenges, and you ensure disunion between that state and sister states speedily. to such men every movement of a sister state is cause for suspicion, every betterment cause for quarrel. but you ensure more than that. under such circumstances _disunion is always followed by disintegration_. they are two inevitable stages of one disease. in the first stage the idea of country is lost; in the second, the idea of government is lost; disintegration is closely followed by anarchy, and despotism has generally been the only remedy. to italy in this strait despotism was the remedy. disunion between _all_ italian republics was followed by disintegration between factions in _each_ italian republic. a multitude of city tyrants rose to remedy disintegration,--a single tyrant rose above all to remedy disunion. these were welcomed because they at least mitigated anarchy. if a visconti or a sforza was bad at milan, he was better than a multitude of tyrants. if the scala were severe at verona, they were less severe than the crowd of competitors whom they put down. if rienzi was harsh at rome, he was milder than the struggles of the colonna and orsini,--if the duke of athens was at once contemptible and terrible at athens, he was neither so contemptible nor so terrible as the feuds of the cerchi and donati. and when, at last, charles the fifth crushed all these seething polities into a compact despotism, that was better than disunion, disintegration and anarchy. this compression of anarchic elements ended the vitriolic period of italian aristocracy, but it brought on the narcotic period. it was the most fearful reign of cruelty, debauchery and treachery between the orgies of vitellius and de sade. yet those debaucheries and murders among the borgias and later medici, and so many other leading families, were but types of what this second phase of an oppressive aristocracy _must_ be. for the domineering caste-spirit immediately on its repression breaks out in cruelty. this is historical, and a moment's thought will show you that it is logical. the development of the chivalric noble into the cruel schemer is very easily traced. given such a lordling forced to keep the peace, and you have a character which, if it resigns itself, sinks into debauchery--which, if it resists, flies into plotting. now both the debauchee and the plotter regard bodies and souls of inferiors as mere counters in their games,--hence they _must_ be cruel.[ ] i turn now to another nation where the serf-mastering spirit wrought out its fearful work in yet a different manner, and on a more gigantic scale,--in a manner so brilliant that it has dazzled the world for centuries, and blazoned its faults as virtues;--on a scale so great that it has sunk art, science, literature, education, commerce and manufactures,--brought misery upon its lower caste,--brought death upon its upper caste,--and has utterly removed its nation from modern geography, and its name from modern history. i point you to poland. look at polish history as painted by its admirers,--it is noble and beautiful. you see political scenes, military scenes, and individual lives which at once win you. go back three centuries, stand on those old towers of warsaw,--look forth over the plains of volo. the nation is gathered there. its king it elects. the king thus elected is limited in power so that his main function is to do justice. the whole voting body are _equals_. each, too, is _free_. no king, no noble, is allowed to trench upon his freedom. so free is each that no will of the majority is binding upon him, except by his own consent. here is equality indeed! equality pushed so far that each man is not only the equal of every other--but of all others together;--the equal of the combined nation. these men are brave, hardy, and, as you have seen, free, equal, and allowed more rights than the citizens of any republic before or since.[ ] but leave now this magnificent body--stretching over those vast plains beyond eye-reach. tear yourselves away from the brave show--the flash of jeweled sabres and crosiers--the glitter of gilded trappings--the curvetings of noble horses between tents of silk and banners of gold-thread. go out into the country from which these splendid freemen come. here is indeed a revelation! here is a body of men whom history has forgotten. strangely indeed--for it is a body far larger than that assembled upon the plains of volo. _there_ were, perhaps, a hundred thousand; _here_ are millions. these millions are christians, but they are wretchedly clad and bent with labor. they are indeed stupid,--unkempt,--degraded,--often knavish,--but they love their country,--toil for her,--suffer for her. to them, in times of national struggles, all the weariness,--to them, in times of national triumphs, none of the honor. these are the _serfs_ of those brilliant beings prancing and caracoling and flashing on yonder plain of volo--to the applauding universe. evidently then, there has been a mistake here. history and poetry have forgotten to mention a fact supremely important. the _people_ of poland are, after all, _not_ free--_not_ equal. the voting is not voting by the _people_. freedom and the suffrage are for _serf-owners_,--equality is between _them_. no one can deny that in this governing class were many, very many noble specimens of manhood--yielding ease and life for ideas--readily. emperor henry the fifth of germany had tried in vain to overcome them by war. when the polish ambassador came into his presence, the emperor pointed to his weapon, and said, "i could not overcome your nobility with _these_;"--then pointing to an open chest filled with gold, he said, "but i will conquer them with _this_." the ambassador wore the chains and jewels befitting his rank. straitway he takes off every ornament, and flings all into the emperor's chest together. yet myriads of such men could not have averted ruin. polish history proved it day by day. it was not that these nobles were especially barbarous,--it was not that they were effeminate. _it was simply that they maintained one caste above another--allowing a distinction in civil and political rights._ the system gave its usual luxuriant fruitage of curses. _first_ in the _material_ condition. labor and trade were despised. if, in the useful class, a genius arose, the first exercise of his genius was to get himself out of the useful class. labor was left to serfs; trade was left to jews. cities were contemptible in all that does a city honor. villages were huddles. the idea thus implanted remains. of all countries, called civilized, poland seems to-day, materially, the most hopeless.[ ] it may be said that this results from russian invasions;--but it was so _before_ russian invasions. it may be said that it results from russian oppression,--but the great central districts of russia are just as much under the czar, and they are thriving. it may be said that poland has been wasted by war;--but belgium and holland and the rhine palatinate have been far more severely wasted, yet their towns are hives, and their country districts gardens. next, as to the _political_ condition. a man-mastering caste necessarily develops the individual will morbidly and intensely. the most immediate of political consequences is, of course, a clash between the individual will and the general will. trouble then breaks forth in different forms in different countries. in spain we saw it take shape in _secession_;--in italy we saw it lead to fearful territorial _disunion_;--in poland it first took the form of _nullification_. the nullifying spirit naturally crystallized into an institution. that institution was the _liberum veto_. by this, in any national assemblage--no matter how great, no matter how important,--the veto of a single noble could stop all proceedings. every special interest of every petty district or man had power of life and death over the general interest. the whim, or crotchet, or spite of a single man could and did nullify measures vital to the whole nation. in , sizinski, a noble sitting in the national diet, when great measures were supposed to be unanimously determined upon, left his seat, signifying his dissent. the whole vast machinery was stopped, and poland made miserable.[ ] closely allied to this was another political consequence. constant, healthful watchfulness over rights is necessary in any republic; but there is a watchfulness which is not healthful; it is the morbid watchfulness--the jealousy which arises in the minds of a superior caste, _living generally in contact with inferiors, and only occasionally in contact with equals_. the polish citizen lived on his estate. about him were inferiors,--beings who were not citizens--depending on him--doing him homage. but when the same citizen entered that assembly on the plains of volo all this was changed. there he met his equals. pride then clashed with pride,--faction rose against faction. the result i will not state in my own words, for fear it may be thought i warp facts to make a historical parallel. i shall translate word for word from salvandy: "_confederations_ were now formed--armed leagues of a number of nobles who chose for themselves a marshal or president, and opposed decrees to decrees, force to force; contending diets which raised leader against leader, and had the king sometimes as chief, sometimes as captive; an institution deplorable and insensate, which opened to all discontented men a legal way to set their country on fire."[ ] from the political causes i have named logically flowed another. in that perpetual anarchy, some factions must be beaten. but a class with traditions and habits of oppression is very different, when beaten, from a society swayed by manufacturing, commercial, and legal interests. these last try to make some arrangement. they yield, and fit matters to the new conditions. they are anxious to get back to their work again. but a class with habits of domineering has its own peculiar pride to deal with. it has leisure to brood over defeat, to whine over lost advantages, to fret over lost consideration, and you generally find it soon plotting more insidiously than before. so it was with poland. the beaten factions did what fighting aristocracies always do when fearful of defeat, or embittered by it,--the vilest thing they can do, and the most dangerous--_they intrigued for foreign intervention_. of all things, this is most fatal to nationality. going openly over to the enemy is bad; but intrigues with foreign powers, hostile by interest and tradition, are unutterably vile. yet there is not a nation where a class pursuing separate and distinct rights is tolerated, where such intrigues have not been frequent. more than this, such intrigues have generally been timed with diabolic sagacity. the time chosen is generally some national emergency--when the nation is writhing in domestic misfortunes, or battling desperately against foreign foes. the spanish nobles chose their time for intriguing with the moors for their intervention, when the spanish nation were in the most desperate struggle--not merely for temporal power, but even for the existence of their religion. in france, the nobles chose such periods as those when richelieu was leading the nation against all europe and a large part of france. in poland, the nobles chose the times when the nation was struggling against absolute annihilation.[ ] history, to one not blinded by polish bravery, is clear here. the real authors of the partition of poland were not frederick of prussia, and maria theresa of austria, and catherine of prussia, but those proud nobles who drew surrounding nations to intervene in polish politics. the _social_ condition was also affected naturally. poland went into the inevitable narcotic phase. her court during the reigns of its later kings was a brothel, and her nobles its worthy tenants. what followed was natural. when the light of the last century streamed in upon this corrupt mass, zamoiski and men like him tried to purify it,--to enfranchise the subordinate caste,--to work reforms. the polish republic refused. then providence began a work radical and terrible. it is sad to see those brave citizen-nobles crushed beneath brute force of russians, and austrians, and prussians. but it was well. one alexander the first _would have_ done, one alexander the second _has_ done more good for poland than ages of citizen serf-masters flourishing on the plains of volo. the next nation to which i direct you is france. of all modern aristocracies, hers has probably been the most hated.[ ] guizot, in some respects its apologist, confesses this. eugenie de guerin--the most angelic soul revealed to this age--herself of noble descent--declares that the sight even of a ruined chateau made her shudder[ ] but all that history, rich as it is in illustrations of the noxious qualities of an oppressive aristocracy, i will pass, save as it presents the _dealing of statesmen with it_, their attempts to thwart it and crush it. a succession of monarchs and statesmen kept up these attempts during centuries. philip augustus, louis vi. and louis vii., suger, st. louis, philip the long, all wrought well at this. the great thing to notice in that mediaeval french statesmanship is that _they attacked the domineering caste in the right way_. every victory over it was followed not merely by setting serfs free, but by giving them civil rights, and, to some extent, political rights. when one of the kings i have named gave a charter of community, he did not merely make the serf a nominal freedman; he also gave him rights, and thus wrought him into a bulwark between the central power and the rage of the former master.[ ] so far all was good. the great difficulty was that none of those monarchs or statesmen obtained physical power enough to enforce this policy throughout france. it was mainly confined to towns. but in the middle of the fifteenth century came the most persistent man of all--louis the eleventh. he gained power throughout the kingdom. if a noble became turbulent, he hunted him; if this failed, he entrapped him. cages, dungeons, racks, gibbets, he used in extinguishing this sort of political vermin; and he used them freely and beneficially. his policy seems cruel. our weak women of both sexes, with whom the tears of a murderer's mistress outweigh the sufferings of a crime-ridden community, will think so. it was really merciful. louis was, probably, a scoundrel; but he was not a fool, and he saw that the greatest cruelty he could commit would be to make concessions and try to _win over_ the nobility. his hard, sharp sense showed him--what all history shows--that an oppressive caste can be crushed, but that wheedled and persuaded it cannot be. but louis forgot one thing, and that the most important. merely to _defeat_ an aristocracy was not enough. _he forgot to provide guarantees for the lower classes_--he forgot to put rights into their hands which should enable them forever to check and balance the upper class when his hand was removed. you see that this mistake is just the reverse of that committed by previous statesmen. of course then, after the death of louis, france relapsed into her old anarchy. occasionally a strong king or city put a curb upon the nobles; but, in the main, it was the old bad history with variations ever more and more painful. over a hundred years more of this sort went by, and the rule of the nobles became utterly unbearable. the death of henry the fourth, in , left on the throne a weak child as king, and behind the throne a weak woman as regent. the nobles wrought out their will completely. they seized fortifications, plundered towns, emptied the treasury, domineered over the monarch, and impoverished the people. curiously enough, too, to one who has not seen the same fact over and over in history, the nobles, during all these outrages of theirs, were declaiming, and groaning, and whining over their grievances and want of rights.[ ] compromise after compromise was made, and to no purpose. no sooner were compromises made than they were broken. finally, a great statesman, recognizing the futility of compromises, gave the aristocracy battle. this statesman was richelieu. the nobles tried all their modes of working i have shown in other countries. they tried nullification, secession, disunion. they intrigued for the intervention of spain. they preferred caste to country, and attempted to desert france at the moment of her sorest need--at the siege of la rochelle. but richelieu was too strong for them. his victories were magnificent. while he lived france had peace.[ ] yet he makes the same mistake which louis xi. had made. he defeats the upper caste; but he guarantees no rights to the lower caste; therefore he gives france no barrier against that old flood of evils--save his own hand, and when death removes that, chaos comes again. mazarin now grapples with them. they give him a fearful trial. they throw france into civil war. they pretend zeal for liberty, and form an anarchic alliance with the poor old stupid parliament of paris. they make mazarin miserable. they throw filth upon him, then light him up with their fireworks of wit, and set the world laughing at him. then they drive him out of france; but he is keen and strong, and finally throws his nets over them, and france has another breathing time. but the nobility if quiet are not a whit more beneficial--they are virulent and cynical as ever. mazarin commits the same fault which louis xi. and richelieu had committed before him. his mind was keen always, bold sometimes--yet never keen enough to see, or bold enough to try the policy of giving france a guarantee of perpetual peace, by raising up that lower class, and giving them rights, civil and political, which should attach them to the legitimate government, and make them a balancing body against the aristocracy. it is wonderful! great men, fighting single-handed against thousands, clear in foresight and insight, quick in planning, vigorous in executing, finding every path to advantage, hurling every weighty missile, seeing everything, daring everything, except that one simple, broad principle in statesmanship which could have saved france from anarchy then and from revolution afterwards. gentlemen, it is a great lesson and a plain one. diplomacy based on knowledge of the ordinary motives of ordinary men is strong,--statesmanship based on close study of the interests and aims of states and classes is strong;--but there is a diplomacy and a statesmanship infinitely stronger. infinitely stronger are the diplomacy and statemanship whose master is a _heart_,--a heart with an instinct for truth and right;--a heart with a faith that on truth and right alone can peace be fitly builded. your common-place cavour, with his deep instinct for italian liberty and unity;--your uncouth lincoln, with his deep instinct for american liberty and unity, are worth legions of compromise builders and conciliation mongers. mazarin delivered france into the hands of louis xiv., and louis brought them permanently into the narcotic phase. he stupefied them with sensuality,--attached them to his court,--made his palace the centre of their ambition,--gave scope to their fancy, by setting them at powdering and painting and frizzing,--gave scope to their activity by keeping them at gambling and debauchery,--weaned them from turbulence by stimulating them to decorate their bodies and to debase their souls.[ ] the central power was thus saved;--the people went on suffering as before. under the regency of louis xv. the nobility went from bad to worse. their scorn for labor made them despise not merely those who toiled in agriculture and manufactures--it led them logically to openly neglect, and secretly despise professions generally thought the most honorable. when racine ridiculed lawyers,[ ] and when moliere ridiculed physicians[ ] and scholars,[ ] they but yielded to this current. wise men saw the danger. laws were passed declaring that commerce should not be derogatory to nobility. abbé coyer wrote a book to entice nobles into commerce. it had a captivating frontispiece, representing a nobleman elegantly dressed going on board a handsome merchant ship.[ ] all in vain. the serf-mastering traditions were too strong. the revolution comes. the nobles stand out against the entreaties of louis xvi.--the statesmanship of turgot, the financial skill of necker,--the keenness of sieyes,--the boldness of mirabeau. the very existence of france is threatened; but they have erected, as nobles always do, their substitute for patriotism. they stand by their order. royalty yields to the third estate,--the clergy yield, the nobility will not. they are at last scared into momentary submission to right and justice and the spirit of the age. on the memorable fourth of august they renounce their most hideous oppressions. there is no end of patriotic speeches by these converts to liberty. the burden of all is the same. they are anxious to give up their oppressions. it is of no use to struggle longer, they are beaten, they will yield to save france.[ ] artists illustrate the great event, some pathetically, some comically.[ ] the millennium seems arrived, a _te deum_ is appointed. yet plain common sense buchez notes one thing in all this not so pleasant. in these "transports and outpourings," (_transports et l'effusion de sentiments genereux_,) one very important thing has been forgotten. _the nobles forget to give, and the people forget to take--guarantees._[ ] woe to the people who trust merely the word of an upper caste habituated to oppression! woe to the statesmen who do not at once crystallize such promises into constitutional and legislative acts! these nobles shortly regretted their concessions and sought to evade them.[ ] the aristocrats whom they represented soon denied the right of their deputies to make these concessions, and soon after repudiated them.[ ] how could it be otherwise? when you speak of concessions by a caste habituated to oppression, you do not mean that they give away a single, simple, tangible thing, and that _that_ is the end of it;--not at all. you mean that they give up old habits of thought,--habits of action. you mean that every day of their lives thereafter they are to give up a habit, or a fancy, or a comfort. no mere promises of theirs to do this can be trusted. there must be guarantees fixed immutably, bedded into the constitution,--clamped into the laws. that same anchoring of liberties, and not "_transports et l'effusion de sentiments genereux_," is statesmanship. these concessions were not thus secured. the old habits of oppression again got the upper hand. the upper class became as hostile to liberty and peace as ever. then thundered through france the revolution. it _must_ come;--that great and good french revolution which did more to advance mankind in ten years than had been done politically in ten centuries,--which cost fewer lives to establish great principles than the grand monarque had flung away to gratify his whimsies! the right hand of the almighty was behind it. i refuse at the will of english tory historians to lament more over the sufferings that besotted caste of oppressors brought upon themselves during those three years, than over the sufferings they brought upon the people during three times three centuries.[ ] the great thing was now partially done which louis xi. and richelieu had left entirely undone. the lower class were not merely freed from serfdom; they received guarantees of full civil rights.[ ] so far all was well, but at another point the constituent assembly stumbled. they were not bold enough to give full _political_ rights. they thought the peasantry too ignorant--too much debased by a long servitude, to be entrusted with political rights,--therefore they denied them, and invented for them "passive citizenship."[ ] it was skillfully devised, but none the less fatal. the denial of political rights to the enfranchised was one of the two great causes of the destruction of the constitution of , and of the inauguration of the reign of terror. political rights could not be refused long. as they could not be obtained in peace the freed peasantry never allowed france rest until it gained them by long years of bloodshed and anarchy. revolution after revolution has failed of full results. dynasty after dynasty has failed to give quiet until a great statesman in our own time, napoleon iii., has been bold enough to make suffrage universal. whatever the first french revolution failed to do, it failed to do mainly by lack of bold faith in giving _political_ rights;--whatever it succeeded in doing, it succeeded by giving full _civil_ rights. when louis xviii. was brought back by foreign bayonets, the nobility also came back jubilant; all seemed about to give france over to her old caste of oppressors. the revolution was gone, its great theories were gone, its great men were swept away by death and by discouragement worse than death. but one barrier stood between france and all her old misery. that barrier stood firm; it was the enfranchised peasantry--possessing civil rights and confiscated property in land. against these the whole might of the nobility beat in vain. peace came, and with peace prosperity. france had been fearfully shattered by ages of evil administration and false political economy; she had been devastated by wars without and within; she had been plundered of an immense indemnity by the allies; the best of her people had been swept off by conscriptions; but under the distribution of lands to the former serfs, and the full guarantee of civil rights and the germs of political rights, the nation showed an energy in recuperation and a breadth of prosperity never before known in all her history. there are other nations which, did time allow, might be summoned before us to aid our insight into the tendencies of castes habituated to oppression. i might show from the annals of germany how such a caste, having dragged the country through a thousand years of anarchy, have left it in chronic disunion,--the loss of all natural consideration, and oft-recurring civil wars, one of which is now devastating her.[ ] i might show from the history of russia how the despotism of the autocrat has been made necessary to save the empire from a worse foe--from a serf-mastering aristocracy. and i might go further and show how the statesmanship which has emancipated the lower class in russia has recognized the great truth that the nation is not safe against the aristocracy--that no barrier can stand against them except the enfranchised endowed with rights and lands.[ ] but i am aware that an objection to this estimate of the noxious activity of an aristocracy may be raised from the history of england. it may be said that there the course of the nobles has been different--that some of the hardest battles against tyrants have been won by combination of nobles, that they have laid the foundations of free institutions, that, under monarchs who have hated national liberty, nobles have been among the foremost martyrs. let us look candidly at this. it is true that the earl of pembroke and the barons of england led the struggle for magna charta; it is true that the earl of leicester and his associate barons summoned the first really representative parliament;[ ] it is true that surrey and raleigh and russell suffered martyrdom at the hands of tyrants. it is true, moreover, that english nobles have not generally been so turbulent in what i have called the vitriolic period, nor so debased in the narcotic period, as most other european aristocracies. they were, indeed, very violent in the wars of the roses,--many of them were very debased under charles the second, and again under the first and last georges, and it is quite likely will be again under that very unpromising ruler, albert edward, who seems developing the head of george the third and the heart of george the fourth[ ]--but they have never been quite so violent or debased as the continental nobles at similar periods. but all this, so far from weakening the thesis i support, strengthens it--nay, clenches it. for the nobility of england, less than any other in europe, was based upon the oppression of a subject class. from the earliest period when law begins to be established in england we find that the serf system begins to be extinguished. the courts of law quietly adopted and steadily maintained the principle that in any question between lord and serf the presumption was in favor of the inferior's right to liberty rather than the superior's right to property.[ ] the whole current set that way, and we find growing in england that middle class, steady and sturdy by the possession of rights, which won agincourt and crecy and marston moor and worcester,--which made her country a garden and her cities marts for the world.[ ] it is because england had so little of a serf-ruling caste in her history that she has been saved from so many of the calamities which have befallen other nations. and there is another great difference between england and other nations, a difference of tremendous import. she has not stopped after making her lower classes nominally free. she has given them full civil rights and a constantly increasing share of political rights. thus she has made them guardians of freedom. this is the great reason why her nobility have not destroyed her. this enfranchised class has been a barrier against aristocratic encroachment. and yet in so far as the upper caste of england have partaken of traditions and habits of oppression they have deeply injured their country. not a single great modern measure which they have not bitterly opposed. the repeal of the corn laws, the abolition of tests, the reform bill, the improvement of the universities--these and a score more of great measures nearly as important, they have fought to the last.[ ] to them is mainly due that grasping of lands which has brought so much misery on the working class.[ ] to them is due that cold-blooded dealing with lafayette and bailly and other patriots of the french revolution, which finally resulted in the brunswick manifesto and the reign of terror. to them and their followers is due that most stupid crime which any nation ever committed in its foreign policy--the bitter, cowardly injustice toward our own republic in its recent struggle. this is what the _remnant_ of caste-spirit in england has accomplished, and it is only because it has not been habituated to oppression by serf-owning, and because it was held in check by a lower class possessing civil and political rights, that it was not frightful in turbulence and debauchery. so stands modern history as it bears upon the thesis i have proposed. it shows a man-mastering caste, even when its man-mastering has passed from a fact into a tradition, to be the most frequent foe and the most determined with which nations have to grapple. by its erection of a substitute for patriotism, it is of all foes the most intractable; by its erection of a substitute for political morality, the most deceptive; by its proneness to disunion and disintegration, the most bewildering; by its habit of calling for the intervention of foreign powers, the most disheartening; by its morbid sensitiveness over pretended rights, the most watchful; in its unscrupulousness, the most determined; by its brilliancy, the most powerful in cheating the world into sympathy. but history gives more than this. to the thesis i have advanced it gives, as you have seen, a corollary. having shown what foe to right and liberty is most vigorous and noxious, it shows how alone that foe can be conquered and permanently dethroned. the lesson of failures and successes in the world's history points to one course, and to that alone. here conquest cannot do it; spasmodic severity cannot do it; wheedling of material interests, orating up patriotic interests, cannot do it. history shows just one course. _first, the oppressive caste must be put down at no matter what outlay of blood and treasure; next, it must be kept dethroned by erecting a living, growing barrier against its return to power, and the only way of erecting that barrier is by guaranteeing civil rights in full, and political rights at least in germ, to the subject class._ herein is written the greatness or littleness of nations--herein is written the failure or success of their great struggles. in all history, those be the great nations which have boldly grappled with political dragons, and not only put them down but _kept_ them down. the work of saving a nation from an oligarchy then is two fold. it is not finished until both parts are completed. nations forget this at their peril. nearly every great modern revolution wherein has been gain to liberty has had to be fought over a second time. so it was with the english revolution of . so it was with the french revolutions of and . what has been gained by bravery has been lost by treachery. nations have forgotten that vigorous fighting to gain liberty must be followed by sound planning to secure it. what is this sound planning? is it superiority in duplicity? not at all; it is the only planning which insists on frank dealing. is it based on cupidity? not at all; it is based on right. is it centered in revenge? not at all; its centre is mercy and its circumference is justice. it may say to the discomfited oppressor, you shall have mercy; but it must say to the enfranchised, you shall have justice. acknowledging this, suger and the great mediaeval statesmen succeeded; ignoring this, louis. xi., richelieu, and a host of great modern statesmen failed. to keep the haughty and turbulent caste of oppressors in their proper relations, the central authority in every nation has been obliged to form a close alliance with the down-trodden caste of workers. if these have been ignorant it has had to instruct them; if they have been wretched, it has had to raise them; and the simple way--nay, the only way to instruct and raise them has been to give them rights, civil and political, which will force them to raise and instruct themselves. but it may be said that some subject classes are _too low_ thus to be lifted--that there are some races too weak to be thus wrought into a barrier against aristocracy. i deny it. for history denies it. the race is not yet discovered in which the average man is not better and safer with rights than without them. think you that _your_ ancestors were so much better than _other_ subject classes? look into any town directory. the names show an overwhelming majority of us descendants of european serfs and peasantry. i defy you to find any body of men more degraded and stupid than our ancestors. do you boast anglo-saxon ancestry?--look at charles kingsley's picture in hereward of the great banquet, the apotheosis of wolfishness and piggishness; or look at walter scott's delineation in ivanhoe of gurth the swine-herd, dressed in skins, the brass collar soldered about his neck like the collar of a dog, and upon it the inscription, "gurth the born thrall of cedric." do you boast french ancestry?--look into orderic vital, or froissart, or de comines, and see what manner of man was your ancestor, "_jacques bonhomme_"--kicked, cuffed, plundered, murdered, robbed of the honor of his wife and the custody of his children, not allowed to wear good clothing,[ ] not recognized as a man and a brother,[ ] not indeed in early times recognized as a man at all.[ ] do you boast german ancestry?--look at luther's letters and see how the unutterable stupidity of your ancestors vexed him. yet from these progenitors of yours, kept besotted and degraded through centuries by oppression, have, by comparatively a few years of freedom, been developed the barriers which have saved modern states. is it said that this bestowal of rights on the oppressed is dangerous? history is full of proofs that the faith in heaven's justice which has led statesmen to solve great difficulties by _bestowing_ rights has proved far more safe than the attempt to evade great difficulties by _withholding_ rights.[ ] is it said that the anarchic tendencies of an oppressive caste can be overcome by compromise and barter? history shows that the chances in trickery and barter are immensely in their favor. is it said that the era of such dangers is past--that _civilization_ will modify the nature of oppressive castes? that is the most dangerous delusion of all. in all annals, a class, whether rough citizens as in poland, or smooth gentlemen as in france, based on traditions or habits of oppression, has proved a _reptile caste_. its coat may be mottled with romance, and smooth with sophistry, and glossy with civilization;--it may wind itself gracefully in chivalric courses; but its fangs will be found none the less venomous, its attacks none the less cruel, its skill in prolonging its reptile life, even after seeming death wounds, none the less deceitful. is it said that to grapple with such a reptile caste is dangerous? history shows not one example where the plain, hardy people have boldly faced it and throttled it and not conquered it. the course is plain, and there it but one. strike until the reptile caste spirit is scotched; then pile upon it a new fabric of civil and political rights until its whole organism of evil is crushed forever. for this policy alone speaks the whole history of man,--to this policy alone stand pledged all the attributes of god. * * * * * footnotes: [footnote : history of civilization in europe. third lecture.] [footnote : sempere, _histoire des cortes d'espagne_, chap. .] [footnote : prescott's ferdinand and isabella. introduction, p. .] [footnote : hallam's hist. of middle ages, vol. , p. .] [footnote : robertson's introduction to life of charles v., section d; also prescott.] [footnote : what an effect this early liberty had in stimulating thought can be seen in a few moments by glancing over the pages of ticknor's history of spanish literature.] [footnote : for some statements as to hardy characteristics of spanish peasantry, see doblado's letters from spain. letter .] [footnote : sempere, p. .] [footnote : mariana hist. of spain.] [footnote : mariana, history of spain.] [footnote : mariana, history of spain, xiii., .] [footnote : "there probably never lived a prince who, during so long a period, was adored by his subjects as philip ii. was." buckle, vol. ii., page . this explains the popularity of henry viii. of england better than all froude's volumes, able as they are.] [footnote : all this examination into aristocratic agency in spanish decline is left out of buckle's summary. he passes at once to ecclesiasticism and despotism; but the unprejudiced reader will, i think, see that this statement is supplementary to that. in no other way can any man explain the fatuity of the spaniards in throwing away these old liberties.] [footnote : _grandeur et décadence des romains_; english translation of ; pp. - . compare also _l'esprit des lois_, liv. xiv., chap. .] [footnote : decline and fall of roman empire, chap. .] [footnote : fall of roman empire, last part of chap. .] [footnote : _histoire de la civilisation en france_, mc leçon.] [footnote : history of roman republic, book iii., chap. .] [footnote : schlosser, _weltgeshichte für das deutsche volk_; vol. iv., xiv., .] [footnote : essay on the fall of rome; essays, vol. iii., p. .] [footnote : history of the romans, vol. vii., pp. - .] [footnote : bancroft's miscellanies.] [footnote : the roman and the teuton--lectures delivered before the university of cambridge, p. .] [footnote : guizot, _civilisation en europe, me leçon_; also trollope's history of florence, vol. ., chap. .] [footnote : trollope's history of florence, as above.] [footnote : any historical student can easily satisfy himself of the truth of this statement by comparing the cases given by barante in his _hist. des ducs de bourgogne_ with those given by sismondi in the _hist. des républiques italiennes_.] [footnote : _inferno_; canto xii., .] [footnote : _ibid_; canto vi., .] [footnote : _histoire des républiques italiennes_, vol. x.] [footnote : for the working out of this principle by french and english nobilities into cruelties more frightful and inexcusable than any known to the inquisition, see orderic vital liv. xii. and xiii., also barante's _histoire des ducs de bourgogne_.] [footnote : for examples of the brilliant side of polish history presented, and dark side forgotten, see chodzko _la pologne historique monumentale et pittoresque_. for fair summaries, see alison's essay, and his chapter on poland, in the history of europe--the best chapter in the book. the main authorities i have followed are rulhière and salvandy.] [footnote : this statement is based upon my own observations in poland in the years - .] [footnote : rulhière, _anarchie de pologne_. vol. i., page .] [footnote : salvandy, _vie de jean sobieski_. vol. i., page .] [footnote : the effects of polish anarchy at home and intrigue abroad are pictured fully in a few simple touches in the "_journal du voyage de boyard chérémétieff_." (_bibliotheque russe et polonaise._) vol. iv., page .] [footnote : to understand the causes of this deep hatred, see monteil, _histoire des français des divers etats, epitre _.] [footnote : st. beuve, _causeries de lundi_. also matthew arnold's essays.] [footnote : guizot, _civilisation en france, me leçon_; also _hüllman's, staedtewesen des mittelalters_. vol. iii., chapter .] [footnote : for these preposterous complaints and claims see the _cahiers de doléances_ quoted in sir james stephens' lectures.] [footnote : some details of richelieu's grapple with the aristocracy i have given in the atlantic monthly, vol. ix., page .] [footnote : for samples of the _mental_ calibre of french nobility under this regime, see case of baron de breteuil, who believed that moses wrote the lord's prayer. bayle st. john's translation of st. simon, vol. i., p. . for sample of their _moral_ debasement, see case of m. de vendome. _ibid._, vol. i., p. .] [footnote : in _les plaideurs_.] [footnote : _in le médecin malgré lui_, and other plays.] [footnote : _in le marriage forcé._] [footnote : _la noblesse commerçante._ london, .] [footnote : for general account, see _mignet_, or _louis blanc_, or _thiers_. for speeches in detail, see _buchez et roux, histoire parlémentaire_, vol. ii., pp. - .] [footnote : _challamel histoire-musée de la république française_, vol. i., pp. - , where some of these illustrations can be found.] [footnote : _buchez and roux_, vol. ii., p. .] [footnote : _mignet_, vol. i.] [footnote : _histoire de la révolution française par deux amis de la liberté_, vol. ii., p. .] [footnote : any american, whose ideas have been wrested torywise by alison, can satisfy himself of the utter inability of an english tory to write any history involving questions of liberty, by simply looking at chancellor kent's notes attached to the chapter on america in the american reprint of alison's history of europe.] [footnote : _constitution de , titre premier._] [footnote : _constitution de _, titre iii., sect. , art. .] [footnote : any one wishing to see how that inevitable moral debasement came upon the german aristocracy, and in general what the oppressive caste came to finally, can find enough in the d vol. of menzel's history of germany.] [footnote : gerbertzoff, _hist. de la civilisation en russie_. haxthausen, _etudes sur la russie_. a full sketch of the rise and decline of the serf system in russia i have attempted in the atlantic monthly, vol. x., page .] [footnote : _creasy's history of english constitution_;--but hume says of leicester's parliament, that it was in the intention of reducing forever both the king and the people under the arbitrary power of a very narrow tyranny, which must have terminated either in anarchy or in violent usurpation and tyranny. hist. of england, chap. xii.] [footnote : i perhaps do the last two georges injustice. neither of them would have publicly insulted men of letters and science as the prince of wales has several times done recently.] [footnote : creasy, chap. ix.] [footnote : fischel on english constitution, chap. i., pp. , . also stephens' edition of de lolme.] [footnote : for best account of this, see may's constitutional history.] [footnote : see kay's social condition of english people.] [footnote : among the grievances put forth by the nobles at the states general of , one was that the wives of the common people wore too good clothing; another was that an orator of the third estate had dared call the nobles their brothers. sir james stephens' lectures.] [footnote : among the grievances put forth by the nobles at the states general of , one was that the wives of the common people wore too good clothing; another was that an orator of the third estate had dared call the nobles their brothers. sir james stephens' lectures.] [footnote : for a very striking summary of this see henri martin's _hist. de france_, vol. v., p. .] [footnote : i know of but one plausible exception to this rule--that of the failure of joseph ii. in his dealings with the rhine provinces. the case of louis xvi. is no exception, for he was always taking back secretly what he had given openly.] * * * * * transcriber's notes minor punctuation errors have been silently corrected. footnotes have been reindexed with numbers and moved to the end of the document. in footnote : " mc" is a possible typo for " me." (orig: _histoire de la civilisation en france_, mc leçon.) in footnote : changed "boook" to "book." (orig: history of roman republic, boook iii., chap. .) of michigan. =mabini's decalogue for filipinos= [illustration: apolinario mabini] apolinario mabini, martyr. "thou shalt love thy country after god and they honor and more than thyself: for she is the only paradise which god has given thee in this life, the only inheritance of thy ancestors and the only hope of thy posterity." philippine press bureau washington, d. c. mabini mabini was undoubtedly the most profound thinker and political philosopher that the pilipino race ever produced. some day, when his works are fully published, but not until then, mabini will come into his own. a great name awaits him, not only in the philippines, for he is already appreciated there, but in every land where the cause of liberty and human freedom is revered. mabini was born in tanawan, province of batangas, island of luzon, p.i., of poor filipino parents, in . he received his education in the "colegio de san juan de letran." manila, and in the university of santo tomas. he supported himself while studying by his own efforts, and made a brilliant record in both institutions. later he devoted his energies to the establishment of a private school in manila and to legal work. mabini came to the front in during the pilipino revolution against spain. in the subsequent revolution against the united states he became known as "the brains of the revolution." he was so considered by the american army officers, who bent every energy to capture him. he was the leading adviser of aguinaldo, and was the author of the latter's many able decrees and proclamations. mabini's official position was president of the council of secretaries, and he also held the post of secretary of the exterior. one of mabini's greatest works was his draft of a constitution for the philippine republic. it was accompanied by what he called "the true decalogue," published in the pages following. mabini's "ten commandments" are so framed as to meet the needs of filipino patriotism for all time. he also drafted rules for the organization and government of municipalities and provinces, which were highly successful because of their adaptability to local conditions. mabini remained the head of aguinaldo's cabinet until march, , when he resigned. but he continued in hearty sympathy with the revolution, however, and his counsel was frequently sought. mabini was arrested by the american forces in september, , and remained a prisoner until september , . following his release, he lived for a while in a suburb of manila, in a poor nipa house, under the most adverse and trying circumstances. he was in abject poverty. in spite of his terrible suffering from paralysis, mabini continued writing. he severely criticised the government, voicing the sentiments of the filipino people for freedom. he was ordered to desist, but to this, in one of his writings to the people, he replied: "to tell a man to be quiet when a necessity not fulfilled is shaking all the fibers of his being is tantamount to asking a hungry man to be filled before taking the food which he needs." mabini's logic was a real embarrassment to the american military forces, and in january, , he was arrested a second time by the americans. this time he was exiled to the island of guam, where he remained until his return to manila on february , . mabini died in manila, of cholera, may , , at the age of years. his funeral was the most largely attended of any ever held in manila. although he died from natural causes, mabini died a martyr to the cause of philippine independence. five years of persecution left his intense patriotism untouched, but it had made his physical self a ready victim for a premature death. ="the true decalogue"= =by apolinario mabini= first. thou shalt love god and thy honor above all things: god as the fountain of all truth, of all justice and of all activity; and thy honor, the only power which will oblige thee to be faithful, just and industrious. second. thou shalt worship god in the form which thy conscience may deem most righteous and worthy: for in thy conscience, which condemns thy evil deeds and praises thy good ones, speaks thy god. third. thou shalt cultivate the special gifts which god has granted thee, working and studying according to thy ability, never leaving the path of righteousness and justice, in order to attain thy own perfection, by means whereof thou shalt contribute to the progress of humanity; thus; thou shalt fulfill the mission to which god has appointed thee in this life and by so doing, thou shalt be honored, and being honored, thou shalt glorify thy god. fourth. thou shalt love thy country after god and thy honor and more than thyself: for she is the only paradise which god has given thee in this life, the only patrimony of thy race, the only inheritance of thy ancestors and the only hope of thy posterity; because of her, thou hast life, love and interests, happiness, honor and god. fifth. thou shalt strive for the happiness of thy country before thy own, making of her the kingdom of reason, of justice and of labor: for if she be happy, thou, together with thy family, shalt likewise be happy. sixth. thou shalt strive for the independence of thy country: for only thou canst have any real interest in her advancement and exaltation, because her independence constitutes thy own liberty; her advancement, thy perfection; and her exaltation, thy own glory and immortality. seventh. thou shalt not recognize in thy country the authority of any person who has not been elected by thee and thy countrymen; for authority emanates from god, and as god speaks in the conscience of every man, the person designated and proclaimed by the conscience of a whole people is the only one who can use true authority. eighth. thou shalt strive for a republic and never for a monarchy in thy country: for the latter exalts one or several families and founds a dynasty; the former makes a people noble and worthy through reason, great through liberty, and prosperous and brilliant through labor. ninth. thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself: for god has imposed upon him, as well as upon thee, the obligation to help thee and not to do unto thee what he would not have thee do unto him; but if thy neighbor, failing in this sacred duty, attempt against thy life, thy liberty and thy interests, then thou shalt destroy and annihilate him for the supreme law of self-preservation prevails. tenth. thou shalt consider thy countryman more than thy neighbor; thou shalt see him thy friend, thy brother or at least thy comrade, with whom thou art bound by one fate, by the same joys and sorrows and by common aspirations and interests. therefore, as long as national frontiers subsist, raised and maintained by the selfishness of race and of family, with thy countryman alone shalt thou unite in a perfect solidarity of purpose and interest, in order to have force, not only to resist the common enemy but also to attain all the aims of human life. the republic of plato _jowett_ london henry frowde oxford university press warehouse amen corner, e. c. the republic of plato translated into english with _introduction, analysis marginal analysis, and index_ by b. jowett, m.a. master of balliol college regius professor of greek in the university of oxford doctor in theology of the university of leyden the third edition _revised and corrected throughout_ oxford at the clarendon press m dccc lxxxviii [_all rights reserved_] to my former pupils in balliol college and in the university of oxford, who during forty-six years have been the best of friends to me, this volume is inscribed, in grateful recognition of their never failing attachment. preface. in publishing a third edition of the republic of plato (originally included in my edition of plato's works), i have to acknowledge the assistance of several friends, especially of my secretary, mr. matthew knight, now residing for his health at davôs, and of mr. frank fletcher, exhibitioner of balliol college. to their accuracy and scholarship i am under great obligations. the excellent index, in which are contained references to the other dialogues as well as to the republic, is entirely the work of mr. knight. i am also considerably indebted to mr. j. w. mackail, fellow of balliol college, who read over the whole book in the previous edition, and noted several inaccuracies. the additions and alterations both in the introduction and in the text, affect at least a third of the work. having regard to the extent of these alterations, and to the annoyance which is felt by the owner of a book at the possession of it in an inferior form, and still more keenly by the writer himself, who must always desire to be read as he is at his best, i have thought that some persons might like to exchange for the new edition the separate edition of the republic published in , to which this present volume is the successor. i have therefore arranged that those who desire to make this exchange, on depositing a perfect copy of the former separate edition with any agent of the clarendon press, shall be entitled to receive the new edition at half-price. it is my hope to issue a revised edition of the remaining dialogues in the course of a year. introduction and analysis. [sidenote: _republic._ introduction.] the republic of plato is the longest of his works with the exception of the laws, and is certainly the greatest of them. there are nearer approaches to modern metaphysics in the philebus and in the sophist; the politicus or statesman is more ideal; the form and institutions of the state are more clearly drawn out in the laws; as works of art, the symposium and the protagoras are of higher excellence. but no other dialogue of plato has the same largeness of view and the same perfection of style; no other shows an equal knowledge of the world, or contains more of those thoughts which are new as well as old, and not of one age only but of all. nowhere in plato is there a deeper irony or a greater wealth of humour or imagery, or more dramatic power. nor in any other of his writings is the attempt made to interweave life and speculation, or to connect politics with philosophy. the republic is the centre around which the other dialogues may be grouped; here philosophy reaches the highest point (cp. especially in books v, vi, vii) to which ancient thinkers ever attained. plato among the greeks, like bacon among the moderns, was the first who conceived a method of knowledge, although neither of them always distinguished the bare outline or form from the substance of truth; and both of them had to be content with an abstraction of science which was not yet realized. he was the greatest metaphysical genius whom the world has seen; and in him, more than in any other ancient thinker, the germs of future knowledge are contained. the sciences of logic and psychology, which have supplied so many instruments of thought to after-ages, are based upon the analyses of socrates and plato. the principles of definition, the law of contradiction, the fallacy of arguing in a circle, the distinction between the essence and accidents of a thing or notion, between means and ends, between causes and conditions; also the division of the mind into the rational, concupiscent, and irascible elements, or of pleasures and desires into necessary and unnecessary--these {ii} and other great forms of thought are all of them to be found in the republic, and were probably first invented by plato. the greatest of all logical truths, and the one of which writers on philosophy are most apt to lose sight, the difference between words and things, has been most strenuously insisted on by him (cp. rep. a; polit. e; cratyl. , ff.), although he has not always avoided the confusion of them in his own writings (e.g. rep. e). but he does not bind up truth in logical formulae,--logic is still veiled in metaphysics; and the science which he imagines to 'contemplate all truth and all existence' is very unlike the doctrine of the syllogism which aristotle claims to have discovered (soph. elenchi . ). neither must we forget that the republic is but the third part of a still larger design which was to have included an ideal history of athens, as well as a political and physical philosophy. the fragment of the critias has given birth to a world-famous fiction, second only in importance to the tale of troy and the legend of arthur; and is said as a fact to have inspired some of the early navigators of the sixteenth century. this mythical tale, of which the subject was a history of the wars of the athenians against the island of atlantis, is supposed to be founded upon an unfinished poem of solon, to which it would have stood in the same relation as the writings of the logographers to the poems of homer. it would have told of a struggle for liberty (cp. tim. c), intended to represent the conflict of persia and hellas. we may judge from the noble commencement of the timaeus, from the fragment of the critias itself, and from the third book of the laws, in what manner plato would have treated this high argument. we can only guess why the great design was abandoned; perhaps because plato became sensible of some incongruity in a fictitious history, or because he had lost his interest in it, or because advancing years forbade the completion of it; and we may please ourselves with the fancy that had this imaginary narrative ever been finished, we should have found plato himself sympathising with the struggle for hellenic independence (cp. laws iii. ff.), singing a hymn of triumph over marathon and salamis, perhaps making the reflection of herodotus where he contemplates the growth of the athenian empire--'how brave a thing is freedom of speech, {iii} which has made the athenians so far exceed every other state of hellas in greatness!' or, more probably, attributing the victory to the ancient good order of athens and to the favour of apollo and athene (cp. introd. to critias). again, plato may be regarded as the 'captain' ([greek: a)rchêgo/s]) or leader of a goodly band of followers; for in the republic is to be found the original of cicero's de republica, of st. augustine's city of god, of the utopia of sir thomas more, and of the numerous other imaginary states which are framed upon the same model. the extent to which aristotle or the aristotelian school were indebted to him in the politics has been little recognised, and the recognition is the more necessary because it is not made by aristotle himself. the two philosophers had more in common than they were conscious of; and probably some elements of plato remain still undetected in aristotle. in english philosophy too, many affinities may be traced, not only in the works of the cambridge platonists, but in great original writers like berkeley or coleridge, to plato and his ideas. that there is a truth higher than experience, of which the mind bears witness to herself, is a conviction which in our own generation has been enthusiastically asserted, and is perhaps gaining ground. of the greek authors who at the renaissance brought a new life into the world plato has had the greatest influence. the republic of plato is also the first treatise upon education, of which the writings of milton and locke, rousseau, jean paul, and goethe are the legitimate descendants. like dante or bunyan, he has a revelation of another life; like bacon, he is profoundly impressed with the unity of knowledge; in the early church he exercised a real influence on theology, and at the revival of literature on politics. even the fragments of his words when 'repeated at second-hand' (symp. d) have in all ages ravished the hearts of men, who have seen reflected in them their own higher nature. he is the father of idealism in philosophy, in politics, in literature. and many of the latest conceptions of modern thinkers and statesmen, such as the unity of knowledge, the reign of law, and the equality of the sexes, have been anticipated in a dream by him. * * * * * the argument of the republic is the search after justice, the nature of which is first hinted at by cephalus, the just and blameless {iv} old man--then discussed on the basis of proverbial morality by socrates and polemarchus--then caricatured by thrasymachus and partially explained by socrates--reduced to an abstraction by glaucon and adeimantus, and having become invisible in the individual reappears at length in the ideal state which is constructed by socrates. the first care of the rulers is to be education, of which an outline is drawn after the old hellenic model, providing only for an improved religion and morality, and more simplicity in music and gymnastic, a manlier strain of poetry, and greater harmony of the individual and the state. we are thus led on to the conception of a higher state, in which 'no man calls anything his own,' and in which there is neither 'marrying nor giving in marriage,' and 'kings are philosophers' and 'philosophers are kings;' and there is another and higher education, intellectual as well as moral and religious, of science as well as of art, and not of youth only but of the whole of life. such a state is hardly to be realized in this world and quickly degenerates. to the perfect ideal succeeds the government of the soldier and the lover of honour, this again declining into democracy, and democracy into tyranny, in an imaginary but regular order having not much resemblance to the actual facts. when 'the wheel has come full circle' we do not begin again with a new period of human life; but we have passed from the best to the worst, and there we end. the subject is then changed and the old quarrel of poetry and philosophy which had been more lightly treated in the earlier books of the republic is now resumed and fought out to a conclusion. poetry is discovered to be an imitation thrice removed from the truth, and homer, as well as the dramatic poets, having been condemned as an imitator, is sent into banishment along with them. and the idea of the state is supplemented by the revelation of a future life. the division into books, like all similar divisions,[ ] is probably later than the age of plato. the natural divisions are five in number;--( ) book i and the first half of book ii down to the paragraph beginning, 'i had always admired the genius of glaucon and adeimantus,' which is introductory; the first book containing a refutation of the popular and sophistical notions of justice, and concluding, like some of the earlier dialogues, without arriving at any definite result. to this is appended a restatement of the nature of justice {v} according to common opinion, and an answer is demanded to the question--what is justice, stripped of appearances? the second division ( ) includes the remainder of the second and the whole of the third and fourth books, which are mainly occupied with the construction of the first state and the first education. the third division ( ) consists of the fifth, sixth, and seventh books, in which philosophy rather than justice is the subject of enquiry, and the second state is constructed on principles of communism and ruled by philosophers, and the contemplation of the idea of good takes the place of the social and political virtues. in the eighth and ninth books ( ) the perversions of states and of the individuals who correspond to them are reviewed in succession; and the nature of pleasure and the principle of tyranny are further analysed in the individual man. the tenth book ( ) is the conclusion of the whole, in which the relations of philosophy to poetry are finally determined, and the happiness of the citizens in this life, which has now been assured, is crowned by the vision of another. [footnote : cp. sir g. c. lewis in the classical museum, vol. ii. p. .] or a more general division into two parts may be adopted; the first (books i-iv) containing the description of a state framed generally in accordance with hellenic notions of religion and morality, while in the second (books v-x) the hellenic state is transformed into an ideal kingdom of philosophy, of which all other governments are the perversions. these two points of view are really opposed, and the opposition is only veiled by the genius of plato. the republic, like the phaedrus (see introduction to phaedrus), is an imperfect whole; the higher light of philosophy breaks through the regularity of the hellenic temple, which at last fades away into the heavens ( b). whether this imperfection of structure arises from an enlargement of the plan; or from the imperfect reconcilement in the writer's own mind of the struggling elements of thought which are now first brought together by him; or, perhaps, from the composition of the work at different times--are questions, like the similar question about the iliad and the odyssey, which are worth asking, but which cannot have a distinct answer. in the age of plato there was no regular mode of publication, and an author would have the less scruple in altering or adding to a work which was known only to a few of his friends. there is no absurdity in supposing that he may have laid his labours aside for a time, or turned from one work to {vi} another; and such interruptions would be more likely to occur in the case of a long than of a short writing. in all attempts to determine the chronological order of the platonic writings on internal evidence, this uncertainty about any single dialogue being composed at one time is a disturbing element, which must be admitted to affect longer works, such as the republic and the laws, more than shorter ones. but, on the other hand, the seeming discrepancies of the republic may only arise out of the discordant elements which the philosopher has attempted to unite in a single whole, perhaps without being himself able to recognise the inconsistency which is obvious to us. for there is a judgment of after ages which few great writers have ever been able to anticipate for themselves. they do not perceive the want of connexion in their own writings, or the gaps in their systems which are visible enough to those who come after them. in the beginnings of literature and philosophy, amid the first efforts of thought and language, more inconsistencies occur than now, when the paths of speculation are well worn and the meaning of words precisely defined. for consistency, too, is the growth of time; and some of the greatest creations of the human mind have been wanting in unity. tried by this test, several of the platonic dialogues, according to our modern ideas, appear to be defective, but the deficiency is no proof that they were composed at different times or by different hands. and the supposition that the republic was written uninterruptedly and by a continuous effort is in some degree confirmed by the numerous references from one part of the work to another. the second title, 'concerning justice,' is not the one by which the republic is quoted, either by aristotle or generally in antiquity, and, like the other second titles of the platonic dialogues, may therefore be assumed to be of later date. morgenstern and others have asked whether the definition of justice, which is the professed aim, or the construction of the state is the principal argument of the work. the answer is, that the two blend in one, and are two faces of the same truth; for justice is the order of the state, and the state is the visible embodiment of justice under the conditions of human society. the one is the soul and the other is the body, and the greek ideal of the state, as of the individual, is a fair mind in a fair body. in hegelian phraseology the state is the reality of {vii} which justice is the idea. or, described in christian language, the kingdom of god is within, and yet developes into a church or external kingdom; 'the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens,' is reduced to the proportions of an earthly building. or, to use a platonic image, justice and the state are the warp and the woof which run through the whole texture. and when the constitution of the state is completed, the conception of justice is not dismissed, but reappears under the same or different names throughout the work, both as the inner law of the individual soul, and finally as the principle of rewards and punishments in another life. the virtues are based on justice, of which common honesty in buying and selling is the shadow, and justice is based on the idea of good, which is the harmony of the world, and is reflected both in the institutions of states and in motions of the heavenly bodies (cp. tim. ). the timaeus, which takes up the political rather than the ethical side of the republic, and is chiefly occupied with hypotheses concerning the outward world, yet contains many indications that the same law is supposed to reign over the state, over nature, and over man. too much, however, has been made of this question both in ancient and modern times. there is a stage of criticism in which all works, whether of nature or of art, are referred to design. now in ancient writings, and indeed in literature generally, there remains often a large element which was not comprehended in the original design. for the plan grows under the author's hand; new thoughts occur to him in the act of writing; he has not worked out the argument to the end before he begins. the reader who seeks to find some one idea under which the whole may be conceived, must necessarily seize on the vaguest and most general. thus stallbaum, who is dissatisfied with the ordinary explanations of the argument of the republic, imagines himself to have found the true argument 'in the representation of human life in a state perfected by justice, and governed according to the idea of good.' there may be some use in such general descriptions, but they can hardly be said to express the design of the writer. the truth is, that we may as well speak of many designs as of one; nor need anything be excluded from the plan of a great work to which the mind is naturally led by the association of ideas, and which does not interfere with the general purpose. what kind or degree of {viii} unity is to be sought after in a building, in the plastic arts, in poetry, in prose, is a problem which has to be determined relatively to the subject-matter. to plato himself, the enquiry 'what was the intention of the writer,' or 'what was the principal argument of the republic' would have been hardly intelligible, and therefore had better be at once dismissed (cp. the introduction to the phaedrus, vol. i.). is not the republic the vehicle of three or four great truths which, to plato's own mind, are most naturally represented in the form of the state? just as in the jewish prophets the reign of messiah, or 'the day of the lord,' or the suffering servant or people of god, or the 'sun of righteousness with healing in his wings' only convey, to us at least, their great spiritual ideals, so through the greek state plato reveals to us his own thoughts about divine perfection, which is the idea of good--like the sun in the visible world;--about human perfection, which is justice--about education beginning in youth and continuing in later years--about poets and sophists and tyrants who are the false teachers and evil rulers of mankind--about 'the world' which is the embodiment of them--about a kingdom which exists nowhere upon earth but is laid up in heaven to be the pattern and rule of human life. no such inspired creation is at unity with itself, any more than the clouds of heaven when the sun pierces through them. every shade of light and dark, of truth, and of fiction which is the veil of truth, is allowable in a work of philosophical imagination. it is not all on the same plane; it easily passes from ideas to myths and fancies, from facts to figures of speech. it is not prose but poetry, at least a great part of it, and ought not to be judged by the rules of logic or the probabilities of history. the writer is not fashioning his ideas into an artistic whole; they take possession of him and are too much for him. we have no need therefore to discuss whether a state such as plato has conceived is practicable or not, or whether the outward form or the inward life came first into the mind of the writer. for the practicability of his ideas has nothing to do with their truth (v. d); and the highest thoughts to which he attains may be truly said to bear the greatest 'marks of design'--justice more than the external frame-work of the state, the idea of good more than justice. the great science of dialectic or the organisation of ideas has no real content; but is only a type of the method or {ix} spirit in which the higher knowledge is to be pursued by the spectator of all time and all existence. it is in the fifth, sixth, and seventh books that plato reaches the 'summit of speculation,' and these, although they fail to satisfy the requirements of a modern thinker, may therefore be regarded as the most important, as they are also the most original, portions of the work. it is not necessary to discuss at length a minor question which has been raised by boeckh, respecting the imaginary date at which the conversation was held (the year b.c. which is proposed by him will do as well as any other); for a writer of fiction, and especially a writer who, like plato, is notoriously careless of chronology (cp. rep. i. , symp. a, etc.), only aims at general probability. whether all the persons mentioned in the republic could ever have met at any one time is not a difficulty which would have occurred to an athenian reading the work forty years later, or to plato himself at the time of writing (any more than to shakespeare respecting one of his own dramas); and need not greatly trouble us now. yet this may be a question having no answer 'which is still worth asking,' because the investigation shows that we cannot argue historically from the dates in plato; it would be useless therefore to waste time in inventing far-fetched reconcilements of them in order to avoid chronological difficulties, such, for example, as the conjecture of c. f. hermann, that glaucon and adeimantus are not the brothers but the uncles of plato (cp. apol. a), or the fancy of stallbaum that plato intentionally left anachronisms indicating the dates at which some of his dialogues were written. * * * * * the principal characters in the republic are cephalus, polemarchus, thrasymachus, socrates, glaucon, and adeimantus. cephalus appears in the introduction only, polemarchus drops at the end of the first argument, and thrasymachus is reduced to silence at the close of the first book. the main discussion is carried on by socrates, glaucon, and adeimantus. among the company are lysias (the orator) and euthydemus, the sons of cephalus and brothers of polemarchus, an unknown charmantides--these are mute auditors; also there is cleitophon, who once interrupts ( a), where, as in the dialogue which bears his name, he appears as the friend and ally of thrasymachus. {x} cephalus, the patriarch of the house, has been appropriately engaged in offering a sacrifice. he is the pattern of an old man who has almost done with life, and is at peace with himself and with all mankind. he feels that he is drawing nearer to the world below, and seems to linger around the memory of the past. he is eager that socrates should come to visit him, fond of the poetry of the last generation, happy in the consciousness of a well-spent life, glad at having escaped from the tyranny of youthful lusts. his love of conversation, his affection, his indifference to riches, even his garrulity, are interesting traits of character. he is not one of those who have nothing to say, because their whole mind has been absorbed in making money. yet he acknowledges that riches have the advantage of placing men above the temptation to dishonesty or falsehood. the respectful attention shown to him by socrates, whose love of conversation, no less than the mission imposed upon him by the oracle, leads him to ask questions of all men, young and old alike (cp. i. a), should also be noted. who better suited to raise the question of justice than cephalus, whose life might seem to be the expression of it? the moderation with which old age is pictured by cephalus as a very tolerable portion of existence is characteristic, not only of him, but of greek feeling generally, and contrasts with the exaggeration of cicero in the de senectute. the evening of life is described by plato in the most expressive manner, yet with the fewest possible touches. as cicero remarks (ep. ad attic. iv. ), the aged cephalus would have been out of place in the discussion which follows, and which he could neither have understood nor taken part in without a violation of dramatic propriety (cp. lysimachus in the laches, ). his 'son and heir' polemarchus has the frankness and impetuousness of youth; he is for detaining socrates by force in the opening scene, and will not 'let him off' (v. b) on the subject of women and children. like cephalus, he is limited in his point of view, and represents the proverbial stage of morality which has rules of life rather than principles; and he quotes simonides (cp. aristoph. clouds, ff.) as his father had quoted pindar. but after this he has no more to say; the answers which he makes are only elicited from him by the dialectic of socrates. he has not yet experienced the influence of the sophists like glaucon and {xi} adeimantus, nor is he sensible of the necessity of refuting them; he belongs to the pre-socratic or pre-dialectical age. he is incapable of arguing, and is bewildered by socrates to such a degree that he does not know what he is saying. he is made to admit that justice is a thief, and that the virtues follow the analogy of the arts. from his brother lysias (contra eratosth. p. ) we learn that he fell a victim to the thirty tyrants, but no allusion is here made to his fate, nor to the circumstance that cephalus and his family were of syracusan origin, and had migrated from thurii to athens. the 'chalcedonian giant,' thrasymachus, of whom we have already heard in the phaedrus ( d), is the personification of the sophists, according to plato's conception of them, in some of their worst characteristics. he is vain and blustering, refusing to discourse unless he is paid, fond of making an oration, and hoping thereby to escape the inevitable socrates; but a mere child in argument, and unable to foresee that the next 'move' (to use a platonic expression) will 'shut him up' (vi. b). he has reached the stage of framing general notions, and in this respect is in advance of cephalus and polemarchus. but he is incapable of defending them in a discussion, and vainly tries to cover his confusion with banter and insolence. whether such doctrines as are attributed to him by plato were really held either by him or by any other sophist is uncertain; in the infancy of philosophy serious errors about morality might easily grow up--they are certainly put into the mouths of speakers in thucydides; but we are concerned at present with plato's description of him, and not with the historical reality. the inequality of the contest adds greatly to the humour of the scene. the pompous and empty sophist is utterly helpless in the hands of the great master of dialectic, who knows how to touch all the springs of vanity and weakness in him. he is greatly irritated by the irony of socrates, but his noisy and imbecile rage only lays him more and more open to the thrusts of his assailant. his determination to cram down their throats, or put 'bodily into their souls' his own words, elicits a cry of horror from socrates. the state of his temper is quite as worthy of remark as the process of the argument. nothing is more amusing than his complete submission when he has been once thoroughly beaten. at first he seems to continue {xii} the discussion with reluctance, but soon with apparent good-will, and he even testifies his interest at a later stage by one or two occasional remarks (v. a, b). when attacked by glaucon (vi. c, d) he is humorously protected by socrates 'as one who has never been his enemy and is now his friend.' from cicero and quintilian and from aristotle's rhetoric (iii. i. ; ii. , ) we learn that the sophist whom plato has made so ridiculous was a man of note whose writings were preserved in later ages. the play on his name which was made by his contemporary herodicus (aris. rhet. ii. , ), 'thou wast ever bold in battle,' seems to show that the description of him is not devoid of verisimilitude. when thrasymachus has been silenced, the two principal respondents, glaucon and adeimantus, appear on the scene: here, as in greek tragedy (cp. introd. to phaedo), three actors are introduced. at first sight the two sons of ariston may seem to wear a family likeness, like the two friends simmias and cebes in the phaedo. but on a nearer examination of them the similarity vanishes, and they are seen to be distinct characters. glaucon is the impetuous youth who can 'just never have enough of fechting' (cp. the character of him in xen. mem. iii. ); the man of pleasure who is acquainted with the mysteries of love (v. d); the 'juvenis qui gaudet canibus,' and who improves the breed of animals (v. a); the lover of art and music (iii. d, e) who has all the experiences of youthful life. he is full of quickness and penetration, piercing easily below the clumsy platitudes of thrasymachus to the real difficulty; he turns out to the light the seamy side of human life, and yet does not lose faith in the just and true. it is glaucon who seizes what may be termed the ludicrous relation of the philosopher to the world, to whom a state of simplicity is 'a city of pigs,' who is always prepared with a jest (iii. c, a; v. , , c; vi. c; ix. ) when the argument offers him an opportunity, and who is ever ready to second the humour of socrates and to appreciate the ridiculous, whether in the connoisseurs of music (vii. a), or in the lovers of theatricals (v. d), or in the fantastic behaviour of the citizens of democracy (viii. foll.). his weaknesses are several times alluded to by socrates (iii. e; v. d, e), who, however, will not allow him to be attacked by his brother adeimantus (viii. d, e). he is a soldier, and, like adeimantus, has been {xiii} distinguished at the battle of megara ( a, anno ?)... the character of adeimantus is deeper and graver, and the profounder objections are commonly put into his mouth. glaucon is more demonstrative, and generally opens the game. adeimantus pursues the argument further. glaucon has more of the liveliness and quick sympathy of youth; adeimantus has the maturer judgment of a grown-up man of the world. in the second book, when glaucon insists that justice and injustice shall be considered without regard to their consequences, adeimantus remarks that they are regarded by mankind in general only for the sake of their consequences; and in a similar vein of reflection he urges at the beginning of the fourth book that socrates fails in making his citizens happy, and is answered that happiness is not the first but the second thing, not the direct aim but the indirect consequence of the good government of a state. in the discussion about religion and mythology, adeimantus is the respondent (iii. - ), but glaucon breaks in with a slight jest, and carries on the conversation in a lighter tone about music and gymnastic to the end of the book. it is adeimantus again who volunteers the criticism of common sense on the socratic method of argument (vi. b), and who refuses to let socrates pass lightly over the question of women and children (v. ). it is adeimantus who is the respondent in the more argumentative, as glaucon in the lighter and more imaginative portions of the dialogue. for example, throughout the greater part of the sixth book, the causes of the corruption of philosophy and the conception of the idea of good are discussed with adeimantus. at p. c, glaucon resumes his place of principal respondent; but he has a difficulty in apprehending the higher education of socrates, and makes some false hits in the course of the discussion ( d, d). once more adeimantus returns (viii. ) with the allusion to his brother glaucon whom he compares to the contentious state; in the next book (ix. ) he is again superseded, and glaucon continues to the end (x. b). thus in a succession of characters plato represents the successive stages of morality, beginning with the athenian gentleman of the olden time, who is followed by the practical man of that day regulating his life by proverbs and saws; to him succeeds the wild generalization of the sophists, and lastly come the young disciples of the great teacher, who know the sophistical arguments {xiv} but will not be convinced by them, and desire to go deeper into the nature of things. these too, like cephalus, polemarchus, thrasymachus, are clearly distinguished from one another. neither in the republic, nor in any other dialogue of plato, is a single character repeated. the delineation of socrates in the republic is not wholly consistent. in the first book we have more of the real socrates, such as he is depicted in the memorabilia of xenophon, in the earliest dialogues of plato, and in the apology. he is ironical, provoking, questioning, the old enemy of the sophists, ready to put on the mask of silenus as well as to argue seriously. but in the sixth book his enmity towards the sophists abates; he acknowledges that they are the representatives rather than the corrupters of the world (vi. a). he also becomes more dogmatic and constructive, passing beyond the range either of the political or the speculative ideas of the real socrates. in one passage (vi. c) plato himself seems to intimate that the time had now come for socrates, who had passed his whole life in philosophy, to give his own opinion and not to be always repeating the notions of other men. there is no evidence that either the idea of good or the conception of a perfect state were comprehended in the socratic teaching, though he certainly dwelt on the nature of the universal and of final causes (cp. xen. mem. i. ; phaedo ); and a deep thinker like him, in his thirty or forty years of public teaching, could hardly have failed to touch on the nature of family relations, for which there is also some positive evidence in the memorabilia (mem. i. , foll.). the socratic method is nominally retained; and every inference is either put into the mouth of the respondent or represented as the common discovery of him and socrates. but any one can see that this is a mere form, of which the affectation grows wearisome as the work advances. the method of enquiry has passed into a method of teaching in which by the help of interlocutors the same thesis is looked at from various points of view. the nature of the process is truly characterized by glaucon, when he describes himself as a companion who is not good for much in an investigation, but can see what he is shown (iv. c), and may, perhaps, give the answer to a question more fluently than another (v. a; cp. a). neither can we be absolutely certain that socrates himself {xv} taught the immortality of the soul, which is unknown to his disciple glaucon in the republic (x. d; cp. vi. d, e; apol. , ); nor is there any reason to suppose that he used myths or revelations of another world as a vehicle of instruction, or that he would have banished poetry or have denounced the greek mythology. his favourite oath is retained, and a slight mention is made of the daemonium, or internal sign, which is alluded to by socrates as a phenomenon peculiar to himself (vi. c). a real element of socratic teaching, which is more prominent in the republic than in any of the other dialogues of plato, is the use of example and illustration ([greek: ta\ phortika\ au)tô=| prosphe/rontes], iv. e): 'let us apply the test of common instances.' 'you,' says adeimantus, ironically, in the sixth book, 'are so unaccustomed to speak in images.' and this use of examples or images, though truly socratic in origin, is enlarged by the genius of plato into the form of an allegory or parable, which embodies in the concrete what has been already described, or is about to be described, in the abstract. thus the figure of the cave in book vii is a recapitulation of the divisions of knowledge in book vi. the composite animal in book ix is an allegory of the parts of the soul. the noble captain and the ship and the true pilot in book vi are a figure of the relation of the people to the philosophers in the state which has been described. other figures, such as the dog (ii. a, d; iii. a, a; v. d), or the marriage of the portionless maiden (vi. , ), or the drones and wasps in the eighth and ninth books, also form links of connexion in long passages, or are used to recall previous discussions. plato is most true to the character of his master when he describes him as 'not of this world.' and with this representation of him the ideal state and the other paradoxes of the republic are quite in accordance, though they cannot be shown to have been speculations of socrates. to him, as to other great teachers both philosophical and religious, when they looked upward, the world seemed to be the embodiment of error and evil. the common sense of mankind has revolted against this view, or has only partially admitted it. and even in socrates himself the sterner judgement of the multitude at times passes into a sort of ironical pity or love. men in general are incapable of philosophy, and are therefore at enmity with the philosopher; but their misunderstanding of him {xvi} is unavoidable (vi. foll.; ix. d): for they have never seen him as he truly is in his own image; they are only acquainted with artificial systems possessing no native force of truth--words which admit of many applications. their leaders have nothing to measure with, and are therefore ignorant of their own stature. but they are to be pitied or laughed at, not to be quarrelled with; they mean well with their nostrums, if they could only learn that they are cutting off a hydra's head (iv. d, e). this moderation towards those who are in error is one of the most characteristic features of socrates in the republic (vi. - ). in all the different representations of socrates, whether of xenophon or plato, and amid the differences of the earlier or later dialogues, he always retains the character of the unwearied and disinterested seeker after truth, without which he would have ceased to be socrates. * * * * * leaving the characters we may now analyse the contents of the republic, and then proceed to consider ( ) the general aspects of this hellenic ideal of the state, ( ) the modern lights in which the thoughts of plato may be read. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic i._ analysis.] book i. the republic opens with a truly greek scene--a festival in honour of the goddess bendis which is held in the piraeus; to this is added the promise of an equestrian torch-race in the evening. the whole work is supposed to be recited by socrates on the day after the festival to a small party, consisting of critias, timaeus, hermocrates, and another; this we learn from the first words of the timaeus. when the rhetorical advantage of reciting the dialogue has been gained, the attention is not distracted by any reference to the audience; nor is the reader further reminded of the extraordinary length of the narrative. of the numerous company, three only take any serious part in the discussion; nor are we informed whether in the evening they went to the torch-race, or talked, as in the symposium, through the night. the manner in which the conversation has arisen is described *stephanus * as follows:--socrates and his companion glaucon are about to leave the festival when they are detained by a message from polemarchus, who speedily appears accompanied by adeimantus, the brother of glaucon, and with playful violence compels them to remain, promising them not only {xvii} the torch-race, * * but the pleasure of conversation with the young, which to socrates is a far greater attraction. they return to the house of cephalus, polemarchus' father, now in extreme old age, who is found sitting upon a cushioned seat crowned for a sacrifice. 'you should come to me oftener, socrates, for i am too old to go to you; and at my time of life, having lost other pleasures, i care the more for conversation.' * * socrates asks him what he thinks of age, to which the old man replies, that the sorrows and discontents of age are to be attributed to the tempers of men, and that age is a time of peace in which the tyranny of the passions is no longer felt. yes, replies socrates, but the world will say, cephalus, that you are happy in old age because you are rich. 'and there is something in what they say, socrates, but not so much as they imagine-- * * as themistocles replied to the seriphian, "neither you, if you had been an athenian, nor i, if i had been a seriphian, would ever have been famous," i might in like manner reply to you, neither a good poor man can be happy in age, nor yet a bad rich man.' socrates remarks that cephalus appears not to care about riches, a quality which he ascribes to his having inherited, not acquired them, and would like to know what he considers to be the chief advantage of them. cephalus answers that when you are old the belief in the world below grows upon you, and then to have done justice and never to have been compelled to do injustice through poverty, * * and never to have deceived anyone, are felt to be unspeakable blessings. socrates, who is evidently preparing for an argument, next asks, what is the meaning of the word 'justice'? to tell the truth and pay your debts? no more than this? or must we admit exceptions? ought i, for example, to put back into the hands of my friend, who has gone mad, the sword which i borrowed of him when he was in his right mind? 'there must be exceptions.' 'and yet,' says polemarchus, 'the definition which has been given has the authority of simonides.' here cephalus retires to look after the sacrifices, and bequeaths, as socrates facetiously remarks, the possession of the argument to his heir, polemarchus.... [sidenote: _republic i._ introduction.] the description of old age is finished, and plato, as his manner is, has touched the key-note of the whole work in asking for the definition of justice, first suggesting the question which glaucon afterwards pursues respecting external goods, and preparing for {xviii} the concluding mythus of the world below in the slight allusion of cephalus. the portrait of the just man is a natural frontispiece or introduction to the long discourse which follows, and may perhaps imply that in all our perplexity about the nature of justice, there is no difficulty in discerning 'who is a just man.' the first explanation has been supported by a saying of simonides; and now socrates has a mind to show that the resolution of justice into two unconnected precepts, which have no common principle, fails to satisfy the demands of dialectic. [sidenote: _republic i._ analysis.] ... * * he proceeds: what did simonides mean by this saying of his? did he mean that i was to give back arms to a madman? 'no, not in that case, not if the parties are friends, and evil would result. he meant that you were to do what was proper, good to friends and harm to enemies.' every act does something to somebody; and following this analogy, socrates asks, what is this due and proper thing which justice does, and to whom? he is answered that justice does good to friends and harm to enemies. but in what way good or harm? 'in making alliances with the one, and going to war with the other.' then in time of peace what is the good of justice? * * the answer is that justice is of use in contracts, and contracts are money partnerships. yes; but how in such partnerships is the just man of more use than any other man? 'when you want to have money safely kept and not used.' then justice will be useful when money is useless. and there is another difficulty: justice, like the art of war or any other art, must be of opposites, * * good at attack as well as at defence, at stealing as well as at guarding. but then justice is a thief, though a hero notwithstanding, like autolycus, the homeric hero, who was 'excellent above all men in theft and perjury'--to such a pass have you and homer and simonides brought us; though i do not forget that the thieving must be for the good of friends and the harm of enemies. and still there arises another question: are friends to be interpreted as real or seeming; enemies as real or seeming? * * and are our friends to be only the good, and our enemies to be the evil? the answer is, that we must do good to our seeming and real good friends, and evil to our seeming and real evil enemies--good to the good, evil to the evil. but ought we to render evil for evil at all, when to do so will only make men more evil? can justice produce injustice any more than the art of horsemanship {xix} can make bad horsemen, or heat produce cold? the final conclusion is, that no sage or poet ever said that the just return evil for evil; this was a maxim of some rich and mighty man, periander, * * perdiccas, or ismenias the theban (about b.c. - ).... * * * * * [sidenote: _republic i._ introduction.] thus the first stage of aphoristic or unconscious morality is shown to be inadequate to the wants of the age; the authority of the poets is set aside, and through the winding mazes of dialectic we make an approach to the christian precept of forgiveness of injuries. similar words are applied by the persian mystic poet to the divine being when the questioning spirit is stirred within him:--'if because i do evil, thou punishest me by evil, what is the difference between thee and me?' in this both plato and khèyam rise above the level of many christian (?) theologians. the first definition of justice easily passes into the second; for the simple words 'to speak the truth and pay your debts' is substituted the more abstract 'to do good to your friends and harm to your enemies.' either of these explanations gives a sufficient rule of life for plain men, but they both fall short of the precision of philosophy. we may note in passing the antiquity of casuistry, which not only arises out of the conflict of established principles in particular cases, but also out of the effort to attain them, and is prior as well as posterior to our fundamental notions of morality. the 'interrogation' of moral ideas; the appeal to the authority of homer; the conclusion that the maxim, 'do good to your friends and harm to your enemies,' being erroneous, could not have been the word of any great man (cp. ii. a, b), are all of them very characteristic of the platonic socrates. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic i._ analysis.] ... here thrasymachus, who has made several attempts to interrupt, but has hitherto been kept in order by the company, takes advantage of a pause and rushes into the arena, beginning, like a savage animal, with a roar. 'socrates,' he says, 'what folly is this?--why do you agree to be vanquished by one another in a pretended argument?' he then prohibits all the ordinary definitions of justice; * * to which socrates replies that he cannot tell how many twelve is, if he is forbidden to say x , or x , or x , or x . at first thrasymachus is reluctant to argue; but at length, * * with a promise of payment on the part of {xx} the company and of praise from socrates, he is induced to open the game. 'listen,' he says, 'my answer is that might is right, justice the interest of the stronger: now praise me.' let me understand you first. do you mean that because polydamas the wrestler, who is stronger than we are, finds the eating of beef for his interest, the eating of beef is also for our interest, who are not so strong? thrasymachus is indignant at the illustration, and in pompous words, apparently intended to restore dignity to the argument, he explains his meaning to be that the rulers make laws for their own interests. * * but suppose, says socrates, that the ruler or stronger makes a mistake--then the interest of the stronger is not his interest. thrasymachus is saved from this speedy downfall by his disciple cleitophon, who introduces the word 'thinks;' * * --not the actual interest of the ruler, but what he thinks or what seems to be his interest, is justice. the contradiction is escaped by the unmeaning evasion: for though his real and apparent interests may differ, what the ruler thinks to be his interest will always remain what he thinks to be his interest. of course this was not the original assertion, nor is the new interpretation accepted by thrasymachus himself. but socrates is not disposed to quarrel about words, if, as he significantly insinuates, his adversary has changed his mind. in what follows thrasymachus does in fact withdraw his admission that the ruler may make a mistake, for he affirms that the ruler as a ruler is infallible. * * socrates is quite ready to accept the new position, which he equally turns against thrasymachus by the help of the analogy of the arts. * * every art or science has an interest, but this interest is to be distinguished from the accidental interest of the artist, and is only concerned with the good of the things or persons which come under the art. and justice has an interest which is the interest not of the ruler or judge, but of those who come under his sway. thrasymachus is on the brink of the inevitable conclusion, when he makes a bold diversion. * * 'tell me, socrates,' he says, 'have you a nurse?' what a question! why do you ask? 'because, if you have, she neglects you and lets you go about drivelling, and has not even taught you to know the shepherd from the sheep. for you fancy that shepherds and rulers never think of their own interest, but only of their sheep or subjects, {xxi} whereas the truth is that they fatten them for their use, sheep and subjects alike. and experience proves that in every relation of life the just man is the loser and the unjust the gainer, * * especially where injustice is on the grand scale, which is quite another thing from the petty rogueries of swindlers and burglars and robbers of temples. the language of men proves this--our 'gracious' and 'blessed' tyrant and the like--all which tends to show ( ) that justice is the interest of the stronger; and ( ) that injustice is more profitable and also stronger than justice.' thrasymachus, who is better at a speech than at a close argument, having deluged the company with words, has a mind to escape. * * but the others will not let him go, and socrates adds a humble but earnest request that he will not desert them at such a crisis of their fate. 'and what can i do more for you?' he says; 'would you have me put the words bodily into your souls?' god forbid! replies socrates; but we want you to be consistent in the use of terms, and not to employ 'physician' in an exact sense, and then again 'shepherd' or 'ruler' in an inexact,--if the words are strictly taken, the ruler and the shepherd look only to the good of their people or flocks and not to their own: whereas you insist that rulers are solely actuated by love of office. 'no doubt about it,' replies thrasymachus. * * then why are they paid? is not the reason, that their interest is not comprehended in their art, and is therefore the concern of another art, the art of pay, which is common to the arts in general, and therefore not identical with any one of them? * * nor would any man be a ruler unless he were induced by the hope of reward or the fear of punishment;--the reward is money or honour, the punishment is the necessity of being ruled by a man worse than himself. and if a state (or church) were composed entirely of good men, they would be affected by the last motive only; and there would be as much 'nolo episcopari' as there is at present of the opposite.... [sidenote: _republic i._ introduction.] the satire on existing governments is heightened by the simple and apparently incidental manner in which the last remark is introduced. there is a similar irony in the argument that the governors of mankind do not like being in office, and that therefore they demand pay. [sidenote: _republic i._ analysis.] ... enough of this: the other assertion of thrasymachus is far {xxii} more important--that the unjust life is more gainful than the just. * * now, as you and i, glaucon, are not convinced by him, we must reply to him; but if we try to compare their respective gains we shall want a judge to decide for us; we had better therefore proceed by making mutual admissions of the truth to one another. thrasymachus had asserted that perfect injustice was more gainful than perfect justice, and after a little hesitation he is induced by socrates * * to admit the still greater paradox that injustice is virtue and justice vice. socrates praises his frankness, and assumes the attitude of one whose only wish is to understand the meaning of his opponents. at the same time he is weaving a net in which thrasymachus is finally enclosed. the admission is elicited from him that the just man seeks to gain an advantage over the unjust only, but not over the just, while the unjust would gain an advantage over either. socrates, in order to test this statement, employs once more the favourite analogy of the arts. * * the musician, doctor, skilled artist of any sort, does not seek to gain more than the skilled, but only more than the unskilled (that is to say, he works up to a rule, standard, law, and does not exceed it), whereas the unskilled makes random efforts at excess. thus the skilled falls on the side of the good, and the unskilled on the side of the evil, and the just is the skilled, and the unjust is the unskilled. there was great difficulty in bringing thrasymachus to the point; the day was hot and he was streaming with perspiration, and for the first time in his life he was seen to blush. but his other thesis that injustice was stronger than justice has not yet been refuted, and socrates now proceeds to the consideration of this, which, with the assistance of thrasymachus, he hopes to clear up; the latter is at first churlish, but in the judicious hands of socrates is soon restored to good humour: * * is there not honour among thieves? is not the strength of injustice only a remnant of justice? is not absolute injustice absolute weakness also? * * a house that is divided against itself cannot stand; two men who quarrel detract from one another's strength, and he who is at war with himself is the enemy of himself and the gods. not wickedness therefore, but semi-wickedness flourishes in states,--a remnant of good is needed in order to make union in action possible,--there is no kingdom of evil in this world. {xxiii} another question has not been answered: is the just or the unjust the happier? to this we reply, that every art has an end and an excellence or virtue by which the end is accomplished. and is not the end of the soul happiness, and justice the excellence of the soul by which happiness is attained? * * justice and happiness being thus shown to be inseparable, the question whether the just or the unjust is the happier has disappeared. thrasymachus replies: 'let this be your entertainment, socrates, at the festival of bendis.' yes; and a very good entertainment with which your kindness has supplied me, now that you have left off scolding. and yet not a good entertainment--but that was my own fault, for i tasted of too many things. first of all the nature of justice was the subject of our enquiry, and then whether justice is virtue and wisdom, or evil and folly; and then the comparative advantages of just and unjust: and the sum of all is that i know not what justice is; how then shall i know whether the just is happy or not?... [sidenote: _republic i._ introduction.] thus the sophistical fabric has been demolished, chiefly by appealing to the analogy of the arts. 'justice is like the arts ( ) in having no external interest, and ( ) in not aiming at excess, and ( ) justice is to happiness what the implement of the workman is to his work.' at this the modern reader is apt to stumble, because he forgets that plato is writing in an age when the arts and the virtues, like the moral and intellectual faculties, were still undistinguished. among early enquirers into the nature of human action the arts helped to fill up the void of speculation; and at first the comparison of the arts and the virtues was not perceived by them to be fallacious. they only saw the points of agreement in them and not the points of difference. virtue, like art, must take means to an end; good manners are both an art and a virtue; character is naturally described under the image of a statue (ii. d; vii. c); and there are many other figures of speech which are readily transferred from art to morals. the next generation cleared up these perplexities; or at least supplied after ages with a further analysis of them. the contemporaries of plato were in a state of transition, and had not yet fully realized the common-sense distinction of aristotle, that 'virtue is concerned with action, art with production' (nic. eth. vi. ), or that 'virtue implies intention and constancy of purpose,' {xxiv} whereas 'art requires knowledge only' (nic. eth. vi. ). and yet in the absurdities which follow from some uses of the analogy (cp. i. e, b), there seems to be an intimation conveyed that virtue is more than art. this is implied in the _reductio ad absurdum_ that 'justice is a thief,' and in the dissatisfaction which socrates expresses at the final result. the expression 'an art of pay' (i. b) which is described as 'common to all the arts' is not in accordance with the ordinary use of language. nor is it employed elsewhere either by plato or by any other greek writer. it is suggested by the argument, and seems to extend the conception of art to doing as well as making. another flaw or inaccuracy of language may be noted in the words (i. c) 'men who are injured are made more unjust.' for those who are injured are not necessarily made worse, but only harmed or ill-treated. the second of the three arguments, 'that the just does not aim at excess,' has a real meaning, though wrapped up in an enigmatical form. that the good is of the nature of the finite is a peculiarly hellenic sentiment, which may be compared with the language of those modern writers who speak of virtue as fitness, and of freedom as obedience to law. the mathematical or logical notion of limit easily passes into an ethical one, and even finds a mythological expression in the conception of envy ([greek: phtho/nos]). ideas of measure, equality, order, unity, proportion, still linger in the writings of moralists; and the true spirit of the fine arts is better conveyed by such terms than by superlatives. 'when workmen strive to do better than well, they do confound their skill in covetousness.' (king john, act iv. sc. .) the harmony of the soul and body (iii. d), and of the parts of the soul with one another (iv. c), a harmony 'fairer than that of musical notes,' is the true hellenic mode of conceiving the perfection of human nature. in what may be called the epilogue of the discussion with thrasymachus, plato argues that evil is not a principle of strength, but of discord and dissolution, just touching the question which has been often treated in modern times by theologians and philosophers, of the negative nature of evil (cp. on the other hand x. ). in the last argument we trace the germ of the {xxv} aristotelian doctrine of an end and a virtue directed towards the end, which again is suggested by the arts. the final reconcilement of justice and happiness and the identity of the individual and the state are also intimated. socrates reassumes the character of a 'know-nothing;' at the same time he appears to be not wholly satisfied with the manner in which the argument has been conducted. nothing is concluded; but the tendency of the dialectical process, here as always, is to enlarge our conception of ideas, and to widen their application to human life. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic ii._ analysis.] book ii. thrasymachus is pacified, * * but the intrepid glaucon insists on continuing the argument. he is not satisfied with the indirect manner in which, at the end of the last book, socrates had disposed of the question 'whether the just or the unjust is the happier.' he begins by dividing goods into three classes:--first, goods desirable in themselves; secondly, goods desirable in themselves and for their results; thirdly, goods desirable for their results only. he then asks socrates in which of the three classes he would place justice. * * in the second class, replies socrates, among goods desirable for themselves and also for their results. 'then the world in general are of another mind, for they say that justice belongs to the troublesome class of goods which are desirable for their results only.' socrates answers that this is the doctrine of thrasymachus which he rejects. glaucon thinks that thrasymachus was too ready to listen to the voice of the charmer, and proposes to consider the nature of justice and injustice in themselves and apart from the results and rewards of them which the world is always dinning in his ears. he will first of all speak of the nature and origin of justice; secondly, of the manner in which men view justice as a necessity and not a good; and thirdly, he will prove the reasonableness of this view. 'to do injustice is said to be a good; to suffer injustice an evil. as the evil is discovered by experience to be greater than the good, * * the sufferers, who cannot also be doers, make a compact that they will have neither, and this compact or mean is called justice, but is really the impossibility of doing injustice. no one would observe such a compact if he were not obliged. let us suppose that the just and unjust have two rings, like that of gyges {xxvi} in the well-known story, which make them invisible, * * and then no difference will appear in them, for every one will do evil if he can. and he who abstains will be regarded by the world as a fool for his pains. men may praise him in public out of fear for themselves, but they will laugh at him in their hearts. (cp. gorgias, b.) 'and now let us frame an ideal of the just and unjust. imagine the unjust man to be master of his craft, seldom making mistakes and easily correcting them; having gifts of money, speech, strength-- * * the greatest villain bearing the highest character: and at his side let us place the just in his nobleness and simplicity--being, not seeming--without name or reward--clothed in his justice only--the best of men who is thought to be the worst, and let him die as he has lived. i might add (but i would rather put the rest into the mouth of the panegyrists of injustice--they will tell you) that the just man will be scourged, racked, bound, will have his eyes put out, and will at last be crucified [literally _impaled_]--and all this because he ought to have preferred seeming to being. * * how different is the case of the unjust who clings to appearance as the true reality! his high character makes him a ruler; he can marry where he likes, trade where he likes, help his friends and hurt his enemies; having got rich by dishonesty he can worship the gods better, and will therefore be more loved by them than the just.' i was thinking what to answer, when adeimantus joined in the already unequal fray. he considered that the most important point of all had been omitted:--'men are taught to be just for the sake of rewards; * * parents and guardians make reputation the incentive to virtue. and other advantages are promised by them of a more solid kind, such as wealthy marriages and high offices. there are the pictures in homer and hesiod of fat sheep and heavy fleeces, rich corn-fields and trees toppling with fruit, which the gods provide in this life for the just. and the orphic poets add a similar picture of another. the heroes of musaeus and eumolpus lie on couches at a festival, with garlands on their heads, enjoying as the meed of virtue a paradise of immortal drunkenness. some go further, and speak of a fair posterity in the third and fourth generation. but the wicked they bury in a slough and make them carry water in a sieve: and in this life they {xxvii} attribute to them the infamy which glaucon was assuming to be the lot of the just who are supposed to be unjust. * * 'take another kind of argument which is found both in poetry and prose:--"virtue," as hesiod says, "is honourable but difficult, vice is easy and profitable." you may often see the wicked in great prosperity and the righteous afflicted by the will of heaven. and mendicant prophets knock at rich men's doors, promising to atone for the sins of themselves or their fathers in an easy fashion with sacrifices and festive games, or with charms and invocations to get rid of an enemy good or bad by divine help and at a small charge;--they appeal to books professing to be written by musaeus and orpheus, and carry away the minds of whole cities, and promise to "get souls out of purgatory;" and if we refuse to listen to them, * * no one knows what will happen to us. 'when a lively-minded ingenuous youth hears all this, what will be his conclusion? "will he," in the language of pindar, "make justice his high tower, or fortify himself with crooked deceit?" justice, he reflects, without the appearance of justice, is misery and ruin; injustice has the promise of a glorious life. appearance is master of truth and lord of happiness. to appearance then i will turn,--i will put on the show of virtue and trail behind me the fox of archilochus. i hear some one saying that "wickedness is not easily concealed," to which i reply that "nothing great is easy." union and force and rhetoric will do much; and if men say that they cannot prevail over the gods, still how do we know that there are gods? only from the poets, who acknowledge that they may be appeased by sacrifices. * * then why not sin and pay for indulgences out of your sin? for if the righteous are only unpunished, still they have no further reward, while the wicked may be unpunished and have the pleasure of sinning too. but what of the world below? nay, says the argument, there are atoning powers who will set that matter right, as the poets, who are the sons of the gods, tell us; and this is confirmed by the authority of the state. 'how can we resist such arguments in favour of injustice? add good manners, and, as the wise tell us, we shall make the best of both worlds. who that is not a miserable caitiff will refrain from smiling at the praises of justice? even if a man knows the better part he will not be angry with others; for he knows also that {xxviii} more than human virtue is needed to save a man, and that he only praises justice who is incapable of injustice. 'the origin of the evil is that all men from the beginning, heroes, poets, instructors of youth, have always asserted "the temporal dispensation," the honours and profits of justice. * * had we been taught in early youth the power of justice and injustice inherent in the soul, and unseen by any human or divine eye, we should not have needed others to be our guardians, but every one would have been the guardian of himself. this is what i want you to show, socrates;--other men use arguments which rather tend to strengthen the position of thrasymachus that "might is right;" but from you i expect better things. and please, as glaucon said, to exclude reputation; let the just be thought unjust and the unjust just, and do you still prove to us the superiority of justice.'... [sidenote: _republic ii._ introduction.] the thesis, which for the sake of argument has been maintained by glaucon, is the converse of that of thrasymachus--not right is the interest of the stronger, but right is the necessity of the weaker. starting from the same premises he carries the analysis of society a step further back;--might is still right, but the might is the weakness of the many combined against the strength of the few. there have been theories in modern as well as in ancient times which have a family likeness to the speculations of glaucon; e.g. that power is the foundation of right; or that a monarch has a divine right to govern well or ill; or that virtue is self-love or the love of power; or that war is the natural state of man; or that private vices are public benefits. all such theories have a kind of plausibility from their partial agreement with experience. for human nature oscillates between good and evil, and the motives of actions and the origin of institutions may be explained to a certain extent on either hypothesis according to the character or point of view of a particular thinker. the obligation of maintaining authority under all circumstances and sometimes by rather questionable means is felt strongly and has become a sort of instinct among civilized men. the divine right of kings, or more generally of governments, is one of the forms under which this natural feeling is expressed. nor again is there any evil which has not some accompaniment of good or pleasure; nor any good {xxix} which is free from some alloy of evil; nor any noble or generous thought which may not be attended by a shadow or the ghost of a shadow of self-interest or of self-love. we know that all human actions are imperfect; but we do not therefore attribute them to the worse rather than to the better motive or principle. such a philosophy is both foolish and false, like that opinion of the clever rogue who assumes all other men to be like himself (iii. c). and theories of this sort do not represent the real nature of the state, which is based on a vague sense of right gradually corrected and enlarged by custom and law (although capable also of perversion), any more than they describe the origin of society, which is to be sought in the family and in the social and religious feelings of man. nor do they represent the average character of individuals, which cannot be explained simply on a theory of evil, but has always a counteracting element of good. and as men become better such theories appear more and more untruthful to them, because they are more conscious of their own disinterestedness. a little experience may make a man a cynic; a great deal will bring him back to a truer and kindlier view of the mixed nature of himself and his fellow men. the two brothers ask socrates to prove to them that the just is happy when they have taken from him all that in which happiness is ordinarily supposed to consist. not that there is ( ) any absurdity in the attempt to frame a notion of justice apart from circumstances. for the ideal must always be a paradox when compared with the ordinary conditions of human life. neither the stoical ideal nor the christian ideal is true as a fact, but they may serve as a basis of education, and may exercise an ennobling influence. an ideal is none the worse because 'some one has made the discovery' that no such ideal was ever realized. (cp. v. d.) and in a few exceptional individuals who are raised above the ordinary level of humanity, the ideal of happiness may be realized in death and misery. this may be the state which the reason deliberately approves, and which the utilitarian as well as every other moralist may be bound in certain cases to prefer. nor again, ( ) must we forget that plato, though he agrees generally with the view implied in the argument of the two brothers, is not expressing his own final conclusion, but rather {xxx} seeking to dramatize one of the aspects of ethical truth. he is developing his idea gradually in a series of positions or situations. he is exhibiting socrates for the first time undergoing the socratic interrogation. lastly, ( ) the word 'happiness' involves some degree of confusion because associated in the language of modern philosophy with conscious pleasure or satisfaction, which was not equally present to his mind. glaucon has been drawing a picture of the misery of the just and the happiness of the unjust, to which the misery of the tyrant in book ix is the answer and parallel. and still the unjust must appear just; that is 'the homage which vice pays to virtue.' but now adeimantus, taking up the hint which had been already given by glaucon (ii. c), proceeds to show that in the opinion of mankind justice is regarded only for the sake of rewards and reputation, and points out the advantage which is given to such arguments as those of thrasymachus and glaucon by the conventional morality of mankind. he seems to feel the difficulty of 'justifying the ways of god to man.' both the brothers touch upon the question, whether the morality of actions is determined by their consequences (cp. iv. foll.); and both of them go beyond the position of socrates, that justice belongs to the class of goods not desirable for themselves only, but desirable for themselves and for their results, to which he recalls them. in their attempt to view justice as an internal principle, and in their condemnation of the poets, they anticipate him. the common life of greece is not enough for them; they must penetrate deeper into the nature of things. it has been objected that justice is honesty in the sense of glaucon and adeimantus, but is taken by socrates to mean all virtue. may we not more truly say that the old-fashioned notion of justice is enlarged by socrates, and becomes equivalent to universal order or well-being, first in the state, and secondly in the individual? he has found a new answer to his old question (protag. ), 'whether the virtues are one or many,' viz. that one is the ordering principle of the three others. in seeking to establish the purely internal nature of justice, he is met by the fact that man is a social being, and he tries to harmonise the two opposite theses as well as he can. there is no more inconsistency in this than was inevitable in his age and country; {xxxi} there is no use in turning upon him the cross lights of modern philosophy, which, from some other point of view, would appear equally inconsistent. plato does not give the final solution of philosophical questions for us; nor can he be judged of by our standard. the remainder of the republic is developed out of the question of the sons of ariston. three points are deserving of remark in what immediately follows:--first, that the answer of socrates is altogether indirect. he does not say that happiness consists in the contemplation of the idea of justice, and still less will he be tempted to affirm the stoical paradox that the just man can be happy on the rack. but first he dwells on the difficulty of the problem and insists on restoring man to his natural condition, before he will answer the question at all. he too will frame an ideal, but his ideal comprehends not only abstract justice, but the whole relations of man. under the fanciful illustration of the large letters he implies that he will only look for justice in society, and that from the state he will proceed to the individual. his answer in substance amounts to this,--that under favourable conditions, i.e. in the perfect state, justice and happiness will coincide, and that when justice has been once found, happiness may be left to take care of itself. that he falls into some degree of inconsistency, when in the tenth book ( a) he claims to have got rid of the rewards and honours of justice, may be admitted; for he has left those which exist in the perfect state. and the philosopher 'who retires under the shelter of a wall' (vi. ) can hardly have been esteemed happy by him, at least not in this world. still he maintains the true attitude of moral action. let a man do his duty first, without asking whether he will be happy or not, and happiness will be the inseparable accident which attends him. 'seek ye first the kingdom of god and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.' secondly, it may be remarked that plato preserves the genuine character of greek thought in beginning with the state and in going on to the individual. first ethics, then politics--this is the order of ideas to us; the reverse is the order of history. only after many struggles of thought does the individual assert his right as a moral being. in early ages he is not _one_, but one of many, the citizen of a state which is prior to him; and he {xxxii} has no notion of good or evil apart from the law of his country or the creed of his church. and to this type he is constantly tending to revert, whenever the influence of custom, or of party spirit, or the recollection of the past becomes too strong for him. thirdly, we may observe the confusion or identification of the individual and the state, of ethics and politics, which pervades early greek speculation, and even in modern times retains a certain degree of influence. the subtle difference between the collective and individual action of mankind seems to have escaped early thinkers, and we too are sometimes in danger of forgetting the conditions of united human action, whenever we either elevate politics into ethics, or lower ethics to the standard of politics. the good man and the good citizen only coincide in the perfect state; and this perfection cannot be attained by legislation acting upon them from without, but, if at all, by education fashioning them from within. [sidenote: _republic ii._ analysis.] ... socrates praises the sons of ariston, * * 'inspired offspring of the renowned hero,' as the elegiac poet terms them; but he does not understand how they can argue so eloquently on behalf of injustice while their character shows that they are uninfluenced by their own arguments. he knows not how to answer them, although he is afraid of deserting justice in the hour of need. he therefore makes a condition, that having weak eyes he shall be allowed to read the large letters first and then go on to the smaller, that is, he must look for justice in the state first, and will then proceed to the individual. * * accordingly he begins to construct the state. society arises out of the wants of man. his first want is food; his second a house; his third a coat. the sense of these needs and the possibility of satisfying them by exchange, draw individuals together on the same spot; and this is the beginning of a state, which we take the liberty to invent, although necessity is the real inventor. there must be first a husbandman, secondly a builder, thirdly a weaver, to which may be added a cobbler. four or five citizens at least are required to make a city. * * now men have different natures, and one man will do one thing better than many; and business waits for no man. hence there must be a division of labour into different employments; into wholesale and retail trade; into workers, and makers of workmen's {xxxiii} tools; into shepherds and husbandmen. a city which includes all this will have far exceeded the limit of four or five, and yet not be very large. * * but then again imports will be required, and imports necessitate exports, and this implies variety of produce in order to attract the taste of purchasers; also merchants and ships. in the city too we must have a market and money and retail trades; otherwise buyers and sellers will never meet, and the valuable time of the producers will be wasted in vain efforts at exchange. if we add hired servants the state will be complete. and we may guess that * * somewhere in the intercourse of the citizens with one another justice and injustice will appear. here follows a rustic picture of their way of life. they spend their days in houses which they have built for themselves; they make their own clothes and produce their own corn and wine. their principal food is meal and flour, and they drink in moderation. they live on the best of terms with each other, and take care not to have too many children. 'but,' said glaucon, interposing, 'are they not to have a relish?' certainly; they will have salt and olives and cheese, vegetables and fruits, and chestnuts to roast at the fire. ''tis a city of pigs, socrates.' why, i replied, what do you want more? 'only the comforts of life,--sofas and tables, also sauces and sweets.' i see; you want not only a state, but a luxurious state; and possibly in the more complex frame we may sooner find justice and injustice. then * * the fine arts must go to work--every conceivable instrument and ornament of luxury will be wanted. there will be dancers, painters, sculptors, musicians, cooks, barbers, tire-women, nurses, artists; swineherds and neatherds too for the animals, and physicians to cure the disorders of which luxury is the source. to feed all these superfluous mouths we shall need a part of our neighbour's land, and they will want a part of ours. and this is the origin of war, which may be traced to the same causes as other political evils. * * our city will now require the slight addition of a camp, and the citizen will be converted into a soldier. but then again our old doctrine of the division of labour must not be forgotten. the art of war cannot be learned in a day, and there must be a natural aptitude for military duties. there will be some warlike natures * * who have this aptitude--dogs keen of scent, swift of foot to pursue, and strong of limb to fight. and {xxxiv} as spirit is the foundation of courage, such natures, whether of men or animals, will be full of spirit. but these spirited natures are apt to bite and devour one another; the union of gentleness to friends and fierceness against enemies appears to be an impossibility, and the guardian of a state requires both qualities. who then can be a guardian? the image of the dog suggests an answer. * * for dogs are gentle to friends and fierce to strangers. your dog is a philosopher who judges by the rule of knowing or not knowing; and philosophy, whether in man or beast, is the parent of gentleness. the human watchdogs must be philosophers or lovers of learning which will make them gentle. and how are they to be learned without education? but what shall their education be? is any better than the old-fashioned sort which is comprehended under the name of music and gymnastic? * * music includes literature, and literature is of two kinds, true and false. 'what do you mean?' he said. i mean that children hear stories before they learn gymnastics, and that the stories are either untrue, or have at most one or two grains of truth in a bushel of falsehood. now early life is very impressible, and children ought not to learn what they will have to unlearn when they grow up; we must therefore have a censorship of nursery tales, banishing some and keeping others. some of them are very improper, as we may see in the great instances of homer and hesiod, who not only tell lies but bad lies; stories about uranus and saturn, * * which are immoral as well as false, and which should never be spoken of to young persons, or indeed at all; or, if at all, then in a mystery, after the sacrifice, not of an eleusinian pig, but of some unprocurable animal. shall our youth be encouraged to beat their fathers by the example of zeus, or our citizens be incited to quarrel by hearing or seeing representations of strife among the gods? shall they listen to the narrative of hephaestus binding his mother, and of zeus sending him flying for helping her when she was beaten? such tales may possibly have a mystical interpretation, but the young are incapable of understanding allegory. * * if any one asks what tales are to be allowed, we will answer that we are legislators and not book-makers; we only lay down the principles according to which books are to be written; to write them is the duty of others. {xxxv} and our first principle is, that god must be represented as he is; not as the author of all things, but of good only. we will not suffer the poets to say that he is the steward of good and evil, or that he has two casks full of destinies;--or that athene and zeus incited pandarus to break the treaty; or that * * god caused the sufferings of niobe, or of pelops, or the trojan war; or that he makes men sin when he wishes to destroy them. either these were not the actions of the gods, or god was just, and men were the better for being punished. but that the deed was evil, and god the author, is a wicked, suicidal fiction which we will allow no one, old or young, to utter. this is our first and great principle--god is the author of good only. and the second principle is like unto it:--with god is no variableness or change of form. reason teaches us this; for if we suppose a change in god, he must be changed either by another or by himself. by another?--but the best works of nature and art * * and the noblest qualities of mind are least liable to be changed by any external force. by himself?--but he cannot change for the better; he will hardly change for the worse. he remains for ever fairest and best in his own image. therefore we refuse to listen to the poets who tell us of here begging in the likeness of a priestess or of other deities who prowl about at night in strange disguises; all that blasphemous nonsense with which mothers fool the manhood out of their children must be suppressed. * * but some one will say that god, who is himself unchangeable, may take a form in relation to us. why should he? for gods as well as men hate the lie in the soul, or principle of falsehood; and as for any other form of lying which is used for a purpose and is regarded as innocent in certain exceptional cases--what need have the gods of this? for they are not ignorant of antiquity like the poets, nor are they afraid of their enemies, nor is any madman a friend of theirs. * * god then is true, he is absolutely true; he changes not, he deceives not, by day or night, by word or sign. this is our second great principle--god is true. away with the lying dream of agamemnon in homer, and the accusation of thetis against apollo in aeschylus.... [sidenote: _republic ii._ introduction.] in order to give clearness to his conception of the state, plato proceeds to trace the first principles of mutual need and of {xxxvi} division of labour in an imaginary community of four or five citizens. gradually this community increases; the division of labour extends to countries; imports necessitate exports; a medium of exchange is required, and retailers sit in the market-place to save the time of the producers. these are the steps by which plato constructs the first or primitive state, introducing the elements of political economy by the way. as he is going to frame a second or civilized state, the simple naturally comes before the complex. he indulges, like rousseau, in a picture of primitive life--an idea which has indeed often had a powerful influence on the imagination of mankind, but he does not seriously mean to say that one is better than the other (cp. politicus, p. ); nor can any inference be drawn from the description of the first state taken apart from the second, such as aristotle appears to draw in the politics, iv. , (cp. again politicus, ). we should not interpret a platonic dialogue any more than a poem or a parable in too literal or matter-of-fact a style. on the other hand, when we compare the lively fancy of plato with the dried-up abstractions of modern treatises on philosophy, we are compelled to say with protagoras, that the 'mythus is more interesting' (protag. d). several interesting remarks which in modern times would have a place in a treatise on political economy are scattered up and down the writings of plato: cp. especially laws, v. , population; viii. , free trade; xi. - , adulteration; - , wills and bequests; , begging; eryxias, (though not plato's), value and demand; republic, ii. ff., division of labour. the last subject, and also the origin of retail trade, is treated with admirable lucidity in the second book of the republic. but plato never combined his economic ideas into a system, and never seems to have recognized that trade is one of the great motive powers of the state and of the world. he would make retail traders only of the inferior sort of citizens (rep. ii. ; cp. laws, viii. ), though he remarks, quaintly enough (laws, ix. d), that 'if only the best men and the best women everywhere were compelled to keep taverns for a time or to carry on retail trade, etc., then we should knew how pleasant and agreeable all these things are.' the disappointment of glaucon at the 'city of pigs,' the ludicrous description of the ministers of luxury in the more refined {xxxvii} state, and the afterthought of the necessity of doctors, the illustration of the nature of the guardian taken from the dog, the desirableness of offering some almost unprocurable victim when impure mysteries are to be celebrated, the behaviour of zeus to his father and of hephaestus to his mother, are touches of humour which have also a serious meaning. in speaking of education plato rather startles us by affirming that a child must be trained in falsehood first and in truth afterwards. yet this is not very different from saying that children must be taught through the medium of imagination as well as reason; that their minds can only develope gradually, and that there is much which they must learn without understanding (cp. iii. a). this is also the substance of plato's view, though he must be acknowledged to have drawn the line somewhat differently from modern ethical writers, respecting truth and falsehood. to us, economies or accommodations would not be allowable unless they were required by the human faculties or necessary for the communication of knowledge to the simple and ignorant. we should insist that the word was inseparable from the intention, and that we must not be 'falsely true,' i.e. speak or act falsely in support of what was right or true. but plato would limit the use of fictions only by requiring that they should have a good moral effect, and that such a dangerous weapon as falsehood should be employed by the rulers alone and for great objects. a greek in the age of plato attached no importance to the question whether his religion was an historical fact. he was just beginning to be conscious that the past had a history; but he could see nothing beyond homer and hesiod. whether their narratives were true or false did not seriously affect the political or social life of hellas. men only began to suspect that they were fictions when they recognised them to be immoral. and so in all religions: the consideration of their morality comes first, afterwards the truth of the documents in which they are recorded, or of the events natural or supernatural which are told of them. but in modern times, and in protestant countries perhaps more than in catholic, we have been too much inclined to identify the historical with the moral; and some have refused to believe in religion at all, unless a superhuman accuracy was discernible in every part of the record. the facts of an ancient {xxxviii} or religious history are amongst the most important of all facts; but they are frequently uncertain, and we only learn the true lesson which is to be gathered from them when we place ourselves above them. these reflections tend to show that the difference between plato and ourselves, though not unimportant, is not so great as might at first sight appear. for we should agree with him in placing the moral before the historical truth of religion; and, generally, in disregarding those errors or misstatements of fact which necessarily occur in the early stages of all religions. we know also that changes in the traditions of a country cannot be made in a day; and are therefore tolerant of many things which science and criticism would condemn. we note in passing that the allegorical interpretation of mythology, said to have been first introduced as early as the sixth century before christ by theagenes of rhegium, was well established in the age of plato, and here, as in the phaedrus ( - ), though for a different reason, was rejected by him. that anachronisms whether of religion or law, when men have reached another stage of civilization, should be got rid of by fictions is in accordance with universal experience. great is the art of interpretation; and by a natural process, which when once discovered was always going on, what could not be altered was explained away. and so without any palpable inconsistency there existed side by side two forms of religion, the tradition inherited or invented by the poets and the customary worship of the temple; on the other hand, there was the religion of the philosopher, who was dwelling in the heaven of ideas, but did not therefore refuse to offer a cock to Æsculapius, or to be seen saying his prayers at the rising of the sun. at length the antagonism between the popular and philosophical religion, never so great among the greeks as in our own age, disappeared, and was only felt like the difference between the religion of the educated and uneducated among ourselves. the zeus of homer and hesiod easily passed into the 'royal mind' of plato (philebus, ); the giant heracles became the knight-errant and benefactor of mankind. these and still more wonderful transformations were readily effected by the ingenuity of stoics and neo-platonists in the two or three centuries before and after christ. the greek and roman religions were gradually permeated by the spirit of philosophy; having lost their {xxxix} ancient meaning, they were resolved into poetry and morality; and probably were never purer than at the time of their decay, when their influence over the world was waning. a singular conception which occurs towards the end of the book is the lie in the soul; this is connected with the platonic and socratic doctrine that involuntary ignorance is worse than voluntary. the lie in the soul is a true lie, the corruption of the highest truth, the deception of the highest part of the soul, from which he who is deceived has no power of delivering himself. for example, to represent god as false or immoral, or, according to plato, as deluding men with appearances or as the author of evil; or again, to affirm with protagoras that 'knowledge is sensation,' or that 'being is becoming,' or with thrasymachus 'that might is right,' would have been regarded by plato as a lie of this hateful sort. the greatest unconsciousness of the greatest untruth, e.g. if, in the language of the gospels (john iv. ), 'he who was blind' were to say 'i see,' is another aspect of the state of mind which plato is describing. the lie in the soul may be further compared with the sin against the holy ghost (luke xii. ), allowing for the difference between greek and christian modes of speaking. to this is opposed the lie in words, which is only such a deception as may occur in a play or poem, or allegory or figure of speech, or in any sort of accommodation,--which though useless to the gods may be useful to men in certain cases. socrates is here answering the question which he had himself raised (i. c) about the propriety of deceiving a madman; and he is also contrasting the nature of god and man. for god is truth, but mankind can only be true by appearing sometimes to be partial, or false. reserving for another place the greater questions of religion or education, we may note further, ( ) the approval of the old traditional education of greece; ( ) the preparation which plato is making for the attack on homer and the poets; ( ) the preparation which he is also making for the use of economies in the state; ( ) the contemptuous and at the same time euphemistic manner in which here as below (iii. ) he alludes to the _chronique scandaleuse_ of the gods. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic iii._ analysis.] book iii. * * there is another motive in purifying religion, which is to banish fear; for no man can be courageous who is {xl} afraid of death, or who believes the tales which are repeated by the poets concerning the world below. they must be gently requested not to abuse hell; they may be reminded that their stories are both untrue and discouraging. nor must they be angry if we expunge obnoxious passages, such as the depressing words of achilles--'i would rather be a serving-man than rule over all the dead;' and the verses which tell of the squalid mansions, the senseless shadows, the flitting soul mourning over lost strength and youth, * * the soul with a gibber going beneath the earth like smoke, or the souls of the suitors which flutter about like bats. the terrors and horrors of cocytus and styx, ghosts and sapless shades, and the rest of their tartarean nomenclature, must vanish. such tales may have their use; but they are not the proper food for soldiers. as little can we admit the sorrows and sympathies of the homeric heroes:--achilles, the son of thetis, in tears, throwing ashes on his head, or pacing up and down the sea-shore in distraction; or priam, the cousin of the gods, crying aloud, rolling in the mire. a good man is not prostrated at the loss of children or fortune. neither is death terrible to him; and therefore lamentations over the dead should not be practised by men of note; * * they should be the concern of inferior persons only, whether women or men. still worse is the attribution of such weakness to the gods; as when the goddesses say, 'alas! my travail!' and worst of all, when the king of heaven himself laments his inability to save hector, or sorrows over the impending doom of his dear sarpedon. such a character of god, if not ridiculed by our young men, is likely to be imitated by them. nor should our citizens be given to excess of laughter--'such violent delights' are followed by a violent re-action. the description in the iliad of the gods shaking their sides at the clumsiness of hephaestus will not be admitted by us. 'certainly not.' truth should have a high place among the virtues, for falsehood, as we were saying, is useless to the gods, and only useful to men as a medicine. but this employment of falsehood must remain a privilege of state; the common man must not in return tell a lie to the ruler; any more than the patient would tell a lie to his physician, or the sailor to his captain. in the next place our youth must be temperate, and temperance consists in self-control and obedience to authority. that is a {xli} lesson which homer teaches in some places: 'the achaeans marched on breathing prowess, in silent awe of their leaders;'--but a very different one in other places: 'o heavy with wine, who hast the eyes of a dog, but the heart of a stag.' * * language of the latter kind will not impress self-control on the minds of youth. the same may be said about his praises of eating and drinking and his dread of starvation; also about the verses in which he tells of the rapturous loves of zeus and here, or of how hephaestus once detained ares and aphrodite in a net on a similar occasion. there is a nobler strain heard in the words:--'endure, my soul, thou hast endured worse.' nor must we allow our citizens to receive bribes, or to say, 'gifts persuade the gods, gifts reverend kings;' or to applaud the ignoble advice of phoenix to achilles that he should get money out of the greeks before he assisted them; or the meanness of achilles himself in taking gifts from agamemnon; * * or his requiring a ransom for the body of hector; or his cursing of apollo; or his insolence to the river-god scamander; or his dedication to the dead patroclus of his own hair which had been already dedicated to the other river-god spercheius; or his cruelty in dragging the body of hector round the walls, and slaying the captives at the pyre: such a combination of meanness and cruelty in cheiron's pupil is inconceivable. the amatory exploits of peirithous and theseus are equally unworthy. either these so-called sons of gods were not the sons of gods, or they were not such as the poets imagine them, any more than the gods themselves are the authors of evil. the youth who believes that such things are done by * * those who have the blood of heaven flowing in their veins will be too ready to imitate their example. enough of gods and heroes;--what shall we say about men? what the poets and story-tellers say--that the wicked prosper and the righteous are afflicted, or that justice is another's gain? such misrepresentations cannot be allowed by us. but in this we are anticipating the definition of justice, and had therefore better defer the enquiry. the subjects of poetry have been sufficiently treated; next follows style. now all poetry is a narrative of events past, present, or to come; and narrative is of three kinds, the simple, the imitative, and a composition of the two. an instance will {xlii} make my meaning clear. * * the first scene in homer is of the last or mixed kind, being partly description and partly dialogue. but if you throw the dialogue into the 'oratio obliqua,' the passage will run thus: * * the priest came and prayed apollo that the achaeans might take troy and have a safe return if agamemnon would only give him back his daughter; and the other greeks assented, but agamemnon was wroth, and so on--the whole then becomes descriptive, and the poet is the only speaker left; or, if you omit the narrative, the whole becomes dialogue. these are the three styles--which of them is to be admitted into our state? 'do you ask whether tragedy and comedy are to be admitted?' yes, but also something more--is it not doubtful whether our guardians are to be imitators at all? or rather, has not the question been already answered, for we have decided that one man cannot in his life play many parts, any more than * * he can act both tragedy and comedy, or be rhapsodist and actor at once? human nature is coined into very small pieces, and as our guardians have their own business already, which is the care of freedom, they will have enough to do without imitating. if they imitate they should imitate, not any meanness or baseness, but the good only; for the mask which the actor wears is apt to become his face. we cannot allow men to play the parts of women, quarrelling, weeping, scolding, or boasting against the gods,--least of all when making love or in labour. they must not represent slaves, or bullies, or * * cowards, drunkards, or madmen, or blacksmiths, or neighing horses, or bellowing bulls, or sounding rivers, or a raging sea. a good or wise man will be willing to perform good and wise actions, but he will be ashamed to play an inferior part which he has never practised; and he will prefer to employ the descriptive style with as little imitation as possible. * * the man who has no self-respect, on the contrary, will imitate anybody and anything; sounds of nature and cries of animals alike; his whole performance will be imitation of gesture and voice. now in the descriptive style there are few changes, but in the dramatic there are a great many. poets and musicians use either, or a compound of both, and this compound is very attractive to youth and their teachers as well as to the vulgar. but our state in which one man plays one part only is not adapted for complexity. * * and when one of these polyphonous pantomimic gentlemen offers to exhibit {xliii} himself and his poetry we will show him every observance of respect, but at the same time tell him that there is no room for his kind in our state; we prefer the rough, honest poet, and will not depart from our original models (ii. foll.; cp. laws, vii. ). next as to the music. a song or ode has three parts,--the subject, the harmony, and the rhythm; of which the two last are dependent upon the first. as we banished strains of lamentation, so we may now banish the mixed lydian harmonies, which are the harmonies of lamentation; and as our citizens are to be temperate, we may also banish convivial harmonies, such as the ionian and pure lydian. * * two remain--the dorian and phrygian, the first for war, the second for peace; the one expressive of courage, the other of obedience or instruction or religious feeling. and as we reject varieties of harmony, we shall also reject the many-stringed, variously-shaped instruments which give utterance to them, and in particular the flute, which is more complex than any of them. the lyre and the harp may be permitted in the town, and the pan's-pipe in the fields. thus we have made a purgation of music, and will now make a purgation of metres. * * these should be like the harmonies, simple and suitable to the occasion. there are four notes of the tetrachord, and there are three ratios of metre, / , / , / , which have all their characteristics, and the feet have different characteristics as well as the rhythms. but about this you and i must ask damon, the great musician, who speaks, if i remember rightly, of a martial measure as well as of dactylic, trochaic, and iambic rhythms, which he arranges so as to equalize the syllables with one another, assigning to each the proper quantity. we only venture to affirm the general principle that the style is to conform to the subject and the metre to the style; and that the simplicity and harmony of the soul should be reflected in them all. this principle of simplicity has to be learnt by every one in the days of his youth, * * and may be gathered anywhere, from the creative and constructive arts, as well as from the forms of plants and animals. other artists as well as poets should be warned against meanness or unseemliness. sculpture and painting equally with music must conform to the law of simplicity. he who violates it cannot be allowed to work in our city, and to corrupt the taste of our citizens. for our guardians must grow up, not amid images of {xliv} deformity which will gradually poison and corrupt their souls, but in a land of health and beauty where they will drink in from every object sweet and harmonious influences. and of all these influences the greatest is the education given by music, which finds a way into the innermost soul and * * imparts to it the sense of beauty and of deformity. at first the effect is unconscious; but when reason arrives, then he who has been thus trained welcomes her as the friend whom he always knew. as in learning to read, first we acquire the elements or letters separately, and afterwards their combinations, and cannot recognize reflections of them until we know the letters themselves;--in like manner we must first attain the elements or essential forms of the virtues, and then trace their combinations in life and experience. there is a music of the soul which answers to the harmony of the world; and the fairest object of a musical soul is the fair mind in the fair body. some defect in the latter may be excused, but not in the former. * * true love is the daughter of temperance, and temperance is utterly opposed to the madness of bodily pleasure. enough has been said of music, which makes a fair ending with love. next we pass on to gymnastics; about which i would remark, that the soul is related to the body as a cause to an effect, and therefore if we educate the mind we may leave the education of the body in her charge, and need only give a general outline of the course to be pursued. in the first place the guardians must abstain from strong drink, for they should be the last persons to lose their wits. * * whether the habits of the palaestra are suitable to them is more doubtful, for the ordinary gymnastic is a sleepy sort of thing, and if left off suddenly is apt to endanger health. but our warrior athletes must be wide-awake dogs, and must also be inured to all changes of food and climate. hence they will require a simpler kind of gymnastic, akin to their simple music; and for their diet a rule may be found in homer, who feeds his heroes on roast meat only, and gives them no fish although they are living at the sea-side, nor boiled meats which involve an apparatus of pots and pans; and, if i am not mistaken, he nowhere mentions sweet sauces. sicilian cookery and attic confections and corinthian courtezans, which are to gymnastic what lydian and ionian melodies are to music, must be forbidden. * * where gluttony and intemperance prevail the town quickly fills {xlv} with doctors and pleaders; and law and medicine give themselves airs as soon as the freemen of a state take an interest in them. but what can show a more disgraceful state of education than to have to go abroad for justice because you have none of your own at home? and yet there _is_ a worse stage of the same disease--when men have learned to take a pleasure and pride in the twists and turns of the law; not considering how much better it would be for them so to order their lives as to have no need of a nodding justice. and there is a like disgrace in employing a physician, not for the cure of wounds or epidemic disorders, but because a man has by laziness and luxury contracted diseases which were unknown in the days of asclepius. how simple is the homeric practice of medicine. eurypylus after he has been wounded * * drinks a posset of pramnian wine, which is of a heating nature; and yet the sons of asclepius blame neither the damsel who gives him the drink, nor patroclus who is attending on him. the truth is that this modern system of nursing diseases was introduced by herodicus the trainer; who, being of a sickly constitution, by a compound of training and medicine tortured first himself and then a good many other people, and lived a great deal longer than he had any right. but asclepius would not practise this art, because he knew that the citizens of a well-ordered state have no leisure to be ill, and therefore he adopted the 'kill or cure' method, which artisans and labourers employ. 'they must be at their business,' they say, 'and have no time for coddling: if they recover, well; if they don't, there is an end of them.' * * whereas the rich man is supposed to be a gentleman who can afford to be ill. do you know a maxim of phocylides--that 'when a man begins to be rich' (or, perhaps, a little sooner) 'he should practise virtue'? but how can excessive care of health be inconsistent with an ordinary occupation, and yet consistent with that practice of virtue which phocylides inculcates? when a student imagines that philosophy gives him a headache, he never does anything; he is always unwell. this was the reason why asclepius and his sons practised no such art. they were acting in the interest of the public, and did not wish to preserve useless lives, or raise up a puny offspring to wretched sires. * * honest diseases they honestly cured; and if a man was wounded, they applied the proper remedies, and then let him eat and drink what he liked. but {xlvi} they declined to treat intemperate and worthless subjects, even though they might have made large fortunes out of them. as to the story of pindar, that asclepius was slain by a thunderbolt for restoring a rich man to life, that is a lie--following our old rule we must say either that he did not take bribes, or that he was not the son of a god. glaucon then asks socrates whether the best physicians and the best judges will not be those who have had severally the greatest experience of diseases and of crimes. socrates draws a distinction between the two professions. the physician should have had experience of disease in his own body, for he cures with his mind and not with his body. * * but the judge controls mind by mind; and therefore his mind should not be corrupted by crime. where then is he to gain experience? how is he to be wise and also innocent? when young a good man is apt to be deceived by evil-doers, because he has no pattern of evil in himself; and therefore the judge should be of a certain age; his youth should have been innocent, and he should have acquired insight into evil not by the practice of it, but by the observation of it in others. this is the ideal of a judge; the criminal turned detective is wonderfully suspicious, but when in company with good men who have experience, he is at fault, for he foolishly imagines that every one is as bad as himself. vice may be known of virtue, but cannot know virtue. this is the sort of medicine and this the sort of law which will prevail in our state; * * they will be healing arts to better natures; but the evil body will be left to die by the one, and the evil soul will be put to death by the other. and the need of either will be greatly diminished by good music which will give harmony to the soul, and good gymnastic which will give health to the body. not that this division of music and gymnastic really corresponds to soul and body; for they are both equally concerned with the soul, which is tamed by the one and aroused and sustained by the other. the two together supply our guardians with their twofold nature. the passionate disposition when it has too much gymnastic is hardened and brutalized, the gentle or philosophic temper which has too much music becomes enervated. * * while a man is allowing music to pour like water through the funnel of his ears, the edge of his soul gradually wears away, and the passionate or spirited element is melted out of him. too little {xlvii} spirit is easily exhausted; too much quickly passes into nervous irritability. so, again, the athlete by feeding and training has his courage doubled, but he soon grows stupid; he is like a wild beast, ready to do everything by blows and nothing by counsel or policy. there are two principles in man, reason and passion, and to these, * * not to the soul and body, the two arts of music and gymnastic correspond. he who mingles them in harmonious concord is the true musician,--he shall be the presiding genius of our state. the next question is, who are to be our rulers? first, the elder must rule the younger; and the best of the elders will be the best guardians. now they will be the best who love their subjects most, and think that they have a common interest with them in the welfare of the state. these we must select; but they must be watched at every epoch of life to see whether they have retained the same opinions and held out against force and enchantment. * * for time and persuasion and the love of pleasure may enchant a man into a change of purpose, and the force of grief and pain may compel him. and therefore our guardians must be men who have been tried by many tests, like gold in the refiner's fire, and have been passed first through danger, then through pleasure, and at every age have come out of such trials victorious and without stain, in full command of themselves and their principles; having all their faculties in harmonious exercise for their country's good. these shall receive the highest honours both in life and death. * * (it would perhaps be better to confine the term 'guardians' to this select class: the younger men may be called 'auxiliaries.') and now for one magnificent lie, in the belief of which, oh that we could train our rulers!--at any rate let us make the attempt with the rest of the world. what i am going to tell is only another version of the legend of cadmus; but our unbelieving generation will be slow to accept such a story. the tale must be imparted, first to the rulers, then to the soldiers, lastly to the people. we will inform them that their youth was a dream, and that during the time when they seemed to be undergoing their education they were really being fashioned in the earth, who sent them up when they were ready; and that they must protect and cherish her whose children they are, and regard {xlviii} each other as brothers and sisters. 'i do not wonder at your being ashamed to propound such a fiction.' there is more behind. * * these brothers and sisters have different natures, and some of them god framed to rule, whom he fashioned of gold; others he made of silver, to be auxiliaries; others again to be husbandmen and craftsmen, and these were formed by him of brass and iron. but as they are all sprung from a common stock, a golden parent may have a silver son, or a silver parent a golden son, and then there must be a change of rank; the son of the rich must descend, and the child of the artisan rise, in the social scale; for an oracle says 'that the state will come to an end if governed by a man of brass or iron.' will our citizens ever believe all this? 'not in the present generation, but in the next, perhaps, yes.' now let the earthborn men go forth under the command of their rulers, and look about and pitch their camp in a high place, which will be safe against enemies from without, and likewise against insurrections from within. there let them sacrifice and set up their tents; * * for soldiers they are to be and not shopkeepers, the watchdogs and guardians of the sheep; and luxury and avarice will turn them into wolves and tyrants. their habits and their dwellings should correspond to their education. they should have no property; their pay should only meet their expenses; and they should have common meals. gold and silver we will tell them that they have from god, and this divine gift in their souls they must not * * alloy with that earthly dross which passes under the name of gold. they only of the citizens may not touch it, or be under the same roof with it, or drink from it; it is the accursed thing. should they ever acquire houses or lands or money of their own, they will become householders and tradesmen instead of guardians, enemies and tyrants instead of helpers, and the hour of ruin, both to themselves and the rest of the state, will be at hand. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic iii._ introduction.] the religious and ethical aspect of plato's education will hereafter be considered under a separate head. some lesser points may be more conveniently noticed in this place. . the constant appeal to the authority of homer, whom, with grave irony, plato, after the manner of his age, summons as a {xlix} witness about ethics and psychology, as well as about diet and medicine; attempting to distinguish the better lesson from the worse ( ), sometimes altering the text from design ( , and, perhaps, ); more than once quoting or alluding to homer inaccurately ( , ), after the manner of the early logographers turning the iliad into prose ( ), and delighting to draw far-fetched inferences from his words, or to make ludicrous applications of them. he does not, like heracleitus, get into a rage with homer and archilochus (heracl. frag. , ed. bywater), but uses their words and expressions as vehicles of a higher truth; not on a system like theagenes of rhegium or metrodorus, or in later times the stoics, but as fancy may dictate. and the conclusions drawn from them are sound, although the premises are fictitious. these fanciful appeals to homer add a charm to plato's style, and at the same time they have the effect of a satire on the follies of homeric interpretation. to us (and probably to himself), although they take the form of arguments, they are really figures of speech. they may be compared with modern citations from scripture, which have often a great rhetorical power even when the original meaning of the words is entirely lost sight of. the real, like the platonic socrates, as we gather from the memorabilia of xenophon, was fond of making similar adaptations (i. , ; ii. , ). great in all ages and countries, in religion as well as in law and literature, has been the art of interpretation. . 'the style is to conform to the subject and the metre to the style.' notwithstanding the fascination which the word 'classical' exercises over us, we can hardly maintain that this rule is observed in all the greek poetry which has come down to us. we cannot deny that the thought often exceeds the power of lucid expression in Æschylus and pindar; or that rhetoric gets the better of the thought in the sophist-poet euripides. only perhaps in sophocles is there a perfect harmony of the two; in him alone do we find a grace of language like the beauty of a greek statue, in which there is nothing to add or to take away; at least this is true of single plays or of large portions of them. the connection in the tragic choruses and in the greek lyric poets is not unfrequently a tangled thread which in an age before logic the poet was unable to draw out. many thoughts and feelings mingled in his mind, and he had no power of disengaging or {l} arranging them. for there is a subtle influence of logic which requires to be transferred from prose to poetry, just as the music and perfection of language are infused by poetry into prose. in all ages the poet has been a bad judge of his own meaning (apol. b); for he does not see that the word which is full of associations to his own mind is difficult and unmeaning to that of another; or that the sequence which is clear to himself is puzzling to others. there are many passages in some of our greatest modern poets which are far too obscure; in which there is no proportion between style and subject, in which any half-expressed figure, any harsh construction, any distorted collocation of words, any remote sequence of ideas is admitted; and there is no voice 'coming sweetly from nature,' or music adding the expression of feeling to thought. as if there could be poetry without beauty, or beauty without ease and clearness. the obscurities of early greek poets arose necessarily out of the state of language and logic which existed in their age. they are not examples to be followed by us; for the use of language ought in every generation to become clearer and clearer. like shakespeare, they were great in spite, not in consequence, of their imperfections of expression. but there is no reason for returning to the necessary obscurity which prevailed in the infancy of literature. the english poets of the last century were certainly not obscure; and we have no excuse for losing what they had gained, or for going back to the earlier or transitional age which preceded them. the thought of our own times has not out-stripped language; a want of plato's 'art of measuring' is the real cause of the disproportion between them. . in the third book of the republic a nearer approach is made to a theory of art than anywhere else in plato. his views may be summed up as follows:--true art is not fanciful and imitative, but simple and ideal,--the expression of the highest moral energy, whether in action or repose. to live among works of plastic art which are of this noble and simple character, or to listen to such strains, is the best of influences,--the true greek atmosphere, in which youth should be brought up. that is the way to create in them a natural good taste, which will have a feeling of truth and beauty in all things. for though the poets are to be expelled, still art is recognized as another aspect of {li} reason--like love in the symposium, extending over the same sphere, but confined to the preliminary education, and acting through the power of habit (vii. a); and this conception of art is not limited to strains of music or the forms of plastic art, but pervades all nature and has a wide kindred in the world. the republic of plato, like the athens of pericles, has an artistic as well as a political side. there is hardly any mention in plato of the creative arts; only in two or three passages does he even allude to them (cp. rep. iv. ; soph. a). he is not lost in rapture at the great works of phidias, the parthenon, the propylea, the statues of zeus or athene. he would probably have regarded any abstract truth of number or figure ( e) as higher than the greatest of them. yet it is hard to suppose that some influence, such as he hopes to inspire in youth, did not pass into his own mind from the works of art which he saw around him. we are living upon the fragments of them, and find in a few broken stones the standard of truth and beauty. but in plato this feeling has no expression; he nowhere says that beauty is the object of art; he seems to deny that wisdom can take an external form (phaedrus, e); he does not distinguish the fine from the mechanical arts. whether or no, like some writers, he felt more than he expressed, it is at any rate remarkable that the greatest perfection of the fine arts should coincide with an almost entire silence about them. in one very striking passage he tells us that a work of art, like the state, is a whole; and this conception of a whole and the love of the newly-born mathematical sciences may be regarded, if not as the inspiring, at any rate as the regulating principles of greek art (cp. xen. mem. iii. . ; and sophist, , ). . plato makes the true and subtle remark that the physician had better not be in robust health; and should have known what illness is in his own person. but the judge ought to have had no similar experience of evil; he is to be a good man who, having passed his youth in innocence, became acquainted late in life with the vices of others. and therefore, according to plato, a judge should not be young, just as a young man according to aristotle is not fit to be a hearer of moral philosophy. the bad, on the other hand, have a knowledge of vice, but no knowledge {lii} of virtue. it may be doubted, however, whether this train of reflection is well founded. in a remarkable passage of the laws (xii. b) it is acknowledged that the evil may form a correct estimate of the good. the union of gentleness and courage in book ii. at first seemed to be a paradox, yet was afterwards ascertained to be a truth. and plato might also have found that the intuition of evil may be consistent with the abhorrence of it (cp. infra, ix. ). there is a directness of aim in virtue which gives an insight into vice. and the knowledge of character is in some degree a natural sense independent of any special experience of good or evil. . one of the most remarkable conceptions of plato, because un-greek and also very different from anything which existed at all in his age of the world, is the transposition of ranks. in the spartan state there had been enfranchisement of helots and degradation of citizens under special circumstances. and in the ancient greek aristocracies, merit was certainly recognized as one of the elements on which government was based. the founders of states were supposed to be their benefactors, who were raised by their great actions above the ordinary level of humanity; at a later period, the services of warriors and legislators were held to entitle them and their descendants to the privileges of citizenship and to the first rank in the state. and although the existence of an ideal aristocracy is slenderly proven from the remains of early greek history, and we have a difficulty in ascribing such a character, however the idea may be defined, to any actual hellenic state--or indeed to any state which has ever existed in the world--still the rule of the best was certainly the aspiration of philosophers, who probably accommodated a good deal their views of primitive history to their own notions of good government. plato further insists on applying to the guardians of his state a series of tests by which all those who fell short of a fixed standard were either removed from the governing body, or not admitted to it; and this 'academic' discipline did to a certain extent prevail in greek states, especially in sparta. he also indicates that the system of caste, which existed in a great part of the ancient, and is by no means extinct in the modern european world, should be set aside from time to time in favour of merit. he is aware how deeply the greater part of {liii} mankind resent any interference with the order of society, and therefore he proposes his novel idea in the form of what he himself calls a 'monstrous fiction.' (compare the ceremony of preparation for the two 'great waves' in book v.) two principles are indicated by him: first, that there is a distinction of ranks dependent on circumstances prior to the individual: second, that this distinction is and ought to be broken through by personal qualities. he adapts mythology like the homeric poems to the wants of the state, making 'the phoenician tale' the vehicle of his ideas. every greek state had a myth respecting its own origin; the platonic republic may also have a tale of earthborn men. the gravity and verisimilitude with which the tale is told, and the analogy of greek tradition, are a sufficient verification of the 'monstrous falsehood.' ancient poetry had spoken of a gold and silver and brass and iron age succeeding one another, but plato supposes these differences in the natures of men to exist together in a single state. mythology supplies a figure under which the lesson may be taught (as protagoras says, 'the myth is more interesting'), and also enables plato to touch lightly on new principles without going into details. in this passage he shadows forth a general truth, but he does not tell us by what steps the transposition of ranks is to be effected. indeed throughout the republic he allows the lower ranks to fade into the distance. we do not know whether they are to carry arms, and whether in the fifth book they are or are not included in the communistic regulations respecting property and marriage. nor is there any use in arguing strictly either from a few chance words, or from the silence of plato, or in drawing inferences which were beyond his vision. aristotle, in his criticism on the position of the lower classes, does not perceive that the poetical creation is 'like the air, invulnerable,' and cannot be penetrated by the shafts of his logic (pol. , , foll.). . two paradoxes which strike the modern reader as in the highest degree fanciful and ideal, and which suggest to him many reflections, are to be found in the third book of the republic: first, the great power of music, so much beyond any influence which is experienced by us in modern times, when the art or science has been far more developed, and has found {liv} the secret of harmony, as well as of melody; secondly, the indefinite and almost absolute control which the soul is supposed to exercise over the body. in the first we suspect some degree of exaggeration, such as we may also observe among certain masters of the art, not unknown to us, at the present day. with this natural enthusiasm, which is felt by a few only, there seems to mingle in plato a sort of pythagorean reverence for numbers and numerical proportion to which aristotle is a stranger. intervals of sound and number are to him sacred things which have a law of their own, not dependent on the variations of sense. they rise above sense, and become a connecting link with the world of ideas. but it is evident that plato is describing what to him appears to be also a fact. the power of a simple and characteristic melody on the impressible mind of the greek is more than we can easily appreciate. the effect of national airs may bear some comparison with it. and, besides all this, there is a confusion between the harmony of musical notes and the harmony of soul and body, which is so potently inspired by them. the second paradox leads up to some curious and interesting questions--how far can the mind control the body? is the relation between them one of mutual antagonism or of mutual harmony? are they two or one, and is either of them the cause of the other? may we not at times drop the opposition between them, and the mode of describing them, which is so familiar to us, and yet hardly conveys any precise meaning, and try to view this composite creature, man, in a more simple manner? must we not at any rate admit that there is in human nature a higher and a lower principle, divided by no distinct line, which at times break asunder and take up arms against one another? or again, they are reconciled and move together, either unconsciously in the ordinary work of life, or consciously in the pursuit of some noble aim, to be attained not without an effort, and for which every thought and nerve are strained. and then the body becomes the good friend or ally, or servant or instrument of the mind. and the mind has often a wonderful and almost superhuman power of banishing disease and weakness and calling out a hidden strength. reason and the desires, the intellect and the senses are brought into harmony and obedience so as to form a {lv} single human being. they are ever parting, ever meeting; and the identity or diversity of their tendencies or operations is for the most part unnoticed by us. when the mind touches the body through the appetites, we acknowledge the responsibility of the one to the other. there is a tendency in us which says 'drink.' there is another which says, 'do not drink; it is not good for you.' and we all of us know which is the rightful superior. we are also responsible for our health, although into this sphere there enter some elements of necessity which may be beyond our control. still even in the management of health, care and thought, continued over many years, may make us almost free agents, if we do not exact too much of ourselves, and if we acknowledge that all human freedom is limited by the laws of nature and of mind. we are disappointed to find that plato, in the general condemnation which he passes on the practice of medicine prevailing in his own day, depreciates the effects of diet. he would like to have diseases of a definite character and capable of receiving a definite treatment. he is afraid of invalidism interfering with the business of life. he does not recognize that time is the great healer both of mental and bodily disorders; and that remedies which are gradual and proceed little by little are safer than those which produce a sudden catastrophe. neither does he see that there is no way in which the mind can more surely influence the body than by the control of eating and drinking; or any other action or occasion of human life on which the higher freedom of the will can be more simple or truly asserted. . lesser matters of style may be remarked. ( ) the affected ignorance of music, which is plato's way of expressing that he is passing lightly over the subject. ( ) the tentative manner in which here, as in the second book, he proceeds with the construction of the state. ( ) the description of the state sometimes as a reality ( d; b), and then again as a work of imagination only (cp. c; b); these are the arts by which he sustains the reader's interest. ( ) connecting links (e.g. c with ), or the preparation ( d) for the entire expulsion of the poets in book x. ( ) the companion pictures of the lover of litigation and the valetudinarian ( ), the satirical jest about the maxim of phocylides ( ), the manner in which {lvi} the image of the gold and silver citizens is taken up into the subject ( e), and the argument from the practice of asclepius ( ), should not escape notice. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic iv._ analysis.] book iv. * * adeimantus said: 'suppose a person to argue, socrates, that you make your citizens miserable, and this by their own free-will; they are the lords of the city, and yet instead of having, like other men, lands and houses and money of their own, they live as mercenaries and are always mounting guard.' * * you may add, i replied, that they receive no pay but only their food, and have no money to spend on a journey or a mistress. 'well, and what answer do you give?' my answer is, that our guardians may or may not be the happiest of men,--i should not be surprised to find in the long-run that they were,--but this is not the aim of our constitution, which was designed for the good of the whole and not of any one part. if i went to a sculptor and blamed him for having painted the eye, which is the noblest feature of the face, not purple but black, he would reply: 'the eye must be an eye, and you should look at the statue as a whole.' 'now i can well imagine a fool's paradise, in which everybody is eating and drinking, clothed in purple and fine linen, and potters lie on sofas and have their wheel at hand, that they may work a little when they please; * * and cobblers and all the other classes of a state lose their distinctive character. and a state may get on without cobblers; but when the guardians degenerate into boon companions, then the ruin is complete. remember that we are not talking of peasants keeping holiday, but of a state in which every man is expected to do his own work. the happiness resides not in this or that class, but in the state as a whole. i have another remark to make:--a middle condition is best for artisans; they should have money enough to buy tools, and not enough to be independent of business. and will not the same condition be best for our citizens? if they are poor, they will be mean; * * if rich, luxurious and lazy; and in neither case contented. 'but then how will our poor city be able to go to war against an enemy who has money?' there may be a difficulty in fighting against one enemy; against two there will be none. in the first place, the contest will be {lvii} carried on by trained warriors against well-to-do citizens: and is not a regular athlete an easy match for two stout opponents at least? suppose also, that before engaging we send ambassadors to one of the two cities, saying, 'silver and gold we have not; do you help us and take our share of the spoil;'--who would fight against the lean, wiry dogs, when they might join with them in preying upon the fatted sheep? 'but if many states join their resources, shall we not be in danger?' i am amused to hear you use the word 'state' of any but our own state. * * they are 'states,' but not 'a state'--many in one. for in every state there are two hostile nations, rich and poor, which you may set one against the other. but our state, while she remains true to her principles, will be in very deed the mightiest of hellenic states. to the size of the state there is no limit but the necessity of unity; it must be neither too large nor too small to be one. this is a matter of secondary importance, like the principle of transposition which was intimated in the parable of the earthborn men. the meaning there implied was that every man should do that for which he was fitted, and be at one with himself, and then the whole city would be united. but all these things are secondary, if education, which is the great matter, be duly regarded. * * when the wheel has once been set in motion, the speed is always increasing; and each generation improves upon the preceding, both in physical and moral qualities. the care of the governors should be directed to preserve music and gymnastic from innovation; alter the songs of a country, damon says, and you will soon end by altering its laws. the change appears innocent at first, and begins in play; but the evil soon becomes serious, working secretly upon the characters of individuals, then upon social and commercial relations, and lastly upon the institutions of a state; and there is ruin and confusion everywhere. * * but if education remains in the established form, there will be no danger. a restorative process will be always going on; the spirit of law and order will raise up what has fallen down. nor will any regulations be needed for the lesser matters of life--rules of deportment or fashions of dress. like invites like for good or for evil. education will correct deficiencies and supply the power of self-government. far be it from us to enter into the {lviii} particulars of legislation; let the guardians take care of education, and education will take care of all other things. but without education they may patch and mend as they please; they will make no progress, any more than a patient who thinks to cure himself by some favourite remedy and will not give up his luxurious mode of living. * * if you tell such persons that they must first alter their habits, then they grow angry; they are charming people. 'charming,--nay, the very reverse.' evidently these gentlemen are not in your good graces, nor the state which is like them. and such states there are which first ordain under penalty of death that no one shall alter the constitution, and then suffer themselves to be flattered into and out of anything; and he who indulges them and fawns upon them, is their leader and saviour. 'yes, the men are as bad as the states.' but do you not admire their cleverness? 'nay, some of them are stupid enough to believe what the people tell them.' and when all the world is telling a man that he is six feet high, and he has no measure, how can he believe anything else? but don't get into a passion: to see our statesmen trying their nostrums, * * and fancying that they can cut off at a blow the hydra-like rogueries of mankind, is as good as a play. minute enactments are superfluous in good states, and are useless in bad ones. and now what remains of the work of legislation? nothing for us; but to apollo the god of delphi we leave the ordering of the greatest of all things--that is to say, religion. only our ancestral deity sitting upon the centre and navel of the earth will be trusted by us if we have any sense, in an affair of such magnitude. no foreign god shall be supreme in our realms.... [sidenote: _republic iv._ introduction.] here, as socrates would say, let us 'reflect on' ([greek: skopô=men]) what has preceded: thus far we have spoken not of the happiness of the citizens, but only of the well-being of the state. they may be the happiest of men, but our principal aim in founding the state was not to make them happy. they were to be guardians, not holiday-makers. in this pleasant manner is presented to us the famous question both of ancient and modern philosophy, touching the relation of duty to happiness, of right to utility. first duty, then happiness, is the natural order of our moral ideas. the utilitarian principle is valuable as a corrective of {lix} error, and shows to us a side of ethics which is apt to be neglected. it may be admitted further that right and utility are co-extensive, and that he who makes the happiness of mankind his object has one of the highest and noblest motives of human action. but utility is not the historical basis of morality; nor the aspect in which moral and religious ideas commonly occur to the mind. the greatest happiness of all is, as we believe, the far-off result of the divine government of the universe. the greatest happiness of the individual is certainly to be found in a life of virtue and goodness. but we seem to be more assured of a law of right than we can be of a divine purpose, that 'all mankind should be saved;' and we infer the one from the other. and the greatest happiness of the individual may be the reverse of the greatest happiness in the ordinary sense of the term, and may be realised in a life of pain, or in a voluntary death. further, the word 'happiness' has several ambiguities; it may mean either pleasure or an ideal life, happiness subjective or objective, in this world or in another, of ourselves only or of our neighbours and of all men everywhere. by the modern founder of utilitarianism the self-regarding and disinterested motives of action are included under the same term, although they are commonly opposed by us as benevolence and self-love. the word happiness has not the definiteness or the sacredness of 'truth' and 'right'; it does not equally appeal to our higher nature, and has not sunk into the conscience of mankind. it is associated too much with the comforts and conveniences of life; too little with 'the goods of the soul which we desire for their own sake.' in a great trial, or danger, or temptation, or in any great and heroic action, it is scarcely thought of. for these reasons 'the greatest happiness' principle is not the true foundation of ethics. but though not the first principle, it is the second, which is like unto it, and is often of easier application. for the larger part of human actions are neither right nor wrong, except in so far as they tend to the happiness of mankind (cp. introd. to gorgias and philebus). the same question reappears in politics, where the useful or expedient seems to claim a larger sphere and to have a greater authority. for concerning political measures, we chiefly ask: how will they affect the happiness of mankind? yet here too we may observe that what we term expediency is merely the law of {lx} right limited by the conditions of human society. right and truth are the highest aims of government as well as of individuals; and we ought not to lose sight of them because we cannot directly enforce them. they appeal to the better mind of nations; and sometimes they are too much for merely temporal interests to resist. they are the watchwords which all men use in matters of public policy, as well as in their private dealings; the peace of europe may be said to depend upon them. in the most commercial and utilitarian states of society the power of ideas remains. and all the higher class of statesmen have in them something of that idealism which pericles is said to have gathered from the teaching of anaxagoras. they recognise that the true leader of men must be above the motives of ambition, and that national character is of greater value than material comfort and prosperity. and this is the order of thought in plato; first, he expects his citizens to do their duty, and then under favourable circumstances, that is to say, in a well-ordered state, their happiness is assured. that he was far from excluding the modern principle of utility in politics is sufficiently evident from other passages; in which 'the most beneficial is affirmed to be the most honourable' (v. b), and also 'the most sacred' (v. e). we may note ( ) the manner in which the objection of adeimantus here, as in ii. foll., ; vi. ad init., etc., is designed to draw out and deepen the argument of socrates. ( ) the conception of a whole as lying at the foundation both of politics and of art, in the latter supplying the only principle of criticism, which, under the various names of harmony, symmetry, measure, proportion, unity, the greek seems to have applied to works of art. ( ) the requirement that the state should be limited in size, after the traditional model of a greek state; as in the politics of aristotle (vii. , etc.), the fact that the cities of hellas were small is converted into a principle. ( ) the humorous pictures of the lean dogs and the fatted sheep, of the light active boxer upsetting two stout gentlemen at least, of the 'charming' patients who are always making themselves worse; or again, the playful assumption that there is no state but our own; or the grave irony with which the statesman is excused who believes that he is six feet high because he is told so, and having nothing to measure with is to be pardoned for his ignorance--he is too {lxi} amusing for us to be seriously angry with him. ( ) the light and superficial manner in which religion is passed over when provision has been made for two great principles,--first, that religion shall be based on the highest conception of the gods (ii. foll.), secondly, that the true national or hellenic type shall be maintained.... [sidenote: _republic iv._ analysis.] socrates proceeds: but where amid all this is justice? son of ariston, tell me where. light a candle and search the city, and get your brother and the rest of our friends to help in seeking for her. 'that won't do,' replied glaucon, 'you yourself promised to make the search and talked about the impiety of deserting justice.' well, i said, i will lead the way, but do you follow. my notion is, that our state being perfect will contain all the four virtues--wisdom, courage, temperance, justice. * * if we eliminate the three first, the unknown remainder will be justice. first then, of wisdom: the state which we have called into being will be wise because politic. and policy is one among many kinds of skill,--not the skill of the carpenter, or of the worker in metal, or of the husbandman, but the skill of him who advises about the interests of the whole state. of such a kind is the skill of the guardians, * * who are a small class in number, far smaller than the blacksmiths; but in them is concentrated the wisdom of the state. and if this small ruling class have wisdom, then the whole state will be wise. our second virtue is courage, which we have no difficulty in finding in another class--that of soldiers. courage may be defined as a sort of salvation--the never-failing salvation of the opinions which law and education have prescribed concerning dangers. you know the way in which dyers first prepare the white ground and then lay on the dye of purple or of any other colour. colours dyed in this way become fixed, and no soap or lye will ever wash them out. * * now the ground is education, and the laws are the colours; and if the ground is properly laid, neither the soap of pleasure nor the lye of pain or fear will ever wash them out. this power which preserves right opinion about danger i would ask you to call 'courage,' adding the epithet 'political' or 'civilized' in order to distinguish it from mere animal courage and from a higher courage which may hereafter be discussed. {lxii} two virtues remain; temperance and justice. more than the preceding virtues * * temperance suggests the idea of harmony. some light is thrown upon the nature of this virtue by the popular description of a man as 'master of himself'--which has an absurd sound, because the master is also the servant. the expression really means that the better principle in a man masters the worse. there are in cities whole classes--women, slaves and the like--who correspond to the worse, and a few only to the better; and in our state the former class are held under control by the latter. now to which of these classes does temperance belong? 'to both of them.' and our state if any will be the abode of temperance; and we were right in describing this virtue as a harmony which is diffused through the whole, * * making the dwellers in the city to be of one mind, and attuning the upper and middle and lower classes like the strings of an instrument, whether you suppose them to differ in wisdom, strength or wealth. and now we are near the spot; let us draw in and surround the cover and watch with all our eyes, lest justice should slip away and escape. tell me, if you see the thicket move first. 'nay, i would have you lead.' well then, offer up a prayer and follow. the way is dark and difficult; but we must push on. i begin to see a track. 'good news.' why, glaucon, our dulness of scent is quite ludicrous! while we are straining our eyes into the distance, justice is tumbling out at our feet. we are as bad as people looking for a thing which they have in their hands. have you forgotten our old * * principle of the division of labour, or of every man doing his own business, concerning which we spoke at the foundation of the state--what but this was justice? is there any other virtue remaining which can compete with wisdom and temperance and courage in the scale of political virtue? for 'every one having his own' is the great object of government; * * and the great object of trade is that every man should do his own business. not that there is much harm in a carpenter trying to be a cobbler, or a cobbler transforming himself into a carpenter; but great evil may arise from the cobbler leaving his last and turning into a guardian or legislator, or when a single individual is trainer, warrior, legislator, all in one. and this evil is injustice, or every man doing another's business. i do not say that as yet we are in a condition to arrive at a final conclusion. for the {lxiii} definition which we believe to hold good in states has still to be tested by the individual. having read the large letters we will now come back to the small. from the two together a brilliant light may be struck out.... [sidenote: _republic iv._ introduction.] socrates proceeds to discover the nature of justice by a method of residues. each of the first three virtues corresponds to one of the three parts of the soul and one of the three classes in the state, although the third, temperance, has more of the nature of a harmony than the first two. if there be a fourth virtue, that can only be sought for in the relation of the three parts in the soul or classes in the state to one another. it is obvious and simple, and for that very reason has not been found out. the modern logician will be inclined to object that ideas cannot be separated like chemical substances, but that they run into one another and may be only different aspects or names of the same thing, and such in this instance appears to be the case. for the definition here given of justice is verbally the same as one of the definitions of temperance given by socrates in the charmides ( a), which however is only provisional, and is afterwards rejected. and so far from justice remaining over when the other virtues are eliminated, the justice and temperance of the republic can with difficulty be distinguished. temperance appears to be the virtue of a part only, and one of three, whereas justice is a universal virtue of the whole soul. yet on the other hand temperance is also described as a sort of harmony, and in this respect is akin to justice. justice seems to differ from temperance in degree rather than in kind; whereas temperance is the harmony of discordant elements, justice is the perfect order by which all natures and classes do their own business, the right man in the right place, the division and co-operation of all the citizens. justice, again, is a more abstract notion than the other virtues, and therefore, from plato's point of view, the foundation of them, to which they are referred and which in idea precedes them. the proposal to omit temperance is a mere trick of style intended to avoid monotony (cp. vii. ). there is a famous question discussed in one of the earlier dialogues of plato (protagoras, , ; cp. arist. nic. ethics, vi. . ), 'whether the virtues are one or many?' this receives an answer which is to the effect that there are four cardinal virtues {lxiv} (now for the first time brought together in ethical philosophy), and one supreme over the rest, which is not like aristotle's conception of universal justice, virtue relative to others, but the whole of virtue relative to the parts. to this universal conception of justice or order in the first education and in the moral nature of man, the still more universal conception of the good in the second education and in the sphere of speculative knowledge seems to succeed. both might be equally described by the terms 'law,' 'order,' 'harmony;' but while the idea of good embraces 'all time and all existence,' the conception of justice is not extended beyond man. [sidenote: _republic iv._ analysis.] ... socrates is now going to identify the individual and the state. but first he must prove that there are three parts of the individual soul. his argument is as follows:--quantity makes no difference in quality. the word 'just,' whether applied to the individual or to the state, has the same meaning. and the term 'justice' implied that the same three principles in the state and in the individual were doing their own business. but are they really three or one? the question is difficult, and one which can hardly be solved by the methods which we are now using; but the truer and longer way would take up too much of our time. 'the shorter will satisfy me.' well then, you would admit that the qualities of states mean the qualities of the individuals who compose them? the scythians and thracians are passionate, our own race intellectual, * * and the egyptians and phoenicians covetous, because the individual members of each have such and such a character; the difficulty is to determine whether the several principles are one or three; whether, that is to say, we reason with one part of our nature, desire with another, are angry with another, or whether the whole soul comes into play in each sort of action. this enquiry, however, requires a very exact definition of terms. the same thing in the same relation cannot be affected in two opposite ways. but there is no impossibility in a man standing still, yet moving his arms, or in a top which is fixed on one spot going round upon its axis. there is no necessity to mention all the possible exceptions; * * let us provisionally assume that opposites cannot do or be or suffer opposites in the same relation. and to the class of opposites belong assent and dissent, desire and avoidance. and one form {lxv} of desire is thirst and hunger: and here arises a new point--thirst is thirst of drink, hunger is hunger of food; not of warm drink or of a particular kind of food, * * with the single exception of course that the very fact of our desiring anything implies that it is good. when relative terms have no attributes, their correlatives have no attributes; when they have attributes, their correlatives also have them. for example, the term 'greater' is simply relative to 'less,' and knowledge refers to a subject of knowledge. but on the other hand, a particular knowledge is of a particular subject. again, every science has a distinct character, which is defined by an object; medicine, for example, is the science of health, although not to be confounded with health. * * having cleared our ideas thus far, let us return to the original instance of thirst, which has a definite object--drink. now the thirsty soul may feel two distinct impulses; the animal one saying 'drink;' the rational one, which says 'do not drink.' the two impulses are contradictory; and therefore we may assume that they spring from distinct principles in the soul. but is passion a third principle, or akin to desire? there is a story of a certain leontius which throws some light on this question. he was coming up from the piraeus outside the north wall, and he passed a spot where there were dead bodies lying by the executioner. he felt a longing desire to see them and also an abhorrence of them; at first he turned away and shut his eyes, then, * * suddenly tearing them open, he said,--'take your fill, ye wretches, of the fair sight.' now is there not here a third principle which is often found to come to the assistance of reason against desire, but never of desire against reason? this is passion or spirit, of the separate existence of which we may further convince ourselves by putting the following case:--when a man suffers justly, if he be of a generous nature he is not indignant at the hardships which he undergoes: but when he suffers unjustly, his indignation is his great support; hunger and thirst cannot tame him; the spirit within him must do or die, until the voice of the shepherd, that is, of reason, bidding his dog bark no more, is heard within. this shows that passion is the ally of reason. * * is passion then the same with reason? no, for the former exists in children and brutes; and homer affords a proof of the distinction between them when he says, 'he smote his breast, and thus rebuked his soul.' {lxvi} and now, at last, we have reached firm ground, and are able to infer that the virtues of the state and of the individual are the same. for wisdom and courage and justice in the state are severally the wisdom and courage and justice in the individuals who form the state. each of the three classes will do the work of its own class in the state, and each part in the individual soul; reason, the superior, and passion, the inferior, * * will be harmonized by the influence of music and gymnastic. the counsellor and the warrior, the head and the arm, will act together in the town of mansoul, and keep the desires in proper subjection. the courage of the warrior is that quality which preserves a right opinion about dangers in spite of pleasures and pains. the wisdom of the counsellor is that small part of the soul which has authority and reason. the virtue of temperance is the friendship of the ruling and the subject principles, both in the state and in the individual. of justice we have already spoken; and the notion already given of it may be confirmed by common instances. will the just state or the just individual * * steal, lie, commit adultery, or be guilty of impiety to gods and men? 'no.' and is not the reason of this that the several principles, whether in the state or in the individual, do their own business? and justice is the quality which makes just men and just states. moreover, our old division of labour, which required that there should be one man for one use, was a dream or anticipation of what was to follow; and that dream has now been realized in justice, which begins by binding together the three chords of the soul, and then acts harmoniously in every relation of life. * * and injustice, which is the insubordination and disobedience of the inferior elements in the soul, is the opposite of justice, and is inharmonious and unnatural, being to the soul what disease is to the body; for in the soul as well as in the body, good or bad actions produce good or bad habits. and virtue is the health and beauty and well-being of the soul, and vice is the disease and weakness and deformity of the soul. * * again the old question returns upon us: is justice or injustice the more profitable? the question has become ridiculous. for injustice, like mortal disease, makes life not worth having. come up with me to the hill which overhangs the city and look down upon the single form of virtue, and the infinite forms of vice, {lxvii} among which are four special ones, characteristic both of states and of individuals. and the state which corresponds to the single form of virtue is that which we have been describing, wherein reason rules under one of two names--monarchy and aristocracy. thus there are five forms in all, both of states and of souls.... [sidenote: _republic iv._ introduction.] in attempting to prove that the soul has three separate faculties, plato takes occasion to discuss what makes difference of faculties. and the criterion which he proposes is difference in the working of the faculties. the same faculty cannot produce contradictory effects. but the path of early reasoners is beset by thorny entanglements, and he will not proceed a step without first clearing the ground. this leads him into a tiresome digression, which is intended to explain the nature of contradiction. first, the contradiction must be at the same time and in the same relation. secondly, no extraneous word must be introduced into either of the terms in which the contradictory proposition is expressed: for example, thirst is of drink, not of warm drink. he implies, what he does not say, that if, by the advice of reason, or by the impulse of anger, a man is restrained from drinking, this proves that thirst, or desire under which thirst is included, is distinct from anger and reason. but suppose that we allow the term 'thirst' or 'desire' to be modified, and say an 'angry thirst,' or a 'revengeful desire,' then the two spheres of desire and anger overlap and become confused. this case therefore has to be excluded. and still there remains an exception to the rule in the use of the term 'good,' which is always implied in the object of desire. these are the discussions of an age before logic; and any one who is wearied by them should remember that they are necessary to the clearing up of ideas in the first development of the human faculties. the psychology of plato extends no further than the division of the soul into the rational, irascible, and concupiscent elements, which, as far as we know, was first made by him, and has been retained by aristotle and succeeding ethical writers. the chief difficulty in this early analysis of the mind is to define exactly the place of the irascible faculty ([greek: thumo/s]), which may be variously described under the terms righteous indignation, spirit, passion. it is the foundation of courage, which includes in plato {lxviii} moral courage, the courage of enduring pain, and of surmounting intellectual difficulties, as well as of meeting dangers in war. though irrational, it inclines to side with the rational: it cannot be aroused by punishment when justly inflicted: it sometimes takes the form of an enthusiasm which sustains a man in the performance of great actions. it is the 'lion heart' with which the reason makes a treaty (ix. b). on the other hand it is negative rather than positive; it is indignant at wrong or falsehood, but does not, like love in the symposium and phaedrus, aspire to the vision of truth or good. it is the peremptory military spirit which prevails in the government of honour. it differs from anger ([greek: o)rgê/]), this latter term having no accessory notion of righteous indignation. although aristotle has retained the word, yet we may observe that 'passion' ([greek: thumo/s]) has with him lost its affinity to the rational and has become indistinguishable from 'anger' ([greek: o)rgê/]). and to this vernacular use plato himself in the laws seems to revert (ix. b), though not always (v. a). by modern philosophy too, as well as in our ordinary conversation, the words anger or passion are employed almost exclusively in a bad sense; there is no connotation of a just or reasonable cause by which they are aroused. the feeling of 'righteous indignation' is too partial and accidental to admit of our regarding it as a separate virtue or habit. we are tempted also to doubt whether plato is right in supposing that an offender, however justly condemned, could be expected to acknowledge the justice of his sentence; this is the spirit of a philosopher or martyr rather than of a criminal. we may observe (p. d, e) how nearly plato approaches aristotle's famous thesis, that 'good actions produce good habits.' the words 'as healthy practices ([greek: e)pitêdeu/mata]) produce health, so do just practices produce justice,' have a sound very like the nicomachean ethics. but we note also that an incidental remark in plato has become a far-reaching principle in aristotle, and an inseparable part of a great ethical system. there is a difficulty in understanding what plato meant by 'the longer way' ( d; cp. _infra_, vi. ): he seems to intimate some metaphysic of the future which will not be satisfied with arguing from the principle of contradiction. in the sixth and seventh books (compare sophist and parmenides) he has given {lxix} us a sketch of such a metaphysic; but when glaucon asks for the final revelation of the idea of good, he is put off with the declaration that he has not yet studied the preliminary sciences. how he would have filled up the sketch, or argued about such questions from a higher point of view, we can only conjecture. perhaps he hoped to find some _a priori_ method of developing the parts out of the whole; or he might have asked which of the ideas contains the other ideas, and possibly have stumbled on the hegelian identity of the 'ego' and the 'universal.' or he may have imagined that ideas might be constructed in some manner analogous to the construction of figures and numbers in the mathematical sciences. the most certain and necessary truth was to plato the universal; and to this he was always seeking to refer all knowledge or opinion, just as in modern times we seek to rest them on the opposite pole of induction and experience. the aspirations of metaphysicians have always tended to pass beyond the limits of human thought and language: they seem to have reached a height at which they are 'moving about in worlds unrealized,' and their conceptions, although profoundly affecting their own minds, become invisible or unintelligible to others. we are not therefore surprized to find that plato himself has nowhere clearly explained his doctrine of ideas; or that his school in a later generation, like his contemporaries glaucon and adeimantus, were unable to follow him in this region of speculation. in the sophist, where he is refuting the scepticism which maintained either that there was no such thing as predication, or that all might be predicated of all, he arrives at the conclusion that some ideas combine with some, but not all with all. but he makes only one or two steps forward on this path; he nowhere attains to any connected system of ideas, or even to a knowledge of the most elementary relations of the sciences to one another (see _infra_). * * * * * [sidenote: _republic v._ analysis.] book v. * * i was going to enumerate the four forms of vice or decline in states, when polemarchus--he was sitting a little farther from me than adeimantus--taking him by the coat and leaning towards him, said something in an undertone, of which i only caught the words, 'shall we let him off?' 'certainly not,' said adeimantus, raising his voice. whom, i said, are you {lxx} not going to let off? 'you,' he said. why? 'because we think that you are not dealing fairly with us in omitting women and children, of whom you have slily disposed under the general formula that friends have all things in common.' and was i not right? 'yes,' he replied, 'but there are many sorts of communism or community, and we want to know which of them is right. the company, as you have just heard, are resolved to have a further explanation.' * * thrasymachus said, 'do you think that we have come hither to dig for gold, or to hear you discourse?' yes, i said; but the discourse should be of a reasonable length. glaucon added, 'yes, socrates, and there is reason in spending the whole of life in such discussions; but pray, without more ado, tell us how this community is to be carried out, and how the interval between birth and education is to be filled up.' well, i said, the subject has several difficulties--what is possible? is the first question. what is desirable? is the second. 'fear not,' he replied, 'for you are speaking among friends.' that, i replied, is a sorry consolation; i shall destroy my friends as well as myself. * * not that i mind a little innocent laughter; but he who kills the truth is a murderer. 'then,' said glaucon, laughing, 'in case you should murder us we will acquit you beforehand, and you shall be held free from the guilt of deceiving us.' socrates proceeds:--the guardians of our state are to be watch-dogs, as we have already said. now dogs are not divided into hes and shes--we do not take the masculine gender out to hunt and leave the females at home to look after their puppies. they have the same employments--the only difference between them is that the one sex is stronger and the other weaker. but if women are to have the same employments as men, they must have the same education--they must be taught music and gymnastics, and the art of war. * * i know that a great joke will be made of their riding on horseback and carrying weapons; the sight of the naked old wrinkled women showing their agility in the palaestra will certainly not be a vision of beauty, and may be expected to become a famous jest. but we must not mind the wits; there was a time when they might have laughed at our present gymnastics. all is habit: people have at last found out that the exposure is better than the concealment of the {lxxi} person, and now they laugh no more. evil only should be the subject of ridicule. * * the first question is, whether women are able either wholly or partially to share in the employments of men. and here we may be charged with inconsistency in making the proposal at all. for we started originally with the division of labour; and the diversity of employments was based on the difference of natures. but is there no difference between men and women? nay, are they not wholly different? _there_ was the difficulty, glaucon, which made me unwilling to speak of family relations. however, when a man is out of his depth, whether in a pool or in an ocean, he can only swim for his life; and we must try to find a way of escape, if we can. * * the argument is, that different natures have different uses, and the natures of men and women are said to differ. but this is only a verbal opposition. we do not consider that the difference may be purely nominal and accidental; for example, a bald man and a hairy man are opposed in a single point of view, but you cannot infer that because a bald man is a cobbler a hairy man ought not to be a cobbler. now why is such an inference erroneous? simply because the opposition between them is partial only, like the difference between a male physician and a female physician, not running through the whole nature, like the difference between a physician and a carpenter. and if the difference of the sexes is only that the one beget and the other bear children, this does not prove that they ought to have distinct educations. * * admitting that women differ from men in capacity, do not men equally differ from one another? has not nature scattered all the qualities which our citizens require indifferently up and down among the two sexes? and even in their peculiar pursuits, are not women often, though in some cases superior to men, ridiculously enough surpassed by them? women are the same in kind as men, and have the same aptitude or want of aptitude for medicine or gymnastic or war, * * but in a less degree. one woman will be a good guardian, another not; and the good must be chosen to be the colleagues of our guardians. if however their natures are the same, the inference is that their education must also be the same; there is no longer anything unnatural or impossible in a woman learning music {lxxii} and gymnastic. and the education which we give them will be the very best, far superior to that of cobblers, and will train up the very best women, and nothing can be more advantageous to the state than this. * * therefore let them strip, clothed in their chastity, and share in the toils of war and in the defence of their country; he who laughs at them is a fool for his pains. the first wave is past, and the argument is compelled to admit that men and women have common duties and pursuits. a second and greater wave is rolling in--community of wives and children; is this either expedient or possible? the expediency i do not doubt; i am not so sure of the possibility. 'nay, i think that a considerable doubt will be entertained on both points.' i meant to have escaped the trouble of proving the first, but as you have detected the little stratagem i must even submit. * * only allow me to feed my fancy like the solitary in his walks, with a dream of what might be, and then i will return to the question of what can be. in the first place our rulers will enforce the laws and make new ones where they are wanted, and their allies or ministers will obey. you, as legislator, have already selected the men; and now you shall select the women. after the selection has been made, they will dwell in common houses and have their meals in common, and will be brought together by a necessity more certain than that of mathematics. but they cannot be allowed to live in licentiousness; that is an unholy thing, which the rulers are determined to prevent. for the avoidance of this, * * holy marriage festivals will be instituted, and their holiness will be in proportion to their usefulness. and here, glaucon, i should like to ask (as i know that you are a breeder of birds and animals), do you not take the greatest care in the mating? 'certainly.' and there is no reason to suppose that less care is required in the marriage of human beings. but then our rulers must be skilful physicians of the state, for they will often need a strong dose of falsehood in order to bring about desirable unions between their subjects. the good must be paired with the good, and the bad with the bad, and the offspring of the one must be reared, and of the other destroyed; in this way the flock will be preserved in prime condition. * * hymeneal festivals will be celebrated at times fixed with an eye to population, and the brides and bridegrooms will {lxxiii} meet at them; and by an ingenious system of lots the rulers will contrive that the brave and the fair come together, and that those of inferior breed are paired with inferiors--the latter will ascribe to chance what is really the invention of the rulers. and when children are born, the offspring of the brave and fair will be carried to an enclosure in a certain part of the city, and there attended by suitable nurses; the rest will be hurried away to places unknown. the mothers will be brought to the fold and will suckle the children; care however must be taken that none of them recognise their own offspring; and if necessary other nurses may also be hired. the trouble of watching and getting up at night will be transferred to attendants. 'then the wives of our guardians will have a fine easy time when they are having children.' and quite right too, i said, that they should. the parents ought to be in the prime of life, which for a man may be reckoned at thirty years--from twenty-five, * * when he has 'passed the point at which the speed of life is greatest,' to fifty-five; and at twenty years for a woman--from twenty to forty. any one above or below those ages who partakes in the hymeneals shall be guilty of impiety; also every one who forms a marriage connexion at other times without the consent of the rulers. this latter regulation applies to those who are within the specified ages, after which they may range at will, provided they avoid the prohibited degrees of parents and children, or of brothers and sisters, which last, however, are not absolutely prohibited, if a dispensation be procured. 'but how shall we know the degrees of affinity, when all things are common?' the answer is, that brothers and sisters are all such as are born seven or nine months after the espousals, and their parents those who are then espoused, * * and every one will have many children and every child many parents. socrates proceeds: i have now to prove that this scheme is advantageous and also consistent with our entire polity. the greatest good of a state is unity; the greatest evil, discord and distraction. and there will be unity where there are no private pleasures or pains or interests--where if one member suffers all the members suffer, if one citizen is touched all are quickly sensitive; and the least hurt to the little finger of the state runs through the whole body and vibrates to the soul. for the true {lxxiv} state, like an individual, is injured as a whole when any part is affected. * * every state has subjects and rulers, who in a democracy are called rulers, and in other states masters: but in our state they are called saviours and allies; and the subjects who in other states are termed slaves, are by us termed nurturers and paymasters, and those who are termed comrades and colleagues in other places, are by us called fathers and brothers. and whereas in other states members of the same government regard one of their colleagues as a friend and another as an enemy, in our state no man is a stranger to another; for every citizen is connected with every other by ties of blood, and these names and this way of speaking will have a corresponding reality--brother, father, sister, mother, repeated from infancy in the ears of children, will not be mere words. * * then again the citizens will have all things in common, in having common property they will have common pleasures and pains. can there be strife and contention among those who are of one mind; or lawsuits about property when men have nothing but their bodies which they call their own; or suits about violence when every one is bound to defend himself? * * the permission to strike when insulted will be an 'antidote' to the knife and will prevent disturbances in the state. but no younger man will strike an elder; reverence will prevent him from laying hands on his kindred, and he will fear that the rest of the family may retaliate. moreover, our citizens will be rid of the lesser evils of life; there will be no flattery of the rich, no sordid household cares, no borrowing and not paying. compared with the citizens of other states, ours will be olympic victors, and crowned with blessings greater still--they and their children having a better maintenance during life, and after death an honourable burial. * * nor has the happiness of the individual been sacrificed to the happiness of the state (cp. iv. e); our olympic victor has not been turned into a cobbler, but he has a happiness beyond that of any cobbler. at the same time, if any conceited youth begins to dream of appropriating the state to himself, he must be reminded that 'half is better than the whole.' 'i should certainly advise him to stay where he is when he has the promise of such a brave life.' but is such a community possible?--as among the animals, so {lxxv} also among men; and if possible, in what way possible? about war there is no difficulty; the principle of communism is adapted to military service. parents will take their children to look on at a battle, * * just as potters' boys are trained to the business by looking on at the wheel. and to the parents themselves, as to other animals, the sight of their young ones will prove a great incentive to bravery. young warriors must learn, but they must not run into danger, although a certain degree of risk is worth incurring when the benefit is great. the young creatures should be placed under the care of experienced veterans, and they should have wings--that is to say, swift and tractable steeds on which they may fly away and escape. * * one of the first things to be done is to teach a youth to ride. cowards and deserters shall be degraded to the class of husbandmen; gentlemen who allow themselves to be taken prisoners, may be presented to the enemy. but what shall be done to the hero? first of all he shall be crowned by all the youths in the army; secondly, he shall receive the right hand of fellowship; and thirdly, do you think that there is any harm in his being kissed? we have already determined that he shall have more wives than others, in order that he may have as many children as possible. and at a feast he shall have more to eat; we have the authority of homer for honouring brave men with 'long chines,' which is an appropriate compliment, because meat is a very strengthening thing. fill the bowl then, and give the best seats and meats to the brave--may they do them good! and he who dies in battle will be at once declared to be of the golden race, and will, as we believe, become one of hesiod's guardian angels. * * he shall be worshipped after death in the manner prescribed by the oracle; and not only he, but all other benefactors of the state who die in any other way, shall be admitted to the same honours. the next question is, how shall we treat our enemies? shall hellenes be enslaved? no; for there is too great a risk of the whole race passing under the yoke of the barbarians. or shall the dead be despoiled? certainly not; for that sort of thing is an excuse for skulking, and has been the ruin of many an army. there is meanness and feminine malice in making an enemy of the dead body, when the soul which was the owner has fled-- {lxxvi} like a dog who cannot reach his assailants, and quarrels with the stones which are thrown at him instead. again, the arms of hellenes should not be offered up in the temples of the gods; * * they are a pollution, for they are taken from brethren. and on similar grounds there should be a limit to the devastation of hellenic territory--the houses should not be burnt, nor more than the annual produce carried off. for war is of two kinds, civil and foreign; the first of which is properly termed 'discord,' and only the second 'war;' and war between hellenes is in reality civil war--a quarrel in a family, which is ever to be regarded as unpatriotic and unnatural, * * and ought to be prosecuted with a view to reconciliation in a true phil-hellenic spirit, as of those who would chasten but not utterly enslave. the war is not against a whole nation who are a friendly multitude of men, women, and children, but only against a few guilty persons; when they are punished peace will be restored. that is the way in which hellenes should war against one another--and against barbarians, as they war against one another now. 'but, my dear socrates, you are forgetting the main question: is such a state possible? i grant all and more than you say about the blessedness of being one family--fathers, brothers, mothers, daughters, going out to war together; but i want to ascertain the possibility of this ideal state.' you are too unmerciful. * * the first wave and the second wave i have hardly escaped, and now you will certainly drown me with the third. when you see the towering crest of the wave, i expect you to take pity. 'not a whit.' well, then, we were led to form our ideal polity in the search after justice, and the just man answered to the just state. is this ideal at all the worse for being impracticable? would the picture of a perfectly beautiful man be any the worse because no such man ever lived? can any reality come up to the idea? nature will not allow words to be fully realized; * * but if i am to try and realize the ideal of the state in a measure, i think that an approach may be made to the perfection of which i dream by one or two, i do not say slight, but possible changes in the present constitution of states. i would reduce them to a single one--the great wave, as i call it. _until, then, kings are philosophers, or philosophers are kings, cities will never cease from ill: no, nor the {lxxvii} human race; nor will our ideal polity ever come into being._ i know that this is a hard saying, which few will be able to receive. 'socrates, all the world will take off his coat and rush upon you with sticks and stones, * * and therefore i would advise you to prepare an answer.' you got me into the scrape, i said. 'and i was right,' he replied; 'however, i will stand by you as a sort of do-nothing, well-meaning ally.' having the help of such a champion, i will do my best to maintain my position. and first, i must explain of whom i speak and what sort of natures these are who are to be philosophers and rulers. as you are a man of pleasure, you will not have forgotten how indiscriminate lovers are in their attachments; they love all, and turn blemishes into beauties. the snub-nosed youth is said to have a winning grace; the beak of another has a royal look; the featureless are faultless; the dark are manly, the fair angels; the sickly have a new term of endearment invented expressly for them, which is 'honey-pale.' * * lovers of wine and lovers of ambition also desire the objects of their affection in every form. now here comes the point:--the philosopher too is a lover of knowledge in every form; he has an insatiable curiosity. 'but will curiosity make a philosopher? are the lovers of sights and sounds, who let out their ears to every chorus at the dionysiac festivals, to be called philosophers?' they are not true philosophers, but only an imitation. 'then how are we to describe the true?' you would acknowledge the existence of abstract ideas, * * such as justice, beauty, good, evil, which are severally one, yet in their various combinations appear to be many. those who recognize these realities are philosophers; whereas the other class hear sounds and see colours, and understand their use in the arts, but cannot attain to the true or waking vision of absolute justice or beauty or truth; they have not the light of knowledge, but of opinion, and what they see is a dream only. perhaps he of whom we say the last will be angry with us; can we pacify him without revealing the disorder of his mind? suppose we say that, if he has knowledge we rejoice to hear it, but knowledge must be of something which is, as ignorance is of something which is not; * * and there is a third thing, which both is and is not, and is matter of opinion only. opinion and knowledge, then, having distinct objects, must also be distinct faculties. and {lxxviii} by faculties i mean powers unseen and distinguishable only by the difference in their objects, as opinion and knowledge differ, since the one is liable to err, but the other is unerring and is the mightiest of all our faculties. if being is the object of knowledge, * * and not-being of ignorance, and these are the extremes, opinion must lie between them, and may be called darker than the one and brighter than the other. this intermediate or contingent matter is and is not at the same time, and partakes both of existence and of non-existence. * * now i would ask my good friend, who denies abstract beauty and justice, and affirms a many beautiful and a many just, whether everything he sees is not in some point of view different--the beautiful ugly, the pious impious, the just unjust? is not the double also the half, and are not heavy and light relative terms which pass into one another? everything is and is not, as in the old riddle--'a man and not a man shot and did not shoot a bird and not a bird with a stone and not a stone.' the mind cannot be fixed on either alternative; and these ambiguous, intermediate, erring, half-lighted objects, which have a disorderly movement in the region between being and not-being, are the proper matter of opinion, * * as the immutable objects are the proper matter of knowledge. and he who grovels in the world of sense, and has only this uncertain perception of things, is not a philosopher, but a lover of opinion only.... * * * * * [sidenote: _republic v._ introduction.] the fifth book is the new beginning of the republic, in which the community of property and of family are first maintained, and the transition is made to the kingdom of philosophers. for both of these plato, after his manner, has been preparing in some chance words of book iv ( a), which fall unperceived on the reader's mind, as they are supposed at first to have fallen on the ear of glaucon and adeimantus. the 'paradoxes,' as morgenstern terms them, of this book of the republic will be reserved for another place; a few remarks on the style, and some explanations of difficulties, may be briefly added. first, there is the image of the waves, which serves for a sort of scheme or plan of the book. the first wave, the second wave, the third and greatest wave come rolling in, and we hear the roar of them. all that can be said of the extravagance of plato's proposals is anticipated by himself. nothing is more admirable than the {lxxix} hesitation with which he proposes the solemn text, 'until kings are philosophers,' &c.; or the reaction from the sublime to the ridiculous, when glaucon describes the manner in which the new truth will be received by mankind. some defects and difficulties may be noted in the execution of the communistic plan. nothing is told us of the application of communism to the lower classes; nor is the table of prohibited degrees capable of being made out. it is quite possible that a child born at one hymeneal festival may marry one of its own brothers or sisters, or even one of its parents, at another. plato is afraid of incestuous unions, but at the same time he does not wish to bring before us the fact that the city would be divided into families of those born seven and nine months after each hymeneal festival. if it were worth while to argue seriously about such fancies, we might remark that while all the old affinities are abolished, the newly prohibited affinity rests not on any natural or rational principle, but only upon the accident of children having been born in the same month and year. nor does he explain how the lots could be so manipulated by the legislature as to bring together the fairest and best. the singular expression ( e) which is employed to describe the age of five-and-twenty may perhaps be taken from some poet. in the delineation of the philosopher, the illustrations of the nature of philosophy derived from love are more suited to the apprehension of glaucon, the athenian man of pleasure, than to modern tastes or feelings (cp. v. , ). they are partly facetious, but also contain a germ of truth. that science is a whole, remains a true principle of inductive as well as of metaphysical philosophy; and the love of universal knowledge is still the characteristic of the philosopher in modern as well as in ancient times. at the end of the fifth book plato introduces the figment of contingent matter, which has exercised so great an influence both on the ethics and theology of the modern world, and which occurs here for the first time in the history of philosophy. he did not remark that the degrees of knowledge in the subject have nothing corresponding to them in the object. with him a word must answer to an idea; and he could not conceive of an opinion which was an opinion about nothing. the influence of analogy led him to invent 'parallels and conjugates' and to overlook facts. to us {lxxx} some of his difficulties are puzzling only from their simplicity: we do not perceive that the answer to them 'is tumbling out at our feet.' to the mind of early thinkers, the conception of not-being was dark and mysterious (sophist, a); they did not see that this terrible apparition which threatened destruction to all knowledge was only a logical determination. the common term under which, through the accidental use of language, two entirely different ideas were included was another source of confusion. thus through the ambiguity of [greek: dokei=n, phai/netai, e)/oiken, k.t.l.], plato, attempting to introduce order into the first chaos of human thought, seems to have confused perception and opinion, and to have failed to distinguish the contingent from the relative. in the theaetetus the first of these difficulties begins to clear up; in the sophist the second; and for this, as well as for other reasons, both these dialogues are probably to be regarded as later than the republic. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic vi._ analysis.] book vi. * * having determined that the many have no knowledge of true being, and have no clear patterns in their minds of justice, beauty, truth, and that philosophers have such patterns, we have now to ask whether they or the many shall be rulers in our state. but who can doubt that philosophers should be chosen, if they have the other qualities which are required in a ruler? * * for they are lovers of the knowledge of the eternal and of all truth; they are haters of falsehood; their meaner desires are absorbed in the interests of knowledge; they are spectators of all time and all existence; * * and in the magnificence of their contemplation the life of man is as nothing to them, nor is death fearful. also they are of a social, gracious disposition, equally free from cowardice and arrogance. they learn and remember easily; they have harmonious, well-regulated minds; truth flows to them sweetly by nature. can the god of jealousy himself * * find any fault with such an assemblage of good qualities? here adeimantus interposes:--'no man can answer you, socrates; but every man feels that this is owing to his own deficiency in argument. he is driven from one position to another, until he has nothing more to say, just as an unskilful player at draughts is reduced to his last move by a more skilled opponent. and yet all the time he may be right. {lxxxi} he may know, in this very instance, that those who make philosophy the business of their lives, generally turn out rogues if they are bad men, and fools if they are good. what do you say?' i should say that he is quite right. 'then how is such an admission reconcileable with the doctrine that philosophers should be kings?' * * i shall answer you in a parable which will also let you see how poor a hand i am at the invention of allegories. the relation of good men to their governments is so peculiar, that in order to defend them i must take an illustration from the world of fiction. conceive the captain of a ship, taller by a head and shoulders than any of the crew, yet a little deaf, a little blind, and rather ignorant of the seaman's art. the sailors want to steer, although they know nothing of the art; and they have a theory that it cannot be learned. if the helm is refused them, they drug the captain's posset, bind him hand and foot, and take possession of the ship. he who joins in the mutiny is termed a good pilot and what not; they have no conception that the true pilot must observe the winds and the stars, and must be their master, whether they like it or not;--such an one would be called by them fool, prater, star-gazer. * * this is my parable; which i will beg you to interpret for me to those gentlemen who ask why the philosopher has such an evil name, and to explain to them that not he, but those who will not use him, are to blame for his uselessness. the philosopher should not beg of mankind to be put in authority over them. the wise man should not seek the rich, as the proverb bids, but every man, whether rich or poor, must knock at the door of the physician when he has need of him. now the pilot is the philosopher--he whom in the parable they call star-gazer, and the mutinous sailors are the mob of politicians by whom he is rendered useless. not that these are the worst enemies of philosophy, who is far more dishonoured by her own professing sons when they are corrupted by the world. * * need i recall the original image of the philosopher? did we not say of him just now, that he loved truth and hated falsehood, and that he could not rest in the multiplicity of phenomena, but was led by a sympathy in his own nature to the contemplation of the absolute? all the virtues as well as truth, who is the leader of them, took up their abode in his soul. but as you were observing, if we turn aside to view the reality, we see {lxxxii} that the persons who were thus described, with the exception of a small and useless class, are utter rogues. the point which has to be considered, is the origin of this corruption in nature. * * every one will admit that the philosopher, in our description of him, is a rare being. but what numberless causes tend to destroy these rare beings! there is no good thing which may not be a cause of evil--health, wealth, strength, rank, and the virtues themselves, when placed under unfavourable circumstances. for as in the animal or vegetable world the strongest seeds most need the accompaniment of good air and soil, so the best of human characters turn out the worst when they fall upon an unsuitable soil; whereas weak natures hardly ever do any considerable good or harm; they are not the stuff out of which either great criminals or great heroes are made. * * the philosopher follows the same analogy: he is either the best or the worst of all men. some persons say that the sophists are the corrupters of youth; but is not public opinion the real sophist who is everywhere present--in those very persons, in the assembly, in the courts, in the camp, in the applauses and hisses of the theatre re-echoed by the surrounding hills? will not a young man's heart leap amid these discordant sounds? and will any education save him from being carried away by the torrent? nor is this all. for if he will not yield to opinion, there follows the gentle compulsion of exile or death. what principle of rival sophists or anybody else can overcome in such an unequal contest? characters there may be more than human, * * who are exceptions--god may save a man, but not his own strength. further, i would have you consider that the hireling sophist only gives back to the world their own opinions; he is the keeper of the monster, who knows how to flatter or anger him, and observes the meaning of his inarticulate grunts. good is what pleases him, evil what he dislikes; truth and beauty are determined only by the taste of the brute. such is the sophist's wisdom, and such is the condition of those who make public opinion the test of truth, whether in art or in morals. the curse is laid upon them of being and doing what it approves, and when they attempt first principles the failure is ludicrous. think of all this and ask yourself whether the world is more likely to be a believer in the unity of the idea, or in the multiplicity of phenomena. and the world if not a believer {lxxxiii} in the idea cannot be a philosopher, * * and must therefore be a persecutor of philosophers. there is another evil:--the world does not like to lose the gifted nature, and so they flatter the young [alcibiades] into a magnificent opinion of his own capacity; the tall, proper youth begins to expand, and is dreaming of kingdoms and empires. if at this instant a friend whispers to him, 'now the gods lighten thee; thou art a great fool' and must be educated--do you think that he will listen? or suppose a better sort of man who is attracted towards philosophy, will they not make herculean efforts to spoil and corrupt him? * * are we not right in saying that the love of knowledge, no less than riches, may divert him? men of this class [critias] often become politicians--they are the authors of great mischief in states, and sometimes also of great good. and thus philosophy is deserted by her natural protectors, and others enter in and dishonour her. vulgar little minds see the land open and rush from the prisons of the arts into her temple. a clever mechanic having a soul coarse as his body, thinks that he will gain caste by becoming her suitor. for philosophy, even in her fallen estate, has a dignity of her own--and he, like a bald little blacksmith's apprentice as he is, having made some money and got out of durance, washes and dresses himself as a bridegroom and marries his master's daughter. * * what will be the issue of such marriages? will they not be vile and bastard, devoid of truth and nature? 'they will.' small, then, is the remnant of genuine philosophers; there may be a few who are citizens of small states, in which politics are not worth thinking of, or who have been detained by theages' bridle of ill health; for my own case of the oracular sign is almost unique, and too rare to be worth mentioning. and these few when they have tasted the pleasures of philosophy, and have taken a look at that den of thieves and place of wild beasts, which is human life, will stand aside from the storm under the shelter of a wall, and try to preserve their own innocence and to depart in peace. 'a great work, too, will have been accomplished by them.' great, yes, but not the greatest; for man is a social being, and can only attain his highest development in the society which is best suited to him. * * enough, then, of the causes why philosophy has such an evil name. another question is, which of existing states is suited to her? not one of them; at present she is like some exotic seed {lxxxiv} which degenerates in a strange soil; only in her proper state will she be shown to be of heavenly growth. 'and is her proper state ours or some other?' ours in all points but one, which was left undetermined. you may remember our saying that some living mind or witness of the legislator was needed in states. but we were afraid to enter upon a subject of such difficulty, and now the question recurs and has not grown easier:--how may philosophy be safely studied? let us bring her into the light of day, and make an end of the inquiry. in the first place, i say boldly that nothing can be worse than the present mode of study. * * persons usually pick up a little philosophy in early youth, and in the intervals of business, but they never master the real difficulty, which is dialectic. later, perhaps, they occasionally go to a lecture on philosophy. years advance, and the sun of philosophy, unlike that of heracleitus, sets never to rise again. this order of education should be reversed; it should begin with gymnastics in youth, and as the man strengthens, he should increase the gymnastics of his soul. then, when active life is over, let him finally return to philosophy. 'you are in earnest, socrates, but the world will be equally earnest in withstanding you--no more than thrasymachus.' do not make a quarrel between thrasymachus and me, who were never enemies and are now good friends enough. and i shall do my best to convince him and all mankind of the truth of my words, or at any rate to prepare for the future when, in another life, we may again take part in similar discussions. 'that will be a long time hence.' not long in comparison with eternity. the many will probably remain incredulous, for they have never seen the natural unity of ideas, but only artificial juxtapositions; not free and generous thoughts, but tricks of controversy and quips of law;-- * * a perfect man ruling in a perfect state, even a single one they have not known. and we foresaw that there was no chance of perfection either in states or individuals until a necessity was laid upon philosophers--not the rogues, but those whom we called the useless class--of holding office; or until the sons of kings were inspired with a true love of philosophy. whether in the infinity of past time there has been, or is in some distant land, or ever will be hereafter, an ideal such as we have described, we stoutly maintain that there has been, is, and {lxxxv} will be such a state whenever the muse of philosophy rules. * * will you say that the world is of another mind? o, my friend, do not revile the world! they will soon change their opinion if they are gently entreated, and are taught the true nature of the philosopher. who can hate a man who loves him? or be jealous of one who has no jealousy? consider, again, that the many hate not the true but the false philosophers--the pretenders who force their way in without invitation, and are always speaking of persons and not of principles, which is unlike the spirit of philosophy. for the true philosopher despises earthly strife; his eye is fixed on the eternal order in accordance with which he moulds himself into the divine image (and not himself only, but other men), and is the creator of the virtues private as well as public. when mankind see that the happiness of states is only to be found in that image, will they be angry with us for attempting to delineate it? 'certainly not. but what will be the process of delineation?' * * the artist will do nothing until he has made a _tabula rasa_; on this he will inscribe the constitution of a state, glancing often at the divine truth of nature, and from that deriving the godlike among men, mingling the two elements, rubbing out and painting in, until there is a perfect harmony or fusion of the divine and human. but perhaps the world will doubt the existence of such an artist. what will they doubt? that the philosopher is a lover of truth, having a nature akin to the best?--and if they admit this will they still quarrel with us for making philosophers our kings? 'they will be less disposed to quarrel.' * * let us assume then that they are pacified. still, a person may hesitate about the probability of the son of a king being a philosopher. and we do not deny that they are very liable to be corrupted; but yet surely in the course of ages there might be one exception--and one is enough. if one son of a king were a philosopher, and had obedient citizens, he might bring the ideal polity into being. hence we conclude that our laws are not only the best, but that they are also possible, though not free from difficulty. i gained nothing by evading the troublesome questions which arose concerning women and children. i will be wiser now and acknowledge that we must go to the bottom of another question: what is to be the education of our guardians? it was {lxxxvi} agreed that they were to be lovers of their country, * * and were to be tested in the refiner's fire of pleasures and pains, and those who came forth pure and remained fixed in their principles were to have honours and rewards in life and after death. but at this point, the argument put on her veil and turned into another path. i hesitated to make the assertion which i now hazard,--that our guardians must be philosophers. you remember all the contradictory elements, which met in the philosopher--how difficult to find them all in a single person! intelligence and spirit are not often combined with steadiness; the stolid, fearless, nature is averse to intellectual toil. and yet these opposite elements are all necessary, and therefore, as we were saying before, the aspirant must be tested in pleasures and dangers; and also, as we must now further add, * * in the highest branches of knowledge. you will remember, that when we spoke of the virtues mention was made of a longer road, which you were satisfied to leave unexplored. 'enough seemed to have been said.' enough, my friend; but what is enough while anything remains wanting? of all men the guardian must not faint in the search after truth; he must be prepared to take the longer road, or he will never reach that higher region which is above the four virtues; and of the virtues too he must not only get an outline, but a clear and distinct vision. (strange that we should be so precise about trifles, so careless about the highest truths!) 'and what are the highest?' * * you to pretend unconsciousness, when you have so often heard me speak of the idea of good, about which we know so little, and without which though a man gain the world he has no profit of it! some people imagine that the good is wisdom; but this involves a circle,--the good, they say, is wisdom, wisdom has to do with the good. according to others the good is pleasure; but then comes the absurdity that good is bad, for there are bad pleasures as well as good. again, the good must have reality; a man may desire the appearance of virtue, but he will not desire the appearance of good. ought our guardians then to be ignorant of this supreme principle, * * of which every man has a presentiment, and without which no man has any real knowledge of anything? 'but, socrates, what is this supreme principle, knowledge or pleasure, or what? you may think me troublesome, but i say that you have no business to be always {lxxxvii} repeating the doctrines of others instead of giving us your own.' can i say what i do not know? 'you may offer an opinion.' and will the blindness and crookedness of opinion content you when you might have the light and certainty of science? 'i will only ask you to give such an explanation of the good as you have given already of temperance and justice.' i wish that i could, but in my present mood i cannot reach to the height of the knowledge of the good. * * to the parent or principal i cannot introduce you, but to the child begotten in his image, which i may compare with the interest on the principal, i will. (audit the account, and do not let me give you a false statement of the debt.) you remember our old distinction of the many beautiful and the one beautiful, the particular and the universal, the objects of sight and the objects of thought? did you ever consider that the objects of sight imply a faculty of sight which is the most complex and costly of our senses, requiring not only objects of sense, but also a medium, which is light; without which the sight will not distinguish between colours and all will be a blank? * * for light is the noble bond between the perceiving faculty and the thing perceived, and the god who gives us light is the sun, who is the eye of the day, but is not to be confounded with the eye of man. this eye of the day or sun is what i call the child of the good, standing in the same relation to the visible world as the good to the intellectual. when the sun shines the eye sees, and in the intellectual world where truth is, there is sight and light. now that which is the sun of intelligent natures, is the idea of good, the cause of knowledge and truth, yet other and fairer than they are, * * and standing in the same relation to them in which the sun stands to light. o inconceivable height of beauty, which is above knowledge and above truth! ('you cannot surely mean pleasure,' he said. peace, i replied.) and this idea of good, like the sun, is also the cause of growth, and the author not of knowledge only, but of being, yet greater far than either in dignity and power. 'that is a reach of thought more than human; but, pray, go on with the image, for i suspect that there is more behind.' there is, i said; and bearing in mind our two suns or principles, imagine further their corresponding worlds--one of the visible, the other of the intelligible; you may assist your fancy by figuring the distinction under the image {lxxxviii} of a line divided into two unequal parts, and may again subdivide each part into two lesser segments representative of the stages of knowledge in either sphere. the lower portion of the lower or visible sphere will consist of shadows and reflections, * * and its upper and smaller portion will contain real objects in the world of nature or of art. the sphere of the intelligible will also have two divisions,--one of mathematics, in which there is no ascent but all is descent; no inquiring into premises, but only drawing of inferences. in this division the mind works with figures and numbers, the images of which are taken not from the shadows, but from the objects, although the truth of them is seen only with the mind's eye; and they are used as hypotheses without being analysed. * * whereas in the other division reason uses the hypotheses as stages or steps in the ascent to the idea of good, to which she fastens them, and then again descends, walking firmly in the region of ideas, and of ideas only, in her ascent as well as descent, and finally resting in them. 'i partly understand,' he replied; 'you mean that the ideas of science are superior to the hypothetical, metaphorical conceptions of geometry and the other arts or sciences, whichever is to be the name of them; and the latter conceptions you refuse to make subjects of pure intellect, because they have no first principle, although when resting on a first principle, they pass into the higher sphere.' you understand me very well, i said. and now to those four divisions of knowledge you may assign four corresponding faculties--pure intelligence to the highest sphere; active intelligence to the second; to the third, faith; to the fourth, the perception of shadows--and the clearness of the several faculties will be in the same ratio as the truth of the objects to which they are related.... * * * * * [sidenote: _republic vi._ introduction.] like socrates, we may recapitulate the virtues of the philosopher. in language which seems to reach beyond the horizon of that age and country, he is described as 'the spectator of all time and all existence.' he has the noblest gifts of nature, and makes the highest use of them. all his desires are absorbed in the love of wisdom, which is the love of truth. none of the graces of a beautiful soul are wanting in him; neither can he fear death, or think much of human life. the ideal of modern {lxxxix} times hardly retains the simplicity of the antique; there is not the same originality either in truth or error which characterized the greeks. the philosopher is no longer living in the unseen, nor is he sent by an oracle to convince mankind of ignorance; nor does he regard knowledge as a system of ideas leading upwards by regular stages to the idea of good. the eagerness of the pursuit has abated; there is more division of labour and less of comprehensive reflection upon nature and human life as a whole; more of exact observation and less of anticipation and inspiration. still, in the altered conditions of knowledge, the parallel is not wholly lost; and there may be a use in translating the conception of plato into the language of our own age. the philosopher in modern times is one who fixes his mind on the laws of nature in their sequence and connexion, not on fragments or pictures of nature; on history, not on controversy; on the truths which are acknowledged by the few, not on the opinions of the many. he is aware of the importance of 'classifying according to nature,' and will try to 'separate the limbs of science without breaking them' (phaedr. e). there is no part of truth, whether great or small, which he will dishonour; and in the least things he will discern the greatest (parmen. c). like the ancient philosopher he sees the world pervaded by analogies, but he can also tell 'why in some cases a single instance is sufficient for an induction' (mill's logic, , , ), while in other cases a thousand examples would prove nothing. he inquires into a portion of knowledge only, because the whole has grown too vast to be embraced by a single mind or life. he has a clearer conception of the divisions of science and of their relation to the mind of man than was possible to the ancients. like plato, he has a vision of the unity of knowledge, not as the beginning of philosophy to be attained by a study of elementary mathematics, but as the far-off result of the working of many minds in many ages. he is aware that mathematical studies are preliminary to almost every other; at the same time, he will not reduce all varieties of knowledge to the type of mathematics. he too must have a nobility of character, without which genius loses the better half of greatness. regarding the world as a point in immensity, and each individual as a link in a never-ending chain of existence, he will not think much of his own life, or be greatly afraid of death. {xc} adeimantus objects first of all to the form of the socratic reasoning, thus showing that plato is aware of the imperfection of his own method. he brings the accusation against himself which might be brought against him by a modern logician--that he extracts the answer because he knows how to put the question. in a long argument words are apt to change their meaning slightly, or premises may be assumed or conclusions inferred with rather too much certainty or universality; the variation at each step may be unobserved, and yet at last the divergence becomes considerable. hence the failure of attempts to apply arithmetical or algebraic formulae to logic. the imperfection, or rather the higher and more elastic nature of language, does not allow words to have the precision of numbers or of symbols. and this quality in language impairs the force of an argument which has many steps. the objection, though fairly met by socrates in this particular instance, may be regarded as implying a reflection upon the socratic mode of reasoning. and here, as as at p. b, plato seems to intimate that the time had come when the negative and interrogative method of socrates must be superseded by a positive and constructive one, of which examples are given in some of the later dialogues. adeimantus further argues that the ideal is wholly at variance with facts; for experience proves philosophers to be either useless or rogues. contrary to all expectation (cp. p. for a similar surprise) socrates has no hesitation in admitting the truth of this, and explains the anomaly in an allegory, first characteristically depreciating his own inventive powers. in this allegory the people are distinguished from the professional politicians, and, as elsewhere, are spoken of in a tone of pity rather than of censure under the image of 'the noble captain who is not very quick in his perceptions.' the uselessness of philosophers is explained by the circumstance that mankind will not use them. the world in all ages has been divided between contempt and fear of those who employ the power of ideas and know no other weapons. concerning the false philosopher, socrates argues that the best is most liable to corruption; and that the finer nature is more likely to suffer from alien conditions. we too observe that there are some kinds {xci} of excellence which spring from a peculiar delicacy of constitution; as is evidently true of the poetical and imaginative temperament, which often seems to depend on impressions, and hence can only breathe or live in a certain atmosphere. the man of genius has greater pains and greater pleasures, greater powers and greater weaknesses, and often a greater play of character than is to be found in ordinary men. he can assume the disguise of virtue or disinterestedness without having them, or veil personal enmity in the language of patriotism and philosophy,--he can say the word which all men are thinking, he has an insight which is terrible into the follies and weaknesses of his fellow-men. an alcibiades, a mirabeau, or a napoleon the first, are born either to be the authors of great evils in states, or 'of great good, when they are drawn in that direction.' yet the thesis, 'corruptio optimi pessima,' cannot be maintained generally or without regard to the kind of excellence which is corrupted. the alien conditions which are corrupting to one nature, may be the elements of culture to another. in general a man can only receive his highest development in a congenial state or family, among friends or fellow-workers. but also he may sometimes be stirred by adverse circumstances to such a degree that he rises up against them and reforms them. and while weaker or coarser characters will extract good out of evil, say in a corrupt state of the church or of society, and live on happily, allowing the evil to remain, the finer or stronger natures may be crushed or spoiled by surrounding influences--may become misanthrope and philanthrope by turns; or in a few instances, like the founders of the monastic orders, or the reformers, owing to some peculiarity in themselves or in their age, may break away entirely from the world and from the church, sometimes into great good, sometimes into great evil, sometimes into both. and the same holds in the lesser sphere of a convent, a school, a family. plato would have us consider how easily the best natures are overpowered by public opinion, and what efforts the rest of mankind will make to get possession of them. the world, the church, their own profession, any political or party organization, are always carrying them off their legs and teaching them to apply high and holy names to their own prejudices and interests. {xcii} the 'monster' corporation to which they belong judges right and truth to be the pleasure of the community. the individual becomes one with his order; or, if he resists, the world is too much for him, and will sooner or later be revenged on him. this is, perhaps, a one-sided but not wholly untrue picture of the maxims and practice of mankind when they 'sit down together at an assembly,' either in ancient or modern times. when the higher natures are corrupted by politics, the lower take possession of the vacant place of philosophy. this is described in one of those continuous images in which the argument, to use a platonic expression, 'veils herself,' and which is dropped and reappears at intervals. the question is asked,--why are the citizens of states so hostile to philosophy? the answer is, that they do not know her. and yet there is also a better mind of the many; they would believe if they were taught. but hitherto they have only known a conventional imitation of philosophy, words without thoughts, systems which have no life in them; a [divine] person uttering the words of beauty and freedom, the friend of man holding communion with the eternal, and seeking to frame the state in that image, they have never known. the same double feeling respecting the mass of mankind has always existed among men. the first thought is that the people are the enemies of truth and right; the second, that this only arises out of an accidental error and confusion, and that they do not really hate those who love them, if they could be educated to know them. in the latter part of the sixth book, three questions have to be considered: st, the nature of the longer and more circuitous way, which is contrasted with the shorter and more imperfect method of book iv; nd, the heavenly pattern or idea of the state; rd, the relation of the divisions of knowledge to one another and to the corresponding faculties of the soul. . of the higher method of knowledge in plato we have only a glimpse. neither here nor in the phaedrus or symposium, nor yet in the philebus or sophist, does he give any clear explanation of his meaning. he would probably have described his method as proceeding by regular steps to a system of universal knowledge, which inferred the parts from the whole rather than the whole from the parts. this ideal logic is not practised by him {xciii} in the search after justice, or in the analysis of the parts of the soul; there, like aristotle in the nicomachean ethics, he argues from experience and the common use of language. but at the end of the sixth book he conceives another and more perfect method, in which all ideas are only steps or grades or moments of thought, forming a connected whole which is self-supporting, and in which consistency is the test of truth. he does not explain to us in detail the nature of the process. like many other thinkers both in ancient and modern times his mind seems to be filled with a vacant form which he is unable to realize. he supposes the sciences to have a natural order and connexion in an age when they can hardly be said to exist. he is hastening on to the 'end of the intellectual world' without even making a beginning of them. in modern times we hardly need to be reminded that the process of acquiring knowledge is here confused with the contemplation of absolute knowledge. in all science _a priori_ and _a posteriori_ truths mingle in various proportions. the _a priori_ part is that which is derived from the most universal experience of men, or is universally accepted by them; the _a posteriori_ is that which grows up around the more general principles and becomes imperceptibly one with them. but plato erroneously imagines that the synthesis is separable from the analysis, and that the method of science can anticipate science. in entertaining such a vision of _a priori_ knowledge he is sufficiently justified, or at least his meaning may be sufficiently explained by the similar attempts of descartes, kant, hegel, and even of bacon himself, in modern philosophy. anticipations or divinations, or prophetic glimpses of truths whether concerning man or nature, seem to stand in the same relation to ancient philosophy which hypotheses bear to modern inductive science. these 'guesses at truth' were not made at random; they arose from a superficial impression of uniformities and first principles in nature which the genius of the greek, contemplating the expanse of heaven and earth, seemed to recognize in the distance. nor can we deny that in ancient times knowledge must have stood still, and the human mind been deprived of the very instruments of thought, if philosophy had been strictly confined to the results of experience. {xciv} . plato supposes that when the tablet has been made blank the artist will fill in the lineaments of the ideal state. is this a pattern laid up in heaven, or mere vacancy on which he is supposed to gaze with wondering eye? the answer is, that such ideals are framed partly by the omission of particulars, partly by imagination perfecting the form which experience supplies (phaedo, ). plato represents these ideals in a figure as belonging to another world; and in modern times the idea will sometimes seem to precede, at other times to co-operate with the hand of the artist. as in science, so also in creative art, there is a synthetical as well as an analytical method. one man will have the whole in his mind before he begins; to another the processes of mind and hand will be simultaneous. . there is no difficulty in seeing that plato's divisions of knowledge are based, first, on the fundamental antithesis of sensible and intellectual which pervades the whole pre-socratic philosophy; in which is implied also the opposition of the permanent and transient, of the universal and particular. but the age of philosophy in which he lived seemed to require a further distinction;--numbers and figures were beginning to separate from ideas. the world could no longer regard justice as a cube, and was learning to see, though imperfectly, that the abstractions of sense were distinct from the abstractions of mind. between the eleatic being or essence and the shadows of phenomena, the pythagorean principle of number found a place, and was, as aristotle remarks, a conducting medium from one to the other. hence plato is led to introduce a third term which had not hitherto entered into the scheme of his philosophy. he had observed the use of mathematics in education; they were the best preparation for higher studies. the subjective relation between them further suggested an objective one; although the passage from one to the other is really imaginary (metaph. , , ). for metaphysical and moral philosophy has no connexion with mathematics; number and figure are the abstractions of time and space, not the expressions of purely intellectual conceptions. when divested of metaphor, a straight line or a square has no more to do with right and justice than a crooked line with vice. the figurative association was mistaken for a real one; and thus the three latter divisions of the platonic proportion were constructed. {xcv} there is more difficulty in comprehending how he arrived at the first term of the series, which is nowhere else mentioned, and has no reference to any other part of his system. nor indeed does the relation of shadows to objects correspond to the relation of numbers to ideas. probably plato has been led by the love of analogy (timaeus, p. b) to make four terms instead of three, although the objects perceived in both divisions of the lower sphere are equally objects of sense. he is also preparing the way, as his manner is, for the shadows of images at the beginning of the seventh book, and the imitation of an imitation in the tenth. the line may be regarded as reaching from unity to infinity, and is divided into two unequal parts, and subdivided into two more; each lower sphere is the multiplication of the preceding. of the four faculties, faith in the lower division has an intermediate position (cp. for the use of the word faith or belief, [greek: pi/stis], timaeus, c, b), contrasting equally with the vagueness of the perception of shadows ([greek: ei)kasi/a]) and the higher certainty of understanding ([greek: dia/noia]) and reason ([greek: nou=s]). the difference between understanding and mind or reason ([greek: nou=s]) is analogous to the difference between acquiring knowledge in the parts and the contemplation of the whole. true knowledge is a whole, and is at rest; consistency and universality are the tests of truth. to this self-evidencing knowledge of the whole the faculty of mind is supposed to correspond. but there is a knowledge of the understanding which is incomplete and in motion always, because unable to rest in the subordinate ideas. those ideas are called both images and hypotheses--images because they are clothed in sense, hypotheses because they are assumptions only, until they are brought into connexion with the idea of good. the general meaning of the passage - , so far as the thought contained in it admits of being translated into the terms of modern philosophy, may be described or explained as follows:--there is a truth, one and self-existent, to which by the help of a ladder let down from above, the human intelligence may ascend. this unity is like the sun in the heavens, the light by which all things are seen, the being by which they are created and sustained. it is the _idea_ of good. and the steps of the ladder leading up to this highest or universal existence are the mathematical {xcvi} sciences, which also contain in themselves an element of the universal. these, too, we see in a new manner when we connect them with the idea of good. they then cease to be hypotheses or pictures, and become essential parts of a higher truth which is at once their first principle and their final cause. we cannot give any more precise meaning to this remarkable passage, but we may trace in it several rudiments or vestiges of thought which are common to us and to plato: such as ( ) the unity and correlation of the sciences, or rather of science, for in plato's time they were not yet parted off or distinguished; ( ) the existence of a divine power, or life or idea or cause or reason, not yet conceived or no longer conceived as in the timaeus and elsewhere under the form of a person; ( ) the recognition of the hypothetical and conditional character of the mathematical sciences, and in a measure of every science when isolated from the rest; ( ) the conviction of a truth which is invisible, and of a law, though hardly a law of nature, which permeates the intellectual rather than the visible world. the method of socrates is hesitating and tentative, awaiting the fuller explanation of the idea of good, and of the nature of dialectic in the seventh book. the imperfect intelligence of glaucon, and the reluctance of socrates to make a beginning, mark the difficulty of the subject. the allusion to theages' bridle, and to the internal oracle, or demonic sign, of socrates, which here, as always in plato, is only prohibitory; the remark that the salvation of any remnant of good in the present evil state of the world is due to god only; the reference to a future state of existence, d, which is unknown to glaucon in the tenth book, d, and in which the discussions of socrates and his disciples would be resumed; the surprise in the answers at e and b; the fanciful irony of socrates, where he pretends that he can only describe the strange position of the philosopher in a figure of speech; the original observation that the sophists, after all, are only the representatives and not the leaders of public opinion; the picture of the philosopher standing aside in the shower of sleet under a wall; the figure of 'the great beast' followed by the expression of good-will towards the common people who would not have rejected the philosopher if they had known him; the 'right noble thought' that the highest {xcvii} truths demand the greatest exactness; the hesitation of socrates in returning once more to his well-worn theme of the idea of good; the ludicrous earnestness of glaucon; the comparison of philosophy to a deserted maiden who marries beneath her--are some of the most interesting characteristics of the sixth book. yet a few more words may be added, on the old theme, which was so oft discussed in the socratic circle, of which we, like glaucon and adeimantus, would fain, if possible, have a clearer notion. like them, we are dissatisfied when we are told that the idea of good can only be revealed to a student of the mathematical sciences, and we are inclined to think that neither we nor they could have been led along that path to any satisfactory goal. for we have learned that differences of quantity cannot pass into differences of quality, and that the mathematical sciences can never rise above themselves into the sphere of our higher thoughts, although they may sometimes furnish symbols and expressions of them, and may train the mind in habits of abstraction and self-concentration. the illusion which was natural to an ancient philosopher has ceased to be an illusion to us. but if the process by which we are supposed to arrive at the idea of good be really imaginary, may not the idea itself be also a mere abstraction? we remark, first, that in all ages, and especially in primitive philosophy, words such as being, essence, unity, good, have exerted an extraordinary influence over the minds of men. the meagreness or negativeness of their content has been in an inverse ratio to their power. they have become the forms under which all things were comprehended. there was a need or instinct in the human soul which they satisfied; they were not ideas, but gods, and to this new mythology the men of a later generation began to attach the powers and associations of the elder deities. the idea of good is one of those sacred words or forms of thought, which were beginning to take the place of the old mythology. it meant unity, in which all time and all existence were gathered up. it was the truth of all things, and also the light in which they shone forth, and became evident to intelligences human and divine. it was the cause of all things, the power by which they were brought into being. it was the universal reason divested of a human personality. it was the life as well as the {xcviii} light of the world, all knowledge and all power were comprehended in it. the way to it was through the mathematical sciences, and these too were dependent on it. to ask whether god was the maker of it, or made by it, would be like asking whether god could be conceived apart from goodness, or goodness apart from god. the god of the timaeus is not really at variance with the idea of good; they are aspects of the same, differing only as the personal from the impersonal, or the masculine from the neuter, the one being the expression or language of mythology, the other of philosophy. this, or something like this, is the meaning of the idea of good as conceived by plato. ideas of number, order, harmony, development may also be said to enter into it. the paraphrase which has just been given of it goes beyond the actual words of plato. we have perhaps arrived at the stage of philosophy which enables us to understand what he is aiming at, better than he did himself. we are beginning to realize what he saw darkly and at a distance. but if he could have been told that this, or some conception of the same kind, but higher than this, was the truth at which he was aiming, and the need which he sought to supply, he would gladly have recognized that more was contained in his own thoughts than he himself knew. as his words are few and his manner reticent and tentative, so must the style of his interpreter be. we should not approach his meaning more nearly by attempting to define it further. in translating him into the language of modern thought, we might insensibly lose the spirit of ancient philosophy. it is remarkable that although plato speaks of the idea of good as the first principle of truth and being, it is nowhere mentioned in his writings except in this passage. nor did it retain any hold upon the minds of his disciples in a later generation; it was probably unintelligible to them. nor does the mention of it in aristotle appear to have any reference to this or any other passage in his extant writings. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic vii._ analysis.] book vii. * * and now i will describe in a figure the enlightenment or unenlightenment of our nature:--imagine human beings living in an underground den which is open towards the light; they have been there from childhood, having their necks and legs chained, and can only see into the den. {xcix} at a distance there is a fire, and between the fire and the prisoners a raised way, and a low wall is built along the way, like the screen over which marionette players show their puppets. * * behind the wall appear moving figures, who hold in their hands various works of art, and among them images of men and animals, wood and stone, and some of the passers-by are talking and others silent. 'a strange parable,' he said, 'and strange captives.' they are ourselves, i replied; and they see only the shadows of the images which the fire throws on the wall of the den; to these they give names, and if we add an echo which returns from the wall, the voices of the passengers will seem to proceed from the shadows. suppose now that you suddenly turn them round and make them look with pain and grief to themselves at the real images; will they believe them to be real? will not their eyes be dazzled, and will they not try to get away from the light to something which they are able to behold without blinking? * * and suppose further, that they are dragged up a steep and rugged ascent into the presence of the sun himself, will not their sight be darkened with the excess of light? some time will pass before they get the habit of perceiving at all; and at first they will be able to perceive only shadows and reflections in the water; then they will recognize the moon and the stars, and will at length behold the sun in his own proper place as he is. last of all they will conclude:--this is he who gives us the year and the seasons, and is the author of all that we see. how will they rejoice in passing from darkness to light! how worthless to them will seem the honours and glories of the den! but now imagine further, that they descend into their old habitations;--in that underground dwelling they will not see as well as their fellows, * * and will not be able to compete with them in the measurement of the shadows on the wall; there will be many jokes about the man who went on a visit to the sun and lost his eyes, and if they find anybody trying to set free and enlighten one of their number, they will put him to death, if they can catch him. now the cave or den is the world of sight, the fire is the sun, the way upwards is the way to knowledge, and in the world of knowledge the idea of good is last seen and with difficulty, but when seen is inferred to be the author of good and right--parent of the lord of light in this world, and of truth and understanding in the other. {c} he who attains to the beatific vision is always going upwards; he is unwilling to descend into political assemblies and courts of law; for his eyes are apt to blink at the images or shadows of images which they behold in them--he cannot enter into the ideas of those who have never in their lives understood the relation of the shadow to the substance. * * but blindness is of two kinds, and may be caused either by passing out of darkness into light or out of light into darkness, and a man of sense will distinguish between them, and will not laugh equally at both of them, but the blindness which arises from fulness of light he will deem blessed, and pity the other; or if he laugh at the puzzled soul looking at the sun, he will have more reason to laugh than the inhabitants of the den at those who descend from above. there is a further lesson taught by this parable of ours. some persons fancy that instruction is like giving eyes to the blind, but we say that the faculty of sight was always there, and that the soul only requires to be turned round towards the light. and this is conversion; other virtues are almost like bodily habits, and may be acquired in the same manner, but intelligence has a diviner life, and is indestructible, turning either to good or evil according to the direction given. * * did you never observe how the mind of a clever rogue peers out of his eyes, and the more clearly he sees, the more evil he does? now if you take such an one, and cut away from him those leaden weights of pleasure and desire which bind his soul to earth, his intelligence will be turned round, and he will behold the truth as clearly as he now discerns his meaner ends. and have we not decided that our rulers must neither be so uneducated as to have no fixed rule of life, nor so over-educated as to be unwilling to leave their paradise for the business of the world? we must choose out therefore the natures who are most likely to ascend to the light and knowledge of the good; but we must not allow them to remain in the region of light; they must be forced down again among the captives in the den to partake of their labours and honours. 'will they not think this a hardship?' you should remember that our purpose in framing the state was not that our citizens should do what they like, but that they should serve the state for the common good of all. * * may we not fairly say to our philosopher,--friend, we do you no wrong; for in other {ci} states philosophy grows wild, and a wild plant owes nothing to the gardener, but you have been trained by us to be the rulers and kings of our hive, and therefore we must insist on your descending into the den. you must, each of you, take your turn, and become able to use your eyes in the dark, and with a little practice you will see far better than those who quarrel about the shadows, whose knowledge is a dream only, whilst yours is a waking reality. it may be that the saint or philosopher who is best fitted, may also be the least inclined to rule, but necessity is laid upon him, and he must no longer live in the heaven of ideas. * * and this will be the salvation of the state. for those who rule must not be those who are desirous to rule; and, if you can offer to our citizens a better life than that of rulers generally is, there will be a chance that the rich, not only in this world's goods, but in virtue and wisdom, may bear rule. and the only life which is better than the life of political ambition is that of philosophy, which is also the best preparation for the government of a state. then now comes the question,--how shall we create our rulers; what way is there from darkness to light? the change is effected by philosophy; it is not the turning over of an oyster-shell, but the conversion of a soul from night to day, from becoming to being. and what training will draw the soul upwards? our former education had two branches, gymnastic, which was occupied with the body, and music, the sister art, which infused * * a natural harmony into mind and literature; but neither of these sciences gave any promise of doing what we want. nothing remains to us but that universal or primary science of which all the arts and sciences are partakers, i mean number or calculation. 'very true.' including the art of war? 'yes, certainly.' then there is something ludicrous about palamedes in the tragedy, coming in and saying that he had invented number, and had counted the ranks and set them in order. for if agamemnon could not count his feet (and without number how could he?) he must have been a pretty sort of general indeed. no man should be a soldier who cannot count, and indeed he is hardly to be called a man. but i am not speaking of these practical applications of arithmetic, * * for number, in my view, is rather to be regarded as a conductor to thought and being. i will explain {cii} what i mean by the last expression:--things sensible are of two kinds; the one class invite or stimulate the mind, while in the other the mind acquiesces. now the stimulating class are the things which suggest contrast and relation. for example, suppose that i hold up to the eyes three fingers--a fore finger, a middle finger, a little finger--the sight equally recognizes all three fingers, but without number cannot further distinguish them. or again, suppose two objects to be relatively great and small, these ideas of greatness and smallness are supplied not by the sense, but by the mind. * * and the perception of their contrast or relation quickens and sets in motion the mind, which is puzzled by the confused intimations of sense, and has recourse to number in order to find out whether the things indicated are one or more than one. number replies that they are two and not one, and are to be distinguished from one another. again, the sight beholds great and small, but only in a confused chaos, and not until they are distinguished does the question arise of their respective natures; we are thus led on to the distinction between the visible and intelligible. that was what i meant when i spoke of stimulants to the intellect; i was thinking of the contradictions which arise in perception. the idea of unity, for example, like that of a finger, does not arouse thought unless involving some conception of plurality; * * but when the one is also the opposite of one, the contradiction gives rise to reflection; an example of this is afforded by any object of sight. all number has also an elevating effect; it raises the mind out of the foam and flux of generation to the contemplation of being, having lesser military and retail uses also. the retail use is not required by us; but as our guardian is to be a soldier as well as a philosopher, the military one may be retained. and to our higher purpose no science can be better adapted; but it must be pursued in the spirit of a philosopher, not of a shopkeeper. it is concerned, not with visible objects, but with abstract truth; for numbers are pure abstractions--the true arithmetician indignantly denies that his unit is capable of division. * * when you divide, he insists that you are only multiplying; his 'one' is not material or resolvable into fractions, but an unvarying and absolute equality; and this proves the purely intellectual character of his study. note also the great power which arithmetic has of sharpening the wits; no other discipline is equally {ciii} severe, or an equal test of general ability, or equally improving to a stupid person. let our second branch of education be geometry. 'i can easily see,' replied glaucon, 'that the skill of the general will be doubled by his knowledge of geometry.' that is a small matter; the use of geometry, to which i refer, is the assistance given by it in the contemplation of the idea of good, and the compelling the mind to look at true being, and not at generation only. yet the present mode of pursuing these studies, as any one who is the least of a mathematician is aware, is mean and ridiculous; they are made to look downwards to the arts, and not upwards to eternal existence. * * the geometer is always talking of squaring, subtending, apposing, as if he had in view action; whereas knowledge is the real object of the study. it should elevate the soul, and create the mind of philosophy; it should raise up what has fallen down, not to speak of lesser uses in war and military tactics, and in the improvement of the faculties. shall we propose, as a third branch of our education, astronomy? 'very good,' replied glaucon; 'the knowledge of the heavens is necessary at once for husbandry, navigation, military tactics.' i like your way of giving useful reasons for everything in order to make friends of the world. and there is a difficulty in proving to mankind that education is not only useful information but a purification of the eye of the soul, which is better than the bodily eye, for by this alone is truth seen. * * now, will you appeal to mankind in general or to the philosopher? or would you prefer to look to yourself only? 'every man is his own best friend.' then take a step backward, for we are out of order, and insert the third dimension which is of solids, after the second which is of planes, and then you may proceed to solids in motion. but solid geometry is not popular and has not the patronage of the state, nor is the use of it fully recognized; the difficulty is great, and the votaries of the study are conceited and impatient. still the charm of the pursuit wins upon men, and, if government would lend a little assistance, there might be great progress made. 'very true,' replied glaucon; 'but do i understand you now to begin with plane geometry, and to place next geometry of solids, and thirdly, astronomy, or the motion of solids?' yes, i said; my hastiness has only hindered us. {civ} 'very good, and now let us proceed to astronomy, about which i am willing to speak in your lofty strain. * * no one can fail to see that the contemplation of the heavens draws the soul upwards.' i am an exception, then; astronomy as studied at present appears to me to draw the soul not upwards, but downwards. star-gazing is just looking up at the ceiling--no better; a man may lie on his back on land or on water--he may look up or look down, but there is no science in that. the vision of knowledge of which i speak is seen not with the eyes, but with the mind. all the magnificence of the heavens is but the embroidery of a copy which falls far short of the divine original, and teaches nothing about the absolute harmonies or motions of things. their beauty is like the beauty of figures drawn by the hand of daedalus or any other great artist, which may be used for illustration, * * but no mathematician would seek to obtain from them true conceptions of equality or numerical relations. how ridiculous then to look for these in the map of the heavens, in which the imperfection of matter comes in everywhere as a disturbing element, marring the symmetry of day and night, of months and years, of the sun and stars in their courses. only by problems can we place astronomy on a truly scientific basis. let the heavens alone, and exert the intellect. still, mathematics admit of other applications, as the pythagoreans say, and we agree. there is a sister science of harmonical motion, adapted to the ear as astronomy is to the eye, and there may be other applications also. let us inquire of the pythagoreans about them, not forgetting that we have an aim higher than theirs, which is the relation of these sciences to the idea of good. the error which pervades astronomy also pervades harmonics. * * the musicians put their ears in the place of their minds. 'yes,' replied glaucon, 'i like to see them laying their ears alongside of their neighbours' faces--some saying, "that's a new note," others declaring that the two notes are the same.' yes, i said; but you mean the empirics who are always twisting and torturing the strings of the lyre, and quarrelling about the tempers of the strings; i am referring rather to the pythagorean harmonists, who are almost equally in error. for they investigate only the numbers of the consonances which are heard, and ascend no higher,--of the true numerical harmony which is unheard, and is only to be found in problems, they have not even a conception. {cv} 'that last,' he said, 'must be a marvellous thing.' a thing, i replied, which is only useful if pursued with a view to the good. all these sciences are the prelude of the strain, and are profitable if they are regarded in their natural relations to one another. 'i dare say, socrates,' said glaucon; 'but such a study will be an endless business.' what study do you mean--of the prelude, or what? for all these things are only the prelude, and you surely do not suppose that a mere mathematician is also a dialectician? 'certainly not. * * i have hardly ever known a mathematician who could reason.' and yet, glaucon, is not true reasoning that hymn of dialectic which is the music of the intellectual world, and which was by us compared to the effort of sight, when from beholding the shadows on the wall we arrived at last at the images which gave the shadows? even so the dialectical faculty withdrawing from sense arrives by the pure intellect at the contemplation of the idea of good, and never rests but at the very end of the intellectual world. and the royal road out of the cave into the light, and the blinking of the eyes at the sun and turning to contemplate the shadows of reality, not the shadows of an image only--this progress and gradual acquisition of a new faculty of sight by the help of the mathematical sciences, is the elevation of the soul to the contemplation of the highest ideal of being. 'so far, i agree with you. but now, leaving the prelude, let us proceed to the hymn. what, then, is the nature of dialectic, and what are the paths which lead thither?' * * dear glaucon, you cannot follow me here. there can be no revelation of the absolute truth to one who has not been disciplined in the previous sciences. but that there is a science of absolute truth, which is attained in some way very different from those now practised, i am confident. for all other arts or sciences are relative to human needs and opinions; and the mathematical sciences are but a dream or hypothesis of true being, and never analyse their own principles. dialectic alone rises to the principle which is above hypotheses, converting and gently leading the eye of the soul out of the barbarous slough of ignorance into the light of the upper world, with the help of the sciences which we have been describing--sciences, as they are often termed, although they require some other name, implying greater clearness than opinion and less clearness than science, and this in our previous sketch {cvi} was understanding. and so we get four names--two for intellect, and two for opinion,--reason or mind, understanding, faith, perception of shadows-- * * which make a proportion--being : becoming :: intellect : opinion--and science : belief :: understanding: perception of shadows. dialectic may be further described as that science which defines and explains the essence or being of each nature, which distinguishes and abstracts the good, and is ready to do battle against all opponents in the cause of good. to him who is not a dialectician life is but a sleepy dream; and many a man is in his grave before his is well waked up. and would you have the future rulers of your ideal state intelligent beings, or stupid as posts? 'certainly not the latter.' then you must train them in dialectic, which will teach them to ask and answer questions, and is the coping-stone of the sciences. * * i dare say that you have not forgotten how our rulers were chosen; and the process of selection may be carried a step further:--as before, they must be constant and valiant, good-looking, and of noble manners, but now they must also have natural ability which education will improve; that is to say, they must be quick at learning, capable of mental toil, retentive, solid, diligent natures, who combine intellectual with moral virtues; not lame and one-sided, diligent in bodily exercise and indolent in mind, or conversely; not a maimed soul, which hates falsehood and yet * * unintentionally is always wallowing in the mire of ignorance; not a bastard or feeble person, but sound in wind and limb, and in perfect condition for the great gymnastic trial of the mind. justice herself can find no fault with natures such as these; and they will be the saviours of our state; disciples of another sort would only make philosophy more ridiculous than she is at present. forgive my enthusiasm; i am becoming excited; but when i see her trampled underfoot, i am angry at the authors of her disgrace. 'i did not notice that you were more excited than you ought to have been.' but i felt that i was. now do not let us forget another point in the selection of our disciples--that they must be young and not old. for solon is mistaken in saying that an old man can be always learning; youth is the time of study, and here we must remember that the mind is free and dainty, and, unlike the body, must not be made to work against the grain. * * learning should be at first a sort of play, in which the natural bent is {cvii} detected. as in training them for war, the young dogs should at first only taste blood; but when the necessary gymnastics are over which during two or three years divide life between sleep and bodily exercise, then the education of the soul will become a more serious matter. at twenty years of age, a selection must be made of the more promising disciples, with whom a new epoch of education will begin. the sciences which they have hitherto learned in fragments will now be brought into relation with each other and with true being; for the power of combining them is the test of speculative and dialectical ability. and afterwards at thirty a further selection shall be made of those who are able to withdraw from the world of sense into the abstraction of ideas. but at this point, judging from present experience, there is a danger that dialectic may be the source of many evils. the danger may be illustrated by a parallel case:--imagine a person who has been brought up in wealth and luxury amid a crowd of flatterers, and who is suddenly informed that he is a supposititious son. * * he has hitherto honoured his reputed parents and disregarded the flatterers, and now he does the reverse. this is just what happens with a man's principles. there are certain doctrines which he learnt at home and which exercised a parental authority over him. presently he finds that imputations are cast upon them; a troublesome querist comes and asks, 'what is the just and good?' or proves that virtue is vice and vice virtue, and his mind becomes unsettled, and he ceases to love, honour, and obey them as he has hitherto done. * * he is seduced into the life of pleasure, and becomes a lawless person and a rogue. the case of such speculators is very pitiable, and, in order that our thirty years' old pupils may not require this pity, let us take every possible care that young persons do not study philosophy too early. for a young man is a sort of puppy who only plays with an argument; and is reasoned into and out of his opinions every day; he soon begins to believe nothing, and brings himself and philosophy into discredit. a man of thirty does not run on in this way; he will argue and not merely contradict, and adds new honour to philosophy by the sobriety of his conduct. what time shall we allow for this second gymnastic training of the soul?--say, twice the time required for the gymnastics of the body; six, or perhaps five years, to commence at thirty, and then for fifteen {cviii} years let the student go down into the den, and command armies, and gain experience of life. * * at fifty let him return to the end of all things, and have his eyes uplifted to the idea of good, and order his life after that pattern; if necessary, taking his turn at the helm of state, and training up others to be his successors. when his time comes he shall depart in peace to the islands of the blest. he shall be honoured with sacrifices, and receive such worship as the pythian oracle approves. 'you are a statuary, socrates, and have made a perfect image of our governors.' yes, and of our governesses, for the women will share in all things with the men. and you will admit that our state is not a mere aspiration, but may really come into being when there shall arise philosopher-kings, one or more, who will despise earthly vanities, and will be the servants of justice only. 'and how will they begin their work?' * * their first act will be to send away into the country all those who are more than ten years of age, and to proceed with those who are left.... * * * * * [sidenote: _republic vii._ introduction.] at the commencement of the sixth book, plato anticipated his explanation of the relation of the philosopher to the world in an allegory, in this, as in other passages, following the order which he prescribes in education, and proceeding from the concrete to the abstract. at the commencement of book vii, under the figure of a cave having an opening towards a fire and a way upwards to the true light, he returns to view the divisions of knowledge, exhibiting familiarly, as in a picture, the result which had been hardly won by a great effort of thought in the previous discussion; at the same time casting a glance onward at the dialectical process, which is represented by the way leading from darkness to light. the shadows, the images, the reflection of the sun and stars in the water, the stars and sun themselves, severally correspond,--the first, to the realm of fancy and poetry,--the second, to the world of sense,--the third, to the abstractions or universals of sense, of which the mathematical sciences furnish the type,--the fourth and last to the same abstractions, when seen in the unity of the idea, from which they derive a new meaning and power. the true dialectical process begins with the contemplation of the real stars, and not mere reflections of them, {cix} and ends with the recognition of the sun, or idea of good, as the parent not only of light but of warmth and growth. to the divisions of knowledge the stages of education partly answer:--first, there is the early education of childhood and youth in the fancies of the poets, and in the laws and customs of the state;--then there is the training of the body to be a warrior athlete, and a good servant of the mind;--and thirdly, after an interval follows the education of later life, which begins with mathematics and proceeds to philosophy in general. there seem to be two great aims in the philosophy of plato,--first, to realize abstractions; secondly, to connect them. according to him, the true education is that which draws men from becoming to being, and to a comprehensive survey of all being. he desires to develop in the human mind the faculty of seeing the universal in all things; until at last the particulars of sense drop away and the universal alone remains. he then seeks to combine the universals which he has disengaged from sense, not perceiving that the correlation of them has no other basis but the common use of language. he never understands that abstractions, as hegel says, are 'mere abstractions'--of use when employed in the arrangement of facts, but adding nothing to the sum of knowledge when pursued apart from them, or with reference to an imaginary idea of good. still the exercise of the faculty of abstraction apart from facts has enlarged the mind, and played a great part in the education of the human race. plato appreciated the value of this faculty, and saw that it might be quickened by the study of number and relation. all things in which there is opposition or proportion are suggestive of reflection. the mere impression of sense evokes no power of thought or of mind, but when sensible objects ask to be compared and distinguished, then philosophy begins. the science of arithmetic first suggests such distinctions. there follow in order the other sciences of plain and solid geometry, and of solids in motion, one branch of which is astronomy or the harmony of the spheres,--to this is appended the sister science of the harmony of sounds. plato seems also to hint at the possibility of other applications of arithmetical or mathematical proportions, such as we employ in chemistry and natural philosophy, such as the pythagoreans and even aristotle make use of in ethics {cx} and politics, e.g. his distinction between arithmetical and geometrical proportion in the ethics (book v), or between numerical and proportional equality in the politics (iii. , iv. , &c.). the modern mathematician will readily sympathise with plato's delight in the properties of pure mathematics. he will not be disinclined to say with him:--let alone the heavens, and study the beauties of number and figure in themselves. he too will be apt to depreciate their application to the arts. he will observe that plato has a conception of geometry, in which figures are to be dispensed with; thus in a distant and shadowy way seeming to anticipate the possibility of working geometrical problems by a more general mode of analysis. he will remark with interest on the backward state of solid geometry, which, alas! was not encouraged by the aid of the state in the age of plato; and he will recognize the grasp of plato's mind in his ability to conceive of one science of solids in motion including the earth as well as the heavens,--not forgetting to notice the intimation to which allusion has been already made, that besides astronomy and harmonics the science of solids in motion may have other applications. still more will he be struck with the comprehensiveness of view which led plato, at a time when these sciences hardly existed, to say that they must be studied in relation to one another, and to the idea of good, or common principle of truth and being. but he will also see (and perhaps without surprise) that in that stage of physical and mathematical knowledge, plato has fallen into the error of supposing that he can construct the heavens _a priori_ by mathematical problems, and determine the principles of harmony irrespective of the adaptation of sounds to the human ear. the illusion was a natural one in that age and country. the simplicity and certainty of astronomy and harmonics seemed to contrast with the variation and complexity of the world of sense; hence the circumstance that there was some elementary basis of fact, some measurement of distance or time or vibrations on which they must ultimately rest, was overlooked by him. the modern predecessors of newton fell into errors equally great; and plato can hardly be said to have been very far wrong, or may even claim a sort of prophetic insight into the subject, when we consider that the greater part of astronomy at the present day consists of abstract dynamics, {cxi} by the help of which most astronomical discoveries have been made. the metaphysical philosopher from his point of view recognizes mathematics as an instrument of education,--which strengthens the power of attention, developes the sense of order and the faculty of construction, and enables the mind to grasp under simple formulae the quantitative differences of physical phenomena. but while acknowledging their value in education, he sees also that they have no connexion with our higher moral and intellectual ideas. in the attempt which plato makes to connect them, we easily trace the influences of ancient pythagorean notions. there is no reason to suppose that he is speaking of the ideal numbers at p. e; but he is describing numbers which are pure abstractions, to which he assigns a real and separate existence, which, as 'the teachers of the art' (meaning probably the pythagoreans) would have affirmed, repel all attempts at subdivision, and in which unity and every other number are conceived of as absolute. the truth and certainty of numbers, when thus disengaged from phenomena, gave them a kind of sacredness in the eyes of an ancient philosopher. nor is it easy to say how far ideas of order and fixedness may have had a moral and elevating influence on the minds of men, 'who,' in the words of the timaeus, 'might learn to regulate their erring lives according to them' ( c). it is worthy of remark that the old pythagorean ethical symbols still exist as figures of speech among ourselves. and those who in modern times see the world pervaded by universal law, may also see an anticipation of this last word of modern philosophy in the platonic idea of good, which is the source and measure of all things, and yet only an abstraction. (cp. philebus sub fin.). two passages seem to require more particular explanations. first, that which relates to the analysis of vision. the difficulty in this passage may be explained, like many others, from differences in the modes of conception prevailing among ancient and modern thinkers. to us, the perceptions of sense are inseparable from the act of the mind which accompanies them. the consciousness of form, colour, distance, is indistinguishable from the simple sensation, which is the medium of them. whereas to plato sense is the heraclitean flux of sense, not {cxii} the vision of objects in the order in which they actually present themselves to the experienced sight, but as they may be imagined to appear confused and blurred to the half-awakened eye of the infant. the first action of the mind is aroused by the attempt to set in order this chaos, and the reason is required to frame distinct conceptions under which the confused impressions of sense may be arranged. hence arises the question, 'what is great, what is small?' and thus begins the distinction of the visible and the intelligible. the second difficulty relates to plato's conception of harmonics. three classes of harmonists are distinguished by him:--first, the pythagoreans, whom he proposes to consult as in the previous discussion on music he was to consult damon--they are acknowledged to be masters in the art, but are altogether deficient in the knowledge of its higher import and relation to the good; secondly, the mere empirics, whom glaucon appears to confuse with them, and whom both he and socrates ludicrously describe as experimenting by mere auscultation on the intervals of sounds. both of these fall short in different degrees of the platonic idea of harmony, which must be studied in a purely abstract way, first by the method of problems, and secondly as a part of universal knowledge in relation to the idea of good. the allegory has a political as well as a philosophical meaning. the den or cave represents the narrow sphere of politics or law (cp. the description of the philosopher and lawyer in the theaetetus, - ), and the light of the eternal ideas is supposed to exercise a disturbing influence on the minds of those who return to this lower world. in other words, their principles are too wide for practical application; they are looking far away into the past and future, when their business is with the present. the ideal is not easily reduced to the conditions of actual life, and may often be at variance with them. and at first, those who return are unable to compete with the inhabitants of the den in the measurement of the shadows, and are derided and persecuted by them; but after a while they see the things below in far truer proportions than those who have never ascended into the upper world. the difference between the politician turned into a philosopher and the philosopher turned into a politician, is symbolized by the two kinds of disordered eyesight, {cxiii} the one which is experienced by the captive who is transferred from darkness to day, the other, of the heavenly messenger who voluntarily for the good of his fellow-men descends into the den. in what way the brighter light is to dawn on the inhabitants of the lower world, or how the idea of good is to become the guiding principle of politics, is left unexplained by plato. like the nature and divisions of dialectic, of which glaucon impatiently demands to be informed, perhaps he would have said that the explanation could not be given except to a disciple of the previous sciences. (compare symposium a.) many illustrations of this part of the republic may be found in modern politics and in daily life. for among ourselves, too, there have been two sorts of politicians or statesmen, whose eyesight has become disordered in two different ways. first, there have been great men who, in the language of burke, 'have been too much given to general maxims,' who, like j. s. mill or burke himself, have been theorists or philosophers before they were politicians, or who, having been students of history, have allowed some great historical parallel, such as the english revolution of , or possibly athenian democracy or roman imperialism, to be the medium through which they viewed contemporary events. or perhaps the long projecting shadow of some existing institution may have darkened their vision. the church of the future, the commonwealth of the future, the society of the future, have so absorbed their minds, that they are unable to see in their true proportions the politics of to-day. they have been intoxicated with great ideas, such as liberty, or equality, or the greatest happiness of the greatest number, or the brotherhood of humanity, and they no longer care to consider how these ideas must be limited in practice or harmonized with the conditions of human life. they are full of light, but the light to them has become only a sort of luminous mist or blindness. almost every one has known some enthusiastic half-educated person, who sees everything at false distances, and in erroneous proportions. with this disorder of eyesight may be contrasted another--of those who see not far into the distance, but what is near only; who have been engaged all their lives in a trade or a profession; who are limited to a set or sect of their own. men of this kind {cxiv} have no universal except their own interests or the interests of their class, no principle but the opinion of persons like themselves, no knowledge of affairs beyond what they pick up in the streets or at their club. suppose them to be sent into a larger world, to undertake some higher calling, from being tradesmen to turn generals or politicians, from being schoolmasters to become philosophers:--or imagine them on a sudden to receive an inward light which reveals to them for the first time in their lives a higher idea of god and the existence of a spiritual world, by this sudden conversion or change is not their daily life likely to be upset; and on the other hand will not many of their old prejudices and narrownesses still adhere to them long after they have begun to take a more comprehensive view of human things? from familiar examples like these we may learn what plato meant by the eyesight which is liable to two kinds of disorders. nor have we any difficulty in drawing a parallel between the young athenian in the fifth century before christ who became unsettled by new ideas, and the student of a modern university who has been the subject of a similar 'aufklärung.' we too observe that when young men begin to criticise customary beliefs, or to analyse the constitution of human nature, they are apt to lose hold of solid principle ([greek: a(/pan to\ be/baion au)tô=n e)xoi/chetai]). they are like trees which have been frequently transplanted. the earth about them is loose, and they have no roots reaching far into the soil. they 'light upon every flower,' following their own wayward wills, or because the wind blows them. they catch opinions, as diseases are caught--when they are in the air. borne hither and thither, 'they speedily fall into beliefs' the opposite of those in which they were brought up. they hardly retain the distinction of right and wrong; they seem to think one thing as good as another. they suppose themselves to be searching after truth when they are playing the game of 'follow my leader.' they fall in love 'at first sight' with paradoxes respecting morality, some fancy about art, some novelty or eccentricity in religion, and like lovers they are so absorbed for a time in their new notion that they can think of nothing else. the resolution of some philosophical or theological question seems to them more interesting and important than any substantial knowledge of {cxv} literature or science or even than a good life. like the youth in the philebus, they are ready to discourse to any one about a new philosophy. they are generally the disciples of some eminent professor or sophist, whom they rather imitate than understand. they may be counted happy if in later years they retain some of the simple truths which they acquired in early education, and which they may, perhaps, find to be worth all the rest. such is the picture which plato draws and which we only reproduce, partly in his own words, of the dangers which beset youth in times of transition, when old opinions are fading away and the new are not yet firmly established. their condition is ingeniously compared by him to that of a supposititious son, who has made the discovery that his reputed parents are not his real ones, and, in consequence, they have lost their authority over him. the distinction between the mathematician and the dialectician is also noticeable. plato is very well aware that the faculty of the mathematician is quite distinct from the higher philosophical sense which recognizes and combines first principles ( e). the contempt which he expresses at p. for distinctions of words, the danger of involuntary falsehood, the apology which socrates makes for his earnestness of speech, are highly characteristic of the platonic style and mode of thought. the quaint notion that if palamedes was the inventor of number agamemnon could not have counted his feet; the art by which we are made to believe that this state of ours is not a dream only; the gravity with which the first step is taken in the actual creation of the state, namely, the sending out of the city all who had arrived at ten years of age, in order to expedite the business of education by a generation, are also truly platonic. (for the last, compare the passage at the end of the third book ( d), in which he expects the lie about the earthborn men to be believed in the second generation.) * * * * * [sidenote: _republic viii._ analysis.] book viii. * * and so we have arrived at the conclusion, that in the perfect state wives and children are to be in common; and the education and pursuits of men and women, both in war and peace, are to be common, and kings are to be philosophers and warriors, and the soldiers of the state are to live together, {cxvi} having all things in common; and they are to be warrior athletes, receiving no pay but only their food, from the other citizens. now let us return to the point at which we digressed. 'that is easily done,' he replied: 'you were speaking of the state which you had constructed, and of the individual who answered to this, both of whom you affirmed to be good; * * and you said that of inferior states there were four forms and four individuals corresponding to them, which although deficient in various degrees, were all of them worth inspecting with a view to determining the relative happiness or misery of the best or worst man. then polemarchus and adeimantus interrupted you, and this led to another argument,--and so here we are.' suppose that we put ourselves again in the same position, and do you repeat your question. 'i should like to know of what constitutions you were speaking?' besides the perfect state there are only four of any note in hellas:--first, the famous lacedaemonian or cretan commonwealth; secondly, oligarchy, a state full of evils; thirdly, democracy, which follows next in order; fourthly, tyranny, which is the disease or death of all government. now, states are not made of 'oak and rock,' but of flesh and blood; and therefore as there are five states there must be five human natures in individuals, which correspond to them. and first, there is the ambitious nature, * * which answers to the lacedaemonian state; secondly, the oligarchical nature; thirdly, the democratical; and fourthly, the tyrannical. this last will have to be compared with the perfectly just, which is the fifth, that we may know which is the happier, and then we shall be able to determine whether the argument of thrasymachus or our own is the more convincing. and as before we began with the state and went on to the individual, so now, beginning with timocracy, let us go on to the timocratical man, and then proceed to the other forms of government, and the individuals who answer to them. but how did timocracy arise out of the perfect state? plainly, like all changes of government, from division in the rulers. but whence came division? 'sing, heavenly muses,' as homer says;--let them condescend to answer us, as if we were children, to whom they put on a solemn face in jest. 'and what will they say?' * * they will say that human things are fated to decay, and even the perfect state will not escape from this law of destiny, {cxvii} when 'the wheel comes full circle' in a period short or long. plants or animals have times of fertility and sterility, which the intelligence of rulers because alloyed by sense will not enable them to ascertain, and children will be born out of season. for whereas divine creations are in a perfect cycle or number, the human creation is in a number which declines from perfection, and has four terms and three intervals of numbers, increasing, waning, assimilating, dissimilating, and yet perfectly commensurate with each other. the base of the number with a fourth added (or which is : ), multiplied by five and cubed, gives two harmonies:--the first a square number, which is a hundred times the base (or a hundred times a hundred); the second, an oblong, being a hundred squares of the rational diameter of a figure the side of which is five, subtracting one from each square or two perfect squares from all, and adding a hundred cubes of three. this entire number is geometrical and contains the rule or law of generation. when this law is neglected marriages will be unpropitious; the inferior offspring who are then born will in time become the rulers; the state will decline, and education fall into decay; gymnastic will be preferred to music, and the gold and silver and brass and iron will form a chaotic mass-- * * thus division will arise. such is the muses' answer to our question. 'and a true answer, of course:--but what more have they to say?' they say that the two races, the iron and brass, and the silver and gold, will draw the state different ways;--the one will take to trade and moneymaking, and the others, having the true riches and not caring for money, will resist them: the contest will end in a compromise; they will agree to have private property, and will enslave their fellow-citizens who were once their friends and nurturers. but they will retain their warlike character, and will be chiefly occupied in fighting and exercising rule. thus arises timocracy, which is intermediate between aristocracy and oligarchy. the new form of government resembles the ideal in obedience to rulers and contempt for trade, and having common meals, and in devotion to warlike and gymnastic exercises. but corruption has crept into philosophy, and simplicity of character, which was once her note, is now looked for only in the military class. * * arts of war begin to prevail over arts of peace; the ruler is no longer a {cxviii} philosopher; as in oligarchies, there springs up among them an extravagant love of gain--get another man's and save your own, is their principle; and they have dark places in which they hoard their gold and silver, for the use of their women and others; they take their pleasures by stealth, like boys who are running away from their father--the law; and their education is not inspired by the muse, but imposed by the strong arm of power. the leading characteristic of this state is party spirit and ambition. and what manner of man answers to such a state? 'in love of contention,' replied adeimantus, 'he will be like our friend glaucon.' in that respect, perhaps, but not in others. he is self-asserting and ill-educated, * * yet fond of literature, although not himself a speaker,--fierce with slaves, but obedient to rulers, a lover of power and honour, which he hopes to gain by deeds of arms,--fond, too, of gymnastics and of hunting. as he advances in years he grows avaricious, for he has lost philosophy, which is the only saviour and guardian of men. his origin is as follows:--his father is a good man dwelling in an ill-ordered state, who has retired from politics in order that he may lead a quiet life. his mother is angry at her loss of precedence among other women; she is disgusted at her husband's selfishness, and she expatiates to her son on the unmanliness and indolence of his father. the old family servant takes up the tale, and says to the youth:--'when you grow up you must be more of a man than your father.' * * all the world are agreed that he who minds his own business is an idiot, while a busybody is highly honoured and esteemed. the young man compares this spirit with his father's words and ways, and as he is naturally well disposed, although he has suffered from evil influences, he rests at a middle point and becomes ambitious and a lover of honour. and now let us set another city over against another man. the next form of government is oligarchy, in which the rule is of the rich only; nor is it difficult to see how such a state arises. the decline begins with the possession of gold and silver; illegal modes of expenditure are invented; one draws another on, and the multitude are infected; riches outweigh virtue; * * lovers of money take the place of lovers of honour; misers of {cxix} politicians; and, in time, political privileges are confined by law to the rich, who do not shrink from violence in order to effect their purposes. thus much of the origin,--let us next consider the evils of oligarchy. would a man who wanted to be safe on a voyage take a bad pilot because he was rich, or refuse a good one because he was poor? and does not the analogy apply still more to the state? and there are yet greater evils: two nations are struggling together in one--the rich and the poor; and the rich dare not put arms into the hands of the poor, and are unwilling to pay for defenders out of their own money. and have we not already condemned that state * * in which the same persons are warriors as well as shopkeepers? the greatest evil of all is that a man may sell his property and have no place in the state; while there is one class which has enormous wealth, the other is entirely destitute. but observe that these destitutes had not really any more of the governing nature in them when they were rich than now that they are poor; they were miserable spendthrifts always. they are the drones of the hive; only whereas the actual drone is unprovided by nature with a sting, the two-legged things whom we call drones are some of them without stings and some of them have dreadful stings; in other words, there are paupers and there are rogues. these are never far apart; and in oligarchical cities, where nearly everybody is a pauper who is not a ruler, you will find abundance of both. and this evil state of society originates in bad education and bad government. * * like state, like man,--the change in the latter begins with the representative of timocracy; he walks at first in the ways of his father, who may have been a statesman, or general, perhaps; and presently he sees him 'fallen from his high estate,' the victim of informers, dying in prison or exile, or by the hand of the executioner. the lesson which he thus receives, makes him cautious; he leaves politics, represses his pride, and saves pence. avarice is enthroned as his bosom's lord, and assumes the style of the great king; the rational and spirited elements sit humbly on the ground at either side, the one immersed in calculation, the other absorbed in the admiration of wealth. the love of honour turns to love of money; the conversion is instantaneous. the {cxx} man is mean, saving, toiling, * * the slave of one passion which is the master of the rest: is he not the very image of the state? he has had no education, or he would never have allowed the blind god of riches to lead the dance within him. and being uneducated he will have many slavish desires, some beggarly, some knavish, breeding in his soul. if he is the trustee of an orphan, and has the power to defraud, he will soon prove that he is not without the will, and that his passions are only restrained by fear and not by reason. hence he leads a divided existence; in which the better desires mostly prevail. * * but when he is contending for prizes and other distinctions, he is afraid to incur a loss which is to be repaid only by barren honour; in time of war he fights with a small part of his resources, and usually keeps his money and loses the victory. next comes democracy and the democratic man, out of oligarchy and the oligarchical man. insatiable avarice is the ruling passion of an oligarchy; and they encourage expensive habits in order that they may gain by the ruin of extravagant youth. thus men of family often lose their property or rights of citizenship; but they remain in the city, full of hatred against the new owners of their estates and ripe for revolution. the usurer with stooping walk pretends not to see them; he passes by, and leaves his sting--that is, his money--in some other victim; and many a man has to pay the parent or principal sum multiplied into a family of children, * * and is reduced into a state of dronage by him. the only way of diminishing the evil is either to limit a man in his use of his property, or to insist that he shall lend at his own risk. but the ruling class do not want remedies; they care only for money, and are as careless of virtue as the poorest of the citizens. now there are occasions on which the governors and the governed meet together,--at festivals, on a journey, voyaging or fighting. the sturdy pauper finds that in the hour of danger he is not despised; he sees the rich man puffing and panting, and draws the conclusion which he privately imparts to his companions,--'that our people are not good for much;' and as a sickly frame is made ill by a mere touch from without, or sometimes without external impulse is ready to fall to pieces of itself, so from the least cause, or with none at all, the city falls ill and fights a battle for life or death. * * and democracy comes into {cxxi} power when the poor are the victors, killing some and exiling some, and giving equal shares in the government to all the rest. the manner of life in such a state is that of democrats; there is freedom and plainness of speech, and every man does what is right in his own eyes, and has his own way of life. hence arise the most various developments of character; the state is like a piece of embroidery of which the colours and figures are the manners of men, and there are many who, like women and children, prefer this variety to real beauty and excellence. the state is not one but many, like a bazaar at which you can buy anything. the great charm is, that you may do as you like; you may govern if you like, let it alone if you like; go to war and make peace if you feel disposed, * * and all quite irrespective of anybody else. when you condemn men to death they remain alive all the same; a gentleman is desired to go into exile, and he stalks about the streets like a hero; and nobody sees him or cares for him. observe, too, how grandly democracy sets her foot upon all our fine theories of education,--how little she cares for the training of her statesmen! the only qualification which she demands is the profession of patriotism. such is democracy;--a pleasing, lawless, various sort of government, distributing equality to equals and unequals alike. let us now inspect the individual democrat; and first, as in the case of the state, we will trace his antecedents. he is the son of a miserly oligarch, and has been taught by him to restrain the love of unnecessary pleasures. perhaps i ought to explain this latter term:-- * * necessary pleasures are those which are good, and which we cannot do without; unnecessary pleasures are those which do no good, and of which the desire might be eradicated by early training. for example, the pleasures of eating and drinking are necessary and healthy, up to a certain point; beyond that point they are alike hurtful to body and mind, and the excess may be avoided. when in excess, they may be rightly called expensive pleasures, in opposition to the useful ones. and the drone, as we called him, is the slave of these unnecessary pleasures and desires, whereas the miserly oligarch is subject only to the necessary. the oligarch changes into the democrat in the following manner:--the youth who has had a miserly bringing up, gets {cxxii} a taste of the drone's honey; he meets with wild companions, who introduce him to every new pleasure. as in the state, so in the individual, there are allies on both sides, temptations from without and passions from within; there is reason also and external influences of parents and friends in alliance with the oligarchical principle; * * and the two factions are in violent conflict with one another. sometimes the party of order prevails, but then again new desires and new disorders arise, and the whole mob of passions gets possession of the acropolis, that is to say, the soul, which they find void and unguarded by true words and works. falsehoods and illusions ascend to take their place; the prodigal goes back into the country of the lotophagi or drones, and openly dwells there. and if any offer of alliance or parley of individual elders comes from home, the false spirits shut the gates of the castle and permit no one to enter,--there is a battle, and they gain the victory; and straightway making alliance with the desires, they banish modesty, which they call folly, and send temperance over the border. when the house has been swept and garnished, they dress up the exiled vices, and, crowning them with garlands, bring them back under new names. insolence they call good breeding, anarchy freedom, waste magnificence, impudence courage. * * such is the process by which the youth passes from the necessary pleasures to the unnecessary. after a while he divides his time impartially between them; and perhaps, when he gets older and the violence of passion has abated, he restores some of the exiles and lives in a sort of equilibrium, indulging first one pleasure and then another; and if reason comes and tells him that some pleasures are good and honourable, and others bad and vile, he shakes his head and says that he can make no distinction between them. thus he lives in the fancy of the hour; sometimes he takes to drink, and then he turns abstainer; he practises in the gymnasium or he does nothing at all; then again he would be a philosopher or a politician; or again, he would be a warrior or a man of business; he is 'every thing by starts and nothing long.' * * there remains still the finest and fairest of all men and all states--tyranny and the tyrant. tyranny springs from democracy much as democracy springs from oligarchy. both arise {cxxiii} from excess; the one from excess of wealth, the other from excess of freedom. 'the great natural good of life,' says the democrat, 'is freedom.' and this exclusive love of freedom and regardlessness of everything else, is the cause of the change from democracy to tyranny. the state demands the strong wine of freedom, and unless her rulers give her a plentiful draught, punishes and insults them; equality and fraternity of governors and governed is the approved principle. anarchy is the law, not of the state only, but of private houses, and extends even to the animals. * * father and son, citizen and foreigner, teacher and pupil, old and young, are all on a level; fathers and teachers fear their sons and pupils, and the wisdom of the young man is a match for the elder, and the old imitate the jaunty manners of the young because they are afraid of being thought morose. slaves are on a level with their masters and mistresses, and there is no difference between men and women. nay, the very animals in a democratic state have a freedom which is unknown in other places. the she-dogs are as good as their she-mistresses, and horses and asses march along with dignity and run their noses against anybody who comes in their way. 'that has often been my experience.' at last the citizens become so sensitive that they cannot endure the yoke of laws, written or unwritten; they would have no man call himself their master. such is the glorious beginning of things out of which tyranny springs. 'glorious, indeed; but what is to follow?' the ruin of oligarchy is the ruin of democracy; * * for there is a law of contraries; the excess of freedom passes into the excess of slavery, and the greater the freedom the greater the slavery. you will remember that in the oligarchy were found two classes--rogues and paupers, whom we compared to drones with and without stings. these two classes are to the state what phlegm and bile are to the human body; and the state-physician, or legislator, must get rid of them, just as the bee-master keeps the drones out of the hive. now in a democracy, too, there are drones, but they are more numerous and more dangerous than in the oligarchy; there they are inert and unpractised, here they are full of life and animation; and the keener sort speak and act, while the others buzz about the bema and prevent their opponents from being heard. and there is another class in democratic states, {cxxiv} of respectable, thriving individuals, who can be squeezed when the drones have need of their possessions; * * there is moreover a third class, who are the labourers and the artisans, and they make up the mass of the people. when the people meet, they are omnipotent, but they cannot be brought together unless they are attracted by a little honey; and the rich are made to supply the honey, of which the demagogues keep the greater part themselves, giving a taste only to the mob. their victims attempt to resist; they are driven mad by the stings of the drones, and so become downright oligarchs in self-defence. then follow informations and convictions for treason. the people have some protector whom they nurse into greatness, and from this root the tree of tyranny springs. the nature of the change is indicated in the old fable of the temple of zeus lycaeus, which tells how he who tastes human flesh mixed up with the flesh of other victims will turn into a wolf. even so the protector, who tastes human blood, and slays some and exiles others with or without law, who hints at abolition of debts and division of lands, * * must either perish or become a wolf--that is, a tyrant. perhaps he is driven out, but he soon comes back from exile; and then if his enemies cannot get rid of him by lawful means, they plot his assassination. thereupon the friend of the people makes his well-known request to them for a body-guard, which they readily grant, thinking only of his danger and not of their own. now let the rich man make to himself wings, for he will never run away again if he does not do so then. and the great protector, having crushed all his rivals, stands proudly erect in the chariot of state, a full-blown tyrant: let us enquire into the nature of his happiness. in the early days of his tyranny he smiles and beams upon everybody; he is not a 'dominus,' no, not he: he has only come to put an end to debt and the monopoly of land. having got rid of foreign enemies, * * he makes himself necessary to the state by always going to war. he is thus enabled to depress the poor by heavy taxes, and so keep them at work; and he can get rid of bolder spirits by handing them over to the enemy. then comes unpopularity; some of his old associates have the courage to oppose him. the consequence is, that he has to make a purgation of the state; but, unlike the physician who purges {cxxv} away the bad, he must get rid of the high-spirited, the wise and the wealthy; for he has no choice between death and a life of shame and dishonour. and the more hated he is, the more he will require trusty guards; but how will he obtain them? 'they will come flocking like birds--for pay.' will he not rather obtain them on the spot? he will take the slaves from their owners and make them his body-guard; * * these are his trusted friends, who admire and look up to him. are not the tragic poets wise who magnify and exalt the tyrant, and say that he is wise by association with the wise? and are not their praises of tyranny alone a sufficient reason why we should exclude them from our state? they may go to other cities, and gather the mob about them with fine words, and change commonwealths into tyrannies and democracies, receiving honours and rewards for their services; but the higher they and their friends ascend constitution hill, the more their honour will fail and become 'too asthmatic to mount.' to return to the tyrant--how will he support that rare army of his? first, by robbing the temples of their treasures, which will enable him to lighten the taxes; then he will take all his father's property, and spend it on his companions, male or female. now his father is the demus, and if the demus gets angry, * * and says that a great hulking son ought not to be a burden on his parents, and bids him and his riotous crew begone, then will the parent know what a monster he has been nurturing, and that the son whom he would fain expel is too strong for him. 'you do not mean to say that he will beat his father?' yes, he will, after having taken away his arms. 'then he is a parricide and a cruel, unnatural son.' and the people have jumped from the fear of slavery into slavery, out of the smoke into the fire. thus liberty, when out of all order and reason, passes into the worst form of servitude.... * * * * * [sidenote: _republic viii._ introduction.] in the previous books plato has described the ideal state; now he returns to the perverted or declining forms, on which he had lightly touched at the end of book iv. these he describes in a succession of parallels between the individuals and the states, tracing the origin of either in the state or individual which has preceded them. he begins by asking the point at which he digressed; and is thus led shortly to recapitulate the substance {cxxvi} of the three former books, which also contain a parallel of the philosopher and the state. of the first decline he gives no intelligible account; he would not have liked to admit the most probable causes of the fall of his ideal state, which to us would appear to be the impracticability of communism or the natural antagonism of the ruling and subject classes. he throws a veil of mystery over the origin of the decline, which he attributes to ignorance of the law of population. of this law the famous geometrical figure or number is the expression. like the ancients in general, he had no idea of the gradual perfectibility of man or of the education of the human race. his ideal was not to be attained in the course of ages, but was to spring in full armour from the head of the legislator. when good laws had been given, he thought only of the manner in which they were likely to be corrupted, or of how they might be filled up in detail or restored in accordance with their original spirit. he appears not to have reflected upon the full meaning of his own words, 'in the brief space of human life, nothing great can be accomplished' (x. b); or again, as he afterwards says in the laws (iii. ), 'infinite time is the maker of cities.' the order of constitutions which is adopted by him represents an order of thought rather than a succession of time, and may be considered as the first attempt to frame a philosophy of history. the first of these declining states is timocracy, or the government of soldiers and lovers of honour, which answers to the spartan state; this is a government of force, in which education is not inspired by the muses, but imposed by the law, and in which all the finer elements of organization have disappeared. the philosopher himself has lost the love of truth, and the soldier, who is of a simpler and honester nature, rules in his stead. the individual who answers to timocracy has some noticeable qualities. he is described as ill educated, but, like the spartan, a lover of literature; and although he is a harsh master to his servants he has no natural superiority over them. his character is based upon a reaction against the circumstances of his father, who in a troubled city has retired from politics; and his mother, who is dissatisfied at her own position, is always urging him towards the life of political ambition. such a character may have had this origin, and indeed livy attributes the licinian laws to a {cxxvii} feminine jealousy of a similar kind (vii. ). but there is obviously no connection between the manner in which the timocratic state springs out of the ideal, and the mere accident by which the timocratic man is the son of a retired statesman. the two next stages in the decline of constitutions have even less historical foundation. for there is no trace in greek history of a polity like the spartan or cretan passing into an oligarchy of wealth, or of the oligarchy of wealth passing into a democracy. the order of history appears to be different; first, in the homeric times there is the royal or patriarchal form of government, which a century or two later was succeeded by an oligarchy of birth rather than of wealth, and in which wealth was only the accident of the hereditary possession of land and power. sometimes this oligarchical government gave way to a government based upon a qualification of property, which, according to aristotle's mode of using words, would have been called a timocracy; and this in some cities, as at athens, became the conducting medium to democracy. but such was not the necessary order of succession in states; nor, indeed, can any order be discerned in the endless fluctuation of greek history (like the tides in the euripus), except, perhaps, in the almost uniform tendency from monarchy to aristocracy in the earliest times. at first sight there appears to be a similar inversion in the last step of the platonic succession; for tyranny, instead of being the natural end of democracy, in early greek history appears rather as a stage leading to democracy; the reign of peisistratus and his sons is an episode which comes between the legislation of solon and the constitution of cleisthenes; and some secret cause common to them all seems to have led the greater part of hellas at her first appearance in the dawn of history, e.g. athens, argos, corinth, sicyon, and nearly every state with the exception of sparta, through a similar stage of tyranny which ended either in oligarchy or democracy. but then we must remember that plato is describing rather the contemporary governments of the sicilian states, which alternated between democracy and tyranny, than the ancient history of athens or corinth. the portrait of the tyrant himself is just such as the later greek delighted to draw of phalaris and dionysius, in which, as in the lives of mediaeval saints or mythic heroes, the conduct and actions {cxxviii} of one were attributed to another in order to fill up the outline. there was no enormity which the greek was not today to believe of them; the tyrant was the negation of government and law; his assassination was glorious; there was no crime, however unnatural, which might not with probability be attributed to him. in this, plato was only following the common thought of his countrymen, which he embellished and exaggerated with all the power of his genius. there is no need to suppose that he drew from life; or that his knowledge of tyrants is derived from a personal acquaintance with dionysius. the manner in which he speaks of them would rather tend to render doubtful his ever having 'consorted' with them, or entertained the schemes, which are attributed to him in the epistles, of regenerating sicily by their help. plato in a hyperbolical and serio-comic vein exaggerates the follies of democracy which he also sees reflected in social life. to him democracy is a state of individualism or dissolution; in which every one is doing what is right in his own eyes. of a people animated by a common spirit of liberty, rising as one man to repel the persian host, which is the leading idea of democracy in herodotus and thucydides, he never seems to think. but if he is not a believer in liberty, still less is he a lover of tyranny. his deeper and more serious condemnation is reserved for the tyrant, who is the ideal of wickedness and also of weakness, and who in his utter helplessness and suspiciousness is leading an almost impossible existence, without that remnant of good which, in plato's opinion, was required to give power to evil (book i. p. ). this ideal of wickedness living in helpless misery, is the reverse of that other portrait of perfect injustice ruling in happiness and splendour, which first of all thrasymachus, and afterwards the sons of ariston had drawn, and is also the reverse of the king whose rule of life is the good of his subjects. each of these governments and individuals has a corresponding ethical gradation: the ideal state is under the rule of reason, not extinguishing but harmonizing the passions, and training them in virtue; in the timocracy and the timocratic man the constitution, whether of the state or of the individual, is based, first, upon courage, and secondly, upon the love of honour; this latter virtue, {cxxix} which is hardly to be esteemed a virtue, has superseded all the rest. in the second stage of decline the virtues have altogether disappeared, and the love of gain has succeeded to them; in the third stage, or democracy, the various passions are allowed to have free play, and the virtues and vices are impartially cultivated. but this freedom, which leads to many curious extravagances of character, is in reality only a state of weakness and dissipation. at last, one monster passion takes possession of the whole nature of man--this is tyranny. in all of them excess--the excess first of wealth and then of freedom, is the element of decay. the eighth book of the republic abounds in pictures of life and fanciful allusions; the use of metaphorical language is carried to a greater extent than anywhere else in plato. we may remark, ( ), the description of the two nations in one, which become more and more divided in the greek republics, as in feudal times, and perhaps also in our own; ( ), the notion of democracy expressed in a sort of pythagorean formula as equality among unequals; ( ), the free and easy ways of men and animals, which are characteristic of liberty, as foreign mercenaries and universal mistrust are of the tyrant; ( ), the proposal that mere debts should not be recoverable by law is a speculation which has often been entertained by reformers of the law in modern times, and is in harmony with the tendencies of modern legislation. debt and land were the two great difficulties of the ancient lawgiver: in modern times we may be said to have almost, if not quite, solved the first of these difficulties, but hardly the second. still more remarkable are the corresponding portraits of individuals: there is the family picture of the father and mother and the old servant of the timocratical man, and the outward respectability and inherent meanness of the oligarchical; the uncontrolled licence and freedom of the democrat, in which the young alcibiades seems to be depicted, doing right or wrong as he pleases, and who at last, like the prodigal, goes into a far country (note here the play of language by which the democratic man is himself represented under the image of a state having a citadel and receiving embassies); and there is the wild-beast nature, which breaks loose in his successor. the hit about the tyrant being a parricide; the representation of the tyrant's life as {cxxx} an obscene dream; the rhetorical surprise of a more miserable than the most miserable of men in book ix; the hint to the poets that if they are the friends of tyrants there is no place for them in a constitutional state, and that they are too clever not to see the propriety of their own expulsion; the continuous image of the drones who are of two kinds, swelling at last into the monster drone having wings (see infra, book ix),--are among plato's happiest touches. there remains to be considered the great difficulty of this book of the republic, the so-called number of the state. this is a puzzle almost as great as the number of the beast in the book of revelation, and though apparently known to aristotle, is referred to by cicero as a proverb of obscurity (ep. ad att. vii. , ). and some have imagined that there is no answer to the puzzle, and that plato has been practising upon his readers. but such a deception as this is inconsistent with the manner in which aristotle speaks of the number (pol. v. , § ), and would have been ridiculous to any reader of the republic who was acquainted with greek mathematics. as little reason is there for supposing that plato intentionally used obscure expressions; the obscurity arises from our want of familiarity with the subject. on the other hand, plato himself indicates that he is not altogether serious, and in describing his number as a solemn jest of the muses, he appears to imply some degree of satire on the symbolical use of number. (cp. cratylus _passim_; protag. ff.) our hope of understanding the passage depends principally on an accurate study of the words themselves; on which a faint light is thrown by the parallel passage in the ninth book. another help is the allusion in aristotle, who makes the important remark that the latter part of the passage (from [greek: ô(=n e)pi/tritos puthmê\n, k.t.l.]) describes a solid figure. some further clue may be gathered from the appearance of the pythagorean triangle, which is denoted by the numbers , , , and in which, as in every right-angled {cxxxi} triangle, the squares of the two lesser sides equal the square of the hypotenuse ( ^ + ^ = ^ , or + = ). [footnote : pol. v. , § :--'he only says that nothing is abiding, but that all things change in a certain cycle; and that the origin of the change is a base of numbers which are in the ratio of : ; and this when combined with a figure of five gives two harmonies; he means when the number of this figure becomes solid.'] plato begins by speaking of a perfect or cyclical number (cp. tim. d), i.e. a number in which the sum of the divisors equals the whole; this is the divine or perfect number in which all lesser cycles or revolutions are complete. he also speaks of a human or imperfect number, having four terms and three intervals of numbers which are related to one another in certain proportions; these he converts into figures, and finds in them when they have been raised to the third power certain elements of number, which give two 'harmonies,' the one square, the other oblong; but he does not say that the square number answers to the divine, or the oblong number to the human cycle; nor is any intimation given that the first or divine number represents the period of the world, the second the period of the state, or of the human race as zeller supposes; nor is the divine number afterwards mentioned (cp. arist.). the second is the number of generations or births, and presides over them in the same mysterious manner in which the stars preside over them, or in which, according to the pythagoreans, opportunity, justice, marriage, are represented by some number or figure. this is probably the number . the explanation given in the text supposes the two harmonies to make up the number . this explanation derives a certain plausibility from the circumstance that is the ancient number of the spartan citizens (herod. vii. ), and would be what plato might have called 'a number which nearly concerns the population of a city' ( a); the mysterious disappearance of the spartan population may possibly have suggested to him the first cause of his decline of states. the lesser or square 'harmony,' of , might be a symbol of the guardians,--the larger or oblong 'harmony,' of the people, and the numbers , , might refer respectively to the three orders in the state or parts of the soul, the four virtues, the five forms of government. the harmony of the musical scale, which is elsewhere used as a symbol of the harmony of the state (rep. iv. d), is also indicated. for the numbers , , , which represent the sides of the pythagorean triangle, also denote the intervals of the scale. the terms used in the statement of the problem may be {cxxxii} explained as follows. a perfect number ([greek: te/leios a)rithmo/s]), as already stated, is one which is equal to the sum of its divisors. thus , which is the first perfect or cyclical number, = + + . the words [greek: o)/roi], 'terms' or 'notes,' and [greek: a)posta/seis], 'intervals,' are applicable to music as well as to number and figure. [greek: prô/tô|] is the 'base' on which the whole calculation depends, or the 'lowest term' from which it can be worked out. the words [greek: duna/menai/ te kai\ dunasteuo/menoi] have been variously translated--'squared and cubed' (donaldson), 'equalling and equalled in power' (weber), 'by involution and evolution,' i.e. by raising the power and extracting the root (as in the translation). numbers are called 'like and unlike' ([greek: o(moiou=nte/s te kai\ a)nomoiou=ntes]) when the factors or the sides of the planes and cubes which they represent are or are not in the same ratio: e.g. and = ^ and ^ ; and conversely. 'waxing' ([greek: au)/xontes]) numbers, called also 'increasing' ([greek: u(pertelei=s]) are those which are exceeded by the sum of their divisors: e.g. and are less than and . 'waning' ([greek: phthi/nontes]) numbers, called also 'decreasing' ([greek: e)llipei=s]) are those which succeed the sum of their divisors: e.g. and exceed and . the words translated 'commensurable and agreeable to one another' ([greek: prosê/gora kai\ r(êta/]) seem to be different ways of describing the same relation, with more or less precision. they are equivalent to 'expressible in terms having the same relation to one another,' like the series , , , , each of which numbers is in the relation of and / to the preceding. the 'base,' or 'fundamental number, which has / added to it' ( and / ) = / or a musical fourth. [greek: a(rmoni/a] is a 'proportion' of numbers as of musical notes, applied either to the parts or factors of a single number or to the relation of one number to another. the first harmony is a 'square' number ([greek: i)/sên i)sa/kis]); the second harmony is an 'oblong' number ([greek: promê/kê]), i.e. a number representing a figure of which the opposite sides only are equal. [greek: a)rithmoi\ a)po\ diame/trôn] = 'numbers squared from' or 'upon diameters'; [greek: r(êtô=n] = 'rational,' i.e. omitting fractions, [greek: a)r)r(ê/tôn], 'irrational,' i.e. including fractions; e.g. is a square of the rational diameter of a figure the side of which = : , of an irrational diameter of the same. for several of the explanations here given and for a good deal besides i am indebted to an excellent article on the platonic number by dr. donaldson (proc. of the philol. society, vol. i. p. ff.). {cxxxiii} the conclusions which he draws from these data are summed up by him as follows. having assumed that the number of the perfect or divine cycle is the number of the world, and the number of the imperfect cycle the number of the state, he proceeds: 'the period of the world is defined by the perfect number , that of the state by the cube of that number or , which is the product of the last pair of terms in the platonic tetractys[ ]; and if we take this as the basis of our computation, we shall have two cube numbers ([greek: au)xê/seis duna/menai/ te kai\ dunasteuo/menai]), viz. and ; and the mean proportionals between these, viz. and , will furnish three intervals and four terms, and these terms and intervals stand related to one another in the _sesqui-altera_ ratio, i.e. each term is to the preceding as / . now if we remember that the number = x = ^ + ^ + ^ , and ^ + ^ = ^ , we must admit that this number implies the numbers , , , to which musicians attach so much importance. and if we combine the ratio / with the number , or multiply the ratios of the sides by the hypotenuse, we shall by first squaring and then cubing obtain two expressions, which denote the ratio of the two last pairs of terms in the platonic tetractys, the former multiplied by the square, the latter by the cube of the number , the sum of the first four digits which constitute the platonic tetractys.' the two [greek: a(rmoni/ai] he elsewhere explains as follows: 'the first [greek: a(rmoni/a] is [greek: i)/sên i)sa/kis e(kato\n tosauta/kis], in other words ( / x )^ = x ^ / ^ . the second [greek: a(rmoni/a], a cube of the same root, is described as multiplied ([greek: a]) by the rational diameter of diminished by unity, i.e., as shown above, : ([greek: b]) by two incommensurable diameters, i.e. the two first irrationals, or and : and ([greek: g]) by the cube of , or . thus we have ( + + ) = x ^ . this second harmony is to be the cube of the number of which the former harmony is the square, and therefore must be divided by the cube of . in other words, the whole expression will be: ( ), for the first harmony, / : ( ), for the second harmony, / .' [footnote : the platonic tetractys consisted of a series of seven terms, , , , , , , .] the reasons which have inclined me to agree with dr. donaldson and also with schleiermacher in supposing that is the platonic number of births are: ( ) that it coincides with the description of the number given in the first part of the passage ([greek: e)n ô(=| prô/tô| ... {cxxxiv} a)pe/phêsan]): ( ) that the number with its permutations would have been familiar to a greek mathematician, though unfamiliar to us: ( ) that is the cube of , and also the sum of ^ , ^ , ^ , the numbers , , representing the pythagorean triangle, of which the sides when squared equal the square of the hypotenuse ( ^ + ^ = ^ ): ( ) that it is also the period of the pythagorean metempsychosis: ( ) the three ultimate terms or bases ( , , ) of which is composed answer to the third, fourth, fifth in the musical scale: ( ) that the number is the product of the cubes of and , which are the two last terms in the platonic tetractys: ( ) that the pythagorean triangle is said by plutarch (de is. et osir., e), proclus (super prima eucl. iv. p. ), and quintilian (de musica iii. p. ) to be contained in this passage, so that the tradition of the school seems to point in the same direction: ( ) that the pythagorean triangle is called also the figure of marriage ([greek: gamê/lion dia/gramma]). but though agreeing with dr. donaldson thus far, i see no reason for supposing, as he does, that the first or perfect number is the world, the human or imperfect number the state; nor has he given any proof that the second harmony is a cube. nor do i think that [greek: a)r)r(ê/tôn de\ duei=n] can mean 'two incommensurables,' which he arbitrarily assumes to be and , but rather, as the preceding clause implies, [greek: duei=n a)rithmoi=n a)po\ a)r)r(ê/tôn diame/trôn pempa/dos], i.e. two square numbers based upon irrational diameters of a figure the side of which is = x . the greatest objection to the translation is the sense given to the words [greek: e)pi/tritos puthmê/n k.t.l.], 'a base of three with a third added to it, multiplied by .' in this somewhat forced manner plato introduces once more the numbers of the pythagorean triangle. but the coincidences in the numbers which follow are in favour of the explanation. the first harmony of , as has been already remarked, probably represents the rulers; the second and oblong harmony of , the people. and here we take leave of the difficulty. the discovery of the riddle would be useless, and would throw no light on ancient mathematics. the point of interest is that plato should have used such a symbol, and that so much of the pythagorean spirit should have prevailed in him. his general meaning is that divine creation is perfect, and is represented or presided {cxxxv} over by a perfect or cyclical number; human generation is imperfect, and represented or presided over by an imperfect number or series of numbers. the number , which is the number of the citizens in the laws, is expressly based by him on utilitarian grounds, namely, the convenience of the number for division; it is also made up of the first seven digits multiplied by one another. the contrast of the perfect and imperfect number may have been easily suggested by the corrections of the cycle, which were made first by meton and secondly by callippus; (the latter is said to have been a pupil of plato). of the degree of importance or of exactness to be attributed to the problem, the number of the tyrant in book ix. ( = x ), and the slight correction of the error in the number / (laws, c), may furnish a criterion. there is nothing surprising in the circumstance that those who were seeking for order in nature and had found order in number, should have imagined one to give law to the other. plato believes in a power of number far beyond what he could see realized in the world around him, and he knows the great influence which 'the little matter of , , ' (vii. c) exercises upon education. he may even be thought to have a prophetic anticipation of the discoveries of quetelet and others, that numbers depend upon numbers; e.g.--in population, the numbers of births and the respective numbers of children born of either sex, on the respective ages of parents, i.e. on other numbers. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic ix._ analysis.] book ix. * * last of all comes the tyrannical man, about whom we have to enquire, whence is he, and how does he live--in happiness or in misery? there is, however, a previous question of the nature and number of the appetites, which i should like to consider first. some of them are unlawful, and yet admit of being chastened and weakened in various degrees by the power of reason and law. 'what appetites do you mean?' i mean those which are awake when the reasoning powers are asleep, which get up and walk about naked without any self-respect or shame; and there is no conceivable folly or crime, however cruel or unnatural, of which, in imagination, they may not be guilty. 'true,' he said; 'very true.' but when a man's pulse beats temperately; and he has supped on a feast of reason and come to a knowledge of himself {cxxxvi} before going to rest, * * and has satisfied his desires just enough to prevent their perturbing his reason, which remains clear and luminous, and when he is free from quarrel and heat,--the visions which he has on his bed are least irregular and abnormal. even in good men there is such an irregular wild-beast nature, which peers out in sleep. to return:--you remember what was said of the democrat; that he was the son of a miserly father, who encouraged the saving desires and repressed the ornamental and expensive ones; presently the youth got into fine company, and began to entertain a dislike to his father's narrow ways; and being a better man than the corrupters of his youth, he came to a mean, and led a life, not of lawless or slavish passion, but of regular and successive indulgence. now imagine that the youth has become a father, and has a son who is exposed to the same temptations, and has companions who lead him into every sort of iniquity, and parents and friends who try to keep him right. * * the counsellors of evil find that their only chance of retaining him is to implant in his soul a monster drone, or love; while other desires buzz around him and mystify him with sweet sounds and scents, this monster love takes possession of him, and puts an end to every true or modest thought or wish. love, like drunkenness and madness, is a tyranny; and the tyrannical man, whether made by nature or habit, is just a drinking, lusting, furious sort of animal. and how does such an one live? 'nay, that you must tell me.' well then, i fancy that he will live amid revelries and harlotries, and love will be the lord and master of the house. many desires require much money, and so he spends all that he has and borrows more; and when he has nothing the young ravens are still in the nest in which they were hatched, crying for food. * * love urges them on; and they must be gratified by force or fraud, or if not, they become painful and troublesome; and as the new pleasures succeed the old ones, so will the son take possession of the goods of his parents; if they show signs of refusing, he will defraud and deceive them; and if they openly resist, what then? 'i can only say, that i should not much like to be in their place.' but, o heavens, adeimantus, to think that for some new-fangled and unnecessary love he will give up his old father and mother, best and dearest of friends, or enslave them to the fancies of the hour! {cxxxvii} truly a tyrannical son is a blessing to his father and mother! when there is no more to be got out of them, he turns burglar or pickpocket, or robs a temple. love overmasters the thoughts of his youth, and he becomes in sober reality the monster that he was sometimes in sleep. * * he waxes strong in all violence and lawlessness; and is ready for any deed of daring that will supply the wants of his rabble-rout. in a well-ordered state there are only a few such, and these in time of war go out and become the mercenaries of a tyrant. but in time of peace they stay at home and do mischief; they are the thieves, footpads, cut-purses, man-stealers of the community; or if they are able to speak, they turn false-witnesses and informers. 'no small catalogue of crimes truly, even if the perpetrators are few.' yes, i said; but small and great are relative terms, and no crimes which are committed by them approach those of the tyrant, whom this class, growing strong and numerous, create out of themselves. if the people yield, well and good, but, if they resist, then, as before he beat his father and mother, so now he beats his fatherland and motherland, and places his mercenaries over them. such men in their early days live with flatterers, and they themselves flatter others, in order to gain their ends; * * but they soon discard their followers when they have no longer any need of them; they are always either masters or servants,--the joys of friendship are unknown to them. and they are utterly treacherous and unjust, if the nature of justice be at all understood by us. they realize our dream; and he who is the most of a tyrant by nature, and leads the life of a tyrant for the longest time, will be the worst of them, and being the worst of them, will also be the most miserable. like man, like state,--the tyrannical man will answer to tyranny, which is the extreme opposite of the royal state; for one is the best and the other the worst. but which is the happier? great and terrible as the tyrant may appear enthroned amid his satellites, let us not be afraid to go in and ask; and the answer is, that the monarchical is the happiest, and the tyrannical the most miserable of states. * * and may we not ask the same question about the men themselves, requesting some one to look into them who is able to penetrate the inner nature of man, and will not be panic-struck by the vain pomp of tyranny? i will suppose that he {cxxxviii} is one who has lived with him, and has seen him in family life, or perhaps in the hour of trouble and danger. assuming that we ourselves are the impartial judge for whom we seek, let us begin by comparing the individual and state, and ask first of all, whether the state is likely to be free or enslaved--will there not be a little freedom and a great deal of slavery? and the freedom is of the bad, and the slavery of the good; and this applies to the man as well as to the state; for his soul is full of meanness and slavery, and the better part is enslaved to the worse. he cannot do what he would, and his mind is full of confusion; he is the very reverse of a freeman. * * the state will be poor and full of misery and sorrow; and the man's soul will also be poor and full of sorrows, and he will be the most miserable of men. no, not the most miserable, for there is yet a more miserable. 'who is that?' the tyrannical man who has the misfortune also to become a public tyrant. 'there i suspect that you are right.' say rather, 'i am sure;' conjecture is out of place in an enquiry of this nature. he is like a wealthy owner of slaves, only he has more of them than any private individual. you will say, 'the owners of slaves are not generally in any fear of them.' but why? because the whole city is in a league which protects the individual. suppose however that one of these owners and his household is carried off by a god into a wilderness, where there are no freemen to help him--will he not be in an agony of terror?-- * * will he not be compelled to flatter his slaves and to promise them many things sore against his will? and suppose the same god who carried him off were to surround him with neighbours who declare that no man ought to have slaves, and that the owners of them should be punished with death. 'still worse and worse! he will be in the midst of his enemies.' and is not our tyrant such a captive soul, who is tormented by a swarm of passions which he cannot indulge; living indoors always like a woman, and jealous of those who can go out and see the world? having so many evils, will not the most miserable of men be still more miserable in a public station? master of others when he is not master of himself; like a sick man who is compelled to be an athlete; the meanest of slaves and the most abject of flatterers; wanting all things, and never able to satisfy his desires; always in fear and distraction, like the state of which he is the representative. * * {cxxxix} his jealous, hateful, faithless temper grows worse with command; he is more and more faithless, envious, unrighteous,--the most wretched of men, a misery to himself and to others. and so let us have a final trial and proclamation; need we hire a herald, or shall i proclaim the result? 'make the proclamation yourself.' _the son of ariston (the best) is of opinion that the best and justest of men is also the happiest, and that this is he who is the most royal master of himself; and that the unjust man is he who is the greatest tyrant of himself and of his state. and i add further--'seen or unseen by gods or men.'_ this is our first proof. the second is derived from the three kinds of pleasure, which answer to the three elements of the soul--reason, passion, desire; * * under which last is comprehended avarice as well as sensual appetite, while passion includes ambition, party-feeling, love of reputation. reason, again, is solely directed to the attainment of truth, and careless of money and reputation. in accordance with the difference of men's natures, one of these three principles is in the ascendant, and they have their several pleasures corresponding to them. interrogate now the three natures, and each one will be found praising his own pleasures and depreciating those of others. the money-maker will contrast the vanity of knowledge with the solid advantages of wealth. the ambitious man will despise knowledge which brings no honour; whereas the philosopher will regard only the fruition of truth, and will call other pleasures necessary rather than good. * * now, how shall we decide between them? is there any better criterion than experience and knowledge? and which of the three has the truest knowledge and the widest experience? the experience of youth makes the philosopher acquainted with the two kinds of desire, but the avaricious and the ambitious man never taste the pleasures of truth and wisdom. honour he has equally with them; they are 'judged of him,' but he is 'not judged of them,' for they never attain to the knowledge of true being. and his instrument is reason, whereas their standard is only wealth and honour; and if by reason we are to judge, his good will be the truest. and so we arrive at the result that the pleasure of the rational part of the soul, and a life passed in such pleasure is the pleasantest. * * he who has a right to judge judges thus. next comes the life of ambition, and, in the third place, that of money-making. {cxl} twice has the just man overthrown the unjust--once more, as in an olympian contest, first offering up a prayer to the saviour zeus, let him try a fall. a wise man whispers to me that the pleasures of the wise are true and pure; all others are a shadow only. let us examine this: is not pleasure opposed to pain, and is there not a mean state which is neither? when a man is sick, nothing is more pleasant to him than health. but this he never found out while he was well. in pain he desires only to cease from pain; on the other hand, when he is in an ecstasy of pleasure, rest is painful to him. thus rest or cessation is both pleasure and pain. but can that which is neither become both? again, pleasure and pain are motions, and the absence of them is rest; * * but if so, how can the absence of either of them be the other? thus we are led to infer that the contradiction is an appearance only, and witchery of the senses. and these are not the only pleasures, for there are others which have no preceding pains. pure pleasure then is not the absence of pain, nor pure pain the absence of pleasure; although most of the pleasures which reach the mind through the body are reliefs of pain, and have not only their reactions when they depart, but their anticipations before they come. they can be best described in a simile. there is in nature an upper, lower, and middle region, and he who passes from the lower to the middle imagines that he is going up and is already in the upper world; and if he were taken back again would think, and truly think, that he was descending. all this arises out of his ignorance of the true upper, middle, and lower regions. and a like confusion happens with pleasure and pain, and with many other things. * * the man who compares grey with black, calls grey white; and the man who compares absence of pain with pain, calls the absence of pain pleasure. again, hunger and thirst are inanitions of the body, ignorance and folly of the soul; and food is the satisfaction of the one, knowledge of the other. now which is the purer satisfaction--that of eating and drinking, or that of knowledge? consider the matter thus: the satisfaction of that which has more existence is truer than of that which has less. the invariable and immortal has a more real existence than the variable and mortal, and has a corresponding measure of knowledge and truth. the soul, again, has more existence and truth and knowledge than the body, and is therefore more really satisfied and has a more {cxli} natural pleasure. * * those who feast only on earthly food, are always going at random up to the middle and down again; but they never pass into the true upper world, or have a taste of true pleasure. they are like fatted beasts, full of gluttony and sensuality, and ready to kill one another by reason of their insatiable lust; for they are not filled with true being, and their vessel is leaky (cp. gorgias, a, foll.). their pleasures are mere shadows of pleasure, mixed with pain, coloured and intensified by contrast, and therefore intensely desired; and men go fighting about them, as stesichorus says that the greeks fought about the shadow of helen at troy, because they know not the truth. the same may be said of the passionate element:--the desires of the ambitious soul, as well as of the covetous, have an inferior satisfaction. only when under the guidance of reason do either of the other principles do their own business * * or attain the pleasure which is natural to them. when not attaining, they compel the other parts of the soul to pursue a shadow of pleasure which is not theirs. and the more distant they are from philosophy and reason, the more distant they will be from law and order, and the more illusive will be their pleasures. the desires of love and tyranny are the farthest from law, and those of the king are nearest to it. there is one genuine pleasure, and two spurious ones: the tyrant goes beyond even the latter; he has run away altogether from law and reason. nor can the measure of his inferiority be told, except in a figure. the tyrant is the third removed from the oligarch, and has therefore, not a shadow of his pleasure, but the shadow of a shadow only. the oligarch, again, is thrice removed from the king, and thus we get the formula x , which is the number of a surface, representing the shadow which is the tyrant's pleasure, and if you like to cube this 'number of the beast,' you will find that the measure of the difference amounts to ; the king is times more happy than the tyrant. and this extraordinary number is _nearly_ equal to the number of days and nights in a year ( x = ); and is therefore concerned with human life. * * this is the interval between a good and bad man in happiness only: what must be the difference between them in comeliness of life and virtue! perhaps you may remember some one saying at the beginning of our discussion that the unjust man was profited if he had the {cxlii} reputation of justice. now that we know the nature of justice and injustice, let us make an image of the soul, which will personify his words. first of all, fashion a multitudinous beast, having a ring of heads of all manner of animals, tame and wild, and able to produce and change them at pleasure. suppose now another form of a lion, and another of a man; the second smaller than the first, the third than the second; join them together and cover them with a human skin, in which they are completely concealed. when this has been done, let us tell the supporter of injustice * * that he is feeding up the beasts and starving the man. the maintainer of justice, on the other hand, is trying to strengthen the man; he is nourishing the gentle principle within him, and making an alliance with the lion heart, in order that he may be able to keep down the many-headed hydra, and bring all into unity with each other and with themselves. thus in every point of view, whether in relation to pleasure, honour, or advantage, the just man is right, and the unjust wrong. but now, let us reason with the unjust, who is not intentionally in error. is not the noble that which subjects the beast to the man, or rather to the god in man; the ignoble, that which subjects the man to the beast? and if so, who would receive gold on condition that he was to degrade the noblest part of himself under the worst?--who would sell his son or daughter into the hands of brutal and evil men, for any amount of money? and will he sell his own fairer and diviner part without any compunction to the most godless and foul? * * would he not be worse than eriphyle, who sold her husband's life for a necklace? and intemperance is the letting loose of the multiform monster, and pride and sullenness are the growth and increase of the lion and serpent element, while luxury and effeminacy are caused by a too great relaxation of spirit. flattery and meanness again arise when the spirited element is subjected to avarice, and the lion is habituated to become a monkey. the real disgrace of handicraft arts is, that those who are engaged in them have to flatter, instead of mastering their desires; therefore we say that they should be placed under the control of the better principle in another because they have none in themselves; not, as thrasymachus imagined, to the injury of the subjects, but for {cxliii} their good. and our intention in educating the young, is to give them self-control; * * the law desires to nurse up in them a higher principle, and when they have acquired this, they may go their ways. 'what, then, shall a man profit, if he gain the whole world' and become more and more wicked? or what shall he profit by escaping discovery, if the concealment of evil prevents the cure? if he had been punished, the brute within him would have been silenced, and the gentler element liberated; and he would have united temperance, justice, and wisdom in his soul--a union better far than any combination of bodily gifts. the man of understanding will honour knowledge above all; in the next place he will keep under his body, not only for the sake of health and strength, but in order to attain the most perfect harmony of body and soul. in the acquisition of riches, too, he will aim at order and harmony; he will not desire to heap up wealth without measure, but he will fear that the increase of wealth will disturb the constitution of his own soul. for the same reason * * he will only accept such honours as will make him a better man; any others he will decline. 'in that case,' said he, 'he will never be a politician.' yes, but he will, in his own city; though probably not in his native country, unless by some divine accident. 'you mean that he will be a citizen of the ideal city, which has no place upon earth.' but in heaven, i replied, there is a pattern of such a city, and he who wishes may order his life after that image. whether such a state is or ever will be matters not; he will act according to that pattern and no other..... * * * * * [sidenote: _republic ix._ introduction.] the most noticeable points in the th book of the republic are:--( ) the account of pleasure; ( ) the number of the interval which divides the king from the tyrant; ( ) the pattern which is in heaven. . plato's account of pleasure is remarkable for moderation, and in this respect contrasts with the later platonists and the views which are attributed to them by aristotle. he is not, like the cynics, opposed to all pleasure, but rather desires that the several parts of the soul shall have their natural satisfaction; he even agrees with the epicureans in describing pleasure {cxliv} as something more than the absence of pain. this is proved by the circumstance that there are pleasures which have no antecedent pains (as he also remarks in the philebus), such as the pleasures of smell, and also the pleasures of hope and anticipation. in the previous book (pp. , ) he had made the distinction between necessary and unnecessary pleasure, which is repeated by aristotle, and he now observes that there are a further class of 'wild beast' pleasures, corresponding to aristotle's [greek: thêrio/tês]. he dwells upon the relative and unreal character of sensual pleasures and the illusion which arises out of the contrast of pleasure and pain, pointing out the superiority of the pleasures of reason, which are at rest, over the fleeting pleasures of sense and emotion. the pre-eminence of royal pleasure is shown by the fact that reason is able to form a judgment of the lower pleasures, while the two lower parts of the soul are incapable of judging the pleasures of reason. thus, in his treatment of pleasure, as in many other subjects, the philosophy of plato is 'sawn up into quantities' by aristotle; the analysis which was originally made by him became in the next generation the foundation of further technical distinctions. both in plato and aristotle we note the illusion under which the ancients fell of regarding the transience of pleasure as a proof of its unreality, and of confounding the permanence of the intellectual pleasures with the unchangeableness of the knowledge from which they are derived. neither do we like to admit that the pleasures of knowledge, though more elevating, are not more lasting than other pleasures, and are almost equally dependent on the accidents of our bodily state (cp. introduction to philebus). . the number of the interval which separates the king from the tyrant, and royal from tyrannical pleasures, is , the cube of . which plato characteristically designates as a number concerned with human life, because _nearly_ equivalent to the number of days and nights in the year. he is desirous of proclaiming that the interval between them is immeasurable, and invents a formula to give expression to his idea. those who spoke of justice as a cube, of virtue as an art of measuring (prot. a), saw no inappropriateness in conceiving the soul under the figure of a line, or the pleasure of the tyrant as separated from the {cxlv} pleasure of the king by the numerical interval of . and in modern times we sometimes use metaphorically what plato employed as a philosophical formula. 'it is not easy to estimate the loss of the tyrant, except perhaps in this way,' says plato. so we might say, that although the life of a good man is not to be compared to that of a bad man, yet you may measure the difference between them by valuing one minute of the one at an hour of the other ('one day in thy courts is better than a thousand'), or you might say that 'there is an infinite difference.' but this is not so much as saying, in homely phrase, 'they are a thousand miles asunder.' and accordingly plato finds the natural vehicle of his thoughts in a progression of numbers; this arithmetical formula he draws out with the utmost seriousness, and both here and in the number of generation seems to find an additional proof of the truth of his speculation in forming the number into a geometrical figure; just as persons in our own day are apt to fancy that a statement is verified when it has been only thrown into an abstract form. in speaking of the number as proper to human life, he probably intended to intimate that one year of the tyrannical = hours of the royal life. the simple observation that the comparison of two similar solids is effected by the comparison of the cubes of their sides, is the mathematical groundwork of this fanciful expression. there is some difficulty in explaining the steps by which the number is obtained; the oligarch is removed in the third degree from the royal and aristocratical, and the tyrant in the third degree from the oligarchical; but we have to arrange the terms as the sides of a square and to count the oligarch twice over, thus reckoning them not as = but as = . the square of is passed lightly over as only a step towards the cube. . towards the close of the republic, plato seems to be more and more convinced of the ideal character of his own speculations. at the end of the th book the pattern which is in heaven takes the place of the city of philosophers on earth. the vision which has received form and substance at his hands, is now discovered to be at a distance. and yet this distant kingdom is also the rule of man's life (bk. vii. e). ('say not lo! here, or lo! there, for the kingdom of god is within you.') thus a note is struck which prepares for the revelation of a future {cxlvi} life in the following book. but the future life is present still; the ideal of politics is to be realized in the individual. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic x._ analysis.] book x. * * many things pleased me in the order of our state, but there was nothing which i liked better than the regulation about poetry. the division of the soul throws a new light on our exclusion of imitation. i do not mind telling you in confidence that all poetry is an outrage on the understanding, unless the hearers have that balm of knowledge which heals error. i have loved homer ever since i was a boy, and even now he appears to me to be the great master of tragic poetry. but much as i love the man, i love truth more, and therefore i must speak out: and first of all, will you explain what is imitation, for really i do not understand? 'how likely then that i should understand!' * * that might very well be, for the duller often sees better than the keener eye. 'true, but in your presence i can hardly venture to say what i think.' then suppose that we begin in our old fashion, with the doctrine of universals. let us assume the existence of beds and tables. there is one idea of a bed, or of a table, which the maker of each had in his mind when making them; he did not make the ideas of beds and tables, but he made beds and tables according to the ideas. and is there not a maker of the works of all workmen, who makes not only vessels but plants and animals, himself, the earth and heaven, and things in heaven and under the earth? he makes the gods also. 'he must be a wizard indeed!' but do you not see that there is a sense in which you could do the same? you have only to take a mirror, and catch the reflection of the sun, and the earth, or anything else--there now you have made them. 'yes, but only in appearance.' exactly so; and the painter is such a creator as you are with the mirror, and he is even more unreal than the carpenter; although neither the carpenter * * nor any other artist can be supposed to make the absolute bed. 'not if philosophers may be believed.' nor need we wonder that his bed has but an imperfect relation to the truth. reflect:--here are three beds; one in nature, which is made by god; another, which is made by the carpenter; and the third, by the painter. god only made one, nor could he have made more than one; for if there had been two, there {cxlvii} would always have been a third--more absolute and abstract than either, under which they would have been included. we may therefore conceive god to be the natural maker of the bed, and in a lower sense the carpenter is also the maker; but the painter is rather the imitator of what the other two make; he has to do with a creation which is thrice removed from reality. and the tragic poet is an imitator, and, like every other imitator, is thrice removed from the king and from the truth. the painter imitates not the original bed, * * but the bed made by the carpenter. and this, without being really different, appears to be different, and has many points of view, of which only one is caught by the painter, who represents everything because he represents a piece of everything, and that piece an image. and he can paint any other artist, although he knows nothing of their arts; and this with sufficient skill to deceive children or simple people. suppose now that somebody came to us and told us, how he had met a man who knew all that everybody knows, and better than anybody:--should we not infer him to be a simpleton who, having no discernment of truth and falsehood, had met with a wizard or enchanter, whom he fancied to be all-wise? and when we hear persons saying that homer and the tragedians know all the arts and all the virtues, must we not infer that they are under a similar delusion? * * they do not see that the poets are imitators, and that their creations are only imitations. 'very true.' but if a person could create as well as imitate, he would rather leave some permanent work and not an imitation only; he would rather be the receiver than the giver of praise? 'yes, for then he would have more honour and advantage.' let us now interrogate homer and the poets. friend homer, say i to him, i am not going to ask you about medicine, or any art to which your poems incidentally refer, but about their main subjects--war, military tactics, politics. if you are only twice and not thrice removed from the truth--not an imitator or an image-maker, please to inform us what good you have ever done to mankind? is there any city which professes to have received laws from you, as sicily and italy have from charondas, * * sparta from lycurgus, athens from solon? or was any war ever carried on by your counsels? or is any invention attributed to you, as there is to thales and anacharsis? or is there any {cxlviii} homeric way of life, such as the pythagorean was, in which you instructed men, and which is called after you? 'no, indeed; and creophylus [flesh-child] was even more unfortunate in his breeding than he was in his name, if, as tradition says, homer in his lifetime was allowed by him and his other friends to starve.' yes, but could this ever have happened if homer had really been the educator of hellas? would he not have had many devoted followers? if protagoras and prodicus can persuade their contemporaries that no one can manage house or state without them, is it likely that homer and hesiod would have been allowed to go about as beggars--i mean if they had really been able to do the world any good?--would not men have compelled them to stay where they were, or have followed them about in order to get education? but they did not; and therefore we may infer that homer and all the poets are only imitators, who do but imitate the appearances of things. * * for as a painter by a knowledge of figure and colour can paint a cobbler without any practice in cobbling, so the poet can delineate any art in the colours of language, and give harmony and rhythm to the cobbler and also to the general; and you know how mere narration, when deprived of the ornaments of metre, is like a face which has lost the beauty of youth and never had any other. once more, the imitator has no knowledge of reality, but only of appearance. the painter paints, and the artificer makes a bridle and reins, but neither understands the use of them--the knowledge of this is confined to the horseman; and so of other things. thus we have three arts: one of use, another of invention, a third of imitation; and the user furnishes the rule to the two others. the flute-player will know the good and bad flute, and the maker will put faith in him; but * * the imitator will neither know nor have faith--neither science nor true opinion can be ascribed to him. imitation, then, is devoid of knowledge, being only a kind of play or sport, and the tragic and epic poets are imitators in the highest degree. and now let us enquire, what is the faculty in man which answers to imitation. allow me to explain my meaning: objects are differently seen when in the water and when out of the water, when near and when at a distance; and the painter or juggler makes use of this variation to impose upon us. and {cxlix} the art of measuring and weighing and calculating comes in to save our bewildered minds from the power of appearance; for, as we were saying, * * two contrary opinions of the same about the same and at the same time, cannot both of them be true. but which of them is true is determined by the art of calculation; and this is allied to the better faculty in the soul, as the arts of imitation are to the worse. and the same holds of the ear as well as of the eye, of poetry as well as painting. the imitation is of actions voluntary or involuntary, in which there is an expectation of a good or bad result, and present experience of pleasure and pain. but is a man in harmony with himself when he is the subject of these conflicting influences? is there not rather a contradiction in him? let me further ask, whether * * he is more likely to control sorrow when he is alone or when he is in company. 'in the latter case.' feeling would lead him to indulge his sorrow, but reason and law control him and enjoin patience; since he cannot know whether his affliction is good or evil, and no human thing is of any great consequence, while sorrow is certainly a hindrance to good counsel. for when we stumble, we should not, like children, make an uproar; we should take the measures which reason prescribes, not raising a lament, but finding a cure. and the better part of us is ready to follow reason, while the irrational principle is full of sorrow and distraction at the recollection of our troubles. unfortunately, however, this latter furnishes the chief materials of the imitative arts. whereas reason is ever in repose and cannot easily be displayed, especially to a mixed multitude who have no experience of her. * * thus the poet is like the painter in two ways: first he paints an inferior degree of truth, and secondly, he is concerned with an inferior part of the soul. he indulges the feelings, while he enfeebles the reason; and we refuse to allow him to have authority over the mind of man; for he has no measure of greater and less, and is a maker of images and very far gone from truth. but we have not yet mentioned the heaviest count in the indictment--the power which poetry has of injuriously exciting the feelings. when we hear some passage in which a hero laments his sufferings at tedious length, you know that we sympathize with him and praise the poet; and yet in our own {cl} sorrows such an exhibition of feeling is regarded as effeminate and unmanly (cp. ion, e). now, ought a man to feel pleasure in seeing another do what he hates and abominates in himself? * * is he not giving way to a sentiment which in his own case he would control?--he is off his guard because the sorrow is another's; and he thinks that he may indulge his feelings without disgrace, and will be the gainer by the pleasure. but the inevitable consequence is that he who begins by weeping at the sorrows of others, will end by weeping at his own. the same is true of comedy,--you may often laugh at buffoonery which you would be ashamed to utter, and the love of coarse merriment on the stage will at last turn you into a buffoon at home. poetry feeds and waters the passions and desires; she lets them rule instead of ruling them. and therefore, when we hear the encomiasts of homer affirming that he is the educator of hellas, * * and that all life should be regulated by his precepts, we may allow the excellence of their intentions, and agree with them in thinking homer a great poet and tragedian. but we shall continue to prohibit all poetry which goes beyond hymns to the gods and praises of famous men. not pleasure and pain, but law and reason shall rule in our state. these are our grounds for expelling poetry; but lest she should charge us with discourtesy, let us also make an apology to her. we will remind her that there is an ancient quarrel between poetry and philosophy, of which there are many traces in the writings of the poets, such as the saying of 'the she-dog, yelping at her mistress,' and 'the philosophers who are ready to circumvent zeus,' and 'the philosophers who are paupers.' nevertheless we bear her no ill-will, and will gladly allow her to return upon condition that she makes a defence of herself in verse; and her supporters who are not poets may speak in prose. we confess her charms; but if she cannot show that she is useful as well as delightful, like rational lovers, we must renounce our love, though endeared to us by early associations. * * having come to years of discretion, we know that poetry is not truth, and that a man should be careful how he introduces her to that state or constitution which he himself is; for there is a mighty issue at stake--no less than the good or evil of a human soul. and it is not worth while to forsake justice and virtue {cli} for the attractions of poetry, any more than for the sake of honour or wealth. 'i agree with you.' and yet the rewards of virtue are greater far than i have described. 'and can we conceive things greater still?' not, perhaps, in this brief span of life: but should an immortal being care about anything short of eternity? 'i do not understand what you mean?' do you not know that the soul is immortal? 'surely you are not prepared to prove that?' indeed i am. 'then let me hear this argument, of which you make so light.' * * you would admit that everything has an element of good and of evil. in all things there is an inherent corruption; and if this cannot destroy them, nothing else will. the soul too has her own corrupting principles, which are injustice, intemperance, cowardice, and the like. but none of these destroy the soul in the same sense that disease destroys the body. the soul may be full of all iniquities, but is not, by reason of them, brought any nearer to death. nothing which was not destroyed from within ever perished by external affection of evil. the body, which is one thing, * * cannot be destroyed by food, which is another, unless the badness of the food is communicated to the body. neither can the soul, which is one thing, be corrupted by the body, which is another, unless she herself is infected. and as no bodily evil can infect the soul, neither can any bodily evil, whether disease or violence, or any other destroy the soul, unless it can be shown to render her unholy and unjust. but no one will ever prove that the souls of men become more unjust when they die. if a person has the audacity to say the contrary, the answer is--then why do criminals require the hand of the executioner, and not die of themselves? 'truly,' he said, 'injustice would not be very terrible if it brought a cessation of evil; but i rather believe that the injustice which murders others may tend to quicken and stimulate the life of the unjust.' you are quite right. if sin which is her own natural and inherent evil cannot destroy the soul, hardly will anything else destroy her. * * but the soul which cannot be destroyed either by internal or external evil must be immortal and everlasting. and if this be true, souls will always exist in the same number. they cannot diminish, because they cannot be destroyed; nor yet increase, for the increase of the immortal must come from something {clii} mortal, and so all would end in immortality. neither is the soul variable and diverse; for that which is immortal must be of the fairest and simplest composition. if we would conceive her truly, and so behold justice and injustice in their own nature, she must be viewed by the light of reason pure as at birth, or as she is reflected in philosophy when holding converse with the divine and immortal and eternal. in her present condition we see her only like the sea-god glaucus, bruised and maimed in the sea which is the world, * * and covered with shells and stones which are incrusted upon her from the entertainments of earth. thus far, as the argument required, we have said nothing of the rewards and honours which the poets attribute to justice; we have contented ourselves with showing that justice in herself is best for the soul in herself, even if a man should put on a gyges' ring and have the helmet of hades too. and now you shall repay me what you borrowed; and i will enumerate the rewards of justice in life and after death. i granted, for the sake of argument, as you will remember, that evil might perhaps escape the knowledge of gods and men, although this was really impossible. and since i have shown that justice has reality, you must grant me also that she has the palm of appearance. in the first place, the just man is known to the gods, * * and he is therefore the friend of the gods, and he will receive at their hands every good, always excepting such evil as is the necessary consequence of former sins. all things end in good to him, either in life or after death, even what appears to be evil; for the gods have a care of him who desires to be in their likeness. and what shall we say of men? is not honesty the best policy? the clever rogue makes a great start at first, but breaks down before he reaches the goal, and slinks away in dishonour; whereas the true runner perseveres to the end, and receives the prize. and you must allow me to repeat all the blessings which you attributed to the fortunate unjust--they bear rule in the city, they marry and give in marriage to whom they will; and the evils which you attributed to the unfortunate just, do really fall in the end on the unjust, although, as you implied, their sufferings are better veiled in silence. * * but all the blessings of this present life are as nothing when {cliii} compared with those which await good men after death. 'i should like to hear about them.' come, then, and i will tell you the story of er, the son of armenius, a valiant man. he was supposed to have died in battle, but ten days afterwards his body was found untouched by corruption and sent home for burial. on the twelfth day he was placed on the funeral pyre and there he came to life again, and told what he had seen in the world below. he said that his soul went with a great company to a place, in which there were two chasms near together in the earth beneath, and two corresponding chasms in the heaven above. and there were judges sitting in the intermediate space, bidding the just ascend by the heavenly way on the right hand, having the seal of their judgment set upon them before, while the unjust, having the seal behind, were bidden to descend by the way on the left hand. him they told to look and listen, as he was to be their messenger to men from the world below. and he beheld and saw the souls departing after judgment at either chasm; some who came from earth, were worn and travel-stained; others, who came from heaven, were clean and bright. they seemed glad to meet and rest awhile in the meadow; here they discoursed with one another of what they had seen in the other world. * * those who came from earth wept at the remembrance of their sorrows, but the spirits from above spoke of glorious sights and heavenly bliss. he said that for every evil deed they were punished tenfold--now the journey was of a thousand years' duration, because the life of man was reckoned as a hundred years--and the rewards of virtue were in the same proportion. he added something hardly worth repeating about infants dying almost as soon as they were born. of parricides and other murderers he had tortures still more terrible to narrate. he was present when one of the spirits asked--where is ardiaeus the great? (this ardiaeus was a cruel tyrant, who had murdered his father, and his elder brother, a thousand years before.) another spirit answered, 'he comes not hither, and will never come. and i myself,' he added, 'actually saw this terrible sight. at the entrance of the chasm, as we were about to reascend, ardiaeus appeared, and some other sinners--most of whom had been tyrants, but not all--and just as they fancied that they were returning to life, the chasm gave a roar, * * and then wild, fiery-looking men who knew the {cliv} meaning of the sound, seized him and several others, and bound them hand and foot and threw them down, and dragged them along at the side of the road, lacerating them and carding them like wool, and explaining to the passers-by, that they were going to be cast into hell.' the greatest terror of the pilgrims ascending was lest they should hear the voice, and when there was silence one by one they passed up with joy. to these sufferings there were corresponding delights. on the eighth day the souls of the pilgrims resumed their journey, and in four days came to a spot whence they looked down upon a line of light, in colour like a rainbow, only brighter and clearer. one day more brought them to the place, and they saw that this was the column of light which binds together the whole universe. the ends of the column were fastened to heaven, and from them hung the distaff of necessity, on which all the heavenly bodies turned--the hook and spindle were of adamant, and the whorl of a mixed substance. the whorl was in form like a number of boxes fitting into one another with their edges turned upwards, making together a single whorl which was pierced by the spindle. the outermost had the rim broadest, and the inner whorls were smaller and smaller, and had their rims narrower. the largest (the fixed stars) was spangled--the seventh (the sun) was brightest--the eighth (the moon) shone by the light of the seventh-- * * the second and fifth (saturn and mercury) were most like one another and yellower than the eighth--the third (jupiter) had the whitest light--the fourth (mars) was red--the sixth (venus) was in whiteness second. the whole had one motion, but while this was revolving in one direction the seven inner circles were moving in the opposite, with various degrees of swiftness and slowness. the spindle turned on the knees of necessity, and a siren stood hymning upon each circle, while lachesis, clotho, and atropos, the daughters of necessity, sat on thrones at equal intervals, singing of past, present, and future, responsive to the music of the sirens; clotho from time to time guiding the outer circle with a touch of her right hand; atropos with her left hand touching and guiding the inner circles; lachesis in turn putting forth her hand from time to time to guide both of them. on their arrival the pilgrims went to lachesis, and there was an interpreter who arranged them, and taking from her {clv} knees lots, and samples of lives, got up into a pulpit and said: 'mortal souls, hear the words of lachesis, the daughter of necessity. a new period of mortal life has begun, and you may choose what divinity you please; the responsibility of choosing is with you--god is blameless.' * * after speaking thus, he cast the lots among them and each one took up the lot which fell near him. he then placed on the ground before them the samples of lives, many more than the souls present; and there were all sorts of lives, of men and of animals. there were tyrannies ending in misery and exile, and lives of men and women famous for their different qualities; and also mixed lives, made up of wealth and poverty, sickness and health. here, glaucon, is the great risk of human life, and therefore the whole of education should be directed to the acquisition of such a knowledge as will teach a man to refuse the evil and choose the good. he should know all the combinations which occur in life--of beauty with poverty or with wealth,--of knowledge with external goods,--and at last choose with reference to the nature of the soul, regarding that only as the better life which makes men better, and leaving the rest. and * * a man must take with him an iron sense of truth and right into the world below, that there too he may remain undazzled by wealth or the allurements of evil, and be determined to avoid the extremes and choose the mean. for this, as the messenger reported the interpreter to have said, is the true happiness of man; and any one, as he proclaimed, may, if he choose with understanding, have a good lot, even though he come last. 'let not the first be careless in his choice, nor the last despair.' he spoke; and when he had spoken, he who had drawn the first lot chose a tyranny: he did not see that he was fated to devour his own children--and when he discovered his mistake, he wept and beat his breast, blaming chance and the gods and anybody rather than himself. he was one of those who had come from heaven, and in his previous life had been a citizen of a well-ordered state, but he had only habit and no philosophy. like many another, he made a bad choice, because he had no experience of life; whereas those who came from earth and had seen trouble were not in such a hurry to choose. but if a man had followed philosophy while upon earth, and had been moderately fortunate in his lot, he might not only be happy here, but his pilgrimage both from and {clvi} to this world would be smooth and heavenly. nothing was more curious than the spectacle of the choice, at once sad and laughable and wonderful; most of the souls only seeking to avoid their own condition in a previous life. * * he saw the soul of orpheus changing into a swan because he would not be born of a woman; there was thamyras becoming a nightingale; musical birds, like the swan, choosing to be men; the twentieth soul, which was that of ajax, preferring the life of a lion to that of a man, in remembrance of the injustice which was done to him in the judgment of the arms; and agamemnon, from a like enmity to human nature, passing into an eagle. about the middle was the soul of atalanta choosing the honours of an athlete, and next to her epeus taking the nature of a workwoman; among the last was thersites, who was changing himself into a monkey. thither, the last of all, came odysseus, and sought the lot of a private man, which lay neglected and despised, and when he found it he went away rejoicing, and said that if he had been first instead of last, his choice would have been the same. men, too, were seen passing into animals, and wild and tame animals changing into one another. when all the souls had chosen they went to lachesis, who sent with each of them their genius or attendant to fulfil their lot. he first of all brought them under the hand of clotho, and drew them within the revolution of the spindle impelled by her hand; from her they were carried to atropos, who made the threads irreversible; * * whence, without turning round, they passed beneath the throne of necessity; and when they had all passed, they moved on in scorching heat to the plain of forgetfulness and rested at evening by the river unmindful, whose water could not be retained in any vessel; of this they had all to drink a certain quantity--some of them drank more than was required, and he who drank forgot all things. er himself was prevented from drinking. when they had gone to rest, about the middle of the night there were thunderstorms and earthquakes, and suddenly they were all driven divers ways, shooting like stars to their birth. concerning his return to the body, he only knew that awaking suddenly in the morning he found himself lying on the pyre. thus, glaucon, the tale has been saved, and will be our salvation, if we believe that the soul is immortal, and hold fast to the {clvii} heavenly way of justice and knowledge. so shall we pass undefiled over the river of forgetfulness, and be dear to ourselves and to the gods, and have a crown of reward and happiness both in this world and also in the millennial pilgrimage of the other. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic x._ introduction.] the tenth book of the republic of plato falls into two divisions: first, resuming an old thread which has been interrupted, socrates assails the poets, who, now that the nature of the soul has been analyzed, are seen to be very far gone from the truth; and secondly, having shown the reality of the happiness of the just, he demands that appearance shall be restored to him, and then proceeds to prove the immortality of the soul. the argument, as in the phaedo and gorgias, is supplemented by the vision of a future life. * * * * * why plato, who was himself a poet, and whose dialogues are poems and dramas, should have been hostile to the poets as a class, and especially to the dramatic poets; why he should not have seen that truth may be embodied in verse as well as in prose, and that there are some indefinable lights and shadows of human life which can only be expressed in poetry--some elements of imagination which always entwine with reason; why he should have supposed epic verse to be inseparably associated with the impurities of the old hellenic mythology; why he should try homer and hesiod by the unfair and prosaic test of utility,--are questions which have always been debated amongst students of plato. though unable to give a complete answer to them, we may show--first, that his views arose naturally out of the circumstances of his age; and secondly, we may elicit the truth as well as the error which is contained in them. he is the enemy of the poets because poetry was declining in his own lifetime, and a theatrocracy, as he says in the laws (iii. a), had taken the place of an intellectual aristocracy. euripides exhibited the last phase of the tragic drama, and in him plato saw the friend and apologist of tyrants, and the sophist of tragedy. the old comedy was almost extinct; the new had not yet arisen. dramatic and lyric poetry, like every other branch of greek literature, was falling under the power of rhetoric. there was no 'second or third' to Æschylus and {clviii} sophocles in the generation which followed them. aristophanes, in one of his later comedies (frogs, foll.), speaks of 'thousands of tragedy-making prattlers,' whose attempts at poetry he compares to the chirping of swallows; 'their garrulity went far beyond euripides,'--'they appeared once upon the stage, and there was an end of them.' to a man of genius who had a real appreciation of the godlike Æschylus and the noble and gentle sophocles, though disagreeing with some parts of their 'theology' (rep. ii. ), these 'minor poets' must have been contemptible and intolerable. there is no feeling stronger in the dialogues of plato than a sense of the decline and decay both in literature and in politics which marked his own age. nor can he have been expected to look with favour on the licence of aristophanes, now at the end of his career, who had begun by satirizing socrates in the clouds, and in a similar spirit forty years afterwards had satirized the founders of ideal commonwealths in his eccleziazusae, or female parliament (cp. x. c, and laws ii. ff.; ). there were other reasons for the antagonism of plato to poetry. the profession of an actor was regarded by him as a degradation of human nature, for 'one man in his life' cannot 'play many parts;' the characters which the actor performs seem to destroy his own character, and to leave nothing which can be truly called himself. neither can any man live his life and act it. the actor is the slave of his art, not the master of it. taking this view plato is more decided in his expulsion of the dramatic than of the epic poets, though he must have known that the greek tragedians afforded noble lessons and examples of virtue and patriotism, to which nothing in homer can be compared. but great dramatic or even great rhetorical power is hardly consistent with firmness or strength of mind, and dramatic talent is often incidentally associated with a weak or dissolute character. in the tenth book plato introduces a new series of objections. first, he says that the poet or painter is an imitator, and in the third degree removed from the truth. his creations are not tested by rule and measure; they are only appearances. in modern times we should say that art is not merely imitation, but rather the expression of the ideal in forms of sense. even adopting the humble image of plato, from which his argument derives a colour, we should maintain that the artist {clix} may ennoble the bed which he paints by the folds of the drapery, or by the feeling of home which he introduces; and there have been modern painters who have imparted such an ideal interest to a blacksmith's or a carpenter's shop. the eye or mind which feels as well as sees can give dignity and pathos to a ruined mill, or a straw-built shed [rembrandt], to the hull of a vessel 'going to its last home' [turner]. still more would this apply to the greatest works of art, which seem to be the visible embodiment of the divine. had plato been asked whether the zeus or athene of pheidias was the imitation of an imitation only, would he not have been compelled to admit that something more was to be found in them than in the form of any mortal; and that the rule of proportion to which they conformed was 'higher far than any geometry or arithmetic could express?' (statesman, a.) again, plato objects to the imitative arts that they express the emotional rather than the rational part of human nature. he does not admit aristotle's theory, that tragedy or other serious imitations are a purgation of the passions by pity and fear; to him they appear only to afford the opportunity of indulging them. yet we must acknowledge that we may sometimes cure disordered emotions by giving expression to them; and that they often gain strength when pent up within our own breast. it is not every indulgence of the feelings which is to be condemned. for there may be a gratification of the higher as well as of the lower--thoughts which are too deep or too sad to be expressed by ourselves, may find an utterance in the words of poets. every one would acknowledge that there have been times when they were consoled and elevated by beautiful music or by the sublimity of architecture or by the peacefulness of nature. plato has himself admitted, in the earlier part of the republic, that the arts might have the effect of harmonizing as well as of enervating the mind; but in the tenth book he regards them through a stoic or puritan medium. he asks only 'what good have they done?' and is not satisfied with the reply, that 'they have given innocent pleasure to mankind.' he tells us that he rejoices in the banishment of the poets, since he has found by the analysis of the soul that they are concerned with the inferior faculties. he means to say that {clx} the higher faculties have to do with universals, the lower with particulars of sense. the poets are on a level with their own age, but not on a level with socrates and plato; and he was well aware that homer and hesiod could not be made a rule of life by any process of legitimate interpretation; his ironical use of them is in fact a denial of their authority; he saw, too, that the poets were not critics--as he says in the apology, 'any one was a better interpreter of their writings than they were themselves' ( c). he himself ceased to be a poet when he became a disciple of socrates; though, as he tells us of solon, 'he might have been one of the greatest of them, if he had not been deterred by other pursuits' (tim. c) thus from many points of view there is an antagonism between plato and the poets, which was foreshadowed to him in the old quarrel between philosophy and poetry. the poets, as he says in the protagoras ( e), were the sophists of their day; and his dislike of the one class is reflected on the other. he regards them both as the enemies of reasoning and abstraction, though in the case of euripides more with reference to his immoral sentiments about tyrants and the like. for plato is the prophet who 'came into the world to convince men'--first of the fallibility of sense and opinion, and secondly of the reality of abstract ideas. whatever strangeness there may be in modern times in opposing philosophy to poetry, which to us seem to have so many elements in common, the strangeness will disappear if we conceive of poetry as allied to sense, and of philosophy as equivalent to thought and abstraction. unfortunately the very word 'idea,' which to plato is expressive of the most real of all things, is associated in our minds with an element of subjectiveness and unreality. we may note also how he differs from aristotle who declares poetry to be truer than history, for the opposite reason, because it is concerned with universals, not like history, with particulars (poet. c. , ). the things which are seen are opposed in scripture to the things which are unseen--they are equally opposed in plato to universals and ideas. to him all particulars appear to be floating about in a world of sense; they have a taint of error or even of evil. there is no difficulty in seeing that this is an illusion; for there is no more error or variation in an individual man, horse, {clxi} bed, etc., than in the class man, horse, bed, etc.; nor is the truth which is displayed in individual instances less certain than that which is conveyed through the medium of ideas. but plato, who is deeply impressed with the real importance of universals as instruments of thought, attributes to them an essential truth which is imaginary and unreal; for universals may be often false and particulars true. had he attained to any clear conception of the individual, which is the synthesis of the universal and the particular; or had he been able to distinguish between opinion and sensation, which the ambiguity of the words [greek: do/xa, phai/nesthai, ei)ko\s] and the like, tended to confuse, he would not have denied truth to the particulars of sense. but the poets are also the representatives of falsehood and feigning in all departments of life and knowledge, like the sophists and rhetoricians of the gorgias and phaedrus; they are the false priests, false prophets, lying spirits, enchanters of the world. there is another count put into the indictment against them by plato, that they are the friends of the tyrant, and bask in the sunshine of his patronage. despotism in all ages has had an apparatus of false ideas and false teachers at its service--in the history of modern europe as well as of greece and rome. for no government of men depends solely upon force; without some corruption of literature and morals--some appeal to the imagination of the masses--some pretence to the favour of heaven--some element of good giving power to evil (cp. i. ), tyranny, even for a short time, cannot be maintained. the greek tyrants were not insensible to the importance of awakening in their cause a pseudo-hellenic feeling; they were proud of successes at the olympic games; they were not devoid of the love of literature and art. plato is thinking in the first instance of greek poets who had graced the courts of dionysius or archelaus: and the old spirit of freedom is roused within him at their prostitution of the tragic muse in the praises of tyranny. but his prophetic eye extends beyond them to the false teachers of other ages who are the creatures of the government under which they live. he compares the corruption of his contemporaries with the idea of a perfect society, and gathers up into one mass of evil the evils and errors of mankind; to him they are personified in the {clxii} rhetoricians, sophists, poets, rulers who deceive and govern the world. a further objection which plato makes to poetry and the imitative arts is that they excite the emotions. here the modern reader will be disposed to introduce a distinction which appears to have escaped him. for the emotions are neither bad nor good in themselves, and are not most likely to be controlled by the attempt to eradicate them, but by the moderate indulgence of them. and the vocation of art is to present thought in the form of feeling, to enlist the feelings on the side of reason, to inspire even for a moment courage or resignation; perhaps to suggest a sense of infinity and eternity in a way which mere language is incapable of attaining. true, the same power which in the purer age of art embodies gods and heroes only, may be made to express the voluptuous image of a corinthian courtezan. but this only shows that art, like other outward things, may be turned to good and also to evil, and is not more closely connected with the higher than with the lower part of the soul. all imitative art is subject to certain limitations, and therefore necessarily partakes of the nature of a compromise. something of ideal truth is sacrificed for the sake of the representation, and something in the exactness of the representation is sacrificed to the ideal. still, works of art have a permanent element; they idealize and detain the passing thought, and are the intermediates between sense and ideas. in the present stage of the human mind, poetry and other forms of fiction may certainly be regarded as a good. but we can also imagine the existence of an age in which a severer conception of truth has either banished or transformed them. at any rate we must admit that they hold a different place at different periods of the world's history. in the infancy of mankind, poetry, with the exception of proverbs, is the whole of literature, and the only instrument of intellectual culture; in modern times she is the shadow or echo of her former self, and appears to have a precarious existence. milton in his day doubted whether an epic poem was any longer possible. at the same time we must remember, that what plato would have called the charms of poetry have been partly transferred {clxiii} to prose; he himself (statesman ) admits rhetoric to be the handmaiden of politics, and proposes to find in the strain of law (laws vii. ) a substitute for the old poets. among ourselves the creative power seems often to be growing weaker, and scientific fact to be more engrossing and overpowering to the mind than formerly. the illusion of the feelings commonly called love, has hitherto been the inspiring influence of modern poetry and romance, and has exercised a humanizing if not a strengthening influence on the world. but may not the stimulus which love has given to fancy be some day exhausted? the modern english novel which is the most popular of all forms of reading is not more than a century or two old: will the tale of love a hundred years hence, after so many thousand variations of the same theme, be still received with unabated interest? art cannot claim to be on a level with philosophy or religion, and may often corrupt them. it is possible to conceive a mental state in which all artistic representations are regarded as a false and imperfect expression, either of the religious ideal or of the philosophical ideal. the fairest forms may be revolting in certain moods of mind, as is proved by the fact that the mahometans, and many sects of christians, have renounced the use of pictures and images. the beginning of a great religion, whether christian or gentile, has not been 'wood or stone,' but a spirit moving in the hearts of men. the disciples have met in a large upper room or in 'holes and caves of the earth'; in the second or third generation, they have had mosques, temples, churches, monasteries. and the revival or reform of religions, like the first revelation of them, has come from within and has generally disregarded external ceremonies and accompaniments. but poetry and art may also be the expression of the highest truth and the purest sentiment. plato himself seems to waver between two opposite views--when, as in the third book, he insists that youth should be brought up amid wholesome imagery; and again in book x, when he banishes the poets from his republic. admitting that the arts, which some of us almost deify, have fallen short of their higher aim, we must admit on the other hand that to banish imagination wholly would be suicidal {clxiv} as well as impossible. for nature too is a form of art; and a breath of the fresh air or a single glance at the varying landscape would in an instant revive and reillumine the extinguished spark of poetry in the human breast. in the lower stages of civilization imagination more than reason distinguishes man from the animals; and to banish art would be to banish thought, to banish language, to banish the expression of all truth. no religion is wholly devoid of external forms; even the mahometan who renounces the use of pictures and images has a temple in which he worships the most high, as solemn and beautiful as any greek or christian building. feeling too and thought are not really opposed; for he who thinks must feel before he can execute. and the highest thoughts, when they become familiarized to us, are always tending to pass into the form of feeling. plato does not seriously intend to expel poets from life and society. but he feels strongly the unreality of their writings; he is protesting against the degeneracy of poetry in his own day as we might protest against the want of serious purpose in modern fiction, against the unseemliness or extravagance of some of our poets or novelists, against the time-serving of preachers or public writers, against the regardlessness of truth which to the eye of the philosopher seems to characterize the greater part of the world. for we too have reason to complain that our poets and novelists 'paint inferior truth' and 'are concerned with the inferior part of the soul'; that the readers of them become what they read and are injuriously affected by them. and we look in vain for that healthy atmosphere of which plato speaks,--'the beauty which meets the sense like a breeze and imperceptibly draws the soul, even in childhood, into harmony with the beauty of reason.' for there might be a poetry which would be the hymn of divine perfection, the harmony of goodness and truth among men: a strain which should renew the youth of the world, and bring back the ages in which the poet was man's only teacher and best friend,--which would find materials in the living present as well as in the romance of the past, and might subdue to the fairest forms of speech and verse the intractable materials of modern civilisation,--which might elicit the simple principles, or, as plato {clxv} would have called them, the essential forms, of truth and justice out of the variety of opinion and the complexity of modern society,--which would preserve all the good of each generation and leave the bad unsung,--which should be based not on vain longings or faint imaginings, but on a clear insight into the nature of man. then the tale of love might begin again in poetry or prose, two in one, united in the pursuit of knowledge, or the service of god and man; and feelings of love might still be the incentive to great thoughts and heroic deeds as in the days of dante or petrarch; and many types of manly and womanly beauty might appear among us, rising above the ordinary level of humanity, and many lives which were like poems (laws vii. b), be not only written, but lived by us. a few such strains have been heard among men in the tragedies of Æeschylus and sophocles, whom plato quotes, not, as homer is quoted by him, in irony, but with deep and serious approval,--in the poetry of milton and wordsworth, and in passages of other english poets,--first and above all in the hebrew prophets and psalmists. shakespeare has taught us how great men should speak and act; he has drawn characters of a wonderful purity and depth; he has ennobled the human mind, but, like homer (rep. x. foll.), he 'has left no way of life.' the next greatest poet of modern times, goethe, is concerned with 'a lower degree of truth'; he paints the world as a stage on which 'all the men and women are merely players'; he cultivates life as an art, but he furnishes no ideals of truth and action. the poet may rebel against any attempt to set limits to his fancy; and he may argue truly that moralizing in verse is not poetry. possibly, like mephistopheles in faust, he may retaliate on his adversaries. but the philosopher will still be justified in asking, 'how may the heavenly gift of poesy be devoted to the good of mankind?' returning to plato, we may observe that a similar mixture of truth and error appears in other parts of the argument. he is aware of the absurdity of mankind framing their whole lives according to homer; just as in the phaedrus he intimates the absurdity of interpreting mythology upon rational principles; both these were the modern tendencies of his own age, which he deservedly ridicules. on the other hand, his argument that {clxvi} homer, if he had been able to teach mankind anything worth knowing, would not have been allowed by them to go about begging as a rhapsodist, is both false and contrary to the spirit of plato (cp. rep. vi. a foll.). it may be compared with those other paradoxes of the gorgias, that 'no statesman was ever unjustly put to death by the city of which he was the head'; and that 'no sophist was ever defrauded by his pupils' (gorg. foll.)...... the argument for immortality seems to rest on the absolute dualism of soul and body. admitting the existence of the soul, we know of no force which is able to put an end to her. vice is her own proper evil; and if she cannot be destroyed by that, she cannot be destroyed by any other. yet plato has acknowledged that the soul may be so overgrown by the incrustations of earth as to lose her original form; and in the timaeus he recognizes more strongly than in the republic the influence which the body has over the mind, denying even the voluntariness of human actions, on the ground that they proceed from physical states (tim. , ). in the republic, as elsewhere, he wavers between the original soul which has to be restored, and the character which is developed by training and education...... the vision of another world is ascribed to er, the son of armenius, who is said by clement of alexandria to have been zoroaster. the tale has certainly an oriental character, and may be compared with the pilgrimages of the soul in the zend avesta (cp. haug, avesta, p. ). but no trace of acquaintance with zoroaster is found elsewhere in plato's writings, and there is no reason for giving him the name of er the pamphylian. the philosophy of heracleitus cannot be shown to be borrowed from zoroaster, and still less the myths of plato. the local arrangement of the vision is less distinct than that of the phaedrus and phaedo. astronomy is mingled with symbolism and mythology; the great sphere of heaven is represented under the symbol of a cylinder or box, containing the seven orbits of the planets and the fixed stars; this is suspended from an axis or spindle which turns on the knees of necessity; the revolutions of the seven orbits contained in the cylinder are guided by the fates, and their harmonious motion produces {clxvii} the music of the spheres. through the innermost or eighth of these, which is the moon, is passed the spindle; but it is doubtful whether this is the continuation of the column of light, from which the pilgrims contemplate the heavens; the words of plato imply that they are connected, but not the same. the column itself is clearly not of adamant. the spindle (which is of adamant) is fastened to the ends of the chains which extend to the middle of the column of light--this column is said to hold together the heaven; but whether it hangs from the spindle, or is at right angles to it, is not explained. the cylinder containing the orbits of the stars is almost as much a symbol as the figure of necessity turning the spindle;--for the outermost rim is the sphere of the fixed stars, and nothing is said about the intervals of space which divide the paths of the stars in the heavens. the description is both a picture and an orrery, and therefore is necessarily inconsistent with itself. the column of light is not the milky way--which is neither straight, nor like a rainbow--but the imaginary axis of the earth. this is compared to the rainbow in respect not of form but of colour, and not to the undergirders of a trireme, but to the straight rope running from prow to stern in which the undergirders meet. the orrery or picture of the heavens given in the republic differs in its mode of representation from the circles of the same and of the other in the timaeus. in both the fixed stars are distinguished from the planets, and they move in orbits without them, although in an opposite direction: in the republic as in the timaeus ( b) they are all moving round the axis of the world. but we are not certain that in the former they are moving round the earth. no distinct mention is made in the republic of the circles of the same and other; although both in the timaeus and in the republic the motion of the fixed stars is supposed to coincide with the motion of the whole. the relative thickness of the rims is perhaps designed to express the relative distances of the planets. plato probably intended to represent the earth, from which er and his companions are viewing the heavens, as stationary in place; but whether or not herself revolving, unless this is implied in the revolution of the axis, is uncertain (cp. timaeus). the spectator {clxviii} may be supposed to look at the heavenly bodies, either from above or below. the earth is a sort of earth and heaven in one, like the heaven of the phaedrus, on the back of which the spectator goes out to take a peep at the stars and is borne round in the revolution. there is no distinction between the equator and the ecliptic. but plato is no doubt led to imagine that the planets have an opposite motion to that of the fixed stars, in order to account for their appearances in the heavens. in the description of the meadow, and the retribution of the good and evil after death, there are traces of homer. the description of the axis as a spindle, and of the heavenly bodies as forming a whole, partly arises out of the attempt to connect the motions of the heavenly bodies with the mythological image of the web, or weaving of the fates. the giving of the lots, the weaving of them, and the making of them irreversible, which are ascribed to the three fates--lachesis, clotho, atropos, are obviously derived from their names. the element of chance in human life is indicated by the order of the lots. but chance, however adverse, may be overcome by the wisdom of man, if he knows how to choose aright; there is a worse enemy to man than chance; this enemy is himself. he who was moderately fortunate in the number of the lot--even the very last comer--might have a good life if he chose with wisdom. and as plato does not like to make an assertion which is unproven, he more than confirms this statement a few sentences afterwards by the example of odysseus, who chose last. but the virtue which is founded on habit is not sufficient to enable a man to choose; he must add to virtue knowledge, if he is to act rightly when placed in new circumstances. the routine of good actions and good habits is an inferior sort of goodness; and, as coleridge says, 'common sense is intolerable which is not based on metaphysics,' so plato would have said, 'habit is worthless which is not based upon philosophy.' the freedom of the will to refuse the evil and to choose the good is distinctly asserted. 'virtue is free, and as a man honours or dishonours her he will have more or less of her.' the life of man is 'rounded' by necessity; there are circumstances prior to birth which affect him (cp. pol. b). but within the walls of necessity there is an open space in which he is his own master, {clxix} and can study for himself the effects which the variously compounded gifts of nature or fortune have upon the soul, and act accordingly. all men cannot have the first choice in everything. but the lot of all men is good enough, if they choose wisely and will live diligently. the verisimilitude which is given to the pilgrimage of a thousand years, by the intimation that ardiaeus had lived a thousand years before; the coincidence of er coming to life on the twelfth day after he was supposed to have been dead with the seven days which the pilgrims passed in the meadow, and the four days during which they journeyed to the column of light; the precision with which the soul is mentioned who chose the twentieth lot; the passing remarks that there was no definite character among the souls, and that the souls which had chosen ill blamed any one rather than themselves; or that some of the souls drank more than was necessary of the waters of forgetfulness, while er himself was hindered from drinking; the desire of odysseus to rest at last, unlike the conception of him in dante and tennyson; the feigned ignorance of how er returned to the body, when the other souls went shooting like stars to their birth,--add greatly to the probability of the narrative. they are such touches of nature as the art of defoe might have introduced when he wished to win credibility for marvels and apparitions. * * * * * [sidenote: _republic._ introduction.] there still remain to be considered some points which have been intentionally reserved to the end: (i) the janus-like character of the republic, which presents two faces--one an hellenic state, the other a kingdom of philosophers. connected with the latter of the two aspects are (ii) the paradoxes of the republic, as they have been termed by morgenstern: ([greek: a]) the community of property; ([greek: b]) of families; ([greek: g]) the rule of philosophers; ([greek: d]) the analogy of the individual and the state, which, like some other analogies in the republic, is carried too far. we may then proceed to consider (iii) the subject of education as conceived by plato, bringing together in a general view the education of youth and the education of after-life; (iv) we may note further some essential differences between ancient and modern politics which are suggested by the republic; {clxx} (v) we may compare the politicus and the laws; (vi) we may observe the influence exercised by plato on his imitators; and (vii) take occasion to consider the nature and value of political, and (viii) of religious ideals. i. plato expressly says that he is intending to found an hellenic state (book v. e). many of his regulations are characteristically spartan; such as the prohibition of gold and silver, the common meals of the men, the military training of the youth, the gymnastic exercises of the women. the life of sparta was the life of a camp (laws ii. e), enforced even more rigidly in time of peace than in war; the citizens of sparta, like plato's, were forbidden to trade--they were to be soldiers and not shopkeepers. nowhere else in greece was the individual so completely subjected to the state; the time when he was to marry, the education of his children, the clothes which he was to wear, the food which he was to eat, were all prescribed by law. some of the best enactments in the republic, such as the reverence to be paid to parents and elders, and some of the worst, such as the exposure of deformed children, are borrowed from the practice of sparta. the encouragement of friendships between men and youths, or of men with one another, as affording incentives to bravery, is also spartan; in sparta too a nearer approach was made than in any other greek state to equality of the sexes, and to community of property; and while there was probably less of licentiousness in the sense of immorality, the tie of marriage was regarded more lightly than in the rest of greece. the 'suprema lex' was the preservation of the family, and the interest of the state. the coarse strength of a military government was not favourable to purity and refinement; and the excessive strictness of some regulations seems to have produced a reaction. of all hellenes the spartans were most accessible to bribery; several of the greatest of them might be described in the words of plato as having a 'fierce secret longing after gold and silver.' though not in the strict sense communists, the principle of communism was maintained among them in their division of lands, in their common meals, in their slaves, and in the free use of one another's goods. marriage was a public institution: and the women were educated by the state, and sang and danced in public with the men. {clxxi} many traditions were preserved at sparta of the severity with which the magistrates had maintained the primitive rule of music and poetry; as in the republic of plato, the new-fangled poet was to be expelled. hymns to the gods, which are the only kind of music admitted into the ideal state, were the only kind which was permitted at sparta. the spartans, though an unpoetical race, were nevertheless lovers of poetry; they had been stirred by the elegiac strains of tyrtaeus, they had crowded around hippias to hear his recitals of homer; but in this they resembled the citizens of the timocratic rather than of the ideal state ( e). the council of elder men also corresponds to the spartan _gerousia_; and the freedom with which they are permitted to judge about matters of detail agrees with what we are told of that institution. once more, the military rule of not spoiling the dead or offering arms at the temples; the moderation in the pursuit of enemies; the importance attached to the physical well-being of the citizens; the use of warfare for the sake of defence rather than of aggression--are features probably suggested by the spirit and practice of sparta. to the spartan type the ideal state reverts in the first decline; and the character of the individual timocrat is borrowed from the spartan citizen. the love of lacedaemon not only affected plato and xenophon, but was shared by many undistinguished athenians; there they seemed to find a principle which was wanting in their own democracy. the [greek: eu)kosmi/a] of the spartans attracted them, that is to say, not the goodness of their laws, but the spirit of order and loyalty which prevailed. fascinated by the idea, citizens of athens would imitate the lacedaemonians in their dress and manners; they were known to the contemporaries of plato as 'the persons who had their ears bruised,' like the roundheads of the commonwealth. the love of another church or country when seen at a distance only, the longing for an imaginary simplicity in civilized times, the fond desire of a past which never has been, or of a future which never will be,--these are aspirations of the human mind which are often felt among ourselves. such feelings meet with a response in the republic of plato. but there are other features of the platonic republic, as, for example, the literary and philosophical education, and the grace {clxxii} and beauty of life, which are the reverse of spartan. plato wishes to give his citizens a taste of athenian freedom as well as of lacedaemonian discipline. his individual genius is purely athenian, although in theory he is a lover of sparta; and he is something more than either--he has also a true hellenic feeling. he is desirous of humanizing the wars of hellenes against one another; he acknowledges that the delphian god is the grand hereditary interpreter of all hellas. the spirit of harmony and the dorian mode are to prevail, and the whole state is to have an external beauty which is the reflex of the harmony within. but he has not yet found out the truth which he afterwards enunciated in the laws (i. d)--that he was a better legislator who made men to be of one mind, than he who trained them for war. the citizens, as in other hellenic states, democratic as well as aristocratic, are really an upper class; for, although no mention is made of slaves, the lower classes are allowed to fade away into the distance, and are represented in the individual by the passions. plato has no idea either of a social state in which all classes are harmonized, or of a federation of hellas or the world in which different nations or states have a place. his city is equipped for war rather than for peace, and this would seem to be justified by the ordinary condition of hellenic states. the myth of the earth-born men is an embodiment of the orthodox tradition of hellas, and the allusion to the four ages of the world is also sanctioned by the authority of hesiod and the poets. thus we see that the republic is partly founded on the ideal of the old greek _polis_, partly on the actual circumstances of hellas in that age. plato, like the old painters, retains the traditional form, and like them he has also a vision of a city in the clouds. there is yet another thread which is interwoven in the texture of the work; for the republic is not only a dorian state, but a pythagorean league. the 'way of life' which was connected with the name of pythagoras, like the catholic monastic orders, showed the power which the mind of an individual might exercise over his contemporaries, and may have naturally suggested to plato the possibility of reviving such 'mediaeval institutions.' the pythagoreans, like plato, enforced a rule of life and a moral and intellectual training. the influence ascribed to music, which to {clxxiii} us seems exaggerated, is also a pythagorean feature; it is not to be regarded as representing the real influence of music in the greek world. more nearly than any other government of hellas, the pythagorean league of three hundred was an aristocracy of virtue. for once in the history of mankind the philosophy of order or [greek: ko/smos], expressing and consequently enlisting on its side the combined endeavours of the better part of the people, obtained the management of public affairs and held possession of it for a considerable time (until about b.c. ). probably only in states prepared by dorian institutions would such a league have been possible. the rulers, like plato's [greek: phu/lakes], were required to submit to a severe training in order to prepare the way for the education of the other members of the community. long after the dissolution of the order, eminent pythagoreans, such as archytas of tarentum, retained their political influence over the cities of magna graecia. there was much here that was suggestive to the kindred spirit of plato, who had doubtless meditated deeply on the 'way of life of pythagoras' (rep. x. b) and his followers. slight traces of pythagoreanism are to be found in the mystical number of the state, in the number which expresses the interval between the king and the tyrant, in the doctrine of transmigration, in the music of the spheres, as well as in the great though secondary importance ascribed to mathematics in education. but as in his philosophy, so also in the form of his state, he goes far beyond the old pythagoreans. he attempts a task really impossible, which is to unite the past of greek history with the future of philosophy, analogous to that other impossibility, which has often been the dream of christendom, the attempt to unite the past history of europe with the kingdom of christ. nothing actually existing in the world at all resembles plato's ideal state; nor does he himself imagine that such a state is possible. this he repeats again and again; e.g. in the republic (ix. _sub fin._), or in the laws (book v. ), where, casting a glance back on the republic, he admits that the perfect state of communism and philosophy was impossible in his own age, though still to be retained as a pattern. the same doubt is implied in the earnestness with which he argues in the republic (v. d) that ideals are none the worse because they cannot be realized in fact, and {clxxiv} in the chorus of laughter, which like a breaking wave will, as he anticipates, greet the mention of his proposals; though like other writers of fiction, he uses all his art to give reality to his inventions. when asked how the ideal polity can come into being, he answers ironically, 'when one son of a king becomes a philosopher'; he designates the fiction of the earth-born men as 'a noble lie'; and when the structure is finally complete, he fairly tells you that his republic is a vision only, which in some sense may have reality, but not in the vulgar one of a reign of philosophers upon earth. it has been said that plato flies as well as walks, but this falls short of the truth; for he flies and walks at the same time, and is in the air and on firm ground in successive instants. niebuhr has asked a trifling question, which may be briefly noticed in this place--was plato a good citizen? if by this is meant, was he loyal to athenian institutions?--he can hardly be said to be the friend of democracy: but neither is he the friend of any other existing form of government; all of them he regarded as 'states of faction' (laws viii. c); none attained to his ideal of a voluntary rule over voluntary subjects, which seems indeed more nearly to describe democracy than any other; and the worst of them is tyranny. the truth is, that the question has hardly any meaning when applied to a great philosopher whose writings are not meant for a particular age and country, but for all time and all mankind. the decline of athenian politics was probably the motive which led plato to frame an ideal state, and the republic may be regarded as reflecting the departing glory of hellas. as well might we complain of st. augustine, whose great work 'the city of god' originated in a similar motive, for not being loyal to the roman empire. even a nearer parallel might be afforded by the first christians, who cannot fairly be charged with being bad citizens because, though 'subject to the higher powers,' they were looking forward to a city which is in heaven. ii. the idea of the perfect state is full of paradox when judged of according to the ordinary notions of mankind. the paradoxes of one age have been said to become the commonplaces of the next; but the paradoxes of plato are at least as paradoxical to us as they were to his contemporaries. the {clxxv} modern world has either sneered at them as absurd, or denounced them as unnatural and immoral; men have been pleased to find in aristotle's criticisms of them the anticipation of their own good sense. the wealthy and cultivated classes have disliked and also dreaded them; they have pointed with satisfaction to the failure of efforts to realize them in practice. yet since they are the thoughts of one of the greatest of human intelligences, and of one who had done most to elevate morality and religion, they seem to deserve a better treatment at our hands. we may have to address the public, as plato does poetry, and assure them that we mean no harm to existing institutions. there are serious errors which have a side of truth and which therefore may fairly demand a careful consideration: there are truths mixed with error of which we may indeed say, 'the half is better than the whole.' yet 'the half' may be an important contribution to the study of human nature. ([greek: a]) the first paradox is the community of goods, which is mentioned slightly at the end of the third book, and seemingly, as aristotle observes, is confined to the guardians; at least no mention is made of the other classes. but the omission is not of any real significance, and probably arises out of the plan of the work, which prevents the writer from entering into details. aristotle censures the community of property much in the spirit of modern political economy, as tending to repress industry, and as doing away with the spirit of benevolence. modern writers almost refuse to consider the subject, which is supposed to have been long ago settled by the common opinion of mankind. but it must be remembered that the sacredness of property is a notion far more fixed in modern than in ancient times. the world has grown older, and is therefore more conservative. primitive society offered many examples of land held in common, either by a tribe or by a township, and such may probably have been the original form of landed tenure. ancient legislators had invented various modes of dividing and preserving the divisions of land among the citizens; according to aristotle there were nations who held the land in common and divided the produce, and there were others who divided the land and stored the produce in common. the evils of debt and the inequality of property were far greater in ancient than in modern {clxxvi} times, and the accidents to which property was subject from war, or revolution, or taxation, or other legislative interference, were also greater. all these circumstances gave property a less fixed and sacred character. the early christians are believed to have held their property in common, and the principle is sanctioned by the words of christ himself, and has been maintained as a counsel of perfection in almost all ages of the church. nor have there been wanting instances of modern enthusiasts who have made a religion of communism; in every age of religious excitement notions like wycliffe's 'inheritance of grace' have tended to prevail. a like spirit, but fiercer and more violent, has appeared in politics. 'the preparation of the gospel of peace' soon becomes the red flag of republicanism. we can hardly judge what effect plato's views would have upon his own contemporaries; they would perhaps have seemed to them only an exaggeration of the spartan commonwealth. even modern writers would acknowledge that the right of private property is based on expediency, and may be interfered with in a variety of ways for the public good. any other mode of vesting property which was found to be more advantageous, would in time acquire the same basis of right; 'the most useful,' in plato's words, 'would be the most sacred.' the lawyers and ecclesiastics of former ages would have spoken of property as a sacred institution. but they only meant by such language to oppose the greatest amount of resistance to any invasion of the rights of individuals and of the church. when we consider the question, without any fear of immediate application to practice, in the spirit of plato's republic, are we quite sure that the received notions of property are the best? is the distribution of wealth which is customary in civilized countries the most favourable that can be conceived for the education and development of the mass of mankind? can 'the spectator of all time and all existence' be quite convinced that one or two thousand years hence, great changes will not have taken place in the rights of property, or even that the very notion of property, beyond what is necessary for personal maintenance, may not have disappeared? this was a distinction familiar to aristotle, though likely to be laughed at among ourselves. such a change would not be greater than some other changes through {clxxvii} which the world has passed in the transition from ancient to modern society, for example, the emancipation of the serfs in russia, or the abolition of slavery in america and the west indies; and not so great as the difference which separates the eastern village community from the western world. to accomplish such a revolution in the course of a few centuries, would imply a rate of progress not more rapid than has actually taken place during the last fifty or sixty years. the kingdom of japan underwent more change in five or six years than europe in five or six hundred. many opinions and beliefs which have been cherished among ourselves quite as strongly as the sacredness of property have passed away; and the most untenable propositions respecting the right of bequests or entail have been maintained with as much fervour as the most moderate. some one will be heard to ask whether a state of society can be final in which the interests of thousands are perilled on the life or character of a single person. and many will indulge the hope that our present condition may, after all, be only transitional, and may conduct to a higher, in which property, besides ministering to the enjoyment of the few, may also furnish the means of the highest culture to all, and will be a greater benefit to the public generally, and also more under the control of public authority. there may come a time when the saying, 'have i not a right to do what i will with my own?' will appear to be a barbarous relic of individualism;--when the possession of a part may be a greater blessing to each and all than the possession of the whole is now to any one. such reflections appear visionary to the eye of the practical statesman, but they are within the range of possibility to the philosopher. he can imagine that in some distant age or clime, and through the influence of some individual, the notion of common property may or might have sunk as deep into the heart of a race, and have become as fixed to them, as private property is to ourselves. he knows that this latter institution is not more than four or five thousand years old: may not the end revert to the beginning? in our own age even utopias affect the spirit of legislation, and an abstract idea may exercise a great influence on practical politics. the objections that would be generally urged against plato's community of property, are the old ones of aristotle, that motives {clxxviii} for exertion would be taken away, and that disputes would arise when each was dependent upon all. every man would produce as little and consume as much as he liked. the experience of civilized nations has hitherto been adverse to socialism. the effort is too great for human nature; men try to live in common, but the personal feeling is always breaking in. on the other hand it may be doubted whether our present notions of property are not conventional, for they differ in different countries and in different states of society. we boast of an individualism which is not freedom, but rather an artificial result of the industrial state of modern europe. the individual is nominally free, but he is also powerless in a world bound hand and foot in the chains of economic necessity. even if we cannot expect the mass of mankind to become disinterested, at any rate we observe in them a power of organization which fifty years ago would never have been suspected. the same forces which have revolutionized the political system of europe, may effect a similar change in the social and industrial relations of mankind. and if we suppose the influence of some good as well as neutral motives working in the community, there will be no absurdity in expecting that the mass of mankind having power, and becoming enlightened about the higher possibilities of human life, when they learn how much more is attainable for all than is at present the possession of a favoured few, may pursue the common interest with an intelligence and persistency which mankind have hitherto never seen. now that the world has once been set in motion, and is no longer held fast under the tyranny of custom and ignorance; now that criticism has pierced the veil of tradition and the past no longer overpowers the present,--the progress of civilization may be expected to be far greater and swifter than heretofore. even at our present rate of speed the point at which we may arrive in two or three generations is beyond the power of imagination to foresee. there are forces in the world which work, not in an arithmetical, but in a geometrical ratio of increase. education, to use the expression of plato, moves like a wheel with an ever-multiplying rapidity. nor can we say how great may be its influence, when it becomes universal,--when it has been inherited by many generations,--when it is freed from the trammels {clxxix} of superstition and rightly adapted to the wants and capacities of different classes of men and women. neither do we know how much more the co-operation of minds or of hands may be capable of accomplishing, whether in labour or in study. the resources of the natural sciences are not half-developed as yet; the soil of the earth, instead of growing more barren, may become many times more fertile than hitherto; the uses of machinery far greater, and also more minute than at present. new secrets of physiology may be revealed, deeply affecting human nature in its innermost recesses. the standard of health may be raised and the lives of men prolonged by sanitary and medical knowledge. there may be peace, there may be leisure, there may be innocent refreshments of many kinds. the ever-increasing power of locomotion may join the extremes of earth. there may be mysterious workings of the human mind, such as occur only at great crises of history. the east and the west may meet together, and all nations may contribute their thoughts and their experience to the common stock of humanity. many other elements enter into a speculation of this kind. but it is better to make an end of them. for such reflections appear to the majority far-fetched, and to men of science, commonplace. ([greek: b]) neither to the mind of plato nor of aristotle did the doctrine of community of property present at all the same difficulty, or appear to be the same violation of the common hellenic sentiment, as the community of wives and children. this paradox he prefaces by another proposal, that the occupations of men and women shall be the same, and that to this end they shall have a common training and education. male and female animals have the same pursuits--why not also the two sexes of man? but have we not here fallen into a contradiction? for we were saying that different natures should have different pursuits. how then can men and women have the same? and is not the proposal inconsistent with our notion of the division of labour?--these objections are no sooner raised than answered; for, according to plato, there is no organic difference between men and women, but only the accidental one that men beget and women bear children. following the analogy of the other animals, he contends that all natural gifts are scattered about indifferently among both sexes, though there may be a superiority of degree {clxxx} on the part of the men. the objection on the score of decency to their taking part in the same gymnastic exercises, is met by plato's assertion that the existing feeling is a matter of habit. that plato should have emancipated himself from the ideas of his own country and from the example of the east, shows a wonderful independence of mind. he is conscious that women are half the human race, in some respects the more important half (laws vi. b); and for the sake both of men and women he desires to raise the woman to a higher level of existence. he brings, not sentiment, but philosophy to bear upon a question which both in ancient and modern times has been chiefly regarded in the light of custom or feeling. the greeks had noble conceptions of womanhood in the goddesses athene and artemis, and in the heroines antigone and andromache. but these ideals had no counterpart in actual life. the athenian woman was in no way the equal of her husband; she was not the entertainer of his guests or the mistress of his house, but only his housekeeper and the mother of his children. she took no part in military or political matters; nor is there any instance in the later ages of greece of a woman becoming famous in literature. 'hers is the greatest glory who has the least renown among men,' is the historian's conception of feminine excellence. a very different ideal of womanhood is held up by plato to the world; she is to be the companion of the man, and to share with him in the toils of war and in the cares of government. she is to be similarly trained both in bodily and mental exercises. she is to lose as far as possible the incidents of maternity and the characteristics of the female sex. the modern antagonist of the equality of the sexes would argue that the differences between men and women are not confined to the single point urged by plato; that sensibility, gentleness, grace, are the qualities of women, while energy, strength, higher intelligence, are to be looked for in men. and the criticism is just: the differences affect the whole nature, and are not, as plato supposes, confined to a single point. but neither can we say how far these differences are due to education and the opinions of mankind, or physically inherited from the habits and opinions of former generations. women have been always taught, not exactly that they are slaves, but that they are in an inferior {clxxxi} position, which is also supposed to have compensating advantages; and to this position they have conformed. it is also true that the physical form may easily change in the course of generations through the mode of life; and the weakness or delicacy, which was once a matter of opinion, may become a physical fact. the characteristics of sex vary greatly in different countries and ranks of society, and at different ages in the same individuals. plato may have been right in denying that there was any ultimate difference in the sexes of man other than that which exists in animals, because all other differences may be conceived to disappear in other states of society, or under different circumstances of life and training. the first wave having been passed, we proceed to the second--community of wives and children. 'is it possible? is it desirable?' for as glaucon intimates, and as we far more strongly insist, 'great doubts may be entertained about both these points.' any free discussion of the question is impossible, and mankind are perhaps right in not allowing the ultimate bases of social life to be examined. few of us can safely enquire into the things which nature hides, any more than we can dissect our own bodies. still, the manner in which plato arrived at his conclusions should be considered. for here, as mr. grote has remarked, is a wonderful thing, that one of the wisest and best of men should have entertained ideas of morality which are wholly at variance with our own. and if we would do plato justice, we must examine carefully the character of his proposals. first, we may observe that the relations of the sexes supposed by him are the reverse of licentious: he seems rather to aim at an impossible strictness. secondly, he conceives the family to be the natural enemy of the state; and he entertains the serious hope that an universal brotherhood may take the place of private interests--an aspiration which, although not justified by experience, has possessed many noble minds. on the other hand, there is no sentiment or imagination in the connections which men and women are supposed by him to form; human beings return to the level of the animals, neither exalting to heaven, nor yet abusing the natural instincts. all that world of poetry and fancy which the passion of love has called forth in modern literature and romance would have been banished by plato. the arrangements {clxxxii} of marriage in the republic are directed to one object--the improvement of the race. in successive generations a great development both of bodily and mental qualities might be possible. the analogy of animals tends to show that mankind can within certain limits receive a change of nature. and as in animals we should commonly choose the best for breeding, and destroy the others, so there must be a selection made of the human beings whose lives are worthy to be preserved. we start back horrified from this platonic ideal, in the belief, first, that the higher feelings of humanity are far too strong to be crushed out; secondly, that if the plan could be carried into execution we should be poorly recompensed by improvements in the breed for the loss of the best things in life. the greatest regard for the weakest and meanest of human beings--the infant, the criminal, the insane, the idiot, truly seems to us one of the noblest results of christianity. we have learned, though as yet imperfectly, that the individual man has an endless value in the sight of god, and that we honour him when we honour the darkened and disfigured image of him (cp. laws xi. a). this is the lesson which christ taught in a parable when he said, 'their angels do always behold the face of my father which is in heaven.' such lessons are only partially realized in any age; they were foreign to the age of plato, as they have very different degrees of strength in different countries or ages of the christian world. to the greek the family was a religious and customary institution binding the members together by a tie inferior in strength to that of friendship, and having a less solemn and sacred sound than that of country. the relationship which existed on the lower level of custom, plato imagined that he was raising to the higher level of nature and reason; while from the modern and christian point of view we regard him as sanctioning murder and destroying the first principles of morality. the great error in these and similar speculations is that the difference between man and the animals is forgotten in them. the human being is regarded with the eye of a dog- or bird-fancier (v. a), or at best of a slave-owner; the higher or human qualities are left out. the breeder of animals aims chiefly at size or speed or strength; in a few cases at courage or temper; most often the fitness of the animal for food is the great desideratum. {clxxxiii} but mankind are not bred to be eaten, nor yet for their superiority in fighting or in running or in drawing carts. neither does the improvement of the human race consist merely in the increase of the bones and flesh, but in the growth and enlightenment of the mind. hence there must be 'a marriage of true minds' as well as of bodies, of imagination and reason as well as of lusts and instincts. men and women without feeling or imagination are justly called brutes; yet plato takes away these qualities and puts nothing in their place, not even the desire of a noble offspring, since parents are not to know their own children. the most important transaction of social life, he who is the idealist philosopher converts into the most brutal. for the pair are to have no relation to one another, except at the hymeneal festival; their children are not theirs, but the state's; nor is any tie of affection to unite them. yet here the analogy of the animals might have saved plato from a gigantic error, if he had 'not lost sight of his own illustration' (ii. d). for the 'nobler sort of birds and beasts' (v. a) nourish and protect their offspring and are faithful to one another. an eminent physiologist thinks it worth while 'to try and place life on a physical basis.' but should not life rest on the moral rather than upon the physical? the higher comes first, then the lower, first the human and rational, afterwards the animal. yet they are not absolutely divided; and in times of sickness or moments of self-indulgence they seem to be only different aspects of a common human nature which includes them both. neither is the moral the limit of the physical, but the expansion and enlargement of it,--the highest form which the physical is capable of receiving. as plato would say, the body does not take care of the body, and still less of the mind, but the mind takes care of both. in all human action not that which is common to man and the animals is the characteristic element, but that which distinguishes him from them. even if we admit the physical basis, and resolve all virtue into health of body '_la façon que notre sang circule_,' still on merely physical grounds we must come back to ideas. mind and reason and duty and conscience, under these or other names, are always reappearing. there cannot be health of body without health of mind; nor health of mind without the sense of duty and the love of truth (cp. charm. d, e). that the greatest of ancient philosophers should in his regulations {clxxxiv} about marriage have fallen into the error of separating body and mind, does indeed appear surprising. yet the wonder is not so much that plato should have entertained ideas of morality which to our own age are revolting, but that he should have contradicted himself to an extent which is hardly credible, falling in an instant from the heaven of idealism into the crudest animalism. rejoicing in the newly found gift of reflection, he appears to have thought out a subject about which he had better have followed the enlightened feeling of his own age. the general sentiment of hellas was opposed to his monstrous fancy. the old poets, and in later time the tragedians, showed no want of respect for the family, on which much of their religion was based. but the example of sparta, and perhaps in some degree the tendency to defy public opinion, seems to have misled him. he will make one family out of all the families of the state. he will select the finest specimens of men and women and breed from these only. yet because the illusion is always returning (for the animal part of human nature will from time to time assert itself in the disguise of philosophy as well as of poetry), and also because any departure from established morality, even where this is not intended, is apt to be unsettling, it may be worth while to draw out a little more at length the objections to the platonic marriage. in the first place, history shows that wherever polygamy has been largely allowed the race has deteriorated. one man to one woman is the law of god and nature. nearly all the civilized peoples of the world at some period before the age of written records, have become monogamists; and the step when once taken has never been retraced. the exceptions occurring among brahmins or mahometans or the ancient persians, are of that sort which may be said to prove the rule. the connexions formed between superior and inferior races hardly ever produce a noble offspring, because they are licentious; and because the children in such cases usually despise the mother and are neglected by the father who is ashamed of them. barbarous nations when they are introduced by europeans to vice die out; polygamist peoples either import and adopt children from other countries, or dwindle in numbers, or both. dynasties and aristocracies which have disregarded the laws of nature have decreased in numbers and degenerated in {clxxxv} stature; 'mariages de convenance' leave their enfeebling stamp on the offspring of them ((cp. king lear, act i. sc. ). the marriage of near relations, or the marrying in and in of the same family tends constantly to weakness or idiocy in the children, sometimes assuming the form as they grow older of passionate licentiousness. the common prostitute rarely has any offspring. by such unmistakable evidence is the authority of morality asserted in the relations of the sexes: and so many more elements enter into this 'mystery' than are dreamed of by plato and some other philosophers. recent enquirers have indeed arrived at the conclusion that among primitive tribes there existed a community of wives as of property, and that the captive taken by the spear was the only wife or slave whom any man was permitted to call his own. the partial existence of such customs among some of the lower races of man, and the survival of peculiar ceremonies in the marriages of some civilized nations, are thought to furnish a proof of similar institutions having been once universal. there can be no question that the study of anthropology has considerably changed our views respecting the first appearance of man upon the earth. we know more about the aborigines of the world than formerly, but our increasing knowledge shows above all things how little we know. with all the helps which written monuments afford, we do but faintly realize the condition of man two thousand or three thousand years ago. of what his condition was when removed to a distance , or , years, when the majority of mankind were lower and nearer the animals than any tribe now existing upon the earth, we cannot even entertain conjecture. plato (laws iii. foll.) and aristotle (metaph. xi. , §§ , ) may have been more right than we imagine in supposing that some forms of civilisation were discovered and lost several times over. if we cannot argue that all barbarism is a degraded civilization, neither can we set any limits to the depth of degradation to which the human race may sink through war, disease, or isolation. and if we are to draw inferences about the origin of marriage from the practice of barbarous nations, we should also consider the remoter analogy of the animals. many birds and animals, especially the carnivorous, have only one mate, and the love and care of offspring which seems to be natural is inconsistent {clxxxvi} with the primitive theory of marriage. if we go back to an imaginary state in which men were almost animals and the companions of them, we have as much right to argue from what is animal to what is human as from the barbarous to the civilized man. the record of animal life on the globe is fragmentary,--the connecting links are wanting and cannot be supplied; the record of social life is still more fragmentary and precarious. even if we admit that our first ancestors had no such institution as marriage, still the stages by which men passed from outer barbarism to the comparative civilization of china, assyria, and greece, or even of the ancient germans, are wholly unknown to us. such speculations are apt to be unsettling, because they seem to show that an institution which was thought to be a revelation from heaven, is only the growth of history and experience. we ask what is the origin of marriage, and we are told that like the right of property, after many wars and contests, it has gradually arisen out of the selfishness of barbarians. we stand face to face with human nature in its primitive nakedness. we are compelled to accept, not the highest, but the lowest account of the origin of human society. but on the other hand we may truly say that every step in human progress has been in the same direction, and that in the course of ages the idea of marriage and of the family has been more and more defined and consecrated. the civilized east is immeasurably in advance of any savage tribes; the greeks and romans have improved upon the east; the christian nations have been stricter in their views of the marriage relation than any of the ancients. in this as in so many other things, instead of looking back with regret to the past, we should look forward with hope to the future. we must consecrate that which we believe to be the most holy, and that 'which is the most holy will be the most useful.' there is more reason for maintaining the sacredness of the marriage tie, when we see the benefit of it, than when we only felt a vague religious horror about the violation of it. but in all times of transition, when established beliefs are being undermined, there is a danger that in the passage from the old to the new we may insensibly let go the moral principle, finding an excuse for listening to the voice of passion in the uncertainty of knowledge, or the {clxxxvii} fluctuations of opinion. and there are many persons in our own day who, enlightened by the study of anthropology, and fascinated by what is new and strange, some using the language of fear, others of hope, are inclined to believe that a time will come when through the self-assertion of women, or the rebellious spirit of children, by the analysis of human relations, or by the force of outward circumstances, the ties of family life may be broken or greatly relaxed. they point to societies in america and elsewhere which tend to show that the destruction of the family need not necessarily involve the overthrow of all morality. wherever we may think of such speculations, we can hardly deny that they have been more rife in this generation than in any other; and whither they are tending, who can predict? to the doubts and queries raised by these 'social reformers' respecting the relation of the sexes and the moral nature of man, there is a sufficient answer, if any is needed. the difference about them and us is really one of fact. they are speaking of man as they wish or fancy him to be, but we are speaking of him as he is. they isolate the animal part of his nature; we regard him as a creature having many sides, or aspects, moving between good and evil, striving to rise above himself and to become 'a little lower than the angels.' we also, to use a platonic formula, are not ignorant of the dissatisfactions and incompatibilities of family life, of the meannesses of trade, of the flatteries of one class of society by another, of the impediments which the family throws in the way of lofty aims and aspirations. but we are conscious that there are evils and dangers in the background greater still, which are not appreciated, because they are either concealed or suppressed. what a condition of man would that be, in which human passions were controlled by no authority, divine or human, in which there was no shame or decency, no higher affection overcoming or sanctifying the natural instincts, but simply a rule of health! is it for this that we are asked to throw away the civilization which is the growth of ages? for strength and health are not the only qualities to be desired; there are the more important considerations of mind and character and soul. we know how human nature may be degraded; we do not know how by artificial means any improvement in the breed can be effected. the problem is a complex one, for if we {clxxxviii} go back only four steps (and these at least enter into the composition of a child), there are commonly thirty progenitors to be taken into account. many curious facts, rarely admitting of proof, are told us respecting the inheritance of disease or character from a remote ancestor. we can trace the physical resemblances of parents and children in the same family-- 'sic oculos, sic ille manus, sic ora ferebat'; but scarcely less often the differences which distinguish children both from their parents and from one another. we are told of similar mental peculiarities running in families, and again of a tendency, as in the animals, to revert to a common or original stock. but we have a difficulty in distinguishing what is a true inheritance of genius or other qualities, and what is mere imitation or the result of similar circumstances. great men and great women have rarely had great fathers and mothers. nothing that we know of in the circumstances of their birth or lineage will explain their appearance. of the english poets of the last and two preceding centuries scarcely a descendant remains,--none have ever been distinguished. so deeply has nature hidden her secret, and so ridiculous is the fancy which has been entertained by some that we might in time by suitable marriage arrangements or, as plato would have said, 'by an ingenious system of lots,' produce a shakespeare or a milton. even supposing that we could breed men having the tenacity of bulldogs, or, like the spartans, 'lacking the wit to run away in battle,' would the world be any the better? many of the noblest specimens of the human race have been among the weakest physically. tyrtaeus or aesop, or our own newton, would have been exposed at sparta; and some of the fairest and strongest men and women have been among the wickedest and worst. not by the platonic device of uniting the strong and fair with the strong and fair, regardless of sentiment and morality, nor yet by his other device of combining dissimilar natures (statesman a), have mankind gradually passed from the brutality and licentiousness of primitive marriage to marriage christian and civilized. few persons would deny that we bring into the world an inheritance of mental and physical qualities derived first from our parents, or through them from some remoter ancestor, {clxxxix} secondly from our race, thirdly from the general condition of mankind into which we are born. nothing is commoner than the remark, that 'so and so is like his father or his uncle'; and an aged person may not unfrequently note a resemblance in a youth to a long-forgotten ancestor, observing that 'nature sometimes skips a generation.' it may be true also, that if we knew more about our ancestors, these similarities would be even more striking to us. admitting the facts which are thus described in a popular way, we may however remark that there is no method of difference by which they can be defined or estimated, and that they constitute only a small part of each individual. the doctrine of heredity may seem to take out of our hands the conduct of our own lives, but it is the idea, not the fact, which is really terrible to us. for what we have received from our ancestors is only a fraction of what we are, or may become. the knowledge that drunkenness or insanity has been prevalent in a family may be the best safeguard against their recurrence in a future generation. the parent will be most awake to the vices or diseases in his child of which he is most sensible within himself. the whole of life may be directed to their prevention or cure. the traces of consumption may become fainter, or be wholly effaced: the inherent tendency to vice or crime may be eradicated. and so heredity, from being a curse, may become a blessing. we acknowledge that in the matter of our birth, as in our nature generally, there are previous circumstances which affect us. but upon this platform of circumstances or within this wall of necessity, we have still the power of creating a life for ourselves by the informing energy of the human will. there is another aspect of the marriage question to which plato is a stranger. all the children born in his state are foundlings. it never occurred to him that the greater part of them, according to universal experience, would have perished. for children can only be brought up in families. there is a subtle sympathy between the mother and the child which cannot be supplied by other mothers, or by 'strong nurses one or more' (laws vii. e). if plato's 'pen' was as fatal as the crèches of paris, or the foundling hospital of dublin, more than nine-tenths of his children would have perished. there would have been no need to expose or put out of the way the weaklier children, for they would have {cxc} died of themselves. so emphatically does nature protest against the destruction of the family. what plato had heard or seen of sparta was applied by him in a mistaken way to his ideal commonwealth. he probably observed that both the spartan men and women were superior in form and strength to the other greeks; and this superiority he was disposed to attribute to the laws and customs relating to marriage. he did not consider that the desire of a noble offspring was a passion among the spartans, or that their physical superiority was to be attributed chiefly, not to their marriage customs, but to their temperance and training. he did not reflect that sparta was great, not in consequence of the relaxation of morality, but in spite of it, by virtue of a political principle stronger far than existed in any other grecian state. least of all did he observe that sparta did not really produce the finest specimens of the greek race. the genius, the political inspiration of athens, the love of liberty--all that has made greece famous with posterity, were wanting among the spartans. they had no themistocles, or pericles, or aeschylus, or sophocles, or socrates, or plato. the individual was not allowed to appear above the state; the laws were fixed, and he had no business to alter or reform them. yet whence has the progress of cities and nations arisen, if not from remarkable individuals, coming into the world we know not how, and from causes over which we have no control? something too much may have been said in modern times of the value of individuality. but we can hardly condemn too strongly a system which, instead of fostering the scattered seeds or sparks of genius and character, tends to smother and extinguish them. still, while condemning plato, we must acknowledge that neither christianity, nor any other form of religion and society, has hitherto been able to cope with this most difficult of social problems, and that the side from which plato regarded it is that from which we turn away. population is the most untameable force in the political and social world. do we not find, especially in large cities, that the greatest hindrance to the amelioration of the poor is their improvidence in marriage?--a small fault truly, if not involving endless consequences. there are whole countries too, such as india, or, nearer home, ireland, in which a {cxci} right solution of the marriage question seems to lie at the foundation of the happiness of the community. there are too many people on a given space, or they marry too early and bring into the world a sickly and half-developed offspring; or owing to the very conditions of their existence, they become emaciated and hand on a similar life to their descendants. but who can oppose the voice of prudence to the 'mightiest passions of mankind' (laws viii. c), especially when they have been licensed by custom and religion? in addition to the influences of education, we seem to require some new principles of right and wrong in these matters, some force of opinion, which may indeed be already heard whispering in private, but has never affected the moral sentiments of mankind in general. we unavoidably lose sight of the principle of utility, just in that action of our lives in which we have the most need of it. the influences which we can bring to bear upon this question are chiefly indirect. in a generation or two, education, emigration, improvements in agriculture and manufactures, may have provided the solution. the state physician hardly likes to probe the wound: it is beyond his art; a matter which he cannot safely let alone, but which he dare not touch: 'we do but skin and film the ulcerous place.' when again in private life we see a whole family one by one dropping into the grave under the ate of some inherited malady, and the parents perhaps surviving them, do our minds ever go back silently to that day twenty-five or thirty years before on which under the fairest auspices, amid the rejoicings of friends and acquaintances, a bride and bridegroom joined hands with one another? in making such a reflection we are not opposing physical considerations to moral, but moral to physical; we are seeking to make the voice of reason heard, which drives us back from the extravagance of sentimentalism on common sense. the late dr. combe is said by his biographer to have resisted the temptation to marriage, because he knew that he was subject to hereditary consumption. one who deserved to be called a man of genius, a friend of my youth, was in the habit of wearing a black ribbon on his wrist, in order to remind him that, being liable to outbreaks of insanity, he must not give way to the natural impulses of affection: he died unmarried in a {cxcii} lunatic asylum. these two little facts suggest the reflection that a very few persons have done from a sense of duty what the rest of mankind ought to have done under like circumstances, if they had allowed themselves to think of all the misery which they were about to bring into the world. if we could prevent such marriages without any violation of feeling or propriety, we clearly ought; and the prohibition in the course of time would be protected by a 'horror naturalis' similar to that which, in all civilized ages and countries, has prevented the marriage of near relations by blood. mankind would have been the happier, if some things which are now allowed had from the beginning been denied to them; if the sanction of religion could have prohibited practices inimical to health; if sanitary principles could in early ages have been invested with a superstitious awe. but, living as we do far on in the world's history, we are no longer able to stamp at once with the impress of religion a new prohibition. a free agent cannot have his fancies regulated by law; and the execution of the law would be rendered impossible, owing to the uncertainty of the cases in which marriage was to be forbidden. who can weigh virtue, or even fortune against health, or moral and mental qualities against bodily? who can measure probabilities against certainties? there has been some good as well as evil in the discipline of suffering; and there are diseases, such as consumption, which have exercised a refining and softening influence on the character. youth is too inexperienced to balance such nice considerations; parents do not often think of them, or think of them too late. they are at a distance and may probably be averted; change of place, a new state of life, the interests of a home may be the cure of them. so persons vainly reason when their minds are already made up and their fortunes irrevocably linked together. nor is there any ground for supposing that marriages are to any great extent influenced by reflections of this sort, which seem unable to make any head against the irresistible impulse of individual attachment. lastly, no one can have observed the first rising flood of the passions in youth, the difficulty of regulating them, and the effects on the whole mind and nature which follow from them, the stimulus which is given to them by the imagination, without feeling that there is something unsatisfactory in our method of {cxciii} treating them. that the most important influence on human life should be wholly left to chance or shrouded in mystery, and instead of being disciplined or understood, should be required to conform only to an external standard of propriety--cannot be regarded by the philosopher as a safe or satisfactory condition of human things. and still those who have the charge of youth may find a way by watchfulness, by affection, by the manliness and innocence of their own lives, by occasional hints, by general admonitions which every one can apply for himself, to mitigate this terrible evil which eats out the heart of individuals and corrupts the moral sentiments of nations. in no duty towards others is there more need of reticence and self-restraint. so great is the danger lest he who would be the counsellor of another should reveal the secret prematurely, lest he should get another too much into his power; or fix the passing impression of evil by demanding the confession of it. nor is plato wrong in asserting that family attachments may interfere with higher aims. if there have been some who 'to party gave up what was meant for mankind,' there have certainly been others who to family gave up what was meant for mankind or for their country. the cares of children, the necessity of procuring money for their support, the flatteries of the rich by the poor, the exclusiveness of caste, the pride of birth or wealth, the tendency of family life to divert men from the pursuit of the ideal or the heroic, are as lowering in our own age as in that of plato. and if we prefer to look at the gentle influences of home, the development of the affections, the amenities of society, the devotion of one member of a family for the good of the others, which form one side of the picture, we must not quarrel with him, or perhaps ought rather to be grateful to him, for having presented to us the reverse. without attempting to defend plato on grounds of morality, we may allow that there is an aspect of the world which has not unnaturally led him into error. we hardly appreciate the power which the idea of the state, like all other abstract ideas, exercised over the mind of plato. to us the state seems to be built up out of the family, or sometimes to be the framework in which family and social life is contained. but to plato in his present mood of mind the family {cxciv} is only a disturbing influence which, instead of filling up, tends to disarrange the higher unity of the state. no organization is needed except a political, which, regarded from another point of view, is a military one. the state is all-sufficing for the wants of man, and, like the idea of the church in later ages, absorbs all other desires and affections. in time of war the thousand citizens are to stand like a rampart impregnable against the world or the persian host; in time of peace the preparation for war and their duties to the state, which are also their duties to one another, take up their whole life and time. the only other interest which is allowed to them besides that of war, is the interest of philosophy. when they are too old to be soldiers they are to retire from active life and to have a second novitiate of study and contemplation. there is an element of monasticism even in plato's communism. if he could have done without children, he might have converted his republic into a religious order. neither in the laws (v. b), when the daylight of common sense breaks in upon him, does he retract his error. in the state of which he would be the founder, there is no marrying or giving in marriage: but because of the infirmity of mankind, he condescends to allow the law of nature to prevail. ([greek: g]) but plato has an equal, or, in his own estimation, even greater paradox in reserve, which is summed up in the famous text, 'until kings are philosophers or philosophers are kings, cities will never cease from ill.' and by philosophers he explains himself to mean those who are capable of apprehending ideas, especially the idea of good. to the attainment of this higher knowledge the second education is directed. through a process of training which has already made them good citizens they are now to be made good legislators. we find with some surprise (not unlike the feeling which aristotle in a well-known passage describes the hearers of plato's lectures as experiencing, when they went to a discourse on the idea of good, expecting to be instructed in moral truths, and received instead of them arithmetical and mathematical formulae) that plato does not propose for his future legislators any study of finance or law or military tactics, but only of abstract mathematics, as a preparation for the still more abstract conception of good. we ask, with aristotle, what is the use of a man knowing the idea of {cxcv} good, if he does not know what is good for this individual, this state, this condition of society? we cannot understand how plato's legislators or guardians are to be fitted for their work of statesmen by the study of the five mathematical sciences. we vainly search in plato's own writings for any explanation of this seeming absurdity. the discovery of a great metaphysical conception seems to ravish the mind with a prophetic consciousness which takes away the power of estimating its value. no metaphysical enquirer has ever fairly criticised his own speculations; in his own judgment they have been above criticism; nor has he understood that what to him seemed to be absolute truth may reappear in the next generation as a form of logic or an instrument of thought. and posterity have also sometimes equally misapprehended the real value of his speculations. they appear to them to have contributed nothing to the stock of human knowledge. the _idea_ of good is apt to be regarded by the modern thinker as an unmeaning abstraction; but he forgets that this abstraction is waiting ready for use, and will hereafter be filled up by the divisions of knowledge. when mankind do not as yet know that the world is subject to law, the introduction of the mere conception of law or design or final cause, and the far-off anticipation of the harmony of knowledge, are great steps onward. even the crude generalization of the unity of all things leads men to view the world with different eyes, and may easily affect their conception of human life and of politics, and also their own conduct and character (tim. a). we can imagine how a great mind like that of pericles might derive elevation from his intercourse with anaxagoras (phaedr. a). to be struggling towards a higher but unattainable conception is a more favourable intellectual condition than to rest satisfied in a narrow portion of ascertained fact. and the earlier, which have sometimes been the greater ideas of science, are often lost sight of at a later period. how rarely can we say of any modern enquirer in the magnificent language of plato, that 'he is the spectator of all time and of all existence!' nor is there anything unnatural in the hasty application of these vast metaphysical conceptions to practical and political life. in the first enthusiasm of ideas men are apt to see them {cxcvi} everywhere, and to apply them in the most remote sphere. they do not understand that the experience of ages is required to enable them to fill up 'the intermediate axioms.' plato himself seems to have imagined that the truths of psychology, like those of astronomy and harmonics, would be arrived at by a process of deduction, and that the method which he has pursued in the fourth book, of inferring them from experience and the use of language, was imperfect and only provisional. but when, after having arrived at the idea of good, which is the end of the science of dialectic, he is asked, what is the nature, and what are the divisions of the science? he refuses to answer, as if intending by the refusal to intimate that the state of knowledge which then existed was not such as would allow the philosopher to enter into his final rest. the previous sciences must first be studied, and will, we may add, continue to be studied tell the end of time, although in a sense different from any which plato could have conceived. but we may observe, that while he is aware of the vacancy of his own ideal, he is full of enthusiasm in the contemplation of it. looking into the orb of light, he sees nothing, but he is warmed and elevated. the hebrew prophet believed that faith in god would enable him to govern the world; the greek philosopher imagined that contemplation of the good would make a legislator. there is as much to be filled up in the one case as in the other, and the one mode of conception is to the israelite what the other is to the greek. both find a repose in a divine perfection, which, whether in a more personal or impersonal form, exists without them and independently of them, as well as within them. there is no mention of the idea of good in the timaeus, nor of the divine creator of the world in the republic; and we are naturally led to ask in what relation they stand to one another. is god above or below the idea of good? or is the idea of good another mode of conceiving god? the latter appears to be the truer answer. to the greek philosopher the perfection and unity of god was a far higher conception than his personality, which he hardly found a word to express, and which to him would have seemed to be borrowed from mythology. to the christian, on the other hand, or to the modern thinker in {cxcvii} general, it is difficult, if not impossible, to attach reality to what he terms mere abstraction; while to plato this very abstraction is the truest and most real of all things. hence, from a difference in forms of thought, plato appears to be resting on a creation of his own mind only. but if we may be allowed to paraphrase the idea of good by the words 'intelligent principle of law and order in the universe, embracing equally man and nature,' we begin to find a meeting-point between him and ourselves. the question whether the ruler or statesman should be a philosopher is one that has not lost interest in modern times. in most countries of europe and asia there has been some one in the course of ages who has truly united the power of command with the power of thought and reflection, as there have been also many false combinations of these qualities. some kind of speculative power is necessary both in practical and political life; like the rhetorician in the phaedrus, men require to have a conception of the varieties of human character, and to be raised on great occasions above the commonplaces of ordinary life. yet the idea of the philosopher-statesman has never been popular with the mass of mankind; partly because he cannot take the world into his confidence or make them understand the motives from which he acts; and also because they are jealous of a power which they do not understand. the revolution which human nature desires to effect step by step in many ages is likely to be precipitated by him in a single year or life. they are afraid that in the pursuit of his greater aims he may disregard the common feelings of humanity, he is too apt to be looking into the distant future or back into the remote past, and unable to see actions or events which, to use an expression of plato's 'are tumbling out at his feet.' besides, as plato would say, there are other corruptions of these philosophical statesmen. either 'the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,' and at the moment when action above all things is required he is undecided, or general principles are enunciated by him in order to cover some change of policy; or his ignorance of the world has made him more easily fall a prey to the arts of others; or in some cases he has been converted into a courtier, who enjoys {cxcviii} the luxury of holding liberal opinions, but was never known to perform a liberal action. no wonder that mankind have been in the habit of calling statesmen of this class pedants, sophisters, doctrinaires, visionaries. for, as we may be allowed to say, a little parodying the words of plato, 'they have seen bad imitations of the philosopher-statesman.' but a man in whom the power of thought and action are perfectly balanced, equal to the present, reaching forward to the future, 'such a one,' ruling in a constitutional state, 'they have never seen.' but as the philosopher is apt to fail in the routine of political life, so the ordinary statesman is also apt to fail in extraordinary crises. when the face of the world is beginning to alter, and thunder is heard in the distance, he is still guided by his old maxims, and is the slave of his inveterate party prejudices; he cannot perceive the signs of the times; instead of looking forward he looks back; he learns nothing and forgets nothing; with 'wise saws and modern instances' he would stem the rising tide of revolution. he lives more and more within the circle of his own party, as the world without him becomes stronger. this seems to be the reason why the old order of things makes so poor a figure when confronted with the new, why churches can never reform, why most political changes are made blindly and convulsively. the great crises in the history of nations have often been met by an ecclesiastical positiveness, and a more obstinate reassertion of principles which have lost their hold upon a nation. the fixed ideas of a reactionary statesman may be compared to madness; they grow upon him, and he becomes possessed by them; no judgement of others is ever admitted by him to be weighed in the balance against his own. ([greek: d]) plato, labouring under what, to modern readers, appears to have been a confusion of ideas, assimilates the state to the individual, and fails to distinguish ethics from politics. he thinks that to be most of a state which is most like one man, and in which the citizens have the greatest uniformity of character. he does not see that the analogy is partly fallacious, and that the will or character of a state or nation is really the balance or rather the surplus of individual wills, which are limited by the condition of having to act in common. {cxcix} the movement of a body of men can never have the pliancy or facility of a single man; the freedom of the individual, which is always limited, becomes still more straitened when transferred to a nation. the powers of action and feeling are necessarily weaker and more balanced when they are diffused through a community; whence arises the often discussed question, 'can a nation, like an individual, have a conscience?' we hesitate to say that the characters of nations are nothing more than the sum of the characters of the individuals who compose them; because there may be tendencies in individuals which react upon one another. a whole nation may be wiser than any one man in it; or may be animated by some common opinion or feeling which could not equally have affected the mind of a single person, or may have been inspired by a leader of genius to perform acts more than human. plato does not appear to have analysed the complications which arise out of the collective action of mankind. neither is he capable of seeing that analogies, though specious as arguments, may often have no foundation in fact, or of distinguishing between what is intelligible or vividly present to the mind, and what is true. in this respect he is far below aristotle, who is comparatively seldom imposed upon by false analogies. he cannot disentangle the arts from the virtues--at least he is always arguing from one to the other. his notion of music is transferred from harmony of sounds to harmony of life: in this he is assisted by the ambiguities of language as well as by the prevalence of pythagorean notions. and having once assimilated the state to the individual, he imagines that he will find the succession of states paralleled in the lives of individuals. still, through this fallacious medium, a real enlargement of ideas is attained. when the virtues as yet presented no distinct conception to the mind, a great advance was made by the comparison of them with the arts; for virtue is partly art, and has an outward form as well as an inward principle. the harmony of music affords a lively image of the harmonies of the world and of human life, and may be regarded as a splendid illustration which was naturally mistaken for a real analogy. in the same way the identification of ethics with politics has a tendency to give definiteness to ethics, and also to elevate and ennoble men's {cc} notions of the aims of government and of the duties of citizens; for ethics from one point of view may be conceived as an idealized law and politics; and politics, as ethics reduced to the conditions of human society. there have been evils which have arisen out of the attempt to identify them, and this has led to the separation or antagonism of them, which has been introduced by modern political writers. but we may likewise feel that something has been lost in their separation, and that the ancient philosophers who estimated the moral and intellectual wellbeing of mankind first, and the wealth of nations and individuals second, may have a salutary influence on the speculations of modern times. many political maxims originate in a reaction against an opposite error; and when the errors against which they were directed have passed away, they in turn become errors. * * * * * iii. plato's views of education are in several respects remarkable; like the rest of the republic they are partly greek and partly ideal, beginning with the ordinary curriculum of the greek youth, and extending to after-life. plato is the first writer who distinctly says that education is to comprehend the whole of life, and to be a preparation for another in which education begins again (vi. d). this is the continuous thread which runs through the republic, and which more than any other of his ideas admits of an application to modern life. he has long given up the notion that virtue cannot be taught; and he is disposed to modify the thesis of the protagoras, that the virtues are one and not many. he is not unwilling to admit the sensible world into his scheme of truth. nor does he assert in the republic the involuntariness of vice, which is maintained by him in the timaeus, sophist, and laws (cp. protag. foll., , ; apol. e; gorg. , e). nor do the so-called platonic ideas recovered from a former state of existence affect his theory of mental improvement. still we observe in him the remains of the old socratic doctrine, that true knowledge must be elicited from within, and is to be sought for in ideas, not in particulars of sense. education, as he says, will implant a principle of intelligence which is better than ten {cci} thousand eyes. the paradox that the virtues are one, and the kindred notion that all virtue is knowledge, are not entirely renounced; the first is seen in the supremacy given to justice over the rest; the second in the tendency to absorb the moral virtues in the intellectual, and to centre all goodness in the contemplation of the idea of good. the world of sense is still depreciated and identified with opinion, though admitted to be a shadow of the true. in the republic he is evidently impressed with the conviction that vice arises chiefly from ignorance and may be cured by education; the multitude are hardly to be deemed responsible for what they do (v. e). a faint allusion to the doctrine of reminiscence occurs in the tenth book ( a); but plato's views of education have no more real connection with a previous state of existence than our own; he only proposes to elicit from the mind that which is there already. education is represented by him, not as the filling of a vessel, but as the turning the eye of the soul towards the light. he treats first of music or literature, which he divides into true and false, and then goes on to gymnastics; of infancy in the republic he takes no notice, though in the laws he gives sage counsels about the nursing of children and the management of the mothers, and would have an education which is even prior to birth. but in the republic he begins with the age at which the child is capable of receiving ideas, and boldly asserts, in language which sounds paradoxical to modern ears, that he must be taught the false before he can learn the true. the modern and ancient philosophical world are not agreed about truth and falsehood; the one identifies truth almost exclusively with fact, the other with ideas. this is the difference between ourselves and plato, which is, however, partly a difference of words (cp. supra, p. xxxviii). for we too should admit that a child must receive many lessons which he imperfectly understands; he must be taught some things in a figure only, some too which he can hardly be expected to believe when he grows older; but we should limit the use of fiction by the necessity of the case. plato would draw the line differently; according to him the aim of early education is not truth as a matter of fact, but truth as a matter of principle; the child is to be taught first simple religious truths, and then simple moral truths, and insensibly to learn the lesson of good manners and good taste. he {ccii} would make an entire reformation of the old mythology; like xenophanes and heracleitus he is sensible of the deep chasm which separates his own age from homer and hesiod, whom he quotes and invests with an imaginary authority, but only for his own purposes. the lusts and treacheries of the gods are to be banished; the terrors of the world below are to be dispelled; the misbehaviour of the homeric heroes is not to be a model for youth. but there is another strain heard in homer which may teach our youth endurance; and something may be learnt in medicine from the simple practice of the homeric age. the principles on which religion is to be based are two only: first, that god is true; secondly, that he is good. modern and christian writers have often fallen short of these; they can hardly be said to have gone beyond them. the young are to be brought up in happy surroundings, out of the way of sights or sounds which may hurt the character or vitiate the taste. they are to live in an atmosphere of health; the breeze is always to be wafting to them the impressions of truth and goodness. could such an education be realized, or if our modern religious education could be bound up with truth and virtue and good manners and good taste, that would be the best hope of human improvement. plato, like ourselves, is looking forward to changes in the moral and religious world, and is preparing for them. he recognizes the danger of unsettling young men's minds by sudden changes of laws and principles, by destroying the sacredness of one set of ideas when there is nothing else to take their place. he is afraid too of the influence of the drama, on the ground that it encourages false sentiment, and therefore he would not have his children taken to the theatre; he thinks that the effect on the spectators is bad, and on the actors still worse. his idea of education is that of harmonious growth, in which are insensibly learnt the lessons of temperance and endurance, and the body and mind develope in equal proportions. the first principle which runs through all art and nature is simplicity; this also is to be the rule of human life. the second stage of education is gymnastic, which answers to the period of muscular growth and development. the simplicity which is enforced in music is extended to gymnastic; plato is aware that the training of the body may be inconsistent with the {cciii} training of the mind, and that bodily exercise may be easily overdone. excessive training of the body is apt to give men a headache or to render them sleepy at a lecture on philosophy, and this they attribute not to the true cause, but to the nature of the subject. two points are noticeable in plato's treatment of gymnastic:--first, that the time of training is entirely separated from the time of literary education. he seems to have thought that two things of an opposite and different nature could not be learnt at the same time. here we can hardly agree with him; and, if we may judge by experience, the effect of spending three years between the ages of fourteen and seventeen in mere bodily exercise would be far from improving to the intellect. secondly, he affirms that music and gymnastic are not, as common opinion is apt to imagine, intended, the one for the cultivation of the mind and the other of the body, but that they are both equally designed for the improvement of the mind. the body, in his view, is the servant of the mind; the subjection of the lower to the higher is for the advantage of both. and doubtless the mind may exercise a very great and paramount influence over the body, if exerted not at particular moments and by fits and starts, but continuously, in making preparation for the whole of life. other greek writers saw the mischievous tendency of spartan discipline (arist. pol. viii. , § foll.; thuc. ii. , ). but only plato recognized the fundamental error on which the practice was based. the subject of gymnastic leads plato to the sister subject of medicine, which he further illustrates by the parallel of law. the modern disbelief in medicine has led in this, as in some other departments of knowledge, to a demand for greater simplicity; physicians are becoming aware that they often make diseases 'greater and more complicated' by their treatment of them (rep. iv. a). in two thousand years their art has made but slender progress; what they have gained in the analysis of the parts is in a great degree lost by their feebler conception of the human frame as a whole. they have attended more to the cure of diseases than to the conditions of health; and the improvements in medicine have been more than counterbalanced by the disuse of regular training. until lately they have hardly thought of air and water, the importance of which was well understood by the ancients; as aristotle remarks, 'air and water, being the elements {cciv} which we most use, have the greatest effect upon health' (polit. vii. , § .). for ages physicians have been under the dominion of prejudices which have only recently given way; and now there are as many opinions in medicine as in theology, and an equal degree of scepticism and some want of toleration about both. plato has several good notions about medicine; according to him, 'the eye cannot be cured without the rest of the body, nor the body without the mind' (charm. e). no man of sense, he says in the timaeus, would take physic; and we heartily sympathize with him in the laws when he declares that 'the limbs of the rustic worn with toil will derive more benefit from warm baths than from the prescriptions of a not over wise doctor' (vi. c). but we can hardly praise him when, in obedience to the authority of homer, he depreciates diet, or approve of the inhuman spirit in which he would get rid of invalid and useless lives by leaving them to die. he does not seem to have considered that the 'bridle of theages' might be accompanied by qualities which were of far more value to the state than the health or strength of the citizens; or that the duty of taking care of the helpless might be an important element of education in a state. the physician himself (this is a delicate and subtle observation) should not be a man in robust health; he should have, in modern phraseology, a nervous temperament; he should have experience of disease in his own person, in order that his powers of observation may be quickened in the case of others. the perplexity of medicine is paralleled by the perplexity of law; in which, again, plato would have men follow the golden rule of simplicity. greater matters are to be determined by the legislator or by the oracle of delphi, lesser matters are to be left to the temporary regulation of the citizens themselves. plato is aware that _laissez faire_ is an important element of government. the diseases of a state are like the heads of a hydra; they multiply when they are cut off. the true remedy for them is not extirpation but prevention. and the way to prevent them is to take care of education, and education will take care of all the rest. so in modern times men have often felt that the only political measure worth having--the only one which would produce any certain or lasting effect, was a measure of national education. and in our own more than in any previous age the necessity has been {ccv} recognized of restoring the ever-increasing confusion of law to simplicity and common sense. when the training in music and gymnastic is completed, there follows the first stage of active and public life. but soon education is to begin again from a new point of view. in the interval between the fourth and seventh books we have discussed the nature of knowledge, and have thence been led to form a higher conception of what was required of us. for true knowledge, according to plato, is of abstractions, and has to do, not with particulars or individuals, but with universals only; not with the beauties of poetry, but with the ideas of philosophy. and the great aim of education is the cultivation of the habit of abstraction. this is to be acquired through the study of the mathematical sciences. they alone are capable of giving ideas of relation, and of arousing the dormant energies of thought. mathematics in the age of plato comprehended a very small part of that which is now included in them; but they bore a much larger proportion to the sum of human knowledge. they were the only organon of thought which the human mind at that time possessed, and the only measure by which the chaos of particulars could be reduced to rule and order. the faculty which they trained was naturally at war with the poetical or imaginative; and hence to plato, who is everywhere seeking for abstractions and trying to get rid of the illusions of sense, nearly the whole of education is contained in them. they seemed to have an inexhaustible application, partly because their true limits were not yet understood. these plato himself is beginning to investigate; though not aware that number and figure are mere abstractions of sense, he recognizes that the forms used by geometry are borrowed from the sensible world (vi. , ). he seeks to find the ultimate ground of mathematical ideas in the idea of good, though he does not satisfactorily explain the connexion between them; and in his conception of the relation of ideas to numbers, he falls very far short of the definiteness attributed to him by aristotle (met. i. , § ; ix. ). but if he fails to recognize the true limits of mathematics, he also reaches a point beyond them; in his view, ideas of number become secondary to a higher conception of knowledge. the dialectician is as much above the mathematician as the mathematician is above the ordinary man (cp. vii. d, {ccvi} e). the one, the self-proving, the good which is the higher sphere of dialectic, is the perfect truth to which all things ascend, and in which they finally repose. this self-proving unity or idea of good is a mere vision of which no distinct explanation can be given, relative only to a particular stage in greek philosophy. it is an abstraction under which no individuals are comprehended, a whole which has no parts (cf. arist., nic. eth., i. ). the vacancy of such a form was perceived by aristotle, but not by plato. nor did he recognize that in the dialectical process are included two or more methods of investigation which are at variance with each other. he did not see that whether he took the longer or the shorter road, no advance could be made in this way. and yet such visions often have an immense effect; for although the method of science cannot anticipate science, the idea of science, not as it is, but as it will be in the future, is a great and inspiring principle. in the pursuit of knowledge we are always pressing forward to something beyond us; and as a false conception of knowledge, for example the scholastic philosophy, may lead men astray during many ages, so the true ideal, though vacant, may draw all their thoughts in a right direction. it makes a great difference whether the general expectation of knowledge, as this indefinite feeling may be termed, is based upon a sound judgment. for mankind may often entertain a true conception of what knowledge ought to be when they have but a slender experience of facts. the correlation of the sciences, the consciousness of the unity of nature, the idea of classification, the sense of proportion, the unwillingness to stop short of certainty or to confound probability with truth, are important principles of the higher education. although plato could tell us nothing, and perhaps knew that he could tell us nothing, of the absolute truth, he has exercised an influence on the human mind which even at the present day is not exhausted; and political and social questions may yet arise in which the thoughts of plato may be read anew and receive a fresh meaning. the idea of good is so called only in the republic, but there are traces of it in other dialogues of plato. it is a cause as well as an idea, and from this point of view may be compared with the creator of the timaeus, who out of his goodness created {ccvii} all things. it corresponds to a certain extent with the modern conception of a law of nature, or of a final cause, or of both in one, and in this regard may be connected with the measure and symmetry of the philebus. it is represented in the symposium under the aspect of beauty, and is supposed to be attained there by stages of initiation, as here by regular gradations of knowledge. viewed subjectively, it is the process or science of dialectic. this is the science which, according to the phaedrus, is the true basis of rhetoric, which alone is able to distinguish the natures and classes of men and things; which divides a whole into the natural parts, and reunites the scattered parts into a natural or organized whole; which defines the abstract essences or universal ideas of all things, and connects them; which pierces the veil of hypotheses and reaches the final cause or first principle of all; which regards the sciences in relation to the idea of good. this ideal science is the highest process of thought, and may be described as the soul conversing with herself or holding communion with eternal truth and beauty, and in another form is the everlasting question and answer--the ceaseless interrogative of socrates. the dialogues of plato are themselves examples of the nature and method of dialectic. viewed objectively, the idea of good is a power or cause which makes the world without us correspond with the world within. yet this world without us is still a world of ideas. with plato the investigation of nature is another department of knowledge, and in this he seeks to attain only probable conclusions (cp. timaeus, d). if we ask whether this science of dialectic which plato only half explains to us is more akin to logic or to metaphysics, the answer is that in his mind the two sciences are not as yet distinguished, any more than the subjective and objective aspects of the world and of man, which german philosophy has revealed to us. nor has he determined whether his science of dialectic is at rest or in motion, concerned with the contemplation of absolute being, or with a process of development and evolution. modern metaphysics may be described as the science of abstractions, or as the science of the evolution of thought; modern logic, when passing beyond the bounds of mere aristotelian forms, may be defined as the science of method. the germ of {ccviii} both of them is contained in the platonic dialectic; all metaphysicians have something in common with the ideas of plato; all logicians have derived something from the method of plato. the nearest approach in modern philosophy to the universal science of plato, is to be found in the hegelian 'succession of moments in the unity of the idea.' plato and hegel alike seem to have conceived the world as the correlation of abstractions; and not impossibly they would have understood one another better than any of their commentators understand them (swift's voyage to laputa, c. [ ]). there is, however, a difference between them: for whereas hegel is thinking of all the minds of men as one mind, which developes the stages of the idea in different countries or at different times in the same country, with plato these gradations are regarded only as an order of thought or ideas; the history of the human mind had not yet dawned upon him. [footnote : 'having a desire to see those ancients who were most renowned for wit and learning, i set apart one day on purpose. i proposed that homer and aristotle might appear at the head of all their commentators; but these were so numerous that some hundreds were forced to attend in the court and outward rooms of the palace. i knew, and could distinguish these two heroes, at first sight, not only from the crowd, but from each other. homer was the taller and comelier person of the two, walked very erect for one of his age, and his eyes were the most quick and piercing i ever beheld. aristotle stooped much, and made use of a staff. his visage was meagre, his hair lank and thin, and his voice hollow. i soon discovered that both of them were perfect strangers to the rest of the company, and had never seen or heard of them before. and i had a whisper from a ghost, who shall be nameless, "that these commentators always kept in the most distant quarters from their principals, in the lower world, through a consciousness of shame and guilt, because they had so horribly misrepresented the meaning of these authors to posterity." i introduced didymus and eustathius to homer, and prevailed on him to treat them better than perhaps they deserved, for he soon found they wanted a genius to enter into the spirit of a poet. but aristotle was out of all patience with the account i gave him of scotus and ramus, as i presented them to him; and he asked them "whether the rest of the tribe were as great dunces as themselves?"'] many criticisms may be made on plato's theory of education. while in some respects he unavoidably falls short of modern thinkers, in others he is in advance of them. he is opposed to the modes of education which prevailed in his own time; but he can hardly be said to have discovered new ones. he does {ccix} not see that education is relative to the characters of individuals; he only desires to impress the same form of the state on the minds of all. he has no sufficient idea of the effect of literature on the formation of the mind, and greatly exaggerates that of mathematics. his aim is above all things to train the reasoning faculties; to implant in the mind the spirit and power of abstraction; to explain and define general notions, and, if possible, to connect them. no wonder that in the vacancy of actual knowledge his followers, and at times even he himself, should have fallen away from the doctrine of ideas, and have returned to that branch of knowledge in which alone the relation of the one and many can be truly seen--the science of number. in his views both of teaching and training he might be styled, in modern language, a doctrinaire; after the spartan fashion he would have his citizens cast in one mould; he does not seem to consider that some degree of freedom, 'a little wholesome neglect,' is necessary to strengthen and develope the character and to give play to the individual nature. his citizens would not have acquired that knowledge which in the vision of er is supposed to be gained by the pilgrims from their experience of evil. on the other hand, plato is far in advance of modern philosophers and theologians when he teaches that education is to be continued through life and will begin again in another. he would never allow education of some kind to cease; although he was aware that the proverbial saying of solon, 'i grow old learning many things,' cannot be applied literally. himself ravished with the contemplation of the idea of good, and delighting in solid geometry (rep. vii. ), he has no difficulty in imagining that a lifetime might be passed happily in such pursuits. we who know how many more men of business there are in the world than real students or thinkers, are not equally sanguine. the education which he proposes for his citizens is really the ideal life of the philosopher or man of genius, interrupted, but only for a time, by practical duties,--a life not for the many, but for the few. yet the thought of plato may not be wholly incapable of application to our own times. even if regarded as an ideal which can never be realized, it may have a great effect in elevating the characters of mankind, and raising them above the routine {ccx} of their ordinary occupation or profession. it is the best form under which we can conceive the whole of life. nevertheless the idea of plato is not easily put into practice. for the education of after life is necessarily the education which each one gives himself. men and women cannot be brought together in schools or colleges at forty or fifty years of age; and if they could the result would be disappointing. the destination of most men is what plato would call 'the den' for the whole of life, and with that they are content. neither have they teachers or advisers with whom they can take counsel in riper years. there is no 'schoolmaster abroad' who will tell them of their faults, or inspire them with the higher sense of duty, or with the ambition of a true success in life; no socrates who will convict them of ignorance; no christ, or follower of christ, who will reprove them of sin. hence they have a difficulty in receiving the first element of improvement, which is self-knowledge. the hopes of youth no longer stir them; they rather wish to rest than to pursue high objects. a few only who have come across great men and women, or eminent teachers of religion and morality, have received a second life from them, and have lighted a candle from the fire of their genius. the want of energy is one of the main reasons why so few persons continue to improve in later years. they have not the will, and do not know the way. they 'never try an experiment,' or look up a point of interest for themselves; they make no sacrifices for the sake of knowledge; their minds, like their bodies, at a certain age become fixed. genius has been defined as 'the power of taking pains'; but hardly any one keeps up his interest in knowledge throughout a whole life. the troubles of a family, the business of making money, the demands of a profession destroy the elasticity of the mind. the waxen tablet of the memory which was once capable of receiving 'true thoughts and clear impressions' becomes hard and crowded; there is not room for the accumulations of a long life (theaet. ff.). the student, as years advance, rather makes an exchange of knowledge than adds to his stores. there is no pressing necessity to learn; the stock of classics or history or natural science which was enough for a man at twenty-five is enough for him at fifty. neither is it easy to give a definite answer to any one who asks how he is to improve. for self-education consists in a {ccxi} thousand things, commonplace in themselves,--in adding to what we are by nature something of what we are not; in learning to see ourselves as others see us; in judging, not by opinion, but by the evidence of facts; in seeking out the society of superior minds; in a study of lives and writings of great men; in observation of the world and character; in receiving kindly the natural influence of different times of life; in any act or thought which is raised above the practice or opinions of mankind; in the pursuit of some new or original enquiry; in any effort of mind which calls forth some latent power. if any one is desirous of carrying out in detail the platonic education of after-life, some such counsels as the following may be offered to him:--that he shall choose the branch of knowledge to which his own mind most distinctly inclines, and in which he takes the greatest delight, either one which seems to connect with his own daily employment, or, perhaps, furnishes the greatest contrast to it. he may study from the speculative side the profession or business in which he is practically engaged. he may make homer, dante, shakespeare, plato, bacon the friends and companions of his life. he may find opportunities of hearing the living voice of a great teacher. he may select for enquiry some point of history or some unexplained phenomenon of nature. an hour a day passed in such scientific or literary pursuits will furnish as many facts as the memory can retain, and will give him 'a pleasure not to be repented of' (timaeus, d). only let him beware of being the slave of crotchets, or of running after a will o' the wisp in his ignorance, or in his vanity of attributing to himself the gifts of a poet or assuming the air of a philosopher. he should know the limits of his own powers. better to build up the mind by slow additions, to creep on quietly from one thing to another, to gain insensibly new powers and new interests in knowledge, than to form vast schemes which are never destined to be realized. but perhaps, as plato would say, 'this is part of another subject' (tim. b); though we may also defend our digression by his example (theaet. , ). * * * * * iv. we remark with surprise that the progress of nations or {ccxii} the natural growth of institutions which fill modern treatises on political philosophy seem hardly ever to have attracted the attention of plato and aristotle. the ancients were familiar with the mutability of human affairs; they could moralize over the ruins of cities and the fall of empires (cp. plato, statesman , , and sulpicius' letter to cicero, ad fam. iv. ); by them fate and chance were deemed to be real powers, almost persons, and to have had a great share in political events. the wiser of them like thucydides believed that 'what had been would be again,' and that a tolerable idea of the future could be gathered from the past. also they had dreams of a golden age which existed once upon a time and might still exist in some unknown land, or might return again in the remote future. but the regular growth of a state enlightened by experience, progressing in knowledge, improving in the arts, of which the citizens were educated by the fulfilment of political duties, appears never to have come within the range of their hopes and aspirations. such a state had never been seen, and therefore could not be conceived by them. their experience (cp. aristot. metaph. xi. ; plato, laws iii. - ) led them to conclude that there had been cycles of civilization in which the arts had been discovered and lost many times over, and cities had been overthrown and rebuilt again and again, and deluges and volcanoes and other natural convulsions had altered the face of the earth. tradition told them of many destructions of mankind and of the preservation of a remnant. the world began again after a deluge and was reconstructed out of the fragments of itself. also they were acquainted with empires of unknown antiquity, like the egyptian or assyrian; but they had never seen them grow, and could not imagine, any more than we can, the state of man which preceded them. they were puzzled and awestricken by the egyptian monuments, of which the forms, as plato says, not in a figure, but literally, were ten thousand years old (laws ii. e), and they contrasted the antiquity of egypt with their own short memories. the early legends of hellas have no real connection with the later history: they are at a distance, and the intermediate region is concealed from view; there is no road or path which leads from one to the other. at the beginning of greek history, in the vestibule of the temple, is seen standing first of all the figure of {ccxiii} the legislator, himself the interpreter and servant of the god. the fundamental laws which he gives are not supposed to change with time and circumstances. the salvation of the state is held rather to depend on the inviolable maintenance of them. they were sanctioned by the authority of heaven, and it was deemed impiety to alter them. the desire to maintain them unaltered seems to be the origin of what at first sight is very surprising to us--the intolerant zeal of plato against innovators in religion or politics (cp. laws x. - ); although with a happy inconsistency he is also willing that the laws of other countries should be studied and improvements in legislation privately communicated to the nocturnal council (laws xii. , ). the additions which were made to them in later ages in order to meet the increasing complexity of affairs were still ascribed by a fiction to the original legislator; and the words of such enactments at athens were disputed over as if they had been the words of solon himself. plato hopes to preserve in a later generation the mind of the legislator; he would have his citizens remain within the lines which he has laid down for them. he would not harass them with minute regulations, he would have allowed some changes in the laws: but not changes which would affect the fundamental institutions of the state, such for example as would convert an aristocracy into a timocracy, or a timocracy into a popular form of government. passing from speculations to facts, we observe that progress has been the exception rather than the law of human history. and therefore we are not surprised to find that the idea of progress is of modern rather than of ancient date; and, like the idea of a philosophy of history, is not more than a century or two old. it seems to have arisen out of the impression left on the human mind by the growth of the roman empire and of the christian church, and to be due to the political and social improvements which they introduced into the world; and still more in our own century to the idealism of the first french revolution and the triumph of american independence; and in a yet greater degree to the vast material prosperity and growth of population in england and her colonies and in america. it is also to be ascribed in a measure to the greater study of the philosophy of history. the optimist temperament of some great writers has {ccxiv} assisted the creation of it, while the opposite character has led a few to regard the future of the world as dark. the 'spectator of all time and of all existence' sees more of 'the increasing purpose which through the ages ran' than formerly: but to the inhabitant of a small state of hellas the vision was necessarily limited like the valley in which he dwelt. there was no remote past on which his eye could rest, nor any future from which the veil was partly lifted up by the analogy of history. the narrowness of view, which to ourselves appears so singular, was to him natural, if not unavoidable. * * * * * v. for the relation of the republic to the statesman and the laws, and the two other works of plato which directly treat of politics, see the introductions to the two latter; a few general points of comparison may be touched upon in this place. and first of the laws. ( ) the republic, though probably written at intervals, yet speaking generally and judging by the indications of thought and style, may be reasonably ascribed to the middle period of plato's life: the laws are certainly the work of his declining years, and some portions of them at any rate seem to have been written in extreme old age. ( ) the republic is full of hope and aspiration: the laws bear the stamp of failure and disappointment. the one is a finished work which received the last touches of the author: the other is imperfectly executed, and apparently unfinished. the one has the grace and beauty of youth: the other has lost the poetical form, but has more of the severity and knowledge of life which is characteristic of old age. ( ) the most conspicuous defect of the laws is the failure of dramatic power, whereas the republic is full of striking contrasts of ideas and oppositions of character. ( ) the laws may be said to have more the nature of a sermon, the republic of a poem; the one is more religious, the other more intellectual. ( ) many theories of plato, such as the doctrine of ideas, the government of the world by philosophers, are not found in the laws; the immortality of the soul is first mentioned in xii. , ; the person of socrates has altogether disappeared. the community of women and children is renounced; the institution of common or public meals for women (laws vi. ) is for the first time introduced {ccxv} (ar. pol. ii. , § ). ( ) there remains in the laws the old enmity to the poets (vii. ), who are ironically saluted in high-flown terms, and, at the same time, are peremptorily ordered out of the city, if they are not willing to submit their poems to the censorship of the magistrates (cp. rep. iii. ). ( ) though the work is in most respects inferior, there are a few passages in the laws, such as v. ff. (the honour due to the soul), viii. ff. (the evils of licentious or unnatural love), the whole of book x. (religion), xi. ff. (the dishonesty of retail trade), and ff. (bequests), which come more home to us, and contain more of what may be termed the modern element in plato than almost anything in the republic. the relation of the two works to one another is very well given: (i) by aristotle in the politics (ii. , §§ - ) from the side of the laws:-- 'the same, or nearly the same, objections apply to plato's later work, the laws, and therefore we had better examine briefly the constitution which is therein described. in the republic, socrates has definitely settled in all a few questions only; such as the community of women and children, the community of property, and the constitution of the state. the population is divided into two classes--one of husbandmen, and the other of warriors; from this latter is taken a third class of counsellors and rulers of the state. but socrates has not determined whether the husbandmen and artists are to have a share in the government, and whether they too are to carry arms and share in military service or not. he certainly thinks that the women ought to share in the education of the guardians, and to fight by their side. the remainder of the work is filled up with digressions foreign to the main subject, and with discussions about the education of the guardians. in the laws there is hardly anything but laws; not much is said about the constitution. this, which he had intended to make more of the ordinary type, he gradually brings round to the other or ideal form. for with the exception of the community of women and property, he supposes everything to be the same in both states; there is to be the same education; the citizens of both are to live free from servile occupations, and there are to be common meals in both. the only difference is that in the laws the common meals are {ccxvi} extended to women, and the warriors number about , but in the republic only .' (ii) by plato in the laws (book v. b-e), from the side of the republic:-- 'the first and highest form of the state and of the government and of the law is that in which there prevails most widely the ancient saying that "friends have all things in common." whether there is now, or ever will be, this communion of women and children and of property, in which the private and individual is altogether banished from life, and things which are by nature private, such as eyes and ears and hands, have become common, and all men express praise and blame, and feel joy and sorrow, on the same occasions, and the laws unite the city to the utmost,--whether all this is possible or not, i say that no man, acting upon any other principle, will ever constitute a state more exalted in virtue, or truer or better than this. such a state, whether inhabited by gods or sons of gods, will make them blessed who dwell therein; and therefore to this we are to look for the pattern of the state, and to cling to this, and, as far as possible, to seek for one which is like this. the state which we have now in hand, when created, will be nearest to immortality and unity in the next degree; and after that, by the grace of god, we will complete the third one. and we will begin by speaking of the nature and origin of the second.' the comparatively short work called the statesman or politicus in its style and manner is more akin to the laws, while in its idealism it rather resembles the republic. as far as we can judge by various indications of language and thought, it must be later than the one and of course earlier than the other. in both the republic and statesman a close connection is maintained between politics and dialectic. in the statesman, enquiries into the principles of method are interspersed with discussions about politics. the comparative advantages of the rule of law and of a person are considered, and the decision given in favour of a person (arist. pol. iii. , ). but much may be said on the other side, nor is the opposition necessary; for a person may rule by law, and law may be so applied as to be the living voice of the legislator. as in the republic, there is a myth, describing, however, not a future, but a former existence of mankind. the question is {ccxvii} asked, 'whether the state of innocence which is described in the myth, or a state like our own which possesses art and science and distinguishes good from evil, is the preferable condition of man.' to this question of the comparative happiness of civilized and primitive life, which was so often discussed in the last century and in our own, no answer is given. the statesman, though less perfect in style than the republic and of far less range, may justly be regarded as one of the greatest of plato's dialogues. * * * * * vi. others as well as plato have chosen an ideal republic to be the vehicle of thoughts which they could not definitely express, or which went beyond their own age. the classical writing which approaches most nearly to the republic of plato is the 'de republica' of cicero; but neither in this nor in any other of his dialogues does he rival the art of plato. the manners are clumsy and inferior; the hand of the rhetorician is apparent at every turn. yet noble sentiments are constantly recurring: the true note of roman patriotism--'we romans are a great people'--resounds through the whole work. like socrates, cicero turns away from the phenomena of the heavens to civil and political life. he would rather not discuss the 'two suns' of which all rome was talking, when he can converse about 'the two nations in one' which had divided rome ever since the days of the gracchi. like socrates again, speaking in the person of scipio, he is afraid lest he should assume too much the character of a teacher, rather than of an equal who is discussing among friends the two sides of a question. he would confine the terms king or state to the rule of reason and justice, and he will not concede that title either to a democracy or to a monarchy. but under the rule of reason and justice he is willing to include the natural superior ruling over the natural inferior, which he compares to the soul ruling over the body. he prefers a mixture of forms of government to any single one. the two portraits of the just and the unjust, which occur in the second book of the republic, are transferred to the state--philus, one of the interlocutors, maintaining against his will the necessity of injustice as a principle of government, while the other, laelius, supports the opposite thesis. his views of language and number are derived {ccxviii} from plato; like him he denounces the drama. he also declares that if his life were to be twice as long he would have no time to read the lyric poets. the picture of democracy is translated by him word for word, though he had hardly shown himself able to 'carry the jest' of plato. he converts into a stately sentence the humorous fancy about the animals, who 'are so imbued with the spirit of democracy that they make the passers-by get out of their way' (i. ). his description of the tyrant is imitated from plato, but is far inferior. the second book is historical, and claims for the roman constitution (which is to him the ideal) a foundation of fact such as plato probably intended to have given to the republic in the critias. his most remarkable imitation of plato is the adaptation of the vision of er, which is converted by cicero into the 'somnium scipionis'; he has 'romanized' the myth of the republic, adding an argument for the immortality of the soul taken from the phaedrus, and some other touches derived from the phaedo and the timaeus. though a beautiful tale and containing splendid passages, the 'somnium scipionis' is very inferior to the vision of er; it is only a dream, and hardly allows the reader to suppose that the writer believes in his own creation. whether his dialogues were framed on the model of the lost dialogues of aristotle, as he himself tells us, or of plato, to which they bear many superficial resemblances, he is still the roman orator; he is not conversing, but making speeches, and is never able to mould the intractable latin to the grace and ease of the greek platonic dialogue. but if he is defective in form, much more is he inferior to the greek in matter; he nowhere in his philosophical writings leaves upon our minds the impression of an original thinker. plato's republic has been said to be a church and not a state; and such an ideal of a city in the heavens has always hovered over the christian world, and is embodied in st. augustine's 'de civitate dei,' which is suggested by the decay and fall of the roman empire, much in the same manner in which we may imagine the republic of plato to have been influenced by the decline of greek politics in the writer's own age. the difference is that in the time of plato the degeneracy, though certain, was gradual and insensible: whereas the taking of rome by the goths stirred like an earthquake the age of st. augustine. men {ccxix} were inclined to believe that the overthrow of the city was to be ascribed to the anger felt by the old roman deities at the neglect of their worship. st. augustine maintains the opposite thesis; he argues that the destruction of the roman empire is due, not to the rise of christianity, but to the vices of paganism. he wanders over roman history, and over greek philosophy and mythology, and finds everywhere crime, impiety and falsehood. he compares the worst parts of the gentile religions with the best elements of the faith of christ. he shows nothing of the spirit which led others of the early christian fathers to recognize in the writings of the greek philosophers the power of the divine truth. he traces the parallel of the kingdom of god, that is, the history of the jews, contained in their scriptures, and of the kingdoms of the world, which are found in gentile writers, and pursues them both into an ideal future. it need hardly be remarked that his use both of greek and of roman historians and of the sacred writings of the jews is wholly uncritical. the heathen mythology, the sybilline oracles, the myths of plato, the dreams of neo-platonists are equally regarded by him as matter of fact. he must be acknowledged to be a strictly polemical or controversial writer who makes the best of everything on one side and the worst of everything on the other. he has no sympathy with the old roman life as plato has with greek life, nor has he any idea of the ecclesiastical kingdom which was to arise out of the ruins of the roman empire. he is not blind to the defects of the christian church, and looks forward to a time when christian and pagan shall be alike brought before the judgment-seat, and the true city of god shall appear.... the work of st. augustine is a curious repertory of antiquarian learning and quotations, deeply penetrated with christian ethics, but showing little power of reasoning, and a slender knowledge of the greek literature and language. he was a great genius, and a noble character, yet hardly capable of feeling or understanding anything external to his own theology. of all the ancient philosophers he is most attracted by plato, though he is very slightly acquainted with his writings. he is inclined to believe that the idea of creation in the timaeus is derived from the narrative in genesis; and he is strangely taken with the coincidence (?) of plato's saying that 'the philosopher {ccxx} is the lover of god,' and the words of the book of exodus in which god reveals himself to moses (exod. iii. ) he dwells at length on miracles performed in his own day, of which the evidence is regarded by him as irresistible. he speaks in a very interesting manner of the beauty and utility of nature and of the human frame, which he conceives to afford a foretaste of the heavenly state and of the resurrection of the body. the book is not really what to most persons the title of it would imply, and belongs to an age which has passed away. but it contains many fine passages and thoughts which are for all time. the short treatise de monarchia of dante is by far the most remarkable of mediæval ideals, and bears the impress of the great genius in whom italy and the middle ages are so vividly reflected. it is the vision of an universal empire, which is supposed to be the natural and necessary government of the world, having a divine authority distinct from the papacy, yet coextensive with it. it is not 'the ghost of the dead roman empire sitting crowned upon the grave thereof,' but the legitimate heir and successor of it, justified by the ancient virtues of the romans and the beneficence of their rule. their right to be the governors of the world is also confirmed by the testimony of miracles, and acknowledged by st. paul when he appealed to cæsar, and even more emphatically by christ himself, who could not have made atonement for the sins of men if he had not been condemned by a divinely authorized tribunal. the necessity for the establishment of an universal empire is proved partly by a priori arguments such as the unity of god and the unity of the family or nation; partly by perversions of scripture and history, by false analogies of nature, by misapplied quotations from the classics, and by odd scraps and commonplaces of logic, showing a familiar but by no means exact knowledge of aristotle (of plato there is none). but a more convincing argument still is the miserable state of the world, which he touchingly describes. he sees no hope of happiness or peace for mankind until all nations of the earth are comprehended in a single empire. the whole treatise shows how deeply the idea of the roman empire was fixed in the minds of his contemporaries. not much argument was needed to maintain the truth of a theory which to his own {ccxxi} contemporaries seemed so natural and congenial. he speaks, or rather preaches, from the point of view, not of the ecclesiastic, but of the layman, although, as a good catholic, he is willing to acknowledge that in certain respects the empire must submit to the church. the beginning and end of all his noble reflections and of his arguments, good and bad, is the aspiration 'that in this little plot of earth belonging to mortal man life may pass in freedom and peace.' so inextricably is his vision of the future bound up with the beliefs and circumstances of his own age. the 'utopia' of sir thomas more is a surprising monument of his genius, and shows a reach of thought far beyond his contemporaries. the book was written by him at the age of about or , and is full of the generous sentiments of youth. he brings the light of plato to bear upon the miserable state of his own country. living not long after the wars of the roses, and in the dregs of the catholic church in england, he is indignant at the corruption of the clergy, at the luxury of the nobility and gentry, at the sufferings of the poor, at the calamities caused by war. to the eye of more the whole world was in dissolution and decay; and side by side with the misery and oppression which he has described in the first book of the utopia, he places in the second book the ideal state which by the help of plato he had constructed. the times were full of stir and intellectual interest. the distant murmur of the reformation was beginning to be heard. to minds like more's, greek literature was a revelation: there had arisen an art of interpretation, and the new testament was beginning to be understood as it had never been before, and has not often been since, in its natural sense. the life there depicted appeared to him wholly unlike that of christian commonwealths, in which 'he saw nothing but a certain conspiracy of rich men procuring their own commodities under the name and title of the commonwealth.' he thought that christ, like plato, 'instituted all things common,' for which reason, he tells us, the citizens of utopia were the more willing to receive his doctrines[ ]. the community of {ccxxii} property is a fixed idea with him, though he is aware of the arguments which may be urged on the other side[ ]. we wonder how in the reign of henry viii, though veiled in another language and published in a foreign country, such speculations could have been endured. [footnote : 'howbeit, i think this was no small help and furtherance in the matter, that they heard us say that christ instituted among his, all things common, and that the same community doth yet remain in the rightest christian communities' (utopia, english reprints, p. ).] [footnote : 'these things (i say), when i consider with myself, i hold well with plato, and do nothing marvel that he would make no laws for them that refused those laws, whereby all men should have and enjoy equal portions of riches and commodities. for the wise men did easily foresee this to be the one and only way to the wealth of a community, if equality of all things should be brought in and established' (utopia, english reprints, p. , ).] he is gifted with far greater dramatic invention than any one who succeeded him, with the exception of swift. in the art of feigning he is a worthy disciple of plato. like him, starting from a small portion of fact, he founds his tale with admirable skill on a few lines in the latin narrative of the voyages of amerigo vespucci. he is very precise about dates and facts, and has the power of making us believe that the narrator of the tale must have been an eyewitness. we are fairly puzzled by his manner of mixing up real and imaginary persons; his boy john clement and peter giles, citizen of antwerp, with whom he disputes about the precise words which are supposed to have been used by the (imaginary) portuguese traveller, raphael hythloday. 'i have the more cause,' says hythloday, 'to fear that my words shall not be believed, for that i know how difficultly and hardly i myself would have believed another man telling the same, if i had not myself seen it with mine own eyes.' or again: 'if you had been with me in utopia, and had presently seen their fashions and laws as i did which lived there five years and more, and would never have come thence, but only to make the new land known here,' etc. more greatly regrets that he forgot to ask hythloday in what part of the world utopia is situated; he 'would have spent no small sum of money rather than it should have escaped him,' and he begs peter giles to see hythloday or write to him and obtain an answer to the question. after this we are not surprised to hear that a professor of divinity (perhaps 'a late famous vicar of croydon in surrey,' as the translator thinks) is desirous of being sent thither as a missionary by the high bishop, 'yea, and that he may himself be made bishop of utopia, nothing doubting that he must obtain this bishopric with suit; and he counteth that a godly {ccxxiii} suit which proceedeth not of the desire of honour or lucre, but only of a godly zeal.' the design may have failed through the disappearance of hythloday, concerning whom we have 'very uncertain news' after his departure. there is no doubt, however, that he had told more and giles the exact situation of the island, but unfortunately at the same moment more's attention, as he is reminded in a letter from giles, was drawn off by a servant, and one of the company from a cold caught on shipboard coughed so loud as to prevent giles from hearing. and 'the secret has perished' with him; to this day the place of utopia remains unknown. the words of phaedrus ( b), 'o socrates, you can easily invent egyptians or anything,' are recalled to our mind as we read this lifelike fiction. yet the greater merit of the work is not the admirable art, but the originality of thought. more is as free as plato from the prejudices of his age, and far more tolerant. the utopians do not allow him who believes not in the immortality of the soul to share in the administration of the state (cp. laws x. foll.), 'howbeit they put him to no punishment, because they be persuaded that it is in no man's power to believe what he list'; and 'no man is to be blamed for reasoning in support of his own religion[ ].' in the public services 'no prayers be used, but such as every man may boldly pronounce without giving offence to any sect.' he says significantly, 'there be that give worship to a man that was once of excellent virtue or of famous glory, not only as god, but also the chiefest and highest god. but the most and the wisest part, rejecting all these, believe that there is a certain godly power unknown, far above the capacity and reach of man's wit, dispersed throughout all the world, not in bigness, but in virtue and power. him they call the father of all. to him alone they attribute the beginnings, the increasings, the proceedings, {ccxxiv} the changes, and the ends of all things. neither give they any divine honours to any other than him.' so far was more from sharing the popular beliefs of his time. yet at the end he reminds us that he does not in all respects agree with the customs and opinions of the utopians which he describes. and we should let him have the benefit of this saving clause, and not rudely withdraw the veil behind which he has been pleased to conceal himself. [footnote : 'one of our company in my presence was sharply punished. he, as soon as he was baptised, began, against our wills, with more earnest affection than wisdom, to reason of christ's religion, and began to wax so hot in his matter, that he did not only prefer our religion before all other, but also did despise and condemn all other, calling them profane, and the followers of them wicked and devilish, and the children of everlasting damnation. when he had thus long reasoned the matter, they laid hold on him, accused him, and condemned him into exile, not as a despiser of religion, but as a seditious person and a raiser up of dissension among the people' (p. ).] nor is he less in advance of popular opinion in his political and moral speculations. he would like to bring military glory into contempt; he would set all sorts of idle people to profitable occupation, including in the same class, priests, women, noblemen, gentlemen, and 'sturdy and valiant beggars,' that the labour of all may be reduced to six hours a day. his dislike of capital punishment, and plans for the reformation of offenders; his detestation of priests and lawyers[ ]; his remark that 'although every one may hear of ravenous dogs and wolves and cruel man-eaters, it is not easy to find states that are well and wisely governed,' are curiously at variance with the notions of his age and indeed with his own life. there are many points in which he shows a modern feeling and a prophetic insight like plato. he is a sanitary reformer; he maintains that civilized states have a right to the soil of waste countries; he is inclined to the opinion which places happiness in virtuous pleasures, but herein, as he thinks, not disagreeing from those other philosophers who define virtue to be a life according to nature. he extends the idea of happiness so as to include the happiness of others; and he argues ingeniously, 'all men agree that we ought to make others happy; but if others, how much more ourselves!' and still he thinks that there may be a more excellent way, but to this no man's reason can attain unless heaven should inspire him with a higher truth. his ceremonies before marriage; his _humane_ proposal that war should be carried on by assassinating the leaders of the enemy, may be compared to some of the paradoxes of plato. he has a charming fancy, like the affinities of greeks and barbarians in the timaeus, that the utopians learnt the language of the greeks with the more readiness because they were originally of the same race with them. he is penetrated with the spirit of plato, and quotes or adapts many {ccxxv} thoughts both from the republic and from the timaeus. he prefers public duties to private, and is somewhat impatient of the importunity of relations. his citizens have no silver or gold of their own, but are ready enough to pay them to their mercenaries (cp. rep. iv. , ). there is nothing of which he is more contemptuous than the love of money. gold is used for fetters of criminals, and diamonds and pearls for children's necklaces[ ]. [footnote : compare his satirical observation: 'they (the utopians) have priests of exceeding holiness, and therefore very few' (p. ).] [footnote : when the ambassadors came arrayed in gold and peacocks' feathers 'to the eyes of all the utopians except very few, which had been in other countries for some reasonable cause, all that gorgeousness of apparel seemed shameful and reproachful. in so much that they most reverently saluted the vilest and most abject of them for lords--passing over the ambassadors themselves without any honour, judging them by their wearing of golden chains to be bondmen. you should have seen children also, that had cast away their pearls and precious stones, when they saw the like sticking upon the ambassadors' caps, dig and push their mothers under the sides, saying thus to them--"look, mother, how great a lubber doth yet wear pearls and precious stones, as though he were a little child still." but the mother; yea and that also in good earnest: "peace, son," saith she, "i think he be some of the ambassadors' fools"' (p. ).] like plato he is full of satirical reflections on governments and princes; on the state of the world and of knowledge. the hero of his discourse (hythloday) is very unwilling to become a minister of state, considering that he would lose his independence and his advice would never be heeded[ ]. he ridicules the new logic of his time; the utopians could never be made to understand the doctrine of second intentions[ ]. he is very severe on the sports of the gentry; the utopians count 'hunting the lowest, the vilest, and the most abject part of butchery.' he quotes the words of the republic in which the philosopher is described 'standing out of the way under a wall until the driving storm of sleet and rain be overpast,' which admit of a singular application to more's own fate; although, writing twenty years before (about the year ), {ccxxvi} he can hardly be supposed to have foreseen this. there is no touch of satire which strikes deeper than his quiet remark that the greater part of the precepts of christ are more at variance with the lives of ordinary christians than the discourse of utopia[ ]. [footnote : cp. an exquisite passage at p. , of which the conclusion is as follows: 'and verily it is naturally given ... suppressed and ended.'] [footnote : 'for they have not devised one of all those rules of restrictions, amplifications, and suppositions, very wittily invented in the small logicals, which here our children in every place do learn. furthermore, they were never yet able to find out the second intentions; insomuch that none of them all could ever see man himself in common, as they call him, though he be (as you know) bigger than was ever any giant, yea, and pointed to of us even with our finger.'] [footnote : 'and yet the most part of them is more dissident from the manners of the world now a days, than my communication was. but preachers, sly and wily men, following your counsel (as i suppose) because they saw men evil-willing to frame their manners to christ's rule, they have wrested and wried his doctrine, and, like a rule of lead, have applied it to men's manners, that by some means at the least way, they might agree together.'] the 'new atlantis' is only a fragment, and far inferior in merit to the 'utopia.' the work is full of ingenuity, but wanting in creative fancy, and by no means impresses the reader with a sense of credibility. in some places lord bacon is characteristically different from sir thomas more, as, for example, in the external state which he attributes to the governor of solomon's house, whose dress he minutely describes, while to sir thomas more such trappings appear simple ridiculous. yet, after this programme of dress, bacon adds the beautiful trait, 'that he had a look as though he pitied men.' several things are borrowed by him from the timaeus; but he has injured the unity of style by adding thoughts and passages which are taken from the hebrew scriptures. the 'city of the sun' written by campanella ( - ), a dominican friar, several years after the 'new atlantis' of bacon, has many resemblances to the republic of plato. the citizens have wives and children in common; their marriages are of the same temporary sort, and are arranged by the magistrates from time to time. they do not, however, adopt his system of lots, but bring together the best natures, male and female, 'according to philosophical rules.' the infants until two years of age are brought up by their mothers in public temples; and since individuals for the most part educate their children badly, at the beginning of their third year they are committed to the care of the state, and are taught at first, not out of books, but from paintings of all kinds, which are emblazoned on the walls of the city. the city has six interior circuits of walls, and an outer wall which is the seventh. on this outer wall are painted the figures of legislators and philosophers, and {ccxxvii} on each of the interior walls the symbols or forms of some one of the sciences are delineated. the women are, for the most part, trained, like the men, in warlike and other exercises; but they have two special occupations of their own. after a battle, they and the boys soothe and relieve the wounded warriors; also they encourage them with embraces and pleasant words (cp. plato, rep. v. ). some elements of the christian or catholic religion are preserved among them. the life of the apostles is greatly admired by this people because they had all things in common; and the short prayer which jesus christ taught men is used in their worship. it is a duty of the chief magistrates to pardon sins, and therefore the whole people make secret confession of them to the magistrates, and they to their chief, who is a sort of rector metaphysicus; and by this means he is well informed of all that is going on in the minds of men. after confession, absolution is granted to the citizens collectively, but no one is mentioned by name. there also exists among them a practice of perpetual prayer, performed by a succession of priests, who change every hour. their religion is a worship of god in trinity, that is of wisdom, love and power, but without any distinction of persons. they behold in the sun the reflection of his glory; mere graven images they reject, refusing to fall under the 'tyranny' of idolatry. many details are given about their customs of eating and drinking, about their mode of dressing, their employments, their wars. campanella looks forward to a new mode of education, which is to be a study of nature, and not of aristotle. he would not have his citizens waste their time in the consideration of what he calls 'the dead signs of things.' he remarks that he who knows one science only, does not really know that one any more than the rest, and insists strongly on the necessity of a variety of knowledge. more scholars are turned out in the city of the sun in one year than by contemporary methods in ten or fifteen. he evidently believes, like bacon, that henceforward natural science will play a great part in education, a hope which seems hardly to have been realized, either in our own or in any former age; at any rate the fulfilment of it has been long deferred. there is a good deal of ingenuity and even originality in this {ccxxviii} work, and a most enlightened spirit pervades it. but it has little or no charm of style, and falls very far short of the 'new atlantis' of bacon, and still more of the 'utopia' of sir thomas more. it is full of inconsistencies, and though borrowed from plato, shows but a superficial acquaintance with his writings. it is a work such as one might expect to have been written by a philosopher and man of genius who was also a friar, and who had spent twenty-seven years of his life in a prison of the inquisition. the most interesting feature of the book, common to plato and sir thomas more, is the deep feeling which is shown by the writer, of the misery and ignorance prevailing among the lower classes in his own time. campanella takes note of aristotle's answer to plato's community of property, that in a society where all things are common, no individual would have any motive to work (arist. pol. ii. , § ): he replies, that his citizens being happy and contented in themselves (they are required to work only four hours a day), will have greater regard for their fellows than exists among men at present. he thinks, like plato, that if he abolishes private feelings and interests, a great public feeling will take their place. other writings on ideal states, such as the 'oceana' of harrington, in which the lord archon, meaning cromwell, is described, not as he was, but as he ought to have been; or the 'argenis' of barclay, which is an historical allegory of his own time, are too unlike plato to be worth mentioning. more interesting than either of these, and far more platonic in style and thought, is sir john eliot's 'monarchy of man,' in which the prisoner of the tower, no longer able 'to be a politician in the land of his birth,' turns away from politics to view 'that other city which is within him,' and finds on the very threshold of the grave that the secret of human happiness is the mastery of self. the change of government in the time of the english commonwealth set men thinking about first principles, and gave rise to many works of this class.... the great original genius of swift owes nothing to plato; nor is there any trace in the conversation or in the works of dr. johnson of any acquaintance with his writings. he probably would have refuted plato without reading him, in the same fashion in which he supposed himself to have refuted bishop berkeley's theory of the non-existence of matter. if we {ccxxix} except the so-called english platonists, or rather neo-platonists, who never understood their master, and the writings of coleridge, who was to some extent a kindred spirit, plato has left no permanent impression on english literature. * * * * * vii. human life and conduct are affected by ideals in the same way that they are affected by the examples of eminent men. neither the one nor the other are immediately applicable to practice, but there is a virtue flowing from them which tends to raise individuals above the common routine of society or trade, and to elevate states above the mere interests of commerce or the necessities of self-defence. like the ideals of art they are partly framed by the omission of particulars; they require to be viewed at a certain distance, and are apt to fade away if we attempt to approach them. they gain an imaginary distinctness when embodied in a state or in a system of philosophy, but they still remain the visions of 'a world unrealized.' more striking and obvious to the ordinary mind are the examples of great men, who have served their own generation and are remembered in another. even in our own family circle there may have been some one, a woman, or even a child, in whose face has shone forth a goodness more than human. the ideal then approaches nearer to us, and we fondly cling to it. the ideal of the past, whether of our own past lives or of former states of society, has a singular fascination for the minds of many. too late we learn that such ideals cannot be recalled, though the recollection of them may have a humanizing influence on other times. but the abstractions of philosophy are to most persons cold and vacant; they give light without warmth; they are like the full moon in the heavens when there are no stars appearing. men cannot live by thought alone; the world of sense is always breaking in upon them. they are for the most part confined to a corner of earth, and see but a little way beyond their own home or place of abode; they 'do not lift up their eyes to the hills'; they are not awake when the dawn appears. but in plato we have reached a height from which a man may look into the distance (rep. iv. c) and behold the future of the world and of philosophy. the ideal of the state and of the life of the philosopher; the ideal of an education {ccxxx} continuing through life and extending equally to both sexes; the ideal of the unity and correlation of knowledge; the faith in good and immortality--are the vacant forms of light on which plato is seeking to fix the eye of mankind. * * * * * viii. two other ideals, which never appeared above the horizon in greek philosophy, float before the minds of men in our own day: one seen more clearly than formerly, as though each year and each generation brought us nearer to some great change; the other almost in the same degree retiring from view behind the laws of nature, as if oppressed by them, but still remaining a silent hope of we know not what hidden in the heart of man. the first ideal is the future of the human race in this world; the second the future of the individual in another. the first is the more perfect realization of our own present life; the second, the abnegation of it: the one, limited by experience, the other, transcending it. both of them have been and are powerful motives of action; there are a few in whom they have taken the place of all earthly interests. the hope of a future for the human race at first sight seems to be the more disinterested, the hope of individual existence the more egotistical, of the two motives. but when men have learned to resolve their hope of a future either for themselves or for the world into the will of god--'not my will but thine,' the difference between them falls away; and they may be allowed to make either of them the basis of their lives, according to their own individual character or temperament. there is as much faith in the willingness to work for an unseen future in this world as in another. neither is it inconceivable that some rare nature may feel his duty to another generation, or to another century, almost as strongly as to his own, or that living always in the presence of god, he may realize another world as vividly as he does this. the greatest of all ideals may, or rather must be conceived by us under similitudes derived from human qualities; although sometimes, like the jewish prophets, we may dash away these figures of speech and describe the nature of god only in negatives. these again by degrees acquire a positive meaning. it would be well, if when meditating on the higher truths either of ccxxxi} philosophy or religion, we sometimes substituted one form of expression for another, lest through the necessities of language we should become the slaves of mere words. there is a third ideal, not the same, but akin to these, which has a place in the home and heart of every believer in the religion of christ, and in which men seem to find a nearer and more familiar truth, the divine man, the son of man, the saviour of mankind, who is the first-born and head of the whole family in heaven and earth, in whom the divine and human, that which is without and that which is within the range of our earthly faculties, are indissolubly united. neither is this divine form of goodness wholly separable from the ideal of the christian church, which is said in the new testament to be 'his body,' or at variance with those other images of good which plato sets before us. we see him in a figure only, and of figures of speech we select but a few, and those the simplest, to be the expression of him. we behold him in a picture, but he is not there. we gather up the fragments of his discourses, but neither do they represent him as he truly was. his dwelling is neither in heaven nor earth, but in the heart of man. this is that image which plato saw dimly in the distance, which, when existing among men, he called, in the language of homer, 'the likeness of god' (rep. vi. b), the likeness of a nature which in all ages men have felt to be greater and better than themselves, and which in endless forms, whether derived from scripture or nature, from the witness of history or from the human heart, regarded as a person or not as a person, with or without parts or passions, existing in space or not in space, is and will always continue to be to mankind the idea of good. the republic. book i _persons of the dialogue._ socrates, _who is the narrator_. cephalus. glaucon. thrasymachus. adeimantus. cleitophon. polemarchus. _and others who are mute auditors._ the scene is laid in the house of cephalus at the piraeus; and the whole dialogue is narrated by socrates the day after it actually took place to timaeus, hermocrates, critias, and a nameless person, who are introduced in the timaeus. *ed. steph. * [sidenote: _republic i_. socrates, glaucon. meeting of socrates and glaucon with polemarchus at the bendidean festival.] i went down yesterday to the piraeus with glaucon the son of ariston, that i might offer up my prayers to the goddess[ ]; and also because i wanted to see in what manner they would celebrate the festival, which was a new thing. i was delighted with the procession of the inhabitants; but that of the thracians was equally, if not more, beautiful. * b* when we had finished our prayers and viewed the spectacle, we turned in the direction of the city; and at that instant polemarchus the son of cephalus chanced to catch sight of us from a distance as we were starting on our way home, and told his servant to run and bid us wait for him. the servant took hold of me by the cloak behind, and said: polemarchus desires you to wait. [footnote : bendis, the thracian artemis.] i turned round, and asked him where his master was. there he is, said the youth, coming after you, if you will only wait. [sidenote: socrates, polemarchus, glaucon, adeimantus, cephalus.] { } * c* certainly we will, said glaucon; and in a few minutes polemarchus appeared, and with him adeimantus, glaucon's brother, niceratus the son of nicias, and several others who had been at the procession. polemarchus said to me: i perceive, socrates, that you and your companion are already on your way to the city. you are not far wrong, i said. but do you see, he rejoined, how many we are? of course. and are you stronger than all these? for if not, you will have to remain where you are. may there not be the alternative, i said, that we may persuade you to let us go? but can you persuade us, if we refuse to listen to you? he said. certainly not, replied glaucon. then we are not going to listen; of that you may be assured. * a* [sidenote: the equestrian torch-race.] adeimantus added: has no one told you of the torch-race on horseback in honour of the goddess which will take place in the evening? with horses! i replied: that is a novelty. will horsemen carry torches and pass them one to another during the race? yes, said polemarchus, and not only so, but a festival will be celebrated at night, which you certainly ought to see. let us rise soon after supper and see this festival; there will be a gathering of young men, and we will have a good talk. * b* stay then, and do not be perverse. glaucon said: i suppose, since you insist, that we must. very good, i replied. [sidenote: the gathering of friends at the house of cephalus.] accordingly we went with polemarchus to his house; and there we found his brothers lysias and euthydemus, and with them thrasymachus the chalcedonian, charmantides the paeanian, and cleitophon the son of aristonymus. there too was cephalus the father of polemarchus, whom i had not seen for a long time, and i thought him very much aged. * c* he was seated on a cushioned chair, and had a garland on his head, for he had been sacrificing in the court; and there were some other chairs in the room arranged in a semicircle, { } upon which we sat down by him. he saluted me eagerly, and then he said:-- [sidenote: cephalus, socrates.] you don't come to see me, socrates, as often as you ought: if i were still able to go and see you i would not ask you to come to me. but at my age i can hardly get to the city, and therefore you should come oftener to the piraeus. * d* for let me tell you, that the more the pleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me is the pleasure and charm of conversation. do not then deny my request, but make our house your resort and keep company with these young men; we are old friends, and you will be quite at home with us. i replied: there is nothing which for my part i like better, cephalus, than conversing with aged men; * e* for i regard them as travellers who have gone a journey which i too may have to go, and of whom i ought to enquire, whether the way is smooth and easy, or rugged and difficult. and this is a question which i should like to ask of you who have arrived at that time which the poets call the 'threshold of old age'--is life harder towards the end, or what report do you give of it? * a* [sidenote: old age is not to blame for the troubles of old men.] [sidenote: the excellent saying of sophocles.] i will tell you, socrates, he said, what my own feeling is. men of my age flock together; we are birds of a feather, as the old proverb says; and at our meetings the tale of my acquaintance commonly is--i cannot eat, i cannot drink; the pleasures of youth and love are fled away: there was a good time once, but now that is gone, and life is no longer life. * b* some complain of the slights which are put upon them by relations, and they will tell you sadly of how many evils their old age is the cause. but to me, socrates, these complainers seem to blame that which is not really in fault. for if old age were the cause, i too being old, and every other old man, would have felt as they do. but this is not my own experience, nor that of others whom i have known. how well i remember the aged poet sophocles, when in answer to the question, * c* how does love suit with age, sophocles,--are you still the man you were? peace, he replied; most gladly have i escaped the thing of which you speak; i feel as if i had escaped from a mad and furious master. his words have often occurred to my mind since, and they seem as good to me now as at the time when he uttered them. { } for certainly old age has a great sense of calm and freedom; when the passions relax their hold, then, as sophocles says, * d* we are freed from the grasp not of one mad master only, but of many. the truth is, socrates, that these regrets, and also the complaints about relations, are to be attributed to the same cause, which is not old age, but men's characters and tempers; for he who is of a calm and happy nature will hardly feel the pressure of age, but to him who is of an opposite disposition youth and age are equally a burden. [sidenote: it is admitted that the old, if they are to be comfortable, must have a fair share of external goods; neither virtue alone nor riches alone can make an old man happy.] i listened in admiration, and wanting to draw him out, that he might go on-- * e* yes, cephalus, i said: but i rather suspect that people in general are not convinced by you when you speak thus; they think that old age sits lightly upon you, not because of your happy disposition, but because you are rich, and wealth is well known to be a great comforter. you are right, he replied; they are not convinced: and there is something in what they say; not, however, so much as they imagine. i might answer them as themistocles answered the seriphian who was abusing him and saying that he was famous, not for his own merits but because he * a* was an athenian: 'if you had been a native of my country or i of yours, neither of us would have been famous.' and to those who are not rich and are impatient of old age, the same reply may be made; for to the good poor man old age cannot be a light burden, nor can a bad rich man ever have peace with himself. may i ask, cephalus, whether your fortune was for the most part inherited or acquired by you? [sidenote: cephalus has inherited rather than made a fortune; he is therefore indifferent to money.] acquired! * b* socrates; do you want to know how much i acquired? in the art of making money i have been midway between my father and grandfather: for my grandfather, whose name i bear, doubled and trebled the value of his patrimony, that which he inherited being much what i possess now; but my father lysanias reduced the property below what it is at present: and i shall be satisfied if i leave to these my sons not less but a little more than i received. that was why i asked you the question, i replied, because i see that you are indifferent about money, * c* which is a characteristic rather of those who have inherited their fortunes than of those who have acquired them; the makers { } of fortunes have a second love of money as a creation of their own, resembling the affection of authors for their own poems, or of parents for their children, besides that natural love of it for the sake of use and profit which is common to them and all men. and hence they are very bad company, for they can talk about nothing but the praises of wealth. that is true, he said. [sidenote: the advantages of wealth.] * d* yes, that is very true, but may i ask another question?--what do you consider to be the greatest blessing which you have reaped from your wealth? [sidenote: the fear of death and the consciousness of sin become more vivid in old age; and to be rich frees a man from many temptations.] one, he said, of which i could not expect easily to convince others. for let me tell you, socrates, that when a man thinks himself to be near death, fears and cares enter into his mind which he never had before; the tales of a world below and the punishment which is exacted there of deeds done here were once a laughing matter to him, * e* but now he is tormented with the thought that they may be true: either from the weakness of age, or because he is now drawing nearer to that other place, he has a clearer view of these things; suspicions and alarms crowd thickly upon him, and he begins to reflect and consider what wrongs he has done to others. and when he finds that the sum of his transgressions is great he will many a time like a child start up in his sleep for fear, and he is filled with dark forebodings. but * a* to him who is conscious of no sin, sweet hope, as pindar charmingly says, is the kind nurse of his age: [sidenote: the admirable strain of pindar.] 'hope,' he says, 'cherishes the soul of him who lives in justice and holiness, and is the nurse of his age and the companion of his journey;--hope which is mightiest to sway the restless soul of man.' how admirable are his words! and the great blessing of riches, * b* i do not say to every man, but to a good man, is, that he has had no occasion to deceive or to defraud others, either intentionally or unintentionally; and when he departs to the world below he is not in any apprehension about offerings due to the gods or debts which he owes to men. now to this peace of mind the possession of wealth greatly contributes; and therefore i say, that, setting one thing against another, of the many advantages which wealth has to give, to a man of sense this is in my opinion the greatest. { } [sidenote: cephalus, socrates, polemarchus.] [sidenote: justice to speak truth and pay your debts.] * c* well said, cephalus, i replied; but as concerning justice, what is it?--to speak the truth and to pay your debts--no more than this? and even to this are there not exceptions? suppose that a friend when in his right mind has deposited arms with me and he asks for them when he is not in his right mind, ought i to give them back to him? no one would say that i ought or that i should be right in doing so, any more than they would say that i ought always to speak the truth to one who is in his condition. * d* you are quite right, he replied. but then, i said, speaking the truth and paying your debts is not a correct definition of justice. [sidenote: this is the definition of simonides. but you ought not on all occasions to do either. what then was his meaning?] quite correct, socrates, if simonides is to be believed, said polemarchus interposing. i fear, said cephalus, that i must go now, for i have to look after the sacrifices, and i hand over the argument to polemarchus and the company. is not polemarchus your heir? i said. to be sure, he answered, and went away laughing to the sacrifices. * e* tell me then, o thou heir of the argument, what did simonides say, and according to you truly say, about justice? he said that the repayment of a debt is just, and in saying so he appears to me to be right. i should be sorry to doubt the word of such a wise and inspired man, but his meaning, though probably clear to you, is the reverse of clear to me. for he certainly does not mean, as we were just now saying, that i ought to return a deposit of arms or of anything else to one who asks for it * a* when he is not in his right senses; and yet a deposit cannot be denied to be a debt. true. then when the person who asks me is not in his right mind i am by no means to make the return? certainly not. when simonides said that the repayment of a debt was justice, he did not mean to include that case? certainly not; for he thinks that a friend ought always to do good to a friend and never evil. [sidenote: socrates, polemarchus.] * b* you mean that the return of a deposit of gold which is to the injury of the receiver, if the two parties are friends, is not the repayment of a debt,--that is what you would imagine him to say? yes. and are enemies also to receive what we owe to them? to be sure, he said, they are to receive what we owe them, and an enemy, as i take it, owes to an enemy that which is due or proper to him--that is to say, evil. { } simonides, then, after the manner of poets, would seem to have spoken darkly of the nature of justice; * c* for he really meant to say that justice is the giving to each man what is proper to him, and this he termed a debt. that must have been his meaning, he said. by heaven! i replied; and if we asked him what due or proper thing is given by medicine, and to whom, what answer do you think that he would make to us? he would surely reply that medicine gives drugs and meat and drink to human bodies. and what due or proper thing is given by cookery, and to what? * d* seasoning to food. and what is that which justice gives, and to whom? if, socrates, we are to be guided at all by the analogy of the preceding instances, then justice is the art which gives good to friends and evil to enemies. that is his meaning then? i think so. [sidenote: illustrations.] and who is best able to do good to his friends and evil to his enemies in time of sickness? the physician. * e* or when they are on a voyage, amid the perils of the sea? the pilot. and in what sort of actions or with a view to what result is the just man most able to do harm to his enemy and good to his friend? in going to war against the one and in making alliances with the other. but when a man is well, my dear polemarchus, there is no need of a physician? { } no. and he who is not on a voyage has no need of a pilot? no. then in time of peace justice will be of no use? i am very far from thinking so. * a* you think that justice may be of use in peace as well as in war? yes. like husbandry for the acquisition of corn? yes. or like shoemaking for the acquisition of shoes,--that is what you mean? yes. and what similar use or power of acquisition has justice in time of peace? [sidenote: justice is useful in contracts,] in contracts, socrates, justice is of use. and by contracts you mean partnerships? exactly. * b* but is the just man or the skilful player a more useful and better partner at a game of draughts? the skilful player. and in the laying of bricks and stones is the just man a more useful or better partner than the builder? quite the reverse. then in what sort of partnership is the just man a better partner than the harp-player, as in playing the harp the harp-player is certainly a better partner than the just man? in a money partnership. yes, polemarchus, but surely not in the use of money; for you do not want a just man to be your counsellor in the purchase or sale of a horse; a man who is knowing about * c* horses would be better for that, would he not? certainly. and when you want to buy a ship, the shipwright or the pilot would be better? true. then what is that joint use of silver or gold in which the just man is to be preferred? [sidenote: especially in the safe-keeping of deposits.] when you want a deposit to be kept safely. you mean when money is not wanted, but allowed to lie? { } precisely. [sidenote: but not in the use of money: and if so, justice is only useful when money or anything else is useless.] that is to say, justice is useful when money is useless? * d* that is the inference. and when you want to keep a pruning-hook safe, then justice is useful to the individual and to the state; but when you want to use it, then the art of the vine-dresser? clearly. and when you want to keep a shield or a lyre, and not to use them, you would say that justice is useful; but when you want to use them, then the art of the soldier or of the musician? certainly. and so of all other things;--justice is useful when they are useless, and useless when they are useful? that is the inference. * e* then justice is not good for much. but let us consider this further point: is not he who can best strike a blow in a boxing match or in any kind of fighting best able to ward off a blow? certainly. and he who is most skilful in preventing or escaping[ ] from a disease is best able to create one? [footnote : reading [greek: phula/xasthai kai\ lathei=n, (ou=tos, ktl].] true. [sidenote: a new point of view: is not he who is best able to do good best able to do evil?] and he is the best guard of a camp who is best able to * a* steal a march upon the enemy? certainly. then he who is a good keeper of anything is also a good thief? that, i suppose, is to be inferred. then if the just man is good at keeping money, he is good at stealing it. that is implied in the argument. then after all the just man has turned out to be a thief. and this is a lesson which i suspect you must have learnt out of homer; * b* for he, speaking of autolycus, the maternal grandfather of odysseus, who is a favourite of his, affirms that 'he was excellent above all men in theft and perjury.' and so, you and homer and simonides are agreed that { } justice is an art of theft; to be practised however 'for the good of friends and for the harm of enemies,'--that was what you were saying? no, certainly not that, though i do not now know what i did say; but i still stand by the latter words. * c* well, there is another question: by friends and enemies do we mean those who are so really, or only in seeming? [sidenote: justice an art of theft to be practised for the good of friends and the harm of enemies. but who are friends and enemies?] surely, he said, a man may be expected to love those whom he thinks good, and to hate those whom he thinks evil. yes, but do not persons often err about good and evil: many who are not good seem to be so, and conversely? that is true. then to them the good will be enemies and the evil will be their friends? true. and in that case they will be right in doing good to the evil and * d* evil to the good? clearly. but the good are just and would not do an injustice? true. then according to your argument it is just to injure those who do no wrong? nay, socrates; the doctrine is immoral. then i suppose that we ought to do good to the just and harm to the unjust? i like that better. [sidenote: mistakes will sometimes happen.] but see the consequence:--many a man who is ignorant of human nature has friends who are bad friends, * e* and in that case he ought to do harm to them; and he has good enemies whom he ought to benefit; but, if so, we shall be saying the very opposite of that which we affirmed to be the meaning of simonides. very true, he said: and i think that we had better correct an error into which we seem to have fallen in the use of the words 'friend' and 'enemy.' what was the error, polemarchus? i asked. we assumed that he is a friend who seems to be or who is thought good. [sidenote: correction of the definition.] and how is the error to be corrected? [sidenote: to appearance we must add reality. he is a friend who 'is' as well as 'seems' good, and we should do good to our good friends and harm to our bad enemies.] we should rather say that he is a friend who is, as well as { } seems, good; * a* and that he who seems only, and is not good, only seems to be and is not a friend; and of an enemy the same may be said. you would argue that the good are our friends and the bad our enemies? yes. and instead of saying simply as we did at first, that it is just to do good to our friends and harm to our enemies, we should further say: it is just to do good to our friends when they are good and harm to our enemies when they are evil? * b* yes, that appears to me to be the truth. but ought the just to injure any one at all? undoubtedly he ought to injure those who are both wicked and his enemies. [sidenote: to harm men is to injure them; and to injure them is to make them unjust. but justice cannot produce injustice.] when horses are injured, are they improved or deteriorated? the latter. deteriorated, that is to say, in the good qualities of horses, not of dogs? yes, of horses. and dogs are deteriorated in the good qualities of dogs, and not of horses? of course. * c* and will not men who are injured be deteriorated in that which is the proper virtue of man? certainly. and that human virtue is justice? to be sure. then men who are injured are of necessity made unjust? that is the result. [sidenote: illustrations.] but can the musician by his art make men unmusical? certainly not. or the horseman by his art make them bad horsemen? impossible. and can the just by justice make men unjust, or speaking * d* generally, can the good by virtue make them bad? assuredly not. any more than heat can produce cold? it cannot. or drought moisture? { } [sidenote: socrates, polemarchus, thrasymachus.] clearly not. nor can the good harm any one? impossible. and the just is the good? certainly. then to injure a friend or any one else is not the act of a just man, but of the opposite, who is the unjust? i think that what you say is quite true, socrates. * e* then if a man says that justice consists in the repayment of debts, and that good is the debt which a just man owes to his friends, and evil the debt which he owes to his enemies,--to say this is not wise; for it is not true, if, as has been clearly shown, the injuring of another can be in no case just. i agree with you, said polemarchus. [sidenote: the saying however explained is not to be attributed to any good or wise man.] then you and i are prepared to take up arms against any one who attributes such a saying to simonides or bias or pittacus, or any other wise man or seer? i am quite ready to do battle at your side, he said. * a* shall i tell you whose i believe the saying to be? whose? i believe that periander or perdiccas or xerxes or ismenias the theban, or some other rich and mighty man, who had a great opinion of his own power, was the first to say that justice is 'doing good to your friends and harm to your enemies.' most true, he said. yes, i said; but if this definition of justice also breaks down, what other can be offered? [sidenote: the brutality of thrasymachus.] * b* several times in the course of the discussion thrasymachus had made an attempt to get the argument into his own hands, and had been put down by the rest of the company, who wanted to hear the end. but when polemarchus and i had done speaking and there was a pause, he could no longer hold his peace; and, gathering himself up, he came at us like a wild beast, seeking to devour us. we were quite panic-stricken at the sight of him. he roared out to the whole company: what folly, socrates, has taken possession of you all? * c* and why, sillybillies, do you knock under to one another? i say that if you want really to know what justice is, you should not only ask but { } answer, and you should not seek honour to yourself from the refutation of an opponent, but have your own answer; for there is many a one who can ask and cannot answer. * d* and now i will not have you say that justice is duty or advantage or profit or gain or interest, for this sort of nonsense will not do for me; i must have clearness and accuracy. [sidenote: socrates, thrasymachus.] i was panic-stricken at his words, and could not look at him without trembling. indeed i believe that if i had not fixed my eye upon him, i should have been struck dumb: but when i saw his fury rising, i looked at him first, and was * e* therefore able to reply to him. thrasymachus, i said, with a quiver, don't be hard upon us. polemarchus and i may have been guilty of a little mistake in the argument, but i can assure you that the error was not intentional. if we were seeking for a piece of gold, you would not imagine that we were 'knocking under to one another,' and so losing our chance of finding it. and why, when we are seeking for justice, a thing more precious than many pieces of gold, do you say that we are weakly yielding to one another and not doing our utmost to get at the truth? nay, my good friend, we are most willing and anxious to do so, but the fact is that we cannot. and if so, you people who know all things should pity us and not be angry with us. * a* how characteristic of socrates! he replied, with a bitter laugh; --that's your ironical style! did i not foresee--have i not already told you, that whatever he was asked he would refuse to answer, and try irony or any other shuffle, in order that he might avoid answering? [sidenote: socrates cannot give any answer if all true answers are excluded.] [sidenote: thrasymachus is assailed with his own weapons.] you are a philosopher, thrasymachus, i replied, and well know that if you ask a person what numbers make up twelve, * b* taking care to prohibit him whom you ask from answering twice six, or three times four, or six times two, or four times three, 'for this sort of nonsense will not do for me,'--then obviously, if that is your way of putting the question, no one can answer you. but suppose that he were to retort, 'thrasymachus, what do you mean? if one of these numbers which you interdict be the true answer to the question, am i falsely to say some other number which is not the right one?--is * c* that your meaning?'--how would you answer him? just as if the two cases were at all alike! he said. { } [sidenote: socrates, thrasymachus, glaucon.] why should they not be? i replied; and even if they are not, but only appear to be so to the person who is asked, ought he not to say what he thinks, whether you and i forbid him or not? i presume then that you are going to make one of the interdicted answers? i dare say that i may, notwithstanding the danger, if upon reflection i approve of any of them. * d* but what if i give you an answer about justice other and better, he said, than any of these? what do you deserve to have done to you? done to me!--as becomes the ignorant, i must learn from the wise--that is what i deserve to have done to me. [sidenote: the sophist demands payment for his instructions. the company are very willing to contribute.] what, and no payment! a pleasant notion! i will pay when i have the money, i replied. but you have, socrates, said glaucon: and you, thrasymachus, need be under no anxiety about money, for we will all make a contribution for socrates. * e* yes, he replied, and then socrates will do as he always does --refuse to answer himself, but take and pull to pieces the answer of some one else. [sidenote: socrates knows little or nothing: how can he answer? and he is deterred by the interdict of thrasymachus.] why, my good friend, i said, how can any one answer who knows, and says that he knows, just nothing; and who, even if he has some faint notions of his own, is told by a man of authority not to utter them? the natural thing is, that * a* the speaker should be some one like yourself who professes to know and can tell what he knows. will you then kindly answer, for the edification of the company and of myself? glaucon and the rest of the company joined in my request, and thrasymachus, as any one might see, was in reality eager to speak; for he thought that he had an excellent answer, and would distinguish himself. but at first he affected to insist on my answering; at length he consented to begin. * b* behold, he said, the wisdom of socrates; he refuses to teach himself, and goes about learning of others, to whom he never even says thank you. that i learn of others, i replied, is quite true; but that i am ungrateful i wholly deny. money i have none, and therefore i pay in praise, which is all i have; and how ready { } i am to praise any one who appears to me to speak well you will very soon find out when you answer; for i expect that you will answer well. [sidenote: socrates, thrasymachus.] [sidenote: the definition of thrasymachus: 'justice is the interest of the stronger or ruler.'] * c* listen, then, he said; i proclaim that justice is nothing else than the interest of the stronger. and now why do you not praise me? but of course you won't. let me first understand you, i replied. justice, as you say, is the interest of the stronger. what, thrasymachus, is the meaning of this? you cannot mean to say that because polydamas, the pancratiast, is stronger than we are, and finds the eating of beef conducive to his bodily strength, that to * d* eat beef is therefore equally for our good who are weaker than he is, and right and just for us? that's abominable of you, socrates; you take the words in the sense which is most damaging to the argument. not at all, my good sir, i said; i am trying to understand them; and i wish that you would be a little clearer. well, he said, have you never heard that forms of government differ; there are tyrannies, and there are democracies, and there are aristocracies? yes, i know. and the government is the ruling power in each state? certainly. [sidenote: socrates compels thrasymachus to explain his meaning.] * e* and the different forms of government make laws democratical, aristocratical, tyrannical, with a view to their several interests; and these laws, which are made by them for their own interests, are the justice which they deliver to their subjects, and him who transgresses them they punish as a breaker of the law, and unjust. and that is what i mean when i say that in all states there is the same principle of justice, which is the interest of the government; and * a* as the government must be supposed to have power, the only reasonable conclusion is, that everywhere there is one principle of justice, which is the interest of the stronger. now i understand you, i said; and whether you are right or not i will try to discover. but let me remark, that in defining justice you have yourself used the word 'interest' which you forbade me to use. it is true, however, that in your definition the words 'of the stronger' are added. * b* a small addition, you must allow, he said. { } great or small, never mind about that: we must first enquire whether what you are saying is the truth. now we are both agreed that justice is interest of some sort, but you go on to say 'of the stronger'; about this addition i am not so sure, and must therefore consider further. proceed. [sidenote: he is dissatisfied with the explanation; for rulers may err.] i will; and first tell me, do you admit that it is just for subjects to obey their rulers? i do. * c* but are the rulers of states absolutely infallible, or are they sometimes liable to err? to be sure, he replied, they are liable to err. then in making their laws they may sometimes make them rightly, and sometimes not? true. when they make them rightly, they make them agreeably to their interest; when they are mistaken, contrary to their interest; you admit that? yes. and the laws which they make must be obeyed by their subjects,--and that is what you call justice? doubtless. [sidenote: and then the justice which makes a mistake will turn out to be the reverse of the interest of the stronger.] * d* then justice, according to your argument, is not only obedience to the interest of the stronger but the reverse? what is that you are saying? he asked. i am only repeating what you are saying, i believe. but let us consider: have we not admitted that the rulers may be mistaken about their own interest in what they command, and also that to obey them is justice? has not that been admitted? yes. * e* then you must also have acknowledged justice not to be for the interest of the stronger, when the rulers unintentionally command things to be done which are to their own injury. for if, as you say, justice is the obedience which the subject renders to their commands, in that case, o wisest of men, is there any escape from the conclusion that the weaker are commanded to do, not what is for the interest, but what is for the injury of the stronger? [sidenote: socrates, cleitophon, polemarchus, thrasymachus.] nothing can be clearer, socrates, said polemarchus. { } * a* yes, said cleitophon, interposing, if you are allowed to be his witness. but there is no need of any witness, said polemarchus, for thrasymachus himself acknowledges that rulers may sometimes command what is not for their own interest, and that for subjects to obey them is justice. [sidenote: cleitophon tries to make a way of escape for thrasymachus by inserting the words 'thought to be.'] yes, polemarchus,--thrasymachus said that for subjects to do what was commanded by their rulers is just. yes, cleitophon, but he also said that justice is the interest * b* of the stronger, and, while admitting both these propositions, he further acknowledged that the stronger may command the weaker who are his subjects to do what is not for his own interest; whence follows that justice is the injury quite as much as the interest of the stronger. but, said cleitophon, he meant by the interest of the stronger what the stronger thought to be his interest,--this was what the weaker had to do; and this was affirmed by him to be justice. those were not his words, rejoined polemarchus. * c* never mind, i replied, if he now says that they are, let us accept his statement. tell me, thrasymachus, i said, did you mean by justice what the stronger thought to be his interest, whether really so or not? [sidenote: this evasion is repudiated by thrasymachus;] certainly not, he said. do you suppose that i call him who is mistaken the stronger at the time when he is mistaken? yes, i said, my impression was that you did so, when you admitted that the ruler was not infallible but might be sometimes mistaken. [sidenote: who adopts another line of defence: 'no artist or ruler is ever mistaken _qua_ artist or ruler.'] * d* you argue like an informer, socrates. do you mean, for example, that he who is mistaken about the sick is a physician in that he is mistaken? or that he who errs in arithmetic or grammar is an arithmetician or grammarian at the time when he is making the mistake, in respect of the mistake? true, we say that the physician or arithmetician or grammarian has made a mistake, but this is only a way of speaking; for the fact is that neither the grammarian nor any other person of skill ever makes a mistake in so far as he is what his name implies; they none of them err unless their skill fails them, and then they cease to be skilled artists. { } no artist or sage or ruler errs at the time when he is what his name implies; though he is commonly said to err, and * e* i adopted the common mode of speaking. but to be perfectly accurate, since you are such a lover of accuracy, we should say that the ruler, in so far as he is a ruler, is unerring, and, * a* being unerring, always commands that which is for his own interest; and the subject is required to execute his commands; and therefore, as i said at first and now repeat, justice is the interest of the stronger. [sidenote: socrates, thrasymachus.] indeed, thrasymachus, and do i really appear to you to argue like an informer? certainly, he replied. and do you suppose that i ask these questions with any design of injuring you in the argument? nay, he replied, 'suppose' is not the word--i know it; * b* but you will be found out, and by sheer force of argument you will never prevail. i shall not make the attempt, my dear man; but to avoid any misunderstanding occurring between us in future, let me ask, in what sense do you speak of a ruler or stronger whose interest, as you were saying, he being the superior, it is just that the inferior should execute--is he a ruler in the popular or in the strict sense of the term? in the strictest of all senses, he said. and now cheat and play the informer if you can; i ask no quarter at your hands. but you never will be able, never. [sidenote: the essential meaning of words distinguished from their attributes.] * c* and do you imagine, i said, that i am such a madman as to try and cheat, thrasymachus? i might as well shave a lion. why, he said, you made the attempt a minute ago, and you failed. enough, i said, of these civilities. it will be better that i should ask you a question: is the physician, taken in that strict sense of which you are speaking, a healer of the sick or a maker of money? and remember that i am now speaking of the true physician. a healer of the sick, he replied. and the pilot--that is to say, the true pilot--is he a captain of sailors or a mere sailor? a captain of sailors. { } * d* the circumstance that he sails in the ship is not to be taken into account; neither is he to be called a sailor; the name pilot by which he is distinguished has nothing to do with sailing, but is significant of his skill and of his authority over the sailors. very true, he said. now, i said, every art has an interest? certainly. for which the art has to consider and provide? yes, that is the aim of art. and the interest of any art is the perfection of it--this and nothing else? * e* what do you mean? i mean what i may illustrate negatively by the example of the body. suppose you were to ask me whether the body is self-sufficing or has wants, i should reply: certainly the body has wants; for the body may be ill and require to be cured, and has therefore interests to which the art of medicine ministers; and this is the origin and intention of medicine, as you will acknowledge. am i not right? * a* quite right, he replied. [sidenote: art has no imperfection to be corrected, and therefore no extraneous interest.] but is the art of medicine or any other art faulty or deficient in any quality in the same way that the eye may be deficient in sight or the ear fail of hearing, and therefore requires another art to provide for the interests of seeing and hearing--has art in itself, i say, any similar liability to fault or defect, and does every art require another supplementary art to provide for its interests, and that another and another without end? or have the arts to look only * b* after their own interests? or have they no need either of themselves or of another?--having no faults or defects, they have no need to correct them, either by the exercise of their own art or of any other; they have only to consider the interest of their subject-matter. for every art remains pure and faultless while remaining true--that is to say, while perfect and unimpaired. take the words in your precise sense, and tell me whether i am not right. yes, clearly. [sidenote: illustrations.] * c* then medicine does not consider the interest of medicine, but the interest of the body? { } true, he said. nor does the art of horsemanship consider the interests of the art of horsemanship, but the interests of the horse; neither do any other arts care for themselves, for they have no needs; they care only for that which is the subject of their art? true, he said. but surely, thrasymachus, the arts are the superiors and rulers of their own subjects? to this he assented with a good deal of reluctance. then, i said, no science or art considers or enjoins the interest of the stronger or superior, but only the interest * d* of the subject and weaker? he made an attempt to contest this proposition also, but finally acquiesced. then, i continued, no physician, in so far as he is a physician, considers his own good in what he prescribes, but the good of his patient; for the true physician is also a ruler having the human body as a subject, and is not a mere money-maker; that has been admitted? yes. and the pilot likewise, in the strict sense of the term, is a ruler of sailors and not a mere sailor? * e* that has been admitted. and such a pilot and ruler will provide and prescribe for the interest of the sailor who is under him, and not for his own or the ruler's interest? he gave a reluctant 'yes.' [sidenote: the disinterestedness of rulers.] then, i said, thrasymachus, there is no one in any rule who, in so far as he is a ruler, considers or enjoins what is for his own interest, but always what is for the interest of his subject or suitable to his art; to that he looks, and that alone he considers in everything which he says and does. * a* when we had got to this point in the argument, and every one saw that the definition of justice had been completely upset, thrasymachus, instead of replying to me, said: tell me, socrates, have you got a nurse? [sidenote: the impudence of thrasymachus.] why do you ask such a question, i said, when you ought rather to be answering? because she leaves you to snivel, and never wipes your { } nose: she has not even taught you to know the shepherd from the sheep. what makes you say that? i replied. [sidenote: thrasymachus dilates upon the advantages of injustice,] [sidenote: especially when pursued on a great scale.]\ [sidenote: tyranny.] * b* because you fancy that the shepherd or neatherd fattens or tends the sheep or oxen with a view to their own good and not to the good of himself or his master; and you further imagine that the rulers of states, if they are true rulers, never think of their subjects as sheep, and that they are not studying their own advantage day and night. oh, no; * c* and so entirely astray are you in your ideas about the just and unjust as not even to know that justice and the just are in reality another's good; that is to say, the interest of the ruler and stronger, and the loss of the subject and servant; and injustice the opposite; for the unjust is lord over the truly simple and just: he is the stronger, and his subjects do what is for his interest, and minister to his * d* happiness, which is very far from being their own. consider further, most foolish socrates, that the just is always a loser in comparison with the unjust. first of all, in private contracts: wherever the unjust is the partner of the just you will find that, when the partnership is dissolved, the unjust man has always more and the just less. secondly, in their dealings with the state: when there is an income-tax, the just man will pay more and the unjust less on the same amount of income; and when there is anything to be * e* received the one gains nothing and the other much. observe also what happens when they take an office; there is the just man neglecting his affairs and perhaps suffering other losses, and getting nothing out of the public, because he is just; moreover he is hated by his friends and acquaintance for refusing to serve them in unlawful ways. but all this is reversed in the case of the unjust man. i am speaking, as before, * a* of injustice on a large scale in which the advantage of the unjust is most apparent; and my meaning will be most clearly seen if we turn to that highest form of injustice in which the criminal is the happiest of men, and the sufferers or those who refuse to do injustice are the most miserable--that is to say tyranny, which by fraud and force takes away the property of others, not little by little but wholesale; comprehending in one, things sacred as well as profane, * b* private { } and public; for which acts of wrong, if he were detected perpetrating any one of them singly, he would be punished and incur great disgrace--they who do such wrong in particular cases are called robbers of temples, and man-stealers and burglars and swindlers and thieves. but when a man besides taking away the money of the citizens has made slaves of them, then, instead of these names of reproach, he is * c* termed happy and blessed, not only by the citizens but by all who hear of his having achieved the consummation of injustice. for mankind censure injustice, fearing that they may be the victims of it and not because they shrink from committing it. and thus, as i have shown, socrates, injustice, when on a sufficient scale, has more strength and freedom and mastery than justice; and, as i said at first, justice is the interest of the stronger, whereas injustice is a man's own profit and interest. [sidenote: thrasymachus having made his speech wants to run away, but is detained by the company.] * d* thrasymachus, when he had thus spoken, having, like a bath-man, deluged our ears with his words, had a mind to go away. but the company would not let him; they insisted that he should remain and defend his position; and i myself added my own humble request that he would not leave us. thrasymachus, i said to him, excellent man, how suggestive are your remarks! and are you going to run away before you have fairly taught or learned whether they are true or not? * e* is the attempt to determine the way of man's life so small a matter in your eyes--to determine how life may be passed by each one of us to the greatest advantage? and do i differ from you, he said, as to the importance of the enquiry? you appear rather, i replied, to have no care or thought about us, thrasymachus--whether we live better or worse from not knowing what you say you know, is to you a matter of indifference. * a* prithee, friend, do not keep your knowledge to yourself; we are a large party; and any benefit which you confer upon us will be amply rewarded. for my own part i openly declare that i am not convinced, and that i do not believe injustice to be more gainful than justice, even if uncontrolled and allowed to have free play. for, granting that there may be an unjust man who is able to commit injustice either by fraud or force, still this does not convince me of the { } superior advantage of injustice, and there may be others who are in the same predicament with myself. perhaps we may be wrong; * b* if so, you in your wisdom should convince us that we are mistaken in preferring justice to injustice. [sidenote: the swagger of thrasymachus.] and how am i to convince you, he said, if you are not already convinced by what i have just said; what more can i do for you? would you have me put the proof bodily into your souls? heaven forbid! i said; i would only ask you to be consistent; or, if you change, change openly and let there be no deception. for i must remark, thrasymachus, if you will * c* recall what was previously said, that although you began by defining the true physician in an exact sense, you did not observe a like exactness when speaking of the shepherd; you thought that the shepherd as a shepherd tends the sheep not with a view to their own good, but like a mere diner or banquetter with a view to the pleasures of the table; or, again, as a trader for sale in the market, and not as a shepherd. * d* yet surely the art of the shepherd is concerned only with the good of his subjects; he has only to provide the best for them, since the perfection of the art is already ensured whenever all the requirements of it are satisfied. and that was what i was saying just now about the ruler. i conceived that the art of the ruler, considered as ruler, whether in a * e* state or in private life, could only regard the good of his flock or subjects; whereas you seem to think that the rulers in states, that is to say, the true rulers, like being in authority. think! nay, i am sure of it. [sidenote: the arts have different functions and are not to be confounded with the art of payment which is common to them all.] then why in the case of lesser offices do men never take them willingly without payment, unless under the idea that * a* they govern for the advantage not of themselves but of others? let me ask you a question: are not the several arts different, by reason of their each having a separate function? and, my dear illustrious friend, do say what you think, that we may make a little progress. yes, that is the difference, he replied. and each art gives us a particular good and not merely a general one--medicine, for example, gives us health; navigation, safety at sea, and so on? yes, he said. { } * b* and the art of payment has the special function of giving pay: but we do not confuse this with other arts, any more than the art of the pilot is to be confused with the art of medicine, because the health of the pilot may be improved by a sea voyage. you would not be inclined to say, would you, that navigation is the art of medicine, at least if we are to adopt your exact use of language? certainly not. or because a man is in good health when he receives pay you would not say that the art of payment is medicine? i should not. nor would you say that medicine is the art of receiving pay because a man takes fees when he is engaged in healing? * c* certainly not. and we have admitted, i said, that the good of each art is specially confined to the art? yes. then, if there be any good which all artists have in common, that is to be attributed to something of which they all have the common use? true, he replied. and when the artist is benefited by receiving pay the advantage is gained by an additional use of the art of pay, which is not the art professed by him? he gave a reluctant assent to this. * d* then the pay is not derived by the several artists from their respective arts. but the truth is, that while the art of medicine gives health, and the art of the builder builds a house, another art attends them which is the art of pay. the various arts may be doing their own business and benefiting that over which they preside, but would the artist receive any benefit from his art unless he were paid as well? i suppose not. * e* but does he therefore confer no benefit when he works for nothing? certainly, he confers a benefit. [sidenote: the true ruler or artist seeks, not his own advantage, but the perfection of his art; and therefore he must be paid.] then now, thrasymachus, there is no longer any doubt that neither arts nor governments provide for their own interests; but, as we were before saying, they rule and provide for the interests of their subjects who are the weaker { } and not the stronger--to their good they attend and not to the good of the superior. and this is the reason, my dear thrasymachus, why, as i was just now saying, no one is willing to govern; because no one likes to take in hand the reformation of evils which are not his concern without remuneration. * a* for, in the execution of his work, and in giving his orders to another, the true artist does not regard his own interest, but always that of his subjects; and therefore in order that rulers may be willing to rule, they must be paid in one of three modes of payment, money, or honour, or a penalty for refusing. [sidenote: three modes of paying rulers, money, honour, and a penalty for refusing to rule.] what do you mean, socrates? said glaucon. the first two modes of payment are intelligible enough, but what the penalty is i do not understand, or how a penalty can be a payment. you mean that you do not understand the nature of this * b* payment which to the best men is the great inducement to rule? of course you know that ambition and avarice are held to be, as indeed they are, a disgrace? very true. [sidenote: the penalty is the evil of being ruled by an inferior.] [sidenote: in a city composed wholly of good men there would be a great unwillingness to rule.] [sidenote: thrasymachus maintains that the life of the unjust is better than the life of the just.] and for this reason, i said, money and honour have no attraction for them; good men do not wish to be openly demanding payment for governing and so to get the name of hirelings, nor by secretly helping themselves out of the public revenues to get the name of thieves. and not being ambitious they do not care about honour. wherefore necessity * c* must be laid upon them, and they must be induced to serve from the fear of punishment. and this, as i imagine, is the reason why the forwardness to take office, instead of waiting to be compelled, has been deemed dishonourable. now the worst part of the punishment is that he who refuses to rule is liable to be ruled by one who is worse than himself. and the fear of this, as i conceive, induces the good to take * d* office, not because they would, but because they cannot help--not under the idea that they are going to have any benefit or enjoyment themselves, but as a necessity, and because they are not able to commit the task of ruling to any one who is better than themselves, or indeed as good. for there is reason to think that if a city were composed entirely of good men, then to avoid office would be as much an object of contention as to obtain office is at present; then we should { } have plain proof that the true ruler is not meant by nature to regard his own interest, but that of his subjects; and every one who knew this would choose rather to receive a benefit from another than to have the trouble of conferring one. * e* so far am i from agreeing with thrasymachus that justice is the interest of the stronger. this latter question need not be further discussed at present; but when thrasymachus says that the life of the unjust is more advantageous than that of the just, his new statement appears to me to be of a far more serious character. which of us has spoken truly? and which sort of life, glaucon, do you prefer? [sidenote: socrates, glaucon, thrasymachus.] i for my part deem the life of the just to be the more advantageous, he answered. * a* did you hear all the advantages of the unjust which thrasymachus was rehearsing? yes, i heard him, he replied, but he has not convinced me. then shall we try to find some way of convincing him, if we can, that he is saying what is not true? most certainly, he replied. if, i said, he makes a set speech and we make another recounting all the advantages of being just, and he answers and we rejoin, there must be a numbering and measuring * b* of the goods which are claimed on either side, and in the end we shall want judges to decide; but if we proceed in our enquiry as we lately did, by making admissions to one another, we shall unite the offices of judge and advocate in our own persons. very good, he said. and which method do i understand you to prefer? i said. that which you propose. well, then, thrasymachus, i said, suppose you begin at the beginning and answer me. you say that perfect injustice is more gainful than perfect justice? * c* yes, that is what i say, and i have given you my reasons. and what is your view about them? would you call one of them virtue and the other vice? certainly. i suppose that you would call justice virtue and injustice vice? [sidenote: a paradox still more extreme, that injustice is virtue,] what a charming notion! so likely too, seeing that i affirm injustice to be profitable and justice not. { } [sidenote: socrates, thrasymachus.] what else then would you say? the opposite, he replied. and would you call justice vice? no, i would rather say sublime simplicity. * d* then would you call injustice malignity? no; i would rather say discretion. and do the unjust appear to you to be wise and good? yes, he said; at any rate those of them who are able to be perfectly unjust, and who have the power of subduing states and nations; but perhaps you imagine me to be talking of cutpurses. even this profession if undetected has advantages, though they are not to be compared with those of which i was just now speaking. * e* i do not think that i misapprehend your meaning, thrasymachus, i replied; but still i cannot hear without amazement that you class injustice with wisdom and virtue, and justice with the opposite. certainly i do so class them. now, i said, you are on more substantial and almost unanswerable ground; for if the injustice which you were maintaining to be profitable had been admitted by you as by others to be vice and deformity, an answer might have been given to you on received principles; but now i perceive that * a* you will call injustice honourable and strong, and to the unjust you will attribute all the qualities which were attributed by us before to the just, seeing that you do not hesitate to rank injustice with wisdom and virtue. you have guessed most infallibly, he replied. then i certainly ought not to shrink from going through with the argument so long as i have reason to think that you, thrasymachus, are speaking your real mind; for i do believe that you are now in earnest and are not amusing yourself at our expense. i may be in earnest or not, but what is that to you?--to refute the argument is your business. [sidenote: refuted by the analogy of the arts.] * b* very true, i said; that is what i have to do: but will you be so good as answer yet one more question? does the just man try to gain any advantage over the just? far otherwise; if he did he would not be the simple amusing creature which he is. { } and would he try to go beyond just action? he would not. and how would he regard the attempt to gain an advantage over the unjust; would that be considered by him as just or unjust? [sidenote: the just tries to obtain an advantage over the unjust, but not over the just; the unjust over both just and unjust.] he would think it just, and would try to gain the advantage; but he would not be able. whether he would or would not be able, i said, is not to the point. * c* my question is only whether the just man, while refusing to have more than another just man, would wish and claim to have more than the unjust? yes, he would. and what of the unjust--does he claim to have more than the just man and to do more than is just? of course, he said, for he claims to have more than all men. and the unjust man will strive and struggle to obtain more than the unjust man or action, in order that he may have more than all? true. we may put the matter thus, i said--the just does not desire more than his like but more than his unlike, whereas the unjust desires more than both his like and his unlike? * d* nothing, he said, can be better than that statement. and the unjust is good and wise, and the just is neither? good again, he said. and is not the unjust like the wise and good and the just unlike them? of course, he said, he who is of a certain nature, is like those who are of a certain nature; he who is not, not. each of them, i said, is such as his like is? certainly, he replied. [sidenote: illustrations.] very good, thrasymachus, i said; and now to take the case of the arts: you would admit that one man is a musician and * e* another not a musician? yes. and which is wise and which is foolish? clearly the musician is wise, and he who is not a musician is foolish. and he is good in as far as he is wise, and bad in as far as he is foolish? { } yes. and you would say the same sort of thing of the physician? yes. and do you think, my excellent friend, that a musician when he adjusts the lyre would desire or claim to exceed or go beyond a musician in the tightening and loosening the strings? i do not think that he would. but he would claim to exceed the non-musician? of course. * a* and what would you say of the physician? in prescribing meats and drinks would he wish to go beyond another physician or beyond the practice of medicine? he would not. but he would wish to go beyond the non-physician? yes. [sidenote: the artist remains within the limits of his art:] and about knowledge and ignorance in general; see whether you think that any man who has knowledge ever would wish to have the choice of saying or doing more than another man who has knowledge. would he not rather say or do the same as his like in the same case? that, i suppose, can hardly be denied. and what of the ignorant? would he not desire to have * b* more than either the knowing or the ignorant? i dare say. and the knowing is wise? yes. and the wise is good? true. then the wise and good will not desire to gain more than his like, but more than his unlike and opposite? i suppose so. whereas the bad and ignorant will desire to gain more than both? yes. but did we not say, thrasymachus, that the unjust goes beyond both his like and unlike? were not these your words? they were. [sidenote: and similarly the just man does not exceed the limits of other just men.] * c* and you also said that the just will not go beyond his like but his unlike? { } yes. then the just is like the wise and good, and the unjust like the evil and ignorant? that is the inference. and each of them is such as his like is? that was admitted. then the just has turned out to be wise and good and the unjust evil and ignorant. [sidenote: thrasymachus perspiring and even blushing.] thrasymachus made all these admissions, not fluently, as * d* i repeat them, but with extreme reluctance; it was a hot summer's day, and the perspiration poured from him in torrents; and then i saw what i had never seen before, thrasymachus blushing. as we were now agreed that justice was virtue and wisdom, and injustice vice and ignorance, i proceeded to another point: well, i said, thrasymachus, that matter is now settled; but were we not also saying that injustice had strength; do you remember? yes, i remember, he said, but do not suppose that i approve of what you are saying or have no answer; if however i were to answer, you would be quite certain to accuse me of haranguing; * e* therefore either permit me to have my say out, or if you would rather ask, do so, and i will answer 'very good,' as they say to story-telling old women, and will nod 'yes' and 'no.' certainly not, i said, if contrary to your real opinion. yes, he said, i will, to please you, since you will not let me speak. what else would you have? nothing in the world, i said; and if you are so disposed i will ask and you shall answer. proceed. then i will repeat the question which i asked before, in * a* order that our examination of the relative nature of justice and injustice may be carried on regularly. a statement was made that injustice is stronger and more powerful than justice, but now justice, having been identified with wisdom and virtue, is easily shown to be stronger than injustice, if injustice is ignorance; this can no longer be questioned by any one. but i want to view the matter, thrasymachus, in a different way: * b* you would not deny that a state may be { } unjust and may be unjustly attempting to enslave other states, or may have already enslaved them, and may be holding many of them in subjection? true, he replied; and i will add that the best and most perfectly unjust state will be most likely to do so. i know, i said, that such was your position; but what i would further consider is, whether this power which is possessed by the superior state can exist or be exercised without justice or only with justice. [sidenote: at this point the temper of thrasymachus begins to improve. cp. . a, . c.] * c* if you are right in your view, and justice is wisdom, then only with justice; but if i am right, then without justice. i am delighted, thrasymachus, to see you not only nodding assent and dissent, but making answers which are quite excellent. that is out of civility to you, he replied. you are very kind, i said; and would you have the goodness also to inform me, whether you think that a state, or an army, or a band of robbers and thieves, or any other gang of evil-doers could act at all if they injured one another? * d* no indeed, he said, they could not. but if they abstained from injuring one another, then they might act together better? yes. and this is because injustice creates divisions and hatreds and fighting, and justice imparts harmony and friendship; is not that true, thrasymachus? [sidenote: perfect injustice, whether in state or individuals, is destructive to them.] i agree, he said, because i do not wish to quarrel with you. how good of you, i said; but i should like to know also whether injustice, having this tendency to arouse hatred, wherever existing, among slaves or among freemen, will not make them hate one another and set them at variance and render them incapable of common action? certainly. * e* and even if injustice be found in two only, will they not quarrel and fight, and become enemies to one another and to the just? they will. and suppose injustice abiding in a single person, would your wisdom say that she loses or that she retains her natural power? { } let us assume that she retains her power. yet is not the power which injustice exercises of such a nature that wherever she takes up her abode, whether in a city, in an army, in a family, or in any other body, that body is, * a* to begin with, rendered incapable of united action by reason of sedition and distraction; and does it not become its own enemy and at variance with all that opposes it, and with the just? is not this the case? yes, certainly. and is not injustice equally fatal when existing in a single person; in the first place rendering him incapable of action because he is not at unity with himself, and in the second place making him an enemy to himself and the just? is not that true, thrasymachus? yes. and o my friend, i said, surely the gods are just? granted that they are. * b* but if so, the unjust will be the enemy of the gods, and the just will be their friend? feast away in triumph, and take your fill of the argument; i will not oppose you, lest i should displease the company. [sidenote: recapitulation.] well then, proceed with your answers, and let me have the remainder of my repast. for we have already shown that the just are clearly wiser and better and abler than the unjust, and that the unjust are incapable of common action; * c* nay more, that to speak as we did of men who are evil acting at any time vigorously together, is not strictly true, for if they had been perfectly evil, they would have laid hands upon one another; but it is evident that there must have been some remnant of justice in them, which enabled them to combine; if there had not been they would have injured one another as well as their victims; they were but half-villains in their enterprises; for had they been whole villains, and utterly unjust, they would have been utterly incapable of action. * d* that, as i believe, is the truth of the matter, and not what you said at first. but whether the just have a better and happier life than the unjust is a further question which we also proposed to consider. i think that they have, and for the reasons which i have given; but still { } i should like to examine further, for no light matter is at stake, nothing less than the rule of human life. proceed. [sidenote: illustrations of ends and excellences preparatory to the enquiry into the end and excellence of the soul.] i will proceed by asking a question: would you not say that a horse has some end? * e* i should. and the end or use of a horse or of anything would be that which could not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing? i do not understand, he said. let me explain: can you see, except with the eye? certainly not. or hear, except with the ear? no. these then may be truly said to be the ends of these organs? they may. * a* but you can cut off a vine-branch with a dagger or with a chisel, and in many other ways? of course. and yet not so well as with a pruning-hook made for the purpose? true. may we not say that this is the end of a pruning-hook? we may. then now i think you will have no difficulty in understanding my meaning when i asked the question whether the end of anything would be that which could not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing? * b* i understand your meaning, he said, and assent. [sidenote: all things which have ends have also virtues and excellences by which they fulfil those ends.] and that to which an end is appointed has also an excellence? need i ask again whether the eye has an end? it has. and has not the eye an excellence? yes. and the ear has an end and an excellence also? true. and the same is true of all other things; they have each of them an end and a special excellence? that is so. well, and can the eyes fulfil their end if they are { } wanting * c* in their own proper excellence and have a defect instead? how can they, he said, if they are blind and cannot see? you mean to say, if they have lost their proper excellence, which is sight; but i have not arrived at that point yet. i would rather ask the question more generally, and only enquire whether the things which fulfil their ends fulfil them by their own proper excellence, and fail of fulfilling them by their own defect? certainly, he replied. i might say the same of the ears; when deprived of their own proper excellence they cannot fulfil their end? true. * d* and the same observation will apply to all other things? i agree. [sidenote: and the soul has a virtue and an end--the virtue justice, the end happiness.] well; and has not the soul an end which nothing else can fulfil? for example, to superintend and command and deliberate and the like. are not these functions proper to the soul, and can they rightly be assigned to any other? to no other. and is not life to be reckoned among the ends of the soul? assuredly, he said. and has not the soul an excellence also? yes. * e* and can she or can she not fulfil her own ends when deprived of that excellence? she cannot. then an evil soul must necessarily be an evil ruler and superintendent, and the good soul a good ruler? yes, necessarily. [sidenote: hence justice and happiness are necessarily connected.] and we have admitted that justice is the excellence of the soul, and injustice the defect of the soul? that has been admitted. then the just soul and the just man will live well, and the unjust man will live ill? that is what your argument proves. * a* and he who lives well is blessed and happy, and he who lives ill the reverse of happy? certainly. then the just is happy, and the unjust miserable? { } so be it. but happiness and not misery is profitable. of course. then, my blessed thrasymachus, injustice can never be more profitable than justice. let this, socrates, he said, be your entertainment at the bendidea. [sidenote: socrates is displeased with himself and with the argument.] for which i am indebted to you, i said, now that you have grown gentle towards me and have left off scolding. nevertheless, * b* i have not been well entertained; but that was my own fault and not yours. as an epicure snatches a taste of every dish which is successively brought to table, he not having allowed himself time to enjoy the one before, so have i gone from one subject to another without having discovered what i sought at first, the nature of justice. i left that enquiry and turned away to consider whether justice is virtue and wisdom or evil and folly; and when there arose a further question about the comparative advantages of justice and injustice, i could not refrain from passing on to that. and the result of the whole discussion has been that i know nothing at all. * c* for i know not what justice is, and therefore i am not likely to know whether it is or is not a virtue, nor can i say whether the just man is happy or unhappy. book ii. [sidenote: _republic ii._ socrates, glaucon.] * a* with these words i was thinking that i had made an end of the discussion; but the end, in truth, proved to be only a beginning. for glaucon, who is always the most pugnacious of men, was dissatisfied at thrasymachus' retirement; he wanted to have the battle out. so he said to me: socrates, do you wish really to persuade us, or only to seem to * b* have persuaded us, that to be just is always better than to be unjust? i should wish really to persuade you, i replied, if i could. [sidenote: the threefold division of goods.] then you certainly have not succeeded. let me ask you now:--how would you arrange goods--are there not some which we welcome for their own sakes, and independently of their consequences, as, for example, harmless pleasures and enjoyments, which delight us at the time, although nothing follows from them? i agree in thinking that there is such a class, i replied. * c* is there not also a second class of goods, such as knowledge, sight, health, which are desirable not only in themselves, but also for their results? certainly, i said. and would you not recognize a third class, such as gymnastic, and the care of the sick, and the physician's art; also the various ways of money-making--these do us good but we regard them as disagreeable; and no one would choose them * d* for their own sakes, but only for the sake of some reward or result which flows from them? there is, i said, this third class also. but why do you ask? because i want to know in which of the three classes you would place justice? * a* in the highest class, i replied,--among those goods which { } he who would be happy desires both for their own sake and for the sake of their results. then the many are of another mind; they think that justice is to be reckoned in the troublesome class, among goods which are to be pursued for the sake of rewards and of reputation, but in themselves are disagreeable and rather to be avoided. i know, i said, that this is their manner of thinking, and that this was the thesis which thrasymachus was maintaining just now, when he censured justice and praised injustice. but i am too stupid to be convinced by him. [sidenote: three heads of the argument:-- . the nature of justice: . justice a necessity, but not a good: . the reasonableness of this notion.] * b* i wish, he said, that you would hear me as well as him, and then i shall see whether you and i agree. for thrasymachus seems to me, like a snake, to have been charmed by your voice sooner than he ought to have been; but to my mind the nature of justice and injustice have not yet been made clear. setting aside their rewards and results, i want to know what they are in themselves, and how they inwardly work in the soul. if you please, then, i will revive the argument of thrasymachus. * c* and first i will speak of the nature and origin of justice according to the common view of them. secondly, i will show that all men who practise justice do so against their will, of necessity, but not as a good. and thirdly, i will argue that there is reason in this view, for the life of the unjust is after all better far than the life of the just--if what they say is true, socrates, since i myself am not of their opinion. but still i acknowledge that i am perplexed when i hear the voices of thrasymachus and myriads of others dinning in my ears; and, on the other hand, i have * d* never yet heard the superiority of justice to injustice maintained by any one in a satisfactory way. i want to hear justice praised in respect of itself; then i shall be satisfied, and you are the person from whom i think that i am most likely to hear this; and therefore i will praise the unjust life to the utmost of my power, and my manner of speaking will indicate the manner in which i desire to hear you too praising justice and censuring injustice. will you say whether you approve of my proposal? indeed i do; nor can i imagine any theme about which a man of sense would oftener wish to converse. { } [sidenote: glaucon.] * e* i am delighted, he replied, to hear you say so, and shall begin by speaking, as i proposed, of the nature and origin of justice. [sidenote: justice a compromise between doing and suffering evil.] they say that to do injustice is, by nature, good; to suffer injustice, evil; but that the evil is greater than the good. and so when men have both done and suffered injustice and * a* have had experience of both, not being able to avoid the one and obtain the other, they think that they had better agree among themselves to have neither; hence there arise laws and mutual covenants; and that which is ordained by law is termed by them lawful and just. this they affirm to be the origin and nature of justice;--it is a mean or compromise, between the best of all, which is to do injustice and not be punished, and the worst of all, which is to suffer injustice without the power of retaliation; and justice, being at a middle point between the two, is tolerated not as a good, but as the lesser evil, and honoured by reason of the inability of men to do injustice. * b* for no man who is worthy to be called a man would ever submit to such an agreement if he were able to resist; he would be mad if he did. such is the received account, socrates, of the nature and origin of justice. [sidenote: the story of gyges.] [sidenote: the application of the story of gyges.] now that those who practise justice do so involuntarily and because they have not the power to be unjust will best appear * c* if we imagine something of this kind: having given both to the just and the unjust power to do what they will, let us watch and see whither desire will lead them; then we shall discover in the very act the just and unjust man to be proceeding along the same road, following their interest, which all natures deem to be their good, and are only diverted into the path of justice by the force of law. the liberty which we are supposing may be most completely given to them in the form of such a power as is said to have been * d* possessed by gyges, the ancestor of croesus the lydian[ ]. according to the tradition, gyges was a shepherd in the service of the king of lydia; there was a great storm, and an earthquake made an opening in the earth at the place where he was feeding his flock. amazed at the sight, he { } descended into the opening, where, among other marvels, he beheld a hollow brazen horse, having doors, at which he stooping and looking in saw a dead body of stature, as appeared to him, more than human, and having nothing on but a gold ring; * e* this he took from the finger of the dead and reascended. now the shepherds met together, according to custom, that they might send their monthly report about the flocks to the king; into their assembly he came having the ring on his finger, and as he was sitting among them he chanced to turn the collet of the ring inside his hand, when instantly he became invisible to the rest of the company and they began to speak of him as if he were no longer present. * a* he was astonished at this, and again touching the ring he turned the collet outwards and reappeared; he made several trials of the ring, and always with the same result--when he turned the collet inwards he became invisible, when outwards he reappeared. whereupon he contrived to be chosen one of the messengers who were sent to the court; where as soon as he arrived * b* he seduced the queen, and with her help conspired against the king and slew him, and took the kingdom. suppose now that there were two such magic rings, and the just put on one of them and the unjust the other; no man can be imagined to be of such an iron nature that he would stand fast in justice. no man would keep his hands off what was not his own when he could safely take what he * c* liked out of the market, or go into houses and lie with any one at his pleasure, or kill or release from prison whom he would, and in all respects be like a god among men. then the actions of the just would be as the actions of the unjust; they would both come at last to the same point. and this we may truly affirm to be a great proof that a man is just, not willingly or because he thinks that justice is any good to him individually, but of necessity, for wherever any one thinks that he can safely be unjust, there he is unjust. for * d* all men believe in their hearts that injustice is far more profitable to the individual than justice, and he who argues as i have been supposing, will say that they are right. if you could imagine any one obtaining this power of becoming invisible, and never doing any wrong or touching what was another's, he would be thought by the lookers-on to be a { } most wretched idiot, although they would praise him to one another's faces, and keep up appearances with one another from a fear that they too might suffer injustice. enough of this. [footnote : reading [greek: gu/nê| tô=| kroi/sou tou= ludou= progo/nô|.] [sidenote: the unjust to be clothed with power and reputation.] [sidenote: the just to be unclothed of all but his virtue.] * e* now, if we are to form a real judgment of the life of the just and unjust, we must isolate them; there is no other way; and how is the isolation to be effected? i answer: let the unjust man be entirely unjust, and the just man entirely just; nothing is to be taken away from either of them, and both are to be perfectly furnished for the work of their respective lives. first, let the unjust be like other distinguished masters of craft; like the skilful pilot or * a* physician, who knows intuitively his own powers and keeps within their limits, and who, if he fails at any point, is able to recover himself. so let the unjust make his unjust attempts in the right way, and lie hidden if he means to be great in his injustice: (he who is found out is nobody:) for the highest reach of injustice is, to be deemed just when you are not. therefore i say that in the perfectly unjust man we must assume the most perfect injustice; there is to be no deduction, but we must allow him, while doing the most unjust acts, * b* to have acquired the greatest reputation for justice. if he have taken a false step he must be able to recover himself; he must be one who can speak with effect, if any of his deeds come to light, and who can force his way where force is required by his courage and strength, and command of money and friends. and at his side let us place the just man in his nobleness and simplicity, wishing, as aeschylus says, to be and not to seem good. there must be no seeming, * c* for if he seem to be just he will be honoured and rewarded, and then we shall not know whether he is just for the sake of justice or for the sake of honours and rewards; therefore, let him be clothed in justice only, and have no other covering; and he must be imagined in a state of life the opposite of the former. let him be the best of men, and let him be thought the worst; then he will have been put to the proof; and we shall see whether he will be affected by the fear of infamy and its consequences. and let him continue * d* thus to the hour of death; being just and seeming to be unjust. when both have reached the uttermost extreme, { } the one of justice and the other of injustice, let judgment be given which of them is the happier of the two. [sidenote: socrates, glaucon.] heavens! my dear glaucon, i said, how energetically you polish them up for the decision, first one and then the other, as if they were two statues. [sidenote: the just man will learn by each experience that he ought to seem and not to be just.] [sidenote: the unjust who appears just will attain every sort of prosperity.] i do my best, he said. and now that we know what they are like there is no difficulty in tracing out the sort of life * e* which awaits either of them. this i will proceed to describe; but as you may think the description a little too coarse, i ask you to suppose, socrates, that the words which follow are not mine.--let me put them into the mouths of the eulogists of injustice: they will tell you that the just man who is thought unjust will be scourged, racked, bound--will have his eyes burnt out; and, at last, after suffering every kind of evil, he will be impaled: then he will understand that he * a* ought to seem only, and not to be, just; the words of aeschylus may be more truly spoken of the unjust than of the just. for the unjust is pursuing a reality; he does not live with a view to appearances--he wants to be really unjust and not to seem only:-- 'his mind has a soil deep and fertile, * b* out of which spring his prudent counsels.'[ ] in the first place, he is thought just, and therefore bears rule in the city; he can marry whom he will, and give in marriage to whom he will; also he can trade and deal where he likes, and always to his own advantage, because he has no misgivings about injustice; and at every contest, whether in public or private, he gets the better of his antagonists, and gains at their expense, and is rich, and out of his gains he * c* can benefit his friends, and harm his enemies; moreover, he can offer sacrifices, and dedicate gifts to the gods abundantly and magnificently, and can honour the gods or any man whom he wants to honour in a far better style than the just, and therefore he is likely to be dearer than they are to the gods. and thus, socrates, gods and men are said to unite in making the life of the unjust better than the life of the just. [footnote : seven against thebes, .] [sidenote: adeimantus, socrates.] * d* i was going to say something in answer to glaucon, when { } adeimantus, his brother, interposed: socrates, he said, you do not suppose that there is nothing more to be urged? why, what else is there? i answered. the strongest point of all has not been even mentioned, he replied. well, then, according to the proverb, 'let brother help brother'--if he fails in any part do you assist him; although i must confess that glaucon has already said quite enough to lay me in the dust, and take from me the power of helping justice. [sidenote: adeimantus.] [sidenote: adeimantus takes up the argument. justice is praised and injustice blamed, but only out of regard to their consequences.] [sidenote: the rewards and punishments of another life.] * e* nonsense, he replied. but let me add something more: there is another side to glaucon's argument about the praise and censure of justice and injustice, which is equally required in order to bring out what i believe to be his meaning. parents and tutors are always telling their sons and their * a* wards that they are to be just; but why? not for the sake of justice, but for the sake of character and reputation; in the hope of obtaining for him who is reputed just some of those offices, marriages, and the like which glaucon has enumerated among the advantages accruing to the unjust from the reputation of justice. more, however, is made of appearances by this class of persons than by the others; for they throw in the good opinion of the gods, and will tell you of a shower of benefits which the heavens, as they say, rain upon the pious; and this accords with the testimony of the noble hesiod and homer, the first of whom says, that the gods * b* make the oaks of the just-- 'to bear acorns at their summit, and bees in the middle; and the sheep are bowed down with the weight of their fleeces[ ],' and many other blessings of a like kind are provided for them. and homer has a very similar strain; for he speaks of one whose fame is-- 'as the fame of some blameless king who, like a god, maintains justice; to whom the black earth brings forth * c* wheat and barley, whose trees are bowed with fruit, and his sheep never fail to bear, and the sea gives him fish[ ].' still grander are the gifts of heaven which musaeus and his son[ ] vouchsafe to the just; they take them down into the { } world below, where they have the saints lying on couches at a feast, everlastingly drunk, crowned with garlands; * d* their idea seems to be that an immortality of drunkenness is the highest meed of virtue. some extend their rewards yet further; the posterity, as they say, of the faithful and just shall survive to the third and fourth generation. this is the style in which they praise justice. but about the wicked there is another strain; they bury them in a slough in hades, and make them carry water in a sieve; also while they are yet living they bring them to infamy, and inflict * e* upon them the punishments which glaucon described as the portion of the just who are reputed to be unjust; nothing else does their invention supply. such is their manner of praising the one and censuring the other. [footnote : hesiod, works and days, .] [footnote : homer, od. xix. .] [footnote : eumolpus.] [sidenote: men are always repeating that virtue is painful and vice pleasant.] [sidenote: they are taught that sins may be easily expiated.] once more, socrates, i will ask you to consider another way of speaking about justice and injustice, which is not confined to the poets, * a* but is found in prose writers. the universal voice of mankind is always declaring that justice and virtue are honourable, but grievous and toilsome; and that the pleasures of vice and injustice are easy of attainment, and are only censured by law and opinion. they say also that honesty is for the most part less profitable than dishonesty; and they are quite ready to call wicked men happy, and to honour them both in public and private when they are rich or in any other way influential, while they despise and overlook * b* those who may be weak and poor, even though acknowledging them to be better than the others. but most extraordinary of all is their mode of speaking about virtue and the gods: they say that the gods apportion calamity and misery to many good men, and good and happiness to the wicked. and mendicant prophets go to rich men's doors and persuade them that they have a power committed to them by the gods of making an atonement for a man's own or his ancestor's * c* sins by sacrifices or charms, with rejoicings and feasts; and they promise to harm an enemy, whether just or unjust, at a small cost; with magic arts and incantations binding heaven, as they say, to execute their will. and the poets are the authorities to whom they appeal, now smoothing the path of vice with the words of hesiod;-- { } 'vice may be had in abundance without trouble; * d* the way is smooth and her dwelling-place is near. but before virtue the gods have set toil[ ],' and a tedious and uphill road: then citing homer as a witness that the gods may be influenced by men; for he also says:-- 'the gods, too, may be turned from their purpose; and men pray to them and avert their wrath by sacrifices and * e* soothing entreaties, and by libations and the odour of fat, when they have sinned and transgressed[ ].' and they produce a host of books written by musaeus and orpheus, who were children of the moon and the muses--that is what they say--according to which they perform their ritual, and persuade not only individuals, but whole cities, that expiations and atonements for sin may be made by sacrifices and amusements which fill a vacant hour, and are equally at the service of the living and the dead; the latter * a* sort they call mysteries, and they redeem us from the pains of hell, but if we neglect them no one knows what awaits us. [footnote : hesiod, works and days, .] [footnote : homer, iliad, ix. .] [sidenote: the effects of all this upon the youthful mind.] he proceeded: and now when the young hear all this said about virtue and vice, and the way in which gods and men regard them, how are their minds likely to be affected, my dear socrates,--those of them, i mean, who are quickwitted, and, like bees on the wing, light on every flower, and from all that they hear are prone to draw conclusions as to what manner of persons they should be and in what way they * b* should walk if they would make the best of life? probably the youth will say to himself in the words of pindar-- 'can i by justice or by crooked ways of deceit ascend a loftier tower which may be a fortress to me all my days?' [sidenote: the existence of the gods is only known to us through the poets, who likewise assure us that they may be bribed and that they are very ready to forgive.] for what men say is that, if i am really just and am not also thought just profit there is none, but the pain and loss on the other hand are unmistakeable. but if, though unjust, i acquire the reputation of justice, a heavenly life is promised to me. * c* since then, as philosophers prove, appearance tyrannizes over truth and is lord of happiness, to appearance i must devote myself. i will describe around me a picture and shadow of virtue to be the vestibule and exterior of my { } house; behind i will trail the subtle and crafty fox, as archilochus, greatest of sages, recommends. but i hear some one exclaiming that the concealment of wickedness is often difficult; * d* to which i answer, nothing great is easy. nevertheless, the argument indicates this, if we would be happy, to be the path along which we should proceed. with a view to concealment we will establish secret brotherhoods and political clubs. and there are professors of rhetoric who teach the art of persuading courts and assemblies; and so, partly by persuasion and partly by force, i shall make unlawful gains and not be punished. still i hear a voice saying that the gods cannot be deceived, neither can they be compelled. but what if there are no gods? or, suppose them to have no care of human things--why in either case * e* should we mind about concealment? and even if there are gods, and they do care about us, yet we know of them only from tradition and the genealogies of the poets; and these are the very persons who say that they may be influenced and turned by 'sacrifices and soothing entreaties and by offerings.' let us be consistent then, and believe both or neither. if the poets speak truly, why then we had better * a* be unjust, and offer of the fruits of injustice; for if we are just, although we may escape the vengeance of heaven, we shall lose the gains of injustice; but, if we are unjust, we shall keep the gains, and by our sinning and praying, and praying and sinning, the gods will be propitiated, and we shall not be punished. 'but there is a world below in which either we or our posterity will suffer for our unjust deeds.' yes, my friend, will be the reflection, but there are mysteries and atoning deities, and these have great power. that is * b* what mighty cities declare; and the children of the gods, who were their poets and prophets, bear a like testimony. [sidenote: all this, even if not absolutely true, affords great excuse for doing wrong.] on what principle, then, shall we any longer choose justice rather than the worst injustice? when, if we only unite the latter with a deceitful regard to appearances, we shall fare to our mind both with gods and men, in life and after death, as the most numerous and the highest authorities tell us. * c* knowing all this, socrates, how can a man who has any superiority of mind or person or rank or wealth, be willing to honour justice; or indeed to refrain from laughing when he hears { } justice praised? and even if there should be some one who is able to disprove the truth of my words, and who is satisfied that justice is best, still he is not angry with the unjust, but is very ready to forgive them, because he also * d* knows that men are not just of their own free will; unless, peradventure, there be some one whom the divinity within him may have inspired with a hatred of injustice, or who has attained knowledge of the truth--but no other man. he only blames injustice who, owing to cowardice or age or some weakness, has not the power of being unjust. and this is proved by the fact that when he obtains the power, he immediately becomes unjust as far as he can be. [sidenote: men should be taught that justice is in itself the greatest good and injustice the greatest evil.] the cause of all this, socrates, was indicated by us at the beginning of the argument, when my brother and i told you how astonished we were to find that of all the professing * e* panegyrists of justice--beginning with the ancient heroes of whom any memorial has been preserved to us, and ending with the men of our own time--no one has ever blamed injustice or praised justice except with a view to the glories, honours, and benefits which flow from them. no one has ever adequately described either in verse or prose the true essential nature of either of them abiding in the soul, and invisible to any human or divine eye; or shown that of all the things of a man's soul which he has within him, justice is * a* the greatest good, and injustice the greatest evil. had this been the universal strain, had you sought to persuade us of this from our youth upwards, we should not have been on the watch to keep one another from doing wrong, but every one would have been his own watchman, because afraid, if he did wrong, of harbouring in himself the greatest of evils. i dare say that thrasymachus and others would seriously hold the language which i have been merely repeating, and words even stronger than these about justice and injustice, grossly, as i conceive, perverting their true nature. but i speak in this * b* vehement manner, as i must frankly confess to you, because i want to hear from you the opposite side; and i would ask you to show not only the superiority which justice has over injustice, but what effect they have on the possessor of them which makes the one to be a good and the other an evil to him. and please, as glaucon requested of you, to { } exclude reputations; for unless you take away from each of them his true reputation and add on the false, we shall say that you do not praise justice, but the appearance of it; * c* we shall think that you are only exhorting us to keep injustice dark, and that you really agree with thrasymachus in thinking that justice is another's good and the interest of the stronger, and that injustice is a man's own profit and interest, though injurious to the weaker. now as you have admitted that justice is one of that highest class of goods which are desired indeed for their results, but in a far greater * d* degree for their own sakes--like sight or hearing or knowledge or health, or any other real and natural and not merely conventional good--i would ask you in your praise of justice to regard one point only: i mean the essential good and evil which justice and injustice work in the possessors of them. let others praise justice and censure injustice, magnifying the rewards and honours of the one and abusing the other; that is a manner of arguing which, coming from them, i am ready to tolerate, but from you who have spent your whole life in the consideration of this question, unless i hear * e* the contrary from your own lips, i expect something better. and therefore, i say, not only prove to us that justice is better than injustice, but show what they either of them do to the possessor of them, which makes the one to be a good and the other an evil, whether seen or unseen by gods and men. [sidenote: adeimantus, socrates.] [sidenote: glaucon and adeimantus able to argue so well, but unconvinced by their own arguments.] i had always admired the genius of glaucon and adeimantus, but on hearing these words i was quite delighted, and said: * a* sons of an illustrious father, that was not a bad beginning of the elegiac verses which the admirer of glaucon made in honour of you after you had distinguished yourselves at the battle of megara:-- 'sons of ariston,' he sang, 'divine offspring of an illustrious hero.' the epithet is very appropriate, for there is something truly divine in being able to argue as you have done for the superiority of injustice, and remaining unconvinced by your own arguments. * b* and i do believe that you are not convinced--this i infer from your general character, for had i judged only from your speeches i should have mistrusted you. but now, the greater my confidence in you, the greater is my { } difficulty in knowing what to say. for i am in a strait between two; on the one hand i feel that i am unequal to the task; and my inability is brought home to me by the fact that you were not satisfied with the answer which i made to thrasymachus, proving, as i thought, the superiority which justice has over injustice. and yet i cannot refuse to help, while breath and speech remain to me; i am afraid that there would be an impiety in being present when justice * c* is evil spoken of and not lifting up a hand in her defence. and therefore i had best give such help as i can. [sidenote: the large letters.] glaucon and the rest entreated me by all means not to let the question drop, but to proceed in the investigation. they wanted to arrive at the truth, first, about the nature of justice and injustice, and secondly, about their relative advantages. i told them, what i really thought, that the enquiry would be of a serious nature, and would require very good eyes. * d* seeing then, i said, that we are no great wits, i think that we had better adopt a method which i may illustrate thus; suppose that a short-sighted person had been asked by some one to read small letters from a distance; and it occurred to some one else that they might be found in another place which was larger and in which the letters were larger--if they were the same and he could read the larger letters first, and then proceed to the lesser--this would have been thought a rare piece of good fortune. very true, said adeimantus; but how does the illustration * e* apply to our enquiry? i will tell you, i replied; justice, which is the subject of our enquiry, is, as you know, sometimes spoken of as the virtue of an individual, and sometimes as the virtue of a state. true, he replied. and is not a state larger than an individual? it is. [sidenote: justice to be seen in the state more easily than in the individual.] then in the larger the quantity of justice is likely to be larger and more easily discernible. i propose therefore that we enquire into the nature of justice and injustice, first as * a* they appear in the state, and secondly in the individual, proceeding from the greater to the lesser and comparing them. { } that, he said, is an excellent proposal. and if we imagine the state in process of creation, we shall see the justice and injustice of the state in process of creation also. i dare say. when the state is completed there may be a hope that the object of our search will be more easily discovered. * b* yes, far more easily. but ought we to attempt to construct one? i said; for to do so, as i am inclined to think, will be a very serious task. reflect therefore. i have reflected, said adeimantus, and am anxious that you should proceed. [sidenote: the state arises out of the wants of men.] a state, i said, arises, as i conceive, out of the needs of mankind; no one is self-sufficing, but all of us have many wants. can any other origin of a state be imagined? there can be no other. * c* then, as we have many wants, and many persons are needed to supply them, one takes a helper for one purpose and another for another; and when these partners and helpers are gathered together in one habitation the body of inhabitants is termed a state. true, he said. and they exchange with one another, and one gives, and another receives, under the idea that the exchange will be for their good. very true. then, i said, let us begin and create in idea a state; and yet the true creator is necessity, who is the mother of our invention. of course, he replied. [sidenote: the four or five greater needs of life, and the four or five kinds of citizens who correspond to them.] * d* now the first and greatest of necessities is food, which is the condition of life and existence. certainly. the second is a dwelling, and the third clothing and the like. true. and now let us see how our city will be able to supply this great demand: we may suppose that one man is a husbandman, another a builder, some one else a weaver-- { } shall we add to them a shoemaker, or perhaps some other purveyor to our bodily wants? quite right. the barest notion of a state must include four or five men. * e* clearly. [sidenote: the division of labour.] and how will they proceed? will each bring the result of his labours into a common stock?--the individual husbandman, for example, producing for four, and labouring four times as long and as much as he need in the provision of food with which he supplies others as well as himself; or will he have nothing to do with others and not be at the trouble of producing for them, but provide for himself alone * a* a fourth of the food in a fourth of the time, and in the remaining three fourths of his time be employed in making a house or a coat or a pair of shoes, having no partnership with others, but supplying himself all his own wants? adeimantus thought that he should aim at producing food only and not at producing everything. probably, i replied, that would be the better way; and when i hear you say this, i am myself reminded that we are * b* not all alike; there are diversities of natures among us which are adapted to different occupations. very true. and will you have a work better done when the workman has many occupations, or when he has only one? when he has only one. further, there can be no doubt that a work is spoilt when not done at the right time? no doubt. for business is not disposed to wait until the doer of the business is at leisure; but the doer must follow up what he * c* is doing, and make the business his first object. he must. and if so, we must infer that all things are produced more plentifully and easily and of a better quality when one man does one thing which is natural to him and does it at the right time, and leaves other things. undoubtedly. [sidenote: the first citizens are:-- . a husbandman, . a builder. . a weaver, . a shoemaker. to these must be added:-- . a carpenter, . a smith, etc., . merchants, . retailers.] then more than four citizens will be required; for the husbandman will not make his own plough or mattock, or { } * d* other implements of agriculture, if they are to be good for anything. neither will the builder make his tools--and he too needs many; and in like manner the weaver and shoemaker. true. then carpenters, and smiths, and many other artisans, will be sharers in our little state, which is already beginning to grow? true. yet even if we add neatherds, shepherds, and other herdsmen, * e* in order that our husbandmen may have oxen to plough with, and builders as well as husbandmen may have draught cattle, and curriers and weavers fleeces and hides,--still our state will not be very large. that is true; yet neither will it be a very small state which contains all these. then, again, there is the situation of the city--to find a place where nothing need be imported is wellnigh impossible. impossible. then there must be another class of citizens who will bring the required supply from another city? there must. * a* but if the trader goes empty-handed, having nothing which they require who would supply his need, he will come back empty-handed. that is certain. and therefore what they produce at home must be not only enough for themselves, but such both in quantity and quality as to accommodate those from whom their wants are supplied. very true. then more husbandmen and more artisans will be required? they will. not to mention the importers and exporters, who are called merchants? yes. then we shall want merchants? we shall. and if merchandise is to be carried over the sea, skilful * b* sailors will also be needed, and in considerable numbers? yes, in considerable numbers. then, again, within the city, how will they exchange their { } productions? to secure such an exchange was, as you will remember, one of our principal objects when we formed them into a society and constituted a state. clearly they will buy and sell. then they will need a market-place, and a money-token for purposes of exchange. certainly. [sidenote: the origin of retail trade.] * c* suppose now that a husbandman, or an artisan, brings some production to market, and he comes at a time when there is no one to exchange with him,--is he to leave his calling and sit idle in the market-place? not at all; he will find people there who, seeing the want, undertake the office of salesmen. in well-ordered states they are commonly those who are the weakest in bodily strength, and therefore of little use for any other purpose; their duty is * d* to be in the market, and to give money in exchange for goods to those who desire to sell and to take money from those who desire to buy. this want, then, creates a class of retail-traders in our state. is not 'retailer' the term which is applied to those who sit in the market-place engaged in buying and selling, while those who wander from one city to another are called merchants? yes, he said. * e* and there is another class of servants, who are intellectually hardly on the level of companionship; still they have plenty of bodily strength for labour, which accordingly they sell, and are called, if i do not mistake, hirelings, hire being the name which is given to the price of their labour. true. then hirelings will help to make up our population? yes. and now, adeimantus, is our state matured and perfected? i think so. where, then, is justice, and where is injustice, and in what part of the state did they spring up? * a* probably in the dealings of these citizens with one another. i cannot imagine that they are more likely to be found any where else. i dare say that you are right in your suggestion, i said; { } we had better think the matter out, and not shrink from the enquiry. [sidenote: a picture of primitive life.] let us then consider, first of all, what will be their way of life, now that we have thus established them. will they not produce corn, and wine, and clothes, and shoes, and build houses for themselves? and when they are housed, they will work, in summer, commonly, stripped and barefoot, but * b* in winter substantially clothed and shod. they will feed on barley-meal and flour of wheat, baking and kneading them, making noble cakes and loaves; these they will serve up on a mat of reeds or on clean leaves, themselves reclining the while upon beds strewn with yew or myrtle. and they and their children will feast, drinking of the wine which they have made, wearing garlands on their heads, and hymning the praises of the gods, in happy converse with one another. * c* and they will take care that their families do not exceed their means; having an eye to poverty or war. [sidenote: socrates, glaucon.] but, said glaucon, interposing, you have not given them a relish to their meal. true, i replied, i had forgotten; of course they must have a relish--salt, and olives, and cheese, and they will boil roots and herbs such as country people prepare; for a dessert we shall give them figs, and peas, and beans; and they will roast myrtle-berries and acorns at the fire, drinking in moderation. * d* and with such a diet they may be expected to live in peace and health to a good old age, and bequeath a similar life to their children after them. yes, socrates, he said, and if you were providing for a city of pigs, how else would you feed the beasts? but what would you have, glaucon? i replied. why, he said, you should give them the ordinary conveniences of life. people who are to be comfortable are accustomed to lie on sofas, and dine off tables, and they should * e* have sauces and sweets in the modern style. [sidenote: a luxurious state must be called into existence,] yes, i said, now i understand: the question which you would have me consider is, not only how a state, but how a luxurious state is created; and possibly there is no harm in this, for in such a state we shall be more likely to see how justice and injustice originate. in my opinion the true and healthy constitution of the state is the one which i have { } described. but if you wish also to see a state at fever-heat, i have no objection. for i suspect that many will not be * a* satisfied with the simpler way of life. they will be for adding sofas, and tables, and other furniture; also dainties, and perfumes, and incense, and courtesans, and cakes, all these not of one sort only, but in every variety; we must go beyond the necessaries of which i was at first speaking, such as houses, and clothes, and shoes: the arts of the painter and the embroiderer will have to be set in motion, and gold and ivory and all sorts of materials must be procured. * b* true, he said. [sidenote: and in this many new callings will be required.] then we must enlarge our borders; for the original healthy state is no longer sufficient. now will the city have to fill and swell with a multitude of callings which are not required by any natural want; such as the whole tribe of hunters and actors, of whom one large class have to do with forms and colours; another will be the votaries of music--poets and their attendant train of rhapsodists, players, dancers, contractors; also makers of divers kinds of articles, * c* including women's dresses. and we shall want more servants. will not tutors be also in request, and nurses wet and dry, tirewomen and barbers, as well as confectioners and cooks; and swineherds, too, who were not needed and therefore had no place in the former edition of our state, but are needed now? they must not be forgotten: and there will be animals of many other kinds, if people eat them. certainly. * d* and living in this way we shall have much greater need of physicians than before? much greater. and the country which was enough to support the original inhabitants will be too small now, and not enough? quite true. [sidenote: the territory of our state must be enlarged; and hence will arise war between us and our neighbours.] then a slice of our neighbours' land will be wanted by us for pasture and tillage, and they will want a slice of ours, if, like ourselves, they exceed the limit of necessity, and give themselves up to the unlimited accumulation of wealth? * e* that, socrates, will be inevitable. and so we shall go to war, glaucon. shall we not? most certainly, he replied. { } then without determining as yet whether war does good or harm, thus much we may affirm, that now we have discovered war to be derived from causes which are also the causes of almost all the evils in states, private as well as public. undoubtedly. and our state must once more enlarge; and this time the enlargement will be nothing short of a whole army, which * a* will have to go out and fight with the invaders for all that we have, as well as for the things and persons whom we were describing above. why? he said; are they not capable of defending themselves? [sidenote: war is an art, and as no art can be pursued with success unless a man's whole attention is devoted to it, a soldier cannot be allowed to exercise any calling but his own.] no, i said; not if we were right in the principle which was acknowledged by all of us when we were framing the state: the principle, as you will remember, was that one man cannot practise many arts with success. very true, he said. * b* but is not war an art? certainly. and an art requiring as much attention as shoemaking? quite true. [sidenote: the warrior's art requires a long apprenticeship and many natural gifts.] and the shoemaker was not allowed by us to be a husbandman, or a weaver, or a builder--in order that we might have our shoes well made; but to him and to every other worker was assigned one work for which he was by nature fitted, and * c* at that he was to continue working all his life long and at no other; he was not to let opportunities slip, and then he would become a good workman. now nothing can be more important than that the work of a soldier should be well done. but is war an art so easily acquired that a man may be a warrior who is also a husbandman, or shoemaker, or other artisan; although no one in the world would be a good dice or draught player who merely took up the game as a recreation, and had not from his earliest years devoted himself to this and nothing else? no tools will make a man a skilled workman, or master of defence, nor be of any use to him who has not learned how to handle them, and has never * d* bestowed any attention upon them. how then will he who takes up a shield or other implement of war become a good { } fighter all in a day, whether with heavy-armed or any other kind of troops? yes, he said, the tools which would teach men their own use would be beyond price. and the higher the duties of the guardian, i said, the more * e* time, and skill, and art, and application will be needed by him? no doubt, he replied. will he not also require natural aptitude for his calling? certainly. [sidenote: the selection of guardians.] then it will be our duty to select, if we can, natures which are fitted for the task of guarding the city? it will. and the selection will be no easy matter, i said; but we must be brave and do our best. * a* we must. is not the noble youth very like a well-bred dog in respect of guarding and watching? what do you mean? i mean that both of them ought to be quick to see, and swift to overtake the enemy when they see him; and strong too if, when they have caught him, they have to fight with him. all these qualities, he replied, will certainly be required by them. well, and your guardian must be brave if he is to fight well? certainly. and is he likely to be brave who has no spirit, whether horse or dog or any other animal? have you never observed * b* how invincible and unconquerable is spirit and how the presence of it makes the soul of any creature to be absolutely fearless and indomitable? i have. then now we have a clear notion of the bodily qualities which are required in the guardian. true. and also of the mental ones; his soul is to be full of spirit? yes. but are not these spirited natures apt to be savage with one another, and with everybody else? { } a difficulty by no means easy to overcome, he replied. * c* whereas, i said, they ought to be dangerous to their enemies, and gentle to their friends; if not, they will destroy themselves without waiting for their enemies to destroy them. true, he said. what is to be done then? i said; how shall we find a gentle nature which has also a great spirit, for the one is the contradiction of the other? true. [sidenote: the guardian must unite the opposite qualities of gentleness and spirit.] he will not be a good guardian who is wanting in either of these two qualities; and yet the combination of them * d* appears to be impossible; and hence we must infer that to be a good guardian is impossible. i am afraid that what you say is true, he replied. here feeling perplexed i began to think over what had preceded.--my friend, i said, no wonder that we are in a perplexity; for we have lost sight of the image which we had before us. what do you mean? he said. i mean to say that there do exist natures gifted with those opposite qualities. and where do you find them? [sidenote: such a combination may be observed in the dog.] many animals, i replied, furnish examples of them; our * e* friend the dog is a very good one: you know that well-bred dogs are perfectly gentle to their familiars and acquaintances, and the reverse to strangers. yes, i know. then there is nothing impossible or out of the order of nature in our finding a guardian who has a similar combination of qualities? certainly not. would not he who is fitted to be a guardian, besides the spirited nature, need to have the qualities of a philosopher? i do not apprehend your meaning. * a* the trait of which i am speaking, i replied, may be also seen in the dog, and is remarkable in the animal. what trait? [sidenote: the dog distinguishes friend and enemy by the criterion of knowing and not knowing:] why, a dog, whenever he sees a stranger, is angry; when an acquaintance, he welcomes him, although the one has { } never done him any harm, nor the other any good. did this never strike you as curious? the matter never struck me before; but i quite recognise the truth of your remark. and surely this instinct of the dog is very charming;-- * b* your dog is a true philosopher. why? why, because he distinguishes the face of a friend and of an enemy only by the criterion of knowing and not knowing. and must not an animal be a lover of learning who determines what he likes and dislikes by the test of knowledge and ignorance? most assuredly. [sidenote: whereby he is shown to be a philosopher.] and is not the love of learning the love of wisdom, which is philosophy? they are the same, he replied. and may we not say confidently of man also, that he who * c* is likely to be gentle to his friends and acquaintances, must by nature be a lover of wisdom and knowledge? that we may safely affirm. then he who is to be a really good and noble guardian of the state will require to unite in himself philosophy and spirit and swiftness and strength? undoubtedly. [sidenote: how are our citizens to be reared and educated?] then we have found the desired natures; and now that we have found them, how are they to be reared and educated? is not this an enquiry which may be expected to throw light * d* on the greater enquiry which is our final end--how do justice and injustice grow up in states? for we do not want either to omit what is to the point or to draw out the argument to an inconvenient length. [sidenote: socrates, adeimantus.] adeimantus thought that the enquiry would be of great service to us. then, i said, my dear friend, the task must not be given up, even if somewhat long. certainly not. come then, and let us pass a leisure hour in story-telling, and our story shall be the education of our heroes. * e* by all means. and what shall be their education? can we find a better { } than the traditional sort?--and this has two divisions, gymnastic for the body, and music for the soul. true. [sidenote: education divided into gymnastic for the body and music for the soul. music includes literature, which may be true or false.] shall we begin education with music, and go on to gymnastic afterwards? by all means. and when you speak of music, do you include literature or not? i do. and literature may be either true or false? yes. * a* and the young should be trained in both kinds, and we begin with the false? i do not understand your meaning, he said. you know, i said, that we begin by telling children stories which, though not wholly destitute of truth, are in the main fictitious; and these stories are told them when they are not of an age to learn gymnastics. very true. that was my meaning when i said that we must teach music before gymnastics. quite right, he said. [sidenote: the beginning the most important part of education.] you know also that the beginning is the most important * b* part of any work, especially in the case of a young and tender thing; for that is the time at which the character is being formed and the desired impression is more readily taken. quite true. and shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales which may be devised by casual persons, and to receive into their minds ideas for the most part the very opposite of those which we should wish them to have when they are grown up? we cannot. [sidenote: works of fiction to be placed under a censorship.] then the first thing will be to establish a censorship of * c* the writers of fiction, and let the censors receive any tale of fiction which is good, and reject the bad; and we will desire mothers and nurses to tell their children the authorised ones only. let them fashion the mind with such tales, even more fondly than they mould the body with their hands; but most of those which are now in use must be discarded. { } of what tales are you speaking? he said. you may find a model of the lesser in the greater, i said; * d* for they are necessarily of the same type, and there is the same spirit in both of them. very likely, he replied; but i do not as yet know what you would term the greater. [sidenote: homer and hesiod are tellers of bad lies, that is to say, they give false representations of the gods,] those, i said, which are narrated by homer and hesiod, and the rest of the poets, who have ever been the great story-tellers of mankind. but which stories do you mean, he said; and what fault do you find with them? a fault which is most serious, i said; the fault of telling a lie, and, what is more, a bad lie. but when is this fault committed? * e* whenever an erroneous representation is made of the nature of gods and heroes,--as when a painter paints a portrait not having the shadow of a likeness to the original. yes, he said, that sort of thing is certainly very blameable; but what are the stories which you mean? first of all, i said, there was that greatest of all lies in high places, which the poet told about uranus, and which was a bad lie too,--i mean what hesiod says that uranus did, * a* and how cronus retaliated on him[ ]. the doings of cronus, and the sufferings which in turn his son inflicted upon him, even if they were true, ought certainly not to be lightly told to young and thoughtless persons; if possible, they had better be buried in silence. but if there is an absolute necessity for their mention, a chosen few might hear them in a mystery, and they should sacrifice not a common [eleusinian] pig, but some huge and unprocurable victim; and then the number of the hearers will be very few indeed. [footnote : hesiod, theogony, , .] why, yes, said he, those stories are extremely objectionable. [sidenote: which have a bad effect on the minds of youth.] * b* yes, adeimantus, they are stories not to be repeated in our state; the young man should not be told that in committing the worst of crimes he is far from doing anything outrageous; and that even if he chastises his father when he does wrong, in whatever manner, he will only be following the example of the first and greatest among the gods. { } i entirely agree with you, he said; in my opinion those stories are quite unfit to be repeated. [sidenote: the stories about the quarrels of the gods and their evil behaviour to one another are untrue.] [sidenote: and allegorical interpretations of them are not understood by the young.] neither, if we mean our future guardians to regard the habit of quarrelling among themselves as of all things the basest, should any word be said to them of the wars in heaven, * c* and of the plots and fightings of the gods against one another, for they are not true. no, we shall never mention the battles of the giants, or let them be embroidered on garments; and we shall be silent about the innumerable other quarrels of gods and heroes with their friends and relatives. if they would only believe us we would tell them that quarrelling is unholy, and that never up to this time * d* has there been any quarrel between citizens; this is what old men and old women should begin by telling children; and when they grow up, the poets also should be told to compose for them in a similar spirit[ ]. but the narrative of hephaestus binding here his mother, or how on another occasion zeus sent him flying for taking her part when she was being beaten, and all the battles of the gods in homer--these tales must not be admitted into our state, whether they are supposed to have an allegorical meaning or not. for a young person cannot judge what is allegorical and * e* what is literal; anything that he receives into his mind at that age is likely to become indelible and unalterable; and therefore it is most important that the tales which the young first hear should be models of virtuous thoughts. [footnote : placing the comma after [greek: grausi/], and not after [greek: gignome/nois].] there you are right, he replied; but if any one asks where are such models to be found and of what tales are you speaking--how shall we answer him? * a* i said to him, you and i, adeimantus, at this moment are not poets, but founders of a state: now the founders of a state ought to know the general forms in which poets should cast their tales, and the limits which must be observed by them, but to make the tales is not their business. very true, he said; but what are these forms of theology which you mean? [sidenote: god is to be represented as he truly is.] something of this kind, i replied:--god is always to be represented as he truly is, whatever be the sort of poetry, epic, lyric or tragic, in which the representation is given. right. { } * b* and is he not truly good? and must he not be represented as such? certainly. and no good thing is hurtful? no, indeed. and that which is not hurtful hurts not? certainly not. and that which hurts not does no evil? no. and can that which does no evil be a cause of evil? impossible. and the good is advantageous? yes. and therefore the cause of well-being? yes. it follows therefore that the good is not the cause of all things, but of the good only? * c* assuredly. [sidenote: god, if he be good, is the author of good only.] then god, if he be good, is not the author of all things, as the many assert, but he is the cause of a few things only, and not of most things that occur to men. for few are the goods of human life, and many are the evils, and the good is to be attributed to god alone; of the evils the causes are to be sought elsewhere, and not in him. that appears to me to be most true, he said. [sidenote: the fictions of the poets.] [sidenote: only that evil which is of the nature of punishment to be attributed to god.] then we must not listen to homer or to any other poet * d* who is guilty of the folly of saying that two casks 'lie at the threshold of zeus, full of lots, one of good, the other of evil lots[ ],' and that he to whom zeus gives a mixture of the two 'sometimes meets with evil fortune, at other times with good;' but that he to whom is given the cup of unmingled ill, 'him wild hunger drives o'er the beauteous earth.' * e* and again-- 'zeus, who is the dispenser of good and evil to us.' and if any one asserts that the violation of oaths and treaties, { } which was really the work of pandarus[ ], was brought about by athene and zeus, or that the strife and contention of the gods was instigated by themis and zeus[ ], he shall not have our approval; neither will we allow our young men to hear the words of aeschylus, that * a* 'god plants guilt among men when he desires utterly to destroy a house.' and if a poet writes of the sufferings of niobe--the subject of the tragedy in which these iambic verses occur--or of the house of pelops, or of the trojan war or on any similar theme, either we must not permit him to say that these are the works of god, or if they are of god, he must devise some explanation of them such as we are seeking; he must say that * b* god did what was just and right, and they were the better for being punished; but that those who are punished are miserable, and that god is the author of their misery--the poet is not to be permitted to say; though he may say that the wicked are miserable because they require to be punished, and are benefited by receiving punishment from god; but that god being good is the author of evil to any one is to be * c* strenuously denied, and not to be said or sung or heard in verse or prose by any one whether old or young in any well-ordered commonwealth. such a fiction is suicidal, ruinous, impious. [footnote : iliad, xxiv. .] [footnote : iliad, ii. .] [footnote : ib. xx.] i agree with you, he replied, and am ready to give my assent to the law. let this then be one of our rules and principles concerning the gods, to which our poets and reciters will be expected to conform,--that god is not the author of all things, but of good only. that will do, he said. * d* and what do you think of a second principle? shall i ask you whether god is a magician, and of a nature to appear insidiously now in one shape, and now in another--sometimes himself changing and passing into many forms, sometimes deceiving us with the semblance of such transformations; or is he one and the same immutably fixed in his own proper image? { } i cannot answer you, he said, without more thought. [sidenote: things must be changed either by another or by themselves.] well, i said; but if we suppose a change in anything, that * e* change must be effected either by the thing itself, or by some other thing? most certainly. and things which are at their best are also least liable to be altered or discomposed; for example, when healthiest and strongest, the human frame is least liable to be affected by meats and drinks, and the plant which is in the fullest vigour also suffers least from winds or the heat of the sun or any similar causes. of course. * a* and will not the bravest and wisest soul be least confused or deranged by any external influence? true. and the same principle, as i should suppose, applies to all composite things--furniture, houses, garments: when good and well made, they are least altered by time and circumstances. very true. * b* then everything which is good, whether made by art or nature, or both, is least liable to suffer change from without? true. but surely god and the things of god are in every way perfect? of course they are. [sidenote: but god cannot be changed by other; and will not be changed by himself.] then he can hardly be compelled by external influence to take many shapes? he cannot. but may he not change and transform himself? clearly, he said, that must be the case if he is changed at all. and will he then change himself for the better and fairer, or for the worse and more unsightly? * c* if he change at all he can only change for the worse, for we cannot suppose him to be deficient either in virtue or beauty. very true, adeimantus; but then, would any one, whether god or man, desire to make himself worse? impossible. then it is impossible that god should ever be willing to { } change; being, as is supposed, the fairest and best that is conceivable, every god remains absolutely and for ever in his own form. that necessarily follows, he said, in my judgment. * d* then, i said, my dear friend, let none of the poets tell us that 'the gods, taking the disguise of strangers from other lands, walk up and down cities in all sorts of forms[ ];' and let no one slander proteus and thetis, neither let any one, either in tragedy or in any other kind of poetry, introduce here disguised in the likeness of a priestess asking an alms 'for the life-giving daughters of inachus the river of argos;' * e* --let us have no more lies of that sort. neither must we have mothers under the influence of the poets scaring their children with a bad version of these myths--telling how certain gods, as they say, 'go about by night in the likeness of so many strangers and in divers forms;' but let them take heed lest they make cowards of their children, and at the same time speak blasphemy against the gods. [footnote : hom. od. xvii. .] heaven forbid, he said. but although the gods are themselves unchangeable, still by witchcraft and deception they may make us think that they appear in various forms? perhaps, he replied. [sidenote: nor will he make any false representation of himself.] well, but can you imagine that god will be willing to lie, whether in word or deed, or to put forth a phantom of himself? * a* i cannot say, he replied. do you not know, i said, that the true lie, if such an expression may be allowed, is hated of gods and men? what do you mean? he said. i mean that no one is willingly deceived in that which is the truest and highest part of himself, or about the truest and highest matters; there, above all, he is most afraid of a lie having possession of him. { } still, he said, i do not comprehend you. * b* the reason is, i replied, that you attribute some profound meaning to my words; but i am only saying that deception, or being deceived or uninformed about the highest realities in the highest part of themselves, which is the soul, and in that part of them to have and to hold the lie, is what mankind least like;--that, i say, is what they utterly detest. there is nothing more hateful to them. and, as i was just now remarking, this ignorance in the soul of him who is deceived may be called the true lie; for the lie in words is only a kind of imitation and shadowy image of a previous affection of the soul, not pure unadulterated * c* falsehood. am i not right? perfectly right. [sidenote: the true lie is equally hated both by gods and men; the remedial or preventive lie is comparatively innocent, but god can have no need of it.] the true lie is hated not only by the gods, but also by men? yes. whereas the lie in words is in certain cases useful and not hateful; in dealing with enemies--that would be an instance; or again, when those whom we call our friends in a fit of madness or illusion are going to do some harm, then it is useful and is a sort of medicine or preventive; also in the * d* tales of mythology, of which we were just now speaking--because we do not know the truth about ancient times, we make falsehood as much like truth as we can, and so turn it to account. very true, he said. but can any of these reasons apply to god? can we suppose that he is ignorant of antiquity, and therefore has recourse to invention? that would be ridiculous, he said. then the lying poet has no place in our idea of god? i should say not. or perhaps he may tell a lie because he is afraid of enemies? * e* that is inconceivable. but he may have friends who are senseless or mad? but no mad or senseless person can be a friend of god. then no motive can be imagined why god should lie? none whatever. { } then the superhuman and divine is absolutely incapable of falsehood? yes. then is god perfectly simple and true both in word and deed[ ]; he changes not; he deceives not, either by sign or word, by dream or waking vision. [footnote : omitting [greek: kata\ phantasi/as].] * a* your thoughts, he said, are the reflection of my own. you agree with me then, i said, that this is the second type or form in which we should write and speak about divine things. the gods are not magicians who transform themselves, neither do they deceive mankind in any way. i grant that. [sidenote: away then with the falsehoods of the poets!] then, although we are admirers of homer, we do not admire the lying dream which zeus sends to agamemnon; neither will we praise the verses of aeschylus in which thetis * b* says that apollo at her nuptials 'was celebrating in song her fair progeny whose days were to be long, and to know no sickness. and when he had spoken of my lot as in all things blessed of heaven he raised a note of triumph and cheered my soul. and i thought that the word of phoebus, being divine and full of prophecy, would not fail. and now he himself who uttered the strain, he who was present at the banquet, and who said this--he it is who has slain my son[ ].' [footnote : from a lost play.] * c* these are the kind of sentiments about the gods which will arouse our anger; and he who utters them shall be refused a chorus; neither shall we allow teachers to make use of them in the instruction of the young, meaning, as we do, that our guardians, as far as men can be, should be true worshippers of the gods and like them. i entirely agree, he said, in these principles, and promise to make them my laws. book iii. [sidenote: _republic iii._ socrates, adeimantus.] [sidenote: the discouraging lessons of mythology.] * a* such then, i said, are our principles of theology--some tales are to be told, and others are not to be told to our disciples from their youth upwards, if we mean them to honour the gods and their parents, and to value friendship with one another. yes; and i think that our principles are right, he said. but if they are to be courageous, must they not learn other lessons besides these, and lessons of such a kind as will take * b* away the fear of death? can any man be courageous who has the fear of death in him? certainly not, he said. and can he be fearless of death, or will he choose death in battle rather than defeat and slavery, who believes the world below to be real and terrible? impossible. [sidenote: the description of the world below in homer.] then we must assume a control over the narrators of this class of tales as well as over the others, and beg them not simply to revile but rather to commend the world below, * c* intimating to them that their descriptions are untrue, and will do harm to our future warriors. that will be our duty, he said. [sidenote: such tales to be rejected.] then, i said, we shall have to obliterate many obnoxious passages, beginning with the verses, 'i would rather be a serf on the land of a poor and portionless man than rule over all the dead who have come to nought[ ].' we must also expunge the verse, which tells us how pluto feared, * d* 'lest the mansions grim and squalid which the gods abhor should be seen both of mortals and immortals[ ].' { } and again:-- 'o heavens! verily in the house of hades there is soul and ghostly form but no mind at all[ ]!' again of tiresias:-- '[to him even after death did persephone grant mind,] that he alone should be wise; but the other souls are flitting shades[ ].' again:-- 'the soul flying from the limbs had gone to hades, lamenting her fate, leaving manhood and youth[ ].' again:-- * a* 'and the soul, with shrilling cry, passed like smoke beneath the earth[ ].' and,-- 'as bats in hollow of mystic cavern, whenever any of them has dropped out of the string and falls from the rock, fly shrilling and cling to one another, so did they with shrilling cry hold together as they moved[ ].' * b* and we must beg homer and the other poets not to be angry if we strike out these and similar passages, not because they are unpoetical, or unattractive to the popular ear, but because the greater the poetical charm of them, the less are they meet for the ears of boys and men who are meant to be free, and who should fear slavery more than death. [footnote : od. xi. .] [footnote : il. xx. .] [footnote : il. xxiii. .] [footnote : od. x. .] [footnote : il. xvi. .] [footnote : ib. xxiii. .] [footnote : od. xxiv. .] undoubtedly. also we shall have to reject all the terrible and appalling names which describe the world below--cocytus and styx, * c* ghosts under the earth, and sapless shades, and any similar words of which the very mention causes a shudder to pass through the inmost soul of him who hears them. i do not say that these horrible stories may not have a use of some kind; but there is a danger that the nerves of our guardians may be rendered too excitable and effeminate by them. there is a real danger, he said. then we must have no more of them. true. another and a nobler strain must be composed and sung by us. { } clearly. * d* and shall we proceed to get rid of the weepings and wailings of famous men? they will go with the rest. [sidenote: the effeminate and pitiful strains of famous men, and yet more of the gods, must also be banished.] but shall we be right in getting rid of them? reflect: our principle is that the good man will not consider death terrible to any other good man who is his comrade. yes; that is our principle. and therefore he will not sorrow for his departed friend as though he had suffered anything terrible? he will not. such an one, as we further maintain, is sufficient for himself * e* and his own happiness, and therefore is least in need of other men. true, he said. and for this reason the loss of a son or brother, or the deprivation of fortune, is to him of all men least terrible. assuredly. and therefore he will be least likely to lament, and will bear with the greatest equanimity any misfortune of this sort which may befall him. yes, he will feel such a misfortune far less than another. then we shall be right in getting rid of the lamentations of famous men, and making them over to women (and not * a* even to women who are good for anything), or to men of a baser sort, that those who are being educated by us to be the defenders of their country may scorn to do the like. that will be very right. [sidenote: such are the laments of achilles, and priam, and of zeus when he beholds the fate of hector or sarpedon.] then we will once more entreat homer and the other poets not to depict achilles[ ], who is the son of a goddess, first lying on his side, then on his back, and then on his face; then starting up and sailing in a frenzy along the shores of * b* the barren sea; now taking the sooty ashes in both his hands[ ] and pouring them over his head, or weeping and wailing in the various modes which homer has delineated. nor should he describe priam the kinsman of the gods as praying and beseeching, 'rolling in the dirt, calling each man loudly by his name[ ].' { } still more earnestly will we beg of him at all events not to introduce the gods lamenting and saying, * c* 'alas! my misery! alas! that i bore the bravest to my sorrow[ ].' but if he must introduce the gods, at any rate let him not dare so completely to misrepresent the greatest of the gods, as to make him say-- 'o heavens! with my eyes verily i behold a dear friend of mine chased round and round the city, and my heart is sorrowful[ ].' or again:-- 'woe is me that i am fated to have sarpedon, dearest of * d* men to me, subdued at the hands of patroclus the son of menoetius[ ].' for if, my sweet adeimantus, our youth seriously listen to such unworthy representations of the gods, instead of laughing at them as they ought, hardly will any of them deem that he himself, being but a man, can be dishonoured by similar actions; neither will he rebuke any inclination which may arise in his mind to say and do the like. and instead of having any shame or self-control, he will be always whining and lamenting on slight occasions. [footnote : il. xxiv. .] [footnote : ib. xviii. .] [footnote : ib. xxii. .] [footnote : il. xviii. .] [footnote : ib. xxii. .] [footnote : ib. xvi. .] * e* yes, he said, that is most true. yes, i replied; but that surely is what ought not to be, as the argument has just proved to us; and by that proof we must abide until it is disproved by a better. it ought not to be. [sidenote: neither are the guardians to be encouraged to laugh by the example of the gods.] neither ought our guardians to be given to laughter. for a fit of laughter which has been indulged to excess almost always produces a violent reaction. so i believe. then persons of worth, even if only mortal men, must not be represented as overcome by laughter, and still less must such a representation of the gods be allowed. * a* still less of the gods, as you say, he replied. then we shall not suffer such an expression to be used about the gods as that of homer when he describes how 'inextinguishable laughter arose among the blessed gods, when they saw hephaestus bustling about the mansion[ ].' on your views, we must not admit them. { } [footnote : ib. i. .] on my views, if you like to father them on me; that we * b* must not admit them is certain. [sidenote: our youth must be truthful,] again, truth should be highly valued; if, as we were saying, a lie is useless to the gods, and useful only as a medicine to men, then the use of such medicines should be restricted to physicians; private individuals have no business with them. clearly not, he said. then if any one at all is to have the privilege of lying, the rulers of the state should be the persons; and they, in their dealings either with enemies or with their own citizens, may be allowed to lie for the public good. but nobody else should * c* meddle with anything of the kind; and although the rulers have this privilege, for a private man to lie to them in return is to be deemed a more heinous fault than for the patient or the pupil of a gymnasium not to speak the truth about his own bodily illnesses to the physician or to the trainer, or for a sailor not to tell the captain what is happening about the ship and the rest of the crew, and how things are going with himself or his fellow sailors. most true, he said. * d* if, then, the ruler catches anybody beside himself lying in the state, 'any of the craftsmen, whether he be priest or physician or carpenter[ ],' he will punish him for introducing a practice which is equally subversive and destructive of ship or state. [footnote : od. xvii. sq.] most certainly, he said, if our idea of the state is ever carried out[ ]. [footnote : or, 'if his words are accompanied by actions.'] [sidenote: and also temperate.] in the next place our youth must be temperate? certainly. are not the chief elements of temperance, speaking * e* generally, obedience to commanders and self-control in sensual pleasures? true. then we shall approve such language as that of diomede in homer, 'friend, sit still and obey my word[ ],' { } and the verses which follow, 'the greeks marched breathing prowess[ ], .... in silent awe of their leaders[ ],' and other sentiments of the same kind. [footnote : il. iv. .] [footnote : od. iii. .] [footnote : ib. iv. .] we shall. what of this line, 'o heavy with wine, who hast the eyes of a dog and the heart of a stag[ ],' * a* and of the words which follow? would you say that these, or any similar impertinences which private individuals are supposed to address to their rulers, whether in verse or prose, are well or ill spoken? [footnote : ib. i. .] they are ill spoken. they may very possibly afford some amusement, but they do not conduce to temperance. and therefore they are likely to do harm to our young men--you would agree with me there? yes. [sidenote: the praises of eating and drinking, and the tale of the improper behaviour of zeus and here, are not to be repeated to the young.] [sidenote: the indecent tale of ares and aphrodite.] and then, again, to make the wisest of men say that nothing in his opinion is more glorious than * b* 'when the tables are full of bread and meat, and the cup-bearer carries round wine which he draws from the bowl and pours into the cups,[ ]' is it fit or conducive to temperance for a young man to hear such words? or the verse 'the saddest of fates is to die and meet destiny from hunger[ ]'? what would you say again to the tale of zeus, who, while other gods and men were asleep and he the only person * c* awake, lay devising plans, but forgot them all in a moment through his lust, and was so completely overcome at the sight of here that he would not even go into the hut, but wanted to lie with her on the ground, declaring that he had never been in such a state of rapture before, even when they first met one another 'without the knowledge of their parents[ ];' { } or that other tale of how hephaestus, because of similar goings on, cast a chain around ares and aphrodite[ ]? [footnote : ib. ix. .] [footnote : ib. xii. .] [footnote : il. xiv. .] [footnote : od. viii. .] indeed, he said, i am strongly of opinion that they ought not to hear that sort of thing. [sidenote: the opposite strain of endurance.] * d* but any deeds of endurance which are done or told by famous men, these they ought to see and hear; as, for example, what is said in the verses, 'he smote his breast, and thus reproached his heart, endure, my heart; far worse hast thou endured[ ]!' [footnote : ib. xx. .] certainly, he said. in the next place, we must not let them be receivers of gifts or lovers of money. * e* certainly not. [sidenote: condemnation of achilles and phoenix.] neither must we sing to them of 'gifts persuading gods, and persuading reverend kings[ ].' neither is phoenix, the tutor of achilles, to be approved or deemed to have given his pupil good counsel when he told him that he should take the gifts of the greeks and assist them[ ]; but that without a gift he should not lay aside his anger. neither will we believe or acknowledge achilles himself to have been such a lover of money that he took agamemnon's gifts, or that when he had received payment he restored the dead body of hector, but that without payment he was unwilling to do so[ ]. [footnote : quoted by suidas as attributed to hesiod.] [footnote : il. ix. .] [footnote : ib. xxiv. .] * a* undoubtedly, he said, these are not sentiments which can be approved. [sidenote: the impious behaviour of achilles to apollo and the river-gods; his cruelty.] loving homer as i do[ ], i hardly like to say that in attributing these feelings to achilles, or in believing that they are truly attributed to him, he is guilty of downright impiety. as little can i believe the narrative of his insolence to apollo, where he says, 'thou hast wronged me, o far-darter, most abominable of deities. verily i would be even with thee, if i had only the power[ ];' * b* or his insubordination to the river-god[ ], on whose divinity he is ready to lay hands; or his offering to the dead patroclus { } of his own hair[ ], which had been previously dedicated to the other river-god spercheius, and that he actually performed this vow; or that he dragged hector round the tomb of patroclus[ ], and slaughtered the captives at the pyre[ ]; of all this i cannot believe that he was guilty, any more than i can * c* allow our citizens to believe that he, the wise cheiron's pupil, the son of a goddess and of peleus who was the gentlest of men and third in descent from zeus, was so disordered in his wits as to be at one time the slave of two seemingly inconsistent passions, meanness, not untainted by avarice, combined with overweening contempt of gods and men. [footnote : cf. _infra_, x. .] [footnote : il. xxii. sq.] [footnote : ib. xxi. , sq.] [footnote : il. xxiii. .] [footnote : ib. xxii. .] [footnote : ib. xxiii. .] you are quite right, he replied. [sidenote: the tale of theseus and peirithous.] and let us equally refuse to believe, or allow to be repeated, the tale of theseus son of poseidon, or of peirithous * d* son of zeus, going forth as they did to perpetrate a horrid rape; or of any other hero or son of a god daring to do such impious and dreadful things as they falsely ascribe to them in our day: and let us further compel the poets to declare either that these acts were not done by them, or that they were not the sons of gods;--both in the same breath they shall not be permitted to affirm. we will not have them trying to persuade our youth that the gods are the authors of evil, and that heroes are no better than men--sentiments * e* which, as we were saying, are neither pious nor true, for we have already proved that evil cannot come from the gods. assuredly not. [sidenote: the bad effect of these mythological tales upon the young.] and further they are likely to have a bad effect on those who hear them; for everybody will begin to excuse his own vices when he is convinced that similar wickednesses are always being perpetrated by-- 'the kindred of the gods, the relatives of zeus, whose ancestral altar, the altar of zeus, is aloft in air on the peak of ida,' and who have 'the blood of deities yet flowing in their veins[ ].' and therefore let us put an end to such tales, lest they * a* engender laxity of morals among the young. { } [footnote : from the niobe of aeschylus.] by all means, he replied. but now that we are determining what classes of subjects are or are not to be spoken of, let us see whether any have been omitted by us. the manner in which gods and demigods and heroes and the world below should be treated has been already laid down. very true. [sidenote: misstatements of the poets about men.] and what shall we say about men? that is clearly the remaining portion of our subject. clearly so. but we are not in a condition to answer this question at present, my friend. why not? because, if i am not mistaken, we shall have to say that * b* about men poets and story-tellers are guilty of making the gravest misstatements when they tell us that wicked men are often happy, and the good miserable; and that injustice is profitable when undetected, but that justice is a man's own loss and another's gain--these things we shall forbid them to utter, and command them to sing and say the opposite. to be sure we shall, he replied. but if you admit that i am right in this, then i shall maintain that you have implied the principle for which we have been all along contending. i grant the truth of your inference. * c* that such things are or are not to be said about men is a question which we cannot determine until we have discovered what justice is, and how naturally advantageous to the possessor, whether he seem to be just or not. most true, he said. enough of the subjects of poetry: let us now speak of the style; and when this has been considered, both matter and manner will have been completely treated. i do not understand what you mean, said adeimantus. * d* then i must make you understand; and perhaps i may be more intelligible if i put the matter in this way. you are aware, i suppose, that all mythology and poetry is a narration of events, either past, present, or to come? certainly, he replied. { } and narration may be either simple narration, or imitation, or a union of the two? that again, he said, i do not quite understand. [sidenote: analysis of the dramatic element in epic poetry.] i fear that i must be a ridiculous teacher when i have so much difficulty in making myself apprehended. like a bad speaker, therefore, i will not take the whole of the subject, * e* but will break a piece off in illustration of my meaning. you know the first lines of the iliad, in which the poet says that * a* chryses prayed agamemnon to release his daughter, and that agamemnon flew into a passion with him; whereupon chryses, failing of his object, invoked the anger of the god against the achaeans. now as far as these lines, 'and he prayed all the greeks, but especially the two sons of atreus, the chiefs of the people,' the poet is speaking in his own person; he never leads us to suppose that he is any one else. but in what follows he takes the person of chryses, and then he does all that he can * b* to make us believe that the speaker is not homer, but the aged priest himself. and in this double form he has cast the entire narrative of the events which occurred at troy and in ithaca and throughout the odyssey. yes. and a narrative it remains both in the speeches which the poet recites from time to time and in the intermediate passages? quite true. [sidenote: epic poetry has an element of imitation in the speeches; the rest is simple narrative.] * c* but when the poet speaks in the person of another, may we not say that he assimilates his style to that of the person who, as he informs you, is going to speak? certainly. and this assimilation of himself to another, either by the use of voice or gesture, is the imitation of the person whose character he assumes? of course. then in this case the narrative of the poet may be said to proceed by way of imitation? very true. [sidenote: illustrations from the beginning of the iliad.] or, if the poet everywhere appears and never conceals * d* himself, then again the imitation is dropped, and his poetry becomes simple narration. however, in order that i may { } make my meaning quite clear, and that you may no more say, 'i don't understand,' i will show how the change might be effected. if homer had said, 'the priest came, having his daughter's ransom in his hands, supplicating the achaeans, and above all the kings;' and then if, instead of speaking in the person of chryses, he had continued in his own person, the words would have been, not imitation, but simple narration. the passage would have run as follows (i am no poet, * e* and therefore i drop the metre), 'the priest came and prayed the gods on behalf of the greeks that they might capture troy and return safely home, but begged that they would give him back his daughter, and take the ransom which he brought, and respect the god. thus he spoke, and the other greeks revered the priest and assented. but agamemnon was wroth, and bade him depart and not come again, lest the staff and chaplets of the god should be of no avail to him--the daughter of chryses should not be released, he said--she should grow old with him in argos. and then he told him to go away and not to provoke him, if he intended to get home unscathed. and the old man went away in fear and * a* silence, and, when he had left the camp, he called upon apollo by his many names, reminding him of everything which he had done pleasing to him, whether in building his temples, or in offering sacrifice, and praying that his good deeds might be returned to him, and that the achaeans might expiate his tears by the arrows of the god,'--and so on. * b* in this way the whole becomes simple narrative. i understand, he said. [sidenote: tragedy and comedy are wholly imitative; dithyrambic and some other kinds of poetry are devoid of imitation. epic poetry is a combination of the two.] or you may suppose the opposite case--that the intermediate passages are omitted, and the dialogue only left. that also, he said, i understand; you mean, for example, as in tragedy. you have conceived my meaning perfectly; and if i mistake not, what you failed to apprehend before is now made * c* clear to you, that poetry and mythology are, in some cases, wholly imitative--instances of this are supplied by tragedy and comedy; there is likewise the opposite style, in which the poet is the only speaker--of this the dithyramb affords the best example; and the combination of both is found in epic, and in several other styles of poetry. do i take you with me? { } yes, he said; i see now what you meant. i will ask you to remember also what i began by saying, that we had done with the subject and might proceed to the style. yes, i remember. * d* in saying this, i intended to imply that we must come to an understanding about the mimetic art,--whether the poets, in narrating their stories, are to be allowed by us to imitate, and if so, whether in whole or in part, and if the latter, in what parts; or should all imitation be prohibited? you mean, i suspect, to ask whether tragedy and comedy shall be admitted into our state? [sidenote: a hint about homer (cp. _infra_, bk. x.)] yes, i said; but there may be more than this in question: i really do not know as yet, but whither the argument may blow, thither we go. and go we will, he said. [sidenote: our guardians ought not to be imitators, for one man can only do one thing well;] * e* then, adeimantus, let me ask you whether our guardians ought to be imitators; or rather, has not this question been decided by the rule already laid down that one man can only do one thing well, and not many; and that if he attempt many, he will altogether fail of gaining much reputation in any? certainly. and this is equally true of imitation; no one man can imitate many things as well as he would imitate a single one? he cannot. * a* then the same person will hardly be able to play a serious part in life, and at the same time to be an imitator and imitate many other parts as well; for even when two species of imitation are nearly allied, the same persons cannot succeed in both, as, for example, the writers of tragedy and comedy--did you not just now call them imitations? yes, i did; and you are right in thinking that the same persons cannot succeed in both. any more than they can be rhapsodists and actors at once? true. * b* neither are comic and tragic actors the same; yet all these things are but imitations. they are so. [sidenote: he cannot even imitate many things.] and human nature, adeimantus, appears to have been { } coined into yet smaller pieces, and to be as incapable of imitating many things well, as of performing well the actions of which the imitations are copies. quite true, he replied. if then we adhere to our original notion and bear in mind that our guardians, setting aside every other business, are to * c* dedicate themselves wholly to the maintenance of freedom in the state, making this their craft, and engaging in no work which does not bear on this end, they ought not to practise or imitate anything else; if they imitate at all, they should imitate from youth upward only those characters which are suitable to their profession--the courageous, temperate, holy, free, and the like; but they should not depict or be skilful at imitating any kind of illiberality or baseness, lest from imitation they should come to be what they imitate. did * d* you never observe how imitations, beginning in early youth and continuing far into life, at length grow into habits and become a second nature, affecting body, voice, and mind? yes, certainly, he said. [sidenote: imitations which are of the degrading sort.] then, i said, we will not allow those for whom we profess a care and of whom we say that they ought to be good men, to imitate a woman, whether young or old, quarrelling with her husband, or striving and vaunting against the gods in * e* conceit of her happiness, or when she is in affliction, or sorrow, or weeping; and certainly not one who is in sickness, love, or labour. very right, he said. neither must they represent slaves, male or female, performing the offices of slaves? they must not. and surely not bad men, whether cowards or any others, who do the reverse of what we have just been prescribing, who scold or mock or revile one another in drink or out of drink, or who in any other manner sin against themselves and their neighbours in word or deed, as the manner of such is. * a* neither should they be trained to imitate the action or speech of men or women who are mad or bad; for madness, like vice, is to be known but not to be practised or imitated. very true, he replied. { } neither may they imitate smiths or other artificers, or * b* oarsmen, or boatswains, or the like? how can they, he said, when they are not allowed to apply their minds to the callings of any of these? nor may they imitate the neighing of horses, the bellowing of bulls, the murmur of rivers and roll of the ocean, thunder, and all that sort of thing? nay, he said, if madness be forbidden, neither may they copy the behaviour of madmen. you mean, i said, if i understand you aright, that there is one sort of narrative style which may be employed by a truly * c* good man when he has anything to say, and that another sort will be used by a man of an opposite character and education. and which are these two sorts? he asked. [sidenote: imitations which may be encouraged.] suppose, i answered, that a just and good man in the course of a narration comes on some saying or action of another good man,--i should imagine that he will like to personate him, and will not be ashamed of this sort of imitation: he will be most ready to play the part of the good * d* man when he is acting firmly and wisely; in a less degree when he is overtaken by illness or love or drink, or has met with any other disaster. but when he comes to a character which is unworthy of him, he will not make a study of that; he will disdain such a person, and will assume his likeness, if at all, for a moment only when he is performing some good action; at other times he will be ashamed to play a part which he has never practised, nor will he like to fashion and frame himself after the baser models; he feels the * e* employment of such an art, unless in jest, to be beneath him, and his mind revolts at it. so i should expect, he replied. then he will adopt a mode of narration such as we have illustrated out of homer, that is to say, his style will be both imitative and narrative; but there will be very little of the former, and a great deal of the latter. do you agree? certainly, he said; that is the model which such a speaker * a* must necessarily take. [sidenote: imitations which are to be prohibited.] but there is another sort of character who will narrate anything, and, the worse he is, the more unscrupulous he will be; nothing will be too bad for him: and he will be ready to { } imitate anything, not as a joke, but in right good earnest, and before a large company. as i was just now saying, he will attempt to represent the roll of thunder, the noise of wind and hail, or the creaking of wheels, and pulleys, and the various sounds of flutes, pipes, trumpets, and all sorts of instruments: he will bark like a dog, bleat like * b* a sheep, or crow like a cock; his entire art will consist in imitation of voice and gesture, and there will be very little narration. that, he said, will be his mode of speaking. these, then, are the two kinds of style? yes. [sidenote: two kinds of style--the one simple, the other multiplex. there is also a third which is a combination of the two.] and you would agree with me in saying that one of them is simple and has but slight changes; and if the harmony and rhythm are also chosen for their simplicity, the result is that the speaker, if he speaks correctly, is always pretty much the same in style, and he will keep within the limits of a single harmony (for the changes are not great), and in * c* like manner he will make use of nearly the same rhythm? that is quite true, he said. whereas the other requires all sorts of harmonies and all sorts of rhythms, if the music and the style are to correspond, because the style has all sorts of changes. that is also perfectly true, he replied. and do not the two styles, or the mixture of the two, comprehend all poetry, and every form of expression in words? no one can say anything except in one or other of them or in both together. they include all, he said. [sidenote: the simple style alone is to be admitted in the state; the attractions of the mixed style are acknowledged, but it appears to be excluded.] * d* and shall we receive into our state all the three styles, or one only of the two unmixed styles? or would you include the mixed? i should prefer only to admit the pure imitator of virtue. yes, i said, adeimantus, but the mixed style is also very charming: and indeed the pantomimic, which is the opposite of the one chosen by you, is the most popular style with children and their attendants, and with the world in general. i do not deny it. but i suppose you would argue that such a style is unsuitable * e* to our state, in which human nature is not twofold or manifold, for one man plays one part only? { } yes; quite unsuitable. and this is the reason why in our state, and in our state only, we shall find a shoemaker to be a shoemaker and not a pilot also, and a husbandman to be a husbandman and not a dicast also, and a soldier a soldier and not a trader also, and the same throughout? true, he said. [sidenote: the pantomimic artist is to receive great honours, but he is to be sent out of the country.] * a* and therefore when any one of these pantomimic gentlemen, who are so clever that they can imitate anything, comes to us, and makes a proposal to exhibit himself and his poetry, we will fall down and worship him as a sweet and holy and wonderful being; but we must also inform him that in our state such as he are not permitted to exist; the law will not allow them. and so when we have anointed him with myrrh, and set a garland of wool upon his head, we shall send him away to another city. for we mean to employ for * b* our souls' health the rougher and severer poet or story-teller, who will imitate the style of the virtuous only, and will follow those models which we prescribed at first when we began the education of our soldiers. we certainly will, he said, if we have the power. then now, my friend, i said, that part of music or literary education which relates to the story or myth may be considered to be finished; for the matter and manner have both been discussed. i think so too, he said. * c* next in order will follow melody and song. that is obvious. every one can see already what we ought to say about them, if we are to be consistent with ourselves. [sidenote: socrates, glaucon.] i fear, said glaucon, laughing, that the word 'every one' hardly includes me, for i cannot at the moment say what they should be; though i may guess. at any rate you can tell that a song or ode has three * d* parts--the words, the melody, and the rhythm; that degree of knowledge i may presuppose? yes, he said; so much as that you may. and as for the words, there will surely be no difference between words which are and which are not set to music; { } both will conform to the same laws, and these have been already determined by us? yes. [sidenote: melody and rhythm.] and the melody and rhythm will depend upon the words? certainly. we were saying, when we spoke of the subject-matter, that we had no need of lamentation and strains of sorrow? true. * e* and which are the harmonies expressive of sorrow? you are musical, and can tell me. the harmonies which you mean are the mixed or tenor lydian, and the full-toned or bass lydian, and such like. these then, i said, must be banished; even to women who have a character to maintain they are of no use, and much less to men. certainly. in the next place, drunkenness and softness and indolence are utterly unbecoming the character of our guardians. utterly unbecoming. [sidenote: the relaxed melodies or harmonies are the ionian and the lydian. these are to be banished.] and which are the soft or drinking harmonies? * a* the ionian, he replied, and the lydian; they are termed 'relaxed.' well, and are these of any military use? quite the reverse, he replied; and if so the dorian and the phrygian are the only ones which you have left. i answered: of the harmonies i know nothing, but i want to have one warlike, to sound the note or accent which a brave man utters in the hour of danger and stern resolve, or when his cause is failing, and he is going to wounds or * b* death or is overtaken by some other evil, and at every such crisis meets the blows of fortune with firm step and a determination to endure; and another to be used by him in times of peace and freedom of action, when there is no pressure of necessity, and he is seeking to persuade god by prayer, or man by instruction and admonition, or on the other hand, when he is expressing his willingness to yield to persuasion or entreaty or admonition, and which represents him when by prudent conduct he has attained his end, not carried away by his success, but acting moderately and wisely * c* under the circumstances, and acquiescing in the event. these { } two harmonies i ask you to leave; the strain of necessity and the strain of freedom, the strain of the unfortunate and the strain of the fortunate, the strain of courage, and the strain of temperance; these, i say, leave. and these, he replied, are the dorian and phrygian harmonies of which i was just now speaking. [sidenote: the dorian and phrygian are to be retained.] then, i said, if these and these only are to be used in our songs and melodies, we shall not want multiplicity of notes or a panharmonic scale? i suppose not. then we shall not maintain the artificers of lyres with three corners and complex scales, or the makers of any other * d* many-stringed curiously-harmonised instruments? certainly not. [sidenote: musical instruments--which are to be rejected and which allowed?] but what do you say to flute-makers and flute-players? would you admit them into our state when you reflect that in this composite use of harmony the flute is worse than all the stringed instruments put together; even the panharmonic music is only an imitation of the flute? clearly not. there remain then only the lyre and the harp for use in the city, and the shepherds may have a pipe in the country. that is surely the conclusion to be drawn from the argument. * e* the preferring of apollo and his instruments to marsyas and his instruments is not at all strange, i said. not at all, he replied. and so, by the dog of egypt, we have been unconsciously purging the state, which not long ago we termed luxurious. and we have done wisely, he replied. then let us now finish the purgation, i said. next in order to harmonies, rhythms will naturally follow, and they should be subject to the same rules, for we ought not to seek out complex systems of metre, or metres of every kind, but rather to discover what rhythms are the expressions of * a* a courageous and harmonious life; and when we have found them, we shall adapt the foot and the melody to words having a like spirit, not the words to the foot and melody. to say what these rhythms are will be your duty--you must teach me them, as you have already taught me the harmonies. { } [sidenote: three kinds of rhythm as there are four notes of the tetrachord.] but, indeed, he replied, i cannot tell you. i only know that there are some three principles of rhythm out of which metrical systems are framed, just as in sounds there are four notes[ ] out of which all the harmonies are composed; that is an observation which i have made. but of what sort of lives they are severally the imitations i am unable to say. [footnote : i.e. the four notes of the tetrachord.] * b* then, i said, we must take damon into our counsels; and he will tell us what rhythms are expressive of meanness, or insolence, or fury, or other unworthiness, and what are to be reserved for the expression of opposite feelings. and i think that i have an indistinct recollection of his mentioning a complex cretic rhythm; also a dactylic or heroic, and he arranged them in some manner which i do not quite understand, making the rhythms equal in the rise and fall of the foot, long and short alternating; and, unless i am mistaken, he spoke of an iambic as well as of a trochaic rhythm, * c* and assigned to them short and long quantities.[ ] also in some cases he appeared to praise or censure the movement of the foot quite as much as the rhythm; or perhaps a combination of the two; for i am not certain what he meant. these matters, however, as i was saying, had better be referred to damon himself, for the analysis of the subject would be difficult, you know? [footnote : socrates expresses himself carelessly in accordance with his assumed ignorance of the details of the subject. in the first part of the sentence he appears to be speaking of paeonic rhythms which are in the ratio of / ; in the second part, of dactylic and anapaestic rhythms, which are in the ratio of / ; in the last clause, of iambic and trochaic rhythms, which are in the ratio of / or / .] rather so, i should say. but there is no difficulty in seeing that grace or the absence of grace is an effect of good or bad rhythm. none at all. [sidenote: rhythm and harmony follow style, and style is the expression of the soul.] * d* and also that good and bad rhythm naturally assimilate to a good and bad style; and that harmony and discord in like manner follow style; for our principle is that rhythm and harmony are regulated by the words, and not the words by them. just so, he said, they should follow the words. and will not the words and the character of the style depend on the temper of the soul? { } yes. and everything else on the style? yes. [sidenote: simplicity the great first principle;] then beauty of style and harmony and grace and good * e* rhythm depend on simplicity,--i mean the true simplicity of a rightly and nobly ordered mind and character, not that other simplicity which is only an euphemism for folly? very true, he replied. and if our youth are to do their work in life, must they not make these graces and harmonies their perpetual aim? they must. [sidenote: and a principle which is widely spread in nature and art.] * a* and surely the art of the painter and every other creative and constructive art are full of them,--weaving, embroidery, architecture, and every kind of manufacture; also nature, animal and vegetable,--in all of them there is grace or the absence of grace. and ugliness and discord and inharmonious motion are nearly allied to ill words and ill nature, as grace and harmony are the twin sisters of goodness and virtue and bear their likeness. that is quite true, he said. [sidenote: our citizens must grow up to manhood amidst impressions of grace and beauty only; all ugliness and vice must be excluded.] * b* but shall our superintendence go no further, and are the poets only to be required by us to express the image of the good in their works, on pain, if they do anything else, of expulsion from our state? or is the same control to be extended to other artists, and are they also to be prohibited from exhibiting the opposite forms of vice and intemperance and meanness and indecency in sculpture and building and the other creative arts; and is he who cannot conform to this rule of ours to be prevented from practising his art in our state, lest the taste of our citizens be corrupted by him? we would not have our guardians grow up amid images of moral deformity, as in some noxious pasture, and there * c* browse and feed upon many a baneful herb and flower day by day, little by little, until they silently gather a festering mass of corruption in their own soul. let our artists rather be those who are gifted to discern the true nature of the beautiful and graceful; then will our youth dwell in a land of health, amid fair sights and sounds, and receive the good in everything; and beauty, the effluence of fair works, shall * d* flow into the eye and ear, like a health-giving breeze from a purer region, and { } insensibly draw the soul from earliest years into likeness and sympathy with the beauty of reason. there can be no nobler training than that, he replied. [sidenote: the power of imparting grace is possessed by harmony.] and therefore, i said, glaucon, musical training is a more potent instrument than any other, because rhythm and harmony find their way into the inward places of the soul, on which they mightily fasten, imparting grace, and making the soul of him who is rightly educated graceful, or of him who * e* is ill-educated ungraceful; and also because he who has received this true education of the inner being will most shrewdly perceive omissions or faults in art and nature, and * a* with a true taste, while he praises and rejoices over and receives into his soul the good, and becomes noble and good, he will justly blame and hate the bad, now in the days of his youth, even before he is able to know the reason why; and when reason comes he will recognise and salute the friend with whom his education has made him long familiar. yes, he said, i quite agree with you in thinking that our youth should be trained in music and on the grounds which you mention. just as in learning to read, i said, we were satisfied when we knew the letters of the alphabet, which are very few, in all their recurring sizes and combinations; not slighting them * b* as unimportant whether they occupy a space large or small, but everywhere eager to make them out; and not thinking ourselves perfect in the art of reading until we recognise them wherever they are found[ ]: [footnote : cp. _supra_, ii. d.] true-- or, as we recognise the reflection of letters in the water, or in a mirror, only when we know the letters themselves; the same art and study giving us the knowledge of both: exactly-- [sidenote: the true musician must know the essential forms of virtue and vice.] even so, as i maintain, neither we nor our guardians, whom * c* we have to educate, can ever become musical until we and they know the essential forms of temperance, courage, liberality, magnificence, and their kindred, as well as the contrary forms, in all their combinations, and can recognise them and their images wherever they are found, not slighting { } them either in small things or great, but believing them all to be within the sphere of one art and study. most assuredly. [sidenote: the harmony of soul and body the fairest of sights.] * d* and when a beautiful soul harmonizes with a beautiful form, and the two are cast in one mould, that will be the fairest of sights to him who has an eye to see it? the fairest indeed. and the fairest is also the loveliest? that may be assumed. and the man who has the spirit of harmony will be most in love with the loveliest; but he will not love him who is of an inharmonious soul? [sidenote: the true lover will not mind defects of the person.] that is true, he replied, if the deficiency be in his soul; but if there be any merely bodily defect in another he will * e* be patient of it, and will love all the same. i perceive, i said, that you have or have had experiences of this sort, and i agree. but let me ask you another question: has excess of pleasure any affinity to temperance? how can that be? he replied; pleasure deprives a man of the use of his faculties quite as much as pain. or any affinity to virtue in general? * a* none whatever. any affinity to wantonness and intemperance? yes, the greatest. and is there any greater or keener pleasure than that of sensual love? no, nor a madder. [sidenote: true love is temperate and harmonious.] whereas true love is a love of beauty and order--temperate and harmonious? quite true, he said. then no intemperance or madness should be allowed to approach true love? certainly not. [sidenote: true love is free from sensuality and coarseness.] * b* then mad or intemperate pleasure must never be allowed to come near the lover and his beloved; neither of them can have any part in it if their love is of the right sort? no, indeed, socrates, it must never come near them. then i suppose that in the city which we are founding you would make a law to the effect that a friend should use no other familiarity to his love than a father would use to his { } son, and then only for a noble purpose, and he must first have the other's consent; and this rule is to limit him in * c* all his intercourse, and he is never to be seen going further, or, if he exceeds, he is to be deemed guilty of coarseness and bad taste. i quite agree, he said. thus much of music, which makes a fair ending; for what should be the end of music if not the love of beauty? i agree, he said. [sidenote: gymnastic.] after music comes gymnastic, in which our youth are next to be trained. certainly. gymnastic as well as music should begin in early years; the training in it should be careful and should continue through life. * d* now my belief is,--and this is a matter upon which i should like to have your opinion in confirmation of my own, but my own belief is,--not that the good body by any bodily excellence improves the soul, but, on the contrary, that the good soul, by her own excellence, improves the body as far as this may be possible. what do you say? yes, i agree. [sidenote: the body to be entrusted to the mind.] then, to the mind when adequately trained, we shall be right in handing over the more particular care of the body; * e* and in order to avoid prolixity we will now only give the general outlines of the subject. very good. that they must abstain from intoxication has been already remarked by us; for of all persons a guardian should be the last to get drunk and not know where in the world he is. yes, he said; that a guardian should require another guardian to take care of him is ridiculous indeed. but next, what shall we say of their food; for the men are in training for the great contest of all--are they not? yes, he said. * a* and will the habit of body of our ordinary athletes be suited to them? why not? [sidenote: the usual training of athletes too gross and sleepy.] i am afraid, i said, that a habit of body such as they have is but a sleepy sort of thing, and rather perilous to health. do you not observe that these athletes sleep away their { } lives, and are liable to most dangerous illnesses if they depart, in ever so slight a degree, from their customary regimen? yes, i do. then, i said, a finer sort of training will be required for our warrior athletes, who are to be like wakeful dogs, and to see and hear with the utmost keenness; amid the many changes of water and also of food, of summer heat and winter * b* cold, which they will have to endure when on a campaign, they must not be liable to break down in health. that is my view. the really excellent gymnastic is twin sister of that simple music which we were just now describing. how so? [sidenote: military gymnastic.] why, i conceive that there is a gymnastic which, like our music, is simple and good; and especially the military gymnastic. what do you mean? my meaning may be learned from homer; he, you know, feeds his heroes at their feasts, when they are campaigning, on soldiers' fare; they have no fish, although they are on * c* the shores of the hellespont, and they are not allowed boiled meats but only roast, which is the food most convenient for soldiers, requiring only that they should light a fire, and not involving the trouble of carrying about pots and pans. true. and i can hardly be mistaken in saying that sweet sauces are nowhere mentioned in homer. in proscribing them, however, he is not singular; all professional athletes are well aware that a man who is to be in good condition should take nothing of the kind. yes, he said; and knowing this, they are quite right in not taking them. [sidenote: syracusan dinners and corinthian courtezans are prohibited.] * d* then you would not approve of syracusan dinners, and the refinements of sicilian cookery? i think not. nor, if a man is to be in condition, would you allow him to have a corinthian girl as his fair friend? certainly not. { } neither would you approve of the delicacies, as they are thought, of athenian confectionary? certainly not. [sidenote: the luxurious style of living may be justly compared to the panharmonic strain of music.] all such feeding and living may be rightly compared by us * e* to melody and song composed in the panharmonic style, and in all the rhythms. exactly. there complexity engendered licence, and here disease; whereas simplicity in music was the parent of temperance in the soul; and simplicity in gymnastic of health in the body. most true, he said. * a* but when intemperance and diseases multiply in a state, halls of justice and medicine are always being opened; and the arts of the doctor and the lawyer give themselves airs, finding how keen is the interest which not only the slaves but the freemen of a city take about them. of course. [sidenote: every man should be his own doctor and lawyer.] and yet what greater proof can there be of a bad and disgraceful state of education than this, that not only artisans and the meaner sort of people need the skill of first-rate physicians and judges, but also those who would profess to * b* have had a liberal education? is it not disgraceful, and a great sign of want of good-breeding, that a man should have to go abroad for his law and physic because he has none of his own at home, and must therefore surrender himself into the hands of other men whom he makes lords and judges over him? of all things, he said, the most disgraceful. [sidenote: bad as it is to go to law, it is still worse to be a lover of litigation.] would you say 'most,' i replied, when you consider that there is a further stage of the evil in which a man is not only a life-long litigant, passing all his days in the courts, either as plaintiff or defendant, but is actually led by his bad taste to pride himself on his litigiousness; he imagines that he is * c* a master in dishonesty; able to take every crooked turn, and wriggle into and out of every hole, bending like a withy and getting out of the way of justice: and all for what?--in order to gain small points not worth mentioning, he not knowing that so to order his life as to be able to do without a napping judge is a far higher and nobler sort of thing. is not that still more disgraceful? { } yes, he said, that is still more disgraceful. [sidenote: bad also to require the help of medicine.] well, i said, and to require the help of medicine, not when a wound has to be cured, or on occasion of an epidemic, but * d* just because, by indolence and a habit of life such as we have been describing, men fill themselves with waters and winds, as if their bodies were a marsh, compelling the ingenious sons of asclepius to find more names for diseases, such as flatulence and catarrh; is not this, too, a disgrace? yes, he said, they do certainly give very strange and newfangled names to diseases. [sidenote: in the time of asclepius and of homer the practice of medicine was very simple.] yes, i said, and i do not believe that there were any such * e* diseases in the days of asclepius; and this i infer from the circumstance that the hero eurypylus, after he has been wounded in homer, drinks a posset of pramnian wine well * a* besprinkled with barley-meal and grated cheese, which are certainly inflammatory, and yet the sons of asclepius who were at the trojan war do not blame the damsel who gives him the drink, or rebuke patroclus, who is treating his case. well, he said, that was surely an extraordinary drink to be given to a person in his condition. [sidenote: the nursing of disease began with herodicus.] not so extraordinary, i replied, if you bear in mind that in former days, as is commonly said, before the time of herodicus, the guild of asclepius did not practise our present system of medicine, which may be said to educate diseases. but herodicus, being a trainer, and himself of a sickly constitution, by a combination of training and doctoring found * b* out a way of torturing first and chiefly himself, and secondly the rest of the world. how was that? he said. by the invention of lingering death; for he had a mortal disease which he perpetually tended, and as recovery was out of the question, he passed his entire life as a valetudinarian; he could do nothing but attend upon himself, and he was in constant torment whenever he departed in anything from his usual regimen, and so dying hard, by the help of science he struggled on to old age. a rare reward of his skill! * c* yes, i said; a reward which a man might fairly expect who never understood that, if asclepius did not instruct his descendants in valetudinarian arts, the omission arose, not { } from ignorance or inexperience of such a branch of medicine, but because he knew that in all well-ordered states every individual has an occupation to which he must attend, and has therefore no leisure to spend in continually being ill. this we remark in the case of the artisan, but, ludicrously enough, do not apply the same rule to people of the richer sort. how do you mean? he said. [sidenote: the working-man has no time for tedious remedies.] * d* i mean this: when a carpenter is ill he asks the physician for a rough and ready cure; an emetic or a purge or a cautery or the knife, --these are his remedies. and if some one prescribes for him a course of dietetics, and tells him that he must swathe and swaddle his head, and all that sort of thing, he replies at once that he has no time to be ill, and that he sees no good in a life which is spent in nursing his disease to the neglect of his customary employment; and therefore * e* bidding good-bye to this sort of physician, he resumes his ordinary habits, and either gets well and lives and does his business, or, if his constitution fails, he dies and has no more trouble. yes, he said, and a man in his condition of life ought to use the art of medicine thus far only. * a* has he not, i said, an occupation; and what profit would there be in his life if he were deprived of his occupation? quite true, he said. but with the rich man this is otherwise; of him we do not say that he has any specially appointed work which he must perform, if he would live. he is generally supposed to have nothing to do. then you never heard of the saying of phocylides, that as soon as a man has a livelihood he should practise virtue? nay, he said, i think that he had better begin somewhat sooner. [sidenote: the slow cure equally an impediment to the mechanical arts, to the practice of virtue] let us not have a dispute with him about this, i said; but rather ask ourselves: is the practice of virtue obligatory on * b* the rich man, or can he live without it? and if obligatory on him, then let us raise a further question, whether this dieting of disorders, which is an impediment to the application of the mind in carpentering and the mechanical arts, does not equally stand in the way of the sentiment of phocylides? { } of that, he replied, there can be no doubt; such excessive care of the body, when carried beyond the rules of gymnastic, is most inimical to the practice of virtue. [sidenote: and to any kind of study or thought.] [ ]yes, indeed, i replied, and equally incompatible with the management of a house, an army, or an office of state; and, what is most important of all, irreconcileable with any kind * c* of study or thought or self-reflection--there is a constant suspicion that headache and giddiness are to be ascribed to philosophy, and hence all practising or making trial of virtue in the higher sense is absolutely stopped; for a man is always fancying that he is being made ill, and is in constant anxiety about the state of his body. [footnote : making the answer of socrates begin at [greek: kai\ ga\r pro\s k.t.l.]] yes, likely enough. [sidenote: asclepius would not cure diseased constitutions because they were of no use to the state.] and therefore our politic asclepius may be supposed to have exhibited the power of his art only to persons who, being generally of healthy constitution and habits of life, had * d* a definite ailment; such as these he cured by purges and operations, and bade them live as usual, herein consulting the interests of the state; but bodies which disease had penetrated through and through he would not have attempted to cure by gradual processes of evacuation and infusion: he did not want to lengthen out good-for-nothing lives, or to have weak fathers begetting weaker sons;--if a man was not able to live in the ordinary way he had no business to cure him; * e* for such a cure would have been of no use either to himself, or to the state. then, he said, you regard asclepius as a statesman. [sidenote: the case of menelaus, who was attended by the sons of asclepius.] clearly; and his character is further illustrated by his sons. * a* note that they were heroes in the days of old and practised the medicines of which i am speaking at the siege of troy: you will remember how, when pandarus wounded menelaus, they 'sucked the blood out of the wound, and sprinkled soothing remedies[ ],' but they never prescribed what the patient was afterwards to eat or drink in the case of menelaus, any more than in the case of eurypylus; the remedies, as they conceived, were enough to heal any man who before he was wounded was { } * b* healthy and regular in his habits; and even though he did happen to drink a posset of pramnian wine, he might get well all the same. but they would have nothing to do with unhealthy and intemperate subjects, whose lives were of no use either to themselves or others; the art of medicine was not designed for their good, and though they were as rich as midas, the sons of asclepius would have declined to attend them. [footnote : iliad iv. .] they were very acute persons, those sons of asclepius. [sidenote: the offence of asclepius.] naturally so, i replied. nevertheless, the tragedians and pindar disobeying our behests, although they acknowledge that asclepius was the son of apollo, say also that he was bribed into healing a rich man who was at the point of * c* death, and for this reason he was struck by lightning. but we, in accordance with the principle already affirmed by us, will not believe them when they tell us both;--if he was the son of a god, we maintain that he was not avaricious; or, if he was avaricious, he was not the son of a god. all that, socrates, is excellent; but i should like to put a question to you: ought there not to be good physicians in a state, and are not the best those who have treated the * d* greatest number of constitutions good and bad? and are not the best judges in like manner those who are acquainted with all sorts of moral natures? yes, i said, i too would have good judges and good physicians. but do you know whom i think good? will you tell me? i will, if i can. let me however note that in the same question you join two things which are not the same. how so? he asked. [sidenote: the physician should have experience of illness in his own person;] why, i said, you join physicians and judges. now the most skilful physicians are those who, from their youth upwards, have combined with the knowledge of their art * e* the greatest experience of disease; they had better not be robust in health, and should have had all manner of diseases in their own persons. for the body, as i conceive, is not the instrument with which they cure the body; in that case we could not allow them ever to be or to have been sickly; but they cure the body with the mind, and the mind which has become and is sick can cure nothing. { } that is very true, he said. [sidenote: on the other hand, the judge should not learn to know evil by the practice of it, but by long observation of evil in others.] * a* but with the judge it is otherwise; since he governs mind by mind; he ought not therefore to have been trained among vicious minds, and to have associated with them from youth upwards, and to have gone through the whole calendar of crime, only in order that he may quickly infer the crimes of others as he might their bodily diseases from his own self-consciousness; the honourable mind which is to form a healthy judgment should have had no experience or contamination of evil habits when young. and this is the reason why in youth good men often appear to be simple, and are * b* easily practised upon by the dishonest, because they have no examples of what evil is in their own souls. yes, he said, they are far too apt to be deceived. therefore, i said, the judge should not be young; he should have learned to know evil, not from his own soul, but from late and long observation of the nature of evil in others: * c* knowledge should be his guide, not personal experience. yes, he said, that is the ideal of a judge. [sidenote: such a knowledge of human nature far better and truer than that of the adept in crime.] yes, i replied, and he will be a good man (which is my answer to your question); for he is good who has a good soul. but the cunning and suspicious nature of which we spoke,--he who has committed many crimes, and fancies himself to be a master in wickedness, when he is amongst his fellows, is wonderful in the precautions which he takes, because he judges of them by himself: but when he gets into the company of men of virtue, who have the experience of age, he appears to be a fool again, owing to his unseasonable suspicions; * d* he cannot recognise an honest man, because he has no pattern of honesty in himself; at the same time, as the bad are more numerous than the good, and he meets with them oftener, he thinks himself, and is by others thought to be, rather wise than foolish. most true, he said. then the good and wise judge whom we are seeking is not this man, but the other; for vice cannot know virtue too, but a virtuous nature, educated by time, will acquire a knowledge * e* both of virtue and vice: the virtuous, and not the vicious, man has wisdom--in my opinion. and in mine also. { } this is the sort of medicine, and this is the sort of law, which you will sanction in your state. they will minister to * a* better natures, giving health both of soul and of body; but those who are diseased in their bodies they will leave to die, and the corrupt and incurable souls they will put an end to themselves. that is clearly the best thing both for the patients and for the state. and thus our youth, having been educated only in that simple music which, as we said, inspires temperance, will be reluctant to go to law. clearly. * b* and the musician, who, keeping to the same track, is content to practise the simple gymnastic, will have nothing to do with medicine unless in some extreme case. that i quite believe. the very exercises and tolls which he undergoes are intended to stimulate the spirited element of his nature, and not to increase his strength; he will not, like common athletes, use exercise and regimen to develope his muscles. very right, he said. [sidenote: music and gymnastic are equally designed for the improvement of the mind.] * c* neither are the two arts of music and gymnastic really designed, as is often supposed, the one for the training of the soul, the other for the training of the body. what then is the real object of them? i believe, i said, that the teachers of both have in view chiefly the improvement of the soul. how can that be? he asked. did you never observe, i said, the effect on the mind itself of exclusive devotion to gymnastic, or the opposite effect of an exclusive devotion to music? in what way shown? he said. [sidenote: the mere athlete must be softened, and the philosophic nature prevented from becoming too soft] * d* the one producing a temper of hardness and ferocity, the other of softness and effeminacy, i replied. yes, he said, i am quite aware that the mere athlete becomes too much of a savage, and that the mere musician is melted and softened beyond what is good for him. yet surely, i said, this ferocity only comes from spirit, which, if rightly educated, would give courage, but, if too much intensified, is liable to become hard and brutal. { } that i quite think. * e* on the other hand the philosopher will have the quality of gentleness. and this also, when too much indulged, will turn to softness, but, if educated rightly, will be gentle and moderate. true. and in our opinion the guardians ought to have both these qualities? assuredly. and both should be in harmony? beyond question. * a* and the harmonious soul is both temperate and courageous? yes. and the inharmonious is cowardly and boorish? very true. [sidenote: music, if carried too far, renders the weaker nature effeminate, the stronger irritable.] and, when a man allows music to play upon him and to pour into his soul through the funnel of his ears those sweet and soft and melancholy airs of which we were just now speaking, and his whole life is passed in warbling and the delights of song; in the first stage of the process the passion or spirit which is in him is tempered like iron, and made * b* useful, instead of brittle and useless. but, if he carries on the softening and soothing process, in the next stage he begins to melt and waste, until he has wasted away his spirit and cut out the sinews of his soul; and he becomes a feeble warrior. very true. if the element of spirit is naturally weak in him the change is speedily accomplished, but if he have a good deal, then the power of music weakening the spirit renders him excitable;--on the least provocation he flames up at once, and is * c* speedily extinguished; instead of having spirit he grows irritable and passionate and is quite impracticable. exactly. [sidenote: and in like manner the well-fed athlete, if he have no education,] and so in gymnastics, if a man takes violent exercise and is a great feeder, and the reverse of a great student of music and philosophy, at first the high condition of his body fills him with pride and spirit, and he becomes twice the man that he was. { } certainly. [sidenote: degenerates into a wild beast.] and what happens? if he do nothing else, and holds no * d* converse with the muses, does not even that intelligence which there may be in him, having no taste of any sort of learning or enquiry or thought or culture, grow feeble and dull and blind, his mind never waking up or receiving nourishment, and his senses not being purged of their mists? true, he said. and he ends by becoming a hater of philosophy, uncivilized, never using the weapon of persuasion,--he is like a wild * e* beast, all violence and fierceness, and knows no other way of dealing; and he lives in all ignorance and evil conditions, and has no sense of propriety and grace. that is quite true, he said. and as there are two principles of human nature, one the spirited and the other the philosophical, some god, as i should say, has given mankind two arts answering to them (and only indirectly to the soul and body), in order that these * a* two principles (like the strings of an instrument) may be relaxed or drawn tighter until they are duly harmonized. that appears to be the intention. [sidenote: music to be mingled with gymnastic, and both attempered to the individual soul.] and he who mingles music with gymnastic in the fairest proportions, and best attempers them to the soul, may be rightly called the true musician and harmonist in a far higher sense than the tuner of the strings. you are quite right, socrates. and such a presiding genius will be always required in our state if the government is to last. * b* yes, he will be absolutely necessary. [sidenote: enough of principles of education: who are to be our rulers?] such, then, are our principles of nurture and education: where would be the use of going into further details about the dances of our citizens, or about their hunting and coursing, their gymnastic and equestrian contests? for these all follow the general principle, and having found that, we shall have no difficulty in discovering them. i dare say that there will be no difficulty. very good, i said; then what is the next question? must we not ask who are to be rulers and who subjects? * c* certainly. [sidenote: the elder must rule and the younger serve.] there can be no doubt that the elder must rule the younger. { } clearly. and that the best of these must rule. that is also clear. now, are not the best husbandmen those who are most devoted to husbandry? yes. and as we are to have the best of guardians for our city, must they not be those who have most the character of guardians? yes. and to this end they ought to be wise and efficient, and to have a special care of the state? * d* true. [sidenote: those are to be appointed rulers who have been tested in all the stages of their life;] and a man will be most likely to care about that which he loves? to be sure. and he will be most likely to love that which he regards as having the same interests with himself, and that of which the good or evil fortune is supposed by him at any time most to affect his own? very true, he replied. then there must be a selection. let us note among the guardians those who in their whole life show the greatest * e* eagerness to do what is for the good of their country, and the greatest repugnance to do what is against her interests. those are the right men. and they will have to be watched at every age, in order that we may see whether they preserve their resolution, and never, under the influence either of force or enchantment, forget or cast off their sense of duty to the state. how cast off? he said. i will explain to you, i replied. a resolution may go out of a man's mind either with his will or against his will; with * a* his will when he gets rid of a falsehood and learns better, against his will whenever he is deprived of a truth. i understand, he said, the willing loss of a resolution; the meaning of the unwilling i have yet to learn. why, i said, do you not see that men are unwillingly deprived of good, and willingly of evil? is not to have lost the truth an evil, and to possess the truth a good? and you { } would agree that to conceive things as they are is to possess the truth? yes, he replied; i agree with you in thinking that mankind are deprived of truth against their will. * b* and is not this involuntary deprivation caused either by theft, or force, or enchantment? still, he replied, i do not understand you. [sidenote: and who are unchanged by the influence either of pleasure, or of fear,] i fear that i must have been talking darkly, like the tragedians. i only mean that some men are changed by persuasion and that others forget; argument steals away the hearts of one class, and time of the other; and this i call theft. now you understand me? yes. those again who are forced, are those whom the violence of some pain or grief compels to change their opinion. i understand, he said, and you are quite right. [sidenote: or of enchantments.] * c* and you would also acknowledge that the enchanted are those who change their minds either under the softer influence of pleasure, or the sterner influence of fear? yes, he said; everything that deceives may be said to enchant. therefore, as i was just now saying, we must enquire who are the best guardians of their own conviction that what they think the interest of the state is to be the rule of their lives. we must watch them from their youth upwards, and make them perform actions in which they are most likely to forget or to be deceived, and he who remembers and is not deceived * d* is to be selected, and he who fails in the trial is to be rejected. that will be the way? yes. and there should also be toils and pains and conflicts prescribed for them, in which they will be made to give further proof of the same qualities. very right, he replied. [sidenote: if they stand the test they are to be honoured in life and after death.] and then, i said, we must try them with enchantments--that is the third sort of test--and see what will be their behaviour: like those who take colts amid noise and tumult to see if they are of a timid nature, so must we take our youth amid terrors of some kind, and again pass them into pleasures, * e* and prove them more thoroughly than gold is { } proved in the furnace, that we may discover whether they are armed against all enchantments, and of a noble bearing always, good guardians of themselves and of the music which they have learned, and retaining under all circumstances a rhythmical and harmonious nature, such as will be most serviceable to the individual and to the state. and he who at every age, as boy and youth and in mature life, has come out of the trial victorious and pure, shall be appointed * a* a ruler and guardian of the state; he shall be honoured in life and death, and shall receive sepulture and other memorials of honour, the greatest that we have to give. but him who fails, we must reject. i am inclined to think that this is the sort of way in which our rulers and guardians should be chosen and appointed. i speak generally, and not with any pretension to exactness. and, speaking generally, i agree with you, he said. [sidenote: the title of guardians to be reserved for the elders, the young men to be called auxiliaries.] * b* and perhaps the word 'guardian' in the fullest sense ought to be applied to this higher class only who preserve us against foreign enemies and maintain peace among our citizens at home, that the one may not have the will, or the others the power, to harm us. the young men whom we before called guardians may be more properly designated auxiliaries and supporters of the principles of the rulers. i agree with you, he said. how then may we devise one of those needful falsehoods of which we lately spoke--just one royal lie which may * c* deceive the rulers, if that be possible, and at any rate the rest of the city? what sort of lie? he said. [sidenote: the phoenician tale.] nothing new, i replied; only an old phoenician[ ] tale of what has often occurred before now in other places, (as the poets say, and have made the world believe) though not in our time, and i do not know whether such an event could ever happen again, or could now even be made probable, if it did. [footnote : cp. laws, e.] how your words seem to hesitate on your lips! you will not wonder, i replied, at my hesitation when you have heard. speak, he said, and fear not. { } [sidenote: the citizens to be told that they are really autochthonous, sent up out of the earth,] * d* well then, i will speak, although i really know not how to look you in the face, or in what words to utter the audacious fiction, which i propose to communicate gradually, first to the rulers, then to the soldiers, and lastly to the people. they are to be told that their youth was a dream, and the education and training which they received from us, an appearance only; in reality during all that time they were being formed and fed in the womb of the earth, where they * e* themselves and their arms and appurtenances were manufactured; when they were completed, the earth, their mother, sent them up; and so, their country being their mother and also their nurse, they are bound to advise for her good, and to defend her against attacks, and her citizens they are to regard as children of the earth and their own brothers. you had good reason, he said, to be ashamed of the lie which you were going to tell. [sidenote: and composed of metals of various quality.] [sidenote: the noble quality to rise in the state, the ignoble to descend.] * a* true, i replied, but there is more coming; i have only told you half. citizens, we shall say to them in our tale, you are brothers, yet god has framed you differently. some of you have the power of command, and in the composition of these he has mingled gold, wherefore also they have the greatest honour; others he has made of silver, to be auxiliaries; others again who are to be husbandmen and craftsmen he has composed of brass and iron; and the species will generally be preserved in the children. but as all are of the same original stock, a golden parent will sometimes have a * b* silver son, or a silver parent a golden son. and god proclaims as a first principle to the rulers, and above all else, that there is nothing which they should so anxiously guard, or of which they are to be such good guardians, as of the purity of the race. they should observe what elements mingle in their offspring; for if the son of a golden or silver parent has an admixture of brass and iron, then nature orders * c* a transposition of ranks, and the eye of the ruler must not be pitiful towards the child because he has to descend in the scale and become a husbandman or artisan, just as there may be sons of artisans who having an admixture of gold or silver in them are raised to honour, and become guardians or auxiliaries. for an oracle says that when a man of brass or iron guards the state, it will be destroyed. such is the { } tale; is there any possibility of making our citizens believe in it? [sidenote: is such a fiction credible?--yes, in a future generation; not in the present.] * d* not in the present generation, he replied; there is no way of accomplishing this; but their sons may be made to believe in the tale, and their sons' sons, and posterity after them. [sidenote: the selection of a site for the warriors' camp.] i see the difficulty, i replied; yet the fostering of such a belief will make them care more for the city and for one another. enough, however, of the fiction, which may now fly abroad upon the wings of rumour, while we arm our earth-born heroes, and lead them forth under the command of their rulers. let them look round and select a spot whence they can best suppress insurrection, if any prove refractory * e* within, and also defend themselves against enemies, who like wolves may come down on the fold from without; there let them encamp, and when they have encamped, let them sacrifice to the proper gods and prepare their dwellings. just so, he said. and their dwellings must be such as will shield them against the cold of winter and the heat of summer. i suppose that you mean houses, he replied. yes, i said; but they must be the houses of soldiers, and not of shop-keepers. what is the difference? he said. [sidenote: the warriors must be humanized by education.] * a* that i will endeavour to explain, i replied. to keep watch-dogs, who, from want of discipline or hunger, or some evil habit or other, would turn upon the sheep and worry them, and behave not like dogs but wolves, would be a foul and monstrous thing in a shepherd? truly monstrous, he said. * b* and therefore every care must be taken that our auxiliaries, being stronger than our citizens, may not grow to be too much for them and become savage tyrants instead of friends and allies? yes, great care should be taken. and would not a really good education furnish the best safeguard? but they are well-educated already, he replied. i cannot be so confident, my dear glaucon, i said; i am much more certain that they ought to be, and that true * c* education, whatever that may be, will have the greatest { } tendency to civilize and humanize them in their relations to one another, and to those who are under their protection. very true, he replied. and not only their education, but their habitations, and all that belongs to them, should be such as will neither impair their virtue as guardians, nor tempt them to prey upon the other citizens. * d* any man of sense must acknowledge that. he must. [sidenote: their way of life will be that of a camp] [sidenote: they must have no homes or property of their own.] then now let us consider what will be their way of life, if they are to realize our idea of them. in the first place, none of them should have any property of his own beyond what is absolutely necessary; neither should they have a private house or store closed against any one who has a mind to enter; their provisions should be only such as are required by trained warriors, who are men of temperance and courage; * e* they should agree to receive from the citizens a fixed rate of pay, enough to meet the expenses of the year and no more; and they will go to mess and live together like soldiers in a camp. gold and silver we will tell them that they have from god; the diviner metal is within them, and they have therefore no need of the dross which is current among men, and ought not to pollute the divine by any * a* such earthly admixture; for that commoner metal has been the source of many unholy deeds, but their own is undefiled. and they alone of all the citizens may not touch or handle silver or gold, or be under the same roof with them, or wear them, or drink from them. and this will be their salvation, and they will be the saviours of the state. but should they ever acquire homes or lands or moneys of their own, they will become housekeepers and husbandmen instead of guardians, * b* enemies and tyrants instead of allies of the other citizens; hating and being hated, plotting and being plotted against, they will pass their whole life in much greater terror of internal than of external enemies, and the hour of ruin, both to themselves and to the rest of the state, will be at hand. for all which reasons may we not say that thus shall our state be ordered, and that these shall be the regulations appointed by us for guardians concerning their houses and all other matters? yes, said glaucon. book iv. [sidenote: _republic iv._ adeimantus, socrates.] [sidenote: an objection that socrates has made his citizens poor and miserable:] * a* here adeimantus interposed a question: how would you answer, socrates, said he, if a person were to say that you are making[ ] these people miserable, and that they are the cause of their own unhappiness; the city in fact belongs to them, but they are none the better for it; whereas other men acquire lands, and build large and handsome houses, and have everything handsome about them, offering sacrifices to the gods on their own account, and practising hospitality; moreover, as you were saying just now, they have gold and silver, and all that is usual among the favourites of fortune; but our poor citizens are no better than mercenaries who are quartered in the city and are always mounting guard? [footnote : or, 'that for their own good you are making these people miserable.'] [sidenote: and worst of all, adds socrates, they have no money.] * a* yes, i said; and you may add that they are only fed, and not paid in addition to their food, like other men; and therefore they cannot, if they would, take a journey of pleasure; they have no money to spend on a mistress or any other luxurious fancy, which, as the world goes, is thought to be happiness; and many other accusations of the same nature might be added. but, said he, let us suppose all this to be included in the charge. * b* you mean to ask, i said, what will be our answer? yes. [sidenote: yet very likely they may be the happiest of mankind.] [sidenote: the state, like a statue, must be judged of as a whole.] [sidenote: the guardians must be guardians, not boon companions.] if we proceed along the old path, my belief, i said, is that we shall find the answer. and our answer will be that, even as they are, our guardians may very likely be the happiest of men; but that our aim in founding the state was not the disproportionate happiness of any one class, but the greatest happiness of the whole; we thought that in a state { } which is ordered with a view to the good of the whole we should be most likely to find justice, and in the ill-ordered * c* state injustice: and, having found them, we might then decide which of the two is the happier. at present, i take it, we are fashioning the happy state, not piecemeal, or with a view of making a few happy citizens, but as a whole; and by-and-by we will proceed to view the opposite kind of state. suppose that we were painting a statue, and some one came up to us and said, why do you not put the most beautiful colours on the most beautiful parts of the body--the eyes ought to be purple, but you have made them black--to him * d* we might fairly answer, sir, you would not surely have us beautify the eyes to such a degree that they are no longer eyes; consider rather whether, by giving this and the other features their due proportion, we make the whole beautiful. and so i say to you, do not compel us to assign to the guardians a sort of happiness which will make them anything but guardians; * e* for we too can clothe our husbandmen in royal apparel, and set crowns of gold on their heads, and bid them till the ground as much as they like, and no more. our potters also might be allowed to repose on couches, and feast by the fireside, passing round the winecup, while their wheel is conveniently at hand, and working at pottery only as much as they like; in this way we might make every class happy--and then, as you imagine, the whole state would be happy. but do not put this idea into our heads; for, * a* if we listen to you, the husbandman will be no longer a husbandman, the potter will cease to be a potter, and no one will have the character of any distinct class in the state. now this is not of much consequence where the corruption of society, and pretension to be what you are not, is confined to cobblers; but when the guardians of the laws and of the government are only seeming and not real guardians, then see how they turn the state upside down; and on the other hand they alone have the power of giving order and happiness to the state. we mean our guardians to be true * b* saviours and not the destroyers of the state, whereas our opponent is thinking of peasants at a festival, who are enjoying a life of revelry, not of citizens who are doing their duty to the state. but, if so, we mean different things, and he is { } speaking of something which is not a state. and therefore we must consider whether in appointing our guardians we would look to their greatest happiness individually, or whether this principle of happiness does not rather reside in the state as a whole. but if the latter be the truth, then the guardians * c* and auxiliaries, and all others equally with them, must be compelled or induced to do their own work in the best way. and thus the whole state will grow up in a noble order, and the several classes will receive the proportion of happiness which nature assigns to them. i think that you are quite right. i wonder whether you will agree with another remark which occurs to me. what may that be? * d* there seem to be two causes of the deterioration of the arts. what are they? wealth, i said, and poverty. how do they act? [sidenote: when an artisan grows rich, he becomes careless: if he is very poor, he has no money to buy tools with. the city should be neither poor nor rich.] the process is as follows: when a potter becomes rich, will he, think you, any longer take the same pains with his art? certainly not. he will grow more and more indolent and careless? very true. and the result will be that he becomes a worse potter? yes; he greatly deteriorates. but, on the other hand, if he has no money, and cannot provide himself with tools or instruments, he will not work * e* equally well himself, nor will he teach his sons or apprentices to work equally well. certainly not. then, under the influence either of poverty or of wealth, workmen and their work are equally liable to degenerate? that is evident. here, then, is a discovery of new evils, i said, against which the guardians will have to watch, or they will creep into the city unobserved. what evils? * a* wealth, i said, and poverty; the one is the parent of { } luxury and indolence, and the other of meanness and viciousness, and both of discontent. [sidenote: but how, being poor, can she contend against a wealthy enemy?] that is very true, he replied; but still i should like to know, socrates, how our city will be able to go to war, especially against an enemy who is rich and powerful, if deprived of the sinews of war. there would certainly be a difficulty, i replied, in going * b* to war with one such enemy; but there is no difficulty where there are two of them. how so? he asked. [sidenote: our wiry soldiers will be more than a match for their fat neighbours.] in the first place, i said, if we have to fight, our side will be trained warriors fighting against an army of rich men. that is true, he said. and do you not suppose, adeimantus, that a single boxer who was perfect in his art would easily be a match for two stout and well-to-do gentlemen who were not boxers? hardly, if they came upon him at once. what, now, i said, if he were able to run away and then * c* turn and strike at the one who first came up? and supposing he were to do this several times under the heat of a scorching sun, might he not, being an expert, overturn more than one stout personage? certainly, he said, there would be nothing wonderful in that. and yet rich men probably have a greater superiority in the science and practise of boxing than they have in military qualities. likely enough. then we may assume that our athletes will be able to fight with two or three times their own number? i agree with you, for i think you right. [sidenote: and they will have allies who will readily join on condition of receiving the spoil.] * d* and suppose that, before engaging, our citizens send an embassy to one of the two cities, telling them what is the truth: silver and gold we neither have nor are permitted to have, but you may; do you therefore come and help us in war, and take the spoils of the other city: who, on hearing these words, would choose to fight against lean wiry dogs, rather than, with the dogs on their side, against fat and tender sheep? that is not likely; and yet there might be a danger to the { } * e* poor state if the wealth of many states were to be gathered into one. but how simple of you to use the term state at all of any but our own! why so? [sidenote: but many cities will conspire? no: they are divided in themselves.] [sidenote: many states are contained in one] you ought to speak of other states in the plural number; not one of them is a city, but many cities, as they say in the game. for indeed any city, however small, is in fact divided into two, one the city of the poor, the other of the rich; * a* these are at war with one another; and in either there are many smaller divisions, and you would be altogether beside the mark if you treated them all as a single state. but if you deal with them as many, and give the wealth or power or persons of the one to the others, you will always have a great many friends and not many enemies. and your state, while the wise order which has now been prescribed continues to prevail in her, will be the greatest of states, i do not mean to say in reputation or appearance, but in deed and truth, though she number not more than a thousand defenders. a single state which is her equal you will hardly find, either * b* among hellenes or barbarians, though many that appear to be as great and many times greater. that is most true, he said. [sidenote: the limit to the size of the state the possibility of unity.] and what, i said, will be the best limit for our rulers to fix when they are considering the size of the state and the amount of territory which they are to include, and beyond which they will not go? what limit would you propose? i would allow the state to increase so far as is consistent with unity; that, i think, is the proper limit. * c* very good, he said. here then, i said, is another order which will have to be conveyed to our guardians: let our city be accounted neither large nor small, but one and self-sufficing. and surely, said he, this is not a very severe order which we impose upon them. [sidenote: the duty of adjusting the citizens to the rank for which nature intended them.] and the other, said i, of which we were speaking before is lighter still,--i mean the duty of degrading the offspring of the guardians when inferior, and of elevating into the rank * d* of guardians the offspring of the lower classes, when naturally { } superior. the intention was, that, in the case of the citizens generally, each individual should be put to the use for which nature intended him, one to one work, and then every man would do his own business, and be one and not many; and so the whole city would be one and not many. yes, he said; that is not so difficult. the regulations which we are prescribing, my good adeimantus, are not, as might be supposed, a number of great principles, but trifles all, if care be taken, as the saying is, * e* of the one great thing,--a thing, however, which i would rather call, not great, but sufficient for our purpose. what may that be? he asked. education, i said, and nurture: if our citizens are well educated, and grow into sensible men, they will easily see their way through all these, as well as other matters which i omit; such, for example, as marriage, the possession of * a* women and the procreation of children, which will all follow the general principle that friends have all things in common, as the proverb says. that will be the best way of settling them. [sidenote: good education has a cumulative force and affects the breed.] also, i said, the state, if once started well, moves with accumulating force like a wheel. for good nurture and education implant good constitutions, and these good constitutions taking root in a good education improve more and more, * b* and this improvement affects the breed in man as in other animals. very possibly, he said. [sidenote: no innovations to be made either in music or gymnastic.] [sidenote: damon.] then to sum up: this is the point to which, above all, the attention of our rulers should be directed,--that music and gymnastic be preserved in their original form, and no innovation made. they must do their utmost to maintain them intact. and when any one says that mankind most regard 'the newest song which the singers have[ ],' * c* they will be afraid that he may be praising, not new songs, but a new kind of song; and this ought not to be praised, or conceived to be the meaning of the poet; for any musical innovation is full of danger to the whole state, and ought to be prohibited. so damon tells me, and i can quite believe { } him;--he says that when modes of music change, the fundamental laws of the state always change with them. [footnote : od. i. .] yes, said adeimantus; and you may add my suffrage to damon's and your own. * d* then, i said, our guardians must lay the foundations of their fortress in music? yes, he said; the lawlessness of which you speak too easily steals in. yes, i replied, in the form of amusement; and at first sight it appears harmless. [sidenote: the spirit of lawlessness, beginning in music, gradually pervades the whole of life.] why, yes, he said, and there is no harm; were it not that little by little this spirit of licence, finding a home, imperceptibly penetrates into manners and customs; whence, issuing with greater force, it invades contracts between man and * e* man, and from contracts goes on to laws and constitutions, in utter recklessness, ending at last, socrates, by an overthrow of all rights, private as well as public. is that true? i said. that is my belief, he replied. then, as i was saying, our youth should be trained from the first in a stricter system, for if amusements become * a* lawless, and the youths themselves become lawless, they can never grow up into well-conducted and virtuous citizens. very true, he said. [sidenote: the habit of order the basis of education.] and when they have made a good beginning in play, and by the help of music have gained the habit of good order, then this habit of order, in a manner how unlike the lawless play of the others! will accompany them in all their actions and be a principle of growth to them, and if there be any fallen places in the state will raise them up again. very true, he said. [sidenote: if the citizens have the root of the matter in them, they will supply the details for themselves.] thus educated, they will invent for themselves any lesser rules which their predecessors have altogether neglected. what do you mean? * b* i mean such things as these:--when the young are to be silent before their elders; how they are to show respect to them by standing and making them sit; what honour is due to parents; what garments or shoes are to be worn; the mode of dressing the hair; deportment and manners in general. you would agree with me? { } yes. but there is, i think, small wisdom in legislating about such matters,--i doubt if it is ever done; nor are any precise written enactments about them likely to be lasting. impossible. it would seem, adeimantus, that the direction in which * c* education starts a man, will determine his future life. does not like always attract like? to be sure. until some one rare and grand result is reached which may be good, and may be the reverse of good? that is not to be denied. and for this reason, i said, i shall not attempt to legislate further about them. naturally enough, he replied. [sidenote: the mere routine of administration may be omitted by us.] well, and about the business of the agora, and the ordinary dealings between man and man, or again about agreements * d* with artisans; about insult and injury, or the commencement of actions, and the appointment of juries, what would you say? there may also arise questions about any impositions and exactions of market and harbour dues which may be required, and in general about the regulations of markets, police, harbours, and the like. but, oh heavens! shall we condescend to legislate on any of these particulars? i think, he said, that there is no need to impose laws about * e* them on good men; what regulations are necessary they will find out soon enough for themselves. yes, i said, my friend, if god will only preserve to them the laws which we have given them. and without divine help, said adeimantus, they will go on for ever making and mending their laws and their lives in the hope of attaining perfection. [sidenote: illustration of reformers of the law taken from invalids who are always doctoring themselves, but will never listen to the truth.] you would compare them, i said, to those invalids who, having no self-restraint, will not leave off their habits of intemperance? exactly. * a* yes, i said; and what a delightful life they lead! they are always doctoring and increasing and complicating their disorders, and always fancying that they will be cured by any nostrum which anybody advises them to try. { } such cases are very common, he said, with invalids of this sort. yes, i replied; and the charming thing is that they deem him their worst enemy who tells them the truth, which is simply that, unless they give up eating and drinking and * b* wenching and idling, neither drug nor cautery nor spell nor amulet nor any other remedy will avail. charming! he replied. i see nothing charming in going into a passion with a man who tells you what is right. these gentlemen, i said, do not seem to be in your good graces. assuredly not. nor would you praise the behaviour of states which act like the men whom i was just now describing. for are there not ill-ordered states in which the citizens are forbidden * c* under pain of death to alter the constitution; and yet he who most sweetly courts those who live under this regime and indulges them and fawns upon them and is skilful in anticipating and gratifying their humours is held to be a great and good statesman--do not these states resemble the persons whom i was describing? yes, he said; the states are as bad as the men; and i am very far from praising them. * d* but do you not admire, i said, the coolness and dexterity of these ready ministers of political corruption? [sidenote: demagogues trying their hands at legislation may be excused for their ignorance of the world.] yes, he said, i do; but not of all of them, for there are some whom the applause of the multitude has deluded into the belief that they are really statesmen, and these are not much to be admired. what do you mean? i said; you should have more feeling for them. when a man cannot measure, and a great many * e* others who cannot measure declare that he is four cubits high, can he help believing what they say? nay, he said, certainly not in that case. well, then, do not be angry with them; for are they not as good as a play, trying their hand at paltry reforms such as i was describing; they are always fancying that by legislation they will make an end of frauds in contracts, and the other rascalities which i was mentioning, not knowing that they are in reality cutting off the heads of a hydra? { } * a* yes, he said; that is just what they are doing. i conceive, i said, that the true legislator will not trouble himself with this class of enactments whether concerning laws or the constitution either in an ill-ordered or in a well-ordered state; for in the former they are quite useless, and in the latter there will be no difficulty in devising them; and many of them will naturally flow out of our previous regulations. * b* what, then, he said, is still remaining to us of the work of legislation? nothing to us, i replied; but to apollo, the god of delphi, there remains the ordering of the greatest and noblest and chiefest things of all. which are they? he said. [sidenote: religion to be left to the god of delphi.] the institution of temples and sacrifices, and the entire service of gods, demigods, and heroes; also the ordering of the repositories of the dead, and the rites which have to be observed by him who would propitiate the inhabitants of the world below. these are matters of which we are ignorant ourselves, and as founders of a city we should be * c* unwise in trusting them to any interpreter but our ancestral deity. he is the god who sits in the centre, on the navel of the earth, and he is the interpreter of religion to all mankind. you are right, and we will do as you propose. but where, amid all this, is justice? son of ariston, tell me where. * d* now that our city has been made habitable, light a candle and search, and get your brother and polemarchus and the rest of our friends to help, and let us see where in it we can discover justice and where injustice, and in what they differ from one another, and which of them the man who would be happy should have for his portion, whether seen or unseen by gods and men. [sidenote: socrates, glaucon.] nonsense, said glaucon: did you not promise to search * e* yourself, saying that for you not to help justice in her need would be an impiety? i do not deny that i said so, and as you remind me, i will be as good as my word; but you must join. we will, he replied. well, then, i hope to make the discovery in this way: { } i mean to begin with the assumption that our state, if rightly ordered, is perfect. that is most certain. and being perfect, is therefore wise and valiant and temperate and just. that is likewise clear. and whichever of these qualities we find in the state, the one which is not found will be the residue? * a* very good. if there were four things, and we were searching for one of them, wherever it might be, the one sought for might be known to us from the first, and there would be no further trouble; or we might know the other three first, and then the fourth would clearly be the one left. very true, he said. and is not a similar method to be pursued about the virtues, which are also four in number? clearly. [sidenote: the place of the virtues in the state: ( ) the wisdom of the statesman advises, not about particular arts or pursuits,] first among the virtues found in the state, wisdom comes * b* into view, and in this i detect a certain peculiarity. what is that? the state which we have been describing is said to be wise as being good in counsel? very true. and good counsel is clearly a kind of knowledge, for not by ignorance, but by knowledge, do men counsel well? clearly. and the kinds of knowledge in a state are many and diverse? of course. there is the knowledge of the carpenter; but is that the sort of knowledge which gives a city the title of wise and good in counsel? * c* certainly not; that would only give a city the reputation of skill in carpentering. then a city is not to be called wise because possessing a knowledge which counsels for the best about wooden implements? certainly not. nor by reason of a knowledge which advises about brazen { } pots, i said, nor as possessing any other similar knowledge? not by reason of any of them, he said. nor yet by reason of a knowledge which cultivates the earth; that would give the city the name of agricultural? yes. [sidenote: but about the whole state.] well, i said, and is there any knowledge in our recently-founded state among any of the citizens which advises, * d* not about any particular thing in the state, but about the whole, and considers how a state can best deal with itself and with other states? there certainly is. and what is this knowledge, and among whom is it found? i asked. it is the knowledge of the guardians, he replied, and is found among those whom we were just now describing as perfect guardians. and what is the name which the city derives from the possession of this sort of knowledge? the name of good in counsel and truly wise. [sidenote: the statesmen or guardians are the smallest of all classes in the state.] * e* and will there be in our city more of these true guardians or more smiths? the smiths, he replied, will be far more numerous. will not the guardians be the smallest of all the classes who receive a name from the profession of some kind of knowledge? much the smallest. and so by reason of the smallest part or class, and of the knowledge which resides in this presiding and ruling part of itself, the whole state, being thus constituted according to * a* nature, will be wise; and this, which has the only knowledge worthy to be called wisdom, has been ordained by nature to be of all classes the least. most true. thus, then, i said, the nature and place in the state of one of the four virtues has somehow or other been discovered. and, in my humble opinion, very satisfactorily discovered, he replied. again, i said, there is no difficulty in seeing the nature of { } courage, and in what part that quality resides which gives the name of courageous to the state. how do you mean? [sidenote: ( ) the courage which makes the city courageous is found chiefly in the soldier.] * b* why, i said, every one who calls any state courageous or cowardly, will be thinking of the part which fights and goes out to war on the state's behalf. no one, he replied, would ever think of any other. the rest of the citizens may be courageous or may be cowardly, but their courage or cowardice will not, as i conceive, have the effect of making the city either the one or the other. certainly not. [sidenote: it is the quality which preserves right opinion about things to be feared and not to be feared.] the city will be courageous in virtue of a portion of herself which preserves under all circumstances that opinion * c* about the nature of things to be feared and not to be feared in which our legislator educated them; and this is what you term courage. i should like to hear what you are saying once more, for i do not think that i perfectly understand you. i mean that courage is a kind of salvation. salvation of what? of the opinion respecting things to be feared, what they are and of what nature, which the law implants through education; and i mean by the words 'under all circumstances' * d* to intimate that in pleasure or in pain, or under the influence of desire or fear, a man preserves, and does not lose this opinion. shall i give you an illustration? if you please. [sidenote: illustration from the art of dyeing.] you know, i said, that dyers, when they want to dye wool for making the true sea-purple, begin by selecting their white colour first; this they prepare and dress with much care and pains, in order that the white ground may take the purple hue in full perfection. the dyeing then proceeds; and * e* whatever is dyed in this manner becomes a fast colour, and no washing either with lyes or without them can take away the bloom. but, when the ground has not been duly prepared, you will have noticed how poor is the look either of purple or of any other colour. yes, he said; i know that they have a washed-out and ridiculous appearance. { } [sidenote: our soldiers must take the dye of the laws.] then now, i said, you will understand what our object was * a* in selecting our soldiers, and educating them in music and gymnastic; we were contriving influences which would prepare them to take the dye of the laws in perfection, and the colour of their opinion about dangers and of every other opinion was to be indelibly fixed by their nurture and training, not to be washed away by such potent lyes as pleasure--mightier agent far in washing the soul than any soda or lye; * b* or by sorrow, fear, and desire, the mightiest of all other solvents. and this sort of universal saving power of true opinion in conformity with law about real and false dangers i call and maintain to be courage, unless you disagree. but i agree, he replied; for i suppose that you mean to exclude mere uninstructed courage, such as that of a wild beast or of a slave--this, in your opinion, is not the courage which the law ordains, and ought to have another name. * c* most certainly. then i may infer courage to be such as you describe? why, yes, said i, you may, and if you add the words 'of a citizen,' you will not be far wrong;--hereafter, if you like, we will carry the examination further, but at present we are seeking not for courage but justice; and for the purpose of our enquiry we have said enough. you are right, he replied. [sidenote: two other virtues, temperance and justice, which must be considered in their proper order.] two virtues remain to be discovered in the state--first, * d* temperance, and then justice which is the end of our search. very true. now, can we find justice without troubling ourselves about temperance? i do not know how that can be accomplished, he said, nor do i desire that justice should be brought to light and temperance lost sight of; and therefore i wish that you would do me the favour of considering temperance first. * e* certainly, i replied, i should not be justified in refusing your request. then consider, he said. yes, i replied; i will; and as far as i can at present see, the virtue of temperance has more of the nature of harmony and symphony than the preceding. how so? he asked. { } temperance, i replied, is the ordering or controlling of certain pleasures and desires; this is curiously enough implied in the saying of 'a man being his own master;' and other traces of the same notion may be found in language. no doubt, he said. [sidenote: the temperate is master of himself, but the same person, when intemperate, is also the slave of himself.] there is something ridiculous in the expression 'master of himself;' * a* for the master is also the servant and the servant the master; and in all these modes of speaking the same person is denoted. certainly. the meaning is, i believe, that in the human soul there is a better and also a worse principle; and when the better has the worse under control, then a man is said to be master of himself; and this is a term of praise: but when, owing to evil education or association, the better principle, which is also the smaller, is overwhelmed by the greater mass of the * b* worse--in this case he is blamed and is called the slave of self and unprincipled. yes, there is reason in that. and now, i said, look at our newly-created state, and there you will find one of these two conditions realized; for the state, as you will acknowledge, may be justly called master of itself, if the words 'temperance' and 'self-mastery' truly express the rule of the better part over the worse. yes, he said, i see that what you say is true. let me further note that the manifold and complex pleasures * c* and desires and pains are generally found in children and women and servants, and in the freemen so called who are of the lowest and more numerous class. certainly, he said. whereas the simple and moderate desires which follow reason, and are under the guidance of mind and true opinion, are to be found only in a few, and those the best born and best educated. very true. [sidenote: the state which has the passions and desires of the many controlled by the few may be rightly called temperate.] these two, as you may perceive, have a place in our state; * d* and the meaner desires of the many are held down by the virtuous desires and wisdom of the few. that i perceive, he said. then if there be any city which may be described as { } master of its own pleasures and desires, and master of itself, ours may claim such a designation? certainly, he replied. it may also be called temperate, and for the same reasons? yes. and if there be any state in which rulers and subjects * e* will be agreed as to the question who are to rule, that again will be our state? undoubtedly. and the citizens being thus agreed among themselves, in which class will temperance be found--in the rulers or in the subjects? in both, as i should imagine, he replied. do you observe that we were not far wrong in our guess that temperance was a sort of harmony? why so? [sidenote: temperance resides in the whole state.] why, because temperance is unlike courage and wisdom, each of which resides in a part only, the one making the * a* state wise and the other valiant; not so temperance, which extends to the whole, and runs through all the notes of the scale, and produces a harmony of the weaker and the stronger and the middle class, whether you suppose them to be stronger or weaker in wisdom or power or numbers or wealth, or anything else. most truly then may we deem temperance to be the agreement of the naturally superior and inferior, as to the right to rule of either, both in states and individuals. * b* i entirely agree with you. and so, i said, we may consider three out of the four virtues to have been discovered in our state. the last of those qualities which make a state virtuous must be justice, if we only knew what that was. the inference is obvious. [sidenote: justice is not far off.] the time then has arrived, glaucon, when, like huntsmen, we should surround the cover, and look sharp that justice does not steal away, and pass out of sight and escape us; for * c* beyond a doubt she is somewhere in this country: watch therefore and strive to catch a sight of her, and if you see her first, let me know. would that i could! but you should regard me rather as { } a follower who has just eyes enough to see what you show him--that is about as much as i am good for. offer up a prayer with me and follow. i will, but you must show me the way. here is no path, i said, and the wood is dark and perplexing; still we must push on. * d* let us push on. here i saw something: halloo! i said, i begin to perceive a track, and i believe that the quarry will not escape. good news, he said. truly, i said, we are stupid fellows. why so? why, my good sir, at the beginning of our enquiry, ages ago, there was justice tumbling out at our feet, and we never saw her; nothing could be more ridiculous. like people who go about looking for what they have in their hands--that * e* was the way with us--we looked not at what we were seeking, but at what was far off in the distance; and therefore, i suppose, we missed her. what do you mean? i mean to say that in reality for a long time past we have been talking of justice, and have failed to recognise her. i grow impatient at the length of your exordium. [sidenote: we had already found her when we spoke of one man doing one thing only.] * a* well then, tell me, i said, whether i am right or not: you remember the original principle which we were always laying down at the foundation of the state, that one man should practise one thing only, the thing to which his nature was best adapted;--now justice is this principle or a part of it. yes, we often said that one man should do one thing only. further, we affirmed that justice was doing one's own business, and not being a busybody; we said so again and again, * b* and many others have said the same to us. yes, we said so. then to do one's own business in a certain way may be assumed to be justice. can you tell me whence i derive this inference? i cannot, but i should like to be told. [sidenote: from another point of view justice is the residue of the three others.] because i think that this is the only virtue which remains in the state when the other virtues of temperance and courage and wisdom are abstracted; and, that this is the ultimate { } cause and condition of the existence of all of them, and while remaining in them is also their preservative; * c* and we were saying that if the three were discovered by us, justice would be the fourth or remaining one. that follows of necessity. if we are asked to determine which of these four qualities by its presence contributes most to the excellence of the state, whether the agreement of rulers and subjects, or the preservation in the soldiers of the opinion which the law ordains about the true nature of dangers, or wisdom and * d* watchfulness in the rulers, or whether this other which i am mentioning, and which is found in children and women, slave and freeman, artisan, ruler, subject,--the quality, i mean, of every one doing his own work, and not being a busybody, would claim the palm--the question is not so easily answered. certainly, he replied, there would be a difficulty in saying which. then the power of each individual in the state to do his own work appears to compete with the other political virtues, wisdom, temperance, courage. yes, he said. and the virtue which enters into this competition is * e* justice? exactly. [sidenote: our idea is confirmed by the administration of justice in lawsuits. no man is to have what is not his own.] let us look at the question from another point of view: are not the rulers in a state those to whom you would entrust the office of determining suits at law? certainly. and are suits decided on any other ground but that a man may neither take what is another's, nor be deprived of what is his own? yes; that is their principle. which is a just principle? yes. then on this view also justice will be admitted to be the having and doing what is a man's own, and belongs to him? * a* very true. [sidenote: illustration: classes, like individuals, should not meddle with one another's occupations.] think, now, and say whether you agree with me or not. suppose a carpenter to be doing the business of a cobbler, { } or a cobbler of a carpenter; and suppose them to exchange their implements or their duties, or the same person to be doing the work of both, or whatever be the change; do you think that any great harm would result to the state? not much. but when the cobbler or any other man whom nature * b* designed to be a trader, having his heart lifted up by wealth or strength or the number of his followers, or any like advantage, attempts to force his way into the class of warriors, or a warrior into that of legislators and guardians, for which he is unfitted, and either to take the implements or the duties of the other; or when one man is trader, legislator, and warrior all in one, then i think you will agree with me in saying that this interchange and this meddling of one with another is the ruin of the state. most true. seeing then, i said, that there are three distinct classes, any meddling of one with another, or the change of one into * c* another, is the greatest harm to the state, and may be most justly termed evil-doing? precisely. and the greatest degree of evil-doing to one's own city would be termed by you injustice? certainly. this then is injustice; and on the other hand when the trader, the auxiliary, and the guardian each do their own business, that is justice, and will make the city just. * d* i agree with you. [sidenote: from the larger example of the state we will now return to the individual.] we will not, i said, be over-positive as yet; but if, on trial, this conception of justice be verified in the individual as well as in the state, there will be no longer any room for doubt; if it be not verified, we must have a fresh enquiry. first let us complete the old investigation, which we began, as you remember, under the impression that, if we could previously examine justice on the larger scale, there would be less difficulty in discerning her in the individual. that larger * e* example appeared to be the state, and accordingly we constructed as good a one as we could, knowing well that in the good state justice would be found. let the discovery which we made be now applied to the individual--if they agree, { } we shall be satisfied; or, if there be a difference in the individual, we will come back to the state and have another * a* trial of the theory. the friction of the two when rubbed together may possibly strike a light in which justice will shine forth, and the vision which is then revealed we will fix in our souls. that will be in regular course; let us do as you say. i proceeded to ask: when two things, a greater and less, are called by the same name, are they like or unlike in so far as they are called the same? like, he replied. * b* the just man then, if we regard the idea of justice only, will be like the just state? he will. and a state was thought by us to be just when the three classes in the state severally did their own business; and also thought to be temperate and valiant and wise by reason of certain other affections and qualities of these same classes? true, he said. and so of the individual; we may assume that he has the * c* same three principles in his own soul which are found in the state; and he may be rightly described in the same terms, because he is affected in the same manner? certainly, he said. [sidenote: how can we decide whether or no the soul has three distinct principles?] once more then, o my friend, we have alighted upon an easy question--whether the soul has these three principles or not? an easy question! nay, rather, socrates, the proverb holds that hard is the good. [sidenote: our method is inadequate, and for a better and longer one we have not at present time.] very true, i said; and i do not think that the method * d* which we are employing is at all adequate to the accurate solution of this question; the true method is another and a longer one. still we may arrive at a solution not below the level of the previous enquiry. may we not be satisfied with that? he said;--under the circumstances, i am quite content. i too, i replied, shall be extremely well satisfied. then faint not in pursuing the speculation, he said. * e* must we not acknowledge, i said, that in each of us there { } are the same principles and habits which there are in the state; and that from the individual they pass into the state?--how else can they come there? take the quality of passion or spirit;--it would be ridiculous to imagine that this quality, when found in states, is not derived from the individuals who are supposed to possess it, e.g. the thracians, scythians, and in general the northern nations; and the same may be said of the love of knowledge, which is the special characteristic of our part of the world, or of the * a* love of money, which may, with equal truth, be attributed to the phoenicians and egyptians. exactly so, he said. there is no difficulty in understanding this. none whatever. [sidenote: a digression in which an attempt is made to attain logical clearness.] but the question is not quite so easy when we proceed to ask whether these principles are three or one; whether, that is to say, we learn with one part of our nature, are angry with another, and with a third part desire the satisfaction * b* of our natural appetites; or whether the whole soul comes into play in each sort of action--to determine that is the difficulty. yes, he said; there lies the difficulty. then let us now try and determine whether they are the same or different. how can we? he asked. [sidenote: the criterion of truth: nothing can be and not be at the same time in the same relation.] i replied as follows: the same thing clearly cannot act or be acted upon in the same part or in relation to the same thing at the same time, in contrary ways; and therefore whenever this contradiction occurs in things apparently the same, we know that they are really not the same, but * c* different. good. for example, i said, can the same thing be at rest and in motion at the same time in the same part? impossible. still, i said, let us have a more precise statement of terms, lest we should hereafter fall out by the way. imagine the case of a man who is standing and also moving his hands and his head, and suppose a person to say that one and the same person is in motion and at rest at the same moment { } --to such a mode of speech we should object, and should * d* rather say that one part of him is in motion while another is at rest. very true. [sidenote: anticipation of objections to this 'law of thought.'] and suppose the objector to refine still further, and to draw the nice distinction that not only parts of tops, but whole tops, when they spin round with their pegs fixed on the spot, are at rest and in motion at the same time (and he may say the same of anything which revolves in the same spot), his objection would not be admitted by us, because * e* in such cases things are not at rest and in motion in the same parts of themselves; we should rather say that they have both an axis and a circumference, and that the axis stands still, for there is no deviation from the perpendicular; and that the circumference goes round. but if, while revolving, the axis inclines either to the right or left, forwards or backwards, then in no point of view can they be at rest. that is the correct mode of describing them, he replied. then none of these objections will confuse us, or incline us to believe that the same thing at the same time, in the * a* same part or in relation to the same thing, can act or be acted upon in contrary ways. certainly not, according to my way of thinking. yet, i said, that we may not be compelled to examine all such objections, and prove at length that they are untrue, let us assume their absurdity, and go forward on the understanding that hereafter, if this assumption turn out to be untrue, all the consequences which follow shall be withdrawn. yes, he said, that will be the best way. [sidenote: likes and dislikes exist in many forms.] * b* well, i said, would you not allow that assent and dissent, desire and aversion, attraction and repulsion, are all of them opposites, whether they are regarded as active or passive (for that makes no difference in the fact of their opposition)? yes, he said, they are opposites. well, i said, and hunger and thirst, and the desires in general, and again willing and wishing,--all these you would * c* refer to the classes already mentioned. you would say--would you not?--that the soul of him who desires is seeking { } after the object of his desire; or that he is drawing to himself the thing which he wishes to possess: or again, when a person wants anything to be given him, his mind, longing for the realization of his desire, intimates his wish to have it by a nod of assent, as if he had been asked a question? very true. and what would you say of unwillingness and dislike and the absence of desire; should not these be referred to the opposite class of repulsion and rejection? * d* certainly. admitting this to be true of desire generally, let us suppose a particular class of desires, and out of these we will select hunger and thirst, as they are termed, which are the most obvious of them? let us take that class, he said. the object of one is food, and of the other drink? yes. [sidenote: there may be simple thirst or qualified thirst, having respectively a simple or a qualified object.] and here comes the point: is not thirst the desire which the soul has of drink, and of drink only; not of drink qualified by anything else; for example, warm or cold, or much or little, or, in a word, drink of any particular sort: but if * e* the thirst be accompanied by heat, then the desire is of cold drink; or, if accompanied by cold, then of warm drink; or, if the thirst be excessive, then the drink which is desired will be excessive; or, if not great, the quantity of drink will also be small: but thirst pure and simple will desire drink pure and simple, which is the natural satisfaction of thirst, as food is of hunger? yes, he said; the simple desire is, as you say, in every case of the simple object, and the qualified desire of the qualified object. [sidenote: exception: the term good expresses, not a particular, but an universal relation.] * a* but here a confusion may arise; and i should wish to guard against an opponent starting up and saying that no man desires drink only, but good drink, or food only, but good food; for good is the universal object of desire, and thirst being a desire, will necessarily be thirst after good drink; and the same is true of every other desire. yes, he replied, the opponent might have something to say. nevertheless i should still maintain, that of relatives some { } * b* have a quality attached to either term of the relation; others are simple and have their correlatives simple. i do not know what you mean. [sidenote: illustration of the argument from the use of language about correlative terms.] well, you know of course that the greater is relative to the less? certainly. and the much greater to the much less? yes. and the sometime greater to the sometime less, and the greater that is to be to the less that is to be? certainly, he said. * c* and so of more and less, and of other correlative terms, such as the double and the half, or again, the heavier and the lighter, the swifter and the slower; and of hot and cold, and of any other relatives;--is not this true of all of them? yes. and does not the same principle hold in the sciences? the object of science is knowledge (assuming that to be the true definition), but the object of a particular science is a * d* particular kind of knowledge; i mean, for example, that the science of house-building is a kind of knowledge which is defined and distinguished from other kinds and is therefore termed architecture. certainly. because it has a particular quality which no other has? yes. and it has this particular quality because it has an object of a particular kind; and this is true of the other arts and sciences? yes. [sidenote: recapitulation] [sidenote: anticipation of a possible confusion.] now, then, if i have made myself clear, you will understand my original meaning in what i said about relatives. my meaning was, that if one term of a relation is taken alone, the other is taken alone; if one term is qualified, the other is also qualified. * e* i do not mean to say that relatives may not be disparate, or that the science of health is healthy, or of disease necessarily diseased, or that the sciences of good and evil are therefore good and evil; but only that, when the term science is no longer used absolutely, but has a qualified object which in this case is the nature of health and disease, { } it becomes defined, and is hence called not merely science, but the science of medicine. i quite understand, and i think as you do. * a* would you not say that thirst is one of these essentially relative terms, having clearly a relation-- yes, thirst is relative to drink. and a certain kind of thirst is relative to a certain kind of drink; but thirst taken alone is neither of much nor little, nor of good nor bad, nor of any particular kind of drink, but of drink only? certainly. then the soul of the thirsty one, in so far as he is thirsty, * b* desires only drink; for this he yearns and tries to obtain it? that is plain. [sidenote: the law of contradiction.] and if you suppose something which pulls a thirsty soul away from drink, that must be different from the thirsty principle which draws him like a beast to drink; for, as we were saying, the same thing cannot at the same time with the same part of itself act in contrary ways about the same. impossible. no more than you can say that the hands of the archer push and pull the bow at the same time, but what you say is that one hand pushes and the other pulls. * c* exactly so, he replied. and might a man be thirsty, and yet unwilling to drink? yes, he said, it constantly happens. and in such a case what is one to say? would you not say that there was something in the soul bidding a man to drink, and something else forbidding him, which is other and stronger than the principle which bids him? i should say so. [sidenote: the opposition of desire and reason.] * d* and the forbidding principle is derived from reason, and that which bids and attracts proceeds from passion and disease? clearly. then we may fairly assume that they are two, and that they differ from one another; the one with which a man reasons, we may call the rational principle of the soul, the other, with which he loves and hungers and thirsts and feels the { } flutterings of any other desire, may be termed the irrational or appetitive, the ally of sundry pleasures and satisfactions? * e* yes, he said, we may fairly assume them to be different. then let us finally determine that there are two principles existing in the soul. and what of passion, or spirit? is it a third, or akin to one of the preceding? i should be inclined to say--akin to desire. [sidenote: the third principle of spirit or passion illustrated by an example.] well, i said, there is a story which i remember to have heard, and in which i put faith. the story is, that leontius, the son of aglaion, coming up one day from the piraeus, under the north wall on the outside, observed some dead bodies lying on the ground at the place of execution. he felt a desire to see them, and also a dread and abhorrence of them; * a* for a time he struggled and covered his eyes, but at length the desire got the better of him; and forcing them open, he ran up to the dead bodies, saying, look, ye wretches, take your fill of the fair sight. i have heard the story myself, he said. the moral of the tale is, that anger at times goes to war with desire, as though they were two distinct things. yes; that is the meaning, he said. [sidenote: passion never takes part with desire against reason.] and are there not many other cases in which we observe * b* that when a man's desires violently prevail over his reason, he reviles himself, and is angry at the violence within him, and that in this struggle, which is like the struggle of factions in a state, his spirit is on the side of his reason;--but for the passionate or spirited element to take part with the desires when reason decides that she should not be opposed[ ], is a sort of thing which i believe that you never observed occurring in yourself, nor, as i should imagine, in any one else? [footnote : reading [greek: mê\ dei=n a)ntipra/tein], without a comma after [greek: dei=n].] certainly not. [sidenote: righteous indignation never felt by a person of noble character when he deservedly suffers.] * c* suppose that a man thinks he has done a wrong to another, the nobler he is the less able is he to feel indignant at any suffering, such as hunger, or cold, or any other pain which the injured person may inflict upon him--these he deems to be just, and, as i say, his anger refuses to be excited by them. true, he said. but when he thinks that he is the sufferer of the wrong, { } then he boils and chafes, and is on the side of what he believes to be justice; and because he suffers hunger * d* or cold or other pain he is only the more determined to persevere and conquer. his noble spirit will not be quelled until he either slays or is slain; or until he hears the voice of the shepherd, that is, reason, bidding his dog bark no more. the illustration is perfect, he replied; and in our state, as we were saying, the auxiliaries were to be dogs, and to hear the voice of the rulers, who are their shepherds. i perceive, i said, that you quite understand me; there is, however, a further point which i wish you to consider. * e* what point? you remember that passion or spirit appeared at first sight to be a kind of desire, but now we should say quite the contrary; for in the conflict of the soul spirit is arrayed on the side of the rational principle. most assuredly. [sidenote: not two, but three principles in the soul, as in the state.] but a further question arises: is passion different from reason also, or only a kind of reason; in which latter case, instead of three principles in the soul, there will only be two, * a* the rational and the concupiscent; or rather, as the state was composed of three classes, traders, auxiliaries, counsellors, so may there not be in the individual soul a third element which is passion or spirit, and when not corrupted by bad education is the natural auxiliary of reason? yes, he said, there must be a third. yes, i replied, if passion, which has already been shown to be different from desire, turn out also to be different from reason. but that is easily proved:--we may observe even in young children that they are full of spirit almost as soon as they are born, whereas some of them never seem to attain to * b* the use of reason, and most of them late enough. [sidenote: appeal to homer.] excellent, i said, and you may see passion equally in brute animals, which is a further proof of the truth of what you are saying. and we may once more appeal to the words of homer, which have been already quoted by us, 'he smote his breast, and thus rebuked his soul[ ],' { } * c* for in this verse homer has clearly supposed the power which reasons about the better and worse to be different from the unreasoning anger which is rebuked by it. [footnote : od. xx. , quoted supra, iii. d.] very true, he said. [sidenote: the conclusion that the same three principles exist both in the state and in the individual applied to each of them.] and so, after much tossing, we have reached land, and are fairly agreed that the same principles which exist in the state exist also in the individual, and that they are three in number. exactly. must we not then infer that the individual is wise in the same way, and in virtue of the same quality which makes the state wise? certainly. * d* also that the same quality which constitutes courage in the state constitutes courage in the individual, and that both the state and the individual bear the same relation to all the other virtues? assuredly. and the individual will be acknowledged by us to be just in the same way in which the state is just? that follows, of course. we cannot but remember that the justice of the state * e* consisted in each of the three classes doing the work of its own class? we are not very likely to have forgotten, he said. we must recollect that the individual in whom the several qualities of his nature do their own work will be just, and will do his own work? yes, he said, we must remember that too. and ought not the rational principle, which is wise, and has the care of the whole soul, to rule, and the passionate or spirited principle to be the subject and ally? certainly. [sidenote: music and gymnastic will harmonize passion and reason. these two combined will control desire,] and, as we were saying, the united influence of music and gymnastic will bring them into accord, nerving and sustaining the reason with noble words and lessons, and moderating and * a* soothing and civilizing the wildness of passion by harmony and rhythm? quite true, he said. and these two, thus nurtured and educated, and having { } learned truly to know their own functions, will rule[ ] over the concupiscent, which in each of us is the largest part of the soul and by nature most insatiable of gain; over this they will keep guard, lest, waxing great and strong with the fulness of bodily pleasures, as they are termed, the * b* concupiscent soul, no longer confined to her own sphere, should attempt to enslave and rule those who are not her natural-born subjects, and overturn the whole life of man? [footnote : reading [greek: prostatê/seton] with bekker; or, if the reading [greek: prostê/seton], which is found in the mss., be adopted, then the nominative must be supplied from the previous sentence: 'music and gymnastic will place in authority over ...' this is very awkward, and the awkwardness is increased by the necessity of changing the subject at [greek: têrê/seton].] very true, he said. [sidenote: and will be the best defenders both of body and soul.] both together will they not be the best defenders of the whole soul and the whole body against attacks from without; the one counselling, and the other fighting under his leader, and courageously executing his commands and counsels? true. [sidenote: the courageous.] and he is to be deemed courageous whose spirit retains in * c* pleasure and in pain the commands of reason about what he ought or ought not to fear? right, he replied. [sidenote: the wise.] and him we call wise who has in him that little part which rules, and which proclaims these commands; that part too being supposed to have a knowledge of what is for the interest of each of the three parts and of the whole? assuredly. [sidenote: the temperate.] and would you not say that he is temperate who has these same elements in friendly harmony, in whom the one ruling principle of reason, and the two subject ones of spirit and * d* desire are equally agreed that reason ought to rule, and do not rebel? certainly, he said, that is the true account of temperance whether in the state or individual. [sidenote: the just.] and surely, i said, we have explained again and again how and by virtue of what quality a man will be just. that is very certain. and is justice dimmer in the individual, and is her form different, or is she the same which we found her to be in the state? { } there is no difference in my opinion, he said. [sidenote: the nature of justice illustrated by commonplace instances.] because, if any doubt is still lingering in our minds, a few * e* commonplace instances will satisfy us of the truth of what i am saying. what sort of instances do you mean? if the case is put to us, must we not admit that the just * a* state, or the man who is trained in the principles of such a state, will be less likely than the unjust to make away with a deposit of gold or silver? would any one deny this? no one, he replied. will the just man or citizen ever be guilty of sacrilege or theft, or treachery either to his friends or to his country? never. neither will he ever break faith where there have been oaths or agreements? impossible. no one will be less likely to commit adultery, or to dishonour his father and mother, or to fail in his religious duties? no one. * b* and the reason is that each part of him is doing its own business, whether in ruling or being ruled? exactly so. are you satisfied then that the quality which makes such men and such states is justice, or do you hope to discover some other? not i, indeed. [sidenote: we have realized the hope entertained in the first construction of the state.] then our dream has been realized; and the suspicion which we entertained at the beginning of our work of construction, * c* that some divine power must have conducted us to a primary form of justice, has now been verified? yes, certainly. and the division of labour which required the carpenter and the shoemaker and the rest of the citizens to be doing each his own business, and not another's, was a shadow of justice, and for that reason it was of use? clearly. [sidenote: the three principles harmonize in one.] [sidenote: the harmony of human life.] but in reality justice was such as we were describing, being concerned however, not with the outward man, but * d* with the inward, which is the true self and concernment of { } man: for the just man does not permit the several elements within him to interfere with one another, or any of them to do the work of others,--he sets in order his own inner life, and is his own master and his own law, and at peace with himself; and when he has bound together the three principles within him, which may be compared to the higher, lower, and middle notes of the scale, and the intermediate intervals--when he has bound all these together, and is no longer * e* many, but has become one entirely temperate and perfectly adjusted nature, then he proceeds to act, if he has to act, whether in a matter of property, or in the treatment of the body, or in some affair of politics or private business; always thinking and calling that which preserves and co-operates with this harmonious condition, just and good action, and the knowledge which presides over it, wisdom, * a* and that which at any time impairs this condition, he will call unjust action, and the opinion which presides over it ignorance. you have said the exact truth, socrates. very good; and if we were to affirm that we had discovered the just man and the just state, and the nature of justice in each of them, we should not be telling a falsehood? most certainly not. may we say so, then? let us say so. and now, i said, injustice has to be considered. clearly. [sidenote: injustice the opposite of justice.] * b* must not injustice be a strife which arises among the three principles--a meddlesomeness, and interference, and rising up of a part of the soul against the whole, an assertion of unlawful authority, which is made by a rebellious subject against a true prince, of whom he is the natural vassal,--what is all this confusion and delusion but injustice, and intemperance and cowardice and ignorance, and every form of vice? exactly so. * c* and if the nature of justice and injustice be known, then the meaning of acting unjustly and being unjust, or, again, of acting justly, will also be perfectly clear? what do you mean? he said. why, i said, they are like disease and health; being in the soul just what disease and health are in the body. { } how so? he said. [sidenote: analogy of body and soul.] why, i said, that which is healthy causes health, and that which is unhealthy causes disease. yes. * d* and just actions cause justice, and unjust actions cause injustice? that is certain. [sidenote: health : disease :: justice : injustice.] and the creation of health is the institution of a natural order and government of one by another in the parts of the body; and the creation of disease is the production of a state of things at variance with this natural order? true. and is not the creation of justice the institution of a natural order and government of one by another in the parts of the soul, and the creation of injustice the production of a state of things at variance with the natural order? exactly so, he said. then virtue is the health and beauty and well-being of the * e* soul, and vice the disease and weakness and deformity of the same? true. and do not good practices lead to virtue, and evil practices to vice? assuredly. [sidenote: the old question, whether the just or the unjust is the happier, has become ridiculous.] * a* still our old question of the comparative advantage of justice and injustice has not been answered: which is the more profitable, to be just and act justly and practise virtue, whether seen or unseen of gods and men, or to be unjust and act unjustly, if only unpunished and unreformed? in my judgment, socrates, the question has now become ridiculous. we know that, when the bodily constitution is gone, life is no longer endurable, though pampered with all kinds of meats and drinks, and having all wealth and all power; and shall we be told that when the very essence of the vital principle is undermined and corrupted, life is * b* still worth having to a man, if only he be allowed to do whatever he likes with the single exception that he is not to acquire justice and virtue, or to escape from injustice and vice; assuming them both to be such as we have described? yes, i said, the question is, as you say, ridiculous. still, { } as we are near the spot at which we may see the truth in the clearest manner with our own eyes, let us not faint by the way. certainly not, he replied. * c* come up hither, i said, and behold the various forms of vice, those of them, i mean, which are worth looking at. i am following you, he replied: proceed. i said, the argument seems to have reached a height from which, as from some tower of speculation, a man may look down and see that virtue is one, but that the forms of vice are innumerable; there being four special ones which are deserving of note. what do you mean? he said. [sidenote: as many forms of the soul as of the state.] i mean, i replied, that there appear to be as many forms of the soul as there are distinct forms of the state. how many? * d* there are five of the state, and five of the soul, i said. what are they? the first, i said, is that which we have been describing, and which may be said to have two names, monarchy and aristocracy, accordingly as rule is exercised by one distinguished man or by many. true, he replied. but i regard the two names as describing one form only; * e* for whether the government is in the hands of one or many, if the governors have been trained in the manner which we have supposed, the fundamental laws of the state will be maintained. that is true, he replied. book v. [sidenote: _republic v._ socrates, glaucon, adeimantus.] [sidenote: the community of women and children.] * a* such is the good and true city or state, and the good and true man is of the same pattern; and if this is right every other is wrong; and the evil is one which affects not only the ordering of the state, but also the regulation of the individual soul, and is exhibited in four forms. what are they? he said. i was proceeding to tell the order in which the four evil * b* forms appeared to me to succeed one another, when polemarchus, who was sitting a little way off, just beyond adeimantus, began to whisper to him: stretching forth his hand, he took hold of the upper part of his coat by the shoulder, and drew him towards him, leaning forward himself so as to be quite close and saying something in his ear, of which i only caught the words, 'shall we let him off, or what shall we do?' certainly not, said adeimantus, raising his voice. who is it, i said, whom you are refusing to let off? you, he said. * c* i repeated[ ], why am i especially not to be let off? [footnote : reading [greek: e)/ti e)gô\ ei)=pon].] [sidenote: the saying 'friends have all things in common' is an insufficient solution of the problem.] why, he said, we think that you are lazy, and mean to cheat us out of a whole chapter which is a very important part of the story; and you fancy that we shall not notice your airy way of proceeding; as if it were self-evident to everybody, that in the matter of women and children 'friends have all things in common.' and was i not right, adeimantus? yes, he said; but what is right in this particular case, like everything else, requires to be explained; for community may be of many kinds. please, therefore, to say what sort * d* of community you mean. we have been long { } expecting that you would tell us something about the family life of your citizens--how they will bring children into the world, and rear them when they have arrived, and, in general, what is the nature of this community of women and children--for we are of opinion that the right or wrong management of such matters will have a great and paramount influence on the state for good or for evil. and now, since the question is still undetermined, and you are taking in hand another * a* state, we have resolved, as you heard, not to let you go until you give an account of all this. to that resolution, said glaucon, you may regard me as saying agreed. [sidenote: socrates, thrasymachus.] and without more ado, said thrasymachus, you may consider us all to be equally agreed. [sidenote: the feigned surprise of socrates.] i said, you know not what you are doing in thus assailing me: what an argument are you raising about the state! just as i thought that i had finished, and was only too glad that i had laid this question to sleep, and was reflecting how fortunate i was in your acceptance of what i then said, you ask me to begin again at the very foundation, ignorant of * b* what a hornet's nest of words you are stirring. now i foresaw this gathering trouble, and avoided it. [sidenote: the good-humour of thrasymachus.] for what purpose do you conceive that we have come here, said thrasymachus,--to look for gold, or to hear discourse? yes, but discourse should have a limit. [sidenote: socrates, glaucon.] yes, socrates, said glaucon, and the whole of life is the only limit which wise men assign to the hearing of such discourses. but never mind about us; take heart yourself * c* and answer the question in your own way: what sort of community of women and children is this which is to prevail among our guardians? and how shall we manage the period between birth and education, which seems to require the greatest care? tell us how these things will be. yes, my simple friend, but the answer is the reverse of easy; many more doubts arise about this than about our previous conclusions. for the practicability of what is said may be doubted; and looked at in another point of view, whether the scheme, if ever so practicable, would be for the best, is also doubtful. hence i feel a reluctance to approach { } the * d* subject, lest our aspiration, my dear friend, should turn out to be a dream only. fear not, he replied, for your audience will not be hard upon you; they are not sceptical or hostile. i said: my good friend, i suppose that you mean to encourage me by these words. yes, he said. [sidenote: a friendly audience is more dangerous than a hostile one.] then let me tell you that you are doing just the reverse; the encouragement which you offer would have been all very well had i myself believed that i knew what i was talking about: to declare the truth about matters of high * e* interest which a man honours and loves among wise men who love him need occasion no fear or faltering in his mind; but to carry on an argument when you are yourself only * a* a hesitating enquirer, which is my condition, is a dangerous and slippery thing; and the danger is not that i shall be laughed at (of which the fear would be childish), but that i shall miss the truth where i have most need to be sure of my footing, and drag my friends after me in my fall. and i pray nemesis not to visit upon me the words which i am going to utter. for i do indeed believe that to be an involuntary homicide is a less crime than to be a deceiver about beauty or goodness or justice in the matter of laws[ ]. and that is a risk which i would rather run among enemies than among friends, and therefore you do well to encourage * b* me[ ]. [footnote : or inserting [greek: kai\] before [greek: nomi/môn]: 'a deceiver about beauty or goodness or principles of justice or law.'] [footnote : reading [greek: ô(/ste eu)= me paramuthei=].] glaucon laughed and said: well then, socrates, in case you and your argument do us any serious injury you shall be acquitted beforehand of the homicide, and shall not be held to be a deceiver; take courage then and speak. well, i said, the law says that when a man is acquitted he is free from guilt, and what holds at law may hold in argument. then why should you mind? well, i replied, i suppose that i must retrace my steps * c* and say what i perhaps ought to have said before in the proper place. the part of the men has been played out, and now properly enough comes the turn of the women. of them i will proceed to speak, and the more readily since i am invited by you. { } for men born and educated like our citizens, the only way, in my opinion, of arriving at a right conclusion about the possession and use of women and children is to follow the path on which we originally started, when we said that the men were to be the guardians and watchdogs of the herd. true. * d* let us further suppose the birth and education of our women to be subject to similar or nearly similar regulations; then we shall see whether the result accords with our design. what do you mean? [sidenote: no distinction among the animals such as is made between men and women.] what i mean may be put into the form of a question, i said: are dogs divided into hes and shes, or do they both share equally in hunting and in keeping watch and in the other duties of dogs? or do we entrust to the males the entire and exclusive care of the flocks, while we leave the females at home, under the idea that the bearing and suckling their puppies is labour enough for them? * e* no, he said, they share alike; the only difference between them is that the males are stronger and the females weaker. but can you use different animals for the same purpose, unless they are bred and fed in the same way? you cannot. then, if women are to have the same duties as men, they * a* must have the same nurture and education? yes. the education which was assigned to the men was music and gymnastic. yes. [sidenote: women must be taught music, gymnastic, and military exercises equally with men.] then women must be taught music and gymnastic and also the art of war, which they must practise like the men? that is the inference, i suppose. i should rather expect, i said, that several of our proposals, if they are carried out, being unusual, may appear ridiculous. no doubt of it. yes, and the most ridiculous thing of all will be the sight of women naked in the palaestra, exercising with the men, * b* especially when they are no longer young; they certainly will not be a vision of beauty, any more than the enthusiastic { } old men who in spite of wrinkles and ugliness continue to frequent the gymnasia. yes, indeed, he said: according to present notions the proposal would be thought ridiculous. but then, i said, as we have determined to speak our minds, we must not fear the jests of the wits which will be directed against this sort of innovation; how they will talk of women's * c* attainments both in music and gymnastic, and above all about their wearing armour and riding upon horseback! very true, he replied. [sidenote: convention should not be permitted to stand in the way of a higher good.] yet having begun we must go forward to the rough places of the law; at the same time begging of these gentlemen for once in their life to be serious. not long ago, as we shall remind them, the hellenes were of the opinion, which is still generally received among the barbarians, that the sight of a naked man was ridiculous and improper; and when first the cretans and then the lacedaemonians introduced the * d* custom, the wits of that day might equally have ridiculed the innovation. no doubt. but when experience showed that to let all things be uncovered was far better than to cover them up, and the ludicrous effect to the outward eye vanished before the better principle which reason asserted, then the man was perceived to be a fool who directs the shafts of his ridicule at any other * e* sight but that of folly and vice, or seriously inclines to weigh the beautiful by any other standard but that of the good[ ]. [footnote : reading with paris a. [greek: kai\ kalou= ...]] very true, he replied. first, then, whether the question is to be put in jest or in * a* earnest, let us come to an understanding about the nature of woman: is she capable of sharing either wholly or partially in the actions of men, or not at all? and is the art of war one of those arts in which she can or can not share? that will be the best way of commencing the enquiry, and will probably lead to the fairest conclusion. that will be much the best way. shall we take the other side first and begin by arguing against ourselves; in this manner the adversary's position will not be undefended. { } * b* why not? he said. [sidenote: objection: we were saying that every one should do his own work: have not women and men severally a work of their own?] then let us put a speech into the mouths of our opponents. they will say: 'socrates and glaucon, no adversary need convict you, for you yourselves, at the first foundation of the state, admitted the principle that everybody was to do the one work suited to his own nature.' and certainly, if i am not mistaken, such an admission was made by us. 'and do not the natures of men and women differ very much indeed?' and we shall reply: of course they do. then we shall be asked, 'whether the tasks assigned to men and to women should not be different, and such as are agreeable to their * c* different natures?' certainly they should. 'but if so, have you not fallen into a serious inconsistency in saying that men and women, whose natures are so entirely different, ought to perform the same actions?'--what defence will you make for us, my good sir, against any one who offers these objections? that is not an easy question to answer when asked suddenly; and i shall and i do beg of you to draw out the case on our side. these are the objections, glaucon, and there are many * d* others of a like kind, which i foresaw long ago; they made me afraid and reluctant to take in hand any law about the possession and nurture of women and children. by zeus, he said, the problem to be solved is anything but easy. why yes, i said, but the fact is that when a man is out of his depth, whether he has fallen into a little swimming bath or into mid ocean, he has to swim all the same. very true. and must not we swim and try to reach the shore: we will hope that arion's dolphin or some other miraculous help may save us? * e* i suppose so, he said. well then, let us see if any way of escape can be found. we acknowledged--did we not? that different natures ought to have different pursuits, and that men's and women's natures are different. and now what are we saying?--that different natures ought to have the same pursuits,--this is the inconsistency which is charged upon us. { } precisely. * a* verily, glaucon, i said, glorious is the power of the art of contradiction! why do you say so? [sidenote: the seeming inconsistency arises out of a verbal opposition.] because i think that many a man falls into the practice against his will. when he thinks that he is reasoning he is really disputing, just because he cannot define and divide, and so know that of which he is speaking; and he will pursue a merely verbal opposition in the spirit of contention and not of fair discussion. yes, he replied, such is very often the case; but what has that to do with us and our argument? * b* a great deal; for there is certainly a danger of our getting unintentionally into a verbal opposition. in what way? [sidenote: when we assigned to different natures different pursuits, we meant only those differences of nature which affected the pursuits.] why we valiantly and pugnaciously insist upon the verbal truth, that different natures ought to have different pursuits, but we never considered at all what was the meaning of sameness or difference of nature, or why we distinguished them when we assigned different pursuits to different natures and the same to the same natures. why, no, he said, that was never considered by us. * c* i said: suppose that by way of illustration we were to ask the question whether there is not an opposition in nature between bald men and hairy men; and if this is admitted by us, then, if bald men are cobblers, we should forbid the hairy men to be cobblers, and conversely? that would be a jest, he said. yes, i said, a jest; and why? because we never meant when we constructed the state, that the opposition of natures should extend to every difference, but only to those * d* differences which affected the pursuit in which the individual is engaged; we should have argued, for example, that a physician and one who is in mind a physician[ ] may be said to have the same nature. [footnote : reading [greek: i)atro\n me\n kai\ i)atriko\n tê\n psuchê\n o)/nta].] true. whereas the physician and the carpenter have different natures? certainly. { } and if, i said, the male and female sex appear to differ in their fitness for any art or pursuit, we should say that such pursuit or art ought to be assigned to one or the other of them; but if the difference consists only in women bearing * e* and men begetting children, this does not amount to a proof that a woman differs from a man in respect of the sort of education she should receive; and we shall therefore continue to maintain that our guardians and their wives ought to have the same pursuits. very true, he said. next, we shall ask our opponent how, in reference to any * a* of the pursuits or arts of civic life, the nature of a woman differs from that of a man? that will be quite fair. and perhaps he, like yourself, will reply that to give a sufficient answer on the instant is not easy; but after a little reflection there is no difficulty. yes, perhaps. suppose then that we invite him to accompany us in the * b* argument, and then we may hope to show him that there is nothing peculiar in the constitution of women which would affect them in the administration of the state. by all means. [sidenote: the same natural gifts are found in both sexes, but they are possessed in a higher degree by men than women.] let us say to him: come now, and we will ask you a question:--when you spoke of a nature gifted or not gifted in any respect, did you mean to say that one man will acquire a thing easily, another with difficulty; a little learning will lead the one to discover a great deal; whereas the other, after much study and application, no sooner learns than he forgets; or again, did you mean, that the one has a body which is a good servant to his mind, while the body of the other is a hindrance to him?--would not these be the sort * c* of differences which distinguish the man gifted by nature from the one who is ungifted? no one will deny that. and can you mention any pursuit of mankind in which the male sex has not all these gifts and qualities in a higher degree than the female? need i waste time in speaking of the art of weaving, and the management of pancakes and preserves, in which womankind does really appear to be { } great, and in which for her to be beaten by a man is of all * d* things the most absurd? you are quite right, he replied, in maintaining the general inferiority of the female sex: although many women are in many things superior to many men, yet on the whole what you say is true. and if so, my friend, i said, there is no special faculty of administration in a state which a woman has because she is a woman, or which a man has by virtue of his sex, but the gifts of nature are alike diffused in both; all the pursuits of * e* men are the pursuits of women also, but in all of them a woman is inferior to a man. very true. [sidenote: men and women are to be governed by the same laws and to have the same pursuits.] then are we to impose all our enactments on men and none of them on women? that will never do. * a* one woman has a gift of healing, another not; one is a musician, and another has no music in her nature? very true. and one woman has a turn for gymnastic and military exercises, and another is unwarlike and hates gymnastics? certainly. and one woman is a philosopher, and another is an enemy of philosophy; one has spirit, and another is without spirit? that is also true. then one woman will have the temper of a guardian, and another not. was not the selection of the male guardians determined by differences of this sort? yes. men and women alike possess the qualities which make a guardian; they differ only in their comparative strength or weakness. obviously. * b* and those women who have such qualities are to be selected as the companions and colleagues of men who have similar qualities and whom they resemble in capacity and in character? very true. and ought not the same natures to have the same pursuits? they ought. then, as we were saying before, there is nothing unnatural { } in assigning music and gymnastic to the wives of the guardians--to that point we come round again. certainly not. the law which we then enacted was agreeable to nature, * c* and therefore not an impossibility or mere aspiration; and the contrary practice, which prevails at present, is in reality a violation of nature. that appears to be true. we had to consider, first, whether our proposals were possible, and secondly whether they were the most beneficial? yes. and the possibility has been acknowledged? yes. the very great benefit has next to be established? quite so. [sidenote: there are different degrees of goodness both in women and in men.] you will admit that the same education which makes a man a good guardian will make a woman a good guardian; for * d* their original nature is the same? yes. i should like to ask you a question. what is it? would you say that all men are equal in excellence, or is one man better than another? the latter. and in the commonwealth which we were founding do you conceive the guardians who have been brought up on our model system to be more perfect men, or the cobblers whose education has been cobbling? what a ridiculous question! you have answered me, i replied: well, and may we not * e* further say that our guardians are the best of our citizens? by far the best. and will not their wives be the best women? yes, by far the best. and can there be anything better for the interests of the state than that the men and women of a state should be as good as possible? there can be nothing better. * a* and this is what the arts of music and gymnastic, when present in such manner as we have described, will accomplish? { } certainly. then we have made an enactment not only possible but in the highest degree beneficial to the state? true. [sidenote: the noble saying.] then let the wives of our guardians strip, for their virtue will be their robe, and let them share in the toils of war and the defence of their country; only in the distribution of labours the lighter are to be assigned to the women, who are the weaker natures, but in other respects their duties are to be the same. * b* and as for the man who laughs at naked women exercising their bodies from the best of motives, in his laughter he is plucking 'a fruit of unripe wisdom,' and he himself is ignorant of what he is laughing at, or what he is about;--for that is, and ever will be, the best of sayings, _that the useful is the noble and the hurtful is the base._ very true. here, then, is one difficulty in our law about women, which we may say that we have now escaped; the wave has not swallowed us up alive for enacting that the guardians of either sex should have all their pursuits in common; to the utility * c* and also to the possibility of this arrangement the consistency of the argument with itself bears witness. yes, that was a mighty wave which you have escaped. [sidenote: the second and greater wave.] yes, i said, but a greater is coming; you will not think much of this when you see the next. go on; let me see. the law, i said, which is the sequel of this and of all that has preceded, is to the following effect,--'that the wives of * d* our guardians are to be common, and their children are to be common, and no parent is to know his own child, nor any child his parent.' yes, he said, that is a much greater wave than the other; and the possibility as well as the utility of such a law are far more questionable. i do not think, i said, that there can be any dispute about the very great utility of having wives and children in common; the possibility is quite another matter, and will be very much disputed. { } * e* i think that a good many doubts may be raised about both. [sidenote: the utility and possibility of a community of wives and children.] you imply that the two questions must be combined, i replied. now i meant that you should admit the utility; and in this way, as i thought, i should escape from one of them, and then there would remain only the possibility. but that little attempt is detected, and therefore you will please to give a defence of both. [sidenote: the utility to be considered first, the possibility afterwards.] well, i said, i submit to my fate. yet grant me a little * a* favour: let me feast my mind with the dream as day dreamers are in the habit of feasting themselves when they are walking alone; for before they have discovered any means of effecting their wishes--that is a matter which never troubles them--they would rather not tire themselves by thinking about possibilities; but assuming that what they desire is already granted to them, they proceed with their plan, and delight in detailing what they mean to do when their wish has come true--that is a way which they have of not doing much good * b* to a capacity which was never good for much. now i myself am beginning to lose heart, and i should like, with your permission, to pass over the question of possibility at present. assuming therefore the possibility of the proposal, i shall now proceed to enquire how the rulers will carry out these arrangements, and i shall demonstrate that our plan, if executed, will be of the greatest benefit to the state and to the guardians. first of all, then, if you have no objection, i will endeavour with your help to consider the advantages of the measure; and hereafter the question of possibility. i have no objection; proceed. first, i think that if our rulers and their auxiliaries are to * c* be worthy of the name which they bear, there must be willingness to obey in the one and the power of command in the other; the guardians must themselves obey the laws, and they must also imitate the spirit of them in any details which are entrusted to their care. that is right, he said. [sidenote: the legislator will select guardians male and female, who will meet at common meals and exercises, and will be drawn to one another by an irresistible necessity.] you, i said, who are their legislator, having selected the men, will now select the women and give them to them;--they must be as far as possible of like natures with them; and they must live in common houses and meet at common meals. none of them will have anything specially his or her own; { } * d* they will be together, and will be brought up together, and will associate at gymnastic exercises. and so they will be drawn by a necessity of their natures to have intercourse with each other--necessity is not too strong a word, i think? yes, he said;--necessity, not geometrical, but another sort of necessity which lovers know, and which is far more convincing and constraining to the mass of mankind. true, i said; and this, glaucon, like all the rest, must proceed after an orderly fashion; in a city of the blessed, * e* licentiousness is an unholy thing which the rulers will forbid. yes, he said, and it ought not to be permitted. then clearly the next thing will be to make matrimony sacred in the highest degree, and what is most beneficial will be deemed sacred? * a* exactly. [sidenote: the breeding of human beings, as of animals, to be from the best and from those who are of a ripe age.] and how can marriages be made most beneficial?--that is a question which i put to you, because i see in your house dogs for hunting, and of the nobler sort of birds not a few. now, i beseech you, do tell me, have you ever attended to their pairing and breeding? in what particulars? why, in the first place, although they are all of a good sort, are not some better than others? true. and do you breed from them all indifferently, or do you take care to breed from the best only? from the best. * b* and do you take the oldest or the youngest, or only those of ripe age? i choose only those of ripe age. and if care was not taken in the breeding, your dogs and birds would greatly deteriorate? certainly. and the same of horses and animals in general? undoubtedly. good heavens! my dear friend, i said, what consummate skill will our rulers need if the same principle holds of the human species! * c* certainly, the same principle holds; but why does this involve any particular skill? { } [sidenote: useful lies 'very honest knaveries.'] because, i said, our rulers will often have to practise upon the body corporate with medicines. now you know that when patients do not require medicines, but have only to be put under a regimen, the inferior sort of practitioner is deemed to be good enough; but when medicine has to be given, then the doctor should be more of a man. that is quite true, he said; but to what are you alluding? i mean, i replied, that our rulers will find a considerable dose of falsehood and deceit necessary for the good of their subjects: * d* we were saying that the use of all these things regarded as medicines might be of advantage. and we were very right. and this lawful use of them seems likely to be often needed in the regulations of marriages and births. how so? [sidenote: arrangements for the improvement of the breed;] why, i said, the principle has been already laid down that the best of either sex should be united with the best as often, and the inferior with the inferior, as seldom as possible; and that they should rear the offspring of the one sort of union, * e* but not of the other, if the flock is to be maintained in first-rate condition. now these goings on must be a secret which the rulers only know, or there will be a further danger of our herd, as the guardians may be termed, breaking out into rebellion. very true. [sidenote: and for the regulation of population.] had we not better appoint certain festivals at which we will bring together the brides and bridegrooms, and sacrifices * a* will be offered and suitable hymeneal songs composed by our poets: the number of weddings is a matter which must be left to the discretion of the rulers, whose aim will be to preserve the average of population? there are many other things which they will have to consider, such as the effects of wars and diseases and any similar agencies, in order as far as this is possible to prevent the state from becoming either too large or too small. certainly, he replied. [sidenote: pairing by lot.] we shall have to invent some ingenious kind of lots which the less worthy may draw on each occasion of our bringing them together, and then they will accuse their own ill-luck and not the rulers. { } to be sure, he said. [sidenote: the brave deserve the fair.] * b* and i think that our braver and better youth, besides their other honours and rewards, might have greater facilities of intercourse with women given them; their bravery will be a reason, and such fathers ought to have as many sons as possible. true. and the proper officers, whether male or female or both, for offices are to be held by women as well as by men-- yes-- [sidenote: what is to be done with the children?] * c* the proper officers will take the offspring of the good parents to the pen or fold, and there they will deposit them with certain nurses who dwell in a separate quarter; but the offspring of the inferior, or of the better when they chance to be deformed, will be put away in some mysterious, unknown place, as they should be. yes, he said, that must be done if the breed of the guardians is to be kept pure. they will provide for their nurture, and will bring the mothers to the fold when they are full of milk, taking the * d* greatest possible care that no mother recognises her own child; and other wet-nurses may be engaged if more are required. care will also be taken that the process of suckling shall not be protracted too long; and the mothers will have no getting up at night or other trouble, but will hand over all this sort of thing to the nurses and attendants. you suppose the wives of our guardians to have a fine easy time of it when they are having children. why, said i, and so they ought. let us, however, proceed with our scheme. we were saying that the parents should be in the prime of life? very true. * e* and what is the prime of life? may it not be defined as a period of about twenty years in a woman's life, and thirty in a man's? which years do you mean to include? [sidenote: a woman to bear children from twenty to forty; a man to beget them from twenty-five to fifty-five.] a woman, i said, at twenty years of age may begin to bear children to the state, and continue to bear them until forty; a man may begin at five-and-twenty, when he has passed the { } point at which the pulse of life beats quickest, and continue to beget children until he be fifty-five. * a* certainly, he said, both in men and women those years are the prime of physical as well as of intellectual vigour. any one above or below the prescribed ages who takes part in the public hymeneals shall be said to have done an unholy and unrighteous thing; the child of which he is the father, if it steals into life, will have been conceived under auspices very unlike the sacrifices and prayers, which at each hymeneal priestesses and priest and the whole city will offer, that the new generation may be better and more useful than their * b* good and useful parents, whereas his child will be the offspring of darkness and strange lust. very true, he replied. and the same law will apply to any one of those within the prescribed age who forms a connection with any woman in the prime of life without the sanction of the rulers; for we shall say that he is raising up a bastard to the state, uncertified and unconsecrated. very true, he replied. [sidenote: after the prescribed age has been passed, more licence is allowed: but all who were born after certain hymeneal festivals at which their parents or grandparents came together must be kept separate.] this applies, however, only to those who are within the specified age: after that we allow them to range at will, * c* except that a man may not marry his daughter or his daughter's daughter, or his mother or his mother's mother; and women, on the other hand, are prohibited from marrying their sons or fathers, or son's son or father's father, and so on in either direction. and we grant all this, accompanying the permission with strict orders to prevent any embryo which may come into being from seeing the light; and if any force a way to the birth, the parents must understand that the offspring of such an union cannot be maintained, and arrange accordingly. that also, he said, is a reasonable proposition. but how * d* will they know who are fathers and daughters, and so on? they will never know. the way will be this:--dating from the day of the hymeneal, the bridegroom who was then married will call all the male children who are born in the seventh and tenth month afterwards his sons, and the female children his daughters, and they will call him father, and he will call their children his grandchildren, and they { } will call the elder generation grandfathers and grandmothers. all who were begotten at the time when their fathers and mothers came together will be called their brothers and * e* sisters, and these, as i was saying, will be forbidden to inter-marry. this, however, is not to be understood as an absolute prohibition of the marriage of brothers and sisters; if the lot favours them, and they receive the sanction of the pythian oracle, the law will allow them. quite right, he replied. such is the scheme, glaucon, according to which the guardians of our state are to have their wives and families in common. and now you would have the argument show that this community is consistent with the rest of our polity, and also that nothing can be better--would you not? * a* yes, certainly. shall we try to find a common basis by asking of ourselves what ought to be the chief aim of the legislator in making laws and in the organization of a state,--what is the greatest good, and what is the greatest evil, and then consider whether our previous description has the stamp of the good or of the evil? by all means. [sidenote: the greatest good of states, unity; the greatest evil, discord. the one the result of public, the other of private feelings.] can there be any greater evil than discord and distraction * b* and plurality where unity ought to reign? or any greater good than the bond of unity? there cannot. and there is unity where there is community of pleasures and pains--where all the citizens are glad or grieved on the same occasions of joy and sorrow? no doubt. yes; and where there is no common but only private feeling a state is disorganized--when you have one half of the world triumphing and the other plunged in grief at * c* the same events happening to the city or the citizens? certainly. such differences commonly originate in a disagreement about the use of the terms 'mine' and 'not mine,' 'his' and 'not his.' exactly so. and is not that the best-ordered state in which the greatest { } number of persons apply the terms 'mine' and 'not mine' in the same way to the same thing? quite true. [sidenote: the state like a living being which feels altogether when hurt in any part.] or that again which most nearly approaches to the condition of the individual--as in the body, when but a finger of one of us is hurt, the whole frame, drawn towards the soul as a centre and forming one kingdom under the ruling power * d* therein, feels the hurt and sympathizes all together with the part affected, and we say that the man has a pain in his finger; and the same expression is used about any other part of the body, which has a sensation of pain at suffering or of pleasure at the alleviation of suffering. very true, he replied; and i agree with you that in the best-ordered state there is the nearest approach to this common feeling which you describe. then when any one of the citizens experiences any good * e* or evil, the whole state will make his case their own, and will either rejoice or sorrow with him? yes, he said, that is what will happen in a well-ordered state. [sidenote: how different are the terms which are applied to the rulers in other states and in our own!] it will now be time, i said, for us to return to our state and see whether this or some other form is most in accordance with these fundamental principles. very good. * a* our state like every other has rulers and subjects? true. all of whom will call one another citizens? of course. but is there not another name which people give to their rulers in other states? generally they call them masters, but in democratic states they simply call them rulers. and in our state what other name besides that of citizens do the people give the rulers? * b* they are called saviours and helpers, he replied. and what do the rulers call the people? their maintainers and foster-fathers. and what do they call them in other states? slaves. and what do the rulers call one another in other states? { } fellow-rulers. and what in ours? fellow-guardians. did you ever know an example in any other state of a ruler who would speak of one of his colleagues as his friend and of another as not being his friend? yes, very often. and the friend he regards and describes as one in whom * c* he has an interest, and the other as a stranger in whom he has no interest? exactly. but would any of your guardians think or speak of any other guardian as a stranger? certainly he would not; for every one whom they meet will be regarded by them either as a brother or sister, or father or mother, or son or daughter, or as the child or parent of those who are thus connected with him. [sidenote: the state one family.] capital, i said; but let me ask you once more: shall they * d* be a family in name only; or shall they in all their actions be true to the name? for example, in the use of the word 'father,' would the care of a father be implied and the filial reverence and duty and obedience to him which the law commands; and is the violator of these duties to be regarded as an impious and unrighteous person who is not likely to receive much good either at the hands of god or of man? are these to be or not to be the strains which the children will hear repeated in their ears by all the citizens about those who are intimated to them to be their parents and the rest of their kinsfolk? [sidenote: using the same terms, they will have the same modes of thinking and acting, and this is to be attributed mainly to the community of women and children.] * e* these, he said, and none other; for what can be more ridiculous than for them to utter the names of family ties with the lips only and not to act in the spirit of them? then in our city the language of harmony and concord will be more often heard than in any other. as i was describing before, when any one is well or ill, the universal word will be 'with me it is well' or 'it is ill.' * a* most true. and agreeably to this mode of thinking and speaking, were we not saying that they will have their pleasures and pains in common? { } yes, and so they will. and they will have a common interest in the same thing which they will alike call 'my own,' and having this common interest they will have a common feeling of pleasure and pain? yes, far more so than in other states. and the reason of this, over and above the general constitution of the state, will be that the guardians will have a community of women and children? that will be the chief reason. * b* and this unity of feeling we admitted to be the greatest good, as was implied in our own comparison of a well-ordered state to the relation of the body and the members, when affected by pleasure or pain? that we acknowledged, and very rightly. then the community of wives and children among our citizens is clearly the source of the greatest good to the state? certainly. and this agrees with the other principle which we were affirming,--that the guardians were not to have houses or * c* lands or any other property; their pay was to be their food, which they were to receive from the other citizens, and they were to have no private expenses; for we intended them to preserve their true character of guardians. right, he replied. [sidenote: there will be no private interests among them, and therefore no lawsuits or trials for assault or violence to elders.] both the community of property and the community of families, as i am saying, tend to make them more truly guardians; they will not tear the city in pieces by differing about 'mine' and 'not mine;' each man dragging any * d* acquisition which he has made into a separate house of his own, where he has a separate wife and children and private pleasures and pains; but all will be affected as far as may be by the same pleasures and pains because they are all of one opinion about what is near and dear to them, and therefore they all tend towards a common end. certainly, he replied. and as they have nothing but their persons which they can call their own, suits and complaints will have no existence * e* among them; they will be delivered from all those quarrels of which money or children or relations are the occasion. { } of course they will. neither will trials for assault or insult ever be likely to occur among them. for that equals should defend themselves against equals we shall maintain to be honourable and right; * a* we shall make the protection of the person a matter of necessity. that is good, he said. yes; and there is a further good in the law; viz. that if a man has a quarrel with another he will satisfy his resentment then and there, and not proceed to more dangerous lengths. certainly. to the elder shall be assigned the duty of ruling and chastising the younger. clearly. nor can there be a doubt that the younger will not strike or do any other violence to an elder, unless the magistrates command him; nor will he slight him in any way. for there are two guardians, shame and fear, mighty to prevent him: shame, which makes men refrain from laying hands on * b* those who are to them in the relation of parents; fear, that the injured one will be succoured by the others who are his brothers, sons, fathers. that is true, he replied. then in every way the laws will help the citizens to keep the peace with one another? yes, there will be no want of peace. [sidenote: from how many other evils will our citizens be delivered!] and as the guardians will never quarrel among themselves there will be no danger of the rest of the city being divided either against them or against one another. none whatever. i hardly like even to mention the little meannesses of * c* which they will be rid, for they are beneath notice: such, for example, as the flattery of the rich by the poor, and all the pains and pangs which men experience in bringing up a family, and in finding money to buy necessaries for their household, borrowing and then repudiating, getting how they can, and giving the money into the hands of women and slaves to keep--the many evils of so many kinds which people suffer in this way are mean enough and obvious enough, and not worth speaking of. { } * d* yes, he said, a man has no need of eyes in order to perceive that. and from all these evils they will be delivered, and their life will be blessed as the life of olympic victors and yet more blessed. how so? the olympic victor, i said, is deemed happy in receiving a part only of the blessedness which is secured to our citizens, who have won a more glorious victory and have a more complete maintenance at the public cost. for the victory which they have won is the salvation of the whole state; and the crown with which they and their children are crowned is the fulness of all that life needs; they receive * e* rewards from the hands of their country while living, and after death have an honourable burial. yes, he said, and glorious rewards they are. [sidenote: answer to the charge of adeimantus that we made our citizens unhappy for their own good.] do you remember, i said, how in the course of the previous * a* discussion[ ] some one who shall be nameless accused us of making our guardians unhappy--they had nothing and might have possessed all things--to whom we replied that, if an occasion offered, we might perhaps hereafter consider this question, but that, as at present advised, we would make our guardians truly guardians, and that we were fashioning the state with a view to the greatest happiness, not of any particular class, but of the whole? [footnote : pages , ff.] yes, i remember. [sidenote: their life not to be compared with that of citizens in ordinary states.] and what do you say, now that the life of our protectors is made out to be far better and nobler than that of olympic * b* victors--is the life of shoemakers, or any other artisans, or of husbandmen, to be compared with it? certainly not. [sidenote: he who seeks to be more than a guardian is naught.] at the same time i ought here to repeat what i have said elsewhere, that if any of our guardians shall try to be happy in such a manner that he will cease to be a guardian, and is not content with this safe and harmonious life, which, in our judgment, is of all lives the best, but infatuated by some youthful conceit of happiness which gets up into his head * c* shall seek to appropriate the whole state to himself, then he { } will have to learn how wisely hesiod spoke, when he said, 'half is more than the whole.' if he were to consult me, i should say to him: stay where you are, when you have the offer of such a life. [sidenote: the common way of life includes common education, common children, common services and duties of men and women.] you agree then, i said, that men and women are to have a common way of life such as we have described--common education, common children; and they are to watch over the citizens in common whether abiding in the city or going out to war; they are to keep watch together, and to hunt * d* together like dogs; and always and in all things, as far as they are able, women are to share with the men? and in so doing they will do what is best, and will not violate, but preserve the natural relation of the sexes. i agree with you, he replied. the enquiry, i said, has yet to be made, whether such a community be found possible--as among other animals, so also among men--and if possible, in what way possible? you have anticipated the question which i was about to suggest. * e* there is no difficulty, i said, in seeing how war will be carried on by them. how? [sidenote: the children to accompany their parents on military expeditions;] why, of course they will go on expeditions together; and will take with them any of their children who are strong enough, that, after the manner of the artisan's child, they may look on at the work which they will have to do when they are grown up; * a* and besides looking on they will have to help and be of use in war, and to wait upon their fathers and mothers. did you never observe in the arts how the potters' boys look on and help, long before they touch the wheel? yes, i have. and shall potters be more careful in educating their children and in giving them the opportunity of seeing and practising their duties than our guardians will be? the idea is ridiculous, he said. there is also the effect on the parents, with whom, as with * b* other animals, the presence of their young ones will be the greatest incentive to valour. that is quite true, socrates; and yet if they are defeated, which may often happen in war, how great the danger is! { } the children will be lost as well as their parents, and the state will never recover. true, i said; but would you never allow them to run any risk? i am far from saying that. well, but if they are ever to run a risk should they not do so on some occasion when, if they escape disaster, they will be the better for it? clearly. [sidenote: but care must be taken that they do not run any serious risk.] * c* whether the future soldiers do or do not see war in the days of their youth is a very important matter, for the sake of which some risk may fairly be incurred. yes, very important. this then must be our first step,--to make our children spectators of war; but we must also contrive that they shall be secured against danger; then all will be well. true. their parents may be supposed not to be blind to the risks of war, but to know, as far as human foresight can, what * d* expeditions are safe and what dangerous? that may be assumed. and they will take them on the safe expeditions and be cautious about the dangerous ones? true. and they will place them under the command of experienced veterans who will be their leaders and teachers? very properly. still, the dangers of war cannot be always foreseen; there is a good deal of chance about them? true. then against such chances the children must be at once furnished with wings, in order that in the hour of need they may fly away and escape. * e* what do you mean? he said. i mean that we must mount them on horses in their earliest youth, and when they have learnt to ride, take them on horseback to see war: the horses must not be spirited and warlike, but the most tractable and yet the swiftest that can be had. in this way they will get an excellent view of what is * a* hereafter to be their own business; and if there is danger they have only to follow their elder leaders and escape. { } i believe that you are right, he said. [sidenote: the coward is to be degraded into a lower rank.] next, as to war; what are to be the relations of your soldiers to one another and to their enemies? i should be inclined to propose that the soldier who leaves his rank or throws away his arms, or is guilty of any other act of cowardice, should be degraded into the rank of a husbandman or artisan. what do you think? by all means, i should say. and he who allows himself to be taken prisoner may as well be made a present of to his enemies; he is their lawful prey, and let them do what they like with him. * b* certainly. [sidenote: the hero to receive honour from his comrades and favour from his beloved,] but the hero who has distinguished himself, what shall be done to him? in the first place, he shall receive honour in the army from his youthful comrades; every one of them in succession shall crown him. what do you say? i approve. and what do you say to his receiving the right hand of fellowship? to that too, i agree. but you will hardly agree to my next proposal. what is your proposal? that he should kiss and be kissed by them. most certainly, and i should be disposed to go further, and say: * c* let no one whom he has a mind to kiss refuse to be kissed by him while the expedition lasts. so that if there be a lover in the army, whether his love be youth or maiden, he may be more eager to win the prize of valour. capital, i said. that the brave man is to have more wives than others has been already determined: and he is to have first choices in such matters more than others, in order that he may have as many children as possible? agreed. [sidenote: and to have precedence, and a larger share of meats and drinks;] again, there is another manner in which, according to * d* homer, brave youths should be honoured; for he tells how ajax[ ], after he had distinguished himself in battle, was rewarded with long chines, which seems to be a compliment appropriate to a hero in the flower of his age, being not only a tribute of honour but also a very strengthening thing. [footnote : iliad, vii. .] { } most true, he said. then in this, i said, homer shall be our teacher; and we too, at sacrifices and on the like occasions, will honour the brave according to the measure of their valour, whether men or women, with hymns and those other distinctions which we were mentioning; also with * e* 'seats of precedence, and meats and full cups[ ];' and in honouring them, we shall be at the same time training them. [footnote : iliad, viii. .] that, he replied, is excellent. yes, i said; and when a man dies gloriously in war shall we not say, in the first place, that he is of the golden race? to be sure. [sidenote: also to be worshipped after death.] nay, have we not the authority of hesiod for affirming that when they are dead * a* 'they are holy angels upon the earth, authors of good, averters of evil, the guardians of speech-gifted men'?[ ] [footnote : probably works and days, foll.] yes; and we accept his authority. we must learn of the god how we are to order the sepulture of divine and heroic personages, and what is to be their special distinction; and we must do as he bids? by all means. and in ages to come we will reverence them and kneel * b* before their sepulchres as at the graves of heroes. and not only they but any who are deemed pre-eminently good, whether they die from age, or in any other way, shall be admitted to the same honours. that is very right, he said. [sidenote: behaviour to enemies.] next, how shall our soldiers treat their enemies? what about this? in what respect do you mean? first of all, in regard to slavery? do you think it right that hellenes should enslave hellenic states, or allow others to enslave them, if they can help? should not their custom be to spare them, considering the danger which there is * c* that the whole race may one day fall under the yoke of the barbarians? to spare them is infinitely better. { } [sidenote: no hellene shall be made a slave.] then no hellene should be owned by them as a slave; that is a rule which they will observe and advise the other hellenes to observe. certainly, he said; they will in this way be united against the barbarians and will keep their hands off one another. next as to the slain; ought the conquerors, i said, to take anything but their armour? does not the practice of * d* despoiling an enemy afford an excuse for not facing the battle? cowards skulk about the dead, pretending that they are fulfilling a duty, and many an army before now has been lost from this love of plunder. very true. [sidenote: those who fall in battle are not to be despoiled.] and is there not illiberality and avarice in robbing a corpse, and also a degree of meanness and womanishness in making an enemy of the dead body when the real enemy has flown away and left only his fighting gear behind him,--is not this * e* rather like a dog who cannot get at his assailant, quarrelling with the stones which strike him instead? very like a dog, he said. then we must abstain from spoiling the dead or hindering their burial? yes, he replied, we most certainly must. [sidenote: the arms of hellenes are not to be offered at temples;] neither shall we offer up arms at the temples of the gods, * a* least of all the arms of hellenes, if we care to maintain good feeling with other hellenes; and, indeed, we have reason to fear that the offering of spoils taken from kinsmen may be a pollution unless commanded by the god himself? very true. again, as to the devastation of hellenic territory or the burning of houses, what is to be the practice? may i have the pleasure, he said, of hearing your opinion? both should be forbidden, in my judgment; i would take * b* the annual produce and no more. shall i tell you why? pray do. [sidenote: nor hellenic territory devastated.] why, you see, there is a difference in the names 'discord' and 'war,' and i imagine that there is also a difference in their natures; the one is expressive of what is internal and domestic, the other of what is external and foreign; and the first of the two is termed discord, and only the second, war. { } that is a very proper distinction, he replied. * c* and may i not observe with equal propriety that the hellenic race is all united together by ties of blood and friendship, and alien and strange to the barbarians? very good, he said. [sidenote: hellenic warfare is only a kind of discord not intended to be lasting.] and therefore when hellenes fight with barbarians and barbarians with hellenes, they will be described by us as being at war when they fight, and by nature enemies, and this kind of antagonism should be called war; but when hellenes fight with one another we shall say that hellas is then in a state of disorder and discord, they being by nature friends; * d* and such enmity is to be called discord. i agree. consider then, i said, when that which we have acknowledged to be discord occurs, and a city is divided, if both parties destroy the lands and burn the houses of one another, how wicked does the strife appear! no true lover of his country would bring himself to tear in pieces his own nurse and mother: there might be reason in the conqueror depriving the conquered of their harvest, but still they would * e* have the idea of peace in their hearts and would not mean to go on fighting for ever. yes, he said, that is a better temper than the other. and will not the city, which you are founding, be an hellenic city? it ought to be, he replied. then will not the citizens be good and civilized? yes, very civilized. [sidenote: the lover of his own city will also be a lover of hellas.] and will they not be lovers of hellas, and think of hellas as their own land, and share in the common temples? most certainly. and any difference which arises among them will be * a* regarded by them as discord only--a quarrel among friends, which is not to be called a war? certainly not. then they will quarrel as those who intend some day to be reconciled? certainly. they will use friendly correction, but will not enslave or destroy their opponents; they will be correctors, not enemies? { } just so. [sidenote: hellenes should deal mildly with hellenes; and with barbarians as hellenes now deal with one another.] and as they are hellenes themselves they will not devastate hellas, nor will they burn houses, nor ever suppose that the whole population of a city--men, women, and children--are equally their enemies, for they know that the guilt of war is always confined to a few persons and that the many are their friends. * b* and for all these reasons they will be unwilling to waste their lands and rase their houses; their enmity to them will only last until the many innocent sufferers have compelled the guilty few to give satisfaction? i agree, he said, that our citizens should thus deal with their hellenic enemies; and with barbarians as the hellenes now deal with one another. then let us enact this law also for our guardians:--that they are neither to devastate the lands of hellenes nor to * c* burn their houses. agreed; and we may agree also in thinking that these, like all our previous enactments, are very good. [sidenote: the complaint of glaucon respecting the hesitation of socrates.] but still i must say, socrates, that if you are allowed to go on in this way you will entirely forget the other question which at the commencement of this discussion you thrust aside:--is such an order of things possible, and how, if at all? for i am quite ready to acknowledge that the plan which you propose, if only feasible, would do all sorts of good to the state. i will add, what you have omitted, that your * d* citizens will be the bravest of warriors, and will never leave their ranks, for they will all know one another, and each will call the other father, brother, son; and if you suppose the women to join their armies, whether in the same rank or in the rear, either as a terror to the enemy, or as auxiliaries in case of need, i know that they will then be absolutely invincible; and there are many domestic advantages which might also be mentioned and which i also fully acknowledge: * e* but, as i admit all these advantages and as many more as you please, if only this state of yours were to come into existence, we need say no more about them; assuming then the existence of the state, let us now turn to the question of possibility and ways and means--the rest may be left. { } [sidenote: socrates excuses himself and makes one or two remarks preparatory to a final effort.] * a* if i loiter[ ] for a moment, you instantly make a raid upon me, i said, and have no mercy; i have hardly escaped the first and second waves, and you seem not to be aware that you are now bringing upon me the third, which is the greatest and heaviest. when you have seen and heard the third wave, i think you will be more considerate and will acknowledge that some fear and hesitation was natural respecting a proposal so extraordinary as that which i have now to state and investigate. [footnote : reading [greek: straggeuome/nô|].] the more appeals of this sort which you make, he said, the * b* more determined are we that you shall tell us how such a state is possible: speak out and at once. let me begin by reminding you that we found our way hither in the search after justice and injustice. true, he replied; but what of that? i was only going to ask whether, if we have discovered them, we are to require that the just man should in nothing fail of absolute justice; or may we be satisfied with an approximation, * c* and the attainment in him of a higher degree of justice than is to be found in other men? the approximation will be enough. [sidenote: ( ) the ideal is a standard only which can never be perfectly realized;] we were enquiring into the nature of absolute justice and into the character of the perfectly just, and into injustice and the perfectly unjust, that we might have an ideal. we were to look at these in order that we might judge of our own happiness and unhappiness according to the standard * d* which they exhibited and the degree in which we resembled them, but not with any view of showing that they could exist in fact. true, he said. would a painter be any the worse because, after having delineated with consummate art an ideal of a perfectly beautiful man, he was unable to show that any such man could ever have existed? he would be none the worse. * e* well, and were we not creating an ideal of a perfect state? to be sure. [sidenote: ( ) but is none the worse for this.] and is our theory a worse theory because we are unable to { } prove the possibility of a city being ordered in the manner described? surely not, he replied. that is the truth, i said. but if, at your request, i am to try and show how and under what conditions the possibility is highest, i must ask you, having this in view, to repeat your former admissions. what admissions? * a* i want to know whether ideals are ever fully realized in language? does not the word express more than the fact, and must not the actual, whatever a man may think, always, in the nature of things, fall short of the truth? what do you say? i agree. then you must not insist on my proving that the actual state will in every respect coincide with the ideal: if we are only able to discover how a city may be governed nearly as we proposed, you will admit that we have discovered the possibility which you demand; and will be contented. * b* i am sure that i should be contented--will not you? yes, i will. [sidenote: ( ) although the ideal cannot be realized, one or two changes, or rather a single change, might revolutionize a state.] let me next endeavour to show what is that fault in states which is the cause of their present maladministration, and what is the least change which will enable a state to pass into the truer form; and let the change, if possible, be of one thing only, or, if not, of two; at any rate, let the changes be as few and slight as possible. * c* certainly, he replied. i think, i said, that there might be a reform of the state if only one change were made, which is not a slight or easy though still a possible one. what is it? he said. [sidenote: socrates goes forth to meet the wave.] now then, i said, i go to meet that which i liken to the greatest of the waves; yet shall the word be spoken, even though the wave break and drown me in laughter and dishonour; and do you mark my words. proceed. [sidenote: 'cities will never cease from ill until they are governed by philosophers.'] i said: _until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and * d* political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those { } commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest from their evils,--nor the human race, as i believe,--and then only will this * e* our state have a possibility of life and behold the light of day._ such was the thought, my dear glaucon, which i would fain have uttered if it had not seemed too extravagant; for to be convinced that in no other state can there be happiness private or public is indeed a hard thing. [sidenote: what will the world say to this?] socrates, what do you mean? i would have you consider that the word which you have uttered is one at which numerous persons, and very respectable persons too, in * a* a figure pulling off their coats all in a moment, and seizing any weapon that comes to hand, will run at you might and main, before you know where you are, intending to do heaven knows what; and if you don't prepare an answer, and put yourself in motion, you will be 'pared by their fine wits,' and no mistake. you got me into the scrape, i said. and i was quite right; however, i will do all i can to get you out of it; but i can only give you good-will and good advice, and, perhaps, i may be able to fit answers to your questions better than another--that is all. and now, having * b* such an auxiliary, you must do your best to show the unbelievers that you are right. [sidenote: but who is a philosopher?] i ought to try, i said, since you offer me such invaluable assistance. and i think that, if there is to be a chance of our escaping, we must explain to them whom we mean when we say that philosophers are to rule in the state; then we shall be able to defend ourselves: there will be discovered to be some natures who ought to study philosophy and to be * c* leaders in the state; and others who are not born to be philosophers, and are meant to be followers rather than leaders. then now for a definition, he said. follow me, i said, and i hope that i may in some way or other be able to give you a satisfactory explanation. proceed. [sidenote: parallel of the lover.] i dare say that you remember, and therefore i need not remind you, that a lover, if he is worthy of the name, ought to show his love, not to some one part of that which he loves, but to the whole. { } * d* i really do not understand, and therefore beg of you to assist my memory. [sidenote: the lover of the fair loves them all;] another person, i said, might fairly reply as you do; but a man of pleasure like yourself ought to know that all who are in the flower of youth do somehow or other raise a pang or emotion in a lover's breast, and are thought by him to be worthy of his affectionate regards. is not this a way which you have with the fair: one has a snub nose, and you praise his charming face; the hook-nose of another has, you say, a royal look; while he who is neither snub nor hooked has * e* the grace of regularity: the dark visage is manly, the fair are children of the gods; and as to the sweet 'honey pale,' as they are called, what is the very name but the invention of a lover who talks in diminutives, and is not averse to paleness if appearing on the cheek of youth? in a word, there is no * a* excuse which you will not make, and nothing which you will not say, in order not to lose a single flower that blooms in the spring-time of youth. if you make me an authority in matters of love, for the sake of the argument, i assent. [sidenote: the lover of wines all wines;] and what do you say of lovers of wine? do you not see them doing the same? they are glad of any pretext of drinking any wine. very good. [sidenote: the lover of honour all honour;] and the same is true of ambitious men; if they cannot command an army, they are willing to command a file; and * b* if they cannot be honoured by really great and important persons, they are glad to be honoured by lesser and meaner people,--but honour of some kind they must have. exactly. once more let me ask: does he who desires any class of goods, desire the whole class or a part only? the whole. [sidenote: the philosopher, or lover of wisdom, all knowledge.] and may we not say of the philosopher that he is a lover, not of a part of wisdom only, but of the whole? yes, of the whole. and he who dislikes learning, especially in youth, when * c* he has no power of judging what is good and what is not, such an one we maintain not to be a philosopher or a lover of knowledge, just as he who refuses his food is not hungry, { } and may be said to have a bad appetite and not a good one? very true, he said. whereas he who has a taste for every sort of knowledge and who is curious to learn and is never satisfied, may be justly termed a philosopher? am i not right? [sidenote: under knowledge, however, are not to be included sights and sounds, or under the lovers of knowledge, musical amateurs and the like.] * d* glaucon said: if curiosity makes a philosopher, you will find many a strange being will have a title to the name. all the lovers of sights have a delight in learning, and must therefore be included. musical amateurs, too, are a folk strangely out of place among philosophers, for they are the last persons in the world who would come to anything like a philosophical discussion, if they could help, while they run about at the dionysiac festivals as if they had let out their ears to hear every chorus; whether the performance is in town or country--that makes no difference--they are there. now are we * e* to maintain that all these and any who have similar tastes, as well as the professors of quite minor arts, are philosophers? certainly not, i replied; they are only an imitation. he said: who then are the true philosophers? those, i said, who are lovers of the vision of truth. that is also good, he said; but i should like to know what you mean? to another, i replied, i might have a difficulty in explaining; but i am sure that you will admit a proposition which i am about to make. what is the proposition? that since beauty is the opposite of ugliness, they are two? certainly. * a* and inasmuch as they are two, each of them is one? true again. and of just and unjust, good and evil, and of every other class, the same remark holds: taken singly, each of them is one; but from the various combinations of them with actions and things and with one another, they are seen in all sorts of lights and appear many? very true. and this is the distinction which i draw between the sight- { } loving, art-loving, practical class and those of whom i am speaking, * b* and who are alone worthy of the name of philosophers. how do you distinguish them? he said. the lovers of sounds and sights, i replied, are, as i conceive, fond of fine tones and colours and forms and all the artificial products that are made out of them, but their mind is incapable of seeing or loving absolute beauty. true, he replied. few are they who are able to attain to the sight of this. * c* very true. and he who, having a sense of beautiful things has no sense of absolute beauty, or who, if another lead him to a knowledge of that beauty is unable to follow--of such an one i ask, is he awake or in a dream only? reflect: is not the dreamer, sleeping or waking, one who likens dissimilar things, who puts the copy in the place of the real object? i should certainly say that such an one was dreaming. [sidenote: true knowledge is the ability to distinguish between the one and many, between the idea and the objects which partake of the idea.] but take the case of the other, who recognises the existence * d* of absolute beauty and is able to distinguish the idea from the objects which participate in the idea, neither putting the objects in the place of the idea nor the idea in the place of the objects--is he a dreamer, or is he awake? he is wide awake. and may we not say that the mind of the one who knows has knowledge, and that the mind of the other, who opines only, has opinion? certainly. but suppose that the latter should quarrel with us and dispute our statement, can we administer any soothing * e* cordial or advice to him, without revealing to him that there is sad disorder in his wits? we must certainly offer him some good advice, he replied. come, then, and let us think of something to say to him. shall we begin by assuring him that he is welcome to any knowledge which he may have, and that we are rejoiced at his having it? but we should like to ask him a question: does he who has knowledge know something or nothing? (you must answer for him.) i answer that he knows something. { } something that is or is not? something that is; for how can that which is not ever be known? [sidenote: there is an intermediate between being and not being, and a corresponding intermediate between ignorance and knowledge. this intermediate is a faculty termed opinion.] * a* and are we assured, after looking at the matter from many points of view, that absolute being is or may be absolutely known, but that the utterly non-existent is utterly unknown? nothing can be more certain. good. but if there be anything which is of such a nature as to be and not to be, that will have a place intermediate between pure being and the absolute negation of being? yes, between them. and, as knowledge corresponded to being and ignorance of necessity to not-being, for that intermediate between being and not-being there has to be discovered a corresponding * b* intermediate between ignorance and knowledge, if there be such? certainly. do we admit the existence of opinion? undoubtedly. as being the same with knowledge, or another faculty? another faculty. then opinion and knowledge have to do with different kinds of matter corresponding to this difference of faculties? yes. and knowledge is relative to being and knows being. but before i proceed further i will make a division. what division? * c* i will begin by placing faculties in a class by themselves: they are powers in us, and in all other things, by which we do as we do. sight and hearing, for example, i should call faculties. have i clearly explained the class which i mean? yes, i quite understand. then let me tell you my view about them. i do not see them, and therefore the distinctions of figure, colour, and the like, which enable me to discern the differences of some things, do not apply to them. in speaking of a faculty i think * d* only of its sphere and its result; and that which has the same sphere and the same result i call the same faculty, but that which has another sphere and another result i call different. would that be your way of speaking? { } yes. and will you be so very good as to answer one more question? would you say that knowledge is a faculty, or in what class would you place it? certainly knowledge is a faculty, and the mightiest of all faculties. * e* and is opinion also a faculty? certainly, he said; for opinion is that with which we are able to form an opinion. and yet you were acknowledging a little while ago that knowledge is not the same as opinion? [sidenote: opinion differs from knowledge because the one errs and the other is unerring.] why, yes, he said: how can any reasonable being ever identify that which is infallible with that which errs? * a* an excellent answer, proving, i said, that we are quite conscious of a distinction between them. yes. then knowledge and opinion having distinct powers have also distinct spheres or subject-matters? that is certain. being is the sphere or subject-matter of knowledge, and knowledge is to know the nature of being? yes. and opinion is to have an opinion? yes. and do we know what we opine? or is the subject-matter of opinion the same as the subject-matter of knowledge? nay, he replied, that has been already disproven; if difference in faculty implies difference in the sphere or * b* subject-matter, and if, as we were saying, opinion and knowledge are distinct faculties, then the sphere of knowledge and of opinion cannot be the same. then if being is the subject-matter of knowledge, something else must be the subject-matter of opinion? yes, something else. [sidenote: it also differs from ignorance, which is concerned with nothing.] well then, is not-being the subject-matter of opinion? or, rather, how can there be an opinion at all about not-being? reflect: when a man has an opinion, has he not an opinion about something? can he have an opinion which is an opinion about nothing? impossible. { } he who has an opinion has an opinion about some one thing? yes. and not-being is not one thing but, properly speaking, * c* nothing? true. of not-being, ignorance was assumed to be the necessary correlative; of being, knowledge? true, he said. then opinion is not concerned either with being or with not-being? not with either. and can therefore neither be ignorance nor knowledge? that seems to be true. [sidenote: its place is not to be sought without or beyond knowledge or ignorance, but between them.] but is opinion to be sought without and beyond either of them, in a greater clearness than knowledge, or in a greater darkness than ignorance? in neither. then i suppose that opinion appears to you to be darker than knowledge, but lighter than ignorance? both; and in no small degree. * d* and also to be within and between them? yes. then you would infer that opinion is intermediate? no question. but were we not saying before, that if anything appeared to be of a sort which is and is not at the same time, that sort of thing would appear also to lie in the interval between pure being and absolute not-being; and that the corresponding faculty is neither knowledge nor ignorance, but will be found in the interval between them? true. and in that interval there has now been discovered something which we call opinion? there has. * e* then what remains to be discovered is the object which partakes equally of the nature of being and not-being, and cannot rightly be termed either, pure and simple; this unknown term, when discovered, we may truly call the subject of opinion, and assign each to their proper faculty,-- { } the extremes to the faculties of the extremes and the mean to the faculty of the mean. true. [sidenote: the absoluteness of the one and the relativeness of the many.] * a* this being premised, i would ask the gentleman who is of opinion that there is no absolute or unchangeable idea of beauty--in whose opinion the beautiful is the manifold--he, i say, your lover of beautiful sights, who cannot bear to be told that the beautiful is one, and the just is one, or that anything is one--to him i would appeal, saying, will you be so very kind, sir, as to tell us whether, of all these beautiful things, there is one which will not be found ugly; or of the just, which will not be found unjust; or of the holy, which will not also be unholy? * b* no, he replied; the beautiful will in some point of view be found ugly; and the same is true of the rest. and may not the many which are doubles be also halves?--doubles, that is, of one thing, and halves of another? quite true. and things great and small, heavy and light, as they are termed, will not be denoted by these any more than by the opposite names? true; both these and the opposite names will always attach to all of them. and can any one of those many things which are called by particular names be said to be this rather than not to be this? he replied: they are like the punning riddles which are * c* asked at feasts or the children's puzzle about the eunuch aiming at the bat, with what he hit him, as they say in the puzzle, and upon what the bat was sitting. the individual objects of which i am speaking are also a riddle, and have a double sense: nor can you fix them in your mind, either as being or not-being, or both, or neither. then what will you do with them? i said. can they have a better place than between being and not-being? for they are clearly not in greater darkness or negation than not-being, * d* or more full of light and existence than being. that is quite true, he said. thus then we seem to have discovered that the many ideas which the multitude entertain about the beautiful and about { } all other things are tossing about in some region which is half-way between pure being and pure not-being? we have. yes; and we had before agreed that anything of this kind which we might find was to be described as matter of opinion, and not as matter of knowledge; being the intermediate flux which is caught and detained by the intermediate faculty. quite true. [sidenote: opinion is the knowledge, not of the absolute, but of the many.] * e* then those who see the many beautiful, and who yet neither see absolute beauty, nor can follow any guide who points the way thither; who see the many just, and not absolute justice, and the like,--such persons may be said to have opinion but not knowledge? that is certain. but those who see the absolute and eternal and immutable may be said to know, and not to have opinion only? neither can that be denied. the one love and embrace the subjects of knowledge, the other those of opinion? the latter are the same, as i dare say * a* you will remember, who listened to sweet sounds and gazed upon fair colours, but would not tolerate the existence of absolute beauty. yes, i remember. shall we then be guilty of any impropriety in calling them lovers of opinion rather than lovers of wisdom, and will they be very angry with us for thus describing them? i shall tell them not to be angry; no man should be angry at what is true. but those who love the truth in each thing are to be called lovers of wisdom and not lovers of opinion. assuredly. book vi. [sidenote: _republic vi._ socrates, glaucon.] * a* and thus, glaucon, after the argument has gone a weary way, the true and the false philosophers have at length appeared in view. i do not think, he said, that the way could have been shortened. [sidenote: if we had time, we might have a nearer view of the true and false philosopher.] i suppose not, i said; and yet i believe that we might have had a better view of both of them if the discussion could have been confined to this one subject and if there were not many other questions awaiting us, which he who desires to see in what respect the life of the just differs from * b* that of the unjust must consider. and what is the next question? he asked. surely, i said, the one which follows next in order. inasmuch as philosophers only are able to grasp the eternal and unchangeable, and those who wander in the region of the many and variable are not philosophers, i must ask you which of the two classes should be the rulers of our state? and how can we rightly answer that question? [sidenote: which of them shall be our guardians?] whichever of the two are best able to guard the laws and * c* institutions of our state--let them be our guardians. very good. [sidenote: a question hardly to be asked.] neither, i said, can there be any question that the guardian who is to keep anything should have eyes rather than no eyes? there can be no question of that. and are not those who are verily and indeed wanting in the knowledge of the true being of each thing, and who have in their souls no clear pattern, and are unable as with a painter's eye to look at the absolute truth and to that original * d* to repair, and having perfect vision of the other world to order the laws about beauty, goodness, justice in this, if not { } already ordered, and to guard and preserve the order of them--are not such persons, i ask, simply blind? truly, he replied, they are much in that condition. and shall they be our guardians when there are others who, besides being their equals in experience and falling short of them in no particular of virtue, also know the very truth of each thing? there can be no reason, he said, for rejecting those who have this greatest of all great qualities; they must always have the first place unless they fail in some other respect. * a* suppose then, i said, that we determine how far they can unite this and the other excellences. by all means. [sidenote: the philosopher is a lover of truth and of all true being.] in the first place, as we began by observing, the nature of the philosopher has to be ascertained. we must come to an understanding about him, and, when we have done so, then, if i am not mistaken, we shall also acknowledge that such an union of qualities is possible, and that those in whom they are united, and those only, should be rulers in the state. what do you mean? let us suppose that philosophical minds always love knowledge * b* of a sort which shows them the eternal nature not varying from generation and corruption. agreed. and further, i said, let us agree that they are lovers of all true being; there is no part whether greater or less, or more or less honourable, which they are willing to renounce; as we said before of the lover and the man of ambition. true. and if they are to be what we were describing, is there * c* not another quality which they should also possess? what quality? truthfulness: they will never intentionally receive into their mind falsehood, which is their detestation, and they will love the truth. yes, that may be safely affirmed of them. 'may be,' my friend, i replied, is not the word; say rather 'must be affirmed:' for he whose nature is amorous of anything cannot help loving all that belongs or is akin to the object of his affections. { } right, he said. and is there anything more akin to wisdom than truth? how can there be? can the same nature be a lover of wisdom and a lover of * d* falsehood? never. the true lover of learning then must from his earliest youth, as far as in him lies, desire all truth? assuredly. but then again, as we know by experience, he whose desires are strong in one direction will have them weaker in others; they will be like a stream which has been drawn off into another channel. true. [sidenote: he will be absorbed in the pleasures of the soul, and therefore temperate and the reverse of covetous or mean.] he whose desires are drawn towards knowledge in every form will be absorbed in the pleasures of the soul, and will hardly feel bodily pleasure--i mean, if he be a true philosopher and not a sham one. * e* that is most certain. such an one is sure to be temperate and the reverse of covetous; for the motives which make another man desirous of having and spending, have no place in his character. very true. * a* another criterion of the philosophical nature has also to be considered. what is that? there should be no secret corner of illiberality; nothing can be more antagonistic than meanness to a soul which is ever longing after the whole of things both divine and human. most true, he replied. [sidenote: in the magnificence of his contemplations he will not think much of human life.] then how can he who has magnificence of mind and is the spectator of all time and all existence, think much of human life? he cannot. * b* or can such an one account death fearful? no indeed. then the cowardly and mean nature has no part in true philosophy? { } certainly not. or again: can he who is harmoniously constituted, who is not covetous or mean, or a boaster, or a coward--can he, i say, ever be unjust or hard in his dealings? impossible. [sidenote: he will be of a gentle, sociable, harmonious nature; a lover of learning, having a good memory and moving spontaneously in the world of being.] then you will soon observe whether a man is just and gentle, or rude and unsociable; these are the signs which distinguish even in youth the philosophical nature from the unphilosophical. true. * c* there is another point which should be remarked. what point? whether he has or has not a pleasure in learning; for no one will love that which gives him pain, and in which after much toil he makes little progress. certainly not. and again, if he is forgetful and retains nothing of what he learns, will he not be an empty vessel? that is certain. labouring in vain, he must end in hating himself and his fruitless occupation? yes. * d* then a soul which forgets cannot be ranked among genuine philosophic natures; we must insist that the philosopher should have a good memory? certainly. and once more, the inharmonious and unseemly nature can only tend to disproportion? undoubtedly. and do you consider truth to be akin to proportion or to disproportion? to proportion. then, besides other qualities, we must try to find a naturally well-proportioned and gracious mind, which will move spontaneously towards the true being of everything. certainly. * e* well, and do not all these qualities, which we have been enumerating, go together, and are they not, in a manner, necessary to a soul, which is to have a full and perfect participation of being? { } * a* they are absolutely necessary, he replied. [sidenote: conclusion: what a blameless study then is philosophy!] and must not that be a blameless study which he only can pursue who has the gift of a good memory, and is quick to learn,--noble, gracious, the friend of truth, justice, courage, temperance, who are his kindred? the god of jealousy himself, he said, could find no fault with such a study. and to men like him, i said, when perfected by years and education, and to these only you will entrust the state. [sidenote: socrates, adeimantus.] [sidenote: nay, says adeimantus, you can prove anything, but your hearers are unconvinced all the same.] [sidenote: common opinion declares philosophers to be either rogues or useless.] * b* here adeimantus interposed and said: to these statements, socrates, no one can offer a reply; but when you talk in this way, a strange feeling passes over the minds of your hearers: they fancy that they are led astray a little at each step in the argument, owing to their own want of skill in asking and answering questions; these littles accumulate, and at the end of the discussion they are found to have sustained a mighty overthrow and all their former notions appear to be turned upside down. and as unskilful players of draughts are at last shut up by their more skilful adversaries * c* and have no piece to move, so they too find themselves shut up at last; for they have nothing to say in this new game of which words are the counters; and yet all the time they are in the right. the observation is suggested to me by what is now occurring. for any one of us might say, that although in words he is not able to meet you at each step of the argument, he sees as a fact that the votaries of philosophy, when they carry on the study, not only in youth as a part of * d* education, but as the pursuit of their maturer years, most of them become strange monsters, not to say utter rogues, and that those who may be considered the best of them are made useless to the world by the very study which you extol. well, and do you think that those who say so are wrong? i cannot tell, he replied; but i should like to know what is your opinion. [sidenote: socrates, instead of denying this statement, admits the truth of it.] hear my answer; i am of opinion that they are quite right. * e* then how can you be justified in saying that cities will not cease from evil until philosophers rule in them, when philosophers are acknowledged by us to be of no use to them? you ask a question, i said, to which a reply can only be given in a parable. { } yes, socrates; and that is a way of speaking to which you are not at all accustomed, i suppose. [sidenote: a parable.] [sidenote: the noble captain whose senses are rather dull (the people in their better mind); the mutinous crew (the mob of politicians); and the pilot (the true philosopher).] i perceive, i said, that you are vastly amused at having plunged me into such a hopeless discussion; but now hear * a* the parable, and then you will be still more amused at the meagreness of my imagination: for the manner in which the best men are treated in their own states is so grievous that no single thing on earth is comparable to it; and therefore, if i am to plead their cause, i must have recourse to fiction, and put together a figure made up of many things, like the fabulous unions of goats and stags which are found in pictures. imagine then a fleet or a ship in which there is * b* a captain who is taller and stronger than any of the crew, but he is a little deaf and has a similar infirmity in sight, and his knowledge of navigation is not much better. the sailors are quarrelling with one another about the steering--every one is of opinion that he has a right to steer, though he has never learned the art of navigation and cannot tell who taught him or when he learned, and will further assert that it cannot be taught, and they are ready to cut in pieces any * c* one who says the contrary. they throng about the captain, begging and praying him to commit the helm to them; and if at any time they do not prevail, but others are preferred to them, they kill the others or throw them overboard, and having first chained up the noble captain's senses with drink or some narcotic drug, they mutiny and take possession of the ship and make free with the stores; thus, eating and drinking, they proceed on their voyage in such manner as * d* might be expected of them. him who is their partisan and cleverly aids them in their plot for getting the ship out of the captain's hands into their own whether by force or persuasion, they compliment with the name of sailor, pilot, able seaman, and abuse the other sort of man, whom they call a good-for-nothing; but that the true pilot must pay attention to the year and seasons and sky and stars and winds, and whatever else belongs to his art, if he intends to be really qualified for the command of a ship, and that he must and * e* will be the steerer, whether other people like or not--the possibility of this union of authority with the steerer's art has never seriously entered into their thoughts or been made * a* part { } of their calling[ ]. now in vessels which are in a state of mutiny and by sailors who are mutineers, how will the true pilot be regarded? will he not be called by them a prater, a star-gazer, a good-for-nothing? [footnote : or, applying [greek: o(/pôs de\ kubernê/sei] to the mutineers, 'but only understanding ([greek: e)pai+/ontas]) that he (the mutinous pilot) must rule in spite of other people, never considering that there is an art of command which may be practised in combination with the pilot's art.'] of course, said adeimantus. [sidenote: the interpretation.] then you will hardly need, i said, to hear the interpretation of the figure, which describes the true philosopher in his relation to the state; for you understand already. certainly. then suppose you now take this parable to the gentleman who is surprised at finding that philosophers have no honour in their cities; explain it to him and try to convince him that * b* their having honour would be far more extraordinary. i will. [sidenote: the uselessness of philosophers arises out of the unwillingness of mankind to make use of them.] say to him, that, in deeming the best votaries of philosophy to be useless to the rest of the world, he is right; but also tell him to attribute their uselessness to the fault of those who will not use them, and not to themselves. the pilot should not humbly beg the sailors to be commanded by him--that is not the order of nature; neither are 'the wise to go to the doors of the rich'--the ingenious author of this saying told a lie--but the truth is, that, when a man is ill, * c* whether he be rich or poor, to the physician he must go, and he who wants to be governed, to him who is able to govern. the ruler who is good for anything ought not to beg his subjects to be ruled by him; although the present governors of mankind are of a different stamp; they may be justly compared to the mutinous sailors, and the true helmsmen to those who are called by them good-for-nothings and star-gazers. precisely so, he said. [sidenote: the real enemies of philosophy her professing followers.] for these reasons, and among men like these, philosophy, the noblest pursuit of all, is not likely to be much esteemed * d* by those of the opposite faction; not that the greatest and most lasting injury is done to her by her opponents, but by her own professing followers, the same of whom you { } suppose the accuser to say, that the greater number of them are arrant rogues, and the best are useless; in which opinion i agreed. yes. and the reason why the good are useless has now been explained? true. [sidenote: the corruption of philosophy due to many causes.] then shall we proceed to show that the corruption of the majority is also unavoidable, and that this is not to be laid to * e* the charge of philosophy any more than the other? by all means. and let us ask and answer in turn, first going back to the * a* description of the gentle and noble nature. truth, as you will remember, was his leader, whom he followed always and in all things; failing in this, he was an impostor, and had no part or lot in true philosophy. yes, that was said. well, and is not this one quality, to mention no others, greatly at variance with present notions of him? certainly, he said. [sidenote: but before considering this, let us re-enumerate the qualities of the philosopher:] and have we not a right to say in his defence, that the true lover of knowledge is always striving after being--that is his nature; he will not rest in the multiplicity of individuals * b* which is an appearance only, but will go on--the keen edge will not be blunted, nor the force of his desire abate until he have attained the knowledge of the true nature of every essence by a sympathetic and kindred power in the soul, and by that power drawing near and mingling and becoming incorporate with very being, having begotten mind and truth, he will have knowledge and will live and grow truly, and then, and not till then, will he cease from his travail. nothing, he said, can be more just than such a description of him. [sidenote: his love of essence, of truth, of justice, besides his other virtues and natural gifts.] and will the love of a lie be any part of a philosopher's nature? will he not utterly hate a lie? * c* he will. and when truth is the captain, we cannot suspect any evil of the band which he leads? impossible. { } justice and health of mind will be of the company, and temperance will follow after? true, he replied. neither is there any reason why i should again set in array the philosopher's virtues, as you will doubtless remember that courage, magnificence, apprehension, memory, were his natural gifts. and you objected that, although no one could * d* deny what i then said, still, if you leave words and look at facts, the persons who are thus described are some of them manifestly useless, and the greater number utterly depraved; we were then led to enquire into the grounds of these accusations, and have now arrived at the point of asking why are the majority bad, which question of necessity brought us back to the examination and definition of the true philosopher. * e* exactly. [sidenote: the reasons why philosophical natures so easily deteriorate.] and we have next to consider the corruptions of the philosophic nature, why so many are spoiled and so few escape spoiling--i am speaking of those who were said to be * a* useless but not wicked--and, when we have done with them, we will speak of the imitators of philosophy, what manner of men are they who aspire after a profession which is above them and of which they are unworthy, and then, by their manifold inconsistencies, bring upon philosophy, and upon all philosophers, that universal reprobation of which we speak. what are these corruptions? he said. [sidenote: ( ) there are but a few of them;] i will see if i can explain them to you. every one will admit that a nature having in perfection all the qualities * b* which we required in a philosopher, is a rare plant which is seldom seen among men. rare indeed. and what numberless and powerful causes tend to destroy these rare natures! what causes? [sidenote: ( ) and they may be distracted from philosophy by their own virtues;] in the first place there are their own virtues, their courage, temperance, and the rest of them, every one of which praiseworthy qualities (and this is a most singular circumstance) destroys and distracts from philosophy the soul which is the possessor of them. that is very singular, he replied. { } [sidenote: and also, ( ), by the ordinary goods of life.] * c* then there are all the ordinary goods of life--beauty, wealth, strength, rank, and great connections in the state--you understand the sort of things--these also have a corrupting and distracting effect. i understand; but i should like to know more precisely what you mean about them. grasp the truth as a whole, i said, and in the right way; you will then have no difficulty in apprehending the preceding remarks, and they will no longer appear strange to you. and how am i to do so? he asked. * d* why, i said, we know that all germs or seeds, whether vegetable or animal, when they fail to meet with proper nutriment or climate or soil, in proportion to their vigour, are all the more sensitive to the want of a suitable environment, for evil is a greater enemy to what is good than to what is not. very true. [sidenote: ( ) the finer natures more liable to injury than the inferior.] there is reason in supposing that the finest natures, when under alien conditions, receive more injury than the inferior, because the contrast is greater. certainly. * e* and may we not say, adeimantus, that the most gifted minds, when they are ill-educated, become pre-eminently bad? do not great crimes and the spirit of pure evil spring out of a fulness of nature ruined by education rather than from any inferiority, whereas weak natures are scarcely capable of any very great good or very great evil? there i think that you are right. [sidenote: ( ) they are not corrupted by private sophists, but compelled by the opinion of the world meeting in the assembly or in some other place of resort.] * a* and our philosopher follows the same analogy--he is like a plant which, having proper nurture, must necessarily grow and mature into all virtue, but, if sown and planted in an alien soil, becomes the most noxious of all weeds, unless he be preserved by some divine power. do you really think, as people so often say, that our youth are corrupted by sophists, or that private teachers of the art corrupt them in any degree worth speaking of? are not the public who say these things * b* the greatest of all sophists? and do they not educate to perfection young and old, men and women alike, and fashion them after their own hearts? when is this accomplished? he said. { } when they meet together, and the world sits down at an assembly, or in a court of law, or a theatre, or a camp, or in any other popular resort, and there is a great uproar, and they praise some things which are being said or done, and blame other things, equally exaggerating both, shouting and * c* clapping their hands, and the echo of the rocks and the place in which they are assembled redoubles the sound of the praise or blame--at such a time will not a young man's heart, as they say, leap within him? will any private training enable him to stand firm against the overwhelming flood of popular opinion? or will he be carried away by the stream? will he not have the notions of good and evil which the public in general have--he will do as they do, and as they are, such will he be? * d* yes, socrates; necessity will compel him. [sidenote: ( ) the other compulsion of violence and death.] and yet, i said, there is a still greater necessity, which has not been mentioned. what is that? the gentle force of attainder or confiscation or death, which, as you are aware, these new sophists and educators, who are the public, apply when their words are powerless. indeed they do; and in right good earnest. now what opinion of any other sophist, or of any private person, can be expected to overcome in such an unequal contest? * e* none, he replied. [sidenote: they must be saved, if at all, by the power of god.] no, indeed, i said, even to make the attempt is a great piece of folly; there neither is, nor has been, nor is ever likely to be, any different type of character which has had no other training in virtue but that which is supplied by public opinion[ ]--i speak, my friend, of human virtue only; what is more than human, as the proverb says, is not included: for i would not have you ignorant that, in the present evil state of governments, whatever is saved and comes to good is * a* saved by the power of god, as we may truly say. [footnote : or, taking [greek: para\] in another sense, 'trained to virtue on their principles.'] i quite assent, he replied. then let me crave your assent also to a further observation. what are you going to say? [sidenote: the great brute; his behaviour and temper (the people looked at from their worse side).] why, that all those mercenary individuals, whom the many { } call sophists and whom they deem to be their adversaries, do, in fact, teach nothing but the opinion of the many, that is to say, the opinions of their assemblies; and this is their wisdom. i might compare them to a man who should study the tempers and desires of a mighty strong beast who is fed * b* by him--he would learn how to approach and handle him, also at what times and from what causes he is dangerous or the reverse, and what is the meaning of his several cries, and by what sounds, when another utters them, he is soothed or infuriated; and you may suppose further, that when, by continually attending upon him, he has become perfect in all this, he calls his knowledge wisdom, and makes of it a system or art, which he proceeds to teach, although he has no real notion of what he means by the principles or passions of which he is speaking, but calls this honourable and that dishonourable, or good or evil, or just or unjust, all in accordance * c* with the tastes and tempers of the great brute. good he pronounces to be that in which the beast delights and evil to be that which he dislikes; and he can give no other account of them except that the just and noble are the necessary, having never himself seen, and having no power of explaining to others the nature of either, or the difference between them, which is immense. by heaven, would not such an one be a rare educator? indeed he would. [sidenote: he who associates with the people will conform to their tastes and will produce only what pleases them.] and in what way does he who thinks that wisdom is * d* the discernment of the tempers and tastes of the motley multitude, whether in painting or music, or, finally, in politics, differ from him whom i have been describing? for when a man consorts with the many, and exhibits to them his poem or other work of art or the service which he has done the state, making them his judges[ ] when he is not obliged, the so-called necessity of diomede will oblige him to produce whatever they praise. and yet the reasons are utterly ludicrous which they give in confirmation of their own notions about the honourable and good. did you ever hear any of them which were not? [footnote : putting a comma after [greek: tô=n a)nangkai/ôn].] * e* no, nor am i likely to hear. you recognise the truth of what i have been saying? then { } let me ask you to consider further whether the world will ever be induced to believe in the existence of absolute * a* beauty rather than of the many beautiful, or of the absolute in each kind rather than of the many in each kind? certainly not. then the world cannot possibly be a philosopher? impossible. and therefore philosophers must inevitably fall under the censure of the world? they must. and of individuals who consort with the mob and seek to please them? that is evident. then, do you see any way in which the philosopher can * b* be preserved in his calling to the end? and remember what we were saying of him, that he was to have quickness and memory and courage and magnificence--these were admitted by us to be the true philosopher's gifts. yes. [sidenote: the youth who has great bodily and mental gifts will be flattered from his childhood,] will not such an one from his early childhood be in all things first among all, especially if his bodily endowments are like his mental ones? certainly, he said. and his friends and fellow-citizens will want to use him as he gets older for their own purposes? no question. * c* falling at his feet, they will make requests to him and do him honour and flatter him, because they want to get into their hands now, the power which he will one day possess. that often happens, he said. and what will a man such as he is be likely to do under such circumstances, especially if he be a citizen of a great city, rich and noble, and a tall proper youth? will he not be full of boundless aspirations, and fancy himself able to manage the affairs of hellenes and of barbarians, and having got such * d* notions into his head will he not dilate and elevate himself in the fulness of vain pomp and senseless pride? to be sure he will. [sidenote: and being incapable of having reason, will be easily drawn away from philosophy.] now, when he is in this state of mind, if some one gently comes to him and tells him that he is a fool and must get { } understanding, which can only be got by slaving for it, do you think that, under such adverse circumstances, he will be easily induced to listen? far otherwise. and even if there be some one who through inherent * e* goodness or natural reasonableness has had his eyes opened a little and is humbled and taken captive by philosophy, how will his friends behave when they think that they are likely to lose the advantage which they were hoping to reap from his companionship? will they not do and say anything to prevent him from yielding to his better nature and to render his teacher powerless, using to this end private intrigues as well as public prosecutions? * a* there can be no doubt of it. and how can one who is thus circumstanced ever become a philosopher? impossible. [sidenote: the very qualities which make a man a philosopher may also divert him from philosophy.] then were we not right in saying that even the very qualities which make a man a philosopher may, if he be ill-educated, divert him from philosophy, no less than riches and their accompaniments and the other so-called goods of life? we were quite right. [sidenote: great natures alone are capable, either of great good, or great evil.] thus, my excellent friend, is brought about all that ruin and * b* failure which i have been describing of the natures best adapted to the best of all pursuits; they are natures which we maintain to be rare at any time; this being the class out of which come the men who are the authors of the greatest evil to states and individuals; and also of the greatest good when the tide carries them in that direction; but a small man never was the doer of any great thing either to individuals or to states. that is most true, he said. and so philosophy is left desolate, with her marriage rite * c* incomplete: for her own have fallen away and forsaken her, and while they are leading a false and unbecoming life, other unworthy persons, seeing that she has no kinsmen to be her protectors, enter in and dishonour her; and fasten upon her the reproaches which, as you say, her reprovers utter, who affirm of her votaries that some are good for nothing, and that the greater number deserve the severest punishment. { } that is certainly what people say. [sidenote: the attractiveness of philosophy to the vulgar.] yes; and what else would you expect, i said, when you think of the puny creatures who, seeing this land open to * d* them--a land well stocked with fair names and showy titles--like prisoners running out of prison into a sanctuary, take a leap out of their trades into philosophy; those who do so being probably the cleverest hands at their own miserable crafts? for, although philosophy be in this evil case, still there remains a dignity about her which is not to be found in the arts. and many are thus attracted by her whose * e* natures are imperfect and whose souls are maimed and disfigured by their meannesses, as their bodies are by their trades and crafts. is not this unavoidable? yes. are they not exactly like a bald little tinker who has just got out of durance and come into a fortune; he takes a bath and puts on a new coat, and is decked out as a bridegroom going to marry his master's daughter, who is left poor and desolate? * a* a most exact parallel. what will be the issue of such marriages? will they not be vile and bastard? there can be no question of it. [sidenote: the _mésalliance_ of philosophy.] and when persons who are unworthy of education approach philosophy and make an alliance with her who is in a rank above them what sort of ideas and opinions are likely to be generated? [ ]will they not be sophisms captivating to the ear, having nothing in them genuine, or worthy of or akin to true wisdom? [footnote : or, 'will they not deserve to be called sophisms,' ....] no doubt, he said. [sidenote: few are the worthy disciples:] [sidenote: and these are unable to resist the madness of the world;] [sidenote: they therefore in order to escape the storm take shelter behind a wall and live their own life.] then, adeimantus, i said, the worthy disciples of philosophy * b* will be but a small remnant: perchance some noble and well-educated person, detained by exile in her service, who in the absence of corrupting influences remains devoted to her; or some lofty soul born in a mean city, the politics of which he contemns and neglects; and there may be a gifted few who leave the arts, which they justly despise, and come to her;--or peradventure there are some who are restrained * c* by our friend theages' bridle; for everything in the life of theages { } conspired to divert him from philosophy; but ill-health kept him away from politics. my own case of the internal sign is hardly worth mentioning, for rarely, if ever, has such a monitor been given to any other man. those who belong to this small class have tasted how sweet and blessed a possession philosophy is, and have also seen enough of the madness of the multitude; and they know * d* that no politician is honest, nor is there any champion of justice at whose side they may fight and be saved. such an one may be compared to a man who has fallen among wild beasts--he will not join in the wickedness of his fellows, but neither is he able singly to resist all their fierce natures, and therefore seeing that he would be of no use to the state or to his friends, and reflecting that he would have to throw away his life without doing any good either to himself or others, he holds his peace, and goes his own way. he is like one who, in the storm of dust and sleet which the driving wind hurries along, retires under the shelter of a wall; and seeing the rest of mankind full of wickedness, he is content, * e* if only he can live his own life and be pure from evil or unrighteousness, and depart in peace and good-will, with bright hopes. yes, he said, and he will have done a great work before he departs. a great work--yes; but not the greatest, unless he find * a* a state suitable to him; for in a state which is suitable to him, he will have a larger growth and be the saviour of his country, as well as of himself. the causes why philosophy is in such an evil name have now been sufficiently explained: the injustice of the charges against her has been shown--is there anything more which you wish to say? nothing more on that subject, he replied; but i should like to know which of the governments now existing is in your opinion the one adapted to her. [sidenote: no existing state suited to philosophy.] * b* not any of them, i said; and that is precisely the accusation which i bring against them--not one of them is worthy of the philosophic nature, and hence that nature is warped and estranged;--as the exotic seed which is sown in a foreign land becomes denaturalized, and is wont to be overpowered and to lose itself in the new soil, even so this growth { } of philosophy, instead of persisting, degenerates and receives another character. but if philosophy ever finds in the state * c* that perfection which she herself is, then will be seen that she is in truth divine, and that all other things, whether natures of men or institutions, are but human;--and now, i know, that you are going to ask, what that state is: no, he said; there you are wrong, for i was going to ask another question--whether it is the state of which we are the founders and inventors, or some other? [sidenote: even our own state requires the addition of the living authority.] yes, i replied, ours in most respects; but you may remember my saying before, that some living authority would always be required in the state having the same idea of * d* the constitution which guided you when as legislator you were laying down the laws. that was said, he replied. yes, but not in a satisfactory manner; you frightened us by interposing objections, which certainly showed that the discussion would be long and difficult; and what still remains is the reverse of easy. what is there remaining? the question how the study of philosophy may be so ordered as not to be the ruin of the state: all great attempts are attended with risk; 'hard is the good,' as men say. * e* still, he said, let the point be cleared up, and the enquiry will then be complete. i shall not be hindered, i said, by any want of will, but, if at all, by a want of power: my zeal you may see for yourselves; and please to remark in what i am about to say how boldly and unhesitatingly i declare that states should pursue philosophy, not as they do now, but in a different spirit. in what manner? [sidenote: the superficial study of philosophy which exists in the present day.] * a* at present, i said, the students of philosophy are quite young; beginning when they are hardly past childhood, they devote only the time saved from moneymaking and housekeeping to such pursuits; and even those of them who are reputed to have most of the philosophic spirit, when they come within sight of the great difficulty of the subject, i mean dialectic, take themselves off. in after life when invited by some one else, they may, perhaps, go and hear a lecture, and about this they make much ado, for philosophy is not considered { } by them to be their proper business: at last, when they grow old, in most cases they are extinguished more * b* truly than heracleitus' sun, inasmuch as they never light up again[ ]. [footnote : heraclitus said that the sun was extinguished every evening and relighted every morning.] but what ought to be their course? just the opposite. in childhood and youth their study, and what philosophy they learn, should be suited to their tender years: during this period while they are growing up towards manhood, the chief and special care should be given to their bodies that they may have them to use in the service of philosophy; as life advances and the intellect begins to mature, let them increase the gymnastics of the soul; but when the strength of our citizens fails and is past civil and * c* military duties, then let them range at will and engage in no serious labour, as we intend them to live happily here, and to crown this life with a similar happiness in another. [sidenote: thrasymachus once more.] how truly in earnest you are, socrates! he said; i am sure of that; and yet most of your hearers, if i am not mistaken, are likely to be still more earnest in their opposition to you, and will never be convinced; thrasymachus least of all. do not make a quarrel, i said, between thrasymachus and * d* me, who have recently become friends, although, indeed, we were never enemies; for i shall go on striving to the utmost until i either convert him and other men, or do something which may profit them against the day when they live again, and hold the like discourse in another state of existence. you are speaking of a time which is not very near. [sidenote: the people hate philosophy because they have only known bad and conventional imitations of it.] rather, i replied, of a time which is as nothing in comparison with eternity. nevertheless, i do not wonder that the many refuse to believe; for they have never seen that of which we are now speaking realized; they have seen only * e* a conventional imitation of philosophy, consisting of words artificially brought together, not like these of ours having a natural unity. but a human being who in word and work is perfectly moulded, as far as he can be, into the proportion and likeness of virtue--such a man ruling in a city which * a* bears the same image, they have never yet seen, neither one nor many of them--do you think that they ever did? { } no indeed. no, my friend, and they have seldom, if ever, heard free and noble sentiments; such as men utter when they are earnestly and by every means in their power seeking after truth for the sake of knowledge, while they look coldly on the subtleties of controversy, of which the end is opinion and strife, whether they meet with them in the courts of law or in society. they are strangers, he said, to the words of which you speak. and this was what we foresaw, and this was the reason * b* why truth forced us to admit, not without fear and hesitation, that neither cities nor states nor individuals will ever attain perfection until the small class of philosophers whom we termed useless but not corrupt are providentially compelled, whether they will or not, to take care of the state, and until a like necessity be laid on the state to obey them[ ]; or until kings, or if not kings, the sons of kings or princes, are divinely * c* inspired with a true love of true philosophy. that either or both of these alternatives are impossible, i see no reason to affirm: if they were so, we might indeed be justly ridiculed as dreamers and visionaries. am i not right? [footnote : reading [greek: katêko/ô|] or [greek: katêko/ois].] quite right. [sidenote: somewhere, at some time, there may have been or may be a philosopher who is also the ruler of a state.] if then, in the countless ages of the past, or at the present hour in some foreign clime which is far away and beyond * d* our ken, the perfected philosopher is or has been or hereafter shall be compelled by a superior power to have the charge of the state, we are ready to assert to the death, that this our constitution has been, and is--yea, and will be whenever the muse of philosophy is queen. there is no impossibility in all this; that there is a difficulty, we acknowledge ourselves. my opinion agrees with yours, he said. but do you mean to say that this is not the opinion of the multitude? i should imagine not, he replied. o my friend, i said, do not attack the multitude: they will * e* change their minds, if, not in an aggressive spirit, but gently { } and with the view of soothing them and removing their dislike of over-education, you show them your philosophers as they really are and describe as you were just now doing * a* their character and profession, and then mankind will see that he of whom you are speaking is not such as they supposed--if they view him in this new light, they will surely change their notion of him, and answer in another strain[ ]. who can be at enmity with one who loves them, who that is himself gentle and free from envy will be jealous of one in whom there is no jealousy? nay, let me answer for you, that in a few this harsh temper may be found but not in the majority of mankind. [footnote : reading [greek: ê)= kai\ e)a\n ou(/tô theô=ntai] without a question, and [greek: a)lloi/an toi]: or, retaining the question and taking [greek: a)lloi/an do/xan] in a new sense: 'do you mean to say really that, viewing him in this light, they will be of another mind from yours, and answer in another strain?'] i quite agree with you, he said. [sidenote: the feeling against philosophy is really a feeling against pretended philosophers who are always talking about persons.] * b* and do you not also think, as i do, that the harsh feeling which the many entertain towards philosophy originates in the pretenders, who rush in uninvited, and are always abusing them, and finding fault with them, who make persons instead of things the theme of their conversation? and nothing can be more unbecoming in philosophers than this. it is most unbecoming. [sidenote: the true philosopher, who has his eye fixed upon immutable principles, will fashion states after the heavenly image.] for he, adeimantus, whose mind is fixed upon true being, has surely no time to look down upon the affairs of earth, or * c* to be filled with malice and envy, contending against men; his eye is ever directed towards things fixed and immutable, which he sees neither injuring nor injured by one another, but all in order moving according to reason; these he imitates, and to these he will, as far as he can, conform himself. can a man help imitating that with which he holds reverential converse? impossible. and the philosopher holding converse with the divine order, becomes orderly and divine, as far as the nature of * d* man allows; but like every one else, he will suffer from detraction. of course. { } and if a necessity be laid upon him of fashioning, not only himself, but human nature generally, whether in states or individuals, into that which he beholds elsewhere, will he, think you, be an unskilful artificer of justice, temperance, and every civil virtue? anything but unskilful. and if the world perceives that what we are saying about * e* him is the truth, will they be angry with philosophy? will they disbelieve us, when we tell them that no state can be happy which is not designed by artists who imitate the heavenly pattern? they will not be angry if they understand, he said. but * a* how will they draw out the plan of which you are speaking? [sidenote: he will begin with a 'tabula rasa' and there inscribe his laws.] they will begin by taking the state and the manners of men, from which, as from a tablet, they will rub out the picture, and leave a clean surface. this is no easy task. but whether easy or not, herein will lie the difference between them and every other legislator,--they will have nothing to do either with individual or state, and will inscribe no laws, until they have either found, or themselves made, a clean surface. they will be very right, he said. having effected this, they will proceed to trace an outline of the constitution? no doubt. * b* and when they are filling in the work, as i conceive, they will often turn their eyes upwards and downwards: i mean that they will first look at absolute justice and beauty and temperance, and again at the human copy; and will mingle and temper the various elements of life into the image of a man; and this they will conceive according to that other image, which, when existing among men, homer calls the form and likeness of god. very true, he said. and one feature they will erase, and another they will put * c* in, until they have made the ways of men, as far as possible, agreeable to the ways of god? indeed, he said, in no way could they make a fairer picture. [sidenote: the enemies of philosophy, when they hear the truth, are gradually propitiated,] and now, i said, are we beginning to persuade those whom { } you described as rushing at us with might and main, that the painter of constitutions is such an one as we are praising; at whom they were so very indignant because to his hands we committed the state; and are they growing a little calmer at what they have just heard? much calmer, if there is any sense in them. * d* why, where can they still find any ground for objection? will they doubt that the philosopher is a lover of truth and being? they would not be so unreasonable. or that his nature, being such as we have delineated, is akin to the highest good? neither can they doubt this. but again, will they tell us that such a nature, placed under favourable circumstances, will not be perfectly good and wise if any ever was? or will they prefer those whom we have rejected? * e* surely not. then will they still be angry at our saying, that, until philosophers bear rule, states and individuals will have no rest from evil, nor will this our imaginary state ever be realized? i think that they will be less angry. [sidenote: and at length become quite gentle.] shall we assume that they are not only less angry but * a* quite gentle, and that they have been converted and for very shame, if for no other reason, cannot refuse to come to terms? by all means, he said. [sidenote: there may have been one son of a king a philosopher who has remained uncorrupted and has a state obedient to his will.] then let us suppose that the reconciliation has been effected. will any one deny the other point, that there may be sons of kings or princes who are by nature philosophers? surely no man, he said. and when they have come into being will any one say that they must of necessity be destroyed; that they can hardly * b* be saved is not denied even by us; but that in the whole course of ages no single one of them can escape--who will venture to affirm this? who indeed! but, said i, one is enough; let there be one man who has a city obedient to his will, and he might bring into existence the ideal polity about which the world is so incredulous. yes, one is enough. { } the ruler may impose the laws and institutions which we have been describing, and the citizens may possibly be willing to obey them? certainly. and that others should approve, of what we approve, is no miracle or impossibility? * c* i think not. but we have sufficiently shown, in what has preceded, that all this, if only possible, is assuredly for the best. we have. [sidenote: our constitution then is not unattainable.] and now we say not only that our laws, if they could be enacted, would be for the best, but also that the enactment of them, though difficult, is not impossible. very good. and so with pain and toil we have reached the end of one subject, but more remains to be discussed;--how and by * d* what studies and pursuits will the saviours of the constitution be created, and at what ages are they to apply themselves to their several studies? certainly. [sidenote: recapitulation.] i omitted the troublesome business of the possession of women, and the procreation of children, and the appointment of the rulers, because i knew that the perfect state would be eyed with jealousy and was difficult of attainment; but that piece of cleverness was not of much service to me, * e* for i had to discuss them all the same. the women and children are now disposed of, but the other question of the rulers must be investigated from the very beginning. we were saying, as you will remember, that they were to be lovers * a* of their country, tried by the test of pleasures and pains, and neither in hardships, nor in dangers, nor at any other critical moment were to lose their patriotism--he was to be rejected who failed, but he who always came forth pure, like gold tried in the refiner's fire, was to be made a ruler, and to receive honours and rewards in life and after death. this was the sort of thing which was being said, and then the argument turned aside and veiled her face; not liking to * b* stir the question which has now arisen. i perfectly remember, he said. [sidenote: the guardian must be a philosopher, and a philosopher must be a person of rare gifts] yes, my friend, i said, and i then shrank from hazarding { } the bold word; but now let me dare to say--that the perfect guardian must be a philosopher. yes, he said, let that be affirmed. and do not suppose that there will be many of them; for the gifts which were deemed by us to be essential rarely grow together; they are mostly found in shreds and patches. * c* what do you mean? he said. [sidenote: the contrast of the quick and solid temperaments.] you are aware, i replied, that quick intelligence, memory, sagacity, cleverness, and similar qualities, do not often grow together, and that persons who possess them and are at the same time high-spirited and magnanimous are not so constituted by nature as to live orderly and in a peaceful and settled manner; they are driven any way by their impulses, and all solid principle goes out of them. very true, he said. on the other hand, those steadfast natures which can * d* better be depended upon, which in a battle are impregnable to fear and immovable, are equally immovable when there is anything to be learned; they are always in a torpid state, and are apt to yawn and go to sleep over any intellectual toil. quite true. [sidenote: they must be united.] and yet we were saying that both qualities were necessary in those to whom the higher education is to be imparted, and who are to share in any office or command. certainly, he said. and will they be a class which is rarely found? yes, indeed. [sidenote: he who is to hold command must be tested in many kinds of knowledge.] * e* then the aspirant must not only be tested in those labours and dangers and pleasures which we mentioned before, but there is another kind of probation which we did not mention--he must be exercised also in many kinds of knowledge, to see whether the soul will be able to endure the highest of all, * a* or will faint under them, as in any other studies and exercises. yes, he said, you are quite right in testing him. but what do you mean by the highest of all knowledge? you may remember, i said, that we divided the soul into three parts; and distinguished the several natures of justice, temperance, courage, and wisdom? indeed, he said, if i had forgotten, i should not deserve to hear more. { } and do you remember the word of caution which preceded the discussion of them[ ]? [footnote : cp. iv. d.] to what do you refer? [sidenote: the shorter exposition of education, which has been already given, inadequate.] * b* we were saying, if i am not mistaken, that he who wanted to see them in their perfect beauty must take a longer and more circuitous way, at the end of which they would appear; but that we could add on a popular exposition of them on a level with the discussion which had preceded. and you replied that such an exposition would be enough for you, and so the enquiry was continued in what to me seemed to be a very inaccurate manner; whether you were satisfied or not, it is for you to say. yes, he said, i thought and the others thought that you gave us a fair measure of truth. * c* but, my friend, i said, a measure of such things which in any degree falls short of the whole truth is not fair measure; for nothing imperfect is the measure of anything, although persons are too apt to be contented and think that they need search no further. not an uncommon case when people are indolent. yes, i said; and there cannot be any worse fault in a guardian of the state and of the laws. true. [sidenote: the guardian must take the longer road of the higher learning,] the guardian then, i said, must be required to take the * d* longer circuit, and toil at learning as well as at gymnastics, or he will never reach the highest knowledge of all which, as we were just now saying, is his proper calling. what, he said, is there a knowledge still higher than this--higher than justice and the other virtues? yes, i said, there is. and of the virtues too we must behold not the outline merely, as at present--nothing short of the most finished picture should satisfy us. when little * e* things are elaborated with an infinity of pains, in order that they may appear in their full beauty and utmost clearness, how ridiculous that we should not think the highest truths worthy of attaining the highest accuracy! a right noble thought[ ]; but do you suppose that we { } shall refrain from asking you what is this highest knowledge? [footnote : or, separating [greek: kai\ ma/la] from [greek: a)/xion], 'true, he said, and a noble thought': or [greek: a)/xion to\ diano/êma] may be a gloss.] [sidenote: which leads upwards at last to the idea of good.] nay, i said, ask if you will; but i am certain that you have heard the answer many times, and now you either do not understand me or, as i rather think, you are disposed to be * a* troublesome; for you have often been told that the idea of good is the highest knowledge, and that all other things become useful and advantageous only by their use of this. you can hardly be ignorant that of this i was about to speak, concerning which, as you have often heard me say, we know so little; and, without which, any other knowledge * b* or possession of any kind will profit us nothing. do you think that the possession of all other things is of any value if we do not possess the good? or the knowledge of all other things if we have no knowledge of beauty and goodness? assuredly not. [sidenote: but what is the good? some say pleasure, others knowledge, which they absurdly explain to mean knowledge of the good.] you are further aware that most people affirm pleasure to be the good, but the finer sort of wits say it is knowledge? yes. and you are aware too that the latter cannot explain what they mean by knowledge, but are obliged after all to say knowledge of the good? how ridiculous! * c* yes, i said, that they should begin by reproaching us with our ignorance of the good, and then presume our knowledge of it--for the good they define to be knowledge of the good, just as if we understood them when they use the term 'good'--this is of course ridiculous. most true, he said. and those who make pleasure their good are in equal perplexity; for they are compelled to admit that there are bad pleasures as well as good. certainly. and therefore to acknowledge that bad and good are the same? * d* true. there can be no doubt about the numerous difficulties in which this question is involved. there can be none. further, do we not see that many are willing to do or to { } have or to seem to be what is just and honourable without the reality; but no one is satisfied with the appearance of good--the reality is what they seek; in the case of the good, appearance is despised by every one. very true, he said. [sidenote: every man pursues the good, but without knowing the nature of it.] of this then, which every soul of man pursues and makes * e* the end of all his actions, having a presentiment that there is such an end, and yet hesitating because neither knowing * a* the nature nor having the same assurance of this as of other things, and therefore losing whatever good there is in other things,--of a principle such and so great as this ought the best men in our state, to whom everything is entrusted, to be in the darkness of ignorance? certainly not, he said. i am sure, i said, that he who does not know how the beautiful and the just are likewise good will be but a sorry guardian of them; and i suspect that no one who is ignorant of the good will have a true knowledge of them. that, he said, is a shrewd suspicion of yours. * b* and if we only have a guardian who has this knowledge our state will be perfectly ordered? [sidenote: the guardian ought to know these things.] of course, he replied; but i wish that you would tell me whether you conceive this supreme principle of the good to be knowledge or pleasure, or different from either? aye, i said, i knew all along that a fastidious gentleman[ ] like you would not be contented with the thoughts of other people about these matters. [footnote : reading [greek: a)nê\r kalo/s]: or reading [greek: a)nê\r kalô=s], 'i quite well knew from the very first, that you, &c.'] true, socrates; but i must say that one who like you has passed a lifetime in the study of philosophy should not be * c* always repeating the opinions of others, and never telling his own. well, but has any one a right to say positively what he does not know? not, he said, with the assurance of positive certainty; he has no right to do that: but he may say what he thinks, as a matter of opinion. and do you not know, i said, that all mere opinions are bad, and the best of them blind? you would not deny that { } those who have any true notion without intelligence are only like blind men who feel their way along the road? very true. and do you wish to behold what is blind and crooked and * d* base, when others will tell you of brightness and beauty? [sidenote: socrates, glaucon.] still, i must implore you, socrates, said glaucon, not to turn away just as you are reaching the goal; if you will only give such an explanation of the good as you have already given of justice and temperance and the other virtues, we shall be satisfied. [sidenote: we can only attain to the things of mind through the things of sense. the 'child' of the good.] yes, my friend, and i shall be at least equally satisfied, but i cannot help fearing that i shall fail, and that my indiscreet zeal will bring ridicule upon me. no, sweet sirs, let us not * e* at present ask what is the actual nature of the good, for to reach what is now in my thoughts would be an effort too great for me. but of the child of the good who is likest him, i would fain speak, if i could be sure that you wished to hear--otherwise, not. by all means, he said, tell us about the child, and you shall remain in our debt for the account of the parent. * a* i do indeed wish, i replied, that i could pay, and you receive, the account of the parent, and not, as now, of the offspring only; take, however, this latter by way of interest[ ], and at the same time have a care that i do not render a false account, although i have no intention of deceiving you. [footnote: : a play upon [greek: to/kos], which means both 'offspring' and 'interest.'] yes, we will take all the care that we can: proceed. yes, i said, but i must first come to an understanding with you, and remind you of what i have mentioned in the course of this discussion, and at many other times. * b* what? the old story, that there is a many beautiful and a many good, and so of other things which we describe and define; to all of them the term 'many' is applied. true, he said. and there is an absolute beauty and an absolute good, and of other things to which the term 'many' is applied there is an absolute; for they may be brought under a single idea, which is called the essence of each. very true. { } the many, as we say, are seen but not known, and the ideas are known but not seen. exactly. * c* and what is the organ with which we see the visible things? the sight, he said. and with the hearing, i said, we hear, and with the other senses perceive the other objects of sense? true. [sidenote: sight the most complex of the senses,] but have you remarked that sight is by far the most costly and complex piece of workmanship which the artificer of the senses ever contrived? no, i never have, he said. then reflect; has the ear or voice need of any third or * d* additional nature in order that the one may be able to hear and the other to be heard? nothing of the sort. no, indeed, i replied; and the same is true of most, if not all, the other senses--you would not say that any of them requires such an addition? certainly not. but you see that without the addition of some other nature there is no seeing or being seen? how do you mean? [sidenote: and, unlike the other senses, requires the addition of a third nature before it can be used. this third nature is light.] sight being, as i conceive, in the eyes, and he who has eyes wanting to see; colour being also present in them, still * e* unless there be a third nature specially adapted to the purpose, the owner of the eyes will see nothing and the colours will be invisible. of what nature are you speaking? of that which you term light, i replied. true, he said. * a* noble, then, is the bond which links together sight and visibility, and great beyond other bonds by no small difference of nature; for light is their bond, and light is no ignoble thing? nay, he said, the reverse of ignoble. and which, i said, of the gods in heaven would you say was the lord of this element? whose is that light which makes the eye to see perfectly and the visible to appear? { } you mean the sun, as you and all mankind say. may not the relation of sight to this deity be described as follows? how? * b* neither sight nor the eye in which sight resides is the sun? no. [sidenote: the eye like the sun, but not the same with it.] yet of all the organs of sense the eye is the most like the sun? by far the most like. and the power which the eye possesses is a sort of effluence which is dispensed from the sun? exactly. then the sun is not sight, but the author of sight who is recognised by sight? true, he said. and this is he whom i call the child of the good, whom the good begat in his own likeness, to be in the visible world, in * c* relation to sight and the things of sight, what the good is in the intellectual world in relation to mind and the things of mind: will you be a little more explicit? he said. why, you know, i said, that the eyes, when a person directs them towards objects on which the light of day is no longer shining, but the moon and stars only, see dimly, and are nearly blind; they seem to have no clearness of vision in them? very true. [sidenote: visible objects are to be seen only when the sun shines upon them; truth is only known when illuminated by the idea of good.] * d* but when they are directed towards objects on which the sun shines, they see clearly and there is sight in them? certainly. and the soul is like the eye: when resting upon that on which truth and being shine, the soul perceives and understands, and is radiant with intelligence; but when turned towards the twilight of becoming and perishing, then she has opinion only, and goes blinking about, and is first of one opinion and then of another, and seems to have no intelligence? just so. [sidenote: the idea of good higher than science or truth (the objective than the subjective).] * e* now, that which imparts truth to the known and the power of knowing to the knower is what i would have you term the { } idea of good, and this you will deem to be the cause of science[ ], and of truth in so far as the latter becomes the subject of knowledge; beautiful too, as are both truth and knowledge, you will be right in esteeming this other nature * a* as more beautiful than either; and, as in the previous instance, light and sight may be truly said to be like the sun, and yet not to be the sun, so in this other sphere, science and truth may be deemed to be like the good, but not the good; the good has a place of honour yet higher. [footnote : reading [greek: dianoou=].] what a wonder of beauty that must be, he said, which is the author of science and truth, and yet surpasses them in beauty; for you surely cannot mean to say that pleasure is the good? god forbid, i replied; but may i ask you to consider the image in another point of view? * b* in what point of view? you would say, would you not, that the sun is not only the author of visibility in all visible things, but of generation and nourishment and growth, though he himself is not generation? certainly. [sidenote: as the sun is the cause of generation, so the good is the cause of being and essence.] in like manner the good may be said to be not only the author of knowledge to all things known, but of their being and essence, and yet the good is not essence, but far exceeds essence in dignity and power. * c* glaucon said, with a ludicrous earnestness: by the light of heaven, how amazing! yes, i said, and the exaggeration may be set down to you; for you made me utter my fancies. and pray continue to utter them; at any rate let us hear if there is anything more to be said about the similitude of the sun. yes, i said, there is a great deal more. then omit nothing, however slight. i will do my best, i said; but i should think that a great deal will have to be omitted. i hope not, he said. * d* you have to imagine, then, that there are two ruling { } powers, and that one of them is set over the intellectual world, the other over the visible. i do not say heaven, lest you should fancy that i am playing upon the name ([greek: ou)rano/s, o(rato/s]). may i suppose that you have this distinction of the visible and intelligible fixed in your mind? i have. [sidenote: the two spheres of sight and knowledge are represented by a line which is divided into two unequal parts.] now take a line which has been cut into two unequal[ ] parts, and divide each of them again in the same proportion, and suppose the two main divisions to answer, one to the visible and the other to the intelligible, and then compare the subdivisions in respect of their clearness and want of * e* clearness, and you will find that the first section in the * a* sphere of the visible consists of images. and by images i mean, in the first place, shadows, and in the second place, reflections in water and in solid, smooth and polished bodies and the like: do you understand? [footnote : reading: [greek: a)/nisa].] yes, i understand. imagine, now, the other section, of which this is only the resemblance, to include the animals which we see, and everything that grows or is made. very good. would you not admit that both the sections of this division have different degrees of truth, and that the copy is to the original as the sphere of opinion is to the sphere of knowledge? * b* most undoubtedly. next proceed to consider the manner in which the sphere of the intellectual is to be divided. in what manner? [sidenote: images and hypotheses.] thus:--there are two subdivisions, in the lower of which the soul uses the figures given by the former division as images; the enquiry can only be hypothetical, and instead of going upwards to a principle descends to the other end; in the higher of the two, the soul passes out of hypotheses, and goes up to a principle which is above hypotheses, making no use of images[ ] as in the former case, but proceeding only in and through the ideas themselves. [footnote : reading [greek: ô(=nper e)kei=no ei)ko/nôn].] i do not quite understand your meaning, he said. { } [sidenote: the hypotheses of mathematics.] * c* then i will try again; you will understand me better when i have made some preliminary remarks. you are aware that students of geometry, arithmetic, and the kindred sciences assume the odd and the even and the figures and three kinds of angles and the like in their several branches of science; these are their hypotheses, which they and every body are supposed to know, and therefore they do not deign to give any account of them either to themselves or others; * d* but they begin with them, and go on until they arrive at last, and in a consistent manner, at their conclusion? yes, he said, i know. [sidenote: in both spheres hypotheses are used, in the lower taking the form of images, but in the higher the soul ascends above hypotheses to the idea of good.] and do you not know also that although they make use of the visible forms and reason about them, they are thinking not of these, but of the ideals which they resemble; not of the * e* figures which they draw, but of the absolute square and the absolute diameter, and so on--the forms which they draw or make, and which have shadows and reflections in water of their own, are converted by them into images, but they are really seeking to behold the things themselves, which can only be seen with the eye of the mind? * a* that is true. and of this kind i spoke as the intelligible, although in the search after it the soul is compelled to use hypotheses; not ascending to a first principle, because she is unable to rise above the region of hypothesis, but employing the objects of which the shadows below are resemblances in their turn as images, they having in relation to the shadows and reflections of them a greater distinctness, and therefore a higher value. * b* i understand, he said, that you are speaking of the province of geometry and the sister arts. [sidenote: dialectic by the help of hypotheses rises above hypotheses.] and when i speak of the other division of the intelligible, you will understand me to speak of that other sort of knowledge which reason herself attains by the power of dialectic, using the hypotheses not as first principles, but only as hypotheses--that is to say, as steps and points of departure into a world which is above hypotheses, in order that she may soar beyond them to the first principle of the whole; and clinging to this and then to that which depends on this, by successive steps she descends again without the aid of { } * c* any sensible object, from ideas, through ideas, and in ideas she ends. [sidenote: return to psychology.] i understand you, he replied; not perfectly, for you seem to me to be describing a task which is really tremendous; but, at any rate, i understand you to say that knowledge and being, which the science of dialectic contemplates, are clearer than the notions of the arts, as they are termed, which proceed from hypotheses only: these are also contemplated by the understanding, and not by the senses: yet, because * d* they start from hypotheses and do not ascend to a principle, those who contemplate them appear to you not to exercise the higher reason upon them, although when a first principle is added to them they are cognizable by the higher reason. and the habit which is concerned with geometry and the cognate sciences i suppose that you would term understanding and not reason, as being intermediate between opinion and reason. [sidenote: four faculties: reason, understanding, faith, perception of shadows.] you have quite conceived my meaning, i said; and now, corresponding to these four divisions, let there be four faculties in the soul--reason answering to the highest, * e* understanding to the second, faith (or conviction) to the third, and perception of shadows to the last--and let there be a scale of them, and let us suppose that the several faculties have clearness in the same degree that their objects have truth. i understand, he replied, and give my assent, and accept your arrangement. book vii. [sidenote: _republic vii._ socrates, glaucon.] [sidenote: the den, the prisoners; the light at a distance;] * a* and now, i said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened:--behold! human beings living in a underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and * b* can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets. i see. [sidenote: the low wall, and the moving figures of which the shadows are seen on the opposite wall of the den.] and do you see, i said, men passing along the wall carrying * c* all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals * a* made of wood and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall? some of them are talking, others silent. you have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners. like ourselves, i replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave? true, he said; how could they see anything but the * b* shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads? and of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only see the shadows? yes, he said. and if they were able to converse with one another, would they not suppose that they were naming what was actually before them[ ]? { } [footnote : reading [greek: paro/nta].] very true. [sidenote: the prisoners would mistake the shadows for realities.] and suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the other side, would they not be sure to fancy when one of the passers-by spoke that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadow? no question, he replied. * c* to them, i said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the images. that is certain. [sidenote: and when released, they would still persist in maintaining the superior truth of the shadows.] and now look again, and see what will naturally follow if the prisoners are released and disabused of their error. at first, when any of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him, and he will be unable to see the realities of * d* which in his former state he had seen the shadows; and then conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but that now, when he is approaching nearer to being and his eye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer vision,--what will be his reply? and you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and requiring him to name them,--will he not be perplexed? will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now shown to him? far truer. * e* and if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take refuge in the objects of vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be in reality clearer than the things which are now being shown to him? true, he said. [sidenote: when dragged upwards, they would be dazzled by excess of light.] and suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and rugged ascent, and held fast until he is forced into the presence of the sun himself, is he not likely to be * a* pained and irritated? when he approaches the light his eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be able to see anything at all of what are now called realities. not all in a moment, he said. he will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the { } upper world. and first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and other objects in the water, and then the objects themselves; then he will gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven; * b* and he will see the sky and the stars by night better than the sun or the light of the sun by day? certainly. [sidenote: at length they will see the sun and understand his nature.] last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is. certainly. he will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives the season and the years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visible world, and in a certain way the cause of all * c* things which he and his fellows have been accustomed to behold? clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then reason about him. [sidenote: they would then pity their old companions of the den.] and when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them? certainly, he would. and if they were in the habit of conferring honours among themselves on those who were quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark which of them went before, and * d* which followed after, and which were together; and who were therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future, do you think that he would care for such honours and glories, or envy the possessors of them? would he not say with homer, 'better to be the poor servant of a poor master,' and to endure anything, rather than think as they do and live after their manner? * e* yes, he said, i think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner. [sidenote: but when they returned to the den they would see much worse than those who had never left it.] imagine once more, i said, such an one coming suddenly { } out of the sun to be replaced in his old situation; would he not be certain to have his eyes full of darkness? to be sure, he said. and if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measuring the shadows with the prisoners who had never * a* moved out of the den, while his sight was still weak, and before his eyes had become steady (and the time which would be needed to acquire this new habit of sight might be very considerable), would he not be ridiculous? men would say of him that up he went and down he came without his eyes; and that it was better not even to think of ascending; and if any one tried to loose another and lead him up to the light, let them only catch the offender, and they would put him to death. no question, he said. [sidenote: the prison is the world of sight, the light of the fire is the sun.] this entire allegory, i said, you may now append, dear * b* glaucon, to the previous argument; the prison-house is the world of sight, the light of the fire is the sun, and you will not misapprehend me if you interpret the journey upwards to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world according to my poor belief, which, at your desire, i have expressed--whether rightly or wrongly god knows. but, whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen * c* only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth in the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would act rationally either in public or private life must have his eye fixed. i agree, he said, as far as i am able to understand you. moreover, i said, you must not wonder that those who attain to this beatific vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; for their souls are ever hastening into the * d* upper world where they desire to dwell; which desire of theirs is very natural, if our allegory may be trusted. yes, very natural. [sidenote: nothing extraordinary in the philosopher being unable to see in the dark.] and is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine contemplations to the evil state of man, misbehaving { } himself in a ridiculous manner; if, while his eyes are blinking and before he has become accustomed to the surrounding darkness, he is compelled to fight in courts of law, or in other places, about the images or the shadows of images of * e* justice, and is endeavouring to meet the conceptions of those who have never yet seen absolute justice? anything but surprising, he replied. [sidenote: the eyes may be blinded in two ways, by excess or by defect of light.] * a* any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter life, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. * b* and he will count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from above out of the light into the den. that, he said, is a very just distinction. [sidenote: the conversion of the soul is the turning round the eye from darkness to light.] but then, if i am right, certain professors of education must be wrong when they say that they can put a knowledge * c* into the soul which was not there before, like sight into blind eyes. they undoubtedly say this, he replied. whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of learning exists in the soul already; and that just as the eye was unable to turn from darkness to light without the whole body, so too the instrument of knowledge can only by the movement of the whole soul be turned from the world of becoming into that of being, and learn by degrees to endure the sight of being, and of the brightest and best of being, or * d* in other words, of the good. very true. and must there not be some art which will effect conversion in the easiest and quickest manner; not implanting { } the faculty of sight, for that exists already, but has been turned in the wrong direction, and is looking away from the truth? yes, he said, such an art may be presumed. [sidenote: the virtue of wisdom has a divine power which may be turned either towards good or towards evil.] and whereas the other so-called virtues of the soul seem to be akin to bodily qualities, for even when they are not * e* originally innate they can be implanted later by habit and exercise, the virtue of wisdom more than anything else contains a divine element which always remains, and by this conversion is rendered useful and profitable; or, on the other hand, hurtful and useless. did you never observe the narrow * a* intelligence flashing from the keen eye of a clever rogue--how eager he is, how clearly his paltry soul sees the way to his end; he is the reverse of blind, but his keen eye-sight is forced into the service of evil, and he is mischievous in proportion to his cleverness? very true, he said. but what if there had been a circumcision of such natures in the days of their youth; and they had been severed from those sensual pleasures, such as eating and drinking, which, * b* like leaden weights, were attached to them at their birth, and which drag them down and turn the vision of their souls upon the things that are below--if, i say, they had been released from these impediments and turned in the opposite direction, the very same faculty in them would have seen the truth as keenly as they see what their eyes are turned to now. very likely. [sidenote: neither the uneducated nor the overeducated will be good servants of the state.] yes, i said; and there is another thing which is likely, or rather a necessary inference from what has preceded, that neither the uneducated and uninformed of the truth, nor * c* yet those who never make an end of their education, will be able ministers of state; not the former, because they have no single aim of duty which is the rule of all their actions, private as well as public; nor the latter, because they will not act at all except upon compulsion, fancying that they are already dwelling apart in the islands of the blest. very true, he replied. then, i said, the business of us who are the founders of the state will be to compel the best minds to attain that { } knowledge which we have already shown to be the greatest of all--they must continue to ascend until they arrive at the good; * d* but when they have ascended and seen enough we must not allow them to do as they do now. what do you mean? [sidenote: men should ascend to the upper world, but they should also return to the lower.] i mean that they remain in the upper world: but this must not be allowed; they must be made to descend again among the prisoners in the den, and partake of their labours and honours, whether they are worth having or not. but is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give them a worse life, when they might have a better? * e* you have again forgotten, my friend, i said, the intention of the legislator, who did not aim at making any one class in the state happy above the rest; the happiness was to be in the whole state, and he held the citizens together by persuasion and necessity, making them benefactors of the state, * a* and therefore benefactors of one another; to this end he created them, not to please themselves, but to be his instruments in binding up the state. true, he said, i had forgotten. [sidenote: the duties of philosophers.] [sidenote: their obligations to their country will induce them to take part in her government.] observe, glaucon, that there will be no injustice in compelling our philosophers to have a care and providence of others; we shall explain to them that in other states, men * b* of their class are not obliged to share in the toils of politics: and this is reasonable, for they grow up at their own sweet will, and the government would rather not have them. being self-taught, they cannot be expected to show any gratitude for a culture which they have never received. but we have brought you into the world to be rulers of the hive, kings of yourselves and of the other citizens, and have educated you far better and more perfectly than they have been educated, and you are better able to share in the double duty. * c* wherefore each of you, when his turn comes, must go down to the general underground abode, and get the habit of seeing in the dark. when you have acquired the habit, you will see ten thousand times better than the inhabitants of the den, and you will know what the several images are, and what they represent, because you have seen the beautiful and just and good in their truth. and thus our state, which is also yours, will be a reality, and not a dream { } only, and will be administered in a spirit unlike that of other states, in which men fight with one another about shadows only and are distracted in the struggle for power, * d* which in their eyes is a great good. whereas the truth is that the state in which the rulers are most reluctant to govern is always the best and most quietly governed, and the state in which they are most eager, the worst. quite true, he replied. and will our pupils, when they hear this, refuse to take their turn at the toils of state, when they are allowed to spend the greater part of their time with one another in the heavenly light? [sidenote: they will be willing but not anxious to rule.] * e* impossible, he answered; for they are just men, and the commands which we impose upon them are just; there can be no doubt that every one of them will take office as a stern necessity, and not after the fashion of our present rulers of state. [sidenote: the statesman must be provided with a better life than that of a ruler; and then he will not covet office.] yes, my friend, i said; and there lies the point. you * a* must contrive for your future rulers another and a better life than that of a ruler, and then you may have a well-ordered state; for only in the state which offers this, will they rule who are truly rich, not in silver and gold, but in virtue and wisdom, which are the true blessings of life. whereas if they go to the administration of public affairs, poor and hungering after their own private advantage, thinking that hence they are to snatch the chief good, order there can never be; for they will be fighting about office, and the civil and domestic broils which thus arise will be the ruin of the rulers themselves and of the whole state. most true, he replied. * b* and the only life which looks down upon the life of political ambition is that of true philosophy. do you know of any other? indeed, i do not, he said. and those who govern ought not to be lovers of the task? for, if they are, there will be rival lovers, and they will fight. no question. who then are those whom we shall compel to be guardians? surely they will be the men who are wisest about affairs of { } state, and by whom the state is best administered, and who at the same time have other honours and another and a better life than that of politics? they are the men, and i will choose them, he replied. * c* and now shall we consider in what way such guardians will be produced, and how they are to be brought from darkness to light,--as some are said to have ascended from the world below to the gods? by all means, he replied. [sidenote: the training of the guardians.] the process, i said, is not the turning over of an oyster-shell[ ], but the turning round of a soul passing from a day which is little better than night to the true day of being, that is, the ascent from below[ ], which we affirm to be true philosophy? [footnote : in allusion to a game in which two parties fled or pursued according as an oyster-shell which was thrown into the air fell with the dark or light side uppermost.] [footnote : reading [greek: ou)=san e)pa/nodon].] quite so. and should we not enquire what sort of knowledge has the * d* power of effecting such a change? certainly. [sidenote: what knowledge will draw the soul upwards?] what sort of knowledge is there which would draw the soul from becoming to being? and another consideration has just occurred to me: you will remember that our young men are to be warrior athletes? yes, that was said. then this new kind of knowledge must have an additional quality? what quality? usefulness in war. yes, if possible. [sidenote: recapitulation.] there were two parts in our former scheme of education, * e* were there not? [sidenote: there were two parts in our former scheme of education, were there not?] just so. there was gymnastic which presided over the growth and decay of the body, and may therefore be regarded as having to do with generation and corruption? true. * a* then that is not the knowledge which we are seeking to discover? { } no. but what do you say of music, which also entered to a certain extent into our former scheme? music, he said, as you will remember, was the counterpart of gymnastic, and trained the guardians by the influences of habit, by harmony making them harmonious, by rhythm rhythmical, but not giving them science; and the words, whether fabulous or possibly true, had kindred elements of rhythm and harmony in them. but in music there was * b* nothing which tended to that good which you are now seeking. you are most accurate, i said, in your recollection; in music there certainly was nothing of the kind. but what branch of knowledge is there, my dear glaucon, which is of the desired nature; since all the useful arts were reckoned mean by us? undoubtedly; and yet if music and gymnastic are excluded, and the arts are also excluded, what remains? well, i said, there may be nothing left of our special subjects; and then we shall have to take something which is not special, but of universal application. what may that be? [sidenote: there remains for the second education, arithmetic;] * c* a something which all arts and sciences and intelligences use in common, and which every one first has to learn among the elements of education. what is that? the little matter of distinguishing one, two, and three--in a word, number and calculation:--do not all arts and sciences necessarily partake of them? yes. then the art of war partakes of them? to be sure. * d* then palamedes, whenever he appears in tragedy, proves agamemnon ridiculously unfit to be a general. did you never remark how he declares that he had invented number, and had numbered the ships and set in array the ranks of the army at troy; which implies that they had never been numbered before, and agamemnon must be supposed literally to have been incapable of counting his own feet--how could he if he was ignorant of number? and if that is true, what sort of general must he have been? { } i should say a very strange one, if this was as you say. * e* can we deny that a warrior should have a knowledge of arithmetic? certainly he should, if he is to have the smallest understanding of military tactics, or indeed, i should rather say, if he is to be a man at all. i should like to know whether you have the same notion which i have of this study? what is your notion? [sidenote: that being a study which leads naturally to reflection, for] it appears to me to be a study of the kind which we are * a* seeking, and which leads naturally to reflection, but never to have been rightly used; for the true use of it is simply to draw the soul towards being. will you explain your meaning? he said. i will try, i said; and i wish you would share the enquiry with me, and say 'yes' or 'no' when i attempt to distinguish in my own mind what branches of knowledge have this attracting power, in order that we may have clearer proof that arithmetic is, as i suspect, one of them. explain, he said. [sidenote: reflection is aroused by contradictory impressions of sense.] i mean to say that objects of sense are of two kinds; some * b* of them do not invite thought because the sense is an adequate judge of them; while in the case of other objects sense is so untrustworthy that further enquiry is imperatively demanded. you are clearly referring, he said, to the manner in which the senses are imposed upon by distance, and by painting in light and shade. no, i said, that is not at all my meaning. then what is your meaning? when speaking of uninviting objects, i mean those which * c* do not pass from one sensation to the opposite; inviting objects are those which do; in this latter case the sense coming upon the object, whether at a distance or near, gives no more vivid idea of anything in particular than of its opposite. an illustration will make my meaning clearer:--here are three fingers--a little finger, a second finger, and a middle finger. very good. { } you may suppose that they are seen quite close: and here comes the point. what is it? [sidenote: no difficulty in simple perception.] each of them equally appears a finger, whether seen in the * d* middle or at the extremity, whether white or black, or thick or thin--it makes no difference; a finger is a finger all the same. in these cases a man is not compelled to ask of thought the question what is a finger? for the sight never intimates to the mind that a finger is other than a finger. true. and therefore, i said, as we might expect, there is nothing * e* here which invites or excites intelligence. there is not, he said. [sidenote: but the same senses at the same time give different impressions which are at first indistinct and have to be distinguished by the mind.] but is this equally true of the greatness and smallness of the fingers? can sight adequately perceive them? and is no difference made by the circumstance that one of the fingers is in the middle and another at the extremity? and in like manner does the touch adequately perceive the qualities of thickness or thinness, of softness or hardness? and so of the other senses; do they give perfect intimations of such matters? * a* is not their mode of operation on this wise--the sense which is concerned with the quality of hardness is necessarily concerned also with the quality of softness, and only intimates to the soul that the same thing is felt to be both hard and soft? you are quite right, he said. and must not the soul be perplexed at this intimation which the sense gives of a hard which is also soft? what, again, is the meaning of light and heavy, if that which is light is also heavy, and that which is heavy, light? * b* yes, he said, these intimations which the soul receives are very curious and require to be explained. [sidenote: the aid of numbers is invoked in order to remove the confusion.] yes, i said, and in these perplexities the soul naturally summons to her aid calculation and intelligence, that she may see whether the several objects announced to her are one or two. true. and if they turn out to be two, is not each of them one and different? certainly. { } and if each is one, and both are two, she will conceive the * c* two as in a state of division, for if there were undivided they could only be conceived of as one? true. the eye certainly did see both small and great, but only in a confused manner; they were not distinguished. yes. [sidenote: the chaos then begins to be defined.] whereas the thinking mind, intending to light up the chaos, was compelled to reverse the process, and look at small and great as separate and not confused. very true. was not this the beginning of the enquiry 'what is great?' and 'what is small?' exactly so. [sidenote: the parting of the visible and intelligible.] and thus arose the distinction of the visible and the intelligible. * d* most true. this was what i meant when i spoke of impressions which invited the intellect, or the reverse--those which are simultaneous with opposite impressions, invite thought; those which are not simultaneous do not. i understand, he said, and agree with you. and to which class do unity and number belong? i do not know, he replied. [sidenote: thought is aroused by the contradiction of the one and many.] think a little and you will see that what has preceded will supply the answer; for if simple unity could be adequately perceived by the sight or by any other sense, then, * e* as we were saying in the case of the finger, there would be nothing to attract towards being; but when there is some contradiction always present, and one is the reverse of one and involves the conception of plurality, then thought begins to be aroused within us, and the soul perplexed and wanting to arrive at a decision asks 'what is absolute unity?' this * a* is the way in which the study of the one has a power of drawing and converting the mind to the contemplation of true being. and surely, he said, this occurs notably in the case of one; for we see the same thing to be both one and infinite in multitude? yes, i said; and this being true of one must be equally true of all number? { } certainly. and all arithmetic and calculation have to do with number? yes. * b* and they appear to lead the mind towards truth? yes, in a very remarkable manner. [sidenote: arithmetic has a practical and also a philosophical use, the latter the higher.] then this is knowledge of the kind for which we are seeking, having a double use, military and philosophical; for the man of war must learn the art of number or he will not know how to array his troops, and the philosopher also, because he has to rise out of the sea of change and lay hold of true being, and therefore he must be an arithmetician. that is true. and our guardian is both warrior and philosopher? certainly. then this is a kind of knowledge which legislation may fitly prescribe; and we must endeavour to persuade those * c* who are to be the principal men of our state to go and learn arithmetic, not as amateurs, but they must carry on the study until they see the nature of numbers with the mind only; nor again, like merchants or retail-traders, with a view to buying or selling, but for the sake of their military use, and of the soul herself; and because this will be the easiest way for her to pass from becoming to truth and being. that is excellent, he said. yes, i said, and now having spoken of it, i must add * d* how charming the science is! and in how many ways it conduces to our desired end, if pursued in the spirit of a philosopher, and not of a shopkeeper! how do you mean? [sidenote: the higher arithmetic is concerned, not with visible or tangible objects, but with abstract numbers.] i mean, as i was saying, that arithmetic has a very great and elevating effect, compelling the soul to reason about abstract number, and rebelling against the introduction of visible or tangible objects into the argument. you know * e* how steadily the masters of the art repel and ridicule any one who attempts to divide absolute unity when he is calculating, and if you divide, they multiply[ ], taking care that one shall continue one and not become lost in fractions. { } [footnote : meaning either ( ) that they integrate the number because they deny the possibility of fractions; or ( ) that division is regarded by them as a process of multiplication, for the fractions of one continue to be units.] that is very true. * a* now, suppose a person were to say to them: o my friends, what are these wonderful numbers about which you are reasoning, in which, as you say, there is a unity such as you demand, and each unit is equal, invariable, indivisible,--what would they answer? they would answer, as i should conceive, that they were speaking of those numbers which can only be realized in thought. then you see that this knowledge may be truly called * b* necessary, necessitating as it clearly does the use of the pure intelligence in the attainment of pure truth? yes; that is a marked characteristic of it. [sidenote: the arithmetician is naturally quick, and the study of arithmetic gives him still greater quickness.] and have you further observed, that those who have a natural talent for calculation are generally quick at every other kind of knowledge; and even the dull, if they have had an arithmetical training, although they may derive no other advantage from it, always become much quicker than they would otherwise have been. very true, he said. * c* and indeed, you will not easily find a more difficult study, and not many as difficult. you will not. and, for all these reasons, arithmetic is a kind of knowledge in which the best natures should be trained, and which must not be given up. i agree. let this then be made one of our subjects of education. and next, shall we enquire whether the kindred science also concerns us? you mean geometry? exactly so. [sidenote: geometry has practical applications;] * d* clearly, he said, we are concerned with that part of geometry which relates to war; for in pitching a camp, or taking up a position, or closing or extending the lines of an army, or any other military manoeuvre, whether in actual battle or on a march, it will make all the difference whether a general is or is not a geometrician. [sidenote: these however are trifling in comparison with that greater part of the science which tends towards the good,] yes, i said, but for that purpose a very little of either geometry or calculation will be enough; the question relates { } rather to the greater and more advanced part of geometry-- * e* whether that tends in any degree to make more easy the vision of the idea of good; and thither, as i was saying, all things tend which compel the soul to turn her gaze towards that place, where is the full perfection of being, which she ought, by all means, to behold. true, he said. then if geometry compels us to view being, it concerns us; if becoming only, it does not concern us? * a* yes, that is what we assert. yet anybody who has the least acquaintance with geometry will not deny that such a conception of the science is in flat contradiction to the ordinary language of geometricians. how so? they have in view practice only, and are always speaking, in a narrow and ridiculous manner, of squaring and extending and applying and the like--they confuse the necessities of geometry with those of daily life; whereas knowledge is the * b* real object of the whole science. certainly, he said. then must not a further admission be made? what admission? [sidenote: and is concerned with the eternal.] that the knowledge at which geometry aims is knowledge of the eternal, and not of aught perishing and transient. that, he replied, may be readily allowed, and is true. then, my noble friend, geometry will draw the soul towards truth, and create the spirit of philosophy, and raise up that which is now unhappily allowed to fall down. nothing will be more likely to have such an effect. * c* then nothing should be more sternly laid down than that the inhabitants of your fair city should by all means learn geometry. moreover the science has indirect effects, which are not small. of what kind? he said. there are the military advantages of which you spoke, i said; and in all departments of knowledge, as experience proves, any one who has studied geometry is infinitely quicker of apprehension than one who has not. yes indeed, he said, there is an infinite difference between them. { } then shall we propose this as a second branch of knowledge which our youth will study? let us do so, he replied. * d* and suppose we make astronomy the third--what do you say? [sidenote: astronomy, like the previous sciences, is at first praised by glaucon for its practical uses.] i am strongly inclined to it, he said; the observation of the seasons and of months and years is as essential to the general as it is to the farmer or sailor. i am amused, i said, at your fear of the world, which makes you guard against the appearance of insisting upon useless studies; and i quite admit the difficulty of believing that in every man there is an eye of the soul which, when by * e* other pursuits lost and dimmed, is by these purified and re-illumined; and is more precious far than ten thousand bodily eyes, for by it alone is truth seen. now there are two classes of persons: one class of those who will agree with you and will take your words as a revelation; another class * a* to whom they will be utterly unmeaning, and who will naturally deem them to be idle tales, for they see no sort of profit which is to be obtained from them. and therefore you had better decide at once with which of the two you are proposing to argue. you will very likely say with neither, and that your chief aim in carrying on the argument is your own improvement; at the same time you do not grudge to others any benefit which they may receive. i think that i should prefer to carry on the argument mainly on my own behalf. [sidenote: correction of the order.] then take a step backward, for we have gone wrong in the order of the sciences. what was the mistake? he said. after plane geometry, i said, we proceeded at once to * b* solids in revolution, instead of taking solids in themselves; whereas after the second dimension the third, which is concerned with cubes and dimensions of depth, ought to have followed. that is true, socrates; but so little seems to be known as yet about these subjects. [sidenote: the pitiable condition of solid geometry.] why, yes, i said, and for two reasons:--in the first place, no government patronises them; this leads to a want of energy in the pursuit of them, and they are difficult; in the { } second place, students cannot learn them unless they have a director. but then a director can hardly be found, and even * c* if he could, as matters now stand, the students, who are very conceited, would not attend to him. that, however, would be otherwise if the whole state became the director of these studies and gave honour to them; then disciples would want to come, and there would be continuous and earnest search, and discoveries would be made; since even now, disregarded as they are by the world, and maimed of their fair proportions, and although none of their votaries can tell the use of them, still these studies force their way by their natural charm, and very likely, if they had the help of the state, they would some day emerge into light. * d* yes, he said, there is a remarkable charm in them. but i do not clearly understand the change in the order. first you began with a geometry of plane surfaces? yes, i said. and you placed astronomy next, and then you made a step backward? [sidenote: the motion of solids.] yes, and i have delayed you by my hurry; the ludicrous state of solid geometry, which, in natural order, should have followed, made me pass over this branch and go on to * e* astronomy, or motion of solids. true, he said. then assuming that the science now omitted would come into existence if encouraged by the state, let us go on to astronomy, which will be fourth. [sidenote: glaucon grows sentimental about astronomy.] the right order, he replied. and now, socrates, as you rebuked the vulgar manner in which i praised astronomy * a* before, my praise shall be given in your own spirit. for every one, as i think, must see that astronomy compels the soul to look upwards and leads us from this world to another. every one but myself, i said; to every one else this may be clear, but not to me. and what then would you say? i should rather say that those who elevate astronomy into philosophy appear to me to make us look downwards and not upwards. what do you mean? he asked. { } [sidenote: he is rebuked by socrates,] you, i replied, have in your mind a truly sublime conception of our knowledge of the things above. and i dare * b* say that if a person were to throw his head back and study the fretted ceiling, you would still think that his mind was the percipient, and not his eyes. and you are very likely right, and i may be a simpleton: but, in my opinion, that knowledge only which is of being and of the unseen can make the soul look upwards, and whether a man gapes at the heavens or blinks on the ground, seeking to learn some particular of sense, i would deny that he can learn, for * c* nothing of that sort is matter of science; his soul is looking downwards, not upwards, whether his way to knowledge is by water or by land, whether he floats, or only lies on his back. [sidenote: who explains that the higher astronomy is an abstract science.] i acknowledge, he said, the justice of your rebuke. still, i should like to ascertain how astronomy can be learned in any manner more conducive to that knowledge of which we are speaking? i will tell you, i said: the starry heaven which we behold is wrought upon a visible ground, and therefore, * d* although the fairest and most perfect of visible things, must necessarily be deemed inferior far to the true motions of absolute swiftness and absolute slowness, which are relative to each other, and carry with them that which is contained in them, in the true number and in every true figure. now, these are to be apprehended by reason and intelligence, but not by sight. true, he replied. the spangled heavens should be used as a pattern and with a view to that higher knowledge; their beauty is like * e* the beauty of figures or pictures excellently wrought by the hand of daedalus, or some other great artist, which we may chance to behold; any geometrician who saw them would appreciate the exquisiteness of their workmanship, but he would never dream of thinking that in them he could find the true equal or the true double, or the truth of any * a* other proportion. no, he replied, such an idea would be ridiculous. and will not a true astronomer have the same feeling when he looks at the movements of the stars? will he not think that heaven and the things in heaven are framed by the { } creator of them in the most perfect manner? but he will never imagine that the proportions of night and day, or of both to the month, or of the month to the year, or of the * b* stars to these and to one another, and any other things that are material and visible can also be eternal and subject to no deviation--that would be absurd; and it is equally absurd to take so much pains in investigating their exact truth. i quite agree, though i never thought of this before. [sidenote: the real knowledge of astronomy or geometry is to be attained by the use of abstractions.] then, i said, in astronomy, as in geometry, we should employ problems, and let the heavens alone if we would approach the subject in the right way and so make the * c* natural gift of reason to be of any real use. that, he said, is a work infinitely beyond our present astronomers. yes, i said; and there are many other things which must also have a similar extension given to them, if our legislation is to be of any value. but can you tell me of any other suitable study? no, he said, not without thinking. motion, i said, has many forms, and not one only; two of * d* them are obvious enough even to wits no better than ours; and there are others, as i imagine, which may be left to wiser persons. but where are the two? there is a second, i said, which is the counterpart of the one already named. and what may that be? [sidenote: what astronomy is to the eye, harmonics are to the ear.] the second, i said, would seem relatively to the ears to be what the first is to the eyes; for i conceive that as the eyes are designed to look up at the stars, so are the ears to hear harmonious motions; and these are sister sciences--as the pythagoreans say, and we, glaucon, agree with them? yes, he replied. * e* but this, i said, is a laborious study, and therefore we had better go and learn of them; and they will tell us whether there are any other applications of these sciences. at the same time, we must not lose sight of our own higher object. what is that? [sidenote: they must be studied with a view to the good and not after the fashion of the empirics or even of the pythagoreans.] there is a perfection which all knowledge ought to reach, { } and which our pupils ought also to attain, and not to fall short of, as i was saying that they did in astronomy. * a* for in the science of harmony, as you probably know, the same thing happens. the teachers of harmony compare the sounds and consonances which are heard only, and their labour, like that of the astronomers, is in vain. yes, by heaven! he said; and 'tis as good as a play to hear them talking about their condensed notes, as they call them; they put their ears close alongside of the strings like persons catching a sound from their neighbour's wall[ ]--one set of them declaring that they distinguish an intermediate note and have found the least interval which should be the unit of measurement; the others insisting that the two sounds have passed into the same--either party setting * b* their ears before their understanding. [footnote : or, 'close alongside of their neighbour's instruments, as if to catch a sound from them.'] you mean, i said, those gentlemen who tease and torture the strings and rack them on the pegs of the instrument: i might carry on the metaphor and speak after their manner of the blows which the plectrum gives, and make accusations against the strings, both of backwardness and forwardness to sound; but this would be tedious, and therefore i will only say that these are not the men, and that i am referring to the pythagoreans, of whom i was just now proposing to enquire about harmony. for they too are in error, like the * c* astronomers; they investigate the numbers of the harmonies which are heard, but they never attain to problems--that is to say, they never reach the natural harmonies of number, or reflect why some numbers are harmonious and others not. that, he said, is a thing of more than mortal knowledge. a thing, i replied, which i would rather call useful; that is, if sought after with a view to the beautiful and good; but if pursued in any other spirit, useless. very true, he said. [sidenote: all these studies must be correlated with one another.] now, when all these studies reach the point of inter-communion * d* and connection with one another, and come to be considered in their mutual affinities, then, i think, but not till then, will the pursuit of them have a value for our objects; otherwise there is no profit in them. { } i suspect so; but you are speaking, socrates, of a vast work. what do you mean? i said; the prelude or what? do you not know that all this is but the prelude to the actual strain which we have to learn? for you surely would not * e* regard the skilled mathematician as a dialectician? [sidenote: want of reasoning power in mathematicians.] assuredly not, he said; i have hardly ever known a mathematician who was capable of reasoning. but do you imagine that men who are unable to give and take a reason will have the knowledge which we require of them? neither can this be supposed. [sidenote: dialectic proceeds by reason only, without any help of sense.] * a* and so, glaucon, i said, we have at last arrived at the hymn of dialectic. this is that strain which is of the intellect only, but which the faculty of sight will nevertheless be found to imitate; for sight, as you may remember, was imagined by us after a while to behold the real animals and stars, and last of all the sun himself. and so with dialectic; when a person starts on the discovery of the absolute by the light of reason only, and without any assistance of sense, and perseveres * b* until by pure intelligence he arrives at the perception of the absolute good, he at last finds himself at the end of the intellectual world, as in the case of sight at the end of the visible. exactly, he said. then this is the progress which you call dialectic? true. [sidenote: the gradual acquirement of dialectic by the pursuit of the arts anticipated in the allegory of the den.] but the release of the prisoners from chains, and their translation from the shadows to the images and to the light, and the ascent from the underground den to the sun, while in his presence they are vainly trying to look on animals and plants and the light of the sun, but are able to perceive * c* even with their weak eyes the images[ ] in the water (which are divine), and are the shadows of true existence (not shadows of images cast by a light of fire, which compared with the sun is only an image)--this power of elevating the highest principle in the soul to the contemplation of that which is best in existence, with which we may compare the raising of that { } faculty which is the very light of the body to the sight of that which is brightest in the material and visible world--this power is given, as i was saying, by all that study and pursuit * d* of the arts which has been described. [footnote : omitting [greek: e)ntau=tha de\ pro\s phanta/smata]. the word [greek: thei=a] is bracketed by stallbaum.] i agree in what you are saying, he replied, which may be hard to believe, yet, from another point of view, is harder still to deny. this, however, is not a theme to be treated of in passing only, but will have to be discussed again and again. and so, whether our conclusion be true or false, let us assume all this, and proceed at once from the prelude or preamble to the chief strain[ ], and describe that in like manner. say, then, what is the nature and what are the divisions of * e* dialectic, and what are the paths which lead thither; for these paths will also lead to our final rest. [footnote : a play upon the word [greek: no/mos], which means both 'law' and 'strain.'] [sidenote: the nature of dialectic can only be revealed to those who have been students of the preliminary sciences,] * a* dear glaucon, i said, you will not be able to follow me here, though i would do my best, and you should behold not an image only but the absolute truth, according to my notion. whether what i told you would or would not have been a reality i cannot venture to say; but you would have seen something like reality; of that i am confident. doubtless, he replied. but i must also remind you, that the power of dialectic alone can reveal this, and only to one who is a disciple of the previous sciences. of that assertion you may be as confident as of the last. * b* and assuredly no one will argue that there is any other method of comprehending by any regular process all true existence or of ascertaining what each thing is in its own nature; for the arts in general are concerned with the desires or opinions of men, or are cultivated with a view to production and construction, or for the preservation of such productions and constructions; and as to the mathematical sciences which, as we were saying, have some apprehension of true being--geometry and the like--they only dream about * c* being, but never can they behold the waking reality so long as they leave the hypotheses which they use unexamined, and are unable to give an account of them. for when a man knows not his own first principle, and when the conclusion { } and intermediate steps are also constructed out of he knows not what, how can he imagine that such a fabric of convention can ever become science? impossible, he said. [sidenote: which are her handmaids.] then dialectic, and dialectic alone, goes directly to the first principle and is the only science which does away with hypotheses in order to make her ground secure; the eye of * d* the soul, which is literally buried in an outlandish slough, is by her gentle aid lifted upwards; and she uses as handmaids and helpers in the work of conversion, the sciences which we have been discussing. custom terms them sciences, but they ought to have some other name, implying greater clearness than opinion and less clearness than science: and this, in our previous sketch, was called understanding. but why * e* should we dispute about names when we have realities of such importance to consider? why indeed, he said, when any name will do which expresses the thought of the mind with clearness? [sidenote: two divisions of the mind, intellect and opinion, each having two subdivisions.] at any rate, we are satisfied, as before, to have four divisions; two for intellect and two for opinion, and to call the first division science, the second understanding, the third belief, and the fourth perception of shadows, opinion * a* being concerned with becoming, and intellect with being; and so to make a proportion:-- as being is to becoming, so is pure intellect to opinion. and as intellect is to opinion, so is science to belief, and understanding to the perception of shadows. but let us defer the further correlation and subdivision of the subjects of opinion and of intellect, for it will be a long enquiry, many times longer than this has been. * b* as far as i understand, he said, i agree. and do you also agree, i said, in describing the dialectician as one who attains a conception of the essence of each thing? and he who does not possess and is therefore unable to impart this conception, in whatever degree he fails, may in that degree also be said to fail in intelligence? will you admit so much? yes, he said; how can i deny it? [sidenote: no truth which does not rest on the idea of good] and you would say the same of the conception of the good? until the person is able to abstract and define rationally the { } * c* idea of good, and unless he can run the gauntlet of all objections, and is ready to disprove them, not by appeals to opinion, but to absolute truth, never faltering at any step of the argument--unless he can do all this, you would say that he knows neither the idea of good nor any other good; he apprehends only a shadow, if anything at all, which is given by opinion and not by science;--dreaming and slumbering in this life, before he is well awake here, he * d* arrives at the world below, and has his final quietus. in all that i should most certainly agree with you. and surely you would not have the children of your ideal state, whom you are nurturing and educating--if the ideal ever becomes a reality--you would not allow the future rulers to be like posts[ ], having no reason in them, and yet to be set in authority over the highest matters? [footnote : [greek: gramma/s]. literally 'lines,' probably the starting-point of a race-course.] certainly not. then you will make a law that they shall have such an education as will enable them to attain the greatest skill in asking and answering questions? * e* yes, he said, you and i together will make it. [sidenote: ought to have a high place.] dialectic, then, as you will agree, is the coping-stone of the sciences, and is set over them; no other science can be * a* placed higher--the nature of knowledge can no further go? i agree, he said. but to whom we are to assign these studies, and in what way they are to be assigned, are questions which remain to be considered. yes, clearly. you remember, i said, how the rulers were chosen before? certainly, he said. the same natures must still be chosen, and the preference again given to the surest and the bravest, and, if possible, * b* to the fairest; and, having noble and generous tempers, they should also have the natural gifts which will facilitate their education. and what are these? [sidenote: the natural gifts which are required in the dialectician: a towardly understanding; a good memory; strength of character;] such gifts as keenness and ready powers of acquisition; for the mind more often faints from the severity of study { } than from the severity of gymnastics: the toil is more entirely the mind's own, and is not shared with the body. very true, he replied. * c* further, he of whom we are in search should have a good memory, and be an unwearied solid man who is a lover of labour in any line; or he will never be able to endure the great amount of bodily exercise and to go through all the intellectual discipline and study which we require of him. certainly, he said; he must have natural gifts. the mistake at present is, that those who study philosophy have no vocation, and this, as i was before saying, is the reason why she has fallen into disrepute: her true sons should take her by the hand and not bastards. what do you mean? [sidenote: industry;] * d* in the first place, her votary should not have a lame or halting industry--i mean, that he should not be half industrious and half idle: as, for example, when a man is a lover of gymnastic and hunting, and all other bodily exercises, but a hater rather than a lover of the labour of learning or listening or enquiring. or the occupation to which he devotes himself may be of an opposite kind, and he may have the other sort of lameness. certainly, he said. [sidenote: love of truth;] and as to truth, i said, is not a soul equally to be deemed * e* halt and lame which hates voluntary falsehood and is extremely indignant at herself and others when they tell lies, but is patient of involuntary falsehood, and does not mind wallowing like a swinish beast in the mire of ignorance, and has no shame at being detected? to be sure. [sidenote: the moral virtues.] * a* and, again, in respect of temperance, courage, magnificence, and every other virtue, should we not carefully distinguish between the true son and the bastard? for where there is no discernment of such qualities states and individuals unconsciously err; and the state makes a ruler, and the individual a friend, of one who, being defective in some part of virtue, is in a figure lame or a bastard. that is very true, he said. all these things, then, will have to be carefully considered * b* by us; and if only those whom we introduce to this vast { } system of education and training are sound in body and mind, justice herself will have nothing to say against us, and we shall be the saviours of the constitution and of the state; but, if our pupils are men of another stamp, the reverse will happen, and we shall pour a still greater flood of ridicule on philosophy than she has to endure at present. that would not be creditable. [sidenote: socrates plays a little with himself and his subject.] certainly not, i said; and yet perhaps, in thus turning jest into earnest i am equally ridiculous. in what respect? * c* i had forgotten, i said, that we were not serious, and spoke with too much excitement. for when i saw philosophy so undeservedly trampled under foot of men i could not help feeling a sort of indignation at the authors of her disgrace: and my anger made me too vehement. indeed! i was listening, and did not think so. [sidenote: for the study of dialectic the young must be selected.] but i, who am the speaker, felt that i was. and now let me remind you that, although in our former selection we * d* chose old men, we must not do so in this. solon was under a delusion when he said that a man when he grows old may learn many things--for he can no more learn much than he can run much; youth is the time for any extraordinary toil. of course. [sidenote: the preliminary studies should be commenced in childhood, but never forced.] and, therefore, calculation and geometry and all the other elements of instruction, which are a preparation for dialectic, should be presented to the mind in childhood; not, however, under any notion of forcing our system of education. why not? * e* because a freeman ought not to be a slave in the acquisition of knowledge of any kind. bodily exercise, when compulsory, does no harm to the body; but knowledge which is acquired under compulsion obtains no hold on the mind. very true. then, my good friend, i said, do not use compulsion, but * a* let early education be a sort of amusement; you will then be better able to find out the natural bent. that is a very rational notion, he said. do you remember that the children, too, were to be taken { } to see the battle on horseback; and that if there were no danger they were to be brought close up and, like young hounds, have a taste of blood given them? yes, i remember. the same practice may be followed, i said, in all these things--labours, lessons, dangers--and he who is most at home in all of them ought to be enrolled in a select number. * b* at what age? [sidenote: the necessary gymnastics must be completed first.] at the age when the necessary gymnastics are over: the period whether of two or three years which passes in this sort of training is useless for any other purpose; for sleep and exercise are unpropitious to learning; and the trial of who is first in gymnastic exercises is one of the most important tests to which our youth are subjected. certainly, he replied. [sidenote; at twenty years of age the disciples will begin to be taught the correlation of the sciences.] after that time those who are selected from the class of twenty years old will be promoted to higher honour, and the * c* sciences which they learned without any order in their early education will now be brought together, and they will be able to see the natural relationship of them to one another and to true being. yes, he said, that is the only kind of knowledge which takes lasting root. yes, i said; and the capacity for such knowledge is the great criterion of dialectical talent: the comprehensive mind is always the dialectical. i agree with you, he said. [sidenote: at thirty the most promising will be placed in a select class.] these, i said, are the points which you must consider; * d* and those who have most of this comprehension, and who are most steadfast in their learning, and in their military and other appointed duties, when they have arrived at the age of thirty have to be chosen by you out of the select class, and elevated to higher honour; and you will have to prove them by the help of dialectic, in order to learn which of them is able to give up the use of sight and the other senses, and in company with truth to attain absolute being: and here, my friend, great caution is required. why great caution? [sidenote: the growth of scepticism] * e* do you not remark, i said, how great is the evil which dialectic has introduced? { } what evil? he said. the students of the art are filled with lawlessness. quite true, he said. do you think that there is anything so very unnatural or inexcusable in their case? or will you make allowance for them? in what way make allowance? [sidenote: in the minds of the young illustrated by the case of a supposititious son,] i want you, i said, by way of parallel, to imagine a supposititious son who is brought up in great wealth; he * a* is one of a great and numerous family, and has many flatterers. when he grows up to manhood, he learns that his alleged are not his real parents; but who the real are he is unable to discover. can you guess how he will be likely to behave towards his flatterers and his supposed parents, first of all during the period when he is ignorant of the false relation, and then again when he knows? or shall i guess for you? if you please. [sidenote: who ceases to honour his father when he discovers that he is not his father.] then i should say, that while he is ignorant of the truth * b* he will be likely to honour his father and his mother and his supposed relations more than the flatterers; he will be less inclined to neglect them when in need, or to do or say anything against them; and he will be less willing to disobey them in any important matter. he will. but when he has made the discovery, i should imagine that he would diminish his honour and regard for them, and would become more devoted to the flatterers; their influence over him would greatly increase; he would now live after * c* their ways, and openly associate with them, and, unless he were of an unusually good disposition, he would trouble himself no more about his supposed parents or other relations. well, all that is very probable. but how is the image applicable to the disciples of philosophy? in this way: you know that there are certain principles about justice and honour, which were taught us in childhood, and under their parental authority we have been brought up, obeying and honouring them. that is true. * d* there are also opposite maxims and habits of pleasure { } which flatter and attract the soul, but do not influence those of us who have any sense of right, and they continue to obey and honour the maxims of their fathers. true. [sidenote: so men who begin to analyse the first principles of morality cease to respect them.] now, when a man is in this state, and the questioning spirit asks what is fair or honourable, and he answers as the legislator has taught him, and then arguments many and diverse refute his words, until he is driven into believing that nothing is honourable any more than dishonourable, or * e* just and good any more than the reverse, and so of all the notions which he most valued, do you think that he will still honour and obey them as before? impossible. and when he ceases to think them honourable and natural * a* as heretofore, and he fails to discover the true, can he be expected to pursue any life other than that which flatters his desires? he cannot. and from being a keeper of the law he is converted into a breaker of it? unquestionably. now all this is very natural in students of philosophy such as i have described, and also, as i was just now saying, most excusable. yes, he said; and, i may add, pitiable. therefore, that your feelings may not be moved to pity about our citizens who are now thirty years of age, every care must be taken in introducing them to dialectic. certainly. [sidenote: young men are fond of pulling truth to pieces and thus bring disgrace upon themselves and upon philosophy.] * b* there is a danger lest they should taste the dear delight too early; for youngsters, as you may have observed, when they first get the taste in their mouths, argue for amusement, and are always contradicting and refuting others in imitation of those who refute them; like puppy-dogs, they rejoice in pulling and tearing at all who come near them. yes, he said, there is nothing which they like better. and when they have made many conquests and received * c* defeats at the hands of many, they violently and speedily get into a way of not believing anything which they believed before, and hence, not only they, but philosophy and all that { } relates to it is apt to have a bad name with the rest of the world. too true, he said. [sidenote: the dialectician and the eristic.] but when a man begins to get older, he will no longer be guilty of such insanity; he will imitate the dialectician who is seeking for truth, and not the eristic, who is contradicting for the sake of amusement; and the greater moderation of his * d* character will increase instead of diminishing the honour of the pursuit. very true, he said. and did we not make special provision for this, when we said that the disciples of philosophy were to be orderly and steadfast, not, as now, any chance aspirant or intruder? very true. suppose, i said, the study of philosophy to take the place of gymnastics and to be continued diligently and earnestly and exclusively for twice the number of years which were passed in bodily exercise--will that be enough? * e* would you say six or four years? he asked. [sidenote: the study of philosophy to continue for five years; - .] say five years, i replied; at the end of the time they must be sent down again into the den and compelled to hold any military or other office which young men are qualified to hold: in this way they will get their experience of life, and there will be an opportunity of trying whether, when they are drawn all manner of ways by temptation, they will stand firm or flinch. * a* and how long is this stage of their lives to last? [sidenote: during fifteen years, - , they are to hold office.] [sidenote: at the end of that time they are to live chiefly in the contemplation of the good, but occasionally to return to politics.] fifteen years, i answered; and when they have reached fifty years of age, then let those who still survive and have distinguished themselves in every action of their lives and in every branch of knowledge come at last to their consummation: the time has now arrived at which they must raise the eye of the soul to the universal light which lightens all things, and behold the absolute good; for that is the pattern according to which they are to order the state and the * b* lives of individuals, and the remainder of their own lives also; making philosophy their chief pursuit, but, when their turn comes, toiling also at politics and ruling for the public good, not as though they were performing some heroic { } action, but simply as a matter of duty; and when they have brought up in each generation others like themselves and left them in their place to be governors of the state, then they will depart to the islands of the blest and dwell there; and the city will give them public memorials and sacrifices * c* and honour them, if the pythian oracle consent, as demigods, but if not, as in any case blessed and divine. you are a sculptor, socrates, and have made statues of our governors faultless in beauty. yes, i said, glaucon, and of our governesses too; for you must not suppose that what i have been saying applies to men only and not to women as far as their natures can go. there you are right, he said, since we have made them to share in all things like the men. * d* well, i said, and you would agree (would you not?) that what has been said about the state and the government is not a mere dream, and although difficult not impossible, but only possible in the way which has been supposed; that is to say, when the true philosopher kings are born in a state, one or more of them, despising the honours of this present world which they deem mean and worthless, esteeming above all things right and the honour * e* that springs from right, and regarding justice as the greatest and most necessary of all things, whose ministers they are, and whose principles will be exalted by them when they set in order their own city? how will they proceed? [sidenote: practical measures for the speedy foundation of the state.] they will begin by sending out into the country all the * a* inhabitants of the city who are more than ten years old, and will take possession of their children, who will be unaffected by the habits of their parents; these they will train in their own habits and laws, i mean in the laws which we have given them: and in this way the state and constitution of which we were speaking will soonest and most easily attain happiness, and the nation which has such a constitution will gain most. yes, that will be the best way. and i think, socrates, * b* that you have very well described how, if ever, such a constitution might come into being. { } enough then of the perfect state, and of the man who bears its image--there is no difficulty in seeing how we shall describe him. there is no difficulty, he replied; and i agree with you in thinking that nothing more need be said. book viii. [sidenote: _republic viii._ socrates, glaucon.] [sidenote: recapitulation of book v.] * a* and so, glaucon, we have arrived at the conclusion that in the perfect state wives and children are to be in common; and that all education and the pursuits of war and peace are also to be common, and the best philosophers and the bravest warriors are to be their kings? that, replied glaucon, has been acknowledged. * b* yes, i said; and we have further acknowledged that the governors, when appointed themselves, will take their soldiers and place them in houses such as we were describing, which are common to all, and contain nothing private, or individual; and about their property, you remember what we agreed? yes, i remember that no one was to have any of the ordinary possessions of mankind; they were to be warrior * c* athletes and guardians, receiving from the other citizens, in lieu of annual payment, only their maintenance, and they were to take care of themselves and of the whole state. true, i said; and now that this division of our task is concluded, let us find the point at which we digressed, that we may return into the old path. [sidenote: return to the end of book iv.] there is no difficulty in returning; you implied, then as now, that you had finished the description of the state: you said that such a state was good, and that the man was good * d* who answered to it, although, as now appears, you had more * a* excellent things to relate both of state and man. and you said further, that if this was the true form, then the others were false; and of the false forms, you said, as i remember, that there were four principal ones, and that their defects, and the defects of the individuals corresponding to them, were worth examining. when we had seen all the individuals, and finally agreed as to who was the best and who was the worst { } of them, we were to consider whether the best was not also the happiest, and the worst the most miserable. i asked you what were the four forms of government of which * b* you spoke, and then polemarchus and adeimantus put in their word; and you began again, and have found your way to the point at which we have now arrived. your recollection, i said, is most exact. then, like a wrestler, he replied, you must put yourself again in the same position; and let me ask the same questions, and do you give me the same answer which you were about to give me then. yes, if i can, i will, i said. i shall particularly wish to hear what were the four constitutions of which you were speaking. [sidenote: four imperfect constitutions, the cretan or spartan, oligarchy, democracy, tyranny.] * c* that question, i said, is easily answered: the four governments of which i spoke, so far as they have distinct names, are, first, those of crete and sparta, which are generally applauded; what is termed oligarchy comes next; this is not equally approved, and is a form of government which teems with evils: thirdly, democracy, which naturally follows oligarchy, although very different: and lastly comes tyranny, great and famous, which differs from them all, and is the fourth and worst disorder of a state. i do not know, do you? of any other constitution which can be said to have a distinct character. * d* there are lordships and principalities which are bought and sold, and some other intermediate forms of government. but these are nondescripts and may be found equally among hellenes and among barbarians. yes, he replied, we certainly hear of many curious forms of government which exist among them. [sidenote: states are like men, because they are made up of men.] do you know, i said, that governments vary as the dispositions of men vary, and that there must be as many of the one as there are of the other? for we cannot suppose that states are made of 'oak and rock,' and not out of the human natures which are in them, and which in a figure * e* turn the scale and draw other things after them? yes, he said, the states are as the men are; they grow out of human characters. then if the constitutions of states are five, the dispositions of individual minds will also be five? { } certainly. him who answers to aristocracy, and whom we rightly * a* call just and good, we have already described. we have. then let us now proceed to describe the inferior sort of natures, being the contentious and ambitious, who answer to the spartan polity; also the oligarchical, democratical, and tyrannical. let us place the most just by the side of the most unjust, and when we see them we shall be able to compare the relative happiness or unhappiness of him who leads a life of pure justice or pure injustice. the enquiry will then be completed. and we shall know whether we ought to pursue injustice, as thrasymachus advises, or * b* in accordance with the conclusions of the argument to prefer justice. certainly, he replied, we must do as you say. [sidenote: the state and the individual.] shall we follow our old plan, which we adopted with a view to clearness, of taking the state first and then proceeding to the individual, and begin with the government of honour?--i know of no name for such a government other than timocracy, or perhaps timarchy. we will compare with this the like character in the individual; and, after that, * c* consider oligarchy and the oligarchical man; and then again we will turn our attention to democracy and the democratical man; and lastly, we will go and view the city of tyranny, and once more take a look into the tyrant's soul, and try to arrive at a satisfactory decision. that way of viewing and judging of the matter will be very suitable. [sidenote: how timocracy arises out of aristocracy.] first, then, i said, let us enquire how timocracy (the government of honour) arises out of aristocracy (the government * d* of the best). clearly, all political changes originate in divisions of the actual governing power; a government which is united, however small, cannot be moved. very true, he said. in what way, then, will our city be moved, and in what manner will the two classes of auxiliaries and rulers disagree among themselves or with one another? shall we, after the manner of homer, pray the muses to tell us 'how discord * e* first arose'? shall we imagine them in solemn { } mockery, to play and jest with us as if we were children, and to address us in a lofty tragic vein, making believe to be in earnest? how would they address us? [sidenote: the intelligence which is alloyed with sense will not know how to regulate births and deaths in accordance with the number which controls them.] * a* after this manner:--a city which is thus constituted can hardly be shaken; but, seeing that everything which has a beginning has also an end, even a constitution such as yours will not last for ever, but will in time be dissolved. and this is the dissolution:--in plants that grow in the earth, as well as in animals that move on the earth's surface, fertility and sterility of soul and body occur when the circumferences of the circles of each are completed, which in short-lived existences pass over a short space, and in long-lived ones over a long space. but to the knowledge of human fecundity and sterility all the wisdom and education of your rulers will not attain; * b* the laws which regulate them will not be discovered by an intelligence which is alloyed with sense, but will escape them, and they will bring children into the world when they ought not. now that which is of divine birth has a period which is contained in a perfect number,[ ] but the period of human birth is comprehended in a number in which first increments by involution and evolution [_or_ squared and cubed] obtaining three intervals and four terms of like and unlike, waxing and waning numbers, make all the terms * c* commensurable and agreeable to one another.[ ] the base of these ( ) with a third added ( ) when combined with five ( ) and raised to the third power furnishes two harmonies; the first a square which is a hundred times as great ( = x ),[ ] and the other a figure having one side equal to the former, but oblong,[ ] consisting of a hundred numbers squared upon rational diameters of a square (i.e. omitting fractions), the side of which is five ( x = x = ), each of them { } being less by one (than the perfect square which includes the fractions, sc. ) or less by[ ] two perfect squares of irrational diameters (of a square the side of which is five = + = ); and a hundred cubes of three ( x = + + = ). now this number represents a geometrical figure which has control over * d* the good and evil of births. for when your guardians are ignorant of the law of births, and unite bride and bridegroom out of season, the children will not be goodly or fortunate. and though only the best of them will be appointed by their predecessors, still they will be unworthy to hold their fathers' places, and when they come into power as guardians, they will soon be found to fail in taking care of us, the muses, first by under-valuing music; which neglect will soon extend to gymnastic; and hence the young men of your state will be less cultivated. in the succeeding generation rulers will be appointed who have lost the guardian power of testing the metal of your * e* different races, which, like hesiod's, are of gold and silver and brass and iron. and so iron will be mingled with silver, * a* and brass with gold, and hence there will arise dissimilarity and inequality and irregularity, which always and in all places are causes of hatred and war. this the muses affirm to be the stock from which discord has sprung, wherever arising; and this is their answer to us. [footnote : i.e. a cyclical number, such as , which is equal to the sum of its divisors , , , so that when the circle or time represented by is completed, the lesser times or rotations represented by , , are also completed.] [footnote : probably the numbers , , , of which the three first = the sides of the pythagorean triangle. the terms will then be ^ , ^ , ^ , which together = ^ = .] [footnote : or the first a square which is x = , . the whole number will then be , = a square of , and an oblong of by .] [footnote : reading [greek: promê/kê de/].] [footnote : or, 'consisting of two numbers squared upon irrational diameters,' &c. = . for other explanations of the passage see introduction.] yes, and we may assume that they answer truly. why, yes, i said, of course they answer truly; how can the muses speak falsely? * b* and what do the muses say next? [sidenote: then discord arose and individual took the place of common property.] when discord arose, then the two races were drawn different ways: the iron and brass fell to acquiring money and land and houses and gold and silver; but the gold and silver races, not wanting money but having the true riches in their own nature, inclined towards virtue and the ancient order of things. there was a battle between them, and at last they agreed to distribute their land and houses among * c* individual owners; and they enslaved their friends and maintainers, whom they had formerly protected in the condition of freemen, and made of them subjects and servants; and { } they themselves were engaged in war and in keeping a watch against them. i believe that you have rightly conceived the origin of the change. and the new government which thus arises will be of a form intermediate between oligarchy and aristocracy? very true. such will be the change, and after the change has been made, * d* how will they proceed? clearly, the new state, being in a mean between oligarchy and the perfect state, will partly follow one and partly the other, and will also have some peculiarities. true, he said. in the honour given to rulers, in the abstinence of the warrior class from agriculture, handicrafts, and trade in general, in the institution of common meals, and in the attention paid to gymnastics and military training--in all these respects this state will resemble the former. true. [sidenote: timocracy will retain the military and reject the philosophical character of the perfect state.] * e* but in the fear of admitting philosophers to power, because they are no longer to be had simple and earnest, but are made up of mixed elements; and in turning from them to passionate and less complex characters, who are by nature * a* fitted for war rather than peace; and in the value set by them upon military stratagems and contrivances, and in the waging of everlasting wars--this state will be for the most part peculiar. yes. [sidenote: the soldier class miserly and covetous.] yes, i said; and men of this stamp will be covetous of money, like those who live in oligarchies; they will have, a fierce secret longing after gold and silver, which they will hoard in dark places, having magazines and treasuries of their own for the deposit and concealment of them; also castles which are just nests for their eggs, and in which they * b* will spend large sums on their wives, or on any others whom they please. that is most true, he said. and they are miserly because they have no means of openly acquiring the money which they prize; they will spend that which is another man's on the gratification of { } their desires, stealing their pleasures and running away like children from the law, their father: they have been schooled not by gentle influences but by force, for they have neglected her who is the true muse, the companion of reason and * c* philosophy, and have honoured gymnastic more than music. undoubtedly, he said, the form of government which you describe is a mixture of good and evil. [sidenote: the spirit of ambition predominates in such states.] why, there is a mixture, i said; but one thing, and one thing only, is predominantly seen,--the spirit of contention and ambition; and these are due to the prevalence of the passionate or spirited element. assuredly, he said. such is the origin and such the character of this state, which has been described in outline only; the more perfect * d* execution was not required, for a sketch is enough to show the type of the most perfectly just and most perfectly unjust; and to go through all the states and all the characters of men, omitting none of them, would be an interminable labour. very true, he replied. [sidenote: socrates, adeimantus.] [sidenote: the timocratic man, uncultured, but fond of culture, ambitious, contentious, rough with slaves, and courteous to freemen; a soldier, athlete, hunter; a despiser of riches while young, fond of them when he grows old.] now what man answers to this form of government--how did he come into being, and what is he like? i think, said adeimantus, that in the spirit of contention which characterises him, he is not unlike our friend glaucon. * e* perhaps, i said, he may be like him in that one point; but there are other respects in which he is very different. in what respects? he should have more of self-assertion and be less cultivated, and yet a friend of culture; and he should be a good * a* listener, but no speaker. such a person is apt to be rough with slaves, unlike the educated man, who is too proud for that; and he will also be courteous to freemen, and remarkably obedient to authority; he is a lover of power and a lover of honour; claiming to be a ruler, not because he is eloquent, or on any ground of that sort, but because he is a soldier and has performed feats of arms; he is also a lover of gymnastic exercises and of the chase. yes, that is the type of character which answers to timocracy. such an one will despise riches only when he is young; { } * b* but as he gets older he will be more and more attracted to them, because he has a piece of the avaricious nature in him, and is not single-minded towards virtue, having lost his best guardian. who was that? said adeimantus. philosophy, i said, tempered with music, who comes and takes up her abode in a man, and is the only saviour of his virtue throughout life. good, he said. such, i said, is the timocratical youth, and he is like the timocratical state. * c* exactly. his origin is as follows:--he is often the young son of a brave father, who dwells in an ill-governed city, of which he declines the honours and offices, and will not go to law, or exert himself in any way, but is ready to waive his rights in order that he may escape trouble. and how does the son come into being? [sidenote: the timocratic man often originates in a reaction against his father's character, which is encouraged by his mother,] the character of the son begins to develope when he hears his mother complaining that her husband has no place in the government, of which the consequence is that she has * d* no precedence among other women. further, when she sees her husband not very eager about money, and instead of battling and railing in the law courts or assembly, taking whatever happens to him quietly; and when she observes that his thoughts always centre in himself, while he treats her with very considerable indifference, she is annoyed, and says to her son that his father is only half a man and far too easy-going: adding all the other complaints about her own * e* ill-treatment which women are so fond of rehearsing. yes, said adeimantus, they give us plenty of them, and their complaints are so like themselves. [sidenote: and by the old servants of the household.] and you know, i said, that the old servants also, who are supposed to be attached to the family, from time to time talk privately in the same strain to the son; and if they see any one who owes money to his father, or is wronging him in any way, and he fails to prosecute them, they tell the youth that * a* when he grows up he must retaliate upon people of this sort, and be more of a man than his father. he has only to walk abroad and he hears and sees the same sort of thing: those { } who do their own business in the city are called simpletons, and held in no esteem, while the busy-bodies are honoured and applauded. the result is that the young man, hearing and seeing all these things--hearing, too, the words of his father, and having a nearer view of his way of life, and making comparisons of him and others--is drawn opposite ways: * b* while his father is watering and nourishing the rational principle in his soul, the others are encouraging the passionate and appetitive; and he being not originally of a bad nature, but having kept bad company, is at last brought by their joint influence to a middle point, and gives up the kingdom which is within him to the middle principle of contentiousness and passion, and becomes arrogant and ambitious. you seem to me to have described his origin perfectly. * c* then we have now, i said, the second form of government and the second type of character? we have. next, let us look at another man who, as aeschylus says, 'is set over against another state;' or rather, as our plan requires, begin with the state. by all means. [sidenote: oligarchy] i believe that oligarchy follows next in order. and what manner of government do you term oligarchy? a government resting on a valuation of property, in which * d* the rich have power and the poor man is deprived of it. i understand, he replied. ought i not to begin by describing how the change from timocracy to oligarchy arises? yes. well, i said, no eyes are required in order to see how the one passes into the other. how? [sidenote: arises out of increased accumulation and increased expenditure among the citizens.] the accumulation of gold in the treasury of private individuals is the ruin of timocracy; they invent illegal modes of expenditure; for what do they or their wives care about the law? yes, indeed. * e* and then one, seeing another grow rich, seeks to rival { } him, and thus the great mass of the citizens become lovers of money. likely enough. [sidenote: as riches increase, virtue decreases: the one is honoured, the other despised; the one cultivated, the other neglected.] and so they grow richer and richer, and the more they think of making a fortune the less they think of virtue; for when riches and virtue are placed together in the scales of the balance, the one always rises as the other falls. true. * a* and in proportion as riches and rich men are honoured in the state, virtue and the virtuous are dishonoured. clearly. and what is honoured is cultivated, and that which has no honour is neglected. that is obvious. and so at last, instead of loving contention and glory, men become lovers of trade and money; they honour and look up to the rich man, and make a ruler of him, and dishonour the poor man. they do so. [sidenote: in an oligarchy a money qualification is established.] they next proceed to make a law which fixes a sum * b* of money as the qualification of citizenship; the sum is higher in one place and lower in another, as the oligarchy is more or less exclusive; and they allow no one whose property falls below the amount fixed to have any share in the government. these changes in the constitution they effect by force of arms, if intimidation has not already done their work. very true. and this, speaking generally, is the way in which oligarchy is established. yes, he said; but what are the characteristics of this form * c* of government, and what are the defects of which we were speaking[ ]? [footnote : cp. supra, c.] [sidenote: a ruler is elected because he is rich: who would elect a pilot on this principle?] first of all, i said, consider the nature of the qualification. just think what would happen if pilots were to be chosen according to their property, and a poor man were refused permission to steer, even though he were a better pilot? you mean that they would shipwreck? yes; and is not this true of the government of anything[ ]? { } [footnote : omitting [greek: ê)/ tinos].] i should imagine so. except a city?--or would you include a city? nay, he said, the case of a city is the strongest of all, inasmuch as the rule of a city is the greatest and most difficult of all. * d* this, then, will be the first great defect of oligarchy? clearly. and here is another defect which is quite as bad. what defect? [sidenote: the extreme division of classes in such a state.] the inevitable division: such a state is not one, but two states, the one of poor, the other of rich men; and they are living on the same spot and always conspiring against one another. that, surely, is at least as bad. [sidenote: they dare not go to war.] another discreditable feature is, that, for a like reason, they are incapable of carrying on any war. either they arm * e* the multitude, and then they are more afraid of them than of the enemy; or, if they do not call them out in the hour of battle, they are oligarchs indeed, few to fight as they are few to rule. and at the same time their fondness for money makes them unwilling to pay taxes. how discreditable! and, as we said before, under such a constitution the * a* same persons have too many callings--they are husbandmen, tradesmen, warriors, all in one. does that look well? anything but well. there is another evil which is, perhaps, the greatest of all, and to which this state first begins to be liable. what evil? [sidenote: the ruined man, who has no occupation, once a spendthrift, now a pauper, still exists in the state.] a man may sell all that he has, and another may acquire his property; yet after the sale he may dwell in the city of which he is no longer a part, being neither trader, nor artisan, nor horseman, nor hoplite, but only a poor, helpless creature. * b* yes, that is an evil which also first begins in this state. the evil is certainly not prevented there; for oligarchies have both the extremes of great wealth and utter poverty. true. but think again: in his wealthy days, while he was spending his money, was a man of this sort a whit more good to the state for the purposes of citizenship? or { } did he only seem to be a member of the ruling body, although in truth he was neither ruler nor subject, but just a spendthrift? * c* as you say, he seemed to be a ruler, but was only a spendthrift. may we not say that this is the drone in the house who is like the drone in the honeycomb, and that the one is the plague of the city as the other is of the hive? just so, socrates. and god has made the flying drones, adeimantus, all without stings, whereas of the walking drones he has made some without stings but others have dreadful stings; of the stingless class are those who in their old age end as paupers; * d* of the stingers come all the criminal class, as they are termed. most true, he said. [sidenote: where there are paupers, there are thieves] clearly then, whenever you see paupers in a state, somewhere in that neighbourhood there are hidden away thieves, and cut-purses and robbers of temples, and all sorts of malefactors. clearly. well, i said, and in oligarchical states do you not find paupers? yes, he said; nearly everybody is a pauper who is not a ruler. [sidenote: and other criminals.] * e* and may we be so bold as to affirm that there are also many criminals to be found in them, rogues who have stings, and whom the authorities are careful to restrain by force? certainly, we may be so bold. the existence of such persons is to be attributed to want of education, ill-training, and an evil constitution of the state? true. such, then, is the form and such are the evils of oligarchy; and there may be many other evils. very likely. * a* then oligarchy, or the form of government in which the rulers are elected for their wealth, may now be dismissed. let us next proceed to consider the nature and origin of the individual who answers to this state. { } by all means. does not the timocratical man change into the oligarchical on this wise? how? [sidenote: the ruin of the timocratical man gives birth to the oligarchical.] a time arrives when the representative of timocracy has a son: at first he begins by emulating his father and walking in his footsteps, but presently he sees him of a sudden * b* foundering against the state as upon a sunken reef, and he and all that he has is lost; he may have been a general or some other high officer who is brought to trial under a prejudice raised by informers, and either put to death, or exiled, or deprived of the privileges of a citizen, and all his property taken from him. nothing more likely. [sidenote: his son begins life a ruined man and takes to money-making.] and the son has seen and known all this--he is a ruined man, and his fear has taught him to knock ambition and * c* passion headforemost from his bosom's throne; humbled by poverty he takes to money-making and by mean and miserly savings and hard work gets a fortune together. is not such an one likely to seat the concupiscent and covetous element on the vacant throne and to suffer it to play the great king within him, girt with tiara and chain and scimitar? most true, he replied. * d* and when he has made reason and spirit sit down on the ground obediently on either side of their sovereign, and taught them to know their place, he compels the one to think only of how lesser sums may be turned into larger ones, and will not allow the other to worship and admire anything but riches and rich men, or to be ambitious of anything so much as the acquisition of wealth and the means of acquiring it. of all changes, he said, there is none so speedy or so sure as the conversion of the ambitious youth into the avaricious one. * e* and the avaricious, i said, is the oligarchical youth? [sidenote: the oligarchical man and state resemble one another in their estimation of wealth: in their toiling and saving ways, in their want of cultivation.] yes, he said; at any rate the individual out of whom he came is like the state out of which oligarchy came. let us then consider whether there is any likeness between them. * a* very good. first, then, they resemble one another in the value which they set upon wealth? { } certainly. also in their penurious, laborious character; the individual only satisfies his necessary appetites, and confines his expenditure to them; his other desires he subdues, under the idea that they are unprofitable. true. he is a shabby fellow, who saves something out of everything and makes a purse for himself; and this is the sort of * b* man whom the vulgar applaud. is he not a true image of the state which he represents? he appears to me to be so; at any rate money is highly valued by him as well as by the state. you see that he is not a man of cultivation, i said. i imagine not, he said; had he been educated he would never have made a blind god director of his chorus, or given him chief honour[ ]. [footnote : reading [greek: kai\ e)ti/ma ma/lista. eu)=, ê)= d' e)gô/], according to schneider's excellent emendation.] excellent! i said. yet consider: must we not further admit that owing to this want of cultivation there will be * c* found in him dronelike desires as of pauper and rogue, which are forcibly kept down by his general habit of life? true. do you know where you will have to look if you want to discover his rogueries? where must i look? [sidenote: the oligarchical man keeps up a fair outside, but he has only an enforced virtue and will cheat when he can.] you should see him where he has some great opportunity of acting dishonestly, as in the guardianship of an orphan. aye. it will be clear enough then that in his ordinary dealings which give him a reputation for honesty he coerces his bad * d* passions by an enforced virtue; not making them see that they are wrong, or taming them by reason, but by necessity and fear constraining them, and because he trembles for his possessions. to be sure. yes, indeed, my dear friend, but you will find that the natural desires of the drone commonly exist in him all the same whenever he has to spend what is not his own. { } yes, and they will be strong in him too. the man, then, will be at war with himself; he will be two men, and not one; but, in general, his better desires * e* will be found to prevail over his inferior ones. true. for these reasons such an one will be more respectable than most people; yet the true virtue of a unanimous and harmonious soul will flee far away and never come near him. i should expect so. [sidenote: his meanness in a contest; he saves his money and loses the prize.] * a* and surely, the miser individually will be an ignoble competitor in a state for any prize of victory, or other object of honourable ambition; he will not spend his money in the contest for glory; so afraid is he of awakening his expensive appetites and inviting them to help and join in the struggle; in true oligarchical fashion he fights with a small part only of his resources, and the result commonly is that he loses the prize and saves his money. very true. can we any longer doubt, then, that the miser and money-maker * b* answers to the oligarchical state? there can be no doubt. [sidenote: democracy arises out of the extravagance and indebtedness of men of family and position,] next comes democracy; of this the origin and nature have still to be considered by us; and then we will enquire into the ways of the democratic man, and bring him up for judgment. that, he said, is our method. well, i said, and how does the change from oligarchy into democracy arise? is it not on this wise?--the good at which such a state aims is to become as rich as possible, a desire which is insatiable? what then? * c* the rulers, being aware that their power rests upon their wealth, refuse to curtail by law the extravagance of the spendthrift youth because they gain by their ruin; they take interest from them and buy up their estates and thus increase their own wealth and importance? to be sure. there can be no doubt that the love of wealth and the spirit of moderation cannot exist together in citizens of the same state to any considerable extent; one or the other will * d* be disregarded. { } that is tolerably clear. and in oligarchical states, from the general spread of carelessness and extravagance, men of good family have often been reduced to beggary? yes, often. [sidenote: who remain in the city, and form a dangerous class ready to head a revolution.] and still they remain in the city; there they are, ready to sting and fully armed, and some of them owe money, some have forfeited their citizenship; a third class are in both predicaments; and they hate and conspire against those who have got their property, and against everybody else, and are * e* eager for revolution. that is true. on the other hand, the men of business, stooping as they walk, and pretending not even to see those whom they have already ruined, insert their sting--that is, their money--into some one else who is not on his guard against them, and recover the parent sum many times over multiplied into a family of children: and so they make drone and pauper to abound in the state. * a* yes, he said, there are plenty of them--that is certain. [sidenote: two remedies: ( ) restrictions on the free use of property;] the evil blazes up like a fire; and they will not extinguish it, either by restricting a man's use of his own property, or by another remedy: what other? [sidenote: ( ) contracts to be made at a man's own risk.] one which is the next best, and has the advantage of compelling the citizens to look to their characters:--let * b* there be a general rule that every one shall enter into voluntary contracts at his own risk, and there will be less of this scandalous money-making, and the evils of which we were speaking will be greatly lessened in the state. yes, they will be greatly lessened. at present the governors, induced by the motives which i have named, treat their subjects badly; while they and their adherents, especially the young men of the governing class, are habituated to lead a life of luxury and idleness * c* both of body and mind; they do nothing, and are incapable of resisting either pleasure or pain. very true. they themselves care only for making money, and are as indifferent as the pauper to the cultivation of virtue. { } yes, quite as indifferent. [sidenote: the subjects discover the weakness of their rulers.] such is the state of affairs which prevails among them. and often rulers and their subjects may come in one another's way, whether on a journey or on some other occasion of meeting, on a pilgrimage or a march, as fellow-soldiers or * d* fellow-sailors; aye and they may observe the behaviour of each other in the very moment of danger--for where danger is, there is no fear that the poor will be despised by the rich--and very likely the wiry sunburnt poor man may be placed in battle at the side of a wealthy one who has never spoilt his complexion and has plenty of superfluous flesh--when he sees such an one puffing and at his wits' end, how can he avoid drawing the conclusion that men like him are only rich because no one has the courage to despoil them? and when they meet in private will not people be * e* saying to one another 'our warriors are not good for much'? yes, he said, i am quite aware that this is their way of talking. [sidenote: a slight cause, internal or external, may produce revolution.] and, as in a body which is diseased the addition of a touch from without may bring on illness, and sometimes even when there is no external provocation a commotion may arise within--in the same way wherever there is weakness in the state there is also likely to be illness, of which the occasion may be very slight, the one party introducing from without their oligarchical, the other their democratical allies, and then the state falls sick, and is at war with herself; and * a* may be at times distracted, even when there is no external cause. yes, surely. [sidenote: such is the origin and nature of democracy.] and then democracy comes into being after the poor have conquered their opponents, slaughtering some and banishing some, while to the remainder they give an equal share of freedom and power; and this is the form of government in which the magistrates are commonly elected by lot. yes, he said, that is the nature of democracy, whether the revolution has been effected by arms, or whether fear has caused the opposite party to withdraw. and now what is their manner of life, and what sort of * b* a government have they? for as the government is, such will be the man. clearly, he said. { } [sidenote: democracy allows a man to do as he likes, and therefore contains the greatest variety of characters and constitutions.] in the first place, are they not free; and is not the city full of freedom and frankness--a man may say and do what he likes? 'tis said so, he replied. and where freedom is, the individual is clearly able to order for himself his own life as he pleases? clearly. * c* then in this kind of state there will be the greatest variety of human natures? there will. this, then, seems likely to be the fairest of states, being like an embroidered robe which is spangled with every sort of flower[ ]. and just as women and children think a variety of colours to be of all things most charming, so there are many men to whom this state, which is spangled with the manners and characters of mankind, will appear to be the fairest of states. [footnote : omitting [greek: ti/ mê/n; e)/phê].] yes. * d* yes, my good sir, and there will be no better in which to look for a government. why? because of the liberty which reigns there--they have a complete assortment of constitutions; and he who has a mind to establish a state, as we have been doing, must go to a democracy as he would to a bazaar at which they sell them, and pick out the one that suits him; then, when he has made his choice, he may found his state. * e* he will be sure to have patterns enough. [sidenote: the law falls into abeyance.] and there being no necessity, i said, for you to govern in this state, even if you have the capacity, or to be governed, unless you like, or go to war when the rest go to war, or to be at peace when others are at peace, unless you are so disposed--there being no necessity also, because some law forbids you to hold office or be a dicast, that you should not hold office or be a dicast, if you have a fancy--is not * a* this a way of life which for the moment is supremely delightful? for the moment, yes. { } and is not their humanity to the condemned[ ] in some cases quite charming? have you not observed how, in a democracy, many persons, although they have been sentenced to death or exile, just stay where they are and walk about the world--the gentleman parades like a hero, and nobody sees or cares? [footnote : or, 'the philosophical temper of the condemned.'] yes, he replied, many and many a one. [sidenote: all principles of order and good taste are trampled under foot by democracy.] * b* see too, i said, the forgiving spirit of democracy, and the 'don't care' about trifles, and the disregard which she shows of all the fine principles which we solemnly laid down at the foundation of the city--as when we said that, except in the case of some rarely gifted nature, there never will be a good man who has not from his childhood been used to play amid things of beauty and make of them a joy and a study--how grandly does she trample all these fine notions of ours under her feet, never giving a thought to the pursuits which make a statesman, and promoting to honour any one who professes * c* to be the people's friend. yes, she is of a noble spirit. these and other kindred characteristics are proper to democracy, which is a charming form of government, full of variety and disorder, and dispensing a sort of equality to equals and unequals alike. we know her well. consider now, i said, what manner of man the individual is, or rather consider, as in the case of the state, how he comes into being. very good, he said. is not this the way--he is the son of the miserly and oligarchical * d* father who has trained him in his own habits? exactly. [sidenote: which are the necessary and which the unnecessary pleasures?] and, like his father, he keeps under by force the pleasures which are of the spending and not of the getting sort, being those which are called unnecessary? obviously. would you like, for the sake of clearness, to distinguish which are the necessary and which are the unnecessary pleasures? i should. { } [sidenote: necessary desires cannot be got rid of,] are not necessary pleasures those of which we cannot get * e* rid, and of which the satisfaction is a benefit to us? and they are rightly called so, because we are framed by nature to desire both what is beneficial and what is necessary, and cannot help it. true. * a* we are not wrong therefore in calling them necessary? we are not. and the desires of which a man may get rid, if he takes pains from his youth upwards--of which the presence, moreover, does no good, and in some cases the reverse of good--shall we not be right in saying that all these are unnecessary? yes, certainly. suppose we select an example of either kind, in order that we may have a general notion of them? very good. will not the desire of eating, that is, of simple food and condiments, in so far as they are required for health and * b* strength, be of the necessary class? that is what i should suppose. the pleasure of eating is necessary in two ways; it does us good and it is essential to the continuance of life? yes. [sidenote: but may be indulged to excess.] but the condiments are only necessary in so far as they are good for health? certainly. [sidenote: illustration taken from eating and drinking.] and the desire which goes beyond this, of more delicate food, or other luxuries, which might generally be got rid of, if controlled and trained in youth, and is hurtful to the body, and hurtful to the soul in the pursuit of wisdom and virtue, may be * c* rightly called unnecessary? very true. may we not say that these desires spend, and that the others make money because they conduce to production? certainly. and of the pleasures of love, and all other pleasures, the same holds good? true. and the drone of whom we spoke was he who was surfeited in pleasures and desires of this sort, and was the slave { } * d* of the unnecessary desires, whereas he who was subject to the necessary only was miserly and oligarchical? very true. again, let us see how the democratical man grows out of the oligarchical: the following, as i suspect, is commonly the process. what is the process? [sidenote: the young oligarch is led away by his wild associates.] when a young man who has been brought up as we were just now describing, in a vulgar and miserly way, has tasted drones' honey and has come to associate with fierce and crafty natures who are able to provide for him all sorts of refinements and varieties of pleasure--then, as you may * e* imagine, the change will begin of the oligarchical principle within him into the democratical? inevitably. [sidenote: there are allies to either part of his nature.] and as in the city like was helping like, and the change was effected by an alliance from without assisting one division of the citizens, so too the young man is changed by a class of desires coming from without to assist the desires within him, that which is akin and alike again helping that which is akin and alike? certainly. and if there be any ally which aids the oligarchical principle within him, whether the influence of a father or of kindred, * a* advising or rebuking him, then there arises in his soul a faction and an opposite faction, and he goes to war with himself. it must be so. and there are times when the democratical principle gives way to the oligarchical, and some of his desires die, and others are banished; a spirit of reverence enters into the young man's soul and order is restored. yes, he said, that sometimes happens. and then, again, after the old desires have been driven out, * b* fresh ones spring up, which are akin to them, and because he their father does not know how to educate them, wax fierce and numerous. yes, he said, that is apt to be the way. they draw him to his old associates, and holding secret intercourse with them, breed and multiply in him. { } very true. at length they seize upon the citadel of the young man's soul, which they perceive to be void of all accomplishments and fair pursuits and true words, which make their abode in the minds of men who are dear to the gods, and are their best guardians and sentinels. * c* none better. false and boastful conceits and phrases mount upwards and take their place. they are certain to do so. [sidenote: the progress of the oligarchic young man told in an allegory.] and so the young man returns into the country of the lotus-eaters, and takes up his dwelling there in the face of all men; and if any help be sent by his friends to the oligarchical part of him, the aforesaid vain conceits shut the gate of the king's fastness; and they will neither allow the embassy itself to enter, nor if private advisers offer the fatherly counsel of the aged will they listen to them or receive them. * d* there is a battle and they gain the day, and then modesty, which they call silliness, is ignominiously thrust into exile by them, and temperance, which they nickname unmanliness, is trampled in the mire and cast forth; they persuade men that moderation and orderly expenditure are vulgarity and meanness, and so, by the help of a rabble of evil appetites, they drive them beyond the border. yes, with a will. and when they have emptied and swept clean the soul of * e* him who is now in their power and who is being initiated by them in great mysteries, the next thing is to bring back to their house insolence and anarchy and waste and impudence in bright array having garlands on their heads, and a great company with them, hymning their praises and calling * a* them by sweet names; insolence they term breeding, and anarchy liberty, and waste magnificence, and impudence courage. and so the young man passes out of his original nature, which was trained in the school of necessity, into the freedom and libertinism of useless and unnecessary pleasures. yes, he said, the change in him is visible enough. [sidenote: he becomes a rake; but he also sometimes stops short in his career and gives way to pleasures good and bad indifferently.] after this he lives on, spending his money and labour and time on unnecessary pleasures quite as much as on necessary { } ones; but if he be fortunate, and is not too much disordered in his wits, when years have elapsed, and the heyday of * b* passion is over--supposing that he then re-admits into the city some part of the exiled virtues, and does not wholly give himself up to their successors--in that case he balances his pleasures and lives in a sort of equilibrium, putting the government of himself into the hands of the one which comes first and wins the turn; and when he has had enough of that, then into the hands of another; he despises none of them but encourages them all equally. very true, he said. [sidenote: he rejects all advice,] neither does he receive or let pass into the fortress any true word of advice; if any one says to him that some * c* pleasures are the satisfactions of good and noble desires, and others of evil desires, and that he ought to use and honour some and chastise and master the others --whenever this is repeated to him he shakes his head and says that they are all alike, and that one is as good as another. yes, he said; that is the way with him. [sidenote: passing his life in the alternation from one extreme to another.] yes, i said, he lives from day to day indulging the appetite of the hour; and sometimes he is lapped in drink and strains of the flute; then he becomes a water-drinker, and tries to get thin; * d* then he takes a turn at gymnastics; sometimes idling and neglecting everything, then once more living the life of a philosopher; often he is busy with politics, and starts to his feet and says and does whatever comes into his head; and, if he is emulous of any one who is a warrior, off he is in that direction, or of men of business, once more in that. his life has neither law nor order; and this distracted existence he terms joy and bliss and freedom; and so he goes on. * e* yes, he replied, he is all liberty and equality. [sidenote: he is 'not one, but all mankind's epitome.'] yes, i said; his life is motley and manifold and an epitome of the lives of many;--he answers to the state which we described as fair and spangled. and many a man and many a woman will take him for their pattern, and many a constitution and many an example of manners is contained in him. just so. * a* let him then be set over against democracy; he may truly be called the democratic man. { } let that be his place, he said. [sidenote: tyranny and the tyrant.] last of all comes the most beautiful of all, man and state alike, tyranny and the tyrant; these we have now to consider. quite true, he said. say then, my friend, in what manner does tyranny arise?--that it has a democratic origin is evident. clearly. and does not tyranny spring from democracy in the * b* same manner as democracy from oligarchy--i mean, after a sort? how? [sidenote: the insatiable desire of wealth creates a demand for democracy, the insatiable desire of freedom creates a demand for tyranny.] the good which oligarchy proposed to itself and the means by which it was maintained was excess of wealth--am i not right? yes. and the insatiable desire of wealth and the neglect of all other things for the sake of money-getting was also the ruin of oligarchy? true. and democracy has her own good, of which the insatiable desire brings her to dissolution? what good? freedom, i replied; which, as they tell you in a democracy, * c* is the glory of the state--and that therefore in a democracy alone will the freeman of nature deign to dwell. yes; the saying is in every body's mouth. i was going to observe, that the insatiable desire of this and the neglect of other things introduces the change in democracy, which occasions a demand for tyranny. how so? when a democracy which is thirsting for freedom has evil * d* cup-bearers presiding over the feast, and has drunk too deeply of the strong wine of freedom, then, unless her rulers are very amenable and give a plentiful draught, she calls them to account and punishes them, and says that they are cursed oligarchs. yes, he replied, a very common occurrence. [sidenote: freedom in the end means anarchy.] yes, i said; and loyal citizens are insultingly termed by her slaves who hug their chains and men of naught; she would have subjects who are like rulers, and rulers who are { } like subjects: these are men after her own heart, whom she praises and honours both in private and public. now, in * e* such a state, can liberty have any limit? certainly not. by degrees the anarchy finds a way into private houses, and ends by getting among the animals and infecting them. how do you mean? i mean that the father grows accustomed to descend to the level of his sons and to fear them, and the son is on a level with his father, he having no respect or reverence for either of his parents; and this is his freedom, and the metic is equal with the citizen and the citizen with the metic, and the * a* stranger is quite as good as either. yes, he said, that is the way. [sidenote: the inversion of all social relations.] and these are not the only evils, i said--there are several lesser ones: in such a state of society the master fears and flatters his scholars, and the scholars despise their masters and tutors; young and old are all alike; and the young man is on a level with the old, and is ready to compete with him in word or deed; and old men condescend to the young and are full of pleasantry and gaiety; they are loth to be * b* thought morose and authoritative, and therefore they adopt the manners of the young. quite true, he said. the last extreme of popular liberty is when the slave bought with money, whether male or female, is just as free as his or her purchaser; nor must i forget to tell of the liberty and equality of the two sexes in relation to each other. * c* why not, as aeschylus says, utter the word which rises to our lips? [sidenote: freedom among the animals.] that is what i am doing, i replied; and i must add that no one who does not know would believe, how much greater is the liberty which the animals who are under the dominion of man have in a democracy than in any other state: for truly, the she-dogs, as the proverb says, are as good as their she-mistresses, and the horses and asses have a way of marching along with all the rights and dignities of freemen; and they will run at any body who comes in their way if he does not leave the road clear for them: and all things are * d* just ready to burst with liberty. { } when i take a country walk, he said, i often experience what you describe. you and i have dreamed the same thing. [sidenote: no law, no authority.] and above all, i said, and as the result of all, see how sensitive the citizens become; they chafe impatiently at the least touch of authority, and at length, as you know, they cease to care even for the laws, written or unwritten; they will have * e* no one over them. yes, he said, i know it too well. such, my friend, i said, is the fair and glorious beginning out of which springs tyranny. glorious indeed, he said. but what is the next step? the ruin of oligarchy is the ruin of democracy; the same disease magnified and intensified by liberty overmasters democracy--the truth being that the excessive * a* increase of anything often causes a reaction in the opposite direction; and this is the case not only in the seasons and in vegetable and animal life, but above all in forms of government. true. the excess of liberty, whether in states or individuals, seems only to pass into excess of slavery. yes, the natural order. and so tyranny naturally arises out of democracy, and the most aggravated form of tyranny and slavery out of the most extreme form of liberty? as we might expect. [sidenote: the common evil of oligarchy and democracy is the class of idle spend-thrifts.] that, however, was not, as i believe, your question--you rather desired to know what is that disorder which is * b* generated alike in oligarchy and democracy, and is the ruin of both? just so, he replied. well, i said, i meant to refer to the class of idle spendthrifts, of whom the more courageous are the leaders and the more timid the followers, the same whom we were comparing to drones, some stingless, and others having stings. a very just comparison. [sidenote: illustration.] these two classes are the plagues of every city in which they are generated, being what phlegm and bile are to the body. * c* and the good physician and lawgiver of the state { } ought, like the wise bee-master, to keep them at a distance and prevent, if possible, their ever coming in; and if they have anyhow found a way in, then he should have them and their cells cut out as speedily as possible. yes, by all means, he said. [sidenote: altogether three classes in a democracy.] then, in order that we may see clearly what we are doing, let us imagine democracy to be divided, as indeed it is, into * d* three classes; for in the first place freedom creates rather more drones in the democratic than there were in the oligarchical state. that is true. and in the democracy they are certainly more intensified. how so? [sidenote: ( ) the drones or spend-thrifts who are more numerous and active than in the oligarchy.] because in the oligarchical state they are disqualified and driven from office, and therefore they cannot train or gather strength; whereas in a democracy they are almost the entire ruling power, and while the keener sort speak and act, the rest keep buzzing about the bema and do * e* not suffer a word to be said on the other side; hence in democracies almost everything is managed by the drones. very true, he said. then there is another class which is always being severed from the mass. what is that? [sidenote: ( ) the orderly or wealthy class who are fed upon by the drones.] they are the orderly class, which in a nation of traders is sure to be the richest. naturally so. they are the most squeezable persons and yield the largest amount of honey to the drones. why, he said, there is little to be squeezed out of people who have little. and this is called the wealthy class, and the drones feed upon them. * a* that is pretty much the case, he said. [sidenote: ( ) the working class who also get a share.] the people are a third class, consisting of those who work with their own hands; they are not politicians, and have not much to live upon. this, when assembled, is the largest and most powerful class in a democracy. true, he said; but then the multitude is seldom willing to congregate unless they get a little honey. { } and do they not share? i said. do not their leaders deprive the rich of their estates and distribute them among the people; at the same time taking care to reserve the larger part for themselves? * b* why, yes, he said, to that extent the people do share. [sidenote: the well-to-do have to defend themselves against the people.] and the persons whose property is taken from them are compelled to defend themselves before the people as they best can? what else can they do? and then, although they may have no desire of change, the others charge them with plotting against the people and being friends of oligarchy? true. and the end is that when they see the people, not of their own accord, but through ignorance, and because they are * c* deceived by informers, seeking to do them wrong, then at last they are forced to become oligarchs in reality; they do not wish to be, but the sting of the drones torments them and breeds revolution in them. that is exactly the truth. then come impeachments and judgments and trials of one another. true. [sidenote: the people have a protector who, when once he tastes blood, is converted into a tyrant.] the people have always some champion whom they set over them and nurse into greatness. yes, that is their way. * d* this and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he first appears above ground he is a protector. yes, that is quite clear. how then does a protector begin to change into a tyrant? clearly when he does what the man is said to do in the tale of the arcadian temple of lycaean zeus. what tale? the tale is that he who has tasted the entrails of a single human victim minced up with the entrails of other victims is * e* destined to become a wolf. did you never hear it? oh, yes. and the protector of the people is like him; having a mob entirely at his disposal, he is not restrained from shedding the blood of kinsmen; by the favourite method of false accusation he brings them into court and murders them, { } making the life of man to disappear, and with unholy tongue and lips tasting the blood of his fellow citizens; some he kills and others he banishes, at the same time hinting at the abolition of debts and partition of lands: and after this, what * a* will be his destiny? must he not either perish at the hands of his enemies, or from being a man become a wolf--that is, a tyrant? inevitably. this, i said, is he who begins to make a party against the rich? the same. [sidenote: after a time he is driven out, but comes back a full-blown tyrant.] after a while he is driven out, but comes back, in spite of his enemies, a tyrant full grown. that is clear. * b* and if they are unable to expel him, or to get him condemned to death by a public accusation, they conspire to assassinate him. yes, he said, that is their usual way. [sidenote: the body-guard.] then comes the famous request for a body-guard, which is the device of all those who have got thus far in their tyrannical career--'let not the people's friend,' as they say, 'be lost to them.' exactly. the people readily assent; all their fears are for him--they have none for themselves. * c* very true. and when a man who is wealthy and is also accused of being an enemy of the people sees this, then, my friend, as the oracle said to croesus, 'by pebbly hermus' shore he flees and rests not, and is not ashamed to be a coward[ ].' [footnote : herod. i. .] and quite right too, said he, for if he were, he would never be ashamed again. but if he is caught he dies. of course. [sidenote: the protector standing up in the chariot of state.] * d* and he, the protector of whom we spoke, is to be seen, not 'larding the plain' with his bulk, but himself the overthrower of many, standing up in the chariot of state with the reins in his hand, no longer protector, but tyrant absolute. { } no doubt, he said. and now let us consider the happiness of the man, and also of the state in which a creature like him is generated. yes, he said, let us consider that. at first, in the early days of his power, he is full of smiles, and he salutes every one whom he meets;--he to be called * e* a tyrant, who is making promises in public and also in private! liberating debtors, and distributing land to the people and his followers, and wanting to be so kind and good to every one! of course, he said. [sidenote: he stirs up wars, and impoverishes his subjects by the imposition of taxes.] but when he has disposed of foreign enemies by conquest or treaty, and there is nothing to fear from them, then he is always stirring up some war or other, in order that the people may require a leader. to be sure. * a* has he not also another object, which is that they may be impoverished by payment of taxes, and thus compelled to devote themselves to their daily wants and therefore less likely to conspire against him? clearly. and if any of them are suspected by him of having notions of freedom, and of resistance to his authority, he will have a good pretext for destroying them by placing them at the mercy of the enemy; and for all these reasons the tyrant must be always getting up a war. he must. * b* now he begins to grow unpopular. a necessary result. then some of those who joined in setting him up, and who are in power, speak their minds to him and to one another, and the more courageous of them cast in his teeth what is being done. yes, that may be expected. [sidenote: he gets rid of his bravest and boldest followers.] and the tyrant, if he means to rule, must get rid of them; he cannot stop while he has a friend or an enemy who is good for anything. he cannot. and therefore he must look about him and see who is * c* valiant, who is high-minded, who is wise, who is wealthy; { } happy man, he is the enemy of them all, and must seek occasion against them whether he will or no, until he has made a purgation of the state. yes, he said, and a rare purgation. [sidenote: his purgation of the state.] yes, i said, not the sort of purgation which the physicians make of the body; for they take away the worse and leave the better part, but he does the reverse. if he is to rule, i suppose that he cannot help himself. * d* what a blessed alternative, i said:--to be compelled to dwell only with the many bad, and to be by them hated, or not to live at all! yes, that is the alternative. and the more detestable his actions are to the citizens the more satellites and the greater devotion in them will he require? certainly. and who are the devoted band, and where will he procure them? they will flock to him, he said, of their own accord, if he pays them. [sidenote: more drones.] by the dog! i said, here are more drones, of every sort * e* and from every land. yes, he said, there are. but will he not desire to get them on the spot? how do you mean? he will rob the citizens of their slaves; he will then set them free and enrol them in his body-guard. to be sure, he said; and he will be able to trust them best of all. [sidenote: he puts to death his friends and lives with the slaves whom he has enfranchised.] what a blessed creature, i said, must this tyrant be; he * a* has put to death the others and has these for his trusted friends. yes, he said; they are quite of his sort. yes, i said, and these are the new citizens whom he has called into existence, who admire him and are his companions, while the good hate and avoid him. of course. [sidenote: euripides and the tragedians praise tyranny, which is an excellent reason for expelling them from our state.] verily, then, tragedy is a wise thing and euripides a great tragedian. why so? { } why, because he is the author of the pregnant saying, * b* 'tyrants are wise by living with the wise;' and he clearly meant to say that they are the wise whom the tyrant makes his companions. yes, he said, and he also praises tyranny as godlike; and many other things of the same kind are said by him and by the other poets. and therefore, i said, the tragic poets being wise men will forgive us and any others who live after our manner if we do not receive them into our state, because they are the eulogists of tyranny. * c* yes, he said, those who have the wit will doubtless forgive us. but they will continue to go to other cities and attract mobs, and hire voices fair and loud and persuasive, and draw the cities over to tyrannies and democracies. very true. moreover, they are paid for this and receive honour--the greatest honour, as might be expected, from tyrants, and the next greatest from democracies; but the higher they ascend * d* our constitution hill, the more their reputation fails, and seems unable from shortness of breath to proceed further. true. but we are wandering from the subject: let us therefore return and enquire how the tyrant will maintain that fair and numerous and various and ever-changing army of his. [sidenote: the tyrant seizes the treasures in the temples, and when these fail feeds upon the people.] if, he said, there are sacred treasures in the city, he will confiscate and spend them; and in so far as the fortunes of attainted persons may suffice, he will be able to diminish the taxes which he would otherwise have to impose upon the people. * e* and when these fail? why, clearly, he said, then he and his boon companions, whether male or female, will be maintained out of his father's estate. you mean to say that the people, from whom he has derived his being, will maintain him and his companions? yes, he said; they cannot help themselves. [sidenote: they rebel, and then he beats his own parent, i.e. the people.] but what if the people fly into a passion, and aver that a { } grown-up son ought not to be supported by his father, but * a* that the father should be supported by the son? the father did not bring him into being, or settle him in life, in order that when his son became a man he should himself be the servant of his own servants and should support him and his rabble of slaves and companions; but that his son should protect him, and that by his help he might be emancipated from the government of the rich and aristocratic, as they are termed. and so he bids him and his companions depart, just as any other father might drive out of the house a riotous son and his undesirable associates. by heaven, he said, then the parent will discover what * b* a monster he has been fostering in his bosom; and, when he wants to drive him out, he will find that he is weak and his son strong. why, you do not mean to say that the tyrant will use violence? what! beat his father if he opposes him? yes, he will, having first disarmed him. then he is a parricide, and a cruel guardian of an aged parent; and this is real tyranny, about which there can be no longer a mistake: as the saying is, the people who would escape the smoke which is the slavery of freemen, has fallen * c* into the fire which is the tyranny of slaves. thus liberty, getting out of all order and reason, passes into the harshest and bitterest form of slavery. true, he said. very well; and may we not rightly say that we have sufficiently discussed the nature of tyranny, and the manner of the transition from democracy to tyranny? yes, quite enough, he said. book ix. [sidenote: _republic ix._ socrates, adeimantus.] * a* last of all comes the tyrannical man; about whom we have once more to ask, how is he formed out of the democratical? and how does he live, in happiness or in misery? yes, he said, he is the only one remaining. there is, however, i said, a previous question which remains unanswered. what question? [sidenote: a digression having a purpose.] i do not think that we have adequately determined the nature and number of the appetites, and until this is accomplished * b* the enquiry will always be confused. well, he said, it is not too late to supply the omission. [sidenote: the wild beast latent in man peers forth in sleep.] very true, i said; and observe the point which i want to understand: certain of the unnecessary pleasures and appetites i conceive to be unlawful; every one appears to have them, but in some persons they are controlled by the laws and by reason, and the better desires prevail over them--either they are wholly banished or they become few and weak; while in the case of others they are stronger, and * c* there are more of them. which appetites do you mean? i mean those which are awake when the reasoning and human and ruling power is asleep; then the wild beast within us, gorged with meat or drink, starts up and having shaken off sleep, goes forth to satisfy his desires; and there * d* is no conceivable folly or crime--not excepting incest or any other unnatural union, or parricide, or the eating of forbidden food--which at such a time, when he has parted company with all shame and sense, a man may not be ready to commit. most true, he said. [sidenote: the contrast of the temperate man whose passions are under the control of reason.] but when a man's pulse is healthy and temperate, and when before going to sleep he has awakened his rational { } powers, and fed them on noble thoughts and enquiries, * e* collecting himself in meditation; after having first indulged his appetites neither too much nor too little, but just enough to lay them to sleep, and prevent them and their enjoyments * a* and pains from interfering with the higher principle--which he leaves in the solitude of pure abstraction, free to contemplate and aspire to the knowledge of the unknown, whether in past, present, or future: when again he has allayed the passionate element, if he has a quarrel against any one--i say, when, after pacifying the two irrational principles, he rouses up the third, which is reason, before he takes his rest, then, as you know, he attains truth most nearly, and is least * b* likely to be the sport of fantastic and lawless visions. i quite agree. in saying this i have been running into a digression; but the point which i desire to note is that in all of us, even in good men, there is a lawless wild-beast nature, which peers out in sleep. pray, consider whether i am right, and you agree with me. yes, i agree. [sidenote: recapitulation.] and now remember the character which we attributed * c* to the democratic man. he was supposed from his youth upwards to have been trained under a miserly parent, who encouraged the saving appetites in him, but discountenanced the unnecessary, which aim only at amusement and ornament? true. and then he got into the company of a more refined, licentious sort of people, and taking to all their wanton ways rushed into the opposite extreme from an abhorrence of his father's meanness. at last, being a better man than his corruptors, he was drawn in both directions until he halted * d* midway and led a life, not of vulgar and slavish passion, but of what he deemed moderate indulgence in various pleasures. after this manner the democrat was generated out of the oligarch? yes, he said; that was our view of him, and is so still. and now, i said, years will have passed away, and you must conceive this man, such as he is, to have a son, who is brought up in his father's principles. i can imagine him. { } then you must further imagine the same thing to happen to the son which has already happened to the father:--he is * e* drawn into a perfectly lawless life, which by his seducers is termed perfect liberty; and his father and friends take part with his moderate desires, and the opposite party assist the opposite ones. as soon as these dire magicians and * a* tyrant-makers find that they are losing their hold on him, they contrive to implant in him a master passion, to be lord over his idle and spendthrift lusts--a sort of monstrous winged drone--that is the only image which will adequately describe him. yes, he said, that is the only adequate image of him. and when his other lusts, amid clouds of incense and perfumes and garlands and wines, and all the pleasures of a dissolute life, now let loose, come buzzing around him, nourishing to the utmost the sting of desire which they implant in his drone-like nature, then at last this lord of * b* the soul, having madness for the captain of his guard, breaks out into a frenzy: and if he finds in himself any good opinions or appetites in process of formation[ ], and there is in him any sense of shame remaining, to these better principles he puts an end, and casts them forth until he has purged away temperance and brought in madness to the full. [footnote : or, 'opinions or appetites such as are deemed to be good.'] [sidenote: the tyrannical man is made up of lusts and appetites. love, drink, madness are but different forms of tyranny.] yes, he said, that is the way in which the tyrannical man is generated. and is not this the reason why of old love has been called a tyrant? i should not wonder. further, i said, has not a drunken man also the spirit of * c* a tyrant? he has. and you know that a man who is deranged and not right in his mind, will fancy that he is able to rule, not only over men, but also over the gods? that he will. and the tyrannical man in the true sense of the word comes into being when, either under the influence of nature, or habit, or both, he becomes drunken, lustful, passionate? o my friend, is not that so? { } assuredly. such is the man and such is his origin. and next, how does he live? * d* suppose, as people facetiously say, you were to tell me. i imagine, i said, at the next step in his progress, that there will be feasts and carousals and revellings and courtezans, and all that sort of thing; love is the lord of the house within him, and orders all the concerns of his soul. that is certain. yes; and every day and every night desires grow up many and formidable, and their demands are many. they are indeed, he said. his revenues, if he has any, are soon spent. true. * e* then comes debt and the cutting down of his property. of course. [sidenote: his desires become greater and his means less.] when he has nothing left, must not his desires, crowding in the nest like young ravens, be crying aloud for food; and * a* he, goaded on by them, and especially by love himself, who is in a manner the captain of them, is in a frenzy, and would fain discover whom he can defraud or despoil of his property, in order that he may gratify them? yes, that is sure to be the case. he must have money, no matter how, if he is to escape horrid pains and pangs. he must. [sidenote: he will rob his father and mother.] and as in himself there was a succession of pleasures, and the new got the better of the old and took away their rights, so he being younger will claim to have more than his father and his mother, and if he has spent his own share of the property, he will take a slice of theirs. no doubt he will. * b* and if his parents will not give way, then he will try first of all to cheat and deceive them. very true. and if he fails, then he will use force and plunder them. yes, probably. and if the old man and woman fight for their own, what then, my friend? will the creature feel any compunction at tyrannizing over them? { } nay, he said, i should not feel at all comfortable about his parents. [sidenote: he will prefer the love of a girl or a youth to his aged parents, and may even be induced to strike them.] but, o heavens! adeimantus, on account of some new-fangled love of a harlot, who is anything but a necessary * c* connection, can you believe that he would strike the mother who is his ancient friend and necessary to his very existence, and would place her under the authority of the other, when she is brought under the same roof with her; or that, under like circumstances, he would do the same to his withered old father, first and most indispensable of friends, for the sake of some newly-found blooming youth who is the reverse of indispensable? yes, indeed, he said; i believe that he would. truly, then, i said, a tyrannical son is a blessing to his father and mother. he is indeed, he replied. [sidenote: he turns highwayman, robs temples, loses all his early principles, and becomes in waking reality the evil dream which he had in sleep.] [sidenote: he gathers followers about him.] * d* he first takes their property, and when that fails, and pleasures are beginning to swarm in the hive of his soul, then he breaks into a house, or steals the garments of some nightly wayfarer; next he proceeds to clear a temple. meanwhile the old opinions which he had when a child, and which gave judgment about good and evil, are overthrown by those others which have just been emancipated, and are now the body-guard of love and share his empire. these in his democratic days, when he was still subject to the laws * e* and to his father, were only let loose in the dreams of sleep. but now that he is under the dominion of love, he becomes always and in waking reality what he was then very rarely and in a dream only; he will commit the foulest murder, or eat forbidden food, or be guilty of any other horrid act. * a* love is his tyrant, and lives lordly in him and lawlessly, and being himself a king, leads him on, as a tyrant leads a state, to the performance of any reckless deed by which he can maintain himself and the rabble of his associates, whether those whom evil communications have brought in from without, or those whom he himself has allowed to break loose within him by reason of a similar evil nature in himself. have we not here a picture of his way of life? yes, indeed, he said. and if there are only a few of them in the state, and the { } * b* rest of the people are well disposed, they go away and become the body-guard or mercenary soldiers of some other tyrant who may probably want them for a war; and if there is no war, they stay at home and do many little pieces of mischief in the city. what sort of mischief? for example, they are the thieves, burglars, cut-purses, foot-pads, robbers of temples, man-stealers of the community; or if they are able to speak they turn informers, and bear false witness, and take bribes. * c* a small catalogue of evils, even if the perpetrators of them are few in number. [sidenote: a private person can do but little harm in comparison of the tyrant.] yes, i said; but small and great are comparative terms, and all these things, in the misery and evil which they inflict upon a state, do not come within a thousand miles of the tyrant; when this noxious class and their followers grow numerous and become conscious of their strength, assisted by the infatuation of the people, they choose from among themselves the one who has most of the tyrant in his own soul, * d* and him they create their tyrant. yes, he said, and he will be the most fit to be a tyrant. if the people yield, well and good; but if they resist him, as he began by beating his own father and mother, so now, if he has the power, he beats them, and will keep his dear old fatherland or motherland, as the cretans say, in subjection to his young retainers whom he has introduced to be their rulers and masters. this is the end of his passions and desires. * e* exactly. [sidenote: the behaviour of the tyrant to his early supporters.] when such men are only private individuals and before they get power, this is their character; they associate entirely with their own flatterers or ready tools; or if they want anything from anybody, they in their turn are equally ready to bow down before them: they profess every sort of * a* affection for them; but when they have gained their point they know them no more. yes, truly. [sidenote: he is always either master or servant, always treacherous, unjust, the waking reality of our dream, a tyrant by nature, a tyrant in fact.] they are always either the masters or servants and never the friends of anybody; the tyrant never tastes of true freedom or friendship. { } certainly not. and may we not rightly call such men treacherous? no question. * b* also they are utterly unjust, if we were right in our notion of justice? yes, he said, and we were perfectly right. let us then sum up in a word, i said, the character of the worst man: he is the waking reality of what we dreamed. most true. and this is he who being by nature most of a tyrant bears rule, and the longer he lives the more of a tyrant he becomes. [sidenote: socrates, glaucon.] that is certain, said glaucon, taking his turn to answer. [sidenote: the wicked are also the most miserable.] and will not he who has been shown to be the wickedest, * c* be also the most miserable? and he who has tyrannized longest and most, most continually and truly miserable; although this may not be the opinion of men in general? yes, he said, inevitably. [sidenote: like man, like state.] and must not the tyrannical man be like the tyrannical state, and the democratical man like the democratical state; and the same of the others? certainly. and as state is to state in virtue and happiness, so is man in relation to man? * d* to be sure. [sidenote: the opposite of the king.] then comparing our original city, which was under a king, and the city which is under a tyrant, how do they stand as to virtue? they are the opposite extremes, he said, for one is the very best and the other is the very worst. there can be no mistake, i said, as to which is which, and therefore i will at once enquire whether you would arrive at a similar decision about their relative happiness and misery. and here we must not allow ourselves to be panic-stricken at the apparition of the tyrant, who is only a unit and may perhaps have a few retainers about him; but let us go as we * e* ought into every corner of the city and look all about, and then we will give our opinion. a fair invitation, he replied; and i see, as every one must, that a tyranny is the wretchedest form of government, and the rule of a king the happiest. { } and in estimating the men too, may i not fairly make * a* a like request, that i should have a judge whose mind can enter into and see through human nature? he must not be like a child who looks at the outside and is dazzled at the pompous aspect which the tyrannical nature assumes to the beholder, but let him be one who has a clear insight. may i suppose that the judgment is given in the hearing of us all by one who is able to judge, and has dwelt in the same place with him, and been present at his dally life and known * b* him in his family relations, where he may be seen stripped of his tragedy attire, and again in the hour of public danger--he shall tell us about the happiness and misery of the tyrant when compared with other men? that again, he said, is a very fair proposal. shall i assume that we ourselves are able and experienced judges and have before now met with such a person? we shall then have some one who will answer our enquiries. by all means. * c* let me ask you not to forget the parallel of the individual and the state; bearing this in mind, and glancing in turn from one to the other of them, will you tell me their respective conditions? what do you mean? he asked. [sidenote: the state is not free, but enslaved.] beginning with the state, i replied, would you say that a city which is governed by a tyrant is free or enslaved? no city, he said, can be more completely enslaved. and yet, as you see, there are freemen as well as masters in such a state? yes, he said, i see that there are--a few; but the people, speaking generally, and the best of them are miserably degraded and enslaved. [sidenote: like a slave, the tyrant is full of meanness, and the ruling part of him is madness.] * d* then if the man is like the state, i said, must not the same rule prevail? his soul is full of meanness and vulgarity--the best elements in him are enslaved; and there is a small ruling part, which is also the worst and maddest. inevitably. and would you say that the soul of such an one is the soul of a freeman, or of a slave? he has the soul of a slave, in my opinion. { } and the state which is enslaved under a tyrant is utterly incapable of acting voluntarily? utterly incapable. [sidenote: the city which is subject to him is goaded by a gadfly;] * e* and also the soul which is under a tyrant (i am speaking of the soul taken as a whole) is least capable of doing what she desires; there is a gadfly which goads her, and she is full of trouble and remorse? certainly. and is the city which is under a tyrant rich or poor? poor. [sidenote: poor;] * a* and the tyrannical soul must be always poor and insatiable? true. and must not such a state and such a man be always full of fear? yes, indeed. [sidenote: full of misery.] is there any state in which you will find more of lamentation and sorrow and groaning and pain? certainly not. and is there any man in whom you will find more of this sort of misery than in the tyrannical man, who is in a fury of passions and desires? impossible. * b* reflecting upon these and similar evils, you held the tyrannical state to be the most miserable of states? and i was right, he said. [sidenote: also the tyrannical man is most miserable.] certainly, i said. and when you see the same evils in the tyrannical man, what do you say of him? i say that he is by far the most miserable of all men. [sidenote: yet there is a still more miserable being, the tyrannical man who is a public tyrant.] there, i said, i think that you are beginning to go wrong. what do you mean? i do not think that he has as yet reached the utmost extreme of misery. then who is more miserable? one of whom i am about to speak. who is that? * c* he who is of a tyrannical nature, and instead of leading a private life has been cursed with the further misfortune of being a public tyrant. from what has been said, i gather that you are right. { } yes, i replied, but in this high argument you should be a little more certain, and should not conjecture only; for of all questions, this respecting good and evil is the greatest. very true, he said. let me then offer you an illustration, which may, i think, * d* throw a light upon this subject. what is your illustration? [sidenote: in cities there are many great slaveowners, and they help to protect one another.] the case of rich individuals in cities who possess many slaves: from them you may form an idea of the tyrant's condition, for they both have slaves; the only difference is that he has more slaves. yes, that is the difference. you know that they live securely and have nothing to apprehend from their servants? what should they fear? nothing. but do you observe the reason of this? yes; the reason is, that the whole city is leagued together for the protection of each individual. [sidenote: but suppose a slaveowner and his slaves carried off into the wilderness, what will happen then? such is the condition of the tyrant.] * e* very true, i said. but imagine one of these owners, the master say of some fifty slaves, together with his family and property and slaves, carried off by a god into the wilderness, where there are no freemen to help him--will he not be in an agony of fear lest he and his wife and children should be put to death by his slaves? yes, he said, he will be in the utmost fear. * a* the time has arrived when he will be compelled to flatter divers of his slaves, and make many promises to them of freedom and other things, much against his will--he will have to cajole his own servants. yes, he said, that will be the only way of saving himself. and suppose the same god, who carried him away, to surround him with neighbours who will not suffer one man to be the master of another, and who, if they could catch the offender, would take his life? * b* his case will be still worse, if you suppose him to be everywhere surrounded and watched by enemies. [sidenote: he is the daintiest of all men and has to endure the hardships of a prison;] and is not this the sort of prison in which the tyrant will be bound--he who being by nature such as we have described, is full of all sorts of fears and lusts? his soul is dainty and greedy, and yet alone, of all men in the city, he is never { } allowed to go on a journey, or to see the things which other freemen desire to see, but he lives in his hole like a woman * c* hidden in the house, and is jealous of any other citizen who goes into foreign parts and sees anything of interest. very true, he said. [sidenote: miserable in himself, he is still more miserable if he be in a public station.] and amid evils such as these will not he who is ill-governed in his own person--the tyrannical man, i mean--whom you just now decided to be the most miserable of all--will not he be yet more miserable when, instead of leading a private life, he is constrained by fortune to be a public tyrant? he has to be master of others when he is not master of himself: he is like a diseased or paralytic man who is compelled to pass his * d* life, not in retirement, but fighting and combating with other men. yes, he said, the similitude is most exact. [sidenote: he then leads a life worse than the worst,] is not his case utterly miserable? and does not the actual tyrant lead a worse life than he whose life you determined to be the worst? certainly. [sidenote: in unhappiness,] he who is the real tyrant, whatever men may think, is the real slave, and is obliged to practise the greatest adulation * e* and servility, and to be the flatterer of the vilest of mankind. he has desires which he is utterly unable to satisfy, and has more wants than any one, and is truly poor, if you know how to inspect the whole soul of him: all his life long he is beset with fear and is full of convulsions and distractions, even as the state which he resembles: and surely the resemblance holds? very true, he said. [sidenote: and in wickedness.] * a* moreover, as we were saying before, he grows worse from having power: he becomes and is of necessity more jealous, more faithless, more unjust, more friendless, more impious, than he was at first; he is the purveyor and cherisher of every sort of vice, and the consequence is that he is supremely miserable, and that he makes everybody else as miserable as himself. no man of any sense will dispute your words. [sidenote: the umpire decides that] come then, i said, and as the general umpire in theatrical * b* contests proclaims the result, do you also decide who in your opinion is first in the scale of happiness, and who second, { } and in what order the others follow: there are five of them in all--they are the royal, timocratical, oligarchical, democratical, tyrannical. the decision will be easily given, he replied; they shall be choruses coming on the stage, and i must judge them in the order in which they enter, by the criterion of virtue and vice, happiness and misery. [sidenote: the best is the happiest and the worst is the most miserable. this is the proclamation of the son of ariston.] need we hire a herald, or shall i announce, that the son of ariston [the best] has decided that the best and justest * c* is also the happiest, and that this is he who is the most royal man and king over himself; and that the worst and most unjust man is also the most miserable, and that this is he who being the greatest tyrant of himself is also the greatest tyrant of his state? make the proclamation yourself, he said. and shall i add, 'whether seen or unseen by gods and men'? let the words be added. then this, i said, will be our first proof; and there is * d* another, which may also have some weight. what is that? [sidenote: proof, derived from the three principles of the soul.] the second proof is derived from the nature of the soul: seeing that the individual soul, like the state, has been divided by us into three principles, the division may, i think, furnish a new demonstration. of what nature? it seems to me that to these three principles three pleasures correspond; also three desires and governing powers. how do you mean? he said. there is one principle with which, as we were saying, a man learns, another with which he is angry; the third, * e* having many forms, has no special name, but is denoted by the general term appetitive, from the extraordinary strength and vehemence of the desires of eating and drinking and the other sensual appetites which are the main elements of it; * a* also money-loving, because such desires are generally satisfied by the help of money. that is true, he said. [sidenote: ( ) the appetitive:] if we were to say that the loves and pleasures of this third part were concerned with gain, we should then be { } able to fall back on a single notion; and might truly and intelligibly describe this part of the soul as loving gain or money. i agree with you. again, is not the passionate element wholly set on ruling and conquering and getting fame? * b* true. [sidenote: ( ) the ambitious;] suppose we call it the contentious or ambitious--would the term be suitable? extremely suitable. [sidenote: ( ) the principle of knowledge and truth.] on the other hand, every one sees that the principle of knowledge is wholly directed to the truth, and cares less than either of the others for gain or fame. far less. 'lover of wisdom,' 'lover of knowledge,' are titles which we may fitly apply to that part of the soul? certainly. one principle prevails in the souls of one class of men, * c* another in others, as may happen? yes. then we may begin by assuming that there are three classes of men--lovers of wisdom, lovers of honour, lovers of gain? exactly. and there are three kinds of pleasure, which are their several objects? very true. [sidenote: each will depreciate the others, but only the philosopher has the power to judge,] now, if you examine the three classes of men, and ask of them in turn which of their lives is pleasantest, each will be found praising his own and depreciating that of others: * d* the money-maker will contrast the vanity of honour or of learning if they bring no money with the solid advantages of gold and silver? true, he said. and the lover of honour--what will be his opinion? will he not think that the pleasure of riches is vulgar, while the pleasure of learning, if it brings no distinction, is all smoke and nonsense to him? very true. { } [sidenote: because he alone has experience of the highest pleasures and is also acquainted with the lower.] and are we to suppose[ ], i said, that the philosopher sets * e* any value on other pleasures in comparison with the pleasure of knowing the truth, and in that pursuit abiding, ever learning, not so far indeed from the heaven of pleasure? does he not call the other pleasures necessary, under the idea that if there were no necessity for them, he would rather not have them? [footnote : reading with grasere and hermann [greek: ti/ oi)ô/metha], and omitting [greek: ou)de\n], which is not found in the best mss.] there can be no doubt of that, he replied. since, then, the pleasures of each class and the life of each are in dispute, and the question is not which life is more or * a* less honourable, or better or worse, but which is the more pleasant or painless--how shall we know who speaks truly? i cannot myself tell, he said. well, but what ought to be the criterion? is any better than experience and wisdom and reason? there cannot be a better, he said. then, i said, reflect. of the three individuals, which has the greatest experience of all the pleasures which we enumerated? has the lover of gain, in learning the nature of essential truth, greater experience of the pleasure of * b* knowledge than the philosopher has of the pleasure of gain? the philosopher, he replied, has greatly the advantage; for he has of necessity always known the taste of the other pleasures from his childhood upwards: but the lover of gain in all his experience has not of necessity tasted--or, i should rather say, even had he desired, could hardly have tasted--the sweetness of learning and knowing truth. then the lover of wisdom has a great advantage over the lover of gain, for he has a double experience? * c* yes, very great. again, has he greater experience of the pleasures of honour, or the lover of honour of the pleasures of wisdom? nay, he said, all three are honoured in proportion as they attain their object; for the rich man and the brave man and the wise man alike have their crowd of admirers, and as they all receive honour they all have experience of the pleasures of honour; but the delight which is to be found { } in the knowledge of true being is known to the philosopher only. * d* his experience, then, will enable him to judge better than any one? far better. [sidenote: the philosopher alone having both judgment and experience,] and he is the only one who has wisdom as well as experience? certainly. further, the very faculty which is the instrument of judgment is not possessed by the covetous or ambitious man, but only by the philosopher? what faculty? reason, with whom, as we were saying, the decision ought to rest. yes. and reasoning is peculiarly his instrument? certainly. if wealth and gain were the criterion, then the praise or * e* blame of the lover of gain would surely be the most trustworthy? assuredly. or if honour or victory or courage, in that case the judgment of the ambitious or pugnacious would be the truest? clearly. [sidenote: the pleasures which he approves are the true pleasures: he places ( ) the love of wisdom, ( ) the love of honour, ( ) and lowest the love of gain.] but since experience and wisdom and reason are the judges-- the only inference possible, he replied, is that pleasures which are approved by the lover of wisdom and reason are the truest. and so we arrive at the result, that the pleasure of the * a* intelligent part of the soul is the pleasantest of the three, and that he of us in whom this is the ruling principle has the pleasantest life. unquestionably, he said, the wise man speaks with authority when he approves of his own life. and what does the judge affirm to be the life which is next, and the pleasure which is next? clearly that of the soldier and lover of honour; who is nearer to himself than the money-maker. last comes the lover of gain? { } very true, he said. [sidenote: true pleasure is not relative but absolute.] * b* twice in succession, then, has the just man overthrown the unjust in this conflict; and now comes the third trial, which is dedicated to olympian zeus the saviour: a sage whispers in my ear that no pleasure except that of the wise is quite true and pure--all others are a shadow only; and surely this will prove the greatest and most decisive of falls? yes, the greatest; but will you explain yourself? * c* i will work out the subject and you shall answer my questions. proceed. say, then, is not pleasure opposed to pain? true. and there is a neutral state which is neither pleasure nor pain? there is. a state which is intermediate, and a sort of repose of the soul about either--that is what you mean? yes. you remember what people say when they are sick? what do they say? that after all nothing is pleasanter than health. but then they never knew this to be the greatest of pleasures until * d* they were ill. yes, i know, he said. [sidenote: the states intermediate between pleasure and pain are termed pleasures or pains only in relation to their opposites.] and when persons are suffering from acute pain, you must have heard them say that there is nothing pleasanter than to get rid of their pain? i have. and there are many other cases of suffering in which the mere rest and cessation of pain, and not any positive enjoyment, is extolled by them as the greatest pleasure? yes, he said; at the time they are pleased and well content to be at rest. * e* again, when pleasure ceases, that sort of rest or cessation will be painful? doubtless, he said. then the intermediate state of rest will be pleasure and will also be pain? so it would seem. { } but can that which is neither become both? i should say not. and both pleasure and pain are motions of the soul, are they not? yes. [sidenote: pleasure and pain are said to be states of rest, but they are really motions.] * a* but that which is neither was just now shown to be rest and not motion, and in a mean between them? yes. how, then, can we be right in supposing that the absence of pain is pleasure, or that the absence of pleasure is pain? impossible. this then is an appearance only and not a reality; that is to say, the rest is pleasure at the moment and in comparison of what is painful, and painful in comparison of what is pleasant; but all these representations, when tried by the test of true pleasure, are not real but a sort of imposition? that is the inference. [sidenote: all pleasures are not merely cessations of pains, or pains of pleasures; e.g. the pleasures of smell are not.] * b* look at the other class of pleasures which have no antecedent pains and you will no longer suppose, as you perhaps may at present, that pleasure is only the cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure. what are they, he said, and where shall i find them? there are many of them: take as an example the pleasures of smell, which are very great and have no antecedent pains; they come in a moment, and when they depart leave no pain behind them. most true, he said. * c* let us not, then, be induced to believe that pure pleasure is the cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure. no. still, the more numerous and violent pleasures which reach the soul through the body are generally of this sort--they are reliefs of pain. that is true. and the anticipations of future pleasures and pains are of a like nature? yes. * d* shall i give you an illustration of them? let me hear. { } you would allow, i said, that there is in nature an upper and lower and middle region? i should. [sidenote: illustrations of the unreality of certain pleasures.] and if a person were to go from the lower to the middle region, would he not imagine that he is going up; and he who is standing in the middle and sees whence he has come, would imagine that he is already in the upper region, if he has never seen the true upper world? to be sure, he said; how can he think otherwise? * e* but if he were taken back again he would imagine, and truly imagine, that he was descending? no doubt. all that would arise out of his ignorance of the true upper and middle and lower regions? yes. then can you wonder that persons who are inexperienced in the truth, as they have wrong ideas about many other things, should also have wrong ideas about pleasure and pain and the intermediate state; so that when they are only being * a* drawn towards the painful they feel pain and think the pain which they experience to be real, and in like manner, when drawn away from pain to the neutral or intermediate state, they firmly believe that they have reached the goal of satiety and pleasure; they, not knowing pleasure, err in contrasting pain with the absence of pain, which is like contrasting black with grey instead of white--can you wonder, i say, at this? no, indeed; i should be much more disposed to wonder at the opposite. look at the matter thus:--hunger, thirst, and the like, * b* are inanitions of the bodily state? yes. and ignorance and folly are inanitions of the soul? true. and food and wisdom are the corresponding satisfactions of either? certainly. [sidenote: the intellectual more real than the sensual.] and is the satisfaction derived from that which has less or from that which has more existence the truer? clearly, from that which has more. what classes of things have a greater share of pure { } existence in your judgment--those of which food and drink and condiments and all kinds of sustenance are examples, or the class which contains true opinion and knowledge and * c* mind and all the different kinds of virtue? put the question in this way:--which has a more pure being--that which is concerned with the invariable, the immortal, and the true, and is of such a nature, and is found in such natures; or that which is concerned with and found in the variable and mortal, and is itself variable and mortal? far purer, he replied, is the being of that which is concerned with the invariable. and does the essence of the invariable partake of knowledge in the same degree as of essence? yes, of knowledge in the same degree. and of truth in the same degree? yes. and, conversely, that which has less of truth will also have less of essence? necessarily. * d* then, in general, those kinds of things which are in the service of the body have less of truth and essence than those which are in the service of the soul? far less. and has not the body itself less of truth and essence than the soul? yes. what is filled with more real existence, and actually has a more real existence, is more really filled than that which is filled with less real existence and is less real? of course. [sidenote: the pleasures of the sensual and also of the passionate element are unreal and mixed.] and if there be a pleasure in being filled with that which is according to nature, that which is more really filled with * e* more real being will more really and truly enjoy true pleasure; whereas that which participates in less real being will be less truly and surely satisfied, and will participate in an illusory and less real pleasure? unquestionably. * a* those then who know not wisdom and virtue, and are always busy with gluttony and sensuality, go down and up again as far as the mean; and in this region they move at { } random throughout life, but they never pass into the true upper world; thither they neither look, nor do they ever find their way, neither are they truly filled with true being, nor do they taste of pure and abiding pleasure. like cattle, with their eyes always looking down and their heads stooping to the earth, that is, to the dining-table, they fatten and feed * b* and breed, and, in their excessive love of these delights, they kick and butt at one another with horns and hoofs which are made of iron; and they kill one another by reason of their insatiable lust. for they fill themselves with that which is not substantial, and the part of themselves which they fill is also unsubstantial and incontinent. verily, socrates, said glaucon, you describe the life of the many like an oracle. their pleasures are mixed with pains--how can they be otherwise? for they are mere shadows and pictures of * c* the true, and are coloured by contrast, which exaggerates both light and shade, and so they implant in the minds of fools insane desires of themselves; and they are fought about as stesichorus says that the greeks fought about the shadow of helen at troy in ignorance of the truth. something of that sort must inevitably happen. and must not the like happen with the spirited or passionate element of the soul? will not the passionate man who carries his passion into action, be in the like case, whether he is envious and ambitious, or violent and contentious, or angry and discontented, if he be seeking to attain * d* honour and victory and the satisfaction of his anger without reason or sense? yes, he said, the same will happen with the spirited element also. [sidenote: both kinds of pleasures are attained in the highest degree when the desires which seek them are under the guidance of reason.] then may we not confidently assert that the lovers of money and honour, when they seek their pleasures under the guidance and in the company of reason and knowledge, and pursue after and win the pleasures which wisdom shows them, will also have the truest pleasures in the highest degree which is attainable to them, inasmuch as they follow truth; * e* and they will have the pleasures which are natural to them, if that which is best for each one is also most natural to him? yes, certainly; the best is the most natural. { } and when the whole soul follows the philosophical principle, and there is no division, the several parts are just, * a* and do each of them their own business, and enjoy severally the best and truest pleasures of which they are capable? exactly. but when either of the two other principles prevails, it fails in attaining its own pleasure, and compels the rest to pursue after a pleasure which is a shadow only and which is not their own? true. and the greater the interval which separates them from philosophy and reason, the more strange and illusive will be the pleasure? yes. and is not that farthest from reason which is at the greatest distance from law and order? clearly. and the lustful and tyrannical desires are, as we saw, at the * b* greatest distance? yes. and the royal and orderly desires are nearest? yes. then the tyrant will live at the greatest distance from true or natural pleasure, and the king at the least? certainly. but if so, the tyrant will live most unpleasantly, and the king most pleasantly? inevitably. [sidenote: the measure of the interval which separates the king from the tyrant,] would you know the measure of the interval which separates them? will you tell me? there appear to be three pleasures, one genuine and two * c* spurious: now the transgression of the tyrant reaches a point beyond the spurious; he has run away from the region of law and reason, and taken up his abode with certain slave pleasures which are his satellites, and the measure of his inferiority can only be expressed in a figure. how do you mean? i assume, i said, that the tyrant is in the third place from the oligarch; the democrat was in the middle? { } yes. and if there is truth in what has preceded, he will be wedded to an image of pleasure which is thrice removed as to truth from the pleasure of the oligarch? he will. and the oligarch is third from the royal; since we count * d* as one royal and aristocratical? yes, he is third. then the tyrant is removed from true pleasure by the space of a number which is three times three? manifestly. [sidenote: expressed under the symbol of a cube corresponding to the number .] the shadow then of tyrannical pleasure determined by the number of length will be a plane figure. certainly. and if you raise the power and make the plane a solid, there is no difficulty in seeing how vast is the interval by which the tyrant is parted from the king. yes; the arithmetician will easily do the sum. or if some person begins at the other end and measures * e* the interval by which the king is parted from the tyrant in truth of pleasure, he will find him, when the multiplication is completed, living times more pleasantly, and the tyrant more painfully by this same interval. what a wonderful calculation! and how enormous is the * a* distance which separates the just from the unjust in regard to pleasure and pain! [sidenote: which is _nearly_ the number of days and nights in a year.] yet a true calculation, i said, and a number which nearly concerns human life, if human beings are concerned with days and nights and months and years[ ]. [footnote : _nearly_ equals the number of days and nights in the year.] yes, he said, human life is certainly concerned with them. then if the good and just man be thus superior in pleasure to the evil and unjust, his superiority will be infinitely greater in propriety of life and in beauty and virtue? immeasurably greater. [sidenote: refutation of thrasymachus.] * b* well, i said, and now having arrived at this stage of the argument, we may revert to the words which brought us hither: was not some one saying that injustice was a gain to the perfectly unjust who was reputed to be just? yes, that was said. { } now then, having determined the power and quality of justice and injustice, let us have a little conversation with him. what shall we say to him? let us make an image of the soul, that he may have his own words presented before his eyes. * c* of what sort? [sidenote: the triple animal who has outwardly the image of a man.] an ideal image of the soul, like the composite creations of ancient mythology, such as the chimera or scylla or cerberus, and there are many others in which two or more different natures are said to grow into one. there are said of have been such unions. then do you now model the form of a multitudinous, many-headed monster, having a ring of heads of all manner of beasts, tame and wild, which he is able to generate and metamorphose at will. * d* you suppose marvellous powers in the artist; but, as language is more pliable than wax or any similar substance, let there be such a model as you propose. suppose now that you make a second form as of a lion, and a third of a man, the second smaller than the first, and the third smaller than the second. that, he said, is an easier task; and i have made them as you say. and now join them, and let the three grow into one. that has been accomplished. next fashion the outside of them into a single image, as of a man, so that he who is not able to look within, and sees * e* only the outer hull, may believe the beast to be a single human creature. i have done so, he said. [sidenote: will any one say that we should strengthen the monster and the lion at the expense of the man?] and now, to him who maintains that it is profitable for the human creature to be unjust, and unprofitable to be just, let us reply that, if he be right, it is profitable for this creature to feast the multitudinous monster and strengthen the lion and * a* the lion-like qualities, but to starve and weaken the man, who is consequently liable to be dragged about at the mercy of either of the other two; and he is not to attempt to familiarize or harmonize them with one another--he ought rather to suffer them to fight and bite and devour one another. { } certainly, he said; that is what the approver of injustice says. to him the supporter of justice makes answer that he should ever so speak and act as to give the man within him in some way or other the most complete mastery over the * b* entire human creature. he should watch over the many-headed monster like a good husbandman, fostering and cultivating the gentle qualities, and preventing the wild ones from growing; he should be making the lion-heart his ally, and in common care of them all should be uniting the several parts with one another and with himself. yes, he said, that is quite what the maintainer of justice say. and so from every point of view, whether of pleasure, * c* honour, or advantage, the approver of justice is right and speaks the truth, and the disapprover is wrong and false and ignorant? yes, from every point of view. [sidenote: for the noble principle subjects the beast to the man, the ignoble the man to the beast.] come, now, and let us gently reason with the unjust, who is not intentionally in error. 'sweet sir,' we will say to him, 'what think you of things esteemed noble and ignoble? * d* is not the noble that which subjects the beast to the man, or rather to the god in man; and the ignoble that which subjects the man to the beast?' he can hardly avoid saying yes--can he now? not if he has any regard for my opinion. [sidenote: a man would not be the gainer if he sold his child: how much worse to sell his soul!] but, if he agree so far, we may ask him to answer another question: 'then how would a man profit if he received gold and silver on the condition that he was to enslave the noblest part of him to the worst? who can imagine that a man who * e* sold his son or daughter into slavery for money, especially if he sold them into the hands of fierce and evil men, would be the gainer, however large might be the sum which he received? and will any one say that he is not a miserable * a* caitiff who remorselessly sells his own divine being to that which is most godless and detestable? eriphyle took the necklace as the price of her husband's life, but he is taking a bribe in order to compass a worse ruin.' yes, said glaucon, far worse--i will answer for him. has not the intemperate been censured of old, because in { } him the huge multiform monster is allowed to be too much at large? clearly. [sidenote: proofs:--( ) men are blamed for the predominance of the lower nature,] and men are blamed for pride and bad temper when the * b* lion and serpent element in them disproportionately grows and gains strength? yes. and luxury and softness are blamed, because they relax and weaken this same creature, and make a coward of him? very true. and is not a man reproached for flattery and meanness who subordinates the spirited animal to the unruly monster, and, for the sake of money, of which he can never have enough, habituates him in the days of his youth to be trampled in the mire, and from being a lion to become a monkey? * c* true, he said. [sidenote: as well as for the meanness of their employments and character:] and why are mean employments and manual arts a reproach? only because they imply a natural weakness of the higher principle; the individual is unable to control the creatures within him, but has to court them, and his great study is how to flatter them. such appears to be the reason. [sidenote: ( ) it is admitted that every one should be the servant of a divine rule, or at any rate be kept under control by an external authority:] and therefore, being desirous of placing him under a rule like that of the best, we say that he ought to be the servant * d* of the best, in whom the divine rules; not, as thrasymachus supposed, to the injury of the servant, but because every one had better be ruled by divine wisdom dwelling within him; or, if this be impossible, then by an external authority, in order that we may be all, as far as possible, under the same government, friends and equals. true, he said. [sidenote: ( ) the care taken of children shows that we seek to establish in them a higher principle.] * e* and this is clearly seen to be the intention of the law, which is the ally of the whole city; and is seen also in the authority which we exercise over children, and the refusal to let them be free until we have established in them a principle analogous to the constitution of a state, and by * a* cultivation of this higher element have set up in their hearts a guardian and ruler like our own, and when this is done they may go their ways. yes, he said, the purpose of the law is manifest. { } from what point of view, then, and on what ground can we say that a man is profited by injustice or intemperance or other baseness, which will make him a worse man, even though he acquire money or power by his wickedness? from no point of view at all. [sidenote: the wise man will employ his energies in freeing and harmonizing the nobler elements of his nature and in regulating his bodily habits.] what shall he profit, if his injustice be undetected and unpunished? * b* he who is undetected only gets worse, whereas he who is detected and punished has the brutal part of his nature silenced and humanized; the gentler element in him is liberated, and his whole soul is perfected and ennobled by the acquirement of justice and temperance and wisdom, more than the body ever is by receiving gifts of beauty, strength and health, in proportion as the soul is more honourable than the body. certainly, he said. * c* to this nobler purpose the man of understanding will devote the energies of his life. and in the first place, he will honour studies which impress these qualities on his soul and will disregard others? clearly, he said. [sidenote: his first aim not health but harmony of soul.] in the next place, he will regulate his bodily habit and training, and so far will he be from yielding to brutal and irrational pleasures, that he will regard even health as quite a secondary matter; his first object will be not that he may * d* be fair or strong or well, unless he is likely thereby to gain temperance, but he will always desire so to attemper the body as to preserve the harmony of the soul? certainly he will, if he has true music in him. and in the acquisition of wealth there is a principle of order and harmony which he will also observe; he will not allow himself to be dazzled by the foolish applause of the world, and heap up riches to his own infinite harm? certainly not, he said. [sidenote: he will not heap up riches,] * e* he will look at the city which is within him, and take heed that no disorder occur in it, such as might arise either from superfluity or from want; and upon this principle he will regulate his property and gain or spend according to his means. very true. [sidenote: and he will only accept such political honours as will not deteriorate his character.] and, for the same reason, he will gladly accept and enjoy { } * a* such honours as he deems likely to make him a better man; but those, whether private or public, which are likely to disorder his life, he will avoid? then, if that is his motive, he will not be a statesman. by the dog of egypt, he will! in the city which is his own he certainly will, though in the land of his birth perhaps not, unless he have a divine call. [sidenote: he has a city of his own, and the ideal pattern of this will be the law of his life.] i understand; you mean that he will be a ruler in the city of which we are the founders, and which exists in idea only; * b* for i do not believe that there is such an one anywhere on earth? in heaven, i replied, there is laid up a pattern of it, methinks, which he who desires may behold, and beholding, may set his own house in order[ ]. but whether such an one exists, or ever will exist in fact, is no matter; for he will live after the manner of that city, having nothing to do with any other. [footnote : or 'take up his abode there.'] i think so, he said. book x. [sidenote: _republic x._ socrates, glaucon.] * a* of the many excellences which i perceive in the order of our state, there is none which upon reflection pleases me better than the rule about poetry. to what do you refer? to the rejection of imitative poetry, which certainly ought not to be received; as i see far more clearly now that * b* the parts of the soul have been distinguished. what do you mean? [sidenote: poetical imitations are ruinous to the mind of the hearer.] speaking in confidence, for i should not like to have my words repeated to the tragedians and the rest of the imitative tribe--but i do not mind saying to you, that all poetical imitations are ruinous to the understanding of the hearers, and that the knowledge of their true nature is the only antidote to them. explain the purport of your remark. well, i will tell you, although i have always from my earliest youth had an awe and love of homer, which even now makes the words falter on my lips, for he is the great * c* captain and teacher of the whole of that charming tragic company; but a man is not to be reverenced more than the truth, and therefore i will speak out. very good, he said. listen to me then, or rather, answer me. put your question. [sidenote: the nature of imitation.] can you tell me what imitation is? for i really do not know. a likely thing, then, that i should know. * a* why not? for the duller eye may often see a thing sooner than the keener. very true, he said; but in your presence, even if i had any ( } faint notion, i could not muster courage to utter it. will you enquire yourself? well then, shall we begin the enquiry in our usual manner: whenever a number of individuals have a common name, we assume them to have also a corresponding idea or form:--do you understand me? i do. [sidenote: the idea is one, but the objects comprehended under it are many.] let us take any common instance; there are beds and * b* tables in the world--plenty of them, are there not? yes. but there are only two ideas or forms of them--one the idea of a bed, the other of a table. true. and the maker of either of them makes a bed or he makes a table for our use, in accordance with the idea--that is our way of speaking in this and similar instances--but no artificer makes the ideas themselves: how could he? impossible. and there is another artist,--i should like to know what you would say of him. * c* who is he? [sidenote: the universal creator an extraordinary person. but note also that everybody is a creator in a sense. for all things may be made by the reflection of them in a mirror.] one who is the maker of all the works of all other workmen. what an extraordinary man! wait a little, and there will be more reason for your saying so. for this is he who is able to make not only vessels of every kind, but plants and animals, himself and all other things--the earth and heaven, and the things which are in heaven or under the earth; he makes the gods also. * d* he must be a wizard and no mistake. oh! you are incredulous, are you? do you mean that there is no such maker or creator, or that in one sense there might be a maker of all these things but in another not? do you see that there is a way in which you could make them all yourself? what way? an easy way enough; or rather, there are many ways in which the feat might be quickly and easily accomplished, none quicker than that of turning a mirror round and round--you * e* would soon enough make the sun and the heavens, and the earth and yourself, and other animals and plants, and { } all the other things of which we were just now speaking, in the mirror. yes, he said; but they would be appearances only. [sidenote: but this is an appearance only: and the painter too is a maker of appearances.] very good, i said, you are coming to the point now. and the painter too is, as i conceive, just such another--a creator of appearances, is he not? of course. but then i suppose you will say that what he creates is untrue. and yet there is a sense in which the painter also creates a bed? yes, he said, but not a real bed. * a* and what of the maker of the bed? were you not saying that he too makes, not the idea which, according to our view, is the essence of the bed, but only a particular bed? yes, i did. then if he does not make that which exists he cannot make true existence, but only some semblance of existence; and if any one were to say that the work of the maker of the bed, or of any other workman, has real existence, he could hardly be supposed to be speaking the truth. at any rate, he replied, philosophers would say that he was not speaking the truth. no wonder, then, that his work too is an indistinct expression of truth. * b* no wonder. suppose now that by the light of the examples just offered we enquire who this imitator is? if you please. [sidenote: three beds and three makers of beds.] well then, here are three beds: one existing in nature, which is made by god, as i think that we may say--for no one else can be the maker? no. there is another which is the work of the carpenter? yes. and the work of the painter is a third? yes. beds, then, are of three kinds, and there are three artists who superintend them: god, the maker of the bed, and the painter? yes, there are three of them. { } * c* god, whether from choice or from necessity, made one bed in nature and one only; two or more such ideal beds neither ever have been nor ever will be made by god. why is that? [sidenote: ( ) the creator. god could only make one bed; if he made two, a third would still appear behind them.] because even if he had made but two, a third would still appear behind them which both of them would have for their idea, and that would be the ideal bed and not the two others. very true, he said. * d* god knew this, and he desired to be the real maker of a real bed, not a particular maker of a particular bed, and therefore he created a bed which is essentially and by nature one only. so we believe. shall we, then, speak of him as the natural author or maker of the bed? yes, he replied; inasmuch as by the natural process of creation he is the author of this and of all other things. [sidenote: ( ) the human maker.] and what shall we say of the carpenter--is not he also the maker of the bed? yes. but would you call the painter a creator and maker? certainly not. yet if he is not the maker, what is he in relation to the bed? [sidenote: ( ) the imitator, i.e. the painter or poet,] * e* i think, he said, that we may fairly designate him as the imitator of that which the others make. good, i said; then you call him who is third in the descent from nature an imitator? certainly, he said. and the tragic poet is an imitator, and therefore, like all other imitators, he is thrice removed from the king and from the truth? that appears to be so. then about the imitator we are agreed. and what about * a* the painter? --i would like to know whether he may be thought to imitate that which originally exists in nature, or only the creations of artists? the latter. as they are or as they appear? you have still to determine this. { } what do you mean? [sidenote: whose art is one of imitation or appearance and a long way removed from the truth.] i mean, that you may look at a bed from different points of view, obliquely or directly or from any other point of view, and the bed will appear different, but there is no difference in reality. and the same of all things. yes, he said, the difference is only apparent. * b* now let me ask you another question: which is the art of painting designed to be--an imitation of things as they are, or as they appear--of appearance or of reality? of appearance. [sidenote: any one who does all things does only a very small part of them.] then the imitator, i said, is a long way off the truth, and can do all things because he lightly touches on a small part of them, and that part an image. for example: a painter will paint a cobbler, carpenter, or any other artist, though he * c* knows nothing of their arts; and, if he is a good artist, he may deceive children or simple persons, when he shows them his picture of a carpenter from a distance, and they will fancy that they are looking at a real carpenter. certainly. [sidenote: any one who pretends to know all things is ignorant of the very nature of knowledge.] and whenever any one informs us that he has found a man who knows all the arts, and all things else that anybody knows, and every single thing with a higher degree of accuracy * d* than any other man--whoever tells us this, i think that we can only imagine him to be a simple creature who is likely to have been deceived by some wizard or actor whom he met, and whom he thought all-knowing, because he himself was unable to analyse the nature of knowledge and ignorance and imitation. most true. [sidenote: and he who attributes such universal knowledge to the poets is similarly deceived.] and so, when we hear persons saying that the tragedians, and homer, who is at their head, know all the arts and all * e* things human, virtue as well as vice, and divine things too, for that the good poet cannot compose well unless he knows his subject, and that he who has not this knowledge can never be a poet, we ought to consider whether here also there may not be a similar illusion. perhaps they may have come across imitators and been deceived by them; they may not have remembered when they saw their works that * a* these were but imitations thrice removed from the truth, and could easily be made without any knowledge of the truth, { } because they are appearances only and not realities? or, after all, they may be in the right, and poets do really know the things about which they seem to the many to speak so well? the question, he said, should by all means be considered. [sidenote: he who could make the original would not make the image.] now do you suppose that if a person were able to make the original as well as the image, he would seriously devote himself to the image-making branch? would he allow imitation to be the ruling principle of his life, as if he had * b* nothing higher in him? i should say not. the real artist, who knew what he was imitating, would be interested in realities and not in imitations; and would desire to leave as memorials of himself works many and fair; and, instead of being the author of encomiums, he would prefer to be the theme of them. yes, he said, that would be to him a source of much greater honour and profit. [sidenote: if homer had been a legislator, or general, or inventor,] then, i said, we must put a question to homer; not about * c* medicine, or any of the arts to which his poems only incidentally refer: we are not going to ask him, or any other poet, whether he has cured patients like asclepius, or left behind him a school of medicine such as the asclepiads were, or whether he only talks about medicine and other arts at second-hand; but we have a right to know respecting military tactics, politics, education, which are the chiefest * d* and noblest subjects of his poems, and we may fairly ask him about them. 'friend homer,' then we say to him, 'if you are only in the second remove from truth in what you say of virtue, and not in the third--not an image maker or imitator--and if you are able to discern what pursuits make men better or worse in private or public life, tell us what state was ever better governed by your help? the good * e* order of lacedaemon is due to lycurgus, and many other cities great and small have been similarly benefited by others; but who says that you have been a good legislator to them and have done them any good? italy and sicily boast of charondas, and there is solon who is renowned among us; but what city has anything to say about you?' is there any city which he might name? i think not, said glaucon; not even the homerids themselves pretend that he was a legislator. { } * a* well, but is there any war on record which was carried on successfully by him, or aided by his counsels, when he was alive? there is not. or is there any invention[ ] of his, applicable to the arts or to human life, such as thales the milesian or anacharsis the scythian, and other ingenious men have conceived, which is attributed to him? [footnote: omitting [greek: ei)s].] there is absolutely nothing of the kind. but, if homer never did any public service, was he privately a guide or teacher of any? had he in his lifetime friends * b* who loved to associate with him, and who handed down to posterity an homeric way of life, such as was established by pythagoras who was so greatly beloved for his wisdom, and whose followers are to this day quite celebrated for the order which was named after him? nothing of the kind is recorded of him. for surely, socrates, creophylus, the companion of homer, that child of flesh, whose name always makes us laugh, might be more justly ridiculed for his stupidity, if, as is said, homer was * c* greatly neglected by him and others in his own day when he was alive? [sidenote: or had done anything else for the improvement of mankind, he would not have been allowed to starve.] yes, i replied, that is the tradition. but can you imagine, glaucon, that if homer had really been able to educate and improve mankind--if he had possessed knowledge and not been a mere imitator--can you imagine, i say, that he would not have had many followers, and been honoured and loved by them? protagoras of abdera, and prodicus of ceos, and a host of others, have only to whisper to their contemporaries: * d* 'you will never be able to manage either your own house or your own state until you appoint us to be your ministers of education'--and this ingenious device of theirs has such an effect in making men love them that their companions all but carry them about on their shoulders. and is it conceivable that the contemporaries of homer, or again of hesiod, would have allowed either of them to go about as rhapsodists, if they had really been able to make mankind virtuous? would they not have been as unwilling to part with them as with gold, and have compelled them to stay { } * e* at home with them? or, if the master would not stay, then the disciples would have followed him about everywhere, until they had got education enough? yes, socrates, that, i think, is quite true. [sidenote: the poets, like the painters, are but imitators;] then must we not infer that all these poetical individuals, beginning with homer, are only imitators; they copy images * a* of virtue and the like, but the truth they never reach? the poet is like a painter who, as we have already observed, will make a likeness of a cobbler though he understands nothing of cobbling; and his picture is good enough for those who know no more than he does, and judge only by colours and figures. quite so. in like manner the poet with his words and phrases[ ] may be said to lay on the colours of the several arts, himself understanding their nature only enough to imitate them; and other people, who are as ignorant as he is, and judge only from his words, imagine that if he speaks of cobbling, or of military tactics, or of anything else, in metre and harmony * b* and rhythm, he speaks very well--such is the sweet influence which melody and rhythm by nature have. and i think that you must have observed again and again what a poor appearance the tales of poets make when stripped of the colours which music puts upon them, and recited in simple prose. [footnote : or, 'with his nouns and verbs.'] yes, he said. they are like faces which were never really beautiful, but only blooming; and now the bloom of youth has passed away from them? exactly. [sidenote: they know nothing of true existence.] here is another point: the imitator or maker of the image knows nothing of true existence; he knows appearances only. * c* am i not right? yes. then let us have a clear understanding, and not be satisfied with half an explanation. proceed. of the painter we say that he will paint reins, and he will paint a bit? yes. { } and the worker in leather and brass will make them? certainly. [sidenote: the maker has more knowledge than the imitator, but less than the user. three arts, using, making, imitating.] but does the painter know the right form of the bit and reins? nay, hardly even the workers in brass and leather who make them; only the horseman who knows how to use them--he knows their right form. most true. and may we not say the same of all things? what? * d* that there are three arts which are concerned with all things: one which uses, another which makes, a third which imitates them? yes. [sidenote: goodness of things relative to use; hence the maker of them is instructed by the user.] and the excellence or beauty or truth of every structure, animate or inanimate, and of every action of man, is relative to the use for which nature or the artist has intended them. true. then the user of them must have the greatest experience of them, and he must indicate to the maker the good or bad qualities which develop themselves in use; for example, the flute-player will tell the flute-maker which of his flutes is satisfactory to the performer; he will tell him how he ought * e* to make them, and the other will attend to his instructions? of course. the one knows and therefore speaks with authority about the goodness and badness of flutes, while the other, confiding in him, will do what he is told by him? true. [sidenote: the maker has belief and not knowledge, the imitator neither.] the instrument is the same, but about the excellence or badness of it the maker will only attain to a correct belief; and this he will gain from him who knows, by talking to him * a* and being compelled to hear what he has to say, whereas the user will have knowledge? true. but will the imitator have either? will he know from use whether or no his drawing is correct or beautiful? or will he have right opinion from being compelled to associate with another who knows and gives him instructions about what he should draw? { } neither. then he will no more have true opinion than he will have knowledge about the goodness or badness of his imitations? i suppose not. the imitative artist will be in a brilliant state of intelligence about his own creations? nay, very much the reverse. * b* and still he will go on imitating without knowing what makes a thing good or bad, and may be expected therefore to imitate only that which appears to be good to the ignorant multitude? just so. thus far then we are pretty well agreed that the imitator has no knowledge worth mentioning of what he imitates. imitation is only a kind of play or sport, and the tragic poets, whether they write in iambic or in heroic verse, are imitators in the highest degree? very true. [sidenote: imitation has been proved to be thrice removed from the truth.] * c* and now tell me, i conjure you, has not imitation been shown by us to be concerned with that which is thrice removed from the truth? certainly. and what is the faculty in man to which imitation is addressed? what do you mean? i will explain: the body which is large when seen near, appears small when seen at a distance? true. and the same object appears straight when looked at out of the water, and crooked when in the water; and the concave becomes convex, owing to the illusion about colours to which the sight is liable. thus every sort of confusion is revealed within us; * d* and this is that weakness of the human mind on which the art of conjuring and of deceiving by light and shadow and other ingenious devices imposes, having an effect upon us like magic. true. [sidenote: the art of measuring given to man that he may correct the variety of appearances.] and the arts of measuring and numbering and weighing come to the rescue of the human understanding--there { } is the beauty of them--and the apparent greater or less, or more or heavier, no longer have the mastery over us, but give way before calculation and measure and weight? most true. * e* and this, surely, must be the work of the calculating and rational principle in the soul? to be sure. and when this principle measures and certifies that some things are equal, or that some are greater or less than others, there occurs an apparent contradiction? true. but were we not saying that such a contradiction is impossible--the same faculty cannot have contrary opinions at the same time about the same thing? very true. * a* then that part of the soul which has an opinion contrary to measure is not the same with that which has an opinion in accordance with measure? true. and the better part of the soul is likely to be that which trusts to measure and calculation? certainly. and that which is opposed to them is one of the inferior principles of the soul? no doubt. this was the conclusion at which i was seeking to arrive when i said that painting or drawing, and imitation in general, when doing their own proper work, are far removed from truth, and the companions and friends and associates of * b* a principle within us which is equally removed from reason, and that they have no true or healthy aim. exactly. [sidenote: the productions of the imitative arts are bastard and illegitimate.] the imitative art is an inferior who marries an inferior, and has inferior offspring. very true. and is this confined to the sight only, or does it extend to the hearing also, relating in fact to what we term poetry? probably the same would be true of poetry. do not rely, i said, on a probability derived from the analogy of painting; but let us examine further and see { } * c* whether the faculty with which poetical imitation is concerned is good or bad. by all means. we may state the question thus:--imitation imitates the actions of men, whether voluntary or involuntary, on which, as they imagine, a good or bad result has ensued, and they rejoice or sorrow accordingly. is there anything more? no, there is nothing else. [sidenote: they imitate opposites;] but in all this variety of circumstances is the man at unity * d* with himself--or rather, as in the instance of sight there was confusion and opposition in his opinions about the same things, so here also is there not strife and inconsistency in his life? though i need hardly raise the question again, for i remember that all this has been already admitted; and the soul has been acknowledged by us to be full of these and ten thousand similar oppositions occurring at the same moment? and we were right, he said. yes, i said, thus far we were right; but there was an * e* omission which must now be supplied. what was the omission? were we not saying that a good man, who has the misfortune to lose his son or anything else which is most dear to him, will bear the loss with more equanimity than another? yes. [sidenote: they encourage weakness;] but will he have no sorrow, or shall we say that although he cannot help sorrowing, he will moderate his sorrow? the latter, he said, is the truer statement. * a* tell me: will he be more likely to struggle and hold out against his sorrow when he is seen by his equals, or when he is alone? it will make a great difference whether he is seen or not. when he is by himself he will not mind saying or doing many things which he would be ashamed of any one hearing or seeing him do? true. there is a principle of law and reason in him which bids him resist, as well as a feeling of his misfortune which is * b* forcing him to indulge his sorrow? { } true. but when a man is drawn in two opposite directions, to and from the same object, this, as we affirm, necessarily implies two distinct principles in him? certainly. one of them is ready to follow the guidance of the law? how do you mean? [sidenote: they are at variance with the exhortations of philosophy;] the law would say that to be patient under suffering is best, and that we should not give way to impatience, as there is no knowing whether such things are good or evil; and nothing is gained by impatience; also, because no human * c* thing is of serious importance, and grief stands in the way of that which at the moment is most required. what is most required? he asked. that we should take counsel about what has happened, and when the dice have been thrown order our affairs in the way which reason deems best; not, like children who have had a fall, keeping hold of the part struck and wasting time in setting up a howl, but always accustoming the soul forthwith * d* to apply a remedy, raising up that which is sickly and fallen, banishing the cry of sorrow by the healing art. yes, he said, that is the true way of meeting the attacks of fortune. yes, i said; and the higher principle is ready to follow this suggestion of reason? clearly. [sidenote: they recall trouble and sorrow;] and the other principle, which inclines us to recollection of our troubles and to lamentation, and can never have enough of them, we may call irrational, useless, and cowardly? indeed, we may. * e* and does not the latter--i mean the rebellious principle--furnish a great variety of materials for imitation? whereas the wise and calm temperament, being always nearly equable, is not easy to imitate or to appreciate when imitated, especially at a public festival when a promiscuous crowd is assembled in a theatre. for the feeling represented is one to which they are strangers. * a* certainly. then the imitative poet who aims at being popular is not { } by nature made, nor is his art intended, to please or to affect the rational principle in the soul; but he will prefer the passionate and fitful temper, which is easily imitated? clearly. [sidenote: they minister in an inferior manner to an inferior principle in the soul.] and now we may fairly take him and place him by the side of the painter, for he is like him in two ways: first, inasmuch as his creations have an inferior degree of truth--in this, * b* i say, he is like him; and he is also like him in being concerned with an inferior part of the soul; and therefore we shall be right in refusing to admit him into a well-ordered state, because he awakens and nourishes and strengthens the feelings and impairs the reason. as in a city when the evil are permitted to have authority and the good are put out of the way, so in the soul of man, as we maintain, the imitative poet implants an evil constitution, for he indulges the * c* irrational nature which has no discernment of greater and less, but thinks the same thing at one time great and at another small--he is a manufacturer of images and is very far removed from the truth[ ]. [footnote : reading [greek: ei)dôlopoiou=nta ... a)phestô=ta].] exactly. but we have not yet brought forward the heaviest count in our accusation:--the power which poetry has of harming even the good (and there are very few who are not harmed), is surely an awful thing? yes, certainly, if the effect is what you say. [sidenote: how can we be right in sympathizing with the sorrows of poetry when we would fain restrain those of real life?] hear and judge: the best of us, as i conceive, when we listen to a passage of homer, or one of the tragedians, in * d* which he represents some pitiful hero who is drawling out his sorrows in a long oration, or weeping, and smiting his breast--the best of us, you know, delight in giving way to sympathy, and are in raptures at the excellence of the poet who stirs our feelings most. yes, of course i know. but when any sorrow of our own happens to us, then you may observe that we pride ourselves on the opposite quality--we would fain be quiet and patient; this is the manly part, * e* and the other which delighted us in the recitation is now deemed to be the part of a woman. very true, he said. { } now can we be right in praising and admiring another who is doing that which any one of us would abominate and be ashamed of in his own person? no, he said, that is certainly not reasonable. * a* nay, i said, quite reasonable from one point of view. what point of view? [sidenote: we fail to observe that a sentimental pity soon creates a real weakness.] if you consider, i said, that when in misfortune we feel a natural hunger and desire to relieve our sorrow by weeping and lamentation, and that this feeling which is kept under control in our own calamities is satisfied and delighted by the poets;--the better nature in each of us, not having been sufficiently trained by reason or habit, allows the sympathetic * b* element to break loose because the sorrow is another's; and the spectator fancies that there can be no disgrace to himself in praising and pitying any one who comes telling him what a good man he is, and making a fuss about his troubles; he thinks that the pleasure is a gain, and why should he be supercilious and lose this and the poem too? few persons ever reflect, as i should imagine, that from the evil of other men something of evil is communicated to themselves. and so the feeling of sorrow which has gathered strength at the sight of the misfortunes of others is with difficulty repressed in our own. * c* how very true! [sidenote: in like manner the love of comedy may turn a man into a buffoon.] and does not the same hold also of the ridiculous? there are jests which you would be ashamed to make yourself, and yet on the comic stage, or indeed in private, when you hear them, you are greatly amused by them, and are not at all disgusted at their unseemliness;--the case of pity is repeated;--there is a principle in human nature which is disposed to raise a laugh, and this which you once restrained by reason, because you were afraid of being thought a buffoon, is now let out again; and having stimulated the risible faculty at the theatre, you are betrayed unconsciously to yourself into playing the comic poet at home. quite true, he said. * d* and the same may be said of lust and anger and all the other affections, of desire and pain and pleasure, which are held to be inseparable from every action--in all of them { } poetry feeds and waters the passions instead of drying them up; she lets them rule, although they ought to be controlled, if mankind are ever to increase in happiness and virtue. i cannot deny it. [sidenote: we are lovers of homer, but we must expel him from our state.] * e* therefore, glaucon, i said, whenever you meet with any of the eulogists of homer declaring that he has been the educator of hellas, and that he is profitable for education and for the ordering of human things, and that you should * a* take him up again and again and get to know him and regulate your whole life according to him, we may love and honour those who say these things--they are excellent people, as far as their lights extend; and we are ready to acknowledge that homer is the greatest of poets and first of tragedy writers; but we must remain firm in our conviction that hymns to the gods and praises of famous men are the only poetry which ought to be admitted into our state. for if you go beyond this and allow the honeyed muse to enter, either in epic or lyric verse, not law and the reason of mankind, which by common consent have ever been deemed best, but pleasure and pain will be the rulers in our state. that is most true, he said. [sidenote: apology to the poets.] * b* and now since we have reverted to the subject of poetry, let this our defence serve to show the reasonableness of our former judgment in sending away out of our state an art having the tendencies which we have described; for reason constrained us. but that she may not impute to us any harshness or want of politeness, let us tell her that there is an ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry; of which there are many proofs, such as the saying of 'the yelping hound howling at her lord,' or of one 'mighty in * c* the vain talk of fools,' and 'the mob of sages circumventing zeus,' and the 'subtle thinkers who are beggars after all'; and there are innumerable other signs of ancient enmity between them. notwithstanding this, let us assure our sweet friend and the sister arts of imitation, that if she will only prove her title to exist in a well-ordered state we shall be delighted to receive her--we are very conscious of her charms; but we may not on that account betray the truth. { } i dare say, glaucon, that you are as much charmed by her * d* as i am, especially when she appears in homer? yes, indeed, i am greatly charmed. shall i propose, then, that she be allowed to return from exile, but upon this condition only--that she make a defence of herself in lyrical or some other metre? certainly. and we may further grant to those of her defenders who are lovers of poetry and yet not poets the permission to speak in prose on her behalf: let them show not only that she is pleasant but also useful to states and to human life, and we will listen in a kindly spirit; for if this can be proved * e* we shall surely be the gainers--i mean, if there is a use in poetry as well as a delight? certainly, he said, we shall be the gainers. [sidenote: poetry is attractive but not true.] if her defence fails, then, my dear friend, like other persons who are enamoured of something, but put a restraint upon themselves when they think their desires are opposed to their interests, so too must we after the manner of lovers give her up, though not without a struggle. we too are inspired by that love of poetry which the education * a* of noble states has implanted in us, and therefore we would have her appear at her best and truest; but so long as she is unable to make good her defence, this argument of ours shall be a charm to us, which we will repeat to ourselves while we listen to her strains; that we may not fall away into the childish love of her which captivates the many. at all events we are well aware[ ] that poetry being such as we have described is not to be regarded seriously as attaining to the truth; and he who listens to her, fearing for the safety of the * b* city which is within him, should be on his guard against her seductions and make our words his law. [footnote : or, if we accept madvig's ingenious but unnecessary emendation [greek: a)|so/metha], 'at all events we will sing, that' &c.] yes, he said, i quite agree with you. yes, i said, my dear glaucon, for great is the issue at stake, greater than appears, whether a man is to be good or bad. and what will any one be profited if under the influence of honour or money or power, aye, or under the excitement of poetry, he neglect justice and virtue? { } yes, he said; i have been convinced by the argument, as i believe that any one else would have been. * c* and yet no mention has been made of the greatest prizes and rewards which await virtue. what, are there any greater still? if there are, they must be of an inconceivable greatness. [sidenote: the rewards of virtue extend not only to this little space of human life but to the whole of existence.] why, i said, what was ever great in a short time? the whole period of three score years and ten is surely but a little thing in comparison with eternity? say rather 'nothing,' he replied. and should an immortal being seriously think of this little * d* space rather than of the whole? of the whole, certainly. but why do you ask? are you not aware, i said, that the soul of man is immortal and imperishable? he looked at me in astonishment, and said: no, by heaven: and are you really prepared to maintain this? yes, i said, i ought to be, and you too--there is no difficulty in proving it. i see a great difficulty; but i should like to hear you state this argument of which you make so light. listen then. i am attending. there is a thing which you call good and another which you call evil? yes, he replied. * e* would you agree with me in thinking that the corrupting and destroying element is the evil, and the saving and improving element the good? yes. [sidenote: everything has a good and an evil, and if not destroyed by its own evil, will not be destroyed by that of another.] and you admit that every thing has a good and also an evil; * a* as ophthalmia is the evil of the eyes and disease of the whole body; as mildew is of corn, and rot of timber, or rust of copper and iron: in everything, or in almost everything, there is an inherent evil and disease? yes, he said. and anything which is infected by any of these evils is made evil, and at last wholly dissolves and dies? true. the vice and evil which is inherent in each is the destruction { } of each; and if this does not destroy them there is nothing else that will; * b* for good certainly will not destroy them, nor again, that which is neither good nor evil. certainly not. if, then, we find any nature which having this inherent corruption cannot be dissolved or destroyed, we may be certain that of such a nature there is no destruction? that may be assumed. well, i said, and is there no evil which corrupts the soul? yes, he said, there are all the evils which we were just now * c* passing in review: unrighteousness, intemperance, cowardice, ignorance. [sidenote: therefore, if the soul cannot be destroyed by moral evil, she certainly will not be destroyed by physical evil.] but does any of these dissolve or destroy her?--and here do not let us fall into the error of supposing that the unjust and foolish man, when he is detected, perishes through his own injustice, which is an evil of the soul. take the analogy of the body: the evil of the body is a disease which wastes and reduces and annihilates the body; and all the things of which we were just now speaking come to annihilation * d* through their own corruption attaching to them and inhering in them and so destroying them. is not this true? yes. consider the soul in like manner. does the injustice or other evil which exists in the soul waste and consume her? do they by attaching to the soul and inhering in her at last bring her to death, and so separate her from the body? certainly not. and yet, i said, it is unreasonable to suppose that anything can perish from without through affection of external evil which could not be destroyed from within by a corruption of its own? it is, he replied. * e* consider, i said, glaucon, that even the badness of food, whether staleness, decomposition, or any other bad quality, when confined to the actual food, is not supposed to destroy the body; although, if the badness of food communicates corruption to the body, then we should say that the body * a* has been destroyed by a corruption of itself, which is disease, brought on by this; but that the body, being one thing, can be destroyed by the badness of food, which { } is another, and which does not engender any natural infection--this we shall absolutely deny? very true. [sidenote: evil means the contagion of evil, and the evil of the body does not infect the soul.] and, on the same principle, unless some bodily evil can produce an evil of the soul, we must not suppose that the soul, which is one thing, can be dissolved by any merely external evil which belongs to another? yes, he said, there is reason in that. either, then, let us refute this conclusion, or, while it * b* remains unrefuted, let us never say that fever, or any other disease, or the knife put to the throat, or even the cutting up of the whole body into the minutest pieces, can destroy the soul, until she herself is proved to become more unholy or unrighteous in consequence of these things being done to the body; but that the soul, or anything else if not destroyed * c* by an internal evil, can be destroyed by an external one, is not to be affirmed by any man. and surely, he replied, no one will ever prove that the souls of men become more unjust in consequence of death. but if some one who would rather not admit the immortality of the soul boldly denies this, and says that the dying do really become more evil and unrighteous, then, if the speaker is right, i suppose that injustice, like disease, must be assumed to be fatal to the unjust, and that those who take * d* this disorder die by the natural inherent power of destruction which evil has, and which kills them sooner or later, but in quite another way from that in which, at present, the wicked receive death at the hands of others as the penalty of their deeds? nay, he said, in that case injustice, if fatal to the unjust, will not be so very terrible to him, for he will be delivered from evil. but i rather suspect the opposite to be the truth, * e* and that injustice which, if it have the power, will murder others, keeps the murderer alive--aye, and well awake too; so far removed is her dwelling-place from being a house of death. true, i said; if the inherent natural vice or evil of the soul is unable to kill or destroy her, hardly will that which is appointed to be the destruction of some other body, destroy a soul or anything else except that of which it was appointed to be the destruction. { } yes, that can hardly be. but the soul which cannot be destroyed by an evil, whether * a* inherent or external, must exist for ever, and if existing for ever, must be immortal? certainly. [sidenote: if the soul is indestructible, the number of souls can never increase or diminish.] that is the conclusion, i said; and, if a true conclusion, then the souls must always be the same, for if none be destroyed they will not diminish in number. neither will they increase, for the increase of the immortal natures must come from something mortal, and all things would thus end in immortality. very true. * b* but this we cannot believe--reason will not allow us--any more than we can believe the soul, in her truest nature, to be full of variety and difference and dissimilarity. what do you mean? he said. the soul, i said, being, as is now proven, immortal, must be the fairest of compositions and cannot be compounded of many elements? certainly not. [sidenote: the soul, if she is to be seen truly, should be stripped of the accidents of earth.] her immortality is demonstrated by the previous argument, and there are many other proofs; but to see her as she * c* really is, not as we now behold her, marred by communion with the body and other miseries, you must contemplate her with the eye of reason, in her original purity; and then her beauty will be revealed, and justice and injustice and all the things which we have described will be manifested more clearly. thus far, we have spoken the truth concerning her as she appears at present, but we must remember also that we have seen her only in a condition which may be compared * d* to that of the sea-god glaucus, whose original image can hardly be discerned because his natural members are broken off and crushed and damaged by the waves in all sorts of ways, and incrustations have grown over them of seaweed and shells and stones, so that he is more like some monster than he is to his own natural form. and the soul which we behold is in a similar condition, disfigured by ten thousand ills. but not there, glaucon, not there must we look. where then? [sidenote: her true conversation is with the eternal.] * e* at her love of wisdom. let us see whom she affects, and { } what society and converse she seeks in virtue of her near kindred with the immortal and eternal and divine; also how different she would become if wholly following this superior principle, and borne by a divine impulse out of the ocean in which she now is, and disengaged from the stones and shells and things of earth and rock which in wild variety spring up * a* around her because she feeds upon earth, and is overgrown by the good things of this life as they are termed: then you would see her as she is, and know whether she have one shape only or many, or what her nature is. of her affections and of the forms which she takes in this present life i think that we have now said enough. true, he replied. [sidenote: having put aside for argument's sake the rewards of virtue, we may now claim to have them restored.] and thus, i said, we have fulfilled the conditions of the argument[ ]; * b* we have not introduced the rewards and glories of justice, which, as you were saying, are to be found in homer and hesiod; but justice in her own nature has been shown to be best for the soul in her own nature. let a man do what is just, whether he have the ring of gyges or not, and even if in addition to the ring of gyges he put on the helmet of hades. [footnote : reading [greek: a)pelusa/metha].] very true. and now, glaucon, there will be no harm in further enumerating how many and how great are the rewards which * c* justice and the other virtues procure to the soul from gods and men, both in life and after death. certainly not, he said. will you repay me, then, what you borrowed in the argument? what did i borrow? the assumption that the just man should appear unjust and the unjust just: for you were of opinion that even if the true state of the case could not possibly escape the eyes of gods and men, still this admission ought to be made for the sake of the argument, in order that pure justice might be * d* weighed against pure injustice. do you remember? i should be much to blame if i had forgotten. then, as the cause is decided, i demand on behalf of justice that the estimation in which she is held by gods and { } men and which we acknowledge to be her due should now be restored to her by us[ ]; since she has been shown to confer reality, and not to deceive those who truly possess her, let what has been taken from her be given back, that so she may win that palm of appearance which is hers also, and which she gives to her own. [footnote : reading [greek: ê(mô=n].] * e* the demand, he said, is just. in the first place, i said--and this is the first thing which you will have to give back--the nature both of the just and unjust is truly known to the gods. granted. [sidenote: the just man is the friend of the gods, and all things work together for his good.] and if they are both known to them, one must be the friend and the other the enemy of the gods, as we admitted from the beginning? true. * a* and the friend of the gods may be supposed to receive from them all things at their best, excepting only such evil as is the necessary consequence of former sins? certainly. then this must be our notion of the just man, that even when he is in poverty or sickness, or any other seeming misfortune, all things will in the end work together for good to him in life and death: for the gods have a care of any one whose desire is to become just and to be like god, as far as * b* man can attain the divine likeness, by the pursuit of virtue? yes, he said; if he is like god he will surely not be neglected by him. [sidenote: the unjust is the opposite.] and of the unjust may not the opposite be supposed? certainly. such, then, are the palms of victory which the gods give the just? that is my conviction. [sidenote: he may be compared to a runner who is only good at the start.] and what do they receive of men? look at things as they really are, and you will see that the clever unjust are in the case of runners, who run well from the starting-place to the goal but not back again from the goal: they go off at a great pace, * c* but in the end only look foolish, slinking away with their ears draggling on their shoulders, and without a crown; but the true runner comes to the finish and receives the { } prize and is crowned. and this is the way with the just; he who endures to the end of every action and occasion of his entire life has a good report and carries off the prize which men have to bestow. true. [sidenote: [sidenote: recapitulation of things unfit for ears polite which had been described by glaucon in book ii.]] and now you must allow me to repeat of the just the blessings which you were attributing to the fortunate unjust. * d* i shall say of them, what you were saying of the others, that as they grow older, they become rulers in their own city if they care to be; they marry whom they like and give in marriage to whom they will; all that you said of the others i now say of these. and, on the other hand, of the unjust i say that the greater number, even though they escape in their youth, are found out at last and look foolish at the end of their course, and when they come to be old and miserable are flouted alike by stranger and citizen; they are beaten and * e* then come those things unfit for ears polite, as you truly term them; they will be racked and have their eyes burned out, as you were saying. and you may suppose that i have repeated the remainder of your tale of horrors. but will you let me assume, without reciting them, that these things are true? certainly, he said, what you say is true. * a* these, then, are the prizes and rewards and gifts which are bestowed upon the just by gods and men in this present life, in addition to the other good things which justice of herself provides. yes, he said; and they are fair and lasting. and yet, i said, all these are as nothing either in number or greatness in comparison with those other recompenses which await both just and unjust after death. and you ought to hear them, and then both just and unjust will have received from us a full payment of the debt which the argument owes to them. * b* speak, he said; there are few things which i would more gladly hear. [sidenote: socrates.] [sidenote: the vision of er.] [sidenote: the judgement.] [sidenote: the two openings in heaven and the two in earth through which passed those who were beginning and those who had completed their pilgrimage.] [sidenote: the meeting in the meadow.] [sidenote: the punishment tenfold the sin.] [sidenote: 'unbaptized infants.'] [sidenote: ardiaeus the tyrant.] [sidenote: incurable sinners.] well, i said, i will tell you a tale; not one of the tales which odysseus tells to the hero alcinous, yet this too is a tale of a hero, er the son of armenius, a pamphylian by birth. he was slain in battle, and ten days afterwards, when the bodies of the dead were taken up already in a state of corruption, his body was found unaffected by decay, and { } carried away home to be buried. and on the twelfth day, as he was lying on the funeral pile, he returned to life and told them what he had seen in the other world. he said that when his soul left the body he went on a journey with a great company, * c* and that they came to a mysterious place at which there were two openings in the earth; they were near together, and over against them were two other openings in the heaven above. in the intermediate space there were judges seated, who commanded the just, after they had given judgment on them and had bound their sentences in front of them, to ascend by the heavenly way on the right hand; and in like manner the unjust were bidden by them to descend by the lower way on the left hand; these also bore the symbols of their deeds, but fastened on their backs. he drew near, * d* and they told him that he was to be the messenger who would carry the report of the other world to men, and they bade him hear and see all that was to be heard and seen in that place. then he beheld and saw on one side the souls departing at either opening of heaven and earth when sentence had been given on them; and at the two other openings other souls, some ascending out of the earth dusty and worn with travel, some descending out of heaven clean and bright. and * e* arriving ever and anon they seemed to have come from a long journey, and they went forth with gladness into the meadow, where they encamped as at a festival; and those who knew one another embraced and conversed, the souls which came from earth curiously enquiring about the things above, and the souls which came from heaven about the things beneath. and they told one another of what had happened by the way, those from below weeping and sorrowing * a* at the remembrance of the things which they had endured and seen in their journey beneath the earth (now the journey lasted a thousand years), while those from above were describing heavenly delights and visions of inconceivable beauty. the story, glaucon, would take too long to tell; but the sum was this:--he said that for every wrong which they had done to any one they suffered tenfold; or once in a hundred years--such being reckoned to be the length * b* of man's life, and the penalty being thus paid ten times in a thousand years. if, for example, there were any who had been { } the cause of many deaths, or had betrayed or enslaved cities or armies, or been guilty of any other evil behaviour, for each and all of their offences they received punishment ten times over, and the rewards of beneficence and justice and * c* holiness were in the same proportion. i need hardly repeat what he said concerning young children dying almost as soon as they were born. of piety and impiety to gods and parents, and of murderers[ ], there were retributions other and greater far which he described. he mentioned that he was present when one of the spirits asked another, 'where is ardiaeus the great?' (now this ardiaeus lived a thousand years before the time of er: he had been the tyrant of some city of pamphylia, and had murdered his aged father and his elder brother, * d* and was said to have committed many other abominable crimes.) the answer of the other spirit was: 'he comes not hither and will never come. and this,' said he, 'was one of the dreadful sights which we ourselves witnessed. we were at the mouth of the cavern, and, having completed all our experiences, were about to reascend, when of a sudden ardiaeus appeared and several others, most of whom were tyrants; and there were also besides the tyrants private individuals * e* who had been great criminals: they were just, as they fancied, about to return into the upper world, but the mouth, instead of admitting them, gave a roar, whenever any of these incurable sinners or some one who had not been sufficiently punished tried to ascend; and then wild men of fiery aspect, who were standing by and heard the sound, * a* seized and carried them off; and ardiaeus and others they bound head and foot and hand, and threw them down and flayed them with scourges, and dragged them along the road at the side, carding them on thorns like wool, and declaring to the passers-by what were their crimes, and that[ ] they were being taken away to be cast into hell.' and of all the many terrors which they had endured, he said that there was none like the terror which each of them felt at that moment, lest they should hear the voice; and when there was silence, one by one they ascended with exceeding joy. these, said er, were the penalties and retributions, and there were blessings as great. { } [footnote : reading [greek: au)to/cheiras].] [footnote : reading [greek: kai\ o(/ti].] [sidenote: the whorls representing the spheres of the heavenly bodies.] * b* now when the spirits which were in the meadow had tarried seven days, on the eighth they were obliged to proceed on their journey, and, on the fourth day after, he said that they came to a place where they could see from above a line of light, straight as a column, extending right through the whole heaven and through the earth, in colour resembling the rainbow, only brighter and purer; another day's journey brought them to the place, and there, in the * c* midst of the light, they saw the ends of the chains of heaven let down from above: for this light is the belt of heaven, and holds together the circle of the universe, like the under-girders of a trireme. from these ends is extended the spindle of necessity, on which all the revolutions turn. the shaft and hook of this spindle are made of steel, and the whorl is made partly of steel and also partly of other materials. * d* now the whorl is in form like the whorl used on earth; and the description of it implied that there is one large hollow whorl which is quite scooped out, and into this is fitted another lesser one, and another, and another, and four others, making eight in all, like vessels which fit into one another; the whorls show their edges on the upper side, and on their * e* lower side all together form one continuous whorl. this is pierced by the spindle, which is driven home through the centre of the eighth. the first and outermost whorl has the rim broadest, and the seven inner whorls are narrower, in the following proportions--the sixth is next to the first in size, the fourth next to the sixth; then comes the eighth; the seventh is fifth, the fifth is sixth, the third is seventh, last and eighth comes the second. the largest [or fixed stars] is spangled, and the seventh [or sun] is brightest; the eighth [or moon] * a* coloured by the reflected light of the seventh; the second and fifth [saturn and mercury] are in colour like one another, and yellower than the preceding; the third [venus] has the whitest light; the fourth [mars] is reddish; the sixth [jupiter] is in whiteness second. now the whole spindle has the same motion; but, as the whole revolves in one direction, the seven inner circles move slowly in the other, and of these the swiftest is the eighth; next in swiftness are the * b* seventh, sixth, and fifth, which move together; third in swiftness appeared to move according to the law of this { } reversed motion the fourth; the third appeared fourth and the second fifth. the spindle turns on the knees of necessity; and on the upper surface of each circle is a siren, who goes round with them, hymning a single tone or note. the eight together form one harmony; and round about, at equal intervals, * c* there is another band, three in number, each sitting upon her throne: these are the fates, daughters of necessity, who are clothed in white robes and have chaplets upon their heads, lachesis and clotho and atropos, who accompany with their voices the harmony of the sirens--lachesis singing of the past, clotho of the present, atropos of the future; clotho from time to time assisting with a touch of her right hand the revolution of the outer circle of the whorl or spindle, and atropos with her left hand touching and guiding the inner ones, and lachesis laying * d* hold of either in turn, first with one hand and then with the other. [sidenote: the proclamation of the free choice.] [sidenote: the complexity of circumstances,] [sidenote: and their relation to the human soul.] when er and the spirits arrived, their duty was to go at once to lachesis; but first of all there came a prophet who arranged them in order; then he took from the knees of lachesis lots and samples of lives, and having mounted a high pulpit, spoke as follows: 'hear the word of lachesis, the daughter of necessity. mortal souls, behold a new cycle of life and mortality. your genius will not be allotted to you, * e* but you will choose your genius; and let him who draws the first lot have the first choice, and the life which he chooses shall be his destiny. virtue is free, and as a man honours or dishonours her he will have more or less of her; the responsibility is with the chooser--god is justified.' when the interpreter had thus spoken he scattered lots indifferently among them all, and each of them took up the lot which fell near him, all but er himself (he was not allowed), and each as he took his lot perceived the number which he had obtained. * a* then the interpreter placed on the ground before them the samples of lives; and there were many more lives than the souls present, and they were of all sorts. there were lives of every animal and of man in every condition. and there were tyrannies among them, some lasting out the tyrant's life, others which broke off in the middle and came to an end in poverty and exile and beggary; and there were { } lives of famous men, some who were famous for their form and beauty as well as for their strength and success in games, * b* or, again, for their birth and the qualities of their ancestors; and some who were the reverse of famous for the opposite qualities. and of women likewise; there was not, however, any definite character in them, because the soul, when choosing a new life, must of necessity become different. but there was every other quality, and the all mingled with one another, and also with elements of wealth and poverty, and disease and health; and there were mean states also. and here, my dear glaucon, is the supreme peril of our human state; and therefore the utmost care should be taken. * c* let each one of us leave every other kind of knowledge and seek and follow one thing only, if peradventure he may be able to learn and may find some one who will make him able to learn and discern between good and evil, and so to choose always and everywhere the better life as he has opportunity. he should consider the bearing of all these things which have been mentioned severally and collectively upon virtue; he should know what the effect of beauty is when combined with poverty or wealth in a * d* particular soul, and what are the good and evil consequences of noble and humble birth, of private and public station, of strength and weakness, of cleverness and dullness, and of all the natural and acquired gifts of the soul, and the operation of them when conjoined; he will then look at the nature of the soul, and from the consideration of all these qualities he will be able to determine which is the better and which is the worse; and so he will choose, giving the name * e* of evil to the life which will make his soul more unjust, and good to the life which will make his soul more just; all else he will disregard. for we have seen and know that this is * a* the best choice both in life and after death. a man must take with him into the world below an adamantine faith in truth and right, that there too he may be undazzled by the desire of wealth or the other allurements of evil, lest, coming upon tyrannies and similar villainies, he do irremediable wrongs to others and suffer yet worse himself; but let him know how to choose the mean and avoid the extremes on either side, as far as possible, not only in this life but { } in all * b* that which is to come. for this is the way of happiness. [sidenote: habit not enough without philosophy when circumstances change.] [sidenote: the spectacle of the election.] and according to the report of the messenger from the other world this was what the prophet said at the time: 'even for the last comer, if he chooses wisely and will live diligently, there is appointed a happy and not undesirable existence. let not him who chooses first be careless, and let not the last despair.' and when he had spoken, he who had the first choice came forward and in a moment chose the greatest tyranny; his mind having been darkened by folly and sensuality, he had not thought out the whole matter before he chose, and did not at first sight perceive that he * c* was fated, among other evils, to devour his own children. but when he had time to reflect, and saw what was in the lot, he began to beat his breast and lament over his choice, forgetting the proclamation of the prophet; for, instead of throwing the blame of his misfortune on himself, he accused chance and the gods, and everything rather than himself. now he was one of those who came from heaven, and in a former life had dwelt in a well-ordered state, but his virtue * d* was a matter of habit only, and he had no philosophy. and it was true of others who were similarly overtaken, that the greater number of them came from heaven and therefore they had never been schooled by trial, whereas the pilgrims who came from earth having themselves suffered and seen others suffer, were not in a hurry to choose. and owing to this inexperience of theirs, and also because the lot was a chance, many of the souls exchanged a good destiny for an evil or an evil for a good. for if a man had always on his arrival in this world dedicated himself from the first to sound philosophy, * e* and had been moderately fortunate in the number of the lot, he might, as the messenger reported, be happy here, and also his journey to another life and return to this, instead of being rough and underground, would be smooth and heavenly. most curious, he said, was the spectacle--sad and laughable and strange; for the choice of the souls * a* was in most cases based on their experience of a previous life. there he saw the soul which had once been orpheus choosing the life of a swan out of enmity to the race of women, hating to be born of a woman because they had { } been his murderers; he beheld also the soul of thamyras choosing the life of a nightingale; birds, on the other hand, like the swan and other musicians, wanting to be men. the * b* soul which obtained the twentieth[ ] lot chose the life of a lion, and this was the soul of ajax the son of telamon, who would not be a man, remembering the injustice which was done him in the judgment about the arms. the next was agamemnon, who took the life of an eagle, because, like ajax, he hated human nature by reason of his sufferings. about the middle came the lot of atalanta; she, seeing the great fame of an athlete, was unable to resist the temptation: and after her * c* there followed the soul of epeus the son of panopeus passing into the nature of a woman cunning in the arts; and far away among the last who chose, the soul of the jester thersites was putting on the form of a monkey. there came also the soul of odysseus having yet to make a choice, and his lot happened to be the last of them all. now the recollection of former toils had disenchanted him of ambition, and he went about for a considerable time in search of the life of a private man who had no cares; he had some difficulty in finding this, which was lying about and had been neglected by everybody else; * d* and when he saw it, he said that he would have done the same had his lot been first instead of last, and that he was delighted to have it. and not only did men pass into animals, but i must also mention that there were animals tame and wild who changed into one another and into corresponding human natures--the good into the gentle and the evil into the savage, in all sorts of combinations. [footnote : reading [greek: ei)kostê/n].] all the souls had now chosen their lives, and they went in the order of their choice to lachesis, who sent with them the genius whom they had severally chosen, to be the guardian * e* of their lives and the fulfiller of the choice: this genius led the souls first to clotho, and drew them within the revolution of the spindle impelled by her hand, thus ratifying the destiny of each; and then, when they were fastened to this, carried them to atropos, who spun the threads and made * a* them irreversible, whence without turning round they passed beneath the throne of necessity; and when they had all passed, they marched on in a scorching heat to the plain of { } forgetfulness, which was a barren waste destitute of trees and verdure; and then towards evening they encamped by the river of unmindfulness, whose water no vessel can hold; of this they were all obliged to drink a certain quantity, and those who were not saved by wisdom drank more than was necessary; and each one as he drank forgot all things. * b* now after they had gone to rest, about the middle of the night there was a thunderstorm and earthquake, and then in an instant they were driven upwards in all manner of ways to their birth, like stars shooting. he himself was hindered from drinking the water. but in what manner or by what means he returned to the body he could not say; only, in the morning, awaking suddenly, he found himself lying on the pyre. and thus, glaucon, the tale has been saved and has not perished, * c* and will save us if we are obedient to the word spoken; and we shall pass safely over the river of forgetfulness and our soul will not be defiled. wherefore my counsel is, that we hold fast ever to the heavenly way and follow after justice and virtue always, considering that the soul is immortal and able to endure every sort of good and every sort of evil. thus shall we live dear to one another and to the gods, both while remaining here and when, like * d* conquerors in the games who go round to gather gifts, we receive our reward. and it shall be well with us both in this life and in the pilgrimage of a thousand years which we have been describing. index. a. abdera, protagoras of, . c. abortion, allowed in certain cases, . c. absolute beauty, . , ; . a, b, b;--absolute good, . b; . a;--absolute justice, . ; . b; . e;--absolute swiftness and slowness, . d;--absolute temperance, . b; --absolute unity, . e, e;--the absolute and the many, . . abstract ideas, origin of, . . cp. idea. achaeans, . e, e, a, d, a. achilles, the son of peleus, third in descent from zeus, . c; his grief, _ib._ a; his avarice, cruelty, and insolence, _ib._ e, a, b; his master phoenix, _ib._ e. active life, age for, . , . actors, cannot perform both tragic and comic parts, . a. adeimantus, son of ariston, a person in the dialogue, . c; his genius, . a; distinguished at the battle of megara, _ibid._; takes up the discourse, _ib._ d, e, d; . a; . a; . e; urges socrates to speak in detail about the community of women and children, . . adrasteia, prayed to, . a. adultery, . a. aeschylus, quoted:-- s. c. t. , . c; " , . b, e; " _ib._ a; niobe, fr. , . e; " fr. , . a; xanthians, fr. , _ib._ d; fab. incert. , _ib._ b; " " , . c. aesculapius, _see_ asclepius. affinity, degrees of, . . agamemnon, his dream, . a; his gifts to achilles, . e; his anger against chryses, _ib._ e foll.; shown by palamedes in the play to be a ridiculous general, . d; his soul becomes an eagle, . b. age, for active life, . , ;--for marriage, . ;--for philosophy, . . agent and patient have the same qualities, . . aglaion, father of leontius, . e. agriculture, tools required for, . c. ajax, the son of telamon, . b; the reward of his bravery, . d; his soul turns into a lion, . b. alcinous, 'tales of,' . b. allegory, cannot be understood by the young, . e. ambition, disgraceful, . b (_cp._ . d); characteristic of the timocratic state and man, . , , b, e; easily passes into avarice, _ib._ e; assigned { } to the passionate element of the soul, . a;--ambitious men, . a; . b. ameles, the river ( = lethe), . a, c. amusement, a means of education, . a; . a. anacharsis, the scythian, his inventions, . a. analogy of the arts applied to rulers, . ; of the arts and justice, _ib._ ; of men and animals, . ; . . anapaestic rhythms, . b. anarchy, begins in music, . e [_cp._ laws . b]; in democracies, . d. anger, stirred by injustice, . . animals, liberty enjoyed by, in a democracy, . e, c; choose their destiny in the next world, . d [_cp._ phaedr. b]. anticipations of pleasure and pain, . d. aphroditè, bound by hephaestus, . c. apollo, song of, at the nuptials of thetis, . a; apollo and achilles, . a; chryses' prayer to, _ib._ a; lord of the lyre, _ib._ e; father of asclepius, _ib._ c; the god of delphi, . a. appearance, power of, . b, c. appetite, good and bad, . c. appetites, the, . ; . (_cp._ . ). appetitive element of the soul, . [_cp._ tim. e]; must be subordinate to reason and passion, . a; . d; may be described as the love of gain, . a. arcadia, temple of lycaean zeus in, . d. archilochus, quoted, . c. architecture, . c; necessity of pure taste in, . . ardiaeus, tyrant of pamphylia, his eternal punishment, . c, e. ares and aphroditè, . c. argos, agamemnon, king of, . e. argument, the longer and the shorter method of, . ; . ; misleading nature of (adeimantus), . ; youthful love of, . [_cp._ phil. e]. for the personification of the argument, _see_ personification. arion, . e. aristocracy (i.e. the ideal state or government of the best), . c (_cp._ . e, d, _and see_ state); mode of its decline, . ; --the aristocratical man, . b; . e (_see_ guardians, philosopher, ruler):--(in the ordinary sense of the word), . d. cp. constitution. ariston, father of glaucon, . a (_cp._ . a). aristonymus, father of cleitophon, . b. arithmetic, must be learnt by the rulers, . - ; use of, in forming ideas, _ib._ foll. (_cp._ . ); spirit in which it should be pursued, . d; common notions about, mistaken, _ib._ e; an excellent instrument of education, _ib._ [_cp._ laws . ]; employed in order to express the interval between the king and the tyrant, . . cp. mathematics. armenius, father of er, the pamphylian, . b. arms, throwing away of, disgraceful, . a; arms of hellenes not to be offered as trophies in the temples, _ib._ a. army needed in a state, . . art, influence of, on character, . foll.;--art of building, _ib._ a; . c; carpentry, . c; calculation, . , b; . { } ; cookery, . c; dyeing, . d; embroidery, . a; exchange, . c; measurement, . ; money-making, . ; . ; payment, . ; tactics, . e, b; weaving, . a; . d; weighing, . d;--the arts exercised for the good of their subject, . , - [_cp._ euthyph. ]; interested in their own perfection, . ; differ according to their functions, _ib._ ; full of grace, . a; must be subject to a censorship, _ib._ b; causes of the deterioration of, . ; employment of children in, . a; ideals in, _ib._ d; chiefly useful for practical purposes, . a;--the arts and philosophy, . e, c (cp. _supra_ . d, a);--the handicraft arts a reproach, . c;--the lesser arts ([greek: technu/dria]), . d; ([greek: te/chnia]), . d;--three arts concerned with all things, . . art. [_art, according to the conception of plato, is not a collection of canons of criticism, but a subtle influence which pervades all things animate as well as inanimate_ ( . , ). _he knows nothing of 'schools' or of the history of art, nor does he select any building or statue for condemnation or admiration._ [_cp._ protag. c, _where pheidias is casually mentioned as the typical sculptor, and_ meno d, _where socrates says that pheidias, 'although he wrought such exceedingly noble works,' did not make nearly so much money by them as protagoras did by his wisdom._] _plato judges art by one test, 'simplicity,' but under this he includes moderation, purity, and harmony of proportion; and he would extend to sculpture and architecture the same rigid censorship which he has already applied to poetry and music_ ( . a). _he dislikes the 'illusions' of painting_ ( . ) _and the 'false proportions' given by sculptors to their subjects_ (soph. e), _both of which he classes as a species of magic. with more justice he points out the danger of an excessive devotion to art;_ (cp. _the ludicrous pictures of the unmanly musician_ ( . ), _and of the dilettanti who run about to every chorus_ ( . )). _but he hopes to save his guardians from effeminacy by the severe discipline and training of their early years. sparta and athens are to be combined_ [_cp._ introduction, p. clxx]: _the citizens will live, as adeimantus complains, 'like a garrison of mercenaries'_ ( . ); _but they will be surrounded by an atmosphere of grace and beauty, which will insensibly instil noble and true ideas into their minds._] artisans, necessary in the state, . ; have no time to be ill, . d. artist, the great, . [_cp._ laws . e];--the true artist does not work for his own benefit, . , ;--artists must imitate the good only, . c. asclepiadae, . d, b; . c. asclepius, son of apollo, . c; not ignorant of the lingering treatment, _ib._ d; a statesman, _ib._ e; said by the poets to have been bribed to restore a rich man to life, _ib._ b; left disciples, . c;--descendants of, . a;--his sons at troy, _ibid._ assaults, trials for, will be unknown in the best state, . e. astronomy, must be studied by the rulers, . - ; spirit in which it should be pursued, _ib._ , . { } atalanta, chose the life of an athlete, . b. athené, not to be considered author of the strife between trojans and achaeans, . e. athenian confectionery, . e. athens, corpses exposed outside the northern wall of, . e. athlete, atalanta chooses the soul of an, . b; athletes, obliged to pay excessive attention to diet, . a; sleep away their lives, _ibid._; are apt to become brutalized, _ib._ , (cp. . d);--the guardians athletes of war, . e, b; . ; . e; . [_cp._ laws . ]. atridae, . a. atropos (one of the fates), her song, . c; spins the threads of destiny, and makes them irreversible, _ib._ e. attic confections, . e. audience, _see_ spectator. autolycus, praised by homer, . a. auxiliaries, the young warriors of the state, . ; compared to dogs, . ; . d; . d; have silver mingled in their veins, . a. cp. guardians. avarice, disgraceful, . b; forbidden in the guardians, . e; falsely imputed to achilles and asclepius by the poets, _ib._ b, c; characteristic of timocracy and oligarchy, . a, . b. barbarians, regard nakedness as improper, . ; the natural enemies of the hellenes, _ib._ d, c [_cp._ pol. d]; peculiar forms of government among, . d. beast, the great, . ; the many-headed, . , ; 'the wild beast within us,' _ib._ , . beautiful, the, and the good are one, . ;--the many beautiful contrasted with absolute beauty, . b. beauty as a means of education, . foll.; absolute beauty, . , ; . a, b, b [_cp._ laws . c]. becoming, the passage from, to being, . d, d, d. beds, the figure of the three, . . bee-masters, . c. being and not being, . ; true being the object of the philosopher's desire, . , , e, , c; . , d; . , c (cp. . e; . b, ; _and_ phaedo ; phaedr. ; theaet. e; soph. d, ); concerned with the invariable, . c. belief, _see_ faith. bendidea, a feast of artemis, . a (cp. a, b). bendis, a title of artemis, . a. bias of priene, . e. birds, breeding of, at athens, . . blest, islands of the, . c, b. body, the, not self-sufficing, . e; excessive care of, inimical to virtue, . (cp. . d); has less truth and essence than the soul, . d;--harmony of body and soul, . d. body, the, and the members, comparison of the state to, . d, b. boxing, . . brass (and iron) mingled by the god in the husbandmen and craftsmen, . a (cp. . a). breeding of animals, . . building, art of, . a; . c. burial of the guardians, . a; . e, a; . b [_cp._ laws . ]. { } c. calculation, art of, corrects the illusions of sight, . (cp. . ); the talent for, accompanied by general quickness, . b. cp. arithmetic. captain, parable of the deaf, . . carpentry, . c. causes, final, argument from, applied to justice, . : . e, b;--of crimes, . d; . a. cave, the image of the, . foll., (cp. e). censorship of fiction, . ; . - , a, c; . foll. [_cp._ laws . , ]; of the arts, . . ceos, prodicus of, . c. cephalus, father of polemarchus, . b; offers sacrifice, _ib._ b, d; his views on old age, _ib._ e; his views on wealth, _ib._ a foll. cephalus [of clazomenae], . b. cerberus, two natures in one, . c. chance in war, . e; blamed by men for their misfortunes, . c. change in music, not to be allowed, . [_cp._ laws . ]. character, differences of, in men, . d [_cp._ pol. ]; in women, . ;--affected by the imitation of unworthy objects, . ;--national character, . [_cp._ laws . ]:--great characters may be ruined by bad education, . e, b; . :--faults of character, . [_cp._ theaet. b]. charmantides, the paeanian, present at the dialogue, . b. charondas, lawgiver of italy and sicily, . e. cheese, . c; . e. cheiron, teacher of achilles, . c. children have spirit, but not reason, . a; why under authority, . e;--in the state, . ; . e, foll.; . ; must not hear improper stories, . ; . c; must be reared amid fair sights and sounds, . ; must receive education even in their plays, . a; . a [_cp._ laws . b]; must learn to ride, . [_cp._ laws . c]; must go with their fathers and mothers into war, . ; . a:--transfer of children from one class to another, . ; . d:--exposure of children allowed, . c, c:--illegitimate children, _ib._ a. chimaera, two natures in one, . c. chines, presented to the brave warrior, . d. chryses, the priest of apollo (iliad i. foll.), . e foll. cithara, _see_ harp. citizens, the, of the best state, compared to a garrison of mercenaries (adeimantus), . (cp. . ); will form one family, . foll. _see_ guardians. city, situation of the, . :--the 'city of pigs,' . :--the heavenly city, . :--cities, most, divided between rich and poor, . e; . e [_cp._ laws . e]:--the game of cities, . e. cp. constitution, state. classes, in the state, should be kept distinct, . ; . e, a; . , a, , e, ; . (cp. . a, _and_ laws . e). cleitophon, the son of aristonymus, present at the dialogue, . b; interposes on behalf of thrasymachus, _ib._ a. cleverness, no match for honesty, . c (cp. . c); not often united with a steady character, . { } [_cp._ theaet. b]; needs an ideal direction, . [_cp._ laws . a]. clotho, second of the fates, . c, e; sings of the present, _ib._ c; the souls brought to her, _ib._ e. colours, comparison of, . a; contrast of, _ib._ c;--indelible colours, . :--'colours' of poetry, . a. comedy, cannot be allowed in the state, . [_cp._ laws . d]; accustoms the mind to vulgarity, . ;--same actors cannot act both tragedy and comedy, . . common life in the state, . , foll.;--common meals of the guardians, . ; common meals for women, . d [_cp._ laws . ; . e; . d];--common property among the guardians, . e; . a, d; . ; . . community of women and children, . ; . e, foll., , ; . a [_cp._ laws . c];--of property, . e; . a, d; . ; . ;--of feeling, . . community. [_the communism of the republic seems to have been suggested by plato's desire for the unity of the state_ (cp. . foll.). _if those 'two small pestilent words, "meum" and "tuum," which have engendered so much strife among men and created so much mischief in the world,' could be banished from the lips and thoughts of mankind, the ideal state would soon be realized. the citizens would have parents, wives, children, and property in common; they would rejoice in each other's prosperity, and sorrow at each other's misfortune; they would call their rulers not 'lords' and 'masters,' but 'friends' and 'saviours.' plato is aware that such a conception could hardly be carried out in this world; and he evades or adjourns, rather than solves, the difficulty by the famous assertion that only when the philosopher rules in the city will the ills of human life find an end_ [_cp._ introduction, p. clxxiii]. _in the critias, where the ideal state, as plato himself hints to us_ ( d), _is to some extent reproduced in an imaginary description of ancient attica, property is common, but there is no mention of a community of wives and children. finally in the laws_ ( . ), _plato while still maintaining the blessings of communism, recognizes the impossibility of its realization, and sets about the construction of a 'second-best state' in which the rights of property are conceded; although, according to aristotle_ (pol. ii. , § ), _he gradually reverts to the ideal polity in all except a few unimportant particulars._] conception, the, of truth by the philosopher, . a. confidence and courage, . b. confiscation of the property of the rich in democracies, . . constitution, the aristocratic, is the ideal state sketched in bk. iv (cp. . e, d);--defective forms of constitution, . b; . [_cp._ pol. e foll.]; aristocracy (in the ordinary sense), . d; timocracy or 'spartan polity,' . foll.; oligarchy, _ib._ foll., e; democracy, _ib._ foll., d; tyranny, _ib._ c, . cp. government, state. contentiousness, a characteristic of timocracy, . . contracts, in some states not protected by law, . a. contradiction, nature of, . ; . e; power of, . a. { } convention, justice a matter of, . a. conversation, should not be personal, . b. conversion of the soul, . , , [_cp._ laws . e]. cookery, art of, employed in the definition of justice, . c. corinthian courtesans, . d. corpses, not to be spoiled, . . correlative and relative, qualifications of, . foll. [_cp._ gorg. ]; how corrected, . . _corruptio optimi pessima_, . . corruption, the, of youth, not to be attributed to the sophists, but to public opinion, . a. courage, required in the guardians, . ; . , e, e; . ; . e; inconsistent with the fear of death, . ; . a; = the preservation of a right opinion about objects of fear, . , b (cp. . , _and_ laches , ); distinguished from fearlessness, . b; one of the philosopher's virtues, . a, e, a:--the courageous temper averse to intellectual toil, _ib._ d [_cp._ pol. , ]. courtesans, . d. covetousness, not found in the philosopher, . e; characteristic of timocracy and oligarchy, . , ; = the appetitive element of the soul, . a. cowardice in war, to be punished, . a; not found in the philosopher, . b. creophylus, 'the child of flesh,' companion of homer, . b. crete, government of, generally applauded, . c; a timocracy, _ib._ b;--cretans, naked exercises among, . c; call their country 'mother-land,' . e;--cretic rhythm, . b. crimes, great and small, differently estimated by mankind, . (cp. d); causes of, . e, b; . d; . a. criminals, are usually men of great character spoiled by bad education, . e, b; numerous in oligarchies, . d. croesus, . c; 'as the oracle said to croesus,' . c. cronos, ill treated by zeus, . e; his behaviour to uranus, _ibid._ cunning man, the, no match for the virtuous, . d. cycles, recurrence of, in nature, . a [_cp._ tim. c; crit. d; pol. foll.; laws . ]. d. dactylic metre, . c. daedalus, beauty of his works, . e. damon, an authority on rhythm, . b (cp. . c). dancing (in education), . b. day-dreams, . a, c. dead (in battle) not to be stripped, . ; judgment of the dead, . . death, the approach of, brings no terror to the aged, . e; the guardians must have no fear of, . , (cp. . c); preferable to slavery, . a. debts, abolition of, proclaimed by demagogues, . e, e. delphi, religion left to the god at, . a (cp. . e, a; . b). demagogues, . , . democracy, . d; spoken of under the parable of the captain and the mutinous crew, . ; democracy and philosophy, _ib._ , ; the third form of imperfect state, . [_cp._ pol. , ]; detailed account of, _ib._ foll.; characterised by freedom, _ib._ b, - ; a 'bazaar of constitutions,' _ib._ d; the { } humours of democracy, _ib._ e, ; elements contained in, _ib._ .--democracy in animals, _ib._ :--the democratical man, _ib._ , foll., , ; . ; his place in regard to pleasure, . . desire, has a relaxing effect on the soul, . a; the conflict of desire and reason, . [_cp._ phaedr. foll.; tim. a];--the desires divided into simple and qualified, . foll.; into necessary and unnecessary, . . despots (masters), . a. _see_ tyrant. destiny, the, of man in his own power, . e. dialectic, the most difficult branch of philosophy, . ; objects of, _ib._ ; . d; proceeds by a double method, . ; compared to sight, . a; capable of attaining to the idea of good, _ibid._; gives firmness to hypotheses, _ib._ ; the coping stone of the sciences, _ib._ [_cp._ phil. ]; must be studied by the rulers, _ib._ ; dangers of the study, _ibid._; years to be spent in, _ib._ ; distinguished from eristic, _ib._ d (cp. . a; . a):--the dialectician has a conception of essence, . [_cp._ phaedo d]. dialectic. [_dialectic, the 'coping stone of knowledge,' is everywhere distinguished by plato from eristic, i.e., argument for argument's sake_ [_cp._ euthyd. foll., ; meno d; phaedo ; phil. ; theaet. e]. _it is that 'gift of heaven'_ (phil. ) _which teaches men to employ the hypotheses of science, not as final results, but as points from which the mind may rise into the higher heaven of ideas and behold truth and being. this vague and magnificent conception was probably hardly clearer to plato himself when he wrote the republic than it is to us_ [_cp._ introduction, p. xcii]; _but in the sophist and statesman it appears in a more definite form as a combination of analysis and synthesis by which we arrive at a true notion of things._ [_cp. the_ [greek: u(phêgême/nê metho/dos] _of aristotle_ (pol. i. , § ; , § ), _which is an analogous mode of proceeding from the parts to the whole.] in the laws dialectic no longer occupies a prominent place; it is the 'old man's harmless amusement'_ ( . c), _or, regarded more seriously, the method of discussion by question and answer, which is abused by the natural philosophers to disprove the existence of the gods_ ( . ).] dice ([greek: ku/boi]), . c; skill required in dice-playing, . c. diet, . ; . c [_cp._ tim. ]. differences, accidental and essential, . . diomede, his command to the greeks (iliad iv. ), . e; 'necessity of,' (proverb), . d. dionysiac festival (at athens), . d. discord, causes of, . ; . a, e; the ruin of states, . ; distinguished from war, _ib._ [_cp._ laws . , ]. discourse, love of, . a; . b; increases in old age, . d; pleasure of, in the other world, . d [_cp._ apol. ]. disease, origin of, . ; the right treatment of, _ib._ foll.; the physician must have experience of, in his own person, _ib._ ; disease and vice compared, . ; . foll. [_cp._ soph. ; pol. ; laws . { } ]; inherent in everything, . . dishonesty, thought by men to be more profitable than honesty, . a. dithyrambic poetry, nature of, . b. diversities of natural gifts, . ; . ; . a. division of labour, . , a; . e, b, e; . e, a, a, e, , b; a part of justice, . , a, e (cp. _supra_ . , , , _and_ laws . c);--of lands, proclaimed by the would-be tyrant, . e, e. doctors, flourish when luxury increases in the state, . c; . a; two kinds of, . c [_cp._ laws . ; . d]. cp. physician. dog, socrates' oath by the, . e; . e; . ;--dogs are philosophers, . ; the guardians the watch-dogs of the state, _ibid._; . d; . d; breeding of dogs, . . dolphin, arion's, . e. dorian harmony, allowed, with the phrygian, in the state, . a. draughts, . a; skill required in, . c;--comparison of an argument to a game of draughts, . c. dreams, an indication of the bestial element in human nature, . , , e. drones, the, . , c, e, c, b, e; . a [_cp._ laws . a]. drunkenness, in heaven, . d; forbidden in the guardians, . e, e;--the drunken man apt to be tyrannical, . c. cp. intoxication. dyeing, . d. e. early society, . . eating, pleasure accompanying, . . education, commonly divided into gymnastic for the body and music for the soul, . e, (_see_ gymnastic, music, _and_ _cp._ laws . e); both music and gymnastic really designed for the soul, . :--use of fiction in, . foll.; . ; the poets bad educators, . ; . , , b; . , e, b [_cp._ laws . c, a]; must be simple, . , e; melody in, _ib._ foll.; mimetic art in, _ib._ ; importance of good surroundings, _ib._ ; influence of, on manners, . , ; innovation in, dangerous, _ibid._; early, should be given through amusement, _ib._ a; . e [_cp._ laws . b]; ought to be the same for men and women, . foll., ; dangerous when ill-directed, . ; not a process of acquisition, but the use of powers already existing in us, . ; not to be compulsory, _ib._ a;--education of the guardians, . foll.; . , ; . (cp. guardians, ruler);--the higher or philosophic education, . , e, ; . - ; age at which it should commence, . ; . ; 'the longer way,' . (cp. . ); 'the prelude or preamble,' . e. education. [_education in the republic is divided into two parts,_ (i) _the common education of the citizens;_ (ii) _the special education of the rulers._ (i) _the first, beginning with childhood in the plays of the children_ [_cp._ laws . b], _is the old hellenic education,_ [_the_ [greek: katabeblême/na paideu/mata] _of aristotle_, pol. viii. , § ], { }--_'music for the mind and gymnastic for the body'_ [_cp._ laws . e]. _but plato soon discovers that both are really intended for the benefit of the soul_ [_cp._ laws . d]; _and under 'music' he includes literature_ ([greek: lo/goi]), _i.e. humane culture as distinguished from scientific knowledge. music precedes gymnastic; both are not to be learned together; only the simpler kinds of either are tolerated_ [_cp._ laws book vii, _passim_]. _boys and girls share equally in both_ [_cp._ laws . d]. _the greatest attention must be paid to good surroundings; nothing mean or vile must meet the eye or strike the ear of the young scholar. the fairy tales of childhood and the fictions of the poets are alike placed under censorship_ [_cp._ laws book x, _and see s. v._ poetry]. _gentleness is to be united with manliness; beauty of form and activity of mind are to mingle in perfect and harmonious accord._--(ii) _the special education commences at twenty by the selection of the most promising students. these spend ten years in the acquisition of the higher branches of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, harmony_ [_cp._ laws . e], _which are not to be pursued in a scientific spirit or for utility only, but rather with a view to their combination by means of dialectic into an ideal of all knowledge_ (_see s. v._ dialectic). _at thirty a further selection is made: those selected spend five years in the study of philosophy, are then sent into active life for fifteen years, and finally after fifty return to philosophy, which for the remainder of their days is to form their chief occupation_ (_see s. v._ rulers).] egyptians, characterised by love of money, . e. elder, the, to bear rule in the state, . b [_cp._ laws . a; . e]; to be over the younger, . a [_cp._ laws . d; . c; . a]. embroidery, art of, . a. enchantments, used by mendicant prophets, . b;--enchantments, i.e. tests to which the guardians are to be subjected, . (cp. . a; . e). end, the, and use of the soul, . :--ends and excellencies ([greek: a)retai\]) of things, _ibid._; things distinguished by their ends, . . endurance, must be inculcated on the young, . c (cp. . e). enemies, treatment of, . . enquiry, roused by some objects of sense, . . epeus, soul of, turns into a woman, . c. epic poetry, a combination of imitation and narration, . b, e;--epic poets, imitators in the highest degree, . c. er, myth of, . b foll. eriphyle, . a. eristic, distinguished from dialectic, . a; . a; . d. error, not possible in the skilled person (thrasymachus), . d. essence and the good, . ; essence of the invariable, . ;--essence of things, . b; apprehended by the dialectician, . b. eternity, contrasted with human life, . d. eumolpus, son of musaeus, . d. eunuch, the riddle of the, . . euripides, a great tragedian, . a; his maxims about tyrants, _ibid._:--quoted, troades, l. , _ibid._ { } eurypylus, treatment of the wounded, . e, a. euthydemus, brother of polemarchus, . b. evil, god not the author of, . , , a; . e [_cp._ laws . b]; the destructive element in the soul, . foll. (cp. . ):--justice must exist even among the evil, . foll.; their supposed prosperity, . [_cp._ gorg. foll.; laws . ; . , ]; more numerous than the good, . d. cp. injustice. excellence relative to use, . ; excellences ([greek: a)retai\]) and ends of things, . . exchange, the art of, necessary in the formation of the state, . c. exercises, naked, in greece, . . existence, a participation in essence, . [_cp._ phaedo ]. experience, the criterion of true and false pleasures, . . expiation of guilt, . . eye of the soul, . d, e, d, a;--the soul like the eye, . ; . :--eyes, the, in relation to sight, . (cp. sight). f. fact and ideal, . , . faculties, how different, . ;--faculties of the soul, . e; . e. faith [or persuasion], one of the faculties of the soul, . d; . e. falsehood, alien to the nature of god, . [_cp._ laws . a]; a medicine, only to be used by the state, _ibid._; . a, c; . d [_cp._ laws . ]; hateful to the philosopher, . , . family life in the state, . ;--families in the state, _ib._ ;--family and state, _ib._ ;--cares of family life, _ib._ c. fates, the, . , e. fear, a solvent of the soul, . a; fear and shame, . a. fearlessness, distinguished from courage, . b [_cp._ laches b; protag. c, foll.]. feeling, community of, in the state, . . festival of the bendidea (at the piraeus), . a, a; of dionysus (at athens), . d. fiction in education, . foll.; . ; censorship of, necessary, . foll.; . - , a, c; . foll.; not to represent sorrow, . foll. (cp. . ); representing intemperance to be discarded, . ;--stories about the gods, not to be received, . foll.; . foll., c [_cp._ euthyph. , ; crit. b; laws . b; . c; . ];--stories of the world below, objectionable, . foll. (cp. hades, world below). final causes, argument from, applied to justice, . . fire, obtained by friction, . e. flattery, of the multitude by their leaders, in ill-ordered states, . (cp. . b). flute, the, to be rejected, . ;--flute players and flute makers, _ib._ d; . . folly, an inanition ([greek: ke/nôsis]) of the soul, . a. food, the condition of life and existence, . c. forgetfulness, a mark of an unphilosophical nature, . d, e:--the plain of forgetfulness (lethe), . a. fox, the emblem of subtlety, . c. fractions, . e. freedom, the characteristic of democracy, . b, - . friend, the, must be as well as seem { } good, . , ;--the friends of the tyrant, . e; . . friendship, implies justice, . foll.; in the state, . , . funeral of the guardians, . e, e; . b;--corpses placed on the pyre on the twelfth day, . . future life, . ; . foll.; punishment of the wicked in, . ; . [_cp._ phaedo ; gorg. e, ; laws . e, b; . c]. _see_ hades, world below. g. games, as a means of education, . a (cp. . a);--dice ([greek: ku/boi]), . c;--draughts ([greek: pettei/a]), . a; . c; . c;--city ([greek: po/lis]), . e:--[the olympic, &c.] glory gained by success in, . d, a; . a (cp. b). general, the, ought to know arithmetic and geometry, . d, b, d, c. gentleness, characteristic of the philosopher, . , ; . ; . c; usually inconsistent with spirit, . . geometry, must be learnt by the rulers, . foll.; erroneously thought to serve for practical purposes only, _ib._ ;--geometry of solids, _ib._ ;--geometrical necessity, . d;--geometrical notions apprehended by a faculty of the soul, . c. giants, battles of the, . b. gifts, given to victors, . ; . , ;--gifts of nature, . a; . ; . a; may be perverted, . e, a; . [_cp._ laws . a; . c]. glaucon, son of ariston, . a; . a; takes up the discourse, . a; . c; . b; . d; . a; . d; . b; anxious to contribute money for socrates, . e; the boldest of men, . a; his genius, _ib._ a; distinguished at the battle of megara, _ibid._; a musician, . d; . a; desirous that socrates should discuss the subject of women and children, . a; breeds dogs and birds, _ib._ a; a lover, _ib._ d (cp. . e; . e); not a dialectician, . ; his contentiousness, . e; not acquainted with the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, . . glaucus, the sea-god, . c. gluttony, . a. god, not the author of evil, . , , a; . e [_cp._ laws . b]; never changes, . ; will not lie, _ib._ ; the maker of all things, . :--gods, the, thought to favour the unjust, . b, ; supposed to accept the gifts of the wicked, _ib._ [_cp._ laws . e; . foll.; . ]; believed to take no heed of human affairs, . [_cp._ laws . foll.; . ]; human ignorance of, . [_cp._ crat e; crit. ; parm. e]; disbelief in, . [_cp._ laws . foll., ; . ]; stories of, not to be repeated, . foll.; . foll., c [_cp._ euthyph. , ; crit. b; laws . b; . c; . ]; not to be represented grieving or laughing, . ;--'gods who wander about at night in the disguise of strangers,' . d;--the war of the gods and the giants, _ib._ b. god. [_the theology of plato is summed up by himself in the second book of the republic under two heads, 'god is perfect and unchangeable,' and 'god is true and_ { } _the author of truth.' these canons are also the test by which he tries poetry and the poets_ (_see s. v._ poetry):--_homer and the tragedians represent the gods as changing their forms or as deceiving men by lying dreams, and therefore they must be expelled from the state. but plato has not yet acquired the austere temper of his later years. he does not threaten the impenitent unbeliever with bonds and death_ (laws . , ), _but is content to show by argument the superiority of justice over injustice. in other respects the theology of the republic is repeated and amplified in the laws; the theses that god is not the author of evil and will not accept the gifts of the wicked or favour the unjust, are maintained with equal earnestness in both. the republic is less pessimistic in tone than the laws; but the thought of the insignificance of man and the briefness of human life is already familiar to plato's mind_ [_cp._ . a; . ; _and see s. v._ man]. _the conception of god as the demiurgus or creator of the universe, which is prominent in the timaeus, sophist, and statesman, hardly appears either in the republic or the laws_ (_cp._ rep. . foll.; laws . foll.).] gold, mingled by the god in the auxiliaries, . a (cp. e; . a);--[and silver] not allowed to the guardians, . e; . , d; . d (cp. . ). good, the saving element, . :--the good = the beautiful, . [_cp._ lys. ; symp. b, e foll.]; the good and pleasure, . , a [_cp._ gorg. ; phil. , a]; the good superior to essence, _ib._ ; the brightest and best of being, . d;--absolute good, . b; . a;--the idea of good, . , ; . , ; is the highest knowledge, . ; . e; nature of, . , ;--the child of the good, _ib._ e, :--good things least liable to change, . ;--goods classified, _ib._ , d [_cp._ protag. ; gorg. e; phil. ; laws . ; . ];--the goods of life often a temptation, . e, a. good man, the, will disdain to imitate ignoble actions, . :--good men, why they take office, . ; = the wise, _ib._ [_cp._ alcib. , ]; unfortunate (adeimantus), . ; self-sufficient, . [_cp._ lys. a]; will not give way to sorrow, _ibid._; . e [_cp._ laws . ; . b, d]; appear simple from their inexperience of evil, . a; hate the tyrant, . a; the friends of god and like him, . [_cp._ phil. e; laws . ]. goods, community of, . ; . ; . . _see_ community. government, forms of, are they administered in the interest of the rulers? . d, , ; are all based on a principle of justice, _ib._ e [_cp._ laws . ]; present forms in an evil condition, . e, ; none of the existing forms adapted to philosophy, _ib._ ;--the four imperfect forms, . b; . [_cp._ pol. foll., foll.]; succession of changes in states, . foll.;--peculiar barbarian forms, _ib._ d. cp. constitution, state. government, forms of. [_the classification of forms of government which plato adopts in the republic is not exactly the same with that given in the statesman or the laws. both in the republic_ { } _and the statesman the series commences with the perfect state, which may be either monarchy or aristocracy, accordingly as the 'one best man' bears rule or many who are all 'perfect in virtue'_ [_cp._ arist. pol. iv. , § ]. _but in the republic the further succession is somewhat fancifully connected with the divisions of the soul. the rule of reason_ [_i.e. the perfect state_] _passes into timocracy, in which the 'spirited element' is predominant_ ( . ), _timocracy into three governments in turn, which represent the 'appetitive principle,'--first, oligarchy, in which the desire of wealth is supreme_ ( . d; . ); _secondly, democracy, characterised by an unbounded lust for freedom_ ( . ); _thirdly, tyranny, in which all evil desires grow unchecked, and the tyrant becomes 'the waking reality of what he once was in his dreams only'_ ( . e). _each of these inferior forms is illustrated in the individual who corresponds to the state and 'is set over against it'_ ( . c). _in the statesman, after the government of the one or many good has been separated, the remaining forms are classified accordingly as the government has or has not regard to law, and democracy is said to be_ ( a) _'the worst of lawful and the best of lawless governments'_ (_an expression criticised by aristotle,_ pol. iv. , § ). _in the laws again the subject is differently treated: monarchy and democracy are described as 'the two mother forms,' which must be combined in order to produce a good state_ ( . ), _and the spartan and cretan constitutions are therefore praised as polities in which every form of government is represented_ ( . ). _but the majority of existing states are mere class governments and have no regard to virtue_ ( . e). _these various ideas are nearly all reproduced or criticised in the politics of aristotle, who, however, does not employ the term 'timocracy,' and adds one great original conception,--the_ [greek: mesê\ politei/a], _or government of the middle class._] governments, sometimes bought and sold, . d. grace ([greek: eu)schêmosu/nê]), the effect of good rhythm accompanying good style, . d; all life and every art full of grace, _ib._ a. greatness and smallness, . b; . b; . , ; . c; . d, c. grief, not to be indulged, . ; . - . cp. sorrow. guard, the tyrant's request for a, . b, e. guardians of the state, must be philosophers, . ; . , , , b; . , , b, ; . ; must be both spirited and gentle, . ; . ; . [_cp._ laws . b]; must be tested by pleasures and pains, . (cp. . a; . e); have gold and silver mingled in their veins, . a (cp. e; . a); their happiness, . foll.; . e foll.; . c; . e; will be the class in the state which possesses wisdom, . [_cp._ laws . a]; will form one family with the citizens, . - ; must preserve moderation, _ib._ b; divided into auxiliaries and guardians proper, . (cp. . e; _and see_ auxiliaries, rulers):--the guardians [i.e. the auxiliaries] must be courageous, . ; . , e, e; . ; . e; must have no fear of death, . (cp. { } . c); not to weep, . (cp. . e); nor to be given to laughter, . [_cp._ laws . ; . ]; must be temperate, _ib._ d; must not be avaricious, _ib._ e; must only imitate noble characters and actions, _ib._ foll., e; must only learn the dorian and phrygian harmonies, and play on the lyre and harp, _ib._ , ; must be sober, _ib._ e, e; must be reared amid fair surroundings, _ib._ ; athletes of war, _ib._ , b; . ; . e; . [_cp._ laws . ]; must live according to rule, . ; will not go to law or have resort to medicine, _ib._ a; must have common meals and live a soldier's life, _ib._ ; will not require gold or silver or property of any kind, _ib._ ; . , a, d; . c; compared to a garrison of mercenaries (adeimantus), . (cp. . ); must go to war on horseback in their childhood, . ; . a; regulations for their conduct in war, . - :--female guardians, _ib._, , , ; . c (cp. women). gyges, . c; . b. gymnastic, supposed to be intended only for the body, . e; . ; . [_cp._ laws . e]; really designed for the improvement of the soul, . ; like music, should be continued throughout life, _ib._ c; effect of excessive, _ib._ , ; . b; should be of a simple character, . , a; the ancient forms of, to be retained, . ; must co-operate with music in creating a harmony of the soul, _ib._ e; suitable to women, . - [_cp._ laws . , , ]; ought to be combined with intellectual pursuits, . d [_cp._ tim. ]; time to be spent in, _ib._ . h. habit and virtue, . e; . d. hades, tales about the terrors of, . d; . a; such tales not to be heeded, . b [_cp._ crat. ];--the place of punishment, . ; . foll.; musaeus' account of the good and bad in, . ;--the journey to, . [_cp._ phaedo a]:--(pluto) helmet of, . b. cp. world below. half, the, better than the whole, . b. handicraft arts, a reproach, . [_cp._ gorg. ]. happiness of the unjust, . ; . ; . b (cp. . a, _and_ gorg. foll.; laws . ; . e, a);--of the guardians, . foll.; . e foll.; . c; . e;--of olympic victors, . d, a; . a;--of the tyrant, . foll., ;--the greatest happiness awarded to the most just, _ib._ foll. harmonies, the more complex to be rejected, . foll.;--the lydian harmony, _ib._ ; the ionian, _ib._ e; the dorian and phrygian alone to be accepted, _ib._ . harmony, akin to virtue, . a (cp. . a);--science of, must be acquired by the rulers, . (cp. music);--harmony of soul and body, . d;--harmony of the soul, effected by temperance, . , e, d, (cp. . d, _and_ laws . b);--harmony in the acquisition of wealth, . e. harp, the, ([greek: kitha/ra]), allowed in the best state, . . { } hatred, between the despot and his subjects, . e; . a. health and justice compared, . ; pleasure of health, . c; secondary to virtue, _ib._ d. hearing, classed among faculties, . e; composed of two elements, speech and hearing, and not requiring, like sight, a third intermediate nature, . c. heaven, the starry, the fairest of visible things, . d; the motions of, not eternal, _ib._ a. heaviness, . ; . a. hector, dragged by achilles round the tomb of patroclus, . b. helen, never went to troy, . c. hellas, not to be devastated in civil war, . a foll., a: --hellenes characterised by the love of knowledge, . e; did not originally strip in the gymnasia, . d; not to be enslaved by hellenes, _ib._ b, c; united by ties of blood, _ib._ c; not to devastate hellas, _ib._ a foll.; hellenes and barbarians are strangers, _ib._ d, c [_cp._ pol. d]. hellespont, . c. hephaestus, binds herè, . d; thrown from heaven by zeus, _ibid._; improperly delineated by homer, . a; chains ares and aphroditè, _ib._ c. heracleitus, the 'sun of,' . b. herè, bound by hephaestus, . d; herè and zeus, _ibid._; . b; begged alms for the daughters of inachus, . d. hermes, the star sacred to (mercury), . a. hermus, . c. herodicus of selymbria, the inventor of valetudinarianism, . a foll. heroes, not to lament, . , ; . - ; to be rewarded, . ; after death, _ibid._ heroic rhythm, . c. hesiod, his rewards of justice, . b; . a; his stories improper for youth, . d; his classification of the races, . a; a wandering rhapsode, . d:-- quoted:-- theogony, l. , , . e. works and days, l. , . b. l. , . e. l. , . e. l. , . b. l. , _ib._ d. fragm. , . e. hirelings, required in the state, . e. holiness of marriage, . e, [_cp._ laws . ]. _see_ marriage. homer, supports the theory that justice is a thief, . b; his rewards of justice, . b; . a; his stories not approved for youth, . d foll. (cp. . ); his mode of narration, . a foll.; feeds his heroes on campaigners' fare, _ib._ c; socrates' feeling of reverence for him, . c, (cp. . a); the captain and teacher of the tragic poets, . b, d, e; not a legislator, _ib._ e; or a general, _ib._ a [_cp._ ion foll.]; or inventor, _ibid._; or teacher, _ibid._; no educator, _ib._ , e, b; not much esteemed in his lifetime, _ib._ b foll.; went about as a rhapsode, _ibid._ passages quoted or referred to:-- iliad i. l. foll., . e foll. l. , . b. l. , . e. l. foll., . d. l. foll., . a. iliad ii. l. , . c. iliad iii. l. , . e. { } iliad iv. l. foll., . e. l. , . a. l. , _ib._ e. l. , _ibid._ iliad v. l. , . b. iliad vii. l. , . d. iliad viii. l. , _ibid._ iliad ix. l. foll., . d. l. foll., . e. iliad xi. l. , _ib._ e. l. , _ibid._ l. , _ib._ a. iliad xii. l. , . e. iliad xiv. l. foll., . c. iliad xvi. l. , _ib._ c. l. , . d. l. foll., . e. iliad xviii. l. foll., _ib._ a. l. , _ib._ b. iliad xix. l. foll., _ib._ e. iliad xx. l. foll., . e. l. foll., . c. iliad xxi. l. foll., _ib._ b. iliad xxii. ll. , , _ib._ a. l. foll., _ib._ c. l. foll., _ib._ e. l. , _ib._ b. iliad xxiii. l. foll., _ib._ a. l. foll., _ib._ d. l. _ib._ b. l. _ibid._ iliad xxiv. l. foll., _ib._ a. l. , . d. odyssey i. l. foll., . d. odyssey viii. l. foll., . d. odyssey ix. l. . foll., _ib._ b. l. foll., . c. odyssey x. l. , . e. odyssey xi. l. foll., _ib._ c; . d. odyssey xii. l. , . b. odyssey xvii. l. foll., _ib._ d. l. foll., . d. odyssey xix. l. foll., _ib._ b. l. , . b. odyssey xx. l. , . d; . b. homer, allusions to, . e; . d; . e; . d. homeridae, . e. honest man, the, a match for the rogue, . c (cp. . c). honesty, fostered by the possession of wealth, . a; thought by mankind to be unprofitable, . a; . b. honour, pleasures enjoyed by the lover of, . c, e:--the 'government of honour,' _see_ timocracy. hope, the comfort of the righteous in old age (pindar), . a. household cares, . c. human interests, unimportance of, . b (cp. . a, _and_ theaet. ; laws . e; . );--life, full of evils, . c; shortness of, . d;--nature, incapable of doing many things well, . b; --sacrifices, . d. { } hunger, . e, ; an inanition ([greek: ke/nôsis]) of the body, . a. hymns, to the gods, may be allowed in the state, : a [_cp._ laws . a; . e];--marriage hymns, . e. hypothesis, in mathematics and in the intellectual world, . ; in the sciences, . . i. iambic measure, . c. ida, altar of the gods on, . e. idea of good, the source of truth, . (cp. ); a cause like the sun, _ib._ ; . , ; must be apprehended by the lover of knowledge, . ;--ideas and phenomena, . ; . ;--ideas and hypotheses, . ;--absolute ideas, . [_cp._ phaedo , ; parm. ]; origin of abstract ideas, . ; nature of, . ; singleness of, _ib._ [_cp._ tim. , ]. idea. [_the idea of good is an abstraction, which, under that name at least, does not elsewhere occur in plato's writings. but it is probably not essentially different from another abstraction, 'the true being of things,' which is mentioned in many of his dialogues_ [_cp. passages cited s. v. being_]. _he has nowhere given an explanation of his meaning, not because he was 'regardless whether we understood him or not,' but rather, perhaps, because he was himself unable to state in precise terms the ideal which floated before his mind. he belonged to an age in which men felt too strongly the first pleasure of metaphysical speculation to be able to estimate the true value of the ideas which they conceived_ (_cp. his own picture of the effect of dialectic on the youthful mind,_ . ). _to him, as to the schoolmen of the middle ages, an abstraction seemed truer than a fact: he was impatient to shake off the shackles of sense and rise into the purer atmosphere of ideas. yet in the allegory of the cave_ (_book vii_), _whose inhabitants must go up to the light of perfect knowledge but descend again into the obscurity of opinion, he has shown that he was not unaware of the necessity of finding a firm starting-point for these flights of metaphysical imagination_ (_cp._ . ). _a passage in the philebus_ ( a) _gives perhaps the best insight into his meaning: 'if we are not able to hunt the good with one idea only, with three we may take our prey,--beauty, symmetry, truth.' the three were inseparable to the greek mind, and no conception of perfection could be formed in which they did not unite._ (cp. introduction, pp. lxix, xcvii).] ideal state, is it possible? . , ; . ; . (cp. . , _and_ laws . e; . ); how to be commenced, . ; . : --ideals, value of, . . for the ideal state, _see_ city, constitution, education, guardians, rulers, etc. ignorance, nature of, . , ; an inanition ([greek: ke/nôsis]) of the soul, . . iliad, the style of, illustrated, . e foll.; mentioned, _ib._ a. cp. homer, odyssey. ilion, _see_ troy. illegitimate children, . a. illusions of sight, . ; . [_cp._ phaedo a; phil. , d; theaet. e]. images, (i.e. reflections of visible objects), . ; . (_cp._ tim. d). { } imitation in style, . , ; . foll., foll.; affects the character, . ; thrice removed from the truth, . , , , b; concerned with the weaker part of the soul, _ib._ . imitative poetry, . ; arts, inferior, _ib._ . imitators, ignorant, . . immortality, proof of, . foll., (cp. . c, _and see_ soul). impatience, uselessness of, . c. impetuosity, . e. inachus, herè asks alms for the daughters of, . d. inanitions ([greek: ke/nôseis]) of body and soul, . a. incantations used by mendicant prophets, . b; in medicine, . a. income tax, . d. indifference to money, characteristic of those who inherit a fortune, . b. individual, inferior types of the, . ; individual and state, . ; . , ; . ; . ; . b [_cp._ laws . ; . ; . , c; . ]. infants have spirit, but not reason, . [_cp._ laws . e]. informers, . b. injustice, advantage of, . ; defined by thrasymachus as discretion, _ib._ d; injustice and vice, _ibid._; suicidal to states and individuals, _ib._ e [_cp._ laws . a]; in perfection, . ; eulogists of, _ib._ , , ; . b (_cp._ . a; . ); only blamed by those who have not the power to be unjust, . c; in the state, . ; = anarchy in the soul, _ib._ b [_cp._ soph. ]; brings no profit, . , ; . . innovation in education dangerous, . [_cp._ laws . , a]. see gymnastic, music. intellect, objects of, classified, . (cp. . ); relation of the intellect and the good, . . intellectual world, divisions of, . foll.; . ; compared to the visible, . , ; . a. intercourse between the sexes, . foll. [_cp._ laws . foll.]; in a democracy, . b. interest, sometimes irrecoverable by law, . a [_cp._ laws . c]. intermediates, . . intimations, the, given by the senses imperfect, . foll.; . . intoxication, not allowed in the state, . e, e. cp. drinking. invalids, . , ; . , . ionian harmony, must be rejected, . a. iron (and brass) mingled by the god in the husbandmen and craftsmen, . a (cp. . a). ismenias, the theban, 'a rich and mighty man,' . a. italy, 'can tell of charondas as a lawgiver,' . e. j. judge, the good, must himself be virtuous, . [_cp._ pol. ]. judgement, the final, . foll. cp. hades. juggling, . d. just man, the, is at a disadvantage compared with the unjust (thrasymachus), . ; is happy, _ib._ [_cp._ laws . e]; attains harmony in his soul, . e; proclaimed the happiest, . foll.;--just men the friends of the gods, . [_cp._ phil. e; laws . d];--just and unjust are at heart the same (glaucon), . . justice, = to speak the truth and pay one's debts, . foll.; { } = the interest of the stronger, _ib._ ; . [_cp._ gorg. ; laws . a]; = honour among thieves, . ; = the excellence of the soul, _ib._ :--the art which gives good and evil to friends and enemies, _ib._ foll., ; is a thief, _ib._ ; the proper virtue of man, _ib._ ; 'sublime simplicity,' _ib._ ; does not aim at excess, _ib._ ; identical with wisdom and virtue, _ib._ ; a principle of harmony, _ibid._ (cp. . d); in the highest class of goods, . , d [_cp._ laws . c]; the union of wisdom, temperance, and courage, . [_cp._ laws . c]; a division of labour, _ibid._ foll. (cp. _supra_, . , , , _and_ alcib. ):--nature and origin of (glaucon), . , ; conventional, _ib._ a [_cp._ theaet. a, c; laws . , ]; praised for its consequences only (adeimantus), _ib._ e, ; a matter of appearance, _ib._ :--useful alike in war and peace, . ; can do no harm, _ib._ ; more precious than gold, _ib._ ; toilsome, . :--compared to health, . :--the poets on, . , , e:--in perfection, _ib._ :--more profitable than injustice, . ; . foll.; superior to injustice, . ; final triumph of, _ib._ ; . , :--in the state, . ; . ; the same in the individual and the state, . foll., foll.:--absolute justice, . e; . b; . e. justice. [_the search for justice is the groundwork or foundation of the republic, which commences with an enquiry into its nature and ends with a triumphant demonstration of the superior happiness enjoyed by the just man. in the first book several definitions of justice are attempted, all of which prove inadequate. glaucon and adeimantus then intervene:--mankind regard justice as a necessity, not as a good in itself, or at best as only to be practised because of the temporal benefits which flow from it: can socrates prove that it belongs to a higher class of goods? socrates in reply proposes to construct an ideal state in which justice will be more easily recognised than in the individual. justice is thus discovered to be the essential virtue of the state,_ (_a thesis afterwards enlarged upon by aristotle_ [pol. i. , § ; iii. , § ]), _the bond of the social organization, and, like temperance in the laws_ [ . , ; . e], _rather the accompaniment or condition of the virtues than a virtue in itself_ [_cp._ introduction, p. lxiii]. _expressed in an outward or political form it becomes the great principle which has been already enunciated_ (i. ), _'that every man shall do his own work;' on this plato bases the necessity of the division into classes which underlies the whole fabric of the ideal state_ ( . foll.; tim. c). _thus we are led to acknowledge the happiness of the just; for he alone reflects in himself this vital principle of the state_ ( . ). _the final proof is supplied by a comparison of the perfect state with actual forms of government. these, like the individuals who correspond to them, become more and more miserable as they recede further from the ideal, and the climax is reached_ ( . ) _when the tyrant is shown by the aid of arithmetic to have ' times less pleasure than the king'_ [_i.e. the perfectly just ruler_]. _lastly, the happiness of the just is proved to_ { } _extend also into the next world, where men appear before the judgment seat of heaven and receive the due reward of their deeds in this life._] k. king, the great, . d:--pleasure of the king and the tyrant compared, . foll.;--kings and philosophers, . (cp. . e, foll., e foll.; . ; . ; . ). kisses, the reward of the brave warrior, . c. knowledge ([greek: e)pistê/mê, gignô/skein]), = knowledge of ideas, . ; --nature of, . , ; classed among faculties, _ib._ ; . e; . e;--previous, to birth, . c;--how far given by sense, _ib._ [_cp._ phaedo ];--should not be acquired under compulsion, _ib._ e;--the foundation of courage, . [_cp._ laches , ; protag. , ];--knowledge and opinion, . - ; . , a; . ; knowledge and pleasure, . ; knowledge and wisdom, . ;--the highest knowledge, . ; . foll.;--unity of knowledge, . [_cp._ phaedo ];--the best knowledge, . ;--knowledge of shadows, . d; . a:--love of knowledge characteristic of the hellenes, . e; peculiar to the rational element of the soul, . b. l. labour, division of, . , a; . e, b, e; . e, a, a, e, , b [_cp._ laws . , ]. lacedaemon, owes its good order to lycurgus, . e;--constitution of, commonly extolled, . d; a timocracy, _ib._ b:--lacedaemonians first after the cretans to strip in the gymnasia, . d. lachesis, turns the spindle of necessity together with clotho and atropos, . c; her speech, _ib._ d; apportions a genius to each soul, _ib._ d. lamentation over the dead, to be checked, . . lands, partition of, proclaimed by the would-be tyrant, . e, e. language, pliability of, . d [_cp._ soph. b]. laughter not to be allowed in the guardians, . [_cp._ laws . ; . ]; nor represented in the gods, _ib._ . laws, may be given in error, . e; supposed to arise from a convention among mankind, . a; cause of, . ; on special subjects of little use, . , [_cp._ laws . ]; treated with contempt in democracies, . e; bring help to all in the state, . . lawyers, increase when wealth abounds, . a. learning, pleasure of, . c (cp. . , ). legislation, cannot reach the minutiae of life, . , ; requires the help of god, _ib._ e. cp. laws. leontius, story of, . e. lethe, . . letters, image of the large and small, . ; . a. liberality, one of the virtues of the philosopher, . e. liberty, characteristic of democracy, . b, - . licence, begins in music, . e [_cp._ laws . b]; in democracies, . d. licentiousness forbidden, . . { } lie, a, hateful to the philosopher, . c (cp. _supra_ e);--the true lie and the lie in words, . ;--the royal lie ([greek: gennai/on pseu=dos]), . ;--rulers of the state may lie, . ; . a, c; . d;--the gods not to be represented as lying, . ;--lies of the poets, _ib._ foll.; . , b (cp. . foll.). life in the early state, . ;--loses its zest in old age, . a; full of evils, . c; intolerable without virtue, . ; shortness of, compared to eternity, . d;--the life of virtue toilsome, . d; --the just or the unjust, which is the more advantageous? _ib._ foll.;--three kinds of lives among men, . ;--life of women ought to resemble that of men, . foll. [_cp._ laws . e];--the necessities of life, . , a;--the prime of life, . e. light, . e. cp. sight, vision. light and heavy, . ; . . like to like, . c. literature ([greek: lo/goi]), included under 'music' in education, . e. litigation, the love of, ignoble, . . logic; method of residues, . ;--accidents and essence distinguished, . ;--nature of opposition, . ;--categories, [greek: pro/s ti], . ; quality and relation, _ibid._;--fallacies, . . for plato's method of definitions, _see_ knowledge, temperance; and cp. dialectic, metaphysic. lotophagi, . c. lots, use of, . a, e; election by, characteristic of democracy, . a. love of the beautiful, . , [_cp._ alcib. ]; bodily love and true love, _ib._ ; love and the love of knowledge, . foll.; is of the whole, not of the part, _ib._ c, b; . b; a tyrant, . b, e (cp. . b):--familiarities which may be allowed between the lover and the beloved, . b:--lovers' names, . :--lovers of wine, _ib._ a:--lovers of beautiful sights and sounds, _ib._ b, a, . luxury in the state, . , ; a cause of disease, . e; would not give happiness to the citizens, . , ; makes men cowards, . b. lycaean zeus, temple of, . d. lycurgus, the author of the greatness of lacedaemon, . e. lydia, kingdom of, obtained by gyges, . c:--lydian harmonies, to be rejected, . e foll. lying, a privilege of the state, . a, c; . d. lyre, the instrument of apollo, and allowed in the best state, . d. lysanias, father of cephalus, . b. lysias, the brother of polemarchus, . b. m. madman, arms not to be returned to a, . ; fancies of madmen, . c. magic, . d. magistrates, elected by lot in democracy, . a. magnanimity, ([greek: megalo/prepeia]), one of the philosopher's virtues, . a, e, a. maker, the, not so good a judge as the user, . c [_cp._ crat. ]. man, 'the master of himself,' . e [_cp._ laws . e foll.]; 'the form and likeness of god,' . b [_cp._ phaedr. a; theaet. c; laws . d]; his unimportance, . b (cp. . a, { } _and_ laws . e; . ); has the power to choose his own destiny, . e; --the one best man, . [_cp._ pol. ]:--men are not just of their own will, . c; unite in the state in order to supply each other's wants, _ib._ ;--the nature of men and women, . - ;--analogy of men and animals, _ib._ ;--three classes of, . . manners, influenced by education, . , ; cannot be made the subject of legislation, _ibid._; freedom of, in democracies, . a. 'many,' the term, as applied to the beautiful, the good, &c., . . many, the, flatter their leaders into thinking themselves statesmen, . ; wrong in their notions about the honourable and the good, . e; would lose their harsh feeling towards philosophy if they could see the true philosopher, _ib._ ; their pleasures and pains, . ;--'the great beast,' . . cp. multitude. marionette players, . b. marriage, holiness of, . e, ; age for, _ib._ ; prayers and sacrifices at, _ibid._;--marriage festivals, _ib._ , . marsyas, apollo to be preferred to, . e. mathematics, . - ; use of hypotheses in, . ;--mathematical notions perceived by a faculty of the soul, . c:--the mathematician not usually a dialectician, . e. mean, happiness of the, . a [_cp._ laws . a; . e; . d]. meanness, unknown to the philosopher, . a; characteristic of the oligarchs, . . measurement, art of, corrects the illusions of sight, . d. meat, roast, the best diet for soldiers, . d. medicine, cause of, . ; not intended to preserve unhealthy and intemperate subjects, _ib._ foll., a; . a [_cp._ tim. b]; the two kinds of, . [_cp._ laws . ]; use of incantations in, . a;--analogy of, employed in the definition of justice, . c. megara, battle of, . a. melody, in education, . foll.; its influence, . b. memory, the philosopher should have a good, . d, e, a; . b. mendicant prophets, . c. menelaus, treatment of, when wounded, . a. menoetius, father of patroclus, . c. mental blindness, causes of, . . merchants, necessary in the state, . . metaphysics; absolute ideas, . ;--abstract and relative ideas, . ;--analysis of knowledge, . ;--qualifications of relative and correlative, . foll.; . . cp. idea, logic. metempsychosis, . . cp. soul. midas, wealth of, . b. might and right, . foll. [_cp._ gorg. , ; laws . ; . ; . ]. miletus, thales of, . a. military profession, the, . . mimetic art, in education, . foll.; the same person cannot succeed in tragedy and comedy, _ib._ a; imitations lead to habit, ib. d; men acting women's part, _ib._ e; influence on character, _ibid._ foll. cp. imitation. 'mine and thine,' a common cause of dispute, . . ministers of the state must be educated, . . see ruler. { } miser, the, typical of the oligarchical state, . a (cp. d). misfortune, to be borne with patience, . ; . - . models (or types), by which the poets are to be guided in their compositions, . a. moderation, necessity of, . b [_cp._ laws . e; . , e]. momus (god of jealousy), . a. monarchy, distinguished from aristocracy as that form of the perfect state in which one rules, . c (cp. . d, _and_ pol. ); the happiest form of government, . e (cp. c, b). money, needed in the state, . b [_cp._ laws . ]; not necessary in order to carry on war, . ;--love of, among the egyptians and phoenicians, _ib._ e; characteristic of timocracy and oligarchy, . a, , a; referred to the appetitive element of the soul, . e; despicable, _ib._ e, c (cp. . e). money-lending, in oligarchies, . , . money-making, art of, in cephalus' family, . b; evil of, . ; pleasure of, . c, e. money-qualifications in oligarchies, . , . moon, reputed mother of orpheus, . e. motherland, a cretan word, . e [_cp._ menex. ]. mothers in the state, . . motion and rest, . ;--motion of the stars, . , ; . e. multitude, the, the great sophist, . ; their madness, _ib._ c. cp. many. musaeus, his pictures of a future life, . d, e, e. muses, the, musaeus and orpheus the children of, . e. music, to be taught before gymnastic, . e (cp. . c); includes literature ([greek: lo/goi]), . e;--in education, _ib._ foll.; . foll.; . a (_see_ poetry, poets, _and cp._ protag. ; laws . , ); complexity in, to be rejected, . [_cp._ laws . ]; the severe and the vulgar kind, _ibid._ [_cp._ laws . ]; the end of, the love of beauty, _ib._ c; like gymnastic, should be studied throughout life, _ibid._; the simpler kinds of, foster temperance in the soul, _ib._ a, a; effect of excessive, _ib._ , ; ancient forms of, not to be altered, . [_cp._ laws . ; . , ]; must be taught to women, . . music. [_music to the ancients had a far wider significance than to us. it was opposed to gymnastic as 'mental' to 'bodily' training, and included equally reading and writing, mathematics, harmony, poetry, and music strictly speaking: drawing, as aristotle tells us_ (pol. viii. , § ), _was sometimes made a separate division._ i. _music_ (_in this wider sense_), _plato says, should precede gymnastic; and, according to a remarkable passage in the protagoras_ ( c), _the pupils in a greek school were actually instructed in reading and writing, made to learn poetry by heart, and taught to play on the lyre, before they went to the gymnasium. the ages at which children should commence these various studies are not stated in the republic; but in the viith book of the laws, where the subject is treated more in detail, the children begin going to school at ten, and spend three years in learning to read and write, and another three years in music_ (laws . ). _this agrees very fairly with the selection of the_ { } _most promising youth at the age of twenty_ (rep. . ), _as it would allow a corresponding period of three years for gymnastic training._ ii. _music, strictly so called, plays a great part in plato's scheme of education. he hopes by its aid to make the lives of his youthful scholars harmonious and gracious, and to implant in their souls true conceptions of good and evil. music is a gift of the gods to men, and was never intended, 'as the many foolishly and blasphemously suppose,' merely to give us an idle pleasure_ (tim. e; laws . , e; . d). _neither should a freeman aim at attaining perfect execution_ [_cp._ arist. pol. viii. , §§ , ]: _in the laws_ ( . ) _we are told that every one must go through the three years course of music, 'neither more nor less, whether he like or whether he dislike the study.' both instruments and music are to be of a simple character: in the republic only the lyre, the pipe, and the flute are tolerated, and the dorian and phrygian harmonies. no change in the fashions of music is permitted; for where there is licence in music there will be anarchy in the state. in this desire for simplicity and fixity in music plato was probably opposed to the tendencies of his own age. the severe harmony which had once characterized hellenic art was passing out of favour: alike in architecture, sculpture, painting, literature, and music, richer and more ornate styles prevailed. we regard the change as inevitable, and not perhaps wholly to be regretted: to plato it was a cause rather than a sign of the decline of hellas._] musical amateurs, . ;--education, . ; . foll.; . a; --instruments, the more complex kinds of, rejected, . [_cp._ laws . d];--modes, _ib._ - ; changes in, involve changes in the laws, . c. mysteries, . a, a, a; . e. mythology, misrepresentations of the gods in, . foll.; . foll., c (cp. gods); like poetry, has an imitative character, . d foll. n. narration, styles of, . , , . national qualities, . . natural gifts, . a; . ; . e, a; . , . nature, recurrent cycles in, . a (cp. cycles); divisions of, . [_cp._ phil. ]. necessities, the, of life, . , a. necessity, the mother of the fates, . , , a. necessity, the, 'which lovers know,' . e;--the 'necessity of diomede,' . d. nemesis, . a. niceratus, son of nicias, . c. nicias, . c. nightingale, thamyras changed into a, . . niobe, sufferings of, in tragic poetry, . a. [greek: no/mos], strain and law, . e [_cp._ laws . a]. not-being, . . novelties in music and gymnastic to be discouraged, . . number, said to have been invented by palamedes, . d;--the number of the state, . . o. objects and ideas to be distinguished, . ; . . { } odysseus and alcinous, . b; chooses the lot of a private man, _ib._ d. odyssey, . a. cp. iliad. office, not desired by the good ruler, . a. old age, complaints against, . ; sophocles quoted in regard to, _ibid._; wealth a comforter of age, _ibid._;--old men think more of the future life, _ib._ ; not students, . [_cp._ laches ];--the older to bear rule in the state, . [_cp._ laws . a; . e]; to be over the younger, . a [_cp._ laws . d; . c; . a]. oligarchy, a form of government which has many evils, . , , ; origin of, _ib._ ; nature of, _ibid._; always divided against itself, _ib._ d, e--the oligarchical man, . ; a miser, _ib._ ; his place in regard to pleasure, . . olympian zeus, the saviour, . b. olympic victors, happiness and glory of, . d, a (_cp._ . a). one, the, study of, draws the mind to the contemplation of true being, . a. opinion and knowledge, . - ; . d, a; . ; the lovers of opinion, . , ; a blind guide, . ; objects of opinion and intellect classified, . (cp. . );--true opinion and courage, . , (cp. courage). opposites, qualification of, . ; in nature, . , e. cp. contradiction. oppositions in the soul, . d. orpheus, child of the moon and the muses, . e; soul of, chooses a swan's life, . a;--quoted, . e. p. paeanian, charmantides the, . b. pain, cessation of, causes pleasure, . d [_cp._ phaedo a; phil. a]; a motion of the soul, _ib._ e. painters, . , ; are imitators, ib. [_cp._ soph. ]; painters and poets, _ib._ , , :--'the painter of constitutions,' . . painting, in light and shade, . c. palamedes and agamemnon in the play, . d. pamphylia, ardiaeus a tyrant of some city in, . c. pandarus, author of the violation of the oaths, . e; wounded menelaus, . a. panharmonic scale, the, . . panopeus, father of epeus, . b. pantomimic representations, not to be allowed, . . paradox about justice and injustice, the, . . parental anxieties, . c [_cp._ euthyd. e]. parents, the oldest and most indispensable of friends, . c; parents and children in the state, . . part and whole, in regard to the happiness of the state, . d; . ; . e; in love, . c, b; . b. passionate element of the soul, . ; . a; . d; . e, a. _see_ spirit. passions, the, tyranny of, . c; fostered by poetry, . . patient and agent equally qualified, . [_cp._ gorg. ; phil. a]. patroclus, cruel vengeance taken by achilles for, . b; his treatment of the wounded eurypylus, _ib._ a. { } pattern, the heavenly, . e; . a; . [_cp._ laws . d]. paupers. _see_ poor. payment, art of, . . peirithous, son of zeus, the tale of, not to be repeated, . d. peleus, the gentlest of men, . c. perception, in the eye and in the soul, . foll. perdiccas [king of macedonia], . a. perfect state, difficulty of, . ; . e [_cp._ laws . ]; possible, . , ; . ; . [_cp._ laws . ]; manner of its decline, . [_cp._ crit. ]. periander, the tyrant, . a. personalities, avoided by the philosopher, . b [_cp._ theaet. c]. personification; the argument compared to a search or chase, . c; . c, ; to a stormy sea, . b; to an ocean, . d; to a game of draughts, . b; to a journey, . e; to a charm, . a;--'has travelled a long way,' . a;--'veils her face,' _ib._ a; --'following in the footsteps of the argument,' . c;--'whither the argument may blow, thither we go,' . d;--'a swarm of words,' . b;--the three waves, _ib._ c, a, c. persuasion [or faith], one of the faculties of the soul, . d; . e. philosopher, the, has the quality of gentleness, . , ; . ; . c; 'the spectator of all time and all existence,' . a [_cp._ theaet. e]; should have a good memory, _ib._ d, e, a; . ; has his mind fixed upon true being, . , , e, , c, d; . , d; . , c (cp. . e; . b, , _and_ phaedo ; phaedr. ; theaet. e; soph. d, ); his qualifications and excellences, . foll., d, b, b [_cp._ phaedo ]; corruption of the philosopher, _ib._ foll.; is apt to retire from the world, _ib._ [_cp._ theaet. ]; does not delight in personal conversation, _ib._ b [_cp._ theaet. c]; must be an arithmetician, . b; pleasures of the philosopher, . e:--philosophers are to be kings, . (cp. . e, foll., e foll.; . ; . ; . ); are lovers of all knowledge, . ; . a, ; true and false, . foll.; . , , , a, ; . ; to be guardians, . (_see_ guardians); why they are useless, . foll.; few in number, _ib._ e, , b, b [_cp._ phaedo c]; will frame the state after the heavenly pattern, _ib._ ; . a; . ; education of, . ; philosophers and poets, . [_cp._ laws . ]. philosophic nature, the, rarity of, . ; causes of the ruin of, _ibid._ philosophy, every headache ascribed to, . c; = love of real knowledge, . (cp. _supra_ . e); the corruption of, . ; philosophy and the world, _ib._ ; the desolation of, _ib._ ; philosophy and the arts, _ib._ e, c (cp. _supra_ . d, a); true and false philosophy, . e, e; philosophy and governments, _ib._ ; time set apart for, _ib._ ; . ; commonly neglected in after life, . ; prejudice against, _ib._ , ; why it is useless, . , , ; the guardian and saviour of virtue, . b; philosophy and poetry, . ; aids a man to make a wise choice in the next world, _ib._ . { } phocylides, his saying, 'that as soon as a man has a livelihood he should practise virtue,' . b. phoenician tale, the, . c foll. phoenicians, their love of money, . a. phoenix, tutor of achilles, . e. phrygian harmony, the, . . physician, the, not a mere money maker, . c, d; the good physician, . ; physicians find employment when luxury increases, . c; . a. cp. medicine. pigs, sacrificed at the mysteries, . a. pilot, the, and the just man, . (cp. ); the true pilot, . e. pindar, on the hope of the righteous, . a; on asclepius, . b; --quoted, . b. pipe, the, ([greek: su/rigx]), one of the musical instruments permitted to be used, . d. piraeus, . a; . e; socrates seldom goes there, . c. pittacus of mitylene, a sage, . e. plays of children should be made a means of instruction, . a; . a [_cp._ laws . b]. pleasure, not akin to virtue, . , ; pleasure and love, _ibid._; defined as knowledge or good, . b, b; the highest, . ; caused by the cessation of pain, _ib._ d [_cp._ phaedo a; phil. ]; a motion of the soul, _ib._ e;--real pleasure unknown to the tyrant, _ib._ ; --pleasure of learning, . c (cp. . , , _and_ laws . ); --sensual pleasure, . ; . ; a solvent of the soul, . a [_cp._ laws . e]; not desired by the philosopher, . e:--pleasures, division of, into necessary and unnecessary, . , , a; . , e; honourable and dishonourable, . c; three classes of, . ; criterion of, _ib._ ; classification of, _ib._ ;--pleasures of smell, _ib._ b;--pleasures of the many, ; of the passionate, _ib._ ; of the philosopher, _ib._ , . pluto, . b. poetry, styles of, . - , ; in the state, _ib._ - , ; . b; . foll., a, a [_cp._ laws . ]; effect of, . ; feeds the passions, _ib._ ; poetry and philosophy, _ib._ [_cp._ laws . ]:--'colours' of poetry, _ib._ a. poetry. [_the republic is the first of plato's works in which he seriously examines the value of poetry in education, and the place of the poets in the state. the question could hardly be neglected by the philosopher who proposed to construct an ideal polity or government of the best. for poetry played a great part in hellenic life: the children learned whole poems by heart in their schools_ (protag. a; laws . c); _the rhapsode delighted the crowds at the festivals_ (ion ); _the theatres were free, or almost free, to all, 'costing but a drachma at the most'_ (apol. d); _the intervals of a banquet were filled up by conversation about the poets_ (protag. c). _the quarrel between philosophy and poetry was an ancient one, which had found its first expression in the attacks of xenophanes_ ( b.c.) _and heracleitus_ ( b.c.) _upon the popular mythology. in the earlier dialogues of plato the poets are treated with an ironical courtesy, through which an antagonistic spirit is allowed here and there to appear: they are 'winged and holy beings'_ (ion ) _who sing by inspiration,_ { } _but at the same time are the worst possible critics of their own writings and the most self-conceited of mortals_ (apol. d). _in the republic_ (_ii and iii_), _plato begins the trial of poetry by the enquiry whether the tales and legends related by the epic and tragic poets are true in themselves or likely to furnish good examples to his future citizens. they cannot be true, for they are contrary to the nature of god_ (_see s. v._ god), _and they are certainly not proper lessons for youth. there must be a censorship of poetry, and all objectionable passages expunged; suitable rules and regulations will be laid down, and to these the poets must conform. in the xth book the argument takes a deeper tone. the poet is proved to be an impostor thrice removed from the truth, a wizard who steals the hearts of the unwary by his spells and enchantments. men easily fall into the habit of imitating what they admire; and the lamentations and woes of the tragic hero and the unseemly buffoonery of the comedian are equally bad models for the citizens of a free and noble state. the poets must therefore be banished, unless, plato adds, the lovers of poetry can persuade us of her innocence of the charges laid against her. in the laws a similar conclusion is reached:--'the state is an imitation of the best life, and the noblest form of tragedy. the legislator and the poet are rivals, and the latter can only be tolerated if his words are in harmony with the laws of the state'_ (vii. )]. poets, the, love their poems as their own creation, . c [_cp._ symp. ]; speak in parables, _ib._ b (cp. . b); on justice, . , , e; bad teachers of youth, _ib._ ; . , , c [_cp._ laws . c, a]; must be restrained by certain rules, . foll.; . a [_cp._ laws . , a; . ]; banished from the state, . a; . b; . foll., a, a [_cp._ laws . ]; poets and tyrants, . ; thrice removed from the truth, . , , e, b, c; imitators only, _ib._ , (cp. . , _and_ laws . c); poets and painters, . , , ;--'the poets who were children and prophets of the gods' (? orpheus and musaeus; cp. _supra_ e), . a. polemarchus, the son of cephalus, . b; 'the heir of the argument,' _ib._ ; intervenes in the discussion, _ib._ ; wishes socrates to speak in detail about the community of women and children, . . politicians, in democracies, . . polydamas, the pancratiast, . c. poor, the, have no time to be ill, . e; everywhere hostile to the rich, . a; . e [_cp._ laws . a]; very numerous in oligarchies, . d; not despised by the rich in time of danger, _ib._ c. population, to be regulated, . . poverty, prejudicial to the arts, . ; poverty and crime, . . power, the struggle for, . c [_cp._ laws . a]. pramnian wine, . e, a. priam, homer's delineation of, condemned, . b. prisoners in war, . - . private property, not allowed to the guardians, . e; . a, d; . c; . . prizes of valour, . . prodicus, a popular teacher, . c. { } property, to be common, . e; . a, d; . c; . ; restrictions on the disposition of, . a [_cp._ laws . ]: --property qualifications in oligarchies, _ib._ , . prophets, mendicant, . c. proportion, akin to truth, . e. prose writers on justice, . a. protagoras, his popularity as a teacher, . c. proteus, not to be slandered, . d. proverbs: 'birds of a feather,' . a; 'shave a lion,' _ib._ c; 'let brother help brother,' . d; 'wolf and flock,' . d; 'one great thing,' . e; 'hard is the good,' _ib._ c; 'friends have all things in common,' . c; 'the useful is the noble,' _ib._ b; 'the wise must go to the doors of the rich,' . b (cp. . b); 'what is more than human,' . e; 'the necessity of diomede,' _ib._ d; 'the she-dog as good as her mistress,' . d; 'out of the smoke into the fire,' _ib._ b; 'does not come within a thousand miles' ([greek: ou)d' i)/ktar ba/llei]), . d. public, the, the great sophist, . ; compared to a many-headed beast, _ib._ ; cannot be philosophic, _ib._ a [_cp._ pol. d]. _see_ many, multitude. punishment, of the wicked, in the world below, . ; . . cp. hades, world below. purgation of the luxurious state, . e;--of the city by the tyrant, . d;--of the soul, by the tyrannical man, _ib._ a. pythagoreans, the, authorities on the science of harmony, . , , ; never reach the natural harmonies of number, _ib._ c;--the pythagorean way of life, . a. pythian oracle, the, . e; . c. q. quacks, . . quarrels, dishonourable, . ; . e; will be unknown in the best state, . b; . e [_cp._ laws . ];--quarrels of the gods and heroes, . . r. rational element of the soul, . - ; . a; . a; . , e, [_cp._ tim. e- ]; ought to bear rule, and be assisted by the spirited element against the passions, . e, ; characterized by the love of knowledge, . b; the pleasures of, the truest, _ib._ ; preserves the mind from the illusions of sense, . . rationalism among youth, . [_cp._ laws . ]. reaction, . a. read, learning to, . a. reason, a faculty of the soul, . d (cp. . e); reason and appetite, . (cp. . - , _and_ tim. e foll.); reason should be the guide of pleasure, . - . reflections, . a. relations, slights inflicted by, in old age, . . relative and correlative, qualifications of, . foll. [_cp._ gorg. ]; how corrected, . . relativity of things and individuals, . ; fallacies caused by, . , ; . , c. religion, matters of, left to the god at delphi, . a (cp. . e, a; . b). residues, method of, . e. rest and motion, . . retail traders, necessary in the state, . [_cp._ laws . ]. reverence in the young, . a { } [_cp._ laws , ; . ; . a]. rhetoric, professors of, . d. rhythm, . ; goes with the subject, _ib._ d, b; its persuasive influence, _ib._ e; . b. riches. _see_ wealth. riddle, the, of the eunuch and the bat, . c. ridicule, only to be directed against folly and vice, . e; danger of unrestrained ridicule, . c [_cp._ laws . a]. riding, the children of the guardians to be taught, . ; . a [_cp._ laws . d]. right and might, . foll. ruler, the, in the strict and in the popular sense, . b; the true ruler does not ask, but claim obedience, . c [_cp._ pol. , ]; the ideal ruler, _ib._ :--rulers of states; do they study their own interests? . d, , (cp. . c); are not infallible, . ; how they are paid, _ib._ ; good men do not desire office, _ibid._; . d; why they become rulers, . ; present rulers dishonest, . d: --[in the best state] must be tested by pleasures and pains, . (cp. . a; . e); have the sole privilege of lying, . ; . a, c; . d [_cp._ laws . ]; must be taken from the older citizens, . (cp. . c); will be called friends and saviours, . ; . e; must be philosophers, . ; . ; . , foll., , b; . , , b, ; . ; the qualities which must be found in them, . a; . ; must attain to the knowledge of the good, , ; . ; will accept office as a necessity, . e, a; will be selected at twenty, and again at thirty, from the guardians, _ib._ ; must learn arithmetic, _ib._ - ; geometry, _ib._ , ; astronomy, _ib._ - ; harmony, _ib._ ; at thirty must be initiated into philosophy, _ib._ - ; at thirty-five must enter on active life, _ib._ e; after fifty may return to philosophy, _ib._ ; when they die, will be buried by the state and paid divine honours, . a; . e, a; . b. cp. guardians. s. sacrifices, private, . b, d;--in atonement, . ;--human, in arcadia, . d. sailors, necessary in the state, . b. sarpedon, . c. sauces, not mentioned in homer, . d. scamander, beleaguered by achilles, . b. scepticism, danger of, . , . science ([greek: e)pistê/mê]), a division of the intellectual world, . e (cp. . );--the sciences distinguished by their object, . [_cp._ charm. ]; not to be studied with a view to utility only, . a, , ; their unity, _ib._ ; use hypotheses, _ib._ ; correlation of, _ib._ . sculpture, must only express the image of the good, . b; painting of, . d [_cp._ laws . e]. scylla, . c. scythian, anacharsis the, . a;--scythians, the, characterized by spirit or passion, . e. self-indulgence in men and states, . e, ;--self-interest the natural guide of men, . b;--self-made men bad company, . c; --self-mastery, . , . { } sense, objects of, twofold, . ; knowledge given by, imperfect, _ibid._; . ; sense and intellect, . :--senses, the, classed among faculties, . c. seriphian, story of themistocles and the, . e. servants, old family, . e. sex in the world below, . b;--sexes to follow the same training, . , [_cp._ laws . ]; equality of, advantageous, _ib._ , ; relation between, _ib._ foll. [_cp._ laws . e]; freedom of intercourse between, in a democracy, . b. cp. women. sexual desires, . e [_cp._ laws . a; . e]. shadows, . a;--knowledge of shadows ([greek: ei)kasi/a]), one of the faculties of the soul, . e; . e. shepherd, the analogy of, with the ruler, . , [_cp._ pol. ]. shopkeepers, necessary in the state, . [_cp._ laws . ]. short sight, . d. sicily, 'can tell of charondas,' . e;--sicilian cookery, . d. sight, placed in the class of faculties, . c; requires in addition to vision and colour, a third element, light, . ; the most wonderful of the senses, _ibid._; compared to mind, _ib._ ; . a; illusions of, . ; . , d:--the world of sight, . . sign, the, of socrates, . c. silver, mingled by the god in the auxiliaries, . a (cp. e; . a);--[and gold] not allowed to the guardians, . e; . , d; . d (cp. . ). simonides, his definition of justice discussed, . d-- e; a sage, _ib._ e. simplicity, the first principle of education, . foll., e, ; the two kinds of, _ib._ e; of the good man, _ib._ a; in diet, . c (cp. . d). sin, punishment of, . ; . foll. cp. hades, world below. sirens, harmony of the, . b. skilled person, the, cannot err (thrasymachus), . d. slavery, more to be feared than death, . a; of hellenes condemned, . b. slaves, the uneducated man harsh towards, . a; enjoy great freedom in a democracy, _ib._ b; always inclined to rise against their masters, . [_cp._ laws . , ]. smallness and greatness, . b; . b; . , ; . c; . d, c. smell, pleasures of, . b. snake-charming, . b. socrates, goes down to the peiraeus to see the feast of bendis, . ; detained by polemarchus and glaucon, _ibid._; converses with cephalus, _ib._ - ; trembles before thrasymachus, _ib._ d; his irony, _ib._ a; his poverty, _ib._ d; a sharper in argument, _ib._ d; ignorant of what justice is, _ib._ c; his powers of fascination, . a; requested by glaucon and adeimantus to praise justice _per se_, _ib._ b; cannot refuse to help justice, _ib._ c; . d; his oath 'by the dog,' . e; . e; . a; hoped to have evaded discussing the subject of women and children, . , , (cp. . e); his love of truth, . a; . ; his power in argument, . b; not unaccustomed to speak in parables, _ib._ e; his sign, _ib._ c; his earnestness in behalf of philosophy, . b; his reverence for homer, . c, (cp. . a). { } soldiers, must form a separate class, . ; the diet suited for, . d (cp. guardians);--women to be soldiers, . , , e;--punishment of soldiers for cowardice, _ib._ a. cp. warrior. solon, famous at athens, . e;--quoted, . d. son, the supposititious, parable of, . e. song, parts of, . d. sophists, the, their view of justice, . foll.; verbal quibbles of, _ib._ ; the public the great sophist, . ; the sophists compared to feeders of a beast, _ib._ . sophocles, a remark of, quoted, . b. sorrow, not to be indulged, . ; . - ; has a relaxing effect on the soul, . a; . . soul, the, has ends and excellences, . d; beauty in the soul, . ; the fair soul in the fair body, _ib._ d; sympathy of soul and body, . d, b; conversion of the soul from darkness to light, . , , [_cp._ laws . e]; requires the aid of calculation and intelligence in order to interpret the intimations of sense, _ib._ , ; . ; has more truth and essence than the body, . d;--better and worse principles in the soul, . ; the soul divided into reason, spirit, appetite, _ib._ - ; . a; . a; . , e, [_cp._ tim. e- , e; laws . ]; faculties of the soul, . e; . e; oppositions in the soul, . d [_cp._ soph. a; laws . d];--the lame soul, . ; . [_cp._ tim. ; soph. ];--the soul marred by meanness, . e [_cp._ gorg. e];--immortality of the soul, . foll., (cp. . c);--number of souls does not increase, . a;--the soul after death, _ib._ foll.;--transmigration of souls, _ib._ [_cp._ phaedr. ; tim. e foll.];--the soul impure and disfigured while in the body, _ib._ [_cp._ phaedo ];--compared to a many-headed monster, . ; to the images of the sea-god glaucus, . ;--like the eye, . ; . ;--harmony of the soul, produced by temperance, . , , (cp. . d, _and_ laws . b);--eye of the soul, . d, e, d, a;--five forms of the state and soul, . ; . ; . . soul. [_the psychology of the republic, while agreeing generally with that of the other dialogues, is in some respects a modification or developement of their conclusions.--the division of the soul into three elements, reason, spirit, appetite, here first assumes a precise form, and henceforward has a permanent place in the language of philosophy_ (_cp._ introd. p. lxvii). _on this division the distinction between forms of government is based_ (_see s. v._ government). _virtue, again, is the harmony or accord of the different elements, when the dictates of reason are enforced by passion against the appetites, while vice is the anarchy or discord of the soul when passion and appetite join in rebellion against reason_ (_cp._ . ; . foll.; soph. ; pol. d; laws . c].--_regarded from the intellectual side the soul is analysed into four faculties, reason, understanding, faith, knowledge of shadows. these severally correspond to the four divisions of knowledge_ ( . e), _two for intellect and two for opinion; and thus arises the platonic 'proportion,'_--_being_ : _becoming_ :: _intellect_ : _opinion, and science_ : _belief_ { } :: _understanding_ : _knowledge of shadows. these divisions are partly real, partly formed by a logical process, which, as in so many distinctions of ancient philosophers, has outrun fact, and are further illustrated and explained by the allegory of the cave in book vii_ (_see_ introduction, p. xciv).--_the pre-existence and the immortality of the soul are assumed. the doctrine of [greek: a)na/mnêsis] or 'remembrance of a previous birth' is not so much dwelt upon as in the meno, phaedo, or phaedrus, neither is it made a proof of immortality_ (meno ; phaedo ). _it is apparently alluded to in the story of er, where we are told that 'the pilgrims drank the waters of unmindfulness; the foolish took too deep a draught, but the wise were more moderate'_ ( . a). _in the xth book glaucon is supposed to receive with amazement socrates' confident assertion of immortality, although a previous allusion to another state of existence has passed unheeded_ ( . d); _and in earlier parts of the discussion_ (_e.g._ . ; . ), _the censure which is passed on the common representations of hades implies in itself some belief in a future life_ [_cp._ introduction to phaedo, vol. i]. _the argument for the immortality of the soul is not drawn out at great length or with the emphasis of the phaedo. it is chiefly of a verbal character:--all things which perish are destroyed by some inherent evil; but the soul is not destroyed by sin, which is the evil proper to her, and must therefore be immortal_ (_cp._ introd. p. clxvi).--_the condition of the soul after death is represented by plato in his favourite form of a myth_ [_cp._ meno ; phaedo ; gorg. ]. _the pamphylian warrior er, who is supposed to have died in battle, revives when placed on the funeral pyre and relates his experiences in the other world. he tells how the just are rewarded and the wicked punished, and is privileged to describe the spectacle which he had witnessed of the choice of a new life by the pilgrim souls. the reward of release from bodily existence is not held out to the philosopher_ (phaedo c), _but his wisdom, which has a deeper root than habit_ ( . ), _preserves him from overhaste in his choice and ensures him a happy destiny.--the transmigration of souls is represented in the myth much as in the phaedrus and timaeus. plato in all likelihood derived the doctrine from an oriental source, but through pythagorean channels. it probably had a real hold on his mind, as it agreed, or could be made to agree, with the conviction, which he elsewhere expresses, of the remedial nature of punishment_ [_cp._ protag. ; gorg. - ]. sounds in music, . a. sparta. _see_ lacedaemon. spectator, the, unconsciously influenced by what he sees and hears, . , [_cp._ laws . a, c];--the philosopher the spectator of all time and all existence, . a [_cp._ theaet. e]. spendthrifts, in greek states, . . spercheius, the river-god, . b. spirit, must be combined with gentleness in the guardians, . ; . ; . [_cp._ laws . b]; characteristic of northern nations, . e; found in quite young children, _ib._ a [_cp._ laws; . { } ]:--the spirited (or passionate) element in the soul, _ib._ foll.; . a; . a; . a, e; must be subject to the rational part, . e [_cp._ tim. c, , d]; predominant in the timocratic state and man, . , b; characterised by ambition, . b; its pleasures, _ib._ d; the favourite object of the poet's imitation, . , . stars, motion of the, . , ; . e. state, relation of, to the individual, . ; . , ; . ; . ; . b [_cp._ laws . ; . ; . , c; . ]; origin of, . foll. [_cp._ laws . foll.]; should be in unity, . ; . [_cp._ laws . ]; place of the virtues in, . foll.; virtue of state and individual, _ib._ ; . e; family life in, . [_cp._ laws . ]:--the luxurious state, . d foll.:--[the best state]; classes must be kept distinct, _ib._ ; . e, a; . , a, , e, ; . (cp. . a, _and_ laws . e); the rulers must be philosophers, . ; . ; . , foll., , b; . , , b, ; . (cp. rulers); the government must have the monopoly of lying, . ; . a, c; . d [_cp._ laws . e]; the poets to be banished, . a; . b; . foll., a, a [_cp._ laws . ]; the older must bear rule, the younger obey, . [_cp._ laws . a; . e]; women, children, and goods to be common, _ib._ ; . e, foll., , ; . a [_cp._ laws . ; . b]; must be happy as a whole, . d; . a; . e; will easily master other states in war, . ; must be of a size which is not inconsistent with unity, _ib._ [_cp._ laws . ]; composed of three classes, traders, auxiliaries, counsellors, _ib._ a; may be either a monarchy or an aristocracy, _ib._ c (cp. . d); will form one family, . [_cp._ pol. ]; will be free from quarrels and law-suits, . ; . , ;--is it possible? . , ; . ; . [_cp._ . _and_ laws . e; . ]; framed after the heavenly pattern, . e; . a; . ; how to be commenced, . ; . ; manner of its decline, . [_cp._ crit. ];--the best state that in which the rulers least desire office, . , :--the four imperfect forms of states, . b; . [_cp._ pol. foll., foll.]; succession of states, . foll. (cp. government, forms of):--existing states not one but many, . a; nearly all corrupt, . ; . , ; . . state. [_the polity of which plato 'sketches the outline' in the republic may be analysed into two principal elements,_ i, _an hellenic state of the older or spartan type, with some traits borrowed from athens,_ ii, _an ideal city in which the citizens have all things in common, and the government is carried on by a class of philosopher rulers who are selected by merit. these two elements are not perfectly combined; and, as aristotle complains_ (pol. ii. , § ), _very much is left ill-defined and uncertain._--i. _like hellenic cities in general, the number of the citizens is not to be great. the size of the state is limited by the requirement that 'it shall not be larger or smaller than is consistent with unity.'_ [_the 'convenient number' , which is_ { } _suggested in the laws_ (v. ), _is regarded by aristotle_ (pol. ii. , § ) _as an 'enormous multitude.'_] _again, the individual is subordinate to the state. when adeimantus complains of the hard life which the citizens will lead, 'like mercenaries in a garrison'_ ( . ), _he is answered by socrates that if the happiness of the whole is secured, the happiness of the parts will inevitably follow. once more, war is supposed to be the normal condition of the state, and military service is imposed upon all. the profession of arms is the only one in which the citizen may properly engage. trade is regarded as dishonourable:--'those who are good for nothing else sit in the agora buying and selling'_ ( . d); _the warrior can spare no time for such an employment_ (_ib._ c). [_in the laws plato's ideas enlarge; he thinks that peace is to be preferred to war_ ( . ); _and he speculates on the possibility of redeeming trade from reproach by compelling some of the best citizens to open a shop or keep a tavern_ ( . ).]--_in these respects, as well as in the introduction of common meals, plato was probably influenced by the traditional ideal of sparta_ [_cp._ introd. p. clxx]. _the athenian element appears in the intellectual training of the citizens, and generally in the atmosphere of grace and refinement which they are to breathe_ (_see s. v._ art). _the restless energy of the athenian character is perhaps reflected in the discipline imposed upon the ruling class_ ( . ), _who when they have reached fifty are dispensed from continuous public service, but must then devote themselves to abstract study, and also be willing to take their turn when necessary at the helm of state_ [_cp._ laws . ; thucyd. i. ; ii. ].--ii. _the most peculiar features of plato's state are_ ( ) _the community of property,_ ( ) _the position of women,_ ( ) _the government of philosophers._ ( ) _the first_ (_see s. v._), _though suggested in some measure by the example of sparta or crete_ [_cp._ arist. pol. ii. , § ], _is not known to have been actually practised anywhere in hellas, unless possibly among such a body as the pythagorean brotherhood._ ( ) _nothing in all the republic was probably stranger to his contemporaries than the place which plato assigns to women in the state. the community of wives and children, though carefully guarded by him from the charge of licentiousness_ ( . e), _would appear worse in athenian eyes than the traditional 'licence' of the spartan women_ [arist. pol. ii. , § ), _which, so far as it really existed, no doubt arose out of an excessive regard to physical considerations in marriage. again, the equal share in education, in war, and in administration which the women are supposed to enjoy in plato's state, was, if not so revolting, quite as contrary to common hellenic sentiment_ [_cp._ thucyd. ii. ]. _the spartan women exercised a great influence on public affairs, but this was mainly indirect_ [_cp._ laws . ; arist. pol. ii. , § ]; _they did not hold office or learn the use of arms. at athens, as is well known, the women, of the upper classes at least, lived in an almost oriental seclusion, and were wholly absorbed in household duties_ (laws . e). ( ) _finally, the government of philosophers had no analogy in the hellenic world of_ { } _plato's time. he may have taken the suggestion from the stories of the pythagorean rule in magna graecia. but it is also possible that these accounts of the brotherhood of pythagoras, some of which have reached us on very doubtful authority, may be themselves to a considerable extent coloured and distorted by features adapted from the republic. whether this is the case or not, we can hardly doubt that plato was chiefly indebted to his own imagination for his kingdom of philosophers, or that it remained to himself an ideal, rather than a state which would ever 'play her part in actual life'_ (tim. , ). _it is at least significant that he never finished the critias, as though he were unable to embody, even in a mythical form, the 'city of which the pattern is laid up in heaven.'_] statesmen in their own imagination, . . statues, polished for a decision, . d; painted, . d. steadiness of character, apt to be accompanied by stupidity, . [_cp._ theaet. b]. stesichorus, says that helen was never at troy, . c. stories, improper, not to be told to children, . ; . . cp. children, education. strength, rule of, . . style of poetry, . ;--styles, various, _ib._ . styx, . b. suits, will be unknown in the best state, . e. sumptuary laws, . , . sun, the, compared with the idea of good, . ; not sight, but the author of sight, _ib._ ;--'the sun of heracleitus,' _ib._ a. supposititious son, parable of the, . . sympathy, of soul and body, . d, b; aroused by poetry, . b. syracusan dinners, . d. t. tactics, use of arithmetic in, . e, b. tartarus (= hell), . a. taste, good, importance of, . , . taxes, heavy, imposed by the tyrant, . a, e. teiresias, alone has understanding among the dead, . e. telamon, . b. temperance ([greek: sôphrosu/nê]), in the state, . ; . foll. [_cp._ laws . ]; temperance and love, . a; fostered in the soul by the simple kind of music, _ib._ e, a; a harmony of the soul, . , e, d, (cp. . d, _and_ laws . b); one of the philosopher's virtues, . e, e, b, b [_cp._ phaedo ]. temple-robbing, . d, b. territory, devastation of hellenic, not to be allowed, . ;--unlimited, not required by the good state, . [_cp._ laws . ]. thales, inventions of, . a. thamyras, soul of, chooses the life of a nightingale, . a. theages, the bridle of, . b. themis, did not instigate the strife with the gods, . e. themistocles, answer of, to the seriphian, . a. theology of plato, . foll. cp. god. thersites, puts on the form of a monkey, . c. theseus, the tale of, and peirithous not permitted, . c. thetis, not to be slandered, . d; { } her accusation of apollo, _ib._ a. thirst, . e, ; an inanition ([greek: ke/nôsis]) of the body, . a. thracians, procession of, in honour of bendis, . a; characterised by spirit or passion, . e. thrasymachus, the chalcedonian, a person in the dialogue, . b; described, _ib._ b; will be paid, _ib._ d; defines justice, _ib._ c foll.; his rudeness, _ib._ a; his views of government, _ibid._ (cp. . d); his encomium on injustice, . a; his manner of speech, _ib._ b; his paradox about justice and injustice, _ib._ b foll.; he blushes, _ib._ d; is pacified, and retires from the argument, _ib._ (cp. . c); would have socrates discuss the subject of women and children, . . timocracy, . foll.; origin of, ib. :--the timocratical man, described, . ; his origin, _ibid._ tinker, the prosperous, . , . tops, . . torch race, an equestrian, . a. touch, . e. traders, necessary in the state, . . traditions of ancient times, their truth not certainly known to us, . c (cp. . c, _and_ tim. d; crit. ; pol. a; laws . e; . d). tragedy and comedy in the state, . [_cp._ laws . ]. tragic poets, the, eulogizers of tyranny, . a; imitators, . , . training, dangers of, . a; severity of, . a (cp. . b). transfer of children from one class to another, . ; . d. transmigration of souls, . . see soul. trochaic rhythms, . b. troy, . e; helen never at, . c:--trojan war, . a: treatment of the wounded in, . e, a; the army numbered by palamedes, . d. truth, is not lost by men of their own will, . a; the aim of the philosopher, . , , e, , c, d; . , d; . , c (cp. _supra_ . e; . , ; _and_ phaedo ; phaedr. ; theaet. e; soph. d, a); akin to wisdom, . d; to proportion, _ib._ e; no partial measure of, sufficient, _ib._ ; love of, essential in this world and the next, . ;--truth and essence, . d. tyranny, . d; = injustice on the grand scale, _ib._ [_cp._ gorg. ]; the wretchedest form of government, . c; . [_cp._ pol. e]; origin of, . , :--the tyrannical man, . foll.; life of, _ib._ ; his treatment of his parents, _ib._ ; most miserable, _ib._ , ; has the soul of a slave, _ib._ . tyrant, the, origin of, . ; happiness of, _ib._ foll.; . foll. [_cp._ laws . b]; his rise to power, . ; his taxes, _ib._ a, e; his army, _ib._ a, ; his purgation of the city, _ib._ b; misery of, . ; has no real pleasure, _ib._ ; how far distant from pleasure, _ibid._:--tyrants and poets, . ; have no friends, _ibid._; . [_cp._ gorg. c]; punishment of, in the world below, . [_cp._ gorg. ]. u. understanding, a faculty of the soul, . d; = science, . e. union impossible among the bad, . a [_cp._ lysis ]. { } unity of the state, . , ; . , [_cp._ laws . ]; --absolute unity, . e, e; unity and plurality, _ibid._ unjust man, the, happy (thrasymachus), . , [_cp._ gorg. foll.]; his unhappiness finally proved, . ; . :--injustice = private profit, . (_see_ injustice). uranus, immoral stories about, . e. user, the, a better judge than the maker, . c [_cp._ crat. ]. usury, sometimes not protected by law, . a [_cp._ laws . c]. v. valetudinarianism, . ; . a. valour, prizes of, . . vice, the disease of the soul, . ; . foll. [_cp._ soph. ; pol. d; laws . c]; is many, . ; the proper object of ridicule, . e;--fine names for the vices, . e. cp. injustice. virtue and justice, . [_cp._ meno e, ]; thought by mankind to be toilsome, . a [_cp._ laws d]; virtue and harmony, . a (_cp._ . a); virtue and pleasure, . e (cp. pleasure); not promoted by excessive care of the body, _ib._ (_cp._ . d); makes men wise, . e; divided into parts, . foll., ; in the individual and the state, _ib._ foll., (cp. justice); the health of the soul, _ib._ (cp. . foll., _and_ soph. ; pol. d); is one, _ib._ ; may be a matter of habit, . e; . d; impeded by wealth, . e [_cp._ laws . a, ; . , a];--virtues of the philosopher, . foll., d, b, b (cp. philosopher); place of the several virtues in the state, . foll. visible world, divisions of, . foll.; . ; compared to the intellectual, . , ; . a. vision, . ; . ; . . _see_ sight. w. war, causes of, . ; . foll.; . a; an art, . a (cp. . , _and_ laws . e); men, women, and children to go to, . foll., , e; . a; regulations concerning, . - ; a matter of chance, _ib._ e [_cp._ laws . a]; distinction between internal and external, _ib._ a [_cp._ laws . , ]; the guilt of, always confined to a few persons, _ib._ b; love of, especially characteristic of timocracy, . e; cannot be easily waged by an oligarchy, _ib._ e; the rich and the poor in war, _ib._ c; a favourite resource of the tyrant, _ib._ a. warrior, the brave, rewards of, . ; his burial, _ib._ e; the warrior must know how to count, . e, ; must be a geometrician, _ib._ . waves, the three, . c, a, c. weak, the, by nature subject to the strong, . [_cp._ gorg. ; laws . b]; not capable of much, either for good or evil, . e, b. wealth, the advantage of, in old age, . , ; the greatest blessing of, _ib._ , ; the destruction of the arts, . ; influence of, on the state, _ib._ a [_cp._ laws . ; . a]; the 'sinews of war,' _ibid._; all-powerful in oligarchies and timocracies, . a, b, , a; an impediment to virtue, { } _ib._ e [_cp._ laws . a; e; . , a]; should only be acquired to a moderate amount, . e [_cp._ laws . b]:--the blind god of wealth (pluto), . b: --wealthy, the, everywhere hostile to the poor, . a; . e [_cp._ laws . a]; flattered by them, . c; the wealthy and the wise, . b; plundered by the multitude in democracies, . , . weaving, the art of, . a; . d. weep, the guardians not to, . c (cp. . e). weighing, art of, corrects the illusions of sight, . d. whole, the, in regard to the happiness of the state, . d; . a; . e; in love, . c, b; . b. whorl, the great, . . wicked, the, punishment of, in the world below, . ; . ; thought by men to be happy, . ; . a; . b (cp. . a, _and_ gorg. foll.; laws . ; . e, a). wine, lovers of, . a. wisdom ([greek: sophi/a, phro/nêsis]) and injustice, . , ; in the state, . ; akin to truth, . d; the power of, . , ; the only virtue which is innate in us, _ib._ e. wise man, the, = the good, . [_cp._ alcib. , ]; definition of, . c; alone has true pleasure, . b; life of, _ib._ ;--'the wise to go to the doors of the rich,' . b;--wise men said to be the friends of the tyrant, . . wives to be common in the state, . foll.; . . wolves, men changed into, . d; 'wolf and flock' (proverb), . d. women, employments of, . ; differences of taste in, _ib._ ; fond of complaining, . d; supposed to differ in nature from men, . ; inferior to men, _ib._ [_cp._ tim. ; laws . ]; ought to be trained like men, _ib._ , [_cp._ laws . ; . e]; in the gymnasia, _ib._ , [_cp._ laws . , ; . ]; in war, _ib._ foll., e, e [_cp._ laws . ; . , a]; to be guardians, _ib._ , , ; . c; (and children) to be common, . e, foll., , ; . [_cp._ laws . ]. _see supra s. v._ state, p. . world, the, cannot be a philosopher, . a. world below, the, seems very near to the aged, . e; not to be reviled, . foll. [_cp._ crat. ; laws . e; . d]; pleasure of discourse in, . d [_cp._ apol. ]; punishment of the wicked in, . ; . foll.; sex in, . b;--[heroes] who have ascended from the world below to the gods, . c. x. xerxes, perhaps author of the maxim that justice = paying one's debts, . a. y. young, the, how affected by the common praises of injustice, . ; cannot understand allegory, _ib._ e; must be subject in the state, . b [_cp._ laws . a; . e]; must submit to their elders, . a [_cp._ laws . d; . c; . a]. cp. children, education. youth, the corruption of, not to be attributed to the sophists, but to { } public opinion, . a;--youthful enthusiasm for metaphysics, . b [_cp._ phil. e];--youthful scepticism, not of long continuance, _ib._ d [_cp._ soph. e; laws . b]. z. zeus, his treatment of his father, . e; throws hephaestus from heaven, _ib._ d;--achilles descended from, . c;--did not cause the violation of the treaty in the trojan war, or the strife of the gods, . e; or send the lying dream to agamemnon, _ib._ a; or lust for herè, . b; ought not to have been described by homer as lamenting for achilles and sarpedon, _ib._ c;--lycaean zeus, . d;--olympian zeus, . b. the end. oxford printed at the clarendon press by horace hart printer to the university * * * * * transcriber's note the reference text was kindly provided by the internet archive, https://archive.org/download/a platuoft/a platuoft.pdf. corrections and emendations in the introduction page xxv, a final quotation mark has been restored that dropped out after the first edition. on page l, shakespere has been changed to shakespeare. in section c, the third edition closes a parenthesis with a comma, thus ,); the comma has been deleted as in earlier editions. in the index, s.v. aglaion, the name has been made consistent with the text; it reads aglaon in the rd edition. s.v. athené, acheans has been changed to achaeans to maintain consistency, s.v. festival, bendidaea has been changed to bendidea, and s.v. luxury, lycean has been changed to lycaean, for the same reason. various other inconsistencies have been left untouched (e.g. [arist. pol. ii. , § ) in the index in the article on state; italicising of supra, etc.). in the index also, a reference, s.v. intoxication, to drinking fails to refer; it should be to drunkenness. conventions in this text sidenotes in the introduction and material in the left margin of the translated part of the book have been labelled [sidenote: and placed above the paragraph beside which they are placed. page numbers have been placed in the body of the text within {}. material in the right margin, the stephanus numbering, has been placed in the body of the text within ** - in the translated text the section letters (a-e) have been taken from a two-volume edition published in and all stephanus numbers in the translation have been given in full (so a instead of , and note that the space between number and letter has been omitted). page numbers and the stephanus numbering have been given a space on either side, even when this goes against project gutenberg conventions. footnotes have been labelled [footnote and have been placed below the paragraph in which they occur. they are numbered consecutively within the introduction and each book of the translation. greek has been transliterated in full: ) is used for smooth breathing; ( for hard; + for diaeresis; / for acute accent; \ for grave; = for circumflex; | for iota subscript; ch is used for chi, ph for phi, ps for psi, th for theta; ê for eta and ô for omega; u is used for upsilon in all cases. laws by plato translated by benjamin jowett introduction and analysis. the genuineness of the laws is sufficiently proved ( ) by more than twenty citations of them in the writings of aristotle, who was residing at athens during the last twenty years of the life of plato, and who, having left it after his death (b.c. ), returned thither twelve years later (b.c. ); ( ) by the allusion of isocrates (oratio ad philippum missa, p. : to men tais paneguresin enochlein kai pros apantas legein tous sunprechontas en autais pros oudena legein estin, all omoios oi toioutoi ton logon (sc. speeches in the assembly) akuroi tugchanousin ontes tois nomois kai tais politeiais tais upo ton sophiston gegrammenais.) --writing b.c., a year after the death of plato, and probably not more than three or four years after the composition of the laws--who speaks of the laws and republics written by philosophers (upo ton sophiston); ( ) by the reference (athen.) of the comic poet alexis, a younger contemporary of plato (fl. b.c - ), to the enactment about prices, which occurs in laws xi., viz that the same goods should not be offered at two prices on the same day (ou gegone kreitton nomothetes tou plousiou aristonikou tithesi gar nuni nomon, ton ichthuopolon ostis an polon tini ichthun upotimesas apodot elattonos es eipe times, eis to desmoterion euthus apagesthai touton, ina dedoikotes tes axias agaposin, e tes esperas saprous apantas apopherosin oikade. meineke, frag. com. graec.); ( ) by the unanimous voice of later antiquity and the absence of any suspicion among ancient writers worth speaking of to the contrary; for it is not said of philippus of opus that he composed any part of the laws, but only that he copied them out of the waxen tablets, and was thought by some to have written the epinomis (diog. laert.) that the longest and one of the best writings bearing the name of plato should be a forgery, even if its genuineness were unsupported by external testimony, would be a singular phenomenon in ancient literature; and although the critical worth of the consensus of late writers is generally not to be compared with the express testimony of contemporaries, yet a somewhat greater value may be attributed to their consent in the present instance, because the admission of the laws is combined with doubts about the epinomis, a spurious writing, which is a kind of epilogue to the larger work probably of a much later date. this shows that the reception of the laws was not altogether undiscriminating. the suspicion which has attached to the laws of plato in the judgment of some modern writers appears to rest partly ( ) on differences in the style and form of the work, and ( ) on differences of thought and opinion which they observe in them. their suspicion is increased by the fact that these differences are accompanied by resemblances as striking to passages in other platonic writings. they are sensible of a want of point in the dialogue and a general inferiority in the ideas, plan, manners, and style. they miss the poetical flow, the dramatic verisimilitude, the life and variety of the characters, the dialectic subtlety, the attic purity, the luminous order, the exquisite urbanity; instead of which they find tautology, obscurity, self-sufficiency, sermonizing, rhetorical declamation, pedantry, egotism, uncouth forms of sentences, and peculiarities in the use of words and idioms. they are unable to discover any unity in the patched, irregular structure. the speculative element both in government and education is superseded by a narrow economical or religious vein. the grace and cheerfulness of athenian life have disappeared; and a spirit of moroseness and religious intolerance has taken their place. the charm of youth is no longer there; the mannerism of age makes itself unpleasantly felt. the connection is often imperfect; and there is a want of arrangement, exhibited especially in the enumeration of the laws towards the end of the work. the laws are full of flaws and repetitions. the greek is in places very ungrammatical and intractable. a cynical levity is displayed in some passages, and a tone of disappointment and lamentation over human things in others. the critics seem also to observe in them bad imitations of thoughts which are better expressed in plato's other writings. lastly, they wonder how the mind which conceived the republic could have left the critias, hermocrates, and philosophus incomplete or unwritten, and have devoted the last years of life to the laws. the questions which have been thus indirectly suggested may be considered by us under five or six heads: i, the characters; ii, the plan; iii, the style; iv, the imitations of other writings of plato; v; the more general relation of the laws to the republic and the other dialogues; and vi, to the existing athenian and spartan states. i. already in the philebus the distinctive character of socrates has disappeared; and in the timaeus, sophist, and statesman his function of chief speaker is handed over to the pythagorean philosopher timaeus, and to the eleatic stranger, at whose feet he sits, and is silent. more and more plato seems to have felt in his later writings that the character and method of socrates were no longer suited to be the vehicle of his own philosophy. he is no longer interrogative but dogmatic; not 'a hesitating enquirer,' but one who speaks with the authority of a legislator. even in the republic we have seen that the argument which is carried on by socrates in the old style with thrasymachus in the first book, soon passes into the form of exposition. in the laws he is nowhere mentioned. yet so completely in the tradition of antiquity is socrates identified with plato, that in the criticism of the laws which we find in the so-called politics of aristotle he is supposed by the writer still to be playing his part of the chief speaker (compare pol.). the laws are discussed by three representatives of athens, crete, and sparta. the athenian, as might be expected, is the protagonist or chief speaker, while the second place is assigned to the cretan, who, as one of the leaders of a new colony, has a special interest in the conversation. at least four-fifths of the answers are put into his mouth. the spartan is every inch a soldier, a man of few words himself, better at deeds than words. the athenian talks to the two others, although they are his equals in age, in the style of a master discoursing to his scholars; he frequently praises himself; he entertains a very poor opinion of the understanding of his companions. certainly the boastfulness and rudeness of the laws is the reverse of the refined irony and courtesy which characterize the earlier dialogues. we are no longer in such good company as in the phaedrus and symposium. manners are lost sight of in the earnestness of the speakers, and dogmatic assertions take the place of poetical fancies. the scene is laid in crete, and the conversation is held in the course of a walk from cnosus to the cave and temple of zeus, which takes place on one of the longest and hottest days of the year. the companions start at dawn, and arrive at the point in their conversation which terminates the fourth book, about noon. the god to whose temple they are going is the lawgiver of crete, and this may be supposed to be the very cave at which he gave his oracles to minos. but the externals of the scene, which are briefly and inartistically described, soon disappear, and we plunge abruptly into the subject of the dialogue. we are reminded by contrast of the higher art of the phaedrus, in which the summer's day, and the cool stream, and the chirping of the grasshoppers, and the fragrance of the agnus castus, and the legends of the place are present to the imagination throughout the discourse. the typical athenian apologizes for the tendency of his countrymen 'to spin a long discussion out of slender materials,' and in a similar spirit the lacedaemonian megillus apologizes for the spartan brevity (compare thucydid.), acknowledging at the same time that there may be occasions when long discourses are necessary. the family of megillus is the proxenus of athens at sparta; and he pays a beautiful compliment to the athenian, significant of the character of the work, which, though borrowing many elements from sparta, is also pervaded by an athenian spirit. a good athenian, he says, is more than ordinarily good, because he is inspired by nature and not manufactured by law. the love of listening which is attributed to the timocrat in the republic is also exhibited in him. the athenian on his side has a pleasure in speaking to the lacedaemonian of the struggle in which their ancestors were jointly engaged against the persians. a connexion with athens is likewise intimated by the cretan cleinias. he is the relative of epimenides, whom, by an anachronism of a century,--perhaps arising as zeller suggests (plat. stud.) out of a confusion of the visit of epimenides and diotima (symp.),--he describes as coming to athens, not after the attempt of cylon, but ten years before the persian war. the cretan and lacedaemonian hardly contribute at all to the argument of which the athenian is the expounder; they only supply information when asked about the institutions of their respective countries. a kind of simplicity or stupidity is ascribed to them. at first, they are dissatisfied with the free criticisms which the athenian passes upon the laws of minos and lycurgus, but they acquiesce in his greater experience and knowledge of the world. they admit that there can be no objection to the enquiry; for in the spirit of the legislator himself, they are discussing his laws when there are no young men present to listen. they are unwilling to allow that the spartan and cretan lawgivers can have been mistaken in honouring courage as the first part of virtue, and are puzzled at hearing for the first time that 'goods are only evil to the evil.' several times they are on the point of quarrelling, and by an effort learn to restrain their natural feeling (compare shakespeare, henry v, act iii. sc. ). in book vii., the lacedaemonian expresses a momentary irritation at the accusation which the athenian brings against the spartan institutions, of encouraging licentiousness in their women, but he is reminded by the cretan that the permission to criticize them freely has been given, and cannot be retracted. his only criterion of truth is the authority of the spartan lawgiver; he is 'interested,' in the novel speculations of the athenian, but inclines to prefer the ordinances of lycurgus. the three interlocutors all of them speak in the character of old men, which forms a pleasant bond of union between them. they have the feelings of old age about youth, about the state, about human things in general. nothing in life seems to be of much importance to them; they are spectators rather than actors, and men in general appear to the athenian speaker to be the playthings of the gods and of circumstances. still they have a fatherly care of the young, and are deeply impressed by sentiments of religion. they would give confidence to the aged by an increasing use of wine, which, as they get older, is to unloose their tongues and make them sing. the prospect of the existence of the soul after death is constantly present to them; though they can hardly be said to have the cheerful hope and resignation which animates socrates in the phaedo or cephalus in the republic. plato appears to be expressing his own feelings in remarks of this sort. for at the time of writing the first book of the laws he was at least seventy-four years of age, if we suppose him to allude to the victory of the syracusans under dionysius the younger over the locrians, which occurred in the year . such a sadness was the natural effect of declining years and failing powers, which make men ask, 'after all, what profit is there in life?' they feel that their work is beginning to be over, and are ready to say, 'all the world is a stage;' or, in the actual words of plato, 'let us play as good plays as we can,' though 'we must be sometimes serious, which is not agreeable, but necessary.' these are feelings which have crossed the minds of reflective persons in all ages, and there is no reason to connect the laws any more than other parts of plato's writings with the very uncertain narrative of his life, or to imagine that this melancholy tone is attributable to disappointment at having failed to convert a sicilian tyrant into a philosopher. ii. the plan of the laws is more irregular and has less connexion than any other of the writings of plato. as aristotle says in the politics, 'the greater part consists of laws'; in books v, vi, xi, xii the dialogue almost entirely disappears. large portions of them are rather the materials for a work than a finished composition which may rank with the other platonic dialogues. to use his own image, 'some stones are regularly inserted in the building; others are lying on the ground ready for use.' there is probably truth in the tradition that the laws were not published until after the death of plato. we can easily believe that he has left imperfections, which would have been removed if he had lived a few years longer. the arrangement might have been improved; the connexion of the argument might have been made plainer, and the sentences more accurately framed. something also may be attributed to the feebleness of old age. even a rough sketch of the phaedrus or symposium would have had a very different look. there is, however, an interest in possessing one writing of plato which is in the process of creation. we must endeavour to find a thread of order which will carry us through this comparative disorder. the first four books are described by plato himself as the preface or preamble. having arrived at the conclusion that each law should have a preamble, the lucky thought occurs to him at the end of the fourth book that the preceding discourse is the preamble of the whole. this preamble or introduction may be abridged as follows:-- the institutions of sparta and crete are admitted by the lacedaemonian and cretan to have one aim only: they were intended by the legislator to inspire courage in war. to this the athenian objects that the true lawgiver should frame his laws with a view to all the virtues and not to one only. better is he who has temperance as well as courage, than he who has courage only; better is he who is faithful in civil broils, than he who is a good soldier only. better, too, is peace than war; the reconciliation than the defeat of an enemy. and he who would attain all virtue should be trained amid pleasures as well as pains. hence there should be convivial intercourse among the citizens, and a man's temperance should be tested in his cups, as we test his courage amid dangers. he should have a fear of the right sort, as well as a courage of the right sort. at the beginning of the second book the subject of pleasure leads to education, which in the early years of life is wholly a discipline imparted by the means of pleasure and pain. the discipline of pleasure is implanted chiefly by the practice of the song and the dance. of these the forms should be fixed, and not allowed to depend on the fickle breath of the multitude. there will be choruses of boys, girls, and grown-up persons, and all will be heard repeating the same strain, that 'virtue is happiness.' one of them will give the law to the rest; this will be the chorus of aged minstrels, who will sing the most beautiful and the most useful of songs. they will require a little wine, to mellow the austerity of age, and make them amenable to the laws. after having laid down as the first principle of politics, that peace, and not war, is the true aim of the legislator, and briefly discussed music and festive intercourse, at the commencement of the third book plato makes a digression, in which he speaks of the origin of society. he describes, first of all, the family; secondly, the patriarchal stage, which is an aggregation of families; thirdly, the founding of regular cities, like ilium; fourthly, the establishment of a military and political system, like that of sparta, with which he identifies argos and messene, dating from the return of the heraclidae. but the aims of states should be good, or else, like the prayer of theseus, they may be ruinous to themselves. this was the case in two out of three of the heracleid kingdoms. they did not understand that the powers in a state should be balanced. the balance of powers saved sparta, while the excess of tyranny in persia and the excess of liberty at athens have been the ruin of both...this discourse on politics is suddenly discovered to have an immediate practical use; for cleinias the cretan is about to give laws to a new colony. at the beginning of the fourth book, after enquiring into the circumstances and situation of the colony, the athenian proceeds to make further reflections. chance, and god, and the skill of the legislator, all co-operate in the formation of states. and the most favourable condition for the foundation of a new one is when the government is in the hands of a virtuous tyrant who has the good fortune to be the contemporary of a great legislator. but a virtuous tyrant is a contradiction in terms; we can at best only hope to have magistrates who are the servants of reason and the law. this leads to the enquiry, what is to be the polity of our new state. and the answer is, that we are to fear god, and honour our parents, and to cultivate virtue and justice; these are to be our first principles. laws must be definite, and we should create in the citizens a predisposition to obey them. the legislator will teach as well as command; and with this view he will prefix preambles to his principal laws. the fifth book commences in a sort of dithyramb with another and higher preamble about the honour due to the soul, whence are deduced the duties of a man to his parents and his friends, to the suppliant and stranger. he should be true and just, free from envy and excess of all sorts, forgiving to crimes which are not incurable and are partly involuntary; and he should have a true taste. the noblest life has the greatest pleasures and the fewest pains...having finished the preamble, and touched on some other preliminary considerations, we proceed to the laws, beginning with the constitution of the state. this is not the best or ideal state, having all things common, but only the second-best, in which the land and houses are to be distributed among citizens divided into four classes. there is to be no gold or silver among them, and they are to have moderate wealth, and to respect number and numerical order in all things. in the first part of the sixth book, plato completes his sketch of the constitution by the appointment of officers. he explains the manner in which guardians of the law, generals, priests, wardens of town and country, ministers of education, and other magistrates are to be appointed; and also in what way courts of appeal are to be constituted, and omissions in the law to be supplied. next--and at this point the laws strictly speaking begin--there follow enactments respecting marriage and the procreation of children, respecting property in slaves as well as of other kinds, respecting houses, married life, common tables for men and women. the question of age in marriage suggests the consideration of a similar question about the time for holding offices, and for military service, which had been previously omitted. resuming the order of the discussion, which was indicated in the previous book, from marriage and birth we proceed to education in the seventh book. education is to begin at or rather before birth; to be continued for a time by mothers and nurses under the supervision of the state; finally, to comprehend music and gymnastics. under music is included reading, writing, playing on the lyre, arithmetic, geometry, and a knowledge of astronomy sufficient to preserve the minds of the citizens from impiety in after-life. gymnastics are to be practised chiefly with a view to their use in war. the discussion of education, which was lightly touched upon in book ii, is here completed. the eighth book contains regulations for civil life, beginning with festivals, games, and contests, military exercises and the like. on such occasions plato seems to see young men and maidens meeting together, and hence he is led into discussing the relations of the sexes, the evil consequences which arise out of the indulgence of the passions, and the remedies for them. then he proceeds to speak of agriculture, of arts and trades, of buying and selling, and of foreign commerce. the remaining books of the laws, ix-xii, are chiefly concerned with criminal offences. in the first class are placed offences against the gods, especially sacrilege or robbery of temples: next follow offences against the state,--conspiracy, treason, theft. the mention of thefts suggests a distinction between voluntary and involuntary, curable and incurable offences. proceeding to the greater crime of homicide, plato distinguishes between mere homicide, manslaughter, which is partly voluntary and partly involuntary, and murder, which arises from avarice, ambition, fear. he also enumerates murders by kindred, murders by slaves, wounds with or without intent to kill, wounds inflicted in anger, crimes of or against slaves, insults to parents. to these, various modes of purification or degrees of punishment are assigned, and the terrors of another world are also invoked against them. at the beginning of book x, all acts of violence, including sacrilege, are summed up in a single law. the law is preceded by an admonition, in which the offenders are informed that no one ever did an unholy act or said an unlawful word while he retained his belief in the existence of the gods; but either he denied their existence, or he believed that they took no care of man, or that they might be turned from their course by sacrifices and prayers. the remainder of the book is devoted to the refutation of these three classes of unbelievers, and concludes with the means to be taken for their reformation, and the announcement of their punishments if they continue obstinate and impenitent. the eleventh book is taken up with laws and with admonitions relating to individuals, which follow one another without any exact order. there are laws concerning deposits and the finding of treasure; concerning slaves and freedmen; concerning retail trade, bequests, divorces, enchantments, poisonings, magical arts, and the like. in the twelfth book the same subjects are continued. laws are passed concerning violations of military discipline, concerning the high office of the examiners and their burial; concerning oaths and the violation of them, and the punishments of those who neglect their duties as citizens. foreign travel is then discussed, and the permission to be accorded to citizens of journeying in foreign parts; the strangers who may come to visit the city are also spoken of, and the manner in which they are to be received. laws are added respecting sureties, searches for property, right of possession by prescription, abduction of witnesses, theatrical competition, waging of private warfare, and bribery in offices. rules are laid down respecting taxation, respecting economy in sacred rites, respecting judges, their duties and sentences, and respecting sepulchral places and ceremonies. here the laws end. lastly, a nocturnal council is instituted for the preservation of the state, consisting of older and younger members, who are to exhibit in their lives that virtue which is the basis of the state, to know the one in many, and to be educated in divine and every other kind of knowledge which will enable them to fulfil their office. iii. the style of the laws differs in several important respects from that of the other dialogues of plato: ( ) in the want of character, power, and lively illustration; ( ) in the frequency of mannerisms (compare introduction to the philebus); ( ) in the form and rhythm of the sentences; ( ) in the use of words. on the other hand, there are many passages ( ) which are characterized by a sort of ethical grandeur; and ( ) in which, perhaps, a greater insight into human nature, and a greater reach of practical wisdom is shown, than in any other of plato's writings. . the discourse of the three old men is described by themselves as an old man's game of play. yet there is little of the liveliness of a game in their mode of treating the subject. they do not throw the ball to and fro, but two out of the three are listeners to the third, who is constantly asserting his superior wisdom and opportunities of knowledge, and apologizing (not without reason) for his own want of clearness of speech. he will 'carry them over the stream;' he will answer for them when the argument is beyond their comprehension; he is afraid of their ignorance of mathematics, and thinks that gymnastic is likely to be more intelligible to them;--he has repeated his words several times, and yet they cannot understand him. the subject did not properly take the form of dialogue, and also the literary vigour of plato had passed away. the old men speak as they might be expected to speak, and in this there is a touch of dramatic truth. plato has given the laws that form or want of form which indicates the failure of natural power. there is no regular plan--none of that consciousness of what has preceded and what is to follow, which makes a perfect style,--but there are several attempts at a plan; the argument is 'pulled up,' and frequent explanations are offered why a particular topic was introduced. the fictions of the laws have no longer the verisimilitude which is characteristic of the phaedrus and the timaeus, or even of the statesman. we can hardly suppose that an educated athenian would have placed the visit of epimenides to athens ten years before the persian war, or have imagined that a war with messene prevented the lacedaemonians from coming to the rescue of hellas. the narrative of the origin of the dorian institutions, which are said to have been due to a fear of the growing power of the assyrians, is a plausible invention, which may be compared with the tale of the island of atlantis and the poem of solon, but is not accredited by similar arts of deception. the other statement that the dorians were achaean exiles assembled by dorieus, and the assertion that troy was included in the assyrian empire, have some foundation (compare for the latter point, diod. sicul.). nor is there anywhere in the laws that lively enargeia, that vivid mise en scene, which is as characteristic of plato as of some modern novelists. the old men are afraid of the ridicule which 'will fall on their heads more than enough,' and they do not often indulge in a joke. in one of the few which occur, the book of the laws, if left incomplete, is compared to a monster wandering about without a head. but we no longer breathe the atmosphere of humour which pervades the symposium and the euthydemus, in which we pass within a few sentences from the broadest aristophanic joke to the subtlest refinement of wit and fancy; instead of this, in the laws an impression of baldness and feebleness is often left upon our minds. some of the most amusing descriptions, as, for example, of children roaring for the first three years of life; or of the athenians walking into the country with fighting-cocks under their arms; or of the slave doctor who knocks about his patients finely; and the gentleman doctor who courteously persuades them; or of the way of keeping order in the theatre, 'by a hint from a stick,' are narrated with a commonplace gravity; but where we find this sort of dry humour we shall not be far wrong in thinking that the writer intended to make us laugh. the seriousness of age takes the place of the jollity of youth. life should have holidays and festivals; yet we rebuke ourselves when we laugh, and take our pleasures sadly. the irony of the earlier dialogues, of which some traces occur in the tenth book, is replaced by a severity which hardly condescends to regard human things. 'let us say, if you please, that man is of some account, but i was speaking of him in comparison with god.' the imagery and illustrations are poor in themselves, and are not assisted by the surrounding phraseology. we have seen how in the republic, and in the earlier dialogues, figures of speech such as 'the wave,' 'the drone,' 'the chase,' 'the bride,' appear and reappear at intervals. notes are struck which are repeated from time to time, as in a strain of music. there is none of this subtle art in the laws. the illustrations, such as the two kinds of doctors, 'the three kinds of funerals,' the fear potion, the puppet, the painter leaving a successor to restore his picture, the 'person stopping to consider where three ways meet,' the 'old laws about water of which he will not divert the course,' can hardly be said to do much credit to plato's invention. the citations from the poets have lost that fanciful character which gave them their charm in the earlier dialogues. we are tired of images taken from the arts of navigation, or archery, or weaving, or painting, or medicine, or music. yet the comparisons of life to a tragedy, or of the working of mind to the revolution of the self-moved, or of the aged parent to the image of a god dwelling in the house, or the reflection that 'man is made to be the plaything of god, and that this rightly considered is the best of him,' have great beauty. . the clumsiness of the style is exhibited in frequent mannerisms and repetitions. the perfection of the platonic dialogue consists in the accuracy with which the question and answer are fitted into one another, and the regularity with which the steps of the argument succeed one another. this finish of style is no longer discernible in the laws. there is a want of variety in the answers; nothing can be drawn out of the respondents but 'yes' or 'no,' 'true,' 'to be sure,' etc.; the insipid forms, 'what do you mean?' 'to what are you referring?' are constantly returning. again and again the speaker is charged, or charges himself, with obscurity; and he repeats again and again that he will explain his views more clearly. the process of thought which should be latent in the mind of the writer appears on the surface. in several passages the athenian praises himself in the most unblushing manner, very unlike the irony of the earlier dialogues, as when he declares that 'the laws are a divine work given by some inspiration of the gods,' and that 'youth should commit them to memory instead of the compositions of the poets.' the prosopopoeia which is adopted by plato in the protagoras and other dialogues is repeated until we grow weary of it. the legislator is always addressing the speakers or the youth of the state, and the speakers are constantly making addresses to the legislator. a tendency to a paradoxical manner of statement is also observable. 'we must have drinking,' 'we must have a virtuous tyrant'--this is too much for the duller wits of the lacedaemonian and cretan, who at first start back in surprise. more than in any other writing of plato the tone is hortatory; the laws are sermons as well as laws; they are considered to have a religious sanction, and to rest upon a religious sentiment in the mind of the citizens. the words of the athenian are attributed to the lacedaemonian and cretan, who are supposed to have made them their own, after the manner of the earlier dialogues. resumptions of subjects which have been half disposed of in a previous passage constantly occur: the arrangement has neither the clearness of art nor the freedom of nature. irrelevant remarks are made here and there, or illustrations used which are not properly fitted in. the dialogue is generally weak and laboured, and is in the later books fairly given up, apparently, because unsuited to the subject of the work. the long speeches or sermons of the athenian, often extending over several pages, have never the grace and harmony which are exhibited in the earlier dialogues. for plato is incapable of sustained composition; his genius is dramatic rather than oratorical; he can converse, but he cannot make a speech. even the timaeus, which is one of his most finished works, is full of abrupt transitions. there is the same kind of difference between the dialogue and the continuous discourse of plato as between the narrative and speeches of thucydides. . the perfection of style is variety in unity, freedom, ease, clearness, the power of saying anything, and of striking any note in the scale of human feelings without impropriety; and such is the divine gift of language possessed by plato in the symposium and phaedrus. from this there are many fallings-off in the laws: first, in the structure of the sentences, which are rhythmical and monotonous,--the formal and sophistical manner of the age is superseding the natural genius of plato: secondly, many of them are of enormous length, and the latter end often forgets the beginning of them,--they seem never to have received the second thoughts of the author; either the emphasis is wrongly placed, or there is a want of point in a clause; or an absolute case occurs which is not properly separated from the rest of the sentence; or words are aggregated in a manner which fails to show their relation to one another; or the connecting particles are omitted at the beginning of sentences; the uses of the relative and antecedent are more indistinct, the changes of person and number more frequent, examples of pleonasm, tautology, and periphrasis, antitheses of positive and negative, false emphasis, and other affectations, are more numerous than in the other writings of plato; there is also a more common and sometimes unmeaning use of qualifying formulae, os epos eipein, kata dunamin, and of double expressions, pante pantos, oudame oudamos, opos kai ope--these are too numerous to be attributed to errors in the text; again, there is an over-curious adjustment of verb and participle, noun and epithet, and other artificial forms of cadence and expression take the place of natural variety: thirdly, the absence of metaphorical language is remarkable--the style is not devoid of ornament, but the ornament is of a debased rhetorical kind, patched on to instead of growing out of the subject; there is a great command of words, and a laboured use of them; forced attempts at metaphor occur in several passages,--e.g. parocheteuein logois; ta men os tithemena ta d os paratithemena; oinos kolazomenos upo nephontos eterou theou; the plays on the word nomos = nou dianome, ode etara: fourthly, there is a foolish extravagance of language in other passages,--'the swinish ignorance of arithmetic;' 'the justice and suitableness of the discourse on laws;' over-emphasis; 'best of greeks,' said of all the greeks, and the like: fifthly, poor and insipid illustrations are also common: sixthly, we may observe an excessive use of climax and hyperbole, aischron legein chre pros autous doulon te kai doulen kai paida kai ei pos oion te olen ten oikian: dokei touto to epitedeuma kata phusin tas peri ta aphrodisia edonas ou monon anthropon alla kai therion diephtharkenai. . the peculiarities in the use of words which occur in the laws have been collected by zeller (platonische studien) and stallbaum (legg.): first, in the use of nouns, such as allodemia, apeniautesis, glukuthumia, diatheter, thrasuxenia, koros, megalonoia, paidourgia: secondly, in the use of adjectives, such as aistor, biodotes, echthodopos, eitheos, chronios, and of adverbs, such as aniditi, anatei, nepoivei: thirdly, in the use of verbs, such as athurein, aissein (aixeien eipein), euthemoneisthai, parapodizesthai, sebein, temelein, tetan. these words however, as stallbaum remarks, are formed according to analogy, and nearly all of them have the support of some poetical or other authority. zeller and stallbaum have also collected forms of words in the laws, differing from the forms of the same words which occur in other places: e.g. blabos for blabe, abios for abiotos, acharistos for acharis, douleios for doulikos, paidelos for paidikos, exagrio for exagriaino, ileoumai for ilaskomai, and the ionic word sophronistus, meaning 'correction.' zeller has noted a fondness for substantives ending in -ma and -sis, such as georgema, diapauma, epithumema, zemioma, komodema, omilema; blapsis, loidoresis, paraggelsis, and others; also a use of substantives in the plural, which are commonly found only in the singular, maniai, atheotetes, phthonoi, phoboi, phuseis; also, a peculiar use of prepositions in composition, as in eneirgo, apoblapto, dianomotheteo, dieiretai, dieulabeisthai, and other words; also, a frequent occurrence of the ionic datives plural in -aisi and -oisi, perhaps used for the sake of giving an ancient or archaic effect. to these peculiarities of words he has added a list of peculiar expressions and constructions. among the most characteristic are the following: athuta pallakon spermata; amorphoi edrai; osa axiomata pros archontas; oi kata polin kairoi; muthos, used in several places of 'the discourse about laws;' and connected with this the frequent use of paramuthion and paramutheisthai in the general sense of 'address,' 'addressing'; aimulos eros; ataphoi praxeis; muthos akephalos; ethos euthuporon. he remarks also on the frequent employment of the abstract for the concrete; e.g. uperesia for uperetai, phugai for phugades, mechanai in the sense of 'contrivers,' douleia for douloi, basileiai for basileis, mainomena kedeumata for ganaika mainomenen; e chreia ton paidon in the sense of 'indigent children,' and paidon ikanotes; to ethos tes apeirias for e eiothuia apeiria; kuparitton upse te kai kalle thaumasia for kuparittoi mala upselai kai kalai. he further notes some curious uses of the genitive case, e.g. philias omologiai, maniai orges, laimargiai edones, cheimonon anupodesiai, anosioi plegon tolmai; and of the dative, omiliai echthrois, nomothesiai, anosioi plegon tolmai; and of the dative omiliai echthrois, nomothesiai epitropois; and also some rather uncommon periphrases, thremmata neilou, xuggennetor teknon for alochos, mouses lexis for poiesis, zographon paides, anthropon spermata and the like; the fondness for particles of limitation, especially tis and ge, sun tisi charisi, tois ge dunamenois and the like; the pleonastic use of tanun, of os, of os eros eipein, of ekastote; and the periphrastic use of the preposition peri. lastly, he observes the tendency to hyperbata or transpositions of words, and to rhythmical uniformity as well as grammatical irregularity in the structure of the sentences. for nearly all the expressions which are adduced by zeller as arguments against the genuineness of the laws, stallbaum finds some sort of authority. there is no real ground for doubting that the work was written by plato, merely because several words occur in it which are not found in his other writings. an imitator may preserve the usual phraseology of a writer better than he would himself. but, on the other hand, the fact that authorities may be quoted in support of most of these uses of words, does not show that the diction is not peculiar. several of them seem to be poetical or dialectical, and exhibit an attempt to enlarge the limits of greek prose by the introduction of homeric and tragic expressions. most of them do not appear to have retained any hold on the later language of greece. like several experiments in language of the writers of the elizabethan age, they were afterwards lost; and though occasionally found in plutarch and imitators of plato, they have not been accepted by aristotle or passed into the common dialect of greece. . unequal as the laws are in style, they contain a few passages which are very grand and noble. for example, the address to the poets: 'best of strangers, we also are poets of the best and noblest tragedy; for our whole state is an imitation of the best and noblest life, which we affirm to be indeed the very truth of tragedy.' or again, the sight of young men and maidens in friendly intercourse with one another, suggesting the dangers to which youth is liable from the violence of passion; or the eloquent denunciation of unnatural lusts in the same passage; or the charming thought that the best legislator 'orders war for the sake of peace and not peace for the sake of war;' or the pleasant allusion, 'o athenian--inhabitant of attica, i will not say, for you seem to me worthy to be named after the goddess athene because you go back to first principles;' or the pithy saying, 'many a victory has been and will be suicidal to the victors, but education is never suicidal;' or the fine expression that 'the walls of a city should be allowed to sleep in the earth, and that we should not attempt to disinter them;' or the remark that 'god is the measure of all things in a sense far higher than any man can be;' or that 'a man should be from the first a partaker of the truth, that he may live a true man as long as possible;' or the principle repeatedly laid down, that 'the sins of the fathers are not to be visited on the children;' or the description of the funeral rites of those priestly sages who depart in innocence; or the noble sentiment, that we should do more justice to slaves than to equals; or the curious observation, founded, perhaps, on his own experience, that there are a few 'divine men in every state however corrupt, whose conversation is of inestimable value;' or the acute remark, that public opinion is to be respected, because the judgments of mankind about virtue are better than their practice; or the deep religious and also modern feeling which pervades the tenth book (whatever may be thought of the arguments); the sense of the duty of living as a part of a whole, and in dependence on the will of god, who takes care of the least things as well as the greatest; and the picture of parents praying for their children--not as we may say, slightly altering the words of plato, as if there were no truth or reality in the gentile religions, but as if there were the greatest--are very striking to us. we must remember that the laws, unlike the republic, do not exhibit an ideal state, but are supposed to be on the level of human motives and feelings; they are also on the level of the popular religion, though elevated and purified: hence there is an attempt made to show that the pleasant is also just. but, on the other hand, the priority of the soul to the body, and of god to the soul, is always insisted upon as the true incentive to virtue; especially with great force and eloquence at the commencement of book v. and the work of legislation is carried back to the first principles of morals. . no other writing of plato shows so profound an insight into the world and into human nature as the laws. that 'cities will never cease from ill until they are better governed,' is the text of the laws as well as of the statesman and republic. the principle that the balance of power preserves states; the reflection that no one ever passed his whole life in disbelief of the gods; the remark that the characters of men are best seen in convivial intercourse; the observation that the people must be allowed to share not only in the government, but in the administration of justice; the desire to make laws, not with a view to courage only, but to all virtue; the clear perception that education begins with birth, or even, as he would say, before birth; the attempt to purify religion; the modern reflections, that punishment is not vindictive, and that limits must be set to the power of bequest; the impossibility of undeceiving the victims of quacks and jugglers; the provision for water, and for other requirements of health, and for concealing the bodies of the dead with as little hurt as possible to the living; above all, perhaps, the distinct consciousness that under the actual circumstances of mankind the ideal cannot be carried out, and yet may be a guiding principle--will appear to us, if we remember that we are still in the dawn of politics, to show a great depth of political wisdom. iv. the laws of plato contain numerous passages which closely resemble other passages in his writings. and at first sight a suspicion arises that the repetition shows the unequal hand of the imitator. for why should a writer say over again, in a more imperfect form, what he had already said in his most finished style and manner? and yet it may be urged on the other side that an author whose original powers are beginning to decay will be very liable to repeat himself, as in conversation, so in books. he may have forgotten what he had written before; he may be unconscious of the decline of his own powers. hence arises a question of great interest, bearing on the genuineness of ancient writers. is there any criterion by which we can distinguish the genuine resemblance from the spurious, or, in other words, the repetition of a thought or passage by an author himself from the appropriation of it by another? the question has, perhaps, never been fully discussed; and, though a real one, does not admit of a precise answer. a few general considerations on the subject may be offered:-- (a) is the difference such as might be expected to arise at different times of life or under different circumstances?--there would be nothing surprising in a writer, as he grew older, losing something of his own originality, and falling more and more under the spirit of his age. 'what a genius i had when i wrote that book!' was the pathetic exclamation of a famous english author, when in old age he chanced to take up one of his early works. there would be nothing surprising again in his losing somewhat of his powers of expression, and becoming less capable of framing language into a harmonious whole. there would also be a strong presumption that if the variation of style was uniform, it was attributable to some natural cause, and not to the arts of the imitator. the inferiority might be the result of feebleness and of want of activity of mind. but the natural weakness of a great author would commonly be different from the artificial weakness of an imitator; it would be continuous and uniform. the latter would be apt to fill his work with irregular patches, sometimes taken verbally from the writings of the author whom he personated, but rarely acquiring his spirit. his imitation would be obvious, irregular, superficial. the patches of purple would be easily detected among his threadbare and tattered garments. he would rarely take the pains to put the same thought into other words. there were many forgeries in english literature which attained a considerable degree of success or years ago; but it is doubtful whether attempts such as these could now escape detection, if there were any writings of the same author or of the same age to be compared with them. and ancient forgers were much less skilful than modern; they were far from being masters in the art of deception, and had rarely any motive for being so. (b) but, secondly, the imitator will commonly be least capable of understanding or imitating that part of a great writer which is most characteristic of him. in every man's writings there is something like himself and unlike others, which gives individuality. to appreciate this latent quality would require a kindred mind, and minute study and observation. there are a class of similarities which may be called undesigned coincidences, which are so remote as to be incapable of being borrowed from one another, and yet, when they are compared, find a natural explanation in their being the work of the same mind. the imitator might copy the turns of style--he might repeat images or illustrations, but he could not enter into the inner circle of platonic philosophy. he would understand that part of it which became popular in the next generation, as for example, the doctrine of ideas or of numbers: he might approve of communism. but the higher flights of plato about the science of dialectic, or the unity of virtue, or a person who is above the law, would be unintelligible to him. (c) the argument from imitation assumes a different character when the supposed imitations are associated with other passages having the impress of original genius. the strength of the argument from undesigned coincidences of style is much increased when they are found side by side with thoughts and expressions which can only have come from a great original writer. the great excellence, not only of the whole, but even of the parts of writings, is a strong proof of their genuineness--for although the great writer may fall below, the forger or imitator cannot rise much above himself. whether we can attribute the worst parts of a work to a forger and the best to a great writer,--as for example, in the case of some of shakespeare's plays,--depends upon the probability that they have been interpolated, or have been the joint work of two writers; and this can only be established either by express evidence or by a comparison of other writings of the same class. if the interpolation or double authorship of greek writings in the time of plato could be shown to be common, then a question, perhaps insoluble, would arise, not whether the whole, but whether parts of the platonic dialogues are genuine, and, if parts only, which parts. hebrew prophecies and homeric poems and laws of manu may have grown together in early times, but there is no reason to think that any of the dialogues of plato is the result of a similar process of accumulation. it is therefore rash to say with oncken (die staatslehre des aristoteles) that the form in which aristotle knew the laws of plato must have been different from that in which they have come down to us. it must be admitted that these principles are difficult of application. yet a criticism may be worth making which rests only on probabilities or impressions. great disputes will arise about the merits of different passages, about what is truly characteristic and original or trivial and borrowed. many have thought the laws to be one of the greatest of platonic writings, while in the judgment of mr. grote they hardly rise above the level of the forged epistles. the manner in which a writer would or would not have written at a particular time of life must be acknowledged to be a matter of conjecture. but enough has been said to show that similarities of a certain kind, whether criticism is able to detect them or not, may be such as must be attributed to an original writer, and not to a mere imitator. (d) applying these principles to the case of the laws, we have now to point out that they contain the class of refined or unconscious similarities which are indicative of genuineness. the parallelisms are like the repetitions of favourite thoughts into which every one is apt to fall unawares in conversation or in writing. they are found in a work which contains many beautiful and remarkable passages. we may therefore begin by claiming this presumption in their favour. such undesigned coincidences, as we may venture to call them, are the following. the conception of justice as the union of temperance, wisdom, courage (laws; republic): the latent idea of dialectic implied in the notion of dividing laws after the kinds of virtue (laws); the approval of the method of looking at one idea gathered from many things, 'than which a truer was never discovered by any man' (compare republic): or again the description of the laws as parents (laws; republic): the assumption that religion has been already settled by the oracle of delphi (laws; republic), to which an appeal is also made in special cases (laws): the notion of the battle with self, a paradox for which plato in a manner apologizes both in the laws and the republic: the remark (laws) that just men, even when they are deformed in body, may still be perfectly beautiful in respect of the excellent justice of their minds (compare republic): the argument that ideals are none the worse because they cannot be carried out (laws; republic): the near approach to the idea of good in 'the principle which is common to all the four virtues,' a truth which the guardians must be compelled to recognize (laws; compare republic): or again the recognition by reason of the right pleasure and pain, which had previously been matter of habit (laws; republic): or the blasphemy of saying that the excellency of music is to give pleasure (laws; republic): again the story of the sidonian cadmus (laws), which is a variation of the phoenician tale of the earth-born men (republic): the comparison of philosophy to a yelping she-dog, both in the republic and in the laws: the remark that no man can practise two trades (laws; republic): or the advantage of the middle condition (laws; republic): the tendency to speak of principles as moulds or forms; compare the ekmageia of song (laws), and the tupoi of religion (republic): or the remark (laws) that 'the relaxation of justice makes many cities out of one,' which may be compared with the republic: or the description of lawlessness 'creeping in little by little in the fashions of music and overturning all things,'--to us a paradox, but to plato's mind a fixed idea, which is found in the laws as well as in the republic: or the figure of the parts of the human body under which the parts of the state are described (laws; republic): the apology for delay and diffuseness, which occurs not unfrequently in the republic, is carried to an excess in the laws (compare theaet.): the remarkable thought (laws) that the soul of the sun is better than the sun, agrees with the relation in which the idea of good stands to the sun in the republic, and with the substitution of mind for the idea of good in the philebus: the passage about the tragic poets (laws) agrees generally with the treatment of them in the republic, but is more finely conceived, and worked out in a nobler spirit. some lesser similarities of thought and manner should not be omitted, such as the mention of the thirty years' old students in the republic, and the fifty years' old choristers in the laws; or the making of the citizens out of wax (laws) compared with the other image (republic); or the number of the tyrant ( ), which is nearly equal with the number of days and nights in the year ( ), compared with the 'slight correction' of the sacred number , which is divisible by all the numbers from to except , and divisible by , if two families be deducted; or once more, we may compare the ignorance of solid geometry of which he complains in the republic and the puzzle about fractions with the difficulty in the laws about commensurable and incommensurable quantities--and the malicious emphasis on the word gunaikeios (laws) with the use of the same word (republic). these and similar passages tend to show that the author of the republic is also the author of the laws. they are echoes of the same voice, expressions of the same mind, coincidences too subtle to have been invented by the ingenuity of any imitator. the force of the argument is increased, if we remember that no passage in the laws is exactly copied,--nowhere do five or six words occur together which are found together elsewhere in plato's writings. in other dialogues of plato, as well as in the republic, there are to be found parallels with the laws. such resemblances, as we might expect, occur chiefly (but not exclusively) in the dialogues which, on other grounds, we may suppose to be of later date. the punishment of evil is to be like evil men (laws), as he says also in the theaetetus. compare again the dependence of tragedy and comedy on one another, of which he gives the reason in the laws--'for serious things cannot be understood without laughable, nor opposites at all without opposites, if a man is really to have intelligence of either'; here he puts forward the principle which is the groundwork of the thesis of socrates in the symposium, 'that the genius of tragedy is the same as that of comedy, and that the writer of comedy ought to be a writer of tragedy also.' there is a truth and right which is above law (laws), as we learn also from the statesman. that men are the possession of the gods (laws), is a reflection which likewise occurs in the phaedo. the remark, whether serious or ironical (laws), that 'the sons of the gods naturally believed in the gods, because they had the means of knowing about them,' is found in the timaeus. the reign of cronos, who is the divine ruler (laws), is a reminiscence of the statesman. it is remarkable that in the sophist and statesman (soph.), plato, speaking in the character of the eleatic stranger, has already put on the old man. the madness of the poets, again, is a favourite notion of plato's, which occurs also in the laws, as well as in the phaedrus, ion, and elsewhere. there are traces in the laws of the same desire to base speculation upon history which we find in the critias. once more, there is a striking parallel with the paradox of the gorgias, that 'if you do evil, it is better to be punished than to be unpunished,' in the laws: 'to live having all goods without justice and virtue is the greatest of evils if life be immortal, but not so great if the bad man lives but a short time.' the point to be considered is whether these are the kind of parallels which would be the work of an imitator. would a forger have had the wit to select the most peculiar and characteristic thoughts of plato; would he have caught the spirit of his philosophy; would he, instead of openly borrowing, have half concealed his favourite ideas; would he have formed them into a whole such as the laws; would he have given another the credit which he might have obtained for himself; would he have remembered and made use of other passages of the platonic writings and have never deviated into the phraseology of them? without pressing such arguments as absolutely certain, we must acknowledge that such a comparison affords a new ground of real weight for believing the laws to be a genuine writing of plato. v. the relation of the republic to the laws is clearly set forth by plato in the laws. the republic is the best state, the laws is the best possible under the existing conditions of the greek world. the republic is the ideal, in which no man calls anything his own, which may or may not have existed in some remote clime, under the rule of some god, or son of a god (who can say?), but is, at any rate, the pattern of all other states and the exemplar of human life. the laws distinctly acknowledge what the republic partly admits, that the ideal is inimitable by us, but that we should 'lift up our eyes to the heavens' and try to regulate our lives according to the divine image. the citizens are no longer to have wives and children in common, and are no longer to be under the government of philosophers. but the spirit of communism or communion is to continue among them, though reverence for the sacredness of the family, and respect of children for parents, not promiscuous hymeneals, are now the foundation of the state; the sexes are to be as nearly on an equality as possible; they are to meet at common tables, and to share warlike pursuits (if the women will consent), and to have a common education. the legislator has taken the place of the philosopher, but a council of elders is retained, who are to fulfil the duties of the legislator when he has passed out of life. the addition of younger persons to this council by co-optation is an improvement on the governing body of the republic. the scheme of education in the laws is of a far lower kind than that which plato had conceived in the republic. there he would have his rulers trained in all knowledge meeting in the idea of good, of which the different branches of mathematical science are but the hand-maidens or ministers; here he treats chiefly of popular education, stopping short with the preliminary sciences,--these are to be studied partly with a view to their practical usefulness, which in the republic he holds cheap, and even more with a view to avoiding impiety, of which in the republic he says nothing; he touches very lightly on dialectic, which is still to be retained for the rulers. yet in the laws there remain traces of the old educational ideas. he is still for banishing the poets; and as he finds the works of prose writers equally dangerous, he would substitute for them the study of his own laws. he insists strongly on the importance of mathematics as an educational instrument. he is no more reconciled to the greek mythology than in the republic, though he would rather say nothing about it out of a reverence for antiquity; and he is equally willing to have recourse to fictions, if they have a moral tendency. his thoughts recur to a golden age in which the sanctity of oaths was respected and in which men living nearer the gods were more disposed to believe in them; but we must legislate for the world as it is, now that the old beliefs have passed away. though he is no longer fired with dialectical enthusiasm, he would compel the guardians to 'look at one idea gathered from many things,' and to 'perceive the principle which is the same in all the four virtues.' he still recognizes the enormous influence of music, in which every youth is to be trained for three years; and he seems to attribute the existing degeneracy of the athenian state and the laxity of morals partly to musical innovation, manifested in the unnatural divorce of the instrument and the voice, of the rhythm from the words, and partly to the influence of the mob who ruled at the theatres. he assimilates the education of the two sexes, as far as possible, both in music and gymnastic, and, as in the republic, he would give to gymnastic a purely military character. in marriage, his object is still to produce the finest children for the state. as in the statesman, he would unite in wedlock dissimilar natures--the passionate with the dull, the courageous with the gentle. and the virtuous tyrant of the statesman, who has no place in the republic, again appears. in this, as in all his writings, he has the strongest sense of the degeneracy and incapacity of the rulers of his own time. in the laws, the philosophers, if not banished, like the poets, are at least ignored; and religion takes the place of philosophy in the regulation of human life. it must however be remembered that the religion of plato is co-extensive with morality, and is that purified religion and mythology of which he speaks in the second book of the republic. there is no real discrepancy in the two works. in a practical treatise, he speaks of religion rather than of philosophy; just as he appears to identify virtue with pleasure, and rather seeks to find the common element of the virtues than to maintain his old paradoxical theses that they are one, or that they are identical with knowledge. the dialectic and the idea of good, which even glaucon in the republic could not understand, would be out of place in a less ideal work. there may also be a change in his own mind, the purely intellectual aspect of philosophy having a diminishing interest to him in his old age. some confusion occurs in the passage in which plato speaks of the republic, occasioned by his reference to a third state, which he proposes (d.v.) hereafter to expound. like many other thoughts in the laws, the allusion is obscure from not being worked out. aristotle (polit.) speaks of a state which is neither the best absolutely, nor the best under existing conditions, but an imaginary state, inferior to either, destitute, as he supposes, of the necessaries of life--apparently such a beginning of primitive society as is described in laws iii. but it is not clear that by this the third state of plato is intended. it is possible that plato may have meant by his third state an historical sketch, bearing the same relation to the laws which the unfinished critias would have borne to the republic; or he may, perhaps, have intended to describe a state more nearly approximating than the laws to existing greek states. the statesman is a mere fragment when compared with the laws, yet combining a second interest of dialectic as well as politics, which is wanting in the larger work. several points of similarity and contrast may be observed between them. in some respects the statesman is even more ideal than the republic, looking back to a former state of paradisiacal life, in which the gods ruled over mankind, as the republic looks forward to a coming kingdom of philosophers. of this kingdom of cronos there is also mention in the laws. again, in the statesman, the eleatic stranger rises above law to the conception of the living voice of the lawgiver, who is able to provide for individual cases. a similar thought is repeated in the laws: 'if in the order of nature, and by divine destiny, a man were able to apprehend the truth about these things, he would have no need of laws to rule over him; for there is no law or order above knowledge, nor can mind without impiety be deemed the subject or slave of any, but rather the lord of all.' the union of opposite natures, who form the warp and the woof of the political web, is a favourite thought which occurs in both dialogues (laws; statesman). the laws are confessedly a second-best, an inferior ideal, to which plato has recourse, when he finds that the city of philosophers is no longer 'within the horizon of practical politics.' but it is curious to observe that the higher ideal is always returning (compare arist. polit.), and that he is not much nearer the actual fact, nor more on the level of ordinary life in the laws than in the republic. it is also interesting to remark that the new ideal is always falling away, and that he hardly supposes the one to be more capable of being realized than the other. human beings are troublesome to manage; and the legislator cannot adapt his enactments to the infinite variety of circumstances; after all he must leave the administration of them to his successors; and though he would have liked to make them as permanent as they are in egypt, he cannot escape from the necessity of change. at length plato is obliged to institute a nocturnal council which is supposed to retain the mind of the legislator, and of which some of the members are even supposed to go abroad and inspect the institutions of foreign countries, as a foundation for changes in their own. the spirit of such changes, though avoiding the extravagance of a popular assembly, being only so much change as the conservative temper of old members is likely to allow, is nevertheless inconsistent with the fixedness of egypt which plato wishes to impress upon hellenic institutions. he is inconsistent with himself as the truth begins to dawn upon him that 'in the execution things for the most part fall short of our conception of them' (republic). and is not this true of ideals of government in general? we are always disappointed in them. nothing great can be accomplished in the short space of human life; wherefore also we look forward to another (republic). as we grow old, we are sensible that we have no power actively to pursue our ideals any longer. we have had our opportunity and do not aspire to be more than men: we have received our 'wages and are going home.' neither do we despair of the future of mankind, because we have been able to do so little in comparison of the whole. we look in vain for consistency either in men or things. but we have seen enough of improvement in our own time to justify us in the belief that the world is worth working for and that a good man's life is not thrown away. such reflections may help us to bring home to ourselves by inward sympathy the language of plato in the laws, and to combine into something like a whole his various and at first sight inconsistent utterances. vi. the republic may be described as the spartan constitution appended to a government of philosophers. but in the laws an athenian element is also introduced. many enactments are taken from the athenian; the four classes are borrowed from the constitution of cleisthenes, which plato regards as the best form of athenian government, and the guardians of the law bear a certain resemblance to the archons. in the constitution of the laws nearly all officers are elected by a vote more or less popular and by lot. but the assembly only exists for the purposes of election, and has no legislative or executive powers. the nocturnal council, which is the highest body in the state, has several of the functions of the ancient athenian areopagus, after which it appears to be modelled. life is to wear, as at athens, a joyous and festive look; there are to be bacchic choruses, and men of mature age are encouraged in moderate potations. on the other hand, the common meals, the public education, the crypteia are borrowed from sparta and not from athens, and the superintendence of private life, which was to be practised by the governors, has also its prototype in sparta. the extravagant dislike which plato shows both to a naval power and to extreme democracy is the reverse of athenian. the best-governed hellenic states traced the origin of their laws to individual lawgivers. these were real persons, though we are uncertain how far they originated or only modified the institutions which are ascribed to them. but the lawgiver, though not a myth, was a fixed idea in the mind of the greek,--as fixed as the trojan war or the earth-born cadmus. 'this was what solon meant or said'--was the form in which the athenian expressed his own conception of right and justice, or argued a disputed point of law. and the constant reference in the laws of plato to the lawgiver is altogether in accordance with greek modes of thinking and speaking. there is also, as in the republic, a pythagorean element. the highest branch of education is arithmetic; to know the order of the heavenly bodies, and to reconcile the apparent contradiction of their movements, is an important part of religion; the lives of the citizens are to have a common measure, as also their vessels and coins; the great blessing of the state is the number . plato is deeply impressed by the antiquity of egypt, and the unchangeableness of her ancient forms of song and dance. and he is also struck by the progress which the egyptians had made in the mathematical sciences--in comparison of them the greeks appeared to him to be little better than swine. yet he censures the egyptian meanness and inhospitality to strangers. he has traced the growth of states from their rude beginnings in a philosophical spirit; but of any life or growth of the hellenic world in future ages he is silent. he has made the reflection that past time is the maker of states (book iii.); but he does not argue from the past to the future, that the process is always going on, or that the institutions of nations are relative to their stage of civilization. if he could have stamped indelibly upon hellenic states the will of the legislator, he would have been satisfied. the utmost which he expects of future generations is that they should supply the omissions, or correct the errors which younger statesmen detect in his enactments. when institutions have been once subjected to this process of criticism, he would have them fixed for ever. the preamble. book i. strangers, let me ask a question of you--was a god or a man the author of your laws? 'a god, stranger. in crete, zeus is said to have been the author of them; in sparta, as megillus will tell you, apollo.' you cretans believe, as homer says, that minos went every ninth year to converse with his olympian sire, and gave you laws which he brought from him. 'yes; and there was rhadamanthus, his brother, who is reputed among us to have been a most righteous judge.' that is a reputation worthy of the son of zeus. and as you and megillus have been trained under these laws, i may ask you to give me an account of them. we can talk about them in our walk from cnosus to the cave and temple of zeus. i am told that the distance is considerable, but probably there are shady places under the trees, where, being no longer young, we may often rest and converse. 'yes, stranger, a little onward there are beautiful groves of cypresses, and green meadows in which we may repose.' my first question is, why has the law ordained that you should have common meals, and practise gymnastics, and bear arms? 'my answer is, that all our institutions are of a military character. we lead the life of the camp even in time of peace, keeping up the organization of an army, and having meals in common; and as our country, owing to its ruggedness, is ill-suited for heavy-armed cavalry or infantry, our soldiers are archers, equipped with bows and arrows. the legislator was under the idea that war was the natural state of all mankind, and that peace is only a pretence; he thought that no possessions had any value which were not secured against enemies.' and do you think that superiority in war is the proper aim of government? 'certainly i do, and my spartan friend will agree with me.' and are there wars, not only of state against state, but of village against village, of family against family, of individual against individual? 'yes.' and is a man his own enemy? 'there you come to first principles, like a true votary of the goddess athene; and this is all the better, for you will the sooner recognize the truth of what i am saying--that all men everywhere are the enemies of all, and each individual of every other and of himself; and, further, that there is a victory and defeat--the best and the worst--which each man sustains, not at the hands of another, but of himself.' and does this extend to states and villages as well as to individuals? 'certainly; there is a better in them which conquers or is conquered by the worse.' whether the worse ever really conquers the better, is a question which may be left for the present; but your meaning is, that bad citizens do sometimes overcome the good, and that the state is then conquered by herself, and that when they are defeated the state is victorious over herself. or, again, in a family there may be several brothers, and the bad may be a majority; and when the bad majority conquer the good minority, the family are worse than themselves. the use of the terms 'better or worse than himself or themselves' may be doubtful, but about the thing meant there can be no dispute. 'very true.' such a struggle might be determined by a judge. and which will be the better judge--he who destroys the worse and lets the better rule, or he who lets the better rule and makes the others voluntarily obey; or, thirdly, he who destroys no one, but reconciles the two parties? 'the last, clearly.' but the object of such a judge or legislator would not be war. 'true.' and as there are two kinds of war, one without and one within a state, of which the internal is by far the worse, will not the legislator chiefly direct his attention to this latter? he will reconcile the contending factions, and unite them against their external enemies. 'certainly.' every legislator will aim at the greatest good, and the greatest good is not victory in war, whether civil or external, but mutual peace and good-will, as in the body health is preferable to the purgation of disease. he who makes war his object instead of peace, or who pursues war except for the sake of peace, is not a true statesman. 'and yet, stranger, the laws both of crete and sparta aim entirely at war.' perhaps so; but do not let us quarrel about your legislators--let us be gentle; they were in earnest quite as much as we are, and we must try to discover their meaning. the poet tyrtaeus (you know his poems in crete, and my lacedaemonian friend is only too familiar with them)--he was an athenian by birth, and a spartan citizen:--'well,' he says, 'i sing not, i care not about any man, however rich or happy, unless he is brave in war.' now i should like, in the name of us all, to ask the poet a question. oh tyrtaeus, i would say to him, we agree with you in praising those who excel in war, but which kind of war do you mean?--that dreadful war which is termed civil, or the milder sort which is waged against foreign enemies? you say that you abominate 'those who are not eager to taste their enemies' blood,' and you seem to mean chiefly their foreign enemies. 'certainly he does.' but we contend that there are men better far than your heroes, tyrtaeus, concerning whom another poet, theognis the sicilian, says that 'in a civil broil they are worth their weight in gold and silver.' for in a civil war, not only courage, but justice and temperance and wisdom are required, and all virtue is better than a part. the mercenary soldier is ready to die at his post; yet he is commonly a violent, senseless creature. and the legislator, whether inspired or uninspired, will make laws with a view to the highest virtue; and this is not brute courage, but loyalty in the hour of danger. the virtue of tyrtaeus, although needful enough in his own time, is really of a fourth-rate description. 'you are degrading our legislator to a very low level.' nay, we degrade not him, but ourselves, if we believe that the laws of lycurgus and minos had a view to war only. a divine lawgiver would have had regard to all the different kinds of virtue, and have arranged his laws in corresponding classes, and not in the modern fashion, which only makes them after the want of them is felt,--about inheritances and heiresses and assaults, and the like. as you truly said, virtue is the business of the legislator; but you went wrong when you referred all legislation to a part of virtue, and to an inferior part. for the object of laws, whether the cretan or any other, is to make men happy. now happiness or good is of two kinds--there are divine and there are human goods. he who has the divine has the human added to him; but he who has lost the greater is deprived of both. the lesser goods are health, beauty, strength, and, lastly, wealth; not the blind god, pluto, but one who has eyes to see and follow wisdom. for mind or wisdom is the most divine of all goods; and next comes temperance, and justice springs from the union of wisdom and temperance with courage, which is the fourth or last. these four precede other goods, and the legislator will arrange all his ordinances accordingly, the human going back to the divine, and the divine to their leader mind. there will be enactments about marriage, about education, about all the states and feelings and experiences of men and women, at every age, in weal and woe, in war and peace; upon all the law will fix a stamp of praise and blame. there will also be regulations about property and expenditure, about contracts, about rewards and punishments, and finally about funeral rites and honours of the dead. the lawgiver will appoint guardians to preside over these things; and mind will harmonize his ordinances, and show them to be in agreement with temperance and justice. now i want to know whether the same principles are observed in the laws of lycurgus and minos, or, as i should rather say, of apollo and zeus. we must go through the virtues, beginning with courage, and then we will show that what has preceded has relation to virtue. 'i wish,' says the lacedaemonian, 'that you, stranger, would first criticize cleinias and the cretan laws.' yes, is the reply, and i will criticize you and myself, as well as him. tell me, megillus, were not the common meals and gymnastic training instituted by your legislator with a view to war? 'yes; and next in the order of importance comes hunting, and fourth the endurance of pain in boxing contests, and in the beatings which are the punishment of theft. there is, too, the so-called crypteia or secret service, in which our youth wander about the country night and day unattended, and even in winter go unshod and have no beds to lie on. moreover they wrestle and exercise under a blazing sun, and they have many similar customs.' well, but is courage only a combat against fear and pain, and not against pleasure and flattery? 'against both, i should say.' and which is worse,--to be overcome by pain, or by pleasure? 'the latter.' but did the lawgivers of crete and sparta legislate for a courage which is lame of one leg,--able to meet the attacks of pain but not those of pleasure, or for one which can meet both? 'for a courage which can meet both, i should say.' but if so, where are the institutions which train your citizens to be equally brave against pleasure and pain, and superior to enemies within as well as without? 'we confess that we have no institutions worth mentioning which are of this character.' i am not surprised, and will therefore only request forbearance on the part of us all, in case the love of truth should lead any of us to censure the laws of the others. remember that i am more in the way of hearing criticisms of your laws than you can be; for in well-ordered states like crete and sparta, although an old man may sometimes speak of them in private to a ruler or elder, a similar liberty is not allowed to the young. but now being alone we shall not offend your legislator by a friendly examination of his laws. 'take any freedom which you like.' my first observation is, that your lawgiver ordered you to endure hardships, because he thought that those who had not this discipline would run away from those who had. but he ought to have considered further, that those who had never learned to resist pleasure would be equally at the mercy of those who had, and these are often among the worst of mankind. pleasure, like fear, would overcome them and take away their courage and freedom. 'perhaps; but i must not be hasty in giving my assent.' next as to temperance: what institutions have you which are adapted to promote temperance? 'there are the common meals and gymnastic exercises.' these are partly good and partly bad, and, as in medicine, what is good at one time and for one person, is bad at another time and for another person. now although gymnastics and common meals do good, they are also a cause of evil in civil troubles, and they appear to encourage unnatural love, as has been shown at miletus, in boeotia, and at thurii. and the cretans are said to have invented the tale of zeus and ganymede in order to justify their evil practices by the example of the god who was their lawgiver. leaving the story, we may observe that all law has to do with pleasure and pain; these are two fountains which are ever flowing in human nature, and he who drinks of them when and as much as he ought, is happy, and he who indulges in them to excess, is miserable. 'you may be right, but i still incline to think that the lacedaemonian lawgiver did well in forbidding pleasure, if i may judge from the result. for there is no drunken revelry in sparta, and any one found in a state of intoxication is severely punished; he is not excused as an athenian would be at athens on account of a festival. i myself have seen the athenians drunk at the dionysia--and at our colony, tarentum, on a similar occasion, i have beheld the whole city in a state of intoxication.' i admit that these festivals should be properly regulated. yet i might reply, 'yes, spartans, that is not your vice; but look at home and remember the licentiousness of your women.' and to all such accusations every one of us may reply in turn:--'wonder not, stranger; there are different customs in different countries.' now this may be a sufficient answer; but we are speaking about the wisdom of lawgivers and not about the customs of men. to return to the question of drinking: shall we have total abstinence, as you have, or hard drinking, like the scythians and thracians, or moderate potations like the persians? 'give us arms, and we send all these nations flying before us.' my good friend, be modest; victories and defeats often arise from unknown causes, and afford no proof of the goodness or badness of institutions. the stronger overcomes the weaker, as the athenians have overcome the ceans, or the syracusans the locrians, who are, perhaps, the best governed state in that part of the world. people are apt to praise or censure practices without enquiring into the nature of them. this is the way with drink: one person brings many witnesses, who sing the praises of wine; another declares that sober men defeat drunkards in battle; and he again is refuted in turn. i should like to conduct the argument on some other method; for if you regard numbers, there are two cities on one side, and ten thousand on the other. 'i am ready to pursue any method which is likely to lead us to the truth.' let me put the matter thus: somebody praises the useful qualities of a goat; another has seen goats running about wild in a garden, and blames a goat or any other animal which happens to be without a keeper. 'how absurd!' would a pilot who is sea-sick be a good pilot? 'no.' or a general who is sick and drunk with fear and ignorant of war a good general? 'a general of old women he ought to be.' but can any one form an estimate of any society, which is intended to have a ruler, and which he only sees in an unruly and lawless state? 'no.' there is a convivial form of society--is there not? 'yes.' and has this convivial society ever been rightly ordered? of course you spartans and cretans have never seen anything of the kind, but i have had wide experience, and made many enquiries about such societies, and have hardly ever found anything right or good in them. 'we acknowledge our want of experience, and desire to learn of you.' will you admit that in all societies there must be a leader? 'yes.' and in time of war he must be a man of courage and absolutely devoid of fear, if this be possible? 'certainly.' but we are talking now of a general who shall preside at meetings of friends--and as these have a tendency to be uproarious, they ought above all others to have a governor. 'very good.' he should be a sober man and a man of the world, who will keep, make, and increase the peace of the society; a drunkard in charge of drunkards would be singularly fortunate if he avoided doing a serious mischief. 'indeed he would.' suppose a person to censure such meetings--he may be right, but also he may have known them only in their disorderly state, under a drunken master of the feast; and a drunken general or pilot cannot save his army or his ships. 'true; but although i see the advantage of an army having a good general, i do not equally see the good of a feast being well managed.' if you mean to ask what good accrues to the state from the right training of a single youth or a single chorus, i should reply, 'not much'; but if you ask what is the good of education in general, i answer, that education makes good men, and that good men act nobly and overcome their enemies in battle. victory is often suicidal to the victors, because it creates forgetfulness of education, but education itself is never suicidal. 'you imply that the regulation of convivial meetings is a part of education; how will you prove this?' i will tell you. but first let me offer a word of apology. we athenians are always thought to be fond of talking, whereas the lacedaemonian is celebrated for brevity, and the cretan is considered to be sagacious and reserved. now i fear that i may be charged with spinning a long discourse out of slender materials. for drinking cannot be rightly ordered without correct principles of music, and music runs up into education generally, and to discuss all these matters may be tedious; if you like, therefore, we will pass on to another part of our subject. 'are you aware, athenian, that our family is your proxenus at sparta, and that from my boyhood i have regarded athens as a second country, and having often fought your battles in my youth, i have become attached to you, and love the sound of the attic dialect? the saying is true, that the best athenians are more than ordinarily good, because they are good by nature; therefore, be assured that i shall be glad to hear you talk as much as you please.' 'i, too,' adds cleinias, 'have a tie which binds me to you. you know that epimenides, the cretan prophet, came and offered sacrifices in your city by the command of an oracle ten years before the persian war. he told the athenians that the persian host would not come for ten years, and would go away again, having suffered more harm than they had inflicted. now epimenides was of my family, and when he visited athens he entered into friendship with your forefathers.' i see that you are willing to listen, and i have the will to speak, if i had only the ability. but, first, i must define the nature and power of education, and by this road we will travel on to the god dionysus. the man who is to be good at anything must have early training;--the future builder must play at building, and the husbandman at digging; the soldier must learn to ride, and the carpenter to measure and use the rule,--all the thoughts and pleasures of children should bear on their after-profession.--do you agree with me? 'certainly.' and we must remember further that we are speaking of the education, not of a trainer, or of the captain of a ship, but of a perfect citizen who knows how to rule and how to obey; and such an education aims at virtue, and not at wealth or strength or mere cleverness. to the good man, education is of all things the most precious, and is also in constant need of renovation. 'we agree.' and we have before agreed that good men are those who are able to control themselves, and bad men are those who are not. let me offer you an illustration which will assist our argument. man is one; but in one and the same man are two foolish counsellors who contend within him--pleasure and pain, and of either he has expectations which we call hope and fear; and he is able to reason about good and evil, and reason, when affirmed by the state, becomes law. 'we cannot follow you.' let me put the matter in another way: every creature is a puppet of the gods--whether he is a mere plaything or has any serious use we do not know; but this we do know, that he is drawn different ways by cords and strings. there is a soft golden cord which draws him towards virtue--this is the law of the state; and there are other cords made of iron and hard materials drawing him other ways. the golden reasoning influence has nothing of the nature of force, and therefore requires ministers in order to vanquish the other principles. this explains the doctrine that cities and citizens both conquer and are conquered by themselves. the individual follows reason, and the city law, which is embodied reason, either derived from the gods or from the legislator. when virtue and vice are thus distinguished, education will be better understood, and in particular the relation of education to convivial intercourse. and now let us set wine before the puppet. you admit that wine stimulates the passions? 'yes.' and does wine equally stimulate the reasoning faculties? 'no; it brings the soul back to a state of childhood.' in such a state a man has the least control over himself, and is, therefore, worst. 'very true.' then how can we believe that drinking should be encouraged? 'you seem to think that it ought to be.' and i am ready to maintain my position. 'we should like to hear you prove that a man ought to make a beast of himself.' you are speaking of the degradation of the soul: but how about the body? would any man willingly degrade or weaken that? 'certainly not.' and yet if he goes to a doctor or a gymnastic master, does he not make himself ill in the hope of getting well? for no one would like to be always taking medicine, or always to be in training. 'true.' and may not convivial meetings have a similar remedial use? and if so, are they not to be preferred to other modes of training because they are painless? 'but have they any such use?' let us see: are there not two kinds of fear--fear of evil and fear of an evil reputation? 'there are.' the latter kind of fear is opposed both to the fear of pain and to the love of pleasure. this is called by the legislator reverence, and is greatly honoured by him and by every good man; whereas confidence, which is the opposite quality, is the worst fault both of individuals and of states. this sort of fear or reverence is one of the two chief causes of victory in war, fearlessness of enemies being the other. 'true.' then every one should be both fearful and fearless? 'yes.' the right sort of fear is infused into a man when he comes face to face with shame, or cowardice, or the temptations of pleasure, and has to conquer them. he must learn by many trials to win the victory over himself, if he is ever to be made perfect. 'that is reasonable enough.' and now, suppose that the gods had given mankind a drug, of which the effect was to exaggerate every sort of evil and danger, so that the bravest man entirely lost his presence of mind and became a coward for a time:--would such a drug have any value? 'but is there such a drug?' no; but suppose that there were; might not the legislator use such a mode of testing courage and cowardice? 'to be sure.' the legislator would induce fear in order to implant fearlessness; and would give rewards or punishments to those who behaved well or the reverse, under the influence of the drug? 'certainly.' and this mode of training, whether practised in the case of one or many, whether in solitude or in the presence of a large company--if a man have sufficient confidence in himself to drink the potion amid his boon companions, leaving off in time and not taking too much,--would be an equally good test of temperance? 'very true.' let us return to the lawgiver and say to him, 'well, lawgiver, no such fear-producing potion has been given by god or invented by man, but there is a potion which will make men fearless.' 'you mean wine.' yes; has not wine an effect the contrary of that which i was just now describing,--first mellowing and humanizing a man, and then filling him with confidence, making him ready to say or do anything? 'certainly.' let us not forget that there are two qualities which should be cultivated in the soul--first, the greatest fearlessness, and, secondly, the greatest fear, which are both parts of reverence. courage and fearlessness are trained amid dangers; but we have still to consider how fear is to be trained. we desire to attain fearlessness and confidence without the insolence and boldness which commonly attend them. for do not love, ignorance, avarice, wealth, beauty, strength, while they stimulate courage, also madden and intoxicate the soul? what better and more innocent test of character is there than festive intercourse? would you make a bargain with a man in order to try whether he is honest? or would you ascertain whether he is licentious by putting your wife or daughter into his hands? no one would deny that the test proposed is fairer, speedier, and safer than any other. and such a test will be particularly useful in the political science, which desires to know human natures and characters. 'very true.' book ii. and are there any other uses of well-ordered potations? there are; but in order to explain them, i must repeat what i mean by right education; which, if i am not mistaken, depends on the due regulation of convivial intercourse. 'a high assumption.' i believe that virtue and vice are originally present to the mind of children in the form of pleasure and pain; reason and fixed principles come later, and happy is he who acquires them even in declining years; for he who possesses them is the perfect man. when pleasure and pain, and love and hate, are rightly implanted in the yet unconscious soul, and after the attainment of reason are discovered to be in harmony with her, this harmony of the soul is virtue, and the preparatory stage, anticipating reason, i call education. but the finer sense of pleasure and pain is apt to be impaired in the course of life; and therefore the gods, pitying the toils and sorrows of mortals, have allowed them to have holidays, and given them the muses and apollo and dionysus for leaders and playfellows. all young creatures love motion and frolic, and utter sounds of delight; but man only is capable of taking pleasure in rhythmical and harmonious movements. with these education begins; and the uneducated is he who has never known the discipline of the chorus, and the educated is he who has. the chorus is partly dance and partly song, and therefore the well-educated must sing and dance well. but when we say, 'he sings and dances well,' we mean that he sings and dances what is good. and if he thinks that to be good which is really good, he will have a much higher music and harmony in him, and be a far greater master of imitation in sound and gesture than he who is not of this opinion. 'true.' then, if we know what is good and bad in song and dance, we shall know what education is? 'very true.' let us now consider the beauty of figure, melody, song, and dance. will the same figures or sounds be equally well adapted to the manly and the cowardly when they are in trouble? 'how can they be, when the very colours of their faces are different?' figures and melodies have a rhythm and harmony which are adapted to the expression of different feelings (i may remark, by the way, that the term 'colour,' which is a favourite word of music-masters, is not really applicable to music). and one class of harmonies is akin to courage and all virtue, the other to cowardice and all vice. 'we agree.' and do all men equally like all dances? 'far otherwise.' do some figures, then, appear to be beautiful which are not? for no one will admit that the forms of vice are more beautiful than the forms of virtue, or that he prefers the first kind to the second. and yet most persons say that the merit of music is to give pleasure. but this is impiety. there is, however, a more plausible account of the matter given by others, who make their likes or dislikes the criterion of excellence. sometimes nature crosses habit, or conversely, and then they say that such and such fashions or gestures are pleasant, but they do not like to exhibit them before men of sense, although they enjoy them in private. 'very true.' and do vicious measures and strains do any harm, or good measures any good to the lovers of them? 'probably.' say, rather 'certainly': for the gentle indulgence which we often show to vicious men inevitably makes us become like them. and what can be worse than this? 'nothing.' then in a well-administered city, the poet will not be allowed to make the songs of the people just as he pleases, or to train his choruses without regard to virtue and vice. 'certainly not.' and yet he may do this anywhere except in egypt; for there ages ago they discovered the great truth which i am now asserting, that the young should be educated in forms and strains of virtue. these they fixed and consecrated in their temples; and no artist or musician is allowed to deviate from them. they are literally the same which they were ten thousand years ago. and this practice of theirs suggests the reflection that legislation about music is not an impossible thing. but the particular enactments must be the work of god or of some god-inspired man, as in egypt their ancient chants are said to be the composition of the goddess isis. the melodies which have a natural truth and correctness should be embodied in a law, and then the desire of novelty is not strong enough to change the old fashions. is not the origin of music as follows? we rejoice when we think that we prosper, and we think that we prosper when we rejoice, and at such times we cannot rest, but our young men dance dances and sing songs, and our old men, who have lost the elasticity of youth, regale themselves with the memory of the past, while they contemplate the life and activity of the young. 'most true.' people say that he who gives us most pleasure at such festivals is to win the palm: are they right? 'possibly.' let us not be hasty in deciding, but first imagine a festival at which the lord of the festival, having assembled the citizens, makes a proclamation that he shall be crowned victor who gives the most pleasure, from whatever source derived. we will further suppose that there are exhibitions of rhapsodists and musicians, tragic and comic poets, and even marionette-players--which of the pleasure-makers will win? shall i answer for you?--the marionette-players will please the children; youths will decide for comedy; young men, educated women, and people in general will prefer tragedy; we old men are lovers of homer and hesiod. now which of them is right? if you and i are asked, we shall certainly say that the old men's way of thinking ought to prevail. 'very true.' so far i agree with the many that the excellence of music is to be measured by pleasure; but then the pleasure must be that of the good and educated, or better still, of one supremely virtuous and educated man. the true judge must have both wisdom and courage. for he must lead the multitude and not be led by them, and must not weakly yield to the uproar of the theatre, nor give false judgment out of that mouth which has just appealed to the gods. the ancient custom of hellas, which still prevails in italy and sicily, left the judgment to the spectators, but this custom has been the ruin of the poets, who seek only to please their patrons, and has degraded the audience by the representation of inferior characters. what is the inference? the same which we have often drawn, that education is the training of the young idea in what the law affirms and the elders approve. and as the soul of a child is too young to be trained in earnest, a kind of education has been invented which tempts him with plays and songs, as the sick are tempted by pleasant meats and drinks. and the wise legislator will compel the poet to express in his poems noble thoughts in fitting words and rhythms. 'but is this the practice elsewhere than in crete and lacedaemon? in other states, as far as i know, dances and music are constantly changed at the pleasure of the hearers.' i am afraid that i misled you; not liking to be always finding fault with mankind as they are, i described them as they ought to be. but let me understand: you say that such customs exist among the cretans and lacedaemonians, and that the rest of the world would be improved by adopting them? 'much improved.' and you compel your poets to declare that the righteous are happy, and that the wicked man, even if he be as rich as midas, is unhappy? or, in the words of tyrtaeus, 'i sing not, i care not about him' who is a great warrior not having justice; if he be unjust, 'i would not have him look calmly upon death or be swifter than the wind'; and may he be deprived of every good--that is, of every true good. for even if he have the goods which men regard, these are not really goods: first health; beauty next; thirdly wealth; and there are others. a man may have every sense purged and improved; he may be a tyrant, and do what he likes, and live for ever: but you and i will maintain that all these things are goods to the just, but to the unjust the greatest of evils, if life be immortal; not so great if he live for a short time only. if a man had health and wealth, and power, and was insolent and unjust, his life would still be miserable; he might be fair and rich, and do what he liked, but he would live basely, and if basely evilly, and if evilly painfully. 'there i cannot agree with you.' then may heaven give us the spirit of agreement, for i am as convinced of the truth of what i say as that crete is an island; and, if i were a lawgiver, i would exercise a censorship over the poets, and i would punish them if they said that the wicked are happy, or that injustice is profitable. and these are not the only matters in which i should make my citizens talk in a different way to the world in general. if i asked zeus and apollo, the divine legislators of crete and sparta,--'are the just and pleasant life the same or not the same'?--and they replied,--'not the same'; and i asked again--'which is the happier'? and they said'--'the pleasant life,' this is an answer not fit for a god to utter, and therefore i ought rather to put the same question to some legislator. and if he replies 'the pleasant,' then i should say to him, 'o my father, did you not tell me that i should live as justly as possible'? and if to be just is to be happy, what is that principle of happiness or good which is superior to pleasure? is the approval of gods and men to be deemed good and honourable, but unpleasant, and their disapproval the reverse? or is the neither doing nor suffering evil good and honourable, although not pleasant? but you cannot make men like what is not pleasant, and therefore you must make them believe that the just is pleasant. the business of the legislator is to clear up this confusion. he will show that the just and the unjust are identical with the pleasurable and the painful, from the point of view of the just man, of the unjust the reverse. and which is the truer judgment? surely that of the better soul. for if not the truth, it is the best and most moral of fictions; and the legislator who desires to propagate this useful lie, may be encouraged by remarking that mankind have believed the story of cadmus and the dragon's teeth, and therefore he may be assured that he can make them believe anything, and need only consider what fiction will do the greatest good. that the happiest is also the holiest, this shall be our strain, which shall be sung by all three choruses alike. first will enter the choir of children, who will lift up their voices on high; and after them the young men, who will pray the god paean to be gracious to the youth, and to testify to the truth of their words; then will come the chorus of elder men, between thirty and sixty; and, lastly, there will be the old men, and they will tell stories enforcing the same virtues, as with the voice of an oracle. 'whom do you mean by the third chorus?' you remember how i spoke at first of the restless nature of young creatures, who jumped about and called out in a disorderly manner, and i said that no other animal attained any perception of rhythm; but that to us the gods gave apollo and the muses and dionysus to be our playfellows. of the two first choruses i have already spoken, and i have now to speak of the third, or dionysian chorus, which is composed of those who are between thirty and sixty years old. 'let us hear.' we are agreed (are we not?) that men, women, and children should be always charming themselves with strains of virtue, and that there should be a variety in the strains, that they may not weary of them? now the fairest and most useful of strains will be uttered by the elder men, and therefore we cannot let them off. but how can we make them sing? for a discreet elderly man is ashamed to hear the sound of his own voice in private, and still more in public. the only way is to give them drink; this will mellow the sourness of age. no one should be allowed to taste wine until they are eighteen; from eighteen to thirty they may take a little; but when they have reached forty years, they may be initiated into the mystery of drinking. thus they will become softer and more impressible; and when a man's heart is warm within him, he will be more ready to charm himself and others with song. and what songs shall he sing? 'at crete and lacedaemon we only know choral songs.' yes; that is because your way of life is military. your young men are like wild colts feeding in a herd together; no one takes the individual colt and trains him apart, and tries to give him the qualities of a statesman as well as of a soldier. he who was thus trained would be a greater warrior than those of whom tyrtaeus speaks, for he would be courageous, and yet he would know that courage was only fourth in the scale of virtue. 'once more, i must say, stranger, that you run down our lawgivers.' not intentionally, my good friend, but whither the argument leads i follow; and i am trying to find some style of poetry suitable for those who dislike the common sort. 'very good.' in all things which have a charm, either this charm is their good, or they have some accompanying truth or advantage. for example, in eating and drinking there is pleasure and also profit, that is to say, health; and in learning there is a pleasure and also truth. there is a pleasure or charm, too, in the imitative arts, as well as a law of proportion or equality; but the pleasure which they afford, however innocent, is not the criterion of their truth. the test of pleasure cannot be applied except to that which has no other good or evil, no truth or falsehood. but that which has truth must be judged of by the standard of truth, and therefore imitation and proportion are to be judged of by their truth alone. 'certainly.' and as music is imitative, it is not to be judged by the criterion of pleasure, and the muse whom we seek is the muse not of pleasure but of truth, for imitation has a truth. 'doubtless.' and if so, the judge must know what is being imitated before he decides on the quality of the imitation, and he who does not know what is true will not know what is good. 'he will not.' will any one be able to imitate the human body, if he does not know the number, proportion, colour, or figure of the limbs? 'how can he?' but suppose we know some picture or figure to be an exact resemblance of a man, should we not also require to know whether the picture is beautiful or not? 'quite right.' the judge of the imitation is required to know, therefore, first the original, secondly the truth, and thirdly the merit of the execution? 'true.' then let us not weary in the attempt to bring music to the standard of the muses and of truth. the muses are not like human poets; they never spoil or mix rhythms or scales, or mingle instruments and human voices, or confuse the manners and strains of men and women, or of freemen and slaves, or of rational beings and brute animals. they do not practise the baser sorts of musical arts, such as the 'matured judgments,' of whom orpheus speaks, would ridicule. but modern poets separate metre from music, and melody and rhythm from words, and use the instrument alone without the voice. the consequence is, that the meaning of the rhythm and of the time are not understood. i am endeavouring to show how our fifty-year-old choristers are to be trained, and what they are to avoid. the opinion of the multitude about these matters is worthless; they who are only made to step in time by sheer force cannot be critics of music. 'impossible.' then our newly-appointed minstrels must be trained in music sufficiently to understand the nature of rhythms and systems; and they should select such as are suitable to men of their age, and will enable them to give and receive innocent pleasure. this is a knowledge which goes beyond that either of the poets or of their auditors in general. for although the poet must understand rhythm and music, he need not necessarily know whether the imitation is good or not, which was the third point required in a judge; but our chorus of elders must know all three, if they are to be the instructors of youth. and now we will resume the original argument, which may be summed up as follows: a convivial meeting is apt to grow tumultuous as the drinking proceeds; every man becomes light-headed, and fancies that he can rule the whole world. 'doubtless.' and did we not say that the souls of the drinkers, when subdued by wine, are made softer and more malleable at the hand of the legislator? the docility of childhood returns to them. at times however they become too valiant and disorderly, drinking out of their turn, and interrupting one another. and the business of the legislator is to infuse into them that divine fear, which we call shame, in opposition to this disorderly boldness. but in order to discipline them there must be guardians of the law of drinking, and sober generals who shall take charge of the private soldiers; they are as necessary in drinking as in fighting, and he who disobeys these dionysiac commanders will be equally disgraced. 'very good.' if a drinking festival were well regulated, men would go away, not as they now do, greater enemies, but better friends. of the greatest gift of dionysus i hardly like to speak, lest i should be misunderstood. 'what is that?' according to tradition dionysus was driven mad by his stepmother here, and in order to revenge himself he inspired mankind with bacchic madness. but these are stories which i would rather not repeat. however i do acknowledge that all men are born in an imperfect state, and are at first restless, irrational creatures: this, as you will remember, has been already said by us. 'i remember.' and that apollo and the muses and dionysus gave us harmony and rhythm? 'very true.' the other story implies that wine was given to punish us and make us mad; but we contend that wine is a balm and a cure; a spring of modesty in the soul, and of health and strength in the body. again, the work of the chorus is co-extensive with the work of education; rhythm and melody answer to the voice, and the motions of the body correspond to all three, and the sound enters in and educates the soul in virtue. 'yes.' and the movement which, when pursued as an amusement, is termed dancing, when studied with a view to the improvement of the body, becomes gymnastic. shall we now proceed to speak of this? 'what cretan or lacedaemonian would approve of your omitting gymnastic?' your question implies assent; and you will easily understand a subject which is familiar to you. gymnastic is based on the natural tendency of every animal to rapid motion; and man adds a sense of rhythm, which is awakened by music; music and dancing together form the choral art. but before proceeding i must add a crowning word about drinking. like other pleasures, it has a lawful use; but if a state or an individual is inclined to drink at will, i cannot allow them. i would go further than crete or lacedaemon and have the law of the carthaginians, that no slave of either sex should drink wine at all, and no soldier while he is on a campaign, and no magistrate or officer while he is on duty, and that no one should drink by daylight or on a bridal night. and there are so many other occasions on which wine ought to be prohibited, that there will not be many vines grown or vineyards required in the state. book iii. if a man wants to know the origin of states and societies, he should behold them from the point of view of time. thousands of cities have come into being and have passed away again in infinite ages, every one of them having had endless forms of government; and if we can ascertain the cause of these changes in states, that will probably explain their origin. what do you think of ancient traditions about deluges and destructions of mankind, and the preservation of a remnant? 'every one believes in them.' then let us suppose the world to have been destroyed by a deluge. the survivors would be hill-shepherds, small sparks of the human race, dwelling in isolation, and unacquainted with the arts and vices of civilization. we may further suppose that the cities on the plain and on the coast have been swept away, and that all inventions, and every sort of knowledge, have perished. 'why, if all things were as they now are, nothing would have ever been invented. all our famous discoveries have been made within the last thousand years, and many of them are but of yesterday.' yes, cleinias, and you must not forget epimenides, who was really of yesterday; he practised the lesson of moderation and abstinence which hesiod only preached. 'true.' after the great destruction we may imagine that the earth was a desert, in which there were a herd or two of oxen and a few goats, hardly enough to support those who tended them; while of politics and governments the survivors would know nothing. and out of this state of things have arisen arts and laws, and a great deal of virtue and a great deal of vice; little by little the world has come to be what it is. at first, the few inhabitants would have had a natural fear of descending into the plains; although they would want to have intercourse with one another, they would have a difficulty in getting about, having lost the arts, and having no means of extracting metals from the earth, or of felling timber; for even if they had saved any tools, these would soon have been worn out, and they could get no more until the art of metallurgy had been again revived. faction and war would be extinguished among them, for being solitary they would incline to be friendly; and having abundance of pasture and plenty of milk and flesh, they would have nothing to quarrel about. we may assume that they had also dwellings, clothes, pottery, for the weaving and plastic arts do not require the use of metals. in those days they were neither poor nor rich, and there was no insolence or injustice among them; for they were of noble natures, and lived up to their principles, and believed what they were told; knowing nothing of land or naval warfare, or of legal practices or party conflicts, they were simpler and more temperate, and also more just than the men of our day. 'very true.' i am showing whence the need of lawgivers arises, for in primitive ages they neither had nor wanted them. men lived according to the customs of their fathers, in a simple manner, under a patriarchal government, such as still exists both among hellenes and barbarians, and is described in homer as prevailing among the cyclopes:-- 'they have no laws, and they dwell in rocks or on the tops of mountains, and every one is the judge of his wife and children, and they do not trouble themselves about one another.' 'that is a charming poet of yours, though i know little of him, for in crete foreign poets are not much read.' 'but he is well known in sparta, though he describes ionian rather than dorian manners, and he seems to take your view of primitive society.' may we not suppose that government arose out of the union of single families who survived the destruction, and were under the rule of patriarchs, because they had originally descended from a single father and mother? 'that is very probable.' as time went on, men increased in number, and tilled the ground, living in a common habitation, which they protected by walls against wild beasts; but the several families retained the laws and customs which they separately received from their first parents. they would naturally like their own laws better than any others, and would be already formed by them when they met in a common society: thus legislation imperceptibly began among them. for in the next stage the associated families would appoint plenipotentiaries, who would select and present to the chiefs those of all their laws which they thought best. the chiefs in turn would make a further selection, and would thus become the lawgivers of the state, which they would form into an aristocracy or a monarchy. 'probably.' in the third stage various other forms of government would arise. this state of society is described by homer in speaking of the foundation of dardania, which, he says, 'was built at the foot of many-fountained ida, for ilium, the city of the plain, as yet was not.' here, as also in the account of the cyclopes, the poet by some divine inspiration has attained truth. but to proceed with our tale. ilium was built in a wide plain, on a low hill, which was surrounded by streams descending from ida. this shows that many ages must have passed; for the men who remembered the deluge would never have placed their city at the mercy of the waters. when mankind began to multiply, many other cities were built in similar situations. these cities carried on a ten years' war against troy, by sea as well as land, for men were ceasing to be afraid of the sea, and, in the meantime, while the chiefs of the army were at troy, their homes fell into confusion. the youth revolted and refused to receive their own fathers; deaths, murders, exiles ensued. under the new name of dorians, which they received from their chief dorieus, the exiles returned: the rest of the story is part of the history of sparta. thus, after digressing from the subject of laws into music and drinking, we return to the settlement of sparta, which in laws and institutions is the sister of crete. we have seen the rise of a first, second, and third state, during the lapse of ages; and now we arrive at a fourth state, and out of the comparison of all four we propose to gather the nature of laws and governments, and the changes which may be desirable in them. 'if,' replies the spartan, 'our new discussion is likely to be as good as the last, i would think the longest day too short for such an employment.' let us imagine the time when lacedaemon, and argos, and messene were all subject, megillus, to your ancestors. afterwards, they distributed the army into three portions, and made three cities--argos, messene, lacedaemon. 'yes.' temenus was the king of argos, cresphontes of messene, procles and eurysthenes ruled at lacedaemon. 'just so.' and they all swore to assist any one of their number whose kingdom was subverted. 'yes.' but did we not say that kingdoms or governments can only be subverted by themselves? 'that is true.' yes, and the truth is now proved by facts: there were certain conditions upon which the three kingdoms were to assist one another; the government was to be mild and the people obedient, and the kings and people were to unite in assisting either of the two others when they were wronged. this latter condition was a great security. 'clearly.' such a provision is in opposition to the common notion that the lawgiver should make only such laws as the people like; but we say that he should rather be like a physician, prepared to effect a cure even at the cost of considerable suffering. 'very true.' the early lawgivers had another great advantage--they were saved from the reproach which attends a division of land and the abolition of debts. no one could quarrel with the dorians for dividing the territory, and they had no debts of long standing. 'they had not.' then what was the reason why their legislation signally failed? for there were three kingdoms, two of them quickly lost their original constitution. that is a question which we cannot refuse to answer, if we mean to proceed with our old man's game of enquiring into laws and institutions. and the dorian institutions are more worthy of consideration than any other, having been evidently intended to be a protection not only to the peloponnese, but to all the hellenes against the barbarians. for the capture of troy by the achaeans had given great offence to the assyrians, of whose empire it then formed part, and they were likely to retaliate. accordingly the royal heraclid brothers devised their military constitution, which was organised on a far better plan than the old trojan expedition; and the dorians themselves were far superior to the achaeans, who had taken part in that expedition, and had been conquered by them. such a scheme, undertaken by men who had shared with one another toils and dangers, sanctioned by the delphian oracle, under the guidance of the heraclidae, seemed to have a promise of permanence. 'naturally.' yet this has not proved to be the case. instead of the three being one, they have always been at war; had they been united, in accordance with the original intention, they would have been invincible. and what caused their ruin? did you ever observe that there are beautiful things of which men often say, 'what wonders they would have effected if rightly used?' and yet, after all, this may be a mistake. and so i say of the heraclidae and their expedition, which i may perhaps have been justified in admiring, but which nevertheless suggests to me the general reflection,--'what wonders might not strength and military resources have accomplished, if the possessor had only known how to use them!' for consider: if the generals of the army had only known how to arrange their forces, might they not have given their subjects everlasting freedom, and the power of doing what they would in all the world? 'very true.' suppose a person to express his admiration of wealth or rank, does he not do so under the idea that by the help of these he can attain his desires? all men wish to obtain the control of all things, and they are always praying for what they desire. 'certainly.' and we ask for our friends what they ask for themselves. 'yes.' dear is the son to the father, and yet the son, if he is young and foolish, will often pray to obtain what the father will pray that he may not obtain. 'true.' and when the father, in the heat of youth or the dotage of age, makes some rash prayer, the son, like hippolytus, may have reason to pray that the word of his father may be ineffectual. 'you mean that a man should pray to have right desires, before he prays that his desires may be fulfilled; and that wisdom should be the first object of our prayers?' yes; and you will remember my saying that wisdom should be the principal aim of the legislator; but you said that defence in war came first. and i replied, that there were four virtues, whereas you acknowledged one only--courage, and not wisdom which is the guide of all the rest. and i repeat--in jest if you like, but i am willing that you should receive my words in earnest--that 'the prayer of a fool is full of danger.' i will prove to you, if you will allow me, that the ruin of those states was not caused by cowardice or ignorance in war, but by ignorance of human affairs. 'pray proceed: our attention will show better than compliments that we prize your words.' i maintain that ignorance is, and always has been, the ruin of states; wherefore the legislator should seek to banish it from the state; and the greatest ignorance is the love of what is known to be evil, and the hatred of what is known to be good; this is the last and greatest conflict of pleasure and reason in the soul. i say the greatest, because affecting the greater part of the soul; for the passions are in the individual what the people are in a state. and when they become opposed to reason or law, and instruction no longer avails--that is the last and greatest ignorance of states and men. 'i agree.' let this, then, be our first principle:--that the citizen who does not know how to choose between good and evil must not have authority, although he possess great mental gifts, and many accomplishments; for he is really a fool. on the other hand, he who has this knowledge may be unable either to read or swim; nevertheless, he shall be counted wise and permitted to rule. for how can there be wisdom where there is no harmony?--the wise man is the saviour, and he who is devoid of wisdom is the destroyer of states and households. there are rulers and there are subjects in states. and the first claim to rule is that of parents to rule over their children; the second, that of the noble to rule over the ignoble; thirdly, the elder must govern the younger; in the fourth place, the slave must obey his master; fifthly, there is the power of the stronger, which the poet pindar declares to be according to nature; sixthly, there is the rule of the wiser, which is also according to nature, as i must inform pindar, if he does not know, and is the rule of law over obedient subjects. 'most true.' and there is a seventh kind of rule which the gods love,--in this the ruler is elected by lot. then, now, we playfully say to him who fancies that it is easy to make laws:--you see, legislator, the many and inconsistent claims to authority; here is a spring of troubles which you must stay. and first of all you must help us to consider how the kings of argos and messene in olden days destroyed their famous empire--did they forget the saying of hesiod, that 'the half is better than the whole'? and do we suppose that the ignorance of this truth is less fatal to kings than to peoples? 'probably the evil is increased by their way of life.' the kings of those days transgressed the laws and violated their oaths. their deeds were not in harmony with their words, and their folly, which seemed to them wisdom, was the ruin of the state. and how could the legislator have prevented this evil?--the remedy is easy to see now, but was not easy to foresee at the time. 'what is the remedy?' the institutions of sparta may teach you, megillus. wherever there is excess, whether the vessel has too large a sail, or the body too much food, or the mind too much power, there destruction is certain. and similarly, a man who possesses arbitrary power is soon corrupted, and grows hateful to his dearest friends. in order to guard against this evil, the god who watched over sparta gave you two kings instead of one, that they might balance one another; and further to lower the pulse of your body politic, some human wisdom, mingled with divine power, tempered the strength and self-sufficiency of youth with the moderation of age in the institution of your senate. a third saviour bridled your rising and swelling power by ephors, whom he assimilated to officers elected by lot: and thus the kingly power was preserved, and became the preserver of all the rest. had the constitution been arranged by the original legislators, not even the portion of aristodemus would have been saved; for they had no political experience, and imagined that a youthful spirit invested with power could be restrained by oaths. now that god has instructed us in the arts of legislation, there is no merit in seeing all this, or in learning wisdom after the event. but if the coming danger could have been foreseen, and the union preserved, then no persian or other enemy would have dared to attack hellas; and indeed there was not so much credit to us in defeating the enemy, as discredit in our disloyalty to one another. for of the three cities one only fought on behalf of hellas; and of the two others, argos refused her aid; and messenia was actually at war with sparta: and if the lacedaemonians and athenians had not united, the hellenes would have been absorbed in the persian empire, and dispersed among the barbarians. we make these reflections upon past and present legislators because we desire to find out what other course could have been followed. we were saying just now, that a state can only be free and wise and harmonious when there is a balance of powers. there are many words by which we express the aims of the legislator,--temperance, wisdom, friendship; but we need not be disturbed by the variety of expression,--these words have all the same meaning. 'i should like to know at what in your opinion the legislator should aim.' hear me, then. there are two mother forms of states--one monarchy, and the other democracy: the persians have the first in the highest form, and the athenians the second; and no government can be well administered which does not include both. there was a time when both the persians and athenians had more the character of a constitutional state than they now have. in the days of cyrus the persians were freemen as well as lords of others, and their soldiers were free and equal, and the kings used and honoured all the talent which they could find, and so the nation waxed great, because there was freedom and friendship and communion of soul. but cyrus, though a wise general, never troubled himself about the education of his family. he was a soldier from his youth upward, and left his children who were born in the purple to be educated by women, who humoured and spoilt them. 'a rare education, truly!' yes, such an education as princesses who had recently grown rich might be expected to give them in a country where the men were solely occupied with warlike pursuits. 'likely enough.' their father had possessions of men and animals, and never considered that the race to whom he was about to make them over had been educated in a very different school, not like the persian shepherd, who was well able to take care of himself and his own. he did not see that his children had been brought up in the median fashion, by women and eunuchs. the end was that one of the sons of cyrus slew the other, and lost the kingdom by his own folly. observe, again, that darius, who restored the kingdom, had not received a royal education. he was one of the seven chiefs, and when he came to the throne he divided the empire into seven provinces; and he made equal laws, and implanted friendship among the people. hence his subjects were greatly attached to him, and cheerfully helped him to extend his empire. next followed xerxes, who had received the same royal education as cambyses, and met with a similar fate. the reflection naturally occurs to us--how could darius, with all his experience, have made such a mistake! the ruin of xerxes was not a mere accident, but the evil life which is generally led by the sons of very rich and royal persons; and this is what the legislator has seriously to consider. justly may the lacedaemonians be praised for not giving special honour to birth or wealth; for such advantages are not to be highly esteemed without virtue, and not even virtue is to be esteemed unless it be accompanied by temperance. 'explain.' no one would like to live in the same house with a courageous man who had no control over himself, nor with a clever artist who was a rogue. nor can justice and wisdom ever be separated from temperance. but considering these qualities with reference to the honour and dishonour which is to be assigned to them in states, would you say, on the other hand, that temperance, if existing without the other virtues in the soul, is worth anything or nothing? 'i cannot tell.' you have answered well. it would be absurd to speak of temperance as belonging to the class of honourable or of dishonourable qualities, because all other virtues in their various classes require temperance to be added to them; having the addition, they are honoured not in proportion to that, but to their own excellence. and ought not the legislator to determine these classes? 'certainly.' suppose then that, without going into details, we make three great classes of them. most honourable are the goods of the soul, always assuming temperance as a condition of them; secondly, those of the body; thirdly, external possessions. the legislator who puts them in another order is doing an unholy and unpatriotic thing. these remarks were suggested by the history of the persian kings; and to them i will now return. the ruin of their empire was caused by the loss of freedom and the growth of despotism; all community of feeling disappeared. hatred and spoliation took the place of friendship; the people no longer fought heartily for their masters; the rulers, finding their myriads useless on the field of battle, resorted to mercenaries as their only salvation, and were thus compelled by their circumstances to proclaim the stupidest of falsehoods--that virtue is a trifle in comparison of money. but enough of the persians: a different lesson is taught by the athenians, whose example shows that a limited freedom is far better than an unlimited. ancient athens, at the time of the persian invasion, had such a limited freedom. the people were divided into four classes, according to the amount of their property, and the universal love of order, as well as the fear of the approaching host, made them obedient and willing citizens. for darius had sent datis and artaphernes, commanding them under pain of death to subjugate the eretrians and athenians. a report, whether true or not, came to athens that all the eretrians had been 'netted'; and the athenians in terror sent all over hellas for assistance. none came to their relief except the lacedaemonians, and they arrived a day too late, when the battle of marathon had been already fought. in process of time xerxes came to the throne, and the athenians heard of nothing but the bridge over the hellespont, and the canal of athos, and the innumerable host and fleet. they knew that these were intended to avenge the defeat of marathon. their case seemed desperate, for there was no hellene likely to assist them by land, and at sea they were attacked by more than a thousand vessels;--their only hope, however slender, was in victory; so they relied upon themselves and upon the gods. their common danger, and the influence of their ancient constitution, greatly tended to promote harmony among them. reverence and fear--that fear which the coward never knows--made them fight for their altars and their homes, and saved them from being dispersed all over the world. 'your words, athenian, are worthy of your country.' and you megillus, who have inherited the virtues of your ancestors, are worthy to hear them. let me ask you to take the moral of my tale. the persians have lost their liberty in absolute slavery, and we in absolute freedom. in ancient times the athenian people were not the masters, but the servants of the laws. 'of what laws?' in the first place, there were laws about music, and the music was of various kinds: there was one kind which consisted of hymns, another of lamentations; there was also the paean and the dithyramb, and the so-called 'laws' (nomoi) or strains, which were played upon the harp. the regulation of such matters was not left to the whistling and clapping of the crowd; there was silence while the judges decided, and the boys, and the audience in general, were kept in order by raps of a stick. but after a while there arose a new race of poets, men of genius certainly, however careless of musical truth and propriety, who made pleasure the only criterion of excellence. that was a test which the spectators could apply for themselves; the whole audience, instead of being mute, became vociferous, and a theatrocracy took the place of an aristocracy. could the judges have been free, there would have been no great harm done; a musical democracy would have been well enough--but conceit has been our ruin. everybody knows everything, and is ready to say anything; the age of reverence is gone, and the age of irreverence and licentiousness has succeeded. 'most true.' and with this freedom comes disobedience to rulers, parents, elders,--in the latter days to the law also; the end returns to the beginning, and the old titanic nature reappears--men have no regard for the gods or for oaths; and the evils of the human race seem as if they would never cease. whither are we running away? once more we must pull up the argument with bit and curb, lest, as the proverb says, we should fall off our ass. 'good.' our purpose in what we have been saying is to prove that the legislator ought to aim at securing for a state three things--freedom, friendship, wisdom. and we chose two states;--one was the type of freedom, and the other of despotism; and we showed that when in a mean they attained their highest perfection. in a similar spirit we spoke of the dorian expedition, and of the settlement on the hills and in the plains of troy; and of music, and the use of wine, and of all that preceded. and now, has our discussion been of any use? 'yes, stranger; for by a singular coincidence the cretans are about to send out a colony, of which the settlement has been confided to the cnosians. ten commissioners, of whom i am one, are to give laws to the colonists, and we may give any which we please--cretan or foreign. and therefore let us make a selection from what has been said, and then proceed with the construction of the state.' very good: i am quite at your service. 'and i too,' says megillus. book iv. and now, what is this city? i do not want to know what is to be the name of the place (for some accident,--a river or a local deity, will determine that), but what the situation is, whether maritime or inland. 'the city will be about eleven miles from the sea.' are there harbours? 'excellent.' and is the surrounding country self-supporting? 'almost.' any neighbouring states? 'no; and that is the reason for choosing the place, which has been deserted from time immemorial.' and is there a fair proportion of hill and plain and wood? 'like crete in general, more hill than plain.' then there is some hope for your citizens; had the city been on the sea, and dependent for support on other countries, no human power could have preserved you from corruption. even the distance of eleven miles is hardly enough. for the sea, although an agreeable, is a dangerous companion, and a highway of strange morals and manners as well as of commerce. but as the country is only moderately fertile there will be no great export trade and no great returns of gold and silver, which are the ruin of states. is there timber for ship-building? 'there is no pine, nor much cypress; and very little stone-pine or plane wood for the interior of ships.' that is good. 'why?' because the city will not be able to imitate the bad ways of her enemies. 'what is the bearing of that remark?' to explain my meaning, i would ask you to remember what we said about the cretan laws, that they had an eye to war only; whereas i maintained that they ought to have included all virtue. and i hope that you in your turn will retaliate upon me if i am false to my own principle. for i consider that the lawgiver should go straight to the mark of virtue and justice, and disregard wealth and every other good when separated from virtue. what further i mean, when i speak of the imitation of enemies, i will illustrate by the story of minos, if our cretan friend will allow me to mention it. minos, who was a great sea-king, imposed upon the athenians a cruel tribute, for in those days they were not a maritime power; they had no timber for ship-building, and therefore they could not 'imitate their enemies'; and better far, as i maintain, would it have been for them to have lost many times over the lives which they devoted to the tribute than to have turned soldiers into sailors. naval warfare is not a very praiseworthy art; men should not be taught to leap on shore, and then again to hurry back to their ships, or to find specious excuses for throwing away their arms; bad customs ought not to be gilded with fine words. and retreat is always bad, as we are taught in homer, when he introduces odysseus, setting forth to agamemnon the danger of ships being at hand when soldiers are disposed to fly. an army of lions trained in such ways would fly before a herd of deer. further, a city which owes its preservation to a crowd of pilots and oarsmen and other undeserving persons, cannot bestow rewards of honour properly; and this is the ruin of states. 'still, in crete we say that the battle of salamis was the salvation of hellas.' such is the prevailing opinion. but i and megillus say that the battle of marathon began the deliverance, and that the battle of plataea completed it; for these battles made men better, whereas the battles of salamis and artemisium made them no better. and we further affirm that mere existence is not the great political good of individuals or states, but the continuance of the best existence. 'certainly.' let us then endeavour to follow this principle in colonization and legislation. and first, let me ask you who are to be the colonists? may any one come from any city of crete? for you would surely not send a general invitation to all hellas. yet i observe that in crete there are people who have come from argos and aegina and other places. 'our recruits will be drawn from all crete, and of other hellenes we should prefer peloponnesians. as you observe, there are argives among the cretans; moreover the gortynians, who are the best of all cretans, have come from gortys in peloponnesus.' colonization is in some ways easier when the colony goes out in a swarm from one country, owing to the pressure of population, or revolution, or war. in this case there is the advantage that the new colonists have a community of race, language, and laws. but then again, they are less obedient to the legislator; and often they are anxious to keep the very laws and customs which caused their ruin at home. a mixed multitude, on the other hand, is more tractable, although there is a difficulty in making them pull together. there is nothing, however, which perfects men's virtue more than legislation and colonization. and yet i have a word to say which may seem to be depreciatory of legislators. 'what is that?' i was going to make the saddening reflection, that accidents of all sorts are the true legislators,--wars and pestilences and famines and the frequent recurrence of bad seasons. the observer will be inclined to say that almost all human things are chance; and this is certainly true about navigation and medicine, and the art of the general. but there is another thing which may equally be said. 'what is it?' that god governs all things, and that chance and opportunity co-operate with him. and according to yet a third view, art has part with them, for surely in a storm it is well to have a pilot? and the same is true of legislation: even if circumstances are favourable, a skilful lawgiver is still necessary. 'most true.' all artists would pray for certain conditions under which to exercise their art: and would not the legislator do the same? 'certainly?' come, legislator, let us say to him, and what are the conditions which you would have? he will answer, grant me a city which is ruled by a tyrant; and let the tyrant be young, mindful, teachable, courageous, magnanimous; and let him have the inseparable condition of all virtue, which is temperance--not prudence, but that natural temperance which is the gift of children and animals, and is hardly reckoned among goods--with this he must be endowed, if the state is to acquire the form most conducive to happiness in the speediest manner. and i must add one other condition: the tyrant must be fortunate, and his good fortune must consist in his having the co-operation of a great legislator. when god has done all this, he has done the best which he can for a state; not so well if he has given them two legislators instead of one, and less and less well if he has given them a great many. an orderly tyranny most easily passes into the perfect state; in the second degree, a monarchy; in the third degree, a democracy; an oligarchy is worst of all. 'i do not understand.' i suppose that you have never seen a city which is subject to a tyranny? 'i have no desire to see one.' you would have seen what i am describing, if you ever had. the tyrant can speedily change the manners of a state, and affix the stamp of praise or blame on any action which he pleases; for the citizens readily follow the example which he sets. there is no quicker way of making changes; but there is a counterbalancing difficulty. it is hard to find the divine love of temperance and justice existing in any powerful form of government, whether in a monarchy or an oligarchy. in olden days there were chiefs like nestor, who was the most eloquent and temperate of mankind, but there is no one his equal now. if such an one ever arises among us, blessed will he be, and blessed they who listen to his words. for where power and wisdom and temperance meet in one, there are the best laws and constitutions. i am endeavouring to show you how easy under the conditions supposed, and how difficult under any other, is the task of giving a city good laws. 'how do you mean?' let us old men attempt to mould in words a constitution for your new state, as children make figures out of wax. 'proceed. what constitution shall we give--democracy, oligarchy, or aristocracy?' to which of these classes, megillus, do you refer your own state? 'the spartan constitution seems to me to contain all these elements. our state is a democracy and also an aristocracy; the power of the ephors is tyrannical, and we have an ancient monarchy.' 'much the same,' adds cleinias, 'may be said of cnosus.' the reason is that you have polities, but other states are mere aggregations of men dwelling together, which are named after their several ruling powers; whereas a state, if an 'ocracy' at all, should be called a theocracy. a tale of old will explain my meaning. there is a tradition of a golden age, in which all things were spontaneous and abundant. cronos, then lord of the world, knew that no mortal nature could endure the temptations of power, and therefore he appointed demons or demi-gods, who are of a superior race, to have dominion over man, as man has dominion over the animals. they took care of us with great ease and pleasure to themselves, and no less to us; and the tradition says that only when god, and not man, is the ruler, can the human race cease from ill. this was the manner of life which prevailed under cronos, and which we must strive to follow so far as the principle of immortality still abides in us and we live according to law and the dictates of right reason. but in an oligarchy or democracy, when the governing principle is athirst for pleasure, the laws are trampled under foot, and there is no possibility of salvation. is it not often said that there are as many forms of laws as there are governments, and that they have no concern either with any one virtue or with all virtue, but are relative to the will of the government? which is as much as to say that 'might makes right.' 'what do you mean?' i mean that governments enact their own laws, and that every government makes self-preservation its principal aim. he who transgresses the laws is regarded as an evil-doer, and punished accordingly. this was one of the unjust principles of government which we mentioned when speaking of the different claims to rule. we were agreed that parents should rule their children, the elder the younger, the noble the ignoble. but there were also several other principles, and among them pindar's 'law of violence.' to whom then is our state to be entrusted? for many a government is only a victorious faction which has a monopoly of power, and refuses any share to the conquered, lest when they get into office they should remember their wrongs. such governments are not polities, but parties; nor are any laws good which are made in the interest of particular classes only, and not of the whole. and in our state i mean to protest against making any man a ruler because he is rich, or strong, or noble. but those who are obedient to the laws, and who win the victory of obedience, shall be promoted to the service of the gods according to the degree of their obedience. when i call the ruler the servant or minister of the law, this is not a mere paradox, but i mean to say that upon a willingness to obey the law the existence of the state depends. 'truly, stranger, you have a keen vision.' why, yes; every man when he is old has his intellectual vision most keen. and now shall we call in our colonists and make a speech to them? friends, we say to them, god holds in his hand the beginning, middle, and end of all things, and he moves in a straight line towards the accomplishment of his will. justice always bears him company, and punishes those who fall short of his laws. he who would be happy follows humbly in her train; but he who is lifted up with pride, or wealth, or honour, or beauty, is soon deserted by god, and, being deserted, he lives in confusion and disorder. to many he seems a great man; but in a short time he comes to utter destruction. wherefore, seeing these things, what ought we to do or think? 'every man ought to follow god.' what life, then, is pleasing to god? there is an old saying that 'like agrees with like, measure with measure,' and god ought to be our measure in all things. the temperate man is the friend of god because he is like him, and the intemperate man is not his friend, because he is not like him. and the conclusion is, that the best of all things for a good man is to pray and sacrifice to the gods; but the bad man has a polluted soul; and therefore his service is wasted upon the gods, while the good are accepted of them. i have told you the mark at which we ought to aim. you will say, how, and with what weapons? in the first place we affirm, that after the olympian gods and the gods of the state, honour should be given to the gods below, and to them should be offered everything in even numbers and of the second choice; the auspicious odd numbers and everything of the first choice are reserved for the gods above. next demi-gods or spirits must be honoured, and then heroes, and after them family gods, who will be worshipped at their local seats according to law. further, the honour due to parents should not be forgotten; children owe all that they have to them, and the debt must be repaid by kindness and attention in old age. no unbecoming word must be uttered before them; for there is an avenging angel who hears them when they are angry, and the child should consider that the parent when he has been wronged has a right to be angry. after their death let them have a moderate funeral, such as their fathers have had before them; and there shall be an annual commemoration of them. living on this wise, we shall be accepted of the gods, and shall pass our days in good hope. the law will determine all our various duties towards relatives and friends and other citizens, and the whole state will be happy and prosperous. but if the legislator would persuade as well as command, he will add prefaces to his laws which will predispose the citizens to virtue. even a little accomplished in the way of gaining the hearts of men is of great value. for most men are in no particular haste to become good. as hesiod says: 'long and steep is the first half of the way to virtue, but when you have reached the top the rest is easy.' 'those are excellent words.' yes; but may i tell you the effect which the preceding discourse has had upon me? i will express my meaning in an address to the lawgiver:--o lawgiver, if you know what we ought to do and say, you can surely tell us;--you are not like the poet, who, as you were just now saying, does not know the effect of his own words. and the poet may reply, that when he sits down on the tripod of the muses he is not in his right mind, and that being a mere imitator he may be allowed to say all sorts of opposite things, and cannot tell which of them is true. but this licence cannot be allowed to the lawgiver. for example, there are three kinds of funerals; one of them is excessive, another mean, a third moderate, and you say that the last is right. now if i had a rich wife, and she told me to bury her, and i were to sing of her burial, i should praise the extravagant kind; a poor man would commend a funeral of the meaner sort, and a man of moderate means would prefer a moderate funeral. but you, as legislator, would have to say exactly what you meant by 'moderate.' 'very true.' and is our lawgiver to have no preamble or interpretation of his laws, never offering a word of advice to his subjects, after the manner of some doctors? for of doctors are there not two kinds? the one gentle and the other rough, doctors who are freemen and learn themselves and teach their pupils scientifically, and doctor's assistants who get their knowledge empirically by attending on their masters? 'of course there are.' and did you ever observe that the gentlemen doctors practise upon freemen, and that slave doctors confine themselves to slaves? the latter go about the country or wait for the slaves at the dispensaries. they hold no parley with their patients about their diseases or the remedies of them; they practise by the rule of thumb, and give their decrees in the most arbitrary manner. when they have doctored one patient they run off to another, whom they treat with equal assurance, their duty being to relieve the master of the care of his sick slaves. but the other doctor, who practises on freemen, proceeds in quite a different way. he takes counsel with his patient and learns from him, and never does anything until he has persuaded him of what he is doing. he trusts to influence rather than force. now is not the use of both methods far better than the use of either alone? and both together may be advantageously employed by us in legislation. we may illustrate our proposal by an example. the laws relating to marriage naturally come first, and therefore we may begin with them. the simple law would be as follows:--a man shall marry between the ages of thirty and thirty-five; if he do not, he shall be fined or deprived of certain privileges. the double law would add the reason why: forasmuch as man desires immortality, which he attains by the procreation of children, no one should deprive himself of his share in this good. he who obeys the law is blameless, but he who disobeys must not be a gainer by his celibacy; and therefore he shall pay a yearly fine, and shall not be allowed to receive honour from the young. that is an example of what i call the double law, which may enable us to judge how far the addition of persuasion to threats is desirable. 'lacedaemonians in general, stranger, are in favour of brevity; in this case, however, i prefer length. but cleinias is the real lawgiver, and he ought to be first consulted.' 'thank you, megillus.' whether words are to be many or few, is a foolish question:--the best and not the shortest forms are always to be approved. and legislators have never thought of the advantages which they might gain by using persuasion as well as force, but trust to force only. and i have something else to say about the matter. here have we been from early dawn until noon, discoursing about laws, and all that we have been saying is only the preamble of the laws which we are about to give. i tell you this, because i want you to observe that songs and strains have all of them preludes, but that laws, though called by the same name (nomoi), have never any prelude. now i am disposed to give preludes to laws, dividing them into two parts--one containing the despotic command, which i described under the image of the slave doctor--the other the persuasive part, which i term the preamble. the legislator should give preludes or preambles to his laws. 'that shall be the way in my colony.' i am glad that you agree with me; this is a matter which it is important to remember. a preamble is not always necessary to a law: the lawgiver must determine when it is needed, as the musician determines when there is to be a prelude to a song. 'most true: and now, having a preamble, let us recommence our discourse.' enough has been said of gods and parents, and we may proceed to consider what relates to the citizens--their souls, bodies, properties,--their occupations and amusements; and so arrive at the nature of education. the first word of the laws somewhat abruptly introduces the thought which is present to the mind of plato throughout the work, namely, that law is of divine origin. in the words of a great english writer--'her seat is the bosom of god, her voice the harmony of the world.' though the particular laws of sparta and crete had a narrow and imperfect aim, this is not true of divine laws, which are based upon the principles of human nature, and not framed to meet the exigencies of the moment. they have their natural divisions, too, answering to the kinds of virtue; very unlike the discordant enactments of an athenian assembly or of an english parliament. yet we may observe two inconsistencies in plato's treatment of the subject: first, a lesser, inasmuch as he does not clearly distinguish the cretan and spartan laws, of which the exclusive aim is war, from those other laws of zeus and apollo which are said to be divine, and to comprehend all virtue. secondly, we may retort on him his own complaint against sparta and crete, that he has himself given us a code of laws, which for the most part have a military character; and that we cannot point to 'obvious examples of similar institutions which are concerned with pleasure;' at least there is only one such, that which relates to the regulation of convivial intercourse. the military spirit which is condemned by him in the beginning of the laws, reappears in the seventh and eighth books. the mention of minos the great lawgiver, and of rhadamanthus the righteous administrator of the law, suggests the two divisions of the laws into enactments and appointments of officers. the legislator and the judge stand side by side, and their functions cannot be wholly distinguished. for the judge is in some sort a legislator, at any rate in small matters; and his decisions growing into precedents, must determine the innumerable details which arise out of the conflict of circumstances. these plato proposes to leave to a younger generation of legislators. the action of courts of law in making law seems to have escaped him, probably because the athenian law-courts were popular assemblies; and, except in a mythical form, he can hardly be said to have had before his eyes the ideal of a judge. in reading the laws of plato, or any other ancient writing about laws, we should consider how gradual the process is by which not only a legal system, but the administration of a court of law, becomes perfected. there are other subjects on which plato breaks ground, as his manner is, early in the work. first, he gives a sketch of the subject of laws; they are to comprehend the whole of human life, from infancy to age, and from birth to death, although the proposed plan is far from being regularly executed in the books which follow, partly owing to the necessity of describing the constitution as well as the laws of his new colony. secondly, he touches on the power of music, which may exercise so great an influence on the character of men for good or evil; he refers especially to the great offence--which he mentions again, and which he had condemned in the republic--of varying the modes and rhythms, as well as to that of separating the words from the music. thirdly, he reprobates the prevalence of unnatural loves in sparta and crete, which he attributes to the practice of syssitia and gymnastic exercises, and considers to be almost inseparable from them. to this subject he again returns in the eighth book. fourthly, the virtues are affirmed to be inseparable from one another, even if not absolutely one; this, too, is a principle which he reasserts at the conclusion of the work. as in the beginnings of plato's other writings, we have here several 'notes' struck, which form the preludes of longer discussions, although the hint is less ingeniously given, and the promise more imperfectly fulfilled than in the earlier dialogues. the distinction between ethics and politics has not yet dawned upon plato's mind. to him, law is still floating in a region between the two. he would have desired that all the acts and laws of a state should have regard to all virtue. but he did not see that politics and law are subject to their own conditions, and are distinguished from ethics by natural differences. the actions of which politics take cognisance are necessarily collective or representative; and law is limited to external acts which affect others as well as the agents. ethics, on the other hand, include the whole duty of man in relation both to himself and others. but plato has never reflected on these differences. he fancies that the life of the state can be as easily fashioned as that of the individual. he is favourable to a balance of power, but never seems to have considered that power might be so balanced as to produce an absolute immobility in the state. nor is he alive to the evils of confounding vice and crime; or to the necessity of governments abstaining from excessive interference with their subjects. yet this confusion of ethics and politics has also a better and a truer side. if unable to grasp some important distinctions, plato is at any rate seeking to elevate the lower to the higher; he does not pull down the principles of men to their practice, or narrow the conception of the state to the immediate necessities of politics. political ideals of freedom and equality, of a divine government which has been or will be in some other age or country, have greatly tended to educate and ennoble the human race. and if not the first author of such ideals (for they are as old as hesiod), plato has done more than any other writer to impress them on the world. to those who censure his idealism we may reply in his own words--'he is not the worse painter who draws a perfectly beautiful figure, because no such figure of a man could ever have existed' (republic). a new thought about education suddenly occurs to him, and for a time exercises a sort of fascination over his mind, though in the later books of the laws it is forgotten or overlooked. as true courage is allied to temperance, so there must be an education which shall train mankind to resist pleasure as well as to endure pain. no one can be on his guard against that of which he has no experience. the perfectly trained citizen should have been accustomed to look his enemy in the face, and to measure his strength against her. this education in pleasure is to be given, partly by festive intercourse, but chiefly by the song and dance. youth are to learn music and gymnastics; their elders are to be trained and tested at drinking parties. according to the old proverb, in vino veritas, they will then be open and visible to the world in their true characters; and also they will be more amenable to the laws, and more easily moulded by the hand of the legislator. the first reason is curious enough, though not important; the second can hardly be thought deserving of much attention. yet if plato means to say that society is one of the principal instruments of education in after-life, he has expressed in an obscure fashion a principle which is true, and to his contemporaries was also new. that at a banquet a degree of moral discipline might be exercised is an original thought, but plato has not yet learnt to express his meaning in an abstract form. he is sensible that moderation is better than total abstinence, and that asceticism is but a one-sided training. he makes the sagacious remark, that 'those who are able to resist pleasure may often be among the worst of mankind.' he is as much aware as any modern utilitarian that the love of pleasure is the great motive of human action. this cannot be eradicated, and must therefore be regulated,--the pleasure must be of the right sort. such reflections seem to be the real, though imperfectly expressed, groundwork of the discussion. as in the juxtaposition of the bacchic madness and the great gift of dionysus, or where he speaks of the different senses in which pleasure is and is not the object of imitative art, or in the illustration of the failure of the dorian institutions from the prayer of theseus, we have to gather his meaning as well as we can from the connexion. the feeling of old age is discernible in this as well as in several other passages of the laws. plato has arrived at the time when men sit still and look on at life; and he is willing to allow himself and others the few pleasures which remain to them. wine is to cheer them now that their limbs are old and their blood runs cold. they are the best critics of dancing and music, but cannot be induced to join in song unless they have been enlivened by drinking. youth has no need of the stimulus of wine, but age can only be made young again by its invigorating influence. total abstinence for the young, moderate and increasing potations for the old, is plato's principle. the fire, of which there is too much in the one, has to be brought to the other. drunkenness, like madness, had a sacredness and mystery to the greek; if, on the one hand, as in the case of the tarentines, it degraded a whole population, it was also a mode of worshipping the god dionysus, which was to be practised on certain occasions. moreover, the intoxication produced by the fruit of the vine was very different from the grosser forms of drunkenness which prevail among some modern nations. the physician in modern times would restrict the old man's use of wine within narrow limits. he would tell us that you cannot restore strength by a stimulus. wine may call back the vital powers in disease, but cannot reinvigorate old age. in his maxims of health and longevity, though aware of the importance of a simple diet, plato has omitted to dwell on the perfect rule of moderation. his commendation of wine is probably a passing fancy, and may have arisen out of his own habits or tastes. if so, he is not the only philosopher whose theory has been based upon his practice. plato's denial of wine to the young and his approval of it for their elders has some points of view which may be illustrated by the temperance controversy of our own times. wine may be allowed to have a religious as well as a festive use; it is commended both in the old and new testament; it has been sung of by nearly all poets; and it may be truly said to have a healing influence both on body and mind. yet it is also very liable to excess and abuse, and for this reason is prohibited by mahometans, as well as of late years by many christians, no less than by the ancient spartans; and to sound its praises seriously seems to partake of the nature of a paradox. but we may rejoin with plato that the abuse of a good thing does not take away the use of it. total abstinence, as we often say, is not the best rule, but moderate indulgence; and it is probably true that a temperate use of wine may contribute some elements of character to social life which we can ill afford to lose. it draws men out of their reserve; it helps them to forget themselves and to appear as they by nature are when not on their guard, and therefore to make them more human and greater friends to their fellow-men. it gives them a new experience; it teaches them to combine self-control with a measure of indulgence; it may sometimes restore to them the simplicity of childhood. we entirely agree with plato in forbidding the use of wine to the young; but when we are of mature age there are occasions on which we derive refreshment and strength from moderate potations. it is well to make abstinence the rule, but the rule may sometimes admit of an exception. we are in a higher, as well as in a lower sense, the better for the use of wine. the question runs up into wider ones--what is the general effect of asceticism on human nature? and, must there not be a certain proportion between the aspirations of man and his powers?--questions which have been often discussed both by ancient and modern philosophers. so by comparing things old and new we may sometimes help to realize to ourselves the meaning of plato in the altered circumstances of our own life. like the importance which he attaches to festive entertainments, his depreciation of courage to the fourth place in the scale of virtue appears to be somewhat rhetorical and exaggerated. but he is speaking of courage in the lower sense of the term, not as including loyalty or temperance. he does not insist in this passage, as in the protagoras, on the unity of the virtues; or, as in the laches, on the identity of wisdom and courage. but he says that they all depend upon their leader mind, and that, out of the union of wisdom and temperance with courage, springs justice. elsewhere he is disposed to regard temperance rather as a condition of all virtue than as a particular virtue. he generalizes temperance, as in the republic he generalizes justice. the nature of the virtues is to run up into one another, and in many passages plato makes but a faint effort to distinguish them. he still quotes the poets, somewhat enlarging, as his manner is, or playing with their meaning. the martial poet tyrtaeus, and the oligarch theognis, furnish him with happy illustrations of the two sorts of courage. the fear of fear, the division of goods into human and divine, the acknowledgment that peace and reconciliation are better than the appeal to the sword, the analysis of temperance into resistance of pleasure as well as endurance of pain, the distinction between the education which is suitable for a trade or profession, and for the whole of life, are important and probably new ethical conceptions. nor has plato forgotten his old paradox (gorgias) that to be punished is better than to be unpunished, when he says, that to the bad man death is the only mitigation of his evil. he is not less ideal in many passages of the laws than in the gorgias or republic. but his wings are heavy, and he is unequal to any sustained flight. there is more attempt at dramatic effect in the first book than in the later parts of the work. the outburst of martial spirit in the lacedaemonian, 'o best of men'; the protest which the cretan makes against the supposed insult to his lawgiver; the cordial acknowledgment on the part of both of them that laws should not be discussed publicly by those who live under their rule; the difficulty which they alike experience in following the speculations of the athenian, are highly characteristic. in the second book, plato pursues further his notion of educating by a right use of pleasure. he begins by conceiving an endless power of youthful life, which is to be reduced to rule and measure by harmony and rhythm. men differ from the lower animals in that they are capable of musical discipline. but music, like all art, must be truly imitative, and imitative of what is true and good. art and morality agree in rejecting pleasure as the criterion of good. true art is inseparable from the highest and most ennobling ideas. plato only recognizes the identity of pleasure and good when the pleasure is of the higher kind. he is the enemy of 'songs without words,' which he supposes to have some confusing or enervating effect on the mind of the hearer; and he is also opposed to the modern degeneracy of the drama, which he would probably have illustrated, like aristophanes, from euripides and agathon. from this passage may be gathered a more perfect conception of art than from any other of plato's writings. he understands that art is at once imitative and ideal, an exact representation of truth, and also a representation of the highest truth. the same double view of art may be gathered from a comparison of the third and tenth books of the republic, but is here more clearly and pointedly expressed. we are inclined to suspect that both here and in the republic plato exaggerates the influence really exercised by the song and the dance. but we must remember also the susceptible nature of the greek, and the perfection to which these arts were carried by him. further, the music had a sacred and pythagorean character; the dance too was part of a religious festival. and only at such festivals the sexes mingled in public, and the youths passed under the eyes of their elders. at the beginning of the third book, plato abruptly asks the question, what is the origin of states? the answer is, infinite time. we have already seen--in the theaetetus, where he supposes that in the course of ages every man has had numberless progenitors, kings and slaves, greeks and barbarians; and in the critias, where he says that nine thousand years have elapsed since the island of atlantis fought with athens--that plato is no stranger to the conception of long periods of time. he imagines human society to have been interrupted by natural convulsions; and beginning from the last of these, he traces the steps by which the family has grown into the state, and the original scattered society, becoming more and more civilised, has finally passed into military organizations like those of crete and sparta. his conception of the origin of states is far truer in the laws than in the republic; but it must be remembered that here he is giving an historical, there an ideal picture of the growth of society. modern enquirers, like plato, have found in infinite ages the explanation not only of states, but of languages, men, animals, the world itself; like him, also, they have detected in later institutions the vestiges of a patriarchal state still surviving. thus far plato speaks as 'the spectator of all time and all existence,' who may be thought by some divine instinct to have guessed at truths which were hereafter to be revealed. he is far above the vulgar notion that hellas is the civilized world (statesman), or that civilization only began when the hellenes appeared on the scene. but he has no special knowledge of 'the days before the flood'; and when he approaches more historical times, in preparing the way for his own theory of mixed government, he argues partially and erroneously. he is desirous of showing that unlimited power is ruinous to any state, and hence he is led to attribute a tyrannical spirit to the first dorian kings. the decay of argos and the destruction of messene are adduced by him as a manifest proof of their failure; and sparta, he thinks, was only preserved by the limitations which the wisdom of successive legislators introduced into the government. but there is no more reason to suppose that the dorian rule of life which was followed at sparta ever prevailed in argos and messene, than to assume that dorian institutions were framed to protect the greeks against the power of assyria; or that the empire of assyria was in any way affected by the trojan war; or that the return of the heraclidae was only the return of achaean exiles, who received a new name from their leader dorieus. such fancies were chiefly based, as far as they had any foundation, on the use of analogy, which played a great part in the dawn of historical and geographical research. because there was a persian empire which was the natural enemy of the greek, there must also have been an assyrian empire, which had a similar hostility; and not only the fable of the island of atlantis, but the trojan war, in plato's mind derived some features from the persian struggle. so herodotus makes the nile answer to the ister, and the valley of the nile to the red sea. in the republic, plato is flying in the air regardless of fact and possibility--in the laws, he is making history by analogy. in the former, he appears to be like some modern philosophers, absolutely devoid of historical sense; in the latter, he is on a level, not with thucydides, or the critical historians of greece, but with herodotus, or even with ctesias. the chief object of plato in tracing the origin of society is to show the point at which regular government superseded the patriarchical authority, and the separate customs of different families were systematized by legislators, and took the form of laws consented to by them all. according to plato, the only sound principle on which any government could be based was a mixture or balance of power. the balance of power saved sparta, when the two other heraclid states fell into disorder. here is probably the first trace of a political idea, which has exercised a vast influence both in ancient and modern times. and yet we might fairly ask, a little parodying the language of plato--o legislator, is unanimity only 'the struggle for existence'; or is the balance of powers in a state better than the harmony of them? in the fourth book we approach the realities of politics, and plato begins to ascend to the height of his great argument. the reign of cronos has passed away, and various forms of government have succeeded, which are all based on self-interest and self-preservation. right and wrong, instead of being measured by the will of god, are created by the law of the state. the strongest assertions are made of the purely spiritual nature of religion--'without holiness no man is accepted of god'; and of the duty of filial obedience,--'honour thy parents.' the legislator must teach these precepts as well as command them. he is to be the educator as well as the lawgiver of future ages, and his laws are themselves to form a part of the education of the state. unlike the poet, he must be definite and rational; he cannot be allowed to say one thing at one time, and another thing at another--he must know what he is about. and yet legislation has a poetical or rhetorical element, and must find words which will wing their way to the hearts of men. laws must be promulgated before they are put in execution, and mankind must be reasoned with before they are punished. the legislator, when he promulgates a particular law, will courteously entreat those who are willing to hear his voice. upon the rebellious only does the heavy blow descend. a sermon and a law in one, blending the secular punishment with the religious sanction, appeared to plato a new idea which might have a great result in reforming the world. the experiment had never been tried of reasoning with mankind; the laws of others had never had any preambles, and plato seems to have great pleasure in contemplating his discovery. in these quaint forms of thought and language, great principles of morals and legislation are enunciated by him for the first time. they all go back to mind and god, who holds the beginning, middle, and end of all things in his hand. the adjustment of the divine and human elements in the world is conceived in the spirit of modern popular philosophy, differing not much in the mode of expression. at first sight the legislator appears to be impotent, for all things are the sport of chance. but we admit also that god governs all things, and that chance and opportunity co-operate with him (compare the saying, that chance is the name of the unknown cause). lastly, while we acknowledge that god and chance govern mankind and provide the conditions of human action, experience will not allow us to deny a place to art. we know that there is a use in having a pilot, though the storm may overwhelm him; and a legislator is required to provide for the happiness of a state, although he will pray for favourable conditions under which he may exercise his art. book v. hear now, all ye who heard the laws about gods and ancestors: of all human possessions the soul is most divine, and most truly a man's own. for in every man there are two parts--a better which rules, and an inferior which serves; and the ruler is to be preferred to the servant. wherefore i bid every one next after the gods to honour his own soul, and he can only honour her by making her better. a man does not honour his soul by flattery, or gifts, or self-indulgence, or conceit of knowledge, nor when he blames others for his own errors; nor when he indulges in pleasure or refuses to bear pain; nor when he thinks that life at any price is a good, because he fears the world below, which, far from being an evil, may be the greatest good; nor when he prefers beauty to virtue--not reflecting that the soul, which came from heaven, is more honourable than the body, which is earth-born; nor when he covets dishonest gains, of which no amount is equal in value to virtue;--in a word, when he counts that which the legislator pronounces evil to be good, he degrades his soul, which is the divinest part of him. he does not consider that the real punishment of evil-doing is to grow like evil men, and to shun the conversation of the good: and that he who is joined to such men must do and suffer what they by nature do and say to one another, which suffering is not justice but retribution. for justice is noble, but retribution is only the companion of injustice. and whether a man escapes punishment or not, he is equally miserable; for in the one case he is not cured, and in the other case he perishes that the rest may be saved. the glory of man is to follow the better and improve the inferior. and the soul is that part of man which is most inclined to avoid the evil and dwell with the good. wherefore also the soul is second only to the gods in honour, and in the third place the body is to be esteemed, which often has a false honour. for honour is not to be given to the fair or the strong, or the swift or the tall, or to the healthy, any more than to their opposites, but to the mean states of all these habits; and so of property and external goods. no man should heap up riches that he may leave them to his children. the best condition for them as for the state is a middle one, in which there is a freedom without luxury. and the best inheritance of children is modesty. but modesty cannot be implanted by admonition only--the elders must set the example. he who would train the young must first train himself. he who honours his kindred and family may fairly expect that the gods will give him children. he who would have friends must think much of their favours to him, and little of his to them. he who prefers to an olympic, or any other victory, to win the palm of obedience to the laws, serves best both the state and his fellow-citizens. engagements with strangers are to be deemed most sacred, because the stranger, having neither kindred nor friends, is immediately under the protection of zeus, the god of strangers. a prudent man will not sin against the stranger; and still more carefully will he avoid sinning against the suppliant, which is an offence never passed over by the gods. i will now speak of those particulars which are matters of praise and blame only, and which, although not enforced by the law, greatly affect the disposition to obey the law. truth has the first place among the gifts of gods and men, for truth begets trust; but he is not to be trusted who loves voluntary falsehood, and he who loves involuntary falsehood is a fool. neither the ignorant nor the untrustworthy man is happy; for they have no friends in life, and die unlamented and untended. good is he who does no injustice--better who prevents others from doing any--best of all who joins the rulers in punishing injustice. and this is true of goods and virtues in general; he who has and communicates them to others is the man of men; he who would, if he could, is second-best; he who has them and is jealous of imparting them to others is to be blamed, but the good or virtue which he has is to be valued still. let every man contend in the race without envy; for the unenvious man increases the strength of the city; himself foremost in the race, he harms no one with calumny. whereas the envious man is weak himself, and drives his rivals to despair with his slanders, thus depriving the whole city of incentives to the exercise of virtue, and tarnishing her glory. every man should be gentle, but also passionate; for he must have the spirit to fight against incurable and malignant evil. but the evil which is remediable should be dealt with more in sorrow than anger. he who is unjust is to be pitied in any case; for no man voluntarily does evil or allows evil to exist in his soul. and therefore he who deals with the curable sort must be long-suffering and forbearing; but the incurable shall have the vials of our wrath poured out upon him. the greatest of all evils is self-love, which is thought to be natural and excusable, and is enforced as a duty, and yet is the cause of many errors. the lover is blinded about the beloved, and prefers his own interests to truth and right; but the truly great man seeks justice before all things. self-love is the source of that ignorant conceit of knowledge which is always doing and never succeeding. wherefore let every man avoid self-love, and follow the guidance of those who are better than himself. there are lesser matters which a man should recall to mind; for wisdom is like a stream, ever flowing in and out, and recollection flows in when knowledge is failing. let no man either laugh or grieve overmuch; but let him control his feelings in the day of good- or ill-fortune, believing that the gods will diminish the evils and increase the blessings of the righteous. these are thoughts which should ever occupy a good man's mind; he should remember them both in lighter and in more serious hours, and remind others of them. so much of divine matters and the relation of man to god. but man is man, and dependent on pleasure and pain; and therefore to acquire a true taste respecting either is a great matter. and what is a true taste? this can only be explained by a comparison of one life with another. pleasure is an object of desire, pain of avoidance; and the absence of pain is to be preferred to pain, but not to pleasure. there are infinite kinds and degrees of both of them, and we choose the life which has more pleasure and avoid that which has less; but we do not choose that life in which the elements of pleasure are either feeble or equally balanced with pain. all the lives which we desire are pleasant; the choice of any others is due to inexperience. now there are four lives--the temperate, the rational, the courageous, the healthful; and to these let us oppose four others--the intemperate, the foolish, the cowardly, the diseased. the temperate life has gentle pains and pleasures and placid desires, the intemperate life has violent delights, and still more violent desires. and the pleasures of the temperate exceed the pains, while the pains of the intemperate exceed the pleasures. but if this is true, none are voluntarily intemperate, but all who lack temperance are either ignorant or wanting in self-control: for men always choose the life which (as they think) exceeds in pleasure. the wise, the healthful, the courageous life have a similar advantage--they also exceed their opposites in pleasure. and, generally speaking, the life of virtue is far more pleasurable and honourable, fairer and happier far, than the life of vice. let this be the preamble of our laws; the strain will follow. as in a web the warp is stronger than the woof, so should the rulers be stronger than their half-educated subjects. let us suppose, then, that in the constitution of a state there are two parts, the appointment of the rulers, and the laws which they have to administer. but, before going further, there are some preliminary matters which have to be considered. as of animals, so also of men, a selection must be made; the bad breed must be got rid of, and the good retained. the legislator must purify them, and if he be not a despot he will find this task to be a difficult one. the severer kinds of purification are practised when great offenders are punished by death or exile, but there is a milder process which is necessary when the poor show a disposition to attack the property of the rich, for then the legislator will send them off to another land, under the name of a colony. in our case, however, we shall only need to purify the streams before they meet. this is often a troublesome business, but in theory we may suppose the operation performed, and the desired purity attained. evil men we will hinder from coming, and receive the good as friends. like the old heraclid colony, we are fortunate in escaping the abolition of debts and the distribution of land, which are difficult and dangerous questions. but, perhaps, now that we are speaking of the subject, we ought to say how, if the danger existed, the legislator should try to avert it. he would have recourse to prayers, and trust to the healing influence of time. he would create a kindly spirit between creditors and debtors: those who have should give to those who have not, and poverty should be held to be rather the increase of a man's desires than the diminution of his property. good-will is the only safe and enduring foundation of the political society; and upon this our city shall be built. the lawgiver, if he is wise, will not proceed with the arrangement of the state until all disputes about property are settled. and for him to introduce fresh grounds of quarrel would be madness. let us now proceed to the distribution of our state, and determine the size of the territory and the number of the allotments. the territory should be sufficient to maintain the citizens in moderation, and the population should be numerous enough to defend themselves, and sometimes to aid their neighbours. we will fix the number of citizens at , to which the number of houses and portions of land shall correspond. let the number be divided into two parts and then into three; for it is very convenient for the purposes of distribution, and is capable of fifty-nine divisions, ten of which proceed without interval from one to ten. here are numbers enough for war and peace, and for all contracts and dealings. these properties of numbers are true, and should be ascertained with a view to use. in carrying out the distribution of the land, a prudent legislator will be careful to respect any provision for religious worship which has been sanctioned by ancient tradition or by the oracles of delphi, dodona, or ammon. all sacrifices, and altars, and temples, whatever may be their origin, should remain as they are. every division should have a patron god or hero; to these a portion of the domain should be appropriated, and at their temples the inhabitants of the districts should meet together from time to time, for the sake of mutual help and friendship. all the citizens of a state should be known to one another; for where men are in the dark about each other's characters, there can be no justice or right administration. every man should be true and single-minded, and should not allow himself to be deceived by others. and now the game opens, and we begin to move the pieces. at first sight, our constitution may appear singular and ill-adapted to a legislator who has not despotic power; but on second thoughts will be deemed to be, if not the very best, the second best. for there are three forms of government, a first, a second, and a third best, out of which cleinias has now to choose. the first and highest form is that in which friends have all things in common, including wives and property,--in which they have common fears, hopes, desires, and do not even call their eyes or their hands their own. this is the ideal state; than which there never can be a truer or better--a state, whether inhabited by gods or sons of gods, which will make the dwellers therein blessed. here is the pattern on which we must ever fix our eyes; but we are now concerned with another, which comes next to it, and we will afterwards proceed to a third. inasmuch as our citizens are not fitted either by nature or education to receive the saying, friends have all things in common, let them retain their houses and private property, but use them in the service of their country, who is their god and parent, and of the gods and demigods of the land. their first care should be to preserve the number of their lots. this may be secured in the following manner: when the possessor of a lot dies, he shall leave his lot to his best-beloved child, who will become the heir of all duties and interests, and will minister to the gods and to the family, to the living and to the dead. of the remaining children, the females must be given in marriage according to the law to be hereafter enacted; the males may be assigned to citizens who have no children of their own. how to equalize families and allotments will be one of the chief cares of the guardians of the laws. when parents have too many children they may give to those who have none, or couples may abstain from having children, or, if there is a want of offspring, special care may be taken to obtain them; or if the number of citizens becomes excessive, we may send away the surplus to found a colony. if, on the other hand, a war or plague diminishes the number of inhabitants, new citizens must be introduced; and these ought not, if possible, to be men of low birth or inferior training; but even god, it is said, cannot always fight against necessity. wherefore we will thus address our citizens:--good friends, honour order and equality, and above all the number . secondly, respect the original division of the lots, which must not be infringed by buying and selling, for the law says that the land which a man has is sacred and is given to him by god. and priests and priestesses will offer frequent sacrifices and pray that he who alienates either house or lot may receive the punishment which he deserves, and their prayers shall be inscribed on tablets of cypress-wood for the instruction of posterity. the guardians will keep a vigilant watch over the citizens, and they will punish those who disobey god and the law. to appreciate the benefit of such an institution a man requires to be well educated; for he certainly will not make a fortune in our state, in which all illiberal occupations are forbidden to freemen. the law also provides that no private person shall have gold or silver, except a little coin for daily use, which will not pass current in other countries. the state must also possess a common hellenic currency, but this is only to be used in defraying the expenses of expeditions, or of embassies, or while a man is on foreign travels; but in the latter case he must deliver up what is over, when he comes back, to the treasury in return for an equal amount of local currency, on pain of losing the sum in question; and he who does not inform against an offender is to be mulcted in a like sum. no money is to be given or taken as a dowry, or to be lent on interest. the law will not protect a man in recovering either interest or principal. all these regulations imply that the aim of the legislator is not to make the city as rich or as mighty as possible, but the best and happiest. now men can hardly be at the same time very virtuous and very rich. and why? because he who makes twice as much and saves twice as much as he ought, receiving where he ought not and not spending where he ought, will be at least twice as rich as he who makes money where he ought, and spends where he ought. on the other hand, an utterly bad man is generally profligate and poor, while he who acquires honestly, and spends what he acquires on noble objects, can hardly be very rich. a very rich man is therefore not a good man, and therefore not a happy one. but the object of our laws is to make the citizens as friendly and happy as possible, which they cannot be if they are always at law and injuring each other in the pursuit of gain. and therefore we say that there is to be no silver or gold in the state, nor usury, nor the rearing of the meaner kinds of live-stock, but only agriculture, and only so much of this as will not lead men to neglect that for the sake of which money is made, first the soul and afterwards the body; neither of which are good for much without music and gymnastic. money is to be held in honour last or third; the highest interests being those of the soul, and in the second class are to be ranked those of the body. this is the true order of legislation, which would be inverted by placing health before temperance, and wealth before health. it might be well if every man could come to the colony having equal property; but equality is impossible, and therefore we must avoid causes of offence by having property valued and by equalizing taxation. to this end, let us make four classes in which the citizens may be placed according to the measure of their original property, and the changes of their fortune. the greatest of evils is revolution; and this, as the law will say, is caused by extremes of poverty or wealth. the limit of poverty shall be the lot, which must not be diminished, and may be increased fivefold, but not more. he who exceeds the limit must give up the excess to the state; but if he does not, and is informed against, the surplus shall be divided between the informer and the gods, and he shall pay a sum equal to the surplus out of his own property. all property other than the lot must be inscribed in a register, so that any disputes which arise may be easily determined. the city shall be placed in a suitable situation, as nearly as possible in the centre of the country, and shall be divided into twelve wards. first, we will erect an acropolis, encircled by a wall, within which shall be placed the temples of hestia, and zeus, and athene. from this shall be drawn lines dividing the city, and also the country, into twelve sections, and the country shall be subdivided into lots. each lot shall contain two parts, one at a distance, the other near the city; and the distance of one part shall be compensated by the nearness of the other, the badness and goodness by the greater or less size. twelve lots will be assigned to twelve gods, and they will give their names to the tribes. the divisions of the city shall correspond to those of the country; and every man shall have two habitations, one near the centre of the country, the other at the extremity. the objection will naturally arise, that all the advantages of which we have been speaking will never concur. the citizens will not tolerate a settlement in which they are deprived of gold and silver, and have the number of their families regulated, and the sites of their houses fixed by law. it will be said that our city is a mere image of wax. and the legislator will answer: 'i know it, but i maintain that we ought to set forth an ideal which is as perfect as possible. if difficulties arise in the execution of the plan, we must avoid them and carry out the remainder. but the legislator must first be allowed to complete his idea without interruption.' the number twelve, which we have chosen for the number of division, must run through all parts of the state,--phratries, villages, ranks of soldiers, coins, and measures wet and dry, which are all to be made commensurable with one another. there is no meanness in requiring that the smallest vessels should have a common measure; for the divisions of number are useful in measuring height and depth, as well as sounds and motions, upwards or downwards, or round and round. the legislator should impress on his citizens the value of arithmetic. no instrument of education has so much power; nothing more tends to sharpen and inspire the dull intellect. but the legislator must be careful to instil a noble and generous spirit into the students, or they will tend to become cunning rather than wise. this may be proved by the example of the egyptians and phoenicians, who, notwithstanding their knowledge of arithmetic, are degraded in their general character; whether this defect in them is due to some natural cause or to a bad legislator. for it is clear that there are great differences in the power of regions to produce good men: heat and cold, and water and food, have great effects both on body and soul; and those spots are peculiarly fortunate in which the air is holy, and the gods are pleased to dwell. to all this the legislator must attend, so far as in him lies. book vi. and now we are about to consider ( ) the appointment of magistrates; ( ) the laws which they will have to administer must be determined. i may observe by the way that laws, however good, are useless and even injurious unless the magistrates are capable of executing them. and therefore ( ) the intended rulers of our imaginary state should be tested from their youth upwards until the time of their election; and ( ) those who are to elect them ought to be trained in habits of law, that they may form a right judgment of good and bad men. but uneducated colonists, who are unacquainted with each other, will not be likely to choose well. what, then, shall we do? i will tell you: the colony will have to be intrusted to the ten commissioners, of whom you are one, and i will help you and them, which is my reason for inventing this romance. and i cannot bear that the tale should go wandering about the world without a head,--it will be such an ugly monster. 'very good.' yes; and i will be as good as my word, if god be gracious and old age permit. but let us not forget what a courageously mad creation this our city is. 'what makes you say so?' why, surely our courage is shown in imagining that the new colonists will quietly receive our laws? for no man likes to receive laws when they are first imposed: could we only wait until those who had been educated under them were grown up, and of an age to vote in the public elections, there would be far greater reason to expect permanence in our institutions. 'very true.' the cnosian founders should take the utmost pains in the matter of the colony, and in the election of the higher officers, particularly of the guardians of the law. the latter should be appointed in this way: the cnosians, who take the lead in the colony, together with the colonists, will choose thirty-seven persons, of whom nineteen will be colonists, and the remaining eighteen cnosians--you must be one of the eighteen yourself, and become a citizen of the new state. 'why do not you and megillus join us?' athens is proud, and sparta too; and they are both a long way off. but let me proceed with my scheme. when the state is permanently established, the mode of election will be as follows: all who are serving, or have served, in the army will be electors; and the election will be held in the most sacred of the temples. the voter will place on the altar a tablet, inscribing thereupon the name of the candidate whom he prefers, and of his father, tribe, and ward, writing at the side of them his own name in like manner; and he may take away any tablet which does not appear written to his mind, and place it in the agora for thirty days. the who obtain the greatest number of votes will be publicly announced, and out of them there will be a second election of ; and out of the a third and final election of thirty-seven, accompanied by the solemnity of the electors passing through victims. but then who is to arrange all this? there is a common saying, that the beginning is half the whole; and i should say a good deal more than half. 'most true.' the only way of making a beginning is from the parent city; and though in after ages the tie may be broken, and quarrels may arise between them, yet in early days the child naturally looks to the mother for care and education. and, as i said before, the cnosians ought to take an interest in the colony, and select elders of their own citizens, to whom shall be added of the colonists, to arrange and supervise the first elections and scrutinies; and when the colony has been started, the cnosians may return home and leave the colonists to themselves. the thirty-seven magistrates who have been elected in the manner described, shall have the following duties: first, they shall be guardians of the law; secondly, of the registers of property in the four classes--not including the one, two, three, four minae, which are allowed as a surplus. he who is found to possess what is not entered in the registers, in addition to the confiscation of such property shall be proceeded against by law, and if he be cast he shall lose his share in the public property and in distributions of money; and his sentence shall be inscribed in some public place. the guardians are to continue in office twenty years only, and to commence holding office at fifty years, or if elected at sixty they are not to remain after seventy. generals have now to be elected, and commanders of horse and brigadiers of foot. the generals shall be natives of the city, proposed by the guardians of the law, and elected by those who are or have been of the age for military service. any one may challenge the person nominated and start another candidate, whom he affirms upon oath to be better qualified. the three who obtain the greatest number of votes shall be elected. the generals thus elected shall propose the taxiarchs or brigadiers, and the challenge may be made, and the voting shall take place, in the same manner as before. the elective assembly will be presided over in the first instance, and until the prytanes and council come into being, by the guardians of the law in some holy place; and they shall divide the citizens into three divisions,--hoplites, cavalry, and the rest of the army--placing each of them by itself. all are to vote for generals and cavalry officers. the brigadiers are to be voted for only by the hoplites. next, the cavalry are to choose phylarchs for the generals; but captains of archers and other irregular troops are to be appointed by the generals themselves. the cavalry-officers shall be proposed and voted upon by the same persons who vote for the generals. the two who have the greatest number of votes shall be leaders of all the horse. disputes about the voting may be raised once or twice, but, if a third time, the presiding officers shall decide. the council shall consist of , who may be conveniently divided into four sections, making ninety councillors of each class. in the first place, all the citizens shall select candidates from the first class; and they shall be compelled to vote under pain of a fine. this shall be the business of the first day. on the second day a similar selection shall be made from the second class under the same conditions. on the third day, candidates shall be selected from the third class; but the compulsion to vote shall only extend to the voters of the first three classes. on the fourth day, members of the council shall be selected from the fourth class; they shall be selected by all, but the compulsion to vote shall only extend to the second class, who, if they do not vote, shall pay a fine of triple the amount which was exacted at first, and to the first class, who shall pay a quadruple fine. on the fifth day, the names shall be exhibited, and out of them shall be chosen by all the citizens of each class: these are severally to be reduced by lot to ninety, and x will form the council for the year. the mode of election which has been described is a mean between monarchy and democracy, and such a mean should ever be observed in the state. for servants and masters cannot be friends, and, although equality makes friendship, we must remember that there are two sorts of equality. one of them is the rule of number and measure; but there is also a higher equality, which is the judgment of zeus. of this he grants but little to mortal men; yet that little is the source of the greatest good to cities and individuals. it is proportioned to the nature of each man; it gives more to the better and less to the inferior, and is the true political justice; to this we in our state desire to look, as every legislator should, not to the interests either of tyrants or mobs. but justice cannot always be strictly enforced, and then equity and mercy have to be substituted: and for a similar reason, when true justice will not be endured, we must have recourse to the rougher justice of the lot, which god must be entreated to guide. these are the principal means of preserving the state, but perpetual care will also be required. when a ship is sailing on the sea, vigilance must not be relaxed night or day; and the vessel of state is tossing in a political sea, and therefore watch must continually succeed watch, and rulers must join hands with rulers. a small body will best perform this duty, and therefore the greater part of the senators may be permitted to go and manage their own affairs, but a twelfth portion must be set aside in each month for the administration of the state. their business will be to receive information and answer embassies; also they must endeavour to prevent or heal internal disorders; and with this object they must have the control of all assemblies of the citizens. besides the council, there must be wardens of the city and of the agora, who will superintend houses, ways, harbours, markets, and fountains, in the city and the suburbs, and prevent any injury being done to them by man or beast. the temples, also, will require priests and priestesses. those who hold the priestly office by hereditary tenure shall not be disturbed; but as there will probably be few or none such in a new colony, priests and priestesses shall be appointed for the gods who have no servants. some of these officers shall be elected by vote, some by lot; and all classes shall mingle in a friendly manner at the elections. the appointment of priests should be left to god,--that is, to the lot; but the person elected must prove that he is himself sound in body and of legitimate birth, and that his family has been free from homicide or any other stain of impurity. priests and priestesses are to be not less than sixty years of age, and shall hold office for a year only. the laws which are to regulate matters of religion shall be brought from delphi, and interpreters appointed to superintend their execution. these shall be elected in the following manner:--the twelve tribes shall be formed into three bodies of four, each of which shall select four candidates, and this shall be done three times: of each twelve thus selected the three who receive the largest number of votes, nine in all, after undergoing a scrutiny shall go to delphi, in order that the god may elect one out of each triad. they shall be appointed for life; and when any of them dies, another shall be elected by the four tribes who made the original appointment. there shall also be treasurers of the temples; three for the greater temples, two for the lesser, and one for those of least importance. the defence of the city should be committed to the generals and other officers of the army, and to the wardens of the city and agora. the defence of the country shall be on this wise:--the twelve tribes shall allot among themselves annually the twelve divisions of the country, and each tribe shall appoint five wardens and commanders of the watch. the five wardens in each division shall choose out of their own tribe twelve guards, who are to be between twenty-five and thirty years of age. both the wardens and the guards are to serve two years; and they shall make a round of the divisions, staying a month in each. they shall go from west to east during the first year, and back from east to west during the second. thus they will gain a perfect knowledge of the country at every season of the year. while on service, their first duty will be to see that the country is well protected by means of fortifications and entrenchments; they will use the beasts of burden and the labourers whom they find on the spot, taking care however not to interfere with the regular course of agriculture. but while they thus render the country as inaccessible as possible to enemies, they will also make it as accessible as possible to friends by constructing and maintaining good roads. they will restrain and preserve the rain which comes down from heaven, making the barren places fertile, and the wet places dry. they will ornament the fountains with plantations and buildings, and provide water for irrigation at all seasons of the year. they will lead the streams to the temples and groves of the gods; and in such spots the youth shall make gymnasia for themselves, and warm baths for the aged; there the rustic worn with toil will receive a kindly welcome, and be far better treated than at the hands of an unskilful doctor. these works will be both useful and ornamental; but the sixty wardens must not fail to give serious attention to other duties. for they must watch over the districts assigned to them, and also act as judges. in small matters the five commanders shall decide: in greater matters up to three minae, the five commanders and the twelve guards. like all other judges, except those who have the final decision, they shall be liable to give an account. if the wardens impose unjust tasks on the villagers, or take by force their crops or implements, or yield to flattery or bribes in deciding suits, let them be publicly dishonoured. in regard to any other wrong-doing, if the question be of a mina, let the neighbours decide; but if the accused person will not submit, trusting that his monthly removals will enable him to escape payment, and also in suits about a larger amount, the injured party may have recourse to the common court; in the former case, if successful, he may exact a double penalty. the wardens and guards, while on their two years' service, shall live and eat together, and the guard who is absent from the daily meals without permission or sleeps out at night, shall be regarded as a deserter, and may be punished by any one who meets him. if any of the commanders is guilty of such an irregularity, the whole sixty shall have him punished; and he of them who screens him shall suffer a still heavier penalty than the offender himself. now by service a man learns to rule; and he should pride himself upon serving well the laws and the gods all his life, and upon having served ancient and honourable men in his youth. the twelve and the five should be their own servants, and use the labour of the villagers only for the good of the public. let them search the country through, and acquire a perfect knowledge of every locality; with this view, hunting and field sports should be encouraged. next we have to speak of the elections of the wardens of the agora and of the city. the wardens of the city shall be three in number, and they shall have the care of the streets, roads, buildings, and also of the water-supply. they shall be chosen out of the highest class, and when the number of candidates has been reduced to six who have the greatest number of votes, three out of the six shall be taken by lot, and, after a scrutiny, shall be admitted to their office. the wardens of the agora shall be five in number--ten are to be first elected, and every one shall vote for all the vacant places; the ten shall be afterwards reduced to five by lot, as in the former election. the first and second class shall be compelled to go to the assembly, but not the third and fourth, unless they are specially summoned. the wardens of the agora shall have the care of the temples and fountains which are in the agora, and shall punish those who injure them by stripes and bonds, if they be slaves or strangers; and by fines, if they be citizens. and the wardens of the city shall have a similar power of inflicting punishment and fines in their own department. in the next place, there must be directors of music and gymnastic; one class of them superintending gymnasia and schools, and the attendance and lodging of the boys and girls--the other having to do with contests of music and gymnastic. in musical contests there shall be one kind of judges of solo singing or playing, who will judge of rhapsodists, flute-players, harp-players and the like, and another of choruses. there shall be choruses of men and boys and maidens--one director will be enough to introduce them all, and he should not be less than forty years of age; secondly, of solos also there shall be one director, aged not less than thirty years; he will introduce the competitors and give judgment upon them. the director of the choruses is to be elected in an assembly at which all who take an interest in music are compelled to attend, and no one else. candidates must only be proposed for their fitness, and opposed on the ground of unfitness. ten are to be elected by vote, and the one of these on whom the lot falls shall be director for a year. next shall be elected out of the second and third classes the judges of gymnastic contests, who are to be three in number, and are to be tested, after being chosen by lot out of twenty who have been elected by the three highest classes--these being compelled to attend at the election. one minister remains, who will have the general superintendence of education. he must be not less than fifty years old, and be himself the father of children born in wedlock. his office must be regarded by all as the highest in the state. for the right growth of the first shoot in plants and animals is the chief cause of matured perfection. man is supposed to be a tame animal, but he becomes either the gentlest or the fiercest of creatures, accordingly as he is well or ill educated. wherefore he who is elected to preside over education should be the best man possible. he shall hold office for five years, and shall be elected out of the guardians of the law, by the votes of the other magistrates with the exception of the senate and prytanes; and the election shall be held by ballot in the temple of apollo. when a magistrate dies before his term of office has expired, another shall be elected in his place; and, if the guardian of an orphan dies, the relations shall appoint another within ten days, or be fined a drachma a day for neglect. the city which has no courts of law will soon cease to be a city; and a judge who sits in silence and leaves the enquiry to the litigants, as in arbitrations, is not a good judge. a few judges are better than many, but the few must be good. the matter in dispute should be clearly elicited; time and examination will find out the truth. causes should first be tried before a court of neighbours: if the decision is unsatisfactory, let them be referred to a higher court; or, if necessary, to a higher still, of which the decision shall be final. every magistrate is a judge, and every judge is a magistrate, on the day on which he is deciding the suit. this will therefore be an appropriate place to speak of judges and their functions. the supreme tribunal will be that on which the litigants agree; and let there be two other tribunals, one for public and the other for private causes. the high court of appeal shall be composed as follows:--all the officers of state shall meet on the last day but one of the year in some temple, and choose for a judge the best man out of every magistracy: and those who are elected, after they have undergone a scrutiny, shall be judges of appeal. they shall give their decisions openly, in the presence of the magistrates who have elected them; and the public may attend. if anybody charges one of them with having intentionally decided wrong, he shall lay his accusation before the guardians of the law, and if the judge be found guilty he shall pay damages to the extent of half the injury, unless the guardians of the law deem that he deserves a severer punishment, in which case the judges shall assess the penalty. as the whole people are injured by offences against the state, they should share in the trial of them. such causes should originate with the people and be decided by them: the enquiry shall take place before any three of the highest magistrates upon whom the defendant and plaintiff can agree. also in private suits all should judge as far as possible, and therefore there should be a court of law in every ward; for he who has no share in the administration of justice, believes that he has no share in the state. the judges in these courts shall be elected by lot and give their decision at once. the final judgment in all cases shall rest with the court of appeal. and so, having done with the appointment of courts and the election of officers, we will now make our laws. 'your way of proceeding, stranger, is admirable.' then so far our old man's game of play has gone off well. 'say, rather, our serious and noble pursuit.' perhaps; but let me ask you whether you have ever observed the manner in which painters put in and rub out colour: yet their endless labour will last but a short time, unless they leave behind them some successor who will restore the picture and remove its defects. 'certainly.' and have we not a similar object at the present moment? we are old ourselves, and therefore we must leave our work of legislation to be improved and perfected by the next generation; not only making laws for our guardians, but making them lawgivers. 'we must at least do our best.' let us address them as follows. beloved saviours of the laws, we give you an outline of legislation which you must fill up, according to a rule which we will prescribe for you. megillus and cleinias and i are agreed, and we hope that you will agree with us in thinking, that the whole energies of a man should be devoted to the attainment of manly virtue, whether this is to be gained by study, or habit, or desire, or opinion. and rather than accept institutions which tend to degrade and enslave him, he should fly his country and endure any hardship. these are our principles, and we would ask you to judge of our laws, and praise or blame them, accordingly as they are or are not capable of improving our citizens. and first of laws concerning religion. we have already said that the number has many convenient divisions: and we took a twelfth part of this ( ), which is itself divisible by twelve, for the number of the tribe. every divisor is a gift of god, and corresponds to the months of the year and to the revolution of the universe. all cities have a number, but none is more fortunate than our own, which can be divided by all numbers up to , with the exception of , and even by , if two families are deducted. and now let us divide the state, assigning to each division some god or demigod, who shall have altars raised to them, and sacrifices offered twice a month; and assemblies shall be held in their honour, twelve for the tribes, and twelve for the city, corresponding to their divisions. the object of them will be first to promote religion, secondly to encourage friendship and intercourse between families; for families must be acquainted before they marry into one another, or great mistakes will occur. at these festivals there shall be innocent dances of young men and maidens, who may have the opportunity of seeing one another in modest undress. to the details of all this the masters of choruses and the guardians will attend, embodying in laws the results of their experience; and, after ten years, making the laws permanent, with the consent of the legislator, if he be alive, or, if he be not alive, of the guardians of the law, who shall perfect them and settle them once for all. at least, if any further changes are required, the magistrates must take the whole people into counsel, and obtain the sanction of all the oracles. whenever any one who is between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five wants to marry, let him do so; but first let him hear the strain which we will address to him:-- my son, you ought to marry, but not in order to gain wealth or to avoid poverty; neither should you, as men are wont to do, choose a wife who is like yourself in property and character. you ought to consult the interests of the state rather than your own pleasure; for by equal marriages a society becomes unequal. and yet to enact a law that the rich and mighty shall not marry the rich and mighty, that the quick shall be united to the slow, and the slow to the quick, will arouse anger in some persons and laughter in others; for they do not understand that opposite elements ought to be mingled in the state, as wine should be mingled with water. the object at which we aim must therefore be left to the influence of public opinion. and do not forget our former precept, that every one should seek to attain immortality and raise up a fair posterity to serve god.--let this be the prelude of the law about the duty of marriage. but if a man will not listen, and at thirty-five years of age is still unmarried, he shall pay an annual fine: if he be of the first class, drachmas; if of the second, ; if of the third, ; and if of the fourth, . this fine shall be sacred to here; and if he refuse to pay, a tenfold penalty shall be exacted by the treasurer of here, who shall be responsible for the payment. further, the unmarried man shall receive no honour or obedience from the young, and he shall not retain the right of punishing others. a man is neither to give nor receive a dowry beyond a certain fixed sum; in our state, for his consolation, if he be poor, let him know that he need neither receive nor give one, for every citizen is provided with the necessaries of life. again, if the woman is not rich, her husband will not be her humble servant. he who disobeys this law shall pay a fine according to his class, which shall be exacted by the treasurers of here and zeus. the betrothal of the parties shall be made by the next of kin, or if there are none, by the guardians. the offerings and ceremonies of marriage shall be determined by the interpreters of sacred rites. let the wedding party be moderate; five male and five female friends, and a like number of kinsmen, will be enough. the expense should not exceed, for the first class, a mina; and for the second, half a mina; and should be in like proportion for the other classes. extravagance is to be regarded as vulgarity and ignorance of nuptial proprieties. much wine is only to be drunk at the festivals of dionysus, and certainly not on the occasion of a marriage. the bride and bridegroom, who are taking a great step in life, ought to have all their wits about them; they should be especially careful of the night on which god may give them increase, and which this will be none can say. their bodies and souls should be in the most temperate condition; they should abstain from all that partakes of the nature of disease or vice, which will otherwise become hereditary. there is an original divinity in man which preserves all things, if used with proper respect. he who marries should make one of the two houses on the lot the nest and nursery of his young; he should leave his father and mother, and then his affection for them will be only increased by absence. he will go forth as to a colony, and will there rear up his offspring, handing on the torch of life to another generation. about property in general there is little difficulty, with the exception of property in slaves, which is an institution of a very doubtful character. the slavery of the helots is approved by some and condemned by others; and there is some doubt even about the slavery of the mariandynians at heraclea and of the thessalian penestae. this makes us ask, what shall we do about slaves? to which every one would agree in replying,--let us have the best and most attached whom we can get. all of us have heard stories of slaves who have been better to their masters than sons or brethren. yet there is an opposite doctrine, that slaves are never to be trusted; as homer says, 'slavery takes away half a man's understanding.' and different persons treat them in different ways: there are some who never trust them, and beat them like dogs, until they make them many times more slavish than they were before; and others pursue the opposite plan. man is a troublesome animal, as has been often shown, megillus, notably in the revolts of the messenians; and great mischiefs have arisen in countries where there are large bodies of slaves of one nationality. two rules may be given for their management: first that they should not, if possible, be of the same country or have a common language; and secondly, that they should be treated by their master with more justice even than equals, out of regard to himself quite as much as to them. for he who is righteous in the treatment of his slaves, or of any inferiors, will sow in them the seed of virtue. masters should never jest with their slaves: this, which is a common but foolish practice, increases the difficulty and painfulness of managing them. next as to habitations. these ought to have been spoken of before; for no man can marry a wife, and have slaves, who has not a house for them to live in. let us supply the omission. the temples should be placed round the agora, and the city built in a circle on the heights. near the temples, which are holy places and the habitations of the gods, should be buildings for the magistrates, and the courts of law, including those in which capital offences are to be tried. as to walls, megillus, i agree with sparta that they should sleep in the earth; 'cold steel is the best wall,' as the poet finely says. besides, how absurd to be sending out our youth to fortify and guard the borders of our country, and then to build a city wall, which is very unhealthy, and is apt to make people fancy that they may run there and rest in idleness, not knowing that true repose comes from labour, and that idleness is only a renewal of trouble. if, however, there must be a wall, the private houses had better be so arranged as to form one wall; this will have an agreeable aspect, and the building will be safer and more defensible. these objects should be attended to at the foundation of the city. the wardens of the city must see that they are carried out; and they must also enforce cleanliness, and preserve the public buildings from encroachments. moreover, they must take care to let the rain flow off easily, and must regulate other matters concerning the general administration of the city. if any further enactments prove to be necessary, the guardians of the law must supply them. and now, having provided buildings, and having married our citizens, we will proceed to speak of their mode of life. in a well-constituted state, individuals cannot be allowed to live as they please. why do i say this? because i am going to enact that the bridegroom shall not absent himself from the common meals. they were instituted originally on the occasion of some war, and, though deemed singular when first founded, they have tended greatly to the security of states. there was a difficulty in introducing them, but there is no difficulty in them now. there is, however, another institution about which i would speak, if i dared. i may preface my proposal by remarking that disorder in a state is the source of all evil, and order of all good. now in sparta and crete there are common meals for men, and this, as i was saying, is a divine and natural institution. but the women are left to themselves; they live in dark places, and, being weaker, and therefore wickeder, than men, they are at the bottom of a good deal more than half the evil of states. this must be corrected, and the institution of common meals extended to both sexes. but, in the present unfortunate state of opinion, who would dare to establish them? and still more, who can compel women to eat and drink in public? they will defy the legislator to drag them out of their holes. and in any other state such a proposal would be drowned in clamour, but in our own i think that i can show the attempt to be just and reasonable. 'there is nothing which we should like to hear better.' listen, then; having plenty of time, we will go back to the beginning of things, which is an old subject with us. 'right.' either the race of mankind never had a beginning and will never have an end, or the time which has elapsed since man first came into being is all but infinite. 'no doubt.' and in this infinity of time there have been changes of every kind, both in the order of the seasons and in the government of states and in the customs of eating and drinking. vines and olives were at length discovered, and the blessings of demeter and persephone, of which one triptolemus is said to have been the minister; before his time the animals had been eating one another. and there are nations in which mankind still sacrifice their fellow-men, and other nations in which they lead a kind of orphic existence, and will not sacrifice animals, or so much as taste of a cow--they offer fruits or cakes moistened with honey. perhaps you will ask me what is the bearing of these remarks? 'we would gladly hear.' i will endeavour to explain their drift. i see that the virtue of human life depends on the due regulation of three wants or desires. the first is the desire of meat, the second of drink; these begin with birth, and make us disobedient to any voice other than that of pleasure. the third and fiercest and greatest need is felt latest; this is love, which is a madness setting men's whole nature on fire. these three disorders of mankind we must endeavour to restrain by three mighty influences--fear, and law, and reason, which, with the aid of the muses and the gods of contests, may extinguish our lusts. but to return. after marriage let us proceed to the generation of children, and then to their nurture and education--thus gradually approaching the subject of syssitia. there are, however, some other points which are suggested by the three words--meat, drink, love. 'proceed,' the bride and bridegroom ought to set their mind on having a brave offspring. now a man only succeeds when he takes pains; wherefore the bridegroom ought to take special care of the bride, and the bride of the bridegroom, at the time when their children are about to be born. and let there be a committee of matrons who shall meet every day at the temple of eilithyia at a time fixed by the magistrates, and inform against any man or woman who does not observe the laws of married life. the time of begetting children and the supervision of the parents shall last for ten years only; if at the expiration of this period they have no children, they may part, with the consent of their relatives and the official matrons, and with a due regard to the interests of either; if a dispute arise, ten of the guardians of the law shall be chosen as arbiters. the matrons shall also have power to enter the houses of the young people, if necessary, and to advise and threaten them. if their efforts fail, let them go to the guardians of the law; and if they too fail, the offender, whether man or woman, shall be forbidden to be present at all family ceremonies. if when the time for begetting children has ceased, either husband or wife have connexion with others who are of an age to beget children, they shall be liable to the same penalties as those who are still having a family. but when both parties have ceased to beget children there shall be no penalties. if men and women live soberly, the enactments of law may be left to slumber; punishment is necessary only when there is great disorder of manners. the first year of children's lives is to be registered in their ancestral temples; the name of the archon of the year is to be inscribed on a whited wall in every phratry, and the names of the living members of the phratry close to them, to be erased at their decease. the proper time of marriage for a woman shall be from sixteen years to twenty; for a man, from thirty to thirty-five (compare republic). the age of holding office for a woman is to be forty, for a man thirty years. the time for military service for a man is to be from twenty years to sixty; for a woman, from the time that she has ceased to bear children until fifty. book vii. now that we have married our citizens and brought their children into the world, we have to find nurture and education for them. this is a matter of precept rather than of law, and cannot be precisely regulated by the legislator. for minute regulations are apt to be transgressed, and frequent transgressions impair the habit of obedience to the laws. i speak darkly, but i will also try to exhibit my wares in the light of day. am i not right in saying that a good education tends to the improvement of body and mind? 'certainly.' and the body is fairest which grows up straight and well-formed from the time of birth. 'very true.' and we observe that the first shoot of every living thing is the greatest; many even contend that man is not at twenty-five twice the height that he was at five. 'true.' and growth without exercise of the limbs is the source of endless evils in the body. 'yes.' the body should have the most exercise when growing most. 'what, the bodies of young infants?' nay, the bodies of unborn infants. i should like to explain to you this singular kind of gymnastics. the athenians are fond of cock-fighting, and the people who keep cocks carry them about in their hands or under their arms, and take long walks, to improve, not their own health, but the health of the birds. here is a proof of the usefulness of motion, whether of rocking, swinging, riding, or tossing upon the wave; for all these kinds of motion greatly increase strength and the powers of digestion. hence we infer that our women, when they are with child, should walk about and fashion the embryo; and the children, when born, should be carried by strong nurses,--there must be more than one of them,--and should not be suffered to walk until they are three years old. shall we impose penalties for the neglect of these rules? the greatest penalty, that is, ridicule, and the difficulty of making the nurses do as we bid them, will be incurred by ourselves. 'then why speak of such matters?' in the hope that heads of families may learn that the due regulation of them is the foundation of law and order in the state. and now, leaving the body, let us proceed to the soul; but we must first repeat that perpetual motion by night and by day is good for the young creature. this is proved by the corybantian cure of motion, and by the practice of nurses who rock children in their arms, lapping them at the same time in sweet strains. and the reason of this is obvious. the affections, both of the bacchantes and of the children, arise from fear, and this fear is occasioned by something wrong which is going on within them. now a violent external commotion tends to calm the violent internal one; it quiets the palpitation of the heart, giving to the children sleep, and bringing back the bacchantes to their right minds by the help of dances and acceptable sacrifices. but if fear has such power, will not a child who is always in a state of terror grow up timid and cowardly, whereas if he learns from the first to resist fear he will develop a habit of courage? 'very true.' and we may say that the use of motion will inspire the souls of children with cheerfulness and therefore with courage. 'of course.' softness enervates and irritates the temper of the young, and violence renders them mean and misanthropical. 'but how is the state to educate them when they are as yet unable to understand the meaning of words?' why, surely they roar and cry, like the young of any other animal, and the nurse knows the meaning of these intimations of the child's likes or dislikes, and the occasions which call them forth. about three years is passed by children in a state of imperfect articulation, which is quite long enough time to make them either good- or ill-tempered. and, therefore, during these first three years, the infant should be as free as possible from fear and pain. 'yes, and he should have as much pleasure as possible.' there, i think, you are wrong; for the influence of pleasure in the beginning of education is fatal. a man should neither pursue pleasure nor wholly avoid pain. he should embrace the mean, and cultivate that state of calm which mankind, taught by some inspiration, attribute to god; and he who would be like god should neither be too fond of pleasure himself, nor should he permit any other to be thus given; above all, not the infant, whose character is just in the making. it may sound ridiculous, but i affirm that a woman in her pregnancy should be carefully tended, and kept from excessive pleasures and pains. 'i quite agree with you about the duty of avoiding extremes and following the mean.' let us consider a further point. the matters which are now in question are generally called customs rather than laws; and we have already made the reflection that, though they are not, properly speaking, laws, yet neither can they be neglected. for they fill up the interstices of law, and are the props and ligatures on which the strength of the whole building depends. laws without customs never last; and we must not wonder if habit and custom sometimes lengthen out our laws. 'very true.' up to their third year, then, the life of children may be regulated by customs such as we have described. from three to six their minds have to be amused; but they must not be allowed to become self-willed and spoilt. if punishment is necessary, the same rule will hold as in the case of slaves; they must neither be punished in hot blood nor ruined by indulgence. the children of that age will have their own modes of amusing themselves; they should be brought for their play to the village temples, and placed under the care of nurses, who will be responsible to twelve matrons annually chosen by the women who have authority over marriage. these shall be appointed, one out of each tribe, and their duty shall be to keep order at the meetings: slaves who break the rules laid down by them, they shall punish by the help of some of the public slaves; but citizens who dispute their authority shall be brought before the magistrates. after six years of age there shall be a separation of the sexes; the boys will go to learn riding and the use of arms, and the girls may, if they please, also learn. here i note a practical error in early training. mothers and nurses foolishly believe that the left hand is by nature different from the right, whereas the left leg and foot are acknowledged to be the same as the right. but the truth is that nature made all things to balance, and the power of using the left hand, which is of little importance in the case of the plectrum of the lyre, may make a great difference in the art of the warrior, who should be a skilled gymnast and able to fight and balance himself in any position. if a man were a briareus, he should use all his hundred hands at once; at any rate, let everybody employ the two which they have. to these matters the magistrates, male and female, should attend; the women superintending the nursing and amusement of the children, and the men superintending their education, that all of them, boys and girls alike, may be sound, wind and limb, and not spoil the gifts of nature by bad habits. education has two branches--gymnastic, which is concerned with the body; and music, which improves the soul. and gymnastic has two parts, dancing and wrestling. of dancing one kind imitates musical recitation and aims at stateliness and freedom; another kind is concerned with the training of the body, and produces health, agility, and beauty. there is no military use in the complex systems of wrestling which pass under the names of antaeus and cercyon, or in the tricks of boxing, which are attributed to amycus and epeius; but good wrestling and the habit of extricating the neck, hands, and sides, should be diligently learnt and taught. in our dances imitations of war should be practised, as in the dances of the curetes in crete and of the dioscuri at sparta, or as in the dances in complete armour which were taught us athenians by the goddess athene. youths who are not yet of an age to go to war should make religious processions armed and on horseback; and they should also engage in military games and contests. these exercises will be equally useful in peace and war, and will benefit both states and families. next follows music, to which we will once more return; and here i shall venture to repeat my old paradox, that amusements have great influence on laws. he who has been taught to play at the same games and with the same playthings will be content with the same laws. there is no greater evil in a state than the spirit of innovation. in the case of the seasons and winds, in the management of our bodies and in the habits of our minds, change is a dangerous thing. and in everything but what is bad the same rule holds. we all venerate and acquiesce in the laws to which we are accustomed; and if they have continued during long periods of time, and there is no remembrance of their ever having been otherwise, people are absolutely afraid to change them. now how can we create this quality of immobility in the laws? i say, by not allowing innovations in the games and plays of children. the children who are always having new plays, when grown up will be always having new laws. changes in mere fashions are not serious evils, but changes in our estimate of men's characters are most serious; and rhythms and music are representations of characters, and therefore we must avoid novelties in dance and song. for securing permanence no better method can be imagined than that of the egyptians. 'what is their method?' they make a calendar for the year, arranging on what days the festivals of the various gods shall be celebrated, and for each festival they consecrate an appropriate hymn and dance. in our state a similar arrangement shall in the first instance be framed by certain individuals, and afterwards solemnly ratified by all the citizens. he who introduces other hymns or dances shall be excluded by the priests and priestesses and the guardians of the law; and if he refuses to submit, he may be prosecuted for impiety. but we must not be too ready to speak about such great matters. even a young man, when he hears something unaccustomed, stands and looks this way and that, like a traveller at a place where three ways meet; and at our age a man ought to be very sure of his ground in so singular an argument. 'very true.' then, leaving the subject for further examination at some future time, let us proceed with our laws about education, for in this manner we may probably throw light upon our present difficulty. 'let us do as you say.' the ancients used the term nomoi to signify harmonious strains, and perhaps they fancied that there was a connexion between the songs and laws of a country. and we say--whosoever shall transgress the strains by law established is a transgressor of the laws, and shall be punished by the guardians of the law and by the priests and priestesses. 'very good.' how can we legislate about these consecrated strains without incurring ridicule? moulds or types must be first framed, and one of the types shall be--abstinence from evil words at sacrifices. when a son or brother blasphemes at a sacrifice there is a sound of ill-omen heard in the family; and many a chorus stands by the altar uttering inauspicious words, and he is crowned victor who excites the hearers most with lamentations. such lamentations should be reserved for evil days, and should be uttered only by hired mourners; and let the singers not wear circlets or ornaments of gold. to avoid every evil word, then, shall be our first type. 'agreed.' our second law or type shall be, that prayers ever accompany sacrifices; and our third, that, inasmuch as all prayers are requests, they shall be only for good; this the poets must be made to understand. 'certainly.' have we not already decided that no gold or silver plutus shall be allowed in our city? and did not this show that we were dissatisfied with the poets? and may we not fear that, if they are allowed to utter injudicious prayers, they will bring the greatest misfortunes on the state? and we must therefore make a law that the poet is not to contradict the laws or ideas of the state; nor is he to show his poems to any private persons until they have first received the imprimatur of the director of education. a fourth musical law will be to the effect that hymns and praises shall be offered to gods, and to heroes and demigods. still another law will permit eulogies of eminent citizens, whether men or women, but only after their death. as to songs and dances, we will enact as follows:--there shall be a selection made of the best ancient musical compositions and dances; these shall be chosen by judges, who ought not to be less than fifty years of age. they will accept some, and reject or amend others, for which purpose they will call, if necessary, the poets themselves into council. the severe and orderly music is the style in which to educate children, who, if they are accustomed to this, will deem the opposite kind to be illiberal, but if they are accustomed to the other, will count this to be cold and unpleasing. 'true.' further, a distinction should be made between the melodies of men and women. nature herself teaches that the grand or manly style should be assigned to men, and to women the moderate and temperate. so much for the subjects of education. but to whom are they to be taught, and when? i must try, like the shipwright, who lays down the keel of a vessel, to build a secure foundation for the vessel of the soul in her voyage through life. human affairs are hardly serious, and yet a sad necessity compels us to be serious about them. let us, therefore, do our best to bring the matter to a conclusion. 'very good.' i say then, that god is the object of a man's most serious endeavours. but man is created to be the plaything of the gods; and therefore the aim of every one should be to pass through life, not in grim earnest, but playing at the noblest of pastimes, in another spirit from that which now prevails. for the common opinion is, that work is for the sake of play, war of peace; whereas in war there is neither amusement nor instruction worth speaking of. the life of peace is that which men should chiefly desire to lengthen out and improve. they should live sacrificing, singing, and dancing, with the view of propitiating gods and heroes. i have already told you the types of song and dance which they should follow: and 'some things,' as the poet well says, 'you will devise for yourself--others, god will suggest to you.' these words of his may be applied to our pupils. they will partly teach themselves, and partly will be taught by god, the art of propitiating him; for they are his puppets, and have only a small portion in truth. 'you have a poor opinion of man.' no wonder, when i compare him with god; but, if you are offended, i will place him a little higher. next follow the building for gymnasia and schools; these will be in the midst of the city, and outside will be riding-schools and archery-grounds. in all of them there ought to be instructors of the young, drawn from foreign parts by pay, and they will teach them music and war. education shall be compulsory; the children must attend school, whether their parents like it or not; for they belong to the state more than to their parents. and i say further, without hesitation, that the same education in riding and gymnastic shall be given both to men and women. the ancient tradition about the amazons confirms my view, and at the present day there are myriads of women, called sauromatides, dwelling near the pontus, who practise the art of riding as well as archery and the use of arms. but if i am right, nothing can be more foolish than our modern fashion of training men and women differently, whereby the power the city is reduced to a half. for reflect--if women are not to have the education of men, some other must be found for them, and what other can we propose? shall they, like the women of thrace, tend cattle and till the ground; or, like our own, spin and weave, and take care of the house? or shall they follow the spartan custom, which is between the two?--there the maidens share in gymnastic exercises and in music; and the grown women, no longer engaged in spinning, weave the web of life, although they are not skilled in archery, like the amazons, nor can they imitate our warrior goddess and carry shield or spear, even in the extremity of their country's need. compared with our women, the sauromatides are like men. but your legislators, megillus, as i maintain, only half did their work; they took care of the men, and left the women to take care of themselves. 'shall we suffer the stranger, cleinias, to run down sparta in this way?' 'why, yes; for we cannot withdraw the liberty which we have already conceded to him.' what will be the manner of life of men in moderate circumstances, freed from the toils of agriculture and business, and having common tables for themselves and their families which are under the inspection of magistrates, male and female? are men who have these institutions only to eat and fatten like beasts? if they do, how can they escape the fate of a fatted beast, which is to be torn in pieces by some other beast more valiant than himself? true, theirs is not the perfect way of life, for they have not all things in common; but the second best way of life also confers great blessings. even those who live in the second state have a work to do twice as great as the work of any pythian or olympic victor; for their labour is for the body only, but ours both for body and soul. and this higher work ought to be pursued night and day to the exclusion of every other. the magistrates who keep the city should be wakeful, and the master of the household should be up early and before all his servants; and the mistress, too, should awaken her handmaidens, and not be awakened by them. much sleep is not required either for our souls or bodies. when a man is asleep, he is no better than if he were dead; and he who loves life and wisdom will take no more sleep than is necessary for health. magistrates who are wide awake at night are terrible to the bad; but they are honoured by the good, and are useful to themselves and the state. when the morning dawns, let the boy go to school. as the sheep need the shepherd, so the boy needs a master; for he is at once the most cunning and the most insubordinate of creatures. let him be taken away from mothers and nurses, and tamed with bit and bridle, being treated as a freeman in that he learns and is taught, but as a slave in that he may be chastised by all other freemen; and the freeman who neglects to chastise him shall be disgraced. all these matters will be under the supervision of the director of education. him we will address as follows: we have spoken to you, o illustrious teacher of youth, of the song, the time, and the dance, and of martial strains; but of the learning of letters and of prose writings, and of music, and of the use of calculation for military and domestic purposes we have not spoken, nor yet of the higher use of numbers in reckoning divine things--such as the revolutions of the stars, or the arrangements of days, months, and years, of which the true calculation is necessary in order that seasons and festivals may proceed in regular course, and arouse and enliven the city, rendering to the gods their due, and making men know them better. there are, we say, many things about which we have not as yet instructed you--and first, as to reading and music: shall the pupil be a perfect scholar and musician, or not even enter on these studies? he should certainly enter on both:--to letters he will apply himself from the age of ten to thirteen, and at thirteen he will begin to handle the lyre, and continue to learn music until he is sixteen; no shorter and no longer time will be allowed, however fond he or his parents may be of the pursuit. the study of letters he should carry to the extent of simple reading and writing, but he need not care for calligraphy and tachygraphy, if his natural gifts do not enable him to acquire them in the three years. and here arises a question as to the learning of compositions when unaccompanied with music, i mean, prose compositions. they are a dangerous species of literature. speak then, o guardians of the law, and tell us what we shall do about them. 'you seem to be in a difficulty.' yes; it is difficult to go against the opinion of all the world. 'but have we not often already done so?' very true. and you imply that the road which we are taking, though disagreeable to many, is approved by those whose judgment is most worth having. 'certainly.' then i would first observe that we have many poets, comic as well as tragic, with whose compositions, as people say, youth are to be imbued and saturated. some would have them learn by heart entire poets; others prefer extracts. now i believe, and the general opinion is, that some of the things which they learn are good, and some bad. 'then how shall we reject some and select others?' a happy thought occurs to me; this long discourse of ours is a sample of what we want, and is moreover an inspired work and a kind of poem. i am naturally pleased in reflecting upon all our words, which appear to me to be just the thing for a young man to hear and learn. i would venture, then, to offer to the director of education this treatise of laws as a pattern for his guidance; and in case he should find any similar compositions, written or oral, i would have him carefully preserve them, and commit them in the first place to the teachers who are willing to learn them (he should turn off the teacher who refuses), and let them communicate the lesson to the young. i have said enough to the teacher of letters; and now we will proceed to the teacher of the lyre. he must be reminded of the advice which we gave to the sexagenarian minstrels; like them he should be quick to perceive the rhythms suited to the expression of virtue, and to reject the opposite. with a view to the attainment of this object, the pupil and his instructor are to use the lyre because its notes are pure; the voice and string should coincide note for note: nor should there be complex harmonies and contrasts of intervals, or variations of times or rhythms. three years' study is not long enough to give a knowledge of these intricacies; and our pupils will have many things of more importance to learn. the tunes and hymns which are to be consecrated for each festival have been already determined by us. having given these instructions to the director of music, let us now proceed to dancing and gymnastic, which must also be taught to boys and girls by masters and mistresses. our minister of education will have a great deal to do; and being an old man, how will he get through so much work? there is no difficulty;--the law will provide him with assistants, male and female; and he will consider how important his office is, and how great the responsibility of choosing them. for if education prospers, the vessel of state sails merrily along; or if education fails, the consequences are not even to be mentioned. of dancing and gymnastics something has been said already. we include under the latter military exercises, the various uses of arms, all that relates to horsemanship, and military evolutions and tactics. there should be public teachers of both arts, paid by the state, and women as well as men should be trained in them. the maidens should learn the armed dance, and the grown-up women be practised in drill and the use of arms, if only in case of extremity, when the men are gone out to battle, and they are left to guard their families. birds and beasts defend their young, but women instead of fighting run to the altars, thus degrading man below the level of the animals. 'such a lack of education, stranger, is both unseemly and dangerous.' wrestling is to be pursued as a military exercise, but the meaning of this, and the nature of the art, can only be explained when action is combined with words. next follows dancing, which is of two kinds; imitative, first, of the serious and beautiful; and, secondly, of the ludicrous and grotesque. the first kind may be further divided into the dance of war and the dance of peace. the former is called the pyrrhic; in this the movements of attack and defence are imitated in a direct and manly style, which indicates strength and sufficiency of body and mind. the latter of the two, the dance of peace, is suitable to orderly and law-abiding men. these must be distinguished from the bacchic dances which imitate drunken revelry, and also from the dances by which purifications are effected and mysteries celebrated. such dances cannot be characterized either as warlike or peaceful, and are unsuited to a civilized state. now the dances of peace are of two classes:--the first of them is the more violent, being an expression of joy and triumph after toil and danger; the other is more tranquil, symbolizing the continuance and preservation of good. in speaking or singing we naturally move our bodies, and as we have more or less courage or self-control we become less or more violent and excited. thus from the imitation of words in gestures the art of dancing arises. now one man imitates in an orderly, another in a disorderly manner: and so the peaceful kinds of dance have been appropriately called emmeleiai, or dances of order, as the warlike have been called pyrrhic. in the latter a man imitates all sorts of blows and the hurling of weapons and the avoiding of them; in the former he learns to bear himself gracefully and like a gentleman. the types of these dances are to be fixed by the legislator, and when the guardians of the law have assigned them to the several festivals, and consecrated them in due order, no further change shall be allowed. thus much of the dances which are appropriate to fair forms and noble souls. comedy, which is the opposite of them, remains to be considered. for the serious implies the ludicrous, and opposites cannot be understood without opposites. but a man of repute will desire to avoid doing what is ludicrous. he should leave such performances to slaves,--they are not fit for freemen; and there should be some element of novelty in them. concerning tragedy, let our law be as follows: when the inspired poet comes to us with a request to be admitted into our state, we will reply in courteous words--we also are tragedians and your rivals; and the drama which we enact is the best and noblest, being the imitation of the truest and noblest life, with a view to which our state is ordered. and we cannot allow you to pitch your stage in the agora, and make your voices to be heard above ours, or suffer you to address our women and children and the common people on opposite principles to our own. come then, ye children of the lydian muse, and present yourselves first to the magistrates, and if they decide that your hymns are as good or better than ours, you shall have your chorus; but if not, not. there remain three kinds of knowledge which should be learnt by freemen--arithmetic, geometry of surfaces and of solids, and thirdly, astronomy. few need make an accurate study of such sciences; and of special students we will speak at another time. but most persons must be content with the study of them which is absolutely necessary, and may be said to be a necessity of that nature against which god himself is unable to contend. 'what are these divine necessities of knowledge?' necessities of a knowledge without which neither gods, nor demigods, can govern mankind. and far is he from being a divine man who cannot distinguish one, two, odd and even; who cannot number day and night, and is ignorant of the revolutions of the sun and stars; for to every higher knowledge a knowledge of number is necessary--a fool may see this; how much, is a matter requiring more careful consideration. 'very true.' but the legislator cannot enter into such details, and therefore we must defer the more careful consideration of these matters to another occasion. 'you seem to fear our habitual want of training in these subjects.' still more do i fear the danger of bad training, which is often worse than none at all. 'very true.' i think that a gentleman and a freeman may be expected to know as much as an egyptian child. in egypt, arithmetic is taught to children in their sports by a distribution of apples or garlands among a greater or less number of people; or a calculation is made of the various combinations which are possible among a set of boxers or wrestlers; or they distribute cups among the children, sometimes of gold, brass, and silver intermingled, sometimes of one metal only. the knowledge of arithmetic which is thus acquired is a great help, either to the general or to the manager of a household; wherever measure is employed, men are more wide-awake in their dealings, and they get rid of their ridiculous ignorance. 'what do you mean?' i have observed this ignorance among my countrymen--they are like pigs--and i am heartily ashamed both on my own behalf and on that of all the hellenes. 'in what respect?' let me ask you a question. you know that there are such things as length, breadth, and depth? 'yes.' and the hellenes imagine that they are commensurable ( ) with themselves, and ( ) with each other; whereas they are only commensurable with themselves. but if this is true, then we are in an unfortunate case, and may well say to our compatriots that not to possess necessary knowledge is a disgrace, though to possess such knowledge is nothing very grand. 'certainly.' the discussion of arithmetical problems is a much better amusement for old men than their favourite game of draughts. 'true.' mathematics, then, will be one of the subjects in which youth should be trained. they may be regarded as an amusement, as well as a useful and innocent branch of knowledge;--i think that we may include them provisionally. 'yes; that will be the way.' the next question is, whether astronomy shall be made a part of education. about the stars there is a strange notion prevalent. men often suppose that it is impious to enquire into the nature of god and the world, whereas the very reverse is the truth. 'how do you mean?' what i am going to say may seem absurd and at variance with the usual language of age, and yet if true and advantageous to the state, and pleasing to god, ought not to be withheld. 'let us hear.' my dear friend, how falsely do we and all the hellenes speak about the sun and moon! 'in what respect?' we are always saying that they and certain of the other stars do not keep the same path, and we term them planets. 'yes; and i have seen the morning and evening stars go all manner of ways, and the sun and moon doing what we know that they always do. but i wish that you would explain your meaning further.' you will easily understand what i have had no difficulty in understanding myself, though we are both of us past the time of learning. 'true; but what is this marvellous knowledge which youth are to acquire, and of which we are ignorant?' men say that the sun, moon, and stars are planets or wanderers; but this is the reverse of the fact. each of them moves in one orbit only, which is circular, and not in many; nor is the swiftest of them the slowest, as appears to human eyes. what an insult should we offer to olympian runners if we were to put the first last and the last first! and if that is a ridiculous error in speaking of men, how much more in speaking of the gods? they cannot be pleased at our telling falsehoods about them. 'they cannot.' then people should at least learn so much about them as will enable them to avoid impiety. enough of education. hunting and similar pursuits now claim our attention. these require for their regulation that mixture of law and admonition of which we have often spoken; e.g., in what we were saying about the nurture of young children. and therefore the whole duty of the citizen will not consist in mere obedience to the laws; he must regard not only the enactments but also the precepts of the legislator. i will illustrate my meaning by an example. of hunting there are many kinds--hunting of fish and fowl, man and beast, enemies and friends; and the legislator can neither omit to speak about these things, nor make penal ordinances about them all. 'what is he to do then?' he will praise and blame hunting, having in view the discipline and exercise of youth. and the young man will listen obediently and will regard his praises and censures; neither pleasure nor pain should hinder him. the legislator will express himself in the form of a pious wish for the welfare of the young:--o my friends, he will say, may you never be induced to hunt for fish in the waters, either by day or night; or for men, whether by sea or land. never let the wish to steal enter into your minds; neither be ye fowlers, which is not an occupation for gentlemen. as to land animals, the legislator will discourage hunting by night, and also the use of nets and snares by day; for these are indolent and unmanly methods. the only mode of hunting which he can praise is with horses and dogs, running, shooting, striking at close quarters. enough of the prelude: the law shall be as follows:-- let no one hinder the holy order of huntsmen; but let the nightly hunters who lay snares and nets be everywhere prohibited. let the fowler confine himself to waste places and to the mountains. the fisherman is also permitted to exercise his calling, except in harbours and sacred streams, marshes and lakes; in all other places he may fish, provided he does not make use of poisonous mixtures. book viii. next, with the help of the delphian oracle, we will appoint festivals and sacrifices. there shall be of them, one for every day in the year; and one magistrate, at least, shall offer sacrifice daily according to rites prescribed by a convocation of priests and interpreters, who shall co-operate with the guardians of the law, and supply what the legislator has omitted. moreover there shall be twelve festivals to the twelve gods after whom the twelve tribes are named: these shall be celebrated every month with appropriate musical and gymnastic contests. there shall also be festivals for women, to be distinguished from the men's festivals. nor shall the gods below be forgotten, but they must be separated from the gods above--pluto shall have his own in the twelfth month. he is not the enemy, but the friend of man, who releases the soul from the body, which is at least as good a work as to unite them. further, those who have to regulate these matters should consider that our state has leisure and abundance, and wishing to be happy, like an individual, should lead a good life; for he who leads such a life neither does nor suffers injury, of which the first is very easy, and the second very difficult of attainment, and is only to be acquired by perfect virtue. a good city has peace, but the evil city is full of wars within and without. to guard against the danger of external enemies the citizens should practise war at least one day in every month; they should go out en masse, including their wives and children, or in divisions, as the magistrates determine, and have mimic contests, imitating in a lively manner real battles; they should also have prizes and encomiums of valour, both for the victors in these contests, and for the victors in the battle of life. the poet who celebrates the victors should be fifty years old at least, and himself a man who has done great deeds. of such an one the poems may be sung, even though he is not the best of poets. to the director of education and the guardians of the law shall be committed the judgment, and no song, however sweet, which has not been licensed by them shall be recited. these regulations about poetry, and about military expeditions, apply equally to men and to women. the legislator may be conceived to make the following address to himself:--with what object am i training my citizens? are they not strivers for mastery in the greatest of combats? certainly, will be the reply. and if they were boxers or wrestlers, would they think of entering the lists without many days' practice? would they not as far as possible imitate all the circumstances of the contest; and if they had no one to box with, would they not practise on a lifeless image, heedless of the laughter of the spectators? and shall our soldiers go out to fight for life and kindred and property unprepared, because sham fights are thought to be ridiculous? will not the legislator require that his citizens shall practise war daily, performing lesser exercises without arms, while the combatants on a greater scale will carry arms, and take up positions, and lie in ambuscade? and let their combats be not without danger, that opportunity may be given for distinction, and the brave man and the coward may receive their meed of honour or disgrace. if occasionally a man is killed, there is no great harm done--there are others as good as he is who will replace him; and the state can better afford to lose a few of her citizens than to lose the only means of testing them. 'we agree, stranger, that such warlike exercises are necessary.' but why are they so rarely practised? or rather, do we not all know the reasons? one of them ( ) is the inordinate love of wealth. this absorbs the soul of a man, and leaves him no time for any other pursuit. knowledge is valued by him only as it tends to the attainment of wealth. all is lost in the desire of heaping up gold and silver; anybody is ready to do anything, right or wrong, for the sake of eating and drinking, and the indulgence of his animal passions. 'most true.' this is one of the causes which prevents a man being a good soldier, or anything else which is good; it converts the temperate and orderly into shopkeepers or servants, and the brave into burglars or pirates. many of these latter are men of ability, and are greatly to be pitied, because their souls are hungering and thirsting all their lives long. the bad forms of government ( ) are another reason--democracy, oligarchy, tyranny, which, as i was saying, are not states, but states of discord, in which the rulers are afraid of their subjects, and therefore do not like them to become rich, or noble, or valiant. now our state will escape both these causes of evil; the society is perfectly free, and has plenty of leisure, and is not allowed by the laws to be absorbed in the pursuit of wealth; hence we have an excellent field for a perfect education, and for the introduction of martial pastimes. let us proceed to describe the character of these pastimes. all gymnastic exercises in our state must have a military character; no other will be allowed. activity and quickness are most useful in war; and yet these qualities do not attain their greatest efficiency unless the competitors are armed. the runner should enter the lists in armour, and in the races which our heralds proclaim, no prize is to be given except to armed warriors. let there be six courses--first, the stadium; secondly, the diaulos or double course; thirdly, the horse course; fourthly, the long course; fifthly, races ( ) between heavy-armed soldiers who shall pass over sixty stadia and finish at a temple of ares, and ( ) between still more heavily-armed competitors who run over smoother ground; sixthly, a race for archers, who shall run over hill and dale a distance of a hundred stadia, and their goal shall be a temple of apollo and artemis. there shall be three contests of each kind--one for boys, another for youths, a third for men; the course for the boys we will fix at half, and that for the youths at two-thirds of the entire length. women shall join in the races: young girls who are not grown up shall run naked; but after thirteen they shall be suitably dressed; from thirteen to eighteen they shall be obliged to share in these contests, and from eighteen to twenty they may if they please and if they are unmarried. as to trials of strength, single combats in armour, or battles between two and two, or of any number up to ten, shall take the place of wrestling and the heavy exercises. and there must be umpires, as there are now in wrestling, to determine what is a fair hit and who is conqueror. instead of the pancratium, let there be contests in which the combatants carry bows and wear light shields and hurl javelins and throw stones. the next provision of the law will relate to horses, which, as we are in crete, need be rarely used by us, and chariots never; our horse-racing prizes will only be given to single horses, whether colts, half-grown, or full-grown. their riders are to wear armour, and there shall be a competition between mounted archers. women, if they have a mind, may join in the exercises of men. but enough of gymnastics, and nearly enough of music. all musical contests will take place at festivals, whether every third or every fifth year, which are to be fixed by the guardians of the law, the judges of the games, and the director of education, who for this purpose shall become legislators and arrange times and conditions. the principles on which such contests are to be ordered have been often repeated by the first legislator; no more need be said of them, nor are the details of them important. but there is another subject of the highest importance, which, if possible, should be determined by the laws, not of man, but of god; or, if a direct revelation is impossible, there is need of some bold man who, alone against the world, will speak plainly of the corruption of human nature, and go to war with the passions of mankind. 'we do not understand you.' i will try to make my meaning plainer. in speaking of education, i seemed to see young men and maidens in friendly intercourse with one another; and there arose in my mind a natural fear about a state, in which the young of either sex are well nurtured, and have little to do, and occupy themselves chiefly with festivals and dances. how can they be saved from those passions which reason forbids them to indulge, and which are the ruin of so many? the prohibition of wealth, and the influence of education, and the all-seeing eye of the ruler, will alike help to promote temperance; but they will not wholly extirpate the unnatural loves which have been the destruction of states; and against this evil what remedy can be devised? lacedaemon and crete give no assistance here; on the subject of love, as i may whisper in your ear, they are against us. suppose a person were to urge that you ought to restore the natural use which existed before the days of laius; he would be quite right, but he would not be supported by public opinion in either of your states. or try the matter by the test which we apply to all laws,--who will say that the permission of such things tends to virtue? will he who is seduced learn the habit of courage; or will the seducer acquire temperance? and will any legislator be found to make such actions legal? but to judge of this matter truly, we must understand the nature of love and friendship, which may take very different forms. for we speak of friendship, first, when there is some similarity or equality of virtue; secondly, when there is some want; and either of these, when in excess, is termed love. the first kind is gentle and sociable; the second is fierce and unmanageable; and there is also a third kind, which is akin to both, and is under the dominion of opposite principles. the one is of the body, and has no regard for the character of the beloved; but he who is under the influence of the other disregards the body, and is a looker rather than a lover, and desires only with his soul to be knit to the soul of his friend; while the intermediate sort is both of the body and of the soul. here are three kinds of love: ought the legislator to prohibit all of them equally, or to allow the virtuous love to remain? 'the latter, clearly.' i expected to gain your approval; but i will reserve the task of convincing our friend cleinias for another occasion. 'very good.' to make right laws on this subject is in one point of view easy, and in another most difficult; for we know that in some cases most men abstain willingly from intercourse with the fair. the unwritten law which prohibits members of the same family from such intercourse is strictly obeyed, and no thought of anything else ever enters into the minds of men in general. a little word puts out the fire of their lusts. 'what is it?' the declaration that such things are hateful to the gods, and most abominable and unholy. the reason is that everywhere, in jest and earnest alike, this is the doctrine which is repeated to all from their earliest youth. they see on the stage that an oedipus or a thyestes or a macareus, when undeceived, are ready to kill themselves. there is an undoubted power in public opinion when no breath is heard adverse to the law; and the legislator who would enslave these enslaving passions must consecrate such a public opinion all through the city. 'good: but how can you create it?' a fair objection; but i promised to try and find some means of restraining loves to their natural objects. a law which would extirpate unnatural love as effectually as incest is at present extirpated, would be the source of innumerable blessings, because it would be in accordance with nature, and would get rid of excess in eating and drinking and of adulteries and frenzies, making men love their wives, and having other excellent effects. i can imagine that some lusty youth overhears what we are saying, and roars out in abusive terms that we are legislating for impossibilities. and so a person might have said of the syssitia, or common meals; but this is refuted by facts, although even now they are not extended to women. 'true.' there is no impossibility or super-humanity in my proposed law, as i shall endeavour to prove. 'do so.' will not a man find abstinence more easy when his body is sound than when he is in ill-condition? 'yes.' have we not heard of iccus of tarentum and other wrestlers who abstained wholly for a time? yet they were infinitely worse educated than our citizens, and far more lusty in their bodies. and shall they have abstained for the sake of an athletic contest, and our citizens be incapable of a similar endurance for the sake of a much nobler victory,--the victory over pleasure, which is true happiness? will not the fear of impiety enable them to conquer that which many who were inferior to them have conquered? 'i dare say.' and therefore the law must plainly declare that our citizens should not fall below the other animals, who live all together in flocks, and yet remain pure and chaste until the time of procreation comes, when they pair, and are ever after faithful to their compact. but if the corruption of public opinion is too great to allow our first law to be carried out, then our guardians of the law must turn legislators, and try their hand at a second law. they must minimize the appetites, diverting the vigour of youth into other channels, allowing the practice of love in secret, but making detection shameful. three higher principles may be brought to bear on all these corrupt natures. 'what are they?' religion, honour, and the love of the higher qualities of the soul. perhaps this is a dream only, yet it is the best of dreams; and if not the whole, still, by the grace of god, a part of what we desire may be realized. either men may learn to abstain wholly from any loves, natural or unnatural, except of their wedded wives; or, at least, they may give up unnatural loves; or, if detected, they shall be punished with loss of citizenship, as aliens from the state in their morals. 'i entirely agree with you,' said megillus, 'but cleinias must speak for himself.' 'i will give my opinion by-and-by.' we were speaking of the syssitia, which will be a natural institution in a cretan colony. whether they shall be established after the model of crete or lacedaemon, or shall be different from either, is an unimportant question which may be determined without difficulty. we may, therefore, proceed to speak of the mode of life among our citizens, which will be far less complex than in other cities; a state which is inland and not maritime requires only half the number of laws. there is no trouble about trade and commerce, and a thousand other things. the legislator has only to regulate the affairs of husbandmen and shepherds, which will be easily arranged, now that the principal questions, such as marriage, education, and government, have been settled. let us begin with husbandry: first, let there be a law of zeus against removing a neighbour's landmark, whether he be a citizen or stranger. for this is 'to move the immoveable'; and zeus, the god of kindred, witnesses to the wrongs of citizens, and zeus, the god of strangers, to the wrongs of strangers. the offence of removing a boundary shall receive two punishments--the first will be inflicted by the god himself; the second by the judges. in the next place, the differences between neighbours about encroachments must be guarded against. he who encroaches shall pay twofold the amount of the injury; of all such matters the wardens of the country shall be the judges, in lesser cases the officers, and in greater the whole number of them belonging to any one division. any injury done by cattle, the decoying of bees, the careless firing of woods, the planting unduly near a neighbour's ground, shall all be visited with proper damages. such details have been determined by previous legislators, and need not now be mixed up with greater matters. husbandmen have had of old excellent rules about streams and waters; and we need not 'divert their course.' anybody may take water from a common stream, if he does not thereby cut off a private spring; he may lead the water in any direction, except through a house or temple, but he must do no harm beyond the channel. if land is without water the occupier shall dig down to the clay, and if at this depth he find no water, he shall have a right of getting water from his neighbours for his household; and if their supply is limited, he shall receive from them a measure of water fixed by the wardens of the country. if there be heavy rains, the dweller on the higher ground must not recklessly suffer the water to flow down upon a neighbour beneath him, nor must he who lives upon lower ground or dwells in an adjoining house refuse an outlet. if the two parties cannot agree, they shall go before the wardens of the city or country, and if a man refuse to abide by their decision, he shall pay double the damage which he has caused. in autumn god gives us two boons--one the joy of dionysus not to be laid up--the other to be laid up. about the fruits of autumn let the law be as follows: he who gathers the storing fruits of autumn, whether grapes or figs, before the time of the vintage, which is the rising of arcturus, shall pay fifty drachmas as a fine to dionysus, if he gathers on his own ground; if on his neighbour's ground, a mina, and two-thirds of a mina if on that of any one else. the grapes or figs not used for storing a man may gather when he pleases on his own ground, but on that of others he must pay the penalty of removing what he has not laid down. if he be a slave who has gathered, he shall receive a stroke for every grape or fig. a metic must purchase the choice fruit; but a stranger may pluck for himself and his attendant. this right of hospitality, however, does not extend to storing grapes. a slave who eats of the storing grapes or figs shall be beaten, and the freeman be dismissed with a warning. pears, apples, pomegranates, may be taken secretly, but he who is detected in the act of taking them shall be lightly beaten off, if he be not more than thirty years of age. the stranger and the elder may partake of them, but not carry any away; the latter, if he does not obey the law, shall fail in the competition of virtue, if anybody brings up his offence against him. water is also in need of protection, being the greatest element of nutrition, and, unlike the other elements--soil, air, and sun--which conspire in the growth of plants, easily polluted. and therefore he who spoils another's water, whether in springs or reservoirs, either by trenching, or theft, or by means of poisonous substances, shall pay the damage and purify the stream. at the getting-in of the harvest everybody shall have a right of way over his neighbour's ground, provided he is careful to do no damage beyond the trespass, or if he himself will gain three times as much as his neighbour loses. of all this the magistrates are to take cognizance, and they are to assess the damage where the injury does not exceed three minae; cases of greater damage can be tried only in the public courts. a charge against a magistrate is to be referred to the public courts, and any one who is found guilty of deciding corruptly shall pay twofold to the aggrieved person. matters of detail relating to punishments and modes of procedure, and summonses, and witnesses to summonses, do not require the mature wisdom of the aged legislator; the younger generation may determine them according to their experience; but when once determined, they shall remain unaltered. the following are to be the regulations respecting handicrafts:--no citizen, or servant of a citizen, is to practise them. for the citizen has already an art and mystery, which is the care of the state; and no man can practise two arts, or practise one and superintend another. no smith should be a carpenter, and no carpenter, having many slaves who are smiths, should look after them himself; but let each man practise one art which shall be his means of livelihood. the wardens of the city should see to this, punishing the citizen who offends with temporary deprival of his rights--the foreigner shall be imprisoned, fined, exiled. any disputes about contracts shall be determined by the wardens of the city up to fifty drachmae--above that sum by the public courts. no customs are to be exacted either on imports or exports. nothing unnecessary is to be imported from abroad, whether for the service of the gods or for the use of man--neither purple, nor other dyes, nor frankincense,--and nothing needed in the country is to be exported. these things are to be decided on by the twelve guardians of the law who are next in seniority to the five elders. arms and the materials of war are to be imported and exported only with the consent of the generals, and then only by the state. there is to be no retail trade either in these or any other articles. for the distribution of the produce of the country, the cretan laws afford a rule which may be usefully followed. all shall be required to distribute corn, grain, animals, and other valuable produce, into twelve portions. each of these shall be subdivided into three parts--one for freemen, another for servants, and the third shall be sold for the supply of artisans, strangers, and metics. these portions must be equal whether the produce be much or little; and the master of a household may distribute the two portions among his family and his slaves as he pleases--the remainder is to be measured out to the animals. next as to the houses in the country--there shall be twelve villages, one in the centre of each of the twelve portions; and in every village there shall be temples and an agora--also shrines for heroes or for any old magnesian deities who linger about the place. in every division there shall be temples of hestia, zeus, and athene, as well as of the local deity, surrounded by buildings on eminences, which will be the guard-houses of the rural police. the dwellings of the artisans will be thus arranged:--the artisans shall be formed into thirteen guilds, one of which will be divided into twelve parts and settled in the city; of the rest there shall be one in each division of the country. and the magistrates will fix them on the spots where they will cause the least inconvenience and be most serviceable in supplying the wants of the husbandmen. the care of the agora will fall to the wardens of the agora. their first duty will be the regulation of the temples which surround the market-place; and their second to see that the markets are orderly and that fair dealing is observed. they will also take care that the sales which the citizens are required to make to strangers are duly executed. the law shall be, that on the first day of each month the auctioneers to whom the sale is entrusted shall offer grain; and at this sale a twelfth part of the whole shall be exposed, and the foreigner shall supply his wants for a month. on the tenth, there shall be a sale of liquids, and on the twenty-third of animals, skins, woven or woollen stuffs, and other things which husbandmen have to sell and foreigners want to buy. none of these commodities, any more than barley or flour, or any other food, may be retailed by a citizen to a citizen; but foreigners may sell them to one another in the foreigners' market. there must also be butchers who will sell parts of animals to foreigners and craftsmen, and their servants; and foreigners may buy firewood wholesale of the commissioners of woods, and may sell retail to foreigners. all other goods must be sold in the market, at some place indicated by the magistrates, and shall be paid for on the spot. he who gives credit, and is cheated, will have no redress. in buying or selling, any excess or diminution of what the law allows shall be registered. the same rule is to be observed about the property of metics. anybody who practises a handicraft may come and remain twenty years from the day on which he is enrolled; at the expiration of this time he shall take what he has and depart. the only condition which is to be imposed upon him as the tax of his sojourn is good conduct; and he is not to pay any tax for being allowed to buy or sell. but if he wants to extend the time of his sojourn, and has done any service to the state, and he can persuade the council and assembly to grant his request, he may remain. the children of metics may also be metics; and the period of twenty years, during which they are permitted to sojourn, is to count, in their case, from their fifteenth year. no mention occurs in the laws of the doctrine of ideas. the will of god, the authority of the legislator, and the dignity of the soul, have taken their place in the mind of plato. if we ask what is that truth or principle which, towards the end of his life, seems to have absorbed him most, like the idea of good in the republic, or of beauty in the symposium, or of the unity of virtue in the protagoras, we should answer--the priority of the soul to the body: his later system mainly hangs upon this. in the laws, as in the sophist and statesman, we pass out of the region of metaphysical or transcendental ideas into that of psychology. the opening of the fifth book, though abrupt and unconnected in style, is one of the most elevated passages in plato. the religious feeling which he seeks to diffuse over the commonest actions of life, the blessedness of living in the truth, the great mistake of a man living for himself, the pity as well as anger which should be felt at evil, the kindness due to the suppliant and the stranger, have the temper of christian philosophy. the remark that elder men, if they want to educate others, should begin by educating themselves; the necessity of creating a spirit of obedience in the citizens; the desirableness of limiting property; the importance of parochial districts, each to be placed under the protection of some god or demigod, have almost the tone of a modern writer. in many of his views of politics, plato seems to us, like some politicians of our own time, to be half socialist, half conservative. in the laws, we remark a change in the place assigned by him to pleasure and pain. there are two ways in which even the ideal systems of morals may regard them: either like the stoics, and other ascetics, we may say that pleasure must be eradicated; or if this seems unreal to us, we may affirm that virtue is the true pleasure; and then, as aristotle says, 'to be brought up to take pleasure in what we ought, exercises a great and paramount influence on human life' (arist. eth. nic.). or as plato says in the laws, 'a man will recognize the noblest life as having the greatest pleasure and the least pain, if he have a true taste.' if we admit that pleasures differ in kind, the opposition between these two modes of speaking is rather verbal than real; and in the greater part of the writings of plato they alternate with each other. in the republic, the mere suggestion that pleasure may be the chief good, is received by socrates with a cry of abhorrence; but in the philebus, innocent pleasures vindicate their right to a place in the scale of goods. in the protagoras, speaking in the person of socrates rather than in his own, plato admits the calculation of pleasure to be the true basis of ethics, while in the phaedo he indignantly denies that the exchange of one pleasure for another is the exchange of virtue. so wide of the mark are they who would attribute to plato entire consistency in thoughts or words. he acknowledges that the second state is inferior to the first--in this, at any rate, he is consistent; and he still casts longing eyes upon the ideal. several features of the first are retained in the second: the education of men and women is to be as far as possible the same; they are to have common meals, though separate, the men by themselves, the women with their children; and they are both to serve in the army; the citizens, if not actually communists, are in spirit communistic; they are to be lovers of equality; only a certain amount of wealth is permitted to them, and their burdens and also their privileges are to be proportioned to this. the constitution in the laws is a timocracy of wealth, modified by an aristocracy of merit. yet the political philosopher will observe that the first of these two principles is fixed and permanent, while the latter is uncertain and dependent on the opinion of the multitude. wealth, after all, plays a great part in the second republic of plato. like other politicians, he deems that a property qualification will contribute stability to the state. the four classes are derived from the constitution of athens, just as the form of the city, which is clustered around a citadel set on a hill, is suggested by the acropolis at athens. plato, writing under pythagorean influences, seems really to have supposed that the well-being of the city depended almost as much on the number as on justice and moderation. but he is not prevented by pythagoreanism from observing the effects which climate and soil exercise on the characters of nations. he was doubtful in the republic whether the ideal or communistic state could be realized, but was at the same time prepared to maintain that whether it existed or not made no difference to the philosopher, who will in any case regulate his life by it (republic). he has now lost faith in the practicability of his scheme--he is speaking to 'men, and not to gods or sons of gods' (laws). yet he still maintains it to be the true pattern of the state, which we must approach as nearly as possible: as aristotle says, 'after having created a more general form of state, he gradually brings it round to the other' (pol.). he does not observe, either here or in the republic, that in such a commonwealth there would be little room for the development of individual character. in several respects the second state is an improvement on the first, especially in being based more distinctly on the dignity of the soul. the standard of truth, justice, temperance, is as high as in the republic;--in one respect higher, for temperance is now regarded, not as a virtue, but as the condition of all virtue. it is finally acknowledged that the virtues are all one and connected, and that if they are separated, courage is the lowest of them. the treatment of moral questions is less speculative but more human. the idea of good has disappeared; the excellences of individuals--of him who is faithful in a civil broil, of the examiner who is incorruptible, are the patterns to which the lives of the citizens are to conform. plato is never weary of speaking of the honour of the soul, which can only be honoured truly by being improved. to make the soul as good as possible, and to prepare her for communion with the gods in another world by communion with divine virtue in this, is the end of life. if the republic is far superior to the laws in form and style, and perhaps in reach of thought, the laws leave on the mind of the modern reader much more strongly the impression of a struggle against evil, and an enthusiasm for human improvement. when plato says that he must carry out that part of his ideal which is practicable, he does not appear to have reflected that part of an ideal cannot be detached from the whole. the great defect of both his constitutions is the fixedness which he seeks to impress upon them. he had seen the athenian empire, almost within the limits of his own life, wax and wane, but he never seems to have asked himself what would happen if, a century from the time at which he was writing, the greek character should have as much changed as in the century which had preceded. he fails to perceive that the greater part of the political life of a nation is not that which is given them by their legislators, but that which they give themselves. he has never reflected that without progress there cannot be order, and that mere order can only be preserved by an unnatural and despotic repression. the possibility of a great nation or of an universal empire arising never occurred to him. he sees the enfeebled and distracted state of the hellenic world in his own later life, and thinks that the remedy is to make the laws unchangeable. the same want of insight is apparent in his judgments about art. he would like to have the forms of sculpture and of music fixed as in egypt. he does not consider that this would be fatal to the true principles of art, which, as socrates had himself taught, was to give life (xen. mem.). we wonder how, familiar as he was with the statues of pheidias, he could have endured the lifeless and half-monstrous works of egyptian sculpture. the 'chants of isis' (laws), we might think, would have been barbarous in an athenian ear. but although he is aware that there are some things which are not so well among 'the children of the nile,' he is deeply struck with the stability of egyptian institutions. both in politics and in art plato seems to have seen no way of bringing order out of disorder, except by taking a step backwards. antiquity, compared with the world in which he lived, had a sacredness and authority for him: the men of a former age were supposed by him to have had a sense of reverence which was wanting among his contemporaries. he could imagine the early stages of civilization; he never thought of what the future might bring forth. his experience is confined to two or three centuries, to a few greek states, and to an uncertain report of egypt and the east. there are many ways in which the limitations of their knowledge affected the genius of the greeks. in criticism they were like children, having an acute vision of things which were near to them, blind to possibilities which were in the distance. the colony is to receive from the mother-country her original constitution, and some of the first guardians of the law. the guardians of the law are to be ministers of justice, and the president of education is to take precedence of them all. they are to keep the registers of property, to make regulations for trade, and they are to be superannuated at seventy years of age. several questions of modern politics, such as the limitation of property, the enforcement of education, the relations of classes, are anticipated by plato. he hopes that in his state will be found neither poverty nor riches; every man having the necessaries of life, he need not go fortune-hunting in marriage. almost in the spirit of the gospel he would say, 'how hardly can a rich man dwell in a perfect state.' for he cannot be a good man who is always gaining too much and spending too little (laws; compare arist. eth. nic.). plato, though he admits wealth as a political element, would deny that material prosperity can be the foundation of a really great community. a man's soul, as he often says, is more to be esteemed than his body; and his body than external goods. he repeats the complaint which has been made in all ages, that the love of money is the corruption of states. he has a sympathy with thieves and burglars, 'many of whom are men of ability and greatly to be pitied, because their souls are hungering and thirsting all their lives long;' but he has little sympathy with shopkeepers or retailers, although he makes the reflection, which sometimes occurs to ourselves, that such occupations, if they were carried on honestly by the best men and women, would be delightful and honourable. for traders and artisans a moderate gain was, in his opinion, best. he has never, like modern writers, idealized the wealth of nations, any more than he has worked out the problems of political economy, which among the ancients had not yet grown into a science. the isolation of greek states, their constant wars, the want of a free industrial population, and of the modern methods and instruments of 'credit,' prevented any great extension of commerce among them; and so hindered them from forming a theory of the laws which regulate the accumulation and distribution of wealth. the constitution of the army is aristocratic and also democratic; official appointment is combined with popular election. the two principles are carried out as follows: the guardians of the law nominate generals out of whom three are chosen by those who are or have been of the age for military service; and the generals elected have the nomination of certain of the inferior officers. but if either in the case of generals or of the inferior officers any one is ready to swear that he knows of a better man than those nominated, he may put the claims of his candidate to the vote of the whole army, or of the division of the service which he will, if elected, command. there is a general assembly, but its functions, except at elections, are hardly noticed. in the election of the boule, plato again attempts to mix aristocracy and democracy. this is effected, first as in the servian constitution, by balancing wealth and numbers; for it cannot be supposed that those who possessed a higher qualification were equal in number with those who had a lower, and yet they have an equal number of representatives. in the second place, all classes are compelled to vote in the election of senators from the first and second class; but the fourth class is not compelled to elect from the third, nor the third and fourth from the fourth. thirdly, out of the persons who are thus chosen from each of the four classes, in all, are to be taken by lot; these form the council for the year. these political adjustments of plato's will be criticised by the practical statesman as being for the most part fanciful and ineffectual. he will observe, first of all, that the only real check on democracy is the division into classes. the second of the three proposals, though ingenious, and receiving some light from the apathy to politics which is often shown by the higher classes in a democracy, would have little power in times of excitement and peril, when the precaution was most needed. at such political crises, all the lower classes would vote equally with the higher. the subtraction of half the persons chosen at the first election by the chances of the lot would not raise the character of the senators, and is open to the objection of uncertainty, which necessarily attends this and similar schemes of double representative government. nor can the voters be expected to retain the continuous political interest required for carrying out such a proposal as plato's. who could select persons of each class, fitted to be senators? and whoever were chosen by the voter in the first instance, his wishes might be neutralized by the action of the lot. yet the scheme of plato is not really so extravagant as the actual constitution of athens, in which all the senators appear to have been elected by lot (apo kuamou bouleutai), at least, after the revolution made by cleisthenes; for the constitution of the senate which was established by solon probably had some aristocratic features, though their precise nature is unknown to us. the ancients knew that election by lot was the most democratic of all modes of appointment, seeming to say in the objectionable sense, that 'one man is as good as another.' plato, who is desirous of mingling different elements, makes a partial use of the lot, which he applies to candidates already elected by vote. he attempts also to devise a system of checks and balances such as he supposes to have been intended by the ancient legislators. we are disposed to say to him, as he himself says in a remarkable passage, that 'no man ever legislates, but accidents of all sorts, which legislate for us in all sorts of ways. the violence of war and the hard necessity of poverty are constantly overturning governments and changing laws.' and yet, as he adds, the true legislator is still required: he must co-operate with circumstances. many things which are ascribed to human foresight are the result of chance. ancient, and in a less degree modern political constitutions, are never consistent with themselves, because they are never framed on a single design, but are added to from time to time as new elements arise and gain the preponderance in the state. we often attribute to the wisdom of our ancestors great political effects which have sprung unforeseen from the accident of the situation. power, not wisdom, is most commonly the source of political revolutions. and the result, as in the roman republic, of the co-existence of opposite elements in the same state is, not a balance of power or an equable progress of liberal principles, but a conflict of forces, of which one or other may happen to be in the ascendant. in greek history, as well as in plato's conception of it, this 'progression by antagonism' involves reaction: the aristocracy expands into democracy and returns again to tyranny. the constitution of the laws may be said to consist, besides the magistrates, mainly of three elements,--an administrative council, the judiciary, and the nocturnal council, which is an intellectual aristocracy, composed of priests and the ten eldest guardians of the law and some younger co-opted members. to this latter chiefly are assigned the functions of legislation, but to be exercised with a sparing hand. the powers of the ordinary council are administrative rather than legislative. the whole number of , as in the athenian constitution, is distributed among the months of the year according to the number of the tribes. not more than one-twelfth is to be in office at once, so that the government would be made up of twelve administrations succeeding one another in the course of the year. they are to exercise a general superintendence, and, like the athenian counsellors, are to preside in monthly divisions over all assemblies. of the ecclesia over which they presided little is said, and that little relates to comparatively trifling duties. nothing is less present to the mind of plato than a house of commons, carrying on year by year the work of legislation. for he supposes the laws to be already provided. as little would he approve of a body like the roman senate. the people and the aristocracy alike are to be represented, not by assemblies, but by officers elected for one or two years, except the guardians of the law, who are elected for twenty years. the evils of this system are obvious. if in any state, as plato says in the statesman, it is easier to find fifty good draught-players than fifty good rulers, the greater part of the who compose the council must be unfitted to rule. the unfitness would be increased by the short period during which they held office. there would be no traditions of government among them, as in a greek or italian oligarchy, and no individual would be responsible for any of their acts. everything seems to have been sacrificed to a false notion of equality, according to which all have a turn of ruling and being ruled. in the constitution of the magnesian state plato has not emancipated himself from the limitations of ancient politics. his government may be described as a democracy of magistrates elected by the people. he never troubles himself about the political consistency of his scheme. he does indeed say that the greater part of the good of this world arises, not from equality, but from proportion, which he calls the judgment of zeus (compare aristotle's distributive justice), but he hardly makes any attempt to carry out the principle in practice. there is no attempt to proportion representation to merit; nor is there any body in his commonwealth which represents the life either of a class or of the whole state. the manner of appointing magistrates is taken chiefly from the old democratic constitution of athens, of which it retains some of the worst features, such as the use of the lot, while by doing away with the political character of the popular assembly the mainspring of the machine is taken out. the guardians of the law, thirty-seven in number, of whom the ten eldest reappear as a part of the nocturnal council at the end of the twelfth book, are to be elected by the whole military class, but they are to hold office for twenty years, and would therefore have an oligarchical rather than a democratic character. nothing is said of the manner in which the functions of the nocturnal council are to be harmonized with those of the guardians of the law, or as to how the ordinary council is related to it. similar principles are applied to inferior offices. to some the appointment is made by vote, to others by lot. in the elections to the priesthood, plato endeavours to mix or balance in a friendly manner 'demus and not demus.' the commonwealth of the laws, like the republic, cannot dispense with a spiritual head, which is the same in both--the oracle of delphi. from this the laws about all divine things are to be derived. the final selection of the interpreters, the choice of an heir for a vacant lot, the punishment for removing a deposit, are also to be determined by it. plato is not disposed to encourage amateur attempts to revive religion in states. for, as he says in the laws, 'to institute religious rites is the work of a great intelligence.' though the council is framed on the model of the athenian boule, the law courts of plato do not equally conform to the pattern of the athenian dicasteries. plato thinks that the judges should speak and ask questions:--this is not possible if they are numerous; he would, therefore, have a few judges only, but good ones. he is nevertheless aware that both in public and private suits there must be a popular element. he insists that the whole people must share in the administration of justice--in public causes they are to take the first step, and the final decision is to remain with them. in private suits they are also to retain a share; 'for the citizen who has no part in the administration of justice is apt to think that he has no share in the state. for this reason there is to be a court of law in every tribe (i.e. for about every , citizens), and the judges are to be chosen by lot.' of the courts of law he gives what he calls a superficial sketch. nor, indeed is it easy to reconcile his various accounts of them. it is however clear that although some officials, like the guardians of the law, the wardens of the agora, city, and country have power to inflict minor penalties, the administration of justice is in the main popular. the ingenious expedient of dividing the questions of law and fact between a judge and jury, which would have enabled plato to combine the popular element with the judicial, did not occur to him or to any other ancient political philosopher. though desirous of limiting the number of judges, and thereby confining the office to persons specially fitted for it, he does not seem to have understood that a body of law must be formed by decisions as well as by legal enactments. he would have men in the first place seek justice from their friends and neighbours, because, as he truly remarks, they know best the questions at issue; these are called in another passage arbiters rather than judges. but if they cannot settle the matter, it is to be referred to the courts of the tribes, and a higher penalty is to be paid by the party who is unsuccessful in the suit. there is a further appeal allowed to the select judges, with a further increase of penalty. the select judges are to be appointed by the magistrates, who are to choose one from every magistracy. they are to be elected annually, and therefore probably for a year only, and are liable to be called to account before the guardians of the law. in cases of which death is the penalty, the trial takes place before a special court, which is composed of the guardians of the law and of the judges of appeal. in treating of the subject in book ix, he proposes to leave for the most part the methods of procedure to a younger generation of legislators; the procedure in capital causes he determines himself. he insists that the vote of the judges shall be given openly, and before they vote they are to hear speeches from the plaintiff and defendant. they are then to take evidence in support of what has been said, and to examine witnesses. the eldest judge is to ask his questions first, and then the second, and then the third. the interrogatories are to continue for three days, and the evidence is to be written down. apparently he does not expect the judges to be professional lawyers, any more than he expects the members of the council to be trained statesmen. in forming marriage connexions, plato supposes that the public interest will prevail over private inclination. there was nothing in this very shocking to the notions of greeks, among whom the feeling of love towards the other sex was almost deprived of sentiment or romance. married life is to be regulated solely with a view to the good of the state. the newly-married couple are not allowed to absent themselves from their respective syssitia, even during their honeymoon; they are to give their whole mind to the procreation of children; their duties to one another at a later period of life are not a matter about which the state is equally solicitous. divorces are readily allowed for incompatibility of temper. as in the republic, physical considerations seem almost to exclude moral and social ones. to modern feelings there is a degree of coarseness in plato's treatment of the subject. yet he also makes some shrewd remarks on marriage, as for example, that a man who does not marry for money will not be the humble servant of his wife. and he shows a true conception of the nature of the family, when he requires that the newly-married couple 'should leave their father and mother,' and have a separate home. he also provides against extravagance in marriage festivals, which in some states of society, for instance in the case of the hindoos, has been a social evil of the first magnitude. in treating of property, plato takes occasion to speak of property in slaves. they are to be treated with perfect justice; but, for their own sake, to be kept at a distance. the motive is not so much humanity to the slave, of which there are hardly any traces (although plato allows that many in the hour of peril have found a slave more attached than members of their own family), but the self-respect which the freeman and citizen owes to himself (compare republic). if they commit crimes, they are doubly punished; if they inform against illegal practices of their masters, they are to receive a protection, which would probably be ineffectual, from the guardians of the law; in rare cases they are to be set free. plato still breathes the spirit of the old hellenic world, in which slavery was a necessity, because leisure must be provided for the citizen. the education propounded in the laws differs in several points from that of the republic. plato seems to have reflected as deeply and earnestly on the importance of infancy as rousseau, or jean paul (compare the saying of the latter--'not the moment of death, but the moment of birth, is probably the more important'). he would fix the amusements of children in the hope of fixing their characters in after-life. in the spirit of the statesman who said, 'let me make the ballads of a country, and i care not who make their laws,' plato would say, 'let the amusements of children be unchanged, and they will not want to change the laws. the 'goddess harmonia' plays a great part in plato's ideas of education. the natural restless force of life in children, 'who do nothing but roar until they are three years old,' is gradually to be reduced to law and order. as in the republic, he fixes certain forms in which songs are to be composed: ( ) they are to be strains of cheerfulness and good omen; ( ) they are to be hymns or prayers addressed to the gods; ( ) they are to sing only of the lawful and good. the poets are again expelled or rather ironically invited to depart; and those who remain are required to submit their poems to the censorship of the magistrates. youth are no longer compelled to commit to memory many thousand lyric and tragic greek verses; yet, perhaps, a worse fate is in store for them. plato has no belief in 'liberty of prophesying'; and having guarded against the dangers of lyric poetry, he remembers that there is an equal danger in other writings. he cannot leave his old enemies, the sophists, in possession of the field; and therefore he proposes that youth shall learn by heart, instead of the compositions of poets or prose writers, his own inspired work on laws. these, and music and mathematics, are the chief parts of his education. mathematics are to be cultivated, not as in the republic with a view to the science of the idea of good,--though the higher use of them is not altogether excluded,--but rather with a religious and political aim. they are a sacred study which teaches men how to distribute the portions of a state, and which is to be pursued in order that they may learn not to blaspheme about astronomy. against three mathematical errors plato is in profound earnest. first, the error of supposing that the three dimensions of length, breadth, and height, are really commensurable with one another. the difficulty which he feels is analogous to the difficulty which he formerly felt about the connexion of ideas, and is equally characteristic of ancient philosophy: he fixes his mind on the point of difference, and cannot at the same time take in the similarity. secondly, he is puzzled about the nature of fractions: in the republic, he is disposed to deny the possibility of their existence. thirdly, his optimism leads him to insist (unlike the spanish king who thought that he could have improved on the mechanism of the heavens) on the perfect or circular movement of the heavenly bodies. he appears to mean, that instead of regarding the stars as overtaking or being overtaken by one another, or as planets wandering in many paths, a more comprehensive survey of the heavens would enable us to infer that they all alike moved in a circle around a centre (compare timaeus; republic). he probably suspected, though unacquainted with the true cause, that the appearance of the heavens did not agree with the reality: at any rate, his notions of what was right or fitting easily overpowered the results of actual observation. to the early astronomers, who lived at the revival of science, as to plato, there was nothing absurd in a priori astronomy, and they would probably have made fewer real discoveries of they had followed any other track. (compare introduction to the republic.) the science of dialectic is nowhere mentioned by name in the laws, nor is anything said of the education of after-life. the child is to begin to learn at ten years of age: he is to be taught reading and writing for three years, from ten to thirteen, and no longer; and for three years more, from thirteen to sixteen, he is to be instructed in music. the great fault which plato finds in the contemporary education is the almost total ignorance of arithmetic and astronomy, in which the greeks would do well to take a lesson from the egyptians (compare republic). dancing and wrestling are to have a military character, and women as well as men are to be taught the use of arms. the military spirit which plato has vainly endeavoured to expel in the first two books returns again in the seventh and eighth. he has evidently a sympathy with the soldier, as well as with the poet, and he is no mean master of the art, or at least of the theory, of war (compare laws; republic), though inclining rather to the spartan than to the athenian practice of it (laws). of a supreme or master science which was to be the 'coping-stone' of the rest, few traces appear in the laws. he seems to have lost faith in it, or perhaps to have realized that the time for such a science had not yet come, and that he was unable to fill up the outline which he had sketched. there is no requirement that the guardians of the law shall be philosophers, although they are to know the unity of virtue, and the connexion of the sciences. nor are we told that the leisure of the citizens, when they are grown up, is to be devoted to any intellectual employment. in this respect we note a falling off from the republic, but also there is 'the returning to it' of which aristotle speaks in the politics. the public and family duties of the citizens are to be their main business, and these would, no doubt, take up a great deal more time than in the modern world we are willing to allow to either of them. plato no longer entertains the idea of any regular training to be pursued under the superintendence of the state from eighteen to thirty, or from thirty to thirty-five; he has taken the first step downwards on 'constitution hill' (republic). but he maintains as earnestly as ever that 'to men living under this second polity there remains the greatest of all works, the education of the soul,' and that no bye-work should be allowed to interfere with it. night and day are not long enough for the consummation of it. few among us are either able or willing to carry education into later life; five or six years spent at school, three or four at a university, or in the preparation for a profession, an occasional attendance at a lecture to which we are invited by friends when we have an hour to spare from house-keeping or money-making--these comprise, as a matter of fact, the education even of the educated; and then the lamp is extinguished 'more truly than heracleitus' sun, never to be lighted again' (republic). the description which plato gives in the republic of the state of adult education among his contemporaries may be applied almost word for word to our own age. he does not however acquiesce in this widely-spread want of a higher education; he would rather seek to make every man something of a philosopher before he enters on the duties of active life. but in the laws he no longer prescribes any regular course of study which is to be pursued in mature years. nor does he remark that the education of after-life is of another kind, and must consist with the majority of the world rather in the improvement of character than in the acquirement of knowledge. it comes from the study of ourselves and other men: from moderation and experience: from reflection on circumstances: from the pursuit of high aims: from a right use of the opportunities of life. it is the preservation of what we have been, and the addition of something more. the power of abstract study or continuous thought is very rare, but such a training as this can be given by every one to himself. the singular passage in book vii., in which plato describes life as a pastime, like many other passages in the laws is imperfectly expressed. two thoughts seem to be struggling in his mind: first, the reflection, to which he returns at the end of the passage, that men are playthings or puppets, and that god only is the serious aim of human endeavours; this suggests to him the afterthought that, although playthings, they are the playthings of the gods, and that this is the best of them. the cynical, ironical fancy of the moment insensibly passes into a religious sentiment. in another passage he says that life is a game of which god, who is the player, shifts the pieces so as to procure the victory of good on the whole. or once more: tragedies are acted on the stage; but the best and noblest of them is the imitation of the noblest life, which we affirm to be the life of our whole state. again, life is a chorus, as well as a sort of mystery, in which we have the gods for playmates. men imagine that war is their serious pursuit, and they make war that they may return to their amusements. but neither wars nor amusements are the true satisfaction of men, which is to be found only in the society of the gods, in sacrificing to them and propitiating them. like a christian ascetic, plato seems to suppose that life should be passed wholly in the enjoyment of divine things. and after meditating in amazement on the sadness and unreality of the world, he adds, in a sort of parenthesis, 'be cheerful, sirs' (shakespeare, tempest.) in one of the noblest passages of plato, he speaks of the relation of the sexes. natural relations between members of the same family have been established of old; a 'little word' has put a stop to incestuous connexions. but unnatural unions of another kind continued to prevail at crete and lacedaemon, and were even justified by the example of the gods. they, too, might be banished, if the feeling that they were unholy and abominable could sink into the minds of men. the legislator is to cry aloud, and spare not, 'let not men fall below the level of the beasts.' plato does not shrink, like some modern philosophers, from 'carrying on war against the mightiest lusts of mankind;' neither does he expect to extirpate them, but only to confine them to their natural use and purpose, by the enactments of law, and by the influence of public opinion. he will not feed them by an over-luxurious diet, nor allow the healthier instincts of the soul to be corrupted by music and poetry. the prohibition of excessive wealth is, as he says, a very considerable gain in the way of temperance, nor does he allow of those enthusiastic friendships between older and younger persons which in his earlier writings appear to be alluded to with a certain degree of amusement and without reproof (compare introduction to the symposium). sappho and anacreon are celebrated by him in the charmides and the phaedrus; but they would have been expelled from the magnesian state. yet he does not suppose that the rule of absolute purity can be enforced on all mankind. something must be conceded to the weakness of human nature. he therefore adopts a 'second legal standard of honourable and dishonourable, having a second standard of right.' he would abolish altogether 'the connexion of men with men...as to women, if any man has to do with any but those who come into his house duly married by sacred rites, and he offends publicly in the face of all mankind, we shall be right in enacting that he be deprived of civic honours and privileges.' but feeling also that it is impossible wholly to control the mightiest passions of mankind,' plato, like other legislators, makes a compromise. the offender must not be found out; decency, if not morality, must be respected. in this he appears to agree with the practice of all civilized ages and countries. much may be truly said by the moralist on the comparative harm of open and concealed vice. nor do we deny that some moral evils are better turned out to the light, because, like diseases, when exposed, they are more easily cured. and secrecy introduces mystery which enormously exaggerates their power; a mere animal want is thus elevated into a sentimental ideal. it may very well be that a word spoken in season about things which are commonly concealed may have an excellent effect. but having regard to the education of youth, to the innocence of children, to the sensibilities of women, to the decencies of society, plato and the world in general are not wrong in insisting that some of the worst vices, if they must exist, should be kept out of sight; this, though only a second-best rule, is a support to the weakness of human nature. there are some things which may be whispered in the closet, but should not be shouted on the housetop. it may be said of this, as of many other things, that it is a great part of education to know to whom they are to be spoken of, and when, and where. book ix. punishments of offences and modes of procedure come next in order. we have a sense of disgrace in making regulations for all the details of crime in a virtuous and well-ordered state. but seeing that we are legislating for men and not for gods, there is no uncharitableness in apprehending that some one of our citizens may have a heart, like the seed which has touched the ox's horn, so hard as to be impenetrable to the law. let our first enactment be directed against the robbing of temples. no well-educated citizen will be guilty of such a crime, but one of their servants, or some stranger, may, and with a view to him, and at the same time with a remoter eye to the general infirmity of human nature, i will lay down the law, beginning with a prelude. to the intending robber we will say--o sir, the complaint which troubles you is not human; but some curse has fallen upon you, inherited from the crimes of your ancestors, of which you must purge yourself: go and sacrifice to the gods, associate with the good, avoid the wicked; and if you are cured of the fatal impulse, well; but if not, acknowledge death to be better than life, and depart. these are the accents, soft and low, in which we address the would-be criminal. and if he will not listen, then cry aloud as with the sound of a trumpet: whosoever robs a temple, if he be a slave or foreigner shall be branded in the face and hands, and scourged, and cast naked beyond the border. and perhaps this may improve him: for the law aims either at the reformation of the criminal, or the repression of crime. no punishment is designed to inflict useless injury. but if the offender be a citizen, he must be incurable, and for him death is the only fitting penalty. his iniquity, however, shall not be visited on his children, nor shall his property be confiscated. as to the exaction of penalties, any person who is fined for an offence shall not be liable to pay the fine, unless he have property in excess of his lot. for the lots must never go uncultivated for lack of means; the guardians of the law are to provide against this. if a fine is inflicted upon a man which he cannot pay, and for which his friends are unwilling to give security, he shall be imprisoned and otherwise dishonoured. but no criminal shall go unpunished:--whether death, or imprisonment, or stripes, or fines, or the stocks, or banishment to a remote temple, be the penalty. capital offences shall come under the cognizance of the guardians of the law, and a college of the best of the last year's magistrates. the order of suits and similar details we shall leave to the lawgivers of the future, and only determine the mode of voting. the judges are to sit in order of seniority, and the proceedings shall begin with the speeches of the plaintiff and the defendant; and then the judges, beginning with the eldest, shall ask questions and collect evidence during three days, which, at the end of each day, shall be deposited in writing under their seals on the altar of hestia; and when they have evidence enough, after a solemn declaration that they will decide justly, they shall vote and end the case. the votes are to be given openly in the presence of the citizens. next to religion, the preservation of the constitution is the first object of the law. the greatest enemy of the state is he who attempts to set up a tyrant, or breeds plots and conspiracies; not far below him in guilt is a magistrate who either knowingly, or in ignorance, fails to bring the offender to justice. any one who is good for anything will give information against traitors. the mode of proceeding at such trials will be the same as at trials for sacrilege; the penalty, death. but neither in this case nor in any other is the son to bear the iniquity of the father, unless father, grandfather, great-grandfather, have all of them been capitally convicted, and then the family of the criminal are to be sent off to the country of their ancestor, retaining their property, with the exception of the lot and its fixtures. and ten are to be selected from the younger sons of the other citizens--one of whom is to be chosen by the oracle of delphi to be heir of the lot. our third law will be a general one, concerning the procedure and the judges in cases of treason. as regards the remaining or departure of the family of the offender, the same law shall apply equally to the traitor, the sacrilegious, and the conspirator. a thief, whether he steals much or little, must refund twice the amount, if he can do so without impairing his lot; if he cannot, he must go to prison until he either pays the plaintiff, or in case of a public theft, the city, or they agree to forgive him. 'but should all kinds of theft incur the same penalty?' you remind me of what i know--that legislation is never perfect. the men for whom laws are now made may be compared to the slave who is being doctored, according to our old image, by the unscientific doctor. for the empirical practitioner, if he chance to meet the educated physician talking to his patient, and entering into the philosophy of his disease, would burst out laughing and say, as doctors delight in doing, 'foolish fellow, instead of curing the patient you are educating him!' 'and would he not be right?' perhaps; and he might add, that he who discourses in our fashion preaches to the citizens instead of legislating for them. 'true.' there is, however, one advantage which we possess--that being amateurs only, we may either take the most ideal, or the most necessary and utilitarian view. 'but why offer such an alternative? as if all our legislation must be done to-day, and nothing put off until the morrow. we may surely rough-hew our materials first, and shape and place them afterwards.' that will be the natural way of proceeding. there is a further point. of all writings either in prose or verse the writings of the legislator are the most important. for it is he who has to determine the nature of good and evil, and how they should be studied with a view to our instruction. and is it not as disgraceful for solon and lycurgus to lay down false precepts about the institutions of life as for homer and tyrtaeus? the laws of states ought to be the models of writing, and what is at variance with them should be deemed ridiculous. and we may further imagine them to express the affection and good sense of a father or mother, and not to be the fiats of a tyrant. 'very true.' let us enquire more particularly about sacrilege, theft and other crimes, for which we have already legislated in part. and this leads us to ask, first of all, whether we are agreed or disagreed about the nature of the honourable and just. 'to what are you referring?' i will endeavour to explain. all are agreed that justice is honourable, whether in men or things, and no one who maintains that a very ugly men who is just, is in his mind fair, would be thought extravagant. 'very true.' but if honour is to be attributed to justice, are just sufferings honourable, or only just actions? 'what do you mean?' our laws supply a case in point; for we enacted that the robber of temples and the traitor should die; and this was just, but the reverse of honourable. in this way does the language of the many rend asunder the just and honourable. 'that is true.' but is our own language consistent? i have already said that the evil are involuntarily evil; and the evil are the unjust. now the voluntary cannot be the involuntary; and if you two come to me and say, 'then shall we legislate for our city?' of course, i shall reply.--'then will you distinguish what crimes are voluntary and what involuntary, and shall we impose lighter penalties on the latter, and heavier on the former? or shall we refuse to determine what is the meaning of voluntary and involuntary, and maintain that our words have come down from heaven, and that they should be at once embodied in a law?' all states legislate under the idea that there are two classes of actions, the voluntary and the involuntary, but there is great confusion about them in the minds of men; and the law can never act unless they are distinguished. either we must abstain from affirming that unjust actions are involuntary, or explain the meaning of this statement. believing, then, that acts of injustice cannot be divided into voluntary and involuntary, i must endeavour to find some other mode of classifying them. hurts are voluntary and involuntary, but all hurts are not injuries: on the other hand, a benefit when wrongly conferred may be an injury. an act which gives or takes away anything is not simply just; but the legislator who has to decide whether the case is one of hurt or injury, must consider the animus of the agent; and when there is hurt, he must as far as possible, provide a remedy and reparation: but if there is injustice, he must, when compensation has been made, further endeavour to reconcile the two parties. 'excellent.' where injustice, like disease, is remediable, there the remedy must be applied in word or deed, with the assistance of pleasures and pains, of bounties and penalties, or any other influence which may inspire man with the love of justice, or hatred of injustice; and this is the noblest work of law. but when the legislator perceives the evil to be incurable, he will consider that the death of the offender will be a good to himself, and in two ways a good to society: first, as he becomes an example to others; secondly, because the city will be quit of a rogue; and in such a case, but in no other, the legislator will punish with death. 'there is some truth in what you say. i wish, however, that you would distinguish more clearly the difference of injury and hurt, and the complications of voluntary and involuntary.' you will admit that anger is of a violent and destructive nature? 'certainly.' and further, that pleasure is different from anger, and has an opposite power, working by persuasion and deceit? 'yes.' ignorance is the third source of crimes; this is of two kinds--simple ignorance and ignorance doubled by conceit of knowledge; the latter, when accompanied with power, is a source of terrible errors, but is excusable when only weak and childish. 'true.' we often say that one man masters, and another is mastered by pleasure and anger. 'just so.' but no one says that one man masters, and another is mastered by ignorance. 'you are right.' all these motives actuate men and sometimes drive them in different ways. 'that is so.' now, then, i am in a position to define the nature of just and unjust. by injustice i mean the dominion of anger and fear, pleasure and pain, envy and desire, in the soul, whether doing harm or not: by justice i mean the rule of the opinion of the best, whether in states or individuals, extending to the whole of life; although actions done in error are often thought to be involuntary injustice. no controversy need be raised about names at present; we are only desirous of fixing in our memories the heads of error. and the pain which is called fear and anger is our first head of error; the second is the class of pleasures and desires; and the third, of hopes which aim at true opinion about the best;--this latter falls into three divisions (i.e. ( ) when accompanied by simple ignorance, ( ) when accompanied by conceit of wisdom combined with power, or ( ) with weakness), so that there are in all five. and the laws relating to them may be summed up under two heads, laws which deal with acts of open violence and with acts of deceit; to which may be added acts both violent and deceitful, and these last should be visited with the utmost rigour of the law. 'very properly.' let us now return to the enactment of laws. we have treated of sacrilege, and of conspiracy, and of treason. any of these crimes may be committed by a person not in his right mind, or in the second childhood of old age. if this is proved to be the fact before the judges, the person in question shall only have to pay for the injury, and not be punished further, unless he have on his hands the stain of blood. in this case he shall be exiled for a year, and if he return before the expiration of the year, he shall be retained in the public prison two years. homicides may be divided into voluntary and involuntary: and first of involuntary homicide. he who unintentionally kills another man at the games or in military exercises duly authorized by the magistrates, whether death follow immediately or after an interval, shall be acquitted, subject only to the purification required by the delphian oracle. any physician whose patient dies against his will shall in like manner be acquitted. any one who unintentionally kills the slave of another, believing that he is his own, with or without weapons, shall bear the master of the slave harmless, or pay a penalty amounting to twice the value of the slave, and to this let him add a purification greater than in the case of homicide at the games. if a man kill his own slave, a purification only is required of him. if he kill a freeman unintentionally, let him also make purification; and let him remember the ancient tradition which says that the murdered man is indignant when he sees the murderer walk about in his own accustomed haunts, and that he terrifies him with the remembrance of his crime. and therefore the homicide should keep away from his native land for a year, or, if he have slain a stranger, let him avoid the land of the stranger for a like period. if he complies with this condition, the nearest kinsman of the deceased shall take pity upon him and be reconciled to him; but if he refuses to remain in exile, or visits the temples unpurified, then let the kinsman proceed against him, and demand a double penalty. the kinsman who neglects this duty shall himself incur the curse, and any one who likes may proceed against him, and compel him to leave his country for five years. if a stranger involuntarily kill a stranger, any one may proceed against him in the same manner: and the homicide, if he be a metic, shall be banished for a year; but if he be an entire stranger, whether he have murdered metic, citizen, or stranger, he shall be banished for ever; and if he return, he shall be punished with death, and his property shall go to the next of kin of the murdered man. if he come back by sea against his will, he shall remain on the seashore, wetting his feet in the water while he waits for a vessel to sail; or if he be brought back by land, the magistrates shall send him unharmed beyond the border. next follows murder done from anger, which is of two kinds--either arising out of a sudden impulse, and attended with remorse; or committed with premeditation, and unattended with remorse. the cause of both is anger, and both are intermediate between voluntary and involuntary. the one which is committed from sudden impulse, though not wholly involuntary, bears the image of the involuntary, and is therefore the more excusable of the two, and should receive a gentler punishment. the act of him who nurses his wrath is more voluntary, and therefore more culpable. the degree of culpability depends on the presence or absence of intention, to which the degree of punishment should correspond. for the first kind of murder, that which is done on a momentary impulse, let two years' exile be the penalty; for the second, that which is accompanied with malice prepense, three. when the time of any one's exile has expired, the guardians shall send twelve judges to the borders of the land, who shall have authority to decide whether he may return or not. he who after returning repeats the offence, shall be exiled and return no more, and, if he return, shall be put to death, like the stranger in a similar case. he who in a fit of anger kills his own slave, shall purify himself; and he who kills another man's slave, shall pay to his master double the value. any one may proceed against the offender if he appear in public places, not having been purified; and may bring to trial both the next of kin to the dead man and the homicide, and compel the one to exact, and the other to pay, a double penalty. if a slave kill his master, or a freeman who is not his master, in anger, the kinsmen of the murdered person may do with the murderer whatever they please, but they must not spare his life. if a father or mother kill their son or daughter in anger, let the slayer remain in exile for three years; and on the return of the exile let the parents separate, and no longer continue to cohabit, or have the same sacred rites with those whom he or she has deprived of a brother or sister. the same penalty is decreed against the husband who murders his wife, and also against the wife who murders her husband. let them be absent three years, and on their return never again share in the same sacred rites with their children, or sit at the same table with them. nor is a brother or sister who have lifted up their hands against a brother or sister, ever to come under the same roof or share in the same rites with those whom they have robbed of a child. if a son feels such hatred against his father or mother as to take the life of either of them, then, if the parent before death forgive him, he shall only suffer the penalty due to involuntary homicide; but if he be unforgiven, there are many laws against which he has offended; he is guilty of outrage, impiety, sacrilege all in one, and deserves to be put to death many times over. for if the law will not allow a man to kill the authors of his being even in self-defence, what other penalty than death can be inflicted upon him who in a fit of passion wilfully slays his father or mother? if a brother kill a brother in self-defence during a civil broil, or a citizen a citizen, or a slave a slave, or a stranger a stranger, let them be free from blame, as he is who slays an enemy in battle. but if a slave kill a freeman, let him be as a parricide. in all cases, however, the forgiveness of the injured party shall acquit the agents; and then they shall only be purified, and remain in exile for a year. enough of actions that are involuntary, or done in anger; let us proceed to voluntary and premeditated actions. the great source of voluntary crime is the desire of money, which is begotten by evil education; and this arises out of the false praise of riches, common both among hellenes and barbarians; they think that to be the first of goods which is really the third. for the body is not for the sake of wealth, but wealth for the body, as the body is for the soul. if this were better understood, the crime of murder, of which avarice is the chief cause, would soon cease among men. next to avarice, ambition is a source of crime, troublesome to the ambitious man himself, as well as to the chief men of the state. and next to ambition, base fear is a motive, which has led many an one to commit murder in order that he may get rid of the witnesses of his crimes. let this be said as a prelude to all enactments about crimes of violence; and the tradition must not be forgotten, which tells that the murderer is punished in the world below, and that when he returns to this world he meets the fate which he has dealt out to others. if a man is deterred by the prelude and the fear of future punishment, he will have no need of the law; but in case he disobey, let the law be declared against him as follows:--he who of malice prepense kills one of his kindred, shall in the first place be outlawed; neither temple, harbour, nor agora shall be polluted by his presence. and if a kinsman of the deceased refuse to proceed against his slayer, he shall take the curse of pollution upon himself, and also be liable to be prosecuted by any one who will avenge the dead. the prosecutor, however, must observe the customary ceremonial before he proceeds against the offender. the details of these observances will be best determined by a conclave of prophets and interpreters and guardians of the law, and the judges of the cause itself shall be the same as in cases of sacrilege. he who is convicted shall be punished with death, and not be buried within the country of the murdered person. he who flies from the law shall undergo perpetual banishment; if he return, he may be put to death with impunity by any relative of the murdered man or by any other citizen, or bound and delivered to the magistrates. he who accuses a man of murder shall demand satisfactory bail of the accused, and if this is not forthcoming, the magistrate shall keep him in prison against the day of trial. if a man commit murder by the hand of another, he shall be tried in the same way as in the cases previously supposed, but if the offender be a citizen, his body after execution shall be buried within the land. if a slave kill a freeman, either with his own hand or by contrivance, let him be led either to the grave or to a place whence he can see the grave of the murdered man, and there receive as many stripes at the hand of the public executioner as the person who took him pleases; and if he survive he shall be put to death. if a slave be put out of the way to prevent his informing of some crime, his death shall be punished like that of a citizen. if there are any of those horrible murders of kindred which sometimes occur even in well-regulated societies, and of which the legislator, however unwilling, cannot avoid taking cognizance, he will repeat the old myth of the divine vengeance against the perpetrators of such atrocities. the myth will say that the murderer must suffer what he has done: if he have slain his father, he must be slain by his children; if his mother, he must become a woman and perish at the hands of his offspring in another age of the world. such a preamble may terrify him; but if, notwithstanding, in some evil hour he murders father or mother or brethren or children, the mode of proceeding shall be as follows:--him who is convicted, the officers of the judges shall lead to a spot without the city where three ways meet, and there slay him and expose his body naked; and each of the magistrates shall cast a stone upon his head and justify the city, and he shall be thrown unburied beyond the border. but what shall we say of him who takes the life which is dearest to him, that is to say, his own; and this not from any disgrace or calamity, but from cowardice and indolence? the manner of his burial and the purification of his crime is a matter for god and the interpreters to decide and for his kinsmen to execute. let him, at any rate, be buried alone in some uncultivated and nameless spot, and be without name or monument. if a beast kill a man, not in a public contest, let it be prosecuted for murder, and after condemnation slain and cast without the border. also inanimate things which have caused death, except in the case of lightning and other visitations from heaven, shall be carried without the border. if the body of a dead man be found, and the murderer remain unknown, the trial shall take place all the same, and the unknown murderer shall be warned not to set foot in the temples or come within the borders of the land; if discovered, he shall die, and his body shall be cast out. a man is justified in taking the life of a burglar, of a footpad, of a violator of women or youth; and he may take the life of another with impunity in defence of father, mother, brother, wife, or other relations. the nurture and education which are necessary to the existence of men have been considered, and the punishment of acts of violence which destroy life. there remain maiming, wounding, and the like, which admit of a similar division into voluntary and involuntary. about this class of actions the preamble shall be: whereas men would be like wild beasts unless they obeyed the laws, the first duty of citizens is the care of the public interests, which unite and preserve states, as private interests distract them. a man may know what is for the public good, but if he have absolute power, human nature will impel him to seek pleasure instead of virtue, and so darkness will come over his soul and over the state. if he had mind, he would have no need of law; for mind is the perfection of law. but such a freeman, 'whom the truth makes free,' is hardly to be found; and therefore law and order are necessary, which are the second-best, and they regulate things as they exist in part only, but cannot take in the whole. for actions have innumerable characteristics, which must be partly determined by the law and partly left to the judge. the judge must determine the fact; and to him also the punishment must sometimes be left. what shall the law prescribe, and what shall be left to the judge? a city is unfortunate in which the tribunals are either secret and speechless, or, what is worse, noisy and public, when the people, as if they were in a theatre, clap and hoot the various speakers. such courts a legislator would rather not have; but if he is compelled to have them, he will speak distinctly, and leave as little as possible to their discretion. but where the courts are good, and presided over by well-trained judges, the penalties to be inflicted may be in a great measure left to them; and as there are to be good courts among our colonists, we need not determine beforehand the exact proportion of the penalty and the crime. returning, then, to our legislator, let us indite a law about wounding, which shall run as follows:--he who wounds with intent to kill, and fails in his object, shall be tried as if he had succeeded. but since god has favoured both him and his victim, instead of being put to death, he shall be allowed to go into exile and take his property with him, the damage due to the sufferer having been previously estimated by the court, which shall be the same as would have tried the case if death had ensued. if a child should intentionally wound a parent, or a servant his master, or brother or sister wound brother or sister with malice prepense, the penalty shall be death. if a husband or wife wound one another with intent to kill, the penalty which is inflicted upon them shall be perpetual exile; and if they have young children, the guardians shall take care of them and administer their property as if they were orphans. if they have no children, their kinsmen male and female shall meet, and after a consultation with the priests and guardians of the law, shall appoint an heir of the house; for the house and family belong to the state, being a th portion of the whole. and the state is bound to preserve her families happy and holy; therefore, when the heir of a house has committed a capital offence, or is in exile for life, the house is to be purified, and then the kinsmen of the house and the guardians of the law are to find out a family which has a good name and in which there are many sons, and introduce one of them to be the heir and priest of the house. he shall assume the fathers and ancestors of the family, while the first son dies in dishonour and his name is blotted out. some actions are intermediate between the voluntary and involuntary. those done from anger are of this class. if a man wound another in anger, let him pay double the damage, if the injury is curable; or fourfold, if curable, and at the same time dishonourable; and fourfold, if incurable; the amount is to be assessed by the judges. if the wounded person is rendered incapable of military service, the injurer, besides the other penalties, shall serve in his stead, or be liable to a suit for refusing to serve. if brother wounds brother, then their parents and kindred, of both sexes, shall meet and judge the crime. the damages shall be assessed by the parents; and if the amount fixed by them is disputed, an appeal shall be made to the male kindred; or in the last resort to the guardians of the law. parents who wound their children are to be tried by judges of at least sixty years of age, who have children of their own; and they are to determine whether death, or some lesser punishment, is to be inflicted upon them--no relatives are to take part in the trial. if a slave in anger smite a freeman, he is to be delivered up by his master to the injured person. if the master suspect collusion between the slave and the injured person, he may bring the matter to trial: and if he fail he shall pay three times the injury; or if he obtain a conviction, the contriver of the conspiracy shall be liable to an action for kidnapping. he who wounds another unintentionally shall only pay for the actual harm done. in all outrages and acts of violence, the elder is to be more regarded than the younger. an injury done by a younger man to an elder is abominable and hateful; but the younger man who is struck by an elder is to bear with him patiently, considering that he who is twenty years older is loco parentis, and remembering the reverence which is due to the gods who preside over birth. let him keep his hands, too, from the stranger; instead of taking upon himself to chastise him when he is insolent, he shall bring him before the wardens of the city, who shall examine into the case, and if they find him guilty, shall scourge him with as many blows as he has given; or if he be innocent, they shall warn and threaten his accuser. when an equal strikes an equal, whether an old man an old man, or a young man a young man, let them use only their fists and have no weapons. he who being above forty years of age commences a fight, or retaliates, shall be counted mean and base. to this preamble, let the law be added: if a man smite another who is his elder by twenty years or more, let the bystander, in case he be older than the combatants, part them; or if he be younger than the person struck, or of the same age with him, let him defend him as he would a father or brother; and let the striker be brought to trial, and if convicted imprisoned for a year or more at the discretion of the judges. if a stranger smite one who is his elder by twenty years or more, he shall be imprisoned for two years, and a metic, in like case, shall suffer three years' imprisonment. he who is standing by and gives no assistance, shall be punished according to his class in one of four penalties--a mina, fifty, thirty, twenty drachmas. the generals and other superior officers of the army shall form the court which tries this class of offences. laws are made to instruct the good, and in the hope that there may be no need of them; also to control the bad, whose hardness of heart will not be hindered from crime. the uttermost penalty will fall upon those who lay violent hands upon a parent, having no fear of the gods above, or of the punishments which will pursue them in the world below. they are too wise in their own conceits to believe in such things: wherefore the tortures which await them in another life must be anticipated in this. let the law be as follows:-- if a man, being in his right mind, dare to smite his father and mother, or his grandfather and grandmother, let the passer-by come to the rescue; and if he be a metic or stranger who comes to the rescue, he shall have the first place at the games; or if he do not come to the rescue, he shall be a perpetual exile. let the citizen in the like case be praised or blamed, and the slave receive freedom or a hundred stripes. the wardens of the agora, the city, or the country, as the case may be, shall see to the execution of the law. and he who is an inhabitant of the same place and is present shall come to the rescue, or he shall fall under a curse. if a man be convicted of assaulting his parents, let him be banished for ever from the city into the country, and let him abstain from all sacred rites; and if he do not abstain, let him be punished by the wardens of the country; and if he return to the city, let him be put to death. if any freeman consort with him, let him be purified before he returns to the city. if a slave strike a freeman, whether citizen or stranger, let the bystander be obliged to seize and deliver him into the hands of the injured person, who may inflict upon him as many blows as he pleases, and shall then return him to his master. the law will be as follows:--the slave who strikes a freeman shall be bound by his master, and not set at liberty without the consent of the person whom he has injured. all these laws apply to women as well as to men. book x. the greatest wrongs arise out of youthful insolence, and the greatest of all are committed against public temples; they are in the second degree great when private rites and sepulchres are insulted; in the third degree, when committed against parents; in the fourth degree, when they are done against the authority or property of the rulers; in the fifth degree, when the rights of individuals are violated. most of these offences have been already considered; but there remains the question of admonition and punishment of offences against the gods. let the admonition be in the following terms:--no man who ever intentionally did or said anything impious, had a true belief in the existence of the gods; but either he thought that there were no gods, or that they did not care about men, or that they were easily appeased by sacrifices and prayers. 'what shall we say or do to such persons?' my good sir, let us first hear the jests which they in their superiority will make upon us. 'what will they say?' probably something of this kind:--'strangers you are right in thinking that some of us do not believe in the existence of the gods; while others assert that they do not care for us, and others that they are propitiated by prayers and offerings. but we want you to argue with us before you threaten; you should prove to us by reasonable evidence that there are gods, and that they are too good to be bribed. poets, priests, prophets, rhetoricians, even the best of them, speak to us of atoning for evil, and not of avoiding it. from legislators who profess to be gentle we ask for instruction, which may, at least, have the persuasive power of truth, if no other.' what have you to say? 'well, there is no difficulty in proving the being of the gods. the sun, and earth, and stars, moving in their courses, the recurring seasons, furnish proofs of their existence; and there is the general opinion of mankind.' i fear that the unbelievers--not that i care for their opinion--will despise us. you are not aware that their impiety proceeds, not from sensuality, but from ignorance taking the garb of wisdom. 'what do you mean?' at athens there are tales current both in prose and verse of a kind which are not tolerated in a well-regulated state like yours. the oldest of them relate the origin of the world, and the birth and life of the gods. these narratives have a bad influence on family relations; but as they are old we will let them pass, and consider another kind of tales, invented by the wisdom of a younger generation, who, if any one argues for the existence of the gods and claims that the stars have a divine being, insist that these are mere earth and stones, which can have no care of human things, and that all theology is a cooking up of words. now what course ought we to take? shall we suppose some impious man to charge us with assuming the existence of the gods, and make a defence? or shall we leave the preamble and go on to the laws? 'there is no hurry, and we have often said that the shorter and worse method should not be preferred to the longer and better. the proof that there are gods who are good, and the friends of justice, is the best preamble of all our laws.' come, let us talk with the impious, who have been brought up from their infancy in the belief of religion, and have heard their own fathers and mothers praying for them and talking with the gods as if they were absolutely convinced of their existence; who have seen mankind prostrate in prayer at the rising and setting of the sun and moon and at every turn of fortune, and have dared to despise and disbelieve all this. can we keep our temper with them, when they compel us to argue on such a theme? we must; or like them we shall go mad, though with more reason. let us select one of them and address him as follows: o my son, you are young; time and experience will make you change many of your opinions. do not be hasty in forming a conclusion about the divine nature; and let me mention to you a fact which i know. you and your friends are not the first or the only persons who have had these notions about the gods. there are always a considerable number who are infected by them: i have known many myself, and can assure you that no one who was an unbeliever in his youth ever persisted till he was old in denying the existence of the gods. the two other opinions, first, that the gods exist and have no care of men, secondly, that they care for men, but may be propitiated by sacrifices and prayers, may indeed last through life in a few instances, but even this is not common. i would beg of you to be patient, and learn the truth of the legislator and others; in the mean time abstain from impiety. 'so far, our discourse has gone well.' i will now speak of a strange doctrine, which is regarded by many as the crown of philosophy. they affirm that all things come into being either by art or nature or chance, and that the greater things are done by nature and chance, and the lesser things by art, which receiving from nature the greater creations, moulds and fashions all those lesser works which are termed works of art. their meaning is that fire, water, earth, and air all exist by nature and chance, and not by art; and that out of these, according to certain chance affinities of opposites, the sun, the moon, the stars, and the earth have been framed, not by any action of mind, but by nature and chance only. thus, in their opinion, the heaven and earth were created, as well as the animals and plants. art came later, and is of mortal birth; by her power were invented certain images and very partial imitations of the truth, of which kind are the creations of musicians and painters: but they say that there are other arts which combine with nature, and have a deeper truth, such as medicine, husbandry, gymnastic. also the greater part of politics they imagine to co-operate with nature, but in a less degree, having more of art, while legislation is declared by them to be wholly a work of art. 'how do you mean?' in the first place, they say that the gods exist neither by nature nor by art, but by the laws of states, which are different in different countries; and that virtue is one thing by nature and another by convention; and that justice is altogether conventional, made by law, and having authority for the moment only. this is repeated to young men by sages and poets, and leads to impiety, and the pretended life according to nature and in disobedience to law; for nobody believes the gods to be such as the law affirms. 'how true! and oh! how injurious to states and to families!' but then, what should the lawgiver do? should he stand up in the state and threaten mankind with the severest penalties if they persist in their unbelief, while he makes no attempt to win them by persuasion? 'nay, stranger, the legislator ought never to weary of trying to persuade the world that there are gods; and he should declare that law and art exist by nature.' yes, cleinias; but these are difficult and tedious questions. 'and shall our patience, which was not exhausted in the enquiry about music or drink, fail now that we are discoursing about the gods? there may be a difficulty in framing laws, but when written down they remain, and time and diligence will make them clear; if they are useful there would be neither reason nor religion in rejecting them on account of their length.' most true. and the general spread of unbelief shows that the legislator should do something in vindication of the laws, when they are being undermined by bad men. 'he should.' you agree with me, cleinias, that the heresy consists in supposing earth, air, fire, and water to be the first of all things. these the heretics call nature, conceiving them to be prior to the soul. 'i agree.' you would further agree that natural philosophy is the source of this impiety--the study appears to be pursued in a wrong way. 'in what way do you mean?' the error consists in transposing first and second causes. they do not see that the soul is before the body, and before all other things, and the author and ruler of them all. and if the soul is prior to the body, then the things of the soul are prior to the things of the body. in other words, opinion, attention, mind, art, law, are prior to sensible qualities; and the first and greater works of creation are the results of art and mind, whereas the works of nature, as they are improperly termed, are secondary and subsequent. 'why do you say "improperly"?' because when they speak of nature they seem to mean the first creative power. but if the soul is first, and not fire and air, then the soul above all things may be said to exist by nature. and this can only be on the supposition that the soul is prior to the body. shall we try to prove that it is so? 'by all means.' i fear that the greenness of our argument will ludicrously contrast with the ripeness of our ages. but as we must go into the water, and the stream is strong, i will first attempt to cross by myself, and if i arrive at the bank, you shall follow. remembering that you are unaccustomed to such discussions, i will ask and answer the questions myself, while you listen in safety. but first i must pray the gods to assist at the demonstration of their own existence--if ever we are to call upon them, now is the time. let me hold fast to the rope, and enter into the depths: shall i put the question to myself in this form?--are all things at rest, and is nothing in motion? or are some things in motion, and some things at rest? 'the latter.' and do they move and rest, some in one place, some in more? 'yes.' there may be ( ) motion in the same place, as in revolution on an axis, which is imparted swiftly to the larger and slowly to the lesser circle; and there may be motion in different places, having sometimes ( ) one centre of motion and sometimes ( ) more. ( ) when bodies in motion come against other bodies which are at rest, they are divided by them, and ( ) when they are caught between other bodies coming from opposite directions they unite with them; and ( ) they grow by union and ( ) waste by dissolution while their constitution remains the same, but are ( ) destroyed when their constitution fails. there is a growth from one dimension to two, and from a second to a third, which then becomes perceptible to sense; this process is called generation, and the opposite, destruction. we have now enumerated all possible motions with the exception of two. 'what are they?' just the two with which our enquiry is concerned; for our enquiry relates to the soul. there is one kind of motion which is only able to move other things; there is another which can move itself as well, working in composition and decomposition, by increase and diminution, by generation and destruction. 'granted.' ( ) that which moves and is moved by another is the ninth kind of motion; ( ) that which is self-moved and moves others is the tenth. and this tenth kind of motion is the mightiest, and is really the first, and is followed by that which was improperly called the ninth. 'how do you mean?' must not that which is moved by others finally depend upon that which is moved by itself? nothing can be affected by any transition prior to self-motion. then the first and eldest principle of motion, whether in things at rest or not at rest, will be the principle of self-motion; and that which is moved by others and can move others will be the second. 'true.' let me ask another question: what is the name which is given to self-motion when manifested in any material substance? 'life.' and soul too is life? 'very good.' and are there not three kinds of knowledge--a knowledge ( ) of the essence, ( ) of the definition, ( ) of the name? and sometimes the name leads us to ask the definition, sometimes the definition to ask the name. for example, number can be divided into equal parts, and when thus divided is termed even, and the definition of even and the word 'even' refer to the same thing. 'very true.' and what is the definition of the thing which is named 'soul'? must we not reply, 'the self-moved'? and have we not proved that the self-moved is the source of motion in other things? 'yes.' and the motion which is not self-moved will be inferior to this? 'true.' and if so, we shall be right in saying that the soul is prior and superior to the body, and the body by nature subject and inferior to the soul? 'quite right.' and we agreed that if the soul was prior to the body, the things of the soul were prior to the things of the body? 'certainly.' and therefore desires, and manners, and thoughts, and true opinions, and recollections, are prior to the length and breadth and force of bodies. 'to be sure.' in the next place, we acknowledge that the soul is the cause of good and evil, just and unjust, if we suppose her to be the cause of all things? 'certainly.' and the soul which orders all things must also order the heavens? 'of course.' one soul or more? more; for less than two are inconceivable, one good, the other evil. 'most true.' the soul directs all things by her movements, which we call will, consideration, attention, deliberation, opinion true and false, joy, sorrow, courage, fear, hatred, love, and similar affections. these are the primary movements, and they receive the secondary movements of bodies, and guide all things to increase and diminution, separation and union, and to all the qualities which accompany them--cold, hot, heavy, light, hard, soft, white, black, sweet, bitter; these and other such qualities the soul, herself a goddess, uses, when truly receiving the divine mind she leads all things rightly to their happiness; but under the impulse of folly she works out an opposite result. for the controller of heaven and earth and the circle of the world is either the wise and good soul, or the foolish and vicious soul, working in them. 'what do you mean?' if we say that the whole course and motion of heaven and earth is in accordance with the workings and reasonings of mind, clearly the best soul must have the care of the heaven, and guide it along that better way. 'true.' but if the heavens move wildly and disorderly, then they must be under the guidance of the evil soul. 'true again.' what is the nature of the movement of the soul? we must not suppose that we can see and know the soul with our bodily eyes, any more than we can fix them on the midday sun; it will be safer to look at an image only. 'how do you mean?' let us find among the ten kinds of motion an image of the motion of the mind. you remember, as we said, that all things are divided into two classes; and some of them were moved and some at rest. 'yes.' and of those which were moved, some were moved in the same place, others in more places than one. 'just so.' the motion which was in one place was circular, like the motion of a spherical body; and such a motion in the same place, and in the same relations, is an excellent image of the motion of mind. 'very true.' the motion of the other sort, which has no fixed place or manner or relation or order or proportion, is akin to folly and nonsense. 'very true.' after what has been said, it is clear that, since the soul carries round all things, some soul which is either very good or the opposite carries round the circumference of heaven. but that soul can be no other than the best. again, the soul carries round the sun, moon, and stars, and if the sun has a soul, then either the soul of the sun is within and moves the sun as the human soul moves the body; or, secondly, the sun is contained in some external air or fire, which the soul provides and through which she operates; or, thirdly, the course of the sun is guided by the soul acting in a wonderful manner without a body. 'yes, in one of those ways the soul must guide all things.' and this soul of the sun, which is better than the sun, whether driving him in a chariot or employing any other agency, is by every man called a god? 'yes, by every man who has any sense.' and of the seasons, stars, moon, and year, in like manner, it may be affirmed that the soul or souls from which they derive their excellence are divine; and without insisting on the manner of their working, no one can deny that all things are full of gods. 'no one.' and now let us offer an alternative to him who denies that there are gods. either he must show that the soul is not the origin of all things, or he must live for the future in the belief that there are gods. next, as to the man who believes in the gods, but refuses to acknowledge that they take care of human things--let him too have a word of admonition. 'best of men,' we will say to him, 'some affinity to the gods leads you to honour them and to believe in them. but you have heard the happiness of wicked men sung by poets and admired by the world, and this has drawn you away from your natural piety. or you have seen the wicked growing old in prosperity, and leaving great offices to their children; or you have watched the tyrant succeeding in his career of crime; and considering all these things you have been led to believe in an irrational way that the gods take no care of human affairs. that your error may not increase, i will endeavour to purify your soul.' do you, megillus and cleinias, make answer for the youth, and when we come to a difficulty, i will carry you over the water as i did before. 'very good.' he will easily be convinced that the gods care for the small as well as the great; for he heard what was said of their goodness and of their having all things under their care. 'he certainly heard.' then now let us enquire what is meant by the virtue of the gods. to possess mind belongs to virtue, and the contrary to vice. 'that is what we say.' and is not courage a part of virtue, and cowardice of vice? 'certainly.' and to the gods we ascribe virtues; but idleness and indolence are not virtues. 'of course not.' and is god to be conceived of as a careless, indolent fellow, such as the poet would compare to a stingless drone? 'impossible.' can we be right in praising any one who cares for great matters and leaves the small to take care of themselves? whether god or man, he who does so, must either think the neglect of such matters to be of no consequence, or he is indolent and careless. for surely neither of them can be charged with neglect if they fail to attend to something which is beyond their power? 'certainly not.' and now we will examine the two classes of offenders who admit that there are gods, but say,--the one that they may be appeased, the other that they take no care of small matters: do they not acknowledge that the gods are omnipotent and omniscient, and also good and perfect? 'certainly.' then they cannot be indolent, for indolence is the offspring of idleness, and idleness of cowardice, and there is no cowardice in god. 'true.' if the gods neglect small matters, they must either know or not know that such things are not to be regarded. but of course they know that they should be regarded, and knowing, they cannot be supposed to neglect their duty, overcome by the seductions of pleasure or pain. 'impossible.' and do not all human things share in soul, and is not man the most religious of animals and the possession of the gods? and the gods, who are the best of owners, will surely take care of their property, small or great. consider further, that the greater the power of perception, the less the power of action. for it is harder to see and hear the small than the great, but easier to control them. suppose a physician who had to cure a patient--would he ever succeed if he attended to the great and neglected the little? 'impossible.' is not life made up of littles?--the pilot, general, householder, statesman, all attend to small matters; and the builder will tell you that large stones do not lie well without small ones. and god is not inferior to mortal craftsmen, who in proportion to their skill are careful in the details of their work; we must not imagine the best and wisest to be a lazy good-for-nothing, who wearies of his work and hurries over small and easy matters. 'never, never!' he who charges the gods with neglect has been forced to admit his error; but i should like further to persuade him that the author of all has made every part for the sake of the whole, and that the smallest part has an appointed state of action or passion, and that the least action or passion of any part has a presiding minister. you, we say to him, are a minute fraction of this universe, created with a view to the whole; the world is not made for you, but you for the world; for the good artist considers the whole first, and afterwards the parts. and you are annoyed at not seeing how you and the universe are all working together for the best, so far as the laws of the common creation admit. the soul undergoes many changes from her contact with bodies; and all that the player does is to put the pieces into their right places. 'what do you mean?' i mean that god acts in the way which is simplest and easiest. had each thing been formed without any regard to the rest, the transposition of the cosmos would have been endless; but now there is not much trouble in the government of the world. for when the king saw the actions of the living souls and bodies, and the virtue and vice which were in them, and the indestructibility of the soul and body (although they were not eternal), he contrived so to arrange them that virtue might conquer and vice be overcome as far as possible; giving them a seat and room adapted to them, but leaving the direction of their separate actions to men's own wills, which make our characters to be what they are. 'that is very probable.' all things which have a soul possess in themselves the principle of change, and in changing move according to fate and law; natures which have undergone lesser changes move on the surface; but those which have changed utterly for the worse, sink into hades and the infernal world. and in all great changes for good and evil which are produced either by the will of the soul or the influence of others, there is a change of place. the good soul, which has intercourse with the divine nature, passes into a holier and better place; and the evil soul, as she grows worse, changes her place for the worse. this,--as we declare to the youth who fancies that he is neglected of the gods,--is the law of divine justice--the worse to the worse, the better to the better, like to like, in life and in death. and from this law no man will ever boast that he has escaped. even if you say--'i am small, and will creep into the earth,' or 'i am high, and will mount to heaven'--you are not so small or so high that you shall not pay the fitting penalty, either here or in the world below. this is also the explanation of the seeming prosperity of the wicked, in whose actions as in a mirror you imagined that you saw the neglect of the gods, not considering that they make all things contribute to the whole. and how then could you form any idea of true happiness?--if cleinias and megillus and i have succeeded in persuading you that you know not what you say about the gods, god will help you; but if there is still any deficiency of proof, hear our answer to the third opponent. enough has been said to prove that the gods exist and care for us; that they can be propitiated, or that they receive gifts, is not to be allowed or admitted for an instant. 'let us proceed with the argument.' tell me, by the gods, i say, how the gods are to be propitiated by us? are they not rulers, who may be compared to charioteers, pilots, perhaps generals, or physicians providing against the assaults of disease, husbandmen observing the perils of the seasons, shepherds watching their flocks? to whom shall we compare them? we acknowledged that the world is full both of good and evil, but having more of evil than of good. there is an immortal conflict going on, in which gods and demigods are our allies, and we their property; for injustice and folly and wickedness make war in our souls upon justice and temperance and wisdom. there is little virtue to be found on earth; and evil natures fawn upon the gods, like wild beasts upon their keepers, and believe that they can win them over by flattery and prayers. and this sin, which is termed dishonesty, is to the soul what disease is to the body, what pestilence is to the seasons, what injustice is to states. 'quite so.' and they who maintain that the gods can be appeased must say that they forgive the sins of men, if they are allowed to share in their spoils; as you might suppose wolves to mollify the dogs by throwing them a portion of the prey. 'that is the argument.' but let us apply our images to the gods--are they the pilots who are won by gifts to wreck their own ships--or the charioteers who are bribed to lose the race--or the generals, or doctors, or husbandmen, who are perverted from their duty--or the dogs who are silenced by wolves? 'god forbid.' are they not rather our best guardians; and shall we suppose them to fall short even of a moderate degree of human or even canine virtue, which will not betray justice for reward? 'impossible.' he, then, who maintains such a doctrine, is the most blasphemous of mankind. and now our three points are proven; and we are agreed ( ) that there are gods, ( ) that they care for men, ( ) that they cannot be bribed to do injustice. i have spoken warmly, from a fear lest this impiety of theirs should lead to a perversion of life. and our warmth will not have been in vain, if we have succeeded in persuading these men to abominate themselves, and to change their ways. 'so let us hope.' then now that the preamble is completed, we will make a proclamation commanding the impious to renounce their evil ways; and in case they refuse, the law shall be added:--if a man is guilty of impiety in word or deed, let the bystander inform the magistrates, and let the magistrates bring the offender before the court; and if any of the magistrates refuses to act, he likewise shall be tried for impiety. any one who is found guilty of such an offence shall be fined at the discretion of the court, and shall also be punished by a term of imprisonment. there shall be three prisons--one for common offences against life and property; another, near by the spot where the nocturnal council will assemble, which is to be called the 'house of reformation'; the third, to be situated in some desolate region in the centre of the country, shall be called by a name indicating retribution. there are three causes of impiety, and from each of them spring impieties of two kinds, six in all. first, there is the impiety of those who deny the existence of the gods; these may be honest men, haters of evil, who are only dangerous because they talk loosely about the gods and make others like themselves; but there is also a more vicious class, who are full of craft and licentiousness. to this latter belong diviners, jugglers, despots, demagogues, generals, hierophants of private mysteries, and sophists. the first class shall be only imprisoned and admonished. the second class should be put to death, if they could be, many times over. the two other sorts of impiety, first of those who deny the care of the gods, and secondly, of those who affirm that they may be propitiated, have similar subdivisions, varying in degree of guilt. those who have learnt to blaspheme from mere ignorance shall be imprisoned in the house of reformation for five years at least, and not allowed to see any one but members of the nocturnal council, who shall converse with them touching their souls health. if any of the prisoners come to their right mind, at the end of five years let them be restored to sane company; but he who again offends shall die. as to that class of monstrous natures who not only believe that the gods are negligent, or may be propitiated, but pretend to practise on the souls of quick and dead, and promise to charm the gods, and to effect the ruin of houses and states--he, i say, who is guilty of these things, shall be bound in the central prison, and shall have no intercourse with any freeman, receiving only his daily rations of food from the public slaves; and when he dies, let him be cast beyond the border; and if any freeman assist to bury him, he shall be liable to a suit for impiety. but the sins of the father shall not be visited upon his children, who, like other orphans, shall be educated by the state. further, let there be a general law which will have a tendency to repress impiety. no man shall have religious services in his house, but he shall go with his friends to pray and sacrifice in the temples. the reason of this is, that religious institutions can only be framed by a great intelligence. but women and weak men are always consecrating the event of the moment; they are under the influence of dreams and apparitions, and they build altars and temples in every village and in any place where they have had a vision. the law is designed to prevent this, and also to deter men from attempting to propitiate the gods by secret sacrifices, which only multiply their sins. therefore let the law run:--no one shall have private religious rites; and if a man or woman who has not been previously noted for any impiety offend in this way, let them be admonished to remove their rites to a public temple; but if the offender be one of the obstinate sort, he shall be brought to trial before the guardians, and if he be found guilty, let him die. book xi. as to dealings between man and man, the principle of them is simple--thou shalt not take what is not thine; and shalt do to others as thou wouldst that they should do to thee. first, of treasure trove:--may i never desire to find, or lift, if i find, or be induced by the counsel of diviners to lift, a treasure which one who was not my ancestor has laid down; for i shall not gain so much in money as i shall lose in virtue. the saying, 'move not the immovable,' may be repeated in a new sense; and there is a common belief which asserts that such deeds prevent a man from having a family. to him who is careless of such consequences, and, despising the word of the wise, takes up a treasure which is not his--what will be done by the hand of the gods, god only knows,--but i would have the first person who sees the offender, inform the wardens of the city or the country; and they shall send to delphi for a decision, and whatever the oracle orders, they shall carry out. if the informer be a freeman, he shall be honoured, and if a slave, set free; but he who does not inform, if he be a freeman, shall be dishonoured, and if a slave, shall be put to death. if a man leave anywhere anything great or small, intentionally or unintentionally, let him who may find the property deem the deposit sacred to the goddess of ways. and he who appropriates the same, if he be a slave, shall be beaten with many stripes; if a freeman, he shall pay tenfold, and be held to have done a dishonourable action. if a person says that another has something of his, and the other allows that he has the property in dispute, but maintains it to be his own, let the ownership be proved out of the registers of property. if the property is registered as belonging to some one who is absent, possession shall be given to him who offers sufficient security on behalf of the absentee; or if the property is not registered, let it remain with the three eldest magistrates, and if it should be an animal, the defeated party must pay the cost of its keep. a man may arrest his own slave, and he may also imprison for safe-keeping the runaway slave of a friend. any one interfering with him must produce three sureties; otherwise, he will be liable to an action for violence, and if he be cast, must pay a double amount of damages to him from whom he has taken the slave. a freedman who does not pay due respect to his patron, may also be seized. due respect consists in going three times a month to the house of his patron, and offering to perform any lawful service for him; he must also marry as his master pleases; and if his property be greater than his master's, he must hand over to him the excess. a freedman may not remain in the state, except with the consent of the magistrates and of his master, for more than twenty years; and whenever his census exceeds that of the third class, he must in any case leave the country within thirty days, taking his property with him. if he break this regulation, the penalty shall be death, and his property shall be confiscated. suits about these matters are to be decided in the courts of the tribes, unless the parties have settled the matter before a court of neighbours or before arbiters. if anybody claim a beast, or anything else, let the possessor refer to the seller or giver of the property within thirty days, if the latter reside in the city, or, if the goods have been received from a stranger, within five months, of which the middle month shall include the summer solstice. all purchases and exchanges are to be made in the agora, and paid for on the spot; the law will not allow credit to be given. no law shall protect the money subscribed for clubs. he who sells anything of greater value than fifty drachmas shall abide in the city for ten days, and let his whereabouts be known to the buyer, in case of any reclamation. when a slave is sold who is subject to epilepsy, stone, or any other invisible disorder, the buyer, if he be a physician or trainer, or if he be warned, shall have no redress; but in other cases within six months, or within twelve months in epileptic disorders, he may bring the matter before a jury of physicians to be agreed upon by both parties; and the seller who loses the suit, if he be an expert, shall pay twice the price; or if he be a private person, the bargain shall be rescinded, and he shall simply refund. if a person knowingly sells a homicide to another, who is informed of his character, there is no redress. but if the judges--who are to be the five youngest guardians of the law--decide that the purchaser was not aware, then the seller is to pay threefold, and to purify the house of the buyer. he who exchanges money for money, or beast for beast, must warrant either of them to be sound and good. as in the case of other laws, let us have a preamble, relating to all this class of crime. adulteration is a kind of falsehood about which the many commonly say that at proper times the practice may often be right, but they do not define at what times. but the legislator will tell them, that no man should invoke the gods when he is practising deceit or fraud, in word or deed. for he is the enemy of heaven, first, who swears falsely, not thinking of the gods by whom he swears, and secondly, he who lies to his superiors. (now the superiors are the betters of inferiors,--the elder of the younger, parents of children, men of women, and rulers of subjects.) the trader who cheats in the agora is a liar and is perjured--he respects neither the name of god nor the regulations of the magistrates. if after hearing this he will still be dishonest, let him listen to the law:--the seller shall not have two prices on the same day, neither must he puff his goods, nor offer to swear about them. if he break the law, any citizen not less than thirty years of age may smite him. if he sell adulterated goods, the slave or metic who informs against him shall have the goods; the citizen who brings such a charge, if he prove it, shall offer up the goods in question to the gods of the agora; or if he fail to prove it, shall be dishonoured. he who is detected in selling adulterated goods shall be deprived of them, and shall receive a stripe for every drachma of their value. the wardens of the agora and the guardians of the law shall take experienced persons into counsel, and draw up regulations for the agora. these shall be inscribed on a column in front of the court of the wardens of the agora.--as to the wardens of the city, enough has been said already. but if any omissions in the law are afterwards discovered, the wardens and the guardians shall supply them, and have them inscribed after the original regulations on a column before the court of the wardens of the city. next in order follows the subject of retail trades, which in their natural use are the reverse of mischievous; for every man is a benefactor who reduces what is unequal to symmetry and proportion. money is the instrument by which this is accomplished, and the shop-keeper, the merchant, and hotel-keeper do but supply the wants and equalize the possessions of mankind. why, then, does any dishonour attach to a beneficent occupation? let us consider the nature of the accusation first, and then see whether it can be removed. 'what is your drift?' dear cleinias, there are few men who are so gifted by nature, and improved by education, as to be able to control the desire of making money; or who are sober in their wishes and prefer moderation to accumulation. the great majority think that they can never have enough, and the consequence is that retail trade has become a reproach. whereas, however ludicrous the idea may seem, if noble men and noble women could be induced to open a shop, and to trade upon incorruptible principles, then the aspect of things would change, and retail traders would be regarded as nursing fathers and mothers. in our own day the trader goes and settles in distant places, and receives the weary traveller hospitably at first, but in the end treats him as an enemy and a captive, whom he only liberates for an enormous ransom. this is what has brought retail trade into disrepute, and against this the legislator ought to provide. men have said of old, that to fight against two opponents is hard; and the two opponents of whom i am thinking are wealth and poverty--the one corrupting men by luxury; the other, through misery, depriving them of the sense of shame. what remedies can a city find for this disease? first, to have as few retail traders as possible; secondly, to give retail trade over to a class whose corruption will not injure the state; and thirdly, to restrain the insolence and meanness of the retailers. let us make the following laws:--( ) in the city of the magnetes none of the citizens shall be a retailer or merchant, or do any service to any private persons who do not equally serve him, except to his father and mother and their fathers and mothers, and generally to his elders who are freemen, and whom he serves as a freeman. he who follows an illiberal pursuit may be cited for dishonouring his family, and kept in bonds for a year; and if he offend again, he shall be bound for two years; and for every offence his punishment shall be doubled: ( ) every retailer shall be a metic or a foreigner: ( ) the guardians of the law shall have a special care of this part of the community, whose calling exposes them to peculiar temptations. they shall consult with persons of experience, and find out what prices will yield the traders a moderate profit, and fix them. when a man does not fulfil his contract, he being under no legal or other impediment, the case shall be brought before the court of the tribes, if not previously settled by arbitration. the class of artisans is consecrated to hephaestus and athene; the makers of weapons to ares and athene: all of whom, remembering that the gods are their ancestors, should be ashamed to deceive in the practice of their craft. if any man is lazy in the fulfilment of his work, and fancies, foolish fellow, that his patron god will not deal hardly with him, he will be punished by the god; and let the law follow:--he who fails in his undertaking shall pay the value, and do the work gratis in a specified time. the contractor, like the seller, is enjoined by law to charge the simple value of his work; in a free city, art should be a true thing, and the artist must not practise on the ignorance of others. on the other hand, he who has ordered any work and does not pay the workman according to agreement, dishonours zeus and athene, and breaks the bonds of society. and if he does not pay at the time agreed, let him pay double; and although interest is forbidden in other cases, let the workman receive after the expiration of a year interest at the rate of an obol a month for every drachma (equal to per cent. per ann.). and we may observe by the way, in speaking of craftsmen, that if our military craft do their work well, the state will praise those who honour them, and blame those who do not honour them. not that the first place of honour is to be assigned to the warrior; a higher still is reserved for those who obey the laws. most of the dealings between man and man are now settled, with the exception of such as relate to orphans and guardianships. these lead us to speak of the intentions of the dying, about which we must make regulations. i say 'must'; for mankind cannot be allowed to dispose of their property as they please, in ways at variance with one another and with law and custom. but a dying person is a strange being, and is not easily managed; he wants to be master of all he has, and is apt to use angry words. he will say,--'may i not do what i will with my own, and give much to my friends, and little to my enemies?' 'there is reason in that.' o cleinias, in my judgment the older lawgivers were too soft-hearted, and wanting in insight into human affairs. they were too ready to listen to the outcry of a dying man, and hence they were induced to give him an absolute power of bequest. but i would say to him:--o creature of a day, you know neither what is yours nor yourself: for you and your property are not your own, but belong to your whole family, past and to come, and property and family alike belong to the state. and therefore i must take out of your hands the charge of what you leave behind you, with a view to the interests of all. and i hope that you will not quarrel with us, now that you are going the way of all mankind; we will do our best for you and yours when you are no longer here. let this be our address to the living and dying, and let the law be as follows:--the father who has sons shall appoint one of them to be the heir of the lot; and if he has given any other son to be adopted by another, the adoption shall also be recorded; and if he has still a son who has no lot, and has a chance of going to a colony, he may give him what he has more than the lot; or if he has more than one son unprovided for, he may divide the money between them. a son who has a house of his own, and a daughter who is betrothed, are not to share in the bequest of money; and the son or daughter who, having inherited one lot, acquires another, is to bequeath the new inheritance to the next of kin. if a man have only daughters, he may adopt the husband of any one of them; or if he have lost a son, let him make mention of the circumstance in his will and adopt another. if he have no children, he may give away a tenth of his acquired property to whomsoever he likes; but he must adopt an heir to inherit the lot, and may leave the remainder to him. also he may appoint guardians for his children; or if he die without appointing them or without making a will, the nearest kinsmen,--two on the father's and two on the mother's side,--and one friend of the departed, shall be appointed guardians. the fifteen eldest guardians of the law are to have special charge of all orphans, the whole number of fifteen being divided into bodies of three, who will succeed one another according to seniority every year for five years. if a man dying intestate leave daughters, he must pardon the law which marries them for looking, first to kinship, and secondly to the preservation of the lot. the legislator cannot regard the character of the heir, which to the father is the first consideration. the law will therefore run as follows:--if the intestate leave daughters, husbands are to be found for them among their kindred according to the following table of affinity: first, their father's brothers; secondly, the sons of their father's brothers; thirdly, of their father's sisters; fourthly, their great-uncles; fifthly, the sons of a great-uncle; sixthly, the sons of a great-aunt. the kindred in such cases shall always be reckoned in this way; the relationship shall proceed upwards through brothers and sisters and brothers' and sisters' children, and first the male line must be taken and then the female. if there is a dispute in regard to fitness of age for marriage, this the judge shall decide, after having made an inspection of the youth naked, and of the maiden naked down to the waist. if the maiden has no relations within the degree of third cousin, she may choose whom she likes, with the consent of her guardians; or she may even select some one who has gone to a colony, and he, if he be a kinsman, will take the lot by law; if not, he must have her guardians' consent, as well as hers. when a man dies without children and without a will, let a young man and a young woman go forth from the family and take up their abode in the desolate house. the woman shall be selected from the kindred in the following order of succession:--first, a sister of the deceased; second, a brother's daughter; third, a sister's daughter; fourth, a father's sister; fifth, a daughter of a father's brother; sixth, a daughter of a father's sister. for the man the same order shall be observed as in the preceding case. the legislator foresees that laws of this kind will sometimes press heavily, and that his intention cannot always be fulfilled; as for example, when there are mental and bodily defects in the persons who are enjoined to marry. but he must be excused for not being always able to reconcile the general principles of public interest with the particular circumstances of individuals; and he is willing to allow, in like manner, that the individual cannot always do what the lawgiver wishes. and then arbiters must be chosen, who will determine equitably the cases which may arise under the law: e.g. a rich cousin may sometimes desire a grander match, or the requirements of the law can only be fulfilled by marrying a madwoman. to meet such cases let the following law be enacted:--if any one comes forward and says that the lawgiver, had he been alive, would not have required the carrying out of the law in a particular case, let him go to the fifteen eldest guardians of the law who have the care of orphans; but if he thinks that too much power is thus given to them, he may bring the case before the court of select judges. thus will orphans have a second birth. in order to make their sad condition as light as possible, the guardians of the law shall be their parents, and shall be admonished to take care of them. and what admonition can be more appropriate than the assurance which we formerly gave, that the souls of the dead watch over mortal affairs? about this there are many ancient traditions, which may be taken on trust from the legislator. let men fear, in the first place, the gods above; secondly, the souls of the departed, who naturally care for their own descendants; thirdly, the aged living, who are quick to hear of any neglect of family duties, especially in the case of orphans. for they are the holiest and most sacred of all deposits, and the peculiar care of guardians and magistrates; and those who try to bring them up well will contribute to their own good and to that of their families. he who listens to the preamble of the law will never know the severity of the legislator; but he who disobeys, and injures the orphan, will pay twice the penalty he would have paid if the parents had been alive. more laws might have been made about orphans, did we not suppose that the guardians have children and property of their own which are protected by the laws; and the duty of the guardian in our state is the same as that of a father, though his honour or disgrace is greater. a legal admonition and threat may, however, be of service: the guardian of the orphan and the guardian of the law who is over him, shall love the orphan as their own children, and take more care of his or her property than of their own. if the guardian of the child neglect his duty, the guardian of the law shall fine him; and the guardian may also have the magistrate tried for neglect in the court of select judges, and he shall pay, if convicted, a double penalty. further, the guardian of the orphan who is careless or dishonest may be fined on the information of any of the citizens in a fourfold penalty, half to go to the orphan and half to the prosecutor of the suit. when the orphan is of age, if he thinks that he has been ill-used, his guardian may be brought to trial by him within five years, and the penalty shall be fixed by the court. or if the magistrate has neglected the orphan, he shall pay damages to him; but if he have defrauded him, he shall make compensation and also be deposed from his office of guardian of the law. if irremediable differences arise between fathers and sons, the father may want to renounce his son, or the son may indict his father for imbecility: such violent separations only take place when the family are 'a bad lot'; if only one of the two parties is bad, the differences do not grow to so great a height. but here arises a difficulty. although in any other state a son who is disinherited does not cease to be a citizen, in ours he does; for the number of citizens cannot exceed . and therefore he who is to suffer such a penalty ought to be abjured, not only by his father, but by the whole family. the law, then, should run as follows:--if any man's evil fortune or temper incline him to disinherit his son, let him not do so lightly or on the instant; but let him have a council of his own relations and of the maternal relations of his son, and set forth to them the propriety of disinheriting him, and allow his son to answer. and if more than half of the kindred male and female, being of full age, condemn the son, let him be disinherited. if any other citizen desires to adopt him, he may, for young men's characters often change in the course of life. but if, after ten years, he remains unadopted, let him be sent to a colony. if disease, or old age, or evil disposition cause a man to go out of his mind, and he is ruining his house and property, and his son doubts about indicting him for insanity, let him lay the case before the eldest guardians of the law, and consult with them. and if they advise him to proceed, and the father is decided to be imbecile, he shall have no more control over his property, but shall live henceforward like a child in the house. if a man and his wife are of incompatible tempers, ten guardians of the law and ten of the matrons who regulate marriage shall take their case in hand, and reconcile them, if possible. if, however, their swelling souls cannot be pacified, the wife may try and find a new husband, and the husband a new wife; probably they are not very gentle creatures, and should therefore be joined to milder natures. the younger of those who are separated should also select their partners with a view to the procreation of children; while the older should seek a companion for their declining years. if a woman dies, leaving children male or female, the law will advise, but not compel, the widower to abstain from a second marriage; if she leave no children, he shall be compelled to marry. also a widow, if she is not old enough to live honestly without marriage, shall marry again; and in case she have no children, she should marry for the sake of them. there is sometimes an uncertainty which parent the offspring is to follow: in unions of a female slave with a male slave, or with a freedman or free man, or of a free woman with a male slave, the offspring is to belong to the master; but if the master or mistress be themselves the parent of the child, the slave and the child are to be sent away to another land. concerning duty to parents, let the preamble be as follows:--we honour the gods in their lifeless images, and believe that we thus propitiate them. but he who has an aged father or mother has a living image, which if he cherish it will do him far more good than any statue. 'what do you mean by cherishing them?' i will tell you. oedipus and amyntor and theseus cursed their children, and their curses took effect. this proves that the gods hear the curses of parents who are wronged; and shall we doubt that they hear and fulfil their blessings too?' 'surely not.' and, as we were saying, no image is more honoured by the gods than an aged father and mother, to whom when honour is done, the god who hears their prayers is rejoiced, and their influence is greater than that of the lifeless statue; for they pray that good or evil may come to us in proportion as they are honoured or dishonoured, but the statue is silent. 'excellent.' good men are glad when their parents live to extreme old age, or if they depart early, lament their loss; but to bad man their parents are always terrible. wherefore let every one honour his parents, and if this preamble fails of influencing him, let him hear the law:--if any one does not take sufficient care of his parents, let the aggrieved person inform the three eldest guardians of the law and three of the women who are concerned with marriages. women up to forty years of age, and men up to thirty, who thus offend, shall be beaten and imprisoned. after that age they are to be brought before a court composed of the eldest citizens, who may inflict any punishment upon them which they please. if the injured party cannot inform, let any freeman who hears of the case inform; a slave who does so shall be set free,--if he be the slave of the one of the parties, by the magistrate,--if owned by another, at the cost of the state; and let the magistrates, take care that he is not wronged by any one out of revenge. the injuries which one person does to another by the use of poisons are of two kinds;--one affects the body by the employment of drugs and potions; the other works on the mind by the practice of sorcery and magic. fatal cases of either sort have been already mentioned; and now we must have a law respecting cases which are not fatal. there is no use in arguing with a man whose mind is disturbed by waxen images placed at his own door, or on the sepulchre of his father or mother, or at a spot where three ways meet. but to the wizards themselves we must address a solemn preamble, begging them not to treat the world as if they were children, or compel the legislator to expose them, and to show men that the poisoner who is not a physician and the wizard who is not a prophet or diviner are equally ignorant of what they are doing. let the law be as follows:--he who by the use of poison does any injury not fatal to a man or his servants, or any injury whether fatal or not to another's cattle or bees, is to be punished with death if he be a physician, and if he be not a physician he is to suffer the punishment awarded by the court: and he who injures another by sorcery, if he be a diviner or prophet, shall be put to death; and, if he be not a diviner, the court shall determine what he ought to pay or suffer. any one who injures another by theft or violence shall pay damages at least equal to the injury; and besides the compensation, a suitable punishment shall be inflicted. the foolish youth who is the victim of others is to have a lighter punishment; he whose folly is occasioned by his own jealousy or desire or anger is to suffer more heavily. punishment is to be inflicted, not for the sake of vengeance, for what is done cannot be undone, but for the sake of prevention and reformation. and there should be a proportion between the punishment and the crime, in which the judge, having a discretion left him, must, by estimating the crime, second the legislator, who, like a painter, furnishes outlines for him to fill up. a madman is not to go about at large in the city, but is to be taken care of by his relatives. neglect on their part is to be punished in the first class by a fine of a hundred drachmas, and proportionally in the others. now madness is of various kinds; in addition to that which arises from disease there is the madness which originates in a passionate temperament, and makes men when engaged in a quarrel use foul and abusive language against each other. this is intolerable in a well-ordered state; and therefore our law shall be as follows:--no one is to speak evil of another, but when men differ in opinion they are to instruct one another without speaking evil. nor should any one seek to rouse the passions which education has calmed; for he who feeds and nurses his wrath is apt to make ribald jests at his opponent, with a loss of character or dignity to himself. and for this reason no one may use any abusive word in a temple, or at sacrifices, or games, or in any public assembly, and he who offends shall be censured by the proper magistrate; and the magistrate, if he fail to censure him, shall not claim the prize of virtue. in any other place the angry man who indulges in revilings, whether he be the beginner or not, may be chastised by an elder. the reviler is always trying to make his opponent ridiculous; and the use of ridicule in anger we cannot allow. we forbid the comic poet to ridicule our citizens, under a penalty of expulsion from the country or a fine of three minae. jest in which there is no offence may be allowed; but the question of offence shall be determined by the director of education, who is to be the licenser of theatrical performances. the righteous man who is in adversity will not be allowed to starve in a well-ordered city; he will never be a beggar. nor is a man to be pitied, merely because he is hungry, unless he be temperate. therefore let the law be as follows:--let there be no beggars in our state; and he who begs shall be expelled by the magistrates both from town and country. if a slave, male or female, does any harm to the property of another, who is not himself a party to the harm, the master shall compensate the injury or give up the offending slave. but if the master argue that the charge has arisen by collusion, with the view of obtaining the slave, he may put the plaintiff on his trial for malpractices, and recover from him twice the value of the slave; or if he is cast he must make good the damage and deliver up the slave. the injury done by a horse or other animal shall be compensated in like manner. a witness who will not come of himself may be summoned, and if he fail in appearing, he shall be liable for any harm which may ensue: if he swears that he does not know, he may leave the court. a judge who is called upon as a witness must not vote. a free woman, if she is over forty, may bear witness and plead, and, if she have no husband, she may also bring an action. a slave, male or female, and a child may witness and plead only in case of murder, but they must give sureties that they will appear at the trial, if they should be charged with false witness. such charges must be made pending the trial, and the accusations shall be sealed by both parties and kept by the magistrates until the trial for perjury comes off. if a man is twice convicted of perjury, he is not to be required, if three times, he is not to be allowed to bear witness, or, if he persists in bearing witness, is to be punished with death. when more than half the evidence is proved to be false there must be a new trial. the best and noblest things in human life are liable to be defiled and perverted. is not justice the civilizer of mankind? and yet upon the noble profession of the advocate has come an evil name. for he is said to make the worse appear the better cause, and only requires money in return for his services. such an art will be forbidden by the legislator, and if existing among us will be requested to depart to another city. to the disobedient let the voice of the law be heard saying:--he who tries to pervert justice in the minds of the judges, or to increase litigation, shall be brought before the supreme court. if he does so from contentiousness, let him be silenced for a time, and, if he offend again, put to death. if he have acted from a love of gain, let him be sent out of the country if he be a foreigner, or if he be a citizen let him be put to death. book xii. if a false message be taken to or brought from other states, whether friendly or hostile, by ambassadors or heralds, they shall be indicted for having dishonoured their sacred office, and, if convicted, shall suffer a penalty.--stealing is mean; robbery is shameless. let no man deceive himself by the supposed example of the gods, for no god or son of a god ever really practised either force or fraud. on this point the legislator is better informed than all the poets put together. he who listens to him shall be for ever happy, but he who will not listen shall have the following law directed against him:--he who steals much, or he who steals little of the public property is deserving of the same penalty; for they are both impelled by the same evil motive. when the law punishes one man more lightly than another, this is done under the idea, not that he is less guilty, but that he is more curable. now a thief who is a foreigner or slave may be curable; but the thief who is a citizen, and has had the advantages of education, should be put to death, for he is incurable. much consideration and many regulations are necessary about military expeditions; the great principal of all is that no one, male or female, in war or peace, in great matters or small, shall be without a commander. whether men stand or walk, or drill, or pursue, or retreat, or wash, or eat, they should all act together and in obedience to orders. we should practise from our youth upwards the habits of command and obedience. all dances, relaxations, endurances of meats and drinks, of cold and heat, and of hard couches, should have a view to war, and care should be taken not to destroy the natural covering and use of the head and feet by wearing shoes and caps; for the head is the lord of the body, and the feet are the best of servants. the soldier should have thoughts like these; and let him hear the law:--he who is enrolled shall serve, and if he absent himself without leave he shall be indicted for failure of service before his own branch of the army when the expedition returns, and if he be found guilty he shall suffer the penalty which the courts award, and never be allowed to contend for any prize of valour, or to accuse another of misbehaviour in military matters. desertion shall also be tried and punished in the same manner. after the courts for trying failure of service and desertion have been held, the generals shall hold another court, in which the several arms of the service will award prizes for the expedition which has just concluded. the prize is to be a crown of olive, which the victor shall offer up at the temple of his favourite war god...in any suit which a man brings, let the indictment be scrupulously true, for justice is an honourable maiden, to whom falsehood is naturally hateful. for example, when men are prosecuted for having lost their arms, great care should be taken by the witnesses to distinguish between cases in which they have been lost from necessity and from cowardice. if the hero patroclus had not been killed but had been brought back alive from the field, he might have been reproached with having lost the divine armour. and a man may lose his arms in a storm at sea, or from a fall, and under many other circumstances. there is a distinction of language to be observed in the use of the two terms, 'thrower away of a shield' (ripsaspis), and 'loser of arms' (apoboleus oplon), one being the voluntary, the other the involuntary relinquishment of them. let the law then be as follows:--if any one is overtaken by the enemy, having arms in his hands, and he leaves them behind him voluntarily, choosing base life instead of honourable death, let justice be done. the old legend of caeneus, who was changed by poseidon from a woman into a man, may teach by contraries the appropriate punishment. let the thrower away of his shield be changed from a man into a woman--that is to say, let him be all his life out of danger, and never again be admitted by any commander into the ranks of his army; and let him pay a heavy fine according to his class. and any commander who permits him to serve shall also be punished by a fine. all magistrates, whatever be their tenure of office, must give an account of their magistracy. but where shall we find the magistrate who is worthy to supervise them or look into their short-comings and crooked ways? the examiner must be more than man who is sufficient for these things. for the truth is that there are many causes of the dissolution of states; which, like ships or animals, have their cords, and girders, and sinews easily relaxed, and nothing tends more to their welfare and preservation than the supervision of them by examiners who are better than the magistrates; failing in this they fall to pieces, and each becomes many instead of one. wherefore let the people meet after the summer solstice, in the precincts of apollo and the sun, and appoint three men of not less than fifty years of age. they shall proceed as follows:--each citizen shall select some one, not himself, whom he thinks the best. the persons selected shall be reduced to one half, who have the greatest number of votes, if they are an even number; but if an odd number, he who has the smallest number of votes shall be previously withdrawn. the voting shall continue in the same manner until three only remain; and if the number of votes cast for them be equal, a distinction between the first, second, and third shall be made by lot. the three shall be crowned with an olive wreath, and proclamation made, that the city of the magnetes, once more preserved by the gods, presents her three best men to apollo and the sun, to whom she dedicates them as long as their lives answer to the judgment formed of them. they shall choose in the first year of their office twelve examiners, to continue until they are seventy-five years of age; afterwards three shall be added annually. while they hold office, they shall dwell within the precinct of the god. they are to divide all the magistracies into twelve classes, and may apply any methods of enquiry, and inflict any punishments which they please; in some cases singly, in other cases together, announcing the acquittal or punishment of the magistrate on a tablet which they will place in the agora. a magistrate who has been condemned by the examiners may appeal to the select judges, and, if he gain his suit, may in turn prosecute the examiners; but if the appellant is cast, his punishment shall be doubled, unless he was previously condemned to death. and what honours shall be paid to these examiners, whom the whole state counts worthy of the rewards of virtue? they shall have the first place at all sacrifices and other ceremonies, and in all assemblies and public places; they shall go on sacred embassies, and have the exclusive privilege of wearing a crown of laurel. they are priests of apollo and the sun, and he of their number who is judged first shall be high priest, and give his name to the year. the manner of their burial, too, shall be different from that of the other citizens. the colour of their funeral array shall be white, and, instead of the voice of lamentation, around the bier shall stand a chorus of fifteen boys and fifteen maidens, chanting hymns in honour of the deceased in alternate strains during an entire day; and at dawn a band of a hundred youths shall carry the bier to the grave, marching in the garb of warriors, and the boys in front of the bier shall sing their national hymn, while the maidens and women past child-bearing follow after. priests and priestesses may also follow, unless the pythian oracle forbids. the sepulchre shall be a vault built underground, which will last for ever, having couches of stone placed side by side; on one of these they shall lay the departed saint, and then cover the tomb with a mound, and plant trees on every side except one, where an opening shall be left for other interments. every year there shall be games--musical, gymnastic, or equestrian, in honour of those who have passed every ordeal. but if any of them, after having been acquitted on any occasion, begin to show the wickedness of human nature, he who pleases may bring them to trial before a court composed of the guardians of the law, and of the select judges, and of any of the examiners who are alive. if he be convicted he shall be deprived of his honours, and if the accuser do not obtain a fifth part of the votes, he shall pay a fine according to his class. what is called the judgment of rhadamanthus is suited to 'ages of faith,' but not to our days. he knew that his contemporaries believed in the gods, for many of them were the sons of gods; and he thought that the easiest and surest method of ending litigation was to commit the decision to heaven. in our own day, men either deny the existence of gods or their care of men, or maintain that they may be bribed by attentions and gifts; and the procedure of rhadamanthus would therefore be out of date. when the religious ideas of mankind change, their laws should also change. thus oaths should no longer be taken from plaintiff and defendant; simple statements of affirmation and denial should be substituted. for there is something dreadful in the thought, that nearly half the citizens of a state are perjured men. there is no objection to an oath, where a man has no interest in forswearing himself; as, for example, when a judge is about to give his decision, or in voting at an election, or in the judgment of games and contests. but where there would be a premium on perjury, oaths and imprecations should be prohibited as irrelevant, like appeals to feeling. let the principles of justice be learned and taught without words of evil omen. the oaths of a stranger against a stranger may be allowed, because strangers are not permitted to become permanent residents in our state. trials in private causes are to be decided in the same manner as lesser offences against the state. the non-attendance at a chorus or sacrifice, or the omission to pay a war-tax, may be regarded as in the first instance remediable, and the defaulter may give security; but if he forfeits the security, the goods pledged shall be sold and the money given to the state. and for obstinate disobedience, the magistrate shall have the power of inflicting greater penalties. a city which is without trade or commerce must consider what it will do about the going abroad of its own people and the admission of strangers. for out of intercourse with strangers there arises great confusion of manners, which in most states is not of any consequence, because the confusion exists already; but in a well-ordered state it may be a great evil. yet the absolute prohibition of foreign travel, or the exclusion of strangers, is impossible, and would appear barbarous to the rest of mankind. public opinion should never be lightly regarded, for the many are not so far wrong in their judgments as in their lives. even the worst of men have often a divine instinct, which enables them to judge of the differences between the good and bad. states are rightly advised when they desire to have the praise of men; and the greatest and truest praise is that of virtue. and our cretan colony should, and probably will, have a character for virtue, such as few cities have. let this, then, be our law about foreign travel and the reception of strangers:--no one shall be allowed to leave the country who is under forty years of age--of course military service abroad is not included in this regulation--and no one at all except in a public capacity. to the olympic, and pythian, and nemean, and isthmian games, shall be sent the fairest and best and bravest, who shall support the dignity of the city in time of peace. these, when they come home, shall teach the youth the inferiority of all other governments. besides those who go on sacred missions, other persons shall be sent out by permission of the guardians to study the institutions of foreign countries. for a people which has no experience, and no knowledge of the characters of men or the reason of things, but lives by habit only, can never be perfectly civilized. moreover, in all states, bad as well as good, there are holy and inspired men; these the citizen of a well-ordered city should be ever seeking out; he should go forth to find them over sea and over land, that he may more firmly establish institutions in his own state which are good already and amend the bad. 'what will be the best way of accomplishing such an object?' in the first place, let the visitor of foreign countries be between fifty and sixty years of age, and let him be a citizen of repute, especially in military matters. on his return he shall appear before the nocturnal council: this is a body which sits from dawn to sunrise, and includes amongst its members the priests who have gained the prize of virtue, and the ten oldest guardians of the law, and the director and past directors of education; each of whom has power to bring with him a younger friend of his own selection, who is between thirty and forty. the assembly thus constituted shall consider the laws of their own and other states, and gather information relating to them. anything of the sort which is approved by the elder members of the council shall be studied with all diligence by the younger; who are to be specially watched by the rest of the citizens, and shall receive honour, if they are deserving of honour, or dishonour, if they prove inferior. this is the assembly to which the visitor of foreign countries shall come and tell anything which he has heard from others in the course of his travels, or which he has himself observed. if he be made neither better nor worse, let him at least be praised for his zeal; and let him receive still more praise, and special honour after death, if he be improved. but if he be deteriorated by his travels, let him be prohibited from speaking to any one; and if he submit, he may live as a private individual: but if he be convicted of attempting to make innovations in education and the laws, let him die. next, as to the reception of strangers. of these there are four classes:--first, merchants, who, like birds of passage, find their way over the sea at a certain time of the year, that they may exhibit their wares. these should be received in markets and public buildings without the city, by proper officers, who shall see that justice is done them, and shall also watch against any political designs which they may entertain; no more intercourse is to be held with them than is absolutely necessary. secondly, there are the visitors at the festivals, who shall be entertained by hospitable persons at the temples for a reasonable time; the priests and ministers of the temples shall have a care of them. in small suits brought by them or against them, the priests shall be the judges; but in the more important, the wardens of the agora. thirdly, there are ambassadors of foreign states; these are to be honourably received by the generals and commanders, and placed under the care of the prytanes and of the persons with whom they are lodged. fourthly, there is the philosophical stranger, who, like our own spectators, from time to time goes to see what is rich and rare in foreign countries. like them he must be fifty years of age: and let him go unbidden to the doors of the wise and rich, that he may learn from them, and they from him. these are the rules of missions into foreign countries, and of the reception of strangers. let zeus, the god of hospitality, be honoured; and let not the stranger be excluded, as in egypt, from meals and sacrifices, or, (as at sparta,) driven away by savage proclamations. let guarantees be clearly given in writing and before witnesses. the number of witnesses shall be three when the sum lent is under a thousand drachmas, or five when above. the agent and principal at a fraudulent sale shall be equally liable. he who would search another man's house for anything must swear that he expects to find it there; and he shall enter naked, or having on a single garment and no girdle. the owner shall place at the disposal of the searcher all his goods, sealed as well as unsealed; if he refuse, he shall be liable in double the value of the property, if it shall prove to be in his possession. if the owner be absent, the searcher may counter-seal the property which is under seal, and place watchers. if the owner remain absent more than five days, the searcher shall take the magistrates, and open the sealed property, and seal it up again in their presence. the recovery of goods disputed, except in the case of lands and houses, (about which there can be no dispute in our state), is to be barred by time. the public and unimpeached use of anything for a year in the city, or for five years in the country, or the private possession and domestic use for three years in the city, or for ten years in the country, is to give a right of ownership. but if the possessor have the property in a foreign country, there shall be no bar as to time. the proceedings of any trial are to be void, in which either the parties or the witnesses, whether bond or free, have been prevented by violence from attending:--if a slave be prevented, the suit shall be invalid; or if a freeman, he who is guilty of the violence shall be imprisoned for a year, and shall also be liable to an action for kidnapping. if one competitor forcibly prevents another from attending at the games, the other may be inscribed as victor in the temples, and the first, whether victor or not, shall be liable to an action for damages. the receiver of stolen goods shall undergo the same punishment as the thief. the receiver of an exile shall be punished with death. a man ought to have the same friends and enemies as his country; and he who makes war or peace for himself shall be put to death. and if a party in the state make war or peace, their leaders shall be indicted by the generals, and, if convicted, they shall be put to death. the ministers and officers of a country ought not to receive gifts, even as the reward of good deeds. he who disobeys shall die. with a view to taxation a man should have his property and income valued: and the government may, at their discretion, levy the tax upon the annual return, or take a portion of the whole. the good man will offer moderate gifts to the gods; his land or hearth cannot be offered, because they are already consecrated to all gods. gold and silver, which arouse envy, and ivory, which is taken from the dead body of an animal, are unsuitable offerings; iron and brass are materials of war. wood and stone of a single piece may be offered; also woven work which has not occupied one woman more than a month in making. white is a colour which is acceptable to the gods; figures of birds and similar offerings are the best of gifts, but they must be such as the painter can execute in a day. next concerning lawsuits. judges, or rather arbiters, may be agreed upon by the plaintiff and defendant; and if no decision is obtained from them, their fellow-tribesmen shall judge. at this stage there shall be an increase of the penalty: the defendant, if he be cast, shall pay a fifth more than the damages claimed. if he further persist, and appeal a second time, the case shall be heard before the select judges; and he shall pay, if defeated, the penalty and half as much again. and the pursuer, if on the first appeal he is defeated, shall pay one fifth of the damages claimed by him; and if on the second, one half. other matters relating to trials, such as the assignment of judges to courts, the times of sitting, the number of judges, the modes of pleading and procedure, as we have already said, may be determined by younger legislators. these are to be the rules of private courts. as regards public courts, many states have excellent modes of procedure which may serve for models; these, when duly tested by experience, should be ratified and made permanent by us. let the judge be accomplished in the laws. he should possess writings about them, and make a study of them; for laws are the highest instrument of mental improvement, and derive their name from mind (nous, nomos). they afford a measure of all censure and praise, whether in verse or prose, in conversation or in books, and are an antidote to the vain disputes of men and their equally vain acquiescence in each other's opinions. the just judge, who imbibes their spirit, makes the city and himself to stand upright. he establishes justice for the good, and cures the tempers of the bad, if they can be cured; but denounces death, which is the only remedy, to the incurable, the threads of whose life cannot be reversed. when the suits of the year are completed, execution is to follow. the court is to award to the plaintiff the property of the defendant, if he is cast, reserving to him only his lot of land. if the plaintiff is not satisfied within a month, the court shall put into his hands the property of the defendant. if the defendant fails in payment to the amount of a drachma, he shall lose the use and protection of the court; or if he rebel against the authority of the court, he shall be brought before the guardians of the law, and if found guilty he shall be put to death. man having been born, educated, having begotten and brought up children, and gone to law, fulfils the debt of nature. the rites which are to be celebrated after death in honour of the gods above and below shall be determined by the interpreters. the dead shall be buried in uncultivated places, where they will be out of the way and do least injury to the living. for no one either in life or after death has any right to deprive other men of the sustenance which mother earth provides for them. no sepulchral mound is to be piled higher than five men can raise it in five days, and the grave-stone shall not be larger than is sufficient to contain an inscription of four heroic verses. the dead are only to be exposed for three days, which is long enough to test the reality of death. the legislator will instruct the people that the body is a mere shadow or image, and that the soul, which is our true being, is gone to give an account of herself before the gods below. when they hear this, the good are full of hope, and the evil are terrified. it is also said that not much can be done for any one after death. and therefore while in life all man should be helped by their kindred to pass their days justly and holily, that they may depart in peace. when a man loses a son or a brother, he should consider that the beloved one has gone away to fulfil his destiny in another place, and should not waste money over his lifeless remains. let the law then order a moderate funeral of five minae for the first class, of three for the second, of two for the third, of one for the fourth. one of the guardians of the law, to be selected by the relatives, shall assist them in arranging the affairs of the deceased. there would be a want of delicacy in prescribing that there should or should not be mourning for the dead. but, at any rate, such mourning is to be confined to the house; there must be no processions in the streets, and the dead body shall be taken out of the city before daybreak. regulations about other forms of burial and about the non-burial of parricides and other sacrilegious persons have already been laid down. the work of legislation is therefore nearly completed; its end will be finally accomplished when we have provided for the continuance of the state. do you remember the names of the fates? lachesis, the giver of the lots, is the first of them; clotho, the spinster, the second; atropos, the unchanging one, is the third and last, who makes the threads of the web irreversible. and we too want to make our laws irreversible, for the unchangeable quality in them will be the salvation of the state, and the source of health and order in the bodies and souls of our citizens. 'but can such a quality be implanted?' i think that it may; and at any rate we must try; for, after all our labour, to have been piling up a fabric which has no foundation would be too ridiculous. 'what foundation would you lay?' we have already instituted an assembly which was composed of the ten oldest guardians of the law, and secondly, of those who had received prizes of virtue, and thirdly, of the travellers who had gone abroad to enquire into the laws of other countries. moreover, each of the members was to choose a young man, of not less than thirty years of age, to be approved by the rest; and they were to meet at dawn, when all the world is at leisure. this assembly will be an anchor to the vessel of state, and provide the means of permanence; for the constitutions of states, like all other things, have their proper saviours, which are to them what the head and soul are to the living being. 'how do you mean?' mind in the soul, and sight and hearing in the head, or rather, the perfect union of mind and sense, may be justly called every man's salvation. 'certainly.' yes; but of what nature is this union? in the case of a ship, for example, the senses of the sailors are added to the intelligence of the pilot, and the two together save the ship and the men in the ship. again, the physician and the general have their objects; and the object of the one is health, of the other victory. states, too, have their objects, and the ruler must understand, first, their nature, and secondly, the means of attaining them, whether in laws or men. the state which is wanting in this knowledge cannot be expected to be wise when the time for action arrives. now what class or institution is there in our state which has such a saving power? 'i suspect that you are referring to the nocturnal council.' yes, to that council which is to have all virtue, and which should aim directly at the mark. 'very true.' the inconsistency of legislation in most states is not surprising, when the variety of their objects is considered. one of them makes their rule of justice the government of a class; another aims at wealth; another at freedom, or at freedom and power; and some who call themselves philosophers maintain that you should seek for all of them at once. but our object is unmistakeably virtue, and virtue is of four kinds. 'yes; and we said that mind is the chief and ruler of the three other kinds of virtue and of all else.' true, cleinias; and now, having already declared the object which is present to the mind of the pilot, the general, the physician, we will interrogate the mind of the statesman. tell me, i say, as the physician and general have told us their object, what is the object of the statesman. can you tell me? 'we cannot.' did we not say that there are four virtues--courage, wisdom, and two others, all of which are called by the common name of virtue, and are in a sense one? 'certainly we did.' the difficulty is, not in understanding the differences of the virtues, but in apprehending their unity. why do we call virtue, which is a single thing, by the two names of wisdom and courage? the reason is that courage is concerned with fear, and is found both in children and in brutes; for the soul may be courageous without reason, but no soul was, or ever will be, wise without reason. 'that is true.' i have explained to you the difference, and do you in return explain to me the unity. but first let us consider whether any one who knows the name of a thing without the definition has any real knowledge of it. is not such knowledge a disgrace to a man of sense, especially where great and glorious truths are concerned? and can any subject be more worthy of the attention of our legislators than the four virtues of which we are speaking--courage, temperance, justice, wisdom? ought not the magistrates and officers of the state to instruct the citizens in the nature of virtue and vice, instead of leaving them to be taught by some chance poet or sophist? a city which is without instruction suffers the usual fate of cities in our day. what then shall we do? how shall we perfect the ideas of our guardians about virtue? how shall we give our state a head and eyes? 'yes, but how do you apply the figure?' the city will be the body or trunk; the best of our young men will mount into the head or acropolis and be our eyes; they will look about them, and inform the elders, who are the mind and use the younger men as their instruments: together they will save the state. shall this be our constitution, or shall all be educated alike, and the special training be given up? 'that is impossible.' let us then endeavour to attain to some more exact idea of education. did we not say that the true artist or guardian ought to have an eye, not only to the many, but to the one, and to order all things with a view to the one? can there be any more philosophical speculation than how to reduce many things which are unlike to one idea? 'perhaps not.' say rather, 'certainly not.' and the rulers of our divine state ought to have an exact knowledge of the common principle in courage, temperance, justice, wisdom, which is called by the name of virtue; and unless we know whether virtue is one or many, we shall hardly know what virtue is. shall we contrive some means of engrafting this knowledge on our state, or give the matter up? 'anything rather than that.' let us begin by making an agreement. 'by all means, if we can.' well, are we not agreed that our guardians ought to know, not only how the good and the honourable are many, but also how they are one? 'yes, certainly.' the true guardian of the laws ought to know their truth, and should also be able to interpret and execute them? 'he should.' and is there any higher knowledge than the knowledge of the existence and power of the gods? the people may be excused for following tradition; but the guardian must be able to give a reason of the faith which is in him. and there are two great evidences of religion--the priority of the soul and the order of the heavens. for no man of sense, when he contemplates the universe, will be likely to substitute necessity for reason and will. those who maintain that the sun and the stars are inanimate beings are utterly wrong in their opinions. the men of a former generation had a suspicion, which has been confirmed by later thinkers, that things inanimate could never without mind have attained such scientific accuracy; and some (anaxagoras) even in those days ventured to assert that mind had ordered all things in heaven; but they had no idea of the priority of mind, and they turned the world, or more properly themselves, upside down, and filled the universe with stones, and earth, and other inanimate bodies. this led to great impiety, and the poets said many foolish things against the philosophers, whom they compared to 'yelping she-dogs,' besides making other abusive remarks. no man can now truly worship the gods who does not believe that the soul is eternal, and prior to the body, and the ruler of all bodies, and does not perceive also that there is mind in the stars; or who has not heard the connexion of these things with music, and has not harmonized them with manners and laws, giving a reason of things which are matters of reason. he who is unable to acquire this knowledge, as well as the ordinary virtues of a citizen, can only be a servant, and not a ruler in the state. let us then add another law to the effect that the nocturnal council shall be a guard set for the salvation of the state. 'very good.' to establish this will be our aim, and i hope that others besides myself will assist. 'let us proceed along the road in which god seems to guide us.' we cannot, megillus and cleinias, anticipate the details which will hereafter be needed; they must be supplied by experience. 'what do you mean?' first of all a register will have to be made of all those whose age, character, or education would qualify them to be guardians. the subjects which they are to learn, and the order in which they are to be learnt, are mysteries which cannot be explained beforehand, but not mysteries in any other sense. 'if that is the case, what is to be done?' we must stake our all on a lucky throw, and i will share the risk by stating my views on education. and i would have you, cleinias, who are the founder of the magnesian state, and will obtain the greatest glory if you succeed, and will at least be praised for your courage, if you fail, take especial heed of this matter. if we can only establish the nocturnal council, we will hand over the city to its keeping; none of the present company will hesitate about that. our dream will then become a reality; and our citizens, if they are carefully chosen and well educated, will be saviours and guardians such as the world hitherto has never seen. the want of completeness in the laws becomes more apparent in the later books. there is less arrangement in them, and the transitions are more abrupt from one subject to another. yet they contain several noble passages, such as the 'prelude to the discourse concerning the honour and dishonour of parents,' or the picture of the dangers attending the 'friendly intercourse of young men and maidens with one another,' or the soothing remonstrance which is addressed to the dying man respecting his right to do what he will with his own, or the fine description of the burial of the dead. the subject of religion in book x is introduced as a prelude to offences against the gods, and this portion of the work appears to be executed in plato's best manner. in the last four books, several questions occur for consideration: among them are (i) the detection and punishment of offences; (ii) the nature of the voluntary and involuntary; (iii) the arguments against atheism, and against the opinion that the gods have no care of human affairs; (iv) the remarks upon retail trade; (v) the institution of the nocturnal council. i. a weak point in the laws of plato is the amount of inquisition into private life which is to be made by the rulers. the magistrate is always watching and waylaying the citizens. he is constantly to receive information against improprieties of life. plato does not seem to be aware that espionage can only have a negative effect. he has not yet discovered the boundary line which parts the domain of law from that of morality or social life. men will not tell of one another; nor will he ever be the most honoured citizen, who gives the most frequent information about offenders to the magistrates. as in some writers of fiction, so also in philosophers, we may observe the effect of age. plato becomes more conservative as he grows older, and he would govern the world entirely by men like himself, who are above fifty years of age; for in them he hopes to find a principle of stability. he does not remark that, in destroying the freedom he is destroying also the life of the state. in reducing all the citizens to rule and measure, he would have been depriving the magnesian colony of those great men 'whose acquaintance is beyond all price;' and he would have found that in the worst-governed hellenic state, there was more of a carriere ouverte for extraordinary genius and virtue than in his own. plato has an evident dislike of the athenian dicasteries; he prefers a few judges who take a leading part in the conduct of trials to a great number who only listen in silence. he allows of two appeals--in each case however with an increase of the penalty. modern jurists would disapprove of the redress of injustice being purchased only at an increasing risk; though indirectly the burden of legal expenses, which seems to have been little felt among the athenians, has a similar effect. the love of litigation, which is a remnant of barbarism quite as much as a corruption of civilization, and was innate in the athenian people, is diminished in the new state by the imposition of severe penalties. if persevered in, it is to be punished with death. in the laws murder and homicide besides being crimes, are also pollutions. regarded from this point of view, the estimate of such offences is apt to depend on accidental circumstances, such as the shedding of blood, and not on the real guilt of the offender or the injury done to society. they are measured by the horror which they arouse in a barbarous age. for there is a superstition in law as well as in religion, and the feelings of a primitive age have a traditional hold on the mass of the people. on the other hand, plato is innocent of the barbarity which would visit the sins of the fathers upon the children, and he is quite aware that punishment has an eye to the future, and not to the past. compared with that of most european nations in the last century his penal code, though sometimes capricious, is reasonable and humane. a defect in plato's criminal jurisprudence is his remission of the punishment when the homicide has obtained the forgiveness of the murdered person; as if crime were a personal affair between individuals, and not an offence against the state. there is a ridiculous disproportion in his punishments. because a slave may fairly receive a blow for stealing one fig or one bunch of grapes, or a tradesman for selling adulterated goods to the value of one drachma, it is rather hard upon the slave that he should receive as many blows as he has taken grapes or figs, or upon the tradesman who has sold adulterated goods to the value of a thousand drachmas that he should receive a thousand blows. ii. but before punishment can be inflicted at all, the legislator must determine the nature of the voluntary and involuntary. the great question of the freedom of the will, which in modern times has been worn threadbare with purely abstract discussion, was approached both by plato and aristotle--first, from the judicial; secondly, from the sophistical point of view. they were puzzled by the degrees and kinds of crime; they observed also that the law only punished hurts which are inflicted by a voluntary agent on an involuntary patient. in attempting to distinguish between hurt and injury, plato says that mere hurt is not injury; but that a benefit when done in a wrong spirit may sometimes injure, e.g. when conferred without regard to right and wrong, or to the good or evil consequences which may follow. he means to say that the good or evil disposition of the agent is the principle which characterizes actions; and this is not sufficiently described by the terms voluntary and involuntary. you may hurt another involuntarily, and no one would suppose that you had injured him; and you may hurt him voluntarily, as in inflicting punishment--neither is this injury; but if you hurt him from motives of avarice, ambition, or cowardly fear, this is injury. injustice is also described as the victory of desire or passion or self-conceit over reason, as justice is the subordination of them to reason. in some paradoxical sense plato is disposed to affirm all injustice to be involuntary; because no man would do injustice who knew that it never paid and could calculate the consequences of what he was doing. yet, on the other hand, he admits that the distinction of voluntary and involuntary, taken in another and more obvious sense, is the basis of legislation. his conception of justice and injustice is complicated ( ) by the want of a distinction between justice and virtue, that is to say, between the quality which primarily regards others, and the quality in which self and others are equally regarded; ( ) by the confusion of doing and suffering justice; ( ) by the unwillingness to renounce the old socratic paradox, that evil is involuntary. iii. the laws rest on a religious foundation; in this respect they bear the stamp of primitive legislation. they do not escape the almost inevitable consequence of making irreligion penal. if laws are based upon religion, the greatest offence against them must be irreligion. hence the necessity for what in modern language, and according to a distinction which plato would scarcely have understood, might be termed persecution. but the spirit of persecution in plato, unlike that of modern religious bodies, arises out of the desire to enforce a true and simple form of religion, and is directed against the superstitions which tend to degrade mankind. sir thomas more, in his utopia, is in favour of tolerating all except the intolerant, though he would not promote to high offices those who disbelieved in the immortality of the soul. plato has not advanced quite so far as this in the path of toleration. but in judging of his enlightenment, we must remember that the evils of necromancy and divination were far greater than those of intolerance in the ancient world. human nature is always having recourse to the first; but only when organized into some form of priesthood falls into the other; although in primitive as in later ages the institution of a priesthood may claim probably to be an advance on some form of religion which preceded. the laws would have rested on a sounder foundation, if plato had ever distinctly realized to his mind the difference between crime and sin or vice. of this, as of many other controversies, a clear definition might have been the end. but such a definition belongs to a later age of philosophy. the arguments which plato uses for the being of a god, have an extremely modern character: first, the consensus gentium; secondly, the argument which has already been adduced in the phaedrus, of the priority of the self-moved. the answer to those who say that god 'cares not,' is, that he governs by general laws; and that he who takes care of the great will assuredly take care of the small. plato did not feel, and has not attempted to consider, the difficulty of reconciling the special with the general providence of god. yet he is on the road to a solution, when he regards the world as a whole, of which all the parts work together towards the final end. we are surprised to find that the scepticism, which we attribute to young men in our own day, existed then (compare republic); that the epicureanism expressed in the line of horace (borrowed from lucretius)-- 'namque deos didici securum agere aevum,' was already prevalent in the age of plato; and that the terrors of another world were freely used in order to gain advantages over other men in this. the same objection which struck the psalmist--'when i saw the prosperity of the wicked'--is supposed to lie at the root of the better sort of unbelief. and the answer is substantially the same which the modern theologian would offer:--that the ways of god in this world cannot be justified unless there be a future state of rewards and punishments. yet this future state of rewards and punishments is in plato's view not any addition of happiness or suffering imposed from without, but the permanence of good and evil in the soul: here he is in advance of many modern theologians. the greek, too, had his difficulty about the existence of evil, which in one solitary passage, remarkable for being inconsistent with his general system, plato explains, after the magian fashion, by a good and evil spirit (compare theaet., statesman). this passage is also remarkable for being at variance with the general optimism of the tenth book--not 'all things are ordered by god for the best,' but some things by a good, others by an evil spirit. the tenth book of the laws presents a picture of the state of belief among the greeks singularly like that of the world in which we live. plato is disposed to attribute the incredulity of his own age to several causes. first, to the bad effect of mythological tales, of which he retains his disapproval; but he has a weak side for antiquity, and is unwilling, as in the republic, wholly to proscribe them. secondly, he remarks the self-conceit of a newly-fledged generation of philosophers, who declare that the sun, moon, and stars, are earth and stones only; and who also maintain that the gods are made by the laws of the state. thirdly, he notes a confusion in the minds of men arising out of their misinterpretation of the appearances of the world around them: they do not always see the righteous rewarded and the wicked punished. so in modern times there are some whose infidelity has arisen from doubts about the inspiration of ancient writings; others who have been made unbelievers by physical science, or again by the seemingly political character of religion; while there is a third class to whose minds the difficulty of 'justifying the ways of god to man' has been the chief stumblingblock. plato is very much out of temper at the impiety of some of his contemporaries; yet he is determined to reason with the victims, as he regards them, of these illusions before he punishes them. his answer to the unbelievers is twofold: first, that the soul is prior to the body; secondly, that the ruler of the universe being perfect has made all things with a view to their perfection. the difficulties arising out of ancient sacred writings were far less serious in the age of plato than in our own. we too have our popular epicureanism, which would allow the world to go on as if there were no god. when the belief in him, whether of ancient or modern times, begins to fade away, men relegate him, either in theory or practice, into a distant heaven. they do not like expressly to deny god when it is more convenient to forget him; and so the theory of the epicurean becomes the practice of mankind in general. nor can we be said to be free from that which plato justly considers to be the worst unbelief--of those who put superstition in the place of true religion. for the larger half of christians continue to assert that the justice of god may be turned aside by gifts, and, if not by the 'odour of fat, and the sacrifice steaming to heaven,' still by another kind of sacrifice placed upon the altar--by masses for the quick and dead, by dispensations, by building churches, by rites and ceremonies--by the same means which the heathen used, taking other names and shapes. and the indifference of epicureanism and unbelief is in two ways the parent of superstition, partly because it permits, and also because it creates, a necessity for its development in religious and enthusiastic temperaments. if men cannot have a rational belief, they will have an irrational. and hence the most superstitious countries are also at a certain point of civilization the most unbelieving, and the revolution which takes one direction is quickly followed by a reaction in the other. so we may read 'between the lines' ancient history and philosophy into modern, and modern into ancient. whether we compare the theory of greek philosophy with the christian religion, or the practice of the gentile world with the practice of the christian world, they will be found to differ more in words and less in reality than we might have supposed. the greater opposition which is sometimes made between them seems to arise chiefly out of a comparison of the ideal of the one with the practice of the other. to the errors of superstition and unbelief plato opposes the simple and natural truth of religion; the best and highest, whether conceived in the form of a person or a principle--as the divine mind or as the idea of good--is believed by him to be the basis of human life. that all things are working together for good to the good and evil to the evil in this or in some other world to which human actions are transferred, is the sum of his faith or theology. unlike socrates, he is absolutely free from superstition. religion and morality are one and indivisible to him. he dislikes the 'heathen mythology,' which, as he significantly remarks, was not tolerated in crete, and perhaps (for the meaning of his words is not quite clear) at sparta. he gives no encouragement to individual enthusiasm; 'the establishment of religion could only be the work of a mighty intellect.' like the hebrews, he prohibits private rites; for the avoidance of superstition, he would transfer all worship of the gods to the public temples. he would not have men and women consecrating the accidents of their lives. he trusts to human punishments and not to divine judgments; though he is not unwilling to repeat the old tradition that certain kinds of dishonesty 'prevent a man from having a family.' he considers that the 'ages of faith' have passed away and cannot now be recalled. yet he is far from wishing to extirpate the sentiment of religion, which he sees to be common to all mankind--barbarians as well as hellenes. he remarks that no one passes through life without, sooner or later, experiencing its power. to which we may add the further remark that the greater the irreligion, the more violent has often been the religious reaction. it is remarkable that plato's account of mind at the end of the laws goes beyond anaxagoras, and beyond himself in any of his previous writings. aristotle, in a well-known passage (met.) which is an echo of the phaedo, remarks on the inconsistency of anaxagoras in introducing the agency of mind, and yet having recourse to other and inferior, probably material causes. but plato makes the further criticism, that the error of anaxagoras consisted, not in denying the universal agency of mind, but in denying the priority, or, as we should say, the eternity of it. yet in the timaeus he had himself allowed that god made the world out of pre-existing materials: in the statesman he says that there were seeds of evil in the world arising out of the remains of a former chaos which could not be got rid of; and even in the tenth book of the laws he has admitted that there are two souls, a good and evil. in the meno, the phaedrus, and the phaedo, he had spoken of the recovery of ideas from a former state of existence. but now he has attained to a clearer point of view: he has discarded these fancies. from meditating on the priority of the human soul to the body, he has learnt the nature of soul absolutely. the power of the best, of which he gave an intimation in the phaedo and in the republic, now, as in the philebus, takes the form of an intelligence or person. he no longer, like anaxagoras, supposes mind to be introduced at a certain time into the world and to give order to a pre-existing chaos, but to be prior to the chaos, everlasting and evermoving, and the source of order and intelligence in all things. this appears to be the last form of plato's religious philosophy, which might almost be summed up in the words of kant, 'the starry heaven above and the moral law within.' or rather, perhaps, 'the starry heaven above and mind prior to the world.' iv. the remarks about retail trade, about adulteration, and about mendicity, have a very modern character. greek social life was more like our own than we are apt to suppose. there was the same division of ranks, the same aristocratic and democratic feeling, and, even in a democracy, the same preference for land and for agricultural pursuits. plato may be claimed as the first free trader, when he prohibits the imposition of customs on imports and exports, though he was clearly not aware of the importance of the principle which he enunciated. the discredit of retail trade he attributes to the rogueries of traders, and is inclined to believe that if a nobleman would keep a shop, which heaven forbid! retail trade might become honourable. he has hardly lighted upon the true reason, which appears to be the essential distinction between buyers and sellers, the one class being necessarily in some degree dependent on the other. when he proposes to fix prices 'which would allow a moderate gain,' and to regulate trade in several minute particulars, we must remember that this is by no means so absurd in a city consisting of citizens, in which almost every one would know and become known to everybody else, as in our own vast population. among ourselves we are very far from allowing every man to charge what he pleases. of many things the prices are fixed by law. do we not often hear of wages being adjusted in proportion to the profits of employers? the objection to regulating them by law and thus avoiding the conflicts which continually arise between the buyers and sellers of labour, is not so much the undesirableness as the impossibility of doing so. wherever free competition is not reconcileable either with the order of society, or, as in the case of adulteration, with common honesty, the government may lawfully interfere. the only question is,--whether the interference will be effectual, and whether the evil of interference may not be greater than the evil which is prevented by it. he would prohibit beggars, because in a well-ordered state no good man would be left to starve. this again is a prohibition which might have been easily enforced, for there is no difficulty in maintaining the poor when the population is small. in our own times the difficulty of pauperism is rendered far greater, ( ) by the enormous numbers, ( ) by the facility of locomotion, ( ) by the increasing tenderness for human life and suffering. and the only way of meeting the difficulty seems to be by modern nations subdividing themselves into small bodies having local knowledge and acting together in the spirit of ancient communities (compare arist. pol.) v. regarded as the framework of a polity the laws are deemed by plato to be a decline from the republic, which is the dream of his earlier years. he nowhere imagines that he has reached a higher point of speculation. he is only descending to the level of human things, and he often returns to his original idea. for the guardians of the republic, who were the elder citizens, and were all supposed to be philosophers, is now substituted a special body, who are to review and amend the laws, preserving the spirit of the legislator. these are the nocturnal council, who, although they are not specially trained in dialectic, are not wholly destitute of it; for they must know the relation of particular virtues to the general principle of virtue. plato has been arguing throughout the laws that temperance is higher than courage, peace than war, that the love of both must enter into the character of the good citizen. and at the end the same thought is summed up by him in an abstract form. the true artist or guardian must be able to reduce the many to the one, than which, as he says with an enthusiasm worthy of the phaedrus or philebus, 'no more philosophical method was ever devised by the wit of man.' but the sense of unity in difference can only be acquired by study; and plato does not explain to us the nature of this study, which we may reasonably infer, though there is a remarkable omission of the word, to be akin to the dialectic of the republic. the nocturnal council is to consist of the priests who have obtained the rewards of virtue, of the ten eldest guardians of the law, and of the director and ex-directors of education; each of whom is to select for approval a younger coadjutor. to this council the 'spectator,' who is sent to visit foreign countries, has to make his report. it is not an administrative body, but an assembly of sages who are to make legislation their study. plato is not altogether disinclined to changes in the law where experience shows them to be necessary; but he is also anxious that the original spirit of the constitution should never be lost sight of. the laws of plato contain the latest phase of his philosophy, showing in many respects an advance, and in others a decline, in his views of life and the world. his theory of ideas in the next generation passed into one of numbers, the nature of which we gather chiefly from the metaphysics of aristotle. of the speculative side of this theory there are no traces in the laws, but doubtless plato found the practical value which he attributed to arithmetic greatly confirmed by the possibility of applying number and measure to the revolution of the heavens, and to the regulation of human life. in the return to a doctrine of numbers there is a retrogression rather than an advance; for the most barren logical abstraction is of a higher nature than number and figure. philosophy fades away into the distance; in the laws it is confined to the members of the nocturnal council. the speculative truth which was the food of the guardians in the republic, is for the majority of the citizens to be superseded by practical virtues. the law, which is the expression of mind written down, takes the place of the living word of the philosopher. (compare the contrast of phaedrus, and laws; also the plays on the words nous, nomos, nou dianome; and the discussion in the statesman of the difference between the personal rule of a king and the impersonal reign of law.) the state is based on virtue and religion rather than on knowledge; and virtue is no longer identified with knowledge, being of the commoner sort, and spoken of in the sense generally understood. yet there are many traces of advance as well as retrogression in the laws of plato. the attempt to reconcile the ideal with actual life is an advance; to 'have brought philosophy down from heaven to earth,' is a praise which may be claimed for him as well as for his master socrates. and the members of the nocturnal council are to continue students of the 'one in many' and of the nature of god. education is the last word with which plato supposes the theory of the laws to end and the reality to begin. plato's increasing appreciation of the difficulties of human affairs, and of the element of chance which so largely influences them, is an indication not of a narrower, but of a maturer mind, which had become more conversant with realities. nor can we fairly attribute any want of originality to him, because he has borrowed many of his provisions from sparta and athens. laws and institutions grow out of habits and customs; and they have 'better opinion, better confirmation,' if they have come down from antiquity and are not mere literary inventions. plato would have been the first to acknowledge that the book of laws was not the creation of his fancy, but a collection of enactments which had been devised by inspired legislators, like minos, lycurgus, and solon, to meet the actual needs of men, and had been approved by time and experience. in order to do justice therefore to the design of the work, it is necessary to examine how far it rests on an historical foundation and coincides with the actual laws of sparta and athens. the consideration of the historical aspect of the laws has been reserved for this place. in working out the comparison the writer has been greatly assisted by the excellent essays of c.f. hermann ('de vestigiis institutorum veterum, imprimis atticorum, per platonis de legibus libros indagandis,' and 'juris domestici et familiaris apud platonem in legibus cum veteris graeciae inque primis athenarum institutis comparatio': marburg, ), and by j.b. telfy's 'corpus juris attici' (leipzig, ). excursus on the relation of the laws of plato to the institutions of crete and lacedaemon and to the laws and constitution of athens. the laws of plato are essentially greek: unlike xenophon's cyropaedia, they contain nothing foreign or oriental. their aim is to reconstruct the work of the great lawgivers of hellas in a literary form. they partake both of an athenian and a spartan character. some of them too are derived from crete, and are appropriately transferred to a cretan colony. but of crete so little is known to us, that although, as montesquieu (esprit des lois) remarks, 'the laws of crete are the original of those of sparta and the laws of plato the correction of these latter,' there is only one point, viz. the common meals, in which they can be compared. most of plato's provisions resemble the laws and customs which prevailed in these three states (especially in the two former), and which the personifying instinct of the greeks attributed to minos, lycurgus, and solon. a very few particulars may have been borrowed from zaleucus (cic. de legibus), and charondas, who is said to have first made laws against perjury (arist. pol.) and to have forbidden credit (stob. florileg., gaisford). some enactments are plato's own, and were suggested by his experience of defects in the athenian and other greek states. the laws also contain many lesser provisions, which are not found in the ordinary codes of nations, because they cannot be properly defined, and are therefore better left to custom and common sense. 'the greater part of the work,' as aristotle remarks (pol.), 'is taken up with laws': yet this is not wholly true, and applies to the latter rather than to the first half of it. the book rests on an ethical and religious foundation: the actual laws begin with a hymn of praise in honour of the soul. and the same lofty aspiration after the good is perpetually recurring, especially in books x, xi, xii, and whenever plato's mind is filled with his highest themes. in prefixing to most of his laws a prooemium he has two ends in view, to persuade and also to threaten. they are to have the sanction of laws and the effect of sermons. and plato's 'book of laws,' if described in the language of modern philosophy, may be said to be as much an ethical and educational, as a political or legal treatise. but although the laws partake both of an athenian and a spartan character, the elements which are borrowed from either state are necessarily very different, because the character and origin of the two governments themselves differed so widely. sparta was the more ancient and primitive: athens was suited to the wants of a later stage of society. the relation of the two states to the laws may be conceived in this manner:--the foundation and ground-plan of the work are more spartan, while the superstructure and details are more athenian. at athens the laws were written down and were voluminous; more than a thousand fragments of them have been collected by telfy. like the roman or english law, they contained innumerable particulars. those of them which regulated daily life were familiarly known to the athenians; for every citizen was his own lawyer, and also a judge, who decided the rights of his fellow-citizens according to the laws, often after hearing speeches from the parties interested or from their advocates. it is to rome and not to athens that the invention of law, in the modern sense of the term, is commonly ascribed. but it must be remembered that long before the times of the twelve tables (b.c. ), regular courts and forms of law had existed at athens and probably in the greek colonies. and we may reasonably suppose, though without any express proof of the fact, that many roman institutions and customs, like latin literature and mythology, were partly derived from hellas and had imperceptibly drifted from one shore of the ionian sea to the other (compare especially the constitutions of servius tullius and of solon). it is not proved that the laws of sparta were in ancient times either written down in books or engraved on tablets of marble or brass. nor is it certain that, if they had been, the spartans could have read them. they were ancient customs, some of them older probably than the settlement in laconia, of which the origin is unknown; they occasionally received the sanction of the delphic oracle, but there was a still stronger obligation by which they were enforced,--the necessity of self-defence: the spartans were always living in the presence of their enemies. they belonged to an age when written law had not yet taken the place of custom and tradition. the old constitution was very rarely affected by new enactments, and these only related to the duties of the kings or ephors, or the new relations of classes which arose as time went on. hence there was as great a difference as could well be conceived between the laws of athens and sparta: the one was the creation of a civilized state, and did not differ in principle from our modern legislation, the other of an age in which the people were held together and also kept down by force of arms, and which afterwards retained many traces of its barbaric origin 'surviving in culture.' nevertheless the lacedaemonian was the ideal of a primitive greek state. according to thucydides it was the first which emerged out of confusion and became a regular government. it was also an army devoted to military exercises, but organized with a view to self-defence and not to conquest. it was not quick to move or easily excited; but stolid, cautious, unambitious, procrastinating. for many centuries it retained the same character which was impressed upon it by the hand of the legislator. this singular fabric was partly the result of circumstances, partly the invention of some unknown individual in prehistoric times, whose ideal of education was military discipline, and who, by the ascendency of his genius, made a small tribe into a nation which became famous in the world's history. the other hellenes wondered at the strength and stability of his work. the rest of hellas, says thucydides, undertook the colonisation of heraclea the more readily, having a feeling of security now that they saw the lacedaemonians taking part in it. the spartan state appears to us in the dawn of history as a vision of armed men, irresistible by any other power then existing in the world. it can hardly be said to have understood at all the rights or duties of nations to one another, or indeed to have had any moral principle except patriotism and obedience to commanders. men were so trained to act together that they lost the freedom and spontaneity of human life in cultivating the qualities of the soldier and ruler. the spartan state was a composite body in which kings, nobles, citizens, perioeci, artisans, slaves, had to find a 'modus vivendi' with one another. all of them were taught some use of arms. the strength of the family tie was diminished among them by an enforced absence from home and by common meals. sparta had no life or growth; no poetry or tradition of the past; no art, no thought. the athenians started on their great career some centuries later, but the spartans would have been easily conquered by them, if athens had not been deficient in the qualities which constituted the strength (and also the weakness) of her rival. the ideal of athens has been pictured for all time in the speech which thucydides puts into the mouth of pericles, called the funeral oration. he contrasts the activity and freedom and pleasantness of athenian life with the immobility and severe looks and incessant drill of the spartans. the citizens of no city were more versatile, or more readily changed from land to sea or more quickly moved about from place to place. they 'took their pleasures' merrily, and yet, when the time for fighting arrived, were not a whit behind the spartans, who were like men living in a camp, and, though always keeping guard, were often too late for the fray. any foreigner might visit athens; her ships found a way to the most distant shores; the riches of the whole earth poured in upon her. her citizens had their theatres and festivals; they 'provided their souls with many relaxations'; yet they were not less manly than the spartans or less willing to sacrifice this enjoyable existence for their country's good. the athenian was a nobler form of life than that of their rivals, a life of music as well as of gymnastic, the life of a citizen as well as of a soldier. such is the picture which thucydides has drawn of the athenians in their glory. it is the spirit of this life which plato would infuse into the magnesian state and which he seeks to combine with the common meals and gymnastic discipline of sparta. the two great types of athens and sparta had deeply entered into his mind. he had heard of sparta at a distance and from common hellenic fame: he was a citizen of athens and an athenian of noble birth. he must often have sat in the law-courts, and may have had personal experience of the duties of offices such as he is establishing. there is no need to ask the question, whence he derived his knowledge of the laws of athens: they were a part of his daily life. many of his enactments are recognized to be athenian laws from the fragments preserved in the orators and elsewhere: many more would be found to be so if we had better information. probably also still more of them would have been incorporated in the magnesian code, if the work had ever been finally completed. but it seems to have come down to us in a form which is partly finished and partly unfinished, having a beginning and end, but wanting arrangement in the middle. the laws answer to plato's own description of them, in the comparison which he makes of himself and his two friends to gatherers of stones or the beginners of some composite work, 'who are providing materials and partly putting them together:--having some of their laws, like stones, already fixed in their places, while others lie about.' plato's own life coincided with the period at which athens rose to her greatest heights and sank to her lowest depths. it was impossible that he should regard the blessings of democracy in the same light as the men of a former generation, whose view was not intercepted by the evil shadow of the taking of athens, and who had only the glories of marathon and salamis and the administration of pericles to look back upon. on the other hand the fame and prestige of sparta, which had outlived so many crimes and blunders, was not altogether lost at the end of the life of plato. hers was the only great hellenic government which preserved something of its ancient form; and although the spartan citizens were reduced to almost one-tenth of their original number (arist. pol.), she still retained, until the rise of thebes and macedon, a certain authority and predominance due to her final success in the struggle with athens and to the victories which agesilaus won in asia minor. plato, like aristotle, had in his mind some form of a mean state which should escape the evils and secure the advantages of both aristocracy and democracy. it may however be doubted whether the creation of such a state is not beyond the legislator's art, although there have been examples in history of forms of government, which through some community of interest or of origin, through a balance of parties in the state itself, or through the fear of a common enemy, have for a while preserved such a character of moderation. but in general there arises a time in the history of a state when the struggle between the few and the many has to be fought out. no system of checks and balances, such as plato has devised in the laws, could have given equipoise and stability to an ancient state, any more than the skill of the legislator could have withstood the tide of democracy in england or france during the last hundred years, or have given life to china or india. the basis of the magnesian constitution is the equal division of land. in the new state, as in the republic, there was to be neither poverty nor riches. every citizen under all circumstances retained his lot, and as much money as was necessary for the cultivation of it, and no one was allowed to accumulate property to the amount of more than five times the value of the lot, inclusive of it. the equal division of land was a spartan institution, not known to have existed elsewhere in hellas. the mention of it in the laws of plato affords considerable presumption that it was of ancient origin, and not first introduced, as mr. grote and others have imagined, in the reformation of cleomenes iii. but at sparta, if we may judge from the frequent complaints of the accumulation of property in the hands of a few persons (arist. pol.), no provision could have been made for the maintenance of the lot. plutarch indeed speaks of a law introduced by the ephor epitadeus soon after the peloponnesian war, which first allowed the spartans to sell their land (agis): but from the manner in which aristotle refers to the subject, we should imagine this evil in the state to be of a much older standing. like some other countries in which small proprietors have been numerous, the original equality passed into inequality, and, instead of a large middle class, there was probably at sparta greater disproportion in the property of the citizens than in any other state of hellas. plato was aware of the danger, and has improved on the spartan custom. the land, as at sparta, must have been tilled by slaves, since other occupations were found for the citizens. bodies of young men between the ages of twenty-five and thirty were engaged in making biennial peregrinations of the country. they and their officers are to be the magistrates, police, engineers, aediles, of the twelve districts into which the colony was divided. their way of life may be compared with that of the spartan secret police or crypteia, a name which plato freely applies to them without apparently any consciousness of the odium which has attached to the word in history. another great institution which plato borrowed from sparta (or crete) is the syssitia or common meals. these were established in both states, and in some respects were considered by aristotle to be better managed in crete than at lacedaemon (pol.). in the laws the cretan custom appears to be adopted (this is not proved, as hermann supposes ('de vestigiis,' etc.)): that is to say, if we may interpret plato by aristotle, the cost of them was defrayed by the state and not by the individuals (arist. pol); so that the members of the mess, who could not pay their quota, still retained their rights of citizenship. but this explanation is hardly consistent with the laws, where contributions to the syssitia from private estates are expressly mentioned. plato goes further than the legislators of sparta and crete, and would extend the common meals to women as well as men: he desires to curb the disorders, which existed among the female sex in both states, by the application to women of the same military discipline to which the men were already subject. it was an extension of the custom of syssitia from which the ancient legislators shrank, and which plato himself believed to be very difficult of enforcement. like sparta, the new colony was not to be surrounded by walls,--a state should learn to depend upon the bravery of its citizens only--a fallacy or paradox, if it is not to be regarded as a poetical fancy, which is fairly enough ridiculed by aristotle (pol.). women, too, must be ready to assist in the defence of their country: they are not to rush to the temples and altars, but to arm themselves with shield and spear. in the regulation of the syssitia, in at least one of his enactments respecting property, and in the attempt to correct the licence of women, plato shows, that while he borrowed from the institutions of sparta and favoured the spartan mode of life, he also sought to improve upon them. the enmity to the sea is another spartan feature which is transferred by plato to the magnesian state. he did not reflect that a non-maritime power would always be at the mercy of one which had a command of the great highway. their many island homes, the vast extent of coast which had to be protected by them, their struggles first of all with the phoenicians and carthaginians, and secondly with the persian fleets, forced the greeks, mostly against their will, to devote themselves to the sea. the islanders before the inhabitants of the continent, the maritime cities before the inland, the corinthians and athenians before the spartans, were compelled to fit out ships: last of all the spartans, by the pressure of the peloponnesian war, were driven to establish a naval force, which, after the battle of aegospotami, for more than a generation commanded the aegean. plato, like the spartans, had a prejudice against a navy, because he regarded it as the nursery of democracy. but he either never considered, or did not care to explain, how a city, set upon an island and 'distant not more than ten miles from the sea, having a seaboard provided with excellent harbours,' could have safely subsisted without one. neither the spartans nor the magnesian colonists were permitted to engage in trade or commerce. in order to limit their dealings as far as possible to their own country, they had a separate coinage; the magnesians were only allowed to use the common currency of hellas when they travelled abroad, which they were forbidden to do unless they received permission from the government. like the spartans, plato was afraid of the evils which might be introduced into his state by intercourse with foreigners; but he also shrinks from the utter exclusiveness of sparta, and is not unwilling to allow visitors of a suitable age and rank to come from other states to his own, as he also allows citizens of his own state to go to foreign countries and bring back a report of them. such international communication seemed to him both honourable and useful. we may now notice some points in which the commonwealth of the laws approximates to the athenian model. these are much more numerous than the previous class of resemblances; we are better able to compare the laws of plato with those of athens, because a good deal more is known to us of athens than of sparta. the information which we possess about athenian law, though comparatively fuller, is still fragmentary. the sources from which our knowledge is derived are chiefly the following:-- ( ) the orators,--antiphon, andocides, lysias, isocrates, demosthenes, aeschines, lycurgus, and others. ( ) herodotus, thucydides, xenophon, plato, aristotle, as well as later writers, such as cicero de legibus, plutarch, aelian, pausanias. ( ) lexicographers, such as harpocration, pollux, hesychius, suidas, and the compiler of the etymologicum magnum, many of whom are of uncertain date, and to a great extent based upon one another. their writings extend altogether over more than eight hundred years, from the second to the tenth century. ( ) the scholia on aristophanes, plato, demosthenes. ( ) a few inscriptions. our knowledge of a subject derived from such various sources and for the most part of uncertain date and origin, is necessarily precarious. no critic can separate the actual laws of solon from those which passed under his name in later ages. nor do the scholiasts and lexicographers attempt to distinguish how many of these laws were still in force at the time when they wrote, or when they fell into disuse and were to be found in books only. nor can we hastily assume that enactments which occur in the laws of plato were also a part of athenian law, however probable this may appear. there are two classes of similarities between plato's laws and those of athens: (i) of institutions (ii) of minor enactments. (i) the constitution of the laws in its general character resembles much more nearly the athenian constitution of solon's time than that which succeeded it, or the extreme democracy which prevailed in plato's own day. it was a mean state which he hoped to create, equally unlike a syracusan tyranny or the mob-government of the athenian assembly. there are various expedients by which he sought to impart to it the quality of moderation. ( ) the whole people were to be educated: they could not be all trained in philosophy, but they were to acquire the simple elements of music, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy; they were also to be subject to military discipline, archontes kai archomenoi. ( ) the majority of them were, or had been at some time in their lives, magistrates, and had the experience which is given by office. ( ) the persons who held the highest offices were to have a further education, not much inferior to that provided for the guardians in the republic, though the range of their studies is narrowed to the nature and divisions of virtue: here their philosophy comes to an end. ( ) the entire number of the citizens ( ) rarely, if ever, assembled, except for purposes of elections. the whole people were divided into four classes, each having the right to be represented by the same number of members in the council. the result of such an arrangement would be, as in the constitution of servius tullius, to give a disproportionate share of power to the wealthier classes, who may be supposed to be always much fewer in number than the poorer. this tendency was qualified by the complicated system of selection by vote, previous to the final election by lot, of which the object seems to be to hand over to the wealthy few the power of selecting from the many poor, and vice versa. ( ) the most important body in the state was the nocturnal council, which is borrowed from the areopagus at athens, as it existed, or was supposed to have existed, in the days before ephialtes and the eumenides of aeschylus, when its power was undiminished. in some particulars plato appears to have copied exactly the customs and procedure of the areopagus: both assemblies sat at night (telfy). there was a resemblance also in more important matters. like the areopagus, the nocturnal council was partly composed of magistrates and other state officials, whose term of office had expired. ( ) the constitution included several diverse and even opposing elements, such as the assembly and the nocturnal council. ( ) there was much less exclusiveness than at sparta; the citizens were to have an interest in the government of neighbouring states, and to know what was going on in the rest of the world.--all these were moderating influences. a striking similarity between athens and the constitution of the magnesian colony is the use of the lot in the election of judges and other magistrates. that such a mode of election should have been resorted to in any civilized state, or that it should have been transferred by plato to an ideal or imaginary one, is very singular to us. the most extreme democracy of modern times has never thought of leaving government wholly to chance. it was natural that socrates should scoff at it, and ask, 'who would choose a pilot or carpenter or flute-player by lot' (xen. mem.)? yet there were many considerations which made this mode of choice attractive both to the oligarch and to the democrat:--( ) it seemed to recognize that one man was as good as another, and that all the members of the governing body, whether few or many, were on a perfect equality in every sense of the word. ( ) to the pious mind it appeared to be a choice made, not by man, but by heaven (compare laws). ( ) it afforded a protection against corruption and intrigue...it must also be remembered that, although elected by lot, the persons so elected were subject to a scrutiny before they entered on their office, and were therefore liable, after election, if disqualified, to be rejected (laws). they were, moreover, liable to be called to account after the expiration of their office. in the election of councillors plato introduces a further check: they are not to be chosen directly by lot from all the citizens, but from a select body previously elected by vote. in plato's state at least, as we may infer from his silence on this point, judges and magistrates performed their duties without pay, which was a guarantee both of their disinterestedness and of their belonging probably to the higher class of citizens (compare arist. pol.). hence we are not surprised that the use of the lot prevailed, not only in the election of the athenian council, but also in many oligarchies, and even in plato's colony. the evil consequences of the lot are to a great extent avoided, if the magistrates so elected do not, like the dicasts at athens, receive pay from the state. another parallel is that of the popular assembly, which at athens was omnipotent, but in the laws has only a faded and secondary existence. in plato it was chiefly an elective body, having apparently no judicial and little political power entrusted to it. at athens it was the mainspring of the democracy; it had the decision of war or peace, of life and death; the acts of generals or statesmen were authorized or condemned by it; no office or person was above its control. plato was far from allowing such a despotic power to exist in his model community, and therefore he minimizes the importance of the assembly and narrows its functions. he probably never asked himself a question, which naturally occurs to the modern reader, where was to be the central authority in this new community, and by what supreme power would the differences of inferior powers be decided. at the same time he magnifies and brings into prominence the nocturnal council (which is in many respects a reflection of the areopagus), but does not make it the governing body of the state. between the judicial system of the laws and that of athens there was very great similarity, and a difference almost equally great. plato not unfrequently adopts the details when he rejects the principle. at athens any citizen might be a judge and member of the great court of the heliaea. this was ordinarily subdivided into a number of inferior courts, but an occasion is recorded on which the whole body, in number six thousand, met in a single court (andoc. de myst.). plato significantly remarks that a few judges, if they are good, are better than a great number. he also, at least in capital cases, confines the plaintiff and defendant to a single speech each, instead of allowing two apiece, as was the common practice at athens. on the other hand, in all private suits he gives two appeals, from the arbiters to the courts of the tribes, and from the courts of the tribes to the final or supreme court. there was nothing answering to this at athens. the three courts were appointed in the following manner:--the arbiters were to be agreed upon by the parties to the cause; the judges of the tribes to be elected by lot; the highest tribunal to be chosen at the end of each year by the great officers of state out of their own number--they were to serve for a year, to undergo a scrutiny, and, unlike the athenian judges, to vote openly. plato does not dwell upon methods of procedure: these are the lesser matters which he leaves to the younger legislators. in cases of murder and some other capital offences, the cause was to be tried by a special tribunal, as was the custom at athens: military offences, too, as at athens, were decided by the soldiers. public causes in the laws, as sometimes at athens, were voted upon by the whole people: because, as plato remarks, they are all equally concerned in them. they were to be previously investigated by three of the principal magistrates. he believes also that in private suits all should take part; 'for he who has no share in the administration of justice is apt to imagine that he has no share in the state at all.' the wardens of the country, like the forty at athens, also exercised judicial power in small matters, as well as the wardens of the agora and city. the department of justice is better organized in plato than in an ordinary greek state, proceeding more by regular methods, and being more restricted to distinct duties. the executive of plato's laws, like the athenian, was different from that of a modern civilized state. the difference chiefly consists in this, that whereas among ourselves there are certain persons or classes of persons set apart for the execution of the duties of government, in ancient greece, as in all other communities in the earlier stages of their development, they were not equally distinguished from the rest of the citizens. the machinery of government was never so well organized as in the best modern states. the judicial department was not so completely separated from the legislative, nor the executive from the judicial, nor the people at large from the professional soldier, lawyer, or priest. to aristotle (pol.) it was a question requiring serious consideration--who should execute a sentence? there was probably no body of police to whom were entrusted the lives and properties of the citizens in any hellenic state. hence it might be reasonably expected that every man should be the watchman of every other, and in turn be watched by him. the ancients do not seem to have remembered the homely adage that, 'what is every man's business is no man's business,' or always to have thought of applying the principle of a division of labour to the administration of law and to government. every athenian was at some time or on some occasion in his life a magistrate, judge, advocate, soldier, sailor, policeman. he had not necessarily any private business; a good deal of his time was taken up with the duties of office and other public occupations. so, too, in plato's laws. a citizen was to interfere in a quarrel, if older than the combatants, or to defend the outraged party, if his junior. he was especially bound to come to the rescue of a parent who was ill-treated by his children. he was also required to prosecute the murderer of a kinsman. in certain cases he was allowed to arrest an offender. he might even use violence to an abusive person. any citizen who was not less than thirty years of age at times exercised a magisterial authority, to be enforced even by blows. both in the magnesian state and at athens many thousand persons must have shared in the highest duties of government, if a section only of the council, consisting of thirty or of fifty persons, as in the laws, or at athens after the days of cleisthenes, held office for a month, or for thirty-five days only. it was almost as if, in our own country, the ministry or the houses of parliament were to change every month. the average ability of the athenian and magnesian councillors could not have been very high, considering there were so many of them. and yet they were entrusted with the performance of the most important executive duties. in these respects the constitution of the laws resembles athens far more than sparta. all the citizens were to be, not merely soldiers, but politicians and administrators. (ii) there are numerous minor particulars in which the laws of plato resemble those of athens. these are less interesting than the preceding, but they show even more strikingly how closely in the composition of his work plato has followed the laws and customs of his own country. ( ) evidence. (a) at athens a child was not allowed to give evidence (telfy). plato has a similar law: 'a child shall be allowed to give evidence only in cases of murder.' (b) at athens an unwilling witness might be summoned; but he was not required to appear if he was ready to declare on oath that he knew nothing about the matter in question (telfy). so in the laws. (c) athenian law enacted that when more than half the witnesses in a case had been convicted of perjury, there was to be a new trial (anadikos krisis--telfy). there is a similar provision in the laws. (d) false-witness was punished at athens by atimia and a fine (telfy). plato is at once more lenient and more severe: 'if a man be twice convicted of false-witness, he shall not be required, and if thrice, he shall not be allowed to bear witness; and if he dare to witness after he has been convicted three times,...he shall be punished with death.' ( ) murder. (a) wilful murder was punished in athenian law by death, perpetual exile, and confiscation of property (telfy). plato, too, has the alternative of death or exile, but he does not confiscate the murderer's property. (b) the parricide was not allowed to escape by going into exile at athens (telfy), nor, apparently, in the laws. (c) a homicide, if forgiven by his victim before death, received no punishment, either at athens (telfy), or in the magnesian state. in both (telfy) the contriver of a murder is punished as severely as the doer; and persons accused of the crime are forbidden to enter temples or the agora until they have been tried (telfy). (d) at athens slaves who killed their masters and were caught red-handed, were not to be put to death by the relations of the murdered man, but to be handed over to the magistrates (telfy). so in the laws, the slave who is guilty of wilful murder has a public execution: but if the murder is committed in anger, it is punished by the kinsmen of the victim. ( ) involuntary homicide. (a) the guilty person, according to the athenian law, had to go into exile, and might not return, until the family of the man slain were conciliated. then he must be purified (telfy). if he is caught before he has obtained forgiveness, he may be put to death. these enactments reappear in the laws. (b) the curious provision of plato, that a stranger who has been banished for involuntary homicide and is subsequently wrecked upon the coast, must 'take up his abode on the sea-shore, wetting his feet in the sea, and watching for an opportunity of sailing,' recalls the procedure of the judicium phreatteum at athens, according to which an involuntary homicide, who, having gone into exile, is accused of a wilful murder, was tried at phreatto for this offence in a boat by magistrates on the shore. (c) a still more singular law, occurring both in the athenian and magnesian code, enacts that a stone or other inanimate object which kills a man is to be tried, and cast over the border (telfy). ( ) justifiable or excusable homicide. plato and athenian law agree in making homicide justifiable or excusable in the following cases:--( ) at the games (telfy); ( ) in war (telfy); ( ) if the person slain was found doing violence to a free woman (telfy); ( ) if a doctor's patient dies; ( ) in the case of a robber (telfy); ( ) in self-defence (telfy). ( ) impiety. death or expulsion was the athenian penalty for impiety (telfy). in the laws it is punished in various cases by imprisonment for five years, for life, and by death. ( ) sacrilege. robbery of temples at athens was punished by death, refusal of burial in the land, and confiscation of property (telfy). in the laws the citizen who is guilty of such a crime is to 'perish ingloriously and be cast beyond the borders of the land,' but his property is not confiscated. ( ) sorcery. the sorcerer at athens was to be executed (telfy): compare laws, where it is enacted that the physician who poisons and the professional sorcerer shall be punished with death. ( ) treason. both at athens and in the laws the penalty for treason was death (telfy), and refusal of burial in the country (telfy). ( ) sheltering exiles. 'if a man receives an exile, he shall be punished with death.' so, too, in athenian law (telfy.). ( ) wounding. athenian law compelled a man who had wounded another to go into exile; if he returned, he was to be put to death (telfy). plato only punishes the offence with death when children wound their parents or one another, or a slave wounds his master. ( ) bribery. death was the punishment for taking a bribe, both at athens (telfy) and in the laws; but athenian law offered an alternative--the payment of a fine of ten times the amount of the bribe. ( ) theft. plato, like athenian law (telfy), punishes the theft of public property by death; the theft of private property in both involves a fine of double the value of the stolen goods (telfy). ( ) suicide. he 'who slays him who of all men, as they say, is his own best friend,' is regarded in the same spirit by plato and by athenian law. plato would have him 'buried ingloriously on the borders of the twelve portions of the land, in such places as are uncultivated and nameless,' and 'no column or inscription is to mark the place of his interment.' athenian law enacted that the hand which did the deed should be separated from the body and be buried apart (telfy). ( ) injury. in cases of wilful injury, athenian law compelled the guilty person to pay double the damage; in cases of involuntary injury, simple damages (telfy). plato enacts that if a man wounds another in passion, and the wound is curable, he shall pay double the damage, if incurable or disfiguring, fourfold damages. if, however, the wounding is accidental, he shall simply pay for the harm done. ( ) treatment of parents. athenian law allowed any one to indict another for neglect or illtreatment of parents (telfy). so plato bids bystanders assist a father who is assaulted by his son, and allows any one to give information against children who neglect their parents. ( ) execution of sentences. both plato and athenian law give to the winner of a suit power to seize the goods of the loser, if he does not pay within the appointed time (telfy). at athens the penalty was also doubled (telfy); not so in plato. plato however punishes contempt of court by death, which at athens seems only to have been visited with a further fine (telfy). ( ) property. (a) both at athens and in the laws a man who has disputed property in his possession must give the name of the person from whom he received it (telfy); and any one searching for lost property must enter a house naked (telfy), or, as plato says, 'naked, or wearing only a short tunic and without a girdle. (b) athenian law, as well as plato, did not allow a father to disinherit his son without good reason and the consent of impartial persons (telfy). neither grants to the eldest son any special claim on the paternal estate (telfy). in the law of inheritance both prefer males to females (telfy). (c) plato and athenian law enacted that a tree should be planted at a fair distance from a neighbour's property (telfy), and that when a man could not get water, his neighbour must supply him (telfy). both at athens and in plato there is a law about bees, the former providing that a beehive must be set up at not less a distance than feet from a neighbour's (telfy), and the latter forbidding the decoying of bees. ( ) orphans. a ward must proceed against a guardian whom he suspects of fraud within five years of the expiration of the guardianship. this provision is common to plato and to athenian law (telfy). further, the latter enacted that the nearest male relation should marry or provide a husband for an heiress (telfy),--a point in which plato follows it closely. ( ) contracts. plato's law that 'when a man makes an agreement which he does not fulfil, unless the agreement be of a nature which the law or a vote of the assembly does not allow, or which he has made under the influence of some unjust compulsion, or which he is prevented from fulfilling against his will by some unexpected chance,--the other party may go to law with him,' according to pollux (quoted in telfy's note) prevailed also at athens. ( ) trade regulations. (a) lying was forbidden in the agora both by plato and at athens (telfy). (b) athenian law allowed an action of recovery against a man who sold an unsound slave as sound (telfy). plato's enactment is more explicit: he allows only an unskilled person (i.e. one who is not a trainer or physician) to take proceedings in such a case. (c) plato diverges from athenian practice in the disapproval of credit, and does not even allow the supply of goods on the deposit of a percentage of their value (telfy). he enacts that 'when goods are exchanged by buying and selling, a man shall deliver them and receive the price of them at a fixed place in the agora, and have done with the matter,' and that 'he who gives credit must be satisfied whether he obtain his money or not, for in such exchanges he will not be protected by law. (d) athenian law forbad an extortionate rate of interest (telfy); plato allows interest in one case only--if a contractor does not receive the price of his work within a year of the time agreed--and at the rate of per cent. per annum for every drachma a monthly interest of an obol. (e) both at athens and in the laws sales were to be registered (telfy), as well as births (telfy). ( ) sumptuary laws. extravagance at weddings (telfy), and at funerals (telfy) was forbidden at athens and also in the magnesian state. there remains the subject of family life, which in plato's laws partakes both of an athenian and spartan character. under this head may conveniently be included the condition of women and of slaves. to family life may be added citizenship. as at sparta, marriages are to be contracted for the good of the state; and they may be dissolved on the same ground, where there is a failure of issue,--the interest of the state requiring that every one of the lots should have an heir. divorces are likewise permitted by plato where there is an incompatibility of temper, as at athens by mutual consent. the duty of having children is also enforced by a still higher motive, expressed by plato in the noble words:--'a man should cling to immortality, and leave behind him children's children to be the servants of god in his place.' again, as at athens, the father is allowed to put away his undutiful son, but only with the consent of impartial persons (telfy), and the only suit which may be brought by a son against a father is for imbecility. the class of elder and younger men and women are still to regard one another, as in the republic, as standing in the relation of parents and children. this is a trait of spartan character rather than of athenian. a peculiar sanctity and tenderness was to be shown towards the aged; the parent or grandparent stricken with years was to be loved and worshipped like the image of a god, and was to be deemed far more able than any lifeless statue to bring good or ill to his descendants. great care is to be taken of orphans: they are entrusted to the fifteen eldest guardians of the law, who are to be 'lawgivers and fathers to them not inferior to their natural fathers,' as at athens they were entrusted to the archons. plato wishes to make the misfortune of orphanhood as little sad to them as possible. plato, seeing the disorder into which half the human race had fallen at athens and sparta, is minded to frame for them a new rule of life. he renounces his fanciful theory of communism, but still desires to place women as far as possible on an equality with men. they were to be trained in the use of arms, they are to live in public. their time was partly taken up with gymnastic exercises; there could have been little family or private life among them. their lot was to be neither like that of spartan women, who were made hard and common by excessive practice of gymnastic and the want of all other education,--nor yet like that of athenian women, who, at least among the upper classes, retired into a sort of oriental seclusion,--but something better than either. they were to be the perfect mothers of perfect children, yet not wholly taken up with the duties of motherhood, which were to be made easy to them as far as possible (compare republic), but able to share in the perils of war and to be the companions of their husbands. here, more than anywhere else, the spirit of the laws reverts to the republic. in speaking of them as the companions of their husbands we must remember that it is an athenian and not a spartan way of life which they are invited to share, a life of gaiety and brightness, not of austerity and abstinence, which often by a reaction degenerated into licence and grossness. in plato's age the subject of slavery greatly interested the minds of thoughtful men; and how best to manage this 'troublesome piece of goods' exercised his own mind a good deal. he admits that they have often been found better than brethren or sons in the hour of danger, and are capable of rendering important public services by informing against offenders--for this they are to be rewarded; and the master who puts a slave to death for the sake of concealing some crime which he has committed, is held guilty of murder. but they are not always treated with equal consideration. the punishments inflicted on them bear no proportion to their crimes. they are to be addressed only in the language of command. their masters are not to jest with them, lest they should increase the hardship of their lot. some privileges were granted to them by athenian law of which there is no mention in plato; they were allowed to purchase their freedom from their master, and if they despaired of being liberated by him they could demand to be sold, on the chance of falling into better hands. but there is no suggestion in the laws that a slave who tried to escape should be branded with the words--kateche me, pheugo, or that evidence should be extracted from him by torture, that the whole household was to be executed if the master was murdered and the perpetrator remained undetected: all these were provisions of athenian law. plato is more consistent than either the athenians or the spartans; for at sparta too the helots were treated in a manner almost unintelligible to us. on the one hand, they had arms put into their hands, and served in the army, not only, as at plataea, in attendance on their masters, but, after they had been manumitted, as a separate body of troops called neodamodes: on the other hand, they were the victims of one of the greatest crimes recorded in greek history (thucyd.). the two great philosophers of hellas sought to extricate themselves from this cruel condition of human life, but acquiesced in the necessity of it. a noble and pathetic sentiment of plato, suggested by the thought of their misery, may be quoted in this place:--'the right treatment of slaves is to behave properly to them, and to do to them, if possible, even more justice than to those who are our equals; for he who naturally and genuinely reverences justice, and hates injustice, is discovered in his dealings with any class of men to whom he can easily be unjust. and he who in regard to the natures and actions of his slaves is undefiled by impiety and injustice, will best sow the seeds of virtue in them; and this may be truly said of every master, and tyrant, and of every other having authority in relation to his inferiors.' all the citizens of the magnesian state were free and equal; there was no distinction of rank among them, such as is believed to have prevailed at sparta. their number was a fixed one, corresponding to the lots. one of the results of this is the requirement that younger sons or those who have been disinherited shall go out to a colony. at athens, where there was not the same religious feeling against increasing the size of the city, the number of citizens must have been liable to considerable fluctuations. several classes of persons, who were not citizens by birth, were admitted to the privilege. perpetual exiles from other countries, people who settled there to practise a trade (telfy), any one who had shown distinguished valour in the cause of athens, the plataeans who escaped from the siege, metics and strangers who offered to serve in the army, the slaves who fought at arginusae,--all these could or did become citizens. even those who were only on one side of athenian parentage were at more than one period accounted citizens. but at times there seems to have arisen a feeling against this promiscuous extension of the citizen body, an expression of which is to be found in the law of pericles--monous athenaious einai tous ek duoin athenaion gegonotas (plutarch, pericles); and at no time did the adopted citizen enjoy the full rights of citizenship--e.g. he might not be elected archon or to the office of priest (telfy), although this prohibition did not extend to his children, if born of a citizen wife. plato never thinks of making the metic, much less the slave, a citizen. his treatment of the former class is at once more gentle and more severe than that which prevailed at athens. he imposes upon them no tax but good behaviour, whereas at athens they were required to pay twelve drachmae per annum, and to have a patron: on the other hand, he only allows them to reside in the magnesian state on condition of following a trade; they were required to depart when their property exceeded that of the third class, and in any case after a residence of twenty years, unless they could show that they had conferred some great benefit on the state. this privileged position reflects that of the isoteleis at athens, who were excused from the metoikion. it is plato's greatest concession to the metic, as the bestowal of freedom is his greatest concession to the slave. lastly, there is a more general point of view under which the laws of plato may be considered,--the principles of jurisprudence which are contained in them. these are not formally announced, but are scattered up and down, to be observed by the reflective reader for himself. some of them are only the common principles which all courts of justice have gathered from experience; others are peculiar and characteristic. that judges should sit at fixed times and hear causes in a regular order, that evidence should be laid before them, that false witnesses should be disallowed, and corruption punished, that defendants should be heard before they are convicted,--these are the rules, not only of the hellenic courts, but of courts of law in all ages and countries. but there are also points which are peculiar, and in which ancient jurisprudence differs considerably from modern; some of them are of great importance...it could not be said at athens, nor was it ever contemplated by plato, that all men, including metics and slaves, should be equal 'in the eye of the law.' there was some law for the slave, but not much; no adequate protection was given him against the cruelty of his master...it was a singular privilege granted, both by the athenian and magnesian law, to a murdered man, that he might, before he died, pardon his murderer, in which case no legal steps were afterwards to be taken against him. this law is the remnant of an age in which the punishment of offences against the person was the concern rather of the individual and his kinsmen than of the state...plato's division of crimes into voluntary and involuntary and those done from passion, only partially agrees with the distinction which modern law has drawn between murder and manslaughter; his attempt to analyze them is confused by the socratic paradox, that 'all vice is involuntary'...it is singular that both in the laws and at athens theft is commonly punished by a twofold restitution of the article stolen. the distinction between civil and criminal courts or suits was not yet recognized...possession gives a right of property after a certain time...the religious aspect under which certain offences were regarded greatly interfered with a just and natural estimate of their guilt...as among ourselves, the intent to murder was distinguished by plato from actual murder...we note that both in plato and the laws of athens, libel in the market-place and personality in the theatre were forbidden...both in plato and athenian law, as in modern times, the accomplice of a crime is to be punished as well as the principal...plato does not allow a witness in a cause to act as a judge of it...oaths are not to be taken by the parties to a suit...both at athens and in plato's laws capital punishment for murder was not to be inflicted, if the offender was willing to go into exile...respect for the dead, duty towards parents, are to be enforced by the law as well as by public opinion...plato proclaims the noble sentiment that the object of all punishment is the improvement of the offender... finally, he repeats twice over, as with the voice of a prophet, that the crimes of the fathers are not to be visited upon the children. in this respect he is nobly distinguished from the oriental, and indeed from the spirit of athenian law (compare telfy,--dei kai autous kai tous ek touton atimous einai), as the hebrew in the age of ezekial is from the jewish people of former ages. of all plato's provisions the object is to bring the practice of the law more into harmony with reason and philosophy; to secure impartiality, and while acknowledging that every citizen has a right to share in the administration of justice, to counteract the tendency of the courts to become mere popular assemblies. ... thus we have arrived at the end of the writings of plato, and at the last stage of philosophy which was really his. for in what followed, which we chiefly gather from the uncertain intimations of aristotle, the spirit of the master no longer survived. the doctrine of ideas passed into one of numbers; instead of advancing from the abstract to the concrete, the theories of plato were taken out of their context, and either asserted or refuted with a provoking literalism; the socratic or platonic element in his teaching was absorbed into the pythagorean or megarian. his poetry was converted into mysticism; his unsubstantial visions were assailed secundum artem by the rules of logic. his political speculations lost their interest when the freedom of hellas had passed away. of all his writings the laws were the furthest removed from the traditions of the platonic school in the next generation. both his political and his metaphysical philosophy are for the most part misinterpreted by aristotle. the best of him--his love of truth, and his 'contemplation of all time and all existence,' was soonest lost; and some of his greatest thoughts have slept in the ear of mankind almost ever since they were first uttered. we have followed him during his forty or fifty years of authorship, from the beginning when he first attempted to depict the teaching of socrates in a dramatic form, down to the time at which the character of socrates had disappeared, and we have the latest reflections of plato's own mind upon hellas and upon philosophy. he, who was 'the last of the poets,' in his book of laws writes prose only; he has himself partly fallen under the rhetorical influences which in his earlier dialogues he was combating. the progress of his writings is also the history of his life; we have no other authentic life of him. they are the true self of the philosopher, stripped of the accidents of time and place. the great effort which he makes is, first, to realize abstractions, secondly, to connect them. in the attempt to realize them, he was carried into a transcendental region in which he isolated them from experience, and we pass out of the range of science into poetry or fiction. the fancies of mythology for a time cast a veil over the gulf which divides phenomena from onta (meno, phaedrus, symposium, phaedo). in his return to earth plato meets with a difficulty which has long ceased to be a difficulty to us. he cannot understand how these obstinate, unmanageable ideas, residing alone in their heaven of abstraction, can be either combined with one another, or adapted to phenomena (parmenides, philebus, sophist). that which is the most familiar process of our own minds, to him appeared to be the crowning achievement of the dialectical art. the difficulty which in his own generation threatened to be the destruction of philosophy, he has rendered unmeaning and ridiculous. for by his conquests in the world of mind our thoughts are widened, and he has furnished us with new dialectical instruments which are of greater compass and power. we have endeavoured to see him as he truly was, a great original genius struggling with unequal conditions of knowledge, not prepared with a system nor evolving in a series of dialogues ideas which he had long conceived, but contradictory, enquiring as he goes along, following the argument, first from one point of view and then from another, and therefore arriving at opposite conclusions, hovering around the light, and sometimes dazzled with excess of light, but always moving in the same element of ideal truth. we have seen him also in his decline, when the wings of his imagination have begun to droop, but his experience of life remains, and he turns away from the contemplation of the eternal to take a last sad look at human affairs. ... and so having brought into the world 'noble children' (phaedr.), he rests from the labours of authorship. more than two thousand two hundred years have passed away since he returned to the place of apollo and the muses. yet the echo of his words continues to be heard among men, because of all philosophers he has the most melodious voice. he is the inspired prophet or teacher who can never die, the only one in whom the outward form adequately represents the fair soul within; in whom the thoughts of all who went before him are reflected and of all who come after him are partly anticipated. other teachers of philosophy are dried up and withered,--after a few centuries they have become dust; but he is fresh and blooming, and is always begetting new ideas in the minds of men. they are one-sided and abstract; but he has many sides of wisdom. nor is he always consistent with himself, because he is always moving onward, and knows that there are many more things in philosophy than can be expressed in words, and that truth is greater than consistency. he who approaches him in the most reverent spirit shall reap most of the fruit of his wisdom; he who reads him by the light of ancient commentators will have the least understanding of him. we may see him with the eye of the mind in the groves of the academy, or on the banks of the ilissus, or in the streets of athens, alone or walking with socrates, full of those thoughts which have since become the common possession of mankind. or we may compare him to a statue hid away in some temple of zeus or apollo, no longer existing on earth, a statue which has a look as of the god himself. or we may once more imagine him following in another state of being the great company of heaven which he beheld of old in a vision (phaedr.). so, 'partly trifling, but with a certain degree of seriousness' (symp.), we linger around the memory of a world which has passed away (phaedr.). laws book i. persons of the dialogue: an athenian stranger, cleinias (a cretan), megillus (a lacedaemonian). athenian: tell me, strangers, is a god or some man supposed to be the author of your laws? cleinias: a god, stranger; in very truth a god: among us cretans he is said to have been zeus, but in lacedaemon, whence our friend here comes, i believe they would say that apollo is their lawgiver: would they not, megillus? megillus: certainly. athenian: and do you, cleinias, believe, as homer tells, that every ninth year minos went to converse with his olympian sire, and was inspired by him to make laws for your cities? cleinias: yes, that is our tradition; and there was rhadamanthus, a brother of his, with whose name you are familiar; he is reputed to have been the justest of men, and we cretans are of opinion that he earned this reputation from his righteous administration of justice when he was alive. athenian: yes, and a noble reputation it was, worthy of a son of zeus. as you and megillus have been trained in these institutions, i dare say that you will not be unwilling to give an account of your government and laws; on our way we can pass the time pleasantly in talking about them, for i am told that the distance from cnosus to the cave and temple of zeus is considerable; and doubtless there are shady places under the lofty trees, which will protect us from this scorching sun. being no longer young, we may often stop to rest beneath them, and get over the whole journey without difficulty, beguiling the time by conversation. cleinias: yes, stranger, and if we proceed onward we shall come to groves of cypresses, which are of rare height and beauty, and there are green meadows, in which we may repose and converse. athenian: very good. cleinias: very good, indeed; and still better when we see them; let us move on cheerily. athenian: i am willing--and first, i want to know why the law has ordained that you shall have common meals and gymnastic exercises, and wear arms. cleinias: i think, stranger, that the aim of our institutions is easily intelligible to any one. look at the character of our country: crete is not like thessaly, a large plain; and for this reason they have horsemen in thessaly, and we have runners--the inequality of the ground in our country is more adapted to locomotion on foot; but then, if you have runners you must have light arms--no one can carry a heavy weight when running, and bows and arrows are convenient because they are light. now all these regulations have been made with a view to war, and the legislator appears to me to have looked to this in all his arrangements:--the common meals, if i am not mistaken, were instituted by him for a similar reason, because he saw that while they are in the field the citizens are by the nature of the case compelled to take their meals together for the sake of mutual protection. he seems to me to have thought the world foolish in not understanding that all men are always at war with one another; and if in war there ought to be common meals and certain persons regularly appointed under others to protect an army, they should be continued in peace. for what men in general term peace would be said by him to be only a name; in reality every city is in a natural state of war with every other, not indeed proclaimed by heralds, but everlasting. and if you look closely, you will find that this was the intention of the cretan legislator; all institutions, private as well as public, were arranged by him with a view to war; in giving them he was under the impression that no possessions or institutions are of any value to him who is defeated in battle; for all the good things of the conquered pass into the hands of the conquerors. athenian: you appear to me, stranger, to have been thoroughly trained in the cretan institutions, and to be well informed about them; will you tell me a little more explicitly what is the principle of government which you would lay down? you seem to imagine that a well-governed state ought to be so ordered as to conquer all other states in war: am i right in supposing this to be your meaning? cleinias: certainly; and our lacedaemonian friend, if i am not mistaken, will agree with me. megillus: why, my good friend, how could any lacedaemonian say anything else? athenian: and is what you say applicable only to states, or also to villages? cleinias: to both alike. athenian: the case is the same? cleinias: yes. athenian: and in the village will there be the same war of family against family, and of individual against individual? cleinias: the same. athenian: and should each man conceive himself to be his own enemy:--what shall we say? cleinias: o athenian stranger--inhabitant of attica i will not call you, for you seem to deserve rather to be named after the goddess herself, because you go back to first principles,--you have thrown a light upon the argument, and will now be better able to understand what i was just saying,--that all men are publicly one another's enemies, and each man privately his own. (athenian: my good sir, what do you mean?)-- cleinias:...moreover, there is a victory and defeat--the first and best of victories, the lowest and worst of defeats--which each man gains or sustains at the hands, not of another, but of himself; this shows that there is a war against ourselves going on within every one of us. athenian: let us now reverse the order of the argument: seeing that every individual is either his own superior or his own inferior, may we say that there is the same principle in the house, the village, and the state? cleinias: you mean that in each of them there is a principle of superiority or inferiority to self? athenian: yes. cleinias: you are quite right in asking the question, for there certainly is such a principle, and above all in states; and the state in which the better citizens win a victory over the mob and over the inferior classes may be truly said to be better than itself, and may be justly praised, where such a victory is gained, or censured in the opposite case. athenian: whether the better is ever really conquered by the worse, is a question which requires more discussion, and may be therefore left for the present. but i now quite understand your meaning when you say that citizens who are of the same race and live in the same cities may unjustly conspire, and having the superiority in numbers may overcome and enslave the few just; and when they prevail, the state may be truly called its own inferior and therefore bad; and when they are defeated, its own superior and therefore good. cleinias: your remark, stranger, is a paradox, and yet we cannot possibly deny it. athenian: here is another case for consideration;--in a family there may be several brothers, who are the offspring of a single pair; very possibly the majority of them may be unjust, and the just may be in a minority. cleinias: very possibly. athenian: and you and i ought not to raise a question of words as to whether this family and household are rightly said to be superior when they conquer, and inferior when they are conquered; for we are not now considering what may or may not be the proper or customary way of speaking, but we are considering the natural principles of right and wrong in laws. cleinias: what you say, stranger, is most true. megillus: quite excellent, in my opinion, as far as we have gone. athenian: again; might there not be a judge over these brethren, of whom we were speaking? cleinias: certainly. athenian: now, which would be the better judge--one who destroyed the bad and appointed the good to govern themselves; or one who, while allowing the good to govern, let the bad live, and made them voluntarily submit? or third, i suppose, in the scale of excellence might be placed a judge, who, finding the family distracted, not only did not destroy any one, but reconciled them to one another for ever after, and gave them laws which they mutually observed, and was able to keep them friends. cleinias: the last would be by far the best sort of judge and legislator. athenian: and yet the aim of all the laws which he gave would be the reverse of war. cleinias: very true. athenian: and will he who constitutes the state and orders the life of man have in view external war, or that kind of intestine war called civil, which no one, if he could prevent, would like to have occurring in his own state; and when occurring, every one would wish to be quit of as soon as possible? cleinias: he would have the latter chiefly in view. athenian: and would he prefer that this civil war should be terminated by the destruction of one of the parties, and by the victory of the other, or that peace and friendship should be re-established, and that, being reconciled, they should give their attention to foreign enemies? cleinias: every one would desire the latter in the case of his own state. athenian: and would not that also be the desire of the legislator? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and would not every one always make laws for the sake of the best? cleinias: to be sure. athenian: but war, whether external or civil, is not the best, and the need of either is to be deprecated; but peace with one another, and good will, are best. nor is the victory of the state over itself to be regarded as a really good thing, but as a necessity; a man might as well say that the body was in the best state when sick and purged by medicine, forgetting that there is also a state of the body which needs no purge. and in like manner no one can be a true statesman, whether he aims at the happiness of the individual or state, who looks only, or first of all, to external warfare; nor will he ever be a sound legislator who orders peace for the sake of war, and not war for the sake of peace. cleinias: i suppose that there is truth, stranger, in that remark of yours; and yet i am greatly mistaken if war is not the entire aim and object of our own institutions, and also of the lacedaemonian. athenian: i dare say; but there is no reason why we should rudely quarrel with one another about your legislators, instead of gently questioning them, seeing that both we and they are equally in earnest. please follow me and the argument closely:--and first i will put forward tyrtaeus, an athenian by birth, but also a spartan citizen, who of all men was most eager about war: well, he says, 'i sing not, i care not, about any man, even if he were the richest of men, and possessed every good (and then he gives a whole list of them), if he be not at all times a brave warrior.' i imagine that you, too, must have heard his poems; our lacedaemonian friend has probably heard more than enough of them. megillus: very true. cleinias: and they have found their way from lacedaemon to crete. athenian: come now and let us all join in asking this question of tyrtaeus: o most divine poet, we will say to him, the excellent praise which you have bestowed on those who excel in war sufficiently proves that you are wise and good, and i and megillus and cleinias of cnosus do, as i believe, entirely agree with you. but we should like to be quite sure that we are speaking of the same men; tell us, then, do you agree with us in thinking that there are two kinds of war; or what would you say? a far inferior man to tyrtaeus would have no difficulty in replying quite truly, that war is of two kinds,--one which is universally called civil war, and is, as we were just now saying, of all wars the worst; the other, as we should all admit, in which we fall out with other nations who are of a different race, is a far milder form of warfare. cleinias: certainly, far milder. athenian: well, now, when you praise and blame war in this high-flown strain, whom are you praising or blaming, and to which kind of war are you referring? i suppose that you must mean foreign war, if i am to judge from expressions of yours in which you say that you abominate those 'who refuse to look upon fields of blood, and will not draw near and strike at their enemies.' and we shall naturally go on to say to him,--you, tyrtaeus, as it seems, praise those who distinguish themselves in external and foreign war; and he must admit this. cleinias: evidently. athenian: they are good; but we say that there are still better men whose virtue is displayed in the greatest of all battles. and we too have a poet whom we summon as a witness, theognis, citizen of megara in sicily: 'cyrnus,' he says, 'he who is faithful in a civil broil is worth his weight in gold and silver.' and such an one is far better, as we affirm, than the other in a more difficult kind of war, much in the same degree as justice and temperance and wisdom, when united with courage, are better than courage only; for a man cannot be faithful and good in civil strife without having all virtue. but in the war of which tyrtaeus speaks, many a mercenary soldier will take his stand and be ready to die at his post, and yet they are generally and almost without exception insolent, unjust, violent men, and the most senseless of human beings. you will ask what the conclusion is, and what i am seeking to prove: i maintain that the divine legislator of crete, like any other who is worthy of consideration, will always and above all things in making laws have regard to the greatest virtue; which, according to theognis, is loyalty in the hour of danger, and may be truly called perfect justice. whereas, that virtue which tyrtaeus highly praises is well enough, and was praised by the poet at the right time, yet in place and dignity may be said to be only fourth rate (i.e., it ranks after justice, temperance, and wisdom.). cleinias: stranger, we are degrading our inspired lawgiver to a rank which is far beneath him. athenian: nay, i think that we degrade not him but ourselves, if we imagine that lycurgus and minos laid down laws both in lacedaemon and crete mainly with a view to war. cleinias: what ought we to say then? athenian: what truth and what justice require of us, if i am not mistaken, when speaking in behalf of divine excellence;--that the legislator when making his laws had in view not a part only, and this the lowest part of virtue, but all virtue, and that he devised classes of laws answering to the kinds of virtue; not in the way in which modern inventors of laws make the classes, for they only investigate and offer laws whenever a want is felt, and one man has a class of laws about allotments and heiresses, another about assaults; others about ten thousand other such matters. but we maintain that the right way of examining into laws is to proceed as we have now done, and i admired the spirit of your exposition; for you were quite right in beginning with virtue, and saying that this was the aim of the giver of the law, but i thought that you went wrong when you added that all his legislation had a view only to a part, and the least part of virtue, and this called forth my subsequent remarks. will you allow me then to explain how i should have liked to have heard you expound the matter? cleinias: by all means. athenian: you ought to have said, stranger--the cretan laws are with reason famous among the hellenes; for they fulfil the object of laws, which is to make those who use them happy; and they confer every sort of good. now goods are of two kinds: there are human and there are divine goods, and the human hang upon the divine; and the state which attains the greater, at the same time acquires the less, or, not having the greater, has neither. of the lesser goods the first is health, the second beauty, the third strength, including swiftness in running and bodily agility generally, and the fourth is wealth, not the blind god (pluto), but one who is keen of sight, if only he has wisdom for his companion. for wisdom is chief and leader of the divine class of goods, and next follows temperance; and from the union of these two with courage springs justice, and fourth in the scale of virtue is courage. all these naturally take precedence of the other goods, and this is the order in which the legislator must place them, and after them he will enjoin the rest of his ordinances on the citizens with a view to these, the human looking to the divine, and the divine looking to their leader mind. some of his ordinances will relate to contracts of marriage which they make one with another, and then to the procreation and education of children, both male and female; the duty of the lawgiver will be to take charge of his citizens, in youth and age, and at every time of life, and to give them punishments and rewards; and in reference to all their intercourse with one another, he ought to consider their pains and pleasures and desires, and the vehemence of all their passions; he should keep a watch over them, and blame and praise them rightly by the mouth of the laws themselves. also with regard to anger and terror, and the other perturbations of the soul, which arise out of misfortune, and the deliverances from them which prosperity brings, and the experiences which come to men in diseases, or in war, or poverty, or the opposite of these; in all these states he should determine and teach what is the good and evil of the condition of each. in the next place, the legislator has to be careful how the citizens make their money and in what way they spend it, and to have an eye to their mutual contracts and dissolutions of contracts, whether voluntary or involuntary: he should see how they order all this, and consider where justice as well as injustice is found or is wanting in their several dealings with one another; and honour those who obey the law, and impose fixed penalties on those who disobey, until the round of civil life is ended, and the time has come for the consideration of the proper funeral rites and honours of the dead. and the lawgiver reviewing his work, will appoint guardians to preside over these things,--some who walk by intelligence, others by true opinion only, and then mind will bind together all his ordinances and show them to be in harmony with temperance and justice, and not with wealth or ambition. this is the spirit, stranger, in which i was and am desirous that you should pursue the subject. and i want to know the nature of all these things, and how they are arranged in the laws of zeus, as they are termed, and in those of the pythian apollo, which minos and lycurgus gave; and how the order of them is discovered to his eyes, who has experience in laws gained either by study or habit, although they are far from being self-evident to the rest of mankind like ourselves. cleinias: how shall we proceed, stranger? athenian: i think that we must begin again as before, and first consider the habit of courage; and then we will go on and discuss another and then another form of virtue, if you please. in this way we shall have a model of the whole; and with these and similar discourses we will beguile the way. and when we have gone through all the virtues, we will show, by the grace of god, that the institutions of which i was speaking look to virtue. megillus: very good; and suppose that you first criticize this praiser of zeus and the laws of crete. athenian: i will try to criticize you and myself, as well as him, for the argument is a common concern. tell me,--were not first the syssitia, and secondly the gymnasia, invented by your legislator with a view to war? megillus: yes. athenian: and what comes third, and what fourth? for that, i think, is the sort of enumeration which ought to be made of the remaining parts of virtue, no matter whether you call them parts or what their name is, provided the meaning is clear. megillus: then i, or any other lacedaemonian, would reply that hunting is third in order. athenian: let us see if we can discover what comes fourth and fifth. megillus: i think that i can get as far as the fourth head, which is the frequent endurance of pain, exhibited among us spartans in certain hand-to-hand fights; also in stealing with the prospect of getting a good beating; there is, too, the so-called crypteia, or secret service, in which wonderful endurance is shown,--our people wander over the whole country by day and by night, and even in winter have not a shoe to their foot, and are without beds to lie upon, and have to attend upon themselves. marvellous, too, is the endurance which our citizens show in their naked exercises, contending against the violent summer heat; and there are many similar practices, to speak of which in detail would be endless. athenian: excellent, o lacedaemonian stranger. but how ought we to define courage? is it to be regarded only as a combat against fears and pains, or also against desires and pleasures, and against flatteries; which exercise such a tremendous power, that they make the hearts even of respectable citizens to melt like wax? megillus: i should say the latter. athenian: in what preceded, as you will remember, our cnosian friend was speaking of a man or a city being inferior to themselves:--were you not, cleinias? cleinias: i was. athenian: now, which is in the truest sense inferior, the man who is overcome by pleasure or by pain? cleinias: i should say the man who is overcome by pleasure; for all men deem him to be inferior in a more disgraceful sense, than the other who is overcome by pain. athenian: but surely the lawgivers of crete and lacedaemon have not legislated for a courage which is lame of one leg, able only to meet attacks which come from the left, but impotent against the insidious flatteries which come from the right? cleinias: able to meet both, i should say. athenian: then let me once more ask, what institutions have you in either of your states which give a taste of pleasures, and do not avoid them any more than they avoid pains; but which set a person in the midst of them, and compel or induce him by the prospect of reward to get the better of them? where is an ordinance about pleasure similar to that about pain to be found in your laws? tell me what there is of this nature among you:--what is there which makes your citizen equally brave against pleasure and pain, conquering what they ought to conquer, and superior to the enemies who are most dangerous and nearest home? megillus: i was able to tell you, stranger, many laws which were directed against pain; but i do not know that i can point out any great or obvious examples of similar institutions which are concerned with pleasure; there are some lesser provisions, however, which i might mention. cleinias: neither can i show anything of that sort which is at all equally prominent in the cretan laws. athenian: no wonder, my dear friends; and if, as is very likely, in our search after the true and good, one of us may have to censure the laws of the others, we must not be offended, but take kindly what another says. cleinias: you are quite right, athenian stranger, and we will do as you say. athenian: at our time of life, cleinias, there should be no feeling of irritation. cleinias: certainly not. athenian: i will not at present determine whether he who censures the cretan or lacedaemonian polities is right or wrong. but i believe that i can tell better than either of you what the many say about them. for assuming that you have reasonably good laws, one of the best of them will be the law forbidding any young men to enquire which of them are right or wrong; but with one mouth and one voice they must all agree that the laws are all good, for they came from god; and any one who says the contrary is not to be listened to. but an old man who remarks any defect in your laws may communicate his observation to a ruler or to an equal in years when no young man is present. cleinias: exactly so, stranger; and like a diviner, although not there at the time, you seem to me quite to have hit the meaning of the legislator, and to say what is most true. athenian: as there are no young men present, and the legislator has given old men free licence, there will be no impropriety in our discussing these very matters now that we are alone. cleinias: true. and therefore you may be as free as you like in your censure of our laws, for there is no discredit in knowing what is wrong; he who receives what is said in a generous and friendly spirit will be all the better for it. athenian: very good; however, i am not going to say anything against your laws until to the best of my ability i have examined them, but i am going to raise doubts about them. for you are the only people known to us, whether greek or barbarian, whom the legislator commanded to eschew all great pleasures and amusements and never to touch them; whereas in the matter of pains or fears which we have just been discussing, he thought that they who from infancy had always avoided pains and fears and sorrows, when they were compelled to face them would run away from those who were hardened in them, and would become their subjects. now the legislator ought to have considered that this was equally true of pleasure; he should have said to himself, that if our citizens are from their youth upward unacquainted with the greatest pleasures, and unused to endure amid the temptations of pleasure, and are not disciplined to refrain from all things evil, the sweet feeling of pleasure will overcome them just as fear would overcome the former class; and in another, and even a worse manner, they will be the slaves of those who are able to endure amid pleasures, and have had the opportunity of enjoying them, they being often the worst of mankind. one half of their souls will be a slave, the other half free; and they will not be worthy to be called in the true sense men and freemen. tell me whether you assent to my words? cleinias: on first hearing, what you say appears to be the truth; but to be hasty in coming to a conclusion about such important matters would be very childish and simple. athenian: suppose, cleinias and megillus, that we consider the virtue which follows next of those which we intended to discuss (for after courage comes temperance), what institutions shall we find relating to temperance, either in crete or lacedaemon, which, like your military institutions, differ from those of any ordinary state. megillus: that is not an easy question to answer; still i should say that the common meals and gymnastic exercises have been excellently devised for the promotion both of temperance and courage. athenian: there seems to be a difficulty, stranger, with regard to states, in making words and facts coincide so that there can be no dispute about them. as in the human body, the regimen which does good in one way does harm in another; and we can hardly say that any one course of treatment is adapted to a particular constitution. now the gymnasia and common meals do a great deal of good, and yet they are a source of evil in civil troubles; as is shown in the case of the milesian, and boeotian, and thurian youth, among whom these institutions seem always to have had a tendency to degrade the ancient and natural custom of love below the level, not only of man, but of the beasts. the charge may be fairly brought against your cities above all others, and is true also of most other states which especially cultivate gymnastics. whether such matters are to be regarded jestingly or seriously, i think that the pleasure is to be deemed natural which arises out of the intercourse between men and women; but that the intercourse of men with men, or of women with women, is contrary to nature, and that the bold attempt was originally due to unbridled lust. the cretans are always accused of having invented the story of ganymede and zeus because they wanted to justify themselves in the enjoyment of unnatural pleasures by the practice of the god whom they believe to have been their lawgiver. leaving the story, we may observe that any speculation about laws turns almost entirely on pleasure and pain, both in states and in individuals: these are two fountains which nature lets flow, and he who draws from them where and when, and as much as he ought, is happy; and this holds of men and animals--of individuals as well as states; and he who indulges in them ignorantly and at the wrong time, is the reverse of happy. megillus: i admit, stranger, that your words are well spoken, and i hardly know what to say in answer to you; but still i think that the spartan lawgiver was quite right in forbidding pleasure. of the cretan laws, i shall leave the defence to my cnosian friend. but the laws of sparta, in as far as they relate to pleasure, appear to me to be the best in the world; for that which leads mankind in general into the wildest pleasure and licence, and every other folly, the law has clean driven out; and neither in the country nor in towns which are under the control of sparta, will you find revelries and the many incitements of every kind of pleasure which accompany them; and any one who meets a drunken and disorderly person, will immediately have him most severely punished, and will not let him off on any pretence, not even at the time of a dionysiac festival; although i have remarked that this may happen at your performances 'on the cart,' as they are called; and among our tarentine colonists i have seen the whole city drunk at a dionysiac festival; but nothing of the sort happens among us. athenian: o lacedaemonian stranger, these festivities are praiseworthy where there is a spirit of endurance, but are very senseless when they are under no regulations. in order to retaliate, an athenian has only to point out the licence which exists among your women. to all such accusations, whether they are brought against the tarentines, or us, or you, there is one answer which exonerates the practice in question from impropriety. when a stranger expresses wonder at the singularity of what he sees, any inhabitant will naturally answer him:--wonder not, o stranger; this is our custom, and you may very likely have some other custom about the same things. now we are speaking, my friends, not about men in general, but about the merits and defects of the lawgivers themselves. let us then discourse a little more at length about intoxication, which is a very important subject, and will seriously task the discrimination of the legislator. i am not speaking of drinking, or not drinking, wine at all, but of intoxication. are we to follow the custom of the scythians, and persians, and carthaginians, and celts, and iberians, and thracians, who are all warlike nations, or that of your countrymen, for they, as you say, altogether abstain? but the scythians and thracians, both men and women, drink unmixed wine, which they pour on their garments, and this they think a happy and glorious institution. the persians, again, are much given to other practices of luxury which you reject, but they have more moderation in them than the thracians and scythians. megillus: o best of men, we have only to take arms into our hands, and we send all these nations flying before us. athenian: nay, my good friend, do not say that; there have been, as there always will be, flights and pursuits of which no account can be given, and therefore we cannot say that victory or defeat in battle affords more than a doubtful proof of the goodness or badness of institutions. for when the greater states conquer and enslave the lesser, as the syracusans have done the locrians, who appear to be the best-governed people in their part of the world, or as the athenians have done the ceans (and there are ten thousand other instances of the same sort of thing), all this is not to the point; let us endeavour rather to form a conclusion about each institution in itself and say nothing, at present, of victories and defeats. let us only say that such and such a custom is honourable, and another not. and first permit me to tell you how good and bad are to be estimated in reference to these very matters. megillus: how do you mean? athenian: all those who are ready at a moment's notice to praise or censure any practice which is matter of discussion, seem to me to proceed in a wrong way. let me give you an illustration of what i mean:--you may suppose a person to be praising wheat as a good kind of food, whereupon another person instantly blames wheat, without ever enquiring into its effect or use, or in what way, or to whom, or with what, or in what state and how, wheat is to be given. and that is just what we are doing in this discussion. at the very mention of the word intoxication, one side is ready with their praises and the other with their censures; which is absurd. for either side adduce their witnesses and approvers, and some of us think that we speak with authority because we have many witnesses; and others because they see those who abstain conquering in battle, and this again is disputed by us. now i cannot say that i shall be satisfied, if we go on discussing each of the remaining laws in the same way. and about this very point of intoxication i should like to speak in another way, which i hold to be the right one; for if number is to be the criterion, are there not myriads upon myriads of nations ready to dispute the point with you, who are only two cities? megillus: i shall gladly welcome any method of enquiry which is right. athenian: let me put the matter thus:--suppose a person to praise the keeping of goats, and the creatures themselves as capital things to have, and then some one who had seen goats feeding without a goatherd in cultivated spots, and doing mischief, were to censure a goat or any other animal who has no keeper, or a bad keeper, would there be any sense or justice in such censure? megillus: certainly not. athenian: does a captain require only to have nautical knowledge in order to be a good captain, whether he is sea-sick or not? what do you say? megillus: i say that he is not a good captain if, although he have nautical skill, he is liable to sea-sickness. athenian: and what would you say of the commander of an army? will he be able to command merely because he has military skill if he be a coward, who, when danger comes, is sick and drunk with fear? megillus: impossible. athenian: and what if besides being a coward he has no skill? megillus: he is a miserable fellow, not fit to be a commander of men, but only of old women. athenian: and what would you say of some one who blames or praises any sort of meeting which is intended by nature to have a ruler, and is well enough when under his presidency? the critic, however, has never seen the society meeting together at an orderly feast under the control of a president, but always without a ruler or with a bad one:--when observers of this class praise or blame such meetings, are we to suppose that what they say is of any value? megillus: certainly not, if they have never seen or been present at such a meeting when rightly ordered. athenian: reflect; may not banqueters and banquets be said to constitute a kind of meeting? megillus: of course. athenian: and did any one ever see this sort of convivial meeting rightly ordered? of course you two will answer that you have never seen them at all, because they are not customary or lawful in your country; but i have come across many of them in many different places, and moreover i have made enquiries about them wherever i went, as i may say, and never did i see or hear of anything of the kind which was carried on altogether rightly; in some few particulars they might be right, but in general they were utterly wrong. cleinias: what do you mean, stranger, by this remark? explain. for we, as you say, from our inexperience in such matters, might very likely not know, even if they came in our way, what was right or wrong in such societies. athenian: likely enough; then let me try to be your instructor: you would acknowledge, would you not, that in all gatherings of mankind, of whatever sort, there ought to be a leader? cleinias: certainly i should. athenian: and we were saying just now, that when men are at war the leader ought to be a brave man? cleinias: we were. athenian: the brave man is less likely than the coward to be disturbed by fears? cleinias: that again is true. athenian: and if there were a possibility of having a general of an army who was absolutely fearless and imperturbable, should we not by all means appoint him? cleinias: assuredly. athenian: now, however, we are speaking not of a general who is to command an army, when foe meets foe in time of war, but of one who is to regulate meetings of another sort, when friend meets friend in time of peace. cleinias: true. athenian: and that sort of meeting, if attended with drunkenness, is apt to be unquiet. cleinias: certainly; the reverse of quiet. athenian: in the first place, then, the revellers as well as the soldiers will require a ruler? cleinias: to be sure; no men more so. athenian: and we ought, if possible, to provide them with a quiet ruler? cleinias: of course. athenian: and he should be a man who understands society; for his duty is to preserve the friendly feelings which exist among the company at the time, and to increase them for the future by his use of the occasion. cleinias: very true. athenian: must we not appoint a sober man and a wise to be our master of the revels? for if the ruler of drinkers be himself young and drunken, and not over-wise, only by some special good fortune will he be saved from doing some great evil. cleinias: it will be by a singular good fortune that he is saved. athenian: now suppose such associations to be framed in the best way possible in states, and that some one blames the very fact of their existence--he may very likely be right. but if he blames a practice which he only sees very much mismanaged, he shows in the first place that he is not aware of the mismanagement, and also not aware that everything done in this way will turn out to be wrong, because done without the superintendence of a sober ruler. do you not see that a drunken pilot or a drunken ruler of any sort will ruin ship, chariot, army--anything, in short, of which he has the direction? cleinias: the last remark is very true, stranger; and i see quite clearly the advantage of an army having a good leader--he will give victory in war to his followers, which is a very great advantage; and so of other things. but i do not see any similar advantage which either individuals or states gain from the good management of a feast; and i want you to tell me what great good will be effected, supposing that this drinking ordinance is duly established. athenian: if you mean to ask what great good accrues to the state from the right training of a single youth, or of a single chorus--when the question is put in that form, we cannot deny that the good is not very great in any particular instance. but if you ask what is the good of education in general, the answer is easy--that education makes good men, and that good men act nobly, and conquer their enemies in battle, because they are good. education certainly gives victory, although victory sometimes produces forgetfulness of education; for many have grown insolent from victory in war, and this insolence has engendered in them innumerable evils; and many a victory has been and will be suicidal to the victors; but education is never suicidal. cleinias: you seem to imply, my friend, that convivial meetings, when rightly ordered, are an important element of education. athenian: certainly i do. cleinias: and can you show that what you have been saying is true? athenian: to be absolutely sure of the truth of matters concerning which there are many opinions, is an attribute of the gods not given to man, stranger; but i shall be very happy to tell you what i think, especially as we are now proposing to enter on a discussion concerning laws and constitutions. cleinias: your opinion, stranger, about the questions which are now being raised, is precisely what we want to hear. athenian: very good; i will try to find a way of explaining my meaning, and you shall try to have the gift of understanding me. but first let me make an apology. the athenian citizen is reputed among all the hellenes to be a great talker, whereas sparta is renowned for brevity, and the cretans have more wit than words. now i am afraid of appearing to elicit a very long discourse out of very small materials. for drinking indeed may appear to be a slight matter, and yet is one which cannot be rightly ordered according to nature, without correct principles of music; these are necessary to any clear or satisfactory treatment of the subject, and music again runs up into education generally, and there is much to be said about all this. what would you say then to leaving these matters for the present, and passing on to some other question of law? megillus: o athenian stranger, let me tell you what perhaps you do not know, that our family is the proxenus of your state. i imagine that from their earliest youth all boys, when they are told that they are the proxeni of a particular state, feel kindly towards their second country; and this has certainly been my own feeling. i can well remember from the days of my boyhood, how, when any lacedaemonians praised or blamed the athenians, they used to say to me,--'see, megillus, how ill or how well,' as the case might be, 'has your state treated us'; and having always had to fight your battles against detractors when i heard you assailed, i became warmly attached to you. and i always like to hear the athenian tongue spoken; the common saying is quite true, that a good athenian is more than ordinarily good, for he is the only man who is freely and genuinely good by the divine inspiration of his own nature, and is not manufactured. therefore be assured that i shall like to hear you say whatever you have to say. cleinias: yes, stranger; and when you have heard me speak, say boldly what is in your thoughts. let me remind you of a tie which unites you to crete. you must have heard here the story of the prophet epimenides, who was of my family, and came to athens ten years before the persian war, in accordance with the response of the oracle, and offered certain sacrifices which the god commanded. the athenians were at that time in dread of the persian invasion; and he said that for ten years they would not come, and that when they came, they would go away again without accomplishing any of their objects, and would suffer more evil than they inflicted. at that time my forefathers formed ties of hospitality with you; thus ancient is the friendship which i and my parents have had for you. athenian: you seem to be quite ready to listen; and i am also ready to perform as much as i can of an almost impossible task, which i will nevertheless attempt. at the outset of the discussion, let me define the nature and power of education; for this is the way by which our argument must travel onwards to the god dionysus. cleinias: let us proceed, if you please. athenian: well, then, if i tell you what are my notions of education, will you consider whether they satisfy you? cleinias: let us hear. athenian: according to my view, any one who would be good at anything must practise that thing from his youth upwards, both in sport and earnest, in its several branches: for example, he who is to be a good builder, should play at building children's houses; he who is to be a good husbandman, at tilling the ground; and those who have the care of their education should provide them when young with mimic tools. they should learn beforehand the knowledge which they will afterwards require for their art. for example, the future carpenter should learn to measure or apply the line in play; and the future warrior should learn riding, or some other exercise, for amusement, and the teacher should endeavour to direct the children's inclinations and pleasures, by the help of amusements, to their final aim in life. the most important part of education is right training in the nursery. the soul of the child in his play should be guided to the love of that sort of excellence in which when he grows up to manhood he will have to be perfected. do you agree with me thus far? cleinias: certainly. athenian: then let us not leave the meaning of education ambiguous or ill-defined. at present, when we speak in terms of praise or blame about the bringing-up of each person, we call one man educated and another uneducated, although the uneducated man may be sometimes very well educated for the calling of a retail trader, or of a captain of a ship, and the like. for we are not speaking of education in this narrower sense, but of that other education in virtue from youth upwards, which makes a man eagerly pursue the ideal perfection of citizenship, and teaches him how rightly to rule and how to obey. this is the only education which, upon our view, deserves the name; that other sort of training, which aims at the acquisition of wealth or bodily strength, or mere cleverness apart from intelligence and justice, is mean and illiberal, and is not worthy to be called education at all. but let us not quarrel with one another about a word, provided that the proposition which has just been granted hold good: to wit, that those who are rightly educated generally become good men. neither must we cast a slight upon education, which is the first and fairest thing that the best of men can ever have, and which, though liable to take a wrong direction, is capable of reformation. and this work of reformation is the great business of every man while he lives. cleinias: very true; and we entirely agree with you. athenian: and we agreed before that they are good men who are able to rule themselves, and bad men who are not. cleinias: you are quite right. athenian: let me now proceed, if i can, to clear up the subject a little further by an illustration which i will offer you. cleinias: proceed. athenian: do we not consider each of ourselves to be one? cleinias: we do. athenian: and each one of us has in his bosom two counsellors, both foolish and also antagonistic; of which we call the one pleasure, and the other pain. cleinias: exactly. athenian: also there are opinions about the future, which have the general name of expectations; and the specific name of fear, when the expectation is of pain; and of hope, when of pleasure; and further, there is reflection about the good or evil of them, and this, when embodied in a decree by the state, is called law. cleinias: i am hardly able to follow you; proceed, however, as if i were. megillus: i am in the like case. athenian: let us look at the matter thus: may we not conceive each of us living beings to be a puppet of the gods, either their plaything only, or created with a purpose--which of the two we cannot certainly know? but we do know, that these affections in us are like cords and strings, which pull us different and opposite ways, and to opposite actions; and herein lies the difference between virtue and vice. according to the argument there is one among these cords which every man ought to grasp and never let go, but to pull with it against all the rest; and this is the sacred and golden cord of reason, called by us the common law of the state; there are others which are hard and of iron, but this one is soft because golden; and there are several other kinds. now we ought always to cooperate with the lead of the best, which is law. for inasmuch as reason is beautiful and gentle, and not violent, her rule must needs have ministers in order to help the golden principle in vanquishing the other principles. and thus the moral of the tale about our being puppets will not have been lost, and the meaning of the expression 'superior or inferior to a man's self' will become clearer; and the individual, attaining to right reason in this matter of pulling the strings of the puppet, should live according to its rule; while the city, receiving the same from some god or from one who has knowledge of these things, should embody it in a law, to be her guide in her dealings with herself and with other states. in this way virtue and vice will be more clearly distinguished by us. and when they have become clearer, education and other institutions will in like manner become clearer; and in particular that question of convivial entertainment, which may seem, perhaps, to have been a very trifling matter, and to have taken a great many more words than were necessary. cleinias: perhaps, however, the theme may turn out not to be unworthy of the length of discourse. athenian: very good; let us proceed with any enquiry which really bears on our present object. cleinias: proceed. athenian: suppose that we give this puppet of ours drink,--what will be the effect on him? cleinias: having what in view do you ask that question? athenian: nothing as yet; but i ask generally, when the puppet is brought to the drink, what sort of result is likely to follow. i will endeavour to explain my meaning more clearly: what i am now asking is this--does the drinking of wine heighten and increase pleasures and pains, and passions and loves? cleinias: very greatly. athenian: and are perception and memory, and opinion and prudence, heightened and increased? do not these qualities entirely desert a man if he becomes saturated with drink? cleinias: yes, they entirely desert him. athenian: does he not return to the state of soul in which he was when a young child? cleinias: he does. athenian: then at that time he will have the least control over himself? cleinias: the least. athenian: and will he not be in a most wretched plight? cleinias: most wretched. athenian: then not only an old man but also a drunkard becomes a second time a child? cleinias: well said, stranger. athenian: is there any argument which will prove to us that we ought to encourage the taste for drinking instead of doing all we can to avoid it? cleinias: i suppose that there is; you at any rate, were just now saying that you were ready to maintain such a doctrine. athenian: true, i was; and i am ready still, seeing that you have both declared that you are anxious to hear me. cleinias: to be sure we are, if only for the strangeness of the paradox, which asserts that a man ought of his own accord to plunge into utter degradation. athenian: are you speaking of the soul? cleinias: yes. athenian: and what would you say about the body, my friend? are you not surprised at any one of his own accord bringing upon himself deformity, leanness, ugliness, decrepitude? cleinias: certainly. athenian: yet when a man goes of his own accord to a doctor's shop, and takes medicine, is he not aware that soon, and for many days afterwards, he will be in a state of body which he would die rather than accept as the permanent condition of his life? are not those who train in gymnasia, at first beginning reduced to a state of weakness? cleinias: yes, all that is well known. athenian: also that they go of their own accord for the sake of the subsequent benefit? cleinias: very good. athenian: and we may conceive this to be true in the same way of other practices? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and the same view may be taken of the pastime of drinking wine, if we are right in supposing that the same good effect follows? cleinias: to be sure. athenian: if such convivialities should turn out to have any advantage equal in importance to that of gymnastic, they are in their very nature to be preferred to mere bodily exercise, inasmuch as they have no accompaniment of pain. cleinias: true; but i hardly think that we shall be able to discover any such benefits to be derived from them. athenian: that is just what we must endeavour to show. and let me ask you a question:--do we not distinguish two kinds of fear, which are very different? cleinias: what are they? athenian: there is the fear of expected evil. cleinias: yes. athenian: and there is the fear of an evil reputation; we are afraid of being thought evil, because we do or say some dishonourable thing, which fear we and all men term shame. cleinias: certainly. athenian: these are the two fears, as i called them; one of which is the opposite of pain and other fears, and the opposite also of the greatest and most numerous sort of pleasures. cleinias: very true. athenian: and does not the legislator and every one who is good for anything, hold this fear in the greatest honour? this is what he terms reverence, and the confidence which is the reverse of this he terms insolence; and the latter he always deems to be a very great evil both to individuals and to states. cleinias: true. athenian: does not this kind of fear preserve us in many important ways? what is there which so surely gives victory and safety in war? for there are two things which give victory--confidence before enemies, and fear of disgrace before friends. cleinias: there are. athenian: then each of us should be fearless and also fearful; and why we should be either has now been determined. cleinias: certainly. athenian: and when we want to make any one fearless, we and the law bring him face to face with many fears. cleinias: clearly. athenian: and when we want to make him rightly fearful, must we not introduce him to shameless pleasures, and train him to take up arms against them, and to overcome them? or does this principle apply to courage only, and must he who would be perfect in valour fight against and overcome his own natural character,--since if he be unpractised and inexperienced in such conflicts, he will not be half the man which he might have been,--and are we to suppose, that with temperance it is otherwise, and that he who has never fought with the shameless and unrighteous temptations of his pleasures and lusts, and conquered them, in earnest and in play, by word, deed, and act, will still be perfectly temperate? cleinias: a most unlikely supposition. athenian: suppose that some god had given a fear-potion to men, and that the more a man drank of this the more he regarded himself at every draught as a child of misfortune, and that he feared everything happening or about to happen to him; and that at last the most courageous of men utterly lost his presence of mind for a time, and only came to himself again when he had slept off the influence of the draught. cleinias: but has such a draught, stranger, ever really been known among men? athenian: no; but, if there had been, might not such a draught have been of use to the legislator as a test of courage? might we not go and say to him, 'o legislator, whether you are legislating for the cretan, or for any other state, would you not like to have a touchstone of the courage and cowardice of your citizens?' cleinias: 'i should,' will be the answer of every one. athenian: 'and you would rather have a touchstone in which there is no risk and no great danger than the reverse?' cleinias: in that proposition every one may safely agree. athenian: 'and in order to make use of the draught, you would lead them amid these imaginary terrors, and prove them, when the affection of fear was working upon them, and compel them to be fearless, exhorting and admonishing them; and also honouring them, but dishonouring any one who will not be persuaded by you to be in all respects such as you command him; and if he underwent the trial well and manfully, you would let him go unscathed; but if ill, you would inflict a punishment upon him? or would you abstain from using the potion altogether, although you have no reason for abstaining?' cleinias: he would be certain, stranger, to use the potion. athenian: this would be a mode of testing and training which would be wonderfully easy in comparison with those now in use, and might be applied to a single person, or to a few, or indeed to any number; and he would do well who provided himself with the potion only, rather than with any number of other things, whether he preferred to be by himself in solitude, and there contend with his fears, because he was ashamed to be seen by the eye of man until he was perfect; or trusting to the force of his own nature and habits, and believing that he had been already disciplined sufficiently, he did not hesitate to train himself in company with any number of others, and display his power in conquering the irresistible change effected by the draught--his virtue being such, that he never in any instance fell into any great unseemliness, but was always himself, and left off before he arrived at the last cup, fearing that he, like all other men, might be overcome by the potion. cleinias: yes, stranger, in that last case, too, he might equally show his self-control. athenian: let us return to the lawgiver, and say to him:--'well, lawgiver, there is certainly no such fear-potion which man has either received from the gods or himself discovered; for witchcraft has no place at our board. but is there any potion which might serve as a test of overboldness and excessive and indiscreet boasting? cleinias: i suppose that he will say, yes,--meaning that wine is such a potion. athenian: is not the effect of this quite the opposite of the effect of the other? when a man drinks wine he begins to be better pleased with himself, and the more he drinks the more he is filled full of brave hopes, and conceit of his power, and at last the string of his tongue is loosened, and fancying himself wise, he is brimming over with lawlessness, and has no more fear or respect, and is ready to do or say anything. cleinias: i think that every one will admit the truth of your description. megillus: certainly. athenian: now, let us remember, as we were saying, that there are two things which should be cultivated in the soul: first, the greatest courage; secondly, the greatest fear-- cleinias: which you said to be characteristic of reverence, if i am not mistaken. athenian: thank you for reminding me. but now, as the habit of courage and fearlessness is to be trained amid fears, let us consider whether the opposite quality is not also to be trained among opposites. cleinias: that is probably the case. athenian: there are times and seasons at which we are by nature more than commonly valiant and bold; now we ought to train ourselves on these occasions to be as free from impudence and shamelessness as possible, and to be afraid to say or suffer or do anything that is base. cleinias: true. athenian: are not the moments in which we are apt to be bold and shameless such as these?--when we are under the influence of anger, love, pride, ignorance, avarice, cowardice? or when wealth, beauty, strength, and all the intoxicating workings of pleasure madden us? what is better adapted than the festive use of wine, in the first place to test, and in the second place to train the character of a man, if care be taken in the use of it? what is there cheaper, or more innocent? for do but consider which is the greater risk:--would you rather test a man of a morose and savage nature, which is the source of ten thousand acts of injustice, by making bargains with him at a risk to yourself, or by having him as a companion at the festival of dionysus? or would you, if you wanted to apply a touchstone to a man who is prone to love, entrust your wife, or your sons, or daughters to him, perilling your dearest interests in order to have a view of the condition of his soul? i might mention numberless cases, in which the advantage would be manifest of getting to know a character in sport, and without paying dearly for experience. and i do not believe that either a cretan, or any other man, will doubt that such a test is a fair test, and safer, cheaper, and speedier than any other. cleinias: that is certainly true. athenian: and this knowledge of the natures and habits of men's souls will be of the greatest use in that art which has the management of them; and that art, if i am not mistaken, is politics. cleinias: exactly so. book ii. athenian: and now we have to consider whether the insight into human nature is the only benefit derived from well-ordered potations, or whether there are not other advantages great and much to be desired. the argument seems to imply that there are. but how and in what way these are to be attained, will have to be considered attentively, or we may be entangled in error. cleinias: proceed. athenian: let me once more recall our doctrine of right education; which, if i am not mistaken, depends on the due regulation of convivial intercourse. cleinias: you talk rather grandly. athenian: pleasure and pain i maintain to be the first perceptions of children, and i say that they are the forms under which virtue and vice are originally present to them. as to wisdom and true and fixed opinions, happy is the man who acquires them, even when declining in years; and we may say that he who possesses them, and the blessings which are contained in them, is a perfect man. now i mean by education that training which is given by suitable habits to the first instincts of virtue in children;--when pleasure, and friendship, and pain, and hatred, are rightly implanted in souls not yet capable of understanding the nature of them, and who find them, after they have attained reason, to be in harmony with her. this harmony of the soul, taken as a whole, is virtue; but the particular training in respect of pleasure and pain, which leads you always to hate what you ought to hate, and love what you ought to love from the beginning of life to the end, may be separated off; and, in my view, will be rightly called education. cleinias: i think, stranger, that you are quite right in all that you have said and are saying about education. athenian: i am glad to hear that you agree with me; for, indeed, the discipline of pleasure and pain which, when rightly ordered, is a principle of education, has been often relaxed and corrupted in human life. and the gods, pitying the toils which our race is born to undergo, have appointed holy festivals, wherein men alternate rest with labour; and have given them the muses and apollo, the leader of the muses, and dionysus, to be companions in their revels, that they may improve their education by taking part in the festivals of the gods, and with their help. i should like to know whether a common saying is in our opinion true to nature or not. for men say that the young of all creatures cannot be quiet in their bodies or in their voices; they are always wanting to move and cry out; some leaping and skipping, and overflowing with sportiveness and delight at something, others uttering all sorts of cries. but, whereas the animals have no perception of order or disorder in their movements, that is, of rhythm or harmony, as they are called, to us, the gods, who, as we say, have been appointed to be our companions in the dance, have given the pleasurable sense of harmony and rhythm; and so they stir us into life, and we follow them, joining hands together in dances and songs; and these they call choruses, which is a term naturally expressive of cheerfulness. shall we begin, then, with the acknowledgment that education is first given through apollo and the muses? what do you say? cleinias: i assent. athenian: and the uneducated is he who has not been trained in the chorus, and the educated is he who has been well trained? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and the chorus is made up of two parts, dance and song? cleinias: true. athenian: then he who is well educated will be able to sing and dance well? cleinias: i suppose that he will. athenian: let us see; what are we saying? cleinias: what? athenian: he sings well and dances well; now must we add that he sings what is good and dances what is good? cleinias: let us make the addition. athenian: we will suppose that he knows the good to be good, and the bad to be bad, and makes use of them accordingly: which now is the better trained in dancing and music--he who is able to move his body and to use his voice in what is understood to be the right manner, but has no delight in good or hatred of evil; or he who is incorrect in gesture and voice, but is right in his sense of pleasure and pain, and welcomes what is good, and is offended at what is evil? cleinias: there is a great difference, stranger, in the two kinds of education. athenian: if we three know what is good in song and dance, then we truly know also who is educated and who is uneducated; but if not, then we certainly shall not know wherein lies the safeguard of education, and whether there is any or not. cleinias: true. athenian: let us follow the scent like hounds, and go in pursuit of beauty of figure, and melody, and song, and dance; if these escape us, there will be no use in talking about true education, whether hellenic or barbarian. cleinias: yes. athenian: and what is beauty of figure, or beautiful melody? when a manly soul is in trouble, and when a cowardly soul is in similar case, are they likely to use the same figures and gestures, or to give utterance to the same sounds? cleinias: how can they, when the very colours of their faces differ? athenian: good, my friend; i may observe, however, in passing, that in music there certainly are figures and there are melodies: and music is concerned with harmony and rhythm, so that you may speak of a melody or figure having good rhythm or good harmony--the term is correct enough; but to speak metaphorically of a melody or figure having a 'good colour,' as the masters of choruses do, is not allowable, although you can speak of the melodies or figures of the brave and the coward, praising the one and censuring the other. and not to be tedious, let us say that the figures and melodies which are expressive of virtue of soul or body, or of images of virtue, are without exception good, and those which are expressive of vice are the reverse of good. cleinias: your suggestion is excellent; and let us answer that these things are so. athenian: once more, are all of us equally delighted with every sort of dance? cleinias: far otherwise. athenian: what, then, leads us astray? are beautiful things not the same to us all, or are they the same in themselves, but not in our opinion of them? for no one will admit that forms of vice in the dance are more beautiful than forms of virtue, or that he himself delights in the forms of vice, and others in a muse of another character. and yet most persons say, that the excellence of music is to give pleasure to our souls. but this is intolerable and blasphemous; there is, however, a much more plausible account of the delusion. cleinias: what? athenian: the adaptation of art to the characters of men. choric movements are imitations of manners occurring in various actions, fortunes, dispositions,--each particular is imitated, and those to whom the words, or songs, or dances are suited, either by nature or habit or both, cannot help feeling pleasure in them and applauding them, and calling them beautiful. but those whose natures, or ways, or habits are unsuited to them, cannot delight in them or applaud them, and they call them base. there are others, again, whose natures are right and their habits wrong, or whose habits are right and their natures wrong, and they praise one thing, but are pleased at another. for they say that all these imitations are pleasant, but not good. and in the presence of those whom they think wise, they are ashamed of dancing and singing in the baser manner, or of deliberately lending any countenance to such proceedings; and yet, they have a secret pleasure in them. cleinias: very true. athenian: and is any harm done to the lover of vicious dances or songs, or any good done to the approver of the opposite sort of pleasure? cleinias: i think that there is. athenian: 'i think' is not the word, but i would say, rather, 'i am certain.' for must they not have the same effect as when a man associates with bad characters, whom he likes and approves rather than dislikes, and only censures playfully because he has a suspicion of his own badness? in that case, he who takes pleasure in them will surely become like those in whom he takes pleasure, even though he be ashamed to praise them. and what greater good or evil can any destiny ever make us undergo? cleinias: i know of none. athenian: then in a city which has good laws, or in future ages is to have them, bearing in mind the instruction and amusement which are given by music, can we suppose that the poets are to be allowed to teach in the dance anything which they themselves like, in the way of rhythm, or melody, or words, to the young children of any well-conditioned parents? is the poet to train his choruses as he pleases, without reference to virtue or vice? cleinias: that is surely quite unreasonable, and is not to be thought of. athenian: and yet he may do this in almost any state with the exception of egypt. cleinias: and what are the laws about music and dancing in egypt? athenian: you will wonder when i tell you: long ago they appear to have recognized the very principle of which we are now speaking--that their young citizens must be habituated to forms and strains of virtue. these they fixed, and exhibited the patterns of them in their temples; and no painter or artist is allowed to innovate upon them, or to leave the traditional forms and invent new ones. to this day, no alteration is allowed either in these arts, or in music at all. and you will find that their works of art are painted or moulded in the same forms which they had ten thousand years ago;--this is literally true and no exaggeration,--their ancient paintings and sculptures are not a whit better or worse than the work of to-day, but are made with just the same skill. cleinias: how extraordinary! athenian: i should rather say, how statesmanlike, how worthy of a legislator! i know that other things in egypt are not so well. but what i am telling you about music is true and deserving of consideration, because showing that a lawgiver may institute melodies which have a natural truth and correctness without any fear of failure. to do this, however, must be the work of god, or of a divine person; in egypt they have a tradition that their ancient chants which have been preserved for so many ages are the composition of the goddess isis. and therefore, as i was saying, if a person can only find in any way the natural melodies, he may confidently embody them in a fixed and legal form. for the love of novelty which arises out of pleasure in the new and weariness of the old, has not strength enough to corrupt the consecrated song and dance, under the plea that they have become antiquated. at any rate, they are far from being corrupted in egypt. cleinias: your arguments seem to prove your point. athenian: may we not confidently say that the true use of music and of choral festivities is as follows: we rejoice when we think that we prosper, and again we think that we prosper when we rejoice? cleinias: exactly. athenian: and when rejoicing in our good fortune, we are unable to be still? cleinias: true. athenian: our young men break forth into dancing and singing, and we who are their elders deem that we are fulfilling our part in life when we look on at them. having lost our agility, we delight in their sports and merry-making, because we love to think of our former selves; and gladly institute contests for those who are able to awaken in us the memory of our youth. cleinias: very true. athenian: is it altogether unmeaning to say, as the common people do about festivals, that he should be adjudged the wisest of men, and the winner of the palm, who gives us the greatest amount of pleasure and mirth? for on such occasions, and when mirth is the order of the day, ought not he to be honoured most, and, as i was saying, bear the palm, who gives most mirth to the greatest number? now is this a true way of speaking or of acting? cleinias: possibly. athenian: but, my dear friend, let us distinguish between different cases, and not be hasty in forming a judgment: one way of considering the question will be to imagine a festival at which there are entertainments of all sorts, including gymnastic, musical, and equestrian contests: the citizens are assembled; prizes are offered, and proclamation is made that any one who likes may enter the lists, and that he is to bear the palm who gives the most pleasure to the spectators--there is to be no regulation about the manner how; but he who is most successful in giving pleasure is to be crowned victor, and deemed to be the pleasantest of the candidates: what is likely to be the result of such a proclamation? cleinias: in what respect? athenian: there would be various exhibitions: one man, like homer, will exhibit a rhapsody, another a performance on the lute; one will have a tragedy, and another a comedy. nor would there be anything astonishing in some one imagining that he could gain the prize by exhibiting a puppet-show. suppose these competitors to meet, and not these only, but innumerable others as well--can you tell me who ought to be the victor? cleinias: i do not see how any one can answer you, or pretend to know, unless he has heard with his own ears the several competitors; the question is absurd. athenian: well, then, if neither of you can answer, shall i answer this question which you deem so absurd? cleinias: by all means. athenian: if very small children are to determine the question, they will decide for the puppet show. cleinias: of course. athenian: the older children will be advocates of comedy; educated women, and young men, and people in general, will favour tragedy. cleinias: very likely. athenian: and i believe that we old men would have the greatest pleasure in hearing a rhapsodist recite well the iliad and odyssey, or one of the hesiodic poems, and would award the victory to him. but, who would really be the victor?--that is the question. cleinias: yes. athenian: clearly you and i will have to declare that those whom we old men adjudge victors ought to win; for our ways are far and away better than any which at present exist anywhere in the world. cleinias: certainly. athenian: thus far i too should agree with the many, that the excellence of music is to be measured by pleasure. but the pleasure must not be that of chance persons; the fairest music is that which delights the best and best educated, and especially that which delights the one man who is pre-eminent in virtue and education. and therefore the judges must be men of character, for they will require both wisdom and courage; the true judge must not draw his inspiration from the theatre, nor ought he to be unnerved by the clamour of the many and his own incapacity; nor again, knowing the truth, ought he through cowardice and unmanliness carelessly to deliver a lying judgment, with the very same lips which have just appealed to the gods before he judged. he is sitting not as the disciple of the theatre, but, in his proper place, as their instructor, and he ought to be the enemy of all pandering to the pleasure of the spectators. the ancient and common custom of hellas, which still prevails in italy and sicily, did certainly leave the judgment to the body of spectators, who determined the victor by show of hands. but this custom has been the destruction of the poets; for they are now in the habit of composing with a view to please the bad taste of their judges, and the result is that the spectators instruct themselves;--and also it has been the ruin of the theatre; they ought to be having characters put before them better than their own, and so receiving a higher pleasure, but now by their own act the opposite result follows. what inference is to be drawn from all this? shall i tell you? cleinias: what? athenian: the inference at which we arrive for the third or fourth time is, that education is the constraining and directing of youth towards that right reason, which the law affirms, and which the experience of the eldest and best has agreed to be truly right. in order, then, that the soul of the child may not be habituated to feel joy and sorrow in a manner at variance with the law, and those who obey the law, but may rather follow the law and rejoice and sorrow at the same things as the aged--in order, i say, to produce this effect, chants appear to have been invented, which really enchant, and are designed to implant that harmony of which we speak. and, because the mind of the child is incapable of enduring serious training, they are called plays and songs, and are performed in play; just as when men are sick and ailing in their bodies, their attendants give them wholesome diet in pleasant meats and drinks, but unwholesome diet in disagreeable things, in order that they may learn, as they ought, to like the one, and to dislike the other. and similarly the true legislator will persuade, and, if he cannot persuade, will compel the poet to express, as he ought, by fair and noble words, in his rhythms, the figures, and in his melodies, the music of temperate and brave and in every way good men. cleinias: but do you really imagine, stranger, that this is the way in which poets generally compose in states at the present day? as far as i can observe, except among us and among the lacedaemonians, there are no regulations like those of which you speak; in other places novelties are always being introduced in dancing and in music, generally not under the authority of any law, but at the instigation of lawless pleasures; and these pleasures are so far from being the same, as you describe the egyptian to be, or having the same principles, that they are never the same. athenian: most true, cleinias; and i daresay that i may have expressed myself obscurely, and so led you to imagine that i was speaking of some really existing state of things, whereas i was only saying what regulations i would like to have about music; and hence there occurred a misapprehension on your part. for when evils are far gone and irremediable, the task of censuring them is never pleasant, although at times necessary. but as we do not really differ, will you let me ask you whether you consider such institutions to be more prevalent among the cretans and lacedaemonians than among the other hellenes? cleinias: certainly they are. athenian: and if they were extended to the other hellenes, would it be an improvement on the present state of things? cleinias: a very great improvement, if the customs which prevail among them were such as prevail among us and the lacedaemonians, and such as you were just now saying ought to prevail. athenian: let us see whether we understand one another:--are not the principles of education and music which prevail among you as follows: you compel your poets to say that the good man, if he be temperate and just, is fortunate and happy; and this whether he be great and strong or small and weak, and whether he be rich or poor; and, on the other hand, if he have a wealth passing that of cinyras or midas, and be unjust, he is wretched and lives in misery? as the poet says, and with truth: i sing not, i care not about him who accomplishes all noble things, not having justice; let him who 'draws near and stretches out his hand against his enemies be a just man.' but if he be unjust, i would not have him 'look calmly upon bloody death,' nor 'surpass in swiftness the thracian boreas;' and let no other thing that is called good ever be his. for the goods of which the many speak are not really good: first in the catalogue is placed health, beauty next, wealth third; and then innumerable others, as for example to have a keen eye or a quick ear, and in general to have all the senses perfect; or, again, to be a tyrant and do as you like; and the final consummation of happiness is to have acquired all these things, and when you have acquired them to become at once immortal. but you and i say, that while to the just and holy all these things are the best of possessions, to the unjust they are all, including even health, the greatest of evils. for in truth, to have sight, and hearing, and the use of the senses, or to live at all without justice and virtue, even though a man be rich in all the so-called goods of fortune, is the greatest of evils, if life be immortal; but not so great, if the bad man lives only a very short time. these are the truths which, if i am not mistaken, you will persuade or compel your poets to utter with suitable accompaniments of harmony and rhythm, and in these they must train up your youth. am i not right? for i plainly declare that evils as they are termed are goods to the unjust, and only evils to the just, and that goods are truly good to the good, but evil to the evil. let me ask again, are you and i agreed about this? cleinias: i think that we partly agree and partly do not. athenian: when a man has health and wealth and a tyranny which lasts, and when he is pre-eminent in strength and courage, and has the gift of immortality, and none of the so-called evils which counter-balance these goods, but only the injustice and insolence of his own nature--of such an one you are, i suspect, unwilling to believe that he is miserable rather than happy. cleinias: that is quite true. athenian: once more: suppose that he be valiant and strong, and handsome and rich, and does throughout his whole life whatever he likes, still, if he be unrighteous and insolent, would not both of you agree that he will of necessity live basely? you will surely grant so much? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and an evil life too? cleinias: i am not equally disposed to grant that. athenian: will he not live painfully and to his own disadvantage? cleinias: how can i possibly say so? athenian: how! then may heaven make us to be of one mind, for now we are of two. to me, dear cleinias, the truth of what i am saying is as plain as the fact that crete is an island. and, if i were a lawgiver, i would try to make the poets and all the citizens speak in this strain, and i would inflict the heaviest penalties on any one in all the land who should dare to say that there are bad men who lead pleasant lives, or that the profitable and gainful is one thing, and the just another; and there are many other matters about which i should make my citizens speak in a manner different from the cretans and lacedaemonians of this age, and i may say, indeed, from the world in general. for tell me, my good friends, by zeus and apollo tell me, if i were to ask these same gods who were your legislators,--is not the most just life also the pleasantest? or are there two lives, one of which is the justest and the other the pleasantest?--and they were to reply that there are two; and thereupon i proceeded to ask, (that would be the right way of pursuing the enquiry), which are the happier--those who lead the justest, or those who lead the pleasantest life? and they replied, those who lead the pleasantest--that would be a very strange answer, which i should not like to put into the mouth of the gods. the words will come with more propriety from the lips of fathers and legislators, and therefore i will repeat my former questions to one of them, and suppose him to say again that he who leads the pleasantest life is the happiest. and to that i rejoin:--o my father, did you not wish me to live as happily as possible? and yet you also never ceased telling me that i should live as justly as possible. now, here the giver of the rule, whether he be legislator or father, will be in a dilemma, and will in vain endeavour to be consistent with himself. but if he were to declare that the justest life is also the happiest, every one hearing him would enquire, if i am not mistaken, what is that good and noble principle in life which the law approves, and which is superior to pleasure. for what good can the just man have which is separated from pleasure? shall we say that glory and fame, coming from gods and men, though good and noble, are nevertheless unpleasant, and infamy pleasant? certainly not, sweet legislator. or shall we say that the not-doing of wrong and there being no wrong done is good and honourable, although there is no pleasure in it, and that the doing wrong is pleasant, but evil and base? cleinias: impossible. athenian: the view which identifies the pleasant and the pleasant and the just and the good and the noble has an excellent moral and religious tendency. and the opposite view is most at variance with the designs of the legislator, and is, in his opinion, infamous; for no one, if he can help, will be persuaded to do that which gives him more pain than pleasure. but as distant prospects are apt to make us dizzy, especially in childhood, the legislator will try to purge away the darkness and exhibit the truth; he will persuade the citizens, in some way or other, by customs and praises and words, that just and unjust are shadows only, and that injustice, which seems opposed to justice, when contemplated by the unjust and evil man appears pleasant and the just most unpleasant; but that from the just man's point of view, the very opposite is the appearance of both of them. cleinias: true. athenian: and which may be supposed to be the truer judgment--that of the inferior or of the better soul? cleinias: surely, that of the better soul. athenian: then the unjust life must not only be more base and depraved, but also more unpleasant than the just and holy life? cleinias: that seems to be implied in the present argument. athenian: and even supposing this were otherwise, and not as the argument has proven, still the lawgiver, who is worth anything, if he ever ventures to tell a lie to the young for their good, could not invent a more useful lie than this, or one which will have a better effect in making them do what is right, not on compulsion but voluntarily. cleinias: truth, stranger, is a noble thing and a lasting, but a thing of which men are hard to be persuaded. athenian: and yet the story of the sidonian cadmus, which is so improbable, has been readily believed, and also innumerable other tales. cleinias: what is that story? athenian: the story of armed men springing up after the sowing of teeth, which the legislator may take as a proof that he can persuade the minds of the young of anything; so that he has only to reflect and find out what belief will be of the greatest public advantage, and then use all his efforts to make the whole community utter one and the same word in their songs and tales and discourses all their life long. but if you do not agree with me, there is no reason why you should not argue on the other side. cleinias: i do not see that any argument can fairly be raised by either of us against what you are now saying. athenian: the next suggestion which i have to offer is, that all our three choruses shall sing to the young and tender souls of children, reciting in their strains all the noble thoughts of which we have already spoken, or are about to speak; and the sum of them shall be, that the life which is by the gods deemed to be the happiest is also the best;--we shall affirm this to be a most certain truth; and the minds of our young disciples will be more likely to receive these words of ours than any others which we might address to them. cleinias: i assent to what you say. athenian: first will enter in their natural order the sacred choir composed of children, which is to sing lustily the heaven-taught lay to the whole city. next will follow the choir of young men under the age of thirty, who will call upon the god paean to testify to the truth of their words, and will pray him to be gracious to the youth and to turn their hearts. thirdly, the choir of elder men, who are from thirty to sixty years of age, will also sing. there remain those who are too old to sing, and they will tell stories, illustrating the same virtues, as with the voice of an oracle. cleinias: who are those who compose the third choir, stranger? for i do not clearly understand what you mean to say about them. athenian: and yet almost all that i have been saying has been said with a view to them. cleinias: will you try to be a little plainer? athenian: i was speaking at the commencement of our discourse, as you will remember, of the fiery nature of young creatures: i said that they were unable to keep quiet either in limb or voice, and that they called out and jumped about in a disorderly manner; and that no other animal attained to any perception of order, but man only. now the order of motion is called rhythm, and the order of the voice, in which high and low are duly mingled, is called harmony; and both together are termed choric song. and i said that the gods had pity on us, and gave us apollo and the muses to be our playfellows and leaders in the dance; and dionysus, as i dare say that you will remember, was the third. cleinias: i quite remember. athenian: thus far i have spoken of the chorus of apollo and the muses, and i have still to speak of the remaining chorus, which is that of dionysus. cleinias: how is that arranged? there is something strange, at any rate on first hearing, in a dionysiac chorus of old men, if you really mean that those who are above thirty, and may be fifty, or from fifty to sixty years of age, are to dance in his honour. athenian: very true; and therefore it must be shown that there is good reason for the proposal. cleinias: certainly. athenian: are we agreed thus far? cleinias: about what? athenian: that every man and boy, slave and free, both sexes, and the whole city, should never cease charming themselves with the strains of which we have spoken; and that there should be every sort of change and variation of them in order to take away the effect of sameness, so that the singers may always receive pleasure from their hymns, and may never weary of them? cleinias: every one will agree. athenian: where, then, will that best part of our city which, by reason of age and intelligence, has the greatest influence, sing these fairest of strains, which are to do so much good? shall we be so foolish as to let them off who would give us the most beautiful and also the most useful of songs? cleinias: but, says the argument, we cannot let them off. athenian: then how can we carry out our purpose with decorum? will this be the way? cleinias: what? athenian: when a man is advancing in years, he is afraid and reluctant to sing;--he has no pleasure in his own performances; and if compulsion is used, he will be more and more ashamed, the older and more discreet he grows;--is not this true? cleinias: certainly. athenian: well, and will he not be yet more ashamed if he has to stand up and sing in the theatre to a mixed audience?--and if moreover when he is required to do so, like the other choirs who contend for prizes, and have been trained under a singing master, he is pinched and hungry, he will certainly have a feeling of shame and discomfort which will make him very unwilling to exhibit. cleinias: no doubt. athenian: how, then, shall we reassure him, and get him to sing? shall we begin by enacting that boys shall not taste wine at all until they are eighteen years of age; we will tell them that fire must not be poured upon fire, whether in the body or in the soul, until they begin to go to work--this is a precaution which has to be taken against the excitableness of youth;--afterwards they may taste wine in moderation up to the age of thirty, but while a man is young he should abstain altogether from intoxication and from excess of wine; when, at length, he has reached forty years, after dinner at a public mess, he may invite not only the other gods, but dionysus above all, to the mystery and festivity of the elder men, making use of the wine which he has given men to lighten the sourness of old age; that in age we may renew our youth, and forget our sorrows; and also in order that the nature of the soul, like iron melted in the fire, may become softer and so more impressible. in the first place, will not any one who is thus mellowed be more ready and less ashamed to sing--i do not say before a large audience, but before a moderate company; nor yet among strangers, but among his familiars, and, as we have often said, to chant, and to enchant? cleinias: he will be far more ready. athenian: there will be no impropriety in our using such a method of persuading them to join with us in song. cleinias: none at all. athenian: and what strain will they sing, and what muse will they hymn? the strain should clearly be one suitable to them. cleinias: certainly. athenian: and what strain is suitable for heroes? shall they sing a choric strain? cleinias: truly, stranger, we of crete and lacedaemon know no strain other than that which we have learnt and been accustomed to sing in our chorus. athenian: i dare say; for you have never acquired the knowledge of the most beautiful kind of song, in your military way of life, which is modelled after the camp, and is not like that of dwellers in cities; and you have your young men herding and feeding together like young colts. no one takes his own individual colt and drags him away from his fellows against his will, raging and foaming, and gives him a groom to attend to him alone, and trains and rubs him down privately, and gives him the qualities in education which will make him not only a good soldier, but also a governor of a state and of cities. such an one, as we said at first, would be a greater warrior than he of whom tyrtaeus sings; and he would honour courage everywhere, but always as the fourth, and not as the first part of virtue, either in individuals or states. cleinias: once more, stranger, i must complain that you depreciate our lawgivers. athenian: not intentionally, if at all, my good friend; but whither the argument leads, thither let us follow; for if there be indeed some strain of song more beautiful than that of the choruses or the public theatres, i should like to impart it to those who, as we say, are ashamed of these, and want to have the best. cleinias: certainly. athenian: when things have an accompanying charm, either the best thing in them is this very charm, or there is some rightness or utility possessed by them;--for example, i should say that eating and drinking, and the use of food in general, have an accompanying charm which we call pleasure; but that this rightness and utility is just the healthfulness of the things served up to us, which is their true rightness. cleinias: just so. athenian: thus, too, i should say that learning has a certain accompanying charm which is the pleasure; but that the right and the profitable, the good and the noble, are qualities which the truth gives to it. cleinias: exactly. athenian: and so in the imitative arts--if they succeed in making likenesses, and are accompanied by pleasure, may not their works be said to have a charm? cleinias: yes. athenian: but equal proportions, whether of quality or quantity, and not pleasure, speaking generally, would give them truth or rightness. cleinias: yes. athenian: then that only can be rightly judged by the standard of pleasure, which makes or furnishes no utility or truth or likeness, nor on the other hand is productive of any hurtful quality, but exists solely for the sake of the accompanying charm; and the term 'pleasure' is most appropriately applied to it when these other qualities are absent. cleinias: you are speaking of harmless pleasure, are you not? athenian: yes; and this i term amusement, when doing neither harm nor good in any degree worth speaking of. cleinias: very true. athenian: then, if such be our principles, we must assert that imitation is not to be judged of by pleasure and false opinion; and this is true of all equality, for the equal is not equal or the symmetrical symmetrical, because somebody thinks or likes something, but they are to be judged of by the standard of truth, and by no other whatever. cleinias: quite true. athenian: do we not regard all music as representative and imitative? cleinias: certainly. athenian: then, when any one says that music is to be judged of by pleasure, his doctrine cannot be admitted; and if there be any music of which pleasure is the criterion, such music is not to be sought out or deemed to have any real excellence, but only that other kind of music which is an imitation of the good. cleinias: very true. athenian: and those who seek for the best kind of song and music ought not to seek for that which is pleasant, but for that which is true; and the truth of imitation consists, as we were saying, in rendering the thing imitated according to quantity and quality. cleinias: certainly. athenian: and every one will admit that musical compositions are all imitative and representative. will not poets and spectators and actors all agree in this? cleinias: they will. athenian: surely then he who would judge correctly must know what each composition is; for if he does not know what is the character and meaning of the piece, and what it represents, he will never discern whether the intention is true or false. cleinias: certainly not. athenian: and will he who does not know what is true be able to distinguish what is good and bad? my statement is not very clear; but perhaps you will understand me better if i put the matter in another way. cleinias: how? athenian: there are ten thousand likenesses of objects of sight? cleinias: yes. athenian: and can he who does not know what the exact object is which is imitated, ever know whether the resemblance is truthfully executed? i mean, for example, whether a statue has the proportions of a body, and the true situation of the parts; what those proportions are, and how the parts fit into one another in due order; also their colours and conformations, or whether this is all confused in the execution: do you think that any one can know about this, who does not know what the animal is which has been imitated? cleinias: impossible. athenian: but even if we know that the thing pictured or sculptured is a man, who has received at the hand of the artist all his proper parts and colours and shapes, must we not also know whether the work is beautiful or in any respect deficient in beauty? cleinias: if this were not required, stranger, we should all of us be judges of beauty. athenian: very true; and may we not say that in everything imitated, whether in drawing, music, or any other art, he who is to be a competent judge must possess three things;--he must know, in the first place, of what the imitation is; secondly, he must know that it is true; and thirdly, that it has been well executed in words and melodies and rhythms? cleinias: certainly. athenian: then let us not faint in discussing the peculiar difficulty of music. music is more celebrated than any other kind of imitation, and therefore requires the greatest care of them all. for if a man makes a mistake here, he may do himself the greatest injury by welcoming evil dispositions, and the mistake may be very difficult to discern, because the poets are artists very inferior in character to the muses themselves, who would never fall into the monstrous error of assigning to the words of men the gestures and songs of women; nor after combining the melodies with the gestures of freemen would they add on the rhythms of slaves and men of the baser sort; nor, beginning with the rhythms and gestures of freemen, would they assign to them a melody or words which are of an opposite character; nor would they mix up the voices and sounds of animals and of men and instruments, and every other sort of noise, as if they were all one. but human poets are fond of introducing this sort of inconsistent mixture, and so make themselves ridiculous in the eyes of those who, as orpheus says, 'are ripe for true pleasure.' the experienced see all this confusion, and yet the poets go on and make still further havoc by separating the rhythm and the figure of the dance from the melody, setting bare words to metre, and also separating the melody and the rhythm from the words, using the lyre or the flute alone. for when there are no words, it is very difficult to recognize the meaning of the harmony and rhythm, or to see that any worthy object is imitated by them. and we must acknowledge that all this sort of thing, which aims only at swiftness and smoothness and a brutish noise, and uses the flute and the lyre not as the mere accompaniments of the dance and song, is exceedingly coarse and tasteless. the use of either instrument, when unaccompanied, leads to every sort of irregularity and trickery. this is all rational enough. but we are considering not how our choristers, who are from thirty to fifty years of age, and may be over fifty, are not to use the muses, but how they are to use them. and the considerations which we have urged seem to show in what way these fifty years' old choristers who are to sing, may be expected to be better trained. for they need to have a quick perception and knowledge of harmonies and rhythms; otherwise, how can they ever know whether a melody would be rightly sung to the dorian mode, or to the rhythm which the poet has assigned to it? cleinias: clearly they cannot. athenian: the many are ridiculous in imagining that they know what is in proper harmony and rhythm, and what is not, when they can only be made to sing and step in rhythm by force; it never occurs to them that they are ignorant of what they are doing. now every melody is right when it has suitable harmony and rhythm, and wrong when unsuitable. cleinias: that is most certain. athenian: but can a man who does not know a thing, as we were saying, know that the thing is right? cleinias: impossible. athenian: then now, as would appear, we are making the discovery that our newly-appointed choristers, whom we hereby invite and, although they are their own masters, compel to sing, must be educated to such an extent as to be able to follow the steps of the rhythm and the notes of the song, that they may know the harmonies and rhythms, and be able to select what are suitable for men of their age and character to sing; and may sing them, and have innocent pleasure from their own performance, and also lead younger men to welcome with dutiful delight good dispositions. having such training, they will attain a more accurate knowledge than falls to the lot of the common people, or even of the poets themselves. for the poet need not know the third point, viz., whether the imitation is good or not, though he can hardly help knowing the laws of melody and rhythm. but the aged chorus must know all the three, that they may choose the best, and that which is nearest to the best; for otherwise they will never be able to charm the souls of young men in the way of virtue. and now the original design of the argument which was intended to bring eloquent aid to the chorus of dionysus, has been accomplished to the best of our ability, and let us see whether we were right:--i should imagine that a drinking assembly is likely to become more and more tumultuous as the drinking goes on: this, as we were saying at first, will certainly be the case. cleinias: certainly. athenian: every man has a more than natural elevation; his heart is glad within him, and he will say anything and will be restrained by nobody at such a time; he fancies that he is able to rule over himself and all mankind. cleinias: quite true. athenian: were we not saying that on such occasions the souls of the drinkers become like iron heated in the fire, and grow softer and younger, and are easily moulded by him who knows how to educate and fashion them, just as when they were young, and that this fashioner of them is the same who prescribed for them in the days of their youth, viz., the good legislator; and that he ought to enact laws of the banquet, which, when a man is confident, bold, and impudent, and unwilling to wait his turn and have his share of silence and speech, and drinking and music, will change his character into the opposite--such laws as will infuse into him a just and noble fear, which will take up arms at the approach of insolence, being that divine fear which we have called reverence and shame? cleinias: true. athenian: and the guardians of these laws and fellow-workers with them are the calm and sober generals of the drinkers; and without their help there is greater difficulty in fighting against drink than in fighting against enemies when the commander of an army is not himself calm; and he who is unwilling to obey them and the commanders of dionysiac feasts who are more than sixty years of age, shall suffer a disgrace as great as he who disobeys military leaders, or even greater. cleinias: right. athenian: if, then, drinking and amusement were regulated in this way, would not the companions of our revels be improved? they would part better friends than they were, and not, as now, enemies. their whole intercourse would be regulated by law and observant of it, and the sober would be the leaders of the drunken. cleinias: i think so too, if drinking were regulated as you propose. athenian: let us not then simply censure the gift of dionysus as bad and unfit to be received into the state. for wine has many excellences, and one pre-eminent one, about which there is a difficulty in speaking to the many, from a fear of their misconceiving and misunderstanding what is said. cleinias: to what do you refer? athenian: there is a tradition or story, which has somehow crept about the world, that dionysus was robbed of his wits by his stepmother here, and that out of revenge he inspires bacchic furies and dancing madnesses in others; for which reason he gave men wine. such traditions concerning the gods i leave to those who think that they may be safely uttered (compare euthyph.; republic); i only know that no animal at birth is mature or perfect in intelligence; and in the intermediate period, in which he has not yet acquired his own proper sense, he rages and roars without rhyme or reason; and when he has once got on his legs he jumps about without rhyme or reason; and this, as you will remember, has been already said by us to be the origin of music and gymnastic. cleinias: to be sure, i remember. athenian: and did we not say that the sense of harmony and rhythm sprang from this beginning among men, and that apollo and the muses and dionysus were the gods whom we had to thank for them? cleinias: certainly. athenian: the other story implied that wine was given man out of revenge, and in order to make him mad; but our present doctrine, on the contrary, is, that wine was given him as a balm, and in order to implant modesty in the soul, and health and strength in the body. cleinias: that, stranger, is precisely what was said. athenian: then half the subject may now be considered to have been discussed; shall we proceed to the consideration of the other half? cleinias: what is the other half, and how do you divide the subject? athenian: the whole choral art is also in our view the whole of education; and of this art, rhythms and harmonies form the part which has to do with the voice. cleinias: yes. athenian: the movement of the body has rhythm in common with the movement of the voice, but gesture is peculiar to it, whereas song is simply the movement of the voice. cleinias: most true. athenian: and the sound of the voice which reaches and educates the soul, we have ventured to term music. cleinias: we were right. athenian: and the movement of the body, when regarded as an amusement, we termed dancing; but when extended and pursued with a view to the excellence of the body, this scientific training may be called gymnastic. cleinias: exactly. athenian: music, which was one half of the choral art, may be said to have been completely discussed. shall we proceed to the other half or not? what would you like? cleinias: my good friend, when you are talking with a cretan and lacedaemonian, and we have discussed music and not gymnastic, what answer are either of us likely to make to such an enquiry? athenian: an answer is contained in your question; and i understand and accept what you say not only as an answer, but also as a command to proceed with gymnastic. cleinias: you quite understand me; do as you say. athenian: i will; and there will not be any difficulty in speaking intelligibly to you about a subject with which both of you are far more familiar than with music. cleinias: there will not. athenian: is not the origin of gymnastics, too, to be sought in the tendency to rapid motion which exists in all animals; man, as we were saying, having attained the sense of rhythm, created and invented dancing; and melody arousing and awakening rhythm, both united formed the choral art? cleinias: very true. athenian: and one part of this subject has been already discussed by us, and there still remains another to be discussed? cleinias: exactly. athenian: i have first a final word to add to my discourse about drink, if you will allow me to do so. cleinias: what more have you to say? athenian: i should say that if a city seriously means to adopt the practice of drinking under due regulation and with a view to the enforcement of temperance, and in like manner, and on the same principle, will allow of other pleasures, designing to gain the victory over them--in this way all of them may be used. but if the state makes drinking an amusement only, and whoever likes may drink whenever he likes, and with whom he likes, and add to this any other indulgences, i shall never agree or allow that this city or this man should practise drinking. i would go further than the cretans and lacedaemonians, and am disposed rather to the law of the carthaginians, that no one while he is on a campaign should be allowed to taste wine at all, but that he should drink water during all that time, and that in the city no slave, male or female, should ever drink wine; and that no magistrates should drink during their year of office, nor should pilots of vessels or judges while on duty taste wine at all, nor any one who is going to hold a consultation about any matter of importance; nor in the day-time at all, unless in consequence of exercise or as medicine; nor again at night, when any one, either man or woman, is minded to get children. there are numberless other cases also in which those who have good sense and good laws ought not to drink wine, so that if what i say is true, no city will need many vineyards. their husbandry and their way of life in general will follow an appointed order, and their cultivation of the vine will be the most limited and the least common of their employments. and this, stranger, shall be the crown of my discourse about wine, if you agree. cleinias: excellent: we agree. book iii. athenian: enough of this. and what, then, is to be regarded as the origin of government? will not a man be able to judge of it best from a point of view in which he may behold the progress of states and their transitions to good or evil? cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: i mean that he might watch them from the point of view of time, and observe the changes which take place in them during infinite ages. cleinias: how so? athenian: why, do you think that you can reckon the time which has elapsed since cities first existed and men were citizens of them? cleinias: hardly. athenian: but are sure that it must be vast and incalculable? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and have not thousands and thousands of cities come into being during this period and as many perished? and has not each of them had every form of government many times over, now growing larger, now smaller, and again improving or declining? cleinias: to be sure. athenian: let us endeavour to ascertain the cause of these changes; for that will probably explain the first origin and development of forms of government. cleinias: very good. you shall endeavour to impart your thoughts to us, and we will make an effort to understand you. athenian: do you believe that there is any truth in ancient traditions? cleinias: what traditions? athenian: the traditions about the many destructions of mankind which have been occasioned by deluges and pestilences, and in many other ways, and of the survival of a remnant? cleinias: every one is disposed to believe them. athenian: let us consider one of them, that which was caused by the famous deluge. cleinias: what are we to observe about it? athenian: i mean to say that those who then escaped would only be hill shepherds,--small sparks of the human race preserved on the tops of mountains. cleinias: clearly. athenian: such survivors would necessarily be unacquainted with the arts and the various devices which are suggested to the dwellers in cities by interest or ambition, and with all the wrongs which they contrive against one another. cleinias: very true. athenian: let us suppose, then, that the cities in the plain and on the sea-coast were utterly destroyed at that time. cleinias: very good. athenian: would not all implements have then perished and every other excellent invention of political or any other sort of wisdom have utterly disappeared? cleinias: why, yes, my friend; and if things had always continued as they are at present ordered, how could any discovery have ever been made even in the least particular? for it is evident that the arts were unknown during ten thousand times ten thousand years. and no more than a thousand or two thousand years have elapsed since the discoveries of daedalus, orpheus and palamedes,--since marsyas and olympus invented music, and amphion the lyre--not to speak of numberless other inventions which are but of yesterday. athenian: have you forgotten, cleinias, the name of a friend who is really of yesterday? cleinias: i suppose that you mean epimenides. athenian: the same, my friend; he does indeed far overleap the heads of all mankind by his invention; for he carried out in practice, as you declare, what of old hesiod (works and days) only preached. cleinias: yes, according to our tradition. athenian: after the great destruction, may we not suppose that the state of man was something of this sort:--in the beginning of things there was a fearful illimitable desert and a vast expanse of land; a herd or two of oxen would be the only survivors of the animal world; and there might be a few goats, these too hardly enough to maintain the shepherds who tended them? cleinias: true. athenian: and of cities or governments or legislation, about which we are now talking, do you suppose that they could have any recollection at all? cleinias: none whatever. athenian: and out of this state of things has there not sprung all that we now are and have: cities and governments, and arts and laws, and a great deal of vice and a great deal of virtue? cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: why, my good friend, how can we possibly suppose that those who knew nothing of all the good and evil of cities could have attained their full development, whether of virtue or of vice? cleinias: i understand your meaning, and you are quite right. athenian: but, as time advanced and the race multiplied, the world came to be what the world is. cleinias: very true. athenian: doubtless the change was not made all in a moment, but little by little, during a very long period of time. cleinias: a highly probable supposition. athenian: at first, they would have a natural fear ringing in their ears which would prevent their descending from the heights into the plain. cleinias: of course. athenian: the fewness of the survivors at that time would have made them all the more desirous of seeing one another; but then the means of travelling either by land or sea had been almost entirely lost, as i may say, with the loss of the arts, and there was great difficulty in getting at one another; for iron and brass and all metals were jumbled together and had disappeared in the chaos; nor was there any possibility of extracting ore from them; and they had scarcely any means of felling timber. even if you suppose that some implements might have been preserved in the mountains, they must quickly have worn out and vanished, and there would be no more of them until the art of metallurgy had again revived. cleinias: there could not have been. athenian: in how many generations would this be attained? cleinias: clearly, not for many generations. athenian: during this period, and for some time afterwards, all the arts which require iron and brass and the like would disappear. cleinias: certainly. athenian: faction and war would also have died out in those days, and for many reasons. cleinias: how would that be? athenian: in the first place, the desolation of these primitive men would create in them a feeling of affection and goodwill towards one another; and, secondly, they would have no occasion to quarrel about their subsistence, for they would have pasture in abundance, except just at first, and in some particular cases; and from their pasture-land they would obtain the greater part of their food in a primitive age, having plenty of milk and flesh; moreover they would procure other food by the chase, not to be despised either in quantity or quality. they would also have abundance of clothing, and bedding, and dwellings, and utensils either capable of standing on the fire or not; for the plastic and weaving arts do not require any use of iron: and god has given these two arts to man in order to provide him with all such things, that, when reduced to the last extremity, the human race may still grow and increase. hence in those days mankind were not very poor; nor was poverty a cause of difference among them; and rich they could not have been, having neither gold nor silver:--such at that time was their condition. and the community which has neither poverty nor riches will always have the noblest principles; in it there is no insolence or injustice, nor, again, are there any contentions or envyings. and therefore they were good, and also because they were what is called simple-minded; and when they were told about good and evil, they in their simplicity believed what they heard to be very truth and practised it. no one had the wit to suspect another of a falsehood, as men do now; but what they heard about gods and men they believed to be true, and lived accordingly; and therefore they were in all respects such as we have described them. cleinias: that quite accords with my views, and with those of my friend here. athenian: would not many generations living on in a simple manner, although ruder, perhaps, and more ignorant of the arts generally, and in particular of those of land or naval warfare, and likewise of other arts, termed in cities legal practices and party conflicts, and including all conceivable ways of hurting one another in word and deed;--although inferior to those who lived before the deluge, or to the men of our day in these respects, would they not, i say, be simpler and more manly, and also more temperate and altogether more just? the reason has been already explained. cleinias: very true. athenian: i should wish you to understand that what has preceded and what is about to follow, has been, and will be said, with the intention of explaining what need the men of that time had of laws, and who was their lawgiver. cleinias: and thus far what you have said has been very well said. athenian: they could hardly have wanted lawgivers as yet; nothing of that sort was likely to have existed in their days, for they had no letters at this early period; they lived by habit and the customs of their ancestors, as they are called. cleinias: probably. athenian: but there was already existing a form of government which, if i am not mistaken, is generally termed a lordship, and this still remains in many places, both among hellenes and barbarians (compare arist. pol.), and is the government which is declared by homer to have prevailed among the cyclopes:-- 'they have neither councils nor judgments, but they dwell in hollow caves on the tops of high mountains, and every one gives law to his wife and children, and they do not busy themselves about one another.' (odyss.) cleinias: that seems to be a charming poet of yours; i have read some other verses of his, which are very clever; but i do not know much of him, for foreign poets are very little read among the cretans. megillus: but they are in lacedaemon, and he appears to be the prince of them all; the manner of life, however, which he describes is not spartan, but rather ionian, and he seems quite to confirm what you are saying, when he traces up the ancient state of mankind by the help of tradition to barbarism. athenian: yes, he does confirm it; and we may accept his witness to the fact that such forms of government sometimes arise. cleinias: we may. athenian: and were not such states composed of men who had been dispersed in single habitations and families by the poverty which attended the devastations; and did not the eldest then rule among them, because with them government originated in the authority of a father and a mother, whom, like a flock of birds, they followed, forming one troop under the patriarchal rule and sovereignty of their parents, which of all sovereignties is the most just? cleinias: very true. athenian: after this they came together in greater numbers, and increased the size of their cities, and betook themselves to husbandry, first of all at the foot of the mountains, and made enclosures of loose walls and works of defence, in order to keep off wild beasts; thus creating a single large and common habitation. cleinias: yes; at least we may suppose so. athenian: there is another thing which would probably happen. cleinias: what? athenian: when these larger habitations grew up out of the lesser original ones, each of the lesser ones would survive in the larger; every family would be under the rule of the eldest, and, owing to their separation from one another, would have peculiar customs in things divine and human, which they would have received from their several parents who had educated them; and these customs would incline them to order, when the parents had the element of order in their nature, and to courage, when they had the element of courage. and they would naturally stamp upon their children, and upon their children's children, their own likings; and, as we are saying, they would find their way into the larger society, having already their own peculiar laws. cleinias: certainly. athenian: and every man surely likes his own laws best, and the laws of others not so well. cleinias: true. athenian: then now we seem to have stumbled upon the beginnings of legislation. cleinias: exactly. athenian: the next step will be that these persons who have met together, will select some arbiters, who will review the laws of all of them, and will publicly present such as they approve to the chiefs who lead the tribes, and who are in a manner their kings, allowing them to choose those which they think best. these persons will themselves be called legislators, and will appoint the magistrates, framing some sort of aristocracy, or perhaps monarchy, out of the dynasties or lordships, and in this altered state of the government they will live. cleinias: yes, that would be the natural order of things. athenian: then, now let us speak of a third form of government, in which all other forms and conditions of polities and cities concur. cleinias: what is that? athenian: the form which in fact homer indicates as following the second. this third form arose when, as he says, dardanus founded dardania:-- 'for not as yet had the holy ilium been built on the plain to be a city of speaking men; but they were still dwelling at the foot of many-fountained ida.' for indeed, in these verses, and in what he said of the cyclopes, he speaks the words of god and nature; for poets are a divine race, and often in their strains, by the aid of the muses and the graces, they attain truth. cleinias: yes. athenian: then now let us proceed with the rest of our tale, which will probably be found to illustrate in some degree our proposed design:--shall we do so? cleinias: by all means. athenian: ilium was built, when they descended from the mountain, in a large and fair plain, on a sort of low hill, watered by many rivers descending from ida. cleinias: such is the tradition. athenian: and we must suppose this event to have taken place many ages after the deluge? athenian: a marvellous forgetfulness of the former destruction would appear to have come over them, when they placed their town right under numerous streams flowing from the heights, trusting for their security to not very high hills, either. cleinias: there must have been a long interval, clearly. athenian: and, as population increased, many other cities would begin to be inhabited. cleinias: doubtless. athenian: those cities made war against troy--by sea as well as land--for at that time men were ceasing to be afraid of the sea. cleinias: clearly. athenian: the achaeans remained ten years, and overthrew troy. cleinias: true. athenian: and during the ten years in which the achaeans were besieging ilium, the homes of the besiegers were falling into an evil plight. their youth revolted; and when the soldiers returned to their own cities and families, they did not receive them properly, and as they ought to have done, and numerous deaths, murders, exiles, were the consequence. the exiles came again, under a new name, no longer achaeans, but dorians,--a name which they derived from dorieus; for it was he who gathered them together. the rest of the story is told by you lacedaemonians as part of the history of sparta. megillus: to be sure. athenian: thus, after digressing from the original subject of laws into music and drinking-bouts, the argument has, providentially, come back to the same point, and presents to us another handle. for we have reached the settlement of lacedaemon; which, as you truly say, is in laws and in institutions the sister of crete. and we are all the better for the digression, because we have gone through various governments and settlements, and have been present at the foundation of a first, second, and third state, succeeding one another in infinite time. and now there appears on the horizon a fourth state or nation which was once in process of settlement and has continued settled to this day. if, out of all this, we are able to discern what is well or ill settled, and what laws are the salvation and what are the destruction of cities, and what changes would make a state happy, o megillus and cleinias, we may now begin again, unless we have some fault to find with the previous discussion. megillus: if some god, stranger, would promise us that our new enquiry about legislation would be as good and full as the present, i would go a great way to hear such another, and would think that a day as long as this--and we are now approaching the longest day of the year--was too short for the discussion. athenian: then i suppose that we must consider this subject? megillus: certainly. athenian: let us place ourselves in thought at the moment when lacedaemon and argos and messene and the rest of the peloponnesus were all in complete subjection, megillus, to your ancestors; for afterwards, as the legend informs us, they divided their army into three portions, and settled three cities, argos, messene, lacedaemon. megillus: true. athenian: temenus was the king of argos, cresphontes of messene, procles and eurysthenes of lacedaemon. megillus: certainly. athenian: to these kings all the men of that day made oath that they would assist them, if any one subverted their kingdom. megillus: true. athenian: but can a kingship be destroyed, or was any other form of government ever destroyed, by any but the rulers themselves? no indeed, by zeus. have we already forgotten what was said a little while ago? megillus: no. athenian: and may we not now further confirm what was then mentioned? for we have come upon facts which have brought us back again to the same principle; so that, in resuming the discussion, we shall not be enquiring about an empty theory, but about events which actually happened. the case was as follows:--three royal heroes made oath to three cities which were under a kingly government, and the cities to the kings, that both rulers and subjects should govern and be governed according to the laws which were common to all of them: the rulers promised that as time and the race went forward they would not make their rule more arbitrary; and the subjects said that, if the rulers observed these conditions, they would never subvert or permit others to subvert those kingdoms; the kings were to assist kings and peoples when injured, and the peoples were to assist peoples and kings in like manner. is not this the fact? megillus: yes. athenian: and the three states to whom these laws were given, whether their kings or any others were the authors of them, had therefore the greatest security for the maintenance of their constitutions? megillus: what security? athenian: that the other two states were always to come to the rescue against a rebellious third. megillus: true. athenian: many persons say that legislators ought to impose such laws as the mass of the people will be ready to receive; but this is just as if one were to command gymnastic masters or physicians to treat or cure their pupils or patients in an agreeable manner. megillus: exactly. athenian: whereas the physician may often be too happy if he can restore health, and make the body whole, without any very great infliction of pain. megillus: certainly. athenian: there was also another advantage possessed by the men of that day, which greatly lightened the task of passing laws. megillus: what advantage? athenian: the legislators of that day, when they equalized property, escaped the great accusation which generally arises in legislation, if a person attempts to disturb the possession of land, or to abolish debts, because he sees that without this reform there can never be any real equality. now, in general, when the legislator attempts to make a new settlement of such matters, every one meets him with the cry, that 'he is not to disturb vested interests,'--declaring with imprecations that he is introducing agrarian laws and cancelling of debts, until a man is at his wits' end; whereas no one could quarrel with the dorians for distributing the land,--there was nothing to hinder them; and as for debts, they had none which were considerable or of old standing. megillus: very true. athenian: but then, my good friends, why did the settlement and legislation of their country turn out so badly? megillus: how do you mean; and why do you blame them? athenian: there were three kingdoms, and of these, two quickly corrupted their original constitution and laws, and the only one which remained was the spartan. megillus: the question which you ask is not easily answered. athenian: and yet must be answered when we are enquiring about laws, this being our old man's sober game of play, whereby we beguile the way, as i was saying when we first set out on our journey. megillus: certainly; and we must find out why this was. athenian: what laws are more worthy of our attention than those which have regulated such cities? or what settlements of states are greater or more famous? megillus: i know of none. athenian: can we doubt that your ancestors intended these institutions not only for the protection of peloponnesus, but of all the hellenes, in case they were attacked by the barbarian? for the inhabitants of the region about ilium, when they provoked by their insolence the trojan war, relied upon the power of the assyrians and the empire of ninus, which still existed and had a great prestige; the people of those days fearing the united assyrian empire just as we now fear the great king. and the second capture of troy was a serious offence against them, because troy was a portion of the assyrian empire. to meet the danger the single army was distributed between three cities by the royal brothers, sons of heracles,--a fair device, as it seemed, and a far better arrangement than the expedition against troy. for, firstly, the people of that day had, as they thought, in the heraclidae better leaders than the pelopidae; in the next place, they considered that their army was superior in valour to that which went against troy; for, although the latter conquered the trojans, they were themselves conquered by the heraclidae--achaeans by dorians. may we not suppose that this was the intention with which the men of those days framed the constitutions of their states? megillus: quite true. athenian: and would not men who had shared with one another many dangers, and were governed by a single race of royal brothers, and had taken the advice of oracles, and in particular of the delphian apollo, be likely to think that such states would be firmly and lastingly established? megillus: of course they would. athenian: yet these institutions, of which such great expectations were entertained, seem to have all rapidly vanished away; with the exception, as i was saying, of that small part of them which existed in your land. and this third part has never to this day ceased warring against the two others; whereas, if the original idea had been carried out, and they had agreed to be one, their power would have been invincible in war. megillus: no doubt. athenian: but what was the ruin of this glorious confederacy? here is a subject well worthy of consideration. megillus: certainly, no one will ever find more striking instances of laws or governments being the salvation or destruction of great and noble interests, than are here presented to his view. athenian: then now we seem to have happily arrived at a real and important question. megillus: very true. athenian: did you never remark, sage friend, that all men, and we ourselves at this moment, often fancy that they see some beautiful thing which might have effected wonders if any one had only known how to make a right use of it in some way; and yet this mode of looking at things may turn out after all to be a mistake, and not according to nature, either in our own case or in any other? megillus: to what are you referring, and what do you mean? athenian: i was thinking of my own admiration of the aforesaid heracleid expedition, which was so noble, and might have had such wonderful results for the hellenes, if only rightly used; and i was just laughing at myself. megillus: but were you not right and wise in speaking as you did, and we in assenting to you? athenian: perhaps; and yet i cannot help observing that any one who sees anything great or powerful, immediately has the feeling that--'if the owner only knew how to use his great and noble possession, how happy would he be, and what great results would he achieve!' megillus: and would he not be justified? athenian: reflect; in what point of view does this sort of praise appear just: first, in reference to the question in hand:--if the then commanders had known how to arrange their army properly, how would they have attained success? would not this have been the way? they would have bound them all firmly together and preserved them for ever, giving them freedom and dominion at pleasure, combined with the power of doing in the whole world, hellenic and barbarian, whatever they and their descendants desired. what other aim would they have had? megillus: very good. athenian: suppose any one were in the same way to express his admiration at the sight of great wealth or family honour, or the like, he would praise them under the idea that through them he would attain either all or the greater and chief part of what he desires. megillus: he would. athenian: well, now, and does not the argument show that there is one common desire of all mankind? megillus: what is it? athenian: the desire which a man has, that all things, if possible,--at any rate, things human,--may come to pass in accordance with his soul's desire. megillus: certainly. athenian: and having this desire always, and at every time of life, in youth, in manhood, in age, he cannot help always praying for the fulfilment of it. megillus: no doubt. athenian: and we join in the prayers of our friends, and ask for them what they ask for themselves. megillus: we do. athenian: dear is the son to the father--the younger to the elder. megillus: of course. athenian: and yet the son often prays to obtain things which the father prays that he may not obtain. megillus: when the son is young and foolish, you mean? athenian: yes; or when the father, in the dotage of age or the heat of youth, having no sense of right and justice, prays with fervour, under the influence of feelings akin to those of theseus when he cursed the unfortunate hippolytus, do you imagine that the son, having a sense of right and justice, will join in his father's prayers? megillus: i understand you to mean that a man should not desire or be in a hurry to have all things according to his wish, for his wish may be at variance with his reason. but every state and every individual ought to pray and strive for wisdom. athenian: yes; and i remember, and you will remember, what i said at first, that a statesman and legislator ought to ordain laws with a view to wisdom; while you were arguing that the good lawgiver ought to order all with a view to war. and to this i replied that there were four virtues, but that upon your view one of them only was the aim of legislation; whereas you ought to regard all virtue, and especially that which comes first, and is the leader of all the rest--i mean wisdom and mind and opinion, having affection and desire in their train. and now the argument returns to the same point, and i say once more, in jest if you like, or in earnest if you like, that the prayer of a fool is full of danger, being likely to end in the opposite of what he desires. and if you would rather receive my words in earnest, i am willing that you should; and you will find, i suspect, as i have said already, that not cowardice was the cause of the ruin of the dorian kings and of their whole design, nor ignorance of military matters, either on the part of the rulers or of their subjects; but their misfortunes were due to their general degeneracy, and especially to their ignorance of the most important human affairs. that was then, and is still, and always will be the case, as i will endeavour, if you will allow me, to make out and demonstrate as well as i am able to you who are my friends, in the course of the argument. cleinias: pray go on, stranger;--compliments are troublesome, but we will show, not in word but in deed, how greatly we prize your words, for we will give them our best attention; and that is the way in which a freeman best shows his approval or disapproval. megillus: excellent, cleinias; let us do as you say. cleinias: by all means, if heaven wills. go on. athenian: well, then, proceeding in the same train of thought, i say that the greatest ignorance was the ruin of the dorian power, and that now, as then, ignorance is ruin. and if this be true, the legislator must endeavour to implant wisdom in states, and banish ignorance to the utmost of his power. cleinias: that is evident. athenian: then now consider what is really the greatest ignorance. i should like to know whether you and megillus would agree with me in what i am about to say; for my opinion is-- cleinias: what? athenian: that the greatest ignorance is when a man hates that which he nevertheless thinks to be good and noble, and loves and embraces that which he knows to be unrighteous and evil. this disagreement between the sense of pleasure and the judgment of reason in the soul is, in my opinion, the worst ignorance; and also the greatest, because affecting the great mass of the human soul; for the principle which feels pleasure and pain in the individual is like the mass or populace in a state. and when the soul is opposed to knowledge, or opinion, or reason, which are her natural lords, that i call folly, just as in the state, when the multitude refuses to obey their rulers and the laws; or, again, in the individual, when fair reasonings have their habitation in the soul and yet do no good, but rather the reverse of good. all these cases i term the worst ignorance, whether in individuals or in states. you will understand, stranger, that i am speaking of something which is very different from the ignorance of handicraftsmen. cleinias: yes, my friend, we understand and agree. athenian: let us, then, in the first place declare and affirm that the citizen who does not know these things ought never to have any kind of authority entrusted to him: he must be stigmatized as ignorant, even though he be versed in calculation and skilled in all sorts of accomplishments, and feats of mental dexterity; and the opposite are to be called wise, even although, in the words of the proverb, they know neither how to read nor how to swim; and to them, as to men of sense, authority is to be committed. for, o my friends, how can there be the least shadow of wisdom when there is no harmony? there is none; but the noblest and greatest of harmonies may be truly said to be the greatest wisdom; and of this he is a partaker who lives according to reason; whereas he who is devoid of reason is the destroyer of his house and the very opposite of a saviour of the state: he is utterly ignorant of political wisdom. let this, then, as i was saying, be laid down by us. cleinias: let it be so laid down. athenian: i suppose that there must be rulers and subjects in states? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and what are the principles on which men rule and obey in cities, whether great or small; and similarly in families? what are they, and how many in number? is there not one claim of authority which is always just,--that of fathers and mothers and in general of progenitors to rule over their offspring? cleinias: there is. athenian: next follows the principle that the noble should rule over the ignoble; and, thirdly, that the elder should rule and the younger obey? cleinias: to be sure. athenian: and, fourthly, that slaves should be ruled, and their masters rule? cleinias: of course. athenian: fifthly, if i am not mistaken, comes the principle that the stronger shall rule, and the weaker be ruled? cleinias: that is a rule not to be disobeyed. athenian: yes, and a rule which prevails very widely among all creatures, and is according to nature, as the theban poet pindar once said; and the sixth principle, and the greatest of all, is, that the wise should lead and command, and the ignorant follow and obey; and yet, o thou most wise pindar, as i should reply him, this surely is not contrary to nature, but according to nature, being the rule of law over willing subjects, and not a rule of compulsion. cleinias: most true. athenian: there is a seventh kind of rule which is awarded by lot, and is dear to the gods and a token of good fortune: he on whom the lot falls is a ruler, and he who fails in obtaining the lot goes away and is the subject; and this we affirm to be quite just. cleinias: certainly. athenian: 'then now,' as we say playfully to any of those who lightly undertake the making of laws, 'you see, legislator, the principles of government, how many they are, and that they are naturally opposed to each other. there we have discovered a fountain-head of seditions, to which you must attend. and, first, we will ask you to consider with us, how and in what respect the kings of argos and messene violated these our maxims, and ruined themselves and the great and famous hellenic power of the olden time. was it because they did not know how wisely hesiod spoke when he said that the half is often more than the whole? his meaning was, that when to take the whole would be dangerous, and to take the half would be the safe and moderate course, then the moderate or better was more than the immoderate or worse.' cleinias: very true. athenian: and may we suppose this immoderate spirit to be more fatal when found among kings than when among peoples? cleinias: the probability is that ignorance will be a disorder especially prevalent among kings, because they lead a proud and luxurious life. athenian: is it not palpable that the chief aim of the kings of that time was to get the better of the established laws, and that they were not in harmony with the principles which they had agreed to observe by word and oath? this want of harmony may have had the appearance of wisdom, but was really, as we assert, the greatest ignorance, and utterly overthrew the whole empire by dissonance and harsh discord. cleinias: very likely. athenian: good; and what measures ought the legislator to have then taken in order to avert this calamity? truly there is no great wisdom in knowing, and no great difficulty in telling, after the evil has happened; but to have foreseen the remedy at the time would have taken a much wiser head than ours. megillus: what do you mean? athenian: any one who looks at what has occurred with you lacedaemonians, megillus, may easily know and may easily say what ought to have been done at that time. megillus: speak a little more clearly. athenian: nothing can be clearer than the observation which i am about to make. megillus: what is it? athenian: that if any one gives too great a power to anything, too large a sail to a vessel, too much food to the body, too much authority to the mind, and does not observe the mean, everything is overthrown, and, in the wantonness of excess, runs in the one case to disorders, and in the other to injustice, which is the child of excess. i mean to say, my dear friends, that there is no soul of man, young and irresponsible, who will be able to sustain the temptation of arbitrary power--no one who will not, under such circumstances, become filled with folly, that worst of diseases, and be hated by his nearest and dearest friends: when this happens his kingdom is undermined, and all his power vanishes from him. and great legislators who know the mean should take heed of the danger. as far as we can guess at this distance of time, what happened was as follows:-- megillus: what? athenian: a god, who watched over sparta, seeing into the future, gave you two families of kings instead of one; and thus brought you more within the limits of moderation. in the next place, some human wisdom mingled with divine power, observing that the constitution of your government was still feverish and excited, tempered your inborn strength and pride of birth with the moderation which comes of age, making the power of your twenty-eight elders equal with that of the kings in the most important matters. but your third saviour, perceiving that your government was still swelling and foaming, and desirous to impose a curb upon it, instituted the ephors, whose power he made to resemble that of magistrates elected by lot; and by this arrangement the kingly office, being compounded of the right elements and duly moderated, was preserved, and was the means of preserving all the rest. since, if there had been only the original legislators, temenus, cresphontes, and their contemporaries, as far as they were concerned not even the portion of aristodemus would have been preserved; for they had no proper experience in legislation, or they would surely not have imagined that oaths would moderate a youthful spirit invested with a power which might be converted into a tyranny. now that god has instructed us what sort of government would have been or will be lasting, there is no wisdom, as i have already said, in judging after the event; there is no difficulty in learning from an example which has already occurred. but if any one could have foreseen all this at the time, and had been able to moderate the government of the three kingdoms and unite them into one, he might have saved all the excellent institutions which were then conceived; and no persian or any other armament would have dared to attack us, or would have regarded hellas as a power to be despised. cleinias: true. athenian: there was small credit to us, cleinias, in defeating them; and the discredit was, not that the conquerors did not win glorious victories both by land and sea, but what, in my opinion, brought discredit was, first of all, the circumstance that of the three cities one only fought on behalf of hellas, and the two others were so utterly good for nothing that the one was waging a mighty war against lacedaemon, and was thus preventing her from rendering assistance, while the city of argos, which had the precedence at the time of the distribution, when asked to aid in repelling the barbarian, would not answer to the call, or give aid. many things might be told about hellas in connexion with that war which are far from honourable; nor, indeed, can we rightly say that hellas repelled the invader; for the truth is, that unless the athenians and lacedaemonians, acting in concert, had warded off the impending yoke, all the tribes of hellas would have been fused in a chaos of hellenes mingling with one another, of barbarians mingling with hellenes, and hellenes with barbarians; just as nations who are now subject to the persian power, owing to unnatural separations and combinations of them, are dispersed and scattered, and live miserably. these, cleinias and megillus, are the reproaches which we have to make against statesmen and legislators, as they are called, past and present, if we would analyse the causes of their failure, and find out what else might have been done. we said, for instance, just now, that there ought to be no great and unmixed powers; and this was under the idea that a state ought to be free and wise and harmonious, and that a legislator ought to legislate with a view to this end. nor is there any reason to be surprised at our continually proposing aims for the legislator which appear not to be always the same; but we should consider when we say that temperance is to be the aim, or wisdom is to be the aim, or friendship is to be the aim, that all these aims are really the same; and if so, a variety in the modes of expression ought not to disturb us. cleinias: let us resume the argument in that spirit. and now, speaking of friendship and wisdom and freedom, i wish that you would tell me at what, in your opinion, the legislator should aim. athenian: hear me, then: there are two mother forms of states from which the rest may be truly said to be derived; and one of them may be called monarchy and the other democracy: the persians have the highest form of the one, and we of the other; almost all the rest, as i was saying, are variations of these. now, if you are to have liberty and the combination of friendship with wisdom, you must have both these forms of government in a measure; the argument emphatically declares that no city can be well governed which is not made up of both. cleinias: impossible. athenian: neither the one, if it be exclusively and excessively attached to monarchy, nor the other, if it be similarly attached to freedom, observes moderation; but your states, the laconian and cretan, have more of it; and the same was the case with the athenians and persians of old time, but now they have less. shall i tell you why? cleinias: by all means, if it will tend to elucidate our subject. athenian: hear, then:--there was a time when the persians had more of the state which is a mean between slavery and freedom. in the reign of cyrus they were freemen and also lords of many others: the rulers gave a share of freedom to the subjects, and being treated as equals, the soldiers were on better terms with their generals, and showed themselves more ready in the hour of danger. and if there was any wise man among them, who was able to give good counsel, he imparted his wisdom to the public; for the king was not jealous, but allowed him full liberty of speech, and gave honour to those who could advise him in any matter. and the nation waxed in all respects, because there was freedom and friendship and communion of mind among them. cleinias: that certainly appears to have been the case. athenian: how, then, was this advantage lost under cambyses, and again recovered under darius? shall i try to divine? cleinias: the enquiry, no doubt, has a bearing upon our subject. athenian: i imagine that cyrus, though a great and patriotic general, had never given his mind to education, and never attended to the order of his household. cleinias: what makes you say so? athenian: i think that from his youth upwards he was a soldier, and entrusted the education of his children to the women; and they brought them up from their childhood as the favourites of fortune, who were blessed already, and needed no more blessings. they thought that they were happy enough, and that no one should be allowed to oppose them in any way, and they compelled every one to praise all that they said or did. this was how they brought them up. cleinias: a splendid education truly! athenian: such an one as women were likely to give them, and especially princesses who had recently grown rich, and in the absence of the men, too, who were occupied in wars and dangers, and had no time to look after them. cleinias: what would you expect? athenian: their father had possessions of cattle and sheep, and many herds of men and other animals, but he did not consider that those to whom he was about to make them over were not trained in his own calling, which was persian; for the persians are shepherds--sons of a rugged land, which is a stern mother, and well fitted to produce a sturdy race able to live in the open air and go without sleep, and also to fight, if fighting is required (compare arist. pol.). he did not observe that his sons were trained differently; through the so-called blessing of being royal they were educated in the median fashion by women and eunuchs, which led to their becoming such as people do become when they are brought up unreproved. and so, after the death of cyrus, his sons, in the fulness of luxury and licence, took the kingdom, and first one slew the other because he could not endure a rival; and, afterwards, the slayer himself, mad with wine and brutality, lost his kingdom through the medes and the eunuch, as they called him, who despised the folly of cambyses. cleinias: so runs the tale, and such probably were the facts. athenian: yes; and the tradition says, that the empire came back to the persians, through darius and the seven chiefs. cleinias: true. athenian: let us note the rest of the story. observe, that darius was not the son of a king, and had not received a luxurious education. when he came to the throne, being one of the seven, he divided the country into seven portions, and of this arrangement there are some shadowy traces still remaining; he made laws upon the principle of introducing universal equality in the order of the state, and he embodied in his laws the settlement of the tribute which cyrus promised,--thus creating a feeling of friendship and community among all the persians, and attaching the people to him with money and gifts. hence his armies cheerfully acquired for him countries as large as those which cyrus had left behind him. darius was succeeded by his son xerxes; and he again was brought up in the royal and luxurious fashion. might we not most justly say: 'o darius, how came you to bring up xerxes in the same way in which cyrus brought up cambyses, and not to see his fatal mistake?' for xerxes, being the creation of the same education, met with much the same fortune as cambyses; and from that time until now there has never been a really great king among the persians, although they are all called great. and their degeneracy is not to be attributed to chance, as i maintain; the reason is rather the evil life which is generally led by the sons of very rich and royal persons; for never will boy or man, young or old, excel in virtue, who has been thus educated. and this, i say, is what the legislator has to consider, and what at the present moment has to be considered by us. justly may you, o lacedaemonians, be praised, in that you do not give special honour or a special education to wealth rather than to poverty, or to a royal rather than to a private station, where the divine and inspired lawgiver has not originally commanded them to be given. for no man ought to have pre-eminent honour in a state because he surpasses others in wealth, any more than because he is swift of foot or fair or strong, unless he have some virtue in him; nor even if he have virtue, unless he have this particular virtue of temperance. megillus: what do you mean, stranger? athenian: i suppose that courage is a part of virtue? megillus: to be sure. athenian: then, now hear and judge for yourself:--would you like to have for a fellow-lodger or neighbour a very courageous man, who had no control over himself? megillus: heaven forbid! athenian: or an artist, who was clever in his profession, but a rogue? megillus: certainly not. athenian: and surely justice does not grow apart from temperance? megillus: impossible. athenian: any more than our pattern wise man, whom we exhibited as having his pleasures and pains in accordance with and corresponding to true reason, can be intemperate? megillus: no. athenian: there is a further consideration relating to the due and undue award of honours in states. megillus: what is it? athenian: i should like to know whether temperance without the other virtues, existing alone in the soul of man, is rightly to be praised or blamed? megillus: i cannot tell. athenian: and that is the best answer; for whichever alternative you had chosen, i think that you would have gone wrong. megillus: i am fortunate. athenian: very good; a quality, which is a mere appendage of things which can be praised or blamed, does not deserve an expression of opinion, but is best passed over in silence. megillus: you are speaking of temperance? athenian: yes; but of the other virtues, that which having this appendage is also most beneficial, will be most deserving of honour, and next that which is beneficial in the next degree; and so each of them will be rightly honoured according to a regular order. megillus: true. athenian: and ought not the legislator to determine these classes? megillus: certainly he should. athenian: suppose that we leave to him the arrangement of details. but the general division of laws according to their importance into a first and second and third class, we who are lovers of law may make ourselves. megillus: very good. athenian: we maintain, then, that a state which would be safe and happy, as far as the nature of man allows, must and ought to distribute honour and dishonour in the right way. and the right way is to place the goods of the soul first and highest in the scale, always assuming temperance to be the condition of them; and to assign the second place to the goods of the body; and the third place to money and property. and if any legislator or state departs from this rule by giving money the place of honour, or in any way preferring that which is really last, may we not say, that he or the state is doing an unholy and unpatriotic thing? megillus: yes; let that be plainly declared. athenian: the consideration of the persian governments led us thus far to enlarge. we remarked that the persians grew worse and worse. and we affirm the reason of this to have been, that they too much diminished the freedom of the people, and introduced too much of despotism, and so destroyed friendship and community of feeling. and when there is an end of these, no longer do the governors govern on behalf of their subjects or of the people, but on behalf of themselves; and if they think that they can gain ever so small an advantage for themselves, they devastate cities, and send fire and desolation among friendly races. and as they hate ruthlessly and horribly, so are they hated; and when they want the people to fight for them, they find no community of feeling or willingness to risk their lives on their behalf; their untold myriads are useless to them on the field of battle, and they think that their salvation depends on the employment of mercenaries and strangers whom they hire, as if they were in want of more men. and they cannot help being stupid, since they proclaim by their actions that the ordinary distinctions of right and wrong which are made in a state are a trifle, when compared with gold and silver. megillus: quite true. athenian: and now enough of the persians, and their present mal-administration of their government, which is owing to the excess of slavery and despotism among them. megillus: good. athenian: next, we must pass in review the government of attica in like manner, and from this show that entire freedom and the absence of all superior authority is not by any means so good as government by others when properly limited, which was our ancient athenian constitution at the time when the persians made their attack on hellas, or, speaking more correctly, on the whole continent of europe. there were four classes, arranged according to a property census, and reverence was our queen and mistress, and made us willing to live in obedience to the laws which then prevailed. also the vastness of the persian armament, both by sea and on land, caused a helpless terror, which made us more and more the servants of our rulers and of the laws; and for all these reasons an exceeding harmony prevailed among us. about ten years before the naval engagement at salamis, datis came, leading a persian host by command of darius, which was expressly directed against the athenians and eretrians, having orders to carry them away captive; and these orders he was to execute under pain of death. now datis and his myriads soon became complete masters of eretria, and he sent a fearful report to athens that no eretrian had escaped him; for the soldiers of datis had joined hands and netted the whole of eretria. and this report, whether well or ill founded, was terrible to all the hellenes, and above all to the athenians, and they dispatched embassies in all directions, but no one was willing to come to their relief, with the exception of the lacedaemonians; and they, either because they were detained by the messenian war, which was then going on, or for some other reason of which we are not told, came a day too late for the battle of marathon. after a while, the news arrived of mighty preparations being made, and innumerable threats came from the king. then, as time went on, a rumour reached us that darius had died, and that his son, who was young and hot-headed, had come to the throne and was persisting in his design. the athenians were under the impression that the whole expedition was directed against them, in consequence of the battle of marathon; and hearing of the bridge over the hellespont, and the canal of athos, and the host of ships, considering that there was no salvation for them either by land or by sea, for there was no one to help them, and remembering that in the first expedition, when the persians destroyed eretria, no one came to their help, or would risk the danger of an alliance with them, they thought that this would happen again, at least on land; nor, when they looked to the sea, could they descry any hope of salvation; for they were attacked by a thousand vessels and more. one chance of safety remained, slight indeed and desperate, but their only one. they saw that on the former occasion they had gained a seemingly impossible victory, and borne up by this hope, they found that their only refuge was in themselves and in the gods. all these things created in them the spirit of friendship; there was the fear of the moment, and there was that higher fear, which they had acquired by obedience to their ancient laws, and which i have several times in the preceding discourse called reverence, of which the good man ought to be a willing servant, and of which the coward is independent and fearless. if this fear had not possessed them, they would never have met the enemy, or defended their temples and sepulchres and their country, and everything that was near and dear to them, as they did; but little by little they would have been all scattered and dispersed. megillus: your words, athenian, are quite true, and worthy of yourself and of your country. athenian: they are true, megillus; and to you, who have inherited the virtues of your ancestors, i may properly speak of the actions of that day. and i would wish you and cleinias to consider whether my words have not also a bearing on legislation; for i am not discoursing only for the pleasure of talking, but for the argument's sake. please to remark that the experience both of ourselves and the persians was, in a certain sense, the same; for as they led their people into utter servitude, so we too led ours into all freedom. and now, how shall we proceed? for i would like you to observe that our previous arguments have good deal to say for themselves. megillus: true; but i wish that you would give us a fuller explanation. athenian: i will. under the ancient laws, my friends, the people was not as now the master, but rather the willing servant of the laws. megillus: what laws do you mean? athenian: in the first place, let us speak of the laws about music,--that is to say, such music as then existed--in order that we may trace the growth of the excess of freedom from the beginning. now music was early divided among us into certain kinds and manners. one sort consisted of prayers to the gods, which were called hymns; and there was another and opposite sort called lamentations, and another termed paeans, and another, celebrating the birth of dionysus, called, i believe, 'dithyrambs.' and they used the actual word 'laws,' or nomoi, for another kind of song; and to this they added the term 'citharoedic.' all these and others were duly distinguished, nor were the performers allowed to confuse one style of music with another. and the authority which determined and gave judgment, and punished the disobedient, was not expressed in a hiss, nor in the most unmusical shouts of the multitude, as in our days, nor in applause and clapping of hands. but the directors of public instruction insisted that the spectators should listen in silence to the end; and boys and their tutors, and the multitude in general, were kept quiet by a hint from a stick. such was the good order which the multitude were willing to observe; they would never have dared to give judgment by noisy cries. and then, as time went on, the poets themselves introduced the reign of vulgar and lawless innovation. they were men of genius, but they had no perception of what is just and lawful in music; raging like bacchanals and possessed with inordinate delights--mingling lamentations with hymns, and paeans with dithyrambs; imitating the sounds of the flute on the lyre, and making one general confusion; ignorantly affirming that music has no truth, and, whether good or bad, can only be judged of rightly by the pleasure of the hearer (compare republic). and by composing such licentious works, and adding to them words as licentious, they have inspired the multitude with lawlessness and boldness, and made them fancy that they can judge for themselves about melody and song. and in this way the theatres from being mute have become vocal, as though they had understanding of good and bad in music and poetry; and instead of an aristocracy, an evil sort of theatrocracy has grown up (compare arist. pol.). for if the democracy which judged had only consisted of educated persons, no fatal harm would have been done; but in music there first arose the universal conceit of omniscience and general lawlessness;--freedom came following afterwards, and men, fancying that they knew what they did not know, had no longer any fear, and the absence of fear begets shamelessness. for what is this shamelessness, which is so evil a thing, but the insolent refusal to regard the opinion of the better by reason of an over-daring sort of liberty? megillus: very true. athenian: consequent upon this freedom comes the other freedom, of disobedience to rulers (compare republic); and then the attempt to escape the control and exhortation of father, mother, elders, and when near the end, the control of the laws also; and at the very end there is the contempt of oaths and pledges, and no regard at all for the gods,--herein they exhibit and imitate the old so-called titanic nature, and come to the same point as the titans when they rebelled against god, leading a life of endless evils. but why have i said all this? i ask, because the argument ought to be pulled up from time to time, and not be allowed to run away, but held with bit and bridle, and then we shall not, as the proverb says, fall off our ass. let us then once more ask the question, to what end has all this been said? megillus: very good. athenian: this, then, has been said for the sake-- megillus: of what? athenian: we were maintaining that the lawgiver ought to have three things in view: first, that the city for which he legislates should be free; and secondly, be at unity with herself; and thirdly, should have understanding;--these were our principles, were they not? megillus: certainly. athenian: with a view to this we selected two kinds of government, the one the most despotic, and the other the most free; and now we are considering which of them is the right form: we took a mean in both cases, of despotism in the one, and of liberty in the other, and we saw that in a mean they attained their perfection; but that when they were carried to the extreme of either, slavery or licence, neither party were the gainers. megillus: very true. athenian: and that was our reason for considering the settlement of the dorian army, and of the city built by dardanus at the foot of the mountains, and the removal of cities to the seashore, and of our mention of the first men, who were the survivors of the deluge. and all that was previously said about music and drinking, and what preceded, was said with the view of seeing how a state might be best administered, and how an individual might best order his own life. and now, megillus and cleinias, how can we put to the proof the value of our words? cleinias: stranger, i think that i see how a proof of their value may be obtained. this discussion of ours appears to me to have been singularly fortunate, and just what i at this moment want; most auspiciously have you and my friend megillus come in my way. for i will tell you what has happened to me; and i regard the coincidence as a sort of omen. the greater part of crete is going to send out a colony, and they have entrusted the management of the affair to the cnosians; and the cnosian government to me and nine others. and they desire us to give them any laws which we please, whether taken from the cretan model or from any other; and they do not mind about their being foreign if they are better. grant me then this favour, which will also be a gain to yourselves:--let us make a selection from what has been said, and then let us imagine a state of which we will suppose ourselves to be the original founders. thus we shall proceed with our enquiry, and, at the same time, i may have the use of the framework which you are constructing, for the city which is in contemplation. athenian: good news, cleinias; if megillus has no objection, you may be sure that i will do all in my power to please you. cleinias: thank you. megillus: and so will i. cleinias: excellent; and now let us begin to frame the state. book iv. athenian: and now, what will this city be? i do not mean to ask what is or will hereafter be the name of the place; that may be determined by the accident of locality or of the original settlement--a river or fountain, or some local deity may give the sanction of a name to the newly-founded city; but i do want to know what the situation is, whether maritime or inland. cleinias: i should imagine, stranger, that the city of which we are speaking is about eighty stadia distant from the sea. athenian: and are there harbours on the seaboard? cleinias: excellent harbours, stranger; there could not be better. athenian: alas! what a prospect! and is the surrounding country productive, or in need of importations? cleinias: hardly in need of anything. athenian: and is there any neighbouring state? cleinias: none whatever, and that is the reason for selecting the place; in days of old, there was a migration of the inhabitants, and the region has been deserted from time immemorial. athenian: and has the place a fair proportion of hill, and plain, and wood? cleinias: like the rest of crete in that. athenian: you mean to say that there is more rock than plain? cleinias: exactly. athenian: then there is some hope that your citizens may be virtuous: had you been on the sea, and well provided with harbours, and an importing rather than a producing country, some mighty saviour would have been needed, and lawgivers more than mortal, if you were ever to have a chance of preserving your state from degeneracy and discordance of manners (compare ar. pol.). but there is comfort in the eighty stadia; although the sea is too near, especially if, as you say, the harbours are so good. still we may be content. the sea is pleasant enough as a daily companion, but has indeed also a bitter and brackish quality; filling the streets with merchants and shopkeepers, and begetting in the souls of men uncertain and unfaithful ways--making the state unfriendly and unfaithful both to her own citizens, and also to other nations. there is a consolation, therefore, in the country producing all things at home; and yet, owing to the ruggedness of the soil, not providing anything in great abundance. had there been abundance, there might have been a great export trade, and a great return of gold and silver; which, as we may safely affirm, has the most fatal results on a state whose aim is the attainment of just and noble sentiments: this was said by us, if you remember, in the previous discussion. cleinias: i remember, and am of opinion that we both were and are in the right. athenian: well, but let me ask, how is the country supplied with timber for ship-building? cleinias: there is no fir of any consequence, nor pine, and not much cypress; and you will find very little stone-pine or plane-wood, which shipwrights always require for the interior of ships. athenian: these are also natural advantages. cleinias: why so? athenian: because no city ought to be easily able to imitate its enemies in what is mischievous. cleinias: how does that bear upon any of the matters of which we have been speaking? athenian: remember, my good friend, what i said at first about the cretan laws, that they looked to one thing only, and this, as you both agreed, was war; and i replied that such laws, in so far as they tended to promote virtue, were good; but in that they regarded a part only, and not the whole of virtue, i disapproved of them. and now i hope that you in your turn will follow and watch me if i legislate with a view to anything but virtue, or with a view to a part of virtue only. for i consider that the true lawgiver, like an archer, aims only at that on which some eternal beauty is always attending, and dismisses everything else, whether wealth or any other benefit, when separated from virtue. i was saying that the imitation of enemies was a bad thing; and i was thinking of a case in which a maritime people are harassed by enemies, as the athenians were by minos (i do not speak from any desire to recall past grievances); but he, as we know, was a great naval potentate, who compelled the inhabitants of attica to pay him a cruel tribute; and in those days they had no ships of war as they now have, nor was the country filled with ship-timber, and therefore they could not readily build them. hence they could not learn how to imitate their enemy at sea, and in this way, becoming sailors themselves, directly repel their enemies. better for them to have lost many times over the seven youths, than that heavy-armed and stationary troops should have been turned into sailors, and accustomed to be often leaping on shore, and again to come running back to their ships; or should have fancied that there was no disgrace in not awaiting the attack of an enemy and dying boldly; and that there were good reasons, and plenty of them, for a man throwing away his arms, and betaking himself to flight,--which is not dishonourable, as people say, at certain times. this is the language of naval warfare, and is anything but worthy of extraordinary praise. for we should not teach bad habits, least of all to the best part of the citizens. you may learn the evil of such a practice from homer, by whom odysseus is introduced, rebuking agamemnon, because he desires to draw down the ships to the sea at a time when the achaeans are hard pressed by the trojans,--he gets angry with him, and says: 'who, at a time when the battle is in full cry, biddest to drag the well-benched ships into the sea, that the prayers of the trojans may be accomplished yet more, and high ruin fall upon us. for the achaeans will not maintain the battle, when the ships are drawn into the sea, but they will look behind and will cease from strife; in that the counsel which you give will prove injurious.' you see that he quite knew triremes on the sea, in the neighbourhood of fighting men, to be an evil;--lions might be trained in that way to fly from a herd of deer. moreover, naval powers which owe their safety to ships, do not give honour to that sort of warlike excellence which is most deserving of it. for he who owes his safety to the pilot and the captain, and the oarsman, and all sorts of rather inferior persons, cannot rightly give honour to whom honour is due. but how can a state be in a right condition which cannot justly award honour? cleinias: it is hardly possible, i admit; and yet, stranger, we cretans are in the habit of saying that the battle of salamis was the salvation of hellas. athenian: why, yes; and that is an opinion which is widely spread both among hellenes and barbarians. but megillus and i say rather, that the battle of marathon was the beginning, and the battle of plataea the completion, of the great deliverance, and that these battles by land made the hellenes better; whereas the sea-fights of salamis and artemisium--for i may as well put them both together--made them no better, if i may say so without offence about the battles which helped to save us. and in estimating the goodness of a state, we regard both the situation of the country and the order of the laws, considering that the mere preservation and continuance of life is not the most honourable thing for men, as the vulgar think, but the continuance of the best life, while we live; and that again, if i am not mistaken, is a remark which has been made already. cleinias: yes. athenian: then we have only to ask, whether we are taking the course which we acknowledge to be the best for the settlement and legislation of states. cleinias: the best by far. athenian: and now let me proceed to another question: who are to be the colonists? may any one come out of all crete; and is the idea that the population in the several states is too numerous for the means of subsistence? for i suppose that you are not going to send out a general invitation to any hellene who likes to come. and yet i observe that to your country settlers have come from argos and aegina and other parts of hellas. tell me, then, whence do you draw your recruits in the present enterprise? cleinias: they will come from all crete; and of other hellenes, peloponnesians will be most acceptable. for, as you truly observe, there are cretans of argive descent; and the race of cretans which has the highest character at the present day is the gortynian, and this has come from gortys in the peloponnesus. athenian: cities find colonization in some respects easier if the colonists are one race, which like a swarm of bees is sent out from a single country, either when friends leave friends, owing to some pressure of population or other similar necessity, or when a portion of a state is driven by factions to emigrate. and there have been whole cities which have taken flight when utterly conquered by a superior power in war. this, however, which is in one way an advantage to the colonist or legislator, in another point of view creates a difficulty. there is an element of friendship in the community of race, and language, and laws, and in common temples and rites of worship; but colonies which are of this homogeneous sort are apt to kick against any laws or any form of constitution differing from that which they had at home; and although the badness of their own laws may have been the cause of the factions which prevailed among them, yet from the force of habit they would fain preserve the very customs which were their ruin, and the leader of the colony, who is their legislator, finds them troublesome and rebellious. on the other hand, the conflux of several populations might be more disposed to listen to new laws; but then, to make them combine and pull together, as they say of horses, is a most difficult task, and the work of years. and yet there is nothing which tends more to the improvement of mankind than legislation and colonization. cleinias: no doubt; but i should like to know why you say so. athenian: my good friend, i am afraid that the course of my speculations is leading me to say something depreciatory of legislators; but if the word be to the purpose, there can be no harm. and yet, why am i disquieted, for i believe that the same principle applies equally to all human things? cleinias: to what are you referring? athenian: i was going to say that man never legislates, but accidents of all sorts, which legislate for us in all sorts of ways. the violence of war and the hard necessity of poverty are constantly overturning governments and changing laws. and the power of disease has often caused innovations in the state, when there have been pestilences, or when there has been a succession of bad seasons continuing during many years. any one who sees all this, naturally rushes to the conclusion of which i was speaking, that no mortal legislates in anything, but that in human affairs chance is almost everything. and this may be said of the arts of the sailor, and the pilot, and the physician, and the general, and may seem to be well said; and yet there is another thing which may be said with equal truth of all of them. cleinias: what is it? athenian: that god governs all things, and that chance and opportunity co-operate with him in the government of human affairs. there is, however, a third and less extreme view, that art should be there also; for i should say that in a storm there must surely be a great advantage in having the aid of the pilot's art. you would agree? cleinias: yes. athenian: and does not a like principle apply to legislation as well as to other things: even supposing all the conditions to be favourable which are needed for the happiness of the state, yet the true legislator must from time to time appear on the scene? cleinias: most true. athenian: in each case the artist would be able to pray rightly for certain conditions, and if these were granted by fortune, he would then only require to exercise his art? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and all the other artists just now mentioned, if they were bidden to offer up each their special prayer, would do so? cleinias: of course. athenian: and the legislator would do likewise? cleinias: i believe that he would. athenian: 'come, legislator,' we will say to him; 'what are the conditions which you require in a state before you can organize it?' how ought he to answer this question? shall i give his answer? cleinias: yes. athenian: he will say--'give me a state which is governed by a tyrant, and let the tyrant be young and have a good memory; let him be quick at learning, and of a courageous and noble nature; let him have that quality which, as i said before, is the inseparable companion of all the other parts of virtue, if there is to be any good in them.' cleinias: i suppose, megillus, that this companion virtue of which the stranger speaks, must be temperance? athenian: yes, cleinias, temperance in the vulgar sense; not that which in the forced and exaggerated language of some philosophers is called prudence, but that which is the natural gift of children and animals, of whom some live continently and others incontinently, but when isolated, was, as we said, hardly worth reckoning in the catalogue of goods. i think that you must understand my meaning. cleinias: certainly. athenian: then our tyrant must have this as well as the other qualities, if the state is to acquire in the best manner and in the shortest time the form of government which is most conducive to happiness; for there neither is nor ever will be a better or speedier way of establishing a polity than by a tyranny. cleinias: by what possible arguments, stranger, can any man persuade himself of such a monstrous doctrine? athenian: there is surely no difficulty in seeing, cleinias, what is in accordance with the order of nature? cleinias: you would assume, as you say, a tyrant who was young, temperate, quick at learning, having a good memory, courageous, of a noble nature? athenian: yes; and you must add fortunate; and his good fortune must be that he is the contemporary of a great legislator, and that some happy chance brings them together. when this has been accomplished, god has done all that he ever does for a state which he desires to be eminently prosperous; he has done second best for a state in which there are two such rulers, and third best for a state in which there are three. the difficulty increases with the increase, and diminishes with the diminution of the number. cleinias: you mean to say, i suppose, that the best government is produced from a tyranny, and originates in a good lawgiver and an orderly tyrant, and that the change from such a tyranny into a perfect form of government takes place most easily; less easily when from an oligarchy; and, in the third degree, from a democracy: is not that your meaning? athenian: not so; i mean rather to say that the change is best made out of a tyranny; and secondly, out of a monarchy; and thirdly, out of some sort of democracy: fourth, in the capacity for improvement, comes oligarchy, which has the greatest difficulty in admitting of such a change, because the government is in the hands of a number of potentates. i am supposing that the legislator is by nature of the true sort, and that his strength is united with that of the chief men of the state; and when the ruling element is numerically small, and at the same time very strong, as in a tyranny, there the change is likely to be easiest and most rapid. cleinias: how? i do not understand. athenian: and yet i have repeated what i am saying a good many times; but i suppose that you have never seen a city which is under a tyranny? cleinias: no, and i cannot say that i have any great desire to see one. athenian: and yet, where there is a tyranny, you might certainly see that of which i am now speaking. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: i mean that you might see how, without trouble and in no very long period of time, the tyrant, if he wishes, can change the manners of a state: he has only to go in the direction of virtue or of vice, whichever he prefers, he himself indicating by his example the lines of conduct, praising and rewarding some actions and reproving others, and degrading those who disobey. cleinias: but how can we imagine that the citizens in general will at once follow the example set to them; and how can he have this power both of persuading and of compelling them? athenian: let no one, my friends, persuade us that there is any quicker and easier way in which states change their laws than when the rulers lead: such changes never have, nor ever will, come to pass in any other way. the real impossibility or difficulty is of another sort, and is rarely surmounted in the course of ages; but when once it is surmounted, ten thousand or rather all blessings follow. cleinias: of what are you speaking? athenian: the difficulty is to find the divine love of temperate and just institutions existing in any powerful forms of government, whether in a monarchy or oligarchy of wealth or of birth. you might as well hope to reproduce the character of nestor, who is said to have excelled all men in the power of speech, and yet more in his temperance. this, however, according to the tradition, was in the times of troy; in our own days there is nothing of the sort; but if such an one either has or ever shall come into being, or is now among us, blessed is he and blessed are they who hear the wise words that flow from his lips. and this may be said of power in general: when the supreme power in man coincides with the greatest wisdom and temperance, then the best laws and the best constitution come into being; but in no other way. and let what i have been saying be regarded as a kind of sacred legend or oracle, and let this be our proof that, in one point of view, there may be a difficulty for a city to have good laws, but that there is another point of view in which nothing can be easier or sooner effected, granting our supposition. cleinias: how do you mean? athenian: let us try to amuse ourselves, old boys as we are, by moulding in words the laws which are suitable to your state. cleinias: let us proceed without delay. athenian: then let us invoke god at the settlement of our state; may he hear and be propitious to us, and come and set in order the state and the laws! cleinias: may he come! athenian: but what form of polity are we going to give the city? cleinias: tell us what you mean a little more clearly. do you mean some form of democracy, or oligarchy, or aristocracy, or monarchy? for we cannot suppose that you would include tyranny. athenian: which of you will first tell me to which of these classes his own government is to be referred? megillus: ought i to answer first, since i am the elder? cleinias: perhaps you should. megillus: and yet, stranger, i perceive that i cannot say, without more thought, what i should call the government of lacedaemon, for it seems to me to be like a tyranny,--the power of our ephors is marvellously tyrannical; and sometimes it appears to me to be of all cities the most democratical; and who can reasonably deny that it is an aristocracy (compare ar. pol.)? we have also a monarchy which is held for life, and is said by all mankind, and not by ourselves only, to be the most ancient of all monarchies; and, therefore, when asked on a sudden, i cannot precisely say which form of government the spartan is. cleinias: i am in the same difficulty, megillus; for i do not feel confident that the polity of cnosus is any of these. athenian: the reason is, my excellent friends, that you really have polities, but the states of which we were just now speaking are merely aggregations of men dwelling in cities who are the subjects and servants of a part of their own state, and each of them is named after the dominant power; they are not polities at all. but if states are to be named after their rulers, the true state ought to be called by the name of the god who rules over wise men. cleinias: and who is this god? athenian: may i still make use of fable to some extent, in the hope that i may be better able to answer your question: shall i? cleinias: by all means. athenian: in the primeval world, and a long while before the cities came into being whose settlements we have described, there is said to have been in the time of cronos a blessed rule and life, of which the best-ordered of existing states is a copy (compare statesman). cleinias: it will be very necessary to hear about that. athenian: i quite agree with you; and therefore i have introduced the subject. cleinias: most appropriately; and since the tale is to the point, you will do well in giving us the whole story. athenian: i will do as you suggest. there is a tradition of the happy life of mankind in days when all things were spontaneous and abundant. and of this the reason is said to have been as follows:--cronos knew what we ourselves were declaring, that no human nature invested with supreme power is able to order human affairs and not overflow with insolence and wrong. which reflection led him to appoint not men but demigods, who are of a higher and more divine race, to be the kings and rulers of our cities; he did as we do with flocks of sheep and other tame animals. for we do not appoint oxen to be the lords of oxen, or goats of goats; but we ourselves are a superior race, and rule over them. in like manner god, in his love of mankind, placed over us the demons, who are a superior race, and they with great ease and pleasure to themselves, and no less to us, taking care of us and giving us peace and reverence and order and justice never failing, made the tribes of men happy and united. and this tradition, which is true, declares that cities of which some mortal man and not god is the ruler, have no escape from evils and toils. still we must do all that we can to imitate the life which is said to have existed in the days of cronos, and, as far as the principle of immortality dwells in us, to that we must hearken, both in private and public life, and regulate our cities and houses according to law, meaning by the very term 'law,' the distribution of mind. but if either a single person or an oligarchy or a democracy has a soul eager after pleasures and desires--wanting to be filled with them, yet retaining none of them, and perpetually afflicted with an endless and insatiable disorder; and this evil spirit, having first trampled the laws under foot, becomes the master either of a state or of an individual,--then, as i was saying, salvation is hopeless. and now, cleinias, we have to consider whether you will or will not accept this tale of mine. cleinias: certainly we will. athenian: you are aware,--are you not?--that there are often said to be as many forms of laws as there are of governments, and of the latter we have already mentioned all those which are commonly recognized. now you must regard this as a matter of first-rate importance. for what is to be the standard of just and unjust, is once more the point at issue. men say that the law ought not to regard either military virtue, or virtue in general, but only the interests and power and preservation of the established form of government; this is thought by them to be the best way of expressing the natural definition of justice. cleinias: how? athenian: justice is said by them to be the interest of the stronger (republic). cleinias: speak plainer. athenian: i will:--'surely,' they say, 'the governing power makes whatever laws have authority in any state'? cleinias: true. athenian: 'well,' they would add, 'and do you suppose that tyranny or democracy, or any other conquering power, does not make the continuance of the power which is possessed by them the first or principal object of their laws'? cleinias: how can they have any other? athenian: 'and whoever transgresses these laws is punished as an evil-doer by the legislator, who calls the laws just'? cleinias: naturally. athenian: 'this, then, is always the mode and fashion in which justice exists.' cleinias: certainly, if they are correct in their view. athenian: why, yes, this is one of those false principles of government to which we were referring. cleinias: which do you mean? athenian: those which we were examining when we spoke of who ought to govern whom. did we not arrive at the conclusion that parents ought to govern their children, and the elder the younger, and the noble the ignoble? and there were many other principles, if you remember, and they were not always consistent. one principle was this very principle of might, and we said that pindar considered violence natural and justified it. cleinias: yes; i remember. athenian: consider, then, to whom our state is to be entrusted. for there is a thing which has occurred times without number in states-- cleinias: what thing? athenian: that when there has been a contest for power, those who gain the upper hand so entirely monopolize the government, as to refuse all share to the defeated party and their descendants--they live watching one another, the ruling class being in perpetual fear that some one who has a recollection of former wrongs will come into power and rise up against them. now, according to our view, such governments are not polities at all, nor are laws right which are passed for the good of particular classes and not for the good of the whole state. states which have such laws are not polities but parties, and their notions of justice are simply unmeaning. i say this, because i am going to assert that we must not entrust the government in your state to any one because he is rich, or because he possesses any other advantage, such as strength, or stature, or again birth: but he who is most obedient to the laws of the state, he shall win the palm; and to him who is victorious in the first degree shall be given the highest office and chief ministry of the gods; and the second to him who bears the second palm; and on a similar principle shall all the other offices be assigned to those who come next in order. and when i call the rulers servants or ministers of the law, i give them this name not for the sake of novelty, but because i certainly believe that upon such service or ministry depends the well- or ill-being of the state. for that state in which the law is subject and has no authority, i perceive to be on the highway to ruin; but i see that the state in which the law is above the rulers, and the rulers are the inferiors of the law, has salvation, and every blessing which the gods can confer. cleinias: truly, stranger, you see with the keen vision of age. athenian: why, yes; every man when he is young has that sort of vision dullest, and when he is old keenest. cleinias: very true. athenian: and now, what is to be the next step? may we not suppose the colonists to have arrived, and proceed to make our speech to them? cleinias: certainly. athenian: 'friends,' we say to them,--'god, as the old tradition declares, holding in his hand the beginning, middle, and end of all that is, travels according to his nature in a straight line towards the accomplishment of his end. justice always accompanies him, and is the punisher of those who fall short of the divine law. to justice, he who would be happy holds fast, and follows in her company with all humility and order; but he who is lifted up with pride, or elated by wealth or rank, or beauty, who is young and foolish, and has a soul hot with insolence, and thinks that he has no need of any guide or ruler, but is able himself to be the guide of others, he, i say, is left deserted of god; and being thus deserted, he takes to him others who are like himself, and dances about, throwing all things into confusion, and many think that he is a great man, but in a short time he pays a penalty which justice cannot but approve, and is utterly destroyed, and his family and city with him. wherefore, seeing that human things are thus ordered, what should a wise man do or think, or not do or think'? cleinias: every man ought to make up his mind that he will be one of the followers of god; there can be no doubt of that. athenian: then what life is agreeable to god, and becoming in his followers? one only, expressed once for all in the old saying that 'like agrees with like, with measure measure,' but things which have no measure agree neither with themselves nor with the things which have. now god ought to be to us the measure of all things, and not man (compare crat.; theaet.), as men commonly say (protagoras): the words are far more true of him. and he who would be dear to god must, as far as is possible, be like him and such as he is. wherefore the temperate man is the friend of god, for he is like him; and the intemperate man is unlike him, and different from him, and unjust. and the same applies to other things; and this is the conclusion, which is also the noblest and truest of all sayings,--that for the good man to offer sacrifice to the gods, and hold converse with them by means of prayers and offerings and every kind of service, is the noblest and best of all things, and also the most conducive to a happy life, and very fit and meet. but with the bad man, the opposite of this is true: for the bad man has an impure soul, whereas the good is pure; and from one who is polluted, neither a good man nor god can without impropriety receive gifts. wherefore the unholy do only waste their much service upon the gods, but when offered by any holy man, such service is most acceptable to them. this is the mark at which we ought to aim. but what weapons shall we use, and how shall we direct them? in the first place, we affirm that next after the olympian gods and the gods of the state, honour should be given to the gods below; they should receive everything in even numbers, and of the second choice, and ill omen, while the odd numbers, and the first choice, and the things of lucky omen, are given to the gods above, by him who would rightly hit the mark of piety. next to these gods, a wise man will do service to the demons or spirits, and then to the heroes, and after them will follow the private and ancestral gods, who are worshipped as the law prescribes in the places which are sacred to them. next comes the honour of living parents, to whom, as is meet, we have to pay the first and greatest and oldest of all debts, considering that all which a man has belongs to those who gave him birth and brought him up, and that he must do all that he can to minister to them, first, in his property, secondly, in his person, and thirdly, in his soul, in return for the endless care and travail which they bestowed upon him of old, in the days of his infancy, and which he is now to pay back to them when they are old and in the extremity of their need. and all his life long he ought never to utter, or to have uttered, an unbecoming word to them; for of light and fleeting words the penalty is most severe; nemesis, the messenger of justice, is appointed to watch over all such matters. when they are angry and want to satisfy their feelings in word or deed, he should give way to them; for a father who thinks that he has been wronged by his son may be reasonably expected to be very angry. at their death, the most moderate funeral is best, neither exceeding the customary expense, nor yet falling short of the honour which has been usually shown by the former generation to their parents. and let a man not forget to pay the yearly tribute of respect to the dead, honouring them chiefly by omitting nothing that conduces to a perpetual remembrance of them, and giving a reasonable portion of his fortune to the dead. doing this, and living after this manner, we shall receive our reward from the gods and those who are above us (i.e. the demons); and we shall spend our days for the most part in good hope. and how a man ought to order what relates to his descendants and his kindred and friends and fellow-citizens, and the rites of hospitality taught by heaven, and the intercourse which arises out of all these duties, with a view to the embellishment and orderly regulation of his own life--these things, i say, the laws, as we proceed with them, will accomplish, partly persuading, and partly when natures do not yield to the persuasion of custom, chastising them by might and right, and will thus render our state, if the gods co-operate with us, prosperous and happy. but of what has to be said, and must be said by the legislator who is of my way of thinking, and yet, if said in the form of law, would be out of place--of this i think that he may give a sample for the instruction of himself and of those for whom he is legislating; and then when, as far as he is able, he has gone through all the preliminaries, he may proceed to the work of legislation. now, what will be the form of such prefaces? there may be a difficulty in including or describing them all under a single form, but i think that we may get some notion of them if we can guarantee one thing. cleinias: what is that? athenian: i should wish the citizens to be as readily persuaded to virtue as possible; this will surely be the aim of the legislator in all his laws. cleinias: certainly. athenian: the proposal appears to me to be of some value; and i think that a person will listen with more gentleness and good-will to the precepts addressed to him by the legislator, when his soul is not altogether unprepared to receive them. even a little done in the way of conciliation gains his ear, and is always worth having. for there is no great inclination or readiness on the part of mankind to be made as good, or as quickly good, as possible. the case of the many proves the wisdom of hesiod, who says that the road to wickedness is smooth and can be travelled without perspiring, because it is so very short: 'but before virtue the immortal gods have placed the sweat of labour, and long and steep is the way thither, and rugged at first; but when you have reached the top, although difficult before, it is then easy.' (works and days.) cleinias: yes; and he certainly speaks well. athenian: very true: and now let me tell you the effect which the preceding discourse has had upon me. cleinias: proceed. athenian: suppose that we have a little conversation with the legislator, and say to him--'o, legislator, speak; if you know what we ought to say and do, you can surely tell.' cleinias: of course he can. athenian: 'did we not hear you just now saying, that the legislator ought not to allow the poets to do what they liked? for that they would not know in which of their words they went against the laws, to the hurt of the state.' cleinias: that is true. athenian: may we not fairly make answer to him on behalf of the poets? cleinias: what answer shall we make to him? athenian: that the poet, according to the tradition which has ever prevailed among us, and is accepted of all men, when he sits down on the tripod of the muse, is not in his right mind; like a fountain, he allows to flow out freely whatever comes in, and his art being imitative, he is often compelled to represent men of opposite dispositions, and thus to contradict himself; neither can he tell whether there is more truth in one thing that he has said than in another. this is not the case in a law; the legislator must give not two rules about the same thing, but one only. take an example from what you have just been saying. of three kinds of funerals, there is one which is too extravagant, another is too niggardly, the third in a mean; and you choose and approve and order the last without qualification. but if i had an extremely rich wife, and she bade me bury her and describe her burial in a poem, i should praise the extravagant sort; and a poor miserly man, who had not much money to spend, would approve of the niggardly; and the man of moderate means, who was himself moderate, would praise a moderate funeral. now you in the capacity of legislator must not barely say 'a moderate funeral,' but you must define what moderation is, and how much; unless you are definite, you must not suppose that you are speaking a language that can become law. cleinias: certainly not. athenian: and is our legislator to have no preface to his laws, but to say at once do this, avoid that--and then holding the penalty in terrorem, to go on to another law; offering never a word of advice or exhortation to those for whom he is legislating, after the manner of some doctors? for of doctors, as i may remind you, some have a gentler, others a ruder method of cure; and as children ask the doctor to be gentle with them, so we will ask the legislator to cure our disorders with the gentlest remedies. what i mean to say is, that besides doctors there are doctors' servants, who are also styled doctors. cleinias: very true. athenian: and whether they are slaves or freemen makes no difference; they acquire their knowledge of medicine by obeying and observing their masters; empirically and not according to the natural way of learning, as the manner of freemen is, who have learned scientifically themselves the art which they impart scientifically to their pupils. you are aware that there are these two classes of doctors? cleinias: to be sure. athenian: and did you ever observe that there are two classes of patients in states, slaves and freemen; and the slave doctors run about and cure the slaves, or wait for them in the dispensaries--practitioners of this sort never talk to their patients individually, or let them talk about their own individual complaints? the slave doctor prescribes what mere experience suggests, as if he had exact knowledge; and when he has given his orders, like a tyrant, he rushes off with equal assurance to some other servant who is ill; and so he relieves the master of the house of the care of his invalid slaves. but the other doctor, who is a freeman, attends and practices upon freemen; and he carries his enquiries far back, and goes into the nature of the disorder; he enters into discourse with the patient and with his friends, and is at once getting information from the sick man, and also instructing him as far as he is able, and he will not prescribe for him until he has first convinced him; at last, when he has brought the patient more and more under his persuasive influences and set him on the road to health, he attempts to effect a cure. now which is the better way of proceeding in a physician and in a trainer? is he the better who accomplishes his ends in a double way, or he who works in one way, and that the ruder and inferior? cleinias: i should say, stranger, that the double way is far better. athenian: should you like to see an example of the double and single method in legislation? cleinias: certainly i should. athenian: what will be our first law? will not the legislator, observing the order of nature, begin by making regulations for states about births? cleinias: he will. athenian: in all states the birth of children goes back to the connexion of marriage? cleinias: very true. athenian: and, according to the true order, the laws relating to marriage should be those which are first determined in every state? cleinias: quite so. athenian: then let me first give the law of marriage in a simple form; it may run as follows:--a man shall marry between the ages of thirty and thirty-five, or, if he does not, he shall pay such and such a fine, or shall suffer the loss of such and such privileges. this would be the simple law about marriage. the double law would run thus:--a man shall marry between the ages of thirty and thirty-five, considering that in a manner the human race naturally partakes of immortality, which every man is by nature inclined to desire to the utmost; for the desire of every man that he may become famous, and not lie in the grave without a name, is only the love of continuance. now mankind are coeval with all time, and are ever following, and will ever follow, the course of time; and so they are immortal, because they leave children's children behind them, and partake of immortality in the unity of generation. and for a man voluntarily to deprive himself of this gift, as he deliberately does who will not have a wife or children, is impiety. he who obeys the law shall be free, and shall pay no fine; but he who is disobedient, and does not marry, when he has arrived at the age of thirty-five, shall pay a yearly fine of a certain amount, in order that he may not imagine his celibacy to bring ease and profit to him; and he shall not share in the honours which the young men in the state give to the aged. comparing now the two forms of the law, you will be able to arrive at a judgment about any other laws--whether they should be double in length even when shortest, because they have to persuade as well as threaten, or whether they shall only threaten and be of half the length. megillus: the shorter form, stranger, would be more in accordance with lacedaemonian custom; although, for my own part, if any one were to ask me which i myself prefer in the state, i should certainly determine in favour of the longer; and i would have every law made after the same pattern, if i had to choose. but i think that cleinias is the person to be consulted, for his is the state which is going to use these laws. cleinias: thank you, megillus. athenian: whether, in the abstract, words are to be many or few, is a very foolish question; the best form, and not the shortest, is to be approved; nor is length at all to be regarded. of the two forms of law which have been recited, the one is not only twice as good in practical usefulness as the other, but the case is like that of the two kinds of doctors, which i was just now mentioning. and yet legislators never appear to have considered that they have two instruments which they might use in legislation--persuasion and force; for in dealing with the rude and uneducated multitude, they use the one only as far as they can; they do not mingle persuasion with coercion, but employ force pure and simple. moreover, there is a third point, sweet friends, which ought to be, and never is, regarded in our existing laws. cleinias: what is it? athenian: a point arising out of our previous discussion, which comes into my mind in some mysterious way. all this time, from early dawn until noon, have we been talking about laws in this charming retreat: now we are going to promulgate our laws, and what has preceded was only the prelude of them. why do i mention this? for this reason:--because all discourses and vocal exercises have preludes and overtures, which are a sort of artistic beginnings intended to help the strain which is to be performed; lyric measures and music of every other kind have preludes framed with wonderful care. but of the truer and higher strain of law and politics, no one has ever yet uttered any prelude, or composed or published any, as though there was no such thing in nature. whereas our present discussion seems to me to imply that there is;--these double laws, of which we were speaking, are not exactly double, but they are in two parts, the law and the prelude of the law. the arbitrary command, which was compared to the commands of doctors, whom we described as of the meaner sort, was the law pure and simple; and that which preceded, and was described by our friend here as being hortatory only, was, although in fact, an exhortation, likewise analogous to the preamble of a discourse. for i imagine that all this language of conciliation, which the legislator has been uttering in the preface of the law, was intended to create good-will in the person whom he addressed, in order that, by reason of this good-will, he might more intelligently receive his command, that is to say, the law. and therefore, in my way of speaking, this is more rightly described as the preamble than as the matter of the law. and i must further proceed to observe, that to all his laws, and to each separately, the legislator should prefix a preamble; he should remember how great will be the difference between them, according as they have, or have not, such preambles, as in the case already given. cleinias: the lawgiver, if he asks my opinion, will certainly legislate in the form which you advise. athenian: i think that you are right, cleinias, in affirming that all laws have preambles, and that throughout the whole of this work of legislation every single law should have a suitable preamble at the beginning; for that which is to follow is most important, and it makes all the difference whether we clearly remember the preambles or not. yet we should be wrong in requiring that all laws, small and great alike, should have preambles of the same kind, any more than all songs or speeches; although they may be natural to all, they are not always necessary, and whether they are to be employed or not has in each case to be left to the judgment of the speaker or the musician, or, in the present instance, of the lawgiver. cleinias: that i think is most true. and now, stranger, without delay let us return to the argument, and, as people say in play, make a second and better beginning, if you please, with the principles which we have been laying down, which we never thought of regarding as a preamble before, but of which we may now make a preamble, and not merely consider them to be chance topics of discourse. let us acknowledge, then, that we have a preamble. about the honour of the gods and the respect of parents, enough has been already said; and we may proceed to the topics which follow next in order, until the preamble is deemed by you to be complete; and after that you shall go through the laws themselves. athenian: i understand you to mean that we have made a sufficient preamble about gods and demigods, and about parents living or dead; and now you would have us bring the rest of the subject into the light of day? cleinias: exactly. athenian: after this, as is meet and for the interest of us all, i the speaker, and you the listeners, will try to estimate all that relates to the souls and bodies and properties of the citizens, as regards both their occupations and amusements, and thus arrive, as far as in us lies, at the nature of education. these then are the topics which follow next in order. cleinias: very good. book v. athenian: listen, all ye who have just now heard the laws about gods, and about our dear forefathers:--of all the things which a man has, next to the gods, his soul is the most divine and most truly his own. now in every man there are two parts: the better and superior, which rules, and the worse and inferior, which serves; and the ruling part of him is always to be preferred to the subject. wherefore i am right in bidding every one next to the gods, who are our masters, and those who in order follow them (i.e. the demons), to honour his own soul, which every one seems to honour, but no one honours as he ought; for honour is a divine good, and no evil thing is honourable; and he who thinks that he can honour the soul by word or gift, or any sort of compliance, without making her in any way better, seems to honour her, but honours her not at all. for example, every man, from his very boyhood, fancies that he is able to know everything, and thinks that he honours his soul by praising her, and he is very ready to let her do whatever she may like. but i mean to say that in acting thus he injures his soul, and is far from honouring her; whereas, in our opinion, he ought to honour her as second only to the gods. again, when a man thinks that others are to be blamed, and not himself, for the errors which he has committed from time to time, and the many and great evils which befell him in consequence, and is always fancying himself to be exempt and innocent, he is under the idea that he is honouring his soul; whereas the very reverse is the fact, for he is really injuring her. and when, disregarding the word and approval of the legislator, he indulges in pleasure, then again he is far from honouring her; he only dishonours her, and fills her full of evil and remorse; or when he does not endure to the end the labours and fears and sorrows and pains which the legislator approves, but gives way before them, then, by yielding, he does not honour the soul, but by all such conduct he makes her to be dishonourable; nor when he thinks that life at any price is a good, does he honour her, but yet once more he dishonours her; for the soul having a notion that the world below is all evil, he yields to her, and does not resist and teach or convince her that, for aught she knows, the world of the gods below, instead of being evil, may be the greatest of all goods. again, when any one prefers beauty to virtue, what is this but the real and utter dishonour of the soul? for such a preference implies that the body is more honourable than the soul; and this is false, for there is nothing of earthly birth which is more honourable than the heavenly, and he who thinks otherwise of the soul has no idea how greatly he undervalues this wonderful possession; nor, again, when a person is willing, or not unwilling, to acquire dishonest gains, does he then honour his soul with gifts--far otherwise; he sells her glory and honour for a small piece of gold; but all the gold which is under or upon the earth is not enough to give in exchange for virtue. in a word, i may say that he who does not estimate the base and evil, the good and noble, according to the standard of the legislator, and abstain in every possible way from the one and practise the other to the utmost of his power, does not know that in all these respects he is most foully and disgracefully abusing his soul, which is the divinest part of man; for no one, as i may say, ever considers that which is declared to be the greatest penalty of evil-doing--namely, to grow into the likeness of bad men, and growing like them to fly from the conversation of the good, and be cut off from them, and cleave to and follow after the company of the bad. and he who is joined to them must do and suffer what such men by nature do and say to one another,--a suffering which is not justice but retribution; for justice and the just are noble, whereas retribution is the suffering which waits upon injustice; and whether a man escape or endure this, he is miserable,--in the former case, because he is not cured; while in the latter, he perishes in order that the rest of mankind may be saved. speaking generally, our glory is to follow the better and improve the inferior, which is susceptible of improvement, as far as this is possible. and of all human possessions, the soul is by nature most inclined to avoid the evil, and track out and find the chief good; which when a man has found, he should take up his abode with it during the remainder of his life. wherefore the soul also is second (or next to god) in honour; and third, as every one will perceive, comes the honour of the body in natural order. having determined this, we have next to consider that there is a natural honour of the body, and that of honours some are true and some are counterfeit. to decide which are which is the business of the legislator; and he, i suspect, would intimate that they are as follows:--honour is not to be given to the fair body, or to the strong or the swift or the tall, or to the healthy body (although many may think otherwise), any more than to their opposites; but the mean states of all these habits are by far the safest and most moderate; for the one extreme makes the soul braggart and insolent, and the other, illiberal and base; and money, and property, and distinction all go to the same tune. the excess of any of these things is apt to be a source of hatreds and divisions among states and individuals; and the defect of them is commonly a cause of slavery. and, therefore, i would not have any one fond of heaping up riches for the sake of his children, in order that he may leave them as rich as possible. for the possession of great wealth is of no use, either to them or to the state. the condition of youth which is free from flattery, and at the same time not in need of the necessaries of life, is the best and most harmonious of all, being in accord and agreement with our nature, and making life to be most entirely free from sorrow. let parents, then, bequeath to their children not a heap of riches, but the spirit of reverence. we, indeed, fancy that they will inherit reverence from us, if we rebuke them when they show a want of reverence. but this quality is not really imparted to them by the present style of admonition, which only tells them that the young ought always to be reverential. a sensible legislator will rather exhort the elders to reverence the younger, and above all to take heed that no young man sees or hears one of themselves doing or saying anything disgraceful; for where old men have no shame, there young men will most certainly be devoid of reverence. the best way of training the young is to train yourself at the same time; not to admonish them, but to be always carrying out your own admonitions in practice. he who honours his kindred, and reveres those who share in the same gods and are of the same blood and family, may fairly expect that the gods who preside over generation will be propitious to him, and will quicken his seed. and he who deems the services which his friends and acquaintances do for him, greater and more important than they themselves deem them, and his own favours to them less than theirs to him, will have their good-will in the intercourse of life. and surely in his relations to the state and his fellow citizens, he is by far the best, who rather than the olympic or any other victory of peace or war, desires to win the palm of obedience to the laws of his country, and who, of all mankind, is the person reputed to have obeyed them best through life. in his relations to strangers, a man should consider that a contract is a most holy thing, and that all concerns and wrongs of strangers are more directly dependent on the protection of god, than wrongs done to citizens; for the stranger, having no kindred and friends, is more to be pitied by gods and men. wherefore, also, he who is most able to avenge him is most zealous in his cause; and he who is most able is the genius and the god of the stranger, who follow in the train of zeus, the god of strangers. and for this reason, he who has a spark of caution in him, will do his best to pass through life without sinning against the stranger. and of offences committed, whether against strangers or fellow-countrymen, that against suppliants is the greatest. for the god who witnessed to the agreement made with the suppliant, becomes in a special manner the guardian of the sufferer; and he will certainly not suffer unavenged. thus we have fairly described the manner in which a man is to act about his parents, and himself, and his own affairs; and in relation to the state, and his friends, and kindred, both in what concerns his own countrymen, and in what concerns the stranger. we will now consider what manner of man he must be who would best pass through life in respect of those other things which are not matters of law, but of praise and blame only; in which praise and blame educate a man, and make him more tractable and amenable to the laws which are about to be imposed. truth is the beginning of every good thing, both to gods and men; and he who would be blessed and happy, should be from the first a partaker of the truth, that he may live a true man as long as possible, for then he can be trusted; but he is not to be trusted who loves voluntary falsehood, and he who loves involuntary falsehood is a fool. neither condition is enviable, for the untrustworthy and ignorant has no friend, and as time advances he becomes known, and lays up in store for himself isolation in crabbed age when life is on the wane: so that, whether his children or friends are alive or not, he is equally solitary.--worthy of honour is he who does no injustice, and of more than twofold honour, if he not only does no injustice himself, but hinders others from doing any; the first may count as one man, the second is worth many men, because he informs the rulers of the injustice of others. and yet more highly to be esteemed is he who co-operates with the rulers in correcting the citizens as far as he can--he shall be proclaimed the great and perfect citizen, and bear away the palm of virtue. the same praise may be given about temperance and wisdom, and all other goods which may be imparted to others, as well as acquired by a man for himself; he who imparts them shall be honoured as the man of men, and he who is willing, yet is not able, may be allowed the second place; but he who is jealous and will not, if he can help, allow others to partake in a friendly way of any good, is deserving of blame: the good, however, which he has, is not to be undervalued by us because it is possessed by him, but must be acquired by us also to the utmost of our power. let every man, then, freely strive for the prize of virtue, and let there be no envy. for the unenvious nature increases the greatness of states--he himself contends in the race, blasting the fair fame of no man; but the envious, who thinks that he ought to get the better by defaming others, is less energetic himself in the pursuit of true virtue, and reduces his rivals to despair by his unjust slanders of them. and so he makes the whole city to enter the arena untrained in the practice of virtue, and diminishes her glory as far as in him lies. now every man should be valiant, but he should also be gentle. from the cruel, or hardly curable, or altogether incurable acts of injustice done to him by others, a man can only escape by fighting and defending himself and conquering, and by never ceasing to punish them; and no man who is not of a noble spirit is able to accomplish this. as to the actions of those who do evil, but whose evil is curable, in the first place, let us remember that the unjust man is not unjust of his own free will. for no man of his own free will would choose to possess the greatest of evils, and least of all in the most honourable part of himself. and the soul, as we said, is of a truth deemed by all men the most honourable. in the soul, then, which is the most honourable part of him, no one, if he could help, would admit, or allow to continue the greatest of evils (compare republic). the unrighteous and vicious are always to be pitied in any case; and one can afford to forgive as well as pity him who is curable, and refrain and calm one's anger, not getting into a passion, like a woman, and nursing ill-feeling. but upon him who is incapable of reformation and wholly evil, the vials of our wrath should be poured out; wherefore i say that good men ought, when occasion demands, to be both gentle and passionate. of all evils the greatest is one which in the souls of most men is innate, and which a man is always excusing in himself and never correcting; i mean, what is expressed in the saying that 'every man by nature is and ought to be his own friend.' whereas the excessive love of self is in reality the source to each man of all offences; for the lover is blinded about the beloved, so that he judges wrongly of the just, the good, and the honourable, and thinks that he ought always to prefer himself to the truth. but he who would be a great man ought to regard, not himself or his interests, but what is just, whether the just act be his own or that of another. through a similar error men are induced to fancy that their own ignorance is wisdom, and thus we who may be truly said to know nothing, think that we know all things; and because we will not let others act for us in what we do not know, we are compelled to act amiss ourselves. wherefore let every man avoid excess of self-love, and condescend to follow a better man than himself, not allowing any false shame to stand in the way. there are also minor precepts which are often repeated, and are quite as useful; a man should recollect them and remind himself of them. for when a stream is flowing out, there should be water flowing in too; and recollection flows in while wisdom is departing. therefore i say that a man should refrain from excess either of laughter or tears, and should exhort his neighbour to do the same; he should veil his immoderate sorrow or joy, and seek to behave with propriety, whether the genius of his good fortune remains with him, or whether at the crisis of his fate, when he seems to be mounting high and steep places, the gods oppose him in some of his enterprises. still he may ever hope, in the case of good men, that whatever afflictions are to befall them in the future god will lessen, and that present evils he will change for the better; and as to the goods which are the opposite of these evils, he will not doubt that they will be added to them, and that they will be fortunate. such should be men's hopes, and such should be the exhortations with which they admonish one another, never losing an opportunity, but on every occasion distinctly reminding themselves and others of all these things, both in jest and earnest. enough has now been said of divine matters, both as touching the practices which men ought to follow, and as to the sort of persons who they ought severally to be. but of human things we have not as yet spoken, and we must; for to men we are discoursing and not to gods. pleasures and pains and desires are a part of human nature, and on them every mortal being must of necessity hang and depend with the most eager interest. and therefore we must praise the noblest life, not only as the fairest in appearance, but as being one which, if a man will only taste, and not, while still in his youth, desert for another, he will find to surpass also in the very thing which we all of us desire,--i mean in having a greater amount of pleasure and less of pain during the whole of life. and this will be plain, if a man has a true taste of them, as will be quickly and clearly seen. but what is a true taste? that we have to learn from the argument--the point being what is according to nature, and what is not according to nature. one life must be compared with another, the more pleasurable with the more painful, after this manner:--we desire to have pleasure, but we neither desire nor choose pain; and the neutral state we are ready to take in exchange, not for pleasure but for pain; and we also wish for less pain and greater pleasure, but less pleasure and greater pain we do not wish for; and an equal balance of either we cannot venture to assert that we should desire. and all these differ or do not differ severally in number and magnitude and intensity and equality, and in the opposites of these when regarded as objects of choice, in relation to desire. and such being the necessary order of things, we wish for that life in which there are many great and intense elements of pleasure and pain, and in which the pleasures are in excess, and do not wish for that in which the opposites exceed; nor, again, do we wish for that in which the elements of either are small and few and feeble, and the pains exceed. and when, as i said before, there is a balance of pleasure and pain in life, this is to be regarded by us as the balanced life; while other lives are preferred by us because they exceed in what we like, or are rejected by us because they exceed in what we dislike. all the lives of men may be regarded by us as bound up in these, and we must also consider what sort of lives we by nature desire. and if we wish for any others, i say that we desire them only through some ignorance and inexperience of the lives which actually exist. now, what lives are they, and how many in which, having searched out and beheld the objects of will and desire and their opposites, and making of them a law, choosing, i say, the dear and the pleasant and the best and noblest, a man may live in the happiest way possible? let us say that the temperate life is one kind of life, and the rational another, and the courageous another, and the healthful another; and to these four let us oppose four other lives--the foolish, the cowardly, the intemperate, the diseased. he who knows the temperate life will describe it as in all things gentle, having gentle pains and gentle pleasures, and placid desires and loves not insane; whereas the intemperate life is impetuous in all things, and has violent pains and pleasures, and vehement and stinging desires, and loves utterly insane; and in the temperate life the pleasures exceed the pains, but in the intemperate life the pains exceed the pleasures in greatness and number and frequency. hence one of the two lives is naturally and necessarily more pleasant and the other more painful, and he who would live pleasantly cannot possibly choose to live intemperately. and if this is true, the inference clearly is that no man is voluntarily intemperate; but that the whole multitude of men lack temperance in their lives, either from ignorance, or from want of self-control, or both. and the same holds of the diseased and healthy life; they both have pleasures and pains, but in health the pleasure exceeds the pain, and in sickness the pain exceeds the pleasure. now our intention in choosing the lives is not that the painful should exceed, but the life in which pain is exceeded by pleasure we have determined to be the more pleasant life. and we should say that the temperate life has the elements both of pleasure and pain fewer and smaller and less frequent than the intemperate, and the wise life than the foolish life, and the life of courage than the life of cowardice; one of each pair exceeding in pleasure and the other in pain, the courageous surpassing the cowardly, and the wise exceeding the foolish. and so the one class of lives exceeds the other class in pleasure; the temperate and courageous and wise and healthy exceed the cowardly and foolish and intemperate and diseased lives; and generally speaking, that which has any virtue, whether of body or soul, is pleasanter than the vicious life, and far superior in beauty and rectitude and excellence and reputation, and causes him who lives accordingly to be infinitely happier than the opposite. enough of the preamble; and now the laws should follow; or, to speak more correctly, an outline of them. as, then, in the case of a web or any other tissue, the warp and the woof cannot be made of the same materials (compare statesman), but the warp is necessarily superior as being stronger, and having a certain character of firmness, whereas the woof is softer and has a proper degree of elasticity;--in a similar manner those who are to hold great offices in states, should be distinguished truly in each case from those who have been but slenderly proven by education. let us suppose that there are two parts in the constitution of a state--one the creation of offices, the other the laws which are assigned to them to administer. but, before all this, comes the following consideration:--the shepherd or herdsman, or breeder of horses or the like, when he has received his animals will not begin to train them until he has first purified them in a manner which befits a community of animals; he will divide the healthy and unhealthy, and the good breed and the bad breed, and will send away the unhealthy and badly bred to other herds, and tend the rest, reflecting that his labours will be vain and have no effect, either on the souls or bodies of those whom nature and ill nurture have corrupted, and that they will involve in destruction the pure and healthy nature and being of every other animal, if he should neglect to purify them. now the case of other animals is not so important--they are only worth introducing for the sake of illustration; but what relates to man is of the highest importance; and the legislator should make enquiries, and indicate what is proper for each one in the way of purification and of any other procedure. take, for example, the purification of a city--there are many kinds of purification, some easier and others more difficult; and some of them, and the best and most difficult of them, the legislator, if he be also a despot, may be able to effect; but the legislator, who, not being a despot, sets up a new government and laws, even if he attempt the mildest of purgations, may think himself happy if he can complete his work. the best kind of purification is painful, like similar cures in medicine, involving righteous punishment and inflicting death or exile in the last resort. for in this way we commonly dispose of great sinners who are incurable, and are the greatest injury of the whole state. but the milder form of purification is as follows:--when men who have nothing, and are in want of food, show a disposition to follow their leaders in an attack on the property of the rich--these, who are the natural plague of the state, are sent away by the legislator in a friendly spirit as far as he is able; and this dismissal of them is euphemistically termed a colony. and every legislator should contrive to do this at once. our present case, however, is peculiar. for there is no need to devise any colony or purifying separation under the circumstances in which we are placed. but as, when many streams flow together from many sources, whether springs or mountain torrents, into a single lake, we ought to attend and take care that the confluent waters should be perfectly clear, and in order to effect this, should pump and draw off and divert impurities, so in every political arrangement there may be trouble and danger. but, seeing that we are now only discoursing and not acting, let our selection be supposed to be completed, and the desired purity attained. touching evil men, who want to join and be citizens of our state, after we have tested them by every sort of persuasion and for a sufficient time, we will prevent them from coming; but the good we will to the utmost of our ability receive as friends with open arms. another piece of good fortune must not be forgotten, which, as we were saying, the heraclid colony had, and which is also ours,--that we have escaped division of land and the abolition of debts; for these are always a source of dangerous contention, and a city which is driven by necessity to legislate upon such matters can neither allow the old ways to continue, nor yet venture to alter them. we must have recourse to prayers, so to speak, and hope that a slight change may be cautiously effected in a length of time. and such a change can be accomplished by those who have abundance of land, and having also many debtors, are willing, in a kindly spirit, to share with those who are in want, sometimes remitting and sometimes giving, holding fast in a path of moderation, and deeming poverty to be the increase of a man's desires and not the diminution of his property. for this is the great beginning of salvation to a state, and upon this lasting basis may be erected afterwards whatever political order is suitable under the circumstances; but if the change be based upon an unsound principle, the future administration of the country will be full of difficulties. that is a danger which, as i am saying, is escaped by us, and yet we had better say how, if we had not escaped, we might have escaped; and we may venture now to assert that no other way of escape, whether narrow or broad, can be devised but freedom from avarice and a sense of justice--upon this rock our city shall be built; for there ought to be no disputes among citizens about property. if there are quarrels of long standing among them, no legislator of any degree of sense will proceed a step in the arrangement of the state until they are settled. but that they to whom god has given, as he has to us, to be the founders of a new state as yet free from enmity--that they should create themselves enmities by their mode of distributing lands and houses, would be superhuman folly and wickedness. how then can we rightly order the distribution of the land? in the first place, the number of the citizens has to be determined, and also the number and size of the divisions into which they will have to be formed; and the land and the houses will then have to be apportioned by us as fairly as we can. the number of citizens can only be estimated satisfactorily in relation to the territory and the neighbouring states. the territory must be sufficient to maintain a certain number of inhabitants in a moderate way of life--more than this is not required; and the number of citizens should be sufficient to defend themselves against the injustice of their neighbours, and also to give them the power of rendering efficient aid to their neighbours when they are wronged. after having taken a survey of their's and their neighbours' territory, we will determine the limits of them in fact as well as in theory. and now, let us proceed to legislate with a view to perfecting the form and outline of our state. the number of our citizens shall be --this will be a convenient number; and these shall be owners of the land and protectors of the allotment. the houses and the land will be divided in the same way, so that every man may correspond to a lot. let the whole number be first divided into two parts, and then into three; and the number is further capable of being divided into four or five parts, or any number of parts up to ten. every legislator ought to know so much arithmetic as to be able to tell what number is most likely to be useful to all cities; and we are going to take that number which contains the greatest and most regular and unbroken series of divisions. the whole of number has every possible division, and the number can be divided by exactly fifty-nine divisors, and ten of these proceed without interval from one to ten: this will furnish numbers for war and peace, and for all contracts and dealings, including taxes and divisions of the land. these properties of number should be ascertained at leisure by those who are bound by law to know them; for they are true, and should be proclaimed at the foundation of the city, with a view to use. whether the legislator is establishing a new state or restoring an old and decayed one, in respect of gods and temples,--the temples which are to be built in each city, and the gods or demi-gods after whom they are to be called,--if he be a man of sense, he will make no change in anything which the oracle of delphi, or dodona, or the god ammon, or any ancient tradition has sanctioned in whatever manner, whether by apparitions or reputed inspiration of heaven, in obedience to which mankind have established sacrifices in connexion with mystic rites, either originating on the spot, or derived from tyrrhenia or cyprus or some other place, and on the strength of which traditions they have consecrated oracles and images, and altars and temples, and portioned out a sacred domain for each of them. the least part of all these ought not to be disturbed by the legislator; but he should assign to the several districts some god, or demi-god, or hero, and, in the distribution of the soil, should give to these first their chosen domain and all things fitting, that the inhabitants of the several districts may meet at fixed times, and that they may readily supply their various wants, and entertain one another with sacrifices, and become friends and acquaintances; for there is no greater good in a state than that the citizens should be known to one another. when not light but darkness and ignorance of each other's characters prevails among them, no one will receive the honour of which he is deserving, or the power or the justice to which he is fairly entitled: wherefore, in every state, above all things, every man should take heed that he have no deceit in him, but that he be always true and simple; and that no deceitful person take any advantage of him. the next move in our pastime of legislation, like the withdrawal of the stone from the holy line in the game of draughts, being an unusual one, will probably excite wonder when mentioned for the first time. and yet, if a man will only reflect and weigh the matter with care, he will see that our city is ordered in a manner which, if not the best, is the second best. perhaps also some one may not approve this form, because he thinks that such a constitution is ill adapted to a legislator who has not despotic power. the truth is, that there are three forms of government, the best, the second and the third best, which we may just mention, and then leave the selection to the ruler of the settlement. following this method in the present instance, let us speak of the states which are respectively first, second, and third in excellence, and then we will leave the choice to cleinias now, or to any one else who may hereafter have to make a similar choice among constitutions, and may desire to give to his state some feature which is congenial to him and which he approves in his own country. the first and highest form of the state and of the government and of the law is that in which there prevails most widely the ancient saying, that 'friends have all things in common.' whether there is anywhere now, or will ever be, this communion of women and children and of property, in which the private and individual is altogether banished from life, and things which are by nature private, such as eyes and ears and hands, have become common, and in some way see and hear and act in common, and all men express praise and blame and feel joy and sorrow on the same occasions, and whatever laws there are unite the city to the utmost (compare republic),--whether all this is possible or not, i say that no man, acting upon any other principle, will ever constitute a state which will be truer or better or more exalted in virtue. whether such a state is governed by gods or sons of gods, one, or more than one, happy are the men who, living after this manner, dwell there; and therefore to this we are to look for the pattern of the state, and to cling to this, and to seek with all our might for one which is like this. the state which we have now in hand, when created, will be nearest to immortality and the only one which takes the second place; and after that, by the grace of god, we will complete the third one. and we will begin by speaking of the nature and origin of the second. let the citizens at once distribute their land and houses, and not till the land in common, since a community of goods goes beyond their proposed origin, and nurture, and education. but in making the distribution, let the several possessors feel that their particular lots also belong to the whole city; and seeing that the earth is their parent, let them tend her more carefully than children do their mother. for she is a goddess and their queen, and they are her mortal subjects. such also are the feelings which they ought to entertain to the gods and demi-gods of the country. and in order that the distribution may always remain, they ought to consider further that the present number of families should be always retained, and neither increased nor diminished. this may be secured for the whole city in the following manner:--let the possessor of a lot leave the one of his children who is his best beloved, and one only, to be the heir of his dwelling, and his successor in the duty of ministering to the gods, the state and the family, as well the living members of it as those who are departed when he comes into the inheritance; but of his other children, if he have more than one, he shall give the females in marriage according to the law to be hereafter enacted, and the males he shall distribute as sons to those citizens who have no children, and are disposed to receive them; or if there should be none such, and particular individuals have too many children, male or female, or too few, as in the case of barrenness--in all these cases let the highest and most honourable magistracy created by us judge and determine what is to be done with the redundant or deficient, and devise a means that the number of houses shall always remain the same. there are many ways of regulating numbers; for they in whom generation is affluent may be made to refrain (compare arist. pol.), and, on the other hand, special care may be taken to increase the number of births by rewards and stigmas, or we may meet the evil by the elder men giving advice and administering rebuke to the younger--in this way the object may be attained. and if after all there be very great difficulty about the equal preservation of the houses, and there be an excess of citizens, owing to the too great love of those who live together, and we are at our wits' end, there is still the old device often mentioned by us of sending out a colony, which will part friends with us, and be composed of suitable persons. if, on the other hand, there come a wave bearing a deluge of disease, or a plague of war, and the inhabitants become much fewer than the appointed number by reason of bereavement, we ought not to introduce citizens of spurious birth and education, if this can be avoided; but even god is said not to be able to fight against necessity. wherefore let us suppose this 'high argument' of ours to address us in the following terms:--best of men, cease not to honour according to nature similarity and equality and sameness and agreement, as regards number and every good and noble quality. and, above all, observe the aforesaid number throughout life; in the second place, do not disparage the small and modest proportions of the inheritances which you received in the distribution, by buying and selling them to one another. for then neither will the god who gave you the lot be your friend, nor will the legislator; and indeed the law declares to the disobedient that these are the terms upon which he may or may not take the lot. in the first place, the earth as he is informed is sacred to the gods; and in the next place, priests and priestesses will offer up prayers over a first, and second, and even a third sacrifice, that he who buys or sells the houses or lands which he has received, may suffer the punishment which he deserves; and these their prayers they shall write down in the temples, on tablets of cypress-wood, for the instruction of posterity. moreover they will set a watch over all these things, that they may be observed;--the magistracy which has the sharpest eyes shall keep watch that any infringement of these commands may be discovered and punished as offences both against the law and the god. how great is the benefit of such an ordinance to all those cities, which obey and are administered accordingly, no bad man can ever know, as the old proverb says; but only a man of experience and good habits. for in such an order of things there will not be much opportunity for making money; no man either ought, or indeed will be allowed, to exercise any ignoble occupation, of which the vulgarity is a matter of reproach to a freeman, and should never want to acquire riches by any such means. further, the law enjoins that no private man shall be allowed to possess gold and silver, but only coin for daily use, which is almost necessary in dealing with artisans, and for payment of hirelings, whether slaves or immigrants, by all those persons who require the use of them. wherefore our citizens, as we say, should have a coin passing current among themselves, but not accepted among the rest of mankind; with a view, however, to expeditions and journeys to other lands,--for embassies, or for any other occasion which may arise of sending out a herald, the state must also possess a common hellenic currency. if a private person is ever obliged to go abroad, let him have the consent of the magistrates and go; and if when he returns he has any foreign money remaining, let him give the surplus back to the treasury, and receive a corresponding sum in the local currency. and if he is discovered to appropriate it, let it be confiscated, and let him who knows and does not inform be subject to curse and dishonour equally him who brought the money, and also to a fine not less in amount than the foreign money which has been brought back. in marrying and giving in marriage, no one shall give or receive any dowry at all; and no one shall deposit money with another whom he does not trust as a friend, nor shall he lend money upon interest; and the borrower should be under no obligation to repay either capital or interest. that these principles are best, any one may see who compares them with the first principle and intention of a state. the intention, as we affirm, of a reasonable statesman, is not what the many declare to be the object of a good legislator, namely, that the state for the true interests of which he is advising should be as great and as rich as possible, and should possess gold and silver, and have the greatest empire by sea and land;--this they imagine to be the real object of legislation, at the same time adding, inconsistently, that the true legislator desires to have the city the best and happiest possible. but they do not see that some of these things are possible, and some of them are impossible; and he who orders the state will desire what is possible, and will not indulge in vain wishes or attempts to accomplish that which is impossible. the citizen must indeed be happy and good, and the legislator will seek to make him so; but very rich and very good at the same time he cannot be, not, at least, in the sense in which the many speak of riches. for they mean by 'the rich' the few who have the most valuable possessions, although the owner of them may quite well be a rogue. and if this is true, i can never assent to the doctrine that the rich man will be happy--he must be good as well as rich. and good in a high degree, and rich in a high degree at the same time, he cannot be. some one will ask, why not? and we shall answer--because acquisitions which come from sources which are just and unjust indifferently, are more than double those which come from just sources only; and the sums which are expended neither honourably nor disgracefully, are only half as great as those which are expended honourably and on honourable purposes. thus, if the one acquires double and spends half, the other who is in the opposite case and is a good man cannot possibly be wealthier than he. the first--i am speaking of the saver and not of the spender--is not always bad; he may indeed in some cases be utterly bad, but, as i was saying, a good man he never is. for he who receives money unjustly as well as justly, and spends neither nor unjustly, will be a rich man if he be also thrifty. on the other hand, the utterly bad is in general profligate, and therefore very poor; while he who spends on noble objects, and acquires wealth by just means only, can hardly be remarkable for riches, any more than he can be very poor. our statement, then, is true, that the very rich are not good, and, if they are not good, they are not happy. but the intention of our laws was, that the citizens should be as happy as may be, and as friendly as possible to one another. and men who are always at law with one another, and amongst whom there are many wrongs done, can never be friends to one another, but only those among whom crimes and lawsuits are few and slight. therefore we say that gold and silver ought not to be allowed in the city, nor much of the vulgar sort of trade which is carried on by lending money, or rearing the meaner kinds of live stock; but only the produce of agriculture, and only so much of this as will not compel us in pursuing it to neglect that for the sake of which riches exist--i mean, soul and body, which without gymnastics, and without education, will never be worth anything; and therefore, as we have said not once but many times, the care of riches should have the last place in our thoughts. for there are in all three things about which every man has an interest; and the interest about money, when rightly regarded, is the third and lowest of them: midway comes the interest of the body; and, first of all, that of the soul; and the state which we are describing will have been rightly constituted if it ordains honours according to this scale. but if, in any of the laws which have been ordained, health has been preferred to temperance, or wealth to health and temperate habits, that law must clearly be wrong. wherefore, also, the legislator ought often to impress upon himself the question--'what do i want?' and 'do i attain my aim, or do i miss the mark?' in this way, and in this way only, he may acquit himself and free others from the work of legislation. let the allottee then hold his lot upon the conditions which we have mentioned. it would be well that every man should come to the colony having all things equal; but seeing that this is not possible, and one man will have greater possessions than another, for many reasons and in particular in order to preserve equality in special crises of the state, qualifications of property must be unequal, in order that offices and contributions and distributions may be proportioned to the value of each person's wealth, and not solely to the virtue of his ancestors or himself, nor yet to the strength and beauty of his person, but also to the measure of his wealth or poverty; and so by a law of inequality, which will be in proportion to his wealth, he will receive honours and offices as equally as possible, and there will be no quarrels and disputes. to which end there should be four different standards appointed according to the amount of property: there should be a first and a second and a third and a fourth class, in which the citizens will be placed, and they will be called by these or similar names: they may continue in the same rank, or pass into another in any individual case, on becoming richer from being poorer, or poorer from being richer. the form of law which i should propose as the natural sequel would be as follows:--in a state which is desirous of being saved from the greatest of all plagues--not faction, but rather distraction;--there should exist among the citizens neither extreme poverty, nor, again, excess of wealth, for both are productive of both these evils. now the legislator should determine what is to be the limit of poverty or wealth. let the limit of poverty be the value of the lot; this ought to be preserved, and no ruler, nor any one else who aspires after a reputation for virtue, will allow the lot to be impaired in any case. this the legislator gives as a measure, and he will permit a man to acquire double or triple, or as much as four times the amount of this (compare arist. pol.). but if a person have yet greater riches, whether he has found them, or they have been given to him, or he has made them in business, or has acquired by any stroke of fortune that which is in excess of the measure, if he give back the surplus to the state, and to the gods who are the patrons of the state, he shall suffer no penalty or loss of reputation; but if he disobeys this our law, any one who likes may inform against him and receive half the value of the excess, and the delinquent shall pay a sum equal to the excess out of his own property, and the other half of the excess shall belong to the gods. and let every possession of every man, with the exception of the lot, be publicly registered before the magistrates whom the law appoints, so that all suits about money may be easy and quite simple. the next thing to be noted is, that the city should be placed as nearly as possible in the centre of the country; we should choose a place which possesses what is suitable for a city, and this may easily be imagined and described. then we will divide the city into twelve portions, first founding temples to hestia, to zeus and to athene, in a spot which we will call the acropolis, and surround with a circular wall, making the division of the entire city and country radiate from this point. the twelve portions shall be equalized by the provision that those which are of good land shall be smaller, while those of inferior quality shall be larger. the number of the lots shall be , and each of them shall be divided into two, and every allotment shall be composed of two such sections; one of land near the city, the other of land which is at a distance (compare arist. pol.). this arrangement shall be carried out in the following manner: the section which is near the city shall be added to that which is on the borders, and form one lot, and the portion which is next nearest shall be added to the portion which is next farthest; and so of the rest. moreover, in the two sections of the lots the same principle of equalization of the soil ought to be maintained; the badness and goodness shall be compensated by more and less. and the legislator shall divide the citizens into twelve parts, and arrange the rest of their property, as far as possible, so as to form twelve equal parts; and there shall be a registration of all. after this they shall assign twelve lots to twelve gods, and call them by their names, and dedicate to each god their several portions, and call the tribes after them. and they shall distribute the twelve divisions of the city in the same way in which they divided the country; and every man shall have two habitations, one in the centre of the country, and the other at the extremity. enough of the manner of settlement. now we ought by all means to consider that there can never be such a happy concurrence of circumstances as we have described; neither can all things coincide as they are wanted. men who will not take offence at such a mode of living together, and will endure all their life long to have their property fixed at a moderate limit, and to beget children in accordance with our ordinances, and will allow themselves to be deprived of gold and other things which the legislator, as is evident from these enactments, will certainly forbid them; and will endure, further, the situation of the land with the city in the middle and dwellings round about;--all this is as if the legislator were telling his dreams, or making a city and citizens of wax. there is truth in these objections, and therefore every one should take to heart what i am going to say. once more, then, the legislator shall appear and address us:--'o my friends,' he will say to us, 'do not suppose me ignorant that there is a certain degree of truth in your words; but i am of opinion that, in matters which are not present but future, he who exhibits a pattern of that at which he aims, should in nothing fall short of the fairest and truest; and that if he finds any part of this work impossible of execution he should avoid and not execute it, but he should contrive to carry out that which is nearest and most akin to it; you must allow the legislator to perfect his design, and when it is perfected, you should join with him in considering what part of his legislation is expedient and what will arouse opposition; for surely the artist who is to be deemed worthy of any regard at all, ought always to make his work self-consistent.' having determined that there is to be a distribution into twelve parts, let us now see in what way this may be accomplished. there is no difficulty in perceiving that the twelve parts admit of the greatest number of divisions of that which they include, or in seeing the other numbers which are consequent upon them, and are produced out of them up to ; wherefore the law ought to order phratries and demes and villages, and also military ranks and movements, as well as coins and measures, dry and liquid, and weights, so as to be commensurable and agreeable to one another. nor should we fear the appearance of minuteness, if the law commands that all the vessels which a man possesses should have a common measure, when we consider generally that the divisions and variations of numbers have a use in respect of all the variations of which they are susceptible, both in themselves and as measures of height and depth, and in all sounds, and in motions, as well those which proceed in a straight direction, upwards or downwards, as in those which go round and round. the legislator is to consider all these things and to bid the citizens, as far as possible, not to lose sight of numerical order; for no single instrument of youthful education has such mighty power, both as regards domestic economy and politics, and in the arts, as the study of arithmetic. above all, arithmetic stirs up him who is by nature sleepy and dull, and makes him quick to learn, retentive, shrewd, and aided by art divine he makes progress quite beyond his natural powers (compare republic). all such things, if only the legislator, by other laws and institutions, can banish meanness and covetousness from the souls of men, so that they can use them properly and to their own good, will be excellent and suitable instruments of education. but if he cannot, he will unintentionally create in them, instead of wisdom, the habit of craft, which evil tendency may be observed in the egyptians and phoenicians, and many other races, through the general vulgarity of their pursuits and acquisitions, whether some unworthy legislator of theirs has been the cause, or some impediment of chance or nature. for we must not fail to observe, o megillus and cleinias, that there is a difference in places, and that some beget better men and others worse; and we must legislate accordingly. some places are subject to strange and fatal influences by reason of diverse winds and violent heats, some by reason of waters; or, again, from the character of the food given by the earth, which not only affects the bodies of men for good or evil, but produces similar results in their souls. and in all such qualities those spots excel in which there is a divine inspiration, and in which the demigods have their appointed lots, and are propitious, not adverse, to the settlers in them. to all these matters the legislator, if he have any sense in him, will attend as far as man can, and frame his laws accordingly. and this is what you, cleinias, must do, and to matters of this kind you must turn your mind since you are going to colonize a new country. cleinias: your words, athenian stranger, are excellent, and i will do as you say. book vi. athenian: and now having made an end of the preliminaries we will proceed to the appointment of magistracies. cleinias: very good. athenian: in the ordering of a state there are two parts: first, the number of the magistracies, and the mode of establishing them; and, secondly, when they have been established, laws again will have to be provided for each of them, suitable in nature and number. but before electing the magistrates let us stop a little and say a word in season about the election of them. cleinias: what have you got to say? athenian: this is what i have to say;--every one can see, that although the work of legislation is a most important matter, yet if a well-ordered city superadd to good laws unsuitable offices, not only will there be no use in having the good laws,--not only will they be ridiculous and useless, but the greatest political injury and evil will accrue from them. cleinias: of course. athenian: then now, my friend, let us observe what will happen in the constitution of out intended state. in the first place, you will acknowledge that those who are duly appointed to magisterial power, and their families, should severally have given satisfactory proof of what they are, from youth upward until the time of election; in the next place, those who are to elect should have been trained in habits of law, and be well educated, that they may have a right judgment, and may be able to select or reject men whom they approve or disapprove, as they are worthy of either. but how can we imagine that those who are brought together for the first time, and are strangers to one another, and also uneducated, will avoid making mistakes in the choice of magistrates? cleinias: impossible. athenian: the matter is serious, and excuses will not serve the turn. i will tell you, then, what you and i will have to do, since you, as you tell me, with nine others, have offered to settle the new state on behalf of the people of crete, and i am to help you by the invention of the present romance. i certainly should not like to leave the tale wandering all over the world without a head;--a headless monster is such a hideous thing. cleinias: excellent, stranger. athenian: yes; and i will be as good as my word. cleinias: let us by all means do as you propose. athenian: that we will, by the grace of god, if old age will only permit us. cleinias: but god will be gracious. athenian: yes; and under his guidance let us consider a further point. cleinias: what is it? athenian: let us remember what a courageously mad and daring creation this our city is. cleinias: what had you in your mind when you said that? athenian: i had in my mind the free and easy manner in which we are ordaining that the inexperienced colonists shall receive our laws. now a man need not be very wise, cleinias, in order to see that no one can easily receive laws at their first imposition. but if we could anyhow wait until those who have been imbued with them from childhood, and have been nurtured in them, and become habituated to them, take their part in the public elections of the state; i say, if this could be accomplished, and rightly accomplished by any way or contrivance--then, i think that there would be very little danger, at the end of the time, of a state thus trained not being permanent. cleinias: a reasonable supposition. athenian: then let us consider if we can find any way out of the difficulty; for i maintain, cleinias, that the cnosians, above all the other cretans, should not be satisfied with barely discharging their duty to the colony, but they ought to take the utmost pains to establish the offices which are first created by them in the best and surest manner. above all, this applies to the selection of the guardians of the law, who must be chosen first of all, and with the greatest care; the others are of less importance. cleinias: what method can we devise of electing them? athenian: this will be the method:--sons of the cretans, i shall say to them, inasmuch as the cnosians have precedence over the other states, they should, in common with those who join this settlement, choose a body of thirty-seven in all, nineteen of them being taken from the settlers, and the remainder from the citizens of cnosus. of these latter the cnosians shall make a present to your colony, and you yourself shall be one of the eighteen, and shall become a citizen of the new state; and if you and they cannot be persuaded to go, the cnosians may fairly use a little violence in order to make you. cleinias: but why, stranger, do not you and megillus take a part in our new city? athenian: o, cleinias, athens is proud, and sparta too; and they are both a long way off. but you and likewise the other colonists are conveniently situated as you describe. i have been speaking of the way in which the new citizens may be best managed under present circumstances; but in after-ages, if the city continues to exist, let the election be on this wise. all who are horse or foot soldiers, or have seen military service at the proper ages when they were severally fitted for it (compare arist. pol.), shall share in the election of magistrates; and the election shall be held in whatever temple the state deems most venerable, and every one shall carry his vote to the altar of the god, writing down on a tablet the name of the person for whom he votes, and his father's name, and his tribe, and ward; and at the side he shall write his own name in like manner. any one who pleases may take away any tablet which he does not think properly filled up, and exhibit it in the agora for a period of not less than thirty days. the tablets which are judged to be first, to the number of , shall be shown by the magistrates to the whole city, and the citizens shall in like manner select from these the candidates whom they prefer; and this second selection, to the number of , shall be again exhibited to the citizens; in the third, let any one who pleases select whom he pleases out of the , walking through the parts of victims, and let them choose for magistrates and proclaim the seven-and-thirty who have the greatest number of votes. but who, cleinias and megillus, will order for us in the colony all this matter of the magistrates, and the scrutinies of them? if we reflect, we shall see that cities which are in process of construction like ours must have some such persons, who cannot possibly be elected before there are any magistrates; and yet they must be elected in some way, and they are not to be inferior men, but the best possible. for as the proverb says, 'a good beginning is half the business'; and 'to have begun well' is praised by all, and in my opinion is a great deal more than half the business, and has never been praised by any one enough. cleinias: that is very true. athenian: then let us recognize the difficulty, and make clear to our own minds how the beginning is to be accomplished. there is only one proposal which i have to offer, and that is one which, under our circumstances, is both necessary and expedient. cleinias: what is it? athenian: i maintain that this colony of ours has a father and mother, who are no other than the colonizing state. well i know that many colonies have been, and will be, at enmity with their parents. but in early days the child, as in a family, loves and is beloved; even if there come a time later when the tie is broken, still, while he is in want of education, he naturally loves his parents and is beloved by them, and flies to his relatives for protection, and finds in them his only natural allies in time of need; and this parental feeling already exists in the cnosians, as is shown by their care of the new city; and there is a similar feeling on the part of the young city towards cnosus. and i repeat what i was saying--for there is no harm in repeating a good thing--that the cnosians should take a common interest in all these matters, and choose, as far as they can, the eldest and best of the colonists, to the number of not less than a hundred; and let there be another hundred of the cnosians themselves. these, i say, on their arrival, should have a joint care that the magistrates should be appointed according to law, and that when they are appointed they should undergo a scrutiny. when this has been effected, the cnosians shall return home, and the new city do the best she can for her own preservation and happiness. i would have the seven-and-thirty now, and in all future time, chosen to fulfil the following duties:--let them, in the first place, be the guardians of the law; and, secondly, of the registers in which each one registers before the magistrate the amount of his property, excepting four minae which are allowed to citizens of the first class, three allowed to the second, two to the third, and a single mina to the fourth. and if any one, despising the laws for the sake of gain, be found to possess anything more which has not been registered, let all that he has in excess be confiscated, and let him be liable to a suit which shall be the reverse of honourable or fortunate. and let any one who will, indict him on the charge of loving base gains, and proceed against him before the guardians of the law. and if he be cast, let him lose his share of the public possessions, and when there is any public distribution, let him have nothing but his original lot; and let him be written down a condemned man as long as he lives, in some place in which any one who pleases can read about his offences. the guardian of the law shall not hold office longer than twenty years, and shall not be less than fifty years of age when he is elected; or if he is elected when he is sixty years of age, he shall hold office for ten years only; and upon the same principle, he must not imagine that he will be permitted to hold such an important office as that of guardian of the laws after he is seventy years of age, if he live so long. these are the three first ordinances about the guardians of the law; as the work of legislation progresses, each law in turn will assign to them their further duties. and now we may proceed in order to speak of the election of other officers; for generals have to be elected, and these again must have their ministers, commanders, and colonels of horse, and commanders of brigades of foot, who would be more rightly called by their popular name of brigadiers. the guardians of the law shall propose as generals men who are natives of the city, and a selection from the candidates proposed shall be made by those who are or have been of the age for military service. and if one who is not proposed is thought by somebody to be better than one who is, let him name whom he prefers in the place of whom, and make oath that he is better, and propose him; and whichever of them is approved by vote shall be admitted to the final selection; and the three who have the greatest number of votes shall be appointed generals, and superintendents of military affairs, after previously undergoing a scrutiny, like the guardians of the law. and let the generals thus elected propose twelve brigadiers, one for each tribe; and there shall be a right of counter-proposal as in the case of the generals, and the voting and decision shall take place in the same way. until the prytanes and council are elected, the guardians of the law shall convene the assembly in some holy spot which is suitable to the purpose, placing the hoplites by themselves, and the cavalry by themselves, and in a third division all the rest of the army. all are to vote for the generals (and for the colonels of horse), but the brigadiers are to be voted for only by those who carry shields (i.e. the hoplites). let the body of cavalry choose phylarchs for the generals; but captains of light troops, or archers, or any other division of the army, shall be appointed by the generals for themselves. there only remains the appointment of officers of cavalry: these shall be proposed by the same persons who proposed the generals, and the election and the counter-proposal of other candidates shall be arranged in the same way as in the case of the generals, and let the cavalry vote and the infantry look on at the election; the two who have the greatest number of votes shall be the leaders of all the horse. disputes about the voting may be raised once or twice; but if the dispute be raised a third time, the officers who preside at the several elections shall decide. the council shall consist of x members-- will be a convenient number for sub-division. if we divide the whole number into four parts of ninety each, we get ninety counsellors for each class. first, all the citizens shall select candidates from the first class; they shall be compelled to vote, and, if they do not, shall be duly fined. when the candidates have been selected, some one shall mark them down; this shall be the business of the first day. and on the following day, candidates shall be selected from the second class in the same manner and under the same conditions as on the previous day; and on the third day a selection shall be made from the third class, at which every one may, if he likes vote, and the three first classes shall be compelled to vote; but the fourth and lowest class shall be under no compulsion, and any member of this class who does not vote shall not be punished. on the fourth day candidates shall be selected from the fourth and smallest class; they shall be selected by all, but he who is of the fourth class shall suffer no penalty, nor he who is of the third, if he be not willing to vote; but he who is of the first or second class, if he does not vote shall be punished;--he who is of the second class shall pay a fine of triple the amount which was exacted at first, and he who is of the first class quadruple. on the fifth day the rulers shall bring out the names noted down, for all the citizens to see, and every man shall choose out of them, under pain, if he do not, of suffering the first penalty; and when they have chosen out of each of the classes, they shall choose one-half of them by lot, who shall undergo a scrutiny:--these are to form the council for the year. the mode of election which has been described is in a mean between monarchy and democracy, and such a mean the state ought always to observe; for servants and masters never can be friends, nor good and bad, merely because they are declared to have equal privileges. for to unequals equals become unequal, if they are not harmonised by measure; and both by reason of equality, and by reason of inequality, cities are filled with seditions. the old saying, that 'equality makes friendship,' is happy and also true; but there is obscurity and confusion as to what sort of equality is meant. for there are two equalities which are called by the same name, but are in reality in many ways almost the opposite of one another; one of them may be introduced without difficulty, by any state or any legislator in the distribution of honours: this is the rule of measure, weight, and number, which regulates and apportions them. but there is another equality, of a better and higher kind, which is not so easily recognized. this is the judgment of zeus; among men it avails but little; that little, however, is the source of the greatest good to individuals and states. for it gives to the greater more, and to the inferior less and in proportion to the nature of each; and, above all, greater honour always to the greater virtue, and to the less less; and to either in proportion to their respective measure of virtue and education. and this is justice, and is ever the true principle of states, at which we ought to aim, and according to this rule order the new city which is now being founded, and any other city which may be hereafter founded. to this the legislator should look,--not to the interests of tyrants one or more, or to the power of the people, but to justice always; which, as i was saying, is the distribution of natural equality among unequals in each case. but there are times at which every state is compelled to use the words, 'just,' 'equal,' in a secondary sense, in the hope of escaping in some degree from factions. for equity and indulgence are infractions of the perfect and strict rule of justice. and this is the reason why we are obliged to use the equality of the lot, in order to avoid the discontent of the people; and so we invoke god and fortune in our prayers, and beg that they themselves will direct the lot with a view to supreme justice. and therefore, although we are compelled to use both equalities, we should use that into which the element of chance enters as seldom as possible. thus, o my friends, and for the reasons given, should a state act which would endure and be saved. but as a ship sailing on the sea has to be watched night and day, in like manner a city also is sailing on a sea of politics, and is liable to all sorts of insidious assaults; and therefore from morning to night, and from night to morning, rulers must join hands with rulers, and watchers with watchers, receiving and giving up their trust in a perpetual succession. now a multitude can never fulfil a duty of this sort with anything like energy. moreover, the greater number of the senators will have to be left during the greater part of the year to order their concerns at their own homes. they will therefore have to be arranged in twelve portions, answering to the twelve months, and furnish guardians of the state, each portion for a single month. their business is to be at hand and receive any foreigner or citizen who comes to them, whether to give information, or to put one of those questions, to which, when asked by other cities, a city should give an answer, and to which, if she ask them herself, she should receive an answer; or again, when there is a likelihood of internal commotions, which are always liable to happen in some form or other, they will, if they can, prevent their occurring; or if they have already occurred, will lose no time in making them known to the city, and healing the evil. wherefore, also, this which is the presiding body of the state ought always to have the control of their assemblies, and of the dissolutions of them, ordinary as well as extraordinary. all this is to be ordered by the twelfth part of the council, which is always to keep watch together with the other officers of the state during one portion of the year, and to rest during the remaining eleven portions. thus will the city be fairly ordered. and now, who is to have the superintendence of the country, and what shall be the arrangement? seeing that the whole city and the entire country have been both of them divided into twelve portions, ought there not to be appointed superintendents of the streets of the city, and of the houses, and buildings, and harbours, and the agora, and fountains, and sacred domains, and temples, and the like? cleinias: to be sure there ought. athenian: let us assume, then, that there ought to be servants of the temples, and priests and priestesses. there must also be superintendents of roads and buildings, who will have a care of men, that they may do no harm, and also of beasts, both within the enclosure and in the suburbs. three kinds of officers will thus have to be appointed, in order that the city may be suitably provided according to her needs. those who have the care of the city shall be called wardens of the city; and those who have the care of the agora shall be called wardens of the agora; and those who have the care of the temples shall be called priests. those who hold hereditary offices as priests or priestesses, shall not be disturbed; but if there be few or none such, as is probable at the foundation of a new city, priests and priestesses shall be appointed to be servants of the gods who have no servants. some of our officers shall be elected, and others appointed by lot, those who are of the people and those who are not of the people mingling in a friendly manner in every place and city, that the state may be as far as possible of one mind. the officers of the temples shall be appointed by lot; in this way their election will be committed to god, that he may do what is agreeable to him. and he who obtains a lot shall undergo a scrutiny, first, as to whether he is sound of body and of legitimate birth; and in the second place, in order to show that he is of a perfectly pure family, not stained with homicide or any similar impiety in his own person, and also that his father and mother have led a similar unstained life. now the laws about all divine things should be brought from delphi, and interpreters appointed, under whose direction they should be used. the tenure of the priesthood should always be for a year and no longer; and he who will duly execute the sacred office, according to the laws of religion, must be not less than sixty years of age--the laws shall be the same about priestesses. as for the interpreters, they shall be appointed thus:--let the twelve tribes be distributed into groups of four, and let each group select four, one out of each tribe within the group, three times; and let the three who have the greatest number of votes (out of the twelve appointed by each group), after undergoing a scrutiny, nine in all, be sent to delphi, in order that the god may return one out of each triad; their age shall be the same as that of the priests, and the scrutiny of them shall be conducted in the same manner; let them be interpreters for life, and when any one dies let the four tribes select another from the tribe of the deceased. moreover, besides priests and interpreters, there must be treasurers, who will take charge of the property of the several temples, and of the sacred domains, and shall have authority over the produce and the letting of them; and three of them shall be chosen from the highest classes for the greater temples, and two for the lesser, and one for the least of all; the manner of their election and the scrutiny of them shall be the same as that of the generals. this shall be the order of the temples. let everything have a guard as far as possible. let the defence of the city be commited to the generals, and taxiarchs, and hipparchs, and phylarchs, and prytanes, and the wardens of the city, and of the agora, when the election of them has been completed. the defence of the country shall be provided for as follows:--the entire land has been already distributed into twelve as nearly as possible equal parts, and let the tribe allotted to a division provide annually for it five wardens of the country and commanders of the watch; and let each body of five have the power of selecting twelve others out of the youth of their own tribe,--these shall be not less than twenty-five years of age, and not more than thirty. and let there be allotted to them severally every month the various districts, in order that they may all acquire knowledge and experience of the whole country. the term of service for commanders and for watchers shall continue during two years. after having had their stations allotted to them, they will go from place to place in regular order, making their round from left to right as their commanders direct them; (when i speak of going to the right, i mean that they are to go to the east). and at the commencement of the second year, in order that as many as possible of the guards may not only get a knowledge of the country at any one season of the year, but may also have experience of the manner in which different places are affected at different seasons of the year, their then commanders shall lead them again towards the left, from place to place in succession, until they have completed the second year. in the third year other wardens of the country shall be chosen and commanders of the watch, five for each division, who are to be the superintendents of the bands of twelve. while on service at each station, their attention shall be directed to the following points:--in the first place, they shall see that the country is well protected against enemies; they shall trench and dig wherever this is required, and, as far as they can, they shall by fortifications keep off the evil-disposed, in order to prevent them from doing any harm to the country or the property; they shall use the beasts of burden and the labourers whom they find on the spot: these will be their instruments whom they will superintend, taking them, as far as possible, at the times when they are not engaged in their regular business. they shall make every part of the country inaccessible to enemies, and as accessible as possible to friends (compare arist. pol.); there shall be ways for man and beasts of burden and for cattle, and they shall take care to have them always as smooth as they can; and shall provide against the rains doing harm instead of good to the land, when they come down from the mountains into the hollow dells; and shall keep in the overflow by the help of works and ditches, in order that the valleys, receiving and drinking up the rain from heaven, and providing fountains and streams in the fields and regions which lie underneath, may furnish even to the dry places plenty of good water. the fountains of water, whether of rivers or of springs, shall be ornamented with plantations and buildings for beauty; and let them bring together the streams in subterraneous channels, and make all things plenteous; and if there be a sacred grove or dedicated precinct in the neighbourhood, they shall conduct the water to the actual temples of the gods, and so beautify them at all seasons of the year. everywhere in such places the youth shall make gymnasia for themselves, and warm baths for the aged, placing by them abundance of dry wood, for the benefit of those labouring under disease--there the weary frame of the rustic, worn with toil, will receive a kindly welcome, far better than he would at the hands of a not over-wise doctor. the building of these and the like works will be useful and ornamental; they will provide a pleasing amusement, but they will be a serious employment too; for the sixty wardens will have to guard their several divisions, not only with a view to enemies, but also with an eye to professing friends. when a quarrel arises among neighbours or citizens, and any one whether slave or freeman wrongs another, let the five wardens decide small matters on their own authority; but where the charge against another relates to greater matters, the seventeen composed of the fives and twelves, shall determine any charges which one man brings against another, not involving more than three minae. every judge and magistrate shall be liable to give an account of his conduct in office, except those who, like kings, have the final decision. moreover, as regards the aforesaid wardens of the country, if they do any wrong to those of whom they have the care, whether by imposing upon them unequal tasks, or by taking the produce of the soil or implements of husbandry without their consent; also if they receive anything in the way of a bribe, or decide suits unjustly, or if they yield to the influences of flattery, let them be publicly dishonoured; and in regard to any other wrong which they do to the inhabitants of the country, if the question be of a mina, let them submit to the decision of the villagers in the neighbourhood; but in suits of greater amount, or in case of lesser, if they refuse to submit, trusting that their monthly removal into another part of the country will enable them to escape--in such cases the injured party may bring his suit in the common court, and if he obtain a verdict he may exact from the defendant, who refused to submit, a double penalty. the wardens and the overseers of the country, while on their two years' service, shall have common meals at their several stations, and shall all live together; and he who is absent from the common meal, or sleeps out, if only for one day or night, unless by order of his commanders, or by reason of absolute necessity, if the five denounce him and inscribe his name in the agora as not having kept his guard, let him be deemed to have betrayed the city, as far as lay in his power, and let him be disgraced and beaten with impunity by any one who meets him and is willing to punish him. if any of the commanders is guilty of such an irregularity, the whole company of sixty shall see to it, and he who is cognisant of the offence, and does not bring the offender to trial, shall be amenable to the same laws as the younger offender himself, and shall pay a heavier fine, and be incapable of ever commanding the young. the guardians of the law are to be careful inspectors of these matters, and shall either prevent or punish offenders. every man should remember the universal rule, that he who is not a good servant will not be a good master; a man should pride himself more upon serving well than upon commanding well: first upon serving the laws, which is also the service of the gods; in the second place, upon having served ancient and honourable men in the days of his youth. furthermore, during the two years in which any one is a warden of the country, his daily food ought to be of a simple and humble kind. when the twelve have been chosen, let them and the five meet together, and determine that they will be their own servants, and, like servants, will not have other slaves and servants for their own use, neither will they use those of the villagers and husbandmen for their private advantage, but for the public service only; and in general they should make up their minds to live independently by themselves, servants of each other and of themselves. further, at all seasons of the year, summer and winter alike, let them be under arms and survey minutely the whole country; thus they will at once keep guard, and at the same time acquire a perfect knowledge of every locality. there can be no more important kind of information than the exact knowledge of a man's own country; and for this as well as for more general reasons of pleasure and advantage, hunting with dogs and other kinds of sports should be pursued by the young. the service to whom this is committed may be called the secret police or wardens of the country; the name does not much signify, but every one who has the safety of the state at heart will use his utmost diligence in this service. after the wardens of the country, we have to speak of the election of wardens of the agora and of the city. the wardens of the country were sixty in number, and the wardens of the city will be three, and will divide the twelve parts of the city into three; like the former, they shall have care of the ways, and of the different high roads which lead out of the country into the city, and of the buildings, that they may be all made according to law;--also of the waters, which the guardians of the supply preserve and convey to them, care being taken that they may reach the fountains pure and abundant, and be both an ornament and a benefit to the city. these also should be men of influence, and at leisure to take care of the public interest. let every man propose as warden of the city any one whom he likes out of the highest class, and when the vote has been given on them, and the number is reduced to the six who have the greatest number of votes, let the electing officers choose by lot three out of the six, and when they have undergone a scrutiny let them hold office according to the laws laid down for them. next, let the wardens of the agora be elected in like manner, out of the first and second class, five in number: ten are to be first elected, and out of the ten five are to be chosen by lot, as in the election of the wardens of the city:--these when they have undergone a scrutiny are to be declared magistrates. every one shall vote for every one, and he who will not vote, if he be informed against before the magistrates, shall be fined fifty drachmae, and shall also be deemed a bad citizen. let any one who likes go to the assembly and to the general council; it shall be compulsory to go on citizens of the first and second class, and they shall pay a fine of ten drachmae if they be found not answering to their names at the assembly. but the third and fourth class shall be under no compulsion, and shall be let off without a fine, unless the magistrates have commanded all to be present, in consequence of some urgent necessity. the wardens of the agora shall observe the order appointed by law for the agora, and shall have the charge of the temples and fountains which are in the agora; and they shall see that no one injures anything, and punish him who does, with stripes and bonds, if he be a slave or stranger; but if he be a citizen who misbehaves in this way, they shall have the power themselves of inflicting a fine upon him to the amount of a hundred drachmae, or with the consent of the wardens of the city up to double that amount. and let the wardens of the city have a similar power of imposing punishments and fines in their own department; and let them impose fines by their own department; and let them impose fines by their own authority, up to a mina, or up to two minae with the consent of the wardens of the agora. in the next place, it will be proper to appoint directors of music and gymnastic, two kinds of each--of the one kind the business will be education, of the other, the superintendence of contests. in speaking of education, the law means to speak of those who have the care of order and instruction in gymnasia and schools, and of the going to school, and of school buildings for boys and girls; and in speaking of contests, the law refers to the judges of gymnastics and of music; these again are divided into two classes, the one having to do with music, the other with gymnastics; and the same who judge of the gymnastic contests of men, shall judge of horses; but in music there shall be one set of judges of solo singing, and of imitation--i mean of rhapsodists, players on the harp, the flute and the like, and another who shall judge of choral song. first of all, we must choose directors for the choruses of boys, and men, and maidens, whom they shall follow in the amusement of the dance, and for our other musical arrangements;--one director will be enough for the choruses, and he should be not less than forty years of age. one director will also be enough to introduce the solo singers, and to give judgment on the competitors, and he ought not to be less than thirty years of age. the director and manager of the choruses shall be elected after the following manner:--let any persons who commonly take an interest in such matters go to the meeting, and be fined if they do not go (the guardians of the law shall judge of their fault), but those who have no interest shall not be compelled. the elector shall propose as director some one who understands music, and he in the scrutiny may be challenged on the one part by those who say he has no skill, and defended on the other hand by those who say that he has. ten are to be elected by vote, and he of the ten who is chosen by lot shall undergo a scrutiny, and lead the choruses for a year according to law. and in like manner the competitor who wins the lot shall be leader of the solo and concert music for that year; and he who is thus elected shall deliver the award to the judges. in the next place, we have to choose judges in the contests of horses and of men; these shall be selected from the third and also from the second class of citizens, and three first classes shall be compelled to go to the election, but the lowest may stay away with impunity; and let there be three elected by lot out of the twenty who have been chosen previously, and they must also have the vote and approval of the examiners. but if any one is rejected in the scrutiny at any ballot or decision, others shall be chosen in the same manner, and undergo a similar scrutiny. there remains the minister of the education of youth, male and female; he too will rule according to law; one such minister will be sufficient, and he must be fifty years old, and have children lawfully begotten, both boys and girls by preference, at any rate, one or the other. he who is elected, and he who is the elector, should consider that of all the great offices of state this is the greatest; for the first shoot of any plant, if it makes a good start towards the attainment of its natural excellence, has the greatest effect on its maturity; and this is not only true of plants, but of animals wild and tame, and also of men. man, as we say, is a tame or civilized animal; nevertheless, he requires proper instruction and a fortunate nature, and then of all animals he becomes the most divine and most civilized (arist. pol.); but if he be insufficiently or ill educated he is the most savage of earthly creatures. wherefore the legislator ought not to allow the education of children to become a secondary or accidental matter. in the first place, he who would be rightly provident about them, should begin by taking care that he is elected, who of all the citizens is in every way best; him the legislator shall do his utmost to appoint guardian and superintendent. to this end all the magistrates, with the exception of the council and prytanes, shall go to the temple of apollo, and elect by ballot him of the guardians of the law whom they severally think will be the best superintendent of education. and he who has the greatest number of votes, after he has undergone a scrutiny at the hands of all the magistrates who have been his electors, with the exception of the guardians of the law,--shall hold office for five years; and in the sixth year let another be chosen in like manner to fill his office. if any one dies while he is holding a public office, and more than thirty days before his term of office expires, let those whose business it is elect another to the office in the same manner as before. and if any one who is entrusted with orphans dies, let the relations both on the father's and mother's side, who are residing at home, including cousins, appoint another guardian within ten days, or be fined a drachma a day for neglect to do so. a city which has no regular courts of law ceases to be a city; and again, if a judge is silent and says no more in preliminary proceedings than the litigants, as is the case in arbitrations, he will never be able to decide justly; wherefore a multitude of judges will not easily judge well, nor a few if they are bad. the point in dispute between the parties should be made clear; and time, and deliberation, and repeated examination, greatly tend to clear up doubts. for this reason, he who goes to law with another, should go first of all to his neighbours and friends who know best the questions at issue. and if he be unable to obtain from them a satisfactory decision, let him have recourse to another court; and if the two courts cannot settle the matter, let a third put an end to the suit. now the establishment of courts of justice may be regarded as a choice of magistrates, for every magistrate must also be a judge of some things; and the judge, though he be not a magistrate, yet in certain respects is a very important magistrate on the day on which he is determining a suit. regarding then the judges also as magistrates, let us say who are fit to be judges, and of what they are to be judges, and how many of them are to judge in each suit. let that be the supreme tribunal which the litigants appoint in common for themselves, choosing certain persons by agreement. and let there be two other tribunals: one for private causes, when a citizen accuses another of wronging him and wishes to get a decision; the other for public causes, in which some citizen is of opinion that the public has been wronged by an individual, and is willing to vindicate the common interests. and we must not forget to mention how the judges are to be qualified, and who they are to be. in the first place, let there be a tribunal open to all private persons who are trying causes one against another for the third time, and let this be composed as follows:--all the officers of state, as well annual as those holding office for a longer period, when the new year is about to commence, in the month following after the summer solstice, on the last day but one of the year, shall meet in some temple, and calling god to witness, shall dedicate one judge from every magistracy to be their first-fruits, choosing in each office him who seems to them to be the best, and whom they deem likely to decide the causes of his fellow-citizens during the ensuing year in the best and holiest manner. and when the election is completed, a scrutiny shall be held in the presence of the electors themselves, and if any one be rejected another shall be chosen in the same manner. those who have undergone the scrutiny shall judge the causes of those who have declined the inferior courts, and shall give their vote openly. the councillors and other magistrates who have elected them shall be required to be hearers and spectators of the causes; and any one else may be present who pleases. if one man charges another with having intentionally decided wrong, let him go to the guardians of the law and lay his accusation before them, and he who is found guilty in such a case shall pay damages to the injured party equal to half the injury; but if he shall appear to deserve a greater penalty, the judges shall determine what additional punishment he shall suffer, and how much more he ought to pay to the public treasury, and to the party who brought the suit. in the judgment of offences against the state, the people ought to participate, for when any one wrongs the state all are wronged, and may reasonably complain if they are not allowed to share in the decision. such causes ought to originate with the people, and the ought also to have the final decision of them, but the trial of them shall take place before three of the highest magistrates, upon whom the plaintiff and the defendant shall agree; and if they are not able to come to an agreement themselves, the council shall choose one of the two proposed. and in private suits, too, as far as is possible, all should have a share; for he who has no share in the administration of justice, is apt to imagine that he has no share in the state at all. and for this reason there shall be a court of law in every tribe, and the judges shall be chosen by lot;--they shall give their decisions at once, and shall be inaccessible to entreaties. the final judgment shall rest with that court which, as we maintain, has been established in the most incorruptible form of which human things admit: this shall be the court established for those who are unable to get rid of their suits either in the courts of neighbours or of the tribes. thus much of the courts of law, which, as i was saying, cannot be precisely defined either as being or not being offices; a superficial sketch has been given of them, in which some things have been told and others omitted. for the right place of an exact statement of the laws respecting suits, under their several heads, will be at the end of the body of legislation;--let us then expect them at the end. hitherto our legislation has been chiefly occupied with the appointment of offices. perfect unity and exactness, extending to the whole and every particular of political administration, cannot be attained to the full, until the discussion shall have a beginning, middle, and end, and is complete in every part. at present we have reached the election of magistrates, and this may be regarded as a sufficient termination of what preceded. and now there need no longer be any delay or hesitation in beginning the work of legislation. cleinias: i like what you have said, stranger; and i particularly like your manner of tacking on the beginning of your new discourse to the end of the former one. athenian: thus far, then, the old men's rational pastime has gone off well. cleinias: you mean, i suppose, their serious and noble pursuit? athenian: perhaps; but i should like to know whether you and i are agreed about a certain thing. cleinias: about what thing? athenian: you know the endless labour which painters expend upon their pictures--they are always putting in or taking out colours, or whatever be the term which artists employ; they seem as if they would never cease touching up their works, which are always being made brighter and more beautiful. cleinias: i know something of these matters from report, although i have never had any great acquaintance with the art. athenian: no matter; we may make use of the illustration notwithstanding:--suppose that some one had a mind to paint a figure in the most beautiful manner, in the hope that his work instead of losing would always improve as time went on--do you not see that being a mortal, unless he leaves some one to succeed him who will correct the flaws which time may introduce, and be able to add what is left imperfect through the defect of the artist, and who will further brighten up and improve the picture, all his great labour will last but a short time? cleinias: true. athenian: and is not the aim of the legislator similar? first, he desires that his laws should be written down with all possible exactness; in the second place, as time goes on and he has made an actual trial of his decrees, will he not find omissions? do you imagine that there ever was a legislator so foolish as not to know that many things are necessarily omitted, which some one coming after him must correct, if the constitution and the order of government is not to deteriorate, but to improve in the state which he has established? cleinias: assuredly, that is the sort of thing which every one would desire. athenian: and if any one possesses any means of accomplishing this by word or deed, or has any way great or small by which he can teach a person to understand how he can maintain and amend the laws, he should finish what he has to say, and not leave the work incomplete. cleinias: by all means. athenian: and is not this what you and i have to do at the present moment? cleinias: what have we to do? athenian: as we are about to legislate and have chosen our guardians of the law, and are ourselves in the evening of life, and they as compared with us are young men, we ought not only to legislate for them, but to endeavour to make them not only guardians of the law but legislators themselves, as far as this is possible. cleinias: certainly; if we can. athenian: at any rate, we must do our best. cleinias: of course. athenian: we will say to them--o friends and saviours of our laws, in laying down any law, there are many particulars which we shall omit, and this cannot be helped; at the same time, we will do our utmost to describe what is important, and will give an outline which you shall fill up. and i will explain on what principle you are to act. megillus and cleinias and i have often spoken to one another touching these matters, and we are of opinion that we have spoken well. and we hope that you will be of the same mind with us, and become our disciples, and keep in view the things which in our united opinion the legislator and guardian of the law ought to keep in view. there was one main point about which we were agreed--that a man's whole energies throughout life should be devoted to the acquisition of the virtue proper to a man, whether this was to be gained by study, or habit, or some mode of acquisition, or desire, or opinion, or knowledge--and this applies equally to men and women, old and young--the aim of all should always be such as i have described; anything which may be an impediment, the good man ought to show that he utterly disregards. and if at last necessity plainly compels him to be an outlaw from his native land, rather than bow his neck to the yoke of slavery and be ruled by inferiors, and he has to fly, an exile he must be and endure all such trials, rather than accept another form of government, which is likely to make men worse. these are our original principles; and do you now, fixing your eyes upon the standard of what a man and a citizen ought or ought not to be, praise and blame the laws--blame those which have not this power of making the citizen better, but embrace those which have; and with gladness receive and live in them; bidding a long farewell to other institutions which aim at goods, as they are termed, of a different kind. let us proceed to another class of laws, beginning with their foundation in religion. and we must first return to the number --the entire number had, and has, a great many convenient divisions, and the number of the tribes which was a twelfth part of the whole, being correctly formed by x ( /( x ), i.e., / = ), also has them. and not only is the whole number divisible by twelve, but also the number of each tribe is divisible by twelve. now every portion should be regarded by us as a sacred gift of heaven, corresponding to the months and to the revolution of the universe (compare tim.). every city has a guiding and sacred principle given by nature, but in some the division or distribution has been more right than in others, and has been more sacred and fortunate. in our opinion, nothing can be more right than the selection of the number , which may be divided by all numbers from one to twelve with the single exception of eleven, and that admits of a very easy correction; for if, turning to the dividend ( ), we deduct two families, the defect in the division is cured. and the truth of this may be easily proved when we have leisure. but for the present, trusting to the mere assertion of this principle, let us divide the state; and assigning to each portion some god or son of a god, let us give them altars and sacred rites, and at the altars let us hold assemblies for sacrifice twice in the month--twelve assemblies for the tribes, and twelve for the city, according to their divisions; the first in honour of the gods and divine things, and the second to promote friendship and 'better acquaintance,' as the phrase is, and every sort of good fellowship with one another. for people must be acquainted with those into whose families and whom they marry and with those to whom they give in marriage; in such matters, as far as possible, a man should deem it all important to avoid a mistake, and with this serious purpose let games be instituted (compare republic) in which youths and maidens shall dance together, seeing one another and being seen naked, at a proper age, and on a suitable occasion, not transgressing the rules of modesty. the directors of choruses will be the superintendents and regulators of these games, and they, together with the guardians of the law, will legislate in any matters which we have omitted; for, as we said, where there are numerous and minute details, the legislator must leave out something. and the annual officers who have experience, and know what is wanted, must make arrangements and improvements year by year, until such enactments and provisions are sufficiently determined. a ten years' experience of sacrifices and dances, if extending to all particulars, will be quite sufficient; and if the legislator be alive they shall communicate with him, but if he be dead then the several officers shall refer the omissions which come under their notice to the guardians of the law, and correct them, until all is perfect; and from that time there shall be no more change, and they shall establish and use the new laws with the others which the legislator originally gave them, and of which they are never, if they can help, to change aught; or, if some necessity overtakes them, the magistrates must be called into counsel, and the whole people, and they must go to all the oracles of the gods; and if they are all agreed, in that case they may make the change, but if they are not agreed, by no manner of means, and any one who dissents shall prevail, as the law ordains. whenever any one over twenty-five years of age, having seen and been seen by others, believes himself to have found a marriage connexion which is to his mind, and suitable for the procreation of children, let him marry if he be still under the age of five-and-thirty years; but let him first hear how he ought to seek after what is suitable and appropriate (compare arist. pol.). for, as cleinias says, every law should have a suitable prelude. cleinias: you recollect at the right moment, stranger, and do not miss the opportunity which the argument affords of saying a word in season. athenian: i thank you. we will say to him who is born of good parents--o my son, you ought to make such a marriage as wise men would approve. now they would advise you neither to avoid a poor marriage, nor specially to desire a rich one; but if other things are equal, always to honour inferiors, and with them to form connexions;--this will be for the benefit of the city and of the families which are united; for the equable and symmetrical tends infinitely more to virtue than the unmixed. and he who is conscious of being too headstrong, and carried away more than is fitting in all his actions, ought to desire to become the relation of orderly parents; and he who is of the opposite temper ought to seek the opposite alliance. let there be one word concerning all marriages:--every man shall follow, not after the marriage which is most pleasing to himself, but after that which is most beneficial to the state. for somehow every one is by nature prone to that which is likest to himself, and in this way the whole city becomes unequal in property and in disposition; and hence there arise in most states the very results which we least desire to happen. now, to add to the law an express provision, not only that the rich man shall not marry into the rich family, nor the powerful into the family of the powerful, but that the slower natures shall be compelled to enter into marriage with the quicker, and the quicker with the slower, may awaken anger as well as laughter in the minds of many; for there is a difficulty in perceiving that the city ought to be well mingled like a cup, in which the maddening wine is hot and fiery, but when chastened by a soberer god, receives a fair associate and becomes an excellent and temperate drink (compare statesman). yet in marriage no one is able to see that the same result occurs. wherefore also the law must let alone such matters, but we should try to charm the spirits of men into believing the equability of their children's disposition to be of more importance than equality in excessive fortune when they marry; and him who is too desirous of making a rich marriage we should endeavour to turn aside by reproaches, not, however, by any compulsion of written law. let this then be our exhortation concerning marriage, and let us remember what was said before--that a man should cling to immortality, and leave behind him children's children to be the servants of god in his place for ever. all this and much more may be truly said by way of prelude about the duty of marriage. but if a man will not listen, and remains unsocial and alien among his fellow-citizens, and is still unmarried at thirty-five years of age, let him pay a yearly fine;--he who of the highest class shall pay a fine of a hundred drachmae, and he who is of the second class a fine of seventy drachmae; the third class shall pay sixty drachmae, and the fourth thirty drachmae, and let the money be sacred to here; he who does not pay the fine annually shall owe ten times the sum, which the treasurer of the goddess shall exact; and if he fails in doing so, let him be answerable and give an account of the money at his audit. he who refuses to marry shall be thus punished in money, and also be deprived of all honour which the younger show to the elder; let no young man voluntarily obey him, and, if he attempt to punish any one, let every one come to the rescue and defend the injured person, and he who is present and does not come to the rescue, shall be pronounced by the law to be a coward and a bad citizen. of the marriage portion i have already spoken; and again i say for the instruction of poor men that he who neither gives nor receives a dowry on account of poverty, has a compensation; for the citizens of our state are provided with the necessaries of life, and wives will be less likely to be insolent, and husbands to be mean and subservient to them on account of property. and he who obeys this law will do a noble action; but he who will not obey, and gives or receives more than fifty drachmae as the price of the marriage garments if he be of the lowest, or more than a mina, or a mina-and-a-half, if he be of the third or second classes, or two minae if he be of the highest class, shall owe to the public treasury a similar sum, and that which is given or received shall be sacred to here and zeus; and let the treasurers of these gods exact the money, as was said before about the unmarried--that the treasurers of here were to exact the money, or pay the fine themselves. the betrothal by a father shall be valid in the first degree, that by a grandfather in the second degree, and in the third degree, betrothal by brothers who have the same father; but if there are none of these alive, the betrothal by a mother shall be valid in like manner; in cases of unexampled fatality, the next of kin and the guardians shall have authority. what are to be the rites before marriages, or any other sacred acts, relating either to future, present, or past marriages, shall be referred to the interpreters; and he who follows their advice may be satisfied. touching the marriage festival, they shall assemble not more than five male and five female friends of both families; and a like number of members of the family of either sex, and no man shall spend more than his means will allow; he who is of the richest class may spend a mina,--he who is of the second, half a mina, and in the same proportion as the census of each decreases: all men shall praise him who is obedient to the law; but he who is disobedient shall be punished by the guardians of the law as a man wanting in true taste, and uninstructed in the laws of bridal song. drunkenness is always improper, except at the festivals of the god who gave wine; and peculiarly dangerous, when a man is engaged in the business of marriage; at such a crisis of their lives a bride and bridegroom ought to have all their wits about them--they ought to take care that their offspring may be born of reasonable beings; for on what day or night heaven will give them increase, who can say? moreover, they ought not to begetting children when their bodies are dissipated by intoxication, but their offspring should be compact and solid, quiet and compounded properly; whereas the drunkard is all abroad in all his actions, and beside himself both in body and soul. wherefore, also, the drunken man is bad and unsteady in sowing the seed of increase, and is likely to beget offspring who will be unstable and untrustworthy, and cannot be expected to walk straight either in body or mind. hence during the whole year and all his life long, and especially while he is begetting children, he ought to take care and not intentionally do what is injurious to health, or what involves insolence and wrong; for he cannot help leaving the impression of himself on the souls and bodies of his offspring, and he begets children in every way inferior. and especially on the day and night of marriage should a man abstain from such things. for the beginning, which is also a god dwelling in man, preserves all things, if it meet with proper respect from each individual. he who marries is further to consider, that one of the two houses in the lot is the nest and nursery of his young, and there he is to marry and make a home for himself and bring up his children, going away from his father and mother. for in friendships there must be some degree of desire, in order to cement and bind together diversities of character; but excessive intercourse not having the desire which is created by time, insensibly dissolves friendships from a feeling of satiety; wherefore a man and his wife shall leave to his and her father and mother their own dwelling-places, and themselves go as to a colony and dwell there, and visit and be visited by their parents; and they shall beget and bring up children, handing on the torch of life from one generation to another, and worshipping the gods according to law for ever. in the next place, we have to consider what sort of property will be most convenient. there is no difficulty either in understanding or acquiring most kinds of property, but there is great difficulty in what relates to slaves. and the reason is, that we speak about them in a way which is right and which is not right; for what we say about our slaves is consistent and also inconsistent with our practice about them. megillus: i do not understand, stranger, what you mean. athenian: i am not surprised, megillus, for the state of the helots among the lacedaemonians is of all hellenic forms of slavery the most controverted and disputed about, some approving and some condemning it; there is less dispute about the slavery which exists among the heracleots, who have subjugated the mariandynians, and about the thessalian penestae. looking at these and the like examples, what ought we to do concerning property in slaves? i made a remark, in passing, which naturally elicited a question about my meaning from you. it was this:--we know that all would agree that we should have the best and most attached slaves whom we can get. for many a man has found his slaves better in every way than brethren or sons, and many times they have saved the lives and property of their masters and their whole house--such tales are well known. megillus: to be sure. athenian: but may we not also say that the soul of the slave is utterly corrupt, and that no man of sense ought to trust them? and the wisest of our poets, speaking of zeus, says: 'far-seeing zeus takes away half the understanding of men whom the day of slavery subdues.' different persons have got these two different notions of slaves in their minds--some of them utterly distrust their servants, and, as if they were wild beasts, chastise them with goads and whips, and make their souls three times, or rather many times, as slavish as they were before;--and others do just the opposite. megillus: true. cleinias: then what are we to do in our own country, stranger, seeing that there are such differences in the treatment of slaves by their owners? athenian: well, cleinias, there can be no doubt that man is a troublesome animal, and therefore he is not very manageable, nor likely to become so, when you attempt to introduce the necessary division of slave, and freeman, and master. cleinias: that is obvious. athenian: he is a troublesome piece of goods, as has been often shown by the frequent revolts of the messenians, and the great mischiefs which happen in states having many slaves who speak the same language, and the numerous robberies and lawless life of the italian banditti, as they are called. a man who considers all this is fairly at a loss. two remedies alone remain to us,--not to have the slaves of the same country, nor if possible, speaking the same language (compare aris. pol.); in this way they will more easily be held in subjection: secondly, we should tend them carefully, not only out of regard to them, but yet more out of respect to ourselves. and the right treatment of slaves is to behave properly to them, and to do to them, if possible, even more justice than to those who are our equals; for he who naturally and genuinely reverences justice, and hates injustice, is discovered in his dealings with any class of men to whom he can easily be unjust. and he who in regard to the natures and actions of his slaves is undefiled by impiety and injustice, will best sow the seeds of virtue in them; and this may be truly said of every master, and tyrant, and of every other having authority in relation to his inferiors. slaves ought to be punished as they deserve, and not admonished as if they were freemen, which will only make them conceited. the language used to a servant ought always to be that of a command (compare arist. pol.), and we ought not to jest with them, whether they are males or females--this is a foolish way which many people have of setting up their slaves, and making the life of servitude more disagreeable both for them and for their masters. cleinias: true. athenian: now that each of the citizens is provided, as far as possible, with a sufficient number of suitable slaves who can help him in what he has to do, we may next proceed to describe their dwellings. cleinias: very good. athenian: the city being new and hitherto uninhabited, care ought to be taken of all the buildings, and the manner of building each of them, and also of the temples and walls. these, cleinias, were matters which properly came before the marriages;--but, as we are only talking, there is no objection to changing the order. if, however, our plan of legislation is ever to take effect, then the house shall precede the marriage if god so will, and afterwards we will come to the regulations about marriage; but at present we are only describing these matters in a general outline. cleinias: quite true. athenian: the temples are to be placed all round the agora, and the whole city built on the heights in a circle (compare arist. pol.), for the sake of defence and for the sake of purity. near the temples are to be placed buildings for the magistrates and the courts of law; in these plaintiff and defendant will receive their due, and the places will be regarded as most holy, partly because they have to do with holy things: and partly because they are the dwelling-places of holy gods: and in them will be held the courts in which cases of homicide and other trials of capital offences may fitly take place. as to the walls, megillus, i agree with sparta in thinking that they should be allowed to sleep in the earth, and that we should not attempt to disinter them (compare arist. pol.); there is a poetical saying, which is finely expressed, that 'walls ought to be of steel and iron, and not of earth;' besides, how ridiculous of us to be sending out our young men annually into the country to dig and to trench, and to keep off the enemy by fortifications, under the idea that they are not to be allowed to set foot in our territory, and then, that we should surround ourselves with a wall, which, in the first place, is by no means conducive to the health of cities, and is also apt to produce a certain effeminacy in the minds of the inhabitants, inviting men to run thither instead of repelling their enemies, and leading them to imagine that their safety is due not to their keeping guard day and night, but that when they are protected by walls and gates, then they may sleep in safety; as if they were not meant to labour, and did not know that true repose comes from labour, and that disgraceful indolence and a careless temper of mind is only the renewal of trouble. but if men must have walls, the private houses ought to be so arranged from the first that the whole city may be one wall, having all the houses capable of defence by reason of their uniformity and equality towards the streets (compare arist. pol.). the form of the city being that of a single dwelling will have an agreeable aspect, and being easily guarded will be infinitely better for security. until the original building is completed, these should be the principal objects of the inhabitants; and the wardens of the city should superintend the work, and should impose a fine on him who is negligent; and in all that relates to the city they should have a care of cleanliness, and not allow a private person to encroach upon any public property either by buildings or excavations. further, they ought to take care that the rains from heaven flow off easily, and of any other matters which may have to be administered either within or without the city. the guardians of the law shall pass any further enactments which their experience may show to be necessary, and supply any other points in which the law may be deficient. and now that these matters, and the buildings about the agora, and the gymnasia, and places of instruction, and theatres, are all ready and waiting for scholars and spectators, let us proceed to the subjects which follow marriage in the order of legislation. cleinias: by all means. athenian: assuming that marriages exist already, cleinias, the mode of life during the year after marriage, before children are born, will follow next in order. in what way bride and bridegroom ought to live in a city which is to be superior to other cities, is a matter not at all easy for us to determine. there have been many difficulties already, but this will be the greatest of them, and the most disagreeable to the many. still i cannot but say what appears to me to be right and true, cleinias. cleinias: certainly. athenian: he who imagines that he can give laws for the public conduct of states, while he leaves the private life of citizens wholly to take care of itself; who thinks that individuals may pass the day as they please, and that there is no necessity of order in all things; he, i say, who gives up the control of their private lives, and supposes that they will conform to law in their common and public life, is making a great mistake. why have i made this remark? why, because i am going to enact that the bridegrooms should live at the common tables, just as they did before marriage. this was a singularity when first enacted by the legislator in your parts of the world, megillus and cleinias, as i should suppose, on the occasion of some war or other similar danger, which caused the passing of the law, and which would be likely to occur in thinly-peopled places, and in times of pressure. but when men had once tried and been accustomed to a common table, experience showed that the institution greatly conduced to security; and in some such manner the custom of having common tables arose among you. cleinias: likely enough. athenian: i said that there may have been singularity and danger in imposing such a custom at first, but that now there is not the same difficulty. there is, however, another institution which is the natural sequel to this, and would be excellent, if it existed anywhere, but at present it does not. the institution of which i am about to speak is not easily described or executed; and would be like the legislator 'combing wool into the fire,' as people say, or performing any other impossible and useless feat. cleinias: what is the cause, stranger, of this extreme hesitation? athenian: you shall hear without any fruitless loss of time. that which has law and order in a state is the cause of every good, but that which is disordered or ill-ordered is often the ruin of that which is well-ordered; and at this point the argument is now waiting. for with you, cleinias and megillus, the common tables of men are, as i said, a heaven-born and admirable institution, but you are mistaken in leaving the women unregulated by law. they have no similar institution of public tables in the light of day, and just that part of the human race which is by nature prone to secrecy and stealth on account of their weakness--i mean the female sex--has been left without regulation by the legislator, which is a great mistake. and, in consequence of this neglect, many things have grown lax among you, which might have been far better, if they had been only regulated by law; for the neglect of regulations about women may not only be regarded as a neglect of half the entire matter (arist. pol.), but in proportion as woman's nature is inferior to that of men in capacity for virtue, in that degree the consequence of such neglect is more than twice as important. the careful consideration of this matter, and the arranging and ordering on a common principle of all our institutions relating both to men and women, greatly conduces to the happiness of the state. but at present, such is the unfortunate condition of mankind, that no man of sense will even venture to speak of common tables in places and cities in which they have never been established at all; and how can any one avoid being utterly ridiculous, who attempts to compel women to show in public how much they eat and drink? there is nothing at which the sex is more likely to take offence. for women are accustomed to creep into dark places, and when dragged out into the light they will exert their utmost powers of resistance, and be far too much for the legislator. and therefore, as i said before, in most places they will not endure to have the truth spoken without raising a tremendous outcry, but in this state perhaps they may. and if we may assume that our whole discussion about the state has not been mere idle talk, i should like to prove to you, if you will consent to listen, that this institution is good and proper; but if you had rather not, i will refrain. cleinias: there is nothing which we should both of us like better, stranger, than to hear what you have to say. athenian: very good; and you must not be surprised if i go back a little, for we have plenty of leisure, and there is nothing to prevent us from considering in every point of view the subject of law. cleinias: true. athenian: then let us return once more to what we were saying at first. every man should understand that the human race either had no beginning at all, and will never have an end, but always will be and has been; or that it began an immense while ago. cleinias: certainly. athenian: well, and have there not been constitutions and destructions of states, and all sorts of pursuits both orderly and disorderly, and diverse desires of meats and drinks always, and in all the world, and all sorts of changes of the seasons in which animals may be expected to have undergone innumerable transformations of themselves? cleinias: no doubt. athenian: and may we not suppose that vines appeared, which had previously no existence, and also olives, and the gifts of demeter and her daughter, of which one triptolemus was the minister, and that, before these existed, animals took to devouring each other as they do still? cleinias: true. athenian: again, the practice of men sacrificing one another still exists among many nations; while, on the other hand, we hear of other human beings who did not even venture to taste the flesh of a cow and had no animal sacrifices, but only cakes and fruits dipped in honey, and similar pure offerings, but no flesh of animals; from these they abstained under the idea that they ought not to eat them, and might not stain the altars of the gods with blood. for in those days men are said to have lived a sort of orphic life, having the use of all lifeless things, but abstaining from all living things. cleinias: such has been the constant tradition, and is very likely true. athenian: some one might say to us, what is the drift of all this? cleinias: a very pertinent question, stranger. athenian: and therefore i will endeavour, cleinias, if i can, to draw the natural inference. cleinias: proceed. athenian: i see that among men all things depend upon three wants and desires, of which the end is virtue, if they are rightly led by them, or the opposite if wrongly. now these are eating and drinking, which begin at birth--every animal has a natural desire for them, and is violently excited, and rebels against him who says that he must not satisfy all his pleasures and appetites, and get rid of all the corresponding pains--and the third and greatest and sharpest want and desire breaks out last, and is the fire of sexual lust, which kindles in men every species of wantonness and madness. and these three disorders we must endeavour to master by the three great principles of fear and law and right reason; turning them away from that which is called pleasantest to the best, using the muses and the gods who preside over contests to extinguish their increase and influx. but to return:--after marriage let us speak of the birth of children, and after their birth of their nurture and education. in the course of discussion the several laws will be perfected, and we shall at last arrive at the common tables. whether such associations are to be confined to men, or extended to women also, we shall see better when we approach and take a nearer view of them; and we may then determine what previous institutions are required and will have to precede them. as i said before, we shall see them more in detail, and shall be better able to lay down the laws which are proper or suited to them. cleinias: very true. athenian: let us keep in mind the words which have now been spoken; for hereafter there may be need of them. cleinias: what do you bid us keep in mind? athenian: that which we comprehended under the three words--first, eating, secondly, drinking, thirdly, the excitement of love. cleinias: we shall be sure to remember, stranger. athenian: very good. then let us now proceed to marriage, and teach persons in what way they shall beget children, threatening them, if they disobey, with the terrors of the law. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: the bride and bridegroom should consider that they are to produce for the state the best and fairest specimens of children which they can. now all men who are associated in any action always succeed when they attend and give their mind to what they are doing, but when they do not give their mind or have no mind, they fail; wherefore let the bridegroom give his mind to the bride and to the begetting of children, and the bride in like manner give her mind to the bridegroom, and particularly at the time when their children are not yet born. and let the women whom we have chosen be the overseers of such matters, and let them in whatever number, large or small, and at whatever time the magistrates may command, assemble every day in the temple of eileithyia during a third part of the day, and being there assembled, let them inform one another of any one whom they see, whether man or woman, of those who are begetting children, disregarding the ordinances given at the time when the nuptial sacrifices and ceremonies were performed. let the begetting of children and the supervision of those who are begetting them continue ten years and no longer, during the time when marriage is fruitful. but if any continue without children up to this time, let them take counsel with their kindred and with the women holding the office of overseer and be divorced for their mutual benefit. if, however, any dispute arises about what is proper and for the interest of either party, they shall choose ten of the guardians of the law and abide by their permission and appointment. the women who preside over these matters shall enter into the houses of the young, and partly by admonitions and partly by threats make them give over their folly and error: if they persist, let the women go and tell the guardians of the law, and the guardians shall prevent them. but if they too cannot prevent them, they shall bring the matter before the people; and let them write up their names and make oath that they cannot reform such and such an one; and let him who is thus written up, if he cannot in a court of law convict those who have inscribed his name, be deprived of the privileges of a citizen in the following respects:--let him not go to weddings nor to the thanksgivings after the birth of children; and if he go, let any one who pleases strike him with impunity; and let the same regulations hold about women: let not a woman be allowed to appear abroad, or receive honour, or go to nuptial and birthday festivals, if she in like manner be written up as acting disorderly and cannot obtain a verdict. and if, when they themselves have done begetting children according to the law, a man or woman have connexion with another man or woman who are still begetting children, let the same penalties be inflicted upon them as upon those who are still having a family; and when the time for procreation has passed let the man or woman who refrains in such matters be held in esteem, and let those who do not refrain be held in the contrary of esteem--that is to say, disesteem. now, if the greater part of mankind behave modestly, the enactments of law may be left to slumber; but, if they are disorderly, the enactments having been passed, let them be carried into execution. to every man the first year is the beginning of life, and the time of birth ought to be written down in the temples of their fathers as the beginning of existence to every child, whether boy or girl. let every phratria have inscribed on a whited wall the names of the successive archons by whom the years are reckoned. and near to them let the living members of the phratria be inscribed, and when they depart life let them be erased. the limit of marriageable ages for a woman shall be from sixteen to twenty years at the longest,--for a man, from thirty to thirty-five years; and let a woman hold office at forty, and a man at thirty years. let a man go out to war from twenty to sixty years, and for a woman, if there appear any need to make use of her in military service, let the time of service be after she shall have brought forth children up to fifty years of age; and let regard be had to what is possible and suitable to each. book vii. and now, assuming children of both sexes to have been born, it will be proper for us to consider, in the next place, their nurture and education; this cannot be left altogether unnoticed, and yet may be thought a subject fitted rather for precept and admonition than for law. in private life there are many little things, not always apparent, arising out of the pleasures and pains and desires of individuals, which run counter to the intention of the legislator, and make the characters of the citizens various and dissimilar:--this is an evil in states; for by reason of their smallness and frequent occurrence, there would be an unseemliness and want of propriety in making them penal by law; and if made penal, they are the destruction of the written law because mankind get the habit of frequently transgressing the law in small matters. the result is that you cannot legislate about them, and still less can you be silent. i speak somewhat darkly, but i shall endeavour also to bring my wares into the light of day, for i acknowledge that at present there is a want of clearness in what i am saying. cleinias: very true. athenian. am i not right in maintaining that a good education is that which tends most to the improvement of mind and body? cleinias: undoubtedly. athenian: and nothing can be plainer than that the fairest bodies are those which grow up from infancy in the best and straightest manner? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and do we not further observe that the first shoot of every living thing is by far the greatest and fullest? many will even contend that a man at twenty-five does not reach twice the height which he attained at five. cleinias: true. athenian: well, and is not rapid growth without proper and abundant exercise the source endless evils in the body? cleinias: yes. athenian: and the body should have the most exercise when it receives most nourishment? cleinias: but, stranger, are we to impose this great amount of exercise upon newly-born infants? athenian: nay, rather on the bodies of infants still unborn. cleinias: what do you mean, my good sir? in the process of gestation? athenian: exactly. i am not at all surprised that you have never heard of this very peculiar sort of gymnastic applied to such little creatures, which, although strange, i will endeavour to explain to you. cleinias: by all means. athenian: the practice is more easy for us to understand than for you, by reason of certain amusements which are carried to excess by us at athens. not only boys, but often older persons, are in the habit of keeping quails and cocks (compare republic), which they train to fight one another. and they are far from thinking that the contests in which they stir them up to fight with one another are sufficient exercise; for, in addition to this, they carry them about tucked beneath their armpits, holding the smaller birds in their hands, the larger under their arms, and go for a walk of a great many miles for the sake of health, that is to say, not their own health, but the health of the birds; whereby they prove to any intelligent person, that all bodies are benefited by shakings and movements, when they are moved without weariness, whether the motion proceeds from themselves, or is caused by a swing, or at sea, or on horseback, or by other bodies in whatever way moving, and that thus gaining the mastery over food and drink, they are able to impart beauty and health and strength. but admitting all this, what follows? shall we make a ridiculous law that the pregnant woman shall walk about and fashion the embryo within as we fashion wax before it hardens, and after birth swathe the infant for two years? suppose that we compel nurses, under penalty of a legal fine, to be always carrying the children somewhere or other, either to the temples, or into the country, or to their relations' houses, until they are well able to stand, and to take care that their limbs are not distorted by leaning on them when they are too young (compare arist. pol.),--they should continue to carry them until the infant has completed its third year; the nurses should be strong, and there should be more than one of them. shall these be our rules, and shall we impose a penalty for the neglect of them? no, no; the penalty of which we were speaking will fall upon our own heads more than enough. cleinias: what penalty? athenian: ridicule, and the difficulty of getting the feminine and servant-like dispositions of the nurses to comply. cleinias: then why was there any need to speak of the matter at all? athenian: the reason is, that masters and freemen in states, when they hear of it, are very likely to arrive at a true conviction that without due regulation of private life in cities, stability in the laying down of laws is hardly to be expected (compare republic); and he who makes this reflection may himself adopt the laws just now mentioned, and, adopting them, may order his house and state well and be happy. cleinias: likely enough. athenian: and therefore let us proceed with our legislation until we have determined the exercises which are suited to the souls of young children, in the same manner in which we have begun to go through the rules relating to their bodies. cleinias: by all means. athenian: let us assume, then, as a first principle in relation both to the body and soul of very young creatures, that nursing and moving about by day and night is good for them all, and that the younger they are, the more they will need it (compare arist. pol.); infants should live, if that were possible, as if they were always rocking at sea. this is the lesson which we may gather from the experience of nurses, and likewise from the use of the remedy of motion in the rites of the corybantes; for when mothers want their restless children to go to sleep they do not employ rest, but, on the contrary, motion--rocking them in their arms; nor do they give them silence, but they sing to them and lap them in sweet strains; and the bacchic women are cured of their frenzy in the same manner by the use of the dance and of music. cleinias: well, stranger, and what is the reason of this? athenian: the reason is obvious. cleinias: what? athenian: the affection both of the bacchantes and of the children is an emotion of fear, which springs out of an evil habit of the soul. and when some one applies external agitation to affections of this sort, the motion coming from without gets the better of the terrible and violent internal one, and produces a peace and calm in the soul, and quiets the restless palpitation of the heart, which is a thing much to be desired, sending the children to sleep, and making the bacchantes, although they remain awake, to dance to the pipe with the help of the gods to whom they offer acceptable sacrifices, and producing in them a sound mind, which takes the place of their frenzy. and, to express what i mean in a word, there is a good deal to be said in favour of this treatment. cleinias: certainly. athenian: but if fear has such a power we ought to infer from these facts, that every soul which from youth upward has been familiar with fears, will be made more liable to fear (compare republic), and every one will allow that this is the way to form a habit of cowardice and not of courage. cleinias: no doubt. athenian: and, on the other hand, the habit of overcoming, from our youth upwards, the fears and terrors which beset us, may be said to be an exercise of courage. cleinias: true. athenian: and we may say that the use of exercise and motion in the earliest years of life greatly contributes to create a part of virtue in the soul. cleinias: quite true. athenian: further, a cheerful temper, or the reverse, may be regarded as having much to do with high spirit on the one hand, or with cowardice on the other. cleinias: to be sure. athenian: then now we must endeavour to show how and to what extent we may, if we please, without difficulty implant either character in the young. cleinias: certainly. athenian: there is a common opinion, that luxury makes the disposition of youth discontented and irascible and vehemently excited by trifles; that on the other hand excessive and savage servitude makes men mean and abject, and haters of their kind, and therefore makes them undesirable associates. cleinias: but how must the state educate those who do not as yet understand the language of the country, and are therefore incapable of appreciating any sort of instruction? athenian: i will tell you how:--every animal that is born is wont to utter some cry, and this is especially the case with man, and he is also affected with the inclination to weep more than any other animal. cleinias: quite true. athenian: do not nurses, when they want to know what an infant desires, judge by these signs?--when anything is brought to the infant and he is silent, then he is supposed to be pleased, but, when he weeps and cries out, then he is not pleased. for tears and cries are the inauspicious signs by which children show what they love and hate. now the time which is thus spent is no less than three years, and is a very considerable portion of life to be passed ill or well. cleinias: true. athenian: does not the discontented and ungracious nature appear to you to be full of lamentations and sorrows more than a good man ought to be? cleinias: certainly. athenian: well, but if during these three years every possible care were taken that our nursling should have as little of sorrow and fear, and in general of pain as was possible, might we not expect in early childhood to make his soul more gentle and cheerful? (compare arist. pol.) cleinias: to be sure, stranger--more especially if we could procure him a variety of pleasures. athenian: there i can no longer agree, cleinias: you amaze me. to bring him up in such a way would be his utter ruin; for the beginning is always the most critical part of education. let us see whether i am right. cleinias: proceed. athenian: the point about which you and i differ is of great importance, and i hope that you, megillus, will help to decide between us. for i maintain that the true life should neither seek for pleasures, nor, on the other hand, entirely avoid pains, but should embrace the middle state (compare republic), which i just spoke of as gentle and benign, and is a state which we by some divine presage and inspiration rightly ascribe to god. now, i say, he among men, too, who would be divine ought to pursue after this mean habit--he should not rush headlong into pleasures, for he will not be free from pains; nor should we allow any one, young or old, male or female, to be thus given any more than ourselves, and least of all the newly-born infant, for in infancy more than at any other time the character is engrained by habit. nay, more, if i were not afraid of appearing to be ridiculous, i would say that a woman during her year of pregnancy should of all women be most carefully tended, and kept from violent or excessive pleasures and pains, and should at that time cultivate gentleness and benevolence and kindness. cleinias: you need not ask megillus, stranger, which of us has most truly spoken; for i myself agree that all men ought to avoid the life of unmingled pain or pleasure, and pursue always a middle course. and having spoken well, may i add that you have been well answered? athenian: very good, cleinias; and now let us all three consider a further point. cleinias: what is it? athenian: that all the matters which we are now describing are commonly called by the general name of unwritten customs, and what are termed the laws of our ancestors are all of similar nature. and the reflection which lately arose in our minds, that we can neither call these things laws, nor yet leave them unmentioned, is justified; for they are the bonds of the whole state, and come in between the written laws which are or are hereafter to be laid down; they are just ancestral customs of great antiquity, which, if they are rightly ordered and made habitual, shield and preserve the previously existing written law; but if they depart from right and fall into disorder, then they are like the props of builders which slip away out of their place and cause a universal ruin--one part drags another down, and the fair super-structure falls because the old foundations are undermined. reflecting upon this, cleinias, you ought to bind together the new state in every possible way, omitting nothing, whether great or small, of what are called laws or manners or pursuits, for by these means a city is bound together, and all these things are only lasting when they depend upon one another; and, therefore, we must not wonder if we find that many apparently trifling customs or usages come pouring in and lengthening out our laws. cleinias: very true: we are disposed to agree with you. athenian: up to the age of three years, whether of boy or girl, if a person strictly carries out our previous regulations and makes them a principal aim, he will do much for the advantage of the young creatures. but at three, four, five, and even six years the childish nature will require sports; now is the time to get rid of self-will in him, punishing him, but not so as to disgrace him. we were saying about slaves, that we ought neither to add insult to punishment so as to anger them, nor yet to leave them unpunished lest they become self-willed; and a like rule is to be observed in the case of the free-born. children at that age have certain natural modes of amusement which they find out for themselves when they meet. and all the children who are between the ages of three and six ought to meet at the temples of the villages, the several families of a village uniting on one spot. the nurses are to see that the children behave properly and orderly--they themselves and all their companies are to be under the control of twelve matrons, one for each company, who are annually selected to inspect them from the women previously mentioned [i.e. the women who have authority over marriage], whom the guardians of the law appoint. these matrons shall be chosen by the women who have authority over marriage, one out of each tribe; all are to be of the same age; and let each of them, as soon as she is appointed, hold office and go to the temples every day, punishing all offenders, male or female, who are slaves or strangers, by the help of some of the public slaves; but if any citizen disputes the punishment, let her bring him before the wardens of the city; or, if there be no dispute, let her punish him herself. after the age of six years the time has arrived for the separation of the sexes--let boys live with boys, and girls in like manner with girls. now they must begin to learn--the boys going to teachers of horsemanship and the use of the bow, the javelin, and sling, and the girls too, if they do not object, at any rate until they know how to manage these weapons, and especially how to handle heavy arms; for i may note, that the practice which now prevails is almost universally misunderstood. cleinias: in what respect? athenian: in that the right and left hand are supposed to be by nature differently suited for our various uses of them; whereas no difference is found in the use of the feet and the lower limbs; but in the use of the hands we are, as it were, maimed by the folly of nurses and mothers; for although our several limbs are by nature balanced, we create a difference in them by bad habit. in some cases this is of no consequence, as, for example, when we hold the lyre in the left hand, and the plectrum in the right, but it is downright folly to make the same distinction in other cases. the custom of the scythians proves our error; for they not only hold the bow from them with the left hand and draw the arrow to them with their right, but use either hand for both purposes. and there are many similar examples in charioteering and other things, from which we may learn that those who make the left side weaker than the right act contrary to nature. in the case of the plectrum, which is of horn only, and similar instruments, as i was saying, it is of no consequence, but makes a great difference, and may be of very great importance to the warrior who has to use iron weapons, bows and javelins, and the like; above all, when in heavy armour, he has to fight against heavy armour. and there is a very great difference between one who has learnt and one who has not, and between one who has been trained in gymnastic exercises and one who has not been. for as he who is perfectly skilled in the pancratium or boxing or wrestling, is not unable to fight from his left side, and does not limp and draggle in confusion when his opponent makes him change his position, so in heavy-armed fighting, and in all other things, if i am not mistaken, the like holds--he who has these double powers of attack and defence ought not in any case to leave them either unused or untrained, if he can help; and if a person had the nature of geryon or briareus he ought to be able with his hundred hands to throw a hundred darts. now, the magistrates, male and female, should see to all these things, the women superintending the nursing and amusements of the children, and the men superintending their education, that all of them, boys and girls alike, may be sound hand and foot, and may not, if they can help, spoil the gifts of nature by bad habits. education has two branches--one of gymnastic, which is concerned with the body, and the other of music, which is designed for the improvement of the soul. and gymnastic has also two branches--dancing and wrestling; and one sort of dancing imitates musical recitation, and aims at preserving dignity and freedom, the other aims at producing health, agility, and beauty in the limbs and parts of the body, giving the proper flexion and extension to each of them, a harmonious motion being diffused everywhere, and forming a suitable accompaniment to the dance. as regards wrestling, the tricks which antaeus and cercyon devised in their systems out of a vain spirit of competition, or the tricks of boxing which epeius or amycus invented, are useless and unsuitable for war, and do not deserve to have much said about them; but the art of wrestling erect and keeping free the neck and hands and sides, working with energy and constancy, with a composed strength, for the sake of health--these are always useful, and are not to be neglected, but to be enjoined alike on masters and scholars, when we reach that part of legislation; and we will desire the one to give their instructions freely, and the others to receive them thankfully. nor, again, must we omit suitable imitations of war in our choruses; here in crete you have the armed dances of the curetes, and the lacedaemonians have those of the dioscuri. and our virgin lady, delighting in the amusement of the dance, thought it not fit to amuse herself with empty hands; she must be clothed in a complete suit of armour, and in this attire go through the dance; and youths and maidens should in every respect imitate her, esteeming highly the favour of the goddess, both with a view to the necessities of war, and to festive occasions: it will be right also for the boys, until such time as they go out to war, to make processions and supplications to all the gods in goodly array, armed and on horseback, in dances and marches, fast or slow, offering up prayers to the gods and to the sons of gods; and also engaging in contests and preludes of contests, if at all, with these objects. for these sorts of exercises, and no others, are useful both in peace and war, and are beneficial alike to states and to private houses. but other labours and sports and exercises of the body are unworthy of freemen, o megillus and cleinias. i have now completely described the kind of gymnastic which i said at first ought to be described; if you know of any better, will you communicate your thoughts? cleinias: it is not easy, stranger, to put aside these principles of gymnastic and wrestling and to enunciate better ones. athenian: now we must say what has yet to be said about the gifts of the muses and of apollo: before, we fancied that we had said all, and that gymnastic alone remained; but now we see clearly what points have been omitted, and should be first proclaimed; of these, then, let us proceed to speak. cleinias: by all means. athenian: let me tell you once more--although you have heard me say the same before--that caution must be always exercised, both by the speaker and by the hearer, about anything that is very singular and unusual. for my tale is one which many a man would be afraid to tell, and yet i have a confidence which makes me go on. cleinias: what have you to say, stranger? athenian: i say that in states generally no one has observed that the plays of childhood have a great deal to do with the permanence or want of permanence in legislation. for when plays are ordered with a view to children having the same plays, and amusing themselves after the same manner, and finding delight in the same playthings, the more solemn institutions of the state are allowed to remain undisturbed. whereas if sports are disturbed, and innovations are made in them, and they constantly change, and the young never speak of their having the same likings, or the same established notions of good and bad taste, either in the bearing of their bodies or in their dress, but he who devises something new and out of the way in figures and colours and the like is held in special honour, we may truly say that no greater evil can happen in a state; for he who changes the sports is secretly changing the manners of the young, and making the old to be dishonoured among them and the new to be honoured. and i affirm that there is nothing which is a greater injury to all states than saying or thinking thus. will you hear me tell how great i deem the evil to be? cleinias: you mean the evil of blaming antiquity in states? athenian: exactly. cleinias: if you are speaking of that, you will find in us hearers who are disposed to receive what you say not unfavourably but most favourably. athenian: i should expect so. cleinias: proceed. athenian: well, then, let us give all the greater heed to one another's words. the argument affirms that any change whatever except from evil is the most dangerous of all things; this is true in the case of the seasons and of the winds, in the management of our bodies and the habits of our minds--true of all things except, as i said before, of the bad. he who looks at the constitution of individuals accustomed to eat any sort of meat, or drink any drink, or to do any work which they can get, may see that they are at first disordered by them, but afterwards, as time goes on, their bodies grow adapted to them, and they learn to know and like variety, and have good health and enjoyment of life; and if ever afterwards they are confined again to a superior diet, at first they are troubled with disorders, and with difficulty become habituated to their new food. a similar principle we may imagine to hold good about the minds of men and the natures of their souls. for when they have been brought up in certain laws, which by some divine providence have remained unchanged during long ages, so that no one has any memory or tradition of their ever having been otherwise than they are, then every one is afraid and ashamed to change that which is established. the legislator must somehow find a way of implanting this reverence for antiquity, and i would propose the following way: people are apt to fancy, as i was saying before, that when the plays of children are altered they are merely plays, not seeing that the most serious and detrimental consequences arise out of the change; and they readily comply with the child's wishes instead of deterring him, not considering that these children who make innovations in their games, when they grow up to be men, will be different from the last generation of children, and, being different, will desire a different sort of life, and under the influence of this desire will want other institutions and laws; and no one of them reflects that there will follow what i just now called the greatest of evils to states. changes in bodily fashions are no such serious evils, but frequent changes in the praise and censure of manners are the greatest of evils, and require the utmost prevision. cleinias: to be sure. athenian: and now do we still hold to our former assertion, that rhythms and music in general are imitations of good and evil characters in men? what say you? cleinias: that is the only doctrine which we can admit. athenian: must we not, then, try in every possible way to prevent our youth from even desiring to imitate new modes either in dance or song? nor must any one be allowed to offer them varieties of pleasures. cleinias: most true. athenian: can any of us imagine a better mode of effecting this object than that of the egyptians? cleinias: what is their method? athenian: to consecrate every sort of dance or melody. first we should ordain festivals--calculating for the year what they ought to be, and at what time, and in honour of what gods, sons of gods, and heroes they ought to be celebrated; and, in the next place, what hymns ought to be sung at the several sacrifices, and with what dances the particular festival is to be honoured. this has to be arranged at first by certain persons, and, when arranged, the whole assembly of the citizens are to offer sacrifices and libations to the fates and all the other gods, and to consecrate the several odes to gods and heroes: and if any one offers any other hymns or dances to any one of the gods, the priests and priestesses, acting in concert with the guardians of the law, shall, with the sanction of religion and the law, exclude him, and he who is excluded, if he do not submit, shall be liable all his life long to have a suit of impiety brought against him by any one who likes. cleinias: very good. athenian: in the consideration of this subject, let us remember what is due to ourselves. cleinias: to what are you referring? athenian: i mean that any young man, and much more any old one, when he sees or hears anything strange or unaccustomed, does not at once run to embrace the paradox, but he stands considering, like a person who is at a place where three paths meet, and does not very well know his way--he may be alone or he may be walking with others, and he will say to himself and them, 'which is the way?' and will not move forward until he is satisfied that he is going right. and this is what we must do in the present instance: a strange discussion on the subject of law has arisen, which requires the utmost consideration, and we should not at our age be too ready to speak about such great matters, or be confident that we can say anything certain all in a moment. cleinias: most true. athenian: then we will allow time for reflection, and decide when we have given the subject sufficient consideration. but that we may not be hindered from completing the natural arrangement of our laws, let us proceed to the conclusion of them in due order; for very possibly, if god will, the exposition of them, when completed, may throw light on our present perplexity. cleinias: excellent, stranger; let us do as you propose. athenian: let us then affirm the paradox that strains of music are our laws (nomoi), and this latter being the name which the ancients gave to lyric songs, they probably would not have very much objected to our proposed application of the word. some one, either asleep or awake, must have had a dreamy suspicion of their nature. and let our decree be as follows: no one in singing or dancing shall offend against public and consecrated models, and the general fashion among the youth, any more than he would offend against any other law. and he who observes this law shall be blameless; but he who is disobedient, as i was saying, shall be punished by the guardians of the laws, and by the priests and priestesses. suppose that we imagine this to be our law. cleinias: very good. athenian: can any one who makes such laws escape ridicule? let us see. i think that our only safety will be in first framing certain models for composers. one of these models shall be as follows: if when a sacrifice is going on, and the victims are being burnt according to law--if, i say, any one who may be a son or brother, standing by another at the altar and over the victims, horribly blasphemes, will not his words inspire despondency and evil omens and forebodings in the mind of his father and of his other kinsmen? cleinias: of course. athenian: and this is just what takes place in almost all our cities. a magistrate offers a public sacrifice, and there come in not one but many choruses, who take up a position a little way from the altar, and from time to time pour forth all sorts of horrible blasphemies on the sacred rites, exciting the souls of the audience with words and rhythms and melodies most sorrowful to hear; and he who at the moment when the city is offering sacrifice makes the citizens weep most, carries away the palm of victory. now, ought we not to forbid such strains as these? and if ever our citizens must hear such lamentations, then on some unblest and inauspicious day let there be choruses of foreign and hired minstrels, like those hirelings who accompany the departed at funerals with barbarous carian chants. that is the sort of thing which will be appropriate if we have such strains at all; and let the apparel of the singers be, not circlets and ornaments of gold, but the reverse. enough of all this. i will simply ask once more whether we shall lay down as one of our principles of song-- cleinias: what? athenian: that we should avoid every word of evil omen; let that kind of song which is of good omen be heard everywhere and always in our state. i need hardly ask again, but shall assume that you agree with me. cleinias: by all means; that law is approved by the suffrages of us all. athenian: but what shall be our next musical law or type? ought not prayers to be offered up to the gods when we sacrifice? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and our third law, if i am not mistaken, will be to the effect that our poets, understanding prayers to be requests which we make to the gods, will take especial heed that they do not by mistake ask for evil instead of good. to make such a prayer would surely be too ridiculous. cleinias: very true. athenian: were we not a little while ago quite convinced that no silver or golden plutus should dwell in our state? cleinias: to be sure. athenian: and what has it been the object of our argument to show? did we not imply that the poets are not always quite capable of knowing what is good or evil? and if one of them utters a mistaken prayer in song or words, he will make our citizens pray for the opposite of what is good in matters of the highest import; than which, as i was saying, there can be few greater mistakes. shall we then propose as one of our laws and models relating to the muses-- cleinias: what? will you explain the law more precisely? athenian: shall we make a law that the poet shall compose nothing contrary to the ideas of the lawful, or just, or beautiful, or good, which are allowed in the state? nor shall he be permitted to communicate his compositions to any private individuals, until he shall have shown them to the appointed judges and the guardians of the law, and they are satisfied with them. as to the persons whom we appoint to be our legislators about music and as to the director of education, these have been already indicated. once more then, as i have asked more than once, shall this be our third law, and type, and model--what do you say? cleinias: let it be so, by all means. athenian: then it will be proper to have hymns and praises of the gods, intermingled with prayers; and after the gods prayers and praises should be offered in like manner to demigods and heroes, suitable to their several characters. cleinias: certainly. athenian: in the next place there will be no objection to a law, that citizens who are departed and have done good and energetic deeds, either with their souls or with their bodies, and have been obedient to the laws, should receive eulogies; this will be very fitting. cleinias: quite true. athenian: but to honour with hymns and panegyrics those who are still alive is not safe; a man should run his course, and make a fair ending, and then we will praise him; and let praise be given equally to women as well as men who have been distinguished in virtue. the order of songs and dances shall be as follows: there are many ancient musical compositions and dances which are excellent, and from these the newly-founded city may freely select what is proper and suitable; and they shall choose judges of not less than fifty years of age, who shall make the selection, and any of the old poems which they deem sufficient they shall include; any that are deficient or altogether unsuitable, they shall either utterly throw aside, or examine and amend, taking into their counsel poets and musicians, and making use of their poetical genius; but explaining to them the wishes of the legislator in order that they may regulate dancing, music, and all choral strains, according to the mind of the judges; and not allowing them to indulge, except in some few matters, their individual pleasures and fancies. now the irregular strain of music is always made ten thousand times better by attaining to law and order, and rejecting the honeyed muse--not however that we mean wholly to exclude pleasure, which is the characteristic of all music. and if a man be brought up from childhood to the age of discretion and maturity in the use of the orderly and severe music, when he hears the opposite he detests it, and calls it illiberal; but if trained in the sweet and vulgar music, he deems the severer kind cold and displeasing. so that, as i was saying before, while he who hears them gains no more pleasure from the one than from the other, the one has the advantage of making those who are trained in it better men, whereas the other makes them worse. cleinias: very true. athenian: again, we must distinguish and determine on some general principle what songs are suitable to women, and what to men, and must assign to them their proper melodies and rhythms. it is shocking for a whole harmony to be inharmonical, or for a rhythm to be unrhythmical, and this will happen when the melody is inappropriate to them. and therefore the legislator must assign to these also their forms. now both sexes have melodies and rhythms which of necessity belong to them; and those of women are clearly enough indicated by their natural difference. the grand, and that which tends to courage, may be fairly called manly; but that which inclines to moderation and temperance, may be declared both in law and in ordinary speech to be the more womanly quality. this, then, will be the general order of them. let us now speak of the manner of teaching and imparting them, and the persons to whom, and the time when, they are severally to be imparted. as the shipwright first lays down the lines of the keel, and thus, as it were, draws the ship in outline, so do i seek to distinguish the patterns of life, and lay down their keels according to the nature of different men's souls; seeking truly to consider by what means, and in what ways, we may go through the voyage of life best. now human affairs are hardly worth considering in earnest, and yet we must be in earnest about them--a sad necessity constrains us. and having got thus far, there will be a fitness in our completing the matter, if we can only find some suitable method of doing so. but what do i mean? some one may ask this very question, and quite rightly, too. cleinias: certainly. athenian: i say that about serious matters a man should be serious, and about a matter which is not serious he should not be serious; and that god is the natural and worthy object of our most serious and blessed endeavours, for man, as i said before, is made to be the plaything of god, and this, truly considered, is the best of him; wherefore also every man and woman should walk seriously, and pass life in the noblest of pastimes, and be of another mind from what they are at present. cleinias: in what respect? athenian: at present they think that their serious pursuits should be for the sake of their sports, for they deem war a serious pursuit, which must be managed well for the sake of peace; but the truth is, that there neither is, nor has been, nor ever will be, either amusement or instruction in any degree worth speaking of in war, which is nevertheless deemed by us to be the most serious of our pursuits. and therefore, as we say, every one of us should live the life of peace as long and as well as he can. and what is the right way of living? are we to live in sports always? if so, in what kind of sports? we ought to live sacrificing, and singing, and dancing, and then a man will be able to propitiate the gods, and to defend himself against his enemies and conquer them in battle. the type of song or dance by which he will propitiate them has been described, and the paths along which he is to proceed have been cut for him. he will go forward in the spirit of the poet: 'telemachus, some things thou wilt thyself find in thy heart, but other things god will suggest; for i deem that thou wast not born or brought up without the will of the gods.' and this ought to be the view of our alumni; they ought to think that what has been said is enough for them, and that any other things their genius and god will suggest to them--he will tell them to whom, and when, and to what gods severally they are to sacrifice and perform dances, and how they may propitiate the deities, and live according to the appointment of nature; being for the most part puppets, but having some little share of reality. megillus: you have a low opinion of mankind, stranger. athenian: nay, megillus, be not amazed, but forgive me: i was comparing them with the gods; and under that feeling i spoke. let us grant, if you wish, that the human race is not to be despised, but is worthy of some consideration. next follow the buildings for gymnasia and schools open to all; these are to be in three places in the midst of the city; and outside the city and in the surrounding country, also in three places, there shall be schools for horse exercise, and large grounds arranged with a view to archery and the throwing of missiles, at which young men may learn and practise. of these mention has already been made; and if the mention be not sufficiently explicit, let us speak further of them and embody them in laws. in these several schools let there be dwellings for teachers, who shall be brought from foreign parts by pay, and let them teach those who attend the schools the art of war and the art of music, and the children shall come not only if their parents please, but if they do not please; there shall be compulsory education, as the saying is, of all and sundry, as far as this is possible; and the pupils shall be regarded as belonging to the state rather than to their parents. my law would apply to females as well as males; they shall both go through the same exercises. i assert without fear of contradiction that gymnastic and horsemanship are as suitable to women as to men. of the truth of this i am persuaded from ancient tradition, and at the present day there are said to be countless myriads of women in the neighbourhood of the black sea, called sauromatides, who not only ride on horseback like men, but have enjoined upon them the use of bows and other weapons equally with the men. and i further affirm, that if these things are possible, nothing can be more absurd than the practice which prevails in our own country, of men and women not following the same pursuits with all their strength and with one mind, for thus the state, instead of being a whole, is reduced to a half, but has the same imposts to pay and the same toils to undergo; and what can be a greater mistake for any legislator to make than this? cleinias: very true; yet much of what has been asserted by us, stranger, is contrary to the custom of states; still, in saying that the discourse should be allowed to proceed, and that when the discussion is completed, we should choose what seems best, you spoke very properly, and i now feel compunction for what i have said. tell me, then, what you would next wish to say. athenian: i should wish to say, cleinias, as i said before, that if the possibility of these things were not sufficiently proven in fact, then there might be an objection to the argument, but the fact being as i have said, he who rejects the law must find some other ground of objection; and, failing this, our exhortation will still hold good, nor will any one deny that women ought to share as far as possible in education and in other ways with men. for consider; if women do not share in their whole life with men, then they must have some other order of life. cleinias: certainly. athenian: and what arrangement of life to be found anywhere is preferable to this community which we are now assigning to them? shall we prefer that which is adopted by the thracians and many other races who use their women to till the ground and to be shepherds of their herds and flocks, and to minister to them like slaves? or shall we do as we and people in our part of the world do--getting together, as the phrase is, all our goods and chattels into one dwelling, we entrust them to our women, who are the stewards of them, and who also preside over the shuttles and the whole art of spinning? or shall we take a middle course, as in lacedaemon, megillus--letting the girls share in gymnastic and music, while the grown-up women, no longer employed in spinning wool, are hard at work weaving the web of life, which will be no cheap or mean employment, and in the duty of serving and taking care of the household and bringing up the children, in which they will observe a sort of mean, not participating in the toils of war; and if there were any necessity that they should fight for their city and families, unlike the amazons, they would be unable to take part in archery or any other skilled use of missiles, nor could they, after the example of the goddess, carry shield or spear, or stand up nobly for their country when it was being destroyed, and strike terror into their enemies, if only because they were seen in regular order? living as they do, they would never dare at all to imitate the sauromatides, who, when compared with ordinary women, would appear to be like men. let him who will, praise your legislators, but i must say what i think. the legislator ought to be whole and perfect, and not half a man only; he ought not to let the female sex live softly and waste money and have no order of life, while he takes the utmost care of the male sex, and leaves half of life only blest with happiness, when he might have made the whole state happy. megillus: what shall we do, cleinias? shall we allow a stranger to run down sparta in this fashion? cleinias: yes; for as we have given him liberty of speech we must let him go on until we have perfected the work of legislation. megillus: very true. athenian: then now i may proceed? cleinias: by all means. athenian: what will be the manner of life among men who may be supposed to have their food and clothing provided for them in moderation, and who have entrusted the practice of the arts to others, and whose husbandry committed to slaves paying a part of the produce, brings them a return sufficient for men living temperately; who, moreover, have common tables in which the men are placed apart, and near them are the common tables of their families, of their daughters and mothers, which day by day, the officers, male and female, are to inspect--they shall see to the behaviour of the company, and so dismiss them; after which the presiding magistrate and his attendants shall honour with libations those gods to whom that day and night are dedicated, and then go home? to men whose lives are thus ordered, is there no work remaining to be done which is necessary and fitting, but shall each one of them live fattening like a beast? such a life is neither just nor honourable, nor can he who lives it fail of meeting his due; and the due reward of the idle fatted beast is that he should be torn in pieces by some other valiant beast whose fatness is worn down by brave deeds and toil. these regulations, if we duly consider them, will never be exactly carried into execution under present circumstances, nor as long as women and children and houses and all other things are the private property of individuals; but if we can attain the second-best form of polity, we shall be very well off. and to men living under this second polity there remains a work to be accomplished which is far from being small or insignificant, but is the greatest of all works, and ordained by the appointment of righteous law. for the life which may be truly said to be concerned with the virtue of body and soul is twice, or more than twice, as full of toil and trouble as the pursuit after pythian and olympic victories, which debars a man from every employment of life. for there ought to be no bye-work interfering with the greater work of providing the necessary exercise and nourishment for the body, and instruction and education for the soul. night and day are not long enough for the accomplishment of their perfection and consummation; and therefore to this end all freemen ought to arrange the way in which they will spend their time during the whole course of the day, from morning till evening and from evening till the morning of the next sunrise. there may seem to be some impropriety in the legislator determining minutely the numberless details of the management of the house, including such particulars as the duty of wakefulness in those who are to be perpetual watchmen of the whole city; for that any citizen should continue during the whole of any night in sleep, instead of being seen by all his servants, always the first to awake and get up--this, whether the regulation is to be called a law or only a practice, should be deemed base and unworthy of a freeman; also that the mistress of the house should be awakened by her hand-maidens instead of herself first awakening them, is what the slaves, male and female, and the serving-boys, and, if that were possible, everybody and everything in the house should regard as base. if they rise early, they may all of them do much of their public and of their household business, as magistrates in the city, and masters and mistresses in their private houses, before the sun is up. much sleep is not required by nature, either for our souls or bodies, or for the actions which they perform. for no one who is asleep is good for anything, any more than if he were dead; but he of us who has the most regard for life and reason keeps awake as long as he can, reserving only so much time for sleep as is expedient for health; and much sleep is not required, if the habit of moderation be once rightly formed. magistrates in states who keep awake at night are terrible to the bad, whether enemies or citizens, and are honoured and reverenced by the just and temperate, and are useful to themselves and to the whole state. a night which is passed in such a manner, in addition to all the above-mentioned advantages, infuses a sort of courage into the minds of the citizens. when the day breaks, the time has arrived for youth to go to their schoolmasters. now neither sheep nor any other animals can live without a shepherd, nor can children be left without tutors, or slaves without masters. and of all animals the boy is the most unmanageable, inasmuch as he has the fountain of reason in him not yet regulated; he is the most insidious, sharp-witted, and insubordinate of animals. wherefore he must be bound with many bridles; in the first place, when he gets away from mothers and nurses, he must be under the management of tutors on account of his childishness and foolishness; then, again, being a freeman, he must be controlled by teachers, no matter what they teach, and by studies; but he is also a slave, and in that regard any freeman who comes in his way may punish him and his tutor and his instructor, if any of them does anything wrong; and he who comes across him and does not inflict upon him the punishment which he deserves, shall incur the greatest disgrace; and let the guardian of the law, who is the director of education, see to him who coming in the way of the offences which we have mentioned, does not chastise them when he ought, or chastises them in a way which he ought not; let him keep a sharp look-out, and take especial care of the training of our children, directing their natures, and always turning them to good according to the law. but how can our law sufficiently train the director of education himself; for as yet all has been imperfect, and nothing has been said either clear or satisfactory? now, as far as possible, the law ought to leave nothing to him, but to explain everything, that he may be an interpreter and tutor to others. about dances and music and choral strains, i have already spoken both as to the character of the selection of them, and the manner in which they are to be amended and consecrated. but we have not as yet spoken, o illustrious guardian of education, of the manner in which your pupils are to use those strains which are written in prose, although you have been informed what martial strains they are to learn and practise; what relates in the first place to the learning of letters, and secondly, to the lyre, and also to calculation, which, as we were saying, is needful for them all to learn, and any other things which are required with a view to war and the management of house and city, and, looking to the same object, what is useful in the revolutions of the heavenly bodies--the stars and sun and moon, and the various regulations about these matters which are necessary for the whole state--i am speaking of the arrangements of days in periods of months, and of months in years, which are to be observed, in order that seasons and sacrifices and festivals may have their regular and natural order, and keep the city alive and awake, the gods receiving the honours due to them, and men having a better understanding about them: all these things, o my friend, have not yet been sufficiently declared to you by the legislator. attend, then, to what i am now going to say: we were telling you, in the first place, that you were not sufficiently informed about letters, and the objection was to this effect--that you were never told whether he who was meant to be a respectable citizen should apply himself in detail to that sort of learning, or not apply himself at all; and the same remark holds good of the study of the lyre. but now we say that he ought to attend to them. a fair time for a boy of ten years old to spend in letters is three years; the age of thirteen is the proper time for him to begin to handle the lyre, and he may continue at this for another three years, neither more nor less, and whether his father or himself like or dislike the study, he is not to be allowed to spend more or less time in learning music than the law allows. and let him who disobeys the law be deprived of those youthful honours of which we shall hereafter speak. hear, however, first of all, what the young ought to learn in the early years of life, and what their instructors ought to teach them. they ought to be occupied with their letters until they are able to read and write; but the acquisition of perfect beauty or quickness in writing, if nature has not stimulated them to acquire these accomplishments in the given number of years, they should let alone. and as to the learning of compositions committed to writing which are not set to the lyre, whether metrical or without rhythmical divisions, compositions in prose, as they are termed, having no rhythm or harmony--seeing how dangerous are the writings handed down to us by many writers of this class--what will you do with them, o most excellent guardians of the law? or how can the lawgiver rightly direct you about them? i believe that he will be in great difficulty. cleinias: what troubles you, stranger? and why are you so perplexed in your mind? athenian: you naturally ask, cleinias, and to you and megillus, who are my partners in the work of legislation, i must state the more difficult as well as the easier parts of the task. cleinias: to what do you refer in this instance? athenian: i will tell you. there is a difficulty in opposing many myriads of mouths. cleinias: well, and have we not already opposed the popular voice in many important enactments? athenian: that is quite true; and you mean to imply that the road which we are taking may be disagreeable to some but is agreeable to as many others, or if not to as many, at any rate to persons not inferior to the others, and in company with them you bid me, at whatever risk, to proceed along the path of legislation which has opened out of our present discourse, and to be of good cheer, and not to faint. cleinias: certainly. athenian: and i do not faint; i say, indeed, that we have a great many poets writing in hexameter, trimeter, and all sorts of measures--some who are serious, others who aim only at raising a laugh--and all mankind declare that the youth who are rightly educated should be brought up in them and saturated with them; some insist that they should be constantly hearing them read aloud, and always learning them, so as to get by heart entire poets; while others select choice passages and long speeches, and make compendiums of them, saying that these ought to be committed to memory, if a man is to be made good and wise by experience and learning of many things. and you want me now to tell them plainly in what they are right and in what they are wrong. cleinias: yes, i do. athenian: but how can i in one word rightly comprehend all of them? i am of opinion, and, if i am not mistaken, there is a general agreement, that every one of these poets has said many things well and many things the reverse of well; and if this be true, then i do affirm that much learning is dangerous to youth. cleinias: how would you advise the guardian of the law to act? athenian: in what respect? cleinias: i mean to what pattern should he look as his guide in permitting the young to learn some things and forbidding them to learn others. do not shrink from answering. athenian: my good cleinias, i rather think that i am fortunate. cleinias: how so? athenian: i think that i am not wholly in want of a pattern, for when i consider the words which we have spoken from early dawn until now, and which, as i believe, have been inspired by heaven, they appear to me to be quite like a poem. when i reflected upon all these words of ours, i naturally felt pleasure, for of all the discourses which i have ever learnt or heard, either in poetry or prose, this seemed to me to be the justest, and most suitable for young men to hear; i cannot imagine any better pattern than this which the guardian of the law who is also the director of education can have. he cannot do better than advise the teachers to teach the young these words and any which are of a like nature, if he should happen to find them, either in poetry or prose, or if he come across unwritten discourses akin to ours, he should certainly preserve them, and commit them to writing. and, first of all, he shall constrain the teachers themselves to learn and approve them, and any of them who will not, shall not be employed by him, but those whom he finds agreeing in his judgment, he shall make use of and shall commit to them the instruction and education of youth. and here and on this wise let my fanciful tale about letters and teachers of letters come to an end. cleinias: i do not think, stranger, that we have wandered out of the proposed limits of the argument; but whether we are right or not in our whole conception, i cannot be very certain. athenian: the truth, cleinias, may be expected to become clearer when, as we have often said, we arrive at the end of the whole discussion about laws. cleinias: yes. athenian: and now that we have done with the teacher of letters, the teacher of the lyre has to receive orders from us. cleinias: certainly. athenian: i think that we have only to recollect our previous discussions, and we shall be able to give suitable regulations touching all this part of instruction and education to the teachers of the lyre. cleinias: to what do you refer? athenian: we were saying, if i remember rightly, that the sixty years old choristers of dionysus were to be specially quick in their perceptions of rhythm and musical composition, that they might be able to distinguish good and bad imitation, that is to say, the imitation of the good or bad soul when under the influence of passion, rejecting the one and displaying the other in hymns and songs, charming the souls of youth, and inviting them to follow and attain virtue by the way of imitation. cleinias: very true. athenian: and with this view the teacher and the learner ought to use the sounds of the lyre, because its notes are pure, the player who teaches and his pupil rendering note for note in unison; but complexity, and variation of notes, when the strings give one sound and the poet or composer of the melody gives another--also when they make concords and harmonies in which lesser and greater intervals, slow and quick, or high and low notes, are combined--or, again, when they make complex variations of rhythms, which they adapt to the notes of the lyre--all that sort of thing is not suited to those who have to acquire speedy and useful knowledge of music in three years; for opposite principles are confusing, and create a difficulty in learning, and our young men should learn quickly, and their mere necessary acquirements are not few or trifling, as will be shown in due course. let the director of education attend to the principles concerning music which we are laying down. as to the songs and words themselves which the masters of choruses are to teach and the character of them, they have been already described by us, and are the same which, when consecrated and adapted to the different festivals, we said were to benefit cities by affording them an innocent amusement. cleinias: that, again, is true. athenian: then let him who has been elected a director of music receive these rules from us as containing the very truth; and may he prosper in his office! let us now proceed to lay down other rules in addition to the preceding about dancing and gymnastic exercise in general. having said what remained to be said about the teaching of music, let us speak in like manner about gymnastic. for boys and girls ought to learn to dance and practise gymnastic exercises--ought they not? cleinias: yes. athenian: then the boys ought to have dancing masters, and the girls dancing mistresses to exercise them. cleinias: very good. athenian: then once more let us summon him who has the chief concern in the business, the superintendent of youth [i.e. the director of education]; he will have plenty to do, if he is to have the charge of music and gymnastic. cleinias: but how will an old man be able to attend to such great charges? athenian: o my friend, there will be no difficulty, for the law has already given and will give him permission to select as his assistants in this charge any citizens, male or female, whom he desires; and he will know whom he ought to choose, and will be anxious not to make a mistake, from a due sense of responsibility, and from a consciousness of the importance of his office, and also because he will consider that if young men have been and are well brought up, then all things go swimmingly, but if not, it is not meet to say, nor do we say, what will follow, lest the regarders of omens should take alarm about our infant state. many things have been said by us about dancing and about gymnastic movements in general; for we include under gymnastics all military exercises, such as archery, and all hurling of weapons, and the use of the light shield, and all fighting with heavy arms, and military evolutions, and movements of armies, and encampings, and all that relates to horsemanship. of all these things there ought to be public teachers, receiving pay from the state, and their pupils should be the men and boys in the state, and also the girls and women, who are to know all these things. while they are yet girls they should have practised dancing in arms and the whole art of fighting--when grown-up women, they should apply themselves to evolutions and tactics, and the mode of grounding and taking up arms; if for no other reason, yet in case the whole military force should have to leave the city and carry on operations of war outside, that those who will have to guard the young and the rest of the city may be equal to the task; and, on the other hand, when enemies, whether barbarian or hellenic, come from without with mighty force and make a violent assault upon them, and thus compel them to fight for the possession of the city, which is far from being an impossibility, great would be the disgrace to the state, if the women had been so miserably trained that they could not fight for their young, as birds will, against any creature however strong, and die or undergo any danger, but must instantly rush to the temples and crowd at the altars and shrines, and bring upon human nature the reproach, that of all animals man is the most cowardly! cleinias: such a want of education, stranger, is certainly an unseemly thing to happen in a state, as well as a great misfortune. athenian: suppose that we carry our law to the extent of saying that women ought not to neglect military matters, but that all citizens, male and female alike, shall attend to them? cleinias: i quite agree. athenian: of wrestling we have spoken in part, but of what i should call the most important part we have not spoken, and cannot easily speak without showing at the same time by gesture as well as in word what we mean; when word and action combine, and not till then, we shall explain clearly what has been said, pointing out that of all movements wrestling is most akin to the military art, and is to be pursued for the sake of this, and not this for the sake of wrestling. cleinias: excellent. athenian: enough of wrestling; we will now proceed to speak of other movements of the body. such motion may be in general called dancing, and is of two kinds: one of nobler figures, imitating the honourable, the other of the more ignoble figures, imitating the mean; and of both these there are two further subdivisions. of the serious, one kind is of those engaged in war and vehement action, and is the exercise of a noble person and a manly heart; the other exhibits a temperate soul in the enjoyment of prosperity and modest pleasures, and may be truly called and is the dance of peace. the warrior dance is different from the peaceful one, and may be rightly termed pyrrhic; this imitates the modes of avoiding blows and missiles by dropping or giving way, or springing aside, or rising up or falling down; also the opposite postures which are those of action, as, for example, the imitation of archery and the hurling of javelins, and of all sorts of blows. and when the imitation is of brave bodies and souls, and the action is direct and muscular, giving for the most part a straight movement to the limbs of the body--that, i say, is the true sort; but the opposite is not right. in the dance of peace what we have to consider is whether a man bears himself naturally and gracefully, and after the manner of men who duly conform to the law. but before proceeding i must distinguish the dancing about which there is any doubt, from that about which there is no doubt. which is the doubtful kind, and how are the two to be distinguished? there are dances of the bacchic sort, both those in which, as they say, they imitate drunken men, and which are named after the nymphs, and pan, and silenuses, and satyrs; and also those in which purifications are made or mysteries celebrated--all this sort of dancing cannot be rightly defined as having either a peaceful or a warlike character, or indeed as having any meaning whatever, and may, i think, be most truly described as distinct from the warlike dance, and distinct from the peaceful, and not suited for a city at all. there let it lie; and so leaving it to lie, we will proceed to the dances of war and peace, for with these we are undoubtedly concerned. now the unwarlike muse, which honours in dance the gods and the sons of the gods, is entirely associated with the consciousness of prosperity; this class may be subdivided into two lesser classes, of which one is expressive of an escape from some labour or danger into good, and has greater pleasures, the other expressive of preservation and increase of former good, in which the pleasure is less exciting--in all these cases, every man when the pleasure is greater, moves his body more, and less when the pleasure is less; and, again, if he be more orderly and has learned courage from discipline he moves less, but if he be a coward, and has no training or self-control, he makes greater and more violent movements, and in general when he is speaking or singing he is not altogether able to keep his body still; and so out of the imitation of words in gestures the whole art of dancing has arisen. and in these various kinds of imitation one man moves in an orderly, another in a disorderly manner; and as the ancients may be observed to have given many names which are according to nature and deserving of praise, so there is an excellent one which they have given to the dances of men who in their times of prosperity are moderate in their pleasures--the giver of names, whoever he was, assigned to them a very true, and poetical, and rational name, when he called them emmeleiai, or dances of order, thus establishing two kinds of dances of the nobler sort, the dance of war which he called the pyrrhic, and the dance of peace which he called emmeleia, or the dance of order; giving to each their appropriate and becoming name. these things the legislator should indicate in general outline, and the guardian of the law should enquire into them and search them out, combining dancing with music, and assigning to the several sacrificial feasts that which is suitable to them; and when he has consecrated all of them in due order, he shall for the future change nothing, whether of dance or song. thenceforward the city and the citizens shall continue to have the same pleasures, themselves being as far as possible alike, and shall live well and happily. i have described the dances which are appropriate to noble bodies and generous souls. but it is necessary also to consider and know uncomely persons and thoughts, and those which are intended to produce laughter in comedy, and have a comic character in respect of style, song, and dance, and of the imitations which these afford. for serious things cannot be understood without laughable things, nor opposites at all without opposites, if a man is really to have intelligence of either; but he cannot carry out both in action, if he is to have any degree of virtue. and for this very reason he should learn them both, in order that he may not in ignorance do or say anything which is ridiculous and out of place--he should command slaves and hired strangers to imitate such things, but he should never take any serious interest in them himself, nor should any freeman or freewoman be discovered taking pains to learn them; and there should always be some element of novelty in the imitation. let these then be laid down, both in law and in our discourse, as the regulations of laughable amusements which are generally called comedy. and, if any of the serious poets, as they are termed, who write tragedy, come to us and say--'o strangers, may we go to your city and country or may we not, and shall we bring with us our poetry--what is your will about these matters?'--how shall we answer the divine men? i think that our answer should be as follows: best of strangers, we will say to them, we also according to our ability are tragic poets, and our tragedy is the best and noblest; for our whole state is an imitation of the best and noblest life, which we affirm to be indeed the very truth of tragedy. you are poets and we are poets, both makers of the same strains, rivals and antagonists in the noblest of dramas, which true law can alone perfect, as our hope is. do not then suppose that we shall all in a moment allow you to erect your stage in the agora, or introduce the fair voices of your actors, speaking above our own, and permit you to harangue our women and children, and the common people, about our institutions, in language other than our own, and very often the opposite of our own. for a state would be mad which gave you this licence, until the magistrates had determined whether your poetry might be recited, and was fit for publication or not. wherefore, o ye sons and scions of the softer muses, first of all show your songs to the magistrates, and let them compare them with our own, and if they are the same or better we will give you a chorus; but if not, then, my friends, we cannot. let these, then, be the customs ordained by law about all dances and the teaching of them, and let matters relating to slaves be separated from those relating to masters, if you do not object. cleinias: we can have no hesitation in assenting when you put the matter thus. athenian: there still remain three studies suitable for freemen. arithmetic is one of them; the measurement of length, surface, and depth is the second; and the third has to do with the revolutions of the stars in relation to one another. not every one has need to toil through all these things in a strictly scientific manner, but only a few, and who they are to be we will hereafter indicate at the end, which will be the proper place; not to know what is necessary for mankind in general, and what is the truth, is disgraceful to every one: and yet to enter into these matters minutely is neither easy, nor at all possible for every one; but there is something in them which is necessary and cannot be set aside, and probably he who made the proverb about god originally had this in view when he said, that 'not even god himself can fight against necessity;' he meant, if i am not mistaken, divine necessity; for as to the human necessities of which the many speak, when they talk in this manner, nothing can be more ridiculous than such an application of the words. cleinias: and what necessities of knowledge are there, stranger, which are divine and not human? athenian: i conceive them to be those of which he who has no use nor any knowledge at all cannot be a god, or demi-god, or hero to mankind, or able to take any serious thought or charge of them. and very unlike a divine man would he be, who is unable to count one, two, three, or to distinguish odd and even numbers, or is unable to count at all, or reckon night and day, and who is totally unacquainted with the revolution of the sun and moon, and the other stars. there would be great folly in supposing that all these are not necessary parts of knowledge to him who intends to know anything about the highest kinds of knowledge; but which these are, and how many there are of them, and when they are to be learned, and what is to be learned together and what apart, and the whole correlation of them, must be rightly apprehended first; and these leading the way we may proceed to the other parts of knowledge. for so necessity grounded in nature constrains us, against which we say that no god contends, or ever will contend. cleinias: i think, stranger, that what you have now said is very true and agreeable to nature. athenian: yes, cleinias, that is so. but it is difficult for the legislator to begin with these studies; at a more convenient time we will make regulations for them. cleinias: you seem, stranger, to be afraid of our habitual ignorance of the subject: there is no reason why that should prevent you from speaking out. athenian: i certainly am afraid of the difficulties to which you allude, but i am still more afraid of those who apply themselves to this sort of knowledge, and apply themselves badly. for entire ignorance is not so terrible or extreme an evil, and is far from being the greatest of all; too much cleverness and too much learning, accompanied with an ill bringing up, are far more fatal. cleinias: true. athenian: all freemen i conceive, should learn as much of these branches of knowledge as every child in egypt is taught when he learns the alphabet. in that country arithmetical games have been invented for the use of mere children, which they learn as a pleasure and amusement. they have to distribute apples and garlands, using the same number sometimes for a larger and sometimes for a lesser number of persons; and they arrange pugilists and wrestlers as they pair together by lot or remain over, and show how their turns come in natural order. another mode of amusing them is to distribute vessels, sometimes of gold, brass, silver, and the like, intermixed with one another, sometimes of one metal only; as i was saying they adapt to their amusement the numbers in common use, and in this way make more intelligible to their pupils the arrangements and movements of armies and expeditions, and in the management of a household they make people more useful to themselves, and more wide awake; and again in measurements of things which have length, and breadth, and depth, they free us from that natural ignorance of all these things which is so ludicrous and disgraceful. cleinias: what kind of ignorance do you mean? athenian: o my dear cleinias, i, like yourself, have late in life heard with amazement of our ignorance in these matters; to me we appear to be more like pigs than men, and i am quite ashamed, not only of myself, but of all hellenes. cleinias: about what? say, stranger, what you mean. athenian: i will; or rather i will show you my meaning by a question, and do you please to answer me: you know, i suppose, what length is? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and what breadth is? cleinias: to be sure. athenian: and you know that these are two distinct things, and that there is a third thing called depth? cleinias: of course. athenian: and do not all these seem to you to be commensurable with themselves? cleinias: yes. athenian: that is to say, length is naturally commensurable with length, and breadth with breadth, and depth in like manner with depth? cleinias: undoubtedly. athenian: but if some things are commensurable and others wholly incommensurable, and you think that all things are commensurable, what is your position in regard to them? cleinias: clearly, far from good. athenian: concerning length and breadth when compared with depth, or breadth and length when compared with one another, are not all the hellenes agreed that these are commensurable with one another in some way? cleinias: quite true. athenian: but if they are absolutely incommensurable, and yet all of us regard them as commensurable, have we not reason to be ashamed of our compatriots; and might we not say to them: o ye best of hellenes, is not this one of the things of which we were saying that not to know them is disgraceful, and of which to have a bare knowledge only is no great distinction? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and there are other things akin to these, in which there spring up other errors of the same family. cleinias: what are they? athenian: the natures of commensurable and incommensurable quantities in their relation to one another. a man who is good for anything ought to be able, when he thinks, to distinguish them; and different persons should compete with one another in asking questions, which will be a far better and more graceful way of passing their time than the old man's game of draughts. cleinias: i dare say; and these pastimes are not so very unlike a game of draughts. athenian: and these, as i maintain, cleinias, are the studies which our youth ought to learn, for they are innocent and not difficult; the learning of them will be an amusement, and they will benefit the state. if any one is of another mind, let him say what he has to say. cleinias: certainly. athenian: then if these studies are such as we maintain, we will include them; if not, they shall be excluded. cleinias: assuredly: but may we not now, stranger, prescribe these studies as necessary, and so fill up the lacunae of our laws? athenian: they shall be regarded as pledges which may be hereafter redeemed and removed from our state, if they do not please either us who give them, or you who accept them. cleinias: a fair condition. athenian: next let us see whether we are or are not willing that the study of astronomy shall be proposed for our youth. cleinias: proceed. athenian: here occurs a strange phenomenon, which certainly cannot in any point of view be tolerated. cleinias: to what are you referring? athenian: men say that we ought not to enquire into the supreme god and the nature of the universe, nor busy ourselves in searching out the causes of things, and that such enquiries are impious; whereas the very opposite is the truth. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: perhaps what i am saying may seem paradoxical, and at variance with the usual language of age. but when any one has any good and true notion which is for the advantage of the state and in every way acceptable to god, he cannot abstain from expressing it. cleinias: your words are reasonable enough; but shall we find any good or true notion about the stars? athenian: my good friends, at this hour all of us hellenes tell lies, if i may use such an expression, about those great gods, the sun and the moon. cleinias: lies of what nature? athenian: we say that they and divers other stars do not keep the same path, and we call them planets or wanderers. cleinias: very true, stranger; and in the course of my life i have often myself seen the morning star and the evening star and divers others not moving in their accustomed course, but wandering out of their path in all manner of ways, and i have seen the sun and moon doing what we all know that they do. athenian: just so, megillus and cleinias; and i maintain that our citizens and our youth ought to learn about the nature of the gods in heaven, so far as to be able to offer sacrifices and pray to them in pious language, and not to blaspheme about them. cleinias: there you are right, if such a knowledge be only attainable; and if we are wrong in our mode of speaking now, and can be better instructed and learn to use better language, then i quite agree with you that such a degree of knowledge as will enable us to speak rightly should be acquired by us. and now do you try to explain to us your whole meaning, and we, on our part, will endeavour to understand you. athenian: there is some difficulty in understanding my meaning, but not a very great one, nor will any great length of time be required. and of this i am myself a proof; for i did not know these things long ago, nor in the days of my youth, and yet i can explain them to you in a brief space of time; whereas if they had been difficult i could certainly never have explained them all, old as i am, to old men like yourselves. cleinias: true; but what is this study which you describe as wonderful and fitting for youth to learn, but of which we are ignorant? try and explain the nature of it to us as clearly as you can. athenian: i will. for, o my good friends, that other doctrine about the wandering of the sun and the moon and the other stars is not the truth, but the very reverse of the truth. each of them moves in the same path--not in many paths, but in one only, which is circular, and the varieties are only apparent. nor are we right in supposing that the swiftest of them is the slowest, nor conversely, that the slowest is the quickest. and if what i say is true, only just imagine that we had a similar notion about horses running at olympia, or about men who ran in the long course, and that we addressed the swiftest as the slowest and the slowest as the swiftest, and sang the praises of the vanquished as though he were the victor--in that case our praises would not be true, nor very agreeable to the runners, though they be but men; and now, to commit the same error about the gods which would have been ludicrous and erroneous in the case of men--is not that ludicrous and erroneous? cleinias: worse than ludicrous, i should say. athenian: at all events, the gods cannot like us to be spreading a false report of them. cleinias: most true, if such is the fact. athenian: and if we can show that such is really the fact, then all these matters ought to be learned so far as is necessary for the avoidance of impiety; but if we cannot, they may be let alone, and let this be our decision. cleinias: very good. athenian: enough of laws relating to education and learning. but hunting and similar pursuits in like manner claim our attention. for the legislator appears to have a duty imposed upon him which goes beyond mere legislation. there is something over and above law which lies in a region between admonition and law, and has several times occurred to us in the course of discussion; for example, in the education of very young children there were things, as we maintain, which are not to be defined, and to regard them as matters of positive law is a great absurdity. now, our laws and the whole constitution of our state having been thus delineated, the praise of the virtuous citizen is not complete when he is described as the person who serves the laws best and obeys them most, but the higher form of praise is that which describes him as the good citizen who passes through life undefiled and is obedient to the words of the legislator, both when he is giving laws and when he assigns praise and blame. this is the truest word that can be spoken in praise of a citizen; and the true legislator ought not only to write his laws, but also to interweave with them all such things as seem to him honourable and dishonourable. and the perfect citizen ought to seek to strengthen these no less than the principles of law which are sanctioned by punishments. i will adduce an example which will clear up my meaning, and will be a sort of witness to my words. hunting is of wide extent, and has a name under which many things are included, for there is a hunting of creatures in the water, and of creatures in the air, and there is a great deal of hunting of land animals of all kinds, and not of wild beasts only. the hunting after man is also worthy of consideration; there is the hunting after him in war, and there is often a hunting after him in the way of friendship, which is praised and also blamed; and there is thieving, and the hunting which is practised by robbers, and that of armies against armies. now the legislator, in laying down laws about hunting, can neither abstain from noting these things, nor can he make threatening ordinances which will assign rules and penalties about all of them. what is he to do? he will have to praise and blame hunting with a view to the exercise and pursuits of youth. and, on the other hand, the young man must listen obediently; neither pleasure nor pain should hinder him, and he should regard as his standard of action the praises and injunctions of the legislator rather than the punishments which he imposes by law. this being premised, there will follow next in order moderate praise and censure of hunting; the praise being assigned to that kind which will make the souls of young men better, and the censure to that which has the opposite effect. and now let us address young men in the form of a prayer for their welfare: o friends, we will say to them, may no desire or love of hunting in the sea, or of angling or of catching the creatures in the waters, ever take possession of you, either when you are awake or when you are asleep, by hook or with weels, which latter is a very lazy contrivance; and let not any desire of catching men and of piracy by sea enter into your souls and make you cruel and lawless hunters. and as to the desire of thieving in town or country, may it never enter into your most passing thoughts; nor let the insidious fancy of catching birds, which is hardly worthy of freemen, come into the head of any youth. there remains therefore for our athletes only the hunting and catching of land animals, of which the one sort is called hunting by night, in which the hunters sleep in turn and are lazy; this is not to be commended any more than that which has intervals of rest, in which the wild strength of beasts is subdued by nets and snares, and not by the victory of a laborious spirit. thus, only the best kind of hunting is allowed at all--that of quadrupeds, which is carried on with horses and dogs and men's own persons, and they get the victory over the animals by running them down and striking them and hurling at them, those who have a care of godlike manhood taking them with their own hands. the praise and blame which is assigned to all these things has now been declared; and let the law be as follows: let no one hinder these who verily are sacred hunters from following the chase wherever and whithersoever they will; but the hunter by night, who trusts to his nets and gins, shall not be allowed to hunt anywhere. the fowler in the mountains and waste places shall be permitted, but on cultivated ground and on consecrated wilds he shall not be permitted; and any one who meets him may stop him. as to the hunter in waters, he may hunt anywhere except in harbours or sacred streams or marshes or pools, provided only that he do not pollute the water with poisonous juices. and now we may say that all our enactments about education are complete. cleinias: very good. book viii. athenian: next, with the help of the delphian oracle, we have to institute festivals and make laws about them, and to determine what sacrifices will be for the good of the city, and to what gods they shall be offered; but when they shall be offered, and how often, may be partly regulated by us. cleinias: the number--yes. athenian: then we will first determine the number; and let the whole number be --one for every day--so that one magistrate at least will sacrifice daily to some god or demi-god on behalf of the city, and the citizens, and their possessions. and the interpreters, and priests, and priestesses, and prophets shall meet, and, in company with the guardians of the law, ordain those things which the legislator of necessity omits; and i may remark that they are the very persons who ought to take note of what is omitted. the law will say that there are twelve feasts dedicated to the twelve gods, after whom the several tribes are named; and that to each of them they shall sacrifice every month, and appoint choruses, and musical and gymnastic contests, assigning them so as to suit the gods and seasons of the year. and they shall have festivals for women, distinguishing those which ought to be separated from the men's festivals, and those which ought not. further, they shall not confuse the infernal deities and their rites with the gods who are termed heavenly and their rites, but shall separate them, giving to pluto his own in the twelfth month, which is sacred to him, according to the law. to such a deity warlike men should entertain no aversion, but they should honour him as being always the best friend of man. for the connexion of soul and body is no way better than the dissolution of them, as i am ready to maintain quite seriously. moreover, those who would regulate these matters rightly should consider, that our city among existing cities has no fellow, either in respect of leisure or command of the necessaries of life, and that like an individual she ought to live happily. and those who would live happily should in the first place do no wrong to one another, and ought not themselves to be wronged by others; to attain the first is not difficult, but there is great difficulty in acquiring the power of not being wronged. no man can be perfectly secure against wrong, unless he has become perfectly good; and cities are like individuals in this, for a city if good has a life of peace, but if evil, a life of war within and without. wherefore the citizens ought to practise war--not in time of war, but rather while they are at peace. and every city which has any sense, should take the field at least for one day in every month, and for more if the magistrates think fit, having no regard to winter cold or summer heat; and they should go out en masse, including their wives and their children, when the magistrates determine to lead forth the whole people, or in separate portions when summoned by them; and they should always provide that there should be games and sacrificial feasts, and they should have tournaments, imitating in as lively a manner as they can real battles. and they should distribute prizes of victory and valour to the competitors, passing censures and encomiums on one another according to the characters which they bear in the contests and in their whole life, honouring him who seems to be the best, and blaming him who is the opposite. and let poets celebrate the victors--not however every poet, but only one who in the first place is not less than fifty years of age; nor should he be one who, although he may have musical and poetical gifts, has never in his life done any noble or illustrious action; but those who are themselves good and also honourable in the state, creators of noble actions--let their poems be sung, even though they be not very musical. and let the judgment of them rest with the instructor of youth and the other guardians of the laws, who shall give them this privilege, and they alone shall be free to sing; but the rest of the world shall not have this liberty. nor shall any one dare to sing a song which has not been approved by the judgment of the guardians of the laws, not even if his strain be sweeter than the songs of thamyras and orpheus; but only such poems as have been judged sacred and dedicated to the gods, and such as are the works of good men, in which praise or blame has been awarded and which have been deemed to fulfil their design fairly. the regulations about war, and about liberty of speech in poetry, ought to apply equally to men and women. the legislator may be supposed to argue the question in his own mind: who are my citizens for whom i have set in order the city? are they not competitors in the greatest of all contests, and have they not innumerable rivals? to be sure, will be the natural reply. well, but if we were training boxers, or pancratiasts, or any other sort of athletes, would they never meet until the hour of contest arrived; and should we do nothing to prepare ourselves previously by daily practice? surely, if we were boxers, we should have been learning to fight for many days before, and exercising ourselves in imitating all those blows and wards which we were intending to use in the hour of conflict; and in order that we might come as near to reality as possible, instead of cestuses we should put on boxing-gloves, that the blows and the wards might be practised by us to the utmost of our power. and if there were a lack of competitors, the ridicule of fools would not deter us from hanging up a lifeless image and practising at that. or if we had no adversary at all, animate or inanimate, should we not venture in the dearth of antagonists to spar by ourselves? in what other manner could we ever study the art of self-defence? cleinias: the way which you mention, stranger, would be the only way. athenian: and shall the warriors of our city, who are destined when occasion calls to enter the greatest of all contests, and to fight for their lives, and their children, and their property, and the whole city, be worse prepared than boxers? and will the legislator, because he is afraid that their practising with one another may appear to some ridiculous, abstain from commanding them to go out and fight; will he not ordain that soldiers shall perform lesser exercises without arms every day, making dancing and all gymnastic tend to this end; and also will he not require that they shall practise some gymnastic exercises, greater as well as lesser, as often as every month; and that they shall have contests one with another in every part of the country, seizing upon posts and lying in ambush, and imitating in every respect the reality of war; fighting with boxing-gloves and hurling javelins, and using weapons somewhat dangerous, and as nearly as possible like the true ones, in order that the sport may not be altogether without fear, but may have terrors and to a certain degree show the man who has and who has not courage; and that the honour and dishonour which are assigned to them respectively, may prepare the whole city for the true conflict of life? if any one dies in these mimic contests, the homicide is involuntary, and we will make the slayer, when he has been purified according to law, to be pure of blood, considering that if a few men should die, others as good as they will be born; but that if fear is dead, then the citizens will never find a test of superior and inferior natures, which is a far greater evil to the state than the loss of a few. cleinias: we are quite agreed, stranger, that we should legislate about such things, and that the whole state should practise them. athenian: and what is the reason that dances and contests of this sort hardly ever exist in states, at least not to any extent worth speaking of? is this due to the ignorance of mankind and their legislators? cleinias: perhaps. athenian: certainly not, sweet cleinias; there are two causes, which are quite enough to account for the deficiency. cleinias: what are they? athenian: one cause is the love of wealth, which wholly absorbs men, and never for a moment allows them to think of anything but their own private possessions; on this the soul of every citizen hangs suspended, and can attend to nothing but his daily gain; mankind are ready to learn any branch of knowledge, and to follow any pursuit which tends to this end, and they laugh at every other: that is one reason why a city will not be in earnest about such contests or any other good and honourable pursuit. but from an insatiable love of gold and silver, every man will stoop to any art or contrivance, seemly or unseemly, in the hope of becoming rich; and will make no objection to performing any action, holy, or unholy and utterly base; if only like a beast he have the power of eating and drinking all kinds of things, and procuring for himself in every sort of way the gratification of his lusts. cleinias: true. athenian: let this, then, be deemed one of the causes which prevent states from pursuing in an efficient manner the art of war, or any other noble aim, but makes the orderly and temperate part of mankind into merchants, and captains of ships, and servants, and converts the valiant sort into thieves and burglars, and robbers of temples, and violent, tyrannical persons; many of whom are not without ability, but they are unfortunate. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: must not they be truly unfortunate whose souls are compelled to pass through life always hungering? cleinias: then that is one cause, stranger; but you spoke of another. athenian: thank you for reminding me. cleinias: the insatiable lifelong love of wealth, as you were saying, is one cause which absorbs mankind, and prevents them from rightly practising the arts of war: granted; and now tell me, what is the other? athenian: do you imagine that i delay because i am in a perplexity? cleinias: no; but we think that you are too severe upon the money-loving temper, of which you seem in the present discussion to have a peculiar dislike. athenian: that is a very fair rebuke, cleinias; and i will now proceed to the second cause. cleinias: proceed. athenian: i say that governments are a cause--democracy, oligarchy, tyranny, concerning which i have often spoken in the previous discourse; or rather governments they are not, for none of them exercises a voluntary rule over voluntary subjects; but they may be truly called states of discord, in which while the government is voluntary, the subjects always obey against their will, and have to be coerced; and the ruler fears the subject, and will not, if he can help, allow him to become either noble, or rich, or strong, or valiant, or warlike at all. these two are the chief causes of almost all evils, and of the evils of which i have been speaking they are notably the causes. but our state has escaped both of them; for her citizens have the greatest leisure, and they are not subject to one another, and will, i think, be made by these laws the reverse of lovers of money. such a constitution may be reasonably supposed to be the only one existing which will accept the education which we have described, and the martial pastimes which have been perfected according to our idea. cleinias: true. athenian: then next we must remember, about all gymnastic contests, that only the warlike sort of them are to be practised and to have prizes of victory; and those which are not military are to be given up. the military sort had better be completely described and established by law; and first, let us speak of running and swiftness. cleinias: very good. athenian: certainly the most military of all qualities is general activity of body, whether of foot or hand. for escaping or for capturing an enemy, quickness of foot is required; but hand-to-hand conflict and combat need vigour and strength. cleinias: very true. athenian: neither of them can attain their greatest efficiency without arms. cleinias: how can they? athenian: then our herald, in accordance with the prevailing practice, will first summon the runner--he will appear armed, for to an unarmed competitor we will not give a prize. and he shall enter first who is to run the single course bearing arms; next, he who is to run the double course; third, he who is to run the horse-course; and fourthly, he who is to run the long course; the fifth whom we start, shall be the first sent forth in heavy armour, and shall run a course of sixty stadia to some temple of ares--and we will send forth another, whom we will style the more heavily armed, to run over smoother ground. there remains the archer; and he shall run in the full equipments of an archer a distance of stadia over mountains, and across every sort of country, to a temple of apollo and artemis; this shall be the order of the contest, and we will wait for them until they return, and will give a prize to the conqueror in each. cleinias: very good. athenian: let us suppose that there are three kinds of contests--one of boys, another of beardless youths, and a third of men. for the youths we will fix the length of the contest at two-thirds, and for the boys at half of the entire course, whether they contend as archers or as heavy-armed. touching the women, let the girls who are not grown up compete naked in the stadium and the double course, and the horse-course and the long course, and let them run on the race-ground itself; those who are thirteen years of age and upwards until their marriage shall continue to share in contests if they are not more than twenty, and shall be compelled to run up to eighteen; and they shall descend into the arena in suitable dresses. let these be the regulations about contests in running both for men and women. respecting contests of strength, instead of wrestling and similar contests of the heavier sort, we will institute conflicts in armour of one against one, and two against two, and so on up to ten against ten. as to what a man ought not to suffer or do, and to what extent, in order to gain the victory--as in wrestling, the masters of the art have laid down what is fair and what is not fair, so in fighting in armour--we ought to call in skilful persons, who shall judge for us and be our assessors in the work of legislation; they shall say who deserves to be victor in combats of this sort, and what he is not to do or have done to him, and in like manner what rule determines who is defeated; and let these ordinances apply to women until they are married as well as to men. the pancration shall have a counterpart in a combat of the light-armed; they shall contend with bows and with light shields and with javelins and in the throwing of stones by slings and by hand: and laws shall be made about it, and rewards and prizes given to him who best fulfils the ordinances of the law. next in order we shall have to legislate about the horse contests. now we do not need many horses, for they cannot be of much use in a country like crete, and hence we naturally do not take great pains about the rearing of them or about horse races. there is no one who keeps a chariot among us, and any rivalry in such matters would be altogether out of place; there would be no sense nor any shadow of sense in instituting contests which are not after the manner of our country. and therefore we give our prizes for single horses--for colts who have not yet cast their teeth, and for those who are intermediate, and for the full-grown horses themselves; and thus our equestrian games will accord with the nature of the country. let them have conflict and rivalry in these matters in accordance with the law, and let the colonels and generals of horse decide together about all courses and about the armed competitors in them. but we have nothing to say to the unarmed either in gymnastic exercises or in these contests. on the other hand, the cretan bowman or javelin-man who fights in armour on horseback is useful, and therefore we may as well place a competition of this sort among our amusements. women are not to be forced to compete by laws and ordinances; but if from previous training they have acquired the habit and are strong enough and like to take part, let them do so, girls as well as boys, and no blame to them. thus the competition in gymnastic and the mode of learning it have been described; and we have spoken also of the toils of the contest, and of daily exercises under the superintendence of masters. likewise, what relates to music has been, for the most part, completed. but as to rhapsodes and the like, and the contests of choruses which are to perform at feasts, all this shall be arranged when the months and days and years have been appointed for gods and demi-gods, whether every third year, or again every fifth year, or in whatever way or manner the gods may put into men's minds the distribution and order of them. at the same time, we may expect that the musical contests will be celebrated in their turn by the command of the judges and the director of education and the guardians of the law meeting together for this purpose, and themselves becoming legislators of the times and nature and conditions of the choral contests and of dancing in general. what they ought severally to be in language and song, and in the admixture of harmony with rhythm and the dance, has been often declared by the original legislator; and his successors ought to follow him, making the games and sacrifices duly to correspond at fitting times, and appointing public festivals. it is not difficult to determine how these and the like matters may have a regular order; nor, again, will the alteration of them do any great good or harm to the state. there is, however, another matter of great importance and difficulty, concerning which god should legislate, if there were any possibility of obtaining from him an ordinance about it. but seeing that divine aid is not to be had, there appears to be a need of some bold man who specially honours plainness of speech, and will say outright what he thinks best for the city and citizens--ordaining what is good and convenient for the whole state amid the corruptions of human souls, opposing the mightiest lusts, and having no man his helper but himself standing alone and following reason only. cleinias: what is this, stranger, that you are saying? for we do not as yet understand your meaning. athenian: very likely; i will endeavour to explain myself more clearly. when i came to the subject of education, i beheld young men and maidens holding friendly intercourse with one another. and there naturally arose in my mind a sort of apprehension--i could not help thinking how one is to deal with a city in which youths and maidens are well nurtured, and have nothing to do, and are not undergoing the excessive and servile toils which extinguish wantonness, and whose only cares during their whole life are sacrifices and festivals and dances. how, in such a state as this, will they abstain from desires which thrust many a man and woman into perdition; and from which reason, assuming the functions of law, commands them to abstain? the ordinances already made may possibly get the better of most of these desires; the prohibition of excessive wealth is a very considerable gain in the direction of temperance, and the whole education of our youth imposes a law of moderation on them; moreover, the eye of the rulers is required always to watch over the young, and never to lose sight of them; and these provisions do, as far as human means can effect anything, exercise a regulating influence upon the desires in general. but how can we take precautions against the unnatural loves of either sex, from which innumerable evils have come upon individuals and cities? how shall we devise a remedy and way of escape out of so great a danger? truly, cleinias, here is a difficulty. in many ways crete and lacedaemon furnish a great help to those who make peculiar laws; but in the matter of love, as we are alone, i must confess that they are quite against us. for if any one following nature should lay down the law which existed before the days of laius, and denounce these lusts as contrary to nature, adducing the animals as a proof that such unions were monstrous, he might prove his point, but he would be wholly at variance with the custom of your states. further, they are repugnant to a principle which we say that a legislator should always observe; for we are always enquiring which of our enactments tends to virtue and which not. and suppose we grant that these loves are accounted by law to the honourable, or at least not disgraceful, in what degree will they contribute to virtue? will such passions implant in the soul of him who is seduced the habit of courage, or in the soul of the seducer the principle of temperance? who will ever believe this? or rather, who will not blame the effeminacy of him who yields to pleasures and is unable to hold out against them? will not all men censure as womanly him who imitates the woman? and who would ever think of establishing such a practice by law? certainly no one who had in his mind the image of true law. how can we prove that what i am saying is true? he who would rightly consider these matters must see the nature of friendship and desire, and of these so-called loves, for they are of two kinds, and out of the two arises a third kind, having the same name; and this similarity of name causes all the difficulty and obscurity. cleinias: how is that? athenian: dear is the like in virtue to the like, and the equal to the equal; dear also, though unlike, is he who has abundance to him who is in want. and when either of these friendships becomes excessive, we term the excess love. cleinias: very true. athenian: the friendship which arises from contraries is horrible and coarse, and has often no tie of communion; but that which arises from likeness is gentle, and has a tie of communion which lasts through life. as to the mixed sort which is made up of them both, there is, first of all, a difficulty in determining what he who is possessed by this third love desires; moreover, he is drawn different ways, and is in doubt between the two principles; the one exhorting him to enjoy the beauty of youth, and the other forbidding him. for the one is a lover of the body, and hungers after beauty, like ripe fruit, and would fain satisfy himself without any regard to the character of the beloved; the other holds the desire of the body to be a secondary matter, and looking rather than loving and with his soul desiring the soul of the other in a becoming manner, regards the satisfaction of the bodily love as wantonness; he reverences and respects temperance and courage and magnanimity and wisdom, and wishes to live chastely with the chaste object of his affection. now the sort of love which is made up of the other two is that which we have described as the third. seeing then that there are these three sorts of love, ought the law to prohibit and forbid them all to exist among us? is it not rather clear that we should wish to have in the state the love which is of virtue and which desires the beloved youth to be the best possible; and the other two, if possible, we should hinder? what do you say, friend megillus? megillus: i think, stranger, that you are perfectly right in what you have been now saying. athenian: i knew well, my friend, that i should obtain your assent, which i accept, and therefore have no need to analyze your custom any further. cleinias shall be prevailed upon to give me his assent at some other time. enough of this; and now let us proceed to the laws. megillus: very good. athenian: upon reflection i see a way of imposing the law, which, in one respect, is easy, but, in another, is of the utmost difficulty. megillus: what do you mean? athenian: we are all aware that most men, in spite of their lawless natures, are very strictly and precisely restrained from intercourse with the fair, and this is not at all against their will, but entirely with their will. megillus: when do you mean? athenian: when any one has a brother or sister who is fair; and about a son or daughter the same unwritten law holds, and is a most perfect safeguard, so that no open or secret connexion ever takes place between them. nor does the thought of such a thing ever enter at all into the minds of most of them. megillus: very true. athenian: does not a little word extinguish all pleasures of that sort? megillus: what word? athenian: the declaration that they are unholy, hated of god, and most infamous; and is not the reason of this that no one has ever said the opposite, but every one from his earliest childhood has heard men speaking in the same manner about them always and everywhere, whether in comedy or in the graver language of tragedy? when the poet introduces on the stage a thyestes or an oedipus, or a macareus having secret intercourse with his sister, he represents him, when found out, ready to kill himself as the penalty of his sin. megillus: you are very right in saying that tradition, if no breath of opposition ever assails it, has a marvellous power. athenian: am i not also right in saying that the legislator who wants to master any of the passions which master man may easily know how to subdue them? he will consecrate the tradition of their evil character among all, slaves and freemen, women and children, throughout the city: that will be the surest foundation of the law which he can make. megillus: yes; but will he ever succeed in making all mankind use the same language about them? athenian: a good objection; but was i not just now saying that i had a way to make men use natural love and abstain from unnatural, not intentionally destroying the seeds of human increase, or sowing them in stony places, in which they will take no root; and that i would command them to abstain too from any female field of increase in which that which is sown is not likely to grow? now if a law to this effect could only be made perpetual, and gain an authority such as already prevents intercourse of parents and children--such a law, extending to other sensual desires, and conquering them, would be the source of ten thousand blessings. for, in the first place, moderation is the appointment of nature, and deters men from all frenzy and madness of love, and from all adulteries and immoderate use of meats and drinks, and makes them good friends to their own wives. and innumerable other benefits would result if such a law could only be enforced. i can imagine some lusty youth who is standing by, and who, on hearing this enactment, declares in scurrilous terms that we are making foolish and impossible laws, and fills the world with his outcry. and therefore i said that i knew a way of enacting and perpetuating such a law, which was very easy in one respect, but in another most difficult. there is no difficulty in seeing that such a law is possible, and in what way; for, as i was saying, the ordinance once consecrated would master the soul of every man, and terrify him into obedience. but matters have now come to such a pass that even then the desired result seems as if it could not be attained, just as the continuance of an entire state in the practice of common meals is also deemed impossible. and although this latter is partly disproven by the fact of their existence among you, still even in your cities the common meals of women would be regarded as unnatural and impossible. i was thinking of the rebelliousness of the human heart when i said that the permanent establishment of these things is very difficult. megillus: very true. athenian: shall i try and find some sort of persuasive argument which will prove to you that such enactments are possible, and not beyond human nature? cleinias: by all means. athenian: is a man more likely to abstain from the pleasures of love and to do what he is bidden about them, when his body is in a good condition, or when he is in an ill condition, and out of training? cleinias: he will be far more temperate when he is in training. athenian: and have we not heard of iccus of tarentum, who, with a view to the olympic and other contests, in his zeal for his art, and also because he was of a manly and temperate disposition, never had any connexion with a woman or a youth during the whole time of his training? and the same is said of crison and astylus and diopompus and many others; and yet, cleinias, they were far worse educated in their minds than your and my citizens, and in their bodies far more lusty. cleinias: no doubt this fact has been often affirmed positively by the ancients of these athletes. athenian: and had they the courage to abstain from what is ordinarily deemed a pleasure for the sake of a victory in wrestling, running, and the like; and shall our young men be incapable of a similar endurance for the sake of a much nobler victory, which is the noblest of all, as from their youth upwards we will tell them, charming them, as we hope, into the belief of this by tales and sayings and songs? cleinias: of what victory are you speaking? athenian: of the victory over pleasure, which if they win, they will live happily; or if they are conquered, the reverse of happily. and, further, may we not suppose that the fear of impiety will enable them to master that which other inferior people have mastered? cleinias: i dare say. athenian: and since we have reached this point in our legislation, and have fallen into a difficulty by reason of the vices of mankind, i affirm that our ordinance should simply run in the following terms: our citizens ought not to fall below the nature of birds and beasts in general, who are born in great multitudes, and yet remain until the age for procreation virgin and unmarried, but when they have reached the proper time of life are coupled, male and female, and lovingly pair together, and live the rest of their lives in holiness and innocence, abiding firmly in their original compact: surely, we will say to them, you should be better than the animals. but if they are corrupted by the other hellenes and the common practice of barbarians, and they see with their eyes and hear with their ears of the so-called free love everywhere prevailing among them, and they themselves are not able to get the better of the temptation, the guardians of the law, exercising the functions of lawgivers, shall devise a second law against them. cleinias: and what law would you advise them to pass if this one failed? athenian: clearly, cleinias, the one which would naturally follow. cleinias: what is that? athenian: our citizens should not allow pleasures to strengthen with indulgence, but should by toil divert the aliment and exuberance of them into other parts of the body; and this will happen if no immodesty be allowed in the practice of love. then they will be ashamed of frequent intercourse, and they will find pleasure, if seldom enjoyed, to be a less imperious mistress. they should not be found out doing anything of the sort. concealment shall be honourable, and sanctioned by custom and made law by unwritten prescription; on the other hand, to be detected shall be esteemed dishonourable, but not, to abstain wholly. in this way there will be a second legal standard of honourable and dishonourable, involving a second notion of right. three principles will comprehend all those corrupt natures whom we call inferior to themselves, and who form but one class, and will compel them not to transgress. cleinias: what are they? athenian: the principle of piety, the love of honour, and the desire of beauty, not in the body but in the soul. these are, perhaps, romantic aspirations; but they are the noblest of aspirations, if they could only be realised in all states, and, god willing, in the matter of love we may be able to enforce one of two things--either that no one shall venture to touch any person of the freeborn or noble class except his wedded wife, or sow the unconsecrated and bastard seed among harlots, or in barren and unnatural lusts; or at least we may abolish altogether the connection of men with men; and as to women, if any man has to do with any but those who come into his house duly married by sacred rites, whether they be bought or acquired in any other way, and he offends publicly in the face of all mankind, we shall be right in enacting that he be deprived of civic honours and privileges, and be deemed to be, as he truly is, a stranger. let this law, then, whether it is one, or ought rather to be called two, be laid down respecting love in general, and the intercourse of the sexes which arises out of the desires, whether rightly or wrongly indulged. megillus: i, for my part, stranger, would gladly receive this law. cleinias shall speak for himself, and tell you what is his opinion. cleinias: i will, megillus, when an opportunity offers; at present, i think that we had better allow the stranger to proceed with his laws. megillus: very good. athenian: we had got about as far as the establishment of the common tables, which in most places would be difficult, but in crete no one would think of introducing any other custom. there might arise a question about the manner of them--whether they shall be such as they are here in crete, or such as they are in lacedaemon--or is there a third kind which may be better than either of them? the answer to this question might be easily discovered, but the discovery would do no great good, for at present they are very well ordered. leaving the common tables, we may therefore proceed to the means of providing food. now, in cities the means of life are gained in many ways and from divers sources, and in general from two sources, whereas our city has only one. for most of the hellenes obtain their food from sea and land, but our citizens from land only. and this makes the task of the legislator less difficult--half as many laws will be enough, and much less than half; and they will be of a kind better suited to free men. for he has nothing to do with laws about shipowners and merchants and retailers and inn-keepers and tax collectors and mines and moneylending and compound interest and innumerable other things--bidding good-bye to these, he gives laws to husbandmen and shepherds and bee-keepers, and to the guardians and superintendents of their implements; and he has already legislated for greater matters, as for example, respecting marriage and the procreation and nurture of children, and for education, and the establishment of offices--and now he must direct his laws to those who provide food and labour in preparing it. let us first of all, then, have a class of laws which shall be called the laws of husbandmen. and let the first of them be the law of zeus, the god of boundaries. let no one shift the boundary line either of a fellow-citizen who is a neighbour, or, if he dwells at the extremity of the land, of any stranger who is conterminous with him, considering that this is truly 'to move the immovable,' and every one should be more willing to move the largest rock which is not a landmark, than the least stone which is the sworn mark of friendship and hatred between neighbours; for zeus, the god of kindred, is the witness of the citizen, and zeus, the god of strangers, of the stranger, and when aroused, terrible are the wars which they stir up. he who obeys the law will never know the fatal consequences of disobedience, but he who despises the law shall be liable to a double penalty, the first coming from the gods, and the second from the law. for let no one wilfully remove the boundaries of his neighbour's land, and if any one does, let him who will inform the landowners, and let them bring him into court, and if he be convicted of re-dividing the land by stealth or by force, let the court determine what he ought to suffer or pay. in the next place, many small injuries done by neighbours to one another, through their multiplication, may cause a weight of enmity, and make neighbourhood a very disagreeable and bitter thing. wherefore a man ought to be very careful of committing any offence against his neighbour, and especially of encroaching on his neighbour's land; for any man may easily do harm, but not every man can do good to another. he who encroaches on his neighbour's land, and transgresses his boundaries, shall make good the damage, and, to cure him of his impudence and also of his meanness, he shall pay a double penalty to the injured party. of these and the like matters the wardens of the country shall take cognizance, and be the judges of them and assessors of the damage; in the more important cases, as has been already said, the whole number of them belonging to any one of the twelve divisions shall decide, and in the lesser cases the commanders: or, again, if any one pastures his cattle on his neighbour's land, they shall see the injury, and adjudge the penalty. and if any one, by decoying the bees, gets possession of another's swarms, and draws them to himself by making noises, he shall pay the damage; or if any one sets fire to his own wood and takes no care of his neighbour's property, he shall be fined at the discretion of the magistrates. and if in planting he does not leave a fair distance between his own and his neighbour's land, he shall be punished, in accordance with the enactments of many lawgivers, which we may use, not deeming it necessary that the great legislator of our state should determine all the trifles which might be decided by any body; for example, husbandmen have had of old excellent laws about waters, and there is no reason why we should propose to divert their course: he who likes may draw water from the fountain-head of the common stream on to his own land, if he do not cut off the spring which clearly belongs to some other owner; and he may take the water in any direction which he pleases, except through a house or temple or sepulchre, but he must be careful to do no harm beyond the channel. and if there be in any place a natural dryness of the earth, which keeps in the rain from heaven, and causes a deficiency in the supply of water, let him dig down on his own land as far as the clay, and if at this depth he finds no water, let him obtain water from his neighbours, as much as is required for his servants' drinking, and if his neighbours, too, are limited in their supply, let him have a fixed measure, which shall be determined by the wardens of the country. this he shall receive each day, and on these terms have a share of his neighbours' water. if there be heavy rain, and one of those on the lower ground injures some tiller of the upper ground, or some one who has a common wall, by refusing to give them an outlet for water; or, again, if some one living on the higher ground recklessly lets off the water on his lower neighbour, and they cannot come to terms with one another, let him who will call in a warden of the city, if he be in the city, or if he be in the country, a warden of the country, and let him obtain a decision determining what each of them is to do. and he who will not abide by the decision shall suffer for his malignant and morose temper, and pay a fine to the injured party, equivalent to double the value of the injury, because he was unwilling to submit to the magistrates. now the participation of fruits shall be ordered on this wise. the goddess of autumn has two gracious gifts: one the joy of dionysus which is not treasured up; the other, which nature intends to be stored. let this be the law, then, concerning the fruits of autumn: he who tastes the common or storing fruits of autumn, whether grapes or figs, before the season of vintage which coincides with arcturus, either on his own land or on that of others--let him pay fifty drachmae, which shall be sacred to dionysus, if he pluck them from his own land; and if from his neighbour's land, a mina, and if from any others', two-thirds of a mina. and he who would gather the 'choice' grapes or the 'choice' figs, as they are now termed, if he take them off his own land, let him pluck them how and when he likes; but if he take them from the ground of others without their leave, let him in that case be always punished in accordance with the law which ordains that he should not move what he has not laid down. and if a slave touches any fruit of this sort, without the consent of the owner of the land, he shall be beaten with as many blows as there are grapes on the bunch, or figs on the fig-tree. let a metic purchase the 'choice' autumnal fruit, and then, if he pleases, he may gather it; but if a stranger is passing along the road, and desires to eat, let him take of the 'choice' grape for himself and a single follower without payment, as a tribute of hospitality. the law however forbids strangers from sharing in the sort which is not used for eating; and if any one, whether he be master or slave, takes of them in ignorance, let the slave be beaten, and the freeman dismissed with admonitions, and instructed to take of the other autumnal fruits which are unfit for making raisins and wine, or for laying by as dried figs. as to pears, and apples, and pomegranates, and similar fruits, there shall be no disgrace in taking them secretly; but he who is caught, if he be of less than thirty years of age, shall be struck and beaten off, but not wounded; and no freeman shall have any right of satisfaction for such blows. of these fruits the stranger may partake, just as he may of the fruits of autumn. and if an elder, who is more than thirty years of age, eat of them on the spot, let him, like the stranger, be allowed to partake of all such fruits, but he must carry away nothing. if, however, he will not obey the law, let him run the risk of failing in the competition of virtue, in case any one takes notice of his actions before the judges at the time. water is the greatest element of nutrition in gardens, but is easily polluted. you cannot poison the soil, or the sun, or the air, which are the other elements of nutrition in plants, or divert them, or steal them; but all these things may very likely happen in regard to water, which must therefore be protected by law. and let this be the law: if any one intentionally pollutes the water of another, whether the water of a spring, or collected in reservoirs, either by poisonous substances, or by digging, or by theft, let the injured party bring the cause before the wardens of the city, and claim in writing the value of the loss; if the accused be found guilty of injuring the water by deleterious substances, let him not only pay damages, but purify the stream or the cistern which contains the water, in such manner as the laws of the interpreters order the purification to be made by the offender in each case. with respect to the gathering in of the fruits of the soil, let a man, if he pleases, carry his own fruits through any place in which he either does no harm to any one, or himself gains three times as much as his neighbour loses. now of these things the magistrates should be cognizant, as of all other things in which a man intentionally does injury to another or to the property of another, by fraud or force, in the use which he makes of his own property. all these matters a man should lay before the magistrates, and receive damages, supposing the injury to be not more than three minae; or if he have a charge against another which involves a larger amount, let him bring his suit into the public courts and have the evil-doer punished. but if any of the magistrates appear to adjudge the penalties which he imposes in an unjust spirit, let him be liable to pay double to the injured party. any one may bring the offences of magistrates, in any particular case, before the public courts. there are innumerable little matters relating to the modes of punishment, and applications for suits, and summonses and the witnesses to summonses--for example, whether two witnesses should be required for a summons, or how many--and all such details, which cannot be omitted in legislation, but are beneath the wisdom of an aged legislator. these lesser matters, as they indeed are in comparison with the greater ones, let a younger generation regulate by law, after the patterns which have preceded, and according to their own experience of the usefulness and necessity of such laws; and when they are duly regulated let there be no alteration, but let the citizens live in the observance of them. now of artisans, let the regulations be as follows: in the first place, let no citizen or servant of a citizen be occupied in handicraft arts; for he who is to secure and preserve the public order of the state, has an art which requires much study and many kinds of knowledge, and does not admit of being made a secondary occupation; and hardly any human being is capable of pursuing two professions or two arts rightly, or of practising one art himself, and superintending some one else who is practising another. let this, then, be our first principle in the state: no one who is a smith shall also be a carpenter, and if he be a carpenter, he shall not superintend the smith's art rather than his own, under the pretext that in superintending many servants who are working for him, he is likely to superintend them better, because more revenue will accrue to him from them than from his own art; but let every man in the state have one art, and get his living by that. let the wardens of the city labour to maintain this law, and if any citizen incline to any other art rather than the study of virtue, let them punish him with disgrace and infamy, until they bring him back into his own right course; and if any stranger profess two arts, let them chastise him with bonds and money penalties, and expulsion from the state, until they compel him to be one only and not many. but as touching payments for hire, and contracts of work, or in case any one does wrong to any of the citizens, or they do wrong to any other, up to fifty drachmae, let the wardens of the city decide the case; but if a greater amount be involved, then let the public courts decide according to law. let no one pay any duty either on the importation or exportation of goods; and as to frankincense and similar perfumes, used in the service of the gods, which come from abroad, and purple and other dyes which are not produced in the country, or the materials of any art which have to be imported, and which are not necessary--no one should import them; nor, again, should any one export anything which is wanted in the country. of all these things let there be inspectors and superintendents, taken from the guardians of the law; and they shall be the twelve next in order to the five seniors. concerning arms, and all implements which are required for military purposes, if there be need of introducing any art, or plant, or metal, or chains of any kind, or animals for use in war, let the commanders of the horse and the generals have authority over their importation and exportation; the city shall send them out and also receive them, and the guardians of the law shall make fit and proper laws about them. but let there be no retail trade for the sake of moneymaking, either in these or any other articles, in the city or country at all. with respect to food and the distribution of the produce of the country, the right and proper way seems to be nearly that which is the custom of crete; for all should be required to distribute the fruits of the soil into twelve parts, and in this way consume them. let the twelfth portion of each as for instance of wheat and barley, to which the rest of the fruits of the earth shall be added, as well as the animals which are for sale in each of the twelve divisions, be divided in due proportion into three parts; one part for freemen, another for their servants, and a third for craftsmen and in general for strangers, whether sojourners who may be dwelling in the city, and like other men must live, or those who come on some business which they have with the state, or with some individual. let only this third part of all necessaries be required to be sold; out of the other two-thirds no one shall be compelled to sell. and how will they be best distributed? in the first place, we see clearly that the distribution will be of equals in one point of view, and in another point of view of unequals. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: i mean that the earth of necessity produces and nourishes the various articles of food, sometimes better and sometimes worse. cleinias: of course. athenian: such being the case, let no one of the three portions be greater than either of the other two--neither that which is assigned to masters or to slaves, nor again that of the stranger; but let the distribution to all be equal and alike, and let every citizen take his two portions and distribute them among slaves and freemen, he having power to determine the quantity and quality. and what remains he shall distribute by measure and number among the animals who have to be sustained from the earth, taking the whole number of them. in the second place, our citizens should have separate houses duly ordered; and this will be the order proper for men like them. there shall be twelve hamlets, one in the middle of each twelfth portion, and in each hamlet they shall first set apart a market-place, and the temples of the gods, and of their attendant demi-gods; and if there be any local deities of the magnetes, or holy seats of other ancient deities, whose memory has been preserved, to these let them pay their ancient honours. but hestia, and zeus, and athene will have temples everywhere together with the god who presides in each of the twelve districts. and the first erection of houses shall be around these temples, where the ground is highest, in order to provide the safest and most defensible place of retreat for the guards. all the rest of the country they shall settle in the following manner: they shall make thirteen divisions of the craftsmen; one of them they shall establish in the city, and this, again, they shall subdivide into twelve lesser divisions, among the twelve districts of the city, and the remainder shall be distributed in the country round about; and in each village they shall settle various classes of craftsmen, with a view to the convenience of the husbandmen. and the chief officers of the wardens of the country shall superintend all these matters, and see how many of them, and which class of them, each place requires; and fix them where they are likely to be least troublesome, and most useful to the husbandman. and the wardens of the city shall see to similar matters in the city. now the wardens of the agora ought to see to the details of the agora. their first care, after the temples which are in the agora have been seen to, should be to prevent any one from doing any wrong in dealings between man and man; in the second place, as being inspectors of temperance and violence, they should chastise him who requires chastisement. touching articles of sale, they should first see whether the articles which the citizens are under regulations to sell to strangers are sold to them, as the law ordains. and let the law be as follows: on the first day of the month, the persons in charge, whoever they are, whether strangers or slaves, who have the charge on behalf of the citizens, shall produce to the strangers the portion which falls to them, in the first place, a twelfth portion of the corn--the stranger shall purchase corn for the whole month, and other cereals, on the first market day; and on the tenth day of the month the one party shall sell, and the other buy, liquids sufficient to last during the whole month; and on the twenty-third day there shall be a sale of animals by those who are willing to sell to the people who want to buy, and of implements and other things which husbandmen sell, (such as skins and all kinds of clothing, either woven or made of felt and other goods of the same sort) and which strangers are compelled to buy and purchase of others. as to the retail trade in these things, whether of barley or wheat set apart for meal and flour, or any other kind of food, no one shall sell them to citizens or their slaves, nor shall any one buy of a citizen; but let the stranger sell them in the market of strangers, to artisans and their slaves, making an exchange of wine and food, which is commonly called retail trade. and butchers shall offer for sale parts of dismembered animals to the strangers, and artisans, and their servants. let any stranger who likes buy fuel from day to day wholesale, from those who have the care of it in the country, and let him sell to the strangers as much as he pleases and when he pleases. as to other goods and implements which are likely to be wanted, they shall sell them in the common market, at any place which the guardians of the law and the wardens of the market and city, choosing according to their judgment, shall determine; at such places they shall exchange money for goods, and goods for money, neither party giving credit to the other; and he who gives credit must be satisfied, whether he obtain his money or not, for in such exchanges he will not be protected by law. but whenever property has been bought or sold, greater in quantity or value than is allowed by the law, which has determined within what limits a man may increase and diminish his possessions, let the excess be registered in the books of the guardians of the law; or in case of diminution, let there be an erasure made. and let the same rule be observed about the registration of the property of the metics. any one who likes may come and be a metic on certain conditions; a foreigner, if he likes, and is able to settle, may dwell in the land, but he must practise an art, and not abide more than twenty years from the time at which he has registered himself; and he shall pay no sojourner's tax, however small, except good conduct, nor any other tax for buying and selling. but when the twenty years have expired, he shall take his property with him and depart. and if in the course of these years he should chance to distinguish himself by any considerable benefit which he confers on the state, and he thinks that he can persuade the council and assembly, either to grant him delay in leaving the country, or to allow him to remain for the whole of his life, let him go and persuade the city, and whatever they assent to at his instance shall take effect. for the children of the metics, being artisans, and of fifteen years of age, let the time of their sojourn commence after their fifteenth year; and let them remain for twenty years, and then go where they like; but any of them who wishes to remain, may do so, if he can persuade the council and assembly. and if he depart, let him erase all the entries which have been made by him in the register kept by the magistrates. book ix. next to all the matters which have preceded in the natural order of legislation will come suits of law. of suits those which relate to agriculture have been already described, but the more important have not been described. having mentioned them severally under their usual names, we will proceed to say what punishments are to be inflicted for each offence, and who are to be the judges of them. cleinias: very good. athenian: there is a sense of disgrace in legislating, as we are about to do, for all the details of crime in a state which, as we say, is to be well regulated and will be perfectly adapted to the practice of virtue. to assume that in such a state there will arise some one who will be guilty of crimes as heinous as any which are ever perpetrated in other states, and that we must legislate for him by anticipation, and threaten and make laws against him if he should arise, in order to deter him, and punish his acts, under the idea that he will arise--this, as i was saying, is in a manner disgraceful. yet seeing that we are not like the ancient legislators, who gave laws to heroes and sons of gods, being, according to the popular belief, themselves the offspring of the gods, and legislating for others, who were also the children of divine parents, but that we are only men who are legislating for the sons of men, there is no uncharitableness in apprehending that some one of our citizens may be like a seed which has touched the ox's horn, having a heart so hard that it cannot be softened any more than those seeds can be softened by fire. among our citizens there may be those who cannot be subdued by all the strength of the laws; and for their sake, though an ungracious task, i will proclaim my first law about the robbing of temples, in case any one should dare to commit such a crime. i do not expect or imagine that any well-brought-up citizen will ever take the infection, but their servants, and strangers, and strangers' servants may be guilty of many impieties. and with a view to them especially, and yet not without a provident eye to the weakness of human nature generally, i will proclaim the law about robbers of temples and similar incurable, or almost incurable, criminals. having already agreed that such enactments ought always to have a short prelude, we may speak to the criminal, whom some tormenting desire by night and by day tempts to go and rob a temple, the fewest possible words of admonition and exhortation: o sir, we will say to him, the impulse which moves you to rob temples is not an ordinary human malady, nor yet a visitation of heaven, but a madness which is begotten in a man from ancient and unexpiated crimes of his race, an ever-recurring curse--against this you must guard with all your might, and how you are to guard we will explain to you. when any such thought comes into your mind, go and perform expiations, go as a suppliant to the temples of the gods who avert evils, go to the society of those who are called good men among you; hear them tell and yourself try to repeat after them, that every man should honour the noble and the just. fly from the company of the wicked--fly and turn not back; and if your disorder is lightened by these remedies, well and good, but if not, then acknowledge death to be nobler than life, and depart hence. such are the preludes which we sing to all who have thoughts of unholy and treasonable actions, and to him who hearkens to them the law has nothing to say. but to him who is disobedient when the prelude is over, cry with a loud voice--he who is taken in the act of robbing temples, if he be a slave or stranger, shall have his evil deed engraven on his face and hands, and shall be beaten with as many stripes as may seem good to the judges, and be cast naked beyond the borders of the land. and if he suffers this punishment he will probably return to his right mind and be improved; for no penalty which the law inflicts is designed for evil, but always makes him who suffers either better or not so much worse as he would have been. but if any citizen be found guilty of any great or unmentionable wrong, either in relation to the gods, or his parents, or the state, let the judge deem him to be incurable, remembering that after receiving such an excellent education and training from youth upward, he has not abstained from the greatest of crimes. his punishment shall be death, which to him will be the least of evils; and his example will benefit others, if he perish ingloriously, and be cast beyond the borders of the land. but let his children and family, if they avoid the ways of their father, have glory, and let honourable mention be made of them, as having nobly and manfully escaped out of evil into good. none of them should have their goods confiscated to the state, for the lots of the citizens ought always to continue the same and equal. touching the exaction of penalties, when a man appears to have done anything which deserves a fine, he shall pay the fine, if he have anything in excess of the lot which is assigned to him; but more than that he shall not pay. and to secure exactness, let the guardians of the law refer to the registers, and inform the judges of the precise truth, in order that none of the lots may go uncultivated for want of money. but if any one seems to deserve a greater penalty, let him undergo a long and public imprisonment and be dishonoured, unless some of his friends are willing to be surety for him, and liberate him by assisting him to pay the fine. no criminal shall go unpunished, not even for a single offence, nor if he have fled the country; but let the penalty be according to his deserts--death, or bonds, or blows, or degrading places of sitting or standing, or removal to some temple on the borders of the land; or let him pay fines, as we said before. in cases of death, let the judges be the guardians of the law, and a court selected by merit from the last year's magistrates. but how the causes are to be brought into court, how the summonses are to be served, and the like, these things may be left to the younger generation of legislators to determine; the manner of voting we must determine ourselves. let the vote be given openly; but before they come to the vote let the judges sit in order of seniority over against plaintiff and defendant, and let all the citizens who can spare time hear and take a serious interest in listening to such causes. first of all the plaintiff shall make one speech, and then the defendant shall make another; and after the speeches have been made the eldest judge shall begin to examine the parties, and proceed to make an adequate enquiry into what has been said; and after the oldest has spoken, the rest shall proceed in order to examine either party as to what he finds defective in the evidence, whether of statement or omission; and he who has nothing to ask shall hand over the examination to another. and on so much of what has been said as is to the purpose all the judges shall set their seals, and place the writings on the altar of hestia. on the next day they shall meet again, and in like manner put their questions and go through the cause, and again set their seals upon the evidence; and when they have three times done this, and have had witnesses and evidence enough, they shall each of them give a holy vote, after promising by hestia that they will decide justly and truly to the utmost of their power; and so they shall put an end to the suit. next, after what relates to the gods, follows what relates to the dissolution of the state: whoever by permitting a man to power enslaves the laws, and subjects the city to factions, using violence and stirring up sedition contrary to law, him we will deem the greatest enemy of the whole state. but he who takes no part in such proceedings, and, being one of the chief magistrates of the state, has no knowledge of treason, or, having knowledge of it, by reason of cowardice does not interfere on behalf of his country, such an one we must consider nearly as bad. every man who is worth anything will inform the magistrates, and bring the conspirator to trial for making a violent and illegal attempt to change the government. the judges of such cases shall be the same as of the robbers of temples; and let the whole proceeding be carried on in the same way, and the vote of the majority condemn to death. but let there be a general rule, that the disgrace and punishment of the father is not to be visited on the children, except in the case of some one whose father, grandfather, and great-grandfather have successively undergone the penalty of death. such persons the city shall send away with all their possessions to the city and country of their ancestors, retaining only and wholly their appointed lot. and out of the citizens who have more than one son of not less than ten years of age, they shall select ten whom their father or grandfather by the mother's or father's side shall appoint, and let them send to delphi the names of those who are selected, and him whom the god chooses they shall establish as heir of the house which has failed; and may he have better fortune than his predecessors! cleinias: very good. athenian: once more let there be a third general law respecting the judges who are to give judgment, and the manner of conducting suits against those who are tried on an accusation of treason; and as concerning the remaining or departure of their descendants--there shall be one law for all three, for the traitor, and the robber of temples, and the subverter by violence of the laws of the state. for a thief, whether he steal much or little, let there be one law, and one punishment for all alike: in the first place, let him pay double the amount of the theft if he be convicted, and if he have so much over and above the allotment--if he have not, he shall be bound until he pay the penalty, or persuade him who has obtained the sentence against him to forgive him. but if a person be convicted of a theft against the state, then if he can persuade the city, or if he will pay back twice the amount of the theft, he shall be set free from his bonds. cleinias: what makes you say, stranger, that a theft is all one, whether the thief may have taken much or little, and either from sacred or secular places--and these are not the only differences in thefts--seeing, then, that they are of many kinds, ought not the legislator to adapt himself to them, and impose upon them entirely different penalties? athenian: excellent. i was running on too fast, cleinias, and you impinged upon me, and brought me to my senses, reminding me of what, indeed, had occurred to my mind already, that legislation was never yet rightly worked out, as i may say in passing. do you remember the image in which i likened the men for whom laws are now made to slaves who are doctored by slaves? for of this you may be very sure, that if one of those empirical physicians, who practise medicine without science, were to come upon the gentleman physician talking to his gentleman patient, and using the language almost of philosophy, beginning at the beginning of the disease and discoursing about the whole nature of the body, he would burst into a hearty laugh--he would say what most of those who are called doctors always have at their tongue's end: foolish fellow, he would say, you are not healing the sick man, but you are educating him; and he does not want to be made a doctor, but to get well. cleinias: and would he not be right? athenian: perhaps he would; and he might remark upon us, that he who discourses about laws, as we are now doing, is giving the citizens education and not laws; that would be rather a telling observation. cleinias: very true. athenian: but we are fortunate. cleinias: in what way? athenian: inasmuch as we are not compelled to give laws, but we may take into consideration every form of government, and ascertain what is best and what is most needful, and how they may both be carried into execution; and we may also, if we please, at this very moment choose what is best, or, if we prefer, what is most necessary--which shall we do? cleinias: there is something ridiculous, stranger, in our proposing such an alternative, as if we were legislators, simply bound under some great necessity which cannot be deferred to the morrow. but we, as i may by the grace of heaven affirm, like gatherers of stones or beginners of some composite work, may gather a heap of materials, and out of this, at our leisure, select what is suitable for our projected construction. let us then suppose ourselves to be at leisure, not of necessity building, but rather like men who are partly providing materials, and partly putting them together. and we may truly say that some of our laws, like stones, are already fixed in their places, and others lie at hand. athenian: certainly, in that case, cleinias, our view of law will be more in accordance with nature. for there is another matter affecting legislators, which i must earnestly entreat you to consider. cleinias: what is it? athenian: there are many writings to be found in cities, and among them there are discourses composed by legislators as well as by other persons. cleinias: to be sure. athenian: shall we give heed rather to the writings of those others--poets and the like, who either in metre or out of metre have recorded their advice about the conduct of life, and not to the writings of legislators? or shall we give heed to them above all? cleinias: yes; to them far above all others. athenian: and ought the legislator alone among writers to withhold his opinion about the beautiful, the good, and the just, and not to teach what they are, and how they are to be pursued by those who intend to be happy? cleinias: certainly not. athenian: and is it disgraceful for homer and tyrtaeus and other poets to lay down evil precepts in their writings respecting life and the pursuits of men, but not so disgraceful for lycurgus and solon and others who were legislators as well as writers? is it not true that of all the writings to be found in cities, those which relate to laws, when you unfold and read them, ought to be by far the noblest and the best? and should not other writings either agree with them, or if they disagree, be deemed ridiculous? we should consider whether the laws of states ought not to have the character of loving and wise parents, rather than of tyrants and masters, who command and threaten, and, after writing their decrees on walls, go their ways; and whether, in discoursing of laws, we should not take the gentler view of them which may or may not be attainable--at any rate, we will show our readiness to entertain such a view, and be prepared to undergo whatever may be the result. and may the result be good, and if god be gracious, it will be good! cleinias: excellent; let us do as you say. athenian: then we will now consider accurately, as we proposed, what relates to robbers of temples, and all kinds of thefts, and offences in general; and we must not be annoyed if, in the course of legislation, we have enacted some things, and have not made up our minds about some others; for as yet we are not legislators, but we may soon be. let us, if you please, consider these matters. cleinias: by all means. athenian: concerning all things honourable and just, let us then endeavour to ascertain how far we are consistent with ourselves, and how far we are inconsistent, and how far the many, from whom at any rate we should profess a desire to differ, agree and disagree among themselves. cleinias: what are the inconsistencies which you observe in us? athenian: i will endeavour to explain. if i am not mistaken, we are all agreed that justice, and just men and things and actions, are all fair, and, if a person were to maintain that just men, even when they are deformed in body, are still perfectly beautiful in respect of the excellent justice of their minds, no one would say that there was any inconsistency in this. cleinias: they would be quite right. athenian: perhaps; but let us consider further, that if all things which are just are fair and honourable, in the term 'all' we must include just sufferings which are the correlatives of just actions. cleinias: and what is the inference? athenian: the inference is, that a just action in partaking of the just partakes also in the same degree of the fair and honourable. cleinias: certainly. athenian: and must not a suffering which partakes of the just principle be admitted to be in the same degree fair and honourable, if the argument is consistently carried out? cleinias: true. athenian: but then if we admit suffering to be just and yet dishonourable, and the term 'dishonourable' is applied to justice, will not the just and the honourable disagree? cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: a thing not difficult to understand; the laws which have been already enacted would seem to announce principles directly opposed to what we are saying. cleinias: to what? athenian: we had enacted, if i am not mistaken, that the robber of temples, and he who was the enemy of law and order, might justly be put to death, and we were proceeding to make divers other enactments of a similar nature. but we stopped short, because we saw that these sufferings are infinite in number and degree, and that they are, at once, the most just and also the most dishonourable of all sufferings. and if this be true, are not the just and the honourable at one time all the same, and at another time in the most diametrical opposition? cleinias: such appears to be the case. athenian: in this discordant and inconsistent fashion does the language of the many rend asunder the honourable and just. cleinias: very true, stranger. athenian: then now, cleinias, let us see how far we ourselves are consistent about these matters. cleinias: consistent in what? athenian: i think that i have clearly stated in the former part of the discussion, but if i did not, let me now state-- cleinias: what? athenian: that all bad men are always involuntarily bad; and from this i must proceed to draw a further inference. cleinias: what is it? athenian: that the unjust man may be bad, but that he is bad against his will. now that an action which is voluntary should be done involuntarily is a contradiction; wherefore he who maintains that injustice is involuntary will deem that the unjust does injustice involuntarily. i too admit that all men do injustice involuntarily, and if any contentious or disputatious person says that men are unjust against their will, and yet that many do injustice willingly, i do not agree with him. but, then, how can i avoid being inconsistent with myself, if you, cleinias, and you, megillus, say to me--well, stranger, if all this be as you say, how about legislating for the city of the magnetes--shall we legislate or not--what do you advise? certainly we will, i should reply. then will you determine for them what are voluntary and what are involuntary crimes, and shall we make the punishments greater of voluntary errors and crimes and less for the involuntary? or shall we make the punishment of all to be alike, under the idea that there is no such thing as voluntary crime? cleinias: very good, stranger; and what shall we say in answer to these objections? athenian: that is a very fair question. in the first place, let us-- cleinias: do what? athenian: let us remember what has been well said by us already, that our ideas of justice are in the highest degree confused and contradictory. bearing this in mind, let us proceed to ask ourselves once more whether we have discovered a way out of the difficulty. have we ever determined in what respect these two classes of actions differ from one another? for in all states and by all legislators whatsoever, two kinds of actions have been distinguished--the one, voluntary, the other, involuntary; and they have legislated about them accordingly. but shall this new word of ours, like an oracle of god, be only spoken, and get away without giving any explanation or verification of itself? how can a word not understood be the basis of legislation? impossible. before proceeding to legislate, then, we must prove that they are two, and what is the difference between them, that when we impose the penalty upon either, every one may understand our proposal, and be able in some way to judge whether the penalty is fitly or unfitly inflicted. cleinias: i agree with you, stranger; for one of two things is certain: either we must not say that all unjust acts are involuntary, or we must show the meaning and truth of this statement. athenian: of these two alternatives, the one is quite intolerable--not to speak what i believe to be the truth would be to me unlawful and unholy. but if acts of injustice cannot be divided into voluntary and involuntary, i must endeavour to find some other distinction between them. cleinias: very true, stranger; there cannot be two opinions among us upon that point. athenian: reflect, then; there are hurts of various kinds done by the citizens to one another in the intercourse of life, affording plentiful examples both of the voluntary and involuntary. cleinias: certainly. athenian: i would not have any one suppose that all these hurts are injuries, and that these injuries are of two kinds--one, voluntary, and the other, involuntary; for the involuntary hurts of all men are quite as many and as great as the voluntary. and please to consider whether i am right or quite wrong in what i am going to say; for i deny, cleinias and megillus, that he who harms another involuntarily does him an injury involuntarily, nor should i legislate about such an act under the idea that i am legislating for an involuntary injury. but i should rather say that such a hurt, whether great or small, is not an injury at all; and, on the other hand, if i am right, when a benefit is wrongly conferred, the author of the benefit may often be said to injure. for i maintain, o my friends, that the mere giving or taking away of anything is not to be described either as just or unjust; but the legislator has to consider whether mankind do good or harm to one another out of a just principle and intention. on the distinction between injustice and hurt he must fix his eye; and when there is hurt, he must, as far as he can, make the hurt good by law, and save that which is ruined, and raise up that which is fallen, and make that which is dead or wounded whole. and when compensation has been given for injustice, the law must always seek to win over the doers and sufferers of the several hurts from feelings of enmity to those of friendship. cleinias: very good. athenian: then as to unjust hurts (and gains also, supposing the injustice to bring gain), of these we may heal as many as are capable of being healed, regarding them as diseases of the soul; and the cure of injustice will take the following direction. cleinias: what direction? athenian: when any one commits any injustice, small or great, the law will admonish and compel him either never at all to do the like again, or never voluntarily, or at any rate in a far less degree; and he must in addition pay for the hurt. whether the end is to be attained by word or action, with pleasure or pain, by giving or taking away privileges, by means of fines or gifts, or in whatsoever way the law shall proceed to make a man hate injustice, and love or not hate the nature of the just--this is quite the noblest work of law. but if the legislator sees any one who is incurable, for him he will appoint a law and a penalty. he knows quite well that to such men themselves there is no profit in the continuance of their lives, and that they would do a double good to the rest of mankind if they would take their departure, inasmuch as they would be an example to other men not to offend, and they would relieve the city of bad citizens. in such cases, and in such cases only, the legislator ought to inflict death as the punishment of offences. cleinias: what you have said appears to me to be very reasonable, but will you favour me by stating a little more clearly the difference between hurt and injustice, and the various complications of the voluntary and involuntary which enter into them? athenian: i will endeavour to do as you wish: concerning the soul, thus much would be generally said and allowed, that one element in her nature is passion, which may be described either as a state or a part of her, and is hard to be striven against and contended with, and by irrational force overturns many things. cleinias: very true. athenian: and pleasure is not the same with passion, but has an opposite power, working her will by persuasion and by the force of deceit in all things. cleinias: quite true. athenian: a man may truly say that ignorance is a third cause of crimes. ignorance, however, may be conveniently divided by the legislator into two sorts: there is simple ignorance, which is the source of lighter offences, and double ignorance, which is accompanied by a conceit of wisdom; and he who is under the influence of the latter fancies that he knows all about matters of which he knows nothing. this second kind of ignorance, when possessed of power and strength, will be held by the legislator to be the source of great and monstrous crimes, but when attended with weakness, will only result in the errors of children and old men; and these he will treat as errors, and will make laws accordingly for those who commit them, which will be the mildest and most merciful of all laws. cleinias: you are perfectly right. athenian: we all of us remark of one man that he is superior to pleasure and passion, and of another that he is inferior to them; and this is true. cleinias: certainly. athenian: but no one was ever yet heard to say that one of us is superior and another inferior to ignorance. cleinias: very true. athenian: we are speaking of motives which incite men to the fulfilment of their will; although an individual may be often drawn by them in opposite directions at the same time. cleinias: yes, often. athenian: and now i can define to you clearly, and without ambiguity, what i mean by the just and unjust, according to my notion of them: when anger and fear, and pleasure and pain, and jealousies and desires, tyrannize over the soul, whether they do any harm or not--i call all this injustice. but when the opinion of the best, in whatever part of human nature states or individuals may suppose that to dwell, has dominion in the soul and orders the life of every man, even if it be sometimes mistaken, yet what is done in accordance therewith, and the principle in individuals which obeys this rule, and is best for the whole life of man, is to be called just; although the hurt done by mistake is thought by many to be involuntary injustice. leaving the question of names, about which we are not going to quarrel, and having already delineated three sources of error, we may begin by recalling them somewhat more vividly to our memory: one of them was of the painful sort, which we denominate anger and fear. cleinias: quite right. athenian: there was a second consisting of pleasures and desires, and a third of hopes, which aimed at true opinion about the best. the latter being subdivided into three, we now get five sources of actions, and for these five we will make laws of two kinds. cleinias: what are the two kinds? athenian: there is one kind of actions done by violence and in the light of day, and another kind of actions which are done in darkness and with secret deceit, or sometimes both with violence and deceit; the laws concerning these last ought to have a character of severity. cleinias: naturally. athenian: and now let us return from this digression and complete the work of legislation. laws have been already enacted by us concerning the robbers of the gods, and concerning traitors, and also concerning those who corrupt the laws for the purpose of subverting the government. a man may very likely commit some of these crimes, either in a state of madness or when affected by disease, or under the influence of extreme old age, or in a fit of childish wantonness, himself no better than a child. and if this be made evident to the judges elected to try the cause, on the appeal of the criminal or his advocate, and he be judged to have been in this state when he committed the offence, he shall simply pay for the hurt which he may have done to another; but he shall be exempt from other penalties, unless he have slain some one, and have on his hands the stain of blood. and in that case he shall go to another land and country, and there dwell for a year; and if he return before the expiration of the time which the law appoints, or even set his foot at all on his native land, he shall be bound by the guardians of the law in the public prison for two years, and then go free. having begun to speak of homicide, let us endeavour to lay down laws concerning every different kind of homicide; and, first of all, concerning violent and involuntary homicides. if any one in an athletic contest, and at the public games, involuntarily kills a friend, and he dies either at the time or afterwards of the blows which he has received; or if the like misfortune happens to any one in war, or military exercises, or mimic contests of which the magistrates enjoin the practice, whether with or without arms, when he has been purified according to the law brought from delphi relating to these matters, he shall be innocent. and so in the case of physicians: if their patient dies against their will, they shall be held guiltless by the law. and if one slay another with his own hand, but unintentionally, whether he be unarmed or have some instrument or dart in his hand; or if he kill him by administering food or drink, or by the application of fire or cold, or by suffocating him, whether he do the deed by his own hand, or by the agency of others, he shall be deemed the agent, and shall suffer one of the following penalties: if he kill the slave of another in the belief that he is his own, he shall bear the master of the dead man harmless from loss, or shall pay a penalty of twice the value of the dead man, which the judges shall assess; but purifications must be used greater and more numerous than for those who committed homicide at the games--what they are to be, the interpreters whom the god appoints shall be authorised to declare. and if a man kills his own slave, when he has been purified according to law, he shall be quit of the homicide. and if a man kills a freeman unintentionally, he shall undergo the same purification as he did who killed the slave. but let him not forget also a tale of olden time, which is to this effect: he who has suffered a violent end, when newly dead, if he has had the soul of a freeman in life, is angry with the author of his death; and being himself full of fear and panic by reason of his violent end, when he sees his murderer walking about in his own accustomed haunts, he is stricken with terror and becomes disordered, and this disorder of his, aided by the guilty recollection of the other, is communicated by him with overwhelming force to the murderer and his deeds. wherefore also the murderer must go out of the way of his victim for the entire period of a year, and not himself be found in any spot which was familiar to him throughout the country. and if the dead man be a stranger, the homicide shall be kept from the country of the stranger during a like period. if any one voluntarily obeys this law, the next of kin to the deceased, seeing all that has happened, shall take pity on him, and make peace with him, and show him all gentleness. but if any one is disobedient, and either ventures to go to any of the temples and sacrifice unpurified, or will not continue in exile during the appointed time, the next of kin to the deceased shall proceed against him for murder; and if he be convicted, every part of his punishment shall be doubled. and if the next of kin do not proceed against the perpetrator of the crime, then the pollution shall be deemed to fall upon his own head--the murdered man will fix the guilt upon his kinsman, and he who has a mind to proceed against him may compel him to be absent from his country during five years, according to law. if a stranger unintentionally kill a stranger who is dwelling in the city, he who likes shall prosecute the cause according to the same rules. if he be a metic, let him be absent for a year, or if he be an entire stranger, in addition to the purification, whether he have slain a stranger, or a metic, or a citizen, he shall be banished for life from the country which is in possession of our laws. and if he return contrary to law, let the guardians of the law punish him with death; and let them hand over his property, if he have any, to him who is next of kin to the sufferer. and if he be wrecked, and driven on the coast against his will, he shall take up his abode on the seashore, wetting his feet in the sea, and watching for an opportunity of sailing; but if he be brought by land, and is not his own master, let the magistrate whom he first comes across in the city, release him and send him unharmed over the border. if any one slays a freeman with his own hand, and the deed be done in passion, in the case of such actions we must begin by making a distinction. for a deed is done from passion either when men suddenly, and without intention to kill, cause the death of another by blows and the like on a momentary impulse, and are sorry for the deed immediately afterwards; or again, when after having been insulted in deed or word, men pursue revenge, and kill a person intentionally, and are not sorry for the act. and, therefore, we must assume that these homicides are of two kinds, both of them arising from passion, which may be justly said to be in a mean between the voluntary and involuntary; at the same time, they are neither of them anything more than a likeness or shadow of either. he who treasures up his anger, and avenges himself, not immediately and at the moment, but with insidious design, and after an interval, is like the voluntary; but he who does not treasure up his anger, and takes vengeance on the instant, and without malice prepense, approaches to the involuntary; and yet even he is not altogether involuntary, but is only the image or shadow of the involuntary; wherefore about homicides committed in hot blood, there is a difficulty in determining whether in legislating we shall reckon them as voluntary or as partly involuntary. the best and truest view is to regard them respectively as likenesses only of the voluntary and involuntary, and to distinguish them accordingly as they are done with or without premeditation. and we should make the penalties heavier for those who commit homicide with angry premeditation, and lighter for those who do not premeditate, but smite upon the instant; for that which is like a greater evil should be punished more severely, and that which is like a less evil should be punished less severely: this shall be the rule of our laws. cleinias: certainly. athenian: let us proceed: if any one slays a freeman with his own hand, and the deed be done in a moment of anger, and without premeditation, let the offender suffer in other respects as the involuntary homicide would have suffered, and also undergo an exile of two years, that he may learn to school his passions. but he who slays another from passion, yet with premeditation, shall in other respects suffer as the former; and to this shall be added an exile of three instead of two years--his punishment is to be longer because his passion is greater. the manner of their return shall be on this wise: (and here the law has difficulty in determining exactly; for in some cases the murderer who is judged by the law to be the worse may really be the less cruel, and he who is judged the less cruel may be really the worse, and may have executed the murder in a more savage manner, whereas the other may have been gentler. but in general the degrees of guilt will be such as we have described them. of all these things the guardians of the law must take cognizance): when a homicide of either kind has completed his term of exile, the guardians shall send twelve judges to the borders of the land; these during the interval shall have informed themselves of the actions of the criminals, and they shall judge respecting their pardon and reception; and the homicides shall abide by their judgment. but if after they have returned home, any one of them in a moment of anger repeats the deed, let him be an exile, and return no more; or if he returns, let him suffer as the stranger was to suffer in a similar case. he who kills his own slave shall undergo a purification, but if he kills the slave of another in anger, he shall pay twice the amount of the loss to his owner. and if any homicide is disobedient to the law, and without purification pollutes the agora, or the games, or the temples, he who pleases may bring to trial the next of kin to the dead man for permitting him, and the murderer with him, and may compel the one to exact and the other to suffer a double amount of fines and purifications; and the accuser shall himself receive the fine in accordance with the law. if a slave in a fit of passion kills his master, the kindred of the deceased man may do with the murderer (provided only they do not spare his life) whatever they please, and they will be pure; or if he kills a freeman, who is not his master, the owner shall give up the slave to the relatives of the deceased, and they shall be under an obligation to put him to death, but this may be done in any manner which they please. and if (which is a rare occurrence, but does sometimes happen) a father or a mother in a moment of passion slays a son or daughter by blows, or some other violence, the slayer shall undergo the same purification as in other cases, and be exiled during three years; but when the exile returns the wife shall separate from the husband, and the husband from the wife, and they shall never afterwards beget children together, or live under the same roof, or partake of the same sacred rites with those whom they have deprived of a child or of a brother. and he who is impious and disobedient in such a case shall be brought to trial for impiety by any one who pleases. if in a fit of anger a husband kills his wedded wife, or the wife her husband, the slayer shall undergo the same purification, and the term of exile shall be three years. and when he who has committed any such crime returns, let him have no communication in sacred rites with his children, neither let him sit at the same table with them, and the father or son who disobeys shall be liable to be brought to trial for impiety by any one who pleases. if a brother or a sister in a fit of passion kills a brother or a sister, they shall undergo purification and exile, as was the case with parents who killed their offspring: they shall not come under the same roof, or share in the sacred rites of those whom they have deprived of their brethren, or of their children. and he who is disobedient shall be justly liable to the law concerning impiety, which relates to these matters. if any one is so violent in his passion against his parents, that in the madness of his anger he dares to kill one of them, if the murdered person before dying freely forgives the murderer, let him undergo the purification which is assigned to those who have been guilty of involuntary homicide, and do as they do, and he shall be pure. but if he be not acquitted, the perpetrator of such a deed shall be amenable to many laws--he shall be amenable to the extreme punishments for assault, and impiety, and robbing of temples, for he has robbed his parent of life; and if a man could be slain more than once, most justly would he who in a fit of passion has slain father or mother, undergo many deaths. how can he, whom, alone of all men, even in defence of his life, and when about to suffer death at the hands of his parents, no law will allow to kill his father or his mother who are the authors of his being, and whom the legislator will command to endure any extremity rather than do this--how can he, i say, lawfully receive any other punishment? let death then be the appointed punishment of him who in a fit of passion slays his father or his mother. but if brother kills brother in a civil broil, or under other like circumstances, if the other has begun, and he only defends himself, let him be free from guilt, as he would be if he had slain an enemy; and the same rule will apply if a citizen kill a citizen, or a stranger a stranger. or if a stranger kill a citizen or a citizen a stranger in self-defence, let him be free from guilt in like manner; and so in the case of a slave who has killed a slave; but if a slave have killed a freeman in self-defence, let him be subject to the same law as he who has killed a father; and let the law about the remission of penalties in the case of parricide apply equally to every other remission. whenever any sufferer of his own accord remits the guilt of homicide to another, under the idea that his act was involuntary, let the perpetrator of the deed undergo a purification and remain in exile for a year, according to law. enough has been said of murders violent and involuntary and committed in passion: we have now to speak of voluntary crimes done with injustice of every kind and with premeditation, through the influence of pleasures, and desires, and jealousies. cleinias: very good. athenian: let us first speak, as far as we are able, of their various kinds. the greatest cause of them is lust, which gets the mastery of the soul maddened by desire; and this is most commonly found to exist where the passion reigns which is strongest and most prevalent among the mass of mankind: i mean where the power of wealth breeds endless desires of never-to-be-satisfied acquisition, originating in natural disposition, and a miserable want of education. of this want of education, the false praise of wealth which is bruited about both among hellenes and barbarians is the cause; they deem that to be the first of goods which in reality is only the third. and in this way they wrong both posterity and themselves, for nothing can be nobler and better than that the truth about wealth should be spoken in all states--namely, that riches are for the sake of the body, as the body is for the sake of the soul. they are good, and wealth is intended by nature to be for the sake of them, and is therefore inferior to them both, and third in order of excellence. this argument teaches us that he who would be happy ought not to seek to be rich, or rather he should seek to be rich justly and temperately, and then there would be no murders in states requiring to be purged away by other murders. but now, as i said at first, avarice is the chiefest cause and source of the worst trials for voluntary homicide. a second cause is ambition: this creates jealousies, which are troublesome companions, above all to the jealous man himself, and in a less degree to the chiefs of the state. and a third cause is cowardly and unjust fear, which has been the occasion of many murders. when a man is doing or has done something which he desires that no one should know him to be doing or to have done, he will take the life of those who are likely to inform of such things, if he have no other means of getting rid of them. let this be said as a prelude concerning crimes of violence in general; and i must not omit to mention a tradition which is firmly believed by many, and has been received by them from those who are learned in the mysteries: they say that such deeds will be punished in the world below, and also that when the perpetrators return to this world they will pay the natural penalty which is due to the sufferer, and end their lives in like manner by the hand of another. if he who is about to commit murder believes this, and is made by the mere prelude to dread such a penalty, there is no need to proceed with the proclamation of the law. but if he will not listen, let the following law be declared and registered against him: whoever shall wrongfully and of design slay with his own hand any of his kinsmen, shall in the first place be deprived of legal privileges; and he shall not pollute the temples, or the agora, or the harbours, or any other place of meeting, whether he is forbidden of men or not; for the law, which represents the whole state, forbids him, and always is and will be in the attitude of forbidding him. and if a cousin or nearer relative of the deceased, whether on the male or female side, does not prosecute the homicide when he ought, and have him proclaimed an outlaw, he shall in the first place be involved in the pollution, and incur the hatred of the gods, even as the curse of the law stirs up the voices of men against him; and in the second place he shall be liable to be prosecuted by any one who is willing to inflict retribution on behalf of the dead. and he who would avenge a murder shall observe all the precautionary ceremonies of lavation, and any others which the god commands in cases of this kind. let him have proclamation made, and then go forth and compel the perpetrator to suffer the execution of justice according to the law. now the legislator may easily show that these things must be accomplished by prayers and sacrifices to certain gods, who are concerned with the prevention of murders in states. but who these gods are, and what should be the true manner of instituting such trials with due regard to religion, the guardians of the law, aided by the interpreters, and the prophets, and the god, shall determine, and when they have determined let them carry on the prosecution at law. the cause shall have the same judges who are appointed to decide in the case of those who plunder temples. let him who is convicted be punished with death, and let him not be buried in the country of the murdered man, for this would be shameless as well as impious. but if he fly and will not stand his trial, let him fly for ever; or, if he set foot anywhere on any part of the murdered man's country, let any relation of the deceased, or any other citizen who may first happen to meet with him, kill him with impunity, or bind and deliver him to those among the judges of the case who are magistrates, that they may put him to death. and let the prosecutor demand surety of him whom he prosecutes; three sureties sufficient in the opinion of the magistrates who try the cause shall be provided by him, and they shall undertake to produce him at the trial. but if he be unwilling or unable to provide sureties, then the magistrates shall take him and keep him in bonds, and produce him at the day of trial. if a man do not commit a murder with his own hand, but contrives the death of another, and is the author of the deed in intention and design, and he continues to dwell in the city, having his soul not pure of the guilt of murder, let him be tried in the same way, except in what relates to the sureties; and also, if he be found guilty, his body after execution may have burial in his native land, but in all other respects his case shall be as the former; and whether a stranger shall kill a citizen, or a citizen a stranger, or a slave a slave, there shall be no difference as touching murder by one's own hand or by contrivance, except in the matter of sureties; and these, as has been said, shall be required of the actual murderer only, and he who brings the accusation shall bind them over at the time. if a slave be convicted of slaying a freeman voluntarily, either by his own hand or by contrivance, let the public executioner take him in the direction of the sepulchre, to a place whence he can see the tomb of the dead man, and inflict upon him as many stripes as the person who caught him orders, and if he survive, let him put him to death. and if any one kills a slave who has done no wrong, because he is afraid that he may inform of some base and evil deeds of his own, or for any similar reason, in such a case let him pay the penalty of murder, as he would have done if he had slain a citizen. there are things about which it is terrible and unpleasant to legislate, but impossible not to legislate. if, for example, there should be murders of kinsmen, either perpetrated by the hands of kinsmen, or by their contrivance, voluntary and purely malicious, which most often happen in ill-regulated and ill-educated states, and may perhaps occur even in a country where a man would not expect to find them, we must repeat once more the tale which we narrated a little while ago, in the hope that he who hears us will be the more disposed to abstain voluntarily on these grounds from murders which are utterly abominable. for the myth, or saying, or whatever we ought to call it, has been plainly set forth by priests of old; they have pronounced that the justice which guards and avenges the blood of kindred, follows the law of retaliation, and ordains that he who has done any murderous act should of necessity suffer that which he has done. he who has slain a father shall himself be slain at some time or other by his children--if a mother, he shall of necessity take a woman's nature, and lose his life at the hands of his offspring in after ages; for where the blood of a family has been polluted there is no other purification, nor can the pollution be washed out until the homicidal soul which did the deed has given life for life, and has propitiated and laid to sleep the wrath of the whole family. these are the retributions of heaven, and by such punishments men should be deterred. but if they are not deterred, and any one should be incited by some fatality to deprive his father, or mother, or brethren, or children, of life voluntarily and of purpose, for him the earthly lawgiver legislates as follows: there shall be the same proclamations about outlawry, and there shall be the same sureties which have been enacted in the former cases. but in his case, if he be convicted, the servants of the judges and the magistrates shall slay him at an appointed place without the city where three ways meet, and there expose his body naked, and each of the magistrates on behalf of the whole city shall take a stone and cast it upon the head of the dead man, and so deliver the city from pollution; after that, they shall bear him to the borders of the land, and cast him forth unburied, according to law. and what shall he suffer who slays him who of all men, as they say, is his own best friend? i mean the suicide, who deprives himself by violence of his appointed share of life, not because the law of the state requires him, nor yet under the compulsion of some painful and inevitable misfortune which has come upon him, nor because he has had to suffer from irremediable and intolerable shame, but who from sloth or want of manliness imposes upon himself an unjust penalty. for him, what ceremonies there are to be of purification and burial god knows, and about these the next of kin should enquire of the interpreters and of the laws thereto relating, and do according to their injunctions. they who meet their death in this way shall be buried alone, and none shall be laid by their side; they shall be buried ingloriously in the borders of the twelve portions of the land, in such places as are uncultivated and nameless, and no column or inscription shall mark the place of their interment. and if a beast of burden or other animal cause the death of any one, except in the case of anything of that kind happening to a competitor in the public contests, the kinsmen of the deceased shall prosecute the slayer for murder, and the wardens of the country, such, and so many as the kinsmen appoint, shall try the cause, and let the beast when condemned be slain by them, and let them cast it beyond the borders. and if any lifeless thing deprive a man of life, except in the case of a thunderbolt or other fatal dart sent from the gods--whether a man is killed by lifeless objects falling upon him, or by his falling upon them, the nearest of kin shall appoint the nearest neighbour to be a judge, and thereby acquit himself and the whole family of guilt. and he shall cast forth the guilty thing beyond the border, as has been said about the animals. if a man is found dead, and his murderer be unknown, and after a diligent search cannot be detected, there shall be the same proclamation as in the previous cases, and the same interdict on the murderer; and having proceeded against him, they shall proclaim in the agora by a herald, that he who has slain such and such a person, and has been convicted of murder, shall not set his foot in the temples, nor at all in the country of the murdered man, and if he appears and is discovered, he shall die, and be cast forth unburied beyond the border. let this one law then be laid down by us about murder; and let cases of this sort be so regarded. and now let us say in what cases and under what circumstances the murderer is rightly free from guilt: if a man catch a thief coming into his house by night to steal, and he take and kill him, or if he slay a footpad in self-defence, he shall be guiltless. and any one who does violence to a free woman or a youth, shall be slain with impunity by the injured person, or by his or her father or brothers or sons. if a man find his wife suffering violence, he may kill the violator, and be guiltless in the eye of the law; or if a person kill another in warding off death from his father or mother or children or brethren or wife who are doing no wrong, he shall assuredly be guiltless. thus much as to the nurture and education of the living soul of man, having which, he can, and without which, if he unfortunately be without them, he cannot live; and also concerning the punishments which are to be inflicted for violent deaths, let thus much be enacted. of the nurture and education of the body we have spoken before, and next in order we have to speak of deeds of violence, voluntary and involuntary, which men do to one another; these we will now distinguish, as far as we are able, according to their nature and number, and determine what will be the suitable penalties of each, and so assign to them their proper place in the series of our enactments. the poorest legislator will have no difficulty in determining that wounds and mutilations arising out of wounds should follow next in order after deaths. let wounds be divided as homicides were divided--into those which are involuntary, and which are given in passion or from fear, and those inflicted voluntarily and with premeditation. concerning all this, we must make some such proclamation as the following: mankind must have laws, and conform to them, or their life would be as bad as that of the most savage beast. and the reason of this is that no man's nature is able to know what is best for human society; or knowing, always able and willing to do what is best. in the first place, there is a difficulty in apprehending that the true art of politics is concerned, not with private but with public good (for public good binds together states, but private only distracts them); and that both the public and private good as well of individuals as of states is greater when the state and not the individual is first considered. in the second place, although a person knows in the abstract that this is true, yet if he be possessed of absolute and irresponsible power, he will never remain firm in his principles or persist in regarding the public good as primary in the state, and the private good as secondary. human nature will be always drawing him into avarice and selfishness, avoiding pain and pursuing pleasure without any reason, and will bring these to the front, obscuring the juster and better; and so working darkness in his soul will at last fill with evils both him and the whole city. for if a man were born so divinely gifted that he could naturally apprehend the truth, he would have no need of laws to rule over him; for there is no law or order which is above knowledge, nor can mind, without impiety, be deemed the subject or slave of any man, but rather the lord of all. i speak of mind, true and free, and in harmony with nature. but then there is no such mind anywhere, or at least not much; and therefore we must choose law and order, which are second best. these look at things as they exist for the most part only, and are unable to survey the whole of them. and therefore i have spoken as i have. and now we will determine what penalty he ought to pay or suffer who has hurt or wounded another. any one may easily imagine the questions which have to be asked in all such cases: what did he wound, or whom, or how, or when? for there are innumerable particulars of this sort which greatly vary from one another. and to allow courts of law to determine all these things, or not to determine any of them, is alike impossible. there is one particular which they must determine in all cases--the question of fact. and then, again, that the legislator should not permit them to determine what punishment is to be inflicted in any of these cases, but should himself decide about all of them, small or great, is next to impossible. cleinias: then what is to be the inference? athenian: the inference is, that some things should be left to courts of law; others the legislator must decide for himself. cleinias: and what ought the legislator to decide, and what ought he to leave to the courts of law? athenian: i may reply, that in a state in which the courts are bad and mute, because the judges conceal their opinions and decide causes clandestinely; or what is worse, when they are disorderly and noisy, as in a theatre, clapping or hooting in turn this or that orator--i say that then there is a very serious evil, which affects the whole state. unfortunate is the necessity of having to legislate for such courts, but where the necessity exists, the legislator should only allow them to ordain the penalties for the smallest offences; if the state for which he is legislating be of this character, he must take most matters into his own hands and speak distinctly. but when a state has good courts, and the judges are well trained and scrupulously tested, the determination of the penalties or punishments which shall be inflicted on the guilty may fairly and with advantage be left to them. and we are not to be blamed for not legislating concerning all that large class of matters which judges far worse educated than ours would be able to determine, assigning to each offence what is due both to the perpetrator and to the sufferer. we believe those for whom we are legislating to be best able to judge, and therefore to them the greater part may be left. at the same time, as i have often said, we should exhibit to the judges, as we have done, the outline and form of the punishments to be inflicted, and then they will not transgress the just rule. that was an excellent practice, which we observed before, and which now that we are resuming the work of legislation, may with advantage be repeated by us. let the enactment about wounding be in the following terms: if any one has a purpose and intention to slay another who is not his enemy, and whom the law does not permit him to slay, and he wounds him, but is unable to kill him, he who had the intent and has wounded him is not to be pitied--he deserves no consideration, but should be regarded as a murderer and be tried for murder. still having respect to the fortune which has in a manner favoured him, and to the providence which in pity to him and to the wounded man saved the one from a fatal blow, and the other from an accursed fate and calamity--as a thank-offering to this deity, and in order not to oppose his will--in such a case the law will remit the punishment of death, and only compel the offender to emigrate to a neighbouring city for the rest of his life, where he shall remain in the enjoyment of all his possessions. but if he have injured the wounded man, he shall make such compensation for the injury as the court deciding the cause shall assess, and the same judges shall decide who would have decided if the man had died of his wounds. and if a child intentionally wound his parents, or a servant his master, death shall be the penalty. and if a brother or a sister intentionally wound a brother or a sister, and is found guilty, death shall be the penalty. and if a husband wound a wife, or a wife a husband, with intent to kill, let him or her undergo perpetual exile; if they have sons or daughters who are still young, the guardians shall take care of their property, and have charge of the children as orphans. if their sons are grown up, they shall be under no obligation to support the exiled parent, but they shall possess the property themselves. and if he who meets with such a misfortune has no children, the kindred of the exiled man to the degree of sons of cousins, both on the male and female side, shall meet together, and after taking counsel with the guardians of the law and the priests, shall appoint a th citizen to be the heir of the house, considering and reasoning that no house of all the belongs to the inhabitant or to the whole family, but is the public and private property of the state. now the state should seek to have its houses as holy and happy as possible. and if any one of the houses be unfortunate, and stained with impiety, and the owner leave no posterity, but dies unmarried, or married and childless, having suffered death as the penalty of murder or some other crime committed against the gods or against his fellow-citizens, of which death is the penalty distinctly laid down in the law; or if any of the citizens be in perpetual exile, and also childless, that house shall first of all be purified and undergo expiation according to law; and then let the kinsmen of the house, as we were just now saying, and the guardians of the law, meet and consider what family there is in the state which is of the highest repute for virtue and also for good fortune, in which there are a number of sons; from that family let them take one and introduce him to the father and forefathers of the dead man as their son, and, for the sake of the omen, let him be called so, that he may be the continuer of their family, the keeper of their hearth, and the minister of their sacred rites with better fortune than his father had; and when they have made this supplication, they shall make him heir according to law, and the offending person they shall leave nameless and childless and portionless when calamities such as these overtake him. now the boundaries of some things do not touch one another, but there is a borderland which comes in between, preventing them from touching. and we were saying that actions done from passion are of this nature, and come in between the voluntary and involuntary. if a person be convicted of having inflicted wounds in a passion, in the first place he shall pay twice the amount of the injury, if the wound be curable, or, if incurable, four times the amount of the injury; or if the wound be curable, and at the same time cause great and notable disgrace to the wounded person, he shall pay fourfold. and whenever any one in wounding another injures not only the sufferer, but also the city, and makes him incapable of defending his country against the enemy, he, besides the other penalties, shall pay a penalty for the loss which the state has incurred. and the penalty shall be, that in addition to his own times of service, he shall serve on behalf of the disabled person, and shall take his place in war; or, if he refuse, he shall be liable to be convicted by law of refusal to serve. the compensation for the injury, whether to be twofold or threefold or fourfold, shall be fixed by the judges who convict him. and if, in like manner, a brother wounds a brother, the parents and kindred of either sex, including the children of cousins, whether on the male or female side, shall meet, and when they have judged the cause, they shall entrust the assessment of damages to the parents, as is natural; and if the estimate be disputed, then the kinsmen on the male side shall make the estimate, or if they cannot, they shall commit the matter to the guardians of the law. and when similar charges of wounding are brought by children against their parents, those who are more than sixty years of age, having children of their own, not adopted, shall be required to decide; and if any one is convicted, they shall determine whether he or she ought to die, or suffer some other punishment either greater than death, or, at any rate, not much less. a kinsman of the offender shall not be allowed to judge the cause, not even if he be of the age which is prescribed by the law. if a slave in a fit of anger wound a freeman, the owner of the slave shall give him up to the wounded man, who may do as he pleases with him, and if he do not give him up he shall himself make good the injury. and if any one says that the slave and the wounded man are conspiring together, let him argue the point, and if he is cast, he shall pay for the wrong three times over, but if he gains his case, the freeman who conspired with the slave shall be liable to an action for kidnapping. and if any one unintentionally wounds another he shall simply pay for the harm, for no legislator is able to control chance. in such a case the judges shall be the same as those who are appointed in the case of children suing their parents; and they shall estimate the amount of the injury. all the preceding injuries and every kind of assault are deeds of violence; and every man, woman, or child ought to consider that the elder has the precedence of the younger in honour, both among the gods and also among men who would live in security and happiness. wherefore it is a foul thing and hateful to the gods to see an elder man assaulted by a younger in the city, and it is reasonable that a young man when struck by an elder should lightly endure his anger, laying up in store for himself a like honour when he is old. let this be the law: every one shall reverence his elder in word and deed; he shall respect any one who is twenty years older than himself, whether male or female, regarding him or her as his father or mother; and he shall abstain from laying hands on any one who is of an age to have been his father or mother, out of reverence to the gods who preside over birth; similarly he shall keep his hands from a stranger, whether he be an old inhabitant or newly arrived; he shall not venture to correct such an one by blows, either as the aggressor or in self-defence. if he thinks that some stranger has struck him out of wantonness or insolence, and ought to be punished, he shall take him to the wardens of the city, but let him not strike him, that the stranger may be kept far away from the possibility of lifting up his hand against a citizen, and let the wardens of the city take the offender and examine him, not forgetting their duty to the god of strangers, and in case the stranger appears to have struck the citizen unjustly, let them inflict upon him as many blows with the scourge as he was himself inflicted, and quell his presumption. but if he be innocent, they shall threaten and rebuke the man who arrested him, and let them both go. if a person strikes another of the same age or somewhat older than himself, who has no children, whether he be an old man who strikes an old man or a young man who strikes a young man, let the person struck defend himself in the natural way without a weapon and with his hands only. he who, being more than forty years of age, dares to fight with another, whether he be the aggressor or in self-defence, shall be regarded as rude and ill-mannered and slavish--this will be a disgraceful punishment, and therefore suitable to him. the obedient nature will readily yield to such exhortations, but the disobedient, who heeds not the prelude, shall have the law ready for him: if any man smite another who is older than himself, either by twenty or by more years, in the first place, he who is at hand, not being younger than the combatants, nor their equal in age, shall separate them, or be disgraced according to law; but if he be the equal in age of the person who is struck or younger, he shall defend the person injured as he would a brother or father or still older relative. further, let him who dares to smite an elder be tried for assault, as i have said, and if he be found guilty, let him be imprisoned for a period of not less than a year, or if the judges approve of a longer period, their decision shall be final. but if a stranger or metic smite one who is older by twenty years or more, the same law shall hold about the bystanders assisting, and he who is found guilty in such a suit, if he be a stranger but not resident, shall be imprisoned during a period of two years; and a metic who disobeys the laws shall be imprisoned for three years, unless the court assign him a longer term. and let him who was present in any of these cases and did not assist according to law be punished, if he be of the highest class, by paying a fine of a mina; or if he be of the second class, of fifty drachmas; or if of the third class, by a fine of thirty drachmas; or if he be of the fourth class, by a fine of twenty drachmas; and the generals and taxiarchs and phylarchs and hipparchs shall form the court in such cases. laws are partly framed for the sake of good men, in order to instruct them how they may live on friendly terms with one another, and partly for the sake of those who refuse to be instructed, whose spirit cannot be subdued, or softened, or hindered from plunging into evil. these are the persons who cause the word to be spoken which i am about to utter; for them the legislator legislates of necessity, and in the hope that there may be no need of his laws. he who shall dare to lay violent hands upon his father or mother, or any still older relative, having no fear either of the wrath of the gods above, or of the punishments that are spoken of in the world below, but transgresses in contempt of ancient and universal traditions as though he were too wise to believe in them, requires some extreme measure of prevention. now death is not the worst that can happen to men; far worse are the punishments which are said to pursue them in the world below. but although they are most true tales, they work on such souls no prevention; for if they had any effect there would be no slayers of mothers, or impious hands lifted up against parents; and therefore the punishments of this world which are inflicted during life ought not in such cases to fall short, if possible, of the terrors of the world below. let our enactment then be as follows: if a man dare to strike his father or his mother, or their fathers or mothers, he being at the time of sound mind, then let any one who is at hand come to the rescue as has been already said, and the metic or stranger who comes to the rescue shall be called to the first place in the games; but if he do not come he shall suffer the punishment of perpetual exile. he who is not a metic, if he comes to the rescue, shall have praise, and if he do not come, blame. and if a slave come to the rescue, let him be made free, but if he do not come to the rescue, let him receive strokes of the whip, by order of the wardens of the agora, if the occurrence take place in the agora; or if somewhere in the city beyond the limits of the agora, any warden of the city who is in residence shall punish him; or if in the country, then the commanders of the wardens of the country. if those who are near at the time be inhabitants of the same place, whether they be youths, or men, or women, let them come to the rescue and denounce him as the impious one; and he who does not come to the rescue shall fall under the curse of zeus, the god of kindred and of ancestors, according to law. and if any one is found guilty of assaulting a parent, let him in the first place be forever banished from the city into the country, and let him abstain from the temples; and if he do not abstain, the wardens of the country shall punish him with blows, or in any way which they please, and if he return he shall be put to death. and if any freeman eat or drink, or have any other sort of intercourse with him, or only meeting him have voluntarily touched him, he shall not enter into any temple, nor into the agora, nor into the city, until he is purified; for he should consider that he has become tainted by a curse. and if he disobeys the law, and pollutes the city and the temples contrary to law, and one of the magistrates sees him and does not indict him, when he gives in his account this omission shall be a most serious charge. if a slave strike a freeman, whether a stranger or a citizen, let any one who is present come to the rescue, or pay the penalty already mentioned; and let the bystanders bind him, and deliver him up to the injured person, and he receiving him shall put him in chains, and inflict on him as many stripes as he pleases; but having punished him he must surrender him to his master according to law, and not deprive him of his property. let the law be as follows: the slave who strikes a freeman, not at the command of the magistrates, his owner shall receive bound from the man whom he has stricken, and not release him until the slave has persuaded the man whom he has stricken that he ought to be released. and let there be the same laws about women in relation to women, and about men and women in relation to one another. book x. and now having spoken of assaults, let us sum up all acts of violence under a single law, which shall be as follows: no one shall take or carry away any of his neighbour's goods, neither shall he use anything which is his neighbour's without the consent of the owner; for these are the offences which are and have been, and will ever be, the source of all the aforesaid evils. the greatest of them are excesses and insolences of youth, and are offences against the greatest when they are done against religion; and especially great when in violation of public and holy rites, or of the partly-common rites in which tribes and phratries share; and in the second degree great when they are committed against private rites and sepulchres, and in the third degree (not to repeat the acts formerly mentioned), when insults are offered to parents; the fourth kind of violence is when any one, regardless of the authority of the rulers, takes or carries away or makes use of anything which belongs to them, not having their consent; and the fifth kind is when the violation of the civil rights of an individual demands reparation. there should be a common law embracing all these cases. for we have already said in general terms what shall be the punishment of sacrilege, whether fraudulent or violent, and now we have to determine what is to be the punishment of those who speak or act insolently toward the gods. but first we must give them an admonition which may be in the following terms: no one who in obedience to the laws believed that there were gods, ever intentionally did any unholy act, or uttered any unlawful word; but he who did must have supposed one of three things--either that they did not exist--which is the first possibility, or secondly, that, if they did, they took no care of man, or thirdly, that they were easily appeased and turned aside from their purpose by sacrifices and prayers. cleinias: what shall we say or do to these persons? athenian: my good friend, let us first hear the jests which i suspect that they in their superiority will utter against us. cleinias: what jests? athenian: they will make some irreverent speech of this sort: 'o inhabitants of athens, and sparta, and cnosus,' they will reply, 'in that you speak truly; for some of us deny the very existence of the gods, while others, as you say, are of opinion that they do not care about us; and others that they are turned from their course by gifts. now we have a right to claim, as you yourself allowed, in the matter of laws, that before you are hard upon us and threaten us, you should argue with us and convince us--you should first attempt to teach and persuade us that there are gods by reasonable evidences, and also that they are too good to be unrighteous, or to be propitiated, or turned from their course by gifts. for when we hear such things said of them by those who are esteemed to be the best of poets, and orators, and prophets, and priests, and by innumerable others, the thoughts of most of us are not set upon abstaining from unrighteous acts, but upon doing them and atoning for them. when lawgivers profess that they are gentle and not stern, we think that they should first of all use persuasion to us, and show us the existence of gods, if not in a better manner than other men, at any rate in a truer; and who knows but that we shall hearken to you? if then our request is a fair one, please to accept our challenge. cleinias: but is there any difficulty in proving the existence of the gods? athenian: how would you prove it? cleinias: how? in the first place, the earth and the sun, and the stars and the universe, and the fair order of the seasons, and the division of them into years and months, furnish proofs of their existence, and also there is the fact that all hellenes and barbarians believe in them. athenian: i fear, my sweet friend, though i will not say that i much regard, the contempt with which the profane will be likely to assail us. for you do not understand the nature of their complaint, and you fancy that they rush into impiety only from a love of sensual pleasure. cleinias: why, stranger, what other reason is there? athenian: one which you who live in a different atmosphere would never guess. cleinias: what is it? athenian: a very grievous sort of ignorance which is imagined to be the greatest wisdom. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: at athens there are tales preserved in writing which the virtue of your state, as i am informed, refuses to admit. they speak of the gods in prose as well as verse, and the oldest of them tell of the origin of the heavens and of the world, and not far from the beginning of their story they proceed to narrate the birth of the gods, and how after they were born they behaved to one another. whether these stories have in other ways a good or a bad influence, i should not like to be severe upon them, because they are ancient; but, looking at them with reference to the duties of children to their parents, i cannot praise them, or think that they are useful, or at all true. of the words of the ancients i have nothing more to say; and i should wish to say of them only what is pleasing to the gods. but as to our younger generation and their wisdom, i cannot let them off when they do mischief. for do but mark the effect of their words: when you and i argue for the existence of the gods, and produce the sun, moon, stars, and earth, claiming for them a divine being, if we would listen to the aforesaid philosophers we should say that they are earth and stones only, which can have no care at all of human affairs, and that all religion is a cooking up of words and a make-believe. cleinias: one such teacher, o stranger, would be bad enough, and you imply that there are many of them, which is worse. athenian: well, then; what shall we say or do? shall we assume that some one is accusing us among unholy men, who are trying to escape from the effect of our legislation; and that they say of us--how dreadful that you should legislate on the supposition that there are gods! shall we make a defence of ourselves? or shall we leave them and return to our laws, lest the prelude should become longer than the law? for the discourse will certainly extend to great length, if we are to treat the impiously disposed as they desire, partly demonstrating to them at some length the things of which they demand an explanation, partly making them afraid or dissatisfied, and then proceed to the requisite enactments. cleinias: yes, stranger; but then how often have we repeated already that on the present occasion there is no reason why brevity should be preferred to length; for who is 'at our heels?' as the saying goes, and it would be paltry and ridiculous to prefer the shorter to the better. it is a matter of no small consequence, in some way or other to prove that there are gods, and that they are good, and regard justice more than men do. the demonstration of this would be the best and noblest prelude of all our laws. and therefore, without impatience, and without hurry, let us unreservedly consider the whole matter, summoning up all the power of persuasion which we possess. athenian: seeing you thus in earnest, i would fain offer up a prayer that i may succeed: but i must proceed at once. who can be calm when he is called upon to prove the existence of the gods? who can avoid hating and abhorring the men who are and have been the cause of this argument; i speak of those who will not believe the tales which they have heard as babes and sucklings from their mothers and nurses, repeated by them both in jest and earnest, like charms, who have also heard them in the sacrificial prayers, and seen sights accompanying them--sights and sounds delightful to children--and their parents during the sacrifices showing an intense earnestness on behalf of their children and of themselves, and with eager interest talking to the gods, and beseeching them, as though they were firmly convinced of their existence; who likewise see and hear the prostrations and invocations which are made by hellenes and barbarians at the rising and setting of the sun and moon, in all the vicissitudes of life, not as if they thought that there were no gods, but as if there could be no doubt of their existence, and no suspicion of their non-existence; when men, knowing all these things, despise them on no real grounds, as would be admitted by all who have any particle of intelligence, and when they force us to say what we are now saying, how can any one in gentle terms remonstrate with the like of them, when he has to begin by proving to them the very existence of the gods? yet the attempt must be made; for it would be unseemly that one half of mankind should go mad in their lust of pleasure, and the other half in their indignation at such persons. our address to these lost and perverted natures should not be spoken in passion; let us suppose ourselves to select some one of them, and gently reason with him, smothering our anger: o my son, we will say to him, you are young, and the advance of time will make you reverse many of the opinions which you now hold. wait awhile, and do not attempt to judge at present of the highest things; and that is the highest of which you now think nothing--to know the gods rightly and to live accordingly. and in the first place let me indicate to you one point which is of great importance, and about which i cannot be deceived: you and your friends are not the first who have held this opinion about the gods. there have always been persons more or less numerous who have had the same disorder. i have known many of them, and can tell you, that no one who had taken up in youth this opinion, that the gods do not exist, ever continued in the same until he was old; the two other notions certainly do continue in some cases, but not in many; the notion, i mean, that the gods exist, but take no heed of human things, and the other notion that they do take heed of them, but are easily propitiated with sacrifices and prayers. as to the opinion about the gods which may some day become clear to you, i advise you to wait and consider if it be true or not; ask of others, and above all of the legislator. in the meantime take care that you do not offend against the gods. for the duty of the legislator is and always will be to teach you the truth of these matters. cleinias: our address, stranger, thus far, is excellent. athenian: quite true, megillus and cleinias, but i am afraid that we have unconsciously lighted on a strange doctrine. cleinias: what doctrine do you mean? athenian: the wisest of all doctrines, in the opinion of many. cleinias: i wish that you would speak plainer. athenian: the doctrine that all things do become, have become, and will become, some by nature, some by art, and some by chance. cleinias: is not that true? athenian: well, philosophers are probably right; at any rate we may as well follow in their track, and examine what is the meaning of them and their disciples. cleinias: by all means. athenian: they say that the greatest and fairest things are the work of nature and of chance, the lesser of art, which, receiving from nature the greater and primeval creations, moulds and fashions all those lesser works which are generally termed artificial. cleinias: how is that? athenian: i will explain my meaning still more clearly. they say that fire and water, and earth and air, all exist by nature and chance, and none of them by art, and that as to the bodies which come next in order--earth, and sun, and moon, and stars--they have been created by means of these absolutely inanimate existences. the elements are severally moved by chance and some inherent force according to certain affinities among them--of hot with cold, or of dry with moist, or of soft with hard, and according to all the other accidental admixtures of opposites which have been formed by necessity. after this fashion and in this manner the whole heaven has been created, and all that is in the heaven, as well as animals and all plants, and all the seasons come from these elements, not by the action of mind, as they say, or of any god, or from art, but as i was saying, by nature and chance only. art sprang up afterwards and out of these, mortal and of mortal birth, and produced in play certain images and very partial imitations of the truth, having an affinity to one another, such as music and painting create and their companion arts. and there are other arts which have a serious purpose, and these co-operate with nature, such, for example, as medicine, and husbandry, and gymnastic. and they say that politics co-operate with nature, but in a less degree, and have more of art; also that legislation is entirely a work of art, and is based on assumptions which are not true. cleinias: how do you mean? athenian: in the first place, my dear friend, these people would say that the gods exist not by nature, but by art, and by the laws of states, which are different in different places, according to the agreement of those who make them; and that the honourable is one thing by nature and another thing by law, and that the principles of justice have no existence at all in nature, but that mankind are always disputing about them and altering them; and that the alterations which are made by art and by law have no basis in nature, but are of authority for the moment and at the time at which they are made. these, my friends, are the sayings of wise men, poets and prose writers, which find a way into the minds of youth. they are told by them that the highest right is might, and in this way the young fall into impieties, under the idea that the gods are not such as the law bids them imagine; and hence arise factions, these philosophers inviting them to lead a true life according to nature, that is, to live in real dominion over others, and not in legal subjection to them. cleinias: what a dreadful picture, stranger, have you given, and how great is the injury which is thus inflicted on young men to the ruin both of states and families! athenian: true, cleinias; but then what should the lawgiver do when this evil is of long standing? should he only rise up in the state and threaten all mankind, proclaiming that if they will not say and think that the gods are such as the law ordains (and this may be extended generally to the honourable, the just, and to all the highest things, and to all that relates to virtue and vice), and if they will not make their actions conform to the copy which the law gives them, then he who refuses to obey the law shall die, or suffer stripes and bonds, or privation of citizenship, or in some cases be punished by loss of property and exile? should he not rather, when he is making laws for men, at the same time infuse the spirit of persuasion into his words, and mitigate the severity of them as far as he can? cleinias: why, stranger, if such persuasion be at all possible, then a legislator who has anything in him ought never to weary of persuading men; he ought to leave nothing unsaid in support of the ancient opinion that there are gods, and of all those other truths which you were just now mentioning; he ought to support the law and also art, and acknowledge that both alike exist by nature, and no less than nature, if they are the creations of mind in accordance with right reason, as you appear to me to maintain, and i am disposed to agree with you in thinking. athenian: yes, my enthusiastic cleinias; but are not these things when spoken to a multitude hard to be understood, not to mention that they take up a dismal length of time? cleinias: why, stranger, shall we, whose patience failed not when drinking or music were the themes of discourse, weary now of discoursing about the gods, and about divine things? and the greatest help to rational legislation is that the laws when once written down are always at rest; they can be put to the test at any future time, and therefore, if on first hearing they seem difficult, there is no reason for apprehension about them, because any man however dull can go over them and consider them again and again; nor if they are tedious but useful, is there any reason or religion, as it seems to me, in any man refusing to maintain the principles of them to the utmost of his power. megillus: stranger, i like what cleinias is saying. athenian: yes, megillus, and we should do as he proposes; for if impious discourses were not scattered, as i may say, throughout the world, there would have been no need for any vindication of the existence of the gods--but seeing that they are spread far and wide, such arguments are needed; and who should come to the rescue of the greatest laws, when they are being undermined by bad men, but the legislator himself? megillus: there is no more proper champion of them. athenian: well, then, tell me, cleinias--for i must ask you to be my partner--does not he who talks in this way conceive fire and water and earth and air to be the first elements of all things? these he calls nature, and out of these he supposes the soul to be formed afterwards; and this is not a mere conjecture of ours about his meaning, but is what he really means. cleinias: very true. athenian: then, by heaven, we have discovered the source of this vain opinion of all those physical investigators; and i would have you examine their arguments with the utmost care, for their impiety is a very serious matter; they not only make a bad and mistaken use of argument, but they lead away the minds of others: that is my opinion of them. cleinias: you are right; but i should like to know how this happens. athenian: i fear that the argument may seem singular. cleinias: do not hesitate, stranger; i see that you are afraid of such a discussion carrying you beyond the limits of legislation. but if there be no other way of showing our agreement in the belief that there are gods, of whom the law is said now to approve, let us take this way, my good sir. athenian: then i suppose that i must repeat the singular argument of those who manufacture the soul according to their own impious notions; they affirm that which is the first cause of the generation and destruction of all things, to be not first, but last, and that which is last to be first, and hence they have fallen into error about the true nature of the gods. cleinias: still i do not understand you. athenian: nearly all of them, my friends, seem to be ignorant of the nature and power of the soul, especially in what relates to her origin: they do not know that she is among the first of things, and before all bodies, and is the chief author of their changes and transpositions. and if this is true, and if the soul is older than the body, must not the things which are of the soul's kindred be of necessity prior to those which appertain to the body? cleinias: certainly. athenian: then thought and attention and mind and art and law will be prior to that which is hard and soft and heavy and light; and the great and primitive works and actions will be works of art; they will be the first, and after them will come nature and works of nature, which however is a wrong term for men to apply to them; these will follow, and will be under the government of art and mind. cleinias: but why is the word 'nature' wrong? athenian: because those who use the term mean to say that nature is the first creative power; but if the soul turn out to be the primeval element, and not fire or air, then in the truest sense and beyond other things the soul may be said to exist by nature; and this would be true if you proved that the soul is older than the body, but not otherwise. cleinias: you are quite right. athenian: shall we, then, take this as the next point to which our attention should be directed? cleinias: by all means. athenian: let us be on our guard lest this most deceptive argument with its youthful looks, beguiling us old men, give us the slip and make a laughing-stock of us. who knows but we may be aiming at the greater, and fail of attaining the lesser? suppose that we three have to pass a rapid river, and i, being the youngest of the three and experienced in rivers, take upon me the duty of making the attempt first by myself; leaving you in safety on the bank, i am to examine whether the river is passable by older men like yourselves, and if such appears to be the case then i shall invite you to follow, and my experience will help to convey you across; but if the river is impassable by you, then there will have been no danger to anybody but myself--would not that seem to be a very fair proposal? i mean to say that the argument in prospect is likely to be too much for you, out of your depth and beyond your strength, and i should be afraid that the stream of my questions might create in you who are not in the habit of answering, giddiness and confusion of mind, and hence a feeling of unpleasantness and unsuitableness might arise. i think therefore that i had better first ask the questions and then answer them myself while you listen in safety; in that way i can carry on the argument until i have completed the proof that the soul is prior to the body. cleinias: excellent, stranger, and i hope that you will do as you propose. athenian: come, then, and if ever we are to call upon the gods, let us call upon them now in all seriousness to come to the demonstration of their own existence. and so holding fast to the rope we will venture upon the depths of the argument. when questions of this sort are asked of me, my safest answer would appear to be as follows: some one says to me, 'o stranger, are all things at rest and nothing in motion, or is the exact opposite of this true, or are some things in motion and others at rest?' to this i shall reply that some things are in motion and others at rest. 'and do not things which move move in a place, and are not the things which are at rest at rest in a place?' certainly. 'and some move or rest in one place and some in more places than one?' you mean to say, we shall rejoin, that those things which rest at the centre move in one place, just as the circumference goes round of globes which are said to be at rest? 'yes.' and we observe that, in the revolution, the motion which carries round the larger and the lesser circle at the same time is proportionally distributed to greater and smaller, and is greater and smaller in a certain proportion. here is a wonder which might be thought an impossibility, that the same motion should impart swiftness and slowness in due proportion to larger and lesser circles. 'very true.' and when you speak of bodies moving in many places, you seem to me to mean those which move from one place to another, and sometimes have one centre of motion and sometimes more than one because they turn upon their axis; and whenever they meet anything, if it be stationary, they are divided by it; but if they get in the midst between bodies which are approaching and moving towards the same spot from opposite directions, they unite with them. 'i admit the truth of what you are saying.' also when they unite they grow, and when they are divided they waste away--that is, supposing the constitution of each to remain, or if that fails, then there is a second reason of their dissolution. 'and when are all things created and how?' clearly, they are created when the first principle receives increase and attains to the second dimension, and from this arrives at the one which is neighbour to this, and after reaching the third becomes perceptible to sense. everything which is thus changing and moving is in process of generation; only when at rest has it real existence, but when passing into another state it is destroyed utterly. have we not mentioned all motions that there are, and comprehended them under their kinds and numbered them with the exception, my friends, of two? cleinias: which are they? athenian: just the two, with which our present enquiry is concerned. cleinias: speak plainer. athenian: i suppose that our enquiry has reference to the soul? cleinias: very true. athenian: let us assume that there is a motion able to move other things, but not to move itself; that is one kind; and there is another kind which can move itself as well as other things, working in composition and decomposition, by increase and diminution and generation and destruction--that is also one of the many kinds of motion. cleinias: granted. athenian: and we will assume that which moves other, and is changed by other, to be the ninth, and that which changes itself and others, and is coincident with every action and every passion, and is the true principle of change and motion in all that is--that we shall be inclined to call the tenth. cleinias: certainly. athenian: and which of these ten motions ought we to prefer as being the mightiest and most efficient? cleinias: i must say that the motion which is able to move itself is ten thousand times superior to all the others. athenian: very good; but may i make one or two corrections in what i have been saying? cleinias: what are they? athenian: when i spoke of the tenth sort of motion, that was not quite correct. cleinias: what was the error? athenian: according to the true order, the tenth was really the first in generation and power; then follows the second, which was strangely enough termed the ninth by us. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: i mean this: when one thing changes another, and that another, of such will there be any primary changing element? how can a thing which is moved by another ever be the beginning of change? impossible. but when the self-moved changes other, and that again other, and thus thousands upon tens of thousands of bodies are set in motion, must not the beginning of all this motion be the change of the self-moving principle? cleinias: very true, and i quite agree. athenian: or, to put the question in another way, making answer to ourselves: if, as most of these philosophers have the audacity to affirm, all things were at rest in one mass, which of the above-mentioned principles of motion would first spring up among them? cleinias: clearly the self-moving; for there could be no change in them arising out of any external cause; the change must first take place in themselves. athenian: then we must say that self-motion being the origin of all motions, and the first which arises among things at rest as well as among things in motion, is the eldest and mightiest principle of change, and that which is changed by another and yet moves other is second. cleinias: quite true. athenian: at this stage of the argument let us put a question. cleinias: what question? athenian: if we were to see this power existing in any earthy, watery, or fiery substance, simple or compound--how should we describe it? cleinias: you mean to ask whether we should call such a self-moving power life? athenian: i do. cleinias: certainly we should. athenian: and when we see soul in anything, must we not do the same--must we not admit that this is life? cleinias: we must. athenian: and now, i beseech you, reflect--you would admit that we have a threefold knowledge of things? cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: i mean that we know the essence, and that we know the definition of the essence, and the name--these are the three; and there are two questions which may be raised about anything. cleinias: how two? athenian: sometimes a person may give the name and ask the definition; or he may give the definition and ask the name. i may illustrate what i mean in this way. cleinias: how? athenian: number like some other things is capable of being divided into equal parts; when thus divided, number is named 'even,' and the definition of the name 'even' is 'number divisible into two equal parts'? cleinias: true. athenian: i mean, that when we are asked about the definition and give the name, or when we are asked about the name and give the definition--in either case, whether we give name or definition, we speak of the same thing, calling 'even' the number which is divided into two equal parts. cleinias: quite true. athenian: and what is the definition of that which is named 'soul'? can we conceive of any other than that which has been already given--the motion which can move itself? cleinias: you mean to say that the essence which is defined as the self-moved is the same with that which has the name soul? athenian: yes; and if this is true, do we still maintain that there is anything wanting in the proof that the soul is the first origin and moving power of all that is, or has become, or will be, and their contraries, when she has been clearly shown to be the source of change and motion in all things? cleinias: certainly not; the soul as being the source of motion, has been most satisfactorily shown to be the oldest of all things. athenian: and is not that motion which is produced in another, by reason of another, but never has any self-moving power at all, being in truth the change of an inanimate body, to be reckoned second, or by any lower number which you may prefer? cleinias: exactly. athenian: then we are right, and speak the most perfect and absolute truth, when we say that the soul is prior to the body, and that the body is second and comes afterwards, and is born to obey the soul, which is the ruler? cleinias: nothing can be more true. athenian: do you remember our old admission, that if the soul was prior to the body the things of the soul were also prior to those of the body? cleinias: certainly. athenian: then characters and manners, and wishes and reasonings, and true opinions, and reflections, and recollections are prior to length and breadth and depth and strength of bodies, if the soul is prior to the body. cleinias: to be sure. athenian: in the next place, we must not of necessity admit that the soul is the cause of good and evil, base and honourable, just and unjust, and of all other opposites, if we suppose her to be the cause of all things? cleinias: we must. athenian: and as the soul orders and inhabits all things that move, however moving, must we not say that she orders also the heavens? cleinias: of course. athenian: one soul or more? more than one--i will answer for you; at any rate, we must not suppose that there are less than two--one the author of good, and the other of evil. cleinias: very true. athenian: yes, very true; the soul then directs all things in heaven, and earth, and sea by her movements, and these are described by the terms--will, consideration, attention, deliberation, opinion true and false, joy and sorrow, confidence, fear, hatred, love, and other primary motions akin to these; which again receive the secondary motions of corporeal substances, and guide all things to growth and decay, to composition and decomposition, and to the qualities which accompany them, such as heat and cold, heaviness and lightness, hardness and softness, blackness and whiteness, bitterness and sweetness, and all those other qualities which the soul uses, herself a goddess, when truly receiving the divine mind she disciplines all things rightly to their happiness; but when she is the companion of folly, she does the very contrary of all this. shall we assume so much, or do we still entertain doubts? cleinias: there is no room at all for doubt. athenian: shall we say then that it is the soul which controls heaven and earth, and the whole world? that it is a principle of wisdom and virtue, or a principle which has neither wisdom nor virtue? suppose that we make answer as follows: cleinias: how would you answer? athenian: if, my friend, we say that the whole path and movement of heaven, and of all that is therein, is by nature akin to the movement and revolution and calculation of mind, and proceeds by kindred laws, then, as is plain, we must say that the best soul takes care of the world and guides it along the good path. cleinias: true. athenian: but if the world moves wildly and irregularly, then the evil soul guides it. cleinias: true again. athenian: of what nature is the movement of mind? to this question it is not easy to give an intelligent answer; and therefore i ought to assist you in framing one. cleinias: very good. athenian: then let us not answer as if we would look straight at the sun, making ourselves darkness at midday--i mean as if we were under the impression that we could see with mortal eyes, or know adequately the nature of mind--it will be safer to look at the image only. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: let us select of the ten motions the one which mind chiefly resembles; this i will bring to your recollection, and will then make the answer on behalf of us all. cleinias: that will be excellent. athenian: you will surely remember our saying that all things were either at rest or in motion? cleinias: i do. athenian: and that of things in motion some were moving in one place, and others in more than one? cleinias: yes. athenian: of these two kinds of motion, that which moves in one place must move about a centre like globes made in a lathe, and is most entirely akin and similar to the circular movement of mind. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: in saying that both mind and the motion which is in one place move in the same and like manner, in and about the same, and in relation to the same, and according to one proportion and order, and are like the motion of a globe, we invented a fair image, which does no discredit to our ingenuity. cleinias: it does us great credit. athenian: and the motion of the other sort which is not after the same manner, nor in the same, nor about the same, nor in relation to the same, nor in one place, nor in order, nor according to any rule or proportion, may be said to be akin to senselessness and folly? cleinias: that is most true. athenian: then, after what has been said, there is no difficulty in distinctly stating, that since soul carries all things round, either the best soul or the contrary must of necessity carry round and order and arrange the revolution of the heaven. cleinias: and judging from what has been said, stranger, there would be impiety in asserting that any but the most perfect soul or souls carries round the heavens. athenian: you have understood my meaning right well, cleinias, and now let me ask you another question. cleinias: what are you going to ask? athenian: if the soul carries round the sun and moon, and the other stars, does she not carry round each individual of them? cleinias: certainly. athenian: then of one of them let us speak, and the same argument will apply to all. cleinias: which will you take? athenian: every one sees the body of the sun, but no one sees his soul, nor the soul of any other body living or dead; and yet there is great reason to believe that this nature, unperceived by any of our senses, is circumfused around them all, but is perceived by mind; and therefore by mind and reflection only let us apprehend the following point. cleinias: what is that? athenian: if the soul carries round the sun, we shall not be far wrong in supposing one of three alternatives. cleinias: what are they? athenian: either the soul which moves the sun this way and that, resides within the circular and visible body, like the soul which carries us about every way; or the soul provides herself with an external body of fire or air, as some affirm, and violently propels body by body; or thirdly, she is without such a body, but guides the sun by some extraordinary and wonderful power. cleinias: yes, certainly; the soul can only order all things in one of these three ways. athenian: and this soul of the sun, which is therefore better than the sun, whether taking the sun about in a chariot to give light to men, or acting from without, or in whatever way, ought by every man to be deemed a god. cleinias: yes, by every man who has the least particle of sense. athenian: and of the stars too, and of the moon, and of the years and months and seasons, must we not say in like manner, that since a soul or souls having every sort of excellence are the causes of all of them, those souls are gods, whether they are living beings and reside in bodies, and in this way order the whole heaven, or whatever be the place and mode of their existence--and will any one who admits all this venture to deny that all things are full of gods? cleinias: no one, stranger, would be such a madman. athenian: and now, megillus and cleinias, let us offer terms to him who has hitherto denied the existence of the gods, and leave him. cleinias: what terms? athenian: either he shall teach us that we were wrong in saying that the soul is the original of all things, and arguing accordingly; or, if he be not able to say anything better, then he must yield to us and live for the remainder of his life in the belief that there are gods. let us see, then, whether we have said enough or not enough to those who deny that there are gods. cleinias: certainly, quite enough, stranger. athenian: then to them we will say no more. and now we are to address him who, believing that there are gods, believes also that they take no heed of human affairs: to him we say--o thou best of men, in believing that there are gods you are led by some affinity to them, which attracts you towards your kindred and makes you honour and believe in them. but the fortunes of evil and unrighteous men in private as well as public life, which, though not really happy, are wrongly counted happy in the judgment of men, and are celebrated both by poets and prose writers--these draw you aside from your natural piety. perhaps you have seen impious men growing old and leaving their children's children in high offices, and their prosperity shakes your faith--you have known or heard or been yourself an eyewitness of many monstrous impieties, and have beheld men by such criminal means from small beginnings attaining to sovereignty and the pinnacle of greatness; and considering all these things you do not like to accuse the gods of them, because they are your relatives; and so from some want of reasoning power, and also from an unwillingness to find fault with them, you have come to believe that they exist indeed, but have no thought or care of human things. now, that your present evil opinion may not grow to still greater impiety, and that we may if possible use arguments which may conjure away the evil before it arrives, we will add another argument to that originally addressed to him who utterly denied the existence of the gods. and do you, megillus and cleinias, answer for the young man as you did before; and if any impediment comes in our way, i will take the word out of your mouths, and carry you over the river as i did just now. cleinias: very good; do as you say, and we will help you as well as we can. athenian: there will probably be no difficulty in proving to him that the gods care about the small as well as about the great. for he was present and heard what was said, that they are perfectly good, and that the care of all things is most entirely natural to them. cleinias: no doubt he heard that. athenian: let us consider together in the next place what we mean by this virtue which we ascribe to them. surely we should say that to be temperate and to possess mind belongs to virtue, and the contrary to vice? cleinias: certainly. athenian: yes; and courage is a part of virtue, and cowardice of vice? cleinias: true. athenian: and the one is honourable, and the other dishonourable? cleinias: to be sure. athenian: and the one, like other meaner things, is a human quality, but the gods have no part in anything of the sort? cleinias: that again is what everybody will admit. athenian: but do we imagine carelessness and idleness and luxury to be virtues? what do you think? cleinias: decidedly not. athenian: they rank under the opposite class? cleinias: yes. athenian: and their opposites, therefore, would fall under the opposite class? cleinias: yes. athenian: but are we to suppose that one who possesses all these good qualities will be luxurious and heedless and idle, like those whom the poet compares to stingless drones? cleinias: and the comparison is a most just one. athenian: surely god must not be supposed to have a nature which he himself hates? he who dares to say this sort of thing must not be tolerated for a moment. cleinias: of course not. how could he have? athenian: should we not on any principle be entirely mistaken in praising any one who has some special business entrusted to him, if he have a mind which takes care of great matters and no care of small ones? reflect; he who acts in this way, whether he be god or man, must act from one of two principles. cleinias: what are they? athenian: either he must think that the neglect of the small matters is of no consequence to the whole, or if he knows that they are of consequence, and he neglects them, his neglect must be attributed to carelessness and indolence. is there any other way in which his neglect can be explained? for surely, when it is impossible for him to take care of all, he is not negligent if he fails to attend to these things great or small, which a god or some inferior being might be wanting in strength or capacity to manage? cleinias: certainly not. athenian: now, then, let us examine the offenders, who both alike confess that there are gods, but with a difference--the one saying that they may be appeased, and the other that they have no care of small matters: there are three of us and two of them, and we will say to them--in the first place, you both acknowledge that the gods hear and see and know all things, and that nothing can escape them which is matter of sense and knowledge: do you admit this? cleinias: yes. athenian: and do you admit also that they have all power which mortals and immortals can have? cleinias: they will, of course, admit this also. athenian: and surely we three and they two--five in all--have acknowledged that they are good and perfect? cleinias: assuredly. athenian: but, if they are such as we conceive them to be, can we possibly suppose that they ever act in the spirit of carelessness and indolence? for in us inactivity is the child of cowardice, and carelessness of inactivity and indolence. cleinias: most true. athenian: then not from inactivity and carelessness is any god ever negligent; for there is no cowardice in them. cleinias: that is very true. athenian: then the alternative which remains is, that if the gods neglect the lighter and lesser concerns of the universe, they neglect them because they know that they ought not to care about such matters--what other alternative is there but the opposite of their knowing? cleinias: there is none. athenian: and, o most excellent and best of men, do i understand you to mean that they are careless because they are ignorant, and do not know that they ought to take care, or that they know, and yet like the meanest sort of men, knowing the better, choose the worse because they are overcome by pleasures and pains? cleinias: impossible. athenian: do not all human things partake of the nature of soul? and is not man the most religious of all animals? cleinias: that is not to be denied. athenian: and we acknowledge that all mortal creatures are the property of the gods, to whom also the whole of heaven belongs? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and, therefore, whether a person says that these things are to the gods great or small--in either case it would not be natural for the gods who own us, and who are the most careful and the best of owners, to neglect us. there is also a further consideration. cleinias: what is it? athenian: sensation and power are in an inverse ratio to each other in respect to their ease and difficulty. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: i mean that there is greater difficulty in seeing and hearing the small than the great, but more facility in moving and controlling and taking care of small and unimportant things than of their opposites. cleinias: far more. athenian: suppose the case of a physician who is willing and able to cure some living thing as a whole--how will the whole fare at his hands if he takes care only of the greater and neglects the parts which are lesser? cleinias: decidedly not well. athenian: no better would be the result with pilots or generals, or householders or statesmen, or any other such class, if they neglected the small and regarded only the great--as the builders say, the larger stones do not lie well without the lesser. cleinias: of course not. athenian: let us not, then, deem god inferior to human workmen, who, in proportion to their skill, finish and perfect their works, small as well as great, by one and the same art; or that god, the wisest of beings, who is both willing and able to take care, is like a lazy good-for-nothing, or a coward, who turns his back upon labour and gives no thought to smaller and easier matters, but to the greater only. cleinias: never, stranger, let us admit a supposition about the gods which is both impious and false. athenian: i think that we have now argued enough with him who delights to accuse the gods of neglect. cleinias: yes. athenian: he has been forced to acknowledge that he is in error, but he still seems to me to need some words of consolation. cleinias: what consolation will you offer him? athenian: let us say to the youth: the ruler of the universe has ordered all things with a view to the excellence and preservation of the whole, and each part, as far as may be, has an action and passion appropriate to it. over these, down to the least fraction of them, ministers have been appointed to preside, who have wrought out their perfection with infinitesimal exactness. and one of these portions of the universe is thine own, unhappy man, which, however little, contributes to the whole; and you do not seem to be aware that this and every other creation is for the sake of the whole, and in order that the life of the whole may be blessed; and that you are created for the sake of the whole, and not the whole for the sake of you. for every physician and every skilled artist does all things for the sake of the whole, directing his effort towards the common good, executing the part for the sake of the whole, and not the whole for the sake of the part. and you are annoyed because you are ignorant how what is best for you happens to you and to the universe, as far as the laws of the common creation admit. now, as the soul combining first with one body and then with another undergoes all sorts of changes, either of herself, or through the influence of another soul, all that remains to the player of the game is that he should shift the pieces; sending the better nature to the better place, and the worse to the worse, and so assigning to them their proper portion. cleinias: in what way do you mean? athenian: in a way which may be supposed to make the care of all things easy to the gods. if any one were to form or fashion all things without any regard to the whole--if, for example, he formed a living element of water out of fire, instead of forming many things out of one or one out of many in regular order attaining to a first or second or third birth, the transmutation would have been infinite; but now the ruler of the world has a wonderfully easy task. cleinias: how so? athenian: i will explain: when the king saw that our actions had life, and that there was much virtue in them and much vice, and that the soul and body, although not, like the gods of popular opinion, eternal, yet having once come into existence, were indestructible (for if either of them had been destroyed, there would have been no generation of living beings); and when he observed that the good of the soul was ever by nature designed to profit men, and the evil to harm them--he, seeing all this, contrived so to place each of the parts that their position might in the easiest and best manner procure the victory of good and the defeat of evil in the whole. and he contrived a general plan by which a thing of a certain nature found a certain seat and room. but the formation of qualities he left to the wills of individuals. for every one of us is made pretty much what he is by the bent of his desires and the nature of his soul. cleinias: yes, that is probably true. athenian: then all things which have a soul change, and possess in themselves a principle of change, and in changing move according to law and to the order of destiny: natures which have undergone a lesser change move less and on the earth's surface, but those which have suffered more change and have become more criminal sink into the abyss, that is to say, into hades and other places in the world below, of which the very names terrify men, and which they picture to themselves as in a dream, both while alive and when released from the body. and whenever the soul receives more of good or evil from her own energy and the strong influence of others--when she has communion with divine virtue and becomes divine, she is carried into another and better place, which is perfect in holiness; but when she has communion with evil, then she also changes the place of her life. 'this is the justice of the gods who inhabit olympus.' o youth or young man, who fancy that you are neglected by the gods, know that if you become worse you shall go to the worse souls, or if better to the better, and in every succession of life and death you will do and suffer what like may fitly suffer at the hands of like. this is the justice of heaven, which neither you nor any other unfortunate will ever glory in escaping, and which the ordaining powers have specially ordained; take good heed thereof, for it will be sure to take heed of you. if you say: i am small and will creep into the depths of the earth, or i am high and will fly up to heaven, you are not so small or so high but that you shall pay the fitting penalty, either here or in the world below or in some still more savage place whither you shall be conveyed. this is also the explanation of the fate of those whom you saw, who had done unholy and evil deeds, and from small beginnings had grown great, and you fancied that from being miserable they had become happy; and in their actions, as in a mirror, you seemed to see the universal neglect of the gods, not knowing how they make all things work together and contribute to the great whole. and thinkest thou, bold man, that thou needest not to know this? he who knows it not can never form any true idea of the happiness or unhappiness of life or hold any rational discourse respecting either. if cleinias and this our reverend company succeed in proving to you that you know not what you say of the gods, then will god help you; but should you desire to hear more, listen to what we say to the third opponent, if you have any understanding whatsoever. for i think that we have sufficiently proved the existence of the gods, and that they care for men: the other notion that they are appeased by the wicked, and take gifts, is what we must not concede to any one, and what every man should disprove to the utmost of his power. cleinias: very good; let us do as you say. athenian: well, then, by the gods themselves i conjure you to tell me--if they are to be propitiated, how are they to be propitiated? who are they, and what is their nature? must they not be at least rulers who have to order unceasingly the whole heaven? cleinias: true. athenian: and to what earthly rulers can they be compared, or who to them? how in the less can we find an image of the greater? are they charioteers of contending pairs of steeds, or pilots of vessels? perhaps they might be compared to the generals of armies, or they might be likened to physicians providing against the diseases which make war upon the body, or to husbandmen observing anxiously the effects of the seasons on the growth of plants; or perhaps to shepherds of flocks. for as we acknowledge the world to be full of many goods and also of evils, and of more evils than goods, there is, as we affirm, an immortal conflict going on among us, which requires marvellous watchfulness; and in that conflict the gods and demigods are our allies, and we are their property. injustice and insolence and folly are the destruction of us, and justice and temperance and wisdom are our salvation; and the place of these latter is in the life of the gods, although some vestige of them may occasionally be discerned among mankind. but upon this earth we know that there dwell souls possessing an unjust spirit, who may be compared to brute animals, which fawn upon their keepers, whether dogs or shepherds, or the best and most perfect masters; for they in like manner, as the voices of the wicked declare, prevail by flattery and prayers and incantations, and are allowed to make their gains with impunity. and this sin, which is termed dishonesty, is an evil of the same kind as what is termed disease in living bodies or pestilence in years or seasons of the year, and in cities and governments has another name, which is injustice. cleinias: quite true. athenian: what else can he say who declares that the gods are always lenient to the doers of unjust acts, if they divide the spoil with them? as if wolves were to toss a portion of their prey to the dogs, and they, mollified by the gift, suffered them to tear the flocks. must not he who maintains that the gods can be propitiated argue thus? cleinias: precisely so. athenian: and to which of the above-mentioned classes of guardians would any man compare the gods without absurdity? will he say that they are like pilots, who are themselves turned away from their duty by 'libations of wine and the savour of fat,' and at last overturn both ship and sailors? cleinias: assuredly not. athenian: and surely they are not like charioteers who are bribed to give up the victory to other chariots? cleinias: that would be a fearful image of the gods. athenian: nor are they like generals, or physicians, or husbandmen, or shepherds; and no one would compare them to dogs who have been silenced by wolves. cleinias: a thing not to be spoken of. athenian: and are not all the gods the chiefest of all guardians, and do they not guard our highest interests? cleinias: yes; the chiefest. athenian: and shall we say that those who guard our noblest interests, and are the best of guardians, are inferior in virtue to dogs, and to men even of moderate excellence, who would never betray justice for the sake of gifts which unjust men impiously offer them? cleinias: certainly not; nor is such a notion to be endured, and he who holds this opinion may be fairly singled out and characterized as of all impious men the wickedest and most impious. athenian: then are the three assertions--that the gods exist, and that they take care of men, and that they can never be persuaded to do injustice, now sufficiently demonstrated? may we say that they are? cleinias: you have our entire assent to your words. athenian: i have spoken with vehemence because i am zealous against evil men; and i will tell you, dear cleinias, why i am so. i would not have the wicked think that, having the superiority in argument, they may do as they please and act according to their various imaginations about the gods; and this zeal has led me to speak too vehemently; but if we have at all succeeded in persuading the men to hate themselves and love their opposites, the prelude of our laws about impiety will not have been spoken in vain. cleinias: so let us hope; and even if we have failed, the style of our argument will not discredit the lawgiver. athenian: after the prelude shall follow a discourse, which will be the interpreter of the law; this shall proclaim to all impious persons that they must depart from their ways and go over to the pious. and to those who disobey, let the law about impiety be as follows: if a man is guilty of any impiety in word or deed, any one who happens to be present shall give information to the magistrates, in aid of the law; and let the magistrates who first receive the information bring him before the appointed court according to the law; and if a magistrate, after receiving information, refuses to act, he shall be tried for impiety at the instance of any one who is willing to vindicate the laws; and if any one be cast, the court shall estimate the punishment of each act of impiety; and let all such criminals be imprisoned. there shall be three prisons in the state: the first of them is to be the common prison in the neighbourhood of the agora for the safe-keeping of the generality of offenders; another is to be in the neighbourhood of the nocturnal council, and is to be called the 'house of reformation'; another, to be situated in some wild and desolate region in the centre of the country, shall be called by some name expressive of retribution. now, men fall into impiety from three causes, which have been already mentioned, and from each of these causes arise two sorts of impiety, in all six, which are worth distinguishing, and should not all have the same punishment. for he who does not believe in the gods, and yet has a righteous nature, hates the wicked and dislikes and refuses to do injustice, and avoids unrighteous men, and loves the righteous. but they who besides believing that the world is devoid of gods are intemperate, and have at the same time good memories and quick wits, are worse; although both of them are unbelievers, much less injury is done by the one than by the other. the one may talk loosely about the gods and about sacrifices and oaths, and perhaps by laughing at other men he may make them like himself, if he be not punished. but the other who holds the same opinions and is called a clever man, is full of stratagem and deceit--men of this class deal in prophecy and jugglery of all kinds, and out of their ranks sometimes come tyrants and demagogues and generals and hierophants of private mysteries and the sophists, as they are termed, with their ingenious devices. there are many kinds of unbelievers, but two only for whom legislation is required; one the hypocritical sort, whose crime is deserving of death many times over, while the other needs only bonds and admonition. in like manner also the notion that the gods take no thought of men produces two other sorts of crimes, and the notion that they may be propitiated produces two more. assuming these divisions, let those who have been made what they are only from want of understanding, and not from malice or an evil nature, be placed by the judge in the house of reformation, and ordered to suffer imprisonment during a period of not less than five years. and in the meantime let them have no intercourse with the other citizens, except with members of the nocturnal council, and with them let them converse with a view to the improvement of their soul's health. and when the time of their imprisonment has expired, if any of them be of sound mind let him be restored to sane company, but if not, and if he be condemned a second time, let him be punished with death. as to that class of monstrous natures who not only believe that there are no gods, or that they are negligent, or to be propitiated, but in contempt of mankind conjure the souls of the living and say that they can conjure the dead and promise to charm the gods with sacrifices and prayers, and will utterly overthrow individuals and whole houses and states for the sake of money--let him who is guilty of any of these things be condemned by the court to be bound according to law in the prison which is in the centre of the land, and let no freeman ever approach him, but let him receive the rations of food appointed by the guardians of the law from the hands of the public slaves; and when he is dead let him be cast beyond the borders unburied, and if any freeman assist in burying him, let him pay the penalty of impiety to any one who is willing to bring a suit against him. but if he leaves behind him children who are fit to be citizens, let the guardians of orphans take care of them, just as they would of any other orphans, from the day on which their father is convicted. in all these cases there should be one law, which will make men in general less liable to transgress in word or deed, and less foolish, because they will not be allowed to practise religious rites contrary to law. and let this be the simple form of the law: no man shall have sacred rites in a private house. when he would sacrifice, let him go to the temples and hand over his offerings to the priests and priestesses, who see to the sanctity of such things, and let him pray himself, and let any one who pleases join with him in prayer. the reason of this is as follows: gods and temples are not easily instituted, and to establish them rightly is the work of a mighty intellect. and women especially, and men too, when they are sick or in danger, or in any sort of difficulty, or again on their receiving any good fortune, have a way of consecrating the occasion, vowing sacrifices, and promising shrines to gods, demigods, and sons of gods; and when they are awakened by terrible apparitions and dreams or remember visions, they find in altars and temples the remedies of them, and will fill every house and village with them, placing them in the open air, or wherever they may have had such visions; and with a view to all these cases we should obey the law. the law has also regard to the impious, and would not have them fancy that by the secret performance of these actions--by raising temples and by building altars in private houses, they can propitiate the god secretly with sacrifices and prayers, while they are really multiplying their crimes infinitely, bringing guilt from heaven upon themselves, and also upon those who permit them, and who are better men than they are; and the consequence is that the whole state reaps the fruit of their impiety, which, in a certain sense, is deserved. assuredly god will not blame the legislator, who will enact the following law: no one shall possess shrines of the gods in private houses, and he who is found to possess them, and perform any sacred rites not publicly authorised--supposing the offender to be some man or woman who is not guilty of any other great and impious crime--shall be informed against by him who is acquainted with the fact, which shall be announced by him to the guardians of the law; and let them issue orders that he or she shall carry away their private rites to the public temples, and if they do not persuade them, let them inflict a penalty on them until they comply. and if a person be proven guilty of impiety, not merely from childish levity, but such as grown-up men may be guilty of, whether he have sacrificed publicly or privately to any gods, let him be punished with death, for his sacrifice is impure. whether the deed has been done in earnest, or only from childish levity, let the guardians of the law determine, before they bring the matter into court and prosecute the offender for impiety. book xi. in the next place, dealings between man and man require to be suitably regulated. the principle of them is very simple: thou shalt not, if thou canst help, touch that which is mine, or remove the least thing which belongs to me without my consent; and may i be of a sound mind, and do to others as i would that they should do to me. first, let us speak of treasure-trove: may i never pray the gods to find the hidden treasure, which another has laid up for himself and his family, he not being one of my ancestors, nor lift, if i should find, such a treasure. and may i never have any dealings with those who are called diviners, and who in any way or manner counsel me to take up the deposit entrusted to the earth, for i should not gain so much in the increase of my possessions, if i take up the prize, as i should grow in justice and virtue of soul, if i abstain; and this will be a better possession to me than the other in a better part of myself; for the possession of justice in the soul is preferable to the possession of wealth. and of many things it is well said--'move not the immovables,' and this may be regarded as one of them. and we shall do well to believe the common tradition which says, that such deeds prevent a man from having a family. now as to him who is careless about having children and regardless of the legislator, taking up that which neither he deposited, nor any ancestor of his, without the consent of the depositor, violating the simplest and noblest of laws which was the enactment of no mean man: 'take not up that which was not laid down by thee'--of him, i say, who despises these two legislators, and takes up, not some small matter which he has not deposited, but perhaps a great heap of treasure, what he ought to suffer at the hands of the gods, god only knows; but i would have the first person who sees him go and tell the wardens of the city, if the occurrence has taken place in the city, or if the occurrence has taken place in the agora he shall tell the wardens of the agora, or if in the country he shall tell the wardens of the country and their commanders. when information has been received the city shall send to delphi, and, whatever the god answers about the money and the remover of the money, that the city shall do in obedience to the oracle; the informer, if he be a freeman, shall have the honour of doing rightly, and he who informs not, the dishonour of doing wrongly; and if he be a slave who gives information, let him be freed, as he ought to be, by the state, which shall give his master the price of him; but if he do not inform he shall be punished with death. next in order shall follow a similar law, which shall apply equally to matters great and small: if a man happens to leave behind him some part of his property, whether intentionally or unintentionally, let him who may come upon the left property suffer it to remain, reflecting that such things are under the protection of the goddess of ways, and are dedicated to her by the law. but if any one defies the law, and takes the property home with him, let him, if the thing is of little worth, and the man who takes it a slave, be beaten with many stripes by him who meets him, being a person of not less than thirty years of age. or if he be a freeman, in addition to being thought a mean person and a despiser of the laws, let him pay ten times the value of the treasure which he has moved to the leaver. and if some one accuses another of having anything which belongs to him, whether little or much, and the other admits that he has this thing, but denies that the property in dispute belongs to the other, if the property be registered with the magistrates according to law, the claimant shall summon the possessor, who shall bring it before the magistrates; and when it is brought into court, if it be registered in the public registers, to which of the litigants it belonged, let him take it and go his way. or if the property be registered as belonging to some one who is not present, whoever will offer sufficient surety on behalf of the absent person that he will give it up to him, shall take it away as the representative of the other. but if the property which is deposited be not registered with the magistrates, let it remain until the time of trial with three of the eldest of the magistrates; and if it be an animal which is deposited, then he who loses the suit shall pay the magistrates for its keep, and they shall determine the cause within three days. any one who is of sound mind may arrest his own slave, and do with him whatever he will of such things as are lawful; and he may arrest the runaway slave of any of his friends or kindred with a view to his safe-keeping. and if any one takes away him who is being carried off as a slave, intending to liberate him, he who is carrying him off shall let him go; but he who takes him away shall give three sufficient sureties; and if he give them, and not without giving them, he may take him away, but if he take him away after any other manner he shall be deemed guilty of violence, and being convicted shall pay as a penalty double the amount of the damages claimed to him who has been deprived of the slave. any man may also carry off a freedman, if he do not pay respect or sufficient respect to him who freed him. now the respect shall be, that the freedman go three times in the month to the hearth of the person who freed him, and offer to do whatever he ought, so far as he can; and he shall agree to make such a marriage as his former master approves. he shall not be permitted to have more property than he who gave him liberty, and what more he has shall belong to his master. the freedman shall not remain in the state more than twenty years, but like other foreigners shall go away, taking his entire property with him, unless he has the consent of the magistrates and of his former master to remain. if a freedman or any other stranger has a property greater than the census of the third class, at the expiration of thirty days from the day on which this comes to pass, he shall take that which is his and go his way, and in this case he shall not be allowed to remain any longer by the magistrates. and if any one disobeys this regulation, and is brought into court and convicted, he shall be punished with death, and his property shall be confiscated. suits about these matters shall take place before the tribes, unless the plaintiff and defendant have got rid of the accusation either before their neighbours or before judges chosen by them. if a man lay claim to any animal or anything else which he declares to be his, let the possessor refer to the seller or to some honest and trustworthy person, who has given, or in some legitimate way made over the property to him; if he be a citizen or a metic, sojourning in the city, within thirty days, or, if the property have been delivered to him by a stranger, within five months, of which the middle month shall include the summer solstice. when goods are exchanged by selling and buying, a man shall deliver them, and receive the price of them, at a fixed place in the agora, and have done with the matter; but he shall not buy or sell anywhere else, nor give credit. and if in any other manner or in any other place there be an exchange of one thing for another, and the seller give credit to the man who buys from him, he must do this on the understanding that the law gives no protection in cases of things sold not in accordance with these regulations. again, as to contributions, any man who likes may go about collecting contributions as a friend among friends, but if any difference arises about the collection, he is to act on the understanding that the law gives no protection in such cases. he who sells anything above the value of fifty drachmas shall be required to remain in the city for ten days, and the purchaser shall be informed of the house of the seller, with a view to the sort of charges which are apt to arise in such cases, and the restitutions which the law allows. and let legal restitution be on this wise: if a man sells a slave who is in a consumption, or who has the disease of the stone, or of strangury, or epilepsy, or some other tedious and incurable disorder of body or mind, which is not discernible to the ordinary man, if the purchaser be a physician or trainer, he shall have no right of restitution; nor shall there be any right of restitution if the seller has told the truth beforehand to the buyer. but if a skilled person sells to another who is not skilled, let the buyer appeal for restitution within six months, except in the case of epilepsy, and then the appeal may be made within a year. the cause shall be determined by such physicians as the parties may agree to choose; and the defendant, if he lose the suit, shall pay double the price at which he sold. if a private person sell to another private person, he shall have the right of restitution, and the decision shall be given as before, but the defendant, if he be cast, shall only pay back the price of the slave. if a person sells a homicide to another, and they both know of the fact, let there be no restitution in such a case, but if he do not know of the fact, there shall be a right of restitution, whenever the buyer makes the discovery; and the decision shall rest with the five youngest guardians of the law, and if the decision be that the seller was cognisant of the fact, he shall purify the house of the purchaser, according to the law of the interpreters, and shall pay back three times the purchase-money. if a man exchanges either money for money, or anything whatever for anything else, either with or without life, let him give and receive them genuine and unadulterated, in accordance with the law. and let us have a prelude about all this sort of roguery, like the preludes of our other laws. every man should regard adulteration as of one and the same class with falsehood and deceit, concerning which the many are too fond of saying that at proper times and places the practice may often be right. but they leave the occasion, and the when, and the where, undefined and unsettled, and from this want of definiteness in their language they do a great deal of harm to themselves and to others. now a legislator ought not to leave the matter undetermined; he ought to prescribe some limit, either greater or less. let this be the rule prescribed: no one shall call the gods to witness, when he says or does anything false or deceitful or dishonest, unless he would be the most hateful of mankind to them. and he is most hateful to them who takes a false oath, and pays no heed to the gods; and in the next degree, he who tells a falsehood in the presence of his superiors. now better men are the superiors of worse men, and in general elders are the superiors of the young; wherefore also parents are the superiors of their offspring, and men of women and children, and rulers of their subjects; for all men ought to reverence any one who is in any position of authority, and especially those who are in state offices. and this is the reason why i have spoken of these matters. for every one who is guilty of adulteration in the agora tells a falsehood, and deceives, and when he invokes the gods, according to the customs and cautions of the wardens of the agora, he does but swear without any respect for god or man. certainly, it is an excellent rule not lightly to defile the names of the gods, after the fashion of men in general, who care little about piety and purity in their religious actions. but if a man will not conform to this rule, let the law be as follows: he who sells anything in the agora shall not ask two prices for that which he sells, but he shall ask one price, and if he do not obtain this, he shall take away his goods; and on that day he shall not value them either at more or less; and there shall be no praising of any goods, or oath taken about them. if a person disobeys this command, any citizen who is present, not being less than thirty years of age, may with impunity chastise and beat the swearer, but if instead of obeying the laws he takes no heed, he shall be liable to the charge of having betrayed them. if a man sells any adulterated goods and will not obey these regulations, he who knows and can prove the fact, and does prove it in the presence of the magistrates, if he be a slave or a metic, shall have the adulterated goods; but if he be a citizen, and do not pursue the charge, he shall be called a rogue, and deemed to have robbed the gods of the agora; or if he proves the charge, he shall dedicate the goods to the gods of the agora. he who is proved to have sold any adulterated goods, in addition to losing the goods themselves, shall be beaten with stripes--a stripe for a drachma, according to the price of the goods; and the herald shall proclaim in the agora the offence for which he is going to be beaten. the wardens of the agora and the guardians of the law shall obtain information from experienced persons about the rogueries and adulterations of the sellers, and shall write up what the seller ought and ought not to do in each case; and let them inscribe their laws on a column in front of the court of the wardens of the agora, that they may be clear instructors of those who have business in the agora. enough has been said in what has preceded about the wardens of the city, and if anything seems to be wanting, let them communicate with the guardians of the law, and write down the omission, and place on a column in the court of the wardens of the city the primary and secondary regulations which are laid down for them about their office. after the practices of adulteration naturally follow the practices of retail trade. concerning these, we will first of all give a word of counsel and reason, and the law shall come afterwards. retail trade in a city is not by nature intended to do any harm, but quite the contrary; for is not he a benefactor who reduces the inequalities and incommensurabilities of goods to equality and common measure? and this is what the power of money accomplishes, and the merchant may be said to be appointed for this purpose. the hireling and the tavern-keeper, and many other occupations, some of them more and others less seemly--all alike have this object--they seek to satisfy our needs and equalize our possessions. let us then endeavour to see what has brought retail trade into ill-odour, and wherein lies the dishonour and unseemliness of it, in order that if not entirely, we may yet partially, cure the evil by legislation. to effect this is no easy matter, and requires a great deal of virtue. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: dear cleinias, the class of men is small--they must have been rarely gifted by nature, and trained by education--who, when assailed by wants and desires, are able to hold out and observe moderation, and when they might make a great deal of money are sober in their wishes, and prefer a moderate to a large gain. but the mass of mankind are the very opposite: their desires are unbounded, and when they might gain in moderation they prefer gains without limit; wherefore all that relates to retail trade, and merchandise, and the keeping of taverns, is denounced and numbered among dishonourable things. for if what i trust may never be and will not be, we were to compel, if i may venture to say a ridiculous thing, the best men everywhere to keep taverns for a time, or carry on retail trade, or do anything of that sort; or if, in consequence of some fate or necessity, the best women were compelled to follow similar callings, then we should know how agreeable and pleasant all these things are; and if all such occupations were managed on incorrupt principles, they would be honoured as we honour a mother or a nurse. but now that a man goes to desert places and builds houses which can only be reached by long journeys, for the sake of retail trade, and receives strangers who are in need at the welcome resting-place, and gives them peace and calm when they are tossed by the storm, or cool shade in the heat; and then instead of behaving to them as friends, and showing the duties of hospitality to his guests, treats them as enemies and captives who are at his mercy, and will not release them until they have paid the most unjust, abominable, and extortionate ransom--these are the sort of practises, and foul evils they are, which cast a reproach upon the succour of adversity. and the legislator ought always to be devising a remedy for evils of this nature. there is an ancient saying, which is also a true one--'to fight against two opponents is a difficult thing,' as is seen in diseases and in many other cases. and in this case also the war is against two enemies--wealth and poverty; one of whom corrupts the soul of man with luxury, while the other drives him by pain into utter shamelessness. what remedy can a city of sense find against this disease? in the first place, they must have as few retail traders as possible; and in the second place, they must assign the occupation to that class of men whose corruption will be the least injury to the state; and in the third place, they must devise some way whereby the followers of these occupations themselves will not readily fall into habits of unbridled shamelessness and meanness. after this preface let our law run as follows, and may fortune favour us: no landowner among the magnetes, whose city the god is restoring and resettling--no one, that is, of the families, shall become a retail trader either voluntarily or involuntarily; neither shall he be a merchant, or do any service for private persons unless they equally serve him, except for his father or his mother, and their fathers and mothers; and in general for his elders who are freemen, and whom he serves as a freeman. now it is difficult to determine accurately the things which are worthy or unworthy of a freeman, but let those who have obtained the prize of virtue give judgment about them in accordance with their feelings of right and wrong. he who in any way shares in the illiberality of retail trades may be indicted for dishonouring his race by any one who likes, before those who have been judged to be the first in virtue; and if he appear to throw dirt upon his father's house by an unworthy occupation, let him be imprisoned for a year and abstain from that sort of thing; and if he repeat the offence, for two years; and every time that he is convicted let the length of his imprisonment be doubled. this shall be the second law: he who engages in retail trade must be either a metic or a stranger. and a third law shall be: in order that the retail trader who dwells in our city may be as good or as little bad as possible, the guardians of the law shall remember that they are not only guardians of those who may be easily watched and prevented from becoming lawless or bad, because they are well-born and bred; but still more should they have a watch over those who are of another sort, and follow pursuits which have a very strong tendency to make men bad. and, therefore, in respect of the multifarious occupations of retail trade, that is to say, in respect of such of them as are allowed to remain, because they seem to be quite necessary in a state--about these the guardians of the law should meet and take counsel with those who have experience of the several kinds of retail trade, as we before commanded concerning adulteration (which is a matter akin to this), and when they meet they shall consider what amount of receipts, after deducting expenses, will produce a moderate gain to the retail trades, and they shall fix in writing and strictly maintain what they find to be the right percentage of profit; this shall be seen to by the wardens of the agora, and by the wardens of the city, and by the wardens of the country. and so retail trade will benefit every one, and do the least possible injury to those in the state who practise it. when a man makes an agreement which he does not fulfil, unless the agreement be of a nature which the law or a vote of the assembly does not allow, or which he has made under the influence of some unjust compulsion, or which he is prevented from fulfilling against his will by some unexpected chance, the other party may go to law with him in the courts of the tribes, for not having completed his agreement, if the parties are not able previously to come to terms before arbiters or before their neighbours. the class of craftsmen who have furnished human life with the arts is dedicated to hephaestus and athene; and there is a class of craftsmen who preserve the works of all craftsmen by arts of defence, the votaries of ares and athene, to which divinities they too are rightly dedicated. all these continue through life serving the country and the people; some of them are leaders in battle; others make for hire implements and works, and they ought not to deceive in such matters, out of respect to the gods who are their ancestors. if any craftsman through indolence omit to execute his work in a given time, not reverencing the god who gives him the means of life, but considering, foolish fellow, that he is his own god and will let him off easily, in the first place, he shall suffer at the hands of the god, and in the second place, the law shall follow in a similar spirit. he shall owe to him who contracted with him the price of the works which he has failed in performing, and he shall begin again and execute them gratis in the given time. when a man undertakes a work, the law gives him the same advice which was given to the seller, that he should not attempt to raise the price, but simply ask the value; this the law enjoins also on the contractor; for the craftsman assuredly knows the value of his work. wherefore, in free states the man of art ought not to attempt to impose upon private individuals by the help of his art, which is by nature a true thing; and he who is wronged in a matter of this sort, shall have a right of action against the party who has wronged him. and if any one lets out work to a craftsman, and does not pay him duly according to the lawful agreement, disregarding zeus the guardian of the city and athene, who are the partners of the state, and overthrows the foundations of society for the sake of a little gain, in his case let the law and the gods maintain the common bonds of the state. and let him who, having already received the work in exchange, does not pay the price in the time agreed, pay double the price; and if a year has elapsed, although interest is not to be taken on loans, yet for every drachma which he owes to the contractor let him pay a monthly interest of an obol. suits about these matters are to be decided by the courts of the tribes; and by the way, since we have mentioned craftsmen at all, we must not forget that other craft of war, in which generals and tacticians are the craftsmen, who undertake voluntarily or involuntarily the work of our safety, as other craftsmen undertake other public works--if they execute their work well the law will never tire of praising him who gives them those honours which are the just rewards of the soldier; but if any one, having already received the benefit of any noble service in war, does not make the due return of honour, the law will blame him. let this then be the law, having an ingredient of praise, not compelling but advising the great body of the citizens to honour the brave men who are the saviours of the whole state, whether by their courage or by their military skill--they should honour them, i say, in the second place; for the first and highest tribute of respect is to be given to those who are able above other men to honour the words of good legislators. the greater part of the dealings between man and man have been now regulated by us with the exception of those that relate to orphans and the supervision of orphans by their guardians. these follow next in order, and must be regulated in some way. but to arrive at them we must begin with the testamentary wishes of the dying and the case of those who may have happened to die intestate. when i said, cleinias, that we must regulate them, i had in my mind the difficulty and perplexity in which all such matters are involved. you cannot leave them unregulated, for individuals would make regulations at variance with one another, and repugnant to the laws and habits of the living and to their own previous habits, if a person were simply allowed to make any will which he pleased, and this were to take effect in whatever state he may have been at the end of his life; for most of us lose our senses in a manner, and feel crushed when we think that we are about to die. cleinias: what do you mean, stranger? athenian: o cleinias, a man when he is about to die is an intractable creature, and is apt to use language which causes a great deal of anxiety and trouble to the legislator. cleinias: in what way? athenian: he wants to have the entire control of all his property, and will use angry words. cleinias: such as what? athenian: o ye gods, he will say, how monstrous that i am not allowed to give, or not to give, my own to whom i will--less to him who has been bad to me, and more to him who has been good to me, and whose badness and goodness have been tested by me in time of sickness or in old age and in every other sort of fortune! cleinias: well, stranger, and may he not very fairly say so? athenian: in my opinion, cleinias, the ancient legislators were too good-natured, and made laws without sufficient observation or consideration of human things. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: i mean, my friend, that they were afraid of the testator's reproaches, and so they passed a law to the effect that a man should be allowed to dispose of his property in all respects as he liked; but you and i, if i am not mistaken, will have something better to say to our departing citizens. cleinias: what? athenian: o my friends, we will say to them, hard is it for you, who are creatures of a day, to know what is yours--hard too, as the delphic oracle says, to know yourselves at this hour. now i, as the legislator, regard you and your possessions, not as belonging to yourselves, but as belonging to your whole family, both past and future, and yet more do i regard both family and possessions as belonging to the state; wherefore, if some one steals upon you with flattery, when you are tossed on the sea of disease or old age, and persuades you to dispose of your property in a way that is not for the best, i will not, if i can help, allow this; but i will legislate with a view to the whole, considering what is best both for the state and for the family, esteeming as i ought the feelings of an individual at a lower rate; and i hope that you will depart in peace and kindness towards us, as you are going the way of all mankind; and we will impartially take care of all your concerns, not neglecting any of them, if we can possibly help. let this be our prelude and consolation to the living and dying, cleinias, and let the law be as follows: he who makes a disposition in a testament, if he be the father of a family, shall first of all inscribe as his heir any one of his sons whom he may think fit; and if he gives any of his children to be adopted by another citizen, let the adoption be inscribed. and if he has a son remaining over and above who has not been adopted upon any lot, and who may be expected to be sent out to a colony according to law, to him his father may give as much as he pleases of the rest of his property, with the exception of the paternal lot and the fixtures on the lot. and if there are other sons, let him distribute among them what there is more than the lot in such portions as he pleases. and if one of the sons has already a house of his own, he shall not give him of the money, nor shall he give money to a daughter who has been betrothed, but if she is not betrothed he may give her money. and if any of the sons or daughters shall be found to have another lot of land in the country, which has accrued after the testament has been made, they shall leave the lot which they have inherited to the heir of the man who has made the will. if the testator has no sons, but only daughters, let him choose the husband of any one of his daughters whom he pleases, and leave and inscribe him as his son and heir. and if a man have lost his son, when he was a child, and before he could be reckoned among grown up men, whether his own or an adopted son, let the testator make mention of the circumstance and inscribe whom he will to be his second son in hope of better fortune. if the testator has no children at all, he may select and give to any one whom he pleases the tenth part of the property which he has acquired; but let him not be blamed if he gives all the rest to his adopted son, and makes a friend of him according to the law. if the sons of a man require guardians, and the father when he dies leaves a will appointing guardians, those who have been named by him, whoever they are and whatever their number be, if they are able and willing to take charge of the children, shall be recognised according to the provisions of the will. but if he dies and has made no will, or a will in which he has appointed no guardians, then the next of kin, two on the father's and two on the mother's side, and one of the friends of the deceased, shall have the authority of guardians, whom the guardians of the law shall appoint when the orphans require guardians. and the fifteen eldest guardians of the law shall have the whole care and charge of the orphans, divided into threes according to seniority--a body of three for one year, and then another body of three for the next year, until the cycle of the five periods is complete; and this, as far as possible, is to continue always. if a man dies, having made no will at all, and leaves sons who require the care of guardians, they shall share in the protection which is afforded by these laws. and if a man dying by some unexpected fate leaves daughters behind him, let him pardon the legislator if when he gives them in marriage, he have a regard only to two out of three conditions--nearness of kin and the preservation of the lot, and omits the third condition, which a father would naturally consider, for he would choose out of all the citizens a son for himself, and a husband for his daughter, with a view to his character and disposition--the father, i say, shall forgive the legislator if he disregards this, which to him is an impossible consideration. let the law about these matters where practicable be as follows: if a man dies without making a will, and leaves behind him daughters, let his brother, being the son of the same father or of the same mother, having no lot, marry the daughter and have the lot of the dead man. and if he have no brother, but only a brother's son, in like manner let them marry, if they be of a suitable age; and if there be not even a brother's son, but only the son of a sister, let them do likewise, and so in the fourth degree, if there be only the testator's father's brother, or in the fifth degree, his father's brother's son, or in the sixth degree, the child of his father's sister. let kindred be always reckoned in this way: if a person leaves daughters the relationship shall proceed upwards through brothers and sisters, and brothers' and sisters' children, and first the males shall come, and after them the females in the same family. the judge shall consider and determine the suitableness or unsuitableness of age in marriage; he shall make an inspection of the males naked, and of the women naked down to the navel. and if there be a lack of kinsmen in a family extending to grandchildren of a brother, or to the grandchildren of a grandfather's children, the maiden may choose with the consent of her guardians any one of the citizens who is willing and whom she wills, and he shall be the heir of the dead man, and the husband of his daughter. circumstances vary, and there may sometimes be a still greater lack of relations within the limits of the state; and if any maiden has no kindred living in the city, and there is some one who has been sent out to a colony, and she is disposed to make him the heir of her father's possessions, if he be indeed of her kindred, let him proceed to take the lot according to the regulation of the law; but if he be not of her kindred, she having no kinsmen within the city, and he be chosen by the daughter of the dead man, and empowered to marry by the guardians, let him return home and take the lot of him who died intestate. and if a man has no children, either male or female, and dies without making a will, let the previous law in general hold; and let a man and a woman go forth from the family and share the deserted house, and let the lot belong absolutely to them; and let the heiress in the first degree be a sister, and in a second degree a daughter of a brother, and in the third, a daughter of a sister, in the fourth degree the sister of a father, and in the fifth degree the daughter of a father's brother, and in a sixth degree of a father's sister; and these shall dwell with their male kinsmen, according to the degree of relationship and right, as we enacted before. now we must not conceal from ourselves that such laws are apt to be oppressive and that there may sometimes be a hardship in the lawgiver commanding the kinsman of the dead man to marry his relation; he may be thought not to have considered the innumerable hindrances which may arise among men in the execution of such ordinances; for there may be cases in which the parties refuse to obey, and are ready to do anything rather than marry, when there is some bodily or mental malady or defect among those who are bidden to marry or be married. persons may fancy that the legislator never thought of this, but they are mistaken; wherefore let us make a common prelude on behalf of the lawgiver and of his subjects, the law begging the latter to forgive the legislator, in that he, having to take care of the common weal, cannot order at the same time the various circumstances of individuals, and begging him to pardon them if naturally they are sometimes unable to fulfil the act which he in his ignorance imposes upon them. cleinias: and how, stranger, can we act most fairly under the circumstances? athenian: there must be arbiters chosen to deal with such laws and the subjects of them. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: i mean to say, that a case may occur in which the nephew, having a rich father, will be unwilling to marry the daughter of his uncle; he will have a feeling of pride, and he will wish to look higher. and there are cases in which the legislator will be imposing upon him the greatest calamity, and he will be compelled to disobey the law, if he is required, for example, to take a wife who is mad, or has some other terrible malady of soul or body, such as makes life intolerable to the sufferer. then let what we are saying concerning these cases be embodied in a law: if any one finds fault with the established laws respecting testaments, both as to other matters and especially in what relates to marriage, and asserts that the legislator, if he were alive and present, would not compel him to obey--that is to say, would not compel those who are by our law required to marry or be given in marriage, to do either--and some kinsman or guardian dispute this, the reply is that the legislator left fifteen of the guardians of the law to be arbiters and fathers of orphans, male or female, and to them let the disputants have recourse, and by their aid determine any matters of the kind, admitting their decision to be final. but if any one thinks that too great power is thus given to the guardians of the law, let him bring his adversaries into the court of the select judges, and there have the points in dispute determined. and he who loses the cause shall have censure and blame from the legislator, which, by a man of sense, is felt to be a penalty far heavier than a great loss of money. thus will orphan children have a second birth. after their first birth we spoke of their nurture and education, and after their second birth, when they have lost their parents, we ought to take measures that the misfortune of orphanhood may be as little sad to them as possible. in the first place, we say that the guardians of the law are lawgivers and fathers to them, not inferior to their natural fathers. moreover, they shall take charge of them year by year as of their own kindred; and we have given both to them and to the children's own guardians as suitable admonition concerning the nurture of orphans. and we seem to have spoken opportunely in our former discourse, when we said that the souls of the dead have the power after death of taking an interest in human affairs, about which there are many tales and traditions, long indeed, but true; and seeing that they are so many and so ancient, we must believe them, and we must also believe the lawgivers, who tell us that these things are true, if they are not to be regarded as utter fools. but if these things are really so, in the first place men should have a fear of the gods above, who regard the loneliness of the orphans; and in the second place of the souls of the departed, who by nature incline to take an especial care of their own children, and are friendly to those who honour, and unfriendly to those who dishonour them. men should also fear the souls of the living who are aged and high in honour; wherever a city is well ordered and prosperous, their descendants cherish them, and so live happily; old persons are quick to see and hear all that relates to them, and are propitious to those who are just in the fulfilment of such duties, and they punish those who wrong the orphan and the desolate, considering that they are the greatest and most sacred of trusts. to all which matters the guardian and magistrate ought to apply his mind, if he has any, and take heed of the nurture and education of the orphans, seeking in every possible way to do them good, for he is making a contribution to his own good and that of his children. he who obeys the tale which precedes the law, and does no wrong to an orphan, will never experience the wrath of the legislator. but he who is disobedient, and wrongs any one who is bereft of father or mother, shall pay twice the penalty which he would have paid if he had wronged one whose parents had been alive. as touching other legislation concerning guardians in their relation to orphans, or concerning magistrates and their superintendence of the guardians, if they did not possess examples of the manner in which children of freemen would be brought up in the bringing up of their own children, and of the care of their property in the care of their own, or if they had not just laws fairly stated about these very things--there would have been reason in making laws for them, under the idea that they were a peculiar class, and we might distinguish and make separate rules for the life of those who are orphans and of those who are not orphans. but as the case stands, the condition of orphans with us is not different from the case of those who have a father, though in regard to honour and dishonour, and the attention given to them, the two are not usually placed upon a level. wherefore, touching the legislation about orphans, the law speaks in serious accents, both of persuasion and threatening, and such a threat as the following will be by no means out of place: he who is the guardian of an orphan of either sex, and he among the guardians of the law to whom the superintendence of this guardian has been assigned, shall love the unfortunate orphan as though he were his own child, and he shall be as careful and diligent in the management of his possessions as he would be if they were his own, or even more careful and diligent. let every one who has the care of an orphan observe this law. but any one who acts contrary to the law on these matters, if he be a guardian of the child, may be fined by a magistrate, or, if he be himself a magistrate, the guardian may bring him before the court of select judges, and punish him, if convicted, by exacting a fine of double the amount of that inflicted by the court. and if a guardian appears to the relations of the orphan, or to any other citizen, to act negligently or dishonestly, let them bring him before the same court, and whatever damages are given against him, let him pay fourfold, and let half belong to the orphan and half to him who procured the conviction. if any orphan arrives at years of discretion, and thinks that he has been ill-used by his guardians, let him within five years of the expiration of the guardianship be allowed to bring them to trial; and if any of them be convicted, the court shall determine what he shall pay or suffer. and if a magistrate shall appear to have wronged the orphan by neglect, and he be convicted, let the court determine what he shall suffer or pay to the orphan, and if there be dishonesty in addition to neglect, besides paying the fine, let him be deposed from his office of guardian of the law, and let the state appoint another guardian of the law for the city and for the country in his room. greater differences than there ought to be sometimes arise between fathers and sons, on the part either of fathers who will be of opinion that the legislator should enact that they may, if they wish, lawfully renounce their son by the proclamation of a herald in the face of the world, or of sons who think that they should be allowed to indict their fathers on the charge of imbecility when they are disabled by disease or old age. these things only happen, as a matter of fact, where the natures of men are utterly bad; for where only half is bad, as, for example, if the father be not bad, but the son be bad, or conversely, no great calamity is the result of such an amount of hatred as this. in another state, a son disowned by his father would not of necessity cease to be a citizen, but in our state, of which these are to be the laws, the disinherited must necessarily emigrate into another country, for no addition can be made even of a single family to the households; and, therefore, he who deserves to suffer these things must be renounced not only by his father, who is a single person, but by the whole family, and what is done in these cases must be regulated by some such law as the following: he who in the sad disorder of his soul has a mind, justly or unjustly, to expel from his family a son whom he has begotten and brought up, shall not lightly or at once execute his purpose; but first of all he shall collect together his own kinsmen, extending to cousins, and in like manner his son's kinsmen by the mother's side, and in their presence he shall accuse his son, setting forth that he deserves at the hands of them all to be dismissed from the family; and the son shall be allowed to address them in a similar manner, and show that he does not deserve to suffer any of these things. and if the father persuades them, and obtains the suffrages of more than half of his kindred, exclusive of the father and mother and the offender himself--i say, if he obtains more than half the suffrages of all the other grown-up members of the family, of both sexes, the father shall be permitted to put away his son, but not otherwise. and if any other citizen is willing to adopt the son who is put away, no law shall hinder him; for the characters of young men are subject to many changes in the course of their lives. and if he has been put away, and in a period of ten years no one is willing to adopt him, let those who have the care of the superabundant population which is sent out into colonies, see to him, in order that he may be suitably provided for in the colony. and if disease or age or harshness of temper, or all these together, makes a man to be more out of his mind than the rest of the world are--but this is not observable, except to those who live with him--and he, being master of his property, is the ruin of the house, and his son doubts and hesitates about indicting his father for insanity, let the law in that case ordain that he shall first of all go to the eldest guardians of the law and tell them of his father's misfortune, and they shall duly look into the matter, and take counsel as to whether he shall indict him or not. and if they advise him to proceed, they shall be both his witnesses and his advocates; and if the father is cast, he shall henceforth be incapable of ordering the least particular of his life; let him be as a child dwelling in the house for the remainder of his days. and if a man and his wife have an unfortunate incompatibility of temper, ten of the guardians of the law, who are impartial, and ten of the women who regulate marriages, shall look to the matter, and if they are able to reconcile them they shall be formally reconciled; but if their souls are too much tossed with passion, they shall endeavour to find other partners. now they are not likely to have very gentle tempers; and, therefore, we must endeavour to associate with them deeper and softer natures. those who have no children, or only a few, at the time of their separation, should choose their new partners with a view to the procreation of children; but those who have a sufficient number of children should separate and marry again in order that they may have some one to grow old with and that the pair may take care of one another in age. if a woman dies, leaving children, male or female, the law will advise rather than compel the husband to bring up the children without introducing into the house a stepmother. but if he have no children, then he shall be compelled to marry until he has begotten a sufficient number of sons to his family and to the state. and if a man dies leaving a sufficient number of children, the mother of his children shall remain with them and bring them up. but if she appears to be too young to live virtuously without a husband, let her relations communicate with the women who superintend marriage, and let both together do what they think best in these matters; if there is a lack of children, let the choice be made with a view to having them; two children, one of either sex, shall be deemed sufficient in the eye of the law. when a child is admitted to be the offspring of certain parents and is acknowledged by them, but there is need of a decision as to which parent the child is to follow--in case a female slave have intercourse with a male slave, or with a freeman or freedman, the offspring shall always belong to the master of the female slave. again, if a free woman have intercourse with a male slave, the offspring shall belong to the master of the slave; but if a child be born either of a slave by her master, or of his mistress by a slave--and this be proven--the offspring of the woman and its father shall be sent away by the women who superintend marriage into another country, and the guardians of the law shall send away the offspring of the man and its mother. neither god, nor a man who has understanding, will ever advise any one to neglect his parents. to a discourse concerning the honour and dishonour of parents, a prelude such as the following, about the service of the gods, will be a suitable introduction: there are ancient customs about the gods which are universal, and they are of two kinds: some of the gods we see with our eyes and we honour them, of others we honour the images, raising statues of them which we adore; and though they are lifeless, yet we imagine that the living gods have a good will and gratitude to us on this account. now, if a man has a father or mother, or their fathers or mothers treasured up in his house stricken in years, let him consider that no statue can be more potent to grant his requests than they are, who are sitting at his hearth, if only he knows how to show true service to them. cleinias: and what do you call the true mode of service? athenian: i will tell you, o my friend, for such things are worth listening to. cleinias: proceed. athenian: oedipus, as tradition says, when dishonoured by his sons, invoked on them curses which every one declares to have been heard and ratified by the gods, and amyntor in his wrath invoked curses on his son phoenix, and theseus upon hippolytus, and innumerable others have also called down wrath upon their children, whence it is clear that the gods listen to the imprecations of parents; for the curses of parents are, as they ought to be, mighty against their children as no others are. and shall we suppose that the prayers of a father or mother who is specially dishonoured by his or her children, are heard by the gods in accordance with nature; and that if a parent is honoured by them, and in the gladness of his heart earnestly entreats the gods in his prayers to do them good, he is not equally heard, and that they do not minister to his request? if not, they would be very unjust ministers of good, and that we affirm to be contrary to their nature. cleinias: certainly. athenian: may we not think, as i was saying just now, that we can possess no image which is more honoured by the gods, than that of a father or grandfather, or of a mother stricken in years? whom when a man honours, the heart of the god rejoices, and he is ready to answer their prayers. and, truly, the figure of an ancestor is a wonderful thing, far higher than that of a lifeless image. for the living, when they are honoured by us, join in our prayers, and when they are dishonoured, they utter imprecations against us; but lifeless objects do neither. and therefore, if a man makes a right use of his father and grandfather and other aged relations, he will have images which above all others will win him the favour of the gods. cleinias: excellent. athenian: every man of any understanding fears and respects the prayers of parents, knowing well that many times and to many persons they have been accomplished. now these things being thus ordered by nature, good men think it a blessing from heaven if their parents live to old age and reach the utmost limit of human life, or if taken away before their time they are deeply regretted by them; but to bad men parents are always a cause of terror. wherefore let every man honour with every sort of lawful honour his own parents, agreeably to what has now been said. but if this prelude be an unmeaning sound in the ears of any one, let the law follow, which may be rightly imposed in these terms: if any one in this city be not sufficiently careful of his parents, and do not regard and gratify in every respect their wishes more than those of his sons and of his other offspring or of himself--let him who experiences this sort of treatment either come himself, or send some one to inform the three eldest guardians of the law, and three of the women who have the care of marriages; and let them look to the matter and punish youthful evil-doers with stripes and bonds if they are under thirty years of age, that is to say, if they be men, or if they be women, let them undergo the same punishment up to forty years of age. but if, when they are still more advanced in years, they continue the same neglect of their parents, and do any hurt to any of them, let them be brought before a court in which every single one of the eldest citizens shall be the judges, and if the offender be convicted, let the court determine what he ought to pay or suffer, and any penalty may be imposed on him which a man can pay or suffer. if the person who has been wronged be unable to inform the magistrates, let any freeman who hears of his case inform, and if he do not, he shall be deemed base, and shall be liable to have a suit for damage brought against him by any one who likes. and if a slave inform, he shall receive freedom; and if he be the slave of the injurer or injured party, he shall be set free by the magistrates, or if he belong to any other citizen, the public shall pay a price on his behalf to the owner; and let the magistrates take heed that no one wrongs him out of revenge, because he has given information. cases in which one man injures another by poisons, and which prove fatal, have been already discussed; but about other cases in which a person intentionally and of malice harms another with meats, or drinks, or ointments, nothing has as yet been determined. for there are two kinds of poisons used among men, which cannot clearly be distinguished. there is the kind just now explicitly mentioned, which injures bodies by the use of other bodies according to a natural law; there is also another kind which persuades the more daring class that they can do injury by sorceries, and incantations, and magic knots, as they are termed, and makes others believe that they above all persons are injured by the powers of the magician. now it is not easy to know the nature of all these things; nor if a man do know can he readily persuade others to believe him. and when men are disturbed in their minds at the sight of waxen images fixed either at their doors, or in a place where three ways meet, or on the sepulchres of parents, there is no use in trying to persuade them that they should despise all such things because they have no certain knowledge about them. but we must have a law in two parts, concerning poisoning, in whichever of the two ways the attempt is made, and we must entreat, and exhort, and advise men not to have recourse to such practises, by which they scare the multitude out of their wits, as if they were children, compelling the legislator and the judge to heal the fears which the sorcerer arouses, and to tell them in the first place, that he who attempts to poison or enchant others knows not what he is doing, either as regards the body (unless he has a knowledge of medicine), or as regards his enchantments (unless he happens to be a prophet or diviner). let the law, then, run as follows about poisoning or witchcraft: he who employs poison to do any injury, not fatal, to a man himself, or to his servants, or any injury, whether fatal or not, to his cattle or his bees, if he be a physician, and be convicted of poisoning, shall be punished with death; or if he be a private person, the court shall determine what he is to pay or suffer. but he who seems to be the sort of man who injures others by magic knots, or enchantments, or incantations, or any of the like practices, if he be a prophet or diviner, let him die; and if, not being a prophet, he be convicted of witchcraft, as in the previous case, let the court fix what he ought to pay or suffer. when a man does another any injury by theft or violence, for the greater injury let him pay greater damages to the injured man, and less for the smaller injury; but in all cases, whatever the injury may have been, as much as will compensate the loss. and besides the compensation of the wrong, let a man pay a further penalty for the chastisement of his offence: he who has done the wrong instigated by the folly of another, through the lightheartedness of youth or the like, shall pay a lighter penalty; but he who has injured another through his own folly, when overcome by pleasure or pain, in cowardly fear, or lust, or envy, or implacable anger, shall endure a heavier punishment. not that he is punished because he did wrong, for that which is done can never be undone, but in order that in future times, he, and those who see him corrected, may utterly hate injustice, or at any rate abate much of their evil-doing. having an eye to all these things, the law, like a good archer, should aim at the right measure of punishment, and in all cases at the deserved punishment. in the attainment of this the judge shall be a fellow-worker with the legislator, whenever the law leaves to him to determine what the offender shall suffer or pay; and the legislator, like a painter, shall give a rough sketch of the cases in which the law is to be applied. this is what we must do, megillus and cleinias, in the best and fairest manner that we can, saying what the punishments are to be of all actions of theft and violence, and giving laws of such a kind as the gods and sons of gods would have us give. if a man is mad he shall not be at large in the city, but his relations shall keep him at home in any way which they can; or if not, let them pay a penalty--he who is of the highest class shall pay a penalty of one hundred drachmas, whether he be a slave or a freeman whom he neglects; and he of the second class shall pay four-fifths of a mina; and he of the third class three-fifths; and he of the fourth class two-fifths. now there are many sorts of madness, some arising out of disease, which we have already mentioned; and there are other kinds, which originate in an evil and passionate temperament, and are increased by bad education; out of a slight quarrel this class of madmen will often raise a storm of abuse against one another, and nothing of that sort ought to be allowed to occur in a well-ordered state. let this, then, be the law about abuse, which shall relate to all cases: no one shall speak evil of another; and when a man disputes with another he shall teach and learn of the disputant and the company, but he shall abstain from evil-speaking; for out of the imprecations which men utter against one another, and the feminine habit of casting aspersions on one another, and using foul names, out of words light as air, in very deed the greatest enmities and hatreds spring up. for the speaker gratifies his anger, which is an ungracious element of his nature; and nursing up his wrath by the entertainment of evil thoughts, and exacerbating that part of his soul which was formerly civilised by education, he lives in a state of savageness and moroseness, and pays a bitter penalty for his anger. and in such cases almost all men take to saying something ridiculous about their opponent, and there is no man who is in the habit of laughing at another who does not miss virtue and earnestness altogether, or lose the better half of greatness. wherefore let no one utter any taunting word at a temple, or at the public sacrifices, or at the games, or in the agora, or in a court of justice, or in any public assembly. and let the magistrate who presides on these occasions chastise an offender, and he shall be blameless; but if he fails in doing so, he shall not claim the prize of virtue; for he is one who heeds not the laws, and does not do what the legislator commands. and if in any other place any one indulges in these sort of revilings, whether he has begun the quarrel or is only retaliating, let any elder who is present support the law, and control with blows those who indulge in passion, which is another great evil; and if he do not, let him be liable to pay the appointed penalty. and we say now, that he who deals in reproaches against others cannot reproach them without attempting to ridicule them; and this, when done in a moment of anger, is what we make matter of reproach against him. but then, do we admit into our state the comic writers who are so fond of making mankind ridiculous, if they attempt in a good-natured manner to turn the laugh against our citizens? or do we draw the distinction of jest and earnest, and allow a man to make use of ridicule in jest and without anger about any thing or person; though as we were saying, not if he be angry and have a set purpose? we forbid earnest--that is unalterably fixed; but we have still to say who are to be sanctioned or not to be sanctioned by the law in the employment of innocent humour. a comic poet, or maker of iambic or satirical lyric verse, shall not be permitted to ridicule any of the citizens, either by word or likeness, either in anger or without anger. and if any one is disobedient, the judges shall either at once expel him from the country, or he shall pay a fine of three minae, which shall be dedicated to the god who presides over the contests. those only who have received permission shall be allowed to write verses at one another, but they shall be without anger and in jest; in anger and in serious earnest they shall not be allowed. the decision of this matter shall be left to the superintendent of the general education of the young, and whatever he may license, the writer shall be allowed to produce, and whatever he rejects let not the poet himself exhibit, or ever teach anybody else, slave or freeman, under the penalty of being dishonoured, and held disobedient to the laws. now he is not to be pitied who is hungry, or who suffers any bodily pain, but he who is temperate, or has some other virtue, or part of a virtue, and at the same time suffers from misfortune; it would be an extraordinary thing if such an one, whether slave or freeman, were utterly forsaken and fell into the extremes of poverty in any tolerably well-ordered city or government. wherefore the legislator may safely make a law applicable to such cases in the following terms: let there be no beggars in our state; and if anybody begs, seeking to pick up a livelihood by unavailing prayers, let the wardens of the agora turn him out of the agora, and the wardens of the city out of the city, and the wardens of the country send him out of any other parts of the land across the border, in order that the land may be cleared of this sort of animal. if a slave of either sex injure anything, which is not his or her own, through inexperience, or some improper practice, and the person who suffers damage be not himself in part to blame, the master of the slave who has done the harm shall either make full satisfaction, or give up the slave who has done the injury. but if the master argue that the charge has arisen by collusion between the injured party and the injurer, with the view of obtaining the slave, let him sue the person, who says that he has been injured, for malpractices. and if he gain a conviction, let him receive double the value which the court fixes as the price of the slave; and if he lose his suit, let him make amends for the injury, and give up the slave. and if a beast of burden, or horse, or dog, or any other animal, injure the property of a neighbour, the owner shall in like manner pay for the injury. if any man refuses to be a witness, he who wants him shall summon him, and he who is summoned shall come to the trial; and if he knows and is willing to bear witness, let him bear witness, but if he says he does not know let him swear by the three divinities zeus, and apollo, and themis, that he does not, and have no more to do with the cause. and he who is summoned to give witness and does not answer to his summoner, shall be liable for the harm which ensues according to law. and if a person calls up as a witness any one who is acting as a judge, let him give his witness, but he shall not afterwards vote in the cause. a free woman may give her witness and plead, if she be more than forty years of age, and may bring an action if she have no husband; but if her husband be alive she shall only be allowed to bear witness. a slave of either sex and a child shall be allowed to give evidence and to plead, but only in cases of murder; and they must produce sufficient sureties that they will certainly remain until the trial, in case they should be charged with false witness. and either of the parties in a cause may bring an accusation of perjury against witnesses, touching their evidence in whole or in part, if he asserts that such evidence has been given; but the accusation must be brought previous to the final decision of the cause. the magistrates shall preserve the accusations of false witness, and have them kept under the seal of both parties, and produce them on the day when the trial for false witness takes place. if a man be twice convicted of false witness, he shall not be required, and if thrice, he shall not be allowed to bear witness; and if he dare to witness after he has been convicted three times, let any one who pleases inform against him to the magistrates, and let the magistrates hand him over to the court, and if he be convicted he shall be punished with death. and in any case in which the evidence is rightly found to be false, and yet to have given the victory to him who wins the suit, and more than half the witnesses are condemned, the decision which was gained by these means shall be rescinded, and there shall be a discussion and a decision as to whether the suit was determined by that false evidence or not; and in whichever way the decision may be given, the previous suit shall be determined accordingly. there are many noble things in human life, but to most of them attach evils which are fated to corrupt and spoil them. is not justice noble, which has been the civiliser of humanity? how then can the advocate of justice be other than noble? and yet upon this profession which is presented to us under the fair name of art has come an evil reputation. in the first place, we are told that by ingenious pleas and the help of an advocate the law enables a man to win a particular cause, whether just or unjust; and that both the art, and the power of speech which is thereby imparted, are at the service of him who is willing to pay for them. now in our state this so-called art, whether really an art or only an experience and practice destitute of any art, ought if possible never to come into existence, or if existing among us should listen to the request of the legislator and go away into another land, and not speak contrary to justice. if the offenders obey we say no more; but for those who disobey, the voice of the law is as follows: if any one thinks that he will pervert the power of justice in the minds of the judges, and unseasonably litigate or advocate, let any one who likes indict him for malpractices of law and dishonest advocacy, and let him be judged in the court of select judges; and if he be convicted, let the court determine whether he may be supposed to act from a love of money or from contentiousness. and if he is supposed to act from contentiousness, the court shall fix a time during which he shall not be allowed to institute or plead a cause; and if he is supposed to act as he does from love of money, in case he be a stranger, he shall leave the country, and never return under penalty of death; but if he be a citizen, he shall die, because he is a lover of money, in whatever manner gained; and equally, if he be judged to have acted more than once from contentiousness, he shall die. book xii. if a herald or an ambassador carry a false message from our city to any other, or bring back a false message from the city to which he is sent, or be proved to have brought back, whether from friends or enemies, in his capacity of herald or ambassador, what they have never said, let him be indicted for having violated, contrary to the law, the commands and duties imposed upon him by hermes and zeus, and let there be a penalty fixed, which he shall suffer or pay if he be convicted. theft is a mean, and robbery a shameless thing; and none of the sons of zeus delight in fraud and violence, or ever practised either. wherefore let no one be deluded by poets or mythologers into a mistaken belief of such things, nor let him suppose, when he thieves or is guilty of violence, that he is doing nothing base, but only what the gods themselves do. for such tales are untrue and improbable; and he who steals or robs contrary to the law, is never either a god or the son of a god; of this the legislator ought to be better informed than all the poets put together. happy is he and may he be for ever happy, who is persuaded and listens to our words; but he who disobeys shall have to contend against the following law: if a man steal anything belonging to the public, whether that which he steals be much or little, he shall have the same punishment. for he who steals a little steals with the same wish as he who steals much, but with less power, and he who takes up a greater amount, not having deposited it, is wholly unjust. wherefore the law is not disposed to inflict a less penalty on the one than on the other because his theft is less, but on the ground that the thief may possibly be in one case still curable, and may in another case be incurable. if any one convict in a court of law a stranger or a slave of a theft of public property, let the court determine what punishment he shall suffer, or what penalty he shall pay, bearing in mind that he is probably not incurable. but the citizen who has been brought up as our citizens will have been, if he be found guilty of robbing his country by fraud or violence, whether he be caught in the act or not, shall be punished with death; for he is incurable. now for expeditions of war much consideration and many laws are required; the great principle of all is that no one of either sex should be without a commander; nor should the mind of any one be accustomed to do anything, either in jest or earnest, of his own motion, but in war and in peace he should look to and follow his leader, even in the least things being under his guidance; for example, he should stand or move, or exercise, or wash, or take his meals, or get up in the night to keep guard and deliver messages when he is bidden; and in the hour of danger he should not pursue and not retreat except by order of his superior; and in a word, not teach the soul or accustom her to know or understand how to do anything apart from others. of all soldiers the life should be always and in all things as far as possible in common and together; there neither is nor ever will be a higher, or better, or more scientific principle than this for the attainment of salvation and victory in war. and we ought in time of peace from youth upwards to practise this habit of commanding others, and of being commanded by others; anarchy should have no place in the life of man or of the beasts who are subject to man. i may add that all dances ought to be performed with a view to military excellence; and agility and ease should be cultivated for the same object, and also endurance of the want of meats and drinks, and of winter cold and summer heat, and of hard couches; and, above all, care should be taken not to destroy the peculiar qualities of the head and the feet by surrounding them with extraneous coverings, and so hindering their natural growth of hair and soles. for these are the extremities, and of all the parts of the body, whether they are preserved or not is of the greatest consequence; the one is the servant of the whole body, and the other the master, in whom all the ruling senses are by nature set. let the young men imagine that he hears in what has preceded the praises of the military life; the law shall be as follows: he shall serve in war who is on the roll or appointed to some special service, and if any one is absent from cowardice, and without the leave of the generals, he shall be indicted before the military commanders for failure of service when the army comes home; and the soldiers shall be his judges; the heavy-armed, and the cavalry, and the other arms of the service shall form separate courts; and they shall bring the heavy-armed before the heavy-armed, and the horsemen before the horsemen, and the others in like manner before their peers; and he who is found guilty shall never be allowed to compete for any prize of valour, or indict another for not serving on an expedition, or be an accuser at all in any military matters. moreover, the court shall further determine what punishment he shall suffer, or what penalty he shall pay. when the suits for failure of service are completed, the leaders of the several kinds of troops shall again hold an assembly, and they shall adjudge the prizes of valour; and he who likes searching for judgment in his own branch of the service, saying nothing about any former expedition, nor producing any proof or witnesses to confirm his statement, but speaking only of the present occasion. the crown of victory shall be an olive wreath which the victor shall offer up at the temple of any war-god whom he likes, adding an inscription for a testimony to last during life, that such an one has received the first, the second, or the third prize. if any one goes on an expedition, and returns home before the appointed time, when the generals have not withdrawn the army, he shall be indicted for desertion before the same persons who took cognizance of failure of service, and if he be found guilty, the same punishment shall be inflicted on him. now every man who is engaged in any suit ought to be very careful of bringing false witness against any one, either intentionally or unintentionally, if he can help; for justice is truly said to be an honourable maiden, and falsehood is naturally repugnant to honour and justice. a witness ought to be very careful not to sin against justice, as for example in what relates to the throwing away of arms--he must distinguish the throwing them away when necessary, and not make that a reproach, or bring an action against some innocent person on that account. to make the distinction may be difficult; but still the law must attempt to define the different kinds in some way. let me endeavour to explain my meaning by an ancient tale: if patroclus had been brought to the tent still alive but without his arms (and this has happened to innumerable persons), the original arms, which the poet says were presented to peleus by the gods as a nuptial gift when he married thetis, remaining in the hands of hector, then the base spirits of that day might have reproached the son of menoetius with having cast away his arms. again, there is the case of those who have been thrown down precipices and lost their arms; and of those who at sea, and in stormy places, have been suddenly overwhelmed by floods of water; and there are numberless things of this kind which one might adduce by way of extenuation, and with the view of justifying a misfortune which is easily misrepresented. we must, therefore, endeavour to divide to the best of our power the greater and more serious evil from the lesser. and a distinction may be drawn in the use of terms of reproach. a man does not always deserve to be called the thrower away of his shield; he may be only the loser of his arms. for there is a great or rather absolute difference between him who is deprived of his arms by a sufficient force, and him who voluntarily lets his shield go. let the law then be as follows: if a person having arms is overtaken by the enemy and does not turn round and defend himself, but lets them go voluntarily or throws them away, choosing a base life and a swift escape rather than a courageous and noble and blessed death--in such a case of the throwing away of arms let justice be done, but the judge need take no note of the case just now mentioned; for the bad men ought always to be punished, in the hope that he may be improved, but not the unfortunate, for there is no advantage in that. and what shall be the punishment suited to him who has thrown away his weapons of defence? tradition says that caeneus, the thessalian, was changed by a god from a woman into a man; but the converse miracle cannot now be wrought, or no punishment would be more proper than that the man who throws away his shield should be changed into a woman. this however is impossible, and therefore let us make a law as nearly like this as we can--that he who loves his life too well shall be in no danger for the remainder of his days, but shall live for ever under the stigma of cowardice. and let the law be in the following terms: when a man is found guilty of disgracefully throwing away his arms in war, no general or military officer shall allow him to serve as a soldier, or give him any place at all in the ranks of soldiers; and the officer who gives the coward any place, shall suffer a penalty which the public examiner shall exact of him; and if he be of the highest class, he shall pay a thousand drachmae; or if he be of the second class, five minae; or if he be of the third, three minae; or if he be of the fourth class, one mina. and he who is found guilty of cowardice, shall not only be dismissed from manly dangers, which is a disgrace appropriate to his nature, but he shall pay a thousand drachmae, if he be of the highest class, and five minae if he be of the second class, and three if he be of the third class, and a mina, like the preceding, if he be of the fourth class. what regulations will be proper about examiners, seeing that some of our magistrates are elected by lot, and for a year, and some for a longer time and from selected persons? of such magistrates, who will be a sufficient censor or examiner, if any of them, weighed down by the pressure of office or his own inability to support the dignity of his office, be guilty of any crooked practice? it is by no means easy to find a magistrate who excels other magistrates in virtue, but still we must endeavour to discover some censor or examiner who is more than man. for the truth is, that there are many elements of dissolution in a state, as there are also in a ship, or in an animal; they all have their cords, and girders, and sinews--one nature diffused in many places, and called by many names; and the office of examiner is a most important element in the preservation and dissolution of states. for if the examiners are better than the magistrates, and their duty is fulfilled justly and without blame, then the whole state and country flourishes and is happy; but if the examination of the magistrates is carried on in a wrong way, then, by the relaxation of that justice which is the uniting principle of all constitutions, every power in the state is rent asunder from every other; they no longer incline in the same direction, but fill the city with faction, and make many cities out of one, and soon bring all to destruction. wherefore the examiners ought to be admirable in every sort of virtue. let us invent a mode of creating them, which shall be as follows: every year, after the summer solstice, the whole city shall meet in the common precincts of helios and apollo, and shall present to the god three men out of their own number in the manner following: each citizen shall select, not himself, but some other citizen whom he deems in every way the best, and who is not less than fifty years of age. and out of the selected persons who have the greatest number of votes, they shall make a further selection until they reduce them to one-half, if they are an even number; but if they are not an even number, they shall subtract the one who has the smallest number of votes, and make them an even number, and then leave the half which have the greater number of votes. and if two persons have an equal number of votes, and thus increase the number beyond one-half, they shall withdraw the younger of the two and do away the excess; and then including all the rest they shall again vote, until there are left three having an unequal number of votes. but if all the three, or two out of the three, have equal votes, let them commit the election to good fate and fortune, and separate off by lot the first, and the second, and the third; these they shall crown with an olive wreath and give them the prize of excellence, at the same time proclaiming to all the world that the city of the magnetes, by the providence of the gods, is again preserved, and presents to the sun and to apollo her three best men as first-fruits, to be a common offering to them, according to the ancient law, as long as their lives answer to the judgment formed of them. and these shall appoint in their first year twelve examiners, to continue until each has completed seventy-five years, to whom three shall afterwards be added yearly; and let these divide all the magistracies into twelve parts, and prove the holders of them by every sort of test to which a freeman may be subjected; and let them live while they hold office in the precinct of helios and apollo, in which they were chosen, and let each one form a judgment of some things individually, and of others in company with his colleagues; and let him place a writing in the agora about each magistracy, and what the magistrate ought to suffer or pay, according to the decision of the examiners. and if a magistrate does not admit that he has been justly judged, let him bring the examiners before the select judges, and if he be acquitted by their decision, let him, if he will, accuse the examiners themselves; if, however, he be convicted, and have been condemned to death by the examiners, let him die (and of course he can only die once): but any other penalties which admit of being doubled let him suffer twice over. and now let us pass under review the examiners themselves; what will their examination be, and how conducted? during the life of these men, whom the whole state counts worthy of the rewards of virtue, they shall have the first seat at all public assemblies, and at all hellenic sacrifices and sacred missions, and other public and holy ceremonies in which they share. the chiefs of each sacred mission shall be selected from them, and they only of all the citizens shall be adorned with a crown of laurel; they shall all be priests of apollo and helios; and one of them, who is judged first of the priests created in that year, shall be high priest; and they shall write up his name in each year to be a measure of time as long as the city lasts; and after their death they shall be laid out and carried to the grave and entombed in a manner different from the other citizens. they shall be decked in a robe all of white, and there shall be no crying or lamentation over them; but a chorus of fifteen maidens, and another of boys, shall stand around the bier on either side, hymning the praises of the departed priests in alternate responses, declaring their blessedness in song all day long; and at dawn a hundred of the youths who practise gymnastic exercises, and whom the relations of the departed shall choose, shall carry the bier to the sepulchre, the young men marching first, dressed in the garb of warriors--the cavalry with their horses, the heavy-armed with their arms, and the others in like manner. and boys near the bier and in front of it shall sing their national hymn, and maidens shall follow behind, and with them the women who have passed the age of child-bearing; next, although they are interdicted from other burials, let priests and priestesses follow, unless the pythian oracle forbid them; for this burial is free from pollution. the place of burial shall be an oblong vaulted chamber underground, constructed of tufa, which will last for ever, having stone couches placed side by side. and here they will lay the blessed person, and cover the sepulchre with a circular mound of earth and plant a grove of trees around on every side but one; and on that side the sepulchre shall be allowed to extend for ever, and a new mound will not be required. every year they shall have contests in music and gymnastics, and in horsemanship, in honour of the dead. these are the honours which shall be given to those who at the examination are found blameless; but if any of them, trusting to the scrutiny being over, should, after the judgment has been given, manifest the wickedness of human nature, let the law ordain that he who pleases shall indict him, and let the cause be tried in the following manner. in the first place, the court shall be composed of the guardians of the law, and to them the surviving examiners shall be added, as well as the court of select judges; and let the pursuer lay his indictment in this form--he shall say that so-and-so is unworthy of the prize of virtue and of his office; and if the defendant be convicted let him be deprived of his office, and of the burial, and of the other honours given him. but if the prosecutor do not obtain the fifth part of the votes, let him, if he be of the first-class, pay twelve minae, and eight if he be of the second class, and six if he be of the third class, and two minae if he be of the fourth class. the so-called decision of rhadamanthus is worthy of all admiration. he knew that the men of his own time believed and had no doubt that there were gods, which was a reasonable belief in those days, because most men were the sons of gods, and according to tradition he was one himself. he appears to have thought that he ought to commit judgment to no man, but to the gods only, and in this way suits were simply and speedily decided by him. for he made the two parties take an oath respecting the points in dispute, and so got rid of the matter speedily and safely. but now that a certain portion of mankind do not believe at all in the existence of the gods, and others imagine that they have no care of us, and the opinion of most men, and of the worst men, is that in return for a small sacrifice and a few flattering words they will be their accomplices in purloining large sums and save them from many terrible punishments, the way of rhadamanthus is no longer suited to the needs of justice; for as the opinions of men about the gods are changed, the laws should also be changed--in the granting of suits a rational legislation ought to do away with the oaths of the parties on either side--he who obtains leave to bring an action should write down the charges, but should not add an oath; and the defendant in like manner should give his denial to the magistrates in writing, and not swear; for it is a dreadful thing to know, when many lawsuits are going on in a state, that almost half the people who meet one another quite unconcernedly at the public meals and in other companies and relations of private life are perjured. let the law, then, be as follows: a judge who is about to give judgment shall take an oath, and he who is choosing magistrates for the state shall either vote on oath or with a voting tablet which he brings from a temple; so too the judge of dances and of all music, and the superintendents and umpires of gymnastic and equestrian contests, and any matters in which, as far as men can judge, there is nothing to be gained by a false oath; but all cases in which a denial confirmed by an oath clearly results in a great advantage to the taker of the oath, shall be decided without the oath of the parties to the suit, and the presiding judges shall not permit either of them to use an oath for the sake of persuading, nor to call down curses on himself and his race, nor to use unseemly supplications or womanish laments. but they shall ever be teaching and learning what is just in auspicious words; and he who does otherwise shall be supposed to speak beside the point, and the judges shall again bring him back to the question at issue. on the other hand, strangers in their dealings with strangers shall as at present have power to give and receive oaths, for they will not often grow old in the city or leave a fry of young ones like themselves to be the sons and heirs of the land. as to the initiation of private suits, let the manner of deciding causes between all citizens be the same as in cases in which any freeman is disobedient to the state in minor matters, of which the penalty is not stripes, imprisonment, or death. but as regards attendance at choruses or processions or other shows, and as regards public services, whether the celebration of sacrifice in peace, or the payment of contributions in war--in all these cases, first comes the necessity of providing a remedy for the loss; and by those who will not obey, there shall be security given to the officers whom the city and the law empower to exact the sum due; and if they forfeit their security, let the goods which they have pledged be sold and the money given to the city; but if they ought to pay a larger sum, the several magistrates shall impose upon the disobedient a suitable penalty, and bring them before the court, until they are willing to do what they are ordered. now a state which makes money from the cultivation of the soil only, and has no foreign trade, must consider what it will do about the emigration of its own people to other countries, and the reception of strangers from elsewhere. about these matters the legislator has to consider, and he will begin by trying to persuade men as far as he can. the intercourse of cities with one another is apt to create a confusion of manners; strangers are always suggesting novelties to strangers. when states are well governed by good laws the mixture causes the greatest possible injury; but seeing that most cities are the reverse of well-ordered, the confusion which arises in them from the reception of strangers, and from the citizens themselves rushing off into other cities, when any one either young or old desires to travel anywhere abroad at whatever time, is of no consequence. on the other hand, the refusal of states to receive others, and for their own citizens never to go to other places, is an utter impossibility, and to the rest of the world is likely to appear ruthless and uncivilised; it is a practice adopted by people who use harsh words, such as xenelasia or banishment of strangers, and who have harsh and morose ways, as men think. and to be thought or not to be thought well of by the rest of the world is no light matter; for the many are not so far wrong in their judgment of who are bad and who are good, as they are removed from the nature of virtue in themselves. even bad men have a divine instinct which guesses rightly, and very many who are utterly depraved form correct notions and judgments of the differences between the good and bad. and the generality of cities are quite right in exhorting us to value a good reputation in the world, for there is no truth greater and more important than this--that he who is really good (i am speaking of the men who would be perfect) seeks for reputation with, but not without, the reality of goodness. and our cretan colony ought also to acquire the fairest and noblest reputation for virtue from other men; and there is every reason to expect that, if the reality answers to the idea, she will be one of the few well-ordered cities which the sun and the other gods behold. wherefore, in the matter of journeys to other countries and the reception of strangers, we enact as follows: in the first place, let no one be allowed to go anywhere at all into a foreign country who is less than forty years of age; and no one shall go in a private capacity, but only in some public one, as a herald, or on an embassy, or on a sacred mission. going abroad on an expedition or in war is not to be included among travels of the class authorised by the state. to apollo at delphi and to zeus at olympia and to nemea and to the isthmus, citizens should be sent to take part in the sacrifices and games there dedicated to the gods; and they should send as many as possible, and the best and fairest that can be found, and they will make the city renowned at holy meetings in time of peace, procuring a glory which shall be the converse of that which is gained in war; and when they come home they shall teach the young that the institutions of other states are inferior to their own. and they shall send spectators of another sort, if they have the consent of the guardians, being such citizens as desire to look a little more at leisure at the doings of other men; and these no law shall hinder. for a city which has no experience of good and bad men or intercourse with them, can never be thoroughly and perfectly civilised, nor, again, can the citizens of a city properly observe the laws by habit only, and without an intelligent understanding of them. and there always are in the world a few inspired men whose acquaintance is beyond price, and who spring up quite as much in ill-ordered as in well-ordered cities. these are they whom the citizens of a well-ordered city should be ever seeking out, going forth over sea and over land to find him who is incorruptible--that he may establish more firmly institutions in his own state which are good already, and amend what is deficient; for without this examination and enquiry a city will never continue perfect any more than if the examination is ill-conducted. cleinias: how can we have an examination and also a good one? athenian: in this way: in the first place, our spectator shall be of not less than fifty years of age; he must be a man of reputation, especially in war, if he is to exhibit to other cities a model of the guardians of the law, but when he is more than sixty years of age he shall no longer continue in his office of spectator. and when he has carried on his inspection during as many out of the ten years of his office as he pleases, on his return home let him go to the assembly of those who review the laws. this shall be a mixed body of young and old men, who shall be required to meet daily between the hour of dawn and the rising of the sun. they shall consist, in the first place, of the priests who have obtained the rewards of virtue; and, in the second place, of guardians of the law, the ten eldest being chosen; the general superintendent of education shall also be a member, as well as the last appointed as those who have been released from the office; and each of them shall take with him as his companion a young man, whomsoever he chooses, between the ages of thirty and forty. these shall be always holding conversation and discourse about the laws of their own city or about any specially good ones which they may hear to be existing elsewhere; also about kinds of knowledge which may appear to be of use and will throw light upon the examination, or of which the want will make the subject of laws dark and uncertain to them. any knowledge of this sort which the elders approve, the younger men shall learn with all diligence; and if any one of those who have been invited appear to be unworthy, the whole assembly shall blame him who invited him. the rest of the city shall watch over those among the young men who distinguish themselves, having an eye upon them, and especially honouring them if they succeed, but dishonouring them above the rest if they turn out to be inferior. this is the assembly to which he who has visited the institutions of other men, on his return home shall straightway go, and if he have discovered any one who has anything to say about the enactment of laws or education or nurture, or if he have himself made any observations, let him communicate his discoveries to the whole assembly. and if he be seen to have come home neither better nor worse, let him be praised at any rate for his enthusiasm; and if he be much better, let him be praised so much the more; and not only while he lives but after his death let the assembly honour him with fitting honours. but if on his return home he appear to have been corrupted, pretending to be wise when he is not, let him hold no communication with any one, whether young or old; and if he will hearken to the rulers, then he shall be permitted to live as a private individual; but if he will not, let him die, if he be convicted in a court of law of interfering about education and the laws. and if he deserve to be indicted, and none of the magistrates indict him, let that be counted as a disgrace to them when the rewards of virtue are decided. let such be the character of the person who goes abroad, and let him go abroad under these conditions. in the next place, the stranger who comes from abroad should be received in a friendly spirit. now there are four kinds of strangers, of whom we must make some mention--the first is he who comes and stays throughout the summer; this class are like birds of passage, taking wing in pursuit of commerce, and flying over the sea to other cities, while the season lasts; he shall be received in market-places and harbours and public buildings, near the city but outside, by those magistrates who are appointed to superintend these matters; and they shall take care that a stranger, whoever he be, duly receives justice; but he shall not be allowed to make any innovation. they shall hold the intercourse with him which is necessary, and this shall be as little as possible. the second kind is just a spectator who comes to see with his eyes and hear with his ears the festivals of the muses; such ought to have entertainment provided them at the temples by hospitable persons, and the priests and ministers of the temples should see and attend to them. but they should not remain more than a reasonable time; let them see and hear that for the sake of which they came, and then go away, neither having suffered nor done any harm. the priests shall be their judges, if any of them receive or do any wrong up to the sum of fifty drachmae, but if any greater charge be brought, in such cases the suit shall come before the wardens of the agora. the third kind of stranger is he who comes on some public business from another land, and is to be received with public honours. he is to be received only by the generals and commanders of horse and foot, and the host by whom he is entertained, in conjunction with the prytanes, shall have the sole charge of what concerns him. there is a fourth class of persons answering to our spectators, who come from another land to look at ours. in the first place, such visits will be rare, and the visitor should be at least fifty years of age; he may possibly be wanting to see something that is rich and rare in other states, or himself to show something in like manner to another city. let such an one, then, go unbidden to the doors of the wise and rich, being one of them himself: let him go, for example, to the house of the superintendent of education, confident that he is a fitting guest of such a host, or let him go to the house of some of those who have gained the prize of virtue and hold discourse with them, both learning from them, and also teaching them; and when he has seen and heard all, he shall depart, as a friend taking leave of friends, and be honoured by them with gifts and suitable tributes of respect. these are the customs, according to which our city should receive all strangers of either sex who come from other countries, and should send forth her own citizens, showing respect to zeus, the god of hospitality, not forbidding strangers at meals and sacrifices, as is the manner which prevails among the children of the nile, nor driving them away by savage proclamations. when a man becomes surety, let him give the security in a distinct form, acknowledging the whole transaction in a written document, and in the presence of not less than three witnesses if the sum be under a thousand drachmae, and of not less than five witnesses if the sum be above a thousand drachmae. the agent of a dishonest or untrustworthy seller shall himself be responsible; both the agent and the principal shall be equally liable. if a person wishes to find anything in the house of another, he shall enter naked, or wearing only a short tunic and without a girdle, having first taken an oath by the customary gods that he expects to find it there; he shall then make his search, and the other shall throw open his house and allow him to search things both sealed and unsealed. and if a person will not allow the searcher to make his search, he who is prevented shall go to law with him, estimating the value of the goods after which he is searching, and if the other be convicted he shall pay twice the value of the article. if the master be absent from home, the dwellers in the house shall let him search the unsealed property, and on the sealed property the searcher shall set another seal, and shall appoint any one whom he likes to guard them during five days; and if the master of the house be absent during a longer time, he shall take with him the wardens of the city, and so make his search, opening the sealed property as well as the unsealed, and then, together with the members of the family and the wardens of the city, he shall seal them up again as they were before. there shall be a limit of time in the case of disputed things, and he who has had possession of them during a certain time shall no longer be liable to be disturbed. as to houses and lands there can be no dispute in this state of ours; but if a man has any other possessions which he has used and openly shown in the city and in the agora and in the temples, and no one has put in a claim to them, and some one says that he was looking for them during this time, and the possessor is proved to have made no concealment, if they have continued for a year, the one having the goods and the other looking for them, the claim of the seeker shall not be allowed after the expiration of the year; or if he does not use or show the lost property in the market or in the city, but only in the country, and no one offers himself as the owner during five years, at the expiration of the five years the claim shall be barred for ever after; or if he uses them in the city but within the house, then the appointed time of claiming the goods shall be three years, or ten years if he has them in the country in private. and if he has them in another land, there shall be no limit of time or prescription, but whenever the owner finds them he may claim them. if any one prevents another by force from being present at a trial, whether a principal party or his witnesses; if the person prevented be a slave, whether his own or belonging to another, the suit shall be incomplete and invalid; but if he who is prevented be a freeman, besides the suit being incomplete, the other who has prevented him shall be imprisoned for a year, and shall be prosecuted for kidnapping by any one who pleases. and if any one hinders by force a rival competitor in gymnastic or music, or any other sort of contest, from being present at the contest, let him who has a mind inform the presiding judges, and they shall liberate him who is desirous of competing; and if they are not able, and he who hinders the other from competing wins the prize, then they shall give the prize of victory to him who is prevented, and inscribe him as the conqueror in any temples which he pleases; and he who hinders the other shall not be permitted to make any offering or inscription having reference to that contest, and in any case he shall be liable for damages, whether he be defeated or whether he conquer. if any one knowingly receives anything which has been stolen, he shall undergo the same punishment as the thief, and if a man receives an exile he shall be punished with death. every man should regard the friend and enemy of the state as his own friend and enemy; and if any one makes peace or war with another on his own account, and without the authority of the state, he, like the receiver of the exile, shall undergo the penalty of death. and if any fraction of the city declare war or peace against any, the generals shall indict the authors of this proceeding, and if they are convicted death shall be the penalty. those who serve their country ought to serve without receiving gifts, and there ought to be no excusing or approving the saying, 'men should receive gifts as the reward of good, but not of evil deeds'; for to know which we are doing, and to stand fast by our knowledge, is no easy matter. the safest course is to obey the law which says, 'do no service for a bribe,' and let him who disobeys, if he be convicted, simply die. with a view to taxation, for various reasons, every man ought to have had his property valued: and the tribesmen should likewise bring a register of the yearly produce to the wardens of the country, that in this way there may be two valuations; and the public officers may use annually whichever on consideration they deem the best, whether they prefer to take a certain portion of the whole value, or of the annual revenue, after subtracting what is paid to the common tables. touching offerings to the gods, a moderate man should observe moderation in what he offers. now the land and the hearth of the house of all men is sacred to all gods; wherefore let no man dedicate them a second time to the gods. gold and silver, whether possessed by private persons or in temples, are in other cities provocative of envy, and ivory, the product of a dead body, is not a proper offering; brass and iron, again, are instruments of war; but of wood let a man bring what offering he likes, provided it be a single block, and in like manner of stone, to the public temples; of woven work let him not offer more than one woman can execute in a month. white is a colour suitable to the gods, especially in woven works, but dyes should only be used for the adornments of war. the most divine of gifts are birds and images, and they should be such as one painter can execute in a single day. and let all other offerings follow a similar rule. now that the whole city has been divided into parts of which the nature and number have been described, and laws have been given about all the most important contracts as far as this was possible, the next thing will be to have justice done. the first of the courts shall consist of elected judges, who shall be chosen by the plaintiff and the defendant in common: these shall be called arbiters rather than judges. and in the second court there shall be judges of the villages and tribes corresponding to the twelvefold division of the land, and before these the litigants shall go to contend for greater damages, if the suit be not decided before the first judges; the defendant, if he be defeated the second time, shall pay a fifth more than the damages mentioned in the indictment; and if he find fault with his judges and would try a third time, let him carry the suit before the select judges, and if he be again defeated, let him pay the whole of the damages and half as much again. and the plaintiff, if when defeated before the first judges he persist in going on to the second, shall if he wins receive in addition to the damages a fifth part more, and if defeated he shall pay a like sum; but if he is not satisfied with the previous decision, and will insist on proceeding to a third court, then if he win he shall receive from the defendant the amount of the damages and, as i said before, half as much again, and the plaintiff, if he lose, shall pay half of the damages claimed. now the assignment by lot of judges to courts and the completion of the number of them, and the appointment of servants to the different magistrates, and the times at which the several causes should be heard, and the votings and delays, and all the things that necessarily concern suits, and the order of causes, and the time in which answers have to be put in and parties are to appear--of these and other things akin to these we have indeed already spoken, but there is no harm in repeating what is right twice or thrice: all lesser and easier matters which the elder legislator has omitted may be supplied by the younger one. private courts will be sufficiently regulated in this way, and the public and state courts, and those which the magistrates must use in the administration of their several offices, exist in many other states. many very respectable institutions of this sort have been framed by good men, and from them the guardians of the law may by reflection derive what is necessary for the order of our new state, considering and correcting them, and bringing them to the test of experience, until every detail appears to be satisfactorily determined; and then putting the final seal upon them, and making them irreversible, they shall use them for ever afterwards. as to what relates to the silence of judges and the abstinence from words of evil omen and the reverse, and the different notions of the just and good and honourable which exist in our own as compared with other states, they have been partly mentioned already, and another part of them will be mentioned hereafter as we draw near the end. to all these matters he who would be an equal judge shall justly look, and he shall possess writings about them that he may learn them. for of all kinds of knowledge the knowledge of good laws has the greatest power of improving the learner; otherwise there would be no meaning in the divine and admirable law possessing a name akin to mind (nous, nomos). and of all other words, such as the praises and censures of individuals which occur in poetry and also in prose, whether written down or uttered in daily conversation, whether men dispute about them in the spirit of contention or weakly assent to them, as is often the case--of all these the one sure test is the writings of the legislator, which the righteous judge ought to have in his mind as the antidote of all other words, and thus make himself and the city stand upright, procuring for the good the continuance and increase of justice, and for the bad, on the other hand, a conversion from ignorance and intemperance, and in general from all unrighteousness, as far as their evil minds can be healed, but to those whose web of life is in reality finished, giving death, which is the only remedy for souls in their condition, as i may say truly again and again. and such judges and chiefs of judges will be worthy of receiving praise from the whole city. when the suits of the year are completed the following laws shall regulate their execution: in the first place, the judge shall assign to the party who wins the suit the whole property of him who loses, with the exception of mere necessaries, and the assignment shall be made through the herald immediately after each decision in the hearing of the judges; and when the month arrives following the month in which the courts are sitting, (unless the gainer of the suit has been previously satisfied) the court shall follow up the case, and hand over to the winner the goods of the loser; but if they find that he has not the means of paying, and the sum deficient is not less than a drachma, the insolvent person shall not have any right of going to law with any other man until he have satisfied the debt of the winning party; but other persons shall still have the right of bringing suits against him. and if any one after he is condemned refuses to acknowledge the authority which condemned him, let the magistrates who are thus deprived of their authority bring him before the court of the guardians of the law, and if he be cast, let him be punished with death, as a subverter of the whole state and of the laws. thus a man is born and brought up, and after this manner he begets and brings up his own children, and has his share of dealings with other men, and suffers if he has done wrong to any one, and receives satisfaction if he has been wronged, and so at length in due time he grows old under the protection of the laws, and his end comes in the order of nature. concerning the dead of either sex, the religious ceremonies which may fittingly be performed, whether appertaining to the gods of the under-world or of this, shall be decided by the interpreters with absolute authority. their sepulchres are not to be in places which are fit for cultivation, and there shall be no monuments in such spots, either large or small, but they shall occupy that part of the country which is naturally adapted for receiving and concealing the bodies of the dead with as little hurt as possible to the living. no man, living or dead, shall deprive the living of the sustenance which the earth, their foster-parent, is naturally inclined to provide for them. and let not the mound be piled higher than would be the work of five men completed in five days; nor shall the stone which is placed over the spot be larger than would be sufficient to receive the praises of the dead included in four heroic lines. nor shall the laying out of the dead in the house continue for a longer time than is sufficient to distinguish between him who is in a trance only and him who is really dead, and speaking generally, the third day after death will be a fair time for carrying out the body to the sepulchre. now we must believe the legislator when he tells us that the soul is in all respects superior to the body, and that even in life what makes each one of us to be what we are is only the soul; and that the body follows us about in the likeness of each of us, and therefore, when we are dead, the bodies of the dead are quite rightly said to be our shades or images; for the true and immortal being of each one of us which is called the soul goes on her way to other gods, before them to give an account--which is an inspiring hope to the good, but very terrible to the bad, as the laws of our fathers tell us; and they also say that not much can be done in the way of helping a man after he is dead. but the living--he should be helped by all his kindred, that while in life he may be the holiest and justest of men, and after death may have no great sins to be punished in the world below. if this be true, a man ought not to waste his substance under the idea that all this lifeless mass of flesh which is in process of burial is connected with him; he should consider that the son, or brother, or the beloved one, whoever he may be, whom he thinks he is laying in the earth, has gone away to complete and fulfil his own destiny, and that his duty is rightly to order the present, and to spend moderately on the lifeless altar of the gods below. but the legislator does not intend moderation to be taken in the sense of meanness. let the law, then, be as follows: the expenditure on the entire funeral of him who is of the highest class, shall not exceed five minae; and for him who is of the second class, three minae, and for him who is of the third class, two minae, and for him who is of the fourth class, one mina, will be a fair limit of expense. the guardians of the law ought to take especial care of the different ages of life, whether childhood, or manhood, or any other age. and at the end of all, let there be some one guardian of the law presiding, who shall be chosen by the friends of the deceased to superintend, and let it be glory to him to manage with fairness and moderation what relates to the dead, and a discredit to him if they are not well managed. let the laying out and other ceremonies be in accordance with custom, but to the statesman who adopts custom as his law we must give way in certain particulars. it would be monstrous for example that he should command any man to weep or abstain from weeping over the dead; but he may forbid cries of lamentation, and not allow the voice of the mourner to be heard outside the house; also, he may forbid the bringing of the dead body into the open streets, or the processions of mourners in the streets, and may require that before daybreak they should be outside the city. let these, then, be our laws relating to such matters, and let him who obeys be free from penalty; but he who disobeys even a single guardian of the law shall be punished by them all with a fitting penalty. other modes of burial, or again the denial of burial, which is to be refused in the case of robbers of temples and parricides and the like, have been devised and are embodied in the preceding laws, so that now our work of legislation is pretty nearly at an end; but in all cases the end does not consist in doing something or acquiring something or establishing something--the end will be attained and finally accomplished, when we have provided for the perfect and lasting continuance of our institutions; until then our creation is incomplete. cleinias: that is very good, stranger; but i wish you would tell me more clearly what you mean. athenian: o cleinias, many things of old time were well said and sung; and the saying about the fates was one of them. cleinias: what is it? athenian: the saying that lachesis or the giver of the lots is the first of them, and that clotho or the spinster is the second of them, and that atropos or the unchanging one is the third of them; and that she is the preserver of the things which we have spoken, and which have been compared in a figure to things woven by fire, they both (i.e. atropos and the fire) producing the quality of unchangeableness. i am speaking of the things which in a state and government give not only health and salvation to the body, but law, or rather preservation of the law, in the soul; and, if i am not mistaken, this seems to be still wanting in our laws: we have still to see how we can implant in them this irreversible nature. cleinias: it will be no small matter if we can only discover how such a nature can be implanted in anything. athenian: but it certainly can be; so much i clearly see. cleinias: then let us not think of desisting until we have imparted this quality to our laws; for it is ridiculous, after a great deal of labour has been spent, to place a thing at last on an insecure foundation. athenian: i approve of your suggestion, and am quite of the same mind with you. cleinias: very good: and now what, according to you, is to be the salvation of our government and of our laws, and how is it to be effected? athenian: were we not saying that there must be in our city a council which was to be of this sort: the ten oldest guardians of the law, and all those who have obtained prizes of virtue, were to meet in the same assembly, and the council was also to include those who had visited foreign countries in the hope of hearing something that might be of use in the preservation of the laws, and who, having come safely home, and having been tested in these same matters, had proved themselves to be worthy to take part in the assembly--each of the members was to select some young man of not less than thirty years of age, he himself judging in the first instance whether the young man was worthy by nature and education, and then suggesting him to the others, and if he seemed to them also to be worthy they were to adopt him; but if not, the decision at which they arrived was to be kept a secret from the citizens at large, and, more especially, from the rejected candidate. the meeting of the council was to be held early in the morning, when everybody was most at leisure from all other business, whether public or private--was not something of this sort said by us before? cleinias: true. athenian: then, returning to the council, i would say further, that if we let it down to be the anchor of the state, our city, having everything which is suitable to her, will preserve all that we wish to preserve. cleinias: what do you mean? athenian: now is the time for me to speak the truth in all earnestness. cleinias: well said, and i hope that you will fulfil your intention. athenian: know, cleinias, that everything, in all that it does, has a natural saviour, as of an animal the soul and the head are the chief saviours. cleinias: once more, what do you mean? athenian: the well-being of those two is obviously the preservation of every living thing. cleinias: how is that? athenian: the soul, besides other things, contains mind, and the head, besides other things, contains sight and hearing; and the mind, mingling with the noblest of the senses, and becoming one with them, may be truly called the salvation of all. cleinias: yes, quite so. athenian: yes, indeed; but with what is that intellect concerned which, mingling with the senses, is the salvation of ships in storms as well as in fair weather? in a ship, when the pilot and the sailors unite their perceptions with the piloting mind, do they not save both themselves and their craft? cleinias: very true. athenian: we do not want many illustrations about such matters: what aim would the general of an army, or what aim would a physician propose to himself, if he were seeking to attain salvation? cleinias: very good. athenian: does not the general aim at victory and superiority in war, and do not the physician and his assistants aim at producing health in the body? cleinias: certainly. athenian: and a physician who is ignorant about the body, that is to say, who knows not that which we just now called health, or a general who knows not victory, or any others who are ignorant of the particulars of the arts which we mentioned, cannot be said to have understanding about any of these matters. cleinias: they cannot. athenian: and what would you say of the state? if a person proves to be ignorant of the aim to which the statesman should look, ought he, in the first place, to be called a ruler at all; and further, will he ever be able to preserve that of which he does not even know the aim? cleinias: impossible. athenian: and therefore, if our settlement of the country is to be perfect, we ought to have some institution, which, as i was saying, will tell what is the aim of the state, and will inform us how we are to attain this, and what law or what man will advise us to that end. any state which has no such institution is likely to be devoid of mind and sense, and in all her actions will proceed by mere chance. cleinias: very true. athenian: in which, then, of the parts or institutions of the state is any such guardian power to be found? can we say? cleinias: i am not quite certain, stranger; but i have a suspicion that you are referring to the assembly which you just now said was to meet at night. athenian: you understand me perfectly, cleinias; and we must assume, as the argument implies, that this council possesses all virtue; and the beginning of virtue is not to make mistakes by guessing many things, but to look steadily at one thing, and on this to fix all our aims. cleinias: quite true. athenian: then now we shall see why there is nothing wonderful in states going astray--the reason is that their legislators have such different aims; nor is there anything wonderful in some laying down as their rule of justice, that certain individuals should bear rule in the state, whether they be good or bad, and others that the citizens should be rich, not caring whether they are the slaves of other men or not. the tendency of others, again, is towards freedom; and some legislate with a view to two things at once--they want to be at the same time free and the lords of other states; but the wisest men, as they deem themselves to be, look to all these and similar aims, and there is no one of them which they exclusively honour, and to which they would have all things look. cleinias: then, stranger, our former assertion will hold; for we were saying that laws generally should look to one thing only; and this, as we admitted, was rightly said to be virtue. athenian: yes. cleinias: and we said that virtue was of four kinds? athenian: quite true. cleinias: and that mind was the leader of the four, and that to her the three other virtues and all other things ought to have regard? athenian: you follow me capitally, cleinias, and i would ask you to follow me to the end, for we have already said that the mind of the pilot, the mind of the physician and of the general look to that one thing to which they ought to look; and now we may turn to mind political, of which, as of a human creature, we will ask a question: o wonderful being, and to what are you looking? the physician is able to tell his single aim in life, but you, the superior, as you declare yourself to be, of all intelligent beings, when you are asked are not able to tell. can you, megillus, and you, cleinias, say distinctly what is the aim of mind political, in return for the many explanations of things which i have given you? cleinias: we cannot, stranger. athenian: well, but ought we not to desire to see it, and to see where it is to be found? cleinias: for example, where? athenian: for example, we were saying that there are four kinds of virtue, and as there are four of them, each of them must be one. cleinias: certainly. athenian: and further, all four of them we call one; for we say that courage is virtue, and that prudence is virtue, and the same of the two others, as if they were in reality not many but one, that is, virtue. cleinias: quite so. athenian: there is no difficulty in seeing in what way the two differ from one another, and have received two names, and so of the rest. but there is more difficulty in explaining why we call these two and the rest of them by the single name of virtue. cleinias: how do you mean? athenian: i have no difficulty in explaining what i mean. let us distribute the subject into questions and answers. cleinias: once more, what do you mean? athenian: ask me what is that one thing which i call virtue, and then again speak of as two, one part being courage and the other wisdom. i will tell you how that occurs: one of them has to do with fear; in this the beasts also participate, and quite young children--i mean courage; for a courageous temper is a gift of nature and not of reason. but without reason there never has been, or is, or will be a wise and understanding soul; it is of a different nature. cleinias: that is true. athenian: i have now told you in what way the two are different, and do you in return tell me in what way they are one and the same. suppose that i ask you in what way the four are one, and when you have answered me, you will have a right to ask of me in return in what way they are four; and then let us proceed to enquire whether in the case of things which have a name and also a definition to them, true knowledge consists in knowing the name only and not the definition. can he who is good for anything be ignorant of all this without discredit where great and glorious truths are concerned? cleinias: i suppose not. athenian: and is there anything greater to the legislator and the guardian of the law, and to him who thinks that he excels all other men in virtue, and has won the palm of excellence, than these very qualities of which we are now speaking--courage, temperance, wisdom, justice? cleinias: how can there be anything greater? athenian: and ought not the interpreters, the teachers, the lawgivers, the guardians of the other citizens, to excel the rest of mankind, and perfectly to show him who desires to learn and know or whose evil actions require to be punished and reproved, what is the nature of virtue and vice? or shall some poet who has found his way into the city, or some chance person who pretends to be an instructor of youth, show himself to be better than him who has won the prize for every virtue? and can we wonder that when the guardians are not adequate in speech or action, and have no adequate knowledge of virtue, the city being unguarded should experience the common fate of cities in our day? cleinias: wonder! no. athenian: well, then, must we do as we said? or can we give our guardians a more precise knowledge of virtue in speech and action than the many have? or is there any way in which our city can be made to resemble the head and senses of rational beings because possessing such a guardian power? cleinias: what, stranger, is the drift of your comparison? athenian: do we not see that the city is the trunk, and are not the younger guardians, who are chosen for their natural gifts, placed in the head of the state, having their souls all full of eyes, with which they look about the whole city? they keep watch and hand over their perceptions to the memory, and inform the elders of all that happens in the city; and those whom we compared to the mind, because they have many wise thoughts--that is to say, the old men--take counsel, and making use of the younger men as their ministers, and advising with them--in this way both together truly preserve the whole state: shall this or some other be the order of our state? are all our citizens to be equal in acquirements, or shall there be special persons among them who have received a more careful training and education? cleinias: that they should be equal, my good sir, is impossible. athenian: then we ought to proceed to some more exact training than any which has preceded. cleinias: certainly. athenian: and must not that of which we are in need be the one to which we were just now alluding? cleinias: very true. athenian: did we not say that the workman or guardian, if he be perfect in every respect, ought not only to be able to see the many aims, but he should press onward to the one? this he should know, and knowing, order all things with a view to it. cleinias: true. athenian: and can any one have a more exact way of considering or contemplating anything, than the being able to look at one idea gathered from many different things? cleinias: perhaps not. athenian: not 'perhaps not,' but 'certainly not,' my good sir, is the right answer. there never has been a truer method than this discovered by any man. cleinias: i bow to your authority, stranger; let us proceed in the way which you propose. athenian: then, as would appear, we must compel the guardians of our divine state to perceive, in the first place, what that principle is which is the same in all the four--the same, as we affirm, in courage and in temperance, and in justice and in prudence, and which, being one, we call as we ought, by the single name of virtue. to this, my friends, we will, if you please, hold fast, and not let go until we have sufficiently explained what that is to which we are to look, whether to be regarded as one, or as a whole, or as both, or in whatever way. are we likely ever to be in a virtuous condition, if we cannot tell whether virtue is many, or four, or one? certainly, if we take counsel among ourselves, we shall in some way contrive that this principle has a place amongst us; but if you have made up your mind that we should let the matter alone, we will. cleinias: we must not, stranger, by the god of strangers i swear that we must not, for in our opinion you speak most truly; but we should like to know how you will accomplish your purpose. athenian: wait a little before you ask; and let us, first of all, be quite agreed with one another that the purpose has to be accomplished. cleinias: certainly, it ought to be, if it can be. athenian: well, and about the good and the honourable, are we to take the same view? are our guardians only to know that each of them is many, or also how and in what way they are one? cleinias: they must consider also in what sense they are one. athenian: and are they to consider only, and to be unable to set forth what they think? cleinias: certainly not; that would be the state of a slave. athenian: and may not the same be said of all good things--that the true guardians of the laws ought to know the truth about them, and to be able to interpret them in words, and carry them out in action, judging of what is and of what is not well, according to nature? cleinias: certainly. athenian: is not the knowledge of the gods which we have set forth with so much zeal one of the noblest sorts of knowledge--to know that they are, and know how great is their power, as far as in man lies? we do indeed excuse the mass of the citizens, who only follow the voice of the laws, but we refuse to admit as guardians any who do not labour to obtain every possible evidence that there is respecting the gods; our city is forbidden and not allowed to choose as a guardian of the law, or to place in the select order of virtue, him who is not an inspired man, and has not laboured at these things. cleinias: it is certainly just, as you say, that he who is indolent about such matters or incapable should be rejected, and that things honourable should be put away from him. athenian: are we assured that there are two things which lead men to believe in the gods, as we have already stated? cleinias: what are they? athenian: one is the argument about the soul, which has been already mentioned--that it is the eldest and most divine of all things, to which motion attaining generation gives perpetual existence; the other was an argument from the order of the motion of the stars, and of all things under the dominion of the mind which ordered the universe. if a man look upon the world not lightly or ignorantly, there was never any one so godless who did not experience an effect opposite to that which the many imagine. for they think that those who handle these matters by the help of astronomy, and the accompanying arts of demonstration, may become godless, because they see, as far as they can see, things happening by necessity, and not by an intelligent will accomplishing good. cleinias: but what is the fact? athenian: just the opposite, as i said, of the opinion which once prevailed among men, that the sun and stars are without soul. even in those days men wondered about them, and that which is now ascertained was then conjectured by some who had a more exact knowledge of them--that if they had been things without soul, and had no mind, they could never have moved with numerical exactness so wonderful; and even at that time some ventured to hazard the conjecture that mind was the orderer of the universe. but these same persons again mistaking the nature of the soul, which they conceived to be younger and not older than the body, once more overturned the world, or rather, i should say, themselves; for the bodies which they saw moving in heaven all appeared to be full of stones, and earth, and many other lifeless substances, and to these they assigned the causes of all things. such studies gave rise to much atheism and perplexity, and the poets took occasion to be abusive--comparing the philosophers to she-dogs uttering vain howlings, and talking other nonsense of the same sort. but now, as i said, the case is reversed. cleinias: how so? athenian: no man can be a true worshipper of the gods who does not know these two principles--that the soul is the eldest of all things which are born, and is immortal and rules over all bodies; moreover, as i have now said several times, he who has not contemplated the mind of nature which is said to exist in the stars, and gone through the previous training, and seen the connexion of music with these things, and harmonized them all with laws and institutions, is not able to give a reason of such things as have a reason. and he who is unable to acquire this in addition to the ordinary virtues of a citizen, can hardly be a good ruler of a whole state; but he should be the subordinate of other rulers. wherefore, cleinias and megillus, let us consider whether we may not add to all the other laws which we have discussed this further one--that the nocturnal assembly of the magistrates, which has also shared in the whole scheme of education proposed by us, shall be a guard set according to law for the salvation of the state. shall we propose this? cleinias: certainly, my good friend, we will if the thing is in any degree possible. athenian: let us make a common effort to gain such an object; for i too will gladly share in the attempt. of these matters i have had much experience, and have often considered them, and i dare say that i shall be able to find others who will also help. cleinias: i agree, stranger, that we should proceed along the road in which god is guiding us; and how we can proceed rightly has now to be investigated and explained. athenian: o megillus and cleinias, about these matters we cannot legislate further until the council is constituted; when that is done, then we will determine what authority they shall have of their own; but the explanation of how this is all to be ordered would only be given rightly in a long discourse. cleinias: what do you mean, and what new thing is this? athenian: in the first place, a list would have to be made out of those who by their ages and studies and dispositions and habits are well fitted for the duty of a guardian. in the next place, it will not be easy for them to discover themselves what they ought to learn, or become the disciple of one who has already made the discovery. furthermore, to write down the times at which, and during which, they ought to receive the several kinds of instruction, would be a vain thing; for the learners themselves do not know what is learned to advantage until the knowledge which is the result of learning has found a place in the soul of each. and so these details, although they could not be truly said to be secret, might be said to be incapable of being stated beforehand, because when stated they would have no meaning. cleinias: what then are we to do, stranger, under these circumstances? athenian: as the proverb says, the answer is no secret, but open to all of us: we must risk the whole on the chance of throwing, as they say, thrice six or thrice ace, and i am willing to share with you the danger by stating and explaining to you my views about education and nurture, which is the question coming to the surface again. the danger is not a slight or ordinary one, and i would advise you, cleinias, in particular, to see to the matter; for if you order rightly the city of the magnetes, or whatever name god may give it, you will obtain the greatest glory; or at any rate you will be thought the most courageous of men in the estimation of posterity. dear companions, if this our divine assembly can only be established, to them we will hand over the city; none of the present company of legislators, as i may call them, would hesitate about that. and the state will be perfected and become a waking reality, which a little while ago we attempted to create as a dream and in idea only, mingling together reason and mind in one image, in the hope that our citizens might be duly mingled and rightly educated; and being educated, and dwelling in the citadel of the land, might become perfect guardians, such as we have never seen in all our previous life, by reason of the saving virtue which is in them. megillus: dear cleinias, after all that has been said, either we must detain the stranger, and by supplications and in all manner of ways make him share in the foundation of the city, or we must give up the undertaking. cleinias: very true, megillus; and you must join with me in detaining him. megillus: i will. [illustration: thomas davis] thomas davis selections from his prose and poetry with an introduction by t. w. rolleston, m.a. new york: frederick a. stokes company publishers library of irish literature _general editors_: alfred perceval graves, m.a. william magennis, m.a. douglas hyde, ll.d. (dublin). . thomas davis. selections from his prose and poetry. edited by t. w. rolleston, m.a. (dublin). . wild sports of the west. w. h. maxwell. edited by the earl of dunraven. . legends of saints and sinners from the irish. edited by douglas hyde, ll.d. (dublin). . humours of irish life. edited by charles l. graves, m.a. (oxon). . irish orators and oratory. edited by t. m. kettle, national university of ireland. . the book of irish poetry. edited by alfred perceval graves, m.a. (dublin). other volumes in preparation. each crown vo. cloth, with frontispiece net $ . introduction. in the present edition of thomas davis it is designed to offer a selection of his writings more fully representative than has hitherto appeared in one volume. the book opens with the best of his historical studies--his masterly vindication of the much-maligned irish parliament of james ii.[ ] next follows a selection of his literary, historical and political articles from _the nation_ and other sources, and, finally, we present a selection from his poems, containing, it is hoped, everything of high and permanent value which he wrote in that medium. the "address to the historical society" and the essay on "udalism and feudalism," which were reprinted in the edition of davis's prose writings published by walter scott in , are here omitted--the former because it seemed possible to fill with more valuable and mature work the space it would have taken, and the latter because the cause which it was written to support has in our day been practically won; udalism will inevitably be the universal type of land-tenure in ireland, and the real problem which we have before us is not how to win but how to make use of the institution, a matter with which davis, in this essay, does not concern himself. the life of thomas davis has been written by his friend and colleague, sir charles gavan duffy, and an excellent abridgment of it appears as a volume in the "new irish library." in the latter easily available form it may be hoped that there are few irishmen who have not made themselves acquainted with it. it is not, therefore, necessary to deal with it here in much detail. davis was born in mallow on october th, . his father, who came of a family originally welsh, but long settled in buckinghamshire, had been a surgeon in the royal artillery. his mother, mary atkins, came of a cromwellian family settled in the county cork. it does not seem an altogether hopeful kind of ancestry for an irish nationalist, and his family were, as a matter of fact, altogether of the other way of thinking. but the fact that his great-grandmother, on the maternal side, was a daughter of the o'sullivan beare may have had a counteracting influence, if not through the physical channel of heredity, at least through the poet's imagination. as a child, davis was delicate in health, sensitive, dreamy, awkward, and passed for a dunce. it was not until he had entered trinity college that the passion for study possessed him. this passion had manifestly been kindled, in the first instance, by the flame of patriotism, but how and when he first came to break loose from the traditional politics of his family we have no means of knowing, unless a gleam of light is thrown on the matter by a saying of his from a speech at conciliation hall:--"i was brought up in a mixed seminary,[ ] where i learned to know, and knowing to love, my countrymen." at the university he sought no academic distinctions, but read omnivorously. history, philosophy, economics, and ethics were the subjects into which he flung himself with ardour, and which, in after days, he was continually seeking to turn to the uses of his country. by the time he had left college and was called to the bar ( ) he had disciplined himself by thought and study, and was a very different being from the dreamy and backward youth described for us by the candid friends of his schooldays. a dreamer, indeed, he always was, but he had learned from bishop butler, whom he reverenced profoundly and spoke of as "the copernicus of ethics," that there is no practice more fatal to moral strength than dreaming divorced from action. some concrete act, some definite thing to be done, was now always in his mind, but always, it may be added, as the realisation of some principle arrived at by serious and accurate thinking. he had acquired clear convictions, his powers of application were enormous, he had a boundless fertility of invention, and was manifestly marked out as a leader of men. it is interesting to go through the pages of davis's essays and to note how many of his practical suggestions for work to be done in ireland have been taken up with success, especially in the direction of music and poetry, of the gaelic language, and of the study of irish archaeology and the protection of its remains. but a new davis would mark with keener interest the many tasks which yet remain to be taken in hand. his connection with the bar was little more than nominal; from the beginning, the serious work of his life seemed destined to be journalism. after some experiments in various directions, he, with gavan duffy and john blake dillon, during a walk in the phoenix park in the spring of , decided to establish a new weekly journal, to be entitled, on davis's suggestion, _the nation_. its purpose, which it was afterwards to fulfil so nobly, was admirably expressed in its motto, taken from a saying of stephen woulfe: "to create and foster public opinion in ireland, and to make it racy of the soil." davis's was the suggestion of making national poems and ballads a prominent feature of the journal--the feature by which it became best known and did, perhaps, its most impressive, if not its most valuable, work. his "lament for owen roe," which appeared in the sixth number, worked in ireland like an electric shock, and woke a sleeping faculty to life and action. henceforth davis's public life was bound up with the _nation_. into this channel he threw all his powers. what kind of influence he exerted from that post of vantage the pages of this book will tell. davis was naturally a member of o'connell's repeal association, but took no prominent part in its proceedings, except on one momentous occasion on which we must dwell for a while. the debate was on the subject of peel's bill for the establishment of a large scheme of non-sectarian education in ireland. of this measure sir charles duffy writes:-- "a majority of the catholic bishops approved of the general design, objecting to certain details. all the barristers and country gentlemen in the association, and the middle class generally, supported it. to davis it was like the unhoped-for realization of a dream. to educate the young men of the middle class and of both races, and to educate them together, that prejudice and bigotry might be killed in the bud, was one of the projects nearest his heart. it would strengthen the soul of ireland with knowledge, he said, and knit the creeds in liberal and trusting friendship."[ ] but o'connell, though he had previously favoured the principle of mixed education, now saw a chance of flinging down a challenge to the "young irelanders" from a vantage-ground of immense tactical value. he threw his whole weight against the proposal, taunted and interrupted its supporters, and seemed determined at any cost to wreck the measure on which such high hopes had been set. the emotion which davis felt, and which caused him to burst into tears in the midst of the debate, seemed to some of his friends at the time over-strained. but he was not the first strong man from whom public calamities have drawn tears; and assuredly if ever there were cause for tears, davis had reason to shed them then. more, perhaps, than any man present, he realised the fateful nature of the decision which was being made. he knew that one of the governing facts about irish public life is the existence in the country of two races who remain life-long strangers to each other. catholic and protestant present to each other a familiar front, but behind the surface of each is a dark background which in later life, when associations, and often prejudices, have been formed, the other can rarely penetrate and rarely wishes to do so. it was davis's belief that if the young people of ireland were to be permanently segregated from childhood to manhood in different schools, different universities, where early friendships, the most intimate and familiar of any, could never be made, and ideas never interchanged except through public controversy, the barrier between the two irish races would be infinitely difficult to break down, and no scheme of irish government could be conceived which would not seem like a triumph to one of them and bondage to the other. the views of the young irelanders did not prevail, and ireland as a nation has paid the penalty for two generations, and will probably pay it for many a day to come. it may, of course, be argued that religious interests are paramount, and that these are incompatible with a scheme of mixed education. this is not the place to debate such a question, nor can anyone quarrel with a decision arrived at on such grounds. but let it be arrived at with a clear understanding of the certain consequences, and let it be admitted that when davis saw the wreck of the scheme for united education he felt truly that a long and perhaps, for many generations, irretrievable step was being taken away from the road to nationhood. but after this despondent reflection, let us cheer ourselves by setting the proud and moving words with which duffy concludes his account of the transactions in the _life of davis_:-- "i have not tacked to any transaction in this narrative the moral which it suggests; the thoughtful reader prefers to draw his own conclusions. but for once i ask those to whom this book is dedicated to note the conduct of catholic young men in a mortal contest. the hereditary leader of the people, sure to be backed by the whole force of the unreflecting masses, and supported on this occasion by the bulk of the national clergy--a man of genius, an historic man wielding an authority made august by a life's services, a solemn moral authority with which it is ridiculous to compare the purely political influence of anyone who has succeeded him as a tribune of the people--was against thomas davis, and able, no one doubted, to overwhelm him and his sympathisers in political ruin. a public career might be closed for all of us; our journal might be extinguished; we were already denounced as intriguers and infidels; it was quite certain that, by-and-by, we would be described as hirelings of the castle. but davis was right; and of all his associates, not one man flinched from his side--not one man. a crisis bringing character to a sharper test has never arisen in our history, nor can ever arise; and the conduct of these men, it seems to me, is some guarantee how their successors would act in any similar emergency." the year was loaded with disaster for ireland. it saw the defeat of the education scheme; it saw the advancing shadow of the awful calamity in which the repeal movement, the young irelanders, and everything of hope and promise that lived and moved in ireland were to perish--and it saw the death of thomas davis. he had had an attack of scarlet fever, from which he seemed to be recovering, but a relapse took place--owing, perhaps, to incautious exposure before his strength had returned--and, in the early dawn of september th, he passed away in his mother's house. the years of his life were thirty-one; his public life had lasted but for three. his funeral was marked by an extraordinary outburst of grief and affection, which was shared by men of all creeds, all classes, all political camps in ireland. no mourning, indeed, could be too deep for the withdrawal at such a moment of such a leader from the task to which he had consecrated his life. that task was far more than the winning of political independence for his country. davis united in himself, in a degree which has never been known before or since, the spirit of two great originators in irish history--the spirit of swift and the spirit of berkeley--of swift, the champion of his country against foreign oppression; of berkeley, who bade her turn her thoughts inward, who summoned her to cultivate the faculties and use the liberties she already possessed for the development of her resources and the strengthening of her national character. davis's best and most original work was educative rather than aggressive. he often wrote, as duffy says, "in a tone of strict and haughty discipline designed to make the people fit to use and fit to enjoy liberty." no one recognised more fully than he the regenerative value of political forms, but his ideal was never that of a millennium to be won by act of parliament--he was ever on the watch for some opportunity to remind his countrymen of the indispensable need of self-discipline and self-reliance, of toil, of veracity, of justice and fairness towards opponents. no one ever said sharper and sterner things to the irish people--witness his articles on "scolding mobs," on "moral force," and on the attack upon one of the jurors who had convicted o'connell at the state trial.[ ] but davis could utter hard things without wounding, for, when all is said, the dominant temper of the man was love. that, and that alone, was at the very centre of his being, and by that influence everything that came from him was irradiated and warmed. he had, as an irish patriot, unwavering faith, unquenchable hope; he had also, and above all, the charity which gave to every other faculty and attainment the supreme, the most enduring grace. t. w. rolleston. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] this work, with the inclusion of the full text of the more important of the acts of the parliament of james ii., and with an introduction by sir charles gavan duffy, was reprinted from the _dublin monthly magazine_ of by mr. fisher unwin in as the first volume of the 'new irish library.' it is now out of print. [ ] mr. mongan's school on lower mount street. [ ] "life of davis," p. . [ ] "life of davis," pp. , . i. the irish parliament of james ii. preface. this enquiry is designed to rescue eminent men and worthy acts from calumnies which were founded on the ignorance and falsehoods of the old whigs, who never felt secure until they had destroyed the character as well as the liberty of ireland. irish oppression never could rely on mere physical force for any length of time. our enormous military resources, and the large proportion of "fighting men," or men who love fighting, among our people, prohibit it. it was ever necessary to divide us by circulating extravagant stories of our crimes and our disasters, in order to poison the wells of brotherly love and patriotism in our hearts, that so many of us might range ourselves under the banner of our oppressor. calumny lives chiefly on the past and future; it corrupts history and croaks dark prophecies. never, from tyrconnell's rally down to o'connell's revival of the emancipation struggle--never, from the summons of the dungannon convention to the corporation debate on repeal, has a single bold course been proposed for ireland, that folly, disorder, and disgrace has not been foreboded. never has any great deed been done here that the alien government did not, as soon as the facts became historical, endeavour to blacken the honour of the statesmen, the wisdom of the legislators, or the valour of the soldiers who achieved it. one of the favourite texts of these apostles of misrule was the irish government in king james's time. "there's a specimen," they said, "of what an irish government would be--unruly, rash, rapacious, and bloody." but the king, lords, and commons of , when looked at honestly, present a sight to make us proud and hopeful for ireland. attached as they were to their king, their first act was for ireland. they declared that the english parliament had not, and never had, any right to legislate for ireland, and that none, save the king and parliament of ireland, could make laws to bind ireland. in , just nine years after, while the acts of this great senate were fresh, molyneux published his _case of ireland_, that case which swift argued, and lucas urged, and flood and grattan, at the head of , volunteers, carried, and england ratified against her will. thus, then, the idea of is to be found full grown in . the pedigree of our freedom is a century older than we thought, and ireland has another parliament to be proud of. that parliament, too, established religious equality. it anticipated more than . the voluntary system had no supporters then, and that patriot senate did the next best thing: they left the tithes of the protestant people to the protestant minister, and of the catholic people to the catholic priest. pensions not exceeding £ a year were given to the catholic bishops. and no protestant prelates were deprived of stipend or honour--they held their incomes, and they sat in the parliament. they enforced perfect liberty of conscience; nor is there an act of theirs which could inform one ignorant of irish faction to what creed the majority belonged. thus for its moderation and charity this parliament is an honour and an example to the country. while on the one hand they restored the estates plundered by the cromwellians thirty-six years before, and gave compensation to all innocent persons--while they strained every nerve to exclude the english from our trade, and to secure it to the irish--while they introduced the statute of frauds, and many other sound laws, and thus showed their zeal for the peaceful and permanent welfare of the people, they were not unfit to grapple with the great military crisis. they voted large supplies; they endeavoured to make a war-navy; the leading members allowed nothing but their parliamentary duties to interfere with their recruiting, arming, and training of troops. they were no timorous pedants, who shook and made homilies when sabres flashed and cannon roared. our greatest soldiers, m'carthy and tyrconnell, and, indeed, most of the colonels of the irish regiments, sat in lords or commons;--not that the crown brought in stipendiary soldiers, but that the senate were fearless patriots, who were ready to fight as well as to plan for ireland. theirs was no qualified preference for freedom if it were lightly won--they did not prefer 'bondage with ease to strenuous liberty.' let us then add to our memory; and when a pantheon or valhalla is piled up to commemorate the names and guard the effigies of the great and good, the bright and burning genius, the haughty and faithful hearts, and the victorious hands of ireland, let not the men of that time--that time of glory and misfortune--that time of which limerick's two sieges typify the clear and dark sides--defiance and defeat of the saxon in one, trust in the saxon and ruin on the other--let not the legislators or soldiers of that great epoch be forgotten. thomas davis. july, . chapter i. a retrospect. how far the parliament which sat in dublin in was right or wrong has been much disputed. as the history of it becomes more accurately and generally known, the grounds of this dispute will be cleared. nor is it of trifling interest to determine whether a parliament, which not only exercised great influence at the time, but furnished the enactors of the penal laws with excuses, and the achievers of the revolution of with principles and a precedent, was the good or evil thing it has been called. the writers commonly quoted against it are, archbishop king, harris, leland; those in its favour, leslie, curry, plowden, and jones.[ ] of all these writers, king and lesley are alone original authorities. harris copies king, and leland copies harris, and plowden, curry, and jones rely chiefly on lesley. neither harris, leland, nor curry adds anything to our knowledge of the time. king (notwithstanding, as we shall show hereafter, his disregard of truth) is valuable as a contemporary of high rank; lesley, also a contemporary, and of unblemished character, is still more valuable. plowden is a fair and sagacious commentator; jones, a subtle and suggestive critic on those times. if, in addition, the reader will consult such authorities as the letters of lord lieutenant tyrconnell;[ ] the memoirs[ ] of james the second by himself; _histoire de la révolution par mazure_;[ ] and the pamphlets quoted in this publication, and the notes to it, he will be in a fair way towards mastering this difficult question. after all, that parliament must be judged by its own conduct. if its acts were unjust, bigoted, and rash, no excuse can save it from condemnation. if, on the other hand, it acted with firmness and loyalty towards its king--if it did much to secure the rights, the prosperity, and the honour of the nation--if, in a country where property had been turned upside down a few years before, it strove to do justice to the many, with the least possible injury to the few--if, in a country torn with religious quarrels, it endeavoured to secure liberty of conscience without alienating the ultra zealous--and, finally, if in a country in imminent danger from a powerful invader and numerous traitors, it was more intent on raising resources and checking treason than would become a parliament sitting in peace and safety, let us, while confessing its fallibility, attend to its difficulties, and do honour to its vigour and intelligence. before we mention the composition of the parliament, it will be right to run over some of the chief dates and facts which brought about the state of things that led to its being summoned. most irishmen (ourselves among the number) are only beginners at irish history, and cannot too often repeat the elements: still the beginning has been made. it is no pedantry which leads one to the english invasion for the tap-root of the transactions of the seventeenth century. four hundred years of rapacious war and wild resistance had made each believe all things ill of the other; and when england changed her creed in the sixteenth century it became certain that ireland would adhere to hers at all risks. accordingly, the reigns of the latter, and especially of the last of the tudors, witnessed unceasing war, in which an appetite for conquest was inflamed by bigotry on the english side, while the native, who had been left unaided to defend his home, was now stimulated by foreign counsels, as well as by his own feelings, to guard his altar and his conscience too. james the first found ireland half conquered by the sword; he completed the work by treachery, and the fee of five-sixths of ulster rewarded the "energy" of the british. the proceedings of strafford added large districts in the other provinces to the english possessions. still, in all these cases, as in the munster settlement under elizabeth, the bulk of the population remained on the soil. to leave the land was to die. they clung to it amid sufferings too shocking to dwell on;[ ] they clung to it under such a serfhood as made the rapacity of their conquerors interested in retaining them on the soil. they clung to it from necessity and from love. they multiplied on it with the rapidity of the reckless. yet they retained hope, the hope of restitution and vengeance. the mad ferocity of parsons and borlace hastened the outbreak of . that insurrection gave back to the native his property and his freedom, but compelled him to fight for it--first, against the loyalists; next, against the traitors; and lastly, against the republicans. after a struggle of ten years, distinguished by the ability of the council of kilkenny, and the bravery of owen roe and his followers, the irish sunk under the abilities and hosts of cromwell. those who felt his sway might well have envied the men who conquered and died in the breach of clonmel, or fell vanquished or betrayed at letterkenny and drogheda. during the insurrection of , the royal government, at once timid and tyrannical, united with the sordid capitalists of london to plunder the irish of their lands and liberty, if not to exterminate them.[ ] in order to effect this, a system of unparalleled lying was set afoot against the natives of this kingdom. the violence which naturally attended the sudden resumption of property by an ignorant, excited, and deeply wronged people, was magnified into a national propensity to throat-cutting. exaggerations the most barefaced were received throughout england. deaths, which the english-minded protestant, the rev. mr. warner, has ascertained to have been under , --reckoning deaths from hardships along with those by the sword--were rated in england at , , and by john milton at , .[ ] no wonder the english nation looked upon us as bloody savages; and no wonder they looked approvingly at the massacres and confiscations of the lord protector. but the irish deemed they were free from crime in resuming by force of arms the land which arms had taken from them; they regarded the bloodshed of ' as a deplorable result of english oppression; they fought with the hearts of resolved patriots till . the restoration of the stuarts was hailed as the restoration of their rights. they were woefully disappointed. a compromise was made between the legitimists and the republicans; the former were to resume their rank, the latter to retain their plunder, ireland was disregarded. the mockery of the court of claims restored less than one-third of the irish lands. while in the roman catholics possessed two-thirds of ireland, in they had but one-fifth[ ]. besides, the new possessors were of an opposite creed, and fortified themselves by penal laws. under such circumstances the aim of most men would be much the same, namely, to take the first opportunity of regaining their property, their national independence, and religious freedom. with reference to their legislation on the two latter points, doubts may be entertained how much should be complained of; and even those who condemn that on the first, should remember that "the re-adjustment of all private rights, after so entire a destruction of their landmarks, could only be effected by the coarse process of general rules[ ]." let us now run over a few dates, till we come to the event which gave the irish this opportunity. on the th of february, , charles the second died in the secret profession of the roman catholic faith, and his brother, james stuart, duke of york, succeeded him. james the second came to his throne with much of what usually wins popular favour. he united in his person the blood of the tudor, plantagenet, and saxon kings of england, while his scottish descent came through every king of scotland, and found its spring in the irish dalriad chief, who, embarking from ulster, overran albany. in addition, james had morals better than those of his rank and time, as much intellect as most kings, and the reputation acquired from his naval administration, graced as it was by sea-fights in which no ship was earlier in action than james's, and by at least one great victory--that over opdam--fought near yarmouth, on the rd june, . yet the difference of his creed from that of his english subjects blew these popular recollections to shivers. he tried to enforce, first, toleration; and, secondly, perfect religious equality, and intended, as many thought, the destruction of that equality, by substituting a roman catholic for a protestant supremacy; and the means he used for this purpose were such as the english parliament had pronounced unconstitutional. he impeached the corporate charters by _quo warranto_, brought to trial before judges whom he influenced, as all his predecessors had done. he invaded the customs of the universities, as having a legal right to do so. he suspended the penal laws, and punished those who disobeyed his liberal but unpopular proclamations. some noble zealots, the russells and sidneys, crossed his path in vain; but a few bold caballers, the danbys, the shaftesburys, and churchills, by urging him to despotic acts, and the people to resistance, brought on a crisis; when, availing themselves of it, they called in a foreign army and drove out james, and swore he had abdicated; expelled the prince of wales, and falsely called him bastard; made terms with william, that he should have the crown and privy purse, and they the actual government; and ended by calling their selfish and hypocritical work, "a popular and glorious revolution." it is needless to follow up james's quarrel with the university of oxford, and his unsuccessful prosecution of the seven bishops on the th of june, , who, emboldened by the prospect of a revolution, refused to read his proclamation of indulgence. from the day of their acquittal, james was lost. letters were circulated throughout england[ ] and ireland, declaring the young prince of wales (who was born th june) spurious, and containing many other falsehoods, so as to shake men's souls with rumours, and arouse popular prejudices. the army was tampered with; the nobles and clergy were in treaty with holland. james not only refused to retract his policy till it was too late; but refused, too, the offer of louis to send him french troops. similar means had been used by and against him in ireland. tyrconnell, who had replaced clarendon as lord lieutenant in , got in the charters of the corporations, reconstructed the army, and used every means of giving the roman catholics that share in the government of this country to which their numbers entitled them. and, on the other hand, the protestant nobles joined the english conspiracy, and adopted the english plan of false plots and forged letters. at length, on th november, , prince william landed at torbay with , veterans. james attempted to bear up, but his nearest and dearest, his relatives and his favourites, deserted him in the hour of his need. it seems not excessive to say that there never was a revolution in which so much ingratitude, selfishness, and meanness were displayed. there is not one great genius or untainted character eminent in it. yet it succeeded. on the th of december, william entered london; on the rd, james sailed for france; and in the february following the english convention declared he had _abdicated_. these dates are, as plowden remarks, important; for though james's flight, on the rd of december, was the legal pretence for insurrection in the summer of , yet negotiations had been going on with holland through and ,[ ] and the northern irish formed themselves into military corps, and attacked the soldiers of the crown before enniskillen, on the _first week_ in december; and on the th december the gates of derry were shut in the face of the king's troops,[ ] facts which should be remembered in judging the loyalty of the two parties. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] king's "state of the protestants." harris's "life of king william," folio, dublin, , book . leland's "history of ireland," vol. , book , chaps. and . lesley's "answer to king's state of the protestants," london, . curry's "review of the civil wars of ireland." plowden's "historical review of ireland; also history of ireland," vol. i., c. . jones's "reply to an anonymous writer from belfast, signed portia," dublin, . [ ] thorpe's mss. [ ] london, vols. to, edited by rev. j. clarke. [ ] paris, , vols. vo. [ ] spenser's "view"; fynes moryson's "itinerary"; captain lee's "memoir"; harris's "letters"; and carte's "ormonde." [ ] see the proofs of this collected in carey's "vindiciæ hibernicæ." [ ] milton's "eikonoclastes"; warner's "history of the rebellion"; carey's "vindiciæ"; and pamphlets, libraries of trinity college and the dublin society. [ ] sir w. petty's "political anatomy of ireland"; lawrence's "interest of ireland"; "curry's review"; "carte's life and letters of ormonde," &c. [ ] hallam's "constitutional history," v. , p. , rd edition. [ ] speke's "memoirs." [ ] see the declaration of union, dated st march, , in the appendix to walker's "account of the siege of derry." [ ] these acts were done in good faith by the people, instigated by the devices of the nobles. a letter, now admitted to have been forged, was dispersed by lord mount alexander, announcing the design of the roman catholics to murder the protestants. chapter ii. origin and character of the parliament.--the house of lords. james landed at kinsale, th march, , about a month after the election of william and mary by the english convention. he entered dublin in state on the th march, accompanied by d'avaux, as ambassador from france, and a splendid court. his first act was to issue five proclamations--the first, requiring the return and aid of his irish absentee subjects; the second, urging upon the local authorities the suppression of robberies and violence which had increased in this unsettled state of affairs; the third, encouraging the bringing provisions for his army; the fourth, creating a currency of such metal as he had, conceiving it preferable to a paper currency (a gold or silver currency was out of his power, for of the two millions promised him by france, he only got £ , ); the fifth proclamation summoned a parliament for the th may, . james also issued a proclamation promising liberty of conscience, justice and protection[ ] to all; and, after receiving many congratulatory addresses, set out for derry to press the blockade. on the th april he returned to dublin. on the th may ireland possessed a complete and independent government. leaving the castle, over which floated the national flag, james proceeded in full procession to the king's inns, where the parliament sat, and the commons having assembled at the bar of the peers, james entered, "with robe and crown," and addressed the commons in a speech full of manliness and dignity. at the close of the speech, the chancellor of ireland, lord gosworth, directed the commons to retire and make choice of a speaker. in half an hour the commons returned and presented sir richard nagle as their speaker, a man of great endowments and high character. the speaker was accepted, and the houses adjourned. the peers who sat in this parliament amounted to fifty-four. among these fifty-four were six dignitaries of the protestant church, one duke, ten earls, sixteen viscounts, and twenty-one barons. it contained the oldest families of the country--o'brien and decourcy, maccarty and bermingham, de burgo and maguire, butler and fitzpatrick. the bishops of meath, cork, ossory, limerick, and waterford, and the protestant names of aungier, le poer, and forbes sat with the representatives of the great roman catholic houses of plunket, barnewell, dillon, and nugent. nor were some fresher honours wanting; talbot and mountcashel were the darlings of the people, the trust of the soldiery, the themes of bards. king's impeachment of this parliament is amusing enough. his first charge is, that if the house were full, the majority would have been protestant. now, if the majority preferred acting as insurgents under the prince of orange, to attending to their duties in the irish house of peers, it was their own fault. certain it is, the most violent might safely have attended, for the earls of granard and longford and the bishop of meath not only attended, but carried on a bold and systematic opposition. and so far was the house from resenting this, that they committed the sheriff of dublin to prison for billeting an officer at the bishop of meath's. yet the bishop had not merely resisted their favourite repeal of the settlement, but, in doing so, had stigmatized their fathers and some of themselves as murderous rebels. king's next charge is, that the attainders of many peers were reversed to admit them. now this is unsupported evidence against fact, and simply a falsehood. then he complains of the new creations. they were just _five_ in number; and of these five, two were great legal dignitaries--the lord chancellor and lord chief justice of ireland; the third was colonel maccarty, of the princely family of desmond, and a distinguished soldier with a great following; the others, brown, lord kenmare; and bourke, lord bofin (son of lord clanricarde), men of high position in their counties. fitton, lord gosworth, occupied the woolsack. that he was a man of capacity, if not of character, may be fairly presumed from his party having put him in so important an office in such trying times.[ ] he certainly had neither faction nor following to bring with him. nor was he treated by his party below what his rank entitled him to. the appointments in his court were not interfered with: his decrees were not impeached, and in the council he sat above even herbert, the lord chancellor of england. yet, king describes this man as "detected of forgery," one who was brought from gaol to the woolsack--one who had not appeared in any court--a stranger to the kingdom, the laws, and the practice and rules of court;--one who made constant needless references to the masters to disguise his ignorance, and who was brought into power, first, because he was "a convert papist, that is, a renegade to his country and his religion;" and, secondly, because he would enable the irish to recover their estates by countenancing "forgeries and perjuries," which last, continues the veracious archbishop, he nearly effected, without putting them to the trouble of repealing the acts of settlement. king staggers from the assertion that fitton denied justice to protestants, into saying it was got from him with difficulty. thomas nugent, baron riverstown, second son of the earl of westmeath, was chosen chairman of committees. king, who is the only authority at present accessible to us, states that nugent had been "out" in , but considering that he did not die till , he must have been a mere boy in ' , if born at all; and, at any rate, as his family, including his grandfather, lord delvin (first earl of westmeath), and his father, carried arms against the irish up to , and suffered severely, it is most improbable that he was, as a child, in the opposite ranks. the irish had never ceased to agitate against the acts of settlement and explanation. thus sir nicholas plunket had done legal battle against the first, till an express resolution excluded him by name from appearing at the bar of the council. then colonel talbot (tyrconnell) led the opposition effort for their repeal or mild administration. in , sir richard nagle went to england, as agent of the irish, to seek their repeal. but the greatest effort was made in . nugent and rice were sent expressly to london to press the repeal. rice is said to have shown great tact and eloquence, but nugent to have been rash and confused. certain it is, they were unsuccessful with the council, and were brutally insulted by the london mob, set on by the very decent chiefs of the williamite party. of the eighteen prelates, ten were englishmen, one welsh, and only seven irish. several had been chaplains to the different lords lieutenant. eleven out of the eighteen were in england during the session. of these, some were habitual absentees, such as thomas hackett, bishop of down, deprived in by williamite commissioners for an absence of twenty years. others had got leave of absence during ' and ' . some, like archbishop john vesey of tuam, and bishop richard tennison of killala, fled in good earnest, and accepted lecturerships and cures in london. there was one man among them who deserves more notice, anthony dopping, lord bishop of meath. he was born in dublin, th march, , and died th april, . he was educated in st. patrick's schools, and won his fellowship in t.c.d. in , being only years old. he led the opposition in the parliament of ' with great vigour and pertinacity. he resisted all the principal measures, and procured great changes in some of them, as appears by "the journal." he had a fearless character and ready tongue. he continued a leader of the ultras after the battle of the boyne, and quarrelled with the government. king william, finding how slowly the irish war proceeded, had prepared and sent to ireland a proclamation conceding the demands of the roman catholics, granting them perfect religious liberty, right of admission to all offices, and an establishment for their clergy.[ ] while this was with the printers in dublin, news came of the danger of limerick. the proclamation was suppressed by the lords justices, who hastened to the camp, "to hold the irish to as hard terms as possible. this they did effectually." still these "hard terms" were too lenient for the ultras, who roared against the treaty of limerick, and demanded its abrogation. on the sunday after the lords justices had returned, full of joy at having tricked the irish into so much harder terms than william had directed them to offer, they attended christ church, and the bishop of meath preached a sermon, whose whole object was to urge the breaking of the treaty of limerick, contending (says harris, in his irish writers in ware, p. ) that "peace ought not to be kept with a people so perfidious." the justices, and the williamite or moderate party, were enraged at this. the bishop of kildare was directed to preach in christ church on the following sunday in favour of the treaty; and he obtained the place in the privy council from which the bishop of meath was expelled; but ultimately the party of the latter triumphed, and enacted the penal laws. the list of the lords temporal has been made out with great care, from all the authorities accessible. ireland had then but two dukes, tyrconnell and ormond. ormond possessed the enormous spoils acquired by his grandfather from the irish, and was therefore largely interested in the success of the english party. he, of course, did not attend. his huge territory and its regal privileges were taken from him by a special act. considering the position he occupied, the materials on the life of tyrconnell are most unsatisfactory. richard talbot was a cadet of the irish branch of the shrewsbury family, and numbered in his ancestors the first names in english history. his father was sir william talbot, a distinguished irish lawyer, and his brother, peter talbot, was r.c. archbishop of dublin, and was murdered there by tedious imprisonment on a false charge in . he was a lad of sixteen when cromwell sacked drogheda in september , and he doubtless brought from its bloody ashes no feeling in favour of the saxon. he was all his life engaged in the service of the irish and of james. he was attached to the duke of york's suite from the restoration, and was taken prisoner by the dutch, on board the catharine, in the naval action at solebay, th may, .[ ] after the acts of settlement and explanation were passed, he acted as agent for the irish roman catholics, urging their claims with all the influence his rank, abilities, and fortune[ ] could command. his zeal got him into frequent dangers; he was sent to the tower in and for having challenged the duke of ormond, and the english commons presented an address in , praying his dismissal from all public employments. he was selected by james, both from personal trust and popularity, to communicate with the irish; and though clarendon was first sent as lord lieutenant in ' , tyrconnell had the independent management of the army,[ ] and replaced clarendon in . sarsfield, who was at the head of "the french party," and most of the great irish officers, thought him undecided, hardly bold enough, and with a selfish leaning towards england. of his selfishness we have now a better proof than they had, a proof that _might_ have abated his master's eulogy, given further on. we say _might_, for _possibly_ tyrconnell was in communication with james as to the french offers. "it is now ascertained that, doubtful of the king's success in the struggle for restoring popery in england, he had made secret overtures to some of the french agents, for casting off all connection with that kingdom in case of james's death, and, with the aid of louis, placing the crown of ireland on his own head. m. mazure has brought this remarkable fact to light. bonrepos, a french emissary in england, was authorised by his court to proceed in a negociation with tyrconnell for the separation of the two islands, in case that a protestant should succeed to the crown of england. he had accordingly a private interview with a confidential agent of the lord lieutenant at chester in the month of october, . tyrconnell undertook that in less than a year everything should be prepared."[ ] tyrconnell was made baron talbotstown, viscount baltinglass, and earl of tyrconnell in , and duke and marquis, th march, . from his coming to ireland, he worked hard for his master and his countrymen. he gradually substituted jacobite soldiers for the oliverians, who till then filled the ranks. he increased the army largely, and lent the king , men in ' . mischief was done to james's cause by this employment of irish troops in england. he was active in calling in the corporation charters, and was exposed to much calumny on account of it. the means, doubtless, were indefensible (for the change should have been effected by act of parliament, as it has at length been in our times), but the end was to put the corporations into the hands of the irish people. and even in those new corporations, one-third of the burgesses were of english descent and protestant faith; but this moderation is attempted to be shaved away by the williamites, who insist that most of these protestants were quakers, whom they describe as a savage rabble, originally founded by the jesuits[ ]--with what injustice we need hardly say. james describes him "as a man of good abilities and clear courage, and one who for many years had a true attachment to his majesty's person and interest."[ ] lord clanrickarde represented the mac william _uachdar_, one of the two great branches of the de burgos, who usurped the chieftaincy on the death of the earl of ulster in the year . his father was the great lord clanrickarde, who held connaught in peace and loyalty, from to ; when the troops for which he had negotiated with the duke of lorraine not arriving, he too yielded to the storm. mac donnel lord antrim, also the representative of a great house (the lord of the isles), was equally dependant on his predecessor for notoriety. his elder brother, the marquis and earl of antrim, played a notorious and powerful part on the irish side, in the war, from up to . this earl alexander also commanded an irish regiment during the same war. he was within the treaty of limerick, and saved his rank and fortune. lords longford and granard were williamites in fact. this does not follow from their having acted so vigorously in the opposition in , but from their having joined william openly the year after. lord granard had been offered the command of the williamites of ulster in , and on his refusal, lord mount alexander was appointed. among the earls, one naturally looks for the two famous names of taaffe and lucan. but taaffe was then on an embassy to the emperor, and patrick sarsfield was not made earl of lucan till after. indeed his patent is not entered in the rolls, from which 'tis probable he was not titled till after the battle of the boyne. viscount iveagh held drogheda at the battle of the boyne, and was induced to surrender it by william's ruffianly and unmilitary threat of "no quarter." lord clare was father to the famous lord clare, whose regiment was the glory of the irish brigade, and who was killed at ramillies in . he was descended from connor o'brian, third earl of thomond. lord mountcashel, by his rapidity and skill, completely broke the munster insurgents, and made that province, till then considered the stronghold of the english, james's best help. to him was intrusted the bill repealing the settlement in the commons, where he sat as member for the county of cork till that bill passed the commons, when he was called to the upper house as lord mountcashel. lord kinsale represented the famous john de courcy, earl of ulster, and had the blood of charlemagne in his veins. he served as lieutenant-colonel to lord lucan. his attainder under william was reversed, and he appeared at court, where he enforced the privilege peculiar to his family of remaining covered in the king's presence. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] see as to this, melfort's letter to pottinger, the sovereign of belfast; "history of belfast," pp. - ; lesley _proves_, on williamite authority, that the protestants were worse treated by william's army than by james's. see dr. gorges in lesley's appendix. [ ] he was appointed in (see appendix b). t. w. r. [ ] in july, , william had offered these terms: st. the free public exercise of the roman catholic religion. nd. half the churches in the kingdom. rd. half the employments, civil and military, if they pleased. th. half their properties, as held prior to cromwell's conquest. the terms were at once refused. the suppressed proclamation doubtless offered at least as much. (harris's "william," and plowden, b. .) [ ] rawdon papers, p. . [ ] anthony hamilton, in his "memoirs of grammont," exaggerates this to £ , a year, and attributes miss jennings' affection to its attractions. but besides that, by his statement, tyrconnell had been a rival of grammont with miss hamilton, there is enough in grammont to account for it otherwise. hamilton, an irishman, and a jacobite, seems to have sympathised with tyrconnell. he describes him as "one of the largest and most powerful looking men in england," "with a brilliant and handsome appearance, and something of nobility, not to say haughtiness in his manners." he mentions circumstances, showing him bold, free, amorous, and, strange for a courtier, punctual in payment of debts. yet this man, so full of refinement, and so trained, is described by king as addressing the irish privy council thus:--"i have put the sword into your hands, and god damn you all if ever you part with it." [ ] clarendon's "state letters," vol. i. and the diary. [ ] hallam's "constitutional history," v. iii., p. . [ ] state tracts, will. iii.'s reign, h. r.'s app. to cox. [ ] "memoirs of james ii.," by the rev. ---- clarke, chaplain to george iv. these memoirs seem to have been copies of memoirs written under james ii.'s inspection, and deposited in the scotch college in paris. the originals perished at the french revolution, and their copies came to rome, from whence they were procured for the english government in . see mr. clarke's preface, and guizot's preface to his translation of them in the "mémoires de la révolution." chapter iii. the house of commons. the number of members in the commons, as the complement was made up under the monstrous charters of james i., charles i., and charles ii., far outdoing in their unconstitutional nature any of the stretchings of prerogative in the reign of james ii., amounted to . the number actually returned was . of the deficiencies, no less than were caused by the places being the seats of the war. the character of this assembly must be chiefly judged by its acts, and we shall presently resume the consideration of them; but there are some things in the composition of the commons whereby their character has been judged. they have been denounced by king: but before we examine his statements, let us inquire who he was, lest we underrate or overrate his testimony; lest we unjustly require proof, in addition to the witness of a thoroughly pure and wise man; or, what is more dangerous, lest we remain content with the unconfirmed statements of a bigot or knave. william king was the son of james king, a miller, who, in order to avoid taking the solemn league and covenant, removed from the north of scotland, and settled in antrim, where william was born, st of may, . (see harris's "ware," bishops of derry.) he was educated at dungannon, was a sizar, "_native_," and schoolmaster in t.c.d., and was ordained in . parker, archbishop of tuam, gave him a heap of livings, and on being translated to dublin, procured the chancellorship of st. patrick's for king in . this he held during the revolution. he was imprisoned in on suspicion, but after some months was released, through the influence of herbert and tyrconnell, and notwithstanding c. j. nugent's opposition. immediately on his release he wrote his "state of the protestants of ireland," printed in london, _cum privilegio_, at the chief williamite printer's. it was written and published while the war in ireland was at its height, and when it was sought at any price to check the jacobite feeling then beginning to revive in england, by running down the conduct of the irish, james's most formidable supporters. moreover, king had been imprisoned (justly or unjustly) by james's council, and he obtained the bishopric of derry from william, on the th of january, (old style), namely, within thirty-eight weeks before the publication of his book, which was printed, _cum privilegio_, th of october, . whether the bishopric was the wages of the book, or the book revenge for the imprisonment, we shall not say; but surely king must have had marvellous virtue to write impartially, in excited and reckless times, for so demoralized a party as the english whigs, when he wrote of transactions yet incomplete, of which there was a perilous stake not only for him but for his friends, and when, of the parties at issue, one gave him a gaol and the other a mitre. there is scarcely a section in his book that does not abound with the most superlative charges, put in the coarsest language. all the calumnies as to , which are now confessed to be false, are gospel truths in his book. he never gives an exact authority for any of his graver charges, and his appendix is a valuable reply to his text. when, in addition to these external probabilites and intrinsic evidences of falsehood, we add that, immediately on its publication, lesley wrote an answer to it, denying its main statements as mere lies, and that his book was never replied to, we will not be in a hurry to adopt any statement of king's. but in order to see the force of this last objection to king's credibility, something must be known of lesley. charles lesley, son of the bishop of clogher, is chiefly known for his very able controversial writings against deists, catholics, and dissenters. he was a law-student till , when he took orders; and in became chancellor of connor. when, in , james appointed a roman catholic sheriff for monaghan, mr. lesley, being then sick with gout, had himself carried to the courthouse, and induced the magistrates to commit the sheriff. in fact, it appears from harris ("life of william," p. , and "writers of ireland," pp. - ), that lesley was notorious for his conversions of roman catholics, and his stern hostility to tyrconnell's government. lesley refused to take the oath of supremacy after the revolution, and thereby lost all chance of promotion in the church. he was looked on as the head of the nonjurors, and died in march, - , at glaslough, universally respected. such being mr. lesley's character, so able, so upright, so zealously protestant, he, in , wrote an answer to king's "state," in which he accuses king of the basest personal hypocrisy and charges him with having in his book written gross, abominable, and notorious falsehoods, and this he _proves_ in several instances, and in many more renders it highly probable. king died th may, , leaving lesley's book altogether unreplied to. here then was that man--bishop of derry for eleven years and archbishop of dublin for twenty-seven years--remaining silent under a charge of deliberate and interested falsehood, and that charge made by no unworthy man, but by one of his own country, neighbourhood, and creed--by one of acknowledged virtue, high position, and vast abilities. nor is this all; lesley's book was not only unanswered; it was watched and attempted to be stopped, and when published, was instantly ordered to be suppressed, as were all other publications in favour of the irish or of king james. the reader is now in a position to judge of the credibility of any assertion of king's, when unsupported by other authority. king's gravest charges are in the following passage:-- "these members of the house of commons are elected either by freeholders of counties, or the freemen of the corporations; and i have already showed how king james wrested these out of the hands of protestants, and put them into popish hands in the new constitution of corporations, by which the freemen and freeholders of cities or boroughs, to whom the election of burgesses originally belongs, are excluded, and the election put into the hands of a small number of men named by the king, and removable at his pleasure. the protestant freeholders, if they had been in the kingdom, were much more than the papist freeholders, but now being gone, though many counties could not make a jury, as appeared at the intended trial of mr. price and other protestants at wicklow, who could not be tried for want of freeholders--yet, notwithstanding the paucity of these, they made a shift to return knights of the shire. the common way of election was thus:--the earl of tyrconnell, together with the writ for election, commonly sent a letter, recommending the persons he designed should be chosen; the sheriff or mayor being his creature, on receipt of this, called so many of the freeholders of a county or burgesses of a corporation together, as he thought fit, and without making any noise, made the return. it was easier to do this in boroughs--because, by their new charters, the electors were not above twelve or thirteen, and in the greatest cities but twenty-four; and commonly, not half of these in the place. the method of the sheriff's proceeding was the same; the number of popish freeholders being very small, sometimes not a dozen in a county, it was easier to give notice to them to appear, so that the protestants either did not know of the election or durst not appear at it." first let us see about the boroughs. king, in his section on the corporations, states in terms that "they" (the protestants) "thought it reasonable to keep these (corporate towns) in their own hands, as being the foundation of the legislative power, and therefore secluded papists," etc. the purport, therefore, of king's objection to the new constitution under king james's charters was the admission of roman catholics. religious equality was sinful in his eyes. the means used by james to change the corporations, namely bringing _quo warrantos_ in the exchequer against them, and employing all the niceties of a confused law to quash them, we have before condemned. in doing so, he had the precedents of the reigns called most constitutional by english historians, and those not old, but during his brother's reign; nor can anyone who has looked into brady's treatise on boroughs doubt that there was plenty of "law" in favour of james's conduct.[ ] but still public policy and public opinion in england were against these _quo warrantos_, and in ireland they were only approved of by those who were to be benefited by them. but the means being thus improper, the use made by james of this power can hardly be complained of. the roman catholics were then about , , the protestants, over , . james, it is confessed, allowed one-third of the corporations to be protestant, though they were little, if at all, more than one-fourth of the population. this will appear no great injustice in our times, although some of these protestants may, as it has been alleged, have been "quakers." it must also be remembered that those proceedings were begun not by james but by charles; that the corporations were, with some show of law, conceived to have been forfeited during the irish war, or the cromwellian rule; and that being offered renewals on terms, they refused; whereupon the _quo warrantos_ were brought and decided before the regular tribunals during the earlier and middle part of james's reign. on the th september, , james issued his royal letter (to be found in harris's appendix, pp. to ), commanding the renewal of the charters. by these renewals, the first members of the corporations were to be named by the lord lieutenant, but they were afterwards to be elected by the corporations themselves. there certainly are _non-obstante_ and non-resistance clauses ordered to be inserted, in the prerogative spirit of that day, which were justly complained of. with reference to the number of burgesses, king's statement that the number of electors was usually twelve or thirteen, and in the greatest cities but twenty-four, is untrue. most of the irish boroughs were certainly reduced to these numbers under the liberal hanoverian government, but not so under james. the members' names are given in full in harris's appendix, and from those it appears that no corporation had so few as twelve electors. only five, viz.--dungannon, ennis, st. johnstown (in longford), belturbet, and athboy, were as low as thirteen; twenty-three, viz.--tuam, kildare, cavan, galway, callan, newborough, carlingford, gowran, carysfort, boyle, roscommon, athy, strabane, middletown, newry, philipstown, banagher, castlebar, fethard, blessington, charleville, thomastown, and baltimore, varied from fourteen to twenty-four; most of the rest varied from thirty to forty. dublin had seventy-three; cork, sixty-one; clonmel, forty-six; cashel, forty-two; drogheda, fifty-seven; kilkenny, sixty-one; limerick, sixty-five; waterford, forty-nine; youghal, forty-six; wexford, fifty-three, and derry, sixty-four. this is a striking proof of the little reliance to be placed on king's positive statements. harris, a hostile authority, gives the names and generally the additions of the members of each corporation, and the majority are merchants, respectable traders, engineers, or gentlemen. moreover, in such towns as our local knowledge extends to, the names are those of the best families, not being zealous williamites. as to the counties, king relies upon a pamphlet published in london in , setting out great grievances in the title page, and disproving them in the body of the tract. if many protestant freeholders had fled to england, who was to blame?--most assuredly, my lord mount alexander and the rest of the right noble and honourable suborners, devisers, and propagators of forged letters and infamous reports, whereby they frightened the protestants, in order to take advantage of their terror for their own selfish ends. the exposure of these devices by the publication of "speke's memoirs," by the confessed forgery of the dromore letter, etc., have thrown the chief blame of the protestant desertion off the shoulders of those protestants, off the shoulders, too, of the irish government, and have brought it crushingly upon the aristocratic cabal, who alone profited by the revolution, as they alone caused it. in the absence of other testimony, we must take, with similar allowances, the story of tyrconnell "_commonly_" sending an unconstitutional letter to influence the election. but how very good these jacobite sheriffs and mayors were to let king into the secret, in , when their destiny was uncertain! that such gossip was current is likely, but for a historian to assert on such authority is scandalous. king asserts that the unrepresented boroughs were "_about twenty-nine_." now, there were but _eighteen_ boroughs unrestored; but king helps out the falsehood by inserting places--thurles, tipperary, arklow, and birr--which _never_ had members before or since, by _creating_ a _second_ town of kells, by transferring st. johnstown in longford which returned members, to st. johnstown in donegal, which was a seat of war, and by other tricks equally discreditable to his honesty and intelligence. the towns unrestored _could_ not have sent members to james's parliament, and it was apparently doubted whether they ought to have done so to william's in ' . against the commons actually elected the charge is that only six protestants were elected. in the very section containing the charge it is much qualified by other statements. "thus," he says, "one gerard dillon, sergeant-at-law, a most furious papist, was recorder of dublin, and he stood to be chosen one of the burgesses for the city, but could not prevail, because he had purchased a considerable estate under the act of settlement, and they feared lest this might engage him to defend it;" and therefore they chose sir michael creagh and terence dermot, their senior aldermen, showing pretty clearly that the good citizens of dublin set little value on the "furious popery" of prime sergeant dillon, in comparison with their property plundered by the act of settlement. the election for trinity college is worthy of notice. we have it set out in flaming paragraphs how horribly the college was used, worse than any other borough, "popish fellows" being intruded. "in the house they placed a popish garrison, turned the chapel into a magazine, and many of the chambers into prisons for protestants." (king, p. , ed. .) yet, _miraculous_ to say, in the heart of this "popish garrison," the "turned-out vice-provost, fellows, and scholars" met, and elected two most bold, notable, and protestant williamites. if this election could take place in dublin, under the very nose of the government, and in a corporation in which the king had unquestioned control, one will hesitate about the compulsion or exclusion in other places. besides sir john meade and mr. joseph coghlan, the members for the college, there "were four more protestants returned, of whose behaviour i can give no account," says king. pity he does not give the names. if we were to allow a similar error in king's account of the creed of the elected, that we have proved in his lists of the borough electors, it would raise the number of protestants in the house to about fourteen. allowing then for the protestants in arms against the government--out of the country, or within the seat of war--the disproportion between their representatives and the roman catholics will lessen greatly. one thing more is worth noticing in the commons, and that is a sort of sept representation. thus we see o'neills in antrim, tyrone, and armagh; magennises in down; o'reillys in cavan; martins, blakes, kirwans, dalys, bourkes for connaught; maccarthys, o'briens, o'donovans for cork and clare; farrells for longford; graces, purcells, butlers, welshs, fitzgeralds for tipperary, kilkenny, kildare, etc.; o'tooles, byrnes, and eustaces for wicklow; macmahons for monaghan; nugents, bellews, talbots, etc., for north leinster. sir richard nagle, the speaker, was the descendant of an old norman family (said to be the same as the nangles) settled in cork. his paternal castle, carrignancurra, is on the edge of a steep rock, over the meadows of the blackwater, half-a-dozen miles below mallow. it is now the property of the foot family, and here may still be seen the mouldering ruin where that subtle lawyer first learned to plan. peacefully now look the long oak-clad cliffs on the happy river. nagle had obtained a splendid reputation at the irish bar. "he had been educated among the jesuits, and designed for a clergyman," says king, "but afterwards betook himself to the study of the law, in which he arrived to a good perfection." harris, likewise, calls him "an artful lawyer of great parts." tyrconnell valued him rightly, and brought him to england with him in the autumn of . his reputation seems to have been great, for it seems the lords interested in the settlement act, "on being informed of nagle's arrival, were so transported with rage that they would have had him immediately sent out of london." he was knighted, and made attorney-general in ; and on james's arrival, march, - , he was made secretary of state. he is said, we know not how truly, to have drafted the commons' bill for the repeal of the settlement. let us mention some of the members.--nagle's colleague in cork was colonel maccarty, afterwards lord mountcashel. miles de courcy, afterwards lord kinsale, maccarty reagh, who finally settled in france. his descendant, count maccarty reagh, was notable for having one of the finest libraries in europe, which was sold after the revolution. the rt. hon. simon lutteral raised a dragoon regiment for james, and afterwards commanded the queen's regiment of infantry in the brigade. he was father to colonel henry lutteral, accused of having betrayed the passage of the shannon at limerick; and though harris throws doubt on this particular act of treason, his correspondence and rewards from william seem sufficient proof and confirmation of his guilt. lally of tullendaly, member for tuam, was the representative of the o'lallys, an old irish sept. his brother, john gerard lally, settled in france, and married a sister to dillon, "_colonel propriétaire_" in the brigade, and was colonel commanding in this illustrious regiment. sir gerard was father to the famous count thomas lally tollendal, who, after having served from the age of twelve to sixty-four in every quarter of the globe, from barcelona to dettingen, and from fontenoy to pondicherry, was beheaded on the th of may, . the marquis de lally tollendal, a distinguished lawyer and statesman of the bourbonist party, and writer of the life of strafford, and many other works, was a grand-nephew to james lally, the member for tuam in ' . colonel roger mac elligot, who commanded lord clancarty's regiment (the th infantry) in the brigade, was member for ardfert. limerick.--sir john fitzgerald was "_col. propr._" of the regiment of limerick ( th infantry) in the brigade. oliver o'gara, member for tulske, was lieutenant-colonel of the guards under colonel dorrington. hugh mac mahon, gordon o'nials lieutenant-colonel, was member for monaghan. the right hon. nicholas purcell, member for tipperary, was a privy councillor early in james's reign. his family were barons of loughmoe, and of great consideration in those parts. the first bill introduced into the lords was on the th of may--that for the recognition of the king--and the same day committees of grievance were appointed. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] hallam ("constitutional history," chaps. and ) contains enough to show the uncertainty of the law. throughout these, as in all parts of his work, he is a jealous williamite and a bigoted whig. his treatment of curry has been justly censured by mr. wyse, in his valuable "history of the catholic association," vol. i., pp. - . chapter iv. the session. it is needless for us to track the parliament through the debates of the session, which lasted till the th july. the few acts (thirty-five), passed in two months, received full and earnest discussion; committees and counsel were heard on many of them (the acts for repealing the settlement in particular), and this parliament refused even to adjourn during any holiday. we trust our readers will deal like searchers for truth, not like polemics, with these documents, and with the history of these times. but, above all, let them not approach the subject unless it be in a spirit enlightened by philosophy and warmed by charity. thus studied, this time, which has been the armoury of faction, may become the temple of reconciliation. the descendant of the williamite ought to sympathise with the urgent patriotism and loyalty of the parliament, rather than dwell on its errors, or on the sufferings which civil war inflicted on his forefathers. the heir of the jacobite may well be proud of such countrymen as the inniskilliners and the 'prentice boys of derry. both must deplore that the falsehoods, corruption, and forgeries of english aristocrats, the imprudence of an english king, and the fickleness of the english people placed the noble cavalry which slew schomberg, and all but beat william's immense masses at the boyne, in opposition to the stout men of butler's-bridge and cavan. what had not the defenders of derry and limerick, the heroes of athlone, inniskillen, and aughrim done, had they cordially joined against the alien? let the roman catholics, crushed by the penal code, let the protestants, impoverished and insulted by england, till, musket in hand and with banners displayed, they forced their rights from her in ' --let both look narrowly at the causes of those intestine feuds, which have prostrated both in turn before the stranger, and see whether much may not be said for both sides, and whether half of what each calls crime in the other is not his own distrust or his neighbour's ignorance. knowledge, charity, and patriotism are the only powers which can loose this prometheus-land. let us seek them daily in our own hearts and conversation. the acts and other official documents of james's parliament were ordered by william's parliament to be burned, and became extremely scarce. in they were printed in dublin by ebenezer rider, and from that collection we propose to reprint the most important of them, as the best and most solid answer to misrepresentation. the parliament which passed those acts was the first and the last which ever sat in ireland since the english invasion, possessed of national authority, and complete in all its parts. the king, by law and in fact--the king who, by his scottish descent, his creed, and his misfortunes, was dear (mistakenly or not) to the majority of the then people of ireland--presided in person over that parliament. the peerage consisted of the best blood, milesian and norman, of great wealth and of various creeds. the commons represented the irish septs, the danish towns, and the anglo-irish counties and boroughs. no parliament of equal rank, from king to commons, sat here since; none sat here before or since so national in composition and conduct. standing between two dynasties--endangering the one, and almost rescuing the other--acting for a nation entirely unchained then for the first time in years--this parliament and its acts _ought_ to possess the very greatest interest for the historian and the patriot. this was the speech with which his majesty opened the session:-- _my lords and gentlemen_, the exemplary loyalty which this nation hath expressed to me, at a time when _others_ of my _subjects undutifully misbehaved themselves to me, or so basely deserted me_: and your seconding my deputy, as you did, in his firm and resolute asserting my right, in preserving this kingdom for me, and putting it in a posture of defence; made me resolve to come to you, and to venture my life with you, in the defence of your liberties and my own right. and to my great satisfaction i have not only found you ready to serve me, but that your courage has equalled your zeal. i have always been for liberty of conscience, and against invading any man's property; having still in my mind that saying in holy writ, _do as you would be done to, for that is the law and the prophets_. _it was this liberty of conscience i gave, which my enemies both abroad and at home dreaded; especially when they saw that i was resolved to have it established by law in all my dominions, and made them set themselves up against me_, though for different reasons. seeing that if i had once settled it, _my people_ (_in the opinion of the one_) would have been too happy; and i (_in the opinion of the other_) too great. _this argument was made use of_, to persuade their own people to joyn with them, and to many of my subjects to use me as they have done. but nothing shall ever persuade me to change my mind as to that; and wheresoever i am the master, i design (god willing) to establish it by law; and have no other test or distinction but that of loyalty. i expect your concurrence in so christian a work, and in making laws against prophaneness and all sorts of debauchery. i shall also most readily consent to the making such good and wholesome laws as may be for the general good of the nation, the improvement of trade, and the relieving of such as have been injured by the late _acts of settlement_, as far forth as may be consistent with reason, justice, and the publick good of my people. and as i shall do my part to make you happy and rich, i make no doubt of your assistance; by enabling me to oppose the unjust designs of my enemies, and to make this nation flourish. and to encourage you the more to it, you know with what ardour and generosity and kindness the most christian king gave a secure retreat to the queen, my son, and myself, when we were forced out of _england_, and came to seek for protection and safety in his dominions; how he embraced my interest, and gave me such supplies of all sorts as enabled me to come to you; which, without his obliging assistance, i could not have done: _this he did_ at a time when he had so many and so considerable enemies to deal with: _and you see still continues to do_. i shall conclude as i have begun, and assure you i am as sensible as you can desire of the signal loyalty you have expressed to me; and shall make it my chief study (as it always has been) to make you and all my subjects happy. these were the acts of that memorable parliament. chapter i. an act of recognition. chapter ii. an act for annulling and making void all patents of officers for life, or during good behaviour. chapter iii. an act declaring, that the parliament of england cannot bind ireland [and] against writs of error and appeals, to be brought for removing judgments, decrees, and sentences given in ireland, into england. chapter iv. an act for repealing the acts of settlement, and explanation, resolution of doubts and all grants, patents and certificates, pursuant to them or any of them. [this act will be dealt with separately in the next chapter.] chapter v. an act for punishing of persons who bring in counterfeit coin of foreign realms being current in this realm, or counterfeit the same within this realm, or wash, clip, file, or lighten the same. chapter vi. an act for taking off all incapacities on the natives of this kingdom. chapter vii. an act for taking away the benefits of the clergy in certain cases of felony in this kingdom for two years. chapter viii. an act to continue two acts made to prevent delays in execution; and to prevent arrests of judgments and superseding executions. chapter ix. an act for repealing a statute, entituled, an act for provision of ministers in cities and corporate towns, and making the church of st. andrews in the suburbs of [the city of] dublin presentative for ever. chapter x. an act of supply for his majesty for the support of his army. [the act of supply begins by giving good reasons for the making of it; namely, that the army cost far more than the king's revenue, and that that army was rendered necessary from the invasion of ireland by the english rebels. it next grants the king £ , a month, to be raised by a land-tax, and this sum it distributes on the different counties and counties of towns, according to their abilities. the rebellious counties of fermanagh and derry are taxed just as lightly as if they were loyal. the names of the commissioners are, beyond doubt, those of the first men in their respective counties. the rank of the country was as palpably on james's side as was the populace. the clauses regarding the tenants are remarkably clear and liberal: "for as much," it says, "as it would be hard that the tenants should bear _any_ proportion of the said sum, considering that it is very difficult for the tenant to pay his rent in these distracted times," it goes on to provide that the tax shall, in the first instance, be paid by the occupier, but that, where land is let at its value, he shall be allowed the whole of the tax out of his rent, notwithstanding any contract to the contrary; and that where the land was let at _half_ its value _or less_, then, and then only, should the tenant pay a share (half) of the tax. thus not only rack-rented farms, but all let at any rent, no matter how little, over half the value, were free of this tax. where, in distracted or quiet times, since, has a parliament of landlords in england or ireland acted with equal liberality? the £ , a month hereby granted was altogether insufficient for the war; and james, urged by the military exigency, which did not tolerate the delay of calling a parliament when schomberg threatened the capital, issued a commission on the th april, , to raise £ , a month additional; yet so far was even this from meeting his wants, that we find by one of tyrconnell's letters to the queen (quoted in thorpe's catalogue for ), that in the spring of , james's expenses were £ , a month. those who have censured this additional levy and the brass coinage were jealous of what was done towards fighting the battle of ireland, or forgot that levies by the crown and alterations of the coin had been practised by every government in europe.] chapter xi. an act for repealing the act for keeping and celebrating the rd of _october_ as an anniversary thanksgiving in this kingdom. chapter xii. an act for liberty of conscience, and repealing such acts or clauses in any act of parliament which are inconsistent with the same. an act concerning tythes and other ecclesiastical duties. _acts xiii. and xv. provide for the payment of tithes by protestants to the protestant church and by catholics to the catholic church._ chapter xiv. an act regulating tythes, and other ecclesiastical duties in the province of _ulster_. chapter xvi. an act for repealing the act for real union and division of parishes, and concerning churches, free-schools and exchanges. chapter xvii. an act for relief and release of poor distressed prisoners for debts. chapter xviii. an act for the repealing an act, entituled, an act for confirmation of letters patent granted to his grace james duke of ormond. [the list of estates granted to ormond, under the settlement at the restoration, occupies a page and a half of cox's magazine. to reduce him to his hereditary principalities (for they were no less) which he held in , was no great grievance, and that was the object of this act.] chapter xix. an act for encouragement of strangers and others to inhabit and plant in the kingdom of _ireland_. chapter xx. an act for prevention of frauds and perjuries. chapter xxi. an act for prohibiting the importation of english, scotch, or welch coals into this kingdom. chapter xxii. an act for ratifying and confirming deeds and settlements and last wills and testaments of persons out of possession. chapter xxiii. an act for the speedy recovering of servants' wages. chapter xxiv. an act for forfeiting and vesting in his majesty the goods of absentees. chapter xxv. an act concerning martial law. chapter xxvi. an act for punishment of waste committed on lands restorable to old proprietors. chapter xxvii. an act to enable his majesty to regulate the duties of foreign commodities. chapter xxviii. an act for the better settling intestates' estates. chapter xxix. an act for the advance and improvement of trade, and for encouragement and increase of shipping, and navigation. chapter xxx. an act for the attainder of divers rebels, and for the preserving the interest of loyal subjects.--(dealt with in our sixth chapter.) chapter xxxi. an act for granting and confirming unto the duke of _tyrconnel_, lands and tenements to the value of £ , _per annum_. chapter xxxii. an act for securing the water-course for the castle and city of _dublin_. chapter xxxiii. an act for relieving dame _anna yolanda sarracourt_, alias _duval_, and her daughter. chapter xxxiv. an act for securing iron-works and land thereunto belonging, on sir _henry waddington_, knight, at a certain rate. chapter xxxv. an act for reversal of the attainder of _william ryan_ of _bally ryan_ in the county of _tipperary_, esq.; and for restoring him to his blood, corrupted by the said attainder. chapter v. repeal of the act of settlement. it appears from the journal of the proceedings of the parliament, and from many other authorities, that no act of the irish parliament of received such full consideration as the following. two bills were brought in for the purpose of repealing the acts of settlement--that into the house of lords, on may , by chief justice nugent; that into the house of commons by lord riverstown and colonel maccarthy. committees sat to inquire into the effects of the bills; many memorials were read and considered; counsel were heard, both generally on the bills and on their effects on individuals; the debates were long, and it was not till after several conferences between the two houses that the act passed. the act was deliberately and maturely considered. the titles and some of the effects of the acts of settlement are given in the preamble to the following statute. the effect of those acts of settlement had been, in a great degree, to confirm the unprincipled distribution of irish property, made by cromwell's government, amongst those who had served it best, or, what meant nearly the same thing, who had most injured the irish. the acts of settlement gave legality to a revolution which transferred the lands of the natives to military colonists. the repeal of those acts, within years after they passed, and within about years after that revolution took place, cannot excite much surprise. the _one-third_ of their holdings (which the cromwellian soldiers were obliged by the acts of the settlement to give up) could not have made a fund to reprize those who had been ousted from the entire. however, the giving up of that one-third was not strictly enforced, and the stock resulting was wasted by commissioners, and distributed as the applicants had interest at court, not as they had title to the lands. thus, lord ormond got some hundred thousand acres; albeit he had done more substantial injury to the irish, and to the royalist cause in which they foolishly embarked, than any of the parliamentarians, from coote to ireton. under such circumstances, we are not exaggerating the effect of the acts of settlement, passed after the restoration, in saying, that they confirmed by law the cromwellian robbery. the testimony of all the credible writers of the time goes to the same effect. indeed, the repeal of the acts of settlement would have been against the interests of the natives, if they had received justice from those acts. this, in itself, is sufficient to prove how much hardship they had caused. the repeal of those acts by the irish, as soon as they were in power, seems natural, considering how great and how recent was the injury they inflicted. still, as we said, years had passed since those acts had become law. many persons had got possession of properties under that law, and many of those properties had, doubtless, been sold, leased, subdivided, improved, and incumbered, upon the faith of that law. it might be urged that persons interested by such means in these properties had become so with full knowledge that they had been acquired by violence and injustice, and that the original owners and their families were in existence, ready and resolved to take their first opportunity of regaining their rights. such reasoning fixes all who had advanced money, made purchases, or become in any wise interested under the acts of settlement, with such injustice and imprudence as to diminish their claim for compensation upon the repeal of those acts. but it only diminished, it did not destroy that claim. all those persons reposed some confidence in the security of the then existing government; and many of them found a justification for the cromwellian conquest, in the conduct of the irish, as the well-sustained falsehoods of the english describe it. for these reasons, chief justice keating prepared a long memorial, which forbes, lord granard, presented to the king, during the discussions on the bills, in may, , setting forth the claims of those who came in under the acts of settlement, as incumbrancers, purchasers, tenants, by marriage, etc. this memorial is dishonestly represented by the whig writers, as directed against the repeal altogether; but any one who reads it (which he can do in the appendix to harris's life of william) will find that it is an argument in favour of the classes described in the last sentence. from the long and careful clauses in the following act, for the reprisal and compensation of those classes, we must infer that keating's memorial produced its intended effect. however, these clauses require to be carefully examined, to see whether they carry out this principle of compensation fairly and impartially. the character of this parliament for moderation depends greatly on their doings in this respect. we now come to a second class, the irish who, having been given the alternative of "hell or connaught" (as a certain bishop was of heaven or dungarvan), preferred the latter, and were located on the lands of the connaught people. this class would generally come in for their old holdings in the other provinces, and required no compensation; but the distribution, under this act, of the incumbrances, etc., between them and the owners of their former and present lands, seems lawyer-like and reasonable. the next great class are the "adventurers," those who got lands during the commonwealth, and whose holdings were confirmed by the settlement. their claim was boldly and ably urged by anthony dopping, bishop of meath. his speech on the repeal bill is given in king's appendix, and is worth reading. he bases their claim upon the supposition of the irish having been bloody rebels, rightly punished by the giving of their lands to their loyal conquerors. his speech gives the genuine opinion of the english at the time. the preamble to the following act, and that to the commons' bill, give the irish view of the war. these documents deny that the bulk of the irish were engaged in the conspiracy of ; and the denial is true, although it is also true that more than a "few indigent persons" engaged in it, as is plain from lord maguire's narrative; and although it might have more become this irish parliament to proclaim the absolute justice of the rising of , on account of the sufferings of all ranks of irish, in property and in political and religious rights; while they might have lamented that english atrocities had led to a cruel retaliation, though one infinitely less than it has been represented. however, the parliament, probably from delicacy to the king, based the rights of the irish upon the peace of , and the restoration as restoring them to their loyalty, and to the properties possessed in . most fair inquirers will allow the justice of this restoration of the irish; but will lament that the act before us contains no provision for the families of those adventurers, who, however guilty when they came into the country, had been in it for from thirty to forty years, and had time and some citizenship in their favour. there had been sound policy in that too, but it was not done; and though the open hostility of most of those adventurers to the government--though the wants and urgency of the old proprietors, added to a lively recollection of the horrors which thronged about their advent, may be urged in favour of leaving them to work out their own livelihood by hard industry, or to return to england, we cannot be quite reconciled to the wisdom of the course. yet, let any one who finds himself eager to condemn the irish parliament on this account read over the facts that led to it, namely: the conquest of leinster before the reformation; the settlements of munster and ulster, under elizabeth and james; the governments of strafford, and parsons, and borlace; cromwell's and ireton's conquest; the effects of the acts of settlement, and the false-plot reign of charles ii.; let them, we say, read these, and be at least moderate in censuring the parliament of . _the preamble to the act of repeal of the acts of settlement and explanation, etc., as it passed the house of commons._[ ] whereas the ambition and avarice of the lords justices ruling over this your kingdom, in , did engage them to gather a malignant party and cabal of the then privy council contrary to their sworn faith and natural allegiance, in a secret intelligence and traitorous combination, with the puritan sectaries in the realm of _great britain_, against their lawful and undoubted sovereign, his peace, crown, and dignity, the malice of which made it soon manifest in the nature and tendency of their proceedings; their untimely prorogations of a loyal unanimous parliament, and thereby making void, and disappointing the effects of many seasonable votes, bills, and addresses which, passed into laws, had certainly secured the peace and tranquility of this kingdom, by binding to his majesty the hearts of his _irish_ subjects, as well by the tyes of affection and gratitude, as duty and allegiance there. the said lords justices traitorously disbanding his majesty's well assured catholick forces, when his person and monarchy were exposed to the said rebel sectaries, then marching in hostile arms to dispoil him of his power, dominion, and life; their immediate calling into the place and stead of those his majesty's faithful disbanded forces, a formidable body of disciplined troops allied and confederated in cause, nation and principles with those rebel sectaries; their unwarrantable entertainment of those troops in this kingdom, to the draining of his majesty's treasury, and terror of his catholick subjects, then openly menaced by them the aforesaid lords justices with a massacre and total extirpation, their bloody prosecution of that menace, in the slaughter of many innocent persons, thereby affrighting and compelling others in despair of protection, from their government, to unite and take arms for their necessary defence, and preservation of their lives; their unpardonable prevarication from his majesty's orders to them, in retrenching the time by him graciously given to his subjects so compelled into arms of returning to their duty; and stinting the general pardon to such only as had no freehold estates to make forfeitures of; their pernicious arts in way-laying, exchanging and wickedly depriving all intercourse by letters, expresses, and other communications and privity betwixt your said royal father and his much abused people; their insolent and barbarous application of racks and other engines of torture to sir _john read_, his then majesty's sworn menial servant, and that upon their own conscience suspicions of his being intrusted with the too just complaints of the persecuted catholick aforesaid; their diabolical malice and craft, in essaying by promises and threats, to draw from him, the said _read_, in his torments, a false and impious accusation of his master and sovereign as being the author and promoter of the then commotion, so manifestly procured, and by themselves industriously spread. and whereas a late eminent minister of state, for parallel causes and ends, pursuing the steps of the aforesaid lords justices, hath by his interest and power, cherished and supported a fanatical republican party, which heretofore opposed, put to flight, and chased out of this your kingdom of _ireland_, the royal authority lodged in his person, and to transfer the calamitous consequences of his fatal conduct from himself, upon your trusty _roman_ catholick subjects, to the breach of publick faith solemnly given and proclaimed in the name of our late sovereign, interposed betwixt them and his late majesty's general indulgence and pardon, and wrought their exclusion from that indemnity in their estates, which by the said publick faith is specially provided for, and since hath been extended to the most bloody and execrable traitors, few only excepted by name in all your realms and dominions. and further, to exclude from all relief, and even access of admittance to justice, to your said _irish_ catholick people, and to secure to himself and his posterity, his vast share of their spoils; he the said eminent minister did against your sacred brother's royal promise and sanction aforesaid, advise and persuade his late majesty to give, and accordingly obtained his royal assent to two several acts. the one intituled, _an act for the better execution of his majesty's gracious declaration for the settlement of this kingdom of_ ireland, _and satisfaction of the several interests of adventurers, soldiers, and other his majesty's subjects there_. which act was so passed at a parliament held in this kingdom, in the th and th years of his reign. and the other, an act intituled, _an act of explanation_, etc. which act was passed in a session of the parliament held in this kingdom, in the th and th years of his reign, most of the members thereof being such, as forcibly possessed themselves of the estates of your catholic subjects in this kingdom, and were convened together for the sole special purpose of creating and granting to themselves and their heirs, the estates and inheritances of this your kingdom of _ireland_, upon a scandalous, false hypothesis, imputing the traitorous design of some desperate, indigent persons to seize your majesty's castle of _dublin_, on the rd of _october_, , to an universal conspiracy of your catholick subjects, and applying the estates and persons thereby presumed to have forfeited, to the use and benefit of that regicide army, which brought that kingdom from its due subjection and obedience to his majesty, under the peak and tyranny of a bloody usurper. an act unnatural, or rather viperously destroying his late majesty's gracious declaration, from whence it had birth, and its clauses, restorations and uses, inverting the very fundamental laws, as well of your majesty's, as all other christian governments. an act limiting and confining the administration of justice to a certain term or period of time, and confirming the patrimony of innocents unheard, to the most exquisite traytors, that now stand convict on record; the assigns and trustees, even of the then deceased _oliver cromwell_ himself, for whose arrears, as general of the regicide army, special provision is made at the suit of his pensioners. now in regard the acts above mentioned do in a florid and specious preamble, contrary to the known truth in fact, comprehend all your majesty's _roman_ catholick subjects of _ireland_, in the guilt of those few indigent persons aforesaid, and on that supposition alone, by the clause immediately subsequent to that preamble, vest all their estates in his late majesty, as a royal trustee, to the principal use of those who deposed and murthered your royal father, and their lawful sovereign. and furthermore, to the ends that the articles and conditions granted in the year , by authority from your majesty's royal brother, then lodged in the marquess of _ormond_, may be duly fulfilled and made good to your majesty's present _irish_ catholick subjects, in all their parts and intentions, and that the several properties and estates in this kingdom may be settled in their antient foundations, as they were on the st of _october_, . and that all persons may acquiesce and rejoyce under an impartial distribution of justice, and sit peaceably down under his own vine or patrimony, to the abolishing all distinction of parties, countries and religions, and settling a perpetual union and concord of duty, affection, and loyalty to your majesty's person and government in the hearts of your subjects, be it enacted, etc. [here follows the act of repeal.] --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] this preamble is james ii.'s own writing, as appears by "the journal." chapter vi. the act of attainder. chapter xxx. _an act for the attainder of various rebels, and for preserving the interests of loyal subjects._ the authenticity of this act as printed by archbishop king has been questioned, especially by william todd jones in . but we believe its authenticity cannot be successfully contested. lesley, in his "reply" to king, makes no attempt to disprove its existence, but, on the contrary, alludes to it and applauds james for having opposed it. king, however, asserts that the act was kept a secret; and that the persons attainted, or their friends, could not obtain a copy of it. for this jones answers:-- "but the fact (as stated by king) is impossible: conceive the absurdity; an act of parliament is _smuggled_, where? through two houses of lords and commons; of whom were they composed? of catholics crowded with protestants; though leland, upon the authority of king, says there were but fourteen _real_ protestants. well, what did these two houses do? they voted and passed a _secret_ act of attainder of , protestants, which was to lie-by privately in petto, to be brought forward _at a proper time_; unknown, unheard of, by all the protestant part of the kingdom, till _peace_ was restored: and that, according to king, was to be deemed _the proper time_ for a renewal of _war_ and _devastation_, by its publication and execution, and the secret was to be closely kept from nearly , persons by the whole house of commons; by fifty-six peers, including primate boyle, barry lord barrymore, angier lord longford, forbes, the incomparable lord granard (of whom more in my next continuation), parsons lord ross, dopping bp. of meath, otway bp. of ossory, wetenhal bishop of cork, digby bishop of limerick, bermingham lord athenry, st. lawrence lord howth, mallon lord glenmallon, hamilton lord strabane, all protestants and many of them presbyterians, or rather puritans. it was kept close from , persons by all the privy council; by all the clerks of parliament who engross and tack together bills, it was to be kept an entire secret from all the protestants without doors, by all the protestants within the gates of parliament; and this probable, wise politic expectation was entertained _by those catholic peers and representatives_, who through the cloud of war, passion, and uncertainty, could exercise the more than human moderation in solemnly prescribing the narrow bounds of thirty-eight years to all enquirers after titles under the revived court of claims: by those peers and representatives, whose patriotism, political knowledge, and comprehensive minds instructed them to declare the independence of the realm, the freedom of irish trade, and the inestimable value of a marine.--good god, that any man, woman i mean, after such acknowledged, uncontroverted documents of the wisdom and reach of mind of that parliament, could be induced to credit and to advance the forgeries of a vicar of bray under a persecuting protestant administration, for the wicked purpose of calumniating their memory, and defeating the efforts of their posterity for freedom.... "a secret conspiracy by way of statute against the lives of near three thousand people, appears in itself impracticable and fabulous; but that it should have been agitated in open parliament, and in the hearing of the protestant members, and yet expected to have been kept a secret from the protestants, _by these protestant members_, is childish and ridiculous.--in that parliament sat the venerable lord granard, a protestant, and _a constant adherent and companion_ of king james in ireland--'this excellent nobleman had married a lady of presbyterian principles; was protector of the northern puritans; had humanely secreted their teachers from those severities which in england proved both odious and impolitic; and had gained them an annual pension of £ from government.'--(leland, vol. , p. ). 'it was this lord granard to whom the assembled protestants of ulster, by colonel hamilton of tullymore, who was sent to dublin for the sole purpose, unanimously offered the command of their armed association, from their confidence in his protestant principles; but he told mr. hamilton that he had lived loyal all his life, and would not depart from it in his old age; and he was resolved that no man should write rebel upon his gravestone.'--(lesley's "reply," pp. , .) ... is it then likely that this man would be privy to a general protestant proscription, and not reveal it?--and it is probable that such a secret conspiracy by way of statute could pass the houses of commons, and lords, the privy council, and finally the king, and that it never should come to the knowledge of a peer of parliament, a favourite of the court, a resident in dublin, and every day attendant in his place in the upper house?" the intrinsic improbability is well proved here, and would suffice to show king's falsehood as to the secrecy of the act; but if further proof were needed, the authorities which prove the authenticity of the act utterly disprove the secrecy alleged by king. the act is well described, in the london gazette of july to , , and the names are given in print, in a pamphlet licensed in london, the nd day of the year (march th, old style). jones's statement as to the destruction of all papers relating to that parliament having been ordered, under a penalty of £ and incapacity from office, is certain, and we give the clause in our note;[ ] but this clause was not enacted till , and, therefore, could not have affected the acts of , when king wrote in . moreover, we cannot find any trace of richard darling (who professedly made the "_copia vera_" for king) as clerk in the office of the master of the rolls, or in any office, in . a richard darling was appointed secretary to the commissioners for the inspection of forfeitures, by patent dated st of june, william iii. ( ) there certainly are grounds for supposing that some great jugglery, either as to the clauses or names in the act, was perpetrated by this well-paid and unscrupulous williamite. the temptation to fabricate as much of the act (clauses or names) as possible was immense. the want of scruple to commit any fraud is plain upon king's whole book. the likelihood of discovery alone would deter him. probably every family who had a near relative in the "list" would be secured to william's interest, and no part of king's work could have helped more than this act to make that book what burnet called it, "the best fitted to _settle_ the minds" of the people of england, of any of the books published on the revolution. the preamble states truly the rebellion of the northerns to dethrone their legitimate king, and bring in the prince of orange; and that the insurgents, though offered full pardon in repeated proclamations, still continued in rebellion. it enacts that certain persons therein named, who had "notoriously joyned in the said rebellion and _invasion_," or been slain in rebellion, should be attainted of high treason, and suffer its penalties, _unless before the th of august following_ (_i.e._, at least seven weeks from the passing of the act) they came and stood their trial for treason, according to law, when, if otherwise acquitted, the act should not harm them. the number of persons in this clause vary in the different lists from , to , . it cannot be questioned that the persons here _conditionally_ attainted were in arms to dethrone the hereditary sovereign, supported, as he was, by a regularly elected parliament, by a large army, by foreign alliances, and by the good-will of five-sixths of the people of ireland. king he was _de jure_ and _de facto_, and they sought to dethrone him, and to put a foreign prince on the throne. if ever there were rebels, they were. as to their creed, there is no allusion to it. roman catholic and protestant persons occur through the lists with common penalties denounced against both; but neither creed is named in it. we do not say whether those attainted were right or wrong in their rebellion: but the certainty that they were rebels according to the law, constitution, and custom of this and most other nations, justified the irish parliament in treating them as such; and should make all who sympathise with _these_ rebels pause ere they condemn every other party on whom law or defeat have fixed that name. yet even this attaint is but _conditional_; the parties had over seven weeks to surrender and take their trial, and the king could, at any time, for over four months after, grant them a pardon both as to persons and property--a pardon which, whether we consider his necessities and policy, his habitual leniency, or the repeated attempts to win back his rebellious subjects by the offer of free pardon, we believe he would have refused to few. this, too, is certain, that it _has never been even alleged that one single person suffered death under this much talked of act_. of the constitutional character of the act, more presently. the second article attaints persons who had absented themselves "since or shortly before" the th november, , unless they return before the st of september, that is, in about ten weeks. staying in england certainly looked like adhesion to the invader, yet the mere difficulty of coming over during the war should surely have been considered. the third attaint is of persons absent before (some time probably before) th november, , unless they return before the st october, that is, within about fourteen weeks. moreover, a certain number of the persons named in this conditional attaint are excepted from it specially, by a following clause, unless the king should go to england (their usual residence) before st october, , and that after his arrival they should neglect to signify their loyalty to the satisfaction of his majesty. yet harris and "the list" licensed th march, , have the audacity to _add_ these english residents and make another list of attainted persons, _instead of deducting_ them from the list under clause . with similar want of faith, both these writers make out a fifth list of attaints of the persons explicitly not attainted, but whose _rents_ are forfeited by sec. , so long as they continue absentees. thus, two out of the five lists, by adding which harris makes up his , attaints, are not lists of attainders at all, and one of them should be rather deducted from one of the three lists of real attaints. harris has under this exception for english residents names (though printed in totting), and were we to deduct these and the fifth list of persons, his number of attaints would fall to , ; though he himself confesses that there must be some small drawback for persons attainted twice under different descriptions; and though his own totting, without removing either the fourth or fifth list, is only , , yet in his text he says, "about , " were attainted. yet harris and "the list" pamphlet, which give the names in schedules, were more likely to misplace the lists than king, and he certainly did so in reference to the fourth list. names. king's first list, like the rest, contains , his second and his third ------ , and deducting the names in list ------ king's list falls to , yet even in this many are attainted twice over. harris's second list and "the list's" third list, each of names, should be under title , namely, english residents, containing in king. harris's third list of names should be second, namely, absentees since th november, containing in king , and in "the list" names. harris's fourth list of , and "the list's" fourth list of names, should go to no. in king, containing only names, viz., of persons absent before th november. without making these corrections, we would have the conditional attaints, under clauses , , and , amount in "the list" to , , in harris to , , and in king to , . but if we make these corrections, king's will remain at , , harris's rise to , , and "the list" to , . it would, we think, puzzle la place to calculate the probability of any particular name being authentic amid this wilderness of inaccuracies. the fifth class of persons are, as we said, _not attainted at all_. the th section declares them to be absent from nonage, infirmity, etc., and denounces no penalty against their persons, but "it being much to the weakening and impoverishing of this realm, that any of the rents or profits of the lands, tenements, of hereditaments thereof should be sent into or spent in any other place beyond the seas, but that the same should be kept and employed within the realm for the better support and defence thereof," it vests the properties of these absentees in the king, until such time as these absentees return and apply by petition to the chancery or exchequer for their restoration. harder penalties for absenteeism were enacted repeatedly before, and considering the necessities of ireland in that awful struggle, this provision seems just, mild, and proper. by the fourth section, all the goods and properties of _all_ the first four classes of absentees were also vested in the king till their return, acquittal, pardon or discharge. by the th and th sections, remainders and reversions to innocent persons after any estate for lives forfeited by the act, are saved and preserved, provided (by the th section) claims to them are made within days after the first sitting of the court of claims under the act. but remainders in settlements, of which the uses could be changed, or where the lands were "plantation" lands, etc., were not saved. whether such a court of claims ever sat is at least doubtful. by the th and th sections, the rights and incumbrances of non-forfeiting persons over the forfeited estates are saved, provided (by section ) their claims are made, as in case of remainder-men, etc. the th section makes void lord strafford's abominable "offices," or confiscations of connaught, clare, limerick, and tipperary, and confirms the titles of the right owners, as if these offices had not been found. the th section repeals a private act for conferring vast estates on lord albemarle out of the forfeitures on the restoration. the remaining clauses, except the last, have nothing to do with the attainders. they are subsidiary to the act repealing the acts of settlement and explanation. they reprize ancient proprietors, who had bought or taken leases of their own estates from the owners under the settlement acts. the th section provides for the completion of the down or strafford survey, and for the reduction of excessive quit rents. in this section the phrase occurs, "their majesties," but this is probably a mistake in printing, though a crotchety reasoner might find in it a doubt of the authenticity of the act. the st and last section provides that any of the persons attainted "who shall return to their duty and loyalty" may be pardoned by royal warrant, provided that such pardon be issued "before the first day of november next, otherwise the pardon to be of no effect." --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] the clause for the destruction of the records of the parliament of , is in an act annulling the attainders and all acts of . "be it enacted by the king's most excellent majesty, by and with the advice and consent of the lords spiritual and temporal and commons in this present parliament assembled, and by the authority of the same, that all and every the acts, or pretended acts, and the rolls whereon the said acts or pretended acts, and every of them, are recorded or engrossed, and all proceedings of what nature or kind soever had, made, done, or passed by the said persons lately so assembled at dublin, pretending to be or calling themselves by the name of a parliament, and also all writs issued in order to the calling of the said pretended parliament, and returned into any office in this kingdom, and there remaining, and all the journals of the said pretended parliament, and other books or writings in any wise relating thereunto, or to the holding thereof, shall, by the officers or persons in whose custody the same are, be brought before the lord deputy, or other chief governour or governours of this kingdom for the time being, at such time as the lord deputy, or other chief governour or governours for the time being shall appoint, at the council chamber in dublin, and there shall be publicly and openly cancelled and utterly destroyed: and in case any officer or person in whose hands or custody the said acts and rolls or proceedings, or any of them, do or shall remain, shall wilfully neglect or refuse to produce the same, to the intent that the same may be cancelled and destroyed, according to the true intent of this act, every such person and officer shall be, and is hereby adjudged and declared to be from thenceforth incapable of any office or employment whatsoever, and shall forfeit and pay the sum of five hundred pounds, one-half thereof to his majesty, and the other half to such person or persons that shall sue for the same by any action of debt, bill, plaint, or information, in any court of record whatsoever."-- _will. iii. ir. c. ._ "_it is possible_ an outline of some such bill might have been prepared by one of those hot-headed people of whom james had too many in his councils either for his safety or for his reputation, and they were chiefly english; and that such draft of a bill having been laid before _parliament_, that wise, patriotic and sagacious _body_ did ameliorate and reduce it into 'the statute for the revival of the court of claims'; a law so unparalleled from its moderation in its review of forfeitures, by going back to _cromwell's debentures exclusively_; a period of only thirty-eight years anterior to the date of their then sitting. "such a _draft of a bill_, like our own protestant bill for the castration of romish priests, _which did pass_ here but was cushioned in england,[ ] or like the _threat of a bill for levelling popish chapels_, which i myself heard made when i sat in the house of commons, such a draft of a bill, i say, might have been found among the baggage of the duke of tyrconnel, of sir richard nagle, or of the unfortunate sovereign himself, for burnet acquaints us, that all tyrconnel's papers were taken in the camp; and those of james were found in dublin." (burnet's "own times," vol. nd, p. ). [ ] this is not quite correct. the penalty in the bill, as it passed the irish house of commons, was branding on the cheek. in sending the bill on to england the irish privy council substituted castration. the english government restored the original penalty. the bill ultimately fell through, but not, it would seem, on this point. see lecky, "history of england," vol. i., ch. ii.--t. w. r. chapter vii. conclusion. let us now run our eyes ever the deeds of the feis or parliament of . it came into power at the end of a half century of which the beginning was a civil and religious, social and proprietal persecution, combining all the atrocities to which ireland had been alternatively subject for four centuries and a half. of this, the next stage was a partial insurrection, rendered universal by a bloody and rapacious government. the next stage was a war, in which civil and religious quarrels were so fiendishly combined that it could not end while there was any one to fight with; in which the royalist dignitaries were the cruelest foes of the royalist armies and people, and in which the services done by cool and patriot soldiers were rendered useless by factious theologians. the next stage was conquest, slaughter, exile, confiscation, and the repose of solitude or of slavery. the next was a restoration which gave back its worst prerogatives to the crown, but gave the restorers and royalists only a skirt of their properties. then came a struggle for proprietal justice and religious toleration, met by an infamous conspiracy of the deceptious aristocracy and the fanatic people of england, to blast the characters of the irish, and decimate the men; and lastly, a king, who strained his prerogative to do them justice, is driven from england by a dutchman, supported by blue guards, black guards, and flaming lies, and is forced to throw himself on the generosity and prudence of ireland. a faction existed who raised a civil war in every province; and in every province, save one, it was suppressed; but in that one it continued, and the sails of an invading fleet already flap in the channel breeze when this parliament is summoned. how difficult was their position! how could they act as freemen, without appearing ungenerous to a refugee and benefactor king? how guard their nationality, without quarrelling with him or alienating england from him? how could they do that proprietal justice and grant that religious liberty for which the country had been struggling? how check civil war--how sustain a war by the resources of a distracted country? yet all this the irish parliament did, and more too; for they established the principal parts of a code needful for the _permanent_ liberty and prosperity of ireland. take up the list of acts passed in their session of seventy-two days and run over them. they begin by recognising their lawful king who had thrown himself among them. they pledge themselves to him against his powerful foe. knowing full well the struggle that was before them, and that lukewarm and malcontent agents might ruin them, they tossed aside those official claims, which in times of peace and safety should be sacred. but their next act deserves more notice. it must not be forgotten that molyneux's "case of ireland," which the parliaments of england and ireland first burnt, and ended by declaring and enacting as sound law, was published in , just ten years after this parliament of james's. doubtless the antique rights of the native irish, the comparative independence of the pale, the arguments of darcy, the memory of the council of kilkenny, might suggest to molyneux those principles of independence, which one of his cast of mind would hardly reach by general reasoning. but why go so far back, and to so much less apt precedents? here, in the parliament of , was a law made declaring ireland to be and to have always been a "distinct kingdom" from england; "always governed by his majesty and his predecessors according to the ancient customs, laws, and statutes thereof, and that the parliament of ireland, and that _alone_, could make laws to bind this kingdom;" and expressly enacting and declaring that no law save such as the irish parliament might make should bind ireland. and this act prohibited all english jurisdiction in ireland, and all appeals to the english peers or to any other court out of ireland. is not this the whole argument of molyneux, the hope of swift and lucas, the attempt of flood, the achievement of grattan and the volunteers? is not this an epitome of the protestant patriot attempts, from the revolution to the dungannon convention? is not this the soul of ' ? surely, if it be, as it is, just to track the stream of liberation back to molyneux, we should not stop there; but when we find that a parliament which sat only ten years before his book was published, which must have been a daily subject of conversation--as it certainly was of written polemics--during those ten years; when we find this upper fountain so obviously streaming into the thought of molyneux, should we not associate the parliament of with that of , and place nagle and rice and its other ruling spirits along with flood and grattan in our gratitude? moreover, the lords and commons expressly repealed poyning's law, and passed a bill creating irish inns of court, and abolishing the rules for keeping terms in london. but the king rejected these. we are to this day without this benefit which the senate of ' tried to give us; and the future advocates and judges of ireland are hauled off to a foreign and dissolute capital to go through an idle and expensive ceremony, term after term, as an essential to being allowed to practise in the courts of this their native kingdom. the act (c. .) for restoring the ancient gentry to their possessions, we have already canvassed. it were monstrous to suppose the parliament ought to have respected the thirty-eight years' usurpation of savage invaders, and to have overlooked the rights of the national chieftains, the plundered proprietors who lived, and whose families lived, to claim their rights. the care with which purchasers and incumbrancers were to be reprized we have already noticed; yet we cannot but repeat our regret that the bill of the lords (which left the adventurers of cromwell a moiety of their usurpations) did not pass. naturally related to this are the acts, c. , for vesting attainted absentees' goods in the king, and c. , attainting a number of insurgents. we have already shown from king, that the whigs had taken good care of the two things forfeited--their chattels, which they had sent to them, without opposition, during the month of march, and their persons, which they put under the guard of the gallant insurgents of derry and fermanagh, or in the keeping of william and the charity of england. how poorly they were treated then in england may be guessed at by the choice men of the impoverished defenders of derry having been left without money, aye, or even clothing or food in the streets of london. we heartily censure this attainder act. it was _the_ mistake of the irish parliament. it bound up the hearts and interests of those who were named in it, and of their children, in william's success. it could not be enforced: they were absent. it could not be terrible till victory sanctioned it, and then it would be needless and cruel to execute. yet, let us judge the men rightly. james had been hunted out of england by lies, treachery, bigotry, cabal, and a dutch invader, for having attempted to grant religious liberty, by his prerogative. those attainted were, nine out of ten, in arms against him and their country. they had been repeatedly offered free pardon. just before the act was brought in, a free pardon, excepting only ten persons, was offered, yet few of the insurgents came in; and james, instead of forbidding quarter, or hanging his prisoners, or any other of the acts of rigour usual in hereditary governments down to our own time, consented to an act requiring the chief persons of the insurrection to come, in periods specified, and amply long enough, to stand their trials. certain it is, as we said before, that though many of these were or became prisoners, none were executed. the act was a dead letter; and considering the principles of the time, surely the act was not wonderful. in order, then, to judge them better, let us see what the other side--the immaculate whigs, who assailed the irish--did when they were in power. of anything previous to the revolution--of the treachery and blood, by law and without law, under the plantagenets, tudors, stuarts, and the commonwealth--'tis needless to speak. but let us see what their neighbours, the williamites, did. the irish attainder act was not brought in till the end of june. now, this is of great value, for the dates of the last papers on ireland, laid before the english commons, having been th june, , they, on the th june, "_resolved_, that leave be given to bring in a bill to attaint of high treason certain persons who are now in ireland, or any other parts beyond the seas, adhearing to their majesties' enemies, and shall not return into england by a certain day."[ ] the very next entry is--"a bill for the attainting certain persons of high treason, was read the first time." "_resolved,_ that the bill be read a second time." here was a bill to attaint persons beyond seas in another kingdom where william had never been acknowledged--where james was welcomed by nine men out of ten--from whence, so far from being able to procure evidence or allow defence, they could but by accident get intelligence and reports once in some months. it is not here pretended that the attainted were habitual residents in england. the bill passed the second reading, and was committeed, june nd, with an instruction to the committee, "that they insert into the bill such other of the persons as were this day _named in the house_, as they shall find cause." again, on the th--"_ordered_, that it be an instruction to the committee, to whom the bill for attainting certain persons is referred, that they prepare and bring in a clause for the _immediate_ seizing the estates of such persons who are _or_ shall be proved to be in arms with the late king james in ireland, or in his service in france." on the th is another instruction to "prepare and bring in a clause that the estates of the persons who are now in rebellion (!) in ireland be applied to the relief of the irish protestants fled into this realm; and also to declare all the proceedings of the pretended parliament and courts of justice, now held in ireland, to be null and void;" the committee "to sit _de die in diem_, till the bill be finished." up to this time they could not have known that any attainder act had been brought in in ireland. on the th july, sergeant trenchard reported, "that the committee had _proof_" (we shall presently see of what kind) "of _several other_ persons being in ireland in arms with king james, and therefore had agreed their names should be inserted in the bill." "ordered, that the bill, so amended, be engrossed." on the th july the bill passed, inserting _august_, , instead of august next, and inserting some christian names. the bill reached the lords. upon the th july a message was sent to the lords urging the despatch of the bill. on the nd august, at a conference, the lords required to know _on what evidence_ the names were introduced as being in ireland, "for, upon their best inquiry, they say they cannot learn some of them have been there--they instanced the lord hunsden." on the rd of august, mr. sergeant trenchard acquaints the house that the names of those who gave evidence at the bar of the house touching the persons who are named in the bill of attainder, being in ireland, were bazill purefoy and william dalton; and those at the committee, to whom the bill was referred, were william watts and math. gun; four persons, two and two giving the whole evidence for the attainder of those who stood by king james in ireland! this report was handed to the lords on the th august. on the th august the lords returned the bill, with some amendments, leaving out lord hunsden and four or five more, and inserting a few others; and upon this day the parliament was prorogued. again, on the th october, a bill was ordered to attaint all such persons as were in rebellion against their majesties. on the th november, certain members were ordered to prepare a bill attainting all who had been in arms against william and mary, since _ th february_, - , or any time since, and all who _have been_, or shall be, _aiding, assisting, or abetting_ them. on the th december the bill was reported and read a first time, and the committee ordered to bring in a bill for sale of the estates forfeited thereby. on the th april, , another bill was ordered, and was read nd april. again, on nd october, another attainder and confiscation bill was brought and passed the commons on the rd december. wearied at length by unsuccessful bills, which the better or more interested feeling of the lords, or the policy of the king, perpetually defeated, they abandoned any further attainder bills, and merely advertized for money on the forfeited lands in ireland. the attainders in _court_ might satisfy them. the commissioners of forfeitures, under william iii., c. , reported to the commons on the th of december, , that the persons outlawed for treason in ireland since the th of february, - , on account of the late rebellion, were , in number. it was abominable for james's parliament to attaint conditionally the rebels against the old king, but reasonable for the whigs to attaint about double the number absolutely, for never having recognized the new king! these , had properties, says the report, to the amount of , , _plantation_ acres, worth £ , a year, and worth in money, £ , , , "besides the several denominations in the said several counties to which no number of acres can be added, by reason of the imperfection of the surveys not here valued." of these , , there were restored under the first commission on the articles of galway and limerick; and under the second commission, having joint properties of , acres, worth £ , a year, or £ , purchase, leaving , persons having , acres, worth £ , a year, or £ , , . yet the fees were monstrous, says the commissioners, in these courts of claims, £ being the register's fees for even _entering_ a claim. william restored property to the amount of , acres, worth £ , per annum, or £ , in all, which would leave as absolutely forfeited property , acres, worth £ , a year, and £ , , in all; and even were we to deduct in proportion, which we ought not, as those pardoned were chiefly the very wealthy few, there would remain over , persons attained by office, after deducting all who carved out their acquittal with shot and sword, and all whom the tenderness or wisdom of the king pardoned. the commissioners state that £ , worth of chattels were seized, not included in the above estimate; nor were houses in dublin, in cork, elsewhere, mills, chief rents, £ , worth of woods, etc., in it. most of these properties had been given away freely by william. amongst his grants they specify all king james's estates, over , acres, worth £ , a year, to mrs. elizabeth villiers, countess of orkney. she was william's favourite mistress. james, to his honour be it spoken, had thrown these estates into the general fund for reprisal of the injured irish. here, then, is certainly not a justification of the parliament of , in passing the attainder act, but evidence from the journals of the english parliament and the reports of their commissioners, that they tried to do worse than the irish parliament (under far greater excuses) are accused of having done, and that the actual amount of punishment _inflicted_ by the williamite courts in ireland far exceeded what the irish parliament of had _conditionally threatened_. the next acts as a class are c. , repealing ministers' money act; c. , granting perfect liberty of conscience to men of all creeds; c. , directing roman catholics to pay their tithes to their own priests; c. , on ulster poundage; c. , appointing those tithes to the _parish_ priests, and recognising as a roman catholic prelate no one but him whom the king under privy signet and sign manual should signify and recognize as such. all these acts went to create religious equality, certainly not the voluntary system; neither party approved of it then; but to make the protestant support his own minister, and the roman catholic his own, without violation of conscience, or a shadow of supremacy. the low salaries (£ to £ a year) of the roman catholic prelates, and their exclusion from parliament, were in the same moderate spirit. again, this parliament introduced the statute of frauds (which, having been set aside, was not adopted until the th william iii.); acts for relief of poor debtors, for the speedy recovery of wages, and for ratifying wills and deeds by persons out of possession. chapter , forbidding the importation of foreign coals, was designed to render this country independent of english trade. at that time the bogs were larger and the people fewer. their opinion that this importation which "hindered the industry of several poor people and labourers who might have employed themselves" in supplying the cities, etc., with turf, reminds us of mr. laing's most able notice in his "norway" of the immense employment to men, women, and children, by the cutting of firewood; and what a powerful means this is of doing that which is as important as the production of wealth, the diffusion of it without any great inequality through all classes. part of c. , encouraging trade, laying heavy import duties on english goods, and giving privileges to irish ships over foreign, especially over english, was the result of sound, practical patriotism. it was necessary to guard our trade, manufactures, and shipping against the rivalry of a near, rich, and aspiring neighbour, that would crush them in their cradles. it was wise to raise the energies of infant adventure by favour, and not trust it in a reckless competition. the example, too, of all countries which had reared up commerce by their own favour and their neighbours' surrender of trade, would have justified them. besides the schools for the navy under c. , c. deals also with schools. we have not the latter act; but, considering james's known zeal for education, his foundation of the kilkenny college, and the spirit of the provision in c. , we may guess the liberality of the other. one of the most distinguished of our living historians has told us that he remembered having seen evidence that this act established a school for general (national) education in every parish in ireland. c. , the act of supply; c. , martial law, and this act, c. , were a code of defence. the supply was proportioned to their abilities: every exertion was made, and all efforts were needed. plowden puts the effect of this c. not ill:-- "although james were averse from passing the acts i have already mentioned, he probably encouraged another which passed _for the advance and improvement of trade and for encouragement and increase of shipping and navigation_, which purported to throw open to ireland a free and immediate trade with all our plantations and colonies; to promote ship-building, by remitting to the owners of irish-built vessels large proportions of the duties of custom and excise, encourage seamen by exempting them for ten years from taxes, and allowing them the freedom of any city or seaport they should chuse to reside in, and improve the irish navy by establishing free schools for teaching and instructing in the mathematics and the art of navigation, in dublin, belfast, waterford, cork, limerick, and galway. if james looked up to any probability of maintaining his ground in ireland he must have been sensible of the necessity of an irish navy. no man was better qualified to judge of the utility of such institutions than this prince. he was an able seaman, fond of his profession; and to his industry and talent does the british navy owe many of its best signals and regulations. the firmness, resolution and enterprise which had distinguished him, whilst duke of york, as a sea officer, abandoned him when king, both in the cabinet and the field." thus, then, this parliament exercised less severity than any of its time; it established liberty of conscience and equality of creeds; it proscribed no man for his religion--the word protestant does not occur in any act--(though, while it sat, the westminster convention was not only thundering out insults against "popery," but exciting william to persecute it, and laying the foundation of the penal code); it introduced many laws of great practical value in the business of society; it removed the disabilities of the natives, the scars of old fetters; it was generous to the king, yet carried its own opinions out against his where they differed; it, finally--and what should win the remembrance and veneration of irishmen through all time--it boldly announced our national independence, in words which molyneux shouted on to swift, and swift to lucas, and lucas to flood, and flood and grattan redoubling the cry; dungannon church rang, and ireland was again a nation. yet something it said escaped the hearing or surpassed the vigour of the last century; it said, "irish commerce fostered," and it was faintly heard, but it said, "an irish navy to shield our coasts," and it said, "an irish army to scathe the invaders," and grattan neglected both, and our coast had no guardian, and our desecrated fields knew no avenger. we have printed the king's speech at the opening of this eventful parliament, the titles of _all_ its acts, and all the statutes summarized in full detail which we could in any way procure--sufficient, we think, with the scattered notices of the chief members, to make the working of this parliament plain. we are conscious of many defects in our information and way of treating the subject; but we commenced by avowing that we were not professors but students of irish history; trying to come at some clear understanding on a most important part of it, communicating our difficulties and offering our solutions, as they occurred to us, in hopes that some of our countrymen would take up the same study, and do as much or more than we have done, and possibly that one of those accomplished historians, of which ireland now has a few, would take the helm from us, and guide the ship himself. we have no reason to suppose that we succeeded in either object; yet we cling to the belief that, owing to us, some few persons will for the future be found who will not allow the calumnies against our noble old parliament of to pass uncontradicted. it might have been better, but this is well. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] the dates about the time of this revolution are most important. on the th october, , william issued an address, dated at the hague, and another from the same place, dated th october, intended to counterwork james's retractations. he landed at torbay, november th, arrived in london december th. some whig lords signed an association, dated december th, pledging themselves to stand by the prince, and avenge him if he should perish. december rd, william issued the letter calling the members of charles ii.'s parliament, the mayor, aldermen, and councillors of london. december th they met, called on the prince to assume the government and issue letters for a convention, and they signed the association of the whig lords. they presented their address th december, it was received december th, and then this little club broke up. december th william issued letters for a convention, which met nd january, - , finally agreed on their declaration against james and his family, and for william and mary, th february; and these, king and queen, were proclaimed th february, - . february th, a bill was brought in to call the convention a parliament; it passed, and received royal assent rd february. by this the lords and gentlemen who met nd january were named the two houses of parliament, and the acts of this convention-parliament were to date from th february. this hybrid sat till th august, and having passed the attainder act was adjourned to th september, and then th october, . this second session lasted till th january, - , when it was stopped by a prorogation to the nd april; but before that day it was dissolved, and a parliament summoned by writ, which met th march, , and as a first law, passed an act ratifying the proceedings of the convention. ii. literary and historical essays. means and aids to self-education. "what good were it for me to manufacture perfect iron while my own breast is full of dross? what would it stead me to put properties of land in order, while i am at variance with myself? to speak it in a word: the cultivation of my individual self, here as i am, has from my youth upwards been constantly though dimly my wish and my purpose." "men are so inclined to content themselves with what is commonest; the spirit and the senses so easily grow dead to the impressions of the beautiful and perfect; that every one should study to nourish in his mind the faculty of feeling these things by every method in his power. for no man can bear to be entirely deprived of such enjoyments; it is only because they are not used to taste of what is excellent, that the generality of people take delight in silly and insipid things, provided they be new. for this reason, he would add, 'one ought at least every day to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.'"--_goethe._ we have been often asked by certain of the temperance societies to give them some advice on self-education. lately we promised one of these bodies to write some hints as to how the members of it could use their association for their mental improvement. we said, and say again, that the temperance societies can be made use of by the people for their instruction as well as pleasure. assemblies of any kind are not the _best_ places either for study or invention. home or solitude are better--home is the great teacher. in domestic business we learn mechanical skill, the nature of those material bodies with which we have most to deal in life--we learn labour by example and by kindly precepts--we learn (in a prudent home) decorum, cleanliness, order--in a virtuous home we learn more than these: we learn reverence for the old, affection without passion, truth, piety, and justice. these are the greatest things man can know. having these he is well; without them attainments of wealth or talent are of little worth. home is the great teacher; and its teaching passes down in honest homes from generation to generation, and neither the generation that gives, nor the generation that takes it, lays down plans for bringing it to pass. again, to come to designed learning. we learn arts and professions by apprenticeships, that is, much after the fashion we learned walking, or stitching, or fire-making, or love-making at home--by example, precept, and practice combined. apprentices at anything, from ditching, basket-work, or watch-making, to merchant-trading, legislation, or surgery, submit either to a nominal or an actual apprenticeship. they see other men do these things, they desire to do the same, and they learn to do so by watching _how_, and _when_, and asking, or guessing _why_ each part of the business is done; and as fast as they know, or are supposed to know, any one part, whether it be sloping the ditch, or totting the accounts, or dressing the limb, they begin to do that, and, being directed when they fail, they learn at last to do it well, and are thereby prepared to attempt some other or harder part of the business. thus it is by experience--or trying to do, and often doing a thing--combined with teaching or seeing, and being told how and why other people more experienced do that thing, that most of the practical business of life is learned. in some trades, formal apprenticeship and planned teaching exist as little as in ordinary home-teaching. few men are of set purpose taught to dig; and just as few are taught to legislate. where formal teaching is usual, as in what are called learned professions, and in delicate trades, fewer men know anything of these businesses. those who learn them at all do so exactly and fully, but commonly practise them in a formal and technical way, and invent and improve them little. in those occupations which most men take up casually--as book-writing, digging, singing, and legislation, and the like--there is much less exact knowledge, less form, more originality and progress, and more of the public know something about them in an unprofessional way. the caste system of india, egypt, and ancient ireland carried out the formal apprenticeship plan to its full extent. the united states of america have very little of it. modern europe is between the two, as she has in most things abolished caste or hereditary professions (kings and nobles excepted), but has, in many things, retained exact apprenticeships. marriage, and the bringing up of children, the employment of dependants, travel, and daily sights and society, are our chief teachers of morals, sentiment, taste, prudence and manners. mechanical and literary skill of all sorts, and most accomplishments, are usually picked up in this same way. we have said all this lest our less-instructed readers should fall into a mistake common to all beginners in study, that books, and schooling, and lectures, are the chief teachers in life; whereas most of the things we learn here are learned from the experience of home, and of the practical parts of our trades and amusements. we pray our humbler friends to think long and often on this. but let them not suppose we undervalue or wish them to neglect other kinds of teaching; on the contrary, they should mark how much the influences of home, and business, and society, are affected by the quantity and sort of their scholarship. home life is obviously enough affected by education. where the parents read and write, the children learn to do so too, early in life and with little trouble; where they know something of their religious creed they give its rites a higher meaning than mere forms; where they know the history of the country well, every field, every old tower or arch is a subject of amusement, of fine old stories, and fine young hopes; where they know the nature of other people and countries, their own country and people become texts to be commented on, and likewise supply a living comment on those peculiarities of which they have read. again, where the members of a family can read aloud, or play, or sing, they have a well of pleasant thoughts and good feelings which can hardly be dried or frozen up; and so of other things. and in the trades and professions of life, to study in books the objects, customs, and rules of that trade or profession to which you are going saves time, enables you to improve your practice of it, and makes you less dependent on the teaching of other practitioners, who are often interested in delaying you. in these, and a thousand ways besides, study and science produce the best effects upon the practical parts of life. besides, the _first_ business of life is the improvement of one's own heart and mind. the study of the thoughts and deeds of great men, the laws of human, and animal, and vegetable, and lifeless nature, the principles of fine and mechanical arts, and of morals, society, and religion--all directly give us nobler and greater desires, more wide and generous judgments, and more refined pleasures. learning in this latter sense may be got either at home or at school, by solitary study, or in associations. home _learning_ depends, of course, on the knowledge, good sense, and leisure of the parents. the german jean paul, the american emerson, and others of an inferior sort, have written deep and fruitful truths on bringing up and teaching at home. yet, considering its importance, it has not been sufficiently studied. upon schools much has been written. almost all the private schools in this country are bad. they merely cram the memories of pupils with facts or words, without developing their judgment, taste, or invention, or teaching them the _application_ of any knowledge. besides, the things taught are commonly those least worth learning. this is especially true of the middle and richer classes. instead of being taught the nature, products, and history, first of their own, and then of other countries, they are buried in classical frivolities, languages which they never master, and manners and races which they cannot appreciate. instead of being disciplined to think exactly, to speak and write accurately, they are crammed with rules and taught to repeat forms by rote. the national schools are a vast improvement on anything hitherto in this country, but still they have great faults. from the miserably small grant the teachers are badly paid, and, therefore, hastily and meagrely educated. the maps, drawing, and musical instruments, museums and scientific apparatus, which should be in every school, are mostly wanting altogether. the books, also, are defective. the information has the worst fault of the french system: it is too exclusively on physical science and natural history. fancy a _national_ school which teaches the children no more of the state and history of ireland than of belgium or japan! we have spoken to pupils, nay, to masters of the _national_ schools, who were ignorant of the physical character of every part of ireland except their native villages--who knew not how the people lived, or died, or sported, or fought--who had never heard of tara, clontarf, limerick, or dungannon--to whom the o'neills and sarsfields, the swifts and sternes, the grattans and barrys, our generals, statesmen, authors, orators, and artists, were alike and utterly unknown! even the hedge schools kept up something of the romance, history, and music of the country. until the _national_ schools fall under national control, the people must take _diligent care to procure books on the history, men, language, music, and manners of ireland for their children_. these schools are very good so far as they go, and the children should be sent to them; but they are not _national_, they do not use the irish language, nor teach anything peculiarly irish. as to solitary study, lists of books, pictures, and maps can alone be given; and to do this usefully would exceed our space at present. as it is, we find that we have no more room and have not said a word on what we proposed to write--namely, self-education through the temperance societies. we do not regret having wandered from our professed subject, as, if treated exclusively, it might lead men into errors which no afterthought could cure. what we chiefly desire is to set the people on making out plans for their own and their children's education. thinking cannot be done by deputy--they must think for themselves. the history of ireland. something has been done to rescue ireland from the reproach that she was a wailing and ignorant slave. brag as we like, the reproach was not undeserved, nor is it quite removed. she is still a serf-nation, but she is struggling wisely and patiently, and is ready to struggle, with all the energy her advisers think politic, for liberty. she has ceased to wail--she is beginning to make up a record of english crime and irish suffering, in order to explain the past, justify the present, and caution the future. she begins to study the past--not to acquire a beggar's eloquence in petition, but a hero's wrath in strife. she no longer tears and parades her wounds to win her smiter's mercy; and now she should look upon her breast and say:--"that wound makes me distrust, and this makes me guard, and they all will make me steadier to resist, or, if all else fails, fiercer to avenge." thus will ireland do naturally and honourably. our spirit has increased--our liberty is not far off. but to make our spirit lasting and wise as it is bold--to make our liberty an inheritance for our children, and a charter for our prosperity--we must study as well as strive, and learn as well as feel. if we attempt to govern ourselves without statesmanship--to be a nation without a knowledge of the country's history, and of the propensities to good and ill of the people--or to fight without generalship, we will fail in policy, society, and war. these--all these things--we, people of ireland, must know if we would be a free, strong nation. a mockery of irish independence is not what we want. the bauble of a powerless parliament does not lure us. we are not children. the office of supplying england with recruits, artizans, and corn, under the benign interpositions of an irish grand jury, _shall_ not be our destiny. by our deep conviction--by the power of mind over the people, we say, no! we are true to our colour, "the green," and true to our watchword, "ireland for the irish." we want to win ireland and keep it. if we win it, we will not lose it nor give it away to a bribing, a bullying, or a flattering minister. but, to be able to keep it, and use it, and govern it, the men of ireland must know what it is, what it was, and what it can be made. they must study her history, perfectly know her present state, physical and moral--and train themselves up by science, poetry, music, industry, skill, and by all the studies and accomplishments of peace and war. if ireland were in national health, her history would be familiar by books, pictures, statuary, and music to every cabin and shop in the land--her resources as an agricultural, manufacturing, and trading people would be equally known--and every young man would be trained, and every grown man able to defend her coast, her plains, her towns, and her hills--not with his right arm merely, but by his disciplined habits and military accomplishments. these are the pillars of independence. academies of art, institutes of science, colleges of literature, schools and camps of war, are a nation's means for teaching itself strength, and winning safety and honour; and when we are a nation, please god, we shall have them all. till then we must work for ourselves. so far as we can study music in societies, art in schools, literature in institutes, science in our colleges, or soldiership in theory, we are bound as good citizens to learn. where these are denied by power, or unattainable by clubbing the resources of neighbours, we must try and study for ourselves. we must visit museums and antiquities, and study, and buy, and assist books of history to know what the country and people were, how they fell, how they suffered, and how they arose again. we must read books of statistics--and let us pause to regret that there is no work on the statistics of ireland except the scarce lithograph of moreau, the papers in the second report of the railway commission, and the chapters in _m'culloch's statistics of the british empire_--the repeal association ought to have a handbook first, and then an elaborate and vast account of ireland's statistics brought out. to resume, we must read such statistics as we have, and try and get better; and we must get the best maps of the country--the ordnance and county index maps, price _s._ _d._ each, and the railway map, price £ --into our mechanics' institutes, temperance reading-rooms, and schools. we must, in making our journeys of business and pleasure, observe and ask for the nature and amount of the agriculture, commerce, and manufactures of the place we are in, and its shape, population, scenery, antiquities, arts, music, dress, and capabilities for improvement. a large portion of our people travel a great deal within ireland, and often return with no knowledge, save of the inns they slept in and the traders they dealt with. we must give our children in schools the best knowledge of science, art, and literary elements possible. and at home they should see and hear as much of national pictures, music, poetry, and military science as possible. and finally, we must keep our own souls, and try, by teaching and example, to lift up the souls of all our family and neighbours to that pitch of industry, courage, information, and wisdom necessary to enable an enslaved, dark, and starving people to become free, and rich, and rational. well, as to this national history--l'abbé macgeoghegan published a history of ireland, in french, in volumes, quarto, dedicated to the irish brigade. writing in france he was free from the english censorship; writing for "the brigade," he avoided the impudence of huguenot historians. the sneers of the deist voltaire, and the lies of the catholic cambrensis, receive a sharp chastisement in his preface, and a full answer in his text. he was a man of the most varied acquirements and an elegant writer. more full references and the correction of a few errors of detail would render his book more satisfactory to the professor of history, but for the student it is the best in the world. he is graphic, easy, and irish. he is not a bigot, but apparently a genuine catholic. his information as to the numbers of troops, and other facts of our irish battles, is superior to any other general historian's; and they who know it well need not blush, as most irishmen must now, at their ignorance of irish history. but the association for liberating ireland has offered a prize for a new history of the country, and given ample time for preparation. let no man postpone the preparation who hopes the prize. an original and highly-finished work is what is demanded, and for the composition of such a work the time affords no leisure. few persons, we suppose, hitherto quite ignorant of irish history, will compete; but we would not discourage even these. there is neither in theory nor fact any limit to the possible achievements of genius and energy. some of the greatest works in existence were written rapidly, and many an old book-worm fails where a young book-thrasher succeeds. let us now consider some of the qualities which should belong to this history. _it should, in the first place, be written from the original authorities._ we have some notion of giving a set of papers on these authorities, but there are reasons against such a course, and we counsel no man to rely on us--every one on himself; besides, such a historian should rather make himself able to teach us than need to learn from us. however, no one can now be at a loss to know what these authorities are. a list of the choicest of them is printed on the back of the volunteer's card for this year, and was also printed in the _nation_.[ ] these authorities are not enough for a historian. the materials, since the revolution especially, exist mainly in pamphlets, and even for the time previous only the leading authorities are in the list. the list is not faulty in this, as it was meant for learners, not teachers; but anyone using these authorities will readily learn from them what the others are, and can so track out for himself. there are, however, three tracts specially on the subject of irish writers. first is bishop nicholson's "irish historical library." it gives accounts of numerous writers, but is wretchedly meagre. in harris's "hibernica" is a short tract on the same subject; and in harris's edition of ware's works an ample treatise on _irish writers_. this treatise is most valuable, but must be read with caution, as ware was slightly, and harris enormously, prejudiced against the native irish and against the later catholic writers. the criticisms of harris, indeed, on all books relative to the religious wars are partial and deceptious; but we repeat that the work is of great value. the only more recent work on the subject is a volume written by edward o'reilly, for the iberno-celtic society, on the native irish poets: an interesting work, and containing morsels invaluable to a picturesque historian. by the way, we may hope that the studies for this prize history will be fruitful for historical ballads. too many of the original works can only be bought at an expense beyond the means of most of those likely to compete. for instance, harris's "ware," "fynes moryson," and "the state papers of henry the eighth," are very dear. the works of the archæological society can only be got by a member. the price of o'connor's "rerum hibernicarum scriptores veteres" is eighteen guineas; and yet, in it alone the annals of tigernach, boyle, innisfallen, and the early part of the "four masters" are to be found. the great majority of the books, however, are tolerably cheap; some of the dearer books might be got by combination among several persons, and afterwards given to the repeal reading-rooms. however, persons resident in, or able to visit dublin, cork, or belfast, can study all, even the scarcest of these works, without any real difficulty. as to the qualities of such a history, they have been concisely enough intimated by the committee. it is to be a history. one of the most absurd pieces of cant going is that against history, because it is full of wars, and kings, and usurpers, and mobs. history describes, and is meant to describe, _forces_, not proprieties--the mights, the acted realities of men, bad and good--their historical importance depending on their mightiness, not their holiness. let us by all means have, then, a "graphic" narrative of what was, not a set of moral disquisitions on what ought to have been. yet the man who would keep chronicling the dry events would miss writing a history. he must fathom the social condition of the peasantry, the townsmen, the middle-classes, the nobles, and the clergy (christian or pagan), in each period--how they fed, dressed, armed, and housed themselves. he must exhibit the nature of the government, the manners, the administration of law, the state of useful and fine arts, of commerce, of foreign relations. he must let us see the decay and rise of great principles and conditions--till we look on a tottering sovereignty, a rising creed, an incipient war, as distinctly as, by turning to the highway, we can see the old man, the vigorous youth, or the infant child. he must paint--the council robed in its hall--the priest in his temple--the conspirator--the outlaw--the judge--the general--the martyr. the arms must clash and shine with genuine, not romantic, likeness; and the brigades or clans join battle, or divide in flight, before the reader's thought. above all, a historian should be able to seize on character, not vaguely eulogising nor cursing; but feeling and expressing the pressure of a great mind on his time, and on after-times. such things may be done partly in disquisitions, as in michelet's "france"; but they must now be done in narrative; and nowhere, not even in livy, is there a finer specimen of how all these things may be done by narrative than in augustine thierry's "norman conquest" and "merovingian scenes." the only danger to be avoided in dealing with so long a period in thierry's way is the continuing to attach importance to a once great influence, when it has sunk to be an exceptive power. he who thinks it possible to dash off a profoundly coloured and shaded narrative like this of thierry's will find himself bitterly wrong. even a great philosophical view may much more easily be extemporised than this lasting and finished image of past times. the greatest vice in such a work would be bigotry--bigotry of race or creed. we know a descendant of a great milesian family who supports the union, because he thinks the descendants of the anglo-irish--his ancestors' foes--would mainly rule ireland, were she independent. the opposite rage against the older races is still more usual. a religious bigot is altogether unfit, incurably unfit, for such a task; and the writer of such an irish history must feel a love for all sects, a philosophical eye to the merits and demerits of all, and a solemn and haughty impartiality in speaking of all. need we say that a history, wherein glowing oratory appeared in place of historical painting, bold assertion instead of justified portraiture, flattery to the living instead of justice to the dead, clever plunder of other compilers instead of original research, or a cramped and scholastic instead of an idiomatic, "clear and graphic" style, would deserve rejection, and would, we cannot doubt, obtain it. to give such a history to ireland as is now sought will be a proud and illustrious deed. such a work would have no passing influence, though its first political effect would be enormous; it would be read by every class and side; for there is no readable book on the subject; it would people our streets, and glens, and castles, and abbeys, and coasts with a hundred generations besides our own; it would clear up the grounds of our quarrels, and prepare reconciliation; it would _unconsciously_ make us recognise the causes of our weakness; it would give us great examples of men and of events, and materially influence our destiny. shall we get such a history? think, reader! has god given you the soul and perseverance to create this marvel? --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] the following is the list of books given as the present sources of history:-- some of the original sources of irish history. ancient irish times. annals of tigernach, abbot of clonmacnoise, from a.d. to his death, , partly compiled from writers of the eighth, seventh, and sixth centuries. lives of st. patrick, st. columbanus, etc. annals of the four masters, from the earliest times to . other annals, such as those of innisfallen, ulster, boyle, etc. publications of the irish archæological society, danish and icelandic annals. english invasion and the pale. gerald de barri, surnamed cambrensis, "topography" and "conquest of ireland." four masters, tracts in harris's hibernica. campion's, hanmer's, marlborough's, camden's, holingshed's, stanihurst's, and ware's histories. hardiman's statutes of kilkenny. henry viii. and elizabeth.--harris's ware. o'sullivan's catholic history. four masters. spencer's view. sir g. carew's pacata hibernia. state papers, temp. h. viii. fynes moryson's itinerary. james i.--harris's hibernica. sir john davies' tracts. charles i.--strafford's letters. carte's life of ormond. lodge's desiderata. clarendon's rebellion. tichborne's drogheda. state trials. rinuccini's letters. pamphlets. castlehaven's memoirs. clanrickarde's memoirs. peter walsh. sir j. temple. charles ii.--lord orrery's letters. essex's letters. james ii. and william iii.--king's state of protestants, and lesley's answer. the green book. statutes of james's parliament, in dublin magazine, . clarendon's letters. rawdon papers. tracts. molyneux's case of ireland. george i. and ii.--swift's life. lucas's tracts. howard's cases under popery laws. o'leary's tracts. boulter's letters. o'connor's and parnell's irish catholics. foreman on "the brigade." george iii.--grattan's and curran's speeches and lives--memoirs of charlemont. wilson's volunteers. barrington's rise and fall. wolfe tone's memoirs. moore's fitzgerald. wyse's catholic association. madden's united irishmen. hay, teeling, etc., on ' . tracts. macnevin's state trials. o'connell's and sheil's speeches. plowden's history. compilations.--moore. m'geoghegan. curry's civil wars. carey's vindiciæ. o'connell's ireland. leland. current authorities.--the acts of parliament. lords' and commons' journals and debates. lynch's legal institutions. antiquities, dress, arms.--royal irish academy's transactions and museum. walker's irish bards. british costume, in library of entertaining knowledge. ancient ireland. there was once civilisation in ireland. we never were very eminent, to be sure, for manufactures in metal, our houses were simple, our very palaces rude, our furniture scanty, our saffron shirts not often changed, and our foreign trade small. yet was ireland civilised. strange thing! says someone whose ideas of civilisation are identical with carpets and cut-glass, fine masonry, and the steam engine; yet 'tis true. for there was a time when learning was endowed by the rich and honoured by the poor, and taught all over our country. not only did thousands of natives frequent our schools and colleges, but men of every rank came here from the continent to study under the professors and system of ireland, and we need not go beyond the testimonies of english antiquaries, from bede to camden, that these schools were regarded as the first in europe. ireland was equally remarkable for piety. in the pagan times it was regarded as a sanctuary of the magian or druid creed. from the fifth century it became equally illustrious in christendom. without going into the disputed question of whether the irish church was or was not independent of rome, it is certain that italy did not send out more apostles from the fifth to the ninth centuries than ireland, and we find their names and achievements remembered through the continent. of two names which hallam thinks worth rescuing from the darkness of the dark ages, one is the irish metaphysician, john erigena. in a recent communication to the "association" we had bavarians acknowledging the irish st. killian as the apostle of their country. yet what, beyond a catalogue of names and a few marked events, do even the educated irish know of the heroic pagans or the holy christians of old ireland? these men have left libraries of biography, religion, philosophy, natural history, topography, history, and romance. they _cannot all be worthless_; yet, except the few volumes given us by the archæological society, which of their works have any of us read? it is also certain that we possessed written laws with extensive and minute comments and reported decisions. these brehon laws have been foully misrepresented by sir john davies. their tenures were the gavelkind once prevalent over most of the world. the land belonged to the clan, and on the death of a clansman his share was re-apportioned according to the number and wants of his family. the system of erics or fines for offences has existed amongst every people from the hebrews downwards, nor can anyone, knowing the multitude of crimes now punishable by fines or damages, think the people of this empire justified in calling the ancient irish barbarous because they extended the system. there is in these laws, so far as they are known, minuteness and equity; and what is a better test of their goodness we learn from sir john davies himself, and from the still abler baron finglass, that the people reverenced, obeyed, and clung to these laws, though to decide by or obey them was a high crime by england's code. moreover, the norman and saxon settlers hastened to adopt these irish laws, and used them more resolutely, if possible, than the irish themselves. orderliness and hospitality were peculiarly cultivated. public caravansarais were built for travellers in every district, and we have what would almost be legal evidence of the grant of vast tracts of land for the supply of provisions for these houses of hospitality. the private hospitality of the chiefs was equally marked; nor was it quite rude. ceremony was united with great freedom of intercourse, age, and learning, and rank, and virtue were respected, and these men, whose cookery was probably as coarse as that of homer's heroes, had around their board harpers and bards who sang poetry as gallant and fiery, though not so grand, as the homeric ballad-singers, and flung off a music which greece never rivalled. shall a people, pious, hospitable, and brave, faithful observers of family ties, cultivators of learning, music, and poetry, be called less than civilised because mechanical arts were rude and "comfort" despised by them? scattered through the country in ms. are hundreds of books wherein the laws and achievements, the genealogies and possessions, the creeds and manners and poetry of these our predecessors in ireland are set down. their music lives in the traditional airs of every valley. yet _mechanical civilisation_, more cruel than time, is trying to exterminate them, and, therefore, it becomes us all who do not wish to lose the heritage of centuries, nor to feel ourselves living among nameless ruins, when we might have an ancestral home--it becomes all who love learning, poetry, or music, or are curious of human progress, to aid in or originate a series of efforts to save all that remains of the past. it becomes them to lose no opportunity of instilling into the minds of their neighbours, whether they be corporators or peasants, that it is a brutal, mean, and sacrilegious thing to turn a castle, a church, a tomb, or a mound into a quarry or a gravel pit, or to break the least morsel of sculpture, or to take any old coin or ornament they may find to a jeweller, so long as there is an irish academy in dublin to pay for it or accept it. before the year is out we hope to see a society for the preservation of irish music established in dublin, under the joint patronage of the leading men of all politics, with branches in the provincial towns for the collection and diffusion of irish airs.[ ] an effort--a great and decided one--must be made to have the irish academy so endowed out of the revenues of ireland that it may be a national school of irish history and literature and a museum of irish antiquities on the largest scale. in fact, the academy should be a secular irish college, with professors of our old language, literature, history, antiquities, and topography; with suitable schools, lecture-rooms, and museums. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] like many of the suggestions of thomas davis this has borne fruit. in our own day the irish folk song society ( hanover square, london, w.) as well as the feis ceoil and the gaelic league have done invaluable work in the direction indicated.--[ed.] historical monuments of ireland. we were a little struck the other day in taking up a new book by merimée to see after his name the title of "inspector-general of the historical monuments of france." so then france, with the feeding, clothing, protecting, and humouring of thirty-six million people to attend to, has leisure to employ a board and inspector, and money to pay them for looking after the historical monuments of france, lest the bayeux tapestry, which chronicles the conquest of england, or the amphitheatre of nimes, which marks the sojourn of the romans, suffer any detriment. and has ireland no monuments of her history to guard; has she no tables of stone, no pictures, no temples, no weapons? are there no brehon's chairs on her hills to tell more clearly than vallancey or davies how justice was administered here? do not you meet the druid's altar and the gueber's tower in every barony almost, and the ogham stones in many a sequestered spot, and shall we spend time and money to see, to guard, or to decipher indian topes, and tuscan graves, and egyptian hieroglyphics, and shall every nation in europe shelter and study the remains of what it once was, even as one guards the tomb of a parent, and shall ireland let all go to ruin? we have seen pigs housed in the piled friezes of a broken church, cows stabled in the palaces of the desmonds, and corn threshed on the floor of abbeys, and the sheep and the tearing wind tenant the corridors of aileach. daily are more and more of our crosses broken, of our tombs effaced, of our abbeys shattered, of our castles torn down, of our cairns sacrilegiously pierced, of our urns broken up, and of our coins melted down. all classes, creeds and politics are to blame in this. the peasant lugs down a pillar for his sty, the farmer for his gate, the priest for his chapel, the minister for his glebe. a mill-stream runs through lord moore's castle,[ ] and the commissioners of galway have shaken and threatened to remove the warden's house--that fine stone chronicle of galway heroism. how our children will despise us all for this! why shall we seek for histories, why make museums, why study the manners of the dead, when we foully neglect or barbarously spoil their homes, their castles, their temples, their colleges, their courts, their graves? he who tramples on the past does not create for the future. the same ignorant and vagabond spirit which made him a destructive prohibits him from creating for posterity. does not a man, by examining a few castles and arms, know more of the peaceful and warrior life of the dead nobles and gentry of our island than from a library of books; and yet a man is stamped as unlettered and rude if he does not know and value such knowledge. ware's _antiquities_, and archdall, speak not half so clearly the taste, the habits, the everyday customs of the monks, as adare monastery,[ ] for the fine preservation of which we owe so much to lord dunraven. the state of civilisation among our scotic or milesian, or norman, or danish sires, is better seen from the museum of the irish academy, and from a few raths, keeps, and old coast towns, than from all the prints and historical novels we have. an old castle in kilkenny, a house in galway give us a peep at the arts, the intercourse, the creed, the indoor and some of the outdoor ways of the gentry of the one, and of the merchants of the other, clearer than scott could, were he to write, or cattermole were he to paint, for forty years. we cannot expect government to do anything so honourable and liberal as to imitate the example of france, and pay men to describe and save these remains of dead ages. but we do ask it of the clergy, protestant, catholic, and dissenting, if they would secure the character of men of education and taste--we call upon the gentry, if they have any pride of blood, and on the people, if they reverence old ireland, to spare and guard every remnant of antiquity. we ask them to find other quarries than churches, abbeys, castles and cairns--to bring rusted arms to a collector and coins to a museum, and not to iron or goldsmiths, and to take care that others do the like. we talk much of old ireland, and plunder and ruin all that remains of it--we neglect its language, fiddle with its ruins, and spoil its monuments.[ ] --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] mellifont, founded in by o'carroll, king of oriel.--c.p.m. [ ] see _irish franciscan monasteries_, by c.p.m., c.c. [ ] again we note that, though late in the day, davis's appeal has been answered, and most of the important ancient monuments of the country placed under official protection. the real need now is for scientific exploration of the ancient sites.--[ed.] irish antiquities. there is on the north (the left) bank of the boyne, between drogheda and slane, a pile compared to which, in age, the oldbridge obelisk is a thing of yesterday, and compared to which, in lasting interest, the cathedrals of dublin would be trivial. it is the temple of grange. history is too young to have noted its origin--archæology knows not its time. it is a legacy from a forgotten ancestor, to prove that he, too, had art and religion. it may have marked the tomb of a hero who freed, or an invader who subdued--a brian or a strongbow. but whether or not a hero's or a saint's bones consecrated it at first, this is plain--it is a temple of nigh two thousand years, perfect as when the last pagan sacrificed within it.[ ] it is a thing to be proud of, as a proof of ireland's antiquity, to be guarded as an illustration of her early creed and arts. it is one of a thousand muniments of our old nationality which a national government would keep safe. what, then, will be the reader's surprise and anger to hear that some people having legal power or corrupt influence in meath are getting, or have got, _a presentment for a road to run right through the temple of grange_! we do not know their names, nor, if the design be at once given up, as in deference to public opinion it must finally be, shall we take the trouble to find them out. but if they persist in this brutal outrage against so precious a landmark of irish history and civilisation, then we frankly say if the law will not reach them public opinion shall, and they shall bitterly repent the desecration. these men who design, and those who consent to the act, may be liberals or tories, protestants or catholics, but beyond a doubt they are tasteless blockheads--poor devils without reverence or education--men, who, as wordsworth says-- "would peep and botanise upon their mothers' graves." all over europe the governments, the aristocracies, and the people have been combining to discover, gain, and guard every monument of what their dead countrymen had done or been. france has a permanent commission charged to watch over her antiquities. she annually spends more in publishing books, maps, and models, in filling her museums and shielding her monuments from the iron clutch of time, than all the roads in leinster cost. it is only on time she needs to keep watch. a french peasant would blush to meet his neighbour had he levelled a gaulish tomb, crammed the fair moulding of an abbey into his wall, or sold to a crucible the coins which tell that a julius, a charlemagne, or a philip augustus swayed his native land. and so it is everywhere. republican switzerland, despotic austria, prussia and norway, bavaria and greece are all equally precious of everything that exhibits the architecture, sculpture, rites, dress, or manners of their ancestors--nay, each little commune would guard with arms these local proofs that they were not men of yesterday. and why should not ireland be as precious of its ruins, its manuscripts, its antique vases, coins, and ornaments, as these french and german men--nay, as the english, for they, too, do not grudge princely grants to their museums and restoration funds. this island has been for centuries either in part or altogether a province. now and then above the mist we see the whirl of sarsfield's sword, the red battle-hand of o'neill, and the points of o'connor's spears; but 'tis a view through eight hundred years to recognise the sunburst on a field of liberating victory. reckoning back from clontarf, our history grows ennobled (like that of a decayed house), and we see lismore and armagh centres of european learning; we see our missionaries seizing and taming the conquerors of europe, and, farther still, rises the wizard pomp of eman and tara--the palace of the irish pentarchy. and are we the people to whom the english (whose fathers were painted savages when tyre and sidon traded with this land) can address reproaches for our rudeness and irreverence? so it seems. the _athenæum_ says:-- "it is much to be regretted that the society lately established in england, having for its object the preservation of british antiquities, did not extend its design over those of the sister island, which are daily becoming fewer and fewer in number. that the gold ornaments which are so frequently found in various parts of ireland should be melted down for the sake of the very pure gold of which they are composed, is scarcely surprising; but that carved stones and even immense druidical remains should be destroyed is, indeed, greatly to be lamented. at one of the late meetings of the royal irish academy a communication was made of the intention of the proprietor of the estate at new grange to destroy that most gigantic relic of druidical times, which has justly been termed the irish pyramid, merely because its vast size 'cumbereth the ground.' at mellifont a modern cornmill of large size has been built out of the stones of the beautiful monastic buildings, some of which still adorn that charming spot. at monasterboice, the churchyard of which contains one of the finest of the round towers, are the ruins of two of the little ancient stone irish churches, and three most elaborately carved stone crosses, eighteen or twenty feet high. the churchyard itself is overrun with weeds, the sanctity of the place being its only safeguard. at clonmacnoise, where, some forty years ago, several hundred inscriptions in the ancient irish character were to be seen upon the gravestones, scarcely a dozen (and they the least interesting) are now to be found--the large flat stones on which they were carved forming excellent slabs for doorways, the copings of walls, etc.! it was the discovery of some of these carved stones in such a situation which had the effect of directing the attention of mr. petrie (then an artist in search of the picturesque, but now one of the most enlightened and conscientious of the irish antiquaries) to the study of antiquities; and it is upon the careful series of drawings made by him that future antiquarians must rely for very much of ancient architectural detail now destroyed. as to glendalough, it is so much a holiday place for the dubliners that it is no wonder everything portable has disappeared. two or three of the seven churches are levelled to the ground--all the characteristic carvings described by ledwich, and which were '_quite unique in ireland_,' are gone. some were removed and used as keystones for the arches of derrybawn bridge. part of the churchyard has been cleared of its gravestones, and forms a famous place, where the villagers play at ball against the old walls of the church. the little church, called 'st. kevin's kitchen,' is given up to the sheep, and the font lies in one corner, and is used for the vilest purposes. the abbey church is choked up with trees and brambles, and being a little out of the way a very few of the carved stones still remain there, two of the most interesting of which i found used as coping-stones to the wall which surrounds it. the connection between the ancient churches of ireland and the north of england renders the preservation of the irish antiquities especially interesting to the english antiquarian; and it is with the hope of drawing attention to the destruction of those ancient irish monuments that i have written these few lines. the irish themselves are, unfortunately, so engrossed with political and religious controversies, that it can scarcely be hoped that single-handed they will be roused to the rescue even of these evidences of their former national greatness. besides, a great obstacle exists against any interference with the religious antiquities of the country, from the strong feelings entertained by the people on the subject, although _practically_, as we have seen, of so little weight. let us hope that the public attention directed to these objects will have a beneficial result and ensure a greater share of 'justice to ireland'; for will it be believed that the only establishment in ireland for the propagation and diffusion of scientific and antiquarian knowledge--the royal irish academy--receives annually the munificent sum of £ from the government! and yet, notwithstanding this pittance, the members of that society have made a step in the right direction by the purchase of the late dean of st. patrick's irish archæological collection, of which a fine series of drawings is now being made at the expense of the academy, and of which they would, doubtless, allow copies to be made, so as to obtain a return of a portion of the expense to which they are now subjected. small, moreover, as the collection is, it forms a striking contrast with our own _national_ museum, which, rich in foreign antiquities, is almost without a single object of native archæological interest, if we except the series of english and anglo-saxon coins and mss." the catholic clergy were long and naturally the guardians of our antiquities, and many of their archæological works testify their prodigious learning. of late, too, the honourable and wise reverence brought back to england has reached the irish protestant clergy, and they no longer make antiquity a reproach, or make the maxims of the iconoclast part of their creed. is it extravagant to speculate on the possibility of the episcopalian, catholic, and presbyterian clergy joining in an antiquarian society to preserve our ecclesiastical remains--our churches, our abbeys, our crosses, and our fathers' tombs, from fellows like the meath road-makers? it would be a politic and a noble emulation of the sects, restoring the temples wherein their sires worshipped for their children to pray in. there's hardly a barony wherein we could not find an old parish or abbey church, capable of being restored to its former beauty and convenience at a less expense than some beastly barn is run up, as if to prove and confirm the fact that we have little art, learning, or imagination. nor do we see why some of these hundreds of half-spoiled buildings might not be used for civil purposes--as almshouses, schools, lecture-rooms, town-halls. it would always add another grace to an institution to have its home venerable with age and restored to beauty. we have seen men of all creeds join the archæological society to preserve and revive our ancient literature. why may we not see, even without waiting for the aid of an irish parliament, an antiquarian society, equally embracing the chief civilians and divines, and charging itself with the duties performed in france by the commission of antiquities and monuments? the irish antiquarians of the last century did much good. they called attention to the history and manners of our predecessors which we had forgotten. they gave a pedigree to nationhood, and created a faith that ireland could and should be great again by magnifying what she had been. they excited the noblest passions--veneration, love of glory, beauty, and virtue. they awoke men's fancy by their gorgeous pictures of the past, and imagination strove to surpass them by its creations. they believed what they wrote, and thus their wildest stories sank into men's minds. to the exertions of walker, o'halloran, vallancey, and a few other irish academicians in the last century, we owe almost all the irish knowledge possessed by our upper classes till very lately. it was small, but it was enough to give a dreamy renown to ancient ireland; and if it did nothing else, it smoothed the reception of bunting's music, and identified moore's poetry with his native country. while, therefore, we at once concede that vallancey was a bad scholar, o'halloran a credulous historian, and walker a shallow antiquarian, we claim for them gratitude and attachment, and protest, once for all, against the indiscriminate abuse of them now going in our educated circles. but no one should lie down under the belief that these were the deep and exact men their contemporaries thought them. they were not patient nor laborious. they were very graceful, very fanciful, and often very wrong in their statements and their guesses. how often they avoided painful research by gay guessing we are only now learning. o'halloran and keatinge have told us bardic romances with the same tone as true chronicles. vallancey twisted language, towers, and traditions into his wicker-work theory of pagan ireland; and walker built great facts and great blunders, granite blocks and rotten wood, into his antiquarian edifices. one of the commonest errors, attributing immense antiquity, oriental origin, and everything noble in ireland to the milesians, originated with these men; or, rather, was transferred from the adulatory songs of clan-bards to grave stories. now, it is quite certain that several races flourished here before the milesians, and that everything oriental, and much that was famous in ireland, belonged to some of these elder races, and not to the scoti or milesians. premising this much of warning and defence as to the men who first made anything of ancient ireland known to the mixed nation of modern ireland, we turn with pure pleasure to their successors, the antiquarians and historians of our own time. we liked for awhile bounding from tussuck to tussuck, or resting on a green esker in the domain of the old academicians of grattan's time; but 'tis pleasanter, after all, to tread the firm ground of our own archæologists. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] the reader who wishes to know what modern archæology has to say of this great tumulus may be referred to mr. george coffey's "newgrange," published by hodges, figgis & co., . it dates from about , years earlier than davis supposed. the round towers of ireland.[ ] accustomed from boyhood to regard these towers as revelations of a gorgeous but otherwise undefined antiquity--dazzled by oriental analogies--finding a refuge in their primeval greatness from the meanness or the misfortunes of our middle ages, we clung to the belief of their pagan origin. in fancy we had seen the white-robed druid tend the holy fire in their lower chambers--had measured with the tyrian-taught astronomer the length of their shadows--and had almost knelt to the elemental worship with nobles whose robes had the dye of the levant, and sailors whose cheeks were brown with an egyptian sun, and soldiers whose bronze arms clashed as the trumpets from the tower-top said that the sun had risen. what wonder that we had resented the attempt to cure us of so sweet a frenzy? we plead guilty to having opened mr. petrie's work strongly bigoted against his conclusion. on the other hand, we could not forget the authority of the book. its author we knew was familiar beyond almost any other with the country--had not left one glen unsearched, not one island untrod; had brought with him the information of a life of antiquarian study, a graceful and exact pencil, and feelings equally national and lofty. we knew also that he had the aid of the best celtic scholars alive in the progress of his work. the long time taken in its preparation ensured maturity; and the honest men who had criticised it, and the adventurers who had stolen from it enough to make false reputations, equally testified to its merits. yet, we repeat, we jealously watched for flaws in mr. petrie's reasoning; exulted as he set down the extracts from his opponents, in the hope that he would fail in answering them, and at last surrendered with a sullen despair. looking now more calmly at the discussion, we are grateful to mr. petrie for having driven away an idle fancy. in its stead he has given us new and unlooked-for trophies, and more solid information on irish antiquities than any of his predecessors. we may be well content to hand over the round towers to christians of the sixth or the tenth century, when we find that these christians were really eminent in knowledge as well as piety, had arched churches by the side of these _campanilia_, gave an alphabet to the saxons, and hospitality and learning to the students of all western europe--and the more readily, as we got in exchange _proofs_ of a pagan race having a pelasgic architecture, and the arms and ornaments of a powerful and cultivated people. the volume before us contains two parts of mr. petrie's essay. the first part is an examination of the false theories of the origin of these towers. the second is an account not only of what he thinks their real origin, but of every kind of early ecclesiastical structure in ireland. the third part will contain a historical and descriptive account of every ecclesiastical building in ireland of a date prior to the anglo-norman invasion of which remains now exist. the work is crowded with illustrations drawn with wonderful accuracy, and engraved in a style which proves that mr. o'hanlon, the engraver, has become so proficient as hardly to have a superior in wood-cutting. we shall for the present limit ourselves to the first part of the work on the "erroneous theories with respect to the origin and uses of the round towers." the first refutation is of the "theory of the danish origin of the towers." john lynch, in his _cambrensis eversus_, says that the danes are reported (_dicuntur_) to have first erected the round towers as _watch_-towers, but that the christian irish changed them into _clock_ or bell-towers. peter walsh[ ] repeated and exaggerated the statement; and ledwich, the west british antiquary of last century, combined it with lies enough to settle his character, though not that of the towers. the only person, at once explicit and honest, who supported this danish theory was dr. molyneux. his arguments are that all stone buildings, and, indeed, all evidences of mechanical civilisation, in ireland were danish; that some traditions attributed the round towers to them; that they had fit models in the monuments of their own country; and that the word by which he says the native irish call them, viz., "clogachd," comes from the teutonic root, clugga, a bell. these arguments are easily answered. the danes, so far from introducing stone architecture, found it flourishing in ireland, and burned and ruined our finest buildings, and destroyed mechanical and every kind of civilisation wherever their ravages extended--doing thus in ireland precisely as they did in france and england, as all annals (their own included) testify. tradition does not describe the towers as danish watch-towers, but as christian belfries. the upright stones and the little barrows, not twelve feet high, of denmark, could neither give models nor skill to the danes. they had much ampler possession of england and scotland, and permanent possession of normandy, but never a round tower did they erect there; and, finally, the native irish name for a round tower is _cloic-theach_, from _teach_, a house, and _cloc_, the irish word used for a bell in irish works before "the germans or saxons had churches or bells," and before the danes had ever sent a war-ship into our seas. we pass readily from this ridiculous hypothesis with the remark that the gossip which attributes to the danes our lofty monumental pyramids and cairns, our druid altars, our dry stone caisils or keeps, and our raths or fortified enclosures for the homes or cattle of our chiefs, is equally and utterly unfounded; and is partly to be accounted for from the name of power and terror which these barbarians left behind, and partly from ignorant persons confounding them with the most illustrous and civilised of the irish races--the danaans. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] _the transactions of the royal irish academy_, vol. xx. dublin: hodges & smith, grafton street. [ ] a turbulent and learned franciscan friar who figured in the confederation of kilkenny.--c.p.m. theory of the eastern origin of the round towers. among the middle and upper classes in ireland the round towers are regarded as one of the results of an intimate connection between ireland and the east, and are spoken of as either-- , fire temples; , stations from whence druid festivals were announced; , sun-dials (gnomons) and astronomical observatories; , buddhist or phallic temples, or two or more of these uses are attributed to them at the same time. mr. petrie states that the theory of the phoenician or indo-scythic origin of these towers was stated for the first time so recently as by general vallancey, in his "essay on the antiquity of the irish language," and was re-asserted by him in many different and contradictory forms in his _collectanea de rebus hibernicis_, published at intervals in the following years. it may be well to premise who general charles vallancey was. his family were from berry, in france; their name le brun, called de valencia, from their estate of that name. general vallancey was born in flanders, but was educated at eton college. when a captain in the th royal infantry he was attached to the engineer department in ireland, published a book on field engineering in , and commenced a survey of ireland. during this he picked up something of the irish language, and is said to have studied it under morris o'gorman, clerk of mary's lane chapel. he died in his house, lower mount street, th august, , aged years. his _collectanea_, and his discourses in the royal irish academy, of which he was an original member, spread far and wide his oriental theories. he was an amiable and plausible man, but of little learning, little industry, great boldness, and no scruples; and while he certainly stimulated men's feelings towards irish antiquities, he has left us a reproducing swarm of falsehood, of which mr. petrie has happily begun the destruction. perhaps nothing gave vallancey's follies more popularity than the opposition of the rev. edward ledwich, whose _antiquities of ireland_ is a mass of falsehoods, disparaging to the people and the country. fire temples. vallancey's first analogy is plausible. the irish druids honoured the elements and kept up sacred fires, and at a particular day in the year all the fires in the kingdom were put out, and had to be re-lighted from the arch-druid's fire. a similar creed and custom existed among the parsees or guebres of persia, and he takes the resemblance to prove connection and identity of creed and civilisation. from this he immediately concludes the round towers to be fire temples. now there is no evidence that the irish pagans had sacred fires, except in open spaces (on the hilltops), and, therefore, none of course that they had them in towers round or square; but vallancey falls back on the _alleged existence of round towers in the east similar to ours, and on etymology_. here is a specimen of his etymologies. the hebrew word _gadul_ signifies _great_, and thence a tower; the irish name for a round tower, _cloghad_, is from this _gadul_ or _gad_, and _clogh_, a _stone_: and the druids called every place of worship _cloghad_. to which it is answered--_gadul_ is not _gad_--_clogh_, a _stone_, is not _cloch_, a _bell_. the irish word for a round tower is _cloich-theach_, or bell-house, and there is no proof that the druids called _any_ place of worship _cloghad_. vallancey's guesses are numerous, and nearly all childish, and we shall quote some finishing specimens, with mr. petrie's answers:-- "this is another characteristic example of vallancey's mode of quoting authorities: he first makes o'brien say that _cuilceach_ becomes corruptly _claiceach_, and then that the word _seems_ to be corrupted _clogtheach_. but o'brien does not say that _cuilceach_ is corruptly _claiceach_, nor has he the word _culkak_ or _claiceach_ in his book; neither does he say that _cuilceach seems_ to be a corruption of _clog-theach_, but states positively that it is so. the following are the passages which vallancey has so misquoted and garbled-- "'cuilceach, a steeple, cuilceach cluan-umba, cloyne steeple--this word _is_ a corruption of clog-theach. "'cloig-theach, a steeple, a belfry; _corrupte_ cuilg-theach.' "our author next tells us that another name for the round towers is _sibheit_, _sithbeit_, and _sithbein_, and for this he refers us to o'brien's and shaw's lexicons; but this quotation is equally false with those i have already exposed, for the words _sibheit_ and _sithbeit_ are not to be found in either of the works referred to. the word _sithbhe_ is indeed given in both lexicons, but explained a city, not a round tower. the word _sithbhein_ is also given in both, but explained a fort, a turret, and the real meaning of the word as still understood in many parts of ireland is a fairy-hill, or hill of the fairies, and is applied to a green round hill crowned by a small sepulchral mound. "he next tells us that _caiceach_, the last name he finds for the round towers, is supposed by the glossarists to be compounded of _cai_, a house, and _teach_, a house, an explanation which, he playfully adds, is tautology with a witness. but where did he find authority for the word _caiceach_? i answer, nowhere; and the tautology he speaks of was either a creation or a blunder of his own. it is evident to me that the glossarist to whom he refers is no other than his favourite cormac; but the latter makes no such blunder, as will appear from the passage which our author obviously refers to-- "'_cai i. teach unde dicitur ceard cha i. teach cearda; creas cha i. teach cumang._' "'_cai, i.e._, a house; _unde dicitur ceard-cha, i.e._, the house of the artificer; _creas-cha, i.e._, a narrow house.'" the reader has probably now had enough of vallancey's etymology, but it is right to add that mr. petrie goes through every hint of such proof given by the general, and disposes of them with greater facility. the next person disposed of is mr. beauford, who derives the name of our round towers from _tlacht--earth_; asserts that the foundations of temples for vestal fire exist in rath-na-emhain, and other places (poor devil!)--that the persian magi overran the world in the time of the great constantine, introducing round towers in place of the vestal mounds into ireland, combining their fire-worship with our druidism--and that the present towers were built in imitation of the magian towers. this is all, as mr. petrie says, pure fallacy, without a particle of authority; but we should think "_twelfth_" is a misprint for "_seventh_" in the early part of beauford's passage, and, therefore, that the last clause of mr. petrie's censure is undeserved. this beauford is not to be confounded with miss beaufort. she, too, paganises the towers by aggravating some misstatements of mason's _parochial survey_; but her errors are not worth notice, except the assertion that the psalters of tara and cashel allege that the towers were for keeping the sacred fire. these psalters are believed to have perished, and any mention of sacred fires in the glossary of cormac m'cullenan, the supposed compiler of the psalter of cashel, is adverse to their being in towers. he says:-- "_belltane, i.e., bil tene, i.e., tene bil, i.e._, the goodly fire, _i.e._, two goodly fires, which the druids were used to make, with great incantations on them, and they used to bring the cattle between them against the diseases of each year." another ms. says:-- "_beltaine, i.e., bel-dine; bel_ was the name of an idol; it was on it (_i.e._, the festival) that a couple of the young of every cattle were exhibited as in the possession of _bel; unde beldine_. or, _beltine, i.e., bil-tine, i.e._, the goodly fire, _i.e._, two goodly fires, which the druids were used to make with great incantations, and they were used to drive the cattle between them against the diseases of each year." mr. petrie continues:-- "it may be remarked that remnants of this ancient custom, in perhaps a modified form, still exist in the may-fires lighted in the streets and suburbs of dublin, and also in the fires lighted on st. john's eve in all other parts of ireland. the _tinne eigin_ of the highlands, of which dr. martin gives the following account, is probably a remnant of it also, but there is no instance of such fires being lighted in towers or houses of any description:-- "'the inhabitants here (isle of skye) did also make use of a fire called _tin egin_ (_i.e._), a forced fire, or fire of necessity, which they used as an antidote against the _plague_ or _murrain_ in cattle; and it was performed thus: all the fires in the parish were extinguish'd, and eighty-one marry'd men, being thought the necessary number for effecting this design, took two great planks of wood, and nine of 'em were employed by turns, who by their repeated efforts rubb'd one of the planks against the other until the heat thereof produced fire; and from this forc'd fire each family is supplied with new fire, which is no sooner kindled than a pot full of water is quickly set on it, and afterwards sprinkled upon the people infected with the plague, or upon cattle that have the murrain. and this, they all say, they find successful by experience.'--_description of the western islands of scotland_ (second edition), p. . "as authority for miss beaufort's second assertion, relative to the tower of thlachtga, etc., we are referred to the _psalter of tara_, by comerford (p. ), cited in the _parochial survey_ (vol. iii., p. ); and certainly in the latter work we do find a passage in nearly the same words which miss beaufort uses. but if the lady had herself referred to comerford's little work, she would have discovered that the author of the article in the _parochial survey_ had in reality no authority for his assertions, and had attempted a gross imposition on the credulity of his readers." mr. d'alton relies much on a passage in _cambrensis_, wherein he says that the fishermen on lough neagh (a lake certainly formed by an inundation in the first century, a.d. ) point to such towers under the lake; but this only shows they were considered old in cambrensis's time (king john's), for cambrensis calls them _turres ecclesiasticas_ (a christian appellation); and the fishermen of every lake have such idle traditions from the tall objects they are familiar with; and the steeples of antrim, etc., were handy to the loch n-eathac men. one of the authorities quoted by all the paganists is from the _ulster annals_ at the year . it is--"kl. jenair. anno domini cccc.xlº.viiiº. ingenti terræ motu per loca varia imminente, plurimi urbis auguste muri recenti adhuc reædificatione constructi, cum l.vii. turribus conruerunt." this was made to mean that part of the wall of armagh, with fifty-seven round towers, fell in an earthquake in , whereas the passage turns out to be a quotation from "marcellinus"[ ] of the fall of part of the defences of constantinople--"urbis augustæ!" references to towers in irish annals are quoted by mr. d'alton; but they turn out to be written about the cyclopean forts, or low stone raths, such as we find at aileach, etc. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] author of the _life of thucydides_.--c.p.m. celestial indexes. dr. charles o'connor, of stowe, is the chief supporter of the astronomical theory. one of his arguments is founded on the mistaken reading of the word "_turaghun_" (which he derives from _tur_, a tower, and _aghan_, or _adhan_, the kindling of flame), instead of "_truaghan_," an ascetic. the only other authority of his which we have not noticed is the passage in the _ulster annals_, at the year , in which it is said that certain fidhnemead were burned by lightning at armagh. he translates the word celestial indexes, and paraphrases it round towers, and all because _fiadh_ means witness, and _neimhedh_, heavenly or sacred, the real meaning being holy wood, or wood of the sanctuary, from _fidh_, a wood, and _neimhedh_, holy, as is proved by a pile of _exact_ authorities. dr. lanigan, in his ecclesiastical history, and moore, in his general history, repeat the arguments which we have mentioned. they also bring objections against the alleged christian origin, which we hold over; but it is plain that nothing prevailed more with them than the alleged resemblance of these towers to certain oriental buildings. assuredly if there were a close likeness between the irish round towers and oriental fire temples of proved antiquity, it would be an argument for identity of use; and though direct testimony from our annals would come in and show that the present towers were built as christian belfries from the sixth to the tenth centuries, the resemblance would at least indicate that the belfries had been built after the model of pagan fire towers previously existing here. but "rotundos of above thirty feet in diameter" in persia, turkish minarets of the tenth or fourteenth centuries, and undated turrets in india, which lord valentia thought like our round towers, give no _such_ resemblance. we shall look anxiously for exact measurements and datas of oriental buildings resembling round towers, and weigh the evidence which may be offered to show that there were any pagan models for the latter in ireland or in asia. mr. windele, of cork, besides using all the previously-mentioned arguments for the paganism of these towers, finds another in the supposed resemblance to the nurraggis of sardinia, which are tombs or temples formed in that island, and attributed to the phoenicians. but, alas, for the theory, they have turned out to be "as broad as they're long." a square building, feet in each side, with bee-hive towers at each angle, and a centre bee-hive tower reaching to or feet high, with stone stairs, is sadly unlike a round tower! the most recent theory is that the round towers are hero-monuments. mr. windele and the south munster antiquarian society started this, sir william betham sanctioned it, and several rash gentlemen dug under towers to prove it. at cashel, kinsale, etc., they satisfied themselves that there were no sepulchres or bones ever under the towers, but in some other places they took the rubbish bones casually thrown into the towers, and in two cases the chance underlying of ancient burying-grounds, as proofs of this notion. but mr. petrie settles for this idea by showing that there is no such use of the round towers mentioned in our annals, and also by the following most interesting account of the cemeteries and monuments of all the races of pagan irish:-- history of the cemeteries. "a great king of great judgments assumed the sovereignty of erin, _i.e._, cormac, son of art, son of conn of the hundred battles. erin was prosperous in his time, because just judgments were distributed throughout it by him; so that no one durst attempt to wound a man in erin during the short jubilee of seven years; for cormac had the faith of the one true god, according to the law; for he said that he would not adore stones, or trees, but that he would adore him who had made them, and who had power over all the elements, _i.e._, the one powerful god who created the elements; in him he would believe. and he was the third person who had believed in erin before the arrival of st. patrick. conchobor macnessa, to whom altus had told concerning the crucifixion of christ, _was the first_; morann, the son of cairbre cinncait (who was surnamed mac main), was the second person; and cormac was the third; and it is probable that others followed on their track in this belief. "where cormac held his court was at tara, in imitation of the kings who preceded him, until his eye was destroyed by engus gaibhuaiphnech, the son of eochaidh finn futhairt: but afterwards he resided at acaill (the hill on which serin colaim cille is at this day), and at cenannas (kells), and at the house of cletech; for it was not lawful that a king with a _personal_ blemish should reside at tara. in the second year after the injuring of his eye he came by his death at the house of cletech, the bone of a salmon having stuck in his throat. and he (cormac) told his people not to bury him at brugh (because it was a cemetery of idolaters), for he did not worship the same god as any of those interred at brugh; but to bury him at ros-na-righ, with his face to the east. he afterwards died, and his servants of trust held a council, and came to the resolution of burying him at brugh, the place where the kings of tara, his predecessors, were buried. the body of the king was afterwards thrice raised to be carried to brugh, but the boyne swelled up thrice, so that they could not come; so that they observed that it was 'violating the judgment of a prince' to break through this testament of the king, and they afterwards dug his grave at ros-na-righ, as he himself had ordered. "these were the chief cemeteries of erin before the faith (_i.e._, before the introduction of christianity), viz., cruachu, brugh, tailltin, luachair, ailbe, oenach ailbe, oenach culi, oenach colmain, temhair erann. "oenach cruachan, in the first place, it was there the race of heremon (_i.e._, the kings of tara) were used to bury until the time of cremhthann, the son of lughaidh riabh-n-derg (who was the first king of them that was interred at brugh), viz., cobhlhach coelbregh, and labhraidh loingsech, and eocho fedhlech with his three sons (_i.e._, the three fidhemhna--_i.e._, bres, nar, and lothoe), and eocho airemh, lughaidh riabh-n-derg, the six daughters of eocho fedhlech (_i.e._, medhbh, and clothru, muresc, and drebrin, mugain, and ele), and adill mac mada with his seven brothers (_i.e._, cet, anlon, doche, _et ceteri_), and all the kings _down_ to cremhthann (these were all buried at cruachan). why was it not at brugh that the kings (of the race of cobhthach down to crimthann) were interred? not difficult; because the two provinces which the race of heremon possessed were the province of gailian (_i.e._, the province of leinster), and the province of olnecmacht (_i.e._, the province of connaught). in the first place, the province of gailian was occupied by the race of labhraidh loingsech, and the province of connaught was the peculiar inheritance of the race of cobhtach coelbregh; wherefore it (_i.e._, the province of connaught) was given to medhbh before every other province. (the reason that the government of this land was given to medhbh is because there was none of the race of eochaidh fit to receive it but herself, for lughaidh was not fit for action at the time.) and whenever, therefore, the monarchy of erin was enjoyed by any of the descendants of cobhthach coelbregh, the province of connaught was his _ruidles_ (_i.e._, his native principality). and for this reason they were interred at oenach na cruachna. but they were interred at brugh from the time of crimthann (niadh-nar) to the time of loeghaire, the son of niall, except three persons, namely, art, the son of conn, and cormac, the son of art, and niall of the nine hostages. "we have already mentioned the cause for which cormac was not interred there. the reason why art was not interred there is because he 'believed,' the day before the battle of muccramma was fought, and he predicted the faith (_i.e._, that christianity would prevail in erin), and he said that his own grave would be at dumha dergluachra, where treoit [trevet] is at this day, as he mentioned in a poem which he composed--viz., _cain do denna den_ (_i.e._, a poem which art composed, the beginning of which is _cain do denna den_, etc.). when his (art's) body was afterwards carried eastwards to dumha dergluachra, if all the men of erin were drawing it thence, they could not, so that he was interred in that place because there was a catholic church to be afterwards at the place where he was interred (_i.e._, treoit _hodie_). because the truth and the faith had been revealed to him through his regal righteousness. "where niall was interred was at ochain, whence the hill was called ochain, _i.e._, _och caine_, _i.e._, from the sighing and lamentation which the men of erin made in lamenting niall. "conaire more was interred at magh feci in bregia (_i.e._, at fert conaire); however, some say that it was conaire carpraige was interred there, and not conaire mor, and that conaire mor was the third king who was interred at tara--viz., conaire, loeghaire, and * * * "at tailltin the kings of ulster were used to bury--viz., ollamh fodhla, with his descendants down to conchobhar, who wished that he should be carried to a place between slea and the sea, with his face to the east, on account of the faith which he had embraced. "the nobles of the tuatha de danann were used to bury at brugh (_i.e._, the dagda with his three sons; also lughaidh and oe, and ollam, and ogma, and etan, the poetess, and corpre, the son of etan), and cremhthann followed them because his wife nar was of the tuatha dea, and it was she solicited him that he should adopt brugh as a burial-place for himself and his descendants, and this was the cause that they did not bury at cruachan. "the lagenians (_i.e._, cathair with his race and the kings who were before them) were buried at oenach ailbhe. the clann dedad (_i.e._, the race of conaire and erna) at temhair erann; the men of munster (_i.e._, the dergthene) at oenach culi, and oenach colmain; and the connacians at cruachan." anchorite towers. because simon stylites lived in a domicile, sized "scarce two cubits," _on_ a pillar sixty feet high, and because other anchorites lived on pillars and in cells, dean richardson suggested that the irish round towers were for hermits; and was supported by walter harris, dr. milner, dr. king, etc. the _cloch angcoire_, or hermit's stone, quoted in aid of this fancy, turns out to be a narrow cell; and so much for the hermits! the confusion of tours and towers is a stupid pun or a vulgar pronunciation in english; but in irish gave rise to the antiquarian theory of dr. smith, who, in his _history of cork_, concludes that the round towers were penitential prisons, because the irish word for a penitential round or journey is _turas_! the phallic theory never had any support but poor henry o'brien's enthusiastic ignorance and the caricaturing pen of his illustrator. we have now done with the theories of these towers, which mr. petrie has shown, past doubt, to be either positively false or quite unproved. his own opinion is that they were used-- , as belfries; , as keeps, or houses of shelter for the clergy and their treasures; and , as watch-towers and beacons; and into his evidence for this opinion we shall go at a future day, thanking him at present for having displaced a heap of incongruous, though agreeable, fancies, and given us the learned, the most exact, and the most important work ever published on the antiquities of the ancient irish nation. the irish brigade. when valour becomes a reproach, when patriotism is thought a prejudice, and when a soldier's sword is a sign of shame, the irish brigade will be forgotten or despised. the irish are a military people--strong, nimble, and hardy, fond of adventure, irascible, brotherly, and generous--they have all the qualities that tempt men to war and make them good soldiers. dazzled by their great fame on the continent, and hearing of their insular wars chiefly through the interested lies of england, voltaire expressed his wonder that a nation which had behaved so gallantly abroad had "always fought badly at home." it would have been most wonderful. it may be conceded that the irish performed more illustrious actions on the continent. they fought with the advantages of french discipline and equipment; they fought as soldiers, with the rights of war, not "rebels, with halters round their necks"; they fought by the side of great rivals and amid the gaze of europe. in the most of their domestic wars they appeared as divided clans or abrupt insurgents; they were exposed to the treachery of a more instructed, of an unscrupulous and a compact enemy; they had neither discipline, nor generalship, nor arms; their victories were those of a mob; their defeats were followed by extermination. we speak of their ordinary contests with england from the time of roderick o'connor to that of ' . occasionally they had more opportunities, and their great qualities for war appeared. in hugh (or, rather aodh) o'neill they found a leader who only wanted material resources to have made them an independent nation. cautious, as became the heir of so long a strife, he spent years in acquiring military knowledge and nursing up his clan into the kernel for a nation; crafty as bacon and cecil, and every other man of his time, he learned war in elizabeth's armies, and got help from her store-houses. when the discontent of the pale, religious tyranny, and the intrigues and hostility of spain and rome against england gave him an opening, he put his ordered clan into action, stormed the neighbouring garrisons, struck terror into his hereditary foes, and gave hope to all patriots; but finding that his ranks were too few for battle, he negotiated successfully for peace, but unavailingly for freedom; his grievances and designs remained, and he retired to repeat the same policy, till, after repeated guerillas and truces, he was strong enough to proclaim alliance with spain and war with england, and to defeat and slay every deputy that assailed him, till at last he marched from the triumph of beal-an-ath buidhe[ ] (where marshal bagenal and his army perished) to hold an almost royal court at munster, and to reduce the pale to the limits it had formed in the wars of the roses; and even when the neglect of spain, the genius of mountjoy, the resources and intrigues of england, and the exhaustion and divisions of ireland had rendered success hopeless, the irish under o'ruarc, o'sullivan, and o'doherty vindicated their military character. from that period they, whose foreign services, since dathi's time, had been limited to supplying feudatories to the english kings, began to fight under the flags of england's enemies in every corner of europe. the artifices of the stuarts regained them, and in the reign of charles the first they were extensively enlisted for the english allies and for the crown; but it was under the guidance of another o'neill, and for ireland,[ ] they again exhibited the qualities which had sustained tyrone. the battle of benburb affords as great a proof of irish soldiership as fontenoy. but it was when, with a formal government and in a regular war, they encountered the dutch invader, they showed the full prowess of the irish; and at the boyne, limerick, athlone, and aughrim, in victory or defeat, and always against _immensely superior numbers and armaments_, proved that they fought well at home. since the day when sarsfield sailed the irish have never had an opportunity of refuting the calumny of england which voltaire accepted. in ' they met enormous forces resting on all the magazines of england; they had no officers; their leaders, however brave, neither knew how to organise, provision, station, or manoeuvre troops--their arms were casual--their ignorance profound--their intemperance unrestrainable. if they put english supremacy in peril (and had arklow or ballinahinch been attacked with skill, that supremacy was gone), they did so by mere valour. it is, therefore, on the continent that one must chiefly look for irish trophies. it is a pious and noble search; but he who pursues it had need to guard against the error we have noticed in voltaire, of disparaging irish soldiership at home. the materials for the history of the irish brigade are fast accumulating. we have before us the _military history of the irish nation_, by the late matthew o'conor. he was a barrister, but studied military subjects (as became a gentleman and a citizen), peculiarly interested himself in the achievements of his countrymen, and prepared materials for a history of them. he died, leaving his work unfinished, yet, happily sufficiently advanced to offer a continuous narrative of irish internal wars, from hugh o'neill to sarsfield, and of their foreign services up to the peace of utrecht, in . the style of the work is earnest and glowing, full of patriotism and liberality; but mr. o'conor was no blind partisan, and he neither hides the occasional excesses of the irish, nor disparages their opponents. his descriptions of battles are very superior to what one ordinarily meets in the works of civilians, and any one reading them with a military atlas will be gratified and instructed. the value of the work is vastly augmented by the appendix, which is a memoir of the brigade, written in french, in , and including the war office orders, and all the changes in organisation, numbers, and pay of the brigade to that date. this memoir is authenticated thus:-- "his excellency, the duke of feltré, minister of war, was so kind as to communicate to me the original memoir above cited, of which this is a perfect copy, which i attest. "de montmorency morres (hervé), "adjutant-commandant, colonel. "paris, st september, ." to give any account of the details of mr. o'conor's book we should abridge it, and an abridgment of a military history is a catalogue of names. it contains accounts of hugh o'neill's campaigns and of the wars of william and james in ireland. it describes (certainly a new chapter in our knowledge) the services of the irish in the low countries and france during the religious wars in henri quatre's time, and the hitherto equally unknown actions abroad during charles the second's exile and reign. the wars of mountcashel's (the old) brigade in - , under st. ruth in savoy, occupy many interesting pages, and the first campaigns of the new brigade, with the death of sarsfield and mountcashel, are carefully narrated. the largest part of the work is occupied with the wars of the spanish succession, and contains minute narratives of the battles and sieges of cremona, spire, luzzaca, blenheim, cassano, ramilies, almanza, alcira, malplaquet, and denain, with the actions of the irish in them. here are great materials for our future history of ireland. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] see mitchel's _life of hugh o'neill_, and meehan's _flight of the earls_. dublin: duffy & sons. [ ] owen roe, who defeated monro, . the speeches of grattan.[ ] of the long line of protestant patriots grattan is the first in genius, and first in services. he had a more fervid and more irish nature than swift or flood, and he accomplished what swift hardly dreamed, and flood failed in--an irish constitution. he had immeasurably more imagination than tone; and though he was far behind the great founder of the united irishmen in organising power, he surpassed him in inspiration. the statues of all shall be in our forums, and examples of all in our hearts, but that of grattan shall be pre-eminent. the stubborn and advancing energy of swift and flood may teach us to bear up against wrong; the principles of tone may end in liberation; but the splendid nationality of grattan shall glorify us in every condition. the speeches of grattan were collected and his memoirs written by his son. the latter is an accessible and an invaluable account of his life; but the speeches were out of print, not purchasable under five or six guineas, and then were unmanageably numerous for any but a professed politician. mr. madden's volume gives for a trifle all grattan's most valuable speeches, with a memoir sufficient to explain the man and the orator. on the speeches of grattan here published we have little to say. they are the finest specimens of imaginative eloquence in the english, or in any, language. there is not much pathos, and no humour in them, and in these respects grattan is far less of an irishman, and of an orator too, than curran; but a philosophy, penetrating constitutions for their warnings, and human nature for its guides--a statesman's (as distinguished from an antiquarian's) use of history--a passionate scorn and invective for the base, tyrannical, and unjust--a fiery and copious zeal for liberty and for ireland, and a diction and cadence almost lyrical, made grattan the sudden achiever of a revolution, and will make him for ever one of the very elements of ireland. no other orator is so uniformly animated. no other orator has brightened the depths of political philosophy with such vivid and lasting light. no writer in the language except shakespeare has so sublime and suggestive a diction. his force and vehemence are amazing--far beyond chatham, far beyond fox, far beyond any orator we can recall. to the student of oratory grattan's speeches are dangerously suggestive, overpowering spirits that will not leave when bid. yet, with all this terrible potency, who would not bask in his genius, even at the hazard of having his light for ever in your eyes. the brave student will rather exult in his effulgence--not to rob, not to mimic it--but to catch its inspiration, and then go on his way resolved to create a glory of his own which, however small, being genuine, shall not pale within its sphere. to give a _just_ idea of grattan's rush and splendour to anyone not familiar with his speeches is impossible; but _some_ glimmer may be got by one reading the extracts we shall add here. we shall take them at random, as we open the pages in the book, and leave the reader, untaught in our great orator, to judge, if chance is certain of finding such gems, what would not judicious care discover! let him use that care again and again. "sir, we may hope to dazzle with illumination, and we may sicken with addresses, but the public imagination will never rest, nor will her heart be well at ease; never! so long as the parliament of england exercises or claims a legislation over this country: so long as this shall be the case, that very free trade, otherwise a perpetual attachment, will be the cause of new discontent; it will create a pride to feel the indignity of bondage; it will furnish a strength to bite your chain, and the liberty withheld will poison the good communicated. "the british minister mistakes the irish character; had he intended to make ireland a slave he should have kept her a beggar; there is no middle policy; win her heart by the restoration of her right, or cut off the nation's right hand; greatly emancipate, or fundamentally destroy. we may talk plausibly to england, but so long as she exercises a power to bind this country, so long are the nations in a state of war; the claims of the one go against the liberty of the other, and the sentiments of the latter go to oppose those claims to the last drop of her blood. the english opposition, therefore, are right; mere trade will not satisfy ireland--they judge of us by other great nations, by the nation whose political life has been a struggle for liberty; they judge of us with a true knowledge and just deference for our character: that a country enlightened as ireland, chartered as ireland, armed as ireland and injured as ireland, will be satisfied with nothing less than liberty. "impracticable! impracticable! impracticable! a zealous divine will say; any alteration is beyond the power and wisdom of parliament; above the faculties of man to make adequate provision for clergymen who despise riches. were it to raise a new tax for their provision, or for that of a body less holy, how easy the task! how various the means! but when the proposal is to diminish a tax already established, an impossibility glares us in the face, of a measure so contrary to our practices both in church and state." we were wrong in saying there was no humour in grattan. here is a passage humorous enough, but it is scornful, rhetorical humour:-- "it does not affect the doctrine of our religion; it does not alter the church establishment; it does not affect the constitution of episcopacy. the modus does not even alter the mode of their provision, it only limits the quantum, and limits it on principles much less severe than that charity which they preach, or that abstinence which they inculcate. is this innovation?--as if the protestant religion was to be propagated in ireland, like the influence of a minister, by bribery; or like the influence of a county candidate, by money; or like the cause of a potwalloping canvasser, by the weight of the purse; as if christ could not prevail over the earth unless mammon took him by the hand. am i to understand that if you give the parson s. in the acre for potatoes and s. for wheat, the protestant religion is safe on its rock? but if you reduce him to s. the acre for potatoes and wheat, then jupiter shakes the heavens with his thunder, neptune rakes up the deep with his trident, and pluto leaps from his throne! see the curate--he rises at six to morning prayers; he leaves company at six for evening prayer; he baptises, he marries, he churches, he buries, he follows with pious offices his fellow creature from the cradle to the grave; for what immense income! what riches to reward these inestimable services? (do not depend on the penury of the laity, let his own order value his deserts.) £ a year! £ ! for praying, for christening, for marrying, for churching, for burying, for following with christian offices his fellow-creature from cradle to grave; so frugal a thing is devotion, so cheap religion, so easy the terms on which man may worship his maker, and so small the income, in the opinion of ecclesiastics, sufficient for the duties of a clergyman, as far as he is connected at all with the christian religion. * * * * * "by this trade of parliament the king is absolute; his will is signified by both houses of parliament, who are now as much an instrument in his hand as a bayonet in the hands of a regiment. like a regiment we have our adjutant, who sends to the infirmary for the old and to the brothel for the young, and men thus carted, as it were, into this house, to vote for the minister, are called the representatives of the people! suppose general washington to ring his bell, and order his servants out of livery to take their seats in congress--you can apply this instance. "it is not life but the condition of living--the slave is not so likely to complain of the want of property as the proprietor of the want of privilege. the human mind is progressive--the child does not look back to the parent that gave him being, nor the proprietor to the people that gave him the power of acquisition, but both look forward--the one to provide for the comforts of life, and the other to obtain all the privileges of property." but we have fallen on one of his most marvellous passages, and we give it entire:-- "i will put this question to my country; i will suppose her at the bar, and i will ask her, will you fight for a union as you would for a constitution? will you fight for that lords and that commons who, in the last century, took away your trade, and, in the present, your constitution, as for that king, lords, and commons who have restored both? well, the minister has destroyed this constitution; to destroy is easy. the edifices of the mind, like the fabrics of marble, require an age to build, but ask only minutes to precipitate; and as the fall of both is an effort of no time, so neither is it a business of any strength--a pick-axe and a common labourer will do the one--a little lawyer, a little pimp, a wicked minister the other. "the constitution, which, with more or less violence, has been the inheritance of this country for six hundred years--that _modus tenendi parliamentum_, which lasted and outlasted of plantagenet the wars, of tudor the violence, and of stuart the systematic falsehood--the condition of our connection--yes, the constitution he destroys is one of the pillars of the british empire. he may walk round it and round it, and the more he contemplates the more must he admire it--such a one as had cost england of money millions and of blood a deluge, cheaply and nobly expended--whose restoration had cost ireland her noblest efforts, and was the habitation of her loyalty--we are accustomed to behold the kings of these countries in the keeping of parliament--i say of her loyalty as well as of her liberty, where she had hung up the sword of the volunteer--her temple of fame as well as of freedom--where she had seated herself, as she vainly thought, in modest security and in a long repose. "i have done with the pile which the minister batters, i come to the babel which he builds; and as he throws down without a principle, so does he construct without a foundation. this fabric he calls a union, and to this, his fabric, there are two striking objections--first it is no union; it is not an identification of people, for it excludes the catholics; secondly, it is a consolidation of the irish legislatures--that is to say, a merger of the irish parliament, and incurs every objection to a union, without obtaining the only object which a union professes; it is an extinction of the constitution, and an exclusion of the people. well! he has overlooked the people as he has overlooked the sea. i say he excludes the catholics, and he destroys their best chance of admission--the relative consequence. thus he reasons, that hereafter, in course of time (he does not say when), if they behave themselves (he does not say how), they may see their subjects submitted to a course of discussion (he does not say with what result or determination); and as the ground for this inane period, in which he promises nothing, and in which, if he did promise much, at so remote a period he could perform nothing, unless he, like the evil he has accomplished, be immortal. for this inane sentence, in which he can scarcely be said to deceive the catholic, or suffer the catholic to deceive himself, he exhibits no other ground than the physical inanity of the catholic body accomplished by a union, which, as it destroys the relative importance of ireland, so it destroys the relative proportion of the catholic inhabitants, and thus they become admissible, because they cease to be anything. hence, according to him, their brilliant expectation: 'you were,' say his advocates, and so imports his argument, 'before the union as three to one, you will be by the union as one to four.' thus he founds their hopes of political power on the extinction of physical consequence, and makes the inanity of their body and the nonentity of their country the pillars of their future ambition." we now return to the memoir by mr. madden. it is not the details of a life meagre for want of space, and confused for want of principles, as most little biographies are; it is an estimate--a profound one--of grattan's original nature, of the influences which acted on him from youth to manhood, of his purposes, his principles, and his influence on ireland. henry grattan was twenty-nine years of age when he entered on politics, and in seven years he was the triumphant leader of a people free and victorious after hereditary bondage. he entered parliament educated in the meta-physical and political philosophy of the time, injured by its cold and epigrammatic verse and its artificial tastes--familiar with every form of aristocratic life from kilkenny to london--familiar, too, with chatham's oratory and principles, and with flood's views and example. he came when there were great forces rushing through the land--eloquence, love of liberty, thirst for commerce, hatred of english oppression, impatience, glory, and, above all, a military array. he combined these elements and used them to achieve the revolution of ' . be he for ever honoured! mr. madden defends him against flood on the question of simple repeal. here is his reasoning:-- "it is an easy thing now to dispose of the idle question of simple repeal. in truth, there was nothing whatever deserving of attention in the point raised by mr. flood. the security for the continuance of irish freedom did not depend upon an english act of parliament. it was by irish _will_ and not at english pleasure that the new constitution was to be supported. the transaction between the countries was of a high political nature, and it was to be judged by political reason, and by statesmanlike computation, and not by the petty technicalities of the court of law. the revolution of , as carried by ireland, and assented to by england (in repealing the th george the first), was a political compact--proposed by one country, and acknowledged by the other in the face of europe; it was not (as mr. flood and his partisans construed the transaction) of the nature of municipal right, to be enforced or annulled by mere judicial exposition." this is unanswerable, but grattan should have gone further. the revolution was effected mainly by the volunteers, whom he had inspired; arms could alone have preserved the constitution. flood was wrong in setting value on one form--grattan in relying on any; but both before and after ' flood seems to have had glimpses that the question was one of might, as well as of right, and that national laws could not last under such an alien army. taken as military representatives, the convention at the rotunda was even more valuable than as a civic display. mr. madden censures grattan for having been an elaborate neutral during these reform dissensions; but that the result of _such_ neutrality ruined the convention proves a comparative want of power in flood, who could have governed that convention in spite of the rascally english and the feeble irish whigs. oh, had tone been in that council! in describing grattan's early and enthusiastic and ceaseless advocacy of catholic liberty, mr. madden has a just subject for unmixed eulogy. let no one imagine that the interest of these emancipation speeches has died with the achievement of what they pleaded for; they will ever remain divinest protests against the vice and impolicy of religious ascendency, of sectarian bitterness, and of bigot separation. for this admirable beginning of the design of giving ireland its most glorious achievement--the speeches of its orators--to contemplate, the country should be grateful; but if there can be anything better for it to hear than can be had in grattan's speeches, it is such language as this from his eloquent editor:-- "reader! if you be an irish protestant, and entertain harsh prejudices against your catholic countrymen, study the works and life of grattan--learn from him--for none can teach you better how to purify your nature from bigotry. learn from him to look upon all your countrymen with a loving heart--to be tolerant of infirmities caused by their unhappy history--and, like grattan, earnestly sympathise with all that is brave and generous in their character. "reader! if you be an irish catholic, and that you confound the protestant religion with tyranny, learn from grattan that it is possible to be a protestant and have a heart for ireland and its people. think that the brightest age of ireland was when grattan--a steady protestant--raised it to proud eminence; think also that in the hour of his triumph he did not forget the state of your oppressed fathers, but laboured through his virtuous life that both you and your children should enjoy unshackled liberty of conscience. "but reader! whether you be protestant or catholic, or whatever be your party, you will do well as an irishman to ponder upon the spirit and principles which governed the public and private life of grattan. learn from him how to regard your countrymen of all denominations. observe, as he did, how very much that is excellent belongs to both the great parties into which ireland is divided. if (as some do) you entertain dispiriting views of ireland, recollect that any country containing such elements as those which roused the genius of grattan never need despair. _sursum corda_. be not disheartened. "go--go--my countrymen--and, within your social sphere, carry into practice those moral principles which grattan so eloquently taught, and which he so remarkably enforced by his well-spent life. he will teach you to avoid hating men on account of their religious professions or hereditary descent. from him you will learn principles which, if carried out, would generate a new state of society in ireland." --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] "the select speeches of the right hon. henry grattan. to which is added his letter on the union, with a commentary on his career and character." by daniel owen madden, esq., of the inner temple. dublin: james duffy, . vo, pp. . memorials of wexford. 'twixt croghan-kinshela and hook head, 'twixt carnsore and mount leinster, there is as good a mass of men as ever sustained a state by honest franchises, by peace, virtue, and intelligent industry; and as stout a mass as ever tramped through a stubborn battle. there is a county where we might seek more of stormy romance, and there is a county where prospers a shrewder economy, but no county in ireland is fitter for freedom than wexford. they are a peculiar people--these wexford men. their blood is for the most part english and welsh, though mixed with the danish and gaelic, yet they are irish in thought and feeling. they are a catholic people, yet on excellent terms with their protestant landlords. outrages are unknown, for though the rents are high enough, they are not unbearable by a people so industrious and skilled in farming. go to the fair and you will meet honest dealing, and a look that heeds no lordling's frown--for the wexford men have neither the base bend nor the baser craft of slaves. go to the hustings, and you will see open and honest voting; no man shrinking or crying for concealment, or extorting a bribe under the name of "his expenses." go to their farms and you will see a snug homestead, kept clean, prettily sheltered (much what you'd see in down); more green crops than even in ulster; the national school and the repeal reading-room well filled, and every religious duty regarded. wexford is not all it might be, or all that, with more education and the life-hope of nationality, it will be--there is something to blame and something to lament, here a vice sustained, and there a misfortune lazily borne; yet, take it for all in all, it is the most prosperous, it is the pattern county of the south; and when we see it coming forward in a mass to renew its demand for native government, it is an omen that the spirit of the people outlives quarrels and jealousies, and that it has a rude vitality which will wear out its oppressors. nor are we indifferent to the memories of wexford. it owes much of its peace and prosperity to the war it sustained. it rose in ' with little organisation against intolerable wrong; and though it was finally beaten by superior forces, it taught its aristocracy and the government a lesson not easily forgotten--a lesson that popular anger could strike hard as well as sigh deeply; and that it was better to conciliate than provoke those who even for an hour had felt their strength. the red rain made wexford's harvest grow. theirs was no treacherous assassination--theirs no stupid riot--theirs no pale mutiny. they rose in mass and swept the country by sheer force. nor in their sinking fortunes is there anything to blush at. scullabogue was not burned by the fighting men. yet nowhere did the copper sun of that july burn upon a more heart-piercing sight than a rebel camp. scattered on a hill-top, or screened in a gap, were the grey-coated thousands, their memories mad at burned cabins, and military whips, and hanged friends; their hopes dimmed by partial defeat; their eyes lurid with care; their brows full of gloomy resignation. some have short guns which the stern of a boat might bear, but which press through the shoulder of a marching man; and others have light fowling-pieces, with dandy locks--troublesome and dangerous toys. most have pikes, stout weapons, too; and though some swell to hand-spikes, and others thin to knives, yet, for all that, fatal are they to dragoon or musketeer if they can meet him in a rush; but how shall they do so? the gunsmen have only a little powder in scraps of paper or bags, and their balls are few and rarely fit. they have no potatoes ripe, and they have no bread--their food is the worn cattle they have crowded there, and which the first skirmish may rend from them. there are women and children seeking shelter, seeking those they love; and there are leaders busier, feebler, less knowing, less resolved than the women and the children. great hearts! how faithful ye are! how ye bristled up when the foe came on, how ye set your teeth to die as his shells and round-shot fell steadily; and with how firm a cheer ye dashed at him, if he gave you any chance at all of a grapple! from the wild burst with which ye triumphed at oulart hill, down to the faint gasp wherewith the last of your last column died in the corn-fields of meath, there is nothing to shame your valour, your faith, or your patriotism. you wanted arms, and you wanted leaders. had you had them, you would have guarded a green flag in dublin castle a week after you beat walpole. isolated, unorganised, unofficered, half-armed, girt by a swarm of foes, you ceased to fight, but you neither betrayed nor repented. your sons need not fear to speak of ninety-eight. you, people of wexford, almost all repealers, are the sons of the men of ' ; prosperous and many, will you only shout for repeal, and line roads and tie boughs for a holiday? or will you press your organisation, work at your education, and increase your political power, so that your leaders may know and act on the knowledge that, come what may, there is trust in wexford? the history of to-day. from to --for thirty-six years--the irish catholics struggled for emancipation. _that_ emancipation was but admission to the bench, the inner bar, and parliament. it was won by self-denial, genius, vast and sustained labours, and, lastly, by the sacrifice of the forty-shilling freeholders--the poor veterans of the war--and by submission to insulting oaths; yet it was cheaply bought. not so cheaply, perchance, as if won by the sword; for on it were expended more treasures, more griefs, more intellect, more passion, more of all which makes life welcome, than had been needed for war; still it was cheaply bought, and ireland has glorified herself, and will through ages triumph in the victory of ' . yet what was emancipation compared to repeal? the one put a silken badge on a few members of one profession; the other would give to all professions and all trades the rank and riches which resident proprietors, domestic legislation, and flourishing commerce infallibly create. emancipation made it possible for catholics to sit on the judgment seat; but it left a foreign administration, which has excluded them, save in two or three cases, where over-topping eminence made the acceptance of a judgeship no promotion; and it left the local judges--those with whom the people have to deal--as partial, ignorant, bigoted as ever; while repeal would give us an irish code and irish-hearted judges in every court, from the chancery to the petty sessions. emancipation dignified a dozen catholics with a senatorial name in a foreign and hostile legislature. repeal would give us a senate, a militia, an administration, all our own. the penal code, as it existed since , insulted the faith of the catholics, restrained their liberties, and violated the public treaty of limerick. the union has destroyed our manufactures, prohibits our flag, prevents our commerce, drains our rental, crushes our genius, makes our taxation a tribute, our representation a shadow, our name a by-word. it were nobler to strive for repeal than to get emancipation. four years ago the form of repeal agitation began--two years ago, its reality. have we not cause to be proud of the labours of these two years? if life be counted, not by the rising of suns, or the idle turning of machinery, but by the growth of the will, and the progress of thoughts and passions in the soul, we irishmen have spent an age since we raised our first cry for liberty. consider what we were then, and what we have done since. we had a people unorganised--disgusted with a whig alliance--beaten in a dishonourable struggle to sustain a faction--ignorant of each other's will--without books, without song, without leaders (save one), without purposes, without strength, without hope. the corn exchange was the faint copy of the catholic association, with a few enthusiasts, a few loungers, and a few correspondents. opposite to us was the great conservative party, with a majority exceeding our whole representation, united, flushed, led by the craftiest of living statesmen, and the ablest of living generals. oh, how disheartening it was then, when, day by day, we found prophecy and exhortation, lay and labour, flung idly before a distracted people! may we never pass through that icy ordeal again! how different now! the people are united under the greatest system of organisation ever attempted in any country. they send in, by their collectors, wardens, and inspectors, to the central office of ireland, the contributions needed to carry on the registration of voters, the public meetings, the publications, the law expenses, and the organisation of the association; and that in turn carries on registries, holds meetings, opens reading-rooms, sends newspapers, and books, and political instructions, back through the same channel; so that the central committee knows the state of every parish, and every parish receives the teaching and obeys the will of the central committee. the whig alliance has melted, like ice before the sun, and the strong souls of our people will never again serve the purposes of a faction. the conservative party, without union and without principle, is breaking up. its english section is dividing into the tools of expediency and the pioneers of a new generation--its irish section into castle hacks and national conservatives. meantime, how much have the irish people gained and done? they have received and grown rich under torrents of thought. song and sermon and music, speech and pamphlet, novel and history, essay and map and picture, have made the dull thoughtful and the thoughtful studious, and will make the studious wise and powerful. they have begun a system of self-teaching in their reading-rooms. if they carry it we shall, before two years, have in every parish men able to manufacture, to trade, and to farm--men acquainted with all that ireland was, is, and should be--men able to serve the irish nation in peace and war. in the teeth, too, of the government we held our meetings. they are not for this time, but they were right well in their own time. they showed our physical force to the continent, to ourselves, to america, to our rulers. they showed that the people would come and go rapidly, silently, and at bidding, in numbers enough to recruit a dozen armies. these are literal facts. any one monster meeting could have offered little resistance in the open country to a regular army, but it contained the materials--the numbers, intelligence, and obedience--of a conquering host. whenever the impression of their power grows faint we shall revive them again. the toleration of these meetings was the result of fear; the prosecution of their chiefs sprung from greater fear. that prosecution was begun audaciously, was carried on meanly and with virulence, and ended with a charge and a verdict which disgraced the law. an illegal imprisonment afforded glorious proof that the people could refrain from violence under the worst temptation; that their leaders were firm; and, better than all, that had these leaders been shot, not prisoned, their successors were ready. such an imprisonment served ireland more than an acquittal, for it tried her more; and then came the day of triumph, when the reluctant constitution liberated our chiefs and branded our oppressors. this is a history of two years never surpassed in importance and honour. this is a history which our sons shall pant over and envy. this is a history which pledges us to perseverance. this is a history which guarantees success. energy, patience, generosity, skill, tolerance, enthusiasm created and decked the agitation. the world attended us with its thoughts and prayers. the graceful genius of italy and the profound intellect of germany paused to wish us well. the fiery heart of france tolerated our unarmed effort, and proffered its aid. america sent us money, thought, love--she made herself a part of ireland in her passions and her organisation. from london to the wildest settlement which throbs in the tropics or shivers nigh the pole, the empire of our misruler was shaken by our effort. to all earth we proclaimed our wrongs. to man and god we made oath that we would never cease to strive till an irish nation stood supreme on this island. the genius which roused and organised us, the energy which laboured, the wisdom that taught, the manhood which rose up, the patience which obeyed, the faith which swore, and the valour that strained for action, are here still, experienced, recruited, resolute. the future shall realise the promise of the past. the resources of ireland.[ ] bishop berkeley put, as a query, could the irish live and prosper if a brazen wall surrounded their island? the question has been often and vaguely replied to. dr. kane has at length answered it, and proved the affirmative. confining himself strictly to the _land_ of our island (for he does not enter on the subjects of fisheries and foreign commerce), he has proved that we possess _physical_ elements for every important art. not that he sat down to prove this. taste, duty, industry, and genius prompted and enabled him gradually to acquire a knowledge of the physical products and powers of ireland, and his mastery of chemical and mechanical science enabled him to see how these could be used. thus qualified, he tried, in the lecture-room of the dublin society, to communicate his knowledge to the public. he was as successful as any man lecturing on subjects requiring accurate details could be; and now he has given, in the volume before us, all his lectures, and much more. he then is no party pamphleteer, pandering to the national vanity; but a philosopher, who garnered up his knowledge soberly and surely, and now gives us the result of his studies. there was undoubtedly a good deal of information on the subjects treated of by dr. kane scattered through our topographical works and parliamentary reports, but that information is, for the most part, vague, unapplied, and not tested by science. dr. kane's work is full, clear, scientific, exact in stating places, extent, prices, and every other working detail, and is a manual of the whole subject. in such interlaced subjects as industrial resources we must be content with practical classifications. dr. kane proceeds in the following order:--first, he considers the _mechanical_ powers of the country--viz., its fuel and its water powers. secondly, its _mineral_ resources--its iron, copper, lead, sulphur, marble, slates, etc. thirdly, the agriculture of the country in its first function--the raising of food, and the modes of cropping, manuring, draining, and stacking. fourthly, agriculture in its secondary use, as furnishing staples for the manufacture of woollens, linens, starch, sugar, spirits, etc. fifthly, the modes of carrying internal trade by roads, canals, and railways. sixthly, the cost and condition of skilled and unskilled labour in ireland. seventhly, our state as to capital. and he closes by some earnest and profound thoughts on the need of industrial education in ireland. now, let us ask the reader what he knows upon any or all of these subjects; and whether he ought, as a citizen, or a man of education, or a man of business, to be ignorant of them? such ignorance as exists here must be got rid of, or our cry of "ireland for the irish" will be a whine or a brag, and will be despised as it deserves. we must know ireland from its history to its minerals, from its tillage to its antiquities, before we shall be an irish nation, able to rescue and keep the country. and if we are too idle, too dull, or too capricious to learn the arts of strength, wealth, and liberty, let us not murmur at being slaves. for the present we shall confine ourselves to the subjects of the mechanical powers and minerals of ireland, as treated by dr. kane. the first difference between manufactures now and in _any_ former time is the substitution of machines for the hands of man. it may indeed be questioned whether the increased strength over matter thus given to man compensates for the ill effects of forcing people to work in crowds; of destroying small and pampering large capitalists, of lessening the distribution of wealth even by the very means which increases its production. we sincerely lament, with lord wharncliffe, the loss of domestic manufactures; we would prefer one housewife skilled in the distaff and the dairy--home-bred, and home-taught, and home-faithful--to a factory full of creatures who live amid the eternal roll, and clash, and glimmer of spindles and rollers, watching with aching eyes the thousand twirls and capable of but one act--tying the broken threads. we abhor that state; we prefer the life of the old times, or of modern norway. but, situated as we are, so near a strong enemy, and in the new highway from europe to america, it may be doubted whether we can retain our simple domestic life. there is but one chance for it. if the prussian tenure code be introduced, and the people turned into small proprietors, there is much, perhaps every, hope of retaining our homestead habits; and such a population need fear no enemy. if this do not come to pass, we must make the best of our state, join our chief towns with railways, put quays to our harbours, mills on our rivers, turbines on our coasts, and under restrictions and with guarantees set the steam engine to work at our flax, wool, and minerals. the two great mechanical powers are fire and water. ireland is nobly endowed with both. we do not possess as ample fields of flaming coal as britain; but even of that we have large quantities, which can be raised at about the same rate at which english coal can be landed on our coast. the chief seats of flaming coal in ireland are to the west of lough allen, in connaught, and around dungannon, in tyrone. there is a small district of it in antrim. the stone coal, or anthracite, which, having little gas, does not blaze, and, having much sulphur, is disagreeable in a room, and has been thought unfit for smelting, is found--first, in the kilkenny district, between the nore and barrow; secondly, from freshford to cashel; and thirdly, in the great munster coal country, cropping up in every barony of clare, limerick, cork, and kerry. by the use of vapour with it, the anthracite appears to be freed from all its defects as a smelting and engine coal, and being a much more pure and powerful fuel than the flaming coal, there seems no reason to doubt that in it we have a manufacturing power that would supply us for generations. our bogs have not been done justice to. the use of turf in a damp state turns it into an inferior fuel. dried under cover, or broken up and dried under pressure, it is more economical, because far more efficient. it is used now in the shannon steamers, and its use is increasing in mills. for some purposes it is peculiarly good--thus, for the finer ironworks, turf and turf-charcoal are even better than wood, and dr. kane shows that the precious baltic iron, for which from £ to £ per ton is given, could be equalled by irish iron smelted by irish turf for six guineas per ton. dr. kane proves that the cost of fuel, even if greater in ireland, by no means precludes us from competing with england; he does so by showing that the cost of fuel in english factories is only from to - / per cent., while in ireland it would be only - / to - / per cent., a difference greatly overbalanced by our cheaper labour--labour being over per cent. of the whole expense of a factory. here is the analysis of the cost of producing cotton in england in :-- cotton wool £ , , or per cent. . wages , , " . interest on capital , , " . coals , " . rent, taxes, insurance, other charges, and profit , , " . ---------- ------ £ , , . in water-power we are still better off. dr. kane calculates the rain which falls on ireland in a year at over billion cubic yards; and of this he supposes two-thirds to pass off in evaporation, leaving one-third, equal to nearly a million and a half of horse-power, to reach the sea. his calculations of the water-power of the shannon and other rivers are most interesting. the elements, of course, are the observed fall of rain by the gauge in the district, and the area of the catchment (or drainage) basins of each river and its tributaries. the chief objection to water-power is its irregularity. to remedy this he proposes to do what has increased the water-power on the bann five-fold, and has made the wealth of greenock--namely, to make mill-lakes by damming up valleys, and thus controlling and equalising the supply of water, and letting none go waste. his calculations of the relative merits of undershot, overshot, breast, and turbine wheels are most valuable, especially of the last, which is a late and successful french contrivance, acting by pressure. he proposes to use the turbine in coast mills, the tide being the motive-power; and, strange as it sounds, the experiments seem to decide in favour of this plan. "the turbine was invented by m. fourneyron. coals being abundant, the steam engine is invented in england; coals being scarce, the water-pressure engine and the turbine are invented in france. it is thus the physical condition of each country directs its mechanical genius. the turbine is a horizontal wheel furnished with curved float-boards, on which the water presses from a cylinder which is suspended over the wheel, and the base of which is divided by curved partitions, that the water may be directed in issuing, so as to produce upon the curved float-boards of the wheel its greatest effect. the best curvature to be given to the fixed partitions and to the float-boards is a delicate problem, but practically it has been completely solved. the construction of the machine is simple, its parts not liable to go out of order; and as the action of the water is by pressure, the force is under the most favourable circumstances for being utilised. "the effective economy of the turbine appears to equal that of the overshot wheel. but the economy in the turbine is accompanied by some conditions which render it peculiarly valuable. in a water-wheel you cannot have great economy of power without very slow motion, and hence where high velocity is required at the working point, a train of mechanism is necessary, which causes a material loss of force. now, in the turbine the greatest economy is accompanied by rapid motion, and hence the connected machinery may be rendered much less complex. in the turbine also a change in the height of the head of water alters only the power of the machine in that proportion, but the whole quantity of water is economised to the same degree. thus if a turbine be working with a force of ten horses, and that its supply of water be suddenly doubled, it becomes of twenty horse-power; if the supply be reduced to one-half, it still works five horse-power; whilst such sudden and extreme change would altogether disarrange water-wheels, which can only be constructed for the minimum, and allow the overplus to go to waste." our own predilection being in favour of water-power--as cheaper, healthier, and more fit for ireland than steam--gave the following peculiar interest in our eyes:-- "i have noticed at such length the question of the cost of fuel and of steam power, not from my own opinion of its ultimate importance, but that we might at once break down that barrier to all active exertion which indolent ignorance constantly retreats behind. the cry of 'what can we do? consider england's coal-mines,' is answered by showing that we have available fuel enough. the lament that coals are so dear with us and so cheap in england, is, i trust, set at rest by the evidence of how little influential the price of fuel is. however, there are other sources of power besides coals; there are other motive-powers than steam. of the , horse-power employed to give motion to mills in england, , , even in the coal districts, are not moved by fire, but by water. the force of gravity in falling water can spin and weave as well as the elasticity of steam; and in this power we are not deficient. it is necessary to study its circumstances in detail, and i shall therefore next proceed to discuss the condition of ireland with regard to water-power." dr. kane proves that we have at arigna an _inexhaustible_ supply of the richest iron ore, with coals to smelt it, lime to flux it, and infusible sand-stone and fire-clay to make furnaces of on the spot. yet not a pig or bar is made there now. he also gives in great detail the extent, analysis, costs of working, and every other leading fact as to the copper mines of wicklow, knockmahon, and allihies; the lead, gold, and sulphur mines of wicklow; the silver mines of ballylichey, and details of the building materials and marbles. he is everywhere precise in his industrial and scientific statements, and beautifully clear in his style and arrangement. why, then, are we a poor province? dr. kane quotes forbes, quetelet, etc., to prove the physical strength of our people. he might have quoted every officer who commanded them to prove their courage and endurance; nor is there much doubt expressed even by their enemies of their being quick and inventive. their soil is productive--the rivers and harbours good--their fishing _opportunities_ great--so is their means of making internal communications across their great central plains. we have immense water and considerable fire power; and, besides the minerals necessary for the arts of peace, we are better supplied than almost any country with the finer sorts of iron, charcoal, and sulphur, wherewith war is now carried on. why is it, with these means of amassing and guarding wealth, that we are so poor and paltry? dr. kane thinks we are so from want of industrial education. he is partly right. the remote causes were repeated foreign invasion, forfeiture, and tyrannous laws. ignorance, disunion, self-distrust, quick credulity, and caprice were the weaknesses engendered in us by misfortune and misgovernment; and they were then the allies of oppression; for, had we been willing, we had long ago been rich and free. knowledge is now within our reach if we work steadily; and strength of character will grow upon us by every month of perseverance and steadiness in politics, trade, and literature. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] _the industrial resources of ireland_, by robert kane, m.d., secretary to the council of the royal irish academy, professor of natural philosophy to the royal dublin society, and of chemistry to the apothecaries' hall of ireland. dublin: hodges & smith, college green. the valuation of ireland. the committee of was but meagrely supplied with evidence as to foreign surveys. they begin that subject with a notice of the survey of england, made by order of william the conqueror, and called the doomsday book. that book took six years to execute, and is most admirably analysed by thierry. the following is their summary account of some modern surveys:-- "in france the great territorial survey or _cadastre_ has been in progress for many years. it was first suggested in , and after an interval of thirty years, during which no progress was made, it was renewed by the government of that day, and individuals of the highest scientific reputation, mm. lagrange, laplace, and delambre, were consulted with respect to the best mode of carrying into effect the intention of government. subsequent events suspended any effectual operations in the french _cadastre_ till the year , when a school of topographical engineering was organised. the operations now in progress were fully commenced in . the principle adopted is the formation of a central commission acting in conjunction with the local authorities; the classification of lands, according to an ascertained value, is made by three resident proprietors of land in each district, selected by the municipal council, and by the chief officer of revenue. 'in the course of thirteen years, one-third only of each department had been surveyed, having cost the state £ , per annum. at the rate at which it is carried on, it may be computed as likely to require for its completion a total sum of £ , , , or an acreable charge of - / d.' the delay of the work, as well as the increase of expense, seem to have been the result of the minuteness of the survey, which extends to every district field--a minuteness which, for many reasons, your committee consider both unnecessary and inexpedient to be sought for in the proposed survey of ireland. "the survey of bavaria is of modern date, but of equal minuteness. it is commenced by a primary triangulation, and principal and verification bases; it is carried on to a second triangulation, with very accurate instruments, so as to determine 'all the principal points; the filling up the interior is completed by a peculiar species of plane table; and in order to do away with the inaccuracies of the common chain, the triangulation is carried down on paper to the most minute corners of fields.' _the map is laid down on a scale of twelve inches to the mile, or one-five-thousandth part of the real size; and as it contains all that is required in the most precise survey of property, it is used in the purchase and sale of real estates._ "the cadastre of savoy and piedmont began in , and is stated to have at once afforded the government the means of apportioning justly all the territorial contributions, and to have put an end to litigations between individuals, by ascertaining, satisfactorily, the bounds of properties. "the neapolitan survey under visconti, and that of the united states under heslar, are both stated to be in progress; but your committee have not had the means of ascertaining on what principles they are conducted." the committee adopted a scale for the maps of six inches to a statute mile, believing, apparently with justice, that a six-inch scale map, if perfectly well executed, would be minute enough for buyers and sellers of land, especially as the larger holdings are generally townlands, the bounds of which they meant to include. and, wherever a greater scale was needed, the pentagraph afforded a sufficiently accurate plan of forming maps to it. they, in another point, _proposed_ to differ from the bavarian survey, in omitting field boundaries, as requiring too much time and expense; but they stated that barony, parish, and townland boundaries were essential to the utility of the maps. they also seemed to think that for private purposes their utility would much depend on their being accompanied, as the bavarian maps were, by a memoir of the number of families, houses, size, and description of farms, and a valuation. and for this purpose they printed all the forms. the valuation still goes on of the townlands, and classes of soil in each. the statistical memoir has, unfortunately, been stopped, and no survey or valuation of farms, or holdings as such, has been attempted. we would _now_ only recall attention to the design of the committee of on the subject. they proposed to leave the whole survey to the board of ordnance, and the valuation to civil engineers. the valuation has been regulated by a series of acts of parliament, and we shall speak of it presently. the survey commenced in , and has gone on under the superintendence of colonel colby, and the local control of captain larcom. the following has been its progress:--first, a base line of about five miles was measured on the flat shore of lough foyle, and from thence triangular measurements were made by the theodolite and over the whole country, and all the chief points of mountain, coast, etc., ascertained. how accurately this was done has been proved by an astronomical measurement of the distance from dublin to armagh (about seventy miles), which only differed four feet from the distance calculated by the ordnance triangles. having completed these large triangles, a detailed survey of the baronies, parishes, and townlands of each county followed. the field books were sent to the central station at mountjoy, and sketched, engraved on copper, and printed there. the first county published was derry, in , and now the townland survey is finished, and all the counties have now been engraved and issued, except limerick, kerry, and cork. the survey has also engraved a map of dublin city on the enormous scale of five feet to a statute mile. this map represents the shape and space occupied by every house, garden, yard, and pump in dublin. it contains antiquarian lettering. every house, too, is numbered on the map. one of its sheets, representing the space from trinity college to the castle, is on sale, as we trust the rest of it will be. two other sets of maps remain to be executed. first--maps of the towns of ireland, on a scale of five feet to a mile. whatever may be said in reply to sir denham norrey's demand for a survey of holdings in rural districts does not apply to the case of towns, and we, therefore, trust that the holdings will be marked and separately valued in towns. the other work is a general _shaded_ map of ireland, on a scale of one inch to the statute mile. at present, as we elsewhere remarked, the only tolerable shaded map of ireland is that of the railway commission, which is on a scale of one inch to four statute miles. captain larcom proposes, and the commission on the ordnance memoir recommend, that contour lines should be the skeleton of the shading. if this plan be adopted the publication cannot be for some years; but the shading will have the accuracy of machine-work instead of mere hand skill. contours are lines representing series of levels through a country, and are inestimable for draining, road-making, and military movements. but though easily explained to the eye, we doubt our ability to teach their meaning by words only. to return to the townland or six-inch survey. the names were corrected by messrs. petrie, o'donovan, and curry, from every source accessible in _ireland_. its maps contain the county, barony, parish, townland, and glebe boundaries, names and acreage; names and representations of all cities, towns, demesnes, farms, ruins, collieries, forges, limekilns, tanneries, bleach-greens, wells, etc., etc.; also of all roads, rivers, canals, bridges, locks, weirs, bogs, ruins, churches, chapels; they have also the number of feet of every little swell of land, and a mark for every cabin. of course these maps run to an immense number. thus, for the county of galway there are double folio sheets, and for the small county of dublin, . where less than half the sheet is covered with engraving (as occurs towards the edges of a county) the sheet is sold, uncoloured, for _s._ _d._; where more than half is covered the price is _s._ in order to enable you to find any sheet so as to know the bearings of its ground on any other, there is printed for each county an index map, representing the whole county on one sheet. this sheet is on a small scale (from one to three miles to an inch), but contains in smaller type the baronies and parishes, roads, rivers, demesnes, and most of the information of general interest. this index map is divided by lines into as many oblong spaces as there are maps of the six-inch scale, and the spaces are numbered to correspond with the six-inch map. on the sides of the index maps are tables of the acreage of the baronies and parishes; and examples of the sort of marks and type used for each class of subjects in the _six-inch_ maps. uncoloured, the index map, representing a whole county, is sold for _s._ _d._ whenever those maps are re-engraved, the irish words will, we trust, be spelled in an irish and civilised orthography, and not barbarously, as at present. it was proposed to print for each county one or more volumes, containing the history of the district and its antiquities, the numbers, and past and present state and occupations of the people, the state of its agriculture, manufactures, mines, and fisheries, and what means of extending these existed in the county, and its natural history, including geology, zoology, etc. all this was done for the town of derry, much to the service and satisfaction of its people. all this ought to be _as fully_ done for armagh, dublin, cork, and every other part of ireland. the commissioners recommend that the geology of ireland (and we would add natural history generally) should be investigated and published, not by the topographical surveyors nor in counties, but by a special board, and for the whole of ireland; and they are right, for our plants, rocks, and animals are not within civil or even obvious topographical boundaries, and we have plenty of irishmen qualified to execute it. they also advise that the statistics should be entrusted to a statistical staff, to be permanently kept up in ireland. this staff would take the census every ten years, and would in the intervals between the beginning and ending of each census have plenty of statistical business to do for parliament (irish or imperial) and for public departments. if we are ever to have a registry of births, deaths (with the circumstances of each case), and marriages, some such staff will be essential to inspect the registry, and work up information from it. but the history, antiquities, and industrial resources, the commissioners recommend to have published in county volumes. they are too solicitous about keeping such volumes to small dimensions; but the rest of their plans are admirable. the value of this to ireland, whether she be a nation or a province, cannot be overrated. from the farmer and mechanic to the philosopher, general, and statesman, the benefit will extend, and yet so careless or so hostile are ministers that they have not conceded it, and so feeble by dulness or disunion are irishmen and irish members, that they cannot extort even this. we now come to the last branch of the subject-- the valuation. the committee of recommended only principles of valuation. they were three, viz.:-- "§ . a fixed and uniform principle of valuation applicable throughout the whole work, and enabling the valuation not only of townlands, but that of counties to be compared by one common measure. § . a central authority, under the appointment of government, for direction and superintendence, and for the generalisation of the returns made in detail. § . local assistance, regularly organised, furnishing information on the spot, and forming a check for the protection of private rights." accordingly, on the th of july, , an act was passed requiring, in the first instance, the entry in all the grand jury records of the names and contents of all parishes, manors, townlands, and other divisions, and the proportionate assessments. it then went on to authorise the lord lieutenant to appoint surveyors to be paid out of the consolidated fund. these surveyors were empowered to require the attendance of cess collectors and other inhabitants, and with their help to examine, and ascertain, and mark the "reputed boundaries of all and every or any barony, half barony, townland parish, or other division or denomination of land," howsoever called. the act also inflicted penalties on persons removing or injuring any post, stone, or other mark made by the surveyors; but we believe there has been no occasion to enforce these clauses, the good sense and good feeling of the people being ample securities against such wanton crime. such survey was not to affect the rights of owners; yet from it lay an appeal to the quarter sessions. this, as we see, relates to _civil boundaries_, not _valuations_. in may, , another act was passed directing the ordnance officers to send copies of their maps, as fast as finished, to the lord lieutenant, who was to appoint "_one_ commissioner of valuation for _any_ counties"; and to give notice of such appointment to the grand jury of every such county. each grand jury was then to appoint an appeal committee for each barony, and a committee of revision for the whole county. this commission of valuation was then to appoint from three to nine fit valuators in the county, who, after trial by the commissioner, were to go in parties of three and examine all parts of their district, and value such portion of it, and set down such valuation in a parish field book, according to the following average prices:-- "scale of prices. wheat, at the general average price of s. per cwt., of lbs. oats, at the general average price of s. per cwt., of lbs. barley, at the general average price of s. per cwt., of lbs. potatoes, at the general average price of s. d. per cwt., of lbs. butter, at the general average price of s. per cwt., of lbs. beef, at the general average price of s. per cwt., of lbs. mutton, at the general average price of s. d. per cwt., of lbs. pork, at the general average price of s. d. per cwt., of lbs." that is, having examined each tract--say a hill, a valley, an inch, a reclaimed bit, and by digging and looking at the soil, they were to consider what crop it could best produce, considering its soil, elevation, nearness to markets, and then estimating crops at the foregoing rate, they were to say how much per acre the tract was, in their opinion, worth. from this parish field book the commissioner was to make out a table of the parishes and townlands, etc., in each barony, specifying the average and total value of houses in such sub-divisions, and to forward it to the high constable, who was to post copies thereof. a vestry of twenty-pound freeholders and twenty-shilling cesspayers was to be called in each parish to consider the table. if they did not appeal, the table was to stand confirmed; if they did appeal, the grand jury committee of appeal, with the valuation commissioner as chairman, were to decide upon the appeal; but if the assessor were dissatisfied, the appeal was to go to the committee of revision. the same committee were then to revise the _proportionate_ liabilities of _baronies_, subject to an appeal to the queen's bench. the valuation so settled was to be published in the _dublin gazette_, and thenceforward all _grand jury_ and _parish_ rates and cesses were to be levied in the _proportions_ thereby fixed. but no land theretofore exempt from any rate was thereby made liable. the expenses were to be advanced from the consolidated fund, and repaid by presentment from the county. it made the _proportionate_ values of parishes and townlands, pending the baronial survey and the baronial valuation, to bind after revision and publication in some newspaper circulating in the county; but _within three years_ there was to be a second revision, after which they were to be published in the _dublin gazette_, etc., and be final as to the _proportions_ of all parish or grand jury rates to be paid by all baronies, parishes, and townlands. it also directed the annexation of detached bits to the counties respectively surrounding them, and it likewise provided for the _use_ of the valuation maps and field books in applotting the grand jury cess charged on the holders of lands, but such valuation to be merely a guide and not final. from the varying size and value of holdings this caution was essential. under this last act the valuation has been continued, as every reader of the country papers must have seen by mr. griffith's notices, and is now complete in twenty counties, forward in six, begun in two, and not yet begun in cork, kerry, limerick, or dublin. mr. griffith's instructions are clear and full, and we strongly recommend the study of them, and an adherence to their forms and classifications, to valuators of all private and public properties, so far as they go. he appointed two classes of valuators--ordinary valuators to make the first valuation all over each county, and check valuators to re-value patches in every district, to test the accuracy of the ordinary valuators. the ordinary valuator was to have two copies of the townland (or -inch) survey. taking a sheet with him into the district represented on it, he was to examine the quality of the soil in lots of from fifty to thirty acres, or still smaller bits, to mark the bounds of each lot on the survey map, and to enter in his field book the value thereof, with all the special circumstances specially stated. the examination was to include digging to ascertain the depth of the soil and the nature of the subsoil. all land was to be valued at its agricultural worth, supposing it liberally set, leaving out the value of timber, turf, etc. reductions were to be made for elevation above the sea, steepness, exposure to bad winds, patchiness of soil, bad fences, and bad roads. additions were to be made for neighbourhood of limestone, turf, sea, or other manure, roads, good climate and shelter, nearness to towns. the following classification of soils was recommended:-- "arrangement of soils. all soils may be arranged under four heads, each representing the characteristic ingredients, as-- . argillaceous, or clayey; . silicious, or sandy; . calcareous, or limy; . peaty. for practical purposes it will be desirable to sub-divide each of these classes:-- thus argillaceous soils may be divided into three varieties, viz.--clay, clay loam, and argillaceous alluvial. of silicious soils there are four varieties, viz.--sandy, gravelly, slaty, and rocky. of calcareous soils we have three varieties, viz.--limestone, limestone gravel, and marl. of peat soils two varieties, viz.--moor, and peat or bog. in describing in the field book the different qualities of soils, the following explanatory words may be used as occasion may require:-- _stiff_--where a soil contains a large proportion, say one-half, or even more, of tenacious clay, it is called stiff. in dry weather this kind of soil cracks and opens, and has a tendency to form into large and hard lumps, particularly if ploughed in wet weather. _friable_--where the soil is loose and open, as is generally the case in sandy, gravelly, and moory lands. _strong_--where a soil contains a considerable portion of clay, and has some tendency to form into clods or lumps, it may be called strong. _deep_--where the soil exceeds ten inches in depth the term deep may be applied. _shallow_--where the depth of the soil is less than eight inches. _dry_--where the soil is friable, and the subsoil porous (if there be no springs), the term dry should be used. _wet_--where the soil or subsoil is very tenacious, or where springs are numerous. _sharp_--where there is a moderate proportion of gravel, or small stones. _fine or soft_--where the soil contains no gravel, but is chiefly composed of very fine sand, or soft, light earth without gravel. _cold_--where the soil rests on a tenacious clay subsoil, and has a tendency when in pasture to produce rushes and other aquatic plants. _sandy or gravelly_--where there is a large proportion of sand or gravel through the soil. _slaty_--where the slaty substratum is much intermixed with the soil. _worn_--where the soil has been a long time under cultivation, without rest or manure. _poor_--where the land is naturally of bad quality. _hungry_--where the soil contains a considerable portion of gravel, or coarse sand, resting on a gravelly subsoil; on such land manure does not produce the usual effect. the _colours of soils_ may also be introduced, as brown, yellow, blue, grey, red, black, etc. also, where applicable, the words steep, level, shrubby, rocky, exposed, etc., may be used." lists of market prices were sent with the field books, and the amounts then reduced to a uniform rate, which mr. griffith fixed at _s._ _d._ per pound over the prices of produce mentioned in the act. rules were also given for valuation of houses, but we must refer to mr. griffith's work for them. commercial history of ireland. while the irish were excluded from english law and intercourse, england imposed no restrictions on our trade. the pale spent its time tilling and fighting, and it was more sure of its bellyful of blows than of bread. it had nothing to sell; why tax its trade? the slight commerce of dublin was needful to the comforts of the norman court in dublin castle. why should _it_ be taxed? the market of kilkenny was guarded by the spears of the butlers, and from sligo to cork the chiefs and towns of munster and connaught--the burkes, o'loghlens, o'sullivans, galway, dingle, and dunboy--carried on a trade with spain, and piracy of war against england. how _could they_ be taxed? commercial taxes, too, in those days were hard to be enforced, and more resembled toll to a robber than contribution to the state. every great river and pass in europe, from the rhine and the alps to berwick and the blackwater, was affectionately watched by royal and noble castles at their narrowest points, and the barge anchored and the caravan halted to be robbed, or, as the receivers called it, to be taxed. at last the pale was stretched round ireland by art and force. solitude and peace were in our plains; but the armed colonist settled in it, and the native came down from his hills as a tenant or a squatter, and a kind of prosperity arose. protestant and catholic, native and colonist, had the same interest--namely, to turn this waste into a garden. they had not, nor could they have had, other things to export than sydney or canada have now--cattle, butter, hides, and wool. they had hardly corn enough for themselves; but pasture was plenty, and cows and their hides, sheep and their fleeces, were equally so. the natives had always been obliged to prepare their own clothing, and therefore every creaght and digger knew how to dress wool and skins, and they had found out, or preserved from a more civilised time, dyes which, to this day, are superior to any others. small quantities of woollen goods were exported, but our assertion holds good that in our war-times there was no manufacture for export worth naming. black tom wentworth, the ablest of despots, came here years ago, and found "small beginnings towards a clothing trade." he at once resolved to discourage it. he wrote so to the king on july th, , and he was a man true to his enmities. "but," said he, "i'll give them a linen manufacture instead." now, the irish had raised flax and made and dyed linen from time immemorial. the saffron-coloured linen shirt was as national as the cloak and birred; so that strafford rather introduced the linen manufacture among the new settlers than among the irish. certainly he encouraged it, by sending irishmen to learn in brabant, and by bringing french and flemings to work in ireland. charles the second, doubtless to punish us for our most unwise loyalty to him and his father, assented to a series of acts prohibiting the export of irish wool, cattle, etc., to england or her colonies, and prohibiting the _direct_ importation of several colonial products into ireland. the chief acts are charles, c. ; charles, c. ; and and charles, c. . thus were the value of land in ireland, the revenue, and trade, and manufactures of ireland--protestant and catholic--stricken by england. perhaps we ought to be grateful, though not to england, for these acts. they plundered our pockets, but they guarded our souls from being anglicised. to france and spain the produce was sent, and the woollen manufacture continued to increase. england got alarmed, for ireland was getting rich. the english lords addressed king william, stating that "the growth and increase of the woollen manufacture in ireland had long been, and would be _ever_, looked upon with great jealousy by his english subjects, and praying him, by very strict laws, totally to prohibit and suppress the same." the commons said likewise; and william answered comfortably:--"i shall do all that in me lies to discourage the woollen manufacture in ireland, and to encourage the linen manufacture there, and to promote the trade of england." he was as good as his word, and even whipped and humbugged the unfortunate irish parliament to pass an act, putting twenty per cent. duty on broad and ten per cent. on narrow cloths-- "but it did not satisfy the english parliament, where a perpetual law was made, prohibiting from the th of june, , the exportation from ireland of all goods made or mixed with wool, except to england and wales, and with the licence of the commissioners of the revenue; duties had been before laid on the importation into england equal to a prohibition, therefore this act has operated as a total prohibition of the exportation." there was nothing left but to send the wool raw to england; to smuggle it and cloths to france and spain, or to leave the land unstocked. the first was worst. the export to england declined, smuggling prospered, "wild geese" for the brigade and woollen goods were run in exchange for claret, brandy, and silks; but not much land was left waste. our silks, cottons, malt, beer, and almost every other article was similarly prohibited. striped linens were taxed thirty per cent., many other kinds of linen were also interfered with, and twenty-four embargoes in nineteen years straitened our foreign provision trade. thus england kept her pledge of wrath, and broke her promise of service to ireland. a vigorous system of smuggling induced her to relax in some points, and the cannon of the volunteers blew away the code. by the union we were so drained of money, and absentee rents and taxes, and of spirit in every way, that she no longer needs a prohibitory code to prevent our competing with her in any market, irish or foreign. the union is prohibition enough, and that england says she will maintain. whether it be now possible to create home manufactures, in the old sense of the word--that is, manufactures made in the homes of the workers--is doubted. in favour of such a thing, if it be possible, the arguments are numberless. such work is a source of ingenuity and enjoyment in the cabin of the peasant; it rather fills up time that would be otherwise idled than takes from other work. our peasants' wives and daughters could clothe themselves and their families by the winter night work, even as those of norway do, if the peasants possessed the little estates that norway's peasants do. clothes manufactured by hand-work are more lasting, comfortable, and handsome, and are more natural and national than factory goods. besides, there is the strongest of all reasons in this, that the factory system seems everywhere a poison to virtue and happiness. some invention, which should bring the might of machinery in a wholesome and cheap form to the cabin, seems the only solution of the difficulty. the hazards of the factory system, however, should be encountered, were it sure to feed our starving millions; but this is dubious. a native parliament can alone judge or act usefully on this momentous subject. an absentee tax and a resident government, and the progress of public industry and education, would enable an irish parliament to create vast manufactures here by protecting duties in the first instance, and to maintain them by our general prosperity, or it could rely on its own adjustment of landed property as sufficient to put the people above the need of hazarding purity or content by embarking in great manufactures. a peasant proprietary could have wealth enough to import wrought goods, or taste and firmness enough to prefer home-made manufactures. but these are questions for other years. we wish the reader to take our word for nothing, but to consult the writers on irish trade:--laurence's _interest of ireland_ ( ); browne's _tracts_ ( ); dobbs on "trade" ( ); hutchinson's _commercial restraints_ ( ); sheffield on "irish trade" ( ); wallace on "irish trade" ( ); the various "parliamentary reports," and the very able articles on the same subject in the _citizen_. do not be alarmed at the list, reader; a month's study would carry you through all but the reports, and it would be well spent. but if you still shrink, you can ease your conscience by reading mr. john o'connell's report on "the commercial injustices," just issued by the repeal association. it is an elaborate, learned, and most useful tract. national art. no one doubts that if he sees a place or an action he knows more of it than if it had been described to him by a witness. the dullest man, who "put on his best attire" to welcome cæsar, had a better notion of life in rome than our ablest artist or antiquary. were painting, then, but a coloured chronicle, telling us facts by the eye instead of the ear, it would demand the statesman's care and the people's love. it would preserve for us faces we worshipped, and the forms of men who led and instructed us. it would remind us, and teach our children, not only how these men looked, but, to some extent, what they were, for nature is consistent, and she has indexed her labours. it would carry down a pictorial history of our houses, arts, costume, and manners to other times, and show the dweller in a remote isle the appearance of countries and races of his cotemporaries. as a register of _facts--as a portrayer of men, singly, or assembled--and as a depicter of actual scenery, art is biography, history, and topography taught through the eye. so far as it can express facts, it is superior to writing; and nothing but the scarcity of _faithful_ artists, or the stupidity of the public, prevents us from having our pictorial libraries of men and places. there are some classes of scenes--as where continuous action is to be expressed--in which sculpture quite fails, and painting is but a shadowy narrator. but this, after all, though the most obvious and easy use of painting and sculpture, is far indeed from being their highest end. art is a regenerator as well as a copyist. as the historian, who composes a history out of various materials, differs from a newspaper reporter, who sets down what he sees--as plutarch differs from mr. grant, and the abbé barthelemy from the last traveller in india--so do the historical painter, the landscape composer (such as claude or poussin) differ from the most faithful portrait, landscape, or scene drawer. the painter who is a master of composition makes his pencil cotemporary with all times and ubiquitous. keeping strictly to nature and fact, romulus sits for him and paul preaches. he makes attila charge, and mohammed exhort, and ephesus blaze when he likes. he tries not rashly, but by years of study of men's character, and dress, and deeds, to make them and their acts come as in a vision before him. having thus got a design, he attempts to realise the vision on his canvas. he pays the most minute attention to truth in his drawing, shading, and colouring, and by imitating the force of nature in his composition, all the clouds that ever floated by him, "the lights of other days," and the forms of the dead, or the stranger, hover over him. but art in its higher stage is more than this. it is a creator. great as herodotus and thierry are, homer and beranger are greater. the ideal has resources beyond the actual. it is infinite, and art is indefinitely powerful. the apollo is more than noble, and the hercules mightier than man. the moses of michael angelo is no likeness of the inspired law-giver, nor of any other that ever lived, and raphael's madonnas are not the faces of women. as reynolds says, "the effect of the capital works of michael angelo is that the observer feels his whole frame enlarged." it is creation, it is representing beings and things different from our nature, but true to their own. in this self-consistency is the only nature requisite in works purely imaginative. lear is true to his nature, and so are mephistopheles, and prometheus, and achilles; but they are not true to human nature; they are beings created by the poets' minds, and true to _their_ laws of being. there is no commoner blunder in men, who are themselves mere critics, never creators, than to require consistency to the nature of us and our world in the works of poet or painter. to create a mass of great pictures, statues, and buildings is of the same sort of ennoblement to a people as to create great poems or histories, or make great codes, or win great battles. the next best, though far inferior, blessing and power is to inherit such works and achievements. the lowest stage of all is neither to possess nor to create them. ireland has had some great painters--barry and forde, for example, and many of inferior but great excellence; and now she boasts high names--maclise, hogan, and mulready. but their works were seldom done for ireland, and are rarely known in it. our portrait and landscape painters paint foreign men and scenes; and, at all events, the irish people do not see, possess, nor receive knowledge from their works. irish history has supplied no subjects for our greatest artists; and though, as we repeat, ireland possessed a forde and barry, creative painters of the highest order, the pictures of the latter are mostly abroad; those of the former unseen and unknown. alas! that they are so few. to collect into, and make known, and publish in ireland the best works of our living and dead artists is one of the steps towards procuring for ireland a recognised national art. and this is essential to our civilisation and renown. the other is by giving education to students and rewards to artists, to make many of this generation true representers, some of them great illustrators and composers, and, perchance, to facilitate the creation of some great spirit. something has been done--more remains. there are schools in dublin and cork. but why are those so neglected and imperfect? and why are not similar or better institutions in belfast, derry, galway, waterford, and kilkenny? why is there not a decent collection of casts anywhere but in cork, and why are they in a garret there? and why have we no gallery of irishmen's, or any other men's, pictures in ireland? the art union has done a great deal. it has helped to support in ireland artists who should otherwise have starved or emigrated; it has dispersed one (when, oh when, will it disperse another?) fine print of a fine irish picture through the country, and to some extent interested as well as instructed thousands. yet it could, and we believe will, do much more. it ought to have corresponding committees in the principal towns to preserve and rub up old schools of art and foster new ones, and it might by art and historical libraries, and by other ways, help the cause. we speak as friends, and suggest not as critics, for it has done good service. the repeal association, too, in offering prizes for pictures and sculptures of irish historical subjects, has taken its proper place as the patron of nationality in art; and its rewards for building designs may promote the comfort and taste of the people, and the reputation of the country. if artists will examine the rules by which the pictures, statues, and plates remain their property, they will find the prizes not so small as they might at first appear. nor should they, from interest or just pride, be indifferent to the popularity and fame of success on national subjects, and with a people's prizes to be contended for. if those who are not repealers will treat the association's design kindly and candidly, and if the repealers will act in art upon principles of justice and conciliation, we shall not only advance national art, but gain another field of common exertion. the cork school of art owes its existence to many causes. the intense, genial, and irish character of the people, the southern warmth and variety of clime, with its effects on animal and vegetable beings, are the natural causes. the accident of barry's birth there, and his great fame, excited the ambition of the young artists. an irishman and a corkman had gone out from them, and amazed men by the grandeur and originality of his works of art. he had thrown the whole of the english painters into insignificance, for who would compare the luscious commonplace of the stuart painters, or the melodramatic reality of hogarth, or the imitative beauty of reynolds, or the clumsy strength of west, with the overbearing grandeur of his works? but the _present_ glories of cork, maclise and hogan, the greater, but buried might of forde, and the rich promise which we know is springing there now, are mainly owing to another cause; and that is, that cork possesses a gallery of the finest casts in the world. these casts are not very many-- only; but they are perfect, they are the first from canova's moulds, and embrace the greatest works of greek art. they are ill-placed in a dim and dirty room--more shame to the rich men of cork for leaving them so--but there they are, and there studied forde, and maclise, and the rest, until they learned to draw better than any moderns, except cornelius and his living brethren. in the countries where art is permanent there are great collections--tuscany and rome, for example. but, as we have said before, the highest service done by success in art is not in the possession but in the creation of great works, the spirit, labour, sagacity, and instruction needed by the artists to succeed, and flung out by them on their country like rain from sunny clouds. indeed, there is some danger of a traditionary mediocrity following after a great epoch in art. superstition of style, technical rules in composition, and all the pedantry of art, too often fill up the ranks vacated by veteran genius, and of this there are examples enough in flanders, spain, and even italy. the schools may, and often do, make men scholastic and ungenial, and art remains an instructor and refiner, but creates no more. ireland, fortunately or unfortunately, has everything to do yet. we have had great artists--we have not their works--we own the nativity of great living artists--they live on the tiber and the thames. our capital has no school of art--no facilities for acquiring it. to be sure, there are rooms open in the dublin society, and they have not been useless, that is all. but a student here cannot learn anatomy, save at the same expense as a surgical student. he has no great works of art before him, no pantheon, no valhalla, not even a good museum or gallery. we think it may be laid down as unalterably true that a student should never draw from a flat surface. he learns nothing by drawing from the lines of another man--he only mimics. better for him to draw chairs and tables, bottles and glasses, rubbish, potatoes, cabins, or kitchen utensils, than draw from the lines laid down by other men. of those forms of nature which the student can originally consult--the sea, the sky, the earth--we would counsel him to draw from them in the first learning; for though he ought afterwards to analyse and mature his style by the study of works of art, from the first sketches to the finished picture, yet, by beginning with nature and his own suggestions, he will acquire a genuine and original style, superior to the finest imitation; and it is hard to acquire a master's skill without his manner. were all men cast in a divine mould of strength and straightness and gallant bearing, and all women proportioned, graceful, and fair, the artist would need no gallery, at least to begin his studies with. he would have to persuade or snatch his models in daily life. even then, as art creates greater and simpler combinations than ever exist in fact, he should finally study before the superhuman works of his predecessors. but he has about him here an indifferently-made, ordinary, not very clean, nor picturesquely-clad people; though, doubtless, if they had the feeding, the dress, and the education (for mind beautifies the body) of the greeks, they would not be inferior, for the irish structure is of the noblest order. to give him a multitude of fine natural models, to say nothing of ideal works, it is necessary to make a gallery of statues or casts. the statues will come in good time, and we hope, and are sure, that ireland, a nation, will have a national gallery, combining the greatest works of the celtic and teutonic races. but at present the most that can be done is to form a gallery. our readers will be glad to hear that this great boon is about to be given to irish art. a society for the formation of a gallery of casts in dublin has been founded. it embraces men of every rank, class, creed, politics, and calling, thus forming another of those sanctuaries, now multiplying in ireland, where one is safe from the polemic and the partisan. its purpose is to purchase casts of all the greatest works of greece, egypt, etruria, ancient rome, and europe in the middle ages. this will embrace a sufficient variety of types, both natural and ideal, to prevent imitation, and will avoid the debateable ground of modern art. wherever they can afford it the society will buy moulds, in order to assist provincial galleries, and therefore the provinces are immediately interested in its support. when a few of these casts are got together, and a proper gallery procured, the public will be admitted to see, and artists to study, them without any charge. the annual subscription is but ten shillings, the object being to interest as many as possible in its support. it has been suggested to us by an artist that trinity college ought to establish a gallery and museum containing casts of all the ancient statues, models of their buildings, civil and military, and a collection of their implements of art, trade, and domestic life. a nobler institution, a more vivid and productive commentary on the classics, could not be. but if the board will not do this of themselves, we trust they will see the propriety of assisting this public gallery, and procuring, therefore, special privileges for the students in using it. but no matter what persons in authority may do or neglect, we trust the public--for the sake of their own pleasure, their children's profit, and ireland's honour--will give it their instant and full support. hints for irish historical paintings. national art is conversant with national subjects. we have irish artists, but no irish, no national art. this ought not to continue; it is injurious to the artists, and disgraceful to the country. the following historical subjects were loosely jotted down by a friend. doubtless, a more just selection could be made by students noting down fit subjects for painting and sculpture, as they read. we shall be happy to print any suggestions on the subject--our own are, as we call them, mere hints with loose references to the authors or books which suggested them. for any good painting, the marked figures must be few, the action obvious, the costume, arms, architecture, postures historically exact, and the manners, appearance, and rank of the characters strictly studied and observed. the grouping and drawing require great truth and vigour. a similar set of subjects illustrating social life could be got from the poor report, carleton's, banim's, or griffin's stories, or, better still, from observation. the references are vague, but perhaps sufficient. the landing of the milesians.--keating, moore's melodies. ollamh fodhla presenting his laws to his people. keating's, moore's, and o'halloran's histories of ireland.--walker's irish dress and arms, and vallancey's collectanea. nial and his nine hostages.--moore, keating. a druid's augury.--moore, o'halloran, keating. a chief riding out of his fort.--griffin's invasion, walker, moore. the oak of kildare.--moore. the burial of king dathy in the alps, his thinned troops laying stones on his grave.--m'geoghegan, "histoire de l'irlande" (french edition), invasion, walker, moore. st. patrick brought before the druids at tara.--moore and his authorities. the first landing of the danes.--see invasion, moore, etc. the death of turgesius.--keating, moore. ceallachan tied to the mast.--keating. murkertach returning to aileach.--archæological society's tracts. brian reconnoitring the danes before clontarf. the last of the danes escaping to his ship. o'ruare's return.--keating, moore's melodies. raymond le gros leaving his bride.--moore. roderick in conference with the normans.--moore, m'geoghegan. donald o'brien setting fire to limerick.--m'geoghegan. donald o'brien visiting holycross.--m'geoghegan. o'brien, o'connor, and m'carthy making peace to attack the normans.--m'geoghegan, moore. the same three victorious at the battle of thurles.--moore and o'conor's rerum hibernicarum scriptores. irish chiefs leaving prince john.--moore, etc. m'murrough and gloster.--harris's hibernica, p. . crowning of edward bruce.--leland, grace's annals, etc. edgecombe vainly trying to overawe kildare.--harris's hibernica. kildare "on the necks of the butlers."--leland. shane o'neill at elizabeth's court.--leland. lord sydney entertained by shane o'neill. the battle of the red coats.--o'sullivan's catholic history. hugh o'neill victor in single combat at clontibret.--fynes moryson, o'sullivan, m'geoghegan. the corleius.--dymmok's treatise, archæological society's tracts. maguire and st. leger in single combat.--m'geoghegan. o'sullivan crossing the shannon.--pacata hibernia. o'dogherty receiving the insolent message of the governor of derry.--m'geoghegan. the brehon before the english judges.--davis's letter to lord salisbury. ormond refusing to give up his sword.--carte's life of ormond. good lookers-on.--strafford's letters. owen conolly before the privy council, .--carey's vindiciæ. the battle of julianstown.--temple's rebellion, and tichbourne's drogheda. owen roe organising the creaghts.--carte, and also belling and o'neill in the desiderata curiosa hibernica. the council of kilkenny.--carte. the breach of clonmel.--do. smoking out the irish.--ludlow's memoirs. burning them.--castlehaven's memoirs. nagle before the privy council.--harris's william. james's entry into dublin.--dublin magazine for march, . the bridge of athlone.--green book and authorities. st. ruth's death.--do. the embarkation from limerick.--do. cremona.--cox's magazine. fontenoy.--do. sir s. rice pleading against the violation of the treaty of limerick.--staunton's collection of tracts on ireland. molyneux's book burned. liberty boys reading a drapier's letter.--mason's st. patrick's cathedral. lucas surrounded by dublin citizens in his shop. grattan moving liberty.--memoirs. flood apostrophising corruption.--barrington. dungannon convention.--wilson, barrington. curran cross-examining armstrong.--memoirs. curran pleading before the council in alderman james's case. tone's first society.--see his memoirs. the belfast club.--madden's u. i., second series, vol. i. tone, emmet, and keogh in the rathfarnham garden. tone and carnot.--tone's memoirs. battle of oulart.--hay, teeling, etc. first meeting of the catholic association. o'connell speaking in a munster chapel.--wyse's association. the clare hustings.--proposal of o'connell. the dublin corporation speech. father mathew administering the pledge in a munster county. conciliation.--orange and green. the lifting of the irish flags of a national fleet and army. our national language. men are ever valued most for peculiar and original qualities. a man who can only talk commonplace, and act according to routine, has little weight. to speak, look, and do what your own soul from its depths orders you are credentials of greatness which all men understand and acknowledge. such a man's dictum has more influence than the reasoning of an imitative or commonplace man. he fills his circle with confidence. he is self-possessed, firm, accurate, and daring. such men are the pioneers of civilisation and the rulers of the human heart. why should not nations be judged thus? is not a full indulgence of its natural tendencies essential to a _people's_ greatness? force the manners, dress, language, and constitution of russia, or italy, or norway, or america, and you instantly stunt and distort the whole mind of either people. the language, which grows up with a people, is conformed to their organs, descriptive of their climate, constitution, and manners, mingled inseparably with their history and their soil, fitted beyond any other language to express their prevalent thoughts in the most natural and efficient way. to impose another language on such a people is to send their history adrift among the accidents of translation--'tis to tear their identity from all places--'tis to substitute arbitrary signs for picturesque and suggestive names--'tis to cut off the entail of feeling, and separate the people from their forefathers by a deep gulf--'tis to corrupt their very organs, and abridge their power of expression. the language of a nation's youth is the only easy and full speech for its manhood and for its age. and when the language of its cradle goes, itself craves a tomb. what business has a russian for the rippling language of italy or india? how could a greek distort his organs and his soul to speak dutch upon the sides of the hymettus, or the beach of salamis, or on the waste where once was sparta? and is it befitting the fiery, delicate-organed celt to abandon his beautiful tongue, docile and spirited as an arab, "sweet as music, strong as the wave"--is it befitting in him to abandon this wild, liquid speech for the mongrel of a hundred breeds called english, which, powerful though it be, creaks and bangs about the celt who tries to use it? we lately met a glorious thought in the "triads of mochmed," printed in one of the welsh codes by the record commission: "there are three things without which there is no country--common language, common judicature, and co-tillage land--for without these a country cannot support itself in peace and social union." a people without a language of its own is only half a nation. a nation should guard its language more than its territories--'tis a surer barrier, and more important frontier, than fortress or river. and in good times it has ever been thought so. who had dared to propose the adoption of persian or egyptian in greece--how had pericles thundered at the barbarian? how had cato scourged from the forum him who would have given the attic or gallic speech to men of rome? how proudly and how nobly germany stopped "the incipient creeping" progress of french! and no sooner had she succeeded than her genius, which had tossed in a hot trance, sprung up fresh and triumphant. had pyrrhus quelled italy, or xerxes subdued greece for a time long enough to impose new languages, where had been the literature which gives a pedigree to human genius? even liberty recovered had been sickly and insecure without the language with which it had hunted in the woods, worshipped at the fruit-strewn altar, debated on the council-hill, and shouted in the battle-charge. there is a fine song of the fusians, which describes "language linked to liberty." to lose your native tongue, and learn that of an alien, is the worst badge of conquest--it is the chain on the soul. to have lost entirely the national language is death; the fetter has worn through. so long as the saxon held to his german speech he could hope to resume his land from the norman; now, if he is to be free and locally governed, he must build himself a new home. there is hope for scotland--strong hope for wales--sure hope for hungary. the speech of the alien is not universal in the one; is gallantly held at bay in the other; is nearly expelled from the third. how unnatural--how corrupting 'tis for us, three-fourths of whom are of celtic blood, to speak a medley of teutonic dialects! if we add the celtic scots, who came back here from the thirteenth to the seventeenth centuries, and the celtic welsh, who colonised many parts of wexford and other leinster counties, to the celts who never left ireland, probably five-sixths, or more, of us are celts. what business have we with the norman-sassenagh? nor let any doubt these proportions because of the number of english _names_ in ireland. with a politic cruelty the english of the pale passed an act ( edw. iv., c. ) compelling every irishman within english jurisdiction "to go like to one englishman in apparel, and shaving off his beard above the mouth," "and shall take to him an english sirname of one town, as sutton, chester, trym, skryne, corke, kinsale; or colour, as white, blacke, browne; or art or science, as smith or carpenter; or office, as cook, butler; and that he and his issue shall use this name, under pain of forfeiting his goods yearly." and just as this parliament before the reformation, so did another after the reformation. by the th henry viii., c. , the dress and language of the irish were insolently described as barbarous by the minions of that ruffian king, and were utterly forbidden and abolished under many penalties and incapacities. these laws are still in force; but whether the archæological society, including peel and o'connell, will be prosecuted seems doubtful. there was, also, 'tis to be feared, an adoption of english names, during some periods, from fashion, fear, or meanness. some of our best irish names, too, have been so mangled as to require some scholarship to identify them. for these and many more reasons the members of the celtic race here are immensely greater than at first appears. but this is not all; for even the saxon and norman colonists, notwithstanding these laws, melted down into the irish, and adopted all their ways and language. for centuries upon centuries irish was spoken by men of all bloods in ireland, and english was unknown, save to a few citizens and nobles of the pale. 'tis only within a very late period that the majority of the people learned english. but, it will be asked, how can the language be restored now? we shall answer this partly by saying that, through the labours of the archæological and many lesser societies, it _is_ being revived rapidly. we shall consider this question of the possibility of reviving it more at length some other day. nothing can make us believe that it is natural or honourable for the irish to speak the speech of the alien, the invader, the sassenagh tyrant, and to abandon the language of our kings and heroes. what! give up the tongue of ollamh fodhla and brian boru, the tongue of m'carty, and the o'nials, the tongue of sarsfield's, curran's, mathew's, and o'connell's boyhood, for that of strafford and poynings, sussex, kirk, and cromwell! no! oh, no! the "brighter days shall surely come," and the green flag shall wave on our towers, and the sweet old language be heard once more in college, mart, and senate. but even should the effort to save it as the national language fail, by the attempt we will rescue its old literature, and hand down to our descendants proofs that we had a language as fit for love, and war, and business, and pleasure, as the world ever knew, and that we had not the spirit and nationality to preserve it! had swift known irish he would have sowed its seed by the side of that nationality which he planted, and the close of the last century would have seen the one as flourishing as the other. had ireland used irish in , would it not have impeded england's re-conquest of us? but 'tis not yet too late. for _you_, if the mixed speech called english was laid with sweetmeats on your child's tongue, english is the best speech of manhood. and yet, rather, in that case you are unfortunate. the hills, and lakes, and rivers, the forts and castles, the churches and parishes, the baronies and counties around you, have all irish names--names which describe the nature of the scenery or ground, the name of founder, or chief, or priest, or the leading fact in the history of the place. to you these are names hard to pronounce, and without meaning. and yet it were well for you to know them. that knowledge would be a topography, and a history, and romance, walking by your side, and helping your discourse. meath tells it flatness, clonmel the abundant riches of its valley, fermanagh is the land of the lakes, tyrone the country of owen, kilkenny the church of st. canice, dunmore the great fort, athenry the ford of the kings, dunleary the fort of o'leary; and the phoenix park, instead of taking its name from a fable, recognises as christener the "sweet water" which yet springs near the east gate.[ ] all the names of our airs and songs are irish, and we every day are as puzzled and ingeniously wrong about them as the man who, when asked for the air, "i am asleep, and don't waken me," called it "tommy m'cullagh made boots for me." the bulk of our history and poetry are written in irish, and shall we, who learn italian, and latin, and greek, to read dante, livy, and homer in the original--shall we be content with ignorance or a translation of irish? the want of modern scientific words in irish is undeniable, and doubtless we should adopt the existing names into our language. the germans have done the same thing, and no one calls german mongrel on that account. most of these names are clumsy and extravagant; and are almost all derived from greek or latin, and cut as foreign a figure in french and english as they would in irish. once irish was recognised as a language to be learned as much as french or italian, our dictionaries would fill up and our vocabularies ramify, to suit all the wants of life and conversation. these objections are ingenious refinements, however, rarely thought of till after the other and great objection has been answered. the usual objection to attempting the revival of irish is, that it could not succeed. if an attempt were made to introduce irish, either through the national schools, or the courts of law, into the eastern side of the island, it would certainly fail, and the reaction might extinguish it altogether. but no one contemplates this save as a dream of what may happen a hundred years hence. it is quite another thing to say, as we do, that the irish language should be cherished, taught, and esteemed, and that it can be preserved and gradually extended. what we seek is, that the people of the upper classes should have their children taught the language which explains our names of persons or places, our older history, and our music, and which is spoken in the majority of our counties, rather than italian, german, or french. it would be more useful in life, more serviceable to the taste and genius of young people, and a more flexible accomplishment for an irish man or woman to speak, sign, and write irish than french. at present the middle classes think it a sign of vulgarity to speak irish--the children are everywhere taught english, and english alone in schools--and, what is worse, they are urged by rewards and punishments to speak it at home, for english is the language of their masters. now, we think the example and exertions of the upper classes would be sufficient to set the opposite and better fashion of preferring irish; and, even as a matter of taste, we think them bound to do so. and we ask it of the pride, the patriotism, and the hearts of our farmers and shopkeepers, will they try to drive out of their children's minds the native language of almost every great man we had, from brian boru to o'connell--will they meanly sacrifice the language which names their hills, and towns, and music, to the tongue of the stranger? about half the people west of a line drawn from derry to waterford speak irish habitually, and in some of the mountain tracts east of that line it is still common. simply requiring the teachers of the national schools in these irish-speaking districts to know irish, and supplying them with irish translations of the school books, would guard the language where it now exists, and prevent it from being swept away by the english tongue, as the red americans have been by the english race from new york to new orleans. the example of the upper classes would extend and develop a modern irish literature, and the hearty support they have given to the archæological society makes us hope that they will have sense and spirit to do so. but the establishment of a newspaper partly or wholly irish would be the most rapid and sure way of serving the language. the irish-speaking man would find, in his native tongue, the political news and general information he has now to seek in english; and the english-speaking man, having irish frequently before him in so attractive a form, would be tempted to learn its characters, and, by-and-by, its meaning. these newspapers in many languages are now to be found everywhere but here. in south america many of these papers are spanish and english, or french; in north america, french and english; in northern italy, german and italian; in denmark and holland, german is used in addition to the native tongue; in alsace and switzerland, french and german; in poland, german, french, and sclavonic; in turkey, french and turkish; in hungary, magyar, sclavonic, and german; and the little canton of grison uses three languages in its press. with the exception of hungary, the secondary language is, in all cases, spoken by fewer persons than the irish-speaking people of ireland, and while they everywhere tolerate and use one language as a medium of commerce, they cherish the other as the vehicle of history, the wings of song, the soil of their genius, and a mark and guard of nationality. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] 'bright water' is the true rendering: could davis have been thinking of _binn uisge_, and supposing that _binn_ meant sweet in taste as well as in sound?--[ed.] institutions of dublin. judged by the _directory_, dublin is nobly supplied with institutions for the promotion of literature, science, and art; and, judged by its men, there is mind enough here to make these institutions prosper, and instruct and raise the country. yet their performances are far short of these promises, and the causes for ill-success are easily found. we believe these causes could be almost as easily removed. in the first place, we have too many of these institutions. stingy grants from government and the general poverty of the people render economy a matter of the first consequence; yet we find these societies maintaining a number of separate establishments, at a great expense of rent and salaries. the consequence, of course, is that none of them flourish as they ought--museums, meetings, lectures, libraries, and exhibitions are all frittered away, and nothing is done so well as it might be. moreover, from the want of any arrangement and order, the same men are dragged from one society to another--few men do much, because all are forced to attempt so many things. but 'tis better to examine this in detail, and in doing so we may as well give some leading facts as to the chief of these bodies. take, for example, as a beginning, the institutions for the promotion of fine arts. and first there is the hibernian academy. it was founded in , received a present of its house in abbey street, and some books and casts, from francis johnston, a dublin architect, and has the miserable income of £ a year from the treasury. it has a drawing-school, with a few casts, no pictures, bad accommodation, and professors whose pay is nearly nominal. it undoubtedly has some men of great ability and attainments, and some who have neither; but what can be done without funds, statues, or pictures? to aggravate its difficulties, the dublin society has another art school, still worse off as to casts, and equally deficient in pictures. as a place of instruction in the designing of patterns for manufactures and the like, the dublin society school has worked well; and many of the best-paid controllers of design in the english manufactories were educated there; but as a school of fine arts it does little; and no wonder. another branch of the hibernian academy's operations is its annual exhibition of pictures. these exhibitions attract crowds who would never otherwise see a painting, promote thought on art, and procure patronage for artists. in this, too, the hibernian academy has recently found a rival in the society of irish artists, established in , which has an annual exhibition in college street, and pays the expenses of the exhibition out of the admission fees, as does the hibernian academy. we are not attaching blame to the society of irish artists in noticing the fact of its rivalry. there are three other bodies devoted to the encouragement of art. one of these is the art union, founded in , and maintained entirely by subscriptions to its lottery. it distributes fine engravings from irish pictures among all its members, and pictures and statues, bought in the exhibitions of the hibernian academy, and of the society of irish artists, among its prize-holders; and it gives premiums for the works of native or resident artists. its operation is as a patron of art; and, in order to get funds for this purpose, and also to secure superior works and a higher competition, it extends its purchases to the best foreign works exhibited here. it has no collection, and has merely an office in college street--in fact, its best permanent possession is its unwearied secretary. the society of ancient art was established last year for the formation of a public gallery of casts from classical and mediæval statues, and ultimately for purposes of direct teaching by lectures, etc. it obtained some funds by subscription; but under the expectation, 'tis said, of a public grant, has done nothing. lastly, there is the "institute of irish architects," founded in "for the general advancement of civil architecture, for promoting and facilitating the acquirement of a knowledge of the various arts and sciences connected therewith, for the formation of a library and museum," etc. to us it is very plain that here are too many institutions, and that the efficiency of all suffers materially from their want of connection and arrangement. some, at least, might be amalgamated with great advantage, or rather all, except the art union. that is only a club of purchasers, and any attempt materially to change its nature would peril its funds. some such plan as the following would accomplish all that is vainly attempted now. let the government be pressed to give £ , a year, if the public supply £ , a year. let this income go to a new hibernian academy--the present hibernian academy, artists' society, society of ancient art, the art schools of the dublin society, and the institute of irish architects being merged in it. this merger could be easily secured through the inducements secured by the charter, and by accommodation, salaries, and utility of the new body. the present property of these bodies, with some moderate grant, would suffice for the purchase of a space of ground ample for the schools, museums, library, lecture-room, and yards of such an institution. at the head of it should be a small body governing and accounting for its finances, but _no person_ should be a governing member of more than one of its sections. these sections should be for statuary, painting, architecture, and design drawing. each of these sections should have its own gallery and its own practice rooms; but one library and one public lecture room would suffice for the entire. the architectural section would also need some open space for its experiments and its larger specimens. a present of copies of the british museum casts, along with the fund of the ancient art society, would originate a cast gallery, and a few good pictures could be bought as a commencement of a national gallery of painting, leaving the economy of the managers and the liberality of the public gradually to fill up. collections of native works in canvas and marble, and architectural models, could be soon and cheaply procured. the art library of the dublin society added to that of the hibernian academy would need few additions to make it sufficient for the new body. such an institute ought not to employ any but the best teachers and lecturers. it should encourage proficiency by rewards that would instruct the proficient; it should apply itself to cataloguing, preserving, and making known all the works of art in the country; give prizes for artistical works; publish its lectures and transactions; issue engravings of the most instructive works of art; and hold evening meetings, to which ladies would be admitted. it should allow at least £ a year for the support of free pupils. in connection with its drawing and modelling schools should be a professorship of anatomy, or, what were better, some arrangement might be made with the college of surgeons, or some such body, for courses of instruction for its pupils. the training for its pupils in sculpture, painting, and design should include the study of ancient and modern costumes, zoology, and of vegetable and geological forms. for this purpose books should not be so much relied on as lectures in gardens, museums, and during student excursions. of course the architectural pupils should be required to answer at a preliminary examination in mathematics, and should receive special instruction in the building materials, action of climate, etc., in ireland. were the buildings standing, and the society chartered judiciously, the sum we have mentioned would be sufficient. four professors at from £ to £ a year each, four assistants at £ a year each, a librarian at the same rate, with payments for extra instruction in anatomy, etc., etc., and for porters, premiums, and so forth, would not exceed £ , a year. so that if £ were expended on free pupils, there would remain £ a year for the purchase of works for the galleries. at present there is much waste of money, great annoyance and loss of time to the supporters of these institutions, and marvellously little benefit to art. the plan we have proposed would be economical both of time and money; but, what is of more worth, it would give us, what we have not now, a national gallery of statuary and painting--good exhibition rooms for works of art--business-like lecturers and lectures--great public excitement about art--and, finally, a great national academy. if anyone has a better plan, let him say it; we have told ours. at all events, some great change is needed, and there can be no fitter time than this for it. in any community it is desirable to have literary institutions, as well classified as legal offices, and as free from counteraction; but it is especially desirable here now. our literary class is small, and its duties measureless. the diseased suction of london--the absence of gentry, offices, and legislature--the heart-sickness that is on every thoughtful man without a country--the want of a large, educated, and therefore book-buying class--and (it must be confessed) the depression and distrust produced by rash experiments and paltry failure, have left us with few men for a great work. probably the great remedy is the restoration of our parliament--bringing back, as it would, the aristocracy and the public offices, giving society and support to writers and artists, and giving them a country's praise to move and a country's glory to reward them. but one of the very means of attaining nationality is securing some portion of that literary force which would gush abundantly from it; and, therefore, consider it how you will, it is important to increase and economise the exertions of the literary class in ireland. yet the reverse is done. institutions are multiplied instead of those being made efficient which exist; and men talk as proudly of the new "teach-'em-everything-in-no-time-society" as if its natty laws were a library, its desk a laboratory and a museum, and its members fresh labourers, when all they have done is to waste the time of persons who had business, and to delude those who had none, into the belief that they were doing good. ephemeral things! which die not without mischief--they have wasted hours and days of strong men in spinning sand, and leave depression growing from their tombs. it is a really useful deed to rescue from dissipation, or from idle reading, or from mammon-hunting, one strong, passionate man or boy, and to set him to work investigating, arranging, teaching. it is an honest task to shame the 'broidered youth from meditation on waistcoats and the display of polka steps into manly pursuits. it is an angel's mission (oftenest the work of love) to startle a sleeping and unconscious genius into the spring and victory of a roused lion. but it is worse than useless to establish new associations and orders without well considering first whether the same machinery do not already exist and rust for want of the very energy and skill which you need too. there is a bridge in a field near blarney castle where water never ran. it was built "at the expense of the county." these men build their mills close as houses in a capital, taking no thought for the stream to turn them. we have already censured this in some detail with reference to societies for the promotion of the fine arts, and have urged the formation, out of all these fiddling, clashing bodies, of some one great institution for the promotion of painting, sculpture, and architecture, with a museum, a library, a gallery, and lecturers, governed by professional minds, great enough to be known and regarded by the people, and popular and strong enough to secure government support. similar defects exist everywhere. take the dublin society for example. nothing can be more heterogeneous than its objects. we are far from denying its utility. that utility is immense, the institution is native, of old standing (it was founded in ), national, and, when it wanted support, our pen was not idle in its behalf. but we believe its utility greatly diminished by its attempting too many things, and especially by including objects more fitly belonging to other institutions; and on the opposite side it is maimed, by the interference of other bodies, in its natural functions. the dublin society was founded for the promotion of husbandry and other useful arts. its labours to serve agriculture have been repeated and extensive, though not always judicious. it has also endeavoured to promote manufactures. it has gardens and museums fitter for scientific than practical instruction, admirable lecturers, a library most generously opened, a drawing-school of the largest purposes and of equivocal success, and various minor branches. the irish academy has some of this fault. it endeavours to unite antiquarianism and abstract science. its meetings are alternately entertained with mathematics and history, and its transactions are equally comprehensive. we yield to none in anxiety for the promotion of antiquarian studies; we think the public and the government disgraced by the slight support given to the academy. we are not a little proud of the honour and strength given to our country by the science of maccullagh, hamilton, and lloyd; but we protest against the attempt to mix the armoury of the ancient irish, or the celtic dialects, or the essay on round towers, with trigonometry and the calculus, whether in a lecture-room or a book. let us just set down, as we find them, some of the literary and scientific institutions. there are the royal dublin society, the royal irish academy (we wish these royalties were dropped--no one minds them), the irish archæological society, the royal zoological society, the geological society, the dublin natural history society, the dublin philosophical society, the royal agricultural society, etc., etc. now, we take it that these bodies might be usefully reduced to three, and if three moderate government grants were made under conditions rewarding such a classification, we doubt not it would instantly be made. in the first place, we would divorce from the irish academy the scientific department, requiring trinity college to form some voluntary organisation for the purpose. to this non-collegiate philosophers should be admitted, and, thus disencumbered, we would devote the academy to antiquities and literature--incorporate with it the archæological society--transfer to it all the antiques (of which it had not duplicates) in trinity college, the dublin society, etc., and enlarge its museums and meeting-room. its section of "polite literature" has long been a name--it should be made real. there would be nothing inconvenient or strange in finding in its lecture-rooms or transactions the antiquities and literature of ireland, diversified by general historical, critical, and æsthetical researches. the dublin society would reasonably divide into two sections. one, for the promotion of husbandry, might be aggrandised by tempting the agricultural society to join it, and should have a permanent museum, an extensive farm, premiums, shows, publications, and special lecturers. the second section, for the encouragement of manufactures, should have its museum, workshops, and experiment ground (the last, perhaps, as the agricultural farm), and its special lecturers. the library might well be joint, and managed by a joint committee, having separate funds. the general lecturers on chemistry and other such subjects might be paid in common. the drawing school (save that for pattern and machine drawing) might be transferred to the art institution; and the botanic garden and museum of minerals to a third body we propose. this third body we would form from a union of the zoological, the geological, the natural history, and all other such societies, and endow it with the botanic and zoological gardens--give it rooms for a general and for a specially irish museum, and for lecture-rooms in town, and supply it with a small fund to pay lecturers, who should go through the provinces. we are firmly convinced that this re-arrangement of the institutions of dublin is quite practicable, would diminish unproductive expenses, economise the time, and condense the purposes of our literary, scientific, and artistical men, and increase enormously the use of the institutions to the public. of course the whole plan will be laughed at as fanciful and improbable; we think it easy, and we think it will be done. ireland's people, lords, gentry, commonalty. when we are considering a country's resources and its fitness for a peculiar destiny, its people are not to be overlooked. how much they think, how much they work, what are their passions, as well as their habits, what are their hopes and what their history, suggest inquiries as well worth envious investigation as even the inside of a refugee's letter. and there is much in ireland of that character--much that makes her superior to slavery, and much that renders her inferior to freedom. her inhabitants are composed of irish nobles, irish gentry, and the irish people. each has an interest in the independence of their country, each a share in her disgrace. upon each, too, there devolves a separate duty in this crisis of her fate. they all have responsibilities; but the infamy of failing in them is not alike in all. the nobles are the highest class. they have most to guard. in every other country they are the champions of patriotism. they feel there is no honour for them separate from their fatherland. its freedom, its dignity, its integrity, are as their own. they strive for it, legislate for it, guard it, fight for it. their names, their titles, their very pride are of it. in ireland they are its disgrace. they were first to sell and would be last to redeem it. treachery to it is daubed on many an escutcheon in its heraldry. it is the only nation where slaves have been ennobled for contributing to its degradation. it is a foul thing this--dignity emanating from the throne to gild the filthy mass of national treason that forms the man's part of many an irish lord. we do not include in this the whole irish peerage. god forbid. there are several of them not thus ignoble. many of them worked, struggled, sacrificed for ireland. many of them were true to her in the darkest times. they were her chiefs, her ornaments, her sentinels, her safeguards. alas! that they, too, should have shrunk from their position, and left their duties to humbler, but bolder and better men. look at their station in the state. is it not one of unequivocal shame? they enjoy the half-mendicant privilege of voting for a representative of their order, in the house of lords, some twice or thrice in their lives. one irish peer represents about a dozen others of his class, and thus, in his multiplex capacity, he is admitted into fellowship with the english nobility. the borrowed plumes, the delegated authority of so many of his equals, raise him to a half-admitted equality with an english nobleman. and, although thus deprived of their inheritance of dignity, they are not allowed even the privilege of a commoner. an irish lord cannot sit in the house of commons for an irish county or city, nor can he vote for an irish member. but an irish lord can represent an english constituency. the distinction is a strange one--unintelligible to us in any sense but one of national humiliation. we understand it thus--an irish lord is too mean in his own person, and by virtue of his irish title, to rank with the british peerage. he can only qualify for that honour by uniting in his the suffrages and titles of ten or twelve others. but--flattering distinction!--he is above the rank of an irish commoner, nor is he permitted to sully his name with the privileges of that order. and--unspeakable dignity!--he may take his stand with a british mob. there is no position to match this in shame. there is no guilt so despicable as dozing in it without a blush or an effort, or even a dream for independence. when all else are alive to indignity, and working in the way of honour and liberty, they alone, whom it would best become to be earliest and most earnest in the strife, sink back replete with dishonour. of those, or their descendants, who, at the time of the union, sold their country and the high places they filled in her councils and in her glory, for the promise of a foreign title, which has not been redeemed, the shame and the mortification have been perhaps too great to admit of any hope in regard to them. their trust was sacred--their honour unsuspected. the stake they guarded above life they betrayed then for a false bauble; and it is no wonder if they think their infamy irredeemable and eternal. we know not but it is. there are many, however, not in that category. they struggled at fearful odds, and every risk, against the fate of their country. they strove when hope had left them. wherefore do they stand apart now, when she is again erect, and righteous, and daring? have they despaired for her greatness, because of the infidelity of those to whom she had too blindly trusted? the time is gone when she could be betrayed. this one result is already guaranteed by recent teaching. we may not be yet thoroughly instructed in the wisdom and the virtue necessary for the independent maintenance of self-government; but we have mastered thus much of national knowledge that we cannot be betrayed. there is no assurance every nation gave which we have not given, or may not give, that our present struggle shall end in triumph or in national death. the writers of _the nation_ have never concealed the defects or flattered the good qualities of their countrymen. they have told them in good faith that they wanted many an attribute of a free people, and that the true way to command happiness and liberty was by learning the arts and practising the culture that fitted men for their enjoyment. nor was it until we saw them thus learning and thus practising that our faith became perfect, and that we felt entitled to say to all men, here is a strife in which it will be stainless glory to be even defeated. it is one in which the irish nobility have the first interest and the first stake in their individual capacities. as they would be the most honoured and benefited by national success, they are the guiltiest in opposing or being indifferent to national patriotism. of the irish gentry there is not much to be said. they are divisible into two classes--the one consists of the old norman race commingled with the catholic gentlemen who either have been able to maintain their patrimonies, or who have risen into affluence by their own industry; the other, the descendants of cromwell's or william's successful soldiery. this last is the most anti-irish of all. they feel no personal debasement in the dishonour of the country. old prejudices, a barbarous law, a sense of insecurity in the possessions they know were obtained by plunder, combine to sink them into the mischievous and unholy belief that it is their interest as well as their duty to degrade, and wrong, and beggar the irish people. there are among them men fired by enthusiasm, men fed by fanaticism, men influenced by sordidness; but, as a whole, they are earnest thinkers and stern actors. there is a virtue in their unscrupulousness. they speak, and act, and dare as men. there is a principle in their unprincipledness. their belief is a harsh and turbulent one, but they profess it in a manly fashion. we like them better than the other section of the same class. these last are but sneaking echoes of the other's views. they are coward patriots and criminal dandies. but they ought to be different from what they are. we wish them so. we want their aid now--for the country, for themselves, for all. would that they understood the truth, that they thought justly, and acted uprightly. they are wanted, one and all. why conceal it--they are obstacles in our way, shadows on our path. these are called the representatives of the property of the country. they are against the national cause, and therefore it is said that all the wealth of ireland is opposed to the repeal of the union. it is an ignorant and a false boast. the people of the country are its wealth. they till its soil, raise its produce, ply its trade. they serve, sustain, support, save it. they supply its armies--they are its farmers, its merchants, its tradesmen, its artists, all that enrich and adorn it. and, after all, each of them has a patrimony to spend, the honourable earning of his sweat, or his intellect, or his industry, or his genius. taking them on an average, they must, to live, spend at least £ each by the year. multiply it by seven millions, and see what it comes to. thirty-five millions annually--compare with that the rental of ireland; compare with it the wealth of the aristocracy spent in ireland, and are they not as nothing? but a more important comparison may be made of the strength, the fortitude, the patience, the bravery of those, the enrichers of the country, with the meanness in mind and courage of those who are opposed to them. it is the last we shall suggest. it is sufficient for our purpose. to those who do not think it of the highest value we have nothing to say. the state of the peasantry. in a climate soft as a mother's smile, on a soil fruitful as god's love, the irish peasant mourns. he is not unconsoled. faith in the joys of another world, heightened by his woe in this, give him hours when he serenely looks down on the torments that encircle him--the moon on a troubled sky. domestic love, almost morbid from external suffering, prevents him from becoming a fanatic or a misanthrope, and reconciles him to life. sometimes he forgets all, and springs into a desperate glee or a scathing anger; and latterly another feeling--the hope of better days--and another exertion--the effort for redress--have shared his soul with religion, love, mirth, and vengeance. his consolations are those of a spirit--his misery includes all physical sufferings, and many that strike the soul, not the senses. consider his griefs! they begin in the cradle--they end in the grave. suckled by a breast that is supplied from unwholesome or insufficient food, and that is fevered with anxiety--reeking with the smoke of an almost chimneyless cabin--assailed by wind and rain when the weather rages--breathing, when it is calm, the exhalations of a rotten roof, of clay walls, and of manure, which gives his only chance of food--he is apt to perish in his infancy. or he survives all this (happy if he have escaped from gnawing scrofula or familiar fever), and in the same cabin, with rags instead of his mother's breast, and lumpers instead of his mother's milk, he spends his childhood. advancing youth brings him labour, and manhood increases it; but youth and manhood leave his roof rotten, his chimney one hole, his window another, his clothes rags (at best muffled by a holiday _cotamore_)--his furniture, a pot, a table, a few hay chairs and rickety stools--his food, lumpers and water--his bedding, straw and a coverlet--his enemies, the landlord, the tax-gatherer, and the law--his consolation, the priest and his wife--his hope on earth, agitation--his hope hereafter, the lord god! for such an existence his toil is hard--and so much the better--it calms and occupies his mind; but bitter is his feeling that the toil which gains for him this nauseous and scanty livelihood heaps dainties and gay wines on the table of his distant landlord, clothes his children or his harem in satin, lodges them in marble halls, and brings all the arts of luxury to solicit their senses--bitter to him to feel that this green land, which he loves and his landlord scorns, is ravished by him of her fruits to pamper that landlord; twice bitter for him to see his wife, with weariness in her breast of love, to see half his little brood torn by the claws of want to undeserved graves, and to know that to those who survive him he can only leave the inheritance to which he was heir; and thrice bitter to him that even his hovel has not the security of the wild beast's den--that squalidness, and hunger, and disease are insufficient guardians of his home--and that the puff of the landlord's or the agent's breath may blow him off the land where he has lived, and send him and his to a dyke, or to prolong wretchedness in some desperate kennel in the next town, till the strong wings of death--unopposed lord of such suburb--bear them away. aristocracy of ireland, will ye do nothing?--will ye do nothing for fear? the body who best know ireland--the body that keep ireland within the law--the repeal committee--declare that unless some great change take place an agrarian war may ensue! do ye know what that is, and how it would come? the rapid multiplication of outrages, increased violence by magistrates, collisions between the people and the police, coercive laws and military force, the violation of houses, the suspension of industry--the conflux of discontent, pillage, massacre, war--the gentry shattered, the peasantry conquered and decimated, or victorious and ruined (for who could rule them?)--there is an agrarian insurrection! may heaven guard us from it!--may the fear be vain! we set aside the fear! forget it! think of the long, long patience of the people--their toils supporting you--their virtues shaming you--their huts, their hunger, their disease. to whomsoever god had given a heart less cold than stone, these truths must cry day and night. oh! how they cross us like _banshees when we would range free on the mountain--how, as we walk in the evening light amid flowers, they startle us from rest of mind! ye nobles! whose houses are as gorgeous as the mote's (who dwelleth in the sunbeam)--ye strong and haughty squires--ye dames exuberant with tingling blood--ye maidens, whom not splendour has yet spoiled, will ye not think of the poor?--will ye not shudder in your couches to think how rain, wind, and smoke dwell with the blanketless peasant?--will ye not turn from the sumptuous board to look at those hard-won meals of black and slimy roots on which man, woman, and child feed year after year?--will ye never try to banish wringing hunger and ghastly disease from the home of such piety and love?--will ye not give back its dance to the village--its mountain play to boyhood--its serene hopes to manhood? will ye do nothing for pity--nothing for love? will ye leave a foreign parliament to mitigate--will ye leave a native parliament, gained in your despite, to redress these miseries--will ye for ever abdicate the duty and the joy of making the poor comfortable, and the peasant attached and happy? do--if so you prefer; but know that if you do, you are a doomed race. once more, aristocracy of ireland, we warn and entreat you to consider the state of the peasantry, and to save them with your own hands. habits and character of the peasantry.[ ] there are (thank god!) four hundred thousand irish children in the national schools. a few years, and _they will be the people of ireland--the farmers of its lands, the conductors of its traffic, the adepts in its arts. how utterly unlike _that ireland will be to the ireland of the penal laws, of the volunteers, of the union, or of the emancipation? well may carleton say that we are in a transition state. the knowledge, the customs, the superstitions, the hopes of the people are entirely changing. there is neither use nor reason in lamenting what we must infallibly lose. our course is an open and a great one, and will try us severely; but, be it well or ill, we cannot resemble our fathers. no conceivable effort will get the people, twenty years hence, to regard the fairies but as a beautiful fiction to be cherished, not believed in, and not a few real and human characters are perishing as fast as the fairies. let us be content to have the past chronicled wherever it cannot be preserved. much may be saved--the gaelic language and the music of the past may be handed uncorrupted to the future; but whatever may be the substitutes, the fairies and the banshees, the poor scholar and the ribbonman, the orange lodge, the illicit still, and the faction fight are vanishing into history, and unless this generation paints them no other will know what they were. it is chiefly in this way we value the work before us. in it carleton is the historian of the peasantry rather than a dramatist. the fiddler and piper, the seanachie and seer, the match-maker and dancing-master, and a hundred characters beside are here brought before you, moving, acting, playing, plotting, and gossiping! you are never wearied by an inventory of wardrobes, as in short english descriptive fictions; yet you see how every one is dressed; you hear the honey brogue of the maiden, and the downy voice of the child, the managed accents of flattery or traffic, the shrill tones of woman's fretting, and the troubled gush of man's anger. the moory upland and the corn slopes, the glen where the rocks jut through mantling heather, and bright brooks gurgle amid the scented banks of wild herbs, the shivering cabin and the rudely-lighted farm-house are as plain in carleton's pages as if he used canvas and colours with a skill varying from wilson and poussin to teniers and wilkie. but even in these sketches his power of external description is not his greatest merit. born and bred among the people--full of their animal vehemence--skilled in their sports--as credulous and headlong in boyhood, and as fitful and varied in manhood, as the wildest--he had felt with them, and must ever sympathise with them. endowed with the highest dramatic genius, he has represented their love and generosity, their wrath and negligence, their crimes and virtues, as a hearty peasant--not a note-taking critic. in others of his works he has created ideal characters that give him a higher rank as a poet (some of them not surpassed by even shakespeare for originality, grandeur, and distinctness); but here he is a genuine seanachie, and brings you to dance and wake, to wedding and christening--makes you romp with the girls, and race with the boys--tremble at the ghosts, and frolic with the fairies of the whole parish. come what change there may over ireland, in these _tales and sketches_ the peasantry of the past hundred years can be for ever lived with. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] _tales and sketches illustrating the irish peasantry._ by william carleton. james duffy, dublin, . vol., vo., pp. . irish scenery. we no more see why irish people should not visit the continent than why germans or frenchmen ought not to visit ireland; but there is a difference between them. a german rarely comes here who has not trampled the heath of tyrol, studied the museums of dresden and the frescoes of munich, and shouted defiance on the bank of the rhine; and what frenchman who has not seen the vineyards of provence and the bocages of brittany, and the snows of jura and the pyrenees, ever drove on an irish jingle? but our nobles and country gentlemen, our merchants, lawyers, and doctors--and what's worse, their wives and daughters--penetrate britain and the continent without ever trying whether they could not defy in ireland the _ennui_ before which they run over seas and mountains. the cause of this, as of most of our grievances, was misgovernment, producing poverty, discomfort, ignorance, and misrepresentation. the people were ignorant and in rags, their houses miserable, the roads and hotels shocking; we had no banks, few coaches, and, to crown all, the english declared the people to be rude and turbulent, which they were not, as well as drunken and poor, which they assuredly were. an irish landlord who had ill-treated his own tenants felt a conscientious dread of all frieze-coats; others adopted his prejudices, and a people who never were rude or unjust to strangers were considered unsafe to travel amongst. most of these causes are removed. the people are sober, and are rapidly advancing to knowledge, their political exertions and dignity have broken away much of the prejudices against them, and a man passing through any part of ireland expects to find woeful poverty and strong discontent, but he does not fear the abduction of his wife, or attempts to assassinate him on every lonely road. the coaches, cars, and roads, too, have become excellent, and the hotels are sufficient for any reasonable traveller. one very marked discouragement to travelling was the want of information; the maps were little daubs, and the guide-books were few and inaccurate. as to maps we are now splendidly off. the railway commissioners' map of ireland, aided by the ordnance index map of any county where a visitor makes a long stay, are ample. we have got a good general guide-book in fraser, but it could not hold a twentieth of the information necessary to a leisurely tourist; nor, till the ordnance memoir is out, shall we have thorough hand-books to our counties. meantime, let us not burn the little guides to antrim, wicklow, and killarney, though they are desperately dull and inexact--let us not altogether prohibit mrs. hall's gossip, though she knows less about our celtic people than the malays; and let us be even thankful for mr. o'flanagan's volume of the munster blackwater (though it is printed in london) for his valuable stories, for his minute, picturesque, and full topography, for his antiquarian and historic details, though he blunders into making alaster m'donnell a scotchman, and for his hearty love of the scenery and people he has undertaken to guide us through. and now, reader, in this fine soft summer, when the heather is blooming, and the sky laughing and crying like a hysterical bride, full of love, where will ye go--through your own land or a stranger's? if you stay at home you can choose your own scenery, and have something to see in the summer, and talk of in the winter, that will make your friends from the alps and apennines respectful to you. did you propose to study economies among the metayers of tuscany or the artisans of belgium, postpone the trip till the summer of ' or ' , when you may have the passport of an irish office to get you a welcome, and seek for the state of the linen weavers in the soft hamlets of ulster--compare the cattle herds of meath with the safe little holdings of down and the well-found farms of tipperary, or investigate the statistics of our fisheries along the rivers and lakes and shores of our island. had a strong desire come upon you to toil over the glacier, whose centre froze when adam courted eve, or walk amid the brigand passes of italy or spain--do not fancy that absolute size makes mountain grandeur, or romance--to a mind full of passion and love of strength (and with such only do the mountain spirits walk) the passes of glenmalure and barnesmore are deep as chamouni, and carn tual and slieve donard are as near the lightning as mount blanc. to the picture-hunter we can offer little, though vandyke's finest portrait is in kilkenny, and there is no county without some collection; but for the lover of living or sculptured forms--for the artist, the antiquarian, and the natural philosopher, we have more than five summers could exhaust. every one can see the strength of outline, the vigour of colour, and the effective grouping in every fair, and wake, and chapel, and hurling-ground, from donegal to waterford, though it may take the pen of griffin or the pencil of burton to represent them. an irishman, if he took the pains, would surely find something not inferior in interest to cologne or the alhambra in study of the monumental effigies which mat the floors of jerpoint and adare, or the cross in a hundred consecrated grounds from kells to clonmacnoise--of the round towers which spring in every barony--of the architectural perfection of holycross and clare-galway, and the strange fellowship of every order in athassel, or of the military keeps and earthen pyramids and cairns, which tell of the wars of recent and the piety of distant centuries. the entomology, botany, and geology of ireland are not half explored; the structure and distinctions of its races are but just attracting the eyes of philosophers from mr. wilde's tract, and the country is actually full of airs never noted, history never written, superstitions and romances never rescued from tradition; and why should irishmen go blundering in foreign researches when so much remains to be done here, and when to do it would be more easy, more honourable, and more useful? in many kinds of scenery we can challenge comparison. europe has no lake so dreamily beautiful as killarney; no bays where the boldness of norway unites with the colouring of naples, as in bantry; and you might coast the world without finding cliffs so vast and so terrible as achill and slieve league. glorious, too, as the rhine is, we doubt if its warmest admirers would exclude from rivalry the nore and the blackwater, if they had seen the tall cliffs, and the twisted slopes, and the ruined aisles, and glancing mountains, and feudal castles through which you boat up from youghal to mallow, or glide down from thomastown to waterford harbour. hear what inglis says of this avondhu:-- "we have had descents of the danube, and descents of the rhine, and the rhone, and of many other rivers; but we have not in print, as far as i know, any descent of the blackwater; and yet, with all these descents of foreign rivers in my recollection, _i think the descent of the blackwater not surpassed by any of them._ a detail of all that is seen in gliding down the blackwater from cappoquin to youghal would fill a long chapter. there is every combination that can be produced by the elements that enter into the picturesque and the beautiful--deep shades, bold rocks, verdant slopes, with the triumphs of art superadded, and made visible in magnificent houses and beautiful villas with their decorated lawns and pleasure grounds." and now, reader, if these kaleidoscope glimpses we have given you have made you doubt between a summer in ireland and one abroad, give your country "the benefit of the doubt," as the lawyers say, and boat on our lake or dive into our glens and ruins, wonder at the basalt coast of antrim, and soften your heart between the banks of the blackwater. irish music and poetry. no enemy speaks slightingly of irish music, and no friend need fear to boast of it. it is without a rival. its antique war-tunes, such as those of o'byrne, o'donnell, alestrom, and brian boru, stream and crash upon the ear like the warriors of a hundred glens meeting; and you are borne with them to battle, and they and you charge and struggle amid cries and battle-axes and stinging arrows. did ever a wail make man's marrow quiver, and fill his nostrils with the breath of the grave, like the ululu of the north or the wirrasthrue of munster? stately are their slow, and recklessly splendid their quick marches, their "boyne water," and "sios agus sios liom," their "michael hoy," and "gallant tipperary." the irish jigs and planxties are not only the best dancing tunes, but the finest quick marches in the world. some of them would cure a paralytic and make the marble-legged prince in the _arabian nights_ charge like a fag-an-bealach boy. the hunter joins in every leap and yelp of the "fox chase"; the historian hears the moan of the penal days in "drimindhu," and sees the embarkation of the wild geese in "limerick's lamentation"; and ask the lover if his breath do not come and go with "savourneen deelish" and "lough sheelin." varied and noble as our music is, the english-speaking people in ireland have been gradually losing their knowledge of it, and a number of foreign tunes--paltry scented things from italy, lively trifles from scotland, and german opera cries--are heard in our concerts, and what is worse, from our temperance bands. yet we never doubted that "the sight entrancing," or "the memory of the dead," would satisfy even the most spoiled of our fashionables better than anything balfe or rossini ever wrote; and, as it is, "tow-row-row" is better than _poteen_ to the teetotalers, wearied with overtures and insulted by "british grenadiers" and "rule brittannia." a reprint of _moore's melodies_ on lower keys, and at _much_ lower prices, would probably restore the sentimental music of ireland to its natural supremacy. there are in bunting but two good sets of words--"the bonny cuckoo," and poor campbell's "exile's of erin." these and a few of lover's and mahony's songs can alone compete with moore. but, save one or two by lysaght and drennan, almost all the irish political songs are too desponding or weak to content a people marching to independence as proudly as if they had never been slaves. the popularity and immense circulation of the _spirit of the nation_ proved that it represented the hopes and passions of the irish people. this looks like vanity; but as a corporation so numerous as the contributors to that volume cannot blush, we shall say our say. for instance, who did not admire "the memory of the dead"? the very stamp officers were galvanised by it, and the attorney-general was repeatedly urged to sing it for the jury. he refused--he had no music to sing it to. we pitied and forgave him; but we vowed to leave him no such excuse next time. if these songs were half so good as people called them, they deserved to flow from a million throats to as noble music as ever o'neill or o'connor heard. some of them were written to, and some freely combined with, old and suitable airs. these we resolved to have printed with the music, certain that, thus, the music would be given back to a people who had been ungratefully neglecting it, and the words carried into circles where they were still unknown. others of these poems, indeed the best of them, had no antetypes in our ancient music. new music was, therefore, to be sought for them. not on their account only was it to be sought. we hoped they would be the means of calling out and making known a contemporary music fresh with the spirit of the time, and rooted in the country. since carolan's death there had been no addition to the store. not that we were without composers, but those we have do not compose irish-like music, nor for ireland. their rewards are from a foreign public--their fame, we fear, will suffer from alienage. balfe is very sweet, and rooke very emphatic, but not one passion or association in ireland's heart would answer to their songs. fortunately there was one among us (perchance his example may light us to others) who can smite upon our harp like a master, and make it sigh with irish memories, and speak sternly with ireland's resolve. to him, to his patriotism, to his genius, and, we may selfishly add, to his friendship, we owe our ability now to give to ireland music fit for "the memory of the dead" and the "hymn of freedom," and whatever else was marked out by popularity for such care as his. in former editions of the _spirit_[ ] we had thrown in carelessly several inferior verses and some positive trash, and neither paper nor printing was any great honour to the dublin press. every improvement in the power of the most enterprising publisher in ireland has been made, and every fault, within our reach or his, cured--and whether as the first publication of original airs, as a selection of ancient music, or as a specimen of what the dublin press can do, in printing, paper, or cheapness, we urge the public to support this work of mr. james duffy's--and, in a pecuniary way, it is his altogether. we had hoped to have added a recommendation to the first number of this work, besides whatever attraction may lie in its music, its ballads, or its mechanical beauty. an artist, whom we shall not describe or he would be known,[ ] sketched a cover and title for it. the idea, composition, and drawing of that design were such as flaxman might have been proud of. it is a monument to bardic power, to patriotism, to our music and our history. there is at least as much poetry in it as in the best verses in the work it illustrates. if it do nothing else, it will show our irish artists that refinement and strength, passion and dignity, are as practicable in irish as in german painting; and the lesson was needed sorely. but if it lead him who drew it to see that our history and hopes present fit forms to embody the highest feelings of beauty, wisdom, truth, and glory in, irrespective of party politics, then, indeed, we shall have served our country when we induced our gifted friend to condescend to sketching a title-page. we need not describe that design now, as it will appear on the cover of the second number, and on the title-page of the finished volume. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] a splendid edition of this work, greatly enlarged, and printed in the irish exhibition buildings, was issued by messrs. duffy and sons, september, . [ ] the artist referred to was sir frederick burton. [ed.] ballad poetry of ireland. how slow we have all been in coming to understand the meaning of irish nationality! some, dazzled by visions of pagan splendour, and the pretensions of pedigree, and won by the passions and romance of the olden races, continued to speak in the nineteenth century of an irish nation as they might have done in the tenth. they forgot the english pale, the ulster settlement, and the filtered colonisation of men and ideas. a celtic kingdom with the old names and the old language, without the old quarrels, was their hope; and though they would not repeat o'neill's comment as he passed barrett's castle on his march to kinsale, and heard it belonged to a strongbownian, that "he hated the norman churl as if he came yesterday"; yet they quietly assumed that the norman and saxon elements would disappear under the gaelic genius like the tracks of cavalry under a fresh crop. the nationality of swift and grattan was equally partial. they saw that the government and laws of the settlers had extended to the island--that donegal and kerry were in the pale; they heard the english tongue in dublin, and london opinions in dublin--they mistook ireland for a colony wronged, and great enough to be a nation. a lower form of nationhood was before the minds of those who saw in it nothing but a parliament in college green. they had not erred in judging, for they had not tried to estimate the moral elements and tendencies of the country. they were as narrow bigots to the omnipotency of an institution as any cockney radical. could they, by any accumulation of english stupidity and irish laziness, have got possession of an irish government, they would soon have distressed every one by their laws, whom they had not provoked by their administration, or disgusted by their dulness. far healthier, with all its defects, was the idea of those who saw in scotland a perfect model--who longed for a literary and artistic nationality--who prized the oratory of grattan and curran, the novels of griffin and carleton, the pictures of maclise and burton, the ancient music, as much as any, and far more than most, of the political nationalists, but who regarded political independence as a dangerous dream. unknowingly they fostered it. their writings, their patronage, their talk was of ireland; yet it hardly occurred to them that the ideal would flow into the practical, or that they, with their dread of agitation, were forwarding a revolution. at last we are beginning to see what we are, and what is our destiny. our duty arises where our knowledge begins. the elements of irish nationality are not only combining--in fact, they are growing confluent in our minds. such nationality as merits a good man's help and wakens a true man's ambition--such nationality as could stand against internal faction and foreign intrigue--such nationality as would make the irish hearth happy and the irish name illustrious, is becoming understood. it must contain and represent the races of ireland. it must not be celtic, it must not be saxon--it must be irish. the brehon law and the maxims of westminster, the cloudy and lightning genius of the gael, the placid strength of the sasanach, the marshalling insight of the norman--a literature which shall exhibit in combination the passions and idioms of all, and which shall equally express our mind in its romantic, its religious, its forensic, and its practical tendencies--finally, a native government, which shall know and rule by the might and right of all; yet yield to the arrogance of none--these are components of _such_ a nationality. but what have these things to do with the "ballad poetry of ireland"? much every way. it is the result of the elements we have named--it is compounded of all; and never was there a book fitter to advance that perfect nationality to which ireland begins to aspire. that a country is without national poetry proves its hopeless dulness or its utter provincialism. national poetry is the very flowering of the soul--the greatest evidence of its health, the greatest excellence of its beauty. its melody is balsam to the senses. it is the playfellow of childhood ripens into the companion of his manhood, consoles his age. it presents the most dramatic events, the largest characters, the most impressive scenes, and the deepest passions in the language most familiar to us. it shows us magnified, and ennobles our hearts, our intellects, our country, and our countrymen--binds us to the land by its condensed and gem-like history, to the future by examples and by aspirations. it solaces us in travel, fires us in action, prompts our invention, sheds a grace beyond the power of luxury round our homes, is the recognised envoy of our minds among all mankind and to all time. in possessing the powers and elements of a glorious nationality, we owned the sources of a national poetry. in the combination and joint development of the latter we find a pledge and a help to that of the former. this book of mr. duffy's,[ ] true as it is to the wants of the time, is not fortuitous. he has prefaced his admirable collection by an introduction, which proves his full consciousness of the worth of his task, and proves equally his ability to execute it. in a space too short for the most impatient to run by he has accurately investigated the sources of irish ballad poetry, vividly defined the qualities of each, and laboured with perfect success to show that all naturally combine towards one great end, as the brooks to a river, which marches on clear, deep, and single, though they be wild, and shallow, and turbid, flowing from unlike regions, and meeting after countless windings. mr. duffy maps out three main forces which unequally contribute to an irish ballad poetry. the _first_ consists of the gaelic ballads. true to the vehemence and tendencies of the celtic people, and representing equally their vagueness and extravagance during slavish times, they nevertheless remain locked from the middle and upper classes generally, and from the peasantry of more than half ireland, in an unknown language. many of them have been translated by rhymers--few indeed by poets. the editor of the volume before us has brought into one house nearly all the poetical translations from the irish, and thus finely justifies the ballad literature of the gael from its calumnious friend:-- "with a few exceptions, all the translations we are acquainted with, in addition to having abundance of minor faults, are eminently un-irish. they seem to have been made by persons to whom one of the languages was not familiar. many of them were confessedly versified from prose translations, and are mere english poems, without a tinge of the colour or character of the country. others, translated by sound irish scholars, are bald and literal; the writers sometimes wanting a facility of versification, sometimes a mastery over the english language. the irish scholars of the last century were too exclusively national to study the foreign tongue with the care essential to master its metrical resources; and the flexible and weighty language which they had not learned to wield hung heavily on them, 'like saul's plate armour on the shepherd boy, encumbering, and _not_ arming them.' if it were just to estimate our bardic poetry by the specimens we have received in this manner, it could not be rated highly. but it would manifestly be most unjust. noble and touching, and often subtle and profound thoughts, which no translation could entirely spoil, shine through the poverty of the style, and vindicate the character of the originals. like the costly arms and ornaments found in our bogs, they are substantial witnesses of a distinct civilisation; and their credit is no more diminished by the rubbish in which they chance to be found than the authenticity of the ancient _torques_ and _skians_ by their embedment in the mud. when the entire collection of our irish percy--james hardiman--shall have been given to a public (and soon may such a one come) that can relish them in their native dress, they will be entitled to undisputed precedence in our national minstrelsy." about a dozen of the ballads in the volume are derived from the irish. it is only in this way that clarence mangan (a name to which mr. duffy does just honour) contributes to the volume. there are four translations by him, exhibiting eminently his perfect mastery of versification--his flexibility of passion, from loneliest grief to the maddest humour. one of these, "the lament for o'neil and o'donnell," is the strongest, though it will not be the most popular, ballad in the work. callanan's and ferguson's translations, if not so daringly versified, are simpler and more irish in idiom. most, indeed, of callanan's successful ballads are translations, and well entitle him to what he passionately prays for--a minstrel of free erin to come to his grave, "and plant a wild wreath from the banks of the river o'er the heart and the harp that are sleeping for ever." but we are wrong in speaking of mr. ferguson's translations in precisely the same way. his "wicklow war song" is condensed, epigrammatic, and crashing, as anything we know of, except the "pibroch of donnil dhu." the _second_ source is--the common people's ballads. most of these "make no pretence to being true to ireland, but only being true to the _purlieus_ of cork and dublin"; yet now and then one meets a fine burst of passion, and oftener a racy idiom. the "drimin dhu," "the blackbird," "peggy bawn," "irish molly," "willy reilly," and the "fair of turloughmore," are the specimens given here. of these "willy reilly" (an old and worthy favourite in ulster, it seems, but quite unknown elsewhere) is the best; but it is too long to quote, and we must limit ourselves to the noble opening verse of "turloughmore"-- "'come, tell me, dearest mother, what makes my father stay, or what can be the reason that he's so long away?' oh! 'hold your tongue, my darling son, your tears do grieve me sore; i fear he has been murdered in the fair of turloughmore.'" the _third_ and principal source consists of the anglo-irish ballads, written during the last twenty or thirty years. of this highest class, he who contributes most and, to our mind, best is mr. ferguson. we have already spoken of his translations--his original ballads are better. there is nothing in this volume--nothing in _percy's relics_, or the _border minstrelsy_, to surpass, perhaps to equal, "willy gilliland." it is as natural in structure as "kinmont willie," as vigorous as "otterbourne," and as complete as "lochinvar." leaving his irish idiom, we get in the "forester's complaint" as harmonious versification, and in the "forging of the anchor" as vigorous thoughts, mounted on bounding words, as anywhere in the english literature. we must quote some stray verses from "willy gilliland":-- "up in the mountain solitudes, and in a rebel ring, he has worshipped god upon the hill, in spite of church and king; and sealed his treason with his blood on bothwell bridge he hath; so he must fly his father's land, or he must die the death; for comely claverhouse has come along with grim dalzell, and his smoking roof tree testifies they've done their errand well. * * * * * * * * * * "his blithe work done, upon a bank the outlaw rested now, and laid the basket from his back, the bonnet from his brow; and there, his hand upon the book, his knee upon the sod, he filled the lonely valley with the gladsome word of god; and for a persecuted kirk, and for her martyrs dear, and against a godless church and king he spoke up loud and clear. * * * * * * * * * * "'my bonny mare! i've ridden you when claver'se rode behind, and from the thumbscrew and the boot you bore me like the wind; and while i have the life you saved, on your sleek flank, i swear, episcopalian rowel shall never ruffle hair! though sword to wield they've left me none--yet wallace wight i wis, good battle did, on irvine side, wi' waur weapon than this.'-- "his fishing-rod with both his hands he gripped it as he spoke, and, where the butt and top were spliced, in pieces twain he broke; the limber top he cast away, with all its gear abroad, but, grasping the tough hickory butt, with spike of iron shod, he ground the sharp spear to a point; then pulled his bonnet down, and, meditating black revenge, set forth for carrick town." the only ballad equally racy is "the croppy boy," by some anonymous but most promising writer. griffin's "gille machree"--of another class--is perfect--"striking on the heart," as mr. duffy finely says, "like the cry of a woman"; but his "orange and green," and his "bridal of malahide," belong to the same class, and suffer by comparison, with mr. ferguson's ballads. banim's greatest ballad, the "soggarth aroon," possesses even deeper tenderness and more perfect irish idiom than anything in the volume. among the collection are colonel blacker's famous orange ballad, "oliver's advice" ("put your trust in god, my boys, but keep your powder dry"), and two versions of the "boyne water." the latter and older one, given in the appendix, is by far the finest, and contains two unrivalled stanzas:-- "both foot and horse they marched on, intending them to batter, but the brave duke schomberg he was shot as he crossed over the water. when that king william he observed the brave duke schomberg falling, he rein'd his horse, with a heavy heart, on the enniskilleners calling; 'what will you do for me, brave boys? see yonder men retreating, our enemies encouraged are--and english drums are beating'; he says 'my boys, feel no dismay at the losing of one commander, for god shall be our king this day, and i'll be general under.'" nor less welcome is the comment:-- "some of the ulster ballads, of a restricted and provincial spirit, having less in common with ireland than with scotland; two or three orange ballads, altogether ferocious or foreign in their tendencies (preaching murder, or deifying an alien), will be no less valuable to the patriot or the poet on this account. they echo faithfully the sentiments of a strong, vehement, and indomitable body of irishmen, who may come to battle for their country better than they ever battled for prejudices or their bigotries. at all events, to know what they love and believe is a precious knowledge." on the language of most of the ballads mr. duffy says:-- "many of them, and generally the best, are just as essentially irish as if they were written in gaelic. they could have grown among no other people, perhaps under no other sky or scenery. to an englishman, to any irishman educated out of the country, or to a dreamer asleep to impressions of scenery and character, they would be achievements as impossible as the swedish _skalds_ or the _arabian nights_. they are as irish as ossian or carolan, and unconsciously reproduce the spirit of those poets better than any translator can hope to do. they revive and perpetuate the vehement native songs that gladdened the halls of our princes in their triumphs, and wailed over their ruined hopes or murdered bodies. in everything but language, and almost in language, they are identical. that strange tenacity of the celtic race, which makes a description of their habits and propensities when cæsar was still a proconsul in gaul true in essentials of the irish people to this day, has enabled them to infuse the ancient and hereditary spirit of the country into all that is genuine of our modern poetry. and even the language grew almost irish. the soul of the country, stammering its passionate grief and hatred in a strange tongue, loved still to utter them in its old familiar idioms and cadences. uttering them, perhaps, with more piercing earnestness, because of the impediment; and winning out of the very difficulty a grace and a triumph." how often have we wished for such a companion as this volume! worse than meeting unclean beds, or drenching mists, or cockney opinions, was it to have to take the mountains with a book of scottish ballads. they were glorious, to be sure, but they were not ours--they had not the brown of the climate on their cheek, they spoke of places afar, and ways which are not our country's ways, and hopes which were not ireland's, and their tongue was not that we first made sport and love with. yet how mountaineer without ballads any more than without a shillelagh? no; we took the scots ballads, and felt our souls rubbing away with envy and alienage amid their attractions; but now, brighid, be praised! we can have all irish thoughts on irish hills, true to them as the music, or the wind, or the sky. happy boys! who may grow up with such ballads in your memories. happy men! who will find your hearts not only doubtful but joyous in serving and sacrificing for the country you thus learned in childhood to love. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] _ballad poetry of ireland_,--library of ireland, no. ii. a ballad history of ireland. of course the first _object_ of the work we project[ ] will be to make irish history familiar to the minds, pleasant to the ears, dear to the passions, and powerful over the taste and conduct of the irish people in times to come. more _events_ could be put into a prose history. exact dates, subtle plots, minute connections and motives rarely appear in ballads, and for these ends the worst prose history is superior to the best ballad series; but these are not the highest ends of history. to hallow or accurse the scenes of glory and honour, or of shame and sorrow; to give to the imagination the arms, and homes, and senates, and battles of other days; to rouse, and soften, and strengthen, and enlarge us with the passions of great periods; to lead us into love of self-denial, of justice, of beauty, of valour, of generous life and proud death; and to set up in our souls the memory of great men, who shall then be as models and judges of our actions--these are the highest duties of history, and these are best taught by a ballad history. a ballad history is welcome to childhood, from its rhymes, its high colouring, and its aptness to memory. as we grow into boyhood, the violent passions, the vague hopes, the romantic sorrow of patriot ballads are in tune with our fitful and luxuriant feelings. in manhood we prize the condensed narrative, the grave firmness, the critical art, and the political sway of ballads. and in old age they are doubly dear; the companions and reminders of our life, the toys and teachers of our children and grand-children. every generation finds its account in them. they pass from mouth to mouth like salutations; and even the minds which lose their words are under their influence, as one can recall the starry heavens who cannot revive the form of a single constellation. in olden times all ballads were made to music, and the minstrel sang them to his harp or screamed them in recitative. thus they reached farther, were welcomer guests in feast and camp, and were better preserved. we shall have more to say on this in speaking of our proposed song collection. printing so multiplies copies of ballads, and intercourse is so general, that there is less need of this adaptation to music now. moreover, it may be disputed whether the dramatic effect in the more solemn ballads is not injured by lyrical forms. in such streaming exhortations and laments as we find in the greek choruses and in the adjurations and caoines of the irish, the breaks and parallel repetitions of a song might lower the passion. were we free to do so, we could point out instances in the _spirit of the nation_ in which the rejection of song-forms seems to have been essential to the awfulness of the occasion. in pure narratives and in the gayer and more splendid, though less stern ballads, the song-forms and adaptation to music are clear gains. in the scotch ballads this is usual, in the english rare. we look in vain through southey's admirable ballads--"mary the maid of the inn," "jaspar," "inchcape rock," "bishop hatto," "king henry v. and the hermit of dreux"--for either burden, chorus, or adaptation to music. in the "battle of blenheim" there is, however, an occasional burden line; and in the smashing "march to moscow" there is a great chorusing about-- "morbleu! parbleu! what a pleasant excursion to moscow." coleridge has some skilful repetitions and exquisite versification in his "ancient mariner," "genevieve," "alice du clos," but nowhere a systematic burden. campbell has no burdens in his finest lyric ballads, though the subjects were fitted for them. the burden of the "exile of erin" belongs very doubtfully to him. macaulay's best ballad, the "battle of ivry," is greatly aided by the even burden line; but he has not repeated the experiment, though he, too, makes much use of repeating lines in his roman lays and other ballads. while, then, we counsel burdens in historical ballads, we would recognise excepted cases where they may be injurious, and treat them as in _no case_ essential to perfect ballad success. in songs, we would almost always insist either on a chorus, verse, or a burden of some sort. a burden need not be at the end of the verse; but may, with quite equal success, be at the beginning or in the body of it, as may be seen in the scotch ballads, and in some of those in the _spirit of the nation_. the old scotch and english ballads, and lockhart's translations from the spanish, are mostly composed in one metre, though written down in either of two ways. macaulay's roman lays and "ivry" are in this metre. take an example from the last:-- "press where ye see my white plume shine, amid the ranks of war, and be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of navarre." in the old ballads this would be printed in four lines, of eight syllables and six alternately, and rhyming only alternately, thus:-- "press where ye see my white plume shine, amid the ranks of war, and be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of navarre." so macaulay himself prints this metre in some of his roman lays. but the student should rather avoid than seek this metre. the uniform old beat of eight and six is apt to fall monotonously on the ear, and some of the most startling effects are lost in it. in the _spirit of the nation_ the student will find many other ballad metres. campbell's metres, though new and glorious things, are terrible traps to imitation, and should be warily used. the german ballads, and, still more, mr. mangan's translations of them, contain great variety of new and safe, though difficult, metres. next in frequency to the fourteen-syllable line is that in eleven syllables, such as "mary ambree" and "lochinvar"; and for a rolling brave ballad 'tis a fine metre. the metre of fifteen syllables with double rhymes, (or accents) in the middle, and that of thirteen, with double rhymes at the end, is tolerably frequent, and the metre used by father prout, in his noble translation of "duke d'alençon," is admirable, and easier than it seems. by the way, what a grand burden runs through that ballad:-- "fools! to believe the sword could give to the children of the rhine, our gallic fields--the land that yields the olive and the vine!" the syllables are as in the common metre, but it has thrice the rhymes. we have seen great materials wasted in a struggle with a crotchety metre; therefore, though we counsel the invention of metres, we would add that unless a metre come out racily and appropriately in the first couple of verses, it should be abandoned, and some of those easily marked metres taken up. a historical ballad will commonly be narrative in its form, but not necessarily so. a hymn of exultation--a call to a council, an army, or a people--a prophecy--a lament--or a dramatic scene (as in lochiel), may give as much of event, costume, character, and even scenery as a mere narration. the varieties of form are infinite, and it argues lack of force in a writer to keep always to mere narration, though when exact events are to be told that may be the best mode. one of the essential qualities of a good historical ballad is truth. to pervert history--to violate nature, in order to make a fine clatter, has been the aim in too many of the ballads sent us. he who goes to write a historical ballad should master the main facts of the time, and state them truly. it may be well for those perhaps either not to study or to half-forget minute circumstances until after his ballad is drafted out, lest he write a chronicle, not a ballad; but he will do well, ere he suffers it to leave his study, to reconsider the facts of the time or man, or act of which he writes, and see if he cannot add force to his statements, an antique grace to his phrases, and colour to his language. truth and appropriateness in ballads require great knowledge and taste. to write an irish historical ballad, one should know the events which he would describe, and know them not merely from an isolated study of his subject, but from old familiarity, which shall have associated them with his tastes and passions, and connected them with other parts of history. how miserable a thing is to put forward a piece of vehement declamation and vague description, which might be uttered of any event, or by the man of any time, as a historical ballad. we have had battle ballads sent us that would be as characteristic of marathon or waterloo as of clontarf--laments that might have been uttered by a german or a hindu--and romances equally true to love all the world over. such historical study extends not merely to the events. a ballad writer should try to find the voice, colour, stature, passions, and peculiar faculties of his hero--the arms, furniture, and dress of the congress, or the champions, or the troops he tells of--the rites wherewith the youth were married--the dead interred, and god worshipped; and the architecture--previous history and pursuits (and, therefore, probable ideas and phrases) of the men he describes. many of these things he will get in books. he should shun compilations, and take up original journals, letters, state papers, statutes, and cotemporary fictions and narratives as much as possible. let him not much mind leland or curry (after he has run over them), but work like fury at the archæological society's books--at harris's hibernica, at lodge's desiderata curiosa hibernica, at strafford's pacata, spencer's view, giraldus's narrative, fynes moryson's itinerary, the ormond papers, the state papers of henry the eighth, stafford's and cromwell's and rinuccini's letters, and the correspondence and journals, from donald o'neill's letter to the pope down to wolfe tone's glorious memoirs. in the songs, and even their names, many a fine hint can be got; and he is not likely to be a perfect balladist of ireland who has not felt to tears and laughter the deathless passions of irish music. we have condemned compilations; but the ballad student may well labour at ware's antiquities. he will find in the history of british costume, published by the useful knowledge society, and in the illustrated work now in progress called old england, but beyond all other books, in the historical works of thierry, most valuable materials. nothing, not even the border minstrelsy, percy's relics, the jacobite ballads, or the archæological tracts, can be of such service as a repeated study of the norman conquest, the ten years' study, and the merovingian times of augustine thierry. we know he has rashly stated some events on insufficient authority, and drawn conclusions beyond the warrant of his promises; but there is more deep dramatic skill, more picturesque and coloured scenery, more distinct and characteristic grouping, and more lively faith to the look and spirit of the men and times and feelings of which he writes, in thierry, than in any other historian that ever lived. he has almost an intuition in favour of liberty, and his vindication of the "men of ' " out of the slanderous pages of musgrave is a miracle of historical skill and depth of judgment. in the irish academy in dublin there is a collection (now arranged and rapidly increasing) of ancient arms and utensils. private collections exist in many provincial towns, especially in ulster. indeed, we know an orange painter in a northern village who has a finer collection of irish antiquities than all of the munster cities put together. accurate observation of, and discussion on, such collections will be of vast service to a writer of historical ballads. topography is also essential to a ballad, or to any historian. this is not only necessary to save a writer from such gross blunder as we met the other day in wharton's ballad, called "the grave of king arthur," where he talks of "the steeps of rough kildare," but to give accuracy and force to both general references and local description. ireland must be known to her ballad historians, not by flat, but by shaded maps, and topographical and scenic descriptions; not by maps of to-day only, but by maps (such as ortelius and the maps in the state papers) of ireland in time past; and, finally, it must be known by the _eye_. a man who has not raced on our hills, panted on our mountains, waded our rivers in drought and flood, pierced our passes, skirted our coast, noted our old towns, and learned the shape and colour of ground and tree and sky, is not master of all a balladist's art. scott knew scotland thus, and, moreover, he seems never to have laid a scene in a place that he had not studied closely and alone. what we have heretofore advised relates to the structure, truth, and colouring of ballads; but there is something more needed to raise a ballad above the beautiful--it must have force. strong passions, daring invention, vivid sympathy for great acts--these are the result of one's whole life and nature. into the temper and training of "a poet," we do not presume to speak. few have spoken wisely of them. emerson, in his recent essay, has spoken like an angel on the mission of "the poet." ambition for pure power (not applause); passionate sympathy with the good, and strong, and beautiful; insight into nature, and such loving mastery over its secrets as a husband hath over a wife's mind, are the surest tests of one "called" by destiny to tell to men the past, present, and future, in words so perfect that generations shall feel and remember. we merely meant to give some "hints on the properties of historical ballads"--they will be idle save to him who has the mind of a poet. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] a "ballad history of ireland." the songs of ireland.[ ] there are great gaps in irish song to be filled up. this is true even of the songs of the irish-speaking people. many of the short snatches preserved among them from olden times are sweet and noble; but the bulk of the songs are very defective. most of those hitherto in use were composed during the last century, and therefore their structure is irregular, their grief slavish and despairing, their joy reckless and bombastic, their religion bitter and sectarian, their politics jacobite and concealed by extravagant and tiresome allegory. ignorance, disorder, and every kind of oppression weakened and darkened the lyric genius of ireland. even these, such as they are, diminish daily in the country, and a lower class comes in. we have before us a number of the ballads now printed at cork, in irish, and english and irish mixed. they are little above the street ballads in the english tongue. if hardiman's and daly's collections be fair specimens (as we believe they are) of the irish jacobite songs, we should not care to have more than a few of them given to the people; but, perhaps, there may be twenty, which, if printed clearly in slips, would sell as ballads in the irish districts. assuming that the morsels given in o'reilly's catalogue of irish writers do not exaggerate the merits of the older bards, their works would supply numberless pastoral, love, joy, wailing, and war songs. a popular editor of these could condense them into three or four verses each--cut them so as exactly to suit the airs, preserve the local and broad historical allusions, but remove the clumsy ornaments and exaggerations. this is what ramsay, burns, and cunningham did with the lowland scotch songs, and thus made them what they are--the best in europe. this need not prevent complete editions of these songs in learned books; but such books are for libraries, not cabins. there is one want, however, in _all_ the irish songs--it is of strictly national lyrics. they are national in form and colour, but clannish in opinion. in fact, from brian's death, there was no thought of an irish nation, save when some great event, like aodh o'neill's march to munster, or owen roe's victory at beinnburb, flashed and vanished. these songs celebrate m'carthy or o'more, o'connor or o'neill--_his_ prowess, _his_ following, _his_ hospitality; but they cry down his irish or "more than irish" neighbour as fiercely as they do the foreign oppressor. true it is, you will find amid the flight of minstrels one bolder than the rest, who mourns for the time when the milesians swayed, and tells that "a soul has come into eire," and summons all the milesian tribes to battle for ireland. but even in the seventeenth century, when the footing of the norman and saxon in ireland was as sure as that of the once-invading milesians themselves, we find the cry purely to the older irish races, and the bounds of the nation made, not by the island, but by genealogy. we may remark, in passing, that on no hypothesis did these same milesians form more than the aristocracy of ancient ireland--a class--a race of conquerors. dr. machale has made a noble attempt to supply this deficiency by his translation of moore into irish; but we are told that the language of his translation is too literary, and that the people do not relish these songs. a stronger reason for their failure (if in so short a time their fate can be judged) is, that the originals want the idiom and colour of the country, and are too subtle in thought. this remark does not apply to moore's love songs, not to some, at least, of his political lyrics, and we cannot doubt that, if translated into vernacular irish, and printed as ballads, they would succeed. for the present nothing better can be done than to paraphrase the _songs of the nation_ into racy and musical irish; though a time may come when someone born amid the irish tongue, reared amid gaelic associations, instructed in the state of modern ireland, and filled with passion and prophecy, shall sing the union and destiny of all the races settled on irish ground, till the vales of munster and the cliffs of connaught ring with the words of nationality. but whatever may be done by translation and editing for the songs of the irish-speaking race, those of our english-speaking countrymen are to be written. moore, griffin, banim, and callanan have written plenty of songs. those of moore have reached the drawing rooms; but what do the people know even of his? buy a ballad in any street in ireland, from the metropolis to the village, and you will find in it, perhaps, some humour, some tenderness, and some sweetness of sound; but you will certainly find bombast, or slander, or coarseness, united in all cases with false rhythm, false rhyme, conceited imagery, black paper, and blotted printing. a high class of ballads would do immense good--the present race demean and mislead the people as much as they stimulate them; for the sale of these ballads is immense, and printers in dublin, drogheda, cork, and belfast live by their sale exclusively. were an enterprising man to issue the choice songs of drennan, griffin, moore, on good paper, and well printed, he would make a fortune of "halfpenny ballads." the anglo-irish songs, though most of the last century, are generally indecent or factious. the cadets of the munster protestants, living like garrison soldiers, drinking, racing, and dancing, wrote the one class. the clergy of the ulster presbyterians wrote the other. "the rakes of mallow" and "the protestant boys" are choice specimens of the two classes--vigorous, and musical, and irish, no doubt, but surely not fit for this generation. great opportunities came with the volunteers and united irishmen, but the men were wanting. we have but one good volunteer song. it was written by lysaght, after that illustrious militia was dissolved. drennan's "wake of william orr" is not a song; but he gave the united men the only good song they had--"when erin first rose." in "paddy's resource," the text-book of the men who were "up," there is but one tolerable song--"god save the rights of man;" nor, looking beyond these, can we think of anything of a high class but "the sean bhean bhochd," "the wearing of the green," lysaght's "island," and reynolds' "erin-go-bragh," if it be his. two of lady morgan's songs, "savournah dilis" and "kate kearney," have certainly gone through all classes; and perhaps we might add a little to these exceptions; but it is a sad fact that most of the few good songs we have described are scarce, and are never printed in a ballad shape. there is plenty, then, for the present race of irish lyrists to do. they have a great heritage in the national music. it has every excellence and every variety. it is not needful for a writer of our songs to be a musician, though he will certainly gain much accuracy and save much labour to others and himself by being so. moore is a musician of great attainments, and burns used to compose his songs when going over, and over, and over the tune with or without words. but constantly listening to the playing of irish airs will enable any man with a tolerable ear, and otherwise qualified, to write words to them. here, we would give two cautions. first--that the airs in moore's melodies are very corrupt, and should never be used for the study of irish music. this is even more true of lover's tunes. there is no need of using them, for bunting's and holden's collections are cheaper, and contain pure settings. secondly--that as there are hundreds of the finest airs to which no english words have been written, and as the effect of a song is greatly increased by having one set of words always joined with one tune, our versifiers should carefully avoid the airs to which moore, griffin, or any other irishman has written even moderately good words. in endeavouring to learn an air for the purpose of writing words to it, the first care should, of course, be to get at its character--as gay, hopeful, loving, sentimental, lively, hesitating, woeful, despairing, resolute, fiery, or variable. many irish airs take a different character when played fast or slow, lightly or strongly; but there is some one mode of playing which is best of all, and the character expressed by it must determine the character of the words. for nothing can be worse than a gay song to calm music, or massive words to a delicate air; in all cases _the tune must suggest, and will suggest, to the lyrist the sentiment of the words_. the tune will, of course, fix the number of lines in a verse. frequently the number and order of the lines can be varied. three rhymes and a fall, or couplets, or alternate rhymes, may answer the same set of notes; or rhymes, if too numerous, may be got rid of by making one long, instead of two short lines. where the same notes come with emphasis at the ends of musical phrases, the words should rhyme, in order to secure the full effect. the doubling two lines into one is most convenient where the first has accents on both the last syllables, for you thus escape the necessity of double rhyming. in the softer airs the effect of this is rather agreeable than otherwise. talking of double rhymes, they are peculiarly fitted for strong political and didactic songs, for the abstract and political words in english are chiefly of latin origin, of considerable length and gravity, and have double accents. the more familiar english words (which best suit most songs) contain few doubly-accented terminations, and are, therefore, little fitted for double rhyming. expletive syllables in the beginning of lines where the tune is sharp and gay are often an improvement, but they should never follow a double rhyme. in strong and firm tunes, having a syllable for every note is a perfection, though one hard to be attained without harshness, from the crowd of consonants in english. with soft tunes, on the other hand, it is commonly better to have in most lines two or more light notes to one syllable, so that the words may be dwelt on and softly sounded; but where and how must be determined by the taste of the writer. the sound of the air will always show the current of thought, its pauses and changes; and a nice attention and bold sympathy with these properties of a tune is necessary to lyrical success. a great advantage, too, of writing for existing airs is the variety of metres thus gained, and the naturally greater variety of thought and expression thus suggested. we have spoken, in reference to ballads, of the use of choruses and burdens, and said that we thought there were some ballads which were injured by them; but all songs, save (perhaps) those of desperate sorrow, gain by burden lines and choruses. they are almost universal in the native irish and lowland scotch. beranger has employed them in most of his songs, and moore in many of his. a chorus should, of course, contain the very spirit of the song--bounding, if it be gay; fierce, if it be bold; doting, if it loves. merely repeating one verse between, or at the head or tail of another, is not putting a chorus; it must be _the_ verse which beats the best on your ear, and has the most echo in your heart. so, too, of burdens; they are not made merely by bringing in the same words in like places. they must be marked words forcibly brought in. irish choruses have often a glorious effect in english songs, nor need anyone familiar with the peasantry, or with edward o'reilly's irish writers, published as the first part of the _transactions of the iberno-celtic society_ be at any loss for them. these are some of the minutiæ of song-writing, which we note for the consideration of our young writers, leaving them to add to or modify these, according to their observation. of course, different men and different moods will produce various classes of songs. we shall have places for all, songs for the street and field require simple words, bold, strong imagery, plain, deep passions (love, patriotism, conciliation, glory, indignation, resolve), daring humour, broad narrative, highest morals. in songs for the wealthier classes, greater subtlety, remoter allusion, less obvious idiom and construction, will be tolerable, though in all cases we think simplicity and heartiness needful to the perfect success of a song. if men able to write will fling themselves gallantly and faithfully on the work we have here plotted for them, we shall soon have fair and theatre, concert and drawing-room, road and shop, echoing with songs bringing home love, courage, and patriotism to every heart. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] this essay, together with another of less value, was reprinted from _the nation_ by m. j. barry as an introduction to his "songs of ireland" . [ed.] influences of education. "educate, that you may be free." we are most anxious to get the quiet, strong-minded people who are scattered through the country to see the force of this great truth; and we therefore ask them to listen soberly to us for a few minutes, and when they have done to think and talk again and again over what we say. if ireland had all the elements of a nation, she might, and surely would, at once assume the forms of one, and proclaim her independence. wherein does she now differ from prussia? she has a strong and compact territory, girt by the sea; prussia's lands are open and flat, and flung loosely through europe, without mountain or river, breed or tongue, to bound them. ireland has a military population equal to the recruitment of, and a produce able to pay, a first-rate army. her harbours, her soil, and her fisheries are not surpassed in europe. wherein, we ask again, does ireland now differ from prussia? why can prussia wave her flag among the proudest in europe, while ireland is a farm? it is not in the name of a kingdom, nor in the formalities of independence. we could assume them to-morrow--we could assume them with better warrants from history and nature than prussia holds; but the result of such assumption would perchance be a miserable defeat. the difference is in knowledge. were the offices of prussia abolished to-morrow--her colleges and schools levelled--her troops disarmed and disbanded, she would within six months regain her whole civil and military institutions. ireland has been struggling for years, and may have to struggle many more, to acquire liberty to form institutions. whence is the difference? knowledge! the prussians could, at a week's notice, have their central offices at full work in any village in the kingdom, so exactly known are their statistics, and so general is official skill. minds make administration--all the desks, and ledgers, and powers of downing street or the castle would be handed in vain to the ignorants of ---- any untaught district in ireland. the prussians could open their collegiate classes and their professional and elementary schools as fast as the order therefor, from any authority recognised by the people, reached town after town--we can hardly in ten years get a few schools open for our people, craving for knowledge as they are. the prussians could re-arm their glorious militia in a month, and re-organise it in three days; for the mechanical arts are very generally known, military science is familiar to most of the wealthier men, discipline and a soldier's skill are universal. if we had been offered arms to defend ireland by lord heytesbury, as the volunteers were by lord buckinghamshire, we would have had to seek for officers and drill-sergeants--though probably we could more rapidly advance in arms than anything else, from the military taste and aptness for war of the irish people. would it not be better for us to be like the prussians than as we are--better to have religious squabbles unknown, education universal, the people fed, and clad, and housed, and independent as becomes men; the army patriotic and strong; the public offices ably administered; the nation honoured and powerful? are not these to be desired and sought by protestant and catholic? are not these things _to be done_, if we are good and brave men? and is it not _plain_, from what we have said, that the reason for our not being all that prussia is, and something more, is ignorance--want of civil and military and general knowledge amongst all classes? this ignorance has not been our fault, but our misfortune. it was the interest of our ruler to keep us ignorant, that we might be weak; and she did so--first by laws, prohibiting education; then by refusing any provision for it; next, by perverting it into an engine of bigotry; and now, by giving it in a stunted, partial, anti-national way. practice is the great teacher, and the possession of independence is the natural and best way for a people to learn all that pertains to freedom and happiness. our greatest voluntary efforts, aided by the amplest provincial institutions, would teach us less in a century than we would learn in five years of liberty. in insisting on education we do not argue against the value of _immediate independence_. _that would be our best teacher._ an irish government and a national ambition would be to our minds as soft rains and rich sun to a growing crop. but we insist on education for the people, whether we get it from the government or give it to themselves as a round-about, and yet the only, means of getting strength enough to gain freedom. do our readers understand this? is what we have said _clear_ to _you_, reader!--whether you are a shopkeeper or a lawyer, a farmer or a doctor? if not, read it over again, for it is your own fault if it be not clear. if you now know our meaning, you must feel that it is your duty to your family and to yourself, to your country and to god, to _act_ upon it, to go and remove some of that ignorance which makes you and your neighbours weak, and therefore makes ireland a poor province. all of us have much to learn, but some of us have much to teach. to those who, from superior energy and ability, can teach the people, we now address ourselves. we have often before and shall often again repeat, that the majority of our population can neither read nor write, and therefore that from the small minority must come those fitted to be of any civil or military use beyond the lowest rank. the people may be and are honest, brave, and intelligent; but a man could as well dig with his hands as govern, or teach, or lead without the elements of knowledge. this however, is a defect which time and the national schools must cure; and the duty of the class to which we speak is to urge the establishment of such schools, the attendance of the children at them, and occasionally to observe and report, either directly or through the press, whether the admirable rules of the board are attended to. in most cases, too, the expenditure of a pound-note and a little time and advice would give the children of a school that instruction in national history and in statistics so shamefully omitted by the board. reader! will you do this? then of the three hundred repeal reading-rooms we know that some, and fear that many, are ill-managed, have few or no books, and are mere gossiping-rooms. such a room is useless; such a room is a disgrace to its members and their educated neighbours. the expense having been gone to of getting a room, it only remains for the members to establish fixed rules, and they will be supplied with the association reports (political reading enough for them), and it will be the plain duty of the repeal wardens to bring to such a room the newspapers supplied by the association. if such a body continue and give proofs of being in earnest, the repeal association will aid it by gifts of books, maps, etc., and thus a library, the centre of knowledge and nursery of useful and strong minds, will be made in that district. so miserably off is the country for books, that we have it before us on some authority that there are _ten counties in ireland without a single book-seller in them_. we blush for the fact; it is a disgrace to us; but we must have no lying or flinching. there is the hard fact; let us face it like men who are able for a difficulty--not as children putting their heads under the clothes when there is danger. reader! cannot you do something to remedy this great, this disabling misery of ireland? will not you _now_ try to get up a repeal reading-room, and when one is established get for it good rules, books from the association, and make it a centre of thought and power? these are but some of the ways in which such service can be done by the more for the less educated. they have other duties often pointed out by us. they can sustain and advance the different societies for promoting agriculture, manufactures, art, and literature in dublin and the country. they can set on foot and guide the establishment of temperance bands, and mechanics' institutes, and mutual instruction societies. they can give advice and facilities for improvement to young men of promise; and they can make their circles studious, refined, and ambitious, instead of being, like too many in ireland, ignorant, coarse, and lazy. the cheapness of books is now such that even irish poverty is no excuse for irish ignorance--that ignorance which prostrates us before england. we must help ourselves, and therefore we must educate ourselves. foreign travel. we lately strove to induce our wealthier countrymen to explore ireland before they left her shores in search of the beautiful and curious. we bid the economist search our towns and farms, our decayed manufactures, and improving tillage. waving our shillelagh, we shouted the cragsman to glenmalure and carn tual, and achill and slieve league. manuscript in hand, we pointed the antiquary to the hundred abbeys of north munster, the castles of the pale, the palaces and sepulchres of dunalin, aileach, rath croghan, and loughcrew, and we whispered to our countrywomen that the sun rose grandly on adragool, that the moon was soft on lough erne ("the rural venice"), and that the nore and blackwater ran by castled crags like their sweet voices over old songs. but there are some who had not waited for our call, but had dutifully grown up amid the sights and sounds of ireland, and knew the yellow fields of tipperary, and the crash of moher's wave, and the basalt barriers of antrim, and the moan or frown of wexford over the graves of ' , and there are others not yet sufficiently educated to prize home excellence. to such, then, and to all our brethren and sisters going abroad, we have to say a friendly word. we shall presume them to have visited london, woolwich, the factories of lancashire and warwick, and to have seen the cumberland lakes, and therefore to have seen all worth seeing in england, and that they are bound for somewhere else. for a pedestrian not rich there is wales--the soft vales of the far north and south clwyd, and the wye and llanrwst, and the central mountain groups of snowdon, and still finer of cader idris. but if he go there we pray him not to return without having heard and, so far as he could, noted down a few airs from the harp and cruit, collected specimens of the plants and minerals of wales for the museum (existing or to be) of his native town, studied the statistics of their great iron works or their little home-weaving; nor, if he has had the sense and spirit to take a welsh and an irish vocabulary, without some observations on the disputed analogy of the two languages, and how far it exists in general terms, as it certainly does in names of places. by the way, we warn him that he will know little of the peasantry, and come home in the dark about rebecca, unless he can speak welsh. the welsh have been truer to their language than we were to ours; their clergy ministered in it; their people refused their tongues to the saxon as if 'twere poison; and even their nobles, though tempted by england, welcomed the bard who lamented the defeat of rhuddlan, and gloried in the frequent triumphs of glendower. but let us rather classify pursuits than countries. we want the irish who go abroad to bring something back besides the weary tale of the louvre and munich, and the cliffs of the rhine, and the soft airs of italy. we have heard of a patriot adventurer who carried a handful of his native soil through the world. we want our friends to carry a purpose for ireland in their hearts, to study other lands wisely, and to bring back all knowledge for the sustenance and decoration of their dear home. how pleasantly and profitably for the traveller this can be done. there is no taste but may be interested, no capacity but can be matched, no country but can be made tributary to our own. the historian, the linguist, the farmer, the economist, the musician, the statesman, and the man of science can equally augment their pleasure and make it minister to ireland. is a man curious upon our language? he can (not unread in neilson, nor unaccompanied by o'reilly's dictionary) trace how far the celtic words mixed in the classical french, or in the patois of bretagne or gascony, coincide with the irish; he can search in the mountains of north spain, whether in proper names or country words there be any analogy to the gaelic of the opposite coast of ireland. the proper names are the most permanent, and if there be any truth in sir william betham's theories, the names of many a hill and stream in tuscany, north africa, and syria ought to be traceable to an irish root. nor need this language-search be limited to the south. beginning at the isle of man, up by cumberland (the kingdom of strath clyde), through scotland, denmark, norway, to ireland, the constant intercourse in trade and war with ireland, and in many instances the early occupation by a celtic race, must have left indelible marks in the local names, if not the traditions, of the country. to the tourist in france we particularly recommend a close study of the _history of the gauls_, by amadeus thierry. the student of our ecclesiastical history, whether he hold with dr. smiles that the irish church was independent, or with dr. miley, that it paid allegiance to rome, may delight in following the tracks of the irish saints, from iona of the culdees to luxieu and boia (founded by columbanus), and st. gall, founded by an irishman of that name. rumold can be heard of in mechlin, albhuin in saxony, kilian in bavaria, fursey in peronne, and in far tarentum the traveller will find more than one trace of the reformer of that city--the irishman, st. cathaldus. we cannot suppose that any man will stray from stackallen, or maynooth at least, without keeping this purpose in mind, nor would it misbecome a divine from that trinity college of which ussher was a first fellow. our military history could also receive much illustration from irish travellers going with some previous knowledge and studying the traditions and ground, and using the libraries in the neighbourhood of those places where irishmen fought. not to go back to the irish who (if we believe o'halloran) stormed the roman capital as the allies of brennus of gaul, nor insisting upon too minute a search for that alpine valley where, says macgeoghegan, they still have a tradition of dathy's death by lightning, there are plenty of places worth investigating in connection with irish military history. in scotland, for example, 'twere worth while tracking the march of alaster macdomhnall and his , antrim men from their first landing at ardnamurchan through tippermiur, aberdeen, fivy, inverlochy, and aulderne, to kilsyth--victories, won by irish soldiers and chiefs, given to them by tradition, as even scott admits, though he tries to displace its value for montrose's sake, and given to them by the highest cotemporary authorities--such as the ormond papers. then there is the irish brigade. from almanza to fontenoy, from ramillies to cremona, we have the names of their achievements, but the register of them is in the libraries and war offices and private papers of france, and spain, and austria, and savoy. a set of visits to irish battle-fields abroad, illustrated from the manuscripts of paris, vienna, and madrid, would be a welcomer book than the reiterated assurances that the rhone was rapid, the alps high, and florence rich in sculpture, wherewith we have been dinned. we have no lives of our most illustrious irish generals in foreign services--marshal brown, the lacys, montgomery of donegal, the rival of washington; and yet the materials must exist in the offices and libraries of austria, russia, and america. talking of libraries, there is one labour in particular we wish our countrymen to undertake. the constant emigration of the princes, nobles, and ecclesiastics of ireland, from the reformation downwards, scattered through the continent many of our choicest collections. the manuscripts from these have been dispersed by gift and sale among hundreds of foreign libraries. the escurial, vienna, rome, paris, and copenhagen are said to be particularly rich in them, and it cannot be doubted that in every considerable library (religious, official, or private) on the continent some mss. valuable to ireland would be found. in many cases these could be purchased, in some copied, in all listed. the last is the most practical and essential labour. it would check and guide our inquiries now, and would prepare for the better day, when we can negotiate the restoration of our old muniments from the governments of europe. a study of the monuments and museums throughout france, spain, italy, and scandinavia, in reference to the forts, tombs, altars, and weapons of ancient ireland, would make a summer pleasant and profitable. but we would not limit men to the study of the past. our agriculture is defective, and our tenures are abominable. it were well worth the attention of the travelling members of the irish agricultural society to bring home accurate written accounts of the tenures of land, the breeds of cattle, draining, rotation, crops, manures, and farm-houses, from belgium or norway, tuscany or prussia. our mineral resources and water-power are unused. a collection of models or drawings, or descriptions of the mining, quarrying, and hydraulic works of germany, england, or france, might be found most useful for the irish capitalist who made it, and for his country which so needs instruction. besides, even though many of these things be described already, yet how much more vivid and practical were the knowledge to be got from observation. our fine or useful arts are rude or decayed, and our industrial and general education very inferior. the schools and galleries, museums and educational systems of germany deserve the closest examination with reference to the knowledge and taste required in ireland, and the means of giving them. one second-rate book of such observations, with special reference to ireland, were worth many greater performances unapplied to the means and need of our country. ireland wants all these things. before this generation dies, it must have made ireland's rivers navigable, and its hundred harbours secure with beacon and pier, and thronged with seamen educated in naval schools, and familiar with every rig and every ocean. arigna must be pierced with shafts, and bonmahon flaming with smelting-houses. our bogs must have become turf-factories, where fuel will be husbanded, and prepared for the smelting-house. our coal must move a thousand engines, our rivers ten thousand wheels. our young artisans must be familiar with the arts of design and the natural sciences connected with their trade; and so of our farmers; and both should, beside, have that general information which refines and expands the minds--that knowledge of irish history and statistics that makes it national, and those accomplishments and sports which make leisure profitable and home joyous. our cities must be stately with sculpture, pictures, and buildings, and our fields glorious with peaceful abundance. but this is an utopia! is it? no; but the practicable object of those who know our resources! to seek it is the solemn, unavoidable duty of every irishman. whether, then, oh reader, you spend this or any coming season abroad or at home, do not forget for a day how much should be done for ireland. "the library of ireland." while the gaelic-speaking people of ireland were restricted to traditional legends, songs, and histories, a library was provided for those who used english by the genius and industry of men whose names have vanished--a fate common to them with the builder of the pyramids, the inventor of letters, and other benefactors of mankind. moore has given, in _captain rock_, an imperfect catalogue of this library. the scientific course seems to have been rather limited, as ovid's _art of_ (let us rather say essay on) _love_ was the only abstract work; but it contained biographies of _captain freney the robber_, and of _redmond o'hanlon the rapparee_--wherein, we fear, o'hanlon was made, by a partial pen, rather more like freney than history warrants; dramas such as the _battle of aughrim_, written apparently by some alsatian williamite; lyrics of love, unhoused save by the watch; imperial works, too, as _moll flanders_; and european literature--_don beliants, and the seven champions_. whether they were imported, or originally produced for the grooms of the dissolute gentry, may be discussed; but it seems certain that their benign influence spread, on one side, to the farmers' and shopkeepers' sons, and, on the other, to the cadets of the great families--and were, in short, the classics of tipsy ireland. the deadly progress of temperance, politics, and democracy has sent them below their original market, and in ten years the collector will pay a guinea apiece for them. during the emancipation struggle this indecent trash shrunk up, and a totally different literature circulated. the orange party regaled themselves chiefly with theology, but the rest of the country (still excepting the classes sheltered by their gaelic tongue) formed a literature more human, and quite as serious. there occasionally is great vigour in the biographies of lord edward, robert emmet, and other popular heroes chronicled at that time; but the long interview of emmet with sarah curran, the night before his execution, is a fair specimen of the accuracy of these works. the songs were intense enough, occasionally controversial, commonly polemical, always extravagant; the granu wails and shan-van-vochts of the catholic agitation cannot be too soon obsolete. the famous waterford song:-- "o'connell's come to town, and he'll put the orange down, and by the heavenly g---- he'll wear the crown, says the shan van vocht!" is characteristic of the zeal, discretion, and style of these once powerful lyrics. a history of the authorship of these biographies and songs would be interesting, and is perhaps still possible. the reprint in the series of hugh o'reilly's irish history--albeit, a mass of popular untruth was put at the end of it--shows as if some more considerate mind had begun to influence these publications. they, too, are fast vanishing, and will yet be sought to illustrate their times. in the first class we have described there was nothing to redeem their stupid indecency and ruffianism; in the latter, however one may grieve at their bigotry, and dislike their atrocious style, there were purity, warmth, and a high purpose. the "useful knowledge society" period arrived in britain, and flooded that island with cheap tracts on algebra and geometry, chemistry, theology, and physiology. penny magazines told every man how his stockings were wove, how many drunkards were taken up per hour in southwark, how the geese were plucked from which the author got his pens, how many pounds weight of lead (with the analysis thereof, and an account of the cornish mines by way of parenthesis) were in the types for each page, and the nature of the rags (so many per cent. beggars, so many authors, so many shoe-boys) from which the paper of the all-important, man and money-saving penny magazine was made. on its being suggested that man was more than a statistician, or a dabbler in mathematics, a _moral_ series (warranted benthamite) was issued to teach people how they should converse at meals--how to choose their wives, masters, and servants by phrenological developments, and how to live happily, like "mr. hard-and-comfortable," the yellow quaker. unluckily for us, there was no great popular passion in ireland at the time, and our communication with england had been greatly increased by steamers and railways, by the whig alliance, by democratic sympathy, and by the transference of our political capital to westminster. tracts, periodicals, and the whole horde of benthamy rushed in. without manufactures, without trade, without comfort to palliate such degradation, we were proclaimed converts to utilitarianism. the irish press thought itself imperial, because it reflected that of london--nationality was called a vulgar superstition, and a general european trades' union, to be followed by a universal republic, became the final aspirations of "all enlightened men." at the same time the national schools were spreading the elements of science and the means of study through the poorer classes, and their books were merely intellectual. between all these influences ireland promised to become a farm for lancashire, with the wisdom and moral rank of that district, without its wealth, when there came a deliverer--the repeal agitation. its strain gradually broke the whig alliance and the chartist sympathy. westminster ceased to be the city towards which the irish bowed and made pilgrimage. an organisation, centring in dublin, connected the people; and an oratory full of gaelic passion and popular idiom galvanised them. thus there has been, from --when the repeal agitation became serious--an incessant progress in literature and nationality. a press, irish in subjects, style, and purpose, has been formed--a national poetry has grown up--the national schools have prepared their students for the more earnest study of national politics and history--the classes most hostile to the agitation are converts to its passions; and when lord heytesbury recently expressed his wonder at finding "irish prejudices" in the most cultivated body in ireland, he only bore witness to an aristocratic nationality of which he could have found countless proofs beside. yet the power of british utilitarian literature continues. the wealthy classes are slowly getting an admirable and a costly national literature from petrie, and o'donovan, and ferguson, and lefanu, and the _university magazine_. the poorer are left to the newspaper and the meeting, and an occasional serial of very moderate merits. that class, now becoming the rulers of ireland, who have taste for the higher studies, but whose means are small, have only a few scattered works within their reach, and some of them, not content to use these exclusively, are driven to foreign studies and exposed to alien influence. to give to the country a national library, exact enough for the wisest, high enough for the purest, and cheap enough for all readers, appears the object of "the library of ireland." look at the subjects--_a history of the volunteers_, memoirs of hugh o'neill, of tone, of owen roe, of grattan, collections of irish ballads and songs, and so forth. it would take one a month, with the use of all the libraries of dublin, to get the history of the volunteers. in wilson's so-called history you will get a number of addresses and pages of irrelevant declamation for eight or ten shillings. try further, and you must penetrate through the manuscript catalogues of trinity college and the queen's inns (the last a wilderness) to find the pamphlets and newspapers containing what you want; yet the history of the volunteers is one interesting to every class, and equally popular in every province. hugh o'neill--he found himself an english tributary, his clan beaten, his country despairing. he organised his clan into an army, defeated by arms and policy the best generals and statesmen of elizabeth, and gave ireland a pride and a hope which never deserted her since. yet the only written history of him lies in an irish ms. in the vatican, unprinted, untranslated, uncopied; and the irishman who would know his life must grope through moryson, and ware, and o'sullivan in unwilling libraries, and in books whose price would support a student for two winters. of tone and grattan--the wisest and most sublime of our last generation--there are lives, and valuable ones; but such as the rich only will buy, and the leisurely find time to read. the rebellion of --a mystery and a lie--is it not time to let every man look it in the face? the irish brigade--a marvellous reality to few, a proud phantom to most of us--shall we not all, rich and poor, learn in good truth how the berserk irish bore up in the winter streets of cremona, or the gorgeous brigade followed clare's flashing plumes right through the great column of fontenoy? irish ballads and songs--why (except that _spirit of the nation_ which we so audaciously put together), the popular ballads and songs are the faded finery of the west end, the foul parodies of st. giles's, the drunken rigmarole of the black helots--or, as they are touchingly classed in the streets, "sentimental, comic, and nigger songs." yet banim, and griffin, and furlong, lover and ferguson, drennan and callanan, have written ballads and songs as true to ireland as ever macneill's or conyngham's were to scotland; and firmly do we hope to see with every second lad in ireland a volume of honest, noble, irish ballads, as well thumbed as a lowland burns or a french beranger, and sweetly shall yet come to us from every milking-field and harvest-home songs not too proudly joined to the sweetest music in the world. this country of ours is no sand bank, thrown up by some recent caprice of earth. it is an ancient land, honoured in the archives of civilisation, traceable into antiquity by its piety, its valour, and its sufferings. every great european race has sent its stream to the river of irish mind. long wars, vast organisations, subtle codes, beacon crimes, leading virtues, and self-mighty men were here. if we live influenced by wind and sun and tree, and not by the passions and deeds of the past, we are a thriftless and a hopeless people. a chronology of ireland. there is much doubt as to who were the first inhabitants of ireland; but it is certain that the phoenicians had a great commerce with it. the firbolgs, a rude people, held ireland for a long period. they were subdued by the tuatha de danaan, a refined and noble race, which in its turn yielded its supremacy to the arms of the milesians. the dates during these centuries are not well ascertained. b.c. . dr. o'conor, the librarian of stowe, fixes this as the most probable date of the milesian invasion. ---- ollamh fodhla institutes the great feis, or triennial convention, at tara. ---- thirty-two monarchs are said to have reigned between this sovereign and kimbaoth, who built the palace of emania. a.d. . reformation of the bardic or literary order, by conquovar, king of ulster. . the old population successfully revolt against the milesians, and place one of their own race upon the throne. . re-establishment of the milesian sway. . king feidlim, the legislator, establishes the laws of eric. . from con of the hundred battles descended the chieftains who supplied albany, the modern scotland, with her first scottish rulers, by establishing, about the middle of the third century, the kingdom of dalriada in argyleshire. . the palace of emania destroyed during a civil war. . the birth of st. patrick. . nial of the nine hostages invades britain. . his mission to ireland. . dathi, the last of the pagan monarchs of ireland, succeeded nial, and was killed while on one of his military expeditions, at the foot of the alps, by lightning. . march --death of st. patrick. . the last triennial council held at tara. . first invasion of the danes. . april , good friday--defeat of the danes at clontarf by brian boroihme. . synod of kells. supremacy of the church of rome acknowledged. . pope adrian's bull granting ireland to henry ii. . may--first landing of the normans. . october --henry ii. arrives in ireland. . a council, called by some a parliament, held by henry ii. at lismore. . prince john is sent over by his father as lord of ireland, accompanied by his tutor, giraldus cambrensis. . king john, at the head of a military force, arrives in ireland. . henry iii. grants magna charta to ireland. . ireland granted, under certain conditions, by henry iii. to his son, prince edward. . some of the irish petition edward i. for an extension of english laws and usages to them. . a parliament held at kilkenny by sir john wogan, lord justice. . a parliament held at kilkenny by sir john wogan. its enactments on record in bolton's irish statutes. . edward bruce lands with , men at larne in may, invited by the irish. crowned near dundalk. . defeat and death of bruce at faghard, near dundalk. . parliament assembled at kilkenny by lionel, duke of clarence, at which the celebrated anti-irish statute was passed prohibiting adoption of irish costume or customs, intermarriage with the irish, etc., under very severe penalties, to the anglo-irish of the pale. . the first act ever passed against absentees. . richard ii. lands with an army at waterford. . richard ii.'s second expedition to ireland. . a college founded at youghal by the earl of desmond. another at drogheda. . institution of the brotherhood of st. george for the protection of the pale. . nov.--the parliament assembled at drogheda passed poyning's law. . first step of the reformation in ireland. . nearly total destruction of the kildare geraldines. henry viii.'s supremacy enacted by statute. . act passed for the suppression of religious houses. . act passed declaring henry viii. _king_ of ireland. . the last earl of desmond proclaimed a traitor. . the earl of desmond assassinated. . april --attainder of desmond and his followers. forfeiture of his estate-- , irish acres. elizabeth institutes the planting system. . the dublin university founded. . aodh o'neill's victory at blackwater, and death of marshal bagnal. . march --submission of o'neill (tyrone) to mountjoy. . flight of the northern earls, tyrone and tyrconnell. consequent seizure by the crown of the six entire counties of cavan, fermanagh, armagh, derry, tyrone, and tyrconnel (now donegal), amounting in the whole to about , irish acres. . may --sept.--sir cathair o'dogherty's rising. . may --after the creation of fourteen peers and forty new boroughs, a parliament is assembled to support the new _plantation_ of ulster by the attainder and outlawry of the gentlemen of that province. . commission for inquiring into defective titles. . lord wentworth's oppressive proceedings to find a title in the crown to the province of connaught. . oct. --the breaking out of the celebrated irish insurrection. . the confederate catholics form their general assembly and supreme council at kilkenny--"pro deo, pro rege, _et patria, hibernia, unanimes_," their motto. . june --monroe totally defeated by owen roe o'neill at benburb, near armagh. . aug. --oliver cromwell arrives in dublin. ---- sept. , , .--siege, storming, and massacre of drogheda. ---- oct. --siege and massacre of wexford. ---- nov. --death of owen roe o'neill at cloch-uachdar castle, co. cavan. . may --cromwell embarks for england. . sept. --the irish war proclaimed ended by the english parliament.--act of grace, ordering the irish catholics to transport themselves, on pain of death, into connaught before st of march, . . may , . acts of settlement and explanation. , , acres confiscated and distributed under them. . march --james ii. landed at kinsale. ---- may } the irish parliament summoned by him: met at the ---- july } inns of court. . june --william iii. landed at carrickfergus bay. ---- july --battle of the boyne. ---- aug --the first siege of limerick under william iii. raised by sarsfield. . june --athlone taken after a gallant defence. . july --battle of aughrim. ---- oct. --capitulation and treaty of limerick. . april --the articles agreed upon by the treaty confirmed by william iii. ---- nov. --lord sydney's protest against the claim of the irish house of commons to the right of "preparing heads of bills for raising money"--the beginning of the struggle between the protestant ascendency and the english government, which bore national fruit in , but which was crushed in . . august--parliament violated the treaty of limerick-- william iii., c. --prohibits catholic education at home or abroad. william iii., c. --disarms papists. . william iii., c. --banishes popish archbishops, bishops, vicars-general, and all regular clergy, on pain of death. william iii., c. --an act "to confirm the treaty of limerick," which directly and grossly violates its letter and spirit. it is fit to remember that in the irish house of lords, from which catholics were excluded, seven spiritual and five temporal peers protested against this infamous legislation. . the and william iii., c. --an act aimed at the irish woollen manufacture. molyneux published his famous _case of ireland being bound by acts of parliament passed in england_. this book, by order of the english house of commons, was burned by the hangman. . march --the "act to prevent the further growth of popery," one of the most noted links in the penal chain. . october --representation of the irish house of lords against appeals to england. . geo. i.--act passed by the english legislature to secure the dependency of ireland. ---- swift's first irish pamphlet--"a proposal for the universal use of irish manufactures." prosecuted by government. . wood's patent to coin half-pence for ireland, and swift's successful opposition to the scheme by the "letters of m. b. drapier." the first time all irish sects and parties were unanimous upon national grounds. . geo. ii., c. , s. .--the act disfranchising roman catholics. . the tithe of agistment got rid of by the irish gentry, and the chief burden of the tithe thereby thrown on the farmers and peasantry. . lucas rises into notice in the dublin corporation. . april --battle of fontenoy. . dr. lucas is obliged to leave ireland. . dec. --the house of commons asserts its control successfully over the surplus revenue, in opposition to government. . the first public effort by mr. o'connor and dr. curry to inspire the catholics with the spirit of freedom. they succeed with the mercantile body, but are opposed by many of the gentry and clergy. . march and april--mr. wyse and dr. curry revive the scheme of an association to manage catholic affairs. . dr. lucas returned as representative of dublin to the first parliament of george iii. . establishment of the _freeman's journal_ by dr. lucas--the first independent irish newspaper. . the duration of parliament limited to eight years. . first relaxation of the penal code, catholics allowed long tenures of land, etc. ---- the volunteers first formed. flood the foremost popular leader. . the achievement of free trade [_i.e._, ireland's right to trade with the colonies, etc.]. . ireland's legislative independence won. grattan's prime. . orde's commercial propositions. . debates upon the regency question. . the formation of the society of united irishmen at belfast. theobald wolfe tone its founder. .} the franchise restored to the roman catholics; the bar opened .} to them, etc. . sept. --first orange lodge formed. . dec. --the remnant of the french expedition arrives in bantry bay without general hoche, the commander. . may --breaking out of the insurrection. ---- june --battle of vinegar hill. ---- august --general humbert lands with a small force at killala. ---- dec. --meeting of the bar to oppose the projected union. saurin moves the resolution, which is carried. . jan. --the union proposed. ---- june --parliament prorogued, government having been defeated by small majorities. . feb. --the house of lords divided, for and against the union. ---- feb. --the house of commons divided, for, against the union. ---- march --on this day, the first of the following january was fixed in the commons for the commencement of the union. . robert emmet's insurrection and execution. . great repeal meeting in dublin. . george iv. in ireland. . catholic association formed. . act passed to put down the catholic association. . o'connell's election for clare. . april --emancipation granted. . education board formed. . coercion bill passed by the whigs. . may--parliament rejects repeal motion. . poor law. temperance movement. . corporation reform. repeal association formed by o'connell. . october --establishment of the _nation_. . monster meetings. prosecutions. william smith o'brien joins the repeal association. . verdict against, and imprisonment of repeal leaders, th february, and th may. liberation, th september. the future is ours--for good, if we are persevering, intelligent, and brave; for ill, if we quarrel, slumber, or shrink. iii. political articles. no redress--no inquiry. the british parliament has refused to redress our wrongs, or even to inquire into them. for five long nights were they compelled to listen to arguments, facts, and principles proving that we were sorely oppressed. they did not deny the facts--they did not refute the reasoning--they did not undermine the principles--but they would not try to right us. "we inherit the right of hatred for six centuries of oppression; what will you do to prove your repentance, and propitiate our revenge?"--and the answer is, "that's an old story, we wish to hear no more of it." legislature of britain, you shall hear more of it! the growing race of irishmen are the first generation of freemen which ireland nursed these three centuries. the national schools may teach them only the dry elements of knowledge adulterated with anglicism, and trinity college may teach them bigotry, along with graceful lore and strong science; but there are other schools at work. there is a national art, and there is an irish literature growing up. day after day the choice of the young men discover that genius needs a country to honour and be loved by. the irish press is beginning to teach the people to know themselves and their history; to know other nations, and to feel the rights and duties of citizens. the agitation, whose surges sweep through every nook of the island, converts all that the people learn to national uses; nothing is lost, nothing is adverse; neutrality is help, and all power is converted into power for ireland. ireland is changing the loose tradition of her wrongs into history and ballad; and though justice, repentance, or retribution may make her cease to need vengeance, she will immortally remember her bondage, her struggles, her glories, and her disasters. till her suffering ceases that remembrance will rouse her passions and nerve her arm. may she not forgive till she is no longer oppressed; and when she forgives, may she never forget! why need we repeat the tale of present wretchedness? seven millions and a half of us are presbyterians and catholics, and our whole ecclesiastical funds go to the gorgeous support of the clergy of the remaining , , who are episcopalians. where else on _earth_ does a similar injury and dishonour exist? nowhere; 'twas confessed it existed nowhere. would it weaken the empire to abolish this? confessedly not, but would give it some chance of holding together. would it injure protestantism? you say not. idle wealth is fatal to a church, and supremacy bears out every proud and generous convert. why is it maintained? the answer is directly given--"england (that is, the english aristocracy) is bigoted," and no ministry dare give you redress. these are the very words of captain rous, the tory member for westminster, and the whole house assented to the fact. if you cannot redress--if you will not go into inquiry, lest this redress, so needed by us, should be fatal to your selfish power, then loose your hold of us, and we will redress ourselves; and we will do so with less injury to any class than you possibly could, for a free nation may be generous--a struggling one will not and ought not to be so. we are most dishonestly taxed for _your_ debts; the fact was not denied--an ominous silence declared that not a halfpenny of that mighty mortgage would be taken off our shoulders. you raise five millions a year from us, and you spend it on english commissioners, english dockyards, english museums, english ambition, and english pleasures. with an enormous taxation, our public offices have been removed to london, and you threaten to remove our courts of justice, and our lord lieutenancy, the poor trapping of old nationhood. we have no arsenals, no public employment here; our literary, scientific, and charitable institutions, so bountifully endowed by a native legislature, you have forced away, till, out of that enormous surplus revenue raised here, not £ , a year comes back for such purposes, while you have heaped hundred upon hundred thousand into the lap of every english institution. for national education you dribble out £ , a year--not enough for our smallest province. will you redress these things? no, but you boast of your liberality in giving us anything. "oh, but you are not overtaxed," says peel; "see, your post-office produces nothing to the revenue." ay, sir, our post-office, which levies the same rates as the english post-office, produces nothing; ireland is too poor to make even a penny-postage pay its own cost. no stronger mark of a stagnant trade could be adduced. "and then we lowered your spirit duty." yes you did, because it brought in less than the lower duty. what single tax did you take off, except when it had been raised so high, or the country had declined so low, that it ceased to be productive? you increased our taxation up to the end of the war two and a half times more rapidly than you did your own, and you diminished our taxation after the war thirty times less rapidly. you have a fleet of steamers now--you had none in , says some pattern of english senators, whose constituents are bound to subscribe a few school-books for him if they mean to continue him as their delegate. and my lord eliot says our exports and imports have increased. we wish your lordship would have separate accounts kept that we might know how much. but they _have_ increased--ay, they have; and they are provisions. and our population has increased: and when we had one-half the number of people to feed we sent out a tenth of the provisions we send away now. this is ruin, not prosperity. we had weavers, iron-workers, glass-makers, and fifty other flourishing trades. they sold their goods to irishmen in exchange for beef and mutton, and bread, and bacon, and potatoes. the irish provisions were not exported--they were eaten in ireland. they are exported now--for irish artisans, without work, must live on the refuse of the soil, and irish peasants must eat lumpers or starve. part of the exports go to buy rags and farming tools, which once went for clothes and all other goods to irish operatives, and the rest goes to raise money to pay absentee rents and imperial taxes. will you tax our absentees? will you employ our artisans? will you abate your taxes, or spend them among us? no; you refuse redress--you refuse inquiry. your conquests and confiscations have given us land tenures alien to the country and deadly to the peasant. will you interfere in property to save him, as you interfered to oppress him? you hint that you might inquire, but you only offered redress in an arms' bill--to prostrate the poor man, to violate the sanctity of his home, to brand him, and leave him at the mercy of his local tyrant. will you equalise the franchise, and admit us, in proportion to our numbers, into your senate, and let us try there for redress? you may inquire, perhaps, some other time; if much pressed, you may consider some increase of the franchise--you decline to open the representation. and if england will do none of these things, will she allow us, for good or ill, to govern ourselves, and see if we cannot redress our own griefs? "no, never, never," she says, "though all ireland cried for it--never! her fields shall be manured with the shattered limbs of her sons, and her hearths quenched in their blood; but never, while england has a ship or a soldier, shall ireland be free." and this is your answer? we shall see--we shall see! and now, englishmen, listen to us! though you were to-morrow to give us the best tenures on earth--though you were to equalise presbyterian, catholic, and episcopalian--though you were to give us the amplest representation in your senate--though you were to restore our absentees, disencumber us of your debt, and redress every one of our fiscal wrongs--and though, in addition to all this, you plundered the treasuries of the world to lay gold at our feet, and exhausted the resources of your genius to do us worship and honour--still we tell you--we tell you, in the names of liberty and country--we tell you, in the name of enthusiastic hearts, thoughtful souls, and fearless spirits--we tell you, by the past, the present and the future, we would spurn your gifts, if the condition were that ireland should remain a province. we tell you, and all whom it may concern, come what may--bribery or deceit, justice, policy, or war--we tell you, in the name of ireland, that ireland shall be a nation! the right road. by the people the people must be righted. disunion, and sloth, and meanness enslaved them. combination, calm pride, and ceaseless labour must set them loose. let them not trust to the blunders of their enemies, or the miracles of their chiefs--trust nothing, men of ireland, but the deep resolve of your own hearts. as well might you leave the fairies to plough your land or the idle winds to sow it, as sit down and wait for freedom. you are on the right road. the repeal year is over--what then?--call next year the repeal year if you have a fancy for names; and if that, too, searches your fetter-sores with its december blast, work the next year, and the next, and the next. cease not till all is done. if you sleep, now that you have climbed so far, you may never wake again. abandon or nod over your task, and the foreign minister will treat you as mad, and tie you down, or as idiotic, and give you sugar plums and stripes. every man with a spark of pride and manhood would leave you to bear alone the scorn of the world, and from father to son you would live a race of ragged serfs till god in his mercy should destroy the people and the soil. you are on the right road. you don't want to go to war. your greatest leader objects, on principle, to all war for liberty. all your friends, even those who think liberty well worth a sea of blood, agree with him that it is neither needful nor politic for you to embark in a war with your oppressor. it is not that they doubt your courage nor resources--it is not that they distrust your allies--but it is that they _know_ you can succeed without a single skirmish, and therefore he who harms person or property in seeking repeal is criminal to his country. but if they preach peace loudly, they preach perseverance with still greater emphasis. it is the universal creed of all liberals, that _anything_ were better than retreat. one of the most moderate of the whigs said to us yesterday: "i would rather walk at o'connell's funeral than witness his submission." and he said well. death is no evil, and dying is but a moment's pang. there is no greater sign of a pampered and brutish spirit in a man than to wince at the foot-sound of death. death is the refuge of the wronged, the opiate of the restless, the mother's or the lover's breast to the bruised and disappointed; it is the sure retreat of the persecuted, and the temple-gate of the loving, and pious, and brave. when all else leaves us, it is faithful. but where are we wandering to pluck garlands from the tomb? retreat would bring us the woes of war, without its chances or its pride. the enemy, elate at our discomfiture, would press upon our rear. the landlord would use every privilege till he had reduced his farms to insurgentless pastures. the minister would rush in and tear away the last root of nationality. the peasant, finding his long-promised hope of freedom and security by moral means gone, and left unled to his own impulses, would league with his neighbour serfs, and ruin others, in the vain hope of redressing himself. the day would be dark with tyranny, and the night red with vengeance. the military triumph of the rack-renter or the whiteboy would be the happiest issue of the strife. if the people ought neither spring into war, nor fall through confusion into a worse slavery, what remains? perseverance. they are on the right road, and should walk on in it patiently, thoughtfully, and without looking back. the repeal organisation enables the people to act together. it is the bark of the tree, guarding it and binding it. it is the cause of our unanimity; for where else has a party, so large as the irish repealers, worked without internal squabbles? it is the secret of our discipline. how else, but by the instant action of the association on the whole mass of the people, through the repeal press and the repeal wardens, could our huge meetings have been assembled or been brought together?--how else could they have been separated in quiet?--how else could the people have been induced to continue their subscriptions month after month and year after year? an ignorant or unorganised people would soon have tired of the constant subscriptions and meetings, and have broken into disorder or sunk into apathy. he is a long-sighted and sober-minded man that lays out money on a complex yet safe speculation, or lays it by for an evil day. that is a people having political wisdom which denies itself some present indulgence for a future good. it had been pleasanter, for some at least of the people, to have spent in eating or clothing the shilling they sent to the repeal association, just as six years ago they found it pleasanter to spend the shilling, or the penny, or the pound, on the whiskey shop. but the same self-denying and far-seeing resolve which enabled them to resign drink for food, and books, and clothing, induced them to postpone some of these solid comforts to attend meetings, and to give money, in order to win, at some future time, fixed holdings, trade, strength, and liberty. the people, if they would achieve their aim, must continue their exertions. it will not do to say, wait till the trials are over. the rate of the trials will not determine repeal. the conviction, imprisonment, or death of their present leaders will not crush it. there are those ready to fill the vacancies in the column, and to die too. the rudest and the humblest in the land would grow into an inspired hero were leader after leader to advance and fall. victory would be the religion of the country, and by one means or other it would triumph. a stronger spirit than his who died issues from the martyr's coffin. nor would the success of the accused carry repeal. it would embarrass the minister--it would gain time--it would give us another chance for peaceful justice. but the queen's bench is not the imperial parliament, nor is the traversers' plea of "not guilty" a bill to overturn the union, and construct irish independence on its ruins. to win by peace they must use all the resources of peace, as they have done hitherto. is there any parish wherein there are no repeal wardens active every week in collecting money, distributing cards, tracts, and newspapers? let that parish meet to-morrow or to-morrow week, appoint _active_ wardens, send up its subscriptions, and get down its cards, papers, and tracts, week after week, till the year goes round or till repeal is carried. is there any town or district which has not a temperance band and reading-room? if there be, let that town or district meet at once, and subscribe for instruments, music, and a teacher; let the members meet, and read, and discuss, and qualify themselves by union, study, and political information to act as citizens, whether their duty lead them to the public assembly, the hustings, or the hill-side. by acting thus, and not by listening for news about trials, the people have advanced from mouldering slaves into a threatening and united people; continuing to act thus, they will become a triumphant nation, spite of fortified barracks, wellington, peel, and england. they are in the right road; let them walk on in it. foreign policy and foreign information. our history contains reasons for our extending the foreign policy of ireland. this we tried to develop some months back. the partial successes of the wars of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, from hugh o'neill to james the second, were in no slight degree owing to the arms and auxiliary troops of spain and france. our yet more complete triumphs in the political conflicts of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries owed still more to our foreign connections--witness the influence of the american war on the creation of the volunteers, the effect of the battle of jemappes, and of the french fraternity of ulster on the toleration act of , and how much the presence of american money, and the fear of french interference, hastened the emancipation act of . with reference to this last period, we may state that such an effect had the articles published in _l'etoile_ on ireland that canning wrote a remonstrance to m. de villele, asking him "was it intended that the war of pens should bring on one of swords." the remonstrance was unavailing--the french sympathy for ireland increased, and other offices than newspaper offices began to brush up their information on ireland. but arms yielded to the gown, and the maps and statistics of ireland never left the war office of france. but our own history is not the only advocate for a foreign policy for ireland. foreign alliances have ever stood among the pillars of national power, along with virtue, wise laws, settled customs, military organisations, and naval position. advice, countenance, direct help, are secured by old and generous alliances. thus the alliance of prussia carried england through the wars of the eighteenth century, the alliance of france rescued the wavering fortunes of america, the alliance of austria maintains turkey against russia, and so in a thousand instances beside. a people known and regarded abroad will be more dignified, more consistent, and more proud in all its acts. fame is to national manners little less than virtue to national morals. a nation with a high and notorious character to sustain will be more stately and firm than if it lived in obscurity. each citizen feels that the national name which he bears is a pledge for his honour. the soldier's uniform much less surely checks the display of his vices, and an army's standard less certainly excites its valour than the name of an illustrious country stimulates its sons to greatness and nobility. the _prestige_ of rome's greatness operated even more on the souls of her citizens than on the hearts of her friends and foes. again, it is peculiarly needful for _ireland_ to have a foreign policy. intimacy with the great powers will guard us from english interference. many of the minor german states were too deficient in numbers, boundaries, and wealth to have outstood the despotic ages of europe but for those foreign alliances, which, whether resting on friendship or a desire to preserve the balance of power, secured them against their rapacious neighbours. and now time has given its sanction to their continuance, and the progress of localisation guarantees their future safety. when ireland is a nation she will not, with her vast population and her military character, require such alliances as a _security_ against an english _re-conquest_; but they will be useful in banishing any _dreams of invasion_ which might _otherwise_ haunt the brain of our old enemy. but england is a pedagogue as well as a gaoler to us. her prison discipline requires the helotism of mind. she shuts us up, like another caspar hauser, in a dark dungeon, and tells us what she likes of herself and of the rest of the world. and this renders foreign information most desirable for us. she calls france base, impious, poor, and rapacious. she lies. france has been the centre of european mind for centuries. france was the first of the large states to sweep away the feudal despotism. france has a small debt and an immense army; while england has a vast debt and scanty forces. france has five millions of kindly, merry, well-fed yeomen. england swarms with dark and withered artisans. every seventh person you meet in france is a landowner in fee, subject to moderate taxation. taxes and tenancies-at-will have cleared out the yeomanry of england. france has a literature surpassing england's modern literature. france is an apostle of liberty--england the turnkey of the world. france is the old friend, england, the old foe, of ireland. from one we may judge all. england has defamed _all other countries_ in order to make us and her other slaves content in our fetters. england's eulogies on herself are as false and extravagant as her calumnies on all other states. she represents her constitution as the perfection of human wisdom; while in reality it is based on conquest, shaken by revolution, and only qualified by disorder. her boasted tenures are the relics of a half-abolished serfdom, wherein the cultivator was nothing, and the aristocrat everything, and in which a primogeniture extending from the king to the gentleman _often_ placed idiocy on the throne, and tyranny in the senate, and _always_ produced disunion in families, monopoly in land, and peculation throughout every branch of the public service. her laws are complicated, and their administration costly beyond any others ever known. her motley and tyrannous flag she proclaims the first that floats, and her tottering and cruel empire the needful and sufficient guardian of our liberties. by cultivating foreign relations, and growing intimate with foreign states of society, we will hear a free and just criticism on england's constitution and social state. we will have a still better and fairer commentary in the condition and civil structure of other countries. we will see _small_ free states--norway, sweden, holland, switzerland, and portugal--maintaining their homes free, and bearing their flags in triumph for long ages. we will learn from themselves how they kept their freedom afloat amid the perils of centuries. we will salute them as brethren subject to common dangers, and interested in one policy--localisation of power. the catholic will see the protestant states of prussia, holland, saxony, and america; and the protestant will see the catholic states of belgium, bavaria, and france, all granting full liberty of conscience--leaving every creed to settle its tenets with its conscience, and dealing, _as states_, only with citizens, not sects. he who fancies some intrinsic objection to our nationality to lie in the co-existence of two languages, three or four great sects, and a dozen different races in ireland, will learn that in hungary, switzerland, belgium, and america, different languages, creeds, and races flourish kindly side by side, and he will seek in english intrigues the real well of the bitter woes of ireland. germany, france, and america teach us that english economics are not fit for a nation beginning to establish a trade, though they may be for an old and plethoric trader; and therefore that english and irish trading interests are directly opposed. nor can our foreign trade but be served by foreign connections. the land tenures of france, norway, and prussia are the reverse of england's. they resemble our own old tenures; they better suit our character and our wants than the loose holdings and servile wages system of modern england. these, and a host of lessons more, will we learn if we study the books, laws, and manners, and cultivate an intimacy with the citizens of foreign states. we will thus obtain countenance, sympathy, and help in time of need, and honour and friendship in time of strength; and thus, too, we will learn toleration towards each other's creed, distrust in our common enemy, and confidence in liberty and nationality. till ireland has a foreign policy, and a knowledge of foreign states, england will have an advantage over us in both military and moral ways. we will be without those aids on which even the largest nations have at times to depend; and we will be liable to the advances of england's treacherous and deceptive policy. let us, then, return the ready grasp of america, and the warm sympathy of france, and of every other country that offers us its hand and heart. let us cultivate a foreign policy and foreign information as useful helps in that national existence which is before us, though its happiness and glory depend, in the first instance, on "ourselves alone." ireland has a glorious future, if she be worthy of it. we must believe and act up to the lessons taught by reason and history, that england is our interested and implacable enemy--a tyrant to her dependants--a calumniator of her neighbours, and both the despot and defamer of ireland for near seven centuries. mutual respect for conscience, an avoidance of polemics, concession to each other, defiance to the foe, and the extension of our foreign relations, are our duty, and should be our endeavour. vigour and policy within and without, great men to lead, educated men to organise, brave men to follow--these are the means of liberation--these are elements of nationality. moral force. there are two ways of success for the irish--arms and persuasion. they have chosen the latter. they have resolved to win their rights by moral force. for this end they have confederated their names, their moneys, their thoughts, and their resolves. for this they meet, organise, and subscribe. for this they learn history, and forget quarrels; and for this they study their resources, and how to increase them. for moral success internal union is essential. ireland, through all its sects and classes, must demand repeal before the english minister will be left without a fair reason to resist it, and not till then we be in a state to coerce his submission. conciliation of all sects, classes, and parties who oppose us, or who still hesitate, is _essential_ to moral force. for if, instead of leading a man to your opinions by substantial kindness, by zealous love, and by candid and wise teaching, you insult his tastes and his prejudices, and force him either to adopt your cause or to resist it--if, instead of slow persuasion, your weapons are bullying and intolerance, then your profession of moral force is a lie, and a lie which deceives no one, and your attacks will be promptly resisted by every man of spirit. the committee of the repeal association have of late begun to attend to the registries. the majority of irish electors belong to the middle class; and if all of that class who could register and vote did register and vote, it would be out of the landlords' power to coerce them. the landlords have awoken to a sense of their danger. they begin to know that if once the quiet patriots of this country conclude that reform of the landlords is hopeless, the only barrier between them and their tenants will sink, and they will sink too. there will be less landlordism next election--at least we warn the landlords that there _must_ be less. if, then, the majority of members chosen by the middle class oppose domestic legislation, the middle class is suspected of not being truly national--the sincerity of the people is made doubtful--an impediment is opposed to repeal, which the repeal association properly strive to upset. therefore do they and we urge the repealers to serve notices diligently, accurately, and at once. therefore do they and we prompt them to attend at the sessions, and boldly claim their rights as citizens contributing to the state, and entitled to a vote in electing its managers; and therefore do they and we advise each constituency to consider well whether they have or can procure a representative whose purity of life, undoubted honesty, knowledge of politics, and devoted zeal to secure domestic government fit him to legislate in st. stephen's, or to agitate in the corn exchange, or wherever else nationality may have a temple. we say, the advocacy of a "domestic legislature," because _that_ is what ireland wants. we are a province, drained by foreign taxation and absentees, governed by a foreign legislature and executive. we seek to have _ireland_ governed by an irish senate and executive for herself, and by irishmen; and although a man shall add to this a claim for a share in the government of the _empire_, and of course a consent to give taxes and soldiers, therefore that (though to us it seems unwise) is not such a difference as should make us divide. he is a repealer of the union as decidedly as if he never called himself a federalist. such repealing federalists are messrs. crawford, wyse, john o'brien, caulfield, ross, o'malley, o'hagan, bishop kennedy, and numbers of others in and out of the association. in selecting or in agitating about members we must therefore never forget that a federalist is quite as likely to be national as a technical repealer, and that if his morals and ability be better than those of a _so-called_ repeal candidate, he is the better man. we have also classed morals, ability, and zeal as being quite as requisite as national opinions in a representative. if our members were a majority in the house, it might not be very moral, but at least it would have some show of excuse if we sent in a flock of pledged delegates to vote repeal, regardless of their powers or principles; though even then we might find it hard to get rid of the scoundrels after repeal was carried, and when ireland would need virtuous and unremitting wisdom to make her prosper. but now, when our whole members are not a sixth of the commons, and when the english whigs are as hostile to repeal as the english tories, and more hostile to it than the irish tories--now, it is plain we must get weight for our opinions by the ability and virtue of our members; and therefore we exhort the people, as they love purity, as they prize religion, as they are true to themselves, to ireland, and to liberty, to spurn from their hustings any man who comes there without purity and wisdom, though he took or kept a thousand repeal pledges. we want men who are not spendthrifts, drunkards, swindlers--we want honest men--men whom we would trust with our private money or our family's honour; and sooner than see faded aristocrats and brawling profligates shelter themselves from their honest debtors by a repeal membership, we would leave tories and whigs undisturbed in their seats, and strive to carry repeal by other measures. conciliation, virtue, and wisdom are our moral means of success. they must be used and sought on the hustings as well as in the conciliation hall. we must not prematurely, and at heaven knows what distance from an election, force a good and able man to accept a pledge or quarrel with us. pledges are extreme things, hardly constitutional, and highly imprudent in a well-governed country. nevertheless, they are sometimes needed, as are sharper remedies; and such need will exist here at the general election. no man must go in for any place where the popular will prevails unless he is a repealer or a federalist; and, what is _equally_ essential, an upright, unstained, and zealous man, who will work for ireland and do her credit. but it seems to us quite premature to insist on those pledges from honourable, proud, and patriotic men _now_, who will, in all likelihood, be with us before an election comes, provided they are treated with the respect and forbearance due to them whether they join us or not. these are some of the canons of moral force; and if, as we trust, ireland can succeed without cannon of another kind, it must be by using those we have here mustered. conciliation. the people of ireland have done well in naming the scene of their future counsels the conciliation hall. it intimates the cause of all our misery, and suggests the cure. prostrated by division, union is our hope. if irishmen were united, the repeal of the union would be instantly and quietly conceded. a parliament, at whose election mutual generosity would be in every heart and every act, would take the management of ireland. for oh! we ask our direst foe to say from the bottom of his heart, would not the people of ireland melt with joy and love to their protestant brethren if they united and conquered? and surely from such a soil noble crops would grow. no southern plain heavy with corn, and shining with fruit-clad hamlets, ever looked so warm and happy as would the soul of ireland, bursting out with all the generosity and beauty of a grateful people. we trust that the opening of the conciliation hall will be a signal to catholic and protestant to _try_ and agree. surely our protestant brethren cannot shut their eyes to the honour it would confer on them and us if we gave up old brawls and bitterness, and came together in love like christians, in feeling like countrymen, in policy like men having common interests. can they--ah! tell us, dear countrymen!--can you harden your hearts at the thought of looking on irishmen joined in commerce, agriculture, art, justice, government, wealth, and glory? fancy the aristocracy placed by just laws, or by wise concession, on terms of friendship with their tenants, securing to these tenants every farthing their industry entitled them to; living among them, promoting agriculture and education by example and instruction; sharing their joys, comforting their sorrows, and ready to stand at their head whenever their country called. think well on it. suppose it to exist in your own county, in your own barony and parish. dwell on this sight. see the life of such a landlord and of such farmers--so busy, so thoughtful, so happy! how the villages would ring with pleasure and trade, and the fields laugh with contented and cheered labour. imagine the poor supporting themselves on those waste lands which the home expenditure of our rents and taxes would reclaim, and the workhouse turned into an hospital, or a district college. education and art would prosper; every village, like italy, with its painter of repute. then indeed the men of all creeds would be competent by education to judge of doctrines; yet, influenced by that education, to see that god meant men to live, and love, and ennoble their souls; to be just, and to worship him, and not to consume themselves in rites, or theological contention; or if they did discuss, they would do so not as enemies, but inquirers after truth. the clergy of different creeds would be placed on an equality, and would hope to propagate their faith not by hard names or furious preaching, but by their dignity and wisdom, and by the marked goodness of their flocks. men might meet or part at church or chapel door without sneer or suspicion. from the christening of the child, till his neighbours, catholic and protestant, followed his grey-haired corpse to the tomb, he might live enjoying much, honoured much, and fearing nothing but his own carelessness or vice. this, 'twill be said, is a paradise. alas! no--there would still be individual crime and misfortune, national difficulties and popular errors. these are in the happiest and best countries. but the condition of many countries is as paradise to what we are. where else in europe is the peasant ragged, fed on roots, in a wigwam, without education? where else are the towns ruined, trade banished, the till, and the workshop, and the stomach of the artisan empty? where else is there an exportation of over one-third of the rents, and an absenteeism of the chief landlords? what other country pays four and a half million taxes to a foreign treasury, and has its offices removed or filled with foreigners? where else are the people told they are free and represented, yet only one in two hundred of them have the franchise? where, beside, do the majority support the clergy of the minority? in what other country are the majority excluded from high ranks in the university? in what place, beside, do landlords and agents extort such vast rents from an indigent race? where else are the tenants ever pulling, the owners ever driving, and both full of anger? and what country so fruitful and populous, so strong, so well marked and guarded by the sea, and with such an ancient name, was reduced to provincialism by bribery and treacherous force, and is denied all national government? and if the answer be, as it must, "nowhere is the like seen," then we say that union amongst irishmen would make this country comparatively a paradise. for union would peacefully achieve independence; would enable us to settle the landlord and tenant question; would produce religious equality, as the first act of independence; would restore the absentees by the first of our taxes; would cherish our commerce, facilitate agriculture and manufactures, and would introduce peace and social exertion, instead of religious and political strife. again, then, we ask the protestant to ponder over these things--to think of them when he lies down--to talk over them to his catholic neighbours--to see if he and they couldn't agree--and to offer up in church his solemn prayers that this righteous and noble conclusion of our mourning may be vouchsafed. where, in aught that has been said or done by the catholic party, is there evidence of that intolerant and usurping spirit which the protestants seem to dread? do they think it possible for a whole people of some millions of men, women, and children to tell a public lie, and to persevere in the giant falsehood for years? the present generation have been brought up in this faith of religious equality, and they would be liars, and apostates too, if they wished for ascendency. we may add it would not be safe nor possible for the catholics to establish an ascendency, even if the union were repealed; and, therefore, we again ask the protestants, for the sake of peace, interest, and religion, to _try_ if they cannot unite with the catholics for the prosperity of ireland. to the catholics we have nothing to say but to redouble their efforts. conciliation is a fixed and everlasting duty, independently of the political results it might have. if they despaired of winning the protestants to repeal, conciliation would still be their duty, as men and christians. but there is every ground for hope. the protestants, in defeating the rack-renters' anti-repeal meeting, showed they began to see their interest. something has been, more shall be done to remove the prejudice against the catholics, derived from lying histories; and if we may take the stern reproof of the _banner of ulster_ to the _evening mail_ as speaking the sentiments of the presbyterians of the north, then they begin to feel like religious irishmen, and they will presently be with us. scolding mobs.[ ] why on earth have so many of the people of dublin made fools of themselves by getting together in sackville street every evening to hoot at coaches? the coach contract was an injury and an insult to us, but it is now irremediable. we have serious work before us, and let us have no by-battles. to the devil with the whole affair, rather than compromise our cause. nothing could please the government more than frequent little rows, which would get up a hatred between the soldiers and police and the people. they are now very good friends. the armed men are becoming popular and patriotic, and the unarmed, we trust, more orderly, hospitable, and kindly every day. let us have no more tussling and patrolling. what do these mobs mean? a noisy mob is always rash--often cruel and cowardly. a good friendly shout from a multitude is well, and a passing hearty curse endurable. the silent and stern assemblage of orderly men, like the myriads of tipperary, or like one of napoleon's armies, is a noble sight and a mighty power; but a scolding, hooting mob, which meets to make a noise, and runs away from a stick, a horse, or a sabre, is a wretched affair. "i hate little wars," said wellington. so do we; and we hate still more a petty mob meeting without purpose, and dispersing without success. perfect order, silence, obedience, alacrity, and courage make an assemblage formidable and respectable. we want law and order--we are seriously injured by every scene or act of violence, no matter how transient. let us have no more of this humbug. if we are determined men we have enough to _learn_ and to do without wasting our time in hissing and groaning coaches. in reference to popular faults, we cannot help saying a word on the language applied to certain of the enemy's leaders, especially the duke of wellington. we dislike the whole system of false disparagement. the irish people will never be led to act the manly part which liberty requires of them by being told that "the duke," that gallant soldier and most able general, is a screaming coward and doting corporal. we have grave and solemn work to do. making light of it or of our enemies may inspire a moment's overweening confidence, but would ensure ultimate defeat. we have much to contend against; but our resources are immense, and nothing but our own rashness or cowardice can defeat us. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] the withdrawal of the coach contracts from ireland is but another instance of the same spiteful and feeble policy. messrs. bourne and purcell had for years held the contract for building the irish mail coaches. this contract was less a source of wealth to them than of support and comfort to hundreds of families employed by them. the contract runs out--messrs. bourne & purcell propose in form for it--an _informal_ proposal, at a rate inconsiderably lower, is sent in by another person, and is at once accepted. it is accepted notwithstanding its irregularity, and notwithstanding the offer of messrs. bourne & purcell to take it, even at a loss, as low as anyone else. it is given to a foreigner. were the difference triple what it was, that contract should have been left in ireland.--_nation_. munster outrages. the people of munster are in want--will murder feed them? is there some prolific virtue in the blood of a landlord that the fields of the south will yield a richer crop where it has flowed? as the jews dashed their door-posts on the passover, shall the blood of an agent shelter the cabins of tipperary? shame, shame, and horror! oh! to think that these hands, hard with innocent toil, should be reddened with assassination! oh! bitter, bitter grief, that the loving breasts of munster should pillow heads wherein are black plots, and visions of butchery and shadows of remorse! oh! woe unutterable, if the men who abandoned the sin of drunkenness should companion with the devil of murder; and if the men who, last year, vowed patience, order, and virtue, rashly and impiously revel in crime. but what do we say? where are we led by our fears? surely, munster is against these atrocities--they are the sins of a few--the people are pure and sound, and all will be well with ireland! 'tis so, 'tis so; we pray god 'tis so: but yet the people are not without blame! won't they come and talk to us about these horrid deeds? won't they meet us (as brothers to consider disorders in their family) and do something--do all to stop them? don't they confide in us? oh! they know, well they know that our hearts love them better than life--well they know that to-morrow, if 'twould serve, we would be ready to die by their side in battle; but we are not ready to be their accomplices in crime--we would not be unsteady on the scaffold, so we honestly died for them, but we have no share with the murderer! nor is it we alone, who have ever professed our willingness to take the field with the people, who loathe and denounce these crimes. let the men of munster read the last act of the repeal association, and they will find daniel o'connell, william smith o'brien, and the entire repeal league confederated to proclaim and trample down the assassins. let them enter their chapels, and from every altar they will hear their beloved priests solemnly warning them that the forms of the church are as fiery coals on the heads of the blood-stained. let them look upon government, and they will find a potent code and vast police--a disciplined army--all just citizens, combined to quell the assassin; and then let them with their consciences approach their god, and learn that the murderer is dark before him. heaven and earth raise their voices against these crimes. will they not be hopeless?--must they not be desperately wicked? what chance has the guilty of success?--what right to commit so deadly a sin? these murders will not give the people the land, nor leases, nor low rents. when the country was in a rude state, intimidation easy, and concealment easier, they tried the same thing. they began butchering bailiffs--they rose to shooting landlords. did they get nearer their object? did they overpower their oppressors, stop the law, mitigate their condition?--no, but the opposite; the successors of the slaughtered men levied the rents and enforced the ejectments of the slain. they did so with greater zeal, for vengeance strengthened their resolve. they did so with greater effect, for the law that might have interfered where the people were oppressed, and society, which would have aided the wronged people, took arms against assassins, and the death groan of the victim was the best rallying cry of oppression. so it will be again. already men whose tongues, and pens, and hearts were busy pleading for better tenures and juster rents are silenced. they will not clamour for rights when assassins may recruit their gangs with the words of the innocent. already minds deep in preparing remedies for popular suffering are meditating means of popular coercion. the justice, not only of government but society, has grown cautious of redress, and is preparing to punish--a repetition of guilt will aggravate that punishment and postpone that redress. headstrong and vain men, your sins will not give you a landlord the less nor a persecutor the less; while ever the land is liable to the rent there will be found men willing to hazard their lives to get it, and you but arm them with fresh powers, with the sympathy of the public and the increased force of law and government, to lean yet heavier on you. why, too, should munster lead in guilt? our richest province, our purest race, our fairest scenes--oh! why should its bloodshed be as plenteous as its rains? other people suffer much. the peaceful people of kerry, the whole province of connaught, many counties of leinster are under a harsher yoke than the men of north munster: yet they do not seek relief in butchery. thank god! they do not. how horrid a blot upon earth were ireland, if its poor had no reliance but the murder of the rich; better by far that that people rose and waged open war. that were wild--that were criminal; but 'twould be wisdom and mercy compared with these individual murders. how horrible is the condition of a district subject to such crimes! few are struck, but all suffer! 'tis as if men knew assuredly that a spirit of plague were passing through the land, but knew not whom it would wither. think of a district where there has been peace--the people are poor, but they are innocent; some of the rich are merciless, but some are just, and many are kind and sympathising; in their low homes, in their safe chapels, in the faith of their fellows, in the hope of better days, in the effort for improvement, but above all in their conscious innocence, the most trampled of them have consolation, and there is a sort of smile even on the wretched. but let some savage spirits appear among them--let the shebeen house supply the ferocity which religion kept down, and one oppressor is marked out for vengeance, his path is spied, the bludgeon or the bullet smites, and he is borne in to his innocent and loving family a broken and stained corpse, slain in his sins. pursuit follows--the criminals become outlaws--they try to shelter their lives and console their consciences by making many share their guilt--another and another is struck at. haunted by remorse, and tracked by danger, and now intimate with crime, a less and a less excuse suffices. he began by avenging his own wrong, becomes the avenger of others, then perhaps the tool of others, who use the wrongs of the country as a cloak for unjustified malice, and the _suspected_ tyrant or the rigid, yet not unjust, man shares the fate of the glaring oppressors. what terror and suspicion--what a shadow as of death is there upon such a district! no one trusts his neighbour. the rich, excited by such events, believe the poor have conspired to slay them. they dread their very domestics, they abhor the people, rage at the country, summon each other, and all the aid that authority can give to protect and to punish; they bar their doors before sunset, their hearths are surrounded with guns and pistols--at the least rustle every heart beats and women shriek, and men with clenched teeth and embittered hearts make ready for that lone and deadly conflict--that battle without object, without honour, without hope, without quarter. then they cover the country with patrols--they raise up a cloud of hovering spies--no peasant, no farmer feels safe. those who connive shudder at every passing troop, and see an informer in every stranger. those who do not connive tremble lest they be struck as enemies of the criminal; and thus from bad to worse till no home is safe--no heart calm of the thousands. as yet no district has attained this horrible ripeness; but to this north munster may come, unless the people interfere and put down the offenders. will they suffer this hell-blight to come upon them? will they wait till violence and suspicion are the only principles retaining power among them? will they look on while the repeal movement--the educating, the ennobling, the sacred effort for liberty--is superseded by the buzz of assassination and vengeance? or will they now join o'connell and o'brien--the association, the law, and the priesthood; and whenever they hear a breath of outrage, denounce it as they would atheism--whenever they see an attempt at crime, interpose with brave, strong hand, and, in mr. o'brien's words, "leave the guilty no chance of life but in hasty flight from the land they have stained with their crimes." once again we ask the people--the guiltless, the suffering, the noble, the brave people of munster--by their patience, by their courage, by their hopes for ireland, by their love to god, we implore them to put down these assassins as they would and could were the weapons of the murderers aimed at their own children. a second year's work. it was a bold experiment to establish _the nation_. our success is more honourable to ireland than to us, for it was by defying evil customs and bad prejudices we succeeded. let us prove this. religion has for ages been so mixed with irish quarrels that it is often hard to say whether patriotism or superstition was the animating principle of an irish leader, and whether political rapacity or bigoted zeal against bigotry was the motive of an oppressor. yet in no country was this more misplaced in our day than in ireland. our upper classes were mostly episcopalians--masters not merely of the institutions, but the education and moral force of the country. the middle ranks and much of the peasantry of one of our greatest provinces were presbyterians, obstinate in their simple creed--proud of their victories, yet apprehensive of oppression. the rest of the population were catholics, remarkable for piety and tenderness, but equally noted for ignorance and want of self-reliance. to mingle politics and religion in such a country was to blind men to their common secular interests, to render political union impossible, and national independence hopeless. we grappled with the difficulty. we left sacred things to consecrated hands--theology and discipline to churchmen. we preached a nationality that asked after no man's creed (_friend's or foe's_); and now, after our second year's work, we have got a _practical_ as well as a verbal admission that religion is a thing between man and god--that no citizen is to be hooted, or abused, or marked down because he holds any imaginable creed, or changes it any conceivable number of times. we are proudly conscious that, in preaching these great truths with success, we have done more to convince the protestants that they may combine with the catholics and get from under the shield of england than if we had proved that the repeal of the union would double the ears of their corn fields. there had been a long habit of looking to foreign arms or english mercy for redress. we have shared the labours of o'connell and o'brien in impressing on the people that self-reliance is the only liberator. we have, not in vain, taught that, though the concessions of england or the sympathy of others was to be welcomed and used, still they would be best won by dignity and strength; and that, whether they came or not, ireland could redress herself by patience, energy, and resolution. yet, deficient as the people were in genuine self-reliance, they had been pampered into the belief that they were highly educated, nobly represented, successful in every science and art, and that consequently their misery was a mysterious fate, for which there was no remedy in human means. we believe we have convinced them of the contrary of this. ireland has done great things. she has created an unrivalled music and oratory, taken a first place in lyric poetry, displayed great valour, ready wit--has been a pattern of domestic virtue and faith under persecution; and lately has again advanced herself and her fame by deliberate temperance, by organised abstinence from crime, and by increasing political discipline. yet there is that worst of all facts on the face of the census, that most of the irish can neither read nor write; there is evidence in every exhibition that this land, which produced barry, forde, maclise, and burton, is ignorant of the fine arts; and proof in every shop or factory of the truth of kane's motto, that industrial ignorance is a prime obstacle to our wealth. we have no national theatre, either in books or performance; and though we have got of late some classes of prose literature--national fiction, for instance--we have yet to write our history, our statistics, and much of our science. we have week after week candidly told these things to the people, and, instead of quarrelling with us, or running off to men who said "the irish have succeeded in everything," they hearkened to us, and raised our paper into a circulation beyond most of the leaders of the london press, and immensely beyond any other journal that ever was in ireland. what is more cheering still, they have set about curing their defects. they are founding repeal reading-rooms. they have noted down their ignorance in many portions of agriculture, manufactures, commerce, history, literature, and fine arts; and they are working with the agricultural societies, forming polytechnic institutions for the improvement of manufactures, and giving and demanding support to the antiquarian and historical and artistical books and institutions in ireland. large _classes_ wished well to, and small ones supported each of these projects before; but in this journal _all_ classes were canvassed incessantly, and not in vain--and if there be unanimity now, we claim some credit for ourselves, but much more for the people, who did not resent harsh truth, and took advice that affronted their vanity. a political impatience and intolerance have too often been seen in this country. it is one of the vices of slaves to use free speech to insult all who do not praise their faults and their friends and their caprices. we rejoice, in looking over our files, to see how rarely we were personal and how generally we recognised the virtues of political foes. it is an equal pleasure to recall that in many questions, but especially in reference to the liberal members not in the association, we stood between an impolitic fury and its destined victims. the people bore with us, and then agreed with us. we told them that men able and virtuous--men who had gone into parliament when repeal was a whig buggaboo to frighten the tories, were not to be hallooed from their seats because repeal had suddenly grown into a national demand. these men, we said, may become your allies, if you do not put them upon their mettle by your rudeness and impatience. if they join you, they will be faster and more useful friends than men who compensate for every defect by pledge-bolting at command. mr. o'connell, who had at first seemed to incline to the opposite opinion, concurred with us. mr. o'brien was zealous on the same side; the "premature pledges" were postponed to their fit time--an election--and the people induced to apply themselves to the registries, as the true means of getting repeal members. we have maintained and advanced our foreign policy--the recognition and study of other countries beside england, and a careful separation of ourselves from england's crimes. we have, we believe, not neglected those literary, antiquarian, and historical teachings, and those popular projects which we pointed to last year as part of our labours; and we are told that the poetry of _the nation_ has not been worse than in our first year. but these things are more personal, less indicative of national progress, and therefore less interesting than our success in producing political tolerance, increased efforts for education, and that final concession to religious liberty--the right to change without even verbal persecution. the last year has been a year of hard work and hard trial to the country and to us. our first year was spent in rousing and animating--the second in maintaining, guiding, and restraining. its motto is, "bide your time." never had a people more temptation to be rash; and it is our proudest feeling that in our way we aided the infinitely greater powers of o'connell till his imprisonment, and of o'brien thereafter, to keep in the passion, while they kept up the spirit of the people. they and we succeeded. the people saw the darling of their hearts dragged to trial, yet they never rioted; they found month after month go by in the disgusting details of a trial at bar, yet, instead of desponding, they improved their organisation, studied their history and statistics--increased in dignity, modesty, and strength. at length came the imprisonment; we almost doubted them, but they behaved gloriously--they recognised their wrongs, but they crossed their arms--they were neither terrified, disordered, nor divided--they promptly obeyed their new leaders, and, with shut teeth, swore that their "only vengeance should be victory." they succeeded--bore their triumph as well as their defeat, and are now taking breath for a fresh effort at education, organisation, and conciliation. it is something to have laboured through a second year for such a people. let them go on as they have begun--growing more thoughtful, more temperate, more educated, more resolute--let them complete their parish organisation, carry out their registries, and, above all, establish those reading-rooms which will inform and strengthen them into liberty; and, ere many years' work, the green flag will be saluted by europe, and ireland will be a nation. the people have shown that their spirit, their discipline, and their modesty can be relied on; they have but to exhibit that greatest virtue which their enemies deny them--perseverence--and all will be well. orange and green. here it is at last--the dawning. here, in the very sanctuary of the orange heart, is a visible angel of nationality:-- "if a british union cannot be formed, perhaps an irish one might. what could repeal take from irish protestants that they are not gradually losing '_in due course_'? "however improbable, it is not impossible, that better terms might be made with the repealers than the government seem disposed to give. a hundred thousand orangemen, with their colours flying, might yet meet a hundred thousand repealers on the banks of the boyne; and, on a field presenting so many solemn reminiscences to all, sign the magna charta of ireland's independence. the repeal banner might then be orange and green, flying from the giant's causeway to the cove of cork, and proudly look down from the walls of derry upon a new-born nation. "such a union, not to be accomplished without concession on all sides, would remove the great offence of irish protestants--their saxon attachment to their british fatherland. cast off, as they would feel themselves by great britain, and baptised on the banks of the boyne into the great irish family, they would be received into a brotherhood which, going forward towards the attainment of a national object, would extinguish the spirit of ribbonism, and establish in its place a covenant of peace." so speaks the _evening mail_, the trumpet of the northern confederates, and we cry amen! amen! we exult, till the beat of our heart stays our breathing, at the vision of such a concourse. never--never, when the plains of attica saw the rivals of greece marching to expel the persian, who had tried to intrigue with each for the ruin of both--never, when, from the uplands of helvetia, rolled together the victors of sempach--never, when, at the cry of fatherland, the hundred nations of germany rose up, and swept on emancipating to the rhine--never was there under the sky a godlier or more glorious sight than that would be--to all slaves, balsam; to all freemen, strength; to all time, a miracle! if ireland's wrongs were borne for this--if our feuds and our weary sapping woes were destined to this ending, then blessed be the griefs of the past! his sickness to the healed--his pining to the happy lover--his danger to the rescued, are faint images of such a birth from such a chaos. it is something--the cheer of an invisible friend--to have, even for a moment, heard the hope. it must abide in the souls of the irish, guaranteeing the moderation of the catholic--wakening the aspirations of the orangemen. there it is--a cross on the sky. it may not now lead to anything real. long-suffering, oft-baffled ireland will not abandon for an inch or hour its selected path by reason of this message. we hope from it, because it has been prompted by causes which will daily increase. incessantly will the british minister labour to gain the support of seven millions of freed men, by cutting away every privilege and strength from one million of discarded allies. we hope from it, because, as the orangemen become more enlightened, they will more and more value the love of their countrymen, be prouder of their country, and more conscious that their ambition, interest, and even security are identical with nationality. we hope from it, because, as the education of people and the elevation of the rich progress, they will better understand the apprehensions of the orangemen, allow for them in a more liberal spirit, and be able to give more genuine security to even the nervousness of their new friends. we hope most from it, because of its intrinsic greatness. it is the best promise yet seen to have the orangemen proposing, even as a chance, the conference of , armed and ordered yeomen from the north, with , picked (ay, by our faith! and martial) southerns on the banks of the boyne, to witness a treaty of mutual concession, oblivion, and eternal amity; and then to lift an orange-green flag of nationhood, and defy the world to pull it down. yet 'tis a distant hope, and ireland, we repeat, must not swerve for its flashing. when the orangemen treat the shamrock with as ready a welcome as wexford gave the lily--when the green is set as consort of the orange in the lodges of the north--when the fermanagh meeting declares that the orangemen are irishmen pledged to ireland, and summons another dungannon convention to prepare the terms of our treaty; then, and not till then, shall we treat this gorgeous hope as a reality, and then, and not till then, shall we summon the repealers to quit their present sure course, and trust their fortunes to the league of the boyne. meantime, we commend to the hearts and pride of "the enniskilleners" this, their fathers', declaration in :-- "county fermanagh grand jury. "we, the grand jury of the county of fermanagh, being constitutionally assembled at the present assizes, held for the county of fermanagh, at enniskillen, this th day of march, , think ourselves called upon at this interesting moment to make our solemn declarations relative to the rights and liberties of ireland. "we _pledge ourselves_ to this our country, that we will never pay obedience to any law made, or to be made, to bind ireland, except those laws which are and shall be made by the king, lords, and commons of ireland. "signed by order, "arthur cole hamilton, foreman." academical education.[ ] the rough outlines of a plan of academical education for ireland are now before the country. the plan, as appears from sir james graham's very conciliatory speech, is to be found three colleges; to give them £ , for buildings, and £ , a year for expenses; to open them to all creeds; the education to be purely secular; the students not to live within the colleges; and the professors to be named and removed, now and hereafter, by government. the announcement of this plan was received in the commons with extravagant praise by the irish whig and repeal members, nor was any hostility displayed except by the blockhead and bigot, sir robert inglis--a preposterous fanatic, who demands the repeal of the emancipation act, and was never yet missed from the holy orgies of exeter hall. out of doors it has had a darker reception; but now that the first storm of joy and anger is over, it is time for the people of ireland to think of this measure. it is for them to consider it--it is for them to decide on it--it is for them to profit by it. for centuries the irish were paupers and serfs, because they were ignorant and divided. the protestant hated the catholic, and oppressed him--the catholic hated the protestant, and would not trust him. england fed the bigotry of both, and flourished on the ignorance of both. the ignorance was a barrier between our sects--left our merchant's till, our farmer's purse, and our state treasury empty--stupefied our councils in peace, and slackened our arm in war. whatsoever plan will strengthen the soul of ireland with knowledge, and knit the sects of ireland in liberal and trusting friendship, will be better for us than if corn and wine were scattered from every cloud. while , of the poor find instruction in the national schools, the means of education for the middle and upper classes are as bad now as they were ten or fifty years ago. a farmer or a shopkeeper in ireland cannot, by any sacrifice, win for his son such an education as would be proffered to him in germany. how can he afford to pay the expense of his son's living in the capital, in addition to collegiate fees; and, if he could, why should he send his son where, unless he be an episcopalian protestant, those collegiate offices which, though they could be held but by a few score, would influence hundreds, are denied him. even to the gentry the distance and expense are oppressive; and to the catholics and presbyterians of them the monopoly is intolerable. to bring academical education within the reach and means of the middle classes, to free it from the disease of ascendency, and to make it a means of union as well as of instruction, should be the objects of him who legislates on this subject; and we implore the gentry and middle classes, whom it concerns, to examine this plan calmly and closely, and to act on their convictions like firm and sensible men. if such a measure cannot be discussed in a reasonable and decent way, our progress to self-government is a progress to giddy convulsions and shameful ruin. let us look into the details of the plan. it grants £ , and £ , a year for the foundation of three provincial colleges. the colleges proposed are for the present numerous enough. it will be hard to get competent professors for even these. elementary education has made great way; but the very ignorance for which these institutions are meant as a remedy makes the class of irishmen fit to fill professors' chairs small indeed; and, small as it is, it yearly loses its best men by emigration to london, where they find rewards, fame, and excitement. the dismissal, hereafter, of incompetent men would be a painful, but--if pedants, dunces, and cheats were crammed into the chairs--an unavoidable task. a gradual increase of such colleges will better suit the progress of irish intelligence than a sudden and final endowment. but though the colleges are enough, and the annual allowance sufficient, the building fund is inadequate--at least double the sum would be needed; but this brings us to another part of the plan--the residence of the students outside the college. to the extern residence we are decidedly opposed. it works well in germany, where the whole grown population are educated; but in ireland, where the adult population are unhappily otherwise, 'tis a matter of consequence to keep the students together, to foster an academic spirit and character, and to preserve them from the stupefying influences of common society. however, this point is but secondary, so we pass from it, and come to the two great principles of the bill. they are--mixed education and government nomination; and we are as resolute for the first as we are against the second. the objections to separate education are immense; the reasons for it are reasons for separate life, for mutual animosity, for penal laws, for religious wars. 'tis said that communication between students of different creeds will taint their faith and endanger their souls. they who say so should prohibit the students from associating _out_ of the colleges even more than _in_ them. in the colleges they will be joined in studying mathematics, natural philosophy, engineering, chemistry, the principles of reasoning, the constitution of man. surely union in these studies would less peril their faith than free communication out of doors. come, come, let those who insist on unqualified separate education follow out their principles--let them prohibit catholic and protestant boys from playing, or talking, or walking together--let them mark out every frank or indiscreet man for a similar prohibition--let them establish a theological police--let them rail off each sect (as the jews used to be cooped) into a separate quarter; or rather, to save preliminaries, let each of them proclaim war in the name of his creed on the men of all other creeds, and fight till death, triumph, or disgust shall leave him leisure to revise his principles. these are the logical consequences of the doctrine of separate education, but we acquit the friends of it of that or any other such ferocious purpose. their intentions are pious and sincere--their argument is dangerous, for they might find followers with less virtue and more dogged consistency. we say "an _unqualified_ separate education," because it is said, with some plausibility, that the manner in which theology mixes up with history and moral philosophy renders common instruction in them almost impossible. the reasoning is pushed too far. yet the objection should be well weighed; though we warn those who push it very far not to fall into the extravagance of a valued friend of ours, who protested against one person attempting to teach medicine to catholics and protestants, as one creed acknowledged miraculous cures and demoniacal possessions, and the other rejected both! it should be noted, too, that this demand for separate _professors_ does not involve separate colleges, does not assume that any evil would result from the friendship of the students, and does not lead to the desperate, though unforeseen, conclusions which follow from the other notion. 'tis also a different thing to propose the establishment of deans in each college to inspect the religious discipline and moral conduct of the students--a catholic dean, appointed by the catholic church, watching over the catholic students; and so of the episcopalians and presbyterians. such deans, and halls for religious teaching, will be absolutely necessary, should a residence in the colleges be required; but should a system of residence in registered lodgings and boarding-houses be preferred, similar duties to the deans might be performed by persons nominated by the catholic, protestant, and presbyterian churches respectively, without the direct interposition of the college; for each parent would take care to put his child under the control of his own church. an adequate provision in some sufficient manner for religious discipline is essential, and to be dispensed with on no pretence. these, however, are details of great consequence to be discussed in the commons' committee; but we repeat our claim for mixed education, because it has worked well among the students of trinity college, and would work better were its offices free, because it is the principle approved by ireland when she demanded the opening of those offices, and when she accepted the national schools--because it is the principle of the cork, the limerick, and the derry meetings; but above all, because it is consistent with piety, and favourable to that union of irishmen of different sects, for want of which ireland is in rags and chains. against the nomination of professors by government we protest altogether. we speak alike of whig or tory. the nomination would be _looked on_ as a political bribe, the removal as a political punishment. nay, the nomination _would_ be political. under great public excitement a just nomination might be made, but in quiet times it would be given to the best mathematician or naturalist who attended the levee and wrote against the opposition. and it would be an enormous power; for it would not merely control the immediate candidates, but hundreds, who thought they might some ten years after be solicitors for professorships, would shrink from committing themselves to uncourtly politics, or qualify by ministerial partisanship, not philosophical study, for that distant day. a better engine for corrupting that great literary class which is the best hope of ireland could not be devised; and if it be retained in the bill, that bill must be resisted and defeated, whether in or out of parliament. we warn the minister! we have omitted a strange objection to the bill--that it does not give mixed education. it is said the colleges of cork and galway would be attended only by catholics, and that of belfast by protestants. both are errors. the middle class of protestants in cork is numerous--they and the poorer gentry would send their sons to the cork college to save expense. the catholics would assuredly do the same in belfast; they do so with the institution in the academy there already; and though the catholics in cork, and the protestants in belfast, would be the majorities, enough of the opposite creed would be in each to produce all the wholesome restraint, and much of the wholesome toleration and goodwill, of the mixed system of trinity. were the objection good, however, it ought to content the advocates of separate education. it has been said, too, that the bill recognises a religious ascendency in the case of belfast. this seems to us a total misconception of the words of the minister. he suggested that the southern college should be in cork, the western in limerick or galway, the northern in derry or belfast. had he stopped at derry the mistake could never have occurred; but he went on to say that if the college were planted in belfast, the building now used for the belfast academy would serve for the new college, and unless the echoes of the old theological professors be more permanent than common, we cannot understand the sectarianism of the _building_ in belfast. a more valid objection would be that the measure was not more complete; and the university system will certainly be crippled and impotent unless residence for a year at least in it be essential to a university degree. the main defect of the bill is its omitting to deal with trinity college. it is said that the property is and was protestant; but the bill of ' , which admitted catholics to be educated on this protestant foundation, broke down the title; and, at all events, the property is as public as the corporation, and is liable to all the demands of public convenience. but it is added that the property of trinity college is not more than £ , or £ , a year, and that the grant for catholic clerical education alone is £ , a year; and certainly till the protestant church be equalised to the wants of the protestant population there will be something in the argument. when that reformation comes, a third of the funds should be given for protestant clerical education, and the college livings transferred to the clerical college, and the remaining two-thirds preserved to trinity college as a secular university. waiting that settlement, we see nothing better than the proposal so admirably urged by the _morning chronicle_, of the grant of £ , --we say £ , --a year, for the foundation of catholic fellowships and scholarships in trinity college. some such change must be made, for it would be the grossest injustice to give catholics a share, or the whole, of one or two new, untried, characterless provincial academies, and exclude them from the offices of the ancient, celebrated, and national university. if there is to be a religious equality, trinity college must be opened, or augmented by catholic endowment. for this no demand can be too loud and vehement, for the refusal will be an affront and a grievance to the catholics of ireland. we have only run over the merits and faults of this plan. next to a tenure or a militia bill, it is the most important possible. questions must arise on every section of it; and, however these questions be decided, we trust in god they will be decided without acrimony or recrimination, and that so divine a subject as education will not lead to disunions which would prostrate our country. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] from _the nation_, may , . iv. poetical works. a nation once again. i. when boyhood's fire was in my blood i read of ancient freemen for greece and rome who bravely stood, three hundred men and three men.[ ] and then i prayed i yet might see our fetters rent in twain, and ireland, long a province, be a nation once again. ii. and, from that time, through wildest woe, that hope has shone, a far light; nor could love's brightest summer glow outshine that solemn starlight: it seemed to watch above my head in forum, field and fane; its angel voice sang round my bed, "a nation once again." iii. it whispered, too, that "freedom's ark and service high and holy, would be profaned by feelings dark and passions vain or lowly: for freedom comes from god's right hand, and needs a godly train; and righteous men must make our land a nation once again." iv. so, as i grew from boy to man, i bent me to that bidding-- my spirit of each selfish plan and cruel passion ridding; for, thus i hoped some day to aid-- oh! can _such_ hope be vain?-- when my dear country shall be made a nation once again. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] the three hundred greeks who died at thermopylæ, and the three romans who kept the sublician bridge. the geraldines. i. the geraldines! the geraldines!--'tis full a thousand years since, 'mid the tuscan vineyards, bright flashed their battle-spears; when capet seized the crown of france, their iron shields were known, and their sabre-dint struck terror on the banks of the garonne: across the downs of hastings they spurred hard by william's side, and the grey sands of palestine with moslem blood they dyed; but never then, nor thence, till now, has falsehood or disgrace been seen to soil fitzgerald's plume, or mantle in his face. ii. the geraldines! the geraldines!--'tis true, in strongbow's van, by lawless force, as conquerors, their irish reign began; and, oh! through many a dark campaign they proved their prowess stern, in leinster's plains and munster's vales on king and chief and kerne; but noble was the cheer within the halls so rudely won, and generous was the steel-gloved hand that had such slaughter done; how gay their laugh, how proud their mien, you'd ask no herald's sign-- among a thousand you had known the princely geraldine. iii. these geraldines! these geraldines!--not long our air they breathed; not long they fed on venison, in irish water seethed; not often had their children been by irish mothers nursed; when from their full and genial hearts an irish feeling burst! the english monarchs strove in vain, by law and force and bribe, to win from irish thoughts and ways this "more than irish" tribe; for still they clung to fosterage, to _breitheamh_[ ], cloak, and bard: what king dare say to geraldine, "your irish wife discard?" iv. ye geraldines! ye geraldines!--how royally ye reigned o'er desmond broad, and rich kildare, and english arts disdained: your sword made knights, your banner waved, free was your bugle call by gleann's[ ] green slopes, and daingean's[ ] tide, from bearbha's[ ] banks to eóchaill.[ ] what gorgeous shrines, what _breitheamh_ lore, what minstrel feasts there were in and around magh nuadhaid's[ ] keep, and palace-filled adare! but not for rite or feast ye stayed, when friend or kin were pressed; and foemen fled, when "_crom abu_"[ ] bespoke your lance in rest. v. ye geraldines! ye geraldines!--since silken thomas flung king henry's sword on council board, the english thanes among, ye never ceased to battle brave against the english sway, though axe and brand and treachery your proudest cut away. of desmond's blood through woman's veins passed on th' exhausted tide; his title lives--a sacsanach churl usurps the lion's hide; and, though kildare tower haughtily, there's ruin at the root, else why, since edward fell to earth, had such a tree no fruit? vi. true geraldines! brave geraldines!--as torrents mould the earth, you channelled deep old ireland's heart by constancy and worth: when ginckel 'leaguered limerick, the irish soldiers gazed to see if in the setting sun dead desmond's banner blazed! and still it is the peasants' hope upon the cuirreach's[ ] mere, "they live, who'll see ten thousand men with good lord edward here"-- so let them dream till brighter days, when, not by edward's shade, but by some leader true as he, their lines shall be arrayed! vii. these geraldines! these geraldines!--rain wears away the rock and time may wear away the tribe that stood the battle's shock; but ever, sure, while one is left of all that honoured race, in front of ireland's chivalry is that fitzgerald's place: and, though the last were dead and gone, how many a field and town, from thomas court to abbeyfeile, would cherish their renown, and men would say of valour's rise, or ancient power's decline, "'twill never soar, it never shone, as did the geraldine." viii. the geraldines! the geraldines!--and are there any fears within the sons of conquerors for full a thousand years? can treason spring from out a soil bedewed with martyrs' blood? or has that grown a purling brook, which long rushed down a flood?-- by desmond swept with sword and fire--by clan and keep laid low-- by silken thomas and his kin,--by sainted edward, no! the forms of centuries rise up, and in the irish line command their son to take the post that fits the geraldine![ ] --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] _angl._ brehon. [ ] _angl._ glyn. [ ] _angl._ dingle. [ ] _angl._ barrow. [ ] _angl._ youghal. [ ] _angl._ maynooth. [ ] formerly the war-cry of the geraldines, and now their motto. [ ] _angl._ curragh. [ ] the concluding stanza was found among the author's papers, and was inserted in the first edition. it is believed to have had a personal reference, not to any geraldine but to william smith o'brien.--ed. o'brien of ara.[ ] air--_the piper of blessington_. i. tall are the towers of o'ceinneidigh[ ]-- broad are the lands of maccarrthaigh[ ]-- desmond feeds five hundred men a-day; yet, here's to o'briain[ ] of ara! up from the castle of druim-aniar,[ ] down from the top of camailte, clansman and kinsman are coming here to give him the cead mile failte. ii. see you the mountains look huge at eve-- so is our chieftain in battle-- welcome he has for the fugitive,-- _uisce-beatha_[ ] fighting, and cattle! up from the castle of druim-aniar, down from the top of camailte gossip and ally are coming here to give him the cead mile failte. iii. horses the valleys are tramping on, sleek from the sacsanach manger-- _creachts_ the hills are encamping on, empty the bawns of the stranger! up from the castle of druim-aniar, down from the top of camailte, _ceithearn_[ ] and _buannacht_ are coming here to give him the cead mile failte. iv. he has black silver from cill-da-lua[ ]-- rian[ ] and cearbhall[ ] are neighbours-- 'n aonach[ ] submits with a _fuililiú_-- butler is meat for our sabres! up from the castle of druim-aniar down from the top of camailte, rian and cearbhall are coming here to give him the cead mile failte. v. 'tis scarce a week since through osairghe[ ] chased he the baron of durmhagh[ ]-- forced him five rivers to cross, or he had died by the sword of red murchadh![ ] up from the castle of druim-aniar, down from the top of camailte, all the ui bhriain are coming here to give him the cead mile failte. vi. tall are the towers of o'ceinneidigh-- broad are the lands of maccarrthaigh-- desmond feeds five hundred men a-day; yet, here's to o'briain of ara! up from the castle of druim-aniar, down from the top of camailte, clansman and kinsman are coming here to give him the cead mile failte. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] ara is a small mountain tract south of loch deirgdheire, and north of the camailte, or the keeper, hills. it was the seat of a branch of the thomond princes, called the o'briens of ara. [ ] _vulgo_ o'kennedy. [ ] _vul._ m'carthy. [ ] _vul._ o'brien. [ ] _vul._ drumineer. [ ] _vul._ usquebaugh. [ ] _vul._ kerne. [ ] _vul._ killaloe. [ ] _vul._ ryan. [ ] _vul._ carroll. [ ] _vul._ nenagh. [ ] _vulgo_, ossory. [ ] _vul._ lurrow. [ ] _vul._ murrough. the sack of baltimore.[ ] i. the summer sun is falling soft on carbery's hundred isles-- the summer sun is gleaming still through gabriel's rough defiles-- old inisherkin's crumbled fane looks like a moulting bird; and in a calm and sleepy swell the ocean tide is heard; the hookers lie upon the beach; the children cease their play; the gossips leave the little inn; the households kneel to pray-- and full of love and peace and rest--its daily labour o'er-- upon that cosy creek there lay the town of baltimore. ii. a deeper rest, a starry trance, has come with midnight there; no sound, except that throbbing wave in earth, or sea, or air. the massive capes and ruined towers seem conscious of the calm; the fibrous sod and stunted trees are breathing heavy balm. so still the night, these two long barques round dunashad that glide, must trust their oars--methinks not few--against the ebbing tide-- oh! some sweet mission of true love must urge them to the shore-- they bring some lover to his bride, who sighs in baltimore! iii. all, all asleep within each roof along that rocky street, and these must be the lover's friends, with gently gliding feet-- a stifled gasp! a dreamy noise! "the roof is in a flame!" from out their beds, and to their doors, rush maid, and sire, and dame-- and meet, upon the threshold stone, the gleaming sabre's fall, and o'er each black and bearded face the white or crimson shawl-- the yell of "allah" breaks above the prayer and shriek and roar-- oh, blessed god! the algerine is lord of baltimore! iv. then flung the youth his naked hand against the shearing sword; then sprung the mother on the brand with which her son was gored; then sunk the grandsire on the floor, his grand-babes clutching wild; then fled the maiden moaning faint, and nestled with the child; but see, yon pirate strangled lies, and crushed with splashing heel, while o'er him in an irish hand there sweeps his syrian steel-- though virtue sink, and courage fail, and misers yield their store, there's _one_ hearth well avengéd in the sack of baltimore! v. mid-summer morn, in woodland nigh, the birds began to sing-- they see not now the milking maids--deserted is the spring! mid-summer day--this gallant rides from distant bandon's town-- these hookers crossed from stormy skull, that skiff from affadown; they only found the smoking walls, with neighbours' blood besprent, and on the strewed and trampled beach awhile they wildly went-- then dashed to sea, and passed cape cléire, and saw five leagues before the pirate galleys vanishing that ravaged baltimore. vi. oh! some must tug the galley's oar, and some must tend the steed-- this boy will bear a scheik's chibouk, and that a bey's jerreed. oh! some are for the arsenals, by beauteous dardanelles; and some are in the caravan to mecca's sandy dells. the maid that bandon gallant sought is chosen for the dey-- she's safe--he's dead--she stabbed him in the midst of his serai; and when to die a death of fire that noble maid they bore, she only smiled--o'driscoll's child--she thought of baltimore. vii. 'tis two long years since sunk the town beneath that bloody band, and all around its trampled hearths a larger concourse stand, where high upon a gallows tree, a yelling wretch is seen-- 'tis hackett of dungarvan--he who steered the algerine! he fell amid a sullen shout, with scarce a passing prayer, for he had slain the kith and kin of many a hundred there-- some muttered of macmurchadh, who brought the norman o'er-- some cursed him with iscariot, that day in baltimore. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] baltimore is a small seaport in the barony of carbery, in south munster. it grew up round a castle of o'driscoll's, and was, after his ruin, colonized by the english. on the th of june, , the crew of two algerine galleys landed in the dead of the night, sacked the town, and bore off into slavery all who were not too old, or too young, or too fierce for their purpose. the pirates were steered up the intricate channel by one hackett, a dungarvan fisherman, whom they had taken at sea for the purpose. two years after he was convicted and executed for the crime. baltimore never recovered this. to the artist, the antiquary, and the naturalist, its neighbourhood is most interesting. see "the ancient and present state of the county and city of cork," by charles smith, m.d. lament for the death of eoghan ruadh o'neill.[ ] i. "did they dare, did they dare, to slay eoghan ruadh o'neill?" "yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel." "may god wither up their hearts! may their blood cease to flow! may they walk in living death, who poisoned eoghan ruadh!" ii. "though it break my heart to hear, say again the bitter words. from derry, against cromwell, he marched to measure swords: but the weapon of the sacsanach met him on his way, and he died at cloch uachtar,[ ] upon st. leonard's day. iii. "wail, wail ye for the mighty one! wail, wail ye for the dead! quench the hearth, and hold the breath--with ashes strew the head. how tenderly we loved him! how deeply we deplore! holy saviour! but to think we shall never see him more. iv. "sagest in the council was he, kindest in the hall! sure we never won a battle--'twas eoghan won them all. had he lived--had he lived--our dear country had been free; but he's dead, but he's dead, and 'tis slaves we'll ever be. v. "o'farrell and clanrickarde, preston and red hugh, audley and macmahon, ye are valiant, wise, and true; but--what, what are ye all to our darling who is gone? the rudder of our ship was he, our castle's corner stone! vi. "wail, wail him through the island! weep, weep for our pride! would that on the battle-field our gallant chief had died! weep the victor of beann-bhorbh[ ]--weep him, young men and old; weep for him, ye women--your beautiful lies cold! vii. "we thought you would not die--we were sure you would not go, and leave us in our utmost need to cromwell's cruel blow-- sheep without a shepherd, when the snow shuts out the sky-- oh! why did you leave us, eoghan? why did you die? viii. "soft as woman's was your voice, o'neill! bright was your eye, oh! why did you leave us, eoghan? why did you die? your troubles are all over, you're at rest with god on high, but we're slaves, and we're orphans, eoghan!--why didst thou die?" --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] commonly called owen roe o'neill. time, th november, . scene--ormond's camp, county waterford. speakers--a veteran of eoghan o'neill's clan, and one of the horsemen just arrived with an account of his death. [ ] clough oughter. [ ] benburb. the penal days. air--_the wheelwright_. i. oh! weep those days, the penal days, when ireland hopelessly complained. oh! weep those days, the penal days, when godless persecution reigned; when year by year, for serf and peer, fresh cruelties were made by law, and filled with hate, our senate sate to weld anew each fetter's flaw. oh! weep those days, those penal days-- their memory still on ireland weighs. ii. they bribed the flock, they bribed the son, to sell the priest and rob the sire; their dogs were taught alike to run upon the scent of wolf and friar. among the poor, or on the moor, were hid the pious and the true-- while traitor knave, and recreant slave, had riches, rank, and retinue; and, exiled in those penal days, our banners over europe blaze. iii. a stranger held the land and tower of many a noble fugitive; no popish lord had lordly power, the peasant scarce had leave to live; above his head a ruined shed, no tenure but a tyrant's will-- forbid to plead, forbid to read disarmed, disfranchised, imbecile-- what wonder if our step betrays the freedman, born in penal days? iv. they're gone, they're gone, those penal days! all creeds are equal in our isle; then grant, o lord, thy plenteous grace, our ancient feuds to reconcile. let all atone for blood and groan, for dark revenge and open wrong; let all unite for ireland's right, and drown our griefs in freedom's song; till time shall veil in twilight haze, the memory of those penal days. the surprise of cremona. . i. from milan to cremona duke villeroy rode, and soft are the beds in his princely abode; in billet and barrack the garrison sleep, and loose is the watch which the sentinels keep: 'tis the eve of st. david, and bitter the breeze of that mid-winter night on the flat cremonese; a fig for precaution!--prince eugene sits down in winter cantonments round mantua town! ii. yet through ustiano, and out on the plain, horse, foot, and dragoons, are defiling amain. "that flash!" said prince eugene: "count merci, push on"-- like a rock from a precipice merci is gone. proud mutters the prince: "that is cassioli's sign: ere the dawn of the morning cremona'll be mine; for merci will open the gate of the po, but scant is the mercy prince vaudemont will shew!" iii. through gate, street, and square, with his keen cavaliers-- a flood through a gulley--count merci careers-- they ride without getting or giving a blow, nor halt till they gaze on the gate of the po. "surrender the gate!"--but a volley replied, for a handful of irish are posted inside. by my faith, charles vaudemont will come rather late, if he stay till count merci shall open that gate! iv. but in through st. margaret's the austrians pour, and billet and barrack are ruddy with gore; unarmed and naked, the soldiers are slain-- there's an enemy's gauntlet on villeroy's rein-- "a thousand pistoles and a regiment of horse-- release me, macdonnell!"--they hold on their course. count merci has seized upon cannon and wall, prince eugene's headquarters are in the town-hall! v. here and there, through the city, some readier band, for honour and safety, undauntedly stand. at the head of the regiments of dillon and burke is major o'mahony, fierce as a turk. his sabre is flashing--the major is dress'd, but muskets and shirts are the clothes of the rest! yet they rush to the ramparts, the clocks have tolled ten, and count merci retreats with the half of his men. vi. "in on them!" said friedberg--and dillon is broke, like forest-flowers crushed by the fall of the oak; through the naked battalions the cuirassiers go;-- but the man, not the dress, makes the soldier, i trow upon them with grapple, with bay'net, and ball, like wolves upon gaze-hounds, the irishmen fall-- black friedberg is slain by o'mahony's steel, and back from the bullets the cuirassiers reel. vii. oh! hear you their shout in your quarters, eugene? in vain on prince vaudemont for succour you lean! the bridge has been broken, and, mark! how, pell-mell come riderless horses, and volley and yell! he's a veteran soldier--he clenches his hands, he springs on his horse, disengages his bands-- he rallies, he urges, till, hopeless of aid, he is chased through the gates by the irish brigade. viii. news, news, in vienna!--king leopold's sad. news, news, in st. james's!--king william is mad. news, news, in versailles!--"let the irish brigade be loyally honoured, and royally paid." news, news, in old ireland!--high rises her pride, and high sounds her wail for her children who died, and deep is her prayer: "god send i may see macdonnell and mahony fighting for me!" the flower of finae. i. bright red is the sun on the waves of lough sheelin, a cool, gentle breeze from the mountain is stealing, while fair round its islets the small ripples play, but fairer than all is the flower of finae. ii. her hair is like night, and her eyes like grey morning, she trips on the heather as if its touch scorning, yet her heart and her lips are as mild as may day, sweet eily macmahon, the flower of finae. iii. but who down the hill-side than red deer runs fleeter? and who on the lake-side is hastening to greet her? who but fergus o'farrell, the fiery and gay, the darling and pride of the flower of finae? iv. one kiss and one clasp, and one wild look of gladness; ah! why do they change on a sudden to sadness?-- he has told his hard fortune, no more he can stay, he must leave his poor eily to pine at finae. v. for fergus o'farrell was true to his sire-land, and the dark hand of tyranny drove him from ireland; he joins the brigade, in the wars far away, but he vows he'll come back to the flower of finae. vi. he fought at cremona--she hears of his story; he fought at cassano--she's proud of his glory. yet sadly she sings _siúbhail a rúin_[ ] all the day, "oh! come, come, my darling, come home to finae." vii. eight long years have passed, till she's nigh broken-hearted, her _reel_, and her _rock_, and her flax she has parted; she sails with the "wild geese" to flanders away, and leaves her sad parents alone in finae. viii. lord clare on the field of ramillies is charging-- before him, the sacsanach squadrons enlarging-- behind him the cravats their sections display-- beside him rides fergus and shouts for finae. ix. on the slopes of la judoigne the frenchmen are flying lord clare and his squadrons the foe still defying, outnumbered, and wounded, retreat in array; and bleeding rides fergus and thinks of finae. x. in the cloisters of ypres a banner is swaying, and by it a pale, weeping maiden is praying; that flag's the sole trophy of ramillies' fray; this nun is poor eily, the flower of finae. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] shule aroon. clare's dragoons. air--_viva la_. i. when, on ramillies' bloody field, the baffled french were forced to yield, the victor saxon backward reeled before the charge of clare's dragoons. the flags we conquered in that fray look lone in ypres' choir, they say, we'll win them company to-day, or bravely die like clare's dragoons. chorus. _viva la_, for ireland's wrong! _viva la_, for ireland's right! _viva la_, in battle throng, for a spanish steed, and sabre bright! ii. the brave old lord died near the fight, but, for each drop he lost that night, a saxon cavalier shall bite the dust before lord clare's dragoons. for never, when our spurs were set, and never, when our sabres met, could we the saxon soldiers get to stand the shock of clare's dragoons. chorus. _viva la_, the new brigade! _viva la_, the old one, too! _viva la_, the rose shall fade, and the shamrock shine for ever new! iii. another clare is here to lead, the worthy son of such a breed; the french expect some famous deed, when clare leads on his bold dragoons. our colonel comes from brian's race, his wounds are in his breast and face, the _bearna baoghail_[ ] is still his place, the foremost of his bold dragoons. chorus. _viva la_, the new brigade! _viva la_, the old one, too! _viva la_, the rose shall fade, and the shamrock shine for ever new! iv. there's not a man in squadron here was ever known to flinch or fear; though first in charge and last in rere, have ever been lord clare's dragoons; but see! we'll soon have work to do, to shame our boasts, or prove them true, for hither comes the english crew, to sweep away lord clare's dragoons. chorus. _viva la_, for ireland's wrong! _viva la_, for ireland's right! _viva la_, in battle throng, for a spanish steed and sabre bright! v. oh! comrades! think how ireland pines, her exiled lords, her rifled shrines, her dearest hope, the ordered lines, and bursting charge of clare's dragoons. then fling your green flag to the sky. be "limerick" your battle-cry, and charge, till blood floats fetlock-high, around the track of clare's dragoons! chorus. _viva la_, the new brigade! _viva la_, the old one, too! _viva la_, the rose shall fade, and the shamrock shine for ever new! --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] gap of danger. the battle eve of the brigade. air--_contented i am_. i. the mess-tent is full, and the glasses are set, and the gallant count thomond is president yet; the veteran stands, like an uplifted lance, crying--"comrades, a health to the monarch of france!" with bumpers and cheers they have done as he bade, for king louis is loved by the irish brigade. ii. "a health to king james," and they bent as they quaffed, "here's to george the _elector_," and fiercely they laughed, "good luck to the girls we wooed long ago, where shannon and barrow and blackwater flow;" "god prosper old ireland,"--you'd think them afraid, so pale grew the chiefs of the irish brigade. iii. "but, surely, that light cannot come from our lamp, and that noise--are they _all_ getting drunk in the camp?" "hurrah! boys, the morning of battle is come, and the _générale's_ beating on many a drum." so they rush from the revel to join the parade: for the van is the right of the irish brigade. iv. they fought as they revelled, fast, fiery, and true, and, though victors, they left on the field not a few; and they who survived fought and drank as of yore, but the land of their heart's hope they never saw more; for in far foreign fields, from dunkirk to belgrade, lie the soldiers and chiefs of the irish brigade. fontenoy. . i. thrice, at the huts of fontenoy, the english column failed, and twice the lines of saint antoine the dutch in vain assailed; for town and slope were filled with fort and flanking battery, and well they swept the english ranks and dutch auxiliary. as vainly, through de barri's wood, the british soldiers burst, the french artillery drove them back, diminished, and dispersed. the bloody duke of cumberland beheld with anxious eye, and ordered up his last reserve, his latest chance to try, on fontenoy, on fontenoy, how fast his generals ride! and mustering come his chosen troops, like clouds at eventide. ii. six thousand english veterans in stately column tread; their cannon blaze in front and flank, lord hay is at their head; steady they step a-down the slope--steady they climb the hill; steady they load--steady they fire, moving right onward still, betwixt the wood and fontenoy, as through a furnace blast, through rampart, trench, and palisade, and bullets showering fast; and on the open plain above they rose and kept their course, with ready fire and grim resolve, that mocked at hostile force: past fontenoy, past fontenoy, while thinner grew their ranks-- they break, as broke the zuyder zee through holland's ocean banks. iii. more idly than the summer flies, french tirailleurs rush round; as stubble to the lava tide, french squadrons strew the ground; bomb-shell and grape and round-shot tore, still on they marched and fired-- fast from each volley grenadier and voltigeur retired. "push on, my household cavalry!" king louis madly cried: to death they rush, but rude their shock--not unavenged they died. on through the camp the column trod--king louis turns his rein: "not yet, my liege," saxe interposed, "the irish troops remain." and fontenoy, famed fontenoy, had been a waterloo were not these exiles ready then, fresh, vehement, and true. iv. "lord clare," he says, "you have your wish; there are your saxon foes!" the marshal almost smiles to see, so furiously he goes! how fierce the look these exiles wear, who're wont to be so gay, the treasured wrongs of fifty years are in their hearts to-day-- the treaty broken, ere the ink wherewith 'twas writ could dry, their plundered homes, their ruined shrines, their women's parting cry, their priesthood hunted down like wolves, their country overthrown-- each looks as if revenge for all were staked on him alone on fontenoy, on fontenoy, nor ever yet elsewhere, rushed on to fight a nobler band than these proud exiles were. v. o'brien's voice is hoarse with joy, as, halting, he commands "fix bay'nets!--charge!" like mountain storm, rush on these fiery bands! thin is the english column now, and faint their volleys grow, yet, must'ring all the strength they have, they make a gallant show. they dress their ranks upon the hill to face that battle-wind-- their bayonets the breakers' foam; like rocks, the men behind! one volley crashes from their line, when, through the surging smoke, with empty guns clutched in their hands, the headlong irish broke. on fontenoy, on fontenoy, hark to that fierce huzza! "revenge, remember limerick! dash down the sacsanach!" vi. like lions leaping at a fold when mad with hunger's pang, right up against the english line the irish exiles sprang: bright was their steel, 'tis bloody now, their guns are filled with gore; through shattered ranks and severed files the trampled flags they tore; the english strove with desperate strength, paused, rallied, staggered, fled-- the green hill-side is matted close with dying and with dead. across the plain, and far away, passed on that hideous wrack, while cavalier and fantassin dash in upon their track. on fontenoy, on fontenoy, like eagles in the sun, with bloody plumes, the irish stand--the field is fought and won! the dugannon convention. . i. the church of dungannon is full to the door, and sabre and spur clash at times on the floor, while helmet and shako are ranged all along, yet no book of devotion is seen in the throng. in the front of the altar no minister stands, but the crimson-clad chief of these warrior bands; and, though solemn the looks and the voices around, you'd listen in vain for a litany's sound. say! what do they hear in the temple of prayer? oh! why in the fold has the lion his lair? ii. sad, wounded, and wan was the face of our isle, by english oppression and falsehood and guile; yet when to invade it a foreign fleet steered, to guard it for england the north volunteered. from the citizen-soldiers the foe fled aghast-- still they stood to their guns when the danger had passed, for the voice of america came o'er the wave, crying: woe to the tyrant, and hope to the slave! indignation and shame through their regiments speed: they have arms in their hands, and what more do they need? iii. o'er the green hills of ulster their banners are spread, the cities of leinster resound to their tread, the valleys of munster with ardour are stirred, and the plains of wild connaught their bugles have heard; a protestant front-rank and catholic rere-- for--forbidden the arms of freemen to bear-- yet foemen and friend are full sure, if need be, the slave for his country will stand by the free. by green flags supported, the orange flags wave, and the soldier half turns to unfetter the slave! iv. more honoured that church of dungannon is now, than when at its altar communicants bow; more welcome to heaven than anthem or prayer are the rites and the thoughts of the warriors there; in the name of all ireland the delegates swore: "we've suffered too long, and we'll suffer no more-- unconquered by force, we were vanquished by fraud; and now, in god's temple, we vow unto god that never again shall the englishman bind his chains on our limbs, or his laws on our mind." v. the church of dungannon is empty once more-- no plumes on the altar, no clash on the floor, but the councils of england are fluttered to see, in the cause of their country, the irish agree; so they give as a boon what they dare not withhold, and ireland, a nation, leaps up as of old, with a name, and a trade, and a flag of her own, and an army to fight for the people and throne. but woe worth the day if to falsehood or fears she surrenders the guns of her brave volunteers! tone's grave. i. in bodenstown churchyard there is a green grave, and wildly along it the winter winds rave; small shelter, i ween, are the ruined walls there, when the storm sweeps down on the plains of kildare. ii. once i lay on that sod--it lies over wolfe tone-- and thought how he perished in prison alone, his friends unavenged, and his country unfreed-- "oh, bitter," i said, "is the patriot's meed; iii. "for in him the heart of a woman combined with a heroic life and a governing mind-- a martyr for ireland--his grave has no stone-- his name seldom named, and his virtues unknown." iv. i was woke from my dream by the voices and tread of a band, who came into the home of the dead; they carried no corpse, and they carried no stone, and they stopped when they came to the grave of wolfe tone. v. there were students and peasants, the wise and the brave, and an old man who knew him from cradle to grave, and children who thought me hard-hearted; for they on that sanctified sod were forbidden to play. vi. but the old man, who saw i was mourning there, said: "we come, sir, to weep where young wolfe tone is laid, and we're going to raise him a monument, too-- a plain one, yet fit for the simple and true." vii. my heart overflowed, and i clasped his old hand, and i blessed him, and blessed every one of his band: "sweet! sweet! 'tis to find that such faith can remain to the cause, and the man so long vanquished and slain." viii. in bodenstown churchyard there is a green grave, and freely around it let winter winds rave-- far better they suit him--the ruin and gloom-- till ireland, a nation, can build him a tomb. nationality. i. a nation's voice, a nation's voice-- it is a solemn thing! it bids the bondage-sick rejoice-- 'tis stronger than a king. 'tis like the light of many stars, the sound of many waves, which brightly look through prison bars, and sweetly sound in caves. yet is it noblest, godliest known, when righteous triumph swells its tone. ii. a nation's flag, a nation's flag-- if wickedly unrolled, may foes in adverse battle drag its every fold from fold. but in the cause of liberty, guard it 'gainst earth and hell; guard it till death or victory-- look you, you guard it well! no saint or king has tomb so proud as he whose flag becomes his shroud. iii. a nation's right, a nation's right-- god gave it, and gave, too, a nation's sword, a nation's might, danger to guard it through. 'tis freedom from a foreign yoke, 'tis just and equal laws, which deal unto the humblest folk, as in a noble's cause. on nations fixed in right and truth, god would bestow eternal youth. iv. may ireland's voice be ever heard amid the world's applause! and never be her flag-staff stirred, but in an honest cause! may freedom be her very breath, be justice ever dear; and never an ennobled death may son of ireland fear! so the lord god will ever smile, with guardian grace, upon our isle. self-reliance. i. though savage force and subtle schemes, and alien rule, through ages lasting, have swept your land like lava streams, its wealth and name and nature blasting; rot not, therefore, in dull despair, nor moan at destiny in far lands! face not your foe with bosom bare, nor hide your chains in pleasure's garlands. the wise man arms to combat wrong, the brave man clears a den of lions, the true man spurns the helot's song; the freeman's friend is self-reliance! ii. though france that gave your exiles bread, your priests a home, your hopes a station, or that young land where first was spread the starry flag of liberation,-- should heed your wrongs some future day, and send you voice or sword to plead 'em, with helpful love their help repay, but trust not even to them for freedom. a nation freed by foreign aid is but a corpse by wanton science convulsed like life, then flung to fade-- the life itself is self-reliance! iii. oh! see your quailing tyrant run to courteous lies, and roman agents, his terror, lest dungannon's sun should rise again with riper radiance. oh! hark the freeman's welcome cheer, and hark your brother sufferers sobbing oh! mark the universe grow clear, oh! mark your spirit's royal throbbing-- 'tis freedom's god that sends such signs, as pledges of his blest alliance; he gives bright hopes to brave designs, and lends his bolts to self-reliance! iv. then, flung alone, or hand in hand, in mirthful hour, or spirit solemn; in lowly toil, or high command, in social hall, or charging column: in tempting wealth, and trying woe, in struggling with a mob's dictation; in bearing back a foreign foe, in training up a troubled nation: still hold to truth, abound in love, refusing every base compliance-- your praise within, your prize above, and live and die in self-reliance! the burial.[ ] why rings the knell of the funeral bell from a hundred village shrines? through broad fingall, where hasten all those long and ordered lines? with tear and sigh they're passing by--the matron and the maid-- has a hero died--is a nation's pride in that cold coffin laid? with frown and curse, behind the hearse, dark men go tramping on-- has a tyrant died, that they cannot hide their wrath till the rites are done? the chant. "_ululu! ululu!_ high on the wind, there's a home for the slave where no fetters can bind. woe, woe to his slayers!"--comes wildly along, with the trampling of feet and the funeral song. and now more clear it swells on the ear; breathe low, and listen, 'tis solemn to hear. "_ululu! ululu!_ wail for the dead. green grow the grass of fingall on his head; and spring-flowers blossom, 'ere elsewhere appearing, and shamrocks grow thick on the martyr for erin. _ululu! ululu!_ soft fall the dew on the feet and the head of the martyred and true." for awhile they tread in silence dread-- then muttering and moaning go the crowd, surging and swaying like mountain cloud, and again the wail comes fearfully loud. the chant. "_ululu! ululu!_ kind was his heart! walk slower, walk slower, too soon we shall part. the faithful and pious, the priest of the lord, his pilgrimage over, he has his reward. by the bed of the sick lowly kneeling, to god with the raised cross appealing-- he seems still to kneel, and he seems still to pray, and the sins of the dying seem passing away. "in the prisoner's cell, and the cabin so dreary, our constant consoler, he never grew weary; but he's gone to his rest, and he's now with the bless'd, where tyrant and traitor no longer molest-- _ululu! ululu!_ wail for the dead! _ululu! ululu!_ here is his bed!" short was the ritual, simple the prayer, deep was the silence, and every head bare; the priest alone standing, they knelt all around, myriads on myriads, like rocks on the ground. kneeling and motionless--"dust unto dust. he died as becometh the faithful and just-- placing in god his reliance and trust." kneeling and motionless--"ashes to ashes"-- hollow the clay on the coffin-lid dashes; kneeling and motionless, wildly they pray, but they pray in their souls, for no gesture have they; stern and standing--oh! look on them now. like trees to one tempest the multitude bow; like the swell of the ocean is rising their vow: the vow. "we have bent and borne, though we saw him torn from his home by the tyrant's crew-- and we bent and bore, when he came once more, though suffering had pierced him through: and now he is laid beyond our aid, because to ireland true-- a martyred man--the tyrant's ban, the pious patriot slew. "and shall we bear and bend for ever, and shall no time our bondage sever and shall we kneel, but battle never, "for our own soil? "and shall our tyrants safely reign on thrones built up of slaves and slain, and nought to us and ours remain "but chains and toil? "no! round this grave our oath we plight, to watch, and labour, and unite, till banded be the nation's might-- "its spirit steeled, "and then, collecting all our force, we'll cross oppression in its course, and die--or all our rights enforce, "on battle field." like an ebbing sea that will come again, slowly retired that host of men; methinks they'll keep some other day the oath they swore on the martyr's clay. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] written on the funeral of the rev. p. j. tyrrell, p.p., of lusk; one of those indicted with o'connell in the government prosecution of . we must not fail. i. we must not fail, we must not fail, however fraud or force assail; by honour, pride, and policy, by heaven itself!--we must be free. ii. time had already thinned our chain, time would have dulled our sense of pain; by service long, and suppliance vile, we might have won our owner's smile. iii. we spurned the thought, our prison burst, and dared the despot to the worst; renewed the strife of centuries, and flung our banner to the breeze. iv. we called the ends of earth to view the gallant deeds we swore to do; they knew us wronged, they knew us brave, and all we asked they freely gave. v. we took the starving peasant's mite to aid in winning back his right, we took the priceless trust of youth; their freedom must redeem our truth. vi. we promised loud, and boasted high, "to break our country's chains, or die;" and, should we quail, that country's name will be the synonym of shame. vii. earth is not deep enough to hide the coward slave who shrinks aside; hell is not hot enough to scathe the ruffian wretch who breaks his faith. viii. but--calm, my soul!--we promised true her destined work our land shall do; thought, courage, patience will prevail! we shall not fail--we shall not fail! o'connell's statue. lines to hogan. chisel the likeness of the chief, not in gaiety, nor grief; change not by your art to stone, ireland's laugh, or ireland's moan. dark her tale, and none can tell its fearful chronicle so well. her frame is bent--her wounds are deep-- who, like him, her woes can weep? he can be gentle as a bride, while none can rule with kinglier pride; calm to hear, and wise to prove, yet gay as lark in soaring love. well it were, posterity should have some image of his glee; that easy humour, blossoming like the thousand flowers of spring! glorious the marble which could show his bursting sympathy for woe: could catch the pathos, flowing wild, like mother's milk to craving child. and oh! how princely were the art could mould his mien, or tell his heart when sitting sole on tara's hill, while hung a million on his will! yet, not in gaiety, nor grief, chisel the image of our chief, nor even in that haughty hour when a nation owned his power. but would you by your art unroll his own, and ireland's secret soul, and give to other times to scan the greatest greatness of the man? fierce defiance let him be hurling at our enemy-- from a base as fair and sure as our love is true and pure; let his statue rise as tall and firm as a castle wall; on his broad brow let there be a type of ireland's history; pious, generous, deep and warm, strong and changeful as a storm; let whole centuries of wrong upon his recollection throng-- strongbow's force, and henry's wile, tudor's wrath, and stuart's guile, and iron strafford's tiger jaws, and brutal brunswick's penal laws; not forgetting saxon faith, not forgetting norman scath, not forgetting william's word, not forgetting cromwell's sword. let the union's fetter vile-- the shame and ruin of our isle-- let the blood of 'ninety-eight and our present blighting fate-- let the poor mechanic's lot, and the peasant's ruined cot, plundered wealth and glory flown, ancient honours overthrown-- let trampled altar, rifled urn, knit his look to purpose stern. mould all this into one thought, like wizard cloud with thunder fraught; still let our glories through it gleam, like fair flowers through a flooded stream, or like a flashing wave at night, bright,--'mid the solemn darkness, bright. let the memory of old days shine through the statesman's anxious face-- dathi's power, and brian's fame, and headlong sarsfield's sword of flame; and the spirit of red hugh, and the pride of 'eighty-two, and the victories he won, and the hope that leads him on! let whole armies seem to fly from his threatening hand and eye. be the strength of all the land like a falchion in his hand, and be his gesture sternly grand. a braggart tyrant swore to smite a people struggling for their right; o'connell dared him to the field, content to die but never yield; fancy such a soul as his, in a moment such as this, like cataract, or foaming tide, or army charging in its pride. thus he spoke, and thus he stood, proffering in our cause his blood. thus his country loves him best-- to image this is your behest. chisel thus, and thus alone, if to man you'd change the stone. the green above the red. air--_irish molly o!_ i. full often when our fathers saw the red above the green, they rose in rude but fierce array, with sabre, pike and _scian_, and over many a noble town, and many a field of dead, they proudly set the irish green above the english red. ii. but in the end throughout the land, the shameful sight was seen-- the english red in triumph high above the irish green; but well they died in breach and field, who, as their spirits fled, still saw the green maintain its place above the english red. iii. and they who saw, in after times, the red above the green were withered as the grass that dies beneath a forest screen; yet often by this healthy hope their sinking hearts were fed, that, in some day to come, the green should flutter o'er the red. iv. sure 'twas for this lord edward died, and wolfe tone sunk serene-- because they could not bear to leave the red above the green; and 'twas for this that owen fought, and sarsfield nobly bled-- because their eyes were hot to see the green above the red. v. so when the strife began again, our darling irish green was down upon the earth, while high the english red was seen; yet still we held our fearless course, for something in us said, "before the strife is o'er you'll see the green above the red." vi. and 'tis for this we think and toil, and knowledge strive to glean, that we may pull the english red below the irish green, and leave our sons sweet liberty, and smiling plenty spread above the land once dark with blood--_the green above the red_! vii. the jealous english tyrant now has banned the irish green, and forced us to conceal it like a something foul and mean; but yet, by heavens! he'll sooner raise his victims from the dead than force our hearts to leave the green, and cotton to the red! viii. we'll trust ourselves, for god is good, and blesses those who lean on their brave hearts, and not upon an earthly king or queen; and, freely as we lift our hands, we vow our blood to shed once and for evermore to raise the green above the red. the vow of tipperary. i. from carrick streets to shannon shore, from slievenamon to ballindeary, from longford pass to gaillte mór, come hear the vow of tipperary. ii. too long we fought for britain's cause, and of our blood were never chary; she paid us back with tyrant laws, and thinned the homes of tipperary. iii. too long with rash and single arm, the peasant strove to guard his eyrie, till irish blood bedewed each farm, and ireland wept for tipperary. iv. but never more we'll lift a hand-- we swear by god and virgin mary! except in war for native land, and _that's_ the vow of tipperary! tipperary. i. let britain boast her british hosts, about them all right little care we; not british seas nor british coasts can match the man of tipperary! ii. tall is his form, his heart is warm, his spirit light as any fairy-- his wrath is fearful as the storm that sweeps the hills of tipperary! iii. lead him to fight for native land, his is no courage cold and wary; the troops live not on earth would stand the headlong charge of tipperary! iv. yet meet him in his cabin rude, or dancing with his dark-haired mary, you'd swear they knew no other mood but mirth and love in tipperary! v. you're free to share his scanty meal, his plighted word he'll never vary-- in vain they tried with gold and steel to shake the faith of tipperary! vi. soft is his _cailin's_ sunny eye, her mien is mild, her step is airy, her heart is fond, her soul is high-- oh! she's the pride of tipperary! vii. let britain brag her motley rag; we'll lift the green more proud and airy-- be mine the lot to bear that flag, and head the men of tipperary! viii. though britain boasts her british hosts, about them all right little care we-- give us, to guard our native coasts, the matchless men of tipperary! the west's asleep. air--_the brink of the white rocks._ i. when all beside a vigil keep, the west's asleep, the west's asleep-- alas! and well may erin weep, when connaught lies in slumber deep. there lake and plain smile fair and free, 'mid rocks--their guardian chivalry-- sing oh! let man learn liberty from crashing wind and lashing sea. ii. that chainless wave and lovely land freedom and nationhood demand-- be sure, the great god never planned, for slumbering slaves, a home so grand. and, long, a brave and haughty race honoured and sentinelled the place-- sing oh! not even their sons' disgrace can quite destroy their glory's trace. iii. for often, in o'connor's van, to triumph dashed each connaught clan-- and fleet as deer the normans ran through corlieu's pass and ardrahan. and later times saw deeds as brave; and glory guards clanricarde's grave-- sing oh! they died their land to save, at aughrim's slopes and shannon's wave. iv. and if, when all a vigil keep, the west's asleep, the west's asleep-- alas! and well may erin weep, that connaught lies in slumber deep. but, hark! some voice like thunder spake: "_the west's awake! the west's awake!_"-- "sing oh! hurra! let england quake, we'll watch till death for erin's sake!" a song for the irish militia. air--_the peacock._ i. the tribune's tongue and poet's pen may sow the seed in prostrate men; but 'tis the soldier's sword alone can reap the crop so bravely sown! no more i'll sing nor idly pine, but train my soul to lead a line-- a soldier's life's the life for me-- a soldier's death, so ireland's free! ii. no foe would fear your thunder words, if 'twere not for your lightning swords-- if tyrants yield when millions pray, 'tis less they link in war array; nor peace itself is safe, but when the sword is sheathed by fighting men-- a soldier's life's the life for me-- a soldier's death, so ireland's free! iii. the rifle brown and sabre bright can freely speak and nobly write-- what prophets preached the truth so well as hofer, brian, bruce, and tell? god guard the creed these heroes taught-- that blood-bought freedom's cheaply bought a soldier's life's the life for me-- a soldier's death, so ireland's free! iv. then, welcome be the bivouac, the hardy stand, and fierce attack, where pikes will tame their carbineers, and rifles thin their bay'neteers, and every field the island through will show "what irishmen can do!" a soldier's life's the life for me-- a soldier's death so ireland's free! v. yet, 'tis not strength and 'tis not steel alone can make the english reel; but wisdom, working day by day, till comes the time for passion's sway-- the patient dint and powder shock, can blast an empire like a rock. a soldier's life's the life for me-- a soldier's death, so ireland's free! vi. the tribune's tongue and poet's pen may sow the seed in slavish men; but 'tis the soldier's sword alone can reap the harvest when 'tis grown. no more i'll sing, no more i'll pine, but train my soul to lead a line-- a soldier's life's the life for me-- a soldier's death, so ireland's free. our own again. i. let the coward shrink aside, we'll have our own again; let the brawling slave deride-- here's for our own again! let the tyrant bribe and lie, march, threaten, fortify, loose his lawyer and his spy-- yet we'll have our own again! let him soothe in silken tone, scold from a foreign throne: let him come with bugles blown-- we shall have our own again! let us to our purpose bide, we'll have our own again! let the game be fairly tried, we'll have our own again! ii. send the cry throughout the land, "who's for our own again?" summon all men to our band,-- why not our own again? rich and poor, and old and young, sharp sword, and fiery tongue, soul and sinew firmly strung-- all to get our own again! brothers strive by brotherhood-- trees in a stormy wood-- riches come from nationhood-- sha'n't we have our own again? munster's woe is ulster's bane! join for our own again-- tyrants rob as well as reign-- we'll have our own again! iii. oft our fathers' hearts it stirred, "rise for our own again!" often passed the signal word, "strike for our own again!" rudely, rashly, and untaught, uprose they, ere they ought, failing, though they nobly fought-- dying for their own again! mind will rule and muscle yield in senate, ship, and field: when we've skill our strength to wield, let us take our own again! by the slave his chain is wrought-- strive for our own again. thunder is less strong than thought-- we'll have our own again! iv. calm as granite to our foes, stand for our own again; till his wrath to madness grows, firm for our own again. bravely hope, and wisely wait, toil, join, and educate; man is master of his fate; we'll enjoy our own again! with a keen constrained thirst-- powder's calm ere it burst-- making ready for the worst-- so we'll get our own again. let us to our purpose bide, we'll have our own again! god is on the righteous side, we'll have our own again! celts and saxons.[ ] i. we hate the saxon and the dane, we hate the norman men-- we cursed their greed for blood and gain, we curse them now again. yet start not, irish-born man! if you're to ireland true, we heed not blood, nor creed, nor clan-- we have no curse for you. ii. we have no curse for you or yours, but friendship's ready grasp, and faith to stand by you and yours unto our latest gasp-- to stand by you against all foes, howe'er, or whence they come, with traitor arts, or bribes, or blows, from england, france, or rome. iii. what matter that at different shrines we pray unto one god? what matter that at different times your fathers won this sod? in fortune and in name we're bound by stronger links than steel; and neither can be safe nor sound but in the other's weal. iv. as nubian rocks, and ethiop sand long drifting down the nile, built up old egypt's fertile land for many a hundred mile, so pagan clans to ireland came, and clans of christendom, yet joined their wisdom and their fame to build a nation from. v. here came the brown phoenician, the man of trade and toil-- here came the proud milesian, a hungering for spoil; and the firbolg and the cymry, and the hard, enduring dane, and the iron lords of normandy, with the saxons in their train. vi. and oh! it were a gallant deed to show before mankind, how every race and every creed might be by love combined-- might be combined, yet not forget the fountains whence they rose, as, filled by many a rivulet, the stately shannon flows. vii. nor would we wreak our ancient feud on belgian or on dane, nor visit in a hostile mood the hearths of gaul or spain; but long as on our country lies the anglo-norman yoke, their tyranny we'll stigmatize, and god's revenge invoke. viii. we do not hate, we never cursed, nor spoke a foeman's word against a man in ireland nursed, howe'er we thought he erred; so start not, irish-born man, if you're to ireland true, we heed not race, nor creed, nor clan, we've hearts and hands for you. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] written in reply to some very beautiful verses printed in the _evening mail_, deprecating and defying the assumed hostility of the irish celts to the _irish_ saxons. orange and green will carry the day. air--_the protestant boys._ i. ireland! rejoice, and england! deplore-- faction and feud are passing away. 'twas a low voice, but 'tis a loud roar, "orange and green will carry the day." orange! orange! green and orange! pitted together in many a fray-- lions in fight! and linked in their might, orange and green will carry the day. orange! orange! green and orange! wave them together o'er mountain and bay. orange and green! our king and our queen! "orange and green will carry the day!" ii. rusty the swords our fathers unsheathed-- william and james are turned to clay-- long did we till the wrath they bequeathed, red was the crop, and bitter the pay! freedom fled us! knaves misled us! under the feet of the foemen we lay-- riches and strength we'll win them at length, for orange and green will carry the day! landlords fooled us; england ruled us, hounding our passions to make us their prey; but, in their spite, the irish unite, and orange and green will carry the day! iii. fruitful our soil where honest men starve; empty the mart, and shipless the bay; out of our want the oligarchs carve; foreigners fatten on our decay! disunited, therefore blighted, ruined and rent by the englishman's sway; party and creed for once have agreed-- orange and green will carry the day! boyne's old water, red with slaughter! now is as pure as an infant at play; so, in our souls, its history rolls, and orange and green will carry the day! iv. english deceit can rule us no more; bigots and knaves are scattered like spray-- deep was the oath the orangeman swore, "orange and green must carry the day!" orange! orange! bless the orange! tories and whigs grew pale with dismay, when from the north burst the cry forth, "orange and green will carry the day!" no surrender! no pretender! never to falter and never betray-- with an amen, we swear it again, orange and green shall carry the day. the lost path. air--_grádh mo chroidhe._ i. sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be, all comfort else has flown; for every hope was false to me, and here i am, alone. what thoughts were mine in early youth! like some old irish song, brimful of love, and life, and truth, my spirit gushed along. ii. i hoped to right my native isle, i hoped a soldier's fame, i hoped to rest in woman's smile and win a minstrel's name-- oh! little have i served my land, no laurels press my brow, i have no woman's heart or hand, nor minstrel honours now. iii. but fancy has a magic power, it brings me wreath and crown, and woman's love, the self-same hour it smites oppression down. sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be, i have no joy beside; oh! throng around, and be to me power, country, fame, and bride. the girl of dunbwy. i. 'tis pretty to see the girl of dunbwy stepping the mountain statelily-- though ragged her gown, and naked her feet, no lady in ireland to match her is meet. ii. poor is her diet, and hardly she lies-- yet a monarch might kneel for a glance of her eyes. the child of a peasant--yet england's proud queen has less rank in her heart, and less grace in her mien. iii. her brow 'neath her raven hair gleams, just as if a breaker spread white 'neath a shadowy cliff-- and love, and devotion, and energy speak from her beauty-proud eye, and her passion-pale cheek. iv. but, pale as her cheek is, there's fruit on her lip, and her teeth flash as white as the crescent moon's tip, and her form and her step like the red-deer's go past-- as lightsome, as lovely, as haughty, as fast. v. i saw her but once, and i looked in her eye, and she knew that i worshipped in passing her by; the saint of the wayside--she granted my prayer, though we spoke not a word, for her mother was there. vi. i never can think upon bantry's bright hills, but her image starts up, and my longing eye fills; and i whisper her softly, "again, love, we'll meet! and i'll lie in your bosom, and live at your feet." blind mary. air--_blind mary._ i. there flows from her spirit such love and delight, that the face of blind mary is radiant with light-- as the gleam from a homestead through darkness will show or the moon glimmer soft through the fast falling snow. ii. yet there's a keen sorrow comes o'er her at times, as an indian might feel in our northerly climes! and she talks of the sunset, like parting of friends, and the starlight, as love, that not changes nor ends. iii. ah! grieve not, sweet maiden, for star or for sun, for the mountains that tower or the rivers that run-- for beauty and grandeur, and glory, and light, are seen by the spirit, and not by the sight. iv. in vain for the thoughtless are sunburst and shade, in vain for the heartless flowers blossom and fade; while the darkness that seems your sweet being to bound is one of the guardians, an eden around! oh! the marriage. air--_the swaggering jig._ i. oh! the marriage, the marriage, with love and _mo bhuachaill_ for me, the ladies that ride in a carriage might envy my marriage to me; for eoghan[ ] is straight as a tower, and tender, and loving, and true; he told me more love in an hour than the squires of the county could do. then, oh! the marriage, etc. ii. his hair is a shower of soft gold, his eye is as clear as the day, his conscience and vote were unsold when others were carried away; his word is as good as an oath, and freely 'twas given to me; oh! sure, 'twill be happy for both the day of our marriage to see. then, oh! the marriage, etc. iii. his kinsmen are honest and kind, the neighbours think much of his skill, and eoghan's the lad to my mind, though he owns neither castle nor mill. but he has a tilloch of land, a horse, and a stocking of coin, a foot for a dance, and a hand in the cause of his country to join. then, oh! the marriage, etc. iv. we meet in the market and fair-- we meet in the morning and night-- he sits on the half of my chair, and my people are wild with delight; yet i long through the winter to skim, though eoghan longs more i can see, when i will be married to him, and he will be married to me. then, oh! the marriage, the marriage, with love and _mo bhuachaill_ for me, the ladies that ride in a carriage, might envy my marriage to me. --------------------------------------------------------------- [ ] _vulgo_, owen, a name frequent among the cymry (welsh). the boatman of kinsale. air--_an cota caol._ i. his kiss is sweet, his word is kind, his love is rich to me; i could not in a palace find a truer heart than he. the eagle shelters not his nest from hurricane and hail, more bravely than he guards my breast-- the boatman of kinsale. ii. the wind that round the fastnet sweeps is not a whit more pure-- the goat that down cnoc sheehy leaps has not a foot more sure. no firmer hand nor freer eye e'er faced an autumn gale-- de courcy's heart is not so high-- the boatman of kinsale. iii. the brawling squires may heed him not, the dainty stranger sneer-- but who will dare to hurt our cot when myles o'hea is here? the scarlet soldiers pass along; they'd like, but fear to rail; his blood is hot, his blow is strong-- the boatman of kinsale. iv. his hooker's in the scilly van when seines are in the foam; but money never made the man, nor wealth a happy home. so, blest with love and liberty, while he can trim a sail, he'll trust in god, and cling to me-- the boatman of kinsale. love and war. i. how soft is the moon on glengariff, the rocks seem to melt with the light: oh! would i were there with dear fanny, to tell her that love is as bright; and nobly the sun of july o'er the waters of adragoole shines-- oh! would that i saw the green banner blaze there over conquering lines. ii. oh! love is more fair than the moonlight, and glory more grand than the sun: and there is no rest for a brave heart, till its bride and its laurels are won; but next to the burst of our banner, and the smile of dear fanny, i crave the moon on the rocks of glengariff-- the sun upon adragoole's wave. my land. i. she is a rich and rare land; oh! she's a fresh and fair land; she is a dear and rare land-- this native land of mine. ii. no men than her's are braver-- her women's hearts ne'er waver; i'd freely die to save her, and think my lot divine. iii. she's not a dull or cold land; no! she's a warm and bold land; oh! she's a true and old land-- this native land of mine. iv. could beauty ever guard her, and virtue still reward her, no foe would cross her border-- no friend within it pine! v. oh! she's a fresh and fair land; oh! she's a true and rare land; yes! she's a rare and fair land-- this native land of mine. the right road. i. let the feeble-hearted pine, let the sickly spirit whine, but work and win be thine, while you've life. god smiles upon the bold-- so, when your flag's unrolled, bear it bravely till you're cold in the strife. ii. if to rank or fame you soar, out your spirit frankly pour-- men will serve you and adore, like a king. woo your girl with honest pride, till you've won her for your bride-- then to her, through time and tide, ever cling. iii. never under wrongs despair; labour long, and everywhere, link your countrymen, prepare, and strike home. thus have great men ever wrought, thus must greatness still be sought, thus laboured, loved, and fought greece and rome. my grave. shall they bury me in the deep, where wind-forgetting waters sleep? shall they dig a grave for me, under the green-wood tree? or on the wild heath, where the wilder breath of the storm doth blow? oh, no! oh, no! shall they bury me in the palace tombs, or under the shade of cathedral domes? sweet 'twere to lie on italy's shore; yet not there--nor in greece, though i love it more, in the wolf or the vulture my grave shall i find? shall my ashes career on the world-seeing wind? shall they fling my corpse in the battle mound, where coffinless thousands lie under the ground? just as they fall they are buried so-- oh, no! oh, no! no! on an irish green hill-side, on an opening lawn--but not too wide; for i love the drip of the wetted trees-- i love not the gales, but a gentle breeze to freshen the turf--put no tombstone there, but green sods decked with daisies fair; nor sods too deep, but so that the dew, the matted grass-roots may trickle through. be my epitaph writ on my country's mind, "he served his country, and loved his kind." oh! 'twere merry unto the grave to go, if one were sure to be buried so. an oration on the life and services of thomas paine by robert g. ingersoll delivered by robert g. ingersoll, at fairbury, ill., on the evening of january th, , peoria, ill. . thomas paine to speak the praises of the brave and thoughtful dead, is to me a labor of gratitude and love. through all the centuries gone, the mind of man has been beleaguered by the mailed hosts of superstition. slowly and painfully has advanced the army of deliverance. hated by those they wished to rescue, despised by those they were dying to save, these grand soldiers, these immortal deliverers, have fought without thanks, labored without applause, suffered without pity, and they have died execrated and abhorred. for the good of mankind they accepted isolation, poverty, and calumny. they gave up all, sacrificed all, lost all but truth and self-respect. one of the bravest soldiers in this army was thomas paine; and for one, i feel indebted to him for the liberty we are enjoying this day. born among the poor, where children are burdens; in a country where real liberty was unknown; where the privileges of class were guarded with infinite jealousy, and the rights of the individual trampled beneath the feet of priests and nobles; where to advocate justice was treason; where intellectual freedom was infidelity, it is wonderful that the idea of true liberty ever entered his brain. poverty was his mother--necessity his master. he had more brains than books; more sense than education; more courage than politeness; more strength than polish. he had no veneration for old mistakes--no admiration for ancient lies. he loved the truth for the truth's sake, and for man's sake. he saw oppression on every hand; injustice everywhere--hypocrisy at the altar, venality on the bench, tyranny on the throne; and with a splendid courage he espoused the cause of the weak against the strong--of the enslaved many against the titled few. in england he was nothing. he belonged to the lower classes. there was no avenue open for him. the people hugged their chains, and the whole power of the government was ready to crush any man who endeavored to strike a blow for the right. at the age of thirty-seven, thomas paine left england for america with the high hope of being instrumental in the establishment of a free government. in his own country he could accomplish nothing. those two vultures--church and state--were ready to tear in pieces and devour the heart of any one who might deny their divine right to enslave the world. upon his arrival in this country, he found himself possessed of a letter of introduction, signed by another infidel, the illustrious franklin. this, and his native genius, constituted his entire capital; and he needed no more. he found the colonies clamoring for justice; whining about their grievances; upon their knees at the foot of the throne, imploring that mixture of idiocy and insanity, george the iii. by the grace of god, for a restoration of their ancient privileges. they were not endeavoring to become free men, but were trying to soften the heart of their master. they were perfectly willing to make brick pharaoh would furnish the straw. the colonists wished for, hoped for, and prayed for reconciliation. they did not dream of independence. paine gave to the world his "common sense." it was the first argument for separation, the first assault upon the british _form_ of government, the first blow for a republic, and it roused our fathers like a trumpet's blast. he was the first to perceive the destiny of the new world. no other pamphlet ever published accomplished such wonderful results. it was filled with argument, reason, persuasion, and unanswerable logic. it opened a new world. it filled the present with hope and the future with honor. everywhere the people responded, and in a few months the continental congress declared the colonies free and independent states. a new nation was born. it is simple justice to say that paine did more to cause the declaration of independence than any other man. neither should it be forgotten that his attacks upon great britain, were also attacks upon monarchy; and while he convinced the people that the colonies ought to separate from the mother country, he also proved to them that a free government is the best that can be instituted among men. in my judgment thomas paine was the best political writer that ever lived. "what he wrote was pure nature, and his soul and his pen ever went together." ceremony, pageantry, and all the paraphernalia of power, had no effect upon him. he examined into the why and wherefore of things. he was perfectly radical in his mode of thought. nothing short of the bed-rock satisfied him. his enthusiasm for what he believed to be right knew no bounds. during all the dark scenes of the revolution, never for one moment did he despair. year after year his brave words were ringing through the land, and by the bivouac fires the weary soldiers read the inspiring words of "common sense," filled with ideas sharper than their swords, and consecrated themselves anew to the cause of freedom. paine was not content with having aroused the spirit of independence, but he gave every energy of his soul to keep that spirit alive. he was with the army. he shared its defeats, its dangers, and its glory. when the situation became desperate, when gloom settled upon all, he gave them the "crisis." it was a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, leading the way to freedom, honor, and glory. he shouted to them, "these are the times that try men's souls. the summer soldier, and the sunshine patriot, will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman." to those who wished to put the war off to some future day, with a lofty and touching spirit of self-sacrifice he said: "every generous parent should say, 'if there must be war let it be in my day that my child may have peace.'" to the cry that americans were rebels, he replied: "he that rebels against reason is a real rebel; but he that in defence of reason rebels against tyranny has a better title to 'defender of the faith' than george the third." some said it was not to the interest of the colonies to be free. paine answered this by saying, "to know whether it be the interest of the continent to be independent, we need ask only this simple, easy question: 'is it the interest of a man to be a boy all his life?'" he found many who would listen to nothing, and to them he said, "that to argue with a man who has renounced his reason is like giving medicine to the dead." this sentiment ought to adorn the walls of every orthodox church. there is a world of political wisdom in this:--"england lost her liberty in a long chain of right reasoning from wrong principles;" and there is real discrimination in saying, "the greeks and romans were strongly possessed of the spirit of liberty, but not the principles, for at the time that they were determined not to be slaves themselves, they employed their power to enslave the rest of mankind." in his letter to the british people, in which he tried to convince them that war was not to their interest, occurs the following passage brimful of common sense: "war never can be the interest of a trading nation any more than quarreling can be profitable to a man in business. but to make war with those who trade with us is like setting a bull-dog upon a customer at the shop-door." the writings of paine fairly glitter with simple, compact, logical statements, that carry conviction to the dullest and most prejudiced. he had the happiest possible way of putting the case; in asking questions in such a way that they answer themselves, and in stating his premises so clearly that the deduction could not be avoided. day and night he labored for america; month after month, year after year, he gave himself to the great cause, until there was "a government of the people and for the people," and until the banner of the stars floated over a continent redeemed, and consecrated to the happiness of mankind. at the close of the revolution, no one stood higher in america than thomas paine. the best, the wisest, the most patriotic, were his friends and admirers; and had he been thinking only of his own good he might have rested from his toils and spent the remainder of his life in comfort, and in ease. he could have been what the world is pleased to call "respectable." he could have died surrounded by clergymen, warriors and statesmen. at his death there would have been an imposing funeral, miles of carriages, civic societies, salvos of artillery, a nation in mourning, and above all, a splendid monument covered with lies. he chose rather to benefit mankind. at that time the seeds sown by the great infidels were beginning to bear fruit in france. the people were beginning to think. the eighteenth century was crowning its gray-hairs with the wreath of progress. on every hand science was bearing testimony against the church. voltaire had filled europe with light; d'holbach was giving to the elite of paris the principles containe'd in his "system of nature." the encyclopædists had attacked superstition with information for the masses. the foundation of things began to be examined. a few had the courage to keep their shoes on and let the bush burn. miracles began to get scarce. everywhere the people began to inquire. america had set an example to the world. the word liberty began to be in the mouths of men, and they began to wipe the dust from their knees. the dawn of a new day had appeared. thomas paine went to france. into the new movement he threw all his energies. his fame had gone before him, and he was welcomed as a friend of the human race, and as a champion of free government. he had never relinquished his intention of pointing out to his countrymen the defects, absurdities and abuses of the english government. for this purpose he composed and published his greatest political work, "the rights of man." this work should be read by every man and woman. it is concise, accurate, natural, convincing, and unanswerable. it shows great thought; an intimate knowledge of the various forms of government; deep insight into the very springs of human action, and a courage that compels respect and admiration. the most difficult political problems are solved in a few sentences. the venerable arguments in favor of wrong are refuted with a question--answered with a word. for forcible illustration, apt comparison, accuracy and clearness of statement, and absolute thoroughness, it has never been excelled. the fears of the administration were aroused, and paine was prosecuted for libel and found guilty; and yet there is not a sentiment in the entire work that will not challenge the admiration of every civilized man. it is a magazine of political wisdom, an arsenal of ideas, and an honor, not only to thomas paine, but to human nature itself. it could have been written only by the man who had the generosity, the exalted patriotism, the goodness to say, "the world is my country, and to do good my religion." there is in all the utterances of the world no grander, no sublimer sentiment. there is no creed that can be compared with it for a moment. it should be wrought in gold, adorned with jewels, and impressed upon every human heart: "the world is my country, and to do good my religion." in , paine was elected by the department of calais as their representative in the national assembly. so great was his popularity in france that he was selected about the same time by the people of no less than four departments. upon taking his place in the assembly he was appointed as one of a committee to draft a constitution for france. had the french people taken the advice of thomas paine there would have been no "reign of terror." the streets of paris would not have been filled with blood. the revolution would have been the grandest success of the world. the truth is that paine was too conservative to suit the leaders of the french revolution. they, to a great extent, were carried away by hatred, and a desire to destroy. they had suffered so long, they had borne so much, that it was impossible for them to be moderate in the hour of victory. besides all this, the french people had been so robbed by the government, so degraded by the church, that they were not fit material with which to construct a republic. many of the leaders longed to establish a beneficent and just government, but the people asked for revenge. paine was filled with a real love for mankind. his philanthrophy was boundless. he wished to destroy monarchy--not the monarch. he voted for the destruction of tyranny, and against the death of the king. he wished to establish a government on a new basis; one that would forget the past; one that would give privileges to none, and protection to all. in the assembly, where nearly all were demanding the execution of the king--where to differ from the majority was to be suspected, and where to be suspected was almost certain death, thomas paine had the courage, the goodness and the justice to vote against death. to vote against the execution of the king was a vote against his own life. this was the sublimity of devotion to principle. for this he was arrested, imprisoned and doomed to death. search the records of the world and you will find but few sublimer acts than that of thomas paine voting against the king's death. he, the hater of despotism, the abhorrer of monarchy, the champion of the rights of man, the republican, accepting death to save the life of a deposed tyrant--of a throneless king. this was the last grand act of his political life--the sublime conclusion of his political career. all his life he had been the disinterested friend of man. he had labored--not for money, not for fame, but for the general good. he had aspired to no office; had asked no recognition of his services, but had ever been content to labor as a common soldier in the army of progress. confining his efforts to no country, looking upon the world as his field of action, filled with a genuine love for the right, he found himself imprisoned by the very people he had striven to save. had his enemies succeeded in bringing him to the block, he would have escaped the calumnies and the hatred of the christian world. in this country, at least, he would have ranked with the proudest names. on the anniversary of the declaration his name would have been upon the lips of all the orators, and his memory in the hearts of all the people. thomas paine had not finished his career. he had spent his life thus far in destroying the power of kings, and now he turned his attention to the priests. he knew that every abuse had been embalmed in scripture--that every outrage was in partnership with some holy text. he knew that the throne skulked behind the altar, and both behind a pretended revelation from god. by this time he had found that it was of little use to free the body and leave the mind in chains. he had explored the foundations of despotism and had found them infinitely rotten. he had dug under the throne, and it occurred to him that he would take a look behind the altar. the result of his investigations was given to the world in the "age of reason." from the moment of its publication he became infamous. he was calumniated beyond measure. to slander him was to secure the thanks of the church. all his services were instantly forgotten, disparaged or denied. he was shunned as though he had been a pestilence. most of his old friends forsook him. he was regarded as a moral plague, and at the bare mention of his name the bloody hands of the church were raised in horror. he was denounced as the most despicable of men. not content with following him to his grave, they pursued him after death with redoubled fury, and recounted with infinite gusto and satisfaction the supposed horrors of his death-bed; gloried in the fact that he was forlorn and friendless, and gloated like fiends over what they supposed to be the agonizing remorse of his lonely death. it is wonderful that all his services were thus forgotten. it is amazing that one kind word did not fall from some pulpit; that some one did not accord to him, at least--honesty. strange, that in the general denunciation some one did not remember his labor for liberty, his devotion to principle, his zeal for the rights of his fellow men. he had, by brave and splendid effort, associated his name with the cause of progress. he had made it impossible to write the history of political freedom with his name left out. he was one of the creators of light; one of the heralds of the dawn. he hated tyranny in the name of kings, and in the name of god, with every drop of his noble blood. he believed in liberty and justice, and in the sacred doctrine of human equality. under these divine banners he fought the battle of his life. in both worlds he offered his blood for the good of man. in the wilderness of america, in the french assembly, in the sombre cell waiting for death, he was the same unflinching, unwavering friend of his race; the same undaunted champion of universal freedom. and for this he has been hated; for this the church has violated even his grave. this is enough to make one believe that nothing is more natural than for men to devour their benefactors. the people in all ages have crucified and glorified. whoever, lifts his voice against abuses, whoever arraigns the past at the bar of the present, whoever asks the king to show his commission, or questions the authority of the priest, will be denounced as the enemy of man and god. in all ages reason has been regarded as the enemy of religion. nothing has been considered so pleasing to the deity as a total denial of the authority of your own mind. self-reliance has been thought a deadly sin; and the idea of living and dying without the aid and consolation of superstition has always horrified the church. by some unaccountable infatuation belief has been, and still is considered of immense importance. all religions have been based upon the idea that god will forever reward the true believer, and eternally damn the man who doubts or denies. belief is regarded as the one essential thing. to practice justice, to love mercy, is not enough. you must believe in some incomprehensible creed. you must say, "once one is three, and three times one is one." the man who practiced every virtue, but failed to believe, was execrated. nothing so outrages the feelings of the church as a moral unbeliever--nothing so horrible as a charitable atheist. when paine was born, the world was religious. the pulpit was the real throne, and the churches were making every effort to crush ont of the brain the idea that it had the right to think. the splendid saying of lord bacon that "the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making or wooing of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, are the sovereign good of human nature," has been, and ever will be, rejected by religionists. intellectual liberty, as a matter of necessity, forever destroys the idea that belief is either praise or blame-worthy, and is wholly inconsistent with every creed in christendom. paine recognized this truth. he also saw that as long as the bible was considered inspired, this infamous doctrine of the virtue of belief would be believed and preached. he examined the scriptures for himself, and found them filled with cruelty, absurdity, and immorality. he again made up his mind to sacrifice himself for the good of his fellow men. he commenced with the assertion, "that any system of religion that has anything in it that shocks the mind of a child cannot be a true system." what a beautiful, what a tender sentiment! no wonder that the church began to hate him. he believed in one god, and no more. after this life he hoped for happiness. he believed that true religion consisted in doing justice, loving mercy, in endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy, and in offering to god the fruit of the heart. he denied the inspiration of the scriptures. this was his crime. he contended that it is a contradiction in terms to call anything a revelation that comes to us at second-hand, either verbally or in writing. he asserted that revelation is necessarily limited to the first communication, and that after that it is only an account of something which another person says was a revelation to him. we have only his word for it, as it was never made to us. this argument never has been and probably never will be answered. he denied the divine origin of christ, and showed conclusively that the pretended prophecies of the old testament had no reference to him whatever; and yet he believed that christ was a virtuous and amiable man; that the morality he taught and practiced was of the most benevolent and elevated character, and that it had not been exceeded by any. upon this point he entertained the same sentiments now held by the unitarians, and in fact by all the most enlightened christians. in his time the church believed and taught that every word in the bible was absolutely true. since his day it has been proven false in its cosmogony, false in its astronomy, false in its chronology, false in its history, and so far as the old testament is concerned, false in almost everything. there are but few, if any, scientific men who apprehend that the bible is literally true. who on earth at this day would pretend to settle any scientific question by a text from the bible? the old belief is confined to the ignorant and zealous. the church itself will before long be driven to occupy the position of thomas paine. the best minds of the orthodox world, to-day, are endeavoring to prove the existence of a personal deity. all other questions occupy a minor place. you are no longer asked to swallow the bible whole, whale, jonah and all. you are simply required to believe in god, and pay your pew-rent. there is not now an enlightened minister in the world who will seriously contend that samson's strength was in his hair, nor that the necromancers of egypt could turn water into blood, and pieces of wood into serpents. these follies have passed away, and the only reason that the religious world can now have for disliking paine is that they have been forced to adopt so many of his opinions. paine thought the barbarities of the old testament inconsistent with what he deemed the real character of god. he believed that murder, massacre, and indiscriminate slaughter, had never been commanded by the deity. he regarded much of the bible as childish, unimportant, and foolish. the scientific world entertains the same opinion. paine attacked the bible precisely in the same spirit in which he had attacked the pretensions of kings. he used the same weapons. all the pomp in the world could not make him cower. his reason knew no "holy of holies," except the abode of truth. the sciences were then in their infancy. the attention of the really learned had not been directed to an impartial examination of our pretended revelation. it was accepted by most as a matter of course. the church was all-powerful; and no one, unless thoroughly imbued with the spirit of self-sacrifice, thought for a moment of disputing the fundamental doctrines of christianity. the infamous doctrine that salvation depends upon belief--upon a mere intellectual conviction--was then believed and preached. to doubt was to secure the damnation of your soul. this absurd and devilish doctrine shocked the common sense of thomas paine, and he denounced it with the fervor of honest indignation. this doctrine, although infinitely ridiculous, has been nearly universal, and has been as hurtful as senseless. for the overthrow of the infamous tenet, paine exerted; all his strength. he left few arguments to be used by those who should come after him, and he used none that have been refuted. the combined wisdom and genius of all mankind cannot possibly conceive of an argument against liberty of thought. neither can they show why any one should be punished, either in this world or another, for acting honestly in accordance with reason; and yet, a doctrine with every possible argument against it has been, and still is, believed and defended by the entire orthodox world. can it be possible that we have been endowed with, reason simply that our souls may be caught in its toils and snares, that we may be led by its false' and delusive glare out of the narrow path that leads to joy into the broad way of everlasting death? is it possible that we have been given reason simply that we may through faith ignore its deductions, and avoid its conclusions? ought the sailor to throw away his compass and depend entirely upon the fog? if reason is not to be depended upon in matters of religion, that is to say, in respect of our duties to the deity, why should it be relied upon in matters respecting the rights of our fellows? why should we throw away the laws given to moses by god himself, and have the audacity to make some of our own? how dare we drown the thunders of sinai by calling the ayes and noes in a petty legislature? if reason can determine what is merciful, what is just, the duties of man to man, what more do we want either in time or eternity? down, forever down, with any religion that requires upon its ignorant altar the sacrifice of the goddess reason, that compels her to abdicate forever the shining throne of the soul, strips from her form the imperial purple; snatches from her hand the sceptre of thought and makes her the bondwoman of a senseless faith! if a man should tell you that he had the most beautiful painting in the world, and after taking you where it was should insist upon having your eyes shut, you would likely suspect, either that he had no painting or that it was some pitiable daub. should he tell you that he was a most excellent performer on the violin, and yet refuse to play unless your ears were stopped, you would think, to say the least of it, that he had an odd way of convincing you of his musical ability. but would his conduct be any more wonderful than that of a religionist who asks that before examining his creed you will have the kindness to throw away your reason? the first gentleman says, "keep your eyes shut, my picture will bear everything but being seen;" "keep your ears stopped, my music objects to nothing but being heard." the last says, "away with your reason, my religion dreads nothing but being understood." so far as i am concerned i most cheerfully admit that most christians are honest, and most ministers sincere. we do not attack them; we attack their creed. we accord to them the same rights that we ask for ourselves. we believe that their doctrines are hurtful. we believe that the frightful text, "he that believes shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned," has covered the earth with blood. it has filled the heart with arrogance, cruelty and murder. it has caused the religious wars; bound hundreds of thousands to the stake; founded inquisitions; filled dungeons; invented instruments of torture; taught the mother to hate her child; imprisoned the mind; filled the world with ignorance; persecuted the lovers of wisdom; built the monasteries and convents; made happiness a crime, investigation a sin, and self-reliance a blasphemy. it has poisoned the springs of learning; misdirected the energies of the world; filled all countries with want; housed the people in hovels; fed them with famine; and but for the efforts of a few brave infidels it would have taken the world back to the midnight of barbarism, and left the heavens without a star. the maligners of paine say that he had no right to attack this doctrine because he was unacquainted with the dead languages; and for this reason, it was a piece of pure impudence in him to investigate the scriptures. is it necessary to understand hebrew in order to know that cruelty is not a virtue, and that murder is inconsistent with infinite goodness, and that eternal punishment can be inflicted upon man only by an eternal fiend? is it really essential to conjugate the greek verbs before you can make up your mind as to the probability of dead people getting out of their graves? must one be versed in latin before he is entitled to express his opinion as to the genuineness of a pretended revelation from god? common sense belongs exclusively to no tongue. logic is not confined to, nor has it been buried with, the dead languages. paine attacked the bible as it is translated. if the translation is wrong, let its defenders correct it. the christianity of paine's day is not the christianity of our time. there has been a great improvement since then. one hundred and fifty years ago the foremost preachers of our time would have perished at the stake, a universalist would have been torn in pieces in england, scotland, and america. unitarians would have found themselves in the stocks, pelted by the rabble with dead cats, after which their ears would have been cut off, their tongues bored, and their foreheads branded. less than one hundred and fifty years ago the following law was in force in maryland: "be it enacted by the right honorable, the lord proprie- "tor, by and with the advice and consent of his lordship's "governor, and the upper and lower houses of the assembly, "and the authority of the same: "that if any person shall hereafter, within this province, "wittingly, maliciously, and advisedly, by writing or speaking, "blaspheme or curse god, or deny our saviour, jesus christ to "be the son of god, or shall deny the holy trinity, the father, "son, and holy ghost, or the god-head of any of the three "persons, or the unity of the god-head, or shall utter any pro- "fane words concerning the holy trinity, or any of the persons "thereof, and shall thereof be convict by verdict, shall, for the "first offence be bored through the tongue, and fined twenty "pounds to be levied of his body. and for the second offence, "the offender shall be stigmatized by burning in the forehead "with the letter b, and fined forty pounds. and that for the "third offence, the offender shall suffer death without the "benefit of clergy. the strange thing about this law is, that it has never been repealed, and is still in force in the district of columbia. laws like this were in force in most of the colonies, and in all countries where the church had power. in the old testament, the death penalty was attached to hundreds of offences. it has been the same in all christian countries. to-day, in civilized governments, the death penalty is attached only to murder and treason; and in some, it has been entirely abolished. what a commentary upon the divine humbugs of the world! in the day of thomas paine the church was ignorant, bloody and relentless. in scotland the "kirk" was at the summit of its power. it was a full sister of the spanish inquisition. it waged war upon human nature. it was the enemy of happiness, the hater of joy, and the despiser of religious liberty. it taught parents to murder their children rather than to allow them to propagate error. if the mother held opinions of which the infamous "kirk" disapproved, her children were taken from her arms, her babe from her very bosom, and she was not allowed to see them, or to write them a word. it would not allow ship-wrecked sailors to be rescued from drowning on sunday. it sought to annihilate pleasure, to pollute the heart by filling it with religious cruelty and gloom, and to change mankind into a vast horde of pious, heartless fiends. one of the most famous scotch divines said: "the kirk holds that religious toleration is not far from blasphemy." and this same scotch kirk denounced, beyond measure, the man who had the moral grandeur to say, "the world is my country, and to do good my religion." and this same kirk abhorred the man who said, "any system of religion that shocks the mind of a child cannot be a true system." at that time nothing so delighted the church as the beauties of endless torment, and listening to the weak wailings of damned infants struggling in the slimy coils and poison folds of the worm that never dies. about the beginning of the nineteenth century, a boy by the name of thomas aikenhead, was indicted and tried at edinburgh for having denied the inspiration of the scriptures, and for having, on several occasions, when cold, wished himself in hell that he might get warm. notwithstanding the poor boy recanted and begged for mercy, he was found guilty and hanged. his body was thrown in a hole at the foot of the scaffold and covered with stones. prosecutions and executions like this were common in every christian country, and all of them were based upon the belief that an intellectual conviction is a crime. no wonder the church hated and traduced the author of the "age of reason." england was filled with puritan gloom and episcopal ceremony. all religious conceptions were of the grossest nature. the ideas of crazy fanatics and extravagant poets were taken as sober facts. milton had clothed christianity in the soiled and faded finery of the gods--had added to the story of christ the fables of mythology. he gave to the protestant church the most outrageously material ideas of the deity. he turned all the angels into soldiers--made heaven a battlefield, put christ in uniform, and described god as a militia general. his works were considered by the protestants nearly as sacred as the bible itself, and the imagination of the people was thoroughly polluted by the horrible imagery, the sublime absurdity of the blind milton. heaven and hell were realities--the judgment-day was expected--books of account would be opened. every man would hear the charges against him read. god was supposed to sit on a golden throne, surrounded by the tallest angels, with harps in their hands and crowns on their heads. the goats would be thrust into eternal fire on the left, while the orthodox sheep on the right, were to gambol on sunny slopes forever and forever. the nation was profoundly ignorant, and consequently extremely religious, so far as belief was concerned. in europe, liberty was lying chained in the inquisition---her white bosom stained with blood. in the new world the puritans had been hanging and burning in the name of god, and selling white quaker children into slavery in the name of christ, who said, "suffer little children to come unto me." under such conditions progress was impossible. some one had to lead the way. the church is, and always has been, incapable of a forward movement. religion always looks back. the church has already reduced spain to a guitar, italy to a hand-organ, and ireland to exile. some one not connected with the church had to attack the monster that was eating out the heart of the world. some one had to sacrifice himself for the good of all. the people were in the most abject slavery; their manhood had been taken from them by pomp, by pageantry and power. progress is born of doubt and inquiry. the church never doubts--never inquires. to doubt is heresy--to inquire is to admit that you do not know--the church does neither. more than a century ago catholicism, wrapped in robes red with the innocent blood of millions, holding in her frantic clutch crowns and sceptres, honors and gold, the keys of heaven and hell, trampling beneath her feet the liberties of nations, in the proud moment of almost universal dominion, felt within her heartless breast the deadly dagger of voltaire. from that blow the church never can recover. livid with hatred she launched her eternal anathema at the great destroyer, and ignorant protestants have echoed the curse of rome. in our country the church was all-powerful, and although divided into many sects, would instantly unite to repel a common foe. paine struck the first grand blow. the "age of reason" did more to undermine the power of the protestant church than all other books then known. it furnished an immense amount of food for thought. it was written for the average mind, and is a straight forward, honest investigation of the bible, and of the christian system. paine did not falter from the first page to the last. he gives you his candid thought, and candid thoughts are always valuable. the "age of reason" has liberalized us all. it put arguments in the mouths of the people; it put the church on the defensive; it enabled somebody in every village to corner the parson; it made the world wiser, and the church better; it took power from the pulpit and divided it among the pews. just in proportion that the human race has advanced, the church has lost power. there is no exception to this rule. no nation ever materially advanced that held strictly to the religion of its founders. no nation ever gave itself wholly to the control of the church without losing its power, its honor, and existence. every church pretends to have found the exact truth. this is the end of progress. why pursue that which you have? why investigate when you know? every creed is a rock in running water: humanity sweeps by it. every creed cries to the universe, "halt!" a creed is the ignorant past bullying the enlightened present. the ignorant are not satisfied with what can be demonstrated. science is too slow for them, and so they invent creeds. they demand completeness. a sublime segment, a grand fragment, are of no value to them. they demand the complete circle--the entire structure. in music they want a melody with a recurring accent at measured periods. in religion they insist upon immediate answers to the questions of creation and destiny. the alpha and omega of all things must be in the alphabet of their superstition. a religion that cannot answer every question, and guess every conundrum is, in their estimation, worse than worthless. they desire a kind of theological dictionary--a religious ready reckoner, together with guide-boards at all crossings and turns. they mistake impudence for authority, solemnity for wisdom, and pathos for inspiration. the beginning and the end are what they demand. the grand flight of the eagle is nothing to them. they want the nest in which he was hatched, and especially the dry limb upon which he roosts. anything that can be learned is hardly worth knowing. the present is considered of no value in itself. happiness must not be expected this side of the clouds, and can only be attained by self-denial and faith; not self-denial for the good of others, but for the salvation of your own sweet self. paine denied the authority of bibles and creeds--this was his crime--and for this the world shut the door in his face, and emptied its slops upon him from the windows. i challenge the world to show that thomas paine ever wrote one line, one word in favor of tyranny--in favor of immorality; one line, one word against what he believed to be for the highest and best interest of mankind; one line, one word against justice, charity, or liberty, and yet he has been pursued as though he had been a fiend from hell. his memory has been execrated as though he had murdered some uriah for his wife; driven some hagar into the desert to starve with his child upon her bosom; defiled his own daughters; ripped open with the sword the sweet bodies of loving and innocent women; advised one brother to assassinate another; kept a harem with seven hundred wives, and three hundred concubines, or had persecuted christians even unto strange cities. the church has pursued paine to deter others. no effort has been in any age of the world spared to crush out opposition. the church used painting, music and architecture, simply to degrade mankind. but there are men that nothing can awe. there have been at all times brave spirits that dared even the gods. some proud head has always been above the waves. in every age some diogenes has sacrificed to all the gods. true genius never cowers, and there is always some samson feeling for the pillars of authority. cathedrals and domes, and chimes and chants--temples frescoed and groined and carved, and gilded with gold--altars and tapers, and paintings of virgin and babe--censer and chalice, chasuble, paten and alb--organs and anthems and incense rising to the winged and blest--maniple, amice and stole--crosses and crosiers, tiaras and crowns--mitres and missals and masses--rosaries, relics and robes--martyrs and saints, and windows stained as with the blood of christ, never for one moment awed the brave, proud spirit of the infidel. he knew that all the pomp and glitter had been purchased with liberty--that priceless jewel of the soul. in looking at the cathedral he remembered the dungeon. the music of the organ was as not loud enough to drown the clank of fetters. he could not forget that the taper had lighted the fagot. he knew that the cross adorned the hilt of the sword, and so where others worshiped, he wept and scorned. the doubter, the investigator, the infidel, have been the saviors of liberty. this truth is beginning to be realized, and the intellectual are beginning to honor the brave thinkers of the past. but the church is as unforgiving as ever, and still wonders why any infidel should be wicked enough to endeavor to destroy her power. i will tell the church why. you have imprisoned the human mind; you have been the enemy of liberty; you have burned us at the stake--wasted us upon slow fires--torn our flesh with iron; you have covered us with chains--treated us as outcasts; you have filled the world with fear; you have taken our wives and children from our arms; you have confiscated our property; you have denied us the right to testify in courts of justice; you have branded us with infamy; you have torn out our tongues; you have refused us burial. in the name of your religion, you have robbed us of every right; and after having inflicted upon us every evil that can be inflicted in this world, you have fallen upon your knees, and with clasped hands, implored your god to torment us forever. can you wonder that we hate your doctrines--that we despise your creeds--that we feel proud to know that we are beyond your power--that we are free in spite of you--that we can express our honest thought, and that the whole world is grandly rising into the blessed light? can you wonder that we point with pride to the fact, that infidelity has ever been found battling for the rights of man, for the liberty of conscience, and for the happiness of all? can you wonder that we are proud to know, that we have always been disciples of reason, and soldiers of freedom; that we have denounced tyranny and superstition, and have kept our hands unstained with human blood? we deny that religion is the end or object of this life. when it is so considered it becomes destructive of happiness--the real end of life. it becomes a hydra-headed monster, reaching in terrible coils from the heavens, and thrusting its thousand fangs into the bleeding, quivering hearts of men. it devours their substance, builds palaces for god, (who dwells not in temples made with hands), and allows his children to die in huts and hovels. it fills the earth with mourning, heaven with hatred, the present with fear, and all the future with despair. virtue is a subordination of the passions to the intellect. it is to act in accordance with your highest convictions. it does not consist in believing, but in doing. this is the sublime truth that the infidels in all ages have uttered. they have handed the torch from one to the other through all the years that have fled. upon the altar of reason they have kept the sacred fire, and through the long midnight of faith, they fed the divine flame. infidelity is liberty; all religion is slavery. in every creed, man is the slave of god--woman is the slave of man, and the sweet children are the slaves of all. we do not want creeds; we want knowledge--we want happiness. and yet we are told by the church that we have accomplished nothing; that we are simply destroyers; that we tear down without building again. is it nothing to free the mind? is it nothing to civilize mankind? is it nothing to fill the world with light, with discovery, with science? is it nothing to dignify man and exalt the intellect? is it nothing to grope your way into the dreary prisons, the damp and dropping dungeons, the dark and silent cells, where the souls of men are chained to the floors of stone, to greet them like a ray of light, like the song of a bird, the murmur of a stream, to see the dull eyes open and grow slowly bright, to feel yourself grasped by the shrunken and unused hands, and hear yourself thanked by a strange and hollow voice? is it nothing to conduct these souls gradually into the blessed light of day--to let them see again the happy fields, the sweet, green earth, and hear the everlasting music of the waves? is it nothing to make men wipe the dust from their swollen knees, the tears from their blanched and furrowed cheeks? is it a small thing to reave the heavens of an insatiate monster and write upon the eternal dome, glittering with stars, the grand word--freedom? is it a small thing to quench the flames of hell with the holy tears of pity--to unbind the martyr from the stake--break all the chains--put out the fires of civil war--stay the sword of the fanatic, and tear the bloody hands of the church from the white throat of science? is it a small thing to make men truly free--to destroy the dogmas of ignorance, prejudice and power--the poisoned fables of superstition, and drive from the beautiful face of the earth the fiend of fear? it does seem as though the most zealous christian must at times entertain some doubt as to the divine origin of his religion. for eighteen hundred years the doctrine has been preached. for more than a thousand years the church had, to a great extent, control of the civilized world, and what has been the result? are the christian nations patterns of charity and forbearance? on the contrary, their principal business is to destroy each other. more than five millions of christians are trained, educated, and drilled to murder their fellow-christians. every nation is groaning under a vast debt incurred in carrying on war against other christians, or defending themselves from christian assault. the world is covered with forts to protect christians from christians; and every sea is covered with iron monsters ready to blow christian brains into eternal froth. millions upon millions are annually expended in the effort to construct still more deadly and terrible engines of death. industry is crippled, honest toil is robbed, and even beggary is taxed to defray the expenses of christian warfare. there must be some other way to reform this world. we have tried creed, and dogma and fable, and they have failed; and they have failed in all the nations dead. the people perish for the lack of knowledge. nothing but education--scientific education--can benefit mankind. we must find out the laws of nature and conform to them. we need free bodies and free minds--free labor and free thought--chainless hands, and fetterless brains. free labor will give us wealth. free thought will give us truth. we need men with moral courage to speak and write their real thoughts, and to stand by their convictions, even to the very death. we need have no fear of being too radical. the future will verify all grand and brave predictions. paine was splendidly in advance of his time; but he was orthodox compared with the infidels of to-day. science, the great iconoclast, has been busy since , and by the highway of progress are the broken images of the past. on every hand the people advance. the vicar of god has been pushed from the throne of the cæsars, and upon the roofs of the eternal city falls once more the shadow of the eagle. all has been accomplished by the heroic few. the men of science have explored heaven and earth, and with infinite patience have furnished the facts. the brave thinkers have used them. the gloomy caverns of superstition have been transformed into temples of thought, and the demons of the past are the angels of to-day. science took a handful of sand, constructed a telescope, and with it explored the starry depths of heaven. science wrested from the gods their thunderbolts; and now the electric spark freighted with thought and love, flashes under all the waves of the sea. science took a tear from the cheek of unpaid labor, converted it into steam, created a giant that turns with tireless arm, the countless wheels of toil. thomas paine was one of the intellectual heroes--one of the men to whom we are indebted. his name is associated forever with the great republic. as long as free government exists he will be remembered, admired and honored. he lived a long, laborious and useful life. the world is better for his having lived. for the sake of truth he accepted hatred and reproach for his portion. he ate the bitter bread of sorrow. his friends were untrue to him because he was true to himself, and true to them. he lost the respect of what is called society, but he kept his own. his life is what the world calls failure, and what history calls success. if to love your fellow men more than self is goodness, thomas paine was good. if to be in advance of your time, to be a pioneer in the direction of right, is greatness, thomas paine was great. if to avow your principles and discharge your duty in the presence of death is heroic, thomas paine was a hero. at the age of seventy-three, death touched his tired heart. he died in the land his genius defended--under the flag he gave to the skies. slander cannot touch him now--hatred cannot reach him more. he sleeps in the sanctuary of the tomb, beneath the quiet of the stars. a few more years--a few more brave men--a few more rays of light, and mankind will venerate the memory of him who said: "any system of religion that shocks the mind of a child cannot be a true system." "the world is my country, and to do good my religion." the theory of social revolutions by brooks adams prefatory note the first chapter of the following book was published, in substantially its present form, in the _atlantic monthly_ for april, . i have to thank the editor for his courtesy in assenting to my wish to reprint. the other chapters have not appeared before. i desire also to express my obligations to my learned friend, dr. m.m. bigelow, who, most kindly, at my request, read chapters two and three, which deal with the constitutional law, and gave me the benefit of his most valuable criticism. further than this i have but one word to add. i have written in support of no political movement, nor for any ephemeral purpose. i have written only to express a deep conviction which is the result of more than twenty years of study, and reflection upon this subject. brooks adams. quincy, massachusetts, may , . contents i. the collapse of capitalistic government ii. the limitations of the judicial function iii. american courts as legislative chambers iv. the social equilibrium v. political courts vi. inferences index [not included in this etext] the theory of social revolutions chapter i the collapse of capitalistic government civilization, i apprehend, is nearly synonymous with order. however much we may differ touching such matters as the distribution of property, the domestic relations, the law of inheritance and the like, most of us, i should suppose, would agree that without order civilization, as we understand it, cannot exist. now, although the optimist contends that, since man cannot foresee the future, worry about the future is futile, and that everything, in the best possible of worlds, is inevitably for the best, i think it clear that within recent years an uneasy suspicion has come into being that the principle of authority has been dangerously impaired, and that the social system, if it is to cohere, must be reorganized. so far as my observation has extended, such intuitions are usually not without an adequate cause, and if there be reason for anxiety anywhere, it surely should be in the united states, with its unwieldy bulk, its heterogeneous population, and its complex government. therefore, i submit, that an hour may not be quite wasted which is passed in considering some of the recent phenomena which have appeared about us, in order to ascertain if they can be grouped together in any comprehensible relation. about a century ago, after, the american and french revolutions and the napoleonic wars, the present industrial era opened, and brought with it a new governing class, as every considerable change in human environment must bring with it a governing class to give it expression. perhaps, for lack of a recognized name, i may describe this class as the industrial capitalistic class, composed in the main of administrators and bankers. as nothing in the universe is stationary, ruling classes have their rise, culmination, and decline, and i conjecture that this class attained to its acme of popularity and power, at least in america, toward the close of the third quarter of the nineteenth century. i draw this inference from the fact that in the next quarter resistance to capitalistic methods began to take shape in such legislation as the interstate commerce law and the sherman act, and almost at the opening of the present century a progressively rigorous opposition found for its mouthpiece the president of the union himself. history may not be a very practical study, but it teaches some useful lessons, one of which is that nothing is accidental, and that if men move in a given direction, they do so in obedience to an impulsion as automatic as is the impulsion of gravitation. therefore, if mr. roosevelt became, what his adversaries are pleased to call, an agitator, his agitation had a cause which is as deserving of study as is the path of a cyclone. this problem has long interested me, and i harbor no doubt not only that the equilibrium of society is very rapidly shifting, but that mr. roosevelt has, half-automatically, been stimulated by the instability about him to seek for a new centre of social gravity. in plain english, i infer that he has concluded that industrialism has induced conditions which can no longer be controlled by the old capitalistic methods, and that the country must be brought to a level of administrative efficiency competent to deal with the strains and stresses of the twentieth century, just as, a hundred and twenty-five years ago, the country was brought to an administrative level competent for that age, by the adoption of the constitution. acting on these premises, as i conjecture, whether consciously worked out or not, mr. roosevelt's next step was to begin the readjustment; but, i infer, that on attempting any correlated measures of reform, mr. roosevelt found progress impossible, because of the obstruction of the courts. hence his instinct led him to try to overleap that obstruction, and he suggested, without, i suspect, examining the problem very deeply, that the people should assume the right of "recalling" judicial decisions made in causes which involved the nullifying of legislation. what would have happened had mr. roosevelt been given the opportunity to thoroughly formulate his ideas, even in the midst of an election, can never be known, for it chanced that he was forced to deal with subjects as vast and complex as ever vexed a statesman or a jurist, under difficulties at least equal to the difficulties of the task itself. if the modern mind has developed one characteristic more markedly than another, it is an impatience with prolonged demands on its attention, especially if the subject be tedious. no one could imagine that the new york press of to-day would print the disquisitions which hamilton wrote in in support of the constitution, or that, if it did, any one would read them, least of all the lawyers; and yet mr. roosevelt's audience was emotional and discursive even for a modern american audience. hence, if he attempted to lead at all, he had little choice but to adopt, or at least discuss, every nostrum for reaching an immediate millennium which happened to be uppermost; although, at the same time, he had to defend himself against an attack compared with which any criticism to which hamilton may have been subjected resembled a caress. the result has been that the progressive movement, bearing mr. roosevelt with it, has degenerated into a disintegrating rather than a constructive energy, which is, i suspect, likely to become a danger to every one interested in the maintenance of order, not to say in the stability of property. mr. roosevelt is admittedly a strong and determined man whose instinct is arbitrary, and yet, if my analysis be sound, we see him, at the supreme moment of his life, diverted from his chosen path toward centralization of power, and projected into an environment of, apparently, for the most part, philanthropists and women, who could hardly conceivably form a party fit to aid him in establishing a vigorous, consolidated, administrative system. he must have found the pressure toward disintegration resistless, and if we consider this most significant phenomenon, in connection with an abundance of similar phenomena, in other countries, which indicate social incoherence, we can hardly resist a growing apprehension touching the future. nor is that apprehension allayed if, to reassure ourselves, we turn to history, for there we find on every side long series of precedents more ominous still. were all other evidence lacking, the inference that radical changes are at hand might be deduced from the past. in the experience of the english-speaking race, about once in every three generations a social convulsion has occurred; and probably such catastrophes must continue to occur in order that laws and institutions may be adapted to physical growth. human society is a living organism, working mechanically, like any other organism. it has members, a circulation, a nervous system, and a sort of skin or envelope, consisting of its laws and institutions. this skin, or envelope, however, does not expand automatically, as it would had providence intended humanity to be peaceful, but is only fitted to new conditions by those painful and conscious efforts which we call revolutions. usually these revolutions are warlike, but sometimes they are benign, as was the revolution over which general washington, our first great "progressive," presided, when the rotting confederation, under his guidance, was converted into a relatively excellent administrative system by the adoption of the constitution. taken for all in all, i conceive general washington to have been the greatest man of the eighteenth century, but to me his greatness chiefly consists in that balance of mind which enabled him to recognize when an old order had passed away, and to perceive how a new order could be best introduced. joseph story was ten years old in when the constitution was adopted; his earliest impressions, therefore, were of the confederation, and i know no better description of the interval just subsequent to the peace of , than is contained in a few lines in his dissenting opinion in the charles river bridge case:-- "in order to entertain a just view of this subject, we must go back to that period of general bankruptcy, and distress and difficulty ( ).... the union of the states was crumbling into ruins, under the old confederation. agriculture, manufactures, and commerce were at their lowest ebb. there was infinite danger to all the states from local interests and jealousies, and from the apparent impossibility of a much longer adherence to that shadow of a government, the continental congress. and even four years afterwards, when every evil had been greatly aggravated, and civil war was added to other calamities, the constitution of the united states was all but shipwrecked in passing through the state conventions."[ ] this crisis, according to my computation, was the normal one of the third generation. between and the british empire had physically outgrown its legal envelope, and the consequence was a revolution. the thirteen american colonies, which formed the western section of the imperial mass, split from the core and drifted into chaos, beyond the constraint of existing law. washington was, in his way, a large capitalist, but he was much more. he was not only a wealthy planter, but he was an engineer, a traveller, to an extent a manufacturer, a politician, and a soldier, and he saw that, as a conservative, he must be "progressive" and raise the law to a power high enough to constrain all these thirteen refractory units. for washington understood that peace does not consist in talking platitudes at conferences, but in organizing a sovereignty strong enough to coerce its subjects. the problem of constructing such a sovereignty was the problem which washington solved, temporarily at least, without violence. he prevailed not only because of an intelligence and elevation of character which enabled him to comprehend, and to persuade others, that, to attain a common end, all must make sacrifices, but also because he was supported by a body of the most remarkable men whom america has ever produced. men who, though doubtless in a numerical minority, taking the country as a whole, by sheer weight of ability and energy, achieved their purpose. yet even washington and his adherents could not alter the limitations of the human mind. he could postpone, but he could not avert, the impact of conflicting social forces. in he compromised, but he did not determine the question of sovereignty. he eluded an impending conflict by introducing courts as political arbitrators, and the expedient worked more or less well until the tension reached a certain point. then it broke down, and the question of sovereignty had to be settled in america, as elsewhere, on the field of battle. it was not decided until appomattox. but the function of the courts in american life is a subject which i shall consider hereafter. if the invention of gunpowder and printing in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries presaged the reformation of the sixteenth, and if the industrial revolution of the eighteenth was the forerunner of political revolutions throughout the western world, we may well, after the mechanical and economic cataclysm of the nineteenth, cease wondering that twentieth-century society should be radical. never since man first walked erect have his relations toward nature been so changed, within the same space of time, as they have been since washington was elected president and the parisian mob stormed the bastille. washington found the task of a readjustment heavy enough, but the civilization he knew was simple. when washington lived, the fund of energy at man's disposal had not very sensibly augmented since the fall of rome. in the eighteenth, as in the fourth century, engineers had at command only animal power, and a little wind and water power, to which had been added, at the end of the middle ages, a low explosive. there was nothing in the daily life of his age which made the legal and administrative principles which had sufficed for justinian insufficient for him. twentieth-century society rests on a basis not different so much in degree, as in kind, from all that has gone before. through applied science infinite forces have been domesticated, and the action of these infinite forces upon finite minds has been to create a tension, together with a social acceleration and concentration, not only unparalleled, but, apparently, without limit. meanwhile our laws and institutions have remained, in substance, constant. i doubt if we have developed a single important administrative principle which would be novel to napoleon, were he to live again, and i am quite sure that we have no legal principle younger than justinian. as a result, society has been squeezed, as it were, from its rigid eighteenth-century legal shell, and has passed into a fourth dimension of space, where it performs its most important functions beyond the cognizance of the law, which remains in a space of but three dimensions. washington encountered a somewhat analogous problem when dealing with the thirteen petty independent states, which had escaped from england; but his problem was relatively rudimentary. taking the theory of sovereignty as it stood, he had only to apply it to communities. it was mainly a question of concentrating a sufficient amount of energy to enforce order in sovereign social units. the whole social detail remained unchanged. our conditions would seem to imply a very considerable extension and specialization of the principle of sovereignty, together with a commensurate increment of energy, but unfortunately the twentieth-century american problem is still further complicated by the character of the envelope in which this highly volatilized society is theoretically contained. to attain his object, washington introduced a written organic law, which of all things is the most inflexible. no other modern nation has to consider such an impediment. moneyed capital i take to be stored human energy, as a coal measure is stored solar energy; and moneyed capital, under the stress of modern life, has developed at once extreme fluidity, and an equivalent compressibility. thus a small number of men can control it in enormous masses, and so it comes to pass that, in a community like the united states, a few men, or even, in certain emergencies, a single man, may become clothed with various of the attributes of sovereignty. sovereign powers are powers so important that the community, in its corporate capacity, has, as society has centralized, usually found it necessary to monopolize them more or less absolutely, since their possession by private persons causes revolt. these powers, when vested in some official, as, for example, a king or emperor, have been held by him, in all western countries at least, as a trust to be used for the common welfare. a breach of that trust has commonly been punished by deposition or death. it was upon a charge of breach of trust that charles i, among other sovereigns, was tried and executed. in short, the relation of sovereign and subject has been based either upon consent and mutual obligation, or upon submission to a divine command; but, in either case, upon recognition of responsibility. only the relation of master and slave implies the status of sovereign power vested in an unaccountable superior. nevertheless, it is in a relation somewhat analogous to the latter, that the modern capitalist has been placed toward his fellow citizens, by the advances in applied science. an example or two will explain my meaning. high among sovereign powers has always ranked the ownership and administration of highways. and it is evident why this should have been so. movement is life, and the stoppage of movement is death, and the movement of every people flows along its highways. an invader has only to cut the communications of the invaded to paralyze him, as he would paralyze an animal by cutting his arteries or tendons. accordingly, in all ages and in all lands, down to the nineteenth century, nations even partially centralized have, in their corporate capacity, owned and cared for their highways, either directly or through accountable agents. and they have paid for them by direct taxes, like the romans, or by tolls levied upon traffic, as many mediaeval governments preferred to do. either method answers its purpose, provided the government recognizes its responsibility; and no government ever recognized this responsibility more fully than did the autocratic government of ancient rome. so the absolute régime of eighteenth-century france recognized this responsibility when louis xvi undertook to remedy the abuse of unequal taxation, for the maintenance of the highways, by abolishing the corvée. toward the middle of the nineteenth century, the application, by science, of steam to locomotion, made railways a favorite speculation. forthwith, private capital acquired these highways, and because of the inelasticity of the old law, treated them as ordinary chattels, to be administered for the profit of the owner exclusively. it is true that railway companies posed as public agents when demanding the power to take private property; but when it came to charging for use of their ways, they claimed to be only private carriers, authorized to bargain as they pleased. indeed, it grew to be considered a mark of efficient railroad management to extract the largest revenue possible from the people, along the lines of least resistance; that is, by taxing most heavily those individuals and localities which could least resist. and the claim by the railroads that they might do this as a matter of right was long upheld by the courts,[ ] nor have the judges even yet, after a generation of revolt and of legislation, altogether abandoned this doctrine. the courts--reluctantly, it is true, and principally at the instigation of the railways themselves, who found the practice unprofitable--have latterly discountenanced discrimination as to persons, but they still uphold discrimination as to localities.[ ] now, among abuses of sovereign power, this is one of the most galling, for of all taxes the transportation tax is perhaps that which is most searching, most insidious, and, when misused, most destructive. the price paid for transportation is not so essential to the public welfare as its equality; for neither persons nor localities can prosper when the necessaries of life cost them more than they cost their competitors. in towns, no cup of water can be drunk, no crust of bread eaten, no garment worn, which has not paid the transportation tax, and the farmer's crops must rot upon his land, if other farmers pay enough less than he to exclude him from markets toward which they all stand in a position otherwise equal. yet this formidable power has been usurped by private persons who have used it purely selfishly, as no legitimate sovereign could have used it, and by persons who have indignantly denounced all attempts to hold them accountable, as an infringement of their constitutional rights. obviously, capital cannot assume the position of an irresponsible sovereign, living in a sphere beyond the domain of law, without inviting the fate which has awaited all sovereigns who have denied or abused their trust. the operation of the new york clearing-house is another example of the acquisition of sovereign power by irresponsible private persons. primarily, of course, a clearing-house is an innocent institution occupied with adjusting balances between banks, and has no relation to the volume of the currency. furthermore, among all highly centralized nations, the regulation of the currency is one of the most jealously guarded of the prerogatives of sovereignty, because all values hinge upon the relation which the volume of the currency bears to the volume of trade. yet, as everybody knows, in moments of financial panic, the handful of financiers who, directly or indirectly, govern the clearing-house, have it in their power either to expand or to contract the currency, by issuing or by withdrawing clearing-house certificates, more effectually perhaps than if they controlled the treasury of the united states. nor does this power, vast as it is, at all represent the supremacy which a few bankers enjoy over values, because of their facilities for manipulating the currency and, with the currency, credit; facilities, which are used or abused entirely beyond the reach of the law. bankers, at their conventions and through the press, are wont to denounce the american monetary system, and without doubt all that they say, and much more that they do not say, is true; and yet i should suppose that there could be little doubt that american financiers might, after the panic of , and before the administration of mr. taft, have obtained from congress, at most sessions, very reasonable legislation, had they first agreed upon the reforms they demanded, and, secondly, manifested their readiness, as a condition precedent to such reforms, to submit to effective government supervision in those departments of their business which relate to the inflation or depression of values. they have shown little inclination to submit to restraint in these particulars, nor, perhaps, is their reluctance surprising, for the possession by a very small favored class of the unquestioned privilege, whether actually used or not, at recurring intervals, of subjecting the debtor class to such pressure as the creditor may think necessary, in order to force the debtor to surrender his property to the creditor at the creditor's price, is a wonder beside which aladdin's lamp burns dim. as i have already remarked, i apprehend that sovereignty is a variable quantity of administrative energy, which, in civilizations which we call advancing, tends to accumulate with a rapidity proportionate to the acceleration of movement. that is to say, the community, as it consolidates, finds it essential to its safety to withdraw, more or less completely, from individuals, and to monopolize, more or less strictly, itself, a great variety of functions. at one stage of civilization the head of the family administers justice, maintains an armed force for war or police, wages war, makes treaties of peace, coins money, and, not infrequently, wears a crown, usually of a form to indicate his importance in a hierarchy. at a later stage of civilization, companies of traders play a great part. such aggregations of private and irresponsible adventurers have invaded and conquered empires, founded colonies, and administered justice to millions of human beings. in our own time, we have seen the assumption of many of the functions of these and similar private companies by the sovereign. we have seen the east india company absorbed by the british parliament; we have seen the railways, and the telephone and the telegraph companies, taken into possession, very generally, by the most progressive governments of the world; and now we have come to the necessity of dealing with the domestic-trade monopoly, because trade has fallen into monopoly through the centralization of capital in a constantly contracting circle of ownership. among innumerable kinds of monopolies none have been more troublesome than trade monopolies, especially those which control the price of the necessaries of life; for, so far as i know, no people, approximately free, have long endured such monopolies patiently. nor could they well have done so without constraint by overpowering physical force, for the possession of a monopoly of a necessary of life by an individual, or by a small privileged class, is tantamount to investing a minority, contemptible alike in numbers and in physical force, with an arbitrary and unlimited power to tax the majority, not for public, but for private purposes. therefore it has not infrequently happened that persistence in adhering to and in enforcing such monopolies has led, first, to attempts at regulation, and, these failing, to confiscation, and sometimes to the proscription of the owners. an example of such a phenomenon occurs to me which, just now, seems apposite. in the earlier middle ages, before gunpowder made fortified houses untenable when attacked by the sovereign, the highways were so dangerous that trade and manufactures could only survive in walled towns. an unarmed urban population had to buy its privileges, and to pay for these a syndicate grew up in each town, which became responsible for the town ferm, or tax, and, in return, collected what part of the municipal expenses it could from the poorer inhabitants. these syndicates, called guilds, as a means of raising money, regulated trade and fixed prices, and they succeeded in fixing prices because they could prevent competition within the walls. presently complaints became rife of guild oppression, and the courts had to entertain these complaints from the outset, to keep some semblance of order; but at length the turmoil passed beyond the reach of the courts, and parliament intervened. parliament not only enacted a series of statutes regulating prices in towns, but supervised guild membership, requiring trading companies to receive new members upon what parliament considered to be reasonable terms. nevertheless, friction continued. with advances in science, artillery improved, and, as artillery improved, the police strengthened until the king could arrest whom he pleased. then the country grew safe and manufactures migrated from the walled and heavily taxed towns to the cheap, open villages, and from thence undersold the guilds. as the area of competition broadened, so the guilds weakened, until, under edward vi, being no longer able to defend themselves, they were ruthlessly and savagely plundered; and fifty years later the court of king's bench gravely held that a royal grant of a monopoly had always been bad at common law.[ ] though the court's law proved to be good, since it has stood, its history was fantastic; for the trade-guild was the offspring of trade monopoly, and a trade monopoly had for centuries been granted habitually by the feudal landlord to his tenants, and indeed was the only means by which an urban population could finance its military expenditure. then, in due course, the crown tried to establish its exclusive right to grant monopolies, and finally parliament--or king, lords, and commons combined, being the whole nation in its corporate capacity, --appropriated this monopoly of monopolies as its supreme prerogative. and with parliament this monopoly has ever since remained. in fine, monopolies, or competition in trade, appear to be recurrent social phases which depend upon the ratio which the mass and the fluidity of capital, or, in other words, its energy, bears to the area within which competition is possible. in the middle ages, when the town walls bounded that area, or when, at most, it was restricted to a few lines of communication between defensible points garrisoned by the monopolists,--as were the staple towns of england which carried on the wool trade with the british fortified counting-houses in flanders,--a small quantity of sluggish capital sufficed. but as police improved, and the area of competition broadened faster than capital accumulated and quickened, the competitive phase dawned, whose advent is marked by darcy _v_. allein, decided in the year . finally, the issue between monopoly and free trade was fought out in the american revolution, for the measure which precipitated hostilities was the effort of england to impose her monopoly of the eastern trade upon america. the boston tea party occurred on december , . then came the heyday of competition with the acceptance of the theories of adam smith, and the political domination in england, towards , of the manchester school of political economy. about forty years since, in america at least, the tide would appear once more to have turned. i fix the moment of flux, as i am apt to do, by a lawsuit. this suit was the morris run coal company _v._ barclay coal company,[ ] which is the first modern anti-monopoly litigation that i have met with in the united states. it was decided in pennsylvania in ; and since , while the area within which competition is possible has been kept constant by the tariff, capital has accumulated and has been concentrated and volatilized until, within this republic, substantially all prices are fixed by a vast moneyed mass. this mass, obeying what amounts to being a single volition, has its heart in wall street, and pervades every corner of the union. no matter what price is in question, whether it be the price of meat, or coal, or cotton cloth, or of railway transportation, or of insurance, or of discounts, the inquirer will find the price to be, in essence, a monopoly or fixed price; and if he will follow his investigation to the end, he will also find that the first cause in the complex chain of cause and effect which created the monopoly in that mysterious energy which is enthroned on the hudson. the presence of monopolistic prices in trade is not always a result of conscious agreement; more frequently, perhaps, it is automatic, and is an effect of the concentration of capital in a point where competition ceases, as when all the capital engaged in a trade belongs to a single owner. supposing ownership to be enough restricted, combination is easier and more profitable than competition; therefore combination, conscious or unconscious, supplants competition. the inference from the evidence is that, in the united states, capital has reached, or is rapidly reaching, this point of concentration; and if this be true, competition cannot be enforced by legislation. but, assuming that competition could still be enforced by law, the only effect would be to make the mass of capital more homogeneous by eliminating still further such of the weaker capitalists as have survived. ultimately, unless indeed society is to dissolve and capital migrate elsewhere, all the present phenomena would be intensified. nor would free trade, probably, have more than a very transitory effect. in no department of trade is competition freer than in the atlantic passenger service, and yet in no trade is there a stricter monopoly price. the same acceleration of the social movement which has caused this centralization of capital has caused the centralization of another form of human energy, which is its negative: labor unions organize labor as a monopoly. labor protests against the irresponsible sovereignty of capital, as men have always protested against irresponsible sovereignty, declaring that the capitalistic social system, as it now exists, is a form of slavery. very logically, therefore, the abler and bolder labor agitators proclaim that labor levies actual war against society, and that in that war there can be no truce until irresponsible capital has capitulated. also, in labor's methods of warfare the same phenomena appear as in the autocracy of capital. labor attacks capitalistic society by methods beyond the purview of the law, and may, at any moment, shatter the social system; while, under our laws and institutions, society is helpless. few persons, i should imagine, who reflect on these phenomena, fail to admit to themselves, whatever they may say publicly, that present social conditions are unsatisfactory, and i take the cause of the stress to be that which i have stated. we have extended the range of applied science until we daily use infinite forces, and those forces must, apparently, disrupt our society, unless we can raise the laws and institutions which hold society together to an energy and efficiency commensurate to them. how much vigor and ability would be required to accomplish such a work may be measured by the experience of washington, who barely prevailed in his relatively simple task, surrounded by a generation of extraordinary men, and with the capitalistic class of america behind him. without the capitalistic class he must have failed. therefore one most momentous problem of the future is the attitude which capital can or will assume in this emergency. that some of the more sagacious of the capitalistic class have preserved that instinct of self-preservation which was so conspicuous among men of the type of washington, is apparent from the position taken by the management of the united states steel company, and by the republican minority of the congressional committee which recently investigated the steel company; but whether such men very strongly influence the genus to which they belong is not clear. if they do not, much improvement in existing conditions can hardly be anticipated. if capital insists upon continuing to exercise sovereign powers, without accepting responsibility as for a trust, the revolt against the existing order must probably continue, and that revolt can only be dealt with, as all servile revolts must be dealt with, by physical force. i doubt, however, if even the most ardent and optimistic of capitalists would care to speculate deeply upon the stability of any government capital might organize, which rested on the fundamental principle that the american people must be ruled by an army. on the other hand any government to be effective must be strong. it is futile to talk of keeping peace in labor disputes by compulsory arbitration, if the government has not the power to command obedience to its arbitrators' decree; but a government able to constrain a couple of hundred thousand discontented railway employees to work against their will, must differ considerably from the one we have. nor is it possible to imagine that labor will ever yield peaceful obedience to such constraint, unless capital makes equivalent concessions,--unless, perhaps, among other things, capital consents to erect tribunals which shall offer relief to any citizen who can show himself to be oppressed by the monopolistic price. in fine, a government, to promise stability in the future, must apparently be so much more powerful than any private interest, that all men will stand equally before its tribunals; and these tribunals must be flexible enough to reach those categories of activity which now lie beyond legal jurisdiction. if it be objected that the american people are incapable of an effort so prodigious, i readily admit that this may be true, but i also contend that the objection is beside the issue. what the american people can or cannot do is a matter of opinion, but that social changes are imminent appears to be almost certain. though these changes cannot be prevented, possibly they may, to a degree, be guided, as washington guided the changes of . to resist them perversely, as they were resisted at the chicago convention of , can only make the catastrophe, when it comes, as overwhelming as was the consequent defeat of the republican party. approached thus, that convention of has more than a passing importance, since it would seem to indicate the ordinary phenomenon, that a declining favored class is incapable of appreciating an approaching change of environment which must alter its social status. i began with the proposition that, in any society which we now understand, civilization is equivalent to order, and the evidence of the truth of the proposition is, that amidst disorder, capital and credit, which constitute the pith of our civilization, perish first. for more than a century past, capital and credit have been absolute, or nearly so; accordingly it has not been the martial type which has enjoyed sovereignty, but the capitalistic. the warrior has been the capitalists' servant. but now, if it be true that money, in certain crucial directions, is losing its purchasing power, it is evident that capitalists must accept a position of equality before the law under the domination of a type of man who can enforce obedience; their own obedience, as well as the obedience of others. indeed, it might occur, even to some optimists, that capitalists would be fortunate if they could certainly obtain protection for another fifty years on terms as favorable as these. but at chicago, capitalists declined even to consider receding to a secondary position. rather than permit the advent of a power beyond their immediate control, they preferred to shatter the instrument by which they sustained their ascendancy. for it is clear that roosevelt's offence in the eyes of the capitalistic class was not what he had actually done, for he had done nothing seriously to injure them. the crime they resented was the assertion of the principle of equality before the law, for equality before the law signified the end of privilege to operate beyond the range of law. if this principle which roosevelt, in theory at least, certainly embodied, came to be rigorously enforced, capitalists perceived that private persons would be precluded from using the functions of sovereignty to enrich themselves. there lay the parting of the ways. sooner or later almost every successive ruling class has had this dilemma in one of its innumerable forms presented to them, and few have had the genius to compromise while compromise was possible. only a generation ago the aristocracy of the south deliberately chose a civil war rather than admit the principle that at some future day they might have to accept compensation for their slaves. a thousand other instances of similar incapacity might be adduced, but i will content myself with this alone. briefly the precedents induce the inference that privileged classes seldom have the intelligence to protect themselves by adaptation when nature turns against them, and, up to the present moment, the old privileged class in the united states has shown little promise of being an exception to the rule. be this, however, as it may, and even assuming that the great industrial and capitalistic interests would be prepared to assist a movement toward consolidation, as their ancestors assisted washington, i deem it far from probable that they could succeed with the large american middle class, which naturally should aid, opposed, as it seems now to be, to such a movement. partially, doubtless, this opposition is born of fear, since the lesser folk have learned by bitter experience that the powerful have yielded to nothing save force, and therefore that their only hope is to crush those who oppress them. doubtless, also, there is the inertia incident to long tradition, but i suspect that the resistance is rather due to a subtle and, as yet, nearly unconscious instinct, which teaches the numerical majority, who are inimical to capital, that the shortest and easiest way for them to acquire autocratic authority is to obtain an absolute mastery over those political tribunals which we call courts. also that mastery is being by them rapidly acquired. so long as our courts retain their present functions no comprehensive administrative reform is possible, whence i conclude that the relation which our courts shall hold to politics is now the fundamental problem which the american people must solve, before any stable social equilibrium can be attained. theodore roosevelt's enemies have been many and bitter. they have attacked his honesty, his sobriety, his intelligence, and his judgment, but very few of them have hitherto denied that he has a keen instinct for political strife. only of late has this gift been doubted, but now eminent politicians question whether he did not make a capital mistake when he presented the reform of our courts of law, as expounders of the constitution, as one of his two chief issues, in his canvass for a nomination for a third presidential term. after many years of study of, and reflection upon, this intricate subject i have reached the conviction that, though mr. roosevelt may have erred in the remedy which he has suggested, he is right in the principle which he has advanced, and in my next chapter i propose to give the evidence and explain the reasons which constrain me to believe that american society must continue to degenerate until confusion supervenes, if our courts shall remain semi-political chambers. footnotes: [ ] charles river bridge _v_. warren bridge, ii peters, , . [ ] fitchburg r.r. _v_. gage, gray , and innumerable cases following it. [ ] see the decisions of the commerce court on the long and short-haul clause. atchison, t.&s.f. by. _v_. united states, federal rep. . [ ] darcy _v_. allein, rep. . [ ] pa. . chapter ii the limitations of the judicial function taking the human race collectively, its ideal of a court of justice has been the omniscient and inexorable judgment seat of god. individually, on the contrary, they have dearly loved favor. hence the doctrine of the intercession of the saints, which many devout persons have sincerely believed could be bought by them for money. the whole development of civilization may be followed in the oscillation of any given society between these two extremes, the many always striving to so restrain the judiciary that it shall be unable to work the will of the favored few. on the whole, success in attaining to ideal justice has not been quite commensurate with the time and effort devoted to solving the problem, but, until our constitutional experiment was tried in america, i think it had been pretty generally admitted that the first prerequisite to success was that judges should be removed from political influences. for the main difficulty has been that every dominant class, as it has arisen, has done its best to use the machinery of justice for its own benefit. no argument ever has convinced like a parable, and a very famous story in the bible will illustrate the great truth, which is the first lesson that a primitive people learns, that unless the judge can be separated from the sovereign, and be strictly limited in the performance of his functions by a recognized code of procedure, the public, as against the dominant class, has, in substance, no civil rights. the kings of israel were judges of last resort. solomon earned his reputation for wisdom in the cause in which two mothers claimed the same child. they were indeed both judge and jury. also they were prosecuting officers. also they were sheriffs. in fine they exercised unlimited judicial power, save in so far as they were checked by the divine interference usually signified through some prophet. now david was, admittedly, one of the best sovereigns and judges who ever held office in jerusalem, and, in the days of david, nathan was the leading prophet of the dominant political party. "and it came to pass in an eveningtide, that david arose from off his bed, and walked upon the roof of the king's house: and from the roof he saw a woman washing herself; and the woman was very beautiful to look upon. and david sent and enquired after the woman. and one said, is not this bath-sheba, the daughter of eliam, the wife of uriah the hittite? and david sent messengers, and took her; and she came in unto him, and he lay with her; ... and she returned unto her house." uriah was serving in the army under joab. david sent for uriah, and told him to go home to his wife, but uriah refused. then david wrote a letter to joab and dismissed uriah, ordering him to give the letter to joab. and david "wrote in the letter, saying, set ye uriah in the forefront of the hottest battle, and retire ye from him, that he may be smitten and die.... "and the men of the city went out and fought with joab; and there fell some of the people of the servants of david; and uriah the hittite died also.... but the thing that david had done displeased the lord. "and the lord sent nathan unto david. and he came unto him, and said unto him, there were two men in one city; the one rich and the other poor. the rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds: "but the poor man had nothing, save one little ewe lamb, which he had bought and nourished up: and it grew up together with him, and with his children; it did eat of his own meat and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daughter. "and there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock, ... but took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the man that was come to him. "and david's anger was greatly kindled against the man; and he said to nathan, as the lord liveth, the man that hath done this thing shall surely die: ... "and nathan said to david, thou art the man. thus saith the lord god of israel ... now therefore the sword shall never depart from thine house; because thou has despised me ... behold, i will raise up evil against thee out of thine own house, and i will take thy wives before thine eyes, and give them unto thy neighbor." here, as the heading to the twelfth chapter of second book of samuel says, "nathan's parable of the ewe lamb causeth david to be his own judge," but the significant part of the story is that nathan, with all his influence, could not force david to surrender his prey. david begged very hard to have his sentence remitted, but, for all that, "david sent and fetched [bathsheba] to his house, and she became his wife, and bare him a son." indeed, she bore him solomon. as against david or david's important supporters men like uriah had no civil rights that could be enforced. even after the judicial function is nominally severed from the executive function, so that the sovereign himself does not, like david and solomon, personally administer justice, the same result is reached through agents, as long as the judge holds his office at the will of the chief of a political party. to go no farther afield, every page of english history blazons this record. long after the law had taken an almost modern shape, alice perrers, the mistress of edward iii, sat on the bench at westminster and intimidated the judges into deciding for suitors who had secured her services. the chief revenue of the rival factions during the war of the roses was derived from attainders, indictments for treason, and forfeitures, avowedly partisan. henry vii used the star chamber to ruin the remnants of the feudal aristocracy. henry viii exterminated as vagrants the wretched monks whom he had evicted. the prosecutions under charles i largely induced the great rebellion; and finally the limit of endurance was reached when charles ii made jeffreys chief justice of england in order to kill those who were prominent in opposition. charles knew what he was doing. "that man," said he of jeffreys, "has no learning, no sense, no manners, and more impudence than ten carted street-walkers." the first object was to convict algernon sidney of treason. jeffreys used simple means. usually drunk, his court resembled the den of a wild beast. he poured forth on "plaintiffs and defendants, barristers and attorneys, witnesses and jurymen, torrents of frantic abuse, intermixed with oaths and curses." the law required proof of an _overt act_ of treason. many years before sidney had written a philosophical treatise touching resistance by the subject to the sovereign, as a constitutional principle. but, though the fragment contained nothing more than the doctrines of locke, sidney had cautiously shown it to no one, and it had only been found by searching his study. jeffreys told the jury that if they believed the book to be sidney's book, written by him, they must convict for _scribere est agere_, to write is to commit an overt act. a revolution followed upon this and other like convictions, as revolutions have usually followed such uses of the judicial power. in that revolution the principle of the limitation of the judicial function was recognized, and the english people seriously addressed themselves to the task of separating their courts from political influences, of protecting their judges by making their tenure and their pay permanent, and of punishing them by removal if they behaved corruptly, or with prejudice, or transcended the limits within which their duty confined them. jeffreys had legislated when he ruled it to be the law that, to write words secretly in one's closet, is to commit an overt act of treason, and he did it to kill a man whom the king who employed him wished to destroy. this was to transcend the duty of a judge, which is to expound and not to legislate. the judge may develop a principle, he may admit evidence of a custom in order to explain the intentions of the parties to a suit, as lord mansfield admitted evidence of the customs of merchants, but he should not legislate. to do so, as jeffreys did in sidney's case, is tantamount to murder. jeffreys never was duly punished for his crimes. he died the year after the revolution, in the tower, maintaining to the last that he was innocent in the sight of god and man because "all the blood he had shed fell short of the king's command." and jeffreys was perfectly logical and consistent in his attitude. a judiciary is either an end in itself or a means to an end. if it be designed to protect the civil rights of citizens indifferently, it must be free from pressure which will deflect it from this path, and it can only be protected from the severest possible pressure by being removed from politics, because politics is the struggle for ascendancy of a class or a majority. if, on the other hand, the judiciary is to serve as an instrument for advancing the fortunes of a majority or a dominant class, as david used the jewish judiciary, or as the stuarts used the english judiciary, then the judicial power must be embodied either in a military or political leader, like david, who does the work himself, or in an agent, more or less like jeffreys, who will obey his orders. in the colonies the subserviency of the judges to the crown had been a standing grievance, and the result of this long and terrible experience, stretching through centuries both in europe and america, had been to inspire americans with a fear of intrusting power to any man or body of men. they sought to limit everything by written restrictions. setting aside the objection that such a system is mechanically vicious because it involves excessive friction and therefore waste of energy, it is obviously futile unless the written restrictions can be enforced, and enforced in the spirit in which they are drawn. hamilton, whose instinct for law resembled genius, saw the difficulty and pointed out in the _federalist_ that it is not a writing which can give protection, but only the intelligence and the sense of justice of the community itself. "the truth is, that the general genius of a government is all that can be substantially relied upon for permanent effects. particular provisions, though not altogether useless, have far less virtue and efficiency than are commonly ascribed to them; and the want of them will never be, with men of sound discernment, a decisive objection to any plan which exhibits the leading characters of a good government." after an experience of nearly a century and a quarter we must admit, i think, that hamilton was right. in the united states we have carried bills of right and constitutional limitations to an extreme, and yet, i suppose that few would care to maintain that, during the nineteenth century, life and property were safer in america, or crime better dealt with, than in england, france, or germany. the contrary, indeed, i take to be the truth, and i think one chief cause of this imperfection in the administration of justice will be found to have been the operation of the written constitution. for, under the american system, the constitution, or fundamental law, is expounded by judges, and this function, which, in essence, is political, has brought precisely that quality of pressure on the bench which it has been the labor of a hundred generations of our ancestors to remove. on the whole the result has been not to elevate politics, but to lower the courts toward the political level, a result which conforms to the _a priori_ theory. the abstract virtue of the written constitution was not, however, a question in issue when washington and his contemporaries set themselves to reorganize the confederation. those men had no choice but to draft some kind of a platform on which the states could agree to unite, if they were to unite peacefully at all, and accordingly they met in convention and drew the best form of agreement they could; but i more than suspect that a good many very able federalists were quite alive to the defects in the plan which they adopted. hamilton was outspoken in preferring the english model, and i am not aware that washington ever expressed a preference for the theory that, because of a written fundamental law, the court should nullify legislation. nor is it unworthy of remark that all foreigners, after a prolonged and attentive observation of our experiment, have avoided it. since , every highly civilized western people have readjusted their institutions at least once, yet not one has in this respect imitated us, though all have borrowed freely from the parliamentary system of england.[ ] even our neighbor, canada, with no adverse traditions and a population similar to ours, has been no exception to the rule. the canadian courts indeed define the limits of provincial and federal jurisdiction as fixed under an act of parliament, but they do not pretend to limit the exercise of power when the seat of power has been established. i take the cause of this distrust to be obvious. although our written constitution was successful in its primary purpose of facilitating the consolidation of the confederation, it has not otherwise inspired confidence as a practical administrative device. not only has constant judicial interference dislocated scientific legislation, but casting the judiciary into the vortex of civil faction has degraded it in the popular esteem. in fine, from the outset, the american bench, because it deals with the most fiercely contested of political issues, has been an instrument necessary to political success. consequently, political parties have striven to control it, and therefore the bench has always had an avowed partisan bias. this avowed political or social bias has, i infer, bred among the american people the conviction that justice is not administered indifferently to all men, wherefore the bench is not respected with us as, for instance, it is in great britain, where law and politics are sundered. nor has the dissatisfaction engendered by these causes been concealed. on the contrary, it has found expression through a series of famous popular leaders from thomas jefferson to theodore roosevelt. the constitution could hardly have been adopted or the government organized but for the personal influence of washington, whose power lay in his genius for dealing with men. he lost no time or strength in speculation, but, taking the constitution as the best implement at hand, he went to the work of administration by including the representatives of the antagonistic extremes in his cabinet. he might as well have expected fire and water to mingle as jefferson and hamilton to harmonize. probably he had no delusions on that head when he chose them for his ministers, and he accomplished his object. he paralyzed opposition until the new mechanism began to operate pretty regularly, but he had not an hour to spare. soon the french revolution heated passions so hot that long before washington's successor was elected the united states was rent by faction. the question which underlay all other questions, down to the civil war, was the determination of the seat of sovereignty. hamilton and the federalists held it to be axiomatic that, if the federal government were to be more than a shadow, it must interpret the meaning of the instrument which created it, and, if so, that it must signify its decisions through the courts. only in this way, they argued, could written limitations on legislative power be made effective. only in this way could statutes which contravened the constitution be set aside.[ ] jefferson was abroad when hamilton wrote _the federalist_, but his views have since been so universally accepted as embodying the opposition to hamilton, that they may be conveniently taken as if they had been published while the constitution was under discussion. substantially the same arguments were advanced by others during the actual debate, if not quite so lucidly or connectedly then, as afterward by him. very well, said jefferson, in answer to hamilton, admitting, for the moment, that the central government shall define its own powers, and that the courts shall be the organ through which the exposition shall be made, both of which propositions i vehemently deny, you have this result: the judges who will be called upon to pass upon the validity of national and state legislation will be plunged in the most heated of controversies, and in those controversies they cannot fail to be influenced by the same passions and prejudices which sway other men. in a word they must decide like legislators, though they will be exempt from the responsibility to the public which controls other legislators. such conditions you can only meet by making the judicial tenure of office ephemeral, as all legislative tenure is ephemeral. it is vain to pretend, continued he, in support of fixity of tenure, that the greater the pressure on the judge is likely to be, the more need there is to make him secure. this may be true of judges clothed with ordinary attributes, like english judges, for, should these try to nullify the popular will by construing away statutes, parliament can instantly correct them, or if parliament fail in its duty, the constituencies, at the next election, can intervene. but no one will be able to correct the american judge who may decline to recognize the law which would constrain him. nothing can shake him save impeachment for what is tantamount to crime, or being overruled by a constitutional amendment which you have purposely made too hard to obtain to be a remedy. he is to be judge in his own case without an appeal. nowhere in all his long and masterly defence of the constitution did hamilton show so much embarrassment as here, and because, probably, he did not himself believe in his own brief. he really had faith in the english principle of an absolute parliament, restrained, if needful, by a conservative chamber, like the house of lords, but not in the total suspension of sovereignty subject to judicial illumination. consequently he fell back on platitudes about judicial high-mindedness, and how judges could be trusted not to allow political influences to weigh with them when deciding political questions. pushed to its logical end, concluded he, the jeffersonian argument would prove that there should be no judges distinct from legislatures.[ ] now, at length, exclaimed the jeffersonian in triumph, you admit our thesis. you propose to clothe judges with the highest legislative functions, since you give them an absolute negative on legislation, and yet you decline to impose on them the responsibility to a constituency, which constrains other legislators. clearly you thus make them autocratic, and in the worst sense, for you permit small bodies of irresponsible men under pretence of dispensing justice, but really in a spirit of hypocrisy, to annul the will of the majority of the people, even though the right of the people to exercise their will, in the matters at issue, be clearly granted them in the constitution. no, rejoined hamilton, thus driven to the wall, judges never will so abuse their trust. the duty of the judge requires him to suppress his _will_, and exercise his _judgment_ only. the constitution will be before him, and he will have only to say whether authority to legislate on a given subject is granted in that instrument. if it be, the character of the legislation must remain a matter of legislative discretion. besides, you must repose confidence somewhere, and judges, on the whole, are more trustworthy than legislators. how can you say that, retorted the opposition, when you, better than most men, know the line of despotic legal precedents from the ship money down to the writs of assistance? looking back upon this initial controversy touching judicial functions under the constitution, we can hardly suppose that hamilton did not perceive that, in substance, jefferson was right, and that a bench purposely constructed to pass upon political questions must be politically partisan. he knew very well that, if the federalists prevailed in the elections, a federalist president would only appoint magistrates who could be relied on to favor consolidation. and so the event proved. general washington chose john jay for the first chief justice, who in some important respects was more federalist than hamilton, while john adams selected john marshall, who, though one of the greatest jurists who ever lived, was hated by jefferson with a bitter hatred, because of his political bias. as time went on matters grew worse. before marshall died slavery had become a burning issue, and the slave-owners controlled the appointing power. general jackson appointed taney to sustain the expansion of slavery, and when the anti-slavery party carried the country with lincoln, lincoln supplanted taney with chase, in order that chase might stand by him in his struggle to destroy slavery. and as it has been, so must it always be. as long as the power to enact laws shall hinge on the complexion of benches of judges, so long will the ability to control a majority of the bench be as crucial a political necessity as the ability to control a majority in avowedly representative assemblies. hamilton was one of the few great jurists and administrators whom america has ever produced, and it is inconceivable that he did not understand what he was doing. he knew perfectly well that, other things being equal, the simplest administrative mechanism is the best, and he knew also that he was helping to make an extremely complicated mechanism. not only so, but at the heart of this complexity lay the gigantic cog of the judiciary, which was obviously devised to stop movement. he must have had a reason, beyond the reason he gave, for not only insisting on clothing the judiciary with these unusual political and legislative attributes, but for giving the judiciary an unprecedented fixity of tenure. i suspect that he was actuated by some such considerations as these: the federalists, having pretty good cause to suppose themselves in a popular minority, purposed to consolidate the thirteen states under a new sovereign. there were but two methods by which they could prevail; they could use force, or, to secure assent, they could propose some system of arbitration. to escape war the federalists convened the constitutional convention, and by so doing pledged themselves to arbitration. but if their plan of consolidation were to succeed, it was plain that the arbitrator must arbitrate in their favor, for if he arbitrated as mr. jefferson would have wished, the united states under the constitution would have differed little from the united states under the confederation. the federalists, therefore, must control the arbitrator. if the constitution were to be adopted, hamilton and every one else knew that washington would be the first president, and washington could be relied on to appoint a strong federalist bench. hence, whatever might happen subsequently, when the new plan first should go into operation, and when the danger from insubordination among the states would probably be most acute, the judiciary would be made to throw its weight in favor of consolidation, and against disintegration, and, if it did so, it was essential that it should be protected against anything short of a revolutionary attack. in the convention, indeed, charles pinckney of south carolina suggested that congress should be empowered to negative state legislation, but such an alternative, for obvious reasons, would have been less palatable to hamilton, since congress would be only too likely to fall under the control of the jeffersonian party, while a bench of judges, if once well chosen, might prove to be for many years an "excellent barrier to the encroachments and oppressions of the representative body."[ ] i infer that hamilton and many other federalists reasoned somewhat thus, not only from what they wrote, but from the temper of their minds, and, if they did, events largely justified them. john jay, oliver ellsworth, and john marshall were successively appointed to the office of chief justice, nor did the complexion of the supreme court change until after . what interests us, however, is not so much what the federalists thought, or the motives which actuated them, as the effect which the clothing of the judiciary with political functions has had upon the development of the american republic, more especially as that extreme measure might have been avoided, had pinckney's plan been adopted. nor, looking back upon the actual course of events, can i perceive that, so far as the movement toward consolidation was concerned, the final result would have varied materially whether congress or the supreme court had exercised control over state legislation. marshall might just as well, in the one case as the other, have formulated his theory of a semi-centralized administration. he would only have had uniformly to sustain congress, as an english judge sustains parliament. nor could either congress or the court have reached a definite result without an appeal to force. either chamber might expound a theory, but nothing save an army could establish it. for two generations statesmen and jurists debated the relation of the central to the local sovereignties with no result, for words alone could decide no such issue. in america, as elsewhere, sovereignty is determined by physical force. marshall could not conquer jefferson, he could at most controvert jefferson's theory. this he did, but, in doing so, i doubt if he were quite true to himself. jefferson contended that every state might nullify national legislation, as conversely pinckney wished congress to be given explicitly the power to nullify state legislation; and marshall, very sensibly, pointed out that, were jefferson's claim carried into practice, it would create "a hydra in government,"[ ] yet i am confident that marshall did not appreciate whither his own assertion of authority must lead. in view of the victory of centralization in the civil war, i will agree that the supreme court might have successfully maintained a position as arbitrator touching conflicting jurisdictions, as between the nation and the states, but that is a different matter from assuming to examine into the wisdom of the legislation itself. the one function might, possibly, pass by courtesy as judicial; the other is clearly legislative. this distinction only developed after marshall's death, but the resentment which impelled marshall to annul an act of congress was roused by the political conflict which preceded the election of , in which marshall took a chief part. apparently he could not resist the temptation of measuring himself with his old adversary, especially as he seems to have thought that he could discredit that adversary without giving him an opportunity to retaliate. in a federalist congress passed the alien and sedition acts, whose constitutionality no federalist judge ever doubted, but which jefferson considered as clearly a violation of the fundamental compact, since they tended to drive certain states, as he thought, into "revolution and blood." under this provocation jefferson proclaimed that it was both the right and the duty of any state, which felt itself aggrieved, to intervene to arrest "the progress of the evil," within her territory, by declining to execute, or by "nullifying," the objectionable statutes. as jefferson wrote the kentucky resolutions in and was elected president in , the people at least appeared to have sustained him in his exposition of the constitution, before he entered into office. at this distance of time we find it hard to realize what the election of seemed to portend to those who participated therein. mr. jefferson always described it as amounting to a revolution as profound as, if less bloody than, the revolution of , and though we maybe disposed to imagine that jefferson valued his own advent to power at its full worth, it must be admitted that his enemies regarded it almost as seriously. nor were they without some justification, for jefferson certainly represented the party of disintegration. "nullification" would have been tantamount to a return to the condition of the confederation. besides, jefferson not so many years before had written, in defence of shays's rebellion, that the tree of liberty could never flourish unless refreshed occasionally with the blood of patriots and tyrants. to most federalists jefferson seemed a bloodthirsty demagogue. in oliver ellsworth had been appointed chief justice by general washington in the place of jay, who resigned, and in john adams sent ellsworth as an envoy to france to try to negotiate a treaty which should reëstablish peace between the two countries. ellsworth succeeded in his mission, but the hardships of his journey injured his health, and he, in turn, resigned in the autumn of . then adams offered the chief justiceship to jay, but jay would not return to office, and after this the president selected his secretary of state, john marshall, one of the greatest of the great virginians, but one of jefferson's most irreconcilable enemies. perhaps at no moment in his life did john adams demonstrate his legal genius more convincingly than in this remarkable nomination. yet it must be conceded that, in making john marshall chief justice, john adams deliberately chose the man whom, of all his countrymen, he thought to be the most formidable champion of those views which he himself entertained, and which he conceived that he had been elected president to advance. nor was john adams deceived. for thirty-four years john marshall labored ceaselessly to counteract jefferson's constitutional principles, while jefferson always denounced the political partiality of the federal courts, and above all the "rancorous hatred which marshall bears to the government of his country, and ... the cunning and sophistry within which he is able to enshroud himself."[ ] no one, at this day, would be disposed to dispute that the constitution, as a device to postpone war among the states, at least for a period, was successful, and that, as i have already pointed out, during the tentative interval which extended until appomattox, the supreme court served perhaps as well, in ordinary times, as an arbiter between the states and the general government, as any which could have been suggested. so much may be conceded, and yet it remains true, as the record will show, that when it passed this point and entered into factional strife, the supreme court somewhat lamentably failed, probably injuring itself and popular respect for law, far more by its errors, than it aided the union by its political adjudications. although john marshall, by common consent, ranks as one of the greatest and purest of americans, yet even marshall had human weaknesses, one of which was a really unreasonable antipathy to thomas jefferson; an antipathy which, i surmise, must, when jefferson was inaugurated, have verged upon contempt. at least marshall did what cautious men seldom do when they respect an adversary, he took the first opportunity to pick a quarrel with a man who had the advantage of him in position. in the last days of his presidency john adams appointed one william marbury a justice of the peace for the district of columbia. the senate confirmed the appointment, and the president signed, and john marshall, as secretary of state, sealed marbury's commission; but in the hurry of surrendering office the commission was not delivered, and jefferson found it in the state department when he took possession. resenting violently these "midnight" appointments, as he called them, jefferson directed mr. madison, his secretary of state, to withhold the commission; and, at the next december term of the supreme court, marbury moved for a rule to madison to show cause why he should not be commanded to deliver to the plaintiff the property to which marbury pretended to be entitled. of course jefferson declined to appear before marshall, through his secretary of state, and finally, in february, , marshall gave judgment, in what was, without any doubt, the most anomalous opinion he ever delivered, in that it violated all judicial conventions, for, apparently, no object, save to humiliate a political opponent. marshall had no intention of commanding madison to surrender the commission to marbury. he was too adroit a politician for that. marshall knew that he could not compel jefferson to obey such a writ against his will, and that in issuing the order he would only bring himself and his court into contempt. what he seems to have wished to do was to give jefferson a lesson in deportment. accordingly, instead of dismissing marbury's suit upon any convenient pretext, as, according to legal etiquette, he should have done if he had made up his mind to decide against the plaintiff, and yet thought it inexpedient to explain his view of the law, he began his opinion with a long and extra-judicial homily, first on marbury's title to ownership in the commission, and then on civil liberty. having affirmed that marbury's right to his office vested when the president had signed, and the secretary of state had sealed the instrument, he pointed out that withholding the property thus vested was a violation of civil rights which could be examined in a court of justice. were it otherwise, the chief justice insisted, the government of the united states could not be termed a government of laws and not of men. all this elaborate introduction was in the nature of a solemn lecture by the chief justice of the supreme court to the president of the united states upon his faulty discharge of his official duties. having eased his mind on this head, marshall went on, very dexterously indeed, but also very palpably, to elude the consequences of his temerity. he continued: the right of property being established, and the violation of that right clear, it is plain that a wrong has been committed, and it only remains to determine whether that wrong can be redressed under this form of procedure. we are of opinion that it cannot, because congress has no constitutional power to confer upon the supreme court original jurisdiction in this class of litigation. in the lower courts alone can the relief prayed for be obtained. of all the events of marshall's life this controversy with jefferson seems to me the most equivocal, and it was a direct effect of a constitutional system which has permitted the courts to become the censor of the political departments of the government. marshall, probably, felt exasperated by jefferson's virulence against these final appointments made by john adams, while marshall was secretary of state, and for which he may have felt himself, in part, responsible. possibly, even, he may have taken some of jefferson's strictures as aimed at himself. at all events he went to extreme lengths in retaliation. he might have dismissed the litigation in a few words by stating that, whatever the abstract rights of the parties might have been, the supreme court had no power to constrain the president in his official functions; but he yielded to political animosity. then, having taken a position practically untenable, he had to find an avenue of retreat, and he found it by asserting a supervisory jurisdiction over congress, a step which, even at that early period, was most hazardous.[ ] in reality jefferson's temper, far from being vindictive and revolutionary, as his enemies believed, was rather gentle and timid, but he would have been more than mortal had he endured such an insult in silence. nor could he, perhaps, have done so without risking the respect of his followers. so he decided on reprisals, and a scheme was matured among influential virginians, like john randolph and senator william giles, to purge the supreme court of federalists. among the associate justices of this court was samuel chase, a signer of the declaration of independence and an able lawyer, but an arrogant and indiscreet partisan. chase had made himself obnoxious on various public occasions and so was considered to be the best subject to impeach; but if they succeeded with him the jeffersonians proclaimed their intention of removing all his brethren seriatim, including the chief offender of all, john marshall. one day in december, , senator giles, of virginia, in a conversation which john quincy adams has reported in his diary, discussed the issue at large, and that conversation is most apposite now, since it shows how early the inevitable tendency was developed to make judges who participate in political and social controversies responsible to the popular will. the conversation is too long to extract in full, but a few sentences will convey its purport:-- "he treated with the utmost contempt the idea of an _independent_ judiciary.... and if the judges of the supreme court should dare, _as they had done_, to declare an act of congress unconstitutional, or to send a mandamus to the secretary of state, _as they had done_, it was the undoubted right of the: house of representatives to impeach them, and of the senate to remove them, for giving such opinions, however honest or sincere they may have been in entertaining them. * * * and a removal by impeachment was nothing more than a declaration by congress to this effect: you hold dangerous opinions, and if you are suffered to carry them into effect you will work the destruction of the nation. _we want your offices_, for the purpose of giving them to men who will fill them better."[ ] jefferson, though he controlled a majority in the senate, failed by a narrow margin to obtain the two-thirds vote necessary to convict chase. nevertheless, he accomplished his object. chase never recovered his old assurance, and marshall never again committed a solecism in judicial manners. on his side, after the impeachment, jefferson showed moderation. he might, if he had been malevolent, without doubt, have obtained an act of congress increasing the membership of the supreme court enough to have put marshall in a minority. then by appointing men like giles he could have compelled marshall to resign. he did nothing of the kind. he spared the supreme court, which he might have overthrown, and contented himself with waiting until time should give him the opportunity to correct the political tendencies of a body of men whom he sincerely regarded as a menace to, what he considered, popular institutions. thus the ebullition caused by marshall's acrimony toward jefferson, because of jefferson's strictures on the appointments made by his predecessor subsided, leaving no very serious immediate mischief behind, save the precedent of the nullification of an act of congress by the supreme court. that precedent, however, was followed by marshall's democratic successor. and nothing can better illustrate the inherent vice of the american constitutional system than that it should have been possible, in , to devise and afterward present to a tribunal, whose primary purpose was to administer the municipal law, a set of facts for adjudication, on purpose to force it to pass upon the validity of such a statute as the missouri compromise, which had been enacted by congress in , as a sort of treaty of peace between the north and south, and whose object was the limitation of the spread of slavery. whichever way the court decided, it must have fallen into opprobrium with one-half the country. in fact, having been organized by the slaveholders to sustain slavery, it decided against the north, and therefore lost repute with the party destined to be victorious. i need not pause to criticise the animus of the court, nor yet the quality of the law which the chief justice there laid down. it suffices that in the decade which preceded hostilities no event, in all probability, so exasperated passions, and so shook the faith of the people of the northern states in the judiciary, as this decision. faith, whether in the priest or the magistrate, is of slow growth, and if once impaired is seldom fully restored. i doubt whether the supreme court has ever recovered from the shock it then received, and, considered from this point of view, the careless attitude of the american people toward general grant's administration, when in it obtained the reversal of hepburn _v_. griswold by appointments to the bench, assumes a sombre aspect. of late some sensitiveness has been shown in regard to this transaction, and a disposition has appeared to defend general grant and his attorney-general against the charge of manipulating the membership of the bench to suit their own views. at the outset, therefore, i wish to disclaim any intention of entering into this discussion. to me it is immaterial whether general grant and mr. hoar did or did not nominate judges with a view to obtaining a particular judgment. i am concerned not with what men thought, but with what they did, and with the effect of their acts at the moment, upon their fellow-citizens. hepburn _v_. griswold was decided in conference on november , , when eight justices were on the bench. on february , following, justice grier resigned, and, on february , judgment was entered, the court then being divided four to three, but grier having been with the majority, the vote in reality stood five to three. two vacancies therefore existed on february , one caused by the resignation of grier, the other by an act of congress which had enlarged the court by one member, and which had taken effect in the previous december. chief justice chase held that the clause of the currency laws of and which made depreciated paper a legal tender for preëxisting debts was unconstitutional. no sooner had the judgment been recorded than all the world perceived that, if both vacancies should be filled with men who would uphold the acts, hepburn _v_. griswold might be reversed by a majority of one. the republican party had full control of the government and was united in vehement support of the laws. on march , the second of the two new judges received his commission, and precisely ten days afterward the attorney-general moved for a rehearing, taunting the chief justice with having changed his opinion on this point, and intimating that the issue was in reality political, and not judicial at all. in the december term following knox _v_. lee was argued by the attorney-general, and, on may , , judgment was entered reversing hepburn _v_. griswold, both the new judges voting with the former minority, thus creating the necessary majority of one. no one has ever doubted that what general grant did coincided with the drift of opinion, and that the republican party supported him without inquiring how he had achieved success.[ ] after this it is difficult to suppose that much respect could remain among the american people for the sanctity of judicial political decisions, or that a president, at the head of a popular majority, would incur much odium for intervening to correct them, as a party measure. the last example of judicial interference which i shall mention was the nullification, in , of a statute of congress which imposed an income tax. the states have since set this decision aside by constitutional amendment, and i should suppose that few would now dispute that the court when it so decided made a serious political and social error. as mr. justice white pointed out, the judges undertook to deprive the people, in their corporate capacity, of a power conceded to congress "by universal consensus for one hundred years."[ ] these words were used in the first argument, but on the rehearing the present chief justice waxed warm in remonstrating against the unfortunate position in which his brethren placed the court before the nation, protesting with almost passionate earnestness against the reversal by half-a-dozen judges of what had been the universally accepted legal, political, and economic policy of the country solely in order that "invested wealth" might be read "into the constitution" as a favored and protected class of property. mr. justice white closed by saying that by this act the supreme court had "deprived [the government] of an inherent attribute of its being."[ ] i might go on into endless detail, but i apprehend that these cases, which are the most important which have ever arisen on this issue, suffice for my purpose.[ ] i contend that no court can, because of the nature of its being, effectively check a popular majority acting through a coordinate legislative assembly, and i submit that the precedents which i have cited prove this contention. the only result of an attempt and failure is to bring courts of justice into odium or contempt, and, in any event, to make them objects of attack by a dominant social force in order to use them as an instrument, much as charles ii used jeffreys. the moment we consider the situation philosophically we perceive why using a court to control a coordinate legislature must, nearly inevitably, be sooner or later fatal to the court, if it asserts its prerogative. a court to be a fit tribunal to administer the municipal law impartially, or even relatively impartially, must be a small body of men, holding by a permanent and secure tenure, guarded from all pressure which may unduly influence them. also they should be men of much experience and learned in the precedents which should make the rules which they apply stable and consistent. in short, a court should be rigid and emotionless. it follows that it must be conservative, for its members should long have passed that period of youth when the mind is sensitive to new impressions. were it otherwise, law would cease to be cohesive. a legislature is nearly the antithesis of a court. it is designed to reflect the passions of the voters, and the majority of voters are apt to be young. hence in periods of change, when alone serious clashes between legislatures and courts are likely to occur, as the social equilibrium shifts the legislature almost certainly will reflect the rising, the court the sinking power. i take the dred scott case as an illustration. in the slaveholding interest had passed the zenith of high fortune, and was hastening toward its decline. in the elections of the democratic party, which represented slavery, was defeated. but the supreme court had been organized by democrats who had been dominant for many years, and it adhered, on the principle laid down by jeffreys, to the master which created it. occasionally, it is true, a court has been constructed by a rising energy, as was the supreme court in , but then it is equally tenacious to the instinct which created it. the history of the supreme court is, in this point of view, eminently suggestive. the federalist instinct was constructive, not destructive, and accordingly marshall's fame rests on a series of constructive decisions like m'culloch _v_. maryland, cohens _v_. virginia, and gibbons _v_. odgen. in these decisions he either upheld actual national legislation, or else the power of the nation to legislate. conversely, whenever marshall or his successors have sought to obstruct social movement they have not prospered. marbury _v_. madison is not an episode on which any admirer of marshall can linger with satisfaction. in theory it may be true, as hamilton contended, that, given the fact that a written constitution is inevitable, a bench of judges is the best tribunal to interpret its meaning, since the duty of the judge has ever been and is now to interpret the meaning of written instruments; but it does not follow from this premise that the judges who should exercise this office should be the judges who administer the municipal law. in point of fact experience has proved that, so far as congress is concerned, the results of judicial interference have been negative. and it would be well if in other spheres of american constitutional development, judicial activity had been always negative. unfortunately, as i believe, it has extended into the domain of legislation. i will take the dred scott case once more to illustrate my meaning. the north found it bad enough for the supreme court to hold that, under the constitution, congress could not exclude slavery from the national territory beyond a certain boundary which had been fixed by compromise between the north and south. but the north would have found it intolerable if the court, while fully conceding that congress might so legislate, if the character of the legislation commended itself to the judges, had held the missouri compromise to be unconstitutional because they thought it _unreasonable_. yet this, in substance, is what our courts have done. and this brings me to the consideration of american courts as legislative chambers. footnotes: [ ] the relation of courts to legislation in european countries has been pretty fully considered by brinton coxe, in _judicial power and constitutional legislation_. [ ] _federalist_ no. lxxviii. [ ] _the federalist_, no. lxxviii. [ ] _the federalist_, no. lxxviii. [ ] cohens _v_. virginia, wheaton . [ ] to madison, ford, , . [ ] marshall's constitutional doctrine was not universally accepted, even in the courts of the northern states, until long afterward. as eminent a jurist as chief justice gibson of pennsylvania, as late as , gave a very able dissenting opinion in opposition in eakin _v_. raub, s.&r., . [ ] memoirs, i, . [ ] hepburn _v._ griswold, wallace . decided in conference on nov. , , more than a month before grier's resignation. knox _v_. lee, wallace . [ ] u.s. . [ ] pollock _v_. the farmers' loan & trust co., u.s. . [ ] in mr. j.c. bancroft davis compiled a table of the acts of congress which up to that time had been held to be unconstitutional. it is to be found in the appendix to volume u.s. reports, page ccxxxv. mr. davis has, however, omitted from his list the dred scott case, probably for the technical reason that, in , when the cause was decided, the missouri compromise had been repealed. nevertheless, though this is true, tansy's decision hinged upon the invalidity of the law. besides the statutes which i have mentioned in the test, the two most important, i suppose, which have been annulled, have to me no little interest. these are the civil rights act of , and the employers' liability act of . the civil rights act of grew rapidly unpopular, and the decision which overturned it coincided with the strong drift of opinion. the civil rights cases were decided in october, , and mr. cleveland was elected president in . doubtless the law would have been repealed had the judiciary supported it. therefore this adjudication stood. on the other hand, the employers' liability act of was held bad because congress undertook to deal with commerce conducted wholly within the states, and therefore beyond the national jurisdiction. the court, consequently, in the employers' liability cases, simply defined the limits of sovereignty, as a canadian court might do; it did not question the existence of sovereignty itself. in congress passed a statute free from this objection, and the court, in the second employers' liability cases, u.s. , sustained the legislation in the most thoroughgoing manner. i know not where to look for two better illustrations of my theory. chapter iii american courts as legislative chambers in one point of view many of the greatest of the federalists were idealists. they seem sincerely to have believed that they could, by some form of written words, constrain a people to be honest against their will, and almost as soon as the new government went into operation they tested these beliefs by experiment, with very indifferent success. i take it that jurists like jay and marshall held it to be axiomatic that rules of conduct should be laid down by them which would be applicable to rich and poor, great and small, alike, and that courts could maintain such rules against all pressure. possibly such principles may be enforced against individuals, but they cannot be enforced against communities, and it was here that the federalist philosophy collapsed, as hamilton, at least partly, foresaw that it must. sovereigns have always enjoyed immunity from suit by private persons, unless they have been pleased to assent thereto, not because it is less wrongful for a sovereign than for an individual to cheat, but because the sovereign cannot be arrested and the individual can. with the declaration of independence the thirteen colonies became sovereigns. petty sovereigns it is true, and singly contemptible in physical force as against most foreign nations, but none the less tenacious of the attributes of sovereignty, and especially of the attribute which enabled them to repudiate their debts. jay, marshall, and their like, thought that they could impose the same moral standard upon the states as upon private persons; they were unable to do so, but in making the attempt they involved the american judicial system in a maze of difficulties whose gravity, i fear, can hardly be exaggerated. before entering upon this history, however, i must say a word touching the nature of our law. municipal law, to be satisfactory, should be a body of abstract principles capable of being applied impartially to all relevant facts, just as marshall and jay held it to be. where exceptions begin, equality before the law ends, as i have tried to show by the story of king david and uriah, and therefore the great effort of civilization has been to remove judges from the possibility of being subjected to a temptation, or to a pressure, which may deflect them from impartiality as between suitors. in modern civilization, especially, nothing is so fatal to the principle of order as inequality in the dispensation of justice, and it would have been reasonable to suppose that americans, beyond all others, would have been alive to this teaching of experience, and have studiously withdrawn their bench from politics. in fact they have ignored it, and instead they have set their judiciary at the focus of conflicting forces. the result has been the more unfortunate as the english system of jurisprudence is ill calculated to bear the strain, it being inflexible. in theory the english law moves logically from precedent to precedent, the judge originating nothing, only elaborating ideas which he has received from a predecessor, and which are binding on him. if the line of precedents leads to wrongful conclusions, the legislature must intervene with a statute rectifying the wrong. the romans, who were gifted with a higher legal genius than we, managed better. the praetor, by his edict, suppressed inconvenient precedents, and hence the romans maintained flexibility in their municipal law without falling into confusion. we have nothing to correspond to the praetor. thus the english system of binding precedents is troublesome enough in a civilization in chronic and violent flux like modern civilization, even when applied to ordinary municipal law which may be changed at will by legislation, but it brings society almost to a stand when applied to the most vital functions of government, with no means at hand to obtain a corrective. for the court of last resort having once declared the meaning of a clause of the constitution, that meaning remains fixed forever, unless the court either reverses itself, which is a disaster, or the constitution can be amended by the states, which is not only difficult, but which, even if it be possible, entails years of delay. yet pressing emergencies arise, emergencies in which a settlement of some kind must almost necessarily be reached somewhat rapidly to avert very serious disorders, and it has been under this tension, as i understand american constitutional development, that our courts have resorted to legislation. nor is it fair for us to measure the sagacity of our great jurists by the standard of modern experience. they lived before the acceleration of movement by electricity and steam. they could not foresee the rapidity and the profundity of the changes which were imminent. hence it was that, in the spirit of great lawyers, who were also possibly men tinged with a certain enthusiasm for the ideal, they began their work by ruling on the powers and limitations of sovereignty, as if they were ruling on the necessity of honest intent in dealings with one's neighbor. in general washington is said to have offered john jay his choice of offices under the new government, and jay chose the chief justiceship, because there he thought he could make his influence felt most widely. if so he had his wish, and very shortly met with disappointment. in the august term of , one chisholm, a citizen of south carolina, sued the state of georgia for a debt. georgia declined to appear, and in february, , jay, in an elaborate opinion, gave judgment for chisholm. jay was followed by his associates with the exception of iredell, j., of north carolina. forthwith a ferment began, and in the very next session of congress an amendment to the constitution was proposed to make such suits impossible. in january, , five years after the case was argued, this amendment was declared to be adopted, but meanwhile jay had resigned to become governor of new york. in december, , he was again offered the chief justiceship by john adams, on the resignation of oliver ellsworth, but jay resolutely declined. i have often wondered whether jay's mortification at having his only important constitutional decision summarily condemned by the people may not have given him a distaste for judicial life. the federalist attempt to enforce on the states a positive rule of economic morality, therefore, collapsed at once, but it still remained possible to approach the same problem from its negative side, through the clause of the constitution which forbade any state to impair the validity of contracts, and marshall took up this aspect of the task where jay left it. in marshall's mind his work was simple. he had only to determine the nature of a contract, and the rest followed automatically. all contracts were to be held sacred. their greater or less importance was immaterial. in marshall expounded this general principle in fletcher _v_. peck.[ ] "when ... a law is in its nature a contract ... a repeal of the law cannot devest" rights which have vested under it. a couple of years later he applied his principle to the extreme case of an unlimited remission of taxation.[ ] the state of new jersey had granted an exemption from taxation to lands ceded to certain indians. marshall held that this contract ran with the land, and inured to the benefit of grantees from the indians. if the state cared to resume its power of taxation, it must buy the grant back, and the citizens of new jersey must pay for their improvidence. seven years later, in , marshall may, perhaps, be said to have reached the culmination of his career, for then he carried his moral standard to a breaking strain. but, though his theory broke down, perhaps the most striking evidence of his wonderful intellectual superiority is that he convinced the democrat, joseph story,--a man who had been nominated by madison to oppose him, and of undoubted strength of character,--of the soundness of his thesis. in king george iii incorporated certain trustees of dartmouth college. the charter was accepted and both real and personal property were thereupon conveyed to this corporate body, in trust for educational purposes. in the legislature of new hampshire reorganized the board of trustees against their will. if the incorporation amounted to a contract, the court was clear that this statute impaired it; therefore the only really debatable issue was whether the grant of a charter by the king amounted to a contract by him, with his subjects to whom he granted it. after prolonged consideration marshall concluded that it did, and i conceive that, in the eye of history, he was right. throughout the middle ages corporate privileges of all kinds, but especially municipal corporate privileges, had been subjects of purchase and sale, and indeed the mediaeval social system rested on such contracts. so much was this the case that the right to return members of parliament from incorporated boroughs was, as lord eldon pointed out in the debates on the reform bill, as much private property "as any of your lordships'" titles and peerages. it was here that marshall faltered. he felt that the public would not support him if he held that states could not alter town and county charters, so he arbitrarily split corporations in halves, protecting only those which handled exclusively private funds, and abandoning "instruments of government," as he called them, to the mercy of legislative assemblies. toward it became convenient for middle class englishmen to confiscate most of the property which the aristocracy had invested in parliamentary boroughs, and this social revolution was effected without straining the judicial system, because of the supremacy of parliament. in america, at about the same time, it became, in like manner, convenient to confiscate numerous equally well-vested rights, because, to have compensated the owners would have entailed a considerable sacrifice which neither the public nor the promoters of new enterprises were willing to make. the same end was reached in america as in england, in spite of chief justice marshall and the dartmouth college case, only in america it was attained by a legal somerset which has disordered the course of justice ever since. in king william iii incorporated trinity church in the city of new york, confirming to the society the possession of a parcel of land, adjoining the church, to be used as a churchyard for the burial of the dead. in the government of new york prohibited interments within the city limits, thus closing the churchyard for the purposes for which it had been granted. as compensation was refused, it appeared to be a clear case of confiscation, and trinity resisted. in the teeth of recent precedents the supreme court of new york decided that, under the _police power_, the legislature of new york might authorize this sort of appropriation of private property for sanitary purposes, without paying the owners for any loss they might thereby sustain.[ ] the court thus simply dispensed the legislature from obedience to the law, saying in effect, "although the constitution forbids impairing contracts, and although this is a contract which you have impaired, yet, in our discretion, we suspend the operation of the constitution, in this instance, by calling your act an exercise of a power unknown to the framers of the constitution." i cannot doubt that marshall would have flouted this theory had he lived to pass upon it, but marshall died in , and the charles river bridge case, in which this question was first presented to the supreme court of the united states, did not come up until . then joseph story, who remained as the representative of marshall's philosophy upon the bench, vehemently protested against the latitudinarianism of chief justice taney and his associates, but without producing the slightest effect. in the massachusetts legislature chartered the charles river bridge company to build a bridge between boston and charlestown, authorizing it, by way of consideration, to collect tolls for forty years. in the franchise was extended to seventy years, when the bridge was to revert to the commonwealth. in the legislature chartered the warren bridge company, expressly to build a bridge parallel to and practically adjoining the charles river bridge, the warren bridge to become a free bridge after six years. the purpose, of course, was to accelerate movement by ruining the charles river bridge company. the charles river bridge company sought to restrain the building of the warren bridge as a breach of contract by the state, but failed to obtain relief in the state courts, and before the cause could be argued at washington the warren bridge had become free and had destroyed the value of the charles river bridge, though its franchise had still twenty years to run. as story pointed out, no one denied that the charter of the charles river bridge company was a contract, and, as he insisted, it is only common sense as well as common justice and elementary law, that contracts of this character should be reasonably interpreted so far as quiet enjoyment of the consideration granted is concerned; but all this availed nothing. the gist of the opposing argument is contained in a single sentence in the opinion of the chief justice who spoke for the majority of the court: "the millions of property which have been invested in railroads and canals, upon lines of travel which had been before occupied by turnpike corporations, will be put in jeopardy" if this doctrine is to prevail.[ ] the effect of the adoption by the supreme court of the united states of the new york theory of the police power was to vest in the judiciary, by the use of this catch-word, an almost unparalleled prerogative. they assumed a supreme function which can only be compared to the dispensing power claimed by the stuarts, or to the authority which, according to the council of constance, inheres in the church, to "grant indulgences for reasonable causes." i suppose nothing in modern judicial history has ever resembled this assumption; and yet, when we examine it, we find it to be not only the logical, but the inevitable, effect of those mechanical causes which constrain mankind to move along the lines of least resistance. marshall, in a series of decisions, laid down a general principle which had been proved to be sound when applied by ordinary courts, dealing with ordinary social forces, and operating under the corrective power of either a legislature or a praetor, but which had a different aspect under the american constitutional system. he held that the fundamental law, embodied in the constitution, commanded that all contracts should be sacred. therefore he, as a judge, had but two questions to resolve: first, whether, in the case before him, a contract had been proved to exist. second, admitting that a contract had been proved, whether it had also been shown to have been impaired. within ten years after these decisions it had been found in practice that public opinion would not sustain so rigid an administration of the law. no legislature could intervene, and a pressure was brought to bear which the judges could not withstand; therefore, the court yielded, declaring that if impairing a contract were, on the whole, for the public welfare, the constitution, as marshall interpreted it, should be suspended in favor of the legislation which impaired it. they called this suspension the operation of the "police power." it followed, as the "police power" could only come into operation at the discretion of the court, that, therefore, within the limits of judicial discretion, confiscation, however arbitrary and to whatever extent, might go on. in the energetic language of the supreme court of maine: "this duty and consequent power override all statute or contract exemptions. the state cannot free any person or corporation from subjection to this power. all personal, as well as property rights must be held subject to the police power of the state."[ ] once the theory of the police power was established it became desirable to define the limits of judicial discretion, but that proved to be impossible. it could not be determined in advance by abstract reasoning. hence, as each litigation arose, the judges could follow no rule but the rule of common sense, and the police power, translated into plain english, presently came to signify whatever, at the moment, the judges happened to think reasonable. consequently, they began guessing at the drift of public opinion, as it percolated to them through the medium of their education and prejudices. sometimes they guessed right and sometimes wrong, and when they guessed wrong they were cast aside, as appeared dramatically enough in the temperance agitation. up to about the middle of the last century the lawfulness of the liquor business had been unquestioned in the united states, and money had been invested as freely in it as in any other legitimate enterprise; but, as the temperance agitation swept over the country, in obedience to the impulsion given by science to the study of hygiene, dealing in liquor came to be condemned as a crime. presently legislatures began to pass statutes to confiscate, more or less completely, this kind of property, and sufferers brought their cases before the courts to have the constitutionality of the acts tested, under the provisions which existed in all state constitutions, forbidding the taking, by the public, of private property without compensation, or without due process of law. such a provision existed hi the constitution of the state of new york, adopted in , and it was to invoke the protection of this clause that one wynehamer, who had been indicted in , carried his case to the court of appeals in the year . in that cause mr. justice comstock, who was one of the ablest jurists new york ever produced, gave an opinion which is a model of judicial' reasoning. he showed conclusively the absurdity of constitutional restrictions, if due process of law may be held to mean the enactment of the very statute drawn to work confiscation.[ ] this decision, which represented the profoundest convictions of men of the calibre of comstock and denio, deserves to rank with marshall's effort in the dartmouth college case. in both instances the tribunal exerted itself to carry out hamilton's principle of judicial duty by exercising its _judgment_ and not its _will_. in other words, the judges propounded a general rule and then simply determined whether the set of facts presented to them fell within that rule. they resolutely declined to legislate by entering upon a consideration of the soundness or reasonableness of the policy which underlay the action of the legislature. in the one case as in the other the effort was unavailing, as jefferson prophesied that it would be. i have told of marshall's overthrow in the charles river bridge case, and in , after controversies of this category had begun to come before the supreme court of the united states under the fourteenth amendment, mr. justice harlan swept mr. justice comstock aside by quietly ignoring an argument which was unanswerable.[ ] the same series of phenomena have appeared in regard to laws confiscating property invested in lotteries, when opinion turned against lotteries, or in occupations supposed to be unsanitary, as in the celebrated case of the taxing out of existence of the rendering establishment which had been erected as a public benefit to relieve the city of chicago of its offal.[ ] in fine, whenever pressure has reached a given intensity, on one pretext or another, courts have enforced or dispensed with constitutional limitations with quite as much facility as have legislatures, and for the same reasons. the only difference has been that the pressure which has operated most directly upon courts has not always been the pressure which has swayed legislatures, though sometimes both influences have combined. for example, during the civil war, the courts sanctioned everything the popular majority demanded under the pretext of the war power, as in peace they have sanctioned confiscations for certain popular purposes, under the name of the police power. but then, courts have always been sensitive to financial influences, and if they have been flexible in permitting popular confiscation when the path of least resistance has lain that way, they have gone quite as far in the reverse direction when the amount of capital threatened has been large enough to be with them a countervailing force. as the federal constitution originally contained no restriction upon the states touching the confiscation of the property of their own citizens, provided contracts were not impaired, it was only in , by the passage of the fourteenth amendment, that the supreme court of the united states acquired the possibility of becoming the censor of state legislation in such matters. nor did the supreme court accept this burden very willingly or in haste. for a number of years it labored to confine its function to defining the limits of the police power, guarding itself from the responsibility of passing upon the "reasonableness" with which that power was used. it was only by somewhat slow degrees, as the value of the threatened property grew to be vast, that the court was deflected from this conservative course into effective legislation. the first prayers for relief came from the southern states, who were still groaning under reconstruction governments; but as the southern whites were then rather poor, their complaints were neglected. the first very famous cause of this category is known as the slaughter house cases. in the carpet bag government of louisiana conceived the plan of confiscating most of the property of the butchers who slaughtered for new orleans, within a district about as large as the state of rhode island. the fourteenth amendment forbade states to deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law, and the butchers of new orleans prayed for protection, alleging that the manner in which their property had been taken was utterly lawless. but the supreme court declined to interfere, explaining that the fourteenth amendment had been contrived to protect the emancipated slaves, and not to make the federal judiciary "a perpetual censor upon all legislation of the states, on the civil rights of their own citizens, with authority to nullify such as it did not approve."[ ] although, even at that relatively early day, this conservatism met with strong opposition within the court itself, the pressure of vested wealth did not gather enough momentum to overcome the inertia of the bench for nearly another generation. it was the concentration of capital in monopoly, and the consequent effort by the public to regulate monopoly prices, which created the stress which changed the legal equilibrium. the modern american monopoly seems first to have generated that amount of friction, which habitually finds vent in a great litigation, about the year ; but only some years later did the states enter upon a determined policy of regulating monopoly prices by law, with the establishment by the illinois legislature of a tariff for the chicago elevators. the elevator companies resisted, on the ground that regulation of prices in private business was equivalent to confiscation, and so in the supreme court was dragged into this fiercest of controversies, thereby becoming subject to a stress to which no judiciary can safely be exposed. obviously two questions were presented for adjudication: the first, which by courtesy might be termed legal, was whether the fixing of prices by statute was a prerogative which a state legislature might constitutionally exercise at all; the second, which was purely political, was whether, admitting that, in the abstract, such a power could be exercised by the state, illinois had, in this particular case, behaved _reasonably_. the supreme court made a conscientious effort to adhere to the theory of hamilton, that it should, in emergencies like this, use its _judgment_ only, and not its _will_; that it should lay down a rule, not vote on the wisdom of a policy. so the judges decided that, from time immemorial, the fixing of prices in certain trades and occupations had been a legislative function, which they supposed might be classified as a branch of the police power, but they declared that with this expression of opinion their jurisdiction ended. when it came to asking them to criticise the propriety of legislation, it was, in substance, proposing that they should substitute their _will_ for the _will_ of the representatives of the people, which was impossible. i well remember the stir made by the case of munn _v_. illinois.[ ] both in and out of the legal profession, those in harmony with the great vested interests complained that the court had shirked its duty. but these complaints soon ceased, for a movement was in progress which swept, for the moment, all before it. the great aggregations of capital, which had been accumulating ever since the charles river bridge case, not long after munn _v._ illinois attained to a point at which they began to grasp many important prerogatives of sovereignty, and to impose, what was tantamount to, arbitrary taxation upon a large scale. the crucial trial of strength came on the contest for control of the railways, and in that contest concentrated capital prevailed. the supreme court reversed its attitude, and undertook to do that which it had solemnly protested it could not do. it began to censor legislation in the interest of the strongest force for the time being, that force being actually financial. by the year the railway interest had expanded prodigiously. between and the investment in railways had far more than doubled, and, during the last five years of this period, the increment had been at an average of about $ , , annually. at this point the majority of the court yielded, as ordinary political chambers always must yield, to extraordinary pressure. mr. justice bradley, however, was not an ordinary man. he was, on the contrary, one of the ablest and strongest lawyers who sat on the federal bench during the last half of the nineteenth century; and bradley, like story before him, remonstrated against turning the bench of magistrates, to which he belonged, from a tribunal which should propound general rules applicable to all material facts, into a jury to find verdicts on the reasonableness of the votes of representative assemblies. the legislature of minnesota, in , passed a statute to regulate railway rates, and provided that the findings of the commission which it erected to fix those rates should be final. the chicago, milwaukee & st. paul railway contended that this statute was unconstitutional, because it was unreasonable, and the majority of the court sustained their contention.[ ] justices bradley, gray, and lamar dissented, and bradley on this occasion delivered an opinion, from which i shall quote a paragraph or two, since the argument appears to me conclusive, not only from the point of view of law, but of political expediency and of common sense:-- "i cannot agree to the decision of the court in this case. it practically overrules munn _v._ illinois.... the governing principle of those cases was that the regulation and settlement of the fares of railroads and other public accommodations is a legislative prerogative, and not a judicial one. this is a principle which i regard as of great importance.... "but it is said that all charges should be reasonable, and that none but reasonable charges can be exacted; and it is urged that what is a reasonable charge is a judicial question. on the contrary, it is preëminently a legislative one, involving considerations of policy as well as of remuneration.... by the decision now made we declare, in effect, that the judiciary, and not the legislature, is the final arbiter in the regulation of fares and freights of railroads.... it is an assumption of authority on the part of the judiciary which, ... it has no right to make. the assertion of jurisdiction by this court makes it the duty of every court of general jurisdiction, state or federal, to entertain complaints [of this nature], for all courts are bound by the constitution of the united states, the same as we are." there is little to add to these words. when the supreme court thus undertook to determine the reasonableness of legislation it assumed, under a somewhat thin disguise, the position of an upper chamber, which, though it could not originate, could absolutely veto most statutes touching the use or protection of property, for the administration of modern american society now hinges on this doctrine of judicial dispensation under the police power. whether it be a regulation of rates and prices, of hours of labor, of height of buildings, of municipal distribution of charity, of flooding a cranberry bog, or of prescribing to sleeping-car porters duties regarding the lowering of upper berths,--in questions great and small, the courts vote upon the reasonableness of the use of the police power, like any old-fashioned town meeting. there is no rule of law involved. there is only opinion or prejudice, or pecuniary interest. the judges admit frankly that this is so. they avow that they try to weigh public opinion, as well as they can, and then vote. in mr. justice holmes first explained that the police power extended to all great public needs, and then went on to observe that this police power, or extraordinary prerogative, might be put forth by legislatures "in aid of what is sanctioned by usage, or held by ... preponderant opinion to be ... necessary to the public welfare."[ ] a representative chamber reaches its conclusions touching "preponderant opinion" by a simple process, but the influences which sway courts are obscurer,--often, probably, beyond the sphere of the consciousness of the judges themselves. nor is this the worst; for, as i have already explained, the very constitution of a court, if it be a court calculated to do its legitimate work upon a lofty level, precludes it from keeping pace with the movement in science and the arts. necessarily it lags some years behind. and this tendency, which is a benefit in the dispensation of justice as between private litigants, becomes a menace when courts are involved in politics. a long line of sinister precedents crowd unbidden upon the mind. the court of king's bench, when it held hampden to be liable for the ship money, draped the scaffold for charles i. the parliament of paris, when it denounced turgot's edict touching the corvée, threw wide the gate by which the aristocracy of france passed to the guillotine. the ruling of the superior court of the province of massachusetts bay, in the case of the writs of assistance, presaged the american revolution; and the dred scott decision was the prelude to the civil war. the capital essential of justice is that, under like conditions, all should fare alike. the magistrate should be no respecter of persons. the vice of our system of judicial dispensation is that it discriminates among suitors in proportion to their power of resistance. this is so because, under adequate pressure, our courts yield along the path of least resistance. i should not suppose that any man could calmly turn over the pages of the recent volumes of the reports of the supreme court of the united states and not rise from the perusal convinced that the rich and the poor, the strong and the weak, do not receive a common measure of justice before that judgment seat. disregarding the discrimination which is always apparent against those who are unpopular, or who suffer under special opprobrium, as do liquor dealers, owners of lotteries, and the like,[ ] i will take, nearly at random, a couple of examples of rate regulation, where tenderness has been shown property in something approaching to a mathematical ratio to the amount involved. in april, , a record was produced before the supreme court which showed that the state of north dakota had in established rates for elevating and storing grain, which rates the defendant, named brass, who owned a small elevator, alleged to be, to him in particular, _utterly_ ruinous, and to be in general unreasonable. he averred that he used his elevator for the storage of his own grain, that it cost about $ , that he had no monopoly, as there were many hundred such elevators in the state, and, as land fit for the purpose of building elevators was plenty and cheap, that any man could build an elevator in the town in which he lived, as well as he; that the rates he charged were reasonable, and that, were he compelled to receive grain generally at the rates fixed by the statute, he could not store his own grain. all these facts were admitted by demurrer, and brass contended that if any man's property were ever to be held to be appropriated by the public without compensation, and under no form of law at all save a predatory statute, it should be his; but the supreme court voted the dakota statute to be a reasonable exercise of the police power,[ ] and dismissed brass to his fate. the converse case is a very famous one known as smyth _v._ ames,[ ] decided four years later, in . in that case it appeared that the state of nebraska had, in , reduced freight rates within the state about twenty-nine per cent, in order to bring them into some sort of relation to the rates charged in the adjoining state of iowa, which were calculated to be forty per cent lower than the nebraska rates. several of the most opulent and powerful corporations of the union were affected by this law, among others the exceedingly prosperous and influential chicago, burlington & quincy railway. no one pretended that, were the law to be enforced, the total revenues of the burlington would be seriously impaired, nor was it even clear that, were the estimate of reduction, revenue, and cost confined altogether to the commerce carried on within the limits of the state of nebraska, leaving interstate commerce out of consideration, a loss would be suffered during the following year. trade might increase with cheaper rates, or economies might be made by the company, or both causes and many others of increased earnings might combine. corporation counsel, however, argued that, were the principle of the statute admitted, and should all the states through which the line passed do the like, ultimately a point might be reached at which the railway would be unable to maintain, even approximately, its dividend of eight per cent, and that the creation of such a possibility was conceding the power of confiscation, and, therefore, an unreasonable exercise of the police power, by the state of nebraska. with this argument the supreme court concurred. they held the nebraska statute to be unreasonable. very possibly it may have been unsound legislation, yet it is noteworthy that within three years after this decision mr. hill bought the chicago, burlington & quincy, at the rate of $ for every share of stock of the par value of $ , thus fixing forever, on the community tributary to the road, the burden of paying a revenue on just double the value of all the stock which it had been found necessary to issue to build the highway. even at this price mr. hill is supposed to have made a brilliant bargain. this brings me to the heart of my theorem. ever since hamilton's time, it has been assumed as axiomatic, by conservative americans, that courts whose function is to expound a written constitution can and do act as a "barrier to the encroachments and oppressions of the representative body."[ ] i apprehend that courts can perform no such office and that in assuming attributes beyond the limitations of their being they, as history has abundantly proved, not only fail in their object, but shake the foundations of authority, and immolate themselves. hitherto i have confined myself to adducing historical evidence to prove that american courts have, as a whole, been gifted with so little political sagacity that their interference with legislation, on behalf of particular suitors, has, in the end, been a danger rather than a protection to those suitors, because of the animosity which it has engendered. i shall now go further. for the sake of argument i am willing to admit that the courts, in the exercise of the dispensing prerogative, called the police power, have always acted wisely, so much so that every such decree which they have issued may be triumphantly defended upon economic, moral, or social grounds. yet, assuming this to be true, though i think i have shown it to be untrue, the assumption only strengthens my contention, that our courts have ceased to be true courts, and are converted into legislative chambers, thereby promising shortly to become, if they are not already, a menace to order. i take it to be clear that the function of a legislature is to embody the will of the dominant social force, for the time being, in a political policy explained by statutes, and when that policy has reached a certain stage of development, to cause it to be digested, together with the judicial decisions relevant to it, in a code. this process of correlation is the highest triumph of the jurist, and it was by their easy supremacy in this field of thought, that roman lawyers chiefly showed their preeminence as compared with modern lawyers. still, while admitting this superiority, it is probably true that the romans owed much of their success in codification to the greater permanence of the roman legislative tenure of office, and, therefore, stability of policy,--phenomena which were both probably effects of a slower social movement among the ancients. the romans, therefore, had less need than we of a permanent judiciary to counteract the disintegrating tendency of redundant legislation; _a fortiori_, of course, they had still less to isolate the judiciary from political onslaughts which might cause justice to become a series of exceptions to general principles, rather than a code of unvarying rules. it is precisely because they are, and are intended to be, arenas of political combat, that legislatures cannot be trustworthy courts, and it was because this fact was notorious that the founders of this government tried to separate the legislative from the judicial function, and to make this separation the foundation of the new republic. they failed, as i conceive, not because they made their legislatures courts, but because, under the system they devised, their courts have become legislatures. a disease, perhaps, the more insidious of the two. insidious because it undermines, order, while legislative murder and confiscation induce reaction. if a legislative chamber would act as a court, the first necessity is to eliminate its legislative character. for example, the house of lords in england has long discharged the duties of a tribunal of last resort for the empire, and with general approbation, but only because, when sitting as a court, the law lords sit alone. politicians and political influences are excluded. where political influences enter disaster follows. hence the infamous renown of political decisions in legal controversies, such as bills of attainder and _ex post facto_ laws, or special legislation to satisfy claims which could not be defended before legitimate courts, or the scandals always attending the trial of election petitions. the object of true courts is to shield the public from these and kindred abuses. in primitive communities courts are erected to defend the weak against the strong, by correlating local customs in such wise that some general principle can be deduced which shall protect the civil rights of those who cannot protect themselves, against the arbitrary exactions of powerful neighbors. in no community can every person have equal civil rights. that is impossible. civil rights must vary according to status. but such rights as any person may have, those the courts are bound to guard indifferently. if the courts do not perform this, their first and most sacred duty, i apprehend that order cannot be permanently maintained, for this is equality before the law; and equality before the law is the cornerstone of order in every modern state. i conceive that the lawyers of the age of washington were the ablest that america has ever produced. no men ever understood the principle of equality before the law more thoroughly than they, and after the establishment of this government a long series of great and upright magistrates strove, as i have shown, to carry this principle into effect. jay and marshall, story and bradley, and many, many more, struggled, protested, and failed. failed, as i believe, through no fault of their own, but because fortune had placed them in a position untenable for the judge. when plunged in the vortex of politics, courts must waver as do legislatures, and nothing is to me more painful than to watch the process of deterioration by which our judges lose the instinct which should warn them to shun legislation as a breach of trust, and to cleave to those general principles which permit of no exceptions. to illustrate my meaning i shall refer to but one litigation, but that one is so extraordinary that i must deal with it in detail. in the dread of the enhancement of prices by monopoly, as the supreme court itself has explained, caused congress to pass the famous sherman act, which prohibited indiscriminately all monopolies or restraints of trade. presently the government brought a bill to dissolve an obnoxious railway pool, called the trans-missouri freight association, and in the case came up for adjudication. i have nothing to say touching the policy involved. i am only concerned with a series of phenomena, developed through several years, as effects of pressure acting upon a judiciary, exposed as the judiciary, under our system, is exposed. the trans-missouri case was argued on december , , very elaborately and by the most eminent counsel. after long consideration, and profound reflection, mr. justice peckham, speaking for the majority of the tribunal, laid down a general principle in conformity to the legislative will, precisely as marshall had laid down a general principle in the dartmouth college case, or story in the charles river bridge case, or waite in munn _v_. illinois, or bradley in the minnesota rate case. then the process of agitation immediately began. in the words of mr. justice harlan, fifteen years later: "but those who were in combinations that were illegal did not despair. they at once set up the baseless claim that the decision of disturbed the 'business interests of the country,' and let it be known that they would never be content until the rule was established that would permit interstate commerce to be subjected to _reasonable_ restraints."[ ] other great causes, involving the same issue, were tried, the question was repeatedly reargued, but the supreme court tenaciously adhered to its general principle, that, under the sherman act, _all_ restraints of trade, or monopolies, were unlawful, and, therefore, the court had but two matters before it, first to define a restraint of trade or a monopoly, second to determine whether the particular combination complained of fell within that definition. no discretion was permitted. judicial duty ended there. the court being found to be inflexible, recourse was had to congress, and a bill in the form of an amendment to the sherman act was brought into the senate authorizing, in substance, those who felt unsafe under the law, to apply to certain government officials, to be permitted to produce evidence of the reasonable methods they employed, and, if the evidence were satisfactory, to receive, what was tantamount to, an indulgence. the subject thus reopened, the senate committee on the judiciary went into the whole question of monopoly anew, and in senator nelson presented an exhaustive report against the proposed relaxation. thereupon the senate indefinitely postponed further consideration of the amendment. the chief reasons given by senator nelson were summed up in a single sentence: "the defence of reasonable restraint would be made in every case and there would be as many different rules of reasonableness as cases, courts, and juries.... to amend the anti-trust act, as suggested by this bill, would be to entirely emasculate it, and for all practical purposes render it nugatory as a remedial statute.... the act as it exists is clear, comprehensive, certain and highly remedial. it practically covers the field of federal jurisdiction, and is in every respect a model law. to destroy or undermine it at the present juncture, ... would be a calamity. "in view of the foregoing, your committee recommend the indefinite postponement of the bill."[ ] and so the senate did indefinitely postpone the bill. matters stood thus when the government brought process to dissolve the standard oil company, as an unlawful combination. the cause was decided on may , , the chief justice speaking for the majority of the bench, in one of the most suggestive opinions which i have ever read. to me this opinion, like taney's opinion in the charles river bridge case, indicates that the tension had reached the breaking point, the court yielding in all directions at once, while the dominant preoccupation of the presiding judge seemed to be to plant his tribunal in such a position that it could so yield, without stultifying itself hopelessly before the legal profession and the public. in striving to reach this position, however, i apprehend that the chief justice, unreservedly, crossed the chasm on whose brink american jurists had been shuddering for ninety years. the task the chief justice assumed was difficult almost beyond precedent. he proposed to surrender to the vested interests the principle of _reasonableness_ which they demanded, and which the tribunal he represented, together with congress, had refused to surrender for fifteen years. to pacify the public, which would certainly resent this surrender, he was prepared to punish two hated corporations, while he strove to preserve, so far as he could, the respect of the legal profession and of the public, for the court over which he presided, by maintaining a semblance of consistency. to accomplish these contradictory results, the chief justice began, rather after the manner of marshall in marbury _v_. madison, by an extra-judicial disquisition. the object of this disquisition was to justify his admission of the evidence of reasonableness as a defence, although it was not needful to decide that such evidence must be admitted in order to dispose of that particular cause. for the chief justice very readily agreed that the standard oil company was, in fact, an unreasonable restraint of trade, and must be dissolved, no matter whether it were allowed to prove its reasonable methods or not. accordingly, he might have contented himself with stating that, admitting for the sake of argument but without approving, all the defendant advanced, he should sustain the government; but to have so disposed of the case would not have suited his purpose. what the chief justice had it at heart to do was to surrender a fundamental principle, and yet to appear to make no surrender at all. hence, he prepared his preliminary and extra-judicial essay on the human reason, of whose precise meaning, i must admit, i still, after many perusals, have grave doubts. i sometimes suspect that the chief justice did not wish to be too explicit. so far as i comprehend the chief justice, his chain of reasoning amounted to something like this: it was true, he observed, that for fifteen years the supreme court had rejected the evidence of reasonableness which he admitted, and had insisted upon a general principle which he might be supposed to renounce, but this apparent discrepancy involved no contradiction. it was only a progression in thought. for, he continued, the judges who, on various previous occasions, sustained that general principle, must have reached their conclusions by the light of reason; to-day we reach a contrary conclusion, but we also do so by the light of reason; therefore, as all these decisions are guided by the light of reason they fundamentally coincide, however much superficially they may seem to differ.[ ] i have never supposed that this argument carried complete conviction either to the legal profession, to the public, or to congress. certainly, it did not convince mr. justice harlan, who failed to fathom it, and bluntly expressed his astonishment in a dissenting opinion in another cause from which i regret to say i can only quote a couple of paragraphs, although the whole deserves attentive perusal:-- "if i do not misapprehend the opinion just delivered, the court insists that what was said in the opinion in the standard oil case, was in accordance with our previous decisions in the trans-missouri and joint traffic cases, ... if we resort to _reason_. this statement surprises me quite as much as would a statement that black was white or white was black." "but now the court, in accordance with what it denominates the 'rule of reason,' in effect inserts in the act the word 'undue,' which means the same as 'unreasonable,' and thereby makes congress say what it did not say.... and what, since the passage of the act, it has explicitly refused to say.... in short, the court now, by judicial legislation, in effect, amends an act of congress relating to a subject over which that department of the government has exclusive cognizance."[ ] the phenomenon which amazed mr. justice harlan is, i conceive, perfectly comprehensible, if we reflect a little on the conflict of forces involved, and on the path of least resistance open to an american judge seeking to find for this conflict, a resultant. the regulation or the domination of monopoly was an issue going to the foundation of society, and popular and financial energy had come into violent impact in regard to the control of prices. popular energy found vent through congress, while the financiers, as financiers always have and always will, took shelter behind the courts. congress, in , passed a statute to constrain monopolies, against which financiers protested as being a species of confiscation, and which the chief justice himself thought harsh. to this statute the supreme court gave a harsh construction, as the chief justice had more than once pointed out, when he was still an associate upon the bench. from a series of these decisions an appeal had been made to congress, and the senate, in the report from which i have quoted, had sustained the construction given to the statute by the majority of his brethren with whom the chief justice differed. since the last of these decisions, however, the complexion of the bench had been considerably changed by new appointments, much as it had been after hepburn _v_. griswold, and an opportunity seemed to be presented to conciliate every one. in any other country than the united states, a chief justice so situated would doubtless have affirmed the old precedents, permitting himself, at most, to point out the mischief which, he thought, they worked. not so a lawyer nurtured under the american constitutional system, which breeds in the judge the conviction that he is superior to the legislator. his instinct, under adequate pressure, is always to overrule anything repugnant to him that a legitimate legislative assembly may have done. in this instance, had the case been one of first impression, nothing would have been easier than to have nullified the sherman act as an unreasonable exercise of the police power, as judges had been nullifying statutes of which they disapproved for a couple of generations previously; but the case was not one of first impression. on the contrary, the constitutionality of the sherman act had been so often upheld by the judiciary that the chief justice himself admitted that so long as congress allowed him to use his reason, these "contentions [were] plainly foreclosed." therefore, for him the path of least resistance was to use his _reason_, and, as a magistrate, to amend a statute which congress ought to have amended, but had _unreasonably_ omitted to amend. such was the final and logical result of the blending of judicial and legislative functions in a court, as they are blended under the american constitutional system. nor is it unworthy of remark, that the chief justice, in abstaining from questioning the constitutionality of the act, expressly intimated that he did so because, by the use of his reason, he could make that reasonable and constitutional which otherwise might be unreasonable and unconstitutional. the defendants pressed the argument that destroying the freedom of contract, as the sherman law destroyed it, was to infringe upon the "constitutional guaranty of due process of law." to this the chief justice rejoined: "but the ultimate foundation of all these arguments is the assumption that reason may not be resorted to in interpreting and applying the statute.... as the premise is demonstrated to be unsound by the construction we have given the statute," these arguments need no further notice.[ ] should congress amend the sherman act, as it seems somewhat disposed to do, by explicitly enacting the rule of the trans-missouri case, a grave issue would be presented. the chief justice might submit, and thus avert, temporarily at least, a clash; or, he might hold such an amendment unconstitutional as denying to the court the right to administer the law according to due process. a trial of strength would then be imminent. nearly a century ago, jefferson wrote to spencer roane, "the constitution, on this hypothesis, is a mere thing of wax in the hands of the judiciary, which they may twist and shape into any form they please."[ ] and however much we may recoil from admitting jefferson's conclusion to be true, it none the less remains the fact that it has proved itself to be true, and that the people have recognized it to be true, and have taken measures to protect themselves by bringing the judiciary under the same degree of control which they enforce on other legislators. the progression has been steady and uniform, each advance toward an assumption of the legislative function by the judiciary having been counterbalanced by a corresponding extension of authority over the courts by the people. first came the protest against marbury and madison in the impeachment of chase, because, as giles explained, if judges were to annul laws, the dominant party must have on the bench judges they could trust. next the supreme court of new york imagined the theory of the police power, which was adopted by the supreme court of the united states in . but it stood to reason that if judges were to suspend constitutional limitations according to their notions of reasonableness, the people must have the means of securing judges whose views touching reasonableness coincided with their own. and behold, within ten years, by the constitution of , new york adopted an elective judiciary. then followed the dred scott case, the civil war, and the attack on legislative authority in hepburn _v_. griswold. straightway the court received an admonition which it remembered for a generation. somewhat forgetful of this, on may , , chief justice white gave his opinion in the standard oil case, which followed hard upon a number of state decisions intended to override legislation upon several burning social issues. forthwith, in , the proposition to submit all decisions involving a question of constitutional law to a popular vote became an issue in a presidential election. only one step farther could be taken, and that we see being taken all about us. experience has shown, in new york and elsewhere, that an election, even for a somewhat short term, does not bring the judge so immediately under popular control that decisions objectionable to the majority may not be made. hence the recall. the degradation of the judicial function can, in theory at least, go no farther. thus the state courts may be said already to be prostrate, or likely shortly to become prostrate. the united states courts alone remain, and, should there be a struggle between them and congress, the result can hardly be doubted. an event has recently occurred abroad which we may do well to ponder. among european nations england has long represented intelligent conservatism, and at the heart of her conservatism lay the house of lords. through many centuries; and under many vicissitudes this ancient chamber had performed functions of the highest moment, until of late it had come to occupy a position not dissimilar to that which the supreme court of the united states yet holds. on one side it was the highest legal tribunal of the empire, on the other it was a non-representative assembly, seldom indeed originating important legislation, but enjoying an absolute veto on legislation sent it from the commons. one day in a moment of heated controversy the lords vetoed a bill on which the commons had determined. a dissolution followed and the house of lords, as a political power, faded into a shadow; yet, notwithstanding this, its preeminence as a court has remained intact. were a similar clash to occur in america no such result could be anticipated. supposing a president, supported by a congressional majority, were to formulate some policy no more subversive than that which has been formulated by the present british cabinet, and this policy were to be resisted, as it surely would be, by potent financial interests, the conflicting forces would converge upon the supreme court. the courts are always believed to tend toward conservatism, therefore they are generally supported by the conservative interest, both here and elsewhere. in this case a dilemma would be presented. either the judges would seek to give expression to "preponderant" popular opinion, or they would legislate. in the one event they would be worthless as a restraining influence. in the other, i apprehend, a blow would fall similar to the blow which fell upon the house of lords, only it would cut deeper. shearing the house of lords of political power did not dislocate the administration of english justice, because the law lords are exclusively judges. they never legislate. therefore no one denounced them. not even the wildest radical demanded that their tenure should be made elective, much less that they should be subjected to the recall. with us an entirely different problem would be presented for solution. a tribunal, nominally judicial, would throw itself across the path of the national movement. it would undertake to correct a disturbance of the social equilibrium. but what a shifting of the social equilibrium means, and what follows upon tampering with it, is a subject which demands a chapter by itself. footnotes: [ ] cranch . [ ] new jersey _v_. wilson, cranch ; decided in . [ ] coates _v_. mayor of new york, cowen . [ ] charles river bridge _v_. warren bridge, peters , . [ ] boston & maine railroad _v_. county commissioners, maine . [ ] wynehamer _v_. the people, n.y. . [ ] mugler _v._ kansas, u.s. . [ ] fertilizing co. _v_. hyde park, u.s. . [ ] slaughter house cases, wallace , decided in . [ ] u.s. . [ ] chicago, milwaukee & st. paul ry. _v._ minnesota, u.s. , decided march , . [ ] noble state bank _v._ haskell, u.s. . [ ] see the extraordinary case of douglas _v._ kentucky, u.s. , which must be read in connection with gregory _v._ trustees of shelby college, metc. (kentucky) . [ ] brass _v._ north dakota, u.s. . [ ] u.s. . [ ] _the federalist_, no. lxxviii. [ ] u.s. . [ ] th congress, d session, senate, report no. , adverse report by mr. nelson, amending anti-trust act, january , , page . [ ] standard oil company _v_. united states, u.s. . [ ] united states _v_. american tobacco company, u.s. , . [ ] u.s. . [ ] to spencer roane, sept. , , ford, , . chapter iv the social equilibrium i assume it as self-evident that those who, at any given moment, are the strongest in any civilization, will be those who are at once the ruling class, those who own most property, and those who have most influence on legislation. the weaker will fare hardly in proportion to their weakness. such is the order of nature. but, since those are the strongest through whom nature finds it, for the time being, easiest to vent her energy, and as the whole universe is in ceaseless change, it follows that the composition of ruling classes is never constant, but shifts to correspond with the shifting environment. when this movement is so rapid that men cannot adapt themselves to it, we call the phenomenon a revolution, and it is with revolutions that i now have to do. nothing is more certain than that the intellectual adaptability of the individual man is very limited. a ruling class is seldom conscious of its own decay, and most of the worst catastrophes of history have been caused by an obstinate resistance to change when resistance was no longer possible. thus while an incessant alteration in social equilibrium is inevitable, a revolution is a problem in dynamics, on the correct solution of which the fortunes of a declining class depend. for example, the modern english landlords replaced the military feudal aristocracy during the sixteenth century, because the landlords had more economic capacity and less credulity. the men who supplanted the mediaeval soldiers in great britain had no scruple about robbing the clergy of their land, and because of this quality they prospered greatly. ultimately the landlords reached high fortune by controlling the boroughs which had, in the middle ages, acquired the right to return members to the house of commons. their domination lasted long; nevertheless, about , the rising tide of the industrial revolution brought forward another type of mind. flushed by success in the napoleonic wars the tories failed to appreciate that the social equilibrium, by the year , had shifted, and that they no longer commanded enough physical force to maintain their parliamentary ascendancy. they thought they had only to be arrogant to prevail, and so they put forward the duke of wellington as their champion. they could hardly have made a poorer choice. as disraeli has very truly said, "his grace precipitated a revolution which might have been delayed for half a century, and need never have occurred in so aggravated a form." the duke, though a great general, lacked knowledge of england. he began by dismissing william huskisson from his cabinet, who was not only its ablest member, but perhaps the single man among the tories who thoroughly comprehended the industrial age. huskisson's issue was that the franchise of the intolerably corrupt east retford should be given to leeds or manchester. having got rid of huskisson, the duke declared imperiously that he would concede nothing to the disfranchised industrial magnates, nor to the vast cities in which they lived. a dissolution of parliament followed and in the election the tories were defeated. although wellington may not have been a sagacious statesman, he was a capable soldier and he knew when he could and when he could not physically fight. on this occasion, to again quote disraeli, "he rather fled than retired." he induced his friends to absent themselves from the house of lords and permit the reform bill to become law. thus the english tories, by their experiment with the duke of wellington, lost their boroughs and with them their political preeminence, but at least they saved themselves, their families, and the rest of their property. as a class they have survived to this day, although shorn of much of the influence which they might very probably have retained had they solved more correctly the problem of . in sum, they were not altogether impervious to the exigencies of their environment. the french revolution is the classic example of the annihilation of a rigid organism, and it is an example the more worthy of our attention as it throws into terrible relief the process by which an intellectually inflexible race may convert the courts of law which should protect their decline into the most awful engine for their destruction. the essence of feudalism was a gradation of rank, in the nature of caste, based upon fear. the clergy were privileged because the laity believed that they could work miracles, and could dispense something more vital even than life and death. the nobility were privileged because they were resistless in war. therefore, the nobility could impose all sorts of burdens upon those who were unarmed. during the interval in which society centralized and acquired more and more a modern economic form, the discrepancies in status remained, while commensurately the physical or imaginative force which had once sustained inequality declined, until the social equilibrium grew to be extremely unstable. add to this that france, under the monarchy, was ill consolidated. the provinces and towns retained the administrative complexity of an archaic age, even to local tariffs. thus under the monarchy privilege and inequality pervaded every phase of life, and, as the judiciary must be, more or less, the mouthpiece of society, the judiciary came to be the incarnation of caste. speaking broadly, the judicial office, under the monarchy, was vendible. in legal language, it was an incorporeal hereditament. it could be bought and sold and inherited like an advowson, or right to dispose of a cure of souls in the english church, or of a commission in the english army. the system was well recognized and widespread in the eighteenth century, and worked fairly well with the french judiciary for about three hundred years, but it was not adapted to an industrial environment. the judicial career came to be pretty strongly hereditary in a few families, and though the members of these families were, on the whole, self-respecting, honest, and learned, they held office in their own right and not as a public trust. so in england members of the house of commons, who sat for nomination boroughs, did not, either in fact or theory, represent the inhabitants of those boroughs, but patrons; and in like manner french judges could never learn to regard themselves as the trustees of the civil rights of a nation, but as a component part of a class who held a status by private title. looked at as a problem in dynamics the inherent vice in all this kind of property and in all this administrative system, was the decay, after , of the physical force which had engendered it and defended it. as in england the ascendancy of the landlords passed away when england turned from an agricultural into an industrial society, so in france priests and nobles fell into contempt, when most peasants knew that the church could neither harm by its curse nor aid by its blessing, and when commissions in the army were given to children or favorites, as a sort of pension, while the pith of the nation was excluded from military command because it could not prove four quarterings of nobility. hardly an aristocrat in france had shown military talent for a generation, while, when the revolution began, men like jourdan and kleber, ney and augereau, and a host of other future marshals and generals had been dismissed from the army, or were eating out their hearts as petty officers with no hope of advancement. local privileges and inequalities were as intolerable as personal. there were privileged provinces and those administered arbitrarily by the crown, there were a multiplicity of internal tariffs, and endless municipal franchises and monopolies, so much so that economists estimated that, through artificial restraints, one-quarter of the soil of france lay waste. turgot, in his edict on the grain trade, explained that kings in the past by ordinance, or the police without royal authority, had compiled a body "of legislation equivalent to a prohibition of bringing grain into paris," and this condition was universal. one province might be starving and another oppressed with abundance. meanwhile, under the stimulant of applied science, centralization went on resistlessly, and the cost of administration is proportionate to centralization. to bear the burden of a centralized government taxes must be equal and movement free, but here was a rapidly centralizing nation, the essence of whose organism was that taxes should be unequal and that movement should be restricted. as the third quarter of the eighteenth century closed with the death of louis xv, all intelligent french administrators recognized the dilemma; either relief must be given, or france must become insolvent, and revolution supervene upon insolvency. but for the aristocracy revolution had no terrors, for they believed that they could crush revolution as their class had done for a thousand years. robert turgot was born in , of a respectable family. his father educated him for the church, but lack of faith caused him to prefer the magistracy, and on the death of his father he obtained a small place in the court of parliament. afterward he became a master of requests, and served for seven years in that judicial position, before he was made intendant of the province of limousin. even thus early in life turgot showed political sagacity. in an address at the sorbonne he supported the thesis that "well-timed reform alone averts revolution." distinguishing himself as intendant, on the death of louis xv the king called turgot to the council of state, and in august, , turgot became minister of finance. he came in pledged to reform, and by january, , he had formulated his plan. in that month he presented to the king his memorable six edicts, the first of which was the most celebrated state paper he ever wrote. it was the edict for the suppression of the corvée. the corvée threw the burden of maintaining the highways on the peasantry by exacting forced labor. it was admittedly the most hateful, the most burdensome, and the most wasteful of all the bad taxes of the time, and turgot, following the precedent of the roman empire, advised instead a general highway impost. the proposed impost in itself was not considerable, and would not have been extraordinarily obnoxious to the privileged classes, but for the principle of equality by which turgot justified it: "the expenses of government having for their object the interests of all, all should contribute to them; and the more advantages a man has, the more that man should contribute." nor was this the most levelling of turgot's arguments. he pointed out that though originally the exemption from taxation, which the nobility enjoyed, might have been defended on the ground that the nobles were bound to yield military service without pay, such service had long ceased to be performed, while on the contrary titles could be bought for money. hence every wealthy man became a noble when he pleased, and thus exemption from taxation had come to present the line of cleavage between the rich and poor. by this thrust the privileged classes felt themselves wounded in their vitals, and the parliament of paris, the essence of privilege, assumed their defence. to be binding, the edicts had to be registered by the parliament among the laws of france, and parliament declined to make registration on the ground that the edicts were unconstitutional, as subversive of the monarchy and of the principle of order. the opinion of the court was long, but a single paragraph gives its purport: "the first rule of justice is to preserve to every one what belongs to him: this rule consists, not only in preserving the rights of property, but still more in preserving those belonging to the person, which arise from the prerogative of birth and of position.... from this rule of law and equity it follows that every system which, under an appearance of humanity and beneficence, would tend to establish between men an equality of duties, and to destroy necessary distinctions, would soon lead to disorder (the inevitable result of equality), and would bring about the overturn of civil society." this judicial opinion was an enunciation of the archaic law of caste as opposed to the modern law of equality, and the cataclysm of the french revolution hinged upon the incapacity of the french aristocracy to understand that the environment, which had once made caste a necessity, had yielded to another which made caste an impossibility. in vain turgot and his contemporaries of the industrial type, represented in england by adam smith or even by the younger pitt, explained that unless taxes were equalized and movement accelerated, insolvency must supervene, and that a violent readjustment must follow upon insolvency. with their eyes open to the consequences, the nobility and clergy elected to risk revolt, because they did not believe that revolt could prevail against them. nothing is so impressive in the mighty convulsion which ensued as the mental opacity of the privileged orders, which caused them to increase their pressure in proportion as resistance increased, until finally those who were destined to replace them reorganized the courts, that they might have an instrument wherewith to slaughter a whole race down to the women and children. no less drastic method would serve to temper the rigidity of the aristocratic mind. the phenomenon well repays an hour of study. insolvency came within a decade after turgot's fall, as turgot had demonstrated that it must come, and an insolvency immediately precipitated by the rapacity of the court which had most need of caution. the future louis xviii, for example, who was then known as the comte de provence, on one occasion, when the government had made a loan, appropriated a quarter of it, laughingly observing, "when i see others hold out their hands, i hold out my hat." in the need for money became imperative, and, not daring to appeal to the nation, the king convoked an assembly of "notables," that is to say of the privileged. calonne, the minister, proposed pretty much the measures of turgot, and some of these measures the "notables" accepted, but the parliament of paris again intervened and declined to register the laws. the provincial parliaments followed the parliament of paris. after this the king had no alternative but to try the experiment of calling the states-general. they met on may , , and instantly an administrative system, which no longer rested upon a social centre of gravity, crumbled, carrying the judiciary with it. at first the three estates sat separately. if this usage had continued, the clergy and the nobles combined would have annulled every measure voted by the commons. for six weeks the commons waited. then on june , the abbé sieyès said, "let us cut the cable. it is time." so the clergy and the nobility were summoned, and some of the clergy obeyed. this sufficed. on motion of sieyès, the commons proclaimed themselves the national assembly, and the orders fused. immediately caste admitted defeat and through its mouthpiece, the king, commanded the assembly to dissolve. the commons refused to dissolve, and the nobles prepared for a _coup d'etat._ the foreign regiments, in the pay of the government, were stationed about paris, while the bastille, which was supposed to be impregnable, was garrisoned with swiss. in reply, on july , , the citizens of paris stormed the bastille. an unstable social equilibrium had been already converted by pressure into a revolution. nevertheless, excentric as the centre of gravity had now become, it might have been measurably readjusted had the privileged classes been able to reason correctly from premise to conclusion. men like lafayette and mirabeau still controlled the assembly, and if the king and the nobility had made terms, probably the monarchy might have been saved, certainly the massacres would have been averted. as a decaying class is apt to do, the nobility did that which was worst for themselves. becoming at length partly conscious of a lack of physical force in france to crush the revolution, a portion of the nobility, led by the comte d'artois, the future charles x, fled to germany to seek for help abroad, while the bolder remained to plan an attack on the rebellion. on october , , a great military banquet was given at versailles. the king and queen with the dauphin were present. a royalist demonstration began. the bugles sounded a charge, the officers drew their swords, and the ladies of the court tore the tricolor from the soldiers' coats and replaced it with the white cockade. on october , a vast multitude poured out of paris, and marched to versailles. the next day they broke into the palace, killed the guards, and carried the king and queen captive to the tuileries. but louis was so intellectually limited that he could not keep faith with those who wished him well. on july , , the king swore, before half a million spectators, to maintain the new constitution. in that summer he was plotting to escape to metz and join the army which had been collected there under the marquis de bouillé, while bouillé himself, after the rising at nancy, was busy in improving discipline by breaking on the wheel a selection of the soldiers of the swiss regiment of châteauvieux which had refused to march against paris on the th of july, . in october, , louis wrote to the king of spain and other sovereigns to pay no heed to his concessions for he only yielded to duress, and all this even as mirabeau made his supreme effort to save those who were fixed upon destroying themselves. mirabeau sought the king and offered his services. the court sneered at him as a dupe. the queen wrote, "we make use of mirabeau, but we do not take him seriously." when mirabeau awoke to his predicament, he broke out in mixed wrath and scorn: "of what are these people thinking? do they not see the abyss yawning at their feet? both the king and queen will perish, and you will live to see the rabble spurn their corpses." the king and queen, the nobility and clergy, could not see the abyss which mirabeau saw, any more than the lawyers could see it, because of the temper of their minds. in the eye of caste europe was not primarily divided into nations to whom allegiance was due, but into superimposed orders. he who betrayed his order committed the unpardonable crime. death were better than that. but to the true aristocrat it was inconceivable that serfs could ever vanquish nobles in battle. battle must be the final test, and the whole aristocracy of europe was certain, frenchmen knew, to succor the french aristocracy in distress. so in the winter of the french fugitives congregated at coblentz on the german frontier, persuaded that they were performing a patriotic duty in organizing an invasion of their country even should their onset be fatal to their relatives and to their king. and louis doubted not that he also did his duty as a trustee of a divine commission when he in one month swore, before the assembly, to maintain the constitution tendered him, and in the next authorized his brother, the comte d'artois, to make the best combination he could among his brother sovereigns for the gathering of an army to assert his divine prerogative. on june , , louis fled, with his whole family, to join the army of bouillé, with intent to destroy the entire race of traitors from mirabeau and lafayette down to the peasants. he managed so ill that he was arrested at varennes, and brought back whence he came, but he lied and plotted still. two years had elapsed between the meeting of the states-general and the flight to varennes, and in that interval nature had been busy in selecting her new favored class. economists have estimated that the church owned one-third of the land of europe during the middle ages. however this may have been she certainly held a very large part of france. on april , , the assembly declared this territory to be national property, and proceeded to sell it to the peasantry by means of the paper _assignats_ which were issued for the purpose, and were supposed to be secured upon the land. the sales were generally made in little lots, as the sales were made of the public domain in rome under the licinian laws, and with an identical effect. the emperor of germany and the king of prussia met at pilnitz in august, , to consider the conquest of france, and, on the eve of that meeting, the assembly received a report which stated that these lands to the value of a thousand million francs had already been distributed, and that sales were going on. it was from this breed of liberated husbandmen that france drew the soldiers who fought her battles and won her victories for the next five and twenty years. assuming that the type of the small french landholder, both rural and urban, had been pretty well developed by the autumn of , the crisis came rapidly, for the confiscations which created this new energy roused to frenzy, perhaps the most formidable energy which opposed it. the church had not only been robbed of her property but had been wounded in her tenderest part. by a decree of june , , the assembly transferred the allegiance of the french clergy from the pope to the state, and the priesthood everywhere vowed revenge. in may, , the marquis de la rouërie, it is true, journeyed from his home in brittany to germany to obtain the recognition of the royal princes for the insurrection which he contemplated in la vendée, but the insurrection when it occurred was not due so much to him or his kind as to the influence of the nonjuring priests upon the peasant women of the west. the mental condition of the french emigrants at coblentz during this summer of is nothing short of a psychological marvel. they regarded the revolution as a jest, and the flight to the rhine as a picnic. these beggared aristocrats, male and female, would throw their money away by day among the wondering natives, and gamble among themselves at night. if they ever thought of the future it was only as the patricians in pompey's camp thought; who had no time to prepare for a campaign against caesar, because they were absorbed in distributing offices among themselves, or in inventing torments to inflict on the rebels. their chief anxiety was lest the resistance should be too feeble to permit them to glut themselves with blood. the creatures of caste, the emigrants could not conceive of man as a variable animal, or of the birth of a race of warriors under their eyes. to them human nature remained constant. such, they believed, was the immutable will of god. so it came to pass that, as the revolution took its shape, a vast combination among the antique species came semi-automatically into existence, pledged to envelop and strangle the rising type of man, a combination, however, which only attained to maturity in , after the execution of the king. leopold ii, emperor of germany, had hitherto been the chief restraining influence, both at pilnitz and at paris, through his correspondence with his sister, marie antoinette; but leopold died on march , , and was succeeded by francis ii, a fervid reactionist and an obedient son of the church. then caste fused throughout germany, and prussia and austria prepared for war. rouërie had returned to brittany and only awaited the first decisive foreign success to stab the revolution in the back. england also was ripening, and the instinct of caste, incarnated in george iii, found its expression through edmund burke. in burke published his "reflections," and on may , , in a passionate outbreak in the house of commons, he renounced his friendship with fox as a traitor to his order and his god. men of burke's temperament appreciated intuitively that there could be no peace between the rising civilization and the old, one of the two must destroy the other, and very few of them conceived it to be possible that the enfranchised french peasantry and the small bourgeoisie could endure the shock of all that, in their eyes, was intelligent, sacred, and martial in the world. indeed, aristocracy had, perhaps, some justification for arrogance, since the revolt in france fell to its lowest depth of impotence between the meeting at pilnitz in august, , and the reorganization of the committee of public safety in july, . until august, , the executive authority remained with the king, but the court of louis was the focus of resistance to the revolution, and even though a quasi-prisoner the king was still strong. monarchy had a firm hold on liberal nobles like mirabeau and lafayette, on adventurers like dumouriez, and even on lawyers like danton who shrank from excessive cruelty. had the pure royalists been capable of enough intellectual flexibility to keep faith upon any reasonable basis of compromise, even as late as , the revolution might have been benign. in june, , lafayette, who commanded the army of the north, came to paris and not only ventured to lecture the assembly on its duty, but offered to take louis to his army, who would protect him against the jacobins. the court laughed at lafayette as a don quixote, and betrayed his plans to the enemy. "i had rather perish," said the queen, "than be saved by m. de lafayette and his constitutional friends." and in this she only expressed the conviction which the caste to which she belonged held of their duty. cazalés protested to the assembly, "though the king perish, let us save the kingdom." the archduchess christina wrote to her sister, marie antoinette, "what though he be slain, if we shall triumph," and condé, in december, , swore that he would march on lyons, "come what might to the king." france was permeated with archaic thought which disorganized the emerging society until it seemingly had no cohesion. to the french emigrant on the rhine that society appeared like a vile phantom which had but to be exorcised to vanish. and the exorcism to which he had recourse was threats of vengeance, threats which before had terrified, because they had behind them a force which made them good. torture had been an integral part of the old law. the peasant expected it were he insubordinate. death alone was held to be too little to inspire respect for caste. some frightful spectacle was usually provided to magnify authority. thus bouillé broke on the wheel, while the men were yet alive, every bone in the bodies of his soldiers when they disobeyed him; and for scratching louis xv, with a knife, damiens, after indescribable agonies, was torn asunder by horses in paris, before an immense multitude. the french emigrants believed that they had only to threaten with a similar fate men like kellermann and hoche to make them flee without a blow. what chiefly concerned the nobles, therefore, was not to evolve a masterly campaign, but to propound the fundamental principles of monarchy, and to denounce an awful retribution on insurgents. by the middle of july, , the prussians were ready to march, and emperors, kings, and generals were meditating manifestoes. louis sent the journalist mallet du pan to the duke of brunswick, the commander-in-chief, to assist him in his task. on july , and on august , , the king of prussia laid down the law of caste as emphatically as had the parliament of paris some twenty years before. on july , the duke of brunswick pronounced the doom of the conquered. i come, said the king of prussia, to prevent the incurable evils which will result to france, to europe and to all mankind from the spread of the spirit of insubordination, and to this end i shall establish the monarchical power upon a stable basis. for, he continued in the later proclamation, "the supreme authority in france being never ceasing and indivisible, the king could neither be deprived nor voluntarily divest himself of any of the prerogatives of royalty, because he is obliged to transmit them entire with his own crown to his successors." the duke of brunswick's proclamation contained some clauses written expressly for him by mallet du pan, and by limon the royalist. if the palace of the tuileries be forced, if the least violence be offered to their majesties, if they are not immediately set at liberty, then will the king of prussia and the emperor of germany inflict "on those who shall deserve it the most exemplary and ever-memorable avenging punishments." these proclamations reached paris on july , and simultaneously the notorious fersen wrote the queen of france, "you have the manifesto, and you should be content." the court actually believed that, having insulted and betrayed lafayette and all that body of conservative opinion which might have steadied the social equilibrium, they could rely on the fidelity of regiments filled with men against whom the emigrants and their allies, the prussians, had just denounced an agonizing death, such as bouillé's soldiers had undergone, together with the destruction of their homes. all the world knows what followed. the royalists had been gathering a garrison for the tuileries ever since lafayette's visit, in anticipation of a trial of strength with the revolutionists. they had brought thither the swiss guard, fifteen hundred strong; the palace was full of royalist gentlemen; mandat, who commanded the national guard, had been gained over. the approaches were swept by artillery. the court was very confident. on the night of august , mandat was murdered, an insurrectional committee seized the city hall, and when louis xvi came forth to review the troops on the morning of the th of august, they shouted, "vive la nation" and deserted. then the assault came, the swiss guard was massacred, the assembly thrust aside, and the royal family were seized and conveyed to the temple. there the monarchy ended. thus far had the irrational opposition of a moribund type thrown into excentricity the social equilibrium of a naturally conservative people. they were destined to drive it still farther. in this supreme moment, while the prussians were advancing, france had no stable government and very imperfect means of keeping order. all the fighting men she could muster had marched to the frontier, and, even so, only a demoralized mass of levies, under dumouriez and kellermann, lay between the most redoutable regiments of the world and paris. the emigrants and the germans thought the invasion but a military promenade. at home treason to the government hardly cared to hide itself. during much of august the streets of paris swarmed with royalists who cursed the revolution, and with priests more bitter than the royalists. under the windows of louis, as he lay in the temple, there were cries of "long live the king," and in the prisons themselves the nobles drank to the allies and corresponded with the prussians. finally, roland, who was minister, so far lost courage that he proposed to withdraw beyond the loire, but danton would hear of no retreat. "de l'audace," he cried, "encore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace." the assembly had not been responsible for the assault on the tuileries on august , . filled with conservatives, it lacked the energy. that movement had been the work of a knot of radicals which had its centre in danton's club of the cordeliers. under their impulsion the sections of paris chose commissioners who should take possession of the city hall and eject the loyalist council. they did so, and thus danton became for a season the minister of justice and the foremost man in france. danton was a semi-conservative. his tenure of power was the last possibility of averting the terror. the royalists, whom he trusted, themselves betrayed him, and danton fell, to be succeeded by robespierre and his political criminal courts. meanwhile, on september , , the prussian column recoiled before the fire of kellermann's mob of "vagabonds, cobblers and tailors," on the slope of valmy, and with the victory of valmy, the great eighteenth-century readjustment of the social equilibrium of europe passed into its secondary stage. chapter v political courts in the eye of philosophy, perhaps the most alluring and yet illusive of all the phenomena presented by civilization is that which we have been considering. why should a type of mind which has developed the highest prescience when advancing along the curve which has led it to ascendancy, be stricken with fatuity when the summit of the curve is passed, and when a miscalculation touching the velocity of the descent must be destruction? although this phenomenon has appeared pretty regularly, at certain intervals, in the development of every modern nation, i conceive its most illuminating example to be that intellectual limitation of caste which, during the french revolution, led to the creation of those political criminal tribunals which reached perfection with robespierre. when coolly examined, at the distance of a century, the royalist combination for the suppression of equality before the law, as finally evolved in , did not so much lack military intelligence, as it lacked any approximate comprehension of the modern mind. the royalists proposed to reëstablish privilege, and to do this they were ready to immolate, if necessary, their king and queen, and all of their own order who stayed at home to defend them. indeed, speaking generally, they valued louis xvi, living, cheaply enough, counting him a more considerable asset if dead. "what a noise it would make throughout europe," they whispered among themselves, "if the rabble should kill the king." nor did marie antoinette delude herself on this score. at pilnitz, in , the german potentates issued a declaration touching france which was too moderate to suit the emigrants, who published upon it a commentary of their own. this commentary was so revolting that when the queen read her brother-in-law's signature appended to it, she exclaimed--"cain." the royalist plan of campaign was this: they reckoned the energy of the revolution so low that they counted pretty confidently, in the summer of , on the ability of their party to defend the tuileries against any force which could be brought against it; but assuming that the tuileries could not be defended, and that the king and queen should be massacred, they believed that their own position would be improved. their monarchical allies would be thereby violently stimulated. it was determined, therefore, that, regardless of consequences to their friends, the invading army should cross the border into lorraine and, marching by way of sierk and rodemach, occupy châlons. their entry into châlons, which they were confident could not be held against them, because of the feeling throughout the country, was to be the signal for the rising in vendée and brittany which should sweep down upon paris from the rear and make the capital untenable. at châlons the allies would be but ninety miles from paris, and then nothing would remain but vengeance, and vengeance the more complete the greater the crime had been. all went well with them up to valmy. the german advance on august , , reached rodemach, and on august , the bulk of the prussian army crossed the frontier at rédagne. on august , , longwy was invested and in three days capitulated. in the camp of the comte d'artois "there was not one of us," wrote las casas, "who did not see himself, in a fortnight, triumphant, in his own home, surrounded by his humbled and submissive vassals." at length from their bivouacs at saint-remy and at suippes the nobles saw in the distance the towers of châlons. the panic at châlons was so great that orders were given to cut the bridge across the marne, but it was not until about september , that the whole peril was understood at paris. it is true that for several weeks the government had been aware that the west was agitated and that rouërie was probably conspiring among the royalists and nonjuring priests, but they did not appreciate the imminence of the danger. on september , at latest, danton certainly heard the details of the plot from a spy, and it was then, while others quailed, that he incited paris to audacity. this was danton's culmination. as we look back, the weakness of the germans seems to have been psychological rather than physical. at valmy the numbers engaged were not unequal, and while the french were, for the most part, raw and ill-compacted levies, with few trained officers, the german regiments were those renowned battalions of frederick the great whose onset, during the seven years' war, no adversary had been able to endure. yet these redoubtable prussians fell back in confusion without having seriously tried the french position, and their officers, apparently, did not venture to call upon them to charge again. in vain the french gentlemen implored the prussian king to support them if they alone should storm kellermann's batteries. under the advice of the duke of brunswick the king decided on retreat. it is said that the duke had as little heart in the war as charles fox, or, possibly, pitt, or as his own troops. and yet he was so strong that dumouriez, after his victory, hung back and offered the invaders free passage lest the germans, if aroused, should turn on him and fight their way to the marne. to the emigrants the retreat was terrible. it was a disaster from which, as a compact power, they never recovered. the rising in vendée temporarily collapsed with the check at châlons, and they were left literally naked unto their enemy. some of them returned to their homes, preferring the guillotine to starvation, others, disguised in peasants' blouses, tried to reach rouërie in la vendée, some died from hardship, some committed suicide, while the bulk regained liège and there waited as suppliants for assistance from vienna. but these unfortunate men, who had entered so gayly upon a conflict whose significance they could not comprehend, had by this time lost more than lands and castles. many of them had lost wives and children in one of the most frightful butcheries of history, and a butchery for which they themselves were responsible, because it was the inevitable and logical effect of their own intellectual limitations. when, after the affair of august , danton and his party became masters of the incipient republic, paris lay between two perils whose relative magnitude no one could measure. if châlons fell, vendée would rise, and the republicans of the west would be massacred. five months later vendée did rise, and at machecoul the patriots were slaughtered amidst nameless atrocities, largely at the instigation of the priests. in march, , one hundred thousand peasants were under arms. clearly the west could not be denuded of troops, and yet, if châlons were to be made good, every available man had to be hurried to kellermann, and this gigantic effort fell to the lot of a body of young and inexperienced adventurers who formed what could hardly be dignified with the name of an organized administration. for a long time marat, with whom danton had been obliged to coalesce, had been insisting that, if the enemy were to be resisted on the frontier, paris must first be purged, for paris swarmed with royalists wild for revenge, and who were known to be arming. danton was not yet prepared for extermination. he instituted domiciliary visits. he made about three thousand arrests and seized a quantity of muskets, but he liberated most of those who were under suspicion. the crisis only came with the news, on september , of the investment of verdun, when no one longer could doubt that the net was closing about paris. verdun was but three or four days' march from châlons. when the duke of brunswick crossed the marne and brittany revolted, the government would have to flee, as roland proposed, and then the royalists would burst the gates of the prisons and there would be another saint bartholomew. toward four o'clock in the afternoon of september , , the prison of the abbaye was forced and the massacres began. they lasted until september , and through a circular sent out by marat they were extended to lyons, to reims, and to other cities. about prisoners were murdered in paris alone. hardly any one has ever defended those slaughters. even marat called them "disastrous," and yet no one interfered. neither danton, nor roland, nor the assembly, nor the national guard, nor the city of paris, although the two or three hundred ruffians who did the work could have been dispersed by a single company of resolute men, had society so willed it. when robespierre's time came he fell almost automatically. though the head of the despotic "committee of public safety," and nominally the most powerful man in france, he was sent to execution like the vilest and most contemptible of criminals by adversaries who would not command a regiment. the inference is that the september massacres, which have ever since been stigmatized as the deepest stain upon the revolution, were, veritably, due to the royalists, who made with the republicans an issue of self-preservation. for this was no common war. in royalist eyes it was a servile revolt, and was to be treated as servile revolts during the middle ages had always been treated. again and again, with all solemnity, the royalists had declared that were they to return as conquerors no stone of paris should be left standing on another, and that the inhabitants should expire in the ashes of their homes on the rack and the wheel. though danton had many and obvious weaknesses he was a good lawyer, and danton perceived that though he might not have been able to prevent the september massacres, and although they might have been and probably were inevitable under the tension which prevailed, yet that any court, even a political court, would be better than marat's mob. some months later he explained his position to the convention when it was considering the erection of the tribunal which finally sent danton himself to the scaffold. "nothing is more difficult than to define a political crime. but, if a simple citizen, for any ordinary crime, receives immediate punishment, if it is so difficult to reach a political crime, is it not necessary that extraordinary laws ... intimidate the rebels and reach the culpable? here public safety requires strong remedies and terrible measures. i see no compromise between ordinary forms and a revolutionary tribunal. history attests this truth; and since members have dared in this assembly to refer to those bloody days which every good citizen has lamented, i say that, if such a tribunal had then existed, the people who have been so often and so cruelly reproached for them, would never have stained them with blood; i say, and i shall have the assent of all who have watched these movements, that no human power could have checked the outburst of the national vengeance." in this perversion of the courts lay, as i understand it, the foulest horror of the french revolution. it was the effect of the rigidity of privilege, a rigidity which found its incarnation in the judiciary. the constitutional decisions of the parliaments under the old régime would alone have made their continuance impossible, but the worst evil was that, after the shell crumbled, the mind within the shell survived, and discredited the whole regular administration of justice. when the national assembly came to examine grievances it found protests against the judicial system from every corner of france, and it referred these petitions to a committee which reported in august, . setting aside the centralization and consolidation of the system as being, for us, immaterial, the committee laid down four leading principles of reform. first, purchase of place should be abolished, and judicial office should be recognized as a public trust. second, judges should be confined to applying, and restrained from interpreting, the law. that is to say, the judges should be forbidden to legislate. third, the judges should be brought into harmony with public opinion by permitting the people to participate in their appointment. fourth, the tendency toward rigor in criminal cases, which had become a scandal under the old régime, should be tempered by the introduction of the jury. bergasse proposed that judicial appointments should be made by the executive from among three candidates selected by the provincial assemblies. after long and very remarkable debates the plan was, in substance, adopted in may, , except that the assembly decided, by a majority of to , that the judges should be elected by the people for a term of six years, without executive interference. in the debate cazalès represented the conservatives, mirabeau the liberals. the vote was a test vote and shows how strong the conservatives were in the assembly up to the reorganization of the clergy in july, , and the electoral assemblies of the districts, which selected the judges, seem, on the whole, to have been rather more conservative than the assembly. in the election not a sixth of those who were enfranchised voted for the delegates who, in turn, chose the judges, and these delegates were usually either eminent lawyers themselves, or wealthy merchants, or men of letters. the result was a bench not differing much from an old parliament, and equally incapable of understanding the convulsion about them. installed early in , not a year elapsed before these magistrates became as ill at ease as had been those whom they displaced, and in march, , jean debry formally demanded their recall, although their terms properly were to expire in . during the summer of they sank into contempt and, after the massacres, the legislative assembly, just before its dissolution, provided for a new constituency for the judicial elections. this they degraded so far that, out of fifty-one magistrates to be chosen in paris, only twelve were professionally trained. nor did the new courts inspire respect. after the th of august one or two special tribunals were organized to try the swiss guard who surrendered in the palace, and other political offenders, but these proved to be so ineffective that marat thrust them aside, and substituted for them his gangs of murderers. no true and permanent political court was evolved before danton had to deal with the treason of dumouriez, nor was this tribunal perfected before danton gave way to the committee of public safety, when french revolutionary society became incandescent, through universal attack from without and through insurrection within. danton, though an orator and a lawyer, possibly even a statesman, was not competent to cope with an emergency which exacted from a minister administrative genius like that of carnot. danton's story may be briefly told. at once after valmy the convention established the republic; on january , , louis was beheaded; and between these two events a new movement had occurred. the revolutionists felt intuitively that, if they remained shut up at home, with enemies without and traitors within, they would be lost. if the new ideas were sound they would spread, and valmy had proved to them that those ideas had already weakened the invading armies. danton declared for the natural boundaries of france,--the rhine, the alps, and the ocean,--and the convention, on january , , threw dumouriez on holland. this provoked war with england, and then north, south, and east the coalition was complete. it represented at least half a million fighting men. danton, having no military knowledge or experience, fixed his hopes on dumouriez. to danton, dumouriez was the only man who could save france. on november , , dumouriez defeated the austrians at jemmapes; on the th, he entered brussels, and belgium lay helpless before him. on the question of the treatment of belgium, the schism began which ended with his desertion. dumouriez was a conservative who plotted for a royal restoration under, perhaps, louis philippe. the convention, on the contrary, determined to revolutionize belgium, as france had been revolutionized, and to this end cambon proposed to confiscate and sell church land and emit assignats. danton visited dumouriez to attempt to pacify him, but found him deeply exasperated. had danton been more sagacious he would have been suspicious. unfortunately for him he left dumouriez in command. in february, dumouriez invaded holland and was repulsed, and he then fell back to brussels, not strong enough to march to paris without support, it is true, but probably expecting to be strong enough as soon as the vendean insurrection came to a head. doubtless he had relations with the rebels. at all events, on march , the insurrection began with the massacre of machecoul, and on march , , dumouriez wrote a letter to the convention which was equivalent to a declaration of war. he then tried to corrupt his army, but failed, and on april , , fled to the austrians. meanwhile, la vendée was in flames. to appreciate the situation one must read carnot's account of the border during these weeks when he alone, probably, averted some grave disaster. for my purpose it suffices to say that the pressure was intense, and that this intense pressure brought forth the revolutionary tribunal, or the political court. on march , , the convention passed a decree constituting a court of five judges and a jury, to be elected by the convention. to these was joined a public prosecutor. fouquier-tinville afterward attained to a sombre fame in this position. six members of the convention were to sit as a commission to supervise drawing the indictments, the preparation of evidence, and also to advise the prosecutor. the punishments, under the limitations of the penal code and other criminal laws, were to be within the discretion of the court, whose judgments were to be final.[ ] death was accompanied by confiscation of property. considering that this was an extraordinary tribunal, working under extreme tension, which tried persons against whom usually the evidence was pretty conclusive, its record for the first six months was not discreditable. between april and september , , it rendered sixty-three sentences of death, thirteen of transportation, and thirty-eight acquittals. the trials were held patiently, testimony was heard, and the juries duly deliberated. nevertheless the terror deepened as the stress upon the new-born republic increased. nothing more awful can be imagined than the ordeal which france endured between the meeting of the convention in september, , and the completion of the committee of public safety in august, . hemmed in by enemies, the revolution glowed in paris like molten lava, while yet it was torn by faction. conservative opinion was represented by the girondists, radical opinion by the mountain, and between the two lay the plain, or the majority of the convention, who embodied the social centre of gravity. as this central mass swayed, so did supremacy incline. the movement was as accurate as that of any scientific instrument for registering any strain. dumouriez's treason in april left the northern frontier open, save for a few fortresses which still held out. when those should fall the enemy could make a junction with the rebels in vendée. still the girondists kept control, and even elected isnard, the most violent among them, president of the convention. then they had the temerity to arrest a member of the commune of paris, which was the focus of radicalism. that act precipitated the struggle for survival and with it came the change in equilibrium. on june , paris heard of the revolt of lyons and of the massacre of the patriots. the same day the sections invaded the convention and expelled from their seats in the tuileries twenty-seven girondists. the plain or centre now leant toward the mountain, and, on july , the committee of public safety, which had been first organized on april , , directly after dumouriez's treason, was reorganized by the addition of men like saint-just and couthon, with prieur, a lawyer of ability and energy, for president. on july , , the austrians took condé, and on july , valenciennes; while on july , kleber, starving, surrendered mayence. nothing now but their own inertia stood between the allies and la vendée. thither indeed kellermann's men were sent, since they had promised not to serve against the coalition for a year, but even of these a division was surrounded and cut to pieces in the disaster of torfou. a most ferocious civil war soon raged throughout france. caen, bordeaux, lyons, marseilles, declared against the convention. the whole of the northwest was drenched in blood by the chouans. sixty departments were in arms. on august the royalists surrendered toulon to the english, who blockaded the coasts and supplied the needs of the rebels. about paris the people were actually starving. on july robespierre entered the committee of safety; carnot, on august . this famous committee was a council of ten forming a pure dictatorship. on august , the convention decreed the _levée en masse_. when carnot became minister of war to this dictatorship the republic had , demoralized soldiers with the colors, under beaten and discredited commanders. bouillé had conspired against the states-general, lafayette against the legislative assembly, and dumouriez against the convention. one year from that time it had a superb force, , strong, commanded by jourdan and pichegru, hoche, moreau, and bonaparte. above all carnot loved hoche. up to valmy the old regular army, however shaken, had remained as a core. then it became merged in a mass of volunteers, and these volunteers had to be armed and disciplined and fed and led against the greatest and strongest coalition which the modern world had ever seen. france, under camot, became a vast workshop. its most eminent scientific men taught the people how to gather saltpetre and the government how to manufacture powder and artillery. horses had to be obtained. carnot was as reckless of himself as of others. he knew no rest. there was that to be done which had to be done quickly and at any cost; there was that or annihilation. on october , , when the people had gathered in the champ de mars to celebrate the festival of victories, after the president of the convention had proclaimed that the republic had been delivered, carnot announced what had been accomplished. france had won twenty-seven victories, of which eight had been pitched battles. one hundred and twenty lesser combats. france had killed eighty thousand enemies. had taken ninety-one thousand prisoners. also one hundred and sixteen places or towns, six after siege. two hundred and thirty forts or redoubts. three thousand eight hundred cannon. seventy thousand muskets. ninety flags. as benjamin constant has observed, nothing can change the stupendous fact "that the convention found the enemy at thirty leagues from paris, ... and made peace at thirty leagues from vienna." under the stimulus of a change in environment of mind is apt to expand with something of this resistless energy. it did so in the reformation. it may be said almost invariably to do so, when decay does not supervene, and it now concerns us to consider, in some rough way, what the cost to the sinking class of attempting repression may be, when it miscalculates its power in such an emergency. i take it to be tolerably clear that, if the french privileged classes had accepted the reforms of turgot in good faith, and thus had spread the movement of the revolution over a generation, there would have been no civil war and no confiscations, save confiscations of ecclesiastical property. i take it also that there would have been no massacres and no revolutionary tribunals, if france in had fought foreign enemies alone, as england did in . even as it was the courts did not grow thoroughly political until the preservation of the new type of mind came to hinge largely on the extermination of the old. danton's first and relatively benign revolutionary tribunal, established in march, , was reorganized by the committee of public safety in the following autumn, by a series of decrees of which the most celebrated is that of september , touching suspected persons. by these decrees the tribunal was enlarged so that, in the words of danton, every day an aristocratic head might fall. the committee presented a list of judges, and the object of the law was to make the possession of a reactionary mind a capital offence. it is only in extreme exigencies that pure thinking by a single person becomes a crime. ordinarily, a crime consists of a malicious thought coupled with an overt act, but in periods of high tension, the harboring of any given thought becomes criminal. usually during civil wars test oaths are tendered to suspected persons to discover their loyalty. for several centuries the church habitually burnt alive all those who denied the test dogma of transubstantiation, and during the worst spasm of the french revolution to believe in the principle of monarchy and privilege was made capital with confiscation of property. the question which the convention had to meet was how to establish the existence of a criminal mind, when nothing tangible indicated it. the old régime had tortured. to prove heresy the church also had always used torture. the revolution proceeded more mildly. it acted on suspicion. the process was simple. the committee, of whom in this department robespierre was the chief, made lists of those who were to be condemned. there came to be finally almost a complete absence of forms. no evidence was necessarily heard. the accused, if inconvenient, was not allowed to speak. if there were doubt touching the probability of conviction, pressure was put upon the court. i give one or two examples: scellier, the senior associate judge of the tribunal, appears to have been a good lawyer and a fairly worthy man. one day in february, , scellier was at dinner with robespierre, when robespierre complained of the delays of the court. scellier replied that without the observance of forms there could be no safety for the innocent. "bah!" replied robespierre,--"you and your forms: wait; soon the committee will obtain a law which will suppress forms, and then we shall see." scellier ventured no answer. such a law was drafted by couthon and actually passed on prairial (june , ), and yet it altered little the methods of fouquier-tinville as prosecuting officer. scellier having complained of this law of prairial to saint-just, saint-just replied that if he were to report his words, or that he was flinching, to the committee, scellier would be arrested. as arrest was tantamount to sentence of death, scellier continued his work. without reasoning the subject out logically from premise to conclusion, or being, of course, capable of doing so in the mass, frenchmen had collectively received the intuition that everything must be endured for a strong government, and that whatever obstructed that government must be eliminated. for the process of elimination they used the courts. under the conditions in which they were placed by the domestic enemy, they had little alternative. if a political party opposed the dictatorship in the convention, that party must be broken down; if a man seemed likely to become a rival for the dictatorship, that man must be removed; all who conspired against the republic must be destroyed as ruthlessly at home as on the battle-field. the republic was insolvent, and must have money, as it must have men. if the government needed men, it took them,--all. if it needed money, and a man were rich, it did not hesitate to execute him and confiscate his property. there are very famous examples of all these phenomena strewn through the history of the terror. the girondists were liberals. they always had been liberals; they had never conspired against the republic; but they were impracticable. the ablest of them, vergniaud, complained before the tribunal, that he was being tried for what he thought, not for what he had done. this the government denied, but it was true. nay, more; he was tried not for positive but for negative opinions, and he was convicted and executed, and his friends were convicted and executed with him, because, had they remained in the convention, the dictatorship, through their opposition, would have lost its energy. also the form of the conviction was shocking in the extreme. the defence of these twenty-one men was, practically, suppressed, and the jury were directed to bring in a verdict of guilty. still the prosecutions of the girondists stopped here. when they refrained from obstruction, they were spared. danton and his friends may have been, and probably were, whether intentionally or by force of circumstances, a menace to the dictatorship. either robespierre or danton had to be eliminated. there was not room for both. on april , , danton, camille desmoulins, and others were arrested on a warrant signed by such men as cambacérès, carnot, and prieur. carnot in particular was a soldier of the highest character and genius. he would have signed no such warrant had he not thought the emergency pressing. nor was the risk small. danton was so popular and so strong before a jury that the government appears to have distrusted even fouquier-tinville, for an order was given, and held in suspense, apparently to henriot, to arrest the president and the public prosecutor of the revolutionary tribunal, on the day of danton's trial. under such a stimulant fouquier did his best, but he felt himself to be beaten. examining cambon, danton broke out: "do you believe us to be conspirators? look, he laughs, he don't believe it. record that he has laughed." fouquier was at his wits' end. if the next day the jury were asked if they had heard enough, and they answered, "no," there would be an acquittal, and then fouquier's own head would roll into the basket. probably there might even be insurrection. fouquier wrote to the committee that they must obtain from the convention a decree silencing the defence. so grave was the crisis felt to be that the decree was unanimously voted. when fouquier heard that the decree was on its way, he said, with a sigh of relief,--"faith, we need it." but when it was read, danton sprung to his feet, raging, declaring that the public cried out treason upon it. the president adjourned the court while the hall resounded with the protests of the defendants and the shouts of the police as they tore the condemned from the benches which they clutched and dragged them through the corridors toward the prison. they emerged no more until they mounted the carts which took them to the scaffold. nor was it safe to hesitate if one were attached to this court. fouquier had a clerk named paris-fabricius. now paris had been a friend of danton and took his condemnation to heart. he even declined to sign the judgment, which it was his duty to do. the next day, when he presented himself to fouquier, fouquier looked at him sourly, and observed, "we don't want men who reason here; we want business done." the following morning paris did not appear. his friends were disturbed, but he was not to be found. he had been cast into a secret dungeon in the prison of the luxembourg. so, if a man were too rich it might go hard with him. louis-philippe-joseph, duc d'orleans, afterward known as Ã�galité, was one of the most interesting figures among the old nobility. the great-great-great-grandson of louis xiii, he was a distant cousin of louis xvi, and ranked as the first noble of france beyond the royal family. his education had been unfortunate. his father lived with a ballet-dancer, while his mother, the princess henriette de bourbon-conti, scandalized a society which was not easily shocked. during the terror the sans culottes everywhere averred that the duke was the son of a coachman in the service of the banker duruet. doubtless this was false, but the princess had abundant liaisons not much more reputable. left to himself at sixteen years old, Ã�galité led a life of extreme profligacy, but he married one of the most beautiful and charming women of the age, whom he succeeded in inspiring with a devoted affection. born in , his father died in , leaving him, just at the outbreak of the revolution, the master of enormous wealth, and the father of three sons who adored him. the eldest of these was the future king, louis-philippe. the man must have had good in him to have been loved as he was throughout life. he was besides more intelligent touching the revolution and its meaning than any man approaching him in rank in france. the duke, when a young man, served with credit in the navy, but after the battle of ushant, in , where he commanded the blue squadron, he was received with such enthusiasm in paris, that marie-antoinette obtained his dismissal from the service. from this period he withdrew from court and his opposition to the government began. he adopted republican ideas, which he drew from america, and he educated his children as democrats. in he was elected to the states-general, where he supported the fusion of the orders, and attained to a popularity which, on one occasion, according to madame de campan, nearly made the queen faint from rage and grief. it was from the garden of his palace of the palais royal that the column marched on july , wearing his colors, the red, white and blue, to storm the bastille. it seemed that he had only to go on resolutely to thrust the king aside and become the ruler of france. he made no effort to do so. mirabeau is said to have been disgusted with his lack of ambition. he was charitable also, and spent very large sums of money among the poor of paris during the years of distress which followed upon the social disorders. the breach with the court, however, became steadily wider, and finally he adhered to the party of danton and voted for the condemnation of the king. he sent two of his sons to serve in the army. the elder was still with dumouriez at the time of his treason. on april , , when dumouriez's treachery had become known, the assembly ordered the arrest of the whole bourbon family, and among them the duke was apprehended and sent to marseilles. thus it appears that whatever complaint his own order may have had against Ã�galité, the republic certainly had none. no man could have done more for modern france than he. he abandoned his class, renounced his name, gave his money, sent his sons to the war, and voted for his own relative's death. no one feared him, and yet robespierre had him brought to paris and guillotined. his trial was a form. fouquier admitted that he had been condemned before he left marseilles. the duke was, however, very rich and the government needed his money. every one understood the situation. he was told of the order for his arrest one night when at supper in his palace in paris with his friend monsieur de monville. the duke, much moved, asked monville if it were not horrible, after all the sacrifices he had made and all that he had done. "yes, horrible," said monville, coolly, "but what would you have? they have taken from your highness all they could get, you can be of no further use to them. therefore, they will do to you, what i do with this lemon" (he was squeezing a lemon on a sole); "now i have all the juice." and he threw the lemon into the fireplace. but yet even then robespierre was not satisfied. he harbored malice against this fallen man. on the way to the scaffold he ordered the cart, in which the duke sat, to stop before the palais royal, which had been confiscated, in order that the duke might contemplate his last sacrifice for his country. the duke showed neither fear nor emotion. all the world knows the story of the terror. the long processions of carts carrying victims to the guillotine, these increasing in number until after the law of prairial they averaged sixty or seventy a day in paris alone, while in the provinces there was no end. at nantes, carrier could not work fast enough by a court, so he sank boat loads of prisoners in the loire. the hecatombs sacrificed at lyons, and the "red masses" of orange, have all been described. the population of toulon sank from , to , . all those, in fine, were seized and slain who were suspected of having a mind tinged with caste, or of being traitors to the republic. and it was the centre, or the majority of the convention, who did this, by tacitly permitting it to be done. that is to say, france permitted it because the onslaught of the decaying class made atrocities such as these appear to be a condition of self-preservation. i doubt if, in human history, there be such another and so awful an illustration of the possible effects of conservative errors of judgment. for france never loved the terror or the loathsome instruments, such as fouquier-tinville, or carrier, or billaud-varennes, or collot-d'herbois, or henriot, or robespierre, or couthon, who conducted it. on this point there can, i think, be neither doubt nor question. i have tried to show how the terror began. it is easy to show how and why it ended. as it began automatically by the stress of foreign and domestic war, so it ended automatically when that stress was relieved. and the most curious aspect of the phenomenon is that it did not end through the application of force, but by common consent, and when it had ended, those who had been used for the bloody work could not be endured, and they too were put to death. the procession of dates is convincing. when, on july , , robespierre entered the committee of public safety, the fortunes of the republic were near their nadir, but almost immediately, after carnot took the war department on august , they began to mend. on october , , lyons surrendered; on december , , the english evacuated toulon; and, on december , the insurrection in la vendée received its death blow at savenai. there had also been success on the frontiers. carnot put hoche in command in the vosges. on december , , hoche defeated wurmser at freschweiller, when the austrians, abandoning the lines of wissembourg, fell back across the rhine. thus by the end of , save for the great border fortresses of valenciennes and condé to the north, which commanded the road from brussels to paris, the soil of france had been cleared of the enemy, and something resembling domestic tranquillity had been restored at home. simultaneously, as the pressure lessened, rifts began to appear in the knot of men who held the dictatorship in the republic. robespierre, couthon, and saint-just coalesced, and gained control of the police, while billaud-varennes, collot-d'herbois, and, secretly and as far as he dared, barère, formed an opposition. not that the latter were more moderate or merciful than robespierre, but because, in the nature of things, there could be but one dictator, and it became a question of the survival of the fittest. carnot took little or no part in active politics. he devoted himself to the war, but he disapproved of the terror and came to a breach with saint-just. robespierre's power culminated on june , , with the passage of the law of prairial, which put the life of every frenchman in his hand, and after which, save for some dozen or two of his most intimate and devoted adherents like saint-just, couthon, le bas, fouquier, fleuriot the mayor of paris, and henriot, the commander of the national guard, no one felt his head safe on his shoulders. it needed but security on the northern frontier to cause the social centre of gravity to shift and robespierre to fall, and security came with the campaign of fleurus. jourdan and pichegru were in command on the belgian border, and on june , , just sixteen days after the passage of the law of prairial, jourdan won the battle of fleurus. this battle, though not decisive in itself, led to decisive results. it uncovered valenciennes and condé, which were invested, closing the entrance to france. on july , jourdan entered brussels; on july , he won a crushing victory before louvain and the same day namur opened its gates. on july , pichegru, driving the english before him, seized antwerp. no frenchman could longer doubt that france was delivered, and with that certainty the terror ended without a blow. eventually the end must have come, but it came instantly, and, according to the old legend, it came through a man's love for a woman. john lambert tallien, the son of the butler of the marquis of bercy, was born in , and received an education through the generosity of the marquis, who noticed his intelligence. he became a journeyman printer, and one day in the studio of madame lebrun, dressed in his workman's blouse, he met thérézia cabarrus, marquise de fontenay, the most seductive woman of her time, and fell in love with her on the instant. nothing, apparently, could have been more hopeless or absurd. but the revolution came. tallien became prominent, was elected to the convention, grew to be influential, and in september, , was sent to bordeaux, as representative of the chamber, or as proconsul, as they called it. there he, the all-powerful despot, found thérézia, trying to escape to spain, in prison, humble, poor, shuddering in the shadow of the guillotine. he saved her; he carried her through bordeaux in triumph in a car by his side. he took her with him to paris, and there robespierre threw her into prison, and accused tallien of corruption. on june robespierre denounced him to the convention, and on june , , the jacobins struck his name from the list of the club. when fleurus was fought thérézia lay in la force, daily expecting death, while tallien had become the soul of the reactionary party. on the thermidor (july , ) tallien received a dagger wrapped in a note signed by thérézia,--"to-morrow they kill me. are you then only a coward?"[ ] on the morrow the great day had come. saint-just rose in the convention to read a report to denounce billaud, collot, and camot. tallien would not let him be heard. billaud followed him. collot was in the chair. robespierre mounted the tribune and tried to speak. it was not without reason that thérézia afterwards said, "this little hand had somewhat to do with overthrowing the guillotine," for tallien sprang on him, dagger in hand, and, grasping him by the throat, cast him from the tribune, exclaiming, "i have armed myself with a dagger to pierce his heart if the convention dare not order his accusation." then rose a great shout from the centre, "down with the tyrant, arrest him, accuse him!" from the centre, which until that day had always silently supported the robespierrian dictatorship. robespierre for the last time tried to speak, but his voice failed him. "it's danton's blood that chokes him; arrest him, arrest him!" they shouted from the right. robespierre dropped exhausted on a bench, then they seized him, and his brother, and couthon, and saint-just, and ordered that the police should take them to prison. but it was one thing for the convention to seize robespierre singly, and within its own hall; it was quite another for it to hold him and send him to the guillotine. the whole physical force of paris was nominally with robespierre. the mayor, fleuriot, closed the barriers, sounded the tocsin, and forbade any jailer to receive the prisoners; while henriot, who had already been drinking, mounted a horse and galloped forth to rouse the city. fleuriot caused robespierre, couthon, and le bas to be brought to the city hall. a provisional government was completed. it only remained to disperse the assembly. henriot undertook a duty which looked easy. he seems to have collected about twenty guns, which he brought to the tuileries and trained on the hall of the convention. the deputies thought all was over. collot-d'herbois took the chair, which was directly in range, put on his hat, and calmly said, as henriot gave the order to fire, "we can at least die at our post." no volley came--the men had mutinied. then the convention declared henriot beyond the protection of the law, and henriot fled to the city hall. the convention chose barras to command their armed force, but save a few police they had no force. the night was wearing away and fleuriot had not been able to persuade robespierre to take any decisive step. robespierre was, indeed, only a pettifogging attorney. at length he consented to sign an appeal to arms. he had written two letters of his name--"ro"--when a section of police under barras reached the city hall. they were but a handful, but the door was unguarded. they mounted the stairs and as robespierre finished the "o", one of these men, named merda, fired on him, breaking his jaw. the stain of blood is still on the paper where robespierre's head fell. they shot couthon in the leg, they threw henriot out of the window into a cesspool below where he wallowed all night, while le bas blew out his brains. the next day they brought robespierre to the convention, but the convention refused to receive him. they threw him on a table, where he lay, horrible to be seen, his coat torn down the back, his stockings falling over his heels, his shirt open and soaking with blood, speechless, for his mouth was filled with splinters of his broken jaw. such was the man who the morning before had been dictator, and master of all the armies of france. couthon was in little better plight. twenty-one in all were condemned on the thermidor and taken in carts to the guillotine. an awful spectacle. there was robespierre with his disfigured face, half dead, and fleuriot, and saint-just, and henriot next to robespierre, his forehead gashed, his right eye hanging down his cheek, dripping with blood, and drenched with the filth of the sewer in which he had passed the night. under their feet lay the cripple couthon, who had been thrown in like a sack. couthon was paralyzed, and he howled in agony as they wrenched him straight to fasten him to the guillotine. it took a quarter of an hour to finish with him, while the crowd exulted. a hundred thousand people saw the procession and not a voice or a hand was raised in protest. the whole world agreed that the terror should end. but the oldest of those who suffered on the thermidor was couthon, who was thirty-eight, robespierre was thirty-five, and saint-just but twenty-seven. so closed the terror with the strain which produced it. it will remain a by-word for all time, and yet, appalling as it may have been, it was the legitimate and the logical result of the opposition made by caste to the advent of equality before the law. also, the political courts served their purpose. they killed out the archaic mind in france, a mind too rigid to adapt itself to a changing environment. thereafter no organized opposition could ever be maintained against the new social equilibrium. modern france went on steadily to a readjustment, on the basis of unification, simplification of administration, and equality before the law, first under the directory, then under the consulate, and finally under the empire. with the empire the civil code was completed, which i take to be the greatest effort at codification of modern times. certainly it has endured until now. governments have changed. the empire has yielded to the monarchy, the monarchy to the republic, the republic to the empire again, and that once more to the republic, but the code which embodies the principle of equality before the law has remained. fundamentally the social equilibrium has been stable. and a chief reason of this stability has been the organization of the courts upon rational and conservative principles. during the terror france had her fill of political tribunals. since the terror french judges, under every government, have shunned politics and have devoted themselves to construing impartially the code. therefore all parties, and all ranks, and all conditions of men have sustained the courts. in france, as in england, there is no class jealousy touching the control of the judiciary. footnotes: [ ] _histoire du tribunal revolutionaire de paris_, h. wallon, i, . [ ] "c'est demain qu'on me tue; n'êtes-vous donc qu'un lache?" chapter vi inferences as the universe, which at once creates and destroys life, is a complex of infinitely varying forces, history can never repeat itself. it is vain, therefore, to look in the future for some paraphrase of the past. yet if society be, as i assume it to be, an organism operating on mechanical principles, we may perhaps, by pondering upon history, learn enough of those principles to enable us to view, more intelligently than we otherwise should, the social phenomena about us. what we call civilization is, i suspect, only, in proportion to its perfection, a more or less thorough social centralization, while centralization, very clearly, is an effect of applied science. civilization is accordingly nearly synonymous with centralization, and is caused by mechanical discoveries, which are applications of scientific knowledge, like the discovery of how to kindle fire, how to build and sail ships, how to smelt metals, how to prepare explosives, how to make paper and print books, and the like. and we perceive on a little consideration that from the first great and fundamental discovery of how to kindle fire, every advance in applied science has accelerated social movement, until the discovery of steam and electricity in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries quickened movement as movement had never been quickened before. and this quickening has caused the rise of those vast cities, which are at once our pride and our terror. social consolidation is, however, not a simple problem, for social consolidation implies an equivalent capacity for administration. i take it to be an axiom, that perfection in administration must be commensurate to the bulk and momentum of the mass to be administered, otherwise the centrifugal will overcome the centripetal force, and the mass will disintegrate. in other words, civilization would dissolve. it is in dealing with administration, as i apprehend, that civilizations have usually, though not always, broken down, for it has been on administrative difficulties that revolutions have for the most part supervened. advances in administration seem to presuppose the evolution of new governing classes, since, apparently, no established type of mind can adapt itself to changes in environment, even in slow-moving civilizations, as fast as environments change. thus a moment arrives when the minds of any given dominant type fail to meet the demands made upon them, and are superseded by a younger type, which in turn is set aside by another still younger, until the limit of the administrative genius of that particular race has been reached. then disintegration sets in, the social momentum is gradually relaxed, and society sinks back to a level at which it can cohere. to us, however, the most distressing aspect of the situation is, that the social acceleration is progressive in proportion to the activity of the scientific mind which makes mechanical discoveries, and it is, therefore, a triumphant science which produces those ever more rapidly recurring changes in environment to which men must adapt themselves at their peril. as, under the stimulant of modern science, the old types fail to sustain themselves, new types have to be equally rapidly evolved, and the rise of a new governing class is always synonymous with a social revolution and a redistribution of property. the industrial revolution began almost precisely a century and a half ago, since when the scientific mind has continually gained in power, and, during that period, on an average of once in two generations, the environment has so far shifted that a social revolution has occurred, accompanied by the advent of a new favored class, and a readjustment of wealth. i think that a glance at american history will show this estimate to be within the truth. at the same time such rapidity of intellectual mutation is without precedent, and i should suppose that the mental exhaustion incident thereto must be very considerable. in america, in , a well-defined aristocracy held control. as an effect of the industrial revolution upon industry and commerce, the revolutionary war occurred, the colonial aristocracy misjudged the environment, adhered to great britain, were exiled, lost their property, and perished. immediately after the american revolution and also as a part of the industrial revolution, the cotton gin was invented, and the cotton gin created in the south another aristocracy, the cotton planters, who flourished until . at this point the changing of the environment, caused largely by the railway, brought a pressure upon the slave-owners against which they, also failing to comprehend their situation, rebelled. they were conquered, suffered confiscation of their property, and perished. furthermore, the rebellion of the aristocracy at the south was caused, or at all events was accompanied by, the rise of a new dominant class at the north, whose power rested upon the development of steam in transportation and industry. this is the class which has won high fortune by the acceleration of the social movement, and the consequent urban growth of the nineteenth century, and which has now for about two generations dominated in the land. if this class, like its predecessors, has in its turn mistaken its environment, a redistribution of property must occur, distressing, as previous redistributions have been, in proportion to the inflexibility of the sufferers. the last two redistributions have been painful, and, if we examine passing phenomena from this standpoint, they hardly appear to promise much that is reassuring for the future. administration is the capacity of coördinating many, and often conflicting, social energies in a single organism, so adroitly that they shall operate as a unity. this presupposes the power of recognizing a series of relations between numerous special social interests, with all of which no single man can be intimately acquainted. probably no very highly specialized class can be strong in this intellectual quality because of the intellectual isolation incident to specialization; and yet administration or generalization is not only the faculty upon which social stability rests, but is, possibly, the highest faculty of the human mind. it is precisely in this preëminent requisite for success in government that i suspect the modern capitalistic class to be weak. the scope of the human intellect is necessarily limited, and modern capitalists appear to have been evolved under the stress of an environment which demanded excessive specialization in the direction of a genius adapted to money-making under highly complex industrial conditions. to this money-making attribute all else has been sacrificed, and the modern capitalist not only thinks in terms of money, but he thinks in terms of money more exclusively than the french aristocrat or lawyer ever thought in terms of caste. the modern capitalist looks upon life as a financial combat of a very specialized kind, regulated by a code which he understands and has indeed himself concocted, but which is recognized by no one else in the world. he conceives sovereign powers to be for sale. he may, he thinks, buy them; and if he buys them; he may use them as he pleases. he believes, for instance, that it is the lawful, nay more! in america, that it is the constitutional right of the citizen to buy the national highways, and, having bought them, to use them as a common carrier might use a horse and cart upon a public road. he may sell his service to whom he pleases at what price may suit him, and if by doing so he ruins men and cities, it is nothing to him. he is not responsible, for he is not a trustee for the public. if he be restrained by legislation, that legislation is in his eye an oppression and an outrage, to be annulled or eluded by any means which will not lead to the penitentiary. he knows nothing and cares less, for the relation which highways always have held, and always must hold, to every civilized population, and if he be asked to inform himself on such subjects he resents the suggestion as an insult. he is too specialized to comprehend a social relation, even a fundamental one like this, beyond the narrow circle of his private interests. he might, had he so chosen, have evolved a system of governmental railway regulation, and have administered the system personally, or by his own agents, but he could never be brought to see the advantage to himself of rational concession to obtain a resultant of forces. he resisted all restraint, especially national restraint, believing that his one weapon --money--would be more effective in obtaining what he wanted in state legislatures than in congress. thus, of necessity, he precipitates a conflict, instead of establishing an adjustment. he is, therefore, in essence, a revolutionist without being aware of it. the same specialized thinking appears in his reasoning touching actual government. new york city will serve as an illustration. new york has for two generations been noted for a civic corruption which has been, theoretically, abominable to all good citizens, and which the capitalistic class has denounced as abominable to itself. i suspect this to be an imaginative conception of the situation. tammany hall is, i take it, the administrative bureau through which capital purchases its privileges. an incorruptible government would offend capital, because, under such a government, capital would have to obey the law, and privilege would cease. occasionally, tammany grows rapacious and exacts too much for its services. then a reform movement is undertaken, and finally a new management is imposed on tammany; but when tammany has consented to a satisfactory scale of prices, the reform ends. to change the system would imply a shift in the seat of power. in fine, money is the weapon of the capitalist as the sword was the weapon of the mediaeval soldier; only, as the capitalist is more highly specialized than the soldier ever was, he is more helpless when his single weapon fails him. from the days of william the conqueror to our own, the great soldier has been, very commonly, a famous statesman also, but i do not now remember, in english or american history, a single capitalist who has earned eminence for comprehensive statesmanship. on the contrary, although many have participated in public affairs, have held high office, and have shown ability therein, capitalists have not unusually, however unjustly, been suspected of having ulterior objects in view, unconnected with the public welfare, such as tariffs or land grants. certainly, so far as i am aware, no capitalist has ever acquired such influence over his contemporaries as has been attained with apparent ease by men like cromwell, washington, or even jackson. and this leads, advancing in an orderly manner step by step, to what is, perhaps, to me, the most curious and interesting of all modern intellectual phenomena connected with the specialized mind,--the attitude of the capitalist toward the law. naturally the capitalist, of all men, might be supposed to be he who would respect and uphold the law most, considering that he is at once the wealthiest and most vulnerable of human beings, when called upon to defend himself by physical force. how defenceless and how incompetent he is in such exigencies, he proved to the world some years ago when he plunged himself and the country into the great pennsylvania coal strike, with absolutely no preparation. nevertheless, in spite of his vulnerability, he is of all citizens the most lawless.[ ] he appears to assume that the law will always be enforced, when he has need of it, by some special personnel whose duty lies that way, while he may, evade the law, when convenient, or bring it into contempt, with impunity. the capitalist seems incapable of feeling his responsibility, as a member of the governing class, in this respect, and that he is bound to uphold the law, no matter what the law may be, in order that others may do the like. if the capitalist has bought some sovereign function, and wishes to abuse it for his own behoof, he regards the law which restrains him as a despotic invasion of his constitutional rights, because, with his specialized mind, he cannot grasp the relation of a sovereign function to the nation as a whole. he, therefore, looks upon the evasion of a law devised for public protection, but inimical to him, as innocent or even meritorious. if an election be lost, and the legislature, which has been chosen by the majority, cannot be pacified by money, but passes some act which promises to be annoying, the first instinct of the capitalist is to retain counsel, not to advise him touching his duty under the law, but to devise a method by which he may elude it, or, if he cannot elude it, by which he may have it annulled as unconstitutional by the courts. the lawyer who succeeds in this branch of practice is certain to win the highest prizes at the bar. and as capital has had now, for more than one or even two generations, all the prizes of the law within its gift, this attitude of capital has had a profound effect upon shaping the american legal mind. the capitalist, as i infer, regards the constitutional form of government which exists in the united states, as a convenient method of obtaining his own way against a majority, but the lawyer has learned to worship it as a fetich. nor is this astonishing, for, were written constitutions suppressed, he would lose most of his importance and much of his income. quite honestly, therefore, the american lawyer has come to believe that a sheet of paper soiled with printers' ink and interpreted by half-a-dozen elderly gentlemen snugly dozing in armchairs, has some inherent and marvellous virtue by which it can arrest the march of omnipotent nature. and capital gladly accepts this view of american civilization, since hitherto capitalists have usually been able to select the magistrates who decide their causes, perhaps directly through the intervention of some president or governor whom they have had nominated by a convention controlled by their money, or else, if the judiciary has been elective, they have caused sympathetic judges to be chosen by means of a mechanism like tammany, which they have frankly bought. i wish to make myself clearly understood. neither capitalists nor lawyers are necessarily, or even probably, other than conscientious men. what they do is to think with specialized minds. all dominant types have been more or less specialized, if none so much as this, and this specialization has caused, as i understand it, that obtuseness of perception which has been their ruin when the environment which favored them has changed. all that is remarkable about the modern capitalist is the excess of his excentricity, or his deviation from that resultant of forces to which he must conform. to us, however, at present, neither the morality nor the present mental excentricity of the capitalist is so material as the possibility of his acquiring flexibility under pressure, for it would seem to be almost mathematically demonstrable that he will, in the near future, be subjected to a pressure under which he must develop flexibility or be eliminated. there can be no doubt that the modern environment is changing faster than any environment ever previously changed; therefore, the social centre of gravity constantly tends to shift more rapidly; and therefore, modern civilization has unprecedented need of the administrative or generalizing mind. but, as the mass and momentum of modern society is prodigious, it will require a correspondingly prodigious energy to carry it safely from an unstable to a stable equilibrium. the essential is to generate the energy which brings success; and the more the mind dwells upon the peculiarities of the modern capitalistic class, the more doubts obtrude themselves touching their ability to make the effort, even at present, and still more so to make it in the future as the magnitude of the social organism grows. one source of capitalistic weakness comes from a lack of proper instruments wherewith to work, even supposing the will of capital to be good; and this lack of administrative ability is somewhat due to the capitalistic attitude toward education. in the united states capital has long owned the leading universities by right of purchase, as it has owned the highways, the currency, and the press, and capital has used the universities, in a general way, to develop capitalistic ideas. this, however, is of no great moment. what is of moment is that capital has commercialized education. apparently modern society, if it is to cohere, must have a high order of generalizing mind,--a mind which can grasp a multitude of complex relations,--but this is a mind which can, at best, only be produced in small quantity and at high cost. capital has preferred the specialized mind and that not of the highest quality, since it has found it profitable to set quantity before quality to the limit which the market will endure. capitalists have never insisted upon raising an educational standard save in science and mechanics, and the relative overstimulation of the scientific mind has now become an actual menace to order because of the inferiority of the administrative intelligence. yet, even supposing the synthetic mind of the highest power to be increasing in proportion to the population, instead of, as i suspect, pretty rapidly decreasing, and supposing the capitalist to be fully alive to the need of administrative improvements, a phalanx of washingtons would be impotent to raise the administrative level of the united states materially, as long as the courts remain censors of legislation; because the province of the censorial court is to dislocate any comprehensive body of legislation, whose effect would be to change the social status. that was the fundamental purpose which underlay the adoption of a written constitution whose object was to keep local sovereignties intact, especially at the south. jefferson insisted that each sovereignty should by means of nullification protect itself. it was a long step in advance when the nation conquered the prerogative of asserting its own sovereign power through the supreme court. now the intervention of the courts in legislation has become, by the change in environment, as fatal to administration as would have been, in , the success of nullification. i find it difficult to believe that capital, with its specialized views of what constitutes its advantages, its duties, and its responsibilities, and stimulated by a bar moulded to meet its prejudices and requirements, will ever voluntarily assent to the consolidation of the united states to the point at which the interference of the courts with legislation might be eliminated; because, as i have pointed out, capital finds the judicial veto useful as a means of at least temporarily evading the law, while the bar, taken as a whole, quite honestly believes that the universe will obey the judicial decree. no delusion could be profounder and none, perhaps, more dangerous. courts, i need hardly say, cannot control nature, though by trying to do so they may, like the parliament of paris, create a friction which shall induce an appalling catastrophe. true judicial courts, whether in times of peace or of revolution, seldom fail to be a substantial protection to the weak, because they enforce an established _corpus juris_ and conduct trials by recognized forms. it is startling to compare the percentage of convictions to prosecutions, for the same class of offences, in the regular criminal courts during the french revolution, with the percentage in the revolutionary tribunal. and once a stable social equilibrium is reached, all men tend to support judicial courts, if judicial courts exist, from an instinct of self-preservation. this has been amply shown by french experience, and it is here that french history is so illuminating to the american mind. before the revolution france had semi-political courts which conduced to the overthrow of turgot, and, therefore, wrought for violence; but more than this, france, under the old régime, had evolved a legal profession of a cast of mind incompatible with an equal administration of the law. the french courts were, therefore, when trouble came, supported only by a faction, and were cast aside. with that the old régime fell. the young duke of chartres, the son of Ã�galité orleans, and the future louis philippe, has related in his journal an anecdote which illustrates that subtle poison of distrust which undermines all legal authority, the moment that suspicion of political partiality in the judiciary enters the popular mind. in june, , the duke went down from paris to vendôme to join the regiment of dragoons of which he had been commissioned colonel. one day, soon after he joined, a messenger came to him in haste to tell him that a mob had gathered near by who were about to hang two priests. "i ran thither at once," wrote the duke; "i spoke to those who seemed most excited and impressed upon them how horrible it was to hang men without trial; besides, to act as hangmen was to enter a trade which they all thought infamous; that they had judges, and that this was their affair. they answered that their judges were aristocrats, and that they did not punish the guilty." that is to say, although the priests were non-jurors, and, therefore, criminals in the eye of the law, the courts would not enforce the law because of political bias.[ ] "it is your fault," i said to them, "since you elected them [the judges], but that is no reason why you should do justice yourselves." danton explained in the convention that it was because of the deep distrust of the judiciary in the public mind, which this anecdote shows, that the september massacres occurred, and it was because all republicans knew that the state and the army were full of traitors like dumouriez, whom the ordinary courts would not punish, that danton brought forward his bill to organize a true political tribunal to deal with them summarily. when danton carried through this statute he supposed himself to be at the apex of power and popularity, and to be safe, if any man in france were safe. very shortly he learned the error in his calculation. billaud was a member of the committee of public safety, while danton had allowed himself to be dropped from membership. danton had just been married, and to an aristocratic wife, and the turmoil of office had grown to be distasteful to him. on march , , billaud somewhat casually remarked, "we must kill danton;" for in truth danton, with conservative leanings, was becoming a grave danger to the extreme jacobins. had he lived a few months longer he would have been a thermidorist. billaud, therefore, only expressed the prevailing jacobin opinion; so the jacobins arrested danton, camille desmoulins, and his other friends, and danton at once anticipated what would be his doom. as he entered his cell he said to his jailer: "i erected the tribunal. i ask pardon of god and men." but even yet he did not grasp the full meaning of what he had done. at his trial he wished to introduce his evidence fully, protesting "that he should understand the tribunal since he created it;" nevertheless, he did not understand the tribunal, he still regarded it as more or less a court. topino-lebrun, the artist, did understand it. topino sat on the jury which tried danton, and observed that the heart of one of his colleagues seemed failing him. topino took the waverer aside, and said: "this is not a _trial_, it is a _measure_. two men are impossible; one must perish. will you kill robespierre?--no.--then by that admission you condemn danton." lebrun in these few words went to the root of the matter, and stated the identical principle which underlies our whole doctrine of the police power. a political court is not properly a court at all, but an administrative board whose function is to work the will of the dominant faction for the time being. thus a political court becomes the most formidable of all engines for the destruction of its creators the instant the social equilibrium shifts. so danton found, in the spring of , when the equilibrium shifted; and so robespierre, who slew danton, found the next july, when the equilibrium shifted again. danton died on the th april, ; about three months later jourdan won the fleurus campaign. straightway thermidor followed, and the tribunal worked as well for the party of thermidor as it had for the jacobins. carrier, who had wallowed in blood at nantes, as the ideal jacobin, walked behind the cart which carried robespierre to the scaffold, shouting, "down with the tyrant;" but that did not save him. in vain he protested to the convention that, were he guilty, the whole convention was guilty, "down to the president's bell." by a vote of out of , carrier was sent before the tribunal which, even though reorganized, condemned him. thérézia cabarrus gaily presided at the closing of the jacobin club, tallien moved over to the benches on the right, and therefore the court was ruthless to fouquier. on the thermidor, seventy members, officers, or partisans of the commune of paris, were sent to the guillotine in only two batches. on the next day twelve more followed, four of whom were jurymen. fouquier's turn came later. it may also be worth while for americans to observe that a political court is quite as effective against property as against life. the duke of orleans is only the most celebrated example of a host of frenchmen who perished, not because of revenge, fear, or jealousy, but because the party in power wanted their property. the famous law touching suspected persons (loi des suspects) was passed on september , . on october , , that is three weeks afterward, saint-just moved that additional powers should be granted, by the convention, to the committee of public safety, defining, by way of justification for his motion, those who fell within the purview of this law. among these, first of all, came "the rich," who by that fact alone were to be considered, _prima facie_, enemies to their country. as i stated at the beginning of this chapter, history never can repeat itself; therefore, whatever else may happen in the united states, we certainly shall have no revolutionary tribunal like the french tribunal of , but the mechanical principle of the political court always remains the same; it is an administrative board the control of which is useful, or may be even essential, to the success of a dominant faction, and the instinctive comprehension which the american people have of this truth is demonstrated by the determination with which they have, for many years, sought to impose the will of the majority upon the judiciary. other means failing to meet their expectations, they have now hit on the recall, which is as revolutionary in essence as were the methods used during the terror. courts, from the supreme court downward, if purged by recall, or a process tantamount to recall, would, under proper stress, work as surely for a required purpose as did the tribunal supervised by fouquier-tinville. these considerations rather lead me to infer that the extreme complexity of the administrative problems presented by modern industrial civilization is beyond the compass of the capitalistic mind. if this be so, american society, as at present organized, with capitalists for the dominant class, can concentrate no further, and, as nothing in the universe is at rest, if it does not concentrate, it must, probably, begin to disintegrate. indeed we may perceive incipient signs of disintegration all about us. we see, for example, an universal contempt for law, incarnated in the capitalistic class itself, which is responsible for order, and in spite of the awful danger which impends over every rich and physically helpless type should the coercive power collapse. we see it even more distinctly in the chronic war between capital and labor, which government is admittedly unable to control; we see it in the slough of urban politics, inseparable from capitalistic methods of maintaining its ascendancy; and, perhaps, most disquieting of all, we see it in the dissolution of the family which has, for untold ages, been the seat of discipline and the foundation of authority. for the dissolution of the family is peculiarly a phenomenon of our industrial age, and it is caused by the demand of industry for the cheap labor of women and children. napoleon told the lawyers who drafted the code that he insisted on one thing alone. they must fortify the family, for, said he, if the family is responsible to the father and the father to me, i can keep order in france. one of the difficulties, therefore, which capital has to meet, by the aid of such administrative ability as it can command, is how to keep order when society no longer rests on the cohesive family, but on highly volatilized individuals as incohesive as grains of sand. meditating upon these matters, it is hard to resist the persuasion that unless capital can, in the immediate future, generate an intellectual energy, beyond the sphere of its specialized calling, very much in excess of any intellectual energy of which it has hitherto given promise, and unless it can besides rise to an appreciation of diverse social conditions, as well as to a level of political sagacity, far higher than it has attained within recent years, its relative power in the community must decline. if this be so the symptoms which indicate social disintegration will intensify. as they intensify, the ability of industrial capital to withstand the attacks made upon it will lessen, and this process must go on until capital abandons the contest to defend itself as too costly. then nothing remains but flight. under what conditions industrial capital would find migration from america possible, must remain for us beyond the bounds even of speculation. it might escape with little or no loss. on the other hand, it might fare as hardly as did the southern slaveholders. no man can foresee his fate. in the event of adverse fortune, however, the position of capitalists would hardly be improved by the existence of political courts serving a malevolent majority. whatever may be in store for us, here at least, we reach an intelligible conclusion. should nature follow such a course as i have suggested, she will settle all our present perplexities as simply and as drastically as she is apt to settle human perturbations, and she will follow logically in the infinitely extended line of her own most impressive precedents. footnotes: [ ] in these observations on the intellectual tendencies of capital i speak generally. not only individual capitalists, but great corporations, exist, who are noble examples of law-abiding and intelligent citizenship. their rarity, however, and their conspicuousness, seem to prove the general rule. [ ] by the law of november , , priests refusing to swear allegiance to the "civil constitution" of the clergy were punished by loss of pay and of rights of citizenship if they continued their functions. by law of august , , by transportation to cayenne. the life of thomas paine with a history of his literary, political and religious career in america france, and england by moncure daniel conway to which is added a sketch of paine by william cobbett volume i. (of ii) preface to third edition. in the preface to the first edition of this work, it was my painful duty to remark with severity on the dissemination of libels on paine in a work of such importance as mr. leslie stephen's "history of english thought in the eighteenth century." the necessity of doing so was impressed on me by the repetition of some of mr. stephen's unfounded disparagements in mr. o. b. frothingham's "recollections and impressions." i have now the satisfaction of introducing this edition with retractations by both of those authors. mr. frothingham, in a letter which he authorizes me to use, says: "your charge is true, and i hasten to say _peccavi_ the truth is that i never made a study of paine, but took stephen's estimates. now my mistake is clear, and i am willing to stand in the cold with nothing on but a hair shirt your vindication of paine is complete." mr. frothingham adds that in any future edition of his work the statements shall be altered. the note of mr. leslie stephen appeared in the national reformer, september , , to which it was sent by a correspondent, at his desire; for it equally relates to strictures in a pamphlet by the editor of that journal, mr. john m. robertson. "the account which i gave of paine in the book upon the eighteenth century was, i have no doubt, erroneous. my only excuse, if it be an excuse, was the old one, 'pure ignorance.' i will not ask whether or how far the ignorance was excusable. "mr. conway pointed out the error in an article contributed, i think, to the fortnightly review at the time. he has, no doubt, added, since then, to his exposure of my (and other people's) blunders, and i hope to read his book soon. meanwhile, i must state that in consequence of the _fortnightly_ article, i altered the statements in the second edition of my book. i have no copy at hand [mr. s. writes from the country] and cannot say what alterations precisely i made, though it is very possible that they were inadequate, as for certain reasons i was unable to attend properly to the revision. if a third edition should ever be required, i would go into the question more thoroughly. i have since that time read some letters upon paine contributed by mr. conway to the _new york nation_. i had seen the announcement of his new publication, and had made up my mind to take the first opportunity of going into the question again with mr. conway's additional information. i hope that i may be able to write paine's life for the dictionary of national biography, and if so, shall have the best opportunity for putting on record my final judgment it will be a great pleasure to me if i find, as i expect to find, that he was greatly maligned, and to make some redress for my previous misguided remarks." it is indeed to be hoped that mr. stephen will write the life in the dictionary, whose list of subjects for the coming volume, inserted in the _athenæum_ since his above retraction, designates thomas paine as an "infidel" writer. mr. stephen can do much to terminate the carefully fostered ignorance of which he has found himself a victim. in advance of his further treatment of the subject, and with perfect confidence in his justice, i here place by the side of my original criticism a retraction of anything that may seem to include him among authors who have shown a lack of magnanimity towards paine. the general statement (first preface, p. xvi) must, however, remain; for recent discussions reveal a few unorthodox writers willing to throw, or to leave, "a traditionally hated head to the orthodox mob." on the other hand, some apology is due for this phrase. no orthodox mob is found. here and there some halloo of the old paine hunt is heard dying away in the distance, but the conservative religious and political press, american and english, has generally revised the traditional notions, and estimated the evidence with substantial justice. nearly all of the most influential journals have dealt with the evidence submitted; their articles have been carefully read by me, and in very few are the old prejudices against paine discoverable. were these estimates of paine collected with those of former times the volume would measure this century's advance in political liberty, and religious civilization. my occasionally polemical treatment of the subject has been regretted by several reviewers, but its necessity, i submit, is the thing to be regretted. being satisfied that paine was not merely an interesting figure, but that a faithful investigation of his life would bring to light important facts of history, i found it impossible to deal with him as an ordinary subject of inquiry. it were vain to try and persuade people to take seriously a man tarred, feathered, pilloried, pelted. it was not whitewashing paine needed, but removal of the pitch, and release from the pillory. there must first of all be an appeal against such sentence. and because the wrongs represented a league of prejudices, the pleadings had to be in several tribunals--moral, religious, political, social,--before the man could be seen at all, much less accorded the attention necessary for disclosure of the history suppressed through his degradation. paine's personal vindication would still have required only a pamphlet, but that it was ancillary to the historic revelations which constitute the larger part of this work. a wiser writer--unless too wise to touch paine at all--might have concealed such sympathies as those pervading this biography; but where sympathies exist the reader is entitled to know them, and the author subjects himself to a severer self-criticism if only in view of the vigilance he must excite. i have no feeling towards paine inconsistent with recognition of his faults and errors. my vindication of him has been the production of evidence that removed my own early and baseless prejudices, and rendered it possible for me to study his career genuinely, so that others might do the same. the phantasmal paine cleared away, my polemic ends. i have endeavored to portray the real paine, and have brought to light some things unfavorable to him which his enemies had not discovered, and, i believe, could never have discovered. the _errata_ in the first edition are few and of slight importance. i wish to retract a suggestion made in my apology for washington which i have discovered to be erroneous. it was suggested (vol. ii., pp. and ) that washington's failure to answer paine's private letter of september , , asking an explanation of his neglect while he (paine) was in prison and his life in peril, may have been due to its interception by pickering (who had by a suppression of documents sealed the sad fate of his predecessor in office, edmund randolph). i have, however, discovered that paine's letter did reach washington. i would be glad if my own investigations, continued while preparing an edition of paine's works, or any of my reviewers, had enabled me to relieve the shades with which certain famous names are touched by documentary facts in this history. the publication of those relating to gouverneur morris, while american minister in france, was for personal reasons especially painful to myself. though such publication was not of any importance to paine's reputation, it was essential to a fair judgment of others--especially of washington,--and to any clear comprehension of the relations between france and the united states at that period. as the correspondence between gouverneur morris and the french minister concerning paine, after his imprisonment, is in french, and the originals (in paris) are not easily accessible to american and english readers, i have concluded to copy them here. À paris le février pluviôse. le ministre plénipotentiaire des États unis de l'amérique près la république française au ministre des affaires Étrangères. monsieur: thomas paine vient de s'addresser à moi pour que je le reclame comme citoyen des États unis. voici (je crois) les faits que le regardent. il est né en angleterre. devenu ensuite citoyen des États unis il s'y est acquise une grande célébrité par des Écrits révolutionnaires. en consequence il fut adopté citoyen français et ensuite élu membre de la convention. sa conduite depuis cette epoque n'est pas de mon ressort j'ignore la cause de sa détention actuelle dans la prison du luxembourg, mais je vous prie monsieur (si des raisons qui ne me sont pas connues s'opposent à sa liberation) de vouloir bien m'en instruire pour que je puisse les communiquer au gouvernement des États unis. j'ai l'honneur d'être, monsieur, votre très humble serviteur, gouv. morris. paris, ventôse l'an d. de la républic une et indivisible. le ministre des affaires Étrangères au ministre plénipotentiaire des-États unis de l'amérique près la république française. par votre lettre du du mois dernier, vous réclames la liberté de thomas paine, comme citoyen américain. né en angleterre, cet ex-deputé est devenu successivement citoyen américain et citoyen français. en acceptant ce dernier titre et en remplissant une place dans le corps législatif, il s'est soumis aux lois de la république et il a renoncé de fait à la protection que le droit des gens et les traités conclus avec les États unis auraient pu lui assurer. j'ignore les motifs de sa détention mais je dois présumer qu'ils sont bien fondés. je vais néanmoins soumettre au comité de salut public la demande que vous m'avez adressée et je m'empresserai de vous faire connaître sa decision. deforges. the translations of these letters are on page , vol ii., of this work. no other letters on the subject between these ministers are known. the reader may judge whether there is anything in the american minister's application to warrant the opening assertion in that of deforgues. morris forwarded the latter to his government, but withheld his application, of which no copy exists in the state archives at washington. preface. at hornsey, england, i saw a small square mahogany table, bearing at its centre the following words: "this plate is inscribed by thos. clio rickman in remembrance of his dear friend thomas paine, who on this table in the year wrote several of his invaluable works." the works written by paine in rickman's house were the second part of "the rights of man," and "a letter to the addressers." of these two books vast numbers were circulated, and though the government prosecuted them, they probably contributed largely to make political progress in england evolutionary instead of revolutionary. on this table he set forth constitutional reforms that might be peacefully obtained, and which have been substantially obtained and here he warned the "addressers," petitioning the throne for suppression of his works: "it is dangerous in any government to say to a nation, _thou shalt not read_. this is now done in spain, and was formerly done under the old government of france; but it served to procure the downfall of the latter, and is subverting that of the former; and it will have the same tendency in all countries; because thought, by some means or other, is got abroad in the world, and cannot be restrained, though reading may." at this table the quaker chieftain, whom danton rallied for hoping to make revolutions with rose-water, unsheathed his pen and animated his round table of reformers for a conflict free from the bloodshed he had witnessed in america, and saw threatening france. this little table was the field chosen for the battle of free speech; its abundant ink-spots were the shed blood of hearts transfused with humanity. i do not wonder that rickman was wont to show the table to his visitors, or that its present owner, edward truelove--a bookseller who has suffered imprisonment for selling proscribed books,--should regard it with reverence. the table is what was once called a candle-stand, and there stood on it, in my vision, paine's clear, honest candle, lit from his "inner light," now covered by a bushel of prejudice. i myself had once supposed his light an infernal torch; now i sat at the ink-spotted candle-stand to write the first page of this history, for which i can invoke nothing higher than the justice that inspired what thomas paine here wrote. the educated ignorance concerning paine is astounding. i once heard an english prelate speak of "the vulgar atheism of paine." paine founded the first theistic society in christendom; his will closes with the words, "i die in perfect composure, and resignation to the will of my creator, god." but what can be expected of an english prelate when an historian like jared sparks, an old unitarian minister, could suggest that a letter written by franklin, to persuade some one not to publish a certain attack on religion, was "probably" addressed to paine. (franklin's "writings," vol. x., p. .) paine never wrote a page that franklin could have so regarded, nor anything in the way of religious controversy until three years after franklin's death. "the remarks in the above letter," says sparks, "are strictly applicable to the deistical writings which paine afterwards published." on the contrary, they are strictly inapplicable. they imply that the writer had denied a "particular providence," which paine never denied, and it is asked, "if men are so wicked with religion, what would they be without it?" paine's "deism" differed from franklin's only in being more fervently religious. no one who had really read paine could imagine the above question addressed to the author to whom the bishop of llandaff wrote: "there is a philosophical sublimity in some of your ideas when speaking of the creator of the universe." the reader may observe at work, in this example, the tiny builder, prejudice, which has produced the large formation of paine mythology. sparks, having got his notion of paine's religion at secondhand, becomes unwittingly a weighty authority for those who have a case to make out. the american tract society published a tract entitled "don't unchain the tiger," in which it is said: "when an infidel production was submitted--probably by paine--to benjamin franklin, in manuscript, he returned it to the author, with a letter from which the following is extracted: 'i would advise you not to attempt unchaining the tiger, but to burn this piece before it is seen by any other person.'" thus our homer of american history nods, and a tract floats through the world misrepresenting both paine and franklin, whose rebuke is turned from some anti-religious essay against his own convictions. having enjoyed the personal friendship of mr. sparks, while at college, and known his charity to all opinions, i feel certain that he was an unconscious victim of the paine mythology to which he added. his own creed was, in essence, little different from paine's. but how many good, and even liberal, people will find by the facts disclosed in this volume that they have been accepting the paine mythology and contributing to it? it is a notable fact that the most effective distortions of paine's character and work have proceeded from unorthodox writers--some of whom seem not above throwing a traditionally hated head to the orthodox mob. a recent instance is the account given of paine in leslie stephen's "history of english thought in the eighteenth century." on its appearance i recognized the old effigy of paine elaborately constructed by oldys and cheetham, and while writing a paper on the subject (fortnightly review, march, ) discovered that those libels were the only "biographies" of paine in the london library, which (as i knew) was used by mr. stephen. the result was a serious miscarriage of historical and literary justice. in his second edition mr. stephen adds that the portrait presented "is drawn by an enemy," but on this mr. robertson pertinently asks why it was allowed to stand? ("thomas paine: an investigation," by john m. robertson, london, ). mr. stephen, eminent as an agnostic and editor of a biographical dictionary, is assumed to be competent, and his disparagements of a fellow heretic necessitated by verified facts. his scholarly style has given new lease to vulgar slanders. some who had discovered their untruth, as uttered by paine's personal enemies, have taken them back on mr. stephen's authority. even brave o. b. frothingham, in his high estimate of paine, introduces one or two of mr. stephen's depreciations (frothingham's "recollection and impressions," ). there has been a sad absence of magnanimity among eminent historians and scholars in dealing with paine. the vignette in oldys--paine with his "rights of man" preaching to apes;--the tract society's picture of paine's death-bed--hair on end, grasping a bottle,--might have excited their inquiry. goethe, seeing spinoza's face de-monized on a tract, was moved to studies of that philosopher which ended in recognition of his greatness. the chivalry of goethe is indeed almost as rare as his genius, but one might have expected in students of history an historic instinct keen enough to suspect in the real paine some proportion to his monumental mythology, and the pyramidal cairn of curses covering his grave. what other last-century writer on political and religious issues survives in the hatred and devotion of a time engaged with new problems? what power is confessed in that writer who was set in the place of a decadent satan, hostility to him being a sort of sixth point of calvinism, and fortieth article of the church? large indeed must have been the influence of a man still perennially denounced by sectarians after heretical progress has left him comparatively orthodox, and retained as the figure-head of "freethought" after his theism has been abandoned by its leaders. "religion," said paine, "has two principal enemies, fanaticism and infidelity." it was his strange destiny to be made a battle-field between these enemies. in the smoke of the conflict the man has been hidden. in the catalogue of the british museum library i counted entries of books by or concerning thomas paine, who in most of them is a man-shaped or devil-shaped shuttlecock tossed between fanatical and "infidel" rackets. here surely were phenomena enough to attract the historic sense of a scientific age, yet they are counterpart of an historic suppression of the most famous author of his time. the meagre references to paine by other than controversial writers are perfunctory; by most historians he is either wronged or ignored. before me are two histories of "american slavery" by eminent members of congress; neither mentions that paine was the first political writer who advocated and devised a scheme of emancipation. here is the latest "life of washington" ( ), by another member of congress, who manages to exclude even the name of the man who, as we shall see, chiefly converted washington to the cause of independence. and here is a history of the "american revolution" ( ), by john fiske, who, while recognizing the effect of "common sense," reveals his ignorance of that pamphlet, and of all paine's works, by describing it as full of scurrilous abuse of the english people,--whom paine regarded as fellow-sufferers with the americans under royal despotism. it may be said for these contemporaries that the task of sifting out the facts about paine was formidable. the intimidated historians of the last generation, passing by this famous figure, left an historic vacuum, which has been filled with mingled fact and fable to an extent hardly manageable by any not prepared to give some years to the task. our historians, might, however, have read paine's works, which are rather historical documents than literary productions. none of them seem to have done this, and the omission appears in many a flaw in their works. the reader of some documents in this volume, left until now to slumber in accessible archives, will get some idea of the cost to historic truth of this long timidity and negligence. but some of the results are more deplorable and irreparable, and one of these must here be disclosed. in an english friend of paine, redman yorke, visited him in paris. in a letter written at the time yorke states that paine had for some time been preparing memoirs of his own life, and his correspondence, and showed him two volumes of the same. in a letter of jan. , , to jefferson, paine speaks of his wish to publish his works, which will make, with his manuscripts, five octavo volumes of four hundred pages each. besides which he means to publish "a miscellaneous volume of correspondence, essays, and some pieces of poetry." he had also, he says, prepared historical prefaces, stating the circumstances under which each work was written. all of which confirms yorke's statement, and shows that paine had prepared at least two volumes of autobiographic matter and correspondence. paine never carried out the design mentioned to jefferson, and his manuscripts passed by bequest to madame bonneville. this lady, after paine's death, published a fragment of paine's third part of "the age of reason," but it was afterwards found that she had erased passages that might offend the orthodox. madame bonneville returned to her husband in paris, and the french "biographical dictionary" states that in she, as the depositary of paine's papers, began "editing" his life. this, which could only have been the autobiography, was never published. she had become a roman catholic. on returning ( ) to america, where her son, general bonneville, also a catholic, was in military service, she had personal as well as religious reasons for suppressing the memoirs. she might naturally have feared the revival of an old scandal concerning her relations with paine. the same motives may have prevented her son from publishing paine's memoirs and manuscripts. madame bonneville died at the house of the general, in st. louis. i have a note from his widow, mrs. sue bonneville, in which she says: "the papers you speak of regarding thomas paine are all destroyed--at least all which the general had in his possession. on his leaving st. louis for an indefinite time all his effects--a handsome library and valuable papers included--were stored away, and during his absence the store-house burned down, and all that the general stored away were burned." there can be little doubt that among these papers burned in st. louis were the two volumes of paine's autobiography and correspondence seen by redman yorke in . even a slight acquaintance with paine's career would enable one to recognize this as a catastrophe. no man was more intimately acquainted with the inside history of the revolutionary movement, or so competent to record it. franklin had deposited with him his notes and papers concerning the american revolution. he was the only girondist who survived the french revolution who was able to tell their secret history. his personal acquaintance included nearly every great or famous man of his time, in england, america, france. from this witness must have come testimonies, facts, anecdotes, not to be derived from other sources, concerning franklin, goldsmith, ferguson, rittenhouse, rush, fulton, washington, jefferson, monroe, the adamses, lees, morrises, condorcet, vergennes, sievès, lafayette, danton, genet, brissot, robespierre, marat, burke, erskine, and a hundred others. all this, and probably invaluable letters from these men, have been lost through the timidity of a woman before the theological "boycott" on the memory of a theist, and the indifference of this country to its most important materials of history. when i undertook the biography of edmund randolph i found that the great mass of his correspondence had been similarly destroyed by fire in new orleans, and probably a like fate will befall the madison papers, monroe papers, and others, our national neglect of which will appear criminal to posterity. after searching through six states to gather documents concerning randolph which should all have been in washington city, the writer petitioned the library committee of congress to initiate some action towards the preservation of our historical manuscripts. the committee promptly and unanimously approved the proposal, a definite scheme was reported by the librarian of congress, and--there the matter rests. as the plan does not include any device for advancing partisan interests, it stands a fair chance of remaining in our national _oubliette_ of intellectual _desiderata_. in writing the "life of paine" i have not been saved much labor by predecessors in the same field they have all been rather controversial pamphleteers than biographers, and i have been unable to accept any of their statements without verification. they have been useful, however, in pointing out regions of inquiry, and several of them--rickman, sherwin, linton--contain valuable citations from contemporary papers. the truest delineation of paine is the biographical sketch by his friend rickman. the "life" by vale, and sketches by richard carlile, blanchard, and others, belong to the controversial _collectanea_ in which paine's posthumous career is traceable. the hostile accounts of paine, chiefly found in tracts and encyclopaedias, are mere repetitions of those written by george chalmers and james cheetham. the first of these was published in under the title: "the life of thomas pain, author of 'the rights of men,' with a defence of his writings. by francis oldys, a.m., of the university of pennsylvania. london. printed for john stock-dale, pickadilly." this writer, who begins his vivisection of paine by accusing him of adding "e" to his name, assumed in his own case an imposing pseudonym. george chalmers never had any connection with the university of philadelphia, nor any such degree. sherwin ( ) states that chalmers admitted having received l from lord hawksbury, in whose bureau he was a clerk, for writing the book; but though i can find no denial of this i cannot verify it. in his later editions the author claims that his book had checked the influence of paine, then in england, and his "rights of man," which gave the government such alarm that subsidies were paid several journals to counteract their effect. (see the letter of freching, cited from the vansitart papers, british museum, by w. h. smith, in the _century_, august, .) it is noticeable that oldys, in his first edition, entitles his work a "defence" of paine's writings--a trick which no doubt carried this elaborate libel into the hands of many "paineites." the third edition has, "with a review of his writings." in a later edition we find the vignette of paine surrounded by apes. cobbett's biographer, edward smith, describes the book as "one of the most horrible collections of abuse which even that venal day produced." the work was indeed so overweighted with venom that it was sinking into oblivion when cobbett reproduced its libels in america, for which he did penance through many years. my reader will perceive, in the earlier chapters of this work, that chalmers tracked paine in england with enterprise, but there were few facts that he did not manage to twist into his strand of slander. in , not long after paine's death, james cheetham's "life of thomas paine" appeared in new york. cheetham had been a hatter in manchester, england, and would probably have continued in that respectable occupation had it not been for paine. when paine visited england and there published "the rights of man" cheetham became one of his idolaters, took to political writing, and presently emigrated to america. he became editor of _the american citizen_, in new york. the cause of cheetham's enmity to paine was the discovery by the latter that he was betraying the jeffersonian party while his paper was enjoying its official patronage. his exposure of the editor was remorseless; the editor replied with personal vituperation; and paine was about instituting a suit for libel when he died. of cheetham's ingenuity in falsehood one or two specimens may be given. during paine's trial in london, for writing "the rights of man," a hostile witness gave testimony which the judge pronounced "impertinent"; cheetham prints it "important" he says that madame de bonneville accompanied paine on his return from france in ; she did not arrive until a year later. he says that when paine was near his end monroe wrote asking him to acknowledge a debt for money loaned in paris, and that paine made no reply. but before me is monroe's statement, while president, that for his advances to paine "no claim was ever presented on my part, nor is any indemnity now desired." cheetham's book is one of the most malicious ever written, and nothing in it can be trusted. having proposed to myself to write a critical and impartial history of the man and his career, i found the vast paine literature, however interesting as a shadow measuring him who cast it, containing conventionalized effigies of the man as evolved by friend and foe in their long struggle. but that war has ended among educated people. in the laborious work of searching out the real paine i have found a general appreciation of its importance, and it will be seen in the following pages that generous assistance has been rendered by english clergymen, by official persons in europe and america, by persons of all beliefs and no beliefs. in no instance have i been impeded by any prejudice, religious or political. the curators of archives, private collectors, owners of important documents bearing on the subject, have welcomed my effort to bring the truth to light. the mass of material thus accumulated is great, and its compression has been a difficult task. but the interest that led me to the subject has increased at every step; the story has abounded in thrilling episodes and dramatic surprises; and i have proceeded with a growing conviction that the simple facts, dispassionately told, would prove of importance far wider than paine's personality, and find welcome with all students of history. i have brought to my task a love for it, the studies of some years, and results of personal researches made in europe and america: qualifications which i countless than another which i venture to claim--the sense of responsibility, acquired by a public teacher of long service, for his words, which, be they truths or errors, take on life, and work their good or evil to all generations. the life of thomas paine. chapter i. early influences the history here undertaken is that of an english mechanic, of quaker training, caught in political cyclones of the last century, and set at the centre of its revolutions, in the old world and the new. in the church register of euston parish, near thetford, england, occurs this entry: " . joseph pain and frances cocke were married june th." these were the parents of thomas paine. the present rector of euston church, lord charles fitz roy, tells me that the name is there plainly "pain," but in the thetford town-records of that time it is officially entered "joseph paine." paine and cocke are distinguished names in the history of norfolk county. in the sixteenth century newhall manor, on the road between thetford and norwich, belonged to a paine family. in thomas paine, gent., was, by license from queen mary, trustee for the lady elizabeth, daughter of henry viii., by queen anne bullen. in st. thomas church, norwich, stands the monument of sir joseph paine, knt, the most famous mayor and benefactor of that city in the seventeenth century. in st. john the baptist church is the memorial of justice francis cocke (d. ). whether our later joseph and thomas were related to these earlier paines has not been ascertained, but mr. e. chester waters, of london, an antiquarian especially learned in family histories, expressed to me his belief that the norfolk county paines are of one stock. there is equal probability that john cocke, deputy recorder of thetford in , pretty certainly ancestor of thomas paine's mother, was related to richard cock, of norwich, author of "english law, or a summary survey of the household of god upon earth" (london, ). the author of "the rights of man" may therefore be a confutation of his own dictum: "an hereditary governor is as inconsistent as an hereditary author." one thomas payne, of the norfolk county family, was awarded l by the council of state ( ) "for his sufferings by printing a book for the cause of parliament." among the sequestrators of royalist church livings was charles george cock, "student of christian law, of the society of the inner temple, now ( ) resident of norwich." in blomefields "history of norfolk county" other notes may be found suggesting that whatever may have been our author's genealogy he was spiritually descended from these old radicals. at thetford i explored a manuscript--"freeman's register book" ( - )--and found that joseph paine (our author's father) was made a freeman of thetford april , , and henry cock may , . the freemen of this borough were then usually respectable tradesmen. their privileges amounted to little more than the right of pasturage on the commons. the appointment did not imply high position, but popularity and influence. frances cocke had no doubt resided in euston parish, where she was married. she was a member of the church of england and daughter of an attorney of thetford. her husband was a quaker and is said to have been disowned by the society of friends for being married by a priest. a search made for me by official members of that society in norfolk county failed to discover either the membership or disownment of any one of the name. joseph's father, a farmer, was probably a quaker. had the son (b. ) been a quaker by conversion he would hardly have defied the rules of the society at twenty-six. joseph was eleven years younger than his wife. according to oldys he was "a reputable citizen and though poor an honest man," but his wife was "a woman of sour temper and an eccentric character." thomas paine's writings contain several affectionate allusions to his father, but none to his mother. "they say best men are moulded out of faults," and the moulding begins before birth. thomas paine was born january , - , at thetford. the plain brick house was in bridge street (now white hart) and has recently made way for a pretty garden. i was inclined to adopt a more picturesque tradition that the birthplace was in old heathen man street, as more appropriate for a _paien_ (no doubt the origin of paine's name), who also bore the name of the doubting disciple. an appeal for allowances might be based on such a conjunction of auspices, but a manuscript of paine's friend rickman, just found by dr. clair j. grece, identifies the house beyond question. thomas paine is said by most of his biographers to have never been baptized. this rests solely on a statement by oldys: "it arose probably from the tenets of the father, and from the eccentricity of the mother, that our author was never baptized, though he was privately named; and never received, like true christians, into the bosom of any church, though he was indeed confirmed by the bishop of norwich: this last circumstance was owing to the orthodox zeal of mistress cocke, his aunt, a woman of such goodness, that though she lived on a small annuity, she imparted much of this little to his mother. "as he was not baptized, the baptism of thomas pain is not entered on the parish books of thetford. it is a remarkable fact, that the leaves of the two registers of the parishes of st. cuthbert's and st. peter's, in thetford, containing the marriages, births, and burials, from the end of , to the beginning of , have been completely cut out. thus, a felony has been committed against the public, and an injury done to individuals, by a hand very malicious and wholly unknown. whether our author, when he resided in thetford in , looked into these registers for his own birth; what he saw, or what he did, we will not conjecture. they contain the baptism of his sister elizabeth, on the th of august, ." this is oldysian. of course, if there was any mischief paine did it, albeit against his own interests. but a recent examination shows that there has been no mutilation of the registers. st peter's and st. cuthbert's had at the time one minister. in , just before paine's birth, the minister (john price) died, and his successor (thomas vaughan) appears to have entered on his duties in march, . a little before and during this interregnum the registers were neglected. in st cuthbert's register is the entry: "elizabeth, daughter of joseph payne and frances his wife of this parish, was born aug't the th, , baptized september ye , ." this (which oldys has got inaccurately, _suo more_) renders it probable that thomas paine was also baptized. indeed, he would hardly have been confirmed otherwise. the old historian of norfolk county, francis blomefield, introduces us to thetford (sitomagus, tedford, theford, "people of the ford") with a strain of poetry: "no situation but may envy thee, holding such intimacy with the sea, many do that, but my delighted muse says, neptune's fairest daughter is the little ouse." after reading blomefield's history of the ancient town, and that of martin, and after strolling through the quaint streets, i thought some poet should add to this praise for picturesqueness some tribute on thetford's historic vistas. there is indeed "a beauty buried everywhere," as browning says. evelyn, visiting his friend lord arlington at euston in september, , writes: "i went to thetford, the burrough towne, where stand the ruines of a religious house; there is a round mountaine artificially raised, either for some castle or monument, which makes a pretty landscape. as we went and returned, a tumbler shew'd his extraordinary addresse in the warren. i also saw the decoy, much pleas'd with the stratagem." evelyn leaves his own figure, his princely friends, and the tumbler in the foreground of "a pretty landscape" visible to the antiquarian all around thetford, whose roads, fully followed, would lead past the great scenes of english history. in general appearance the town (population under five thousand) conveys the pleasant impression of a fairly composite picture of its eras and generations. there is a continuity between the old grammar school, occupying the site of the ancient cathedral, and a new mechanics' institute in the old guildhall. the old churches summon their flocks from eccentric streets suggestive of literal sheep-paths. of the ignorance with which our democratic age sweeps away as cobwebs fine threads woven by the past around the present, thetford showed few signs, but it is sad to find "guildhall" effacing "heathenman" street, which pointed across a thousand years to the march of the "heathen men" (danes) of anglo-saxon chronicles. "a. . this year the [heathen] army rode across mer-cia into east anglia, and took up their winter quarters in thetford; and the same winter king edmund fought against them, and the danes got the victory, and slew the king, and subdued all the land, and destroyed all the ministers which they came to. the names of their chiefs who slew the king were hingwar and habba." if old heathenman street be followed historically, it would lead to bury st. edmunds, where, on the spot of his coronation, the young king "was placed in a goodly shrine, richly adorned with jewels and precious stones," and a royal saint added to the calendar. the blood of st. edmund reconsecrated thetford. "a. . then at candlemas the king [william rufus] went to hastings, and whilst he waited there for a fair wind he caused the monastery on the field of battle to be consecrated; and he took the staff from herbert losange, bishop of thetford." the letters of this bishop herbert, discovered at brussels, give him an honorable place in the list of thetford authors; wherein also occur the names of richard of thetford, author of a treatise on preaching, jeffrey de rocherio, who began a history of the monarchy, and john brame, writer and translator of various treatises. the works of these thetford authors are preserved at cambridge, england. thetford was, in a way, connected with the first newspaper enterprise. its member of parliament, sir joseph williamson, edited the _london gazette_, established by the crown to support its own policy. the crown claimed the sole right to issue any journal, and its license was necessary for every book. in sir joseph, being secretary of state (he bought the office for l , ), had control of the _gazette_ and of literature. in that year, when milton died, his treatise on "christian doctrine" was brought to williamson for license. he said he could "countenance nothing of milton's writings," and the treatise was locked up by this first english editor, to be discovered a hundred and forty-nine years later. on his way to the grammar school (founded by bequest of sir richard fulmerston, ) paine might daily read an inscription set in the fulmerston almshouse wall: "follow peace and holines with all men without the which no man shall see the lord." but many memorials would remind him of how williamson, a poor rector's son, had sold his talent to a political lord and reached power to buy and sell cabinet offices, while suppressing milton. thomas paine, with more talent than williamson to dispose of, was born in a time semi-barbaric at its best, and savage at its worst. having got in the quaker meeting an old head on his young shoulders, he must bear about a burden against most things around him. the old churches were satanic steeple-houses, and if he strolled over to that in which his parents were married, at euston, its new splendors were accused by surrounding squalor. mr. f. h. millington of thetford, who has told williamson's story,* has made for me a search into paine's time there. "in paine's boyhood [says mr. millington in a letter i have from him] the town (about , inhabitants) possessed a corporation with mayor, aldermen, sword-bearers, macemen, recorder. the corporation was a corrupt body, under the dominance of the duke of grafton, a prominent member of the whig government. both members of parliament (hon. c. fitzroy, and lord augustus fitzroy) were nominees of grafton. the people had no interest and no power, and i do not think politics were of any account in paine's childhood. from paine's 'rights of man' (part ii., p. ) it is clear that his native town was the model in his mind when he wrote on charters and corporations. the lent assizes for the eastern circuit were held here, and paine would be familiar with the procedure and pomp of a court of justice. he would also be familiar with the sight of men and women hung for trivial offences. thetford was on the main road to london, and was a posting centre. * "sir joseph williamson, knt., a.d. - . a page in the history of thetford." a very valuable contribution to local history. paine would be familiar with the faces and equipages of some of the great whig nobles in norfolk. walpole might pass through on his way to houghton. the river ouse was navigable to lynn, and paine would probably go on a barge to that flourishing seaport. bury st. edmunds was a provincial capital for the nobility and gentry of the district. it was twelve miles from thetford, and in closest connection with it the religious life of thetford would be quiet. the churches were poor, having been robbed at the reformation. the quakers were the only non-conformists in the town. there is a tradition that wesley visited the town; if he did paine would no doubt be among his hearers. on the whole, i think it easy to trace in paine's works the influence of his boyhood here. he would see the corrupting influence of the aristocracy, the pomp of law, the evils of the unreformed corporations; the ruins of great ecclesiastical establishments, much more perfect than now, would bring to his mind what a power the church had been. being of a mechanical turn of mind no doubt he had often played about the paper-mill which was, and is, worked by water-power." when paine was a lad the grand gentlemen who purloined parks and mansions from the treasury were sending children to the gallows for small thefts instigated by hunger. in his thirteenth year he might have seen under the shadow of ely minster, in that region, the execution of amy hutchinson, aged seventeen, for poisoning her husband. "her face and hands were smeared with tar, and having a garment daubed with pitch, after a short prayer the executioner strangled her, and twenty minutes after the fire was kindled and burnt half an hour." (notes and queries, september, .) against the prevailing savagery a human protest was rarely heard outside the quaker meeting. whether disowned or not, paine's father remained a quaker, and is so registered at burial; and his eminent son has repeatedly mentioned his own training in the principles of that society. remembering the extent to which paine's quakerism had influenced his political theories, and instances of their bearing on great events, i found something impressive in the little meeting-house in cage lane, thetford. this was his more important birthplace. its small windows and one door open on the tombless graveyard at the back,--perhaps that they might not be smashed by the mob, or admit the ribaldry of the street. the interior is hardly large enough to seat fifty people. plymouth brethren have for some years occupied the place, but i was told that the congregation, reduced to four or five, would soon cease to gather there. adjoining the meeting-house, and in contact with it, stands the ancient cage, which still remains to explain the name "cage lane." in its front are two arches, once iron-grated; at one stood the pillory, at the other the stocks,--the latter remembered by some now living. on "first day," when his schoolmates went in fine clothes to grand churches, to see gay people, and hear fine music, little thomas, dressed in drab, crept affrighted past the stocks to his childhood's pillory in the dismal meeting-house. for him no beauty or mirth, no music but the oaths of the pilloried, or shrieks of those awaiting the gallows, there could be no silent meeting in cage lane. testimonies of the "spirit" against inhumanity, delivered beside instruments of legal torture, bred pity in the child, who had a poetic temperament. the earliest glimpses we have of his childhood are in lines written on a fly caught in a spider's web, and an epitaph for a crow which he buried in the garden: "here lies the body of john crow, who once was high, but now is low; ye brother crows take warning all, for as you rise, so must you fall." this was when he was eight years of age. it seems doubtful whether the child was weeping or smiling, but the humor, if it be such, is grim, and did not last long. he had even then already, as we shall see, gained in the quaker meeting a feeling that "god was too good" to redeem man by his son's death, as his aunt cocke instructed him, and a heart so precocious was a sad birthright in the thetford of that day. we look in vain for anything that can be described as true boyhood in paine. oldys was informed, no doubt rightly, that "he was deemed a sharp boy, of unsettled application; but he left no performances which denote juvenile vigour or uncommon attainments." there are, indeed, various indications that, in one way and another, thetford and quakerism together managed to make the early years of their famous son miserable. had there been no quakerism there had been no thomas paine; his consciousness of this finds full recognition in his works; yet he says: "though i reverence their philanthropy, i cannot help smiling at the conceit, that if the taste of a quaker had been consulted at the creation, what a silent and drab-coloured creation it would have been! not a flower would have blossomed its gaieties, nor a bird been permitted to sing." there is a pathos under his smile at this conceit. paine wrote it in later life, amid the flowers and birds of his garden, which he loved, but whose gaieties he could never imitate. he with difficulty freed himself from his early addiction to an unfashionable garb; he rarely entered a theatre, and could never enjoy cards. by the light of the foregoing facts we may appreciate the few casual reminiscences of his school-days found in paine's writings: "my parents were not able to give me a shilling, beyond what they gave me in education; and to do this they distressed themselves. "my father being of the quaker profession, it was my good fortune to have an exceeding good moral education, and a tolerable stock of useful learning. though i went to the grammar school (the same school, thetford in norfolk, that the present counsellor mingay went to, and under the same master), i did not learn latin, not only because i had no inclination to learn languages, but because of the objection the quakers have against the books in which the language is taught. but this did not prevent me from being acquainted with the subjects of all the latin books used in the school the natural bent of my mind was to science. i had some turn, and i believe some talent, for poetry; but this i rather repressed than encouraged, as leading too much into the field of imagination. "i happened, when a schoolboy, to pick up a pleasing natural history of virginia, and my inclination from that day of seeing the western side of the atlantic never left me." paine does not mention his proficiency in mathematics, for which he was always distinguished. to my own mind his "turn" for poetry possesses much significance in the light of his career. in excluding poets from his "republic" plato may have had more reasons than he has assigned. the poetic temperament and power, repressed in the purely literary direction, are apt to break out in glowing visions of ideal society and fiery denunciations of the unlovely world. paine was not under the master of thetford school (colman), who taught latin, but under the usher, mr. william knowler, who admitted the quaker lad to some intimacy, and related to him his adventures while serving on a man-of-war. paine's father had a small farm, but he also carried on a stay-making business in thetford, and his son was removed from school, at the age of thirteen, to be taught the art and mystery of making stays. to that he stuck for nearly five years. but his father became poorer, his mother probably more discontented, and the boy began to dream over the adventures of master knowler on a man-of-war. chapter ii. early struggles in the middle of the eighteenth century england and france were contending for empire in india and in america. for some service the ship _terrible_, captain death, was fitted out, and thomas paine made an effort to sail on her. it seems, however, that he was overtaken by his father on board, and carried home again. "from this adventure i was happily prevented by the affectionate and moral remonstrances of a good father, who from the habits of his life, being of the quaker profession, looked on me as lost." this privateer lost in an engagement one hundred and seventy-five of its two hundred men. thomas was then in his seventeenth year. the effect of the paternal remonstrances, unsupported by any congenial outlook at thetford, soon wore off, and, on the formal declaration of war against france ( ), he was again seized with the longing for heroic adventure, and went to sea on the _king of prussia_, privateer, captain mendez. of that he soon got enough, but he did not return home. of paine's adventures with the privateer there is no record. of yet more momentous events of his life for some years there is known nothing beyond the barest outline. in his twentieth year he found work in london (with mr. morris, stay-maker, hanover street, longacre), and there remained near two years. these were fruitful years. "as soon as i was able i purchased a pair of globes, and attended the philosophical lectures of martin and ferguson, and became afterwards acquainted with dr. bevis, of the society called the royal society, then living in the temple, and an excellent astronomer." in paine found employment at dover with a stay-maker named grace. in april, , he repaired to sandwich, kent, where he established himself as a master stay-maker. there is a tradition at sandwich that he collected a congregation in his room in the market-place, and preached to them "as an independent, or a methodist" here, at twenty-two, he married mary lambert. she was an orphan and a waiting-woman to mrs. richard solly, wife of a woollen-draper in sandwich. the rev. horace gilder, rector of st. peter's, sandwich, has kindly referred to the register, and finds the entry: "thomas pain, of the parish of st. peters, in the town of sandwich, in kent, bachelor, and mary lambert, of the same parish, spinster, were married in this church, by licence, this th day of sept., , by me william bunce, rector." signed "thomas pain, mary lambert in the presence of thomas taylor, maria solly, john joslin." the young couple began housekeeping on dolphin key, but paine's business did not thrive, and he went to margate. there, in , his wife died, paine then concluded to abandon the stay-making business. his wife's father had once been an exciseman. paine resolved to prepare himself for that office, and corresponded with his father on the subject. the project found favor, and paine, after passing some months of study in london, returned to thetford in july, . here, while acting as a supernumerary officer of excise, he continued his studies, and enjoyed the friendship of mr. cock-sedge, the recorder of thetford. on december, , he was appointed to guage brewers' casks at grantham. on august, , he was set to watch smugglers at alford. thus thomas paine, in his twenty-fifth year, was engaged in executing excise acts, whose application to america prepared the way for independence. under pressure of two great hungers--for bread, for science--the young exciseman took little interest in politics. "i had no disposition for what is called politics. it presented to my mind no other idea than is contained in the word jockey-ship." the excise, though a whig measure, was odious to the people, and smuggling was regarded as not only venial but clever. within two years after an excise of £ per gallon was laid on spirits ( ), twelve thousand persons were convicted for offences against the act, which then became a dead letter. paine's post at alford was a dangerous one. the exciseman who pounced on a party of smugglers got a special reward, but he risked his life. the salary was only fifty pounds, the promotions few, and the excise service had fallen into usages of negligence and corruption to which paine was the first to call public attention. "after tax, charity, and fitting expenses are deducted, there remains very little more than forty-six pounds; and the expenses of housekeeping in many places cannot be brought under fourteen pounds a year, besides the purchase at first, and the hazard of life, which reduces it to thirty-two pounds per annum, or one shilling and ninepence farthing per day." it is hardly wonderful that paine with his globes and scientific books should on one occasion have fallen in with the common practice of excisemen called "stamping,"--that is, setting down surveys of work on his books, at home, without always actually travelling to the traders' premises and examining specimens. these detective rounds were generally offensive to the warehouse people so visited, and the scrutiny had become somewhat formal. for this case of "stamping," frankly confessed, paine was discharged from office, august, .* * i am indebted to mr. g. j. holyoake for documents that shed full light on an incident which oldys has carefully left in the half-light congenial to his insinuations. the minute of the board of excise, dated august, , is as follows: "thomas paine, officer of alford (lincolnshire), grantham collection, having on july th stamped the whole ride, as appears by the specimens not being signed in any part thereof, though proper entry was shown in journal, and the victuallers stocks drawn down in his books as if the same had been surveyed that day, as by william swallow, supervisor's letter of rd instant, and the collector's report thereon, also by the said paine's own confession of the th instant, ordered to be discharged; that robert peat, dropped malt assistant in lynn collection, succeed him." the following is paine's petition for restoration: "london, july , . honourable sirs,--in humble obedience to your honours' letter of discharge hearing date august , , i delivered up my commission and since that time have given you no trouble. i confess the justice of your honours' displeasure and humbly beg to add my thanks for the candour and lenity with which you at that unfortunate time indulged me. and though the nature of the report and my own confession cut off all expectations of enjoying your honours' favour then, yet i humbly hope it has not finally excluded me therefrom, upon which hope i humbly presume to entreat your honours to restore me. the time i enjoyed my former commission was short and unfortunate--an officer only a single year. no complaint of the least dishonesty or intemperance ever appeared against me; and, if i am so happy as to succeed in this, my humble petition, i will endeavour that my future conduct shall as much engage your honours' approbation as my former has merited your displeasure. i am, your honours' most dutiful humble servant, thomas paine." board's minute: "july , . ordered that he be restored on a proper vacancy." mr. s. f. dun, for thirty-three years an officer of excise, discovered the facts connected with paine's discharge, and also saw paine's letter and entry books. in a letter before me he says: "i consider mr. paine's restoration as creditable to him as to the then board of excise." after paine's dismission he supported himself as a journeyman with mr. gudgeon, a stay-maker of diss, norfolk, where he is said to have frequently quarrelled with his fellow-workmen. to be cast back on the odious work, to be discharged and penniless at twenty-eight, could hardly soothe the poor man's temper, and i suppose he did not remain long at diss. he is traceable in in lincolnshire, by his casual mention of the date in connection with an incident related in his fragment on "forgetfulness." he was on a visit at the house of a widow lady in a village of the lincolnshire fens, and as they were walking in the garden, in the summer evening, they beheld at some distance a white figure moving. he quitted mrs. e. and pursued the figure, and when he at length reached out his hand, "the idea struck me," he says, "will my hand pass through the air, or shall i feel anything?" it proved to be a love-distracted maiden who, on hearing of the marriage of one she supposed her lover, meant to drown herself in a neighboring pond. that thomas paine should sue for an office worth, beyond its expenses, thirty-two pounds, argues not merely penury, but an amazing unconsciousness, in his twenty-ninth year, of his powers. in london, for some months there stood between him and starvation only a salary of twenty-five pounds, given him by a mr. noble for teaching english in his academy in goodman's fields. this was the year , for though paine was restored to the excise on july th of this year no place was found for him. in january, , he was employed by mr. gardiner in his school at kensington. rickman and others have assigned to this time paine's attendance of lectures at the royal society, which i have however connected with his twentieth year. he certainly could not have afforded globes during this pauperized year . in reply to rickman's allusion to the lowly situations he had been in at this time, paine remarked: "here i derived considerable information; indeed i have seldom passed five minutes of my life, however circumstanced, in which i did not acquire some knowledge." according to oldys he remained in the school at kensington but three months. "his desire of preaching now returned on him," says the same author, "but applying to his old master for a certificate of his qualifications, to the bishop of london, mr. noble told his former usher, that since he was only an english scholar he could not recommend him as a proper candidate for ordination in the church." it would thus appear that paine had not parted from his employer in goodman's fields in any unpleasant way. of his relation with his pupils only one trace remains--a letter in which he introduces one of them to general knox, september , : "old friend, i just take the opportunity of sending my respects to you by mr. darby, a gentleman who was formerly a pupil of mine in england." oldys says that paine, "without regular orders," preached in moorfields and elsewhere in england, "as he was urged by his necessities or directed by his spirit." although paine's friendly biographers have omitted this preaching episode, it is too creditable to paine's standing with the teacher with whom he had served a year for oldys to have invented it. it is droll to think that the church of england should ever have had an offer of thomas paine's services. the quakerism in which he had been nurtured had never been formally adopted by him, and it offered no opportunities for the impulse to preach which seems to mark a phase in the life of every active english brain. on may , , paine was appointed excise officer at grampound, cornwall, but "prayed leave to wait another vacancy." on february , , he was appointed officer at lewes, sussex, whither, after a brief visit to thetford, he repaired. not very unlike the old norfolk borough in which paine was born was lewes, and with even literally an ouse flowing through it here also marched the "heathen men," who have left only the legend of a wounded son of harold nursed into health by a christian maiden. the ruined castle commands a grander landscape than the height of thetford, and much the same historic views. seven centuries before paine opened his office in lewes came harold's son, possibly to take charge of the excise as established by edward the confessor, just deceased. "paine" was an historic name in lewes also. in two french refugees, william and aaron paine, came to the ancient town, and found there as much religious persecution as in france. it was directed chiefly against the quakers. but when thomas paine went to dwell there the quakers and the "powers that be" had reached a _modus vivendi_, and the new exciseman fixed his abode with a venerable friend, samuel ollive, a tobacconist. the house then adjoined a quaker meetinghouse, now a unitarian chapel. it is a quaint house, always known and described as "the house with the monkey on it." the projecting roof is supported by a female nondescript rather more human than anthropoid. i was politely shown through the house by its occupant, mr. champion, and observed in the cellar traces of samuel ollive's--afterward paine's--tobacco mill. the best room upstairs long bore on its wall "tom paine's study." the plaster has now flaked off, but the proprietor, mr. alfred hammond, told me that he remembers it there in . not far from the house is the old mansion of the shelleys,--still called "the shelleys,"--ancestors of a poet born with the "rights of man," and a child of paine's revolution. and--such are the moral zones and poles in every english town--here in the graveyard of jireh chapel--is the tomb of william huntington s. s. [sinner saved] bearing this epitaph: "here lies the coalheaver, beloved of god, but abhorred of men: the omniscient judge, at the grand assize, shall ratify and confirm that to the confusion of many thousands; for england and its metropolis shall know that there hath been a prophet among them. w. h: s. s." while paine was at lewes this hunt _alias_ huntington was a pious tramp in that part of england, well known to the police. yet in his rubbish there is one realistic story of tramp-life which incidentally portrays an exciseman of the time. huntington (born ), one of the eleven children of a day-laborer earning from seven to nine shillings a week in kent, was sent by some friends to an infant school. "and here i remember to have heard my mistress reprove me for something wrong, telling me that god almighty took notice of children's sins. it stuck to my conscience a great while; and who this god almighty could be i could not conjecture; and how he could know my sins without asking my mother i could not conceive. at that time there was a person named godfrey, an exciseman in the town, a man of a stern and hard-favoured countenance, whom i took notice of for having a stick covered with figures, and an ink-bottle hanging at the button-hole of his coat. i imagined that man to be employed by god almighty to take notice, and keep an account of children's sins; and once i got into the market-house, and watched him very narrowly, and found that he was always in a hurry by his walking so fast; and i thought he had need to hurry, as he must have a deal to do to find out all the sins of children. i watched him out of one shop into another, all about the town, and from that time eyed him as a most formidable being, and the greatest enemy i had in all the world." to the shopkeepers this exciseman was really an adversary and an accuser, and one can well believe that his very physiognomy would be affected by such work, and the chronic consciousness of being unwelcome. we may picture paine among the producers of lewes--with but four or five thousand people, then a notorious seat of smugglers--with his stick and ink-bottle; his face prematurely aged, and gathering the lines and the keen look which mask for casual eyes the fundamental candor and kindliness of his face. paine's surveys extended to brighton; the brilliant city of our time being then a small fishing-town known as brighthelmston. it was scarce ten miles distant, and had no magistrates, offenders being taken to lewes. there was a good deal of religious excitement in the neighborhood about the time paine went there to reside, owing to the preaching of rev. george whitefield, chaplain of lady huntingdon, at a chapel built by her ladyship at brighthelmston. lady huntingdon already had a quasi-miraculous fame which in catholic times would have caused her to be honored as st. selina. in those days a pious countess was more miraculous than the dream that foretold about lady huntingdon's coming. surrounded by crowds, she had to send for her chaplain, whitefield, who preached in a field till a chapel was built. at the time when lady huntingdon was exhorting the poor villagers of brighton, two relatives of hers, governor shirley of massachusetts and his aide-de-camp colonel george washington, were preparing the way for the great events in which paine was to bear a part. when paine went on his survey he might have observed the washington motto, possibly a trace of the pious countess, which long remained on a house in brighton: _exitus acta probat_. there was an ancient washington who fought at the battle of lewes; but probably if our exciseman ever thought of any washington at all it was of the anomalous colonel in virginia founding a colonial association to disuse excisable articles imported from england. but if such transatlantic phenomena, or the preaching of whitefield in the neighborhood, concerned paine at all, no trace of their impression is now discoverable. and if there were any protest in him at that time, when the english government had reached its nadir of corruption, it cannot be heard. he appears to have been conventionally patriotic, and was regarded as the lewes laureate. he wrote an election song for the whig candidate at new shoreham, for which the said candidate, (rumbold by name) paid him three guineas; and he wrote a song on the death of general wolfe, which, when published some years later, was set to music, and enjoyed popularity in the anacreontic and other societies. while britannia mourns for her wolfe, the sire of the gods sends his messengers to console "the disconsolate dame," assuring her that her hero is not dead but summoned to lead "the armies above" against the proud giants marching against heaven. the ballad recalls paine the _paien_, but the thetford quaker is not apparent. and, indeed, there are various indications about this time that some reaction had set in after the preaching phase. "such was his enterprise on the water," says oldys, "and his intrepidity on the ice that he became known by the appellation of _commodore_" william carver (ms.) says he was at this time "tall and slim, about five feet eight inches." at lewes, where the traditions concerning paine are strong, i met miss rickman, a descendant of thomas "clio" rickman--the name clio, under which his musical contributions to the revolution were published, having become part of his name. rickman was a youth in the lewes of paine's time, and afterwards his devoted friend. his enthusiasm was represented in children successively named paine, washington, franklin, rousseau, petrarch, volney. rickman gives an account of paine at lewes: "in this place he lived several years in habits of intimacy with a very respectable, sensible, and convivial set of acquaintance, who were entertained with his witty sallies and informed by his more serious conversations. in politics he was at this time a whig, and notorious for that quality which has been defined perseverance in a good cause and obstinacy in a bad one. he was tenacious of his opinions, which were bold, acute, and independent, and which he maintained with ardour, elegance, and argument. at this period, at lewes, the white hart evening club was the resort of a social and intelligent circle who, out of fun, seeing that disputes often ran very warm and high, frequently had what they called the 'headstrong book.' this was no other than an old greek homer which was sent the morning after a debate vehemently maintained, to the most obstinate haranguer in the club: this book had the following title, as implying that mr. paine the best deserved and the most frequently obtained it: 'the headstrong book, or original book of obstinacy.' written by -------- ------ of lewes, in sussex, and revised and corrected by thomas paine. "'immortal paine, while mighty reasoners jar, we crown thee general of the headstrong war; thy logic vanquish'd error, and thy mind no bounds but those of right and truth confined. thy soul of fire must sure ascend the sky, immortal paine, thy fame can never die; for men like thee their names must ever save from the black edicts of the tyrant grave.' "my friend mr. lee, of lewes, in communicating this to me in september, , said: 'this was manufactured nearly forty years ago, as applicable to mr. paine, and i believe you will allow, however indifferent the manner, that i did not very erroneously anticipate his future celebrity.'" it was probably to amuse the club at the white hart, an ancient tavern, that paine wrote his humorous poems. on the march, , paine married elizabeth, daughter of samuel ollive, with whom he had lodged. this respected citizen had died in july, , leaving in lewes a widow and one daughter in poor circumstances. paine then took up his abode elsewhere, but in the following year he joined the ollives in opening a shop, and the tobacco-mill went on as before. his motive was probably compassion, but it brought him into nearer acquaintance with the widow and her daughter. elizabeth is said to have been pretty, and, being of quaker parentage, she was no doubt fairly educated. she was ten years younger than paine, and he was her hero. they were married in st. michael's church, lewes, on the th of march, , by robert austen, curate, the witnesses being henry verrall and thomas ollive, the lady's brother. oldys is constrained to give paine's ability recognition. "he had risen by superior energy, more than by greater honesty, to be a chief among the excisemen." they needed a spokesman at that time, being united in an appeal to parliament to raise their salaries, and a sum of money, raised to prosecute the matter, was confided to paine. in he prepared the document, which was printed, but not published until .* concerning the plea for the excisemen it need only be said that it is as clear and complete as any lawyer could make it. there was, of course, no room for originality in the simple task of showing that the ill-paid service must be badly done, but the style is remarkable for simplicity and force. paine put much time and pains into this composition, and passed the whole winter of - trying to influence members of parliament and others in favor of his cause. "a rebellion of the excisemen," says oldys, "who seldom have the populace on their side, was not much feared by their superiors." paine's pamphlet and two further leaflets of his were printed. the best result of his pamphlet was to secure him an acquaintance with oliver goldsmith, to whom he addressed the following letter: * the document was revived as a pamphlet, though its subject was no longer of interest, at a time when paine's political writings were under prosecution, and to afford a vehicle for an "introduction," which gives a graphic account of paine's services in the united states. on a copy of this london edition ( ) before me, one of a number of paine's early pamphlets bearing marks of his contemporary english editor, is written with pencil: "with a preface (qy. j. barlow)." from this, and some characteristics of the composition, i have no doubt that the vigorous introduction was barlow's. the production is entitled, "the case of the officers of excise; with remarks on the qualifications of officers; and of the numerous evils arising to the revenue, from the insufficiency of the present salary. humbly addressed to the hon. and right hon. members of both houses of parliament." "honored sir,--herewith i present you with the case of the officers of excise. a compliment of this kind from an entire stranger may appear somewhat singular, but the following reasons and information will, i presume, sufficiently apologize. i act myself in the humble station of an officer of excise, though somewhat differently circumstanced to what many of them are, and have been the principal promoter of a plan for applying to parliament this session for an increase of salary. a petition for this purpose has been circulated through every part of the kingdom, and signed by all the officers therein. a subscription of three shillings per officer is raised, amounting to upwards of £ , for supporting the expenses. the excise officers, in all cities and corporate towns, have obtained letters of recommendation from the electors to the members in their behalf, many or most of whom have promised their support. the enclosed case we have presented to most of the members, and shall to all, before the petition appear in the house. the memorial before you met with so much approbation while in manuscript, that i was advised to print copies; of which were subscribed for the officers in general, and the remaining reserved for presents. since the delivering them i have received so many letters of thanks and approbation for the performance, that were i not rather singularly modest, i should insensibly become a little vain. the literary fame of dr. goldsmith has induced me to present one to him, such as it is. it is my first and only attempt, and even now i should not have undertaken it, had i not been particularly applied to by some of my superiors in office. i have some few questions to trouble dr. goldsmith with, and should esteem his company for an hour or two, to partake of a bottle of wine, or any thing else, and apologize for this trouble, as a singular favour conferred on his unknown "humble servant and admirer, "thomas paine. "excise coffee house, "broad street, dec. , . "p. s. shall take the liberty of waiting on you in a day or two."' * goldsmith responded to paine's desire for his acquaintance. i think paine may be identified as the friend to whom goldsmith, shortly before his death, gave the epitaph first printed in paine's pennsylvania magaritu, january, , beginning, "here whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can, though he merrily lived he is now a grave man." in giving it goldsmith said, "it will be of no use to me where i am going." i am indebted for these records to the secretary of inland revenue, england, and to my friend, charles macrae, who obtained them for me. to one who reads paine's argument, it appears wonderful that a man of such ability should, at the age of thirty-five, have had his horizon filled with such a cause as that of the underpaid excisemen, unable to get the matter before parliament, he went back to his tobacco-mill in lewes, and it seemed to him like the crack of doom when, april, , he was dismissed from the excise. the cause of paine's second dismission from the excise being ascribed by his first biographer (oldys) to his dealing in smuggled tobacco, without contradiction by paine, his admirers have been misled into a kind of apology for him on account of the prevalence of the custom. but i have before me the minutes of the board concerning paine, and there is no hint whatever of any such accusation. the order of discharge from lewes is as follows: "friday th april . thomas pain, officer of lewes th o. ride sussex collection having quitted his business, without obtaining the board's leave for so doing, and being gone off on account of the debts which he hath contracted, as by letter of the th instant from edward clifford, supervisor, and the said pain having been once before discharged, ordered that he be again discharged." in paine's absence in london, writing his pleas for the excisemen, laboring with members of parliament, his tobacco-mill had been still, his groceries unsold, and his wife and her mother had been supported from the bank of flattering hope. no sooner was it known that the hope of an increased salary for the exciseman had failed than he found himself in danger of arrest for debt. it was on this account that he left lewes for a time, but it was only that he might take steps to make over all of his possessions to his creditors. this was done. the following placard appeared: "to be sold by auction, on thursday the th of april, and following day, all the household furniture, stock in trade and other effects of thomas pain, grocer and tobacconist, near the west gate, in lewes: also a horse tobacco and snuff mill, with all the utensils for cutting tobacco and grinding off snuff; and two unopened crates of cream-coloured stone ware." this sale was announced by one whitfield, grocer, and if there were other creditors they were no doubt paid by the results, for paine had no difficulty in returning to lewes. he once more had to petition the board, which shortly before had commended his assiduity. its commissioner, george lewis scott, labored in his behalf. in vain. whether it was because it was a rule that a second discharge should be final, or that his failure to move parliament had made him a scapegoat for the disappointed excisemen, his petition was rejected. at thirty-seven paine found himself penniless. chapter iii. domestic trouble the break-up of paine's business at lewes brought to a head a more serious trouble. on june th of the same miserable year, , paine and his wife formally separated. the causes of their trouble are enveloped in mystery. it has been stated by both friendly and hostile biographers that there was from the first no cohabitation, and that concerning the responsibility for this neither of them was ever induced to utter a word. even his friend rickman was warned off the subject by paine, who, in reply to a question as to the reason of the separation, said: "it is nobody's business but my own; i had cause for it, but i will name it to no one." william huntington, in his "kingdom of heaven," mentions a usage of some quakers in his time, "that when a young couple are espoused, they are to be kept apart for a season to mourn"; this being their interpretation of zech. xii., - . as huntington was mainly acquainted with this sussex region, it is not inconceivable that elizabeth ollive held some such notion, and that this led to dissension ending in separation. nor is it inconceivable that paine himself, finding his excise office no support, and his shop a failure, resolved that no offspring should suffer his penury or increase it. it is all mere guesswork. mr. alfred hammond, of lewes, who owns the property, showed me the documents connected with it. after the death of samuel ollive in , esther, his widow, enjoyed the messuage until her own death, in , when a division among the heirs became necessary. among the documents is one which recites some particulars of the separation between paine and his wife. "soon after the testator's death, his daughter elizabeth married thos. pain from whom she afterwards lived separate under articles dated th june , and made between the said thos. pain of the first part, the said elizabeth of the nd part, and the rev. james castley, clerk, of the d part. by which articles, after reciting (inter alia) that dissentions had arisen between the said thos. pain and elizabeth his wife, and that they had agreed to live separate. and also reciting the will of the said saml. ollive and that the said thomas pain had agreed that the said elizabeth should have and take her share of the said monies of the said house when the same should become due and payable and that he would give any discharge that should then be required to and for the use of the said elizabeth: the said thos. pain did covenant to permit the said elizabeth to live separate from him and to carry on such trade and business as she should think fit, notwithstanding her coverture and as if she were a feme. sole. and that he would not at any time thereafter claim or demand the said monies which she should be entitled to at the time of the sale of the said house in lewes aforesaid, or any of the monies rings plate cloathes linen woollen household goods or stock in trade which the said elizabeth should or might at any time thereafter buy or purchase or which should be devised or given to her or she should otherwise acquire and that she should and might enjoy and absolutely dispose of the same as if she were a feme. sole and unmarried. and also that it should and might be lawful for the said elizabeth to have receive and take to her own separate use and benefit her said share of the monies for which the said messuage or tenement in lewes should be sold when the same should become due and payable." another paper is a release to francis mitchener, october , , in which it is recited: "that the said elizabeth pain had ever since lived separate from him the said thos. pain, and never had any issue, and the said thomas pain had many years quitted this kingdom and resided (if living) in parts beyond the seas, but had not since been heard of by the said elizabeth pain, nor was it known for certain whether he was living or dead." this release is signed by robert blackman and wife, and eight others, among these being the three children of samuel ollive, who under his will were to "share alike "--samuel, thomas, and elizabeth (mrs. paine). the large seals attached to the signatures were fortunately well preserved, for each represents the head of thomas paine. by the assistance of mr. hammond i am able to present this little likeness of paine that must have been made when he was about thirty-five, or nearly twenty years earlier than any other portrait of him. the reader must form his own conjecture as to the origin of this seal, its preservation by the wife, and use on this document at this time, and probably since her separation, elizabeth paine would appear to have resided with her brother thomas, a watchmaker in cranbrook, kent. that she and the family did not know paine's whereabouts in , or whether he were dead or alive, argues that they had not followed his career or the course of public events with much interest. one would be glad to believe that elizabeth cherished kindly remembrance of the man who considering his forlorn condition, had certainly shown generosity in the justice with which he renounced all of his rights in the property she had brought him, and whose hand she might naturally have suspected behind the monies anonymously sent her. we will therefore hope that it was from some other member of the family that oldys obtained,--unless, like his "a. m. of the university of philadelphia," it was invented,--the letter said to have been written by paine's mother to his wife.* * "thetpord, norfolk, th july, . dear daughter,--i must beg leave to trouble you with my inquiries concerning my unhappy son and your husband: various are the reports, which i find come originally from the excise-office. such as his vile treatment to you, his secreting upwards of £. intrusted with him to manage the petition for advance of salary; and that since his discharge, he have petitioned to be restored, which was rejected with scorn. since which i am told he have left england. to all which i beg you'll be kind enough to answer me by due course of post.--you 'll not be a little surprized at my so strongly desiring to know what's become of him after i repeat to you his undutiful behavior to the tenderest of parents; he never asked of us anything, but what was granted, that were in our poor abilities to do; nay, even distressed ourselves, whose works are given over by old age, to let him have £. on bond, and every other tender mark a parent could possibly shew a child; his ingratitude, or rather want of duty, has been such, that he have not wrote to me upwards of two years.--if the above account be true, i am heartily sorry, that a woman whose character and amiableness deserves the greatest respect, love, and esteem, as i have always on enquiry been informed yours did, should be tied for life to the worst of husbands. i am, dear daughter, your affectionate mother, "f. pain. "p. s. for god's sake, let me have your answer, as i am almost distracted." the letter may have been manipulated, but it is not improbable that rumors, "exaggerated by enmity or misstated by malice," as oldys confesses, elicited some such outburst from thetford.* the excisemen, angry at the failure to get their case before parliament, and having fixed on paine as their scapegoat, all other iniquities were naturally laid on him. eighteen years later, when the scapegoat who had gone into the american wilderness returned with the renown of having helped to make it a nation, he addressed a letter to lewes, which was about to hold a meeting to respond to a royal proclamation for suppressing seditious writings. his tone is not that of a man who supposed that lewes had aught against him on the score of his wife. "it is now upwards of eighteen years since i was a resident inhabitant of the town of lewes. my situation among you as an officer of the revenue, for more than six years, enabled me to see into the numerous and various distresses which the weight of taxes even at that time of day occasioned; and feeling, as i then did, and as it is natural for me to do, for the hard condition of others, it is with pleasure i can declare, and every person then under my survey, and now living, can witness the exceeding candor, and even tenderness, with which that part of the duty that fell to my share was executed. the name of thomas paine is not to be found in the records of the lewes justices, in any one act of contention with, or severity of any kind whatever towards, the persons whom he surveyed, either in the town or in the country; of this mr. fuller and mr. shelley, who will probably attend the meeting, can, if they please, give full testimony. it is, however, not in their power to contradict it. having thus indulged myself in recollecting a place where i formerly had, and even now have, many friends, rich and poor, and most probably some enemies. * when paine had the money he did forward twenty pounds to his parents, and made provision for his mother when she was a widow. as to writing to her, in those unhappy years, he probably thought it better to keep his burdens to himself. he may also have been aware of his mother's severity without knowing her interest in him. i proceed to the import of my letter. since my departure from lewes, fortune or providence has thrown me into a line of action which my first setting out in life could not possibly have suggested to me. many of you will recollect that, whilst i resided among you, there was not a man more firm and open in supporting the principles of liberty than myself, and i still pursue, and ever will, the same path." finally, it should be added that rickman, a truthful man, who admits paine's faults, says: "this i can assert, that mr. paine always spoke tenderly and respectfully of his wife; and sent her several times pecuniary aid, without her knowing even whence it came." while paine was in london, trying to get before parliament a measure for the relief of excisemen, he not only enjoyed the friendship of goldsmith, but that of franklin. in the doctor's electrical experiments he took a deep interest; for paine was devoted to science, and the extent of his studies is attested by his description of a new electrical machine and other scientific papers, signed "atlanticus," in the _pennsylvania magazine_, the sale of his effects in lewes paid his debts, but left him almost penniless. he came to london, and how he lived is unknown--that is, physically, for we do find some intimation of his mental condition. in a letter written many years after to john king, a political renegade, paine says: "when i first knew you in ailiffe-street, an obscure part of the city, a child, without fortune or friends, i noticed you; because i thought i saw in you, young as you was, a bluntness of temper, a boldness of opinion, and an originality of thought, that portended some future good. i was pleased to discuss, with you, under our friend _oliver's_ lime-tree, those political notions, which i have since given the world in my 'rights of man.' you used to complain of abuses, as well as me, and write your opinions on them in free terms--what then means this sudden attachment to _kings_?" this "oliver" was probably the famous alderman oliver who was imprisoned in the tower during the great struggle of the city with the government, on account of wilkes. paine tells us that in early life he cared little for politics, which seemed to him a species of "jockeyship"; and how apt the term is shown by the betting-book kept at brooks' club, in which are recorded the bets of the noblemen and politicians of the time on the outcome of every motion and course of every public man or minister. but the contemptuous word proves that paine was deeply interested in the issues which the people had joined with the king and his servile ministers. he could never have failed to read with excitement the letters of junius, whose "brilliant pen," he afterwards wrote, "enraptured without convincing; and though in the plenitude of its rage it might be said to give elegance to bitterness, yet the policy survived the blast." we may feel sure that he had heard with joy that adroit verdict of the jury at the king's bench on woodfall, junius' printer, which secured liberty of the press until, twenty-two years later, it was reversed by revolutionary panic, in the same court, for paine himself. notwithstanding the private immorality of wilkes, in which his associates were aristocratic, the most honorable political elements in england, and the independents and presbyterians, were resolute in defending the rights of his constituents against the authority arrogated by the commons to exclude him. burke then stood by wilkes, as john bright stood by bradlaugh at a later day. and while paine was laboring to carry his excise bill through parliament he had good opportunity to discover how completely that body's real opinions were overruled by royal dictation. it was at that time that george iii., indifferent to his brother's profligacies, would not forgive his marriage with a commoner's sister, and forced on parliament a marriage act which made all marriages in the royal family illegitimate without his consent. the indignant resignation of fox modified the measure slightly, limiting the king's interference at the twenty-sixth year of the marrying parties, and then giving the veto to parliament. for this the king turned his wrath on fox. this was but one of the many instances of those years--all told in trevelyan's admirable work*--which added to paine's studies of the wilkes conflicts a lasting lesson in the conservation of despotic forces. the barbaric eras of prerogative had returned under the forms of ministerial government. the ministry, controlled by the court, ruled by corruption of commoners. * "the early history of charles james fox," . it was a _régime_ almost incredible to us now, when england is of all nations most free from corruption and court influence in politics; and it was little realized in english colonies before the revolution. but franklin was in london to witness it, and paine was there to grow familiar with the facts. to both of them the systematic inhumanity and injustice were brought home personally. the discharged and insulted postmaster could sympathize with the dismissed and starving exciseman. franklin recognized paine's ability, and believed he would be useful and successful in america. so on this migration paine decided, and possibly the determination brought his domestic discords to a crisis. { } chapter iv. the new world paine left england in october and arrived in america november , . he bore a letter of introduction from dr. franklin to richard bache, his son-in-law, dated september , : "the bearer mr. thomas paine is very well recommended to me as an ingenious worthy young man. he goes to pennsylvania with a view of settling there. i request you to give him your best advice and countenance, as he is quite a stranger there. if you can put him in a way of obtaining employment as a clerk, or assistant tutor in a school, or assistant surveyor, of all of which i think him very capable, so that he may procure a subsistence at least, till he can make acquaintance and obtain a knowledge of the country, you will do well, and much oblige your affectionate father." { } on march , , paine writes franklin from philadelphia: "your countenancing me has obtained for me many friends and much reputation, for which please accept my sincere thanks. i have been applied to by several gentlemen to instruct their sons on very advantageous terms to myself, and a printer and bookseller here, a man of reputation and property, robert aitkin, has lately attempted a magazine, but having little or no turn that way himself, he has applied to me for assistance. he had not above six hundred subscribers when i first assisted him. we have now upwards of fifteen hundred, and daily increasing. i have not entered into terms with him this is only the second number. the first i was not concerned in." it has been often stated that paine was befriended by dr. rush, but there is no indication of this. their acquaintance was casual. "about the year [says dr. rush--the date is an error for ] i met him accidentally in mr. aitkin's bookstore, and was introduced to him by mr. aitkin. we conversed a few minutes, and i left him. soon afterwards i read a short essay with which i was much pleased, in one of bradford's papers, against the slavery of the africans in our country, and which i was informed was written by mr. paine. this excited my desire to be better acquainted with him. we met soon afterwards in mr. aitkin's bookstore, where i did homage to his principles and pen upon the subject of the enslaved africans. he told me the essay to which i alluded was the first thing he had ever published in his life. after this mr. aitkin employed him as the editor of his magazine, with a salary of fifty pounds currency a year. this work was well supported by him. his song upon the death of gen. wolfe, and his reflections upon the death of lord clive, gave it a sudden currency which few works of the kind have since had in our country." as the anti-slavery essay was printed march , , it appears that paine had been in america more than three months before rush noticed him. the first number of the _pennsylvania magazine_, or _american museum_, appeared at the end of january, . though "not concerned" in it pecuniarily, not yet being editor, his contributions increased the subscription list, and he was at once engaged. for eighteen months paine edited this magazine, and probably there never was an equal amount of good literary work done on a salary of fifty pounds a year. it was a handsome magazine, with neat vignette--book, plough, anchor, and olive-twined shield,--the motto, _juvat in sylvis kabitare_. the future author of the "rights of man" and "age of reason" admonishes correspondents that religion and politics are forbidden topics! the first number contains a portrait of goldsmith and the picture of a new electrical machine. a prefatory note remarks that "the present perplexities of affairs" have "encompassed with difficulties the first number of the magazine, which, like the early snowdrop, comes forth in a barren season, and contents itself with modestly foretelling that choicer flowers are preparing to appear." the opening essay shows a fine literary touch, and occasionally a strangely modern vein of thought. "our fancies would be highly diverted could we look back and behold a circle of original indians haranguing on the sublime perfections of the age; yet 't is not impossible but future times may exceed us as much as we have exceeded them." here is a forerunner of macaulay's new zea-lander sketching the ruins of st. paul's. it is followed by a prediction that the coming american magazine will surpass the english, "because we are not exceeded in abilities, have a more extended field for inquiry, and whatever may be our political state, our happiness will always depend upon ourselves." a feature of the magazine was the description, with plates, of recent english inventions not known in the new world--threshing-machine, spinning-machine, etc.,--such papers being by paine. these attracted the members of the philosophical society, founded by franklin, and paine was welcomed into their circle by rittenhouse, clymer, rush, muhlenberg, and other representatives of the scientific and literary metropolis. many a piece composed for the headstrong club at lewes first saw the light in this magazine,--such as the humorous poems, "the monk and the jew," "the farmer and short's dog, porter"; also the famous ballad "on the death of general wolfe." printed march, , with music. lewes had not, indeed, lost sight of him, as is shown by a communication in april from dr. matthew wilson, dated from that town, relating to a new kind of fever raging in england. the reader who has studied paine's avowed and well-known works finds no difficulty in tracking him beneath the various signatures by which he avoided an appearance of writing most of the articles in the _pennsylvania magazine_, though he really did. he is now "atlanticus," now "vox populi," or "Æsop," and oftener affixes no signature. the thetford quaker is still here in "reflections on the death of lord clive" (reprinted as a pamphlet in england), "a new anecdote of alexander the great," and "cursory reflections on the single combat or modern duel." the duel was hardly yet challenged in america when paine wrote (may, ) "from the peculiar prevalence of this custom in countries where the religious system is established which, of all others, most expressly prohibits the gratification of revenge, with every species of outrage and violence, we too plainly see how little mankind are in reality influenced by the precepts of the religion by which they profess to be guided, and in defence of which they will occasionally risk even their lives." but with this voice from thetford meeting-house mingles the testimony of "common sense." in july, , he writes: "i am thus far a quaker, that i would gladly agree with all the world to lay aside the use of arms, and settle matters by negotiations; but, unless the whole world wills, the matter ends, and i take up my musket, and thank heaven he has put it in my power.... we live not in a world of angels. the reign of satan is not ended, neither can we expect to be defended by miracles." titles he sees through (may, ): "the honourable plunderer of his country, or the right honourable murderer of mankind, create such a contrast of ideas as exhibit a monster rather than a man. the lustre of the star, and the title of my lord, overawe the superstitious vulgar, and forbid them to enquire into the character of the possessor: nay more, they are, as it were, bewitched to admire in the great the vices they would honestly condemn in themselves.... the reasonable freeman sees through the magic of a title, and examines the man before he approves him. to him the honours of the worthless seem to write their masters' vices in capitals, and their stars shine to no other end than to read them by. modesty forbids men separately, or collectively, to assume titles. but as all honours, even that of kings, originated from the public, the public may justly be called the true fountain of honour. and it is with much pleasure i have heard the title 'honourable' applied to a body of men, who nobly disregarding private ease and interest for public welfare, have justly merited the address of _the honourable continental congress_." he publishes (may, ), and i think wrote, a poetical protest against cruelty to animals, to whose rights christendom was then not awakened. his pen is unmistakable in "reflections on unhappy marriages" (june, ): "as extasy abates coolness succeeds, which often makes way for indifference, and that for neglect. sure of each other by the nuptial bond, they no longer take any pains to be mutually agreeable. careless if they displease, and yet angry if reproached; with so little relish for each other's company that anybody else's is more welcome, and more entertaining." it is a more pointed statement of the problem already suggested, in the april magazine, by his well-known fable "cupid and hymen," whose controversies are now settled in the divorce court. in his august ( ) number is found the earliest american plea for woman. it is entitled "an occasional letter on the female sex," and unsigned, but certainly by paine. his trick of introducing a supposititious address from another person, as in the following extract, appears in many examples. "affronted in one country by polygamy, which gives them their rivals for inseparable companions; inslaved in another by indissoluble ties, which often join the gentle to the rude, and sensibility to brutality: even in countries where they may be esteemed most happy, constrained in their desires in the disposal of their goods, robbed of freedom of will by the laws, the slaves of opinion, which rules them with absolute sway, and construes the slightest appearances into guilt, surrounded on all sides by judges who are at once their tyrants and seducers, and who after having prepared their faults, punish every lapse with dishonour--nay usurp the right of degrading them on suspicion!--who does not feel for the tender sex? yet such i am sorry to say is the lot of woman over the whole earth. man with regard to them, in all climates and in all ages, has been either an insensible husband or an oppressor; but they have sometimes experienced the cold and deliberate oppression of pride, and sometimes the violent and terrible tyranny of jealousy. when they are not beloved they are nothing; and when they are they are tormented. they have almost equal cause to be afraid of indifference and love. over three quarters of the globe nature has placed them between contempt and misery." "even among people where beauty receives the highest homage we find men who would deprive the sex of every kind of reputation. 'the most virtuous woman,' says a celebrated greek, 'is she who is least talked of.' that morose man, while he imposes duties on women, would deprive them of the sweets of public esteem, and in exacting virtues from them would make it a crime to aspire to honour. if a woman were to defend the cause of her sex she might address him in the following manner: "'how great is your injustice! if we have an equal right with you to virtue, why should we not have an equal right to praise? the public esteem ought to wait upon merit. our duties are different from yours, but they are not less difficult to fulfil, or of less consequence to society: they are the foundations of your felicity, and the sweetness of life. we are wives and mothers. 't is we who form the union and the cordiality of families; 't is we who soften that savage rudeness which considers everything as due to force, and which would involve man with man in eternal war. we cultivate in you that humanity which makes you feel for the misfortunes of others, and our tears forewarn you of your own danger. nay, you cannot be ignorant that we have need of courage not less than you: more feeble in ourselves, we have perhaps more trials to encounter. nature assails us with sorrow, law and custom press us with constraint, and sensibility and virtue alarm us by their continual conflict. sometimes also the name of citizen demands from us the tribute of fortitude. when you offer your blood to the state, think that it is ours. in giving it our sons and our husbands we give it more than ourselves. you can only die on the field of battle, but we have the misfortune to survive those whom we love the most. alas! while your ambitious vanity is unceasingly laboring to cover the earth with statues, with monuments, and with inscriptions to eternize, if possible, your names, and give yourselves an existence when this body is no more, why must we be condemned to live and to die unknown? would that the grave and eternal forgetfulness should be our lot. be not our tyrants in all: permit our names to be sometime pronounced beyond the narrow circle in which we live: permit friendship, or at least love, to inscribe its emblems on the tomb where our ashes repose; and deny us not the public esteem which, after the esteem of one's self, is the sweetest reward of welldoing.'" thus the pennsylvania magazine, in the time that paine edited it, was a seed-bag from which this sower scattered the seeds of great reforms ripening with the progress of civilization. through the more popular press he sowed also. events selected his seeds of american independence, of republican equality, freedom from royal, ecclesiastical, and hereditary privilege, for a swifter and more imposing harvest; but the whole circle of human ideas and principles was recognized by this lone wayfaring man. the first to urge extension of the principles of independence to the enslaved negro; the first to arraign monarchy, and to point out the danger of its survival in presidency; the first to propose articles of a more thorough nationality to the new-born states; the first to advocate international arbitration; the first to expose the absurdity and criminality of duelling; the first to suggest more rational ideas of marriage and divorce; the first to advocate national and international copyright; the first to plead for the animals; the first to demand justice for woman: what brilliants would our modern reformers have contributed to a coronet for that man's brow, had he not presently worshipped the god of his fathers after the way that theologians called heresy! "be not righteous overmuch," saith cynical solomon; "neither make thyself over-wise: why shouldest thou destroy thyself?" chapter v. liberty and equality with regard to paine's earliest publication there has been needless confusion. in his third _crisis_ he says to lord howe: "i have likewise an aversion to monarchy, as being too debasing to the dignity of man; but i never troubled others with my notions till very lately, nor ever published a syllable in england in my life." it has been alleged that this is inconsistent with his having written in "the case of the officers of excise." but this, though printed (by william lee of lewes) was not published until . it was a document submitted to parliament, but never sold. the song on wolfe, and other poetical pieces, though known to the headstrong club in lewes, were first printed in philadelphia.* * mr. w. h. burr maintains that paine wrote in the english crisis ( ) under the name of "casca." as casca's articles bear intrinsic evidence of being written in london--such as his treating as facts general gage's fictions about lexington--the theory supposes paine to have visited england in that year. but besides the facts that rush had an interview with paine near the middle of march, and franklin in october, the accounts of aitkin, preserved in philadelphia, show payments to paine in may, july, and august, . as mr. burr's further theory, that paine wrote the letters of junius, rests largely on the identification with "casca," it might be left to fall with disproof of the latter. it is but fair, however, to the labors of a courageous writer, and to the many worthy people who have adopted his views, to point out the impossibilities of their case. an able summary of the facts discoverable concerning the personality of junius, in macaulay's "warren hastings," says: "as to the position, pursuits, and connexions of junius, the following are the most important facts which can be considered as clearly proved: first, that he was acquainted with the technical forms of the secretary of state's office; secondly, that he was intimately acquainted with the business of the war office; thirdly, that he, during the year , attended debates in the house of lords, and took notes of speeches, particularly of the speeches of lord chatham; fourthly, that he bitterly resented the appointment of mr. chamier to the place of deputy secretary of war; fifthly, that he was bound by some strong tie to the first lord holland." now during the period of junius' letters (jan. , , to jan. , ) paine was occupied with his laborious duties as exciseman at lewes, and with the tobacco mill from which he vainly tried to extort a living for himself and wife, and her mother. before that period there was no time at which paine could have commanded the leisure or opportunities necessary to master the political and official details known to junius, even had he been interested in them. he declares that he had no interest in politics, which he regarded as a species of "jockeyship." how any one can read a page of junius and then one of paine, and suppose them from the same pen appears to me inconceivable. junius is wrapped up in the affairs of lord this and duke that, and a hundred details. i can as easily imagine paine agitated with the movements of a battle of chessmen. but apart from this, the reader need only refer to the facts of his life before coming to america to acquit him of untruth in saying that he had published nothing in england, and that the cause of america made him an author. in america wolfe again rises before paine's imagination. in the _pennsylvania journal_, january th, appears a brief "dialogue between general wolfe and general gage in a wood near boston." wolfe, from the elysian fields, approaches gage with rebuke for the errand on which he has come to america, and reminds him that he is a citizen as well as a soldier. "if you have any regard for the glory of the british name, and if you prefer the society of grecian, roman, and british heroes in the world of spirits to the company of jeffries, kirk, and other royal executioners, i conjure you immediately to resign your commission." although this "dialogue" was the first writing of paine published, it was not the first written for publication. the cause that first moved his heart and pen was that of the negro slave. dr. rush's date of his meeting with paine, ,--a year before his arrival,--is one of a number of errors in his letter, among these being his report that paine told him the antislavery essay was the first thing he had ever published. paine no doubt told him it was the first thing he ever wrote and offered for publication; but it was not published until march th. misled by rush's words, paine's editors and our historians of the antislavery movement have failed to discover this early manifesto of abolitionism. it is a most remarkable article. every argument and appeal, moral, religious, military, economic, familiar in our subsequent anti-slavery struggle, is here found stated with eloquence and clearness. having pointed out the horrors of the slave trade and of slavery, he combats the argument that the practice was permitted to the jews. were such a plea allowed it would justify adoption of other jewish practices utterly unlawful "under clearer light." the jews indeed had no permission to enslave those who never injured them, but all such arguments are unsuitable "since the time of reformation came under gospel light. all distinctions of nations, and privileges of one above others, are ceased. christians are taught to account all men their neighbours; and love their neighbours as themselves; and do to all men as they would be done by; to do good to all men; and man-stealing is ranked with enormous crimes." bradford might naturally hesitate some weeks before printing these pointed reproofs. "how just, how suitable to our crime is the punishment with which providence threatens us? we have enslaved multitudes, and shed much innocent blood, and now are threatened with the same." in the conclusion, a practical scheme is proposed for liberating all except the infirm who need protection, and settling them on frontier lands, where they would be friendly protectors instead of internal foes ready to help any invader who may offer them freedom. this wonderful article is signed "justice and humanity." thomas paine's venture in this direction was naturally welcomed by dr. rush, who some years before had written a little pamphlet against the slave trade, and deploring slavery, though he had not proposed or devised any plan for immediate emancipation. paine's paper is as thorough as garrison himself could have made it. and, indeed, it is remarkable that garrison, at a time when he shared the common prejudices against paine, printed at the head of his _liberator_ a motto closely resembling paine's. the motto of paine was: "the world is my country, my religion is to do good"; that of the _liberator_: "our country is the world, our countrymen are all mankind." garrison did characteristic justice to paine when he had outgrown early prejudices against him.* on april th, thirty-five days after paine's plea for emancipation, the first american antislavery society was formed, in philadelphia. * it will be seen by the "life of william lloyd garrison," i., p. , and iii., p. , that mr. garrison did not know of paine's motto ("rights of man," i., chap. v.). his review of paine's works appeared november, . the liberator first appeared january , . although the dialogue between wolfe and gage (january th) shows that paine shared the feeling of america, the earlier numbers of his _pennsylvania magazine_ prove his strong hope for reconciliation. that hope died in the first collision; after lexington he knew well that separation was inevitable. a single sentence in the magazine intimates the change. the april number, which appeared soon after the "lexington massacre," contains a summary of chatham's speech, in which he said the crown would lose its lustre if "robbed of so principal a jewel as america." paine adds this footnote: "the principal jewel of the crown actually dropt out at the coronation." there was probably no earlier printed suggestion of independence by any american.* * the london chronicle, of october , , printed major cartwright's "american independence the interest and glory of great britain," and it was reprinted in the pennsylvania journal. although it has little relation to the form in which the question presently suggested itself, the article is interesting as an indication that separation was then more talked of in england than in america. twelve years before the revolution a pamphlet in favor of separation was written by josiah tucker of bristol, england. then as now colonists were more loyal than the english at home. there are three stages in the evolution of the declaration of independence. the colonies reached first the resolution of resistance, secondly of separation, and thirdly of republicanism. in the matter of resistance the distribution of honors has been rather literary than historical. in considering the beginnings of the revolution our minds fly at once to the tea-party in boston harbor, then to lexington, where seven massachusetts men fell dead, and seven years of war followed. but two years before the tea was thrown overboard, and four years before the lexington massacre, north carolinians had encountered british troops, had left two hundred patriots fallen, and seen their leaders hanged for treason. those earliest martyrs are almost forgotten because, in the first place, north carolina produced no historians, poets, magazines, to rehearse their story from generation to generation. in the second place, the rebellion which governor tryon crushed at alamance, though against the same oppressions, occurred in , before the colonies had made common cause. governmental anachronisms have a tendency to take refuge in colonies. had great britain conceded to americans the constitutional rights of englishmen there could have been no revolution. before the time of george iii. british governors had repeatedly revived in america prerogatives extinct in england, but the colonists had generally been successful in their appeals to the home government. even in the old statesmen in america had not realized that a king had come who meant to begin in america his mad scheme of governing as well as reigning. when, in september, , the first continental congress assembled, its members generally expected to settle the troubles with the "mother country" by petitions to parliament. there is poetic irony in the fact that the first armed resistance to royal authority in america was by the north carolina "regulators." on the frontiers, before official courts were established, some kind of law and order had to be maintained, and they were protected by a volunteer police called "regulators." in the forests of virginia, two hundred years ago, peter lynch was appointed judge by his neighbors because of his wisdom and justice, and his decisions were enforced by "regulators." judge lynch's honorable name is now degraded into a precedent for the cowardly ruffians who hunt down unarmed negroes, italians, and chinamen, and murder them without trial, or after their acquittal. but such was not the case with our frontier courts and "regulators," which were civilized organizations, though unauthorized. for several years before the revolution lawful and civilized government in some of the colonies depended on unauthorized administrations. the authorized powers were the "lynchers," as they would now be called, with traditional misrepresentation of peter lynch. the north carolina regulators of were defending the english constitution against a king and a governor acting as lawlessly as our vile lynchers and "white caps." it was remarked, by paine among others that after the royal authority was abolished, though for a long time new governments were not established, "order and harmony were preserved as inviolate as in any country in europe."* * "the rights of man," part ii., chapter i. in the dialogue between wolfe and gage, paine writes as an englishman; he lays no hand on the constitution, nor considers the sovereign involved in ministerial iniquities. apart from his quaker sentiments he felt dismay at a conflict which interrupted his lucrative school, and the literary opportunities afforded by his magazine. "for my own part," he wrote to franklin, "i thought it very hard to have the country set on fire about my ears almost the moment i got into it." and indeed there was a general disgust among the patriots during the year , while as yet no great aim or idea illumined the smoke of battle. they were vehemently protesting that they had no wish for separation from england, just as in the beginning of our civil war leading unionists declared that they would not interfere with slavery. in march, , franklin maintained the assurance he had given lord chatham in the previous year, that he had never heard in america an expression in favor of independence, "from any person drunk or sober." paine says that on his arrival he found an obstinate attachment to britain; "it was at that time a kind of treason to speak against it." "independence was a doctrine scarce and rare even towards the conclusion of the year ." in may, george washington, on his way to congress, met the rev. jonathan boucher, in the middle of the potomac; while their boats paused, the clergyman warned his friend that the path on which he was entering might lead to separation from england. "if you ever hear of my joining in any such measures," said washington, "you have my leave to set me down for everything wicked."* although paine, as we shall see, had no reverence for the crown, and already foresaw american independence, he abhorred the method of war. in the first number of his magazine he writes: "the speeches of the different governors pathetically lament the present distracted state of affairs. yet they breathe a spirit of mildness as well as tenderness, and give encouragement to hope that some happy method of accommodation may yet arise." * notes and queries (eng.), series and . see also in lippincotts maga-rine, may, , my paper embodying the correspondence of washington and boucher. but on april th came the "massacre at lexington," as it was commonly called. how great a matter is kindled by a small fire! a man whose name remains unknown, forgetful of captain parker's order to his minute-men not to fire until fired on, drew his trigger on the english force advancing to concord; the gun missed fire, but the little flash was answered by a volley; seven men lay dead. in the blood of those patriots at lexington the declaration of independence was really written. from town-meetings throughout the country burning resolutions were hurled on general gage in boston, who had warned major pitcairn, commander of the expedition, not to assume the offensive. from one county, mecklenburg, north carolina, were sent to congress twenty resolutions passed by its committee, may st, declaring "all laws and commissions confirmed by or derived from the authority of the king and parliament are anulled and vacated," and that, "whatever person shall hereafter receive a commission from the crown, or attempt to exercise any such commission heretofore received, shall be deemed an enemy to his country."* * these resolutions further organized a provisional government to be in force until "the legislative body of great britain resign its unjust and arbitrary pretensions with respect to america." in a number of witnesses stated that so early as may th mecklenburg passed an absolute declaration of independence, and it is possible that, on receipt of the tidings from lexington, some popular meeting at charlottetown gave vent to its indignation in expressions, or even resolutions, which were tempered by the county committee eleven days later. the resolutions embodying the supposititious "declaration," written out ( ) from memory by the alleged secretary of the meeting (dr. joseph mcknitt alexander), are believed by dr. welling to be "an honest effort to reproduce, according to the best of his recollection, the facts and declarations contained in the genuine manuscripts of may , after that manifesto had been forgotten."--(north american review, april, .) but the testimony is very strong in favor of two sets of resolutions. many years after the independence of america had been achieved, william cobbett, on his return to england after a long sojourn in the united states, wrote as follows: "as my lord grenville introduced the name of burke, suffer me, my lord, to introduce that of a man who put this burke to shame, who drove him off the public stage to seek shelter in the pension list, and who is now named fifty million times where the name of the pensioned burke is mentioned once. the cause of the american colonies was the cause of the english constitution, which says that no man shall be taxed without his own consent.... a little thing sometimes produces a great effect; an insult offered to a man of great talent and unconquerable perseverance has in many instances produced, in the long run, most tremendous effects; and it appears to me very clear that some beastly insults, offered to mr. paine while he was in the excise in england, was the real cause of the revolution in america; for, though the nature of the cause of america was such as i have before described it; though the principles were firm in the minds of the people of that country; still, it was mr. paine, and mr. paine alone, who brought those principles into action." in this passage cobbett was more epigrammatic than exact. paine, though not fairly treated, as we have seen, in his final dismissal from the excise, was not insulted. but there is more truth in what cobbett suggests as to paine's part than he fully realized. paine's unique service in the work of independence may now be more clearly defined. it was that he raised the revolution into an evolution. after the "lexington massacre" separation was talked of by many, but had it then occurred america might have been another kingdom. the members of congress were of the rich conservative "gentry," and royalists. had he not been a patriot, peyton randolph, our first president, would probably have borne a title like his father, and washington would certainly have been knighted. paine was in the position of the abolitionists when the secession war began. they also held peace principles, and would have scorned a war for the old slave-holding union, as paine would have scorned a separation from england preserving its political institutions. the war having begun, and separation become probable, paine hastened to connect it with humanity and with republicanism. as the abolitionists resolved that the secession war should sweep slavery out of the country, paine made a brave effort that the revolution should clear away both slavery and monarchy. it was to be in every respect a new departure for humanity. so he anticipated the declaration of independence by more than eight months with one of his own, which was discovered by moreau in the file of the _pennsylvania journal_, october th.* * mr. moreau mentions it as paine's in his ms. notes in a copy of cheetham's book, now owned by the pennsylvania historical society. no one familiar with paine's style at the time can doubt its authorship. "a serious thought. "when i reflect on the horrid cruelties exercised by britain in the east indies--how thousands perished by artificial famine--how religion and every manly principle of honor and honesty were sacrificed to luxury and pride--when i read of the wretched natives being blown away, for no other crime than because, sickened with the miserable scene, they refused to fight--when i reflect on these and a thousand instances of similar barbarity, i firmly believe that the almighty, in compassion to mankind, will curtail the power of britain. "and when i reflect on the use she hath made of the discovery of this new world--that the little paltry dignity of earthly kings hath been set up in preference to the great cause of the king of kings--that instead of christian examples to the indians, she hath basely tampered with their passions, imposed on their ignorance, and made them the tools of treachery and murder--and when to these and many other melancholy reflections i add this sad remark, that ever since the discovery of america she hath employed herself in the most horrid of all traffics, that of human flesh, unknown to the most savage nations, hath yearly (without provocation and in cold blood) ravaged the hapless shores of africa, robbing it of its unoffending inhabitants to cultivate her stolen dominions in the west--when i reflect on these, i hesitate not for a moment to believe that the almighty will finally separate america from britain. call it independancy or what you will, if it is the cause of god and humanity it will go on. "and when the almighty shall have blest us, and made us a people _dependent only upon him_, then may our first gratitude be shown by an act of continental legislation, which shall put a stop to the importation of negroes for sale, soften the hard fate of those already here, and in time procure their freedom. "humanus." { } chapter vi. "common sense" in furrows ploughed deep by lawless despotism, watered with blood of patriots, the thetford quaker sowed his seed--true english seed. even while he did so he was suspected of being a british spy, and might have been roughly handled in philadelphia had it not been for franklin. possibly this suspicion may have arisen from his having, in the antislavery letter, asked the americans "to consider with what consistency or decency they complain so loudly of attempts to enslave them, while they hold so many thousands in slavery." perfectly indifferent to this, paine devoted the autumn of to his pamphlet "common sense," which with the new year "burst from the press with an effect which has rarely been produced by types and paper in any age or country." so says dr. benjamin rush, and his assertion, often quoted, has as often been confirmed. of the paramount influence of paine's "common sense" there can indeed be no question.* it reached washington soon after tidings that norfolk, virginia, had been burned (jan. st) by lord dunmore, as falmouth (now portland), maine, had been, oct , , by ships under admiral graves. * "this day was published, and is now selling by robert bell, in third street, [phil.] price two shillings, 'common sense,' addressed to the inhabitants of north america."-- pennsylvania journal, jan. , . the general wrote to joseph reed, from cambridge, jan. st: "a few more of such flaming arguments as were exhibited at falmouth and norfolk, added to the sound doctrine and unanswerable reasoning contained in the pamphlet 'common sense,' will not leave numbers at a loss to decide upon the propriety of separation."* henry wisner, a new york delegate in congress, sent the pamphlet to john mckesson, secretary of the provincial congress sitting in new york city, with the following note: "sir, i have only to ask the favour of you to read this pamphlet, consulting mr. scott and such of the committee of safety as you think proper, particularly orange and ulster, and let me know their and your opinion of the general spirit of it. i would have wrote a letter on the subject, but the bearer is waiting." in pursuance of this general scott suggested a private meeting, and mckesson read the pamphlet aloud. new york, the last state to agree to separation, was alarmed by the pamphlet, and these leaders at first thought of answering it, but found themselves without the necessary arguments. henry wisner, however, required arguments rather than orders, and despite the instructions of his state gave new york the honor of having one name among those who, on july th, voted for independence.** joel barlow, a student in yale college at the beginning of the revolution, has borne testimony to the great effect of paine's pamphlet, as may be seen in his biography by mr. todd. * "the writings of george washington." collected and edited by wotthington chauncey ford, vol. iii., p. . ** mag. am. hist., july, , p. , and dec., , p. . the declaration passed on july th was not signed until aug. d, the postponement being for the purpose of removing the restrictions placed by new york and maryland on their delegates. wisner, the only new york delegate who had voted for the declaration, did not return until after the recess. in trumbull's picture at the capitol thomas stone, a signer for maryland, is left out, and robert livingston of new york is included, though he did not sign it. an original copy of paine's excise pamphlet ( ) in my possession contains a note in pencil, apparently contemporary, suggesting that the introduction was written by barlow. in this introduction--probably by barlow, certainly by a competent observer of events in america--it is said: "on this celebrated publication ['common sense'], which has received the testimony of praise from the wise and learned of different nations, we need only remark (for the merit of every work should be judged by its effect) that it gave spirit and resolution to the americans, who were then wavering and undetermined, to assert their rights, and inspired a decisive energy into their counsels: we may therefore venture to say, without fear of contradiction, that the great american cause owed as much to the pen of paine as to the sword of washington."* * and yet--such was the power of theological intimidation-- even heretical barlow could find no place for paine in his _columbiad_( ). edmund randolph, our first attorney-general, who had been on washington's staff in the beginning of the war, and conducted much of his correspondence, ascribed independence primarily to george iii., but next to "thomas paine, an englishman by birth, and possessing an imagination which happily combined political topics, poured forth in a style hitherto unknown on this side of the atlantic, from the ease with which it insinuated itself into the hearts of the people who were unlearned, or of the learned."* this is from a devout churchman, writing after paine's death. paine's malignant biographer, cheetham ( ), is constrained to say of "common sense": "speaking a language which the colonists had felt but not thought, its popularity, terrible in its consequences to the parent country, was unexampled in the history of the press."** * randolph's "history" (ms.), a possession of the virginia historical society, has been confided to my editorial care for publication. ** see also the historians, ramsay (rev., i., p. , london, ), gordon (rev., ii., p. , new york, ), bryant and gay (u. s., iii., p. , new york, ). let it not be supposed that washington, franklin, jefferson, randolph, and the rest, were carried away by a meteor. deep answers only unto deep. paine's ideas went far because they came far. he was the authentic commoner, representing english freedom in the new world. there was no dreg in the poverty of his people that he had not tasted, no humiliation in their dependence, no outlook of their hopelessness, he had not known, and with the addition of intellectual hungers which made his old-world despair conscious. the squalor and abjectness of thetford, its corporation held in the hollow of grafton's hand, its members of parliament also, the innumerable villages equally helpless, the unspeakable corruptions of the government, the repeated and always baffled efforts of the outraged people for some redress,--these had been brought home to paine in many ways, had finally driven him to america, where he arrived on the hour for which none had been so exactly and thoroughly trained. he had thrown off the old world, and that america had virtually done the same, constituted its attraction for him. in the opening essay in his magazine, written within a month of his arrival in the country (nov. , ), paine speaks of america as a "nation," and his pregnant sentences prove how mature the principles of independence had become in his mind long before the outbreak of hostilities. "america has now outgrown the state of infancy. her strength and commerce make large advances to manhood; and science in all its branches has not only blossomed, but even ripened upon the soil. the cottages as it were of yesterday have grown to villages, and the villages to cities; and while proud antiquity, like a skeleton in rags, parades the streets of other nations, their genius, as if sickened and disgusted with the phantom, comes hither for recovery.... america yet inherits a large portion of her first-imported virtue. degeneracy is here almost a useless word. those who are conversant with europe would be tempted to believe that even the air of the atlantic disagrees with the constitution of foreign vices; if they survive the voyage they either expire on their arrival, or linger away in an incurable consumption. there is a happy something in the climate of america which disarms them of all their power both of infection and attraction." in presently raising the standard of republican independence, paine speaks of separation from england as a foregone conclusion. "i have always considered the independency of this continent as an event which sooner or later must arrive." great britain having forced a collision, the very least that america can demand is separation. "the object contended for ought always to bear some just proportion to the expence. the removal of north, or the whole detestable junto, is a matter unworthy the millions we have expended. a temporary stoppage of trade was an inconvenience which would have sufficiently balanced the repeal of all the acts complained of, had such repeals been obtained; but if the whole continent must take up arms, if every man must be a soldier, 't is scarcely worth our while to fight against a contemptible ministry only. dearly, dearly do we pay for the repeal of the acts, if that is all we fight for; for, in a just estimation, 't is as great a folly to pay a bunker-hill price for law as for land.... it would be policy in the king, at this time, to repeal the acts for the sake of reinstating himself in the government of the provinces, in order that he may accomplish by craft and subtlety, in the long run, what he cannot do by force and violence in the short one. reconciliation and ruin are nearly related." starting with the lowest demand, separation, paine shows the justice and necessity of it lying fundamentally in the nature of monarchy as represented by great britain, and the potential republicanism of colonies composed of people from all countries. the keynote of this is struck in the introduction. the author withholds his name "because the object of attention is the doctrine itself, not the man "; and he affirms, "the cause of america is in a great measure the cause of all mankind." no other pamphlet published during the revolution is comparable with "common sense" for interest to the reader of to-day, or for value as an historical document. therein as in a mirror is beheld the almost incredible england, against which the colonies contended. and therein is reflected the moral, even religious, enthusiasm which raised the struggle above the paltriness of a rebellion against taxation to a great human movement,--a war for an idea. the art with which every sentence is feathered for its aim is consummate. the work was for a time generally attributed to franklin. it is said the doctor was reproached by a loyal lady for using in it such an epithet as "the royal brute of britain." he assured her that he had not written the pamphlet, and would never so dishonor the brute creation. in his letter to cheetham ( ) already referred to, dr. rush claims to have suggested the work to paine, who read the sheets to him and also to dr. franklin. this letter, however, gives so many indications of an enfeebled memory, that it cannot be accepted against paine's own assertion, made in the year following the publication of "common sense," when dr. rush and dr. franklin might have denied it. "in october, , dr. franklin proposed giving me such materials as were in his hands towards completing a history of the present transactions, and seemed desirous of having the first volume out the next spring. i had then formed the outlines of 'common sense,' and finished nearly the first part; and as i supposed the doctor's design in getting out a history was to open the new year with a new system, i expected to surprise him with a production on that subject much earlier than he thought of; and without informing him of what i was doing, got it ready for the press as fast as i conveniently could, and sent him the first pamphlet that was printed off." on the other hand, paine's memory was at fault when he wrote (december , ): "in my publications, i follow the rule i began with in 'common sense.' that is, to consult nobody, nor to let anybody see what i write till it appears publicly." this was certainly his rule, but in the case of "common sense" he himself mentions (_penn. jour_., april , ) having shown parts of the ms. to a "very few." dr. rush is correct in his statement that paine had difficulty in finding "a printer who had boldness enough to publish it," and that he (rush) mentioned the pamphlet to the scotch bookseller, robert bell. for bell says, in a contemporary leaflet: "when the work was at a stand for want of a courageous typographer, i was then recommended by a gentleman nearly in the following words: 'there is bell, he is a republican printer, give it to him, and i will answer for his courage to print it.'" dr. rush probably required some knowledge of the contents of the pamphlet before he made this recommendation. that dr. rush is mistaken in saying the manuscript was submitted to franklin, and a sentence modified by him, is proved by the fact that on february th, more than a month after the pamphlet appeared, franklin introduced paine to gen. charles lee with a letter containing the words, "he is the reputed and, i think, the real author of 'common sense.'" franklin could not have thus hesitated had there been in the work anything of his own, or anything he had seen. beyond such disclosures to dr. rush, and one or two others, as were necessary to secure publication, paine kept the secret of his authorship as long as he could. his recent arrival in the country might have impaired the force of his pamphlet. the authorship of "common sense" was guessed by the "tory" president of the university of philadelphia, the rev. william smith, d.d., who knew pretty well the previous intellectual resources of that city. writing under the name of "cato" he spoke of "the foul pages of interested writers, and strangers intermeddling in our affairs." to which "the forester" (paine) answers: "a freeman, cato, is a stranger nowhere,--a slave, everywhere."* * "the writer of 'common sense' and 'the forester' is the same person. his name is paine, a gentleman about two years ago from england,--a man who, general lee says, has genius in his eyes."--john adams to his wife. the publication of "common sense" had been followed by a number of applauding pamphlets, some of them crude or extravagant, from bell's press. "cato" was anxious to affiliate these "additional doses" on the author of "common sense," who replies: "perhaps there never was a pamphlet, since the use of letters were known, about which so little pains were taken, and of which so great a number went off in so short a time. i am certain that i am within compass when i say one hundred and twenty thousand. the book was turned upon the world like an orphan to shift for itself; no plan was formed to support it, neither hath the author ever published a syllable on the subject from that time till after the appearance of cato's fourth letter." this letter of "the forester" is dated april th (printed on the th). "common sense," published january th, had, therefore, in less than three months, gained this sale. in the end probably half a million copies were sold. in reply to "cato's" sneer about "interested writers," paine did not announce the fact that he had donated the copyright to the states for the cause of independence. it was sold at two shillings, and the author thus gave away a fortune in that pamphlet alone. it never brought him a penny; he must even have paid for copies himself, as the publisher figured up a debt against him, on account of "common sense," for £ s. d. notwithstanding this experience and the popularity he had acquired, paine also gave to the states the copyright of his _crisis_ (thirteen numbers), was taunted by tories as a "garreteer," ate his crust contentedly, peace finding him a penniless patriot, who might easily have had fifty thousand pounds in his pocket. the controversy between "cato" and "the forester" was the most important that preceded the declaration of independence. the president of the university represented "toryism" in distress. the "massacre at lexington" disabled him from justifying the government, which, however, he was not prepared to denounce. he was compelled to assume the tone of an american, while at the same time addressing his appeal "to the people of pennsylvania," trying to detach its non-resident quakers and its mercantile interest from sympathy with the general cause. having a bad case, in view of lexington, he naturally resorted to abuse of the plaintiff's attorney. he soon found that when it came to quaker sentiment and dialect, his unknown antagonist was at home. "remember, thou hast thrown me the glove, cato, and either thee or i must tire. i fear not the field of fair debate, but thou hast stepped aside and made it personal. thou hast tauntingly called me by name; and if i cease to hunt thee from every lane and lurking hole of mischief, and bring thee not a trembling culprit before the public bar, then brand me with reproach by naming me in the list of your confederates." "the forester" declares his respect for the honest and undisguised opponents of independence. "to be nobly wrong is more manly than to be meanly right." but "cato" wears the mask of a friend, and shall be proved a foe. the so-called "tories" of the american revolution have never had justice done them. in another work i have told the story of john randolph, king's attorney in virginia, and there were many other martyrs of loyalty in those days.* four months after the affair at lexington, thomas jefferson wrote to john randolph, in london: "looking with fondness towards a reconciliation with great britain, i cannot help hoping you may be able to contribute towards expediting the good work." this was written on august , ; and if this was the feeling of jefferson only ten months before the declaration, how many, of more moderate temper, surrounded "cato" and "the forester" in loyal and peace-loving philadelphia? but "cato" was believed ungenuine. the rev. dr. william smith, who wrote under that name, a native of aberdeen with an oxonian d.d., had been a glowing whig patriot until june, . but his wife was a daughter of the loyalist, william moore. this lady of fashion was distinguished by her contempt for the independents, and her husband, now near fifty, was led into a false position.** * "omitted chapters of history, disclosed in the life and papers of edmund randolph," p. . ** r. h. lee, in a letter to his brother (july , ) says: "we had a magnificent celebration of the anniversary of independence. the whigs of the city dressed up a woman of the town with the monstrous head-dress of the tory ladies, and escorted her through the town with a great concourse of people. her head was elegantly and expensively dressed, i suppose about three feet high and proportionate width, with a profusion of curls, etc. the figure was droll, and occasioned much mirth. it has lessened some heads already, and will probably bring the rest within the bounds of reason, for they are monstrous indeed. the tory wife of dr. smith has christened this figure continella, or the duchess of independence, and prayed for a pin from her head by way of relic. the tory women are very much mortified, notwithstanding this."--"omitted chapters of history," p. . "cato's" brilliant wife had to retire before "continella" in the following year. the charter of the college of philadelphia was taken away, and its president retired to an obscure living at chestertown, maryland. he had, however, some of the dexterity of the vicar of bray; when the cause he had reviled was nearly won he founded a "washington" college in maryland. he was chosen by that diocese for a bishop ( ), but the general convention refused to recommend him for consecration. in he managed to regain his place as college president in philadelphia. he held the highest literary position in philadelphia, and perhaps felt some jealousy of paine's fame. he picked out all the mistakes he could find in "common sense," and tried in every way to belittle his antagonist. himself a scotchman, his wife an englishwoman, he sneered at paine for being a foreigner; having modified his principles to those of the loyalist's daughter, he denounced paine as an "interested writer." he was out of his element in the controversy he began with personalities. he spoke of the trouble as a lovers' quarrel. paine answers: "it was not in the power of france or spain, or all the other powers in europe, to have given such a wound, or raised us to such mortal hatred as britain hath done. we see the same kind of undescribed anger at her conduct, as we would at the sight of an animal devouring its young." the strongest point of "cato" was based on the proposed embassy for negotiation, and he demanded reverence for "ambassadors coming to negotiate a peace." to this "the forester" replied: "cato discovers a gross ignorance of the british constitution in supposing that these men _can_ be empowered to act as ambassadors. to prevent his future errors, i will set him right. the present war differs from every other, in this instance, viz., that it is not carried on under the prerogative of the crown, as other wars have always been, but under the authority of the whole legislative power united; and as the barriers which stand in the way of a negotiation are not proclamations, but acts of parliament, it evidently follows that were even the king of england here in person, he could not ratify the terms or conditions of a reconciliation; because, in the single character of king, he could not stipulate for the repeal of any acts of parliament, neither can the parliament stipulate for him. there is no body of men more jealous of their privileges than the commons: because they sell them." paine wrote three letters in reply to "cato," the last of which contained a memorable warning to the people on the eve of the declaration of independence: "_forget not the hapless african_." that was forgotten, but the summing up made dr. william smith an object of detestation. he never ventured into political controversy again, and when he returned from exile to philadelphia, a penitent patriot, he found his old antagonist, thomas paine, honored by a degree from the university of pennsylvania into which the college had been absorbed. on may th a fourth letter, signed "the forester," appeared in the same paper (_pennsylvania journal_), which i at first suspected of not being from paine's pen.* this was because of a sentence beginning: "the clergy of the english church, of which i profess myself a member," etc. there is no need to question the truth of this, for, as we have seen, paine had been confirmed, and no doubt previously baptized; nor is there reason to disbelieve the statement of oldys that he wished to enter holy orders. there was a good deal of rationalism in the american church at that time, and that paine, with his religious fervor and tendency to inquire, should have maintained his place in that scholarly church is natural. his quakerism was a philosophy, but he could by no means have found any home in its rigid and dogmatic societies in philadelphia. the casual sentence above quoted was probably inserted for candor, as the letter containing it opens with a censure on the attitude of the quakers towards the proposal for independence. the occasion was an election of four burgesses to represent philadelphia in the state assembly, a body in which quakers (loyalists) preponderated. had the independents been elected they must have taken the oath of allegiance to the crown, with which the state was at war. indeed paine declares that the "tories" succeeded in the election because so many patriots were absent for defence of their country. under these circumstances paine urges the necessity of a popular convention. the house of assembly is disqualified from "sitting in its own case." * a theft of paine's usual signature led to his first public identification of himself (feb. , ). "as my signature, 'common sense,' has been counterfeited, either by mr. [silas] deane, or some of his adherents in mr. bradford's paper of feb. , i shall subscribe this with my name, thomas paine." he, however, in almon's remembrancer (vol. viii.) is indexed by name in connection with a letter of the previous year signed "common sense." the extracts given from this letter are of historic interest as reflecting the conflict of opinions in pennsylvania amid which the declaration was passed two months later. "whoever will take the trouble of attending to the progress and changeability of times and things, and the conduct of mankind thereon, will find that _extraordinary circumstances_ do sometimes arise before us, of a species, either so purely natural or so perfectly original, that none but the man of nature can understand them. when precedents fail to assist us, we must return to the first principles of things for information, and think, as if we were the first men that thought. and this is the true reason, that in the present state of affairs, the wise are become foolish, and the foolish wise. i am led to this reflection by not being able to account for the conduct of the quakers on any other; for although they do not seem to perceive it themselves, yet it is amazing to hear with what unanswerable ignorance many of that body, wise in other matters, will discourse on the present one. did they hold places or commissions under the king, were they governors of provinces, or had they any interest apparently distinct from us, the mystery would cease; but as they have not, their folly is best attributed to that superabundance of worldly knowledge which in original matters is too cunning to be wise. back to the first plain path of nature, friends, and begin anew, for in this business your first footsteps were wrong. you have now travelled to the summit of inconsistency, and that, with such accelerated rapidity as to acquire autumnal ripeness by the first of may. now your _rotting time comes on_." "the forester" reminds the quakers of their predecessors who, in , defended the rights of the people against the proprietor. he warns them that the people, though unable to vote, represent a patriotic power tenfold the strength of toryism, by which they will not submit to be ruled. "he that is wise will reflect, that the safest asylum, especially in times of general convulsion, when no settled form of government prevails, is _the love of the people_. all property is safe under their protection. even in countries where the lowest and most licentious of them have risen into outrage, they have never departed from the path of _natural_ honor. volunteers unto death in defence of the person or fortune of those who had served or defended them, division of property never entered the mind of the populace. it is incompatible with that spirit which impels them into action. an avaricious mob was never heard of; nay, even a miser, pausing in the midst of them, and catching their spirit, would from that instant cease to be covetous." the quakers of pennsylvania and new jersey had held a congress in philadelphia and issued (january th) "the ancient testimony and principles of the people called quakers renewed, with respect to the king and government; and touching the commotions now prevailing in these and other parts of america; addressed to the people in general." under this lamb-like tract, and its bleat of texts, was quite discoverable the "tory" wolf; but it was widely circulated and became a danger. the quakers of rhode island actually made efforts to smuggle provisions into boston during the siege. paine presently reviewed this testimony in a pamphlet, one extract from which will show that he could preach a better quaker sermon than any of them: "o ye partial ministers of your own acknowledged principles! if the bearing arms be sinful, the first going to war must be more so, by all the difference between wilful attack and unavoidable defence. wherefore, if ye really preach from conscience, and mean not to make a political hobbyhorse of your religion, convince the world thereof by proclaiming your doctrine to our enemies, for they likewise bear arms. give us proof of your sincerity by publishing it at st james's, to the commanders in chief at boston, to the admirals and captains who are piratically ravaging our coasts, and to all the murdering miscreants who are acting in authority under him whom ye profess to serve. had ye the honest soul of barclay ye would preach repentance to your king; ye would tell the royal wretch his sins, and warn him of eternal ruin; ye would not spend your partial invectives against the injured and insulted only, but, like faithful ministers, cry aloud and spare none." * paine was not then aware of the extent of the intrigues of leading quakers with the enemy. the state archives of england and france contain remarkable evidences on this subject. paul wentworth, in a report to the english government ( or .) mentions the loyalty of pemberton and the quakers. wentworth says that since the publication of "common sense" it had become hard to discover the real opinions of leading men. "mr. payne," he says, "should not be forgot. he is an englishman, was schoolmaster in philadelphia; must be driven to work; naturally indolent; led by his passions." these "passions," chiefly for liberty and humanity, seem to have so driven the indolent man to work that, according to wentworth, his pamphlet "worked up [the people] to such a high temper as fitted them for the impression of the declaration, etc." the quakers, however, held out long, though more covertly. m. gerard de rayneval, in a letter from philadelphia, sept. , , reports to his government: "during the occupation of philadelphia by the english, proofs were obtained of the services rendered them by the quakers; some of these were caught acting as spies, etc." la luzerne writes (may , ): "all the quakers in philadelphia who have taken up arms, or voluntarily paid war taxes, have been excommunicated; these, increasing in number, declare themselves loyal." see for further information on this matter, "new materials for the history of the american revolution," etc by john durand. new york, , chapter vii. under the banner of independence as in north carolina had occurred the first armed resistance to british oppressions ( ), and its mecklenburg county been the first to organize a government independent of the crown, so was that colony the first to instruct its delegates in congress to vote for national independence. she was followed in succession by south carolina,* virginia,** massachusetts, rhode island, connecticut, new hampshire, georgia, new jersey, delaware, and pennsylvania. maryland passed patriotic resolutions, but not sufficiently decisive for its delegates to act. new york alone forbade its delegates to vote for independence. * colonel gadsden, having left the continental congress to take command in south carolina, appeared in the provincial congress at charleston february , . "col. gadsden (having brought the first copy of paine's pamphlet 'common sense, etc.,') boldly declared himself... for the absolute independence of america. this last sentiment came like an explosion of thunder on the members" (rev. john drayton's memoirs; etc., p. ). the sentiment was abhorred, and a member "called the author of 'common sense' --------"; but on march st the pamphlet was reinforced by tidings of an act of parliament (dec. , ) for seizure of american ships, and on march d south carolina instructed its delegates at philadelphia to agree to whatever that congress should "judge necessary, etc." ** a thousand copies of "common sense" were at once ordered from virginia, and many more followed. on april st washington writes to joseph reed: "by private letters which i have lately received from virginia, i find 'common sense' is working a wonderful change there in the minds of many men." on june th union with england was "totally dissolved" by virginia. meanwhile, on june th, richard henry lee, in behalf of the virginians, had submitted resolutions of independence; but as six states hesitated, congress adjourned the decision until july st, appointing, however, (june th) a committee to consider the proper form of the probable declaration--jefferson, john adams, franklin, roger sherman, and robert r. livingston. but this interval, from june th to july st, was perilous for independence. news came of the approach of lord howe bearing from england the "olive branch." the powerful colonies new york and pennsylvania were especially anxious to await the proposals for peace. at this juncture paine issued one of his most effective pamphlets, "a dialogue between the ghost of general montgomery, just arrived from the ely-sian fields, and an american delegate, in a wood near philadelphia." montgomery, the first heroic figure fallen in the war, reproaches the hesitating delegate for willingness to accept pardon from a royal criminal for defending "the rights of humanity." he points out that france only awaits their declaration of independence to come to their aid, and that america "teems with patriots, heroes, and legislators who are impatient to burst forth into light and importance." the most effective part of the pamphlet, however, was a reply to the commercial apprehensions of new york and pennsylvania. "your dependance upon the crown is no advantage, but rather an injury, to the people of great britain, as it increases the power and influence of the king. the people are benefited only by your trade, and this they may have after you are independent of the crown." there is a shrewd prescience of what actually happened shown in this opportune work. of course the gallant ghost remarks that "monarchy and aristocracy have in all ages been the vehicles of slavery." the allusion to the arming of negroes and indians against america, and other passages, resemble clauses in one of the paragraphs eliminated from the original declaration of independence. at this time paine saw much of jefferson, and there can be little doubt that the anti-slavery clause struck out of the declaration was written by paine, or by some one who had paine's anti-slavery essay before him. in the following passages it will be observed that the antitheses are nearly the same--"infidel and christian," "heathen and christian." [illustration: anti-slavery essay - ] paragraph struck out of the declaration. "he has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating its most sacred rights of life and liberty in the persons of a distant people who never offended him, captivating and carrying them into slavery in another hemisphere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation thither. this piratical warfare, the opprobrium of infidel powers, is the warfare of the christian king of great britain. determined to keep open a market where men should be bought and sold, he has prostituted his negative for suppressing every legislative attempt to prohibit or restrain this execrable commerce. and that this assemblage of horrors might want no fact of distinguished die, he is now exciting those very people to rise in arms among us, and to purchase that liberty of which he has deprived them by murdering the people on whom he has obtruded them, thus paying off former crimes committed against the liberties of one people with crimes which he urges them to commit against the lives of another." thomas paine. "--these inoffensive people are brought into slavery, by stealing them, tempting kings to sell subjects, which they can have no right to do, and hiring one tribe to war against another, in order to catch prisoners. by such wicked and inhuman ways the english, etc.... an hight of outrage that seems left by heathen nations to be practised by pretended chris hansr "--that barbarous and hellish power which has stirred up the indians and negroes to destroy us; the cruelty hath a double guilt--it is dealing brutally by us and treacherously by them." thus did paine try to lay at the corner the stone which the builders rejected, and which afterwards ground their descendants to powder. jefferson withdrew the clause on the objection of georgia and south carolina, which wanted slaves, and of northerners interested in supplying them. that, however, was not known till all the parties were dead. paine had no reason to suppose that the declaration of human freedom and equality, passed july th, could fail eventually to include the african slaves. the declaration embodied every principle he had been asserting, and indeed cobbett is correct in saying that whoever may have written the declaration paine was its author. the world being his country, and america having founded its independence on such universal interests, paine could not hesitate to become a soldier for mankind.* his quaker principles, always humanized, were not such as would applaud a resistance in which he was not prepared to participate. while the signers of the declaration of independence were affixing their names--a procedure which reached from august d into november--paine resigned his _pennsylvania magazine_, and marched with his musket to the front. he enlisted in a pennsylvania division of the flying camp of ten thousand men, who were to be sent wherever needed. he was under general roberdeau, and assigned at first to service at amboy, afterwards at bergen. the flying camp was enlisted for a brief period, and when that had expired paine travelled to fort lee, on the hudson, and renewed his enlistment. fort lee was under the command of general nathaniel greene who, on or about september th, appointed paine a volunteer aide-de-camp. * professor john fiske (whose "american revolution" suffers from ignorance of paine's papers) appreciates the effect of paine's "common sense" but not its cause. he praises the pamphlet highly, but proves that he has only glanced at it by his exception: "the pamphlet is full of scurrilous abuse of the english people; and resorts to such stupid arguments as the denial of the english origin of the americans" (i., p. ). starting with the principle that the cause of america is "the cause of all mankind," paine abuses no people, but only their oppressors. as to paine's argument, it might have appeared less "stupid" to professor fiske had he realized that in paine's mind negroes were the equals of whites. however, paine does not particularly mention negroes; his argument was meant to carry its point, and it might have been imprudent for him, in that connection, to have classed the slaves with the germans, who formed a majority in pennsylvania, and with the dutch of new york. in replying to the "mother-country" argument it appears to me far from stupid to point out that europe is our parent country, and that if english descent made men englishmen, the descendants of william the conqueror and half the peers of england were frenchmen, and, if the logic held, should be governed by france. general greene in a gossipy letter to his wife (november d) says: "common sense (thomas paine) and colonel snarl, or cornwell, are perpetually wrangling about mathematical problems." on november th came the surprise of fort lee; the boiling kettles and baking ovens of a dinner to be devoured by the british were abandoned, with three hundred tents, for a retreat made the more miserable by hunger and cold. by november d the whole army had retreated to newark, where paine began writing his famous first _crisis_.* * sec almon's remembrancer, , p. , for paine's graphic journal of this retreat, quoted from the pennsylvania journal. in reply to those who censured the retreat as pusillanimous, he states that "our army was at one time less than a thousand effective men and never more than , ," the pursuers being " , exclusive of their artillery and light horse"; he declares that posterity will call the retreat "glorious--and the names of washington and fabius will run paralell to eternity." in the pennsylvania packet (march , ) paine says: "i had begun the first number of the crisis while on the retreat, at newark, with a design of publishing it in the jersies, as it was general washington's intention to have made a stand at newark, could he have been timely reenforced; instead of which nearly half the army left him at that place, or soon after, their time being out." he could only write at night; during the day there was constant work for every soldier of the little force surrounding washington. "i am wearied almost to death with the retrogade motion of things," wrote washington to his brother (november th), "and i solemnly protest that a pecuniary reward of twenty thousand pounds a year would not induce me to undergo what i do; and after all, perhaps to lose my character, as it is impossible, under such a variety of distressing circumstances, to conduct matters agreeably to public expectation." on november th he writes from newark to general lee: "it has been more owing to the badness of the weather that the enemy's progress has been checked, than to any resistance we could make." even while he wrote the enemy drew near, and the next day (november th) entered one end of newark as washington left the other. at brunswick he was joined by general williamson's militia, and on the delaware by the philadelphia militia, and could muster five thousand against howe's whole army. "i tremble for philadelphia," writes washington to lund washington (december th). "nothing in my opinion, but general lee's speedy arrival, who has been long expected, though still at a distance (with about three thousand men), can save it." on december th lee was a prisoner, and on the th washington writes to the same relative: "your imagination can scarce extend to a situation more distressing than mine. our only dependence now is upon the speedy enlistment of a new army. if this fails, i think the game will be pretty well up, as from disaffection and want of spirit and fortitude, the inhabitants, instead of resistance, are offering submission and taking protection from gen. howe in jersey." the day before, he had written to the president of congress that the situation was critical, and the distresses of his soldiers "extremely great, many of 'em being entirely naked and most so thinly clad as to be unfit for service." on december th he writes to his brother: "you can form no idea of the perplexity of my situation. no man, i believe, ever had a greater choice of difficulties, and less means to extricate himself from them. however, under a full persuasion of the justice of our cause, i cannot entertain an idea that it will finally sink, tho' it may remain for some time under a cloud." under that cloud, by washington's side, was silently at work the force that lifted it marching by day, listening to the consultations of washington and his generals, paine wrote by the camp fires; the winter storms, the delaware's waves, were mingled with his ink; the half-naked soldiers in their troubled sleep dreaming of their distant homes, the skulking deserter creeping off in the dusk, the pallid face of the heavy-hearted commander, made the awful shadows beneath which was written that leaflet which went to the philadelphia printer along with washington's last foreboding letters to his relatives in virginia. it was printed on december th,* and many copies reached the camp above trenton falls on the eve of that almost desperate attack on which washington had resolved. on the d december he wrote to colonel joseph reed: * the pamphlet was dated december rd, but it had appeared on the th in the pennsylvania journal, the pen none have achieved such vast results as paine's "common sense" and his first _crisis_, before the battle of trenton the half- clad, dis-heartened soldiers of washington were called together in groups to listen to that thrilling exhortation. "christmas-day, at night, one hour before day, is the time fixed upon for our attempt on trenton. for heaven's sake keep this to yourself, as the discovery of it may prove fatal to us; our numbers, sorry i am to say, being less than i had any conception of; but necessity, dire necessity will, nay must, justify any attempt." america has known some utterances of the lips equivalent to decisive victories in the field,--as some of patrick henry's, and the address of president lincoln at gettysburg. the opening words alone were a victory. "these are the times that try men's souls. the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict the more glorious the triumph: what we obtain too cheap we esteem too lightly; 't is dearness only that gives everything its value. heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated." not a chord of faith, or love, or hope was left untouched. the very faults of the composition, which the dilettanti have picked out, were effective to men who had seen paine on the march, and knew these things were written in sleepless intervals of unwearied labors. he speaks of what joan of arc did in "the fourteenth century," and exclaims: "would that heaven might inspire some jersey maid to spirit up her countrymen, and save her fair fellow sufferers from ravage and ravishment!" joan was born in , but paine had no cyclopaedia in his knapsack. the literary musket reaches its mark. the pamphlet was never surpassed for true eloquence--that is, for the power that carries its point. with skilful illustration of lofty principles by significant details, all summed with simplicity and sympathy, three of the most miserable weeks ever endured by men were raised into epical dignity. the wives, daughters, mothers, sisters, seemed stretching out appealing hands against the mythically monstrous hessians. the great commander, previously pointed to as "a mind that can even flourish upon care," presently saw his dispirited soldiers beaming with hope, and bounding to the onset,--their watchword: _these are the times that try men's souls_! /trenton was won, the hessians captured, and a new year broke for america on the morrow of that christmas day, .* * paine's enemy, cheetham, durst not, in the face of washington's expression of his "lively sense of the importance of your [paine's] works," challenge well known facts, and must needs partly confess them: "the number was read in the camp, to every corporal's guard, and in the army and out of it had more than the intended effect. the convention of new york, reduced by dispersion, occasioned by alarm, to nine members, was rallied and reanimated. militiamen who, already tired of the war, were straggling from the army, returned. hope succeeded to despair, cheerfulness to gloom, and firmness to irresolution. to the confidence which it inspired may be attributed much of the brilliant little affair which in the same month followed at trenton." even oldys is somewhat impressed by paine's courage: "the congress fled. all were dismayed. not so our author." paine's trenton musket had hardly cooled, or the pen of his first _crisis_ dried, before he began to write another. it appeared about four weeks after the battle and is addressed to lord howe. the thetford mechanic has some pride in confronting this english lord who had offered the americans mercy. "your lordship, i find, has now commenced author, and published a proclamation; i have published a crisis." the rumors of his being a hireling scribe, or gaining wealth by his publications, made it necessary for paine to speak of himself at the conclusion: "what i write is pure nature, and my pen and my soul have ever gone together. my writings i have always given away, receiving only the expense of printing and paper, and sometimes not even that. i never counted either fame or interest, and my manner of life, to those who know it, will justify what i say. my study is to be useful, and if your lordship loves mankind as well as i do, you would, seeing you cannot conquer us, cast about and lend your hand towards accomplishing a peace. our independence, with god's blessing, we will maintain against all the world; but as we wish to avoid evil ourselves, we wish not to inflict it on others. i am never over-inquisitive into the secrets of the cabinet, but i have some notion that, if you neglect the present opportunity, it will not be in our power to make a separate peace with you afterwards; for whatever treaties or alliances we form we shall most faithfully abide by; wherefore you may be deceived if you think you can make it with us at any time." thus the humble author of the crisis offers the noble author of the proclamation "mercy," on condition of laying down his arms, and going home; but it must be at once! if howe, as is most likely, considered this mere impudence, he presently had reason to take it more seriously. for there were increasing indications that paine was in the confidence of those who controlled affairs. on january st he was appointed by the council of safety in philadelphia secretary to the commission sent by congress to treat with the indians at easton, pennsylvania. the commissioners, with a thousand dollars' worth of presents, met the indian chiefs in the german reformed church (built ), and, as they reported to congress, "after shaking hands, drinking rum, while the organ played, we proceeded to business."* * condit's "history of easton," pp. , , the report was, no doubt, written by paine, who for his services was paid £ by the pennsylvania assembly (one of its advances for congress, afterwards refunded). in a public letter, written in , paine relates an anecdote concerning this meeting with the indians. "the chief of the tribes, who went by the name of king last-night, because his tribe had sold their lands, had seen some english men-of-war in some of the waters of canada, and was impressed with the power of those great canoes; but he saw that the english made no progress against us by land. this was enough for an indian to form an opinion by. he could speak some english, and in conversation with me, alluding to the great canoes, he gave me his idea of the power of a king of england, by the following metaphor. 'the king of england,' said he, 'is like a fish. when he is in the water he can wag his tail; when he comes on land he lays down on his side.' now if the english government had but half the sense this indian had, they would not have sent duckworth to constantinople, and douglas to norfolk, to lay down on their side." on april th, when congress transformed the "committee of secret correspondence" into the "committee of foreign affairs," paine was elected its secretary. his friend, dr. franklin, had reached france in december, , where arthur lee and silas deane were already at work. lord howe might, indeed, have done worse than take paine's advice concerning the "opportunity," which did not return. general howe did, indeed, presently occupy a fine abode in philadelphia, but only kept it warm, to be afterwards the executive mansion of president washington. { } chapter viii. soldier and secretary after their disaster at trenton, the english forces suspended hostilities for a long time. paine, maintaining his place on general greene's staff, complied with the wish of all the generals by wielding his pen during the truce of arms. he sat himself down in philadelphia, "second street, opposite the quaker meeting,"--as he writes the address. the quakers regarded him as antichrist pursuing them into close quarters. untaught by castigation, the leaders of the society, and chiefly one john pemberton, disguised allies of the howes, had put forth, november , , a second and more dangerous "testimony." in it they counsel friends to refuse obedience to whatever "instructions or ordinances" may be published, not warranted by "that happy constitution under which they and others long enjoyed tranquillity and peace." in his second _crisis_ (january , ) paine refers to this document, and a memorial, from "a meeting of a reputable number of the inhabitants of the city of philadelphia," called attention of the board of safety to its treasonable character. the board, however, not having acted, paine devoted his next three months to a treatment of that and all other moral and political problems which had been developed by the course of the revolution, and must be practically dealt with. in reading this third _crisis_, one feels in every sentence its writer's increased sense of responsibility. events had given him the seat of a lawgiver. his first pamphlet had dictated the declaration of independence, his second had largely won its first victory, his third had demonstrated the impossibility of subjugation, and offered england peace on the only possible terms. the american heart had responded without a dissonant note; he held it in his hand; he knew that what he was writing in that room "opposite the quaker meeting" were acts of congress. so it proved. the third _crisis_ was dated april , , the second anniversary of the first collision (lexington). it was as effective in dealing with the internal enemies of the country as the first had been in checking its avowed foes. it was written in a city still largely, if not preponderantly, "tory," and he deals with them in all their varieties, not arraigning the friends as a society. having carefully shown that independence, from being a natural right, had become a political and moral necessity, and the war one "on which a world is staked," he says that "tories" endeavoring to insure their property with the enemy should be made to fear still more losing it on the other side. paine proposes an "oath or affirmation" renouncing allegiance to the king, pledging support to the united states. at the same time let a tax of ten, fifteen, or twenty per cent be levied on all property. each who takes the oath may exempt his property by holding himself ready to do what service he can for the cause; they who refuse the oath will be paying a tax on their insurance with the enemy. "it would not only be good policy but strict justice to raise fifty or one hundred thousand pounds, or more, if it is necessary, out of the estates and property of the king of england's votaries, resident in philadelphia, to be distributed as a reward to those inhabitants of the city and state who should turn out and repulse the enemy should they attempt to march this way." these words were written at a moment when a vigorous opposition, in and out of congress, was offered to washington's proclamation (morris-town, january , ,) demanding that an oath of allegiance to the united states should be required of all who had taken such an oath to the king, non-jurors to remove within the enemy's lines, or be treated as enemies. paine's proposal was partly followed on june th, when pennsylvania exacted an oath of allegiance to the state from all over eighteen years of age. paine was really the secretary of foreign affairs. his election had not been without opposition, and, according to john adams, there was a suggestion that some of his earlier writings had been unfavorable to this country. what the reference was i cannot understand unless it was to his anti-slavery essay, in which he asked americans with what consistency they could protest against being enslaved while they were enslaving others. that essay, i have long believed, caused a secret, silent, hostility to the author by which he suffered much without suspecting it. but he was an indefatigable secretary. an example of the care with which foreign representatives were kept informed appears in a letter to william bingham, agent of congress at martinique. "philadelphia, july th, .--sir,--a very sudden opportunity offers of sending you the news-papers, from which you will collect the situation of our affairs. the enemy finding their attempt of marching thro' the jersies to this city impracticable, have retreated to staten island seemingly discontented and dispirited and quite at a loss what step next to pursue. our army is now well recruited and formidable. our militia in the several states ready at a day's notice to turn out and support the army when occasion requires; and tho' we cannot, in the course of a campaign, expect everything in the several parts of the continent, to go just as we wish it; yet the general face of our affairs assures us of final success. "in the papers of june th & and july d you will find genl. washington and arnold's letters of the enemy's movement in, and retreat from the jersies. we are under some apprehensions for ticonderoga, as we find the enemy are unexpectedly come into that quarter. the congress have several times had it in contemplation to remove the garrison from that place--as by experience we find that men shut up in forts are not of so much use as in the field, especially in the highlands where every hill is a natural fortification. "i am sir "your obt. humble servt. "thomas paine. "secretry to the committee for foreign affairs."' * ms., for which i am indebted to mr. simon gratz, philadelphia. after the occupation of philadelphia by the british (september , ), paine had many adventures, as we shall presently see. he seems to have been with washington at valley forge when the pennsylvania assembly and president (thomas wharton, jr.,) confided to him the delicate and arduous task assigned by the following from timothy matlack, secretary of the assembly: "lancaster, oct. , . sir,--the hon'ble house of as'y have proposed and council have adopted a plan of obtaining more regular and constant intelligence of the proceeding of gen. washington's army than has hitherto been had. everyone agrees that you are the proper person for this purpose, and i am directed by his exc'y, the pr't, to write to you hereon (the prs't being engaged in writing to the gen'l, and the express in waiting). "the assembly have agreed to make you a reasonable compensation for your services in this business, if you think proper to engage in it, which i hope you will; as it is a duty of importance that there are few, however well disposed, who are capable of doing in a manner that will answer all the intentions of it--perhaps a correspondence of this kind may be the fairest opportunity of giving to council some important hints that may occur to you on interesting subjects. "proper expresses will be engaged in this business. if the expresses which pass from headquarters to congress can be made use of so much the better;--of this you must be judge. "i expect mr. rittenhouse will send you a copy of the testimony of the late y. m. by this opp'y, if time will admit it to be copied--'t is a poor thing.--yours, &c, t. m."* * pa. arch., , p. . paine at once set to work: p. , . what with this service, and his correspondence with foreign agents, paine had his hands pretty full. but at the same time he wrote important letters to leading members of congress, then in session at york, pennsylvania. the subjoined letter sheds fresh light on a somewhat obscure point in our revolutionary history,--the obscurity being due to the evasions of american historians on an episode of which we have little reason to be proud. an article of burgoyne's capitulation (october th) was as follows: "a free passage to be granted to the army under general burgoyne to great britain, upon condition of not serving again in north america during the present contest: and the port of boston to be assigned for entry of transports to receive the troops whenever general howe shall so order." a letter was written by paine to hon. richard henry lee, dated at "headquarters, fourteen miles from philadelphia," october th, . "i wrote you last tuesday st inst., including a copy of the king's speech, since which nothing material has happened at camp. genl. mcdougal was sent last wednesday night d. to attack a party of the enemy who lay over the schuylkill at grey's ferry where they have a bridge. genls. greene & sullivan went down to make a diversion below german town at the same time. i was with this last party, but as the enemy withdrew their detachment we had only our labor for our pains. "no particulars of the northern affair have yet come to head qrs., the want of which has caused much speculation. a copy, said to be the articles of capitulation was recd. or days ago, but they rather appear to be some proposals made by burgoyne, than the capitulation itself. by those articles it appears to me that burgoyne has capitulated upon terms, which we have a right to doubt the full performance of, vizt., 'that the offrs. and men shall be transported to england and not serve in or against north america during the present war'--or words to this effect. "i remark, that this capitulation, if true, has the air of a national treaty; it is binding, not only on burgoyne as a general, but on england as a nation; because the troops are to be subject to the conditions of the treaty after they return to england and are out of his command. it regards england and america as separate sovereign states, and puts them on an equal footing by staking the faith and honor of the former for the performance of a contract entered into with the latter. "what in the capitulation is stiled the '_present war_' england affects to call a '_rebellion_,' and while she holds this idea and denies any knowledge of america as a separate sovereign power, she will not conceive herself bound by any capitulation or treaty entered into by her generals which is to bind her as a _nation_, and more especially in those cases where both pride and present advantage tempt her to a violation. she will deny burgoyne's right and authority for making such a treaty, and will, very possibly, show her insult by first censuring him for entering into it, and then immediately sending the troops back. "i think we ought to be exceedingly cautious how we trust her with the power of abusing our credulity. we have no authority for believing she will perform that part of the contract which subjects her not to send the troops to america during the war. the insolent answer given to the commissrs. by ld. stormont, '_that the king's ambassadors reed, no letters from rebels but when they came to crave mercy?_ sufficiently instructs us not to entrust them with the power of insulting treaties of capitulation. "query, whether it wd. not be proper to detain the troops at boston & direct the commissioners at paris to present the treaty of capitulation to the english court thro' the hands of ld. stormont, to know whether it be the intention of that court to abide strictly by the conditions and obligations thereof, and if no assurance be obtained to keep the troops until they can be exchanged here. "tho' we have no immediate knowledge of any alliance formed by our commissioners with france or spain, yet we have no assurance there is not, and our immediate release of those prisoners, by sending them to england, may operate to the injury of such allied powers, and be perhaps directly contrary to some contract subsisting between us and them prior to the capitulation. i think we ought to know this first.--query, ought we not (knowing the infidelity they have already acted) to suspect they will evade the treaty by putting back into new york under pretence of distress.--i would not trust them an inch farther than i could see them in the present state of things. "the army was to have marched yesterday about or miles but the weather has been so exceedingly bad for three days past as to prevent any kind of movement, the waters are so much out and the rivulets so high there is no passing from one part of ye camp to another. "i wish the northern army was down here. i am apt to think that nothing materially offensive will take place on our part at present. some means must be taken to fill up the army this winter. i look upon the recruiting service at an end and that some other plan must be adopted. suppose the service be by draft--and that those who are not drawn should contribute a dollar or two dollars a man to him on whom the lot falls.--something of this kind would proportion the burthen, and those who are drawn would have something either to encourage them to go, or to provide a substitute with--after closing this letter i shall go again to fort mifflin; all was safe there on the th, but from some preparations of the enemy they expect another attack somewhere. "the enclosed return of provision and stores is taken from an account signed by burgoyne and sent to ld. george germain. i have not time to copy the whole. burgoyne closes his letter as follows, 'by a written account found in the commissary's house at ticonderoga six thousand odd hundred persons were fed from the magazine the day before the evacuation.' "i am dear sir, yr. affectionate hble. servt. "t. paine. "respectful compts. to friends. "if the congress has the capitulation and particulars of ye surrender, they do an exceeding wrong thing by not publishing ym. because they subject the whole affair to suspicion."' * i am indebted for this letter to dr. john s. h. fogg of boston. it bears the superscription: "honbl. richd. henry lee esq. (in congress) york town. forwarded by yr humble servt. t. matlack, nov. , ." endorsed in handwriting of lee: "oct: . mr. paine, author of 'common sense.'" had this proposal of paine, with regard to bur-goyne's capitulation, been followed at once, a blot on the history of our revolution might have been prevented. the time required to march the prisoners to boston and prepare the transports would have given england opportunity to ratify the articles of capitulation. washington, with characteristic inability to see injustice in anything advantageous to america, desired congress to delay in every possible way the return of the prisoners to england, "since the most virtuous adhesion to the articles would not prevent their replacing in garrison an equal number of soldiers who might be sent against us." the troops were therefore delayed on one pretext and another until burgoyne declared that "the publick faith is broke." congress seized on this remark to resolve that the embarkation should be suspended until an "explicit ratification of the convention of saratoga shall be properly ratified by the court of great britain." this resolution, passed january , , was not communicated to burgoyne until february th. if any one should have suffered because of a remark made in a moment of irritation it should have been burgoyne himself; but he was presently allowed to proceed to england, while his troops were retained,--a confession that burgoyne's casual complaint was a mere pretext for further delay. it may be added that the english government behaved to its surrendered soldiers worse than congress. the question of ratifying the saratoga convention was involved in a partisan conflict in parliament, the suffering prisoners in america were forgotten, and they were not released until the peace,--five years after they had marched "with the honours of war," under a pledge of departure conceded by gen. gates in reply to a declaration that unless conceded they would "to a man proceed to any act of desperation sooner than submit." concerning this ugly business there is a significant silence in paine's public writings. he would not have failed to discuss the matter in his _crisis_ had he felt that anything honorable to the american name or cause could be made out of it.* * professor fiske ("am. revolution," i., p. ) has a ferocious attack on congress for breaking faith in this matter, but no doubt he has by this time read, in ford's "writings of washington," (vol. vi.) the letters which bring his attack on the great commander's own haloed head. in his letter to hon. r. h. lee (october , ) paine mentions that he is about leaving the head-quarters near philadelphia for fort mifflin. mr. asa bird gardener, of new york, who has closely studied paine's military career, writes me some account of it. "major-gen. greene was charged with the defence of the delaware, and part of brig.-gen. varnum's brigade was placed in garrison at fort mercer, red bank, and at fort mifflin, mud island. a bloody and unsuccessful assault was made by count donop and , hessians on fort mercer, defended by the st and d reg'ts. r. i. continental inf'y. the entire british fleet was then brought up opposite fort mifflin, and the most furious cannonade, and most desperate but finally unsuccessful defence of the place was made. the entire works were demolished, and most of the garrison killed and wounded. major-gen. greene being anxious for the garrison and desirous of knowing its ability to resist sent mr. paine to ascertain. he accordingly went to fort mercer, and from thence, on nov. ( ) went with col. christopher greene, commanding fort mercer, in an open boat to fort mifflin, during the cannonade, and were there when the enemy opened with two-gun batteries and a mortar battery. this _very_ gallant act shows what a fearless man mr. paine was, and entitles him to the same credit for service in the revolution as any continental could claim." { } the succession of mistakes, surprises, panics, which occasioned the defeats before philadelphia and ended in the occupation of that city by the british general, seriously affected the reputation of washington. though paine believed that washington's generalship had been at fault (as washington himself probably did*), he could utter nothing that might injure the great cause. he mistrusted the singleness of purpose of washington's opponents, and knew that the commander-in-chief was as devoted as himself to the american cause, and would never surrender it whatever should befall. while, therefore, the intrigues were going on at yorktown, pennsylvania, whither congress had retreated, and washington with his ill-fed and ill-clad army were suffering at valley forge, paine was writing his fifth _crisis_, which had the most happy effect. it was dated at lancaster, march , . before that time (february th) general gates had made his peace with washington, and the intrigue was breaking up, but gloom and dissatisfaction remained. the contrast between the luxurious "tories" surrounding howe in philadelphia, and washington's wretched five thousand at valley forge, was demoralizing the country. the first part of this _crisis_, addressed "to general sir william howe," pointed wrangling patriots to the common enemy; the second, addressed "to the inhabitants of america," sounded a note of courage, and gave good reasons for it. never was aid more artistic than that paine's pen now gave washington. the allusions to him are incidental, there is no accent of advocacy. while mentioning "the unabated fortitude of a washington," he lays a laurel on the brow of gates, on that of herkimer, and even on the defeated. while belittling all that howe had gained, telling him that in reaching philadelphia, he "mistook a trap for a conquest," he reunites washington and gates, in the public mind, by showing the manoeuvres of the one near philadelphia part of the other's victory at saratoga. it is easy for modern eulogists of washington to see this, but when paine said it,--apparently aiming only to humiliate howe,--the sentence was a sunbeam parting a black cloud. coming from a member of greene's staff, from an author whose daring at fort mifflin had made him doubly a hero; from the military correspondent of the pennsylvania council, and the secretary of the congressional committee of foreign affairs,--paine's optimistic view of the situation had immense effect. he hints his official knowledge that britain's "reduced strength and exhausted coffers in a three years' war with america hath given a powerful superiority to france and spain," and advises americans to leave wrangling to the enemy. "we never had so small an army to fight against, nor so fair an opportunity of final success as _now_." * see his letter to the president of congress. ford's, "writings of washington," vol. vi., p. . this fifth _crisis_ was written mainly at lancaster, pa., at the house of william henry, jr., where he several times found shelter while dividing his time between washington's head-quarters and york.* every number of the _crisis_ was thus written with full information from both the military and political leaders. this _crisis_ was finished and printed at york, and there paine begins no. vi. the "stone house on the banks of the cadorus," at york, is still pointed out by a trustworthy tradition as that to which he bore the chest of congressional papers with which he had fled to trenton, when howe entered philadelphia.** it is a pleasant abode in a picturesque country, and no doubt paine would have been glad to remain there in repose. but whoever slept on his watch during the revolution paine did not. the fifth _crisis_ printed, he goes to forward the crisis he will publish next. in april he is again at lancaster, and on the th writes thence to his friend henry laurens, president of congress.*** * this i learn by a note from mr. henry's descendant, john w. jordan. at this time paine laid before henry his scheme for steam-navigation. ** the house is marked "b. by j. b. cookis in the year ." it is probable that congress deemed it prudent to keep important documents a little way from the edifice in the centre of the town where it met, a building which no longer stands. *** i am indebted to mr. simon gratz, of philadelphia, for this and several other letters of paine to laurens. "lancaster, april th, . sir,--i take the liberty of mentioning an affair to you which i think deserves the attention of congress. the persons who came from philadelphia some time ago with, or in company with, a flag from the enemy, and were taken up and committed to lancaster jail for attempting to put off counterfeit contl. money, were yesterday brought to tryal and are likely to escape by means of an artful and partial construction of an act of this state for punishing such offences. the act makes it felony to counterfeit the money _emitted_ by congress, or to circulate such counterfeits knowing them to be so. the offenders' council explained the word 'emitted' to have only a retrospect meaning by supplying the idea of '_which have been_' 'emitted by congress.' therefore say they the act cannot be applied to any money emitted after the date of the act. i believe the words 'emitted by congress' means only, and should be understood, to distinguish continental money from other money, and not one time from another time. it has, as i conceive, no referrence to any particular time, but only to the particular authority which distinguishes money so emitted from money emitted by the state. it is meant only as a discription of the money, and not of the time of striking it, but includes the idea of all time as inseparable from the continuance of the authority of congress. but be this as it may; the offence is continental and the consequences of the same extent. i can have no idea of any particular state pardoning an offence against all, or even their letting an offender slip legally who is accountable to all and every state alike for his crime. the place where he commits it is the least circumstance of it. it is a mere accident and has nothing or very little to do with the crime itself. i write this hoping the information will point out the necessity of the congress supporting their emissions by claiming every offender in this line where the present deficiency of the law or the partial interpretation of it operates to the injustice and injury of the whole continent. "i beg leave to trouble you with another hint. congress i learn has something to propose thro' the commissrs. on the cartel respecting the admission and stability of the continental currency. as forgery is a sin against all men alike, and reprobated by all civil nations, query, would it not be right to require of general howe the persons of smithers and others in philadelphia suspected of this crime; and if he, or any other commander, continues to conceal or protect them in such practices, that, in such case, the congress will consider the crime as the act of the commander-in-chief. howe affects not to know the congress--he ought to be made to know them; and the apprehension of personal consequences may have some effect on his conduct. i am, dear sir, "your obt. and humble servt., "t. paine. "since writing the foregoing the prisoners have had their tryal, the one is acquitted and the other convicted only of a fraud; for as the law now stands, or rather as it is explained, the counterfeiting--or circulating counterfeits--is only a fraud. i do not believe it was the intention of the act to make it so, and i think it misapplied lenity in the court to suffer such an explanation, because it has a tendency to invite and encourage a species of treason, the most prejudicial to us of any or all the other kinds. i am aware how very difficult it is to make a law so very perfect at first as not to be subject to false or perplexed conclusions. there never was but one act (said a member of the house of commons) which a man might not creep out of, _i. e._ the act which obliges a man to be buried in woollen. t. p." the active author and secretary had remained in philadelphia two days after howe had crossed the schuylkill, namely, until september st. the events of that time, and of the winter, are related in a letter to franklin, in paris, which is of too much historical importance for any part of it to be omitted. it is dated yorktown, may , . "your favor of oct th did not come to me till march. i was at camp when capt folger, arrived with the blank packet the private letters were, i believe, all safe. mr. laurens forwarded yours to york town where i afterwards recd. it. "the last winter has been rather barren of military events, but for your amusement i send you a little history how i have passed away part of the time. "the th of sepr. last i was preparing dispatches for you when the report of cannon at brandywine interrupted my proceeding. the event of that day you have doubtless been informed of, which, excepting the enemy keeping the ground, may be deemed a drawn battle. genl. washington collected his army at chester, and the enemy's not moving towards him next day must be attributed to the disability they sustained and the burthen of their wounded. on the th of the same month, the two armies were drawn up in order of battle near the white horse on the lancaster road, when a most violent and incessant storm of rain prevented an action. our army sustained a heavy loss in their ammunition, the cartouch boxes, especially as they were not of the most seasoned leather, being no proof agst. the almost incredible fury of the weather, which obliged genl. washn. to draw his army up into the country till those injuries could be repaired, and a new supply of ammunition procured. the enemy in the mean time kept on the west side of schuylkill. on fryday the th about one in the morning the first alarm of their crossing was given, and the confusion, as you may suppose, was very great. it was a beautiful still moonlight morning and the streets as full of men women and children as on a market day. on the eveng. before i was fully persuaded that unless something was done the city would be lost; and under that anxiety i went to col. bayard, speaker of the house of assembly, and represented, as i very particularly knew it, the situation we were in, and the probability of saving the city if proper efforts were made for that purpose. i reasoned thus--genl. washn. was about miles up the schuylkill with an army properly collected waiting for ammunition, besides which, a reinforcement of men were marching from the north river to join him; and if only an appearance of defence be made in the city by throwing up works at the heads of streets, it will make the enemy very suspicious how they throw themselves between the city and genl. washington, and between two rivers, which must have been the case; for notwithstanding the knowledge which military gentlemen are supposed to have, i observe they move exceedingly cautiously on new ground, are exceedingly suspicious of villages and towns, and more perplexed at seemingly little things which they cannot clearly understand than at great ones which they are fully acquainted with. and i think it very probable that genl. howe would have mistaken our necessity for a deep laid scheme and not have ventured himself in the middle of it but admitting that he had, he must either have brought his whole army down, or a part of it. if the whole. gen. w. would have followed him, perhaps the same day, in two or three days at most, and our assistance in the city would have been material. if only a part of it, we should have been a match for them, and gen. w. superior to those which remained above. the chief thing was, whether the cityzens would turn out to defend the city. my proposal to cols. bayard and bradford was to call them together the next morning, make them fully acquainted with the situation and the means and prospect of preserving themselves, and that the city had better voluntarily assess itself , for its defence than suffer an enemy to come into it. cols. bayard and bradford were in my opinion, and as genl. mifflin was then in town, i next went to him, acquainted him with our design, and mentioned likewise that if two or three thousand men could be mustered up whether we might depend on him to command them, for without some one to lead, nothing could be done. he declined that part, not being then very well, but promised what assistance he could.--a few hours after this the alarm happened. i went directly to genl. mifflin but he had sett off, and nothing was done. i cannot help being of opinion that the city might have been saved, but perhaps it is better otherwise. "i staid in the city till sunday [sep. st], having sent my chest and everything belonging to the foreign committee to trenton in a shallop. the enemy did not cross the river till the wednesday following. hearing on the sunday that genl. washn. had moved to swederford i set off for that place but learning on the road that it was a mistake and that he was six or seven miles above that place, i crossed over to south-field and the next morning to trenton, to see after my chest on the wednesday morning i intended returning to philadelphia, but was informed at bristol of the enemy's crossing the schuylkill. at this place i met col. kirkbride of pennsburg manor, who invited me home with him. on fryday the th a party of the enemy about took possession of the city, and the same day an account arrived that col. brown had taken of the enemy at the old french lines at ticonderoga and destroyed all their water craft, being about boats of different kinds. "on the th sept i sett off for camp without well knowing where to find it, every day occasioning some movement i kept pretty high up the country, and being unwilling to ask questions, not knowing what company i might be in, i was three days before i fell in with it the army had moved about three miles lower down that morning. the next day they made a movement about the same distance, to the mile stone on the skippach road--head quarters at john wince's. on the d octr. in the morning they began to fortify the camp, as a deception; and about at night marched for german town. the number of continental troops was between and , besides militia, the rest remaining as guards for the security of camp. genl. greene, whose quarters i was at, desired me to remain there till morning. i set off for german town about next morning. the skirmishing with the pickets began soon after. i met no person for several miles riding, which i concluded to be a good sign; after this i met a man on horseback who told me he was going to hasten on a supply of ammunition, that the enemy were broken and retreating fast, which was true. i saw several country people with arms in their hands running cross a field towards german town, within about five or six miles, at which i met several of the wounded on waggons, horseback, and on foot. i passed genl. nash on a litter made of poles, but did not know him. i felt unwilling to ask questions lest the information should not be agreeable, and kept on. about two miles after this i passed a promiscuous crowd of wounded and otherwise who were halted at a house to refresh. col: biddle d.q.n.g. was among them, who called after me, that if i went farther on that road i should be taken, for that the firing which i heard ahead was the enemy's. i never could, and cannot now learn, and i believe no man can inform truly the cause of that day's miscarriage. "the retreat was as extraordinary. nobody hurried themselves. every one marched his own pace. the enemy kept a civil distance behind, sending every now and then a shot after us, and receiving the same from us. that part of the army which i was with collected and formed on the hill on the side of the road near white marsh church; the enemy came within three quarters of a mile and halted. the orders on retreat were to assemble that night on the back of perki-ominy creek, about miles above camp, which had orders to move. the army had marched the preceding night miles and having full to march back were exceedingly fatigued. they appeared to me to be only sensible of a disappointment, not a defeat, and to be more displeased at their retreating from german town, than anxious to get to their rendezvous. i was so lucky that night to get to a little house about miles wide of perkiominy, towards which place in the morning i heard a considerable firing, which distressed me exceedingly, knowing that our army was much harassed and not collected. however, i soon relieved myself by going to see. they were discharging their pieces, wch. tho' necessary, prevented several parties going till next day. i breakfasted next morning at genl. w. quarters, who was at the same loss with every other to account for the accidents of the day. i remember his expressing his surprise, by saying, that at the time he supposed every thing secure, and was about giving orders for the army to proceed down to philadelphia; that he most unexpectedly saw a part (i think of the artillery) hastily retreating. this partial retreat was, i believe, misunderstood, and soon followed by others. the fog was frequently very thick, the troops young and unused to breaking and rallying, and our men rendered suspicious to each other, many of them being in red. a new army once disordered is difficult to manage, the attempt dangerous. to this may be added a prudence in not putting matters to too hazardous a tryal the first time. men must be taught regular fighting by practice and degrees, and tho' the expedition failed, it had this good effect--that they seemed to feel themselves more important after it than before, as it was the first general attack they had ever made. "i have not related the affair at mr chew's house german town, as i was not there, but have seen it since. it certainly afforded the enemy time to rally--yet the matter was difficult. to have pressed on and left men in ye rear, might by a change of circumstances been ruinous. to attack them was loss of time, as the house is a strong stone building, proof against any pounder. genl. washington sent a flag, thinking it would procure their surrender and expedite his march to philadelphia; it was refused, and circumstances changed almost directly after. "i staid in camp two days after the germantown action, and lest any ill impression should get among the garrisons at mud island and red bank, and the vessels and gallies stationed there, i crossed over to the jersies at trenton and went down to those places. i laid the first night on board the champion continental galley, who was stationed off the mouth of schuylkill. the enemy threw up a two gun battery on the point of the river's mouth opposite the pest house. the next morning was a thick fog, and as soon as it cleared away, and we became visible to each other, they opened on the galley, who returned the fire. the commodore made a signal to bring the galley under the jersey shore, as she was not a match for the battery, nor the battery a sufficient object for the galley. one shot went thro' the fore sail, wch. was all. at noon i went with col. [christopher] greene, who commanded at red bank, over to fort mifflin (mud island). the enemy opened that day two-gun batteries, and a mortar battery, on the fort. they threw about shells into it that afternoon, without doing any damage; the ground being damp and spongy, not above five or six burst; not a man was killed or wounded. i came away in the evening, laid on board the galley, and the next day came to col. kirkbride's [borden-town n. j.]; staid a few days, and came again to camp. an expedition was on foot the evening i got there in which i went as aid de camp to genl. greene, having a volunteer commission for that purpose. the occasion was--a party of the enemy, about , lay over the schuylkill at grey's ferry. genl. mcdougall with his division was sent to attack them; and sullivan & greene with their divisions were to favor the enterprise by a feint on the city, down the german-town road. they set off about nine at night, and halted at day break, between german town and the city, the advanced party at the three miles run. as i knew the ground i went with two light horse to discover the enemy's picket, but the dress of the light horse being white made them, i thought, too visible, as it was then twilight; on which i left them with my horse, and went on foot, till i distinctly saw the picket at mr. dickerson's place,--which is the nearest i have been to philadelphia since sepr., except once at coopers ferry, as i went to the forts. genl. sullivan was at dr. redman's house, and mcdougall's beginning the attack was to be the signal for moving down to the city. but the enemy either on the approach of mcdougall, or on information of it, called in their party, and the expedition was frustrated. "a cannonade, by far the most furious i ever heard, began down the river, soon after daylight, the first gun of which we supposed to be the signal; but was soon undeceived, there being no small arms. after waiting two hours beyond the time, we marched back, the cannon was then less frequent; but on the road between german town and white marsh we were stuned with a report as loud as a peal from a hundred cannon at once; and turning round i saw a thick smoke rising like a pillar, and spreading from the top like a tree. this was the blowing up of the augusta. i did not hear the explosion of the berlin. "after this i returned to col. kirkbride's where i staid about a fortnight, and set off again to camp. the day after i got there genls. greene, wayne, and cadwallader, with a party of light horse, were ordered on a reconnoitering party towards the forts. we were out four days and nights without meeting with any thing material. an east indiaman, whom the enemy had cut down so as to draw but little water, came up, without guns, while we were on foot on carpenter's island, going to province island. her guns were brought up in the evening in a flat, she got in the rear of the fort, where few or no guns could bear upon her, and the next morning, played on it incessantly. the night following the fort was evacuated. the obstruction the enemy met with from those forts, and the _chevaux de frise_ was extraordinary, and had it not been that the western channel, deepened by the current, being somewhat obstructed by the _chevaux de frise_ in the main river, which enabled them to bring up the light indiaman battery, it is a doubt whether they would have succeeded at last. by that assistance they reduced the fort, and got sufficient command of the river to move some of the late sunk _chevaux de frise_. soon after this the fort on red bank, (which had bravely repulsed the enemy a little time before) was avacuated, the gallies ordered up to bristol, and the capts. of such other armed vessels as thought they could not pass on the eastward side of wind mill island, very precipitately set them on fire. as i judged from this event that the enemy would winter in philadelphia, i began to think of preparing for york town, which however i was willing to delay, hoping that the ice would afford opportunity for new manoeuvres. but the season passed very barrenly away. i staid at col. kirkbride's till the latter end of janay. commodore haslewood, who commanded the remains of the fleet at trenton, acquainted me with a scheme of his for burning the enemy's shipping, which was by sending a charged boat across the river from cooper's ferry, by means of a rocket fixt in its stern. considering the width of the river, the tide, and the variety of accidents that might change its direction, i thought the project trifling and insufficient; and proposed to him, that if he would get a boat properly choyed, and take a batteau in tow, sufficient to bring three or four persons off, that i would make one with him and two other persons who might be relied on to go down on that business. one of the company, capn. blewer of philadelphia, seconded the proposal, but the commodore, and, what i was more surprized at, col. bradford, declined it. the burning of part of the delaware fleet, the precipitate retreat of the rest, the little service rendered by them and the great expence they were at, make the only national blot in the proceedings of the last campaign. i felt a strong anxiety for them to recover their credit, wch., among others, was one motive for my proposal. after this i came to camp, and from thence to york town, and published the _crisis_ no. , to genl. howe. i have began no. , which i intend to address to ld. north. "i was not at camp when genl. howe marched out on the th of deer, towards white marsh. it was a most contemptible affair, the threatenings and seeming fury he sate out with, and haste and terror the army retreated with, make it laughable. i have seen several persons from philadelphia who assure me that their coming back was a mere uproar, and plainly indicated their apprehensions of a pursuit. genl. howe, in his letter to ld. go. germain, dated dec. th, represented genl. washington's camp as a strongly fortified place. there was not, sir, a work thrown up in it till genl. howe marched out, and then only here and there a breast work. it was a temporary station. besides which, our men begin to think works in the field of little use. "genl. washington keeps his station at the valley forge. i was there when the army first began to build huts; they appeared to me like a family of beavers; every one busy; some carrying logs, others mud, and the rest fastening them together. the whole was raised in a few days, and is a curious collection of buildings in the true rustic order. "as to politics, i think we are now safely landed. the apprehension which britain must be under from her neighbours must effectually prevent her sending reinforcements, could she procure them. she dare not, i think, in the present situation of affairs trust her troops so far from home. "no commissrs. are yet arrived. i think fighting is nearly over, for britain, mad, wicked, and foolish, has done her utmost. the only part for her now to act is frugality, and the only way for her to get out of debt is to lessen her government expenses. two millions a year is a sufficient allowance, and as much as she ought to expend exclusive of the interest of her debt. the affairs of england are approaching either to ruin or redemption. if the latter, she may bless the resistance of america. "for my own part, i thought it very hard to have the country set on fire about my ears almost the moment i got into it; and among other pleasures i feel in having uniformly done my duty, i feel that of not having discredited your friendship and patronage. "i live in hopes of seeing and advising with you respecting the history of the american revolution, as soon as a turn of affairs make it safe for me to take a passage to europe. please to accept my thanks for the pamphlets, which mr. temple franklin informs me he has sent. they are not yet come to hand. mr. & mrs. bache are at mainheim, near lancaster; i heard they were well a few days ago. i laid two nights at mr. duffield's, in the winter. miss nancy clifton was there, who said the enemy had destroyed or sold a great quantity of your furniture. mr. duffield has since been taken by them and carried into the city, but is now at his own house. i just now hear they have burnt col. kirk-bride's, mr. borden's, and some other houses at borden town. governor johnstone (house of commons) has wrote to mr. robt. morriss informing him of commissioners coming from england. the letter is printed in the newspapers without signature, and is dated febry. th, by which you will know it.* * the arrival of the commissioners caused paine to address his _crisis vi_. to them instead of to lord north, as he tells franklin is his intention. the above letter was no doubt written in the old stone house at york. "please, sir, to accept this, rough and incorrect as it is, as i have [not] time to copy it fair, which was my design when i began it; besides which, paper is most exceedingly scarce. "i am, dear sir, your obliged and affectionate humble servt, "t. paine. "the honble. benj. franklin, esqr." paine's prophecy at the close of his fifth _crisis_ (march, ), that england, reduced by her war with america, was in peril from france, was speedily confirmed. the treaty between france and america (february th) was followed by a war-cloud in europe, which made the americans sanguine that their own struggle was approaching an end. it was generally expected that philadelphia would be evacuated. on this subject paine wrote the following letter to washington: "york town, june th, .--sir,--as a general opinion prevails that the enemy will quit philadelphia, i take the liberty of transmitting you my reasons why it is probable they will not. in your difficult and distinguished situation every hint may be useful. "i put the immediate cause of their evacuation, to be a declaration of war in europe made by them or against them: in which case, their army would be wanted for other service, and likewise because their present situation would be too unsafe, being subject to be blocked up by france and attacked by you and her jointly. "britain will avoid a war with france if she can; which according to my arrangement of politics she may easily do--she must see the necessity of acknowledging, sometime or other, the independance of america; if she is wise enough to make that acknowledgment now, she of consequence admits the right of france to the quiet enjoyment of her treaty, and therefore no war can take place upon the ground of having concluded a treaty with revolted british subjects. "this being admitted, their apprehension of being doubly attacked, or of being wanted elsewhere, cease of consequence; and they will then endeavor to hold all they can, that they may have something to restore, in lieu of something else which they will demand; as i know of no instance where conquered plans were surrendered up prior to, but only in consequence of a treaty of peace. "you will observe, sir, that my reasoning is founded on the supposition of their being reasonable beings, which if they are not, then they are not within the compass of my system, i am, sir, with every wish for your happiness, your affectionate and obt. humble servant, "thos. paine. "his excellency, genl. washington, valley forge." shortly after this letter to washington tidings came that a french fleet, under count d'estaing, had appeared on the coast, and was about to blockade the delaware. the british apparently in panic, really by order from england, left philadelphia, june th. this seeming flight was a great encouragement. congress was soon comfortably seated in philadelphia, where paine had the pleasure of addressing his next _crisis_ to the british peace commissioners. in philadelphia congress was still surrounded by a hostile population; paine had still to plead that there should be no peace without republican independence. even so late as november , , the french minister (gerard) writes to his government: "scarcely one quarter of the ordinary inhabitants of philadelphia now here favour the cause (of independence). commercial and family ties, together with an aversion to popular government, seem to account for this. the same feeling exists in new york and boston, which is not the case in the rural districts." while franklin was offered in paris the bribe of a peerage, and the like for several revolutionary leaders, similar efforts were made in america to subdue the "rebellion" by craft. for that purpose had come the earl of carlisle, sir george johnstone, and william eden. johnstone had retired from the commission in disgust. referring to the invitation of the peace commissioners, that america should join them against france, he says: "unless you were capable of such conduct yourselves, you would never have supposed such a character in us." he reminds the commissioners, who had threatened that america must be laid waste so as to be useless to france, that increased wants of america must make her a more valuable purchaser in france. paine mentions sir h. clinton with some significance, and suspects the truth that he had brought orders, received from england, overruling an intention of the peace envoys to burn philadelphia if their terms were rejected. he says he has written a _crisis_ for the english people because there was a convenient conveyance; "for the commissioners--_poor commissioners_!--having proclaimed that '_yet forty days and nineveh shall be overthrown?_ have waited out the date, and, discontented with their god, are returning to their gourd. and all the harm i wish them is that it may not wither about their ears, and that they may not make their exit in the belly of a whale." chapter ix. french aid, and the paine-deane controversy. in bell's addenda to "common sense," which contained paine's address to the quakers (also letters by others), appeared a little poem which i believe his, and the expression of his creed. "the american patriot's prayer. "parent of all, omnipotent in heaven, and earth below, through all creation's bounds unspent, whose streams of goodness flow, "teach me to know from whence i rose, and unto what designed; no private aims let me propose, since link'd with human kind. "but chief to hear my country's voice, may all my thoughts incline; 't is reason's law, 't is virtue's choice, 't is nature's call and thine. "me from fair freedom's sacred cause let nothing e'er divide; grandeur, nor gold, nor vain applause, nor friendship false misguide. "let me not faction's partial hate pursue to this land's woe; nor grasp the thunder of the state to wound a private foe. "if, for the right to wish the wrong my country shall combine, single to serve th' erroneous throng, spight of themselves, be mine." every sacrifice contemplated in this self-dedication had to be made. paine had held back nothing from the cause. he gave america the copyrights of his eighteen pamphlets. while they were selling by thousands, at two or three shillings each, he had to apologize to a friend for not sending his boots, on the ground that he must borrow the money to pay for them! he had given up the magazine so suited to his literary and scientific tastes, had dismissed his lucrative school in philadelphia, taken a musket on his quaker shoulders, shared the privations of the retreat to the delaware, braved bullets at trenton and bombs at fort mifflin. but now he was to give up more. he was "single to serve th' erroneous throng, spight of themselves," and thereby lose applause and friendship. an ex-congressman, sent to procure aid in france, having, as paine believed, attempted a fraud on the scanty funds of this country, he published his reasons for so believing. in doing so he alarmed the french ambassador in america, and incurred the hostility of a large party in congress; the result being his resignation of the secretaryship of its foreign affairs committee. it has been traditionally asserted that, in this controversy, paine violated his oath of office. such is not the fact. his official oath, which was prepared for paine himself--the first secretary of a new committee,--was framed so as to leave him large freedom as a public writer. "that the said secretary, previous to his entering on his office, take an oath, to be administered by the president, well and faithfully to execute the trust reposed in him, according to his best skill and judgment; and to disclose no matter, the knowledge of which shall be acquired in consequence of his office, _that he shall be directed to keep secret._" not only was there no such direction of secrecy in this case, but congress did not know the facts revealed by paine. compelled by a complaint of the french minister to disown paine's publication, congress refused to vote that it was "an abuse of office," or to discharge him. the facts should be judged on their merits, and without prejudice. i have searched and sifted many manuscripts in european and american archives to get at the truth of this strange chapter in our revolutionary history, concerning which there is even yet an unsettled controversy.* * "beaumarchais et son temps," par m. de lomenie, paris, . "histoire de la participation de la france a l'etablissement des etats unis d'amerique." par m. doniol, paris. "beaumarchais and 'the lost million,'" by charles j. stille (privately printed in philadelphia). "new materials for the history of the american revolution," by john durand, new york, . magazine of american history% vol. ii., p. . "life and times of benjamin franklin," by james parton, new york, . "papers in relation to the case of silas deane," philadelphia, printed for the seventy- six society, . the reader who desires to explore the subject will find an ample literature concerning it, but with confusing omissions, partly due to a neglect of paine's papers. the suggestion of french aid to america was first made in may, , by dubourg, and a scheme was submitted by beaumarchais to the king. this was first brought to light in november, , in the _magazine of american history_, where it is said: "it is without date, but must have been written after the arrival of the american commissioners in paris." this is an error. a letter of december , , from beaumarchais proves that the undated one had been answered. moreover, on june , , a month before deane had reached paris, and six months before franklin's arrival, the million for america had been paid to beaumarchais and receipted. it was deane's ruin that he appeared as if taking credit for, and bringing within the scope of his negotiations, money paid before his arrival. it was the ruin of beaumarchais that he deceived deane about that million. in france had suffered by her struggle with england humiliations and territorial losses far heavier than those suffered by her last war with germany. with the revolt of the english colonies in america the hour of french revenge struck. louis xvi. did not care much about it, but his minister vergennes did. inspired by him, beaumarchais, adventurer and playwright, consulted arthur lee, secret agent of congress in london, and it was arranged that beaumarchais should write a series of letters to the king, to be previously revised by vergennes. the letters are such as might be expected from the pen that wrote "the marriage of figaro." he paints before the king the scene of france driven out of america and india; he describes america as advancing to engage the conqueror of france with a force which a little help would make sufficient to render england helpless beside her european foes--france and spain. learning through vergennes that the king was mindful of his treaty with england, beau-marchais made a proposal that the aid should be rendered as if by a commercial house, without knowledge of the government this, the most important document of the case, suppressed until , was unknown to any of the writers who have discussed this question, except durand and stille\ the latter alone having recognized its bearing on the question of beaumarchais' good faith. beau-marchais tells the king that his "succor" is not to end the war in america, but "to continue and feed it to the great damage of the english"; that "to sacrifice a million to put england to the expense of a hundred millions, is exactly the same as if you advance a million to gain ninety-nine." half of the million (livres) is to be sent to america in gold, and half in powder. so far from this aid being gratuitous, the powder is to be taken from french magazines at "four to six sols per pound," and sent to america "on the basis of twenty sols per pound." "the constant view of the affair in which the mass of congress ought to be kept is the certainty that your majesty is not willing to enter in any way into the affair, but that a company is very generously about to turn over a certain sum to the prudent management of a faithful agent to give successive aid to the americans by the shortest and the surest means of return in tobacco." how much of this scheme actually reached the king, and was approved by him, is doubtful. he still hesitated, and another appeal was made (february , ) embodying one from arthur lee, who says: "we offer to france, in return for her secret assistance, a secret treaty of commerce, by which she will secure for a certain number of years after peace is declared all the advantages with which we have enriched england for the past century, with, additionally, a guarantee of her possessions according to our forces." nothing is said by arthur lee about other payments. the queen had now become interested in the gallant americans, and the king was brought over to the scheme in april. on may , , vergennes submits to the king the order for a million livres which he is to sign; also a letter, to be written by the hand of the minister's son, aged fifteen, to beaumarchais, who, he says, will employ m. montandoin (the name was really montieu) to transmit to the americans "such funds as your majesty chooses to appropriate for their benefit." there are various indications that the pecuniary advantages, in the way of "sols" and tobacco, were not set before the king, and that he yielded to considerations of state policy. after receiving the million (june th) beaumarchais wrote to arthur lee in london (june , ): "the difficulties i have found in my negotiations with the minister have _determined me to form a company_ which will enable the munitions and powder to be transmitted sooner to _your friend_ on condition of his returning tobacco to cape francis." to arthur lee, whom he had met at the table of lord mayor john wilkes, beaumarchais had emphasized the "generous" side of his scheme. tobacco was indeed to be sent, chiefly to give a commercial color to the transaction for the king's concealment, but there appeared no reason to do more with lee, who had no power of contract, than impress him with the magnanimity and friendship of the french government. this lee was to report to the secret committee of congress, which would thus be prepared to agree to any arrangement of beaumarchais' agent, without any suspicion that it might be called on to pay twenty sols a pound for powder that had cost from four to six. lee did report it, sending a special messenger (story) to announce to congress the glad tidings of french aid, and much too gushingly its quasi-gratuitous character. a month later silas deane, belated since march th by wind and wave, reached paris, and about july , , by advice of vergennes, had his first interview with beaumarchais. had beaumarchais known that an agent, empowered by congress to purchase munitions, was on his way to france, he would have had nothing to do with lee; now he could only repudiate him, and persuade deane to disregard him. arthur lee informed deane that beaumarchais had told him that he had received two hundred thousand pounds sterling of the french administration for the use of congress, but deane believed beaumarchais, who "constantly and positively denied having said any such thing." it had been better for deane if he had believed lee.* it turned out in the end that beaumarchais had received the sum lee named, and the french government--more anxious for treaty concessions from america than for beaumarchais' pocket--assured the american commissioners that the million was a royal gift. * m. doniol and mr. durand are entirely mistaken in supposing that lee was "substantially a traitor." that he wrote to lord shelburne that "if england wanted to prevent closer ties between france and the united states she must not delay," proves indeed the reverse. he wanted recognition of the independence of his country, and peace, and was as willing to get it from england as from france. he was no doubt well aware that french subsidies were meant, as beaumarchais reminded the king, to continue the war in america, not to end it. arthur lee had his faults, but lack of patriotism was not among them. this claim to generosity, however, or rather the source of it, was a secret of the negotiation. in october, , the commissioners wrote to congress a letter which, being intercepted, reached that body only in duplicate, march, , saying they had received assurances "that no repayment will ever be required from us for what has already been given us either in money or military stores." one of these commissioners was silas deane himself (the others franklin and lee). but meanwhile beaumarchais had claimed of congress, by an agent (de francy) sent to america, payment of his bill, which included the million which his government declared had been a gift. this complication caused congress to recall deane for explanations. deane arrived in america in july, . there were suspicious circumstances around him. he had left his papers in paris; he had borrowed money of beaumarchais for personal expenses, and the despatch he had signed in october, saying the million was a gift, had been intercepted, other papers in the same package having duly arrived. thus appearances were against deane. the following statement, in paine's handwriting, was no doubt prepared for submission to congress, and probably was read during one of its secret discussions of the matter. it is headed "explanatory circumstances." " st the lost dispatches are dated oct. th and oct. th. they were sent by a private hand--that is, they were not sent by the post. capt. folger had the charge of them. they were all under one cover containing five separate packets; three of the packets were on commercial matters only--one of these was to mr. r[obert] morris, chairman of the commercial committee, one to mr. hancock (private concerns), another to barnaby deane, s. deane's brother. of the other two packets, one of them was to the secret committee, then stiled the committee for foreign affairs, the other was to richard h. lee--these two last packets had nothing in them but blank white french paper. " d. in sept'r preceding the date of the dispatches mr. b[eau-marchais] sent mr. francis [de francy] to congress to press payment to the amount mentioned in the official letter of oct. . mr. f[rancy] brought a letter signed only by s. deane--the capt of the vessel (landais) brought another letter from deane; both of these letters were to enforce mr. b[eaumarchais'] demand. mr. f[rancy] arrived with his letters and demand. the official despatches (if i may so say) arrived blank. congress therefore had no authoritative information to act by. about this time mr. d[eane] was recalled and arrived in america in count d'estaing's fleet. he gave out that he had left his accounts in france. "with the treaty of alliance come over the duplicates of the lost despatches. they come into my office not having been seen by congress; and as they contain an injunction not to be conceded by [to?] congress, i kept them secret in the office because at that time the foreign committee were dispersed and new members not appointed. "on the th of dec. , mr. d[eane] published an inflamatory piece against congress. as i saw it had an exceeding ill effect out of doors i made some remarks upon it--with a view of preventing people running mad. this piece was replied to by a piece under the signature of plain truth--in which it was stated, that mr. d[eane] though a stranger in france and to the language, and without money, had by himself procured , stand of arms, , suits of cloathing, and more than pieces of brass cannon. i replied that these supplies were in a train of execution before he was sent to france. that mr. deane's private letters and his official despatches jointly with the other two commissioners contradicted each other. "at this time i found deane had made a large party in congress--and that a motion had been made but not decided upon for dismissing me from the foreign office, with a kind of censure." deane was heard by congress twice (august and , ) but made a bad impression, and a third hearing was refused. in wrath he appealed in the press "to the free and virtuous citizens of america," (december , ) against the injustice of congress. this paine answered in the _pennsylvania packet_ of december , . his motives are told in the following letter addressed to the hon. henry laurens: "philadelphia, dec. th, .--dear sir.--in this morning's paper is a piece addressed to mr. deane, in which your name is mentioned. my intention in relating the circumstances with wch. it is connected is to prevent the enemy drawing any unjust conclusions from an accidental division in the house on matters no ways political you will please to observe that i have been exceedingly careful to preserve the honor of congress in the minds of the people who have been so exceedingly fretted by mr. deane's address--and this will appear the more necessary when i inform you that a proposal has been made for calling a town meeting to demand justice for mr. deane. i have been applied to smoothly and roughly not to publish this piece. mr. deane has likewise been with the printer. i am, &c." { } to paine, who had given his all to the american cause, nothing could appear more natural than that france and her king should do the same with pure disinterestedness. here were lafayette and other frenchmen at washington's side. however, the one thing he was certain of was that deane had no claim to be credited with the french subsidies. had henry laurens been president of congress it would have been easy to act on that body through him; but he had resigned, and the new president, john jay, was a prominent member of the deane party. so paine resolved to defeat what he considered a fraud on the country at whatever cost. in the course of the controversy he wrote (january , ): "if mr. deane or any other gentleman will procure an order from congress to inspect an account in my office, or any of mr. deane's friends in congress will take the trouble of coming themselves, i will give him or them my attendance, and shew them in handwriting which mr. deane is well acquainted with, that the supplies he so pompously plumes himself upon were promised and engaged, and that as a present, before he ever arrived in france; and the part that fell to mr. deane was only to see it done, and how he has performed that service the public are acquainted with." although paine here gave the purport of the commissioners' letter, showing plainly that deane had nothing to do with obtaining the supplies, he is not so certain that they were gratuitous, and adds, in the same letter (january d): "the supplies here alluded to are those which were sent from france in the amphitrite, seine, and mercury, about two years ago. they had at first the appearance of a present, but whether so or on credit the service was a great and a friendly one." to transfer the debt to the french government would secure such a long credit that the american cause would not suffer. perhaps no official notice might have been taken of this, but in another letter (january th) paine wrote: "those who are now her [america's] allies, prefaced that alliance by an early and generous friendship; yet that we might not attribute too much to human or auxiliary aid, so unfortunate were these supplies that only one ship out of three arrived; the mercury and seine fell into the hands of the enemy." it was this last paragraph that constituted paine's indiscretion. unless we can suppose him for once capable of a rôle so machiavellian as the forcing of france's hand, by revealing the connection between the king and the subsidies of beau-marchais, we can only praise him for a too-impulsive and self-forgetting patriotism. it was of course necessary for the french minister (gerard) to complain, and for congress to soothe him by voting the fiction that his most christian majesty "did not preface his alliance with any supplies whatever sent to america." but in order to do this, paine had somehow to be dealt with. a serio-comical performance took place in congress. the members knew perfectly well that paine had documents to prove every word he had printed; but as they did not yet know these documents officially, and were required by their ally's minister to deny paine's statement, they were in great fear that paine, if summoned, might reveal them. as the articles were only signed "common sense," it was necessary that the secretary should acknowledge himself their author, and congress, in dread of discovering its own secrets, contrived that he should be allowed to utter at the bar only one word. congress received m. gerard's complaint on january th, and on the th, to which action thereon had been adjourned, the following memorial from paine. "honorable sirs.--understanding that exceptions have been taken at some parts of my conduct, which exceptions as i am unacquainted with i cannot reply to: i therefore humbly beg leave to submit every part of my conduct public and private, so far as relate to public measures, to the judgment of this honble. house, to be by them approved or censured as they shall judge proper--at the same time reserving to myself that conscious satisfaction of having ever intended well and to the best of my abilities executed those intentions. "the honble. congress in april, , were pleased, not only unsolicited on my part, but wholly unknown to me, to appoint me unanimously secretary to the committee for foreign affairs, which mode of appointment i conceive to be the most honorable that can take place. the salary they were pleased to affix to it was dollars per month. it has remained at the same rate ever since, and is not at this time equal to the most moderate expences i can live at; yet i have never complained, and always conceiving it my duty to bear a share of the inconveniences of the country, have ever cheerfully submitted to them. this being my situation, i am at this time conscious of no error, unless the cheapness of my services, and the generosity with which i have endeavored to do good in other respects, can be imputed to me as a crime, by such individuals as may have acted otherwise. "as my appointment was honorable, therefore whenever it shall appear to congress that i have not fulfilled their expectations, i shall, tho' with concern at any misapprehension that might lead to such an opinion, surrender up the books and papers intrusted to my care. "were my appointment an office of profit it might become me to resign it, but as it is otherwise i conceive that such a step in me might imply a dissatisfaction on account of the smallness of the pay. therefore i think it my duty to wait the orders of this honble. house, at the same time begging leave to assure them that whatever may be their determination respecting me, my disposition to serve in so honorable a cause, and in any character in which i can best do it, will suffer no alteration. i am, with profound respect, your honors' dutiful and obt. hble. servant, "thomas paine." on the same day paine was summoned before congress (sitting always with closed doors), and asked by its president (jay) if he wrote the articles. he replied "yes," and was instantly ordered to withdraw. on the following day paine, having discovered that deane's party were resolved that he should have no opportunity to reveal any fact in congress, submitted a second memorial. "honorable sirs.--from the manner in which i was called before the house yesterday, i have reason to suspect an unfavorable disposition in them towards some parts in my late publications. what the parts are against which they object, or what those objections are, are wholly unknown to me. if any gentleman has presented any memorial to this house which contains any charge against me, or any-ways alludes in a censurable manner to my character or interest, so as to become the ground of any such charge, i request, as a servant under your authority, an attested copy of that charge, and in my present character as a freeman of this country, i demand it. i attended at the bar of this house yesterday as their servant, tho' the warrant did not express my official station, which i conceive it ought to have done, otherwise it could not have been compulsive unless backed by a magistrate. my hopes were that i should be made acquainted with the charge, and admitted to my defence, which i am all times ready to make either in writing or personally. "i cannot in duty to my character as a freeman submit to be censured unheard. i have evidence which i presume will justify me. and i entreat this house to consider how great their reproach will be should it be told that they passed a sentence upon me without hearing me, and that a copy of the charge against me was refused to me; and likewise how much that reproach will be aggravated should i afterwards prove the censure of this house to be a libel, grounded upon a mistake which they refused fully to inquire into. "i make my application to the heart of every gentleman in this house, that, before he decides on a point that may affect my reputation, he will duly consider his own. did i court popular praise i should not send this letter. my wish is that by thus stating my situation to the house, they may not commit an act they cannot justify. "i have obtained fame, honor, and credit in this country. i am proud of these honors. and as they cannot be taken from me by any unjust censure grounded on a concealed charge, therefore it will become my duty afterwards to do justice to myself. i have no favor to ask more than to be candidly and honorably dealt by; and such being my right i ought to have no doubt but this house will proceed accordingly. should congress be disposed to hear me, i have to request that they will give me sufficient time to prepare." it was, of course, a foregone conclusion that the story of what had occurred in france must not be told. m. gerard had identified himself with the interests of beaumarchais, as well as with those of his government, and was using the privileges of the alliance to cover that speculator's demand. paine, therefore, pleaded in vain. indeed, the foregoing memorial seems to have been suppressed, as it is not referred to in the journal of the house for that day (january th). on the day following his resignation was presented in the following letter: "honorable sirs.--finding by the journals of this house, of yesterday, that i am not to be heard, and having in my letter of the same day, prior to that resolution, declared that i could not 'in duty to my character as a freeman submit to be censured unheard,' therefore, consistent with that declaration, and to maintain that right, i think it my duty to resign the office of secretary to the committee for foreign affairs, and i do hereby resign the same. the papers and documents in my charge i shall faithfully deliver up to the committee, either on honor or oath, as they or this house shall direct. "considering myself now no longer a servant of congress, i conceive it convenient that i should declare what have been the motives of my conduct. on the appearance of mr. deane's address to the public of the of dec, in which he said 'the ears of the representatives were shut against him,' the honor and justice of this house were impeached and its reputation sunk to the lowest ebb in the opinion of the people. the expressions of suspicion and degradation which have been uttered in my hearing and are too indecent to be related in this letter, first induced me to set the public right; but so grounded were they, almost without exception, in their ill opinion of this house, that instead of succeeding as i wished in my first address, i fell under the same reproach and was frequently told that i was defending congress in their bad designs. this obliged me to go farther into the matters, and i have now reason to believe that my endeavours have been and will be effectual. "my wish and my intentions in all my late publications were to preserve the public from error and imposition, to support as far as laid in my power the just authority of the representatives of the people, and to cordiallize and cement the union that has so happily taken place between this country and france. "i have betrayed no trust because i have constantly employed that trust to the public good. i have revealed no secrets because i have told nothing that was, or i conceive ought to be a secret. i have convicted mr. deane of error, and in so doing i hope i have done my duty. "it is to the interest of the alliance that the people should know that before america had any agent in europe the 'public-spirited gentlemen' in that quarter of the world were her warm friends. and i hope this honorable house will receive it from me as a farther testimony of my affection to that alliance, and of my attention to the duty of my office, that i mention, that the duplicates of the dispatches of oct. and , , from the commissioners, the originals of which are in the enemy's possession, seem to require on that account a reconsideration. "his excellency, the minister of france, is well acquainted with the liberality of my sentiments, and i have had the pleasure of receiving repeated testimonies of his esteem for me. i am concerned that he should in any instance misconceive me. i beg likewise to have it understood that my appeal to this honorable house for a hearing yesterday was as a matter of right in the character of a freeman, which right i ought to yield up to no power whatever. i return my utmost thanks to the honorable members of this house who endeavored to support me in that right, so sacred to themselves and to their constituents; and i have the pleasure of saying and reflecting that as i came into office an honest man, i go out of it with the same character." this letter also was suppressed, and the same fate was secured by mr. jay for several other letters written by paine to congress. on march , , he quotes a letter of the commissioners of november , , saying that the supplies from france were "the effects of private benevolence." on april st he reminds congress that "they began their hard treatment of me while i was defending their injured and insulted honor, and which i cannot account for on any other ground than supposing that a private unwarrantable connection was formed between mr. deane and certain members of this honorable house." on april d he again addresses the "honorable sirs ": "on inquiring yesterday of mr. thomson, your secretary, i find that no answer is given to any of my letters. i am unable to account for the seeming inattention of congress in collecting information at this particular time, from whatever quarter it may come; and this wonder is the more increased when i recollect that a private offer was made to me, about three months ago, amounting in money to £ a year; yet however polite the proposal might be, or however friendly it might be designed, i thought it my duty to decline it; as it was accompanied with a condition which i conceived had a tendency to prevent the information i have since given, and shall yet give to the country on public affairs. "i have repeatedly wrote to congress respecting mr. deane's dark incendiary conduct, and offered every information in my power. the opportunities i have had of knowing the state of foreign affairs is greater than that of many gentlemen of this house, and i want no other knowledge to declare that i look on mr. deane to be, what mr. carmichael calls him, a rascal." the offer of money came from m. gerard. this clever diplomatist perceived in all paine's letters his genuine love of france, and esteem for the king who had so generously allied himself with the americans in their struggle for independence. since m. gerard's arrival paine had been on friendly terms with him. i have explored the state archives of france for m. gerard's versions of these affairs, and find them more diplomatic than exact. immediately on the appearance of paine's first attack on deane, the minister appears to have visited paine. he reports to vergennes, january th, that he had been at much pains to convince paine of his error in saying that the supplies furnished by beaumarchais had been "promised as a gift"; but he had not retracted, and he (gerard) then thought it necessary to refer what he wrote to congress. "congress, however, did not wait for this to show me its indignation." the journals of congress do not, however, reveal any reference to the matter previous to m. gerard's memorial of january th. in his next letter m. gerard asserts that congress had dismissed paine, whereas paine resigned, and a motion for his dismission was lost. this letter is dated january th. "when i had denounced to congress the assertions of m. payne, i did not conceal from myself the bad effects that might result to a head puffed up by the success of his political writings, and the importance he affected. i foresaw the loss of his office, and feared that, separated from the support which has restrained him, he would seek only to avenge himself with his characteristic impetuosity and impudence. all means of restraining him would be impossible, considering the enthusiasm here for the license of the press, and in the absence of any laws to repress audacity even against foreign powers. the only remedy, my lord, i could imagine to prevent these inconveniences, and even to profit by the circumstances, was to have payne offered a salary in the king's name, in place of that he had lost. he called to thank me, and i stipulated that he should publish nothing on political affairs, nor about congress, without advising with me, and should employ his pen mainly in impressing on the people favorable sentiments towards france and the alliance, of the kind fittest to foster hatred and defiance towards england. he appeared to accept the task with pleasure. i promised him a thousand dollars per annum, to begin from the time of his dismission by congress. he has already begun his functions in declaring in the gazette that the affair of the military effects has no reference to the court and is not a political matter. you know too well the prodigious effects produced by the writings of this famous personage among the people of the states to cause me any fear of your disapproval of my resolution." m. gerard adds that he has also employed dr. cooper, an intimate friend of dr. franklin. on may th he informs vergennes that the paine arrangement did not work. "a piece in a gazette of the third by m. payne, under his usual title of common sense proves his loss of it. in it he declares that he is the only honest man thus far employed in american affairs, and demands that the nation shall give him the title and authority of censor-general, especially to purify and reform congress. this bit of folly shows what he is capable of. he gives me marks of friendship, but that does not contribute to the success of my exhortations." in another despatch of the same date m. gerard writes: "i have had the honor to acquaint you with the project i had formed to engage mr. payne [le sr. payne] to insert in the public papers paragraphs relative to the alliance, calculated to encourage the high idea formed by the people of the king, and its confidence in his friendship; but this writer having tarnished his reputation and being sold to the opposition, i have found another." he goes on to say that he has purchased two eminent gentlemen, who write under the names "honest politician" and "americanus." m. gerard, in his statements concerning his relations with paine, depended on the unfamiliarity of vergennes with the philadelphia journals. in these paine had promptly made known the overtures made to him. "had i been disposed to make money i undoubtedly had many opportunities for it. the single pamphlet 'common sense' would at that time of day have produced a tolerable fortune, had i only taken the same profits from the publication which all writers have ever done; because the sale was the most rapid and extensive of anything that was ever published in this country, or perhaps in any other. instead of which i reduced the price so low, that instead of getting, i stand £ , , out of pocket on mr. bradford's books, exclusive of my time and trouble; and i have acted the same disinterested part by every publication i have made. "at the time the dispute arose respecting mr. deane's affairs, i had a conference with mr. gerard at his own request, and some matters on that subject were freely talked over, which it is here necessary to mention. this was on the d of january. on the evening of the same day, or the next, mr. gerard through the medium of another gentleman made me a very genteel and profitable offer. my answer to the offer was precisely in these words: 'any service i can render to either of the countries in alliance, or to both, i ever have done and shall readily do, and mr. gerard's _esteem_ will be the only compensation i shall desire.'" paine never received a cent of m. gerard's money, but he became convinced that the french government might be compromised by his allusion to its early generosity to america, and on january th wrote that the letter to which he had alluded had not mentioned "the king of france by any name or title nor yet the nation of france." this was all that the french minister could get out of paine, and it was willingly given. the more complaisant "honest politician" and "americanus," however, duly fulfilled the tasks for which they had been employed by the french ambassador. this will be seen by reference to their letters in the _pennsylvania gazette_ of june d. in june and july paine entered on a controversy with "americanus" on the terms upon which america should insist, in any treaty of peace. he intimates his suspicion that "americanus" is a hireling. it should be mentioned that the english archives prove that in paris deane and gerard had long been intimate, and often closeted with vergennes. (see the reports of wentworth and others in stevens' _facsimiles?_) deane and gerard came over together, on one of d'estaing's ships. according to the english information gerard was pecuniarily interested in the supplies sent to america, and if so had private reasons for resisting paine's theory of their gratuitous character. chapter x. a story by gouverneur morris the paine-deane incident had a number of curious sequels, some of which are related in a characteristic letter of gouverneur morris to john randolph, which has not, i believe, hitherto been printed. gouverneur morris had much to do with the whole affair; he was a member of congress during the controversy, and he was the minister in france who, fifteen years later, brought to light the receipt for the king's million livres charged by beaumarchais against this country. "washington, jany. , "it would give me pleasure to communicate the information you ask, but i can only speak from memory respecting matters, some of which were transacted long ago and did not command my special attention. but it is probable that the material facts can be established by documents in the secretary of state's office. "it will, i believe, appear from the correspondence between mr. arthur lee and the secret and commercial committee, that early in our dispute with great britain the french court made through him a tender of military supplies, and employed as their agent for that purpose m. beaumarchais, who, having little property and but slender standing in society, might (if needful) be disavowed, imprisoned, and punished for presuming to use the king's name on such an occasion. in the course of our revolutionary war, large supplies were sent by m. beaumarchais under the name of roderique hortalez and co., a supposed mercantile name. but the operations were impeded by complaints of the british ambassador, lord stormont, which obliged the french court to make frequent denials, protestations, seizure of goods and detention of ships. every step of this kind bound them more strongly to prevent a disclosure of facts. "after the congress returned to philadelphia, m. de francy, agent of m. beaumarchais, applied to congress for payment. this application was supported on the ground of justice by many who were not in the secret, for the congress had then so much good sense as not to trust itself with its own secrets. there happened unluckily at that time a feud between mr. lee and mr. deane. the latter favored (in appearance at least) m. beaumarchais' claim. paine, who was clerk to the secret and commercial committee, took part in the dispute, wrote pieces for the gazettes, and at length, to overwhelm deane and those who defended him with confusion, published a declaration of the facts confidentially communicated to the committee by mr. lee, and signed this declaration as american secretary for foreign affairs.* the french minister, m. gerard, immediately made a formal complaint of that publication, and an equally formal denial of what it contained. the congress was therefore obliged to believe, or at least to act as if they believed, that paine had told a scandalous falsehood. he was in consequence dismissed, which indeed he deserved for his impudence if for nothing else.** * error. paine signed "common sense," and in one instance "thomas paine." ** paine resigned. several motions for his dismissal were lost. "beaumarchais and his agent had already received from the committee tobacco and perhaps other articles of produce on account of his demand; what and how much will of course be found from investigating the files of the treasury. but he wanted and finally obtained a larger and more effectual payment bills were drawn in his favor on dr. franklin, our minister in france, at long sight, for about one hundred thousand pounds sterling. this was done in the persuasion that the doctor would, when they were presented, communicate the fact to comte de vergennes, from whom he would afterwards be obliged to solicit the means of payment. it was hoped that the french court would then interfere and either lay hold of the bills or compel m. beaumarchais to refund the money, so that no real deduction would on that account be afterwards made from the loans or subsidies to us. the death of all who were privy to it has spread an impenetrable veil over what passed on this occasion between m. beaumarchais and his employer, but the bills were regularly paid, and we were thereby deprived in a critical moment of the resources which so large a sum would have supplied. when this happened, m. de la luzerne, then minister of france at philadelphia, expressed himself with so much freedom and so much indignation respecting m. beaumarchais and his claim, that there was reason to believe nothing more would have been heard of it. in that persuasion, perhaps, dr. franklin, when he came to settle our national accounts with m. de vergennes, was less solicitous about a considerable item than he otherwise might have been. he acknowledged as a free gift to the united states the receipt on a certain day of one million livres, for which no evidence was produced. he asked indeed for a voucher to establish the payment, but the count replied that it was immaterial whether we had received the money or not, seeing that we were not called on for repayment. with this reassuring the old gentleman seems to have been satisfied, and the account was settled accordingly. perhaps the facts may have been communicated to him under the seal of secrecy, and if so he showed firmness in that he had shared in the plunder with deane and beaumarchais. * gouverneur morris himself. ** this was the receipt dated june , , on which the king had marked "bon," and was obtained by morris in . "things remained in that state till after the late king of france was dethroned. the minister of the united states at paris' was then directed to enquire what had become of the million livres. the correspondence will of course be found in the office of the secretary of state. it seems that he had the good fortune to obtain copies of m. beaumarchais' receipt for a million, bearing date on the day when the gift was said to have been made, so that no reasonable doubt could exist as to the identity of the sum.' "so much, my dear sir, for what memory can command. you will, i think, find papers containing a more accurate statement in the new york 'evening post,' about the time when mr. rodney's opinion was made public. at least i recollect having seen in that gazette some facts with which i had not been previously acquainted, or which i had forgotten. a gentleman from connecticut, who was on the committee of claims last year, can i believe give you the papers. i remember also to have been told by a respectable young gentleman, son of the late mr. richard henry lee, that important evidence on this subject, secured from his uncle arthur, was in his possession, and i believe it may be obtained from mr. carroll of annapolis, or his son-in-law mr. harper of baltimore." "the hon'le mr. john randolph, of roanoke." beaumarchais, barely escaping the guillotine, died in poverty in holland. he bequeathed his claim to his daughter who ( ) was paid , francs, but the million which he had received from the king and then charged on the united states, was never paid. silas deane suffered a worse fate. his claims for commissions and services in france remained unpaid, and after his return to france he occupied himself with writing to his brother simeon the letters meant to be intercepted, printed by rivington in . in these letters he urges submission to england. franklin took the charitable view that his head had been turned by his misfortunes. he went over to england, where he became the friend of benedict arnold, and died in poverty in . in recent years his heirs were paid $ , by congress. but had his treachery, as now revealed in the letters of george iii., been known, there had been no such payment. * the documents referred to are no doubt among the lee papers preserved at the university of virginia, which i have examined. the determination with which paine, to his cost, withstood deane, may seem at first glance quixotic his attack was animated by a belief that the supplies sent from france were a covert gift, and at any rate, that the demand for instant payment to agents was fraudulent. evidence having been supplied, by the publication of beaumarchais notes to arthur lee, under pseudonym of "mary johnston," that returns in tobacco were expected, this, if not a mercantile mask, was still a matter of credit, and very different from payments demanded by beaumarchais and deane from the scanty treasury of the struggling colonies.* but there was something more behind the vehemence of paine's letters. * in one of deane's intercepted letters (may , ) there is an indication that he had found more truth in what paine had said about the gratuitous supplies than beaumarchais had led him to believe. "the first plan of the french government evidently was to assist us just so far as might be absolutely necessary to prevent an accommodation, and to give this assistance with so much secresy as to avoid any rupture with great britain. on this plan succors were first permitted to be sent out to us by private individuals, and only on condition of future payment, but afterward we were thought to be such cheap and effectual instruments of mischief to the british nation that more direct and gratuitous aids were furnished us." but now m. doniol has brought to light the reflexions and considerations of the french minister, count de vergennes, which led to his employment of beaumarchais, which contain such propositions as these: "it is essential that france shall at present direct its care towards this end: she must nourish the courage and perseverance of the insurgents by flattering their hope of effectual assistance when circumstances permit." "it will be expedient to give the insurgents secret aid in munitions and money; utility suggests this small sacrifice," "should france and spain give succors, they should seek compensation only in the political object they have at heart, reserving to themselves subsequent decision, after the events and according to the situations." "it would be neither for the king's dignity or interest to bargain with the insurgents." it is certain that beaumarchais was required to impress these sentiments on arthur lee, who continued to take them seriously, and made paine take them so, after beaumarchais was taking only his own interests seriously. this he intimated, but his revelation seems to have received no attention at the time. he says (january th): "in speaking of mr. deane's contracts with foreign officers, i concealed, out of pity to him, a circumstance that must have sufficiently shown the necessity of recalling him, and either his want of judgment or the danger of trusting him with discretionary power. it is no less than that of his throwing out a proposal, in one of his foreign letters, for contracting with a german prince to command the american army." this personage, who was "to supersede general washington," he afterwards declares to be prince ferdinand. it is known that count de broglie had engaged kalb and deane to propose him as generalissimo of america, but the evidence of this other proposal has disappeared with other papers missing from deane's diplomatic correspondence. i find, however, that ex-provost stille who has studied the proceedings of beaumarchais thoroughly, has derived from another source an impression that he (beaumarchais) made an earlier proposition of the same kind concerning prince ferdinand. it would be unsafe to affirm that deane did more than report the proposals made to him, but his silence concerning this particular charge of his antagonist, while denying every other categorically, is suspicious. at that early period washington had not loomed up in the eye of the world. the french and germans appear to have thought of the americans and their commander as we might think of rebellious red men and their painted chief. there is nothing in deane's letters from europe to suggest that he did not share their delusion, or that he appreciated the necessity of independence. paine, who conducted the foreign correspondence, knew that the secrets of the american office in paris were open to lord stormont, who stopped large supplies prepared for america, and suspected deane of treachery. it now appears that one of deane's assistants, george lupton, was an english "informer." (stevens' facsimiles, vii., no. .) deane had midnight meetings in the place vendome with an english "unknown" (now known as the informer paul wentworth) to whom he suggested that the troubles might be ended by england's forming a "federal union" with america. all of which shows deane perilously unfit for his mission, but one is glad to find him appearing no worse in wentworth's confidental portraiture (january , ) of the american officials: "dr. franklin is taciturn, deliberate, and cautious; mr. deane is vain, desultory, and subtle; mr. arthur lee, suspicious and indolent; alderman lee, peevish and ignorant; mr. izzard, costive and dogmatical--all of these insidious, and edwards vibrating between hope and fear, interest and attachment." the venal character of deane's subsequent treason clearly appears in the correspondence of george iii. with lord north (donne, pp. , , , , ) it also appears, by a letter of january , , that george iii. was aware that the proposal had been sent to his brother-in-law, prince ferdinand of brunswick, to become commander of the american revolutionists! chapter xi. cause, country, self whatever might be thought of paine's course in the deane-beaumarchais affair, there could be no doubt that the country was saved from a questionable payment unjustly pressed at a time when it must have crippled the revolution, for which the french subsidies were given. congress was relieved, and he who relieved it was the sufferer. from the most important congressional secretaryship he was reduced to a clerkship in owen bid-die's law office. paine's patriotic interest in public affairs did not abate. in the summer of he wrote able articles in favor of maintaining our right to the newfoundland fisheries in any treaty of peace that might be made with england. congress was secretly considering what instructions should be sent to its representatives in europe; in case negotiations should arise, and the subject was discussed by "americanus" in a letter to the _pennsylvania gazette_, june d. this writer argued that the fisheries should not be mentioned in such negotiations; england would stickle at the claim, and our ally, france, should not be called on to guarantee a right which should be left to the determination of natural laws. this position paine combated; he maintained that independence was not a change of ministry, but a real thing; it should mean prosperity as well as political liberty. our ally would be aggrieved by a concession to great britain of any means of making our alliance useful. "there are but two natural sources of wealth--the earth and the ocean,--and to lose the right to either is, in our situation, to put up the other for sale." the fisheries are needed, "_first_, as an employment _secondly_, as producing national supply and commerce, and a means of national wealth. _thirdly_, as a nursery for seamen." should great britain be in such straits as to ask for peace, that would be the right opportunity to settle the matter. "to leave the fisheries wholly out, on any pretence whatever, is to sow the seeds of another war." (_pennsylvania gazette_, june th, july th, st.) the prospects of peace seemed now sufficiently fair for paine to give the attention which nobody else did to his own dismal situation. his scruples about making money out of the national cause were eccentric. the manuscript diary of rickman, just found by dr. clair grece, contains this note: "franklin, on returning to america from france, where he had been conducting great commercial and other concerns of great import and benefit to the states of america, on having his accounts looked over by the committee appointed to do so, there was a deficit of £ , . he was asked how this happened. 'i was taught,' said he very gravely, 'when a boy to read the scriptures and to attend to them, and it is there said: muzzle not the ox that treadeth out his master's grain.' no further inquiry was ever made or mention of the deficient £ , , which, it is presumed, he devoted to some good and great purpose to serve the people,--his own aim through life." rickman, who named a son after franklin, puts a more charitable construction on the irregularities of the doctor's accounts than gouverneur morris (p. ). the anecdote may not be exact, but it was generally rumored, in congressional circles, that franklin had by no means been muzzled. nor does it appear to have been considered a serious matter. the standard of political ethics being thus lowered, it is easy to understand that paine gave more offence by his diogenes-lantern than if he had quietly taken his share of the grain he trod out the security of independence and the pressure of poverty rendered it unnecessary to adhere to his quixotic quaker repugnance to the sale of his inspirations, and he now desired to collect these into marketable shape. his plans are stated in a letter to henry laurens. "philadelphia, sepr. th, .--dear sir,--it was my intention to have communicated to you the substance of this letter last sunday had i not been prevented by a return of my fever; perhaps finding myself unwell, and feeling, as well as apprehending, inconveniences, have produced in me some thoughts for myself as well as for others. i need not repeat to you the part i have acted or the principle i have acted upon; and perhaps america would feel the less obligation to me, did she know, that it was neither the place nor the people but the cause itself that irresistibly engaged me in its support; for i should have acted the same part in any other country could the same circumstances have arisen there which have happened here. i have often been obliged to form this distinction to myself by way of smoothing over some disagreeable ingratitudes, which, you well know, have been shewn to me from a certain quarter. "i find myself so curiously circumstanced that i have both too many friends and too few, the generality of them thinking that from the public part i have so long acted i cannot have less than a mine to draw from--what they have had from me they have got for nothing, and they consequently suppose i must be able to afford it. i know but one kind of life i am fit for, and that is a thinking one, and, of course, a writing one--but i have confined myself so much of late, taken so little exercise, and lived so very sparingly, that unless i alter my way of life it will alter me. i think i have a right to ride a horse of my own, but i cannot now even afford to hire one, which is a situation i never was in before, and i begin to know that a sedentary life cannot be supported without jolting exercise. having said thus much, which, in truth, is but loss of time to tell to you who so well know how i am situated, i take the liberty of communicating to you my design of doing some degree of justice to myself, but even this is accompanied with some present difficulties, but it is the easiest, and, i believe, the most useful and reputable of any i can think of. i intend this winter to collect all my publications, beginning with common sense and ending with the fisheries, and publishing them in two volumes octavo, with notes. i have no doubt of a large subscription. the principal difficulty will be to get paper and i can think of no way more practicable than to desire arthur lee to send over a quantity from france in the confederacy if she goes there, and settling for it with his brother. after that work is com pleated, i intend prosecuting a history of the revolution by means of a subscription--but this undertaking will be attended with such an amazing expense, and will take such a length of time, that unless the states individually give some assistance therein, scarcely any man could afford to go through it. some kind of an history might be easily executed made up of daily events and triffling matters which would lose their importance in a few years. but a proper history cannot even be began unless the secrets of the other side of the water can be obtained, for the first part is so interwoven with the politics of england, that, that which will be the last to get at must be the first to begin with--and this single instance is sufficient to show that no history can take place of some time. my design, if i undertake it, is to comprise it in three quarto volumes and to publish one each year from the time of beginning, and to make an abridgment afterwards in an easy agreeable language for a school book. "all the histories of ancient wars that are used for this purpose, promotes no moral reflection, but like the beggars opera renders the villain pleasing in the hero. another thing that will prolong the completion of an history is the want of plates which only can be done in europe, for that part of a history which is intended to convey discription of places or persons will ever be imperfect without them. i have now, sir, acquainted you with my design, and unwilling, as you know i am, to make use of a friend while i can possibly avoid it, i am really obliged to say that i should now be glad to consult with two or three on some matters that regard my situation till such time as i can bring the first of those subscriptions to bear, or set them on foot, which cannot well be until i can get the paper; for should i [be] disappointed of that, with the subscriptions in my hand, i might be reflected upon, and the reason, tho' a true one, would be subject to other explanations. "here lies the difficulty i alluded to in the beginning of this letter, and i would rather wish to borrow something of a friend or two in the interim than run the risk i have mentioned, because should i be disappointed by the paper being taken or not arriving in time, the reason being understood by them beforehand will not injure me, but in the other case it would, and in the mean time i can be preparing for publication. i have hitherto kept all my private matters a secret, but as i know your friendship and you a great deal of my situation, i can with more ease communicate them to you than to another. "p. s. if you are not engaged to-morrow evening i should be glad to spend part of it with you--if you are, i shall wait your opportunity."* * i am indebted to mr. simon gratz of philadelphia for a copy of this letter. it was a cruel circumstance of paine's poverty that he was compelled to call attention not only to that but to his services, and to appraise the value of his own pen. he had to deal with hard men, on whom reserve was wasted. on september th he reminded the executive council of pennsylvania of his needs and his uncompensated services, which, he declared, he could not afford to continue without support. the council realized the importance of paine's pen to its patriotic measures, but was afraid of offending the french minister. its president, joseph reed, on the following day (september th) wrote to that minister intimating that they would like to employ paine if he (the minister) had no objection. on october th gerard replies with a somewhat equivocal letter, in which he declares that paine had agreed to terms he had offered through m. de mirales, but had not fulfilled them. "i willingly," he says, "leave m. payne to enjoy whatever advantages he promises himself by his denial of his acceptance of the offers of m. de mirales and myself. i would even add, sir, that if you feel able to direct his pen in a way useful to the public welfare--which will perhaps not be difficult to your zeal, talents, and superior lights,--i will be the first to applaud the success of an attempt in which i have failed."* on the same date paine, not having received any reply to his previous letter, again wrote to the council. * "life and correspondence of joseph reed." by his grandson. . "honble. sirs.--some few days ago i presented a letter to this honble. board stating the inconveniences which i lay under from an attention to public interest in preference to my own, to which i have recd, no reply. it is to me a matter of great concern to find in the government of this state, that which appears to be a disposition in them to neglect their friends and to throw discouragements in the way of genius and letters. "at the particular request of the gentleman who presides at this board, i took up the defence of the constitution, at a time when he declared to me that unless he could be assisted he must give it up and quit the state; as matters then pressed too heavy upon him, and the opposition was gaining ground; yet this board has since suffered me to combat with all the inconveniences incurred by that service, without any attention to my interest or my situation. for the sake of not dishonoring a cause, good in itself, i have hitherto been silent on these matters, but i cannot help expressing to this board the concern i feel on this occasion, and the ill effect which such discouraging examples will have on those who might otherwise be disposed to act as i have done. "having said this much, which is but a little part of which i am sensible, i have a request to make which if complied with will enable me to overcome the difficulties alluded to and to withdraw from a service in which i have experienced nothing but misfortune and neglect. i have an opportunity of importing a quantity of printing paper from france, and intend collecting my several pieces, beginning with common sense, into two volumes, and publishing them by subscription, with notes; but as i cannot think of beginning the subscription until the paper arrive, and as the undertaking, exclusive of the paper, will be attended with more expense than i, who have saved money both in the service of the continent and the state, can bear, i should be glad to be assisted with the loan of fifteen hundred pounds for which i will give bond payable within a year. if this should not be complied with, i request that the services i have rendered may be taken into consideration and such compensation made me therefor as they shall appear to deserve. "i am, honble. sirs, your obt. and humble servt., "thomas paine." the constitution which paine, in the above letter, speaks of defending was that of , which he had assisted dr. franklin, james cannon and others in framing for pennsylvania. it was a fairly republican constitution, and by its enfranchisement of the people generally reduced the power enjoyed by the rich and reactionary under the colonial government in still's biography of john dickinson the continued conflicts concerning this constitution are described. in , when a constitutional convention was proposed in pennsylvania, paine pointed out the superiority of its constitution of , which "was conformable to the declaration of independence and the declaration of rights, which the present constitution [framed in ] is not".* the constitution of , and paine's exposure of the services rendered to the enemy by quakers, cleared the pennsylvania assembly of the members of that society who had been supreme. this process had gone on. the oath of allegiance to the state, proposed by paine in , and adopted, had been followed in (april st) by one imposing renunciation of all allegiance to george iii., his heirs and successors, to be taken by all trustees, provosts, professors, and masters. this was particularly aimed at the nest of "tories" in the university of philadelphia, whose head was the famous dr. william smith. this provost, and all members of the university except three trustees, took the oath, but the influence of those who had been opposed to independence remained the same. * paine forgot the curious inconsistency in this constitution of , between the opening declaration of rights in securing religious freedom and equality to all who "acknowledge the being of a god," and the oath provided for all legislators, requiring belief in future rewards and punishments, and in the divine inspiration of the old and new testaments. this deistical oath, however, was probably considered a victory of latitudiarianism, for the members of the convention had taken a rigid trinitarian oath on admission to their seats. in the assembly got rid of the provost (smith), and this was done by the act of november which took away the charter of the university.* it was while this agitation was going on, and the philadelphia "tories" saw the heads of their chieftains falling beneath paine's pen, that his own official head had been thrown to them by his own act. the sullen spite of the "tories" did not fail to manifest itself. in conjunction with deane's defeated friends, they managed to give paine many a personal humiliation. this was, indeed, easy enough, since paine, though willing to fight for his cause, was a non-resistant in his own behalf. it may have been about this time that an incident occurred which was remembered with gusto by the aged john joseph henry after the "age of reason" had added horns and cloven feet to his early hero. mr. mease, clothier-general, gave a dinner party, and a company of his guests, on their way home, excited by wine, met paine. one of them remarking, "there comes 'common sense'"; matthew slough said, "damn him, i shall common-sense him," and thereupon tripped paine into the gutter.** but patriotic america was with paine, and missed his pen; for no _crisis_ had appeared for nearly a year. consequently on november , , the pennsylvania assembly elected him its clerk. * see "a memoir of the rev. william smith, d.d.," by charles j. stille, philadelphia, . provost stille, in this useful historical pamphlet, states all that can be said in favor of dr. smith, but does not refer to his controversy with paine. ** this incident is related in the interest of religion in mr. henry's "account of arnold's campaign against quebec." the book repeats the old charge of drunkenness against paine, but the untrustworthiness of the writer's memory is shown in his saying that his father grieved when paine's true character appeared, evidently meaning his "infidelity." his father died in , when no suspicion either of paine's habits or orthodoxy had been heard. { } on the same day there was introduced into that assembly an act for the abolition of slavery in the state, which then contained six thousand negro slaves. the body of this very moderate measure was prepared by george bryan, but the much admired preamble has been attributed by tradition to the pen of paine.* that this tradition is correct is now easily proved by a comparison of its sentiments and phraseology with the antislavery writings of paine presented in previous pages of this work. the author, who alone seems to have been thinking of the negroes and their rights during that revolutionary epoch, thus had some reward in writing the first proclamation of emancipation in america. the act passed march , . * "life and correspondence of joseph reed," ii., p. ; north american review, vol. lvii., no. cxx. the preamble is as follows: "i. when we contemplate our abhorrence of that condition, to which the arms and tyranny of great britain were exerted to reduce us, when we look back on the variety of dangers to which we have been exposed, and how miraculously our wants in many instances have been supplied, and our deliverances wrought, when even hope and human fortitude have become unequal to the conflict, we are unavoidably led to a serious and grateful sense of the manifold blessings, which we have undeservedly received from the hand of that being, from whom every good and perfect gift cometh. impressed with these ideas, we conceive that is is our duty, and we rejoice that it is in our power, to extend a portion of that freedom to others, which hath been extended to us, and release from that state of thraldom, to which we ourselves were tyrannically doomed, and from which we have now every prospect of being delivered. it is not for us to enquire why, in the creation of mankind, the inhabitants of the several parts of the earth were distinguished by a difference in feature or complexion. it is sufficient to know that all are the work of the almighty hand. we find in the distribution of the human species, that the most fertile as well as the most barren parts of the earth are inhabited by men of complexions different from ours, and from each other; from whence we may reasonably as well as religiously infer, that he, who placed them in their various situations, hath extended equally his care and protection to all, and that it becometh not us to counteract his mercies. we esteem it a peculiar blessing granted to us, that we are enabled this day to add one more step to universal civilization, by removing, as much as possible, the sorrows of those, who have lived in undeserved bondage, and from which, by the assumed authority of the kings of great britain, no effectual, legal relief could be obtained. weaned, by a long course of experience, from those narrow prejudices and partialities we had imbibed, we find our hearts enlarged with kindness and benevolence towards men of all conditions and nations; and we conceive ourselves at this particular period particularly called upon by the blessings which we have received, to manifest the sincerity of our profession, and to give a substantial proof of our gratitude. "ii. and whereas the condition of those persons, who have heretofore been denominated negro and mulatto slaves, has been attended with circumstances, which not only deprived them of the common blessings that they were by nature entitled to, but has cast them into the deepest afflictions, by an unnatural separation and sale of husband and wife from each other and from their children, an injury, the greatness of which can only be conceived by supposing that we were in the same unhappy case. in justice, therefore, to persons so unhappily circumstanced, and who, having no prospect before them whereon they may rest their sorrows and their hopes, have no reasonable inducement to render their service to society, which they otherwise might, and also in grateful commemoration of our own happy deliverance from that state of unconditional submission to which we were doomed by the tyranny of britain. "iii. be it enacted, &c." the new year, , found washington amid much distress at morristown. besides the published letters which attest this i have found an extract from one which seems to have escaped the attention of washington's editors.* it was written at morristown, january th. * it is in the ward collection at lafayette college, easton, pa., copied by a (probably) contemporary hand. "it gives me extreme pain that i should still be holding up to congress our wants on the score of provision, when i am convinced that they are doing all that they can for our relief. duty and necessity, however, constrain me to it. the inclosed copies of letters from mr. flint, the assistant commissary, and from gen. irvine, who commands at present our advanced troops, contain a just representation of our situation. to add to our difficulties i very much fear that the late violent snow storm has so blocked up the roads, that it will be some days before the scanty supplies in this quarter can be brought to camp. the troops, both officers and men, have borne their distress, with a patience scarcely to be conceived. many of the latter have been four or five days without meat entirely and short of bread, and none but very scanty supplies--some for their preservation have been compelled to maraud and rob from the inhabitants, and i have it not in my power to punish or reprove the practice. if our condition should not undergo a very speedy and considerable change for the better, it will be difficult to point out all the consequences that may ensue. about forty of the cattle mentioned by mr. flint got in last night." the times that tried men's souls had come again. the enemy, having discovered the sufferings of the soldiers at morristown, circulated leaflets inviting them to share the pleasures of new york. nor were they entirely unsuccessful. on may th was penned the gloomiest letter washington ever wrote. it was addressed to reed, president of pennsylvania, and the clerk (paine) read it to the assembly. "i assure you," said the commander's letter, "every idea you can form of our distresses will fall short of the reality. there is such a combination of circumstances to exhaust the patience of the soldiery that it begins at length to be worn out, and we see in every line of the army the most serious features of mutiny and sedition." there was throughout the long letter a tone of desperation which moved the assembly profoundly. at the close there was a despairing silence, amid which a member arose and said, "we may as well give up first as last." the treasury was nearly empty, but enough remained to pay paine his salary, and he headed a subscription of relief with $ .* the money was enclosed to mr. m'clenaghan, with a vigorous letter which that gentleman read to a meeting held in a coffee-house the same evening. robert morris and m'clenaghan subscribed £ each, hard money. the subscription, dated june th, spread like wildfire, and resulted in the raising of £ , , which established a bank that supplied the army through the campaign, and was incorporated by congress on december st. * the salary was drawn on june th, and amounted to $ , . for particulars concerning paine's connection with the assembly i am indebted to dr. william h. egle, state librarian of pennsylvania. paine, by his timely suggestion of a subscription, and his "mite," as he called it, proved that he could meet a crisis as well as write one. he had written a cheery _crisis_ in march, had helped to make good its hopefulness in may, and was straightway busy on another. this was probably begun on the morning when m'clenaghan came to him with a description of the happy effect and result produced by his letter and subscription on the gentlemen met at the coffee-house. this _crisis_ (june , ) declares that the reported fate of charleston, like the misfortunes of , had revived the same spirit; that such piecemeal work was not conquering the continent; that france was at their side; that an association had been formed for supplies, and hard-money bounties. in a postscript he adds: "charleston is gone, and i believe for the want of a sufficient supply of provisions. the man that does not now feel for the honor of the best and noblest cause that ever a country engaged in, and exert himself accordingly, is no longer worthy of a peaceable residence among a people determined to be free." meanwhile, on "sunday morning, june th," paine wrote to president reed a private letter: "sir,--i trouble you with a few thoughts on the present state of affairs. every difficulty we are now in arises from an empty treasury and an exhausted credit. these removed and the prospect were brighter. while the war was carried on by emissions at the pleasure of congress, any body of men might conduct public business, and the poor were of equal use in government with the rich. but when the means must be drawn from the country the case becomes altered, and unless the wealthier part throw in their aid, public measures must go heavily on. "the people of america understand rights better than politics. they have a clear idea of their object, but are greatly deficient in comprehending the means. in the first place, they do not distinguish between sinking the debt, and raising the current expenses. they want to have the war carried on, the lord knows how. "it is always dangerous to spread an alarm of danger unless the prospect of success be held out with it, and that not only as probable, but naturally essential. these things premised, i beg leave to mention, that suppose you were to send for some of the richer inhabitants of the city, and state to them the situation of the army and the treasury, not as arising so much from defect in the departments of government as from a neglect in the country generally, in not contributing the necessary support in time. if they have any spirit, any foresight of their own interest or danger, they will promote a subscription either of money or articles, and appoint a committee from among themselves to solicit the same in the several counties; and one state setting the example, the rest, i presume, will follow. suppose it was likewise proposed to them to deposit their plate to be coined for the pay of the army, crediting the government for the value, by weight. "if measures of this kind could be promoted by the richer of the whigs, it would justify your calling upon the other part to furnish their proportion without ceremony, and these two measures carried, would make a draft or call for personal service the more palatable and easy. "i began to write this yesterday. this morning, it appears clear to me that charleston is in the hands of the enemy, and the garrison prisoners of war. something must be done, and that something, to give it popularity, must begin with men of property. every care ought now to be taken to keep goods from rising. the rising of goods will have a most ruinous ill effect in every light in which it can be viewed. "the army must be reunited, and that by the most expeditious possible means. drafts should first be countenanced by subscriptions, and if men would but reason rightly, they would see that there are some thousands in this state who had better subscribe thirty, forty, or fifty guineas apiece than run the risk of having to settle with the enemy. property is always the object of a conqueror, wherever he can find it. a rich man, says king james, makes a bonny traitor; and it cannot be supposed that britain will not reimburse herself by the wealth of others, could she once get the power of doing it. we must at least recruit eight or ten thousand men in this state, who had better raise a man apiece, though it should cost them a thousand pounds apiece, than not have a sufficient force, were it only for safety sake. eight or ten thousand men, added to what we have now got, with the force that may arrive, would enable us to make a stroke at new york, to recover the loss of charleston--but the measure must be expeditious. "i suggest another thought. suppose every man, working a plantation, who has not taken the oath of allegiance, in philadelphia county, bucks, chester, lancaster, northampton, and berks, were, by the new power vested in the council, called immediately upon for taxes in kind at a certain value. horses and wagons to be appraised. this would not only give immediate relief, but popularity to the new power. i would remark of taxes in kind, that they are hard-money taxes, and could they be established on the non-jurors, would relieve us in the articles of supplies. "but whatever is necessary or proper to be done, must be done immediately. we must rise vigorously upon the evil, or it will rise upon us. a show of spirit will grow into real spirit, but the country must not be suffered to ponder over their loss for a day. the circumstance of the present hour will justify any means from which good may arise. we want rousing. "on the loss of charleston i would remark--the expectation of a foreign force arriving will embarrass them whether to go or to stay; and in either case, what will they do with their prisoners? if they return, they will be but as they were as to dominion; if they continue, they will leave new york an attackable post. they can make no new movements for a considerable time. they may pursue their object to the southward in detachments, but then in every main point they will naturally be at a stand; and we ought immediately to lay hold of the vacancy. "i am, sir, your obedient humble servant, "thomas paine." if paine had lost any popularity in consequence of his indirect censure by congress, a year before, it had been more than regained by his action in heading the subscription, and the inspiriting effect of his pamphlets of march and june, . the university of the state of pennsylvania, as it was now styled, celebrated the fourth of july by conferring on him the degree of master of arts.* among the trustees who voted to confer on him this honor were some who had two years before refused to take the american oath of allegiance. in the autumn appeared paine's _crisis extraordinary_. it would appear by a payment made to him personally, that in order to make his works cheap he had been compelled to take his publications into his own hands.** the sum of $ paid for ten dozen copies of this pamphlet was really at the rate of five cents per copy. it is a forcible reminder of the depreciation of the continental currency. at one period paine says he paid $ for a pair of woollen stockings. * mr. burk, secretary of the university of pennsylvania, sends me some interesting particulars. the proposal to confer the degree on paine was unanimously agreed to by the trustees present, who were the hon. joseph reed, president of the province; mr. moore, vice-president; mr. sproat (presbyterian minister), mr. white (the bishop), mr. helmuth, mr. wei-borg (minister of the german calvinist church), mr. farmer (roman catholic rector of st. mary's), dr. bond, dr. hutchkinson, mr. muhlenberg (lutheran minister). there were seven other recipients of the honor on that day, all eminent ministers of religion; and m.d. was conferred on david ramsay, a prisoner with the enemy. ** "in council. philadelphia, october th, . sir,--pay to thomas paine esquire, or his order, the amount of three hundred and sixty dollars continental money in state money, at sixty to one, amount of his account for dozen of the crisis extraordinary. wm. moore, vice president.--to david rittenhouse esquire, treasurer." although the financial emergency had been tided over by patriotic sacrifices, it had disclosed a chaos. "sir,--please to pay the within to mr. willm. harris, and you will oblige yr. obt. hble. sert., thos. paine.--david rittenhouse esq." "red. in full, h. wm. harris." [harris printed the pamphlet]. congress, so far from being able to contend with virginia on a point of sovereignty, was without power to levy taxes. "one state," writes washington (may st) "will comply with a requisition of congress; another neglects to do it; a third executes it by halves; and all differ either in the manner, the matter, or so much in point of time, that we are always working up hill, and ever shall be; and, while such a system as the present one or rather want of one prevails, we shall ever be unable to apply our strength or resources to any advantage." in the letter of may th, to the president of pennsylvania, which led to the subscription headed by paine, washington pointed out that the resources of new york and jersey were exhausted, that virginia could spare nothing from the threatened south, and pennsylvania was their chief dependence. "the crisis, in every point of view, is extraordinary." this sentence of washington probably gave paine his title, crisis extraordinary. it is in every sense a masterly production. by a careful estimate he shows that the war and the several governments cost two millions sterling annually. the population being , , , the amount would average s. d. per head. in england the taxation was £ per head. with independence a peace establishment in america would cost s. per head; with the loss of it americans would have to pay the £ per head like other english subjects. of the needed annual two millions, pennsylvania's quota would be an eighth, or £ , ; that is, a shilling per month to her , inhabitants,--which subjugation would increase to three-and-threepence per month. he points out that the pennsylvanians were then paying only £ , per annum, instead of their real quota of £ , , leaving a deficiency of £ , , and consequently a distressed army. after showing that with peace and free trade all losses and ravages would be speedily redressed, paine proposes that half of pennsylvania's quota, and £ , over, shall be raised by a tax of s. per head. with this sixty thousand (interest on six millions) a million can be annually borrowed. he recommends a war-tax on landed property, houses, imports, prize goods, and liquors. "it would be an addition to the pleasures of society to know that, when the health of the army goes round, a few drops from every glass become theirs." on december , , dunlap advertised paine's pamphlet "public good." under a charter given the virginia company in the state of virginia claimed that its southern boundary extended to the pacific; and that its northern boundary, starting four hundred miles above, on the atlantic coast, stretched due northwest. to this paine replies that the charter was given to a london company extinct for one hundred and fifty years, during which the state had never acted under that charter. only the heirs of that company's members could claim anything under its extinct charter. further, the state unwarrantably assumed that the northwestern line was to extend from the northern point of its atlantic base; whereas there was more reason to suppose that it was to extend from the southern point, and meet a due west line from the northern point, thus forming a triangular territory of forty-five thousand square miles. moreover, the charter of said the lines should stretch "from sea to sea." paine shows by apt quotations that the western sea was supposed to be a short distance from the atlantic, and that the northwestern boundary claimed by virginia would never reach the said sea, "but would form a spiral line of infinite windings round the globe, and after passing over the northern parts of america and the frozen ocean, and then into the northern parts of asia, would, when eternity should end, and not before, terminate in the north pole." such a territory is nondescript, and a charter that describes nothing gives nothing. it may be remarked here that though the attorney-general of virginia, edmund randolph, had to vindicate his state's claim, he used a similar argument in defeating lord fairfax's claim to lands in virginia which had not been discovered when his grant was issued.* all this, however, was mere fencing preliminary to the real issue. the western lands, on the extinction of the virginia companies, had reverted to the crown, and the point in which the state was really interested was its succession to the sovereignty of the crown over all that territory. it was an early cropping up of the question of state sovereignty. by royal proclamation of the province of virginia was defined so as not to extend beyond heads of rivers emptying in the atlantic. * "omitted chapters of history disclosed in the life and papers of edmund randolph," pp. , . paine contended that to the sovereignty of the crown over all territories beyond limits of the thirteen provinces the united states had succeeded. this early assertion of the federal doctrine, enforced with great historical and legal learning, alienated from paine some of his best southern friends. the controversy did not end until some years later. after the peace, a proposal in the virginia legislature to present paine with something for his services, was lost on account of this pamphlet.* * of course this issue of state v. national sovereignty was adjourned to the future battle-field, where indeed it was not settled. congress accepted virginia's concession of the territory in question (march i, ), without conceding that it was a donation; it accepted some of virginia's conditions, but refused others, which the state surrendered. a motion that this acceptance did not imply endorsement of virginia's claim was lost, but the contrary was not affirmed. the issue was therefore settled only in paine's pamphlet, which remains a document of paramount historical interest. there was, of course, a rumor that paine's pamphlet was a piece of paid advocacy. i remarked among the lee mss., at the university of virginia, an unsigned scrap of paper saying he had been promised twelve thousand acres of western land. such a promise could only have been made by the old indiana, or vandalia, company, which was trying to revive its defeated claim for lands conveyed by the indians in compensation for property they had destroyed. their agent, samuel wharton, may have employed paine's pen for some kind of work. but there is no faintest trace of advocacy in paine's "public good." he simply maintains that the territories belong to the united states, and should be sold to pay the public debt,--a principle as fatal to the claim of a company as to that of a state. the students of history will soon be enriched by a "life of patrick henry," by his grandson, william wirt henry, and a "life of george mason," by his descendant, miss rowland. in these works by competent hands important contributions will be made (as i have reason to know) to right knowledge of the subject dealt with by paine in his "public good." it can here only be touched on; but in passing i may say that virginia had good ground for resisting even the semblance of an assertion of sovereignty by a congress representing only a military treaty between the colonies; and that paine's doctrine confesses itself too idealistic and premature by the plea, with which his pamphlet closes, for the summoning of a "continental convention, for the purpose of forming a continental constitution, defining and describing the powers and authority of congress." chapter xii. a journey to france the suggestion of franklin to paine, in october, , that he should write a history of the events that led up to the conflict, had never been forgotten by either. from franklin he had gathered important facts and materials concerning the time antedating his arrival in america, and he had been a careful chronicler of the progress of the revolution. he was now eager to begin this work. at the close of the first year of his office as clerk of the assembly, which left him with means of support for a time, he wrote to the speaker (november , ) setting forth his intention of collecting materials for a history of the revolution, and saying that he could not fulfil the duties of clerk if re-elected.* * dr. egle informs me that the following payments to paine appear in the treasurer's account: , november , £ . , february . for public service at a treaty held at easton in , £ . february . pay as clerk, £ . . o. march . on account as clerk, £ . . o. march , "for his services "(probably those mentioned on p. ), £ , , . . june , "for days attendance and extra expenses," £ , . j. , (this was all paper money, and of much less value than it seems. the last payment was drawn on the occasion of his subscription of the $ , apparently hard money, in response to washington's appeal.) in march, , a fee act was passed regulating the payment of officers of the state in accordance with the price of wheat; but this was ineffectual to preserve the state paper from depreciation. in june, , a list of lawyers and state- officers willing to take paper money of the march issue as gold and silver was published, and in it appears "thomas paine, clerk to the general assembly." this and another letter (september , ), addressed to the hon. john bayard, speaker of the late assembly, were read, and ordered to lie on the table. paine's office would appear to have ended early in november; the next three months were devoted to preparations for his history. but events determined that paine should make more history than he was able to chronicle. soon after his _crisis extraordinary_ (dated october , ) had appeared, congress issued its estimate of eight million dollars (a million less than paine's) as the amount to be raised. it was plain that the money could not be got in the country, and france must be called on for help. paine drew up a letter to vergennes, informing him that a paper dollar was worth only a cent, that it seemed almost impossible to continue the war, and asking that france should supply america with a million sterling per annum, as subsidy or loan. this letter was shown to m. marbois, secretary of the french legation, who spoke discouragingly. but the hon. ralph izard showed the letter to some members of congress, whose consultation led to the appointment of col. john laurens to visit france. it was thought that laurens, one of washington's aids, would be able to explain the military situation. he was reluctant, but agreed to go if paine would accompany him. it so happened that paine had for some months had a dream of crossing the atlantic, with what purpose is shown in the following confidential letter (september , ), probably to gen. nathaniel greene. "sir,--last spring i mentioned to you a wish i had to take a passage for europe, and endeavour to go privately to england. you pointed out several difficulties in the way, respecting my own safety, which occasioned me to defer the matter at that time, in order not only to weigh it more seriously, but to submit to the government of subsequent circumstances. i have frequently and carefully thought of it since, and were i now to give an opinion on it as a measure to which i was not a party, it would be this:--that as the press in that country is free and open, could a person possessed of a knowledge of america, and capable of fixing it in the minds of the people of england, go suddenly from this country to that, and keep himself concealed, he might, were he to manage his knowledge rightly, produce a more general disposition for peace than by any method i can suppose. i see my way so clearly before me in this opinion, that i must be more mistaken than i ever yet was on any political measure, if it fail of its end. i take it for granted that the whole country, ministry, minority, and all, are tired of the war; but the difficulty is how to get rid of it, or how they are to come down from the high ground they have taken, and accommodate their feelings to a treaty for peace. such a change must be the effect either of necessity or choice. i think it will take, at least, three or four more campaigns to produce the former, and they are too wrong in their opinions of america to act from the latter. i imagine that next spring will begin with a new parliament, which is so material a crisis in the politics of that country, that it ought to be attended to by this; for, should it start wrong, we may look forward to six or seven years more of war. the influence of the press rightly managed is important; but we can derive no service in this line, because there is no person in england who knows enough of america to treat the subject properly. it was in a great measure owing to my bringing a knowledge of england with me to america, that i was enabled to enter deeper into politics, and with more success, than other people; and whoever takes the matter up in england must in like manner be possessed of a knowledge of america. i do not suppose that the acknowledgment of independence is at this time a more unpopular doctrine in england than the declaration of it was in america immediately before the publication of the pamphlet 'common sense,' and the ground appears as open for the one now as it did for the other then. "the manner in which i would bring such a publication out would be under the cover of an englishman who had made the tour of america incog. this will afford me all the foundation i wish for and enable me to place matters before them in a light in which they have never yet viewed them. i observe that mr. rose in his speech on governor pownall's bill, printed in bradford's last paper, says that 'to form an opinion on the propriety of yielding independence to america requires an accurate knowledge of the state of that country, the temper of the people, the resources of their government,' &c. now there is no other method to give this information a national currency but this,--the channel of the press, which i have ever considered the tongue of the world, and which governs the sentiments of mankind more than anything else that ever did or can exist. "the simple point i mean to aim at is, to make the acknowledgment of independence a popular subject, and that not by exposing and attacking their errors, but by stating its advantages and apologising for their errors, by way of accomodating the measure to their pride. the present parties in that country will never bring one another to reason. they are heated with all the passion of opposition, and to rout the ministry, or to support them, makes their capital point. were the same channel open to the ministry in this country which is open to us in that, they would stick at no expense to improve the opportunity. men who are used to government know the weight and worth of the press, when in hands which can use it to advantage. perhaps with me a little degree of literary pride is connected with principle; for, as i had a considerable share in promoting the declaration of independence in this country, i likewise wish to be a means of promoting the acknowledgment of it in that; and were i not persuaded that the measure i have proposed would be productive of much essential service, i would not hazard my own safety, as i have everything to apprehend should i fall into their hands; but, could i escape in safety, till i could get out a publication in england, my apprehensions would be over, because the manner in which i mean to treat the subject would procure me protection. "having said thus much on the matter, i take the liberty of hinting to you a mode by which the expense may be defrayed without any new charge. drop a delegate in congress at the next election, and apply the pay to defray what i have proposed; and the point then will be, whether you can possibly put any man into congress who could render as much service in that station as in the one i have pointed out. when you have perused this, i should be glad of some conversation upon it, and will wait on you for that purpose at any hour you may appoint. i have changed my lodgings, and am now in front street opposite the coffee house, next door to aitkin's bookstore. "i am, sir, your ob't humble servant, "thomas paine." { } the invitation of colonel laurens was eagerly accepted by paine, who hoped that after their business was transacted in france he might fulfil his plan of a literary descent on england. they sailed from boston early in february, , and arrived at l'orient in march. young laurens came near ruining the scheme by an imprudent advocacy, of which vergennes complained, while ascribing it to his inexperience. according to lamartine, the king "loaded paine with favors." the gift of six millions was "confided into the hands of franklin and paine." the author now revealed to laurens, and no doubt to franklin, his plan for going to england, but was dissuaded from it. from brest, may th, he writes to franklin in paris: "i have just a moment to spare to bid you farewell. we go on board in an hour or two, with a fair wind and everything ready. i understand that you have expressed a desire to withdraw from business, and i beg leave to assure you that every wish of mine, so far as it can be attended with any service, will be employed to make your resignation, should it be accepted, attended with every possible mark of honor which your long services and high character in life justly merit."* * he confides to franklin a letter to be forwarded to bury st. edmunds, the region of his birth. perhaps he had already been corresponding with some one there about his projected visit. ten years later the bury post vigorously supported paine and his "rights of man." they sailed from brest on the french frigate _resolve_ june st, reaching boston august th, with , , livres in silver, and in convoy a ship laden with clothing and military stores. the glad tidings had long before reached washington, then at new windsor. on may , , the general writes to philip schuyler: "i have been exceedingly distressed by the repeated accounts i have received of the sufferings of the troops on the frontier, and the terrible consequences which must ensue unless they were speedily supplied. what gave a particular poignancy to the sting i felt on the occasion was my inability to afford relief." on may th his diary notes a letter from laurens reporting the relief coming from france. the information was confided by washington only to his diary, lest it should forestall efforts of self-help. of course washington knew that the starting of convoys from france could not escape english vigilance, and that their arrival was uncertain; so he passed near three months in preparations, reconnoitrings, discussions. by menacing the british in new york he made them draw away some of the forces of cornwallis from virginia, where he meant to strike; but his delay in marching south brought on him complaints from governor jefferson, richard henry lee, and others, who did not know the secret of that delay. washington meant to carry to virginia an army well clad, with hard money in their pockets, and this he did. the arrival of the french supplies at boston, august th, was quickly heralded, and while sixteen ox-teams were carrying them to philadelphia, washington was there getting, on their credit, all the money and supplies he wanted for the campaign that resulted in the surrender of cornwallis. for this great service paine never received any payment or acknowledgment. the plan of obtaining aid from france was conceived by him, and mainly executed by him. it was at a great risk that he went on this expedition; had he been captured he could have hoped for little mercy from the british. laurens, who had nearly upset the business, got the glory and the pay; paine, who had given up his clerkship of the assembly, run the greater danger, and done the real work, got nothing. but it was a rôle he was used to. the young colonel hastened to resume his place in washington's family, but seems to have given little attention to paine's needs, while asking attention to his own. so it would appear by the following friendly letter of paine, addressed to "col. laurens, head quarters, virginia: "philadelphia, oct. , .--dear sir,--i received your favor (by the post,) dated sep. th, head of elk, respecting a mislaid letter. a gentleman who saw you at that place about the same time told me he had likewise a letter from you to me which he had lost, and that you mentioned something to him respecting baggage. this left me in a difficulty to judge whether after writing to me by post, you had not found the letter you wrote about, and took that opportunity to inform me about it. however, i have wrote to gen. heath in case the trunk should be there, and inclosed in it a letter to blodget in case it should not. i have yet heard nothing from either. i have preferred forwarding the trunk, in case it can be done in a reasonable time, to the opening it, and if it cannot, then to open it agreeably to your directions, tho' i have no idea of its being there. "i went for your boots, the next day after you left town, but they were not done, and i directed the man to bring them to me as soon as finished, but have since seen nothing of him, neither do wish him to bring them just now, as i must be obliged to borrow the money to pay for them; but i imagine somebody else has taken them off his hands. i expect col. morgan in town on saturday, who has some money of mine in his hands, and then i shall renew my application to the bootmaker. "i wish you had thought of me a little before you went away, and at least endeavored to put matters in a train that i might not have to reexperience what has already past. the gentleman who conveys this to you, mr. burke, is an assistant judge of south carolina, and one to whose friendship i am much indebted. he lodged some time in the house with me. "i enclose you the paper of this morning, by which you will see that gillam had not sailed (or at least i conclude so) on the th of july, as major jackson was deputy toast master, or burgos-master, or something, at an entertainment on that day. as soon as i can learn anything concerning gillam i will inform you of it. "i am with every wish for your happiness and success, &c. "please to present my compts. and best wishes to the general. i have wrote to the marquis and put all my politics into his letter. a paper with rivington's account of the action is enclosed in the marquis' letter."' * the original is in mr. w. f. haveraeyer's collection. it will be seen by the following letter to franklin's nephew that paine was now on good terms with the congressmen who had opposed him in the deane matter. the letter (in the historical society of pennsylvania) is addressed to "mr. jonathan williams, merchant, nantz," per "brig betsey." "philadelphia, nov. , .--dear sir,--since my arrival i have received a letter from you dated passy may , and directed to me at brest. i intended writing to you by mr. baseley who is consul at l'orient but neglected it till it was too late.--mem: i desired baseley to mention to you that mr. butler of s: carolina is surprised at capt rob------n's drawing on him for money; this mr. butler mentioned to me, and as a friend i communicate it to you.--i sent you col. laurens's draft on madam babut (i think that is her name) at nantz for l. d'ors for the expence of the journey but have never learned if you received it. "your former friend silas deane has run his last length. in france he is reprobating america, and in america (by letters) he is reprobating france, and advising her to abandon her alliance, relinquish her independence, and once more become subject to britain. a number of letters, signed silas deane, have been published in the new york papers to this effect: they are believed, by those who formerly were his friends, to be genuine; mr. robt. morris assured me that he had been totally deceived in deane, but that he now looked upon him to be a bad man, and his reputation totally ruined. gouverneur morris hopped round upon one leg, swore they had all been duped, himself among the rest, complimented me on my quick sight,--and by gods says he nothing carries a man through the world like honesty:--and my old friend duer 'sometimes a sloven and sometimes a beau,' says, deane is a damned artful rascal. however duer has fairly cleared himself. he received a letter from him a considerable time before the appearance of these in the new york papers--which was so contrary to what he expected to receive, and of such a traitorous cast, that he communicated it to mr. luzerne the minister. "lord cornwallis with officers and men are nabbéd nicely in the cheasepeake, which i presume you have heard already, otherwise i should send you the particulars. i think the enemy can hardly hold out another campaign. general greene has performed wonders to the southward, and our affairs in all quarters have a good appearance. the french ministry have hit on the right scheme, that of bringing their force and ours to act in conjunction against the enemy. "the marquis de la fayette is on the point of setting out for france, but as i am now safely on this side the water again, i believe i shall postpone my second journey to france a little longer.--lest doctr. franklin should not have heard of deane i wish you would write to him, and if anything new transpires in the meantime and the marquis do not set off too soon, i shall write by him. "remember me to mr. & mrs. johnstone, dr. pierce, mr. watson & ceasey and mr. wilt. make my best wishes to mrs. williams, mrs. alexander, and all the good girls at st. germain. "i am your friend &c. "thomas paine. "p. s. mind, i 'll write no more till i hear from you. the french fleet is sailed from the cheasepeake, and the british fleet from new york--and since writing the above, a vessel is come up the delaware, which informs that he was chased by two french frigates to the southward of cheasepeake, which on their coming up acquainted him that the french fleet was a head in chase of a fleet which they supposed to be the british. "n. b. the french fleet sailed the th of this month, and the british much about the same time--both to the southward." chapter xiii. the muzzled ox treading out the grain. while washington and lafayette were in virginia, preparing for their grapple with cornwallis, philadelphia was in apprehension of an attack by sir henry clinton, for which it was not prepared. it appeared necessary to raise for defence a body of men, but the money was wanting. paine (september th) proposed to robert morris the plan of "empowering the tenant to pay into the treasury one quarter's rent, to be applied as above [_i. e._, the safety of philadelphia], and in case it should not be necessary to use the money when collected, the sums so paid to be considered a part of the customary taxes." this drastic measure would probably have been adopted had not the cloud cleared away. the winter was presently made glorious summer by the sun of yorktown. washington was received with enthusiasm by congress on november th. in the general feasting and joy paine participated, but with an aching heart. he was an unrivalled literary lion; he had to appear on festive occasions; and he was without means. having given his all,--copyrights, secretaryship, clerkship,--to secure the independence of a nation, he found himself in a state of dependence. he fairly pointed the moral of solomon's fable: by his wisdom he had saved the besieged land, yet none remembered that poor man, so far as his needs were concerned. if in his confidential letter to washington, given below, paine seems egotistical, it should be borne in mind that his estimate of his services falls short of their appreciation by the national leaders. it should not have been left to paine to call attention to his sacrifices for his country's cause, and the want in which it had left him. he knew also that plain speaking was necessary with washington. "second street, opposite the quaker meetinghouse, nov. th, . "sir,--as soon as i can suppose you to be a little at leisure from business and visits, i shall, with much pleasure, wait on you, to pay you my respects and congratulate you on the success you have most deservedly been blest with. "i hope nothing in the perusal of this letter will add a care to the many that employ your mind; but as there is a satisfaction in speaking where one can be conceived and understood, i divulge to you the secret of my own situation; because i would wish to tell it to somebody, and as i do not want to make it public, i may not have a fairer opportunity. "it is seven years, this day, since i arrived in america, and tho' i consider them as the most honorary time of my life, they have nevertheless been the most inconvenient and even distressing. from an anxiety to support, as far as laid in my power, the reputation of the cause of america, as well as the cause itself, i declined the customary profits which authors are entitled to, and i have always continued to do so; yet i never thought (if i thought at all on the matter,) but that as i dealt generously and honorably by america, she would deal the same by me. but i have experienced the contrary--and it gives me much concern, not only on account of the inconvenience it has occasioned to me, but because it unpleasantly lessens my opinion of the character of a country which once appeared so fair, and it hurts my mind to see her so cold and inattentive to matters which affect her reputation. "almost every body knows, not only in this country but in europe, that i have been of service to her, and as far as the interest of the heart could carry a man i have shared with her in the worst of her fortunes, yet so confined has been my private circumstances that for one summer i was obliged to hire myself as a common clerk to owen biddle of this city for my support: but this and many others of the like nature i have always endeavored to conceal, because to expose them would only serve to entail on her the reproach of being ungrateful, and might start an ill opinion of her honor and generosity in other countries, especially as there are pens enough abroad to spread and aggravate it. "unfortunately for me, i knew the situation of silas deane when no other person knew it, and with an honesty, for which i ought to have been thanked, endeavored to prevent his fraud taking place. he has himself proved my opinion right, and the warmest of his advocates now very candidly acknowledge their deception. "while it was every body's fate to suffer i chearfully suffered with them, but tho' the object of the country is now nearly established and her circumstances rising into prosperity, i feel myself left in a very unpleasant situation. yet i am totally at a loss what to attribute it to; for wherever i go i find respect, and every body i meet treats me with friendship; all join in censuring the neglect and throwing blame on each other, so that their civility disarms me as much as their conduct distresses me. but in this situation i cannot go on, and as i have no inclination to differ with the country or to tell the story of her neglect, it is my design to get to europe, either to france or holland. i have literary fame, and i am sure i cannot experience worse fortune than i have here. besides a person who understood the affairs of america, and was capable and disposed to do her a kindness, might render her considerable service in europe, where her situation is but imperfectly understood and much misrepresented by the publications which have appeared on that side the water, and tho' she has not behaved to me with any proportionate return of friendship, my wish for her prosperity is no ways abated, and i shall be very happy to see her character as fair as her cause. "yet after all there is something peculiarly hard that the country which ought to have been to me a home has scarcely afforded me an asylum. "in thus speaking to your excellency, i know i disclose myself to one who can sympathize with me, for i have often cast a thought at your difficult situation to smooth over the unpleasantness of my own. "i have began some remarks on the abbé raynal's 'history of the revolution.' in several places he is mistaken, and in others injudicious and sometimes cynical. i believe i shall publish it in america, but my principal view is to republish it in europe both in french and english. "please, sir, to make my respectful compts. to your lady, and accept to yourself the best wishes of, "your obedt. humble servant, "thomas paine.* "his excellency general washington." * i am indebted to mr. simon gratz of philadelphia for a copy of this letter. { } paine's determination to make no money by his early pamphlets arose partly from his religious and quaker sentiments. he could not have entered into any war that did not appear to him sacred, and in such a cause his "testimony" could not be that of a "hireling." his "common sense," his first _crisis_, were inspirations, and during all the time of danger his pen was consecrated to the cause. he had, however, strict and definite ideas of copyright, and was the first to call attention of the country to its necessity, and even to international justice in literary property. in the chaotic condition of such matters his own sacrifices for the national benefit had been to some extent defeated by the rapacity of his first publisher, bell, who pocketed much of what paine had intended for the nation. after he had left bell for bradford, the former not only published another edition of "common sense," but with "large additions," as if from paine's pen. when the perils of the cause seemed past paine still desired to continue his literary record clear of any possible charge of payment, but he believed that the country would appreciate this sensitiveness, and, while everybody was claiming something for services, would take care that he did not starve. in this he was mistaken. in that very winter, after he had ventured across the atlantic and helped to obtain the six million livres, he suffered want. washington appears to have been the first to consider his case. in the diary of robert morris, superintendent of finance, there is an entry of january , , in which he mentions that washington had twice expressed to him a desire that some provision should be made for paine.* * sparks' "diplomatic correspondence," xii., p. . morris sent for paine and, in the course of a long conversation, expressed a wish that the author's pen should continue its services to the country; adding that though he had no position to offer him something might turn up. in february morris mentions further interviews with paine, in which his assistant, gouverneur morris, united; they expressed their high appreciation of his services to the country, and their desire to have the aid of his pen in promoting measures necessary to draw out the resources of the country for the completion of its purpose. they strongly disclaimed any private or partial ends, or a wish to bind his pen to any particular plans. they proposed that he should be paid eight hundred dollars per annum from some national fund. paine having consented, robert morris wrote to robert r. livingston on the subject, and the result was a meeting of these two with washington, at which the following was framed: "philadelphia, feb. , .--the subscribers, taking into consideration the important situation of affairs at the present moment, and the propriety and even necessity of informing the people and rousing them into action; considering also the abilities of mr. thomas paine as a writer, and that he has been of considerable utility to the common cause by several of his publications: they are agreed that it will be much for the interest of the united states that mr. paine be engaged in their service for the purpose above mentioned. they are therefore agreed that mr. paine be offered a salary of $ per annum, and that the same be paid him by the secretary of foreign affairs. the salary to commence from this day, and to be paid by the secretary of foreign affairs out of monies to be allowed by the superintendent of finance for secret services. the subscribers being of opinion that a salary publicly and avowedly given for the above purpose would injure the effect of mr. paine's publications, and subject him to injurious personal reflections. "robt. morris. "robt. livingston. "go. washington." before this joint note was written, paine's pen had been resumed. march th is the date of an extended pamphlet, that must long have been in hand. it is introduced by some comments on the king's speech, which concludes with a quotation of smollett's fearful description of the massacres and rapine which followed the defeat of the stuarts at culloden in . this, a memory from paine's boyhood at thetford, was an effective comment on the king's expression of his desire "to restore the public tranquillity," though poor george iii., who was born in the same year as paine, would hardly have countenanced such vengeance. he then deals--no doubt after consultation with robert morris, superintendent of finance--with the whole subject of finance and taxation, in the course of which he sounds a brave note for a more perfect union of the states, which must be the foundation-stone of their independence. as paine was the first to raise the flag of republican independence he was the first to raise that of a union which, above the states, should inherit the supremacy wrested from the crown. these passages bear witness by their nicety to the writer's consciousness that he was touching a sensitive subject. the states were jealous of their "sovereignty," and he could only delicately intimate the necessity of surrendering it but he manages to say that "each state (with a small s) is to the united states what each individual is to the state he lives in. and it is on this grand point, this movement upon one centre, that our existence as a nation, our happiness as a people, and our safety as individuals, depend." he also strikes the federal keynote by saying: "the united states will become heir to an extensive quantity of vacant land"--the doctrine of national inheritance which cost him dear. before the declaration, paine minted the phrases "free and independent states of america," and "the glorious union." in his second _crisis_, dated january , , he says to lord howe: "'the united states of america' will sound as pompously in the world or in history as 'the kingdom of great britain.'" * almon's remembrancer - , p. a. the friendliness of robert morris to the author is creditable to him. in the deane controversy, paine had censured him and other members of congress for utilizing that agent of the united states to transact their commercial business in europe. morris frankly stated the facts, and, though his letter showed irritation, he realized that paine was no respecter of persons where the american cause was concerned.* in the revolution required nicest steering. with the port in sight, the people were prone to forget that it is on the coast that dangerous rocks are to be found. since the surrender of cornwallis they were over-confident, and therein likely to play into the hands of the enemy, which had lost confidence in its power to conquer the states by arms. england was now making efforts to detach america and france from each other by large inducements. in france paine was shown by franklin and vergennes the overtures that had been made, and told the secret history of the offers of mediation from russia and austria. with these delicate matters he resolved to deal, but before using the documents in his possession consulted washington and morris. this, i suppose, was the matter alluded to in a note of march , , to washington, then in philadelphia: "you will do me a great deal of pleasure if you can make it convenient to yourself to spend a part of an evening at my apartments, and eat a few oysters or a crust of bread and cheese; for besides the favour you will do me, i want much to consult with you on a matter of public business, tho' of a secret nature, which i have already mentioned to mr. morris, whom i likewise intend to ask, as soon as yourself shall please to mention the evening when." a similar note was written to robert morris four days before. no doubt after due consultation the next _crisis_, dated may , , appeared. it dealt with the duties of the alliance: "general conway," he says, "who made the motion in the british parliament for discontinuing _offensive_ war in america, is a gentleman of an amiable character. we have no personal quarrel with him. but he feels not as we feel; he is not in our situation, and that alone without any other explanation is enough. the british parliament suppose they have many friends in america, and that, when all chance of conquest is over, they will be able to draw her from her alliance with france. now if i have any conception of the human heart, they will fail in this more than in anything that they have yet tried. this part of the business is not a question of policy only, but of honor and honesty." paine's next production was a public letter to sir guy carleton, commanding in new york, concerning a matter which gave washington much anxiety. on april th captain huddy had been hanged by a band of "refugees," who had sallied from new york into new jersey (april th). the crime was traced to one captain lippencott, and, after full consultation with his officers, washington demanded the murderer. satisfaction not being given, washington and his generals determined on retaliation, and colonel hazen, who had prisoners under guard at lancaster, was directed to have an officer of captain huddy's rank chosen by lot to suffer death. hazen included the officers who had capitulated with cornwallis, though they were expressly relieved from liability to reprisals (article ). the lot fell upon one of these, young captain asgill (may th). it sufficiently proves the formidable character of the excitement huddy's death had caused in the army that washington did not at once send asgill back. the fact that he was one of the capitulation officers was not known outside the military circle. of this circumstance paine seems ignorant when he wrote his letter to sir guy carleton, in which he expresses profound sympathy with captain huddy, and warns carle-ton that by giving sanctuary to the murderer he becomes the real executioner of the innocent youth. washington was resolved to hang this innocent man, and, distressing as the confession is, no general appears to have warned him of the wrong he was about to commit.* but paine, with well-weighed words, gently withstood the commander, prudently ignoring the legal point, if aware of it. * historians have evaded this ugly business. i am indebted to the family of general lincoln, then secretary of war, for the following letter addressed to him by washington, june , : "col. hazen's sending me an officer under the capitulation of yorktown for the purpose of retaliation has distressed me exceedingly. be so good as to give me your opinion of the propriety of doing this upon captain asgill, if we should be driven to it for want of an unconditional prisoner. presuming that this matter has been a subject of much conversation, pray with your own let me know the opinions of the most sensible of those with whom you have conversed. congress by their resolve has unanimously approved of my determination to retaliate. the army have advised it, and the country look for it. but how far is it justifiable upon an officer under the faith of a capitulation, if none other can be had is the question? hazen's sending captain asgill on for this purpose makes the matter more distressing, as the whole business will have the appearance of a farce, if some person is not sacrificed to the mains of poor huddy; which will be the case if an unconditional prisoner cannot be found, and asgill escapes. i write you in exceeding great haste; but beg your sentiments may be transmitted as soon as possible (by express), as i may be forced to a decision in the course of a few days.--i am most sincerely and affectionately, d'r sir, yr. obed't, "g. washington." "for my own part, i am fully persuaded that a suspension of his fate, still holding it _in terrorem_, will operate on a greater quantity of their passions and vices, and restrain them more, than his execution would do. however, the change of measures which seems now to be taking place, gives somewhat of a new cast to former designs; and if the case, without the execution, can be so managed as to answer all the purposes of the last, it will look much better hereafter, when the sensations that now provoke, and the circumstances which would justify his exit shall be forgotten." this was written on september th, and on the th washington, writing to a member of congress, for the first time intimates a desire that asgill shall be released by that body. in october came from vergennes a letter, inspired by marie antoinette, to whom lady asgill had appealed, in which he reminds washington that the captain is a prisoner whom the king's arms contributed to surrender into his hands. that he had a right, therefore, to intercede for his life. this letter (of july , ) was laid before congress, which at once set asgill at liberty. washington was relieved, and wrote the captain a handsome congratulation. although paine could never find the interval of leisure necessary to write consecutively his "history of the revolution," it is to a large extent distributed through his writings. from these and his letters a true history of that seven years can be gathered, apart from the details of battles; and even as regards these his contributions are of high importance, notably as regards the retreat across the delaware, the affairs at trenton and princeton, and the skirmishes near philadelphia following the british occupation of that city. the latter are vividly described in his letter to franklin (p. ), and the former in his review of the abbé' raynal. in his letter to washington, of november , , paine mentioned that he had begun "some remarks" on the abbé's work "on the revolution of the english colonies in north america." it was published early in september, . the chief interest of the pamphlet, apart from the passages concerning the military events of , lies in its reflections of events in the nine months during which the paper lingered on his table. in those months he wrote four numbers of the _crisis_, one of urgent importance on the financial situation. the review of the abbé's history was evidently written at intervals. as a literary production it is artistic. with the courtliness of one engaged in "an affair of honor," he shakes the abbé's hand, sympathizes with his misfortune in having his manuscript stolen, and thus denied opportunity to revise the errors for which he must be called to account. his main reason for challenging the historian is an allegation that the revolution originated in the question "whether the mother country had, or had not, a right to lay, directly or indirectly, a slight tax upon the colonies." the quantity of the tax had nothing to do with it the tax on tea was a british experiment to test its declaratory act affirming the right of parliament "to bind america in all cases whatever," and that claim was resisted in the first stage of its execution. secondly, the abbé suffers for having described the affair at trenton as accidental. paine's answer is an admirable piece of history. thirdly, the abbé suggests that the americans would probably have accommodated their differences with england when commissioners visited them in april, , but for their alliance with france. paine affirms that congress had rejected the english proposals (afterwards brought by the commissioners) on april d, eleven days before news arrived of the french alliance.* * here paine is more acute than exact. on june , , the english commissioners sent congress the resolutions for negotiation adopted by parliament, february th. congress answered that on april d it had published its sentiments on these acts. but these sentiments had admitted a willingness to negotiate if great britain should "as a preliminary thereto, either withdraw their fleets and armies, or else, in positive and express terms, acknowledge the independence of the said states." but in referring the commissioners (june th) to its manifesto of april d, the congress essentially modified the conditions: it would treat only as an independent nation, and with "sacred regard" to its treaties. on june th congress returned the english commissioners their proposal (sent on the th) unconsidered, because of its insults to their ally. the abbé is metaphysically punished for assuming that a french monarchy in aiding defenders of liberty could have no such motive as "the happiness of mankind." not having access to the archives of france, paine was able to endow vergennes with the enthusiasm of lafayette, and to see in the alliance a new dawning era of international affection. all such alliances are republican. the abbé is leniently dealt with for his clear plagiarisms from paine, and then left for a lecture to england. that country is advised to form friendship with france and spain; to expand its mind beyond its island, and improve its manners. this is the refrain of a previous passage. "if we take a review of what part britain has acted we shall find everything which should make a nation blush. the most vulgar abuse, accompanied by that species of haughtiness which distinguishes the hero of a mob from the character of a gentleman; it was equally as much from her manners as her injustice that she lost the colonies. by the latter she provoked their principle, by the former she wore out their temper; and it ought to be held out as an example to the world, to show how necessary it is to conduct the business of government with civility." the close of this essay, written with peace in the air, contains some friendly advice to england. she is especially warned to abandon canada, which, after loss of the thirteen colonies, will be a constant charge. canada can never be populous, and of all that is done for it "britain will sustain the expense, and america reap the advantage." in a letter dated "bordentown, september , ," paine says to washington: "i have the honour of presenting you with fifty copies of my letter to the abbé raynal, for the use of the army, and to repeat to you my acknowledgments for your friendship. "i fully believe we have seen our worst days over. the spirit of the war, on the part of the enemy, is certainly on the decline full as much as we think. i draw this opinion not only from the present promising appearance of things, and the difficulties we know the british cabinet is in; but i add to it the peculiar effect which certain periods of time have, more or less, on all men. the british have accustomed themselves to think of _seven years_ in a manner different to other portions of time. they acquire this partly by habit, by reason, by religion, and by superstition. they serve seven years' apprenticeship--they elect their parliament for seven years--they punish by seven years' transportation, or the duplicate or triplicate of that term--they let their leases in the same manner, and they read that jacob served seven years for one wife, and after that seven years for another; and the same term likewise extinguishes all obligations (in certain cases) of debt, or matrimony: and thus this particular period of time, by a variety of concurrences, has obtained an influence on their mind. they have now had seven years of war, and are no farther on the continent than when they began. the superstitious and populous part will therefore conclude that _it is not to be_, and the rational part of them will think they have tried an unsuccessful and expensive experiment long enough, and that it is in vain to try it any longer, and by these two joining in the same eventual opinion the obstinate part among them will be beaten out, unless, consistent with their former sagacity, they get over the matter at once by passing a new declaratory act _to bind time in all casts whatsoever_, or declare him a rebel." the rest of this letter is the cautious and respectful warning against the proposed execution of captain asgill, quoted elsewhere. washington's answer is cheerful, and its complimentary close exceptionally cordial. head-quarters, verplank's point, september, .--sir,--i have the pleasure to acknowledge your favor, informing me of your proposal to present me with fifty copies of your last publication for the amusement of the army. for this intention you have my sincere thanks, not only on my own account, but for the pleasure, which i doubt not the gentlemen of the army will receive from the perusal of your pamphlets. your observations on the _period of seven years_, as it applies itself to and affects british minds, are ingenious, and i wish it may not fail of its effects in the present instance. the measures and the policy of the enemy are at present in great perplexity and embarrassment--but i have my fears, whether their necessities (which are the only operating motives with them) are yet arrived to that point, which must drive them unavoidably into what they will esteem disagreeable and dishonorable terms of peace,--such, for instance, as an absolute, unequivocal admission of american independence, upon the terms on which she can accept it. for this reason, added to the obstinacy of the king, and the probable consonant principles of some of the principal ministers, i have not so full a confidence in the success of the present negociation for peace as some gentlemen entertain. should events prove my jealousies to be ill founded, i shall make myself happy under the mistake, consoling myself with the idea of having erred on the safest side, and enjoying with as much satisfaction as any of my countrymen the pleasing issue of our severe contest. "the case of captain asgill has indeed been spun out to a great length--but, with you, i hope that its termination will not be unfavourable to this country. "i am, sir, with great esteem and regard, "your most obedient servant, "g. washington." a copy of the answer to the abbé raynal was sent by paine to lord shelburne, and with it in manuscript his newest _crisis_, dated october , . this was suggested by his lordship's speech of july th, in which he was reported to have said: "the independence of america would be the ruin of england." "was america then," asks paine, "the giant of empire, and england only her dwarf in waiting? is the case so strangely altered, that those who once thought we could not live without them are now brought to declare that they cannot exist without us?" paine's prediction that it would be a seven years' war was nearly true. there was indeed a dismal eighth year, the army not being able to disband until the enemy had entirely left the country,--a year when peace seemed to "break out" like another war. the army, no longer uplifted by ardors of conflict with a foreign foe, became conscious of its hunger, its nakedness, and the prospect of returning in rags to pauperized homes. they saw all the civil officers of the country paid, while those who had defended them were unpaid; and the only explanations that could be offered--the inability of congress, and incoherence of the states--formed a new peril. the only hope of meeting an emergency fast becoming acute, was the unanimous adoption by the states of the proposal of congress for a five-per-cent. duty on imported articles, the money to be applied to the payment of interest on loans to be made in holland. several of the states had been dilatory in their consent, but rhode island absolutely refused, and paine undertook to reason with that state. in the _providence gazette_, december st, appeared the following note, dated "philadelphia, november , ": "sir,--inclosed i send you a philadelphia paper of this day's date, and desire you to insert the piece signed 'a friend to rhode island and the union.' i am concerned that rhode island should make it necessary to address a piece to her, on a subject which the rest of the states are agreed in.--yours &c. thomas paine." the insertion of paine's letter led to a fierce controversy, the immediate subject of which is hardly of sufficient importance to detain us long.* * it may be traced through the providence gazette of december , ( ), january , , , , february ( ); also in the newport mercury. paine writes under the signature of "a friend to rhode island and the union." i am indebted to professor jamieson of brown university for assistance in this investigation. yet this controversy, which presently carried paine to providence, where he wrote and published six letters, raised into general discussion the essential principles of union. rhode island's jealousy of its "sovereignty"--in the inverse ratio of its size,--made it the last to enter a union which gave it equal legislative power with the greatest states; it need not be wondered then that at this earlier period, when sovereignty and self-interest combined, our pioneer of nationality had to undergo some martyrdom. "what," he asked, "would the sovereignity of any individual state be, if left to itself to contend with a foreign power? it is on our united sovereignty that our greatness and safety, and the security of our foreign commerce, rest. this united sovereignty then must be something more than a name, and requires to be as completely organized for the line it is to act in as that of any individual state, and, if anything, more so, because more depends on it." he received abuse, and such ridicule as this (february st): "in the name of common sense, amen, i, thomas paine, having according to appointment, proceeded with all convenient speed to answer the objections to the five per cent, by endeavouring to cover the design and blind the subject, before i left philadelphia, and having proceeded to a _convenient_ place of action in the state of rhode island, and there republished my first letter," etc. { } in the same paper with this appeared a letter of self-defence from paine, who speaks of the personal civility extended to him in rhode island, but of proposals to stop his publications. he quotes a letter of friendship from colonel laurens, who gave him his war-horse, and an equally cordial one from general nathaniel greene, rhode island's darling hero, declaring that he should be rewarded for his public services. this visit to rhode island was the last work which paine did in pursuance of his engagement, which ended with the resignation of morris in january. probably paine received under it one year's salary, $ --certainly no more. i think that during the time he kept his usual signature, "common sense," sacred to his individual "testimonies." on his return to philadelphia paine wrote a memorial to chancellor livingston, secretary for foreign affairs, robert morris, minister of finance, and his assistant gouverneur morris, urging the necessity of adding "a continental legislature to congress, to be elected by the several states." robert morris invited the chancellor and a number of eminent men to meet paine at dinner, where his plea for a stronger union was discussed and approved. this was probably the earliest of a series of consultations preliminary to the constitutional convention. the newspaper combat in rhode island, which excited general attention, and the continued postponement of all prospect of paying the soldiers, had a formidable effect on the army. the anti-republican elements of the country, after efforts to seduce washington, attempted to act without him. in confronting the incendiary efforts of certain officers at newburg to turn the army of liberty into mutineers against it, washington is seen winning his noblest victory after the revolution had ended. he not only subdued the reactionary intrigues, but the supineness of the country, which had left its soldiers in a condition that played into the intriguers' hands. on april th washington formally announced the cessation of hostilities. on april th--eighth anniversary of the collision at lexington--paine printed the little pamphlet entitled "thoughts on peace and the probable advantages thereof," included in his works as the last _crisis_. it opens with the words: "the times that tried men's souls are over--and the greatest and completest revolution the world ever knew, gloriously and happily accomplished." he again, as in his first pamphlet, pleads for a supreme nationality, absorbing all cherished sovereignties. this is paine's "farewell address." "it was the cause of america that made me an author. the force with which it struck my mind, and the dangerous condition in which the country was in, by courting an impossible and an unnatural reconciliation with those who were determined to reduce her, instead of striking out into the only line that could save her, a declaration of independence, made it impossible for me, feeling as i did, to be silent; and if, in the course of more than seven years, i have rendered her any service, i have likewise added something to the reputation of literature, by freely and disinterestedly employing it in the great cause of mankind.... but as the scenes of war are closed, and every man preparing for home and happier times, i therefore take leave of the subject. i have most sincerely followed it from beginning to end, and through all its turns and windings; and whatever country i may hereafter be in, i shall always feel an honest pride at the part i have taken and acted, and a gratitude to nature and providence for putting it in my power to be of some use to mankind." chapter xiv. great washington and poor paine the world held no other man so great and so happy as washington, in september, ,--the month of final peace. congress, then sitting at princeton, had invited him to consult with them on the arrangements necessary for a time of peace, and prepared a mansion for him at rocky hill. for a time the general gave himself up to hilarity, as ambassadors of congratulation gathered from every part of the world. a glimpse of the festivities is given by david howell of rhode island in a letter to governor greene. "the president, with all the present members, chaplains, and great officers of congress, had the honor of dining at the general's table last friday. the tables were spread under a marquise or tent taken from the british. the repast was elegant, but the general's company crowned the whole. as i had the good fortune to be seated facing the general, i had the pleasure of hearing all his conversation. the president of congress was seated on his right, and the minister of france on his left. i observed with much pleasure that the general's front was uncommonly open and pleasant; the contracted, pensive phiz betokening deep thought and much care, which i noticed at prospect hill in , is done away, and a pleasant smile and sparkling vivacity of wit and humor succeeds. on the president observing that in the present situation of our affairs he believed that mr. [robert] morris had his hands full, the general replied at the same instant, 'he wished he had his pockets full too.' on mr. peters observing that the man who made these cups (for we drank wine out of silver cups) was turned a quaker preacher, the general replied that 'he wished he had turned a quaker preacher before he made the cups.' you must also hear the french minister's remark on the general's humor--'you tink de penitence wou'd have been good for de cups.' congress has ordered an egyptian statue of general washington, to be erected at the place where they may establish their permanent residence. no honors short of those which the deity vindicates to himself can be too great for gen. washington." at this time paine sat in his little home in bor-dentown, living on his crust. he had put most of his savings in this house (on two tenths of an acre) so as to be near his friend col. joseph kirkbride. the colonel was also of quaker origin, and a hearty sympathizer with paine's principles. they had together helped to frame the democratic constitution of pennsylvania ( ), had fought side by side, and both had scientific tastes. since the burning of his house, bellevue (bucks), colonel kirkbride had moved to borden town, n. j., and lived at hill top, now part of a female college. a part of paine's house also stands. at borden-town also resided mr. hall, who had much mechanical skill, and whom he had found eager to help him in constructing models of his inventions. to such things he now meant to devote himself, but before settling down permanently he longed to see his aged parents and revisit his english friends. for this, however, he had not means. robert morris advised paine to call the attention of congress to various unremunerated services. his secretaryship of the foreign affairs committee, terminated by an admitted injustice to him, had been burdensome and virtually unpaid; its nominal $ per month was really about $ . his perilous journey to france, with young laurens, after the millions that wrought wonders, had not brought him even a paper dollar. paine, therefore, on june th, wrote to elias boudinot, president of congress, stating that though for his services he had "neither sought, received, nor stipulated any honors, advantages, or emoluments," he thought congress should inquire into them. the letter had some effect, but meanwhile paine passed three months of poverty and gloom, and had no part in the festivities at princeton. one day a ray from that festive splendor shone in his humble abode. the great commander had not forgotten his unwearied fellow-soldier, and wrote him a letter worthy to be engraved on the tombs of both. "rocky hill, sept. , . "dear sir, "i have learned since i have been at this place, that you are at bordentown. whether for the sake of retirement or economy, i know not. be it for either, for both, or whatever it may, if you will come to this place, and partake with me, i shall be exceedingly happy to see you. "your presence may remind congress of your past services to this country; and if it is in my power to impress them, command my best services with freedom, as they will be rendered cheerfully by one who entertains a lively sense of the importance of your works, and who, with much pleasure, subscribes himself, "your sincere friend, "g. washington." the following was paine's reply: "borden town, sept. .--sir,--i am made exceedingly happy by the receipt of your friendly letter of the th. instant, which is this moment come to hand; and the young gentleman that brought it, a son of col. geo. morgan, waits while i write this. it had been sent to philadelphia, and on my not being there, was returned, agreeable to directions on the outside, to col. morgan at princetown, who forwarded it to this place. "i most sincerely thank you for your good wishes and friendship to me, and the kind invitation you have honored me with, which i shall with much pleasure accept. "on the resignation of mr. livingston in the winter and likewise of mr. r. morris, at [the same] time it was judged proper to discontinue the matter which took place when you were in philadelphia.* it was at the same time a pleasure to me to find both these gentlemen (to whom i was before that time but little known) so warmly disposed to assist in rendering my situation permanent, and mr. livingston's letter to me, in answer to one of mine to him, which i enclose, will serve to show that his friendship to me is in concurrence with yours. * see page . ** this had been washington's suggestion. "by the advice of mr. morris i presented a letter to congress expressing a request that they would be pleased to direct me to lay before them an account of what my services, such as they were, and situation, had been during the course of the war. this letter was referred to a committee, and their report is now before congress, and contains, as i am informed, a recommendation that i be appointed historiographer to the continent." i have desired some members that the further consideration of it be postponed, until i can state to the committee some matters which i wish them to be acquainted with, both with regard to myself and the appointment. and as it was my intention, so i am now encouraged by your friendship to take your confidential advice upon it before i present it for though i never was at a loss in writing on public matters, i feel exceedingly so in what respects myself. "i am hurt by the neglect of the collective ostensible body of america, in a way which it is probable they do not perceive my feelings. it has an effect in putting either my reputation or their generosity at stake; for it cannot fail of suggesting that either i (notwithstanding the appearance of service) have been undeserving their regard or that they are remiss towards me. their silence is to me something like condemnation, and their neglect must be justified by my loss of reputation, or my reputation supported at their injury; either of which is alike painful to me. but as i have ever been dumb on everything which might touch national honor so i mean ever to continue so. "wishing you, sir, the happy enjoyment of peace and every public and private felicity i remain &c. "thomas paine. "col. kirkbride at whose house i am, desires me to present you his respectful compliments." paine had a happy visit at washington's headquarters, where he met old revolutionary comrades, among them humphreys, lincoln, and cobb. he saw washington set the river on fire on guy fawkes day with a roll of cartridge-paper. when american art is more mature we may have a picture of war making way for science, illustrated by the night-scene of washington and paine on a scow, using their cartridge-paper to fire the gas released from the river-bed by soldiers with poles!* * see paine's essay on "the cause of the yellow fever." these experiments on the river at rocky hill were followed by others in philadelphia, with rittenhouse. there was a small party in congress which looked with sullen jealousy on washington's friendliness with paine. the states, since the conclusion of the war, were already withdrawing into their several shells of "sovereignty," while paine was arguing with everybody that there could be no sovereignty but that of the united states,--and even that was merely the supremacy of law. the arguments in favor of the tax imposed by congress, which he had used in rhode island, were repeated in his last _crisis_ (april th), and it must have been under washington's roof at rocky hill that he wrote his letter "to the people of america" (dated december th), in which a high national doctrine was advocated. this was elicited by lord sheffield's pamphlet, "observations on the commerce of the united states," which had been followed by a prohibition of commerce with the west indies in american bottoms. lord sheffield had said: "it will be a long time before the american states can be brought to act as a nation; neither are they to be feared by us as such." paine calls the attention of rhode island to this, and says: "america is now sovereign and independent, and ought to conduct her affairs in a regular style of character." she has a perfect right of commercial retaliation. "but it is only by acting in union that the usurpations of foreign nations on the freedom of trade can be counteracted, and security extended to the commerce of america. and when we view a flag, which to the eye is beautiful, and to contemplate its rise and origin inspires a sensation of sublime delight, our national honor must unite with our interest to prevent injury to the one or insult to the other." { } noble as these sentiments now appear, they then excited alarm in certain congressmen, and it required all washington's influence to secure any favorable action in paine's case. in , however, new york presented paine with "two hundred and seventy-seven acres, more or less, which became forfeited to and vested in the people of this state by the conviction of frederick devoe."* with such cheerful prospects, national and personal, paine rose into song, as appears by the following letter ("new york, april th") to washington: * the indenture, made june , , is in the register's office of westchester county, vol. t. of grantees, p. . the confiscated estate of the loyalist devoe is the well- known one at new rochelle on which paine's monument stands. i am indebted for investigations at white plains, and documents relating to the estate, to my friend george hoadly, and mr. b. davis washburn. "dear sir,--as i hope to have in a few days the honor and happiness of seeing you well at philadelphia, i shall not trouble you with a long letter. "it was my intention to have followed you on to philadelphia, but when i recollected the friendship you had shewn to me, and the pains you had taken to promote my interests, and knew likewise the untoward disposition of two or three members of congress, i felt an exceeding unwillingness that your friendship to me should be put to further tryals, or that you should experience the mortification of having your wishes disappointed, especially by one to whom delegation is his daily bread. "while i was pondering on these matters, mr. duane and some other friends of yours and mine, who were persuaded that nothing would take place in congress (as a single man when only nine states were present could stop the whole), proposed a new line which is to leave it to the states individually; and a unanimous resolution has passed the senate of this state, which is generally expressive of their opinion and friendship. what they have proposed is worth at least a thousand guineas, and other states will act as they see proper. if i do but get enough to carry me decently thro' the world and independently thro' the history of the revolution, i neither wish nor care for more; and that the states may very easily do if they are disposed to it. the state of pennsylvania might have done it alone. "i present you with a new song for the cincinnati; and beg to offer you a remark on that subject.* the intention of the name appears to me either to be lost or not understood. for it is material to the future freedom of the country that the example of the late army retiring to private life, on the principles of cincinnatus, should be commemorated, that in future ages it may be imitated. whether every part of the institution is perfectly consistent with a republic is another question, but the precedent ought not to be lost. "i have not yet heard of any objection in the assembly of this state, to the resolution of the senate, and i am in hopes there will be none made. should the method succeed, i shall stand perfectly clear of congress, which will be an agreeable circumstance to me; because whatever i may then say on the necessity of strengthening the union, and enlarging its powers, will come from me with a much better grace than if congress had made the acknowledgment themselves. "if you have a convenient opportunity i should be much obliged to you to mention this subject to mr. president dickinson. i have two reasons for it, the one is my own interest and circumstances, the other is on account of the state, for what with their parties and contentions, they have acted to me with a churlish selfishness, which i wish to conceal unless they force it from me. * paine wrote four patriotic american songs: "hail, great republic of the world" (tune "rule britannia"); "to columbia, who gladly reclined at her ease"; "ye sons of columbia, who bravely have fought,"--both of the latter being for the tune of "anacreon in heaven"; and "liberty tree "(tune "gods of the greeks"), beginning, "in a chariot of light, from the regions of day," etc. "as i see by the papers you are settling a tract of land, i enclose you a letter i received from england on the subject of settlements. i think lands might be disposed of in that country to advantage. i am, dear sir, &c." the estate at new rochelle had a handsome house on it (once a patrimonial mansion of the jays), and paine received distinguished welcome when he went to take possession. this he reciprocated, but he did not remain long at new rochelle.* bordentown had become his home; he had found there a congenial circle of friends,--proved such during his poverty. he was not, indeed, entirely relieved of poverty by the new york _honorarium_, but he had expectation that the other states would follow the example. in a letter to jefferson also paine explained his reason for desiring that the states, rather than congress, should remunerate him. that washington appreciated this motive appears by letters to richard henry lee and james madison. *"an old lady, now a boarding-housekeeper in cedar street, remembers when a girl visiting mr. paine when he took possession of his house and farm at new rochelle, and gave a village fete on the occasion; she then only knew him as 'common sense,' and supposed that was his name. on that day he had something to say to everybody, and young as she was she received a portion of his attention; while he sat in the shade, and assisted in the labor of the feast, by cutting or breaking sugar to be used in some agreeable liquids by his guests. mr. paine was then, if not handsome, a fine agreeable looking man."--vale, . the original house was accidentally destroyed by fire, while paine was in the french convention. the present house was, however, occupied by him after his return to america. "mount vernon, june.--unsolicited by, and unknown to mr. paine, i take the liberty of hinting the services and the distressed (for so i think it may be called) situation of that gentleman. "that his common sense, and many of his crisis, were well timed and had a happy effect upon the public mind, none, i believe, who will recur to the epocha's at which they were published will deny.--that his services hitherto have passed of [f] unnoticed is obvious to all;--and that he is chagreened and necessitous i will undertake to aver.--does not common justice then point to some compensation? "he is not in circumstances to refuse the bounty of the public. new york, not the least distressed nor most able state in the union, has set the example. he prefers the benevolence of the states individually to an allowance from congress, for reasons which are conclusive in his own mind, and such as i think may be approved by others. his views are moderate, a decent independency is, i believe, the height of his ambition, and if you view his services in the american cause in the same important light that i do, i am sure you will have pleasure in obtaining it for him.--i am with esteem and regard, dr. sir, yr. most obdt. servt., "george washington."* "mount vernon, june .--dear sir,--can nothing be done in our assembly for poor paine? must the merits and services of _common sense_ continue to glide down the stream of time, unrewarded by this country? "his writings certainly have had a powerful effect on the public mind,--ought they not then to meet an adequate return? he is poor! he is chagreened! and almost if not altogether in despair of relief. "new york, it is true, not the least distressed nor best able state in the union, has done something for him. this kind of provision he prefers to an allowance from congress, he has reasons for it, which to him are conclusive, and such, i think, as would have weight with others. his views are moderate--a decent independency is, i believe, all he aims at. should he not obtain this? if you think so i am sure you will not only move the matter but give it your support. for me it only remains to feel for his situation and to assure you of the sincere esteem and regard with which i have the honor to be, dsir, "yr. most obedt. humble servt, "g. washington." "james madison, esq." *i found this letter (to lee) among the franklin mss. in the philosophical society, philadelphia. ** i am indebted for this letter to mr. frederick mcguire, of washington. a similar letter was written to patrick henry and perhaps to others. a bill introduced into the virginia legislature (june th) to give paine a tract of land, being lost on the third reading, madison (june th) offered a "bill for selling the public land in the county of northampton, called the secretary's land, and applying part of the money arising therefrom to the purchase of a tract to be vested in thomas payne and his heirs." the result is described by madison (july d) to washington: * "arthur lee was most responsible for the failure of the measure, for he was active in cultivating a prejudice against paine. this was somewhat ungracious, as paine had befriended lee in his controversy with deane."--ford's "writings of washington," x., p. . had there been any belief at this time that paine had been paid for writing the pamphlet objected to, "public good," it would no doubt have been mentioned. "the easy reception it found, induced the friends of the measure to add the other moiety to the proposition, which would have raised the market value of the donation to about four thousand pounds, or upwards, though it would not probably have commanded a rent of more than one hundred pounds per annum. in this form the bill passed through two readings. the third reading proved that the tide had suddenly changed, for the bill was thrown out by a large majority. an attempt was next made to sell the land in question, and apply two thousand pounds of the money to the purchase of a farm for mr. paine. this was lost by a single voice. whether a greater disposition to reward patriotic and distinguished exertions of genius will be found on any succeeding occasion, is not for me to predetermine. should it finally appear that the merits of the man, whose writings have so much contributed to enforce and foster the spirit of independence in the people of america, are unable to inspire them with a just beneficence, the world, it is to be feared, will give us as little credit for our policy as for gratitude in this particular." r. h. lee--unfortunately not present, because of illness--writes washington (july d): "i have been told that it miscarried from its being observed that he had shown enmity to this state by having written a pamphlet injurious to our claim of western territory. it has ever appeared to me that this pamphlet was the consequence of mr. paine's being himself imposed upon, and that it was rather the fault of the place than the man."' so the news came that virginia had snubbed paine, at the moment of voting a statue to washington. but his powerful friend did not relax his efforts, and he consulted honest john dickinson, president of pennsylvania. under date of november th, the following was written by paine to general irwin, vice-president of pennsylvania: "the president has made me acquainted with a conversation which general washington had with him at their last interview respecting myself, and he is desirous that i should communicate to you his wishes, which are, that as he stands engaged on the general's request to recommend to the assembly, so far as lies in his power, their taking into consideration the part i have acted during the war, that you would join your assistance with him in the measure.--having thus, sir, opened the matter to you in general terms, i will take an opportunity at some time convenient to yourself to state it to you more fully, as there are many parts in it that are not publicly known.--i shall have the pleasure of seeing you at the president's to-day to dine and in the mean time i am etc." on december th the council sent this message to the general assembly of pennsylvania: "gentlemen: the president having reported in council a conversation between general washington and himself respecting mr. thomas paine, we have thereby been induced to take the services and situation of that gentleman at this time into our particular consideration. "arriving in america just before the war broke out, he commenced his residence here, and became a citizen of this commonwealth by taking the oath of allegiance at a very early period. so important were his services during the late contest, that those persons whose own merits in the course of it have been the most distinguished concur with a highly honorable unanimity in entertaining sentiments of esteem for him, and interesting themselves in his deserts. it is unnecessary for us to enlarge on this subject. if the general assembly shall be pleased to appoint a committee, they will receive information that we doubt not will in every respect prove satisfactory. "we confide that you will, then, feel the attention of pennsylvania is drawn towards mr. paine by motives equally grateful to the human heart, and reputable to the republic; and that you will join with us in the opinion that a suitable acknowledgment of his eminent services, and a proper provision for the continuance of them in an independent manner, should be made on the part of this state." pennsylvania promptly voted to paine £ ,--a snug little fortune in those days. paine thus had a happy new year. only two states had acted, but they had made him independent meanwhile congress also was willing to remunerate him, but he had put difficulties in the way. he desired, as we have seen, to be independent of that body, and wished it only to pay its debts to him; but one of these--his underpaid secretaryship--would involve overhauling the paine-deane case again. perhaps that was what paine desired; had the matter been passed on again the implied censures of paine on the journal of congress would have been reversed. when therefore a gratuity was spoken of paine interfered, and wrote to congress, now sitting in new york, asking leave to submit his accounts. this letter was referred to a committee (gerry, pettit, king). "mr. gerry," says paine, "came to me and said that the committee had consulted on the subject, and they intended to bring in a handsome report, but that they thought it best not to take any notice of your letter, or make any reference to deane's affair, or your salary. they will indemnify you without it. the case is, there are some motions on the journals of congress for censuring you, with respect to deane's affair, which cannot now be recalled, because they have been printed. therefore [we] will bring in a report that will supersede them without mentioning the purport of your letter." on the committee's report congress resolved (august th): "that the early, unsolicited, and continued labors of mr. thomas paine, in explaining and enforcing the principles of the late revolution by ingenious and timely publications upon the nature of liberty, and civil government, have been well received by the citizens of these states, and merit the approbation of congress; and that in consideration of these services, and the benefits produced thereby, mr. paine is entitled to a liberal gratification from the united states." this of course was not what paine wished, and he again (september th) urged settlement of his accounts. but, on october d, congress ordered the treasurer to pay paine $ , , "for the considerations mentioned in the resolution of the th of august last" "it was," paine maintained to the last, "an indemnity to me for some injustice done me, for congress had acted dishonorably by me." the committee had proposed $ , , but the author's enemies had managed to reduce it the sum paid was too small to cover paine's journey to france with laurens, which was never repaid. the services of thomas paine to the american cause cannot, at this distance of time, be estimated by any records of them, nor by his printed works. they are best measured in the value set on them by the great leaders most cognizant of them,--by washington, franklin, jefferson, adams, madison, robert morris, chancellor livingston, r. h. lee, colonel laurens, general greene, dickinson. had there been anything dishonorable or mercenary in paine's career, these are the men who would have known it; but their letters are searched in vain for even the faintest hint of anything disparaging to his patriotic self-devotion during those eight weary years. their letters, however, already quoted in these pages, and others omitted, show plainly that they believed that all the states owed paine large "returns (as madison wrote to washington) of gratitude for voluntary services," and that these services were not merely literary. such was the verdict of the men most competent to pass judgment on the author, the soldier, the secretary. it can never be reversed. to the radical of to-day, however, paine will seem to have fared pretty well for a free lance; and he could now beat all his lances into bridge iron, without sparing any for the wolf that had haunted his door. { } chapter xv. pontifical and political inventions paine was the literary lion in new york--where congress sat in --and was especially intimate with the nicholsons, whose house was the social _salon_ of leading republicans.* one may easily read between the lines of the following note to franklin that the writer is having "a good time" in new york, where it was written september d: * "commodore nicholson was an active republican politician in the city of new york, and his house was a headquarters for the men of his way of thinking. the young ladies' letters are full of allusions to the new york society of that day, and to calls from aaron burr, the livingstons, the clintons, and many others.... an other man still more famous in some respects was a frequent visitor at their house. it is now almost forgotten that thomas paine, down to the time of his departure for europe in , was a fashionable member of society, admired and courted as the greatest literary genius of his day.... here is a little autograph, found among the papers of mrs. gallatin [née nicholson]; its address is to: 'miss hannah n., at the lord knows where.--you mistress hannah if you don't come home, i 'll come and fetch you. t. paine.'"--adams' "life of gallatin." "my dear sir,--it gives me exceeding great pleasure to have the opportunity of congratulating you on your return home, and to a land of peace; and to express to you my heartfelt wishes that the remainder of your days may be to you a time of happy ease and rest. should fate prolong my life to the extent of yours, it would give me the greatest felicity to have the evening scene some resemblance of what you now enjoy. "in making you this address i have an additional pleasure in reflecting, that, so far as i have hitherto gone, i am not conscious of any circumstance in my conduct that should give you one repentant thought for being my patron and introducer to america. "it would give me great pleasure to make a journey to philadelphia on purpose to see you, but an interesting affair i have with congress makes my absence at this time improper. "if you have time to let me know how your health is, i shall be much obliged to you. "i am, dear sir, with the sincerest affection and respect, "your obedient, humble servant, "thomas paine. "the hon'ble benjamin franklin, esquire. "my address is messrs. lawrence and morris, merchants." to this came the following reply, dated philadelphia, september th: "dear sir,--'i have just received your friendly congratulations on my return to america, for which, as well as your kind wishes for my welfare, i beg you to accept my most thankful acknowledgments. ben is also very sensible of your politeness, and desires his respects may be presented. "i was sorry on my arrival to find you had left this city. your present arduous undertaking, i easily conceive, demands retirement, and tho' we shall reap the fruits of it, i cannot help regretting the want of your abilities here where in the present moment they might, i think, be successfully employed. parties still run very high--common sense would unite them. it is to be hoped therefore it has not abandoned us forever."* * the remainder of the letter (ms. philosoph. soc., philadelphia) seems to be in the writing of william temple franklin, to whom probably paine had enclosed a note: "mr. williams whom you inquire after accompanied us to america, and is now here. we left mrs. wms. and her sisters well at st. ger's, but they proposed shortly returning to england to live with their uncle, mr. j. alexander, who has entirely settled his affairs with mr. wal-pole and the bank. mr. wm. alex'r i suppose you know is in virginia fulfilling his tobacco contract with the farmer gen'l. the marquis la fayette we saw a few days before we left passy--he was well and on the point of setting off on an excursion into germany, and a visit to the emperor k. of prussia.--i purpose shortly being at new york, where i will with pleasure give you any further information you may wish, and shall be very happy to cultivate the acquaintance and friendship of mr. paine, for whose character i have a sincere regard and of whose services i, as an american, have a grateful sense" the "arduous undertaking" to which franklin refers was of course the iron bridge. but it will be seen by our next letter that paine had another invention to lay before franklin, to whom he hastened after receiving his $ , from congress: "dec. , .--dear sir,--i send you the candles i have been making;--in a little time afer they are lighted the smoke and flame separate, the one issuing from one end of the candle, and the other from the other end. i supposed this to be because a quantity of air enters into the candle between the tallow and the flame, and in its passage downwards takes the smoke with it; for if you allow a quantity of air up the candle, the current will be changed, and the smoke reascends, and in passing this the flame makes a small flash and a little noise. "but to express the idea i mean, of the smoke descending more clearly it is this,--that the air enters the candle in the very place where the melted tallow is getting into the state of flame, and takes it down before the change is completed--for there appears to me to be two kinds of smoke, humid matter which never can be flame, and enflameable matter which would be flame if some accident did not prevent the change being completed--and this i suppose to be the case with the descending smoke of the candle. "as you can compare the candle with the lamp, you will have an opportunity of ascertaining the cause--why it will do in the one and not in the other. when the edge of the en-flamed part of the wick is close with the edge of the tin of the lamp no counter current of air can enter--but as this contact does not take place in the candle a counter current enters and prevents the effect [?] in the candles which illuminates the lamp. for the passing of the air thro' the lamp does not, i imagine, burn the smoke, but burns up all the oil into flame, or by its rapidity prevents any part of the oil flying off in the state of half-flame which is smoke. "i do not, my dear sir, offer these reasons to you but to myself, for i have often observed that by lending words for my thoughts i understand my thoughts the better. thoughts are a kind of mental smoke, which require words to illuminate them. "i am affectionately your obt. & hble. servant, "thomas paine. "i hope to be well enough tomorrow to wait on you." { } paine had now to lay aside his iron arch and bridge a financial flood. a party had arisen in philadelphia, determined to destroy the "bank of north america." paine had confidence in this bank, and no one knew its history better, for it had grown out of the subscription he headed (may, ) with $ for the relief of washington's suffering army. it had been incorporated by congress, and ultimately by pennsylvania, april , . investments and deposits by and in the bank had become very large, and to repeal its charter was to violate a contract. the attack was in the interest of paper money, of which there was a large issue. the repeal had to be submitted to popular suffrage, and even cheet-ham admits that paine's pamphlet "probably averted the act of despotism." the pamphlet was entitled, "dissertations on government, the affairs of the bank, and paper money" ( pages vo). it was written and printed, paine says in his preface (dated february , ), "during the short recess of the assembly." this was between december d and february th. the first fourteen pages of the work are devoted to a consideration of general principles. englishmen who receive their constitutional instruction from walter bagehot and albert dicey will find in this introduction by paine the foundation of their republic. in discussing "sovereignty" he points out that the term, when applied to a people, has a different meaning from the arbitrariness it signifies in a monarchy. "despotism may be more effectually acted by many over a few, than by one over all." "a republic is a sovereignty of justice, in contradistinction to a sovereignty of will." the distinct powers of the legislature are stated--those of legislation and those of agency. "all laws are acts, but all acts are not laws." laws are for every individual; they may be altered. acts of agency or negotiation are deeds and contracts. "the greatness of one party cannot give it a superiority or advantage over the other. the state or its representative, the assembly, has no more power over an act of this kind, after it has passed, than if the state was a private person. it is the glory of a republic to have it so, because it secures the individual from becoming the prey of power, and prevents might from overcoming right. if any difference or dispute arise between the state and the individuals with whom the agreement is made respecting the contract, or the meaning or extent of any of the matters contained in the act, which may affect the property or interest of either, such difference or dispute must be judged of and decided upon by the laws of the land, in a court of justice and trial by jury; that is, by the laws of the land already in being at the time such act and contract was made." "that this is justice," adds paine, "that it is the true principle of republican government, no man will be so hardy as to deny." so, indeed, it seemed in those days. in the next year those principles were embodied in the constitution; and in , when a state pleaded its sovereign right to repudiate a contract ("chisholm vs. georgia") the supreme court affirmed every contention of paine's pamphlet, using his ideas and sometimes his very phrases. our first attorney-general (edmund randolph, of virginia) eloquently maintained that the inferiority of one party, or dignity of the other, could not affect the balances of justice. individuals could not be left the victims of states. so it was decided. justice wilson remarked that the term sovereignty is unknown to the constitution: "the term 'sovereign' has for its correlative, 'subject.'" a state contracting as a merchant cannot, when asked to fulfil its contract, take refuge in its "sovereignty." "the rights of individuals," said justice cushing, "and the justice due to them are as dear and precious as those of states. indeed the latter are founded on the former; and the great end and object of them must be to secure and support the rights of individuals, or else vain is government."* but the decline of republicanism set in; the shameful eleventh amendment was adopted; chisholm was defrauded of his victory by a retrospective action of this amendment; and america stands to-day as the only nation professing civilization, which shields repudiation under "state sovereignty." see "omitted chapters of history disclosed in the life and papers of edmund randolph," chap. xviii., for a full history of this subject. in the strength of these principles paine was able to overwhelm the whole brood of heresies,--state privilege, legal tender, repudiation, retrospective laws. his arguments are too modern to need repetition here; in fineness and force they are like the ribs of his bridge: as to-day commerce travels on paine's iron span, so on his argumentative arch it passes over freshets endangering honest money. for a like reason it is unnecessary to give here all the details of his bridge sent by paine to his correspondents. of this invention more is said in further chapters, but the subjoined letters are appropriate at this point the first two were written at bordentown, where paine settled himself in the spring. to franklin, undated.--"i send you the two essays i mentioned. as the standing or not standing of such an arch is not governed by opinions, therefore opinions one way or the other will not alter the fact. the opinions of its standing will not make it stand, the opinions of its falling will not make it fall; but i shall be exceedingly obliged to you to bestow a few thoughts on the subject and to communicate to me any difficulties or doubtfulness that may occur to you, because it will be of use to me to know them. as you have not the model to look at i enclose a sketch of a rib, except that the blocks which separate the bars are not represented." to franklin, june th.--"the gentleman, mr. hall, who presents you with this letter, has the care of two models for a bridge, one of wood, the other of cast iron, which i have the pleasure of submitting to you, as well for the purpose of showing my respect to you, as my patron in this country, as for the sake of having your opinion and judgment thereon.--the european method of bridge architecture, by piers and arches, is not adapted to many of the rivers in america on account of the ice in the winter. the construction of those i have the honor of presenting to you is designed to obviate the difficulty by leaving the whole passage of the river clear of the incumbrance of piers... my first design in the wooden model was for a bridge over the harlem river, for my good friend general morris of morrisania... but i cannot help thinking that it might be carried across the schuylkill.... mr. hall, who has been with me at borden town, and has done the chief share of the working part, for we have done the whole ourselves, will inform you of any circumstance relating to it which does not depend on the mathematical construction. mr. hall will undertake to see the models brought safe from the stage boat to you; they are too large to be admitted into the house, but will stand very well in the garden. should there be a vessel going round to new york within about a week after my arrival in philadelphia i shall take that convenience for sending them there, at which place i hope to be in about a fortnight." address and date not given; written in philadelphia, probably in june.--"honorable sir,--i have sent to his excellency, the president [franklin] two models for a bridge, the one of wood the other of cast-iron bars, to be erected over rivers, without piers. as i shall in a few days go to new york, and take them with me, i do myself the honor of presenting an invitation to council to take a view of them before they are removed. if it is convenient to council to see and examine their construction to-day, at the usual time of their adjournment, i will attend at the president's at half after twelve o'clock, or any other day or hour council may please to appoint."' * this and the two letters preceding are among the franklin mss. in the philosophical society, philadelphia. to the hon. thomas fitzsimmons; addressed "to be left at the bank, philadelphia." written at borden town, november th.--"i write you a few loose thoughts as they occur to me. next to the gaining a majority is that of keeping it this, at least (in my opinion), will not be best accomplished by doing or attempting a great deal of business, but by doing no more than is absolutely necessary to be done, acting moderately and giving no offence. it is with the whole as it is with the members individually, and we always see at every new election that it is more difficult to turn out an old member against whom no direct complaint can be made than it is to put in a new one though a better man. i am sure it will be best not to touch any part of the plan of finance this year. if it falls short, as most probably it will, it would be (i speak for myself) best to reduce the interest that the whole body of those who are stiled public creditors may share it equally as far as it will go. if any thing can be saved from the civil list expences it ought not to be finally mortgaged to make up the deficiency; it may be applied to bring the creditors to a balance for the present year. there is more to be said respecting this debt than has yet been said. the matter has never been taken up but by those who were interested in the matter. the public has been deficient and the claimants exorbitant--neglect on one side and greediness on the other. that which is truly justice may be always advocated. but i could no more think of paying six per cent interest in real money, in perpetuity, for a debt a great part of which is quondam than i could think of not paying at all. six per cent on any part of the debt, even to the original holders is ten or twelve per cent, and to the speculators twenty or thirty or more. it is better that the matter rest until it is fuller investigated and better understood, for in its present state it will be hazardous to touch upon. "i have not heard a word of news from philadelphia since i came to this place. i wrote a line to mr. francis and desired him to give me a little account of matters but he does not, perhaps, think it very necessary now. "i see by the papers that the subject of the bank is likely to be renewed. i should like to know when it will come on, as i have some thought of coming down at that time, if i can. "i see by the papers that the agricultural society have presented a petition to the house respecting building a bridge over the schuylkill--on a model prepared for that purpose. in this i think they are too hasty. i have already constructed a model of a bridge of cast iron, consisting of one arch. i am now making another of wrought iron of one arch, but on a different plan. i expect to finish it in about three weeks and shall send it first to philadelphia. i have no opinion of any bridge over the schuylkill that is to be erected on piers--the sinking of piers will sink more money than they have any idea of and will not stand when done. but there is another point they have not taken into their consideration; which is, that the sinking three piers in the middle of the river, large and powerful enough to resist the ice, will cause such an alteration in the bed and channel of the river that there is no saying what course it may take, or whether it will not force a new channel somewhere else."* * i am indebted for this letter to mr. simon grata of philadelphia. to george clymer, esquire, "to be left at the bank, philadelphia." written at bordentown, november th.--"i observe by the minutes that the agricultural society have presented a petition to the house for an act of incorporation for the purpose of erecting a bridge over the schuylkill on a model in their possession. i hope this business will not be gone into too hastily. a bridge on piers will never answer for that river, they may sink money but they never will sink piers that will stand. but admitting that the piers do stand--they will cause such an alteration in the bed and channel of the river, as will most probable alter its course either to divide the channel, and require two bridges or cause it to force a new channel in some other part. it is a matter of more hazard than they are aware of the altering by obstructions the bed and channel of a river; the water must go somewhere--the force of the freshets and the ice is very great now but will be much greater then. "i am finishing as fast as i can my new model of an iron bridge of one arch which if it answers, as i have no doubt but it will, the whole difficulty of erecting bridges over that river, or others of like circumstances, will be removed, and the expense not greater, (and i believe not so great) as the sum mentioned by mr. morris in the house, and i am sure will stand four times as long or as much longer as iron is more durable than wood. i mention these circumstances to you that you may be informed of them--and not let the matter proceed so far as to put the agricultural society in a difficult situation at last. "the giving a society the exclusive right to build a bridge, unless the plan is prepared before hand, will prevent a bridge being built; because those who might afterwards produce models preferable to their own, will not present them to any such body of men, and they can have no right to take other peoples labours or inventions to compleat their own undertakings by. "i have not heard any news since i came to this place. i wish you would give me a line and let me know how matters are going on.--the stage boat comes to borden town every wednesday and sunday from the crooked billet wharf."* { } at the close of the war paine was eager to visit england. he speaks of it in his letter of june , , to elias boudinot, already referred to--but he had not the means. the measures for his remuneration had delayed him two and a half years, and it now became imperative that he should put in a fair way of success his invention of the bridge. the models made a good impression on franklin and the council, and a committee was appointed to investigate it. early in the year following the pennsylvania assembly appointed another committee. but meanwhile paine's correspondence with his parents determined him to visit them at once, and look after the interests of his invention upon his return.** he no doubt also thought, and it may have been suggested by franklin, that the success of his bridge would be assured in america and england if it should receive approval of the engineers in france. in march, , he is in philadelphia, consulting committees, and on the st writes to franklin of his prospects and plans: * for this letter i am indebted to mr. charles roberts, of philadelphia. ** it is known that he received an affectionate letter from his father, now in his th year, but it has not been found, and was probably burned with the bonneville papers in st. louis. "i mentioned in one of my essays my design of going this spring to europe.--i intend landing in france and from thence england,--and that i should take the model with me. the time i had fixed with myself was may, but understanding (since i saw you yesterday) that no french packet sails that month, i must either take the april packet or wait till june. as i can get ready by the april packet i intend not omitting the opportunity. my father and mother are yet living, whom i am very anxious to see, and have informed them of my coming over the ensuing summer. "i propose going from hence by the stage on wednesday for new york, and shall be glad to be favoured with the care of any letters of yours to france or england. my stay in paris, when with col. laurens, was so short that i do not feel myself introduced there, for i was in no house but at passy, and the hotel col. laurens was at. as i have taken a part in the revolution and politics of this country, and am not an unknown character in the political world, i conceive it would be proper on my going to paris, that i should pay my respects to count vergennes, to whom i am personally unknown; and i shall be very glad of a letter from you to him affording me that opportunity, or rendering my waiting on him easy to me; for it so often happens that men live to forfeit the reputation at one time they gained at another, that it is prudent not to presume too much on one's self. the marquis la fayette i am the most known to of any gentleman in france. should he be absent from paris there are none i am much acquainted with. i am on exceeding good terms with mr. jefferson which will necessarily be the first place i go to. as i had the honor of your introduction to america it will add to my happiness to have the same friendship continued to me on the present occasion. "respecting the model, i shall be obliged to you for a letter to some of the commissioners in that department. i shall be glad to hear their opinion of it if they will undertake the experiment of two ribs, it will decide the matter and promote the work here,--but this need not be mentioned. the assembly have appointed another committee, consisting of mr. morris, mr. clymer, mr. fitzsimons, mr. wheeler, mr. robinson, to confer with me on the undertaking. the matter therefore will remain suspended till my return next winter. it is worth waiting this event, because if a single arch to that extent will answer, all difficulties in that river, or others of the same condition, are overcome at once. i will do myself the pleasure of waiting on you tomorrow." during the time when paine was perfecting his bridge, and consulting the scientific committees, the country was absorbed with preparations for forming a national constitution and union. when the states were nominating and electing delegates to the convention of , no one seems to have suggested paine for a seat in it, nor does he appear to have aspired to one. the reasons are not far to seek. paine was altogether too inventive for the kind of work contemplated by the colonial politicians. he had shown in all his writings, especially in his "dissertations on government," that he would build a constitution as he built his bridge: it must be mathematical, founded and shaped in impregnable principles, means adopted and adapted strictly for an ideal national purpose. his iron span did not consider whether there might be large interests invested in piers, or superstitions in favor of oak; as little did his anti-slavery essays consider the investments in slavery, or his "public good" on the jealous sovereignty of states. a recent writer says that paine's "common sense" was "just what the moment demanded," and that it "may be briefly described as a plea for independence and a continental government."* in setting the nation at once to a discussion of the principles of such government, he led it to assume the principle of independence; over the old english piers on their quicksands, which some would rebuild, he threw his republican arch, on which the people passed from shore to shore. he and franklin did the like in framing the pennsylvania constitution of , by which the chasm of "toryism" was spanned. * "the development of constitutional liberty in the english colonies of america," by eben greenough scott, . every pamphlet of paine was of the nature of an invention, by which principles of liberty and equality were framed in constructions adapted to emergencies of a republic. but when the emergencies were past, the old contrivances regained their familiar attractions, and these were enhanced by independence. privilege, so odious in lords, was not so bad when inherited by democracy; individual sovereignty, unsuited to king george, might be a fine thing for president george; and if england had a house of peers, why should we not make one out of a peerage of states? "our experience in republicanism," wrote paine, "is yet so slender, that it is much to be doubted whether all our public laws and acts are consistent with, or can be justified on, the principles of a republican government." but the more he talked in this way, or reminded the nation of the "declaration of independence" and the "bill of rights," the more did he close the doors of the constitutional convention against himself. in those days there used to meet in franklin's library a "society for political inquiries." it had forty-two members, among them washington, james wilson, robert morris, gouverneur morris, clymer, rush, bingham, bradford, hare, rawle, and paine. a memorandum of rawle says: "paine never opened his mouth, but he furnished one of the few essays which the members of the society were expected to produce. it was a well written dissertation on the inexpediency of incorporating towns."* that in such company, and at such a time, paine should be silent, or discuss corporations, suggests political solitude. franklin, indeed, agreed with him, but was too old to struggle against the reaction in favor of the bicameral and other english institutions. * "memoir of penn. hist. soc, ." the gist of paine's paper (read apr. , ) is no doubt contained in "the rights of man," part ii., ch. . m. chanut ("nouv. biog. générale") says that paine's bridge was not erected on the schuylkill because of "the imperfect state of iron manufacture in america." something of the same kind might be said of the state of political architecture. and so it was, that while the convention was assembling in independence hall, he who first raised the standard of independence, and before the declaration proposed a charter of the "united colonies of america," was far out at sea on his way to rejoin his comrades in the old world, whose hearts and burdens he had represented in the new. the printed rules of the society (founded february , ) are in the philosophical society, philadelphia. the preamble, plainly paine's, says: "important as these inquiries are to all, to the inhabitants of these republics they are objects of peculiar magnitude and necessity. accustomed to look up to those nations, from whom we have derived our origin, for our laws, our opinions, and our manners, we have retained with undistinguishing reverence their errors, with their improvements; have blended with our public institutions the policy of dissimilar countries; and have grafted on our infant commonwealth the manners of ancient and corrupted monarchies. in having effected a separate government, we have as yet effected but a partial independence. the revolution can only be said to be compleat, when we shall have freed ourselves, no less from the influence of foreign prejudices than from the fetters of foreign power." chapter xvi. returning to the old home even now one can hardly repress regret that paine did not remain in his beloved bordentown. there he was the honored man; his striking figure, decorated with the noblest associations, was regarded with pride; when he rode the lanes on his horse button, the folk had a pleasant word with him; the best homes prized his intimacy, and the young ladies would sometimes greet the old gentleman with a kiss. from all this he was drawn by the tender letter of a father he was never to see again. he sailed in april for a year's absence; he remained away fifteen,--if such years may be reckoned by calendar. the french packet from new york had a swift voyage, and early in the summer paine was receiving honors in paris. franklin had given him letters of introduction, but he hardly needed them.* he was already a hero of the progressives, who had relished his artistic dissection of the abbé raynal's disparagement of the american revolution. among those who greeted him was auberteuil, whose history of the american revolution paine had corrected, an early copy having been sent him ( ) by franklin for that purpose. * "this letter goes by mr. paine, one of our principal writers at the revolution, being the author of 'common sense,' a pamphlet that had prodigious effects."--franklin to m. de veillard. but paine's main object in france was to secure a verdict from the academy of sciences, the supreme authority, on his bridge, a model of which he carried with him. the academy received him with the honors due to an m.a. of the university of pennsylvania, a member of the philosophical society, and a friend of franklin. it appointed m. leroy, m. bossou, and m. borda a committee to report on his bridge, on august th he writes to jefferson, then minister in paris: "i am much obliged to you for the book you are so kind to send me. the second part of your letter, concerning taking my picture, i must feel as an honor done to me, not as a favour asked of me--but in this, as in other matters, i am at the disposal of your friendship. "the committee have among themselves finally agreed on their report; i saw this morning it will be read in the academy on wednesday. the report goes pretty fully to support the principles of the construction, with their reasons for that opinion." on august th, a cheery letter had gone to george clymer in philadelphia, in which he says: "this comes by mr. derby, of massachusetts, who leaves paris to-day to take shipping at l' [orient] for boston. the enclosed for dr. franklin is from his friend mr. le roy, of the academy of sciences, respecting the bridge, and the causes that have delayed the completing report. an arch of or hundred feet is such an unprecedented thing, and will so much attract notice in the northern part of europe, that the academy is cautious in what manner to express their final opinion. it is, i find, their custom to give reasons for their opinion, and this embarrasses them more than the opinion itself. that the model is strong, and that a bridge constructed on the same principles will also be strong, they appear to be well agreed in, but to what particular causes to assign the strength they are not agreed in. the committee was directed by the academy to examine all the models and plans for iron bridges that had been proposed in france, and they unanimously gave the preference to our own, as being the simplest, strongest, and lightest. they have likewise agreed on some material points."* dr. robinet says that on this visit ( ) paine, who had long known the "soul of the people," came into relation with eminent men of all groups, philosophical and political,--condorcet, achille duchâtelet, cardinal de brienne, and, he believes, also danton, who, like the english republican, was a freemason.** this intercourse, adds the same author, enabled him to print in england his remarkable prophecy concerning the change going on in the french mind. dr. robinet quotes from a pamphlet presently noticed, partly written in paris during this summer. although it was paine's grievous destiny soon to be once more a revolutionary figure, it is certain that he had returned to europe as an apostle of peace and good-will. while the engineers were considering his daring scheme of an iron arch of five hundred feet, he was devising with the cardinal minister, de brienne, a bridge of friendship across the channel. * for this letter i am indebted to mr. curtis guild, of boston. the letter goes on to describe, with drawings, the famous bridge at schaffhausen, built by grubenmann, an uneducated carpenter, the model being shown paine by the king's architect, perronet. the academy's committee presently made its report, which was even more favorable than paine had anticipated. ** "danton emigré," p. . paine wrote a brief archaeological treatise on freemasonry, but i have not met with the statement that he was a freemason except in dr. robinet's volume,--certainly high authority. he drew up a paper in this sense, on which the minister wrote and signed his approval. the bridge-model approved by the academy he sent to sir joseph banks, president of the royal society; the proposal for friendship between france and england, approved by the cardinal minister, he carried by his own hand to edmund burke. on his arrival in london paine gave to the printer a manuscript on which he had been engaged, and straightway went to thetford.* his father had died the year before. his mother, now in her ninety-first year, he found in the comfort his remittances had supplied. the house, with its large garden, stands in guildhall (then heathen-man) street. i was politely shown through it by its present occupant, mr. brett mr. stephen old-man, sr., who went to school in the house, told me that it was identified by "old jack whistler," a barber, as the place where he went to shave paine, in . at this time paine settled on his mother an allowance of nine shillings per week, which in the thetford of that period was ample for her comfort. during this autumn with his mother he rarely left her side. as she lived to be ninety-four it may be that he sat beside her in the quaker meeting-house, to which she had become attached in her latter years. * the exact time of his arrival in england is doubtful. oldys says: "he arrived at the white bear, picadilly, on the d of september, , just thirteen years after his departure for philadelphia." writing in paine also says it was in september. but his "rubicon" pamphlet is dated "york street, st. james's square, th august, ." possibly the manuscript was dated in paris and forwarded to the london printer with the address at which he wished to find proof on his arrival. ** st. cuthbert's register: "burials, . joseph payne (a quaker) aged years. november th." eloquent and pathetic must have been the silence around the gray man when, after so many tempests, he sat once more in the little meeting-house where his childhood was nurtured. from this, his spiritual cradle, he had borne away a beautiful theory, in ignorance of the contrasted actuality. theoretically the society of friends is a theocracy; the spirit alone rules and directs, effacing all distinctions of rank or sex. as a matter of fact, one old quaker, or the clerk of a meeting, often overrules the "inner lights" of hundreds. of the practical working of quaker government paine had no experience; he had nothing to check his ideal formed in boyhood. his whole political system is explicable only by his theocratic quakerism. his first essay, the plea for negro emancipation, was brought from thetford meeting-house. his "common sense," a new-world scripture, is a "testimony" against the proud who raised their paltry dignities above the divine presence in the lowliest "but where, say some, is the king of america? i 'll tell you, friend, he reigns above." paine's love of his adopted country was not mere patriotism; he beheld in it the land of promise for all mankind, seen from afar while on his thetford pisgah. therefore he made so much of the various races in america. "the mere independence of america, were it to have been followed by a system of government modelled after the corrupt system of the english government, would not have interested me with the unabated ardour that it did. it was to bring forward and establish the representative system of government that was the leading principle with me." so he spake to congress, and to its president he said that he would have done the same for any country as for america. the religious basis of his political system has a droll illustration in an anecdote of his early life told by himself. while bowling with friends at lewes, mr. verril remarked that frederick of prussia "was the best fellow in the world for a king; he had so much of the devil in him." it struck paine that "if it were necessary for a king to have so much of the devil in him, kings might very beneficially be dispensed with." from this time he seems to have developed a theory of human rights based on theocracy; and so genuinely that in america, while the bible was still to him the word of god, he solemnly proposed, in the beginning of the revolution, that a crown should be publicly laid on that book, to signify to the world that "in america the law is king." while in america the states were discussing the constitution proposed by the convention, paine sat in the silent meeting at thetford dreaming of the parliament of man, and federation of the world. in america the dawn of the new nation was a splendor, but it paled the ideals that had shone through the night of struggle. the principles of the declaration, which would have freed every slave,--representation proportionate to population, so essential to equality, the sovereignty of justice instead of majorities or of states,--had become "glittering generalities." the first to affirm the principles of the declaration, paine awaited the unsummoned convention that would not compromise any of them away. for politicians these lofty ideas might be extinguished by the rising of a national sun; but in paine there remained the deep quaker well where the stars shone on through the garish day.* seated in the quaker meeting-house beside his mother, and beside his father's fresh grave, paine revises the past while revising the proofs of his pamphlet. the glamor of war, even of the american revolution, fades; the shudder with which he saw in childhood soldiers reeking from the massacres of culloden and inverness returns; he begins his new career in the old world with a "testimony" against war.** * "in wells where truth in secret lay he saw the midnight stars by day."--w. d. howells. ** "prospects on the rubicon; or, an investigation into the causes and consequences of the politics to be agitated at the meeting of parliament." london, . pp. . "when we consider, for the feelings of nature cannot be dismissed, the calamities of war and the miseries it inflicts upon the human species, the thousands and tens of thousands of every age and sex who are rendered wretched by the event, surely there is something in the heart of man that calls upon him to think! surely there is some tender chord, tuned by the hand of the creator, that still struggles to emit in the hearing of the soul a note of sorrowing sympathy. let it then be heard, and let man learn to feel that the true greatness of a nation is founded on principles of humanity.... war involves in its progress such a train of unforeseen and unsupposed circumstances, such a combination of foreign matters, that no human wisdom can calculate the end. it has but one thing certain, and that is to increase taxes.... i defend the cause of the poor, of the manufacturer, of the tradesman, of the farmer, and of all those on whom the real burthen of taxes fall--but above all, i defend the cause of humanity." so little did paine contemplate or desire revolution in england or france. his exhortation to young pitt is to avoid war with holland, to be friendly with france, to shun alliances involving aid in war, and to build up the wealth and liberties of england by uniting the people with the throne. he has discovered that this healthy change is going on in france. the french people are allying "the majesty of the sovereign with the majesty of the nation." "of all alliances this is infinitely the strongest and the safest to be trusted to, because the interest so formed and operating against external enemies can never be divided." freedom doubles the value of the subject to the government when the desire of freedom becomes universal among the people, then, "and not before, is the important moment for the most effectual consolidation of national strength and greatness." the government must not be frightened by disturbances incidental to beneficent changes. "the creation we enjoy arose out of a chaos."* * the pamphlet was reprinted in london in under the title: "prospects on the war, and paper currency. the second edition, corrected." advertisement (june th): "this pamphlet was written by mr. paine in the year , on one of mr. pitt's armaments, namely, that against holland. his object was to prevent the people of england from being seduced into a war, by stating clearly to them the consequences which would inevitably befall the credit of this country should such a calamity take place. the minister has at length, however, succeeded in his great project, after three expensive armaments within the space of seven years; and the event has proved how well founded were the predictions of mr. paine. the person who has authority to bring forward this pamphlet in its present shape, thinks his doing so a duty which he owes both to mr. p------ and the people of england, in order that the latter may judge what credit is due to (what a great judge calls) the wild theories of mr. paine." paine had seen a good deal of jefferson in paris, and no doubt their conversation often related to struggles in the constitutional convention at philadelphia. jefferson wished the constitution to include a declaration of rights, and wrote paine some comments on the argument of james wilson (afterward of the supreme court), maintaining that such a declaration was unnecessary in a government without any powers not definitely granted, and that such a declaration might be construed to imply some degree of power over the matters it defined. wilson's speeches, powerfully analyzing the principles of liberty and federation, were delivered on october th and november th, and it will appear by the subjoined paper that they were more in accord with paine's than with jefferson's principles. the manuscript, which is among jefferson's papers, bears no date, but was no doubt written at thetford early in the year . { } "after i got home, being alone and wanting amusement, i sat down to explain to myself (for there is such a thing) my ideas of national and civil rights, and the distinction between them. i send them to you to see how nearly we agree. "suppose twenty persons, strangers to each other, to meet in a country not before inhabited. each would be a sovereign in his own natural right. his will would be his law, but his power, in many cases, inadequate to his right; and the consequence would be that each might be exposed, not only to each other, but to the other nineteen. it would then occur to them that their condition would be much improved, if a way could be devised to exchange that quantity of danger into so much protection; so that each individual should possess the strength of the whole number. as all their rights in the first case are natural rights, and the exercise of those rights supported only by their own natural individual power, they would begin by distinguishing between those rights they could individually exercise, fully and perfectly, and those they could not. of the first kind are the rights of thinking, speaking, forming and giving opinions, and perhaps are those which can be fully exercised by the individual without the aid of exterior assistance; or in other words, rights of personal competency. of the second kind are those of personal protection, of acquiring and possessing property, in the exercise of which the individual natural power is less than the natural right. "having drawn this line they agree to retain individually the first class of rights, or those of personal competency; and to detach from their personal possession the second class, or those of defective power, and to accept in lieu thereof a right to the whole power produced by a condensation of all the parts. these i conceive to be civil rights, or rights of compact, and are distinguishable from natural rights because in the one we act wholly in our own person, in the other we agree not to do so, but act under the guarantee of society. "it therefore follows that the more of those imperfect natural rights or rights of imperfect power we give up, and thus exchange, the more security we possess; and as the word liberty is often mistakenly put for security, mr. wilson has confused his argument by confounding the terms. but it does not follow that the more natural rights of _every kind_ we assign the more security we possess, because if we resign those of the first class we may suffer much by the exchange; for where the right and the power are equal with each other in the individual, naturally, they ought to rest there. "mr. wilson must have some allusion to this distinction, or his position would be subject to the inference you draw from it. "i consider the individual sovereignty of the states retained under the act of confederation to be of the second class of right. it becomes dangerous because it is defective in the power necessary to support it. it answers the pride and purpose of a few men in each state, but the state collectively is injured by it." the paper just quoted may be of importance to those students of yale college who shall compete for the ten eyck prize of , on the interesting subject, "thomas paine: deism and democracy in the days of the american revolution." there was no nearer approach to democracy, in paine's theory, than that of this paper sent to jefferson. the constitutional convention represented to him the contracting people, all the individuals being parties to a compact whereby every majority pledges itself to protect the minority in matters not essential to the security of all. in representative government thus limited by compact he recognized the guaranty of individual freedom and influence by which the mass could be steadily enlightened. royall tyler considered some of his views on these subjects "whimsical paradoxes"; but they are not so "unaccountable" as he supposed. tyler's portraiture of paine in london, though somewhat adapted to prejudices anent "the age of reason," is graphic, and paine's anti-democratic paradox wittily described. "i met this interesting personage at the lodgings of the son of a late patriotic american governour [trumbull]... he was dressed in a snuff-coloured coat, olive velvet vest, drab breeches, coarse hose. his shoe buckles of the size of a half dollar. a bob tailed wig covered that head which worked such mickle woe to courts and kings. if i should attempt to describe it, it would be in the same stile and principle with which the veteran soldier bepraiseth an old standard: the more tattered, the more glorious. it is probable that this was the same identical wig under the shadow of whose curls he wrote common sense, in america, many years before. he was a spare man, rather under size; subject to the extreme of low, and highly exhilirating spirits; often sat reserved in company; seldom mingled in common chit chat: but when a man of sense and elocution was present, and the company numerous, he delighted in advancing the most unaccountable, and often the most whimsical paradoxes; which he defended in his own plausible manner. if encouraged by success, or the applause of the company, his countenance was animated with an expression of feature which, on ordinary occasions one would look for in vain, in a man so much celebrated for acuteness of thought; but if interrupted by extraneous observation, by the inattention of his auditory, or in an irritable moment, even by the accidental fall of the poker, he would retire into himself, and no persuasion could induce him to proceed upon the most favourite topic.... i heard thomas paine once assert in the presence of mr. wolcott, better known, in this country, by the facetious name of peter pindar, that the minority, in all deliberative bodies, ought, in all cases, to govern the majority. peter smiled. you must grant me, said uncommon sense, that the proportion of men of sense, to the ignorant among mankind, is at least as twenty, thirty, or even forty-nine, to an hundred. the majority of mankind are consequently most prone to errour; and if we atchieve the right, the minority ought in all cases to govern. peter continued to smile archly."* * "the algerine captive," . (paine's shoe-buckles in the national museum, washington, are of the fashionable kind.) in the end this theory was put to a vote of the company present, and all arose with paine except peter pindar, who thereupon said, "i am the wise minority who ought, in all cases, to govern your ignorant majority." chapter xvii. a british lion with an american heart the influence of paine's quaker training has been traced in his constructive politics, but its repressive side had more perhaps to do with his career. "i had some turn," he said, "and i believe some talent, for poetry; but this i rather repressed than encouraged." it is your half-repressed poets that kindle revolutions. history might be different had paine not been taught fear of music and poetry. he must have epical commonwealths. the american republic having temporarily filled his ideal horizon in the political direction, the disguised muse turned his eye upon the possibilities of nature. morally utilitarian, he yet rarely writes about physics without betraying the poetic passion for nature of a suppressed wordsworth. nature is his aphrodite and his madonna. "bred up in antediluvian notions, she has not yet acquired the european taste of receiving visitors in her dressing-room; she locks and bolts up her private recesses with extraordinary care, as if not only resolved to preserve her hoards but conceal her age, and hide the remains of a face that was young and lovely in the days of adam." defining for jefferson the distinction between attraction and cohesion, he says: "i recollect a scene at one of the theatres which very well explains the difference. a condemned lady wishes to see her child and the child its mother: that is attraction. they were admitted to meet, but when ordered to part threw their arms around each other and fastened their persons together: this is cohesion." all the atoms or molecules are little mothers and daughters and lovers clasping each other; it is an interlocking of figures; "and if our eyes were good enough we should see how it was done." he has a transcendental perception of unity in things dissimilar. on his walks to challiot he passes trees and fountains, and writes a little essay, with figures, explaining to his friend that the tree is also a fountain, and that by measuring diameters of trunks and tubes, or branches, the quantity of timber thrown up by sap-fountains might be known. some of his casual speculations he calls "conceits." they are the exuberance of a scientific imagination inspired by philanthropy and naturalistic religion. the "inner light" of man corresponds to an "inner spirit" of nature. the human mind dimmed by ignorance, perverted by passion, turns the very gifts of nature to thorns, amid which her divine beauty sleeps until awakened by the kiss of science. it would be difficult to find anything in the literature of mechanical invention more naively picturesque than this quaker, passed through furnaces of two revolutions, trying to humanize gunpowder. here is a substance with maximum of power and minimum of bulk and weight. "when i consider the wisdom of nature i must think that she endowed matter with this extraordinary property for other purposes than that of destruction. poisons are capable of other uses than that of killing. if the power which an ounce of gunpowder contains could be detailed out as steam or water can be it would be a most commodious natural power." having failed to convert revolutions to quakerism, paine tries to soften the heart of gunpowder itself, and insists that its explosiveness may be restrained and detailed like strokes on a boy's top to obtain continual motion. the sleeping top, the chastened repose of perfect motion, like the quiet of the spinning worlds, is the quaker inventor's ideal, and he begs the president of the united states to try the effect of the smallest pistol made--the size of a quill--on a wheel with peripheral cups to receive the discharges.* * i am reluctantly compelled to give only the main ideas of several theses of this kind by paine, found among jefferson's papers. the portion of the "jefferson papers" at washington written by paine would fill a good volume. "the biographers of paine," wrote his friend, joel barlow, "should not forget his mathematical acquirements and his mechanical genius." but it would require a staff of specialists, and a large volume, to deal with paine's scientific studies and contrivances--with his planing machine, his new crane, his smokeless candle, his wheel of concentric rim, his scheme for using gunpowder as a motor, above all his iron bridge. as for the bridge, paine feels that it is a sort of american revolution carried into mechanics; his eagle cannot help spreading a little in the wondering eyes of the old world. "great scenes inspire great ideas," he writes to sir george staunton. "the natural mightiness of america expands the mind, and it partakes of the greatness it contemplates. even the war, with all its evils, had some advantages. it energized invention and lessened the catalogue of impossibilities. at the conclusion of it every man returned to his home to repair the ravages it had occasioned, and to think of war no more. as one amongst thousands who had borne a share in that memorable revolution, i returned with them to the re-enjoyment of quiet life, and, that i might not be idle, undertook to construct a single arch for this river [schuylkill]. our beloved general had engaged in rendering another river, the potowmac, navigable. the quantity of iron i had allowed in my plan for this arch was five hundred and twenty tons, to be distributed into thirteen ribs, in commemoration of the thirteen united states." it is amusing after this to find paine, in his patent, declaring his special license from "his most excellent majesty king george the third."* had poor george been in his right senses, or ever heard of the invention, he might have suspected some connection between this insurrection of the iron age and the american "rebellion." however, paine is successful in keeping america out of his specification, albeit a poetic touch appears. * "no. . specification of thomas paine. constructing arches. vaulted roofs, and ceilings." the specification, dated august , , declares his invention to be "on principles new and different to anything hitherto practised." the patents for england, scotland, and ireland were granted in september. an iron arch of one hundred feet was designed by pritchard and erected by darby at coalbrook dale, shropshire, in , but it did not anticipate the invention of paine, as may be seen by the article on "iron bridges" in the encyclopaedia britannica, which also well remarks that paine's "daring in engineering does full justice to the fervour of his political career." (eighth edition; it is omitted in the ninth.) "the idea and construction of this arch is taken from the figure of a spider's circular web, of which it resembles a section, and from a conviction that when nature empowered this insect to make a web she also instructed her in the strongest mechanical method of constructing it. another idea, taken from nature in the construction of this arch, is that of increasing the strength of matter by dividing and combining it, and thereby causing it to act over a larger space than it would occupy in a solid state, as is seen in the quills of birds, bones of animals, reeds, canes, &c. the curved bars of the arch are composed of pieces of any length joined together to the whole extent of the arch, and take curvature by bending." paine and his bridge came to england at a fortunate moment. blackfriars bridge had just given way, and two over the tyne, one built by smeaton, had collapsed by reason of quicksands under their piers. and similarly pitt's policy was collapsing through the treacherous quicksands on which it was based. paper money and a "sinking fund" at home, and foreign alliances that disregarded the really controlling interests of nations, paine saw as piers set in the channel.* he at once took his place in england as a sort of institution. while the engineers beheld with admiration his iron arch clearing the treacherous river-beds, statesmen saw with delight his prospective bridges spanning the political "rubicon." nothing could be more felicitous than the title of his inaugural pamphlet, "prospects on the rubicon." it remembered an expression in parliament at the beginning of the war on america. "'the rubicon is passed,' was once given as a reason for prosecuting the most expensive war that england ever knew. sore with the event, and groaning beneath a galling yoke of taxes, she has again been led ministerially on to the shore of the same delusive and fatal river." the bridge-builder stretches his shining arches to france, holland, germany,--free commerce and friendship with all peoples, but no leagues with the sinking piers called thrones. * it is droll to find even paine's iron bridge resting somewhat on a "paper "pier. "perhaps," he writes jefferson, "the excess of paper currency, and the wish to find objects for realizing it, is one of the motives for promoting the plan of the bridge." at rotherham, in yorkshire, where messrs. walker fitted up a workshop for paine, he was visited by famous engineers and political personages. there and in london he was "lionized," as franklin had been in paris. we find him now passing a week with edmund burke, now at the country-seat of the duke of portland, or enjoying the hospitalities of lord fitzwilliam at wentworth house. he is entertained and consulted on public affairs by fox, lord lansdowne, sir george staunton, sir joseph banks; and many an effort is made to enlist his pen. lord lansdowne, it appears, had a notion of paine's powers of political engineering so sublime that he thought he might bridge the atlantic, and re-connect england and america! all of this may be gathered from the jefferson papers, as we shall presently see; but it should be remarked here that paine's head was not turned by his association with the gentry and aristocracy. the impression he made on these eminent gentlemen was largely due to his freedom from airs. they found him in his workshop, hammer in hand, proud only of free america and of his beautiful arch. professor peter lesley of philadelphia tells me that when visiting in early life the works at rotherham, paine's workshop and the very tools he used were pointed out. they were preserved with care. he conversed with an aged and intelligent workman who had worked under paine as a lad. professor lesley, who had shared some of the prejudice against paine, was impressed by the earnest words of this old man. mr. paine, he said, was the most honest man, and the best man he ever knew. after he had been there a little time everybody looked up to him, the walkers and their workmen. he knew the people for miles round, and went into their homes; his benevolence, his friendliness, his knowledge, made him beloved by all, rich and poor. his memory had always lasted there. { } in truth paine, who had represented the heart of england, in america, was now representing the heart of america to england. america was working by his hand, looking through his eyes, and silently publishing to the people from whom he sprung what the new nation could make out of a starving english staymaker. he was a living declaration of independence. the americans in london--the artists west and trumbull, the alexanders (franklin's connections), and others--were fond of him as a friend and proud of him as a countryman. the subjoined letter to benjamin west (afterwards p. r. a.) shows paine's pleasant relations with that artist and with trumbull. it is dated march , . "i have informed james of the matter which you and i talked of on saturday, and he is much rejoiced at an opportunity of shewing his gratitude to you for the permission you indulged him with in attending mr. trumbull at your rooms. as i have known his parents upwards of twenty years, and the manners and habits he has been educated in, and the disposition he is of, i can with confidence to myself undertake to vouch for the faithful discharge of any trust you may repose in him; and as he is a youth of quick discernment and a great deal of silent observation he cannot be easily imposed upon, or turned aside from his attention, by any contrivance of workmen. i will put him in a way of keeping a diary of every day's work he sees done, and of any observations he may make, proper for you to be informed of, which he can send once or twice a week to you at windsor; and any directions you may have to give him in your absence can be conveyed through mr. trumbull, or what other method you please, so that james is certified they come from you. "james has made a tender of his service to mr. trumbull, if it should be of any use, when his picture is to be exhibited; but that will probably not be till nearly the time the impressions will be struck off. james need not entirely omit his drawing while he is attending the plates. some employment will, in general, fix a person to a place better than having only to stand still and look on. i suppose they strike off about three impressions in an hour, and as james is master of a watch he will find their average of works,--and also how fast they can work when they have a mind to make haste,--and he can easily number each impression, which will be a double check on any being carried off. i intend visiting him pretty often, while he is on duty, which will be an additional satisfaction to yourself for the trust you commit to him." this chapter may well close with a letter from paine in london (january , ) to his young friend "kitty nicholson,"--known at the borden-town school, and in new york,--on the occasion of her marriage with colonel few.** let those who would know the real thomas paine read this letter! * i have not been able to find anything more of paine's protege james, whose parents were known to him before his departure for american. i am indebted to mr. w. e. benjamin for the letter. ** to a representative of this family i am indebted for the letter. concerning the nicholsons, see page . "i sincerely thank you for your very friendly and welcome letter. i was in the country when it arrived and did not receive it soon enough to answer it by the return of the vessel. "i very affectionately congratulate mr. and mrs. few on their happy marriage, and every branch of the families allied by that connection; and i request my fair correspondent to present me to her partner, and to say, for me, that he has obtained one of the highest prizes on the wheel. besides the pleasure which your letter gives me to hear you are all happy and well, it relieves me from a sensation not easy to be dismissed; and if you will excuse a few dull thoughts for obtruding themselves into a congratulatory letter i will tell you what it is. when i see my female friends drop off by matrimony i am sensible of something that affects me like a loss in spite of all the appearances of joy. i cannot help mixing the sincere compliment of regret with that of congratulation. it appears as if i had outlived or lost a friend. it seems to me as if the original was no more, and that which she is changed to forsakes the circle and forgets the scenes of former society. felicities are cares superior to those she formerly cared for, create to her a new landscape of life that excludes the little friendships of the past. it is not every lady's mind that is sufficiently capacious to prevent those greater objects crowding out the less, or that can spare a thought to former friendships after she has given her hand and heart to the man who loves her. but the sentiment your letter contains has prevented these dull ideas from mixing with the congratulation i present you, and is so congenial with the enlarged opinion i have always formed of you, that at the time i read your letter with pleasure i read it with pride, because it convinces me that i have some judgment in that most difficult science--a lady's mind. most sincerely do i wish you all the good that heaven can bless you with, and as you have in your own family an example of domestic happiness you are already in the knowledge of obtaining it. that no condition we can enjoy is an exemption from care--that some shade will mingle itself with the brightest sunshine of life--that even our affections may become the instruments of our sorrows--that the sweet felicities of home depend on good temper as well as on good sense, and that there is always something to forgive even in the nearest and dearest of our friends,--are truths which, tho' too obvious to be told, ought never to be forgotten; and i know you will not esteem my friendship the less for impressing them upon you. "though i appear a sort of wanderer, the married state has not a sincerer friend than i am. it is the harbour of human life, and is, with respect to the things of this world, what the next world is to this. it is home; and that one word conveys more than any other word can express. for a few years we may glide along the tide of youthful single life and be wonderfully delighted; but it is a tide that flows but once, and what is still worse, it ebbs faster than it flows, and leaves many a hapless voyager aground. i am one, you see that have experienced the fate, i am describing.* i have lost my tide; it passed by while every thought of my heart was on the wing for the salvation of my dear america, and i have now as contentedly as i can, made myself a little bower of willows on the shore that has the solitary resemblance of a home. should i always continue the tenant of this home, i hope my female acquaintance will ever remember that it contains not the churlish enemy of their sex, not the inaccessible cold hearted mortal, nor the capricious tempered oddity, but one of the best and most affectionate of their friends. * paine's marriage and separation from his wife had been kept a secret in america, where the "tories" would have used it to break the influence of his patriotic writings. it may be stated here, in addition to what is said on p. , that, in the absence of any divorce law in england, a separation under the common law was generally held as pronouncing the marriage a nullity ab initio. according to chalmers paine was dissatisfied with articles of separation drawn up by an attorney, josias smith, may , , and insisted on new ones, to which the clergyman was a party. the "common lawyers" regarded the marriage as completely annulled, and paine thus free to marry again. however, he evidently never thought of doing so, and that his relations with ladies were as chaste as affectionate appears in this letter to mrs. few, and in his correspondence generally. "i did not forget the dunstable hat, but it was not on wear here when i arrived. that i am a negligent correspondent i freely confess, and i always reproach myself for it. you mention only one letter, but i wrote twice; once by dr. derby, and another time by the chevalier st. triss--by whom i also wrote to gen. morris, col. kirkbride, and several friends in philadelphia, but have received no answers. i had one letter from gen. morris last winter, which is all i have received from new york till the arrival of yours. "i thank you for the details of news you give. kiss molly field for me and wish her joy,--and all the good girls of borden town. how is my favorite sally morris, my boy joe, and my horse button? pray let me know. polly and nancy rogers,--are they married? or do they intend to build bowers as i have done? if they do, i wish they would twist their green willows somewhere near to mine. "i am very much engaged here about my bridge--there is one building of my construction at messers. walker's iron works in yorkshire, and i have direction of it. i am lately come from thence and shall return again in two or three weeks. "as to news on this side the water, the king is mad, and there is great bustle about appointing a regent. as it happens, i am in pretty close intimacy with the heads of the opposition--the duke of portland, mr. fox and mr. burke. i have sent your letter to mrs. burke as a specimen of the accomplishments of the american ladies. i sent it to miss alexander, a lady you have heard me speak of, and i asked her to give me a few of her thoughts how to answer it. she told me to write as i felt, and i have followed her advice. "i very kindly thank you for your friendly invitation to georgia and if i am ever within a thousand miles of you, i will come and see you; though it be but for a day. "you touch me on a very tender part when you say my friends on your side the water 'cannot be reconciled to the idea of my resigning my adopted america, even for my native england.' they are right. though i am in as elegant style of acquaintance here as any american that ever came over, my heart and myself are miles apart; and i had rather see my horse button in his own stable, or eating the grass of bordentown or morrisania, than see all the pomp and show of europe. "a thousand years hence (for i must indulge in a few thoughts) perhaps in less, america may be what england now is! the innocence of her character that won the hearts of all nations in her favor may sound like a romance, and her inimitable virtue as if it had never been. the ruins of that liberty which thousands bled for, or suffered to obtain, may just furnish materials for a village tale or extort a sigh from rustic sensibility, while the fashionable of that day, enveloped in dissipation, shall deride the principle and deny the fact. "when we contemplate the fall of empires and the extinction of nations of the ancient world, we see but little to excite our regret than the mouldering ruins of pompous palaces, magnificent monuments, lofty pyramids, and walls and towers of the most costly workmanship. but when the empire of america shall fall, the subject for contemplative sorrow will be infinitely greater than crumbling brass or marble can inspire. it will not then be said, here stood a temple of vast antiquity,--here rose a babel of invisible height, or there a palace of sumptuous extravagance; but here, ah painful thought! the noblest work of human wisdom, the grandest scene of human glory, the fair cause of freedom rose and fell! "read this and then ask if i forget america--but i 'll not be dull if i can help it, so i leave off, and close my letter tomorrow, which is the day the mail is made up for america. "january th. i have heard this morning with extreme concern of the death of our worthy friend capt. read. mrs. read lives in a house of mine at bordentown, and you will much oblige me by telling her how much i am affected by her loss; and to mention to her, with that delicacy which such an offer and her situation require, and which no one knows better how to convey than yourself, that the two years' rent which is due i request her to accept of, and to consider herself at home till she hears further from me. "this is the severest winter i ever knew in england; the frost has continued upwards of five weeks, and is still likely to continue. all the vessels from america have been kept off by contrary winds. the 'polly' and the 'pigeon' from philadelphia and the 'eagle' from charleston are just got in. "if you should leave new york before i arrive (which i hope will not be the case) and should pass through philadelphia, i wish you would do me the favor to present my compliments to mrs. powell, the lady whom i wanted an opportunity to introduce you to when you were in philadelphia, but was prevented by your being at a house where i did not visit. "there is a quaker favorite of mine at new york, formerly miss watson of philadelphia; she is now married to dr. lawrence, and is an acquaintance of mrs. oswald: be so kind as to make her a visit for me. you will like her conversation. she has a little of the quaker primness--but of the pleasing kind--about her. "i am always distressed at closing a letter, because it seems like taking leave of my friends after a parting conversation.--captain nicholson, mrs. nicholson, hannah, fanny, james, and the little ones, and you my dear kitty, and your partner for life--god bless you all! and send me safe back to my much loved america! "thomas paine--aet. . "or if you better like it 'common sense.'" "this comes by the packet which sails from falmouth, miles from london; but by the first vessel from london to new york i will send you some magazines. in the meantime be so kind as to write to me by the first opportunity. remember me to the family at morrisania, and all my friends at new york and bordentown. desire gen. morris to take another guinea of mr. constable, who has some money of mine in his hands, and give it to my boy joe. tell sally to take care of 'button,' then direct for me at mr. peter whiteside's london. when you are at charleston remember me to my dear old friend mrs. lawrence, col. and mrs. l. morris, and col. washington; and at georgia, to col. walton. adieu." chapter xviii. paine's letters to jefferson in paris a note of paine to jefferson, dated february , , shows him in that city consulting with lafayette about his bridge, and preparing a memorial for the government. the visit was no doubt meant to secure a patent, and also arrange for the erection of the bridge. this appears to be his last meeting with jefferson in europe. he must have returned soon to england, where a letter of june th reports to jefferson large progress in his patent, and other arrangements. paine's letters were by no means confined to his personal affairs. in one of his letters jefferson says: "i have great confidence in your communications, and since mr. adams' departure i am in need of authentic information from that country." jefferson subscribes his letters--"i am with great and sincere attachment, dear sir, your affectionate friend and servant,"--and paine responded with wonted fidelity. for more than a year the united states government was supplied by paine, mainly through jefferson, with information concerning affairs in england. it will be seen by some of the subjoined extracts that paine was recognized by english statesmen as a sort of american minister, and that the information he transmits is rarely, if ever, erroneous. all of this would appear more clearly could space be here given to the entire letters. the omissions are chiefly of items of news now without interest, or of technical details concerning the bridge. it is only just to remind the reader, before introducing the quotations, that these letters were confidential, and to a very intimate friend, being thus not liable to any charge of egotism from the public, for whose eye they were not intended. "london, broad street buildings, no. . sept. , .--that i am a bad correspondent is so general a complaint against me, that i must expect the same accusation from you--but hear me first--when there is no matter to write upon, a letter is not worth the trouble of receiving and reading and while any thing which is to be the subject of a letter, is in suspence, it is difficult to write and perhaps best to let it alone--'least said is soonest mended,' and nothing said requires no mending. "the model has the good fortune of preserving in england the reputation which it received from the academy of sciences. it is a favourite hobby horse with all who have seen it; and every one who has talked with me on the subject advised me to endeavour to obtain a patent, as it is only by that means that i can secure to myself the direction and management. for this purpose i went, in company with mr whiteside to the office which is an appendage to lord sydney's--told them who i was, and made an affidavit that the construction was my own invention. this was the only step i took in the business. last wednesday i received a patent for england, the next day a patent for scotland, and i am to have one for ireland. "as i had already the opinion of the scientific judges both in france and england on the model, it was also necessary that i should have that of the practical iron men who must finally be the executors of the work. there are several capital iron works in this country, the principal of which are those in shropshire, yorkshire, and scotland. it was my intention to have communicated with mr. wilkinson, who is one of the proprietors of the shropshire iron works, and concerned in those in france, but his departure for sweden before i had possession of the patents prevented me. the iron works in yorkshire belonging to the walkers near to sheffield are the most eminent in england in point of establishment and property. the proprietors are reputed to be worth two hundred thousand pounds and consequently capable of giving energy to any great undertaking. a friend of theirs who had seen the model wrote to them on the subject, and two of them came to london last fryday to see it and talk with me on the business. their opinion is very decided that it can be executed either in wrought or cast iron, and i am to go down to their works next week to erect an experiment arch. this is the point i am now got to, and until now i had nothing to inform you of. if i succeed in erecting the arch all reasoning and opinion will be at an end, and, as this will soon be known, i shall not return to france till that time; and until then i wish every thing to remain respecting my bridge over the seine, in the state i left matters in when i came from france. with respect to the patents in england it is my intention to dispose of them as soon as i have established the certainty of the construction. "besides the ill success of black friars bridge, two bridges built successively on the same spot, the last by mr smeaton, at hexham, over the tyne in northumberland, have fallen down, occasioned by quicksands under the bed of the river. if therefore arches can be extended in the proportion the model promises, the construction in certain situations, without regard to cheapness or dearness, will be valuable in all countries.... as to english news or politics, there is little more than what the public papers contain. the assembling the states general, and the reappointment of mr. neckar, make considerable impression here. they overawe a great deal of the english habitual rashness, and check that triumph of presumption which they indulged themselves in with respect to what they called the deranged and almost ruinous condition of the finances of france. they acknowledge unreservedly that the natural resources of france are greater than those of england, but they plume themselves on the superiority of the means necessary to bring national resources forth. but the two circumstances above mentioned serve very well to lower this exaltation. "some time ago i spent a week at mr. burke's, and the duke of portland's in buckinghamshire. you will recollect that the duke was the member during the time of the coalition--he is now in the opposition, and i find the opposition as much warped in some respects as to continental politics as the ministry.--what the extent of the treaty with russia is, mr. b[urke] says that he and all the opposition are totally unacquainted with; and they speak of it not as a very wise measure, but rather tending to involve england in unnecessary continental disputes. the preference of the opposition is to a connection with prussia if it could have been obtained. sir george staunton tells me that the interference with respect to holland last year met with considerable opposition from part of the cabinet. mr. pitt was against it at first, but it was a favourite measure with the king, and that the opposition at that crisis contrived to have it known to him that they were disposed to support his measures. this together with the notification of the th of september gave mr. pitt cause and pretence for changing his ground. "the marquis of landsdown is unconnected either with the ministry or the opposition. his politics is distinct from both. this plan is a sort of armed neutrality which has many advocates. in conversation with me he reprobated the conduct of the ministry towards france last year as operating to '_cut the throat of confidence_' (this was his expression) between france and england at a time when there was a fair opportunity of improving it. "the enmity of this country against russia is as bitter as it ever was against america, and is carried to every pitch of abuse and vulgarity. what i hear in conversations exceeds what may be seen in the news-papers. they are sour and mortified at every success she acquires, and voraciously believe and rejoice in the most improbable accounts and rumours to the contrary. you may mention this to mr. simelin on any terms you please for you cannot exceed the fact. "there are those who amuse themselves here in the hopes of managing spain. the notification which the marquis del campo made last year to the british cabinet, is perhaps the only secret kept in this country. mr. b[urke] tells me that the opposition knows nothing of it. they all very freely admit that if the combined fleets had had thirty or forty thousand land forces, when they came up the channel last war, there was nothing in england to oppose their landing, and that such a measure would have been fatal to their resources, by at least a temporary destruction of national credit. this is the point on which this country is most impressible. wars carried on at a distance, they care but little about, and seem always disposed to enter into them. it is bringing the matter home to them that makes them fear and feel, for their weakest part is at home. this i take to be the reason of the attention they are paying to spain; for while france and spain make a common cause and _start_ together, they may easily overawe this country. "i intended sending this letter by mr. parker, but he goes by the way of holland, and as i do not chuse to send it by the english post, i shall desire mr. bartholemy to forward it to you. "remember me with much affection to the marquis de la fayette. this letter will serve for two letters. whether i am in london or the country any letter to me at mr whiteside's, merchant, no. broad street buildings, will come safe. my compliments to mr. short." "london, september .--i have not heard of mr. [lewis] littlepage since i left paris,--if you have, i shall be glad to know it. as he dined sometimes at mr. neckar's, he undertook to describe the bridge to him. mr. neckar very readily conceived it. if you have an opportunity of seeing mr. neckar, and see it convenient to renew the subject, you might mention that i am going forward with an experiment arch.--mr. le couteulx desired me to examine the construction of the albion steam mills erected by bolton and watt. i have not yet written to him because i had nothing certain to write about. i have talked with mr. rumsey, who is here, upon this matter, and who appears to me to be master of that subject, and who has procured a model of the mill, which is worked originally from the steam.... when you see mr. le roy please to present my compliments. i hope to realize the opinion of the academy on the model, in which case i shall give the academy the proper information. we have no certain accounts here of the arrangement of the new ministry. the papers mention count st. preist for foreign affairs. when you see him please to present my compliments.... please to present my compliments to m. and madame de corney." "london, december .--that the king is insane is now old news. he yet continues in the same state, and the parliament are on the business of appointing a regent. the dukes of york and gloucester have both made speeches in the house of peers. an embarrassing question, whether the prince of wales has a right in himself by succession during the incapacity of his father, or whether the right must derive to him thro' parliament, has been agitated in both houses. [illegible] and the speeches of york and gloucester of avoiding the question. this day is fixt for bringing the matter on in the house of commons. a change of ministry is expected, and i believe determined on. the duke of portland and his friends will in all probability come in. i shall be exceedingly glad to hear from you, and to know if you have received my letters, and also when you intend setting off for america, or whether you intend to visit england before you go. in case of change of ministry here there are certain matters i shall be glad to see you upon. remember me to the marquis de la fayette. we hear good things from france, and i sincerely wish them all well and happy. remember me to mr. short and mr. mazzei.*" * mazzei was a scientific italian who settled in virginia with a tuscan colony before the revolution, in which he took up arms and was captured by the british. his colony had been under the patronage of jefferson, to whose fortunes he was always devoted, though the publication of jefferson's famous letter to him, reflecting on washington's administration, caused his patron much trouble. "london, jan. , .--my last letter requested to know if you had any thoughts of coming to england before you sailed to america. there will certainly be a change of ministry, and probably some change of measures, and it might not be inconvenient if you could know before your sailing, for the information of the new congress, what measures the new ministry here intended to pursue or adopt with respect to commercial arrangements with america. i am in some intimacy with mr. burke, and after the new ministry are formed he has proposed to introduce me to them. the duke of portland, at whose seat in the country i was a few days last summer, will be at the head of the treasury, and mr. fox secretary for foreign affairs. the king continues, i believe, as mad as ever. it appears that he has amassed several millions of money, great part of which is in foreign funds. he had made a will, while he had his senses, and devised it among his children, but a second will has been produced, made since he was mad, dated the th of oct., in which he gives his property to the queen. this will probably produce much dispute, as it is attended with many suspicious circumstances. it came out in the examination of the physicians, that one of them, dr. warrens, on being asked the particular time of his observing the king's insanity, said the twenty-second of october, and some influence has been exerted to induce him to retract that declaration, or to say that the insanity was not so much as to prevent him making a will, which he has refused to do." "london, february .--your favour of the d december continued to the ---- janry. came safe to hand,--for which i thank you. i begin this without knowing of any opportunity of conveyance, and shall follow the method of your letter by writing on till an opportunity offers. "i thank you for the many and judicious observations about my bridge. i am exactly in your ideas as you will perceive by the following account.--i went to the iron works the latter end of octr. my intention at the time of writing to you was to construct an experiment arch of feet, but in the first place, the season was too far advanced to work out of doors and an arch of that extent could not be worked within doors, and nextly, there was a prospect of a real bridge being wanted on the spot of feet extent. the person who appeared disposed to erect a bridge is mr. foljambe nephew to the late sir george saville, and member in the last parliament for yorkshire. he lives about three miles from the works, and the river don runs in front of his house, over which there is an old ill constructed bridge which he wants to remove. these circumstances determined me to begin an arch of feet with an elevation of feet. this extent i could manage within doors by working half the arch at a time.... a great part of our time, as you will naturally suppose was taken up in preparations, but after we began to work we went on rapidly, and that without any mistake, or anything to alter or amend. the foreman of the works is a relation to the proprietors, an excellent mechanic and who fell into all my ideas with great ease and penetration. i staid at the works till one half the rib, feet, was compleated and framed horizontally together and came up to london at the meeting of parliament on the th of december. the foreman, whom, as i told him, i should appoint 'president of the board of works,' in my absence wrote me word that he has got the other half together with much less trouble than the first. he is now preparing for erecting and i for returning. "february .--a few days ago i received a letter from mr. foljambe in which he says: i saw the rib of your bridge. in point of elegance and beauty, it far exceeded my expectations and is certainly beyond any thing i ever saw.'--my model and myself had many visitors while i was at the works. a few days after i got there, lord fitz-william, heir to the marquis of rockingham, came with mr. burke. the former gave the workmen five guineas and invited me to wentworth house, a few miles distant from the works, where i went, and staid a few days. "this bridge i expect will bring forth something greater, but in the meantime i feel like a bird from its nest and wishing most anxiously to return. therefore, as soon as i can bring any thing to bear, i shall dispose of the contract and bid adieu. i can very truly say that my mind is not at home. "i am very much rejoiced at the account you give me of the state of affairs in france. i feel exceedingly interested in the happiness of that nation. they are now got or getting into the right way, and the present reign will be more immortalized in france than any that ever preceded it. they have all died away, forgotten in the common mass of things, but this will be to france like an anno mundi, or an anno domini. the happiness of doing good and the pride of doing great things unite themselves in this business. but as there are two kinds of pride--the little and the great, the privileged orders will in some degree be governed by this division. "those of little pride (i mean little-minded pride) will be schismatical, and those of the great pride will be orthodox, with respect to the states general. interest will likewise have some share, and could this operate freely it would arrange itself on the orthodox side. to enrich a nation is to enrich the individuals which compose it. to enrich the farmer is to enrich the farm--and consequently the landlord;--for whatever the farmer is, the farm will be. the richer the subject, the richer the revenue, because the consumption from which taxes are raised is in proportion to the abilities of people to consume; therefore the most effectual method to raise both the revenue and the rental of a country is to raise the condition of the people,--or that order known in france by the tiers etat. but i ought to ask pardon for entering into reasonings in a letter to you, and only do it because i like the subject. "i observe in all the companies i go into the impression which the present circumstances of france has upon this country. _an internal alliance_ in france [between throne and people] is an alliance which england never dreamed of, and which she most dreads. whether she will be better or worse tempered afterwards i cannot judge of, but i believe she will be more cautious in giving offence. she is likewise impressed with an idea that a negotiation is on foot between the king [louis xvi.] and the emperor for adding austrian flanders to france. this appears to me such a probable thing, and may be rendered so conducive to the interest and good of all the parties concerned, that i am inclined to give it credit and wish it success. i hope then to see the scheld opened, for it is a sin to refuse the bounties of nature. on these matters i shall be glad of your opinion. i think the states general of holland could not be in earnest when they applied to france for the payment of the quota to the emperor. all things considered to request it was meanness, and to expect it absurdity. i am more inclined to think they made it an opportunity to find how they stood with france. absalom (i think it was) set fire to his brother's field of corn to bring on a conversation. "march .--with respect to political matters here, the truth is, the people are fools. they have no discernment into principles and consequences. had mr. pitt proposed a national convention, at the time of the king's insanity, he had done right; but instead of this he has absorbed the right of the nation into a right of parliament,--one house of which (the peers) is hereditary in its own right, and over which the people have no controul (not so much as they have over their king;) and the other elective by only a small part of the nation. therefore he has lessened instead of increased the rights of the people; but as they have not sense enough to see it, they have been huzzaing him. there can be no fixed principles of government, or anything like a constitution in a country where the government can alter itself, or one part of it supply the other. "whether a man that has been so compleatly mad as not to be managed but by force and the mad shirt can ever be confided in afterwards as a reasonable man, is a matter i have very little opinion of. such a circumstance, in my estimation, if mentioned, ought to be a perpetual disqualification. "the emperor i am told has entered a caveat against the elector of hanover (not the electoral vote) for king of the romans. john bull, however, is not so mad as he was, and a message has been manufactured for him to parliament in which there is nothing particular. the treaty with prussia is not yet before parliament but is to be. "had the regency gone on and the new administration been formed i should have been able to communicate some matters of business to you, both with respect to america and france; as an interview for that purpose was agreed upon and to take place as soon as the persons who were to fill the offices should succeed. i am the more confidential with those persons, as they are distinguished by the name of the blue & buff,--a dress taken up during the american war, and is the undress uniform of general washington with lapels which they still wear.* but, at any rate, i do not think it is worth while for congress to appoint any minister to this court. the greater distance congress observes on this point the better. it will be all money thrown away to go to any expence about it--at least during the present reign. i know the nation well, and the line of acquaintance i am in enables me to judge better than any other american can judge--especially at a distance. if congress should have any business to state to the government here, it can be easily done thro' their minister at paris--but the seldomer the better. * on this blue and buff society, canning wrote some satirical verses. he also described "french philanthropy" as "condorcet filtered through the dregs of paine." "i believe i am not so much in the good graces of the marquis of landsdowne as i used to be--i do not answer his purpose. he was always talking of a sort of reconnection of england and america, and my coldness and reserve on this subject checked communication." "london, april .--the king continues in his amended state, but dr. willis, his son, and attendants, are yet about his person. he has not been to parliament nor made any public appearance, but he has fixed the d april for a public thanksgiving, and he is to go in great parade to offer up his devotions at st. paul's on that day. those about him have endeavoured to dissuade him from this ostentatious pilgrimage, most probably from an apprehension of some effect it may have upon him, but he persists.... the acts for regulating the trade with america are to be continued as last year. a paper from the privy council respecting the american fly is before parliament. i had some conversation with sir joseph banks upon this subject, as he was the person whom the privy council referred to. i told him that the hessian fly attacked only the green plant, and did not exist in the dry grain. he said that with respect to the hessian fly, they had no apprehension, but it was the weevil they alluded to. i told him the weevil had always more or less been in the wheat countries of america, and that if the prohibition was on that account it was as necessary fifty or sixty years ago, as now; that i believe it was only a political manoeuvre of the ministry to please the landed interest, as a balance for prohibiting the exportation of wool to please the manufacturing interest. he did not reply, and as we are on very sociable terms i went farther by saying--the english ought not to complain of the non-payment of debts from america while they prohibit the means of payment. "i suggest to you a thought on this subject. the debts due before the war, ought to be distinguished from the debts contracted since, and all and every mode of payment and remittance under which they _have bein discharged at the time they were contracted_ ought to accompany those debts, so long as any of them shall continue unpaid; because the circumstances of payment became united with the debt, and cannot be separated by subsequent acts of one side only. if this was taken up in america, and insisted on as a right coeval with and inseparable from those debts, it would force some of the restrictions here to give way. "you speak very truly of this country when you say 'that they are slumbering under a half reformation of politics and religion, and cannot be excited by any thing they hear or see to question the remains of prejudice.' their ignorance on some matters, is unfathomable, for instance the bank of england discount bills at p cent, but a proposal is talked of for discounting at / ; and the reason given is the vast quantity of money, and that money of the good houses discounts at / ; from this they deduce the great ability and credit of the nation. whereas the contrary is the case. this money is all in paper, and the quantity is greater than the object to circulate it upon, and therefore shows that the market is glutted, and consequently the ability for farther paper excretions is lessened.--if a war should ever break out, between the countries again, this is the spot where it ought to be prosecuted, they neither feel nor care for any thing at a distance, but are frightened and spiritless at every thing which happens at home. the combined fleet coming up the channel, paul jones, and the mob of , are the dreadful eras of this country. but for national puffing none equals them. the addresses which have been presented are stuffed with nonsense of this kind. one of them published in the london gazette and presented by a sir william appleby begins thus,--'britain, the queen of isles, the pride of nations, the arbitress of europe, perhaps of the world.'... on the receipt of your last, i went to sir joseph banks to inform him of your having heard from ledyard, from grand cairo, but found he had a letter from him of the same date. sir joseph is one of the society for promoting that undertaking. he has an high opinion of ledyard, and thinks him the only man fitted for such an exploration. as you may probably hear of ledyard by accounts that may not reach here, sir joseph will be obliged to you to communicate to him any matters respecting him that may come to you (sir joseph banks, bart., soho square).... "while writing this i am informed that the minister has had a conference with some of the american creditors, and proposed to them to assume the debts and give them ten shillings on the pound--the conjecture is that he means, when the new congress is established, to demand the payment. if you are writing to general washington, it may not be amiss to mention this--and if i hear farther on the matter i will inform you.* but, as being a money matter it cannot come forward but thro' parliament, there will be notice given of the business. this would be a proper time to show that the british acts since the peace militate against the payment by narrowing the means by which those debts might have been paid when they were contracted, and which ought to be considered as constituant parts of the contract." * this and other parts of paine's correspondence were forwarded to washington. "june .--i received your last to the st may. i am just now informed of messrs. parker and cutting setting off tomorrow morning for paris by whom this will be delivered to you. nothing new is showing here. the trial of hastings, and the examination of evidence before the house of commons into the slave trade still continue. "i wrote sir joseph banks an account of my experiment arch. in his answer he informs me of its being read before the royal society who expressed 'great satisfaction at the communication.' 'i expect' says sir joseph 'many improvements from your countrymen who think with vigor, and are in a great measure free from those shackles of theory which are imposed on the minds of our people before they are capable of exerting their mental faculties to advantage.' in the close of his letter he says: 'we have lost poor ledyard. he had agreed with certain moors to conduct him to sennar. the time for their departure was arrived when he found himself ill, and took a large dose of emetic tartar, burst a blood-vessel in the operation, which carried him off in three days. we sincerely lament his loss, as the papers we have received from him are full of those emanations of spirit, which taught you to construct a bridge without any reference to the means used by your predecessors in that art.' i have wrote to the walkers and proposed to them to manufacture me a compleat bridge and erect it in london, and afterwards put it up to sale. i do this by way of bringing forward a bridge over the thames--which appears to me the most advantageous of all objects. for, if only a fifth of the persons, at a half penny each, pass over a new bridge as now pass over the old ones the tolls will pay per cent besides what will arise from carriage and horses. mrs. williams tells me that her letters from america mention dr. franklin as being exceedingly ill. i have been to see the cotton mills,--the potteries--the steel furnaces--tin plate manufacture--white lead manufacture. all those things might be easily carried on in america. i saw a few days ago part of a hand bill of what was called a geometrical wheelbarrow,--but cannot find where it is to be seen. the idea is one of those that needed only to be thought of,--for it is very easy to conceive that if a wheelbarrow, as it is called, be driven round a piece of land,--a sheet of paper may be placed in it--so as to receive by the tracings of a pencil, regulated by a little mechanism--the figure and content of the land--and that neither theodolite nor chain are necessary." "rotherham,yorkshire, july .--the walkers are to find all the materials, and fit and frame them ready for erecting, put them on board a vessel & send them to london. i am to undertake all expense from that time & to compleat the erecting. we intend first to exhibit it and afterwards put it up to sale, or dispose of it by private contract, and after paying the expences of each party the remainder to be equally divided--one half theirs, the other mine. my principal object in this plan is to open the way for a bridge over the thames.... i shall now have occasion to draw upon some funds i have in america. i have one thousand dollars stock in the bank at philadelphia, and two years interest due upon it last april, £ in the hands of general morris ',£ with mr. constable of new york; a house at borden town, and a farm at new rochelle. the stock and interest in the bank, which mr. willing manages for me, is the easiest negotiated, and full sufficient for what i shall want. on this fund i have drawn fifteen guineas payable to mr. trumbull, tho' i shall not want the money longer than till the exhibition and sale of the bridge. i had rather draw than ask to borrow of any body here. if you go to america this year i shall be very glad if you can manage this matter for me, by giving me credit for two hundred pounds, on london, and receiving that amount of mr. willing. i am not acquainted with the method of negotiating money matters, but if you can accommodate me in this, and will direct me how the transfer is to be made, i shall be much obliged to you. please direct to me under cover to mr. trumbull. i have some thoughts of coming over to france for two or three weeks, as i shall have little to do here until the bridge is ready for erecting. "september .--when i left paris i was to return with the model, but i could now bring over a compleat bridge. tho' i have a slender opinion of myself for executive business, i think, upon the whole that i have managed this matter tolerable well. with no money to spare for such an undertaking i am the sole patentee here, and connected with one of the first and best established houses in the nation. but absent from america i feel a craving desire to return and i can scarcely forbear weeping at the thoughts of your going and my staying behind. "accept my dear sir, my most hearty thanks for your many services and friendship. remember me with an overflowing affection to my dear america--the people and the place. be so kind to shake hands with them for me, and tell our beloved general washington, and my old friend dr. franklin how much i long to see them. i wish you would spend a day with general morris of morrisania, and present my best wishes to all the family.--but i find myself wandering into a melancholy subject that will be tiresome to read,--so wishing you a prosperous passage, and a happy meeting with all your friends and mine, i remain yours affectionately, etc. "i shall be very glad to hear from you when you arrive. if you direct for me to the care of mr. benjamin vaughn it will find me.--please present my friendship to captain nicholson and family of new york, and to mr. and mrs. few. "september .--i this moment receive yours of ye int. which being post night, affords me the welcome opportunity of acknowledging it. i wrote you on the th by post--but i was so full of the thoughts of america and my american friends that i forgot france. "the people of this country speak very differently on the affairs of france. the mass of them, so far as i can collect, say that france is a much freer country than england. the peers, the bishops, &c. say the national assembly has gone too far. there are yet in this country, very considerable remains of the feudal system which people did not see till the revolution in france placed it before their eyes. while the multitude here could be terrified with the cry and apprehension of arbitrary power, wooden shoes, popery, and such like stuff, they thought themselves by comparison an extraordinary free people; but this bugbear now loses its force, and they appear to me to be turning their eyes towards the aristocrats of their own nation. this is a new mode of conquering, and i think it will have its effect. "i am looking out for a place to erect my bridge, within some of the squares would be very convenient. i had thought of soho square, where sir joseph banks lives, but he is now in lincolnshire. i expect it will be ready for erecting and in london by the latter end of october. whether i shall then sell it in england or bring it over to paris, and re-erect it there, i have not determined in my mind.. in order to bring any kind of a contract forward for the seine, it is necessary it should be seen, and, as oeconomy will now be a principle in the government, it will have a better chance than before. "if you should pass thro' borden town in jersey, which is not out of your way from philadelphia to new york, i shall be glad you would enquire out my particular friend col. kirkbride. you will be very much pleased with him. his house is my home when in that part of the country--and it was there that i made the model of my bridge." chapter xix. the key of the bastille in june, , the emperor joseph ii. visited his sister, the queen of france, and passed a day at nantes. the count de menou, commandant of the place, pointed out in the harbor, among the flags raised in his honor, one bearing thirteen stars. the emperor turned away his eyes, saying: "i cannot look on that; my own profession is to be royalist" weber, foster-brother of marie antoinette, who reports the emperor's remark, recognized the fate of france in those thirteen stars. that republic, he says, was formed by the subjects of a king, aided by another king. these french armies, mingling their flags with those of america, learned a new language. those warriors, the flower of their age, went out frenchmen and returned americans. they returned to a court, but decorated with republican emblems and showing the scars of liberty. lafayette, it is said, had in his study a large carton, splendidly framed, in two columns: on one was inscribed the american declaration of independence; the other was blank, awaiting the like declaration of france.* * "memoires concernant marie-antoinette," pp. - . the year found france afflicted with a sort of famine, its finances in disorder; while the people, their eyes directed to the new world by the french comrades of washington, beheld that great chieftain inaugurated as president of a prosperous republic. the first pamphlet of thomas paine, expurgated in translation of anti-monarchism, had been widely circulated, and john adams ( ) found himself welcomed in france as the supposed author of "common sense." the lion's skin dropped from paine's disgusted enemy, and when, ten years later, the lion himself became known in paris, he was hailed with enthusiasm. this was in the autumn of , when paine witnessed the scenes that ushered in the "crowned republic," from which he hoped so much. jefferson had sailed in september, and paine was recognized by lafayette and other leaders as the representative of the united states. to him lafayette gave for presentation to washington the key of the destroyed bastille, ever since visible at mount vernon,--symbol of the fact that, in paine's words, "the principles of america opened the bastille." but now an american enemy of paine's principles more inveterate than adams found himself similarly eclipsed in paris by the famous author. early in gouverneur morris came upon the stage of events in europe. he was entrusted by the president with a financial mission which, being secret, swelled him to importance in the imagination of courtiers. at jefferson's request gouverneur morris posed to houdon for the bust of washington; and when, to morris' joy, jefferson departed, he posed politically as washington to the eyes of europe. he was scandalized that jefferson should retain recollections of the declaration of independence strong enough to desire for france "a downright republican form of government"; and how it happened that under jefferson's secretaryship of state this man, whom even hamilton pronounced "an exotic" in a republic, was presently appointed minister to france, is a mystery remaining to be solved. morris had a "high old time" in europe. intimacy with washington secured him influence with lafayette, and the fine ladies of paris, seeking official favors for relatives and lovers, welcomed him to the boudoirs, baths, and bedrooms to which his diary now introduces the public. { } it was but natural that such a man, just as he had been relieved of the overlaying jefferson, should try to brush paine aside. on january , , he enters in his diary: "to-day, at half-past three, i go to m. de lafayette's. he tells me that he wishes to have a meeting of mr. short, mr. paine, and myself, to consider their judiciary, because his place imposes on him the necessity of being right. i tell him that paine can do him no good, for that, although he has an excellent pen to write, he has but an indifferent head to think." eight years before, gouverneur morris had joined robert morris in appealing to the author to enlighten the nation on the subject of finance and the direction of the war. he had also confessed to paine that he had been duped by silas deane, who, by the way, was now justifying all that paine had said of him by hawking his secret letter-books in london. now, in paris, morris discovers that paine has but an indifferent head to think.* gouverneur morris was a fascinating man. his diary and letters, always entertaining, reveal the secret of his success in twisting the constitution and jefferson and washington around his fingers in several important junctures. to paine also he was irresistible. his cordial manners disarm suspicion, and we presently find the author pouring into the ear of his secret detractor what state secrets he learns in london. on march , , paine left paris to see after his bridge in yorkshire, now near completion. on the day before, he writes to a friend in philadelphia how prosperously everything is going on in france, where lafayette is acting the part of a washington; how the political reformation is sure to influence england; and how he longs for america. "i wish most anxiously to see my much loved america. it is the country from whence all reformation must originally spring. i despair of seeing an abolition of the infernal traffic in negroes. we must push that matter further on your side of the water. i wish that a few well-instructed could be sent among their brethren in bondage; for until they are able to take their own part nothing will be done."** * "diary and letters of gouverneur morris." edited by anne cary morris. i., p. . ** one cannot help wondering how, in this matter, paine got along with his friend jefferson, who, at the very time of his enthusiasm for the french revolution, had a slave in his house at challiot. paine was not of the philanthropic type portrayed in the "biglow papers": "i du believe in freedom's cause ez fur away ez payris is; i love to see her stick her claws in them infarnal phayrisees. it's well enough agin a king to dror resolves and triggers, but libbaty 's a kind 'o thing that don't agree with niggers." on his arrival in london he has the happiness of meeting his old friend general morris of morrisania, and his wife. gouverneur is presently over there, to see his brother; and in the intervals of dancing attendance at the opera on titled ladies--among them lady dunmore, whose husband desolated the virginia coast,--he gets paine's confidences.* poor paine was an easy victim of any show of personal kindness, especially when it seemed like the magnanimity of a political opponent. the historic sense may recognize a picturesque incident in the selection by lafayette of thomas paine to convey the key of the bastille to washington. in the series of intellectual and moral movements which culminated in the french revolution, the bastille was especially the prison of paine's forerunners, the writers, and the place where their books were burned. "the gates of the bastille," says rocquain, "were opened wide for abbés, savants, brilliant intellects, professors of the university and doctors of the sorbonne, all accused of writing or reciting verses against the king, casting reflections on the government, or publishing books in favor of deism, and contrary to good morals. diderot was one of the first arrested, and it was during his detention that he conceived the plan of his 'encyclopedia.'" ** * "diary," etc., i., pp. , . ** "l'esprit revolutionaire avant la revolution." a good service has just been done by miss hunting in translating and condensing the admirable historical treatise of m. felix rocquain on "the revolutionary spirit preceding the revolution," for which professor huxley has written a preface. the coming key was announced to washington with the following letters: "london, may , .--sir,--our very good friend the marquis de la fayette has entrusted to my care the key of the bastille, and a drawing, handsomely framed, representing the demolition of that detestable prison, as a present to your excellency, of which his letter will more particularly inform. i feel myself happy in being the person thro' whom the marquis has conveyed this early trophy of the spoils of despotism, and the first ripe fruits of american principles transplanted into europe, to his great master and patron. when he mentioned to me the present he intended you, my heart leaped with joy. it is something so truly in character that no remarks can illustrate it, and is more happily expressive of his remembrance of his american friends than any letters can convey. that the principles of america opened the bastille is not to be doubted, and therefore the key comes to the right place. "i beg leave to suggest to your excellency the propriety of congratulating the king and queen of france (for they have been our friends,) and the national assembly, on the happy example they are giving to europe. you will see by the king's speech, which i enclose, that he prides himself on being at the head of the revolution; and i am certain that such a congratulation will be well received and have a good effect. "i should rejoice to be the direct bearer of the marquis's present to your excellency, but i doubt i shall not be able to see my much loved america till next spring. i shall therefore send it by some _american_ vessel to new york. i have permitted no drawing to be taken here, tho' it has been often requested, as i think there is a propriety that it should first be presented. b[ut] mr. west wishes mr. trumbull to make a painting of the presentation of the key to you. "i returned from france to london about five weeks ago, and i am engaged to return to paris when the constitution shall be proclaimed, and to carry the american flag in the procession. i have not the least doubt of the final and compleat success of the french revolution. little ebbings and flow-ings, for and against, the natural companions of revolutions, sometimes appear; but the full current of it, is, in my opinion, as fixed as the gulph stream. "i have manufactured a bridge (a single arch) of one hundred and ten feet span, and five feet high from the cord of the arch. it is now on board a vessel coming from yorkshire to london, where it is to be erected. i see nothing yet to disappoint my hopes of its being advantageous to me. it is this only which keeps me [in] europe, and happy shall i be when i shall have it in my power to return to america. i have not heard of mr. jefferson since he sailed, except of his arrival. as i have always indulged the belief of having many friends in america, or rather no enemies, i have [mutilated] to mention but my affectionate [mutilated'] and am sir with the greatest respect, &c. "if any of my friends are disposed to favor me with a letter it will come to hand by addressing it to the care of benjamin vaughn esq., jeffries square, london." "london, may , .--sir,--by mr. james morris, who sailed in the may packet, i transmitted you a letter from the marquis de la fayette, at the same time informing you that the marquis had entrusted to my charge the key of the bastille, and a drawing of that prison, as a present to your excellency. mr. j. rutledge, jun'r, had intended coming in the ship 'marquis de la fayette,' and i had chosen that opportunity for the purpose of transmitting the present; but, the ship not sailing at the time appointed, mr. rutledge takes his passage on the packet, and i have committed to his care that trophie of liberty which i know it will give you pleasure to receive. the french revolution is not only compleat but triumphant, and the envious despotism of this nation is compelled to own the magnanimity with which it has been conducted. "the political hemisphere is again clouded by a dispute between england and spain, the circumstances of which you will hear before this letter can arrive. a messenger was sent from hence the th inst. to madrid with very peremptory demands, and to wait there only forty-eight hours. his return has been expected for two or three days past. i was this morning at the marquis del campo's but nothing is yet arrived. mr. rutledge sets off at four o'clock this afternoon, but should any news arrive before the making up the mail on wednesday june , i will forward it to you under cover. "the views of this court as well as of the nation, so far as they extend to south america, are not for the purpose of freedom, but conquest. they already talk of sending some of the young branches to reign over them, and to pay off their national debt with the produce of their mines. the bondage of those countries will, as far as i can perceive, be prolonged by what this court has in contemplation. "my bridge is arrived and i have engaged a place to erect it in. a little time will determine its fate, but i yet see no cause to doubt of its success, tho' it is very probable that a war, should it break out, will as in all new things prevent its progress so far as regards profits. "in the partition in the box, which contains the key of the bastille, i have put up half a dozen razors, manufactured from cast-steel made at the works where the bridge was constructed, which i request you to accept as a little token from a very grateful heart. "i received about a week ago a letter from mr. g. clymer. it is dated the th february, but has been travelling ever since. i request you to acknowledge it for me and that i will answer it when my bridge is erected. with much affection to all my friends, and many wishes to see them again, i am, etc." washington received the key at new york, along with this last letter, and on august , , acknowledges paine's "agreeable letters." "it must, i dare say, give you great pleasure to learn by repeated opportunities, that our new government answers its purposes as well as could have been reasonably expected, that we are gradually overcoming the difficulties which presented in its first organization, and that our prospects in general are growing more favorable." paine is said by several biographers to have gone to paris in the may of this year. no doubt he was missed from london, but it was probably because he had gone to thetford, where his mother died about the middle of may. gouverneur morris reports interviews with him august th and th, in london. the beautiful iron bridge, feet long, had been erected in june at leasing-green (now paddington-green) at the joint expense of paine and peter whiteside, an american merchant in london. it was attracting a fair number of visitors, at a shilling each, also favorable press notices, and all promised well. so paine was free to run over to paris, where carlyle mentions him, this year, as among the english "missionaries."* it was a brief visit, however, for october finds him again in london, drawn probably by intimations of disaster to the interests of his bridge. whiteside had failed, and his assignees, finding on his books £ debited to paine's bridge, came upon the inventor for the money; no doubt unfairly, for it seems to have been whiteside's investment, but paine, the american merchants cleggett and murdoch becoming his bail, scraped together the money and paid it probably he lost through whiteside's bankruptcy other moneys, among them the sum he had deposited to supply his mother with her weekly nine shillings. paine was too much accustomed to straitened means to allow this affair to trouble him much. the bridge exhibition went on smoothly enough. country gentlemen, deputations from riverside towns, visited it, and suggested negotiations for utilizing the invention. the snug copyright fortune which the author had sacrificed to the american cause seemed about to be recovered by the inventor. * "her paine; rebellious staymaker; unkempt; who feels that he, a single needleman, did, by his 'common sense' pamphlet, free america;--that he can and will free all this world; perhaps even the other."--french revolution. but again the cause arose before him; he must part from all--patent interests, literary leisure, fine society--and take the hand of liberty, undowered, but as yet unstained. he must beat his bridge-iron into a key that shall unlock the british bastille, whose walls he sees steadily closing around the people. chapter xx. "the rights of man" edmund burke's "reflexions on the revolution in france" appeared about november , paine was staying at the angel inn, islington, and there immediately began his reply. with his sentiment for anniversaries, he may have begun his work on november th, in honor of the english revolution, whose centenary celebration he had witnessed three years before. in a hundred years all that had been turned into a more secure lease of monarchy. burke's pamphlet founded on that revolution a claim that the throne represented a perpetual popular franchise. paine might have heard under his window the boys, with their "please to remember the fifth of november," and seen their effigy of guy fawkes, which in two years his own effigy was to replace. but no misgivings of that kind haunted him. for his eyes the omens hung over the dark past; on the horizon a new day was breaking in morning stars and stripes. with the inspiration of perfect faith, born of the sacrifices that had ended so triumphantly in america, paine wrote the book which, coming from such deep, the deeps answered. although paine had been revising his religion, much of the orthodox temper survived in him; notably, he still required some kind of satan to bring out his full energy. in america it had been george iii., duly hoofed and horned, at whom his inkstand was hurled; now it is burke, who appeared with all the seductive brilliancy of a fallen lucifer. no man had been more idealized by paine than burke. not only because of his magnificent defence of american patriots, but because of his far-reaching exposures of despotism, then creeping, snake-like, from one skin to another. at the very time that paine was writing "common sense," burke was pointing out that "the power of the crown, almost dead and rotten as prerogative, has grown up anew, with much more strength and far less odium, under the name of influence." he had given liberalism the sentence: "the forms of a free and the ends of an arbitrary government are things not altogether incompatible." he had been the intimate friend of priestley and other liberals, and when paine arrived in had taken him to his heart and home. paine maintained his faith in burke after priestley and price had remarked a change. in the winter of , when the enthusiastic author was sending out jubilant missives to washington and others, announcing the glorious transformation of france, he sent one to burke, who might even then have been preparing the attack on france, delivered early in the parliament of . when, soon after his return from paris, paine mingled with the mourners for their lost leader, he was informed that burke had for some time been a "masked pensioner," to the extent of £ , per annum. this rumor paine mentioned, and it was not denied, whether because true, or because burke was looking forward to his subsequent pension of £ , , is doubtful. burke's book preceded the events in france which caused reaction in the minds of wordsworth and other thinkers in england and america. the french were then engaged in adapting their government to the free principles of which burke himself had long been the eloquent advocate. it was not without justice that erskine charged him with having challenged a revolution in england, by claiming that its hereditary monarchy was bound on the people by a compact of the previous century, and that, good or bad, they had no power to alter it. the power of burke's pamphlet lay largely in his deftness with the methods of those he assailed. he had courted their company, familiarized himself with their ideas, received their confidences. this had been especially the case with paine. so there seemed to be a _soupcon_ of treachery in his subtleties and his disclosures. but after all he did not know paine. he had not imagined the completeness with which the struggle in america had trained this man in every art of controversy. grappling with philadelphia tories, quakers, reactionists, with aristocrats on the one hand and anarchists on the other, paine had been familiarized beyond all men with every deep and by-way of the subject on which burke had ventured. where burke had dabbled paine had dived. never did man reputed wise go beyond his depth in such a bowl as when burke appealed to a revolution of as authoritative. if one revolution could be authoritative, why not another? how did the seventeenth century secure a monopoly in revolution? if a revolution in one century could transfer the throne from one family to another, why might not the same power in another transfer it to an elective monarch, or a president, or leave it vacant? to demolish burke was the least part of paine's task. burke was, indeed, already answered by the government established in america, presided over by a man to whom the world paid homage. to washington, paine's work was dedicated. his real design was to write a constitution for the english nation. and to-day the student of political history may find in burke's pamphlet the fossilized, and in paine's (potentially) the living, constitution of great britain. { } for adequacy to a purpose paine's "common sense" and his "rights of man" have never been surpassed. washington pronounced the former unanswerable, and burke passed the like verdict on the latter when he said that the refutation it deserved was "that of criminal justice." there was not the slightest confusion of ideas and aim in this book. in laying down first principles of human government, paine imports no preference of his own for one form or another. the people have the right to establish any government they choose, be it democracy or monarchy,--if not hereditary. he explains with nicety of consecutive statement that a real constitution must be of the people, and for the people. that is, for the people who make it; they have no right, by any hereditary principle, to bind another people, unborn. his principle of the rights of man was founded in the religious axiom of his age that all men derived existence from a divine maker. to say men are born equal means that they are created equal. precedent contradicts precedent, authority is against authority, in all our appeals to antiquity, until we reach the time when man came from the hands of his maker. "what was he then? man. man was his high and only title, and a higher cannot be given him." "god said let us make man in our own image." no distinction between men is pointed out. all histories, all traditions, of the creation agree as to the unity of man. generation being the mode by which creation is carried forward, every child derives its existence from god. "the world is as new to him as it was to the first man that existed, and his natural right to it is of the same kind." on these natural rights paine founds man's civil rights. to secure his natural rights the individual deposits some of them--e.g. the right to judge in his own cause--in the common stock of society. paine next proceeds to distinguish governments which have arisen out of this social compact from those which have not. governments are classified as founded on--( ) superstition; ( ) power; ( ) the common interests of society, and the common rights of man: that is, on priestcraft, on conquest, on reason. a national constitution is the act of the people antecedent to government; a government cannot therefore determine or alter the organic law it temporarily represents. pitt's bill to reform parliament involves the absurdity of trusting an admittedly vitiated body to reform itself. the judges are to sit in their own case. "the right of reform is in the nation in its original character, and the constitutional method would be by a general convention elected for the purpose." the organization of the aggregate of rights which individuals concede to society, for the security of all rights, makes the republic. so far as the rights have been surrendered to extraneous authority, as of priest-craft, hereditary power, or conquest,--it is despotism. to set forth these general principles was paine's first design. his next aim was to put on record the true and exact history of events in france up to the year . this history, partly that of an eyewitness, partly obtained from the best men in france--lafayette, danton, brissot, and others,--and by mingling with the masses, constitutes the most fresh and important existing contribution to our knowledge of the movement in its early stages. the majority of histories of the french revolution, carlyle's especially, are vitiated by reason of their inadequate attention to paine's narrative. there had been then few serious outbreaks of the mob, but of these burke had made the most paine contends that the outrages can no more be charged against the french than the london riots of against the english nation; then retorts that mobs are the inevitable consequence of mis-government. "it is by distortedly exalting some men, that others are distortedly debased. a vast mass of mankind are degradedly thrown into the background of the human picture, to bring forward, with greater glare, the puppet show of state and aristocracy. in the commencement of a revolution, those men are rather followers of the camp than of the standard of liberty, and have yet to be instructed how to use it." part i. of "the rights of man" was printed by johnson in time for the opening of parliament (february), but this publisher became frightened, and only a few copies bearing his name found their way into private hands,--one of these being in the british museum. j. s. jordan, fleet street, consented to publish it, and paine, entrusting it to a committee of his friends--william godwin, thomas holcroft, and thomas brand hollis--took his departure for paris.* from that city he sent a brief preface which appeared with jordan's first edition, march , . oldys (chalmers) asserts that the work was altered by jordan. this assertion, in its sweeping form, is disproved not only by holcroft's note to godwin, but by a comparison of the "johnson" and "jordan "volumes in the british museum."** * "i have got it--if this do not cure my cough it is a damned perverse mule of a cough--the pamphlet--from the row --but mum--we don't sell it--oh, no--ears and eggs--verbatim, except the addition of a short preface, which as you have not seen, i send you my copy--not a single castration (laud be unto god and j. s. jordan!) can i discover--hey for the new jerusalem! the millennium! and peace and eternal beatitude be unto the soul of thomas paine!"--c. kegan paul's "william godwin." in supposing that paine may have gone to paris before his book appeared (march th), i have followed rickman, who says the work was written "partly at the angel, at islington, partly in harding street, fetter lane, and finished at versailles." he adds that "many hundred thousand more copies were rapidly sold." but i have no certain trace of paine in paris in earlier than april th. ** this comparison was made for me by a careful writer, mr. j. m. wheeler, of london, who finds, with a few corrections in spelling, but one case of softening: "p. , in johnson paine wrote 'everything in the english government appears to me the reverse of what it ought to be' which in jordan is modified to 'many things,' etc." the preface to which holcroft alludes is of biographical interest both as regards paine and burke. as it does not appear in the american edition it is here inserted: "from the part mr. burke took in the american revolution, it was natural that i should consider him a friend to mankind; and as our acquaintance commenced on that ground, it would have been more agreeable to me to have had cause to continue in that opinion, than to change it. "at the time mr. burke made his violent speech last winter in the english parliament against the french revolution and the national assembly, i was in paris, and had written him, but a short time before, to inform him how prosperously matters were going on. soon after this i saw his advertisement of the pamphlet he intended to publish. as the attack was to be made in a language but little studied, and less understood, in france, and as everything suffers by translation, i promised some of the friends of the revolution in that country, that whenever mr. burke's pamphlet came forth, i would answer it. this appeared to me the more necessary to be done, when i saw the flagrant misrepresentations which mr. burke's pamphlet contains; and that while it is an outrageous abuse of the french revolution, and the principles of liberty, it is an imposition on the rest of the world. "i am the more astonished and disappointed at this conduct in mr. burke, as (from the circumstance i am going to mention) i had formed other expectations. "i had seen enough of the miseries of war, to wish it might never more have existence in the world, and that some other mode might be found out to settle the differences that should occasionally arise in the neighbourhood of nations. this certainly might be done if courts were disposed to set honestly about it, or if countries were enlightened enough not to be made the dupes of courts. the people of america had been bred up in the same prejudices against france, which at that time characterized the people of england; but experience and an acquaintance with the french nation have most effectually shown to the americans the falsehood of those prejudices; and i do not believe that a more cordial and confidential intercourse exists between any two countries than between america and france. "when i came to france in the spring of , the archbishop of thoulouse was then minister, and at that time highly esteemed. i became much acquainted with the private secretary of that minister, a man of an enlarged benevolent heart; and found that his sentiments and my own perfectly agreed with respect to the madness of war, and the wretched impolicy of two nations, like england and france, continually worrying each other, to no other end than that of a mutual increase of burdens and taxes. that i might be assured i had not misunderstood him, nor he me, i put the substance of our opinions into writing, and sent it to him; subjoining a request, that if i should see among the people of england any disposition to cultivate a better understanding between the two nations than had hitherto prevailed, how far i might be authorised to say that the same disposition prevailed on the part of france? he answered me by letter in the most unreserved manner, and that not for himself only, but for the minister, with whose knowledge the letter was declared to be written. "i put this letter into the hands of mr. burke almost three years ago, and left it with him, where it still remains, hoping, and at the same time naturally expecting, from the opinion i had conceived of him, that he would find some opportunity of making a good use of it, for the purpose of removing those errors and prejudices which two neighbouring nations, from the want of knowing each other, had entertained, to the injury of both. "when the french revolution broke out, it certainly afforded to mr. burke an opportunity of doing some good, had he been disposed to it; instead of which, no sooner did he see the old prejudices wearing away, than he immediately began sowing the seeds of a new inveteracy, as if he were afraid that england and france would cease to be enemies. that there are men in all countries who get their living by war, and by keeping up the quarrels of nations, is as shocking as it is true; but when those who are concerned in the government of a country, make it their study to sow discord, and cultivate prejudices between nations, it becomes the more unpardonable. "with respect to a paragraph in this work alluding to mr. burke's having a pension, the report has been some time in circulation, at least two months; and as a person is often the last to hear what concerns him the most to know, i have mentioned it, that mr. burke may have an opportunity of contradicting the rumour, if he thinks proper." "the rights of man" produced a great impression from the first. it powerfully reinforced the "constitutional society," formed seven years before, which paine had joined. the book was adopted as their new _magna charta_. their enthusiasm was poured forth on march d in resolutions which daniel williams, secretary, is directed to transmit "to all our corresponding constitutional societies in england, scotland, and france." in ireland the work was widely welcomed. i find a note that "at a numerous meeting of the whigs of the capital [dublin] on tuesday the th of april, hugh crothers in the chair," a committee was appointed to consider the most effectual mode of disseminating mr. paine's pamphlet on "the rights of man." in order to be uniform with burke's pamphlet the earlier editions of "the rights of man," were in the three-shilling style. the proceeds enriched the society for constitutional information, though paine had been drained of funds by the failure of whiteside. gouverneur morris, as appears by the subjoined extracts from his diary, is disgusted with paine's "wretched apartments" in paris, in which, however, the reader may see something finer than the diarist's luxury, which the author might have rivalled with the means devoted to his cause. this was perhaps what morris and paine s friend hodges agreed in deeming a sort of lunacy. "april . return home, and read the answer of paine to burke's book; there are good things in the answer as well as in the book. paine calls on me. he says that he found great difficulty in prevailing on any bookseller to publish his book; that it is extremely popular in england, and, of course, the writer, which he considers as one of the many uncommon revolutions of this age. he turns the conversation on times of yore, and as he mentions me among those who were his enemies, i frankly acknowledge that i urged his dismissal from the office he held of secretary to the committee of foreign affairs." "april . this morning i visit paine and mr. hodges. the former is abroad, the latter is in the wretched apartments they occupy. he speaks of paine as being a little mad, which is not improbable." "april . this morning paine calls and tells me that the marquis de lafayette has accepted the position of head of the national guards." "may . dine with montmorin. bouinville is here. he is just returned from england. he tells me that paine's book works mightily in england." up to this point paine had, indeed, carried england with him,--for england was at heart with fox and the opposition. when burke made his first attack on the french revolution (february , ), he was repeatedly called to order; and fox--with tears, for their long friendship was breaking forever--overwhelmed burke with his rebuke. even pitt did not say a word for him. his pamphlet nine months later was ascribed to inspiration of the king, from whom he expected favors; and although the madmen under whom the french revolution fell presently came to the support of his case. burke personally never recovered his place in the esteem of england. that the popular instinct was true, and that burke was playing a deeper game than appeared, was afterwards revealed in the archives of england and france.* * "thirty thousand copies of burke's book were circulated in all the courts and among the european aristocracy as so many lighted brands to set europe in flames. during this time the author, by his secret correspondence, excited queen marie- antoinette, the court, the foreigners, to conspire against the revolution. 'no compromises with rebels!' he wrote; 'appeal to sovereign neighbors; above all trust to the support of foreign armies.'"--"histoire de france," par henri martin, i., p. . there was every reason why paine's reply should carry liberal statesmen with him. his pamphlet was statesmanlike. the french constitution at that time was the inchoate instrument beginning with the "declaration of rights," adopted on lafayette's proposal (august , ), and containing provisions contrary to paine's views. it recognized the reigning house, and made its executive power hereditary. yet so free was paine from pedantry, so anxious for any peaceful advance, that it was at the expected inauguration of this constitution he had consented to bear the american flag, and in his reply to burke he respects the right of a people to establish even hereditary executive, the right of constitutional reform being retained. "the french constitution distinguishes between the king and the sovereign; it considers the station of the king as official, and places sovereignty in the nation." in the same practical way he deals with other survivals in the french constitution--such as clericalism, and the property qualification for suffrage--by dwelling on their mitigations, while reaffirming his own principles on these points. a very important part of paine's answer was that which related to the united states. burke, the most famous defender of american revolutionists, was anxious to separate their movement from that in france. paine, with ample knowledge, proved how largely the uprising in france was due to the training of lafayette and other french officers in america, and to the influence of franklin, who was "not the diplomatist of a court, but of man." he also drew attention to the effect of the american state constitutions, which were a grammar of liberty.* he points out that under this transatlantic influence french liberalism had deviated from the line of its forerunners,--from montesquieu, "obliged to divide himself between principle and prudence"; voltaire, "both the flatterer and satirist of despotism"; rousseau, leaving "the mind in love with an object without describing the means of possessing it"; turgot, whose maxims are directed to "reform the administration of government rather than the government itself." to these high praise is awarded, but they all had to be filtered through america. * dr. franklin had these constitutions translated, and presented them in a finely bound volume to the king. according to paine, who must have heard it from franklin, vergennes resisted their publication, but was obliged to give way to public demand. paine could not allude to the effect of his own work, "common sense," which may have been the more effective because its argument against monarchy was omitted from the translation. but his enemies did not fail to credit his pen with the catastrophes in france. john adams declares that the constitution of pennsylvania was ascribed wrongly to franklin; it was written by paine and three others; turgot, condorcet, and the duke de la rochefoucauld were enamored of it, and two of them "owed their final and fatal catastrophe to this blind love" (letter to s. perley, june , ). whence cheetham. dwelling on the enormity of the "single representative assembly," queries: "may not paine's constitution of pennsylvania have been the cause of the tyranny of robespierre?" and it goes without saying that it was not the reactionary america with which john adams and gouverneur morris had familiarized burke. "the rights of man" was the first exposition of the republicanism of jefferson, madison, and edmund randolph that ever appeared. and as this republicanism was just then in deadly struggle with reaction, the first storm raised by paine's book occurred in america. it was known in america that paine was about to beard the british lion in his den, and to expectant ears the roar was heard before its utterance. "paine's answer to burke (writes madison to jefferson, may st) has not yet been received here [new york]. the moment it can be got, freneau tells me, it will be published in child's paper [_daily advertiser_], it is said that the pamphlet has been suppressed, and that the author withdrew to france before or immediately after its appearance. this may account for his not sending copies to his friends in this country." mr. beckley, however, had by this time received a copy and loaned it to jefferson, with a request that he would send it to j. b. smith, whose brother, s. h. smith, printed it with the following preface: "the following extracts from a note accompanying a copy of this pamphlet for republication is so respectable a testing of its value, that the printer hopes the distinguished writer will excuse its present appearance. it proceeds from a character equally eminent in the councils of america, and conversant in the affairs of france, from a long and recent residence at the court of versailles in the diplomatic department; and at the same time that it does justice to the writings of mr. paine, it reflects honor on the source from which it flows by directing the mind to a contemplation of that republican firmness and democratic simplicity which endear their possessor to every friend of the rights of man. "after some prefatory remarks the secretary of state observes: "' i am extremely pleased to find it will be reprinted, and that something is at length to be publickly said against the political heresies which have sprung up among us. "'i have no doubt our citizens will rally a _second _time round the _standard_ of common sense.'" as the pamphlet had been dedicated to the president,* this encomium of the secretary of state ("jefferson" was not mentioned by the sagacious publisher) gave it the air of a manifesto by the administration. had all been contrived, paine's arrow could not have been more perfectly feathered to reach the heart of the anti-republican faction. the secretary's allusion to "political heresies" was so plainly meant for the vice-president that a million hands tossed the gauntlet to him, and supposed it was his own hand that took it up. these letters, to _the columbian centinel_ (boston), were indeed published in england as by "john adams," and in the trial of paine were quoted by the attorney-general as proceeding from "the second in the executive government" of america. had it been generally known, however, that they were by the vice-president's son, john quincy adams, the effect might not have been very different on the father. edmund randolph, in view of john adams' past services, felt some regret at the attacks on him, and wrote to madison: "i should rejoice that the controversy has been excited, were it not that under the character of [publicola] he, who was sufficiently depressed before, is now irredeemable in the public opinion without being the real author." the youth, however, was only in his twenty-fourth year, and pretty certainly under his father's inspiration. * "sir, i present you a small treatise in defence of those principles of freedom which your exemplary virtue hath so eminently contributed to establish. that the rights of men may become as universal as your benevolence can wish, and that you may enjoy the happiness of seeing the new world regenerate the old, is the prayer of, sir, your much obliged and obedient humble servant, thomas paine." it is improbable, however, that john adams could have written such scholarly and self-restrained criticisms on any work by paine, mere mention of whom always made him foam at the mouth. publicola's arguments could not get a fair hearing amid surviving animosities against england and enthusiasm for a republican movement in france, as yet not a revolution, which promised the prevalence of american ideas in europe. the actual england of that era, whose evils were powerfully portrayed by paine, defeated in advance any theoretical estimate of the advantages of its unwritten constitution. america had, too, an inventor's pride in its written constitution, as yet untried by experience. publicola assailed, successfully as i think, paine's principle that a vitiated legislature could never be trusted to reform itself. it was answered that there is no reason why the people may not delegate to a legislature, renewed by suffrage, the power of altering even the organic law. publicola contends that the people could not act in their original character in changing a constitution, in opposition to an existing legislature, without danger of anarchy and war; that if the people were in harmony with their legislature it could be trusted to carry out their amendments; that a legislature without such constitutional powers would nevertheless exercise them by forced constructions; and that the difficulty and delay of gathering the people in convention might conceivably endanger the commonwealth, were the power of fundamental alteration not delegated to the legislature,--a concurrent right being reserved by the people. this philosophical statement, interesting in the light of french revolutions and english evolutions, recoiled on publicola from the walls of paine's real fortress. this was built of the fact that in england the majority was not represented even in the commons, and that the people had no representation at all in two branches of their government. moreover, paine's plea had been simply for such reconstitution of government as would enable the people to reform it without revolution or convulsion. publicola was compelled to admit that the english people had no resort but the right of revolution, so that it appeared mere monarchism to argue against paine's plea for a self-amending constitution in england. publicola's retort on the secretary's phrase, "political heresies" (infelicitous from a freethinker),--"does he consider this pamphlet of mr. paine's as the canonical book of political scripture,--hurt jefferson so much that he supposed himself harmed. he was indeed much annoyed by the whole affair, and straightway wrote to political leaders letters--some private, others to be quoted,--in which he sought to smooth things by declaring that his note was not meant for publication. to washington he writes (may th) the beckley-smith story, beginning: "i am afraid the indiscretion of a printer has committed me with my friend mr. adams, for whom, as one of the most honest and disinterested men alive, i have a cordial esteem, increased by long habits of concurrence in opinion in the days of his republicanism; and even since his apostasy to hereditary monarchy and nobility, though we differ, we differ as friends should do." the "jeffersonians" were, of course, delighted, and there is no knowing how much reputation for pluck the secretary was gaining in the country at the very moment when his intimate friends were soothing his tremors. these were increased by the agitation of the british representatives in america over the affair. the following re-enforcement was sent by madison on may th: "i had seen paine's pamphlet, with the preface of the philadelphia edition. it immediately occurred that you were brought into the frontispiece in the manner you explain. but i had not foreseen the particular use made of it by the british partizans. mr. adams can least of all complain. under a mock defence of the republican constitutions of his country he attacked them with all the force he possessed, and this in a book with his name to it, while he was the representative of his country at a foreign court. since he has been the second magistrate in the new republic, his pen has constantly been at work in the same cause; and though his name has not been prefixed to his anti-republican discourses, the author has been as well known as if that formality had been observed. surely if it be innocent and decent in one servant of the public thus to write attacks against its government, it cannot be very criminal or indecent in another to patronize a written defence of the principles on which that government is founded. the sensibility of hammond [british minister] and bond [british consul-general] for the indignity to the british constitution is truly ridiculous. if offence could be justly taken in that quarter, what would france have a right to say to burke's pamphlet, and the countenance given to it and its author, particularly by the king himself? what, in fact, might not the united states say, when revolutions and democratic governments come in for a large charge of the scurrility lavished on those of france?" one curious circumstance of this incident was that the fuss made by these british agents was about a book concerning which their government, under whose nose it was published, had not said a word. there was, indeed, one sting in the american edition which was not in the english, but that does not appear to have been noticed.* the resentment shown by the british agents was plainly meant to aid adams and the partisans of england in their efforts to crush the republicans, and bring washington to their side in hostility to jefferson. four years later they succeeded, and already it was apparent to the republican leaders that fine engineering was required to keep the colossus on their side. washington being at mount vernon, his secretary, tobias lear, was approached by major beckwith, an english agent (at mrs. washington's reception), who undertook to lecture through him the president and secretary of state. he expressed surprise that paine's pamphlet should be dedicated to the president, as it contained remarks "that could not but be offensive to the british government." the major might have been embarrassed if asked his instructions on the point, but lear only said that the president had not seen the pamphlet, nor could he be held responsible for its sentiments. "true," said beckwith, "but i observe, in the american edition, that the secretary of state has given a most unequivocal sanction to the book, as _secretary of state_; it is not said as mr. jefferson." lear said he had not seen the pamphlet, "but," he added, "i will venture to say that the secretary of state has not done a thing which he would not justify." beckwith then remarked that he had spoken only as "a private character," and lear went off to report the conversation in a letter to washington (may th), and next day to attorney-general randolph. lear also reports to washington that he had heard adams say, with his hand upon his breast: "i detest that book and its tendency, from the bottom of my heart." meanwhile the attorney-general, after conversation with beckwith, visited jefferson, and asked if he had authorized the publication of his note in paine's pamphlet. * it has already been stated that the volume as printed by jordan (london) in march, contained one single modification of that which johnson had printed in february, but declined to publish. the american edition was printed from the johnson volume; and where the english were reading "many things," etc, the americans read: "every thing in the english government appears to me the reverse of what it ought to be, and of what it is said to be." "mr. jefferson said that, so far from having authorized it, he was exceedingly sorry to see it there; not from a disavowal of the approbation which it gave the work, but because it had been sent to the printer, with the pamphlet for republication, without the most distant idea that he would think of publishing any part of it. and mr. jefferson further added that he wished it might be understood, that he did not authorize the publication of any part of his note." these words of lear to washington, written no doubt in randolph's presence, suggest the delicacy of the situation. jefferson's anxiety led him to write vice-president adams (july th) the beckley-smith story. "i thought [he adds] so little of the note that i did not even keep a copy of it, nor ever heard a tittle more of it till, the week following, i was thunderstruck with seeing it come out at the head of the pamphlet. i hoped that it would not attract. but i found on my return from a journey of a month, that a writer came forward under the name of publicola, attacking not only the author and principles of the pamphlet, but myself as its sponsor by name. soon after came hosts of other writers, defending the pamphlet and attacking you by name as the writer of publicola. thus our names were thrown on the stage as public antagonists." then follows some effusiveness for adams, and protestations that he has written none of these attacks. jefferson fully believed that publicola was the vice-president, and had so informed monroe, on july th. it was important that his lieutenants should not suspect their leader of shrinking, and jefferson's letters to them are in a different vein. "publicola," he tells monroe, "in attacking all paine's principles, is very desirous of involving me in the same censure with the author. i certainly merit the same, for i profess the same principles; but it is equally certain i never meant to have entered as a volunteer in the cause. my occupations do not permit it." to paine he writes (july th): "indeed i am glad you did not come away till you had written your rights of man. a writer under the signature of publicola has attacked it, and a host of champions has entered the arena immediately in your defence." it is added that the controversy has shown the people firm in their republicanism, "contrary to the assertions of a sect here, high in name but small in numbers," who were hoping that the masses were becoming converted "to the doctrine of king, lords, and commons." in the letter to which this was a reply, paine had stated his intention of returning to america in the spring.* the enthusiasm for paine and his principles elicited by the controversy was so overwhelming that edmund randolph and jefferson made an effort to secure him a place in washington's cabinet. but, though reinforced by madison, they failed** * "i enclose you a few observations on the establishment of a mint. i have not seen your report on that subject and therefore cannot tell how nearly our opinions run together; but as it is by thinking upon and talking subjects over that we approach towards truth, there may probably be something in the enclosed that may be of use.--as the establishment of a mint combines a portion of politics with a knowledge of the arts, and a variety of other matters, it is a subject i shall very much like to talk with you upon. i intend at all events to be in america in the spring, and it will please me much to arrive before you have gone thro' the arrangement." --paine to jefferson, dated london, september , . ** madison to jefferson, july th,--"i wish you success with all my heart in your efforts for paine. besides the advantage to him which he deserves, an appointment for him at this moment would do public good in various ways." these statesmen little knew how far washington had committed himself to the british government. in october, , washington, with his own hand, had written to gouverneur morris, desiring him in "the capacity of private agent, and on the authority and credit of this letter, to converse with his britannic majesty's ministers on these points; viz., whether there be any, and what objections to performing those articles in the treaty which remained to be performed on his part, and whether they incline to a treaty of commerce with the united states on any, and what terms?" this was a secret between washington, morris, and the british cabinet.* it was the deepest desire of washington to free america from british garrisons, and his expectation was to secure this by the bribe of a liberal commercial treaty, as he ultimately did. the demonstration of the british agents in america against paine's pamphlet, their offence at its dedication to the president and sanction by the secretary of state, were well calculated. that it was all an american _coup_, unwarranted by any advice from england, could not occur to washington, who was probably surprised when he presently received a letter from paine showing that he was getting along quite comfortably under the government he was said to have aggrieved. * "diary of gouverneur morris," i., p. . edmund randolph to madison, july st.--"i need not relate to you, that since the _standard_ of republicanism has been erected, it has been resorted to by a numerous corps. the newspapers will tell you how much the crest of aristocracy has fallen.... but he [adams] is impotent, and something is due to past services. mr. j. and myself have attempted to bring paine forward as a successor to osgood [postmaster-general]. it seems to be a fair opportunity for a declaration of certain sentiments. but all that i have heard has been that it would be too pointed to keep a vacancy unfilled until his return from the other side of the water." "london, july , --dear sir.--i received your favor of last august by col: humphries since which i have not written to or heard from you. i mention this that you may know no letters have miscarried. i took the liberty of addressing my late work 'rights of man,' to you; but tho' i left it at that time to find its way to you, i now request your acceptance of fifty copies as a token of remembrance to yourself and my friends. the work has had a run beyond anything that has been published in this country on the subject of government, and the demand continues. in ireland it has had a much greater. a letter i received from dublin, th of may, mentioned that the fourth edition was then on sale. i know not what number of copies were printed at each edition, except the second, which was ten thousand. the same fate follows me here as i _at first_ experienced in america, strong friends and violent enemies, but as i have got the ear of the country, i shall go on, and at least shew them, what is a novelty here, that there can be a person beyond the reach of corruption. "i arrived here from france about ten days ago. m. de la fayette is well. the affairs of that country are verging to a new crisis, whether the government shall be monarchical and heredetary or wholly representative? i think the latter opinion will very generally prevail in the end. on this question the people are much forwarder than the national assembly. "after the establishment of the american revolution, it did not appear to me that any object could arise great enough to engage me a second time. i began to feel myself happy in being quiet; but i now experience that principle is not confined to time or place, and that the ardour of seventy-six is capable of renewing itself. i have another work on hand which i intend shall be my last, for i long much to return to america. it is not natural that fame should wish for a rival, but the case is otherwise with me, for i do most sincerely wish there was some person in this country that could usefully and successfully attract the public attention, and leave me with a satisfied mind to the enjoyment of quiet life: but it is painful to see errors and abuses and sit down a senseless spectator. of this your own mind will interpret mine. "i have printed sixteen thousand copies; when the whole are gone of which there remain between three and four thousand i shall then make a cheap edition, just sufficient to bring in the price of the printing and paper as i did by common sense. "mr. green who will present you this, has been very much my friend. i wanted last october to draw for fifty pounds on general lewis morris who has some money of mine, but as he is unknown in the commercial line, and american credit not very good, and my own expended, i could not succeed, especially as gov'r morris was then in holland. col: humphries went with me to your agent mr. walsh, to whom i stated the case, and took the liberty of saying that i knew you would not think it a trouble to receive it of gen. morris on mr. walsh's account, but he declined it. mr. green afterwards supplied me and i have since repaid him. he has a troublesome affair on his hands here, and is in danger of losing thirty or forty thousand pounds, embarked under the flag of the united states in east india property. the persons who have received it withhold it and shelter themselves under some law contrivance. he wishes to state the case to congress not only on his own account, but as a matter that may be nationally interesting. "the public papers will inform you of the riots and tumults at birmingham, and of some disturbances at paris, and as mr. green can detail them to you more particularly than i can do in a letter i leave those matters to his information. i am, etc." nine months elapsed before washington answered this letter, and although important events of those months have yet to be related, the answer may be here put on record. "philadelphia, may, .--dear sir.--to my friends, and those who know my occupations, i am sure no apology is necessary for keeping their letters so much longer unanswered, than my inclination would lead me to do. i shall therefore offer no excuse for not having sooner acknowledged the receipt of your letter of the st of june [july]. my thanks, however, for the token of your remembrance, in the fifty copies of '_the rights of man_,' are offered with no less cordiality, than they would have been had i answered your letter in the first moment of receiving it. "the duties of my office, which at all times, especially during the session of congress, require an unremitting attention, naturally become more pressing towards the close of it; and as that body have resolved to rise tomorrow, and as i have determined, in case they should, to set out for mount vernon on the next day, you will readily conclude that the present is a busy moment with me; and to that i am persuaded your goodness will impute my not entering into the several points touched upon in your letter. let it suffice, therefore, at this time, to say, that i rejoice in the information of your personal prosperity, and, as no one can feel a greater interest in the happiness of mankind than i do, that it is the first wish of my heart, that the enlightened policy of the present age may diffuse to all men those blessings, to which they are entitled, and lay the foundation of happiness for future generations.--with great esteem, i am, dear sir &c. "p. s. since writing the foregoing, i have received your letter of the th of february, with the twelve copies of your new work, which accompanied it, and for which you must accept my additional thanks." there is no lack of personal cordiality in this letter, but one may recognize in its ingenious vagueness, in its omission of any acknowledgment of the dedication of paine's book, that he mistrusts the european revolution and its american allies. chapter xxi. founding the european republic it has already been mentioned that john adams had been proclaimed in france the author of "common sense."* the true author was now known, but, as the anti-monarchal parts of his work were expurgated, paine, in turn, was supposed to be a kind of john adams--a revolutionary royalist. this misunderstanding was personally distasteful, but it had the important compensation of enabling paine to come before europe with a work adapted to its conditions, essentially different from those of america to which "common sense" was addressed in . it was a matter of indifference to him whether the individual executive was called "king "or "president." he objected to the thing, not the name, but as republican superstition had insisted on it in america there was little doubt that france would follow the example. under these circumstances paine made up his mind that the republican principle would not be lost by the harmonizing policy of preserving the nominal and ornamental king while abolishing his sovereignty. the erection of a tremendous presidential power in the united states might well suggest to so staunch a supporter of ministerial government that this substance might be secured under a show of royalty. dr. robinet considers it a remarkable "prophecy" that paine should have written in of an approaching alliance of "the majesty of the sovereign with the majesty of the nation" in france. this was opposed to the theories of jefferson, but it was the scheme of mirabeau, the hope of lafayette, and had not the throne been rotten this prudent policy might have succeeded. it was with an eye to france as well as to england that paine, in his reply to burke, had so carefully distinguished between executive sovereignty subject to law and personal monarchy. * "when i arrived in france, the french naturally had a great many questions to settle. the first was whether i was the famous adams, 'ah, le fameux adams.' in order to speculate a little upon this subject, the pamphlet 'common sense' had been printed in the 'affaires de l'angle-terre et de l'amerique,' and expressly ascribed to mr. adams, 'the celebrated member of congress.' it must be further known that although the pamphlet 'common sense' was received in france and in all europe with rapture, yet there were certain parts of it that they did not dare to publish in france. the reasons of this any man may guess. 'common sense' undertakes to prove that monarchy is unlawful by the old testament they therefore gave the substance of it, as they said; and paying many compliments to mr. adams, his sense and rich imagination, they were obliged to ascribe some parts of it to republican zeal. when i arrived at bordeaux all that i could say or do would not convince anybody but that i was the fameux adams. 'c'est un homme calibre. votre nom est bien connu ici.'"--"works of john adams," vol. iii., p. . this was in , and when adams entered on his official duties at paris the honors thrust upon him at bordeaux became burdensome. when the last proof of his book was revised paine sped to paris, and placed it in the hand of his friend m. lanthenas for translation. mirabeau was on his death-bed, and paine witnessed that historic procession, four miles long, which bore the orator to his shrine. witnessed it with relief, perhaps, for he is ominously silent concerning mirabeau. with others he strained his eyes to see the coming man; with others he sees formidable danton glaring at lafayette; and presently sees advancing softly between them the sentimental, philanthropic--robespierre. it was a happy hour for paine when, on a day in may, he saw robespierre rise in the national assembly to propose abolition of the death penalty. how sweet this echo of the old "testimonies" of thetford quaker meetings. "capital punishment," cries robespierre, "is but a base assassination--punishing one crime by another, murder with murder. since judges are not infallible they have no right to pronounce irreparable sentences." he is seconded by the jurist duport, who says impressively: "let us at least make revolutionary scenes as little tragic as possible! let us render man honorable to man!" marat, right man for the role, answered with the barbaric demand "blood for blood," and prevailed. but paine was won over to robespierre by this humane enthusiasm. the day was to come when he must confront robespierre with a memory of this scene. that robespierre would supersede lafayette paine could little imagine. the king was in the charge of the great friend of america, and never had country a fairer prospect than france in those beautiful spring days. but the royal family fled. in the early morning of june st lafayette burst into paine's bedroom, before he was up, and cried: "the birds are flown!" "it is well," said paine; "i hope there will be no attempt to recall them." hastily dressing, he rushed out into the street, and found the people in uproar. they were clamoring as if some great loss had befallen them. at the hotel deville lafayette was menaced by the crowd, which accused him of having assisted the king's flight, and could only answer them: "what are you complaining of? each of you saves twenty sous tax by suppression of the civil list." paine encounters his friend thomas christie. "you see," he said, "the absurdity of monarchical governments; here will be a whole nation disturbed by the folly of one man."* * the letter of christie (priestley's nephew), written june d, appeared in the london morning chronicle, june th. here was marat's opportunity. his journal, _l'ami du peuple_, clamored for a dictator, and for the head of lafayette. against him rose young bonneville, who, in _la bouche de fer_ wrote: "no more kings! no dictator! assemble the people in the face of the sun; proclaim that the law alone shall be sovereign,--the law, the law alone, and made for all!" bonneville's words in his journal about that time were apt to be translations from the works of his friend paine, with whom his life was afterwards so closely interwoven. the little group of men who had studied paine, ardent republicans, beheld a nation suddenly become frantic to recover a king who could not be of the slightest value to any party in the state. the miserable man had left a letter denouncing all the liberal measures he had signed since october, , which sealed his doom as a monarch. the appalling fact was revealed that the most powerful revolutionists--robespierre and marat especially--had never considered a republic, and did not know what it was. on june th, paine was a heavy-hearted spectator of the return of the arrested king. he had personal realization that day of the folly of a people in bringing back a king who had relieved them of his presence. he had omitted to decorate his hat with a cockade, and the mob fell on him with cries of "aristocrat! a la lanterne!" after some rough handling he was rescued by a frenchman who spoke english, and explained the accidental character of the offence. poor paine's quaker training had not included the importance of badges, else the incident had revealed to him that even the popular rage against louis was superstitious homage to a cockade. never did friend of the people have severer proofs that they are generally wrong. in america, while writing as with his heart's blood the first plea for its independence, he was "shadowed" as a british spy; and in france he narrowly escapes the aristocrat's lantern, at the very moment when he was founding the first republican society, and writing its declaration. this "société républicaine," as yet of five members, inaugurated itself on july st, by placarding paris with its manifesto, which was even nailed on the door of the national assembly. "brethren and fellow citizens: "the serene tranquillity, the mutual confidence which prevailed amongst us, during the time of the late king's escape, the indifference with which we beheld him return, are unequivocal proofs that the absence of a king is more desirable than his presence, and that he is not only a political superfluity, but a grievous burden, pressing hard on the whole nation. "let us not be imposed upon by sophisms; all that concerns this is reduced to four points. "he has abdicated the throne in having fled from his post. abdication and desertion are not characterized by the length of absence; but by the single act of flight. in the present instance, the act is everything, and the time nothing. "the nation can never give back its confidence to a man who false to his trust, perjured to his oath, conspires a clandestine flight, obtains a fraudulent passport, conceals a king of france under the disguise of a valet, directs his course towards a frontier covered with traitors and deserters, and evidently meditates a return into our country, with a force capable of imposing his own despotic laws. "whether ought his flight to be considered as his own act, or the act of those who fled with him? was it a spontaneous resolution of his own, or was it inspired into him by others? the alternative is immaterial; whether fool or hypocrite, idiot or traitor, he has proved himself equally unworthy of the important functions that had been delegated to him. "in every sense that the question can be considered, the reciprocal obligation which subsisted between us is dissolved. he holds no longer any authority. we owe him no longer obedience. we see in him no more than an indifferent person; we can regard him only as louis capet. "the history of france presents little else than a long series of public calamity, which takes its source from the vices of the kings; we have been the wretched victims that have never ceased to suffer either for them or by them. the catalogue of their oppressions was complete, but to complete the sum of their crimes, treason yet was wanting. now the only vacancy is filled up, the dreadful list is full; the system is exhausted; there are no remaining errors for them to commit, their reign is consequently at an end. "what kind of office must that be in a government which requires neither experience nor ability to execute? that may be abandoned to the desperate chance of birth, that may be filled with an idiot, a madman, a tyrant, with equal effect as by the good, the virtuous, and the wise? an office of this nature is a mere nonentity: it is a place of show, not of use. let france then, arrived at the age of reason, no longer be deluded by the sound of words, and let her deliberately examine, if a king, however insignificant and contemptible in himself, may not at the same time be extremely dangerous. "the thirty millions which it costs to support a king in the éclat of stupid brutal luxury, presents us with an easy method of reducing taxes, which reduction would at once release the people, and stop the progress of political corruption. the grandeur of nations consists, not, as kings pretend, in the splendor of thrones, but in a conspicuous sense of their own dignity, and in a just disdain of those barbarous follies and crimes, which, under the sanction of royalty have hitherto desolated europe. "as to the personal safety of louis capet, it is so much the more confirmed, as france will not stoop to degrade herself by a spirit of revenge against a wretch who has dishonored himself. in defending a just and glorious cause, it is not possible to degrade it, and the universal tranquillity which prevails is an undeniable proof, that a free people know how to respect themselves." malouet, a leading royalist member, tore down the handbill, and, having ascertained its author, demanded the prosecution of thomas paine and achille duchatelet. he was vehemently supported by martineau, deputy of paris, and for a time there was a tremendous agitation. the majority, not prepared to commit themselves to anything at all. * "how great is a calm, couchant people! on the morrow men will say to one another, 'we have no king, yet we slept sound enough.' on the morrow achille duchatelet, and thomas paine, the rebellious needleman, shall have the walls of paris profusely plastered with their placard, announcing that there must be a republic."--carlyle. dumont ("recollections of mirabeau") gives a particular account of this paper, which duchatelet wished him to translate. "paine and he, the one an american, the other a young thoughtless member of the french nobility, put themselves forward to change the whole system of government in france." lafayette had been sounded, but said it would take twenty years to bring freedom to maturity in france. "but some of the seed thrown out by the audacious hand of paine began to bud forth in the minds of many leading individuals." (e. g. condorcet, brissot, petion, claviere.) voted the order of the day, affecting, says henri martin, a disdain that hid embarrassment and inquietude. this document, destined to reappear in a farther crisis, and the royalist rage, raised paine's republican club to vast importance. even the jacobins, who had formally declined to sanction republicanism, were troubled by the discovery of a society more radical than themselves. it was only some years later that it was made known (by paine) that this formidable association consisted of five members, and it is still doubtful who these were. certainly paine, achille duchatelet, and condorcet; probably also brissot, and nicolas bonneville. in order to avail itself of this tide of fame, the société républicaine started a journal,--_the republican._* the time was not ripe, however; only one copy appeared; that, however, contained a letter by paine, written in june, which excited considerable flutter. to the reader of to-day it is mainly interesting as showing paine's perception that the french required instruction in the alphabet of republicanism; but, amid its studied moderation, there was a paragraph which the situation rendered pregnant: * "le republicain; on le defenseur du gouvernement representatif; par une société des républicans. a paris. july . no. ." "whenever the french constitution shall be rendered conformable to its declaration of rights, we shall then be enabled to give to france, and with justice, the appellation of a _civic empire_; for its government will be the empire of laws, founded on the great republican principles of _elective representation_ and the rights of man. but monarchy and hereditary succession are incompatible with the _basis_ of its constitution." now this was the very constitution which paine, in his answer to burke, had made comparatively presentable; to this day it survives in human memory mainly through indulgent citations in "the rights of man." those angels who, in the celestial war, tried to keep friendly with both sides, had human counterparts in france, their constitutional oracle being the abbé sievès. he had entered warmly into the revolution, invented the name "national assembly," opposed the veto power, supported the declaration of rights. but he had a superstitious faith in individual executive, which, as an opportunist, he proposed to vest in the reigning house. this class of "survivals" in the constitution were the work of sieyès, who was the brain of the jacobins, now led by robespierre, and with him ignoring republicanism for no better reason than that their title was "société des amis de la constitution."* sieyès petted his constitution maternally, perhaps because nobody else loved it, and bristled at paine's criticism. he wrote a letter to the _moniteur_, asserting that there was more liberty under a monarchy than under a republic he announced his intention of maintaining monarchical executive against the new party started into life by the king's flight. in the same journal (july th,) paine accepts the challenge "with pleasure."** paine himself was something of an opportunist; as in america he had favored reconciliation with george iii. up to the lexington massacre, so had he desired a _modus vivendi_ with louis xvi. up to his flight.* but now he unfurls the anti-monarchical flag. * the club, founded in , was called "jacobin," because they met in the hall of the dominicans, who had been called jacobins from the street st. jacques in which they were first established, anno . ** it was probably this letter that gouverneur morris alludes to in his "diary," when, writing of a fourth of july dinner given by mr. short (u. s. chargé d'affaires), he mentions the presence of paine, "inflated to the eyes and big with a letter of revolutions." *** in this spirit was written part i. of "the rights of man" whose translation by m. lanthenas, with new preface, appeared in may. sieyès agreed that "hereditaryship" was theoretically wrong, "but," he said, "refer to the histories of all elective monarchies and principalities: is there one in which the elective mode is not worse than the hereditary succession?" for notes on this incident see professor f. a. aulard's important work, "les orateurs de l'assemblee constituante," p. . also henri martin's "histoire de france," i., p. . "i am not the personal enemy of kings. quite the contrary. no man wishes more heartily than myself to see them all in the happy and honorable state of private individuals; but i am the avowed, open, and intrepid enemy of what is called monarchy; and i am such by principles which nothing can either alter or corrupt--by my attachment to humanity; by the anxiety which i feel within myself for the dignity and honor of the human race; by the disgust which i experience when i observe men directed by children and governed by brutes; by the horror which all the evils that monarchy has spread over the earth excite within my breast; and by those sentiments which make me shudder at the calamities, the exactions, the wars, and the massacres with which monarchy has crushed mankind: in short, it is against all the hell of monarchy that i have declared war." in reply sieyès used the terms "monarchy" and "republic" in unusual senses. he defines "republic" as a government in which the executive power is lodged in more than one person, "monarchy" as one where it is entrusted to one only. he asserted that while he was in this sense a monarchist paine was a "polycrat." in a republic all action must finally lodge in an executive council deciding by majority, and nominated by the people or the national assembly. sieyès did not, however, care to enter the lists. "my letter does not announce that i have leisure to enter into a controversy with republican _polycrats_." paine now set out for london. he travelled with lord daer and etienne dumont, mirabeau's secretary. dumont had a pique against paine, whose republican manifesto had upset a literary scheme of his,--to evoke mirabeau from the tomb and make him explain to the national assembly that the king's flight was a court plot, that they should free louis xvi. from aristocratic captivity, and support him. but on reading the paine placard, "i determined," says dumont, "for fear of evil consequences to myself, to make mirabeau return to his tomb."* dumont protests that paine was fully convinced that the world would be benefited if all other books were burned except "the rights of man," and no doubt the republican apostle had a sublime faith in the sacred character of his "testimonies" against kings. without attempting to determine whether this was the self-reliance of humility or egoism, it may be safely affirmed that it was that which made paine's strokes so effective. * "souvenirs sur mirabeau." par etienne dumont. it may also be remarked again that paine showed a prudence with which he has not been credited. thus, there is little doubt that this return to london was in pursuance of an invitation to attend a celebration of the second anniversary of the fall of the bastille. he arrived at the white bear, piccadilly, the day before (july th), but on finding that there was much excitement about his republican manifesto in france he concluded that his presence at the meeting might connect it with movements across the channel, and did not attend. equal prudence was not, however, displayed by his opponents, who induced the landlord of the crown and anchor to close his doors against the advertised meeting. this effort to prevent the free assemblage of englishmen, and for the humane purpose of celebrating the destruction of a prison whose horrors had excited popular indignation, caused general anger. after due consideration it was deemed opportune for those who sympathized with the movement in france to issue a manifesto on the subject. it was written by paine, and adopted by a meeting held at the thatched house tavern, august th, being signed by john home tooke, as chairman. this "address and declaration of the friends of universal peace and liberty," though preceded by the vigorous "declaration of the volunteers of belfast," quoted in its second paragraph, was the earliest warning england received that the revolution was now its grim guest. "friends and fellow citizens: at a moment like the present, when wilful misrepresentations are industriously spread by partizans of arbitrary power and the advocates of passive obedience and court government, we think it incumbent upon us to declare to the world our principles, and the motives of our conduct. "we rejoice at the glorious event of the french revolution. if it be asked, 'what is the french revolution to us?' we answer as has already been answered in another place, 'it is much--much to us as men; much to us as englishmen. as men, we rejoice in the freedom of twenty-five millions of men. "we rejoice in the prospect which such a magnificent example opens to the world.' "we congratulate the french nation for having laid the ax; to the root of tyranny, and for erecting government on the sacred hereditary rights of man; rights which appertain to all, and not to any one more than another. "we know of no human authority superior to that of a whole nation; and we profess and claim it as our principle that every nation has at all times an inherent and indefeasable right to constitute and establish such government for itself as best accords with its disposition, interest, and happiness. "as englishmen we also rejoice, because we are immediately interested in the french revolution. "without inquiring into the justice, on either side, of the reproachful charges of intrigue and ambition which the english and french courts have constantly made on each other, we confine ourselves to this observation,--that if the court of france only was in fault, and the numerous wars which have distressed both countries are chargeable to her alone, that court now exists no longer, and the cause and the consequence must cease together. the french therefore, by the revolution they have made, have conquered for us as well as for themselves, if it be true that this court only was in fault, and ours never. "on this side of the case the french revolution concerns us immediately: we are oppressed with a heavy national debt, a burthen of taxes, an expensive administration of government, beyond those of any people in the world. "we have also a very numerous poor; and we hold that the moral obligation of providing for old age, helpless infancy, and poverty, is far superior to that of supplying the invented wants of courtly extravagance, ambition, and intrigue. "we believe there is no instance to be produced but in england, of seven millions of inhabitants, which make but little more than one million families, paying yearly seventeen millions of taxes. "as it has always been held out by the administrations that the restless ambition of the court of france rendered this ex-pences necessary to us for our own defence, we consequently rejoice, as men deeply interested in the french revolution; for that court, as we have already said, exists no longer, and consequently the same enormous expences need not continue to us. "thus rejoicing as we sincerely do, both as men and englishmen, as lovers of universal peace and freedom, and as friends to our national prosperity and reduction of our public expences, we cannot but express our astonishment that any part or any members of our own government should reprobate the extinction of that very power in france, or wish to see it restored, to whose influence they formerly attributed (whilst they appeared to lament) the enormous increase of our own burthens and taxes. what, then, are they sorry that the pretence for new oppressive taxes, and the occasion for continuing many old taxes, will be at an end? if so, and if it is the policy of courts and court government to prefer enemies to friends, and a system of war to that of peace, as affording more pretences for places, offices, pensions, revenue and taxation, it is high time for the people of every nation to look with circumspection to their own interest. "those who pay the expences, and not those who participate in the emoluments arising from them, are the persons immediately interested in inquiries of this kind. we are a part of that national body on whom this annual expence of seventeen millions falls; and we consider the present opportunity of the french revolution as a most happy one for lessening the enormous load under which this nation groans. if this be not done we shall then have reason to conclude that the cry of intrigue and ambition against other courts is no more than the common cant of all courts. "we think it also necessary to express our astonishment that a government desirous of being called free, should prefer connexion with the most despotic and arbitrary powers in europe. we know of none more deserving this description than those of turkey and prussia, and the whole combination of german despots. "separated as we happily are by nature from the tumults of the continent, we reprobate all systems and intrigues which sacrifice (and that too at a great expence) the blessings of our natural situation. such systems cannot have a natural origin. "if we are asked what government is, we hold it to be nothing more than a national association; and we hold that to be the best which secures to every man his rights and promotes the greatest quantity of happiness with the least expence. we live to improve, or we live in vain; and therefore we admit of no maxims of government or policy on the mere score of antiquity or other men's authority, the old whigs or the new. "we will exercise the reason with which we are endued, or we possess it unworthily. as reason is given at all times, it is for the purpose of being used at all times. "among the blessings which the french revolution has produced to that nation we enumerate the abolition of the feudal system, of injustice, and of tyranny, on the th of august, . beneath the feudal system all europe has long groaned, and from it england is not yet free. game laws, borough tenures, and tyrannical monopolies of numerous kinds still remain amongst us; but rejoicing as we sincerely do in the freedom of others till we shall haply accomplish our own, we intended to commemorate this prelude to the universal extirpation of the feudal system by meeting on the anniversary of that day (the th of august) at the crown and anchor: from this meeting we were prevented by the interference of certain unnamed and sculking persons with the master of the tavern, who informed us that on their representation he would not receive us. let those who live by or countenance feudal oppressions take the reproach of this ineffectual meanness and cowardice to themselves: they cannot stifle the public declaration of our honest, open, and avowed opinions. these are our principles, and these our sentiments; they embrace the interest and happiness of the great body of the nation of which we are a part. as to riots and tumults, let those answer for them who by wilful misrepresentations endeavour to excite and promote them; or who seek to stun the sense of the nation, and lose the great cause of public good in the outrages of a mis-informed mob. we take our ground on principles that require no such riotous aid. "we have nothing to apprehend from the poor for we are pleading their cause; and we fear not proud oppression for we have truth on our side. "we say and we repeat it that the french revolution opens to the world an opportunity in which all good citizens must rejoice, that of promoting the general happiness of man, and that it moreover offers to this country in particular an opportunity of reducing our enormous taxes: these are our objects, and we will pursue them." a comparative study of paine's two republican manifestos--that placarded in paris july st, and this of august th to the english--reveals the difference between the two nations at that period. no break with the throne in england is suggested, as none had been declared in france until the king had fled, leaving behind him a virtual proclamation of war against all the reforms he had been signing since . the thatched house address leaves it open for the king to take the side of the republic, and be its chief. the address is simply an applied "declaration of rights." paine had already maintained, in his reply to burke, that the english monarch was an importation unrelated to the real nation, "which is left to govern itself, and does govern itself, by magistrates and juries, almost on its own charge, on republican principles." his chief complaint is that royalty is an expensive "sinecure." so far had george iii. withdrawn from his attempt to govern as well as reign, which had ended so disastrously in america. the fall of the french king who had aided the american "rebellion" was probably viewed with satisfaction by the english court, so long as the revolution confined itself to france. but now it had raised its head in england, and the alarm of aristocracy was as if it were threatened with an invasion of political cholera. the disease was brought over by paine. he must be isolated. but he had a hold on the people, including a large number of literary men, and nonconformist preachers. the authorities, therefore, began working cautiously, privately inducing the landlords of the crown and anchor and the thatched house to refuse their rooms to the "painites," as they were beginning to be called but this was a confession of paine's power. indeed all opposition at that time was favorable to paine. publicola's reply to "the rights of man," attributed to vice-president adams, could only heighten paine's fame; for john adams' blazing court-dress, which amused us at the centenary ( ), was not forgotten in england; and while his influence was limited to court circles, the entrance of so high an official into the arena was accepted as homage to the author. the publication at the same time of the endorsement of paine's "rights of man" by the secretary of state, the great jefferson, completed the triumph. the english government now had paine on its hands, and must deal with him in one way or another. the closing of one door after another of the usual places of assembly to sympathizers with the republican movement in france, being by hidden hands, could not be charged upon pitt's government; it was, however, a plain indication that a free expression through public meetings could not be secured without risk of riots. and probably there would have been violent scenes in london had it not been for the moderation of the quaker leader. at this juncture paine held a supremacy in the constitutional clubs of england and ireland equal to that of robespierre over the jacobins of paris. he had the giant's strength, but did not use it like a giant. he sat himself down in a quiet corner of london, began another book, and from time to time consulted his cabinet of reformers. his abode was with thomas rickman, a bookseller, his devoted friend. he had known rickman at lewes, as a youthful musical genius of the club there, hence called "clio." he had then set some song of paine's to music, and afterwards his american patriotic songs, as well as many of his own. he now lived in london with wife and children--these bearing names of the great republicans, beginning with thomas paine,--and with them the author resided for a time. a particular value, therefore, attaches to the following passages in rickman's book: "mr. paine's life in london was a quiet round of philosophical leisure and enjoyment. it was occupied in writing, in a small epistolary correspondence, in walking about with me to visit different friends, occasionally lounging at coffee-houses and public places, or being visited by a select few. lord edward fitzgerald, the french and american ambassadors, mr. sharp the engraver, romney the painter, mrs. wolstonecraft, joel barlow, mr. hull, mr. christie, dr. priestley, dr. towers, col. oswald, the walking stewart, captain sampson perry, mr. tuffin, mr. william choppin, captain de stark, mr. home tooke, &c. &c. were among the number of his friends and acquaintance; and of course, as he was my inmate, the most of my associates were frequently his. at this time he read but little, took his nap after dinner, and played with my family at some game in the evening, as chess, dominos, and drafts, but never at cards; in recitations, singing, music, &c; or passed it in conversation: the part he took in the latter was always enlightened, full of information, entertainment, and anecdote. occasionally we visited enlightened friends, indulged in domestic jaunts and recreations from home, frequently lounging at the white bear, picadilly, with his old friend the walking stewart, and other clever travellers from france, and different parts of europe and america. when by ourselves we sat very late, and often broke in on the morning hours, indulging the reciprocal interchange of affectionate and confidential intercourse. 'warm from the heart and faithful to its fires' was that intercourse, and gave to us the 'feast of reason and the flow of soul.'" "mr. paine in his person was about five feet ten inches high, and rather athletic; he was broad shouldered, and latterly stooped a little. his eye, of which the painter could not convey the exquisite meaning, was full, brilliant, and singularly piercing; it had in it the 'muse of fire.' in his dress and person he was generally very cleanly, and wore his hair cued, with side curls, and powdered, so that he looked altogether like a gentleman of the old french school. his manners were easy and gracious; his knowledge was universal and boundless; in private company and among his friends his conversation had every fascination that anecdote, novelty and truth could give it. in mixt company and among strangers he said little, and was no public speaker." paine does not appear to have ever learned that his name had been pressed for a place in washington's cabinet, and apparently he did not know until long after it was over what a tempest in jefferson's teapot his book had innocently caused. the facts came to him while he was engaged on his next work, in which they are occasionally reflected. in introducing an english friend to william short, u. s. chargé d'affaires at paris, under date of november d, paine reports progress: "i received your favour conveying a letter from mr. jefferson and the answers to publicola for which i thank you. i had john adams in my mind when i wrote the pamphlet and it has hit as i expected. "m. lenobia who presents you this is come to pass a few days at paris. he is a bon republicain and you will oblige me much by introducing him among our friends of bon foi. i am again in the press but shall not be out till about christmas, when the town will begin to fill. by what i can find, the government gentry begin to threaten. they have already tried all the under-plots of abuse and scurrility without effect; and have managed those in general so badly as to make the work and the author the more famous; several answers also have been written against it which did not excite reading enough to pay the expence of printing. "i have but one way to be secure in my next work which is, to go further than in my first. i see that _great rogues_ escape by the excess of their crimes, and, perhaps, it may be the same in honest cases. however, i shall make a pretty large division in the public opinion, probably too much so to encourage the government to put it to issue, for it will be rather like begging them than me. "by all the accounts we have here, the french emigrants are in a hopeless condition abroad; for my own part i never saw anything to fear from foreign courts--they are more afraid of the french revolution than the revolution needs to be of them; and the same caution which they take to prevent the french principles getting among their armies, will prevent their sending armies among the principles. "we have distressing accounts here from st. domingo. it is the natural consequence of slavery and must be expected every where. the negroes are enraged at the opposition made to their relief and are determined, if not to relieve themselves to punish their enemies. we have no new accounts from the east indies, and people are in much doubt. i am, affectionately yours, thomas paine." the "scurrility" referred to may have been that of george chalmers, elsewhere mentioned. two days after this letter to short was written paine received a notable ovation. there was a so-called "revolution society" in london, originally formed by a number of prominent dissenters. the society had manifested its existence only by listening to a sermon on the anniversary of the revolution of (november th) and thereafter dining together. it had not been supposed to interest itself in any later revolution until . in that year the annual sermon was delivered by dr. richard price, the unitarian whose defence of the american revolution received the thanks of congress. in price and burke stood shoulder to shoulder, but the sermon of sundered them. it was "on the love of our country," and affirmed the constitutional right of the english people to frame their own government, to choose their own governors, and to cashier them for misconduct. this was the "red rag" that drew burke into the arena. dr. price died april , , and his great discourse gathered new force from the tributes of priestley and others at his grave. he had been a staunch friend of paine, and at the november festival of this year his place was accorded to the man on whom the "constitutionalists" beheld the mantle of price and the wreath of washington. the company at this dinner of at the london tavern, included many eminent men, some of them members of parliament. the old society was transformed--william and mary and passed into oblivion before thomas paine and . it was probably for this occasion that the song was written (by whom i know not)--"paine's welcome to great britain." "he comes--the great reformer comes! cease, cease your trumpets, cease, cease your drums! those warlike sounds offend the ear, peace and friendship now appear: welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, thou reformer, here! "prepare, prepare, your songs prepare, freedom cheers the brow of care; the joyful tidings spread around, monarchs tremble at the sound! freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,-- rights of man, and paine resound!" mr. dignum sang (to the tune of "the tear that bedews sensibility's shrine.") "unfold, father time, thy long records unfold, of noble achievements accomplished of old; when men, by the standard of liberty led, undauntedly conquered or chearfully bled: but now 'midst the triumphs these moments reveal, their glories all fade and their lustre turns pale, while france rises up, and proclaims the decree that tears off their chains, and bids millions be free. "as spring to the fields, or as dew to the flowers. to the earth parched with heat, as the soft dropping showers, as health to the wretch that lies languid and wan, or rest to the weary--is freedom to man! where freedom the light of her countenance gives, there only he triumphs, there only he lives; then seize the glad moment and hail the decree that tears off their chains, and bids millions be free. "too long had oppression and terror entwined those tyrant-formed chains that enslaved the free mind; while dark superstition, with nature at strife, for ages had locked up the fountain of life; but the daemon is fled, the delusion is past, and reason and virtue have triumphed at last; then seize the glad moments, and hail the decree, that tears off their chains, and bids millions be free. "france, we share in the rapture thy bosom that fills, while the genius of liberty bounds o'er thy hills: redundant henceforth may thy purple juice flow, prouder wave thy green woods, and thine olive trees grow! while the hand of philosophy long shall entwine, blest emblems, the laurel, the myrtle and vine, and heaven through all ages confirm the decree that tears off their chains, and bids millions be free!" paine gave as his toast, "the revolution of the world," and no doubt at this point was sung "a new song," as it was then called, written by paine himself to the tune of "rule britannia": "hail, great republic of the world, the rising empire of the west, where famed columbus, with a mighty mind inspired, gave tortured europe scenes of rest. be thou forever, forever great and free, the land of love and liberty. "beneath thy spreading mantling vine, beside thy flowery groves and springs, and on thy lofty, thy lofty mountains' brow, may all thy sons and fair ones sing. chorus. "from thee may rudest nations learn to prize the cause thy sons began; from thee may future, may future tyrants know that sacred are the rights of man. "from thee may hated discord fly, with all her dark, her gloomy train; and o'er thy fertile, thy fertile wide domain may everlasting friendship reign. "of thee may lisping infancy the pleasing wondrous story tell, and patriot sages in venerable mood instruct the world to govern well. "ye guardian angels watch around, from harm protect the new-born state; and all ye friendly, ye friendly nations join, and thus salute the child of fate. be thou forever, forever great and free, the land of love and liberty!" notwithstanding royal tremors these gentlemen were genuinely loyal in singing the old anthem with new words: "god save the rights of man! give him a heart to scan blessings so dear; let them be spread around, wherever man is found, and with the welcome sound ravish his ear!" no report is preserved of paine's speech, but we may feel sure that in giving his sentiment "the revolution of the world" he set forth his favorite theme--that revolutions of nations should be as quiet, lawful, and fruitful as the revolutions of the earth. { } chapter xxii. the right of evolution the abbé sieyès did not escape by declining to stand by his challenge of the republicans. in the second part of "the rights of man" paine considers the position of that gentleman, namely, that hereditary monarchy is an evil, but the elective mode historically proven worse. that both are bad paine agrees, but "such a mode of reasoning on such a subject is inadmissible, because it finally amounts to an accusation of providence, as if she had left to man no other choice with respect to government than between two evils." every now and then this quaker antæus touches his mother earth--the theocratic principle--in this way; the invigoration is recognizable in a religious seriousness, which, however, makes no allowance for the merely ornamental parts of government, always so popular. "the splendor of a throne is the corruption of a state." however, the time was too serious for the utility of bagatelles to be much considered by any. paine engages sieyès on his own ground, and brings historic evidence to prove that the wars of succession, civil and foreign, show hereditary a worse evil than elective headship, as illustrated by poland, holland, and america. but he does not defend the method of either of these countries, and clearly shows that he is, as sieyès said, a "poly-crat," so far as the numerical composition of the executive is concerned.* he affirms, however, that governing is no function of a republican executive. the law alone governs. "the sovereign authority in any country is the power of making laws, and everything else is an official department." *"i have always been opposed to the mode of refining government up to an individual, or what is called a single executive. such a man will always be the chief of a party. a plurality is far better. it combines the mass of a nation better together. and besides this, it is necessary to the manly mind of a republic that it lose the debasing idea of obeying an individual."--paine ms. more than fifty thousand copies of the first part of "the rights of man" had been sold, and the public hungrily awaited the author's next work. but he kept back his proofs until burke should fulfil his promise of returning to the subject and comparing the english and french constitutions. he was disappointed, however, at finding no such comparison in burke's "appeal from the new to the old whigs." it did, however, contain a menace that was worth waiting for. "oldys" (chalmers) says that paine was disappointed at not being arrested for his first pamphlet on "the rights of man," and had, "while fluttering on the wing for paris, hovered about london a whole week waiting to be taken." it is, indeed, possible that he would have been glad to elicit just then a fresh decision from the courts in favor of freedom of speech and of the press, which would strengthen faint hearts. if he had this desire he was resolved not to be disappointed a second time. a publisher (chapman) offered him a thousand guineas for the manuscript of part ii. paine declined; "he wished to reserve it in his own hands." facts afterwards appeared which rendered it probable that this was a ministerial effort to suppress the book.* * paine may, indeed, only have apprehended alterations, which he always dreaded. his friends, knowing how much his antagonists had made of his grammatical faults, sometimes suggested expert revision. "he would say," says richard carlile, "that he only wished to be known as he was, without being decked with the plumes of another." paine's part second was to appear about the first of february, or before the meeting of parliament but the printer (chapman) threw up the publication, alleging its "dangerous tendencies," whereby it was delayed until february th, when it was published by jordan. meanwhile, his elaborate scheme for reducing taxes so resembled that which pitt had just proposed in parliament that the author appended his reasons for believing that his pages had been read by the government clerk, chalmers, and his plan revealed to pitt. "be the case, however, as it may, mr. pitt's plan, little and diminutive as it is, would have made a very awkward appearance had this work appeared at the time the printer had engaged to finish it." at the time (september) when chapman began printing paine's part ii., george chalmers brought to the same press his libellous "life of pain." on learning that chapman was printing paine, chalmers took his book away. as chalmers was a government employe, and his work larger. chapman returned paine's work to him half printed, and the chalmers book was restored to him. as chapman stated in his testimony, and so wrote to paine (january , ), that he was unwilling to go on with the printing because of the dangerous tendency of a part of it, his offer of a thousand guineas for it could only have contemplated its expurgation or total suppression. that it was the latter, and that the money was to be paid by the government, is rendered probable by the evidences in chalmers' book, when it appeared, that he had been allowed the perusal of paine's manuscript while in chapman's hands. chalmers also displays intimate knowledge of chapman's business transactions with paine. in the light of pitt's subsequent career it is a significant fact that, in the beginning of , he should be suspected of stealing paine's thunder! and, indeed, throughout paine's part second the tone towards pitt implies some expectation of reform from him. its severity is that which english agitators for constitutional reform have for a half century made familiar and honorable. the historical student finds mirrored in this work the rosy picture of the united states as seen at its dawn by the disfranchised people of europe, and beside that a burdened england now hardly credible. it includes an historical statement of the powers claimed by the crown and gradually distributed among non-elective peers and class-elective commoners, the result being a combination of all three against admission of the people to any degree of self-government. though the arraignment is heavy, the method of reform is set forth with moderation. particular burdens are pointed out, and england is warned to escape violent revolution by accommodating itself to the new age. it is admitted that no new system need be constructed. "mankind (from the long tyranny of assumed power) have had so few opportunities of making the necessary trials on modes and principles of government, in order to discover the best, _that government is but now beginning to be known_, and experience is yet wanting to determine many particulars." paine frankly retracts an old opinion of his own, that the legislature should be unicameral. he now thinks that, though there should be but one representation, it might secure wiser deliberation to divide it, by lot, into two or three parts. "every proposed bill shall first be debated in those parts, by succession, that they may become hearers of each other, but without taking any vote; after which the whole representation to assemble, for a general debate, and determination by vote." the great necessity is that england shall gather its people, by representation, in convention and frame a constitution which shall contain the means of peaceful development in accordance with enlightenment and necessity. in part i. paine stated his general principles with some reservations, in view of the survival of royalty in the french constitution. in part ii. his political philosophy is freely and fully developed, and may be summarized as follows: . government is the organization of the aggregate of those natural rights which individuals are not competent to secure individually, and therefore surrender to the control of society in exchange for the protection of all rights. . republican government is that in which the welfare of the whole nation is the object. . monarchy is government, more or less arbitrary, in which the interests of an individual are paramount to those of the people generally. . aristocracy is government, partially arbitrary, in which the interests of a class are paramount to those of the people generally. . democracy is the whole people governing themselves without secondary means. . representative government is the control of a nation by persons elected by the whole nation. . the rights of man mean the right of all to representation. democracy, simple enough in small and primitive societies, degenerates into confusion by extension to large populations. monarchy, which originated amid such confusion, degenerates into incapacity by extension to vast and complex interests requiring "an assemblage of practical knowledges which no one individual can possess." "the aristocratical form has the same vices and defects with the monarchical, except that the chance of abilities is better from the proportion of numbers." the representative republic advocated by paine is different from merely epitomized democracy. "representation is the delegated monarchy of a nation." in the early days of the american republic, when presidential electors were independent of the constituents who elected them, the filtration of democracy was a favorite principle among republicans. paine evidently regards the representative as different from a delegate, or mere commissioner carrying out instructions. the representatives of a people are clothed with their sovereignty; that, and not opinions or orders, has been transferred to them by constituencies. hence we find paine, after describing the english people as "fools" (p. ), urging representation as a sort of natural selection of wisdom. "whatever wisdom constituency is, it is like a seedless plant; it may be reared when it appears, but it cannot be voluntarily produced. there is always a sufficiency somewhere in the general mass of society for all purposes; but, with respect to the parts of society, it is continually changing place. it rises in one today, in another tomorrow, and has most probably visited in rotation every family of the earth, and again withdrawn. as this is the order of nature, the order of government must follow it, or government will, as we see it does, degenerate into ignorance. the hereditary system therefore, is as repugnant to human wisdom as to human rights; and is as absurd as unjust as the republic of letters brings forward the best literary productions, by giving to genius a fair and universal chance, so the representative system is calculated to produce the wisest laws, by collecting wisdom where it can be found." we have seen that "publicola" (john quincy adams) in his answer to paine's part i. had left the people no right to alter government but the right of revolution, by violence; erskine pointed out that burkes pamphlet had similarly closed every other means of reform. paine would civilize reformation: "formerly, when divisions arose respecting governments, recourse was had to the sword, and civil war ensued. that savage custom is exploded by the new system, and reference is had to national conventions. discussion and the general will arbitrate the question, private opinion yields with a good grace, and order is preserved uninterrupted." thus he is really trying to supplant the right of revolution with the right of evolution: "it is now towards the middle of february. were i to take a turn in the country the trees would present a leafless wintery appearance. as people are apt to pluck twigs as they go along, i perhaps might do the same, and by chance might observe that a single bud on that twig had begun to smell. i should reason very unnaturally, or rather not reason at all to suppose this was the only bud in england which had this appearance. instead of deciding thus, i should instantly conclude that the same appearance was beginning, or about to begin, everywhere; and though the vegetable sleep will continue longer on some trees and plants than others, and though some of them may not blossom for two or three years, all will be in leaf in the summer, except those which are rotten. what pace the political summer may keep with the natural, no human foresight can determine. it is, however, not difficult to perceive that the spring is begun. thus wishing, as i sincerely do, freedom and happiness to all nations, i close the second part." apparently the publisher expected trouble. in the _gazetteer_, january th, had appeared the following notice: "mr. paine, it is known, is to produce another book this season. the composition of this is now past, and it was given a few weeks since to two printers, whose presses it was to go through as soon as possible. they printed about half of it, and then, being alarmed by _some intimations,_ refused to go further. some delay has thus occurred, but another printer has taken it, and in the course of the next month it will appear. its title is to be a repetition of the former, 'the rights of man,' of which the words 'part the second' will shew that it is a continuation." that the original printer, chapman, impeded the publication is suggested by the fact that on february th, thirteen days after the above announcement, paine writes: "mr. chapman, please to deliver to mr. jordan the remaining sheets of the rights of man." and that "some intimations" were received by jordan also may be inferred from the following note and enclosure to him: "february , .--for your satisfaction and my own, i send you the enclosed, tho' i do not apprehend there will be any occasion to use it. if, in case there should, you will immediately send a line for me under cover to mr. johnson, st. paul's church-yard, who will forward it to me, upon which i shall come and answer personally for the work. send also to mr. home tooke.--t. p." "february , .--sir: should any person, under the sanction of any kind of authority, enquire of you respecting the author and publisher of the rights of man, you will please to mention me as the author and publisher of that work, and shew to such person this letter. i will, as soon as i am made acquainted with it, appear and answer for the work personally.--your humble servant, "thomas pain." "mr. jordan, no. fleet-street." some copies were in paine's hands three days before publication, as appears by a note of february th to jefferson, on hearing of morris' appointment as minister to france: "mr. kennedy, who brings this to new york, is on the point of setting out. i am therefore confined to time. i have enclosed six copies of my work for yourself in a parcel addressed to the president, and three or four for my other friends, which i wish you to take the trouble of presenting. "i have just heard of governeur morris's appointment. _it is a most unfortunate one_; and, as i shall mention the same thing to him when i see him, i do not express it to you with the injunction of confidence. he is just now arrived in london, and this circumstance has served, as i see by the french papers, to increase the dislike and suspicion of some of that nation and the national assembly against him. "in the present state of europe it would be best to make no appointments." lafayette wrote washington a strong private protest against morris, but in vain. paine spoke frankly to morris, who mentions him on washington's birthday: "february . i read paine's new publication today, and tell him that i am really afraid he will be punished. he seems to laugh at this, and relies on the force he has in the nation. he seems to become every hour more drunk with self-conceit. it seems, however, that his work excites but little emotion, and rather raises indignation. i tell him that the disordered state of things in france works against all schemes of reformation both here and elsewhere. he declares that the riots and outrages in france are nothing at all. it is not worth while to contest such declarations. i tell him, therefore, that as i am sure he does not mean what he says, i shall not dispute it. visit the duchess of gordon, who tells me that she supposes i give paine his information about america, and speaks very slightly of our situation, as being engaged in a civil war with the indians. i smile, and tell her that britain is also at war with indians, though in another hemisphere." in his appendix paine alludes vaguely to the book of george chalmers ("oldys"). "a ministerial bookseller in picadilly, who has been employed, as common report says, by a clerk of one of the boards closely connected with the ministry (the board of trade and plantations, of which lord hawkesbury is president) to publish what he calls my life (i wish his own life and that of the cabinet were as good,) used to have his books printed at the same printing office that i employed." in his fifth edition chalmers claims that this notice of his work, unaccompanied by any denial of its statements, is an admission of their truth. it looks as if paine had not then seen the book, but he never further alluded to it. there was nothing in chalmers' political or orthographical criticisms requiring answer, and its tar and feathers were so adroitly mixed, and applied with such a masterly hand, that paine had to endure his literary lynching in silence. "nothing can lie like the truth."* * not that chalmers confines himself to perversions of fact. the book bore on its title-page five falsehoods: "pain," instead of "paine": "francis oldys"; "a. m."; "university of pennsylvania"; "with a defence of his writings." there is a marked increase of virulence with the successive editions. the second is in cheap form, and bears at the back of its title this note: "read this, and then hand it to others who are requested to do likewise." chalmers' libels were so ingeniously interwoven with the actual stumbles and humiliations of paine's early life, that the facts could not be told without dragging before the public his mother's corpse, and breaking treaty with his divorced wife. chalmers would have been more successful as a government employe in this business had he not cared more for himself than for his party. by advertising, as we have seen (preface, xv), his first edition as a "defence" of paine's writings he reaped a pecuniary harvest from the painites before the substitution of "review" tempted the burkites. this trick probably enraged more than it converted. the pompous pseudonym covered a vanity weak enough to presently drop its lion skin, revealing ears sufficiently long to expect for a government clerk the attention accorded to a reverend m.a. of the university of pennsylvania. this degree was not only understood in england with a clerical connotation, but it competed with paine's "m.a." from the same institution. the pseudonym also concealed the record of chalmers as a tory refugee from maryland, and an opponent of burke, long enough to sell several editions. but the author was known early in , and was named in an important pamphlet by no means altogether favorable to paine. after rebuking paine for personalities towards men whose station prevents reply, this writer also disagrees with him about the constitution. but he declares that paine has collected the essence of the most venerated writers of europe in the past, and applied the same to the executive government, which cannot stand the test. "the constitution will; but _the present mode of administering that constitution_ must shrink from the comparison. and this is the reason, that foolish mr. rose of the treasury trembles on the bench, and the crafty clerk in lord hawkesbury's office, carries on his base attacks against paine by sap, fights him under the mask of a philadelphia parson, fit disguise for the most impudent falsehoods that ever were published, and stabs him in the dark. but, of this upstart clerk at the cockpit, more hereafter."* * "paine's political and moral maxims, etc. by a free-born englishman. london. printed for h. d. symonds, paternoster row, ." the introductory letter is dated may th. george chalmers being mentioned by name in this and other pamphlets, and nothing like a repudiation coming from him or from "oldys" in any of his ten editions, the libel recoiled on the government, while it damaged paine. the meanness of meeting inconvenient arguments by sniffing village gossip for private scandals was resented, and the calumnies were discounted. nevertheless, there was probably some weakening in the "paineite" ranks. although this "un-english" tracking of a man from his cradle, and masked assassination angered the republicans, it could hardly fail to intimidate some. in every period it has been seen that the largest interests, even the liberties, of english peoples may be placed momentarily at the mercy of any incident strongly exciting the moral sentiment a crafty clerk accuses paine of maltreating his wife; the leader's phalanx of friends is for one instant disconcerted; burke perceives the opportunity and points it out to the king; pitt must show equal jealousy of royal authority; paine is prosecuted. there is little doubt that pitt was forced to this first step which reversed the traditions of english freedom, and gave that minister his historic place as the english robespierre of counter-revolution.* * "pitt 'used to say,' according to lady hester stanhope, 'that tom paine was quite in the right, but then he would add, what am i to do? as things are, if i were to encourage tom paine's opinions we should have a bloody revolution."-- encyclop. britaanica. on may th paine, being at bromley, kent, learned that the government had issued summons against jordan, his publisher. he hastened to london and assumed the expense of jordan's defence. jordan, however, privately compromised the affair by agreeing to plead guilty, surrender his notes relating to paine, and receive a verdict to the author's prejudice--that being really the end of the government's business with the publisher. on may st a summons was left on paine at his london lodgings (rickman's house) to appear at the court of king's bench on june th. on the same day issued a royal proclamation against seditious writings. on may th, in the debate on the proclamation, secretary dundas said in the house of commons that the proceedings against jordan were instituted because mr. paine could not be found. thereupon paine, detecting the unreality of the prosecution of his publisher, addressed a letter to the attorney-general.. alluding to the remark of dundas in parliament, he says: "mr. paine, sir, so far from secreting himself never went a step out of his way, nor in the least instance varied from his usual conduct, to avoid any measure you might choose to adopt with respect to him. it is on the purity of his heart, and the universal utility of the principles and plans which his writings contain, that he rests the issue; and he will not dishonour it by any kind of subterfuge. the apartments which he occupied at the time of writing the work last winter, he has continued to occupy to the present hour, and the solicitors of the prosecution know where to find him; of which there is a proof in their own office, as far back as the st of may, and also in the office of my own attorney.--but admitting, for the sake of the case, that the reason for proceeding against the publication was, as mr. dundas stated, that mr. paine could not be found, that reason can now exist no longer. the instant that i was informed that an information was preparing to be filed against me as the author of, i believe, one of the most useful and benevolent books ever offered to mankind, i directed my attorney to put in an appearance; and as i shall meet the prosecution fully and fairly, and with a good and upright conscience, i have a right to expect that no act of littleness will be made use of on the part of the prosecution towards influencing the future issue with respect to the author. this expression may, perhaps, appear obscure to you, but i am in the possession of some matters which serve to show that the action against the publisher is not intended to be a _real_ action." he then intimates that, if his suspicions should prove well-founded, he will withdraw from his intention of defending the publisher, and proposes that the case against jordan be given up. at the close of his letter paine says: "i believe that mr. burke, finding himself defeated, has been one of the promoters of this prosecution; and i shall return the compliment by shewing, in a future publication, that he has been a masked pensioner at £ per annum for about ten years. thus it is that the public money is wasted, and the dread of public investigation is produced." the secret negotiations with the publisher being thus discovered, no more was heard of jordan, except that his papers were brought out at paine's trial. the information against paine, covering forty-one pages, octavo, is a curiosity. it recites that "thomas paine, late of london, gentleman, being a wicked, malicious, seditious, and ill-disposed person, and being greatly disaffected to our said sovereign lord the now king, and to the happy constitution and government of this kingdom... and to bring them into hatred and contempt, on the sixteenth day of february, in the thirty-second year of the reign of our said present sovereign lord the king, with force and arms at london aforesaid, to wit, in the parish of st. mary le bone, in the ward of cheap, he, the said thomas, wickedly, maliciously and seditiously, did write and publish, and caused to be written and published, a certain false, scandalous, malicious, and seditious libel, of and concerning the said late happy revolution, and the said settlements and limitations of the crown and regal governments of the said kingdoms and dominions... intituled, 'rights of man, part the second, combining principle and practice.'... in one part thereof, according to the tenor and effect following, that is to say, 'all hereditary government is in its nature tyranny. an heritable crown' (meaning, amongst others, the crown of this kingdom) 'or an heritable throne,' (meaning the throne of this kingdom), 'or by what-other fanciful name such things may be called, have no other significant explanation than that mankind are heritable property. to inherit a government is to inherit the people, as if they were flocks and herds.'... 'the time is not very distant when england will laugh at itself for sending to holland, hanover, zell, or brunswick, for men' (meaning the said king william the third, and king george the first) « at the expence of a million a year, who understood neither her laws, her language, nor her interest, and whose capacities would scarcely have fitted them for the office of a parish constable. if government could be trusted to such hands, it must be some easy and simple thing indeed; and materials fit for all the purposes may be found in every town and village in england.' in contempt of our said lord the now king and his laws, to the evil example of all others in like case offending, and against the peace of our said lord the king, his crown and dignity. whereupon the said attorney general of our said lord the king, who for our said lord the king in this behalf, prose-cuteth for our said lord the king, prayeth the consideration of the court here in the premises, and that due process of law may be awarded against him, the said thomas paine, in this behalf, to make him answer to our said lord the king, touching and concerning the premises aforesaid. "to this information the defendant hath appeared, and pleaded not guilty, and thereupon issue is joined." the specifications and quotations in the information are reiterated twice, in one case (paine's note on william and mary centenary), three times.* * "i happened to be in england at the celebration of the centenary of the revolution of . the characters of william and mary have always appeared to me detestable; the one seeking to destroy his uncle, the other her father, to get possession of power themselves; yet, as the nation was disposed to think something of the event, i felt hurt at seeing it ascribe the whole reputation of it to a man who had undertaken it as a job; and who besides what he otherwise got, charged six hundred thousand pounds for the expense of the little fleet that brought him from holland. george the first acted the same close-fisted part as william had done, and bought the duchy of bremen with the money he got from england, two hundred and fifty thousand pounds over and above his pay as king; and, having thus purchased it at the expense of england, added it to his hanoverian dominions for his own private profit. in fact every nation that does not govern itself is governed as a job. england has been the prey of jobs ever since the revolution." it is marvellous that such an author, martial with "force and arms," could still walk freely about london. but the machinery for suppressing thought had always a tendency to rust in england; it had to be refurbished. to the royal proclamation against seditious writings corporations and rotten boroughs responded with loyal addresses. in the debate on that proclamation (may th) secretary dundas and mr. adam had arraigned paine, and he addressed an open letter to the secretary (june th) which was well received. mr. adam had said that: "he had well considered the subject of constitutional publications, and was by no means ready to say that books of science upon government though recommending a doctrine or system different from the form of our constitution were fit objects of prosecution; that if he did, he must condemn harrington for his oceana, sir thomas more for his utopia, and hume for his idea of a perfect commonwealth. but the publication of mr. paine reviled what was most sacred in the constitution, destroyed every principle of subordination, and established nothing in their room." the real difficulty was that paine _had_ put something in the room of hereditary monarchy--not a utopia, but the representative system of the united states. he now again compares the governmental expenses of england and america and their condition. he shows that the entire government of the united states costs less than the english pension list alone. "here is a form and system of government that is better organized than any other government in the world, and that for less than one hundred thousand pounds, and yet every member of congress receives as a compensation for his time and attendance on public business, one pound seven shillings per day, which is at the rate of nearly five hundred pounds a year. this is a government that has nothing to fear. it needs no proclamations to deter people from writing and reading. it needs no political superstition to support it. it was by encouraging discussion and rendering the press free upon all subjects of government, that the principles of government became understood in america, and the people are now enjoying their present blessings under it. you hear of no riots, tumults and disorders in that country; because there exists no cause to produce them. those things are never the effect of freedom, but of restraint, oppression, and excessive taxation." on june th paine appeared in court and was much disappointed by the postponement of his trial to december. lord onslow having summoned a meeting at epsom of the gentry in surrey, to respond to the proclamation, receives due notice. paine sends for presentation to the gentlemen one hundred copies of his "rights of man," one thousand of his "letter to dundas." the bearer is home tooke, who opens his speech of presentation by remarking on the impropriety that the meeting should be presided over by lord onslow, a bed-chamber lord (sinecure) at £ , , with a pension of £ , . tooke, being cut short, his speech was continued by paine, whose two letters to onslow (june th and st) were widely circulated.* * to this noble pensioner and sinecurist he says: "what honour or happiness you can derive from being the principal pauper of the neighborhood, and occasioning a greater expence than the poor, the aged, and the infirm for ten miles round, i leave you to enjoy. at the same time i can see that it is no wonder you should be strenuous in suppressing a book which strikes at the root of these abuses." on june th was written a respectful letter to the sheriff of sussex, or other presiding officer, requesting that it be read at a meeting to be held in lewes. this interesting letter has already been quoted in connection with paine's early residence at lewes. in these letters the author reinforces his accused book, reminds the assemblies of their illegal conduct in influencing the verdict in a pending matter, taunts them with their meanness in seeking to refute by brute force what forty pamphlets had failed to refute by argument. the meeting at lewes, his old town, to respond to the proclamation occurred on the fourth of july. that anniversary of his first cause was celebrated by paine also. notified by his publisher that upwards of a thousand pounds stood to his credit, he directed it to be all sent as a present to the society for constitutional information.* a careful tract of estimates the sales of "the rights of man" up to that year at , copies.** in the opinion of the famous publisher of such literature, richard carlile, the kings proclamation seriously impeded the sale. "one part of the community is afraid to sell, and another to purchase, under such conditions. it is not too much to say that, if 'rights of man' had obtained two or three years' free circulation in england and scotland, it would have produced a similar effect to that which 'common sense' did in the united states." however, the reign of terror had not yet begun in france, nor the consequent reign of panic in england. * the argus, july , . see "biographia addenda," no. til., london, . to the same society paine had given the right to publish his "letter to dundas," "common sense," and "letter to raynal" in new editions. ** "impartial memoirs of the life of thomas paine," london, . there were numbers of small "lives" of paine printed in these years, but most of them were mere stealings from "oldys." chapter xxiii. the deputy for calais in the convention the prosecution of paine in england had its counterpart in a shrine across the channel. the _moniteur_, june , , announces the burning of paine's works at "excester," and the expulsion from manchester of a man pointed out as paine. since april th his "rights of man," sympathetically translated by m. lanthenas, had been in every french home. paine's portrait, just painted in england by romney and engraved by sharpe, was in every cottage, framed in immortelles. in this book the philosophy of visionary reformers took practical shape. from the ashes of rousseau's "contrat social," burnt in paris, rose "the rights of man," no phoenix, but an eagle of the new world, with eye not blinded by any royal sun.* * l'esprit da contrat social; suivi de l'esprit de sens commun do thomas paine. present a la convention. par le citoyen boinvilliers, instituteur et ci-devant membre de plusieurs soci&es litteraires. l'an second. it comes to tell how by union of france and america--of lafayette and washington--the "contrat social" was framed into the constitution of a happy and glorious new earth, over it a new heaven unclouded by priestly power or superstitions. by that book of paine's (part i), the idea of a national convention was made the purpose of the french leaders who were really inspired by an "enthusiasm of humanity." in december, , when the legislature sits paralyzed under royal vetoes, paine's panacea is proposed.* on the tenth of august, , after the massacre of the marseillese by the king's swiss guards, one book, hurled from the window of the mobbed palace, felled an american spectator--robert gilmor, of baltimore--who consoled himself by carrying it home. the book, now in the collection of dr. thomas addis emmet, new york, was a copy of "the thirteen constitutions," translated by franklin's order into french ( ) and distributed among the monarchs of europe.** * "veto after veto; your thumbscrew paralysed! gods and men may see that the legislature is in a false position. as, alas, who is in a true one? voices already murmur for a national convention."--carlyle. ** "constitutions des treize etats-unis de l'amerique." the french king's arms are on the red morocco binding, and on the title a shield, striped and winged; above this thirteen minute stars shaped into one large star, six-pointed. for the particulars of franklin's gift to the monarchs see sparks' "franklin," x., p. . see also p. of this volume. what a contrast between the peace and order amid which the thirteen peoples, when the old laws and authorities were abolished, formed new ones, and these scenes in france! "for upwards of two years from the commencement of the american war," wrote paine, "and a longer period, in several of the american states, there were no established forms of government. the old governments had been abolished, and the country was too much occupied in defence to employ its attention in establishing new governments; yet, during this interval, order and harmony were preserved as inviolate as in any country in europe." when burke pointed to the first riots in france, paine could make a retort: the mob is what your cruel governments have made it, and only proves how necessary the overthrow of such governments. that french human nature was different from english nature he could not admit. liberty and equality would soon end these troubles of transition. on that same tenth of august paine's two great preliminaries are adopted: the hereditary representative is superseded and a national convention is called. the machinery for such convention, the constituencies, the objects of it, had been read in "the rights of man," as illustrated in the united states and pennsylvania, by every french statesman. it was the american republic they were about to found; and notwithstanding the misrepresentation of that nation by its surviving courtiers, these french republicans recognized their real american minister: paine is summoned. * "theorie et pratique des droits de l'homme. par thomas paine, secrettaire da congres au departement des affaires £trangeres pendant la guerre d'araenque, auteur du ' sens commun,' et des reponses a burke. traduit en francais par f. lanthenas, d.m., et par le traducteur du "sens common." a paris: chez les directeurs de l'lmprimerie du cercle social, rue du theatre francais, no. . . l'an quatrierae de la liberte." on august , , the national assembly, on proposal of m. guadet, in the name of the "commission extraordinaire," conferred the title of french citizen on "priestley, payne, ben thorn, wilberforce, clarkson, mackintosh, david williams, gorani, anacharsis clootz, campe, cornielle, paw, n. pestalozzi, washington, hamilton, madison, klopstoc, kosciusko, gilleers." schiller was afterwards added, and on september th the _patriote_ announces the same title conferred on thomas cooper, john home tooke, john oswald, george boies, thomas christie, dr. joseph warner, englishmen, and joel barlow, american.* * "life and letters of joel barlow," etc., by charles burr todd, new york, , p. . paine was elected to the french convention by four different departments--oise, puy-de-dome, somme, and pas-de-calais. the votes appear to have been unanimous. here is an enthusiastic appeal (riom, le septembre) signed by louvet, "auteur de la sentinelle," and thirty-two others, representing nine communes, to paine, that day elected representative of puy-de-dome: "your love for humanity, for liberty and equality, the useful works that have issued from your heart and pen in their defence, have determined our choice. it has been hailed with universal and reiterated applause. come, friend of the people, to swell the number of patriots in an assembly which will decide the destiny of a great people, perhaps of the human race. the happy period you have predicted for the nations has arrived. come! do not deceive their hope!" but already calais, which elected him september th, had sent a municipal officer, achille audibert, to london, to entreat paine's acceptance. paine was so eager to meet the english government in court, that he delayed his answer. but his friends had reason to fear that his martyrdom might be less mild than he anticipated, and urged his acceptance. there had been formed a society of the "friends of liberty," and, at its gathering of september th, paine appears to have poured forth "inflammatory eloquence." at the house of his friend johnson, on the following evening, paine was reporting what he had said to some sympathizers, among them the mystical william blake, who was convinced that the speech of the previous night would be followed by arrest. gilchrist's account of what followed is here quoted: "on paine's rising to leave, blake laid his hand on the orator's shoulder, saying, 'you must not go home, or you are a dead man,' and hurried him off on his way to france, whither he was now in any case bound to take his seat as a legislator. by the time paine was at dover, the officers were in his house, [he was staying at rickman's, in marylebone] and, some twenty minutes after the custom house officials at dover had turned over his slender baggage, narrowly escaped from the english tories. those were hanging days! blake on the occasion showed greater sagacity than paine, whom, indeed, fuseli affirmed to be more ignorant of the common affairs of life than himself even. spite of unworldliness and visionary faculty, blake never wanted for prudence and sagacity in ordinary matters."* * "life of william blake," by alexander gilchrist, p. . before leaving london paine managed to have an interview with the american minister, pinckney, who thought he could do good service in the convention. mr. frost, who accompanied paine and audibert, had information of certain plans of the officials. he guided them to dover by a circuitous route--rochester, sandwich, deal. with what emotions does our world-wanderer find himself in the old town where he married and suffered with his first love, mary lambert, whose grave is near! nor is he so far from cranbrook, where his wife receives her mysterious remittances, but since their separation "has not heard of" this said thomas paine, as her testimony goes some years later. paine is parting from england and its ghosts forever. the travellers find dover excited by the royal proclamation. the collector of customs has had general instructions to be vigilant, and searches the three men, even to their pockets. frost pretended a desire to escape, drawing the scent from paine. in his report (september th) of the search to mr. dundas, paine says: "among the letters which he took out of my trunk were two sealed letters, given into my charge by the american minister in london [pinckney], one of which was addressed to the american minister at paris, the other to a private gentleman; a letter from the president of the united states, and a letter from the secretary of state in america, both directed to me, and which i had received from the american minister, now in london, and were private letters of friendship; a letter from the electoral body of the department of calais, containing the notification of my being elected to the national convention; and a letter from the president of the national assembly informing me of my being also elected for the department of the oise [versailles].... when the collector had taken what papers and letters he pleased out of the trunks, he proposed to read them. the first letter he took up for this purpose was that from the president of the united states to me. while he was doing this i said, that it was very extraordinary that general washington could not write a letter of private friendship to me, without its being subject to be read by a customhouse officer. upon this mr. frost laid his hand over the face of the letter, and told the collector that he should not read it, and took it from him. mr. frost then, casting his eyes on the concluding paragraph of the letter, said, i will read this part to you, which he did; of which the following is an exact transcript--'and as no one can feel a greater interest in the happiness of mankind than i do, it is the first wish of my heart that the enlightened policy of the present age may diffuse to all men those blessings to which they are entitled and lay the foundation of happiness for future generations.'" so washington's nine months' delay (p. ) in acknowledging paine's letter and gift of fifty volumes had brought his letter in the nick of time. the collector quailed before the president's signature. he took away the documents, leaving a list of them, and they were presently returned. soon afterward the packet sailed, and "twenty minutes later" the order for paine's arrest reached dover. too late! baffled pursuers gnash their teeth, and paine passes to his ovation. what the ovation was to be he could hardly anticipate even from the cordial, or glowing, letter of hérault séchelles summoning him to the convention,--a fine translation of which by cobbett is given in the appendix. ancient calais, in its time, had received heroes from across the channel, but hitherto never with joy. that honor the centuries reserved for a thetford quaker. as the packet sails in a salute is fired from the battery; cheers sound along the shore. as the representative for calais steps on french soil soldiers make his avenue, the officers embrace him, the national cockade is presented. a beautiful lady advances, requesting the honor of setting the cockade in his hat, and makes him a pretty speech, ending with liberty, equality, and france. as they move along the rue de l'egalité (late rue du roi) the air rings with "vive thomas paine!" at the town hall he is presented to the municipality, by each member embraced, by the mayor also addressed. at the meeting of the constitutional society of calais, in the _minimes_, he sits beside the president, beneath the bust of mirabeau and the united colors of france, england, and america. there is an official ceremony announcing his election, and plaudits of the crowd, "_vive la nation!_" "_vive thomas paine!_" the _minimes_ proving too small, the meeting next day is held in the church, where martyred saints and miraculous madonnas look down on this miraculous quaker, turned savior of society. in the evening, at the theatre, a box is decorated "for the author of 'the rights of man.'" thus for once our wayfarer, so marked by time and fate, received such welcome as hitherto had been accorded only to princes. alas, that the aged eyes which watched over his humble cradle could not linger long enough to see a vision of this greatness, or that she who bore the name of elizabeth paine was too far out of his world as not even to know that her husband was in europe. a theatrical la france must be his only bride, and in the end play the role of a cruel stepmother. when washington was on his way to his inauguration in new york, passing beneath triumphal arches, amid applauding crowds, a sadness came over him as he reflected, so he wrote a friend, how easily all this enthusiasm might be reversed by a failure in the office for which he felt himself so little competent but for paine on his way to sit in the convention of a people's representatives--one summoned by his own pen for objects to which his life was devoted, for which he had the training of events as well as studies,--for him there could be no black star hovering over his welcome and his triumphal pathway to paris. for, besides his fame, there had preceded him to every town rumors of how this representative of man--of man in america, england, france--had been hunted by british oppressors down to the very edge of their coast. those outwitted pursuers had made paine a greater power in france than he might otherwise have been. the _moniteur_ (september d) told the story, and adds: "probably m. payne will have been indemnified for such injustices by the brilliant reception accorded him on his arrival on french soil." other representatives of calais were personne, carnat, bollet, magniez, varlet, guffroy, eulard, duquesnoy, lebas, daunon. it could hardly be expected that there should be no jealousy of the concentration of enthusiasm on the brilliant anglo-american. however, none of this yet appeared, and paine glided flower-crowned in his beautiful barge, smoothly toward his niagara rapids. he had, indeed, heard the distant roar, in such confused, hardly credited, rumors of september massacres as had reached london, but his faith in the national convention was devout. all the riots were easily explained by the absence of that charm. he had his flask of constitutional oil, other representatives no doubt had theirs, and when they gathered on september st, amid equinoctial gales, the troubled waters would be still. paine reached white's hotel, paris, september th; on the th attends a gathering of the "conventionnels"; on the st moves in their procession to the tuileries, for verification of credentials by the expiring assembly, repairing with them for work in the salle du manege. he was introduced by the abbé grégoire, and received with acclamations. on september st, then, the year one opens. it greets mankind with the decree: "royalty is from this day abolished in france." september d, on a petition from orleans, dan-ton proposes removal of the entire administrative corps, municipal and judicial, to prevent their removal by popular violence. paine (through goupilleau) suggests postponement for more thorough discussion. having got rid of kings they must be rid of royal hirelings; but if partial reforms are made in the judiciary system those institutions cannot possess coherence; for the present persons might be changed without altering laws; finally, justice cannot be administered by men ignorant of the laws. danton welcomes paine's views, and it is decreed that the administrative bodies be renewed by popular election; but the limitations on eligibility, fixed by the constitution of , are abolished--the judge need not be a lawyer, nor the municipal officer a proprietor. on september th appears paine's letter to his "fellow citizens," expressing his "affectionate gratitude" for his adoption and his election. "my felicity is increased by seeing the barrier broken down that divided patriotism by spots of earth, and limited citizenship to the soil, like vegetation." the letter is fairly "floreal" with optimistic felicities. "an over-ruling providence is regenerating the old world by the principles of the new." "it is impossible to conquer a nation determined to be free." "it is now the cause of all nations against the cause of all courts." "in entering on this great scene, greater than any nation has been called to act in, let us say to the agitated mind, be calm! let us punish by instruction, rather than by revenge. let us begin the new era by a greatness of friendship, and hail the approach of union and success." october th, a committee to frame a constitution is appointed, consisting of sieyès, paine, bris-sot, potion, vergniaud, gensonne, barrere, danton, condorcet. supplementary--barbaroux, hérault séchelles, lanthenas, débry, the abbé fauchet, lavicourterie. paine was placed second to his old adversary, sieyès, only because of his unfamiliarity with french. at least four of the committee understood english--condorcet, danton, barrere, and brissot. paine had known brissot in america, their friendship being caused by literary tastes in common, and the zeal of both for negro emancipation. on october th was written for _le patriote francais_ (edited by brissot) an address by paine arguing carefully the fallacies of royalism. he tersely expresses the view now hardly paradoxical, that "a talented king is worse than a fool." "we are astonished at reading that the egyptians set upon the throne a stone, which they called king. well! such a monarch was less absurd and less mischievous than those before whom nations prostrate themselves. at least he deceived no one. none supposed that he possessed qualities or a character. they did not call him father of his people; and yet it would have been scarcely more ridiculous than to give such a title to a blockhead (_un éturdi_) whom the right of succession crowns at eighteen. a dumb idol is better than one animated."' in this letter paine adroitly prepares the way for his purpose of saving the life of louis xvi., for whose blood the thirst is growing. "it is little," he says, "to overthrow the idol; it is the pedestal which must especially be beaten down. it is the kingly _office_, rather than the officer, that is destructive (_meurtriere_). this is not seen by every one." in those who sympathized with the human spirit of his views paine inspired deep affection. a volume might be filled with the personal tributes to him. in paris he was the centre of a loving circle, from the first. "i lodge," writes lord edward fitzgerald to his mother (october th), "with my friend paine--we breakfast, dine, and sup together. the more i see of his interior, the more i like and respect him. i cannot express how kind he is to me; there is a simplicity of manner, a goodness of heart, and a strength of mind in him, that i never knew a man before possess."** * "father of his people" was a title of geo. iii. "father of his country" was applied to peyton randolph, first president of congress. paine's essay, quoted above, which is not included in the editions of paine's works, was printed by james watson in london, , the translation being by w. j. linton, who, while editing the national, also wrote the same year, and for the same publisher, a small but useful "life of paine." ** moore's "life and death of lord edward fitzgerald." paine was chosen by his fellow-deputies of calais to offer the convention the congratulations of their department on the abolition of monarchy. this letter, written october th, was on that day read in convention, in french. "citizen president: in the name of the deputies of the department of pas de calais, i have the honor of presenting to the convention the felicitations of the general council of the commune of calais on the abolition of royalty. "amid the joy inspired by this event, one can not forbear some pain at the folly of our ancestors, who have placed us under the necessity of treating seriously (_solennellement_) the abolition of a phantom. "thomas paine, deputy, etc."* the _moniteur_, without printing the letter, says that applause followed the word "_fantome_" the use of this word was a resumption of paine's effort to save the life of the king, then a prisoner of state, by a suggestion of his insignificance.** but he very soon realizes the power of the phantom, which lies not only in the monarchical trade union of europe but in the superstition of monarchy in those who presently beheaded poor louis. paine was always careful to call him louis capet, but the french deputies took the king seriously to the last. the king's divine foot was on their necks in the moment when their axe was on his. but paine feared a more terrible form which had arisen in place of the royal prisoner of the temple. on the fourth day of the convention marat arose with the words, "it seems a great many here are my enemies," and received the shouted answer, "all! all!" paine had seen marat hypnotize the convention, and hold it subdued in the hollow of his hand. here was king stork ready to succeed king log. * this letter i copied and translated in the historical exhibition of the revolution, in paris, . this letter of the "_philosophe anglais_" as he is described in the catalogue, is in the collection of m. charavay, and was framed with the bonneville portrait of paine. ** in his republican manifesto at the time of the king's flight he had deprecated revenge towards the captured monarch. but what has the convention to do with deciding about louis xvi., or about affairs, foreign or domestic? it is there like the philadelphia convention of ; its business is to frame a constitution, then dissolve, and let the organs it created determine special affairs. so the committee work hard on the constitution; "deputy paine and france generally expect," finds carlyle, "all finished in a few months." but, alas, the phantom is too strong for the political philosophers. the crowned heads of europe are sinking their differences for a time and consulting about this imprisoned brother. and at the same time the subjects of those heads are looking eagerly towards the convention.* * "that which will astonish posterity is that at stockholm, five months after the death of gustavus, and while the northern powers are leaguing themselves against the liberty of france, there has been published a translation of thomas paine's "rights of man," the translator being one of the king's secretaries! "--moniteur nov. , . the foreign menaces had thus far caused the ferocities of the revolution, for france knew it was worm-eaten with enemies of republicanism. but now the duke of brunswick had retreated, the french arms were victorious everywhere; and it is just possible that the suicide of the republic--the reign of terror--might never have been completed but for that discovery (november th) of secret papers walled up in the tuileries. these papers compromised many, revealed foreign schemes, and made all paris shriek "treason!" the smith (gamain) who revealed the locality of that invisible iron press which he had set under the wainscot, made a good deal of history that day. a cry for the king's life was raised, for to france he was the head and front of all conspiracy. how everybody bent under the breath of those days may be seen in the fact that even gouverneur morris is found writing to lord wycombe (november d): "all who wish to partake thereof [freedom] will find in us (ye french) a sure and certain ally. we will chase tyranny, and, above all, _aristocracy_, off the theatre of the universe."* * "diary and letters." the letter was probably written with knowledge of its liability to fall into the hands of the french committee. it could not deceive wycombe. paine was living in the "passage des pétites peres, no. ." there are now two narrow passages of that name, uniting near the church "notre dame des victoires," which still bears the words, "liberty egalité, fraternity." no. has disappeared as a number, but it may have described a part of either no. or no. ,--both ancient. here he was close to a chapel of the capucines, unless, indeed, it had already been replaced by this church, whose interior walls are covered with tablets set up by individuals in acknowledgment of the virgin's miraculous benefits to them. here he might study superstition, and no doubt did; but on november th he has to deal with the madness of a populace which has broken the outer chains of superstition with a superstition of their own, one without restraints to replace the chains. beneath his window the place des victoires will be crowded with revolutionists, frantic under rumors of the discovered iron press and its treasonable papers. he could hardly look out without seeing some poor human scape-goat seeking the altar's safety. our lady will look on him from her church the sad-eyed inquiry: "is this, then, the new religion of liberty, with which you supplant the mother and babe?" paine has carried to success his anti-monarchical faith. he was the first to assail monarchy in america and in france. a little more than a year before, he had founded the first republican society in europe, and written its declaration on the door of the national assembly. sieyès had denounced him then as a "polyarchist." now he sat with sieyès daily, framing a republican constitution, having just felicitated the convention on the abolition of the phantom--royalty. and now, on this terrible night of november th, this unmaker of kings finds himself the solitary deputy ready to risk his life to save the man whose crown he had destroyed. it is not simply because the old quaker heart in him recoils from bloodshed, but that he would save the republic from the peril of foreign invasion, which would surely follow the execution of louis, and from disgrace in america, whose independence owed much to the fallen monarch. in his little room, the lonely author, unable to write french, animated by sentiments which the best of the french revolutionists could not understand--danton reminding him that "revolutions are not made of rose-water"--must have before the morrow's convention some word that shall control the fury of the moment. rose-water will not answer now. louis must pass his ordeal; his secret schemes have been revealed; the treachery of his submissions to the people exposed. he is guilty, and the alternatives are a calm trial, or death by the hands of the mob. what is now most needed is delay, and, that secured, diversion of national rage from the individual louis to the universal anti-republican satan inspiring the crowned heads of europe. before the morning dawns, paine has written his letter to the president it is translated before the convention meets, november st, and is read to that body the same day.* louis xvi., he says, should be tried. the advice is not suggested by vengeance, but by justice and policy. if innocent, he may be allowed to prove it; if guilty, he must be punished or pardoned by the nation. he would, however, consider louis, individually, beneath the notice of the republic. the importance of his trial is that there is a conspiracy of "crowned brigands" against the liberties not only of france, but of all nations, and there is ground for suspecting that louis xvi. was a partner in it. he should be utilized to ferret out the whole gang, and reveal to the various peoples what their monarchs, some of whom work in secret for fear of their subjects, are doing. louis xvi. should not be dealt with except in the interest of all europe. "if, seeing in louis xvi. only a weak and narrow-minded man, badly reared, as all like him, subject, it is said, to intemperance, imprudently re-established by the constituent assembly on a throne for which he was unfit,--if we hereafter show him some compassion, this compassion should be the effect of national magnanimity, and not a result of the burlesque notion of pretended inviolability.'" * "l' histoire parlementaire," xx., p. . ** this essay has suffered in the translation found in english and american editions of paine. the words "national magnanimity" are omitted. the phrase "brigands couronnes" becomes "crowned robbers" in england, and "crowned ruffians" in america. both versions are commonplace, and convey an impression of haste and mere abuse. but paine was a slow writer, and weighed his words even when "quarelling in print. when this letter was written to the convention its members were reading his essay on royalty, which filled seven columns of brissot's patriot francois three weeks before. in that he had traced royalty to the bandit-chief. several troops of banditti assemble for the purpose of upsetting some country, of laying contributions over it, of seizing the landed property, of reducing the people to thraldom. the expedition being accomplished, the chief of the gang assumes the title of king or monarch. such has been the origin of royalty among all nations who live by the chase, agriculture, or the tending of flocks. a second chieftain arriving obtains by force what has been acquired by violence. he despoils his predecessor, loads him with fetters, puts him to death, and assumes his title. in the course of ages the memory of the outrage is lost; his successors establish new forms of government; through policy, they become the instruments of a little good; they invent, or cause to be invented, false genealogical tables; they employ every means to render their race sacred; the knavery of priests steps in to their assistance; for their body-guard they take religion itself; then it is that royalty, or rather tyranny, becomes immortal. a power unjustly usurped is transformed into a hereditary right." lamartine, in his history of the girondists, reproaches paine for these words concerning a king-who had shown him friendship during the american war. but the facts were not well explored in lamartine's time. louis blanc recognizes paine's intent.* * "hist, de la revolution," etc., vol. vii., p. . "he had learned in england that killing a monarch does not kill monarchs." this grand revolutionary proposal to raise the inevitable trial from the low plane of popular wrath against a prisoner to the dignity of a process against european monarchy, would have secured delay and calmer counsels. if the reader, considering the newly discovered papers, and the whole situation, will examine critically paine's words just quoted, he will find them meriting a judgment the reverse of lamartine's. with consummate art, the hourly imperilled king is shielded from vindictive wrath by the considerations that he is _non compos_, not responsible for his bringing up, was put back on the throne by the assembly, after he had left it, acknowledging his unfitness, and that compassion for him would be becoming to the magnanimity of france. a plea for the king's immunity from trial, for his innocence or his virtues, would at that juncture have been fatal. as it was, this ingenious document made an impression on the convention, which ordered it to be printed. * * "convention nationale. opinion de thomas payne, depute" du departement de la somme, concern ant le jugement de louis xvi. precede" de sa lettre d'envoi au president de la convention. imprime" par ordre de la convention nationale. a paris. de rimprimerie nationale." it is very remarkable that, in a state paper, paine should be described as deputy for the somme. his votes in the convention are all entered under calais. dr. john moore, who saw much of paine at this time, says, in his work on the french revolution, that his (paine's) writings for the convention were usually translated into french by the marchioness of condorcet. the delay which paine's proposal would involve was, as louis blanc remarks, fatal to it. it remains now only to work among the members of the convention, and secure if possible a majority that will be content, having killed the king, to save the man; and, in saving him, to preserve him as an imprisoned hostage for the good behavior of europe. this is now paine's idea, and never did man toil more faithfully for another than he did for that discrowned louis capet. chapter xxiv. outlawed in england while paine was thus, towards the close of , doing the work of a humane englishman in france, his works were causing a revolution in england--a revolution the more effectual because bloodless. in paine's letter to secretary dundas (calais, september th), describing the examination of his papers at dover, a "postscript" states that among the papers handled was "a printed proof copy of my letter to the addressers, which will soon be published." this must have been a thumbscrew for the secretary when he presently read the pamphlet that escaped his officers. in humor, freedom, and force this production may be compared with carlyle's "latter day pamphlets." lord stormont and lord grenville having made speeches about him, their services are returned by a speech which the author has prepared for them to deliver in parliament. this satirical eulogy on the british constitution set the fashion for other radical encomiums of the wisdom of the king and of the peers, the incorruptibility of the commons, beauty of rotten boroughs, and freedom of the people from taxes, with which prosecuting attorneys were unable to deal. having felicitated himself on the circulation of his opinions by the indictment, and the advertisements of his books by loyal "addresses," paine taunts the government for its method of answering argument. it had been challenging the world for a hundred years to admire the perfection of its institutions. at length the challenge is taken up, and, lo, its acceptance is turned into a crime, and the only defence of its perfection is a prosecution! paine points out that there was no sign of prosecution until his book was placed within reach of the poor. when cheap editions were clamored for by sheffield, leicester, chester, warwickshire, and scotland, he had announced that any one might freely publish it. about the middle of april he had himself put a cheap edition in the press. he knew he would be prosecuted for that, and so wrote to thomas walker.* * at the trial the attorney-general admitted that he had not prosecuted part i. because it was likely to be confined to judicious readers; but this still more reprehensible part ii. was, he said, with an industry incredible, ushered into the world in all shapes and sizes, thrust into the hands of subjects of every description, even children's sweetmeats being wrapped in it. it was the common people the government feared. he remarks that on the same day (may st) the prosecution was instituted and the royal proclamation issued--the latter being indictable as an effort to influence the verdict in a pending case. he calls attention to the "special jury," before which he was summoned. it is virtually selected by the master of the crown office, a dependant on the civil list assailed in his book. the special jury is treated to a dinner, and given two guineas for a conviction, and but one guinea and no dinner for acquittal. even a fairly selected local jury could not justly determine a constitutional issue affecting every part of the empire. so paine brings under scrutiny every part of the legal machinery sprung on him, adding new illustrations of his charges against the whole system. he begins the siege, which bradlaugh was to carry forward in a later time, against the corrupt pension list, introducing it with his promised exposure of edmund burke. near the end of lord north's administration burke brought in a bill by which it was provided that a pension or annuity might be given without name, if under oath that it was not for the benefit of a member of the house of commons. burke's pension had been taken out under the name of another man; but being under the necessity of mortgaging it, the real pensioner had to be disclosed to the mortgagee.* for the rest, this "address to the addressers," as it was popularly called,--or "part third of the rights of man," as one publisher entitled it,--sowed broadcast through england passages that were recited in assemblies, and sentences that became proverbs. * this disclosure, though not disproved, is passed over silently by most historians. nevertheless it was probably that which ended burke's parliamentary career. two years later, at the age of sixty-two, he retired with an accumulation of pensions given at the king's request, amounting to £ , per annum. his reputation had been built up on his supposed energy in favor of economy. the secret and illegal pension (£ , ) cast light on his sudden coalition with lord north, whom he once proposed to impeach as a traitor. the title of "masked pensioner" given by paine branded burke. writing in cobbett says: "as my lord grenville introduced the name of burke, suffer me, my lord, to introduce that of the man [paine] who put this burke to shame, who drove him off the public stage to seek shelter in the pension list, and who is now named fifty million times where the name of the pensioned burke is mentioned once." "it is a dangerous attempt in any government to say to a nation, _thou shalt not read_." "thought, by some means or other, is got abroad in the world, and cannot be restrained, though reading may." "whatever the rights of the people are, they have a right to them, and none have a right either to withhold or to grant them." "the project of hereditary governors and legislatures was a treasonable usurpation over the rights of posterity." "put a country right, and it will soon put government right." "when the rich plunder the poor of his rights, it becomes an example to the poor to plunder the rich of his property." "who are those that are frightened at reform? are the public afraid their taxes should be lessened too much? are they afraid that sinecure places and pensions should be abolished too fast? are the poor afraid that their condition should be rendered too comfortable?" "a thing moderately good is not so good as it ought to be." "if to expose the fraud and imposition of monarchy, and every species of hereditary government--to lessen the oppression of taxes--to propose plans for the education of helpless infancy, and the comfortable support of the aged and distressed--to endeavour to conciliate nations with each other--to extirpate the horrid practice of war--to promote universal peace, civilization, and commerce--and to break the chains of political superstition, and raise degraded man to his proper rank--if these things be libellous, let me live the life of a libeller, and let the name of libeller be engraven on my tomb." two eminent personages were burnt in effigy in europe about this time, one in france, the other in england: paine and the pope. under date of december th, the american minister (morris) enters in his diary: "several americans dine with me. paine looks a little down at the news from england; he has been burned in effigy." this was the reply of the addressers, the noblemen and gentry, to paine's "letter." it is said that on the fifth of november it was hinted to the boys that their guy fawkes would extort more pennies if labelled "tom paine," and that thenceforth the new guy paraded with a pair of stays under his arm. the holocaust of paines went on through december, being timed for the author's trial, set for the eighteenth. one gets glimpses in various local records and memoirs of the agitation in england. thus in mrs. henry sandford's account of thomas poole,* we read in charlotte poole's journal: "december , .--john dined with tom poole, and from him heard that there was a great bustle at bridgwater yesterday--that tom paine was burnt in effigy, and that he saw richard symes sitting on the cornhill with a table before him, receiving the oaths of loyalty to the king, and affection to the present constitution, from the populace. i fancy this could not have been a very pleasant sight to tom poole, for he has imbibed some of the wild notions of liberty and equality that at present prevail so much; and it is but within these two or three days that a report has been circulated that he has distributed seditious pamphlets to the common people of stowey. but this report is entirely without foundation. everybody at this time talks politicks, and is looking with anxiety for fresh intelligence from france, which is a scene of guilt and confusion." * "thomas poole and his friends." by mrs. henry sandford. new york: macmillan, . in richardson's "borderer's table book" is recorded: " (dec.)--this month, thomas paine, author of the 'rights of man,' &c. &c., was burnt at most of the towns and considerable villages in northumberland and durham." no doubt, among the durham towns, wearmouth saw at the stake an effigy of the man whose iron bridge, taken down at paddington, and sold for other benefit than paine's, was used in spanning the wear with the arch of his invention; all amid shouts of "god save the king," and plaudits for the various public-spirited gentlemen and architects, who patriotically appropriated the merits and patent of the inventor. the _bury post_ (published near paine's birthplace) says, december th: "the populace in different places have been lately amusing themselves by burning effigies. as the culprit on whom they meant to execute this punishment was thomas paine, they were not interrupted by any power civil or military. the ceremony has been at croydon in surrey, at warrington, at lymington, and at plymouth." january , : "on saturday last the effigy of thomas paine was carried round the town of swaffham, and afterwards hung on a gibbet, erected on the market-hill for that purpose. in the evening his remains were committed to the flames amidst acclamations of god save the king, etc." the trial of paine for high treason was by a special jury in the court of king's bench, guildhall, on tuesday, december , , before lord kenyon.* * special jury: john campbell, john lightfoot, christopher taddy, robert oliphant, cornelias donovan, robert rolleston, john lubbock, richard tuckwell, william porter, thomas bruce, isaac railton, henry evans. counsel for the crown: sir archibald macdonald (attorney-general), solicitor- general, mr. bearcroft, mr. baldwin, mr. wood, mr. per- cival. counsel for the defendant: the hon. thomas erskine, mr. piggot, mr. shepherd, mr. fitzgerald, mr. f. vaughan. solicitors: for the crown, messrs. chamberlayne and white; for defendant, mr. bonney. the "painites" had probably little hope of acquittal. in rickman's journal (manuscript) he says: "c. lofft told me he knew a gentleman who tried for five or six years to be on the special juries, but could not, being known to be a liberty man. he says special juries are packed to all intents and purposes." the reason for gathering such powerful counsel for defence must have been to obtain from the trial some definitive adjudication on the legal liabilities of writers and printers, and at the same time to secure, through the authority of erskine, an affirmation of their constitutional rights. lord loughborough and others vainly tried to dissuade erskine from defending paine. for himself, paine had given up the case some time before, and had written from paris, november th, to the attorney-general, stating that, having been called to the convention in france, he could not stay to contest the prosecution, as he wished. "my necessary absence from your country affords the opportunity of knowing whether the prosecution was intended against thomas paine, or against the rights of the people of england to investigate systems and principles of government; for as i cannot now be the object of the prosecution, the going on with the prosecution will show that something else was the object, and that something else can be no other than the people of england.... but i have other reasons than those i have mentioned for writing you this letter; and however you chuse to interpret them they proceed from a good heart. the time, sir, is becoming too serious to play with court prosecutions, and sport with national rights. the terrible examples that have taken place here upon men who, less than a year ago, thought themselves as secure as any prosecuting judge, jury, or attorney-general can do now in england, ought to have some weight with men in your situation. that the government of england is as great, if not the greatest perfection of fraud and corruption that ever took place since governments began, is what you cannot be a stranger to; unless the constant habit of seeing it has blinded your sense. but though you may not chuse to see it, the people are seeing it very fast, and the progress is beyond what you may chuse to believe. is it possible that you or i can believe, or that reason can make any other man believe, that the capacity of such a man as mr. guelph, or any of his profligate sons, is necessary to the government of a nation? i speak to you as one man ought to speak to another; and i know also that i speak what other people are beginning to think. that you cannot obtain a verdict (and if you do it will signify nothing) without _packing a jury_, and we _both_ know that such tricks are practised, is what i have very good reason to believe.... do not then, sir, be the instrument of drawing away twelve men into a situation that may be injurious to them afterwards. i do not speak this from policy, but from benevolence; but if you chuse to go on with the process, i make it my request that you would read this letter in court, after which the judge and the jury may do what they please. as i do not consider myself the object of the prosecution, neither can i be affected by the issue one way or the other, i shall, though a foreigner in your country, subscribe as much money as any other man towards supporting the right of the nation against the prosecution; and it is for this purpose only that i shall do it. as i have not time to copy letters, you will excuse the corrections." a month after this awful letter was written, paine no doubt knew its imprudence. it was sprung on the court by the attorney-general, and must alone have settled the verdict, had it not been foregone. erskine, paine's leading counsel, was attorney-general for the prince of wales--foremost of "mr. guelph's profligate sons,"--and he was compelled to treat as a forgery the letter all felt to be genuine. he endeavored to prevent the reading of it, but lord kenyon decided that "in prosecutions for high treason, where overt acts are laid, you may prove overt acts not laid to prove those that are laid. if it [the letter] goes to prove him the author of the book, i am bound to admit it." authorship of the book being admitted, this was only a pretext. the attorney-general winced a good deal at the allusion to the profligate sons, and asked: "is he [paine] to teach human creatures, whose moments of existence depend upon the permission of a being, merciful, long-suffering, and of great goodness, that those whose youthful errors, from which even royalty is not exempted, are to be treasured up in a vindictive memory, and are to receive sentence of irremissible sin at his hands?" it may be incidentally remarked here that the attorney-general could hardly have failed to retort with charges against the author, had not paine's reputation remained proof against the libellous "biography" by the government clerk, chalmers. the main part of the prosecution was thus uttered by paine himself. while reading the letter the prosecutor paused to say: "if i succeed in this prosecution he shall never return to this country otherwise than _in vinculis_, for i will outlaw him."* * howell's state trials . other reports are by joseph gurney and "by an eminent advocate." the brief evidence consisted mainly of the notes and statements of paine's publishers already mentioned in connection with the publication of the indicted work. the attorney-general cited effectively the reply to paine which he attributed to vice- president adams. publicola's pamphlet gave great comfort to paine's prosecutors. mr. long writes to mr. miles, agent in paris (december st), about this "book by the american adams, which is admirable, proving that the american government is not founded upon the absurd doctrine of the pretended rights of man, and that if it had been it could not have stood for a week." erskine's powerful defence of the constitutional rights of thought and speech in england is historical. he built around paine an enduring constitutional fortress, compelling burke and fox to lend aid from their earlier speeches. the fable with which he closed was long remembered. "constraint is the natural parent of resistance, and a pregnant proof that reason is not on the side of those who use it. you must all remember, gentlemen, lucian's pleasant story: jupiter and a countryman were walking together, conversing with great freedom and familiarity upon the subject of heaven and earth. the countryman listened with attention and acquiescence, while jupiter strove only to convince him; but happening to hint a doubt, jupiter turned hastily around and threatened him with his thunder. 'ah, ha!' says the countryman, 'now, jupiter, i know that you are wrong; you are always wrong when you appeal to your thunder.' "this is the case with me. i can reason with the people of england, but i cannot fight against the thunder of authority." mr. attorney-general arose immediately to reply to mr. erskine, when mr. campbell (the foreman of the jury) said: "my lord, i am authorized by the jury here to inform the attorney-general that a reply is not necessary for them, unless the attorney-general wishes to make it, or your lordship." mr. attorney-general sat down, and the jury gave in their verdict--guilty. paine was outlawed. the eye of england followed its outlaw before and after his trial. in the english state archives is a note of g. munro to lord grenville, september th, announcing "mr. payne's election for the departement de l'oise." earl gower announces, on information of mr. mason, that "tom payne is on his road to take his seat." on september d a despatch mentions paine's speech on the judiciary question. "december , . tom payne is in the country unwell, or pretending to be so. the most remarkable of the secret despatches, however, are two sent from paris on the last day of the year . one of these alludes to the effect of paine's trial and outlawry on the english radicals in paris: "tom payne's fate and the unanimity of the english has staggered the boldest of them, and they are now dwindling into nothing. another address was, however, proposed for the national convention; this motion, i understand, was made by tom payne and seconded by mr. mery; it was opposed by mr. frost, seconded by mr. mcdonald." the second allusion to paine on december st deserves to be pondered by historians: "tom payne has proposed banishing the royal family of france, and i have heard is writing his opinion on the subject; his consequence seems daily lessening in this country, and i should never be surprised if he some day receives the fate he merits." it thus seems that whatever good deed paine was about, he deserves death. earl gower, and the agents he left on his departure (september) in paris, must have known that paine's proposal was the only alternative of the king's execution, and that if his consequence was lessening it was solely because of labors to save the lives of the royal family. this humane man has the death-sentence of robespierre on him anticipated by the ambassador of a country which, while affecting grief for louis xvi., was helping on his fate.* danton said to count theodore de lameth: "i am willing to try and save the king, but i must have a million of money to buy up the necessary votes, and the money must be on hand in eight days. i warn you that although i may save his life i shall vote for his death; i am quite willing to save his head, but not to lose mine." { } the count and the spanish ambassador broached the matter to pitt, who refused the money.** he was not willing to spend a few thousands to save the life of america's friend, though he made his death a pretext for exhausting his treasury to deluge europe with blood. gouverneur morris, whose dislike of paine's republicanism was equally cynical,*** was intimate with earl gower, and no doubt gave him his information. * after september it was, as talleyrand says, "no longer a question that the king should reign, but that he himself, the queen, their children, his sister, should be saved. it might have been done. it was at least a duty to attempt it. at that time france was only at war with the emperor [austria], the empire [the german states], and sardinia, had all the other states concerted themselves to offer their mediation by proposing to recognise whatever form of government france might be pleased to adopt, with the sole condition that the prisoners in the temple should be allowed to leave the country and retire wherever they liked, though such a proposal, as may be supposed, would not have filled the demagogues with delight, they would have been powerless to resist it."--memoirs of the prince de talleyrand. new york, , i., p. . ** taine's "french revolution" (american ed.), iii., p. . see also the "correspondence of w. a. miles on the french revolution," london, , i., p. . the abbé noel, a month before the king's death, pointed out to this british agent how he might be saved. *** in relating to john randolph of roanoke paine's exposure of silas deane, morris regards it as the prevention of a fraud, but nevertheless thinks paine deserved punishment for his "impudence"! morris was clear-headed enough to perceive that the massacres in france were mainly due to the menaces of foreign monarchs, and was in hearty sympathy with paine's plan for saving the life of louis xvi. on december th he writes to washington that a majority of the convention "...have it in contemplation not only to refer the judgment to the electors of france, that is, to her people, but also to send him and his family to america, which paine is to move for. he mentioned this to me in confidence, but i have since heard it from another quarter." on january , , morris writes to washington concerning genet, the new minister to the united states, who had been introduced to him by paine, and dined with him. at the close he says: "the king's fate is to be decided next monday the th. that unhappy man, conversing with one of his council on his own fate, calmly summed up the motives of every kind, and concluded that a majority of the council [convention] would vote for referring his case to the people, and that in consequence he should be massacred. i think he must die or reign." paine also feared that a reference to the populace meant death. he had counted a majority in the convention who were opposed to the execution. submission of the question to the masses would thus, if his majority stood firm, be risking the life of louis again. unfortunately this question had to be determined before the vote on life or death. at the opening of the year he felt cheerful about the situation. on january d he wrote to john king, a retreating comrade in england, as follows: "dear king,--i don't know anything, these many years, that surprised and hurt me more than the sentiments you published in the courtly herald, the th december, signed john king, egham lodge. you have gone back from all you ever said. when i first knew you in ailiffe-street, an obscure part of the city, a child, without fortune or friends, i noticed you; because i thought i saw in you, young as you was, a bluntness of temper, a boldness of opinion, and an originality of thought, that portended some future good. i was pleased to discuss with you, under our friend oliver's lime-tree, those political notions which i have since given the world in my 'rights of man.' "you used to complain of abuses as well as me. what, then, means this sudden attachment to kings? this fondness of the english government, and hatred of the french? if you mean to curry favour, by aiding your government, you are mistaken; they never recompence those who serve it; they buy off those who can annoy it, and let the good that is rendered it be its own reward. believe me, king, more is to be obtained by cherishing the rising spirit of the people, than by subduing it. follow my fortunes, and i will be answerable that you shall make your own.--thomas paine."* * "mr. king's speech, at egham, with thomas paine's letter," etc egham, . in his reply, january th, king says: "such men as frost, barlow, and others, your associates, show the forlornness of your cause. our respectable citizens do not go to you," etc. writing february th, king expresses satisfaction at paine's vote on the king's fate: "the imputation of cruelty will not now be added to the other censures on your character; but the catastrophe of this unhappy monarch has shewn you the danger of putting a nation in ferment." this last sentence may even now raise a smile. king must subsequently have reflected with satisfaction that he did not "follow the fortunes" of paine, which led him into prison at the end of the year. a third letter from him to paine appeared in the _morning herald_, april , , in which he says: "'if the french kill their king, it will be a signal for my departure, for i will not abide among such sanguinary men.' these, mr. paine, were your words at our last meeting; yet after this you are not only with them, but the chief modeller of their new constitution." mr. king might have reflected that the author of the "rights of man," which he had admired, was personally safer in regicide france than in liberticide england, which had outlawed him. end of vol. i. the life of thomas paine with a history of his literary, political and religious career in america france, and england by moncure daniel conway to which is added a sketch of paine by william Çobbett (hitherto unpublished) volume ii. the life of thomas paine. { } chapter i. "kill the king, but not the man" dumas' hero, dr. gilbert (in "ange pitou "), an idealization of paine, interprets his hopes and horrors on the opening of the fateful year . dr. gilbert's pamphlets had helped to found liberty in the new world, but sees that it may prove the germ of total ruin to the old world. "a new world," repeated gilbert; "that is to say, a vast open space, a clear table to work upon,--no laws, but no abuses; no ideas, but no prejudices. in france, thirty thousand square leagues of territory for thirty millions of people; that is to say, should the space be equally divided, scarcely room for a cradle or a grave for each. out yonder, in america, two hundred thousand square leagues for three millions of people; frontiers which are ideal, for they border on the desert, which is to say, immensity. in those two hundred thousand leagues, navigable rivers, having a course of a thousand leagues; virgin forests, of which god alone knows the limits,--that is to say, all the elements of life, of civilization, and of a brilliant future. oh, how easy it is, billot, when a man is called lafayette, and is accustomed to wield a sword; when a man is called washington, and is accustomed to reflect deeply,--how easy is it to combat against walls of wood, of earth, of stone, of human flesh! but when, instead of founding, it is necessary to destroy; when we see in the old order things that we are obliged to attack,--walls of bygone, crumbling ideas; and that behind the ruins even of these walls crowds of people and of interests still take refuge; when, after having found the idea, we find that in order to make the people adopt it, it will be necessary perhaps to decimate that people, from the old who remember to the child who has still to learn; from the recollection which is the monument to the instinct that is its germ--then, oh then, billot, it is a task that will make all shudder who can see beneath the horizon.... i shall, however, persevere, for although i see obstacles, i can perceive the end; and that end is splendid, billot. it is not the liberty of france alone that i dream of; it is the liberty of the whole world. it is not the physical equality; it is equality before the law,--equality of rights. it is not only the fraternity of our own citizens, but of all nations.... forward, then, and over the heaps of our dead bodies may one day march the generations of which this boy here is in the advanced guard!" though dr. gilbert has been in the bastille, though he barely escapes the bullet of a revolutionist, he tries to unite the throne and the people. so, as we have seen, did paine struggle until the king took flight, and, over his own signature, branded all his pledges as extorted lies. henceforth for the king personally he has no respect; yet the whole purpose of his life is now to save that of the prisoner. besides his humane horror of capital punishment, especially in a case which involves the heads of thousands, paine foresees nemesis fashioning her wheels in every part of europe, and her rudder across the ocean,--where america beholds in louis xvi. her deliverer. paine's outlawry, announced by kersaint in convention, january st, was more eloquent for wrath than he for clemency. under such menaces the majority for sparing louis shrank with the new year; french pride arose, and with danton was eager to defy despots by tossing to them the head of a king. poor paine found his comrades retreating. what would a knowledge of the french tongue have been worth to this leading republican of the world, just then the one man sleeplessly seeking to save a kings life! he could not plead with his enraged republicans, who at length overpowered even brissot, so far as to draw him into the fatal plan of voting for the king's death, coupled with submission to the verdict of the people. paine saw that there was at the moment no people, but only an infuriated clan. he was now defending a forlorn hope, but he struggled with a heroism that would have commanded the homage of europe had not its courts been also clans. he hit on a scheme which he hoped might, in that last extremity, save the real revolution from a suicidal inhumanity. it was the one statesmanlike proposal of the time: that the king should be held as a hostage for the peaceful behavior of other kings, and, when their war on france had ceased, banished to the united states. on january th, before the vote on the king's punishment was put, paine gave his manuscript address to the president: debate closed before it could be read, and it was printed, he argued that the assembly, in bringing back louis when he had abdicated and fled, was the more guilty; and against his transgressions it should be remembered that by his aid the shackles of america were broken. "let then those united states be the guard and the asylum of louis capet. there, in the future, remote from the miseries and crimes of royalty, he may learn from, the constant presence of public prosperity, that the true system of government consists not in monarchs, but in fair, equal, and honorable representation. in recalling this circumstance, and submitting this proposal, i consider myself a citizen of both countries. i submit it as an american who feels the debt of gratitude he owes to every frenchman. i submit it as a man, who, albeit an adversary of kings, forgets not that they are subject to human frailties. i support my proposal as a citizen of the french republic, because it appears to me the best and most politic measure that can be adopted. as far as my experience in public life extends, i have ever observed that the great mass of people are always just, both in their intentions and their object; but the true method of attaining such purpose does not always appear at once. the english nation had groaned under the stuart despotism. hence charles i. was executed; but charles ii. was restored to all the powers his father had lost. forty years later the same family tried to re-establish their oppression; the nation banished the whole race from its territories. the remedy was effectual; the stuart family sank into obscurity, merged itself in the masses, and is now extinct." he reminds the convention that the king had two brothers out of the country who might naturally desire his death: the execution of the king might make them presently plausible pretenders to the throne, around whom their foreign enemies would rally: while the man recognized by foreign powers as the rightful monarch of france was living there could be no such pretender. "it has already been proposed to abolish the penalty of death, and it is with infinite satisfaction that i recollect the humane and excellent oration pronounced by robespierre on the subject, in the constituent assembly. monarchical governments have trained the human race to sanguinary punishments, but the people should not follow the examples of their oppressors in such vengeance. as france has been the first of european nations to abolish royalty, let her also be the first to abolish the punishment of death, and to find out a milder and more effectual substitute." this was admirable art. under shelter of robespierre's appeal against the death penalty, the "mountain"* could not at the moment break the force of paine's plea by reminding the convention of his quaker sentiments. it will be borne in mind that up to this time robespierre was not impressed, nor marat possessed, by the homicidal demon. marat had felt for paine a sort of contemptuous kindness, and one day privately said to him: "it is you, then, who believe in a republic; you have too much sense to believe in such a dream." robespierre, according to lamartine, "affected for the cosmopolitan radicalism of paine the respect of a neophite for ideas not understood." both leaders now suspected that paine had gone over to the "brissotins," as the girondists were beginning to be called. however, the brissotins, though a majority, had quailed before the ferocity with which the jacobins had determined on the king's death. m. taine declares that the victory of the minority in this case was the familiar one of reckless violence over the more civilized--the wild beast over the tame. louis blanc denies that the convention voted, as one of them said, under poignards; but the signs of fear are unmistakeable. * so called from the high benches on which these members sat. the seats of the girondists on the floor were called the "plain," and after their over-throw the "marsh." vergniaud had declared it an insult for any one to suppose he would vote for the king's death, but he voted for it. villette was threatened with death if he did not vote for that of the king. sievès, who had attacked paine for republicanism, voted death. "what," he afterward said--"what were the tribute of my glass of wine in that torrent of brandy?" but paine did not withhold his cup of cold water. when his name was called he cried out: "i vote for the detention of louis till the end of the war, and after that his perpetual banishment." he spoke his well prepared vote in french, and may have given courage to others. for even under poignards--the most formidable being liability to a charge of royalism--the vote had barely gone in favor of death.* the fire-breathing mountain felt now that its supremacy was settled. it had learned its deadly art of conquering a thinking majority by recklessness. but suddenly another question was sprung upon the convention: shall the execution be immediate, or shall there be delay? the mountain groans and hisses as the question is raised, but the dictation had not extended to this point, and the question must be discussed. here is one more small chance for paine's poor royal client. can the execution only be postponed it will probably never be executed. * upwards of three hundred voted with paine, who says that the majority by which death was carried, unconditionally, was twenty-five. as a witness who had watched the case, his testimony may correct the estimate of carlyle: "death by a small majority of fifty-three. nay, if we deduct from the one side, and add to the other, a certain twenty- six who said death but coupled some faintest ineffectual surmise of mercy with it, the majority will be but one." see also paine's "mémoire, etc.. à monroe." unfortunately marat, whose thirst for the king's blood is almost cannibalistic, can read on paine's face his elation. he realizes that this american, with washington behind him, has laid before the convention a clear and consistent scheme for utilizing the royal prisoner. the king's neck under a suspended knife, it will rest with the foreign enemies of france whether it shall fall or not; while the magnanimity of france and its respect for american gratitude will prevail. paine, then, must be dealt with somehow in this new debate about delay. he might, indeed, have been dealt with summarily had not the _moniteur_ done him an opportune service; on january th and th it printed paine's unspoken argument for mercy, along with erskine's speech at his trial in london, and the verdict. so on the th, when paine entered the convention, it was with the prestige not only of one outlawed by great britain for advocating the rights of man, but of a representative of the best englishmen and their principles. it would be vain to assail the author's loyalty to the republic, that he would speak that day was certain, for on the morrow ( th) the final vote was to be taken. the mountain could not use on paine their weapon against girondins; they could not accuse the author of the "rights of man" of being royalist when he had mounted the tribune, and the clerk (bancal, franklin's friend) was beginning to read his speech, marat cried, "i submit that thomas paine is incompetent to vote on this question; being a quaker his religious principles are opposed to the death-penalty." there was great confusion for a time. the anger of the jacobins was extreme, says guizot, and "they refused to listen to the speech of paine, the american, till respect for his courage gained him a hearing."* demands for freedom of speech gradually subdued the interruptions, and the secretary proceeded: "very sincerely do i regret the convention's vote of yesterday for death. i have the advantage of some experience; it is near twenty years that i have been engaged in the cause of liberty, having contributed something to it in the revolution of the united states of america. my language has always been that of liberty and humanity, and i know by experience that nothing so exalts a nation as the union of these two principles, under all circumstances. i know that the public mind of france, and particularly that of paris, has been heated and irritated by the dangers to which they have been exposed; but could we carry our thoughts into the future, when the dangers are ended, and the irritations forgotten, what to-day seems an act of justice may then appear an act of vengeance. [_murmurs_.] my anxiety for the cause of france has become for the moment concern for its honor. if, on my return to america, i should employ myself on a history of the french revolution, i had rather record a thousand errors dictated by humanity, than one inspired by a justice too severe. i voted against an appeal to the people, because it appeared to me that the convention was needlessly wearied on that point; but i so voted in the hope that this assembly would pronounce against death, and for the same punishment that the nation would have voted, at least in my opinion, that is, for reclusion during the war and banishment thereafter. that is the punishment most efficacious, because it includes the whole family at once, and none other can so operate. i am still against the appeal to the primary assemblies, because there is a better method. this convention has been elected to form a constitution, which will be submitted to the primary assemblies. after its acceptance a necessary consequence will be an election, and another assembly. * "history of france," vi., p. . we cannot suppose that the present convention will last more than five or six months. the choice of new deputies will express the national opinion on the propriety or impropriety of your sentence, with as much efficacy as if those primary assemblies had been consulted on it. ''as the duration of our functions here cannot be long, it is a part of our duty to consider the interests of those who shall replace us. if by any act of ours the number of the nation's enemies shall be needlessly increased, and that of its friends diminished,--at a time when the finances may be more strained than to-day,--we should not be justifiable for having thus unnecessarily heaped obstacles in the path of our successors. let us therefore not be precipitate in our decisions. "france has but one ally--the united states of america. that is the only nation that can furnish france with naval provisions, for the kingdoms of northern europe are, or soon will be, at war with her. it happens, unfortunately, that the person now under discussion is regarded in america as a deliverer of their country. i can assure you that his execution will there spread universal sorrow, and it is in your power not thus to wound the feelings of your ally. could i speak the french language i would descend to your bar, and in their name become your petitioner to respite the execution of the sentence on louis." here were loud murmurs from the "mountain," answered with demands for liberty of opinion. thuriot sprang to his feet crying, "this is not the language of thomas paine." marat mounted the tribune and asked paine some questions, apparently in english, then descending he said to the assembly in french: "i denounce the interpreter, and i maintain that such is not the opinion of thomas paine. it is a wicked and faithless translation."* * "venant d'un démocrate tel que thomas paine, d'un homme qui avait vécu parmi les américains, d'un penseur, cette déclaration parut si dangereuse à marat que, pour en détruire l'effet, il n'hésita pas à s'écrier: 'je dénonce le truchement. je soutiens que ce n'est point là l'opinion do thomas paine. c'est une traduction infidèle.'"--louis blanc. see also "histoire parliamentaire," xxiii., p. . these words, audacious as mendacious, caused a tremendous uproar. garran came to the rescue of the frightened clerk, declaring that he had read the original, and the translation was correct. paine stood silent and calm during the storm. the clerk proceeded: "your executive committee will nominate an ambassador to philadelphia; my sincere wish is that he may announce to america that the national convention of france, out of pure friendship to america, has consented to respite louis. that people, your only ally, have asked you by my vote to delay the execution. "ah, citizens, give not the tyrant of england the triumph of seeing the man perish on a scaffold who helped my dear brothers of america to break his chains!" at the conclusion of this speech marat "launched himself into the middle of the hall" and cried out that paine had "voted against the punishment of death because he was a quaker." paine replied, "i voted against it both morally and politically." had the vote been taken that day perhaps louis might have escaped. brissot, shielded from charges of royalism by paine's republican fame, now strongly supported his cause. "a cruel precipitation," he cried, "may alienate our friends in england, ireland, america. take care! the opinion of european peoples is worth to you armies!" but all this only brought out the mountain's particular kind of courage; they were ready to defy the world--washington included--in order to prove that a king's neck was no more than any other man's. marat's clan--the "nihilists" of the time, whose strength was that they stopped at nothing--had twenty-four hours to work in; they surrounded the convention next day with a mob howling for "justice!" fifty-five members were absent; of the present a majority of seventy decided that louis xvi. should die within twenty-four hours. a hundred years have passed since that tragedy of poor louis; graves have given up their dead; secrets of the hearts that then played their part are known. the world can now judge between england's outlaw and england's king of that day. for it is established, as we have seen, both by english and french archives, that while thomas paine was toiling night and day to save the life of louis that life lay in the hand of the british ministry. some writers question the historic truth of the offer made by danton, but none can question the refusal of intercession, urged by fox and others at a time when (as count d'estaing told morris) the convention was ready to give pitt the whole french west indies to keep him quiet. it was no doubt with this knowledge that paine declared from the tribune that george iii. would triumph in the execution of the king who helped america to break england's chains. brissot also knew it when with weighed words he reported for his committee (january th): "the grievance of the british cabinet against france is not that louis is in judgment, but that thomas paine wrote 'the rights of man.'" "the militia were armed," says louis blanc, "in the south-east of england troops received order to march to london, the meeting of parliament was advanced forty days, the tower was reinforced by a new garrison, in fine there was unrolled a formidable preparation of war against--thomas paine's book on the rights of man!"* incredible as this may appear the debates in the house of commons, on which it is fairly founded, would be more incredible were they not duly reported in the "parliamentary history."** in the debates on the alien bill, permitting the king to order any foreigner out of the country at will, on making representations to the french convention in behalf of the life of louis, on augmenting the military forces with direct reference to france, the recent trial of paine was rehearsed, and it was plainly shown that the object of the government was to suppress freedom of the press by terror. erskine was denounced for defending paine and for afterwards attending a meeting of the "society of friends of the liberty of the press," to whose resolutions on paine's case his name was attached. erskine found gallant defenders in the house, among them fox, who demanded of pitt: "can you not prosecute paine without an army?" burke at this time enacted a dramatic scene. having stated that three thousand daggers had been ordered at birmingham by an englishman, he drew from his pocket a dagger, cast it on the floor of the house of commons, and cried: "that is what we are to get from an alliance with france!" paine--paine--paine--was the burden laid on pitt, who had said to lady hester stanhope: "tom paine is quite right." * "histoire de la révolution," vol. viii., p. . ** vol. xxv. that thomas paine and his "rights of man" were the actual cause of the english insults to which their declaration of war replied was so well understood in the french convention that its first answer to the menaces was to appoint paine and condorcet to write an address to the english people.* it is noticeable that on the question whether the judgment on the king's fate should be submitted to the people, paine voted "no." his belief in the right of all to representation implied distrust of the immediate voice of the masses. the king had said that if his case were referred to the people "he should be massacred." gouverneur morris had heard this, and no doubt communicated it to paine, who was in consultation with him on his plan of sending louis to america.** indeed, it is probable that popular suffrage would have ratified the decree. nevertheless, it was a fair "appeal to the people" which paine made, after the fatal verdict, in expressing to the convention his belief that the people would not have done so. for after the decree the helplessness of the prisoner appealed to popular compassion, and on the fatal day the tide had turned. four days after the execution the american minister writes to jefferson: "the greatest care was taken to prevent a concourse of people. this proves a conviction that the majority was not favorable to that severe measure. in fact the great mass of the people mourned the fate of their unhappy prince." * "le département des affaires Étrangères pendant la revolution, - ." par frédéric masson, bibliothécaire da ministère des affaires Étrangères. paris, , p. . ** morris' "diary," ii., pp. , . . to paine the death of an "unhappy prince" was no more a subject for mourning than that of the humblest criminal--for, with whatever extenuating circumstances, a criminal he was to the republic he had sworn to administer. but the impolicy of the execution, the resentment uselessly incurred, the loss of prestige in america, were felt by paine as a heavy blow to his cause--always the international republic. he was, however, behind the scenes enough to know that the blame rested mainly on america's old enemy and his league of foreign courts against liberated france. the man who, when franklin said "where liberty is, there is my country," answered "where liberty is not, there is mine," would not despair of the infant republic because of its blunders. attributing these outbursts to maddening conspiracies around and within the new-born nation, he did not believe there could be peace in europe so long as it was ruled by george iii. he therefore set himself to the struggle, as he had done in . moreover, paine has faith in providence.* * "the same spirit of fortitude that insured success to america will insure it to france, for it is impossible to conquer a nation determined to be free.... man is ever a stranger to the ways by which providence regulates the order of things. the interference of foreign despots may serve to introduce into their own enslaved countries the principles they come to oppose. liberty and equality are blessings too great to be the inheritance of france alone. it is honour to her to be their first champion; and she may now say to her enemies, with a mighty voice, 'o, ye austrians, ye prussians! ye who now turn your bayonets against us, it is for you, it is for all europe, it is for all mankind, and not for france alone, that she raises the standard of liberty and equality!'"--paine's address to the convention (september , ) after taking his seat. at this time, it should be remembered, opposition to capital punishment was confined to very few outside of the despised sect of quakers. in the debate three, besides paine, gave emphatic expression to that sentiment, manuel, condorcet,--robespierre! the former, in giving his vote against death, said: "to nature belongs the right of death. despotism has taken it from her; liberty will return it" as for robespierre, his argument was a very powerful reply to paine, who had reminded him of the bill he had introduced into the old national assembly for the abolition of capital punishment. he did, indeed, abhor it, he said; it was not his fault if his views had been disregarded. but why should men who then opposed him suddenly revive the claims of humanity when the penalty happened to fall upon a king? was the penalty good enough for the people, but not for a king? if there were any exception in favor of such a punishment, it should be for a royal criminal. this opinion of robespierre is held by some humane men. the present writer heard from professor francis w. newman--second to none in philanthropy and compassionateness--a suggestion that the death penalty should be reserved for those placed at the head of affairs who betray their trust, or set their own above the public interests to the injury of a commonwealth. the real reasons for the execution of the king closely resemble those of washington for the execution of major andré, notwithstanding the sorrow of the country, with which the commander sympathized. the equal nationality of the united states, repudiated by great britain, was in question. to hang spies was, however illogically, a conventional usage among nations. major andré must die, therefore, and must be refused the soldier's death for which he petitioned. for a like reason europe must be shown that the french convention is peer of their scornful parliaments; and its fundamental principle, the equality of men, could not admit a king's escape from the penalty which would be unhesitatingly inflicted on a "citizen." the king had assumed the title of citizen, had worn the republican cockade; the apparent concession of royal inviolability, in the moment of his betrayal of the compromise made with him, could be justified only on the grounds stated by paine,--impolicy of slaying their hostage, creating pretenders, alienating america; and the honor of exhibiting to the world, by a salient example, the republic's magnanimity in contrast with the cruelty of kings. chapter ii. an outlawed english ambassador soon after paine had taken his seat in the convention, lord fortescue wrote to miles, an english agent in paris, a letter fairly expressive of the feelings, fears, and hopes of his class. "tom paine is just where he ought to be--a member of the convention of cannibals. one would have thought it impossible that any society upon the face of the globe should have been fit for the reception of such a being until the late deeds of the national convention have shown them to be most fully qualified. his vocation will not be complete, nor theirs either, till his head finds its way to the top of a pike, which will probably not be long first."* * this letter, dated september , , appears in the miles correspondence (london, ). there are indications that miles was favorably disposed towards paine, and on that account, perhaps, was subjected to influence by his superiors. as an example of the way in which just minds were poisoned towards paine, a note of miles may be mentioned. he says he was "told by col. bosville, a declared friend of paine, that his manners and conversation were coarse, and he loved the brandy bottle." but just as this miles correspondence was appearing in london, dr. grèce found the manuscript diary of rickman, who had discovered (as two entries show) that this "declared friend of paine," col. bosville, and professed friend of himself, was going about uttering injurious falsehoods concerning him (rickman), seeking to alienate his friends at the moment when he most needed them. rickman was a bookseller engaged in circulating paine's works. there is little doubt that this wealthy col. bosville was at the time unfriendly to the radicals. he was staying in paris on paine's political credit, while depreciating him. but if paine was so fit for such a convention, why should they behead him? the letter betrays a real perception that paine possesses humane principles, and an english courage, which would bring him into danger. this undertone of fortescue's invective represented the profound confidence of paine's adherents in england, when tidings came of the king's trial and execution, whatever glimpses they gained of their outlawed leader showed him steadfast as a star caught in one wave and another of that turbid tide. many, alas, needed apologies, but paine required none. that one englishman, standing on the tribune for justice and humanity, amid three hundred angry frenchmen in uproar, was as sublime a sight as europe witnessed in those days. to the english radical the outlawry of paine was as the tax on light, which was presently walling up london windows, or extorting from them the means of war against ideas.* the trial of paine had elucidated nothing, except that, like jupiter, john bull had the thunderbolts, and paine the arguments. indeed, it is difficult to discover any other englishman who at the moment pre-eminently stood for principles now proudly called english. * in a copy of the first edition of "the rights of man," which i bought in london, i found, as a sort of book-mark, a bill for l. s. d., two quarters' window-tax, due from mr. williamson, upper fitzroy place. windows closed with bricks are still seen in some of the gloomiest parts of london. i have in manuscript a bitter anathema of the time: "god made the light, and saw that it was good: pitt laid a tax on it,--g---- d------ his blood!" but paine too presently held thunderbolts. although his efforts to save louis had offended the "mountain," and momentarily brought him into the danger lord fortescue predicted, that party was not yet in the ascendant. the girondists were still in power, and though some of their leaders had bent before the storm, that they might not be broken, they had been impressed both by the courage and the tactics of paine. "the girondists consulted paine," says lamartine, "and placed him on the committee of surveillance." at this moment many englishmen were in france, and at a word from paine some of their heads might have mounted on the pike which lord fortescue had imaginatively prepared for the head that wrote "the rights of man." there remained, for instance, mr. munro, already mentioned. this gentleman, in a note preserved in the english archives, had written to lord grenville (september , ) concerning paine: "what must a nation come to that has so little discernment in the election of their representatives, as to elect such a fellow?" but having lingered in paris after england's formal declaration of war (february th), munro was cast into prison. he owed his release to that "fellow" paine, and must be duly credited with having acknowledged it, and changed his tone for the rest of his life,--which he probably owed to the english committeeman. had paine met with the fate which lords gower and fortescue hoped, it would have gone hard with another eminent countryman of theirs,--captain grimstone, r.a. this personage, during a dinner party at the palais Égalité, got into a controversy with paine, and, forgetting that the english jove could not in paris safely answer argument with thunder, called paine a traitor to his country and struck him a violent blow. death was the penalty of striking a deputy, and paine's friends were not unwilling to see the penalty inflicted on this stout young captain who had struck a man of fifty-six. paine had much trouble in obtaining from barrère, of the committee of public safety, a passport out of the country for captain grimstone, whose travelling expenses were supplied by the man he had struck. in a later instance, related by walter savage landor, paine's generosity amounted to quixotism. the story is finely told by landor, who says in a note: "this anecdote was communicated to me at florence by mr. evans, a painter of merit, who studied under lawrence, and who knew personally (zachariah) wilkes and watt. in religion and politics he differed widely from paine." "sir," said he, "let me tell you what he did for me. my name is zachariah wilkes. i was arrested in paris and condemned to die. i had no friend here; and it was a time when no friend would have served me: robespierre ruled. 'i am innocent!' i cried in desperation. 'i am innocent, so help me god! i am condemned for the offence of another.' i wrote a statement of my case with a pencil; thinking at first of addressing it to my judge, then of directing it to the president of the convention. the jailer, who had been kind to me, gave me a gazette, and told me not to mind seeing my name, so many were there before it. "'o!' said i 'though you would not lend me your ink, do transmit this paper to the president.' "'no, my friend!' answered he gaily. 'my head is as good as yours, and looks as well between the shoulders, to my liking. why not send it (if you send it anywhere) to the deputy paine here?' pointing to a column in the paper. "'o god! he must hate and detest the name of englishman: pelted, insulted, persecuted, plundered...' "'i could give it to him,' said the jailer. "'do then!' said i wildly. 'one man more shall know my innocence.' he came within the half hour. i told him my name, that my employers were watt and boulton of birmingham, that i had papers of the greatest consequence, that if i failed to transmit them, not only my life was in question, but my reputation. he replied: 'i know your employers by report only; there are no two men less favourable to the principles i profess, but no two upon earth are honester. you have only one great man among you: it is watt; for priestley is gone to america. the church-and-king men would have japanned him. he left to these philosophers of the rival school his house to try experiments on; and you may know, better than i do, how much they found in it of carbon and calx, of silex and argilla.' "he examined me closer than my judge had done; he required my proofs. after a long time i satisfied him. he then said, 'the leaders of the convention would rather have my life than yours. if by any means i can obtain your release on my own security, will you promise me to return within twenty days?' i answered, 'sir, the security i can at present give you, is trifling... i should say a mere nothing.' "'then you do not give me your word?' said he. "'i give it and will redeem it.' "he went away, and told me i should see him again when he could inform me whether he had succeeded. he returned in the earlier part of the evening, looked fixedly upon me, and said, 'zachariah wilkes! if you do not return in twenty-four days (four are added) you will be the most unhappy of men; for had you not been an honest one, you could not be the agent of watt and boulton. i do not think i have hazarded much in offering to take your place on your failure: such is the condition.' i was speechless; he was unmoved. silence was first broken by the jailer. 'he seems to get fond of the spot now he must leave it.' i had thrown my arms upon the table towards my liberator, who sat opposite, and i rested my head and breast upon it too, for my temples ached and tears had not yet relieved them. he said, 'zachanah! follow me to the carriage.' the soldiers paid the respect due to his scarf, presenting arms, and drawing up in file as we went along. the jailer called for a glass of wine, gave it me, poured out another, and drank to our next meeting."* another instance may be related in paine's own words, written (march , ) to a gentleman in new york. "sir,--i will inform you of what i know respecting general miranda, with whom i first became acquainted at new york, about the year . he is a man of talents and enterprise, and the whole of his life has been a life of adventures. "i went to europe from new york in april, . mr. jefferson was then minister from america to france, and mr. littlepage, a virginian (whom mr. jay knows), was agent for the king of poland, at paris. mr. littlepage was a young man of extraordinary talents, and i first met with him at mr. jefferson's house at dinner. by his intimacy with the king of poland, to whom also he was chamberlain, he became well acquainted with the plans and projects of the northern powers of europe. he told me of miranda's getting himself introduced to the empress catharine of russia, and obtaining a sum of money from her, four thousand pounds sterling; but it did not appear to me what the object was for which the money was given; it appeared a kind of retaining fee. "after i had published the first part of the 'rights of man' in england, in the year , i met miranda at the house of turnbull and forbes, merchants, devonshire square, london. he had been a little before this in the employ of mr. pitt, with respect to the affair of nootka sound, but i did not at that time know it; and i will, in the course of this letter, inform you how this connection between pitt and miranda ended; for i know it of my own knowledge. * zachanah wilkes did not fail to return, or paine to greet him with safety, and the words, "there is yet english blood in england." but here landor passes off into an imaginative picture of villages rejoicing at the fall of robespierre. paine himself had then been in prison seven months; so we can only conjecture the means by which zachariah was liberated.--lander's works, london, , i., p. . "i published the second part of the 'rights of man' in london, in february, , and i continued in london till i was elected a member of the french convention, in september of that year; and went from london to paris to take my seat in the convention, which was to meet the th of that month. i arrived in paris on the th. after the convention met, miranda came to paris, and was appointed general of the french army, under general dumouriez. but as the affairs of that army went wrong in the beginning of the year , miranda was suspected, and was brought under arrest to paris to take his trial. he summoned me to appear to his character, and also a mr. thomas christie, connected with the house of turnbull and forbes. i gave my testimony as i believed, which was, that his leading object was and had been the emancipation of his country, mexico, from the bondage of spain; for i did not at that time know of his engagements with pitt mr. christie's evidence went to show that miranda did not come to france as a necessitous adventurer; but believed he came from public-spirited motives, and that he had a large sum of money in the hands of turnbull and forbes. the house of turnbull and forbes was then in a contract to supply paris with flour. miranda was acquitted. "a few days after his acquittal he came to see me, and in a few days afterwards i returned his visit. he seemed desirous of satisfying me that he was independent, and that he had money in the hands of turnbull and forbes. he did not tell me of his affair with old catharine of russia, nor did i tell him that i knew of it. but he entered into conversation with respect to nootka sound, and put into my hands several letters of mr. pitt's to him on that subject; amongst which was one which i believe he gave me by mistake, for when i had opened it, and was beginning to read it, he put forth his hand and said, 'o, that is not the letter i intended'; but as the letter was short i soon got through with it, and then returned it to him without making any remarks upon it. the dispute with spain was then compromised; and pitt compromised with miranda for his services by giving him twelve hundred pounds sterling, for this was the contents of the letter. "now if it be true that miranda brought with him a credit upon certain persons in new york for sixty thousand pounds sterling, it is not difficult to suppose from what quarter the money came; for the opening of any proposals between pitt and miranda was already made by the affair of nootka sound. miranda was in paris when mr. monroe arrived there as minister; and as miranda wanted to get acquainted with him, i cautioned mr. monroe against him, and told him of the affair of nootka sound, and the twelve hundred pounds. "you are at liberty to make what use you please of this letter, and with my name to it." here we find a paid agent of pitt calling on outlawed paine for aid, by his help liberated from prison; and, when his true character is accidentally discovered, and he is at the outlaw's mercy, spared,--no doubt because this true english ambassador, who could not enter england, saw that at the moment passionate vengeance had taken the place of justice in paris. lord gower had departed, and paine must try and shield even his english enemies and their agents, where, as in miranda's case, the agency did not appear to affect france. this was while his friends in england were hunted down with ferocity. in the earlier stages of the french revolution there was much sympathy with it among literary men and in the universities. coleridge, southey, wordsworth, were leaders in the revolutionary cult at oxford and cambridge. by , and especially after the institution of paine's prosecution, the repression became determined. the memoir of thomas poole, already referred to, gives the experiences of a somerset gentleman, a friend of coleridge. after the publication of paine's "rights of man" ( ) he became a "political ishmaelite." "he made his appearance amongst the wigs and powdered locks of his kinsfolk and acquaintance, male and female, without any of the customary powder in his hair, which innocent novelty was a scandal to all beholders, seeing that it was the outward and visible sign of a love of innovation, a well-known badge of sympathy with democratic ideas." among poole's friends, at stowey, was an attorney named symes, who lent him paine's "rights of man." after paine's outlawry symes met a cabinet-maker with a copy of the book, snatched it out of his hand, tore it up, and, having learned that it was lent him by poole, propagated about the country that he (poole) was distributing seditious literature about the country. being an influential man, poole prevented the burning of paine in effigy at stowey. as time goes on this country-gentleman and scholar finds the government opening his letters, and warning his friends that he is in danger. "it was," he writes to a friend, "the boast an englishman was wont to make that he could think, speak, and write whatever he thought proper, provided he violated no law, nor injured any individual. but now an absolute controul exists, not indeed over the imperceptible operations of the mind, for those no power of man can controul; but, what is the same thing, over the effects of those operations, and if among these effects, that of speaking is to be checked, the soul is as much enslaved as the body in a cell of the bastille. the man who once feels, nay fancies, this, is a slave. it shows as if the suspicious secret government of an italian republic had replaced the open, candid government of the english laws." as thomas poole well represents the serious and cultured thought of young england in that time, it is interesting to read his judgment on the king's execution and the imminent war. "many thousands of human beings will be sacrificed in the ensuing contest, and for what? to support three or four individuals, called arbitrary kings, in the situation which they have usurped. i consider every briton who loses his life in the war us much murdered as the king of france, and every one who approves the war, as signing the death-warrant of each soldier or sailor that falls.... the excesses in france are great; but who are the authors of them? the emperor of germany, the king of prussia, and mr. burke. had it not been for their impertinent interference, i firmly believe the king of france would be at this moment a happy monarch, and that people would be enjoying every advantage of political liberty.... the slave-trade, you will see, will not be abolished, because to be humane and honest now is to be a traitor to the constitution, a lover of sedition and licentiousness! but this universal depression of the human mind cannot last long." it was in this spirit that the defence of a free press was undertaken in england. that thirty years' war was fought and won on the works of paine. there were some "lost leaders": the kings execution, the reign of terror, caused reaction in many a fine spirit; but the rank and file followed their thomas paine with a faith that crowned heads might envy. the london men knew paine thoroughly. the treasures of the world would not draw him, nor any terrors drive him, to the side of cruelty and inhumanity. their eye was upon him. had paine, after the king's execution, despaired of the republic there might have ensued some demoralization among his followers in london. but they saw him by the side of the delivered prisoner of the bastille, brissot, an author well known in england, by the side of condorcet and others of franklin's honored circle, engaged in death-struggle with the fire-breathing dragon called "the mountain." that was the same unswerving man they had been following, and to all accusations against the revolution their answer was--paine is still there! a reign of terror in england followed the outlawry of paine. twenty-four men, at one time or another, were imprisoned, fined, or transported for uttering words concerning abuses such as now every englishman would use concerning the same. some who sold paine's works were imprisoned before paine's trial, while the seditious character of the books was not yet legally settled. many were punished after the trial, by both fine and imprisonment. newspapers were punished for printing extracts, and for having printed them before the trial.* for this kind of work old statutes passed for other purposes were impressed, new statutes framed, until fox declared the bill of rights repealed, the constitution cut up by the roots, and the obedience of the people to such "despotism" no longer "a question of moral obligation and duty, but of prudence."* * the first trial after paine's, that of thomas spence (february , ), for selling "the rights of man," failed through a flaw in the indictment, but the mistake did not occur again. at the same time william holland was awarded a year's imprisonment and £ fine for selling "letter to the addressers." h. d. symonds, for publishing "rights of man," £ fine and two years; f or "letter to the addressers," one year, £ fine, with sureties in £ , for three years, and imprisonment till the fine be paid and sureties given. april , , richard phillips, printer, leicester, eighteen months. may th, j. ridgway, london, selling "rights of man," £ and one year; "letter to the addressers," one year, £ fine; in each case sureties in £ , , with imprisonment until fines paid and sureties given. richard peart, "rights" and "letter," three months. william belcher, "rights" and "letter," three months. daniel holt, £ , four years. messrs. robinson, £ . eaton and thompson, the latter in birmingham, were acquitted. clio rickman escaped punishment by running over to paris. dr. currie ( ) writes: "the prosecutions that are commenced all over england against printers, publishers, etc., would astonish you; and most of these are for offences committed many months ago. the printer of the manchester herald has had seven different indictments preferred against him for paragraphs in his paper; and six different indictments for selling or disposing of six different copies of paine,--all previous to the trial of paine. the man was opulent, supposed worth ment by running over to paris. dr. currie ( ) writes: *' the prosecutions that are commenced all over england against printers, publishers, etc., would astonish you; and most of these are for offences committed many months ago. the printer of the manchester herald has had seven different indictments preferred against him for paragraphs in his paper; and six different indictments for selling or disposing of six different copies of paine,--all previous to the trial of paine. the man was opulent, supposed worth ment by running over to paris. dr. currie ( ) writes: "the prosecutions that are commenced all over england against printers, publishers, etc., would astonish you; and most of these are for offences committed many months ago. the printer of the manchester herald has had seven different indictments preferred against him for paragraphs in his paper; and six different indictments for selling or disposing of six different copies of paine,--all previous to the trial of paine. the man was opulent, supposed worth £ , ; but these different actions will ruin him, as they were intended to do."--"currie's life," i., p. . see buckle's "history of civilization," etc., american éd., p. . in the cases where "gentlemen" were found distributing the works the penalties were ferocious. fische palmer was sentenced to seven years' transportation. thomas muir, for advising persons to read "the works of that wretched outcast paine" (the lord advocate's words) was sentenced to fourteen years' transportation. this sentence was hissed. the tipstaff being ordered to take those who hissed into custody, replied: "my lord, they 're all hissing." from his safe retreat in paris bookseller rickman wrote his impromptu: "hail briton's land! hail freedom's shore! far happier than of old; for in thy blessed realms no more the rights of man are sold!" the famous town-crier of bolton, who reported to his masters that he had been round that place "and found in it neither the rights of man nor common sense," made a statement characteristic of the time. the aristocracy and gentry had indeed lost their humanity and their sense under a disgraceful panic. their serfs, unable to read, were fairly represented by those who, having burned paine in effigy, asked their employer if there was "any other gemman he would like burnt, for a glass o' beer." * "pari. hist.," xxxii., p. . the white bear (now replaced by the criterion restaurant) no longer knew its little circle of radicals. a symbol of how they were trampled out is discoverable in the "t. p." shoe-nails. these nails, with heads so lettered, were in great request among the gentry, who had only to hold up their boot-soles to show how they were trampling on tom paine and his principles. this at any rate was accurate. manufacturers of vases also devised ceramic anathemas.* * there are two paine pitchers in the museum at brighton, england. both were made at leeds, one probably before paine's trial, since it presents a respectable full-length portrait, holding in his hand a book, and beneath, the words: "mr. thomas paine, author of the rights of man." the other shows a serpent with paine's head, two sides being adorned with the following lines: "god save the king, and all his subjects too, likewise his forces and commanders true, may he their rights forever hence maintain against all strife occasioned by tom paine." "prithee tom paine why wilt thou meddling be in others' business which concerns not thee; for while thereon thou dost extend thy cares thou dost at home neglect thine own affairs." "god save the king!" "observe the wicked and malicious man projecting all the mischief that he can." in all of this may be read the frantic fears of the king and aristocracy which were driving the ministry to make good paine's aphorism, "there is no english constitution." an english constitution was, however, in process of formation,--in prisons, in secret conclaves, in lands of exile, and chiefly in paine's small room in paris. even in that time of parisian turbulence and peril the hunted liberals of england found more security in france than in their native land.* for the eyes of the english reformer of that period, seeing events from prison or exile, there was a perspective such as time has now supplied to the historian. it is still difficult to distribute the burden of shame fairly. pitt was unquestionably at first anxious to avoid war. that the king was determined on the war is certain; he refused to notice wilberforce when he appeared at court after his separation from pitt on that point. * when william pitt died in ,--crushed under disclosures in the impeachment of lord melville,--the verdict of many sufferers was expressed in an "epitaph impromptu" (ms.) found among the papers of thomas rickman. it has some historic interest. "reader! with eye indignant view this bier; the foe of all the human race lies here. with talents small, and those directed, too, virtue and truth and wisdom to subdue, he lived to every noble motive blind, and died, the execration of mankind. "millions were butchered by his damned plan to violate each sacred right of man; exulting he o'er earth each misery hurled, and joyed to drench in tears and blood, the world. "myriads of beings wretched he has made by desolating war, his favourite trade, who, robbed of friends and dearest ties, are left of every hope and happiness bereft. "in private life made up of fuss and pride, not e'en his vices leaned to virtue's side; unsound, corrupt, and rotten at the core, his cold and scoundrel heart was black all o'er; nor did one passion ever move his mind that bent towards the tender, warm, and kind. "tyrant, and friend to war! we hail the day when death, to bless mankind, made thee his prey, and rid the earth of all could earth disgrace,-- the foulest, bloodiest scourge of man's oppressed race." but the three attempts on his life, and his mental infirmity, may be pleaded for george iii. paine, in his letter to dundas, wrote "madjesty"; when rickman objected, he said: "let it stand." and it stands now as the best apology for the king, while it rolls on pitt's memory the guilt of a twenty-two years' war for the subjugation of thought and freedom. in that last struggle of the barbarism surviving in civilization, it was shown that the madness of a populace was easily distanced by the cruelty of courts. robespierre and marat were humanitarian beside george and his ministers; the reign of terror, and all the massacres of the french revolution put together, were child's-play compared with the anguish and horrors spread through europe by a war whose pretext was an execution england might have prevented. chapter iii. revolution vs. constitution the french revolutionists have long borne responsibility for the first declaration of war in . but from december , , when the painophobia parliament began its debates, to february st, when france proclaimed itself at war with england, the british government had done little else than declare war--and prepare war--against france. pitt, having to be re-elected, managed to keep away from parliament for several days at its opening, and the onslaught was assumed by burke. he began by heaping insults on france. on december th he boasted that he had not been cajoled by promise of promotion or pension, though he presently, on the same evening, took his seat for the first time on the treasury bench. in the "parliamentary history" (vols. xxx. and xxxi.) may be found burke's epithets on france,--the "republic of assassins," "cannibal castle," "nation of murderers," "gang of plunderers," "murderous atheists," "miscreants," "scum of the earth." his vocabulary grew in grossness, of course, after the king's execution and the declaration of war, but from the first it was ribaldry and abuse. and this did not come from a private member, but from the treasury bench. he was supported by a furious majority which stopped at no injustice. thus the convention was burdened with guilt of the september massacres, though it was not then in existence. paine's works being denounced, erskine reminded the house of the illegality of so influencing a trial not yet begun. he was not listened to. fox and fifty other earnest men had a serious purpose of trying to save the king's life, and proposed to negotiate with the convention. burke fairly foamed at the motions to that end, made by fox and lord lansdowne. what, negotiate with such villains! to whom is our agent to be accredited? burke draws a comic picture of the english ambassador entering the convention, and, when he announces himself as from "george third, by the grace of god," denounced by paine. "are we to humble ourselves before judge paine?" at this point whetstone made a disturbance and was named. there were some who found burke's trifling intolerable. mr. w. smith reminded the house that cromwell's ambassadors had been received by louis xiv. fox drew a parallel between the contemptuous terms used toward the french, and others about "hancock and his crew," with whom burke advised treaty, and with whom his majesty did treat. all this was answered by further insults to france, these corresponding with a series of practical injuries. lord gower had been recalled august th, after the formation of a republic, and all intercourse with the french minister in london, chauvelin, was terminated. in violation of the treaty of , the agents of france were refused permission to purchase grain and arms in england, and their vessels loaded with provisions seized. the circulation of french bonds, issued in , was prohibited in england. a coalition had been formed with the enemies of france, the emperor of austria and the king of prussia, finally, on the execution of louis xvi., chauvelin was ordered (january th) to leave england in eight days. talleyrand remained, but chauvelin was kicked out of the country, so to say, simply because the convention had recognized him. this appeared a plain _casus belli_, and was answered by the declaration of the convention in that sense (february st), which england answered ten days later.* * it was stipulated in the treaty of commerce between france and england. in all this paine recognized the hand of burke. while his adherents in england, as we have seen, were finding in pitt a successor to satan, there is a notable absence from paine's writings and letters of any such animosity towards that minister. he concluded at paris ( ) that the sending away an ambassador by either party, should be taken as an act of hostility by the other party. the declaration of war (february, ) by the convention... was made in exact conformity to this article in the treaty; for it was not a declaration of war against england, but a declaration that the french republic is in war with england; the first act of hostility having been committed by england. the declaration was made on chauvelin's return to france, and in consequence of it. "paine's "address to the people of france" ( ). the words of the declaration of war, following the list of injuries, are: "la convention nationale déclaré, au nom de la nation française, qu'attendu les actes multipliés et d'agressions ci-dessus mentionnés, la république française est en guerre avec le roi d'angleterre." the solemn protest of lords lauderdale, lansdowne, and derby, february st, against the address in answer to the royal message, before france had spoken, regards that address as a demonstration of universal war. the facts and the situation are carefully set forth by louis blanc, "histoire de la révolution," tome viii., p. seq. regarded pitt as a victim. "the father of pitt," he once wrote, "when a member of the house of commons, exclaiming one day, during a former war, against the enormous and ruinous expense of german connections, as the offspring of the hanover succession, and borrowing a metaphor from the story of prometheus, cried out: 'thus, like prometheus, is britain chained to the barren rock of hanover, whilst the imperial eagle preys upon her vitals.'" it is probable that on the intimations from pitt, at the close of , of his desire for private consultations with friendly frenchmen, paine entered into the honorable though unauthorized conspiracy for peace which was terminated by the expulsion of chauvelin. in the light of later events, and the desertion of dumouriez, these overtures of pitt made through talleyrand (then in london) were regarded by the french leaders, and are still regarded by french writers, as treacherous. but no sufficient reason is given for doubting pitt's good faith in that matter. writing to the president (washington), december , , the american minister, gouverneur morris, states the british proposal to be: "france shall deliver the royal family to such branch of the bourbons as the king may choose, and shall recall her troops from the countries they now occupy. in this event britain will send hither a minister and acknowledge the republic, and mediate a peace with the emperor and king of prussia. i have several reasons to believe that this information is not far from the truth." it is true that pitt had no agent in france whom he might not have disavowed, and that after the fury with which the painophobia parliament, under lead of burke, inspired by the king, had opened, could hardly have maintained any peaceful terms. nevertheless, the friends of peace in france secretly acted on this information, which gouverneur morris no doubt received from paine. a grand dinner was given by paine, at the hôtel de ville, to dumouriez, where this brilliant general met brissot, condorcet, santerre, and several eminent english radicals, among them sampson perry. at this time it was proposed to send dumouriez secretly to london, to negotiate with pitt, but this was abandoned. maret went, and he found pitt gracious and pacific. chauvelin, however, advised the french government of this illicit negotiation, and maret was ordered to return. such was the situation when louis was executed. that execution, as we have seen, might have been prevented had pitt provided the money; but it need not be supposed that, with burke now on the treasury bench, the refusal is to be ascribed to anything more than his inability to cope with his own majority, whom the king was patronizing. so completely convinced of pitt's pacific disposition were maret and his allies in france that the clandestine ambassador again departed for london. but on arriving at dover, he learned that chauvelin had been expelled, and at once returned to france.* * see louis blanc's "histoire," etc., tome viii.f p. , for the principal authorities concerning this incident.-- annual register, , ch. vi.; "mémoires tirés des papiers d'un homme d'État.," ii., p. ; "mémoires de dumouriez," t. iii., p. . paine now held more firmly than ever the first article of his faith as to practical politics: the chief task of republicanism is to break the anglo-german sceptre. france is now committed to war; it must be elevated to that european aim. lord north and america reappear in burke and france. meanwhile what is said of britain in his "rights of man" was now more terribly true of france--it had no constitution. the committee on the constitution had declared themselves ready to report early in the winter, but the mountaineers managed that the matter should be postponed until after the king's trial. as an american who prized his citizenship, paine felt chagrined and compromised at being compelled to act as a legislator and a judge because of his connection with a convention elected for the purpose of framing a legislative and judicial machinery. he and con-dorcet continued to add touches to this constitution, the committee approving, and on the first opportunity it was reported again. this was february , . but, says the _moniteur_, "the struggles between the girondins and the mountain caused the examination and discussion to be postponed." it was, however, distributed. gouverneur morris, in a letter to jefferson (march th), says this constitution "was read to the convention, but i learnt the next morning that a council had been held on it overnight, by which it was condemned." here is evidence in our american archives of a meeting or "council" condemning the constitution on the night of its submission. it must have been secret, for it does not appear in french histories, so far as i can discover. durand de maillane says that "the exclusion of robespierre and couthon from this eminent task [framing a constitution] was a new matter for discontent and jealousy against the party of pétion "--a leading girondin,--and that robespierre and his men desired "to render their work useless."* no indication of this secret condemnation of the paine-condorcet constitution, by a conclave appeared on march st, when the document was again submitted. the convention now set april th for its discussion, and the mountaineers fixed that day for the opening of their attack on the girondins. the mayor of paris appeared with a petition, adopted by the communal council of the thirty-five sections of paris, for the arrest of twenty-two members of the convention, as slanderers of paris,--"presenting the parisians to europe as men of blood,"--friends of roland, accomplices of the traitor dumouriez, enemies of the clubs. the deputies named were: brissot, guadet, vergniaud, gensonné, grangeneuve, buzot, barbaroux, salles, biroteau, pontécoulant, pétion, lanjuinais, valaze, hardy, louvet, lehardy, gor-sas, abbé fauchet, lanthenas, lasource, valady, chambon. of this list five were members of the committee on the constitution, and two supplementary members.** besides this, two of the arraigned--louvet and lasource--had been especially active in pressing forward the constitution. the mountaineers turned the discord they thus caused into a reason for deferring discussion of the constitution. * "histoire de la convention nationale," p. . durand- maillane was "the silent member" of the convention, but a careful observer and well-informed witness. i follow him and louis blanc in relating the fate of the paine-condorcet constitution. ** see vol. i., p. . they declared also that important members were absent, levying troops, and especially that marat's trial had been ordered. the discussion on the petition against the girondins, and whether the constitution should be considered, proceeded together for two days, when the mountaineers were routed on both issues. the convention returned the petition to the mayor, pronouncing it "calumnious," and it made the constitution the order of the day. robespierre, according to du-rand-maillane, showed much spite at this defeat. he adroitly secured a decision that the preliminary "declaration of rights" should be discussed first, as there could be endless talk on those generalities.* * this declaration, submitted by condorcet, april th, being largely the work of paine, is here translated: the end of all union of men in society being maintenance of their natural rights, civil and political, these rights should be the basis of the social pact: their recognition and their declaration ought to precede the constitution which secures and guarantees them. . the natural rights, civil and political, of men are liberty, equality, security, property, social protection, and resistance to oppression. . liberty consists in the power to do whatever is not contrary to the rights of others; thus, the natural rights of each man has no limits other than those which secure to other members of society enjoyment of the same rights. . the preservation of liberty depends on the sovereignty of the law, which is the expression of the general will. nothing unforbidden by law can be impeached, and none may be constrained to do what it does not command. . every man is free to make known his thought and his opinions. . freedom of the press (and every other means of publishing one's thoughts) cannot be prohibited, suspended, or limited. . every citizen shall be free in the exercise of his worship [cultê]. . equality consists in the power of each to enjoy the same rights. . the law should be equal for all, whether in recompense, punishment, or restraint. . all citizens are admissible to all public positions, employments, and functions. free peoples can recognise no grounds of preference except talents and virtues. . security consists in the protection accorded by society to each citizen for the preservation of his person, property, and rights. . none should be sued, accused, arrested, or detained, save in cases determined by the law, and in accordance with forms prescribed by it. every other act against a citizen is arbitrary and null. . those who solicit, promote, sign, execute or cause to be executed such arbitrary acts are culpable, and should be punished. . citizens against whom the execution of such acts is attempted have the right of resistance by force. every citizen summoned or arrested by the authority of law, and in the forms prescribed by it, should instantly obey; he renders himself guilty by resistance. . every man being presumed innocent until declared guilty, should his arrest be judged indispensable, all rigor not necessary to secure his person should be severely repressed by law. . none should be punished save in virtue of a law established and promulgated previous to the offence, and legally applied. . a law that should punish offences committed before its existence would be an arbitrary act. retroactive effect given to any law is a crime. . law should award only penalties strictly and evidently necessary to the general security; they should be proportioned to the offence and useful to society. . the right of property consists in a man's being master in the disposal, at his will, of his goods, capital, income, and industry. . no kind of work, commerce, or culture can be interdicted for any one; he may make, sell, and transport every species of production. . every man may engage his services, and his time; but he cannot sell himself; his person is not an alienable property. . no one may be deprived of the least portion of his property without his consent, unless because of public necessity, legally determined, exacted openly, and under the condition of a just indemnity in advance. . no tax shall be established except for the general utility, and to relieve public needs. all citizens have the right to co-operate, personally or by their representatives, in the establishment of public contributions. . instruction is the need of all, and society owes it equally to all its members. . public succors are a sacred debt of society, and it is for the law to determine their extent and application. . the social guarantee of the rights of man rests on the national sovereignty. . this sovereignty is one, indivisible, imprescriptible, and inalienable. . it resides essentially in the whole people, and each citizen has an equal right to co-operate in its exercise. . no partial assemblage of citizens, and no individual may attribute to themselves sovereignty, to exercise authority and fill any public function, without a formal delegation by the law. . social security cannot exist where the limits of public administration are not clearly determined by law, and where the responsibility of all public functionaries is not assured. . all citizens are bound to co-operate in this guarantee, and to enforce the law when summoned in its name. . men united in society should have legal means of resisting oppression. in every free government the mode of resisting different acts of oppression should be regulated by the constitution. . it is oppression when a law violates the natural rights, civil and political, which it should ensure. it is oppression when the law is violated by public officials in its application to individual cases. it is oppression when arbitrary acts violate the rights of citizens against the terms of the law. . a people has always the right to revise, reform, and change its constitution. one generation has no right to bind future generations, and all heredity in offices is absurd and tyrannical. it now appears plain that robespierre, marat, and the mountaineers generally were resolved that there should be no new government the difference between them and their opponents was fundamental: to them the revolution was an end, to the others a means. the convention was a purely revolutionary body. it had arbitrarily absorbed all legislative and judicial functions, exercising them without responsibility to any code or constitution. for instance, in state trials french law required three fourths of the voices for condemnation; had the rule been followed louis xvi. would not have perished. lanjuinais had pressed the point, and it was answered that the sentence on louis was political, for the interest of the state; _salus populi suprema lex_. this implied that the convention, turning aside from its appointed functions, had, in anticipation of the judicial forms it meant to establish, constituted itself into a vigilance committee to save the state in an emergency. but it never turned back again to its proper work. now when the constitution was framed, every possible obstruction was placed in the way of its adoption, which would have relegated most of the mountaineers to private life. robespierre and marat were in luck. the paine-condorcet constitution omitted all mention of a deity. here was the immemorial and infallible recipe for discord, of which robespierre made the most he took the "supreme being" under his protection; he also took morality under his protection, insisting that the paine-condorcet constitution gave liberty even to illicit traffic. while these discussions were going on marat gained his triumphant acquittal from the charges made against him by the girondins. this damaging blow further demoralized the majority which was eager for the constitution. by violence, by appeals against atheism, by all crafty tactics, the mountaineers secured recommitment of the constitution. to the committee were added hérault de séchelles, ramel, mathieu, couthon, saint-just,--all from the committee of public safety. the constitution as committed was the most republican document of the kind ever drafted, as remade it was a revolutionary instrument; but its preamble read: "in the presence and under the guidance (_auspices_) of the supreme being, the french people declare," etc. god was in the constitution; but when it was reported (june th) the mountaineers had their opponents _en route_ for the scaffold. the arraignment of the twenty-two, declared by the convention "calumnious" six weeks before, was approved on june d. it was therefore easy to pass such a constitution as the victors desired. some had suggested, during the theological debate, that "many crimes had been sanctioned by this king of kings,"--no doubt with emphasis on the discredited royal name. robespierre identified his "supreme being" with nature, of whose ferocities the poor girondins soon had tragical evidence.* * "les rois, les aristocrates, les tyrants qu'ils soient, sont des esclaves révoltas contre le souverain de la terre, qui est le genre humain, et contre le législateur de l'univers, qui est la nature."--robespierre's final article of "rights," adopted by the jacobins, april , . should not slaves revolt? the constitution was adopted by the convention on june th; it was ratified by the communes august th. when it was proposed to organize a government under it, and dissolve the convention, robespierre remarked: _that sounds like a suggestion of pitt!_ thereupon the constitution was suspended until universal peace, and the revolution superseded the republic as end and aim of france.* * "i observed in the french revolutions that they always proceeded by stages, and made each stage a stepping stone to another. the convention, to amuse the people, voted a constitution, and then voted to suspend the practical establishment of it till after the war, and in the meantime to carry on a revolutionary government. when robespierre fell they proposed bringing forward the suspended constitution, and apparently for this purpose appointed a committee to frame what they called organic laws, and these organic laws turned out to be a new constitution (the directory constitution which was in general a good one). when bonaparte overthrew this constitution he got himself appointed first consul for ten years, then for life, and now emperor with an hereditary succession."--paine to jefferson. ms. (dec. , ). the paine-condorcet constitution is printed in �uvres completes de condorcet, vol. xviii. that which superseded it may be read (the declaration of rights omitted) in the "constitutional history of france. by henry c. lockwood." (new york, ). it is, inter alia, a sufficient reason for describing the latter as revolutionary, that it provides that a convention, elected by a majority of the departments, and a tenth part of the primaries, to revise or alter the constitution, shall be "formed in like manner as the legislatures, and unite in itself the highest power." in other words, instead of being limited to constitutional revision, may exercise all legislative and other functions, just as the existing convention was doing. some have ascribed to robespierre a phrase he borrowed, on one occasion, from voltaire, _si dieu n' existait pas, il faudrait l'inventer_. robespierre's originality was that he did invent a god, made in his own image, and to that idol offered human sacrifices,--beginning with his own humanity. that he was genuinely superstitious is suggested by the plausibility with which his enemies connected him with the "prophetess," catharine théot, who pronounced him the reincarnate "word of god," certain it is that he revived the old forces of fanaticism, and largely by their aid crushed the girondins, who were rationalists. condorcet had said that in preparing a constitution for france they had not consulted numa's nymph or the pigeon of mahomet; they had found human reason sufficient. corruption of best is worst. in the proportion that a humane deity would be a potent sanction for righteous laws, an inhuman deity is the sanction of inhuman laws. he who summoned a nature-god to the french convention let loose the scourge on france. nature inflicts on mankind, every day, a hundred-fold the agonies of the reign of terror. robespierre had projected into nature a sentimental conception of his own, but he had no power to master the force he had evoked. that had to take the shape of the nature-gods of all time, and straightway dragged the convention down to the savage plane where discussion becomes an exchange of thunder-stones. such relapses are not very difficult to effect in revolutionary times. by killing off sceptical variations, and cultivating conformity, a cerebral evolution proceeded for ages by which kind-hearted people were led to worship jealous and cruel gods, who, should they appear in human form, would be dealt with as criminals. unfortunately, however, the nature-god does not so appear; it is represented in euphemisms, while at the same time it coerces the social and human standard. since the nature-god punishes hereditarily, kills every man at last, and so tortures millions that the suggestion of hell seems only too probable to those sufferers, a political system formed under the legitimacy of such a superstition must subordinate crimes to sins, regard atheism as worse than theft, acknowledge the arbitrary principle, and confuse retaliation with justice. from the time that the shekinah of the nature-god settled on the mountain, offences were measured, not by their injury to man, but as insults to the mountain-god, or to his anointed. in the mysterious counsels of the committee of public safety the rewards are as little harmonious with the human standard as in the ages when sabbath-breaking and murder met the same doom. under the paralyzing splendor of a divine authority, any such considerations as the suffering or death of men become petty. the average mountaineer was unable to imagine that those who tried to save louis had other than royalist motives. in this armageddon the girondins were far above their opponents in humanity and intelligence, but the conditions did not admit of an entire adherence to their honorable weapons of argument and eloquence. they too often used deadly threats, without meaning them; the mountaineers, who did mean them, took such phrases seriously, and believed the struggle to be one of life and death. such phenomena of bloodshed, connected with absurdly inadequate causes, are known in history only where gods mingle in the fray. reign of terror? what is the ancient reign of the god of battles, jealous, angry every day, with everlasting tortures of fire prepared for the unorthodox, however upright, even more than for the immoral? in france too it was a suspicion of unorthodoxy in the revolutionary creed that plunged most of the sufferers into the lake of fire and brimstone. from the time of paine's speeches on the king's fate he was conscious that marat's evil eye was on him. the american's inflexible republicanism had inspired the vigilance of the powerful journals of brissot and bonneville, which barred the way to any dictatorship. paine was even propagating a doctrine against presidency, thus marring the example of the united states, on which ambitious frenchmen, from marat to the napoleons, have depended for their stepping-stone to despotism. marat could not have any doubt of paine's devotion to the republic, but knew well his weariness of the revolution. in the simplicity of his republican faith paine had made a great point of the near adoption of the constitution, and dissolution of the convention in five or six months, little dreaming that the mountaineers were concentrating themselves on the aim of becoming masters of the existing convention and then rendering it permanent. marat regarded paine's influence as dangerous to revolutionary government, and, as he afterwards admitted, desired to crush him. the proposed victim had several vulnerable points: he had been intimate with gouverneur morris, whose hostility to france was known; he had been intimate with dumouriez, declared a traitor; and he had no connection with any of the clubs, in which so many found asylum. he might have joined one of them had he known the french language, and perhaps it would have been prudent to unite himself with the "cordeliers," in whose _esprit de corps_ some of his friends found refuge. however, the time of intimidation did not come for two months after the king's death, and paine was busy with condorcet on the task assigned them, of preparing an address to the people of england concerning the war of their government against france. this work, if ever completed, does not appear to have been published. it was entrusted (february st) to barrère, paine, condorcet, and m. faber. as frédéric masson, the learned librarian and historian of the office of foreign affairs, has found some trace of its being assigned to paine and condorcet, it may be that further research will bring to light the address. it could hardly have been completed before the warfare broke out between the mountain and the girondins, when anything emanating from condorcet and paine would have been delayed, if not suppressed. there are one or two brief essays in condorcet's works--notably "the french republic to free men"--which suggest collaboration with paine, and may be fragments of their address.* * "�uvres complètes de condorcet," paris, , t. xvi., p. : "la république françoise aux homines libres." in , when paine was in prison, a pamphlet was issued by the revolutionary government, entitled: "an answer to the declaration of the king of england, respecting his motives for carrying on the present war, and his conduct towards france." this anonymous pamphlet, which is in english, replies to the royal proclamation of october th, and bears evidence of being written while the english still occupied toulon or early in november, . there are passages in it that suggest the hand of paine, along with others which he could not have written. it is possible that some composition of his, in pursuance of the task assigned him and condorcet, was utilized by the committee of public safety in its answer to george iii. at this time the long friendship between paine and condorcet, and the marchioness too, had become very intimate. the two men had acted together on the king's trial at every step, and their speeches on bringing louis to trial suggest previous consultations between them. early in april paine was made aware of marat's hostility to him. general thomas ward reported to him a conversation in which marat had said: "frenchmen are mad to allow foreigners to live among them. they should cut off their ears, let them bleed a few days, and then cut off their heads." "but you yourself are a foreigner," ward had replied, in allusion to marat's swiss birth.* the answer is not reported. at length a tragical incident occurred, just before the trial of marat (april th), which brought paine face to face with this enemy. a wealthy young englishman, named johnson, with whom paine had been intimate in london, had followed him to paris, where he lived in the same house with his friend. his love of paine amounted to worship. having heard of marat's intention to have paine's life taken, such was the young enthusiast's despair, and so terrible the wreck of his republican dreams, that he resolved on suicide. he made a will bequeathing his property to paine, and stabbed himself. fortunately he was saved by some one who entered just as he was about to give himself the third blow. it may have been paine himself who then saved his friend's life; at any rate, he did so eventually. * "englishmen in the french revolution." by john g. alger. london, , p. . (a book of many blunders.) the decree for marat's trial was made amid galleries crowded with his adherents, male and female ("dames de la fraternité"), who hurled cries of wrath on every one who said a word against him. all were armed, the women ostentatious of their poignards. the trial before the revolutionary tribunal was already going in marat's favor, when it was determined by the girondins to bring forward this affair of johnson. paine was not, apparently, a party to this move, though he had enjoined no secrecy in telling his friend brissot of the incident, which occurred before marat was accused. on april th there appeared in bris-sot's journal _le patriote français_, the following paragraph: "a sad incident has occurred to apprise the anarchists of the mournful fruits of their frightful teaching. an englishman, whose name i reserve, had abjured his country because of his detestation of kings; he came to france hoping to find there liberty; he saw only its mask on the hideous visage of anarchy. heart-broken by this spectacle, he determined on self-destruction. before dying, he wrote the following words, which we have read, as written by his own trembling hand, on a paper which is in the possession of a distinguished foreigner:--'i had come to france to enjoy liberty, but marat has assassinated it. anarchy is even more cruel than despotism. i am unable to endure this grievous sight, of the triumph of imbecility and inhumanity over talent and virtue.'" the acting editor of _le patriote français_, girey-dupré, was summoned before the tribunal, where marat was on trial, and testified that the note published had been handed to him by brissot, who assured him that it was from the original, in the hands of thomas paine. paine deposed that he had been unacquainted with marat before the convention assembled; that he had not supposed johnson's note to have any connection with the accusations against marat. president.--did you give a copy of the note to brissot? paine.--i showed him the original. president.--did you send it to him as it is printed? paine.--brissot could only have written this note after what i read to him, and told him. i would observe to the tribunal that johnson gave himself two blows with the knife after he had understood that marat would denounce him. marat.--not because i would denounce the youth who stabbed himself, but because i wish to denounce thomas paine.* paine (continuing).--johnson had for some time suffered mental anguish. as for marat, i never spoke to him but once. in the lobby of the convention he said to me that the english people are free and happy; i replied, they groan under a double despotism.** * it would appear that paine had not been informed until marat declared it, and was confirmed by the testimony of choppin, that the attempted suicide was on his account. ** moniteur, april , . no doubt it had been resolved to keep secret the fact that young johnson was still alive. the moment was critical; a discovery that brissot had written or printed "avant de mourir" of one still alive might have precipitated matters. it came out in the trial that marat, addressing a club ("friends of liberty and equality"), had asked them to register a vow to recall from the convention "all of those faithless members who had betrayed their duties in trying to save a tyrant's life," such deputies being "traitors, royalists, or fools." meanwhile the constitution was undergoing discussion in the convention, and to that paine now gave his entire attention. on april th the convention, about midnight, when the moderates had retired and the mountaineers found themselves masters of the field, voted to entertain the petition of the parisian sections against the girondins. paine saw the star the republic sinking. on "april th, d year of the republic," he wrote as follows to jefferson: "my dear friend,--the gentleman (dr. romer) to whom i entrust this letter is an intimate acquaintance of lavater; but i have not had the opportunity of seeing him, as he had sett off for havre prior to my writing this letter, which i forward to him under cover from one of his friends, who is also an acquaintance of mine. "we are now in an extraordinary crisis, and it is not altogether without some considerable faults here. dumouriez, partly from having no fixed principles of his own, and partly from the continual persecution of the jacobins, who act without either prudence or morality, has gone off to the enemy, and taken a considerable part of the army with him. the expedition to holland has totally failed and all brabant is again in the hands of the austrians. "you may suppose the consternation which such a sudden reverse of fortune has occasioned, but it has been without commotion. dumouriez threatened to be in paris in three weeks. it is now three weeks ago; he is still on the frontier near to mons with the enemy, who do not make any progress. dumouriez has proposed to re-establish the former constitution, in which plan the austrians act with him. but if france and the national convention act prudently this project will not succeed. in the first place there is a popular disposition against it, and there is force sufficient to prevent it. in the next place, a great deal is to be taken into the calculation with respect to the enemy. there are now so many powers accidentally jumbled together as to render it exceedingly difficult to them to agree upon any common object. "the first object, that of restoring the old monarchy, is evidently given up by the proposal to re-establish the late constitution. the object of england and prussia was to preserve holland, and the object of austria was to recover brabant; while those separate objects lasted, each party having one, the confederation could hold together, each helping the other; but after this i see not how a common object is to be formed. to all this is to be added the probable disputes about opportunity, the expense, and the projects of reimbursements. the enemy has once adventured into france, and they had the permission or the good fortune to get back again. on every military calculation it is a hazardous adventure, and armies are not much disposed to try a second time the ground upon which they have been defeated. "had this revolution been conducted consistently with its principles, there was once a good prospect of extending liberty through the greatest part of europe; but i now relinquish that hope. should the enemy by venturing into france put themselves again in a condition of being captured, the hope will revive; but this is a risk that i do not wish to see tried, lest it should fail. "as the prospect of a general freedom is now much shortened, i begin to contemplate returning home. i shall await the event of the proposed constitution, and then take my final leave of europe. i have not written to the president, as i have nothing to communicate more than in this letter. please to present to him my affection and compliments, and remember me among the circle of my friends. your sincere and affectionate friend, "thomas paine. "p. s. i just now received a letter from general lewis morris, who tells me that the house and barn on my farm at n. rochelle are burnt down. i assure you i shall not bring money enough to build another." four days after this letter was written marat, triumphant, was crowned with oak leaves. fou-frede in his speech (april th) had said: "marat has formally demanded dictatorship." this was the mob's reply: _bos locutus est_. with danton, paine had been on friendly terms, though he described as "rose water" the author's pleadings against the guillotine. on may th, paine wrote to danton a letter brought to light by taine, who says: "compared with the speeches and writings of the time, it produces the strangest effect by its practical good sense."* dr. robinet also finds here evidence of "a lucid and wise intellect."** * "la revolution," ii., pp. , , . ** "danton emigre," p. . "paris, may th, and year of the republic ( ). "citoyen danton: "as you read english, i write this letter to you without parsing it through the hands of a translator. i am exceedingly disturbed at the distractions, jealousies, discontents and uneasiness that reign among us, and which, if they continue, will bring ruin and disgrace on the republic. when i left america in the year , it was my intention to return the year following, but the french revolution, and the prospect it afforded of extending the principles of liberty and fraternity through the greater part of europe, have induced me to prolong my stay upwards of six years. |i now despair of seeing the great object of european liberty accomplished, and my despair arises not from, the combined foreign powers, not from the intrigues of aristocracy and priestcraft, but from the tumultuous misconduct with which the internal affairs of the present revolution is conducted. "all that now can be hoped for is limited to france only, and i agree with your motion of not interfering in the government of any foreign country, nor permitting any foreign country to interfere in the government of france. this decree was necessary as a preliminary toward terminating the war. but while these internal contentions continue, while the hope remains to the enemy of seeing the republic fall to pieces, while not only the representatives of the departments but representation itself is publicly insulted, as it has lately been and now is by the people of paris, or at least by the tribunes, the enemy will be encouraged to hang about the frontiers and await the issue of circumstances. "i observe that the confederated powers have not yet recognised monsieur, or d'artois, as regent, nor made any proclamation in favour of any of the bourbons; but this negative conduct admits of two different conclusions. the one is that of abandoning the bourbons and the war together; the other is that of changing the object of the war and substituting a partition scheme in the place of their first object, as they have done by poland. if this should be their object, the internal contentions that now rage will favour that object far more than it favoured their former object. the danger every day increases of a rupture between paris and the departments. the departments did not send their deputies to paris to be insulted, and every insult shown to them is an insult to the departments that elected and sent them. i see but one effectual plan to prevent this rupture taking place, and that is to fix the residence of the convention, and of the future assemblies, at a distance from paris. "i saw, during the american revolution, the exceeding inconvenience that arose by having the government of congress within the limits of any municipal jurisdiction. congress first resided in philadelphia, and after a residence of four years it found it necessary to leave it. it then adjourned to the state of jersey. it afterwards removed to new york; it again removed from new york to philadelphia, and after experiencing in every one of these places the great inconvenience of a government, it formed the project of building a town, not within the limits of any municipal jurisdiction, for the future residence of congress. in any one of the places where congress resided, the municipal authority privately or openly opposed itself to the authority of congress, and the people of each of those places expected more attention from congress than their equal share with the other states amounted to. the same thing now takes place in france, but in a far greater excess. "i see also another embarrassing circumstance arising in paris of which we have had full experience in america. i mean that of fixing the price of provisions. but if this measure is to be attempted it ought to be done by the municipality. the convention has nothing to do with regulations of this kind; neither can they be carried into practice. the people of paris may say they will not give more than a certain price for provisions, but as they cannot compel the country people to bring provisions to market the consequence will be directly contrary to their expectations, and they will find clearness and famine instead of plenty and cheapness. they may force the price down upon the stock in hand, but after that the market will be empty. "i will give you an example. in philadelphia we undertook, among other regulations of this kind, to regulate the price of salt; the consequence was that no salt was brought to market, and the price rose to thirty-six shillings sterling per bushel. the price before the war was only one shilling and sixpence per bushel; and we regulated the price of flour (farine) till there was none in the market, and the people were glad to procure it at any price. "there is also a circumstance to be taken into the account which is not much attended to. the assignats are not of the same value they were a year ago, and as the quantity increases the value of them will diminish. this gives the appearance of things being dear when they are not so in fact, for in the same proportion that any kind of money falls in value articles rise in price. if it were not for this the quantity of assignats would be too great to be circulated. paper money in america fell so much in value from this excessive quantity of it, that in the year i gave three hundred paper dollars for one pair of worsted stockings. what i write you upon this subject is experience, and not merely opinion. "i have no personal interest in any of these matters, nor in any party disputes. i attend only to general principles. "as soon as a constitution shall be established i shall return to america; and be the future prosperity of france ever so great, i shall enjoy no other part of it than the happiness of knowing it. in the mean time i am distressed to see matters so badly conducted, and so little attention paid to moral principles. it is these things that injure the character of the revolution and discourage the progress of liberty all over the world. "when i began this letter i did not intend making it so lengthy, but since i have gone thus far i will fill up the remainder of the sheet with such matters as occur to me. "there ought to be some regulation with respect to the spirit of denunciation that now prevails. if every individual is to indulge his private malignancy or his private ambition, to denounce at random and without any kind of proof, all confidence will be undermined and all authority be destroyed. calumny is a species of treachery that ought to be punished as well as any other kind of treachery. it is a private vice productive of public evils; because it is possible to irritate men into disaffection by continual calumny who never intended to be disaffected. it is therefore, equally as necessary to guard against the evils of unfounded or malignant suspicion as against the evils of blind confidence. it is equally as necessary to protect the characters of public officers from calumny as it is to punish them for treachery or misconduct. for my own part i shall hold it a matter of doubt, until better evidence arises than is known at present, whether dumouriez has been a traitor from policy or from resentment. there was certainly a time when he acted well, but it is not every man whose mind is strong enough to bear up against ingratitude, and i think he experienced a great deal of this before he revolted. calumny becomes harmless and defeats itself when it attempts to act upon too large a scale. thus the denunciation of the sections [of paris] against the twenty-two deputies falls to the ground. the departments that elected them are better judges of their moral and political characters than those who have denounced them. this denunciation will injure paris in the opinion of the departments because it has the appearance of dictating to them what sort of deputies they shall elect. most of the acquaintances that i have in the convention are among those who are in that list, and i know there are not better men nor better patriots than what they are. "i have written a letter to marat of the same date as this but not on the same subject. he may show it to you if he chuse. "votre ami, "thomas paine. "citoyen danton." it is to be hoped that paine's letter to marat may be discovered in france; it is shown by the cob-bett papers, printed in the appendix, that he kept a copy, which there is reason to fear perished with general bonneville's library in st. louis. whatever may be the letter's contents, there is no indication that thereafter marat troubled paine. possibly danton and marat compared their letters, and the latter got it into his head that hostility to this american, anxious only to cross the ocean, could be of no advantage to him. or perhaps he remembered that if a hue and cry were raised against "foreigners" it could not stop short of his own leaf-crowned neufchatel head. he had shown some sensitiveness about that at his trial. samson-pegnet had testified that, at conversations in paine's house, marat had been reported as saying that it was necessary to massacre all the foreigners, especially the english. this marat pronounced an "atrocious calumny, a device of the statesmen [his epithet for girondins] to render me odious." whatever his motives, there is reason to believe that marat no longer included paine in his proscribed list. had it been otherwise a fair opportunity of striking down paine presented itself on the occasion, already alluded to, when paine gave his testimony in favor of general miranda. miranda was tried before the revolutionary tribunal on may th, and three days following. he had served under dumouriez, was defeated, and was suspected of connivance with his treacherous commander. paine was known to have been friendly with dumouriez, and his testimony in favor of miranda might naturally have been used against both men. miranda was, however, acquitted, and that did not make marat better disposed towards that adventurer's friends, all girondins, or, like paine, who belonged to no party, hostile to jacobinism. yet when, on june d, the doomed girondins were arrested, there were surprising exceptions: paine and his literary collaborateur, condorcet. moreover, though the translator of paine's works, lanthenas, was among the proscribed, his name was erased on marat's motion. on june th robespierre demanded a more stringent law against foreigners, and one was soon after passed ordering their imprisonment. it was understood that this could not apply to the two foreigners in the convention--paine and anacharsis clootz,--though it was regarded as a kind of warning to them. i have seen it stated, but without authority, that paine had been admonished by danton to stay away from the convention on june d, and from that day there could not be the slightest utility in his attendance. the mountaineers had it all their own way. for simply criticising the constitution they brought forward in place of that of the first committee, condorcet had to fly from prosecution. others also fled, among them brissot and duchatel. what with the arrestations and flights paine found himself, in june, almost alone. in the convention he was sometimes the solitary figure left on the plain, where but now sat the brilliant statesmen of france. they, his beloved friends, have started in procession towards the guillotine, for even flight must end there; daily others are pressed into their ranks; his own summons, he feels, is only a question of a few weeks or days. how paine loved those men--brissot, condorcet, lasource, ducha-tel, vergniaud, gensonné! never was man more devoted to his intellectual comrades. even across a century one may realize what it meant to him, that march of some of his best friends to the scaffold, while others were hunted through france, and the agony of their families, most of whom he well knew. alas, even this is not the worst! for what were the personal fate of himself or any compared with the fearful fact that the harvest is past and the republic not saved! thus had ended all his labors, and his visions of the commonwealth of man. the time had come when many besides poor johnson sought peace in annihilation. paine, heartbroken, sought oblivion in brandy. recourse to such anaesthetic, of which any affectionate man might fairly avail himself under such incredible agony as the ruin of his hopes and the approaching murder of his dearest friends, was hitherto unknown in paine's life. he drank freely, as was the custom of his time; but with the exception of the evidence of an enemy at his trial in england, that he once saw him under the influence of wine after a dinner party ( ), which he admitted was "unusual," no intimation of excess is discoverable in any contemporary record of paine until this his fifty-seventh year. he afterwards told his friend rickman that, "borne down by public and private affliction, he had been driven to excesses in paris"; and, as it was about this time that gouverneur morris and colonel bosville, who had reasons for disparaging paine, reported stories of his drunkenness (growing ever since), we may assign the excesses mainly to june. it will be seen by comparison of the dates of events and documents presently mentioned that paine could not have remained long in this pardonable refuge of mental misery. charlotte corday's poignard cut a rift in the black cloud. after that tremendous july th there is positive evidence not only of sobriety, but of life and work on paine's part that make the year memorable. marat dead, hope springs up for the arrested girondins. they are not yet in prison, but under "arrestation in their homes"; death seemed inevitable while marat lived, but charlotte corday has summoned a new leader. why may paine's imperilled comrades not come forth again? certainly they will if the new chieftain is danton, who under his radical rage hides a heart. or if marat's mantle falls on robespierre, would not that scholarly lawyer, who would have abolished capital punishment, reverse marat's cruel decrees? robespierre had agreed to the new constitution (reported by paine's friend, hérault de séchelles) and when even that dubious instrument returns with the popular sanction, all may be well. the convention, which is doing everything except what it was elected to do, will then dissolve, and the happy republic remember it only as a nightmare. so paine takes heart again, abandons the bowl of forgetfulness, and becomes a republican socrates instructing disciples in an old french garden. chapter iv. a garden in the faubourg st. denis sir george trevelyan has written a pregnant passage, reminding the world of the moral burden which radicals in england had to bear a hundred years ago. "when to speak or write one's mind on politics is to obtain the reputation, and render one's self liable to the punishment of a criminal, social discredit, with all its attendant moral dangers, soon attaches itself to the more humble opponents of a ministry. to be outside the law as a publisher or a pamphleteer is only less trying to conscience and conduct than to be outside the law as a smuggler or a poacher; and those who, ninety years ago, placed themselves within the grasp of the penal statutes as they were administered in england and barbarously perverted in scotland were certain to be very bold men, and pretty sure to be unconventional up to the uttermost verge of respectability. as an italian liberal was sometimes half a bravo, and a spanish patriot often more than half a brigand, so a british radical under george the third had generally, it must be confessed, a dash of the bohemian. such, in a more or less mitigated form, were paine and cob-bett, hunt, hone, and holcroft; while the same causes in part account for the elfish vagaries of shelley and the grim improprieties of godwin. but when we recollect how these, and the like of these, gave up every hope of worldly prosperity, and set their life and liberty in continual hazard for the sake of that personal and political freedom which we now exercise as unconsciously as we breathe the air, it would be too exacting to require that each and all of them should have lived as decorously as perceval, and died as solvent as bishop tomline."* to this right verdict it may be added that, even at the earlier period when it was most applicable, the radicals could only produce one rival in profligacy (john wilkes) to their aristocratic oppressors. it may also be noted as a species of homage that the slightest failings of eminent reformers become historic. the vices of burke and fox are forgotten. who remembers that the younger pitt was brought to an early grave by the bottle? but every fault of those who resisted his oppression is placed under a solar microscope. although, as sir george affirms, the oppressors largely caused the faults, this homage to the higher moral standard of the reformers may be accepted.** * "early history of charles james fox," american éd., p. a ** the following document was found among the papers of mr. john han, originally of leicester, england, and has been forwarded to me by his descendant, j. dutton steele, jr., of philadelphia. "a copy of a letter from the chairman of a meeting of the gentry and qergy at atherstone, written in consequence of an envious schoolmaster and two or three others who informed the meeting that the excise officers of polesworth were employed in distributing the rights of man; but which was very false. "sir: i should think it unnecessary to inform you, that the purport of his majesty's proclamation in the month of may last, and the numerous meetings which are daily taking place both in town and country, are for the avowed purpose of suppressing treasonable and seditious writings amongst which mr. payne's rights of man ranks most conspicuous. were i not informed you have taken some pains in spreading that publication, i write to say if you don't from this time adopt a different kind of conduct you will be taken notice of in such way as may prove very disagreeable. "the eyes of the country are upon you and you will do well in future to shew yourself faithful to the master who employs you. "i remain, "your hble servant, "(signed) jos. boultbee. baxterby, th deer., ' . "n. b. the letter was written the next morning after the meeting where most of the loyal souls got drunk to an uncommon degree. they drank his majesty's health so often the reckoning amounted to s. d. each. one of the informers threw down a shilling and ran away." it was, indeed, a hard time for reformers in england. among them were many refined gentlemen who felt that it was no country for a thinker and scholar to live in. among the pathetic pictures of the time was that of the twelve scholars, headed by coleridge and southey, and twelve ladies, who found the atmosphere of england too impure for any but slaves to breathe, and proposed to seek in america some retreat where their pastoral "pantisocrasy" might be realized. lack of funds prevented the fulfilment of this dream, but that it should have been an object of concert and endeavor, in that refined circle at bristol, is a memorable sign of that dreadful time. in the absence of means to form such communities, preserving the culture and charm of a society evolved out of barbarism, apart from the walls of a remaining political barbarism threatening it with their ruins, some scholars were compelled, like coleridge, to rejoin the feudalists, and help them to buttress the crumbling castle. they secured themselves from the social deterioration of living on wild "honey-dew" in a wilderness, at cost of wearing intellectual masks. some fled to america, like cobbett. but others fixed their abode in paris, where radicalism was fashionable and invested with the charm of the _salon_ and the theatre. before the declaration of war paine had been on friendly terms with some eminent englishmen in paris: he dined every week with lord lauderdale, dr. john moore, an author, and others in some restaurant. after most of these had followed lord gower to england he had to be more guarded. a british agent, major semple, approached him under the name of major lisle. he professed to be an irish patriot, wore the green cockade, and desired introduction to the minister of war. paine fortunately knew too many irishmen to fall into this snare.* but general miranda, as we have seen, fared better. paine was, indeed, so overrun with visitors and adventurers that he appropriated two mornings of each week at the philadelphia house for levees. these, however, became insufficient to stem the constant stream of visitors, including spies and lion-hunters, so that he had little time for consultation with the men and women whose co-operation he needed in public affairs. he therefore leased an out-of-the-way house, reserving knowledge of it for particular friends, while still retaining his address at the philadelphia hotel, where the levees were continued. * rickman, p. . the irony of fate had brought an old mansion of madame de pompadour to become the residence of thomas paine and his half dozen english disciples. it was then, and still is, no. faubourg st. denis. here, where a king's mistress held her merry fêtes, and issued the decrees of her reign--sometimes of terror,--the little band of english humanitarians read and conversed, and sported in the garden. in a little essay on "forgetfulness," addressed to his friend, lady smith, paine described these lodgings. "they were the most agreeable, for situation, of any i ever had in paris, except that they were too remote from the convention, of which i was then a member. but this was recompensed by their being also remote from the alarms and confusion into which the interior of paris was then often thrown. the news of those things used to arrive to us, as if we were in a state of tranquillity in the country. the house, which was enclosed by a wall and gateway from the street, was a good deal like an old mansion farm-house, and the court-yard was like a farm yard, stocked with fowls,--ducks, turkies, and geese; which, for amusement, we used to feed out of the parlor window on the ground floor. there were some hutches for rabbits, and a sty with two pigs. beyond was a garden of more than an acre of ground, well laid out, and stocked with excellent fruit trees. the orange, apricot, and greengage plum were the best i ever tasted; and it is the only place where i saw the wild cucumber. the place had formerly been occupied by some curious person. "my apartments consisted of three rooms; the first for wood, water, etc.; the next was the bedroom; and beyond it the sitting room, which looked into the garden through a glass door; and on the outside there was a small landing place railed in, and a flight of narrow stairs almost hidden by the vines that grew over it, by which i could descend into the garden without going down stairs through the house.... i used to find some relief by walking alone in the garden, after dark, and cursing with hearty good will the authors of that terrible system that had turned the character of the revolution i had been proud to defend. i went but little to the convention, and then only to make my appearance, because i found it impossible to join in their tremendous decrees, and useless and dangerous to oppose them. my having voted and spoken extensively, more so than any other member, against the execution of the king, had already fixed a mark upon me; neither dared any of my associates in the convention to translate and speak in french for me anything i might have dared to have written.... pen and ink were then of no use to me; no good could be done by writing, and no printer dared to print; and whatever i might have written, for my private amusement, as anecdotes of the times, would have been continually exposed to be examined, and tortured into any meaning that the rage of party might fix upon it. and as to softer subjects, my heart was in distress at the fate of my friends, and my harp hung upon the weeping willows. "as it was summer, we spent most of our time in the garden, and passed it away in those childish amusements that serve to keep reflection from the mind,--such as marbles, scotch hops, battledores, etc., at which we were all pretty expert. in this retired manner we remained about six or seven weeks, and our landlord went every evening into the city to bring us the news of the day and the evening journal." the "we" included young johnson, mr. and mrs. christie, mr. choppin, probably mr. shapworth, an american, and m. laborde, a scientific friend of paine. these appear to have entered with paine into co-operative housekeeping, though taking their chief meals at the restaurants. in the evenings they were joined by others,--the brissots (before the arrest), nicholas bonneville, joel barlow, captain imlay, mary wollstonecraft, the rolands. mystical madame roland dreaded paine's power, which she considered more adapted to pull down than to build, but has left a vivid impression of "the boldness of his conceptions, the originality of his style, the striking truths he throws out bravely among those whom they offend." the mr. shapworth alluded to is mentioned in a manuscript journal of daniel constable, sent me by his nephew, clair j. grèce, ll.d. this english gentleman visited baton rouge and shapworth's plantation in . "mr. s.," he says, "has a daughter married to the governor [robinson], has travelled in europe, married a french lady. he is a warm friend of thomas paine, as is his son-in-law. he lived with paine many months at paris. he [paine] was then a sober, correct gentleman in appearance and manner." the english refugees, persecuted for selling the "rights of man," were, of course, always welcomed by paine, and poor rickman was his guest during this summer of .* the following reminiscence of paine, at a time when gouverneur morris was (for reasons that presently appear) reporting him to his american friends as generally drunk, was written by rickman: * rickman appears to have escaped from england in , according to the following sonnet sent me by dr. grèce. it is headed: "sonnet to my little girl, . written at calais, on being pursued by cruel prosecution and persecution." "farewell, sweet babe! and mayst thou never know, like me, the pressure of exceeding woe. some griefs (for they are human nature's right) on life's eventful stage will be thy lot; some generous cares to clear thy mental sight, some pains, in happiest hours, perhaps, begot; but mayst thou ne'er be, like thy father, driven from a loved partner, family, and home, snatched from each heart-felt bliss, domestic heaven! from native shores, and all that's valued, roam. oh, may bad governments, the source of human woe, ere thou becom'st mature, receive their deadly blow; then mankind's greatest curse thou ne'et wilt know." "he usually rose about seven. after breakfast he usually strayed an hour or two in the garden, where he one morning pointed out the kind of spider whose web furnished him with the first idea of constructing his iron bridge; a fine model of which, in mahogany, is preserved in paris. the little happy circle who lived with him will ever remember those days with delight: with these select friends he would talk of his boyish days, played at chess, whist, piquet, or cribbage, and enliven the moments by many interesting anecdotes: with these he would play at marbles, scotch hops, battledores, etc.: on the broad and fine gravel walk at the upper end of the garden, and then retire to his boudoir, where he was up to his knees in letters and papers of various descriptions. here he remained till dinner time; and unless he visited brissot's family, or some particular friend, in the evening, which was his frequent custom, he joined again the society of his favorites and fellow-boarders, with whom his conversation was often witty and cheerful, always acute and improving, but never frivolous. incorrupt, straightforward, and sincere, he pursued his political course in france, as everywhere else, let the government or clamor or faction of the day be what it might, with firmness, with clearness, and without a shadow of turning." in the spring of the present writer visited the spot. the lower front of the old mansion is divided into shops,--a fruiterer being appropriately next the gateway, which now opens into a wide thoroughfare. above the rooms once occupied by paine was the sign "ecrivain publique,"--placed there by a mademoiselle who wrote letters and advertisements for humble neighbors not expert in penmanship. at the end of what was once the garden is a printer's office, in which was a large lithograph portrait of victor hugo. the printer, his wife, and little daughter were folding publications of the "extreme left." near the door remains a veritable survival of the garden and its living tenants which amused paine and his friends. there were two ancient fruit trees, of which one was dying, but the other budding in the spring sunshine. there were ancient coops with ducks, and pigeon-houses with pigeons, also rabbits, and some flowers. this little nook, of perhaps forty square feet, and its animals, had been there--so an old inhabitant told me--time out of mind. they belonged to nobody in particular; the pigeons were fed by the people around; the fowls were probably kept there by some poultryman. there were eager groups attending every stage of the investigation. the exceptional antiquity of the mansion had been recognized by its occupants,--several families,--but without curiosity, and perhaps with regret. comparatively few had heard of paine. shortly before i had visited the garden near florence which boccaccio's immortal tales have kept in perennial beauty through five centuries. it may be that in the far future some brother of boccace will bequeath to paris as sweet a legend of the garden where beside the plague of blood the prophet of the universal republic realized his dream in microcosm. here gathered sympathetic spirits from america, england, france, germany, holland, switzerland, freed from prejudices of race, rank, or nationality, striving to be mutually helpful, amusing themselves with arcadian sports, studying nature, enriching each other by exchange of experiences. it is certain that in all the world there was no group of men and women more disinterestedly absorbed in the work of benefiting their fellow-beings. they could not, however, like boccaccio's ladies and gentlemen "kill death" by their witty tales; for presently beloved faces disappeared from their circle, and the cruel axe was gleaming over them. and now the old hotel became the republican capitol of europe. there sat an international premier with his cabinet, concentrated on the work of saving the girondins. he was indeed treated by the executive government as a minister. it was supposed by paine and believed by his adherents that robespierre had for him some dislike. paine in later years wrote of robespierre as a "hypocrite," and the epithet may have a significance not recognized by his readers. it is to me probable that paine considered himself deceived by robespierre with professions of respect, if not of friendliness before being cast into prison; a conclusion naturally based on requests from the ministers for opinions on public affairs. the archives of the revolution contain various evidences of this, and several papers by paine evidently in reply to questions. we may feel certain that every subject propounded was carefully discussed in paine's little cosmopolitan cabinet before his opinion was transmitted to the revolutionary cabinet of committees. in reading the subjoined documents it must be borne in mind that robespierre had not yet been suspected of the cruelty presently associated with his name. the queen and the girondist leaders were yet alive. of these leaders paine was known to be the friend, and it was of the utmost importance that he should be suavely loyal to the government that had inherited these prisoners from marat's time. the first of these papers is erroneously endorsed "january . thorn. payne. copie," in the french state archives.* its reference to the defeat of the duke of york at dunkirk assigns its date to the late summer. it is headed, "observations on the situation of the powers joined against france." * États unis. vol. . document . "it is always useful to know the position and the designs of one's enemies. it is much easier to do so by combining and comparing the events, and by examining the consequences which result from them, than by forming one's judgment by letters found or intercepted. these letters could be fabricated with the intention of deceiving, but events or circumstances have a character which is proper to them. if in the course of our political operations we mistake the designs of our enemy, it leads us to do precisely that which he desired we should do, and it happens, by the fact, but against our intentions, that we work for him. "it appears at first sight that the coalition against france is not of the nature of those which form themselves by a treaty. it has been the work of circumstances. it is a heterogeneous mass, the parts of which dash against each other, and often neutralise themselves. they have but one single point of reunion, the re-establishment of the monarchical government in france. two means can conduct them to the execution of this plan. the first is, to re-establish the bourbons, and with them the monarchy; the second, to make a division similar to that which they have made in poland, and to reign themselves in france. the political questions to be solved are, then, to know on which of these two plans it is most probable, the united powers will act; and which are the points of these plans on which they will agree or disagree. "supposing their aim to be the re-establishment of the bourbons, the difficulty which will present itself, will be, to know who will be their allies? "will england consent to the re-establishment of the compact of family in the person of the bourbons, against whom she has machinated and fought since her existence? will prussia consent to re-establish the alliance which subsisted between france and austria, or will austria wish to re-establish the ancient alliance between france and prussia, which was directed against her? will spain, or any other maritime power, allow france and her marine to ally themselves to england? in fine, will any of these powers consent to furnish forces which could be directed against herself? however, all these cases present themselves in the hypothesis of the restoration of the bourbons. "if we suppose that their plan be the dismemberment of france, difficulties will present themselves under another form, but not of the same nature. it will no longer be question, in this case, of the bourbons, as their position will be worse; for if their preservation is a part of their first plan, their destruction ought to enter in the second; because it is necessary for the success of the dismembering that not a single prétendant to the crown of france should exist. "as one must think of all the probabilities in political calculations, it is not unlikely that some of the united powers, having in view the first of these plans, and others the second,--that this may be one of the causes of their disagreement it is to be remembered that russia recognised a regency from the beginning of spring; not one of the other powers followed her example. the distance of russia from france, and the different countries by which she is separated from her, leave no doubt as to her dispositions with regard to the plan of division; and as much as one can form an opinion on the circumstances, it is not her scheme. "the coalition directed against france, is composed of two kinds of powers. the maritime powers, not having the same interest as the others, will be divided, as to the execution of the project of division. "i do not hesitate to believe that the politic of the english government is to foment the scheme of dismembering, and the entire destruction of the bourbon family. "the difficulty which must arise, in this last hypothesis, be* tween the united maritime powers proceeds from their views being entirely opposed. "the trading vessels of the northern nations, from holland to russia, must pass through the narrow channel, which lies between dunkirk and the coasts of england; and consequently not one of them, will allow this latter power to have forts on both sides of this strait. the audacity with which she has seized the neutral vessels ought to demonstrate to all nations how much her schemes increase their danger, and menace the security of their present and future commerce. "supposing then that the other nations oppose the plans of england, she will be forced to cease the war with us; or, if she continues it, the northern nations will become interested in the safety of france. "there are three distinct parties in england at this moment: the government party, the revolutionary party, and an intermedial party,--which is only opposed to the war on account of the expense it entails, and the harm it does commerce and manufacture. i am speaking of the people, and not of the parliament the latter is divided into two parties: the ministerial, and the anti-ministerial. the revolutionary party, the intermedial party and the anti-ministerial party will all rejoice, publicly or privately, at the defeat of the duke of york's army, at dunkirk. the intermedial party, because they hope that this defeat will finish the war. the antiministerial party, because they hope it will overthrow the ministry. and all the three because they hate the duke of york. such is the state of the different parties in england. "signed: thomas paine." in the same volume of the state archives (paris) is the following note by paine, with its translation: "you mentioned to me that saltpetre was becoming scarce. i communicate to you a project of the late captain paul jones, which, if successfully put in practice, will furnish you with that article. "all the english east india ships put into st. helena, off the coast of africa, on their return from india to england. a great part of their ballast is saltpetre. captain jones, who had been at st. helena, says that the place can be very easily taken. his proposal was to send off a small squadron for that purpose, to keep the english flag flying at port. the english vessels will continue coming in as usual. by this means it will be a long time before the government of england can have any knowledge of what has happened. the success of this depends so much upon secrecy that i wish you would translate this yourself, and give it to barrère." in the next volume ( ) of the french archives, marked "États unis, ," is a remarkable document (no. ), entitled "a citizen of america to the citizens of europe." the name of paine is only pencilled on it, and it was probably written by him; but it purports to have been written in america, and is dated "philadelphia, july , ; th year of independence." it is a clerk's copy, so that it cannot now be known whether the ruse of its origin in philadelphia was due to paine or to the government it is an extended paper, and repeats to some extent, though not literally, what is said in the "observations" quoted above. possibly the government, on receiving that paper (document also), desired paine to write it out as an address to the "citizens of europe." it does not appear to have been published. the first four paragraphs of this paper, combined with the "observations," will suffice to show its character. "understanding that a proposal is intended to be made at the ensuing meeting of the congress of the united states of america, to send commissioners to europe to confer with the ministers of all the neutral powers, for the purpose of negotiating preliminaries of peace, i address this letter to you on that subject, and on the several matters connected therewith. "in order to discuss this subject through all its circumstances, it will be necessary to take a review of the state of europe, prior to the french revolution. it will from thence appear, that the powers leagued against france are fighting to attain an object, which, were it possible to be attained, would be injurious to themselves. "this is not an uncommon error in the history of wars and governments, of which the conduct of the english government in the war against america is a striking instance. she commenced that war for the avowed purpose of subjugating america; and after wasting upwards of one hundred millions sterling, and then abandoning the object, she discovered in the course of three or four years, that the prosperity of england was increased, instead of being diminished, by the independence of america. in short, every circumstance is pregnant with some natural effect, upon which intentions and opinions have no influence; and the political error lies in misjudging what the effect will be. england misjudged it in the american war, and the reasons i shall now offer will shew, that she misjudges it in the present war.--in discussing this subject, i leave out of the question every thing respecting forms and systems of government; for as all the governments of europe differ from each other, there is no reason that the government of france should not differ from the rest. "the clamours continually raised in all the countries of europe were, that the family of the bourbons was become too powerful; that the intrigues of the court of france endangered the peace of europe. austria saw with a jealous eye the connection of france with prussia; and prussia, in her turn became jealous of the connection of france with austria; england had wasted millions unsuccessfully in attempting to prevent the family compact with spain; russia disliked the alliance between france and turkey; and turkey became apprehensive of the inclination of france towards an alliance with russia. sometimes the quadruple alliance alarmed some of the powers, and at other times a contrary system alarmed others, and in all those cases the charge was always made against the intrigues of the bourbons." in each of these papers a plea for the imperilled girondins is audible. each is a reminder that he, thomas paine, friend of the brissotins, is continuing their anxious and loyal vigilance for the republic. and during all this summer paine had good reason to believe that his friends were safe. robespierre was eloquently deprecating useless effusion of blood. as for paine himself, he was not only consulted on public questions, but trusted in practical affairs. he was still able to help americans and englishmen who invoked his aid. writing to lady smith concerning two applications of that kind, he says: "i went into my chamber to write and sign a certificate for them, which i intended to take to the guard house to obtain their release. just as i had finished it, a man came into my room, dressed in the parisian uniform of a captain, and spoke to me in good english, and with a good address. he told me that two young men, englishmen, were arrested and detained in the guard house, and that the section (meaning those who represented and acted for the section) had sent him to ask me if i knew them, in which case they would be liberated. this matter being soon settled between us, he talked to me about the revolution, and something about the 'rights of man,' which he had read in english; and at parting offered me, in a polite and civil manner, his services. and who do you think the man was who offered me his services? it was no other than the public executioner, samson, who guillotined the king and all who were guillotined in paris, and who lived in the same street with me." there appeared no reason to suppose this a domiciliary visit, or that it had any relation to anything except the two englishmen. samson was not a detective. it soon turned out, however, that there was a serpent creeping into paine's little garden in the faubourg st denis. he and his guests knew it not, however, until all their hopes fell with the leaves and blossoms amid which they had passed a summer to which paine, from his prison, looked back with fond recollection. chapter v. a conspiracy "he suffered under pontius pilate." pilate's gallant struggle to save jesus from lynchers survives in no kindly memorial save among the peasants of oberammergau. it is said that the impression once made in england by the miracle play has left its relic in the miserable puppet-play punch and judy (_pontius cum jud�is_); but meanwhile the church repeats, throughout christendom, "he suffered under pontius pilatè." it is almost normal in history that the brand of infamy falls on the wrong man. this is the penalty of personal eminence, and especially of eloquence. in the opening years of the french revolution the two men in europe who seemed omnipotent were pitt and robespierre. by reason of their eloquence, their ingenious defences, their fame, the columns of credit and discredit were begun in their names, and have so continued. english liberalism, remembering the imprisoned and flying writers, still repeats, "they suffered under william pitt." french republics transmit their legend of condorcet, camille desmoulins, brissot, malesherbes, "they suffered under robespierre." the friends, disciples, biographers, of thomas paine have it in their creed that he suffered under both pitt and robespierre, it is certain that neither pitt nor robespierre was so strong as he appeared. their hands cannot be cleansed, but they are historic scapegoats of innumerable sins they never committed. unfortunately for robespierre's memory, in england and america especially, those who for a century might have been the most ready to vindicate a slandered revolutionist have been confronted by the long imprisonment of the author of the "rights of man," and by the discovery of his virtual death-sentence in robespierre's handwriting. louis blanc, robespierre's great vindicator, could not, we may assume, explain this ugly fact, which he passes by in silence, he has proved, conclusively as i think, that robespierre was among the revolutionists least guilty of the terror; that he was murdered by a conspiracy of those whose cruelties he was trying to restrain; that, when no longer alive to answer, they burdened him with their crimes, as the only means of saving their heads. robespierre's doom was sealed when he had real power, and used it to prevent any organization of the constitutional government which might have checked revolutionary excesses. he then, because of a superstitious faith in the auspices of the supreme being, threw the reins upon the neck of the revolution he afterwards vainly tried to curb. others, who did not wish to restrain it, seized the reins and when the precipice was reached took care that robespierre should be hurled over it. many allegations against robespierre have been disproved he tried to save danton and camille desmoulins, and did save seventy-three deputies whose death the potentates of the committee of public safety had planned. but against him still lies that terrible sentence found in his note book, and reported by a committee to the convention: "demand that thomas payne be decreed of accusation for the interests of america as much as of france."* * "demander que thomas payne soit décrété d'accusation pour les intérets de l'amérique autant que de la france." the committee on robespierre's papers, and especially courtois its chairman, suppressed some things favorable to him (published long after), and it can never be known whether they found anything further about paine. they made a strong point of the sentence found, and added: "why thomas payne more than another? because he helped to establish the liberty of both worlds." an essay by paine on robespierre has been lost, and his opinion of the man can be gathered only from occasional remarks. after the courtois report he had to accept the theory of robespierre's malevolence and hypocrisy. he then, for the first time, suspected the same hand in a previous act of hostility towards him. in august, , an address had been sent to the convention from arras, a town in his constituency, saying that they had lost confidence in paine. this failed of success because a counter-address came from st. omer. robespierre being a native of arras, it now seemed clear that he had instigated the address. it was, however, almost certainly the work of joseph le-bon, who, as paine once wrote, "made the streets of arras run with blood" lebon was his _suppléant_, and could not sit in the convention until paine left it. but although paine would appear to have ascribed his misfortunes to robespierre at the time, he was evidently mystified by the whole thing. no word against him had ever fallen from robespierre's lips, and if that leader had been hostile to him why should he have excepted him from the accusations of his associates, have consulted him through the summer, and even after imprisonment, kept him unharmed for months? there is a notable sentence in paine's letter (from prison) to monroe, elsewhere considered, showing that while there he had connected his trouble rather with the committee of public safety than with robespierre. "however discordant the late american minister gouvernoeur morris, and the late french committee of public safety, were, it suited the purposes of both that i should be continued in arrestation. the former wished to prevent my return to america, that i should not expose his misconduct; and the latter lest i should publish to the world the history of its wickedness. whilst that minister and that committee continued, i had no expectation of liberty. i speak here of the committee of which robespierre was a member." paine wrote this letter on september , . robespierre, three months before that, had ceased to attend the committee, disavowing responsibility for its actions: paine was not released. robespierre, when the letter to monroe was written, had been dead more than six months: paine was not released the prisoner had therefore good reason to look behind robespierre for his enemies; and although the fatal sentence found in the note book, and a private assurance of barrère, caused him to ascribe his wrongs to robespierre, farther reflection convinced him that hands more hidden had also been at work. he knew that robespierre was a man of measured words, and pondered the sentence that he should "be decreed of accusation for the interests of america as much as of france." in a letter written in , paine said: "there must have been a coalition in sentiment, if not in fact, between the terrorists of america and the terrorists of france, and robespierre must have known it, or he could not have had the idea of putting america into the bill of accusation against me." robespierre, he remarks, assigned no reason for his imprisonment. the secret for which paine groped has remained hidden for a hundred years. it is painful to reveal it now, but historic justice, not only to the memory of paine, but to that of some eminent contemporaries of his, demands that the facts be brought to light. the appointment of gouverneur morris to be minister to france, in , passed the senate by to votes. the president did not fail to advise him of this reluctance, and admonish him to be more cautious in his conduct. in the same year paine took his seat in the convention. thus the royalist and republican tendencies, whose struggles made chronic war in washington's cabinet, had their counterpart in paris, where our minister morris wrote royalist, and paine republican, manifestoes. it will have been seen, by quotations from his diary already given, that gouverneur morris harbored a secret hostility towards paine; and it is here assumed that those entries and incidents are borne in mind. the diary shows an appearance of friendly terms between the two; morris dines paine and receives information from him. the royalism of morris and humanity of paine brought them into a common desire to save the life of louis. but about the same time the american minister's own position became a subject of anxiety to him. he informs washington (december , ) that genet's appointment as minister to the united states had not been announced to him (morris). "perhaps the ministry think it is a trait of republicanism to omit those forms which were anciently used to express good will." his disposition towards paine was not improved by finding that it was to him genêt had reported. "i have not yet seen m. genêt," writes morris again, "but mr. paine is to introduce him to me." soon after this morris became aware that the french ministry had asked his recall, and had paine also known this the event might have been different the minister's suspicion that paine had instigated the recall gave deadliness to his resentment when the inevitable break came between them. the occasion of this arose early in the spring. when war had broken out between england and france, morris, whose sympathies were with england, was eager to rid america of its treaty obligations to france. he so wrote repeatedly to jefferson, secretary of state. an opportunity presently occurred for acting on this idea. in reprisal for the seizure by british cruisers of american ships conveying provisions to france, french cruisers were ordered to do the like, and there were presently ninety-two captured american vessels at bordeaux. they were not allowed to reload and go to sea lest their cargoes should be captured by england. morris pointed out to the french government this violation of the treaty with america, but wrote to jefferson that he would leave it to them in philadelphia to insist on the treaty's observance, or to accept the "unfettered" condition in which its violation by france left them. consultation with philadelphia was a slow business, however, and the troubles of the american vessels were urgent the captains, not suspecting that the american minister was satisfied with the treaty's violation, were angry at his indifference about their relief, and applied to paine. unable to move morris, paine asked him "if he did not feel ashamed to take the money of the country and do nothing for it" it was, of course, a part of morris' scheme for ending the treaty to point out its violation and the hardships resulting, and this he did; but it would defeat his scheme to obtain the practical relief from those hardships which the un-theoretical captains demanded. on august th, the captains were angrily repulsed by the american minister, who, however, after they had gone, must have reflected that he had gone too far, and was in an untenable position; for on the same day he wrote to the french minister a statement of the complaint. "i do not [he adds] pretend to interfere in the internal concerns of the french republic, and i am persuaded that the convention has had weighty reasons for laying upon americans the restriction of which the american captains complain. the result will nevertheless be that this prohibition will severely aggrieve the parties interested, and put an end to the commerce between france and the united states." the note is half-hearted, but had the captains known it was written they might have been more patient morris owed his subsequent humiliation partly to his bad manners. the captains went off to paine, and proposed to draw up a public protest against the american minister. paine advised against this, and recommended a petition to the convention. this was offered on august d. in this the captains said: "we, who know your political situation, do not come to you to demand the rigorous execution of the treaties of alliance which unite us to you. we confine ourselves to asking for the present, to carry provisions to your colonies." to this the convention promptly and favorably responded. it was a double humiliation to morris that the first important benefit gained by americans since his appointment should be secured without his help, and that it should come through paine. and it was a damaging blow to his scheme of transferring to england our alliance with france. a "violation" of the treaty excused by the only sufferers could not be cited as "releasing" the united states. a cruel circumstance for morris was that the french minister wrote (october th): "you must be satisfied, sir, with the manner in which the request presented by the american captains from bordeaux, has been received"--and so forth. four days before, morris had written to jefferson, speaking of the thing as mere "mischief," and belittling the success, which "only served an ambition so contemptible that i shall draw over it the veil of oblivion." the "contemptible ambition" thus veiled from paine's friend, jefferson, was revealed by morris to others. some time before (june th), he had written to robert morris: "i suspected that paine was intriguing against me, although he put on a face of attachment. since that period i am confirmed in the idea, for he came to my house with col. oswald, and being a little more drunk than usual, behaved extremely ill, and through his insolence i discovered clearly his vain ambition." this was probably written after paine's rebuke already quoted. it is not likely that colonel oswald would have taken a tipsy man eight leagues out to morris' retreat, sainport, on business, or that the tipsy man would remember the words of his rebuke two years after, when paine records them in his letter to washington. at any rate, if morris saw no deeper into paine's physical than into his mental condition, the "insolent" words were those of soberness. for paine's private letters prove him ignorant of any intrigue against morris, and under an impression that the minister had himself asked for recall; also that, instead of being ambitious to succeed morris, he was eager to get out of france and back to america. the first expression of french dissatisfaction with morris had been made through de ternant, (february th, ,) whom he had himself been the means of sending as minister to the united states. the positive recall was made through genêt.* * on september i, , morris answered a request of the executive of the republic that he could not comply until he had received "orders from his court," (les ordres de ma cour). the representatives of the new-born republic were scandalized by such an expression from an american minister, and also by his intimacy with lord and lady gower. they may have suspected what morris' "diary" now suggests, that he (morris) owed his appointment to this english ambassador and his wife. on august , , lord gower was recalled, in hostility to the republic, but during the further weeks of his stay in paris the american minister frequented their house. from the recall morris was saved for a year by the intervention of edmund randolph. (see my "omitted chapters of history," etc, p. .) randolph met with a morrisian reward. morris ("diary," ii., p. ) records an accusation of randolph, to which he listened in the office of lord grenville, secretary of! state, which plainly meant his (randolph's) ruin, which followed. he i knew it to be untrue, but no defence is mentioned. it would appear that morris must have had sore need of a scapegoat to fix on poor paine, when his intrigues with the king's agents, his trust of the king's money, his plot for a second attempt of the king to escape, his concealment of royalist leaders in his house, had been his main ministerial performances for some time after his appointment. had the french known half as much as is now revealed in morris' diary, not even his office could have shielded him from arrest. that the executive there knew much of it, appears in the revolutionary archives. there is reason to believe that paine, instead of intriguing against morris, had, in ignorance of his intrigues, brought suspicion on himself by continuing his intercourse with the minister. the following letter of paine to barrère, chief committeeman of public safety, dated september th, shows him protecting morris while he is trying to do something for the american captains. "i send you the papers you asked me for. "the idea you have to send commissioners to congress, and of which you spoke to me yesterday, is excellent, and very necessary at this moment. mr. jefferson, formerly minister of the united states in france, and actually minister for foreign affairs at congress, is an ardent defender of the interests of france. gouverneur morris, who is here now, is badly disposed towards you. i believe he has expressed the wish to be recalled. the reports which he will make on his arrival will not be to the advantage of france. this event necessitates the sending direct of commissioners from the convention. morris is not popular in america. he has set the americans who are here against him, as also the captains of that nation who have come from bordeaux, by his negligence with regard to the affair they had to treat about with the convention. _between us_ [sic] he told them: 'that they had thrown themselves into the lion's mouth, and it was for them to get out of it as best they could.' i shall return to america on one of the vessels which will start from bordeaux in the month of october. this was the project i had formed, should the rupture not take place between america and england; but now it is necessary for me to be there as soon as possible. the congress will require a great deal of information, independently of this. it will soon be seven years that i have been absent from america, and my affairs in that country have suffered considerably through my absence. my house and farm buildings have been entirely destroyed through an accidental fire. "morris has many relations in america, who are excellent patriots. i enclose you a letter which i received from his brother, general louis morris, who was a member of the congress at the time of the declaration of independence. you will see by it that he writes like a good patriot. i only mention this so that you may know the true state of things. it will be fit to have respect for gouverneur morris, on account of his relations, who, as i said above, are excellent patriots. "there are about american vessels at bordeaux, at the present moment. if the english government wished to take revenge on the americans, these vessels would be very much exposed during their passage. the american captains left paris yesterday. i advised them, on leaving, to demand a convoy of the convention, in case they heard it said that the english had begun reprisals against the americans, if only to conduct as far as the bay of biscay, at the expense of the american government. but if the convention determines to send commissioners to congress, they will be sent in a ship of the line. but it would be better for the commissioners to go in one of the best american sailing vessels, and for the ship of the line to serve as a convoy; it could also serve to convoy the ships that will return to france charged with flour. i am sorry that we cannot converse together, but if you could give me a rendezvous, where i could see mr. otto, i shall be happy and ready to be there. if events force the american captains to demand a convoy, it will be to me that they will write on the subject, and not to morris, against whom they have grave reasons of complaint your friend, etc. thomas paine."* * state archives, paris. États unis, vol. , no. . endorsed: "no. . translation of a letter from thomas payne to citizen barrère." it may be noted that paine and barrère, though they could read each other's language, could converse only in their own tongue. this is the only letter written by paine to any one in france about gouverneur morris, so far as i can discover, and not knowing french he could only communicate in writing. the american archives are equally without anything to justify the minister's suspicion that paine was intriguing against him, even after his outrageous conduct about the captains. morris had laid aside the functions of a minister to exercise those of a treaty-making government. during this excursion into presidential and senatorial power, for the injury of the country to which he was commissioned, his own countrymen in france were without an official minister, and in their distress imposed ministerial duties on paine. but so far from wishing to supersede morris, paine, in the above letter to barrère, gives an argument for his retention, namely, that if he goes home he will make reports disadvantageous to france. he also asks respect for morris on account of his relations, "excellent patriots." barrère, to whom paine's letter is written, was chief of the committee of public safety, and had held that powerful position since its establishment, april , . to this all-powerful committee of nine robespierre was added july th. on the day that paine wrote the letter, september th, barrère opened the terror by presenting a report in which it is said, "let us make terror the order of the day!" this barrère was a sensualist, a crafty orator, a sort of eel which in danger turned into a snake. his "supple genius," as louis blanc expresses it, was probably appreciated by morris, who was kept well informed as to the secrets of the committee of public safety. this omnipotent committee had supervision of foreign affairs and appointments. at this time the minister of foreign affairs was deforgues, whose secretary was the m. otto alluded to in paine's letter to barrère. otto spoke english fluently; he had been in the american legation. deforgues became minister june th, on the arrest of his predecessor (lebrun), and was anxious lest he should follow lebrun to prison also,--as he ultimately did. deforgues and his secretary, otto, confided to morris their strong desire to be appointed to america, genêt having been recalled.* despite the fact that morris' hostility to france was well known, he had become an object of awe. so long as his removal was daily expected in reply to a request twice sent for his recall, morris was weak, and even insulted. but when ship after ship came in without such recall, and at length even with the news that the president had refused the senate's demand for morris' entire correspondence, everything was changed.** * morris' letter to washington, oct. , . the passage is omitted from the letter as quoted in his "diary and letters" ii., p. . ** see my "life of edmund randolph," p. . "so long," writes morris to washington, "as they believed in the success of their demand, they treated my representations with indifference and contempt; but at last, hearing nothing from their minister on that subject, or, indeed, on any other, they took it into their heads that i was immovable, and made overtures for conciliation." it must be borne in mind that at this time america was the only ally of france; that already there were fears that washington was feeling his way towards a treaty with england. soon after the overthrow of the monarchy morris had hinted that the treaty between the united states and france, having been made with the king, might be represented by the english ministry in america as void under the revolution; and that "it would be well to evince a degree of good will to america." when robespierre first became a leader he had particular charge of diplomatic affairs. it is stated by frédéric masson that robespierre was very anxious to recover for the republic the initiative of the alliance with the united states, which was credited to the king; and "although their minister gouverneur morris was justly suspected, and the american republic was at that time aiming only to utilize the condition of its ally, the french republic cleared it at a cheap rate of its debts contracted with the king."* * "le département des affaires Étrangères pendant la révolution," p- . such were the circumstances which, when washington seemed determined to force morris on france, made this minister a power. lebrun, the ministerial predecessor of deforgues, may indeed have been immolated to placate morris, who having been, under his administration, subjected to a domiciliary visit, had gone to reside in the country. that was when morris' removal was supposed near; but now his turn came for a little reign of terror on his own account in addition to deforgues' fear of lebrun's fate, should he anger washington's immovable representative, he knew that his hope of succeeding genêt in america must depend on morris. the terrors and schemes of deforgues and otto brought them to the feet of morris. about the time when the chief of the committee of public safety, barrère, was consulting paine about sending commissioners to america, deforgues was consulting morris on the same point. the interview was held shortly after the humiliation which morris had suffered, in the matter of the captains, and the defeat of his scheme for utilizing their grievance to release the united states from their alliance. the american captains had appointed paine their minister, and he had been successful. paine and his clients had not stood in awe of morris; but he now had the strength of a giant, and proceeded to use it like a giant. the interview with deforgues was not reported by morris to the secretary of state (paine's friend, jefferson), but in a confidential letter to washington,--so far as was prudent. "i have insinuated [he writes] the advantages which might result from an early declaration on the part of the new minister that, as france has announced the determination not to meddle with the interior affairs of other nations, he can know only the _government_ of america. in union with this idea, i told the minister that i had observed an overruling influence in their affairs which seemed to come from the other side of the channel, and at the same time had traced the intention to excite a seditious spirit in america; that it was impossible to be on a friendly footing with such persons, but that at present a different spirit seemed to prevail, etc. this declaration produced the effect i intended."* * letter to washington, oct. , . in thus requiring that the new minister to america shall recognize only the "government" (and not negotiate with kentucky, as genêt had done), notice is also served on deforgues that the convention must in future deal only with the american minister, and not with paine or sea-captains in matters affecting his countrymen. the reference to an influence from the other side of the channel could only refer to paine, as there were then no englishmen in paris outside his garden in the faubourg st. denis. by this ingenious phrase morris already disclaims jurisdiction over paine, and suggests that he is an englishman worrying washington through genêt this was a clever hint in another way. genêt, now recalled, evidently for the guillotine, had been introduced to morris by paine, who no doubt had given him letters to eminent americans. paine had sympathized warmly with the project of the kentuckians to expel the spanish from the mississippi, and this was patriotic american doctrine even after kentucky was admitted into the union (june , ). he had corresponded with dr. o'fallon, a leading kentuckian on the subject but things had changed, and when genêt went out with his blank commissions he found himself confronted with a proclamation of neutrality which turned his use of them to sedition. paine's acquaintance with genêt, and his introductions, could now be plausibly used by morris to involve him. the french minister is shown an easy way of relieving his country from responsibility for genêt, by placing it on the deputy from "the other side of the channel." "this declaration produced the effect i intended," wrote morris. the effect was indeed swift on october d, amar, after the doors of the convention were locked, read the memorable accusation against the girondins, four weeks before their execution. in that paper he denounced brissot for his effort to save the king, for his intimacy with the english, for injuring the colonies by his labors for negro emancipation! in this denunciation paine had the honor to be included. "at that same time the englishman thomas paine, called by the faction [girondin] to the honor of representing the french nation, dishonored himself by supporting the opinion of brissot, and by promising us in his fable the dissatisfaction of the united states of america, our natural allies, which he did not blush to depict for us as full of veneration and gratitude for the tyrant of france." on october th the minister of foreign affairs, deforgues, writes to morris: "i shall give the council an account of the punishable conduct of their agent in the united states [genêt], and i can assure you beforehand that they will regard the strange abuse of their confidence by this agent, as i do, with the liveliest indignation. the president of the united states has done justice to our sentiments in attributing the deviations of the citizen genêt to causes entirely foreign to his instructions, and we hope that the measures to be taken will more and more convince the head and members of your government that so far from having authorized the proceedings and man�uvres of citizen genêt our only aim has been to maintain between the two nations the most perfect harmony." one of "the measures to be taken" was the imprisonment of paine, for which amar's denunciation had prepared the way. but this was not so easy. for robespierre had successfully attacked amar's report for extending its accusations beyond the girondins. how then could an accusation be made against paine, against whom no charge could be brought, except that he had introduced a french minister to his friends in america! a deputy must be formally accused by the convention before he could be tried by the revolutionary tribunal. an indirect route must be taken to reach the deputy secretly accused by the american minister, and the latter had pointed it out by alluding to paine as an influence "from across the channel." there was a law passed in june for the imprisonment of foreigners belonging to countries at war with france. this was administered by the committees. paine had not been liable to this law, being a deputy, and never suspected of citizenship in the country which had outlawed him, until morris suggested it. could he be got out of the convention the law might be applied to him without necessitating any public accusation and trial, or anything more than an announcement to the deputies. such was the course pursued. christmas day was celebrated by the terrorist bourdon de l'oise with a denunciation of paine: "they have boasted the patriotism of thomas paine. _eh bien!_ since the brissotins disappeared from the bosom of this convention he has not set foot in it. and i know that he has intrigued with a former agent of the bureau of foreign affairs." this accusation could only have come from the american minister and the minister of foreign affairs--from gouverneur morris and deforgues. genêt was the only agent of deforgues' office with whom paine could possibly have been connected; and what that connection was the reader knows. that accusation is associated with the terrorist's charge that paine had declined to unite with the murderous decrees of the convention. after the speech of bourdon de l'oise, bentabole moved the "exclusion of foreigners from every public function during the war." bentabole was a leading member of the committee of general surety. "the assembly," adds _the moniteur_, "decreed that no foreigner should be admitted to represent the french people." the committee of general surety assumed the right to regard paine as an englishman; and as such out of the convention, and consequently under the law of june against aliens of hostile nations. he was arrested next day, and on december th committed to the luxembourg prison. chapter vi. a testimony under the guillotine while paine was in prison the english gentry were gladdened by a rumor that he had been guillotined, and a libellous leaflet of "the last dying words of thomas paine" appeared in london. paine was no less confident than his enemies that his execution was certain--after the denunciation in amar's report, october d--and did indeed utter what may be regarded as his dying words--"the age of reason." this was the task which he had from year to year adjourned to his maturest powers, and to it he dedicates what brief remnant of life may await him. that completed, it will be time to die with his comrades, awakened by his pen to a dawn now red with their blood. the last letter i find written from the old pompadour mansion is to jefferson, under date of october th: "dear sir,--i wrote you by captain dominick who was to sail from havre about the th of this month. this will probably be brought you by mr. barlow or col. oswald. since my letter by dominick i am every day more convinced and impressed with the propriety of congress sending commissioners to europe to confer with the ministers of the jesuitical powers on the means of terminating the war. the enclosed printed paper will shew there are a variety of subjects to be taken into consideration which did not appear at first, all of which have some tendency to put an end to the war. i see not how this war is to terminate if some intermediate power does not step forward. there is now no prospect that france can carry revolutions thro' europe on the one hand, or that the combined powers can conquer france on the other hand. it is a sort of defensive war on both sides. this being the case how is the war to close? neither side will ask for peace though each may wish it. i believe that england and holland are tired of the war. their commerce and manufactures have suffered most exceedingly--and besides this it is to them a war without an object. russia keeps her-self at a distance. i cannot help repeating my wish that congress would send commissioners, and i wish also that yourself would venture once more across the ocean as one of them. if the commissioners rendezvous at holland they would then know what steps to take. they could call mr. pinckney to their councils, and it would be of use, on many accounts, that one of them should come over from holland to france. perhaps a long truce, were it proposed by the neutral powers, would have all the effects of a peace, without the difficulties attending the adjustment of all the forms of peace.--yours affectionately thomas paine." * i am indebted for this letter to dr. john s. h. fogg, of boston. the letter is endorsed by jefferson, "rec'd mar. ." ( .) thus has finally faded the dream of paine's life--an international republic. it is notable that in this letter paine makes no mention of his own danger. he may have done so in the previous letter, unfound, to which he alludes. why he made no attempt to escape after amar's report seems a mystery, especially as he was assisting others to leave the country. two of his friends, johnson and choppin--the last to part from him in the old garden,--escaped to switzerland. johnson will be remembered as the young man who attempted suicide on hearing of marat's menaces against paine. writing to lady smith of these two friends, he says: "he [johnson] recovered, and being anxious to get out of france, a passport was obtained for him and mr. choppin; they received it late in the evening, and set off the next morning for basle, before four, from which place i had a letter from them, highly pleased with their escape from france, into which they had entered with an enthusiasm of patriotic devotion. ah, france! thou hast ruined the character of a revolution virtuously begun, and destroyed those who produced it. i might also say like job's servant, 'and i only am escaped.' "two days after they were gone i heard a rapping at the gate, and looking out of the window of the bedroom i saw the landlord going with the candle to the gate, which he opened; and a guard with muskets and fixed bayonets entered. i went to bed again and made up my mind for prison, for i was the only lodger. it was a guard to take up johnson and choppin, but, i thank god, they were out of their reach. "the guard came about a month after, in the night, and took away the landlord, george. and the scene in the house finished with the arrestation of myself. this was soon after you called on me, and sorry i was that it was not in my power to render to sir [robert smith] the service that you asked." all then had fled. even the old landlord had been arrested. in the wintry garden this lone man--in whose brain and heart the republic and the religion of humanity have their abode--moves companionless. in the great mansion, where once madame de pompadour glittered amid her courtiers, where in the past summer gathered the round table of great-hearted gentlemen and ladies. thomas paine sits through the watches of the night at his devout task.* "my friends were falling as fast as the guillotine could cut their heads off, and as i expected, every day, the same fate, i resolved to begin my work. i appeared to myself to be on my death bed, for death was on every side of me, and i had no time to lose. this accounts for my writing at the time i did, and so nicely did the time and intention meet, that i had not finished the first part of the work more than six hours before i was arrested and taken to prison. the people of france were running headlong into atheism, and i had the work translated in their own language, to stop them in that career, and fix them to the first article of every man's creed, who has any creed at all--_i believe in god_."** * it was a resumed task. early in the year paine had brought to his colleague lanthenas a manuscript on religion, probably entitled "the age of reason." lanthenas translated it, and had it printed in french, though no trace of its circulation appears. at that time lanthenas may have apprehended blood about to be shed, the tribute to one that was pierced in trying to benefit mankind. ** letter to samuel adams. the execution of the girondins took place on october st. the second christmas of the new republican era dawns. where is the vision that has led this wayworn pilgrim? where the star he has followed so long, to find it hovering over the new birth of humanity? it may have been on that day that, amid the shades of his slain friends, he wrote, as with the proscription which fell on him, with the other girondins, in may, and took the precaution to show paine's essay to couthon, who, with robespierre, had religious matters particularly in charge. couthon frowned on the work and on paine, and reproached lanthenas for translating it. there was no frown more formidable than that of couthon, and the essay (printed only in french) seems to have been suppressed. at the close of the year paine wrote the whole work _de novo_. the first edition in english, now before me, was printed in paris, by barrois, . in his preface to part ii., paine implies a previous draft in saying: "i had not finished it more than six hours, _in the state it has since appeared_, before a guard came," etc (the italics are mine.) the fact of the early translation appears in a letter of lanthenas to merlin de thionville. "nothing that is here said can apply, even with the most distant disrespect, to the real character of jesus christ. he was a virtuous and amiable man. the morality that he preached and practised was of the most benevolent kind; and though similar systems of morality had been preached by confucius, and by some of the greek philosophers, many years before, by the quakers since, and by good men in all ages, it has not been exceeded by any.... he preached most excellent morality, and the equality of man; but he preached also against the corruption and avarice of the jewish priests, and this brought upon him the hatred and vengeance of the whole order of priesthood. the accusation which those priests brought against him was that of sedition and conspiracy against the roman government, to which the jews were then subject and tributary; and it is not improbable that the roman government might have some secret apprehension of the effect of his doctrine, as well as the jewish priests; neither is it improbable that jesus christ had in contemplation the delivery of the jewish nation from the bondage of the romans. between the two, however, this virtuous reformer and religionist lost his life.... he was the son of god in like manner that every other person is--for the creator is the father of all.... jesus christ founded no new system. he called men to the practice of moral virtues, and the belief of one god. the great trait in his character is philanthropy." many christmas sermons were preached in , but probably all of them together do not contain so much recognition of the humanity of jesus as these paragraphs of paine. the christmas bells ring in the false, but shall also ring in the true. while he is writing, on that christmas night, word comes that he has been denounced by bourdon de l'oise, and expelled from the convention. he now enters the dark valley. "conceiving, after this, that i had but a few days of liberty i sat down, and brought the work to a close as speedily as possible." in the "age of reason" there is a page of personal recollections. i have a feeling that this little episode marks the hour when paine was told of his doom. from this overshadowed christmas, likely to be his last, the lonely heart--as loving a heart as ever beat--here wanders across tempestuous years to his early home in norfolk. there is a grateful remembrance of the quaker meeting, the parental care, the grammar school; of his pious aunt who read him a printed sermon, and the garden steps where he pondered what he had just heard,--a father demanding his son's death for the sake of making mankind happier and better. he "perfectly recollects the spot" in the garden where, even then, but seven or eight years of age, he felt sure a man would be executed for doing such a thing, and that god was too good to act in that way. so clearly come out the scenes of childhood under the shadow of death. he probably had an intimation on december th that he would be arrested that night. the place of his abode, though well known to the authorities, was not in the convention's almanack. officially, therefore, his residence was still in the passage des petits pères. there the officers would seek him, and there he should be found. "for that night only he sought a lodging there," reported the officers afterwards. he may have feared, too, that his manuscript would be destroyed if he were taken in his residence. his hours are here traceable. on the evening of december th, in the old mansion, paine reaches the last page of the "age of reason." they who have supposed him an atheist, may search as far as job, who said "though he slay me i will trust in him," before finding an author who, caught in the cruel machinery of destructive nature, could write that last page. "the creation we behold is the real and ever existing word of god, in which we cannot be deceived. it proclaim-eth his power, it demonstrates his wisdom, it manifests his goodness and beneficence. the moral duty of man consists in imitating the moral goodness and beneficence of god manifested in the creation towards all his creatures. that seeing, as we daily do, the goodness of god to all men, it is an example calling upon all men to practise the same towards each other, and consequently that everything of persecution and revenge between man and man, and everything of cruelty to animals, is a violation of moral duty." in what "israel" is greater faith found? having written these words, the pen drops from our world-wanderer's hand. it is nine o'clock of the night. he will now go and bend his neck under the decree of the convention--provided by "the goodness of god to all men." through the faubourg, past porte st. martin, to the rue richelieu, to the passage des petits pères, he walks in the wintry night. in the house where he wrote his appeal that the convention would slay not the man in destroying the monarch, he asks a lodging "for that night only." as he lays his head on the pillow, it is no doubt with a grateful feeling that the good god has prolonged his freedom long enough to finish a defence of true religion from its degradation by superstition or destruction by atheism,--these, as he declares, being the two purposes of his work. it was providently if not providentially timed. "i had not finished it more than six hours, in the state it has since appeared, before a guard came, about three in the morning, with an order, signed by the two committees of public safety and surety general, for putting me in arrestation as a foreigner, and conveying me to the prison of the luxembourg." the following documents are translated for this work from the originals in the national archives of france. "national convention. "committee of general surety and surveillance of the national convention. "on the th nivose [december th] of the ad year of the french republic, one and indivisible. "to the deputies: "the committee resolves, that the persons named thomas paine and anacharsis clootz, formerly deputies to the national convention, be arrested and imprisoned, as a measure of general surety; that an examination be made of their papers, and those found suspicious put under seal and brought to the committee of general surety. "citizens jean baptiste martin and lamy, bearers of the present decree are empowered to execute it,--for which they ask the help of the civil authorities and, if need be, of the army. "the representatives of the nation, members of the committee of general surety--signed: m. bayle, voulland, jagot, amar, vadier, Élie lacoste, guffroy, louis (du bas rhin) la vicomterie, panis." "this day, the th nivose of the d year of the french republic, one and indivisible, to execute and fulfil the order given us, we have gone to the residence of citizen thomas paine, passage des petits pères, number seven, philadelphia house. having requested the commander of the [police] post, william tell section, to have us escorted, according to the order we showed him, he obeyed by assigning us four privates and a corporal, to search the above-said lodging; where we requested the porter to open the door, and asked him whether he knew all who lodged there; and as he did not affirm it, we desired him to take us to the principal agent, which he did; having come to the said agent, we asked him if he knew by name all the persons to whom he rented lodgings; after having repeated to him the name mentioned in our order, he replied to us, that he had come to ask him a lodging for that night only; which being ascertained, we asked him to conduct us to the bedroom of citizen thomas paine, where we arrived; then seeing we could not be understood by him, an american, we begged the manager of the house, who knows his language, to kindly interpret for him, giving him notice of the order of which we were bearers; whereupon the said citizen thomas paine submitted to be taken to rue jacob, great britain hotel, which he declared through his interpreter to be the place where he had his papers; having recognized that his lodging contained none of them, we accompanied the said thomas paine and his interpreter to great britain hotel, rue jacob, unity section; the present minutes closed, after being read before the undersigned. "(signed): thomas paine. j. b. martin. dorlé, commissary. gillet, commissary. f. dellanay. achille audibert, witness.* lamy." * it will be remembered that audibert had carried to london paine's invitation to the convention. "and as it was about seven or eight o'clock in the morning of this day th nivose, being worn out with fatigue, and forced to take some food, we postponed the end of our proceeding till eleven o'clock of the same day, when, desiring to finish it, we went with citizen thomas paine to britain house, where we found citizen barlow, whom citizen thomas paine informed that we, the commissaries, were come to look into the papers, which he said were at his house, as announced in our preceding paragraph through citizen dellanay, his interpreter; we, commissary of the section of the unity, undersigned, with the citizens order-bearers, requested citizen barlow to declare whether there were in his house, any papers or correspondence belonging to citizen thomas paine; on which, complying with our request, he declared there did not exist any; but wishing to leave no doubt on our way of conducting the matter, we did not think it right to rely on what he said; resolving, on the contrary, to ascertain by all legal ways that there did not exist any, we requested citizen barlow to open for us all his cupboards; which he did, and after having visited them, we, the abovesaid commissary, always in the presence of citizen thomas paine, recognized that there existed no papers belonging to him; we also perceived that it was a subterfuge on the part of citizen thomas paine who wished only to transfer himself to the house of citizen barlow, his native friend (_son ami natal_) whom we invited to ask of citizen thomas paine his usual place of abode; and the latter seemed to wish that his friend might accompany him and be present at the examination of his papers. which we, the said commissary granted him, as citizen barlow could be of help to us, together with citizen etienne thomas dessous, interpreter for the english language, and deputy secretary to the committee of general surety of the national convention, whom we called, in passing by the said committee, to accompany us to the true lodging of the said paine, faubourg du nord, nro. . at which place we entered his rooms, and gathered in the sitting-room all the papers found in the other rooms of the said apartment. the said sitting-room receives light from three windows, looking, one on the garden and the two others on the courtyard; and after the most scrupulous examination of all the papers, that we had there gathered, none of them has been found suspicious, neither in french nor in english, according to what was affirmed to us by citizen dessous our interpreter who signed with us, and citizen thomas paine; and we, the undersigned commissary, resolved that no seal should be placed, after the examination mentioned, and closed the said minutes, which we declare to contain the truth. drawn up at the residence, and closed at p.m. in the day and year abovenamed; and we have all signed after having read the minutes. "(signed): thomas paine. joel barlow. dorlé, commissary. gillet, commissary. dessous. j. b. martin. lamy. "and after having signed we have requested, according to the order of the committee of general surety of the national convention, citizen thomas paine to follow us, to be led to jail; to which he complied without any difficulty, and he has signed with us: thomas paine. j. b. martin. dorlé, commissary. lamy. gillett, commissary." "i have received from the citizens martin and lamy, deputy-secretaries to the committee of general surety of the national convention, the citizens thomas paine and ana-charsis clootz, formerly deputies; by order of the said committee. "at the luxembourg, this day th nivose, nd year of the french republic, one and indivisible. "signed: benoit, concierge." { } "foreign office--received the th ventose [march d]. sent to the committees of general surety and public safety the th pluviôse [january th] this d year of the french republic, one and indivisible. "signed: bassol, secretary." "citizens legislators!--the french nation has, by a universal decree, invited to france one of our countrymen, most worthy of honor, namely, thomas paine, one of the political founders of the independence and of the republic of america. "our experience of twenty years has taught america to know and esteem his public virtues and the invaluable services he rendered her. "persuaded that his character of foreigner and ex-deputy is the only cause of his provisional imprisonment, we come in the name of our country (and we feel sure she will be grateful to us for it), we come to you, legislators, to reclaim our friend, our countryman, that he may sail with us for america, where he will be received with open arms. "if it were necessary to say more in support of the petition which, as friends and allies of the french republic, we submit to her representatives, to obtain the liberation of one of the most earnest and faithful apostles of liberty, we would beseech the national convention, for the sake of all that is dear to the glory and to the heart of freemen, not to give a cause of joy and triumph to the allied tyrants of europe, and above all to the despotism of great britain, which did not blush to outlaw this courageous and virtuous defender of liberty. "but their insolent joy will be of short duration; for we have the intimate persuasion that you will not keep longer in the bonds of painful captivity the man whose courageous and energetic pen did so much to free the americans, and whose intentions we have no doubt whatever were to render the same services to the french republic. yes, we feel convinced that his principles and views were pure, and in that regard he is entitled to the indulgence due to human fallibility, and to the respect due to rectitude of heart; and we hold all the more firmly our opinion of his innocence, inasmuch as we are informed that after a scrupulous examination of his papers, made by order of the committee of general surety, instead of anything to his charge, enough has been found rather to corroborate the purity of his principles in politics and morals. "as a countryman of ours, as a man above all so dear to the americans, who like yourselves are earnest friends of liberty, we ask you, in the name of that goddess cherished of the only two republics of the world, to give back thomas paine to his brethren and permit us to take him to his country which is also ours. "if you require it, citizens representatives, we shall make ourselves warrant and security for his conduct in france during the short stay he may make in this land. "signed: w. jackson, of philadelphia. j. russell, of boston. peter whiteside, of philadelphia. henry johnson, of boston. thomas carter, of newbury port. james cooper of philadelphia. john willert billopp, of new york. thomas waters griffith, of baltimore. th. ramsden, of boston. samuel p. broome, of new york. a. meadenworth, of connecticut. joel barlow, of connecticut. michael alcorn, of philadelphia. m. onealy, of baltimore. john mcpherson, of alexandria [va.]. william haskins, of boston. j. gregory, of petersburg, virginia. james ingraham, of boston."' the following answer to the petitioning americans was given by vadier, then president of the convention. "citizens: the brave americans are our brothers in liberty; like us they have broken the chains of despotism; like us they have sworn the destruction of kings and vowed an eternal hatred to tyrants and their instruments. from this identity of principles should result a union of the two nations forever unalterable. if the tree of liberty already flourishes in the two hemispheres, that of commerce should, by this happy alliance, cover the poles with its fruitful branches. it is for france, it is for the united states, to combat and lay low, in concert, these proud islanders, these insolent dominators of the sea and the commerce of nations. when the sceptre of despotism is falling from the criminal hand of the tyrants of the earth, it is necessary also to break the trident which emboldens the insolence of these corsairs of albion, these modern carthaginians. it is time to repress the audacity and mercantile avarice of these pirate tyrants of the sea, and of the commerce of nations. "you demand of us, citizens, the liberty of thomas paine; you wish to restore to your hearths this defender of the rights of man. one can only applaud this generous movement. thomas paine is a native of england; this is undoubtedly enough to apply to him the measures of security prescribed by the revolutionary laws. it may be added, citizens, that if thomas paine has been the apostle of liberty, if he has powerfully co-operated with the american revolution, his genius has not understood that which has regenerated france; he has regarded the system only in accordance with the illusions with which the false friends of our revolution have invested it. you must with us deplore an error little reconcilable with the principles admired in the justly esteemed works of this republican author. * the preceding documents connected with the arrest are in the archives nationales. f. . "the national convention will take into consideration the object of your petition, and invites you to its sessions." a memorandum adds: "reference of this petition is decreed to the committees of public safety and general surety, united." it is said that paine sent an appeal for intervention to the cordeliers club, and that their only reply was to return to him a copy of his speech in favor of preserving the life of louis xvi. this i have not been able to verify. on leaving his house for prison, paine entrusted to joel barlow the manuscript of the "age of reason," to be conveyed to the printer. this was with the knowledge of the guard, whose kindness is mentioned by paine. chapter vii. a minister and his prisoner before resuming the history of the conspiracy against paine it is necessary to return a little on our steps. for a year after the fall of monarchy in france (august , ), the real american minister there was paine, whether for americans or for the french executive. the ministry would not confer with a hostile and presumably decapitated agent, like morris. the reader has (chaps. iv. and v., vol. ii.) evidence of their consultations with paine. those communications of paine were utilized in robespierre's report to the convention, november , , on the foreign relations of france. it was inspired by the humiliating tidings that genêt in america had reinforced the european intrigues to detach washington from france. the president had demanded genêt's recall, had issued a proclamation of "impartiality" between france and her foes, and had not yet decided whether the treaty formed with louis xvi. should survive his death. and morris was not recalled! in his report robespierre makes a solemn appeal to the "brave americans." was it "that crowned automaton called louis xvi." who helped to rescue them from the oppressor's yoke, or our arm and armies? was it his money sent over or the taxes of french labor? he declares that the republic has been treacherously compromised in america. "by a strange fatality the republic finds itself still represented among their allies by agents of the traitors she has punished: brissot's brother-in-law is consul-general there; another man, named genêt, sent by lebrun and brissot to philadelphia as plenipotentiary agent, has faithfully fulfilled the views and instructions of the faction that appointed him." the result is that "parallel intrigues" are observable--one aiming to bring france under the league, the other to break up the american republic into parts.* * "hist. pari.," xxx., p. . in this idea of "parallel intrigues" the irremovable morris is discoverable. it is the reappearance of what he had said to deforgues about the simultaneous sedition in america (genet's) and "influence in their affairs from the other side of the channel" (paine's). there was not, however, in robespierre's report any word that might be construed into a suspicion of paine; on the contrary, he declares the convention now pure. the convention instructed the committee of public safety to provide for strictest fulfilment of its treaties with america, and caution to its agents to respect the government and territory of its allies. the first necessary step was to respect the president's minister, gouverneur morris, however odious he might be, since it would be on his representations that the continuance of france's one important alliance might depend. morris played cleverly on that string; he hinted dangers that did not exist, and dangled promises never to be fulfilled. he was master of the situation. the unofficial minister he had practically superseded him for a year was now easily locked up in the luxembourg. but why was not paine executed? the historic paradox must be ventured that he owed his reprieve--his life--to robespierre. robespierre had morris' intercepted letters and other evidences of his treachery, yet as washington insisted on him, and the alliance was at stake, he must be obeyed. on the other hand were evidences of washington's friendship for paine, and of jefferson's intimacy with him. time must therefore be allowed for the prisoner to communicate with the president and secretary of state. they must decide between paine and morris. it was only after ample time had passed, and no word about paine came from washington or jefferson, while morris still held his position, that robespierre entered his memorandum that paine should be tried before the revolutionary tribunal. meanwhile a great deal happened, some of which, as paine's experiences in the luxembourg, must be deferred to a further chapter. the american minister had his triumph. the americans in paris, including the remaining sea-captains, who had been looking to paine as their minister, were now to discover where the power was lodged. knowing morris' hatred for paine, they repaired to the convention with their petition. major jackson, a well known officer of the american revolution, who headed the deputation (which included every unofficial american in paris), utilized a letter of introduction he had brought from secretary jefferson to morris by giving it to the committee of general surety, as an evidence of his right to act in the emergency. action was delayed by excitement over the celebration of the first anniversary of the king's execution. on that occasion (january st) the convention joined the jacobin club in marching to the "place de la révolution," with music and banners; there the portraits of kings were burned, an act of accusation against all the kings of the earth adopted, and a fearfully realistic drama enacted. by a prearrangement unknown to the convention four condemned men were guillotined before them. the convention recoiled, and instituted an inquisition as to the responsibility for this scene. it was credited to the committee of general surety, justly no doubt, but its chief, vadier, managed to relieve it of the odium. this vadier was then president of the convention. he was appropriately selected to give the first anniversary oration on the king's execution. a few days later it fell to vadier to address the eighteen americans at the bar of the convention on their petition for paine's release. the petition and petitioners being referred to the committees of public safety and general surety in joint session, the americans were there answered, by billaud-varennes it was said, "that their reclamation was only the act of individuals, without any authority from the american government." this was a plain direction. the american government, whether in paris or philadelphia, had paine's fate in its hands. at this time it was of course not known that jefferson had retired from the cabinet. to him paine might have written, but--sinister coincidence!--immediately after the committees had referred the matter to the american government an order was issued cutting off all communication between prisoners and the outside world. that morris had something to do with this is suggested by the fact that he was allowed to correspond with paine in prison, though this was not allowed to his successor, monroe. however, there is, unfortunately, no need to repair to suspicions for the part of gouverneur morris in this affair. his first ministerial mention of the matter to secretary jefferson is dated on the tragical anniversary, january st "lest i should forget it," he says of this small incident, the imprisonment of one whom congress and the president had honored-- "lest i should forget it, i must mention that thomas paine is in prison, where he amuses himself with publishing a pamphlet against jesus christ. i do not recollect whether i mentioned to you that he would have been executed along with the rest of the brissotins if the advance party had not viewed him with contempt i incline to think that if he is quiet in prison he may have the good luck to be forgotten, whereas, should he be brought much into notice, the long suspended axe might fall on him. i believe he thinks that i ought to claim him as an american citizen; but considering his birth, his naturalization in this country, and the place he filled, i doubt much the right, and i am sure that the claim would be, for the present at least, inexpedient and ineffectual." although this paragraph is introduced in such a casual way, there is calculation in every word first of all, however, be it observed, morris knows precisely how the authorities will act several days before they have been appealed to. it also appears that if paine was not executed with the brissotins on october st, it was not due to any interference on his part the "contempt" which saved paine may be estimated by a reference to the executive consultations with him, and to amar's bitter denunciation of him (october d) after morris had secretly accused this contemptible man of influencing the convention and helping to excite sedition in the united states. in the next place, jefferson is admonished that if he would save his friend's head he must not bring the matter into notice. the government at philadelphia must, in mercy to paine, remain silent. as to the "pamphlet against jesus christ," my reader has already perused what paine wrote on that theme in the "age of reason." but as that may not be so likely to affect freethinking jefferson, morris adds the falsehood that paine had been naturalized in france. the reader need hardly be reminded that if an application by the american minister for the release would be "ineffectual," it must be because the said minister would have it so. morris had already found, as he tells washington, that the ministry, supposing him immovable, were making overtures of conciliation; and none can read the obsequious letter of the foreign minister, deforgues (october , ), without knowing that a word from morris would release paine. the american petitioners had indeed been referred to their own government--that is, to morris. the american minister's version of what had occurred is given in a letter to secretary jefferson, dated march th: "i have mentioned mr. paine's confinement. major jackson--who, by the by, has not given me a letter from you which he says was merely introductory, but left it with the comité de sûreté générale, as a kind of letter of credence--major jackson, relying on his great influence with the leaders here, stepped forward to get mr. paine out of jail, and with several other americans, has presented a petition to that effect, which was referred to that committee and the comité de salut public. this last, i understand, slighted the application as totally irregular; and some time afterwards mr. paine wrote me a note desiring i would claim him as an american, which i accordingly did, though contrary to my judgment, for reasons mentioned in my last the minister's letter to me of the st ventose, of which i enclose a copy, contains the answer to my reclamation. i sent a copy to mr. paine, who prepared a long answer, and sent it to me by an englishman, whom i did not know. i told him, as mr. paine's friend, that my present opinion was similar to that of the minister, but i might, perhaps, see occasion to change it, and in that case, if mr. paine wished it, i would go on with the claim, but that it would be well for him to consider the result; that, if the government meant to release him, they had already a sufficient ground; but if not, i could only push them to bring on his trial for the crimes imputed to him; seeing that whether he be considered as a frenchman, or as an american, he must be amenable to the tribunals of france for his conduct while he was a frenchman, and he may see in the fate of the brissotins, that to which he is exposed. i have heard no more of the affair since; but it is not impossible that he may force on a decision, which, as far as i can judge, would be fatal to him: for in the best of times he had a larger share of every other sense than common sense, and lately the intemperate use of ardent spirits has, i am told, considerably impaired the small stock he originally possessed." in this letter the following incidental points suggest comment: . "several other americans." the petitioners for paine's release were eighteen in number, and seem to have comprised all the americans then left in paris, some of them eminent. . "the crimes imputed to him." there were none. paine was imprisoned under a law against "foreigners." those charged with his arrest reported that his papers were entirely innocent. the archives of france, now open to exploration, prove that no offence was ever imputed to him, showing his arrest due only to morris' insinuation of his being objectionable to the united states. by this insinuation ("crimes imputed to him") paine was asserted to be amenable to french laws for matters with which the united states would of course have nothing to do, and of which nothing could be known in philadelphia. . "while he was a frenchman." had paine ever been a frenchman, he was one when morris pretended that he had claimed him as an american. but paine had been excluded from the convention and imprisoned expressly because he was not a frenchman. no word of the convention's published action was transmitted by morris. . "the fate of the brissotins," etc. this of course would frighten paine's friends by its hint of a french hostility to him which did not exist, and might restrain them from applying to america for interference. paine was already restrained by the new order preventing him from communicating with any one except the american minister. . "intemperate," etc this is mere calumny. since the brief lapse in june, , when overwhelmed by the arrest of his friends, paine's daily life is known from those who dwelt with him. during the months preceding his arrest he wrote the "age of reason"; its power, if alcoholic, might have recommended his cellar to morris, or to any man living. so much for the insinuations and _suggestions falsi_ in morris' letter. the suppressions of fact are more deadly. there is nothing of what had really happened; nothing of the eulogy of paine by the president of the convention, which would have been a commentary on what morris had said of the contempt in which he was held; not a word of the fact that the petitioners were reminded by the committee that their application was unofficial,--in other words, that the determination on paine's fate rested with morris himself. this morris hides under the phrase: "slighted the application as totally irregular." but the fatal far-reaching falsehood of morris' letter to jefferson was his assertion that he had claimed paine as an american. this falsehood, told to washington, jefferson, edmund randolph, paralyzed all action in america in paine's behalf; told to the americans in paris, it paralyzed further effort of their own. the actual correspondence between morris and deforgues is now for the first time brought to light. morris to deforgues, "paris, th february ( pluviôse) . "sir,--thomas paine has just applied to me to claim him as a citizen of the united states. these (i believe) are the facts which relate to him. he was born in england. having become a citizen of the united states, he acquired great celebrity there through his revolutionary writings. in consequence he was adopted as french citizen, and then elected member of the convention. his behaviour since that epoch is out of my jurisdiction. i am ignorant of the reason for his present detention in the luxembourg prison, but i beg you, sir, if there be reasons which prevent his liberation, and which are unknown to me, be so good as to inform me of them, so that i may communicate them to the government of the united states.--i have the honour to be, sir, your very humble servant, "gouv. morris." deforgues to morris. "paris, st ventose, nd year of the republic [february , .] "the minister of foreign affairs to the minister of the united states. "in your letter of the th of last month you reclaim the liberty of thomas payne, as an american citizen. born in england, this ex-deputy has become successively an american and a french citizen. in accepting this last title, and in occupying a place in the legislative corps, he submitted himself to the laws of the republic, and has _de fait_ renounced the protection which the right of the people and treaties concluded with the united states could have assured him. "i am ignorant of the motives of his detention, but i must presume they are well founded. i shall nevertheless submit the demand you have addressed me to the committee of public safety, and i shall lose no time in letting you know its decision. "deforgues." * "États unis," vol. xl., doc. . endorsed: "received the th of same [pluviôse, i. e., feb. th]. to declare reception and to tell him that the minister will take the necessary steps." the french minister's reply is doc. of the same volume. the opening assertion of the french minister's note reveals the collusion. careful examination of the american minister's letter, to find where he "reclaims the liberty of thomas payne as an american citizen," forces me to the conclusion that the frenchman only discovered such reclamation there by the assistance of morris. the american minister distinctly declares paine to be a french citizen, and disclaims official recognition of his conduct as "_pas de mon ressort_." it will be borne in mind that this french minister is the same deforgues who had confided to morris his longing to succeed genêt in america, and to whom morris had whispered his design against paine. morris resided at sainport, twenty-seven miles away, but his note is written in paris. four days elapse before the reply. consultation is further proved by the french minister's speaking of paine as "occupying a place in the legislative corps." no uninspired frenchman could have so described the convention, any more than an american would have described the convention of as "congress." deforgues' phrase is calculated for philadelphia, where it might be supposed that the recently adopted constitution had been followed by the organization of a legislature, whose members must of course take an oath of allegiance, which the convention had not required.* deforgues also makes bold to declare--as far away as philadelphia--that paine is a french citizen, though he was excluded from the convention and imprisoned; because he was a "foreigner." * deforgues' phrase "laws of the republic" is also a deception. the constitution had been totally suspended by the convention; no government or law had been or ever was established under or by it. there was as yet no republic, and only revolutionary or martial laws. the extreme ingenuity of the letter was certainly not original with this frenchman. the american minister, in response to his note declaring paine a french citizen, and disclaiming jurisdiction over him, returns to sainport with his official opiate for paine's friends in america and paris--a certificate that he has "reclaimed the liberty of thomas paine as an american citizen." the alleged reclamation suppressed, the certificate sent to secretary jefferson and to paine, the american minister is credited with having done his duty. in washington's cabinet, where the technicalities of citizenship had become of paramount importance, especially as regarded france, deforgues' claim that paine was not an american must be accepted--morris consenting--as final. it may be wondered that morris should venture on so dangerous a game. but he had secured himself in anything he might choose to do. so soon as he discovered, in the previous summer, that he was not to be removed, and had fresh thunderbolts to wield, he veiled himself from the inspection of jefferson. this he did in a letter of september , . in the quasi-casual way characteristic of him when he is particularly deep, morris then wrote: "_by the bye, i shall cease to send you copies of my various applications in particular cases, for they will cost you more in postage than they are worth_." i put in italics this sentence, as one which merits memorable record in the annals of diplomacy. the french foreign office being secret as the grave, jefferson facile, and washington confiding, there was no danger that morris' letter to de-forgues would ever appear. although the letter of deforgues,--his certificate that morris had reclaimed paine as an american,--was a little longer than the pretended reclamation, postal economy did not prevent the american minister from sending _that_, but his own was never sent to his government, and to this day is unknown to its archives. it cannot be denied that morris' letter to de-forgues is masterly in its way. he asks the minister to give him such reasons for paine's detention as may not be known to him (morris), there being no such reasons. he sets at rest any timidity the frenchman might have, lest morris should be ensnaring him also, by begging--not demanding--such knowledge as he may communicate to his government. philadelphia is at a safe distance in time and space. deforgues is complacent enough, morris being at hand, to describe it as a "demand," and to promise speedy action on the matter--which was then straightway buried, for a century's slumber. paine was no doubt right in his subsequent belief that morris was alarmed at his intention of returning to america. should paine ever reach jefferson and his adherents, gouverneur morris must instantly lose a position which, sustained by washington, made him a power throughout europe. moreover, there was a nemesis lurking near him. the revolutionists, aware of his relations with their enemies, were only withheld from laying hands on him by awe of washington and anxiety about the alliance. the moment of his repudiation by his government would have been a perilous one. it so proved, indeed, when monroe supplanted him. for the present, however, he is powerful. as the french executive could have no interest merely to keep paine, for six months, without suggestion of trial, it is difficult to imagine any reason, save the wish of morris, why he was not allowed to depart with the americans, in accordance with their petition. thus thomas paine, recognized by every american statesman and by congress as a founder of their republic, found himself a prisoner, and a man without a country. outlawed by the rulers of his native land--though the people bore his defender, erskine, from the court on their shoulders --imprisoned by france as a foreigner, disowned by america as a foreigner, and prevented by its minister from returning to the country whose president had declared his services to it pre-eminent! never dreaming that his situation was the work of morris, paine (february th) appealed to him for help. "i received your letter enclosing a copy of a letter from the minister of foreign affairs. you must not leave me in the situation in which this letter places me. you know i do not deserve it, and you see the unpleasant situation in which i am thrown. i have made an essay in answer to the minister's letter, which i wish you to make ground of a reply to him. they have nothing against me--except that they do not choose i should be in a state of freedom to write my mind freely upon things i have seen. though you and i are not on terms of the best harmony, i apply to you as the minister of america, and you may add to that service whatever you think my integrity deserves. at any rate i expect you to make congress acquainted with my situation, and to send to them copies of the letters that have passed on the subject. a reply to the minister's letter is absolutely necessary, were it only to continue the reclamation. otherwise your silence will be a sort of consent to his observations." supposing, from the french minister's opening assertion, that a reclamation had really been made, paine's simplicity led him into a trap. he sent his argument to be used by the minister in an answer of his own, so that minister was able to do as he pleased with it, the result being that it was buried among his private papers, to be partly brought to light by jared sparks, who is candid enough to remark on the minister's indifference and the force of paine's argument. not a word to congress was ever said on the subject. jefferson, without the knowledge or expectation of morris, had resigned the state secretaryship at the close of . morris' letter of march th reached the hands of edmund randolph, jefferson's successor, late in june. on june th randolph writes washington, at mount vernon, that he has received a letter from morris, of march th, saying "that he has demanded paine as an american citizen, but that the minister holds him to be amenable to the french laws." randolph was a just man and an exact lawyer; it is certain that if he had received a copy of the fictitious "reclamation" the imprisonment would have been curtailed. under the false information before him, nothing could be done but await the statement of the causes of paine's detention, which deforgues would "lose no time" in transmitting. it was impossible to deny, without further knowledge, the rights over paine apparently claimed by the french government. and what could be done by the americans in paris, whom paine alone had befriended? joel barlow, who had best opportunities of knowing the facts, says: "he [paine] was always charitable to the poor beyond his means, a sure friend and protector to all americans in distress that he found in foreign countries; and he had frequent occasions to exert his influence in protecting them during the revolution in france." they were grateful and deeply moved, these americans, but thoroughly deceived about the situation. told that they must await the action of a distant government, which itself was waiting for action in paris, alarmed by the american minister's hints of danger that might ensue on any misstep or agitation, assured that he was proceeding with the case, forbidden to communicate with paine, they were reduced to helplessness. meanwhile, between silent america and these americans, all so cunningly disabled, stood the remorseless french committee, ready to strike or to release in obedience to any sign from the alienated ally, to soothe whom no sacrifice would be too great. genêt had been demanded for the altar of sacred alliance, but (to morris' regret) refused by the american government. the revolution would have preferred morris as a victim, but was quite ready to offer paine. six or seven months elapsed without bringing from president or cabinet a word of sympathy for paine. but they brought increasing indications that america was in treaty with england, and washington disaffected towards france. under these circumstances robespierre resolved on the accusation and trial of paine. it does not necessarily follow that paine would have been condemned; but there were some who did not mean that he should escape, among whom robespierre may or may not have been included. the probabilities, to my mind, are against that theory. robespierre having ceased to attend the committee of public safety when the order issued for paine's death. chapter viii. sick and in prison it was a strange world into which misfortune had introduced paine. there was in prison a select and rather philosophical society, mainly persons of refinement, more or less released from conventional habit by the strange conditions under which they found themselves. there were gentlemen and ladies, no attempt being made to separate them until some scandal was reported. the luxembourg was a special prison for the french nobility and the english, who had a good opportunity for cultivating democratic ideas. the gaoler, benoit, was good-natured, and cherished his unwilling guests as his children, according to a witness. paine might even have been happy there but for the ever recurring tragedies--the cries of those led forth to death. he was now and then in strange juxtapositions. one day deforgues came to join him, he who had conspired with morris. instead of receiving for his crime diplomatic security in america he found himself beside his victim. perhaps if deforgues and paine had known each other's language a confession might have passed there were horrors on horrors. paine's old friend, hérault de séchelles, was imprisoned for having humanely concealed in his house a poor officer who was hunted by the police; he parted from paine for the scaffold. so also he parted from the brilliant camille desmoulins, and the fine dreamer, anacharsis clootz. one day came danton, who, taking paine's hand, said: "that which you did for the happiness and liberty of your country, i tried in vain to do for mine. i have been less fortunate, but not less innocent. they will send me to the scaffold; very well, my friends, i shall go gaily." even so did danton meet his doom.* all of the english prisoners became paine's friends. among these was general o'hara,--that same general who had fired the american heart at yorktown by offering the surrendered sword of cornwallis to rochambeau instead of washington. o'hara's captured suite included two physicians--bond and graham--who attended paine during an illness, as he gratefully records. what money paine had when arrested does not appear to have been taken from him, and he was able to assist general o'hara with £ to return to his country; though by this and similar charities he was left without means when his own unexpected deliverance came.** the first part of "the age of reason" was sent out with final revision at the close of january. * "mémoires sur les prisons," t. ii., p. . ** among the anecdotes told of o'hara in prison, one is related of an argument he held with a frenchman, on the relative degrees of liberty in england and france. "in england," he said, "we are perfectly free to write and print, george is a good king; but you--why you are not even permitted to write, robespierre is a tiger!" in the second edition appeared the following inscription: "to my fellow citizens of the united states of america.--i put the following work under your protection. it contains my opinion upon religion. you will do me the justice to remember, that i have always strenuously supported the right of every man to his opinion, however different that opinion might be to mine. he who denies to another this right, makes a slave of himself to his present opinion, because he precludes himself the right of changing it. the most formidable weapon against errors of every kind is reason. i have never used any other, and i trust i never shall.--your affectionate friend and fellow citizen, "thomas paine." this dedication is dated, "luxembourg (paris), th pluviôse, second year of the french republic, one and indivisible. january , o. s. ." paine now addressed himself to the second part of "the age of reason," concerning which the following anecdote is told in the manuscript memoranda of thomas rickman: "paine, while in the luxembourg prison and expecting to die hourly, read to mr. bond (surgeon of brighton, from whom this anecdote came) parts of his _age of reason_; and every night, when mr. bond left him, to be separately locked up, and expecting not to see paine alive in the morning, he [paine] always expressed his firm belief in the principles of that book, and begged mr. bond should tell the world such were his dying sentiments. paine further said, if he lived he should further prosecute the work and print it. bond added, paine was the most conscientious man he ever knew." in after years, when paine was undergoing persecution for "infidelity," he reminded the zealots that they would have to "accuse providence of infidelity," for having "protected him in all his dangers." incidentally he gives reminiscences of his imprisonment. "i was one of the nine members that composed the first committee of constitution. six of them have been destroyed. sieyès and myself have survived--he by bending with the times, and i by not bending. the other survivor [barrère] joined robespierre; he was seized and imprisoned in his turn, and sentenced to transportation. he has since apologized to me for having signed the warrant, by saying he felt himself in danger and was obliged to do it. hérault séchelles, an acquaintance of mr. jefferson, and a good patriot, was my _suppléant_ as member of the committee of constitution.... he was imprisoned in the luxembourg with me, was taken to the tribunal and guillotined, and i, his principal, left. there were two foreigners in the convention, anacharsis clootz and myself. we were both put out of the convention by the same vote, arrested by the same order, and carried to prison together the same night. he was taken to the guillotine, and i was again left.... joseph lebon, one of the vilest characters that ever existed, and who made the streets of arras run with blood, was my _suppléant_ as member of the convention for the pas de calais. when i was put out of the convention he came and took my place. when i was liberated from prison and voted again into the convention, he was sent to the same prison and took my place there, and he was sent to the guillotine instead of me. he supplied my place all the way through. "one hundred and sixty-eight persons were taken out of the luxembourg in one night, and a hundred and sixty of them guillotined next day, of which i knew i was to be one; and the manner i escaped that fate is curious, and has all the appearance of accident. the room in which i lodged was on the ground floor, and one of a long range of rooms under a gallery, and the door of it opened outward and flat against the wall; so that when it was open the inside of the door appeared outward, and the contrary when it was shut. i had three comrades, fellow prisoners with me, joseph vanhuile of bruges, since president of the municipality of that town, michael and robbins bastini of louvain. when persons by scores and by hundreds were to be taken out of the prison for the guillotine it was always done in the night, and those who performed that office had a private mark or signal by which they knew what rooms to go to, and what number to take. we, as i have-said, were four, and the door of our room was marked, unobserved by us, with that number in chalk; but it happened, if happening is the proper word, that the mark was put on when the door was open and flat against the wall, and thereby came on the inside when we shut it at night; and the destroying angel passed by it." paine did not hear of this chalk mark until afterwards. in his letter to washington he says: "i had been imprisoned seven months, and the silence of the executive part of the government of america (mr. washington) upon the case, and upon every thing respecting me, was explanation enough to robespierre that he might proceed to extremities. a violent fever which had nearly terminated my existence was, i believe, the circumstance that preserved it. i was not in a condition to be removed, or to know of what was passing, or of what had passed, for more than a month. it makes a blank in my remembrance of life. the first thing i was informed of was the fall of robespierre." the probabilities are that the prison physician marhaski, whom paine mentions with gratitude, was with him when the chalk mark was made, and that there was some connivance in the matter. in the same letter he says: "from about the middle of march ( ) to the fall of robespierre, july , ( th of thermidor,) the state of things in the prisons was a continued scene of horror. no man could count upon life for twenty-four hours. to such a pitch of rage and suspicion were robespierre and his committee arrived, that it seemed as if they feared to leave a man to live. scarcely a night passed in which ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty or more were not taken out of the prison, carried before a pretended tribunal in the morning, and guillotined before night. one hundred and sixty-nine were taken out of the luxembourg one night in the month of july, and one hundred and sixty of them guillotined. a list of two hundred more, according to the report in the prison, was preparing a few days before robespierre fell. in this last list i have good reason to believe i was included." to this paine adds the memorandum for his accusation found in robespierre's note-book. of course it was natural, especially with the memorandum, to accept the robespierre mythology of the time without criticism. the massacres of july were not due to robespierre, who during that time was battling with the committee of public safety, at whose hands he fell on the th. at the close of june there was an alarm at preparations for an insurrection in luxembourg prison, which caused a union of the committee of public safety and the police, resulting in indiscriminate slaughter of prisoners. but paine was discriminated. barrère, long after, apologized to him for having signed "the warrant," by saying he felt himself in danger and was obliged to do it paine accepted the apology, and when barrère had returned to france, after banishment, paine introduced him to the english author, lewis goldsmith.* as barrère did not sign the warrant for paine's imprisonment, it must have been a warrant for his death, or for accusation at a moment when it was equivalent to a death sentence. whatever danger barrère had to fear, so great as to cause him to sacrifice paine, it was not from robespierre; else it would not have continued to keep paine in prison three months after robespierre's death. * "mémoires de b. barrère," t. i., p. . lewis goldsmith was the author of "crimes of the cabinets." as robespierre's memorandum was for a "decree of accusation" against paine, separately, which might not have gone against him, but possibly have dragged to light the conspiracy against him, there would seem to be no ground for connecting that "demand" with the warrant signed by a committee he did not attend. paine had good cause for writing as he did in praise of "forgetfulness." during the period in which he was unconscious with fever the horrors of the prison reached their apogee. on june th the kindly gaoler, benoit, was removed and tried; he was acquitted but not restored. his place was given to a cruel fellow named gayard, who instituted a reign of terror in the prison. there are many evidences that the good benoit, so warmly remembered by paine, evaded the rigid police regulations as to communications of prisoners with their friends outside, no doubt with precaution against those of a political character. it is pleasant to record an instance of this which was the means of bringing beautiful rays of light into paine's cell. shortly before his arrest an english lady had called on him, at his house in the faubourg st. denis, to ask his intervention in behalf of an englishman of rank who had been arrested. paine had now, however, fallen from power, and could not render the requested service. this lady was the last visitor who preceded the officers who arrested him. but while he was in prison there was brought to him a communication, in a lady's handwriting, signed "a little corner of the world." so far as can be gathered, this letter was of a poetical character, perhaps tinged with romance. it was followed by others, all evidently meant to beguile the weary and fearful hours of a prisoner whom she had little expectation of ever meeting again. paine, by the aid of benoit, managed to answer his "contemplative correspondent," as he called her, signing, "the castle in the air." these letters have never seen the light, but the sweetness of this sympathy did, for many an hour, bring into paine's _oubliette_ the oblivion of grief described in the letter on "forgetfulness," sent to the lady after his liberation. "memory, like a beauty that is always present to hear herself flattered, is flattered by every one. but the absent and silent goddess, forgetfulness, has no votaries, and is never thought of: yet we owe her much. she is the goddess of ease, though not of pleasure. when the mind is like a room hung with black, and every corner of it crowded with the most horrid images imagination can create, this kind, speechless maid, forgetfulness, is following us night and day with her opium wand, and gently touching first one and then another, benumbs them into rest, and then glides away with the silence of a departing shadow." paine was not forgotten by his old friends in france. so soon as the excitement attending robespierre's execution had calmed a little, lan-thenas (august th) sent merlin de thionville a copy of the "age of reason," which he had translated, and made his appeal. "i think it would be in the well-considered interest of the republic, since the fall of the tyrants we have overthrown, to re-examine the motives of thomas paine's imprisonment. that re-examination is suggested by too many and sensible grounds to be related in detail. every friend of liberty familiar with the history of our revolution, and feeling the necessity of repelling the slanders with which despots are loading it in the eyes of nations, misleading them against us, will understand these grounds. should the committee of public safety, having before it no founded charge or suspicion against thomas paine, retain any scruples, and think that from my occasional conversation with that foreigner, whom the people's suffrage called to the national representation, and some acquaintance with his language, i might perhaps throw light upon their doubt, i would readily communicate to them all that i know about him. i request merlin de thionville to submit these considerations to the committee." merlin was now a leading member of the committee. on the following day paine sent (in french) the following letters: "citizens, representatives, and members of the committee of public safety: i address you a copy of a letter which i have to-day written to the convention. the singular situation in which i find myself determines me to address myself to the whole convention, of which you are a part "thomas paine. maison d'arrêt du luxembourg, le thermidor, l'an de la république, une et indivisible." "citizen representatives: if i should not express myself with the energy i used formerly to do, you will attribute it to the very dangerous illness i have suffered in the prison of the luxembourg. for several days i was insensible of my own existence; and though i am much recovered, it is with exceeding great difficulty that i find power to write you this letter. "but before i proceed further, i request the convention to observe: that this is the first line that has come from me, either to the convention, or to any of the committees, since my imprisonment,--which is approaching to eight months.--ah, my friends, eight months' loss of liberty seems almost a life-time to a man who has been, as i have been, the unceasing defender of liberty for twenty years. "i have now to inform the convention of the reason of my not having written before. it is a year ago that i had strong reason to believe that robespierre was my inveterate enemy, as he was the enemy of every man of virtue and humanity. the address that was sent to the convention some time about last august from arras, the native town of robespierre, i have always been informed was the work of that hypocrite and the partizans he had in the place. the intention of that address was to prepare the way for destroying me, by making the people declare (though without assigning any reason) that i had lost their confidence; the address, however, failed of success, as it was immediately opposed by a counter-address from st. omer which declared the direct contrary. but the strange power that robespierre, by the most consummate hypocrisy and the most hardened cruelties, had obtained rendered any attempt on my part to obtain justice not only useless but even dangerous; for it is the nature of tyranny always to strike a deeper blow when any attempt has been made to repel a former one. this being my situation i submitted with patience to the hardness of my fate and waited the event of brighter days. i hope they are now arrived to the nation and to me. "citizens, when i left the united states in the year , i promised to all my friends that i would return to them the next year; but the hope of seeing a revolution happily established in france, that might serve as a model to the rest of europe, and the earnest and disinterested desire of rendering every service in my power to promote it, induced me to defer my return to that country, and to the society of my friends, for more than seven years. this long sacrifice of private tranquillity, especially after having gone through the fatigues and dangers of the american revolution which continued almost eight years, deserved a better fate than the long imprisonment i have silently suffered. but it is not the nation but a faction that has done me this injustice, and it is to the national representation that i appeal against that injustice. parties and factions, various and numerous as they have been, i have always avoided. my heart was devoted to all france, and the object to which i applied myself was the constitution. the plan which i proposed to the committee, of which i was a member, is now in the hands of barrère, and it will speak for itself. "it is perhaps proper that i inform you of the cause assigned in the order for my imprisonment it is that i am 'a foreigner'; whereas, the _foreigner_ thus imprisoned was invited into france by a decree of the late national assembly, and that in the hour of her greatest danger, when invaded by austrians and prussians. he was, moreover, a citizen of the united states of america, an ally of france, and not a subject of any country in europe, and consequently not within the intentions of any of the decrees concerning foreigners. but any excuse can be made to serve the purpose of malignity when it is in power. "i will not intrude on your time by offering any apology for the broken and imperfect manner in which i have expressed myself. i request you to accept it with the sincerity with which it comes from my heart; and i conclude with wishing fraternity and prosperity to france, and union and happiness to her representatives. "citizens, i have now stated to you my situation, and i can have no doubt but your justice will restore me to the liberty of which i have been deprived. "thomas paine. "luxembourg, thermidor th, d year of the french republic, one and indivisible." no doubt this touching letter would have been effectual had it reached the convention. but the committee of public safety took care that no whisper even of its existence should be heard. paine's participation in their fostered dogma, that _robespierre le veut_ explained all crimes, probably cost him three more months in prison. the lamb had confided its appeal to the wolf. barrère, bil-laud-varennes, and collot d'herbois, by skilful use of the dead scapegoat, maintained their places on the committee until september st, and after that influenced its counsels. at the same time morris, as we shall see, was keeping monroe out of his place. there might have been a serious reckoning for these men had paine been set free, or his case inquired into by the convention. and thuriot was now on the committee of public safety; he was eager to lay his own crimes on robespierre, and to conceal those of the committee. paine's old friend, achille audibert, unsuspicious as himself of the real facts, sent an appeal (august th) to "citizen thuriot, member of the committee of public safety." "representative:--a friend of mankind is groaning in chains,--thomas paine, who was not so politic as to remain silent in regard to a man unlike himself, but dared to say that robespierre was a monster to be erased from the list of men. from that moment he became a criminal; the despot marked him as his victim, put him into prison, and doubtless prepared the way to the scaffold for him, as for others who knew him and were courageous enough to speak out.* * it most be remembered that at this time it seemed the strongest recommendation of any one to public favor to describe him as a victim of robespierre; and paine's friends could conceive no other cause for the detention of a man they knew to be innocent. "thomas paine is an acknowledged citizen of the united states. he was the secretary of the congress for the department of foreign affairs during the revolution. he has made himself known in europe by his writings, and especially by his 'rights of man.' the electoral assembly of the department of pas-de-calais elected him one of its representatives to the convention, and commissioned me to go to london, inform him of his election, and bring him to france. i hardly escaped being a victim to the english government with which he was at open war; i performed my mission; and ever since friendship has attached me to paine. this is my apology for soliciting you for his liberation. "i can assure you, representative, that america was by no means satisfied with the imprisonment of a strong column of its revolution. please to take my prayer into consideration. but for robespierre's villainy this friend of man would now be free. do not permit liberty longer to see in prison a victim of the wretch who lives no more but by his crimes; and you will add to the esteem and veneration i feel for a man who did so much to save the country amidst the most tremendous crisis of our revolution. "greeting, respect, and brotherhood, "achille audibert, of calais. "no. rue de bellechase, fauborg st germaine." audibert's letter, of course, sank under the burden of its robespierre myth to a century's sleep beside paine's, in the committee's closet. meanwhile, the regulation against any communication of prisoners with the outside world remaining in force, it was some time before paine could know that his letter had been suppressed on its way to the convention. he was thus late in discovering his actual enemies. an interesting page in the annals of diplomacy remains to be written on the closing weeks of morris in france. on august th he writes to robert morris: "i am preparing for my departure, but as yet can take no step, as there is a kind of interregnum in the government and mr. monroe is not yet received, at which he grows somewhat impatient." there was no such interregnum, and no such explanation was given to monroe, who writes: "i presented my credentials to the commissary of foreign affairs soon after my arrival [august d]; but more than a week had elapsed, and i had obtained no answer, when or whether i should be received. a delay beyond a few days surprised me, because i could discern no adequate or rational motive for it."* * "view of the conduct of the executive in the foreign affairs of the united states," by james monroe, p. . it is plain that the statement of paine, who was certainly in communication with the committees a year later, is true, that morris was in danger on account of the interception of compromising letters written by him. he needed time to dispose of his house and horses, and ship his wines, and felt it important to retain his protecting credentials. at any moment his friends might be expelled from the committee, and their papers be examined. while the arrangements for monroe's reception rested with morris and this unaltered committee, there was little prospect of monroe's being installed at all. the new minister was therefore compelled, as other americans had been, to appeal directly to the convention. that assembly responded at once, and he was received (august th) with highest honors. morris had nothing to do with the arrangement. the historian frédéric masson, alluding to the "unprecedented" irregularity of morris in not delivering or receiving letters of recall, adds that monroe found it important to state that he had acted without consultation with his predecessor.* this was necessary for a cordial reception by the convention, but it invoked the cordial hatred of morris, who marked him for his peculiar guillotine set up in philadelphia. * "le département des affaires Étrangères," etc., p. . so completely had america and congress been left in the dark about paine that monroe was surprised to find him a prisoner. when at length the new minister was in a position to consult the french minister about paine, he found the knots so tightly tied around this particular victim--almost the only one left in the luxembourg of those imprisoned during the terror--that it was difficult to untie them. the minister of foreign affairs was now m. bouchot, a weak creature who, as morris said, would not wipe his nose without permission of the committee of public safety. when monroe opened paine's case he was asked whether he had brought instructions. of course he had none, for the administration had no suspicion that morris had not, as he said, attended to the case. when paine recovered from his fever he heard that monroe had superseded morris. "as soon as i was able to write a note legible enough to be read, i found a way to convey one to him [monroe] by means of the man who lighted the lamps in the prison, and whose unabated friendship to me, from whom he never received any service, and with difficulty accepted any recompense, puts the character of mr. washington to shame. in a few days i received a message from mr. monroe, conveyed in a note from an intermediate person, with assurance of his friendship, and expressing a desire that i should rest the case in his hands. after a fortnight or more had passed, and hearing nothing farther, i wrote to a friend [whiteside], a citizen of philadelphia, requesting him to inform me what was the true situation of things with respect to me. i was sure that something was the matter; i began to have hard thoughts of mr. washington, but i was unwilling to encourage them. in about ten days i received an answer to my letter, in which the writer says: 'mr. monroe told me he had no order (meaning from the president, mr. washington) respecting you, but that he (mr. monroe) will do everything in his power to liberate you, but, from what i learn from the americans lately arrived in paris, you are not considered, either by the american government or by individuals, as an american citizen.'" as the american government did regard paine as an american citizen, and approved monroe's demanding him as such, there is no difficulty in recognizing the source from which these statements were diffused among paine's newly arriving countrymen. morris was still in paris. on the receipt of whiteside's note, paine wrote a memorial to monroe, of which important parts--amounting to eight printed pages--are omitted from american and english editions of his works. in quoting this memorial, i select mainly the omitted portions.* * the whole is published in french: "mémoire de thomas payne, autographe et signé de sa main: addressé à m. monroe, ministre des États-unis en france, pour réclamer sa mise en liberté comme citoyen américain, zo septembre, . villeneuve." paine says that before leaving london for the convention, he consulted minister pinckney, who agreed with him that "it was for the interest of america that the system of european governments should be changed and placed on the same principle with her own"; and adds: "i have wished to see america the mother church of government, and i have done my utmost to exalt her character and her condition." he points out that he had not accepted any title or office under a foreign government, within the meaning of the united states constitution, because there was no government in france, the convention being assembled to frame one; that he was a citizen of france only in the honorary sense in which others in europe and america were declared such; that no oath of allegiance was required or given. the following paragraphs are from various parts of the memorial. "they who propagate the report of my not being considered as a citizen of america by government, do it to the prolongation of my imprisonment, and without authority; for congress, as a government, has neither decided upon it, nor yet taken the matter into consideration; and i request you to caution such persons against spreading such reports.... "i know not what opinions have been circulated in america. it may have been supposed there, that i had voluntarily and intentionally abandoned america, and that my citizenship had ceased by my own choice. i can easily conceive that there are those in that country who would take such a proceeding on my part somewhat in disgust. the idea of forsaking old friendships for new acquaintances is not agreeable. i am a little warranted in making this supposition by a letter i received some time ago from the wife of one of the georgia delegates, in which she says, 'your friends on this side the water cannot be reconciled to the idea of your abandoning america.' i have never abandoned america in thought, word, or deed, and i feel it incumbent upon me to give this assurance to the friends i have in that country, and with whom i have always intended, and am determined, if the possibility exists, to close the scene of my life. it is there that i have made myself a home. it is there that i have given the services of my best days. america never saw me flinch from her cause in the most gloomy and perilous of her situations: and i know there are those in that country who will not flinch from me. if i have enemies (and every man has some) i leave them to the enjoyment of their ingratitude.... "it is somewhat extraordinary, that the idea of my not being a citizen of america should have arisen only at the time that i am imprisoned in france because, or on the pretence that, i am a foreigner. the case involves a strange contradiction of ideas. none of the americans who came to france whilst i was in liberty, had conceived any such idea or circulated any such opinion; and why it should arise now is a matter yet to be explained. however discordant the late american minister, gouverneur morris, and the late french committee of public safety were, it suited the purpose of both that i should be continued in arrestation. the former wished to prevent my return to america, that i should not expose his misconduct; and the latter, lest i should publish to the world the history of its wickedness. whilst that minister and that committee continued, i had no expectation of liberty. i speak here of the committee of which robespierre was a member.... "i here close my memorial and proceed to offer to you a proposal, that appears to me suited to all the circumstances of the case; which is, that you reclaim me conditionally, until the opinion of congress can be obtained upon the subject of my citizenship of america, and that i remain in liberty under your protection during that time. i found this proposal upon the following grounds: "first, you say you have no orders respecting me; consequently you have no orders _not_ to reclaim me; and in this case you are left discretionary judge whether to reclaim or not. my proposal therefore unites a consideration of your situation with my own. "secondly, i am put in arrestation because i am a foreigner. it is therefore necessary to determine to what country i belong. the right of determining this question cannot appertain exclusively to the committee of public safety or general surety; because i appear to the minister of the united states, and shew that my citizenship of that country is good and valid, referring at the same time, through the agency of the minister, my claim of right to the opinion of congress,--it being a matter between two governments. "thirdly, france does not claim me for a citizen; neither do i set up any claim of citizenship in france. the question is simply, whether i am or am not a citizen of america. i am imprisoned here on the decree for imprisoning foreigners, because, say they, i was born in england. i say in answer, that, though born in england, i am not a subject of the english government any more than any other american is who was born, as they all were, under the same government, or that the citizens of france are subjects of the french monarchy, under which they were born. i have twice taken the oath of abjuration to the british king and government, and of allegiance to america. once as a citizen of the state of pennsylvania in ; and again before congress, administered to me by the president, mr. hancock, when i was appointed secretary in the office of foreign affairs in .... "painful as the want of liberty may be, it is a consolation to me to believe that my imprisonment proves to the world that i had no share in the murderous system that then reigned. that i was an enemy to it, both morally and politically, is known to all who had any knowledge of me; and could i have written french as well as i can english, i would publicly have exposed its wickedness, and shown the ruin with which it was pregnant. they who have esteemed me on former occasions, whether in america or england, will, i know, feel no cause to abate that esteem when they reflect, that imprisonment with preservation of character, is preferable to liberty with disgrace." in a postscript paine adds that "as gouverneur morris could not inform congress of the cause of my arrestation, as he knew it not himself, it is to be supposed that congress was not enough acquainted with the case to give any directions respecting me when you left." which to the reader of the preceding pages will appear sufficiently naïve. to this monroe responded (september th) with a letter of warm sympathy, worthy of the high-minded gentleman that he was. after ascribing the notion that paine was not an american to mental confusion, and affirming his determination to maintain his rights as a citizen of the united states, monroe says: "it is unnecessary for me to tell you how much all your countrymen, i speak of the great mass of the people, are interested in your welfare. they have not forgotten the history of their own revolution, and the difficult scenes through which they passed; nor do they review its several stages without reviving in their bosoms a due sensibility of the merits of those who served them in that great and arduous conflict. the crime of ingratitude has not yet stained, and i trust never will stain, our national character. you are considered by them, as not only having rendered important services in our own revolution, but as being on a more extensive scale, the friend of human rights, and a distinguished and able advocate in favor of public liberty. to the welfare of thomas paine the americans are not and cannot be indifferent. of the sense which the president has always entertained of your merits, and of his friendly disposition towards you, you are too well assured to require any declaration of it from me. that i forward his wishes in seeking your safety is what i well know; and this will form an additional obligation on me to perform what i should otherwise consider as a duty. "you are, in my opinion, menaced by no kind of danger. to liberate you, will be an object of my endeavors, and as soon as possible. but you must, until that event shall be accomplished, face your situation with patience and fortitude; you will likewise have the justice to recollect, that i am placed here upon a difficult theatre, many important objects to attend to, and with few to consult. it becomes me in pursuit of those, to regulate my conduct in respect to each, as to the manner and the time, as will, in my judgment, be best calculated to accomplish the whole. "with great esteem and respect consider me personally your friend, "james monroe." monroe was indeed "placed upon a difficult theatre." morris was showing a fresh letter from the president expressing unabated confidence in him, apologizing for his recall; he still had friends in the committee of public safety, to which monroe had appealed in vain. the continued dread the conspirators had of paine's liberation appears in the fact that monroe's letter, written september th, did not reach paine until october th, when morris had reached the boundary line of switzerland, which he entered on the th. he had left paris (sainport) october th, when barrère, billaud-varennes, and collot d'herbois, no longer on the committee, were under accusation, and their papers under investigation,--a search that resulted in their exile. morris got across the line on an irregular passport. while monroe's reassuring letter to paine was taking a month to penetrate his prison walls, he vainly grappled with the subtle obstacles. all manner of delays impeded the correspondence, the principal one being that he could present no instructions from the president concerning paine. of course he was fighting in the dark, having no suspicion that the imprisonment was due to his predecessor. at length, however, he received from secretary randolph a letter (dated july th), from which, though paine was not among its specifications, he could select a sentence as basis of action: "we have heard with regret that several of our citizens have been thrown into prison in france, from a suspicion of criminal attempts against the government. if they are guilty we are extremely sorry for it; if innocent we must protect them." what paine had said in his memorial of collusion between morris and the committee of public safety probably determined monroe to apply no more in that quarter; so he wrote (november d) to the committee of general surety. after stating the general principles and limitations of ministerial protection to an imprisoned countryman, he adds: "the citizens of the united states cannot look back upon the time of their own revolution without recollecting among the names of their most distinguished patriots that of thomas paine; the services he rendered to his country in its struggle for freedom have implanted in the hearts of his countrymen a sense of gratitude never to be effaced as long as they shall deserve the title of a just and generous people. "the above-named citizen is at this moment languishing in prison, affected with a disease growing more intense from his confinement. i beg, therefore, to call your attention to his condition and to request you to hasten the moment when the law shall decide his fate, in case of any accusation against him, and if none, to restore him to liberty. "greeting and fraternity, "monroe." at this the first positive assertion of paine's american citizenship the prison door flew open. he had been kept there solely "pour les intérêts de l'amérique," as embodied in morris, and two days after monroe undertook, without instructions, to affirm the real interests of america in paine he was liberated. "brumaire, th. third year of the french republic.--the committee of general surety orders that the citizen thomas paine be set at liberty, and the seals taken from his papers, on sight of these presents. "members of the committee (signed): clauzel, lesage, senault, bentabole, reverchon, goupilleau de fontenai, rewbell. "delivered to clauzel, as commissioner."* there are several interesting points about this little decree. it is signed by bentabole, who had moved paine's expulsion from the convention. it orders that the seals be removed from paine's papers, whereas none had been placed on them, the officers reporting them innocent. this same authority, which had ordered paine's arrest, now, in ordering his liberation, shows that the imprisonment had never been a subject of french inquiry. it had ordered the seals but did not know whether they were on the papers or not. it was no concern of france, but only of the american minister. it is thus further evident that when monroe invited a trial of paine there was not the least trace of any charge against him. and there was precisely the same absence of any accusation against paine in the new committee of public safety, to which monroe's letter was communicated the same day. writing to secretary randolph (november th) monroe says: "he was actually a citizen of the united states, and of the united states only; for the revolution which parted us from great britain broke the allegiance which was before due to the crown, of all who took our side. he was, of course, not a british subject; nor was he strictly a citizen of france, for he came by invitation for the temporary purpose of assisting in the formation of their government only, and meant to withdraw to america when that should be completed. and what confirms this is the act of the convention itself arresting him, by which he is declared a foreigner. mr. paine pressed my interference. "i told him i had hoped getting him enlarged without it; but, if i did interfere, it could only be by requesting that he be tried, in case there was any charge against him, and liberated in case there was not. this was admitted. his correspondence with me is lengthy and interesting, and i may probably be able hereafter to send you a copy of it. after some time had elapsed, without producing any change in his favor, i finally resolved to address the committee of general surety in his behalf, resting my application on the above principle. my letter was delivered by my secretary in the committee to the president, who assured him he would communicate its contents immediately to the committee of public safety, and give me an answer as soon as possible. the conference took place accordingly between the two committees, and, as i presume, on that night, or on the succeeding day; for on the morning of the day after, which was yesterday, i was presented by the secretary of the committee of general surety with an order for his enlargement. i forwarded it immediately to the luxembourg, and had it carried into effect; and have the pleasure now to add that he is not only released to the enjoyment of liberty, but is in good spirits." in reply, the secretary of state (randolph) in a letter to monroe of march , , says: "your observations on our commercial relations to france, and your conduct as to mr. gardoqui's letter, prove your judgment and assiduity. nor are your measures as to mr. paine, and the lady of our friend [lafayette] less approved." thus, after an imprisonment of ten months and nine days, thomas paine was liberated from the prison into which he had been cast by a minister of the united states. chapter ix. a restoration as in paine had left england with the authorities at his heels, so in escaped morris from france. the ex-minister went off to play courtier to george iii. and write for louis xviii. the despotic proclamation with which monarchy was to be restored in france*; paine sat in the house of a real american minister, writing proclamations of republicanism to invade the empires. so passed each to his own place. while the american minister in paris and his wife were nursing their predecessor's victim back into life, a thrill of joy was passing through european courts, on a rumor that the dreaded author had been guillotined. paine had the satisfaction of reading, at monroe's fireside, his own last words on the scaffold,** and along with it an invitation of the th of december . * morris' royal proclamations are printed in full in his biography by jared sparks. ** "the last dying words of thomas paine. executed at the guillotine in france on the st of september, ." the dying speech begins: "ye numerous spectators gathered around, pray give ear to my last words; i am determined to speak the truth in these my last moments, altho' i have written and spoke nothing but lies all my life." there is nothing in the witless leaflet worth quoting. when paine was burnt in effigy, in , it appears to have been with accompaniments of the same kind. before me is a small placard, which reads thus: "the dying speech and confession of the arch-traitor thomas paine. who was executed at oakham on thursday." "this morning the officers usually attending on such occasions went in procession on horseback to the county gaol, and demanded the body of the arch-traitor, and from thence proceeded with the criminal drawn in a cart by an ass to the usual place of execution with his pamphlet called the 'rights of man' in his right hand." on december , , thibaudeau had spoken to that assembly in the following terms: "it yet remains for the convention to perform an act of justice. i reclaim one of the most zealous defenders of liberty'--thomas paine. (_loud applause_.) my reclamation is for a man who has honored his age by his energy in defence of the rights of humanity, and who is so gloriously distinguished by his part in the american revolution. a naturalized frenchman* by a decree of the legislative assembly, he was nominated by the people. it was only by an intrigue that he was driven from the convention, the pretext being a decree excluding foreigners from representing the french people. there were only two foreigners in the convention; one [anacharsis clootz] is dead, and i speak not of him, but of thomas paine, who powerfully contributed to establish liberty in a country allied with the french republic. i demand that he be recalled to the bosom of the convention." (_applause._) "the _moniteur_, from which i translate, reports the unanimous adoption of thibaudeau's motion. but this was not enough. the committee of public instruction, empowered to award pensions for literary services, reported (january , ) as the first name on their list, thomas paine. chenier, in reading the report, claimed the honor of having originally suggested paines name as an honorary citizen of france, and denounced, amid applause, the decree against foreigners under which the great author had suffered. * here thibaudeau was inexact. in the next sentence but one he rightly describes paine as a foreigner. the allusion to "an intrigue" is significant. you have revoked that inhospitable decree, and we again see thomas paine, the man of genius without fortune, our colleague, dear to all friends of humanity,--a cosmopolitan, persecuted equally by pitt and by robespierre. notable epoch in the life of this philosopher, who opposed the arms of common sense to the sword of tyranny, the rights of man to the machiavelism of english politicians; and who, by two immortal works, has deserved well of the human race, and consecrated liberty in the two worlds." poor as he was, paine declined this literary pension. he accepted the honors paid him by the convention, no doubt with a sorrow at the contrasted silence of those who ruled in america. monroe, however, encouraged him to believe that he was still beloved there, and, as he got stronger, a great homesickness came upon him. the kindly host made an effort to satisfy him. on january th he (monroe) wrote to the committee of public safety: "citizens: the decree just passed, bearing on the execution of articles and of the treaty of friendship and commerce between the two republics, is of such great importance to my country, that i think it expedient to send it there officially, by some particularly confidential hand; and no one seems to be better fitted for this errand than thomas paine, having resided a long time in france, and having a perfect knowledge of the many vicissitudes which the republic has passed, he will be able to explain and compare the happy lot she now enjoys. as he has passed the same himself, remaining faithful to his principles, his reports will be the more trustworthy, and consequently produce a better effect. but as citizen paine is a member of the convention, i thought it better to submit this subject to your consideration. if this affair can be arranged, the citizen will leave for america immediately, via bordeaux, on an american vessel which will be prepared for him. as he has reason to fear the persecution of the english government, should he be taken prisoner, he desires that his departure may be kept a secret. "jas. monroe." the convention alone could give a passport to one of its members, and as an application to it would make paine's mission known, the committee returned next day a negative answer. "citizen: we see with satisfaction and without surprise, that you attach some interest to sending officially to the united states the decree which the national convention has just made, in which are recalled and confirmed the reports of friendship and commerce existing between the two republics. "as to the design you express of confiding this errand to citizen thomas paine, we must observe to you that the position he holds will not permit him to accept it. salutation and friendship. "cambacérès."* liberty's great defender gets least of it! the large seal of the committee--mottoed "activity, purity, attention"--looks like a wheel of fortune; but one year before it had borne from the convention to prison the man it now cannot do without. france now especially needs the counsel of shrewd and friendly american heads. there are indications that jay in london is carrying the united states into pitt's combination against the republic, just as it is breaking up on the continent. monroe's magnanimity towards paine found its reward. he brought to his house, and back into life, just the one man in france competent to give him the assistance he needed. comprehending the history of the revolution, knowing the record of every actor in it, paine was able to revise monroe's impressions, and enable him to check calumnies circulated in america. the despatches of monroe are of high historic value, largely through knowledge derived from paine. * state archives of france. États unis, vol. xliii. monroe dates his letter, " th year of the american republic." nor was this all. in monroe's instructions emphasis was laid on the importance to the united states of the free navigation of the mississippi and its ultimate control.* paine's former enthusiasm in this matter had possibly been utilized by gouverneur morris to connect him, as we have seen, with genêt's proceedings. the kentuckians consulted paine at a time when expulsion of the spaniard was a patriotic american scheme. this is shown in a letter written by the secretary of state (randolph) to the president, february , . "mr. brown [senator of kentucky] has shown me a letter from the famous dr. o'fallon to captain herron, dated oct , . it was intercepted, and he has permitted me to take the following extract:--'this plan (an attack on louisiana) was digested between gen. clarke and me last christmas. i framed the whole of the correspondence in the general's name, and corroborated it by a private letter of my own to mr. thomas paine, of the national assembly, with whom during the late war i was very intimate. his reply reached me but a few days since, enclosed in the general's despatches from the ambassador."** * "the conduct of spain towards us is unaccountable and injurious. mr. pinckney is by this time gone over to madrid as our envoy extraordinary to bring matters to a conclusion some way or other. but you will seize any favorable moment to execute what has been entrusted to you respecting the mississippi."--randolph to monroe, february , . ** two important historical works have recently appeared relating to the famous senator brown. the first is a publication of the filson club: "the political beginnings of kentucky," by john mason brown. the second is: "the spanish conspiracy," by thomas marshall green (cincinnati, robert clarke & co., ). the intercepted letter quoted above has some bearing on the controversy between these authors. apparently, senator brown, like many other good patriots, favored independent action in kentucky when that seemed for the welfare of the united states, but, when the situation had changed, brown is found co-operating with washington and randolph. that such letters (freely written as they were at the beginning of ) were now intercepted indicates the seriousness of the situation time had brought on. the administration had soothed the kentuckians by pledges of pressing the matter by negotiations. hence monroe's instructions, in carrying out which paine was able to lend a hand. { } in the state archives at paris (États unis, vol. xliii.) there are two papers marked "thomas payne." the first urges the french ministry to seize the occasion of a treaty with spain to do a service to the united states: let the free navigation of the mississippi be made by france a condition of peace. the second paper (endorsed " ventose, february , ") proposes that, in addition to the condition made to spain, an effort should be made to include american interests in the negotiation with england, if not too late. the negotiation with england was then finished, but the terms unpublished. paine recommended that the convention should pass a resolution that freedom of the mississippi should be a condition of peace with spain, which would necessarily accept it; and that, in case the arrangement with england should prove unsatisfactory, any renewed negotiations should support the just reclamations of their american ally for the surrender of the frontier posts and for depredations on their trade. paine points out that such a declaration could not prolong the war a day, nor cost france an obole; whereas it might have a decisive effect in the united states, especially if jay's treaty with england should be reprehensible, and should be approved in america. that generosity "would certainly raise the reputation of the french republic to the most eminent degree of splendour, and lower in proportion that of her enemies." it would undo the bad effects of the depredations of french privateers on american vessels, which rejoiced the british party in the united states and discouraged the friends of liberty and humanity there. it would acquire for france the merit which is her due, supply her american friends with strength against the intrigues of england, and cement the alliance of the republics. this able paper might have been acted on, but for the anger in france at the jay treaty. while writing in monroe's house, the invalid, with an abscess in his side and a more painful sore in his heart--for he could not forget that washington had forgotten him,--receives tidings of new events through cries in the street. in the month of his release they had been resonant with yells as the jacobins were driven away and their rooms turned to a normal school. then came shouts, when, after trial, the murderous committeemen were led to execution or exile. in the early weeks of the dread sounds of retribution subside, and there is a cry from the street that comes nearer to paine's heart--"bread and the constitution of ninety-three!" he knows that it is his constitution for which they are really calling, for they cannot understand the robespierrian adulteration of it given out, as one said, as an opiate to keep the country asleep. the people are sick of revolutionary rule. these are the people in whom paine has ever believed,--the honest hearts that summoned him, as author of "the rights of man," to help form their constitution. they, he knows, had to be deceived when cruel deeds were done, and heard of such deeds with as much horror as distant peoples. over that constitution for which they were clamoring he and his lost friend condorcet had spent many a day of honest toil. of the original committee of nine appointed for the work, six had perished by the revolution, one was banished, and two remained--sieyès and paine. that original committee had gradually left the task to paine and condorcet,--sieyès, because he had no real sympathy with republicanism, though he honored paine.* when afterwards asked how he had survived the terror, sieyès answered, "i lived." he lived by bending, and now leads a committee of eleven on the constitution, while paine, who did not bend, is disabled. paine knows sieyès well. the people will vainly try for the "constitution of ninety-three." they shall have no constitution but of sieyès' making, and in it will be some element of monarchy. sieyès presently seemed to retire from the committee, but old republicans did not doubt that he was all the more swaying it. * "mr. thomas paine is one of those men who have contributed the most to establish the liberty of america. his ardent love of humanity, and his hatred of every sort of tyranny, have induced him to take up in england the defence of the french revolution, against the amphigorical declamation of mr. burke. his work has been translated into our language, and is universally known. what french patriot is there who has not already, from the bottom of his heart, thanked this foreigner for having strengthened our cause by all the powers of his reason and reputation? it is with pleasure that i observe an opportunity of offering him the tribute of my gratitude and my esteem for the truly philosophical application of talents so distinguished as his own."--sieyès in the moniteur, july , . so once more paine seizes his pen; his hand is feeble, but his intellect has lost no fibre of force, nor his heart its old faith. his trust in man has passed through the ordeal of seeing his friends--friends of man--murdered by the people's convention, himself saved by accident; it has survived the apparent relapse of washington into the arms of george the third. the ingratitude of his faithfully-served america is represented by an abscess in his side, which may strike into his heart--in a sense has done so--but will never reach his faith in liberty, equality, and humanity. early in july the convention is reading paine's "dissertation on first principles of government" his old arguments against hereditary right, or investing even an elective individual with extraordinary power, are repeated with illustrations from the passing revolution. "had a constitution been established two years ago, as ought to have been done, the violences that have since desolated france and injured the character of the revolution, would, in my opinion, have been prevented. the nation would have had a bond of union, and every individual would have known the line of conduct he was to follow. but, instead of this, a revolutionary government, a thing without either principle or authority, was substituted in its place; virtue or crime depended upon accident; and that which was patriotism one day, became treason the next. all these things have followed from the want of a constitution; for it is the nature and intention or a constitution to prevent governing by party, by establishing a common principle that shall limit and control the power and impulse of party, and that says to all parties, _thus far shalt thou go, and no farther_. but in the absence of a constitution men look entirely to party; and instead of principle governing party, party governs principle. "an avidity to punish is always dangerous to liberty. it leads men to stretch, to misinterpret and to misapply even the best of laws. he that would make his own liberty secure, must guard even his enemy from oppression; for if he violates this duty, he establishes a precedent that will reach himself." few of paine's pamphlets better deserve study than this. in writing it, he tells us, he utilized the fragment of a work begun at some time not stated, which he meant to dedicate to the people of holland, then contemplating a revolution. it is a condensed statement of the principles underlying the constitution written by himself and condorcet, now included among condorcet's works. they who imagine that paine's political system was that of the democratic demagogues may undeceive themselves by pondering this pamphlet. it has been pointed out, on a previous page of this work, that paine held the representative to be not the voter's mouthpiece, but his delegated sovereignty. the representatives of a people are therefore its supreme power. the executive, the ministers, are merely as chiefs of the national police engaged in enforcing the laws. they are mere employés, without any authority at all, except of superintendence. "the executive department is official, and is subordinate to the legislative as the body is to the mind." the chief of these official departments is the judicial. in appointing officials the most important rule is, "never to invest any individual with extraordinary power; for besides being tempted to misuse it, it will excite contention and commotion in the nation for the office." all of this is in logical conformity with the same author's "rights of man," which james madison declared to be an exposition of the principles on which the united states government is based. it would be entertaining to observe the countenance of a president should our house of representatives address him as a chief of national police. soon after the publication of paine's "dissertation" a new french constitution was textually submitted for popular consideration. although in many respects it accorded fairly well with paine's principles, it contained one provision which he believed would prove fatal to the republic. this was the limitation of citizenship to payers of direct taxes, except soldiers who had fought in one or more campaigns for the republic, this being a sufficient qualification. this revolutionary disfranchisement of near half the nation brought paine to the convention (july th) for the first time since the fall of the brissotins, two years before. the scene at his return was impressive. a special motion was made by lan-thenas and unanimously adopted, "that permission be granted thomas paine to deliver his sentiments on the declaration of rights and the constitution." with feeble step he ascended the tribune, and stood while a secretary read his speech. of all present this man had suffered most by the confusion of the mob with the people, which caused the reaction on which was floated the device he now challenged. it is an instance of idealism rare in political history. the speech opens with words that caused emotion. "citizens, the effects of a malignant fever, with which i was afflicted during a rigorous confinement in the luxembourg, have thus long prevented me from attending at my post in the bosom of the convention; and the magnitude of the subject under discussion, and no other consideration on earth, could induce me now to repair to my station. a recurrence to the vicissitudes i have experienced, and the critical situations in which i have been placed in consequence of the french revolution, will throw upon what i now propose to submit to the convention the most unequivocal proofs of my integrity, and the rectitude of those principles which have uniformly influenced my conduct. in england i was proscribed for having vindicated the french revolution, and i have suffered a rigorous imprisonment in france for having pursued a similar line of conduct. during the reign of terrorism i was a prisoner for eight long months, and remained so above three months after the era of the th thermidor. i ought, however, to state, that i was not persecuted by the _people_, either of england or france. the proceedings in both countries were the effects of the despotism existing in their respective governments. but, even if my persecution had originated in the people at large, my principles and conduct would still have remained the same. principles which are influenced and subject to the control of tyranny have not their foundation in the heart." though they slay him paine will trust in the people. there seems a slight slip of memory; his imprisonment, by revolutionary calendar, lasted ten and a half months, or days; but there is no failure of conviction or of thought. he points out the inconsistency of the disfranchisement of indirect tax-payers with the declaration of rights, and the opportunity afforded partisan majorities to influence suffrage by legislation on the mode of collecting taxes. the soldier, enfranchised without other qualification, would find his children slaves. "if you subvert the basis of the revolution, if you dispense with principles and substitute expedients, you will extinguish that enthusiasm which has hitherto been the life and soul of the revolution; and you will substitute in its place nothing but a cold indifference and self-interest, which will again degenerate into intrigue, cunning, and effeminacy." there was an educational test of suffrage to which he did not object. "where knowledge is a duty, ignorance is a crime." but in his appeal to pure principle simple-hearted paine knew nothing of the real test of the convention's votes. this white-haired man was the only eminent member of the convention with nothing in his record to cause shame or fear. he almost alone among them had the honor of having risked his head rather than execute louis, on whom he had looked as one man upon another. he alone had refused to enter the convention when it abandoned the work for which it was elected and became a usurping tribunal. during two fearful years the true republic had been in paine's house and garden, where he conversed with his disciples; or in luxembourg prison, where he won all hearts, as did imprisoned george fox, who reappeared in him, and where, beneath the knife whose fall seemed certain, he criticised consecrated dogmas. with this record paine spoke that day to men who feared to face the honest sentiment of the harried peasantry. some of the members had indeed been terrorized, but a majority shared the disgrace of the old convention. they were jeered at on the streets. the heart of france was throbbing again, and what would become of these "conventionnels," when their assembly should die in giving birth to a government? they must from potentates become pariahs. their aim now was to prolong their political existence. the constitutional narrowing of the suffrage was in anticipation of the decree presently appended, that two thirds of the new legislature should be chosen from the convention. paine's speech was delivered against a foregone conclusion. this was his last appearance in the convention. out of it he naturally dropped when it ended (october , ), with the organization of the directory. being an american he would not accept candidature in a foreign government. chapter x. the silence of washington monroe, in a letter of september th to his relative, judge joseph jones, of fredericksburg, virginia, after speaking of the judge's son and his tutor at st. germain, adds: "as well on his account as that of our child, who is likewise at st. germain, we had taken rooms there, with the intention of occupying for a month or two in the course of the autumn, but fear it will not be in our power to do so, on account of the ill-health of mr. paine, who has lived in my house for about ten months past. he was upon my arrival confined in the luxembourg, and released on my application; after which, being ill, he has remained with me. for some time the prospect of his recovery was good; his malady being an abscess in his side, the consequence of a severe fever in the luxembourg. latterly his symptoms have become worse, and the prospect now is that he will not be able to hold out more than a month or two at the furthest. i shall certainly pay the utmost attention to this gentleman, as he is one of those whose merits in our revolution were most distinguished."* * i am indebted to mrs. gouverneur, of washington, for this letter, which is among the invaluable papers of her ancestor, president monroe, which surely should be secured for our national archives. paine's speech in the convention told sadly on his health. again he had to face death. as when, in , the guillotine rising over him, he had set about writing his last bequest, the "age of reason," he now devoted himself to its completion. the manuscript of the second part, begun in prison, had been in the printer's hands some time before monroe wrote of his approaching end. when the book appeared, he was so low that his death was again reported. so far as france was concerned, there was light about his eventide. "almost as suddenly," so he wrote, "as the morning light dissipates darkness, did the establishment of the constitution change the face of affairs in france. security succeeded to terror, prosperity to distress, plenty to famine, and confidence increased as the days multiplied." this may now seem morbid optimism, but it was shared by the merry youth, and the pretty dames, whose craped arms did not prevent their sandalled feet and greek-draped forms from dancing in their transient golden age. of all this, we may be sure, the invalid hears many a beguiling story from madame monroe. but there is a grief in his heart more cruel than death. the months have come and gone,--more than eighteen,--since paine was cast into prison, but as yet no word of kindness or inquiry had come from washington. early in the year, on the president's sixty-third birthday, paine had written him a letter of sorrowful and bitter reproach, which monroe persuaded him not to send, probably because of its censures on the ministerial failures of morris, and "the pusillanimous conduct of jay in england." it now seems a pity that monroe did not encourage paine to send washington, in substance, the personal part of his letter, which was in the following terms: "as it is always painful to reproach those one would wish to respect, it is not without some difficulty that i have taken the resolution to write to you. the danger to which i have been exposed cannot have been unknown to you, and the guarded silence you have observed upon that circumstance, is what i ought not to have expected from you, either as a friend or as a president of the united states. "you knew enough of my character to be assured that i could not have deserved imprisonment in france, and, without knowing anything more than this, you had sufficient ground to have taken some interest for my safety. every motive arising from recollection ought to have suggested to you the consistency of such a measure. but i cannot find that you have so much as directed any enquiry to be made whether i was in prison or at liberty, dead or alive; what the cause of that imprisonment was, or whether there was any service or assistance you could render. is this what i ought to have expected from america after the part i had acted towards her? or, will it redound to her honor or to your's that i tell the story? "i do not hesitate to say that you have not served america with more fidelity, or greater zeal, or greater disinterestedness, than myself, and perhaps with not better effect after the revolution of america had been established, you rested at home to partake its advantages, and i ventured into new scenes of difficulty to extend the principles which that revolution had produced. in the progress of events you beheld yourself a president in america and me a prisoner in france: you folded your arms, forgot your friend, and became silent. "as everything i have been doing in europe was connected with my wishes for the prosperity of america, i ought to be the more surprised at this conduct on the part of her government. it leaves me but one mode of explanation, which is, that everything is not as it ought to be amongst you, and that the presence of a man who might disapprove, and who had credit enough with the country to be heard and believed, was not wished for. this was the operating motive of the despotic faction that imprisoned me in france (though the pretence was that i was a foreigner); and those that have been silent towards me in america, appear to me to have acted from the same motive. it is impossible for me to discover any other." unwilling as all are to admit anything disparaging to washington, justice requires the fair consideration of paine's complaint there were in his hands many letters proving washington's friendship, and his great appreciation of paine's services. paine had certainly done nothing to forfeit his esteem. the "age of reason" had not appeared in america early enough to affect the matter, even should we suppose it offensive to a deist like washington. the dry approval, forwarded by the secretary of state, of monroe's reclamation of paine, enhanced the grievance. it admitted paine's american citizenship. it was not then an old friend unhappily beyond his help, but a fellow-citizen whom he could legally protect, whom the president had left to languish in prison, and in hourly danger of death. during six months he saw no visitor, he heard no word, from the country for which he had fought. to paine it could appear only as a sort of murder. and, although he kept back the letter, at his friend's desire, he felt that it might yet turn out to be murder. even so it seemed, six months later, when the effects of his imprisonment, combined with his grief at washington's continued silence (surely monroe must have written on the subject), brought him to death's door. one must bear in mind also the disgrace, the humiliation of it, for a man who had been reverenced as a founder of the american republic, and its apostle in france. this, indeed, had made his last three months in prison, after there had been ample time to hear from washington, heavier than all the others. after the fall of robespierre the prisons were rapidly emptied--from twenty to forty liberations daily,--the one man apparently forgotten being he who wrote, "in the times that tried men's souls," the words that washington ordered to be read to his dispirited soldiers. and now death approaches. if there can be any explanation of this long neglect and silence, knowledge of it would soothe the author's dying pillow; and though there be little probability that he can hold out so long, a letter (september th) is sent to washington, under cover to franklin bache. "sir,--i had written you a letter by mr. letombe, french consul, but, at the request of mr. monroe, i withdrew it, and the letter is still by me. i was the more easily prevailed upon to do this, as it was then my intention to have returned to america the latter end of the present year ( ;) but the illness i now suffer prevents me. in case i had come, i should have applied to you for such parts of your official letters (and your private ones, if you had chosen to give them) as contained any instructions or directions either to mr. monroe, to mr. morris, or to any other person, respecting me; for after you were informed of my imprisonment in france it was incumbent on you to make some enquiry into the cause, as you might very well conclude that i had not the opportunity of informing you of it. i cannot understand your silence upon this subject upon any other ground, than as connivance at my imprisonment; and this is the manner in which it is understood here, and will be understood in america, unless you will give me authority for contradicting it. i therefore write you this letter, to propose to you to send me copies of any letters you have written, that i may remove this suspicion. in the second part of the "age of reason," i have given a memorandum from the handwriting of robespierre, in which he proposed a decree of accusation against me 'for the interest of america as well as of france.' he could have no cause for putting america in the case, but by interpreting the silence of the american government into connivance and consent. i was imprisoned on the ground of being born in england; and your silence in not inquiring the cause of that imprisonment, and reclaiming me against it, was tacitly giving me up. i ought not to have suspected you of treachery; but whether i recover from the illness i now suffer, or not, i shall continue to think you treacherous, till you give me cause to think otherwise. i am sure you would have found yourself more at your ease had you acted by me as you ought; for whether your desertion of me was intended to gratify the english government, or to let me fall into destruction in france that you might exclaim the louder against the french revolution; or whether you hoped by my extinction to meet with less opposition in mounting up the american government; either of these will involve you in reproach you will not easily shake off. "thomas paine." this is a bitter letter, but it is still more a sorrowful one. in view of what washington had written of paine's services, and for the sake of twelve years of _camaraderie_, washington should have overlooked the sharpness of a deeply wronged and dying friend, and written to him what his minister in france had reported. my reader already knows, what the sufferer knew not, that a part of paine's grievance against washington was unfounded. washington could not know that the only charge against paine was one trumped up by his own minister in france. had he considered the letter just quoted, he must have perceived that paine was laboring under an error in supposing that no inquiry had been made into his case. there are facts antecedent to the letter showing that his complaint had a real basis. for instance, in a letter to monroe (july th), president's interest was expressed in two other american prisoners in france--archibald hunter and shubael allen,--but no word was said of paine. there was certainly a change in washington towards paine, and the following may have been its causes. . paine had introduced genêt to morris, and probably to public men in america. genêt had put an affront on morris, and taken over a demand for his recall, with which morris connected paine. in a letter to washington (private) morris falsely insinuated that paine had incited the actions of genêt which had vexed the president. . morris, perhaps in fear that jefferson, influenced by americans in paris, might appoint paine to his place, had written to robert morris in philadelphia slanders of paine, describing him as a sot and an object of contempt. this he knew would reach washington without passing under the eye of paine's friend, jefferson. . in a private letter morris related that paine had visited him with colonel oswald, and treated him insolently. washington particularly disliked oswald, an american journalist actively opposing his administration. . morris had described paine as intriguing against him, both in europe and america, thus impeding his mission, to which the president attached great importance. . the president had set his heart on bribing england with a favorable treaty of commerce to give up its six military posts in america. the most obnoxious man in the world to england was paine. any interference in paine s behalf would not only have offended england, but appeared as a sort of repudiation of morris' intimacy with the english court. the (alleged) reclamation of paine by morris had been kept secret by washington even from friends so intimate (at the time) as madison, who writes of it as having never been done. so carefully was avoided the publication of anything that might vex england. . morris had admonished the secretary of state that if paine's imprisonment were much noticed it might endanger his life. so conscience was free to jump with policy. what else morris may have conveyed to washington against paine can be only matter for conjecture; but what he was capable of saying about those he wished to injure may be gathered from various letters of his. in one (december , ) he tells washington that he had heard from a trusted informant that his minister, monroe, had told various frenchmen that "he had no doubt but that, if they would do what was proper here, he and his friends would turn out washington." liability to imposition is the weakness of strong natures. many an iago of canine cleverness has made that discovery. but, however washington's mind may have been poisoned towards paine, it seems unaccountable that, after receiving the letter of september th, he did not mention to monroe, or to somebody, his understanding that the prisoner had been promptly reclaimed. in my first edition it was suggested that the letter might have been intercepted by secretary pickering, paine's enemy, who had withheld from washington important documents in randolph's case. unfortunately my copyist in the state department sent me only bache's endorsement: "jan. , . enclosed to benj. franklin bache, and by him forwarded immediately upon receipt." but there is also an endorsement by washington: "from mr. thomas paine, sept. ." (addressed outside: "george washington, president of the united states.") the president was no longer visited by his old friends, madison and others, and they could not discuss with him the intelligence they were receiving about paine. madison, in a letter to jefferson (dated at philadelphia, january , ), says: "i have a letter from thomas paine which breathes the same sentiments, and contains some keen observations on the administration of the government here. it appears that the neglect to claim him as an american citizen when confined by robespierre, or even to interfere in any way whatever in his favor, has filled him with an indelible rancor against the president, to whom it appears he has written on the subject [september , ]. his letter to me is in the style of a dying one, and we hear that he is since dead of the abscess in his side, brought on by his imprisonment. his letter desires that he may be remembered to you." whatever the explanation may be, no answer came from washington. after waiting a year paine employed his returning strength in embodying the letters of february d and september th, with large additions, in a printed _letter to george washington_. the story of his imprisonment and death sentence here for the first time really reached the american people. his personal case is made preliminary to an attack on washington's whole career. the most formidable part of the pamphlet was the publication of washington's letter to the committee of public safety, which, departing from its rule of secrecy (in anger at the british treaty), thus delivered a blow not easily answerable. the president's letter was effusive, about the "alliance," "closer bonds of friendship," and so forth,--phrases which, just after the virtual transfer of our alliance to the enemy of france, smacked of perfidy. paine attacks the treaty, which is declared to have put american commerce under foreign dominion. "the sea is not free to her. her right to navigate is reduced to the right of escaping; that is, until some ship of england or france stops her vessels and carries them into port." the ministerial misconduct of gouverneur morris, and his neglect of american interests, are exposed in a sharp paragraph. washington's military mistakes are relentlessly raked up, with some that he did not commit, and the credit given him for victories won by others heavily discounted. { } that washington smarted under this pamphlet appears by a reference to it in a letter to david stuart, january , . speaking of himself in the third person, he says: "although he is soon to become a private citizen, his opinions are to be knocked down, and his character reduced as low as they are capable of sinking it, even by resorting to absolute falsehoods. as an evidence whereof, and of the plan they are pursuing, i send you a letter of mr. paine to me, printed in this city [philadelphia], and disseminated with great industry." in the same letter he says: "enclosed you will receive also a production of peter porcupine, alias william cobbett. making allowances for the asperity of an englishman, for some of his strong and coarse expressions, and a want of official information as to many facts, it is not a bad thing."* cobbett's answer to paine's personal grievance was really an arraignment of the president. he undertakes to prove that the french convention was a real government, and that by membership in it paine had forfeited his american citizenship. but monroe had formally claimed paine as an american citizen, and the president had officially endorsed that claim. that this approval was unknown to cobbett is a remarkable fact, showing that even such small and tardy action in paine's favor was kept secret from the president's new british and federalist allies. * "porcupine's political censor, for december, . a letter to the infamous tom. paine, in answer to his letter to general washington." for the rest it is a pity that washington did not specify the "absolute falsehoods" in paine's pamphlet, if he meant the phrase to apply to that. it might assist us in discovering just how the case stood in his mind. he may have been indignant at the suggestion of his connivance with paine's imprisonment; but, as a matter of fact, the president had been brought by his minister into the conspiracy which so nearly cost paine his life. on a review of the facts, my own belief is that the heaviest part of paine's wrong came indirectly from great britain. it was probably one more instance of washington's inability to weigh any injustice against an interest of this country. he ignored compacts of capitulation in the cases of burgoyne and asgill, in the revolution; and when convinced that this nation must engage either in war or commercial alliance with england he virtually broke faith with france.* * in a marginal note on monroe's "view, etc.," found among his papers, washington writes: "did then the situation of our affairs admit of any other alternative than negotiation or war?" (sparks' "washington," xi., p- ). since writing my "life of randolph," in which the history of the british treaty is followed, i found in the french archives ( États- unis, vol. ii., doc. ) minister fauchet's report of a conversation with secretary randolph in which he (randolph) said: "what would you have us do? we could not end our difficulties with the english but by a war or a friendly treaty. we were not prepared for war; it was necessary to negotiate." it is now tolerably certain that there was "bluff" on the part of the british players, in london and philadelphia, but it won. to the new alliance he sacrificed his most faithful friends edmund randolph and james monroe; and to it, mainly, was probably due his failure to express any interest in england's outlaw, paine. for this might gain publicity and offend the government with which jay was negotiating. such was george washington. let justice add that he included himself in the list of patriotic martyrdoms. by sacrificing france and embracing george iii. he lost his old friends, lost the confidence of his own state, incurred denunciations that, in his own words, "could scarcely be applied to a nero, a notorious defaulter, or even to a common pickpocket." so he wrote before paine's pamphlet appeared, which, save in the personal matter, added nothing to the general accusations. it is now forgotten that with one exception--johnson--no president ever went out of office so loaded with odium as washington. it was the penalty of paine's power that, of the thousand reproaches, his alone survived to recoil on his memory when the issues and the circumstances that explain if they cannot justify his pamphlet, are forgotten. it is easy for the washington worshipper of to-day to condemn paine's pamphlet, especially as he is under no necessity of answering it. but could he imagine himself abandoned to long imprisonment and imminent death by an old friend and comrade, whose letters of friendship he cherished, that friend avowedly able to protect him, with no apparent explanation of the neglect but deference to an enemy against whom they fought as comrades, an unprejudiced reader would hardly consider paine's letter unpardonable even where unjust. its tremendous indignation is its apology so far as it needs apology. a man who is stabbed cannot be blamed for crying out. it is only in poetry that dying desdemonas exonerate even their deluded slayers. paine, who when he wrote these personal charges felt himself dying of an abscess traceable to washington's neglect, saw not iago behind the president. his private demand for explanation, sent through bache, was answered only with cold silence. "i have long since resolved," wrote washington to governor stone (december , ), "for the present time at least, to let my calumniators proceed without any notice being taken of their invectives by myself, or by any others with my participation or knowledge." but now, nearly a year later, comes paine's pamphlet, which is not made up of invectives, but of statements of fact. if, in this case, washington sent, to one friend at least, cobbett's answer to paine, despite its errors which he vaguely mentions, there appears no good reason why he should not have specified those errors, and paine's also. by his silence, even in the confidence of friendship, the truth which might have come to light was suppressed beyond his grave. for such silence the best excuse to me imaginable is that, in ignorance of the part morris had acted, the president's mind may have been in bewilderment about the exact facts. as for paine's public letter, it was an answer to washington's unjustifiable refusal to answer his private one. it was the natural outcry of an ill and betrayed man to one whom we now know to have been also betrayed. its bitterness and wrath measure the greatness of the love that was wounded. the mutual personal services of washington and paine had continued from the beginning of the american revolution to the time of paine's departure for europe in . although he recognized, as washington himself did, the commander's mistakes paine had magnified his successes; his all-powerful pen defended him against loud charges on account of the retreat to the delaware, and the failures near philadelphia. in those days what "common sense" wrote was accepted as the people's verdict. it is even doubtful whether the proposal to supersede washington might not have succeeded but for paine's fifth _crisis_.* * "when a party was forming, in the latter end of seventy- seven and beginning of seventy-eight, of which john adams was one, to remove mr. washington from the command of the army, on the complaint that he did nothing, i wrote the fifth number of the crisis, and published it at lancaster (congress then being at yorktown, in pennsylvania), to ward off that meditated blow; for though i well knew that the black times of seventy-six were the natural consequence of his want of military judgment in the choice of positions into which the army was put about new york and new jersey, i could see no possible advantage, and nothing but mischief, that could arise by distracting the army into parties, which would have been the case had the intended motion gone on."-- paine's letter iii to the people of the united states ( ). the personal relations between the two had been even affectionate. we find paine consulting him about his projected publications at little oyster suppers in his own room; and washington giving him one of his two overcoats, when paine's had been stolen. such incidents imply many others never made known; but they are represented in a terrible epigram found among paine's papers,--"advice to the statuary who is to execute the statue of washington. "take from the mine the coldest, hardest stone, it needs no fashion: it is washington. but if you chisel, let the stroke be rude, and on his heart engrave--ingratitude." paine never published the lines. washington being dead, old memories may have risen to restrain him; and he had learned more of the treacherous influences around the great man which had poisoned his mind towards other friends besides himself. for his pamphlet he had no apology to make. it was a thing inevitable, volcanic, and belongs to the history of a period prolific in intrigues, of which both washington and paine were victims. chapter xi. "the age of reason" the reception which the "age of reason" met is its sufficient justification. the chief priests and preachers answered it with personal abuse and slander, revealing by such fruits the nature of their tree, and confessing the feebleness of its root, either in reason or human affection. lucian, in his "[--greek--]" represents the gods as invisibly present at a debate, in athens, on their existence. damis, who argues from the evils of the world that there are no gods, is answered by timocles, a theological professor with large salary. the gods feel doleful, as the argument goes against them, until their champion breaks out against damis,--"you blasphemous villain, you! wretch! accursed monster!" the chief of the gods takes courage, and exclaims: "well done, timocles! give him hard words. that is your strong point. begin, to reason and you will be dumb as a fish." so was it in the age when the twilight of the gods was brought on by faith in the son of man. not very different was it when this son of man, dehumanized by despotism, made to wield the thunderbolts of jove, reached in turn his inevitable twilight. the man who pointed out the now admitted survivals of paganism in the despotic system then called christianity, who said, "the church has set up a religion of pomp and revenue in the pretended imitation of a person whose life was humility and poverty," was denounced as a sot and an adulterer. these accusations, proved in this work unquestionably false, have accumulated for generations, so that a mountain of prejudice must be tunnelled before any reader can approach the "age of reason" as the work of an honest and devout mind. it is only to irrelevant personalities that allusion is here made. paine was vehement in his arraignment of church and priesthood, and it was fair enough for them to strike back with animadversions on deism and infidelity. but it was no answer to an argument against the antiquity of genesis to call paine a drunkard, had it been true. this kind of reply was heard chiefly in america. in england it was easy for paine's chief antagonist, the bishop of llandaff, to rebuke paine's strong language, when his lordship could sit serenely in the house of peers with knowledge that his opponent was answered with handcuffs for every englishman who sold his book. but in america, slander had to take the place of handcuffs. paine is at times too harsh and militant. but in no case does he attack any person's character. nor is there anything in his language, wherever objectionable, which i have heard censured when uttered on the side of orthodoxy. it is easily forgotten that luther desired the execution of a rationalist, and that calvin did burn a socinian. the furious language of protestants against rome, and of presbyterians against the english church, is considered even heroic, like the invective ascribed to christ, "generation of vipers, how can you escape the damnation of hell!" although vehement language grates on the ear of an age that understands the real forces of evolution, the historic sense remembers that moral revolutions have been made with words hard as cannon-balls. it was only when soft phrases about the evil of slavery, which "would pass away in god's good time," made way for the abolitionist denunciation of the constitution as "an agreement with hell," that the fortress began to fall. in other words, reforms are wrought by those who are in earnest.* it is difficult in our time to place one's self in the situation of a heretic of paine's time. darwin, who is buried in westminster, remembered the imprisonment of some educated men for opinions far less heretical than his own. george iii. egoistic insanity appears ( ) to have been inherited by an imperial descendant, and should germans be presently punished for their religion, as paine's early followers were in england, we shall again hear those words that are the "half-battles" preceding victories. * "in writing upon this, as upon every other subject, i speak a language plain and intelligible. i deal not in hints and intimations. i have several reasons for this: first, that i may be clearly understood; secondly, that it may be seen i am in earnest; and thirdly, because it is an affront to truth to treat falsehood with complaisance."--paine's reply to bishop watson. there is even greater difficulty in the appreciation by one generation of the inner sense of the language of a past one. the common notion that paines "age of reason" abounds in "vulgarity" is due to the lack of literary culture in those--probably few--who have derived that impression from its perusal. it is the fate of all genius potent enough to survive a century that its language will here and there seem coarse. the thoughts of boccaccio, rabelais, shakespeare,--whose works are commonly expurgated,--are so modern that they are not generally granted the allowances conceded to writers whose ideas are as antiquated as their words. only the instructed minds can set their classic nudities in the historic perspective that reveals their innocency and value. paine's book has done as much to modify human belief as any ever written. it is one of the very few religious works of the last century which survives in unsectarian circulation. it requires a scholarly perception to recognize in its occasional expressions, by some called "coarse," the simple saxon of nor-folkshire. similar expressions abound in pious books of the time; they are not censured, because they are not read. his refined contemporary antagonists--dr. watson and dr. priestley--found no fault with paine's words, though the former twice accuses his assertions as "indecent." in both cases, however, paine is pointing out some biblical triviality or indecency--or what he conceived such. i have before me original editions of both parts of the "age of reason" printed from paine's manuscripts. part first may be read by the most prudish parent to a daughter, without an omission. in part second six or seven sentences might be omitted by the parent, where the writer deals, without the least prurience, with biblical narratives that can hardly be daintily touched. paine would have been astounded at the suggestion of any impropriety in his expressions. he passes over four-fifths of the passages in the bible whose grossness he might have cited in support of his objection to its immorality. "obscenity," he says, "in matters of faith, however wrapped up, is always a token of fable and imposture; for it is necessary to our serious belief in god that we do not connect it with stories that run, as this does, into ludicrous interpretations. the story [of the miraculous conception] is, upon the face of it, the same kind of story as that of jupiter and leda." * "an apology for the bible. by r. llandaff" [dr. richard watson]. another fostered prejudice supposes "the age of reason" largely made up of scoffs. the bishop of llandaff, in his reply to paine, was impressed by the elevated theism of the work, to portions of which he ascribed "a philosophical sublimity." watson apparently tried to constrain his ecclesiastical position into english fair play, so that his actual failures to do so were especially misleading, as many knew paine only as represented by this eminent antagonist. for instance, the bishop says, "moses you term a coxcomb, etc." but paine, commenting on numbers xii., , "moses was very meek, above all men," had argued that moses could not have written the book, for "if moses said this of himself he was a coxcomb." again the bishop says paine terms paul "a fool." but paine had quoted from paul, "'thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die.' to which [he says] one might reply in his own language, and say, 'thou fool, paul, that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die not.'" no intellect that knows the law of literature, that deep answers only unto deep, can suppose that the effect of paine's "age of reason," on which book the thirty years' war for religious freedom in england was won, after many martyrdoms, came from a scoffing or scurrilous work. it is never paine's object to raise a laugh; if he does so it is because of the miserable baldness of the dogmas, and the ignorant literalism, consecrated in the popular mind of his time. through page after page he peruses the heavens, to him silently declaring the glory of god, and it is not laughter but awe when he asks, "from whence then could arise the solitary and strange conceit, that the almighty, who had millions of worlds equally dependent on his protection, should quit the care of all the rest, and come to die in our world, because, they say, one man and one woman had eaten an apple!" in another work paine finds allegorical truth in the legend of eden. the comparative mythlogists of to-day, with many sacred books of the east, can find mystical meaning and beauty in many legends of the bible wherein paine could see none, but it is because of their liberation by the rebels of last century from bondage to the pettiness of literalism. paine sometimes exposes an absurdity with a taste easily questionable by a generation not required like his own to take such things under foot of the letter. but his spirit is never flippant, and the sentences that might so seem to a casual reader are such as browning defended in his "christmas eve." "if any blames me, thinking that merely to touch in brevity the topics i dwell on, were unlawful-- or, worse, that i trench, with undue levity, on the bounds of the holy and the awful, i praise the heart, and pity the head of him, and refer myself to thee, instead of him; who head and heart alike discernest, looking below light speech we utter, when the frothy spume and frequent sputter prove that the soul's depths boil in earnest!" even dr. james martineau, whose reverential spirit no one can question, once raised a smile in his audience, of which the present writer was one, by saying that the account of the temptation of jesus, if true, must have been reported by himself, or "by the only other party present." any allusion to the devil in our day excites a smile. but it was not so in paine's day, when many crossed themselves while speaking of this dark prince. paine has "too much respect for the moral character of christ" to suppose that he told the story of the devil showing him all the kingdoms of the world. "how happened it that he did not discover america; or is it only with kingdoms that his sooty highness has any interest?" this is not flippancy; it was by following the inkstand luther threw at the devil with equally vigorous humor that the grotesque figure was eliminated, leaving the reader of to-day free to appreciate the profound significance of the temptation. how free paine is from any disposition to play to pit or gallery, any more than to dress circle, is shown in his treatment of the book of jonah. it is not easy to tell the story without exciting laughter; indeed the proverbial phrases for exaggeration,--"a whale," a "fish story,"--probably came from jonah. paine's smile is slight. he says, "it would have approached nearer to the idea of a miracle if jonah had swallowed the whale"; but this is merely in passing to an argument that miracles, in the early world, would hardly have represented divinity. had the fish cast up jonah in the streets of nineveh the people would probably have been affrighted, and fancied them both devils. but in the second part of the work there is a very impressive treatment of the book of jonah. this too is introduced with a passing smile--"if credulity could swallow jonah and the whale it could swallow anything." but it is precisely to this supposed "scoffer" that we owe the first interpretation of the profound and pathetic significance of the book, lost sight of in controversies about its miracle. paine anticipates baur in pronouncing it a poetical work of gentile origin. he finds in it the same lesson against intolerance contained in the story of the reproof of abraham for piously driving the suffering fire-worshipper from his tent. (this story is told by the persian saadi, who also refers to jonah: "and now the whale swallowed jonah: the sun set.") in the prophet mourning for his withered gourd, while desiring the destruction of a city, paine finds a satire; in the divine rebuke he hears the voice of a true god, and one very different from the deity to whom the jews ascribed massacres. the same critical acumen is shown in his treatment of the book of job, which he believes to be also of gentile origin, and much admires. the large paine mythology cleared aside, he who would learn the truth about this religious teacher will find in his way a misleading literature of uncritical eulogies. indeed the pious prejudices against paine have largely disappeared, as one may see by comparing the earlier with the later notices of him in religious encyclopaedias. but though he is no longer placed in an infernal triad as in the old hymn--"the world, the devil, and tom paine"--and his political services are now candidly recognized, he is still regarded as the propagandist of a bald illiterate deism. this, which is absurdly unhistorical, paine having been dealt with by eminent critics of his time as an influence among the educated, is a sequel to his long persecution. for he was relegated to the guardianship of an unlearned and undiscriminating radicalism, little able to appreciate the niceties of his definitions, and was gilded by its defensive commonplaces into a figurehead. paine therefore has now to be saved from his friends more perhaps than from his enemies. it has been shown on a former page that his governmental theories were of a type peculiar in his time. though such writers as spencer, frederic harrison, bagehot, and dicey have familiarized us with his ideas, few of them have the historic perception which enables sir george trevelyan to recognize paine's connection with them. it must now be added that paine's religion was of a still more peculiar type. he cannot be classed with deists of the past or theists of the present. instead of being the mere iconoclast, the militant assailant of christian beliefs, the "infidel" of pious slang, which even men who should know better suppose, he was an exact thinker, a slow and careful writer, and his religious ideas, developed through long years, require and repay study. the dedication of "the age of reason" places the work under the "protection" of its authors fellow-citizens of the united states. to-day the trust comes to many who really are such as paine supposed all of his countrymen to be,--just and independent lovers of truth and right. we shall see that his trust was not left altogether unfulfilled by a multitude of his contemporaries, though they did not venture to do justice to the man. paine had idealized his countrymen, looking from his prison across three thousand miles. but, to that vista of space, a century of time had to be added before the book which fanatical couthon suppressed, and the man whom murderous barrère sentenced to death, could both be fairly judged by educated america. "the age of reason" is in two parts, published in successive years. these divisions are interesting as memorials of the circumstances under which they were written and published,--in both cases with death evidently at hand. but taking the two parts as one work, there appears to my own mind a more real division: a part written by paine's century, and another originating from himself. each of these has an important and traceable evolution. i. the first of these divisions may be considered, fundementally, as a continuation of the old revolution against arbitrary authority. carlyle's humor covers a profound insight when he remarks that paine, having freed america with his "common sense," was resolved to free this whole world, and perhaps the other! all the authorities were and are interdependent. "if thou release this man thou art not cæsar's friend," cried the priest to pilate. the proconsul must face the fact that in judea cæsarism rests on the same foundation with jahvism. authority leans on authority; none can stand alone. it is still a question whether political revolutions cause or are caused by religious revolutions. buckle maintained that the french revolution was chiefly due to the previous overthrow of spiritual authority; rocquain, that the political _régime_ was shaken before the philosophers arose.* in england religious changes seem to have usually followed those of a political character, not only in order of time, but in character. in beginning the "age of reason," paine says: * felix rocquain's fine work, l'esprit révolutionnaire avant la révolution," though not speculative, illustrates the practical nature of revolution,--an uncivilized and often retrograde form of evolution. "soon after i had published the pamphlet 'common sense' in america i saw the exceeding probability that a revolution in the system of government would be followed by a revolution in the system of religion. the adulterous connection of church and state, wherever it had taken place, whether jewish, christian, or turkish, had so effectually prohibited by pains and penalties every discussion upon established creeds, and upon first principles of religion, that until the system of government should be changed those subjects could not be brought fairly and openly before the world; but that whenever this should be done a revolution in the system of religion would follow. human inventions and priestcraft would be detected; and man would return to the pure, unmixed, and unadulterated belief of one god and no more." the historical continuity of the critical negations of paine with the past is represented in his title. the revolution of ,--the secular arm transferring the throne from one family to another,--brought the monarchical superstition into doubt; straightway the christian authority was shaken. one hundred years before paine's book, appeared charles blount's "oracles of reason." macaulay describes blount as the head of a small school of "infidels," troubled with a desire to make converts; his delight was to worry the priests by asking them how light existed before the sun was made, and where eve found thread to stitch her fig-leaves. but to this same blount, macaulay is constrained to attribute emancipation of the press in england. blount's title was taken up in america by ethan allen, leader of the "green mountain boys." allen's "oracles of reason" is forgotten; he is remembered by his demand ( ) for the surrender of fort ticonderoga, "in the name of jehovah and the continental congress." the last five words of this famous demand would have been a better title for the book. it introduces the nation to a jehovah qualified by the continental congress. ethan allen's deity is no longer a king of kings: arbitrariness has disappeared; men are summoned to belief in a governor administering laws inherent in the constitution of a universe co-eternal with himself, and with which he is interdependent. his administration is not for any divine glory, but, in anticipation of our constitutional preamble, to "promote the general welfare." the old puritan alteration in the lord's prayer, "thy commonwealth come!" would in allen's church have been "thy republic come!" that is, had he admitted prayer, which to an executive is of course out of place. it must not, however, be supposed that ethan allen is conscious that his system is inspired by the revolution. his book is a calm, philosophical analysis of new england theology and metaphysics; an attempt to clear away the ancient biblical science and set newtonian science in its place; to found what he conceives "natural religion." in editing his "account of arnold's campaign in quebec," john joseph henry says in a footnote that paine borrowed from allen. but the aged man was, in his horror of paine's religion, betrayed by his memory. the only connection between the books runs above the consciousness of either writer. there was necessarily some resemblance between negations dealing with the same narratives, but a careful comparison of the books leaves me doubtful whether paine ever read allen. his title may have been suggested by blount, whose "oracles of reason" was in the library of his assistant at bor-dentown, john hall. the works are distinct in aim, products of different religious climes. allen is occupied mainly with the metaphysical, paine with quite other, aspects of their common subject. there is indeed a conscientious originality in the freethinkers who successively availed themselves of the era of liberty secured by blount. collins, bolingbroke, hume, toland, chubb, woolston, tindal, middleton, annet, gibbon,--each made an examination for himself, and represents a distinct chapter in the religious history of england. annet's "free inquirer," aimed at enlightenment of the lower classes, proved that free thought was tolerated only as an aristocratic privilege; the author was pilloried, just thirty years before the cheapening of the "rights of man" led to paine's prosecution. probably morgan did more than any of the deists to prepare english ground for paine's sowing, by severely criticising the bible by a standard of civilized ethics, so far as ethics were civilized in the early eighteenth century. but none of these writers touched the deep chord of religious feeling in, the people. the english-speaking people were timid about venturing too much on questions which divided the learned, and were content to express their protest against the worldliness of the church and faithlessness to the lowly saviour, by following pietists and enthusiasts. the learned clergy, generally of the wealthy classes, were largely deistical, but conservative. they gradually perceived that the political and the theological authority rested on the same foundation. so between the deists and the christians there was, as leslie stephen says, a "comfortable compromise, which held together till wesley from one side, and thomas paine from another, forced more serious thoughts on the age."* * "history of english thought in the eighteenth century." while "the age of reason" is thus, in one aspect, the product of its time, the renewal of an old siege--begun far back indeed as celsus,--its intellectual originality is none the less remarkable. paine is more complete master of the comparative method than tindal in his "christianity as old as the creation." in his studies of "christian mythology" (his phrase), one is surprised by anticipations of baur and strauss. these are all the more striking by reason of his homely illustrations. thus, in discussing the liabilities of ancient manuscripts to manipulation, he mentions in his second part that in the first, printed less than two years before, there was already a sentence he never wrote; and contrasts this with the book of nature wherein no blade of grass can be imitated or altered.* he distinguishes the historical jesus from the mythical christ with nicety, though none had previously done this. he is more discriminating than the early deists in his explanations of the scriptural marvels which he discredits. there was not the invariable alternative of imposture with which the orthodoxy of his time had been accustomed to deal. he does indeed suspect moses with his rod of conjuring, and thinks no better of those who pretended knowledge of future events; but the incredible narratives are traditions, fables, and occasionally "downright lies." * the sentence imported into paine's part first is: "the book of luke was carried by one voice only." i find the words added as a footnote in the philadelphia edition, , p. . while paine in paris was utilizing the ascent of the footnote to his text, dr. priestley in pennsylvania was using it to show paine's untrustworthiness. ("letters to a philosophical unbeliever," p. .) but it would appear, though neither discovered it, that paine's critic was the real offender. in quoting the page, before answering it, priestley incorporated in the text the footnote of an american editor. priestley could not of course imagine such editorial folly, but all the same the reader may here see the myth-insect already building the paine mythology. "it is not difficult to discover the progress by which even simple supposition, with the aid of credulity, will in time grow into a lie, and at last be told as a fact; and wherever we can find a charitable reason for a thing of this kind we ought not to indulge a severe one." paine's use of the word "lies" in this connection is an archaism. carlyle told me that his father always spoke of such tales as "the arabian nights" as "downright lies"; by which he no doubt meant fables without any indication of being such, and without any moral. elsewhere paine uses "lie" as synonymous with "fabulous"; when he means by the word what it would now imply, "wilful" is prefixed. in the gospels he finds "inventions" of christian mythologists--tales founded on vague rumors, relics of primitive works of imagination mistaken for history,--fathered upon disciples who did not write them. his treatment of the narrative of christ's resurrection may be selected as an example of his method. he rejects paul's testimony, and his five hundred witnesses to christ's reappearance, because the evidence did not convince paul himself, until he was struck by lightning, or otherwise converted. he finds disagreements in the narratives of the gospels, concerning the resurrection, which, while proving there was no concerted imposture, show that the accounts were not written by witnesses of the events; for in this case they would agree more nearly. he finds in the narratives of christ's reappearances,--"suddenly coming in and going out when doors are shut, vanishing out of sight and appearing again,"--and the lack of details, as to his dress, etc., the familiar signs of a ghost-story, which is apt to be told in different ways. "stories of this kind had been told of the assassination of julius caesar, not many years before, and they generally have their origin in violent deaths, or in the execution of innocent persons. in cases of this kind compassion lends its aid, and benevolently stretches the story. it goes on a little and a little further, till it becomes a most certain truth. once start a ghost, and credulity fills up its life and assigns the cause of its appearance." the moral and religious importance of the resurrection would thus be an afterthought. the secrecy and privacy of the alleged appearances of christ after death are, he remarks, repugnant to the supposed end of convincing the world.* * in lessing set forth his "new hypothesis of the evangelists," that they had independently built on a basis derived from some earlier gospel of the hebrews,--a theory now confirmed by the recovered fragments of that lost memoir, collected by dr. nicholson of the bodleian library. it is tolerably certain that paine was unacquainted with lessing's work, when he became convinced, by variations in the accounts of the resurrection, that some earlier narrative "became afterwards the foundation of the four books ascribed to matthew, mark, luke, and john,"--these being, traditionally eye-witnesses. paine admits the power of the deity to make a revelation. he therefore deals with each of the more notable miracles on its own evidence, adhering to his plan of bringing the bible to judge the bible. such an investigation, written with lucid style and quaint illustration, without one timid or uncandid sentence, coming from a man whose services and sacrifices for humanity were great, could not have failed to give the "age of reason" long life, even had these been its only qualities. four years before the book appeared, burke said in parliament: "who, born within the last forty years, has read one word of collins, and toland, and tindal, and chubb, and morgan, and the whole race who call themselves freethinkers?" paine was, in one sense, of this intellectual pedigree; and had his book been only a digest and expansion of previous negative criticisms, and a more thorough restatement of theism, these could have given it but a somewhat longer life; the "age of reason" must have swelled burke's list of forgotten freethinking books. but there was an immortal soul in paine's book. it is to the consideration of this its unique life, which has defied the darts of criticism for a century, and survived its own faults and limitations, that we now turn. ii. paine's book is the uprising of the human heart against the religion of inhumanity. this assertion may be met with a chorus of denials that there was, or is, in christendom any religion of inhumanity. and, if thomas paine is enjoying the existence for which he hoped, no heavenly anthem would be such music in his ears as a chorus of stormiest denials from earth reporting that the religion of inhumanity is so extinct as to be incredible. nevertheless, the religion of inhumanity did exist, and it defended against paine a god of battles, of pomp, of wrath; an instigator of race hatreds and exterminations; an establisher of slavery; a commander of massacres in punishment of theological beliefs; a sender of lying spirits to deceive men, and of destroying angels to afflict them with plagues; a creator of millions of human beings under a certainty of their eternal torture by devils and fires of his own creation. this apotheosis of inhumanity is here called a religion, because it managed to survive from the ages of savagery by violence of superstition, to gain a throne in the bible by killing off all who did not accept its authority to the letter, and because it was represented by actual inhumanities. the great obstruction of science and civilization was that the bible was quoted in sanction of war, crusades against alien religions, murders for witchcraft, divine right of despots, degradation of reason, exaltation of credulity, punishment of opinion and unbiblical discovery, contempt of human virtues and human nature, and costly ceremonies before an invisible majesty, which, exacted from the means of the people, were virtually the offering of human sacrifices. there had been murmurs against this consecrated inhumanity through the ages, dissentients here and there; but the revolution began with paine. nor was this accidental. he was just the one man in the world who had undergone the training necessary for this particular work. the higher clergy, occupied with the old textual controversy, proudly instructing paine in hebrew or greek idioms, little realized their ignorance in the matter now at issue. their ignorance had been too carefully educated to even imagine the university in which words are things, and things the word, and the many graduations passed between thetford quaker meeting and the french convention. what to scholastics, for whom humanities meant ancient classics, were the murders and massacres of primitive tribes, declared to be the word and work of god? words, mere words. they never saw these things. but paine had seen that war-god at his work. in childhood he had seen the hosts of the defender of the faith as, dripping with the blood of culloden and inverness, they marched through thetford; in manhood he had seen the desolations wrought "by the grace of" that deity to the royal invader of america; he had seen the massacres ascribed to jahve repeated in france, while robespierre and couthon were establishing worship of an infra-human deity. by sorrow, poverty, wrong, through long years, amid revolutions and death-agonies, the stay-maker's needle had been forged into a pen of lightning. no oxonian conductor could avert that stroke, which was not at mere irrationalities, but at a huge idol worshipped with human sacrifices. the creation of the heart of paine, historically traceable, is so wonderful, its outcome seems so supernatural, that in earlier ages he might have been invested with fable, like some avatar. of some such man, no doubt, the hindu poets dreamed in their picture of young arguna (in the _bhagavatgita_). the warrior, borne to the battlefield in his chariot, finds arrayed against him his kinsmen, friends, preceptors. he bids his charioteer pause; he cannot fight those he loves. his charioteer turns: 't is the radiant face of divine chrishna, his saviour! even he has led him to this grievous contention with kinsmen, and those to whose welfare he was devoted. chrishna instructs his disciple that the war is an illusion; it is the conflict by which, from age to age, the divine life in the world is preserved. "this imperishable devotion i declared to the sun, the sun delivered it to manu, manu to ikshâku; handed down from one to another it was studied by the royal sages. in the lapse of time that devotion was lost. it is even the same discipline which i this day communicate to thee, for thou art my servant and my friend. both thou and i have passed through many births. mine are known to me; thou knowest not of thine. i am made evident by my own power: as often as there is a decline of virtue, and an insurrection of wrong and injustice in the world, i appear." paine could not indeed know his former births; and, indeed, each former self of his--wycliffe, fox, roger williams--was sectarianized beyond recognition. he could hardly see kinsmen in the unitarians, who were especially eager to disown the heretic affiliated on them by opponents; nor in the wesleyans, though in him was the blood of their apostle, who declared salvation a present life, free to all. in a profounder sense, paine was george fox. here was george fox disowned, freed from his accidents, naturalized in the earth and humanized in the world of men. paine is explicable only by the intensity of his quakerism, consuming its own traditions as once the church's ceremonies and sacraments. on him, in thetford meeting-house, rolled the burden of that light that enlighteneth every man, effacing distinctions of rank, race, sex, making all equal, clearing away privilege, whether of priest or mediator, subjecting all scriptures to its immediate illumination. this faith was a fearful heritage to carry, even in childhood, away from the quaker environment which, by mixture with modifying "survivals," in habit and doctrine, cooled the fiery gospel for the average tongue. the intermarriage of paine's father with a family in the english church brought the precocious boy's light into early conflict with his kindred, his little lamp being still fed in the meeting-house. a child brought up without respect for the conventional symbols of religion, or even with pious antipathy to them, is as if born with only one spiritual skin; he will bleed at a touch. "i well remember, when about seven or eight years of age, hearing a sermon read by a relation of mine, who was a great devotee of the church, upon the subject of what is called _redemption by the death of the son of god_. after the sermon was ended i went into the garden, and as i was going down the garden steps, (for i perfectly remember the spot), i revolted at the recollection of what i had heard, and thought to myself that it was making god almighty act like a passionate man, that killed his son when he could not revenge himself in any other way; and, as i was sure a man would be hanged that did such a thing, i could not see for what purpose they preached such sermons. this was not one of that kind of thoughts that had anything in it of childish levity; it was to me a serious reflection, arising from the idea i had, that god was too good to do such an action, and also too almighty to be under any necessity of doing it. i believe in the same manner at this moment; and i moreover believe that any system of religion that has anything in it which shocks the mind of a child, cannot be a true system." the child took his misgivings out into the garden; he would not by a denial shock his aunt cocke's faith as his own had been shocked. for many years he remained silent in his inner garden, nor ever was drawn out of it until he found the abstract dogma of the death of god's son an altar for sacrificing men, whom he reverenced as all god's sons. what he used to preach at dover and sandwich cannot now be known. his ignorance of greek and latin, the scholastic "humanities," had prevented his becoming a clergyman, and introduced him to humanities of another kind. his mission was then among the poor and ignorant.* * "old john berry, the late col. hay's servant, told me he knew paine very well when he was at dover--had heard him preach there--thought him a staymaker by trade."--w. weedon, of glynde, quoted in notes and queries (london), december , . sixteen years later he is in philadelphia, attending the english church, in which he had been confirmed. there were many deists in that church, whose laws then as now were sufficiently liberal to include them. in his "common sense" (published january , ) paine used the reproof of israel (i. samuel) for desiring a king. john adams, a unitarian and monarchist, asked him if he really believed in the inspiration of the old testament. paine said he did not, and intended at a later period to publish his opinions on the subject. there was nothing inconsistent in paine's believing that a passage confirmed by his own light was a divine direction, though contained in a book whose alleged inspiration throughout he did not accept. such was the quaker principle. before that, soon after his arrival in the country, when he found african slavery supported by the old testament, paine had repudiated the authority of that book; he declares it abolished by "gospel light," which includes man-stealing among the greatest crimes. when, a year later, on the eve of the revolution, he writes "common sense," he has another word to say about religion, and it is strictly what the human need of the hour demands. whatever his disbeliefs, he could never sacrifice human welfare to them, any more than he would, suffer dogmas to sacrifice the same. it would have been a grievous sacrifice of the great cause of republican independence, consequently, of religious liberty, had he introduced a theological controversy at the moment when it was of vital importance that the sects should rise above their partition-walls and unite for a great common end. the quakers, deistical as they were, preserved religiously the separatism once compulsory; and paine proved himself the truest friend among them when he was "moved" by the spirit of humanity, for him at length the holy spirit, to utter ( ) his brave cheer for catholicity. "as to religion, i hold it to be the indispensable duty of all governments to protect all conscientious professors thereof, and i know of no other business which government hath to do therewith. let a man throw aside that narrowness of soul, that selfishness of principle, which the niggards of all professions are so unwilling to part with, and he will be at once delivered of his fears on that head. suspicion is the companion of mean souls, and the bane of all good society. for myself, i fully and conscientiously believe, that it is the will of the almighty that there should be a diversity of religious opinions amongst us: it affords a larger field for our christian kindness. were we all of one way of thinking, our religious dispositions would want matter for probation; and, on this liberal principle, i look on the various denominations among us to be like children of the same family, differing only in what is called their christian names." there was no pedantry whatever about paine, this obedient son of humanity. he would defend man against men, against sects and parties; he would never quarrel about the botanical label of a tree bearing such fruits as the declaration of independence. but no man better knew the power of words, and that a botanical error may sometimes result in destructive treatment of the tree. for this reason he censured the quakers for opposing the revolution on the ground that, in the words of their testimony ( ), "the setting up and putting down kings and governments is god's peculiar prerogative." kings, he answers, are not removed by miracles, but by just such means as the americans were using. "oliver cromwell thanks you. charles, then, died not by the hands of man; and should the present proud imitator of him come to the same untimely end, the writers and publishers of the testimony are bound, by the doctrine it contains, to applaud the fact." he was then a christian. in his "epistle to quakers" he speaks of the dispersion of the jews as "foretold by our saviour." in his famous first _crisis_ he exhorts the americans not to throw "the burden of the day upon providence, but 'show your faith by your works,' that god may bless you." for in those days there was visible to such eyes as his, as to anti-slavery eyes in our civil war, "a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel." the republic, not american but human, became paine's religion. "divine providence intends this country to be the asylum of persecuted virtue from every quarter of the globe." so he had written before the declaration of independence. in he finds that there still survives some obstructive superstition among english churchmen in america about the connection of protestant christianity with the king. in his seventh _crisis_(november , ) he wrote sentences inspired by his new conception of religion. "in a christian and philosophical sense, mankind seem to have stood still at individual civilization, and to retain as nations all the original rudeness of nature.... as individuals we profess ourselves christians, but as nations we are heathens, romans, and what not. i remember the late admiral saunders declaring in the house of commons, and that in the time of peace, 'that the city of madrid laid in ashes was not a sufficient atonement for the spaniards taking off the rudder of an english sloop of war.'... the arm of britain has been spoken of as the arm of the almighty, and she has lived of late as if she thought the whole world created for her diversion. her politics, instead of civilizing, has tended to brutalize mankind, and under the vain unmeaning title of 'defender of the faith,' she has made war like an indian on the religion of humanity."' thus, forty years before auguste comte sat, a youth of twenty, at the feet of saint simon, learning the principles now known as "the religion of humanity,"* thomas paine had not only minted the name, but with it the idea of international civilization, in which nations are to treat each other as gentlemen in private life. national honor was, he said, confused with "bullying"; but "that which is the best character for an individual is the best character for a nation." the great and pregnant idea was, as in the previous instances, occasional. it was a sentence passed upon the "defender-of-the-faith" superstition, which detached faith from humanity, and had pressed the indian's tomahawk into the hands of jesus. * mr. thaddeus b. wakeman, an eminent representative of the "religion of humanity," writes me that he has not found this phrase in any work earlier than paine's _crisis_, vii. at the close of the american revolution there appeared little need for a religious reformation. the people were happy, prosperous, and, there being no favoritism toward any sect under the new state constitutions, but perfect equality and freedom, the religion of humanity meant sheathing of controversial swords also. it summoned every man to lend a hand in repairing the damages of war, and building the new nationality. paine therefore set about constructing his iron bridge of thirteen symbolic ribs, to overleap the ice-floods and quicksands of rivers. his assistant in this work, at bordentown, new jersey, john hall, gives us in his journal, glimpses of the religious ignorance and fanaticism of that region. but paine showed no aggressive spirit towards them. "my employer," writes hall ( ), "has _common sense_ enough to disbelieve most of the common systematic theories of divinity, but does not seem to establish any for himself." in all of his intercourse with hall (a unitarian just from england), and his neighbors, there is no trace of any disposition to deprive any one of a belief, or to excite any controversy. humanity did not demand it, and by that direction he left the people to their weekly toils and sunday sermons. but when ( ) he was in england, humanity gave another command. it was obeyed in the eloquent pages on religious liberty and equality in "the rights of man." burke had alarmed the nation by pointing out that the revolution in france had laid its hand on religion. the cry was raised that religion was in danger. paine then uttered his impressive paradox: "toleration is not the opposite of intoleration, but the counterfeit of it. both are despotisms. the one assumes the right of withholding liberty of conscience, and the other of granting it. the one is the pope armed with fire and faggot, the other is the pope selling or granting indulgences.... toleration by the same assumed authority by which it tolerates a man to pay his worship, presumptuously and blasphemously sets itself up to tolerate the almighty to receive it.... who then art thou, vain dust and ashes, by whatever name thou art called, whether a king, a bishop, a church or a state, a parliament or anything else, that obtrudest thine insignificance between the soul of man and his maker? mind thine own concerns. if he believes not as thou believest, it is a proof that thou believest not as he believeth, and there is no earthly power can determine between you.... religion, without regard to names, as directing itself from the universal family of mankind to the divine object of all adoration, is man bringing to his maker the fruits of his heart; and though these fruits may differ like the fruits of the earth, the grateful tribute of every one is accepted." this, which i condense with reluctance, was the affirmation which the religion of humanity needed in england. but when he came to sit in the french convention a new burden rolled upon him. there was marat with the bible always before him, picking out texts that justified his murders; there were robespierre and couthon invoking the god of nature to sanction just such massacres as marat found in his bible; and there were crude "atheists" consecrating the ferocities of nature more dangerously than if they had named them siva, typhon, or satan. paine had published the rights of man for men; but here human hearts and minds had been buried under the superstitions of ages. the great mischief had ensued, to use his own words, "by the possession of power before they understood principles: they earned liberty in words but not in fact" exhumed suddenly, as if from some nineveh, resuscitated into semi-conscious strength, they remembered only the methods of the allied inquisitors and tyrants they were overthrowing; they knew no justice but vengeance; and when on crumbled idols they raised forms called "nature" and "reason," old idols gained life in the new forms. these were the gods which had but too literally created, by the slow evolutionary force of human sacrifices, the new revolutionary priesthood. their massacres could not be questioned by those who acknowledged the divine hand in the slaughter of canaanites.* * on august , , there was a sort of communion of the convention around the statue of nature, whose breasts were fountains of water. hérault de séchelles, at that time president, addressed the statue: "sovereign of the savage and of the enlightened nations, o nature, this great people, gathered at the first beam of day before thee, is free! it is in thy bosom, it is in thy sacred sources, that it has recovered its rights, that it has regenerated itself after traversing so many ages of error and servitude: it must return to the simplicity of thy ways to rediscover liberty and equality. o nature! receive the expression of the eternal attachment of the french people for thy laws; and may the teeming waters gushing from thy breasts, may this pure beverage which refreshed the first human beings, consecrate in this cup of fraternity and equality the vows that france makes thee this day,--the most beautiful that the sun has illumined since it was suspended in the immensity of space." the cup passed around from lip to lip, amid fervent ejaculations. next year nature's breasts issued hérault's blood. the religion of humanity again issued its command to its minister. the "age of reason" was written, in its first form, and printed in french. "couthon," says lanthenas, "to whom i sent it, seemed offended with me for having translated it"* couthon raged against the priesthood, but could not tolerate a work which showed vengeance to be atheism, and compassion--not merely for men, but for animals--true worship of god. * the letter of lanthenas to merlin de thîonville, of which the original french is before me, is quoted in an article in scribner, september, , by hon. e. b. washbarne (former minister to france); it is reprinted in remsburg's compilation of testimonies: "thomas paine, the apostle of religions and political liberty" ( ). see also p. of this volume. on the other hand, paine's opposition to atheism would appear to have brought him into danger from another quarter, in which religion could not be distinguished from priestcraft. in a letter to samuel adams paine says that he endangered his life by opposing the king's execution, and "a second time by opposing atheism." those who denounce the "age of reason" may thus learn that red-handed couthon, who hewed men to pieces before his lord, and those who acknowledged no lord, agreed with them. under these menaces the original work was as i have inferred, suppressed. but the demand of humanity was peremptory, and paine re-wrote it all, and more. when it appeared he was a prisoner; his life was in couthon's hands. he had personally nothing to gain by its publication--neither wife, child, nor relative to reap benefit by its sale. it was published as purely for the good of mankind as any work ever written. nothing could be more simply true than his declaration, near the close of life: "as in my political works my motive and object have been to give man an elevated sense of his own character, and free him from the slavish and superstitious absurdity of monarchy and hereditary government, so, in my publications on religious subjects, my endeavors have been directed to bring man to a right use of the reason that god has given him; to impress on him the great principles of divine morality, justice, and mercy, and a benevolent disposition to all men, and to all creatures; and to inspire in him a spirit of trust, confidence and consolation, in his creator, unshackled by the fables of books pretending to be the word of god." it is misleading at the present day to speak of paine as an opponent of christianity. this would be true were christianity judged by the authorized formulas of any church; but nothing now acknowledged as christianity by enlightened christians of any denomination was known to him. in our time, when the humanizing wave, passing through all churches, drowns old controversies, floats the dogmas, till it seems ungenerous to quote creeds and confessions in the presence of our "orthodox" lovers of man--even "totally depraved" and divinely doomed man--the theological eighteenth century is inconceivable. could one wander from any of our churches, unless of the christian pagans or remote villagers (_pagani_), into those of the last century, he would find himself moving in a wilderness of cinders, with only the plaintive song of john and charles wesley to break the solitude. if he would hear recognition of the human jesus, on whose credit the crowned christ is now maintained, he would be sharply told that it were a sin to "know christ after the flesh," and must seek such recognition among those stoned as infidels. three noble and pathetic tributes to the man of nazareth are audible from the last century--those of rousseau, voltaire, and paine. from its theologians and its pulpits not one! should the tribute of paine be to-day submitted, without his name, to our most eminent divines, even to leading american and english bishops, beside any theological estimate of christ from the same century, the jesus of paine would be surely preferred. should our cultured christian of to-day press beyond those sectarian, miserable controversies of the eighteenth century, known to him now as cold ashes, into the seventeenth century, he would find himself in a comparatively embowered land; that is, in england, and in a few oases in america--like that of roger williams in rhode island. in england he would find brain and heart still in harmony, as in tillotson and south; still more in bishop jeremy taylor, "shakespeare of divines." he would hear this jeremy reject the notions of original sin and transmitted guilt, maintain the "liberty of prophesying," and that none should suffer for conclusions concerning a book so difficult of interpretation as the bible. in those unsophisticated years jesus and the disciples and the marys still wore about them the reality gained in miracle-plays. what paine need arise where poets wrote the creed, and men knew the jesus of whom thomas dekker wrote: "the best of men that e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer; a soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit, the first true gentleman that ever breathed." dean swift, whose youth was nourished in that living age, passed into the era of dismal disputes, where he found the churches "dormitories of the living as well as of the dead." some ten years before paine's birth the dean wrote: "since the union of divinity and humanity is the great article of our religion, 't is odd to see some clergymen, in their writings of divinity, wholly devoid of humanity." men have, he said, enough religion to hate, but not to love. had the dean lived to the middle of the eighteenth century he might have discovered exceptions to this holy heartlessness, chiefly among those he had traditionally feared--the socinians. these, like the magdalene, were seeking the lost humanity of jesus. he would have sympathized with wesley, who escaped from "dormitories of the living" far enough to publish the life of a socinian (firmin), with the brave apology, "i am sick of opinions, give me the life." but socianism, in eagerness to disown its bolder children, presently lost the heart of jesus, and when paine was recovering it the best of them could not comprehend his separation of the man from the myth. so came on the desiccated christianity of which emerson said, even among the unitarians of fifty years ago, "the prayers and even the dogmas of our church are like the zodiac of denderah, wholly insulated from anything now extant in the life and business of the people." emerson may have been reading paine's idea that christ and the twelve were mythically connected with sun and zodiac, this speculation being an indication of their distance from the jesus he tenderly revered. if paine rent the temple-veils of his time, and revealed the stony images behind them, albeit with rudeness, let it not be supposed that those forms were akin to the jesus and the marys whom skeptical criticism is re-incarnating, so that they dwell with us. outside paine's heart the christ of his time was not more like the jesus of our time than jupiter was like the prometheus he bound on a rock. the english christ was not the son of man, but a prince of dogma, bearing handcuffs for all who reasoned about him; a potent phantasm that tore honest thinkers from their families and cast them into outer darkness, because they circulated the works of paine, which reminded the clergy that the jesus even of their own bible sentenced those only who ministered not to the hungry and naked, the sick and in prison. paine's religious culture was english. there the brain had retreated to deistic caves, the heart had gone off to "salvationism" of the time; the churches were given over to the formalist and the politician, who carried divine sanction to the repetition of biblical oppressions and massacres by burke and pitt. and in all the world there had not been one to cry _sursum corda_ against the consecrated tyranny until that throb of paine's heart which brought on it the vulture. but to-day, were we not swayed by names and prejudices, it would bring on that prophet of the divine humanity, even the christian dove. soon after the appearance of part first of the "age of reason" it was expurgated of its negative criticisms, probably by some english unitarians, and published as a sermon, with text from job xi., : "canst thou by searching find out god? canst thou find out the almighty to perfection?" it was printed anonymously; and were its sixteen pages read in any orthodox church to-day it would be regarded as admirable. it might be criticised by left wings as somewhat old-fashioned in the warmth of its theism. it is fortunate that paine's name was not appended to this doubtful use of his work, for it would have been a serious misrepresentation.* * "a lecture on the existence and attributes of the deity, as deduced from a contemplation of his works. m,dcc,xcv." the copy in my possession is inscribed with pen: "this was j. joyce's copy, and noticed by him as paine's work." mr. joyce was a unitarian minister. it is probable that the suppression of paine's name was in deference to his outlawry, and to the dread, by a sect whose legal position was precarious, of any suspicion of connection with "painite" principles. that his religion of humanity took the deistical form was an evolutionary necessity. english deism was not a religion, but at first a philosophy, and afterwards a scientific generalization. its founder, as a philosophy, herbert of cherbury, had created the matrix in which was formed the quaker religion of the "inner light," by which paine's childhood was nurtured; its founder as a scientific theory of creation, sir isaac newton, had determined the matrix in which all unorthodox systems should originate. the real issue was between a sanctified ancient science and a modern science. the utilitarian english race, always the stronghold of science, had established the freedom of the new deism, which thus became the mould into which all unorthodoxies ran. from the time of newton, english and american thought and belief have steadily become unitarian. the dualism of jesus, the thousand years of faith which gave every soul its post in a great war between god and satan, without which there would have been no church, has steadily receded before a monotheism which, under whatever verbal disguises, makes the deity author of all evil. english deism prevailed only to be reconquered into alliance with a tribal god of antiquity, developed into the tutelar deity of christendom. and this evolution involved the transformation of jesus into jehovah, deity of a "chosen" or "elect" people. it was impossible for an apostle of the international republic, of the human brotherhood, whose father was degraded by any notion of favoritism to a race, or to a "first-born son," to accept a name in which foreign religions had been harried, and christendom established on a throne of thinkers' skulls. the philosophical and scientific deism of herbert and newton had grown cold in paine's time, but it was detached from all the internecine figure-heads called gods; it appealed to the reason of all mankind; and in that manger, amid the beasts, royal and revolutionary, was cradled anew the divine humanity. paine wrote "deism" on his banner in a militant rather than an affirmative way. he was aiming to rescue the divine idea from traditional degradations in order that he might with it confront a revolutionary atheism defying the celestial monarchy. in a later work, speaking of a theological book, "an antidote to deism," he remarks: "an antidote to deism must be atheism." so far as it is theological, the "age of reason" was meant to combat infidelity. it raised before the french the pure deity of herbert, of newton, and other english deists whose works were unknown in france. but when we scrutinize paine's positive theism we find a distinctive nucleus forming within the nebulous mass of deistical speculations. paine recognizes a deity only in the astronomic laws and intelligible order of the universe, and in the corresponding reason and moral nature of man. like kant, he was filled with awe by the starry heavens and man's sense of right*. the first part of the "age of reason" is chiefly astronomical; with those celestial wonders he contrasts such stories as that of samson and the foxes. "when we contemplate the immensity of that being who directs and governs the incomprehensible whole, of which the utmost ken of human sight can discover but a part, we ought to feel shame at calling such paltry stories the word of god." then turning to the atheist he says: "we did not make ourselves; we did not make the principles of science, which we discover and apply but cannot alter." the only revelation of god in which he believes is "the universal display of himself in the works of creation, and that repugnance we feel in ourselves to bad actions, and disposition to do good ones." "the only idea we can have of serving god, is that of contributing to the happiness of the living creation that god has made." * astronomy, as we know, he had studied profoundly. in early life he had studied astronomic globes, purchased at the cost of many a dinner, and the orrery(sp), and attended lectures at the royal society. in the "age of reason" he writes, twenty-one years before herschel's famous paper on the nebulae: "the probability is that each of those fixed stars is also a sun, round which another system of worlds or planets, though too remote for as to discover, performs its revolutions." it thus appears that in paine's theism the deity is made manifest, not by omnipotence, a word i do not remember in his theories, but in this correspondence of universal order and bounty with rçason and conscience, and the humane heart in later works this speculative side of his theism presented a remarkable zoroastrian variation. when pressed with bishop butler's terrible argument against previous deism,--that the god of the bible is no more cruel than the god of nature,--paine declared his preference for the persian religion, which exonerated the deity from responsibility for natural evils, above the hebrew which attributed such things to god. he was willing to sacrifice god's omnipotence to his humanity. he repudiates every notion of a devil, but was evidently unwilling to ascribe the unconquered realms of chaos to the divine being in whom he believed. thus, while theology was lowering jesus to a mere king, glorying in baubles of crown and throne, pleased with adulation, and developing him into an authorizor of all the ills and agonies of the world, so depriving him of his humanity, paine was recovering from the universe something like the religion of jesus himself. "why even of yourselves judge ye not what is right" in affirming the religion of humanity, paine did not mean what comte meant, a personification of the continuous life of our race*; nor did he merely mean benevolence towards all living creatures. * paine's friend and fellow-prisoner, anacharsis clootz, was the first to describe humanity as "l'Être supreme." he affirmed a religion based on the authentic divinity of that which is supreme in human nature and distinctive of it the sense of right, justice, love, mercy, is god himself in man; this spirit judges all things,--all alleged revelations, all gods. in affirming a deity too good, loving, just, to do what is ascribed to jahve, paine was animated by the same spirit that led the early believer to turn from heartless elemental gods to one born of woman, bearing in his breast a human heart. pauline theology took away this human divinity, and effected a restoration, by making the son of man jehovah, and commanding the heart back from its seat of judgment, where jesus had set it. "shall the clay say to the potter, why hast thou formed me thus?" "yes," answered paine, "if the thing felt itself hurt, and could speak." he knew as did emerson, whom he often anticipates, that "no god dare wrong a worm." the force of the "age of reason" is not in its theology, though this ethical variation of deism in the direction of humanity is of exceeding interest to students who would trace the evolution of avatars and incarnations. paine's theology was but gradually developed, and in this work is visible only as a tide beginning to rise under the fiery orb of his religious passion. for abstract theology he cares little. "if the belief of errors not morally bad did no mischief, it would make no part of the moral duty of man to oppose and remove them." he evinces regret that the new testament, containing so many elevated moral precepts, should, by leaning on supposed prophecies in the old testament, have been burdened with its barbarities. "it must follow the fate of its foundation." this fatal connection, he knows, is not the work of jesus; he ascribes it to the church which evoked from the old testament a crushing system of priestly and imperial power reversing the benign principles of jesus. it is this oppression, the throne of all oppressions, that he assails. his affirmations of the human deity are thus mainly expressed in his vehement denials. this long chapter must now draw to a close. it would need a volume to follow thoroughly the argument of this epoch-making book, to which i have here written only an introduction, calling attention to its evolutionary factors, historical and spiritual. such then was the new pilgrim's progress. as in that earlier prison, at bedford, there shone in paine's cell in the luxembourg a great and imperishable vision, which multitudes are still following. the book is accessible in many editions. the christian teacher of to-day may well ponder this fact. the atheists and secularists of our time are printing, reading, revering a work that opposes their opinions. for above its arguments and criticisms they see the faithful heart contending with a mighty apollyon, girt with all the forces of revolutionary and royal terrorism. just this one englishman, born again in america, confronting george iii. and robespierre on earth and tearing the like of them from the throne of the universe! were it only for the grandeur of this spectacle in the past paine would maintain his hold on thoughtful minds. but in america the hold is deeper than that. in this self-forgetting insurrection of the human heart against deified inhumanity there is an expression of the inarticulate wrath of humanity against continuance of the same wrong. in the circulation throughout the earth of the bible as the word of god, even after its thousand serious errors of translation are turned, by exposure, into falsehoods; in the deliverance to savages of a scriptural sanction of their tomahawks and poisoned arrows; in the diffusion among cruel tribes of a religion based on human sacrifice, after intelligence has abandoned it; in the preservation of costly services to a deity who "needs nothing at men's hands," beside hovels of the poor who need much; in an exemption of sectarian property from taxation which taxes every man to support the sects, and continues the alliance of church and state; in these things, and others--the list is long--there is still visible, however refined, the sting and claw of the apollyon against whom paine hurled his far-reaching dart. the "age of reason" was at first published in america by a religious house, and as a religious book. it was circulated in virginia by washington's old friend, parson weems. it is still circulated, though by supposed unbelievers, as a religious book, and such it is. its religion is expressed largely in those same denunciations which theologians resent. i have explained them; polite agnostics apologize for them, or cast paine over as a jonah of the rationalistic ship. but to make one expression more gentle would mar the work. as it stands, with all its violences and faults, it represents, as no elaborate or polite treatise could, the agony and bloody sweat of a heart breaking in the presence of crucified humanity. what dear heads, what noble hearts had that man seen laid low; what shrieks had he heard in the desolate homes of the condorcets, the brissots; what canaanite and midianite massacres had he seen before the altar of brotherhood, erected by himself! and all because every human being had been taught from his cradle that there is something more sacred than humanity, and to which man should be sacrificed. of all those mas-sacred thinkers not one voice remains: they have gone silent: over their reeking guillotine sits the gloating apollyon of inhumanity. but here is one man, a prisoner, preparing for his long silence. he alone can speak for those slain between the throne and the altar. in these outbursts of laughter and tears, these outcries that think not of literary style, these appeals from surrounding chaos to the starry realm of order, from the tribune of vengeance to the sun shining for all, this passionate horror of cruelty in the powerful which will brave a heartless heaven or hell with its immortal indignation,--in all these the unfettered mind may hear the wail of enthralled europe, sinking back choked with its blood, under the chain it tried to break. so long as a link remains of the same chain, binding reason or heart, paine's "age of reason" will live. it is not a mere book--it is a man's heart. chapter xii. friendships baron pichon, who had been a sinuous secretary of legation in america under genêt and fauchet, and attached to the foreign office in france under the directory, told george ticknor, in , that "tom paine, who lived in monroe's house at paris, had a great deal too much influence over monroe."* * "life of george ticknor," ii., p. . the baron, apart from his prejudice against republicanism (talleyrand was his master), knew more about american than french politics at the time of monroe's mission in france. the agitation caused in france by jay's negotiations in england, and rumors set afloat by their secrecy,--such secrecy being itself felt as a violation of good faith--rendered monroe's position unhappy and difficult. after paine's release from prison, his generous devotion to france, undiminished by his wrongs, added to the painful illness that reproached the convention's negligence, excited a chivalrous enthusiasm for him. the tender care of mr. and mrs. monroe for him, the fact that this faithful friend of france was in their house, were circumstances of international importance. of paine's fidelity to republican principles, and his indignation at their probable betrayal in england, there could be no doubt in any mind. he was consulted by the french executive, and was virtually the most important _attache_ of the united states legation. the "intrigue" of which thibaudeau had spoken, in convention, as having driven paine from that body, was not given to the public, but it was well understood to involve the american president. if paine's suffering represented in london washington's deference to england, all the more did he stand to france as a representative of those who in america were battling for the alliance. he was therefore a tower of strength to monroe. it will be seen by the subjoined letter that while he was monroe's guest it was to him rather than the minister that the foreign office applied for an introduction of a new consul to samuel adams, governor of massachusetts--a consul with whom paine was not personally acquainted. the general feeling and situation in france at the date of this letter (march th), and the anger at jay's secret negotiations in england, are reflected in it: "my dear friend,--mr. mozard, who is appointed consul, will present you this letter. he is spoken of here as a good sort of man, and i can have no doubt that you will find him the same at boston. when i came from america it was my intention to return the next year, and i have intended the same every year since. the case i believe is, that as i am embarked in the revolution, i do not like to leave it till it is finished, notwithstanding the dangers i have run. i am now almost the only survivor of those who began this revolution, and i know not how it is that i have escaped. i know however that i owe nothing to the government of america. the executive department has never directed either the former or the present minister to enquire whether i was dead or alive, in prison or in liberty, what the cause of the imprisonment was, and whether there was any service or assistance it could render. mr. monroe acted voluntarily in the case, and reclaimed me as an american citizen; for the pretence for my imprisonment was that i was a foreigner, born in england. "the internal scene here from the of may to the fall of robespierre has been terrible. i was shut up in the prison of the luxembourg eleven months, and i find by the papers of robespierre that have been published by the convention since his death, that i was designed for a worse fate. the following memorandum is in his own handwriting; 'démander que thomas paine soit décrété d'accusation pour les intérêts de l'amérique autant que de la france.' "you will see by the public papers that the successes of the french arms have been and continue to be astonishing, more especially since the fall of robespierre, and the suppression of the system of terror. they have fairly beaten all the armies of austria, prussia, england, spain, sardignia, and holland. holland is entirely conquered, and there is now a revolution in that country. "i know not how matters are going on your side the water, but i think everything is not as it ought to be. the appointment of g. morris to be minister here was the most unfortunate and the most injudicious appointment that could be made. i wrote this opinion to mr. jefferson at the time, and i said the same to morris. had he not been removed at the time he was i think the two countries would have been involved in a quarrel, for it is a fact, that he would either have been ordered away or put in arrestation; for he gave every reason to suspect that he was secretly a british emissary. "what mr. jay is about in england i know not; but is it possible that any man who has contributed to the independence of america, and to free her from the tyranny of the british government, can read without shame and indignation the note of jay to grenville? that the _united states has no other resource than in the justice and magnanimity of his majesty_, is a satire upon the declaration of independence, and exhibits [such] a spirit of meanness on the part of america, that, were it true, i should be ashamed of her. such a declaration may suit the spaniel character of aristocracy, but it cannot agree with manly character of a republican. "mr. mozard is this moment come for this letter, and he sets off directly.--god bless you, remember me among the circle of our friends, and tell them how much i wish to be once more among them. "thomas paine."* * mr. spofford, librarian of congress, has kindly copied this letter for me from the original, among the papers of george bancroft. there are indications of physical feebleness as well as haste in this letter. the spring and summer brought some vigor, but, as we have seen by monroe's letter to judge jones, he sank again and in the autumn seemed nearing his end. once more the announcement of his death appeared in england, this time bringing joy to the orthodox. from the same quarter, probably, whence issued, in , "intercepted correspondence from satan to citizen paine," came now ( ) a folio sheet: "glorious news for old england. the british lyon rous'd; or john bull for ever. "the fox has lost his tail the ass has done his braying, the devil has got tom paine." good-hearted as paine was, it must be admitted that he was cruelly persistent in disappointing these british obituaries. despite anguish, fever, and abscess--this for more than a year eating into his side,--he did not gratify those prayerful expectations by becoming a monument of divine retribution. nay, amid all these sufferings he had managed to finish part second of the "age of reason," write the "dissertation on government," and give the address before the convention, nevertheless when, in november, he was near death's door, there came from england tidings grievous enough to crush a less powerful constitution. it was reported that many of his staunchest old friends had turned against him on account of his heretical book. this report seemed to find confirmation in the successive volumes of gilbert wakefield in reply to the two parts of paine's book. wakefield held unitarian opinions, and did not defend the real fortress besieged by paine. he was enraged that paine should deal with the authority of the bible, and the orthodox dogmas, as if they were christianity, ignoring unorthodox versions altogether. this, however, hardly explains the extreme and coarse vituperation of these replies, which shocked wakefield's friends.* * "the office of 'castigation' was unworthy of our friend's talents, and detrimental to his purpose of persuading others. such a contemptuous treatment, even of an unfair disputant, was also too well calculated to depredate in the public estimation that benevolence of character by which mr. wakefield was so justly distinguished."--"life of gilbert wakefield," , ii., p. . although in his thirty-eighth year at this time, wakefield was not old enough to escape the _sequelæ_ of his former clericalism. he had been a fellow of jesus college, cambridge, afterwards had a congregation, and had continued his connection with the english church after he was led, by textual criticism, to adopt unitarian opinions. he had great reputation as a linguist, and wrote scriptural expositions and retranslations. but few read his books, and he became a tutor in a dissenting college at hackney, mainly under influence of the unitarian leaders, price and priestley. wakefield would not condescend to any connection with a dissenting society, and his career at hackney was marked by arrogant airs towards unitarians, on account of a university training, then not open to dissenters. he attacked price and priestley, his superiors in every respect, apart from their venerable position and services, in a contemptuous way; and, in fact, might be brevetted a prig, with a fondness for coarse phrases, sometimes printed with blanks. he flew at paine as if he had been waiting for him; his replies, not affecting any vital issue, were displays of linguistic and textual learning, set forth on the background of paine's page, which he blackened. he exhausts his large vocabulary of vilification on a book whose substantial affirmations he concedes; and it is done in the mean way of appropriating the credit of paine's arguments. gilbert wakefield was indebted to the excitement raised by paine for the first notice taken by the general public of anything he ever wrote. paine, however, seems to have been acquainted with a sort of autobiography which he had published in . in this book wakefield admitted with shame that he had subscribed the church formulas when he did not believe them, while indulging in flings at price, priestley, and others, who had suffered for their principles. at the same time there were some things in wakefield's autobiography which could not fail to attract paine: it severely attacked slavery, and also the whole course of pitt towards france. this was done with talent and courage. it was consequently a shock when gilbert wakefield's outrageous abuse of himself came to the invalid in his sick-room. it appeared to be an indication of the extent to which he was abandoned by the englishmen who had sympathized with his political principles, and to a large extent with his religious views. this acrimonious repudiation added groans to paine's sick and sinking heart, some of which were returned upon his socinian assailant, and in kind. this private letter my reader must see, though it was meant for no eye but that of gilbert wakefield. it is dated at paris, november , . "dear sir,--when you prudently chose, like a starved apothecary, to offer your eighteenpenny antidote to those who had taken my two-and-sixpenny bible-purge,* you forgot that although my dose was rather of the roughest, it might not be the less wholesome for possessing that drastick quality; and if i am to judge of its salutary effects on your infuriate polemic stomach, by the nasty things it has made you bring away, i think you should be the last man alive to take your own panacea. as to the collection of words of which you boast the possession, nobody, i believe, will dispute their amount, but every one who reads your answer to my 'age of reason' will wish there were not so many scurrilous ones among them; for though they may be very usefull in emptying your gallbladder they are too apt to move the bile of other people. * these were the actual prices of the books. "those of greek and latin are rather foolishly thrown away, i think, on a man like me, who, you are pleased to say, is 'the greatest ignoramus in nature': yet i must take the liberty to tell you, that wisdom does not consist in the mere knowledge of language, but of things. "you recommend me to _know myself_--a thing very easy to advise, but very difficult to practice, as i learn from your own book; for you take yourself to be a meek disciple of christ, and yet give way to passion and pride in every page of its composition. "you have raised an ant-hill about the roots of my sturdy oak, and it may amuse idlers to see your work; but neither its body nor its branches are injured by you; and i hope the shade of my civic crown may be able to preserve your little contrivance, at least for the season. "when you have done as much service to the world by your writings, and suffered as much for them, as i have done, you will be better entitled to dictate: but although i know you to be a keener politician than paul, i can assure you, from my experience of mankind, that you do not much commend the christian doctrines to them by announcing that it requires the labour of a learned life to make them understood. "may i be permitted, after all, to suggest that your truly vigorous talents would be best employed in teaching men to preserve their liberties exclusively,--leaving to that god who made their immortal souls the care of their eternal welfare. "i am, dear sir, "your true well-wisher, "tho. paine. "to gilbert wakefield, a. b." after a first perusal of this letter has made its unpleasant impression, the reader will do well to read it again. paine has repaired to his earliest norfolk for language appropriate to the coarser tongue of his nottinghamshire assailant; but it should be said that the offensive paragraph, the first, is a travesty of one written by wakefield. in his autobiography, after groaning over his books that found no buyers, a veritable "starved apothecary," wakefield describes the uneasiness caused by his pamphlet on "religious worship" as proof that the disease was yielding to his "potion." he says that "as a physician of spiritual maladies" he had seconded "the favourable operation of the first prescription,"--and so forth. paine, in using the simile, certainly allows the drugs and phials of his sick-room to enter it to a disagreeable extent, but we must bear in mind that we are looking over his shoulder. we must also, by the same consideration of its privacy, mitigate the letter's egotism. wakefield's ant-hill protected by the foliage, the "civic crown," of paine's oak which it has attacked,--gaining notice by the importance of the work it belittles,--were admirable if written by another; and the egotism is not without some warrant. it is the rebuke of a scarred veteran of the liberal army to the insults of a subaltern near twenty years his junior. it was no doubt taken to heart for when the agitation which gilbert wakefield had contributed to swell, and to lower, presently culminated in handcuffs for the circulators of paine's works, he was filled with anguish. he vainly tried to resist the oppression, and to call back the unitarians, who for twenty-five years continued to draw attention from their own heresies by hounding on the prosecution of paine's adherents.* * "but i would not forcibly suppress this book ["age of reason"]; much less would i punish (o my god, be such wickedness far from me, or leave me destitute of thy favour in the midst of this perjured and sanguinary generation!) much less would i punish, by fine or imprisonment, from any possible consideration, the publisher or author of these pages."--letter of gilbert wakefield to sir john scott, attorney general, . for evidence of unitarian intolerance see the discourse of w, j. fox on "the duties of christians towards deists" (collected works, vol. i.). in this discourse, october , , on the prosecution of carlile for publishing the "age of reason," mr. fox expresses his regret that the first prosecution should have been conducted by a unitarian. "goaded," he says, "by the calumny which would identify them with those who yet reject the saviour, they have, in repelling so unjust an accusation, caught too much of the tone of their opponents, and given the most undesirable proof of their affinity to other christians by that unfairness towards the disbeliever which does not become any christian." ultimately mr. fox became the champion of all the principles of "the age of reason" and "the rights of man." the prig perished; in his place stood a martyr of the freedom bound up with the work he had assailed. paine's other assailant, the bishop of llandaff, having bent before pitt, and episcopally censured the humane side he once espoused, gilbert wakefield answered him with a boldness that brought on him two years' imprisonment when he came out of prison ( ) he was received with enthusiasm by all of paine's friends, who had forgotten the wrong so bravely atoned for. had he not died in the same year, at the age of forty-five, gilbert wakefield might have become a standard-bearer of the freethinkers. paine's recovery after such prolonged and perilous suffering was a sort of resurrection. in april ( ) he leaves monroe's house for the country, and with the returning life of nature his strength is steadily recovered. what to the man whose years of anguish, imprisonment, disease, at last pass away, must have been the paths and hedgerows of versailles, where he now meets the springtide, and the more healing sunshine of affection! risen from his thorny bed of pain-- "the meanest floweret of the vale, the simplest note that swells the gale, the common sun, the air, the skies, to him are opening paradise." so had it been even if nature alone had surrounded him. but paine had been restored by the tenderness and devotion of friends. had it not been for friendship he could hardly have been saved. we are little able, in the present day, to appreciate the reverence and affection with which thomas paine was regarded by those who saw in him the greatest apostle of liberty in the world. elihu palmer spoke a very general belief when he declared paine "probably the most useful man that ever existed upon the face of the earth." this may sound wild enough on the ears of those to whom liberty has become a familiar drudge. there was a time when she was an ideal rachel, to win whom many years of terrible service were not too much; but now in the garish day she is our prosaic leah,--a serviceable creature in her way, but quite unromantic. in paris there were ladies and gentlemen who had known something of the cost of liberty,--colonel and mrs. monroe, sir robert and lady smith, madame lafayette, mr. and mrs. barlow, m. and madame de bonneville. they had known what it was to watch through anxious nights with terrors surrounding them. he who had suffered most was to them a sacred person. he had come out of the succession of ordeals, so weak in body, so wounded by american ingratitude, so sore at heart, that no delicate child needed more tender care. set those ladies and their charge a thousand years back in the poetic past, and they become morgan le fay, and the lady nimue, who bear the wounded warrior away to their avalon, there to be healed of his grievous hurts. men say their arthur is dead, but their love is stronger than death. and though the service of these friends might at first have been reverential, it had ended with attachment, so great was paine's power, so wonderful and pathetic his memories, so charming the play of his wit, so full his response to kindness. one especially great happiness awaited him when he became convalescent. sir robert smith, a wealthy banker in paris, made his acquaintance, and he discovered that lady smith was no other than "the little corner of the world," whose letters had carried sunbeams into his prison.* an intimate friendship was at once established with sir robert and his lady, in whose house, probably at versailles, paine was a guest after leaving the monroes. to lady smith, on discovering her, paine addressed a poem,--"the castle in the air to the little corner of the world": * sir robert smith (smythe in the peerage list) was born in , and married, first, miss blake of london ( ). the name of the second lady smith, paine's friend, before her marriage i have not ascertained. "in the region of clouds, where the whirlwinds arise, my castle of fancy was built; the turrets reflected the blue from the skies, and the windows with sunbeams were gilt. "the rainbow sometimes, in its beautiful state, enamelled the mansion around; and the figures that fancy in clouds can create supplied me with gardens and ground. "i had grottos, and fountains, and orange-tree groves, i had all that enchantment has told; i had sweet shady walks for the gods and their loves, i had mountains of coral and gold. "but a storm that i felt not had risen and rolled, while wrapped in a slumber i lay; and when i looked out in the morning, behold, my castle was carried away. "it passed over rivers and valleys and groves, the world it was all in my view; i thought of my friends, of their fates, of their loves, and often, full often, of you. "at length it came over a beautiful scene, that nature in silence had made; the place was but small, but't was sweetly serene, and chequered with sunshine and shade. "i gazed and i envied with painful good will, and grew tired of my seat in the air; when all of a sudden my castle stood still, as if some attraction were there. "like a lark from the sky it came fluttering down, and placed me exactly in view, when whom should i meet in this charming retreat this corner of calmness, but--you. "delighted to find you in honour and ease, i felt no more sorrow nor pain; but the wind coming fair, i ascended the breeze, and went back with my castle again." paine was now a happy man. the kindness that rescued him from death was followed by the friendship that beguiled him from horrors of the past. from gentle ladies he learned that beyond the age of reason lay the forces that defeat giant despair. "to reason [so he writes to lady smith] against feelings is as vain as to reason against fire: it serves only to torture the torture, by adding reproach to horror. all reasoning with ourselves in such cases acts upon us like the reasoning of another person, which, however kindly done, serves but to insult the misery we suffer. if reason could remove the pain, reason would have prevented it. if she could not do the one, how is she to perform the other? in all such cases we must look upon reason as dispossessed of her empire, by a revolt of the mind. she retires to a distance to weep, and the ebony sceptre of despair rules alone. all that reason can do is to suggest, to hint a thought, to signify a wish, to cast now and then a kind of bewailing look, to hold up, when she can catch the eye, the miniature shaded portrait of hope; and though dethroned, and can dictate no more, to wait upon us in the humble station of a handmaid." the mouth of the rescued and restored captive was filled with song. several little poems were circulated among his friends, but not printed; among them the following: "contentment; or, if you please, confession. _to mrs. barlow, on her pleasantly telling the author that, after writing against the superstition of the scripture religion, he was setting up a religion capable of more bigotry and enthusiasm, and more dangerous to its votaries--that of making a religion of love._ "o could we always live and love, and always be sincere, i would not wish for heaven above, my heaven would be here. "though many countries i have seen, and more may chance to see, my little corner of the world is half the world to me. "the other half, as you may guess, america contains; and thus, between them, i possess the whole world for my pains. "i'm then contented with my lot, i can no happier be; for neither world i 'm sure has got so rich a man as me. "then send no fiery chariot down to take me off from hence, but leave me on my heavenly ground-- this prayer is _common sense_. "let others choose another plan, i mean no fault to find; the true theology of man is happiness of mind." paine gained great favor with the french government and fame throughout europe by his pamphlet, "the decline and fall of the english system of finance," in which he predicted the suspension of the bank of england, which followed the next year. he dated the pamphlet april th, and the minister of foreign affairs is shown, in the archives of that office, to have ordered, on april th, a thousand copies. it was translated in all the languages of europe, and was a terrible retribution for the forged assignats whose distribution in france the english government had considered a fair mode of warfare. this translation "into all the languages of the continent" is mentioned by ralph broome, to whom the british government entrusted the task of answering the pamphlet.* as broome's answer is dated june th, this circulation in six or seven weeks is remarkable, the proceeds were devoted by paine to the relief of prisoners for debt in newgate, london.** * "observations on mr. paine's pamphlet," etc. broome escapes the charge of prejudice by speaking of "mr. paine, whose abilities i admire and deprecate in a breath." paine's pamphlet was also replied to by george chalmers ("oldys") who had written the slanderous biography. ** richard carlile's sketch of paine, p. . this large generosity to english sufferers appears the more characteristic beside the closing paragraph of paine's pamphlet, "as an individual citizen of america, and as far as an individual can go, i have revenged (if i may use the expression without any immoral meaning) the piratical depredations committed on american commerce by the english government. i have retaliated for france on the subject of finance: and i conclude with retorting on mr. pitt the expression he used against france, and say, that the english system of finance 'is en the verge, nay even in the gulf of bankruptcy.'" concerning the false french assignats forged in england, see louis blanc's "history of the revolution," vol. xii., p. . the concentration of this pamphlet on its immediate subject, which made it so effective, renders it of too little intrinsic interest in the present day to delay us long, especially as it is included in all editions of paine's works. it possesses, however, much biographical interest as proving the intellectual power of paine while still but a convalescent. he never wrote any work involving more study and mastery of difficult details. it was this pamphlet, written in paris, while "peter porcupine," in america, was rewriting the slanders of "oldys," which revolutionized cobbett's opinion of paine, and led him to try and undo the injustice he had wrought. it now so turned out that paine was able to repay all the kindnesses he had received. the relations between the french government and monroe, already strained, as we have seen, became in the spring of almost intolerable. the jay treaty seemed to the french so incredible that, even after it was ratified, they believed that the representatives would refuse the appropriation needed for its execution. but when tidings came that this effort of the house of representatives had been crushed by a menaced _coup d'état_, the ideal america fell in france, and was broken in fragments. monroe could now hardly have remained save on the credit of paine with the french. there was, of course, a fresh accession of wrath towards england for this appropriation of the french alliance. paine had been only the first sacrifice on the altar of the new alliance; now all english families and all americans in paris except himself were likely to become its victims. the english-speaking residents there made one little colony, and paine was sponsor for them all. his fatal blow at english credit proved the formidable power of the man whom washington had delivered up to robespierre in the interest of pitt. so paine's popularity reached its climax; the american legation found through him a _modus vivendi_ with the french government; the families which had received and nursed him in his weakness found in his intimacy their best credential. mrs. joel barlow especially, while her husband was in algeria, on the service of the american government, might have found her stay in paris unpleasant but for paine s friendship. the importance of his guarantee to the banker, sir robert smith, appears by the following note, written at versailles, august th: "citizen minister: the citizen robert smith, a very particular friend of mine, wishes to obtain a passport to go to hamburg, and i will be obliged to you to do him that favor. himself and family have lived several years in france, for he likes neither the government nor the climate of england. he has large property in england, but his banker in that country has refused sending him remittances. this makes it necessary for him to go to hamburg, because from there he can draw his money out of his banker's hands, which he cannot do whilst in france. his family remains in france.--_salut et fraternité._ "thomas paine." amid his circle of cultured and kindly friends paine had dreamed of a lifting of the last cloud from his life, so long overcast. his eyes were strained to greet that shining sail that should bring him a response to his letter of september to washington, in his heart being a great hope that his apparent wrong would be explained as a miserable mistake, and that old friendship restored. as the reader knows, the hope was grievously disappointed. the famous public letter to washington (august d), which was not published in france, has already been considered, in advance of its chronological place. it will be found, however, of more significance if read in connection with the unhappy situation, in which all of paine's friends, and all americans in paris, had been brought by the jay treaty. from their point of view the deliverance of paine to prison and the guillotine was only one incident in a long-planned and systematic treason, aimed at the life of the french republic. jefferson in america, and paine in france, represented the faith and hope of republicans that the treason would be overtaken by retribution and reversal. * soon after jefferson became president paine wrote to him, suggesting that sir robert's firm might be safely depended on as the medium of american financial transactions in europe. chapter xiii. theophilanthropy in the ever-recurring controversies concerning paine and his "age of reason" we have heard many triumphal claims. christianity and the church, it is said, have advanced and expanded, unharmed by such criticisms. this is true. but there are several fallacies implied in this mode of dealing with the religious movement caused by paine's work. it assumes that paine was an enemy of all that now passes under the name of christianity--a title claimed by nearly a hundred and fifty different organizations, with some of which (as the unitarians, universalists, broad church, and hick-site friends) he would largely sympathize. it further assumes that he was hostile to all churches, and desired or anticipated their destruction. such is not the fact. paine desired and anticipated their reformation, which has steadily progressed. at the close of the "age of reason" he exhorts the clergy to "preach something that is edifying, and from texts that are known to be true." "the bible of the creation is inexhaustible in texts. every part of science, whether connected with the geometry of the universe, with the systems of animal and vegetable life, or with the properties of inanimate matter, is a text for devotion as well as for philosophy--for gratitude as for human improvement. it will perhaps be said, that, if such a revolution in the system of religion takes place, every preacher ought to be a philosopher. _most certainly_. and every house of devotion a school of science. it has been by wandering, from the immutable laws of science, and the right use of reason, and setting up an invented thing called revealed religion, that so many wild and blasphemous conceits nave been formed of the almighty. the jews have made him the assassin of the human species, to make room for the religion of the jews. the christians have made him the murderer of himself, and the founder of a new religion, to supersede and expel the jewish religion. and to find pretence and admission for these things they must have supposed his power and his wisdom imperfect, or his will changeable; and the changeableness of the will is the imperfection of the judgment. the philosopher knows that the laws of the creator have never changed with respect either to the principles of science, or the properties of matter. why then is it to be supposed they have changed with respect to man?" to the statement that christianity has not been impeded by the "age of reason," it should be added that its advance has been largely due to modifications rendered necessary by that work. the unmodified dogmas are represented in small and eccentric communities. the advance has been under the christian name, with which paine had no concern; but to confuse the word "christianity" with the substance it labels is inadmissible. england wears the device of st. george and the dragon; but english culture has reduced the saint and dragon to a fable. the special wrath with which paine is still visited, above all other deists put together, or even atheists is a tradition from a so-called christianity which his work compelled to capitulate. that system is now nearly extinct, and the vendetta it bequeathed should now end. the capitulation began immediately with the publication of the bishop of llandaff's "apology for the bible," a title that did not fail to attract notice when it appeared ( ). there were more than thirty replies to paine, but they are mainly taken out of the bishop's "apology," to which they add nothing. it is said in religious encyclopedias that paine was "answered" by one and another writer, but in a strict sense paine was never answered, unless by the successive surrenders referred to. as bishop watson's "apology" is adopted by most authorities as the sufficient "answer," it may be here accepted as a representative of the rest. whether paine's points dealt with by the bishop are answerable or not, the following facts will prove how uncritical is the prevalent opinion that they were really answered. dr. watson concedes generally to paine the discovery of some "real difficulties" in the old testament, and the exposure, in the christian grove, of "a few unsightly shrubs, which good men had wisely concealed from public view" (p. ).* it is not paine that here calls some "sacred" things unsightly, and charges the clergy with concealing them--it is the bishop. among the particular and direct concessions made by the bishop are the following: * corey's edition. philadelphia, . . that moses may not have written every part of the pentateuch. some passages were probably written by later hands, transcribers or editors (pp. - , ). [if human reason and scholarship are admitted to detach any portions, by what authority can they be denied the right to bring all parts of the pentateuch, or even the whole bible, under their human judgment?] . the law in deuteronomy giving parents the right, under certain circumstances, to have their children stoned to death, is excused only as a "humane restriction of a power improper to be lodged with any parent" (p. ). [granting the bishop's untrue assertion, that the same "improper" power was arbitrary among the romans, gauls, and persians, why should it not have been abolished in israel? and if dr. watson possessed the right to call any law established in the bible "improper," how can paine be denounced for subjecting other things in the book to moral condemnation? the moral sentiment is not an episcopal prerogative.] . the bishop agrees that it is "the opinion of many learned men and good christians" that the bible, though authoritative in religion, is fallible in other respects, "relating the ordinary history of the times" (p. ). [what but human reason, in the absence of papal authority, is to draw the line between the historical and religious elements in the bible?] . it is conceded that "samuel did not write any part of the second book bearing his name, and only a part of the first" (p. ). [one of many blows dealt by this prelate at confidence in the bible.] . it is admitted that ezra contains a contradiction in the estimate of the numbers who returned from babylon; it is attributed to a transcriber's mistake of one hebrew figure for another (p. ). [paine's question here had been: "what certainty then can there be in the bible for anything"? it is no answer to tell him how an error involving a difference of , people may perhaps have occurred.] . it is admitted that david did not write some of the psalms ascribed to him (p. ). . "it is acknowledged that the order of time is not everywhere observed" [in jeremiah]; also that this prophet, fearing for his life, suppressed the truth [as directed by king zedekiah]. "he was under no obligation to tell the whole [truth] to men who were certainly his enemies and no good subjects of the king" (pp. , ). [but how can it be determined how much in jeremiah is the "word of god," and how much uttered for the casual advantage of himself or his king?] . it is admitted that there was no actual fulfilment of ezekie's prophecy, "no foot of man shall pass through it [egypt], nor foot of beast shall pass through it, for forty years" (p. ). . the discrepancies between the genealogies of christ, in matthew and luke, are admitted: they are explained by saying that matthew gives the genealogy of joseph, and luke that of mary; and that matthew commits "an error" in omitting three generations between joram and ozias (p. .) [paine had asked, why might not writers mistaken in the natural genealogy of christ be mistaken also in his celestial genealogy? to this no answer was attempted.] such are some of the bishop's direct admissions. there are other admissions in his silences and evasions. for instance, having elaborated a theory as to how the error in ezra might occur, by the close resemblance of hebrew letters representing widely different numbers, he does not notice nehemiah's error in the same matter, pointed out by paine,--a self-contradiction, and also a discrepancy with ezra, which could not be explained by his theory. he says nothing about several other contradictions alluded to by paine. the bishop's evasions are sometimes painful, as when he tries to escape the force of paine's argument, that paul himself was not convinced by the evidences of the resurrection which he adduces for others. the bishop says: "that paul had so far resisted the evidence which the apostles had given of the resurrection and ascension of jesus, as to be a persecutor of the disciples of christ, is certain; but i do not remember the place where he declares that he had not believed them." but when paul says, "i verily thought with myself that i ought to do many things contrary to the name of jesus of nazareth," surely this is inconsistent with his belief in the resurrection and ascension. paul declares that when it was the good pleasure of god "to reveal his son in me," immediately he entered on his mission. he "was not disobedient to the heavenly vision." clearly then paul had not been convinced of the resurrection and ascension until he saw christ in a vision. in dealing with paine's moral charges against the bible the bishop has left a confirmation of all that i have said concerning the christianity of his time. an "infidel" of to-day could need no better moral arguments against the bible than those framed by the bishop in its defence. he justifies the massacre of the canaanites on the ground that they were sacrificers of their own children to idols, cannibals, addicted to unnatural lust were this true it would be no justification; but as no particle of evidence is adduced in support of these utterly unwarranted and entirely fictitious accusations, the argument now leaves the massacre without any excuse at all. the extermination is not in the bible based on any such considerations, but simply on a divine command to seize the land and slay its inhabitants. no legal right to the land is suggested in the record; and, as for morality, the only persons spared in joshua's expedition were a harlot and her household, she having betrayed her country to the invaders, to be afterwards exalted into an ancestress of christ. of the cities destroyed by joshua it is said: "it was of jehovah to harden their hearts, to come against israel in battle, that he might utterly destroy them, that they might have no favor, but that he might destroy them, as jehovah commanded moses" (joshua xi., ). as their hearts were thus in jehovah's power for hardening, it may be inferred that they were equally in his power for reformation, had they been guilty of the things alleged by the bishop. with these things before him, and the selection of rahab for mercy above all the women in jericho--every woman slain save the harlot who delivered them up to slaughter--the bishop says: "the destruction of the canaanites exhibits to all nations, in all ages, a signal proof of god's displeasure against sin." the bishop rages against paine for supposing that the commanded preservation of the midianite maidens, when all males and married women were slain, was for their "debauchery." "prove this, and i will allow that moses was the horrid monster you make him--prove this, and i will allow that the bible is what you call it--'a book of lies, wickedness, and blasphemy'--prove this, or excuse my warmth if i say to you, as paul said to elymas the sorcerer, who sought to turn away sergius paulus from the faith, 'o full of all subtilty, and of all mischief, thou child of the devil, thou enemy of all righteousness, wilt thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the lord?'--i did not, when i began these letters, think that i should have been moved to this severity of rebuke, by anything you could have written; but when so gross a misrepresentation is made of god's proceedings, coolness would be a crime." and what does my reader suppose is the alternative claimed by the prelate's foaming mouth? the maidens, he declares, were not reserved for debauchery, but for slavery! little did the bishop foresee a time when, of the two suppositions, paine's might be deemed the more lenient. the subject of slavery was then under discussion in england, and the bishop is constrained to add, concerning this enslavement of thirty-two thousand maidens, from the massacred families, that slavery is "a custom abhorrent from our manners, but everywhere practised in former times, and still practised in countries where the benignity of the christian religion has not softened the ferocity of human nature." thus, jehovah is represented as not only ordering the wholesale murder of the worshippers of another deity, but an adoption of their "abhorrent" and inhuman customs. this connection of the deity of the bible with "the ferocity of human nature" in one place, and its softening in another, justified paine's solemn rebuke to the clergy of his time. "had the cruel and murderous orders with which the bible is filled, and the numberless torturing executions of men, women, and children, in consequence of those orders, been ascribed to some friend whose memory you revered, you would have glowed with satisfaction at detecting the falsehood of the charge, and gloried in defending his injured fame. it is because ye are sunk in the cruelty of superstition, or feel no interest in the honor of your creator, that ye listen to the horrid tales of the bible, or hear them with callous indifference." this is fundamentally what the bishop has to answer, and of course he must resort to the terrible _tu quoque_ of bishop butler, dr. watson says he is astonished that "so acute a reasoner" should reproduce the argument. "you profess yourself to be a deist, and to believe that there is a god, who created the universe, and established the laws of nature, by which it is sustained in existence. you profess that from a contemplation of the works of god you derive a knowledge of his attributes; and you reject the bible because it ascribes to god things inconsistent (as you suppose) with the attributes which you have discovered to belong to him; in particular, you think it repugnant to his moral justice that he should doom to destruction the crying and smiling infants of the canaanites. why do you not maintain it to be repugnant to his moral justice that he should suffer crying or smiling infants to be swallowed up by an earthquake, drowned by an inundation, consumed by fire, starved by a famine, or destroyed by a pestilence?" dr. watson did not, of course, know that he was following bishop butler in laying the foundations of atheism, though such was the case. as was said in my chapter on the "age of reason," this dilemma did not really apply to paine, his deity was inferred, despite all the disorders in nature, exclusively from its apprehensible order without, and from the reason and moral nature of man. he had not dealt with the problem of evil, except implicitly, in his defence of the divine goodness, which is inconsistent with the responsibility of his deity for natural evils, or for anything that would be condemned by reason and conscience if done by man. it was thus the christian prelate who had abandoned the primitive faith in the divine humanity for a natural deism, while the man he calls a "child of the devil" was defending the divine humanity. this then was the way in which paine was "answered," for i am not aware of any important addition to the bishop's "apology" by other opponents. i cannot see how any christian of the present time can regard it otherwise than as a capitulation of the system it was supposed to defend, however secure he may regard the christianity of to-day. it subjects the bible to the judgment of human reason for the determination of its authorship, the integrity of its text, and the correction of admitted errors in authorship, chronology, and genealogy; it admits the fallibility of the writers in matters of fact; it admits that some of the moral laws of the old testament are "improper" and others, like slavery, belonging to "the ferocity of human nature"; it admits the non-fulfilment of one prophet's prediction, and the self-interested suppression of truth by another; and it admits that "good men" were engaged in concealing these "unsightly" things. here are gates thrown open for the whole "age of reason." the unorthodoxy of the bishop's "apology" does not rest on the judgment of the present writer alone. if gilbert wakefield presently had to reflect on his denunciations of paine from the inside of a prison, the bishop of llandaff had occasion to appreciate paine's ideas on "mental lying" as the christian infidelity. the bishop, born in the same year ( ) with the two heretics he attacked--gibbon and paine--began his career as a professor of chemistry at cambridge ( ), but seven years later became regius professor of divinity there. his posthumous papers present a remarkable picture of the church in his time. in replying to gibbon he studied first principles, and assumed a brave stand against all intellectual and religious coercion. on the episcopal bench he advocated a liberal policy toward france. in undertaking to answer paine he became himself unsettled; and at the very moment when unsophisticated orthodoxy was hailing him as its champion, the sagacious magnates of church and state proscribed him. he learned that the king had described him as "impracticable"; with bitterness of soul he saw prelates of inferior rank and ability promoted over his head. he tried the effect of a political recantation, in one of his charges; and when williams was imprisoned for publishing the "age of reason," and gilbert wakefield for rebuking his "charge," this former champion of free speech dared not utter a protest. but by this servility he gained nothing. he seems to have at length made up his mind that if he was to be punished for his liberalism he would enjoy it. while preaching on "revealed religion" he saw the bishop of london shaking his head. in , five years before his death, he writes this significant note: "i have treated my divinity as i, twenty-five years ago, treated my chemical papers: i have lighted my fire with the labour of a great portion of my life."* * patrick henry's answer to the "age of reason" shared the like fate. "when, during the first two years of his retirement, thomas paine's 'age of reason' made its appearance, the old statesman was moved to write out a somewhat elaborate treatise in defence of the truth of christianity. this treatise it was his purpose to have published. 'he read the manuscript to his family as he progressed with it, and completed it a short time before his death' ( ). when it was finished, however, 'being diffident about his own work,' and impressed also by the great ability of the replies to paine which were then appearing in england, 'he directed his wife to destroy' what he had written. she 'complied literally with his directions,' and thus put beyond the chance of publication a work which seemed, to some who heard it, 'the most eloquent and unanswerable argument in defence of the bible which was ever written.'"--fontaine ms. quoted in tyler's "patrick henry." next to the "age of reason," the book that did most to advance paine's principles in england was, as i believe, dr. watson's "apology for the bible." dean swift had warned the clergy that if they began to reason with objectors to the creeds they would awaken skepticism. dr. watson fulfilled this prediction. he pointed out, as gilbert wakefield did, some exegetical and verbal errors in paine's book, but they no more affected its main purpose and argument than the grammatical mistakes in "common sense" diminished its force in the american revolution. david dale, the great manufacturer at paisley, distributed three thousand copies of the "apology" among his workmen. the books carried among them extracts from paine, and the bishop's admissions. robert owen married dale's daughter, and presently found the paisley workmen a ripe harvest for his rationalism and radicalism. thus, in the person of its first clerical assailant, began the march of the "age of reason" in england. in the bishop's humiliations for his concessions to truth, were illustrated what paine had said of his system's falsity and fraudulence. after the bishop had observed the bishop of london manifesting disapproval of his sermon on "revealed religion" he went home and wrote: "what is this thing called orthodoxy, which mars the fortunes of honest men? it is a sacred thing to which every denomination of christians lays exclusive claim, but to which no man, no assembly of men, since the apostolic age, can prove a title." there is now a bishop of london who might not acknowledge the claim even for the apostolic age. the principles, apart from the particular criticisms, of paine's book have established themselves in the english church. they were affirmed by bishop wilson in clear language: "christian duties are founded on reason, not on the sovereignty of god commanding what he pleases: god cannot command us what is not fit to be believed or done, all his commands being founded in the necessities of our nature." it was on this principle that paine declared that things in the bible, "not fit to be believed or done," could not be divine commands. his book, like its author, was outlawed, but men more heretical are now buried in westminster abbey, and the lost bones of thomas paine are really reposing in those tombs. it was he who compelled the hard and heartless bibliolatry of his time to repair to illiterate conventicles, and the lovers of humanity, true followers of the man of nazareth, to abandon the crumbling castle of dogma, preserving its creeds as archaic bric-a-brac. as his "rights of man" is now the political constitution of england, his "age of reason" is in the growing constitution of its church,--the most powerful organization in christendom because the freest and most inclusive. the excitement caused in england by the "age of reason," and the large number of attempted replies to it, were duly remarked by the _moniteur_ and other french journals. the book awakened much attention in france, and its principles were reproduced in a little french book entitled: "manuel des théoantropophiles." this appeared in september, . in january, , paine, with five families, founded in paris the church of theo-philanthropy,--a word, as he stated in a letter to erskine "compounded of three greek words, signifying god, love, and man. the explanation given to this word is _lovers of god and man, or adorers of god and friends of man._" the society opened "in the street denis, no. , corner of lombard street." "the theophilanthropists believe in the existence of god, and the immortality of the soul." the inaugural discourse was given by paine. it opens with these words: "religion has two principal enemies, fanaticism and infidelity, or that which is called atheism. the first requires to be combated by reason and morality, the other by natural philosophy." the discourse is chiefly an argument for a divine existence based on motion, which, he maintains, is not a property of matter. it proves a being "at the summit of all things." at the close he says: "the society is at present in its infancy, and its means are small; but i wish to hold in view the subject i allude to, and instead of teaching the philosophical branches of learning as ornamental branches only, as they have hitherto been taught, to teach them in a manner that shall combine theological knowledge with scientific instruction. to do this to the best advantage, some instruments will be necessary for the purpose of explanation, of which the society is not yet possessed. but as the views of the society extend to public good, as well as to that of the individual, and as its principles can have no enemies, means may be devised to procure them. if we unite to the present instruction a series of lectures on the ground i have mentioned, we shall, in the first place, render theology the most entertaining of all studies. in the next place, we shall give scientific instruction to those who could not otherwise obtain it. the mechanic of every profession will there be taught the mathematical principles necessary to render him proficient in his art. the cultivator will there see developed the principles of vegetation; while, at the same time, they will be led to see the hand of god in all these things." a volume of pages put forth at the close of the year shows that the theophilanthropists sang theistic and humanitarian hymns, and read odes; also that ethical readings were introduced from the bible, and from the chinese, hindu, and greek authors. a library was established (rue neuve-etienne-l'estrapade, no. ) at which was issued ( ), "instruction Élémentaire sur la morale religieuse,"--this being declared to be morality based on religion. { } thus paine, pioneer in many things, helped to found the first theistic and ethical society. it may now be recognized as a foundation of the religion of humanity. it was a great point with paine that belief in the divine existence was the one doctrine common to all religions. on this rock the church of man was to be built having vainly endeavored to found the international republic he must repair to an ideal moral and human world. robespierre and pitt being unfraternal he will bring into harmony the sages of all races. it is a notable instance of paine's unwillingness to bring a personal grievance into the sacred presence of humanity that one of the four festivals of theophilanthropy was in honor of washington, while its catholicity was represented in a like honor to st. vincent de paul. the others so honored were socrates and rousseau. these selections were no doubt mainly due to the french members, but they could hardly have been made without paine's agreement. it is creditable to them all that, at a time when france believed itself wronged by washington, his services to liberty should alone have been remembered. the flowers of all races, as represented in literature or in history, found emblematic association with the divine life in nature through the flowers that were heaped on a simple altar, as they now are in many churches and chapels. the walls were decorated with ethical mottoes, enjoining domestic kindness and public benevolence. paine's pamphlet of this year ( ) on "agrarian justice" should be considered part of the theophil-anthropic movement. it was written as a proposal to the french government, at a time when readjustment of landed property had been rendered necessary by the revolution.* * "thomas payne à la législature et au directoire: ou la justice agraire opposée à la loi et aux privilèges agraires." it was suggested by a sermon printed by the bishop of llandaff, on "the wisdom and goodness of god in having made both rich and poor." paine denies that god made rich and poor: "he made only male and female, and gave them the earth for their inheritance." the earth, though naturally the equal possession of all, has been necessarily appropriated by individuals, because their improvements, which alone render its productiveness adequate to human needs, cannot be detached from the soil. paine maintains that these private owners do nevertheless owe mankind ground-rent. he therefore proposes a tithe,--not for god, but for man. he advises that at the time when the owner will feel it least,--when property is passing by inheritance from one to another,--the tithe shall be taken from it. personal property also owes a debt to society, without which wealth could not exist,--as in the case of one alone on an island. by a careful estimate he estimates that a tithe on inheritances would give every person, on reaching majority, fifteen pounds, and after the age of fifty an annuity of ten pounds, leaving a substantial surplus for charity. the practical scheme submitted is enforced by practical rather than theoretical considerations. property is always imperilled by poverty, especially where wealth and splendor have lost their old fascinations, and awaken emotions of disgust. "to remove the danger it is necessary to remove the antipathies, and this can only be done by making property productive of a national blessing, extending to every individual when the riches of one man above another shall increase the national fund in the same proportion; when it shall be seen that the prosperity of that fund depends on the prosperity of individuals; when the more riches a man acquires, the better it shall be for the general mass; it is then that antipathies will cease, and property be placed on the permanent basis of national interest and protection. "i have no property in france to become subject to the plan i propose. what i have, which is not much, is in the united states of america. but i will pay one hundred pounds sterling towards this fund in france, the instant it shall be established; and i will pay the same sum in england, whenever a similar establishment shall take place in that country." the tithe was to be given to rich and poor alike, including owners of the property tithed, in order that there should be no association of alms with this "agrarian justice." about this time the priesthood began to raise their heads again. a report favorable to a restoration to them of the churches, the raising of bells, and some national recognition of public worship, was made by camille jordan for a committee on the subject the jesuitical report was especially poetical about church bells, which paine knew would ring the knell of the republic. he wrote a theophilanthropic letter to camille jordan, from which i quote some paragraphs. "you claim a privilege incompatible with the constitution, and with rights. the constitution protects equally, as it ought to do, every profession of religion; it gives no exclusive privilege to any. the churches are the common property of all the people; they are national goods, and cannot be given exclusively to any one profession, because the right does not exist of giving to any one that which appertains to all. it would be consistent with right that the churches should be sold, and the money arising therefrom be invested as a fund for the education of children of poor parents of every profession, and, if more than sufficient for this purpose, that the surplus be appropriated to the support of the aged poor. after this every profession can erect its own place of worship, if it choose--support its own priests, if it choose to have any--or perform its worship without priests, as the quakers do." "it is a want of feeling to talk of priests and bells whilst so many infants are perishing in the hospitals, and aged and infirm poor in the streets. the abundance that france possesses is sufficient for every want, if rightly applied; but priests and bells, like articles of luxury, ought to be the least articles of consideration." "no man ought to make a living by religion. it is dishonest to do so. religion is not an act that can be performed by proxy. one person cannot act religion for another. every person must perform it for himself; and all that a priest can do is to take from him; he wants nothing but his money, and then to riot in the spoil and laugh at his credulity. the only people who, as a professional sect of christians, provide for the poor of their society, are people known by the name of quakers. these men have no priests. they assemble quietly in their places of worship, and do not disturb their neighbors with shows and noise of bells. religion does not unite itself to show and noise. true religion is without either.' "one good schoolmaster is of more use than a hundred priests. if we look back at what was the condition of france under the _ancien régime_ we cannot acquit the priests of corrupting the morals of the nation." "why has the revolution of france been stained with crimes, while the revolution of the united states of america was not? men are physically the same in all countries; it is education that makes them different. accustom a people to believe that priests, or any other class of men, can forgive sins, and you will have sins in abundance." while thomas paine was thus founding; in paris a religion of love to god expressed in love to man, his enemies in england were illustrating by characteristic fruits the dogmas based on a human sacrifice. the ascendency of the priesthood of one church over others, which he was resisting in france, was exemplified across the channel in the prosecution of his publisher, and the confiscation of a thousand pounds which had somehow fallen due to paine.* the "age of reason," amply advertised by its opponents, had reached a vast circulation, and a prosecution of its publisher, thomas williams, for blasphemy, was instituted in the king's bench. williams being a poor man, the defence was sustained by a subscription.** * this loss, mentioned by paine in a private note, occurred about the time when he had devoted the proceeds of his pamphlet on english finance, a very large sum, to prisoners held for debt in newgate. i suppose the thousand pounds were the proceeds of the "age of reason." ** subscriptions (says his circular) will be received by j. ashley, shoemaker, no. high holborn; c. cooper, grocer, new compton st., soho; g. wilkinson, printer, no. shoreditch; j. rhynd, printer, ray st., clerkenwell; r. hodgson, hatter, no. brook st., holborn. it will be observed that the defence of free printing had fallen to humble people. the trial occurred june th. the extent to which the english reign of terror had gone was shown in the fact that erskine was now the prosecutor; he who five years before had defended the "rights of man," who had left the court in a carriage drawn by the people, now stood in the same room to assail the most sacred of rights. he began with a menace to the defendant's counsel (s. kyd) on account of a notice served on the prosecution, foreshadowing a search into the scriptures.* * "the king v. thomas williams for blasphemy.--take notice that the prosecutors of the indictment against the above named defendant will upon the trial of this cause be required to produce a certain book described in the said indictment to be the holy bible.--john martin. solicitor for the defendant. dated the th day of june ." "no man," he cried, "deserves to be upon the rolls of the court who dares, as an attorney, to put his name to such a notice. it is an insult to the authority and dignity of the court of which he is an officer; since it seems to call in question the very foundations of its jurisdiction." so soon did erskine point the satire of the fable he quoted from lucian, in paine's defence, of jupiter answering arguments with thunderbolts. erskine's argument was that the king had taken a solemn oath "to maintain the christian religion as it is promulgated by god in the holy scriptures." "every man has a right to investigate, with modesty and decency, controversial points of the christian religion; but no man, consistently with a law which only exists under its sanction, has a right not only broadly to deny its very existence, but to pour forth a shocking and insulting invective, etc." the law, he said, permits, by a like principle, the intercourse between the sexes to be set forth in plays and novels, but punishes such as "address the imagination in a manner to lead the passions into dangerous excesses." erskine read several passages from the "age of reason," which, their main point being omitted, seemed mere aimless abuse. in his speech, he quoted as paine's words of his own collocation, representing the author as saying, "the bible teaches nothing but 'lies, obscenity, cruelty, and injustice.'" this is his entire and inaccurate rendering of what paine,--who always distinguishes the "bible" from the "new testament,"--says at the close of his comment on the massacre of the midianites and appropriation of their maidens: "people in general know not what wickedness there is in this pretended word of god. brought up in habits of superstition, they take it for granted that the bible [old testament] is true, and that it is good; they permit themselves not to doubt it; and they carry the ideas they form of the benevolence of the almighty to the book they have been taught to believe was written by his authority. good heavens! it is quite another thing! it is a book of lies, wickedness, and blasphemy; for what can be greater blasphemy than to ascribe the wickedness of man to the orders of the almighty?" erskine argued that the sanction of law was the oath by which judges, juries, witnesses administered law and justice under a belief in "the revelation of the unutterable blessings which shall attend their observances, and the awful punishments which shall await upon their transgressions." the rest of his opening argument was, mainly, that great men had believed in christianity. mr. kyd, in replying, quoted from the bishop of llandaff's "answer to gibbon": "i look upon the right of private judgment, in every respect concerning god and ourselves, as superior to the control of human authority"; and his claim that the church of england is distinguished from mahometanism and romanism by its permission of every man to utter his opinion freely. he also cites dr. lardner, and dr. waddington, the bishop of chichester, who declared that woolston "ought not to be punished for being an infidel, nor for writing against the christian religion." he quoted paine's profession of faith on the first page of the incriminated book: "i believe in one god and no more; i hope for happiness, beyond this life; i believe in the equality of men, and i believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavouring to make our fellow creatures happy." he also quoted paine's homage to the character of jesus. he defied the prosecution to find in the "age of reason" a single passage "inconsistent with the most chaste, the most correct system of morals," and declared the very passages selected for indictment pleas against obscenity and cruelty. mr. kyd pointed out fourteen narratives in the bible (such as sarah giving hagar to abraham, lot and his daughters, etc.) which, if found in any other book, would be pronounced obscene. he was about to enumerate instances of cruelty when the judge, lord kenyon, indignantly interrupted him, and with consent of the jury said he could only allow him to cite such passages without reading them. (mr. kyd gratefully acknowledged this release from the "painful task" of reading such horrors from the "word of god"!) one of the interesting things about this trial was the disclosure of the general reliance on butler's "analogy," used by bishop watson in his reply to paine,--namely, that the cruelties objected to in the god of the bible are equally found in nature, through which deists look up to their god. when kyd, after quoting from bishop watson, said, "gentlemen, observe the weakness of this answer," lord kenyon exclaimed: "i cannot sit in this place and hear this kind of discussion." kyd said: "my lord, i stand here on the privilege of an advocate in an english court of justice: this man has applied to me to defend him; i have undertaken his defence; and i have often heard your lordship declare, that every man had a right to be defended. i know no other mode by which i can seriously defend him against this charge, than that which i am now pursuing; if your lordship wish to prevent me from pursuing it, you may as well tell me to abandon my duty to my client at once." lord kenyon said: "go on, sir." returning to the analogy of the divinely ordered massacres in the bible with the like in nature, kyd said: "gentlemen, this is reasoning by comparison; and reasoning by comparison is often fallacious. on the present occasion the fallacy is this: that, in the first case, the persons perish by the operation of the general laws of nature, not suffering punishment for a crime; whereas, in the latter, the general laws of nature are suspended or transgressed, and god commands the slaughter to avenge his offended will. is this then a satisfactory answer to the objection? i think it is not; another may think so too; which it may be fairly supposed the author did; and then the objection, as to him, remains in full force, and he cannot, from insisting upon it, be fairly accused of malevolent intention." in his answer erskine said: "the history of man is the history of man's vices and passions, which could not be censured without adverting to their existence; many of the instances that have been referred to were recorded as memorable warnings and examples for the instruction of mankind." but for this argument erskine was indebted to his old client, paine, who did not argue against the things being recorded, but against the belief "that the inhuman and horrid butcheries of men, women, and children, told of in those books, were done, as those books say they were done, at the command of god." paine says: "those accounts are nothing to us, nor to any other persons, unless it be to the jews, as a part of the history of their nation; and there is just as much of the word of god in those books as there is in any of the histories of france, or rapin's 'history of england,' or the history of any other country." as in paines own trial in , the infallible scheme of a special jury was used against williams. lord kenyon closed his charge with the words: "unless it was for the most malignant purposes, i cannot conceive how it was published. it is, however, for you to judge of it, and to do justice between the public and the defendant." "the jury instantly found the defendant--guilty." paine at once wrote a letter to erskine, which was first printed in paris. he calls attention to the injustice of the special jury system, in which all the jurymen are nominated by the crown. in london a special jury generally consists of merchants. "talk to some london merchants about scripture, and they will understand you mean scrip, and tell you how much it is worth at the stock exchange. ask them about theology, and they will say they know no such gentleman upon 'change." he also declares that lord kenyon's course in preventing mr. kyd from reading passages from the bible was irregular, and contrary to words, which he cites, used by the same judge in another case. this letter to erskine contains some effective passages. in one of these he points out the sophistical character of the indictment in declaring the "age of reason" a blasphemous work, tending to bring in contempt the holy scriptures. "the charge should have stated that the work was intended to prove certain books not the holy scriptures. it is one thing if i ridicule a work as being written by a certain person; but it is quite a different thing if i write to prove that such a work was not written by such person. in the first case i attack the person through the work; in the other case i defend the honour of the person against the work." after alluding to the two accounts in genesis of the creation of man, according to one of which there was no garden of eden and no forbidden tree, paine says: "perhaps i shall be told in the cant language of the day, as i have often been told by the bishop of llandaff and others, of the great and laudable pains that many pious and learned men have taken to explain the obscure, and reconcile the contradictory, or, as they say, the seemingly contradictory passages of the bible. it is because the bible needs such an undertaking, that is one of the first causes to suspect it is _not_ the word of god: this single reflection, when carried home to the mind, is in itself a volume. what! does not the creator of the universe, the fountain of all wisdom, the origin of all science, the author of all knowledge, the god of order and of harmony, know how to write? when we contemplate the vast economy of the creation, when we behold the unerring regularity of the visible solar system, the perfection with which all its several parts revolve, and by corresponding assemblage form a whole;--when we launch our eye into the boundless ocean of space, and see ourselves surrounded by innumerable worlds, not one of which varies from its appointed place--when we trace the power of a creator, from a mite to an elephant, from an atom to an universe, can we suppose that the mind [which] could conceive such a design, and the power that executed it with incomparable perfection, cannot write without inconsistence; or that a book so written can be the work of such a power? the writings of thomas paine, even of thomas paine, need no commentator to explain, compound, arrange, and re-arrange their several parts, to render them intelligible--he can relate a fact, or write an essay, without forgetting in one page what he has written in another; certainly then, did the god of all perfection condescend to write or dictate a book, that book would be as perfect as himself is perfect: the bible is not so, and it is confessedly not so, by the attempts to mend it." paine admonishes erskine that a prosecution to preserve god's word, were it really god's word, would be like a prosecution to prevent the sun from falling out of heaven; also that he should be able to comprehend that the motives of those who declare the bible not god's word are religious. he then gives him an account of the new church of theophilanthropists in paris, and appends his discourse before that society. in the following year, paine's discourse to the theophilanthropists was separately printed by clio rickman, with a sentence from shakespeare in the title-page: "i had as lief have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment" there was also the following dedication: "the following little discourse is dedicated to the enemies of thomas paine, by one who has known him long and intimately, and who is convinced that he is the enemy of no man. it is printed to do good, by a well wisher to the world. by one who thinks that discussion should be unlimited, that all coercion is error; and that human beings should adopt no other conduct towards each other but an appeal to truth and reason." paine wrote privately, in the same sense as to erskine, to his remonstrating friends. in one such letter (may th) he goes again partly over the ground. "you," he says, "believe in the bible from the accident of birth, and the turks believe in the koran from the same accident, and each calls the other _infidel_. this answer to your letter is not written for the purpose of changing your opinion. it is written to satisfy you, and some other friends whom i esteem, that my disbelief of the bible is founded on a pure and religious belief in god." "all are infidels who believe falsely of god." "belief in a cruel god makes a cruel man." paine had for some time been attaining unique fame in england. some publisher had found it worth while to issue a book, entitled "tom paine's jests: being an entirely new and select collection of patriotic bon mots, repartees, anecdotes, epigrams, &c, on political subjects. by thomas paine." there are hardly a half dozen items by paine in the book ( pages), which shows that his name was considered marketable. the government had made the author a cause. erskine, who had lost his office as attorney-general for the prince of wales by becoming paine's counsel in , was at once taken back into favor after prosecuting the "age of reason," and put on his way to become lord erskine. the imprisonment of williams caused a reaction in the minds of those who had turned against paine. christianity suffered under royal patronage. the terror manifested at the name of paine--some were arrested even for showing his portrait--was felt to be political. none of the aristocratic deists, who wrote for the upper classes, were dealt with in the same way. paine had proclaimed from the housetops what, as dr. watson confessed, scholars were whispering in the ear. there were lampoons of paine, such as those of peter pindar (rev. john wolcott), but they only served to whet popular curiosity concerning him.* the "age of reason" had passed through several editions before it was outlawed, and every copy of it passed through many hands. from the prosecution and imprisonment of williams may be dated the consolidation of the movement for the "rights of man," with antagonism to the kind of christianity which that injustice illustrated. political liberalism and heresy thenceforth progressed in england, hand in hand. * "i have preserved," says royall tyler, "an epigram of peter pindar's, written originally in a blank leaf of a copy of paine's 'age of reason,' and not inserted in any of his works. "'tommy paine wrote this book to prove that the bible was an old woman's dream of fancies most idle; that solomon's proverbs were made by low livers, that prophets were fellows who sang semiquavers; that religion and miracles all were a jest, and the devil in torment a tale of the priest. though beelzebub's absence from hell i 'll maintain! yet we all must allow that the devil's in paine.'" chapter xiv. the republican abdiel the sight of james monroe and thomas paine in france, representing republican america, was more than gouverneur morris could stand. he sent to washington the abominable slander of monroe already quoted (ii., p. ), and the minister's recall came at the close of .* monroe could not sail in midwinter with his family, so they remained until the following spring. paine made preparations to return to america with them, and accompanied them to havre; but he found so many "british frigates cruising in sight" (so he writes jefferson) that he did not "trust [himself] to their discretion, and the more so as [he] had no confidence in the captain of the dublin packet" sure enough this captain clay was friendly enough with the british cruiser which lay in wait to catch paine, but only succeeded in finding his letter to jefferson. before returning from havre to paris he wrote another letter to vice-president jefferson. * this sudden recall involved monroe in heavy expenses, which congress afterwards repaid. i am indebted to mr. frederick mcguire, of washington, for the manuscript of monroe's statement of his expenses and annoyances caused by his recall, which he declares due to "the representations which were made to him [washington] by those in whom he confided." he states that paine remained in his house a year and a half, and that be advanced him louis d'or. for these services to paine, he adds, "no claims were ever presented on my part, nor is any indemnity now desired." this money was repaid ($ , ) to monroe by an act of congress, april , . the advances are stated in the act to have been made "from time to time," and were no doubt regarded by both paine and monroe as compensated by the many services rendered by the author to the legation. "havre, may th, . "dear sir,--i wrote to you by the ship dublin packet, captain clay, mentioning my intention to have returned to america by that vessel, and to have suggested to some member of the house of representatives the propriety of calling mr. monroe before them to have enquired into the state of their affairs in france. this might have laid the foundation for some resolves on their part that might have led to an accommodation with france, for that house is the only part of the american government that have any reputation here. i apprised mr. monroe of my design, and he wishes to be called up. "you will have heard before this reaches you that the emperor has been obliged to sue for peace, and to consent to the establishment of the new republic in lombardy. how france will proceed with respect to england, i am not, at this distance from paris, in the way of knowing, but am inclined to think she meditates a descent upon that country, and a revolution in its government. if this should be the plan, it will keep me in europe at least another year. "as the british party has thrown the american commerce into wretched confusion, it is necessary to pay more attention to the appointment of consuls in the ports of france, than there was occasion to do in time of peace; especially as there is now no minister, and mr. skipwith, who stood well with the government here, has resigned. mr. cutting, the consul for havre, does not reside at it, and the business is altogether in the hands of de la motte, the vice consul, who is a frenchman, [and] cannot have the full authority proper for the office in the difficult state matters are now in. i do not mention this to the disadvantage of mr. cutting, for no man is more proper than himself if he thought it an object to attend to. "i know not if you are acquainted with captain johnson of massachusetts--he is a staunch man and one of the oldest american captains in the american employ. he is now settled at havre and is a more proper man for a vice consul than la motte. you can learn his character from mr. monroe. he has written to some of his friends to have the appointment and if you can see an opportunity of throwing in a little service for him, you will do a good thing. we have had several reports of mr. madison's coming. he would be well received as an individual, but as an envoy of john adams he could do nothing. "thomas paine." the following, in paine's handwriting, is copied from the original in the morrison papers, at the british museum. it was written in the summer of , when lord malmsbury was at lille in negotiation for peace. the negotiations were broken off because the english commissioners were unauthorized to make the demanded restorations to holland and spain. paine's essay was no doubt sent to the directory in the interests of peace, suggesting as it does a compromise, as regards the cape of good hope. "cape of good hope.--it is very well known that dun-das, the english minister for indian affairs, is tenacious of holding the cape of good hope, because it will give to the english east india company a monopoly of the commerce of india; and this, on the other hand, is the very reason that such a claim is inadmissible by france, and by all the nations trading in india and to canton, and would also be injurious to canton itself.--we pretend not to know anything of the négociations at lille, but it is very easy to see, from the nature of the case, what ought to be the condition of the cape. it ought to be a free port open to the vessels of all nations trading to any part of the east indias. it ought also to be a neutral port at all times, under the guarantee of all nations; the expense of keeping the port in constant repair to be defrayed by a tonnage tax to be paid by every vessel, whether of commerce or of war, and in proportion to the time of their stay.--nothing then remains but with respect to the nation who shall be the port-master; and this ought to be the dutch, because they understand the business best. as the cape is a half-way stage between europe and india, it ought to be considered as a tavern, where travellers on a long journey put up for rest and refreshment.--t. p." the suspension of peace negotiations,* and the bloodless defeat of pichigru's conspiracy of fructidor (september th) were followed by a pamphlet addressed to "the people of france and the french armies." this little work is of historical value, in connection with fructidor, but it was evidently written to carry two practical points. the first was, that if the war with england must continue it should be directed to the end of breaking the anglo-germanic compact. england has the right to her internal arrangements, but this is an external matter. while "with respect to england it has been the cause of her immense national debt, the ruin of her finances, and the insolvency of her bank," english intrigues on the continent "are generated by, and act through, the medium of this anglo-germanic compound. it will be necessary to dissolve it. let the elector retire to his electorate, and the world will have peace." paine's other main point is, that the neutral nations should secure, in time of war, an unarmed neutrality. * in a letter to duane, many years later, paine relates the following story concerning the british union: "when lord malmsbury arrived in paris, in the time of the directory government, to open a négociation for a peace, his credentials ran in the old style of 'george, by the grace of god, of great britain, france, and ireland, king.' malmsbury was informed that although the assumed title of king of france, in his credentials, would not prevent france opening a négociation, yet that no treaty of peace could be concluded until that assumed title was removed. pitt then hit on the union. bill, under which the assumed title of king of france was discontinued." "were the neutral nations to associate, under an honorable injunction of fidelity to each other, and publickly declare to the world, that if any belligerent power shall seize or molest any ship or vessel belonging to the citizens or subjects of any of the powers composing that association, that the whole association will shut its ports against the flag of the offending nation, and will not permit any goods, wares, or merchandize, produced or manufactured in the offending nation, or appertaining thereto, to be imported into any of the ports included in the association, until reparation be made to the injured party; the reparation to be three times the value of the vessel and cargo; and moreover that all remittances in money, goods, and bills of exchange, do cease to be made to the offending nation, until the said reparation be made. were the neutral nations only to do this, which it is their direct interest to do, england, as a nation depending on the commerce of neutral nations in time of war, dare not molest them, and france would not but whilst, from want of a common system, they individually permit england to do it, because individually they cannot resist it, they put france under the necessity of doing the same thing. the supreme of all laws, in all cases, is that of self-preservation." it is a notable illustration of the wayward course of political evolution, that the english republic--for it is such--grew largely out of the very parts of its constitution once so oppressive. the foreign origin of the royal family helped to form its wholesome timidity about meddling with politics, allowing thus a development of ministerial government. the hereditary character of the throne, which george iii.'s half-insane condition associated with the recklessness of irresponsibility, was by his complete insanity made to serve ministerial independence. regency is timid about claiming power, and childhood cannot exercise it. the decline of royal and aristocratic authority in england secured freedom to commerce, which necessarily gave hostages to peace. the protection of neutral commerce at sea, concerning which paine wrote so much, ultimately resulted from english naval strength, which formerly scourged the world. to paine, england, at the close of , could appear only as a dragon-guarded prison of fair humanity. the press was paralyzed, thinkers and publishers were in prison, some of the old orators like erskine were bought up, and the forlorn hope of liberty rested only with fox and his fifty in parliament, overborne by a majority made brutal by strength. the groans of imprisoned thought in his native land reached its outlawed representative in paris. and at the same time the inhuman decree went forth from that country that there should be no peace with france. it had long been his conviction that the readiness of great britain to go to war was due to an insular position that kept the horrors at a distance. war never came home to her. this conviction, which we have several times met in these pages, returned to him with new force when england now insisted on more bloodshed. he was convinced that the right course of france would be to make a descent on england, ship the royal family to hanover, open the political prisons, and secure the people freedom to make a constitution. these views, freely expressed to his friends of the directory and legislature, reached the ears of napoleon on his triumphal return from italy. the great man called upon paine in his little room, and invited him to dinner. he made the eloquent professions of republicanism so characteristic of napoleons until they became pretenders. he told paine that he slept with the "rights of man" under his pillow, and that its author ought to have a statue of gold.* * rickman, p. . he consulted paine about a descent on england, and adopted the plan. he invited the author to accompany the expedition, which was to consist of a thousand gun-boats, with a hundred men each. paine consented, "as [so he wrote jefferson] the intention of the expedition was to give the people of england an opportunity of forming a government for themselves, and thereby bring about peace." one of the points to be aimed at was norfolk, and no doubt paine indulged a happy vision of standing once more in thetford and proclaiming liberty throughout the land! the following letter (december , ) from paine to barras is in the archives of the directory, with a french translation: "citizen president,--a very particular friend of mine, who had a passport to go to london upon some family affairs and to return in three months, and whom i had commissioned upon some affairs of my own (for i find that the english government has seized upon a thousand pounds sterling which i had in the hands of a friend), returned two days ago and gave me the memorandum which i enclose:--the first part relates only to my publication on the event of the fructidor, and to a letter to erskine (who had been counsel for the prosecution against a former work of mine the 'age of reason') both of which i desired my friend to publish in london. the other part of the memorandum respects the state of affairs in that country, by which i see they have little or no idea of a descent being made upon them; tant mieux--but they will be guarded in ireland, as they expect a descent there. "i expect a printed copy of the letter to erskine in a day or two. as this is in english, and on a subject that will be amusing to the citizen revellière le peaux, i will send it to him. the friend of whom i speak was a pupil of dessault the surgeon, and whom i once introduced to you at a public audience in company with captain cooper on his plan respecting the island of bermuda.--salut et respect." { } thus once again did the great hope of a liberated, peaceful, and republican europe shine before simple-hearted paine. he was rather poor now, but gathered up all the money he had, and sent it to the council of five hundred. the accompanying letter was read by coupe at the sitting of january , : "citizens representatives,--though it is not convenient to me, in the present situation of my affairs, to subscribe to the loan towards the descent upon england, my economy permits me to make a small patriotic donation. i send a hundred livres, and with it all the wishes of my heart for the success of the descent, and a voluntary offer of any service i can render to promote it. "there will be no lasting peace for france, nor for the world, until the tyranny and corruption of the english government be abolished, and england, like italy, become a sister republic. as to those men, whether in england, scotland, or ireland, who, like robespierre in france, are covered with crimes, they, like him, have no other resource than in committing more. but the mass of the people are the friends of liberty: tyranny and taxation oppress them, but they deserve to be free. "accept, citizens representatives, the congratulations of an old colleague in the dangers we have passed, and on the happy prospect before us. salut et respect. "thomas paine." coupe added: "the gift which thomas paine offers you appears very trifling, when it is compared with the revolting injustice which this faithful friend of liberty has experienced from the english government; but compare it with the state of poverty in which our former colleague finds himself, and you will then think it considerable." he moved that the notice of this gift and thomas paine's letter be printed. "mention honorable et impression," adds the moniteur. the president of the directory at this time was larevéllière-lépeaux, a friend of the theophilanthropic society. to him paine gave, in english, which the president understood, a plan for the descent, which was translated into french, and adopted by the directory. two hundred and fifty gun-boats were built, and the expedition abandoned. to jefferson, paine intimates his suspicion that it was all "only a feint to cover the expedition to egypt, which was then preparing." he also states that the british descent on ostend, where some two thousand of them were made prisoners, "was in search of the gun-boats, and to cut the dykes, to prevent their being assembled." this he was told by vanhuile, of bruges, who heard it from the british officers. after the failure of his attempt to return to america with the monroes, paine was for a time the guest of nicolas de bonneville, in paris, and the visit ended in an arrangement for his abode with that family. bonneville was an editor, thirty-seven years of age, and had been one of the five members of paine's republican club, which placarded paris with its manifesto after the king's flight in . an enthusiastic devotee of paine's principles from youth, he had advocated them in his successive journals, _le tribun du peuple, bouche de fer, and bien informé_. he had resisted marat and robespierre, and suffered imprisonment during the terror. he spoke english fluently, and was well known in the world of letters by some striking poems, also by his translation into french of german tales, and parts of shakespeare. he had set up a printing office at no. rue du théâtre-français, where he published liberal pamphlets, also his _bien informé_. then, in , he printed in french the "age of reason." he also published, and probably translated into french, paine's letter to the now exiled camille jordan,--"lettre de thomas paine, sur les cultes." paine, unable to converse in french, found with the bonnevilles a home he needed. m. and madame bonneville had been married three years, and their second child had been named after thomas paine, who stood as his godfather. paine, as we learn from rickman, who knew the bonnevilles, paid board, but no doubt he aided bonneville more by his pen. with public affairs, either in france or america, paine now mingled but little. the election of john adams to the presidency he heard of with dismay. he wrote to jefferson that since he was not president, he was glad he had accepted the vice-presidency, "for john adams has such a talent for blundering and offending, it will be necessary to keep an eye over him." finding, by the abandonment of a descent on. england for one on egypt, that napoleon was by no means his ideal missionary of republicanism, he withdrew into his little study, and now remained so quiet that some english papers announced his arrival and cool reception in america. he was, however, fairly bored with visitors from all parts of the world, curious to see the one international republican left. it became necessary for madame bonneville, armed with polite prevarications, to defend him from such sight-seers. for what with his visits to and from the barlows, the smiths, and his friends of the directory, paine had too little time for the inventions in which he was again absorbed,--his "saints." among his intimate friends at this time was robert fulton, then residing in paris. paine's extensive studies of the steam-engine, and his early discovery, of its adaptability to navigation, had caused rumsey to seek him in england, and fitch to consult him both in america and paris. paine's connection with the invention of the steamboat was recognized by fulton, as indeed by all of his scientific contemporaries.* to fulton he freely gave his ideas, and may perhaps have had some hope that the steamboat might prove a missionary of international republicanism, though napoleon had failed. * sir richard phillips says: "in thomas paine proposed, in america, this application of steam." ("million of facts," p. .) as sir richard assisted fulton in his experiments on the thames, he probably heard from him the fact about paine, though, indeed, in the controversy between rumsey and fitch, paine's priority to both was conceded. in america, however, the priority really belonged to the eminent mechanician william henry, of lancaster, pa. when fitch visited henry, in , he was told by him that he was not the first to devise steam-navigation; that he himself had thought of it in , and mentioned it to andrew ellicott; and that thomas paine, while a guest at his house in , had spoken to him on the subject i am indebted to mr. john w. jordan, of the historical society of pennsylvania, for notes from the papers of henry, his ancestor, showing that paine's scheme was formed without knowledge of others, and that it contemplated a turbine application of steam to a wheel. both he and henry, as they had not published their plans, agreed to leave fitch the whole credit. fitch publicly expressed his gratitude to paine. thurston adds that paine, in , proposed that congress should adopt the whole matter for the national benefit. ("history of the growth of the steam engine," pp. , .) it will not be forgotten that in the same year in which paine startled william henry with a plan for steam-navigation, namely in , he wrote his sublime sentence about the "religion of humanity." the steamships, which emerson described as enormous shuttles weaving the races of men into the woof of humanity, have at length rendered possible that universal human religion which paine foresaw. in that old lancaster mansion of the henrys, which still stands, paine left his spectacles, now in our national museum; they are strong and far-seeing; through them looked eyes held by visions that the world is still steadily following. one cannot suppress some transcendental sentiment in view of the mystical harmony of this man's inventions for human welfare,--mechanical, political, religious. of his gunpowder motor, mention has already been made (i., p. ). on this he was engaged about the time that he was answering bishop watson's book on the "age of reason." the two occupations are related. he could not believe, he said, that the qualities of gunpowder--the small and light grain with maximum of force--were meant only for murder, and his faith in the divine humanity is in the sentence. to supersede destroying gunpowder with beneficent gunpowder, and to supersede the god of battles with the god of love, were kindred aims in paine's heart through the fiery furnaces of his time he had come forth with every part of his being welded and beaten and shaped together for this human service. patriotism, in the conventional sense, race-pride, sectarianism, partizanship, had been burnt out of his nature. the universe could not have wrung from his tongue approval of a wrong because it was done by his own country. it might be supposed that there were no heavier trials awaiting paine's political faith than those it had undergone. but it was becoming evident that liberty had not the advantage he once ascribed to truth over error,--"it cannot be unlearned." the united states had unlearned it as far as to put into the president's hands a power of arbitrarily crushing political opponents, such as even george iii. hardly aspired to. the british treaty had begun to bear its natural fruits. washington signed the treaty to avoid war, and rendered war inevitable with both france and england. the affair with france was happily a transient squall, but it was sufficient to again bring on paine the offices of an american minister in france. many an american in that country had occasion to appreciate his powerful aid and unfailing kindness. among these was captain rowland crocker of massachusetts, who had sailed with a letter of marque. 'his vessel was captured by the french, and its wounded commander brought to paris, where he was more agreeably conquered by kindness. freeman's "history of cape cod" (of which region crocker was a native) has the following: "his [captain crocker's] reminiscences of his residence in that country, during the most extraordinary period of its history, were of a highly interesting character. he had taken the great napoleon by the hand; he had familiarly known paine, at a time when his society was sought for and was valuable. of this noted individual, we may in passing say, with his uniform and characteristic kindness, he always spoke in terms which sounded strange to the ears of a generation which has been taught, with or without justice, to regard the author of 'the age of reason' with loathing and abhorrence. he remembered paine as a well-dressed and most gentlemanly man, of sound and orthodox republican principles, of a good heart, a strong intellect, and a fascinating address." { } the _coup d'état_ in america, which made president adams virtual emperor, pretended constitutionality, and was reversible. that which napoleon and sievès--who had his way at last--effected in france (november , ) was lawless and fatal. the peaceful bonneville home was broken up. bonneville, in his _bien informé_ described napoleon as "a cromwell," and was promptly imprisoned. paine, either before or soon after this catastrophe, went to belgium, on a visit to his old friend vanhuile, who had shared his cell in the luxembourg prison. vanhuile was now president of the municipality of bruges, and paine got from him information about european affairs. on his return he found bonneville released from prison, but under severe surveillance, his journal being suppressed. the family was thus reduced to penury and anxiety, but there was all the more reason that paine should stand by them. he continued his abode in their house, now probably supported by drafts on his resources in america, to which country they turned their thoughts. { } the european republic on land having become hopeless, paine turned his attention to the seas. he wrote a pamphlet on "maritime compact," including in it ten articles for the security of neutral commerce, to be signed by the nations entering the "unarmed association," which he proposed. this scheme was substantially the same as that already quoted from his letter "to the people of france, and to the french armies." it was translated by bonneville, and widely circulated in europe. paine sent it in manuscript to jefferson, who at once had it printed. his accompanying letter to jefferson (october i, ) is of too much biographical interest to be abridged. * oliver ellsworth, william v. murray, and william r. davie, were sent by president adams to france to negotiate a treaty. there is little doubt that the famous letter of joel barlow to washington, october , , written in the interest of peace, was composed after consultation with paine. adams, on reading the letter, abused barlow. "tom paine," he said, "is not a more worthless fellow." but he obeyed the letter. the commissioners he sent were associated with the anti-french and british party in america, but peace with america was of too much importance to the new despot of france for the opportunity to be missed of forming a treaty. "dear sir,--i wrote to you from havre by the ship dublin packet in the year . it was then my intention to return to america; but there were so many british frigates cruising in sight of the port, and which after a few days knew that i was at havre waiting to go to america, that i did not think it best to trust myself to their discretion, and the more so, as i had no confidence in the captain of the dublin packet (clay). i mentioned to you in that letter, which i believe you received thro' the hands of colonel [aaron] burr, that i was glad since you were not president that you had accepted the nomination of vice president. "the commissioners ellsworth & co." have been here about eight months, and three more useless mortals never came upon public business. their presence appears to me to have been rather an injury than a benefit they set themselves up for a faction as soon as they arrived. i was then in belgia. upon my return to paris i learned they had made a point of not returning the visits of mr. skipwith and barlow, because, they said, they had not the confidence of the executive. every known republican was treated in the same manner. i learned from mr. miller of philadelphia, who had occasion to see them upon business, that they did not intend to return my visit, if i made one. this i supposed it was intended i should know, that i might not make one. it had the contrary effect. i went to see mr. ellsworth. i told him, i did not come to see him as a commissioner, nor to congratulate him upon his mission; that i came to see him because i had formerly known him in congress. i mean not, said i, to press you with any questions, or to engage you in any conversation upon the business you are come upon, but i will nevertheless candidly say that i know not what expectations the government or the people of america may have of your mission, or what expectations you may have yourselves, but i believe you will find you can do but little. the treaty with england lies at the threshold of all your business. the american government never did two more foolish things than when it signed that treaty and recalled mr. monroe, who was the only man could do them any service. mr. ellsworth put on the dull gravity of a judge, and was silent. i added, you may perhaps make a treaty like that you have made with england, which is a surrender of the rights of the american flag; for the principle that neutral ships make neutral property must be general or not at all. i then changed the subject, for i had all the talk to myself upon this topic, and enquired after sam. adams, (i asked nothing about john,) mr. jefferson, mr. monroe, and others of my friends, and the melancholy case of the yellow fever,--of which he gave me as circumstantial an account as if he had been summing up a case to a jury. here my visit ended, and had mr. ellsworth been as cunning as a statesman, or as wise as a judge, he would have returned my visit that he might appear insensible of the intention of mine. "i now come to the affairs of this country and of europe. you will, i suppose, have heard before this arrives to you, of the battle of marengo in italy, where the austrians were defeated--of the armistice in consequence thereof, and the surrender of milan, genoa, etc., to the french--of the successes of the french army in germany--and the extension of the armistice in that quarter--of the preliminaries of peace signed at paris--of the refusal of the emperor [of austria] to ratify these preliminaries--of the breaking of the armistice by the french government in consequence of that refusal--of the 'gallant' expedition of the emperor to put himself at the head of his army--of his pompous arrival there--of his having made his will--of prayers being put in all his churches for the preservation of the life of this hero--of general moreau announcing to him, immediately on his arrival at the army, that hostilities would commence the day after the next at sunrise, unless he signed the treaty or gave security that he would sign within days--of his surrendering up three of the principal keys of germany (ulm, philipsbourg, and ingolstad), as security that he would sign them. this is the state things [they] are now in, at the time of writing this letter; but it is proper to add that the refusal of the emperor to sign the preliminaries was motived upon a note from the king of england to be admitted to the congress for negociating peace, which was consented to by the french upon the condition of an armistice at sea, which england, before knowing of the surrender the emperor had made, had refused. from all which it appears to me, judging from circumstances, that the emperor is now so compleatly in the hands of the french, that he has no way of getting out but by a peace. the congress for the peace is to be held at luneville, a town in france. since the affair of rastadt the french commissioners will not trust themselves within the emperor's territory. "i now come to domestic affairs. i know not what the commissioners have done, but from a paper i enclose to you, which appears to have some authority, it is not much. the paper as you will perceive is considerably prior to this letter. i knew that the commissioners before this piece appeared intended setting off. it is therefore probable that what they have done is conformable to what this paper mentions, which certainly will not atone for the expence their mission has incurred, neither are they, by all the accounts i hear of them, men fitted for the business. "but independently of these matters there appears to be a state of circumstances rising, which if it goes on, will render all partial treaties unnecessary. in the first place i doubt if any peace will be made with england; and in the second place, i should not wonder to see a coalition formed against her, to compel her to abandon her insolence on the seas. this brings me to speak of the manuscripts i send you. "the piece no. , without any title, was written in consequence of a question put to me by bonaparte. as he supposed i knew england and english politics he sent a person to me to ask, that in case of negociating a peace with austria, whether it would be proper to include england. this was when count st. julian was in paris, on the part of the emperor negociating the preliminaries:--which as i have before said the emperor refused to sign on the pretence of admitting england. "the piece no. , entitled _on the jacobinism of the english at sea_, was written when the english made their insolent and impolitic expedition to denmark, and is also an auxiliary to the politic of no. . i shewed it to a friend [bonneville] who had it translated into french, and printed in the form of a pamphlet, and distributed gratis among the foreign ministers, and persons in the government. it was immediately copied into several of the french journals, and into the official paper, the moniteur. it appeared in this paper one day before the last dispatch arrived from egypt; which agreed perfectly with what i had said respecting egypt. it hit the two cases of denmark and egypt in the exact proper moment. "the piece no. , entitled _compact maritime_, is the sequel of no. digested in form. it is translating at the time i write this letter, and i am to have a meeting with the senator garat upon the subject. the pieces and go off in manuscript to england, by a confidential person, where they will be published. "by all the news we get from the north there appears to be something meditating against england. it is now given for certain that paul has embargoed all the english vessels and english property in russia till some principle be established for protecting the rights of neutral nations, and securing the liberty of the seas. the preparations in denmark continue, notwithstanding the convention that she has made with england, which leaves the question with respect to the right set up by england to stop and search neutral vessels undecided. i send you the paragraphs upon the subject. "the tumults are great in all parts of england on account of the excessive price of corn and bread, which has risen since the harvest. i attribute it more to the abundant increase of paper, and the non-circulation of cash, than to any other cause, people in trade can push the paper off as fast as they receive it, as they did by continental money in america; but as farmers have not this opportunity they endeavor to secure themselves by going considerably in advance. "i have now given you all the great articles of intelligence, for i trouble not myself with little ones, and consequently not with the commissioners, nor any thing they are about, nor with john adams, otherwise than to wish him safe home, and a better and wiser man in his place. "in the present state of circumstances and the prospects arising from them, it may be proper for america to consider whether it is worth her while to enter into any treaty at this moment, or to wait the event of those circumstances which, if they go on will render partial treaties useless by deranging them. but if, in the mean time, she enters into any treaty it ought to be with a condition to the following purpose: reserving to herself the right of joining in an association of nations for the protection of the rights of neutral commerce and the security of the liberty of the seas. "the pieces , , may go to the press. they will make a small pamphlet and the printers are welcome to put my name to it. it is best it should be put from thence; they will get into the newspapers. i know that the faction of john adams abuses me pretty heartily. they are welcome. it does not disturb me, and they lose their labour; and in return for it i am doing america more service, as a neutral nation, than their expensive commissioners can do, and she has that service from me for nothing. the piece no. is only for your own amusement and that of your friends. "i come now to speak confidentially to you on a private subject. when mr. ellsworth and davie return to america, murray will return to holland, and in that case there will be nobody in paris but mr. skipwith that has been in the habit of transacting business with the french government since the revolution began. he is on a good standing with them, and if the chance of the day should place you in the presidency you cannot do better than appoint him for any purpose you may have occasion for in france. he is an honest man and will do his country justice, and that with civility and good manners to the government he is commissioned to act with; a faculty which that northern bear timothy pickering wanted, and which the bear of that bear, john adams, never possessed. "i know not much of mr. murray, otherwise than of his unfriendliness to every american who is not of his faction, but i am sure that joel barlow is a much fitter man to be in holland than mr. murray. it is upon the fitness of the man to the place that i speak, for i have not communicated a thought upon the subject to barlow, neither does he know, at the time of my writing this (for he is at havre), that i have intention to do it. "i will now, by way of relief, amuse you with some account of the progress of iron bridges. the french revolution and mr. burke's attack upon it, drew me off from any pontifical works. since my coming from england in ' , an iron bridge of a single arch feet span versed sine feet, has been cast at the iron works of the walkers where my model was, and erected over the river wear at sunderland in the county of durham in england. the two members in parliament for the county, mr. bourdon and mr. milbank, were the principal subscribers; but the direction was committed to mr. bourdon. a very sincere friend of mine, sir robert smyth, who lives in france, and whom mr. monroe well knows, supposing they had taken their plan from my model wrote to mr. milbank upon the subject. mr. milbank answered the letter, which answer i have by me and i give you word for word the part concerning the bridge: 'with respect to the bridge over the river wear at sunderland it certainly is a work well deserving admiration both for its structure, durability and utility, and i have good grounds for saying that the first idea was taken from mr. paine's bridge exhibited at paddington. but with respect to any compensation to mr. paine, however desirous of rewarding the labours of an ingenious man, i see not how it is in my power, having had nothing to do with his bridge after the payment of my subscription, mr. bourdon being accountable for the whole. but if you can point out any mode by which i can be instrumental in procuring for mr. p. any compensation for the advantages which the public may have derived from his ingenious model, from which certainly the outlines of the bridge at sunderland was taken, be assured it will afford me very great satisfaction.' "i have now made two other models, one is pasteboard, five feet span and five inches of height from the cords. it is in the opinion of every person who has seen it one of the most beautiful objects the eye can behold. i then cast a model in métal following the construction of that in pasteboard and of the same dimensions. the whole was executed in my own chamber. it is far superior in strength, elegance, and readiness in execution to the model i made in america, and which you saw in paris. i shall bring those models with me when i come home, which will be as soon as i can pass the seas in safety from the piratical john bulls. "i suppose you have seen, or have heard of the bishop of landaff's answer to my second part of the age of reason. as soon as i got a copy of it i began a third part, which served also as an answer to the bishop; but as soon as the clerical society for promoting _christian knowledge_ knew of my intention to answer the bishop, they prosecuted, as a society, the printer of the first and second parts, to prevent that answer appearing. no other reason than this can be assigned for their prosecuting at the time they did, because the first part had been in circulation above three years and the second part more than one, and they prosecuted immediately on knowing that i was taking up their champion. the bishop's answer, like mr. burke's attack on the french revolution; served me as a back-ground to bring forward other subjects upon, with more advantage than if the background was not there. this is the motive that induced me to answer him, otherwise i should have gone on without taking any notice of him. i have made and am still making additions to the manuscript, and shall continue to do so till an opportunity arrive for publishing it. "if any american frigate should come to france, and the direction of it fall to you, i will be glad you would give me the opportunity of returning. the abscess under which i suffered almost two years is entirely healed of itself, and i enjoy exceeding good health. this is the first of october, and mr. skipwith has just called to tell me the commissioners set off for havre tomorrow. this will go by the frigate but not with the knowledge of the commissioners. remember me with much affection to my friends and accept the same to yourself." as the commissioners did not leave when they expected, paine added several other letters to jefferson, on public affairs. in one (october st) he says he has information of increasing aversion in the english people to their government. "it was the hope of conquest, and is now the hope of peace that keeps it [pitt's administration] up." pitt is anxious about his paper money. "the credit of paper is suspicion asleep. when suspicion wakes the credit vanishes as the dream would." "england has a large navy, and the expense of it leads to her ruin." the english nation is tired of war, longs for peace, "and calculates upon defeat as it would upon victory." on october th, after the commissioners had concluded a treaty, paine alludes to an article said to be in it, requiring certain expenditures in france, and says that if he, jefferson, be "in the chair, and not otherwise," he should offer himself for this business, should an agent be required "it will serve to defray my expenses until i can return, but i wish it may be with the condition of returning. i am not tired of working for nothing, but i cannot afford it. this appointment will aid me in promoting the object i am now upon of a law of nations for the protection of neutral commerce." on october th he reports to jefferson that at an entertainment given the american envoys, consul le brun gave the toast: "a l'union de l'amérique avec les puissances du nord pour faire respecter la liberté des mers." on october th the last of his enclosures to jefferson is written. he says that napoleon, when asked if there would be more war, replied: "nous n'aurions plus qu'une guerre d'écritoire." in all of paine's writing about napoleon, at this time, he seems as if watching a thundercloud, and trying to make out meteorologically its drift, and where it will strike. chapter xxv. the last year in europe. { } on july , , napoleon concluded with pius vii. the concordat. naturally, the first victim offered on the restored altar was theophilan-thropy. i have called paine the founder of this society, because it arose amid the controversy excited by the publication of "le siècle de la raison," its manual and tracts reproducing his ideas and language; and because he gave the inaugural discourse. theism was little known in france save as iconoclasm, and an assault on the church: paine treated it as a religion. but, as he did not speak french, the practical organization and management of the society were the work of others, and mainly of a russian named hauëy. there had been a good deal of odium incurred at first by a society which satisfied neither the pious nor the freethinkers, but it found a strong friend on the directory. this was larévellière-lépeaux, whose secretary, antoine vallée, and young daughter, had become interested in the movement. this statesman never joined the society, but he had attended one of its meetings, and, when a distribution of religious edifices was made, theophilanthropy was assigned ten parish churches. it is said that when larevéllière-lépeaux mentioned to talleyrand his desire for the spread of this society, the diplomat said: "all you have to do is to get yourself hanged, and revive the third day." paine, who had pretty nearly fulfilled that requirement, saw the society spread rapidly, and he had great hopes of its future. but pius: vii. also had an interested eye on it, and though the concordat did not go into legal operation until , theophilanthropy was offered as a preliminary sacrifice in october, . the description of paine by walter savage landor, and representations of his talk, in the "imaginary conversations," so mix up persons, times, and places, that i was at one time inclined to doubt whether the two had met. but mr. j. m. wheeler, a valued correspondent in london, writes me: "landor told my friend mr. birch of florence that he particularly admired paine, and that he visited him, having first obtained an interview at the house of general dumouriez. landor declared that paine was always called 'tom,' not out of disrespect, but because he was a jolly good fellow." an interview with paine at the house of dumouriez could only have occurred when the general was in paris, in . this would account for what landor says of paine taking refuge from trouble in brandy. there had been, as, rickman testifies, and as all the facts show, nothing of this kind since that period. it would appear therefore that landor must have mixed up at least two interviews with paine, one in the time of dumouriez, the other in that of napoleon. not even such an artist as landor could invent the language ascribed to paine concerning the french and napoleon. "the whole nation may be made as enthusiastic about a salad as about a constitution; about the colour of a cockade as about a consul or a king. you will shortly see the real strength and figure of bonaparte. he is wilful, headstrong, proud, morose, presumptuous; he will be guided no longer; he has pulled the pad from his forehead, and will break his nose or bruise his cranium against every table, chair, and brick in the room, until at last he must be sent to the hospital." paine prophesies that napoleon will make himself emperor, and that "by his intemperate use of power and thirst of dominion" he will cause the people to "wish for their old kings, forgetting what beasts they were." possibly under the name "mr. normandy" landor disguises thomas poole, referred to on a preceding page. normandy's sufferings on account of one of paine's books are not exaggerated. in mrs. sanford's work is printed a letter from paris, july , , in which poole says: "i called one morning on thomas paine. he is an original, amusing fellow. striking, strong physiognomy. said a great many quaint things, and read us part of a reply which he intends to publish to watson's 'apology.'" * "thomas poole and his friends," ii., p. . paine seems to have had no relation with the ruling powers at this time, though an englishman who visited him is quoted by rickman (p. ) as remarking his manliness and fearlessness, and that he spoke as freely as ever after bonaparte's supremacy. one communication only to any member of the government appears; this was to the minister of the interior concerning a proposed iron bridge over the seine.* political france and paine had parted. under date of march , , president jefferson informs paine that he had sent his manuscripts (maritime compact) to the printer to be made into a pamphlet, and that the american people had returned from their frenzy against france. he adds: "you expressed a wish to get a passage to this country in a public vessel. mr. dawson is charged with orders to the captain of the maryland to receive and accommodate you back if you can be ready to depart at such short warning. rob. r. livingston is appointed minister plenipotentiary to the republic of france, but will not leave this till we receive the ratification of the convention by mr. dawson.** i am in hopes you will find us returned generally to sentiments worthy of former times. in these it will be your glory to have steadily labored, and with as much effect as any man living. that you may long live to continue your useful labors and to reap the reward in the thankfulness of nations, is my sincere prayer. accept assurances of my high esteem and affectionate attachment." * "the minister of the interior to thomas paine: i have received, citizen, the observations that you have been so good as to address to me upon the construction of iron bridges. they will be of the greatest utility to us when the new kind of construction goes to be executed for the first time. with pleasure i assure you, citizen, that you have rights of more than one kind to the gratitude of nations, and i give you, cordially, the expression of my particular esteem.--chaptal." it is rather droll, considering the appropriation of his patent in england, and the confiscation of a thousand pounds belonging to him, to find paine casually mentioning that at this time a person came from london with plans and drawings to consult with him about an iron arch of feet, over the thames, then under consideration by a committee of the house of commons. ** "beau dawson," an eminent virginia congressman. the subjoined notes are from letters of paine to jefferson: _paris, june , _. "your very friendly letter by mr. dawson gave me the real sensation of happy satisfaction, and what served to increase it was that he brought it to me himself before i knew of his arrival. i congratulate america on your election. there has been no circumstance with respect to america since the times of her revolution that excited so much attention and expectation in france, england, ireland, and scotland as the pending election for president of the united states, nor any of which the event has given more general joy: "i thank you for the opportunity you give me of returning by the maryland, but i shall wait the return of the vessel that brings mr. livingston." _paris, june , _. "the parliamentaire, from america to havre, was taken in going out, and carried into england. the pretence, as the papers say, was that a swedish minister was on board for america. if i had happened to have been there, i suppose they would have made no ceremony in conducting me on shore."* { } _paris, march , _. "as it is now peace, though the definitive treaty is not yet signed, i shall set off by the first opportunity from havre or dieppe, after the equinoctial gales are over. i continue in excellent health, which i know your friendship will be glad to hear of.--wishing you and america every happiness, i remain your former fellow-labourer and much obliged fellow-citizen." paine's determination not to return to america in a national vessel was owing to a paragraph he saw in a baltimore paper, headed "out at last." it stated that paine had written to the president, expressing a wish to return by a national ship, and that "permission was given." there was here an indication that jefferson's invitation to paine by the hon. john dawson had become known to the president's enemies, and that jefferson, on being attacked, had apologized by making the matter appear an act of charity. paine would not believe that the president was personally responsible for the apologetic paragraph, which seemed inconsistent with the cordiality of the letter brought by dawson; but, as he afterwards wrote to jefferson, "it determined me not to come by a national ship."* his request had been made at a time when any other than a national american ship was pretty certain to land him in an english prison. there was evidently no thought of any _éclat_ in the matter, but no doubt a regard for economy as well as safety. * it was cleared up afterwards. jefferson had been charged with sending a national ship to france for the sole purpose of bringing paine home, and paine himself would have been the first to condemn such an assumption of power. although the president's adherents thought it right to deny this, jefferson wrote to paine that he had nothing to do with the paragraph. "with respect to the letter [offering the ship] i never hesitate to avow and justify it in conversation. in no other way do i trouble myself to contradict anything which is said. at that time, however, there were anomalies in the motions of some of our friends which events have at length reduced to regularity." the following to the eminent deist lecturer in new york, elihu palmer, bears the date, "paris, february , , since the fable of christ": "dear friend, i received, by mr. livingston, the letter you wrote me, and the excellent work you have published ["the principles of nature"]. i see you have thought deeply on the subject, and expressed your thoughts in a strong and clear style. the hinting and intimating manner of writing that was formerly used on subjects of this kind, produced skepticism, but not conviction. it is necessary to be bold. some people can be reasoned into sense, and others must be shocked into it. say a bold thing that will stagger them, and they will begin to think. "there is an intimate friend of mine, colonel joseph kirk-bride of bordentown, new jersey, to whom i would wish you to send your work. he is an excellent man, and perfectly in our sentiments. you can send it by the stage that goes partly by land and partly by water, between new york and philadelphia, and passes through bordentown. "i expect to arrive in america in may next. i have a third part of the age of reason to publish when i arrive, which, if i mistake not, will make a stronger impression than any thing i have yet published on the subject. "i write this by an ancient colleague of mine in the french convention, the citizen lequinio, who is going [as] consul to rhode island, and who waits while i write.* yours in friendship." the following, dated july , , to consul rotch, is the last letter i find written by paine from paris: "my dear friend,--the bearer of this is a young man that wishes to go to america. he is willing to do anything on board a ship to lesson the expense of his passage. if you know any captain to whom such a person may be usefull i will be obliged to you to speak to him about it. "as mr. otte was to come to paris in order to go to america, i wanted to take a passage with him, but as he stays in england to negociate some arrangements of commerce, i have given up that idea. i wait now for the arrival of a person from england whom i want to see,** after which, i shall bid adieu to restless and wretched europe. i am with affectionate esteem to you and mrs. rotch, "yours, "thomas paine." * j. m. lequinio, author of "prejudices destroyed," and other rationalistic works, especially dealt with in priestley's "letters to the philosophers of france." ** no doubt clio rickman. the president's cordial letter had raised a happy vision before the eyes of one sitting amid the ruins of his republican world. as he said of job, he had "determined, in the midst of accumulating ills, to impose upon himself the hard duty of contentment." of the comrades with whom he began the struggle for liberty in france but a small circle remained. as he wrote to lady smith,--from whom he must now part,--"i might almost say like job's servant, 'and i only am escaped.'" of the american and english friends who cared for him when he came out of prison few remain. the president's letter came to a poor man in a small room, furnished only with manuscripts and models of inventions. here he was found by an old friend from england, henry redhead yorke, who, in , had been tried in england for sedition. yorke has left us a last glimpse of the author in "wretched and restless europe." the "rights of man" had become so antiquated in napoleon's france, that yorke found paine's name odious on account of his antislavery writings, the people "ascribing to his espousal of the rights of the negroes of st. domingo the resistance which leclercq had experienced from them." he found paine in no. rue du théâtre français. a "jolly-looking woman" (in whom we recognize madame bonneville) scrutinized yorke severely, but was smiling enough on learning that he was paine's old friend. he was ushered into a little room heaped with boxes of documents, a chaos of pamphlets and journals. while yorke was meditating on the contrast between this habitation of a founder of two great republics and the mansions of their rulers, his old friend entered, dressed in a long flannel gown. "time seemed to have made dreadful ravages over his whole frame, and a settled melancholy was visible on his countenance. he desired me to be seated, and although he did not recollect me for a considerable time, he conversed with his usual affability. i confess i felt extremely surprised that he should have forgotten me; but i resolved not to make myself known to him, as long as it could be avoided with propriety. in order to try his memory, i referred to a number of circumstances which had occurred while we were in company, but carefully abstained from hinting that we had ever lived together. he would frequently put his hand to his forehead, and exclaim, 'ah! i know that voice, but my recollection fails!' at length i thought it time to remove his suspense, and stated an incident which instantly recalled me to his mind. it is impossible to describe the sudden change which this effected; his countenance brightened, he pressed me by the hand, and a silent tear stole down his cheek. nor was i less affected than himself. for some time we sat without a word escaping from our lips. 'thus are we met once more, mr. paine,' i resumed, 'after a long separation of ten years, and after having been both of us severely weather-beaten.' 'aye,' he replied, 'and who would have thought that we should meet in paris?' he then enquired what motive had brought me here, and on my explaining myself, he observed with a smile of contempt, 'they have shed blood enough for liberty, and now they have it in perfection. this is not a country for an honest man to live in; they do not understand any thing at all of the principles of free government, and the best way is to leave them to themselves. you see they have conquered all europe, only to make it more miserable than it was before.' upon this, i remarked that i was surprised to hear him speak in such desponding language of the fortune of mankind, and that i thought much might yet be done for the republic. 'republic!' he exclaimed, 'do you call this a republic? why they are worse off than the slaves of constantinople; for there, they expect to be bashaws in heaven by submitting to be slaves below, but here they believe neither in heaven nor hell, and yet are slaves by choice. i know of no republic in the world except america, which is the only country for such men as you and i. it is my intention to get away from this place as soon as possible, and i hope to be off in the autumn; you are a young man and may see better times, but i have done with europe, and its slavish politics.' "i have often been in company with mr. paine, since my arrival here, and i was not a little surprised to find him wholly indifferent about the public spirit in england, or the remaining influence of his doctrines among its people. indeed he seemed to dislike the mention of the subject; and when, one day, in order to provoke discussion, i told him i had altered my opinions upon many of his principles, he answered, 'you certainly have the right to do so; but you cannot alter the nature of things; the french have alarmed all honest men; but still truth is truth. though you may not think that my principles are practicable in england, without bringing on a great deal of misery and confusion, you are, i am sure, convinced of their justice.' here he took occasion to speak in terms of the utmost severity of mr------, who had obtained a seat in parliament, and said that 'parsons were always mischievous fellows when they turned politicians.' this gave rise to an observation respecting his 'age of reason,' the publication of which i said had lost him the good opinion of numbers of his english advocates. he became uncommonly warm at this remark, and in a tone of singular energy declared that he would not have published it if he had not thought it calculated to 'inspire mankind with a more exalted idea of the supreme architect of the universe, and to put an end to villainous imposture.' he then broke out with the most violent invectives against our received opinions, accompanying them at the same time with some of the most grand and sublime conceptions of an omnipotent being, that i ever heard or read of. in the support of his opinion, he avowed himself ready to lay down his life, and said 'the bishop of llandaff may roast me in smithfield if he likes, but human torture cannot shake my conviction.' he reached down a copy of the bishop's work, interleaved with remarks upon it, which he read me; after which he admitted the liberality of the bishop, and regretted that in all controversies among men a similar temper was not maintained. but in proportion as he appeared listless in politics, he seemed quite a zealot in his religious creed; of which the following is an instance. an english lady of our acquaintance, not less remarkable for her talents than for elegance of manners, entreated me to contrive that she might have an interview with mr. paine. in consequence of this i invited him to dinner on a day when we were to be favoured with her company. but as she is a very rigid roman catholic i cautioned mr. paine, beforehand, against touching upon religious subjects, assuring him at the same time that she felt much interested to make his acquaintance. with much good nature he promised to be _discreet_.... for above four hours he kept every one in astonishment and admiration of his memory, his keen observation of men and manners, his numberless anecdotes of the american indians, of the american war, of franklin, washington, and even of his majesty, of whom he told several curious facts of humour and benevolence. his remarks on genius and taste can never be forgotten by those present. thus far everything went on as i could wish; the sparkling champagne gave a zest to his conversation, and we were all delighted. but alas! alas! an expression relating to his 'age of reason' having been mentioned by one of the company, he broke out immediately. he began with astronomy,--addressing himself to mrs. y.,--he declared that the least inspection of the motion of the stars was a convincing proof that moses was a liar. nothing could stop him. in vain i attempted to change the subject, by employing every artifice in my power, and even attacking with vehemence his political principles. he returned to the charge with unabated ardour. i called upon him for a song though i never heard him sing in my life. he struck up one of his own composition; but the instant he had finished it he resumed his favourite topic. i felt extremely mortified, and remarked that he had forgotten his promise, and that it was not fair to wound so deeply the opinions of the ladies. 'oh!' said he, 'they 'll come again. what a pity it is that people should be so prejudiced!' to which i retorted that their prejudices might be virtues. 'if so,' he replied, 'the blossoms may be beautiful to the eye, but the root is weak.' one of the most extraordinary properties belonging to mr. paine is his power of retaining everything he has written in the course of his life. it is a fact that he can repeat word for word every sentence in his 'common sense,' 'rights of man,' etc., etc. the bible is the only book which he has studied, and there is not a verse in it that is not familiar to him. in shewing me one day the beautiful models of two bridges he had devised he observed that dr. franklin once told him that 'books are written to please, houses built for great men, churches for priests, but no bridges for the people.' these models exhibit an extraordinary degree not only of skill but of taste; and are wrought with extreme delicacy entirely by his own hands. the largest is nearly four feet in length; the iron works, the chains, and every other article belonging to it, were forged and manufactured by himself. it is intended as the model of a bridge which is to be constructed across the delaware, extending feet with only one arch. the other is to be erected over a lesser river, whose name i forget, and is likewise a single arch, and of his own workmanship, excepting the chains, which, instead of iron, are cut out of pasteboard, by the fair hand of his correspondent the 'little corner of the world,' whose indefatigable perseverance is extraordinary. he was offered £ for these models and refused it. the iron bars, which i before mentioned that i noticed in a corner of his room, were also forged by himself, as the model of a crane, of a new description. he put them together, and exhibited the power of the lever to a most surprising degree."' *"letters from france," etc., london, , vols., vo. thirty-three pages of the last letter are devoted to paine. about this time sir robert smith died, and another of the ties to paris was snapped. his beloved bonnevilles promised to follow him to the new world. his old friend rickman has come over to see him off, and observed that "he did not drink spirits, and wine he took moderately; he even objected to any spirits being laid in as a part of his sea-stock." these two friends journeyed together to havre, where, on september st, the way-worn man begins his homeward voyage. poor rickman, the perpetually prosecuted, strains his eyes till the sail is lost, then sits on the beach and writes his poetical tribute to jefferson and america for recalling paine, and a touching farewell to his friend: "thus smooth be thy waves, and thus gentle the breeze, as thou bearest my paine far away; o waft him to comfort and regions of ease, each blessing of freedom and friendship to seize, and bright be his setting sun's ray." who can imagine the joy of those eyes when they once more beheld the distant coast of the new world! fifteen years have passed,--years in which all nightmares became real, and liberty's sun had turned to blood,--since he saw the happy land fading behind him. oh, america, thine old friend who first claimed thy republican independence, who laid aside his quaker coat and fought for thy cause, believing it sacred, is returning to thy breast! this is the man of whom washington wrote: "his writings certainly had a powerful effect on the public mind,--ought they not then to meet an adequate return? he is poor! he is chagrined!" it is not money he needs now, but tenderness, sympathy; for he comes back from an old world that has plundered, outlawed, imprisoned him for his love of mankind. he has seen his dear friends sent to the guillotine, and others are pining in british prisons for publishing his "rights of man,"--principles pronounced by president jefferson and secretary madison to be those of the united states. heartsore, scarred, white-haired, there remains to this veteran of many struggles for humanity but one hope, a kindly welcome, a peaceful haven for his tempest-tossed life. never for an instant has his faith in the heart of america been shaken. already he sees his friend jefferson's arms extended; he sees his old comrades welcoming him to their hearths; he sees his own house and sward at bordentown, and the beautiful kirk-bride mansion beside the delaware,--river of sacred memories, soon to be spanned by his graceful arch. how the ladies he left girls,--fanny. kitty, sally,--will come with their husbands to greet him! how will they admire the latest bridge-model, with lady smith's delicate chain-work for which (such is his estimate of friendship) he refused three thousand pounds, though it would have made his mean room palatial! ah, yes, poor heart, america will soothe your wounds, and pillow your sinking head on her breast! america, with jefferson in power, is herself again. they do not hate men in america for not believing in a celestial robespierre. thou stricken friend of man, who hast appealed from the god of wrath to the god of humanity, see in the distance that maryland coast, which early voyagers called avalon, and sing again your song when first stepping on that shore twenty-seven years ago: "i come to sing that summer is at hand, the summer time of wit, you 'll understand; plants, fruits, and flowers, and all the smiling race that can the orchard or the garden grace; the rose and lily shall address the fair, and whisper sweetly out, 'my dears, take care:' with sterling worth the plant of sense shall rise, and teach the curious to philosophize. "the frost returns? we 'll garnish out the scenes with stately rows of evergreens, trees that will bear the frost, and deck their tops with everlasting flowers, like diamond drops." * "the snowdrop and critic," pennsylvania magazine, . couplets are omitted between those given. chapter xvi. the american inquisition on october th paine landed at baltimore. more than two and a half centuries had elapsed since the catholic lord baltimore appointed a protestant governor of maryland, william stone, who proclaimed in that province ( ) religious freedom and equality. the puritans, crowding thither, from regions of oppression, grew strong enough to exterminate the religion of lord baltimore who had given them shelter, and imprisoned his protestant governor. so, in the new world, passed the inquisition from catholic to protestant hands. in paine's first american pamphlet, he had repeated and extolled the principle of that earliest proclamation of religious liberty. "diversity of religious opinions affords a larger field for christian kindness." the christian kindness now consists in a cessation of sectarian strife that they may unite in stretching the author of the "age of reason" on their common rack, so far as was possible under a constitution acknowledging no deity. this persecution began on the victim's arrival. soon after landing paine wrote to president jefferson: "i arrived here on saturday from havre, after a passage of sixty days. i have several cases of models, wheels, etc., and as soon as i can get them from the vessel and put them on board the packet for georgetown i shall set off to pay my respects to you. your much obliged fellow-citizen,--thomas paine." on reaching washington city paine found his dear friend monroe starting off to resume his ministry in paris, and by him wrote to mr. este, banker in paris (sir robert smith's son-in-law), enclosing a letter to rickman, in london. "you can have no idea," he tells rickman, "of the agitation which my arrival occasioned." every paper is "filled with applause or abuse." "my property in this country has been taken care of by my friends, and is now worth six thousand pounds sterling; which put in the funds will bring me £ sterling a year. remember me in friendship and affection to your wife and family, and in the circle of our friends. i am but just arrived here, and the minister sails in a few hours, so that i have just time to write you this. if he should not sail this tide i will write to my good friend col. bosville, but in any case i request you to wait on him for me.* yours in friendship." * paine still had faith in bosville. he was slow in suspecting any man who seemed enthusiastic for liberty. in this connection it may be mentioned that it is painful to find in the "diary and letters of gouverneur morris," (ii., p. ) a confidential letter to robert r. livingston, minister in france, which seems to assume that minister's readiness to receive slanders of jefferson, who appointed him, and of paine whose friendship he seemed to value. speaking of the president, morris says: "the employment of and confidence in adventurers from abroad will sooner or later rouse the pride and indignation of this country." morris' editor adds: "this was probably an allusion to thomas paine, who had recently returned to america and was supposed to be an intimate friend of mr. jefferson, who, it was said, received him warmly, dined him at the white house, and could be seen walking arm in arm with him on the street any fine afternoon." the allusion to "adventurers" was no doubt meant for paine, but not to his reception by jefferson, for morris' letter was written on august th, some two months before paine's arrival. it was probably meant by morris to damage paine in paris, where it was known that he was intimate with livingston, who had been introduced by him to influential men, among others to sir robert smith and este, bankers. it is to be hoped that livingston resented morris' assumption of his treacherous character. morris, who had shortly before dined at the white house, tells livingston that jefferson is "descending to a condition which i find no decent word to designate." surely livingston's descendants should discover his reply to that letter. the defeated federalists had already prepared their batteries to assail the president for inviting paine to return on a national ship, under escort of a congressman. it required some skill for these adherents of john adams, a unitarian, to set the inquisition in motion. it had to be done, however, as there was no chance of breaking down jefferson but by getting preachers to sink political differences and hound the president's favorite author. out of the north, stronghold of the "british party," came this partisan crusade under a pious flag. in virginia and the south the "age of reason" was fairly discussed, its influence being so great that patrick henry, as we have seen, wrote and burnt a reply. in virginia, deism, though largely prevailing, had not prevented its adherents from supporting the church as an institution. it had become their habit to talk of such matters only in private. jefferson had not ventured to express his views in public, and was troubled at finding himself mixed up with the heresies of paine.* * to the rev. dr. waterhouse (unitarian) who had asked permission to publish a letter of his, jefferson, with a keen remembrance of paine's fate, wrote (july , ): "no, my dear sir, not for the world. into what a hornet's nest would it thrust my head!--the genus irritabile vatmm, on whom argument is lost, and reason is by themselves disdained in matters of religion. don quixote undertook to redress the bodily wrongs of the world, but the redressaient of mental vagaries would be an enterprise more than quixotic i should as soon undertake to bring the crazy skulls of bedlam to sound understanding as to inculcate reason into that of an athanasian. i am old, and tranquillity is now my summum bonum. keep me therefore from the fire and faggot of calvin and his victim servetus. happy in the prospect of a restoration of a primitive christianity, i must leave to younger athletes to lop off the false branches which have been engrafted into it by the mycologists of the middle and modern ages."--ms. belonging to dr. fogg of boston. the author on reaching lovell's hotel, washington, had made known his arrival to the president, and was cordially received; but as the newspapers came in with their abuse, jefferson may have been somewhat intimidated. at any rate paine so thought. eager to disembarrass the administration, paine published a letter in the _national intelligencer_ which had cordially welcomed him, in which he said that he should not ask or accept any office.* * the national intelligencer (nov. d), announcing paine's arrival at baltimore, said, among other things: "be his religious sentiments what they may, it must be their [the american people's] wish that he may live in the undisturbed possession of our common blessings, and enjoy them the more from his active participation in their attainment." the same paper said, nov. th: "thomas paine has arrived in this city [washington] and has received a cordial reception from the whigs of seventy-six, and the republicans of , who have the independence to feel and avow a sentiment of gratitude for his eminent revolutionary services." he meant to continue writing and bring forward his mechanical projects. none the less did the "federalist" press use paine's infidelity to belabor the president, and the author had to write defensive letters from the moment of his arrival. on october th, before paine had landed, the _national intelligencer_ had printed (from a lancaster, pa., journal) a vigorous letter, signed "a republican," showing that the denunciations of paine were not religious, but political, as john adams was also unorthodox. the "federalists" must often have wished that they had taken this warning, for paine's pen was keener than ever, and the opposition had no writer to meet him. his eight "letters to the citizens of the united states" were scathing, eloquent, untrammelled by partisanship, and made a profound impression on the country,--for even the opposition press had to publish them as part of the news of the day.* * they were published in the national intelligencer of november th, d. th, december th, january th, and february d, . of the others one appeared in the aurora (philadelphia), dated from bordentown, n. j., march th, and the last in the trenton true american % dated april st. on christmas day paine wrote the president a suggestion for the purchase of louisiana. the french, to whom louisiana had been ceded by spain, closed new orleans (november th) against foreign ships (including american), and prohibited deposits there by way of the mississippi. this caused much excitement, and the "federalists" showed eagerness to push the administration into a belligerent attitude toward france. paines "common sense" again came to the front, and he sent jefferson the following paper: "of louisiana. "spain has ceded louisiana to france, and france has excluded the americans from n. orleans and the navigation of the mississippi; the people of the western territory have complained of it to their government, and the governt. is of consequence involved and interested in the affair the question then is--what is the best step to be taken? "the one is to begin by memorial and remonstrance against an infraction of a right. the other is by accommodation, still keeping the right in view, but not making it a groundwork. "suppose then the government begin by making a proposal to france to repurchase the cession, made to her by spain, of louisiana, provided it be with the consent of the people of louisiana or a majority thereof. "by beginning on this ground any thing can be said without carrying the appearance of a threat,--the growing power of the western territory can be stated as matter of information, and also the impossibility of restraining them from seizing upon new orleans, and the equal impossibility of france to prevent it. "suppose the proposal attended to, the sum to be given comes next on the carpet this, on the part of america, will be estimated between the value of the commerce, and the quantity of revenue that louisiana will produce. "the french treasury is not only empty, but the government has consumed by anticipation a great part of the next year's revenue. a monied proposal will, i believe, be attended to; if it should, the claims upon france can be stipulated as part of the payment, and that sum can be paid here to the claimants. "------i congratulate you on the _birthday of the new sun_, now called christmas-day; and i make you a present of a thought on louisiana." jefferson next day told paine, what was as yet a profound secret, that he was already contemplating the purchase of louisiana.* * "the idea occurred to me," paine afterwards wrote to the president, "without knowing it had occurred to any other person, and i mentioned it to dr. leib who lived in the same house (lovell's); and, as he appeared pleased with it, i wrote the note and showed it to him before i sent it. the next morning you said to me that measures were already taken in that business. when leib returned from congress i told him of it. 'i knew that,' said he. 'why then,' said i, 'did you not tell me so, because in that case i would not have sent the note.' 'that is the very reason,' said he; 'i would not tell you, because two opinions concurring on a case strengthen it.' i do not, however, like dr. leib's motion about banks. congress ought to be very cautious how it gives encouragement to this speculating project of banking, for it is now carried to an extreme. it is but another kind of striking paper money. neither do i like the notion respecting the recession of the territory [district of columbia.]." dr. michael leib was a representative from pennsylvania. { } the "new sun" was destined to bring his sunstrokes on paine. the pathetic story of his wrongs in england, his martyrdom in france, was not generally known, and, in reply to attacks, he had to tell it himself. he had returned for repose and found himself a sort of battlefield. one of the most humiliating circumstances was the discovery that in this conflict of parties the merits of his religion were of least consideration. the outcry of the country against him, so far as it was not merely political, was the mere ignorant echo of pulpit vituperation. his well-considered theism, fruit of so much thought, nursed amid glooms of the dungeon, was called infidelity or atheism. even some from whom he might have expected discriminating criticism accepted the vulgar version and wrote him in deprecation of a work they had not read. samuel adams, his old friend, caught in this _schwârmerei_, wrote him from boston (november th) that he had "heard" that he had "turned his mind to a defence of infidelity." paine copied for him his creed from the "age of reason," and asked, "my good friend, do you call believing in god infidelity?" this letter to samuel adams (january , ) has indications that paine had developed farther his theistic ideal. "we cannot serve the deity in the manner we serve those who cannot do without that service. he needs no service from us. we can add nothing to eternity. but it is in our power to render a service acceptable to him, and that is, not by praying, but by endeavoring to make his creatures happy. a man does not serve god by praying, for it is himself he is trying to serve; and as to hiring or paying men to pray, as if the deity needed instruction, it is in my opinion an abomination. i have been exposed to and preserved through many dangers, but instead of buffeting the deity with prayers, as if i distrusted him, or must dictate to him, i reposed myself on his protection; and you, my friend, will find, even in your last moments, more consolation in the silence of resignation than in the murmuring wish of a prayer." paine must have been especially hurt by a sentence in the letter of samuel adams in which he said: "our friend, the president of the united states, has been calumniated for his liberal sentiments, by men who have attributed that liberality to a latent design to promote the cause of infidelity." to this he did not reply, but it probably led him to feel a deeper disappointment at the postponement of the interviews he had hoped to enjoy with jefferson after thirteen years of separation. a feeling of this kind no doubt prompted the following note (january th) sent to the president: "i will be obliged to you to send back the models, as i am packing up to set off for philadelphia and new york. my intention in bringing them here in preference to sending them from baltimore to philadelphia, was to have some conversation with you on those matters and others i have not informed you of. but you have not only shown no disposition towards it, but have, in some measure, by a sort of shyness, as if you stood in fear of federal observation, precluded it. i am not the only one, who makes observations of this kind." jefferson at once took care that there should be no misunderstanding as to his regard for paine. the author was for some days a guest in the president's family, where he again met maria jefferson (mrs. eppes) whom he had known in paris. randall says the devout ladies of the family had been shy of paine, as was but natural, on account of the president's reputation for rationalism, but "paine's discourse was weighty, his manners sober and inoffensive; and he left mr. jefferson's mansion the subject of lighter prejudices than he entered it."* * "life of jefferson," ii., sec. randall is mistaken in some statements. paine, as we have seen, did not return on the ship placed at his service by the president; nor did the president's letter appear until long after his return, when he and jefferson felt it necessary in order to disabuse the public mind of the most absurd rumors on the subject. paine's defamers have manifested an eagerness to ascribe his maltreatment to personal faults. this is not the case. for some years after his arrival in the country no one ventured to hint anything disparaging to his personal habits or sobriety. on january , , he wrote to samuel adams: "i have a good state of health and a happy mind; i take care of both by nourishing the first with temperance, and the latter with abundance." had not this been true the "federal" press would have noised it abroad. he was neat in his attire. in all portraits, french and american, his dress is in accordance with the fashion. there was not, so far as i can discover, a suggestion while he was at washington, that he was not a suitable guest for any drawing-room in the capital on february , , probably, was written the following which i find among the cobbett papers: from mr. paine to mr. jefferson, on the occasion of a toast being given at a federal dinner at washington, of "may they never know pleasure who love paine." "i send you, sir, a tale about some feds, who, in their wisdom, got to loggerheads. the case was this, they felt so flat and sunk, they took a glass together and got drunk. such things, you know, are neither new nor rare, for some will hary themselves when in despair. it was the natal day of washington, and that they thought a famous day for fun; for with the learned world it is agreed, the better day the better deed. they talked away, and as the glass went round they grew, in point of wisdom, more profound; for at the bottom of the bottle lies that kind of sense we overlook when wise. come, here 's a toast, cried one, with roar immense, may none know pleasure who love common sense. bravo! cried some,--no, no! some others cried, but left it to the waiter to decide. i think, said he, the case would be more plain, to leave out common sense, and put in paine. on this a mighty noise arose among this drunken, bawling, senseless throng. some said that common sense was all a curse, that making people wiser made them worse; it learned them to be careful of their purse, and not be laid about like babes at nurse, nor yet believe in stories upon trust, which all mankind, to be well governed must; and that the toast was better at the first, and he that did n't think so might be cursed. so on they went, till such a fray arose as all who know what feds are may suppose." on his way northward, to his old home in bor-dentown, paine passed many a remembered spot, but found little or no greeting on his journey. in baltimore a "new jerusalemite," as the sweden-borgian was then called, the rev. mr. hargrove, accosted him with the information that the key to scripture was found, after being lost , years. "then it must be very rusty," answered paine. in philadelphia his old friend dr. benjamin rush never came near him. "his principles," wrote rush to cheetham, "avowed in his 'age of reason,' were so offensive to me that i did not wish to renew my intercourse with him." paine made arrangements for the reception of his bridge models at peale's museum, but if he met any old friend there no mention of it appears. most of those who had made up the old circle--franklin, rittenhouse, muhlenberg--were dead, some were away in congress; but no doubt paine saw george clymer. however, he did not stay long in philadelphia, for he was eager to reach the spot he always regarded as his home, bordentown. and there, indeed, his hope, for a time, seemed to be fulfilled it need hardly be said that his old friend colonel kirkbride gave him hearty welcome. john hall, paine's bridge mechanician, "never saw him jollier," and he was full of mechanical "whims and schemes" they were to pursue together. jefferson was candidate for the presidency, and paine entered heartily into the canvass; which was not prudent, but he knew nothing of prudence. the issue not only concerned an old friend, but was turning on the question of peace with france. on march th he writes against the "federalist" scheme for violently seizing new orleans. at a meeting in april, over which colonel kirkbride presides, paine drafts a reply to an attack on jefferson's administration, circulated in new york. on april st he writes the refutation of an attack on jefferson, _apropos_ of the national vessel offered for his return, which had been coupled with a charge that paine had proposed to the directory an invasion of america! in june he writes about his bridge models (then at peale's museum, philadelphia), and his hope to span the delaware and the schuylkill with iron arches. here is a letter written to jefferson from bordentown (august d) containing suggestions concerning the beginning of government in louisiana, from which it would appear that paine's faith in the natural inspiration of _vox populi_ was still imperfect: "i take it for granted that the present inhabitants know little or nothing of election and representation as constituting government. they are therefore not in an immediate condition to exercise those powers, and besides this they are perhaps too much under the influence of their priests to be sufficiently free. "i should suppose that a government _provisoire_ formed by congress for three, five, or seven years would be the best mode of beginning. in the meantime they may be initiated into the practice by electing their municipal government, and after some experience they will be in train to elect their state government. i think it would not only be good policy but right to say, that the people shall have the right of electing their church ministers, otherwise their ministers will hold by authority from the pope. i do not make it a compulsive article, but to put it in their power to use it when they please. it will serve to hold the priests in a stile of good behavior, and also to give the people an idea of elective rights. anything, they say, will do to learn upon, and therefore they may as well begin upon priests. "the present prevailing language is french and spanish, but it will be necessary to establish schools to teach english as the laws ought to be in the language of the union. "as soon as you have formed any plan for settling the lands i shall be glad to know it. my motive for this is because there are thousands and tens of thousands in england and ireland and also in scotland who are friends of mine by principle, and who would gladly change their present country and condition. many among them, for i have friends in all ranks of life in those countries, are capable of becoming monied purchasers to any amount. "if you can give me any hints respecting louisiana, the quantity in square miles, the population, and amount of the present revenue i will find an opportunity of making some use of it. when the formalities of the cession are compleated, the next thing will be to take possession, and i think it would be very consistent for the president of the united states to do this in person. "what is dayton gone to new orleans for? is he there as an agent for the british as blount was said to be?" of the same date is a letter to senator breck-enridge, of kentucky, forwarded through jefferson: "my dear friend,--not knowing your place of residence in kentucky i send this under cover to the president desiring him to fill up the direction. "i see by the public papers and the proclamation for calling congress, that the cession of louisiana has been obtained. the papers state the purchase to be , , dollars in the six per cents and , , dollars to be paid to american claimants who have furnished supplies to france and the french colonies and are yet unpaid, making on the whole , , dollars. "i observe that the faction of the feds who last winter were for going to war to obtain possession of that country and who attached so much importance to it that no expense or risk ought be spared to obtain it, have now altered their tone and say it is not worth having, and that we are better without it than with it. thus much for their consistency. what follows is for your private consideration. "the second section of the d article of the constitution says, the 'president shall have power by and with the consent of the senate to make treaties provided two thirds of the senators present concur.' "a question may be supposed to arise on the present case, which is, under what character is the cession to be considered and taken up in congress, whether as a treaty, or in some other shape? i go to examine this point. "though the word, treaty, as a word, is unlimited in its meaning and application, it must be supposed to have a denned meaning in the constitution. it there means treaties of alliance or of navigation and commerce--things which require a more profound deliberation than common acts do, because they entail on the parties a future reciprocal responsibility and become afterwards a supreme law on each of the contracting countries which neither can annull. but the cession of louisiana to the united states has none of these features in it it is a sale and purchase. a sole act which when finished, the parties have no more to do with each other than other buyers and sellers have. it has no future reciprocal consequences (which is one of the marked characters of a treaty) annexed to it; and the idea of its becoming a supreme law to the parties reciprocally (which is another of the characters of a treaty) is inapplicable in the present case. there remains nothing for such a law to act upon. "i love the restriction in the constitution which takes from the executive the power of making treaties of his own will: and also the clause which requires the consent of two thirds of the senators, because we cannot be too cautious in involving and entangling ourselves with foreign powers; but i have an equal objection against extending the same power to the senate in cases to which it is not strictly and constitutionally applicable, because it is giving a nullifying power to a minority. treaties, as already observed, are to have future consequences and whilst they remain, remain always in execution externally as well as internally, and therefore it is better to run the risk of losing a good treaty for the want of two thirds of the senate than be exposed to the danger of ratifying a bad one by a small majority. but in the present case no operation is to follow but what acts itself within our own territory and under our own laws. we are the sole power concerned after the cession is accepted and the money paid, and therefore the cession is not a treaty in the constitutional meaning of the word subject to be rejected by a minority in the senate. "the question whether the cession shall be accepted and the bargain closed by a grant of money for the purpose, (which i take to be the sole question) is a case equally open to both houses of congress, and if there is any distinction of _formal right_, it ought according to the constitution, as a money transaction, to begin in the house of representatives. "i suggest these matters that the senate may not be taken unawares, for i think it not improbable that some fed, who intends to negative the cession, will move to take it up as if it were a treaty of alliance or of navigation and commerce. "the object here is an increase of territory for a valuable consideration. it is altogether a home concern--a matter of domestic policy. the only real ratification is the payment of the money, and as all verbal ratification without this goes for nothing, it would be a waste of time and expense to debate on the verbal ratification distinct from the money ratification. the shortest way, as it appears to me, would be to appoint a committee to bring in a report on the president's message, and for that committee to report a bill for the payment of the money. the french government, as the seller of the property, will not consider anything ratification but the payment of the money contracted for. "there is also another point, necessary to be aware of, which is, to accept it in toto. any alteration or modification in it, or annexed as a condition is so far fatal, that it puts it in the power of the other party to reject the whole and propose new terms. there can be no such thing as ratifying in part, or with a condition annexed to it and the ratification to be binding. it is still a continuance of the négociation. "it ought to be presumed that the american ministers have done to the best of their power and procured the best possible terms, and that being immediately on the spot with the other party they were better judges of the whole, and of what could, or could not be done, than any person at this distance, and unacquainted with many of the circumstances of the case, can possibly be. "if a treaty, a contract, or a cession be good upon the whole, it is ill policy to hazard the whole, by an experiment to get some trifle in it altered. the right way of proceeding in such case is to make sure of the whole by ratifying it, and then instruct the minister to propose a clause to be added to the instrument to obtain the amendment or alteration wished for. this was the method congress took with respect to the treaty of commerce with france in . congress ratified the whole and proposed two new articles which were agreed to by france and added to the treaty. "there is according to newspaper account an article which admits french and spanish vessels on the same terms as american vessels. but this does not make it a commercial treaty. it is only one of the items in the payment: and it has this advantage, that it joins spain with france in making the cession and is an encouragement to commerce and new settlers. "with respect to the purchase, admitting it to be millions dollars, it is an advantageous purchase. the revenue alone purchased as an annuity or rent roll is worth more--at present i suppose the revenue will pay five per cent for the purchase money. "i know not if these observations will be of any use to you. i am in a retired village and out of the way of hearing the talk of the great world. but i see that the feds, at least some of them, are changing their tone and now reprobating the acquisition of louisiana; and the only way they can take to lose the affair will be to take it up as they would a treaty of commerce and annull it by a minority; or entangle it with some condition that will render the ratification of no effect. "i believe in this state (jersey) we shall have a majority at the next election. we gain some ground and lose none anywhere. i have half a disposition to visit the western world next spring and go on to new orleans. they are a new people and unacquainted with the principles of representative government and i think i could do some good among them. "as the stage-boat which was to take this letter to the post-office does not depart till to-morrow, i amuse myself with continuing the subject after i had intended to close it. "i know little and can learn but little of the extent and present population of louisiana. after the cession be com-pleated and the territory annexed to the united states it will, i suppose, be formed into states, one, at least, to begin with. "the people, as i have said, are new to us and we to them and a great deal will depend on a right beginning. as they have been transferred backward and forward several times from one european government to another it is natural to conclude they have no fixed prejudices with respect to foreign attachments, and this puts them in a fit disposition for their new condition. the established religion is roman; but in what state it is as to exterior ceremonies (such as processions and celebrations), i know not. had the cession to france continued with her, religion i suppose would have been put on the same footing as it is in that country, and there no ceremonial of religion can appear on the streets or highways; and the same regulation is particularly necessary now or there will soon be quarrels and tumults between the old settlers and the new. the yankees will not move out of the road for a little wooden jesus stuck on a stick and carried in procession nor kneel in the dirt to a wooden virgin mary. as we do not govern the territory as provinces but incorporated as states, religion there must be on the same footing it is here, and catholics have the same rights as catholics have with us and no others. as to political condition the idea proper to be held out is, that we have neither conquered them, nor bought them, but formed a union with them and they become in consequence of that union a part of the national sovereignty. "the present inhabitants and their descendants will be a majority for some time, but new emigrations from the old states and from europe, and intermarriages, will soon change the first face of things, and it is necessary to have this in mind when the first measures shall be taken. everything done as an expedient grows worse every day, for in proportion as the mind grows up to the full standard of sight it disclaims the expedient. america had nearly been ruined by expedients in the first stages of the revolution, and perhaps would have been so, had not 'common sense' broken the charm and the declaration of independence sent it into banishment. "yours in friendship "thomas paine.* "remember me in the circle of your friends." * the original is in possession of mr. william f. havermeyer, jr. mr. e. m. woodward, in his account of bordentown, mentions among the "traditions" of the place, that paine used to meet a large number of gentlemen at the "washington house," kept by debora applegate, where he conversed freely "with any proper person who approached him." "mr. paine was too much occupied in literary pursuits and writing to spend a great deal of his time here, but he generally paid several visits during the day. his drink was invariably brandy. in walking he was generally absorbed in deep thought, seldom noticed any one as he passed, unless spoken to, and in going from his home to the tavern was frequently observed to cross the street several times. it is stated that several members of the church were turned from their faith by him, and on this account, and the general feeling of the community against him for his opinions on religious subjects, he was by the mass of the people held in odium, which feeling to some extent was extended to col. kirkbride." these "traditions" were recorded in . paine's "great power of conversation" was remembered. but among the traditions, even of the religious, there is none of any excess in drinking. possibly the turning of several church-members from their faith may not have been so much due to paine as to the parsons, in showing their "religion" as a gorgon turning hearts to stone against a benefactor of mankind. one day paine went with colonel kirkbride to visit samuel rogers, the colonels brother-in-law, at bellevue, across the river. as he entered the door rogers turned his back, refusing his old friend's hand, because it had written the "age of reason." presently borden-town was placarded with pictures of the devil flying away with paine. the pulpits set up a chorus of vituperation. why should the victim spare the altar on which he is sacrificed, and justice also? dogma had chosen to grapple with the old man in its own way. that it was able to break a driven leaf paine could admit as truly as job; but he could as bravely say: withdraw thy hand from me, and i will answer thee, or thou shalt answer me! in paine too it will be proved that such outrages on truth and friendship, on the rights of thought, proceed from no god, but from the destructive forces once personified as the adversary of man. early in march paine visited new york, to see monroe before his departure for france. he drove with kirkbride to trenton; but so furious was the pious mob, he was refused a seat in the trenton stage. they dined at government house, but when starting for brunswick were hooted these were the people for whose liberties paine had marched that same road on foot, musket in hand. at trenton insults were heaped on the man who by camp-fires had written the _crisis_, which animated the conquerors of the hessians at that place, in "the times that tried men's souls." these people he helped to make free,--free to cry _crucify!_ paine had just written to jefferson that the louisianians were "perhaps too much under the influence of their priests to be sufficiently free." probably the same thought occurred to him about people nearer home, when he presently heard of colonel kirkbride's sudden unpopularity, and death. on october d paine lost this faithful friend.* * it should be stated that burlington county, in which bordentown is situated, was preponderantly federalist, and that trenton was in the hands of a federalist mob of young well-to-do rowdies. the editor of the _true american_, a republican paper to which paine had contributed, having commented on a fourth of july orgie of those rowdies in a house associated with the revolution, was set upon with bludgeons on july th, and suffered serious injuries. the grand jury refused to present the federalist ruffians, though the evidence was clear, and the mob had free course. the facts of the paine mob are these: after dining at government house, trenton, kirkbride applied for a seat on the new york stage for paine. the owner, voorhis, cursed paine as "a deist," and said, "i 'll be damned if he shall go in my stage." another stage-owner also refused, saying, "my stage and horses were once struck by lightning, and i don't want them to suffer again." when paine and kirkbride had entered their carriage a mob surrounded them with a drum, playing the "rogue's march." the local reporter (_true american_) says, "mr. paine discovered not the least emotion of fear or anger, but calmly observed that such conduct had no tendency to hurt his feelings or injure his fame." the mob then tried to frighten the horse with the drum, and succeeded, but the two gentlemen reached a friend's house in brunswick in safety. a letter from trenton had been written to the stage-master there also, to prevent paine from securing a seat, whether with success does not appear. chapter xvii. new rochelle and the bonnevilles the bonnevilles, with whom paine had resided in paris, were completely impoverished after his departure. they resolved to follow paine to america, depending on his promise of aid should they do so. foreseeing perils in france, nicolas, unable himself to leave at once, hurried off his wife and children--benjamin, thomas, and louis. madame bonneville would appear to have arrived in august, . i infer this because paine writes, september d, to jefferson from stonington, connecticut; and later letters show that he had been in new york, and afterwards placed thomas paine bonneville with the rev. mr. foster (universalist) of stonington for education. madame bonneville was placed in his house at bordentown, where she was to teach french. at new york, paine found both religious and political parties sharply divided over him. at lovett's hotel, where he stopped, a large dinner was given him, march th, seventy being present one of the active promoters of this dinner was james cheetham, editor of the _american citizen_, who, after seriously injuring paine by his patronage, became his malignant enemy. in the summer of the political atmosphere was in a tempestuous condition, owing to the widespread accusation that aaron burr had intrigued with the federalists against jefferson to gain the presidency. there was a society in new york called "republican greens," who, on independence day, had for a toast "thomas paine, the man of the people," and who seem to have had a piece of music called the "rights of man." paine was also apparently the hero of that day at white plains, where a vast crowd assembled, "over , ," among the toasts being: "thomas paine--the bold advocate of rational liberty--the people's friend." he probably reached new york again in august a letter for "thomas payne" is in the advertised letter-list of august th, and in the _american citizen_ (august th) are printed (and misprinted) "lines, extempore, by thomas paine, july, ."* * on july th the _evening post _(edited by william coleman) tries to unite republicanism and infidelity by stating that part i. of the "age of reason" was sent in ms. to mr. fellows of new york, and in the following year part ii. was gratuitously distributed "from what is now the office of the aurora." on september th that paper publishes a poem about paine, ending: "quick as the lightning's vivid flash the poet's eye o'er europe rolls; sees battles rage, hears tempests crash, and dims at horror's threatening scowls. "mark ambition's ruthless king, with crimsoned banners scathe the globe; while trailing after conquest's wing, man's festering wounds his demons probe. "palled with streams of reeking gore that stain the proud imperial day, he turns to view the western shore, where freedom holds her boundless sway. "'t is here her sage triumphant sways an empire in the people's love; 't is here the sovereign will obeys no king but him who rules above." the verses, crudely expressing the contrast between president jefferson and king george--or napoleon, it is not clear which,--sufficiently show that paine's genius was not extempore. his reputation as a patriotic minstrel was high; his "hail, great republic," to the tune of "rule britannia," was the established fourth-of-july song, and it was even sung at the dinner of the american consul in london (erving) march , , the anniversary of jefferson's election. possibly the extempore lines were sung on some fourth-of-july occasion. i find "thomas paine" and the "rights of man" favorite toasts at republican celebrations in virginia also at this time. in new york we may discover paine's coming and going by rancorous paragraphs concerning him in the _evening post_.* "and having spent a lengthy life in evil, return again unto thy parent devil!" perhaps the most malignant wrong done paine in this paper was the adoption of his signature, "common sense," by one of its contributors! another paragraph says that franklin hired paine in london to come to america and write in favor of the revolution,--a remarkable example of federalist heredity from "toryism." on september th the paper prints a letter purporting to have been found by a waiter in lovett's hotel after paine's departure,--a long letter to paine, by some red-revolutionary friend, of course gloating over the exquisite horrors filling europe in consequence of the "rights of man." the pretended letter is dated "jan. , ," and signed "j. oldney." the paper's correspondent pretends to have found out oldney, and conversed with him. no doubt many simple people believed the whole thing genuine. the most learned physician in new york, dr. nicholas romayne, invited paine to dinner, where he was met by john pintard, and other eminent citizens. pintard said to paine: "i have read and re-read your 'age of reason,' and any doubts which i before entertained of the truth of revelation have been removed by your logic. yes, sir, your very arguments against christianity have convinced me of its truth." "well then," answered paine, "i may return to my couch to-night with the consolation that i have made at least one christian."* this authentic anecdote is significant john pintard, thus outdone by paine in politeness, founded the tammany society, and organized the democratic party. when the "rights of man" appeared, the book and its author were the main toasts of the tammany celebrations; but it was not so after the "age of reason" had appeared. for john pintard was all his life a devotee of dutch reformed orthodoxy. tammany, having begun with the populace, had by this time got up somewhat in society. as a rule the "gentry" were federalists, though they kept a mob in their back yard to fly at the democrats on occasion. but with jefferson in the presidential chair, and clinton vice-president, tammany was in power. to hold this power tammany had to court the clergy. so there was no toast to paine in the wigwam of .** * dr. francis' "old new york," p. . ** the new york daily advertiser published the whole of part i. of the "rights of man" in (may - ), the editor being then john pintard. at the end of the publication a poetical tribute to paine was printed. four of the lines run: "rous'd by the reason of his manly page, once more shall paine a listening world engage; from reason's source a bold reform he brings, by raising up mankind he pulls down kings." president jefferson was very anxious about the constitutional points involved in his purchase of louisiana, and solicited paine's views on the whole subject. paine wrote to him extended communications, among which was the letter of september d, from stonington. the interest of the subject is now hardly sufficient to warrant publication of the whole of this letter, which, however, possesses much interest. at the great celebration (october , ) of the third centenary of the discovery of america, by the sons of st tammany, new york, the first man toasted after columbus was paine, and next to paine "the rights of man." they were also extolled in an ode composed for the occasion, and sung. "your two favours of the and ult. reached me at this place on the th inst.; also one from mr. madison. i do not suppose that the framers of the constitution thought anything about the acquisition of new territory, and even if they did it was prudent to say nothing about it, as it might have suggested to foreign nations the idea that we contemplated foreign conquest. it appears to me to be one of those cases with which the constitution had nothing to do, and which can be judged of only by the circumstances of the times when such a case shall occur. the constitution could not foresee that spain would cede louisiana to france or to england, and therefore it could not determine what our conduct should be in consequence of such an event. the cession makes no alteration in the constitution; it only extends the principles of it over a larger territory, and this certainly is within the morality of the constitution, and not contrary to, nor beyond, the expression or intention of any of its articles... were a question to arise it would apply, not to the cession, because it violates no article of the constitution, but to ross and morris's motion. the constitution empowers congress to declare war, but to make war without declaring it is anti-constitutional. it is like attacking an unarmed man in the dark. there is also another reason why no such question should arise. the english government is but in a tottering condition and if bonaparte succeeds, that government will break up. in that case it is not improbable we may obtain canada, and i think that bermuda ought to belong to the united states. in its present condition it is a nest for piratical privateers. this is not a subject to be spoken of, but it may be proper to have it in mind. "the latest news we have from europe in this place is the insurrection in dublin. it is a disheartening circumstance to the english government, as they are now putting arms into the hands of people who but a few weeks before they would have hung had they found a pike in their possession. i think the probability is in favour of the descent [on england by bonaparte]... "i shall be employed the ensuing winter in cutting two or three thousand cords of wood on my farm at new rochelle for the new york market distant twenty miles by water. the wood is worth / dollars per load as it stands. this will furnish me with ready money, and i shall then be ready for whatever may present itself of most importance next spring. i had intended to build myself a house to my own taste, and a workshop for my mechanical operations, and make a collection, as authors say, of my works, which with what i have in manuscript will make four, or five octavo volumes, and publish them by subscription, but the prospects that are now opening with respect to england hold me in suspence. "it has been customary in a president's discourse to say something about religion. i offer you a thought on this subject. the word, religion, used as a word _en masse_ has no application to a country like america. in catholic countries it would mean exclusively the religion of the romish church; with the jews, the jewish religion; in england, the protestant religion or in the sense of the english church, the established religion; with the deists it would mean deism; with the turks, mahometism &c, &c, as well as i recollect it is _lego, religo, relegio, religion_, that is say, tied or bound by an oath or obligation. the french use the word properly; when a woman enters a convent, she is called a novitiate; when she takes the oath, she is a _religieuse_, that is, she is bound by an oath. now all that we have to do, as a government with the word religion, in this country, is with the civil rights of it, and not at all with its _creeds_. instead therefore of using the word religion, as a word en masse, as if it meant a creed, it would be better to speak only of its civil rights; _that all denominations of religion are equally protected, that none are dominant, none inferior, that the rights of conscience are equal to every denomination and to every individual and that it is the duty of government to preserve this equality of conscientious rights_. a man cannot be called a hypocrite for defending the civil rights of religion, but he may be suspected of insincerity in defending its creeds. "i suppose you will find it proper to take notice of the impressment of american seamen by the captains of british vessels, and procure a list of such captains and report them to their government. this pretence of searching for british seamen is a new pretence for visiting and searching american vessels.... "i am passing some time at this place at the house of a friend till the wood cutting time comes on, and i shall engage some cutters here and then return to new rochelle. i wrote to mr. madison concerning the report that the british government had cautioned ours not to pay the purchase money for louisiana, as they intended to take it for themselves. i have received his [negative] answer, and i pray you make him my compliments. "we are still afflicted with the yellow fever, and the doctors are disputing whether it is an imported or a domestic disease. would it not be a good measure to prohibit the arrival of all vessels from the west indies from the last of june to the middle of october. if this was done this session of congress, and we escaped the fever next summer, we should always know how to escape it. i question if performing quarantine is a sufficient guard. the disease may be in the cargo, especially that part which is barrelled up, and not in the persons on board, and when that cargo is opened on our wharfs, the hot steaming air in contact with the ground imbibes the infection. i can conceive that infected air can be barrelled up, not in a hogshead of rum, nor perhaps sucre, but in a barrel of coffee. i am badly off in this place for pen and ink, and short of paper. i heard yesterday from boston that our old friend s. adams was at the point of death. accept my best wishes." when madame bonneville left france it was understood that her husband would soon follow, but he did not come, nor was any letter received from him. this was probably the most important allusion in a letter of paine, dated new york, march , , to "citizen skipwith, agent commercial d'amérique, paris." "dear friend--i have just a moment to write you a line by a friend who is on the point of sailing for bordeaux. the republican interest is now compleatly triumphant. the change within this last year has been great. we have now states out of ,--n. hampshire, mass. and connecticut stand out. i much question if any person will be started against mr. jefferson. burr is rejected for the vice-presidency; he is now putting up for governor of n. york. mr. clinton will be run for vice-president. morgan lewis, chief justice of the state of n. y. is the republican candidate for governor of that state. "i have not received a line from paris, except a letter from este, since i left it. we have now been nearly days without news from europe. what is barlow about? i have not heard anything from him except that he is _always_ coming. what is bonneville about? not a line has been received from aim. respectful compliments to mr. livingston and family. yours in friendship." madame bonneville, unable to speak english, found bordentown dull, and soon turned up in new york. she ordered rooms in wilburn's boarding-house, where paine was lodging, and the author found the situation rather complicated the family was absolutely without means of their own, and paine, who had given them a comfortable home at bordentown, was annoyed by their coming on to new york. anxiety is shown in the following letter written at gold st., new york, march th, to "mr. hyer, bordenton, n. j." "dear sir,--i received your letter by mr. nixon, and also a former letter, but i have been so unwell this winter with a fit of gout, tho' not so bad as i had at bordenton about twenty years ago, that i could not write, and after i got better i got a fall on the ice in the garden where i lodge that threw me back for above a month. i was obliged to get a person to copy off the letter to the people of england, published in the aurora, march , as i dictated it verbally, for all the time my complaint continued. my health and spirits were as good as ever. it was my intention to have cut a large quantity of wood for the new york market, and in that case you would have had the money directly, but this accident and the gout prevented my doing anything. i shall now have to take up some money upon it, which i shall do by the first of may to put mrs. bonneville into business, and i shall then discharge her bill. in the mean time i wish you to receive a quarter's rent due on the st of april from mrs richardson, at $ per ann., and to call on mrs. read for or dollars, or what you can get, and to give a receipt in my name. col. kirkbride should have discharged your bill, it was what he engaged to do. mrs. wharton owes for the rent of the house while she lived in it, unless col. kirkbride has taken it into his accounts. samuel hileyar owes me dollars lent him in hard money. mr. nixon spake to me about hiring my house, but as i did not know if mrs. richardson intended to stay in it or quit it i could give no positive answer, but said i would write to you about it. israel butler also writes me about taking at the same rent as richardson pays. i will be obliged to you to let the house as you may judge best. i shall make a visit to bordenton in the spring, and i shall call at your house first. "there have been several arrivals here in short passages from england. p. porcupine, i see, is become the panegyrist of bonaparte. you will see it in the aurora of march , and also the message of bonaparte to the french legislature. it is a good thing. "mrs. bonneville sends her compliments. she would have wrote, but she cannot yet venture to write in english. i congratulate you on your new appointment. "yours in friendship."* * i am indebted for this letter to the n. y. hist. society, which owns the original ought to be fulfilled." the following passages may be quoted: "in casting my eye over england and america, and comparing them together, the difference is very striking. the two countries were created by the same power, and peopled from the same stock. what then has caused the difference? have those who emigrated to america improved, or those whom they left behind degenerated?... we see america flourishing in peace, cultivating friendship with all nations, and reducing her public debt and taxes, incurred by the revolution. on the contrary we see england almost perpetually in war, or warlike disputes, and her debt and taxes continually increasing. could we suppose a stranger, who knew nothing of the origin of the two nations, he would from observation conclude that america was the old country, experienced and sage, and england the new, eccentric and wild. scarcely had england drawn home her troops from america, after the revolutionary war, than she was on the point of plunging herself into a war with holland, on account of the stadtholder; then with russia; then with spain on account of the nootka cat-skins; and actually with france to prevent her revolution. scarcely had she made peace with france, and before she had fulfilled her own part of the treaty, than she declared war again, to avoid fulfilling the treaty. in her treaty of peace with america, she engaged to evacuate the western posts within six months; but, having obtained peace, she refused to fulfil the conditions, and kept possession of the posts, and embroiled herself in an indian war.* in her treaty of peace with france, she engaged to evacuate malta within three months; but, having obtained peace, she refused to evacuate malta, and began a new war." * paine's case is not quite sound at this point. the americans had not, on their side, fulfilled the condition of paying their english debts. ( ) paine's letter alluded to was printed in the _aurora_ with the following note: "to the editor.--as the good sense of the people in their elections has now put the affairs of america in a prosperous condition at home and abroad, there is nothing immediately important for the subject of a letter. i therefore send you a piece on another subject." the piece presently appeared as a pamphlet of sixteen pages with the following title: "thomas paine to the people of england, on the invasion of england. philadelphia: printed at the temple of reason press, arch street. ." once more the hope had risen in paine's breast that napoleon was to turn liberator, and that england was to be set free. "if the invasion succeed i hope bonaparte will remember that this war has not been provoked by the people. it is altogether the act of the government without their consent or knowledge; and though the late peace appears to have been insidious from the first, on the part of the government, it was received by the people with a sincerity of joy." he still hopes that the english people may be able to end the trouble peacefully, by compelling parliament to fulfil the treaty of amiens. paine points out that the failure of the french revolution was due to "the provocative interference of foreign powers, of which pitt was the principal and vindictive agent," and affirms the success of representative government in the united states after thirty years' trial. "the people of england have now two revolutions before them,--the one as an example, the other as a warning. their own wisdom will direct them what to choose and what to avoid; and in everything which regards their happiness, combined with the common good of mankind, i wish them honor and success." during this summer, paine wrote a brilliant paper on a memorial sent to congress from the french inhabitants of louisiana. they demanded immediate admission to equal statehood, also the right to continue the importation of negro slaves. paine reminds the memorialists of the "mischief caused in france by the possession of power before they understood principles." after explaining their position, and the freedom they have acquired by the merits of others, he points out their ignorance of human "rights" as shown in their guilty notion that to enslave others is among them. "dare you put up a petition to heaven for such a power, without fearing to be struck from the earth by its justice? why, then, do you ask it of man against man? do you want to renew in louisiana the horrors of domingo?" this article (dated september d) produced great effect. john randolph of roanoke, in a letter to albert gallatin (october th), advises "the printing of... thousand copies of tom paine's answer to their remonstrance, and transmitting them by as many thousand troops, who can speak a language perfectly intelligible to the people of louisiana, whatever that of their governor may be." nicolas bonneville still giving no sign, and madame being uneconomical in her notions of money, paine thought it necessary--morally and financially--to let it be known that he was not responsible for her debts. when, therefore, wilburn applied to him for her board ($ ), paine declined to pay, and was sued. paine pleaded _non assumpsit_, and, after gaining the case, paid wilburn the money. it presently turned out that the surveillance of nicolas bonneville did not permit him to leave france, and, as he was not permitted to resume his journal or publications, he could neither join his family nor assist them. paine now resolved to reside on his farm. the following note was written to col. john fellows. it is dated at new rochelle, july th: "fellow citizen,--as the weather is now getting hot at new york, and the people begin to get out of town, you may as well come up here and help me settle my accounts with the man who lives on the place. you will be able to do this better than i shall, and in the mean time i can go on with my literary works, without having my mind taken off by affairs of a different kind. i have received a packet from governor clinton, enclosing what i wrote for. if you come up by the stage you will stop at the post-office, and they will direct you the way to the farm. it is only a pleasant walk. i send a price for the prospect; if the plan mentioned in it is pursued, it will open a way to enlarge and give establishment to the deistical church; but of this and some other things we will talk when you come up, and the sooner the better. yours in friendship." paine was presently enjoying himself on his farm at new rochelle, and madame bonneville began to keep house for him. "it is a pleasant and healthy situation [he wrote to jefferson somewhat later], commanding a prospect always green and peaceable, as new rochelle produces a great deal of grass and hay. the farm contains three hundred acres, about one hundred of which is meadow land, one hundred grazing and village land, and the remainder woodland. it is an oblong about a mile and a half in length. i have sold off sixty-one acres and a half for four thousand and twenty dollars. with this money i shall improve the other part, and build an addition feet by to the present dwelling." he goes on into an architectural description, with drawings, of the arched roof he intends to build, the present form of roof being "unpleasing to the eye." he also draws an oak floor such as they make in paris, which he means to imitate. with a black cook, rachel gidney, the family seemed to be getting on with fair comfort; but on christmas eve an event occurred which came near bringing paine's plans to an abrupt conclusion. this is related in a letter to william carver, new york, dated january th, at new rochelle. "esteemed friend,--i have recd, two letters from you, one giving an account of your taking thomas to mr. foster*--the other dated jany. --i did not answer the first because i hoped to see you the next saturday or the saturday after. * thomas bonneville, paine's godson, at school in stonington. what you heard of a gun being fired into the room is true--robert and rachel were both gone out to keep christmas eve and about eight o'clock at night the gun were fired. i ran immediately out, one of mr. dean's boys with me, but the person that had done it was gone. i directly suspected who it was, and i halloed to him by name, that _he was discovered_. i did this that the party who fired might know i was on the watch. i cannot find any ball, but whatever the gun was charged with passed through about three or four inches below the window making a hole large enough to a finger to go through--the muzzle must have been very near as the place is black with the powder, and the glass of the window is shattered to pieces. mr shute after examining the place and getting what information could be had, issued a warrant to take up derrick, and after examination committed him. "he is now on bail (five hundred dollars) to take his trial at the supreme court in may next. derrick owes me forty-eight dollars for which i have his note, and he was to work it out in making stone fence which he has not even begun and besides this i have had to pay forty-two pounds eleven shillings for which i had passed my word for him at mr. pelton's store. derrick borrowed the gun under pretence of giving mrs. bayeaux a christmas gun. he was with purdy about two hours before the attack on the house was made and he came from thence to dean's half drunk and brought with him a bottle of rum, and purdy was with him when he was taken up. "i am exceedingly well in health and shall always be glad to see you. hubbs tells me that your horse is getting better. mrs. shute sent for the horse and took him when the first snow came but he leaped the fences and came back. hubbs says there is a bone broke. if this be the case i suppose he has broke or cracked it in leaping a fence when he was lame on the other hind leg, and hung with his hind legs in the fence. i am glad to hear what you tell me of thomas. he shall not want for anything that is necessary if he be a good boy for he has no friend but me. you have not given me any account about the meeting house. remember me to our friends. yours in friendship." the window of the room said to have been paine's study is close to the ground, and it is marvellous that he was not murdered.** * i am indebted for this letter to dr. clair j. grèce, of england, whose uncle, daniel constable, probably got it from carver. ** derrick (or dederick) appears by the records at white plains to have been brought up for trial may , , and to have been recognized in the sum of $ for his appearance at the next court of oyer and terminer and general gaol delivery, and in the meantime to keep the peace towards the people, and especially towards thomas payne (sic). paine, christopher hubbs, and andrew a. dean were recognized in $ to appear and give evidence against derrick. nothing further appears in the records (examined for me by mr. b. d. washburn up to ). it is pretty certain that paine did not press the charges. the most momentous change which had come over america during paine's absence was the pro-slavery reaction. this had set in with the first congress. an effort was made by the virginia representatives to check the slave traffic by imposing a duty of $ on each negro imported, but was defeated by an alliance of members from more southern states and professedly antislavery men of the north. the southern leader in this first victory of slavery in congress was major jackson of georgia, who defended the institution as scriptural and civilizing. the aged dr. franklin published (federal gazette, march , ) a parody of jackson's speech, purporting to be a speech uttered in by a divan of algiers in defence of piracy and slavery, against a sect of erika, or purists, who had petitioned for their suppression. franklin was now president of the american antislavery society, founded in philadelphia in five weeks after the appearance of paine's scheme of emancipation (march , ). dr. rush was also active in the cause, and to him paine wrote (march , ) the letter on the subject elsewhere quoted (l, p. ). this letter was published by rush (columbian magazine, vol. ii., p. ) while the country was still agitated by the debate which was going on in congress at the time when it was written, on a petition of the antislavery society, signed by franklin,--his last public act. franklin died april , , twenty-five days after the close of the debate, in which he was bitterly denounced by the proslavery party. washington had pronounced the petition "inopportune,"--his presidential mansion in new york was a few steps from the slave-market,--jefferson (now secretary of state) had no word to say for it, madison had smoothed over the matter by a compromise. thenceforth slavery had become a suppressed subject, and the slave trade, whenever broached in congress, had maintained its immunity. in , even under jefferson's administration, the negroes fleeing from oppression in domingo were forbidden asylum in america, because it was feared that they would incite servile insurrections. that the united states, under presidency of jefferson, should stand aloof from the struggle of the negroes in domingo for liberty, cut paine to the heart. unperturbed by the attempt made on his own life a few days before, he wrote to jefferson on new year's day, , (from new rochelle,) what may be regarded as an appeal: { } "dear sir,--i have some thoughts of coming to washington this winter, as i may as well spend a part of it there as elsewhere. but lest bad roads or any other circumstance should prevent me i suggest a thought for your consideration, and i shall be glad if in this case, as in that of louisiana, we may happen to think alike without knowing what each other had thought of. "the affair of domingo will cause some trouble in either of the cases in which it now stands. if armed merchantmen force their way through the blockading fleet it will embarrass us with the french government; and, on the other hand, if the people of domingo think that we show a partiality to the french injurious to them there is danger they will turn pirates upon us, and become more injurious on account of vicinity than the barbary powers, and england will encourage it, as she encourages the indians. domingo is lost to france either as to the government or the possession of it, but if a way could be found out to bring about a peace between france and domingo through the mediation, and under the guarantee of the united states, it would be beneficial to all parties, and give us a great commercial and political standing, not only with the present people of domingo but with the west indies generally. and when we have gained their confidence by acts of justice and friendship, they will listen to our advice in matters of civilization and government, and prevent the danger of their becoming pirates, which i think they will be, if driven to desperation. "the united states is the only power that can undertake a measure of this kind. she is now the parent of the western world, and her knowledge of the local circumstances of it gives her an advantage in a matter of this kind superior to any european nation. she is enabled by situation, and grow[ing] importance to become a guarantee, and to see, as far as her advice and influence can operate, that the conditions on the part of domingo be fulfilled. it is also a measure that accords with the humanity of her principles, with her policy, and her commercial interest. "all that domingo wants of france, is, that france agree to let her alone, and withdraw her forces by sea and land; and in return for this domingo to give her a monopoly of her commerce for a term of years,--that is, to import from france all the utensils and manufactures she may have occasion to use or consume (except such as she can more conveniently procure from the manufactories of the united states), and to pay for them in produce. france will gain more by this than she can expect to do even by a conquest of the island, and the advantage to america will be that she will become the carrier of both, at least during the present war. "there was considerable dislike in paris against the expedition to domingo; and the events that have since taken place were then often predicted. the opinion that generally prevailed at that time was that the commerce of the island was better than the conquest of it,--that the conquest could not be accomplished without destroying the negroes, and in that case the island would be of no value. "i think it might be signified to the french government, yourself is the best judge of the means, that the united states are disposed to undertake an accommodation so as to put an end to this otherwise endless slaughter on both sides, and to procure to france the best advantages in point of commerce that the state of things will admit of. such an offer, whether accepted or not, cannot but be well received, and may lead to a good end. "there is now a fine snow, and if it continues i intend to set off for philadelphia in about eight days, and from thence to washington. i congratulate your constituents on the success of the election for president and vice-president. "yours in friendship, "thomas paine." the journey to washington was given up, and paine had to content himself with his pen. he took in several newspapers, and was as keenly alive as ever to the movements of the world. his chief anxiety was lest some concession might be made to the louisianians about the slave trade, that region being an emporium of the traffic which grew more enterprising and brutal as its term was at hand. much was said of the great need of the newly acquired region for more laborers, and it was known that jefferson was by no means so severe in his opposition to slavery as he was once supposed to be. the president repeatedly invited paine's views, and they were given fully and freely. the following extracts are from a letter dated new york, january , : "mr. levy lincoln and mr. wingate called on me at n. york, where i happened to be when they arrived on their journey from washington to the eastward: i find by mr. lincoln that the louisiana memorialists will have to return as they came and the more decisively congress put an end to this business the better. the cession of louisiana is a great acquisition; but great as it is it would be an incumbrance on the union were the prayer of the petitioners to be granted, nor would the lauds be worth settling if the settlers are to be under a french jurisdiction.... when the emigrations from the united states into louisiana become equal to the number of french inhabitants it may then be proper and right to erect such part where such equality exists into a constitutional state; but to do it now would be sending the american settlers into exile.... for my own part, i wish the name of louisiana to be lost, and this may in a great measure be done by giving names to the new states that will serve as descriptive of their situation or condition. france lost the names and almost the remembrance of provinces by dividing them into departments with appropriate names. "next to the acquisition of the territory and the government of it is that of settling it. the people of the eastern states are the best settlers of a new country, and of people from abroad the german peasantry are the best. the irish in general are generous and dissolute. the scotch turn their attention to traffic, and the english to manufactures. these people are more fitted to live in cities than to be cultivators of new lands. i know not if in virginia they are much acquainted with the importation of german redemptioners, that is, servants indented for a term of years. the best farmers in pennsylvania are those who came over in this manner or the descendants of them. the price before the war used to be twenty pounds pennsylvania currency for an indented servant for four years, that is, the ship owner, got twenty pounds per head passage money, so that upon two hundred persons he would receive after their arrival four thousand pounds paid by the persons who purchased the time of their indentures which was generally four years. these would be the best people, of foreigners, to bring into louisiana--because they would grow to be citizens. whereas bringing poor negroes to work the lands in a state of slavery and wretchedness, is, besides the immorality of it, the certain way of preventing population and consequently of preventing revenue. i question if the revenue arising from ten negroes in the consumption of imported articles is equal to that of one white citizen. in the articles of dress and of the table it is almost impossible to make a comparison. "these matters though they do not belong to the class of principles are proper subjects for the consideration of government; and it is always fortunate when the interests of government and that of humanity act unitedly. but i much doubt if the germans would come to be under a french jurisdiction. congress must frame the laws under which they are to serve out their time; after which congress might give them a few acres of land to begin with for themselves and they would soon be able to buy more. i am inclined to believe that by adopting this method the country will be more peopled in about twenty years from the present time than it has been in all the times of the french and spaniards. spain, i believe, held it chiefly as a barrier to her dominions in mexico, and the less it was improved the better it agreed with that policy; and as to france she never shewed any great disposition or gave any great encouragement to colonizing. it is chiefly small countries, that are straitened for room at home, like holland and england, that go in quest of foreign settlements.... "i have again seen and talked with the gentleman from hamburg. he tells me that some vessels under pretence of shipping persons to america carried them to england to serve as soldiers and sailors. he tells me he has the edict or proclamation of the senate of hamburg forbidding persons shipping themselves without the consent of the senate, and that he will give me a copy of it, which if he does soon enough i will send with this letter. he says that the american consul has been spoken to respecting this kidnapping business under american pretences, but that he says he has no authority to interfere. the german members of congress, or the philadelphia merchants or ship-owners who have been in the practice of importing german redemptioners, can give you better information respecting the business of importation than i can. but the redemptioners thus imported must be at the charge of the captain or ship owner till their time is sold. some of the quaker merchants of philadelphia went a great deal into the importation of german servants or redemptioners. it agreed with the morality of their principles that of bettering people's condition, and to put an end to the practice of importing slaves. i think it not an unreasonable estimation to suppose that the population of louisiana may be increased ten thousand souls every year. what retards the settlement of it is the want of labourers, and until labourers can be had the sale of the lands will be slow. were i twenty years younger, and my name and reputation as well known in european countries as it is now, i would contract for a quantity of land in louisiana and go to europe and bring over settlers.... "it is probable that towards the close of the session i may make an excursion to washington. the piece on gouverneur morris's oration on hamilton and that on the louisiana memorial are the last i have published; and as every thing of public affairs is now on a good ground i shall do as i did after the war, remain a quiet spectator and attend now to my own affairs. "i intend making a collection of all the pieces i have published, beginning with common sense, and of what i have by me in manuscript, and publish them by subscription. i have deferred doing this till the presidential election should be over, but i believe there was not much occasion for that caution. there is more hypocrisy than bigotry in america. when i was in connecticut the summer before last, i fell in company with some baptists among whom were three ministers. the conversation turned on the election for president, and one of them who appeared to be a leading man said 'they cry out against mr. jefferson because, they say he is a deist. well, a deist may be a good man, and if he think it right, it is right to him. for my own part, said he, 'i had rather vote for a deist than for a blue-skin presbyterian.' 'you judge right,' said i, 'for a man that is not of any of the sectaries will hold the balance even between all; but give power to a bigot of any sectary and he will use it to the oppression of the rest, as the blue-skins do in connection,' they all agree in this sentiment, and i have always found it assented to in any company i have had occasion to use it. "i judge the collection i speak of will make five volumes octavo of four hundred pages each at two dollars a volume to be paid on delivery; and as they will be delivered separately, as fast as they can be printed and bound the subscribers may stop when they please. the three first volumes will be political and each piece will be accompanied with an account of the state of affairs at the time it was written, whether in america, france, or england, which will also shew the occasion of writing it. the first expression in the first no. of the crisis published the th december ' is '_these are the times that try men's souls,_' it is therefore necessary as explanatory to the expression in all future times to shew what those times were. the two last volumes will be theological and those who do not chuse to take them may let them alone. they will have the right to do so, by the conditions of the subscription. i shall also make a miscellaneous volume of correspondence, essays, and some pieces of poetry, which i believe will have some claim to originality.... "i find by the captain [from new orleans] above mentioned that several liverpool ships have been at new orleans. it is chiefly the people of liverpool that employ themselves in the slave trade and they bring cargoes of those unfortunate negroes to take back in return the hard money and the produce of the country. had i the command of the elements i would blast liverpool with fire and brimstone. it is the sodom and gomorrah of brutality.... "i recollect when in france that you spoke of a plan of making the negroes tenants on a plantation, that is, allotting each negroe family a quantity of land for which they were to pay to the owner a certain quantity of produce. i think that numbers of our free negroes might be provided for in this manner in louisiana. the best way that occurs to me is for congress to give them their passage to new orleans, then for them to hire themselves out to the planters for one or two years; they would by this means learn plantation business, after which to place them on a tract of land as before mentioned. a great many good things may now be done; and i please myself with the idea of suggesting my thoughts to you. "old captain landais who lives at brooklyn on long island opposite new york calls sometimes to see me. i knew him in paris. he is a very respectable old man. i wish something had been done for him in congress on his petition; for i think something is due to him, nor do i see how the statute of limitation can consistently apply to him. the law in john adams's administration, which cut off all commerce and communication with france, cut him off from the chance of coming to america to put in his claim. i suppose that the claims of some of our merchants on england, france and spain is more than or years standing yet no law of limitation, that i know of take place between nations or between individuals of different nations. i consider a statute of limitation to be a domestic law, and can only have a domestic operation. dr. miller, one of the new york senators in congress, knows landais and can give you an account of him. "concerning my former letter, on domingo, i intended had i come to washington to have talked with pichon about it--if you had approved that method, for it can only be brought forward in an indirect way. the two emperors are at too great a distance in objects and in colour to have any intercourse but by fire and sword, yet something i think might be done. it is time i should close this long epistle. yours in friendship." paine made but a brief stay in new york (where he boarded with william carver). his next letter (april d) is from new rochelle, written to john fellows, an auctioneer in new york city, one of his most faithful friends. "citizen: i send this by the n. rochelle boat and have desired the boatman to call on you with it. he is to bring up bebia and thomas and i will be obliged to you to see them safe on board. the boat will leave n. y. on friday. "i have left my pen knife at carver's. it is, i believe, in the writing desk. it is a small french pen knife that slides into the handle. i wish carver would look behind the chest in the bed room. i miss some papers that i suppose are fallen down there. the boys will bring up with them one pair of the blankets mrs. bonneville took down and also my best blanket which is at carver's.--i send enclosed three dollars for a ream of writing paper and one dollar for some letter paper, and porterage to the boat. i wish you to give the boys some good advice when you go with them, and tell them that the better they behave the better it will be for them. i am now their only dependance, and they ought to know it. yours in friendship." "all my nos. of the prospect, while i was at carver's, are left there. the boys can bring them. i have received no no. since i came to new rochelle."' the thomas mentioned in this letter was paine's godson, and "bebia" was benjamin,--the late brigadier-general bonneville, u. s. a. the third son, louis, had been sent to his father in france. the _prospect_ was elihu palmer's rationalistic paper. early in this year a series of charges affecting jefferson's public and private character were published by one hulbert, on the authority of thomas turner of virginia. beginning with an old charge of cowardice, while governor (of which jefferson had been acquitted by the legislature of virginia), the accusation proceeded to instances of immorality, persons and places being named. the following letter from new rochelle, july th, to john fellows enclosed paine's reply, which appeared in the _american citizen_, july d and th: * this letter is in the possession of mr. grenville kane, tuxedo, n. y. "citizen--i inclose you two pieces for cheetham's paper, which i wish you to give to him yourself. he may publish one no. in one daily paper, and the other number in the next daily paper, and then both in his country paper. there has been a great deal of anonimous (sic) abuse thrown out in the federal papers against mr. jefferson, but until some names could be got hold of it was fighting the air to take any notice of them. we have now got hold of two names, your townsman hulbert, the hypocritical infidel of sheffield, and thomas turner of virginia, his correspondent. i have already given hulbert a basting with my name to it, because he made use of my name in his speech in the mass. legislature. turner has not given me the same cause in the letter he wrote (and evidently) to hulbert, and which hulbert, (for it could be no other person) has published in the repertory to vindicate himself. turner has detailed his charges against mr. jefferson, and i have taken them up one by one, which is the first time the opportunity has offered for doing it; for before this it was promiscuous abuse. i have not signed it either with my name or signature (common sense) because i found myself obliged, in order to made such scoundrels feel a little smart, to go somewhat out of my usual manner of writing, but there are some sentiments and some expressions that will be supposed to be in my stile, and i have no objection to that supposition, but i do not wish mr. jefferson to be _obliged_ to know it is from me. "since receiving your letter, which contained no direct information of any thing i wrote to you about, i have written myself to mr. barrett accompanied with a piece for the editor of the baltimore evening post, who is an acquaintance of his, but i have received no answer from mr. b., neither has the piece been published in the evening post. i will be obliged to you to call on him & to inform me about it. you did not tell me if you called upon foster; but at any rate do not delay the enclosed.--i do not trouble you with any messages or compliments, for you never deliver any. your's in friendship."' * i am indebted for this letter to mr. john t. robertson. editor of the national reformer, london. by a minute comparison of the two alleged specifications of immorality, paine proved that one was intrinsically absurd, and the other without trustworthy testimony. as for the charge of cowardice, paine contended that it was the duty of a civil magistrate to move out of danger, as congress had done in the revolution. the article was signed "a spark from the altar of ' ," but the writer was easily recognized. the service thus done jefferson was greater than can now be easily realized. another paper by paine was on "constitutions, governments and charters." it was an argument to prove the unconstitutionality in new york of the power assumed by the legislature to grant charters. this defeated the object of annual elections, by placing the act of one legislature beyond the reach of its successor. he proposes that all matters of "extraordinary legislation," such as those involving grants of land and incorporations of companies, "shall be passed only by a legislature succeeding the one in which it was proposed." had such an article been originally in the constitution [of new york] the bribery and corruption employed to seduce and manage the members of the late legislature, in the affair of the merchants' bank, could not have taken place. it would not have been worth while to bribe men to do what they had no power of doing. madame bonneville hated country life, and insisted on going to new york. paine was not sorry to have her leave, as she could not yet talk english, and did not appreciate paine's idea of plain living and high thinking. she apparently had a notion that paine had a mint of money, and, like so many others, might have attributed to parsimony efforts the unpaid author was making to save enough to give her children, practically fatherless, some start in life. the philosophic solitude in which he was left at new rochelle is described in a letter (july st) to john fellows, in new york. "it is certainly best that mrs. bonneville go into some family as a teacher, for she has not the least talent of managing affairs for herself. she may send bebia up to me. i will take care of him for his own sake and his father's, but that is all i have to say.... i am master of an empty house, or nearly so. i have six chairs and a table, a straw-bed, a featherbed, and a bag of straw for thomas, a tea kettle, an iron pot, an iron baking pan, a frying pan, a gridiron, cups, saucers, plates and dishes, knives and forks, two candlesticks and a pair of snuffers. i have a pair of fine oxen and an ox-cart, a good horse, a chair, and a one-horse cart; a cow, and a sow and pigs. when you come you must take such fare as you meet with, for i live upon tea, milk, fruit-pies, plain dumplins, and a piece of meat when i get it; but i live with that retirement and quiet that suit me. mrs. bonneville was an encumbrance upon me all the while she was here, for she would not do anything, not even make an apple dumplin for her own children. if you cannot make yourself up a straw bed, i can let you have blankets, and you will have no occasion to go over to the tavern to sleep. "as i do not see any federal papers, except by accident, i know not if they have attempted any remarks or criticisms on my eighth letter, [or] the piece on constitutional governments and charters, the two numbers on turner's letter, and also the piece on hulbert. as to anonymous paragraphs, it is not worth noticing them. i consider the generality of such editors only as a part of their press, and let them pass.--i want to come to morrisania, and it is probable i may come on to n. y., but i wish you to answer this letter first.--yours in friendship." * i am indebted for an exact copy of the letter from which this is extracted to-dr. garnett of the british museum, though it is not in that institution. it must not be supposed from what paine says of madame bonneville that there was anything acrimonious in their relations. she was thirty-one years younger than paine, fond of the world, handsome. the old gentleman, all day occupied with writing, could give her little companionship, even if he could have conversed in french, but he indulged her in every way, gave her more money than he could afford, devoted his ever decreasing means to her family. she had boundless reverence for him, but, as we have seen, had no taste for country life. probably, too, after dederick's attempt on paine's life she became nervous in the lonely house. so she had gone to new york, where she presently found good occupation as a teacher of french in several families. her sons, however, were fond of new rochelle, and of paine, who had a knack of amusing children, and never failed to win their affection.* * in the tarrytown argus, october , , appeared an interesting notice of the rev. alexander davis (methodist), by c. k. b[uchanan] in which it is stated that davis, a native of new rochelle, remembered the affection of paine, who "would bring him round-hearts and hold him on his knee." many such recollections of his little neighbors have been reported. the spring of at new rochelle was a pleasant one for paine. he wrote his last political pamphlet, which was printed by duane, philadelphia, with the title: "thomas paine to the citizens of pennsylvania, on the proposal for calling a convention." it opens with a reference to his former life and work in philadelphia. "removed as i now am from the place, and detached from everything of personal party, i address this token to you on the ground of principle, and in remembrance of former times and friendships." he gives an historical account of the negative or veto-power, finding it the english parliament's badge of disgrace under william of normandy, a defence of personal prerogative that ought to find no place in a republic. he advises that in the new constitution the principle of arbitration, outside of courts, should be established. the governor should possess no power of patronage; he should make one in a council of appointments. the senate is an imitation of the house of lords. the representatives should be divided by lot into two equal parts, sitting in different chambers. one half, by not being entangled in the debate of the other on the issue submitted, nor committed by voting, would become silently possessed of the arguments, and be in a calm position to review the whole. the votes of the two houses should be added together, and the majority decide. judges should be removable by some constitutional mode, without the formality of impeachment at "stated periods." (in paine wrote to senator mitchell of new york suggesting an amendment to the constitution of the united states by which judges of the supreme court might be removed by the president for reasonable cause, though insufficient for impeachment, on the address of a majority of both houses of congress.) in this pamphlet was included the paper already mentioned (on charters, etc.), addressed to the people of new york. the two essays prove that there was no abatement in paine's intellect, and that despite occasional "flings" at the "feds,"--retorts on their perpetual naggings,--he was still occupied with the principles of political philosophy. at this time paine had put the two young bon-nevilles at a school in new rochelle, where they also boarded. he had too much solitude in the house, and too little nourishment for so much work. so the house was let and he was taken in as a boarder by mrs. bayeaux, in the old bayeaux house, which is still standing,*--but paine's pecuniary situation now gave him anxiety. he was earning nothing, his means were found to be far less than he supposed, the needs of the bonnevilles increasing. considering the important defensive articles he had written for the president, and their long friendship, he ventured (september th) to allude to his situation and to remind him that his state, virginia, had once proposed to give him a tract of land, but had not done so. he suggests that congress should remember his services. * mrs. bayeaux is mentioned in paine's letter about dederick's attempt on his life. "but i wish you to be assured that whatever event this proposal may take it will make no alteration in my principles or my conduct i have been a volunteer to the world for thirty years without taking profits from anything i have published in america or europe. i have relinquished all profits that those publications might come cheap among the people for whom they were intended--yours in friendship." this was followed by another note (november th) asking if it had been received. what answer came from the president does not appear. about this time paine published an essay on "the cause of the yellow fever, and the means of preventing it in places not yet infected with it addressed to the board of health in america." the treatise, which he dates june th, is noticed by dr. francis as timely. paine points out that the epidemic which almost annually afflicted new york, had been unknown to the indians; that it began around the wharves, and did not reach the higher parts of the city. he does not believe the disease certainly imported from the west indies, since it is not carried from new york to other places. he thinks that similar filthy conditions of the wharves and the water about them generate the miasma alike in the west indies and in new york. it would probably be escaped if the wharves were built on stone or iron arches, permitting the tides to cleanse the shore and carry away the accumulations of vegetable and animal matter decaying around every ship and dock. he particularly proposes the use of arches for wharves about to be constructed at corlder's hook and on the north river. dr. francis justly remarks, in his "old new york," that paine's writings were usually suggested by some occasion. besides this instance of the essay on the yellow fever, he mentions one on the origin of freemasonry, there being an agitation in new york concerning that fraternity. but this essay---in which paine, with ingenuity and learning, traces freemasonry to the ancient solar mythology also identified with christian mythology--was not published during his life. it was published by madame bonneville with the passages affecting christianity omitted. the original manuscript was obtained, however, and published with an extended preface, criticizing paine's theory, the preface being in turn criticized by paine's editor. the preface was probably written by colonel fellows, author of a large work on freemasonry. chapter xviii. a new york prometheus when paine left bordentown, on march st , driving past placards of the devil flying away with him, and hooted by a pious mob at trenton, it was with hope of a happy reunion with old friends in more enlightened new york. col. few, formerly senator from georgia, his friend of many years, married paine's correspondent, kitty nicholson, to whom was written the beautiful letter from london (l, p. ). col. few had become a leading man in new york, and his home, and that of the nicholsons, were of highest social distinction. paine's arrival at lovett's hotel was well known, but not one of those former friends came near him. "they were actively as well as passively religious," says henry adams, "and their relations with paine after his return to america in were those of compassion only, for his intemperate and offensive habits, and intimacy was impossible."* but mr. adams will vainly search his materials for any intimation at that time of the intemperate or offensive habits. * "life of albert gallatin." gallatin continued to risk paine. the "compassion" is due to those devotees of an idol requiring sacrifice of friendship, loyalty, and intelligence. what a mistake they made! the old author was as a grand organ from which a cunning hand might bring music to be remembered through the generations. in that brain were stored memories of the great americans, frenchmen, englishmen who acted in the revolutionary dramas, and of whom he loved to talk. what would a diary of interviews with paine, written by his friend kitty few, be now worth? to intolerance, the least pardonable form of ignorance, must be credited the failure of those former friends, who supposed themselves educated, to make more of thomas paine than a scarred monument of an age of unreason. but the ostracism of paine by the society which, as henry adams states, had once courted him "as the greatest literary genius of his day," was not due merely to his religious views, which were those of various statesmen who had incurred no such odium. there was at work a lingering dislike and distrust of the common people. deism had been rather aristocratic. from the scholastic study, where heresies once written only in latin were daintily wrapped up in metaphysics, from drawing-rooms where cynical smiles went round at methodism, and other forms of "christianity in earnest," paine carried heresy to the people. and he brought it as a religion,--as fire from the fervid heaven that orthodoxy had monopolized. the popularity of his writing, the revivalistic earnestness of his protest against dogmas common to all sects, were revolutionary; and while the vulgar bigots were binding him on their rock of ages, and tearing his vitals, most of the educated, the social leaders, were too prudent to manifest any sympathy they may have felt.** * when paine first reached new york, , he was (march th) entertained at supper by john crauford. for being present eliakira ford, a baptist elder, was furiously denounced, as were others of the company. ** an exception was the leading presbyterian, john mason, who lived to denounce channing as "the devil's disciple." grant thorbura was psalm-singer in this scotch preacher's church. curiosity to see the lion led thorburn to visit paine, for which he was "suspended." thorburn afterwards made amends by fathering cheetham's slanders of paine after cheetham had become too infamous to quote. it were unjust to suppose that paine met with nothing but abuse and maltreatment from ministers of serious orthodoxy in new york. they had warmly opposed his views, even denounced them, but the controversy seems to have died away until he took part in the deistic propaganda of elihu palmer.' the following to col. fellows (july st) shows paine much interested in the "cause": "i am glad that palmer and foster have got together. it will greatly help the cause on. i enclose a letter i received a few days since from groton, in connecticut the letter is well written, and with a good deal of sincere enthusiasm. the publication of it would do good, but there is an impropriety in publishing a man's name to a private letter. you may show the letter to palmer and foster.... remember me to my much respected friend carver and tell him i am sure we shall succeed if we hold on. we have already silenced the clamor of the priests. they act now as if they would say, let us alone and we will let you alone. you do not tell me if the prospect goes on. as carver will want pay he may have it from me, and pay when it suits him; but i expect he will take a ride up some saturday, and then he can chuse for himself." the result of this was that paine passed the winter in new york, where he threw himself warmly into the theistic movement, and no doubt occasionally spoke from elihu palmer's platform. the rationalists who gathered around elihu palmer in new york were called the "columbian illuminati." the pompous epithet looks like an effort to connect them with the columbian order (tammany) which was supposed to represent jacobinism and french ideas generally. their numbers were considerable, but they did not belong to fashionable society. their lecturer, elihu palmer, was a scholarly gentleman of the highest character. a native of canterbury, connecticut, (born ) he had graduated at dartmouth. he was married by the rev. mr. watt to a widow, mary powell, in new york ( ), at the time when he was lecturing in the temple of reason (snow's rooms, broadway). this suggests that he had not broken with the clergy altogether. somewhat later he lectured at the union hotel, william street he had studied divinity, and turned against the creeds what was taught him for their support. "i have more than once [says dr. francis] listened to palmer; none could be weary within the sound of his voice; his diction was classical; and much of his natural theology attractive by variety of illustration. but admiration of him sank into despondency at his assumption, and his sarcastic assaults on things most holy. his boldest phillippic was his discourse on the title-page of the bible, in which, with the double shield of jacobinism and infidelity, he warned rising america against confidence in a book authorised by the monarchy of england. palmer delivered his sermons in the union hotel in william street." dr. francis does not appear to have known paine personally, but had seen him. palmer's chief friends in new york were, he says, john fellows; rose, an unfortunate lawyer; taylor, a philanthropist; and charles christian. of rev. john foster, another rationalist lecturer, dr. francis says he had a noble presence and great eloquence. foster's exordium was an invocation to the goddess of liberty. he and palmer called each other brother. no doubt paine completed the triad. col. john fellows, always the devoted friend of paine, was an auctioneer, but in later life was a constable in the city courts. he has left three volumes which show considerable literary ability, and industrious research; but these were unfortunately bestowed on such extinct subjects as freemasonry, the secret of junius, and controversies concerning general putnam. it is much to be regretted that colonel fellows should not have left a volume concerning paine, with whom he was in especial intimacy, during his last years. other friends of paine were thomas addis emmet, walter morton, a lawyer, and judge hertell, a man of wealth, and a distinguished member of the state assembly. fulton also was much in new york, and often called on paine. paine was induced to board at the house of william carver ( cedar street), which proved a grievous mistake. carver had introduced himself to paine, saying that he remembered him when he was an exciseman at lewes, england, he (carver) being a young farrier there. he made loud professions of deism, and of devotion to paine. the farrier of lewes had become a veterinary practitioner and shopkeeper in new york. paine supposed that he would be cared for in the house of this active rationalist, but the man and his family were illiterate and vulgar. his sojourn at carver's probably shortened paine's life. carver, to anticipate the narrative a little, turned out to be a bad-hearted man and a traitor. paine had accumulated a mass of fragmentary writings on religious subjects, and had begun publishing them in a journal started in by elihu palmer,--_the prospect; or view of the moral world_. this succeeded the paper called _the temple of reason_. one of paine's objects was to help the new journal, which attracted a good deal of attention. his first communication (february , ), was on a sermon by robert hall, on "modern infidelity," sent him by a gentleman in new york. the following are some of its trenchant paragraphs: "is it a fact that jesus christ died for the sins of the world, and how is it proved? if a god he could not die, and as a man he could not redeem: how then is this redemption proved to be fact? it is said that adam eat of the forbidden fruit, commonly called an apple, and thereby subjected himself and all his posterity forever to eternal damnation. this is worse than visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generations. but how was the death of jesus christ to affect or alter the case? did god thirst for blood? if so, would it not have been better to have crucified adam upon the forbidden tree, and made a new man?" "why do not the christians, to be consistent, make saints of judas and pontius pilate, for they were the persons who accomplished the act of salvation. the merit of a sacrifice, if there can be any merit in it, was never in the thing sacrificed, but in the persons offering up the sacrifice--and therefore judas and pilate ought to stand first in the calendar of saints." other contributions to the _prospect_ were: "of the word religion"; "cain and abel"; "the tower of babel"; "of the religion of deism compared with the christian religion"; "of the sabbath day in connecticut"; "of the old and new testaments"; "hints towards forming a society for inquiring into the truth or falsehood of ancient history, so far as history is connected with systems of religion ancient and modern"; "to the members of the society styling itself the missionary society"; "on deism, and the writings of thomas paine"; "of the books of the new testament" there were several communications without any heading. passages and sentences from these little essays have long been a familiar currency among freethinkers. "we admire the wisdom of the ancients, yet they had no bibles, nor books, called revelation. they cultivated the reason that god gave them, studied him in his works, and rose to eminence." "the cain and abel of genesis appear to be no other than the ancient egyptian story of typhon and osiris, the darkness and the light, which answered very well as allegory without being believed as fact." "those who most believe the bible are those who know least about it." "another observation upon the story of babel is the inconsistence of it with respect to the opinion that the bible is the word of god given for the information of mankind; for nothing could so effectually prevent such a word being known by mankind as confounding their language." "god has not given us reason for the purpose of confounding us." "jesus never speaks of adam, of the garden of eden, nor of what is called the fall of man." "is not the bible warfare the same kind of warfare as the indians themselves carry on?" [on the presentation of a bible to some osage chiefs in new york.] "the remark of the emperor julian is worth observing. 'if, said he, 'there ever had been or could be a tree of knowledge, instead of god forbidding man to eat thereof, it would be that of which he would order him to eat the most.'" "do christians not see that their own religion is founded on a human sacrifice? many thousands of human sacrifices have since been offered on the altar of the christian religion." "for several centuries past the dispute has been about doctrines. it is now about fact." "the bible has been received by protestants on the authority of the church of rome." "the same degree of hearsay evidence, and that at third and fourth hand, would not, in a court of justice, give a man title to a cottage, and yet the priests of this profession presumptuously promise their deluded followers the kingdom of heaven." "nobody fears for the safety of a mountain, but a hillock of sand may be washed away. blow then, o ye priests, 'the trumpet in zion,' for the hillock is in danger." the force of paine's negations was not broken by any weakness for speculations of his own. he constructed no system to invite the missiles of antagonists. it is, indeed, impossible to deny without affirming; denial that two and two make five affirms that they make four. the basis of paine's denials being the divine wisdom and benevolence, there was in his use of such expressions an implication of limitation in the divine nature. wisdom implies the necessity of dealing with difficulties, and benevolence the effort to make all sentient creatures happy. neither quality is predicable of an omniscient and omnipotent being, for whom there could be no difficulties or evils to overcome. paine did not. confuse the world with his doubts or with his mere opinions. he stuck to his certainties, that the scriptural deity was not the true one, nor the dogmas called christian reasonable. but he felt some of the moral difficulties surrounding theism, and these were indicated in his reply to the bishop of llandaff. "the book of job belongs either to the ancient persians, the chaldeans, or the egyptians; because the structure of it is consistent with the dogma they held, that of a good and evil spirit, called in job god and satan, existing as distinct and separate beings, and it is not consistent with any dogma of the jews.... the god of the jews was the god of everything. all good and evil came from him. according to exodus it was god, and not the devil, that hardened pharaoh's heart. according to the book of samuel it was an evil spirit from god that troubled saul. and ezekiel makes god say, in speaking of the jews, 'i gave them statutes that were not good, and judgments by which they should not live.'... as to the precepts, principles, and maxims in the book of job, they show that the people abusively called the heathen, in the books of the jews, had the most sublime ideas of the creator, and the most exalted devotional morality. it was the jews who dishonored god. it was the gentiles who glorified him." several passages in paine's works show that he did not believe in a personal devil; just what he did believe was no doubt written in a part of his reply to the bishop, which, unfortunately, he did not live to carry through the press. in the part that we have he expresses the opinion that the serpent of genesis is an allegory of winter, necessitating the "coats of skins" to keep adam and eve warm, and adds: "of these things i shall speak fully when i come in another part to speak of the ancient religion of the persians, and compare it with the modern religion of the new testament" but this part was never published. the part published was transcribed by paine and given, not long before his death, to the widow of elihu palmer, who published it in the _theophilanthropist_ in . paine had kept the other part, no doubt for revision, and it passed with his effects into the hands of madame bonneville, who eventually became a devotee. she either suppressed it or sold it to some one who destroyed it. we can therefore only infer from the above extract the author's belief on this momentous point. it seems clear that he did not attribute any evil to the divine being. in the last article paine published he rebukes the "predestinarians" for dwelling mainly on god's "physical attribute" of power. "the deists, in addition to this, believe in his moral attributes, those of justice and goodness." among paine's papers was found one entitled "my private thoughts of a future state," from which his editors have dropped important sentences. "i have said in the first part of the age of reason that 'i hope for happiness after this life,' this hope is comfortable to me, and i presume not to go beyond the comfortable idea of hope, with respect to a future state. i consider myself in the hands of my creator, and that he will dispose of me after this life, consistently with his justice and goodness. i leave all these matters to him as my creator and friend, and i hold it to be presumption in man to make an article of faith as to what the creator will do with us hereafter. i do not believe, because a man and a woman make a child, that it imposes on the creator the unavoidable obligation of keeping the being so made in eternal existence hereafter. it is in his power to do so, or not to do so, and it is not in our power to decide which he will do." [after quoting from matthew th the figure of the sheep and goats he continues:] "the world cannot be thus divided. the moral world, like the physical world, is composed of numerous degrees of character, running imperceptibly one into the other, in such a manner that no fixed point can be found in either. that point is nowhere, or is everywhere. the whole world might be divided into two parts numerically, but not as to moral character; and therefore the metaphor of dividing them, as sheep and goats can be divided, whose difference is marked by their external figure, is absurd. all sheep are still sheep; all goats are still goats; it is their physical nature to be so. but one part of the world are not all good alike, nor the other part all wicked alike. there are some exceedingly good, others exceedingly wicked. there is another description of men who cannot be ranked with either the one or the other--they belong neither to the sheep nor the goats. and there is still another description of them who are so very insignificant, both in character and conduct, as not to be worth the trouble of damning or saving, or of raising from the dead. my own opinion is, that those whose lives have been spent in doing good, and endeavouring to make their fellow mortals happy, for this is the only way in which we can serve god, will be happy hereafter; and that the very wicked will meet with some punishment. but those who are neither good nor bad, or are too insignificant for notice, will be dropt entirely. this is my opinion. it is consistent with my idea of god's justice, and with the reason that god has given me, and i gratefully know that he has given me a large share of that divine gift." the closing tribute to his own reason, written in privacy, was, perhaps pardonably, suppressed by the modern editor, and also the reference to the insignificant who "will be dropt entirely." this sentiment is not indeed democratic, but it is significant. it seems plain that paine's conception of the universe was dualistic. though he discards the notion of a devil, i do not find that he ever ridicules it. no doubt he would, were he now living, incline to a division of nature into organic and inorganic, and find his deity, as zoroaster did, in the living as distinguished from, and sometimes in antagonism with, the "not-living". in this belief he would now find himself in harmony with some of the ablest modern philosophers.* * john stuart mill, for instance. see also the rev. dr. abbott's "kernel and husk" (london), and the great work of samuel laing, "a modern zoroastrian." { } the opening year found paine in new rochelle. by insufficient nourishment in carver's house his health was impaired. his means were getting low, insomuch that to support the bonnevilles he had to sell the bordentown house and property.* * it was bought for $ by his friend john oliver, whose daughter, still residing in the house, told me that her father to the end of his life "thought everything of paine." john oliver, in his old age, visited colonel ingersoll in order to testify against the aspersions on paine's character and habits. elihu palmer had gone off to philadelphia for a time; he died there of yellow fever in . the few intelligent people whom paine knew were much occupied, and he was almost without congenial society. his hint to jefferson of his impending poverty, and his reminder that virginia had not yet given him the honorarium he and madison approved, had brought no result. with all this, and the loss of early friendships, and the theological hornet-nest he had found in new york, paine began to feel that his return to america was a mistake. the air-castle that had allured him to his beloved land had faded. his little room with the bonnevilles in paris, with its chaos of papers, was preferable; for there at least he could enjoy the society of educated persons, free from bigotry. he dwelt a stranger in his land of promise. so he resolved to try and free himself from his depressing environment. he would escape to europe again. jefferson had offered him a ship to return in, perhaps he would now help him to get back. so he writes (jan. th) a letter to the president, pointing out the probabilities of a crisis in europe which must result in either a descent on england by bonaparte, or in a treaty. in the case that the people of england should be thus liberated from tyranny, he (paine) desired to share with his friends there the task of framing a republic. should there be, on the other hand, a treaty of peace, it would be of paramount interest to american shipping that such treaty should include that maritime compact, or safety of the seas for neutral ships, of which paine had written so much, and which jefferson himself had caused to be printed in a pamphlet. both of these were, therefore, paine's subjects. "i think," he says, "you will find it proper, perhaps necessary, to send a person to france in the event of either a treaty or a descent, and i make you an offer of my services on that occasion to join mr. monroe.... as i think that the letters of a friend to a friend have some claim to an answer, it will be agreeable to me to receive an answer to this, but without any wish that you should commit yourself, neither can you be a judge of what is proper or necessary to be done till about the month of april or may." this little dream must also vanish. paine must face the fact that his career is ended. it is probable that elihu palmer's visit to philadelphia was connected with some theistic movement in that city. how it was met, and what annoyances paine had to suffer, are partly intimated in the following letter, printed in the philadelphia _commercial advertiser_, february , . "to john inskeep, mayor of the city of philadelphia. "i saw in the aurora of january the th a piece addressed to you and signed isaac hall. it contains a statement of your malevolent conduct in refusing to let him have vine-st. wharf after he had bid fifty dollars more rent for it than another person had offered, and had been unanimously approved of by the commissioners appointed by law for that purpose. among the reasons given by you for this refusal, one was, that '_mr hall was one of paine's disciples_.' if those whom you may chuse to call my disciples follow my example in doing good to mankind, they will pass the confines of this world with a happy mind, while the hope of the hypocrite shall perish and delusion sink into despair. "i do not know who mr. inskeep is, for i do not remember the name of inskeep at philadelphia in '_the time that tried men's souls._* he must be some mushroom of modern growth that has started up on the soil which the generous services of thomas paine contributed to bless with freedom; neither do i know what profession of religion he is of, nor do i care, for if he is a man malevolent and unjust, it signifies not to what class or sectary he may hypocritically belong. "as i set too much value on my time to waste it on a man of so little consequence as yourself, i will close this short address with a declaration that puts hypocrisy and malevolence to defiance. here it is: my motive and object in all my political works, beginning with common sense, the first work i ever published, have been to rescue man from tyranny and false systems and false principles of government, and enable him to be free, and establish government for himself; and i have borne my share of danger in europe and in america in every attempt i have made for this purpose. and my motive and object in all my publications on religious subjects, beginning with the first part of the age of reason, have been to bring man to a right reason that god has given him; to impress on him the great principles of divine morality, justice, mercy, and a benevolent disposition to all men and to all creatures; and to excite in him a spirit of trust, confidence and consolation in his creator, unshackled by the fable and fiction of books, by whatever invented name they may be called. i am happy in the continual contemplation of what i have done, and i thank god that he gave me talents for the purpose and fortitude to do it it will make the continual consolation of my departing hours, whenever they finally arrive. "thomas paine." "'_these are the times that try men's souls_.' crisis no. , written while on the retreat with the army from fort lee to the delaware and published in philadelphia in the dark days of december the th, six days before the taking of the hessians at trenton." but the year had a heavier blow yet to inflict on paine, and it naturally came, though in a roundabout way, from his old enemy gouverneur morris. while at new rochelle, paine offered his vote at the election, and it was refused, on the ground that he was not an american citizen! the supervisor declared that the former american minister, gouverneur morris, had refused to reclaim him from a french prison because he was not an american, and that washington had also refused to reclaim him. gouverneur morris had just lost his seat in congress, and was politically defunct, but his ghost thus rose on poor paine's pathway. the supervisor who disfranchised the author of "common sense" had been a "tory" in the revolution; the man he disfranchised was one to whom the president of the united states had written, five years before: "i am in hopes you will find us returned generally to sentiments worthy of former times. in these it will be your glory to have steadily labored, and with as much effect as any man living." there was not any question of paine's qualification as a voter on other grounds than the supervisor (elisha ward) raised. more must presently be said concerning this incident. paine announced his intention of suing the inspectors, but meanwhile he had to leave the polls in humiliation. it was the fate of this founder of republics to be a monument of their ingratitude. and now paine's health began to fail. an intimation of this appears in a letter to andrew a. dean, to whom his farm at new rochelle was let, dated from new york, august, . it is in reply to a letter from dean on a manuscript which paine had lent him.* * "i have read," says dean, "with good attention your manuscript on dreams, and examination of the prophecies in the bible. i am now searching the old prophecies, and comparing the same to those said to be quoted in the new testament. i confess the comparison is a matter worthy of our serious attention; i know not the result till i finish; then, if you be living, i shall communicate the same to you. i hope to be with you soon." paine was now living with jarvis, the artist. one evening he fell as if by apoplexy, and, as he lay, his first word was (to jarvis): "my corporeal functions have ceased; my intellect is clear; this is a proof of immortality." "respected friend: i received your friendly letter, for which i am obliged to you. it is three weeks ago to day (sunday, aug. ,) that i was struck with a fit of an apoplexy, that deprived me of all sense and motion. i had neither pulse nor breathing, and the people about me supposed me dead. i had felt exceedingly well that day, and had just taken a slice of bread and butter for supper, and was going to bed. the fit took me on the stairs, as suddenly as if i had been shot through the head; and i got so very much hurt by the fall, that i have not been able to get in and out of bed since that day, otherwise than being lifted out in a blanket, by two persons; yet all this while my mental faculties have remained as perfect as i ever enjoyed them. i consider the scene i have passed through as an experiment on dying, and i find death has no terrors for me. as to the people called christians, they have no evidence that their religion is true. there is no more proof that the bible is the word of god, than that the koran of mahomet is the word of god. it is education makes all the difference. man, before he begins to think for himself, is as much the child of habit in creeds as he is in ploughing and sowing. yet creeds, like opinions, prove nothing. where is the evidence that the person called jesus christ is the begotten son of god? the case admits not of evidence either to our senses or our mental faculties: neither has god given to man any talent by which such a thing is comprehensible. it cannot therefore be an object for faith to act upon, for faith is nothing more than an assent the mind gives to something it sees cause to believe is fact. but priests, preachers, and fanatics, put imagination in the place of faith, and it is the nature of the imagination to believe without evidence. if joseph the carpenter dreamed (as the book of matthew, chapter st, says he did,) that his betrothed wife, mary, was with child by the holy ghost, and that an angel told him so, i am not obliged to put faith in his dream; nor do i put any, for i put no faith in my own dreams, and i should be weak and foolish indeed to put faith in the dreams of others.--the christian religion is derogatory to the creator in all its articles. it puts the creator in an inferior point of view, and places the christian devil above him. it is he, according to the absurd story in genesis, that outwits the creator, in the garden of eden, and steals from him his favorite creature, man; and, at last, obliges him to beget a son, and put that son to death, to get man back again. and this the priests of the christian religion, call redemption. "christian authors exclaim against the practice of offering human sacrifices, which, they say, is done in some countries; and those authors make those exclamations without ever reflecting that their own doctrine of salvation is founded on a human sacrifice. they are saved, they say, by the blood of christ. the christian religion begins with a dream and ends with a murder. "as i am well enough to sit up some hours in the day, though not well enough to get up without help, i employ myself as i have always done, in endeavoring to bring man to the right use of the reason that god has given him, and to direct his mind immediately to his creator, and not to fanciful secondary beings called mediators, as if god was superannuated or ferocious. "as to the book called the bible, it is blasphemy to call it the word of god. it is a book of lies and contradictions, and a history of bad times and bad men. there are but a few good characters in the whole book. the fable of christ and his twelve apostles, which is a parody on the sun and the twelve signs of the zodiac, copied from the ancient religions of the eastern world, is the least hurtful part. every thing told of christ has reference to the sun. his reported resurrection is at sunrise, and that on the first day of the week; that is, on the day anciently dedicated to the sun, and from thence called sunday; in latin dies solis, the day of the sun; as the next day, monday, is moon day. but there is no room in a letter to explain these things. while man keeps to the belief of one god, his reason unites with his creed. he is not shocked with contradictions and horrid stories. his bible is the heavens and the earth. he beholds his creator in all his works, and every thing he beholds inspires him with reverence and gratitude. from the goodness of god to all, he learns his duty to his fellow-man, and stands self-reproved when he transgresses it. such a man is no persecutor. but when he multiplies his creed with imaginary things, of which he can have neither evidence nor conception, such as the tale of the garden of eden, the talking serpent, the fall of man, the dreams of joseph the carpenter, the pretended resurrection and ascension, of which there is even no historical relation, for no historian of those times mentions such a thing, he gets into the pathless region of confusion, and turns either frantic or hypocrite. he forces his mind, and pretends to believe what he does not believe. this is in general the case with the methodists. their religion is all creed and no morals. "i have now my friend given you a fac-simile of my mind on the subject of religion and creeds, and my wish is, that you may make this letter as publicly known as you find opportunities of doing. yours in friendship." { } the "essay on dream" was written early in and printed in may, . it was the last work of importance written by paine. in the same pamphlet was included a part of his reply to the bishop of llandaff, which was written in france: "an examination of the passages in the new testament, quoted from the old, and called prophecies of the coming of jesus christ" the examination is widely known and is among paine's characteristic works,--a continuation of the "age of reason." the "essay on dream" is a fine specimen of the author's literary art. dream is the imagination awake while the judgment is asleep. "every person is mad once in twenty-four hours; for were he to act in the day as he dreams in the night, he would be confined for a lunatic." nathaniel hawthorne thought spiritualism "a sort of dreaming awake." paine explained in the same way some of the stories on which popular religion is founded. the incarnation itself rests on what an angel told joseph in a dream, and others are referred to. "this story of dreams has thrown europe into a dream for more than a thousand years. all the efforts that nature, reason, and conscience have made to awaken man from it have been ascribed by priestcraft and superstition to the workings of the devil, and had it not been for the american revolution, which by establishing the universal right of conscience, first opened the way to free discussion, and for the french revolution which followed, this religion of dreams had continued to be preached, and that after it had ceased to be believed." but paine was to be reminded that the revolution had not made conscience free enough in america to challenge waking dreams without penalties. the following account of his disfranchisement at new rochelle, was written from broome st., new york, may , , to vice-president clinton. "respected friend,--elisha ward and three or four other tories who lived within the british lines in the revolutionary war, got in to be inspectors of the election last year at new rochelle. ward was supervisor. these men refused my vote at the election, saying to me: 'you are not an american; our minister at paris, gouverneur morris, would not reclaim you when you were emprisoned in the luxembourg prison at paris, and general washington refused to do it.' upon my telling him that the two cases he stated were falsehoods, and that if he did me injustice i would prosecute him, he got up, and calling for a constable, said to me, 'i will commit you to prison.' he chose, however, to sit down and go no farther with it. "i have written to mr. madison for an attested copy of mr. monro's letter to the then secretary of state randolph, in which mr. monro gives the government an account of his reclaiming me and my liberation in consequence of it; and also for an attested copy of mr. randolph's answer, in which he says: 'the president approves what you have done in the case of mr. paine.' the matter i believe is, that, as i had not been guillotined, washington thought best to say what he did. as to gouverneur morris, the case is that he did reclaim me; but his reclamation did me no good, and the probability is, he did not intend it should. joel barlow and other americans in paris had been in a body to reclaim me, but their application, being unofficial, was not regarded. i then applied to morris. i shall subpoena morris, and if i get attested copies from the secretary of state's office it will prove the lie on the inspectors. "as it is a new generation that has risen up since the declaration of independence, they know nothing of what the political state of the country was at the time the pamphlet 'common sense' appeared; and besides this there are but few of the old standers left, and none that i know of in this city. "it may be proper at the trial to bring the mind of the court and the jury back to the times i am speaking of, and if you see no objection in your way, i wish you would write a letter to some person, stating, from your own knowledge, what the condition of those times were, and the effect which the work 'common sense,' and the several members (numbers) of the 'crisis' had upon the country. it would, i think, be best that the letter should begin directly on the subject in this manner: being informed that thomas paine has been denied his rights of citizenship by certain persons acting as inspectors at an election at new rochelle, &c. "i have put the prosecution into the hands of mr. riker, district attorney, who can make use of the letter in his address to the court and jury. your handwriting can be sworn to by persons here, if necessary. had you been on the spot i should have subpoenaed you, unless it had been too inconvenient to you to have attended. yours in friendship." to this clinton replied from washington, th may, : "dear sir,--i had the pleasure to receive your letter of the th instant, yesterday; agreeably to your request i have this day written a letter to richard riker, esquire, which he will show you. i doubt much, however, whether the court will admit it to be read as evidence. "i am indebted to you for a former letter. i can make no other apology for not acknowledging it before than inability to give you such an answer as i could wish. i constantly keep the subject in mind, and should any favorable change take place in the sentiments of the legislature, i will apprize you of it. "i am, with great esteem, your sincere friend." in the letter to madison, paine tells the same story. at the end he says that morris' reclamation was not out of any good will to him. "i know not what he wrote to the french minister; whatever it was he concealed it from me." he also says morris could hardly keep himself out of prison.* * the letter is in mr. frederick mcguire's collection of madison papers. a letter was also written to joel barlow, at washington, dated broome street, new york, may th. he says in this: "i have prosecuted the board of inspectors for disfranchising me. you and other americans in paris went in a body to the convention to reclaim me, and i want a certificate from you, properly attested, of this fact. if you consult with gov. clinton he will in friendship inform you who to address it to. "having now done with business i come to meums and tuums. what are you about? you sometimes hear of me but i never hear of you. it seems as if i had got to be master of the feds and the priests. the former do not attack my political publications; they rather try to keep them out of sight by silence. and as to the priests, they act as if they would say, let us alone and we will let you alone. my examination of the passages called prophecies is printed, and will be published next week. i have prepared it with the essay on dream. i do not believe that the priests will attack it, for it is not a book of opinions but of facts. had the christian religion done any good in the world i would not have exposed it, however fabulous i might believe it to be. but the delusive idea of having a friend at court whom they call a redeemer, who pays all their scores, is an encouragement to wickedness. "what is fulton about? is he taming a whale to draw his submarine boat? i wish you would desire mr. smith to send me his country national intelligencer. it is printed twice a week without advertisement. i am somewhat at a loss for want of authentic intelligence. yours in friendship." it will be seen that paine was still in ignorance of the conspiracy which had thrown him in prison, nor did he suspect that washington had been deceived by gouverneur morris, and that his private letter to washington might have been given over to pickering.* * in chapter x. of this volume, as originally printed, there were certain passages erroneously suggesting that pickering might have even intercepted this important letter of september , . i had not then observed a reference to that letter by madison, in writing to monroe (april , ), which proves that paine's communication to washington had been read by pickering. monroe was anxious lest some attack on the president should be written by paine while under his roof,--an impropriety avoided by paine as we have seen,--and had written to madison on the subject. madison answers: "i have given the explanation you desired to f. a. m[uhlenberg], who has not received any letter as yet, and has promised to pay due regard to your request. it is proper you should know that thomas paine wrote some time ago a severe letter to the president which pickering mentioned to me in harsh terms when i delivered a note from thomas paine to the secretary of state, inclosed by t. p. in a letter to me. nothing passed, however, that betrayed the least association of your patronage or attention to thomas paine with the circumstance; nor am i apprehensive that any real suspicion can exist of your countenancing or even knowing the steps taken by t. p. under the influence of his personal feelings or political principles. at the same time the caution you observe is by no means to be disapproved. be so good as to let t. p. know that i have received his letter and handed his note to the secretary of state, which requested copies of such letters as might have been written hence in his behalf. the note did not require any answer either to me or through me, and i have heard nothing of it since i handed it to pickering." at this time the secretary of state's office contained the president's official recognition of paine's citizenship; but this application for the papers relating to his imprisonment by a foreign power received no reply, though it was evidently couched in respectful terms; as the letter was open for the eye of madison, who would not have conveyed it otherwise. it is incredible that washington could have sanctioned such an outrage on one he had recognized as an american citizen, unless under pressure of misrepresentations. possibly paine's quaker and republican direction of his letter to "george washington, president of the united states," was interpreted by his federalist ministers as an insult. it will be seen, by madame bonneville's and jarvis' statements elsewhere, that paine lost his case against elisha ward, on what ground it is difficult to imagine. the records of the supreme court, at albany, and the clerk's office at white plains, have been vainly searched for any trace of this trial. mr. john h. riker, son of paine's counsel, has examined the remaining papers of richard riker (many were accidentally destroyed) without finding anything related to the matter. it is so terrible to think that with jefferson, clinton, and madison at the head of the government, and the facts so clear, the federalist elisha ward could vindicate his insult to thomas paine, that it may be hoped the publication of these facts will bring others to light that may put a better face on the matter.* * gilbert vale relates an anecdote which suggests that a reaction may have occurred in elisha ward's family: "at the time of mr. paine's residence at his farm, mr. ward, now a coffee-roaster in gold street, new york, and an assistant alderman, was then a little boy and residing at new rochelle. he remembers the impressions his mother and some religious people made on him by speaking of tom paine, so that he concluded that tom paine must be a very bad and brutal man. some of his elder companions proposed going into mr. paine's orchard to obtain some fruit, and he, out of fear, kept at a distance behind, till he beheld, with surprise, mr. paine come out and assist the boys in getting apples, patting one on the head and caressing another, and directing them where to get the best. he then advanced and received his share of encouragement, and the impression this kindness made on him determined him at a very early period to examine his writings. his mother at first took the books from him, but at a later period restored them to him, observing that he was then of an age to judge for himself; perhaps she had herself been gradually undeceived, both as to his character and writings." madame bonneville may have misunderstood the procedure for which she had to pay costs, as paine's legatee. whether an ultimate decision was reached or not, the sufficiently shameful fact remains that thomas paine was practically disfranchised in the country to which he had rendered services pronounced pre-eminent by congress, by washington, and by every soldier and statesman of the revolution. paine had in new york the most formidable of enemies,--an enemy with a newspaper. this was james cheetham, of whom something has been said in the preface to this work (p. xvi.). in addition to what is there stated, it may be mentioned that paine had observed, soon after he came to new york, the shifty course of this man's paper, _the american citizen_. but it was the only republican paper in new york, supported governor clinton, for which it had reason, since it had the state printing,--and colonel fellows advised that cheetham should not be attacked. cheetham had been an attendant on elihu palmer's lectures, and after his participation in the dinner to paine, his federalist opponent, the _evening post_, alluded to his being at palmer's. thereupon cheetham declared that he had not heard palmer for two years. in the winter of he casually spoke of paine's "mischievous doctrines." in the following year, when paine wrote the defence of jefferson's personal character already alluded to, cheetham omitted a reference in it to alexander hamilton's pamphlet, by which he escaped accusation of official defalcation by confessing an amorous intrigue.* * "i see that cheetham has left out the part respecting hamilton and mrs. reynolds, but for my own part i wish it had been in. had the story never been publicly told i would not have been the first to tell it; but hamilton had told it himself, and therefore it was no secret; but my motive in introducing it was because it was applicable to the subject i was upon, and to show the revilers of mr. jefferson that while they are affecting a morality of horror at an unproved and unfounded story about mr. jefferson, they had better look at home and give vent to their horror, if they had any, at a real case of their own dagon (sic) and his delilah."--paine to colonel fellows, july , . cheetham having been wont to write of hamilton as "the gallant of mrs. reynolds," paine did not give much credit to the pretext of respect for the dead, on which the suppression was justified. he was prepared to admit that his allusion might be fairly suppressed, but perceived that the omission was made merely to give cheetham a chance for vaunting his superior delicacy, and casting a suspicion on paine. "cheetham," wrote paine, "might as well have put the part in, as put in the reasons for which he left it out. those reasons leave people to suspect that the part suppressed related to some new discovered immorality in hamilton worse than the old story." about the same time with paine, an irishman came to america, and, after travelling about the country a good deal, established a paper in new york called _the people's friend_. this paper began a furious onslaught on the french, professed to have advices that napoleon meant to retake new orleans, and urged an offensive alliance of the united states with england against france and spain. these articles appeared in the early autumn of , when, as we have seen, paine was especially beset by personal worries. they made him frantic. his denunciations, merited as they were, of this assailant of france reveal the unstrung condition of the old author's nerves. duane, of the philadelphia _aurora_, recognized in carpenter a man he had seen in calcutta, where he bore the name of cullen. it was then found that he had on his arrival in america borne the _alias_ of mac-cullen. paine declared that he was an "emissary" sent to this country by windham, and indeed most persons were at length satisfied that such was the case. paine insisted that loyalty to our french alliance demanded cullen's expulsion. his exposures of "the emissary cullen" (who disappeared) were printed in a new republican paper in new york, _the public advertiser_, edited by mr. frank. the combat drew public attention to the new paper, and cheetham was probably enraged by paines transfer of his pen to frank. in , paine had a large following in new york, his friends being none the less influential among the masses because not in the fashionable world moreover, the very popular mayor of new york, de witt clinton, was a hearty admirer of paine. so cheetham's paper suffered sadly, and he opened his guns on paine, declaring that in the revolution he (paine) "had stuck very correctly to his pen in a safe retreat," that his "rights of man" merely repeated locke, and so forth. he also began to denounce france and applaud england, which led to the belief that, having lost republican patronage, cheetham was aiming to get that of england. in a "reply to cheetham" (august st), paine met personalities in kind. "mr. cheetham, in his rage for attacking everybody and everything that is not his own (for he is an ugly-tempered man, and he carries the evidence of it in the vulgarity and forbiddingness of his countenance--god has set a mark upon cain), has attacked me, etc." in reply to further attacks, paine printed a piece headed "cheetham and his tory paper." he said that cheetham was discovering symptoms of being the successor of cullen, _alias_ carpenter. "like him he is seeking to involve the united states in a quarrel with france for the benefit of england." this article caused a duel between the rival editors, cheetham and frank, which seems to have been harmless. paine wrote a letter to the _evening post_, saying that he had entreated frank to answer cheetham's challenge by declaring that he (paine) had written the article and was the man to be called to account. in company paine mentioned an opinion expressed by the president in a letter just received. this got into the papers, and cheetham declared that the president could not have so written, and that paine was intoxicated when he said so. for this paine instituted a suit against cheetham for slander, but died before any trial. paine had prevailed with his pen, but a terrible revenge was plotted against his good name. the farrier william carver, in whose house he had lived, turned judas, and concocted with cheetham the libels against paine that have passed as history. chapter xix. personal traits on july , , two young english gentlemen, daniel and william constable, arrived in new york, and for some years travelled about the country. the diary kept by daniel constable has been shown me by his nephew, clair j. grèce, ll.d. it contains interesting allusions to paine, to whom they brought an introduction from rickman. "july . to the globe, in maiden lane, to dine. mr. segar at the globe offered to send for mr. paine, who lived only a few doors off: he seemed a true painite. " d. william and i went to see thomas paine. when we first called he was taking a nap.... back to mr. paine's about o'clock, sat about an hour with him.... i meant to have had t. paine in a carriage with me to-morrow, and went to inquire for one. the price was $ per hour, but when i proposed it to t. p. he declined it on account of his health. " th. friday. fine clear day. the annual festival of independence. we were up by five o'clock, and on the battery saw the cannons fired, in commemoration of liberty, which had been employed by the english against the sacred cause. the people seemed to enter into the spirit of the day: stores &c were generally shut.... in the fore part of the day i had the honour of walking with t. paine along the broadway. the day finished peaceably, and we saw no scenes of quarreling or drunkenness. " . a very hot day. evening, met t. paine in the broadway and walked with him to his house. "oct. [on returning from a journey]. called to see t. paine, who was walking about carver's shop." "nov. . changed snuff-boxes with t. paine at his lodgings.* the old philosopher, in bed at o'clock afternoon, seems as talkative and well as when we saw him in the summer." * dr. grèce showed me paine's papier-machë snuff-box, which his uncle had fitted with silver plate, inscription, decorative eagle, and banner of "liberty, equality." it is kept in a jewel-box with an engraving of paine on the lid. in a letter written jointly by the brothers to their parents, dated july th, they say that paine "begins to feel the effects of age. the print i left at horley is a very strong likeness. he lives with a small family who came from lewes [carvers] quite retired, and but little known or noticed." they here also speak of "the honour of walking with our old friend t. paine in the midst of the bustle on independence day." there is no suggestion, either here or in the diary, that these gentlemen of culture and position observed anything in the appearance or habits of paine that diminished the pleasure of meeting him. in november they travelled down the mississippi, and on their return to new york, nine months later, they heard (july , ) foul charges against paine from carver. "paine has left his house, and they have had a violent disagreement. carver charges paine with many foul vices, as debauchery, lying, ingratitude, and a total want of common honour in all his actions, says that he drinks regularly a quart of brandy per day." but next day they call on paine, in "the bowery road," and william constable writes: "he looks better than last year. he read us an essay on national defence, comparing the different expenses and powers of gunboats and ships of war and, batteries in protecting a sea coast; and gave d. c. [daniel constable] a copy of his examination of the texts of scriptures called prophecies, etc. which he published a short time since. he says that this work is of too high a cut for the priests and that they will not touch it." these brothers constable met fulton, a friend of paine's just then experimenting with his steam-boat on the hudson. they also found that a scandal had been caused by a report brought to the british consul that thirty passengers on the ship by which they (the constables) came, had "the bible bound up with the 'age of reason,' and that they spoke in very disrespectful terms of the mother country." paine had left his farm at new rochelle, at which place the travellers heard stories of his slovenliness, also that he was penurious, though nothing was said of intemperance. inquiry among aged residents of new rochelle has been made from time to time for a great many years. the hon. j. b. stallo, late u. s. minister to italy, told me that in early life he visited the place and saw persons who had known paine, and declared that paine resided there without fault. paine lived for a time with mr. staple, brother of the influential captain pelton, and the adoption of paine's religious views by some of these persons caused the odium.* paine sometimes preached at new rochelle. * mr. burger, pelton's clerk, used to drive paine about daily. vale says: "he [burger] describes mr. paine as really abstemious, and when pressed to drink by those on whom he called during his rides, he usually refused with great firmness, but politely. in one of these rides he was met by de witt clinton, and their mutual greetings were extremely hearty. mr. paine at this time was the reverse of morose, and though careless of his dress and prodigal of his snuff, he was always clean and well clothed. mr. burger describes him as familiar with children and humane to animals, playing with the neighboring children, and communicating a friendly pat even to a passing dog." our frontispiece shows paine's dress in . cheetham publishes a correspondence purporting to have passed between paine and carver, in november, , in which the former repudiates the latter's bill for board (though paying it), saying he was badly and dishonestly treated in carver's house, and had taken him out of his will. to this a reply is printed, signed by carver, which he certainly never wrote; specimens of his composition, now before me, prove him hardly able to spell a word correctly or to frame a sentence.* * in the concord (mass.) public library there is a copy of cheetham's book, which belonged to carver, by whom it was filled with notes. he says: "cheetham was a hypocrate turned tory," "paine was not drunk when he wrote the thre pedlars for me, i sold them to a gentleman, a jew for a dollar-- cheetham knew that he told a lie saying paine was drunk--any person reading cheetham's life of paine that [sic] his pen was guided by prejudice that was brought on by cheetham's altering a peice that paine had writen as an answer to a peice that had apeared in his paper, i had careyd the peice to cheetham, the next day the answer was printed with the alteration, paine was angry, sent me to call cheetham i then asked how he undertook to mutilate the peice, if aney thing was rong he knew ware to find him & sad he never permitted a printer to alter what he had wrote, that the sence of the peice was spoiled--by this means their freind ship was broken up through life------" (the marginalia in this volume have been copied for me with exactness by miss e. g. crowell, of concord.) the letter in cheetham shows a practised hand, and was evidently written for carver by the "biographer." this ungenuineness of carver's letter, and expressions not characteristic in that of paine render the correspondence mythical. although carver passed many penitential years hanging about paine celebrations, deploring the wrong he had done paine, he could not squarely repudiate the correspondence, to which cheetham had compelled him to swear in court. he used to declare that cheetham had obtained under false pretences and printed without authority letters written in anger. but thrice in his letter to paine carver says he means to publish it. its closing words are: "there may be many grammatical errours in this letter. to you i have no apologies to make; but i hope a candid and impartial public will not view them 'with a critick's eye.'" this is artful; besides the fling at paine's faulty grammar, which carver could not discover, there is a pretence to faults in his own letter which do not exist, but certainly would have existed had he written it the style throughout is transparently cheethan's. * "a bone to gnaw for grant thorburn." by w. carver ( ). in the book at concord the unassisted carver writes: "the libel for wich [sic] he [cheetham] was sued was contained in the letter i wrote to paine." this was the libel on madame bonneville, carver's antipathy to whom arose from his hopes of paine's property. in reply to paine's information, that he was excluded from his will, carver says: "i likewise have to inform you, that i totally disregard the power of your mind and pen; for should you, by your conduct, permit this letter to appear in public, in vain may you attempt to print or publish any thing afterwards." this is plainly an attempt at blackmail. carver's letter is dated december , . it was not published during paine's life, for the farrier hoped to get back into the will by frightening madame bonneville and other friends of paine with the stories he meant to tell. about a year before paine's death he made another blackmailing attempt. he raked up the scandalous stories published by "oldys" concerning paine's domestic troubles in lewes, pretending that he knew the facts personally. "of these facts mr. carver has offered me an affidavit," says cheetham. "he stated them all to paine in a private letter which he wrote to him a year before his death; to which no answer was returned. mr. carver showed me the letter soon after it was written." on this plain evidence of long conspiracy with cheetham, and attempt to blackmail paine when he was sinking in mortal illness, carver never made any comment. when paine was known to be near his end carver made an effort at conciliation. "i think it a pity," he wrote, "that you or myself should depart this life with envy in our hearts against each other--and i firmly believe that no difference would have taken place between us, had not some of your pretended friends endeavored to have caused a separation of friendship between us." but abjectness was not more effectual than blackmail. the property went to the bonnevilles, and carver, who had flattered paine's "great mind," in the letter just quoted, proceeded to write a mean one about the dead author for cheetham's projected biography. he did not, however, expect cheetham to publish his slanderous letter about paine and madame bonneville, which he meant merely for extortion; nor could cheetham have got the letter had he not written it. all of cheetham's libels on paine's life in new york are amplifications of carver's insinuations. in describing cheetham as "an abominable liar," carver passes sentence on himself. on this blackmailer, this confessed libeller, rest originally and fundamentally the charges relating to paine's last years. it has already been stated that paine boarded for a time in the bayeaux mansion. with mrs. bayeaux lived her daughter, mrs. badeau. in i visited, at new rochelle, mr. albert badeau, son of the lady last named, finding him, as i hope he still is, in good health and memory. seated in the arm-chair given him by his mother, as that in which paine used to sit by their fireside, i took down for publication some words of his. "my mother would never tolerate the aspersions on mr. paine. she declared steadfastly to the end of her life that he was a perfect gentleman, and a most faithful friend, amiable, gentle, never intemperate in eating or drinking. my mother declared that my grandmother equally pronounced the disparaging reports about mr. paine slanders. i never remember to have seen my mother angry except when she heard such calumnies of mr. paine, when she would almost insult those who uttered them. my mother and grandmother were very religious, members of the episcopal church." what mr. albert badeau's religious opinions are i do not know, but no one acquainted with that venerable gentleman could for an instant doubt his exactness and truthfulness. it certainly was not until some years after his return to america that any slovenliness could be observed about paine, and the contrary was often remarked in former times.* after he had come to new york, and was neglected by the pious ladies and gentlemen with whom he had once associated, he neglected his personal appearance. "let those dress who need it," he said to a friend. * "he dined at my table," said aaron burr. "i always considered mr. paine a gentleman, a pleasant companion, and a good-natured and intelligent man; decidedly temperate, with a proper regard for his personal appearance, whenever i have seen him." (quoted in the beacon, no. , may, .) "in his dress." says joel barlow, "he was generally very cleanly, though careless, and wore his hair queued with side curls, and powdered, like a gentleman of the old french school. his manners were easy and gracious, his knowledge universal." paine was prodigal of snuff, but used tobacco in no other form. he had aversion to profanity, and never told or listened to indecent anecdotes. with regard to the charges of excessive drinking made against paine, i have sifted a vast mass of contrarious testimonies, and arrived at the following conclusions. in earlier life paine drank spirits, as was the custom in england and america; and he unfortunately selected brandy, which causes alcoholic indigestion, and may have partly produced the oft-quoted witness against him--his somewhat red nose. his nose was prominent, and began to be red when he was fifty-five. that was just after he had been dining a good deal with rich people in england, and at public dinners. during his early life in england ( -- ) no instance of excess was known, and paine expressly pointed the excise office to his record. "no complaint of the least dishonesty or intemperance has ever appeared against me." his career in america ( - ) was free from any suspicion of intemperance. john hall's daily diary while working with paine for months is minute, mentioning everything, but in no case is a word said of paine's drinking. this was in - . paine's enemy, chalmers ("oldys"), raked up in every charge he could against paine, but intemperance is not included. paine told rickman that in paris, when borne down by public and private affliction, he had been driven to excess. that period i have identified on a former page (ii., p. ) as a few weeks in , when his dearest friends were on their way to the guillotine, whither he daily expected to follow them. after that paine abstained altogether from spirits, and drank wine in moderation. mr. lovett, who kept the city hotel, new york, where paine stopped in and for some weeks, wrote a note to caleb bingham, of boston, in which he says that paine drank less than any of his boarders. gilbert vale, in preparing his biography, questioned d. burger, the clerk of pelton's store at new rochelle, and found that paine's liquor supply while there was one quart of rum per week. brandy he had entirely discarded. he also questioned jarvis, the artist, in whose house paine resided in new york (church street) five months, who declared that what cheetham had reported about paine and himself was entirely false. paine, he said, "did not and could not drink much." in july, , just after paine's death, cheetham wrote barlow for information concerning paine, "useful in illustrating his character," and said: "he was a great drunkard here, and mr. m., a merchant of this city, who lived with him when he was arrested by order of robespierre, tells me he was intoxicated when that event happened." barlow, recently returned from europe, was living just out of washington; he could know nothing of cheetham's treachery, and fell into his trap; he refuted the story of "mr. m.," of course, but took it for granted that a supposed republican editor would tell the truth about paine in new york, and wrote of the dead author as having "a mind, though strong enough to bear him up and to rise elastic under the heaviest hand of oppression, yet unable to endure the contempt of his former friends and fellow-laborers, the rulers of the country that had received his first and greatest services; a mind incapable of looking down with serene compassion, as it ought, on the rude scoffs of their imitators, a new generation that knows him not; a mind that shrinks from their society, and unhappily seeks refuge in low company, or looks for consolation in the sordid, solitary bottle, etc."! barlow, misled as he was, well knew paine's nature, and that if he drank to excess it was not from appetite, but because of ingratitude and wrong. the man was not a stock or a stone. if any can find satisfaction in the belief that paine found no christian in america so merciful as rum, they may perhaps discover some grounds for it in a brief period of his sixty-ninth year. while living in the house of carver, paine was seized with an illness that threatened to be mortal, and from which he never fully recovered. it is probable that he was kept alive for a time by spirits during the terrible time, but this ceased when in the latter part of he left carver's to live with jarvis. in the spring of he resided in the house of mr. hitt, a baker, in broome street, and there remained ten months. mr. hitt reports that paine's weekly supply then--his seventy-second year, and his last--was three quarts of rum per week. * todd's "joel barlow," p. . the "mr. m." was one murray, an english speculator in france, where he never resided with paine at all. after paine had left carver's he became acquainted with more people. the late judge tabor's recollections have been sent me by his son, mr. stephen tabor, of independence, iowa. "i was an associate editor of the _new york beacon_ with col. john fellows, then ( ) advanced in years, but retaining all the vigor and fire of his manhood. he was a ripe scholar, a most agreeable companion, and had been the correspondent and friend of jefferson, madison, monroe and john quincy adams, under all of whom he held a responsible office. one of his productions was dedicated, by permission, to [j. q.] adams, and was republished and favorably received in england. col. fellows was the soul of honor and inflexible in his adherence to truth. he was intimate with paine during the whole time he lived after returning to this country, and boarded for a year in the same house with him. "i also was acquainted with judge hertell, of new york city, a man of wealth and position, being a member of the new york legislature, both in the senate and assembly, and serving likewise on the judicial bench. like col. fellows, he was an author, and a man of unblemished life and irreproachable character. "these men assured me of their own knowledge derived from constant personal intercourse during the last seven years of paine's life, that he never kept any company but what was entirely respectable, and that all accusations of drunkenness were grossly untrue. they saw him under all circumstances and _knew_ that he was never intoxicated. nay, more, they said, for that day, he was even abstemious. that was a drinking age and paine, like jefferson, could 'bear but little spirit,' so that he was constitutionally temperate. "cheetham refers to william carver and the portrait painter jarvis. i visited carver, in company with col. fellows, and naturally conversed with the old man about paine. he said that the allegation that paine was a drunkard was altogether without foundation. in speaking of his letter to paine which cheetham published, carver said that he was angry when he wrote it and that he wrote unwisely, as angry men generally do; that cheetham obtained the letter under false pretenses and printed it without authority. "col. fellows and judge hertell visited paine throughout the whole course of his last illness. they repeatedly conversed with him on religious topics and they declared that he died serenely, philosophically and resignedly. this information i had directly from their own lips, and their characters were so spotless, and their integrity so unquestioned, that more reliable testimony it would be impossible to give." during paine's life the world heard no hint of sexual immorality connected with him, but after his death cheetham published the following: "paine brought with him from paris, and from her husband in whose house he had lived, margaret brazier bonneville, and her three sons. _thomas_ has the features, countenance, and temper of paine," madame bonneville promptly sued cheetham for slander. cheetham had betrayed his "pal," carver, by printing the letter concocted to blackmail paine, for whose composition the farrier no doubt supposed he had paid the editor with stories borrowed from "oldys," or not actionable. cheetham probably recognized, when he saw madame bonneville in court, that he too had been deceived, and that any illicit relation between the accused lady and paine, thirty years her senior, was preposterous. cheetham's lawyer (griffin) insinuated terrible things that his witnesses were to prove, but they all dissolved into carver. mrs. ryder, with whom paine had boarded, admitted trying to make paine smile by saying thomas was like him, but vehemently repudiated the slander. "mrs. bonneville often came to visit him. she never saw but decency with mrs. bonneville. she never staid there but one night, when paine was very sick." mrs. dean was summoned to support one of carver's lies that madame bonneville tried to cheat paine, but denied the whole story (which has unfortunately been credited by vale and other writers). the rev. mr. foster, who had a claim against paine's estate for tuition of the bonnevilles, was summoned. "mrs. bonneville," he testified, "might possibly have said as much as that but for paine she would not have come here, and that he was under special obligations to provide for her children." a westchester witness, peter underbill, testified that "he one day told mrs. bonneville that her child resembled paine, and mrs. bonneville said it was paine's child." but, apart from the intrinsic incredibility of this statement (unless she meant "god-son"), underbill's character broke down under the testimony of his neighbors, judge sommerville and captain pelton. cheetham had thus no dependence but carver, who actually tried to support his slanders from the dead lips of paine! but in doing so he ruined cheetham's case by saying that paine told him madame bonneville was never the wife of m. bonneville; the charge being that she was seduced from her husband. it was extorted from carver that madame bonneville, having seen his scurrilous letter to paine, threatened to prosecute him; also that he had taken his wife to visit madame bonneville. then it became plain to carver that cheetham's case was lost, and he deserted it on the witness-stand; declaring that "he had never seen the slightest indication of any meretricious or illicit commerce between paine and mrs. bonneville, that they never were alone together, and that all the three children were alike the objects of paine's care." counsellor sampson (no friend to paine) perceived that paine's will was at the bottom of the business. "that is the key to this mysterious league of apostolic slanderers, mortified expectants and disappointed speculators." sampson's invective was terrific; cheetham rose and claimed protection of the court, hinting at a duel. sampson took a pinch of snuff, and pointing his finger at the defendant, said: "if he complains of personalities, he who is hardened in every gross abuse, he who lives reviling and reviled, who might construct himself a monument with no other materials but those records to which he is a party, and in which he stands enrolled as an offender*: if he cannot sit still to hear his accusation, but calls for the protection of the court against a counsel whose duty it is to make his crimes appear, how does she deserve protection, whom he has driven to the sad necessity of coming here to vindicate her honor, from those personalities he has lavished on her?" * cheetham was at the moment a defendant in nine or ten cases for libel. the editor of counsellor sampson's speech says that the jury "although composed of men of different political sentiments, returned in a few minutes a verdict of guilty." it is added: "the court, however, when the libeller came up the next day to receive his sentence, highly commended the book which contained the libellous publication, declared that it tended to serve the cause of religion, and imposed no other punishment on the libeller than the payment of $ , with a direction that the costs be taken out of it. it is fit to remark, lest foreigners who are unacquainted with our political condition should receive erroneous impressions, that mr. recorder hoffman does not belong to the republican party in america, but has been elevated to office by men in hostility to it, who obtained a temporary ascendency in the councils of state." * * "speech of counsellor sampson; with an introduction to the trial of james cheetham, esq., for a libel on margaret brazier bonneville, in his memoirs of thomas paine. philadelphia: printed by john sweeny, no- arch street, ." i am indebted for the use of this rare pamphlet and for other information, to the industrious collector of causes celebres, mr. e. b. wynn, of watertown, n. y. madame bonneville had in court eminent witnesses to her character,--thomas addis emmet, fulton, jarvis, and ladies whose children she had taught french. yet the scandal was too tempting an illustration of the "age of reason" to disappear with cheetham's defeat. americans in their peaceful habitations were easily made suspicious of a french woman who had left her husband in paris and followed paine; they could little realize the complications into which ten tempestuous years had thrown thousands of families in france, and how such poor radicals as the bonnevilles had to live as they could. the scandal branched into variants. twenty-five years later pious grant thorburn promulgated that paine had run off from paris with the wife of a tailor named palmer. "paine made no scruples of living with this woman openly." (mrs. elihu palmer, in her penury, was employed by paine to attend to his rooms, etc, during a few months of illness.) as to madame bonneville, whose name grant thorburn seems not to have heard, she was turned into a romantic figure. thorburn says that paine escaped the guillotine by the execution of another man in his place. "the man who suffered death for paine, left a widow, with two young children in poor circumstances. paine brought them all to this country, supported them while he lived, and, it is said, left most of his property to them when he died. the widow and children lived in apartments up town by themselves. he then boarded with carver. i believe his conduct was disinterested and honorable to the widow. she appeared to be about thirty years of age, and was far from being handsome."* * "forty years' residence in america." grant thorburn was afterwards led to doubt whether this woman was the widow of the man guillotined, but declares that when "paine first brought her out, he and his friends passed her off as such." as a myth of the time ( ), and an indication that paine's generosity to the bonneville family was well known in new york, the story is worth quoting. but the bonnevilles never escaped from the scandal. long years afterward, when the late gen. bonneville was residing in st. louis, it was whispered about that he was the natural son of thomas paine, though he was born before paine ever met madame bonneville. of course it has gone into the religious encyclopaedias. the best of them, that of mcclintock and strong, says: "one of the women he supported [in france] followed him to this country." after the fall of napoleon, nicholas bonneville, relieved of his surveillance, hastened to new york, where he and his family were reunited, and enjoyed the happiness provided by paine's self-sacrificing economy. the present writer, having perused some thou-sands of documents concerning paine, is convinced that no charge of sensuality could have been brought against him by any one acquainted with the facts, except out of malice. had paine held, or practised, any latitudinarian theory of sexual liberty, it would be recorded here, and his reasons for the same given. i have no disposition to suppress anything. paine was conservative in such matters. and as to his sacrificing the happiness of a home to his own pleasure, nothing could be more inconceivable. above all, paine was a profoundly religious man,--one of the few in our revolutionary era of whom it can be said that his delight was in the law of his lord, and in that law did he meditate day and night consequently, he could not escape the immemorial fate of the great believers, to be persecuted for unbelief--by unbelievers. chapter xx. death and resurrection the blow that paine received by the refusal of his vote at new rochelle was heavy. elisha ward, a tory in the revolution, had dexterously gained power enough to give his old patrons a good revenge on the first advocate of independence. the blow came at a time when his means were low, and paine resolved to apply to congress for payment of an old debt. the response would at once relieve him, and overwhelm those who were insulting him in new york. this led to a further humiliation, and one or two letters to congress, of which paine's enemies did not fail to make the most. * paine had always felt that congress was in his debt for his voyage to france for supplies with col. laurens (i., p. ). in a letter (feb. , ) to robert morris, paine mentions that when col. laurens proposed that he should accompany him, as secretary, he was on the point of establishing a newspaper. he had purchased twenty reams of paper, and mr. izard had sent to st. eustatia for seventy more. this scheme, which could hardly fail of success, was relinquished for the voyage. it was undertaken at the urgent solicitation of laurens, and paine certainly regarded it as official. he had ninety dollars when he started, in bills of exchange; when col. laurens left him, after their return, he had but two louis d'or. the memorial sent by paine to congress (jan. , ) recapitulated facts known to my reader. it was presented by the hon. george clinton, jr., february , and referred to the committee of claims. on february th paine wroth a statement concerning the $ , given him ( ) by congress, which he maintained was an indemnity for injustice done him in the deane case. laurens had long been dead. the committee consulted the president, whose reply i know not. vice-president clinton wrote (mardi , ) that from the information i received at the time i have reason to believe that mr. paine accompanied col. laurens on his mission to france in the course of our revolutionary war, for the purpose of negotiating a loan, and that he acted as his secretary on that occasion; but although i have no doubt of the truth of this fact, i cannot assert it from my own actual knowledge." there was nothing found on the journals of congress to show paine's connection with the mission. the old author was completely upset by his longing to hear the fate of his memorial, and he wrote two complaints of the delay, showing that his nerves were shattered. "if." he says, march th, "my memorial was referred to the committee of claims for the purpose of losing it, it is unmanly policy. after so many years of service my heart grows cold towards america." the letters are those of a broken-hearted man, and it seems marvellous that jefferson, madison, and the clintons did not intervene and see that some recognition of paine's former services, by those who should not have forgotten them, was made without the ill-judged memorial. while they were enjoying their grandeur the man who, as jefferson wrote, "steadily laboured, and with as much effect as any man living," to secure america freedom, was living--or rather dying--in a miserable lodging-house, partition street. he had gone there for economy; for he was exhibiting that morbid apprehension about his means which is a well-known symptom of decline in those who have suffered poverty in early life. washington, with , acres, wrote in his last year as if facing ruin. paine had only a little farm at new rochelle. he had for some time suffered from want of income, and at last had to sell the farm he meant for the bonnevilles for $ , ; but the purchaser died, and at his widow's appeal the contract was cancelled. it was at this time that he appealed to congress. it appears, however, that paine was not anxious for himself, but for the family of madame bonneville, whose statement on this point is important. the last letter that i can find of paine's was: written to jefferson, july , : "the british ministry have out-schemed themselves. it is not difficult to see what the motive and object of that ministry: were in issuing the orders of council. they expected those orders would force all the commerce of the united states to england, and then, by giving permission to such cargoes as they did not want for themselves to depart for the continent of europe, to raise a revenue out of those countries and america.' but instead of this they have lost revenue; that is, they have-lost the revenue they used to receive from american imports, and instead of gaining all the commerce they have lost it all. "this being the case with the british ministry it is natural to suppose they would be glad to tread back their steps, if they could do it without too much exposing their ignorance and obstinacy. the embargo law empowers the president to suspend its operation whenever he shall be satisfied that our ships can pass in safety. it therefore includes the idea of empowering him to use means for arriving at that event. suppose the president were to authorise mr. pinckney to propose to the british ministry that the united states would negociate with france for rescinding the milan decree, on condition the english ministry would rescind their orders of council; and in that case the united states would recall their embargo. france and england stand now at such a distance that neither can propose any thing to the other, neither are there any neutral powers to act as mediators. the u. s. is the only power that can act. "perhaps the british ministry if they listen to the proposal will want to add to it the berlin decree, which excludes english commerce from the continent of europe; but this we have nothing to do with, neither has it any thing to do with the embargo. the british orders of council and the milan decree are parallel cases, and the cause of the embargo. yours in friendship." paines last letters to the president are characteristic. one pleads for american intervention to stay the hand of french oppression among the negroes in st. domingo; for the colonization of louisiana with free negro laborers; and his very last letter is an appeal for mediation between france and england for the sake of peace. nothing came of these pleadings of paine; but perhaps on his last stroll along the hudson, with his friend fulton, to watch the little steamer, he may have recognized the real mediator beginning its labors for the federation of the world. early in july, , paine removed to a comfortable abode, that of mrs. ryder, near which madame bonneville and her two sons resided. the house was on herring street (afterwards bleecker), and not far, he might be pleased to find, from "reason street." here he made one more attempt to wield his pen,--the result being a brief letter "to the federal faction," which he warns that they are endangering american commerce by abusing france and bonaparte, provoking them to establish a navigation act that will exclude american ships from europe. "the united states have flourished, unrivalled in commerce, fifteen or sixteen years. but it is not a permanent state of things. it arose from the circumstances of the war, and most probably will change at the close of the present war. the federalists give provocation enough to promote it." apparently this is the last letter paine ever sent to the printer. the year passed peacefully away; indeed there is reason to believe that from the middle of july, , to the end of january, , he fairly enjoyed existence. during this time he made acquaintance with the worthy willett hicks, watchmaker, who was a quaker preacher. his conversations with willett hicks--whose cousin, elias hicks, became such an important figure in the quaker society twenty years later--were fruitful. seven serene months then passed away. towards the latter part of january, , paine was very feeble. on the th he wrote and signed his will, in which he reaffirms his theistic faith. on february st the committee of claims reported unfavorably on his memorial, while recording, "that mr. paine rendered great and eminent services to the united states during their struggle for liberty and independence cannot be doubted by any person acquainted with his labours in the cause, and attached to the principles of the contest." on february th he had some fever, and a doctor was sent for. mrs. ryder attributed the attack to paine's having stopped taking stimulants, and their resumption was prescribed. about a fortnight later symptoms of dropsy appeared. towards the end of april paine was removed to a house on the spot now occupied by no. grove street, madame bonneville taking up her abode under the same roof. the owner was william a. thompson, once a law partner of aaron burr, whose wife, _nee_ maria holdron, was a niece of elihu palmer. the whole of the back part of the house (which was in a lot, no street being then cut) was given up to paine.* * the topographical facts were investigated by john randel, jr., civil engineer, at the request of david c. valentine, clerk of the common council, new york, his report being rendered april , . reports of neglect of paine by madame bonneville have been credited by some, but are unfounded she gave all the time she could to the sufferer, and did her best for him. willett hicks sometimes called, and his daughter (afterwards mrs. cheese-man) used to take paine delicacies. the only procurable nurse was a woman named hedden, who combined piety and artfulness. paine's physician was the most distinguished in new york, dr. romaine, but nurse hedden managed to get into the house one dr. manly, who turned out to be cheetham's spy. manly afterwards contributed to cheetham's book a lying letter, in which he claimed to have been paine's physician. it will be seen, however, by madame bonneville's narrative to cobbett, that paine was under the care of his friend. dr. romaine. as manly, assuming that he called as many did, never saw paine alone, he was unable to assert that paine recanted, but he converted the exclamations of the sufferer into prayers to christ.* * another claimant to have been paine's physician has been cited. in (n. y, observer) feb. th) rev. dr. wickham reported from a late dr. matson smith, of new rochelle, that he had been paine's physician, and witnessed his drunkenness. unfortunately for wickham he makes smith say it was on his farm where paine "spent his latter days." paine was not on his farm for two years before his death. smith could never have attended paine unless in , when he had a slight trouble with his hands,--the only illness he ever had at new rochelle,--while the guest of a neighbor, who attests his sobriety. finally, a friend of dr. smith is living, mr. albert willcox, who writes me his recollection of what smith told him of paine. neither drunkenness, nor any item of wickham's report is mentioned. he said paine was afraid of death, but could only have heard it. the god of wrath who ruled in new york a hundred years, through the ministerial prerogatives, was guarded by a cerberean legend. the three alternatives of the heretic were, recantation, special judgment, terrible death. before paine's arrival in america, the excitement on his approach had tempted a canny scot, donald fraser, to write an anticipated "recantation" for him, the title-page being cunningly devised so as to imply that there had been an actual recantation. on his arrival in new york, paine found it necessary to call fraser to account, the scotchman pleaded that he had vainly tried to earn a living as fencing-master, preacher, and school-teacher, but had got eighty dollars for writing the "recantation." paine said: "i am glad you found the expedient a successful shift for your needy family; but write no more concerning thomas paine. i am satisfied with your acknowledgment--try something more worthy of a man."* * dr. francis' "old new york," p. . the second mouth of cerberus was noisy throughout the land; revivalists were describing in new jersey how some "infidel" had been struck blind in virginia, and in virginia how one was struck dumb in new jersey. but here was the very head and front of what they called "infidelity," thomas paine, who ought to have gathered in his side a sheaf of thunderbolts, preserved by more marvellous "providences" than any sectarian saint. out of one hundred and sixty carried to the guillotine from his prison, he alone was saved, by the accident of a chalk mark affixed to the wrong side of his cell door. on two ships he prepared to return to america, but was prevented; one sank at sea, the other was searched by the british for him particularly. and at the very moment when new rochelle disciples were calling down fire on his head, christopher dederick tried vainly to answer the imprecation; within a few feet of paine, his gun only shattered the window at which the author sat. "providence must be as bad as thomas paine," wrote the old deist. this amounted to a sort of contest like that of old between the prophets of baal and those of jehovah. the deists were crying to their antagonists: "perchance he sleepeth." it seemed a test case. if paine was spared, what heretic need tremble? but he reached his threescore years and ten in comfort; and the placard of satan flying off with him represented a last hope. skepticism and rationalism were not understood by pious people a hundred years ago. in some regions they are not understood yet. renan thinks he will have his legend in france modelled after judas. but no educated christian conceives of a recantation or extraordinary death-bed for a darwin, a parker, an emerson. the late mr. brad-laugh had some fear that he might be a posthumous victim of the "infidel's legend." in , when he was ill in st luke's hospital, new york, he desired me to question the physicians and nurses, that i might, if necessary, testify to his fearlessness and fidelity to his views in the presence of death. but he has died without the "legend," whose decline dates from paine's case; that was its crucial challenge. the whole nation had recently been thrown into a wild excitement by the fall of alexander hamilton in a duel with aaron burr. hamilton's world-liness had been notorious, but the clergymen (bishop moore and the presbyterian john mason) reported his dying words of unctuous piety and orthodoxy. in a public letter to the rev. john mason, paine said: "between you and your rival in communion ceremonies, dr. moore of the episcopal church, you have, in order to make yourselves appear of some importance, reduced general hamilton's character to that of a feeble-minded man, who in going out of the world wanted a passport from a priest. which of you was first applied to for this purpose is a matter of no consequence. the man, sir, who puts his trust and confidence in god, that leads a just and moral life, and endeavors to do good, does not trouble himself about priests when his hour of departure comes, nor permit priests to trouble themselves about him." the words were widely commented on, and both sides looked forward, almost as if to a prize-fight, to the hour when the man who had unmade thrones, whether in earth or heaven, must face the king of terrors. since michael and satan had their legendary combat for the body of moses, there was nothing like it. in view of the pious raids on paine's death-bed, freethinkers have not been quite fair. to my own mind, some respect is due to those humble fanatics, who really believed that paine was approaching eternal fires, and had a frantic desire to save him.* * nor should it be forgotten that several liberal christians, like hicks, were friendly towards paine at the close of his life, whereas his most malignant enemies were of his own "painite" household, carver and cheetham. mr. william erving tells me that he remembers an english clergyman in new york, named cunningham, who used to visit his (erving's) father. he heard him say that paine and he were friends; and that "the whole fault was that people hectored paine, and made him say things he would never say to those who treated him as a gentleman." paine had no fear of death; madame bonneville's narrative shows that his fear was rather of living too long. but he had some such fear as that of voltaire when entering his house at fernay after it began to lighten. he was not afraid of the lightning, he said, but of what the neighboring priest would make of it should he be struck. paine had some reason to fear that the zealots who had placarded the devil flying away with him might fulfil their prediction by body-snatching. his unwillingness to be left alone, ascribed to superstitious terror, was due to efforts to get a recantation from him, so determined that he dare not be without witnesses. he had foreseen this. while living with jarvis, two years before, he desired him to bear witness that he maintained his theistic convictions to the last. jarvis merrily proposed that he should make a sensation by a mock recantation, but the author said, "tom paine never told a lie." when he knew that his illness was mortal he solemnly reaffirmed these opinions in the presence of madame bonneville, dr. romaine, mr. haskin, captain pelton, and thomas nixon.* the nurse hedden, if the catholic bishop of boston (fenwick) remembered accurately thirty-seven years later, must have conspired to get him into the patient's room, from which, of course, he was stormily expelled. but the bishop's story is so like a pious novelette that, in the absence of any mention of his visit by madame bonneville, herself a catholic, one cannot be sure that the interview he waited so long to report did not take place in some slumberous episcopal chamber in boston.** * sec the certificate of nixon and pelton to cobbett (vale, p. ). ** bishop fenwick's narrative (u. s. catholic magazine, ) is quoted in the n. y. observer\ september , . (extremes become friends when a freethinker is to be crucified.) it was rumored that paine's adherents were keeping him under the influence of liquor in order that he might not recant,--so convinced, at heart, or enamoured of calvinism was this martyr of theism, who had published his "age of reason" from the prison where he awaited the guillotine.* * engineer randel (orthodox), in his topographical report to the clerk of the city council ( ), mentions that the "very worthy mechanic," amasa wordsworth, who saw paine daily, told him "there was no truth in such report, and that thomas paine had declined saying anything on that subject [religion]." "paine," testifies dr. francis, "clung to his infidelity to the last moment of his natural life." dr. francis (orthodox) heard that paine yielded to king alcohol, but says cheetham wrote with "settled malignity," and suspects "sinister motives" in his "strictures on the fruits of unbelief in the degradation of the wretched paine." of what his principles had cost him paine had near his end a reminder that cut him to the heart. albert gallatin had remained his friend, but his connections, the fews and nicholsons, had ignored the author they once idolized. the woman for whom he had the deepest affection, in america, had been kitty nicholson, now mrs. few. henry adams, in his biography of gallatin, says: "when confined to his bed with his last illness he [paine] sent for mrs. few, who came to see him, and when they parted she spoke some words of comfort and religious hope. poor paine only turned his face to the wall, and kept silence." what is mr. adams' authority for this? according to rick-man, sherwin, and vale, mr. and mrs. few came of their own accord, and "mrs. few expressed a wish to renew their former friendship." paine said to her, "very impressively, 'you have neglected me, and i beg that you will leave the room.' mrs. few went into the garden and wept bitterly." i doubt this tradition also, but it was cruelly tantalizing for his early friend, after ignoring him six years, to return with death. if, amid tortures of this kind, the annoyance of fanatics and the "painites" who came to watch them, and the paroxysms of pain, the sufferer found relief in stimulants, the present writer can only reflect with satisfaction that such resource existed. for some time no food would stay on his stomach. in such weakness and helplessness he was for a week or so almost as miserable as the christian spies could desire, and his truest friends were not sorrowful when the peace of death approached. after the years in which the stories of paine's wretched end have been accumulating, now appears the testimony of the catholic lady,--persons who remember madame bonneville assure me that she was a perfect lady,--that paine's mind was active to the last, that shortly before death he made a humorous retort to dr. romaine, that he died after a tranquil night. paine died at eight o'clock on the morning of june , . shortly before, two clergymen had invaded his room, and so soon as they spoke about his opinions paine said: "let me alone; good morning!" madame bonneville asked if he was satisfied with the treatment he had received in her house, and he said "oh yes." these were the last words of thomas paine. on june th paine's friends assembled to look on his face for the last time. madame bonneville took a rose from her breast and laid it on that of her dead benefactor. his adherents were busy men, and mostly poor; they could not undertake the then difficult journey (nearly twenty-five miles) to the grave beyond new rochelle. of the _cortège_ that followed paine a contemptuous account was printed (aug. th) in the london packet: "extract of a letter dated june th, philadelphia, written by a gentleman lately returned from a tour: 'on my return from my journey, when i arrived near harlem, on york island, i met the funeral of tom paine on the road. it was going on to east chester. the followers were two negroes, the next a carriage with six drunken irishmen, then a riding chair with two men in it, one of whom was asleep, and then an irish quaker on horseback. i stopped my sulkey to ask the quaker what funeral it was; he said it was paine, and that his friends as well as his enemies were all glad that he was gone, for he had tired his friends out by his intemperance and frailties. i told him that paine had done a great deal of mischief in the world, and that, if there was any purgatory, he certainly would have a good share of it before the devil would let him go. the quaker replied, he would sooner take his chance with paine than any man in new york, on that score. he then put his horse on a trot, and left me.'" the funeral was going to west chester; one of the vehicles contained madame bonneville and her children; and the quaker was not an irishman. i have ascertained that a quaker did follow paine, and that it was willett hicks. hicks, who has left us his testimony that paine was "a good man, and an honest man," may have said that paine's friends were glad that he was gone, for it was only humane to so feel, but all said about "intemperance and frailties" is doubtless a gloss of the correspondent, like the "drunken irishmen" substituted for madame bonneville and her family. could the gentleman of the sulky have appreciated the historic dignity of that little _cortège_ he would have turned his horse's head and followed it. those two negroes, travelling twenty-five miles on foot, represented the homage of a race for whose deliverance paine had pleaded from his first essay written in america to his recent entreaty for the president's intervention in behalf of the slaughtered negroes of domingo.* one of those vehicles bore the wife of an oppressed french author, and her sons, one of whom was to do gallant service to this country in the war of , the other to explore the unknown west. behind the quaker preacher, who would rather take his chance in the next world with paine than with any man in new york, was following invisibly another of his family and name, who presently built up hicksite quakerism, the real monument of paine, to whom unfriendly friends refused a grave. * "on the last day men shall wear on their heads the dust, as ensign and as ornament of their lowly trust."--hafis. the grand people of america were not there, the clergy were not there; but beside the negroes stood the quaker preacher and the french catholic woman. madame bonneville placed her son benjamin--afterwards general in the united states army--at one end of the grave, and standing herself at the other end, cried, as the earth fell on the coffin: "oh, mr. paine, my son stands here as testimony of the gratitude of america, and i for france!" no sooner was paine dead than the ghoul sat gloating upon him. i found in the rush papers a letter from cheetham (july st) to benjamin rush: "since mr. paine's arrival in this city from washington, when on his way you very properly avoided him, his life, keeping the lowest company, has been an uninterrupted scene of filth, vulgarity, and drunkenness. as to the reports, that on his deathbed he had something like compunctious visitings of conscience with regard to his deistical writings and opinions, they are altogether groundless. he resisted very angrily, and with a sort of triumphant and obstinate pride, all attempts to draw him from those doctrines. much as you must have seen in the course of your professional practice of everything that is offensive in the poorest and most depraved of the species, perhaps you have met with nothing excelling the miserable condition of mr. paine. he had scarcely any visitants. it may indeed be said that he was totally neglected and forgotten. even mrs. bournville (sic) a woman, i cannot say a lady, whom he brought with him from paris, the wife of a parisian of that name, seemed desirous of hastening his death. he died at greenwich, in a small room he had hired in a very obscure house. he was hurried to his grave with hardly an attending person. an ill-natured epitaph, written on him in , when it was supposed he was dead, incorrectly describes the latter end of his life. he "blasphemes the almighty, lives in filth like a hog, is abandoned in death and interr'd like a dog." the object of this letter was to obtain from rush, for publication, some abuse of paine; but the answer honored paine, save for his heresy, and is quoted by freethinkers as a tribute. within a year the grave opened for cheetham also, and he sank into it branded by the law as the slanderer of a woman's honor, and scourged by the community as a traitor in public life. the day of paine's death was a day of judgment. he had not been struck blind or dumb; satan had not carried him off; he had lived beyond his threescore years and ten and died peacefully in his bed. the self-appointed messengers of zeus had managed to vex this prometheus who brought fire to men, but could not persuade him to whine for mercy, nor did the predicted thunderbolts come. this immunity of thomas paine brought the deity of dogma into a dilemma. it could be explained only on the the theory of an apology made and accepted by the said deity. plainly there had to be a recantation somewhere. either paine had to recant or dogma had to recant. the excitement was particularly strong among the quakers, who regarded paine as an apostate quaker, and perhaps felt compromised by his desire to be buried among them. willett hicks told gilbert vale that he had been beset by pleading questions. "did thee never hear him call on christ?" "as for money," said hicks, "i could have had any sum." there was found, later on, a quakeress, formerly a servant in the family of willett hicks, not proof against such temptations. she pretended that she was sent to carry some delicacy to paine, and heard him cry "lord jesus have mercy upon me"; she also heard him declare "if the devil has ever had any agency in any work he has had it in my writing that book [the 'age of reason']."* few souls are now so belated as to credit such stories; but my readers may form some conception of the mental condition of the community in which paine died from the fact that such absurdities were printed, believed, spread through the world. the quaker servant became a heroine, as the one divinely appointed witness of tom paine's recantation. * "life and gospel labors of stephen grellet." this "valuable young friend," as stephen grellet calls her, had married a quaker named hinsdale. grellet, a native of france, convert from voltaire, led the anti-hicksites, and was led by his partisanship to declare that elias promised him to suppress his opinions! the cant of the time was that "deism might do to live by but not to die by." but it had been announced in paine's obituaries that "some days previous to his demise he had an interview with some quaker gentlemen on the subject [of burial in their graveyard] but as he declined a renunciation of his deistical opinions his anxious wishes were not complied with." but ten years later, when hicks's deism was spreading, death-bed terrors seemed desirable, and mary (roscoe) hinsdale, formerly grellet's servant also, came forward to testify that the recantation refused by paine to the "quaker gentlemen," even for a much desired end, had been previously confided to her for no object at all! the story was published by one charles collins, a quaker, who afterwards admitted to gilbert vale his doubts of its truth, adding "some of our friends believe she indulges in opiates." (vale, p. ). but in the end it was that same mary that hastened the resurrection of thomas paine. the controversy as to whether mary was or was not a calumniator; whether orthodoxy was so irresistible that paine must needs surrender at last to a servant-girl who told him she had thrown his book into the fire; whether she was to be believed against her employer, who declared she never saw paine at all; all this kept paine alive. such boiling up from the abysses, of vulgar credulity, grotesque superstition, such commanding illustrations of the age of unreason, disgusted thoughtful christians.* * the excitement of the time was well illustrated in a notable caricature by the brilliant artist john wesley jarvis. paine is seen dead, his pillow "common sense," his hand holding a manuscript, "a rap on the knuckles for john mason." on his arm is the label, "answer to bishop watson." under him is written: "a man who devoted his whole life to the attainment of two objects--rights of man and freedom of conscience--had his vote denied when living, and was denied a grave when dead!" the catholic father o'brian (a notorious drunkard), with very red nose, kneels over paine, exclaiming, "oh you ugly drunken beast!" the rev. john mason (presbyterian) stamps on paine, exclaiming, "ah, tom! tom! thou 't get thy frying in hell; they 'll roast thee like a herring. "they 'll put thee in the furnace hot, and on thee bar the door: how the devils all will laugh to hear thee burst and roar!" the rev. dr. livingston kicks at paine's head, exclaiming, "how are the mighty fallen, right fol-de-riddle-lol!" bishop hobart kicks the feet, tinging: "right fol-de-rol, let's dance and sing, tom is dead, god save the king-- the infidel now low doth lie-- sing hallelujah--hallelujah!" a quaker turns away with a shovel, saying, "i 'll not bury thee." such was the religion which was supposed by some to have won paine's heart at last, but which, when mirrored in the controversy over his death, led to a tremendous reaction. the division in the quaker society swiftly developed. in december, , there was an afternoon meeting of quakers of a critical kind, some results of which led directly to the separation. the chief speaker was elias hicks, but it is also recorded that "willet hicks was there, and had a short testimony, which seemed to be impressive on the meeting." he had stood in silence beside the grave of the man whose chances in the next world he had rather take than those of any man in new york; but now the silence is broken.* * curiously enough, mary (roscoe) hinsdale turned up again. she had broken down under the cross-examination of william cobbett, but he had long been out of the country when the quaker separation took place. mary now reported that a distinguished member of the hicksite society, mary lock wood, had recanted in the same way as paine. this being proved false, the hysterical mary sank and remained in oblivion, from which she is recalled only by the rev. rip van winkle. it was the unique sentence on paine to recant and yet be damned. this honor belies the indifference expressed in the rune taught children sixty years ago: "poor tom paine! there he lies: nobody laughs and nobody cries: where he has gone or how he fares, nobody knows and nobody cares!" i told walt whitman, himself partly a product of hicksite quakerism, of the conclusion to which i had been steadily drawn, that thomas paine rose again in elias hicks, and was in some sort the origin of our one american religion. i said my visit was mainly to get his "testimony" on the subject for my book, as he was born in hicks' region, and mentions in "specimen days" his acquaintance with paine's friend, colonel fellows. walt said, for i took down his words at the time: "in my childhood a great deal was said of paine in our neighborhood, in long island. my father, walter whitman, was rather favorable to paine. i remember hearing elias hicks preach; and his look, slender figure, earnestness, made an impression on me, though i was only about eleven. he died in . he is well represented in the bust there, one of my treasures. i was a young man when i enjoyed the friendship of col. fellows,--then a constable of the courts; tall, with ruddy face, blue eyes, snowy hair, and a fine voice; neat in dress, an old-school gentleman, with a military air, who used to awe the crowd by his looks; they used to call him 'aristides.' i used to chat with him in tammany hall. it was a time when, in religion, there was as yet no philosophical middle-ground; people were very strong on one side or the other; there was a good deal of lying, and the liars were often well paid for their work. paine and his principles made the great issue. paine was double-damnably lied about. col. fellows was a man of perfect truth and exactness; he assured me that the stories disparaging to paine personally were quite false. paine was neither drunken nor filthy; he drank as other people did, and was a high-minded gentleman. i incline to think you right in supposing a connection between the paine excitement and the hicksite movement. paine left a deep, clear-cut impression on the public mind. col. fellows told me that while paine was in new york he had a much larger following than was generally supposed. after his death a reaction in his favor appeared among many who had opposed him, and this reaction became exceedingly strong between and , when the division among the quakers developed. probably william cobbett's conversion to paine had something to do with it. cobbett lived in the neighborhood of elias hicks, in long island, and probably knew him. hicks was a fair-minded man, and no doubt read paine's books carefully and honestly. i am very glad you are writing the life of paine. such a book has long been needed. paine was among the best and truest of men." paine's risen soul went marching on in england also. the pretended recantation proclaimed there was exploded by william cobbett, and the whole controversy over paine's works renewed. one after another deist was sent to prison for publishing paine's works, the last being richard carlile and his wife. in , the year in which william cobbett carried paine's bones to england, richard carlile and his wife, solely for this offence, were sent to prison,--he for three years, with fine of £ , , she for two years, with fine of £ ,* this was a suicidal victory for bigotry. when these two came out of prison they found that wealthy gentlemen had provided for them an establishment in fleet street, where these books were thenceforth sold unmolested. mrs. carlile's petition to the house of commons awakened that body and the whole country. when richard carlile entered prison it was as a captive deist; when he came out the freethinkers of england were generally atheists. * i have before me an old fly-leaf picture, issued by carlile in the same year. it shows paine in his chariot advancing against superstition. superstition is a snaky- haired demoness, with poison-cup in one hand and dagger in the other, surrounded by instruments of torture, and treading on a youth. behind her are priests, with mask, crucifix, and dagger. burning faggots surround them with a cloud, behind which are worshippers around an idol, with a priest near by, upholding a crucifix before a man burning at the stake. attended by fair genii, who uphold a banner inscribed, "moral rectitude." paine advances, uplifting in one hand the mirror of truth, in the other his "age of reason." there are ten stanzas describing the conflict, superstition being described as holding "in vassalage a doating world, till paine and reason burst upon the mind, and truth and deism their flag unfurled." but what was this atheism? merely another declaration of independence. common sense and common justice were entering into religion as they were entering into government. such epithets as "atheism," "infidelity," were but labels of outlawry which the priesthood of all denominations pronounced upon men who threatened their throne, precisely as "sedition" was the label of outlawry fixed by pitt on all hostility to george iii. in england, atheism was an insurrection of justice against any deity diabolical enough to establish the reign of terror in that country or any deity worshipped by a church which imprisoned men for their opinions. paine was a theist, but he arose legitimately in his admirer shelley, who was punished for atheism. knightly service was done by shelley in the struggle for the englishman's right to read paine. if any enlightened religious man of to-day had to choose between the godlessness of shelley and the godliness that imprisoned good men for their opinions, he would hardly select the latter. the genius of paine was in every word of shelley's letter to lord ellenborough on the punishment of eaton for publishing the "age of reason."* * "whence is any right derived, but that which power confers, for persecution? do you think to convert mr. eaton to your religion by embittering his existence? you might force him by torture to profess your tenets, but he could not believe them except you should make them credible, which perhaps exceeds your power. do you think to please the god you worship by this exhibition of your zeal? if so the demon to whom some nations offer human hecatombs is less barbarous than the deity of civilized society.... does the christian god, whom his followers eulogize as the deity of humility and peace--he, the regenerator of the world, the meek reformer--authorise one man to rise against another, and, because lictors are at his beck, to chain and torture him as an infidel? when the apostles went abroad to convert the nations, were they enjoined to stab and poison all who disbelieved the divinity of christ's mission?... the time is rapidly approaching--i hope that you, my lord, may live to behold its arrival--when the mahometan, the jew, the christian, the deist, and the atheist will live together in one community, equally sharing the benefits which arrive from its association, and united in the bonds of charity and brotherly love." in america "atheism" was never anything but the besom which again and again has cleared the human mind of phantasms represented in outrages on honest thinkers. in paine's time the phantasm which was called jehovah represented a grossly ignorant interpretation of the bible; the revelation of its monstrous character, represented in the hatred, slander, falsehood, meanness, and superstition, which jarvis represented as crows and vultures hovering near the preachers kicking paine's dead body, necessarily destroyed the phantasm, whose pretended power was proved nothing more than that of certain men to injure a man who out-reasoned them. paine's fidelity to his unanswered argument was fatal to the consecrated phantasm. it was confessed to be ruling without reason, right, or humanity, like the king from whom "common sense," mainly, had freed america, and not by any "grace of god" at all, but through certain reverend lord norths and lord howes. paine's peaceful death, the benevolent distribution of his property by a will affirming his theism, represented a posthumous and potent conclusion to the "age of reason." paine had aimed to form in new york a society for religious inquiry, also a society of theophilan-thropy. the latter was formed, and his posthumous works first began to appear, shortly after his death, in an organ called _the theophilanthropist_. but his movement was too cosmopolitan to be contained in any local organization. "thomas paine," said president andrew jackson to judge hertell, "thomas paine needs no monument made by hands; he has erected a monument in the hearts of all lovers of liberty." the like may be said of his religion: theophilanthropy, under a hundred translations and forms, is now the fruitful branch of every religion and every sect. the real cultivators of skepticism,--those who ascribe to deity biblical barbarism, and the savagery of nature,--have had their day. the removal and mystery of paine's bones appear like some page of mosaic mythology.* an english caricature pictured cobbett seated on paine's coffin, in a boat named rights of man, rowed by negro slaves. * the bones of thomas paine were landed in liverpool november , . the monument contemplated by cobbett was never raised. there was much parliamentary and municipal excitement. a bolton town-crier was imprisoned nine weeks for proclaiming the arrival. in the bones passed with cobbett's effects into the hands of a receiver (west). the lord chancellor refusing to regard them as an asset, they were kept by an old day-laborer until , when they passed to b. tilley, bedford square, london, a furniture dealer. in the empty coffin was in possession of j. chennell, guildford. the silver plate bore the inscription "thomas paine, died june , , aged ." in , rev. r. ainslie (unitarian) told e. truelove that he owned "the skull and the right hand of thomas paine," but evaded subsequent inquiries. the removal caused excitement in america. of paine's gravestone the last fragment was preserved by his friends of the bayeaux family, and framed on their wall. in november, , the present marble monument at new rochelle was erected. "a singular coincidence [says dr. francis] led me to pay a visit to cobbett at his country seat, within a couple of miles of the city, on the island, on the very day that he had exhumed the bones of paine, and shipped them for england. i will here repeat the words which cobbett gave utterance to at the friendly interview our party had with him. 'i have just performed a duty, gentlemen, which has been too long delayed: you have neglected too long the remains of thomas paine. i have done myself the honor to disinter his bones. i have removed them from new rochelle. i have dug them up; they are now on their way to england. when i myself return, i shall cause them to speak the common sense of the great man; i shall gather together the people of liverpool and manchester in one assembly with those of london, and those bones will effect the reformation of england in church and state.'" mr. badeau, of new rochelle, remembers standing near cobbett's workmen while they were digging up the bones, about dawn. there is a legend that paine's little finger was left in america, a fable, perhaps, of his once small movement, now stronger than the loins of the bigotry that refused him a vote or a grave in the land he so greatly served. as to his bones, no man knows the place of their rest to this day. his principles rest not. his thoughts, untraceable like his dust, are blown about the world which he held in his heart. for a hundred years no human being has been born in the civilized world without some spiritual tincture from that heart whose every pulse was for humanity, whose last beat broke a fetter of fear, and fell on the throne of thrones. appendix a. the cobbett papers. in the autumn of william cobbett arrived in america. among the papers preserved by the family of thomas jefferson is a letter from cobbett, enclosing an introduction from mr. short, u. s. secretary of legation at paris. in this letter, dated at wilmington, delaware, november , , the young englishman writes: "ambitious to become the citizen of a free state i have left my native country, england, for america. i bring with me youth, a small family, a few useful literary talents, and that is all." cobbett had been married in the same year, on february th, and visited paris, perhaps with an intention of remaining, but becoming disgusted with the revolution he left for america. he had conceived a dislike of the french revolutionary leaders, among whom he included paine. he thus became an easy victim of the libellous life of paine, by george chalmers, which had not been reprinted in america, and reproduced the statements of that work in a brief biographical sketch published in philadelphia, . in later life cobbett became convinced that he had been deceived into giving fresh currency to a tissue of slanders. in the very year of this publication, afterwards much lamented, paine published in europe a work that filled cobbett with admiration. this was "the decline and fall of the english system of finance," which predicted the suspension of gold payments by the bank of england that followed the next year. the pamphlet became cobbett's text-book, and his _register_ was eloquent in paine's praise, the more earnestly, he confessed, because he had "been one of his most violent assailants." "old age having laid his hand upon this truly great man, this truly philosophical politician, at his expiring flambeau i lighted my taper." a sketch of thomas paine and some related papers of cobbett are generously confided to me by his daughter, eleanor cobbett, through her nephew, william cobbett, jr., of woodlands, near manchester, england. the public announcement ( ) by cobbett, then in america, of his intention to write a life-of paine, led to his negotiation with madame bonneville, who, with her husband, resided in new york. madame bonneville had been disposing of some of paine's manuscripts, such as that on "freemasonry," and the reply to bishop watson, printed in _the theophilanthropist_ ( ). she had also been preparing, with her husband's assistance, notes for a biography of paine, because of the "unjust efforts to tarnish the memory of mr. paine"; adding, "_et l'indignation ma fait prendre la plume_." cobbett agreed to give her a thousand dollars for the manuscript, which was to contain important letters from and to eminent men. she stated (september , ) her conditions, that it should be published in england, without any addition, and separate from any other writings. i suppose it was one or all of these conditions that caused the non-completion of the bargain. cobbett re-wrote the whole thing, and it is now all in his writing except a few passages by madame bonneville, which i indicate by brackets, and two or three by his son, j. p. cobbett. although madame bonneville gave some revision to cobbett's manuscript, most of the letters to be supplied are merely indicated. no trace of them exists among the cobbett papers. soon afterward the bonnevilles went to paris, where they kept a small book shop. nicolas died in . his biography in michaud's dictionary is annotated by the widow, and states that in she had begun to edit for publication the life and posthumous papers of thomas paine. from this it would appear that she had retained the manuscript, and the original letters. in madame bonneville emigrated to st. louis, where her son, the late general bonneville, lived. her catholicism became, i believe, devout with advancing years, and to that cause, probably also to a fear of reviving the old scandal cheetham had raised, may be due the suppression of the papers, with the result mentioned in the introduction to this work. she died in st. louis, october , , at the age of . probably william cobbett did not feel entitled to publish the manuscript obtained under such conditions, or he might have waited for the important documents that were never sent. he died in . the recollections are those of both m. and madame bonneville. the reader will find no difficulty in making out the parts that represent madame's personal knowledge and reminiscences, as cobbett has preserved her speech in the first person, and, with characteristic literary acumen, her expressions in such important points. his manuscript is perfect, and i have little editing to do beyond occasional correction of a date, supplying one or two letters indicated, which i have found, and omitting a few letters, extracts, etc., already printed in the body of this work, where unaccompanied by any comment or addition from either cobbett or the bonnevilles. at the time when this cobbett-bonneville sketch was written new york was still a provincial place. nicolas bonneville, as irving describes him, seated under trees at the battery, absorbed in his classics, might have been regarded with suspicion had it been known that his long separation from his family was due to detention by the police. madame bonneville is reserved on that point. the following incident, besides illustrating the characters of paine and bonneville, may suggest a cause for the rigor of bonneville's surveillance. in , while paine and bonneville were editing the _bien informe_, a "suspect" sought asylum with them. this was count barruel-beauvert, an author whose writings alone had caused his denunciation as a royalist. he had escaped from the terror, and now wandered back in disguise, a pauper count, who knew well the magnanimity of the two men whose protection he asked. he remained, as proof-reader, in the bonneville house for some time, safely; but when the conspiracy of fructidor (september , ) exasperated the republic against royalists, the count feared that he might be the means of compromising his benefactors, and disappeared. when the royalist conspiracy against bonaparte was discovered, barruel-beauvert was again hunted, and arrested ( ). his trial probably brought to the knowledge of the police his former sojourn with paine and bonneville. bonaparte sent by fouché a warning to paine that the eye of the police was upon him, and that "on the first complaint he would be sent to his own country, america." whether this, and the closer surveillance on bonneville, were connected with the count, who also suffered for a time, or whether due to their anti-slavery writings on domingo, remains conjectural. towards the close of life bonneville received a pension, which was continued to his widow. so much even a monarchy with an established church could do for a republican author, and a freethinker; for bonneville had published heresies like those of paine. thomas paine, a sketch of his life and character. [more exactly than any other author thomas paine delineates every circumstantial events, private or public in his writings; nevertheless, since many pretended histories of the life of t. p. have been published, tracing him back to the day of his]* birth, we shall shortly observe, that, as was never denied by himself, he was born at thetford, in the county of norfolk, england on the . january, in the year ; that his father joseph paine was a stay-maker, and by religion a quaker; that his mother was the daughter of a country attorney, and that she belonged to the church of england; but, it appears, that she also afterwards became a quaker; for these parents both belonged to the meeting in , as appears from a letter of the father to the son. * the bracketed words, madame bonneville's, are on a separate slip. an opening paragraph by cobbett is crossed out by her pen: "the early years of the life of a great man are of little consequence to the world. whether paine made stays or gauged barrels before he became a public character, is of no more importance to us than whether he was swaddled with woollen or with linen. it is the man, in conjunction with those labours which have produced so much effect in the world, whom we are to follow and contemplate. nevertheless, since many pretended histories of the life of paine have been published, etc." the above-mentioned histories relate (and the correctness of the statement has not been denied by him), that paine was educated at the free-school of thetford; that he left it in , when he was fifteen years of age, and then worked for some time with his father: that in a year afterwards, he went to london: that from london he went to dover: that about this time he was on the eve of becoming a sailor: that he afterwards did embark on board a privateer: that, between the years and he was a stay maker, an excise officer, a grocer, and an usher to a school; and that, during the period he was twice married, and separated by mutual consent, from his second wife.* * the dates given by cobbett from contemporary histories require revision by the light of the careful researches made by myself and others, as given at the beginning of this biography. in this year and in the month of september, paine sailed from england for philadelphia, where he arrived safe; and now we begin his history; for here we have him in connection with his literary labours. it being an essential part of our plan to let thomas paine speak in his own words, and explain himself the reason for his actions, whenever we find written papers in his own hand, though in incomplete notes or fragments, we shall insert such, in order to enable the reader to judge for himself, and to estimate the slightest circumstances. _sauvent d'un grand dessin un mot nous fait juger_. "a word often enables us to judge of a great design." "i happened to come to america a few months before the breaking out of hostilities. i found the disposition of the people such that they might have been led by a thread and governed by a reed. their suspicion was quick and penetrating, but their attachment to britain was obstinate, and it was at that time a kind of treason to speak against it. they disliked the ministry, but they esteemed the nation. their idea of grievance operated without resentment, and their single object was reconciliation. bad as i believed the ministry to be, i never conceived them capable of a measure so rash and wicked as the commencing of hostilities; much less did i imagine the nation would encourage it. i viewed the dispute as a kind of law-suit, in which i supposed the parties would find a way either to decide or settle it. i had no thoughts of independence or of arms. the world could not then have persuaded me that i should be either a soldier or an author. if i had any talents for either they were buried in me, and might ever have continued so had not the necessity of the times dragged and driven them into action. i had formed my plan of life, and conceiving myself happy wished everybody else so. but when the country, into which i had just set my foot, was set on fire about my ears, it was time to stir. it was time for every man to stir."* * from crisis vii., dated philadelphia, november , . in cobbett's ms. the extract is only indicated. his first intention at philadelphia was to establish an academy for young ladies, who were to be taught many branches of learning then little known in the education of young american ladies. but, in , he undertook the management of the pennsylvania magazine. about this time he published, in bradford's journal, an essay on the slavery, of the negroes, which was universally well received; and also stanzas on the death of general wolfe. in , january , he published common sense. in the same year he joined the army as aid-de-camp to general greene. gordon, in his history of the independence of the united states (vol. ii. p. ), says: [wanting]--ramsay (lond. ed. i. p. ) says: [wanting!] anecdote of dr. franklin preserved by thomas paine: [wanting, but no doubt one else-where given, in the hall manuscripts] when washington had made his retreat from new york thomas paine published the first number of the crisis, which was read to every corporal's guard in the camp. it revived the army, reunited the members of the [new york] convention, when despair had reduced them to nine in number, while the militia were abandoning their standards and flying in all directions. the success of the army at trenton was, in some degree, owing to this first number of the crisis. in he discovered the robberies of silas deane, an agent of the united states in france. he gave in his resignation as secretary, which was accepted by the congress. in he was appointed-clerk to the general assembly of pennsylvania, which office he retained until . in he departed for france with col. john laurens, commissioned especially by the congress to the court at versailles to obtain the aid that was wanted. (see gordon's hist., v. iii., p. .) after his return from france he received the following letter from col. laurens: "carolina, april , .--i received the letter wherein you mention my horse and trunk, (the latter of which was left at providence). the misery which the former has suffered at different times, by mismanagement, has greatly distressed me. he was wounded in service, and i am much attached to him. if he can be of any service to you, i entreat your acceptance of him, more especially if you will make use of him in bringing you to a country (carolina) where you will be received with open arms, and all that affection and respect which our citizens are anxious to testify to the author of common sense, and the crisis. "adieu! i wish you to regard this part of america (carolina) as your particular home--and everything that i can command in it to be in common between us." on the th of april, , the definitive treaty of peace was received and published. here insert the letter from gen. nathaniel greene: "ashley-rives (carolina), nov. , .--many people wish to get you into this country. "i see you are determined to follow your genius and not your fortune. i have always been in hopes that congress would have made some handsome acknowledgement to you for past services. i must confess that i think you have been shamefully neglected; and that america is indebted to few characters more than to you. but as your passion leads to fame, and not to wealth, your mortification will be the less. your fame for your writings, will be immortal. at present my expenses are great; nevertheless, if you are not conveniently situated, i shall take a pride and pleasure in contributing all in my power to render your situation happy."' then letter from his father.--"dear son, &c." [lost.] the following letter from william livingston (trenton, november, ) will show that thomas paine was not only honored with the esteem of the most famous persons, but that they were all convinced that he had been useful to the country.** at this time thomas paine was living with colonel kirk-bride, bordentown, where he remained till his departure for france. he had bought a house [in], and five acres of marshy land over against, bordentown, near the delaware, which overflowed it frequently. he sold the land in . congress gave an order for three thousand dollars, which thomas paine received in the same month. early in he departed for france. he carried with him the model of a bridge of his own invention and construction, which he submitted, in a drawing, to the french academy, by whom it was approved. from paris he went to london on the september ; and in the same month he went to thetford, where he found his father was dead, from the small-pox; and where he settled an allowance on his mother of shillings a week. * this and the preceding letter supplied by the author. * not found. referred to in this work, vol. i., p. . a part of he passed in rotherham, in yorkshire, where his bridge was cast and erected, chiefly at the expense of the ingenious mr. walker. the experiment, however, cost thomas paine a considerable sum. when burke published his _reflexions on the french revolution_, thomas paine answered him in his first part of the rights of man. in january, , appeared the second part of the rights of man. the sale of the rights of man was prodigious, amounting in the course of one year to about a hundred thousand copies. in he was prosecuted for his rights of man by the attorney general, mcdonald, and was defended by mr. erskine, and found guilty of libel. but he was now in france, and could not be brought up for judgment. each district of france sent electors to the principal seat of the department, where the deputies to the national assembly were chosen. two departments appointed thomas paine their deputy, those of oise and of pas de calais, of which he accepted the latter. he received the following letter from the president of the national assembly, hérault de séchelles: "to thomas paine: "france calls you, sir, to its bosom, to perform one of the most useful and most honorable functions, that of contributing, by wise legislation, to the happiness of a people, whose destinies interest all who think and are united with the welfare of all who suffer in the world. "it becomes the nation that has proclaimed the rights of many to desire among her legislators him who first dared to estimate the consequences of those rights, and who has developed their principles with that common senset which is the only genius inwardly felt by all men, and the conception of which springs forth from nature and truth. "the national assembly gave you the title of citizen, and had seen with pleasure that its decree was sanctioned by the only legitimate authority, that of the people, who had already claimed you, even before you were nominated. "come, sir, and enjoy in france the most interesting of scenes for an observer and a philosopher,--that of a confiding and generous people who, infamously betrayed for three years, and wishing at last to end the struggle between slavery and liberty, between sincerity and perfidy, at length arises in its resolute and gigantic force, gives up to the sword of the law those guilty crowned things who betrayed them, resists the barbarians whom they raised up to destroy the nation. her citizens turned soldiers, her territory into camp and fortress, she yet calls and collects in congress the lights scattered through the universe. men of genius, the most capable for their wisdom and virtue, she now calls to give to her people a government the most proper to insure their liberty and happiness. "the electoral assembly of the department of oise, anxious to be the first to elect you, has been so fortunate as to insure to itself that honour; and when many of my fellow citizens desired me to inform you of your election, i remembered, with infinite pleasure, having seen you at mr. jefferson's, and i congratulated myself on having had the pleasure of knowing you. "hérault, "president of the national assembly." at the trial of louis xvi. before the national convention thomas paine at the tribune, with the deputy bancal for translator and interpreter, gave his opinion, written, on the capital sentence on louis:--that, though a deputy of the national convention of france, he could not forget, that, previous to his being that, he was a citizen of the united states of america, which owed their liberty to louis, and that gratitude would not allow him to vote for the death of the benefactor of america. on the st of january, , louis xvi was beheaded in the square of louis xv. (letter to marat.) thomas paine was named by the assembly as one of the committee of legislation, and, as he could not discuss article by article without the aid of an interpreter, he drew out a plan of a constitution.** * both missing. possibly the second should be to danton. see ii., p. . ** see ii., p. sec., of this work. the reign of terror began on the night of the th of march! , when the greatest number and the best part of the real friends to freedom had retired [from the convention]. but, as the intention of the conspiracy against the assembly had been suspected, as the greatest part of the deputies they wished to sacrifice had been informed of the threatening danger, as, moreover, a mutual fear [existed] of the cunning tyranny of some usurper, the conspirators, alarmed, could not this night consummate their horrible machinations. they therefore, for this time, confined themselves to single degrees of accusation and arrestation against the most valuable part of the national convention. robespiere had placed himself at the head of a conspiring common-hall, which dared to dictate _laws of blood_ and proscription to the convention. all those whom he could not make bend under a dictatorship, which a certain number of anti-revolutionists feigned to grant him, as a tool which they could destroy at pleasure, were guilty of being suspected, and secretly destined to disappear from among the living. thomas paine, as his marked enemy and rival, by favour of the decree on the suspected was classed among the suspected, and, as a foreigner, was imprisoned in the luxembourg in december . (see letter to washington.) ¦ from this document it will be seen, that, while in the prison, he was, for a month, afflicted with an illness that deprived him of his memory. it was during this illness of thomas paine that the fall of robespierre took place. mr. monroe, who arrived at paris some days afterwards, wrote to mr. paine, assuring him of his friendship, as appears from the letter to washington. fifteen days afterwards thomas paine received a letter from peter whiteside.** in consequence of this letter thomas paine wrote a memorial to mr. monroe. mr. monroe now claimed thomas paine, and he _came out of the prison on the th of november, , after ten months of imprisonment_. he went to live with mr. monroe, who had cordially offered him his house. in a short time after, the convention called him to take his seat in that assembly; which he did, for the reasons he alleges in his letter to washington. the following two pieces thomas paine wrote while in prison: "essay on aristocracy." "essay on the character of robespierre." [both missing.] * this is the bitter letter of which when it appeared cobbett had written such a scathing review. ** the letter telling him of the allegations made by some against his american citizenship. thomas paine received the following letter from madame lafayette, whose husband was then a prisoner of war in austria: " brumaire, paris.--i was this morning so much agitated by the kind visit from mr. monroe, that i could hardly find words to speak; but, however, i was, my dear sir, desirous to tell you, that the news of your being set at liberty, which i this morning learnt from general kilmaine, who arrived here at the same time with me, has given me a moment's consolation in the midst of this abyss of misery, where i shall all my life remain plunged. gen. kilmaine has told me that you recollected me, and have taken great interest in my situation; for which i am exceedingly grateful. "accept, along with mr. monroe, my congratulations upon your being restored to each other, and the assurances of these sentiments from her who is proud to proclaim them, and who well deserved the title of citizen of that second country, though i have assuredly never failed, nor shall ever fail, to the former. salut and friendship. "with all sincerity of my heart, "n. lafayette." on the january, , thomas paine published in paris, the first part of the "age of reason." seeing the state of things in america, thomas paine wrote a letter to gen. washington february . mr. monroe entreated him not to send it, and, accordingly it was not sent to washington; but it was afterwards published. a few months after his going out of prison, he had a violent fever. mrs. monroe showed him all possible kindness and attention. she provided him with an excellent nurse, who had for him all the anxiety and assiduity of a sister. she neglected nothing to afford him ease and comfort, when he was totally unable to help himself. he was in the state of a helpless child who has its face and hands washed by its mother. the surgeon was the famous dessault, who cured him of an abscess which he had in his side. after the horrible brumaire, a friend of thomas paine being very sick, he, who was in the house, went to bring his own excellent nurse to take care of his sick friend: a fact of little account in itself, but a sure evidence of ardent and active friendship and kindness. the convention being occupied with a discussion of the question of what constitution ought to be adopted, that of or that of , thomas paine made a speech (july , ) as a member of the [original] committee [on the constitution] and lanthénas translated it and read it in the tribune. this speech has been translated into english, and published in london; but, the language of the author has been changed by the two translations. it is now given as written by the author. [missing.] in april, , he wrote his _decline and fail of the british system of finance _; and, on the th of july of that year he sent his letter to washington off for america by mr.-------- who sent it to mr. bâche, a newspaper printer of philadelphia, to be published, and it was published the same year. the name of the gentleman who conveyed the letter, and who wrote the following to thomas paine, is not essential and therefore we suppress it. [missing.] we here insert a letter from talleyrand, the minister of foreign affairs, to show that thomas paine was always active and attentive in doing every thing which would be useful to america. [missing.] thomas paine after he came out of prison and had reentered the convention wrote the following letter. [missing.] the following is essentially connected with the foregoing: "paris, october , ." [missing.] in october, , thomas paine published the second fart of the age of reason. this year mr. monroe departed from france, and soon after thomas paine went to havre de grace, to embark for the united states. but, he did not, upon inquiry, think it prudent to go, on account of the great number of english vessels then cruizing in the channel. he therefore came back to paris; but, while at havre, wrote the following letter, april , to a friend at paris. [missing.] the following letter will not, we hope, seem indifferent to the reader: "dear sir, i wrote to you etc." [missing.] at this time it was that thomas paine took up his abode at mr. bonneville's, who had known him at the minister roland's, and as mr. b. spoke english, thomas paine addressed himself to him in a more familiar and friendly manner than to any other persons of the society. it was a reception of hospitality which was here given to thomas paine for a week or a fortnight; but, the visit lasted till , when he and mr. bonneville parted,--alas never to meet again! our house was at no. rue du theatre françois. all the first floor was occupied as a printing office. the whole house was pretty well filled; and mr. bonneville gave up his study, which was not a large one, and a bed-chamber to thomas paine. he was always in his apartments excepting at meal times. he rose late. he then used to read the newspapers, from which, though he understood but little of the french language when spoken, he did not fail to collect all the material information relating to politics, in which subject he took most delight. when he had his morning's reading, he used to carry back the journals to mr. bonneville, and they had a chat upon the topicks of the day. if he had a short jaunt to take, as for instance, to puteaux just by the bridge of neuilly, where mr. skipwith lived, he always went on foot, after suitable preparations for the journey in that way. i do not believe he ever hired a coach to go out on pleasure during the whole of his stay in paris. he laughed at those who, depriving themselves of a wholesome exercise, could make no other excuse for the want of it than that they were able to take it whenever they pleased. he was never idle in the house. if not writing he was busily employed on some mechanical invention, or else entertaining his visitors. not a day escaped without his receiving many visits. mr. barlow, mr. fulton, mr. smith [sir robert] came very often to see him. many travellers also called on him; and, often, having no other affair, talked to him only of his great reputation and their admiration of his works. he treated such visitors with civility, but with little ceremony, and, when their conversation was mere chit-chat, and he found they had nothing particular to say to him, he used to retire to his own pursuits, leaving them to entertain themselves with their own ideas. he sometimes spent his evenings at mr. barlow's, where mr. fulton lived, or at mr. smith's [sir robert], and sometimes at an irish coffee-house in condé street, where irish, english, and american people met. he here learnt the state of politics in england and america. he never went out after dinner without first taking a nap, which was always of two or three hours length. and, when he went out to a dinner of _parade_, he often came home for the purpose of taking his accustomed sleep. it was seldom he went into the society of french people; except when, by seeing some one in office or power, he could obtain some favour for his countrymen who might be in need of his good offices. these he always performed with pleasure, and he never failed to adopt the most likely means to secure success. but in one instance he failed. he wrote as follows to lord cornwallis; but, he did not save napper tandy. letter to lord cornwallis. letter brumaire, year. letter germinal year. [the three letters missing.] c. jourdan made a report to the convention on the re-establishment of bells, which had been suppressed, and, in great part melted. paine published, on this occasion, a letter to c. jourdan.* * the words "which will find a place in the appendix" are here crossed out by madame bonneville. see ii., p. concerning jourdan. he had brought with him from america, as we have seen, a model of a bridge of his own construction and invention, which model had been adopted in england for building bridges under his own direction. he employed part of his time, while at our house, in bringing this model to high perfection, and this accomplished to his wishes. he afterwards, and according the model, made a bridge of lead, which he accomplished b/ moulding different blocks of lead, which, when joined together, made the form that he required. this was most pleasant amusement for him. though he fully relied on the strength of his new bridge, and would produce arguments enough in proof of its infallible strength, he often demonstrated the proof by blows of the sledge-hammer, not leaving anyone in doubt on the subject. one night he took off the scaffold of his bridge and seeing that it stood firm under the repeated strokes of hammer, he was so ravished that an enjoyment so great was not to be sufficiently felt if confined to his own bosom. he was not satisfied without admirers of his success. one night we had just gone to bed, and were surprised at hearing repeated strokes of the hammer. paine went into mr. bonneville's room and besought him to go and see his bridge: come and look, said he, it bears all my blows and stands like a rock. mr. bonneville arose, as well to please himself by seeing a happy man as to please him by looking at his bridge. nothing would do, unless i saw the sight as well as mr. bonneville. after much exultation: "nothing, in the world," said he, "is so fine as my bridge"; and, seeing me standing by without uttering a word, he added, "except a woman!" which happy compliment to the sex he seemed to think, a full compensation for the trouble caused by this nocturnal visit to the bridge. a machine for planing boards was his next invention, which machine he had executed partly by one blacksmith and partly by another. the machine being put together by him, he placed it on the floor, and with it planed boards to any number that he required, to make some models of wheels. mr. bonneville has two of these wheels now. there is a specification of the wheels, given by mr. paine himself. this specification, together with a drawing of the model, made by mr. fulton, were deposited at washington, in february ; and the other documents necessary to obtain a patent as an invention of thomas paine, for the benefit of madam bonneville. to be presented to the directory of france, a memorial on the progress and construction of iron bridges. on this subject the two pieces here subjoined will throw sufficient light. (memoir upon bridges.--upon iron bridges.--to the directory.--memoir on the progress and construction &c.) preparations were made, real or simulated, for a descent upon england. thomas paine was consulted by b. . who was then in the house of talma, and he wrote the following notes and instructions. letter at brussells.--the Ça-ira of america.--to the consul lépeaux.* * this paragraph is in the writing of madame bonneville. "b. ." means bonaparte, and seems to be some cipher. all of the pieces by paine mentioned are missing; also that addressed "to the directory," for the answer to which see p. of this volume. chancellor livingston, after his arrival in france, came a few times to see paine. one morning we had him at breakfast, dupuis, the author of the origin of worship, being of the party; and mr. livingston, when he got up to go away, said to mr. paine smiling, "make your will; leave the mechanics, the iron bridge, the wheels, etc. to america, and your religion to france." thomas paine, while at our house, published in mr. bonneville's journal (the _bien informé_) several articles on passing events.* * the following words are here crossed out: "also several pieces of poetry, which will be published hereafter, with his miscellaneous prose." a few days before his departure for america, he said, at mr. smith's [sir robert] that he had nothing to detain him in france; for that he was neither in love, debt, nor difficulty. some lady observed, that it was not, in the company of ladies, gallant to say he was not in love. upon this occasion he wrote the new covenant, from the castle in the air to the little corner of the world, in three stanzas, and sent it with the following words: "as the ladies are better judges of gallantry than the men are, i will thank you to tell me, whether the enclosed be gallantry. if it be, it is truly original; and the merit of it belongs to the person who inspired it." the following was the answer of mrs. smith. "if the usual style of gallantry was as clever as your new covenant, many a fair ladies heart would be in danger, but the little corner of the world receives it from the castle in the air; it is agreeable to her as being the elegant fancy of a friend.--c. smith." [stanzas missing.'] at this time, , public spirit was at end in france. the real republicans were harrassed by eternal prosecutions. paine was a truly grateful man: his friendship was active and warm, and steady. during the six years that he lived in our house, he frequently pressed us to go to america, offering us all that he should be able to do for us, and saying that he would bequeath his property to our children. some affairs of great consequence made it impracticable for mr. bonneville to quit france; but, foreseeing a new revolution, that would strike, personally, many of the republicans, it was resolved, soon after the departure of mr. paine for america, that i should go thither with my children, relying fully on the good offices of mr. paine, whose conduct in america justified that reliance. in paine left france, regretted by all who knew him. he embarked at havre de grace on board a stout ship, belonging to mr. patterson, of baltimore, he being the only passenger. after a very stormy passage, he landed at baltimore on the th of october, . he remained there but a few days, and then went to washington, where he published his letters to the americans. a few months afterwards, he went to bordentown, to his friend col. kirkbride, who had invited him, on his return, by the following letter of november, . [missing.] he staid at bordentown about two months, and then went to new york, where a great number of patriots gave him a splendid dinner at the city hotel. in june, , he went to stonington, new england, to see some friends; and in the autumn he went to his farm at new rochelle. (the letter of thomas paine to mr. bonneville, nov., .) [missing.] an inhabitant of this village offered him an apartment, of which he accepted, and while here he was taken ill. his complaint was a sort of paralytic affection, which took away the use of his hands. he had had the same while at mr. monroe's in paris, after he was released from prison. being better, he went to his farm, where he remained a part of the winter, and he came to new york to spend the rest of it; but in the spring ( ) he went back to his farm. the farmer who had had his farm for or years, instead of paying his rent, brought mr. paine a bill for fencing, which made paine his debtor! they had a law-suit by which paine got nothing but the right of paying the law-expenses! this and other necessary expenses compelled him to sell sixty acres of his land. he then gave the honest farmer notice to quit the next april ( ). upon taking possession of the farm himself, he hired christopher derrick to cultivate it for him. he soon found that derrick was not fit for his place, and he, therefore, discharged him. this was in the summer; and, on christmas eve ensuing, about six o'clock, mr. paine being in his room, on the ground floor, reading, a gun was fired a few yards from the window. the contents of the gun struck the bottom part of the window, and all the charge, which was of small shot, lodged, as was next day discovered, in the window sill and wall. the shooter, in firing the gun, fell; and the barrel of the gun had entered the ground where he fell, and left an impression, which thomas paine observed the next morning. thomas paine went immediately to the house of a neighboring farmer, and there (seeing a gun, he took hold of it, and perceived that the muzzle of the gun was filled with fresh earth.) and then he heard that christopher derick had borrowed the gun about five o'clock the evening before, and had returned it again before six o'clock the same evening. derick was arrested, and purdy, his brother farmer, became immediately and voluntarily his bail. the cause was brought forward at new rochelle; and derick was acquitted.* * see p. of this volume. several paragraphs here are in the writing of j. p. cobbett, then with his father in new york. in thomas paine offered to vote at new rochelle for the election. but his vote was not admitted; on the pretence only of his not being a citizen of america; whereon he wrote the following letters. [_the letters are here missing, but no doubt the same as those on pp. - of this volume_..] this case was pleaded before the supreme court of new york by mr. riker, then attorney general, and, though paine lost his cause, i as his legatee, did not lose the having to pay for it. it is however, an undoubted fact, that mr. paine was an american citizen. he remained at new rochelle till june ; till disgust of every kind, occasioned by the gross and brutal conduct of some of the people there, made him resolve to go and live at new york. on the th of april, , he wrote the following letter to mr. bonneville [in paris]: "my dear bonneville: why don't you come to america your wife and two boys, benjamin and thomas, are here, and in good health. they all speak english very well; but thomas has forgot his french. i intend to provide for the boys, but, i wish to see you here. we heard of you by letters by madget and captain hailey. mrs. bonneville, and mrs. thomas, an english woman, keep an academy for young ladies. "i send this by a friend, mrs. champlin, who will call on mercier at the institute, to know where you are. your affectionate friend." and some time after the following letter: "my dear bonneville: i received your letter by mrs. champlin, and also the letter for mrs. bonneville, and one from her sister. i have written to the american minister in paris, mr. armstrong, desiring him to interest himself to have your surveillance taken off on condition of your coming to join your family in the united states. "this letter, with mrs. bonneville's, come to you under cover to the american minister from mr. madison, secretary of state. as soon as you receive it i advise you to call on general armstrong and inform him of the proper method to have your surveillance taken off. mr. champagny, who succeeds talleyrand, is, i suppose, the same who was minister of the interior, from whom i received a handsome friendly letter, respecting the iron bridge. i think you once went with me to see him. "call on mr skipwith with my compliments. he will inform you what vessels will sail for new york and where from. bordeaux will be the best place to sail from. i believe mr. lee is american consul at bordeaux. when you arrive there, call on him, with my compliments. you may contrive to arrive at new york in april or may. the passages, in the spring, are generally short; seldom more than five weeks, and often less. "present my respects to mercier, bernardin st. pierre, dupuis, grégoire.--when you come, i intend publishing all my works, and those i have yet in manuscript, by subscription. they will make or vol. °, or vol. °, about pages each. yours in friendship.--t. p."* * this letter is entirely in the writing of madame bonneville. beneath it is written: "the above is a true copy of the original; i have compared the two together. james p. cobbett." the allusion to champagny is either a slip of madame's pen or paine's memory. the minister who wrote him about his bridge was chaptal. see ii., p. . the names in the last paragraph show what an attractive literary circle paine had left in france, for a country unable to appreciate him. while paine was one day taking his usual after-dinner nap, an old woman called, and, asking for mr. paine, said she had something of great importance to communicate to him. she was shown into his bed-chamber; and paine, raising himself on his elbow, and turning towards the woman, said: "what do you want with me?" "i came," said she, "from god, to tell you, that if you don't repent, and believe in christ, you 'll be dammed." "poh, poh, it's not true," said paine; "you are not sent with such an impertinent message. send her away. pshaw! god would not send such a foolish ugly old woman as you. turn this messenger out. get away; be off: shut the door." and so the old woman packed herself off. after his arrival paine published several articles in the newspapers of new york and philadelphia. subsequent to a short illness which he had in , he could not walk without pain, and the difficulty of walking increased every day. on the st of january, , he addressed a memorial to the congress of the united states, asking remuneration for his services; and, on the th of february, the same year, another on the same subject. these documents and his letter to the speaker are as follows.* * "are as follows" in madame b.'s writing, after striking oat cobbett's words, "will be found in the appendix." the documents and letters are not given, but they are well known. see ii., p. . the committee of claims, to which the memorial had been submitted, passed the following resolution: "resolved, that thomas paine has leave to withdraw his memorial and the papers accompanying the same." he was deeply grieved at this refusal; some have blamed him for exposing himself to it. but, it should be recollected, that his expenses were greatly augmented by his illness, and he saw his means daily diminish, while he feared a total palsy; and while he expected to live to a very great age, as his ancestors had before him. his money yielded no interest, always having been unwilling to place money out in that way. he had made his will in , during the short illness already noticed. but three months later, he assembled his friends, and read to them another will; saying that he had believed such and such one to be his friend, and that now having altered his belief in them, he had also altered his will. from motives of the same kind, he, three months before his death, made another will, which he sealed up and directed to me, and gave it me to keep, observing to me, that i was more interested in it than any body else. he wished to be buried in the quaker burying ground, and sent for a member of the committee [willett hicks] who lived in the neighborhood. the interview took place on the th of march, . paine said, when we were looking out for another lodging, we had to put in order the affairs of our present abode. this was precisely the case with him; all his affairs were settled, and he had only to provide his burying-ground; his father had been a quaker, and he hoped they would not refuse him a grave; "i will," added he, "pay for the digging of it." the committee of the quakers refused to receive his body, at which he seemed deeply moved, and observed to me, who was present at the interview, that their refusal was foolish. "you will," said i, "be buried on your farm" "i have no objection to that," said he "but the farm will be sold, and they will dig my bones up before they be half rotten." "mr. paine," i replied, "have confidence in your friends. i assure you, that the place where you will be buried, shall never be sold." he seemed satisfied; and never spoke upon this subject again. i have been as good as my word. last december ( ) the land of the farm having been divided between my children, i gave fifty dollars to keep apart and to myself, the place whereon the grave was. paine, doubtless, considered me and my children as strangers in america. his affection for us was, at any rate, great and sincere. he anxiously recommended us to the protection of mr. emmet, saying to him, "when i am dead, madam bonneville will have no friend here." and a little time after, obliged to draw money from the bank, he said, with an air of sorrow, "you will have nothing left."* * paine's will appoints thomas addis emmet, walter morton (with $ each), and madame bonneville executors; gives a small bequest to the widow of elihu palmer, and a considerable one to rickman of london, who was to divide with nicholas bonneville proceeds of the sale of the north part of his farm. to madame bonneville went his manuscripts, movable effects, stock in the n. y. phoenix insurance company estimated at $ , and money in hand. the south part of the new rochelle farm, over acres, were given madame bonneville in trust for her children, benjamin and thomas, "their education and maintenance, until they come to the age of twenty-one years, in order that she may bring them well up, give them good and useful learning, and instruct them in their duty to god, and the practice of morality." at majority they were to share and share alike in fee simple. he desires to be buried in the quaker ground,--"my father belonged to that profession, and i was partly brought up in it,"--but if this is not permitted, to be buried on his farm. "the place where i am to be buried to be a square of twelve feet, to be enclosed with rows of trees, and a stone or post and railed fence, with a head-stone with my name and age engraved upon it, author of "common sense." he confides mrs. bonneville and her children to the care of emmet and morton. "thus placing confidence in their friendship, i herewith take my final leave of them and of the world. i have lived an honest and useful life to mankind; my time has been spent in doing good; and i die in perfect composure and resignation to the will of my creator god." the will, dated january , opens with the words, "the last will and testament of me, the subscriber, thomas paine, reposing confidence in my creator god, and in no other being, for i know of no other, and i believe in no other." mrs. paine had died july th, . mr. william fayel, to whom i am indebted for much information concerning the bonnevilles in st. louis, writes me that so little is known of paine's benefactions, that "an ex-senator of the united states recently asserted that gen. bonneville was brought over by jefferson and a french lady; and a french lady, who was intimate with the bonnevilles, assured me that general bonneville was sent to west point by lafayette." he was now become extremely weak. his strength and appetite daily departed from him; and in the day-time only he was able, when not in bed, to sit up in his arm-chair to read the newspapers, and sometimes write. when he could no longer quit his bed, he made some one read the newspapers to him. his mind was always active. he wrote nothing for the press after writing his last will, but he would converse, and took great interest in politics. the vigour of his mind, which had always so strongly characterized him, did not leave him to the last moment. he never complained of his bodily sufferings, though they became excessive. his constitution was strong. the want of exercise alone was the cause of his sufferings. notwithstanding the great inconveniences he was obliged to sustain during his illness, in a carman's house [ryder's] in a small village [greenwich], without any bosom friend in whom he could repose confidence, without any society he liked, he still did not complain of his sufferings. i indeed, went regularly to see him twice a week; but, he said to me one day: "i am here alone, for all these people are nothing to me, day after day, week after week, month after month, and you don't come to see me." in a conversation between him and mr. [albert] gallatin, about this time, i recollect his using these words: "_i am very sorry that i ever returned to this country_." as he was thus situated and paying a high price for his lodgings he expressed a wish to come to my house. this must be a great inconvenience to me from the frequent visits to mr. thomas paine; but, i, at last, consented; and hired a house in the neighborhood, in may , to which he was carried in an arm-chair, after which he seemed calm and satisfied, and gave himself no trouble about anything. he had no disease that required a doctor, though dr. romaine came to visit him twice a week. the swelling, which had commenced at his feet, had now reached his body, and some one had been so officious as to tell him that he ought to be tapped. he asked me if this was necessary. i told him, that i did not know; but, that, unless he was likely to derive great good from it, it should not be done. the next [day] doctor romaine came and brought a physician with him, and they resolved that the tapping need not take place. he now grew weaker and weaker very fast. a very few days before his death, dr. romame said to me, "i don't think he can live till night." paine, hearing some one speak, opens his eyes, and said: "'t is you doctor: what news?" "mr. such an one is gone to france on such business." "he will do nothing there," said paine. "your belly diminishes," said the doctor. "and yours augments," said paine. * the sentence thus far is struck out by madame bonno he had not seen for a long while. he was overjoyed at seeing him; but, this person began to speak upon religion, and paine turned his head on the other side, and remained silent, even to the adieu of the person. when he was near his end, two american clergymen came to see him, and to talk with him on religious matters. "let me alone," said he; "good morning." he desired they should be admitted no more. one of his friends came to new york; a person for whom he had a great esteem, and whom seeing his end fast approaching, i asked him, in presence of a friend, if he felt satisfied with the treatment he had received at our house, upon which he could only exclaim, o! yes! he added other words, but they were incoherent it was impossible for me not to exert myself to the utmost in taking care of a person to whom i and my children owed so much. he now appeared to have lost all kind of feeling. he spent the night in tranquillity, and expired in the morning at eight o'clock, after a short oppression, at my house in greenwich, about two miles from the city of new york. mr. jarvis, a painter, who had formerly made a portrait of him, moulded his head in plaster, from which a bust was executed. he was, according to the american custom, deposited in a mahogany coffin, with his name and age engraved on a silver-plate, put on the coffin. his corpse was dressed in a shirt, a muslin gown tied at neck and wrists with black ribbon, stockings, drawers; and a cap was put under his head as a pillow. (he never slept in a night-cap.) before the coffin was placed on the carriage, i went to see him; and having a rose in my bosom, i took it out, and placed on his breast. death had not disfigured him. though very thin, his bones were not protuberant. he was not wrinkled, and had lost very little hair. his voice was very strong even to his last moments. he often exclaimed, oh, lord help me! an exclamation the involuntary effect of pain. he groaned deeply, and when a question was put to him, calling him by his name, he opened his eyes, as if waking from a dream. he never answered the question, but asked one himself; as, what is it o'clock, &c. on the ninth of june my son and i, and a few of thomas paine's friends, set off with the corpse to new rochelle, a place miles from new york. it was my intention to have him buried in the orchard of his own farm; but the farmer who lived there at that time said, that thomas paine, walking with him one day, said, pointing to another part of the land, he was desirous of being buried there. "then," said i, "that shall be the place of his burial." and, my instructions were accordingly put in execution. the head-stone was put up about a week afterwards with the following inscription: "thomas paine, author of "common sense," died the eighth of june, , aged years." according to his will, a wall twelve feet square was erected round his tomb. four trees have been planted outside the wall, two weeping willows and two cypresses. many persons have taken away pieces of the tombstone and of the trees, in memory of the deceased; foreigners especially have been eager to obtain these memorials, some of which have been sent to england.* they have been put in frames and preserved. verses in honor of paine have been written on the head stone. the grave is situated at the angle of the farm, by the entrance to it. this interment was a scene to affect and to wound any sensible heart. contemplating who it was, what man it was, that we were committing to an obscure grave on an open and disregarded bit of land, i could not help feeling most acutely. before the earth was thrown down upon the coffin, i, placing myself at the east end of the grave, said to my son benjamin, "stand you there, at the other end, as a witness for grateful america." looking round me, and beholding the small group of spectators, i exclaimed, as the earth was tumbled into the grave, "oh! mr. paine! my son stands here as testimony of the gratitude of america, and i, for france!" this was the funeral ceremony of this great politician and philosopher!** * the breaking of the original gravestone has been traditionally ascribed to pious hatred. a fragment of it, now in new york, is sometimes shown at celebrations of paine's birthday as a witness of the ferocity vented on paine's grave. it is satisfactory to find another interpretation. ** paine's friends, as we have said, were too poor to leave their work in the city, which had refused paine a grave. the rev. robert bolton, in his history of westchester county, introduces cheetham's slanders of paine with the words: "as his own biographer remarks." his own! but even cheetham does not lie enough for bolton, who says: "his [paine's] body was brought up from new york in a hearse used for carrying the dead, to potter's field; a white man drove the vehicle, accompanied by a negro to dig the grave." the whole judas legend is in that allusion to potter's field. such is history, where paine is concerned! the eighty-eight acres of the north part were sold at dollars an acre. the half of the south (the share of thomas de bonneville) has been sold for the total sum of dollars. the other part of the south, which was left to benjamin de bonneville, has just ( ) been sold in lots, reserving the spot in which thomas paine was buried, being a piece of land feet square. _thomas paine's posthumous works_. he left the manuscript of his answer to bishop watson; the third part of his age of reason; several pieces on religious subjects, prose and verse. the great part of his posthumous political works will be found in the appendix. some correspondences cannot be, as yet, published.* in _mechanics_ he has left two models of wheels for carriages, and of a machine to plane boards. of the two models of bridges, left at the philadelphia museum, only one has been preserved, and that in great disorder, one side being taken entirely off. but, i must say here, that it was then out of the hands of mr. peale.' though it is difficult, at present, to make some people believe that, instead of being looked on as a deist and a drunkard, paine ought to be viewed as a philosopher and a truly benevolent man, future generations will make amends for the errors of their forefathers, by regarding him as a most worthy man, and by estimating his talents and character according to their real worth. thomas paine was about five feet nine inches high, english measure, and about five feet six french measure. his bust was well proportioned; and his face oblong. reflexion was the great expression of his face; in which was always seen the calm proceeding from a conscience void of reproach. his eye, which was black, was lively and piercing, and told us that he saw into the very heart of hearts [of any one who wished to deceive him].*** * all except the first two mss., of which fragments exist, and some poems, were no doubt consumed at st. louis, as stated in the introduction to this work. ** i have vainly searched in philadelphia for some relic of paine's bridges. *** bracketed words marked out. in this paragraph and some that follow the hand of nicolas bonneville is, i think, discernible. a most benignant smile expressed what he felt upon receiving an affectionate salutation, or praise delicately conveyed. his leg and foot were elegant, and he stood and walked upright, without stiffness or affectation. [he never wore a sword nor cane], but often walked with his hat in one hand and with his other hand behind his back. his countenance, when walking, was generally thoughtful. in receiving salutations he bowed very gracefully, and, if from an acquaintance, he did not begin with "how d' ye do?" but, with a "what news?" if they had none, he gave them his. his beard, his lips, his head, the motion of his eye-brow, all aided in developing his mind. was he where he got at the english or american newspapers, he hastened to over-run them all, like those who read to make extracts for their paper. his first glance was for the funds, which, in spite of jobbing and the tricks of government, he always looked on as the sure thermometer of public affairs. parliamentary debates, the bills, concealing a true or sham opposition of such or such orators, the secret pay and violent theatrical declamation, or the revelations of public or private meetings at the taverns; these interested him so much that he longed for an ear and a heart to pour forth all his soul. when he added that he knew the republican or the hypocrite, he would affirm, beforehand, that such or such a bill, such or such a measure, would take place; and very seldom, in such a case, the cunning politic or the clear-sighted observer was mistaken in his assertions; for they were not for him mere conjectures. he spoke of a future event as of a thing past and consummated. in a country where the slightest steps are expanded to open day, where the feeblest connexions are known from their beginning, and with all the views of ambition, of interest or rivalship, it is almost impossible to escape the eye of such an observer as thomas paine, whom no private interest could blind or bewitch, as was said by the clear-sighted michael montaigne. his writings are generally perspicuous and full of light, and often they discover the sardonic and sharp smile of voltaire. one may see that he wishes to wound to the quick; and that he hugs himself in his success. but voltaire all at once overruns an immense space and resumes his vehement and dramatic step: paine stops you, and points to the place where you ought to smile with him at the ingenious traits; a gift to envy and stupidity. thomas paine did not like to be questioned. he used to say, that he thought nothing more impertinent, than to say to any body: "what do you think of that?" on his arrival at new york, he went to see general gates. after the usual words of salutation, the general said: "i have always had it in mind, if i ever saw you again, to ask you whether you were married, as people have said." paine not answering, the general went on: "tell me how it is." "i never," said paine, "answer impertinent questions." seemingly insensible and hard to himself, he was not so to the just wailings of the unhappy. without any vehement expression of his sorrow, you might see him calling up all his powers, walking silently, thinking of the best means of consoling the unfortunate applicant; and never did they go from him without some rays of hope. and as his will was firm and settled, his efforts were always successful. the man hardened in vice and in courts [of law], yields more easily than one imagines to the manly entreaties of a disinterested benefactor. * at this point are the words: "barlow's letter [i. e. to cheetham] we agreed to suppress." thomas paine loved his friends with sincere and tender affection. his simplicity of heart and that happy kind of openness, or rather, carelessness, which charms our hearts in reading the fables of the good lafontaine, made him extremely amiable. if little children were near him he patted them, searched his pockets for the store of cakes, biscuits, sugarplums, pieces of sugar, of which he used to take possession as of a treasure belonging to them, and the distribution of which belonged to him.* his conversation was unaffectedly simple and frank; his language natural; always abounding in curious anecdotes. he justly and fully seized the characters of all those of whom he related any singular traits. for his conversation was satyrick, instructive, full of witticisms. if he related an anecdote a second time, it was always in the same words and the same tone, like a comic actor who knows the place where he is to be applauded. he neither cut the tale short nor told it too circumstantially. it was real conversation, enlivened by digressions well brought in. the vivacity of his mind, and the numerous scenes of which he had been a spectator, or in which he had been an actor, rendered his narrations the more animated, his conversation more endearing. his memory was admirable. politics were his favorite subject he never spoke on religious subjects, unless pressed to it, and never disputed about such matters. he could not speak french: he could understand it tolerably well when spoken to him, and he understood it when on paper perfectly well. he never went to the theatre: never spoke on dramatic subjects. he rather delighted in ridiculing poetry. he did not like it: he said it was not a serious thing, but a sport of the mind, which often had not common sense. his common reading was the affairs of the day; not a single newspaper escaped him; not a political discussion: he knew how to strike while the iron was hot; and, as he was always on the watch, he was always ready to write. hence all his pamphlets have been popular and powerful. he wrote with composure and steadiness, as if under the guidance of a tutelary genius. if, for an instant, he stopped, it was always in the attitude of a man who listens. the saint jerome of raphael would give a perfect idea of his contemplative recollection, to listen to the voice from on high which makes itself heard in the heart. [it will be proper, i believe, to say here, that shortly after the death of thomas paine a book appeared, under the title of: the life of thomas paine, by cheethatn. in this libel my character was calumniated. i cited the author before the criminal court of new york, he was tried and in spite of all his man�uvres, he was found guilty.--m. b. de bonneville.] this last paragraph, in brackets, is in the writing of madame bonneville. i am indebted to mr. robert waters, of jersey city, a biographer of cobbett, for the suggestion, made through a friend, and so amply justified, that information concerning paine might be derived from the cobbett papers. appendix b. the hall manuscripts in , john hall, an able mechanician and admirable man, emigrated from leicester, england, to philadelphia, he carried letters to paine, who found him a man after his own heart i am indebted to his relatives, dr. dutton steele of philadelphia and the misses steele, for hall's journals, which extend over many years. it will be seen that the papers are of historical importance apart from their records concerning paine. hall's entries of his daily intercourse with paine, which he never dreamed would see the light, represent a portraiture such as has rarely been secured of any character in history. the extent already reached by this work compels me to omit much that would impress the reader with the excellent work of john hall himself, who largely advanced ironwork in new jersey, and whose grave at flemmington, surrounded by those of the relatives that followed him, and near the library and workshop he left, merits a noble monument. * letter. philadelphia, august , . "i went a day or two past with the captain and his lady to see the exhibition of patriotic paintings. paine the author of common sense is amongst them. he went from england (had been usher to a school) on board the same vessel that our captain [coltman] went in last time; their acquaintance then commenced and has continued ever since. he resides now in bordentown in the jerseys, and it is probable that i may see him before it be long as when he comes to town the captain says he is sure to call on him. it is supposed the various states have made his circumstances easy--general washington, said if they did not provide for him he would himself. i think his services were as useful as the sword." journal, . nov. th. received a letter from mr. pain by his boy, informing us of his coming this day. between and mr. pain, col. kerbright [kirkbride], and another gentleman came to our door in a waggon. th. at dinner mr. pain told us a tale of the indians, he being at a meeting of them with others to settle some affairs in . the doctor visited mr. pain. th. performed a trifling operation for mr. pain. d. a remark of mr. pain's--not to give a deciding opinion between two persons you are in friendship with, lest you lose one by it; whilst doing that between two persons, your supposed enemies, may make one your friend. th. this evening pulled mr. pain's boy a tooth out. dec, . with much pain drawd the board in at hanna's chamber window to work mr. pain's bridge on. i pinned more arches together which makes the whole . i sweat at it; mr. pain gives me some wine and water as i was very dry. past o'clock dr. hutchinson called in on mr. paine. [the december journal is mainly occupied with mention of paine's visitors franklin, gouverneur morris, dr. rush, tench francis, robert morris, rittenhouse, redman. a rubber of whist in which paine won is mentioned.] sunday jan. st . mr. paine went to dine with dr. franklin today; staid till after tea in the evening. they tried the burning of our candles by blowing a gentle current through them. it greatly improved the light. the draught of air is prevented by passing through a cold tube of tallow. the tin of the new lamp by internal reflections is heated and causes a constant current this is the doctor's conjecture. [concerning paine's candle see i., p. .] feb. th. mr. paine not returned. we sent to all the places we could suppose him to be at and no tidings of him. we became very unhappy fearing his political enemies should have shown him foul play. went to bed at o.c, and about o.c. a knocking at the door proves mr. paine. march th. before o'c a brother saint-maker came with a model of machine to drive boats against stream.* he had communicated his scheme to h. who had made alterations and a company had taken it and refused saint-maker partnership. he would fain have given it to mr. paine or me, but i a stranger refused and mr. paine had enough hobbys of his own. mr. paine pointed out a mode to simplify his apparatus greatly. he gave him s. to send him one of his maps. * hall calls inventions "saints." this saint-maker is john fitch, the "h." being henry of lancaster. this entry is of much interest. (see ii. p. .) the first steamer seems to have gone begging! april th. mr. paine asked me to go and see indian chiefs of sennaka nation, i gladly assented. they have an interpreter. mr. paine wished to see him and made himself known to him by past remembrance as common sense, and was introduced into the room, addressed them as "brothers" and shook hands cordially mr. paine treated them with s. bowl of punch. bordentown letter, may . colonel kirkbride is the gentleman in whose family i am. my patron [paine] is likewise a boarder and makes his home here i am diligently employed in saint making, now in iron that i had before finished in wood, with some improvements, but you may come and see what it is. letter, june . skepticism and credulity are as general here as elsewhere, for what i see. in this town is a quaker meeting and one of another class--i suppose of the baptist cast--and a person in town a tailor by trade that goes about a-soulmending on sundays to various places, as most necessary, or i suppose advantageous, to himself; for by one trade or the other he has built himself a very elegant frame house in this town. this man's way to heaven is somewhat different to the other. i am informed he makes publick dippings &c. my employer has _common sense enough_ to disbelieve most of the common systematic theories of divinity but does not seem to establish any for himself. the colonel [kirkbride] is as free as john coltman. [under date of new york, july st, hall writes an account of a journey with paine to morrisania, to visit gen. morris, and afterwards to the farm at new rochelle, of which he gives particulars already known to my reader.] letter of paine to john hall, at capt. coltman's, in letitia court, market st, between front and second st. philadelphia: "bordentown, sep. , .--old friend: in the first place i have settled with mr. gordon for the time he has been in the house--in the second i have put mrs. read who, you know has part of our house col. kirkbride's but is at this time at lancaster, in possession by putting part of her goods into it.* by this means we shall have room at our house (col. kirkbride) for carrying on our operations. as philadelphia is so injurious to your health and as apartments at wm. foulke's would not be convenient to you, we can now conveniently make room for you here. mrs. kirkbride mentioned this to me herself and it is by the choice of both her and col. k. that i write it to you. i wish you could come up to-morrow (sunday) and bring the iron with you. i shall be backward and forward between here and philadelphia pretty often until the elections are over, but we can make a beginning here and what more iron we may want we can get at the delaware works, and if you should want to go to mount hope you can more conveniently go from here than from philadelphia--thus you see i have done your business since i have been up. the enclosed letter is for mr. henry who is member for lancaster county. i do not know where he lodges, but if william will be so good as to give it to the door keeper or clerk of the assembly it will be safe. bring up the walnut strips with you. * mrs. read was thus transferred to paine's own house. her husband died next year and paine declined to receive any rent. your coming here will give an opportunity to joseph to get acquainted with col. k. who will very freely give any information in his power. compts. in the family. your friend and hbl. servt" undated letter of paine to john hall, in philadelphia: "fryday noon.--old friend: inclosed (as the man said by the horse) i send you the battau, as i wish to present it as neat and clean as can be done; i commit it to your care. the sooner it is got on board the vessel the better. i shall set off from here on monday and expect to be in new york on tuesday. i shall take all the tools that are here with me and wish you would take some with you, that if we should get on a working fit we may have some to work with. let me hear from you by the sunday's boat and send me the name of the vessel and captain you go with and what owners they belong to at new york, or what merchants they go to. i wrote to you by the last boat, and peter tells me he gave the letter to capt. haines, but joe says that he enquired for letters and was told there was none--wishing you an agreeable voyage and meeting at new york, i am your friend, and humble servant. present my compliments to capt. and mrs. coltman and william. col. and mrs. kirkbride's and polly's compt." note of hall, dated oct. ( ) "dashwood park, of captain roberts: on thursday morning early sept. th i took the stage wagon for trenton. jo had gone up by water the day before to a sale of land and a very capital iron works and nailing with a large corn mill. it was a fair sale there was a forge and rolling and slitting mill upon an extensive scale the man has failed--the works with about or acres of land were sold for £ currency. then was put up about acres of land and sold for £ currency and i believe a good bargain; and bought by a friend of mine called common sense--who i believe had no idea of purchasing it when he came there. he took jo to bordentown with him that night and they came to look at it the next day; then jo went into the jerseys to find a countryman named burges but was disappointed came back to bordentown and on saturday looked all over mr. paine's purchase along with him and believes it bought well worth money. nov. st mr. paine told us an anecdote of a french noble's applying to dr. franklin, as the americans had put away their king, and that nation having formerly chosen a king from normandy, he offered his service and wished him to lay his letter before congress. mr. paine observed that britain is the most expensive government in the world. she gives a king a million a year and falls down and worships him. i put on mr. paine's hose yesterday. last night he brought me in my room a pair of warm cloth overshoes as feel very comfortable this morning had a wooden pot stove stand betwixt my feet by mr. paine's desire and found it kept my feet warm. november . as soon as breakfast was over mounted button [paine's horse] and set off for philadelphia. i brought mr. paine $ in gold and silver. bordentown th, monday. day was devoted to rivetting the bars, and punching the upper bar for the bannisters [of the bridge]. mr. kirkbride and polly went to hear a david jones preach a rhodomontade sermon about the devil, mary magdalen, and against deists, etc. december . this day employed in raising and putting on the abutments again and fitting them. the smith made the nuts of screws to go easier. then set the ribs at proper distance, and after dinner i and jackaway [? ] put on some temporary pieces on the frame of wood to hold it straight, and when mr. pain came they then tied it on its wooden frame with strong cords. i then saw that it had bulged full on one side and hollow on the other. i told him of it, and he said it was done by me--i denied that and words rose high. i at length swore by god that it was straight when i left it, he replied as positively the contrary, and i think myself ill used in this affair. philadelphia. dec. nd. bridge packed and tied on the sled. we arrived in town about o.clock took our bags to capt coltmans, and then went down to dr. franklin's, and helped unload the bridge. mr. paine called on me; gave us an anecdote of dr. franklin. on mr. paine asking him of the value of any new european publication; he had not been informed of any of importance. there were some religious posthumous anecdotes of doctor johnson, of resolves he had made and broken though he had prayed for power and strength to keep them; which showed the doctor said that he had not much interest there. and such things had better be suppressed as nobody had anything to do betwixt god and man. december . went with glentworth to see the bridge at dr. franklin's. coming from thence met mr. pain and mr. rittenhouse; returned with them and helped move it for all three to stand upon, and then turned it to examine. mr. rittenhouse has no doubt of its strength and sufficiency for the schuylkill, but wished to know what quantity of iron [it would require,] as he seemed to think it too expensive. december . walk to the state house. the bank bill called but postponed until tomorrow. mr. pain's letter read, and leave given to exhibit the bridge at the state house to be viewed by the members. left the house and met mr. pain, who told me donnalson had been to see and [stand] upon his bridge, and admitted its strength and powers. then took a walk beyond vine street, and passed by the shop where the steamboat apparatus is. mr. pain at our house, and talking on the bank affair brought on a dispute between mr. pain and the captain [coltman] in which words were very high. a reflection from captain c. on publications in favour of the bank having lost them considerable, he [paine] instantly took that as a reflection on himself, and swore by g--d, let who would, it was a lie. i then left the room and went up stairs. they quarrelled a considerable time, but at length parted tolerably coolly. dinner being ready i went down; but the captain continued talking about politics and the bank, and what he thought the misconduct of mr. pain in his being out and in with the several parties. i endeavoured to excuse mr. pain in some things relating thereto, by saying it was good sense in changing his ground when any party was going wrong,--and that he seemed to delight in difficulties, in mechanics particularly, and was pleased in them. the captain grew warm, and said he knew now he could not eat his dinner. [here followed a sharp personal quarrel between hall and coltman.] in the evening mr. paine came in and wished me to be assisting in carrying the model to the state house. we went to dr. franklin's and fetched the bridge to the committee room. . jan. . our saint i have assisted in moving to the state house and there placed in their committee room, as by a letter addressed to this speaker they admitted. and by the desire of my patron (who is not an early riser) i attended to give any information to inquiries until he came. and then i was present when the assembly with their speaker inspected it and many other persons as philosophers, mechanics statesmen and even tailors. i observed their sentiments and opinions of it were as different as their features. the philosopher said it would add new light to the great utility. and the tailor (for it is an absolute truth) remarked it cut a pretty figure. it is yet to be laid (or by the by stand) before the council of state. then the philosophical society and all the other learned bodies in this city. and then to be canonised by an act of state which is solicited to incorporate a body of men to adopt and realise or brobdinag this our lilliputian handywork, that is now feet long on a scale of one to . and then will be added another to the world's present wonders. january . mr. pain called in and left me the intended act of assembly for a bridge company, who are to subscribe $ , / then are to be put in possession of the present bridge and premises to answer the interest of their money until they erect a new one; and after they have erected a new one, and the money arising from it amounts to more than pays interest, it is to become a fund to pay off the principal stockholders, and then the bridge to become free. mr. pain called in; i gave him my bill--told him i had charged one day's work and a pair of gloves. march th mr. paine's boy called on time to [inquire] of the money spent. mr. paine called this evening; told me of his being with dr. franklin and about the chess player, or automaton, and that the dr. had no idea of the mode of communication. mr. paine has had several visitors, as mr. jowel, rev. dr. logan, &c. sunday april th prepared to attend mr. paine up to bordentown. mr. paine's horse and chair came, mounted and drove through a barren sandy country arrived at bordentown at half past one-o'clock for dinner. this is the pleasantest situation i have seen in this country. trenton, april . sitting in the house saw a chair pass down the street with a red coat on, and going out after it believed it to be mr. paine, so followed him up to collins's, where he was enquiring where i boarded. i just then called to him, and went with him to whight's tavern, and there he paid me the money i had laid down for him. he is now going for england by way of france in the french packet which sails the th instant. he asked me to take a ride, and as the stage was not come in and he going the road i gladly took the opportunity, as i could return on meeting the stage. on the journey he told me of the committee's proceedings on bridges and sewers; anecdotes of dr. franklin, who had sent a letter by him to the president, or some person, to communicate to the society of civil architects, who superintend solely over bridges in france. the model is packed up to go with him. the doctor, though full of employ from the vice president being ill, and the numerous visitors on state business, and others that his fame justly procures him, could hardly be supposed to pay great attention to trifles; but as he considers mr. paine his adopted political son he would endeavor to write by him to his friends, though mr. paine did not press, for reasons above. in or days he sent him up to bordentown no less than a dozen letters to his acquaintance in france.--he told me many anecdotes of the doctor, relating to national and political concerns, and observations of many aged and sensible men of his acquaintance in that country. and the treaty that he the doctor made with the late king of prussia by adding an article that, should war ever break out, (though never a probability of it) commerce should be left free. the doctor said he showed it to the french minister, vergennes, who said it met his idea, and was such as he would make even with england, though he knew they would not,--they were so fond of robbing and plundering. and the doctor had gathered a hint from a du quesney that no nation could properly expect to gain by endeavoring to suppress his neighbor, for riches were to be gained from amongst the rich and not from poor neighbors; and a national reciprocity was as much necessary as a domestic one, or [inter] national trade as necessary to be free as amongst the people of a country. such and many more hints passed in riding or miles, until we met the stage. i then shook hands and wished him a good voyage and parted. letter from flemmington, n. j., may , , to john coltman, leicester, england: "friend john: tell that disbelieving sceptical infidel thy father that he has wounded my honor, what! bought the coat at a rag shop--does he think i would palm such a falsity both upon gray and green heads! did not i send you word it was general washington's. and does he think i shall slanderously brook such a slanderous indignity--no! i tell him the first ink that meanders from my pen, which shall be instantly on my setting foot on brittains isle, shall be to call him to account. i 'll haul out his callous leaden soul with its brother! "in the late revolution the provincial army lying near princeton new jersey one sunday general washington and common sense each in their chairs rode down there to meeting common sense put up his at a friend's one mrs. morgan's and pulling off his great coat put it in the care of a servant man, and as i remember he was of the pure irish extraction; he walked then to meeting and then slipped off with said great coat and some plate of mr. morgan. on their return they found what had been done in their absence and relating it to the general his answer was it was necessary to watch as well as pray--but told him he had two and would lend or give him one--and that is the coat i sent and the fact as related to me and others in public by said [common sense.] nor do i believe that rome or the whole romish church has a better attested miracle in her whole catalogue than the above--though i dont wish to deem it a miracle, nor do i believe there is any miracle upon record for these hundred years so true as that being general washington's great coat.--i, labouring hard for said common sense at bordentown, the said coat was hung up to keep snow out of the room. i often told him i should expect that for my pains, but he never would say i should; but having a chest there i took care and locked it up when i had finished my work, and sent it to you. so far are these historical facts--maybe sometime hence i may collect dates and periods to them--but why should they be disputed? has not the world adopted as true a-many affairs without date and of less moment than this, and even pay what is called a holy regard to them? "if you communicate this to your father and he feels a compunction for the above crime and will signify the same by letter, he will find i strictly adhere to the precepts of christianity and shall forgive.--if not------ "my best wishes to you all, "john hall." letter of paine, london, nov. , , to "mr. john hall, at mr. john coltman's, shambles lane, leicester, england." "my old friend: i am very happy to see a letter from you, and to hear that our friends on the other side the water are well. the bridge has been put up, but being on wood butments they yielded, and it is now taken down. the first rib as an experiment was erected between two steel furnaces which supported it firmly; it contained not quite three tons of iron, was ninety feet span, height of the arch five feet; it was loaded with six tons of iron, which remained upon it a twelve month. at present i am engaged on my political bridge. i shall bring out a new work (second part of the rights of man) soon after new year. it will produce something one way or other. i see the tide is yet the wrong way, but there is a change of sentiment beginning. i have so far got the ear of john bull that he will read what i write--which is more than ever was done before to the same extent. rights of man has had the greatest run of anything ever published in this country, at least of late years--almost sixteen thousand has gone off--and in ireland above forty thousand--besides the above numbers one thousand printed cheap are now gone to scotland by desire from some of the [friends] there. i have been applied to from birmingham for leave to print ten thousand copies, but i intend, after the next work has had its run among those who will have handsome printed books and fine paper, to print an hundred thousand copies of each work and distribute them at sixpence a-piece; but this i do not at present talk of, because it will alarm the wise mad folks at st. james's. i have received a letter from mr. jefferson who mentioned the great run it has had there. it has been attacked by john adams, who has brought an host about his ears from all parts of the continent. mr. jefferson has sent me twenty five different answers to adams who wrote under the signature of publicola. a letter is somewhere in the city for me from mr. laurens of s. carolina. i hope to receive it in a few days. i shall be glad at all times to see, or hear from you. write to me (under cover) to gordon, booksellers n: fleet street, before you leave leicester. how far is it from thence to rotherham? yours sincerely. "p. s. i have done you the compliment of answering your favor the inst. i rec'd. it which is more than i have done by any other--were i to ans. all the letters i receive--i should require half a dozen clerks." extracts from john hall's letters from london, england: london, january burke's publication has produced one way or other near different answers and publications. nothing of late ever has been so read as paine's answer. sometime shortly he will publish a second part of the rights of man. his first part was scrutinized by the privy council held on purpose and through fear of making him more popular deemed too contemptible for government notice. the sale of it for a day or two was rather retarded or not publickly disposed of until it was known by the printers that it would not be noticed by government. john hall to a friend in england: "london, nov. , . i dined yesterday with the revolution society at the london tavern. a very large company assembled and after dinner many truly noble and patriotic toasts were drank. the most prominent were--the rights of man--with times &c.--the revolution of france--the revolution of the world--may all the armies of tyrants learn the brunswick march--may the tree of liberty be planted in every tyrant city, and may it be an evergreen. the utmost unanimity prevailed through the company, and several very excellent songs in favor of liberty were sung. every bosom felt the divine glow of patriotism and love of universal freedom. i wish you had been there. for my part i was transported at the scene. it happened that a company of aristocratic french and spanish merchants were met in the very room under, and horne tooke got up and sarcastically requested the company not to wound the tender feelings of the gentlemen by too much festivity. this sarcasm was followed by such a burst of applause as i never before heard." from j. redman, london, tuesday dec. , p. m. to john hall, leicester, england: "mr. paine's trial is this instant over. erskine shone like the morning-star. johnson was there. the instant erskine closed his speech the venal jury interrupted the attorney general, who was about to make a reply, and without waiting for any answer, or any summing up by the judge, pronounced him guilty. such an instance of infernal corruption is scarcely upon record. i have not time to express my indignant feelings on this occasion. at this moment, while i write, the mob is drawing erskine's carriage home, he riding in triumph--his horses led by another party. riots at cambridge, manchester, bridport dorset &c. &c. o england, how art thou fallen! i am just now told that press warrants are issued today. february, make haste. mrs r's respects and mine. yours truly." [john hall's london journal ( ) records frequent meetings there with paine. "march . met mr. paine going to dress on an invitation to dine with the athenians. he leaves town for a few days to see his aunt." "april . mr. paine goes out of town tomorrow to compose what i call burke's funeral sermon." "aug. . mr. paine looking well and in high spirits." "sept. . mr. paine called in a short time. does not seem to talk much, rather on a reserve, of the prospect of political affairs. he had a letter from g. washington and jefferson by the ambassador [pinckney]." the majority of entries merely mention meeting paine, whose name, by the way, after the prosecution was instituted, hall prudently writes "p------n." he also tells the story of burke's pension.] "april , . had a ride to bordentown to see mr. paine at mr. kirkbride's. he was well and appeared jollyer than i had ever known him. he is full of whims and schemes and mechanical inventions, and is to build a place or shop to carry them into execution, and wants my help." appendix c. portraits of paine at the age of thirty paine was somewhat stout, and very athletic; but after his arrival in america ( ) he was rather slender. his height was five feet, nine inches. he had a prominent nose, somewhat like that of ralph waldo emerson. it may have impressed bonaparte, who insisted, it is said, that a marshal must have a large nose. paine's mouth was delicate, his chin also; he wore no whiskers or beard until too feeble with age to shave. his forehead was lofty and unfurrowed; his head long, the occiput feeble. his complexion was ruddy,--thoroughly english. charles lee, during the american revolution, described him as "the man who has genius in his eyes;" carlyle quotes from foster an observation on the brilliancy of paine's eyes, as he sat in the french convention. his figure, as given in an early french portrait, is shapely; its elegance was often remarked. a year or so after his return to america he is shown in a contemporary picture as somewhat stout again, if one may judge by the face. this was probably a result of insufficient exercise, on which he much depended. he was an expert horseman, and, in health, an unwearied walker. he loved music, and could join well in a chorus. there are eleven original portraits of thomas paine, besides a death-mask, a bust, and the profile copied in this work from a seal used on the release at lewes, elsewhere cited (i., p. ). that gives some idea of the head and face at the age of thirty-five. i have a picture said to be that of paine in his youth, but the dress is an anachronism. the earliest portrait of paine was painted by charles willson peale, in philadelphia, probably in some early year of the american revolution, for thomas brand hollis, of london,--the benefactor of harvard university, one of whose halls bears his name. the same artist painted another portrait of paine, now badly placed in independence hall. there must have been an early engraving from one of peale's pictures, for john hall writes october , : "a print of common sense, if any of my friends want one, may be had by sending to the printshops in london, but they have put a wrong name to it, his being thomas."* the hollis portrait was engraved in london, , underlined "by peel [sic] of philadelphia," and published, july th, by j. ridgway, york street, st. james's square. paine holds an open book bearing the words, "rights of man," where peale probably had "common sense." on a table with inkstand and pens rests paine's right elbow, the hand supporting his chin. the full face appears--young, handsome, gay; the wig is frizzed, a bit of the queue visible. in all of the original portraits of paine his dress is neat and in accordance with fashion, but in this hollis picture it is rather fine: the loose sleeves are ornamentally corded, and large wristbands of white lace fall on the cuffs. * this is puzzling. the only engraving i have found with "toia" was published in london in . can there be a portrait lost under some other name? while paine and jefferson were together in paris ( ) paine wrote him a note, august th, in which he says: "the second part of your letter, concerning taking my picture, i must feel as an honor done to me, not as a favor asked of me--but in this, as in other matters, i am at the disposal of your friendship." as jefferson does not appear to have possessed such a portrait, the request was probably made through him. i incline to identify this portrait with an extremely interesting one, now in this country, by an unknown artist. it is one of twelve symmetrical portraits of revolutionary leaders,--the others being marat, robespierre, lafayette, mirabeau, danton, brissot, pétion, camille desmoulins, billaud de varennes, gensonné, clermont tonnère. these pictures were reproduced in cheap woodcuts and distributed about france during the revolution. the originals were secured by col. lowry, of south carolina, and brought to charleston during the revolution. at the beginning of the civil war they were buried in leaden cases at williamstown, south carolina. at the end of the war they were conveyed to charleston, where they remained, in the possession of a mrs. cole, until purchased by their present owner, mr. alfred ames howlett, of syracuse, new york. as mirabeau is included, the series must have been begun at an early phase of the revolutionary agitation. the face of paine here strongly resembles that in independence hall. the picture is about two feet high; the whole figure is given, and is dressed in an elegant statesmanlike fashion, with fine cravat and silk stockings from the knee. the table and room indicate official position, but it is the same room as in nine of the other portraits. it is to be hoped that further light may be obtained concerning these portraits. well-dressed also, but notably unlike the preceding, is the "bonneville paine," one of a celebrated series of two hundred engraved portraits, the publication of which in quarto volumes was begun in paris in . "f. bonneville del. et sculpsit" is its whole history. paine is described in it as "ex député à la convention nationale," which would mean strictly some time between his expulsion from that assembly in december, , and his recall to it a year later. it could not, however, have been then taken, on account of paine's imprisonment and illness. it was probably made by f. bonneville when paine had gone to reside with nicolas bonneville in the spring of . it is an admirable picture in every way, but especially in bringing out the large and expressive eyes. the hair is here free and flowing; the dress identical with that of the portrait by jarvis in this work. the best-known picture of paine is that painted by his friend george romney, in . i have inquired through london _notes and queries_ after the original, which long ago disappeared, and a claimant turned up in birmingham, england; but in this the hand holds a book, and sharp's engraving shows no hand. the face was probably copied from the romney. the large engraving by w. sharp was published april , , and the smaller in . a reproduction by illman were a fit frontispiece for cheetham (what satirical things names are sometimes), but ought not to have got into gilbert vale's popular biography of paine. that and a reproduction by wright in the mendum edition of paine's works, have spread through this country something little better than a caricature; and one sweden has subjected truelove's edition, in england, to a like misfortune. paine's friends, rickman, constable, and others, were satisfied by the romney picture, and i have seen in g. j. holyoake's library a proof of the large engraving, with an inscription on the back by paine, who presented it to rickman. it is the english paine, in all his vigor, and in the thick of his conflict with burke, but, noble as it is, has not the gentler and more poetic expression which bonneville found in the liberated prisoner surrounded by affectionate friends. romney and sharp were both well acquainted with paine. a picturesque paine is one engraved for baxter's "history of england," and published by symonds, july , . dressed with great elegance, paine stands pointing to a scroll in his left hand, inscribed "rights of man." above his head, on a frame design, a pen lies on a roll marked "equality." the face is handsome and the likeness good a miniature by h. richards is known to me only as engraved by k. mackenzie, and published march , , by g. gawthorne, british library, strand, london. it is the only portrait that has beneath it "tom paine." it represents paine as rather stout, and the face broad. it is powerful, but the least pleasing of the portraits. the picture in vale resembles this more than the romney it professes to copy. i have in my possession a wood engraving of paine, which gives no trace of its source or period. it is a vigorous profile, which might have been made in london during the excitement over the "rights of man," for popular distribution. it has no wig, and shows the head extraordinarily long, and without much occiput it is pre-eminently the english radical leader. before speaking of jarvis' great portrait of paine, i mention a later one by him which mr. william erving, of new york, has added to my collection. it would appear to have been circulated at the time of his death. the lettering beneath, following a facsimile autograph, is: "j. w. jarvis, pinx. . j- r. ames, del.--l'homme des deux mondes. born at thetford, england, jan. , (o. s.) . died at greenwich, new york, june , ." above the cheap wood-cut is: "a tribute to paine." on the right, at the top, is a globe, showing the outlines of the americas, france, england, and africa. it is supported by the wing of a dove with large olive-branch. on the left upper corner is an open book inscribed: "rights of man. common sense. crisis": supported by a scroll with "doing justice, loving mercy. age of reason." from this book rays break out and illumine the globe opposite. a lower corner shows the balances, and the liberty-cap on a pole, the left being occupied by the united states flag and that of france. beneath are the broken chain, crown, sword, and other emblems of oppression. a frame rises showing a plumb line, at the top of which the key of the bastille is crossed by a pen, on paine's breast. the portrait is surrounded by a "freedom's wreath" in which are traceable the floral emblems of all nations. the wreath is bound with a fascia, on which appear, by twos, the following names: "washington, monroe; jefferson, franklin; j. stewart, e. palmer; barlow, rush; m. wollstone-craft, m. b. bonneville; clio rickman, j. home tooke; lafayette, brissot." the portrait of paine represents him with an unusually full face, as compared with earlier pictures, and a most noble and benevolent expression. the white cravat and dress are elegant. what has become of the original of this second picture by the elder jarvis? it might easily have fallen to some person who might not recognize it as meant for paine, though to one who has studied his countenance it conveys the impression of what he probably would have been at sixty-eight. about two years later a drawing was made of paine by william constable, which i saw at the house of his nephew, dr. clair j. grèce, redhill, england. it reveals the ravages of age, but conveys a vivid impression of the man's power. after paine's death jarvis took a cast of his face. mr. laurence hutton has had for many years this death-mask which was formerly in the establishment of fowler and wells, the phrenologists, and probably used by george combe in his lectures. this mask has not the large nose of the bust; but that is known to have been added afterwards. the bust is in the new york historical society's rooms. in an article on paine in the _atlantic monthly_ ( ) it was stated that this bust had to be hidden by the historical society to prevent its injury by haters of paine. this has been quoted by mr. robertson, of london, in his "thomas paine, an investigation." i am assured by mr. kelby, of that society, that the statement is unfounded. the society has not room to exhibit its entire collection, and the bust of paine was for some time out of sight, but from no such reason as that stated, still less from any prejudice. the face is that of paine in extreme dilapidation, and would be a dismal misrepresentation if shown in a public place. before me are examples of all the portraits i have mentioned (except that in birmingham), and i have observed contemporary representations of paine in caricatures or in apotheosis of fly-leaves. comparative studies convince me that the truest portrait of paine is that painted by john wesley jarvis in , and now in possession of mr. j. h. johnston, of new york. the picture from which our frontispiece is taken appeared to be a replica, of somewhat later date, the colors being fresher, but an inscription on the back says "charles w. jarvis, pinxit, july, ." from this perfect duplicate clark mills made his portrait-bust of paine now in the national museum at washington, but it has not hitherto been engraved. alas, that no art can send out to the world what colors only can convey,--the sensibility, the candor, the spirituality, transfusing the strong features of thomas paine. as i have sat at my long task, now drawn to a close, the face there on the wall has seemed to be alive, now flushed with hope, now shadowed with care, the eyes greeting me daily, the firm mouth assigning some password--truth, justice. liberty in the nineteenth century by frederic may holland by preface this book is a result of having studied the development of political and religious liberty for forty years. how well i have selected my authorities the reader can judge. i will merely say that i have mentioned no writer whom i have not studied carefully. the sun-dial has been so far my model that victories in the cause of freedom are more prominent than defeats in the pages that follow. it did not seem necessary to give much space to familiar authors, though i should have liked to do justice to buckle, george eliot, and swinburne. i regret that i have been unable to tell at any adequate length how the republic which was proclaimed at paris in has survived longer than any other government set up in france during the century. its enemies have been voted down repeatedly everywhere; the schools have been made free from ecclesiastical control; and the hostility of the clergy has been suppressed by the pope. the french are still too fond of military glory, and too ignorant of the value of personal liberty and local self-government; but rapid advance in freedom is already possible under the constitution of . not only france, but also great britain, canada, and australia, give proof that the time has gone by when americans had any right to claim, as they did in my boyhood, to be the only people able to govern themselves. if any nation can maintain a free press, just laws, and elections of local magistrates, it ought to enjoy these rights, however slight may be its fitness for becoming a real republic; and the suppression of such rights by cromwell and napoleon cannot be pardoned consistently by any friend to liberty. napoleon's chief guilt, as i must here mention, was in ordering the expulsion from office by soldiers, in , of representatives of the people who were striving to maintain liberty at home and establish peace abroad. if there were any necessity for his usurpation two years later, it was largely of his own making. despotism had already been made tolerable, however, even during the first republic, by the national fondness for war. this is according to a principle which is taught by herbert spencer, and which is illustrated in the following pages by many instances from the history of france and other nations. the horrors of the reign of terror may be explained, though not excused, by the greatness of the danger from invaders as well as rebels. and there were very few cases of punishing differences merely about religion by the guillotine. i have also tried to show how the centralising tendencies of a government are strengthened by the wish of its citizens to gain private advantages by state aid. john stuart mill and herbert spencer have published timely warnings against the danger of checking the development of individual energy and ability by meddlesome laws. whether the power of the government ought to be reduced to the narrow limits proposed by these great thinkers, is a question which has been discussed at some length in my last chapter. it is there suggested that such a reduction would be much more practicable in the case of national than of local governments. it is not likely to be made anywhere at present; but it might be well for reformers to try to restrict the operations of governments according to the following rule: nothing to be undertaken by a national government which can be done as well by municipalities; and nothing to be attempted by either a local or central government which can be done as well by private citizens, acting singly or in voluntary associations. this rule would justify towns and cities in taking such care of roads, streets, and schools as is not sanctioned by spencer; but it would leave municipalities free to decide the question whether they ought to carry on gas- and water-works, electric roads, and other enterprises according to the merits of each special case. here in america internal improvements seem to be the proper charge of the state, rather than of the nation; but whether the former has any right to enforce sunday laws, and the latter to impose protective tariffs, are questions which i have taken the liberty of discussing thoroughly. herbert spencer should not be held responsible for any opinions not printed plainly as his. most of the instances of the working of sunday statutes were taken from a religious newspaper entitled the american sentinel. among very recent cases are these. a georgian was sentenced on may , , to pay a fine of twenty dollars or spend six months in the chain-gang for working on his farm. that same month a clergyman was arrested in mississippi, merely for taking a little exercise with a hoe in his garden. in , a farmer in the state of new york was arrested for picking a few apples from one of his own trees. the total number of sabbath-breakers arrested that year in new york city is estimated at a thousand; and there were nearly four thousand arrests for sunday trading in england and wales in . the principle of giving each citizen every opportunity of development compatible with the general welfare, is so plainly irreconcilable with socialism, that i have thought it well to give several instances of the fact that a man seldom does his best work except for his own benefit and that of his family. even the exceptionally energetic and conscientious founders of new england did not raise food enough until it was agreed that "they should set corne, every man for his own particular." another difficulty in the way of state socialism is that the requisite number of competent managers could not be found after the abolition of the competitive system. it is that which brings forward men of unusual ability and energy, though scarcely in sufficient numbers. socialism would increase the demand, but lessen the supply. spencer calls it "the coming slavery." it might better be called a slavery which is becoming obsolete. our existing system of industry certainly needs improvement; but this will have to be made by following the laws of social science. their action has done much during the present century to improve the condition of the poor; and we may trust that it will do more hereafter. the nineteenth might be called the philanthropic century, if that title did not belong also to the eighteenth. the latter has the peculiar merit of doing so much to abolish persecution that there have been comparatively few instances during the period covered by this book. much more has been done during the last hundred years to extend political than religious liberty; but i have not neglected to mention the most active champions of the great principle, that human rights ought not to be affected by individual differences about theology. if there is too little agitation at present for this principle in the united states, it is largely on account of an unfortunate occurrence of which i have written at some length in the last chapter but one. here i had the valuable assistance of francis e. abbot, ph.d., author of _scientific theism_, and benjamin f. underwood. if the words, "militant liberals," had been used in this chapter, they would express my meaning more plainly than the term "aggressive." the least pleasant part of my work has been the pointing out defects in a system of philosophy, ethics, and theology which i once delighted to honour. as valuable results may have been reached by the metaphysical method as by the scientific; but if the latter is right the former is certainly wrong. when we find so consistent and warmhearted a transcendentalist as miss cobbe placing pantheism and scepticism among "the greatest of sins" (see her _religious duty_, pp. , , and ), we may suspect that this philosophy aggravated carlyle's natural bitterness against opponents. there has been comparatively little intolerance among american intuitionalists, thanks to the genial influence of emerson. f. m. h. august, . liberty in the nineteenth century chapter i. napoleon and his work i. france had been freed by the revolution from many ghosts of kingly, feudal, and priestly privileges; but she was still the prey of the most deadly of vampires,--military glory. the followers of this fatal guide had driven the party of peace and liberty from power by force and fraud, and found a ruler after their own hearts in the conqueror who, in , became the emperor napoleon. thus was established what some metaphysicians suppose to be the best form of government,--an enlightened despotism. the autocrat knew that he had risen to power as the most popular champion of political equality; and he gave this democratic principle such additional authority that it has continued supreme in france. her sons are still equals before the law, owners of the land they till, exempt from taxes levied for the benefit of any privileged class, and free to choose their own career and mode of worship. this is due in great part to the usurper who reduced representative government to an empty shell, and who centralised the administration of schools, police, streets, roads, and bridges, and all other local concerns even more completely than had ever been done before the revolution. he knew the real needs of france well enough to give her peace with all her enemies; but scarcely had he signed the last treaty when he took possession of switzerland, and continued to annex territory, in defiance of the protests of the british ministers that he was making peace impossible. war was declared by them in and kept up against him for eleven years continuously, with occasional assistance from russia, austria, prussia, spain, and other countries. this was a period of great glory for france, but also of great suffering. her boundaries were enlarged; but her most patriotic citizens were slaughtered in foreign lands; her shipping was swept away by british cruisers; her people were hindered in obtaining american grain, british cloth, and other necessaries of life, in exchange for wine, silk, lace, and other luxuries; the emperor could not supervise the prefects who managed, or mismanaged, all internal interests, and who were responsible to him alone; freedom of the press was prohibited; and all the arts of peace decayed. this was the price which france paid for auster-litz, jena, and other famous victories over russia, austria, and prussia, which in brought peace with every enemy but england, and made napoleon master, either directly through his prefects, or indirectly through tributary kings, not only of france but of the netherlands, denmark, switzerland, spain, venice with the rest of italy, and about three-fourths of germany, including one-half of what had formerly been prussian territory. eight years from the usurpation in brought him to his zenith: eight years later, he was at saint helena. his german, swiss, and italian subjects gained political equality, and also the permanent advantage of the code which bears his name. it had really been made by his lawyers, on foundations laid by the convention. throughout his dominions, jew, catholic, and protestant became equals before the law. the fact that these reforms survived his authority proves that they could have been established without it. they were unavoidable results of the eighteenth century. how little he was influenced by philanthropy is shown by his driving into exile a statesman named stein, who had abolished serfdom in prussia, and made it equally possible for the members of all classes to buy land and choose occupations. the establishment of the empire had been preceded by the revival of slavery in several colonies where it had been abolished by the convention. it was for helping the haytians preserve their independence by heroic resistance, that toussaint was sent by napoleon to die in prison. the conquered nations in europe were handed over from one master to another, without being even invited to consent; but what was still more oppressive was inability to exchange their own products for cloth and hardware from england, grain from the united states, coffee and sugar from the west indies, and many other articles whose lack was keenly felt. this trouble was largely due to the blockade kept up by british ships; but napoleon was so ignorant of the advantage of commerce to both parties engaged in it as to suppose he could conquer england by a plan which really injured only himself and his subjects. he forbade all importation from great britain and her colonies wherever he had power or even influence; and many of the prohibited goods were taken from merchants and destroyed without compensation. germany suffered also from having her manufactures forbidden to compete with the french. the latter asked in vain for freer trade, and were told by napoleon that he understood their business better than they did. countless outrages on prominent individuals helped the growth of disaffection. ii. the british ministry retaliated against napoleon's attack on the right to trade freely, with a success which led to a great outrage on individual liberty in the united states. the war with europe gave much of the world's commerce to american ships; but they were forbidden by great britain, in , to trade with some of their best customers unless they stopped to pay tribute in her ports. the seizures for disobedience increased the anger which had been long felt against the british for impressing sailors on board of american ships. three thousand citizens of the united states had been forced into a hostile navy before the refusal of our frigate, _chesapeake_, in , to submit to a search brought on a bloody contest. napoleon was then at the height of his power; and great britain was fighting against him single-handed. it was an unusually good time for declaring a war which soon proved inevitable in defence of merchants' and sailors' rights. jefferson preferred to violate those rights himself, as had been done by the federalists in , and congress aided him in forbidding american ships to sail for foreign ports. this embargo was so plainly unnecessary that every captain who was able to get out of new york harbour did so at once without caring what crew, cargo, or papers he had on board. fifty million dollars' worth of shipping was kept idle for more than a year; a hundred thousand sailors and mechanics were thrown out of work; farms and plantations ceased to be profitable; clothing and tools became ruinously dear; thirteen hundred new yorkers, who had been ruined by the embargo, were imprisoned for debt; and laws for protection against creditors were passed by the southern and western states. no one gained by the embargo except the smugglers; and attempts to suppress them called out dangerous manifestations of popular discontent. no one suffered less than the british merchants. iii. meantime, napoleon took the first step towards ruin in placing his brother on the throne of spain. the spaniards had borne patiently the loss of ships, commerce, and colonies; but this fresh wrong stirred up insurrection. the new king was brought to madrid by french troops; but not a single spaniard would enter his service; and he was soon obliged to leave the city. he said to his brother, "your glory will be wrecked in spain"; but napoleon kept on sending in armies, whose victories made him hated, but not obeyed. he offered to abolish feudal privileges, the inquisition, and the tariffs which separated province from province. the only result was to make reform odious to a people which cared much more for nationality than progress. the clergy encouraged the peasants to keep up a guerilla war, in which his veterans perished ignominiously; and british auxiliaries won victories which made wellington famous. austria took advantage of the situation to try to reconquer the lost provinces. the tyrolese had been made subjects of the king of bavaria; but they rose at the call of hofer, and gained glorious victories over french and bavarian soldiers. other defeats were suffered by napoleon; but he soon succeeded in forcing austria to grant him, not only much more of her territory, but the hand of a young princess, who had never thought of him but with abhorrence. this involved his divorce from the loving josephine. he pleaded desire for a son who might succeed him; but he was not likely to live until any child who might be born after this would be old enough to keep together an empire whose basis was conquest. the austrian princess had been demanded before napoleon's application for a russian one had been answered decisively; his plans for restoring poland had given additional offence to the czar; and the welfare of russia demanded freedom to use the products of her forests, fields, and mines in buying british goods. this right was insisted upon by the czar; and napoleon had only abuse for the friends who warned him that defeat in russia would call all germany to arms against him. he was already so unpopular at paris, that he had to remove with his court. the enormous army with which he invaded russia might easily have taken possession of her polish provinces, where the people were friendly. he preferred to march a thousand miles, through a hostile and barren country, to moscow. the city was set on fire at his arrival; but he wasted so much time there, that winter helped the russians turn his retreat into a rout. hundreds of thousands of soldiers perished miserably. the prussians flew to arms; and austria demanded restoration of her provinces. he replied that he should not yield an inch, and cared nothing for the loss of a million lives. he was driven out of germany by "the battle of the nations," which was won at leipsic, in october, , by zealous cooperation of the russians with prussians, austrians, bavarians, and other germans. one result was described by saying that "the dutch have taken holland." need of a strong government in time of war had given a power almost monarchical to the successors of that prince of orange who had saved his republic from philip ii. one of these princes was driven out by a democratic rebellion in , but restored by a prussian army. the french revolution enabled holland to return to republicanism; but alliance with the directory meant continual spoliation; and there were grievous conscriptions under napoleon, whose rule was extremely unpopular in a nation which lived by commerce. when the dutch heard of his defeat at leipsic, they rose against him without waiting for auxiliaries; and the french garrisons were soon driven out by the help of soldiers from russia, prussia, and england. the rulers of these countries sanctioned the desire of the orange faction to make the prince a king. the people were not consulted, but were reconciled by a constitution, under which there was a legislature with some power, local self-government, freedom of worship, political equality, and liberty in commerce. napoleon might have remained emperor; but he refused to make any concessions, and kept on fighting until his generals abandoned him, and his deposition was voted by the senate. the people would not rise for him, as they had done for the republic; and the parisians refused to cry "vive l'empereur" as he returned from elba, to be overthrown at waterloo. three million frenchmen perished in his wars; and he left france smaller than he found her. his restrictions on commerce were removed so suddenly as to destroy the industries which he had tried to foster; and the proportion of paupers to the population was three times as great as in . france was still desirous that the press should be free, and that taxation should be controlled by representatives of the people. louis xviii. had to promise that he would respect these rights which his predecessors had violated. toleration continued; and the peasants kept the property and equality which the revolution had given them, and which no sovereign could take away. napoleon is the most famous of generals; but his greatness as a statesman would have been plainer if he had not undertaken so many showy enterprises which had little chance of success. he failed signally in founding a dynasty, in making france the greatest of manufacturers, and in giving her an invincible navy, though he might have gained the first of these objects by peace, and the last by free trade. he could not even leave to his successor the territory which had been conquered by the revolution. yet these were his dearest purposes, except the wild dream of humbling england. was he the greatest of architects, every one of whose colossal structures fell under their own weight before they could be used? greater is he who builds what lasts for ages. napoleon made the twenty years ending with more glorious than any later period, and much more wretched. western europe was afflicted by bloody wars, and impoverished by restrictions on commerce. if his reign had been peaceable, he might have deprived france much more completely of what liberty she had enjoyed under the directory. every despot, however enlightened and benevolent, must necessarily interfere so much with the liberty of his subjects as to hinder their making themselves happy. france and germany lost nothing in freedom and gained much in prosperity by his defeat; for it gave the world many years of peace. what he brought of political and religious equality to prussia, western germany, and switzerland survived him; for it was part of his inheritance from the revolution which he closed treacherously. france had received her legacy without his help; and she retained much of it in spite of his interference. his victories over hereditary monarchs were so suggestive that books about him are still prohibited in russia; but no people lost much by his overthrow except the italians. iv. waterloo might have been called a "of the nations" as well as leipsic; but the best fighting was under the british flag. the english had suffered much from napoleon, in spite of his never succeeding in making an invasion. the worst injury he did was in forcing them to remain in that absorption in war which had checked the growth of toleration, democracy, and prosperity in . george iii. was personally popular; but his weak, unprincipled successor was merely a figurehead. two-thirds of the members of the house of commons in had been appointed by the ministry, or by some nobleman, and most of the others owned or rented some pocket-borough almost destitute of inhabitants. the house of lords was overwhelmingly opposed to government by the people; and no tories were more consistent than those sons or protégés of noblemen, the bishops. the successors of the apostles had no sympathy with the struggle of the cross against the crescent in lands where paul had preached. they helped to vote down propagation of the gospel in india, as well as enfranchisement of roman catholics, and mitigation of laws which punished pilfering with death. they tried in vain to save the slave-trade from prohibition; and most of the clerical and lay members of both houses were in league to keep the tax on importation of wheat heavy enough to give them large incomes from their real estate. this tariff and the depreciation of currency made food excessively dear. the country labourer was often unable to earn more than the price of a loaf a day. employers agreed on wages so low that the peasants had to ask continually for parochial relief, and could not afford to go out of the parish to seek higher pay. their degradation was increased by their almost universal illiteracy; and their misdemeanours, especially poaching, were punished cruelly; for the rural magistrate was either the squire or his ally, the parson. there was little chance of justice for the poor against the rich; the rural labourer could seldom improve his position; and the bad harvests of , , and helped to make him worse off than ever before or since. the operatives had higher wages, but suffered under the friction of an industrial revolution, which has done more than any political convulsion for human happiness. the factory had been enabled by the invention of the steam-engine and other machines, shortly before , to take the place of the cottages in making cloth. british goods were in great demand abroad during the war, and had to be carried in british ships. improved roads and canals led merchants and manufacturers to opulence. the rich grew richer, as has usually been the case; but there were some exceptional years during which the poor really grew poorer. one man could make as much cotton cloth in a day as two hundred could have done before; but what was to become of the one hundred and ninety-nine? demand for factory labour kept increasing until ; but population grew faster still. wages were already falling; the return of peace lessened the demand abroad; and hundreds of thousands of discharged soldiers and sailors were added to the multitude of unemployed. labourers were forbidden either to emigrate or to combine in order to keep up wages; and their earnings were lowest at the time when bread was the highest. meat, sugar, foreign fruit, and many other articles now in common use were almost unattainable by the poor until late in the century. there was much more intelligence in the towns than in the country; but there were no opportunities of education in in england for one-half of the children. boys and girls entered the factory at the age of six, and often from the poor-house, where they had been sold into slavery. the regular time was fourteen hours a day; sitting down was seldom permitted; food was scanty and bad; punishment was constant and cruel; deformity and disease were frequent; and the death-rate was unusually high. terrible cases occurred of pauper children, kept sixteen hours at a stretch without rest or food, driven by hunger to rob the troughs in the pig-sty, tortured merely for amusement by the overseer, and even advertised for sale with the mill. the middle class differed much more widely than at present, both from the masses on one hand and from the aristocracy on the other, as regards food, dress, culture, amusements, and political liberty. taxation was heavy and vexatious; representation in parliament was notoriously inadequate; and honest men and women were still liable to imprisonment for debt. no one but an episcopalian had a right to study at a university, enter parliament, or hold any civil, naval, or military office in england; and neither dissenters nor catholics could marry without going through ceremonies which conscience forbade. the press was fettered by laws which kept leigh hunt imprisoned for two years, on account of an article acknowledging the unpopularity of the prince regent. cobbett underwent an equally long imprisonment in newgate for blaming the cruelty of sentencing insubordinate militiamen to be flogged five hundred lashes. no plays could be performed in london in until they had been read and licensed by the lord chamberlain's deputy. as soon as a strong government ceased to be needed for protection against napoleon, there broke out much agitation for relief of the disfranchised as well as of the destitute. there was an unprecedented circulation of the cheap pamphlets in which cobbett advised the discontented to abstain from lawless violence, which could only give them another robespierre, and devote themselves to striving peaceably for their political rights. among these he asserted that of every man who paid taxes to vote for members of parliament. the serious riots which took place in many parts of great britain, even london, made the aristocracy consider all opportunities of addressing the people dangerous. the ministry were empowered in to arrest speakers and authors without any warrant, and keep them in prison without a trial. prohibition of public meetings was made possible by an act which extended to reading-rooms, debating societies, even among students at cambridge, and scientific lectures. the mounted militia was sent to disperse a meeting of fifty thousand unarmed men and women at manchester, on august , , in behalf of parliamentary reform. the people were packed together so closely that they were unable to separate quickly. fear that some of the young gentlemen who had ridden into the throng might get hurt led the magistrates to order several hundred hussars to charge, without notice, into the dense crowd. the meeting was soon reduced to heaps of fallen men and women, who had been overthrown in the general struggle to escape or cut down by the soldiers; and the field was covered with bloody hats, shawls, and bonnets. six people were killed, and more than thirty others wounded severely. there was indignation everywhere against this wanton cruelty; and the common council of london voted their censure; but parliament passed laws that same year which made public meetings almost impossible, and put cheap pamphlets under a prohibitory tax, by requiring that they must have such an expensive stamp as kept newspapers beyond the reach of people generally. arrests for printing and selling unstamped publications were thenceforward frequent. there were many bloody riots; and a conspiracy for assassinating the ministry was organised in . a dangerous revolution might then have broken out, if food had not been made plenty by abundant harvests. roman catholics were still forbidden to hold any office under the british government. they could not sit in either house of parliament, or be married legally in ireland, where they formed four-fifths of the population, and almost all the offices on that island were filled by protestants who had been sent over from england, or else elected by close corporations containing scarcely any catholics. the disfranchised nation was all the more indignant on account of such facts as that two-thirds of the soil of ireland had been taken away without compensation by english invaders before , and that the share of the irish in was only one-tenth. this was held mostly in great estates, as was the rest of the island. rents were everywhere high and wages low, for population was superabundant; manufactures had been crushed by laws to protect british interests; the people were left ignorant, even of agriculture; and there were frequent famines. both the land and the government were mismanaged by an anti-irish minority which took little pains to keep its own partisans from lawless violence, but did its utmost to extort money for a legion of priests, who were merely servants of oppression to nine-tenths of the people. how little they cared about their professed duty may be judged from the case mentioned by a traveller named inglis (vol. i., p. ), of a bishop who drew four or five hundred pounds a year for calling himself rector of a parish where there was no pretence of any public worship but the catholic. indignation of irish presbyterians had been one main cause of the bloody rebellion of ; and all patriotic irishmen were exasperated at the oppression of the poor by the rich. removal of religious disabilities was urgently demanded, and most of the men were members in of an independent association, which could easily have turned the island into one vast camp. v. germany had been devastated by twenty years of battles; and many thousand germans had perished, either in defending their homes against napoleon, or in serving under him in russia. his overthrow left them in deeper subjection than ever to a league of despots, who differed in pomp of title and extent of territory, but agreed in obstinately denying any political liberty to the people. the servitude of germany was confirmed by the agreement of clergymen and philosophers, that absolute monarchy was "ordained of god." the ban of church and university was on the revolutionary rationalism which had inspired the eighteenth century. the predominant philosophy during the first half of the nineteenth century insisted on the infallibility of what was called intuition, but was often merely tradition. this was already the case in germany, where moribund ideas of politics and theology were worshipped as the loftiest revelations of pure reason. devout disciples still hold that all established institutions are justified and all knowledge revealed by hegel's method of deduction from his own peculiar definition of the infinite. that definition seems self-contradictory; but this is only a trifle, compared with the method's permitting the master to prefer absolute monarchy, and forcing him to deny that any nation, not extremely limited in area, can long remain a democracy. hegel's indifference to the existence of the united states was like his asserting, after the discovery of ceres, that the place where it had been found, and where hundreds of other planets are now known to exist, must be empty. among other results of his system were a denial that lightning is electricity, and an assertion that rain is merely a change of air into water. neither liberty nor knowledge gains by disregard of experience in favour of deductions from imaginary intuitions. unfortunately, the experience of europe under napoleon, as well as during the revolution, seemed to justify restoration of old institutions as well as of former boundaries. the latter purpose was ostensibly that for which the conquerors of napoleon met at vienna, soon after he had retired to elba; but their real object was to divide the spoils among themselves. the emperors of russia and austria had the assistance, or opposition, of five kings, and of so many princes and nobles that three hundred carriages of state were kept in constant readiness. lovely ladies of high rank came from many lands; and it seemed to the uninitiated as if nothing was going on but masked balls, private theatricals, hunting parties, stately dinners, and concerts. beethoven was among the musicians. there was no general meeting of the monarchs and ambassadors; but there were frequent conferences of those most interested in one point or another; and the name of congress of vienna was amply justified by the number of bargains and compromises. the only persons never consulted were the thirty millions whose masters were thus selected. belgium, for instance, was forced into a union with holland, which led to civil war; and the norwegians were put under subjection to the swedes, against whom they had just been fighting. ten millions more of poles were made subjects of the czar; and his original wish to rule mildly was frustrated by their rebellion. the italians had been brought by napoleon into such unity and sense of nationality as they had not felt for many centuries. offers of greater liberty made lombardy and venice take sides against him; they were rewarded by being put under the most hated of rulers, the austrians; and the latter were made virtually masters of all italy. when all the plunder had been divided, the royal robbers united in a declaration, acknowledging jesus as the only sovereign and recommending the daily and universal practice of religion. the only sovereign who kept his promise, that he would give his subjects a new constitution if they would help him conquer napoleon, was goethe's patron at weimar. he presided over the university of jena, which schiller, fichte, and other professors had made the centre of democratic influence in germany. a secret political society was formed by students who had fought at waterloo; and all the universities were invited to help celebrate, on october , , the anniversary, not only of the victory at leipsic, but of the opening of the protestant reformation. five hundred students from various parts of germany met in the wartburg, the castle where luther found refuge after bidding defiance at worms to both pope and emperor. it was agreed that the new society should extend through all the universities, and should have banners of black, red, and yellow. these henceforth were the colours of liberty in germany. napoleon had reduced prussia's army to a minimum; among the preparations for breaking his yoke had been the practice of such gymnastics as are still kept up by the turners; and a public exhibition was given that evening near the castle, before an immense bonfire. reference was made there to kings who broke their word; and as the audience broke up, some of the students fed the blaze with various emblems of despotism, such as the canes with which soldiers were flogged by corporals. then they burned a number of blank books, with titles copied from those of pamphlets recently published in opposition to progress. the king of prussia had taken some steps towards constitutional liberty, but these boyish freaks brought him completely under the influence of prince metternich. this crafty but kind-hearted austrian worked steadily, from to , at much sacrifice of ease and pleasure, in hope of preserving civilisation and religion from being destroyed by any new revolution. he was now the real emperor of germany; the british ministry was in sympathy; and the czar, who had at first been an admirer of parliamentary government, was converted by an outrage in the name of liberty on the right of free speech. one of the literary champions of russian autocracy, kotzebue, was assassinated, early in , by a divinity student who had been at the wartburg. that same year the representatives of the leading german states met at carlsbad, and agreed, with the czar's approval, that all german journals and universities should be under strict supervision, that political offenders should be tried by a special central tribunal, and that the new colours should be prohibited. vi. louis xviii. cared as little as charles ii. of england about promises, but was quite as unwilling to have to travel abroad. he dissolved a legislature which was too reactionary; subsequent elections returned liberal candidates, though only one man in a hundred could vote; the national guard was revived; and progressive ideas were expressed freely. france was moving forwards until february , , when a bonapartist murdered the king's nephew, in hope of cutting off the succession. the legislature was obliged, two days later, to let the press be muzzled; sanctions of individual liberty were thrown aside; and a law was passed to give rich men two votes apiece. the liberal ministry was dismissed; and its successor put all education under control of the priests, forbade cousin and guizot to lecture, and sent béranger to prison for publishing incendiary songs. louis xviii., like charles ii., left the crown to a bigoted brother, who had been taught by the jesuits to care much more for religion than human rights, or the duty of chastity; and charles x. did his utmost to make himself an absolute monarch. still worse results of assassination in the name of liberty had already been suffered in spain and italy. no people had really lost much by the overthrow of napoleon except the italians. they were learning how to love each other as fellow-citizens of one common country, and how to care more for the welfare of the people than for that of the priests. the congress of vienna restored the supremacy of the clergy, and cut up italy once more into little principalities, whose stupid and cruel despots were guided by metternich. the people were already conscious of the tie of nationality, desirous to be governed with some regard to their own welfare, and destitute of faith in the divine right of kings. few of them have been so plainly not "ordained of god" as ferdinand of naples and sicily. he had run away basely from the invaders, and been brought back to promise amnesty, and to massacre men, women, and children by thousands. no criminals but patriots were watched closely; and brigands defied the government. there was no pretence of liberty, even on the stage; and the jesuits kept literature and education down to merely nominal existence. the only refuge of freedom was among the carbonari, or members of a secret society, half a million strong. their flags of black, red, and blue were hoisted in many towns and villages on july , , when the army led the revolt. the king swore on the bible, and after hearing mass, that he would establish a constitution like the french one of , and then asked help from metternich. the latter brought the austrian, russian, and prussian monarchs together at troppau, silesia, where they agreed, on december , , to put down all rebels, especially in italy. an austrian army won a decisive victory next march over the neapolitans, whose best troops were fighting against an attempt at secession in sicily. austria took part, a month later, in suppressing a revolt which had just broken out against the petty despot nicknamed "king of sardines." his first step on his restoration, in , had been to reappoint every man who had been in office in ; and napoleon's code gave way to ancient statutes which, for instance, forbade the piedmontese to send wheat they could not use themselves to the savoyards, who were starving. he was forced to abdicate by a revolt of citizens who wanted a constitution and of soldiers who wished to free lombardy from austria. her help enabled his successor to keep the monarchy absolute; and her influence became paramount in sardinia, as elsewhere in italy. vii. the month of april, , brought an end of rebellion in italy, and the outbreak of a ferocious revolution in greece. the turkish rule was intolerant, and intentionally oppressive. exportation of food and clothing, for instance, was forbidden in hope of keeping down prices; and the result was to check production. the country was full of brigands; and the worst of wrongs were inflicted on unbelievers by the officials. priests and rulers in other lands refused to help their fellow-christians against moslem tyrants; and the famous victory won by bozzaris was over roman catholics. the new republic had only nominal authority. independent bands of patriots fought desperately; and the crescent soon gave place to the cross in the archipelago as well as in the morea, once famous as the peloponnesus; but the cause was continually disgraced by pillage, perfidy, massacre, and civil war. several millions of contributions, mainly english, were squandered by the captains. byron sacrificed his life in a vain attempt to create military discipline; and lack of any permitted the morea to be conquered in by the regular army sent over by the pasha of egypt. all resistance, north of the isthmus of corinth, was soon suppressed by the co-operation of egyptians and turks; and the islanders could do nothing better than ask help from foreigners. the only government which had thus far aided greece was the american; and congress had done much less than the people to relieve distress. an alliance between great britain, france, and russia, for preventing extermination of the greeks, was brought about by canning. the sovereigns of turkey and egypt were so obstinate that their ships were destroyed by the allied fleet at navarino, messenia, on october , . the egyptians were driven out of the morea by french soldiers; and northern greece rose against the turks with a success which secured the present boundary. the greeks were not permitted to establish a republic; but the monarchy finally became constitutional under the pressure of insurrection. viii. no nation had been less capable than the spanish of appreciating the advantage, either of a vigorous government, or of toleration, freedom of the press, political equality, and personal liberty. all the time-honoured abuses abolished by napoleon had been at once restored with the help of the populace; but nothing effective was done to suppress the insurrections which had broken out, during the war, in mexico and south america. up to that time, the indians were serfs and the negroes were slaves. all political power was monopolised by officials sent over from spain. spanish interests were protected so thoroughly that all domestic industries were crippled, and goods often cost six times as much as in europe. schools and newspapers were almost unknown; no books but religious ones could be bought; and heresy was punished pitilessly. the invasion of spain by napoleon gave opportunity for several simultaneous insurrections. that in venezuela was crushed by a great earthquake, which was accepted as a sign of divine wrath. among the leaders was bolivar, who retreated to colombia. a spanish version of paine's _rights of man_ had been circulated there, and the patriots were fighting gallantly. there were many bloody battles in venezuela and colombia; but both countries were finally made free by the battle of carabolo, won on june , , by bolivar. on july th, in that same year, the independence of peru was proclaimed by general san martin, who had liberated chili, three years previously, with an army which he led from the argentine republic across the andes by paths never used thus before. his decisive victories were won by the help of emancipated slaves. chili would have made him her ruler; but he asked only her help against the spaniards, who were concentrated in peru. there he found such disorder as led him to declare himself protector; but this made him so unpopular that he resigned his power and left the continent which he had done more than anyone else to liberate. the war went on until the hold of spain on america was broken forever by a battle fought, , feet above the sea, on december , , at ayacucho, a name given long before by indians who had fought there among themselves, and meaning "the corner of death." constitutions like that of the united states had already been proclaimed; too much power was held by bolivar and other despots; but they did not keep the people in such poverty, ignorance, and apathy as had been inflicted by spain. paraguay, however, had a tyrant who dressed himself after a caricature of napoleon, and tried to imitate his despotism, but had nothing of his genius. francia was one of carlyle's model rulers, perhaps because he allowed no elections, juries, public meetings, or newspapers, and sent everyone who talked politics to prison. men who would not take off their hats to him were cut down by his guards; and timid boys were seen running through the streets with no other article of dress. there were no imports or exports, except by special permission; and goods cost ten times as much as at buenos ayres. equality of races was sought by degrading the whites; but francia's reign had the one merit of peace. ix. intelligent spaniards were provoked at their king's failure to suppress the rebellion; and the soldiers who were called together for this purpose in had been so badly paid that they plotted with the friends of progress. a revolt broke out in the camp on the first day of ; and it was soon followed by one at madrid, where the dungeon of the inquisition was broken open. the king was forced to restore the constitution which had been framed by the patriots in , after the model of the french instrument of . the prospect of freedom in religion made the clergy and peasantry mutinous. the reactionists in france and spain found favour with the sovereigns of russia, austria, and prussia. the liberal government was overthrown in april, , by a french army. the peasants took sides with the invaders, and many patriots were massacred by the populace. absolute monarchy and other ancient iniquities were restored, but not the inquisition. france would have gone on to subdue the rebels in south america for her own benefit; but this was prevented by the british ministry, which was now showing the liberalising influence of peace. napoleon's despotism had the awful and baneful grandeur of an eruption of vesuvius; but his despicable enemies merely kept up the oppression of his empire without its glory. their work completed his, as the last of the petty emperors at rome and constantinople showed the legitimate tendency of the political system of the mighty founder. caesar and napoleon had much in common as conquerors; but it showed far more greatness to found an empire which endured for fifteen centuries, than one which held together for scarcely as many years. even that length of despotism was sadly too long for the welfare of mankind. chapter ii. fruits of peace exigencies of war had given the british nobles a despotic power, which they retained long after it ceased to be needed for the nation's safety. the king was their puppet and parliament their property. the laws were framed and administered for their protection and emolument. clergy, army, militia, and police were all organised for keeping the people down; and education could do nothing to raise the lowly. pensions and salaries, even in the church, were reserved for members and servants of the aristocracy, with little care for the public good. wages were low, food dear, illiteracy common, and paupers numerous. even the middle class was in great part disfranchised; taxation was needlessly severe; the press was restricted grievously; and ireland was shamefully oppressed. i. as public attention ceased to be absorbed by victorious generals, it turned to the miseries of the poor; and there was much discussion of plans for their relief. early in the century it became generally known that robert owen's factories were unusually profitable, on account of what he did for the intelligence, health, and happiness of the operatives. his pamphlet, published in , and often reprinted as a _new view of society_ argued strongly for universal education as the remedy for poverty and crime; public opinion was much enlightened on the continent, as well as in england; but a sagacious member of the british aristocracy said to him: "oh, i see it all! nothing could be more complete for the working-classes; but what will become of us?" owen complained in this pamphlet that sabbatarianism denied "innocent and cheerful recreation to the labouring man"; and he spoke in public of the influence of religion on progress, with a hostility which sadly injured his popularity. his life was examined with a jealousy which brought to light only its elevation. the opposition of people who thought themselves respectable drove him into agitation for what he was the first to call "socialism." he published on may , , his plan for forming villages, where the people were to work under the supervision of the eldest, and "be freely permitted to receive from the general store of the community whatever they might require." these last words contain the characteristic principle of socialism, that every labourer is to be paid according to his needs, whatever the value of the work. a dozen such experiments were made in the united states, about ; but it was found impossible to unlearn the experience of the race. progress has consisted in bringing each man's welfare into more exact proportion to the value of his work. this tendency has never safely been suspended, except under such coercion as has kept up industry and economy among monks, rappites, shakers, and other docile enthusiasts. the cooperative stores which owen was among the first to open seem to have failed because the salaries were not high enough to secure skilful managers. ii. the proof that a reformer was before his age is the fact that later years caught up with him; and this is by no means so true of owen as of bentham, who declared socialism impracticable. he was one of the first to advocate woman suffrage (_works_, vol. iii., p. ), savings banks, cheap postage, collection of statistics, direction of punishment towards reformation, and repeal of usury laws. his bulky volumes are in great part occupied with suggestions for making the courts of justice less dilatory and uncertain, less expensive to the poor, and less partial to the rich. his _principles of morals and legislation_ declared, in , that the sole end of a ruler ought to be the happiness of all the people, and that this rule should be the basis of ethics as well as politics. one of his publications in claimed the suffrage for every man and woman who could read, but insisted that this would be "worse than nothing" without that "shield to freedom," the secret ballot. an opponent who feared that this would destroy private property was answered thus: "has he ever heard of pennsylvania?" the complaint that freedom of the press to expose corrupt officials might weaken the government was met by showing that there can be no good government without it. to think our ancestors wiser than us, he says, is to take it for granted that it is not experience but inexperience that is the "mother of wisdom." bentham's best work was in sowing seed that his friends might reap the harvest. other authors were generously assisted by his manuscripts, purse, and library; and there has been no stronger advocate of reform than the _westminster review_, which he founded in . the first number showed that the whigs were too much like the tories. their leaders were noblemen or millionaires; their favourite measure, abolition of rotten boroughs, was mainly in the interest of the middle class; and their policy towards the masses was a seesaw between promising elevation and permitting oppression. this article was by james mill, who showed in a later number that any church which was established must, on that account, be bigoted. his essay _on government_ urges that the masses cannot be protected unless fully represented. they had not yet found out all they needed; but education would teach it; and occasional mistakes would not be so bad as systematic oppression. among his ablest books is a defence of the rationalism, bequeathed by the eighteenth century, against transcendentalism, which eclipsed it during the first half of the nineteenth. the inspiration of the new philosophy was added to that of many new reforms; and a glorious literature blossomed in the long summer of peace. wordsworth's fear of "too much liberty" did not prevent his encouraging intellectual independence most impressively. scott tried "to revive the declining spirit of loyalty"; but the result was universal admiration of rebels and sympathy with peasants. many authors who adapted themselves much more closely and intentionally to the needs of the age ceased long ago, for this very reason, to find readers. this, for instance, was the fate of the indefatigable cobbett. landor, on the other hand, was unpopular from the first, because devotion to greek and latin literature made his style as well as some of his favourite topics uninteresting, except for scholarly people who were soon offended by such remarks as "law in england and in most other countries is the crown of injustice. according to her laws and usages, brutus would have been hanged at newgate; cato buried with a stake through his body in the highroad; cicero transported to botany bay." "certain i am, that several of the bishops would not have patted cain upon the back while he was about to kill abel." "a peerage i consider as the park-paling of despotism." in his _imaginary conversations_, hofer and metternich, the emperors of russia and china, the kings of spain and portugal, the spanish priest, merino, and many other extraordinary personages tell how badly england was governed by "the hereditarily wise," and what a misfortune it was for all europe, to have her rulers enjoy such an intimate and universal friendship as was never known among their predecessors. no writer has spoken more mightily than byron against the "blasphemy" of ascribing divine authority to these "royal vampires." he knew that napoleon had been "the scourge of the world"; but he was indignant to see the men who had struck down the lion kneeling before wolves; and yet he looked forward to the reign everywhere of "equal rights and laws." he spoke freely of the "sacerdotal gain but general loss" in superstition; and his own highest faith was that "they who die in a great cause" would "augment the deep and sweeping thoughts which overpower all others and conduct the world at last to freedom." his poems revealed the grandeur of scenery, as well as history, and made delight in mountains and thunderstorms felt as an ennobling influence. his speeches in the house of lords were pleas for parliamentary reform, catholic emancipation, and mercy to rioters infuriated by famine. in , he was one of the leading carbonari in italy; he gave his life to help the greeks become free; and his name is still a watchword of revolution. his friend, shelley, went so far in the same direction as to call himself a republican, as well as an atheist. his life was pure in his own eyes; but his opinions about divorce were punished by a decision in chancery that he was unfit to be trusted with his own children. he had consecrated himself in boyhood to war against all oppressors; and his position to the last was that of his own prometheus, suffering continually with the enslaved, but consoled by faith that his sympathy will hasten the glorious day when every man shall be "king over himself," when women, free "from custom's evil taint," shall make earth like heaven, when "thrones, altars, judgment-seats, and prisons" shall seem as antiquated as the pyramids, and when human nature shall be "its own divine control." he took the side of the poor against the rich in a drama which was suppressed on account of its severity against george iv., and which ends with a portentous scene, where "freedom calls famine, her eternal foe, to brief alliance." he spoke as well as wrote for the independence of ireland; and he would have done much for that of greece, if he had not died soon after publishing a magnificent tragedy, in which he showed what cruel massacres were perpetrated while the rulers of christendom refused to help christian patriots against the turks. byron is called the poet of revolution; but shelley was the poet of liberty. one was like a painter who captivated the multitude, sometimes by his brilliancy of colour, sometimes by his tragic pathos, and sometimes by his amorous warmth. the other was like a sculptor who left a few statues and tablets, fanciful in design and majestic in execution, for the delight of connoisseurs. fortunately the marble is likely to outlast the canvas. iii. these poets and philanthropists helped the people of england contrast the wrongs they were suffering with the rights they ought to have. that love of liberty which drove out the stuarts revived, as despotism was seen to increase pauperism and excite more crime than it suppressed. the conflict between republicanism and monarchy in europe had changed to one between despotism and constitutionalism; and peace made england free to resume the advanced position she had held in the eighteenth century. the declaration of president monroe, in december, , that the united states would not permit the south american republics to be overthrown by any despot in europe, gained much authority from the concurrence of the british ministry; and the latter was induced by canning to form that alliance with france and russia which gave independence to greece. the attack on the slave-trade, which began while england was at peace with her neighbours, had slackened in the shadow of the long war. the wicked traffic was prohibited in ; but little more could be done before . then an appeal for emancipation in the west indies was made to parliament by wilberforce and other organised abolitionists; and the agitation went on until victory was made possible by the rescue of the house of commons from the aristocrats. the acts forbidding workingmen to combine for higher wages, or to emigrate were repealed in . the criminal laws had already been mitigated, and some protection given to children in factories; and the duties on wool and raw silk were now reduced, to the common benefit of consumer, manufacturer, and operative. the whigs were strong enough in to repeal the test act, which had been passed in , for the purpose of enabling the episcopalians to hold all the offices, but had become a dead letter so far as regarded protestants. the house of lords gave way unwillingly; and one of the bishops secured such a compromise as kept jews out of parliament for the next thirty years. conscientious scruples against taking oaths were treated at this time with due respect; and all british protestants became equals before the law. canning had already made the house of commons willing to emancipate catholics; but neither this reform nor that of abolishing rotten boroughs could pass the bench of bishops; and the church stood in the way of a plan for free public schools. it was the organised resistance of all ireland to disfranchisement of catholics which won toleration from a tory ministry. its leader, wellington, cared nothing for public opinion or the people's rights; but he was too good a general to risk a war with a united nation. even the minister whose sympathy with orangemen had won the nickname of "orange peel" declared that it was time to yield. popular prejudice against romanism had been much diminished by gratitude for the aid given by catholic allies against napoleon. the bishops rallied around the king, who had never before been influenced by what he called religion; but he was forced to sign, on april , , the bill which ended a strife that had cursed europe for three hundred years. two-thirds of the bishops resisted to the last; and the tory party was so badly divided as to be unable to prevent england from following the example set next year by france. iv. by the constitution of , the power belonged mainly to the parisian bankers, merchants, and manufacturers. these men preferred constitutional monarchy to either democracy or military despotism; but they meant to maintain their own rights; and they were much offended at the attempts of charles x. to check mental progress and revive superstition. his plans for fettering the press were voted down in the chamber of nobles; journalists prosecuted by his orders were acquitted by the courts; and he could not enforce a law under which burglars who robbed a catholic church would have mounted the guillotine. early in , he dissolved the legislature for declaring that he was not governing according to the wish of the people. the candidates next elected were two to one against him. on monday, july , appeared his ordinances forbidding publication of newspapers without his permission, unseating all the deputies just chosen, and threatening that subsequent elections would be empty formalities. the plan was like that of ; but this time the soldiers in paris were few in number and ill-supplied with provisions, while their general was not even notified of his appointment. the police allowed the journalists to spread the news throughout paris and publish a protest declaring that they would not obey the ordinances and appealing to the people for support. the leader, thiers, had already called for a king who would reign but not govern. lawyers and magistrates pronounced the ordinances illegal. printers and other employers told their men that the next day would be a holiday. on tuesday, the crowds of operatives, clerks, students, ragged men and boys could not be dispersed by the police. marmont took command of the troops that afternoon, and shot a few insurgents. that night all the street-lamps were put out; thousands of barricades went up, after plans but recently invented; and gun-shops, powder-magazines, arsenals, and even museums were broken open. on wednesday, there was a new city government in the hôtel de ville; everywhere hung the tri-coloured banner of napoleon and the republic; and the tocsin called out a hundred thousand rebels in arms. the weapons of crusaders were seen side by side with the bayonets and uniforms of the national guard, which had been revived by napoleon but disbanded by charles x. marmont's orders were to clear the streets that afternoon; but the soldiers were met everywhere by a heavy fire and a shower of paving stones and furniture. one patriotic girl was said to have sacrificed her piano. all the detachments were finally hemmed in between barricades and crowds of rebels with pikes, muskets, and bayonets. during the night they were concentrated around the tuileries, where they suffered greatly from hunger and thirst, as they had done during the day. their ammunition was almost exhausted; and new barricades were put up around them. marmont ordered that there should be no more firing, except in self-defence, and tried in vain to make truce with the rebels. the latter were joined on thursday by the regiments in the place vendôme. this position was entrusted to part of the swiss who had defended the louvre; but the others were soon driven out by men and boys who swarmed in at unguarded doors and windows. all the soldiers took flight that noon from paris. all this time the king was amusing himself at st. cloud, and boasting that there would be no concessions. he now offered to dismiss his ministry and revoke the ordinances; but more than a thousand lives had been lost. the parisians marched against him: he abdicated and fled: the bourbons had ceased to reign. the men who had fought against him called for a republic with universal suffrage and no state church; but the wealthier citizens were afraid of war with russia and austria. a descendant of louis xiii. and a friend of thiers was made king by the legislature. he called himself louis philippe, and promised cordially to carry out the constitution, which now meant freedom of the press, and equal privileges for all christian churches. the supremacy of rome in france was at an end. seats in the upper house could no longer be inherited; and the right to vote for deputies was given to twice as many frenchmen as before. patriots in all nations were encouraged; and the swiss cantons became more democratic; but hegel was frightened to death. among other results were unsuccessful revolts in rome and warsaw, with successful ones in brussels, cassell, and dresden. the subjection to holland, which had been imposed by the congress of vienna, was hated by the belgians, partly because it made education secular, and partly because it gave them only half the legislature, and very few offices elsewhere, although they formed three-fifths of the population. priests were active in stirring up the revolt which began at brussels on august , , after the performance of an opera telling how masaniello had set naples free. the dutch were driven out; belgium was made a separate constitutional monarchy by the vote of a convention of deputies; france and england helped her maintain political independence; but it was to the loss of intellectual liberty. v. the success of rebellion with the pressure of hard times enabled the whigs to carry england for parliamentary reform. peel and wellington hastened their fall by boasting that there could be no improvement of a legislature which accepted members for places without any inhabitants, but not for birmingham, leeds, manchester, or some parts of london, and which actually enabled one scotchman to elect himself as sole representative of fourteen thousand people, in a district where he was the only voter. the people were so discontented with the whole system of church and state, that thousands of sympathisers gathered around cobbett in july, , when he was tried for printing a statement that riots of farm hands were doing good in forcing the clergy to reduce their tithes. lord brougham, who had been made chancellor, was among the witnesses to the generally pacific tendency of cobbett's writings. the jury did not agree; and the government gave up the case. there was but little more political persecution of british authors. reform triumphed that autumn in the house of commons. the house of lords would then have been conquered, if the bishops had acted like successors of the apostles; but twenty-one out of twenty-three voted for prolonging their own dominion. their conduct made it unsafe for them to wear their peculiar costume in the streets. bells tolled, and newspapers put on mourning. there were riots in all the cathedral towns. a duke's castle was burned, because he insisted that the votes of his tenants were his private property, and attempts to punish the incendiaries brought bristol, one sunday, into the hands of a mob which burned the bishop's palace, the custom-house, and many other buildings. it was agreed by a meeting of a hundred thousand people at birmingham, that no more taxes should be paid until parliament was reformed; and on very many houses, especially in london, there was the following notice: "to save the collector unnecessary trouble, he is informed that no taxes on this house will be paid, until the reform bill pass into a law." it was at a meeting to encourage this course that sydney smith, who had done good service for catholic emancipation, told how vainly mrs. partington tried to sweep back the atlantic, during a great storm, and added: "be quiet and steady. you will beat mrs. partington." the episcopal partingtons continued to be even more hostile than the lay members of the house of lords; but all finally yielded to the threat that there would be new peers enough created to vote them down. a popular song made the reform bill boast that, "twenty peers shall carry me, if twenty won't, then forty will; for i 'm his majesty's bouncing bill." the throne was then filled by william iv., who reigned from to , and who gave his consent, though sometimes unwillingly, to several of the greatest reforms ever passed in england. the bill which he signed on june , , enabled members of parliament to be elected by populous districts hitherto unrepresented, instead of by little boroughs where the voters were so few as to be bought up easily, or else intimidated constantly; and the franchise was also much extended, though not outside of the middle class. thus great britain ceased to be governed by a league of irresponsible nobles, bishops, and other lords of vast estates. vi. they had kept the lower classes ignorant, in order to secure obedience; and their methods were not given up at once. newspapers had already become the chief teachers of politics; and therefore they were under a triple tax. a duty on paper added one-fourth to the cost of publication. there was also a tax of three-and-sixpence on each advertisement; and more of this lucrative business was done by the publishers in new york city than by all those in great britain. a third exaction was that of fourpence for a stamp on every copy; and prices were thus prevented from falling below seven-pence, except in case of violation of the laws. these threatened fine or imprisonment to whoever should publish or sell any periodical costing less than sixpence, and containing "news, intelligence, occurrences, and remarks and observations thereon, tending to excite hatred and contempt of the government and constitution of this country as by law established, and also to vilify religion." this purpose was avowed explicitly, in so many words, by _the poor man's guardian_, which announced that it was published "contrary to law" and would be sold for one penny. the circulation was twice that of _the times_, and the language often violent. the publisher, hetherington, was sent twice to prison for six months; and could not go about except disguised as a quaker. his papers were packed in chests of tea, by an agent who was afterwards mayor of manchester. another publisher, who devoted himself to reports of criminal trials, used to send them out in coffins. many unstamped periodicals were in circulation. some dealers carried them about in their hats and pockets. others hawked them in the streets, and declared, when sentenced to prison, that they should resume the business on the same spot as soon as they were released. paid informers and spies helped the whig government carry on more than two hundred prosecutions in , and more than five hundred previously. subscription boxes for the relief of the martyrs could be seen everywhere. remonstrances were signed and indignation meetings held in london and manchester. "the society for the repeal of all taxes on knowledge" kept up a vigorous agitation, which was aided by bulwer in parliament. at last the publishers who bought stamps found they could not compete with men who bought none. this duty, and also that on advertisements, were reduced in ; and the result was so gratifying, even to publishers of the best periodicals, that all these taxes have been abolished. protestant bigotry had not prevented unsectarian public schools from being opened in ireland in ; and that year is also memorable for the abolition of slavery in the west indies, the extension of universal suffrage in scotland, the beginning of free trade with india and china, the removal of disability for office from hindoo subjects of great britain, the protection of children from being overworked in factories, and the suppression of supernumerary bishops and rectors in ireland. during the next three years, the local government of most english towns and cities, though not yet of london, was taken from corrupt oligarchies and given to all inhabitants who paid even a moderate rent; seamen ceased to be impressed; irish catholics and english dissenters were enabled to marry without apostasy; vexatious methods of collecting tithes were abolished in england; the poor-laws were made less favourable to the increase of pauperism; and the growth of prosperity and independence among the poor was assisted by the introduction of a system of unsectarian education, in , though the bishops would have preferred that one-third of the people of england should remain illiterate. penny postage was established in , the last year when great britain was governed by the whigs. parliament was so philanthropic and tolerant as to reject repeatedly a proposal to impose heavy fines for attending secular meetings, visiting eating-houses, travelling, fishing, or hiring horses on sunday. labour, too, was to be forbidden, but not that of "menial servants." this bill would have prevented the poor from enjoying their only holiday; but there was to be no interference with the pleasures of the rich; and the fact was pointed out by a young man, whose _pickwick papers_ had just begun to appear in monthly parts. his illustrated pamphlet is entitled: _sunday as it is; as sabbath bills would make it; as it might be made_. it has been reprinted with his plays and poems. he tells how much was done for the health and happiness of london by those privileges which the sabbatarians were trying to abolish; and he shows what gain there would be in knowledge and virtue from opening all the museums and galleries sunday afternoons. the pamphlet shows that delight in the bright side of life, and that sympathy with the pleasures of the poor, which won popularity for _the pickwick papers_ in , and afterwards for _the old curiosity shop_ and the _christmas carol_. the novels most like _sunday as it is_, however, are such protests against bigotry and cruelty as _oliver twist, nicholas nickleby, and barnaby rudge_. powerful pictures of the gloom of that british sabbath which locked up everything "that could by any possibility afford relief to an overworked people," may be found in _little dorrit_; and the plot turns on the sabbatarianism of a cruel fanatic who had made felony part of her religion. much was done by this novel, as well as by _pickwick_ and _nicholas nickleby_ towards the abolition of imprisonment for debt in . his tone was very mild, compared with that of the popular orators. resistance to bad laws was urged by richard carlile; and a clergyman named taylor, who held the gospel to be a solar myth, was imprisoned on october , , for saying that the first martyrs for jesus christ were the gadarene pigs. another london lecturer declared on sunday evening, december , , that "the elective franchise should belong to women, as a part of the people," and again that "women are qualified to elect and to be elected to all public offices." "any argument for exclusion is of that kind which has justified every tyranny," says this discourse, which was printed for the first time, on may , , in an american newspaper, _the free enquirer_. its columns show that a young lady had already presented very advanced ideas as a lecturer at the rotunda in london; but the general opinion of the sex was expressed by the wife of the rev. john sandford, whose popular book declared that "there is something unfeminine in independence. a really sensible woman... is conscious of inferiority." the irish have supported themselves so successfully in america, and obeyed the laws so generally, as to prove that failure to do either in ireland should not be attributed to their race or their religion, but wholly to their oppression. memory of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was all the more bitter in the nineteenth, because the destitution of the peasantry was increasing hopelessly. removal of religious disabilities and reform of parliament did not prevent bands of armed peasants from fighting against attempts to take away their cattle in payment of the tithes exacted by well-paid dignitaries of the hated church. it sometimes happened that a dozen of the combatants were killed. sydney smith estimated that this way of keeping up a state church cost a million lives, from first to last, and ireland had to be as heavily garrisoned as india, until a less vexatious system was established in . municipal government was wholly in the hands of little corporations, which had the sole power of electing new members and seldom admitted a catholic. the ruling oligarchy was to the population as one to two hundred in limerick, and only as one to twenty-five hundred in protestant belfast. the right of local self-government was given to the people of these cities and a few others in ; but even this small and tardy justice provoked an english bishop to threaten that it would call down vengeance from god. full municipal suffrage throughout the island and a domestic parliament were demanded by all ireland, under the guidance of the mighty orator o'connell; but the prejudice against his cause in great britain was made invincible by his denouncing "the saxons," as he called the english, for the crimes of their ancestors. vii. all reforms stopped in , when the whigs lost the supremacy. it was not their fault that excess in speculation on both sides of the atlantic had brought on a panic which threw thousands of people out of work in the factory towns, and reduced other thousands to earning only twopence a day. a succession of bad harvests, just before , made wages very low on the farms, and food too dear everywhere. bread was sold in halfpenny slices; labourers robbed pigs of swill; children fought with dogs for bones in the streets; one person in every eleven was a pauper; and england seemed to dickens like one vast poorhouse. the old ways of giving charity had been so lavish and indiscriminate as to encourage pauperism; the new system of relief proved really kinder; but at first it was administered too slowly and cautiously for the emergency; and there was some ground for the complaints in _oliver twist_. knowledge that paupers were neglected strengthened the belief of the working-men, that all they needed to make them as well off as their brethren in america was the ballot. paine, cobbett, and hetherington were widely read; manhood suffrage and a secret ballot were called "the people's charter"; and there were more than a million signatures to the chartist petition in . these demands were just; but about one englishman in three was unable to write his name at this time; and many who had acquired this accomplishment knew dangerously little about politics. when we think how much mischief has recently been done in the united states by illiterate and venal votes, we cannot blame englishmen of the upper and middle classes for delaying to grant universal suffrage. they ought to have made rapid preparation for it, by liberal encouragement of popular education through free schools and a cheap press; but even the whigs were too indignant at the violence of the chartists, who made bloody riots in . how ignorant these men were was shown by their doing their worst that year to help carry the elections against the whigs, who were much less hostile to chartism than the conservatives, as those tories were called who still condescended to politics. the most culpable blunder of the whigs had been that of allowing the revenue to fall below the expenses; and the policy they had proposed for making up the deficit was too much like that halfhearted way of dealing with slavery which brought ruin upon the party of the same name in america. the british tariff was raised by the war against napoleon, as the american was under similar pressure afterwards, so high as in some cases to prohibit imports and actually check revenue. either tariff could have been used as an almost complete list of the world's products; and both were framed on the principle of protecting everybody, except consumers, against competition. great britain unfortunately could produce only part of the food needed by the people; and the tariff was so much in the interest of owners of land as to make bread and meat dearer than if the island had been barren. importation of cattle was prohibited; and that of wheat and other grain was not permitted until prices were high enough to cause famine. then importation would begin slowly, and keep increasing until the supply of both foreign- and home-grown wheat would become large enough to glut the market and make farmers bankrupt. these duties on grain, which were known as the corn laws, acted with similar taxes on all other necessaries of life in impoverishing factory hands and other members of the working class. they were told that the laws which kept living dear kept wages high; but we shall see that this turned out not to be the fact. the only real gainers by the corn laws were those wealthy owners of great estates of whom parliament was composed entirely, with the exception of a few members of the house of commons. that body allowed manchester and other factory towns to send representatives who had found out the tendency of protectionism from their own business experience, as well as from study of political economy. among these men was cobden, who had already planted himself in the road to wealth, but who preferred to remain poor that he might make england rich. he and his associates knew that imports are paid for by exporting what can be produced most profitably; that nothing is imported which could be produced as cheaply at home; that large imports make large exports; that the average englishman knows how to carry on his own business; and that the government could not encourage any otherwise unprofitable industry without checking the really profitable ones. on these facts were based the following predictions. in the first place, free trade in grain and cattle would lower the average price of food in england, and make the supply so regular that there would be no more famines. second, those countries which were allowed to send grain and cattle, cotton and other raw materials, etc., to england would buy british manufactures in return. third, removal of duties from raw materials would enable factories to produce goods more cheaply, and sell larger quantities at home as well as abroad. then, fourth, this increased activity in manufacturing would raise wages, while remission of duties would make all the necessaries of life cheaper, so that pauperism would diminish and prosperity become more general in the working class. and finally, the commerce of england with other countries would grow rapidly to their mutual benefit; and thus international relations would be kept friendly by free trade. in this faith the reformers at manchester and birmingham asserted the right of all men to buy and sell freely, and demanded the removal of all duties except those best adapted to bring in necessary revenue. they were wise enough to attack the monstrous tariff at its weakest point, the tax on bread. the anti-corn-law league was organised in ; the spot where the peterloo massacre had been perpetrated, twenty years before, was soon used for a free trade banquet in which five thousand working-men took part; and appeals to the people were made in all parts of england. the conservatives were all protectionists; and so many whigs were on that side that those leaders who were opposed to the bread tax did not dare to come out against it. they did propose in to meet the deficit in the revenue by reducing some duties which were so high as to prevent importation, for instance, the tax on all sugar not grown in british colonies. the protectionist whigs voted with the conservatives against the ministry; and it had to go out of office without having done enough against the corn laws to secure the support of the league. protectionists, chartists, and opponents of the new poor-law helped to give the conservatives control of the next parliament, where the free-traders were one to four. such was the state of things in october, , when the league went to work more vigorously than before in educating the people, and especially voters of the poorer class. during the next twelve months, half a million dollars was spent in this work. in , there were fourteen regular lecturers in the field, besides countless volunteers, and five hundred distributors of tracts. the annual number of publications was about ten million copies; and the annual weight exceeded a hundred tons. the dissenting ministers did good work for reform; but the episcopalian clergy were too friendly to a tax which kept up the value of tithes. the league soon had the support of john bright, who was one of the greatest of british orators. prominent among opponents was the chartist leader, feargus o'connor; and those chartists who were not protectionists held that their cause ought to take the lead. public opinion was so strongly for free trade in that parliament took off the duties from cotton and other raw materials, in hope of conciliating the manufacturers; but these latter redoubled their efforts to abolish the tax on food. subscriptions were larger than ever; and much land was bought by free-traders who wished to qualify themselves as voters for members of the next parliament, which would have to be elected in or before . reform seemed still distant, when shelley's prophecy was fulfilled. freedom's eternal foe, famine, came suddenly to her help. dearness of wheat and meat had obliged half of the irish and many of the english to live entirely on potatoes. wages were often paid in ireland by loan of land for raising this crop. the rot which began in august, , soon became so destructive that peel, who was then prime minister, proposed in october that grain should be made free of duty. wellington and other members of the cabinet demurred; and the question had to be submitted to parliament. disraeli insisted to the last on keeping up the tariff; but famine was increasing; and both houses finally agreed, after long debate, to accept peel's proposal, that not only the duties on food and raw materials, but most of the others, should be either reduced or abolished. his conservatism did not keep him from seeing that the whole system of protecting home industries must stand or fall together. prominent among obstructionists were the bishops. the house of lords did not agree before june , , to the reform which had been accepted on may th by the house of commons, and which was publicly acknowledged by wellington to be inevitable. such was the exasperation of the protectionists that they helped the opponents, of coercion in ireland to drive peel out of office, by a vote which was taken in the house of commons on the very day when his plan of tariff reform gained that victory in the house of lords which made free trade for ever the system of great britain. about one-half of the import duties are now levied on tobacco, one-fourth more on wine and strong drink; and most of the rest on tea and other groceries. duties on articles which could be produced in great britain are offset by internal-revenue taxes. no monopoly is given to farm or factory; no necessary article is made too dear for the poor; and there are no needless violations of the right of the labourer to spend his wages in the best market. this reform made the relief of ireland possible, though the loss of life was terrible. never again has england been so near to a famine as in . food is now so plenty that five times as much sugar is used in proportion to population as in , and more than twice as much butter and eggs. this does not mean that the millionaire eats five times as much sugar, or twice as many eggs, as before, but that poor people can now buy freely what formerly were almost unattainable luxuries. the proportion of money in savings banks in england and wales has doubled; and that of paupers sank from in in to in in . wages have risen fifty per cent., while other prices have fallen; and british workmen are better off than any others in europe. the annual value of english exports declined steadily from to ; but it is now four times as great as in the latter year; and it is more than twice as large in proportion to population as in those highly protected countries, the united states and france. low tariffs also enable belgium to export nearly three times as much for each inhabitant as france, and new south wales to export five times as much as the united states. large exports do not depend on density of population but on ability to import freely. readiness of any country to buy freely of her neighbours keeps them able and willing to buy whatever she has to sell. free trade has given great britain, new south wales, and belgium their choice of the world's markets. great britain has also been enabled to keep up much more friendly relations with the rest of europe than would otherwise have been the case. liberty of commerce has helped her enjoy peace; and peace has preserved free institutions. the reforms which culminated in free trade showed englishmen that they could right any wrong without resort to violence. the attempt of the chartists to overawe parliament in was seen to be inexcusable; and it failed ridiculously. never since then has insurrection in england been even possible. the atmosphere of thought has been so quiet that suffrage was greatly extended in , and made practically universal in . voters gained the protection of a secret ballot in ; and municipal self-government was given in to every part of england where it had not already been established. no wonder that there is little of the revolutionary ardor of shelley and byron in tennyson, browning, and other recent poets. they have delighted in progress; but they have seen that it must come through such peaceable changes in public opinion, and then in legislation, as are caused by free discussion. the benign influence of peace has enabled them to display such brilliancy as had not been seen in england for more than two hundred years. no other writers ever paid so much attention to public health and the general happiness. the ablest thought of the century has been devoted to enriching human life, and not to destroying it. this has enabled science to make unprecedented progress. a new period of intellectual history has been opened by spencer and darwin. viii. prominent among reformers who had no wish for revolution, and no respect for science, were dickens and carlyle. the latter's ("former's" ed.) aversion to political economy as "the dismal science" was echoed in the pages of _hard times_; and the absence of any reference in _dombey and son_ to the great movement against the corn laws is characteristic of a novelist whose _pickwick papers_ made fun of scientific investigation. what was there called the "tittlebat" is really that nest-building fish, the stickleback. passages ridiculing the use of statistics might be quoted at great length from both authors. dickens had too much sympathy with paupers, especially those who suffered under the poor-law of ; and carlyle had much too little. they agreed in opposition to model prisons and other new forms of philanthropy. perhaps it was mainly the habit of indiscriminate ridicule which suggested such caricatures as mrs. jellaby and mrs. pardiggle. carlyle's belief that abolitionism was "an alarming devil's gospel" and his denunciation of "the sugary, disastrous jargon of philanthropy" were legitimate results of idolatry of what he called "early, earnest times," namely the dark ages. his sympathy with mediaeval methods was so narrow that he spoke of a poet of weak health and high culture, whom he saw suffering under a sentence of two years in a pestilential prison, forbidden books or writing materials, kept most of the time alone and on bread and water, but guilty of nothing worse than a chartist speech, as "master of his own time and spiritual resources to, as i supposed, a really enviable extent." dickens shows much more appreciation of the real superiority of modern times, though personal disappointments, during his visit to america, prevented him from acknowledging the merits of democracy. carlyle's reverence for the early hebrews and other primitive barbarians made him present hero-worship as the only secure corner-stone of politics. his receipt for a perfect government is this: "find in any country the ablest man that exists there; raise him to the supreme place; and loyally reverence him." "such a government is not to be improved by voting or debating." "neither except in obedience to the heaven-chosen is freedom so much as conceivable." this theory showed its own absurdity in prompting eulogies on francia and other despots; but carlyle's apologies for cromwell were of some service to the cause of liberty fifty years ago, when england had forgotten to honour the champions of the long parliament. dickens thought more about the asceticism than the independence of the puritans. he and carlyle have dispelled some of the prejudices against the heroes of the first republic; but they perpetuated others. carlyle's best work was in encouraging the readers of his first books to think for themselves. the power of dickens to call out sympathy with the unfortunate will never cease to bless mankind. as much pity for the outcast has been shown by his great rival, victor hugo, and even more fellow-feeling with the oppressed. the spirit which has made france free animates all his writings, especially those grand poems which were called out by the usurpation of louis napoleon bonaparte. his early dramas dealt so vigorously with royal weakness and vice that _marion de lorme_ was suppressed by charles x. and _le roi s'amuse_ by louis philippe. the work which has made him best known, and which appeared in in nine languages, is a plea for mercy to criminals, or in his own words, to "the miserable." the chief aim is to show "the oppression of laws," and the mistake of aiding the tyranny of the police by thinking too severely of the fallen. he finds an opportunity to introduce an enthusiastic panegyric on the victories of napoleon, closing with the question: "what could be more grand?" "to be free," is the reply. full justice to the french revolution is done by that most dramatic of novels, _ninety-three_. here he says: "the agony of the nations ended with the fall of the bastile." "perhaps the convention is the culmination of history." "it declared poverty and disability sacred." "it branded the slave-trade, and freed the blacks." "it decreed gratuitous education." "the object of two-thirds of its decrees was philanthropic." such facts are all the more worthy of mention, because they were omitted by carlyle. supplement to chapter ii i. thomas carlyle's prejudice against democracy was strengthened by the failure of the revolutions of . constitutional monarchy was as hostile to reform in france as it was friendly in england. only one frenchman in thirty could vote; and the legislature cared nothing for public opinion. louis philippe was hated for habitual dishonesty. there had been several attempts at regicide and some bloody revolts. one of the latter gave a basis from history for victor hugo's _misérables_. restrictions on the press and on public meetings increased the unwillingness of the working-men at paris to be governed by the rich. socialism was popular, and employment insufficient. the prohibition of a reform banquet caused barricades to be thrown up on february d in paris. the militia took sides with the populace; the king fled to england; and all france accepted the republic, which was proclaimed on february th. slavery had been reestablished in the colonies by napoleon; but it was now abolished; and so was capital punishment for political offences. the example of paris was followed in march by successful insurrections at berlin, vienna, and other german cities, as well as in lombardy and venice. home rule was demanded by hungary and bohemia, and constitutional governments were soon established there as well as in austria, prussia, and other german states, and in every part of italy. the king of sardinia took the lead in a war for driving back the austrians across the alps. co-operation of french, german, hungarian, and italian patriots might have made all these countries permanently free. such a union would have been difficult on account of international jealousies; and it was made impossible by the socialists at paris. scarcely had a provisional government been set up, when recognition of "the right of employment" was demanded by a workman, who came musket in hand, and was supported by a multitude of armed artisans. they extorted a decree which promised every citizen work enough for his support. a ten-hour law was passed. co-operative factories were started with aid from the city authorities, and had some success. opening national workshops was not advised by leading socialists; but it was considered necessary by some of the ministry in order to keep the unemployed from revolt. every applicant drew money constantly, even if not at work. what little labour was actually performed was done so lazily, and paid so highly, that the number of men soon rose to , . the expenses became enormous; and the tax-payers insisted that they too had rights. in order to be able to employ all the labourers a government would have to own all the property; and it would also have to be strong enough to enforce industry. even victor hugo admitted that the experiment had failed. the national assembly, of which he was a member, notified the men in the shops that they must enlist in the army, or go to work at a safe distance from paris on state pay, or look out for themselves. they rose in arms against the republic, and took possession of nearly one-half of the city on june , . "bread or lead" was the motto on their red flags; and two of their terrible barricades are described at the beginning of the last part of _les misérables_. they held out against regular troops and cannon during four days of such fighting as had never been seen before in paris. more frenchmen are supposed to have fallen than in any of napoleon's battles. two thousand of the soldiers were slain; but no one knows how many times that number of insurgents perished in the fight or in penal colonies. thenceforth the french government was much more desirous to repress insurrection at home than to sustain it abroad. louis napoleon bonaparte was elected president that same year, partly on account of his name, and partly on account of his promise that he would defend the right of private property against socialism. austrian generals of the rough and reckless type which carlyle loved forced lombardy and bohemia back into the empire, and restored absolute monarchy at vienna, while the king of sardinia was obliged to abdicate after such a defeat in march, , as almost extinguished liberty in italy. venice alone held out against them under that purest of patriots, manin, and suffered terribly during a siege of twenty-one weeks. hungary was subdued that summer with the aid of russia. france did nothing except to revive the papal despotism at rome. mazzini's republic was crushed by that which had a bonaparte for president. his power had been increased by the disfranchisement of several million french voters of the poorer class. his promise to restore universal suffrage joined with memory of the massacres of june, , in preventing much resistance to his usurpation of absolute power on december , . there was a monstrous vote, next november, for an empire, where the centralisation of administration was complete, and the legislature merely ornamental. thus the liberation of europe was prevented, partly by race prejudices, but mainly by attempts to benefit the poor by overtaxing the rich. france and hungary were left with less political liberty than before; and italy gained very little; but some of the constitutional freedom acquired in was retained in prussia and other parts of western germany. ii. it was contrary to the general tendency of wars, that those of the latter half of the century aided the growth of free institutions in italy. an honoured place among nations was given by the crimean war to sardinia. then her patriotic statesman, cavour, persuaded napoleon iii. to help him rescue lombardy from austria. garibaldi took the opportunity to liberate naples; and victor emanuel made himself king over all italy except rome and venice. the latter city also was brought under a constitutional and friendly government by a third great war, which made the king of prussia and his successors emperors of germany, while austria was compelled to grant home rule to hungary. the liberation and secularisation of italy were completed in by the expulsion from rome of the french garrison. the emperor had lost his throne by waging war wantonly against a united germany. iii. the third republic was soon obliged to fight for her life against the same enemy which had wounded her sister mortally. socialism was still the religion of the working-men of paris, who now formed the majority of the national guard. indignation at the failure of the new government to repulse the prussians led, on march , , to the capture of all paris by what was avowedly the revolution of the workmen against the shopkeepers, "in the name of the rights of labour," for "the suppression of all monopolies," "the reign of labour instead of capital," and "the emancipation of the worker by himself." this was in harmony with the teaching of the international working-men's association, which endorsed the insurrection fully and formally, and which held with karl marx that wealth is produced entirely by labour and belongs only to the working class. socialists were active in the rebellion; but property-holders in paris took no part; and all the rest of france took sides with the government. what professed to be the rising of the many against the few turned out to be that of the few against the many. impressment was necessary for manning the barricades, and pillage for raising money. the general closing of stores, factories, and offices showed that capital had been frightened away by the red flag. one of the last decrees of its defenders was, "destroy all factories employing more than fifteen workers. this monopoly crushes the artisan." this spirit would have caused the confiscation of the funds of the national bank, if the managers had not said: "if you do that, you will turn the money your own comrades have in their pockets to waste paper." the priceless pictures and statues in the louvre were condemned to destruction because they represented "gods, kings, and priests." millions of dollars worth of works of art perished in company with docks, libraries, and public buildings; but this vandalism, like the massacre of prisoners, was largely the work of professional criminals. the capture of paris, late in may, was accompanied with pitiless slaughter of the rebels, though many lives were saved by victor hugo. since then the french republic has been able to keep down not only the socialists but the bonapartists and royalists. it has also succeeded, with the help of writers like renan, in checking the ambition of the clergy. continuance of peace in europe has assisted the growth of local self-government in france, and also in germany. the famous prussian victories seem, however, to have increased the power of the german emperor; and there is still danger that the growth of standing armies may check that of free institutions. chapter iii. democrats and garrisonians i. the fall of the english aristocracy was hastened by the success of democracy in america. nowhere were the masses more willing to obey the law; and nowhere else were they so intelligent and prosperous. the gains of the many made the country rich; territory and population increased rapidly; and britannia found a dangerous competitor on every sea. political liberty and equality were secured by the almost uninterrupted supremacy of the democratic party from to . twelve presidential elections out of fifteen were carried by jefferson and his successors; and the congress whose term began in was the only one out of the thirty in which both houses were anti-democratic. political equality was increased in state after state by dispensing with property qualifications for voting or holding office. jefferson and his successor, madison, refused to appoint days for fasting and giving thanks, or grant any other special privileges to those citizens who held favoured views about religion. congress after congress refused to appoint chaplains; so did some of the states; and a national law, still in force, for opening the post-offices on every day of the week, was passed in . many attempts were made by sabbatarians to stop the mails; but the senate voted in , that "our government is a civil, and not a religious institution"; and the lower house denied next year that the majority has "any authority over the minority except in matters which regard the conduct of man to his fellow-man." the opposition made by the federalists to the establishment of religious equality in connecticut, in , increased the odium which they had incurred by not supporting the war against great britain. four years later, the party was practically extinct; and the disestablishment of congregationalism as the state church of massachusetts, in , was accomplished easily. the northern states were already so strong in congress that they might have prevented missouri from entering the union that year without any pledge to emancipate her slaves. the sin of extending the area of bondage so far northwards was scarcely palliated by the other conditions of the compromise. the admission of maine gave her citizens no privileges beyond what they had previously as citizens of massachusetts; and the pledge that slavery should not again be extended north of latitude thirty-six, thirty, proved worthless. the north was so far from being united in that it was not even able to raise the tariff. new york, pennsylvania, and ohio wished to exclude foreign competition in manufacturing; but the embargo was too recent for new england to forget the evils of restricting commerce. the salem merchants petitioned for "free trade" "as the sure foundation of national prosperity"; and the solid men of boston declared with webster that "a system of bounties and protection" "would have a tendency to diminish the industry, impede the prosperity, and corrupt the morals of the people." ii. the dark age of american literature had ended in . before that date there were few able books except about theology; and there were not many during the next sixty years except about politics. the works of franklin, jefferson, and other statesmen were more useful than brilliant. sydney smith was not far wrong in , when he complained in the _edinburgh review_ that the americans "have done absolutely nothing for the sciences, for art, for literature." he went on to ask, "in the four quarters of the globe, who reads an american book?" his question was answered that same year by the publication in london of irving's _rip van winkle_ and _legend of sleepy hoi-low_. bryant's first volume of poems appeared next year, as did cooper's popular novel, _the spy_; and the _north american review_ had begun half a dozen years before. but even in , channing could not claim that there really was any national literature, or much devotion of intellectual labour to great subjects. "shall america," he asked, "be only an echo of what is thought and written in the aristocracies beyond the ocean?" this was published during the very year in which president monroe declared that the people of the united states would look upon attempts of european monarchs "to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and liberty." channing was much interested in the study of german philosophy; but he rested his "chief hopes of an improved literature," on "an improved religion." he maintained that no man could unfold his highest powers until he had risen above "the prevalent theology, which has come down to us from the dark ages," and which was then "arrayed against intellect, leagued with oppression, fettering inquiry, and incapable of being blended with the sacred dictates of reason and conscience." unitarianism claimed for every individual, what protestantism had at most asked for the congregation,--the right to think for one's self. this right was won earlier in europe than in america, for here the clergy kept much of their original authority and popularity. their influence over politics collapsed with federalism. on all other subjects they were still listened to as "stewards of the mysteries of god," who had been taught all things by the holy spirit, and were under a divine call to preach the truth necessary for salvation. the clergyman was supposed to have acquired by his ordination a peculiar knowledge of all the rights and duties of human life. no one else, however wise and philanthropic, could speak with such authority about what books might be read and what amusements should be shunned. scientific habits of thought, free inquiry about religion, and scholarly study of the bible were put under the same ban with dancing, card-playing, reading novels, and travelling on sunday. the pulpit blocked the path of intellectual progress. its influence on literature was wholly changed by the unitarian controversy, which was at its height in . still more beneficial controversies followed. the trinitarian clergymen tried to retain their imperilled supremacy by getting up revivals. one of these, in the summer of , was carried so far at cincinnati that many a woman lost her reason or her life. these excesses confirmed the anti-clerical suspicions of frances wright, who had come over from england to study the negro character, and had failed, after much labour and expense, to find the slaves she bought for the purpose capable of working out their freedom. she had made up her mind that slavery is only one of many evils caused by ignorance of the duties of man to man, that these duties needed to be studied scientifically, and that scientific study, especially among women, was dangerously impeded by the pulpit. that autumn she delivered the first course of public lectures ever given by a woman in america. anne hutchinson and other women had preached; but she was the first lecturer. the men and women of cincinnati crowded to hear the tall, majestic woman, who stood in the court-house, plainly dressed in white. her style was ladylike throughout; but she complained of the many millions wasted on mere teachers of opinions, whose occupation was to set people by the ears, and whose influence was stifling the breath of science. "listen," she said, "to the denunciations of fanaticism against pleasures the most innocent, recreations the most necessary to bodily health." "see it make of the people's day of leisure a day of penance." her main theme was the necessity of establishing schools to teach children trades, and also halls of science with museums and public libraries. this course was repeated in baltimore, philadelphia, new york, boston, and other cities. her audiences were always large, but she charged no admission fee. what were called "fanny wright societies" were formed in many places. a baptist church in new york city was turned into a hall of science, which remained open for three years, beginning with the last sunday of april, . it contained a hall for scientific lectures and theological discussions, a free dispensary, a gymnasium, and a bookstore. here was published _the free enquirer_, the only paper in america which permitted the infallibility of christianity to be called in question. the principal editor, robert dale owen, son of the famous socialist, claimed to have twenty thousand adherents in that city, and a controlling influence in buffalo. celebrations of paine's birthday were now frequent. it was fortunate for the clergy that controversies about religion soon lost their interest in the fierce struggle about politics. iii. the fame won by jackson as a conqueror of british invaders in , blinded americans to a fact which had been made manifest by both napoleon and wellington, as it is said to have been still more recently by grant. the habit of commanding an army has a tendency to create scorn of public opinion, and also of those restrictions on arbitrary authority which are necessary for popular government, as well as for individual liberty. jackson had the additional defect of holding slaves; and it is probable that if he had never done so, nor even had soldiers under his orders, he would have been sadly indifferent to the rights of his fellow-citizens and to the principles of free government. he was elected in , and proved enough of a democrat to renounce the policy, which had recently become popular, of making local improvements at the national expense; but he was the first president who dismissed experienced officials, in order to appoint his own partisans without inquiry as to their capacity to serve the nation. he was especially arbitrary about a problem not yet fully solved, namely, what the government should do with the banks. the public money was then deposited in a national bank whose constitutionality was admitted by the supreme court. its stock was at a premium and its notes at par in ; and it had five hundred officials in various states. jackson thought it had opposed his election; and he suggested that the public money should be removed to the custody of a branch of the treasury, to be established for that purpose. the plan has since been adopted; but his friends were too much interested in rival banks, and his opponents thought only of preventing his re-election in . they could not, however, prevent his obtaining a great majority as "the poor man's champion." the bank had spent vast sums in publishing campaign documents, and even in bribery; and jackson suspected that it would try to buy a new charter. he decided, with no sanction from congress, and against the advice of his own cabinet, that the public money already in the bank should be drawn out as fast as it could be spent, and that no more should be deposited there. he removed the secretary of the treasury for refusing to carry out this plan; and obliged his successor to set about it before he was confirmed by the senate. to all remonstrances he replied, "i take the responsibility"; and he met the vote of the senators, that he was assuming an authority not conferred by the constitution, by boasting that he was "the direct representative of the american people." webster replied that this would reduce the government to an elective monarchy; and the opponents to what they called jackson's toryism agreed to call themselves whigs. their leader was henry clay; and they believed, like the federalists, in centralisation, internal improvements, and protective tariffs. jackson was sustained by the democrats; but their quarrel with the whigs prevented congress from providing any safe place for the public money. it was loaned to some of the state banks; and all these institutions were encouraged to increase their liabilities enormously. speculation was active and prices high. that of wheat in particular rose so much after the bad harvest of that there was a bread riot in new york city. scarcely had jackson closed his eight years of service, in , when the failure of a business firm in new orleans brought on so many others that all the banks suspended payment. prices of merchandise fell so suddenly as to make the dealers bankrupt; many thousand men were thrown out of employment; and so much public money was lost that there was a deficit in the treasury, where there had been a surplus. iv. these bad results of jackson's administration strengthened the whigs. they had not ventured to make protectionism the main issue in ; and clay had acknowledged that all the leading newspapers and magazines were against it in . its adoption that year was by close votes, and in spite of webster's insisting that american manufactures were growing rapidly without any unnatural restrictions on commerce. the duties were raised in to nearly five times their average height in ; and there was so much discontent at the south, that some slight reductions had to be made in the summer of ; but the protectionist purpose was still predominant. if the opponents of all taxation except for revenue had done nothing more than appeal to the people that autumn, they would have had congress with them; jackson was already on their side; and the question might have been decided on its merits after full discussion. the threat of south carolina to secede caused the reduction, which was actually made in , to appear too much like a concession made merely to avoid civil war; and this second attempt to preserve the union by a compromise was a premium upon disloyalty. this bargain, like that of , was arranged by henry clay; and one condition was that the rates should fall gradually to a maximum of twenty per cent. before that process was completed, the treasury was exhausted by bad management; and additional revenue had to be obtained by raising the tariff in . the whigs were then in power; but they were defeated in the presidential election of , when the main issue was protectionism. the tariff was reduced in by a much larger majority than that of in the house of representatives; and the results were so satisfactory that a further reduction to an average of twenty per cent, was made in , with the general approval of members of both parties. the revenue needed for war had to be procured by increase of taxation in ; but the country had then had for twenty-eight years an almost uninterrupted succession of low tariffs. the universal prosperity in america between and is mentioned by a french traveller, chevalier, by a german philanthropist, dr. julius, by miss martineau, lyell, and dickens. the novelist was especially struck by the healthy faces and neat dresses of the factory girls at lowell, where they began to publish a magazine in . lyell said that the operatives in that city looked like "a set of ladies and gentlemen playing at factory for their own amusement." our country had seven times as many miles of railroads in as in ; our factories made more than nine times as many dollars' worth of goods in as in ; and they sold more than three times as many abroad as in . twice as much capital was invested in manufacturing in as in ; the average wages of the operatives increased sixteen per cent, during these ten years; america became famous for inventions; her farms doubled in value, as did both her imports and her exports; and the tonnage of her vessels increased greatly. such are the blessings of liberty in commerce. especially gratifying is the growth of respect for the right of free speech. the complaints by dickens, chevalier, and miss martineau of the despotism of the majority were corroborated by tocqueville, who travelled here in and published in a very valuable statement of the results and tendencies of democracy. the destruction that year of a catholic convent near boston by a mob is especially significant, because the anniversary was celebrated next year as a public holiday. the worst sufferers under persecution at that time were the philanthropists. v. in order to do justice to all parties in this controversy we should take especial notice of the amount of opposition to slavery about in what were afterwards called the border states. here all manual labour could have been done by whites; and much of it was actually, especially in kentucky. there slaves never formed a quarter of the population; and in maryland they sank steadily from one-fourth in to one-eighth in . of masters over twenty or more bondmen in , there were only in kentucky and in maryland. it was these large holders who monopolised the profits, as they did the public offices. white men with few or no slaves had scarcely any political power; and their chance to make money, live comfortably, and educate their children, was much less than if all labour had become free. such a change would have made manufacturing prosper in both kentucky and maryland; but all industries languished except that of breeding slaves for the south. the few were rich at the expense of the many. only time was needed in these and other states to make the majority intelligent enough to vote the guilty aristocrats down. two thousand citizens of baltimore petitioned against admitting missouri as a slave state in ; and several avowed abolitionists ran for the legislature shortly before . at this time there were annual anti-slavery conventions in baltimore, with prominent whigs among the officers, and nearly two hundred affiliated societies in the border states. there were fifty in north carolina, where two thousand slaves had been freed in , and three-fifths of the whites were reported as favourable to emancipation. henry clay was openly so in ; and the kentucky colonisation society voted in that the disposition towards voluntary emancipation was strong enough to make legislation unnecessary. the abolition of slavery as "the greatest curse that god in his wrath ever inflicted upon a people" was demanded by a dozen members of the virginia legislature, as well as by the _richmond inquirer_, in ; and similar efforts were made shortly before in kentucky, delaware, maryland, western virginia, western north carolina, eastern tennessee, and missouri. from to the senate was equally divided between free and slave states; and any transfer, even of delaware, from one side to the other would have enabled the north to control the upper house as well as the lower. the plain duty of a northern philanthropist was to co-operate with the southern emancipationists and accept patiently their opinion that abolition had better take place gradually, as it had done in new york, and, what was much more important, that the owner should have compensation. this had been urged by wilberforce in , as justice to the planters in the west indies; the legislatures of ohio, pennsylvania, and new. jersey recommended, shortly before , that the nation should buy and free the slaves; and compensation was actually given by congress to loyal owners of the three thousand slaves in the district of columbia emancipated in . who can tell the evils which we should have escaped, if slavery could have continued after to be abolished gradually by state after state, with pecuniary aid from congress or the north? this was the hope of benjamin lundy, who passed much of his life in the south, though he was born in new jersey. he had advocated gradual emancipation in nearly every state, visiting even texas and missouri, organising anti-slavery societies, and taking subscriptions to his _genius of universal emancipation_, which was founded in tennessee in , but afterwards was issued weekly at baltimore. he published the names of nine postmasters among his agents, and copied friendly articles from more than forty newspapers. one of his chief objects was to prevent that great extension of slavery, the annexation of texas. vi. the election of the first pro-slavery president, jackson, in , discouraged the abolitionists; and lundy was obliged to suspend his paper for lack of subscribers early next year. when he resumed it in september, he took an assistant editor, who had declared on the previous fourth of july, in a fashionable boston church: "i acknowledge that immediate and complete emancipation is not desirable. no rational man cherishes so wild a vision." before garrison set foot on slave soil, it occurred to him that every slave had a right to instant freedom, and also that no master had any right to compensation. these two ideas he advocated at once, and ever after, as obstinately as george the third insisted on the right to tax america. garrison, of course, was a zealous philanthropist; and he was as conscientious as paul was in persecuting the christians. but he seems to have been more anxious to free his own conscience than to free the slaves. immediate emancipation had been advocated in lundy's paper at much length, and even as early as , but so mildly as to call out little opposition. insisting on no compensation was much more irritating; and garrison's writings show that his mind was apt to free itself in bitter words, even against such men as whittier, channing, longfellow, douglass, and sumner. he had been but three months in baltimore when he published a censure by name of the owner and captain of one of the many vessels which were permitted by law to carry slaves south, as "highway robbers and murderers," who "should be sentenced to solitary confinement for life," and who deserved "to occupy the lowest depths of perdition." he was found guilty of libel, and imprisoned for seven weeks because he could not pay a moderate fine. the money was given by a generous new yorker; but garrison's work in the south was over, and lundy's was of little value thenceforth. the man who brought the libel suit was an influential citizen of massachusetts; and boston pulpits were shut against garrison on his return. he could not pay for a hall; but one was given him without cost by the anti-clerical society, whose leader, abner knee-land, was imprisoned thirty days in for a brief expression of atheism which would not now be considered blasphemous. two weeklies, which were unpopular from the first, began to be published at boston early in . kneeland's _investigator_ was pledged "to contend for the abolition of slavery" and "advocate the rights of women." it was friendly to labour reform as well as to scientific education, and opposed capital punishment, imprisonment for debt, and legislation about religion; but its predominant tone has been skeptical to the present day. garrison was too orthodox in to favour the emancipation of women; he was in sympathy with other reforms; but his chief theme was the "pernicious doctrine of gradual abolition." the next mistake of his _liberator_ was the prominence given to negro insurrection and other crimes against whites. the southerners were naturally afraid to have such subjects mentioned, even in condemnation; and guilty consciences made slave-holders think the danger much greater than it was. the first number of the _liberator_ contained garrison's verses about the horrors of the revolt which might bring emancipation. he announced at the same time that he was going to review a recent pamphlet which he described thus: "a better promoter of insurrection was never sent forth to an oppressed people." his contributors spoke often of the right of slaves to resist, and asked, "in god's name, why should they not cut their masters' throats?" many women and children were massacred by rebel slaves in virginia that autumn; and garrison promptly declared that the assassins "deserve no more blame than our fathers did for slaughtering the british," and that "when the contest shall have again begun, it must again be a war of extermination." similar language was often used in the _liberator_ afterwards. garrison was too firm a non-resistant to go further than this; but the majority of northerners would have agreed with the reverend doctor wayland, president of brown university, who declared slavery "very wicked," but declined to have the _liberator_ sent him, and wrote to mr. garrison that its tendency was to incite the slaves to rebellion. of course this was not the editor's intention; but history deals mainly with causes and results. the consequences were especially bad at the south. calhoun and other democrats were striving to unite all her people in resistance to emancipation, as well as to protectionism. they appealed to the insurrection in , and to the treatment of this subject in the _liberator_, as proofs that abolitionism was incendiary; and the feeling was so intense in georgia, that the governor was authorised by the legislature, before the end of , to offer five thousand dollars for the head of the editor or of any of his agents in that state. southerners were generally provoked at such comparisons of slave-holders to thieves as were often made in the _liberator_ and were incorporated into the formal declaration made by garrison and the other founders of the new england anti-slavery society at boston early in . planters friendly to emancipation were discouraged by garrison's insisting that they ought not to have compensation, an opinion which was adopted by the american anti-slavery society at its organisation at philadelphia in . such protests on moral grounds were of great use to politicians who opposed any grant of money for emancipation, because they wished to preserve slavery. the national constitution provided that emancipation should not take place in any state which did not give its consent; and this was much less attainable in than it had been ten years earlier. so fierce was the hatred of anti-slavery periodicals, that many pounds of them were taken from the charleston post-office and burned by the leading citizens in july, ; and this action was praised by a public meeting, which was attended by all the clergy. the papers were printed in new york, and do not seem to have been destroyed on account of their own mistakes, but of those made by the liberator. southern postmasters refused after this to deliver any anti-slavery matter; and their conduct was approved by the postmaster-general, as well as by the president. the legislatures of north carolina and virginia demanded, in the session of and , that all such publications be suppressed legally by the northern states. south carolina, georgia, and alabama took the same course; and it was agreed everywhere that abolitionists were to be lynched. loyalty to slavery was required of all preachers and editors; no other qualification for every office, in the service either of the nation or of the state, was exacted so strictly; other controversies lost interest; and men who would have gained greatly from the introduction of free labour helped the slave-holders silence those intelligent southerners who knew what urgent need there was in their section of emancipation for the general welfare. garrison, meantime, made both friends and enemies at the north. he had the support of nearly four hundred anti-slavery societies in ; but some of these had been founded in ohio by lundy on the principle of gradual emancipation, and others in new york by jay, whose main objects were repeal of the fugitive slave act and emancipation in the district of columbia. agitation for immediate abolition without compensation was nowhere active at that time, except in new england. the highest estimate of its partisans in was only two hundred thousand; most of them had already renounced the leadership of garrison; and there is no reason to believe that the number of his thorough going followers ever reached one hundred thousand. most of the original abolitionists were church members; and the agitation was never opposed, even at first, by so large a proportion of the clergy at the north as of the people generally. several ministers joined garrison at once; enrolled their names for publication as abolitionists in ; and two years later he had the open support of the new england methodist conference, the maine baptist convention, and the detroit presbytery, as well as of many congregationalists, and of most of the quakers, unitarians, and free-will baptists. preaching against slavery was not common in denominations where the pastor was more liable to be gagged by ecclesiastical superiors. one reason that this authority, as well as that of public opinion in the northern cities, was directed against agitation, was the pressure of business interests. the south sent most of her products, especially cotton, to manufacturers or merchants in philadelphia, new york, and new england. this region in return supplied her with clothes, tools, and furniture. much of her food came from the western farmers; and these latter were so unable to send grain or cattle eastward until after , that the best road for most of them to market was the mississippi. the slave-holders were such good customers, that people along the ohio river, as well as in eastern seaports and factory towns, were slow to see how badly the slaves were oppressed. enlightenment on this subject, as well as about capacity for free labour, was also delayed by prejudices of race and colour, while there was much honest ignorance throughout the north. what was best understood about slavery was that it was merely a state institution, not to be abolished or even much ameliorated by the national government. the main responsibility rested accordingly upon the southern states; and the danger that these might be provoked to secede could not be overlooked. these considerations prevented the majority of the northerners, and especially the leading members of every sect, from opposing slavery as actively as they would otherwise have been glad to do. the most active partisan of the slave-holders was the politician who knew they had votes in congress and in the electoral college for all the whites in the south and also for three-fifths of the coloured people. the views of the democratic party about the tariff, the bank, and state rights had made it in victorious everywhere south of maryland and kentucky; and its preponderance in the cotton states, as well as in virginia, enabled it long to resist the growing disaffection at the north. the whigs went far enough in the same course for their own destruction; and the principle of individual liberty found few champions. vii. politicians and merchants worked together in getting up the series of mobs against abolitionists, which began in , under the lead of a methodist bishop in new york, and kept breaking out in that city, philadelphia, cincinnati, boston, and less important places, until they culminated in the burning of pennsylvania hall in . after that year, they were neither frequent nor violent. the worst crime of the rioters was murdering a clergyman named lovejoy in for trying to save his printing-press. most of the baptist, methodist, and presbyterian preachers and editors were now doing what they could to suppress the agitation; but the riots called out no indignation like that which had poured forth from all the churches in against sunday mails. there was little freedom of speech for unpopular opinions in america in , when channing declared that the mob against garrison had made abolitionism "the cause of freedom." there were many readers, even in the south, for the little book in which he insisted that "slavery ought to be discussed." he protested against depriving the slave of his right to improve and respect himself, and vindicated "the sacredness of individual man." he was the first to appeal from the fugitive slave law to that "everlasting and immutable rule of right revealed in conscience." and few other clergymen gave such help to john quincy adams, who was then asserting the right of petition and of discussion in congress. memorials with a hundred and fifty thousand signatures had been presented against the annexation of texas, and in favour of emancipation in the district of columbia, when it was voted by all the southern representatives, as well as by the northern democrats, in january, , that all petitions relating to slavery "shall be laid on the table and no action taken thereon." the ex-president, who was then a representative from massachusetts, protested indignantly, as did other whigs, and they continued to plead for the constitutional rights of the north until , when the gag-rule was abolished. on july , , adams told the people that "freedom of speech is the only safety-valve which, under the high pressure of slavery, can preserve your political boiler from a fearful explosion." the number of names, including many repetitions, signed in the next two years to anti-slavery petitions was two millions. emancipation in the district of columbia was out of the question, if only because the south chose half the senate. the north was strong enough in the house of representatives to prevent any pro-slavery legislation; and the annexation of texas was actually postponed until , in consequence partly of the petitions and partly of remonstrances from the legislatures of massachusetts, new york, pennsylvania, ohio, and other states. these bodies also protested against the neglect of petitions in congress. the subsidence of mobs after was due to a general feeling at the north, not only that the rioters were too violent, but also that the south was too dictatorial in gagging congress, in tampering with the mails, in asking northern legislatures to suppress public meetings, and in trying to annex texas. viii. on all these points the whigs were so far in advance of the democrats in , as to receive much support from abolitionists. these last, however, were widely and unfortunately divided among themselves. many of the men still called themselves democrats; for the old party which had been founded by jefferson had liberal members, who had formerly been called "fanny wright men," and were now known as "loco focos." a few abolitionists took the gospel aphorisms about non-resistance so blindly as to say it would be a sin for them to vote. garrison renounced the franchise "for conscience" sake and the slave's; but it is hard to see precisely what any slave gained by his friends' refusing to vote for adams, sumner, or lincoln. the most consistent abolitionists voted regularly, and selected a candidate for his work in the cause, without regard to his party record. the democrats took decided ground in the national convention of and afterwards against abolitionism. their nominee, van buren, was then at the head of a corrupt administration. the whig candidate, harrison, was in favour of free speech and honest government. he had been chosen in preference to clay, because of the latter's attacking the abolitionists. another slave-holder who wanted to lynch them, had, however, been nominated by acclamation for vice-president at the whig convention; and the party had no platform. it is hard to see what ought to have been done under these circumstances by abolitionists. some who were afterwards known as "liberty men" set up an independent ticket, headed by a martyr to the cause. they had quite as much right to do this as garrison had to refuse to vote. he had hitherto taken little responsibility for the proceedings of the national society; but when the annual meeting was held at new york in may, , he brought on more than five hundred of his own adherents from new england, in order to pack the convention. thus he secured the passage of a declaration that the independent nominations were "injurious to the cause" and ought not to be supported. garrison has justly been compared to luther, and this was like luther at his worst. most of the officers and members seceded and organised a rival society which did good work in sympathy not only with the liberty men but with the free soilers; and these parties gained most of the new converts to abolitionism. in the _liberator_ published without comment an estimate that it did not represent the views of one active abolitionist in ten; and a coloured clergyman of high ability, dr. garnett, declared in that the proportion was less than one per cent. most of the clergymen who were friendly to garrison before were thenceforth against him. so many pulpits were suddenly closed against the agitators, that one of them, named foster, kept insisting on speaking in meeting without leave in various parts of new england. he was usually dragged out summarily, and often to the injury of his coat-tails, though never of his temper. boston was one of the most strongly anti-slavery cities; but twenty pastors out of forty-four refused to asked the people to pray for a fugitive slave who was imprisoned illegally in . those who complied had comparatively little influence. the rural clergy in new england, new york, michigan, and northern ohio, had much more sympathy with reform than their brethren to the southward, especially in large cities. garrison's personal unpopularity in the churches had been much increased by his violent language against them, and also by his asserting the injustice of sunday laws, as well as the right of women to speak for the slave. his position on these points will be considered later. ix. his worst mistake was the demand, which he published in the _liberator_, in may, , for "a repeal of the union between northern liberty and southern slavery." this he called "essential" for emancipation. in january, , the massachusetts anti-slavery society passed the resolution which was afterwards published regularly in the _liberator_ as the garrisonist creed. it declared the union "a covenant with death and an agreement with hell" which "should be immediately annulled." this position was held by garrison, phillips, and their adherents until . it was largely due, like their refusal to vote, to indignation at the support given to slavery by the national constitution, the fugitive slave act, and some recent legislation at washington. garrison was also confident, as he said at a disunion convention in , that if the south were to secede, she would not "be able to hold a single slave one hour after the deed is done." phillips, too, declared that "all the slave asks of us is to stand out of his way." "let no cement of the union bind the slave, and he will right himself." it is true that secession brought on emancipation; but it would not have done so if phillips and garrison had succeeded in quenching love of the union in the north. that patriotic feeling burst out in a fierce flame; and it was the restoration of the union which abolished slavery. another important fact is that the chief guilt of slavery rested on the south. the national government was only an accessory at worst. no northerner was responsible for any clause in the constitution which he had not sanctioned, or for any action of congress which he had done his best to prevent. the best work against slavery which could be done in and was to defeat a new attempt to annex texas. this scheme was avowedly for the extension of slavery over a great region where it had been prohibited by mexico. there would probably be war with that country; and success would increase the power of the slave-holders in the senate. one half of its members were from the slave states in ; but annexation was rejected in june by a vote of two to one; and the house of representatives was plainly on the same side, though otherwise controlled by the democrats. public warning of the danger to liberty had been given by adams and other whigs in congress early in ; but little heed was taken either by the clergy or by the garrisonists. both were too busy with their own plans. channing died in ; and parker went to europe in september, . it was not until two months later that the _liberator_ found room for texas. garrison never spoke against annexation until too late; and it was scarcely mentioned in the may meetings of at new york and boston, in the one hundred anti-slavery conventions which were held that summer in western new york, ohio, and indiana, with the powerful aid of frederick douglass, or in the one hundred conventions in massachusetts early in . at the may meeting in new york, foster said he should rejoice to see texas annexed; and phillips exulted in the prospect that this would provoke the north to trample on the constitution. annexation had been opposed by three candidates for the presidency: birney, who had already been selected by the "liberty men"; van buren, who was rejected soon after on this account by the democrats; and clay, who had already been accepted by the whigs. all three were formally censured, under various pretexts, in company with john quincy adams, at this and other gatherings of the garrisonians. their convention soon after in boston voted ten to one for disunion, and closed on june st with the presentation to garrison of a red flag bearing on one side the motto, "no union with slave-holders," and on the other an eagle wrapped in the american flag and trampling on a prostrate slave. two months later, and three before the election, this banner was carried through gaily decorated streets in hingham, amid ringing of church bells, to a meeting attended by several thousand disunionists. the garrisonians thought so much about getting out of the union, that they had nothing to say in favour of keeping out texas. among the few abolitionists who saw the duty of the hour were whittier and lowell. the full force of their poetry was not much felt before ; but among the stirring publications early in was a _rallying-cry for new england against the annexation of texas_, which lowell sent forth anonymously. it was reprinted in _harper's weekly_ for april , , but not in the earlier editions of the poems. among the most striking lines are these: "rise up new england, buckle on your mail of proof sublime, your stern old hate of tyranny, your deep contempt of crime. one flourish of a pen, and fetters shall be riveted on millions more of men. one drop of ink to sign a name, and slavery shall find for all her surplus flesh and blood a market to her mind. awake new england! while you sleep, the foe advance their lines, already on your stronghold's wall their bloody banner shines. awake and hurl them back again in terror and despair! the time has come for earnest deeds: we 've not a man to spare." if the whigs had nominated webster that may, on a platform opposing both annexation and disunion, they would have gained more votes at the north than they would have lost at the south. they might possibly have carried that election; and their strength in the border states would have enabled them, sooner or later, to check the extension of slavery without bringing on civil war. their platform was silent about texas, as well as about the union; their chief candidate, clay, had already made compromises in the interest of the south in and ; he did so again in ; and he admitted, soon after the convention, that he "should be glad to see" texas annexed, if it could be done without war. this failure of the whigs to oppose the extension of slavery, together with their having made the tariff highly protective in , cost them so many votes in new york and michigan that they lost the election. negligence and dissension at the north had enabled the south to set aside van buren in favour of polk at the democratic convention. the party was pledged to annex texas; and northern members were appeased by a crafty promise that all which was worth having in british america, west of the rocky mountains, should be acquired also. the declaration in the platform of , that the government ought not "to foster one branch of industry to the detriment of others," was repeated in , as often afterwards, but it was so cunningly explained away in pennsylvania that this state voted for the president who signed the low-tariff bill of . the election of strengthened the influence of the south. texas was soon annexed by the same congress which had refused to do so previously, and was admitted like florida, as a slave state, in spite of remonstrances made by the legislatures of massachusetts and vermont, as well as by two-thirds of the unitarian ministers. in march, , polk's army invaded mexico; her soldiers resisted; the democrats in congress voted that she had begun the war, which lasted for the next eighteen months; and the whigs assented reluctantly. most of the volunteers were southerners, and there was much opposition at the north to warfare for the extension of slavery. the indignation was increased by the publication of whittier's pathetic poem, _the angels of buena vista_, as well as of that series of powerful satires, lowell's _biglow papers_, the greatest achievement of literary genius thus far in america was the creation of _birdofre-dom sawin_; and no book except mrs. stowe's famous novel did so much for emancipation. a foremost place among abolitionists was taken by parker in , when he began to preach in boston. his first sermon against the war with mexico was delivered the same month as the publication of the first of the _biglow papers_, june, . early in he spoke with such severity, at an indignation meeting in faneuil hall, that his life was threatened by drunken volunteers. other preachers that year in massachusetts followed his example so generally as to win praise from the garrisonians, as well as from the most patriotic abolitionists; and great effect was produced by his _letter to the people_, which showed, early in , that slavery was ruining the prosperity, as well as the morals, of the south. more about his work may be found in chapter v. there we shall see how active the transcendentalists were in carrying on the revolt begun by channing. the most important victory for liberty recorded in this chapter was that of over the protectionists. the defeat of the garrisonians was due largely to their mistakes; and there was urgent need of a new anti-slavery movement on broader ground. chapter iv. emancipation the revolutionary movements of did much to encourage love of liberty in america, where the anti-slavery agitation was now becoming prominent in politics. the indignation against the mexican war increased as it was found that nothing would be done to keep the promise of , that great britain should be excluded from the pacific. the purpose of the south, to enlarge the area of slavery but not that of freedom, was so plain that the northern democrats proposed the wilmot proviso, by which slavery would have been forbidden in all territory acquired from mexico; and they actually carried it through the house of representatives, with the help of the whigs, in . similar action was taken by the legislatures of new york, ohio, pennsylvania, delaware, and seven other states. the senate was so unwilling to have slavery prohibited anywhere as to oppose, merely on this account, a bill for giving a territorial government to oregon. i. many of the new york delegates to the national democratic convention in came pledged to "uncompromising hostility to the extension of slavery," and were so badly treated that they withdrew. cass was nominated as a friend to the south; the mexican war was declared "just and necessary"; and abolitionism was denounced, as it had been in and . van buren was nominated soon after by the anti-slavery democrats. a similar movement had already been made by sumner, wilson, and other men who were known as "conscience whigs," and who had some support from clay and webster. both these candidates for the presidency were set aside in favour of a slave-holder, who had been very successful in conquering mexico, but never cast a vote. in fact, general taylor had taken so little interest in politics, that he was supported in the north as a friend, and in the south as an enemy, to the wilmot proviso. no opinion on this or any other question could be extorted from the majority; wilson declared in the convention that he should do all he could to defeat its nominee; the conscience whigs made an alliance with the van buren democrats; and the new movement was joined by the "liberty men," whose vote of sixty thousand had decided the election of . thus was formed the free soil party, whose fundamental idea, like that afterwards held by the republicans, was preservation of the union by checking the extension of slavery. douglass and other garrisonists were present at the free soil convention, where he was invited to speak. the new party pledged itself to "free soil, free speech, free labour, and free men." the national government was to relieve itself of "all responsibility for slavery," and begin by prohibiting its extension. there should be "no more slave states," "no more slave territory," and "no more compromises with slavery." the convention also demanded that oregon should be organised as a territory with free labour only; and this was granted at once by president polk and both houses of congress. most of the members of the convention were transcendental enough to think that wisdom must be spontaneous; and their scorn of political machinery left it to be used for making van buren the candidate. lowell, who was then at his height of productiveness, complained that, "he aint half anti-slav'ry 'nough"; but whittier exclaimed, that september: "now joy and thanks forever more! the dreary night has well-nigh passed: the slumbers of the north are o'er: the giant stands erect at last!" the anti-slavery vote was nearly five times as large as in . cass would have been elected if the free soilers had supported him in new york. their hostility gave that state, as well as vermont and massachusetts, to taylor, who thus became president. he also carried georgia and seven other southern states; but the west was solidly democratic. it was not an anti-slavery victory, but a pro-slavery defeat. ii. the first question before the new president and congress was about california. the discovery of gold, before the country was ceded by mexico, had brought in crowds of settlers, but scarcely any slaves. unwillingness to have another free state prevented polk and his senate from allowing california to have any better government than a military one; and this was deprived of all authority by the desertion of the soldiers to the diggings. the settlers knew the value of a free government, and made one independently. the constitution which they completed in october, , was so anti-slavery that it was not sanctioned for nearly two years by congress. meantime there was no legal authority in california to levy taxes, or organise fire departments, or arrest criminals. robberies and conflagrations were numerous; the mushroom cities were not graded, paved, or lighted; the uncertainty of titles to land caused fights in which lives were lost; and criminals became so desperate that several were lynched by a vigilance committee. the duty of admitting california as a free state was urged upon the new congress in december, , by taylor, who promised to make an unexpectedly good president. this plan had become so popular at the north that it was recommended by the democratic state conventions of massachusetts and wisconsin, as well as by the legislature of every northern state, except iowa. the house of representatives could easily have been carried; for the whigs and free soilers constituted a majority, and would have had some help from northern democrats. the senate would probably not have consented until after another appeal to the people; but this might have been made with success at the elections of . taylor had carried kentucky, tennessee, louisiana, florida, georgia, north carolina, maryland, and delaware. the last two states had permitted some free soil votes to be cast; this was also the case in virginia; and anti-slavery meetings had been held publicly in st. louis. the pro-slavery defeat in encouraged southerners who knew the advantage of free labour to agitate for emancipation. the convention held for this purpose in kentucky, in , was attended by delegates from twenty-four counties; and its declaration that slavery was "injurious to the prosperity of the commonwealth," was endorsed by southern newspapers. clay himself proposed a plan of gradual emancipation; and such a measure was called for, according to the _richmond southerner_ (quoted in hoist's _constitutional history_, vol. iii., p. ), by "two-thirds of the people of virginia." admissions that "kentucky must be free," that "delaware and maryland are now in a transition, preparatory to becoming free states," and that "emancipation is inevitable in all the farming states, where free labour can be advantageously used," were published in , at new orleans, in de bow's _industrial resources of the southern and western states_ (vols. i., p. ; ii., p. ; hi., p. ). a book which was written soon after by a north carolinian named helper, and denounced violently in congress, shows how much those southerners who did not hold slaves would have gained by emancipation; and what was so plainly for the interest of the majority of the voters would have been established by them, sooner or later, if it had not been for the breaking out of civil war. how much danger there was, even in , to slave-holders is shown by their threats to secede. they wished to increase the hostility between north and south in order to check the spread southwards of northern views. it was in this spirit that senators and representatives from the cotton states demanded a more efficient law for returning fugitives. most of the thirty thousand then at the north had come from maryland, virginia, kentucky, and missouri; and these states were invited to act with their southern neighbours against abolitionism. there were very few secessionists at this time, except in south carolina, mississippi, and texas. president taylor was so popular at the south, and so avowedly ready to take command himself against rebels, that no army could have been raised to resist him. webster declared, in february, , that there was no danger of secession; and the same opinion was held by benton of missouri, seward, and other senators. there was not enough alarm at the north to affect the stock-market. all that the whigs needed to do for the union was to sustain it with all the strength which they could use for that purpose at the south. if they had also insisted that california should be admitted unconditionally, they would soon have had support enough from northern democrats in congress. the demand for a national party of freedom was urgent. the free soilers were too sectional; but the whigs had so much influence at the south that they could have checked the extension of slavery without bloodshed; and this would have ensured the progress of emancipation. iii. all this might have been done if clay's hatred of the abolitionists, who had refused to make him president, had not made him try to cripple them by another compromise. he proposed that california should be admitted at once and without slavery; that it should be left to the settlers in utah and new mexico to decide whether these territories should ultimately become free or slave states; that texas should receive a large sum of money, as well as a great tract of land which she had threatened to take from new mexico by force; and, worst of all, that a new fugitive-slave bill should be passed. the law then on the statute books left the question whether the defendant should be enslaved to be decided by a magistrate elected by the people or appointed by the governor; and the court was so apt to be restricted by local legislation or public opinion, that recovery of fugitives was practically impossible in new england. the new law retained the worst provision of the old one; namely, that no jury could be asked to decide whether the defendant had ever been a slave. the principal change was that the judge was to come into such close relations with the national administration as to be independent of the people of the state. in short, fugitive slaves were to be punished, and disloyal texans rewarded, in order that california might get her rights. this plan was approved by webster, who hoped that the grateful south would make him president, and then help him restore those protective duties which had been removed in . other northerners called the compromise one-sided; and so did men from those cotton states which were to gain scarcely anything. president taylor would yield nothing to threats of rebellion. it was not until after his death that clay's proposals could be carried through congress; and it was necessary to present them one by one. the bill by which california was admitted, in september, , was sandwiched in between those about texas and the fugitives. the latter were put under a law by which their friends were liable to be fined or imprisoned; but the new fugitive slave act had only three votes from the northern whigs in the house of representatives; and there were only four senators who actually consented to all clay's propositions. the compromise seemed at first to have silenced both secessionists and abolitionists. the latter were assailed by worse mobs in boston and new york than had been the case in these cities for many years. the rioters were sustained by public opinion; enthusiastic union meetings were held in the large cities; and webster's course was praised by leading ministers of all denominations, even the unitarian. abolitionism had apparently been reduced to such a position that it could lead to nothing but civil war. parker complained, in may, , that the clergy were deserting the cause. phillips spoke at this time as if there were no anti-slavery ministers left. i once heard friendly hearers interrupt him by shouting out names like parker's and beecher's. he smiled, and began counting up name after name on the fingers of his left hand; but he soon tossed it up, and said with a laugh, "i have not got one hand full yet." webster's friends boasted that satan was trodden underfoot; but the compromise was taken as an admission by the whigs that their party had cared too little about slavery. many of its adherents went over, sooner or later, to the democratic party, which had at least the merit of consistency. about half of the free soilers deserted what seemed to be a lost cause; but few if any went back to help the whigs. the latter did not elect even three-fourths as many members of congress in november, , as they did in ; and they fared still worse in . democratic aid enabled the free soilers in to send sumner to represent them in the senate, in company with hale and chase. seward had already been sent there by the anti-slavery whigs, and had met webster's plea for the constitutionality of the new fugitive slave law by declaring that "there is a higher law than the constitution." sumner maintained in washington, as he had done in boston, that the constitution as well as the moral law forbade helping kidnappers. he was never a disunionist; but he insisted that "unjust laws are not binding"; and he was supported by the mighty influence of emerson. the effects of transcendentalism will be so fully considered in the next chapter but one, that i need speak here merely of what it did to encourage resistance to the new law which made philanthropy a crime. the penalties on charity to fugitives were so severe as to call out much indignation from the rural clergy at the north. in november, , the methodist ministers of new york city agreed to demand the repeal of the law; and parker wrote to fillmore, who had been made president by taylor's death, that among eighty protestant pastors in boston there were not five who would refuse hospitality to a slave. the first hunters of men who came there met such a resistance that they did not try to capture the fugitives. a negro who was arrested was taken by coloured friends from the court-house; and a second rescue was prevented only by filling the building with armed hirelings, surrounding it with heavy chains under which the judges were obliged to stoop, and finally calling out the militia to guard the victim through the streets of boston. a slaveholder who was supposed to be trying to drag his own son back to bondage, was shot dead by coloured men in pennsylvania. other fugitives were rescued in milwaukee and syracuse. the new law lost much of its power in twelve months of such conflicts; and it was reduced almost to a dead letter by personal liberty bills, which were enacted in nearly every northern state. the compromise was not making the north and south friends, but enemies. the hostility was increased by the publication of the most influential book of the century. _uncle tom's cabin_ had attracted much attention as a serial; and three thousand copies were sold on the day it appeared in book form, march , . there was a sale that year of two hundred thousand copies, which were equally welcome in parlour, nursery, and kitchen. dramatic versions had a great run; and one actress played "little eva" at more than three hundred consecutive performances. some of the most effective scenes were intended to excite sympathy with fugitive slaves. the total number of votes for all parties did not increase one-third as fast between and as between and , when many of "uncle tom's" admirers went to the polls for the first time. the whigs were so much ashamed of their party, that they permitted every state, except massachusetts, vermont, kentucky, and tennessee to be carried by the democrats. the latter had the advantage, not only of unity and consistency as regards slavery, but of having made their low tariff so much of a success that there was another reduction in . the two parties had been made nearly equal in congress by the election of ; but the proportion was changed four years later, to two to one, and the beaten party soon went to pieces. the free soil candidates and platform were singularly good in ; yet the vote was but little more than one-half as large as in . there was no election between and when anti-slavery votes seemed so little likely to do any immediate good. the compromise looked like an irreparable error; and many reformers thought they could do nothing better than vote with the democrats for free trade. iv. the victors in might have had many years of supremacy, if they had kept true to the jeffersonian principle of state rights. they were consistent in holding that the position of coloured people in each state ought to be determined by the local majority. the rights of northerners had been invaded by the new law, which forbade hospitality to fugitives and demanded participation in kidnapping; but this wrong might have been endured if the south had not denied the right of kansas to become a free state. this was guaranteed by the compromise of , which had been kept by the north. early in , senator douglas of illinois proposed that the compact should be repudiated, and that it should be left for future settlers to decide whether there should be freedom or slavery in a region ten times as large as massachusetts, with a fertile soil and a climate warm enough for negro labour. there was such prompt and intense indignation throughout the north at this breach of faith, that douglas said he could find his way from chicago to boston by the light of the bonfires in which he was burned in effigy. the difference of opinion between city and country clergy ceased at once. an episcopalian bishop headed the remonstrance which was signed by nearly every minister in new york city. two other bishops signed the new england protest in company with the presidents of yale, brown, williams, and amherst, with the leaders of every protestant sect, and with so many other clergymen that the sum total rose above three thousand, which was four-fifths of the whole number. five hundred ministers in the north-west signed a remonstrance which douglas was obliged to present; and so many such memorials came in from all the free states, as to show that there was very little pro-slavery feeling left among the clergy, except in the black belt north of the ohio. one-half of the northern democrats in the house of representatives refused to follow douglas. leading men from all parties united to form the new one, which took the name of republican on july , , and gained control of the next house of representatives. it was all the more popular because it began "on the sole basis of the non-extension of slavery." victory over the south could be gained only by uniting the north; but garrison still kept on saying, "if we would see the slave-power overthrown, the union must be dissolved." on july , , two days before the republican party adopted its name, he burned the constitution of the united states amid several thousand spectators. then it was that thoreau publicly denied his allegiance to massachusetts, which was already doing its best to save kansas. emigrants from new england were sent into that territory so rapidly that the douglas plan seemed likely to hasten the time when it would be a free state. the south had insisted on the rights of the settlers; but they were outvoted, in november, , and afterwards, by bands of armed missourians, who marched off when they had carried the election. the free state men were then supplied with rifles; and an anti-slavery constitution was adopted by the majority of actual residents. the minority were supported by the president, as well as by the "border-ruffians"; two rival governments were set up; and civil war began early in . lawrence, the principal town in kansas, was sacked by command of the united states marshal, the most important buildings burned, and much private property stolen. five settlers, whose threats of violence had offended john brown, were slain in cold blood by him and his men, in retaliation for the lawrence outrage, in may, . anarchy continued; but the new state was not admitted until . prominent among the northerners who insisted on the right of kansas to govern herself, was sumner. his speech in the senate in may, , was so powerful that half a million copies were printed as campaign literature, and whittier said, "it has saved the country." the orator had attacked some of his colleagues with needless severity; and on the day after the sack of lawrence, he was assaulted by a representative from south carolina in the senate chamber with such ferocity that he could not return to his seat before . this cruel outrage against freedom of speech was universally applauded throughout the south. there was indignation enough at the north in to have given the election to the republicans, if the field had been clear; but protestant bigotry enabled the south to choose the president who failed to oppose rebellion. the catholics had objected as early as to the protestantism which was taught, in part at their expense, to their children in the public schools. some ways in which this was done then have since been abandoned; but the principal controversy has been about using a book which is universally acknowledged to be a bulwark of protestantism. there would not be so much zeal at present for having it read daily in the schools, if it has no religious influence; and our catholic citizens have a right to prefer that their children should be taught religion in ways not forbidden by their church. pupils have not had much moral or even religious benefit from school-books against which their conscience rebelled, however unreasonably. the catholic position in , according to bishop hughes, afterwards archbishop, was this: "we do not ask money from the school fund;--all our desire is that it should be administered in such a way as to promote the education of all" and "leave the various denominations each in the full possession of its religious rights over the minds of its own children. if the children are to be educated promiscuously, as at present, let religion in every shape and form be excluded." the catholics soon changed their ground, and demanded that their parochial schools should be supported by public money. this called out the opposition of a secret society, which insisted on keeping the bible in the schools and excluding catholics from office. the know nothings had the aid of so many whigs in as to elect a large number of candidates, most of whom were friendly to the republicans. the leaders wished to remain neutral between north and south; but it is hard to say whether the pledge of loyalty to the union did not facilitate the capture of the organisation by the insatiable south early in . beecher had already declared that the know nothing lodges were "catacombs of freedom" in which indignation against slavery was stifled. the presidential election showed that the outburst of bigotry had done more harm to friends than enemies of liberty. the democrats lost maryland, but gained pennsylvania and four other northern states. this enabled them to retain the presidency and the senate, as well as to recover the house of representatives, where they had become weaker than the republicans. the party of freedom polled eight times as many votes as in , and made its first appearance in the electoral colleges. it carried eleven states. the whigs had accepted the know nothing nominee; and both these neutral parties soon dissolved. anarchy in kansas had been suppressed by united states dragoons; but they did not prevent the adoption of a pro-slavery constitution by bogus elections. buchanan promptly advised congress to admit kansas as a slave state, and declared she was already as much one as georgia or south carolina. this opinion he based on the dred scott decision by the supreme court, that congress had no power to prohibit slavery in any territory. douglas insisted on the right of the people of kansas to "vote slavery up or down." they were enabled by the joint efforts of republicans and northern democrats to have a fair chance to say whether they wished to become a slave state or remain a territory; and the latter was preferred by four-fifths of the voters. v. the south called douglas a traitor; but leading republicans helped the illinois democrats, in , to elect the legislature which gave him another term in the senate. he might have become the next president if his opponent in the senatorial contest, abraham lincoln, had not led the republican party into the road towards emancipation. on june , , he said, in the state convention: "a house divided against itself cannot stand. i believe this government cannot endure permanently half slave and half free. i do not expect the union to be dissolved--i do not expect the house to fall--but i do expect it will cease to be divided. it will become all one thing or all the other." seward took the same position, four months later, in his speech about the "irrepressible conflict." lincoln held that summer and autumn a series of joint debates with his opponent, before audiences one of which was estimated at twenty thousand. the speeches were circulated by the republicans as campaign documents; and lincoln's were remarkable, not only for his giving no needless provocation to the south, but for his proving that slavery ought not to be introduced into any new territory or state by local elections. he represented douglas as really holding that if one man chooses to enslave another no third man has any business to interfere; and he repudiated the decision in the dred scott case, that coloured people "had no rights which the white man was bound to respect." he had more votes that fall than douglas; but the latter's friends were enabled by the district system to control the legislature. douglas was sent back to the senate. lincoln gained the national reputation which made him president. the congressional elections were more favourable to the republicans than in , for northern indignation was growing under the stimulus, not only of the new wrong to kansas, but of attempts to annex cuba and revive the slave trade. plans for emancipation were still discussed in the south; and the agitation had reached even texas. helper's _impending crisis_ had gained circulation enough in his own state, north carolina, to alarm the slaveholders. they knew that they constituted only three-tenths of the southern voters, and that the proportion was less than one-sixth in maryland. helper proved that emancipation would be greatly to the advantage of many men who held slaves, as well as of all who did not. when this was found out by the majority in any southern state, slavery would begin to fall by its own weight. it had been kept up by popular ignorance; but the prop was crumbling away. this way of emancipation might have been long; but it would have led to friendly relations between whites and blacks, as well as between north and south. what was most needed in was that all friends of freedom should work together, and that no needless pretext should be given for secession. garrison still insisted on disunion, and predicted that the south would not "be able to hold a single slave one hour after the deed is done," but he also maintained, as most abolitionists did, that nothing would be more foolish than trying to excite a slave insurrection. precisely this greatest of blunders was committed at harper's ferry. if the attempt had been made six months later, or had had even a few weeks of success, it might have enabled the slaveholders to elect at least one more president. the bad effect, in dividing the north, was much diminished by john brown's heroism at his trial and execution; but great provocation was given to the south, and especially to virginia, which soon turned out to be the most dangerous of the rebel states. business men were driven north by the dozen from cities which were preparing for war. the quarrel between northern and southern democrats kept growing fiercer; and the party broke up at the convention for into two sectional factions with antagonistic platforms and candidates. douglas still led the opposition to those southerners who maintained that the nation ought to protect slavery in the territories. a third ticket was adopted by neutrals who had been whigs or know nothings, and who now professed no principle but a vague patriotism. the republicans remained pledged to exclude slavery from the territories; but they condemned john brown, and said nothing against the fugitive slave law or in favour of emancipation in the district of columbia. their leaders had favoured free trade in ; but the platform was now made protectionist, in order to prevent pennsylvania from being carried again by the democrats. illinois and indiana were secured by the nomination of lincoln. he was supported enthusiastically by the young men throughout the north: public meetings were large and frequent; torchlight processions were a prominent feature of the campaign. the wealth and intellect of the nation, as well as its conscience, were now arrayed against slavery; but the clergy are said to have been less active than in . lincoln had the majority in every northern state, except new jersey, california, and oregon. he also had , votes in missouri, and in other slave states which had sent delegates to the republican convention. not one of the southern electors was for lincoln; but he would have become president if all his opponents had combined against him. vi. the south had nothing to fear from congress before , but she had lost control of the north. kansas would certainly be admitted sooner or later; and there would never be another slave state, for the republican plan for the territories was confirmed by their geographical position. the free states might soon become so numerous and populous as to prohibit the return of fugitives, abolish slavery in the district of columbia, repeal the clause of the constitution which allowed representation for slaves, and forbid their transportation from state to state. it was also probable, in the opinion of salmon p. chase, afterwards secretary of the treasury, and of many leading southerners, that under federal patronage there might soon be a majority for emancipation in maryland, kentucky, and other states (see _life of theodore parker_, by weiss, vol. ii., pp. , ). the vote of thanks given to parker in by the hearers of his anti-slavery lecture in delaware, showed that abolitionism would eventually become predominant in the senate, as it was already in the house of representatives. this prospect was especially alarming to the comparatively few men who owned so many slaves that they could not afford emancipation on any terms. their wealth and leisure gave them complete control of politics, business, public opinion, and social life in the cotton states; where both press and pulpit were in bondage. their influence was much less in the farming states than in ; but they had since come into such perfect union among themselves, as to constitute the most powerful aristocracy then extant. their number may be judged from the fact that there were in about six thousand people in the cotton states who owned fifty slaves or more each. it was in the interest of these barons of slavery that south carolina seceded soon after the election, and that her example was followed by georgia and all the gulf states before lincoln was inaugurated. the garrisonists wished to have them depart in peace; but there was a strong and general preference for another compromise. lincoln and other republicans insisted that the territories should be kept sacred to freedom, and that "the union must be preserved." the question was settled by those aggressions on national property which culminated in the bombardment of fort sumter. lincoln's call to arms was answered by a great uprising of the united north. loyalty to the nation burst forth in so fierce a flame that abolitionists who had been trying for many years to extinguish it now welcomed it as the destined destroyer of slavery. war had been declared for the sole purpose of suppressing rebellion; and nothing more could at first have been attempted without violating the constitution. fugitives were sent back promptly by federal generals, and anti-slavery songs forbidden in the camps. this policy seemed necessary to keep the north united, and prevent secession of doubtful states. some of those already in revolt might thus, it was hoped, be induced to return voluntarily, or be conquered easily. these expectations were soon disappointed. a few of the slave states were kept in subjection by military force; but the people of the others united in a desperate resistance, with the aid of the slaves, who supplied the armies with food and laboured without complaint in camps and forts. but little was accomplished by the immense armies raised at the north; for the discipline was at first lax, and the generals were inefficient. many defeats of union armies by inferior forces showed how difficult it is for a nation that has enjoyed many years of peace to turn conqueror. vii. the innate incompatibility of war and liberty was disclosed by the unfortunate fact that even lincoln was obliged to consent unwillingly to war measures of a very questionable sort; for instance, the conscription and that legal tender act which was really a forced loan, and which has done much to encourage subsequent violations of the right of property by both republicans and democrats in congress. more harm than good was done to the union cause by arbitrary arrests for talking and writing against the war. phillips declared, in december, , that "the right of free meetings and a free press is suspended in every square mile of the republic." "at this moment one thousand men are bastilled." hale and other republican senators remonstrated; and so patriotic an author as holmes said that teapots might be dangerous, if the lids were shut. all political prisoners but spies were released by the president early in ; and there were no more arbitrary arrests except under plea of military necessity. failures of union generals encouraged opposition to the war from men who still preferred compromise; and their disaffection was increased by the passage, in march, , of a bill establishing a conscription and putting all the people under martial law. the commander of the military district that included ohio issued orders which forbade "declaring sympathy for the enemy," and threatened with death "all persons within our lines who harbour, protect, feed, clothe, or in any way aid the enemies." these orders were denounced as unconstitutional at a public meeting before more than ten thousand citizens. many wore badges cut from the large copper coins then in use and bearing the sacred image and superscription of liberty. this practice brought the nickname "copperheads" upon people who longed to have the south invited back on her own terms. such a policy was recommended at the meeting by vallandigham, who had recently represented ohio in congress. he called upon the people to vote against the "wicked war," and said he would never obey orders aimed against public discussion. for this speech he was arrested at night, by soldiers who broke into his house, tried by court-martial, and sentenced on may , , to imprisonment during the remainder of the war. a writ of _habeas corpus_ was refused by the united states court, which admitted itself "powerless to enforce obedience." at the clang of war, laws are silent. indignation meetings in great cities voted that "the union cannot be restored without freedom of speech." loyal newspapers regretted that vallandigham was under "a penalty which will make him a martyr." a petition for his release was sent to lincoln, who had not ordered the arrest and admitted that it was not justified by the speech. he concluded that the culprit's behaviour towards the army had been so dangerous that he had better be sent south, beyond the lines. this was done at once; but the agitator was allowed to return through canada in the last summer of the war. even lincoln found it difficult to respect individual liberty under the pressure of military necessity. a strong government was needed; and that fact has opened the way for congress to interfere with private business, for instance in changing the tariff, during the latter part of the century much more frequently and extensively than had been done before. another significant fact is that the old controversy about internal improvements has died away since our government was centralised by war; and much money is wasted under that pretext by congress. viii. the impossibility of putting down the rebellion without interfering with slavery gradually became plain, even to men who had formerly hated abolitionism. the only question was how to turn what was the strength of the confederacy into its weakness. in march, , congress forbade the army to return fugitives; and many thousand fled into the union camps, where they did good service, not only as teamsters and labourers, but even as soldiers. the number under arms amounted finally to more than a hundred thousand; and they did some of the best fighting that took place during the war. the colour prejudice at the north yielded slowly; but the leading republicans saw not only the need of more soldiers, but the justice of setting free the wives and children of men who were risking death for the nation. an emancipation league was formed during the first gloomy winter of the war; and frederick douglass said on the fourth of july amid great applause: "you must abolish slavery, or abandon the union"; "for slavery is the life of the rebellion." lincoln was already thinking of setting free the slaves in all the states which should continue in rebellion after the close of the year; and his draft of a proclamation, announcing this purpose, was read to the cabinet on july , . the army in virginia had been so unfortunate that summer as to cause a postponement; but the victory of antietam was followed by the publication, on september d, of the formal notice that emancipation might be proclaimed on the st of january. how welcome the new policy was to loyal citizens may be judged from the approbation expressed by the clergy of all denominations, even the new school presbyterian, episcopalian, and roman catholic. when new year's day dawned there was much doubt whether the promise would be fulfilled. abolitionists and coloured people met in boston and other cities, and waited hour after hour, hoping patiently. it was evening before the proclamation began to pass over the wires. it promised freedom to all slaves in arkansas, texas, mississippi, alabama, florida, georgia, south carolina, and north carolina, besides most of those in louisiana and virginia. tennessee and some other states were not mentioned, because held to have been brought back into the union. there was to be freedom thenceforth wherever the stars and stripes waved. no wonder that the news caused great audiences to shout or weep with joy, and many to spend the night in praise and prayer. the north was now inspired by motives amply sufficient to justify even a war of conquest; and her men and money were given freely, until superiority in resources enabled general grant to close the war in april, . the revolted states came back, one by one, and left slavery behind. even where it had not been formally abolished, it was practically extinct. douglass was right in saying "it was not the destruction, but the salvation of the union, that saved the slave." an amendment to the constitution, which swept away the last vestiges of slavery, and made it for ever impossible in the united states, was adopted on december , . it had been proposed two years before; but the assent of several states then actually in revolt would have been necessary to secure the majority of three-fourths necessary for adoption of an amendment. it was by no means certain that even the nominally loyal states would all vote unanimously for emancipation. in order to increase the majority for the thirteenth amendment, the admission of nevada and colorado as states was voted by congress, despite some opposition by the democrats, in march, . nevada had a population of less than , in . there were not , people there in , and there had been a decline since . it is not likely that her inhabitants will ever be numerous enough to justify her having as much power in the senate as new york or pennsylvania. senators who represent millions of constituents have actually been prevented from passing necessary laws by senators who did not represent even twenty-five thousand people each. nevada is still the worst instance of such injustice; but it is by no means the only one; and these wrongs can never be righted, for the constitution provides that. "no state, without its consent, shall be deprived of its equal suffrage in the senate." the thirteenth amendment did not, i think, come into force a day earlier than it would have done if nevada had never been admitted, for the _bona-fide_ states came forward with unexpected willingness. colorado was not fully admitted before . lincoln's favouring the bills for admitting these states was a serious error, though the motive was patriotic. his beauty and grandeur of character make the brightest feature of those dark, sad years. no name stands higher among martyrs for freedom. ix. there is no grander event in all history than the emancipation of four million slaves. this was all the more picturesque because done by a conquering army; but it was all the more hateful to the former owners. they refused to educate or enfranchise the freedmen, and tried to reduce them to serfdom by heavy taxes and cruel punishments for petty crimes. the states which had seceded were kept under military dictators after the war was over; and their people were forced to accept the fourteenth amendment, which gave protection to coloured people as citizens of the united states. in there were twenty-one northern states; but only maine, new hampshire, and vermont gave the ballot freely to illiterate negroes without property. massachusetts had an educational test for all voters; there were other restrictions elsewhere; and no coloured men could vote in pennsylvania, new jersey, or the north-west. in fact, very few had ever voted anywhere when congress gave the suffrage to all the freed men for their own protection, with no discrimination against illiteracy. the result of this measure in the district of columbia was that unscrupulous politicians gained strong support from needy and ignorant voters of all colours. public money was spent recklessly; taxation became oppressive; and the public debt grew to alarming size. on june , , when grant was president and each branch of congress was more than two-thirds republican, the house of representatives voted, ten to one, in favour of taking away the suffrage, not only from the blacks who had received it seven years before, but even from the whites who had exercised it since the beginning of the century. all local government was entrusted to three commissioners appointed by the president and confirmed by the senate. there was no opposition; for the arrangement seemed only temporary. it proved permanent. even taxation without representation has been thought better than negro suffrage; and the citizens of the national capital remain in without any voice in their own municipal government. the problem has been still more difficult in those eleven states which had to accept negro suffrage, in or after , as a condition of restoration to the union. the extension of franchise made in all the states by the fifteenth amendment, in , seemed such a blessing to the republicans that frederick douglass was much censured for holding that it might possibly have been attained without special supernatural assistance. it soon became plain, however, that congress ought to have given the spelling-book earlier than the ballot. the suffrage proved no protection to the freedman; for his white neighbours found that he could be more easily intimidated than educated. congress tried to prevent murder of coloured voters by having the polls guarded by federal troops and the elections supervised by united states marshals. the _habeas corpus_ act was suspended by president grant in districts where the blacks outnumbered the whites. it was hard to see what liberty had gained. the negro's worst enemies were his own candidates. they had enormous majorities in south carolina; and there, as blaine admits, they "brought shame upon the republican party," "and thus wrought for the cause of free government and equal suffrage in the south incalculable harm." between and they added ten millions by wanton extravagance to the state debt. large sums were stolen; taxes rose to six per cent.; and land was assessed far above its value, with the avowed purpose of taking it away from the whites. such management was agreed at a public meeting of coloured voters under federal protection, in charleston, in , to have "ruined our people and disgraced our state." negro suffrage was declared by the new york evening post to have resulted in "organising the ignorance and poverty of the state against its property and intelligence." this took place all over the south, and also in philadelphia, new york, and other northern cities. here the illiterate vote was largely european; and the corruption of politics was facilitated by the absorption of property-holders in business. there was great need that intelligent citizens of all races, parties, and sections should work together to reform political methods sufficiently to secure honest government. some progress has already been made, but by no means so much as might have been gained if the plundered taxpayers at the south had made common cause with those at the north in establishing constitutional bulwarks against all swindlers whose strength was in the illiterate and venal vote. unfortunately, prejudice against negroes encouraged intimidation; and fraud was used freely by both parties. when elections were doubted, republican candidates were seated by federal officials and united states soldiers. these latter were not resisted; but the southern democrats made bloody attacks on the negro militia. one such fight at new orleans, on september , , cost nearly thirty lives. what was called a republican administration collapsed that day throughout louisiana; but it was soon set up again by the army which had brought it into power. at last the negroes found out that, whoever might conquer in this civil war, they would certainly lose. they grew tired of having hostile parties fighting over them, and dropped out of politics. the republicans held full possession of the presidency, both branches of congress, the federal courts, the army, the offices in the nation's service, and most of the state governments; but they could not prevent the south from becoming solidly democratic. the new governments proved more economical, and the lives of the coloured people more secure. the last important result of negro suffrage in south carolina and louisiana was an alarming dispute as to who was elected president in . the ballot has not been so great a blessing to the freedmen as it might have been if it had been preceded by national schools, and given voluntarily by state after state. these considerations justify deep regret that emancipation was not gained peaceably and gradually. facts have been given to show that it might have been if there had been more philanthropy among the clergy, more principle among the whigs, and more wisdom among the abolitionists. chapter v. emerson and other transcendentalists i. the best work for liberty has been done by men who loved her too wisely to vituperate anyone for differing from them, or to forestall the final verdict of public opinion by appealing to an ordeal by battle. such were the men who took the lead in establishing freedom of thought in america. very little individual independence of opinion was found there by tocqueville in ; and the flood of new ideas which had already burst forth in england was not as yet feeding the growth of originality in american literature. this sterility was largely due to preoccupation with business and politics; but even the best educated men in the united states were repressed by the dead weight of the popular theology; and channing complained that the orthodox churches were "arrayed against intellect." the silence of the pulpit about slavery is only one instance of the general indifference of the clergy to new ideas. we shall see that at least one other reform was opposed much more zealously. the circulation of new books and magazines from europe was retarded by warnings against infidelity; and colleges were carefully guarded against the invasion of new truth. intercourse with europe was fortunately close enough for the brightness of her literature and art to attract many longing eyes from new england. goethe, schiller, fichte, jean paul, mme. de stâel, and rousseau won readers in the original, as well as in translations; and the influence of shelley, wordsworth, coleridge, and carlyle increased rapidly. plato and kant found many worshippers, and a few students. the plain incapacity of orthodoxy to solve the pressing moral and intellectual problems of the day permitted young people who knew nothing about science to welcome the idea that the highest truth is revealed by intuitions which transcend experience and should supersede logic. this system is peculiarly that of schelling, who was then expounding it in germany; but the credit for it in america was given to his disciples, and especially to coleridge. a few admirers of these authors formed the transcendental club in boston, in september, ; and the new philosophy made converts rapidly. severity of climate and lack of social amusements favoured introspection. thinkers welcomed release from the tyranny of books. lovers of art were glad of the prospect of a broader culture than was possible in the shadow of puritanism. reformers seized the opportunity of appealing from pro-slavery texts and constitutions to a higher law. friends of religion hoped that the gloom of the popular theology would be dispelled by a new revelation coming direct from god into their souls. ii. a mighty declaration of religious independence was made on july , , when emerson said to the unitarian ministers: "the need was never greater of new revelation than now." "it cannot be received at second hand." there has been "noxious exaggeration about the person of jesus." "cast aside all conformity, and acquaint men at first hand with deity." "the old is for slaves." much controversy was called out by the publication of this address. it was preceded by another in which educated men were told that they must believe themselves "inspired by the divine soul which inspires all men." "there can be no scholar without the heroic mind." "each age must write its own books." emerson had also sent out in a pamphlet entitled _nature_; and one of its first readers has called it "an 'open sesame' to all thought, and the first we had ever had." still more important were the essays on "heroism" and "self-reliance," which were part of a volume published in . then emerson's readers were awakened from the torpor of submission to popular clergymen and politicians by the stern words: "whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist." "insist on yourself: never imitate." "the soul looketh steadily forwards." "it is no follower: it never appeals from itself." the russian government was so well aware of the value of these essays as to imprison a student for borrowing them. a lord mayor in england acknowledged that their influence had raised him out of poverty and obscurity. bradlaugh's first impulse to do battle for freedom in religion came from emerson's exhortation to self-reliance. the author's influence was all the greater, because he was already an impressive lecturer. there was much more demand, both in england and in america, between and , for literary culture and useful knowledge than was supplied by the magazines and public libraries. the americans were peculiarly destitute of public amusements. dancing, playing cards, and going to the theatre were still under the ban; and there was not yet culture enough for concerts to be popular. there was at the same time much more interest, especially in new england, in the anti-slavery movement than has been called out for later reforms; for these have been much less picturesque. the power with which phillips and parker pleaded for the slave was enough to make lectures popular; but i have known courses attended, even in , by young people who went merely because there was nowhere else to go, and who came away in blissful ignorance of the subjects. deeper than all other needs lay that of a live religion. emerson was among the first to satisfy this demand. his earliest lecture, in , took a scientific subject, as was then customary; but he soon found that he had the best possible opportunity for declaring that "from within, or from behind, a light shines through upon things and makes us aware that we are nothing, but the light is all." invitations were frequent as early as , though the audience was usually small; and his genius became generally recognised after his return, in , from a visit to england. there scholarship was high enough to give him, as early as , thousands of readers for that little book on _nature_, of which only a few hundred copies had been sold in america. invitations to lecture came from all parts of great britain, and in such numbers that many had to be declined. the aristocracy of rank as well as of intellect helped to crowd the halls in manchester, edinburgh, and london. once at least, he had more than two thousand hearers. the newspapers reported his lectures at such length that much of his time was spent in writing new ones. he had not intended to be anyone's guest; but invitations were so numerous and cordial, that he could seldom escape into solitude. he wrote to his wife, "my reception here is really a premium on authorship." success in england increased his opportunities, as well as his courage, to speak in america. invitations grew more and more frequent, and compensation more liberal. his thrilling voice was often heard, thenceforth, in the towns and cities of new england. in , he went to lecture at st. louis, and met audience after audience on the way. during the next twenty years he spent at least two months of discomfort, every winter, lecturing in city after city throughout the free states. everywhere he gave his best thought, and as much as possible of it, in every lecture. logical order seemed less important; and he spent much more time in condensing than in arranging the sentences selected from his note-books. strikingly original ideas, which had flashed upon him at various times, were presented one after another as if each were complete in itself. the intermixture of quotations and anecdotes did not save the general character from becoming often chaotic; but the chaos was always full of power and light. star after star rose rapidly upon his astonished and delighted hearers. they sometimes could not understand him; but they always felt lifted up. parker described him in as pouring forth "a stream of golden atoms of thought"; and lowell called him some twenty years later "the most steadily attractive lecturer in america." these young men and others of like aspirations walked long distances to visit him or hear him speak in public. the influence of his lectures increased that of the books into which they finally crystallised. in , he had made his way of thinking so common that his _conduct of life_ had a sale of copies in two days. his readers were nowhere numerous, outside of boston; but they were, and are, to be found everywhere. lovers of liberty on both sides of the atlantic were brought into closer fellowship by books singularly free from anti-british prejudice; but he was so thoroughly american that he declared, even in london, that the true aristocracy must be founded on merit, for "birth has been tried and failed." this lecture was often repeated, and was finally given in as his last word in public. introspective and retiring habits kept him for some time from engaging actively in the reforms which were in full blast about ; but lowell said he was "the sleeping partner who has supplied a great part of their capital." his words about slavery were few and cold before the fugitive slave bill was passed in . indignation at this command to kidnap made him publicly advise his neighbours to break the wicked law. he spoke in support of a free soil candidate in , and for the republican party in ; but john brown called out much more of his praise than any other abolitionist. the attempt of the garrisonians to persuade the north to suffer the seceders to depart in peace won his active aid; but the speech which he tried to deliver on their platform, early in , was made inaudible by a mob of enthusiasts for maintaining the union by war. he rejoiced in emancipation; but it was not achieved until he had lost much of his mental vigour. this, in fact, was at its height between and . his last volumes were in great part made up of his earliest writings. there was no change in his opinions; and his address in was fully approved by him when he re-read it shortly before his death. his most useful contribution to the cause of reform was the characteristic theory which underlies all he wrote. in the essays published in , he states it thus: "every man knows that to his involuntary perceptions a perfect faith is due."... "we know truth when we see it." from first to last he held that "books are for the scholar's idle hours."... "a sound mind will derive its principles from insight."... "truth is always present; it only needs to lift the iron lids of the mind's eye to read its oracles." this was a doctrine much more revolutionary than luther's. emerson proclaimed independence of the bible as well as of the church. his innate reverence was expressed in such sayings as "the relations of the soul to the divine spirit are so pure, that it is profane to interpose helps." love of spontaneity made him declare that "creeds are a disease of the intellect." it was in his indignation at the fugitive-slave law that he said, "we should not forgive the clergy for taking on every issue the immoral side." his treatment of religious institutions was not perfectly consistent; but the aim of all his writings was to encourage heroic thought. he wrote the gospel of nonconformity. personal knowledge of his influence justified bishop huntington in saying that he has "done more to unsettle the faith of the educated young men of our age and country in the christianity of the bible than any other twenty men combined." how desirous emerson was to have the inner light obeyed promptly and fully may be judged from his describing his own habit of writing as follows: "i would not degrade myself by casting about for a thought, nor by waiting for it."... "if it come not spontaneously, it comes not rightly at all." much of the peculiar charm of his books is due to his having composed them thus. again and again he says: "it is really of little importance what blunders in statement we make, so only that we make no wilful departure from the truth."... "why should i give up my thought, because i cannot answer an objection to it?"... "with consistency, a great soul has simply nothing to do."... "speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said to-day."... "i hope in these days we have heard the last of conformity and consistency. let the words be"... "ridiculous henceforward." this is not meant for mere theory. we are told often that "virtue is the spontaneity of the will."... "our spontaneous action is always the best."... "the only right is what is after my own constitution, the only wrong what is against it." iii. the passages quoted in the last paragraph are of great importance; for they did more than any others to abolish slavery. its defenders appealed to the bible as confidently as to the national constitution; but the garrisonians declared with emerson, that "the highest virtue is always against the law." they were confident that they knew the truth as soon as they saw it, and had no need to answer objections. the same faith in spontaneous impressions inspired the suffragists, of whom the next chapter will give some account. agitations against established institutions sprang up thickly under the first step of transcendentalism. church, state, family ties, and business relations seemed all likely to be broken up. lowell says that "everybody had a mission (with a capital m) to attend to everybody else's business."... "conventions were held for every hitherto inconceivable purpose." "communities were established where everything was to be in common but common sense." the popular authors about were mostly transcendentalists; and nearly every transcendentalist was a socialist. some forty communities were started almost simultaneously; but not one-half lasted through the second year. one of the first failures was led by a man who had been working actively against slavery, but who had come to think that the only way to attack it was to try to do away with all private property whatever. brook farm lasted half a dozen years, with a success due partly to the high culture of the inmates, and partly to some recognition of the right of private ownership. the general experience, however, was that a transcendentalist was much more willing to make plans for other people, than to conform in his own daily life to regulations proposed by anyone else. the very multiplicity of the reforms, started in the light of the new philosophy, did much to prevent most of them from attaining success. we have seen how slavery was abolished; but no one should regret the failure of most of the transcendentalist schemes. the subsidence of socialism was especially fortunate on account of the frankness with which matrimony was repudiated by the system most in vogue, that of fourier. he had followed the spontaneous and instinctive impulses of man with the utmost consistency. other socialists have been more cautious; but the problem of reconciling family ties with communal life has not been solved. some of the english transcendentalists published a pamphlet recommending systematic encouragement of licentiousness; and an american philosopher, who turned roman catholic in , declared that free love was "transcendentalism in full bloom." the term "higher law" was used to support the pretence of some obligation more binding than marriage. a free-love convention was held in new york about ; and very lax ideas had been already announced by active apostles of spontaneity known as spiritualists. no writer has done more to encourage purity of thought than emerson. his life was stainless; but perhaps the best proof of this is his saying, "our moral nature is vitiated by any interference of our will"; and again, "if the single man plant himself indomitably on his instincts, and there abide, the huge world will come round to him." no man ever wrote thus who was not either notoriously corrupt or singularly innocent. policemen and jailers exist largely for the purpose of preventing people from planting themselves on their instincts--for instance, those which lead to theft, drunkenness, and murder. socialism would perhaps be practicable if industry were as natural as laziness. almost all moralists have thought it necessary to insist on constant interference with the instincts. so earnest and able a transcendentalist as miss cobbe gives these definitions in her elaborate treatise on _intuitive morals_: "happiness is the gratification of all the desires of our nature." "virtue is the renunciation of such of them as are forbidden by the moral law." theodore parker insisted on the duty of subordinating "the low qualities to the higher," but emerson held, as already mentioned, that "virtue is the spontaneity of the will." such language was largely due to his perception that all activity, however innocent, of thought and feeling had been too much repressed by the puritanical churches, in whose shadow he was brought up. the same mistake was made in the dark ages; and the reaction from that asceticism was notorious during the renaissance. the early unitarians overrated human nature in their hostility to the trinitarians, who underrated it; and emerson went beyond his original associates in the unitarian ministry because he was more transcendental. the elevation of his own character encouraged him to hope that our higher qualities are so strong as to need only freedom to be enabled to keep all impure desire in subjection. it was a marked change of tone when in he allowed these words to be printed in one of his books: "self-control is the rule. you have in you there a noisy, sensual savage which you are to keep down, and turn all his strength to beauty." similar passages, especially a censure of the pruriency of fourierism, occur in essays which were probably written some years earlier, but were not published until after his death. most of the transcendentalists have fortunately acknowledged the duty of self-control much more plainly and readily. it is a fair question whether they were more consistent. how does anyone know which of his instincts and impulses to control and which to cultivate? what better light has he than is given either by his own experience or by that of his parents and other teachers? i acknowledge the power of conscience; but its dictates differ so much in different individuals as to be plainly due to early education. thus even a transcendentalist has to submit himself to experience; as he would not do if it were really transcended by his philosophy. emerson himself was singularly fortunate in his "involuntary perceptions." those of most men are dark with superstition and prejudice. it is what we have heard earliest and oftenest that recurs most spontaneously. if all mankind had continued satisfied to "trust the instinct to the end though it can render no reason," we should still believe in the divine right of kings, and the supremacy of evil spirits. there would have been very little persecution if men could have known truth when they saw it. parker believed devoutly in the intuitions, but he said that emerson exaggerated their accuracy to such an extent that he "discourages hard and continuous thought." "some of his followers will be more faithful than he to the false principles which he lays down, and will think themselves wise because they do not study, and inspired because they say what outrages common sense." the danger of following instinctive impressions in regard to the currency has been shown in recent american politics. anyone who is familiar with scientific methods will see where emerson's failed. it is true that he prized highly many of the results of science, especially the theory of evolution as it was taught by lamarck and other forerunners of darwin. his inability to see the value of investigation and verification is disclosed plainly; and he preferred to have people try to "build science on ideas." he acknowledged that too much time was given to latin and greek in college; but his wishes in regard to study of the sciences were so old-fashioned as to call out a remonstrance from agassiz. iv. how little scientific culture there was before may be judged from the rapid growth of spiritualism. transcendentalism had shown tremendous strength in helping people escape from the old churches; but it was of little use in building new ones. churches exist for the express purpose of enabling believers in a common faith to unite in public worship. no society could be so holy as solitude to a sincere transcendentalist; and the beliefs of his neighbours seemed much less sacred than his own peculiar intuitions. exceptional eloquence might make him pastor of a large society; but it began to decline when he ceased to speak. transcendentalism was excellent material for weathercocks, but it had to be toughened by adulteration with baser metal before it supplied any solid foundation for a new temple. most of the people who had lost faith in the old churches were longing after some better way of receiving knowledge about the heavenly world. millions of americans and europeans rejoiced to hear that spirits had begun to communicate by mysterious raps at rochester, n. y., on the last day of march, . messages from the departed were soon received in many places; but the one thing needful was that the room be filled with believers; and a crowded hall was peculiarly likely to be favoured with strange sounds and sights. here was the social element necessary for founding a new religion. it appealed as confidently as its rivals to miracles and prophecies, while it had the peculiar attraction of being preached mainly by young women. instinctive impulses were regarded as revelations from the spirit-land, but not considered infallible except by the very superstitious. the highest authority of an intelligent spiritualist has usually been his own individual intuition. some of the earliest lectures on that platform had little faith in anything but science, and put their main strength into announcing those revelations of geology which have dethroned genesis. one of the first teachers of evolution in america was a spiritualist named denton, who held a public debate in ohio, in , when he defended the theory of man's gradual development from lower animals against a preacher named garfield, who became president of the united states. some eminent scientists have become converts to spiritualism; but its general literature has shown little influence from scientific methods of thought. the advocates of the new religion have owed much of their success to impassioned eloquence. opposition to christianity has been expressed boldly and frequently. girls of seventeen have declared, before large audiences, that all the creeds and ceremonies of the churches are mere idolatry. among the earliest communications which were published as dictated by angels in the new dispensation were denials of the miracles of jesus, and denunciations of the clergy as "the deadliest foes of progress." an eminent unitarian divine declared in , that "the doctrines professedly revealed by a majority of the spirits, whose words we have seen quoted, are at open war with the new testament." some moderate spiritualists have kept in friendly relations with liberal churches; but many others have been in active co-operation with the most aggressive of unbelievers in religion. the speakers at the spiritualist anniversary in said to one another, "you and i are christs, just as jesus was," and claimed plainly that "our religion" was distinct from every "christian denomination." spiritualists have all, i think, been in favour of woman suffrage; and the majority were abolitionists. some of garrison's companions, however, deserted in the heat of the battle, saying that there was nothing more to do, for the spirits would free the slaves. anti-slavery lecturers in the north-west found themselves crowded out of halls and school-houses by trance-speakers and mediums. one of the most eminent of converts made by the latter, judge edmonds, was prominent among the defenders of slavery in the free states. freedom from any definite creed or rigid code of morality joined with the constant supply of ever-varying miracles in attracting converts. those in the united states were soon estimated in millions. spiritualism swept over great britain so rapidly that it was declared by the _westminster review_ to give quite as much promise as christianity had done, at the same age, of becoming a universal religion. no impartial observer expects that now. believers are still to be found in all parts of europe and south america, and they are especially numerous in the united states. proselytes do not seem to be coming in anywhere very thickly; and the number of intelligent men and women who have renounced spiritualism, after a brief trial, is known to be large. the new religion has followed the old ones into the policy of standing on the defensive. one instance of this is the opposition to investigation. a mediums' national defence association was in open operation before . a leading spiritualist paper suggested in , that the would-be inquirer should be "tied securely hand and foot, and placed in a strong iron cage, with a rope or small chain put tightly about his neck, and fastened to an iron ring in the wall." early in , some young men who claimed to have exposed an impostor, before a large audience in the spiritualist temple in boston, were prosecuted by his admirers on the charge of having disturbed public worship. v. during the last quarter of the century, free love has been much less prominent than before in spiritualistic teachings; but the only americans who were able to proclaim liberty without encouraging self-indulgence, prior to , were the logical and scholarly transcendentalists. theodore parker, for instance, is to be reckoned among the followers of hegel rather than of schelling; for he tried by hard study and deep thought to build up a consistent system of religion and morality by making deductions from a few central principles which he revered as great primary intuitions, held always and everywhere sacred. his faith in his ideas of god, duty, and immortality was very firm; and he did his best to live and think accordingly. he began to preach in , the year of the publication of emerson's first book, but soon found his work hindered by an idolatry of the bible, then prevalent even among unitarians. familiarity with german scholarship enabled him to teach his people to think rationally. his brethren in the unitarian ministry were alarmed; and a sermon which he preached in boston against the mediatorship of jesus made it impossible for him to occupy an influential pulpit. the lectures which he delivered that year in a hall in the city, and published in , won the support of many seekers for a new religion. they voted that he should "have a chance to be heard in boston"; and on february , , he preached in a large hall to what soon became a permanent and famous congregation. thither, as parker said, he "came to build up piety and morality; to pull down only what cumbered the ground." his main purpose to the last was to teach "the naturalness of religion," "the adequacy of man for his functions" without priestly aid, and, most important of all, that superiority of the real deity to the pictures drawn in the orthodox creeds, which parker called "the infinite perfection of god." he was singularly successful in awakening the spirit of religion in men who were living without it, but the plainness with which he stated his faith, in sermons which had a large circulation, called out many attacks. prayers were publicly offered up in boston, asking that the lord would "put a hook in this man's jaws, so that he may not be able to preach, or else remove him out of the way and let his influence die with him." no controversy hindered his labouring systematically for the moral improvement of his hearers, who sometimes amounted to three thousand. his sermons are full of definite appeals for self-control and self-culture; and his personal interest in every individual who could be helped was so active that he soon had seven thousand names on his pastoral visiting list. appeals for advice came from strangers at a distance, and were never neglected. not one of the great national sins, however popular, escaped his severe rebuke; and he became prominent as early as among the preachers against slavery. he was active in many ways as an abolitionist, but was not a disunionist. he seldom quitted his pulpit without speaking for the slave; and every phase of the anti-slavery movement is illustrated in his published works. pro-slavery politicians were as bitter as orthodox clergymen against him; and he describes himself as "continually fired upon for many years from the barroom and pulpit." his resistance to the fugitive slave law caused him to be arrested and prosecuted, in company with wendell phillips, by the officials of the national government. desire to awaken the people to the danger that lay in the growth of the national sin made him begin to lecture in . invitations flowed in freely; and he said, after he had broken down under the joint burden of overwork and of exposure in travelling: "since , i have lectured eighty or a hundred times each year, in every northern state east of the mississippi,--once also in a slave state and on slavery itself." this was his favourite subject, but he never missed an opportunity of encouraging intellectual independence; and he found he could say what he pleased. the total number of hearers exceeded half a million; among them were the most influential men in the north; and he never failed to make himself understood. no one else did so much to develop that love of the people for union and liberty which secured emancipation. his works have no such brilliancy as emerson's; but they burned at the time of need with a much more warm and steady light. no words did more to melt the chains of millions of slaves. no excess of individualism made him shrink back, like emerson, from joining the abolitionists; or discredit them, as thoreau did, by publicly renouncing his allegiance to massachusetts in , when that state stood foremost on the side of freedom. the account of a solitary life in the woods, which thoreau published that year, has done much to encourage independence of public opinion; and americans of that generation needed sadly to be told that they took too little amusement, especially out of doors, and made too great haste to get rich. their history, however, like that of the swiss, scotch, and ancient athenians, proves that it is the industrious, enterprising, money-making nations that are best fitted for maintaining free institutions. as for individual independence of thought and action, the average man will enjoy much more of it, while he keeps himself in comfortable circumstances by regular but not excessive work, than he could if he were to follow the advice of an author who prided himself on not working more than "about six weeks in a year," and on enduring privations which apparently shortened his days. thoreau's self-denial was heroic; but he sometimes failed to see the right of his neighbours to indulge more expensive tastes than his own. the necessary conditions of health and comfort for different individuals vary much more than he realised. many a would-be reformer still complains of the "luxury" of people who find physical rest or mental culture in innocent ways, not particularly to his own fancy. such censures are really intolerant. they are survivals of that meddlesome disposition which has sadly restricted freedom of trade, amusement, and worship. we have had only one emerson; but many scholarly transcendentalists have laboured to construct the new morality needed in the nineteenth century. parker's work has peculiar interest, because done in a terrible emergency; but others have toiled as profitably though less famously. the search after fundamental intuitions has led to a curious variety of statements which agree only in the assumption of infallibility; but the result has been the general agreement of liberal preachers in teaching a system of ethics at once free from superstition, bigotry, or asceticism, and at the same time vigorous enough to repress impure desire and encourage active philanthropy. theology has improved in liberality, as well as in claiming less prominence. thus the clergy have come into much more friendly relations with the philosophers than in the middle of the century. our popular preachers quote emerson; but really they follow, though often unconsciously, the methods of hegel and kant. this increases their sympathy with parker, who has the advantage over emerson of having believed strongly in personal immortality. his works are circulated by the very denomination which cast him out. the most popular preachers in many sects openly accept him and emerson among their highest authorities. transcendentalism has become the foundation of liberal christianity. this agreement is not, however, necessary and may not be permanent. hegel's great success was in bringing forward the old dogmas with new claims to infallibility. when some of his disciples showed that his methods were equally well adapted for the destruction of orthodoxy, schelling gave his last lectures in its defence. the singular fitness of traditions for acceptance as intuitions has been proved, late in the century, by the rev. joseph cook in boston as well as by many speakers at the concord school of philosophy. the reactionary tendency is already so strong that it may yet become predominant. we must not forget that shelley called himself an atheist, or that among hegel's most famous followers were strauss and renan. who can say whether unbelief, orthodoxy, or liberal christianity is the legitimate outcome of this ubiquitous philosophy? transcendentalism has been the inspiration of the century. its influence has been mighty in behalf of political liberty and social progress. but there was no inconsistency in hegel's opposing the education of women, and denying the possibility of a great republic, or in carlyle's defending absolute monarchy and chattel slavery, or in parker's successor in boston trying to justify the russian despotism. transcendentalism is a swivel-gun, which can be fired easily in any direction. perhaps it can be used most easily against science. the difference in methods, of course, is irreconcilable, as is seen in emerson; and the brilliant results attained by herbert spencer have been sadly disparaged by leading transcendentalists in the conventions of the free religious association, as well as in sessions of the concord school of philosophy. vi. the necessary tendency of transcendentalism may be seen in the agitation against vivisection, which was begun in by miss cobbe. she was aided by carlyle, browning, ruskin, lecky, mar-tineau, and other transcendentalists, one of whom, rev. w. h. channing, had been prominent in america about . most of the active anti-vivisectionists, however, belong to the sex which has been peculiarly ready to adopt unscientific methods of thought. it is largely due to women with a taste for metaphysics or theology that the agitation still goes on in great britain and the united states. attempts ought certainly to be made to prevent torture of animals by inexperienced students, or by teachers who merely wish to illustrate the working of well-known laws. there ought to be little difficulty in securing the universal adoption of such statutes as were passed by parliament in . vivisection was then forbidden, except when carried out for the purpose of important discoveries, by competent investigators duly licensed, and in regular laboratories. it was further required that complete protection against suffering pain be given by anaesthetics, though these last could be dispensed with in exceptional cases covered by a special license. the animal must at all events be killed as soon as the experiment was over. this law actually put a stop to attempts to find some antidote to the poison of the cobra, which slays thousands of hindoos annually. professor ferrier, who was discovering the real functions of various parts of the brain, was prosecuted in by the anti-vivisection society for operating without a license upon monkeys; but the charge turned out to be false. the real question since has been as to whether vivisection should be tolerated as an aid to scientific and medical discovery. darwin's opinion on this point is all the more valuable, because he hated all cruelty to animals. in april, , he wrote to _the times_ as follows: "i know that physiology cannot possibly progress except by means of experiments on living animals; and i feel the deepest conviction that he who retards the progress of physiology commits a crime against mankind.... no one, unless he is grossly ignorant of what science has done for mankind, can entertain any doubt of the incalculable benefits which will hereafter be derived from physiology, not only by man but by the lower animals. look, for instance, at pasteur's results in modifying the germs of the most malignant diseases, from which, as it so happens, animals will in the first place receive more relief than man. let it be remembered how many lives, and what a fearful amount of suffering, have been saved by the knowledge gained of parasitic worms, through the experiments of virchow and others upon living animals." another high authority, carpenter, says that vivisection has greatly aided physicians in curing heart disease, as well as in preventing blood-poisoning by taking antiseptic precautions. much has been learned as to the value of hypodermic injections, and also of bromide of potassium, chloral, salicylic acid, cocaine, amyl, digitalis, and strychnia. some of these drugs are so poisonous that they would never have been administered to human beings if they could not have been tried previously on the lower animals. the experiments in question have recently assisted in curing yellow fever, sunstroke, diabetes, epilepsy, erysipelas, cholera, consumption, and trichinosis. the german professors of medicine testified in a body that vivisection has regenerated the healing art. similar testimony was given in by the three thousand members of the international medical congress; and the british medical association has taken the same position. the facts are so plain that an english judge, who was a vice-president of miss cobbe's society, admitted that "vivisection enlarges knowledge"; but he condemned it as ''displeasing to almighty god.'' it was said to go "hand in hand with atheism"; and several of the episcopalian bishops, together with cardinal manning, opposed it as irreligious. transcendentalists are compelled by their philosophy to decide on the morality of all actions solely by the inner light, and not permitted to pay any attention to consequences. many of them in england and america agreed to demand the total suppression of vivisection, "even should it chance to prove useful." this ground was taken in by miss cobbe's society; and she declared, five years later, in _the fortnightly_, that she was determined "to stop the torture of animals, a grave moral offence, with the consequences of which--be they fortunate or the reverse--we are no more concerned than with those of any other evil deed." later she said: "into controversies concerning the utility of vivisection, i for one refuse to enter"; and she published a leaflet advising her sisters to follow her example. ruskin took the same ground. these hasty enthusiasts were equally indifferent to another fact, which ought not to have been overlooked, namely, that suffering was usually prevented by the use of anaesthetics, which are indispensable for the success of many experiments. the bill for prohibiting any vivisection was brought into the house of lords in ; but was opposed by a nobleman who presided over the society for the prevention of cruelty to animals; and it was lost by votes against . the house of commons refused even to take action on the subject, despite four years of agitation. thus the right of scientific research was finally secured. miss cobbe was one of the noblest of women; but even she was made blind by her philosophy to the right of people who prefer scientific methods to act up to their convictions. garrison, too, was notoriously unable to do justice to anyone, even an abolitionist, who did not agree with him. there is nothing in transcendentalism to prevent intolerance. this philosophy has done immense service to the philanthropy as well as the poetry of the nineteenth century; but human liberty will gain by the discovery that no such system of metaphysics can be anything better than a temporary bridge for passing out of the swamps of superstition, across the deep and furious torrent of scepticism, into a land of healthy happiness and clear, steady light. chapter vi. platform versus pulpit during the nineteenth century the authority of preachers and pastors has diminished plainly; and this is largely due to a fact of which emerson spoke thus: "we should not forgive the clergy for taking on every issue the immoral side." this was true in england, where the great reforms were achieved for the benefit of the masses, and against the interest of the class to which most clergymen belonged. the american pastor seldom differed from his parishioners, unless he was more philanthropic. he was usually in favour of the agitation against drunkenness; and he had a right to say that the disunionism of phillips and garrison, together with their systematically repelling sympathy in the south, went far to offset their claim for his support. it was difficult, during many years, to see what ought to be done in the north. when a practical issue was made by the attack on kansas, the clergy took the side of freedom almost unanimously in new england, and quite generally in rural districts throughout the free states. the indifference of the ministers to abolitionism, before , was partly due, however, to their almost universal opposition to a kindred reform, which they might easily have helped. i. it was before garrison began his agitation that frances wright denounced the clergy for hindering the intellectual emancipation of her sex; and her first ally was not _the liberator_, but _the investigatory_ though both began almost simultaneously. she pleaded powerfully for the rights of slaves, as well as of married women, before large audiences in the middle states as early as , when these reforms were also advocated by mrs. ernestine l. rose, a liberal jewess. these ladies spoke to men as well as women; and so next summer did miss angelina grimké, whose zeal against slavery had lost her her home in south carolina. her first public lecture was in massachusetts; and the congregationalist ministers of that state promptly issued a declaration that they had a right to say who should speak to their parishioners, and that the new testament forbade any woman to become a "public reformer." their action called out the spirited poem in which whittier said: "what marvel if the people learn to claim the right of free opinion? what marvel if at times they spurn the ancient yoke of your dominion?" garrison now came out in favour of "the rights of women," and thus lost much of the support which he was receiving from the country clergy generally in new england. the final breach was in may, , at the meeting of the national association of abolitionists in new york city. there came garrison with more than five hundred followers from new england. they gained by a close vote a place on the business committee for that noble woman, abby kelley. ministers and church members seceded and started a new anti-slavery society, which carried away most of the members and even the officers of the old one. the quarrel was embittered by the vote of censure, passed at this meeting upon those abolitionists who had dared to nominate a candidate of their own for the presidency without leave from mr. garrison; but the chief trouble came from the prejudice which, that same summer, caused most of the members of the world's anti-slavery convention in london, to refuse places to harriet martineau and other ladies as delegates. this exclusion was favoured by all the eight clergymen who spoke, and by no other speakers so earnestly. among the rejected delegates were mrs. lucretia mott and mrs. elizabeth cady stanton; and they resolved, that night, to hold a convention for the benefit of their sex in america. the volume of essays which emerson published in praised "the new chivalry in behalf of woman's rights"; and the other transcendentalists in america came, one after another, to the same position. mrs. stanton and mrs. mott called their convention in that year of revolutions, , on july th. the place was the methodist church at seneca falls, in central new york. the reformers found the door locked against them; and a little boy had to climb in at the window. the declaration of independence, adopted on july , , furnished a model for a protest against the exclusion of girls from high schools and colleges, the closing of almost every remunerative employment against the sex, and the laws forbidding a married woman to own any property, whether earned or inherited by her, even her own clothing. this declaration was adopted unanimously; but a demand for the suffrage had only a small majority. not a single minister is known to have been present; but there were two at a second convention, that august, in rochester, where the unitarian church was full of men and women. there were more than twenty-five thousand ministers in the united states; but only three are mentioned among the members of the national convention, held at worcester, massachusetts, in october, , by delegates from eleven states. as phillips was returning from this meeting, theodore parker said to him, "wendell, why do you make a fool of yourself?" the great preacher came out a few years later in behalf of the rights of women; but it was long before a single religious newspaper caught up with _the investigator_. how the clergy generally felt was shown in , at akron, in northern ohio. there episcopalian, presbyterian, baptist, methodist, and universalist ministers appealed to the bible in justification of the subjugation of women. there was no reply until they began to boast of the intellectual superiority of their own sex. then an illiterate old woman who had been a slave arose and said: "what 's dat got to do with women's rights, or niggers' rights either? if my cup won't hold but a pint, and yourn holds a quart, would n't ye be mean not to let me have my little half-measure full?" the convention was with her; but the bible argument was not to be disposed of easily. the general tone of both testaments is in harmony with the familiar texts attributed to paul and peter. these latter passages were written, in all probability, when the position of women was changing for the better throughout the roman empire: and the original words, asserting the authority of husbands, are the same as are used in regard to the power of masters over slaves. such language had all the more weight, because the ministers had been brought up as members of the ruling sex. they may have also been biassed by the fact that their profession depends, more than any other, for success upon the unpaid services in many ways of devoted women. emancipation was by no means likely to promote work for the church. there was an audience of two thousand at syracuse, in , when what was called the "bloomer convention," on account of the short dresses worn by some members, took up a resolution, declaring that the bible recognises the rights of women. mrs. rose said that the reform had merits enough of its own, and needed no justification by any book. a letter was read from mrs. stanton, saying that "among the clergy we find our most violent enemies, those most opposed to any change in woman's position." the accuracy of this statement was readily admitted, after a reverend gentleman had denounced the infidelity of the movement, in a speech described as "indecent" and "coarsely offensive" in the new york herald; and the resolution was lost. the lady who offered it was ordained soon after for the congregationalist ministry; but she was obliged to confess, at the woman's rights' convention, in , that "the church has so far cast me off, that to a great extent i have been obliged to go to just such infidels as those around me for aid to preach my christian views." it was at this meeting that a doctor of divinity, and pastor of a prominent society, denounced the reform so violently that mr. garrison called him a blackguard and a rowdy, with the result of having his nose pulled by the champion of the church militant. there were many such unseemly manifestations of clerical wrath. the _history of woman suffrage_, which was edited by mrs. stanton and other leading reformers, said, in : "the deadliest opponents to the recognition of the equal rights of women have ever been among the orthodox clergy." the unitarians were more friendly; but i do not think that the reform was openly favoured, even as late as , by one clergyman in a thousand out of the whole number in the united states. the proportion was even smaller in europe. even as late as , it was resolved by the woman suffrage convention at rochester, n. y., "that as the first duty of every individual is self-development, the lessons of self-sacrifice and obedience taught woman by the christian church have been fatal, not only to her own vital interests but through her to those of the race." influences were already at work, however, which have made the relations of platform and pulpit comparatively friendly in this respect. the women of the north showed their patriotism, during the great war, by establishing and managing the sanitary commission, the freedman's bureau, and the woman's loyal national league. important elections were carried in by the eloquence of anna e. dickinson, for the republican party; and it has often since had similar help. the success of the women's christian temperance union and other partly philanthropic and partly religious organisations, has proved the ability of women to think and act independently. many of their demands have been granted, one by one; and public opinion has changed so much in their favour, that they ceased long ago to encounter any general hostility from the clergy in the northern states. even there, however, women still find it much too difficult for them to enter a peculiarly easy, honourable, and lucrative profession. their elocutionary powers are shown on the stage as well as the platform. their capacity for writing sermons is plain to every one familiar with recent literature. their ability to preach is recognised cordially in the salvation army, as well as by spiritualists, quakers, unitarians, and universalists. much of the pastoral work is done by women, in actual fact; and more ought to be. the sunday-school, choir, social gathering, and other important auxiliaries to the pulpit are almost entirely in female hands. women enjoy practically the monopoly of those kinds of church work for which there is no pay; and their exclusion from the kind which is paid highly, in the largest and wealthiest denominations, looks too much like a preference of clergymen to look after the interest of their own sex. the most orthodox churches are the most exclusive; and the same forces which are driving bigotry out of the pulpits are bringing women in. this reform is one of many in which a much more advanced position has been taken by new england and the far west than by the south; and the american transcendentalists led public opinion in the section where most of them lived. in great britain the struggle has been carried on in the interest of the middle and lower classes, and under much opposition from the class to which most admirers of philosophy belonged. no wonder that one of the keenest critics of transcendentalism was prominent among the champions in england of the oppressed sex. john stuart mill declared, in his widely circulated book on _the subjection of women_, that "nobody ever arrived at a general rule of duty by intuition." he held that the legal subjection of wives to husbands bore more resemblance, as far as the laws were concerned, to slavery, than did any other relationship existing in great britain in . he did not argue from any theory of natural rights, but pointed out the advantage to society of women's developing their capacities freely. he also insisted on the duty of government not to restrict the liberty of any woman, except when necessary to prevent her diminishing that of her neighbours. this last proposition will be examined in the next chapter. the fact that mill's great work for freedom was done through the press, and not on the platform, makes it unnecessary to say more about him in this place. ii. clergymen, like transcendentalists, in england were generally conservative, or reactionary; and the friends of reform were much more irreligious than in america. their appeal against the authority of church and bible was not to intuition but to science; and they were aided by lyell's demonstration, in , that geology had superseded genesis. working-men were warned in lectures, tracts, and newspapers against immorality in the old testament; and even the new was said to discourage resistance to oppression and efforts to promote health, comfort, and knowledge. the most popular of these champions against superstition and tyranny was bradlaugh. he began to lecture in , when only seventeen, and continued for forty years to speak and write diligently. his atheism obliged him to undergo poverty for many years, and much hardship. he charged no fee for lecturing, went willingly to the smallest and poorest places, and was satisfied with whatever was brought in by selling tickets, often for only twopence each. he once travelled six hundred miles in forty-eight hours, to deliver four lectures which did not repay his expenses. many a hall which he had engaged was closed against him; and he was thus obliged to speak in the open air one rainy sunday, when he had two thousand hearers. at such times his voice pealed out like a trumpet; his information was always accurate; opposition quickened the flow of ideas; and he had perfect command of the people's english. his great physical strength was often needed to defend him against violence, sometimes instigated by the clergy. he had much to say against the old testament; but no struggle for political liberty, whether at home or abroad, failed to receive his support; and he was especially active for that great extension of suffrage which took place in . his knowledge that women would vote against him did not prevent his advocating their right to the ballot; but it was in the name of "the great mass of the english people" that he was an early supporter of the cause of union and liberty against the slave-holders who seceded. in he became president of the national society of secularists, who believe only in "the religion of the present life." most of the members were agnostics; and one of bradlaugh's many debates was with holyoake, the founder of secularism, on the question whether that term ought to be used instead of atheism. the society was so well organised that only a telegram from the managers was needed to call out a public meeting anywhere in england. among bradlaugh's hearers in america in were emerson, sumner, garrison, phillips, and o. b. frothingham. he won soon after a powerful ally in a clergyman's wife, who had been driven from her home by her husband because she would not partake of the communion. mrs. besant began to lecture in , and with views like bradlaugh's; but her chief interest was in woman suffrage. both held strict views about the obligation of marriage; and their relations were blameless. bradlaugh's place in history is mainly as a champion of the right of atheists to sit in parliament. he was elected by the shoemakers of northampton in , when oaths of allegiance were exacted in the house of commons. quakers, however, could affirm; and he asked the same privilege. as this was refused, he offered to take the oath, and declared that the essential part would be "binding upon my honour and conscience." this, too, was forbidden; but there was much discussion, not only in parliament but throughout england, as to his right to affirm. his friends held two hundred public meetings in a single week, and sent in petitions with two hundred thousand signatures during twelve months. the liberal newspapers were on his side; but the methodist and episcopalian pulpits resounded with denials of the right of atheists to enter parliament on any terms. among the expounders of this view in leading periodicals were cardinal manning and other prominent ecclesiastics. they had the support of the archbishop of canterbury, as well as of many petitions from sunday-schools. public opinion showed itself so plainly that brad-laugh was finally allowed by a close vote to make affirmation and take his seat. he was soon forced to leave it by an adverse decision of the judges, but was promptly re-elected. again he offered in vain to take the oath. after several months of litigation, and many appeals to audiences which he made almost unanimous, he gave notice that he should try to take his seat on august , , unless prevented by force. it took fourteen men to keep him out; and he was dragged down-stairs with such violence that he fainted away. his clothes were badly torn; and the struggle brought on an alarming attack of erysipelas. a great multitude had followed him to westminster hall, and there would have been a dangerous riot, if it had not been for the entreaties of mrs. besant, who spoke at bradlaugh's request. his next move was to take the oath without having it properly administered. he was expelled in consequence, but re-elected at once. thus the contest went on, until the speaker decided that every member had a right to take the oath which could not be set aside. bradlaugh was admitted accordingly, on january , ; and two years later he brought about the passage of a bill by which unbelievers were enabled to enter parliament by making affirmation. the irish members had tried to keep him out; but this did not prevent his advocating home rule for ireland, and also for india. from first to last he fought fearlessly and steadily for freedom of speech and of the press. his beauty of character increased his influence. mrs. besant is right in saying: "that men and women are now able to speak as openly as they do, that a broader spirit is visible in the churches, that heresy is no longer regarded as morally disgraceful--these things are very largely due to the active and militant propaganda carried on under the leadership of charles bradlaugh." iii. similar ideas to his have been presented ever since to immense audiences, composed mostly of young men, in chicago, new york, boston, and other american cities, by robert g. ingersoll. burning hatred of all tyranny and cruelty often makes him denounce the bible with a pathos like rousseau's or a brilliancy like voltaire's. he was decidedly original when he asked why jesus, if he knew how christianity would develop, did not say that his followers ought not to persecute one another. in protesting against subordinating reason to faith, ingersoll says: "ought the sailor to throw away his compass and depend entirely on the fog?" among other characteristic passages are these: "banish me from eden when you will, but first let me eat of the tree of knowledge!"... "religion has not civilised man: man has civilised religion."... "miracles are told simply to be believed, not to be understood." ingersoll is not merely a destroyer but an earnest pleader for what he calls the gospel of cheerfulness and good health, "the gospel of water and soap," the gospels of education, liberty, justice, and humanity. he regards "marriage as the holiest institution among men"; but holds that "the woman is the equal of the man. she has all the rights i have and one more; and that is the right to be protected." he believes fully "in the democracy of the family," and "in allowing the children to think for themselves." he is not so much interested as bradlaugh was in political reform and social progress, but has often taken the conservative side; and his speaking in public has been more like an occasional recreation than a life-work. some of his lectures have had an immense circulation as pamphlets; and his biblical articles in the _north american review_ attracted much notice. he is never at his best, however, without an audience before him; and he sometimes writes too rapidly to be strictly accurate. iv. a better parallel to bradlaugh is furnished by mr. b. f. underwood, who was only eighteen when he began to lecture in rhode island. the great revival of was in full blast; and he showed its evils with an energy which called down much denunciation from the pulpit. he spoke from the first as an evolutionist, though darwin had not yet demonstrated the fact. to and fro through the connecticut valley went the young iconoclast, speaking wherever he could find hearers, asking only for repayment of expenses, and sometimes failing to receive even that. his work was interrupted by the war, in which he took an active and honourable part. when peace was restored, he studied thoroughly the _origin of species_ and the _descent of man_; and he began in to give course after course of lectures on darwinism in new england, new york, and pennsylvania. the new view had been nine years before the public, but had received little or no support from any clergyman in the united states, or any journal except _the investigator_. for thirty years mr. underwood has been busily propagating evolutionism on the platform, as well as in print. no other american has done so much to make the system popular, or has reproduced herbert spencer's statements with such fidelity. he has taken especial pains to prove that "evolution disposes of the theory that the idea of god is innate," as well as of the once mighty argument from design. he has said a great deal about the bible and christianity, but in a more constructive spirit than either bradlaugh or ingersoll. he has discredited old books by unfolding new truth. among his favourite subjects have been: "what free thought gives us in place of the creeds," "the positive side of modern liberal thought," "if you take away religion, what will you give in its place?" "the influence of civilisation on christianity." he has always shown himself in favour of the interests of working-men, and also of women's rights and other branches of political reform. during the twelve years ending in , he lectured five or six times a week for at least nine months out of twelve, often travelling from canada to arkansas and oregon. occasionally he spoke every night for a month; but he has seldom lectured in summer, except when on the pacific coast. his lectures in oregon in on evolution awoke much opposition in the pulpits. two years afterwards he held a debate in that state against a clergyman who was president of a college, and who denounced evolution as in conflict with "the word of god." such views were then prevalent in that city; but in it was found by mr. underwood to have become the seat of the state university, where the new system was taught regularly. underwood, like bradlaugh, has always challenged discussion, and he has held over a hundred public debates. the first was in ; and some have occupied twenty evenings. most of his opponents have been clergymen; and a hundred and fifty of the profession were in the audience at one contest in illinois in . how much public opinion differs in various states of the union is shown by the fact that nine years later the doors of a hall which had been engaged for him in pennsylvania were closed against him, merely because he was "an infidel." his friends broke in without his consent; and he was fined $ . the first lecture which he tried to give in canada was prevented by similar dishonesty. another hall was hired for the next night at great expense; but much interruption was made by clergymen; and when suit was brought for damages through breach of contract, the courts decided that bargains with unbelievers were not binding in canada. both bradlaugh and underwood have usually spoken _extempore_, but both have been busy journalists. the american agitator wrote as early as for both _the liberator_ and _the investigator_. his connection with the latter paper lasted until the time when a serious difference of opinion arose between those aggressive unbelievers who called themselves "freethinkers," or even "infidels," and those moderate liberals who belong to the free religious association, and formerly supported _the index_. this journal came in under the management of mr. underwood. his colleague, rev. w. j. potter, was nominally his equal in authority; but i know, from personal acquaintance with both gentlemen, that the real editor from first to last was mr. underwood. it was mainly due to him that much attention was given, both in the columns of the journal and in the meetings of the association, to efforts for secularising the state. he was in charge of _the index_ until it stopped at the end of . in he held a discussion in boston with the president of williams college, and professor gray, the great botanist, on the relations between evolution and "evangelical religion." about four hundred orthodox clergymen were present. in mr. underwood was still in his original occupation. early that year he lectured in illinois, indiana, michigan, ohio, new york, connecticut, rhode island, massachusetts, and canada. he now believes, like emerson, in "a higher origin for events than the will i call mine." v. the difference of opinion among liberals, just referred to, grew out of the agitation for a free sunday, which had been begun by frances wright in . a call for "an anti-sabbath convention" in boston was issued by some transcendentalists in , when men had recently been imprisoned in massachusetts for getting in hay, and in pennsylvania for selling anti-slavery books. churches were closed on sunday against lecturers for any reform, however popular; and even the most innocent amusement was prohibited by public opinion. only a moderate protest had any chance of a hearing; but garrison and the other managers insisted in the call that "the first day of the week is no holier than any other," and refused to allow anyone who did not believe this to speak. very little was said about what the sunday laws really were; but most of the time was occupied with arguments that the sabbath was only for the jews, and that keeping sunday is not a religious duty. this last assertion called out an earnest remonstrance from theodore parker; but his resolutions were voted down. the garrisonians insisted, as usual, that the big end of the wedge ought to go in first; and their convention was a failure. twenty-eight years went by without any protest of importance against sunday laws in america. meantime the free religious association was organised in boston by unitarian clergymen who were indignant at the recent introduction into their denomination of a doctrinal condition of fellowship. the first public meeting, on may , , called out an immense audience. emerson was one of the speakers; and he held his place among the vice-presidents as long as he lived. a similar position was offered to lucretia mott, but she declined on the platform. her reason was that practical work was subordinated to theological speculation by the announcement in the constitution that the association was organised "to promote the interests of pure religion, to encourage the scientific study of theology, and to increase fellowship in the spirit." these phrases were altered afterwards; but the association has always been, in the words of one of its leading members "a voice without a hand." free religious conventions have regularly increased the confusion of tongues in that yearly boston babel called "anniversary week"; and there have been many similar gatherings in various cities; but not one in four of these meetings has given much attention to any practical subject, like the use of the bible in the public schools. a vigorous discussion of the sunday laws of massachusetts took place in , under peculiar circumstances to be described in the next section; but there was no other until . _the index_ started in ; but it was largely occupied with vague speculations about theology; and its discontinuance in left the association without any organ of frequent communication among its members, or even an office for business. dr. adler, who became president in , tried to awaken an interest in unsectarian education, and especially in ethical culture; but he resigned on account of lack of support; and the ethical culture societies were started outside of the association. comparatively few of its members took any interest in the petitions presented by its direction to the massachusetts legislature in and , asking for taxation of churches, protection of witnesses from molestation on account of unbelief, and rescue of the sunday law from giving sanctuary to fraud. the president acknowledged in that there had been a "general debility for practical work." there seems to have been a lack of energy among the managers; and some of the members were too anxious to preserve their individuality, while others had too much regard for ecclesiastical interests. the parliament of religions next year, however, showed what good the association had done by insisting continually on fellowship in religion, and keeping its platform open to jews, hindoos, and unbelievers, as well as to christians of every sect. vi. prominent among the founders of the free religious association was francis e. abbot, who lost his place soon after as pastor of an independent society, because the supreme court of new hampshire decided, on the request of some unitarians for an injunction against him, that his opinions were "subversive of the fundamental principles of christianity. he was the first editor of _the index_; and there appeared in april, , his statement of what are generally recognised as "the demands of liberalism " . we demand that churches and other ecclesiastical property shall no longer be exempt from just taxation. " . we demand that the employment of chaplains in congress, in state legislatures, in the navy and militia, and in prisons, asylums, and all other institutions supported by public money, shall be discontinued. " . we demand that all public appropriations for educational and charitable institutions of a sectarian character shall cease. " . we demand that all religious services now sustained by the government shall be abolished; and especially that the use of the bible in the public schools, whether ostensibly as a text-book or avowedly as a book of religious worship, shall be prohibited. " . we demand that the appointment, by the president of the united states, or by the governors of the various states, of all religious festivals and fasts shall wholly cease. " . we demand that the judicial oath in the courts and in all other departments of the government shall be abolished, and that simple affirmation under the pains and penalties of perjury shall be established in its stead. " . we demand that all laws directly or indirectly enforcing the observance of sunday as the sabbath shall be repealed. " . we demand that all laws looking to the enforcement of "christian" morality shall be abrogated, and that all laws shall be conformed to the requirements of natural morality, equal rights, and impartial liberty. " . we demand that not only in the constitutions of the united states, and of the several states, but also in the practical administration of the same, no privilege or advantage shall be conceded to christianity or any other special religion; that our entire political system shall be founded and administered on a purely secular basis; and that whatever changes shall prove necessary to this end shall be consistently, unflinchingly, and promptly made." he knew how unlikely it was that the association would agitate for anything; and in january, , he published a call for organisation of liberal leagues, in order to obtain the freedom already asked. such leagues were soon formed in most of the states, as well as in germany and canada. among the members were phillips, garrison, lucretia mott, higginson, and other famous abolitionists, karl heinzen and other radical germans, several rabbis and editors of jewish papers, inger-soll, underwood, the editor of _the investigatory_ and other active agitators, several wealthy men of business, collyer, savage, and other unitarian clergymen. hundreds of newspapers supported the movement; and eight hundred members had been enrolled before a convention of the national liberal league met in philadelphia, on the first four days of july, . the managers of the international exhibition in that city had already decided that it should be closed on sunday, in violation of the rights, and against the wishes, of the jews, unbelievers, and many other citizens. the free religious association had been requested in vain, at a recent meeting, to remonstrate against this iniquity. the league passed a strong vote of censure without opposition, and appointed a committee to present a protest which had been circulated during the convention. resolutions were also passed asserting the right of all americans to enjoy on sunday the public libraries, museums, parks, and similar institutions "for the support of which they are taxed," and demanding "that all religious exercises should be prohibited in the public schools." it was under the influence of this example that the free religious association held a special convention on november , , to protest against the sunday laws of massachusetts. a jewish rabbi complained that more than two thousand hebrew children in boston were prevented from keeping holy the day set apart for rest and worship in exodus and deuteronomy, and many of them actually obliged by their teachers to break the sabbath. this was the effect of the law commanding them to go to school on saturday, which is that "seventh day" whose observance is required by the fourth commandment. other speakers declared that no legislation was needed to ensure sunday's remaining a day of rest. mention was made of the fact that "any game, sport, play, or public diversion," not specially licensed, on saturday evening, made all persons present liable to be fined. this was already a dead letter; and the theatres had announced with perfect safety twenty years before, in their playbills, "we defy the law." a few months after this convention, its influence was shown in the opening of the art museum free of charge to the people of boston, sunday afternoons. thus the association began to co-operate with the national league; and the latter soon had the support of more than sixty local organisations. the movement for establishing "equal rights in religion" was uniting liberal christians, jews, independent theists, spiritualists, materialists, evolutionists, agnostics, and atheists. all were willing to call themselves "freethinkers" and work together as they have never done since . then the league felt itself strong enough to call for "taxation of church property," "secularisation of public schools," "abrogation of sabbatarian laws," and also for woman suffrage, as well as compulsory education throughout the united states. steps were taken towards nominating ingersoll on this platform for president of the republic. these plans had to be abandoned; the agitation subsided; and the harmony between lovers of liberty from various standpoints was lost. a fatal difference of opinion was manifest in , in regard to those acts of congress called "the comstock laws." these statutes forbade sending obscene literature through the mails; and there had been more than a hundred recent convictions. some of the prosecutions were said to have been prompted by religious bigotry; and there seems to have been unjustifiable examination of mail matter. the most important question was whether the laws ought to be enforced against newspapers and pamphlets about free love and marital tyranny, which were not meant to be indecent but really were so occasionally. a publisher in massachusetts was sentenced in june, , to two years of imprisonment for trying to mail such a pamphlet; but he was soon released. more severe punishment has been inflicted recently for similar offences. the majority of people in america and england favoured the exclusion by law of indecent literature from circulation; and this course has been considered necessary on account of the known frailty of human nature. the members of the free religious association were willing to have the comstock laws changed, but not repealed; and they voted, early in , to take no part in what threatened to be an unfortunate controversy. the league, however, was divided on the question whether these laws ought to be amended or repealed. abbot, underwood, and other prominent members declared that literature ought to be excluded from the mails or admitted according as it was intentionally and essentially indecent, or only accidentally so. thus ingersoll said: "we want all nastiness suppressed for ever; but we also want the mails open to all decent people." other members held that the comstock laws ought to be repealed entirely, and no restriction put on the circulation of any literature except by public opinion. this must be admitted to agree with the principle that each one ought to have all the liberty consistent with the equal liberty of everyone else; but this application of the theory cannot be considered politic in agitating for religious freedom. the _investigator, truthseeker_, and other aggressive papers, however, called for complete repeal; and a petition with this object received seventy thousand signatures. the national league had voted, in , that legislation against obscene publications was absolutely necessary, but that the existing laws needed amendment. the question whether this position should be maintained, was announced as the principal business to be settled in the convention which met at syracuse on october , . mr. abbot, the president, and other prominent officers declared that they should not be candidates for re-election if the position assumed two years before was not kept. scarcely had the convention met, when its management passed into the hands of the friends of repeal. they allowed judge hurlbut, formerly on the bench in the supreme court of the state, to argue in favour of closing the mails against publications "manifestly designed or mainly tending to corrupt the morals of the young." much respect was due to the author of a book which declared, in , that married women had a right to vote and hold property, as well as that the state "cannot rightfully compel any man to keep sunday as a religious institution; nor can it compel him to cease from labour or recreation on that day; since it cannot be shown that the ordinary exercise of the human faculties on that day is in any way an infringement upon the rights of mankind." on sunday morning, october th, it was agreed that the question of repeal or reform should be postponed until the next annual convention; but the decision was made a foregone conclusion that afternoon, when three-fifths of the members voted not to re-elect mr. abbot and other champions of reform. the defeated candidates left the convention at once, as did mr. underwood and many other members, judge hurlbut taking the lead. a new league was organised by the seceders; but it was not a success. the movement for amending, but not repealing, the comstock laws was given up; and most of those who had favoured it took sides with those who had refused to agitate. there was little interest in "the demands of liberalism" thenceforth among the liberal christians, reformed jews, transcendentalists, and evolutionists. these and other moderate liberals refuse to call themselves "freethinkers"; and they make little attempt at collective and distinctive action. the free religious association did nothing towards secularising the laws of massachusetts between and . the agitation which began in the latter year ended on may , , when the sunday laws were discussed at boston in a large and enthusiastic convention. the legislature had just passed a bill to legalise saturday evening amusements, as well as boating, sailing, driving, use of telegraph, and sale of milk, bread, newspapers, and medicines on sunday; the signature of the governor had not yet been given; but it was agreed that these changes must be made, and for the reason that the old restrictions could not be enforced. judge putnam, of the state district court, told the convention that "the sunday law, so called, has not in a long, long time been enforced," except by "a prosecution here and there"; and that if it were to be enforced strictly, the prosecutions would occupy nearly all the week. he opposed any restraint on "entertainments not of an immoral tendency." mr. garrison, son of the famous abolitionist, declared that sunday ought to be "the holiday of the week." captain adams, of montreal, said: "this is not a mere question how much men may do or enjoy on sunday: it is a question of human liberty, a question whether ecclesiastical tyranny shall still put its yoke on our necks." the tone was bold, but thoroughly practical from first to last. an earnest protest against closing the chicago exposition on the people's day of leisure was made by the f. r. a., in may, ; and an important victory in behalf of religious liberty was won in in massachusetts. the sunday laws of this state have been so improved as to permit what are called "charity concerts," and are not made up entirely of ecclesiastical music, to be given for the pecuniary benefit of charitable and religious societies on sunday evenings. the legislature which met early in was asked by representatives of the monday conference of unitarian ministers, the women's christian temperance union, and several other religious organisations to alter the law so as to prevent any but "sacred music" from being heard on the only evening when many people in boston can go to concerts. the officers of the f. r. a. made a formal request to be heard by a committee of the legislature through counsel, who proved that the "charity concerts" were really unobjectionable, and that the opposition to them was due entirely to zeal for an ancient text forbidding hebrews to labour on saturday in palestine. the injustice of stretching this prohibition so far as to try to stop concerts on sunday evenings in america was pointed out by representatives, not only of the f. r. a., but also of the international religious liberty association, which has been formed to protect christians who have kept the sabbath on the original day set apart in exodus and deuteronomy, from being punished for not prolonging their rest from honest labour over an additional day, first selected by an emperor whose decrees are not worthy of reverence. this association has offices in chicago, new york city, toronto, london, basel, and other cities; and its principles are ably advocated in a weekly paper entitled the _american sentinel_. representatives of this organisation assisted those of the f. r. a. in forcing the "charity concerts" question to be decided on its own merits, independent of ancient texts. the members of the legislative committee made a unanimous report against suppressing these harmless amusements; and their opinion was sustained by their colleagues. this victory was duly celebrated at the annual convention of the f. r. a., in boston, on may , . among the speakers that afternoon was the secretary of the i.r.l. a., who said: "if any nation under heaven has the right to confiscate one-seventh of my time, and tell how i shall and how i shall not use that, then the whole principle of inherent rights is denied, and it now is simply a matter of policy whether it shall not confiscate two-sevenths, three-sevenths, or seven-sevenths, and take away all my liberty." since , the agitation for religious equality has been carried on mainly by materialistic atheists and agnostics, with some assistance from spiritualists. these aggressive liberals continue to call themselves to liberty in the nineteenth century. "freethinkers," and to support the _investigatory truthseeker_, and other papers which have much to say against sunday laws, religious use of the bible in public schools, and exemption of churches from taxation. they often reprint "the demands of liberalism"; and one of these requests has been so amended in canada as to ask for the repeal of "all laws directly or indirectly enforcing the observance of sunday or the sabbath." the attack on the comstock laws has subsided; and no reference was made to them in in the call for a convention of the organisation which took the place of the whole system of national and local leagues in . the name then chosen was "the american secular union." the words, "and freethought federation" were added in , when two kindred associations were consolidated. it was under strong and constant pressure from these aggressive liberals that the great museums of art and natural history in new york were thrown open on sundays to longing crowds. one of the petitions was signed by representatives of a hundred and twelve labour organisations. the trustees of the art museum were induced to open it in the summer of by the contribution of $ , which had been collected by some young ladies for meeting extra expenses. thirty-eight thousand people took advantage, in august, , of their first opportunity to visit the museum of natural history on their one day of leisure; and these visitors were remarkable for good behaviour. there has been a similar experience in the boston art museum ever since the sunday opening in . vii. an exciting contest took place at chicago in . more than fifty nations were co-operating with the people of every one of the united states in commemorating the discovery of america. disreputable politicians had persuaded congress to pass a bill, by which closing the exposition on sundays was made a condition of receiving aid from the national treasury. the people of chicago had given three times as much, however, as congress; and there was much dissatisfaction among those citizens who had bought stock in the enterprise. the grounds had been kept open to visitors for some months, sunday after sunday, until the buildings were formally thrown open on may st; and the receipts had been liberal enough to prove that continuance of this course would be greatly to the advantage of these shareholders, while sunday closing might result in heavy loss. during the first three sundays of may the gates were kept shut by order of the board of national commissioners, made up of members from every state. their action and that of congress had been sanctioned by petitions bearing millions of signatures; but it is a significant fact that the alleged signers in pennsylvania were three times as many as the entire population of the state. many people had been counted again and again as members of different organisations; and this fraud was committed in other parts of the country. no attempt to find out what the people really wished was made except in texas; and there the majority was in favour of opening the gates. sabbatarians acknowledged publicly that they got little support from the secular press; and much opposition was made to them by some of the great dailies, as well as by the organs of aggressive liberalism. sunday after sunday in may the gates were surrounded by immense crowds who waited there vainly, hour after hour. many of them could evidently not come on other days; and the number was so large that the local directors, who had been elected by the shareholders, voted on may th for opening both gates and doors. this action was warmly approved by the leading citizens of chicago at a public meeting; but sabbatarians demanded that visitors be kept out by federal bayonets. the national commissioners, however, permitted the entrance of a hundred and fifty thousand people on the last sunday of may. on monday, the th, a judge of hebrew race, in a state court, pronounced the contract with congress null and void, because the money had not been fully paid. he decided, accordingly, that there was no excuse for violating the illinois law, which guaranteed the right of the citizens to visit on sunday the park where the exposition was held. this ensured the admission of visitors on june th, and for twenty of the remaining twenty-one sundays. the government buildings and many others, however, were closed; numerous exhibits, for instance, one of bibles, were shrouded in white; machinery was not allowed to run; there were no cheap conveyances about the ground; and there was little opportunity to get food or drink. no wonder that the sunday attendance was comparatively small; but there were one hundred and forty thousand paying visitors on october d and th. this was a victory of the press rather than the platform. there has been no successor to the original liberty league, and no rival to the sunday society. the latter was organised in in england, where there has been constant agitation since for opening the british museum, crystal palace, and other public institutions to their owners on sunday. dean stanley was president of this society; and among its members have been herbert spencer, huxley, tyndall, charles reade, lecky, miss cobbe, mrs. craik, and many prominent clergymen. the real issue was stated clearly at one of the public meetings by tyndall as follows: "we only ask a part of the sunday for intellectual improvement." the justice of this request has been so far admitted that on may , , all the national museums and galleries in london were opened for the first time on sunday. among these educational institutions from which the owners are no longer shut out are the national gallery and the south kensington, british, and natural history museums. many libraries and museums in other parts of england were opened some years earlier. viii. nowhere has the platform done so much to regenerate the pulpit as in chicago. religious history has been largely a record of strife. there was little brotherly feeling between clergymen of different sects in america before ; but they were often brought into co-operation by the great war. even unitarians were shocked to hear emerson speak with reverence of zoroaster in ; but he won only applause in when he spoke of the charm of finding "identities in all the religions of men." this was at a convention of the free religious association, which has pleaded from the first for "fellowship in religion," and often made this real upon its platform. the secretary, mr. potter, said in , that some of his hearers would live to see "a peace convention" "of representatives from all the great religions of the globe." chicago was so peculiarly cosmopolitan that the local managers of the columbian exposition were glad to have products of the various intellectual activities of mankind exhibited freely. ample provision was made for conventions in behalf of education and reform; but what was to be done for religion? an orthodox citizen of chicago, mr. charles carroll bonney, took counsel in with rev. j. li. jones, a unitarian, who has been preaching for twenty years the essential oneness of all religions. rabbis, bishops, and doctors of divinity were consulted also; and thus was formed the committee which invited "the leading representatives of the great historic religions of the world for the first time in history," to meet in friendly conference and show what they "hold and teach in common," as well as "the important distinctive truths" claimed for each religion. thus the columbian exposition offered an opportunity "to promote and deepen the spirit of human brotherhood among religious men of diverse faiths," "to inquire what light each religion has afforded or may afford to the other religions of the world," and, finally, "to bring the nations of the earth into a more friendly fellowship in the hope of securing a permanent international peace." thus was announced the "parliament of religions." all the members were to meet as equals; and there was to be neither controversy nor domination. the archbishop of canterbury and some leading protestants in america protested against abandoning the exclusive claims made for christianity; and similar objections were offered by the sultan of turkey. the jews, buddhists, and other believers in the ancient religions welcomed the invitation, as did the dignitaries of the greek church, and also the protestants on the continent of europe, and many members of every christian sect in the united states. the catholic archbishops of america appointed a delegate; and many methodist and episcopalian bishops agreed to attend the parliament. the sessions were held in the permanent building erected in the centre of chicago to accommodate the intellectual portion of the exposition. four thousand people assembled on monday, september , , to see a roman catholic cardinal mount the platform at a.m., in company with the shinto high-priest, an archbishop of the greek church, a hindoo monk, a confucian mandarin, and a long array of buddhists and taoists from the far east. all these dignitaries wore gorgeous robes of various colours. with them were a parsee girl, a theosophist, a moslem magistrate from india, a catholic archbishop from new zealand, a russian and an african prince, a negro bishop, several episcopalian prelates, rabbis, and jewesses, missionaries returned from many lands, doctors of divinity of various protestant sects, and the lady managers of the great fair. a prominent presbyterian pastor took the chair, and cordial declarations of the brotherhood of religions were made by catholic archbishops, the shinto high-priest, a buddhist delegate, and the confucian sent by the emperor of china. full hearing was given in subsequent sessions to advocates of the jain religion, which is perhaps the oldest, as well as of the parsee, jewish, moslem, taoist, and vedic faiths, besides a score of the leading christian denominations. the parliament lasted seventeen days; and the audiences were so large that most of the essays were repeated in overflow meetings. there were also some forty congresses held in smaller halls for speakers who could not find room on the great platforms. one of these meetings was held by jewesses, of whom nineteen spoke. some of them were also heard from the platform of the parliament; as were many clergy women. mr. underwood presided at the congress of evolutionists. there was also a convention of the free religionists, in connection with the parliament which they had made possible; but "the freethought federation" could get no chance to meet in the great building, or even to sell pamphlets. mr. bonney had proposed a union of all religions against irreligion; and this would have been in harmony with the policy adopted by many states of the american union. their sunday laws and similar statutes show a purpose of encouraging all the popular sects alike, with little regard for the rights of citizens outside of these favoured associations. most of the speakers in the parliament, especially the buddhists, were so zealous for the brotherhood of man, that they protested against any discrimination on account of theology. the great audiences gave most applause to the broadest declarations; and the few utterances of protestant bigotry were plainly out of place. the general tendency of the parliament was strongly in favour of recognising the equal rights of all mankind, without regard to belief or unbelief. all legislation inconsistent with this principle will be swept away, sooner or later, by that great wave of public opinion which broke forth during the parliament of religions. there the golden age of religion began, and war must give place to peace. chapter vii. the evolutionists we have seen how the transcendentalists tried to suppress vivisection, in spite of all it has done for the health and happiness of mankind. the sanguinary intolerance of robespierre and other disciples of rousseau was described earlier in this volume. and the notorious inability of carlyle and garrison to argue calmly with those who differed with them further illustrates the tendency of confidence in one's own infallibility. only he who knows that he may be wrong can admit consistently that those who reject his favourite beliefs may be right. the parliament of religions showed that there has been a growing conviction of the equal rights of holders of all forms of belief and unbelief; this conviction has been promoted by recognition of two great facts: first, that knowledge is based upon experience, and, second, that no one's life is so complete that he has nothing to learn from other people. if they do not believe as he does, it may be merely because experience has taught them truth which he still needs to learn. each one knows only in part; and therefore no one can afford to take it for granted that anyone else is completely in error. i. this tolerant method of thought has gained greatly in popularity since darwin proved its capacity to solve the problem of the origin of man. the possibility that all forms of life, even the highest, are results of a natural process of gradual development has often been suggested by poets and philosophers. the probability was much discussed by men of science early in the nineteenth century; but it was not until that sufficient evidence was presented to justify acceptance of evolution as anything better than merely a theory. twenty-one years had then elapsed since darwin began a long series of investigations. in the first place, he collected an irresistible number of cases of the influence of environment in causing variations in structure, and of the tendency of such variations to be inherited. most men who accepted these propositions admitted their insufficiency to account for the multiplicity of species; but the explanation became complete when darwin discovered that any plant or animal which is peculiarly fit for survival in the continual struggle for existence is likely to become largely represented in the next generation. a spontaneous variation which prolongs the life of its possessor may thus become not only more common but more firmly fixed in successive generations, until a new species is established. to this tendency darwin gave the name "natural selection"; but this term literally implies a deliberate choice by some superhuman power. herbert spencer proposed the phrase, "survival of the fittest"; but it must be remembered that the fitness is not necessarily that of greater moral worth. there may be merely such a superiority in strength and cunning as enables savages to devour a missionary. spencer says that "the expression, 'survival of the fittest,'" merely means "the leaving alive of those which are best able to utilise surrounding aids to life, and best able to combat or avoid surrounding dangers." weeds are fitter than flowers for natural growth; and joan of arc proved unfit to survive in the contest against wicked men. this discovery of darwin's made it his duty to avow a view which was so unpopular that he felt as if he were about "confessing a murder." he was making "a big book" out of the facts he had collected, when a manuscript statement of conclusions like his own was sent him by wallace, who had discovered independently the great fact of the survival of the fittest. darwin wished at first to resign all claim to originality; but his friends insisted on his taking a share of the honour of the discovery. accordingly an essay, which he had written in , was read in company with that sent him by wallace before the linnæan society, in london, on july , . the importance of the new view was so well understood that the entire first edition, amounting to copies, of darwin's _origin of species_, which book he wrote soon after, was sold on the day of publication, november , . other editions followed rapidly, with translations into many languages. no book of the century has been more revolutionary. ii. theologians still insisted on the supernatural creation of each species of plant or animal, and especially of the human race, in its final form. the inference that man had been developed by natural processes out of some lower animal, was easily drawn from the _origin of species_, though not expressly stated therein; and there was great alarm among the clergy. an anglican bishop, who was nicknamed "soapy sam" on account of his subserviency to public opinion, declared in a leading quarterly that darwin held views "absolutely incompatible" with the bible, and tending to "banish god from nature." other prominent episcopalians called the new book "an attempt to dethrone god," and propagate infidelity. cardinal manning denounced the "brutal philosophy" which taught that "there is no god, and the ape is our adam." both catholics and protestants started anti-darwinian societies in london, and, in , huxley saw "the whole artillery of the pulpit brought upon the doctrine of evolution and its supporters." the example of england was followed promptly by france and germany. america was distracted by civil war; and her men of science were so few and timid that the denunciations of darwinism which were prompted by the theological and metaphysical prejudices of agassiz were generally accepted as final decisions. the position of the unitarians and transcendentalists may be judged from the fact that, during a period of nearly three years after the publication of the _origin of species_, nothing was said about darwinism in the extremely liberal divinity school where i was then a student. evolutionism had to look for advocates in america to spiritualists like denton or unbelievers like underwood at that period. clerical opposition increased the general unwillingness of scientific men to snatch up new views. as early as , however, darwin received the support of the famous geologist, lyell, as well as of a younger naturalist destined to achieve even more brilliant success. huxley has distinguished himself in arguments against the scientific value of the bible. among his other exploits was a demonstration that a chain, in which no link is missing, connects the horse with a small, extinct quadruped possessed of comparatively few equine peculiarities. in this case, transformation of species is an undeniable fact. other young naturalists in england, as well as in germany, gradually became willing to push the new view to its last results; and darwin was encouraged to publish, in , his elaborate account of the origin of our race, entitled _the descent of man_. the wrath of the churches blazed forth once more; and gladstone entered the arena. englishmen ventured no longer to say much about the differences between moses and darwin; for the obvious retort would have been, "so much the worse for moses." a german lutheran, however, bade his congregation choose between christ and darwin; and the infallibility of moses was asserted so zealously by a parisian catholic as to win formal thanks from the pope. america was now wide awake; irreligious tendencies were assigned to evolutionism by the president of yale, as well as by some princeton professors; and one of these latter warned believers in the development of man that they would be punished as infidels after death. the verdict of men of science has at last been pronounced so plainly as to be accepted by thoroughly educated people in the northern states; but the southerners are more bigoted. even so late as , a professor of biology at the university of texas was dismissed, in violation of contract, for teaching evolutionism. a similar offence had been found sufficient, ten years before, by the presbyterians of south carolina, for driving a devout member of their own sect from his chair in a theological seminary. that popular writer on geology, winchell, was requested in by a methodist bishop to resign a professorship at nashville, tennessee, where he had expressed doubt of the descent of all men from adam. the geologist refused to resign, and the chair was suppressed. voltaire's chief grievance was the intolerance of christianity. paine and bradlaugh complained that there was much immorality in the old testament. the most damaging of recent attacks have been made in the name of science. genesis and geology had been found irreconcilable before the appearance of darwinism; but the new system widened the breach. the most serious offence to the theologian, however, was that he could not longer point without danger of contradiction to beneficial peculiarities in the structure of plants and animals, as marks of the divine hand. the old argument about design was met by a demonstration that such peculiarities were apt to arise spontaneously, and become permanent under the pressure of the struggle for existence. the theologian has had to retreat to the position that darwinism has not accounted for the soul, the intellect, and especially the intuitions. iii. whether darwin succeeded or not in this part of his work is not so important as the fact that, several years before he announced his great discovery, an elaborate account of the process by which the powers of thought and feeling have been developed gradually out of the lowest forms of consciousness was given by herbert spencer. the first edition of his _principles of psychology_, published in , carried the explanation so far as to show the real origin and value of the intuitions. their importance had been almost ignored by thinkers who relied entirely on individual experience, and greatly overrated by the transcendentalists; but neither set of philosophers could explain these mysterious ideas. the infallibility of conscience is not to be reconciled with such facts as that paul thought it his duty to persecute the christians, or that garrison, sumner, john brown, and stonewall jackson were among the most conscientious men of the century. the ancient greeks agreed in recognising justice, but not benevolence, among the cardinal virtues; precisely the opposite error was made by kant and miss cobbe; and a tabular view of all the lists of fundamental intuitions which have been made out by noted metaphysicians might be mistaken for a relic from the tower of babel. emerson's religious instincts were not so much impressed as parker's with the personality of god and immortality; but the difference seems almost insignificant when we remember what ideas of theology arose spontaneously in new zealand. how widely the intuition of beauty varies may be judged from the inability of aesthetic chinamen to admire the white teeth and rosy cheeks of an english belle. intuition is plainly not an infallible oracle; but is it merely a misleading prejudice? the puzzle was solved when spencer showed that intuition is a result of the experience of the race. courage, for instance, was so important for the survival of a primitive tribe in the struggle against its neighbours, that every man found his comfort and reputation depend mainly on his prowess. if he fought desperately he gained wealth, honour, and plenty of wives; but cowards were maltreated by other men and scorned even by the women. the bravest man left the largest number of offspring; and every boy was told so early and earnestly to be courageous as to develop a pugnacious instinct, which has come down to the present day in much greater strength than is needed for the ordinary demands of civilised life. we love war too much, because our ancestors were in danger of not loving it enough for their own safety. as courage ceased to be the one all-important excellence, industry, fidelity, and honesty were found so useful as to be encouraged with a care which has done much to mould conscience into its present shape. other virtues were inculcated in the same way. the welfare of the family was found to depend largely on the fidelity of wife to husband; and the result was that chastity has held a much higher place in the feminine than in the masculine conscience. so our religious instincts owe much of their strength to the zeal with which our ancestors sought to avert the divine wrath. thus we have ideas which were originally only vague inferences from primitive experience, but which have gradually gained such strength and definiteness, that they have much more power than if we had thought them out unaided by the past. spencer himself says, "there have been, and still are, developing in the race certain fundamental moral intuitions" which "are the results of accumulated experiences of utility, gradually organised and inherited," but "have come to be quite independent of conscious experience." they "have no apparent basis in the individual experiences of utility"; and thus conscience has acquired its characteristic disinterestedness. when we feel this inner prompting to a brave or honest action which must be done promptly or left undone, it is our duty to act without hesitation or regard to our own interest. we are serving our race in the way which its experience has taught. suppose, however, that there is time enough for deliberation, and that we see a possibility of harm to our neighbours, our family, or even to our own highest welfare. in this case, we ought to compare the good and evil results carefully. we should also do well to consider what was the decision of the consciences of the best and wisest men under similar circumstances. if we neglect these precautions, we may be in danger of following not conscience but passion. there is also a possibility that conscience may embody only such primitive ideas of duty as have since been found incorrect. this has often been the case with persecutors and monarchists. generosity is still too apt to take an impulsive and reckless form which perpetuates pauperism. spencer has taught us that conscience is worthy not only of obedience, but of education. spencer's attempt to substitute a thoughtful for a thoughtless goodness of character has been much aided by his protest against such undiscriminating exhortations to self-sacrifice as are constantly heard from the pulpit. good people, and especially good women, welcome the idea of giving up innocent pleasure and enduring needless pain. the glory of martyrdom blinds them to the fact that, as spencer says in his _psychology_, "pains are the correlatives of actions injurious to the organism, while pleasures are the correlatives of actions conducive to its welfare." in other words, "pleasures are the incentives to life-supporting acts, and pains the deterrents from life-destroying acts." abstinence from pleasure may involve loss of health. self-sacrifice is scarcely possible without some injury to mind or body; as is the case with people who make it a religious duty to read no interesting books and take scarcely any exercise on sunday. it is further true that "the continual acceptance of benefits at the expense of a fellow-being is morally injurious"; as "the continual giving up of pleasures and continual submission to pains are physically injurious." blind self-sacrifice "curses giver and receiver--physically deteriorates the one and morally deteriorates the other," "the outcome of the policy being destruction of the worthy in making worse the unworthy." no wonder that men are stronger, and also more selfish, than women. almost all self-sacrifice involves loss of individual liberty. the subjection of women has been deepened by their readiness to sacrifice themselves to those they love; their fondness for martyrdom often leads them into the sin of marrying without love; and generosity of heart facilitates ruin. women would really be more virtuous if they felt less obligation to their lovers and more to their race. iv. spencer's psychological discoveries were corollaries to that great principle of evolution of which he made the following announcement as early as in the _westminster review_. after declaring his belief in "that divergence of many races from one race which we inferred must have continually been occurring during geologic time," he stated that "the law of all progress is to be found in these varied evolutions of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous," or in other words, "out of the simple into the complex." the discoveries of darwin and wallace were not announced before , but spencer avowed in his belief in "the theory of evolution" or "development hypothesis," according to which "complex organic forms may have arisen by successive modifications out of simple ones." it was without any aid or suggestion from darwin that spencer's statement of the law of evolution was brought into the final form published in . evolution was then described as change, not only from the simple to the complex, but also from the chaotic to the concentric and consolidated, or, in spencer's own words, "from an indefinite incoherent homogeneity to a definite coherent heterogeneity." progress, he says, consists in integration as well as differentiation. there is an increase in permanence and definiteness as well as in variety. higher forms are not only more complex and unlike than lower ones, but also more stable and more strongly marked. spencer has been represented by some transcendentalists as darwin's pupil; but the whole system just described would, in all probability, have been built up in substantially its present form, if both darwin and wallace had kept their discoveries to themselves. the only difference would have been that spencer could not have been sustained by such a great mass of evidence. all these facts were collected by darwin merely to prove the physical development of men and other animals from lower forms of life; but spencer showed that all the phenomena of thought and feeling, as well as of astronomy, geology, and chemistry, are results of the great laws of integration and differentiation. all human history and social relations can be accounted for in this way. and if this extension had not been given to the principle of evolution, darwin's discoveries might soon have ceased to have much interest, except for students of natural history. each of the two great evolutionists helped the other gain influence; but their co-operation was almost as unintentional as that of two luminaries which form a double star. v. spencer has done much to diminish intolerance, by teaching, as early as , that all religions are necessary steps in the upward march of evolution. he has also attempted to reconcile religion and science, by teaching that the one all-essential belief is in a great unknowable reality, which is not only inscrutable but inconceivable. in writing about this supreme power, he uses capitals with a constancy which would look like an assumption of knowledge, if the same habit were not followed in regard to many other words of much less importance. he admits that "we cannot decide between the alternative suppositions, that phenomena are due to the variously conditioned workings of a single force, and that they are due to the conflict of two forces." "matter cannot be conceived," he says, "except as manifesting forces of attraction and repulsion"; but he also says that these antagonistic and conflicting forces "must not be taken as realities but as our symbols of the reality," "the forms under which the workings of the unknowable are cognisable." this creed is accepted by many american evolutionists. it is the doctrine of one of spencer's most elaborate and brilliant interpreters, professor john fiske, of such popular clergymen as doctors minot j. savage and lyman abbott, and of many of the members of that energetic organisation, "the brooklyn ethical association." _the open court_ of chicago and other periodicals are working avowedly for "the religion of science"; but that is not to be established without much closer conformity to the old-fashioned creeds and ceremonies than has been made by spencer. his later works seem more orthodox than his earlier ones; but his final decision is that "the very notions, origin, cause, and purpose, are relations belonging to human thought, which are probably irrelevant to the ultimate reality." he has also admitted that the proposition, "evolution is caused by mind," "cannot be rendered into thought." and he is right in saying that he has nowhere suggested worship. whether he has proposed a reconciliation, or only a compromise, whether evolutionism will ever be as popular in the pulpit as transcendentalism, and whether there is not more reality in the forces of attraction and repulsion than in spencer's great unknowable, are problems which i will not discuss. darwin was an agnostic like huxley, who held that "we know nothing of what may be beyond phenomena," and "science commits suicide when she adopts a creed." huxley pronounced the course of nature "neither moral nor immoral, but non-moral," and declared that "the ethical progress of society depends not on imitating the cosmic process but on combating it." the severity of his criticism of the gospel narratives called out threats of prosecution for blasphemy. he avowed "entire concurrence" with haeckel, who holds that belief in a personal god and an immortal soul are incompatible with the fundamental principles of evolution. the german scientist argues in his elaborate history of the development of animals, that life is no manifestation of divine power, working with benevolent purpose, but merely the necessary result of unconscious forces, inherent in the chemical constitution and physical properties of matter, and acting mechanically according to immutable laws. the position of haeckel and huxley is all the more significant because frederic harrison knows of "no single thinker in europe who has come forward to support this religion of an unknown cause." vi. a much more important controversy has been called out by spencer's theory of the limits of government. as early as he proposed "the limitation of state action to the maintenance of equitable relations among citizens." his _social statics_ demanded, in , as a necessary condition of high development, "the liberty of each, limited only by the like liberty of all." his ideal would be a government where "every man has freedom to do all he wills, provided he infringes not the equal freedom of any other man." these propositions are repeated in the revised edition of , which differs from the earlier one in omitting a denial of the right of private property in land, and also a demand for female suffrage. how far spencer had changed his views may be seen in his volume on _justice_. both editions of _social statics_ deny the right of governments to support churches, public schools, boards of health, poorhouses, lighthouses, or mints. spencer would have titles to land guaranteed by the state, and property-holders protected against unjust lawsuits; but otherwise the government ought to confine itself, he thinks, to managing the army, navy, and police. this position is defended by an appeal to the fact that the citizen is most energetic and intelligent where he is most free to act for himself. no american is as helpless before pestilence or famine as a russian peasant, or as afraid to go to a burning house until summoned by the police. a despotism may begin with a strong army; but it ends, like the roman empire, in the weakness which it has brought on by crushing the spirit of its soldiers. strong governments make weak men. never was there a mightier army than was given by the french republic to napoleon. industrial prosperity depends even more closely than military glory on the energy of men who have been at liberty to think and act freely. people develop most vigorously where they are least meddled with. the average man knows much more than his rulers do about his own private business; and he is active to promote it in ways which secure the general welfare. great stress is laid not only in _social statics_ but in spencer's book on _the man versus the state_, and in several essays, on the many times that the british government has increased an evil by trying to cure it. what is said about its extravagance will not surprise any american who remembers what vast sums are squandered by congress. the post-office is often spoken of as proof that our government could run our railroads; but one of boston's best postmasters said, "no private business could be managed like this without going into bankruptcy." the british government has a monopoly of the telegraph; and introduction of the telephone was very difficult in consequence. in victoria, the postmaster-general has abused his privileges so much as to appoint a "sporting agent" to telegraph the results of a horse-race; and this same highly protectionist colony has had laws forbidding any shop to be open after p.m., except on saturday, and any woman to work more than forty-eight hours a week in any factory. how governments interfered in former centuries with people's right to feed, clothe, employ, and amuse themselves, seems almost inconceivable at present. persecution was one among many forms of mischievous meddling. locke, in arguing for toleration in , was obliged to take the ground that "the whole jurisdiction of the magistrate reaches only" to securing unto all the people "life, liberty, health," and also "outward things such as money, lands, houses, furniture, and the like." "government," he said, "hath no end but preservation, and therefore can never have a right to destroy, enslave, or designedly to impoverish the subject." clearer language was used by those french patriots who declared in the constitution of that liberty consists in ability to do everything which brings no harm to others; and, two years afterwards, that the liberty of each citizen should extend to where that of some other citizen begins. nearly fifty years later, a theory very like spencer's was published by wilhelm von humboldt, brother of the great naturalist. among the many writers who have held that government ought not to be merely limited but repudiated totally was thoreau. it was in that this zealous abolitionist publicly renounced his allegiance to a great anti-slavery commonwealth, and that he asserted, in _walden_, the necessity of preserving individual liberty by conforming as little as possible to any social usages, even that of working regularly in order to support one's self and family in comfort. that same year, spencer showed in his essay on _manners and fashion_ the difference between a regulation by which public opinion tries to prevent rude people from making themselves unnecessarily disagreeable to their neighbours, and one which encourages dissipation by arbitrarily check-ing innocent amusement. even in the latter case, however, there is, as he says, but little gain from any solitary nonconformity. reform must be carried on in co-operation. that powerful assailant of transcendentalism, john stuart mill, was not an evolutionist; but it was largely due to his liberal aid that the system of differentiation and integration was published. this generosity was consistent with his own position, that all opinions ought to have a hearing, and especially those which are novel and unpopular, for they are peculiarly likely to contain some exposure of ancient error or revelation of new truth. this fact was set forth with such ability in his book, _on liberty_, in , that several long passages were quoted in the public protest, delivered in ohio five years later by vallandigham, against the war then carried on for bringing back the seceded states. mill holds that neither government nor public opinion ought to interfere with any individual, except "to prevent doing harm to others." he says, for instance, that there would be no tyranny in forcing parents to let their children have education enough to become safe members of society. such a law could scarcely be justified by the principle of giving all the liberty to each compatible with the like liberty of all. among the restrictions which mill mentions as oppressive are those in england and america against selling liquor, gambling, and sunday amusements. he admits the difficulty of deciding "how far liberty may be legitimately invaded for the prevention of crime." vii. it was in full conformity with the principles of mill, spencer, and locke that the constitution of louisiana, as revised in , declared that the only legitimate object of government "is to protect the citizen in the enjoyment of life, liberty, and property. when it assumes other functions, it is usurpation and oppression." similar sentiments have been occasionally expressed in political platforms. such narrow limits have not, so far as i know, ever been observed in the united states or in any other civilised land. few people love liberty so much as not to be willing that the state should give them security against conflagration and contagious disease. there is also a general demand for such safety as is given by roads, streets, bridges, lighthouses, and life-saving stations. the necessity of hospitals, asylums, and poorhouses is manifest. if all this expense had to be met by public-spirited individuals, it is probable that their wealth would prove insufficient. it is further necessary for the public safety that there should be compulsory vaccination during epidemics of smallpox, confinement of dangerous lunatics and tramps, rescue of children from vicious parents, and maintenance of what ought not to be called compulsory but guaranteed education. marriage has to be made binding for the protection of mothers as well as children. the thirst for drink needs at least as much restraint as is kept up in scandinavia. and the tendency of bad money to drive out good is strong enough to justify laws against circulation of depreciated currency. public schools are particularly important in america, where presidential and congressional elections are apt to turn on financial issues which can scarcely be understood by men not thoroughly educated. spencer's objections apply more closely to the european system, that of centralisation of management, than to the american. it is well to know also that he was misled by a hasty reference, perhaps by some assistant, to an english statistician named fletcher. this high authority did admit, in , that he found "a superficial evidence against instruction." he went on, however, to say much which is not mentioned in _social statics_, and which proved the evidence to be only superficial. by classifying crimes according to enormity, he showed that the worst were most frequent in the least educated districts. he also discovered that those counties in england where ability to sign the marriage register was most common were most free from paupers, dangerous criminals, and illegitimate children. "the conclusion is therefore irresistible," says fletcher, "that education is essential to the security of modern society." most of the other testimony brought forward in _social statics_ is invalidated by fletcher's method; and spencer added nothing in the second edition to the insufficient statements in the first. british education has improved greatly in both quality and quantity since ; but the prisons of england and wales had only two-thirds as many inmates in as in , and only one-half as large a part of the population. the most dangerous prisoners were only one-third as numerous in and as forty-five years earlier; and the percentage of forgers only one-tenth as great as in . we ought further to remember the almost complete unanimity of opinion in favour of free education wherever it is universal. public schools in america are all the more useful because they are superintended by town and city officials, elected in great part by men who know them personally. this is also the case with the boards of health, and the managers of poorhouses, cemeteries, public libraries, and parks. among other subjects of local self-government are the roads, bridges, streets, and sewers. our large cities are notoriously misgoverned, but it will be easier to raise the character of the officials than to contract their powers. much is to be hoped from civil service reform, proportional representation, and nonpartisan elections. town affairs are usually so carefully looked after by people not in office as to be managed for the public welfare. both in towns and cities the tendency is to enlarge rather than contract the functions of the government. a proposal that any city should let tenements or sell coal more cheaply than is done by individuals, would seem to be for the advantage of everybody except a few payers of heavy taxes. the majority of voters would care little about increase of taxation, in comparison with the prospect of more demand for labour and greater activity in business. it is easy to make extravagance popular where the majority rules. our state constitutions would probably make it impossible for coal to be sold or tenements let by cities and towns; but these latter often carry on gas-works, water-works, electric roads, and other highly beneficial industries. this may be necessary to check the rapacity of corporations; but otherwise there is too much danger of extravagance, discouragement of individual enterprise, and delay in improving the processes monopolised by the municipality. some evils would be lessened by a transfer of the control of lighthouses and life-saving stations from the national government to that of the nearest cities, or else of single states. our people are much better able to judge of the success of state than of federal legislation and management. of course the chief duties of the state are to pass laws for the protection of life and property against crime, and to manage such indispensable penal, charitable, and educational institutions as are not provided by the municipalities. it is still necessary for the states of our union to keep up the militia; but perhaps the best thing that could be done for the public safety would be to have tramps kept from crime, and assisted to employment by a state police. ownership of real estate would be more secure, and sale easier, if titles were guaranteed by the state; and it would also do well, as spencer suggests, to help people of moderate means resist lawsuits brought to extort money. it seems, at all events, well that our states keep up their boards of health, and their supervision of banks, railroads, steamboats, and factories. there are a great many unnecessary laws, as, for instance, was one in massachusetts for selling coal below market price. this was fortunately decided to be unconstitutional; but whether this commonwealth ought to continue to supply free text-books, especially in high schools, seems to me questionable. many individualists object to laws against gambling, selling liquor, and other conduct which does no direct injury except to those who take part voluntarily. there are vicious tendencies enough in human nature, i think, to justify attempts to keep temptation out of sight. no advantage of this kind can be claimed for the sunday laws in our eastern and southern states. it is certainly desirable to have one day a week of rest from labour and business; but it is equally true that a man's ploughing his field or weeding his garden does not infringe on the liberty of his neighbours, diminish their security of person and property, or encourage their vicious propensities, even on sunday. it is setting a bad example to break any law; but i do not think that any citizen of massachusetts was seriously corrupted by resisting the fugitive slave act; and i doubt if any vermonter was morally the worse for breaking the law in that state against sunday "visits from house to house, except from motives of humanity or charity, or for moral and religious edification." it is better to have the laws obeyed intelligently than blindly; and those really worthy of respect would have more authority if every prohibition which is never enforced, except out of malice, were repealed. much aid is given to morality by such religious observances as are voluntary and conscientious; but compulsory observance breeds both slaves and rebels. how far our sunday laws are meant to encourage the peculiar usages of the popular sects is seen in the fact that, since , about professed christians, who had kept the sabbath on the day set apart in the bible, were arrested on the charge of having profaned sunday by such actions as ploughing a retired field, weeding a garden, cutting wood needed for immediate use, or making a dress. they refused to pay any fine; most of them were imprisoned accordingly; in one case the confinement lasted days; two deaths were hastened by incarceration; and in the summer of eight of these "saturdarians," as they were nicknamed, were working in a chain-gang on the roads in tennessee. one of the eight was a clergyman. among the commonwealths which prosecuted observers of the original sabbath as sabbath-breakers were georgia, maryland, missouri, arkansas, ohio, pennsylvania, massachusetts, and seven other states. such prosecutions were too much like persecutions; for people who kept neither saturday nor sunday were not so much molested. if the sunday laws were really meant for the public welfare, every citizen would be allowed to choose his own sabbath, and no one who kept saturday sacred would be required to rest on sunday also. such liberal legislation has actually been passed by rhode island and many other states. how strict the law is against doing business on sunday may be judged from the fact that in a decrepit old woman was sent to jail in new york city for selling a couple of bananas, and a boy of fifteen was arrested for selling five cents' worth of coal in january. three men were fined for selling umbrellas in the street on a rainy sunday in , and others were arrested for selling five cents' worth of ice. people who have no refrigerators suffer under the difficulty of buying ice, fruit, and meat on a hot sunday in our eastern cities. sunday laws and customs differ so widely in our various states, that they cannot all be wise and just. rest from labour and business is secured in southern california, without state legislation, by the action of public opinion; and were this to become too weak, it would be reinforced by the trades-unions. personal liberty is not necessarily violated by laws prohibiting disturbance of public worship; but it would be if anyone were compelled to testify in court, or sit on the jury, or do any other business elsewhere, on any day set apart for rest by his conscience and religion. there seems to be little necessity for other legislation, except under peculiar local circumstances to which town and city magistrates are better able than members of state and national legislatures to do justice. the question, what places of business that have no vicious tendencies ought to be allowed to open on sunday, might settle itself, as does the question how early they are to close on other days of the week. there needs no law to prevent business being done at night. stores which could offer nothing that many people need to buy on sunday, would have so few customers that the proprietors could ill afford to open their doors. where the demand is as great and innocent as it is for fresh meat and fruit in hot weather, the interest of the proprietor is no more plain than is the duty of the legislator and magistrate. people employed in hotels, stables, telegraph offices, libraries, museums, and parks, can, of course, protect themselves from overwork, as domestic servants do, by stipulating for holidays and half-holidays. whatever may be the gain to public health from cessation of labour and business on sunday, there is no such advantage, but rather injury, from the prohibition of healthy recreations and amusements, which are acknowledged to be perfectly innocent on at least six days of the week. sunday is by no means so strictly observed, especially in this respect, on the continent of europe as in the united states. sabbatarianism is peculiarly an american and british institution; and this fact justifies the position that it is by no means a necessary condition of the security, or even the welfare, of civilised nations. if our sunday laws cannot be proved to be necessary, they must be admitted to be oppressive. over-taxation is but a slight grievance compared with the tyranny of sending men and women to jail for inability or unwillingness to pay the fines imposed in by the state of tennessee for working on their farms, or in massachusetts soon after for playing cards in their own rooms. further consideration of the question, what amusements should be permitted on sunday, will be found in an appendix. such problems are peculiarly unfit for treatment by our central government. its chief duty, of course, is protection of our people against invasion and rebellion; and the authority of the president and congress ought not to be weakened by vain attempts to settle disputes which would be dealt with much more satisfactorily by the cities and towns. a sunday law too lax for pennsylvania might be too strict for california. the system of post-offices is too well adapted for the general welfare to be given up hastily; but the government ought to surrender the monopoly which now makes it almost impossible for citizens to free themselves from dependence on disobliging or incompetent postmasters. i have nothing to say against the census, education, health, and patent bureaus, nor against the smithsonian museum, except that our citizens have a right to use their own property as freely on sunday as on any other day of the week. i do not see why our government should have more than that of other nations to do with the issue of paper money; but i leave the bank question to abler pens. the tariff is a much plainer issue. we are told in _social statics_ that "a government trenches upon men's liberties of action" in obstructing commercial intercourse; "and by so doing directly reverses its function. to secure for each man the fullest freedom to exercise his faculties, compatible with the like freedom of all others, we find to be the state's duty. now trade-prohibitions and trade-restrictions not only do not secure this freedom, but they take it away, so that in enforcing them the state is transformed from a maintainer of rights into a violator of rights." the obstacles to importation deliberately set up by american tariffs, indirectly check exportation; for unwillingness to buy from any other nation diminishes not only its willingness but its ability to buy our products in return. the united states are actually exporting large amounts of cattle, wheat, and cotton, as well as of boots and shoes, agricultural implements, steel rails, hardware, watches, and cotton cloth. these commodities are produced by americans who can defy foreign competition. in some cases the tariff enables them to raise their prices at home, to the loss of their fellow-citizens. prices abroad cannot be raised by our government. what it can and does do is to burden both farms and factories by duties on lumber, glass, coal, wool, woollen goods, and many other imports. the rates are arranged with a view to increase, not individual liberty or public security, but the profits of managers of enterprises which would not pay without such help. men who are carrying on profitable industries have to make up part of what is lost in unprofitable ones. in fact, the cost of living is increased needlessly for all our citizens, except the privileged few. there would be less injustice in aiding new enterprises by bounties; but the proper authorities to decide how much money should be voted for such purposes are the cities and towns. some of the makers of our national constitution wished to make tariff legislation in congress impossible except by a majority of two-thirds; and this might properly be required for all measures not planned in behalf of individual liberty or the public safety. much of the business now done by the nation ought to be transferred to the states. they took the lead between and in improving rivers and harbours, building railroads, and digging canals. the result of transferring such work to congress was that in it voted $ , , to carry on undertakings, more than one-fourth of which had been judged unnecessary by engineers. two years later, four times as many new jobs were voted as had been recommended by the house committee. among these plans was one, in regard to the hudson river, which was the proper business of the state of new york. the extravagance of our pension system is notorious. if the restriction proposed by spencer is applicable anywhere, it is to central rather than local governments. viii. great as are the evils of unnecessary laws, spencer's remedy is too sweeping to be universally supported by evolutionists. huxley protests against it as "administrative nihilism," and declares that if his next-door neighbour is allowed to bring up children "untaught and untrained to earn their living, he is doing his best to restrict my freedom, by increasing the burden of taxation for the support of gaols and workhouses which i have to pay." his conclusion is that "no limit is or can be theoretically set to state interference." the impossibility of drawing "a hard and fast line" is admitted even by so extreme an individualist as wordsworth donisthorpe, who complains that "crimes go unpunished in england," while the "great national pickpocket" is busy "reading through all the comedies and burlesques brought out in the theatres," "running after little boys who dare to play pitch-farthing," or "going on sledging expeditions to the north pole." lecky agrees so far with spencer and mill as to say, in _democracy and liberty_, that punishment should "be confined, as a general rule, to acts which are directly injurious to others," and accordingly that "with sunday amusements in private life, the legislator should have no concern." as a check to over-legislation, he recommends biennial sessions, instead of annual; and he protests against the despotism of trades-unions. his strongest point against spencer is that sanitary legislation has added several years to the average length of life in england and wales, prevented more than eighty thousand deaths there in a single year, and actually reduced the death-rate of the army in india by more than four-fifths. ix. spencer has succeeded in increasing the number of individualists so much, that donisthorpe says they can be counted by the thousand, though there were scarcely enough in in england to fill an omnibus. transcendentalism had made individualism comparatively common long before in america. the principle of not interfering with other people, except to prevent their wronging us, is fully applicable, as spencer says, to the relation of husband with wife, and also to that of parent and teacher with child. it could also be followed with great advantage in the case of domestic servants. there can be no doubt of the correctness of the position, taken in the _principles of sociology_, that delight in war has a tendency to stifle love of liberty. sparta, russia, and the new german empire show that where the ideal of a nation is military glory, "the individual is owned by the state." the citizens are so graded, that "all are masters of those below and subjects of those above." the workers must live for the benefit of the fighters, and both be controlled closely by the government. armies flourish on the decay of individual rights. how difficult it was to avoid this, during some bloody years, even in america, has been shown in chapter iv. a nation of shopkeepers is better fitted than a nation of soldiers to develop free institutions. one of spencer's objections to socialism is that it would "end in military despotism." nothing else could replace competition so far as to keep a nation industrious. spencer is right in saying, "benefit and worth must vary together," which means that wages and salaries should correspond to value of work. otherwise, "the society decays from increase of its least worthy members and decrease of its most worthy members." these facts are so generally known already, that there is less danger than is thought by spencer, of either the national establishment of socialism or of a ruinous extension of governmental interference. the average american is altogether too willing to have his wealthy neighbours taxed for his own benefit; but he knows that he can make himself and his family more comfortable by his own exertions than his poor neighbours are; and he is not going to let any government forbid his doing so. he does not object to public libraries, and perhaps would not to free theatres; but he would vote down any plan which would prevent his using his money and time to his own greatest advantage. he is sometimes misled by plausible excuses for wasting public money, and arresting innocent people; but he insists on at least some better pretext than was made for the old-fashioned meddling with food, clothing, business, and religion. he may not call himself an individualist; but he will never practise socialism. this sort of man is already predominant in great britain, as well as in america; and multiplication of the type elsewhere is fostered by mighty tendencies. the duty of treating every form of religion according to ethical and not theological standards is rapidly becoming the practice of all civilised governments; and persecution is peculiar to turkey and russia. these two despotisms form, with germany, the principal exceptions to the rule that political liberty is on the increase throughout europe, especially in the form of local self-government. the nineteenth century has made even the poorest people more secure than ever before from oppression and lawless violence, as well as from pestilence and famine. destitution is relieved more amply and wisely, while industry and intelligence are encouraged by opportunity to enjoy comforts and luxuries once almost or altogether out of the reach of monarchs. the fetters formerly laid on trade of cities with their own suburbs have been broken; and the examples of great britain and new south wales are proving that nations profit more by helping than hindering one another in the broad paths of commerce. industrial efficiency has certainly been much promoted by the tendency, not only of scientific education but of manual training, to substitute knowledge of realities for quarrels about abstractions. all these changes favour the extension of free institutions and also of individual liberty, wherever peace can be maintained. industrial nations gain more than warlike ones by encouraging intellectual independence; but the general advantage is great enough to ensure the final triumph of liberty. appendix: sunday recreation this is much more common in new england and great britain than it was in the eighteenth century. the dinner has become the best, instead of the worst in the week. scarcely anyone rises early; and nobody is shocked at reading novels. there is an enormous circulation in both english and american cities of sunday papers whose aim is simply amusement. there is plenty of lively music in the parlours, as well as of merry talk in which clergymen are ready to lead. people who have comfortable homes can easily make sunday the pleasant-est day of the week. for people who cannot get much recreation at home, there are increasing opportunities to go to concerts, picture-galleries, and museums. among the reading-rooms thrown open on sunday in america about was that of the boston public library; and no difference is now made in this great institution among the seven days, except that more children's books and magazines are accessible on sunday. what important museums are now open in london, boston, and new york have been already mentioned in chapter vi. these opportunities are still limited; but there is no obstacle, except that of bad weather, to excursions on foot or bicycle, behind horse or locomotive, in electric car or steamboat, to beaches, ponds, and other places of amusement. the public parks are crowded all day long in summer; and people who go to church in the morning have no scruple about walking or riding for pleasure in the afternoon. these practices were expressly sanctioned by massachusetts in , and by new jersey in ; and the old law against sunday visiting has been repealed since in vermont. the newer states have taken care not to pass such absurd statutes. i believe that the majority of our people were willing, as for instance was that prominent episcopalian, bishop potter, to have the chicago exposition open on sundays. theatres and baseball grounds attract crowds of visitors in our cities, especially those west of the alleghanies. whatever changes are made in the east will probably be in the direction of greater liberty. the only question is how fast the present opportunities of recreation ought to be increased. no one would now agree with dr. chalmers in calling the sabbath "an expedient for pacifying the jealousies of a god of vengeance." good people have ceased to think, as the puritans did, that "pleasures are most carefully to be avoided" on every day of the week, or that "amity to ourselves is enmity against god." preachers no longer recommend "abstaining not only from unlawful pleasures, but also from lawful delights." popular clergymen now say with dr. bellows: "amusement is not only a privilege but a duty, indispensable to health of body and mind, and essential even to the best development of religion itself." "i put amusement among the necessaries and not the luxuries of life." "it is as good a friend to the church as to the theatre, to sound morals and unsuperstitious piety as to health and happiness,... an interest of society which the religious class instead of regarding with hostility and jealousy, ought to encourage and direct." "there is hardly a more baleful error in the world than that which has produced the feud between morality and amusement, piety and pleasure." the fact is that pleasure means health. as i have said in a newspaper entitled _the index_: "it is a violation of the laws of health for anyone, not absolutely bed-ridden or crushed by fatigue, to spend thirty-six hours without some active exercise in the open air. trying to take enough on saturday to last until monday, is dangerous, and most people have little chance for healthy exercise except on sunday. the poor, ignorant girl who has had no fresh air for six days ought to be encouraged to take it freely on the seventh. and we all need our daily exercise just as much as our regular food and sleep. the two thousand delegates who asked, in behalf of ninety thousand working men, in , to have the crystal palace open on sundays, were right in declaring that 'physical recreation is as necessary to the working man as food and drink on the sabbath.' the fact is that pleasure is naturally healthy even when not involving active exercise. dark thoughts breed disease like dark rooms. the man who never laughs has something wrong about his digestion or his conscience. herbert spencer has proved that our pleasant actions are beneficial, while painful ones are injurious both to ourselves and to our race. (_principles of psychology_, vol. i., pp. - ; am. ed.). thus sunday amusements are needed for the general health. "they are also necessary for the preservation of morality. this consists in performing the actions which benefit ourselves and our neighbours, in other words, pleasant ones, and abstaining from whatever is painful and injurious. it is only in exceptional cases that we can make others happy by suffering pain ourselves. now and then the paths of virtue and pleasure diverge; but they always come together again. as a rule, they traverse precisely the same ground and in exactly the same direction. this is very fortunate; for if pleasure were always vicious, virtue would be hateful and impossible. the most blessed of all peacemakers is he who keeps virtue and pleasure from falling out. there is no better text than that which the little girl said she had learned at sunday-school: 'chain up a child and away she will go!' even so strict a man as dr. johnson said: 'i am a great friend to public amusements, for they keep people from vice.' is there no need of them on the day when there is more drinking, gambling, and other gross vice than on any other? need i say what day keeps our policemen and criminal courts most busy, or crowds our hospitals with sufferers from riotous brawls? has not the experience of two hundred and fifty years justified those english statesmen who showed themselves much wiser than their puritan contemporaries in recommending archery, dancing, and other diversions on sunday, because forbidding them 'sets up filthy tippling and drunkenness?' to keep a man who does not care to go to church from getting any amusement, is to push him towards the saloon. and not only the laws against liquor selling, but others even more necessary for our safety, would be much better enforced if we did not encourage lawlessness by keeping up statutes which our best men and women violate without scruple and with impunity, or which actually prevent good people from taking such recreation as they know they ought to have. outgrown ordinances should not be suffered to drag just and necessary laws down into contempt. "nobody wants to revive those old laws of massachusetts bay which forbade people to wear lace, or buy foreign fruit, or charge more than a fixed price for a day's work. no more quakers will ever swing from a boston gallows merely for preaching. but our laws against sunday amusements are in the same spirit as that which hung mary dyer. in old times, government kept continually telling people what to do, and took especial pains to make them go to church on sunday. if they stayed away, they were fined; if they did not become members, they were not allowed to vote; if they got up rival services, they were hung; if they took any amusement on sunday, they were whipped. all four classes of laws for the same unjust end have passed away, except that against sunday recreation. this still survives in a modified form. but even in this shape it is utterly irreconcilable with the fundamental principles of our government. all american legislation, from the declaration of independence, rests on the great truth that our government is founded in order to secure us in our unalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. our state is a limited partnership for mutual protection. we carry it on in order to make our freedom more complete; and we tolerate no restrictions on ourselves except such as are necessary conditions of the greatest possible liberty. these principles are already fully acknowledged on six days of the week, but only partly on the seventh. still, there is a growing recognition of the likeness between laws against sunday amusements and such prohibitions of eating meat in lent as once caused people to be burned alive." a weekly day of rest is a blessing; but david swing is right in saying that "absolute rest, perfectly satisfactory to horse and dog, is not adequate to the high nature of man." complete torpor of mind and body is more characteristic of a hindoo fakir than of a christian saint. should those who wish to rest as much as possible on sunday sleep in church? there is nothing irreligious in fresh air. the tendency of outdoor exercise to purify and elevate our thoughts is so strong that kingsley actually defended playing cricket on sunday as "a carrying out of the divineness of the sabbath." if there is no hostility between religion and amusement on six days of the week, there cannot be much on the seventh. no protestants are more religious than the swedes and norwegians. everybody goes to church; there is theological teaching in the public-schools; and advocacy of liberal religious views was punished in with imprisonment. no scandinavian objects, so far as i know, to indoor games, croquet, dancing, or going to the theatre on sunday; and these amusements are acknowledged to be perfectly proper throughout continental europe. no one who allows himself any exercise or recreation on sunday has a right to say that his neighbours do not need more than he does. lyman beecher could not preach his best on any day when he did not work hard at sawing wood or shovelling sand in his cellar. there would be less dyspepsia on monday if there were more exercise on sunday. herbert spencer tells us that "happiness is the most powerful of tonics. by accelerating the circulation of the blood, it facilitates the performance of every function; and so tends alike to increase health where it exists, and to restore it when it has been lost. hence the essential superiority of play to gymnastics." a bible dancing class is said to have been organised, in deference to such facts, in new jersey by an episcopalian pastor, who perhaps wishes to accomplish jeremiah's prediction of the messianic kingdom, "then shall the virgin rejoice in the dance." among other liberal clergymen is brooke herford, who says: "we want sunday to be the happiest day in all the week. keep it free from labour, but free for all quiet, innocent recreations." rev. charles voysey wrote me in , lamenting the immorality arising "from the curse of having nothing to do or nowhere to go on sunday afternoons and evenings." "young persons especially," he said, "would be better, and morally more safe, for greater opportunities of innocent pleasure and games at the hours of enforced idleness on the sunday." the spirit of the legislators is changing like that of the clergy. the first laws against sunday amusement were passed by men who thought all pleasure vicious on every day of the week. our present statutes are kept in force by people who like amusement, and get all they want of it; but who make it almost impossible for their poor neighbours, in order to conciliate ecclesiastical prejudice. "they bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne and lay them on men's shoulders"; but they themselves do not feel the weight. whatever may be the advantage of keeping sunday, it cannot be kept religiously when it is kept compulsorily. rest from unnecessary labour and business on one day every week may be for the public welfare; but this rest is not made more secure by indiscriminate prohibitions of amusement. the idlest man is the most easily tempted to disturb his neighbours. no man's property is more safe or his personal liberty more secure because his neighbours are liable to be fined for playing golf. laws against sunday recreation do not protect but violate individual liberty. a free government has no business to interfere with the right of the citizens to take healthy exercise and innocent amusement whenever they choose. these considerations would justify a protest, not only against the sunday laws made by congress for the district of columbia, but also against the statutes of every state in the union, except arizona, california, idaho, louisiana, and wyoming. "whoever is present at any sport, game, play, or public diversion, except a concert of sacred music, or an entertainment given by a religious or charitable society, the proceeds of which, if any, are to be devoted exclusively to a religious or charitable purpose," on what is called "the lord's day" in massachusetts is liable to a fine of five dollars; the penalty for taking part may be fifty dollars; and the proprietor or manager may be fined as much as five hundred dollars. new jersey still keeps her old law against "singing, fiddling, or other music for the sake of merriment"; and express prohibitions of "any sport" are still maintained by connecticut, maine, and rhode island. prominent among other states which forbid amusements acknowledged innocent on six days of the week, are new hampshire, new york, pennsylvania, and vermont. many of our states show particular hostility to card-playing, dancing, and theatre-going. the fact that fishing was practised by some of the apostles on sunday has not saved this quiet recreation from being prohibited by more than twenty commonwealths. if every sunday law were a dead letter, it ought to be repealed, because it tends to bring needed laws into contempt; but among recent results of sunday legislation are the following. in some children were fined for playing ball in rhode island; so, about this time, in massachusetts, were a boy for skating, a young man for playing lawn-tennis, and a merchant for fishing with his little son. in two men were fined $ each for playing golf on a lonely hill, in the commonwealth just mentioned; five boys under fifteen arrested for playing marbles in new york city; and every member of a baseball club in pennsylvania fined. in a man and a boy of fifteen were fined $ each for fishing in new york; and the attempt of some clergymen, aided by police, to break up a show in missouri, caused a tumult in which men's heads were broken by clubs, while women and children were trampled underfoot. on the first sunday that the london galleries and museums were thrown open to their owners, may , , two men were shot dead in attleboro, mass., by a policeman who had been ordered to break up a clambake. in that same year and state, a manager was fined $ for allowing _yankee doodle_ to be performed in the boston theatre; three men were arrested for bowling; half a dozen jews who had been playing cards in a private house were fined $ or $ each, and those who could not pay were sent to jail. among the sabbath-breakers arrested in were a number of newsboys at the national capital, nine golfers in massachusetts, a young man for holding one end of a rope over which some little girls were skipping in new york city, and also the manager of a show in new jersey, who spent ten days in jail. fines were levied in for playing golf in connecticut, and twenty-five fishermen were arrested on one sunday in buffalo, n. y. such are the risks which still accompany innocent and healthy amusements in the eastern states. many such arrests are made in order to collect fees, or gratify malice; and neither motive ought to be encouraged by the friends of religion. some magistrates in long island, n. y., are believed, while still holding that baseball breaks the sabbath, to have discovered that golf does not. it is further said that on july , , some baseball men who had been playing a sunday game to a large crowd saved themselves from arrest by using their bats and balls to imitate golfing as soon as a policeman appeared in their grounds. none of the sunday laws is so mischievous as the decree of mrs. grundy against all forms of recreation not practised by the wealthy and fashionable. these people have so much time on six days of the week for active outdoor sport and indoor public entertainments, that they make little attempt to indulge in such recreations on sunday. people who have only this one chance of playing ball, or dancing, or going to stereopticon lectures, concerts, and operas, suffer in health by having these recreations made unpopular as well as illegal. the climate of new england and new york, as well as of great britain and canada, has unfortunately been so arranged that there are a great many cold and rainy sundays, when much time cannot be spent pleasantly in walking or riding. this matters little to people who get all the amusement they want in their parlours. but what becomes of people who have no parlours? for instance, of servant-girls who have no place where they can sing or even laugh? shop-girls and factory-girls find their little rooms, sunday after sunday, too much like prisons. young men are perhaps even more unfortunate; for they go to the saloon, though this is often closed without any better place of amusement being opened. why should every week in a democratic country begin with an aristocratic sunday, a day whose pleasures are mainly for the rich? libraries and museums are blessed places of refuge; but "what are they among so many?" the residents of the district of columbia are particularly unfortunate, as the smithsonian museum, national library, and other buildings, which are open during six days, are kept shut on sunday. congress seems to be of the opinion that working people need no knowledge of natural history, except what they can get from sermons about jonah's whale and noah's ark. washington is not the only city whose rich men ought to remember the warning of heber newton: "everything that tends to foster among our working people the notion of class privilege is making against the truest morality in our midst. as they look upon the case, it is the wealthy people, whose homes are private libraries and galleries of art, who protest against the opening of our libraries and museums to those who can afford no libraries and buy no pictures. sabbatarianism is building very dangerous fires to-day." we should all be glad to have more intellectual culture given on sunday. one way of giving it would be for the churches to open public reading-rooms in the afternoon. this would be decidedly for their own interest; and so would be delivery of evening lectures on history, biography, and literature. the sunday-schools in england found it necessary, even as late as , to give much time to teaching reading and writing as well as the higher branches. sunday-school rooms in america, which now are left useless after sunday noon, might be employed in teaching english to german, italian, and scandinavian immigrants during the afternoon and evening. classes might also be formed in vocal music, light gymnastics, american and english history and literature, physiology, sociology, and political economy. such changes would make our churches all the more worthy of the founder, who "went about doing good." the observance of sunday as a day of rest from labour and business will be all the more popular as it is made precious to irreligious people. they are numerous enough to have a right to ask that the public school-houses be opened for free classes in french, german, drawing, and modelling; botany, chemistry, and bird-lore; cooking, sewing, and wood-work. if teachers of these branches were employed on sunday by our cities, less money would be needed for police. our industrial interests would certainly gain by having this system carried out as far, for instance, as is done by lyons and milan, which have special sunday-schools for teaching weaving. goldsmiths are instructed by similar schools in austria, and blacksmiths in saxony. the full advantage of sunday classes of the various kinds here suggested might not perhaps be seen until a taste for them could be made general, but doing this would go far to diminish the taste for saloons. the first step, however, which ought to be taken by our legislatures is the repeal of all laws hindering the sale of tickets on sunday to exhibitions of pictures or curiosities, concerts, stereopticon lectures, or other instructive entertainments which are acknowledged inoffensive during the rest of the week. how far dramatic performances and other very attractive forms of public amusement should be permitted to take place on sunday is a question which ought to be settled by municipal authorities, with due reference to each special case. the people whose feelings ought to be considered are not those who wish to stay away from such places. they can easily do that without help from the police. the people who ought to be heard, first and last, are those who wish to get innocent amusement on their one day of leisure; and the only thing which the police need do is to see that they do get it without being defrauded or tempted into vice. only the actual existence of such temptation can justify interference with dancing or card-playing in a private house. the sunday reforms most needed, however, are those which will promote out-door exercise and mental culture. list of dates . declaration of american independence, july th. . emancipation in massachusetts and pennsylvania. . peace between il s. a. and great britain, september d. . great prosperity of british factories about this time. . slavery prohibited north of ohio river; slave-trade opposed in england; bentham's principles of morals and legislation published. . constitution of u. s. a. ratified by a sufficient number of states, june st. . bastille taken, july th. . paine's rights of man, part l, published, march th; louis xvi. accepts the new constitution, september th. . france a republic, september st. . slavery abolished in french colonies, february th. . insurrection in paris crushed by bonaparte, october th; free public schools founded throughout france. . bonaparte commander of army of italy, march th. . french directory makes itself absolute, september th; venice ceded by france to austria. . irish rebellion, may d. . usurpation by bonaparte, november th. . election of jefferson; schelling's transcendental idealism published. . inauguration of jefferson, march th. . birth of victor hugo, february th; lamarck's recherches published. . hayti declares herself independent, january d; death of toussaint in prison, april th; birth of emerson, may th; emmet's insurrection in ireland, july d. . the code napoleon announced, january; napoleon pro-liberty in the nineteenth century claimed emperor, may th; crowned, december d; schiller's william tell published. . battle of austerlitz, december d. . death of schiller, may th; birth of j. s. mill, may th; battle of jena, october th; berlin decree of napoleon against commerce with great britain, november st. . slave-trade prohibited by great britain, march th; peace of tilsit, july th, raises napoleon to height of power; embargo laid by u. s. a., december d; oken announces the vertebral analogy of the skull; hegel's phaenomenologie des geistes published. . rebellion of spaniards against french rule; witchcraft mob in england; goethe's faust, part l, published. . birth of darwin, february th; revolt of tyrolese under hofer, april th; states of the church annexed to france, may th; death of paine, june th; pope imprisoned, july th; divorce of josephine, december th; lamarck's philosophie zoôlogique published. . hofer shot, february th; marriage of napoleon with austrian archduchess, april st; post-offices required to open every sunday in u. s. a., april th; revolt against spanish rule of buenos ayres, may th, and of chili, september th. . nottingham riots against machinery, november. . birth of dickens, february th; war against great britain declared by u. s. a., june th; wellington enters madrid, august th; moscow burned, september th; byron's childe harold, coleridge's friend, and hegel's logik published. . wellington invades france, october th; battle of leipsic, october th, th, and th; francia ruler of paraguay; unitarian disabilities removed in england; shelley's queen mab and owen's new view of society published. . napoleon is deposed by senate, april st, and abdicates, april th; liberal constitution introduced by louis xviii., may; washington taken and burned by british, august th; peace of ghent between u. s. a. and great britain, december th; congress of vienna opens november d; graves of voltaire and rousseau violated. . battle of new orleans, january th; waterloo, june th; controversy of unitarians and trinitarians in u. s. a.; last heretic burned in mexico; lamarck publishes the first volume of his histoire naturelle. . shelley's children taken from him on account of his opinions, march th; demonstration at the wartburg, october th; unusual poverty in england; her authors and orators made liable to imprisonment without a trial; ben-tham demands suffrage for men and women not illiterate; shelley's revolt of islam published. . chili liberated by battle of maipu, won by san martin, april th; religious tests abolished in connecticut; hannah m. crocker's rights of women published. . assassination of kotzebue, march d; carlsbad conference, august st; "peterloo" massacre at manchester, august th; shelley's prometheus unbound published. . revolution in spain, january st; and at naples, july d; assassination of french princes, february th, causes reaction against liberalism; birth of herbert spencer, april th; owen's plan of socialism proposed, may st; conference of troppau, december th; missouri compromise; sydney smith asks, "who reads an american book?"; irving's rip van winkle and legend of sleepy hollow published. . brazil begins a revolt, january st, as do greece and sardinia in april, and peru in july; death of napoleon, may th; venezuela and colombra made free by battle of carabolo, won june th, by bolivar; austria supreme in italy; lundy begins his genius of universal emancipation. . death of shelley, july th; independence of brazil proclaimed, september th; massacre at scio; fourrier's book on association published. . spanish patriots crushed by french army, april; monroe doctrine announced, december st; british anti-slavery society formed; victor hugo's odes and ballads published. . mexico a republic, january st; bolivar, dictator of feru, february th, defeats spaniards at ayachuco, december th; death of byron, april th; accession of charles x., september th; repeal of statutes forbidding english labourers to combine or emigrate; westminster review founded. . much opposition to slavery in kentucky, maryland, and north carolina; many socialist communities founded in u. s. a.; elective courses of study at harvard college, and also at the university of virginia, where attendance at religious exercises is made voluntary; coleridge's aids to reflection published. . citizens of new york petition for repeal of fugitive slave law, and for emancipation in the district of columbia. . battle of navarino, october th; taylor sent to prison for blasphemy, october th. . test act repealed; frances wright lectures against clergy. . jackson inaugurated march th; catholic emancipation act signed, april th; miss wright opens a hall of science in new york city on sunday, april th; james mill's analysis and fourrier's industrial new world published. . independence of greece acknowledged by turkey, april th; accession of william iv., july th; revolution at paris begins july th; king's troops driven out, july th; he is succeeded by louis philippe, august th; revolts in brussels, warsaw, and dresden; independence of belgium acknowledged, december th; hetherington sent to prison for six months for publishing the poor man's guardian; victor hugo's hernani acted; tennyson's poems and lyell's principles of geology published. . first number of the liberator\ january st, and of the investigator, april d; carlile sent to prison for his writings, january th; cobbett tried and acquitted, july st; massacre of fifty-five white men, women, and children by slaves in virginia, sunday, august st; warsaw surrenders to russians, september th; reform bill defeated by bishops, october th; jamaica insurrection, december d; free trade convention in philadelphia; victor hugo's notre dame de paris published. . new england anti-slavery society founded in boston, january st (becomes mass. a. s. in ); death of goethe, march d; the insurrection at paris described in les misérables, june th and th; reform bill passed and signed, june th; jackson re-elected, november th; woman suffrage lecture in london, december d; jackson's proclamation against attempt of south carolina to secede, december th; bloody resistance to tithes in ireland; elliott's corn law rhymes published. . gradual reduction of tariff voted by congress, march st; death of bentham, june th; act of parliament for emancipation in west indies passed august th; american anti-slavery society founded at philadelphia, december; pro-slavery mobs there and in new york city; municipal suffrage extended in scotland; unsectarian public schools in ireland; first free town library in u. s. a. founded at peterboro, n. h., and opened sundays thenceforth; emerson's first lecture; carlyle's sartor resartus published. . emancipation in west indies takes place, august ist; new poor law in england, august th; insurrection headed by mazzini in italy. . death of cobbett, june th; anti-slavery periodicals taken from post-office at charleston, s. c, and burned by mob, july; convent at charlestown, mass., burned by a mob, august; garrison mobbed in boston, and other abolitionists in new york and vermont, october st; extension of municipal suffrage in england; tocqueville's democracy in america and strauss's life of jesus published. . transcendental club founded in boston, september; parker begins to preach; tithes commuted in england; taxes on newspapers reduced; dissenters permitted to marry without disobedience to conscience; emerson's nature and dickens' pickwick papers published. . discussion of slavery in house of representatives suppressed, january; miss grimké's anti-slavery lectures, june; emerson's address on the american scholar, august st; anti-slavery convention of n. e. methodists, october th; carlyle's french revolution published. . emerson's divinity school address, july th; kneeland imprisoned sixty days, that same summer, for blasphemy; pennsylvania hall burned by a pro-slavery mob; irish tithe system reformed; daguerreotypes invented; atlantic crossed by steam; railroad from london to birmingham; channing's self-culture published. . anti-corn-law league organised, march th; unsectarian common schools in england; great chartist petition; pope forbids attendance at the scientific congress at pisa. . penny postage, january th; nomination of candidate for president, april ist, by liberty party: quarrels in may among abolitionists; world's anti-slavery convention at london, in june, refuses seats to female delegates; local self-government in irish cities; protest of american catholics against sectarianism of public schools; the dial begins; carlyle's heroes and hero worship published. , hetherington imprisoned in england for publishing letters to the clergy, and the editor of the oracle of reason for attacking the bible; emerson's first volume of essays published. . garrison calls on free states to secede, may; death of channing, october d; brook farm started, as are many communties about this time; spencer's theory of the limits of government published, . morse proves value of telegraph by announcing nomination of frelinghuysen for vice-president by whigs, may st; disunion banner publicly accepted by garrison, june st; annexation of texas and reduction of tariff decided by election on november th; rule against discussing slavery repealed by house of representatives; lowell's poems published. . parker begins to preach regularly in boston, february th; potato rot in ireland, august; vestiges of creation published. . mexico invaded by u. s. troops, march; free trade established in england, june th, and bill to reduce american tariff signed, june th; first volume of grote's greece and first number of lowell's biglow papers published. . mexicans defeated at buena vista by general taylor, february d and d; death of o'connell, may th. . revolution in paris, february d; king abdicates, february th; insurrections in munich, vienna, berlin, venice, and milan in march, afterwards in other cities; "spirit rappings" at rochester, n.y., begin march st; chartist demonstration at london, april th; emancipation decreed by french republic, april th; socialist insurrection at paris, june d, th, th, and th; "woman's rights" convention at seneca falls, n. y., july th; revolt in ireland, july th; buffalo convention of free soilers, august th; kossuth dictator of hungary, september th; state constitution and town ordinances made in october by citizens of california without federal sanction; pro-slavery defeat at election of taylor, november th; flight of pope from rome, november th; louis napoleon president of france, december th; lowell's vision of sir launfal, fable for critics, and biglow papers published, . defeat of king of sardinia by austrians at novara, march d, prevents liberation of italy; rome captured by french, july d; hungarian army surrendered to russians by gorgei, august th; venice taken by austrians, august th; emancipation convention in kentucky. . death of wordsworth, april th, and of president taylor, july th; fugitive slave bill signed, september th; first national "woman's rights" convention at worcester, mass., october d and th; bradlaugh's first lecture; hawthorne's scarlet letter, spencer's social statics, and tennyson's in memoriam published. . london great exhibition opens may ist; a fugitive slave rescued at boston, sunday, february th, another at syracuse, n. y., october ist; usurpation of louis napoleon, december d, . . uncle tom's cabin published, march th; death of frances wright, and accession of napoleon iii., december d; herbert spencer announces the principle of differentiation. . repeal of missouri compromise proposed by douglas, january d; return of burns, a fugitive slave, from boston, june d; u. s. constitution publicly burned by garrison, july th; kansas election carried by border ruffians, november th; thoreau's walden published. . spencer's pyschology and walt whitman's leaves of grass published, . sumner assaulted, may d.. . disunion convention, worcester, mass., january th; death of béranger, july th, and of comte, september th; tariff reduced twenty per cent, in u. s. a.; buckle's history of civilisation, vol. i., published. . essays by darwin and wallace read in public, july ist; jews admitted to parliament by act passed july d; death of robert owen, november th; lincoln and douglas campaign in illinois. . austrians defeated at magenta, june th, and solferino. june th; lombardy annexed to sardinia by treaty of villafranca, july nth; john brown takes possession of harper's ferry, sunday, october th, and is tried november d; darwin's origin of species published, november th; john brown hung, december d. . split of democratic party, april th; death of theodore parker, may th; garibaldi enters naples, september th; election of lincoln, november th; secession of south carolina, december th; annexation of two sicilies to sardinia, december th; mill on liberty published. . confederate states of america organised, february th; protective tariff passed, march d; russian serfs emancipated, march d; lincoln inaugurated, march th; victor emmanuel king of italy, march th; fort sumter bombarded, april th, surrendered, april th; lincoln's proclamation, monday, april th, calls all the north to arms; death of cavour, june th; union defeat at bull run, sunday, july st. . paper money made legal tender in u. s. a., february th; return of fugitives from slavery by army or navy forbidden, march th; negro soldiers, april; death of thoreau, may th, and of buckle, may th; disastrous campaign of mcclellan in virginia ends by his retreat, july th; union victory at antietam, september th; emancipation announced as a possible war measure by lincoln, september d; union defeat at fredericksburg, december th; victor hugo's les misérables published, also spencer's first principles containing his full theory of integration and differentiation. . lincoln proclaims emancipation, january st; signs bills suspending habeas corpus act and establishing conscription, march d; union defeat at chancellorsville, may d; vallandigham sentenced, may th; battle of gettysburg, july st, d, and d, ending in a union victory; vicksburg surrendered to general grant, july th; mississippi opened by surrender of port hudson, july th; union victories at lookout mountain, november th, and chattanooga, november th; fenian convention at chicago, november th; darwinism much opposed by european clergy about this time. . general grant takes command of all the union armies, march th; undecisive battles in the wilderness and at spottsylvania, may th- th; fugitive slave act repealed, june d; nevada admitted, october st; lincoln re-elected, november th; sherman marches from atlanta, november th, and enters savannah, december d. . death of cobden, april d; richmond entered by coloured cavalry, april d; lee surrenders, april th; lincoln shot, good friday, april th, dies april th; slavery abolished by thirteenth amendment, december th; lecky's rationalism published. . prussian victory over austria at kônîggratz, july d; venice part of kingdom of italy, november th. . first convention of the free religious association, may th; suffrage extended in england, august th; home rule in hungary. . fourteenth amendment in force, july th; cuban declaration of independence, october th. . irish church disestablished, july th; witnesses allowed to affirm in great britain. . death of dickens, june th; napoleon iii. defeated at sedan, september st; france a republic, september th; rome part of the kingdom of italy, october th; inger-soll begins to lecture; home rule agitation in ireland, . paris surrendered to prussians, january th; communists supreme there, march th, suppressed, may th; emancipation in brazil; darwin's descent of man published. . death of mazzini, march th; secret ballot in england; abbot's "demands of liberalism" published in the index (which began january , ). . spain a republic, february th; death of j. s. mill, may th; american liberal league, september st. . military usurpation at madrid, january d; death of sumner, march th; citizens of district of columbia disfranchised, june th; alphonso xii. king of spain, december th; mrs. besant begins to lecture; victor hugo's ninety-three published. . sunday society organised at london. . centennial exhibition at philadelphia opens, may th, and conventiom of liberal league, july st; disputed election for president, november th; sunday convention in boston, november th; vivisection restricted in england; cuban rebellion suppressed, liberty in the nineteenth century. . museum of fine arts in boston open in and after march on sundays. . anti-clerical resolution passed by woman suffrage convention, rochester, n. y., july; split of liberal league at syracuse, n. y., sunday, october th; professor winchell obliged to leave nashville, tenn., for evolutionism. . specie payment resumed in u. s. a., january st; death of garrison, may th; henry george's progress and poverty published. . bradlaugh refused his seat in parliament, may st; many patriots banished to siberia. . czar alexander ii. assassinated, march th, anti-jewish mobs on and after april th; bradlaugh excluded by force, august st. . death of longfellow, march th, of darwin, april th, of emerson, april th, and of garibaldi, june d. . foote and ramsay, english journalists, sentenced respectively to twelve and nine months in prison for blasphemy. . death of wendell phillips; february d; cleveland elected president, november th; professor woodrow dismissed from presbyterian theological seminary at columbia, s. c, for teaching evolution, december th. . death of victor hugo, may th, and of general grant, july d. . bradlaugh takes his seat, january th; railroad strike in missouri suppressed by federal troops, march; bloody conflict of chicago anarchists with police, may th; statue of liberty unveiled in new york harbour, october th. . chicago anarchists hung, november th. . u. s. tariff reduced by mills bill, july st; cleveland defeated, november th; imprisonment in sweden for blasphemy; bellamy's looking backward published. . brazil a republic, november th; death of browning, december th. . australian ballot tried in rhode island, april d; u. s. tariff raised by mckinley bill, passed by the billion dollars congress, and signed october st. . death of bradlaugh, january th, and of lowell, august th; jews expelled from moscow in april, and much persecuted this year and in ; new york museum of art opened on sunday, may st, to , visitors. . death of walt whitman, march th, of whittier, september th, and of tennyson, october th; bill excluding chinese from u. s. a. signed, may th; congress votes for closing chicago exposition on sundays, july th; cleveland re-elected, november th; new york museum of natural history open sundays; revised edition of spencer's social statics published. . chicago exposition formally opened may ist, first open sunday, may th; parliament of religions begins monday, september nth, a.m. . death of kossuth, march th, of holmes, october th, of lucy stone, october th, and of tyndall, december th; debs, leader of a riot in chicago, enjoined by u. s. judges, july d, and put down by federal troops; reduction of u. s. tariff, august d; home rule approved by house of commons, september ist, refused by house of lords, september th; universal suffrage and extension of local self-government in england; a professor in university of texas dismissed for evolutionism. . death of frederick douglass, february th, and of huxley, june th; rebellion in cuba; men arrested in new york city for selling ice, umbrellas, etc., on sunday; eight men who had worked on that day, after keeping saturday as the sabbath, forced to labour in the chain-gang in tennessee. . british museum, national gallery, and other institutions opened to the public on sunday, may th, and afterwards; two sabbath-breakers shot dead that same day by a policeman in massachusetts; death of william morris, october d; democratic candidates defeated on a free-silver platform, november d. . dingley bill to increase tariff, signed july th; death of henry george, october th. . war declared by u. s. a. against spain, april st; death of gladstone, ascension day, may th; independence of cuba secured by treaty, august th. . death of ingersoll, july st. the athenian constitution by aristotle translated by sir frederic g. kenyon part ...[they were tried] by a court empanelled from among the noble families, and sworn upon the sacrifices. the part of accuser was taken by myron. they were found guilty of the sacrilege, and their bodies were cast out of their graves and their race banished for evermore. in view of this expiation, epimenides the cretan performed a purification of the city. part after this event there was contention for a long time between the upper classes and the populace. not only was the constitution at this time oligarchical in every respect, but the poorer classes, men, women, and children, were the serfs of the rich. they were known as pelatae and also as hectemori, because they cultivated the lands of the rich at the rent thus indicated. the whole country was in the hands of a few persons, and if the tenants failed to pay their rent they were liable to be haled into slavery, and their children with them. all loans secured upon the debtor's person, a custom which prevailed until the time of solon, who was the first to appear as the champion of the people. but the hardest and bitterest part of the constitution in the eyes of the masses was their state of serfdom. not but what they were also discontented with every other feature of their lot; for, to speak generally, they had no part nor share in anything. part now the ancient constitution, as it existed before the time of draco, was organized as follows. the magistrates were elected according to qualifications of birth and wealth. at first they governed for life, but subsequently for terms of ten years. the first magistrates, both in date and in importance, were the king, the polemarch, and the archon. the earliest of these offices was that of the king, which existed from ancestral antiquity. to this was added, secondly, the office of polemarch, on account of some of the kings proving feeble in war; for it was on this account that ion was invited to accept the post on an occasion of pressing need. the last of the three offices was that of the archon, which most authorities state to have come into existence in the time of medon. others assign it to the time of acastus, and adduce as proof the fact that the nine archons swear to execute their oaths 'as in the days of acastus,' which seems to suggest that it was in his time that the descendants of codrus retired from the kingship in return for the prerogatives conferred upon the archon. whichever way it may be, the difference in date is small; but that it was the last of these magistracies to be created is shown by the fact that the archon has no part in the ancestral sacrifices, as the king and the polemarch have, but exclusively in those of later origin. so it is only at a comparatively late date that the office of archon has become of great importance, through the dignity conferred by these later additions. the thesmothetae were many years afterwards, when these offices had already become annual, with the object that they might publicly record all legal decisions, and act as guardians of them with a view to determining the issues between litigants. accordingly their office, alone of those which have been mentioned, was never of more than annual duration. such, then, is the relative chronological precedence of these offices. at that time the nine archons did not all live together. the king occupied the building now known as the boculium, near the prytaneum, as may be seen from the fact that even to the present day the marriage of the king's wife to dionysus takes place there. the archon lived in the prytaneum, the polemarch in the epilyceum. the latter building was formerly called the polemarcheum, but after epilycus, during his term of office as polemarch, had rebuilt it and fitted it up, it was called the epilyceum. the thesmothetae occupied the thesmotheteum. in the time of solon, however, they all came together into the thesmotheteum. they had power to decide cases finally on their own authority, not, as now, merely to hold a preliminary hearing. such then was the arrangement of the magistracies. the council of areopagus had as its constitutionally assigned duty the protection of the laws; but in point of fact it administered the greater and most important part of the government of the state, and inflicted personal punishments and fines summarily upon all who misbehaved themselves. this was the natural consequence of the facts that the archons were elected under qualifications of birth and wealth, and that the areopagus was composed of those who had served as archons; for which latter reason the membership of the areopagus is the only office which has continued to be a life-magistracy to the present day. part such was, in outline, the first constitution, but not very long after the events above recorded, in the archonship of aristaichmus, draco enacted his ordinances. now his constitution had the following form. the franchise was given to all who could furnish themselves with a military equipment. the nine archons and the treasurers were elected by this body from persons possessing an unencumbered property of not less than ten minas, the less important officials from those who could furnish themselves with a military equipment, and the generals [strategi] and commanders of the cavalry [hipparchi] from those who could show an unencumbered property of not less than a hundred minas, and had children born in lawful wedlock over ten years of age. these officers were required to hold to bail the prytanes, the strategi, and the hipparchi of the preceding year until their accounts had been audited, taking four securities of the same class as that to which the strategi and the hipparchi belonged. there was also to be a council, consisting of four hundred and one members, elected by lot from among those who possessed the franchise. both for this and for the other magistracies the lot was cast among those who were over thirty years of age; and no one might hold office twice until every one else had had his turn, after which they were to cast the lot afresh. if any member of the council failed to attend when there was a sitting of the council or of the assembly, he paid a fine, to the amount of three drachmas if he was a pentacosiomedimnus, two if he was a knight, and one if he was a zeugites. the council of areopagus was guardian of the laws, and kept watch over the magistrates to see that they executed their offices in accordance with the laws. any person who felt himself wronged might lay an information before the council of areopagus, on declaring what law was broken by the wrong done to him. but, as has been said before, loans were secured upon the persons of the debtors, and the land was in the hands of a few. part since such, then, was the organization of the constitution, and the many were in slavery to the few, the people rose against the upper class. the strife was keen, and for a long time the two parties were ranged in hostile camps against one another, till at last, by common consent, they appointed solon to be mediator and archon, and committed the whole constitution to his hands. the immediate occasion of his appointment was his poem, which begins with the words: i behold, and within my heart deep sadness has claimed its place, as i mark the oldest home of the ancient ionian race slain by the sword. in this poem he fights and disputes on behalf of each party in turn against the other, and finally he advises them to come to terms and put an end to the quarrel existing between them. by birth and reputation solon was one of the foremost men of the day, but in wealth and position he was of the middle class, as is generally agreed, and is, indeed, established by his own evidence in these poems, where he exhorts the wealthy not to be grasping. but ye who have store of good, who are sated and overflow, restrain your swelling soul, and still it and keep it low: let the heart that is great within you be trained a lowlier way; ye shall not have all at your will, and we will not for ever obey. indeed, he constantly fastens the blame of the conflict on the rich; and accordingly at the beginning of the poem he says that he fears 'the love of wealth and an overweening mind', evidently meaning that it was through these that the quarrel arose. part as soon as he was at the head of affairs, solon liberated the people once and for all, by prohibiting all loans on the security of the debtor's person: and in addition he made laws by which he cancelled all debts, public and private. this measure is commonly called the seisachtheia [= removal of burdens], since thereby the people had their loads removed from them. in connexion with it some persons try to traduce the character of solon. it so happened that, when he was about to enact the seisachtheia, he communicated his intention to some members of the upper class, whereupon, as the partisans of the popular party say, his friends stole a march on him; while those who wish to attack his character maintain that he too had a share in the fraud himself. for these persons borrowed money and bought up a large amount of land, and so when, a short time afterwards, all debts were cancelled, they became wealthy; and this, they say, was the origin of the families which were afterwards looked on as having been wealthy from primeval times. however, the story of the popular party is by far the most probable. a man who was so moderate and public-spirited in all his other actions, that when it was within his power to put his fellow-citizens beneath his feet and establish himself as tyrant, he preferred instead to incur the hostility of both parties by placing his honour and the general welfare above his personal aggrandisement, is not likely to have consented to defile his hands by such a petty and palpable fraud. that he had this absolute power is, in the first place, indicated by the desperate condition the country; moreover, he mentions it himself repeatedly in his poems, and it is universally admitted. we are therefore bound to consider this accusation to be false. part next solon drew up a constitution and enacted new laws; and the ordinances of draco ceased to be used, with the exception of those relating to murder. the laws were inscribed on the wooden stands, and set up in the king's porch, and all swore to obey them; and the nine archons made oath upon the stone, declaring that they would dedicate a golden statue if they should transgress any of them. this is the origin of the oath to that effect which they take to the present day. solon ratified his laws for a hundred years; and the following was the fashion in which he organized the constitution. he divided the population according to property into four classes, just as it had been divided before, namely, pentacosiomedimni, knights, zeugitae, and thetes. the various magistracies, namely, the nine archons, the treasurers, the commissioners for public contracts (poletae), the eleven, and clerks (colacretae), he assigned to the pentacosiomedimni, the knights, and the zeugitae, giving offices to each class in proportion to the value of their rateable property. to who ranked among the thetes he gave nothing but a place in the assembly and in the juries. a man had to rank as a pentacosiomedimnus if he made, from his own land, five hundred measures, whether liquid or solid. those ranked as knights who made three hundred measures, or, as some say, those who were able to maintain a horse. in support of the latter definition they adduce the name of the class, which may be supposed to be derived from this fact, and also some votive offerings of early times; for in the acropolis there is a votive offering, a statue of diphilus, bearing this inscription: the son of diphilus, athenion hight, raised from the thetes and become a knight, did to the gods this sculptured charger bring, for his promotion a thank-offering. and a horse stands in evidence beside the man, implying that this was what was meant by belonging to the rank of knight. at the same time it seems reasonable to suppose that this class, like the pentacosiomedimni, was defined by the possession of an income of a certain number of measures. those ranked as zeugitae who made two hundred measures, liquid or solid; and the rest ranked as thetes, and were not eligible for any office. hence it is that even at the present day, when a candidate for any office is asked to what class he belongs, no one would think of saying that he belonged to the thetes. part the elections to the various offices solon enacted should be by lot, out of candidates selected by each of the tribes. each tribe selected ten candidates for the nine archonships, and among these the lot was cast. hence it is still the custom for each tribe to choose ten candidates by lot, and then the lot is again cast among these. a proof that solon regulated the elections to office according to the property classes may be found in the law still in force with regard to the treasurers, which enacts that they shall be chosen from the pentacosiomedimni. such was solon's legislation with respect to the nine archons; whereas in early times the council of areopagus summoned suitable persons according to its own judgement and appointed them for the year to the several offices. there were four tribes, as before, and four tribe-kings. each tribe was divided into three trittyes [=thirds], with twelve naucraries in each; and the naucraries had officers of their own, called naucrari, whose duty it was to superintend the current receipts and expenditure. hence, among the laws of solon now obsolete, it is repeatedly written that the naucrari are to receive and to spend out of the naucraric fund. solon also appointed a council of four hundred, a hundred from each tribe; but he assigned to the council of the areopagus the duty of superintending the laws, acting as before as the guardian of the constitution in general. it kept watch over the affairs of the state in most of the more important matters, and corrected offenders, with full powers to inflict either fines or personal punishment. the money received in fines it brought up into the acropolis, without assigning the reason for the mulct. it also tried those who conspired for the overthrow of the state, solon having enacted a process of impeachment to deal with such offenders. further, since he saw the state often engaged in internal disputes, while many of the citizens from sheer indifference accepted whatever might turn up, he made a law with express reference to such persons, enacting that any one who, in a time [transcriber's note: of?] civil factions, did not take up arms with either party, should lose his rights as a citizen and cease to have any part in the state. part such, then, was his legislation concerning the magistracies. there are three points in the constitution of solon which appear to be its most democratic features: first and most important, the prohibition of loans on the security of the debtor's person; secondly, the right of every person who so willed to claim redress on behalf of any one to whom wrong was being done; thirdly, the institution of the appeal to the jurycourts; and it is to this last, they say, that the masses have owed their strength most of all, since, when the democracy is master of the voting-power, it is master of the constitution. moreover, since the laws were not drawn up in simple and explicit terms (but like the one concerning inheritances and wards of state), disputes inevitably occurred, and the courts had to decide in every matter, whether public or private. some persons in fact believe that solon deliberately made the laws indefinite, in order that the final decision might be in the hands of the people. this, however, is not probable, and the reason no doubt was that it is impossible to attain ideal perfection when framing a law in general terms; for we must judge of his intentions, not from the actual results in the present day, but from the general tenor of the rest of his legislation. part these seem to be the democratic features of his laws; but in addition, before the period of his legislation, he carried through his abolition of debts, and after it his increase in the standards of weights and measures, and of the currency. during his administration the measures were made larger than those of pheidon, and the mina, which previously had a standard of seventy drachmas, was raised to the full hundred. the standard coin in earlier times was the two-drachma piece. he also made weights corresponding with the coinage, sixty-three minas going to the talent; and the odd three minas were distributed among the staters and the other values. part when he had completed his organization of the constitution in the manner that has been described, he found himself beset by people coming to him and harassing him concerning his laws, criticizing here and questioning there, till, as he wished neither to alter what he had decided on nor yet to be an object of ill will to every one by remaining in athens, he set off on a journey to egypt, with the combined objects of trade and travel, giving out that he should not return for ten years. he considered that there was no call for him to expound the laws personally, but that every one should obey them just as they were written. moreover, his position at this time was unpleasant. many members of the upper class had been estranged from him on account of his abolition of debts, and both parties were alienated through their disappointment at the condition of things which he had created. the mass of the people had expected him to make a complete redistribution of all property, and the upper class hoped he would restore everything to its former position, or, at any rate, make but a small change. solon, however, had resisted both classes. he might have made himself a despot by attaching himself to whichever party he chose, but he preferred, though at the cost of incurring the enmity of both, to be the saviour of his country and the ideal lawgiver. part the truth of this view of solon's policy is established alike by common consent, and by the mention he has himself made of the matter in his poems. thus: i gave to the mass of the people such rank as befitted their need, i took not away their honour, and i granted naught to their greed; while those who were rich in power, who in wealth were glorious and great, i bethought me that naught should befall them unworthy their splendour and state; so i stood with my shield outstretched, and both were safe in its sight, and i would not that either should triumph, when the triumph was not with right. again he declares how the mass of the people ought to be treated: but thus will the people best the voice of their leaders obey, when neither too slack is the rein, nor violence holdeth the sway; for indulgence breedeth a child, the presumption that spurns control, when riches too great are poured upon men of unbalanced soul. and again elsewhere he speaks about the persons who wished to redistribute the land: so they came in search of plunder, and their cravings knew no bound, every one among them deeming endless wealth would here be found. and that i with glozing smoothness hid a cruel mind within. fondly then and vainly dreamt they; now they raise an angry din, and they glare askance in anger, and the light within their eyes burns with hostile flames upon me. yet therein no justice lies. all i promised, fully wrought i with the gods at hand to cheer, naught beyond in folly ventured. never to my soul was dear with a tyrant's force to govern, nor to see the good and base side by side in equal portion share the rich home of our race. once more he speaks of the abolition of debts and of those who before were in servitude, but were released owing to the seisachtheia: of all the aims for which i summoned forth the people, was there one i compassed not? thou, when slow time brings justice in its train, o mighty mother of the olympian gods, dark earth, thou best canst witness, from whose breast i swept the pillars broadcast planted there, and made thee free, who hadst been slave of yore. and many a man whom fraud or law had sold for from his god-built land, an outcast slave, i brought again to athens; yea, and some, exiles from home through debt's oppressive load, speaking no more the dear athenian tongue, but wandering far and wide, i brought again; and those that here in vilest slavery crouched 'neath a master's frown, i set them free. thus might and right were yoked in harmony, since by the force of law i won my ends and kept my promise. equal laws i gave to evil and to good, with even hand drawing straight justice for the lot of each. but had another held the goad as one in whose heart was guile and greediness, he had not kept the people back from strife. for had i granted, now what pleased the one, then what their foes devised in counterpoise, of many a man this state had been bereft. therefore i showed my might on every side, turning at bay like wolf among the hounds. and again he reviles both parties for their grumblings in the times that followed: nay, if one must lay blame where blame is due, wer't not for me, the people ne'er had set their eyes upon these blessings e'en in dreams: while greater men, the men of wealthier life, should praise me and should court me as their friend. for had any other man, he says, received this exalted post, he had not kept the people back, nor ceased til he had robbed the richness of the milk. but i stood forth a landmark in the midst, and barred the foes from battle. part such then, were solon's reasons for his departure from the country. after his retirement the city was still torn by divisions. for four years, indeed, they lived in peace; but in the fifth year after solon's government they were unable to elect an archon on account of their dissensions, and again four years later they elected no archon for the same reason. subsequently, after a similar period had elapsed, damasias was elected archon; and he governed for two years and two months, until he was forcibly expelled from his office. after this, it was agreed, as a compromise, to elect ten archons, five from the eupatridae, three from the agroeci, and two from the demiurgi, and they ruled for the year following damasias. it is clear from this that the archon was at the time the magistrate who possessed the greatest power, since it is always in connexion with this office that conflicts are seen to arise. but altogether they were in a continual state of internal disorder. some found the cause and justification of their discontent in the abolition of debts, because thereby they had been reduced to poverty; others were dissatisfied with the political constitution, because it had undergone a revolutionary change; while with others the motive was found in personal rivalries among themselves. the parties at this time were three in number. first there was the party of the shore, led by megacles the son of alcmeon, which was considered to aim at a moderate form of government; then there were the men of the plain, who desired an oligarchy and were led by lycurgus; and thirdly there were the men of the highlands, at the head of whom was pisistratus, who was looked on as an extreme democrat. this latter party was reinforced by those who had been deprived of the debts due to them, from motives of poverty, and by those who were not of pure descent, from motives of personal apprehension. a proof of this is seen in the fact that after the tyranny was overthrown a revision was made of the citizen-roll, on the ground that many persons were partaking in the franchise without having a right to it. the names given to the respective parties were derived from the districts in which they held their lands. part pisistratus had the reputation of being an extreme democrat, and he also had distinguished himself greatly in the war with megara. taking advantage of this, he wounded himself, and by representing that his injuries had been inflicted on him by his political rivals, he persuaded the people, through a motion proposed by aristion, to grant him a bodyguard. after he had got these 'club-bearers', as they were called, he made an attack with them on the people and seized the acropolis. this happened in the archonship of comeas, thirty-one years after the legislation of solon. it is related that, when pisistratus asked for his bodyguard, solon opposed the request, and declared that in so doing he proved himself wiser than half the people and braver than the rest,--wiser than those who did not see that pisistratus designed to make himself tyrant, and braver than those who saw it and kept silence. but when all his words availed nothing he carried forth his armour and set it up in front of his house, saying that he had helped his country so far as lay in his power (he was already a very old man), and that he called on all others to do the same. solon's exhortations, however, proved fruitless, and pisistratus assumed the sovereignty. his administration was more like a constitutional government than the rule of a tyrant; but before his power was firmly established, the adherents of megacles and lycurgus made a coalition and drove him out. this took place in the archonship of hegesias, five years after the first establishment of his rule. eleven years later megacles, being in difficulties in a party struggle, again opened negotiations with pisistratus, proposing that the latter should marry his daughter; and on these terms he brought him back to athens, by a very primitive and simple-minded device. he first spread abroad a rumour that athens was bringing back pisistratus, and then, having found a woman of great stature and beauty, named phye (according to herodotus, of the deme of paeania, but as others say a thracian flower-seller of the deme of collytus), he dressed her in a garb resembling that of the goddess and brought her into the city with pisistratus. the latter drove in on a chariot with the woman beside him, and the inhabitants of the city, struck with awe, received him with adoration. part in this manner did his first return take place. he did not, however, hold his power long, for about six years after his return he was again expelled. he refused to treat the daughter of megacles as his wife, and being afraid, in consequence, of a combination of the two opposing parties, he retired from the country. first he led a colony to a place called rhaicelus, in the region of the thermaic gulf; and thence he passed to the country in the neighbourhood of mt. pangaeus. here he acquired wealth and hired mercenaries; and not till ten years had elapsed did he return to eretria and make an attempt to recover the government by force. in this he had the assistance of many allies, notably the thebans and lygdamis of naxos, and also the knights who held the supreme power in the constitution of eretria. after his victory in the battle at pallene he captured athens, and when he had disarmed the people he at last had his tyranny securely established, and was able to take naxos and set up lygdamis as ruler there. he effected the disarmament of the people in the following manner. he ordered a parade in full armour in the theseum, and began to make a speech to the people. he spoke for a short time, until the people called out that they could not hear him, whereupon he bade them come up to the entrance of the acropolis, in order that his voice might be better heard. then, while he continued to speak to them at great length, men whom he had appointed for the purpose collected the arms and locked them up in the chambers of the theseum hard by, and came and made a signal to him that it was done. pisistratus accordingly, when he had finished the rest of what he had to say, told the people also what had happened to their arms; adding that they were not to be surprised or alarmed, but go home and attend to their private affairs, while he would himself for the future manage all the business of the state. part such was the origin and such the vicissitudes of the tyranny of pisistratus. his administration was temperate, as has been said before, and more like constitutional government than a tyranny. not only was he in every respect humane and mild and ready to forgive those who offended, but, in addition, he advanced money to the poorer people to help them in their labours, so that they might make their living by agriculture. in this he had two objects, first that they might not spend their time in the city but might be scattered over all the face of the country, and secondly that, being moderately well off and occupied with their own business, they might have neither the wish nor the time to attend to public affairs. at the same time his revenues were increased by the thorough cultivation of the country, since he imposed a tax of one tenth on all the produce. for the same reasons he instituted the local justices, and often made expeditions in person into the country to inspect it and to settle disputes between individuals, that they might not come into the city and neglect their farms. it was in one of these progresses that, as the story goes, pisistratus had his adventure with the man of hymettus, who was cultivating the spot afterwards known as 'tax-free farm'. he saw a man digging and working at a very stony piece of ground, and being surprised he sent his attendant to ask what he got out of this plot of land. 'aches and pains', said the man; 'and that's what pisistratus ought to have his tenth of'. the man spoke without knowing who his questioner was; but pisistratus was so pleased with his frank speech and his industry that he granted him exemption from all taxes. and so in matters in general he burdened the people as little as possible with his government, but always cultivated peace and kept them in all quietness. hence the tyranny of pisistratus was often spoken of proverbially as 'the age of gold'; for when his sons succeeded him the government became much harsher. but most important of all in this respect was his popular and kindly disposition. in all things he was accustomed to observe the laws, without giving himself any exceptional privileges. once he was summoned on a charge of homicide before the areopagus, and he appeared in person to make his defence; but the prosecutor was afraid to present himself and abandoned the case. for these reasons he held power long, and whenever he was expelled he regained his position easily. the majority alike of the upper class and of the people were in his favour; the former he won by his social intercourse with them, the latter by the assistance which he gave to their private purses, and his nature fitted him to win the hearts of both. moreover, the laws in reference to tyrants at that time in force at athens were very mild, especially the one which applies more particularly to the establishment of a tyranny. the law ran as follows: 'these are the ancestral statutes of the athenians; if any persons shall make an attempt to establish a tyranny, or if any person shall join in setting up a tyranny, he shall lose his civic rights, both himself and his whole house.' part thus did pisistratus grow old in the possession of power, and he died a natural death in the archonship of philoneos, three and thirty years from the time at which he first established himself as tyrant, during nineteen of which he was in possession of power; the rest he spent in exile. it is evident from this that the story is mere gossip which states that pisistratus was the youthful favourite of solon and commanded in the war against megara for the recovery of salamis. it will not harmonize with their respective ages, as any one may see who will reckon up the years of the life of each of them, and the dates at which they died. after the death of pisistratus his sons took up the government, and conducted it on the same system. he had two sons by his first and legitimate wife, hippias and hipparchus, and two by his argive consort, iophon and hegesistratus, who was surnamed thessalus. for pisistratus took a wife from argos, timonassa, the daughter of a man of argos, named gorgilus; she had previously been the wife of archinus of ambracia, one of the descendants of cypselus. this was the origin of his friendship with the argives, on account of which a thousand of them were brought over by hegesistratus and fought on his side in the battle at pallene. some authorities say that this marriage took place after his first expulsion from athens, others while he was in possession of the government. part hippias and hipparchus assumed the control of affairs on grounds alike of standing and of age; but hippias, as being also naturally of a statesmanlike and shrewd disposition, was really the head of the government. hipparchus was youthful in disposition, amorous, and fond of literature (it was he who invited to athens anacreon, simonides, and the other poets), while thessalus was much junior in age, and was violent and headstrong in his behaviour. it was from his character that all the evils arose which befell the house. he became enamoured of harmodius, and, since he failed to win his affection, he lost all restraint upon his passion, and in addition to other exhibitions of rage he finally prevented the sister of harmodius from taking the part of a basket-bearer in the panathenaic procession, alleging as his reason that harmodius was a person of loose life. thereupon, in a frenzy of wrath, harmodius and aristogeiton did their celebrated deed, in conjunction with a number of confederates. but while they were lying in wait for hippias in the acropolis at the time of the panathenaea (hippias, at this moment, was awaiting the arrival of the procession, while hipparchus was organizing its dispatch) they saw one of the persons privy to the plot talking familiarly with him. thinking that he was betraying them, and desiring to do something before they were arrested, they rushed down and made their attempt without waiting for the rest of their confederates. they succeeded in killing hipparchus near the leocoreum while he was engaged in arranging the procession, but ruined the design as a whole; of the two leaders, harmodius was killed on the spot by the guards, while aristogeiton was arrested, and perished later after suffering long tortures. while under the torture he accused many persons who belonged by birth to the most distinguished families and were also personal friends of the tyrants. at first the government could find no clue to the conspiracy; for the current story, that hippias made all who were taking part in the procession leave their arms, and then detected those who were carrying secret daggers, cannot be true, since at that time they did not bear arms in the processions, this being a custom instituted at a later period by the democracy. according to the story of the popular party, aristogeiton accused the friends of the tyrants with the deliberate intention that the latter might commit an impious act, and at the same time weaken themselves, by putting to death innocent men who were their own friends; others say that he told no falsehood, but was betraying the actual accomplices. at last, when for all his efforts he could not obtain release by death, he promised to give further information against a number of other persons; and, having induced hippias to give him his hand to confirm his word, as soon as he had hold of it he reviled him for giving his hand to the murderer of his brother, till hippias, in a frenzy of rage, lost control of himself and snatched out his dagger and dispatched him. part after this event the tyranny became much harsher. in consequence of his vengeance for his brother, and of the execution and banishment of a large number of persons, hippias became a distrusted and an embittered man. about three years after the death of hipparchus, finding his position in the city insecure, he set about fortifying munichia, with the intention of establishing himself there. while he was still engaged on this work, however, he was expelled by cleomenes, king of lacedaemon, in consequence of the spartans being continually incited by oracles to overthrow the tyranny. these oracles were obtained in the following way. the athenian exiles, headed by the alcmeonidae, could not by their own power effect their return, but failed continually in their attempts. among their other failures, they fortified a post in attica, lipsydrium, above mt. parnes, and were there joined by some partisans from the city; but they were besieged by the tyrants and reduced to surrender. after this disaster the following became a popular drinking song: ah! lipsydrium, faithless friend! lo, what heroes to death didst send, nobly born and great in deed! well did they prove themselves at need of noble sires a noble seed. having failed, then, in every other method, they took the contract for rebuilding the temple at delphi, thereby obtaining ample funds, which they employed to secure the help of the lacedaemonians. all this time the pythia kept continually enjoining on the lacedaemonians who came to consult the oracle, that they must free athens; till finally she succeeded in impelling the spartans to that step, although the house of pisistratus was connected with them by ties of hospitality. the resolution of the lacedaemonians was, however, at least equally due to the friendship which had been formed between the house of pisistratus and argos. accordingly they first sent anchimolus by sea at the head of an army; but he was defeated and killed, through the arrival of cineas of thessaly to support the sons of pisistratus with a force of a thousand horsemen. then, being roused to anger by this disaster, they sent their king, cleomenes, by land at the head of a larger force; and he, after defeating the thessalian cavalry when they attempted to intercept his march into attica, shut up hippias within what was known as the pelargic wall and blockaded him there with the assistance of the athenians. while he was sitting down before the place, it so happened that the sons of the pisistratidae were captured in an attempt to slip out; upon which the tyrants capitulated on condition of the safety of their children, and surrendered the acropolis to the athenians, five days being first allowed them to remove their effects. this took place in the archonship of harpactides, after they had held the tyranny for about seventeen years since their father's death, or in all, including the period of their father's rule, for nine-and-forty years. part after the overthrow of the tyranny, the rival leaders in the state were isagoras son of tisander, a partisan of the tyrants, and cleisthenes, who belonged to the family of the alcmeonidae. cleisthenes, being beaten in the political clubs, called in the people by giving the franchise to the masses. thereupon isagoras, finding himself left inferior in power, invited cleomenes, who was united to him by ties of hospitality, to return to athens, and persuaded him to 'drive out the pollution', a plea derived from the fact that the alcmeonidae were suppposed to be under the curse of pollution. on this cleisthenes retired from the country, and cleomenes, entering attica with a small force, expelled, as polluted, seven hundred athenian families. having effected this, he next attempted to dissolve the council, and to set up isagoras and three hundred of his partisans as the supreme power in the state. the council, however, resisted, the populace flocked together, and cleomenes and isagoras, with their adherents, took refuge in the acropolis. here the people sat down and besieged them for two days; and on the third they agreed to let cleomenes and all his followers depart, while they summoned cleisthenes and the other exiles back to athens. when the people had thus obtained the command of affairs, cleisthenes was their chief and popular leader. and this was natural; for the alcmeonidae were perhaps the chief cause of the expulsion of the tyrants, and for the greater part of their rule were at perpetual war with them. but even earlier than the attempts of the alcmeonidae, one cedon made an attack on the tyrants; when there came another popular drinking song, addressed to him: pour a health yet again, boy, to cedon; forget not this duty to do, if a health is an honour befitting the name of a good man and true. part the people, therefore, had good reason to place confidence in cleisthenes. accordingly, now that he was the popular leader, three years after the expulsion of the tyrants, in the archonship of isagoras, his first step was to distribute the whole population into ten tribes in place of the existing four, with the object of intermixing the members of the different tribes, and so securing that more persons might have a share in the franchise. from this arose the saying 'do not look at the tribes', addressed to those who wished to scrutinize the lists of the old families. next he made the council to consist of five hundred members instead of four hundred, each tribe now contributing fifty, whereas formerly each had sent a hundred. the reason why he did not organize the people into twelve tribes was that he might not have to use the existing division into trittyes; for the four tribes had twelve trittyes, so that he would not have achieved his object of redistributing the population in fresh combinations. further, he divided the country into thirty groups of demes, ten from the districts about the city, ten from the coast, and ten from the interior. these he called trittyes; and he assigned three of them by lot to each tribe, in such a way that each should have one portion in each of these three localities. all who lived in any given deme he declared fellow-demesmen, to the end that the new citizens might not be exposed by the habitual use of family names, but that men might be officially described by the names of their demes; and accordingly it is by the names of their demes that the athenians speak of one another. he also instituted demarchs, who had the same duties as the previously existing naucrari,--the demes being made to take the place of the naucraries. he gave names to the demes, some from the localities to which they belonged, some from the persons who founded them, since some of the areas no longer corresponded to localities possessing names. on the other hand he allowed every one to retain his family and clan and religious rites according to ancestral custom. the names given to the tribes were the ten which the pythia appointed out of the hundred selected national heroes. part by these reforms the constitution became much more democratic than that of solon. the laws of solon had been obliterated by disuse during the period of the tyranny, while cleisthenes substituted new ones with the object of securing the goodwill of the masses. among these was the law concerning ostracism. four years after the establishment of this system, in the archonship of hermocreon, they first imposed upon the council of five hundred the oath which they take to the present day. next they began to elect the generals by tribes, one from each tribe, while the polemarch was the commander of the whole army. then, eleven years later, in the archonship of phaenippus they won the battle of marathon; and two years after this victory, when the people had now gained self-confidence, they for the first time made use of the law of ostracism. this had originally been passed as a precaution against men in high office, because pisistratus took advantage of his position as a popular leader and general to make himself tyrant; and the first person ostracized was one of his relatives, hipparchus son of charmus, of the deme of collytus, the very person on whose account especially cleisthenes had enacted the law, as he wished to get rid of him. hitherto, however, he had escaped; for the athenians, with the usual leniency of the democracy, allowed all the partisans of the tyrants, who had not joined in their evil deeds in the time of the troubles to remain in the city; and the chief and leader of these was hipparchus. then in the very next year, in the archonship of telesinus, they for the first time since the tyranny elected, tribe by tribe, the nine archons by lot out of the five hundred candidates selected by the demes, all the earlier ones having been elected by vote; and in the same year megacles son of hippocrates, of the deme of alopece, was ostracized. thus for three years they continued to ostracize the friends of the tyrants, on whose account the law had been passed; but in the following year they began to remove others as well, including any one who seemed to be more powerful than was expedient. the first person unconnected with the tyrants who was ostracized was xanthippus son of ariphron. two years later, in the archonship of nicodemus, the mines of maroneia were discovered, and the state made a profit of a hundred talents from the working of them. some persons advised the people to make a distribution of the money among themselves, but this was prevented by themistocles. he refused to say on what he proposed to spend the money, but he bade them lend it to the hundred richest men in athens, one talent to each, and then, if the manner in which it was employed pleased the people, the expenditure should be charged to the state, but otherwise the state should receive the sum back from those to whom it was lent. on these terms he received the money and with it he had a hundred triremes built, each of the hundred individuals building one; and it was with these ships that they fought the battle of salamis against the barbarians. about this time aristides the son of lysimachus was ostracized. three years later, however, in the archonship of hypsichides, all the ostracized persons were recalled, on account of the advance of the army of xerxes; and it was laid down for the future that persons under sentence of ostracism must live between geraestus and scyllaeum, on pain of losing their civic rights irrevocably. part so far, then, had the city progressed by this time, growing gradually with the growth of the democracy; but after the persian wars the council of areopagus once more developed strength and assumed the control of the state. it did not acquire this supremacy by virtue of any formal decree, but because it had been the cause of the battle of salamis being fought. when the generals were utterly at a loss how to meet the crisis and made proclamation that every one should see to his own safety, the areopagus provided a donation of money, distributing eight drachmas to each member of the ships' crews, and so prevailed on them to go on board. on these grounds people bowed to its prestige; and during this period athens was well administered. at this time they devoted themselves to the prosecution of the war and were in high repute among the greeks, so that the command by sea was conferred upon them, in spite of the opposition of the lacedaemonians. the leaders of the people during this period were aristides, of lysimachus, and themistocles, son of lysimachus, and themistocles, son of neocles, of whom the latter appeared to devote himself to the conduct of war, while the former had the reputation of being a clever statesman and the most upright man of his time. accordingly the one was usually employed as general, the other as political adviser. the rebuilding of the fortifications they conducted in combination, although they were political opponents; but it was aristides who, seizing the opportunity afforded by the discredit brought upon the lacedaemonians by pausanias, guided the public policy in the matter of the defection of the ionian states from the alliance with sparta. it follows that it was he who made the first assessment of tribute from the various allied states, two years after the battle of salamis, in the archonship of timosthenes; and it was he who took the oath of offensive and defensive alliance with the ionians, on which occasion they cast the masses of iron into the sea. part after this, seeing the state growing in confidence and much wealth accumulated, he advised the people to lay hold of the leadership of the league, and to quit the country districts and settle in the city. he pointed out to them that all would be able to gain a living there, some by service in the army, others in the garrisons, others by taking a part in public affairs; and in this way they would secure the leadership. this advice was taken; and when the people had assumed the supreme control they proceeded to treat their allies in a more imperious fashion, with the exception of the chians, lesbians, and samians. these they maintained to protect their empire, leaving their constitutions untouched, and allowing them to retain whatever dominion they then possessed. they also secured an ample maintenance for the mass of the population in the way which aristides had pointed out to them. out of the proceeds of the tributes and the taxes and the contributions of the allies more than twenty thousand persons were maintained. there were , jurymen, , bowmen, , knights, members of the council, guards of the dockyards, besides fifty guards in the acropolis. there were some magistrates at home, and some abroad. further, when they subsequently went to war, there were in addition , heavy-armed troops, twenty guard-ships, and other ships which collected the tributes, with crews amounting to , men, selected by lot; and besides these there were the persons maintained at the prytaneum, and orphans, and gaolers, since all these were supported by the state. part such was the way in which the people earned their livelihood. the supremacy of the areopagus lasted for about seventeen years after the persian wars, although gradually declining. but as the strength of the masses increased, ephialtes, son of sophonides, a man with a reputation for incorruptibility and public virtue, who had become the leader of the people, made an attack upon that council. first of all he ruined many of its members by bringing actions against them with reference to their administration. then, in the archonship of conon, he stripped the council of all the acquired prerogatives from which it derived its guardianship of the constitution, and assigned some of them to the council of five hundred, and others to the assembly and the law-courts. in this revolution he was assisted by themistocles, who was himself a member of the areopagus, but was expecting to be tried before it on a charge of treasonable dealings with persia. this made him anxious that it should be overthrown, and accordingly he warned ephialtes that the council intended to arrest him, while at the same time he informed the areopagites that he would reveal to them certain persons who were conspiring to subvert the constitution. he then conducted the representatives delegated by the council to the residence of ephialtes, promising to show them the conspirators who assembled there, and proceeded to converse with them in an earnest manner. ephialtes, seeing this, was seized with alarm and took refuge in suppliant guise at the altar. every one was astounded at the occurrence, and presently, when the council of five hundred met, ephialtes and themistocles together proceeded to denounce the areopagus to them. this they repeated in similar fashion in the assembly, until they succeeded in depriving it of its power. not long afterwards, however, ephialtes was assassinated by aristodicus of tanagra. in this way was the council of areopagus deprived of its guardianship of the state. part after this revolution the administration of the state became more and more lax, in consequence of the eager rivalry of candidates for popular favour. during this period the moderate party, as it happened, had no real chief, their leader being cimon son of miltiades, who was a comparatively young man, and had been late in entering public life; and at the same time the general populace suffered great losses by war. the soldiers for active service were selected at that time from the roll of citizens, and as the generals were men of no military experience, who owed their position solely to their family standing, it continually happened that some two or three thousand of the troops perished on an expedition; and in this way the best men alike of the lower and the upper classes were exhausted. consequently in most matters of administration less heed was paid to the laws than had formerly been the case. no alteration, however, was made in the method of election of the nine archons, except that five years after the death of ephialtes it was decided that the candidates to be submitted to the lot for that office might be selected from the zeugitae as well as from the higher classes. the first archon from that class was mnesitheides. up to this time all the archons had been taken from the pentacosiomedimni and knights, while the zeugitae were confined to the ordinary magistracies, save where an evasion of the law was overlooked. four years later, in the archonship of lysicrates, thirty 'local justices', as they as they were called, were re-established; and two years afterwards, in the archonship of antidotus, consequence of the great increase in the number of citizens, it was resolved, on the motion of pericles, that no one should be admitted to the franchise who was not of citizen birth by both parents. part after this pericles came forward as popular leader, having first distinguished himself while still a young man by prosecuting cimon on the audit of his official accounts as general. under his auspices the constitution became still more democratic. he took away some of the privileges of the areopagus, and, above all, he turned the policy of the state in the direction of sea power, which caused the masses to acquire confidence in themselves and consequently to take the conduct of affairs more and more into their own hands. moreover, forty-eight years after the battle of salamis, in the archonship of pythodorus, the peloponnesian war broke out, during which the populace was shut up in the city and became accustomed to gain its livelihood by military service, and so, partly voluntarily and partly involuntarily, determined to assume the administration of the state itself. pericles was also the first to institute pay for service in the law-courts, as a bid for popular favour to counterbalance the wealth of cimon. the latter, having private possessions on a regal scale, not only performed the regular public services magnificently, but also maintained a large number of his fellow-demesmen. any member of the deme of laciadae could go every day to cimon's house and there receive a reasonable provision; while his estate was guarded by no fences, so that any one who liked might help himself to the fruit from it. pericles' private property was quite unequal to this magnificence and accordingly he took the advice of damonides of oia (who was commonly supposed to be the person who prompted pericles in most of his measures, and was therefore subsequently ostracized), which was that, as he was beaten in the matter of private possessions, he should make gifts to the people from their own property; and accordingly he instituted pay for the members of the juries. some critics accuse him of thereby causing a deterioration in the character of the juries, since it was always the common people who put themselves forward for selection as jurors, rather than the men of better position. moreover, bribery came into existence after this, the first person to introduce it being anytus, after his command at pylos. he was prosecuted by certain individuals on account of his loss of pylos, but escaped by bribing the jury. part so long, however, as pericles was leader of the people, things went tolerably well with the state; but when he was dead there was a great change for the worse. then for the first time did the people choose a leader who was of no reputation among men of good standing, whereas up to this time such men had always been found as leaders of the democracy. the first leader of the people, in the very beginning of things, was solon, and the second was pisistratus, both of them men of birth and position. after the overthrow of the tyrants there was cleisthenes, a member of the house of the alcmeonidae; and he had no rival opposed to him after the expulsion of the party of isagoras. after this xanthippus was the leader of the people, and miltiades of the upper class. then came themistocles and aristides, and after them ephialtes as leader of the people, and cimon son of miltiades of the wealthier class. pericles followed as leader of the people, and thucydides, who was connected by marriage with cimon, of the opposition. after the death of pericles, nicias, who subsequently fell in sicily, appeared as leader of the aristocracy, and cleon son of cleaenetus of the people. the latter seems, more than any one else, to have been the cause of the corruption of the democracy by his wild undertakings; and he was the first to use unseemly shouting and coarse abuse on the bema, and to harangue the people with his cloak girt up short about him, whereas all his predecessors had spoken decently and in order. these were succeeded by theramenes son of hagnon as leader of the one party, and the lyre-maker cleophon of the people. it was cleophon who first granted the two-obol donation for the theatrical performances, and for some time it continued to be given; but then callicrates of paeania ousted him by promising to add a third obol to the sum. both of these persons were subsequently condemned to death; for the people, even if they are deceived for a time, in the end generally come to detest those who have beguiled them into any unworthy action. after cleophon the popular leadership was occupied successively by the men who chose to talk the biggest and pander the most to the tastes of the majority, with their eyes fixed only on the interests of the moment. the best statesmen at athens, after those of early times, seem to have been nicias, thucydides, and theramenes. as to nicias and thucydides, nearly every one agrees that they were not merely men of birth and character, but also statesmen, and that they ruled the state with paternal care. on the merits of theramenes opinion is divided, because it so happened that in his time public affairs were in a very stormy state. but those who give their opinion deliberately find him, not, as his critics falsely assert, overthrowing every kind of constitution, but supporting every kind so long as it did not transgress laws; thus showing that he was able, as every good citizen should be, to live under any form of constitution, while he refused to countenance illegality and was its constant enemy. part so long as the fortune of the war continued even, the athenians preserved the democracy; but after the disaster in sicily, when the lacedaemonians had gained the upper hand through their alliance with the king of persia, they were compelled to abolish the democracy and establish in its place the constitution of the four hundred. the speech recommending this course before the vote was made by melobius, and the motion was proposed by pythodorus of anaphlystus; but the real argument which persuaded the majority was the belief that the king of persia was more likely to form an alliance with them if the constitution were on an oligarchical basis. the motion of pythodorus was to the following effect. the popular assembly was to elect twenty persons, over forty years of age, who, in conjunction with the existing ten members of the committee of public safety, after taking an oath that they would frame such measures as they thought best for the state, should then prepare proposals for the public safety. in addition, any other person might make proposals, so that of all the schemes before them the people might choose the best. cleitophon concurred with the motion of pythodorus, but moved that the committee should also investigate the ancient laws enacted by cleisthenes when he created the democracy, in order that they might have these too before them and so be in a position to decide wisely; his suggestion being that the constitution of cleisthenes was not really democratic, but closely akin to that of solon. when the committee was elected, their first proposal was that the prytanes should be compelled to put to the vote any motion that was offered on behalf of the public safety. next they abolished all indictments for illegal proposals, all impeachments and pubic prosecutions, in order that every athenian should be free to give his counsel on the situation, if he chose; and they decreed that if any person imposed a fine on any other for his acts in this respect, or prosecuted him or summoned him before the courts, he should, on an information being laid against him, be summarily arrested and brought before the generals, who should deliver him to the eleven to be put to death. after these preliminary measures, they drew up the constitution in the following manner. the revenues of the state were not to be spent on any purpose except the war. all magistrates should serve without remuneration for the period of the war, except the nine archons and the prytanes for the time being, who should each receive three obols a day. the whole of the rest of the administration was to be committed, for the period of the war, to those athenians who were most capable of serving the state personally or pecuniarily, to the number of not less than five thousand. this body was to have full powers, to the extent even of making treaties with whomsoever they willed; and ten representatives, over forty years of age, were to be elected from each tribe to draw up the list of the five thousand, after taking an oath on a full and perfect sacrifice. part these were the recommendations of the committee; and when they had been ratified the five thousand elected from their own number a hundred commissioners to draw up the constitution. they, on their appointment, drew up and produced the following recommendations. there should be a council, holding office for a year, consisting of men over thirty years of age, serving without pay. to this body should belong the generals, the nine archons, the amphictyonic registrar (hieromnemon), the taxiarchs, the hipparchs, the phylarch, the commanders of garrisons, the treasurers of athena and the other gods, ten in number, the hellenic treasurers (hellenotamiae), the treasurers of the other non-sacred moneys, to the number of twenty, the ten commissioners of sacrifices (hieropoei), and the ten superintendents of the mysteries. all these were to be appointed by the council from a larger number of selected candidates, chosen from its members for the time being. the other offices were all to be filled by lot, and not from the members of the council. the hellenic treasurers who actually administered the funds should not sit with the council. as regards the future, four councils were to be created, of men of the age already mentioned, and one of these was to be chosen by lot to take office at once, while the others were to receive it in turn, in the order decided by the lot. for this purpose the hundred commissioners were to distribute themselves and all the rest as equally as possible into four parts, and cast lots for precedence, and the selected body should hold office for a year. they were to administer that office as seemed to them best, both with reference to the safe custody and due expenditure of the finances, and generally with regard to all other matters to the best of their ability. if they desired to take a larger number of persons into counsel, each member might call in one assistant of his own choice, subject to the same qualification of age. the council was to sit once every five days, unless there was any special need for more frequent sittings. the casting of the lot for the council was to be held by the nine archons; votes on divisions were to be counted by five tellers chosen by lot from the members of the council, and of these one was to be selected by lot every day to act as president. these five persons were to cast lots for precedence between the parties wishing to appear before the council, giving the first place to sacred matters, the second to heralds, the third to embassies, and the fourth to all other subjects; but matters concerning the war might be dealt with, on the motion of the generals, whenever there was need, without balloting. any member of the council who did not enter the council-house at the time named should be fined a drachma for each day, unless he was away on leave of absence from the council. part such was the constitution which they drew up for the time to come, but for the immediate present they devised the following scheme. there should be a council of four hundred, as in the ancient constitution, forty from each tribe, chosen out of candidates of more than thirty years of age, selected by the members of the tribes. this council should appoint the magistrates and draw up the form of oath which they were to take; and in all that concerned the laws, in the examination of official accounts, and in other matters generally, they might act according to their discretion. they must, however, observe the laws that might be enacted with reference to the constitution of the state, and had no power to alter them nor to pass others. the generals should be provisionally elected from the whole body of the five thousand, but so soon as the council came into existence it was to hold an examination of military equipments, and thereon elect ten persons, together with a secretary, and the persons thus elected should hold office during the coming year with full powers, and should have the right, whenever they desired it, of joining in the deliberations of the council. the five thousand was also to elect a single hipparch and ten phylarchs; but for the future the council was to elect these officers according to the regulations above laid down. no office, except those of member of the council and of general, might be held more than once, either by the first occupants or by their successors. with reference to the future distribution of the four hundred into the four successive sections, the hundred commissioners must divide them whenever the time comes for the citizens to join in the council along with the rest. part the hundred commissioners appointed by the five thousand drew up the constitution as just stated; and after it had been ratified by the people, under the presidency of aristomachus, the existing council, that of the year of callias, was dissolved before it had completed its term of office. it was dissolved on the fourteenth day of the month thargelion, and the four hundred entered into office on the twenty-first; whereas the regular council, elected by lot, ought to have entered into office on the fourteenth of scirophorion. thus was the oligarchy established, in the archonship of callias, just about a hundred years after the expulsion of the tyrants. the chief promoters of the revolution were pisander, antiphon, and theramenes, all of them men of good birth and with high reputations for ability and judgement. when, however, this constitution had been established, the five thousand were only nominally selected, and the four hundred, together with the ten officers on whom full powers had been conferred, occupied the council-house and really administered the government. they began by sending ambassadors to the lacedaemonians proposing a cessation of the war on the basis of the existing position; but as the lacedaemonians refused to listen to them unless they would also abandon the command of the sea, they broke off the negotiations. part for about four months the constitution of the four hundred lasted, and mnasilochus held office as archon of their nomination for two months of the year of theopompus, who was archon for the remaining ten. on the loss of the naval battle of eretria, however, and the revolt of the whole of euboea except oreum, the indignation of the people was greater than at any of the earlier disasters, since they drew far more supplies at this time from euboea than from attica itself. accordingly they deposed the four hundred and committed the management of affairs to the five thousand, consisting of persons possessing a military equipment. at the same time they voted that pay should not be given for any public office. the persons chiefly responsible for the revolution were aristocrates and theramenes, who disapproved of the action of the four hundred in retaining the direction of affairs entirely in their own hands, and referring nothing to the five thousand. during this period the constitution of the state seems to have been admirable, since it was a time of war and the franchise was in the hands of those who possessed a military equipment. part the people, however, in a very short time deprived the five thousand of their monopoly of the government. then, six years after the overthrow of the four hundred, in the archonship of callias of angele, the battle of arginusae took place, of which the results were, first, that the ten generals who had gained the victory were all condemned by a single decision, owing to the people being led astray by persons who aroused their indignation; though, as a matter of fact, some of the generals had actually taken no part in the battle, and others were themselves picked up by other vessels. secondly, when the lacedaemonians proposed to evacuate decelea and make peace on the basis of the existing position, although some of the athenians supported this proposal, the majority refused to listen to them. in this they were led astray by cleophon, who appeared in the assembly drunk and wearing his breastplate, and prevented peace being made, declaring that he would never accept peace unless the lacedaemonians abandoned their claims on all the cities allied with them. they mismanaged their opportunity then, and in a very short time they learnt their mistake. the next year, in the archonship of alexias, they suffered the disaster of aegospotami, the consequence of which was that lysander became master of the city, and set up the thirty as its governors. he did so in the following manner. one of the terms of peace stipulated that the state should be governed according to 'the ancient constitution'. accordingly the popular party tried to preserve the democracy, while that part of the upper class which belonged to the political clubs, together with the exiles who had returned since the peace, aimed at an oligarchy, and those who were not members of any club, though in other respects they considered themselves as good as any other citizens, were anxious to restore the ancient constitution. the latter class included archinus, anytus, cleitophon, phormisius, and many others, but their most prominent leader was theramenes. lysander, however, threw his influence on the side of the oligarchical party, and the popular assembly was compelled by sheer intimidation to pass a vote establishing the oligarchy. the motion to this effect was proposed by dracontides of aphidna. part in this way were the thirty established in power, in the archonship of pythodorus. as soon, however, as they were masters of the city, they ignored all the resolutions which had been passed relating to the organization of the constitution, but after appointing a council of five hundred and the other magistrates out of a thousand selected candidates, and associating with themselves ten archons in piraeus, eleven superintendents of the prison, and three hundred 'lash-bearers' as attendants, with the help of these they kept the city under their own control. at first, indeed, they behaved with moderation towards the citizens and pretended to administer the state according to the ancient constitution. in pursuance of this policy they took down from the hill of areopagus the laws of ephialtes and archestratus relating to the areopagite council; they also repealed such of the statutes of solon as were obscure, and abolished the supreme power of the law-courts. in this they claimed to be restoring the constitution and freeing it from obscurities; as, for instance, by making the testator free once for all to leave his property as he pleased, and abolishing the existing limitations in cases of insanity, old age, and undue female influence, in order that no opening might be left for professional accusers. in other matters also their conduct was similar. at first, then, they acted on these lines, and they destroyed the professional accusers and those mischievous and evil-minded persons who, to the great detriment of the democracy, had attached themselves to it in order to curry favour with it. with all of this the city was much pleased, and thought that the thirty were doing it with the best of motives. but so soon as they had got a firmer hold on the city, they spared no class of citizens, but put to death any persons who were eminent for wealth or birth or character. herein they aimed at removing all whom they had reason to fear, while they also wished to lay hands on their possessions; and in a short time they put to death not less than fifteen hundred persons. part theramenes, however, seeing the city thus falling into ruin, was displeased with their proceedings, and counselled them to cease such unprincipled conduct and let the better classes have a share in the government. at first they resisted his advice, but when his proposals came to be known abroad, and the masses began to associate themselves with him, they were seized with alarm lest he should make himself the leader of the people and destroy their despotic power. accordingly they drew up a list of three thousand citizens, to whom they announced that they would give a share in the constitution. theramenes, however, criticized this scheme also, first on the ground that, while proposing to give all respectable citizens a share in the constitution, they were actually giving it only to three thousand persons, as though all merit were confined within that number; and secondly because they were doing two inconsistent things, since they made the government rest on the basis of force, and yet made the governors inferior in strength to the governed. however, they took no notice of his criticisms, and for a long time put off the publication of the list of the three thousand and kept to themselves the names of those who had been placed upon it; and every time they did decide to publish it they proceeded to strike out some of those who had been included in it, and insert others who had been omitted. part now when winter had set in, thrasybulus and the exiles occupied phyle, and the force which the thirty led out to attack them met with a reverse. thereupon the thirty decided to disarm the bulk of the population and to get rid of theramenes; which they did in the following way. they introduced two laws into the council, which they commanded it to pass; the first of them gave the thirty absolute power to put to death any citizen who was not included in the list of the three thousand, while the second disqualified all persons from participation in the franchise who should have assisted in the demolition of the fort of eetioneia, or have acted in any way against the four hundred who had organized the previous oligarchy. theramenes had done both, and accordingly, when these laws were ratified, he became excluded from the franchise and the thirty had full power to put him to death. theramenes having been thus removed, they disarmed all the people except the three thousand, and in every respect showed a great advance in cruelty and crime. they also sent ambassadors to lacedaemonian to blacken the character of theramenes and to ask for help; and the lacedaemonians, in answer to their appeal, sent callibius as military governor with about seven hundred troops, who came and occupied the acropolis. part these events were followed by the occupation of munichia by the exiles from phyle, and their victory over the thirty and their partisans. after the fight the party of the city retreated, and next day they held a meeting in the marketplace and deposed the thirty, and elected ten citizens with full powers to bring the war to a termination. when, however, the ten had taken over the government they did nothing towards the object for which they were elected, but sent envoys to lacedaemonian to ask for help and to borrow money. further, finding that the citizens who possessed the franchise were displeased at their proceedings, they were afraid lest they should be deposed, and consequently, in order to strike terror into them (in which design they succeeded), they arrested demaretus, one of the most eminent citizens, and put him to death. this gave them a firm hold on the government, and they also had the support of callibius and his peloponnesians, together with several of the knights; for some of the members of this class were the most zealous among the citizens to prevent the return of the exiles from phyle. when, however, the party in piraeus and munichia began to gain the upper hand in the war, through the defection of the whole populace to them, the party in the city deposed the original ten, and elected another ten, consisting of men of the highest repute. under their administration, and with their active and zealous cooperation, the treaty of reconciliation was made and the populace returned to the city. the most prominent members of this board were rhinon of paeania and phayllus of acherdus, who, even before the arrival of pausanias, opened negotiations with the party in piraeus, and after his arrival seconded his efforts to bring about the return of the exiles. for it was pausanias, the king of the lacedaemonians, who brought the peace and reconciliation to a fulfillment, in conjunction with the ten commissioners of arbitration who arrived later from lacedaemonian, at his own earnest request. rhinon and his colleagues received a vote of thanks for the goodwill shown by them to the people, and though they received their charge under an oligarchy and handed in their accounts under a democracy, no one, either of the party that had stayed in the city or of the exiles that had returned from the piraeus, brought any complaint against them. on the contrary, rhinon was immediately elected general on account of his conduct in this office. part this reconciliation was effected in the archonship of eucleides, on the following terms. all persons who, having remained in the city during the troubles, were now anxious to leave it, were to be free to settle at eleusis, retaining their civil rights and possessing full and independent powers of self-government, and with the free enjoyment of their own personal property. the temple at eleusis should be common ground for both parties, and should be under the superintendence of the ceryces, and the eumolpidae, according to primitive custom. the settlers at eleusis should not be allowed to enter athens, nor the people of athens to enter eleusis, except at the season of the mysteries, when both parties should be free from these restrictions. the secessionists should pay their share to the fund for the common defence out of their revenues, just like all the other athenians. if any of the seceding party wished to take a house in eleusis, the people would help them to obtain the consent of the owner; but if they could not come to terms, they should appoint three valuers on either side, and the owner should receive whatever price they should appoint. of the inhabitants of eleusis, those whom the secessionists wished to remain should be allowed to do so. the list of those who desired to secede should be made up within ten days after the taking of the oaths in the case of persons already in the country, and their actual departure should take place within twenty days; persons at present out of the country should have the same terms allowed to them after their return. no one who settled at eleusis should be capable of holding any office in athens until he should again register himself on the roll as a resident in the city. trials for homicide, including all cases in which one party had either killed or wounded another, should be conducted according to ancestral practice. there should be a general amnesty concerning past events towards all persons except the thirty, the ten, the eleven, and the magistrates in piraeus; and these too should be included if they should submit their accounts in the usual way. such accounts should be given by the magistrates in piraeus before a court of citizens rated in piraeus, and by the magistrates in the city before a court of those rated in the city. on these terms those who wished to do so might secede. each party was to repay separately the money which it had borrowed for the war. part when the reconciliation had taken place on these terms, those who had fought on the side of the thirty felt considerable apprehensions, and a large number intended to secede. but as they put off entering their names till the last moment, as people will do, archinus, observing their numbers, and being anxious to retain them as citizens, cut off the remaining days during which the list should have remained open; and in this way many persons were compelled to remain, though they did so very unwillingly until they recovered confidence. this is one point in which archinus appears to have acted in a most statesmanlike manner, and another was his subsequent prosecution of thrasybulus on the charge of illegality, for a motion by which he proposed to confer the franchise on all who had taken part in the return from piraeus, although some of them were notoriously slaves. and yet a third such action was when one of the returned exiles began to violate the amnesty, whereupon archinus haled him to the council and persuaded them to execute him without trial, telling them that now they would have to show whether they wished to preserve the democracy and abide by the oaths they had taken; for if they let this man escape they would encourage others to imitate him, while if they executed him they would make an example for all to learn by. and this was exactly what happened; for after this man had been put to death no one ever again broke the amnesty. on the contrary, the athenians seem, both in public and in private, to have behaved in the most unprecedentedly admirable and public-spirited way with reference to the preceding troubles. not only did they blot out all memory of former offences, but they even repaid to the lacedaemonians out of the public purse the money which the thirty had borrowed for the war, although the treaty required each party, the party of the city and the party of piraeus, to pay its own debts separately. this they did because they thought it was a necessary first step in the direction of restoring harmony; but in other states, so far from the democratic parties making advances from their own possessions, they are rather in the habit of making a general redistribution of the land. a final reconciliation was made with the secessionists at eleusis two years after the secession, in the archonship of xenaenetus. part this, however, took place at a later date; at the time of which we are speaking the people, having secured the control of the state, established the constitution which exists at the present day. pythodorus was archon at the time, but the democracy seems to have assumed the supreme power with perfect justice, since it had effected its own return by its own exertions. this was the eleventh change which had taken place in the constitution of athens. the first modification of the primaeval condition of things was when ion and his companions brought the people together into a community, for then the people was first divided into the four tribes, and the tribe-kings were created. next, and first after this, having now some semblance of a constitution, was that which took place in the reign of theseus, consisting in a slight deviation from absolute monarchy. after this came the constitution formed under draco, when the first code of laws was drawn up. the third was that which followed the civil war, in the time of solon; from this the democracy took its rise. the fourth was the tyranny of pisistratus; the fifth the constitution of cleisthenes, after the overthrow of the tyrants, of a more democratic character than that of solon. the sixth was that which followed on the persian wars, when the council of areopagus had the direction of the state. the seventh, succeeding this, was the constitution which aristides sketched out, and which ephialtes brought to completion by overthrowing the areopagite council; under this the nation, misled by the demagogues, made the most serious mistakes in the interest of its maritime empire. the eighth was the establishment of the four hundred, followed by the ninth, the restored democracy. the tenth was the tyranny of the thirty and the ten. the eleventh was that which followed the return from phyle and piraeus; and this has continued from that day to this, with continual accretions of power to the masses. the democracy has made itself master of everything and administers everything by its votes in the assembly and by the law-courts, in which it holds the supreme power. even the jurisdiction of the council has passed into the hands of the people at large; and this appears to be a judicious change, since small bodies are more open to corruption, whether by actual money or influence, than large ones. at first they refused to allow payment for attendance at the assembly; but the result was that people did not attend. consequently, after the prytanes had tried many devices in vain in order to induce the populace to come and ratify the votes, agyrrhius, in the first instance, made a provision of one obol a day, which heracleides of clazomenae, nicknamed 'the king', increased to two obols, and agyrrhius again to three. part the present state of the constitution is as follows. the franchise is open to all who are of citizen birth by both parents. they are enrolled among the demesmen at the age of eighteen. on the occasion of their enrollment the demesmen give their votes on oath, first whether the candidates appear to be of the age prescribed by the law (if not, they are dismissed back into the ranks of the boys), and secondly whether the candidate is free born and of such parentage as the laws require. then if they decide that he is not a free man, he appeals to the law-courts, and the demesmen appoint five of their own number to act as accusers; if the court decides that he has no right to be enrolled, he is sold by the state as a slave, but if he wins his case he has a right to be enrolled among the demesmen without further question. after this the council examines those who have been enrolled, and if it comes to the conclusion that any of them is less than eighteen years of age, it fines the demesmen who enrolled him. when the youths (ephebi) have passed this examination, their fathers meet by their tribes, and appoint on oath three of their fellow tribesmen, over forty years of age, who, in their opinion, are the best and most suitable persons to have charge of the youths; and of these the assembly elects one from each tribe as guardian, together with a director, chosen from the general body of athenians, to control the while. under the charge of these persons the youths first of all make the circuit of the temples; then they proceed to piraeus, and some of them garrison munichia and some the south shore. the assembly also elects two trainers, with subordinate instructors, who teach them to fight in heavy armour, to use the bow and javelin, and to discharge a catapult. the guardians receive from the state a drachma apiece for their keep, and the youths four obols apiece. each guardian receives the allowance for all the members of his tribe and buys the necessary provisions for the common stock (they mess together by tribes), and generally superintends everything. in this way they spend the first year. the next year, after giving a public display of their military evolutions, on the occasion when the assembly meets in the theatre, they receive a shield and spear from the state; after which they patrol the country and spend their time in the forts. for these two years they are on garrison duty, and wear the military cloak, and during this time they are exempt from all taxes. they also can neither bring an action at law, nor have one brought against them, in order that they may have no excuse for requiring leave of absence; though exception is made in cases of actions concerning inheritances and wards of state, or of any sacrificial ceremony connected with the family. when the two years have elapsed they thereupon take their position among the other citizens. such is the manner of the enrollment of the citizens and the training of the youths. part all the magistrates that are concerned with the ordinary routine of administration are elected by lot, except the military treasurer, the commissioners of the theoric fund, and the superintendent of springs. these are elected by vote, and hold office from one panathenaic festival to the next. all military officers are also elected by vote. the council of five hundred is elected by lot, fifty from each tribe. each tribe holds the office of prytanes in turn, the order being determined by lot; the first four serve for thirty-six days each, the last six for thirty-five, since the reckoning is by lunar years. the prytanes for the time being, in the first place, mess together in the tholus, and receive a sum of money from the state for their maintenance; and, secondly, they convene the meetings of the council and the assembly. the council they convene every day, unless it is a holiday, the assembly four times in each prytany. it is also their duty to draw up the programme of the business of the council and to decide what subjects are to be dealt with on each particular day, and where the sitting is to be held. they also draw up the programme for the meetings of the assembly. one of these in each prytany is called the 'sovereign' assembly; in this the people have to ratify the continuance of the magistrates in office, if they are performing their duties properly, and to consider the supply of corn and the defence of the country. on this day, too, impeachments are introduced by those who wish to do so, the lists of property confiscated by the state are read, and also applications for inheritances and wards of state, so that nothing may pass unclaimed without the cognizance of any person concerned. in the sixth prytany, in addition to the business already stated, the question is put to the vote whether it is desirable to hold a vote of ostracism or not; and complaints against professional accusers, whether athenian or aliens domiciled in athens, are received, to the number of not more than three of either class, together with cases in which an individual has made some promise to the people and has not performed it. another assembly in each prytany is assigned to the hearing of petitions, and at this meeting any one is free, on depositing the petitioner's olive-branch, to speak to the people concerning any matter, public or private. the two remaining meetings are devoted to all other subjects, and the laws require them to deal with three questions connected with religion, three connected with heralds and embassies, and three on secular subjects. sometimes questions are brought forward without a preliminary vote of the assembly to take them into consideration. heralds and envoys appear first before the prytanes, and the bearers of dispatches also deliver them to the same officials. part there is a single president of the prytanes, elected by lot, who presides for a night and a day; he may not hold the office for more than that time, nor may the same individual hold it twice. he keeps the keys of the sanctuaries in which the treasures and public records of the state are preserved, and also the public seal; and he is bound to remain in the tholus, together with one-third of the prytanes, named by himself. whenever the prytanes convene a meeting of the council or assembly, he appoints by lot nine proedri, one from each tribe except that which holds the office of prytanes for the time being; and out of these nine he similarly appoints one as president, and hands over the programme for the meeting to them. they take it and see to the preservation of order, put forward the various subjects which are to be considered, decide the results of the votings, and direct the proceedings generally. they also have power to dismiss the meeting. no one may act as president more than once in the year, but he may be a proedrus once in each prytany. elections to the offices of general and hipparch and all other military commands are held in the assembly, in such manner as the people decide; they are held after the sixth prytany by the first board of prytanes in whose term of office the omens are favourable. there has, however, to be a preliminary consideration by the council in this case also. part in former times the council had full powers to inflict fines and imprisonment and death; but when it had consigned lysimachus to the executioner, and he was sitting in the immediate expectation of death, eumelides of alopece rescued him from its hands, maintaining that no citizen ought to be put to death except on the decision of a court of law. accordingly a trial was held in a law-court, and lysimachus was acquitted, receiving henceforth the nickname of 'the man from the drum-head'; and the people deprived the council thenceforward of the power to inflict death or imprisonment or fine, passing a law that if the council condemn any person for an offence or inflict a fine, the thesmothetae shall bring the sentence or fine before the law-court, and the decision of the jurors shall be the final judgement in the matter. the council passes judgement on nearly all magistrates, especially those who have the control of money; its judgement, however, is not final, but is subject to an appeal to the lawcourts. private individuals, also, may lay an information against any magistrate they please for not obeying the laws, but here too there is an appeal to the law-courts if the council declare the charge proved. the council also examines those who are to be its members for the ensuing year, and likewise the nine archons. formerly the council had full power to reject candidates for office as unsuitable, but now they have an appeal to the law-courts. in all these matters, therefore, the council has no final jurisdiction. it takes, however, preliminary cognizance of all matters brought before the assembly, and the assembly cannot vote on any question unless it has first been considered by the council and placed on the programme by the prytanes; since a person who carries a motion in the assembly is liable to an action for illegal proposal on these grounds. part the council also superintends the triremes that are already in existence, with their tackle and sheds, and builds new triremes or quadriremes, whichever the assembly votes, with tackle and sheds to match. the assembly appoints master-builders for the ships by vote; and if they do not hand them over completed to the next council, the old council cannot receive the customary donation--that being normally given to it during its successor's term of office. for the building of the triremes it appoints ten commissioners, chosen from its own members. the council also inspects all public buildings, and if it is of opinion that the state is being defrauded, it reports the culprit to the assembly, and on condemnation hands him over to the law-courts. part the council also co-operates with other magistrates in most of their duties. first there are the treasurers of athena, ten in number, elected by lot, one from each tribe. according to the law of solon--which is still in force--they must be pentacosiomedimni, but in point of fact the person on whom the lot falls holds the office even though he be quite a poor man. these officers take over charge of the statue of athena, the figures of victory, and all the other ornaments of the temple, together with the money, in the presence of the council. then there are the commissioners for public contracts (poletae), ten in number, one chosen by lot from each tribe, who farm out the public contracts. they lease the mines and taxes, in conjunction with the military treasurer and the commissioners of the theoric fund, in the presence of the council, and grant, to the persons indicated by the vote of the council, the mines which are let out by the state, including both the workable ones, which are let for three years, and those which are let under special agreements years. they also sell, in the presence of the council, the property of those who have gone into exile from the court of the areopagus, and of others whose goods have been confiscated, and the nine archons ratify the contracts. they also hand over to the council lists of the taxes which are farmed out for the year, entering on whitened tablets the name of the lessee and the amount paid. they make separate lists, first of those who have to pay their instalments in each prytany, on ten several tablets, next of those who pay thrice in the year, with a separate tablet for each instalment, and finally of those who pay in the ninth prytany. they also draw up a list of farms and dwellings which have been confiscated and sold by order of the courts; for these too come within their province. in the case of dwellings the value must be paid up in five years, and in that of farms, in ten. the instalments are paid in the ninth prytany. further, the king-archon brings before the council the leases of the sacred enclosures, written on whitened tablets. these too are leased for ten years, and the instalments are paid in the prytany; consequently it is in this prytany that the greatest amount of money is collected. the tablets containing the lists of the instalments are carried into the council, and the public clerk takes charge of them. whenever a payment of instalments is to be made he takes from the pigeon-holes the precise list of the sums which are to be paid and struck off on that day, and delivers it to the receivers-general. the rest are kept apart, in order that no sum may be struck off before it is paid. part there are ten receivers-general (apodectae), elected by lot, one from each tribe. these officers receive the tablets, and strike off the instalments as they are paid, in the presence of the council in the council-chamber, and give the tablets back to the public clerk. if any one fails to pay his instalment, a note is made of it on the tablet; and he is bound to pay double the amount of the deficiency, or, in default, to be imprisoned. the council has full power by the laws to exact these payments and to inflict this imprisonment. they receive all the instalments, therefore, on one day, and portion the money out among the magistrates; and on the next day they bring up the report of the apportionment, written on a wooden notice-board, and read it out in the council-chamber, after which they ask publicly in the council whether any one knows of any malpractice in reference to the apportionment, on the part of either a magistrate or a private individual, and if any one is charged with malpractice they take a vote on it. the council also elects ten auditors (logistae) by lot from its own members, to audit the accounts of the magistrates for each prytany. they also elect one examiner of accounts (euthunus) by lot from each tribe, with two assessors (paredri) for each examiner, whose duty it is to sit at the ordinary market hours, each opposite the statue of the eponymous hero of his tribe; and if any one wishes to prefer a charge, on either public or private grounds, against any magistrate who has passed his audit before the law-courts, within three days of his having so passed, he enters on a whitened tablet his own name and that of the magistrate prosecuted, together with the malpractice that is alleged against him. he also appends his claim for a penalty of such amount as seems to him fitting, and gives in the record to the examiner. the latter takes it, and if after reading it he considers it proved he hands it over, if a private case, to the local justices who introduce cases for the tribe concerned, while if it is a public case he enters it on the register of the thesmothetae. then, if the thesmothetae accept it, they bring the accounts of this magistrate once more before the law-court, and the decision of the jury stands as the final judgement. part the council also inspects the horses belonging to the state. if a man who has a good horse is found to keep it in bad condition, he is mulcted in his allowance of corn; while those which cannot keep up or which shy and will not stand steady, it brands with a wheel on the jaw, and the horse so marked is disqualified for service. it also inspects those who appear to be fit for service as scouts, and any one whom it rejects is deprived of his horse. it also examines the infantry who serve among the cavalry, and any one whom it rejects ceases to receive his pay. the roll of the cavalry is drawn up by the commissioners of enrolment (catalogeis), ten in number, elected by the assembly by open vote. they hand over to the hipparchs and phylarchs the list of those whom they have enrolled, and these officers take it and bring it up before the council, and there open the sealed tablet containing the names of the cavalry. if any of those who have been on the roll previously make affidavit that they are physically incapable of cavalry service, they strike them out; then they call up the persons newly enrolled, and if any one makes affidavit that he is either physically or pecuniarily incapable of cavalry service they dismiss him, but if no such affidavit is made the council vote whether the individual in question is suitable for the purpose or not. if they vote in the affirmative his name is entered on the tablet; if not, he is dismissed with the others. formerly the council used to decide on the plans for public buildings and the contract for making the robe of athena; but now this work is done by a jury in the law-courts appointed by lot, since the council was considered to have shown favouritism in its decisions. the council also shares with the military treasurer the superintendence of the manufacture of the images of victory and the prizes at the panathenaic festival. the council also examines infirm paupers; for there is a law which provides that persons possessing less than three minas, who are so crippled as to be unable to do any work, are, after examination by the council, to receive two obols a day from the state for their support. a treasurer is appointed by lot to attend to them. the council also, speaking broadly, cooperates in most of the duties of all the other magistrates; and this ends the list of the functions of that body. part there are ten commissioners for repairs of temples, elected by lot, who receive a sum of thirty minas from the receivers-general, and therewith carry out the most necessary repairs in the temples. there are also ten city commissioners (astynomi), of whom five hold office in piraeus and five in the city. their duty is to see that female flute- and harp- and lute-players are not hired at more than two drachmas, and if more than one person is anxious to hire the same girl, they cast lots and hire her out to the person to whom the lot falls. they also provide that no collector of sewage shall shoot any of his sewage within ten stradia of the walls; they prevent people from blocking up the streets by building, or stretching barriers across them, or making drain-pipes in mid-air with a discharge into the street, or having doors which open outwards; they also remove the corpses of those who die in the streets, for which purpose they have a body of state slaves assigned to them. part market commissioners (agoranomi) are elected by lot, five for piraeus, five for the city. their statutory duty is to see that all articles offered for sale in the market are pure and unadulterated. commissioners of weights and measures (metronomi) are elected by lot, five for the city, and five for piraeus. they see that sellers use fair weights and measures. formerly there were ten corn commissioners (sitophylaces), elected by lot, five for piraeus, and five for the city; but now there are twenty for the city and fifteen for piraeus. their duties are, first, to see that the unprepared corn in the market is offered for sale at reasonable prices, and secondly, to see that the millers sell barley meal at a price proportionate to that of barley, and that the bakers sell their loaves at a price proportionate to that of wheat, and of such weight as the commissioners may appoint; for the law requires them to fix the standard weight. there are ten superintendents of the mart, elected by lot, whose duty is to superintend the mart, and to compel merchants to bring up into the city two-thirds of the corn which is brought by sea to the corn mart. part the eleven also are appointed by lot to take care of the prisoners in the state gaol. thieves, kidnappers, and pickpockets are brought to them, and if they plead guilty they are executed, but if they deny the charge the eleven bring the case before the law-courts; if the prisoners are acquitted, they release them, but if not, they then execute them. they also bring up before the law-courts the list of farms and houses claimed as state-property; and if it is decided that they are so, they deliver them to the commissioners for public contracts. the eleven also bring up informations laid against magistrates alleged to be disqualified; this function comes within their province, but some such cases are brought up by the thesmothetae. there are also five introducers of cases (eisagogeis), elected by lot, one for each pair of tribes, who bring up the 'monthly' cases to the law-courts. 'monthly' cases are these: refusal to pay up a dowry where a party is bound to do so, refusal to pay interest on money borrowed at per cent., or where a man desirous of setting up business in the market has borrowed from another man capital to start with; also cases of slander, cases arising out of friendly loans or partnerships, and cases concerned with slaves, cattle, and the office of trierarch, or with banks. these are brought up as 'monthly' cases and are introduced by these officers; but the receivers-general perform the same function in cases for or against the farmers of taxes. those in which the sum concerned is not more than ten drachmas they can decide summarily, but all above that amount they bring into the law-courts as 'monthly' cases. part the forty are also elected by lot, four from each tribe, before whom suitors bring all other cases. formerly they were thirty in number, and they went on circuit through the demes to hear causes; but after the oligarchy of the thirty they were increased to forty. they have full powers to decide cases in which the amount at issue does not exceed ten drachmas, but anything beyond that value they hand over to the arbitrators. the arbitrators take up the case, and, if they cannot bring the parties to an agreement, they give a decision. if their decision satisfies both parties, and they abide by it, the case is at an end; but if either of the parties appeals to the law-courts, the arbitrators enclose the evidence, the pleadings, and the laws quoted in the case in two urns, those of the plaintiff in the one, and those of the defendant in the other. these they seal up and, having attached to them the decision of the arbitrator, written out on a tablet, place them in the custody of the four justices whose function it is to introduce cases on behalf of the tribe of the defendant. these officers take them and bring up the case before the law-court, to a jury of two hundred and one members in cases up to the value of a thousand drachmas, or to one of four hundred and one in cases above that value. no laws or pleadings or evidence may be used except those which were adduced before the arbitrator, and have been enclosed in the urns. the arbitrators are persons in the sixtieth year of their age; this appears from the schedule of the archons and the eponymi. there are two classes of eponymi, the ten who give their names to the tribes, and the forty-two of the years of service. the youths, on being enrolled among the citizens, were formerly registered upon whitened tablets, and the names were appended of the archon in whose year they were enrolled, and of the eponymus who had been in course in the preceding year; at the present day they are written on a bronze pillar, which stands in front of the council-chamber, near the eponymi of the tribes. then the forty take the last of the eponymi of the years of service, and assign the arbitrations to the persons belonging to that year, casting lots to determine which arbitrations each shall undertake; and every one is compelled to carry through the arbitrations which the lot assigns to him. the law enacts that any one who does not serve as arbitrator when he has arrived at the necessary age shall lose his civil rights, unless he happens to be holding some other office during that year, or to be out of the country. these are the only persons who escape the duty. any one who suffers injustice at the hands of the arbitrator may appeal to the whole board of arbitrators, and if they find the magistrate guilty, the law enacts that he shall lose his civil rights. the persons thus condemned have, however, in their turn an appeal. the eponymi are also used in reference to military expeditions; when the men of military age are despatched on service, a notice is put up stating that the men from such-and-such an archon and eponymus to such-and-such another archon and eponymus are to go on the expedition. part the following magistrates also are elected by lot: five commissioners of roads (hodopoei), who, with an assigned body of public slaves, are required to keep the roads in order: and ten auditors, with ten assistants, to whom all persons who have held any office must give in their accounts. these are the only officers who audit the accounts of those who are subject to examination, and who bring them up for examination before the law-courts. if they detect any magistrate in embezzlement, the jury condemn him for theft, and he is obliged to repay tenfold the sum he is declared to have misappropriated. if they charge a magistrate with accepting bribes and the jury convict him, they fine him for corruption, and this sum too is repaid tenfold. or if they convict him of unfair dealing, he is fined on that charge, and the sum assessed is paid without increase, if payment is made before the ninth prytany, but otherwise it is doubled. a tenfold fine is not doubled. the clerk of the prytany, as he is called, is also elected by lot. he has the charge of all public documents, and keeps the resolutions which are passed by the assembly, and checks the transcripts of all other official papers and attends at the sessions of the council. formerly he was elected by open vote, and the most distinguished and trustworthy persons were elected to the post, as is known from the fact that the name of this officer is appended on the pillars recording treaties of alliance and grants of consulship and citizenship. now, however, he is elected by lot. there is, in addition, a clerk of the laws, elected by lot, who attends at the sessions of the council; and he too checks the transcript of all the laws. the assembly also elects by open vote a clerk to read documents to it and to the council; but he has no other duty except that of reading aloud. the assembly also elects by lot the commissioners of public worship (hieropoei) known as the commissioners for sacrifices, who offer the sacrifices appointed by oracle, and, in conjunction with the seers, take the auspices whenever there is occasion. it also elects by lot ten others, known as annual commissioners, who offer certain sacrifices and administer all the quadrennial festivals except the panathenaea. there are the following quadrennial festivals: first that of delos (where there is also a sexennial festival), secondly the brauronia, thirdly the heracleia, fourthly the eleusinia, and fifthly the panathenaea; and no two of these are celebrated in the same place. to these the hephaestia has now been added, in the archonship of cephisophon. an archon is also elected by lot for salamis, and a demarch for piraeus. these officers celebrate the dionysia in these two places, and appoint choregi. in salamis, moreover, the name of the archon is publicly recorded. part all the foregoing magistrates are elected by lot, and their powers are those which have been stated. to pass on to the nine archons, as they are called, the manner of their appointment from the earliest times has been described already. at the present day six thesmothetae are elected by lot, together with their clerk, and in addition to these an archon, a king, and a polemarch. one is elected from each tribe. they are examined first of all by the council of five hundred, with the exception of the clerk. the latter is examined only in the lawcourt, like other magistrates (for all magistrates, whether elected by lot or by open vote, are examined before entering on their offices); but the nine archons are examined both in the council and again in the law-court. formerly no one could hold the office if the council rejected him, but now there is an appeal to the law-court, which is the final authority in the matter of the examination. when they are examined, they are asked, first, 'who is your father, and of what deme? who is your father's father? who is your mother? who is your mother's father, and of what deme?' then the candidate is asked whether he possesses an ancestral apollo and a household zeus, and where their sanctuaries are; next if he possesses a family tomb, and where; then if he treats his parents well, and pays his taxes, and has served on the required military expeditions. when the examiner has put these questions, he proceeds, 'call the witnesses to these facts'; and when the candidate has produced his witnesses, he next asks, 'does any one wish to make any accusation against this man?' if an accuser appears, he gives the parties an opportunity of making their accusation and defence, and then puts it to the council to pass the candidate or not, and to the law-court to give the final vote. if no one wishes to make an accusation, he proceeds at once to the vote. formerly a single individual gave the vote, but now all the members are obliged to vote on the candidates, so that if any unprincipled candidate has managed to get rid of his accusers, it may still be possible for him to be disqualified before the law-court. when the examination has been thus completed, they proceed to the stone on which are the pieces of the victims, and on which the arbitrators take oath before declaring their decisions, and witnesses swear to their testimony. on this stone the archons stand, and swear to execute their office uprightly and according to the laws, and not to receive presents in respect of the performance of their duties, or, if they do, to dedicate a golden statue. when they have taken this oath they proceed to the acropolis, and there they repeat it; after this they enter upon their office. part the archon, the king, and the polemarch have each two assessors, nominated by themselves. these officers are examined in the lawcourt before they begin to act, and give in accounts on each occasion of their acting. as soon as the archon enters office, he begins by issuing a proclamation that whatever any one possessed before he entered into office, that he shall possess and hold until the end of his term. next he assigns choregi to the tragic poets, choosing three of the richest persons out of the whole body of athenians. formerly he used also to assign five choregi to the comic poets, but now the tribes provide the choregi for them. then he receives the choregi who have been appointed by the tribes for the men's and boys' choruses and the comic poets at the dionysia, and for the men's and boys' choruses at the thargelia (at the dionysia there is a chorus for each tribe, but at the thargelia one between two tribes, each tribe bearing its share in providing it); he transacts the exchanges of properties for them, and reports any excuses that are tendered, if any one says that he has already borne this burden, or that he is exempt because he has borne a similar burden and the period of his exemption has not yet expired, or that he is not of the required age; since the choregus of a boys' chorus must be over forty years of age. he also appoints choregi for the festival at delos, and a chief of the mission for the thirty-oar boat which conveys the youths thither. he also superintends sacred processions, both that in honour of asclepius, when the initiated keep house, and that of the great dionysia--the latter in conjunction with the superintendents of that festival. these officers, ten in number, were formerly elected by open vote in the assembly, and used to provide for the expenses of the procession out of their private means; but now one is elected by lot from each tribe, and the state contributes a hundred minas for the expenses. the archon also superintends the procession at the thargelia, and that in honour of zeus the saviour. he also manages the contests at the dionysia and the thargelia. these, then, are the festivals which he superintends. the suits and indictments which come before him, and which he, after a preliminary inquiry, brings up before the lawcourts, are as follows. injury to parents (for bringing these actions the prosecutor cannot suffer any penalty); injury to orphans (these actions lie against their guardians); injury to a ward of state (these lie against their guardians or their husbands), injury to an orphan's estate (these too lie against the guardians); mental derangement, where a party charges another with destroying his own property through unsoundness of mind; for appointment of liquidators, where a party refuses to divide property in which others have a share; for constituting a wardship; for determining between rival claims to a wardship; for granting inspection of property to which another party lays claim; for appointing oneself as guardian; and for determining disputes as to inheritances and wards of state. the archon also has the care of orphans and wards of state, and of women who, on the death of their husbands, declare themselves to be with child; and he has power to inflict a fine on those who offend against the persons under his charge, or to bring the case before the law-courts. he also leases the houses of orphans and wards of state until they reach the age of fourteen, and takes mortgages on them; and if the guardians fail to provide the necessary food for the children under their charge, he exacts it from them. such are the duties of the archon. part the king in the first place superintends the mysteries, in conjunction with the superintendents of mysteries. the latter are elected in the assembly by open vote, two from the general body of athenians, one from the eumolpidae, and one from the ceryces. next, he superintends the lenaean dionysia, which consists of a procession and a contest. the procession is ordered by the king and the superintendents in conjunction; but the contest is managed by the king alone. he also manages all the contests of the torch-race; and to speak broadly, he administers all the ancestral sacrifices. indictments for impiety come before him, or any disputes between parties concerning priestly rites; and he also determines all controversies concerning sacred rites for the ancient families and the priests. all actions for homicide come before him, and it is he that makes the proclamation requiring polluted persons to keep away from sacred ceremonies. actions for homicide and wounding are heard, if the homicide or wounding be willful, in the areopagus; so also in cases of killing by poison, and of arson. these are the only cases heard by that council. cases of unintentional homicide, or of intent to kill, or of killing a slave or a resident alien or a foreigner, are heard by the court of palladium. when the homicide is acknowledged, but legal justification is pleaded, as when a man takes an adulterer in the act, or kills another by mistake in battle, or in an athletic contest, the prisoner is tried in the court of delphinium. if a man who is in banishment for a homicide which admits of reconciliation incurs a further charge of killing or wounding, he is tried in phreatto, and he makes his defence from a boat moored near the shore. all these cases, except those which are heard in the areopagus, are tried by the ephetae on whom the lot falls. the king introduces them, and the hearing is held within sacred precincts and in the open air. whenever the king hears a case he takes off his crown. the person who is charged with homicide is at all other times excluded from the temples, nor is it even lawful for him to enter the market-place; but on the occasion of his trial he enters the temple and makes his defence. if the actual offender is unknown, the writ runs against 'the doer of the deed'. the king and the tribe-kings also hear the cases in which the guilt rests on inanimate objects and the lower animal. part the polemarch performs the sacrifices to artemis the huntress and to enyalius, and arranges the contest at the funeral of those who have fallen in war, and makes offerings to the memory of harmodius and aristogeiton. only private actions come before him, namely those in which resident aliens, both ordinary and privileged, and agents of foreign states are concerned. it is his duty to receive these cases and divide them into ten groups, and assign to each tribe the group which comes to it by lot; after which the magistrates who introduce cases for the tribe hand them over to the arbitrators. the polemarch, however, brings up in person cases in which an alien is charged with deserting his patron or neglecting to provide himself with one, and also of inheritances and wards of state where aliens are concerned; and in fact, generally, whatever the archon does for citizens, the polemarch does for aliens. part the thesmothetae in the first place have the power of prescribing on what days the lawcourts are to sit, and next of assigning them to the several magistrates; for the latter must follow the arrangement which the thesmothetae assign. moreover they introduce impeachments before the assembly, and bring up all votes for removal from office, challenges of a magistrate's conduct before the assembly, indictments for illegal proposals, or for proposing a law which is contrary to the interests of the state, complaints against proedri or their president for their conduct in office, and the accounts presented by the generals. all indictments also come before them in which a deposit has to be made by the prosecutor, namely, indictments for concealment of foreign origin, for corrupt evasion of foreign origin (when a man escapes the disqualification by bribery), for blackmailing accusations, bribery, false entry of another as a state debtor, false testimony to the service of a summons, conspiracy to enter a man as a state debtor, corrupt removal from the list of debtors, and adultery. they also bring up the examinations of all magistrates, and the rejections by the demes and the condemnations by the council. moreover they bring up certain private suits in cases of merchandise and mines, or where a slave has slandered a free man. it is they also who cast lots to assign the courts to the various magistrates, whether for private or public cases. they ratify commercial treaties, and bring up the cases which arise out of such treaties; and they also bring up cases of perjury from the areopagus. the casting of lots for the jurors is conducted by all the nine archons, with the clerk to the thesmothetae as the tenth, each performing the duty for his own tribe. such are the duties of the nine archons. part there are also ten commissioners of games (athlothetae), elected by lot, one from each tribe. these officers, after passing an examination, serve for four years; and they manage the panathenaic procession, the contest in music and that in gymnastic, and the horse-race; they also provide the robe of athena and, in conjunction with the council, the vases, and they present the oil to the athletes. this oil is collected from the sacred olives. the archon requisitions it from the owners of the farms on which the sacred olives grow, at the rate of three-quarters of a pint from each plant. formerly the state used to sell the fruit itself, and if any one dug up or broke down one of the sacred olives, he was tried by the council of areopagus, and if he was condemned, the penalty was death. since, however, the oil has been paid by the owner of the farm, the procedure has lapsed, though the law remains; and the oil is a state charge upon the property instead of being taken from the individual plants. when, then, the archon has collected the oil for his year of office, he hands it over to the treasurers to preserve in the acropolis, and he may not take his seat in the areopagus until he has paid over to the treasurers the full amount. the treasurers keep it in the acropolis until the panathenaea, when they measure it out to the commissioners of games, and they again to the victorious competitors. the prizes for the victors in the musical contest consist of silver and gold, for the victors in manly vigour, of shields, and for the victors in the gymnastic contest and the horse-race, of oil. part all officers connected with military service are elected by open vote. in the first place, ten generals (strategi), who were formerly elected one from each tribe, but now are chosen from the whole mass of citizens. their duties are assigned to them by open vote; one is appointed to command the heavy infantry, and leads them if they go out to war; one to the defence of the country, who remains on the defensive, and fights if there is war within the borders of the country; two to piraeus, one of whom is assigned to munichia, and one to the south shore, and these have charge of the defence of the piraeus; and one to superintend the symmories, who nominates the trierarchs arranges exchanges of properties for them, and brings up actions to decide on rival claims in connexion with them. the rest are dispatched to whatever business may be on hand at the moment. the appointment of these officers is submitted for confirmation in each prytany, when the question is put whether they are considered to be doing their duty. if any officer is rejected on this vote, he is tried in the lawcourt, and if he is found guilty the people decide what punishment or fine shall be inflicted on him; but if he is acquitted he resumes his office. the generals have full power, when on active service, to arrest any one for insubordination, or to cashier him publicly, or to inflict a fine; the latter is, however, unusual. there are also ten taxiarchs, one from each tribe, elected by open vote; and each commands his own tribesmen and appoints captains of companies (lochagi). there are also two hipparchs, elected by open vote from the whole mass of the citizens, who command the cavalry, each taking five tribes. they have the same powers as the generals have in respect of the infantry, and their appointments are also subject to confirmation. there are also ten phylarchs, elected by open vote, one from each tribe, to command the cavalry, as the taxiarchs do the infantry. there is also a hipparch for lemnos, elected by open vote, who has charge of the cavalry in lemnos. there is also a treasurer of the paralus, and another of the ammonias, similarly elected. part of the magistrates elected by lot, in former times some including the nine archons, were elected out of the tribe as a whole, while others, namely those who are now elected in the theseum, were apportioned among the demes; but since the demes used to sell the elections, these magistrates too are now elected from the whole tribe, except the members of the council and the guards of the dockyards, who are still left to the demes. pay is received for the following services. first the members of the assembly receive a drachma for the ordinary meetings, and nine obols for the 'sovereign' meeting. then the jurors at the law-courts receive three obols; and the members of the council five obols. the prytanes receive an allowance of an obol for their maintenance. the nine archons receive four obols apiece for maintenance, and also keep a herald and a flute-player; and the archon for salamis receives a drachma a day. the commissioners for games dine in the prytaneum during the month of hecatombaeon in which the panathenaic festival takes place, from the fourteenth day onwards. the amphictyonic deputies to delos receive a drachma a day from the exchequer of delos. also all magistrates sent to samos, scyros, lemnos, or imbros receive an allowance for their maintenance. the military offices may be held any number of times, but none of the others more than once, except the membership of the council, which may be held twice. part the juries for the law-courts are chosen by lot by the nine archons, each for their own tribe, and by the clerk to the thesmothetae for the tenth. there are ten entrances into the courts, one for each tribe; twenty rooms in which the lots are drawn, two for each tribe; a hundred chests, ten for each tribe; other chests, in which are placed the tickets of the jurors on whom the lot falls; and two vases. further, staves, equal in number to the jurors required, are placed by the side of each entrance; and counters are put into one vase, equal in number to the staves. these are inscribed with letters of the alphabet beginning with the eleventh (lambda), equal in number to the courts which require to be filled. all persons above thirty years of age are qualified to serve as jurors, provided they are not debtors to the state and have not lost their civil rights. if any unqualified person serves as juror, an information is laid against him, and he is brought before the court; and, if he is convicted, the jurors assess the punishment or fine which they consider him to deserve. if he is condemned to a money fine, he must be imprisoned until he has paid up both the original debt, on account of which the information was laid against him, and also the fine which the court as imposed upon him. each juror has his ticket of boxwood, on which is inscribed his name, with the name of his father and his deme, and one of the letters of the alphabet up to kappa; for the jurors in their several tribes are divided into ten sections, with approximately an equal number in each letter. when the thesmothetes has decided by lot which letters are required to attend at the courts, the servant puts up above each court the letter which has been assigned to it by the lot. part the ten chests above mentioned are placed in front of the entrance used by each tribe, and are inscribed with the letters of the alphabet from alpha to kappa. the jurors cast in their tickets, each into the chest on which is inscribed the letter which is on his ticket; then the servant shakes them all up, and the archon draws one ticket from each chest. the individual so selected is called the ticket-hanger (empectes), and his function is to hang up the tickets out of his chest on the bar which bears the same letter as that on the chest. he is chosen by lot, lest, if the ticket-hanger were always the same person, he might tamper with the results. there are five of these bars in each of the rooms assigned for the lot-drawing. then the archon casts in the dice and thereby chooses the jurors from each tribe, room by room. the dice are made of brass, coloured black or white; and according to the number of jurors required, so many white dice are put in, one for each five tickets, while the remainder are black, in the same proportion. as the archon draws out the dice, the crier calls out the names of the individuals chosen. the ticket-hanger is included among those selected. each juror, as he is chosen and answers to his name, draws a counter from the vase, and holding it out with the letter uppermost shows it first to the presiding archon; and he, when he has seen it, throws the ticket of the juror into the chest on which is inscribed the letter which is on the counter, so that the juror must go into the court assigned to him by lot, and not into one chosen by himself, and that it may be impossible for any one to collect the jurors of his choice into any particular court. for this purpose chests are placed near the archon, as many in number as there are courts to be filled that day, bearing the letters of the courts on which the lot has fallen. part the juror thereupon, after showing his counter again to the attendant, passes through the barrier into the court. the attendant gives him a staff of the same colour as the court bearing the letter which is on his counter, so as to ensure his going into the court assigned to him by lot; since, if he were to go into any other, he would be betrayed by the colour of his staff. each court has a certain colour painted on the lintel of the entrance. accordingly the juror, bearing his staff, enters the court which has the same colour as his staff, and the same letter as his counter. as he enters, he receives a voucher from the official to whom this duty has been assigned by lot. so with their counters and their staves the selected jurors take their seats in the court, having thus completed the process of admission. the unsuccessful candidates receive back their tickets from the ticket-hangers. the public servants carry the chests from each tribe, one to each court, containing the names of the members of the tribe who are in that court, and hand them over to the officials assigned to the duty of giving back their tickets to the jurors in each court, so that these officials may call them up by name and pay them their fee. part when all the courts are full, two ballot boxes are placed in the first court, and a number of brazen dice, bearing the colours of the several courts, and other dice inscribed with the names of the presiding magistrates. then two of the thesmothetae, selected by lot, severally throw the dice with the colours into one box, and those with the magistrates' names into the other. the magistrate whose name is first drawn is thereupon proclaimed by the crier as assigned for duty in the court which is first drawn, and the second in the second, and similarly with the rest. the object of this procedure is that no one may know which court he will have, but that each may take the court assigned to him by lot. when the jurors have come in, and have been assigned to their respective courts, the presiding magistrate in each court draws one ticket out of each chest (making ten in all, one out of each tribe), and throws them into another empty chest. he then draws out five of them, and assigns one to the superintendence of the water-clock, and the other four to the telling of the votes. this is to prevent any tampering beforehand with either the superintendent of the clock or the tellers of the votes, and to secure that there is no malpractice in these respects. the five who have not been selected for these duties receive from them a statement of the order in which the jurors shall receive their fees, and of the places where the several tribes shall respectively gather in the court for this purpose when their duties are completed; the object being that the jurors may be broken up into small groups for the reception of their pay, and not all crowd together and impede one another. part these preliminaries being concluded, the cases are called on. if it is a day for private cases, the private litigants are called. four cases are taken in each of the categories defined in the law, and the litigants swear to confine their speeches to the point at issue. if it is a day for public causes, the public litigants are called, and only one case is tried. water-clocks are provided, having small supply-tubes, into which the water is poured by which the length of the pleadings is regulated. ten gallons are allowed for a case in which an amount of more than five thousand drachmas is involved, and three for the second speech on each side. when the amount is between one and five thousand drachmas, seven gallons are allowed for the first speech and two for the second; when it is less than one thousand, five and two. six gallons are allowed for arbitrations between rival claimants, in which there is no second speech. the official chosen by lot to superintend the water-clock places his hand on the supply tube whenever the clerk is about to read a resolution or law or affidavit or treaty. when, however, a case is conducted according to a set measurement of the day, he does not stop the supply, but each party receives an equal allowance of water. the standard of measurement is the length of the days in the month poseideon. the measured day is employed in cases when imprisonment, death, exile, loss of civil rights, or confiscation of goods is assigned as the penalty. part most of the courts consist of members; and when it is necessary to bring public cases before a jury of , members, two courts combine for the purpose, the most important cases of all are brought , jurors, or three courts. the ballot balls are made of brass with stems running through the centre, half of them having the stem pierced and the other half solid. when the speeches are concluded, the officials assigned to the taking of the votes give each juror two ballot balls, one pierced and one solid. this is done in full view of the rival litigants, to secure that no one shall receive two pierced or two solid balls. then the official designated for the purpose takes away the jurors' staves, in return for which each one as he records his vote receives a brass voucher marked with the numeral (because he gets three obols when he gives it up). this is to ensure that all shall vote; since no one can get a voucher unless he votes. two urns, one of brass and the other of wood, stand in the court, in distinct spots so that no one may surreptitiously insert ballot balls; in these the jurors record their votes. the brazen urn is for effective votes, the wooden for unused votes; and the brazen urn has a lid pierced so as to take only one ballot ball, in order that no one may put in two at a time. when the jurors are about to vote, the crier demands first whether the litigants enter a protest against any of the evidence; for no protest can be received after the voting has begun. then he proclaims again, 'the pierced ballot for the plaintiff, the solid for the defendant'; and the juror, taking his two ballot balls from the stand, with his hand closed over the stem so as not to show either the pierced or the solid ballot to the litigants, casts the one which is to count into the brazen urn, and the other into the wooden urn. part when all the jurors have voted, the attendants take the urn containing the effective votes and discharge them on to a reckoning board having as many cavities as there are ballot balls, so that the effective votes, whether pierced or solid, may be plainly displayed and easily counted. then the officials assigned to the taking of the votes tell them off on the board, the solid in one place and the pierced in another, and the crier announces the numbers of the votes, the pierced ballots being for the prosecutor and the solid for the defendant. whichever has the majority is victorious; but if the votes are equal the verdict is for the defendant. each juror receives two ballots, and uses one to record his vote, and throws the other away. then, if damages have to be awarded, they vote again in the same way, first returning their pay-vouchers and receiving back their staves. half a gallon of water is allowed to each party for the discussion of the damages. finally, when all has been completed in accordance with the law, the jurors receive their pay in the order assigned by the lot. the end works by sir rabindranath tagore +gitanjali (song offerings).+ with introduction by w. b. yeats and portrait. cr. vo. s. d. net. +fruit-gathering. (a sequel to "gitanjali.")+ cr. vo. s. d. net. +the crescent moon. child-poems.+ with illustrations in colour. pott to. s. d. net. +the gardener. poems.+ with portrait. cr. vo. s. d. net. +stray birds. poems.+ with frontispiece by willy pogÁny. cr. vo. s. d. net. +lover's gift and crossing.+ cr. vo. s. net. +chitra. a play.+ ex. cr. vo. s. d. net. +the king of the dark chamber. a play.+ cr. vo. s. d. net. +the post office. a play.+ cr. vo. s. d. net. +the cycle of spring. a play.+ cr. vo. s. d. net. +sacrifice and other plays.+ cr. vo. s. net. +hungry stones and other stories.+ translated by various writers. cr. vo. s. net. +mashi and other stories.+ cr. vo. s. net. +personality: lectures delivered in america.+ illustrated. ex. cr. vo. s. net. +my reminiscences.+ illustrated. ex. cr. vo. s. d. net. +sadhana: the realisation of life. lectures.+ ex. cr. vo. s. net. +nationalism.+ ex. cr. vo. s. d. net. london: macmillan and co., ltd. nationalism [illustration: logo] macmillan and co., limited london · bombay · calcutta · madras melbourne the macmillan company new york · boston · chicago dallas · san francisco the macmillan co. of canada, ltd. toronto nationalism by sir rabindranath tagore macmillan and co., limited st. martin's street, london copyright _first edition _ _reprinted (twice)_ contents page nationalism in the west nationalism in japan nationalism in india the sunset of the century nationalism in the west man's history is being shaped according to the difficulties it encounters. these have offered us problems and claimed their solutions from us, the penalty of non-fulfilment being death or degradation. these difficulties have been different in different peoples of the earth, and in the manner of our overcoming them lies our distinction. the scythians of the earlier period of asiatic history had to struggle with the scarcity of their natural resources. the easiest solution that they could think of was to organize their whole population, men, women, and children, into bands of robbers. and they were irresistible to those who were chiefly engaged in the constructive work of social co-operation. but fortunately for man the easiest path is not his truest path. if his nature were not as complex as it is, if it were as simple as that of a pack of hungry wolves, then, by this time, those hordes of marauders would have overrun the whole earth. but man, when confronted with difficulties, has to acknowledge that he is man, that he has his responsibilities to the higher faculties of his nature, by ignoring which he may achieve success that is immediate, perhaps, but that will become a death-trap to him. for what are obstacles to the lower creatures are opportunities to the higher life of man. to india has been given her problem from the beginning of history--it is the race problem. races ethnologically different have in this country come into close contact. this fact has been and still continues to be the most important one in our history. it is our mission to face it and prove our humanity by dealing with it in the fullest truth. until we fulfil our mission all other benefits will be denied us. there are other peoples in the world who have to overcome obstacles in their physical surroundings, or the menace of their powerful neighbours. they have organized their power till they are not only reasonably free from the tyranny of nature and human neighbours, but have a surplus of it left in their hands to employ against others. but in india, our difficulties being internal, our history has been the history of continual social adjustment and not that of organized power for defence and aggression. neither the colourless vagueness of cosmopolitanism, nor the fierce self-idolatry of nation-worship, is the goal of human history. and india has been trying to accomplish her task through social regulation of differences, on the one hand, and the spiritual recognition of unity on the other. she has made grave errors in setting up the boundary walls too rigidly between races, in perpetuating in her classifications the results of inferiority; often she has crippled her children's minds and narrowed their lives in order to fit them into her social forms; but for centuries new experiments have been made and adjustments carried out. her mission has been like that of a hostess who has to provide proper accommodation for numerous guests, whose habits and requirements are different from one another. this gives rise to infinite complexities whose solution depends not merely upon tactfulness but upon sympathy and true realization of the unity of man. towards this realization have worked, from the early time of the upanishads up to the present moment, a series of great spiritual teachers, whose one object has been to set at naught all differences of man by the overflow of our consciousness of god. in fact, our history has not been of the rise and fall of kingdoms, of fights for political supremacy. in our country records of these days have been despised and forgotten, for they in no way represent the true history of our people. our history is that of our social life and attainment of spiritual ideals. but we feel that our task is not yet done. the world-flood has swept over our country, new elements have been introduced, and wider adjustments are waiting to be made. we feel this all the more, because the teaching and example of the west have entirely run counter to what we think was given to india to accomplish. in the west the national machinery of commerce and politics turns out neatly compressed bales of humanity which have their use and high market value; but they are bound in iron hoops, labelled and separated off with scientific care and precision. obviously god made man to be human; but this modern product has such marvellous square-cut finish, savouring of gigantic manufacture, that the creator will find it difficult to recognize it as a thing of spirit and a creature made in his own divine image. but i am anticipating. what i was about to say is this. take it in whatever spirit you like, here is india, of about fifty centuries at least, who tried to live peacefully and think deeply, the india devoid of all politics, the india of no nations, whose one ambition has been to know this world as of soul, to live here every moment of her life in the meek spirit of adoration, in the glad consciousness of an eternal and personal relationship with it. it was upon this remote portion of humanity, childlike in its manner, with the wisdom of the old, that the nation of the west burst in. through all the fights and intrigues and deceptions of her earlier history india had remained aloof. because her homes, her fields, her temples of worship, her schools, where her teachers and students lived together in the atmosphere of simplicity and devotion and learning, her village self-government with its simple laws and peaceful administration--all these truly belonged to her. but her thrones were not her concern. they passed over her head like clouds, now tinged with purple gorgeousness, now black with the threat of thunder. often they brought devastations in their wake, but they were like catastrophes of nature whose traces are soon forgotten. but this time it was different. it was not a mere drift over her surface of life,--drift of cavalry and foot soldiers, richly caparisoned elephants, white tents and canopies, strings of patient camels bearing the loads of royalty, bands of kettle-drums and flutes, marble domes of mosques, palaces and tombs, like the bubbles of the foaming wine of extravagance; stories of treachery and loyal devotion, of changes of fortune, of dramatic surprises of fate. this time it was the nation of the west driving its tentacles of machinery deep down into the soil. therefore i say to you, it is we who are called as witnesses to give evidence as to what our nation has been to humanity. we had known the hordes of moghals and pathans who invaded india, but we had known them as human races, with their own religions and customs, likes and dislikes,--we had never known them as a nation. we loved and hated them as occasions arose; we fought for them and against them, talked with them in a language which was theirs as well as our own, and guided the destiny of the empire in which we had our active share. but this time we had to deal, not with kings, not with human races, but with a nation--we, who are no nation ourselves. now let us from our own experience answer the question, what is this nation? a nation, in the sense of the political and economic union of a people, is that aspect which a whole population assumes when organized for a mechanical purpose. society as such has no ulterior purpose. it is an end in itself. it is a spontaneous self-expression of man as a social being. it is a natural regulation of human relationships, so that men can develop ideals of life in co-operation with one another. it has also a political side, but this is only for a special purpose. it is for self-preservation. it is merely the side of power, not of human ideals. and in the early days it had its separate place in society, restricted to the professionals. but when with the help of science and the perfecting of organization this power begins to grow and brings in harvests of wealth, then it crosses its boundaries with amazing rapidity. for then it goads all its neighbouring societies with greed of material prosperity, and consequent mutual jealousy, and by the fear of each other's growth into powerfulness. the time comes when it can stop no longer, for the competition grows keener, organization grows vaster, and selfishness attains supremacy. trading upon the greed and fear of man, it occupies more and more space in society, and at last becomes its ruling force. it is just possible that you have lost through habit consciousness that the living bonds of society are breaking up, and giving place to merely mechanical organization. but you see signs of it everywhere. it is owing to this that war has been declared between man and woman, because the natural thread is snapping which holds them together in harmony; because man is driven to professionalism, producing wealth for himself and others, continually turning the wheel of power for his own sake or for the sake of the universal officialdom, leaving woman alone to wither and to die or to fight her own battle unaided. and thus there where co-operation is natural has intruded competition. the very psychology of men and women about their mutual relation is changing and becoming the psychology of the primitive fighting elements, rather than of humanity seeking its completeness through the union based upon mutual self-surrender. for the elements which have lost their living bond of reality have lost the meaning of their existence. like gaseous particles forced into a too narrow space, they come in continual conflict with each other till they burst the very arrangement which holds them in bondage. then look at those who call themselves anarchists, who resent the imposition of power, in any form whatever, upon the individual. the only reason for this is that power has become too abstract--it is a scientific product made in the political laboratory of the nation, through the dissolution of personal humanity. and what is the meaning of these strikes in the economic world, which like the prickly shrubs in a barren soil shoot up with renewed vigour each time they are cut down? what, but that the wealth-producing mechanism is incessantly growing into vast stature, out of proportion to all other needs of society,--and the full reality of man is more and more crushed under its weight? this state of things inevitably gives rise to eternal feuds among the elements freed from the wholeness and wholesomeness of human ideals, and interminable economic war is waged between capital and labour. for greed of wealth and power can never have a limit, and compromise of self-interest can never attain the final spirit of reconciliation. they must go on breeding jealousy and suspicion to the end--the end which only comes through some sudden catastrophe or a spiritual re-birth. when this organization of politics and commerce, whose other name is the nation, becomes all-powerful at the cost of the harmony of the higher social life, then it is an evil day for humanity. when a father becomes a gambler and his obligations to his family take the secondary place in his mind, then he is no longer a man, but an automaton led by the power of greed. then he can do things which, in his normal state of mind, he would be ashamed to do. it is the same thing with society. when it allows itself to be turned into a perfect organization of power, then there are few crimes which it is unable to perpetrate. because success is the object and justification of a machine, while goodness only is the end and purpose of man. when this engine of organization begins to attain a vast size, and those who are mechanics are made into parts of the machine, then the personal man is eliminated to a phantom, everything becomes a revolution of policy carried out by the human parts of the machine, with no twinge of pity or moral responsibility. it may happen that even through this apparatus the moral nature of man tries to assert itself, but the whole series of ropes and pullies creak and cry, the forces of the human heart become entangled among the forces of the human automaton, and only with difficulty can the moral purpose transmit itself into some tortured shape of result. this abstract being, the nation, is ruling india. we have seen in our country some brand of tinned food advertised as entirely made and packed without being touched by hand. this description applies to the governing of india, which is as little touched by the human hand as possible. the governors need not know our language, need not come into personal touch with us except as officials; they can aid or hinder our aspirations from a disdainful distance, they can lead us on a certain path of policy and then pull us back again with the manipulation of office red tape; the newspapers of england, in whose columns london street accidents are recorded with some decency of pathos, need but take the scantiest notice of calamities which happen in india over areas of land sometimes larger than the british isles. but we, who are governed, are not a mere abstraction. we, on our side, are individuals with living sensibilities. what comes to us in the shape of a mere bloodless policy may pierce into the very core of our life, may threaten the whole future of our people with a perpetual helplessness of emasculation, and yet may never touch the chord of humanity on the other side, or touch it in the most inadequately feeble manner. such wholesale and universal acts of fearful responsibility man can never perform, with such a degree of systematic unawareness, where he is an individual human being. these only become possible, where the man is represented by an octopus of abstractions, sending out its wriggling arms in all directions of space, and fixing its innumerable suckers even into the far-away future. in this reign of the nation, the governed are pursued by suspicions; and these are the suspicions of a tremendous mass of organized brain and muscle. punishments are meted out, which leave a trail of miseries across a large bleeding tract of the human heart; but these punishments are dealt by a mere abstract force, in which a whole population of a distant country has lost its human personality. i have not come here, however, to discuss the question as it affects my own country, but as it affects the future of all humanity. it is not a question of the british government, but of government by the nation--the nation which is the organized self-interest of a whole people, where it is least human and least spiritual. our only intimate experience of the nation is with the british nation, and as far as the government by the nation goes there are reasons to believe that it is one of the best. then, again, we have to consider that the west is necessary to the east. we are complementary to each other because of our different outlooks upon life which have given us different aspects of truth. therefore if it be true that the spirit of the west has come upon our fields in the guise of a storm it is nevertheless scattering living seeds that are immortal. and when in india we become able to assimilate in our life what is permanent in western civilization we shall be in the position to bring about a reconciliation of these two great worlds. then will come to an end the one-sided dominance which is galling. what is more, we have to recognize that the history of india does not belong to one particular race but to a process of creation to which various races of the world contributed--the dravidians and the aryans, the ancient greeks and the persians, the mohammedans of the west and those of central asia. now at last has come the turn of the english to become true to this history and bring to it the tribute of their life, and we neither have the right nor the power to exclude this people from the building of the destiny of india. therefore what i say about the nation has more to do with the history of man than specially with that of india. this history has come to a stage when the moral man, the complete man, is more and more giving way, almost without knowing it, to make room for the political and the commercial man, the man of the limited purpose. this process, aided by the wonderful progress in science, is assuming gigantic proportion and power, causing the upset of man's moral balance, obscuring his human side under the shadow of soul-less organization. we have felt its iron grip at the root of our life, and for the sake of humanity we must stand up and give warning to all, that this nationalism is a cruel epidemic of evil that is sweeping over the human world of the present age, and eating into its moral vitality. i have a deep love and a great respect for the british race as human beings. it has produced great-hearted men, thinkers of great thoughts, doers of great deeds. it has given rise to a great literature. i know that these people love justice and freedom, and hate lies. they are clean in their minds, frank in their manners, true in their friendships; in their behaviour they are honest and reliable. the personal experience which i have had of their literary men has roused my admiration not merely for their power of thought or expression but for their chivalrous humanity. we have felt the greatness of this people as we feel the sun; but as for the nation, it is for us a thick mist of a stifling nature covering the sun itself. this government by the nation is neither british nor anything else; it is an applied science and therefore more or less similar in its principles wherever it is used. it is like a hydraulic press, whose pressure is impersonal, and on that account completely effective. the amount of its power may vary in different engines. some may even be driven by hand, thus leaving a margin of comfortable looseness in their tension, but in spirit and in method their differences are small. our government might have been dutch, or french, or portuguese, and its essential features would have remained much the same as they are now. only perhaps, in some cases, the organization might not have been so densely perfect, and, therefore, some shreds of the human might still have been clinging to the wreck, allowing us to deal with something which resembles our own throbbing heart. before the nation came to rule over us we had other governments which were foreign, and these, like all governments, had some element of the machine in them. but the difference between them and the government by the nation is like the difference between the hand-loom and the power-loom. in the products of the hand-loom the magic of man's living fingers finds its expression, and its hum harmonizes with the music of life. but the power-loom is relentlessly lifeless and accurate and monotonous in its production. we must admit that during the personal government of the former days there have been instances of tyranny, injustice and extortion. they caused sufferings and unrest from which we are glad to be rescued. the protection of law is not only a boon, but it is a valuable lesson to us. it is teaching us the discipline which is necessary for the stability of civilization and for continuity of progress. we are realizing through it that there is a universal standard of justice to which all men, irrespective of their caste and colour, have their equal claim. this reign of law in our present government in india has established order in this vast land inhabited by peoples different in their races and customs. it has made it possible for these peoples to come in closer touch with one another and cultivate a communion of aspiration. but this desire for a common bond of comradeship among the different races of india has been the work of the spirit of the west, not that of the nation of the west. wherever in asia the people have received the true lesson of the west it is in spite of the western nation. only because japan had been able to resist the dominance of this western nation could she acquire the benefit of the western civilization in fullest measure. though china has been poisoned at the very spring of her moral and physical life by this nation, her struggle to receive the best lessons of the west may yet be successful if not hindered by the nation. it was only the other day that persia woke up from her age-long sleep at the call of the west to be instantly trampled into stillness by the nation. the same phenomenon prevails in this country also, where the people are hospitable, but the nation has proved itself to be otherwise, making an eastern guest feel humiliated to stand before you as a member of the humanity of his own motherland. in india we are suffering from this conflict between the spirit of the west and the nation of the west. the benefit of the western civilization is doled out to us in a miserly measure by the nation, which tries to regulate the degree of nutrition as near the zero-point of vitality as possible. the portion of education allotted to us is so raggedly insufficient that it ought to outrage the sense of decency of a western humanity. we have seen in these countries how the people are encouraged and trained and given every facility to fit themselves for the great movements of commerce and industry spreading over the world, while in india the only assistance we get is merely to be jeered at by the nation for lagging behind. while depriving us of our opportunities and reducing our education to the minimum required for conducting a foreign government, this nation pacifies its conscience by calling us names, by sedulously giving currency to the arrogant cynicism that the east is east and the west is west and never the twain shall meet. if we must believe our schoolmaster in his taunt that, after nearly two centuries of his tutelage, india not only remains unfit for self-government but unable to display originality in her intellectual attainments, must we ascribe it to something in the nature of western culture and our inherent incapacity to receive it or to the judicious niggardliness of the nation that has taken upon itself the white man's burden of civilizing the east? that japanese people have some qualities which we lack we may admit, but that our intellect is naturally unproductive compared to theirs we cannot accept even from them whom it is dangerous for us to contradict. the truth is that the spirit of conflict and conquest is at the origin and in the centre of western nationalism; its basis is not social co-operation. it has evolved a perfect organization of power, but not spiritual idealism. it is like the pack of predatory creatures that must have its victims. with all its heart it cannot bear to see its hunting-grounds converted into cultivated fields. in fact, these nations are fighting among themselves for the extension of their victims and their reserve forests. therefore the western nation acts like a dam to check the free flow of western civilization into the country of the no-nation. because this civilization is the civilization of power, therefore it is exclusive, it is naturally unwilling to open its sources of power to those whom it has selected for its purposes of exploitation. but all the same moral law is the law of humanity, and the exclusive civilization which thrives upon others who are barred from its benefit carries its own death-sentence in its moral limitations. the slavery that it gives rise to unconsciously drains its own love of freedom dry. the helplessness with which it weighs down its world of victims exerts its force of gravitation every moment upon the power that creates it. and the greater part of the world which is being denuded of its self-sustaining life by the nation will one day become the most terrible of all its burdens, ready to drag it down into the bottom of destruction. whenever power removes all checks from its path to make its career easy, it triumphantly rides into its ultimate crash of death. its moral brake becomes slacker every day without its knowing it, and its slippery path of ease becomes its path of doom. of all things in western civilization, those which this western nation has given us in a most generous measure are law and order. while the small feeding-bottle of our education is nearly dry, and sanitation sucks its own thumb in despair, the military organization, the magisterial offices, the police, the criminal investigation department, the secret spy system, attain to an abnormal girth in their waists, occupying every inch of our country. this is to maintain order. but is not this order merely a negative good? is it not for giving people's life greater opportunities for the freedom of development? its perfection is the perfection of an egg-shell, whose true value lies in the security it affords to the chick and its nourishment and not in the convenience it offers to the person at the breakfast table. mere administration is unproductive, it is not creative, not being a living thing. it is a steam-roller, formidable in its weight and power, having its uses, but it does not help the soil to become fertile. when after its enormous toil it comes to offer us its boon of peace we can but murmur under our breath that "peace is good, but not more so than life, which is god's own great boon." on the other hand, our former governments were woefully lacking in many of the advantages of the modern government. but because those were not the governments by the nation, their texture was loosely woven, leaving big gaps through which our own life sent its threads and imposed its designs. i am quite sure in those days we had things that were extremely distasteful to us. but we know that when we walk barefooted upon ground strewn with gravel, our feet come gradually to adjust themselves to the caprices of the inhospitable earth; while if the tiniest particle of gravel finds its lodgment inside our shoes we can never forget and forgive its intrusion. and these shoes are the government by the nation,--it is tight, it regulates our steps with a closed-up system, within which our feet have only the slightest liberty to make their own adjustments. therefore, when you produce your statistics to compare the number of gravels which our feet had to encounter in former days with the paucity in the present régime, they hardly touch the real points. it is not a question of the number of outside obstacles but the comparative powerlessness of the individual to cope with them. this narrowness of freedom is an evil which is more radical, not because of its quantity but because of its nature. and we cannot but acknowledge this paradox, that while the spirit of the west marches under its banner of freedom, the nation of the west forges its iron chains of organization which are the most relentless and unbreakable that have ever been manufactured in the whole history of man. when the humanity of india was not under the government of the organization, the elasticity of change was great enough to encourage men of power and spirit to feel that they had their destinies in their own hands. the hope of the unexpected was never absent, and a freer play of imagination, on the part both of the governor and the governed, had its effect in the making of history. we were not confronted with a future, which was a dead white wall of granite blocks eternally guarding against the expression and extension of our own powers, the hopelessness of which lies in the reason that these powers are becoming atrophied at their very roots by the scientific process of paralysis. for every single individual in the country of the no-nation is completely in the grip of a whole nation,--whose tireless vigilance, being the vigilance of a machine, has not the human power to overlook or to discriminate. at the least pressing of its button the monster organization becomes all eyes, whose ugly stare of inquisitiveness cannot be avoided by a single person amongst the immense multitude of the ruled. at the least turn of its screw, by the fraction of an inch, the grip is tightened to the point of suffocation around every man, woman and child of a vast population, for whom no escape is imaginable in their own country, or even in any country outside their own. it is the continual and stupendous dead pressure of this inhuman upon the living human under which the modern world is groaning. not merely the subject races, but you who live under the delusion that you are free, are every day sacrificing your freedom and humanity to this fetich of nationalism, living in the dense poisonous atmosphere of world-wide suspicion and greed and panic. i have seen in japan the voluntary submission of the whole people to the trimming of their minds and clipping of their freedom by their government, which through various educational agencies regulates their thoughts, manufactures their feelings, becomes suspiciously watchful when they show signs of inclining toward the spiritual, leading them through a narrow path not toward what is true but what is necessary for the complete welding of them into one uniform mass according to its own recipe. the people accept this all-pervading mental slavery with cheerfulness and pride because of their nervous desire to turn themselves into a machine of power, called the nation, and emulate other machines in their collective worldliness. when questioned as to the wisdom of its course the newly converted fanatic of nationalism answers that "so long as nations are rampant in this world we have not the option freely to develop our higher humanity. we must utilize every faculty that we possess to resist the evil by assuming it ourselves in the fullest degree. for the only brotherhood possible in the modern world is the brotherhood of hooliganism." the recognition of the fraternal bond of love between japan and russia, which has lately been celebrated with an immense display of rejoicing in japan, was not owing to any sudden recrudescence of the spirit of christianity or of buddhism, but it was a bond established according to the modern faith in a surer relationship of mutual menace of bloodshedding. yes, one cannot but acknowledge that these facts are the facts of the world of the nation, and the only moral of it is that all the peoples of the earth should strain their physical, moral and intellectual resources to the utmost to defeat one another in the wrestling match of powerfulness. in the ancient days sparta paid all her attention to becoming powerful; she did become so by crippling her humanity, and died of the amputation. but it is no consolation to us to know that the weakening of humanity from which the present age is suffering is not limited to the subject races, and that its ravages are even more radical because insidious and voluntary in peoples who are hypnotized into believing that they are free. this bartering of your higher aspirations of life for profit and power has been your own free choice, and i leave you there, at the wreckage of your soul, contemplating your protuberant prosperity. but will you never be called to answer for organizing the instincts of self-aggrandizement of whole peoples into perfection and calling it good? i ask you what disaster has there ever been in the history of man, in its darkest period, like this terrible disaster of the nation fixing its fangs deep into the naked flesh of the world, taking permanent precautions against its natural relaxation? you, the people of the west, who have manufactured this abnormality, can you imagine the desolating despair of this haunted world of suffering man possessed by the ghastly abstraction of the organizing man? can you put yourself into the position of the peoples, who seem to have been doomed to an eternal damnation of their own humanity, who not only must suffer continual curtailment of their manhood, but even raise their voices in pæans of praise for the benignity of a mechanical apparatus in its interminable parody of providence? have you not seen, since the commencement of the existence of the nation, that the dread of it has been the one goblin-dread with which the whole world has been trembling? wherever there is a dark corner, there is the suspicion of its secret malevolence; and people live in a perpetual distrust of its back where it has no eyes. every sound of a footstep, every rustle of movement in the neighbourhood, sends a thrill of terror all around. and this terror is the parent of all that is base in man's nature. it makes one almost openly unashamed of inhumanity. clever lies become matters of self-congratulation. solemn pledges become a farce,--laughable for their very solemnity. the nation, with all its paraphernalia of power and prosperity, its flags and pious hymns, its blasphemous prayers in the churches, and the literary mock thunders of its patriotic bragging, cannot hide the fact that the nation is the greatest evil for the nation, that all its precautions are against it, and any new birth of its fellow in the world is always followed in its mind by the dread of a new peril. its one wish is to trade on the feebleness of the rest of the world, like some insects that are bred in the paralysed flesh of victims kept just enough alive to make them toothsome and nutritious. therefore it is ready to send its poisonous fluid into the vitals of the other living peoples, who, not being nations, are harmless. for this the nation has had and still has its richest pasture in asia. great china, rich with her ancient wisdom and social ethics, her discipline of industry and self-control, is like a whale awakening the lust of spoil in the heart of the nation. she is already carrying in her quivering flesh harpoons sent by the unerring aim of the nation, the creature of science and selfishness. her pitiful attempt to shake off her traditions of humanity, her social ideals, and spend her last exhausted resources in drilling herself into modern efficiency, is thwarted at every step by the nation. it is tightening its financial ropes round her, trying to drag her up on the shore and cut her into pieces, and then go and offer public thanksgiving to god for supporting the one existing evil and shattering the possibility of a new one. and for all this the nation has been claiming the gratitude of history, and all eternity for its exploitation; ordering its band of praise to be struck up from end to end of the world, declaring itself to be the salt of the earth, the flower of humanity, the blessing of god hurled with all his force upon the naked skulls of the world of no-nations. i know what your advice will be. you will say, form yourselves into a nation, and resist this encroachment of the nation. but is this the true advice? that of a man to a man? why should this be a necessity? i could well believe you if you had said, be more good, more just, more true in your relation to man, control your greed, make your life wholesome in its simplicity and let your consciousness of the divine in humanity be more perfect in its expression. but must you say that it is not the soul, but the machine, which is of the utmost value to ourselves, and that man's salvation depends upon his disciplining himself into a perfection of the dead rhythm of wheels and counterwheels? that machine must be pitted against machine, and nation against nation, in an endless bull-fight of politics? you say, these machines will come into an agreement, for their mutual protection, based upon a conspiracy of fear. but will this federation of steam-boilers supply you with a soul, a soul which has her conscience and her god? what is to happen to that larger part of the world where fear will have no hand in restraining you? whatever safety they now enjoy, those countries of no-nation, from the unbridled license of forge and hammer and turn-screw, results from the mutual jealousy of the powers. but when, instead of being numerous separate machines, they become riveted into one organized gregariousness of gluttony, commercial and political, what remotest chance of hope will remain for those others, who have lived and suffered, have loved and worshipped, have thought deeply and worked with meekness, but whose only crime has been that they have not organized? but, you say, "that does not matter, the unfit must go to the wall--they shall _die_, and this is science." no, for the sake of your own salvation, i say, they shall _live_, and this is truth. it is extremely bold of me to say so, but i assert that man's world is a moral world, not because we blindly agree to believe it, but because it is so in truth which would be dangerous for us to ignore. and this moral nature of man cannot be divided into convenient compartments for its preservation. you cannot secure it for your home consumption with protective tariff walls, while in foreign parts making it enormously accommodating in its free trade of license. has not this truth already come home to you now, when this cruel war has driven its claws into the vitals of europe? when her hoard of wealth is bursting into smoke and her humanity is shattered into bits on her battlefields? you ask in amazement what has she done to deserve this? the answer is, that the west has been systematically petrifying her moral nature in order to lay a solid foundation for her gigantic abstractions of efficiency. she has all along been starving the life of the personal man into that of the professional. in your mediæval age in europe, the simple and the natural man, with all his violent passions and desires, was engaged in trying to find out a reconciliation in the conflict between the flesh and the spirit. all through the turbulent career of her vigorous youth the temporal and the spiritual forces both acted strongly upon her nature, and were moulding it into completeness of moral personality. europe owes all her greatness in humanity to that period of discipline,--the discipline of the man in his human integrity. then came the age of intellect, of science. we all know that intellect is impersonal. our life, and our heart, are one with us, but our mind can be detached from the personal man and then only can it freely move in its world of thoughts. our intellect is an ascetic who wears no clothes, takes no food, knows no sleep, has no wishes, feels no love or hatred or pity for human limitations, who only reasons, unmoved, through the vicissitudes of life. it burrows to the roots of things, because it has no personal concern with the thing itself. the grammarian walks straight through all poetry and goes to the root of words without obstruction, because he is not seeking reality, but law. when he finds the law, he is able to teach people how to master words. this is a power,--the power which fulfils some special usefulness, some particular need of man. reality is the harmony which gives to the component parts of a thing the equilibrium of the whole. you break it, and have in your hands the nomadic atoms fighting against one another, therefore unmeaning. those who covet power try to get mastery of these aboriginal fighting elements, and through some narrow channels force them into some violent service for some particular needs of man. this satisfaction of man's needs is a great thing. it gives him freedom in the material world. it confers on him the benefit of a greater range of time and space. he can do things in a shorter time and occupies a larger space with more thoroughness of advantage. therefore he can easily outstrip those who live in a world of a slower time and of space less fully occupied. this progress of power attains more and more rapidity of pace. and, for the reason that it is a detached part of man, it soon outruns the complete humanity. the moral man remains behind, because it has to deal with the whole reality, not merely with the law of things, which is impersonal and therefore abstract. thus, man with his mental and material power far outgrowing his moral strength, is like an exaggerated giraffe whose head has suddenly shot up miles away from the rest of him, making normal communication difficult to establish. this greedy head, with its huge dental organization, has been munching all the topmost foliage of the world, but the nourishment is too late in reaching his digestive organs, and his heart is suffering from want of blood. of this present disharmony in man's nature the west seems to have been blissfully unconscious. the enormity of its material success has diverted all its attention toward self-congratulation on its bulk. the optimism of its logic goes on basing the calculations of its good fortune upon the indefinite prolongation of its railway lines toward eternity. it is superficial enough to think that all to-morrows are merely to-days, with the repeated additions of twenty-four hours. it has no fear of the chasm, which is opening wider every day, between man's ever-growing storehouses and the emptiness of his hungry humanity. logic does not know that, under the lowest bed of endless strata of wealth and comforts, earthquakes are being hatched to restore the balance of the moral world, and one day the gaping gulf of spiritual vacuity will draw into its bottom the store of things that have their eternal love for the dust. man in his fulness is not powerful, but perfect. therefore, to turn him into mere power, you have to curtail his soul as much as possible. when we are fully human, we cannot fly at one another's throats; our instincts of social life, our traditions of moral ideals stand in the way. if you want me to take to butchering human beings, you must break up that wholeness of my humanity through some discipline which makes my will dead, my thoughts numb, my movements automatic, and then from the dissolution of the complex personal man will come out that abstraction, that destructive force, which has no relation to human truth, and therefore can be easily brutal or mechanical. take away man from his natural surroundings, from the fulness of his communal life, with all its living associations of beauty and love and social obligations, and you will be able to turn him into so many fragments of a machine for the production of wealth on a gigantic scale. turn a tree into a log and it will burn for you, but it will never bear living flowers and fruit. this process of dehumanizing has been going on in commerce and politics. and out of the long birth-throes of mechanical energy has been born this fully developed apparatus of magnificent power and surprising appetite which has been christened in the west as the nation. as i have hinted before, because of its quality of abstraction it has, with the greatest ease, gone far ahead of the complete moral man. and having the conscience of a ghost and the callous perfection of an automaton, it is causing disasters of which the volcanic dissipations of the youthful moon would be ashamed to be brought into comparison. as a result, the suspicion of man for man stings all the limbs of this civilization like the hairs of the nettle. each country is casting its net of espionage into the slimy bottom of the others, fishing for their secrets, the treacherous secrets which brew in the oozy depths of diplomacy. and what is their secret service but the nation's underground trade in kidnapping, murder and treachery and all the ugly crimes bred in the depth of rottenness? because each nation has its own history of thieving and lies and broken faith, therefore there can only flourish international suspicion and jealousy, and international moral shame becomes anæmic to a degree of ludicrousness. the nation's bagpipe of righteous indignation has so often changed its tune according to the variation of time and to the altered groupings of the alliances of diplomacy, that it can be enjoyed with amusement as the variety performance of the political music hall. i am just coming from my visit to japan, where i exhorted this young nation to take its stand upon the higher ideals of humanity and never to follow the west in its acceptance of the organized selfishness of nationalism as its religion, never to gloat upon the feebleness of its neighbours, never to be unscrupulous in its behaviour to the weak, where it can be gloriously mean with impunity, while turning its right cheek of brighter humanity for the kiss of admiration to those who have the power to deal it a blow. some of the newspapers praised my utterances for their poetical qualities, while adding with a leer that it was the poetry of a defeated people. i felt they were right. japan had been taught in a modern school the lesson how to become powerful. the schooling is done and she must enjoy the fruits of her lessons. the west in the voice of her thundering cannon had said at the door of japan, let there be a nation--and there was a nation. and now that it _has_ come into existence, why do you not feel in your heart of hearts a pure feeling of gladness and say that it is good? why is it that i saw in an english paper an expression of bitterness at japan's boasting of her superiority of civilization--the thing that the british, along with other nations, has been carrying on for ages without blushing? because the idealism of selfishness must keep itself drunk with a continual dose of self-laudation. but the same vices which seem so natural and innocuous in its own life make it surprised and angry at their unpleasantness when seen in other nations. therefore, when you see the japanese nation, created in your own image, launched in its career of national boastfulness you shake your head and say, it is not good. has it not been one of the causes that raise the cry on these shores for preparedness to meet one more power of evil with a greater power of injury? japan protests that she has her _bushido_, that she can never be treacherous to america, to whom she owes her gratitude. but you find it difficult to believe her,--for the wisdom of the nation is not in its faith in humanity but in its complete distrust. you say to yourself that it is not with japan of the _bushido_, the japan of the moral ideals, that you have to deal--it is with the abstraction of the popular selfishness, it is with the nation; and nation can only trust nation where their interests coalesce, or at least do not conflict. in fact your instinct tells you that the advent of another people into the arena of nationality makes another addition to the evil which contradicts all that is highest in man and proves by its success that unscrupulousness is the way to prosperity,--and goodness is good for the weak and god is the only remaining consolation of the defeated. yes, this is the logic of the nation. and it will never heed the voice of truth and goodness. it will go on in its ring-dance of moral corruption, linking steel unto steel, and machine unto machine; trampling under its tread all the sweet flowers of simple faith and the living ideals of man. but we delude ourselves into thinking that humanity in the modern days is more to the front than ever before. the reason of this self-delusion is because man is served with the necessaries of life in greater profusion, and his physical ills are being alleviated with more efficacy. but the chief part of this is done, not by moral sacrifice, but by intellectual power. in quantity it is great, but it springs from the surface and spreads over the surface. knowledge and efficiency are powerful in their outward effect, but they are the servants of man, not the man himself. their service is like the service in a hotel, where it is elaborate, but the host is absent; it is more convenient than hospitable. therefore we must not forget that the scientific organizations vastly spreading in all directions are strengthening our power, but not our humanity. with the growth of power the cult of the self-worship of the nation grows in ascendancy; and the individual willingly allows the nation to take donkey-rides upon his back; and there happens the anomaly which must have such disastrous effects, that the individual worships with all sacrifices a god which is morally much inferior to himself. this could never have been possible if the god had been as real as the individual. let me give an illustration of this in point. in some parts of india it has been enjoined as an act of great piety for a widow to go without food and water on a particular day every fortnight. this often leads to cruelty, unmeaning and inhuman. and yet men are not by nature cruel to such a degree. but this piety being a mere unreal abstraction completely deadens the moral sense of the individual, just as the man, who would not hurt an animal unnecessarily, would cause horrible suffering to a large number of innocent creatures when he drugs his feelings with the abstract idea of "sport." because these ideas are the creations of our intellect, because they are logical classifications, therefore they can so easily hide in their mist the personal man. and the idea of the nation is one of the most powerful anæsthetics that man has invented. under the influence of its fumes the whole people can carry out its systematic programme of the most virulent self-seeking without being in the least aware of its moral perversion,--in fact feeling dangerously resentful if it is pointed out. but can this go on indefinitely? continually producing barrenness of moral insensibility upon a large tract of our living nature? can it escape its nemesis for ever? has this giant power of mechanical organization no limit in this world against which it may shatter itself all the more completely because of its terrible strength and velocity? do you believe that evil can be permanently kept in check by competition with evil, and that conference of prudence can keep the devil chained in its makeshift cage of mutual agreement? this european war of nations is the war of retribution. man, the person, must protest for his very life against the heaping up of things where there should be the heart, and systems and policies where there should flow living human relationship. the time has come when, for the sake of the whole outraged world, europe should fully know in her own person the terrible absurdity of the thing called the nation. the nation has thriven long upon mutilated humanity. men, the fairest creations of god, came out of the national manufactory in huge numbers as war-making and money-making puppets, ludicrously vain of their pitiful perfection of mechanism. human society grew more and more into a marionette show of politicians, soldiers, manufacturers and bureaucrats, pulled by wire arrangements of wonderful efficiency. but the apotheosis of selfishness can never make its interminable breed of hatred and greed, fear and hypocrisy, suspicion and tyranny, an end in themselves. these monsters grow into huge shapes but never into harmony. and this nation may grow on to an unimaginable corpulence, not of a living body, but of steel and steam and office buildings, till its deformity can contain no longer its ugly voluminousness,--till it begins to crack and gape, breathe gas and fire in gasps, and its death-rattles sound in cannon roars. in this war the death-throes of the nation have commenced. suddenly, all its mechanism going mad, it has begun the dance of the furies, shattering its own limbs, scattering them into the dust. it is the fifth act of the tragedy of the unreal. those who have any faith in man cannot but fervently hope that the tyranny of the nation will not be restored to all its former teeth and claws, to its far-reaching iron arms and its immense inner cavity, all stomach and no heart; that man will have his new birth, in the freedom of his individuality, from the enveloping vagueness of abstraction. the veil has been raised, and in this frightful war the west has stood face to face with her own creation, to which she had offered her soul. she must know what it truly is. she had never let herself suspect what slow decay and decomposition were secretly going on in her moral nature, which often broke out in doctrines of scepticism, but still oftener and in still more dangerously subtle manner showed itself in her unconsciousness of the mutilation and insult that she had been inflicting upon a vast part of the world. now she must know the truth nearer home. and then there will come from her own children those who will break themselves free from the slavery of this illusion, this perversion of brotherhood founded upon self-seeking, those who will own themselves as god's children and as no bond-slaves of machinery, which turns souls into commodities and life into compartments, which, with its iron claws, scratches out the heart of the world and knows not what it has done. and we of no nations of the world, whose heads have been bowed to the dust, will know that this dust is more sacred than the bricks which build the pride of power. for this dust is fertile of life, and of beauty and worship. we shall thank god that we were made to wait in silence through the night of despair, had to bear the insult of the proud and the strong man's burden, yet all through it, though our hearts quaked with doubt and fear, never could we blindly believe in the salvation which machinery offered to man, but we held fast to our trust in god and the truth of the human soul. and we can still cherish the hope that, when power becomes ashamed to occupy its throne and is ready to make way for love, when the morning comes for cleansing the blood-stained steps of the nation along the highroad of humanity, we shall be called upon to bring our own vessel of sacred water--the water of worship--to sweeten the history of man into purity, and with its sprinkling make the trampled dust of the centuries blessed with fruitfulness. nationalism in japan i the worst form of bondage is the bondage of dejection, which keeps men hopelessly chained in loss of faith in themselves. we have been repeatedly told, with some justification, that asia lives in the past,--it is like a rich mausoleum which displays all its magnificence in trying to immortalize the dead. it was said of asia that it could never move in the path of progress, its face was so inevitably turned backwards. we accepted this accusation, and came to believe it. in india, i know, a large section of our educated community, grown tired of feeling the humiliation of this charge against us, is trying all its resources of self-deception to turn it into a matter of boasting. but boasting is only a masked shame, it does not truly believe in itself. when things stood still like this, and we in asia hypnotized ourselves into the belief that it could never by any possibility be otherwise, japan rose from her dreams, and in giant strides left centuries of inaction behind, overtaking the present time in its foremost achievement. this has broken the spell under which we lay in torpor for ages, taking it to be the normal condition of certain races living in certain geographical limits. we forgot that in asia great kingdoms were founded, philosophy, science, arts and literatures flourished, and all the great religions of the world had their cradles. therefore it cannot be said that there is anything inherent in the soil and climate of asia to produce mental inactivity and to atrophy the faculties which impel men to go forward. for centuries we did hold torches of civilization in the east when the west slumbered in darkness, and that could never be the sign of sluggish mind or narrowness of vision. then fell the darkness of night upon all the lands of the east. the current of time seemed to stop at once, and asia ceased to take any new food, feeding upon its own past, which is really feeding upon itself. the stillness seemed like death, and the great voice was silenced which sent forth messages of eternal truth that have saved man's life from pollution for generations, like the ocean of air that keeps the earth sweet, ever cleansing its impurities. but life has its sleep, its periods of inactivity, when it loses its movements, takes no new food, living upon its past storage. then it grows helpless, its muscles relaxed, and it easily lends itself to be jeered at for its stupor. in the rhythm of life, pauses there must be for the renewal of life. life in its activity is ever spending itself, burning all its fuel. this extravagance cannot go on indefinitely, but is always followed by a passive stage, when all expenditure is stopped and all adventures abandoned in favour of rest and slow recuperation. the tendency of mind is economical, it loves to form habits and move in grooves which save it the trouble of thinking anew at each of its steps. ideals once formed make the mind lazy. it becomes afraid to risk its acquisitions in fresh endeavours. it tries to enjoy complete security by shutting up its belongings behind fortifications of habits. but this is really shutting oneself up from the fullest enjoyment of one's own possessions. it is miserliness. the living ideals must not lose their touch with the growing and changing life. their real freedom is not within the boundaries of security, but in the highroad of adventures, full of the risk of new experiences. one morning the whole world looked up in surprise when japan broke through her walls of old habits in a night and came out triumphant. it was done in such an incredibly short time that it seemed like a change of dress and not like the building up of a new structure. she showed the confident strength of maturity, and the freshness and infinite potentiality of new life at the same moment. the fear was entertained that it was a mere freak of history, a child's game of time, the blowing up of a soap-bubble, perfect in its rondure and colouring, hollow in its heart and without substance. but japan has proved conclusively that this sudden revealment of her power is not a short-lived wonder, a chance product of time and tide, thrown up from the depth of obscurity to be swept away the next moment into the sea of oblivion. the truth is that japan is old and new at the same time. she has her legacy of ancient culture from the east,--the culture that enjoins man to look for his true wealth and power in his inner soul, the culture that gives self-possession in the face of loss and danger, self-sacrifice without counting the cost or hoping for gain, defiance of death, acceptance of countless social obligations that we owe to men as social beings. in a word, modern japan has come out of the immemorial east like a lotus blossoming in easy grace, all the while keeping its firm hold upon the profound depth from which it has sprung. and japan, the child of the ancient east, has also fearlessly claimed all the gifts of the modern age for herself. she has shown her bold spirit in breaking through the confinements of habits, useless accumulations of the lazy mind, which seeks safety in its thrift and its locks and keys. thus she has come in contact with the living time and has accepted with eagerness and aptitude the responsibilities of modern civilization. this it is which has given heart to the rest of asia. we have seen that the life and the strength are there in us, only the dead crust has to be removed. we have seen that taking shelter in the dead is death itself, and only taking all the risk of life to the fullest extent is living. i, for myself, cannot believe that japan has become what she is by imitating the west. we cannot imitate life, we cannot simulate strength for long, nay, what is more, a mere imitation is a source of weakness. for it hampers our true nature, it is always in our way. it is like dressing our skeleton with another man's skin, giving rise to eternal feuds between the skin and the bones at every movement. the real truth is that science is not man's nature, it is mere knowledge and training. by knowing the laws of the material universe you do not change your deeper humanity. you can borrow knowledge from others, but you cannot borrow temperament. but at the imitative stage of our schooling we cannot distinguish between the essential and the non-essential, between what is transferable and what is not. it is something like the faith of the primitive mind in the magical properties of the accidents of outward forms which accompany some real truth. we are afraid of leaving out something valuable and efficacious by not swallowing the husk with the kernel. but while our greed delights in wholesale appropriation, it is the function of our vital nature to assimilate, which is the only true appropriation for a living organism. where there is life it is sure to assert itself by its choice of acceptance and refusal according to its constitutional necessity. the living organism does not allow itself to grow into its food, it changes its food into its own body. and only thus can it grow strong and not by mere accumulation, or by giving up its personal identity. japan has imported her food from the west, but not her vital nature. japan cannot altogether lose and merge herself in the scientific paraphernalia she has acquired from the west and be turned into a mere borrowed machine. she has her own soul, which must assert itself over all her requirements. that she is capable of doing so, and that the process of assimilation is going on, have been amply proved by the signs of vigorous health that she exhibits. and i earnestly hope that japan may never lose her faith in her own soul, in the mere pride of her foreign acquisition. for that pride itself is a humiliation, ultimately leading to poverty and weakness. it is the pride of the fop who sets more store on his new headdress than on his head itself. the whole world waits to see what this great eastern nation is going to do with the opportunities and responsibilities she has accepted from the hands of the modern time. if it be a mere reproduction of the west, then the great expectation she has raised will remain unfulfilled. for there are grave questions that the western civilization has presented before the world but not completely answered. the conflict between the individual and the state, labour and capital, the man and the woman; the conflict between the greed of material gain and the spiritual life of man, the organized selfishness of nations and the higher ideals of humanity; the conflict between all the ugly complexities inseparable from giant organizations of commerce and state and the natural instincts of man crying for simplicity and beauty and fulness of leisure,--all these have to be brought to a harmony in a manner not yet dreamt of. we have seen this great stream of civilization choking itself from débris carried by its innumerable channels. we have seen that with all its vaunted love of humanity it has proved itself the greatest menace to man, far worse than the sudden outbursts of nomadic barbarism from which men suffered in the early ages of history. we have seen that, in spite of its boasted love of freedom, it has produced worse forms of slavery than ever were current in earlier societies,--slavery whose chains are unbreakable, either because they are unseen, or because they assume the names and appearance of freedom. we have seen, under the spell of its gigantic sordidness, man losing faith in all the heroic ideals of life which have made him great. therefore you cannot with a light heart accept the modern civilization with all its tendencies, methods and structures, and dream that they are inevitable. you must apply your eastern mind, your spiritual strength, your love of simplicity, your recognition of social obligation, in order to cut out a new path for this great unwieldy car of progress, shrieking out its loud discords as it runs. you must minimize the immense sacrifice of man's life and freedom that it claims in its every movement. for generations you have felt and thought and worked, have enjoyed and worshipped in your own special manner; and this cannot be cast off like old clothes. it is in your blood, in the marrow of your bones, in the texture of your flesh, in the tissue of your brains; and it must modify everything you lay your hands upon, without your knowing, even against your wishes. once you did solve the problems of man to your own satisfaction, you had your philosophy of life and evolved your own art of living. all this you must apply to the present situation, and out of it will arise a new creation and not a mere repetition, a creation which the soul of your people will own for itself and proudly offer to the world as its tribute to the welfare of man. of all countries in asia, here in japan you have the freedom to use the materials you have gathered from the west according to your genius and your need. therefore your responsibility is all the greater, for in your voice asia shall answer the questions that europe has submitted to the conference of man. in your land the experiments will be carried on by which the east will change the aspects of modern civilization, infusing life in it where it is a machine, substituting the human heart for cold expediency, not caring so much for power and success as for harmonious and living growth, for truth and beauty. i cannot but bring to your mind those days when the whole of eastern asia from burma to japan was united with india in the closest tie of friendship, the only natural tie which can exist between nations. there was a living communication of hearts, a nervous system evolved through which messages ran between us about the deepest needs of humanity. we did not stand in fear of each other, we had not to arm ourselves to keep each other in check; our relation was not that of self-interest, of exploration and spoliation of each other's pockets; ideas and ideals were exchanged, gifts of the highest love were offered and taken; no difference of languages and customs hindered us in approaching each other heart to heart; no pride of race or insolent consciousness of superiority, physical or mental, marred our relation; our arts and literatures put forth new leaves and flowers under the influence of this sunlight of united hearts; and races belonging to different lands and languages and histories acknowledged the highest unity of man and the deepest bond of love. may we not also remember that in those days of peace and goodwill, of men uniting for those supreme ends of life, your nature laid by for itself the balm of immortality which has helped your people to be born again in a new age, to be able to survive its old outworn structures and take on a new young body, to come out unscathed from the shock of the most wonderful revolution that the world has ever seen? the political civilization which has sprung up from the soil of europe and is overrunning the whole world, like some prolific weed, is based upon exclusiveness. it is always watchful to keep the aliens at bay or to exterminate them. it is carnivorous and cannibalistic in its tendencies, it feeds upon the resources of other peoples and tries to swallow their whole future. it is always afraid of other races achieving eminence, naming it as a peril, and tries to thwart all symptoms of greatness outside its own boundaries, forcing down races of men who are weaker, to be eternally fixed in their weakness. before this political civilization came to its power and opened its hungry jaws wide enough to gulp down great continents of the earth, we had wars, pillages, changes of monarchy and consequent miseries, but never such a sight of fearful and hopeless voracity, such wholesale feeding of nation upon nation, such huge machines for turning great portions of the earth into mince-meat, never such terrible jealousies with all their ugly teeth and claws ready for tearing open each other's vitals. this political civilization is scientific, not human. it is powerful because it concentrates all its forces upon one purpose, like a millionaire acquiring money at the cost of his soul. it betrays its trust, it weaves its meshes of lies without shame, it enshrines gigantic idols of greed in its temples, taking great pride in the costly ceremonials of its worship, calling this patriotism. and it can be safely prophesied that this cannot go on, for there is a moral law in this world which has its application both to individuals and to organized bodies of men. you cannot go on violating these laws in the name of your nation, yet enjoy their advantage as individuals. this public sapping of ethical ideals slowly reacts upon each member of society, gradually breeding weakness, where it is not seen, and causing that cynical distrust of all things sacred in human nature, which is the true symptom of senility. you must keep in mind that this political civilization, this creed of national patriotism, has not been given a long trial. the lamp of ancient greece is extinct in the land where it was first lighted, the power of rome lies dead and buried under the ruins of its vast empire. but the civilization, whose basis is society and the spiritual ideal of man, is still a living thing in china and in india. though it may look feeble and small, judged by the standard of the mechanical power of modern days, yet like small seeds it still contains life and will sprout and grow, and spread its beneficent branches, producing flowers and fruits when its time comes and showers of grace descend upon it from heaven. but ruins of sky-scrapers of power and broken machinery of greed, even god's rain is powerless to raise up again; for they were not of life, but went against life as a whole,--they are relics of the rebellion that shattered itself to pieces against the eternal. but the charge is brought against us that the ideals we cherish in the east are static, that they have not the impetus in them to move, to open out new vistas of knowledge and power, that the systems of philosophy which are the mainstays of the time-worn civilizations of the east despise all outward proofs, remaining stolidly satisfied in their subjective certainty. this proves that when our knowledge is vague we are apt to accuse of vagueness our object of knowledge itself. to a western observer our civilization appears as all metaphysics, as to a deaf man piano-playing appears to be mere movements of fingers and no music. he cannot think that we have found some deep basis of reality upon which we have built our institutions. unfortunately all proofs of reality are in realization. the reality of the scene before you depends only upon the fact that you can see, and it is difficult for us to prove to an unbeliever that our civilization is not a nebulous system of abstract speculations, that it has achieved something which is a positive truth,--a truth that can give man's heart its shelter and sustenance. it has evolved an inner sense,--a sense of vision, the vision of the infinite reality in all finite things. but he says, "you do not make any progress, there is no movement in you." i ask him, "how do you know it? you have to judge progress according to its aim. a railway train makes its progress towards the terminus station,--it is movement. but a full-grown tree has no definite movement of that kind, its progress is the inward progress of life. it lives, with its aspiration towards light tingling in its leaves and creeping in its silent sap." we also have lived for centuries, we still live, and we have our aspiration for a reality that has no end to its realization,--a reality that goes beyond death, giving it a meaning, that rises above all evils of life, bringing its peace and purity, its cheerful renunciation of self. the product of this inner life is a living product. it will be needed when the youth returns home weary and dust-laden, when the soldier is wounded, when the wealth is squandered away and pride is humbled, when man's heart cries for truth in the immensity of facts and harmony in the contradiction of tendencies. its value is not in its multiplication of materials, but in its spiritual fulfilment. there are things that cannot wait. you have to rush and run and march if you must fight or take the best place in the market. you strain your nerves and are on the alert when you chase opportunities that are always on the wing. but there are ideals which do not play hide-and-seek with our life; they slowly grow from seed to flower, from flower to fruit; they require infinite space and heaven's light to mature, and the fruits that they produce can survive years of insult and neglect. the east with her ideals, in whose bosom are stored the ages of sunlight and silence of stars, can patiently wait till the west, hurrying after the expedient, loses breath and stops. europe, while busily speeding to her engagements, disdainfully casts her glance from her carriage window at the reaper reaping his harvest in the field, and in her intoxication of speed cannot but think him as slow and ever receding backwards. but the speed comes to its end, the engagement loses its meaning and the hungry heart clamours for food, till at last she comes to the lowly reaper reaping his harvest in the sun. for if the office cannot wait, or the buying and selling, or the craving for excitement, love waits and beauty and the wisdom of suffering and the fruits of patient devotion and reverent meekness of simple faith. and thus shall wait the east till her time comes. i must not hesitate to acknowledge where europe is great, for great she is without doubt. we cannot help loving her with all our heart, and paying her the best homage of our admiration,--the europe who, in her literature and art, pours out an inexhaustible cascade of beauty and truth fertilizing all countries and all time; the europe who, with a mind which is titanic in its untiring power, is sweeping the height and the depth of the universe, winning her homage of knowledge from the infinitely great and the infinitely small, applying all the resources of her great intellect and heart in healing the sick and alleviating those miseries of man which up till now we were contented to accept in a spirit of hopeless resignation; the europe who is making the earth yield more fruit than seemed possible, coaxing and compelling the great forces of nature into man's service. such true greatness must have its motive power in spiritual strength. for only the spirit of man can defy all limitations, have faith in its ultimate success, throw its search-light beyond the immediate and the apparent, gladly suffer martyrdom for ends which cannot be achieved in its lifetime and accept failure without acknowledging defeat. in the heart of europe runs the purest stream of human love, of love of justice, of spirit of self-sacrifice for higher ideals. the christian culture of centuries has sunk deep in her life's core. in europe we have seen noble minds who have ever stood up for the rights of man irrespective of colour and creed; who have braved calumny and insult from their own people in fighting for humanity's cause and raising their voices against the mad orgies of militarism, against the rage for brutal retaliation or rapacity that sometimes takes possession of a whole people; who are always ready to make reparation for wrongs done in the past by their own nations and vainly attempt to stem the tide of cowardly injustice that flows unchecked because the resistance is weak and innocuous on the part of the injured. there are these knight-errants of modern europe who have not lost their faith in the disinterested love of freedom, in the ideals which own no geographical boundaries or national self-seeking. these are there to prove that the fountainhead of the water of everlasting life has not run dry in europe, and from thence she will have her rebirth time after time. only there, where europe is too consciously busy in building up her power, defying her deeper nature and mocking it, she is heaping up her iniquities to the sky, crying for god's vengeance and spreading the infection of ugliness, physical and moral, over the face of the earth with her heartless commerce heedlessly outraging man's sense of the beautiful and the good. europe is supremely good in her beneficence where her face is turned to all humanity; and europe is supremely evil in her maleficent aspect where her face is turned only upon her own interest, using all her power of greatness for ends which are against the infinite and the eternal in man. eastern asia has been pursuing its own path, evolving its own civilization, which was not political but social, not predatory and mechanically efficient but spiritual and based upon all the varied and deeper relations of humanity. the solutions of the life problems of peoples were thought out in seclusion and carried out behind the security of aloofness, where all the dynastic changes and foreign invasions hardly touched them. but now we are overtaken by the outside world, our seclusion is lost for ever. yet this we must not regret, as a plant should never regret when the obscurity of its seed-time is broken. now the time has come when we must make the world problem our own problem; we must bring the spirit of our civilization into harmony with the history of all nations of the earth; we must not, in foolish pride, still keep ourselves fast within the shell of the seed and the crust of the earth which protected and nourished our ideals; for these, the shell and the crust, were meant to be broken, so that life may spring up in all its vigour and beauty, bringing its offerings to the world in open light. in this task of breaking the barrier and facing the world japan has come out the first in the east. she has infused hope in the heart of all asia. this hope provides the hidden fire which is needed for all works of creation. asia now feels that she must prove her life by producing living work, she must not lie passively dormant, or feebly imitate the west, in the infatuation of fear or flattery. for this we offer our thanks to this land of the rising sun and solemnly ask her to remember that she has the mission of the east to fulfil. she must infuse the sap of a fuller humanity into the heart of modern civilization. she must never allow it to get choked with the noxious undergrowth, but lead it up towards light and freedom, towards the pure air and broad space, where it can receive, in the dawn of its day and the darkness of its night, heaven's inspiration. let the greatness of her ideals become visible to all men like her snow-crowned fuji rising from the heart of the country into the region of the infinite, supremely distinct from its surroundings, beautiful like a maiden in its magnificent sweep of curve, yet firm and strong and serenely majestic. ii i have travelled in many countries and have met with men of all classes, but never in my travels did i feel the presence of the human so distinctly as in this land. in other great countries signs of man's power loomed large, and i saw vast organizations which showed efficiency in all their features. there, display and extravagance, in dress, in furniture, in costly entertainments, are startling. they seem to push you back into a corner, like a poor intruder at a feast; they are apt to make you envious, or take your breath away with amazement. there, you do not feel man as supreme; you are hurled against a stupendousness of things that alienates. but in japan it is not the display of power, or wealth, that is the predominating element. you see everywhere emblems of love and admiration, and not mostly of ambition and greed. you see a people whose heart has come out and scattered itself in profusion in its commonest utensils of everyday life, in its social institutions, in its manners, which are carefully perfect, and in its dealings with things which are not only deft but graceful in every movement. what has impressed me most in this country is the conviction that you have realized nature's secrets, not by methods of analytical knowledge, but by sympathy. you have known her language of lines, and music of colours, the symmetry in her irregularities, and the cadence in her freedom of movements; you have seen how she leads her immense crowds of things yet avoids all frictions; how the very conflicts in her creations break out in dance and music; how her exuberance has the aspect of the fulness of self-abandonment, and not a mere dissipation of display. you have discovered that nature reserves her power in forms of beauty; and it is this beauty which, like a mother, nourishes all the giant forces at her breast, keeping them in active vigour, yet in repose. you have known that energies of nature save themselves from wearing out by the rhythm of a perfect grace, and that she with the tenderness of her curved lines takes away fatigue from the world's muscles. i have felt that you have been able to assimilate these secrets into your life, and the truth which lies in the beauty of all things has passed into your souls. a mere knowledge of things can be had in a short enough time, but their spirit can only be acquired by centuries of training and self-control. dominating nature from outside is a much simpler thing than making her your own in love's delight, which is a work of true genius. your race has shown that genius, not by acquirement, but by creation; not by display of things, but by manifestation of its own inner being. this creative power there is in all nations, and it is ever active in getting hold of men's natures and giving them a form according to its ideals. but here, in japan, it seems to have achieved its success, and deeply sunk into the minds of all men, and permeated their muscles and nerves. your instincts have become true, your senses keen, and your hands have acquired natural skill. the genius of europe has given her people the power of organization, which has specially made itself manifest in politics and commerce and in co-ordinating scientific knowledge. the genius of japan has given you the vision of beauty in nature and the power of realizing it in your life. all particular civilization is the interpretation of particular human experience. europe seems to have felt emphatically the conflict of things in the universe, which can only be brought under control by conquest. therefore she is ever ready for fight, and the best portion of her attention is occupied in organizing forces. but japan has felt, in her world, the touch of some presence, which has evoked in her soul a feeling of reverent adoration. she does not boast of her mastery of nature, but to her she brings, with infinite care and joy, her offerings of love. her relationship with the world is the deeper relationship of heart. this spiritual bond of love she has established with the hills of her country, with the sea and the streams, with the forests in all their flowery moods and varied physiognomy of branches; she has taken into her heart all the rustling whispers and sighing of the woodlands and sobbing of the waves; the sun and the moon she has studied in all the modulations of their lights and shades, and she is glad to close her shops to greet the seasons in her orchards and gardens and cornfields. this opening of the heart to the soul of the world is not confined to a section of your privileged classes, it is not the forced product of exotic culture, but it belongs to all your men and women of all conditions. this experience of your soul, in meeting a personality in the heart of the world, has been embodied in your civilization. it is a civilization of human relationship. your duty towards your state has naturally assumed the character of filial duty, your nation becoming one family with your emperor as its head. your national unity has not been evolved from the comradeship of arms for defensive and offensive purpose, or from partnership in raiding adventures, dividing among each member the danger and spoils of robbery. it is not an outcome of the necessity of organization for some ulterior purpose, but it is an extension of the family and the obligations of the heart in a wide field of space and time. the ideal of "maitri" is at the bottom of your culture,--"maitri" with men and "maitri" with nature. and the true expression of this love is in the language of beauty, which is so abundantly universal in this land. this is the reason why a stranger, like myself, instead of feeling envy or humiliation before these manifestations of beauty, these creations of love, feels a readiness to participate in the joy and glory of such revealment of the human heart. and this has made me all the more apprehensive of the change which threatens japanese civilization, as something like a menace to one's own person. for the huge heterogeneity of the modern age, whose only common bond is usefulness, is nowhere so pitifully exposed against the dignity and hidden power of reticent beauty as in japan. but the danger lies in this, that organized ugliness storms the mind and carries the day by its mass, by its aggressive persistence, by its power of mockery directed against the deeper sentiments of heart. its harsh obtrusiveness makes it forcibly visible to us, overcoming our senses,--and we bring sacrifices to its altar, as does a savage to the fetich which appears powerful because of its hideousness. therefore its rivalry with things that are modest and profound and have the subtle delicacy of life is to be dreaded. i am quite sure that there are men in your country who are not in sympathy with your inherited ideals; whose object is to gain, and not to grow. they are loud in their boast that they have modernized japan. while i agree with them so far as to say that the spirit of the race should harmonize with the spirit of the time, i must warn them that modernizing is a mere affectation of modernism, just as affectation of poesy is poetizing. it is nothing but mimicry, only affectation is louder than the original, and it is too literal. one must bear in mind that those who have the true modern spirit need not modernize, just as those who are truly brave are not braggarts. modernism is not in the dress of the europeans; or in the hideous structures, where their children are interned when they take their lessons; or in the square houses with flat, straight wall-surfaces, pierced with parallel lines of windows, where these people are caged in their lifetime; certainly modernism is not in their ladies' bonnets, carrying on them loads of incongruities. these are not modern, but merely european. true modernism is freedom of mind, not slavery of taste. it is independence of thought and action, not tutelage under european schoolmasters. it is science, but not its wrong application in life,--a mere imitation of our science teachers who reduce it into a superstition, absurdly invoking its aid for all impossible purposes. life based upon mere science is attractive to some men, because it has all the characteristics of sport; it feigns seriousness, but is not profound. when you go a-hunting, the less pity you have the better; for your one object is to chase the game and kill it, to feel that you are the greater animal, that your method of destruction is thorough and scientific. and the life of science is that superficial life. it pursues success with skill and thoroughness, and takes no account of the higher nature of man. but those whose minds are crude enough to plan their lives upon the supposition that man is merely a hunter and his paradise the paradise of sportsmen will be rudely awakened in the midst of their trophies of skeletons and skulls. i do not for a moment suggest that japan should be unmindful of acquiring modern weapons of self-protection. but this should never be allowed to go beyond her instinct of self-preservation. she must know that the real power is not in the weapons themselves, but in the man who wields those weapons; and when he, in his eagerness for power, multiplies his weapons at the cost of his own soul, then it is he who is in even greater danger than his enemies. things that are living are so easily hurt; therefore they require protection. in nature, life protects itself within its coverings, which are built with life's own material. therefore they are in harmony with life's growth, or else when the time comes they easily give way and are forgotten. the living man has his true protection in his spiritual ideals, which have their vital connection with his life and grow with his growth. but, unfortunately, all his armour is not living,--some of it is made of steel, inert and mechanical. therefore, while making use of it, man has to be careful to protect himself from its tyranny. if he is weak enough to grow smaller to fit himself to his covering, then it becomes a process of gradual suicide by shrinkage of the soul. and japan must have a firm faith in the moral law of existence to be able to assert to herself that the western nations are following that path of suicide, where they are smothering their humanity under the immense weight of organizations in order to keep themselves in power and hold others in subjection. what is dangerous for japan is, not the imitation of the outer features of the west, but the acceptance of the motive force of the western nationalism as her own. her social ideals are already showing signs of defeat at the hands of politics. i can see her motto, taken from science, "survival of the fittest," writ large at the entrance of her present-day history--the motto whose meaning is, "help yourself, and never heed what it costs to others"; the motto of the blind man who only believes in what he can touch, because he cannot see. but those who can see know that men are so closely knit that when you strike others the blow comes back to yourself. the moral law, which is the greatest discovery of man, is the discovery of this wonderful truth, that man becomes all the truer the more he realizes himself in others. this truth has not only a subjective value, but is manifested in every department of our life. and nations who sedulously cultivate moral blindness as the cult of patriotism will end their existence in a sudden and violent death. in past ages we had foreign invasions, but they never touched the soul of the people deeply. they were merely the outcome of individual ambitions. the people themselves, being free from the responsibilities of the baser and more heinous side of those adventures, had all the advantage of the heroic and the human disciplines derived from them. this developed their unflinching loyalty, their single-minded devotion to the obligations of honour, their power of complete self-surrender and fearless acceptance of death and danger. therefore the ideals, whose seats were in the hearts of the people, would not undergo any serious change owing to the policies adopted by the kings or generals. but now, where the spirit of the western nationalism prevails, the whole people is being taught from boyhood to foster hatreds and ambitions by all kinds of means--by the manufacture of half-truths and untruths in history, by persistent misrepresentation of other races and the culture of unfavourable sentiments towards them, by setting up memorials of events, very often false, which for the sake of humanity should be speedily forgotten, thus continually brewing evil menace towards neighbours and nations other than their own. this is poisoning the very fountainhead of humanity. it is discrediting the ideals, which were born of the lives of men who were our greatest and best. it is holding up gigantic selfishness as the one universal religion for all nations of the world. we can take anything else from the hands of science, but not this elixir of moral death. never think for a moment that the hurts you inflict upon other races will not infect you, or that the enmities you sow around your homes will be a wall of protection to you for all time to come. to imbue the minds of a whole people with an abnormal vanity of its own superiority, to teach it to take pride in its moral callousness and ill-begotten wealth, to perpetuate humiliation of defeated nations by exhibiting trophies won from war, and using these in schools in order to breed in children's minds contempt for others, is imitating the west where she has a festering sore, whose swelling is a swelling of disease eating into its vitality. our food crops, which are necessary for our sustenance, are products of centuries of selection and care. but the vegetation, which we have not to transform into our lives, does not require the patient thoughts of generations. it is not easy to get rid of weeds; but it is easy, by process of neglect, to ruin your food crops and let them revert to their primitive state of wildness. likewise the culture, which has so kindly adapted itself to your soil--so intimate with life, so human--not only needed tilling and weeding in past ages, but still needs anxious work and watching. what is merely modern--as science and methods of organization--can be transplanted; but what is vitally human has fibres so delicate, and roots so numerous and far-reaching, that it dies when moved from its soil. therefore i am afraid of the rude pressure of the political ideals of the west upon your own. in political civilization, the state is an abstraction and relationship of men utilitarian. because it has no root in sentiments, it is so dangerously easy to handle. half a century has been enough for you to master this machine; and there are men among you whose fondness for it exceeds their love for the living ideals, which were born with the birth of your nation and nursed in your centuries. it is like a child who, in the excitement of his play, imagines he likes his playthings better than his mother. where man is at his greatest, he is unconscious. your civilization, whose mainspring is the bond of human relationship, has been nourished in the depth of a healthy life beyond reach of prying self-analysis. but a mere political relationship is all-conscious; it is an eruptive inflammation of aggressiveness. it has forcibly burst upon your notice. and the time has come when you have to be roused into full consciousness of the truth by which you live, so that you may not be taken unawares. the past has been god's gift to you; about the present, you must make your own choice. so the questions you have to put to yourselves are these--"have we read the world wrong, and based our relation to it upon an ignorance of human nature? is the instinct of the west right, where she builds her national welfare behind the barricade of a universal distrust of humanity?" you must have detected a strong accent of fear whenever the west has discussed the possibility of the rise of an eastern race. the reason of it is this, that the power by whose help she thrives is an evil power; so long as it is held on her own side she can be safe, while the rest of the world trembles. the vital ambition of the present civilization of europe is to have the exclusive possession of the devil. all her armaments and diplomacy are directed upon this one object. but these costly rituals for invocation of the evil spirit lead through a path of prosperity to the brink of cataclysm. the furies of terror, which the west has let loose upon god's world, come back to threaten herself and goad her into preparations of more and more frightfulness; this gives her no rest, and makes her forget all else but the perils that she causes to others and incurs herself. to the worship of this devil of politics she sacrifices other countries as victims. she feeds upon their dead flesh and grows fat upon it, so long as the carcasses remain fresh,--but they are sure to rot at last, and the dead will take their revenge, by spreading pollution far and wide and poisoning the vitality of the feeder. japan had all her wealth of humanity, her harmony of heroism and beauty, her depth of self-control and richness of self-expression; yet the western nations felt no respect for her till she proved that the bloodhounds of satan are not only bred in the kennels of europe but can also be domesticated in japan and fed with man's miseries. they admit japan's equality with themselves, only when they know that japan also possesses the key to open the floodgate of hell-fire upon the fair earth whenever she chooses, and can dance, in their own measure, the devil dance of pillage, murder and ravishment of innocent women, while the world goes to ruin. we know that, in the early stage of man's moral immaturity, he only feels reverence for the god whose malevolence he dreads. but is this the ideal of man which we can look up to with pride? after centuries of civilization nations fearing each other like the prowling wild beasts of the night-time; shutting their doors of hospitality; combining only for purpose of aggression or defence; hiding in their holes their trade secrets, state secrets, secrets of their armaments; making peace-offerings to each other's barking dogs with the meat which does not belong to them; holding down fallen races which struggle to stand upon their feet; with their right hands dispensing religion to weaker peoples, while robbing them with their left,--is there anything in this to make us envious? are we to bend our knees to the spirit of this nationalism, which is sowing broadcast over all the world seeds of fear, greed, suspicion, unashamed lies of its diplomacy, and unctuous lies of its profession of peace and good-will and universal brotherhood of man? can our minds be free from doubt when we rush to the western market to buy this foreign product in exchange for our own inheritance? i am aware how difficult it is to know one's self; and the man who is intoxicated furiously denies his drunkenness; yet the west herself is anxiously thinking of her problems and trying experiments. but she is like a glutton, who has not the heart to give up his intemperance in eating, and fondly clings to the hope that he can cure his nightmares of indigestion by medicine. europe is not ready to give up her political inhumanity, with all the baser passions of man attendant upon it; she believes only in modification of systems, and not in change of heart. we are willing to buy their machine-made systems, not with our hearts, but with our brains. we shall try them and build sheds for them, but not enshrine them in our homes or temples. there are races who worship the animals they kill; we can buy meat from them when we are hungry, but not the worship which goes with the killing. we must not vitiate our children's minds with the superstition that business is business, war is war, politics is politics. we must know that man's business has to be more than mere business, and so should be his war and politics. you had your own industry in japan; how scrupulously honest and true it was, you can see by its products,--by their grace and strength, their conscientiousness in details, where they can hardly be observed. but the tidal wave of falsehood has swept over your land from that part of the world where business is business, and honesty is followed merely as the best policy. have you never felt shame when you see the trade advertisements, not only plastering the whole town with lies and exaggerations, but invading the green fields, where the peasants do their honest labour, and the hill-tops, which greet the first pure light of the morning? it is so easy to dull our sense of honour and delicacy of mind with constant abrasion, while falsehoods stalk abroad with proud steps in the name of trade, politics and patriotism, that any protest against their perpetual intrusion into our lives is considered to be sentimentalism, unworthy of true manliness. and it has come to pass that the children of those heroes who would keep their word at the point of death, who would disdain to cheat men for vulgar profit, who even in their fight would much rather court defeat than be dishonourable, have become energetic in dealing with falsehoods and do not feel humiliated by gaining advantage from them. and this has been effected by the charm of the word "modern." but if undiluted utility be modern, beauty is of all ages; if mean selfishness be modern, the human ideals are no new inventions. and we must know for certain that however modern may be the proficiency which cripples man for the sake of methods and machines, it will never live to be old. but while trying to free our minds from the arrogant claims of europe and to help ourselves out of the quicksands of our infatuation, we may go to the other extreme and blind ourselves with a wholesale suspicion of the west. the reaction of disillusionment is just as unreal as the first shock of illusion. we must try to come to that normal state of mind by which we can clearly discern our own danger and avoid it without being unjust towards the source of that danger. there is always the natural temptation in us of wishing to pay back europe in her own coin, and return contempt for contempt and evil for evil. but that again would be to imitate europe in one of her worst features, which comes out in her behaviour to people whom she describes as yellow or red, brown or black. and this is a point on which we in the east have to acknowledge our guilt and own that our sin has been as great, if not greater, when we insulted humanity by treating with utter disdain and cruelty men who belonged to a particular creed, colour or caste. it is really because we are afraid of our own weakness, which allows itself to be overcome by the sight of power, that we try to substitute for it another weakness which makes itself blind to the glories of the west. when we truly know the europe which is great and good, we can effectively save ourselves from the europe which is mean and grasping. it is easy to be unfair in one's judgment when one is faced with human miseries,--and pessimism is the result of building theories while the mind is suffering. to despair of humanity is only possible if we lose faith in truth which brings to it strength, when its defeat is greatest, and calls out new life from the depth of its destruction. we must admit that there is a living soul in the west which is struggling unobserved against the hugeness of the organizations under which men, women and children are being crushed, and whose mechanical necessities are ignoring laws that are spiritual and human,--the soul whose sensibilities refuse to be dulled completely by dangerous habits of heedlessness in dealings with races for whom it lacks natural sympathy. the west could never have risen to the eminence she has reached if her strength were merely the strength of the brute or of the machine. the divine in her heart is suffering from the injuries inflicted by her hands upon the world,--and from this pain of her higher nature flows the secret balm which will bring healing to those injuries. time after time she has fought against herself and has undone the chains which with her own hands she had fastened round helpless limbs; and though she forced poison down the throat of a great nation at the point of the sword for gain of money, she herself woke up to withdraw from it, to wash her hands clean again. this shows hidden springs of humanity in spots which look dead and barren. it proves that the deeper truth in her nature, which can survive such a career of cruel cowardliness, is not greed, but reverence for unselfish ideals. it would be altogether unjust, both to us and to europe, to say that she has fascinated the modern eastern mind by the mere exhibition of her power. through the smoke of cannons and dust of markets the light of her moral nature has shone bright, and she has brought to us the ideal of ethical freedom, whose foundation lies deeper than social conventions and whose province of activity is world-wide. the east has instinctively felt, even through her aversion, that she has a great deal to learn from europe, not merely about the materials of power, but about its inner source, which is of mind and of the moral nature of man. europe has been teaching us the higher obligations of public good above those of the family and the clan, and the sacredness of law, which makes society independent of individual caprice, secures for it continuity of progress, and guarantees justice to all men of all positions in life. above all things europe has held high before our minds the banner of liberty, through centuries of martyrdom and achievement,--liberty of conscience, liberty of thought and action, liberty in the ideals of art and literature. and because europe has won our deep respect, she has become so dangerous for us where she is turbulently weak and false,--dangerous like poison when it is served along with our best food. there is one safety for us upon which we hope we may count, and that is, that we can claim europe herself as our ally in our resistance to her temptations and to her violent encroachments; for she has ever carried her own standard of perfection, by which we can measure her falls and gauge her degrees of failure, by which we can call her before her own tribunal and put her to shame,--the shame which is the sign of the true pride of nobleness. but our fear is, that the poison may be more powerful than the food, and what is strength in her to-day may not be the sign of health, but the contrary; for it may be temporarily caused by the upsetting of the balance of life. our fear is that evil has a fateful fascination when it assumes dimensions which are colossal,--and though at last it is sure to lose its centre of gravity by its abnormal disproportion, the mischief which it creates before its fall may be beyond reparation. therefore i ask you to have the strength of faith and clarity of mind to know for certain that the lumbering structure of modern progress, riveted by the iron bolts of efficiency, which runs upon the wheels of ambition, cannot hold together for long. collisions are certain to occur; for it has to travel upon organized lines, it is too heavy to choose its own course freely; and once it is off the rails, its endless train of vehicles is dislocated. a day will come when it will fall in a heap of ruin and cause serious obstruction to the traffic of the world. do we not see signs of this even now? does not the voice come to us, through the din of war, the shrieks of hatred, the wailings of despair, through the churning up of the unspeakable filth which has been accumulating for ages in the bottom of this nationalism,--the voice which cries to our soul that the tower of national selfishness, which goes by the name of patriotism, which has raised its banner of treason against heaven, must totter and fall with a crash, weighed down by its own bulk, its flag kissing the dust, its light extinguished? my brothers, when the red light of conflagration sends up its crackle of laughter to the stars, keep your faith upon those stars and not upon the fire of destruction. for when this conflagration consumes itself and dies down, leaving its memorial in ashes, the eternal light will again shine in the east,--the east which has been the birthplace of the morning sun of man's history. and who knows if that day has not already dawned, and the sun not risen, in the easternmost horizon of asia? and i offer, as did my ancestor rishis, my salutation to that sunrise of the east, which is destined once again to illumine the whole world. i know my voice is too feeble to raise itself above the uproar of this bustling time, and it is easy for any street urchin to fling against me the epithet of "unpractical." it will stick to my coat-tail, never to be washed away, effectively excluding me from the consideration of all respectable persons. i know what a risk one runs from the vigorously athletic crowds in being styled an idealist in these days, when thrones have lost their dignity and prophets have become an anachronism, when the sound that drowns all voices is the noise of the market-place. yet when, one day, standing on the outskirts of yokohama town, bristling with its display of modern miscellanies, i watched the sunset in your southern sea, and saw its peace and majesty among your pine-clad hills,--with the great fujiyama growing faint against the golden horizon, like a god overcome with his own radiance,--the music of eternity welled up through the evening silence, and i felt that the sky and the earth and the lyrics of the dawn and the dayfall are with the poets and idealists, and not with the marketmen robustly contemptuous of all sentiment,--that, after the forgetfulness of his own divinity, man will remember again that heaven is always in touch with his world, which can never be abandoned for good to the hounding wolves of the modern era, scenting human blood and howling to the skies. nationalism in india our real problem in india is not political. it is social. this is a condition not only prevailing in india, but among all nations. i do not believe in an exclusive political interest. politics in the west have dominated western ideals, and we in india are trying to imitate you. we have to remember that in europe, where peoples had their racial unity from the beginning, and where natural resources were insufficient for the inhabitants, the civilization has naturally taken the character of political and commercial aggressiveness. for on the one hand they had no internal complications, and on the other they had to deal with neighbours who were strong and rapacious. to have perfect combination among themselves and a watchful attitude of animosity against others was taken as the solution of their problems. in former days they organized and plundered, in the present age the same spirit continues--and they organize and exploit the whole world. but from the earliest beginnings of history india has had her own problem constantly before her--it is the race problem. each nation must be conscious of its mission, and we, in india, must realize that we cut a poor figure when we are trying to be political, simply because we have not yet been finally able to accomplish what was set before us by our providence. this problem of race unity which we have been trying to solve for so many years has likewise to be faced by you here in america. many people in this country ask me what is happening as to the caste distinctions in india. but when this question is asked me, it is usually done with a superior air. and i feel tempted to put the same question to our american critics with a slight modification, "what have you done with the red indian and the negro?" for you have not got over your attitude of caste toward them. you have used violent methods to keep aloof from other races, but until you have solved the question here in america, you have no right to question india. in spite of our great difficulty, however, india has done something. she has tried to make an adjustment of races, to acknowledge the real differences between them where these exist, and yet seek for some basis of unity. this basis has come through our saints, like nanak, kabir, chaitnaya and others, preaching one god to all races of india. in finding the solution of our problem we shall have helped to solve the world problem as well. what india has been, the whole world is now. the whole world is becoming one country through scientific facility. and the moment is arriving when you also must find a basis of unity which is not political. if india can offer to the world her solution, it will be a contribution to humanity. there is only one history--the history of man. all national histories are merely chapters in the larger one. and we are content in india to suffer for such a great cause. each individual has his self-love. therefore his brute instinct leads him to fight with others in the sole pursuit of his self-interest. but man has also his higher instincts of sympathy and mutual help. the people who are lacking in this higher moral power and who therefore cannot combine in fellowship with one another must perish or live in a state of degradation. only those peoples have survived and achieved civilization who have this spirit of co-operation strong in them. so we find that from the beginning of history men had to choose between fighting with one another and combining, between serving their own interest or the common interest of all. in our early history, when the geographical limits of each country and also the facilities of communication were small, this problem was comparatively small in dimension. it was sufficient for men to develop their sense of unity within their area of segregation. in those days they combined among themselves and fought against others. but it was this moral spirit of combination which was the true basis of their greatness, and this fostered their art, science and religion. at that early time the most important fact that man had to take count of was the fact of the members of one particular race of men coming in close contact with one another. those who truly grasped this fact through their higher nature made their mark in history. the most important fact of the present age is that all the different races of men have come close together. and again we are confronted with two alternatives. the problem is whether the different groups of peoples shall go on fighting with one another or find out some true basis of reconciliation and mutual help; whether it will be interminable competition or co-operation. i have no hesitation in saying that those who are gifted with the moral power of love and vision of spiritual unity, who have the least feeling of enmity against aliens, and the sympathetic insight to place themselves in the position of others, will be the fittest to take their permanent place in the age that is lying before us, and those who are constantly developing their instinct of fight and intolerance of aliens will be eliminated. for this is the problem before us, and we have to prove our humanity by solving it through the help of our higher nature. the gigantic organizations for hurting others and warding off their blows, for making money by dragging others back, will not help us. on the contrary, by their crushing weight, their enormous cost and their deadening effect upon living humanity, they will seriously impede our freedom in the larger life of a higher civilization. during the evolution of the nation the moral culture of brotherhood was limited by geographical boundaries, because at that time those boundaries were true. now they have become imaginary lines of tradition divested of the qualities of real obstacles. so the time has come when man's moral nature must deal with this great fact with all seriousness or perish. the first impulse of this change of circumstance has been the churning up of man's baser passions of greed and cruel hatred. if this persists indefinitely, and armaments go on exaggerating themselves to unimaginable absurdities, and machines and storehouses envelop this fair earth with their dirt and smoke and ugliness, then it will end in a conflagration of suicide. therefore man will have to exert all his power of love and clarity of vision to make another great moral adjustment which will comprehend the whole world of men and not merely the fractional groups of nationality. the call has come to every individual in the present age to prepare himself and his surroundings for this dawn of a new era, when man shall discover his soul in the spiritual unity of all human beings. if it is given at all to the west to struggle out of these tangles of the lower slopes to the spiritual summit of humanity then i cannot but think that it is the special mission of america to fulfil this hope of god and man. you are the country of expectation, desiring something else than what is. europe has her subtle habits of mind and her conventions. but america, as yet, has come to no conclusions. i realize how much america is untrammelled by the traditions of the past, and i can appreciate that experimentalism is a sign of america's youth. the foundation of her glory is in the future, rather than in the past; and if one is gifted with the power of clairvoyance, one will be able to love the america that is to be. america is destined to justify western civilization to the east. europe has lost faith in humanity, and has become distrustful and sickly. america, on the other hand, is not pessimistic or blasé. you know, as a people, that there is such a thing as a better and a best; and that knowledge drives you on. there are habits that are not merely passive but aggressively arrogant. they are not like mere walls, but are like hedges of stinging nettles. europe has been cultivating these hedges of habits for long years, till they have grown round her dense and strong and high. the pride of her traditions has sent its roots deep into her heart. i do not wish to contend that it is unreasonable. but pride in every form breeds blindness at the end. like all artificial stimulants its first effect is a heightening of consciousness, and then with the increasing dose it muddles it and brings an exultation that is misleading. europe has gradually grown hardened in her pride in all her outer and inner habits. she not only cannot forget that she is western, but she takes every opportunity to hurl this fact against others to humiliate them. this is why she is growing incapable of imparting to the east what is best in herself, and of accepting in a right spirit the wisdom that the east has stored for centuries. in america national habits and traditions have not had time to spread their clutching roots round your hearts. you have constantly felt and complained of your disadvantages when you compared your nomadic restlessness with the settled traditions of europe--the europe which can show her picture of greatness to the best advantage because she can fix it against the background of the past. but in this present age of transition, when a new era of civilization is sending its trumpet-call to all peoples of the world across an unlimited future, this very freedom of detachment will enable you to accept its invitation and to achieve the goal for which europe began her journey but lost herself midway. for she was tempted out of her path by her pride of power and greed of possession. not merely your freedom from habits of mind in individuals, but also the freedom of your history from all unclean entanglements, fits you in your career of holding the banner of civilization of the future. all the great nations of europe have their victims in other parts of the world. this not only deadens their moral sympathy but also their intellectual sympathy, which is so necessary for the understanding of races which are different from one's own. englishmen can never truly understand india, because their minds are not disinterested with regard to that country. if you compare england with germany or france you will find she has produced the smallest number of scholars who have studied indian literature and philosophy with any amount of sympathetic insight or thoroughness. this attitude of apathy and contempt is natural where the relationship is abnormal and founded upon national selfishness and pride. but your history has been disinterested, and that is why you have been able to help japan in her lessons in western civilization, and that is why china can look upon you with her best confidence in this her darkest period of danger. in fact you are carrying all the responsibility of a great future because you are untrammelled by the grasping miserliness of a past. therefore of all countries of the earth america has to be fully conscious of this future, her vision must not be obscured and her faith in humanity must be strong with the strength of youth. a parallelism exists between america and india--the parallelism of welding together into one body various races. in my country we have been seeking to find out something common to all races, which will prove their real unity. no nation looking for a mere political or commercial basis of unity will find such a solution sufficient. men of thought and power will discover the spiritual unity, will realize it, and preach it. india has never had a real sense of nationalism. even though from childhood i had been taught that idolatry of the nation is almost better than reverence for god and humanity, i believe i have outgrown that teaching, and it is my conviction that my countrymen will truly gain their india by fighting against the education which teaches them that a country is greater than the ideals of humanity. the educated indian at present is trying to absorb some lessons from history contrary to the lessons of our ancestors. the east, in fact, is attempting to take unto itself a history which is not the outcome of its own living. japan, for example, thinks she is getting powerful through adopting western methods, but, after she has exhausted her inheritance, only the borrowed weapons of civilization will remain to her. she will not have developed herself from within. europe has her past. europe's strength therefore lies in her history. we, in india, must make up our minds that we cannot borrow other people's history, and that if we stifle our own we are committing suicide. when you borrow things that do not belong to your life, they only serve to crush your life. and therefore i believe that it does india no good to compete with western civilization in its own field. but we shall be more than compensated if, in spite of the insults heaped upon us, we follow our own destiny. there are lessons which impart information or train our minds for intellectual pursuits. these are simple and can be acquired and used with advantage. but there are others which affect our deeper nature and change our direction of life. before we accept them and pay their value by selling our own inheritance, we must pause and think deeply. in man's history there come ages of fireworks which dazzle us by their force and movement. they laugh not only at our modest household lamps but also at the eternal stars. but let us not for that provocation be precipitate in our desire to dismiss our lamps. let us patiently bear our present insult and realize that these fireworks have splendour but not permanence, because of the extreme explosiveness which is the cause of their power, and also of their exhaustion. they are spending a fatal quantity of energy and substance compared to their gain and production. anyhow, our ideals have been evolved through our own history, and even if we wished we could only make poor fireworks of them, because their materials are different from yours, as is also their moral purpose. if we cherish the desire of paying our all to buy a political nationality it will be as absurd as if switzerland had staked her existence on her ambition to build up a navy powerful enough to compete with that of england. the mistake that we make is in thinking that man's channel of greatness is only one--the one which has made itself painfully evident for the time being by its depth of insolence. we must know for certain that there is a future before us and that future is waiting for those who are rich in moral ideals and not in mere things. and it is the privilege of man to work for fruits that are beyond his immediate reach, and to adjust his life not in slavish conformity to the examples of some present success or even to his own prudent past, limited in its aspiration, but to an infinite future bearing in its heart the ideals of our highest expectations. we must recognize that it is providential that the west has come to india. and yet some one must show the east to the west, and convince the west that the east has her contribution to make to the history of civilization. india is no beggar of the west. and yet even though the west may think she is, i am not for thrusting off western civilization and becoming segregated in our independence. let us have a deep association. if providence wants england to be the channel of that communication, of that deeper association, i am willing to accept it with all humility. i have great faith in human nature, and i think the west will find its true mission. i speak bitterly of western civilization when i am conscious that it is betraying its trust and thwarting its own purpose. the west must not make herself a curse to the world by using her power for her own selfish needs, but, by teaching the ignorant and helping the weak, she should save herself from the worst danger that the strong is liable to incur by making the feeble acquire power enough to resist her intrusion. and also she must not make her materialism to be the final thing, but must realize that she is doing a service in freeing the spiritual being from the tyranny of matter. i am not against one nation in particular, but against the general idea of all nations. what is the nation? it is the aspect of a whole people as an organized power. this organization incessantly keeps up the insistence of the population on becoming strong and efficient. but this strenuous effort after strength and efficiency drains man's energy from his higher nature where he is self-sacrificing and creative. for thereby man's power of sacrifice is diverted from his ultimate object, which is moral, to the maintenance of this organization, which is mechanical. yet in this he feels all the satisfaction of moral exaltation and therefore becomes supremely dangerous to humanity. he feels relieved of the urging of his conscience when he can transfer his responsibility to this machine which is the creation of his intellect and not of his complete moral personality. by this device the people which loves freedom perpetuates slavery in a large portion of the world with the comfortable feeling of pride of having done its duty; men who are naturally just can be cruelly unjust both in their act and their thought, accompanied by a feeling that they are helping the world to receive its deserts; men who are honest can blindly go on robbing others of their human rights for self-aggrandizement, all the while abusing the deprived for not deserving better treatment. we have seen in our everyday life even small organizations of business and profession produce callousness of feeling in men who are not naturally bad, and we can well imagine what a moral havoc it is causing in a world where whole peoples are furiously organizing themselves for gaining wealth and power. nationalism is a great menace. it is the particular thing which for years has been at the bottom of india's troubles. and inasmuch as we have been ruled and dominated by a nation that is strictly political in its attitude, we have tried to develop within ourselves, despite our inheritance from the past, a belief in our eventual political destiny. there are different parties in india, with different ideals. some are struggling for political independence. others think that the time has not arrived for that, and yet believe that india should have the rights that the english colonies have. they wish to gain autonomy as far as possible. in the beginning of the history of political agitation in india there was not the conflict between parties which there is to-day. at that time there was a party known as the indian congress; it had no real programme. they had a few grievances for redress by the authorities. they wanted larger representation in the council house, and more freedom in municipal government. they wanted scraps of things, but they had no constructive ideal. therefore i was lacking in enthusiasm for their methods. it was my conviction that what india most needed was constructive work coming from within herself. in this work we must take all risks and go on doing the duties which by right are ours, though in the teeth of persecution; winning moral victory at every step, by our failure and suffering. we must show those who are over us that we have in ourselves the strength of moral power, the power to suffer for truth. where we have nothing to show, we have only to beg. it would be mischievous if the gifts we wish for were granted to us at once, and i have told my countrymen, time and again, to combine for the work of creating opportunities to give vent to our spirit of self-sacrifice, and not for the purpose of begging. the party, however, lost power because the people soon came to realize how futile was the half policy adopted by them. the party split, and there arrived the extremists, who advocated independence of action, and discarded the begging method,--the easiest method of relieving one's mind from his responsibility towards his country. their ideals were based on western history. they had no sympathy with the special problems of india. they did not recognize the patent fact that there were causes in our social organization which made the indian incapable of coping with the alien. what should we do if, for any reason, england was driven away? we should simply be victims for other nations. the same social weaknesses would prevail. the thing we in india have to think of is this--to remove those social customs and ideals which have generated a want of self-respect and a complete dependence on those above us,--a state of affairs which has been brought about entirely by the domination in india of the caste system, and the blind and lazy habit of relying upon the authority of traditions that are incongruous anachronisms in the present age. once again i draw your attention to the difficulties india has had to encounter and her struggle to overcome them. her problem was the problem of the world in miniature. india is too vast in its area and too diverse in its races. it is many countries packed in one geographical receptacle. it is just the opposite of what europe truly is, namely, one country made into many. thus europe in its culture and growth has had the advantage of the strength of the many as well as the strength of the one. india, on the contrary, being naturally many, yet adventitiously one, has all along suffered from the looseness of its diversity and the feebleness of its unity. a true unity is like a round globe, it rolls on, carrying its burden easily; but diversity is a many-cornered thing which has to be dragged and pushed with all force. be it said to the credit of india that this diversity was not her own creation; she has had to accept it as a fact from the beginning of her history. in america and australia, europe has simplified her problem by almost exterminating the original population. even in the present age this spirit of extermination is making itself manifest, in the inhospitable shutting out of aliens, by those who themselves were aliens in the lands they now occupy. but india tolerated difference of races from the first, and that spirit of toleration has acted all through her history. her caste system is the outcome of this spirit of toleration. for india has all along been trying experiments in evolving a social unity within which all the different peoples could be held together, while fully enjoying the freedom of maintaining their own differences. the tie has been as loose as possible, yet as close as the circumstances permitted. this has produced something like a united states of a social federation, whose common name is hinduism. india had felt that diversity of races there must be and should be, whatever may be its drawback, and you can never coerce nature into your narrow limits of convenience without paying one day very dearly for it. in this india was right; but what she failed to realize was that in human beings differences are not like the physical barriers of mountains, fixed for ever--they are fluid with life's flow, they are changing their courses and their shapes and volume. therefore in her caste regulations india recognized differences, but not the mutability which is the law of life. in trying to avoid collisions she set up boundaries of immovable walls, thus giving to her numerous races the negative benefit of peace and order but not the positive opportunity of expansion and movement. she accepted nature where it produces diversity, but ignored it where it uses that diversity for its world-game of infinite permutations and combinations. she treated life in all truth where it is manifold, but insulted it where it is ever moving. therefore life departed from her social system and in its place she is worshipping with all ceremony the magnificent cage of countless compartments that she has manufactured. the same thing happened where she tried to ward off the collisions of trade interests. she associated different trades and professions with different castes. this had the effect of allaying for good the interminable jealousy and hatred of competition--the competition which breeds cruelty and makes the atmosphere thick with lies and deception. in this also india laid all her emphasis upon the law of heredity, ignoring the law of mutation, and thus gradually reduced arts into crafts and genius into skill. however, what western observers fail to discern is that in her caste system india in all seriousness accepted her responsibility to solve the race problem in such a manner as to avoid all friction, and yet to afford each race freedom within its boundaries. let us admit india has not in this achieved a full measure of success. but this you must also concede, that the west, being more favourably situated as to homogeneity of races, has never given her attention to this problem, and whenever confronted with it she has tried to make it easy by ignoring it altogether. and this is the source of her anti-asiatic agitations for depriving aliens of their right to earn their honest living on these shores. in most of your colonies you only admit them on condition of their accepting the menial position of hewers of wood and drawers of water. either you shut your doors against the aliens or reduce them into slavery. and this is your solution of the problem of race-conflict. whatever may be its merits you will have to admit that it does not spring from the higher impulses of civilization, but from the lower passions of greed and hatred. you say this is human nature--and india also thought she knew human nature when she strongly barricaded her race distinctions by the fixed barriers of social gradations. but we have found out to our cost that human nature is not what it seems, but what it is in truth; which is in its infinite possibilities. and when we in our blindness insult humanity for its ragged appearance it sheds its disguise to disclose to us that we have insulted our god. the degradation which we cast upon others in our pride or self-interest degrades our own humanity--and this is the punishment which is most terrible, because we do not detect it till it is too late. not only in your relation with aliens but with the different sections of your own society you have not achieved harmony of reconciliation. the spirit of conflict and competition is allowed the full freedom of its reckless career. and because its genesis is the greed of wealth and power it can never come to any other end but to a violent death. in india the production of commodities was brought under the law of social adjustments. its basis was co-operation, having for its object the perfect satisfaction of social needs. but in the west it is guided by the impulse of competition, whose end is the gain of wealth for individuals. but the individual is like the geometrical line; it is length without breadth. it has not got the depth to be able to hold anything permanently. therefore its greed or gain can never come to finality. in its lengthening process of growth it can cross other lines and cause entanglements, but will ever go on missing the ideal of completeness in its thinness of isolation. in all our physical appetites we recognize a limit. we know that to exceed that limit is to exceed the limit of health. but has this lust for wealth and power no bounds beyond which is death's dominion? in these national carnivals of materialism are not the western peoples spending most of their vital energy in merely producing things and neglecting the creation of ideals? and can a civilization ignore the law of moral health and go on in its endless process of inflation by gorging upon material things? man in his social ideals naturally tries to regulate his appetites, subordinating them to the higher purpose of his nature. but in the economic world our appetites follow no other restrictions but those of supply and demand which can be artificially fostered, affording individuals opportunities for indulgence in an endless feast of grossness. in india our social instincts imposed restrictions upon our appetites,--maybe it went to the extreme of repression,--but in the west the spirit of economic organization with no moral purpose goads the people into the perpetual pursuit of wealth; but has this no wholesome limit? the ideals that strive to take form in social institutions have two objects. one is to regulate our passions and appetites for the harmonious development of man, and the other is to help him to cultivate disinterested love for his fellow-creatures. therefore society is the expression of those moral and spiritual aspirations of man which belong to his higher nature. our food is creative, it builds our body; but not so wine, which stimulates. our social ideals create the human world, but when our mind is diverted from them to greed of power then in that state of intoxication we live in a world of abnormality where our strength is not health and our liberty is not freedom. therefore political freedom does not give us freedom when our mind is not free. an automobile does not create freedom of movement, because it is a mere machine. when i myself am free i can use the automobile for the purpose of my freedom. we must never forget in the present day that those people who have got their political freedom are not necessarily free, they are merely powerful. the passions which are unbridled in them are creating huge organizations of slavery in the disguise of freedom. those who have made the gain of money their highest end are unconsciously selling their life and soul to rich persons or to the combinations that represent money. those who are enamoured of their political power and gloat over their extension of dominion over foreign races gradually surrender their own freedom and humanity to the organizations necessary for holding other peoples in slavery. in the so-called free countries the majority of the people are not free, they are driven by the minority to a goal which is not even known to them. this becomes possible only because people do not acknowledge moral and spiritual freedom as their object. they create huge eddies with their passions, and they feel dizzily inebriated with the mere velocity of their whirling movement, taking that to be freedom. but the doom which is waiting to overtake them is as certain as death--for man's truth is moral truth and his emancipation is in the spiritual life. the general opinion of the majority of the present-day nationalists in india is that we have come to a final completeness in our social and spiritual ideals, the task of the constructive work of society having been done several thousand years before we were born, and that now we are free to employ all our activities in the political direction. we never dream of blaming our social inadequacy as the origin of our present helplessness, for we have accepted as the creed of our nationalism that this social system has been perfected for all time to come by our ancestors, who had the superhuman vision of all eternity and supernatural power for making infinite provision for future ages. therefore, for all our miseries and shortcomings, we hold responsible the historical surprises that burst upon us from outside. this is the reason why we think that our one task is to build a political miracle of freedom upon the quicksand of social slavery. in fact we want to dam up the true course of our own historical stream, and only borrow power from the sources of other peoples' history. those of us in india who have come under the delusion that mere political freedom will make us free have accepted their lessons from the west as the gospel truth and lost their faith in humanity. we must remember whatever weakness we cherish in our society will become the source of danger in politics. the same inertia which leads us to our idolatry of dead forms in social institutions will create in our politics prison-houses with immovable walls. the narrowness of sympathy which makes it possible for us to impose upon a considerable portion of humanity the galling yoke of inferiority will assert itself in our politics in creating the tyranny of injustice. when our nationalists talk about ideals they forget that the basis of nationalism is wanting. the very people who are upholding these ideals are themselves the most conservative in their social practice. nationalists say, for example, look at switzerland where, in spite of race differences, the peoples have solidified into a nation. yet, remember that in switzerland the races can mingle, they can intermarry, because they are of the same blood. in india there is no common birthright. and when we talk of western nationality we forget that the nations there do not have that physical repulsion, one for the other, that we have between different castes. have we an instance in the whole world where a people who are not allowed to mingle their blood shed their blood for one another except by coercion or for mercenary purposes? and can we ever hope that these moral barriers against our race amalgamation will not stand in the way of our political unity? then again we must give full recognition to this fact that our social restrictions are still tyrannical, so much so as to make men cowards. if a man tells me he has heterodox ideas, but that he cannot follow them because he would be socially ostracized, i excuse him for having to live a life of untruth, in order to live at all. the social habit of mind which impels us to make the life of our fellow-beings a burden to them where they differ from us even in such a thing as their choice of food, is sure to persist in our political organization and result in creating engines of coercion to crush every rational difference which is the sign of life. and tyranny will only add to the inevitable lies and hypocrisy in our political life. is the mere name of freedom so valuable that we should be willing to sacrifice for its sake our moral freedom? the intemperance of our habits does not immediately show its effects when we are in the vigour of our youth. but it gradually consumes that vigour, and when the period of decline sets in then we have to settle accounts and pay off our debts, which leads us to insolvency. in the west you are still able to carry your head high, though your humanity is suffering every moment from its dipsomania of organizing power. india also in the heyday of her youth could carry in her vital organs the dead weight of her social organizations stiffened to rigid perfection, but it has been fatal to her, and has produced a gradual paralysis of her living nature. and this is the reason why the educated community of india has become insensible of her social needs. they are taking the very immobility of our social structures as the sign of their perfection,--and because the healthy feeling of pain is dead in the limbs of our social organism they delude themselves into thinking that it needs no ministration. therefore they think that all their energies need their only scope in the political field. it is like a man whose legs have become shrivelled and useless, trying to delude himself that these limbs have grown still because they have attained their ultimate salvation, and all that is wrong about him is the shortness of his sticks. so much for the social and the political regeneration of india. now we come to her industries, and i am very often asked whether there is in india any industrial regeneration since the advent of the british government. it must be remembered that at the beginning of the british rule in india our industries were suppressed, and since then we have not met with any real help or encouragement to enable us to make a stand against the monster commercial organizations of the world. the nations have decreed that we must remain purely an agricultural people, even forgetting the use of arms for all time to come. thus india is being turned into so many predigested morsels of food ready to be swallowed at any moment by any nation which has even the most rudimentary set of teeth in its head. india therefore has very little outlet for her industrial originality. i personally do not believe in the unwieldy organizations of the present day. the very fact that they are ugly shows that they are in discordance with the whole creation. the vast powers of nature do not reveal their truth in hideousness, but in beauty. beauty is the signature which the creator stamps upon his works when he is satisfied with them. all our products that insolently ignore the laws of perfection and are unashamed in their display of ungainliness bear the perpetual weight of god's displeasure. so far as your commerce lacks the dignity of grace it is untrue. beauty and her twin brother truth require leisure and self-control for their growth. but the greed of gain has no time or limit to its capaciousness. its one object is to produce and consume. it has pity neither for beautiful nature nor for living human beings. it is ruthlessly ready without a moment's hesitation to crush beauty and life out of them, moulding them into money. it is this ugly vulgarity of commerce which brought upon it the censure of contempt in our earlier days, when men had leisure to have an unclouded vision of perfection in humanity. men in those times were rightly ashamed of the instinct of mere money-making. but in this scientific age money, by its very abnormal bulk, has won its throne. and when from its eminence of piled-up things it insults the higher instincts of man, banishing beauty and noble sentiments from its surroundings, we submit. for we in our meanness have accepted bribes from its hands and our imagination has grovelled in the dust before its immensity of flesh. but its very unwieldiness and its endless complexities are its true signs of failure. the swimmer who is an expert does not exhibit his muscular force by violent movements, but exhibits some power which is invisible and which shows itself in perfect grace and reposefulness. the true distinction of man from animals is in his power and worth which are inner and invisible. but the present-day commercial civilization of man is not only taking too much time and space but killing time and space. its movements are violent, its noise is discordantly loud. it is carrying its own damnation because it is trampling into distortion the humanity upon which it stands. it is strenuously turning out money at the cost of happiness. man is reducing himself to his minimum in order to be able to make amplest room for his organizations. he is deriding his human sentiments into shame because they are apt to stand in the way of his machines. in our mythology we have the legend that the man who performs penances for attaining immortality has to meet with temptations sent by indra, the lord of the immortals. if he is lured by them he is lost. the west has been striving for centuries after its goal of immortality. indra has sent her the temptation to try her. it is the gorgeous temptation of wealth. she has accepted it, and her civilization of humanity has lost its path in the wilderness of machinery. this commercialism with its barbarity of ugly decorations is a terrible menace to all humanity, because it is setting up the ideal of power over that of perfection. it is making the cult of self-seeking exult in its naked shamelessness. our nerves are more delicate than our muscles. things that are the most precious in us are helpless as babes when we take away from them the careful protection which they claim from us for their very preciousness. therefore, when the callous rudeness of power runs amuck in the broad-way of humanity it scares away by its grossness the ideals which we have cherished with the martyrdom of centuries. the temptation which is fatal for the strong is still more so for the weak. and i do not welcome it in our indian life, even though it be sent by the lord of the immortals. let our life be simple in its outer aspect and rich in its inner gain. let our civilization take its firm stand upon its basis of social co-operation and not upon that of economic exploitation and conflict. how to do it in the teeth of the drainage of our life-blood by the economic dragons is the task set before the thinkers of all oriental nations who have faith in the human soul. it is a sign of laziness and impotency to accept conditions imposed upon us by others who have other ideals than ours. we should actively try to adapt the world powers to guide our history to its own perfect end. from the above you will know that i am not an economist. i am willing to acknowledge that there is a law of demand and supply and an infatuation of man for more things than are good for him. and yet i will persist in believing that there is such a thing as the harmony of completeness in humanity, where poverty does not take away his riches, where defeat may lead him to victory, death to immortality, and where in the compensation of eternal justice those who are the last may yet have their insult transmuted into a golden triumph. the sunset of the century (_written in the bengali on the last day of last century_) the last sun of the century sets amidst the blood-red clouds of the west and the whirlwind of hatred. the naked passion of self-love of nations, in its drunken delirium of greed, is dancing to the clash of steel and the howling verses of vengeance. the hungry self of the nation shall burst in a violence of fury from its own shameless feeding. for it has made the world its food, and licking it, crunching it and swallowing it in big morsels, it swells and swells till in the midst of its unholy feast descends the sudden shaft of heaven piercing its heart of grossness. the crimson glow of light on the horizon is not the light of thy dawn of peace, my motherland. it is the glimmer of the funeral pyre burning to ashes the vast flesh,--the self-love of the nation--dead under its own excess. thy morning waits behind the patient dark of the east, meek and silent. keep watch, india. bring your offerings of worship for that sacred sunrise. let the first hymn of its welcome sound in your voice and sing "come, peace, thou daughter of god's own great suffering. come with thy treasure of contentment, the sword of fortitude, and meekness crowning thy forehead." be not ashamed, my brothers, to stand before the proud and the powerful with your white robe of simpleness. let your crown be of humility, your freedom the freedom of the soul. build god's throne daily upon the ample bareness of your poverty and know that what is huge is not great and pride is not everlasting. the end _printed by_ r. & r. clark, limited, _edinburgh_. statesman by plato translated by benjamin jowett introduction and analysis. in the phaedrus, the republic, the philebus, the parmenides, and the sophist, we may observe the tendency of plato to combine two or more subjects or different aspects of the same subject in a single dialogue. in the sophist and statesman especially we note that the discussion is partly regarded as an illustration of method, and that analogies are brought from afar which throw light on the main subject. and in his later writings generally we further remark a decline of style, and of dramatic power; the characters excite little or no interest, and the digressions are apt to overlay the main thesis; there is not the 'callida junctura' of an artistic whole. both the serious discussions and the jests are sometimes out of place. the invincible socrates is withdrawn from view; and new foes begin to appear under old names. plato is now chiefly concerned, not with the original sophist, but with the sophistry of the schools of philosophy, which are making reasoning impossible; and is driven by them out of the regions of transcendental speculation back into the path of common sense. a logical or psychological phase takes the place of the doctrine of ideas in his mind. he is constantly dwelling on the importance of regular classification, and of not putting words in the place of things. he has banished the poets, and is beginning to use a technical language. he is bitter and satirical, and seems to be sadly conscious of the realities of human life. yet the ideal glory of the platonic philosophy is not extinguished. he is still looking for a city in which kings are either philosophers or gods (compare laws). the statesman has lost the grace and beauty of the earlier dialogues. the mind of the writer seems to be so overpowered in the effort of thought as to impair his style; at least his gift of expression does not keep up with the increasing difficulty of his theme. the idea of the king or statesman and the illustration of method are connected, not like the love and rhetoric of the phaedrus, by 'little invisible pegs,' but in a confused and inartistic manner, which fails to produce any impression of a whole on the mind of the reader. plato apologizes for his tediousness, and acknowledges that the improvement of his audience has been his only aim in some of his digressions. his own image may be used as a motto of his style: like an inexpert statuary he has made the figure or outline too large, and is unable to give the proper colours or proportions to his work. he makes mistakes only to correct them--this seems to be his way of drawing attention to common dialectical errors. the eleatic stranger, here, as in the sophist, has no appropriate character, and appears only as the expositor of a political ideal, in the delineation of which he is frequently interrupted by purely logical illustrations. the younger socrates resembles his namesake in nothing but a name. the dramatic character is so completely forgotten, that a special reference is twice made to discussions in the sophist; and this, perhaps, is the strongest ground which can be urged for doubting the genuineness of the work. but, when we remember that a similar allusion is made in the laws to the republic, we see that the entire disregard of dramatic propriety is not always a sufficient reason for doubting the genuineness of a platonic writing. the search after the statesman, which is carried on, like that for the sophist, by the method of dichotomy, gives an opportunity for many humorous and satirical remarks. several of the jests are mannered and laboured: for example, the turn of words with which the dialogue opens; or the clumsy joke about man being an animal, who has a power of two-feet--both which are suggested by the presence of theodorus, the geometrician. there is political as well as logical insight in refusing to admit the division of mankind into hellenes and barbarians: 'if a crane could speak, he would in like manner oppose men and all other animals to cranes.' the pride of the hellene is further humbled, by being compared to a phrygian or lydian. plato glories in this impartiality of the dialectical method, which places birds in juxtaposition with men, and the king side by side with the bird-catcher; king or vermin-destroyer are objects of equal interest to science (compare parmen.). there are other passages which show that the irony of socrates was a lesson which plato was not slow in learning--as, for example, the passing remark, that 'the kings and statesmen of our day are in their breeding and education very like their subjects;' or the anticipation that the rivals of the king will be found in the class of servants; or the imposing attitude of the priests, who are the established interpreters of the will of heaven, authorized by law. nothing is more bitter in all his writings than his comparison of the contemporary politicians to lions, centaurs, satyrs, and other animals of a feebler sort, who are ever changing their forms and natures. but, as in the later dialogues generally, the play of humour and the charm of poetry have departed, never to return. still the politicus contains a higher and more ideal conception of politics than any other of plato's writings. the city of which there is a pattern in heaven (republic), is here described as a paradisiacal state of human society. in the truest sense of all, the ruler is not man but god; and such a government existed in a former cycle of human history, and may again exist when the gods resume their care of mankind. in a secondary sense, the true form of government is that which has scientific rulers, who are irresponsible to their subjects. not power but knowledge is the characteristic of a king or royal person. and the rule of a man is better and higher than law, because he is more able to deal with the infinite complexity of human affairs. but mankind, in despair of finding a true ruler, are willing to acquiesce in any law or custom which will save them from the caprice of individuals. they are ready to accept any of the six forms of government which prevail in the world. to the greek, nomos was a sacred word, but the political idealism of plato soars into a region beyond; for the laws he would substitute the intelligent will of the legislator. education is originally to implant in men's minds a sense of truth and justice, which is the divine bond of states, and the legislator is to contrive human bonds, by which dissimilar natures may be united in marriage and supply the deficiencies of one another. as in the republic, the government of philosophers, the causes of the perversion of states, the regulation of marriages, are still the political problems with which plato's mind is occupied. he treats them more slightly, partly because the dialogue is shorter, and also because the discussion of them is perpetually crossed by the other interest of dialectic, which has begun to absorb him. the plan of the politicus or statesman may be briefly sketched as follows: ( ) by a process of division and subdivision we discover the true herdsman or king of men. but before we can rightly distinguish him from his rivals, we must view him, ( ) as he is presented to us in a famous ancient tale: the tale will also enable us to distinguish the divine from the human herdsman or shepherd: ( ) and besides our fable, we must have an example; for our example we will select the art of weaving, which will have to be distinguished from the kindred arts; and then, following this pattern, we will separate the king from his subordinates or competitors. ( ) but are we not exceeding all due limits; and is there not a measure of all arts and sciences, to which the art of discourse must conform? there is; but before we can apply this measure, we must know what is the aim of discourse: and our discourse only aims at the dialectical improvement of ourselves and others.--having made our apology, we return once more to the king or statesman, and proceed to contrast him with pretenders in the same line with him, under their various forms of government. ( ) his characteristic is, that he alone has science, which is superior to law and written enactments; these do but spring out of the necessities of mankind, when they are in despair of finding the true king. ( ) the sciences which are most akin to the royal are the sciences of the general, the judge, the orator, which minister to him, but even these are subordinate to him. ( ) fixed principles are implanted by education, and the king or statesman completes the political web by marrying together dissimilar natures, the courageous and the temperate, the bold and the gentle, who are the warp and the woof of society. the outline may be filled up as follows:-- socrates: i have reason to thank you, theodorus, for the acquaintance of theaetetus and the stranger. theodorus: and you will have three times as much reason to thank me when they have delineated the statesman and philosopher, as well as the sophist. socrates: does the great geometrician apply the same measure to all three? are they not divided by an interval which no geometrical ratio can express? theodorus: by the god ammon, socrates, you are right; and i am glad to see that you have not forgotten your geometry. but before i retaliate on you, i must request the stranger to finish the argument... the stranger suggests that theaetetus shall be allowed to rest, and that socrates the younger shall respond in his place; theodorus agrees to the suggestion, and socrates remarks that the name of the one and the face of the other give him a right to claim relationship with both of them. they propose to take the statesman after the sophist; his path they must determine, and part off all other ways, stamping upon them a single negative form (compare soph.). the stranger begins the enquiry by making a division of the arts and sciences into theoretical and practical--the one kind concerned with knowledge exclusively, and the other with action; arithmetic and the mathematical sciences are examples of the former, and carpentering and handicraft arts of the latter (compare philebus). under which of the two shall we place the statesman? or rather, shall we not first ask, whether the king, statesman, master, householder, practise one art or many? as the adviser of a physician may be said to have medical science and to be a physician, so the adviser of a king has royal science and is a king. and the master of a large household may be compared to the ruler of a small state. hence we conclude that the science of the king, statesman, and householder is one and the same. and this science is akin to knowledge rather than to action. for a king rules with his mind, and not with his hands. but theoretical science may be a science either of judging, like arithmetic, or of ruling and superintending, like that of the architect or master-builder. and the science of the king is of the latter nature; but the power which he exercises is underived and uncontrolled,--a characteristic which distinguishes him from heralds, prophets, and other inferior officers. he is the wholesale dealer in command, and the herald, or other officer, retails his commands to others. again, a ruler is concerned with the production of some object, and objects may be divided into living and lifeless, and rulers into the rulers of living and lifeless objects. and the king is not like the master-builder, concerned with lifeless matter, but has the task of managing living animals. and the tending of living animals may be either a tending of individuals, or a managing of herds. and the statesman is not a groom, but a herdsman, and his art may be called either the art of managing a herd, or the art of collective management:--which do you prefer? 'no matter.' very good, socrates, and if you are not too particular about words you will be all the richer some day in true wisdom. but how would you subdivide the herdsman's art? 'i should say, that there is one management of men, and another of beasts.' very good, but you are in too great a hurry to get to man. all divisions which are rightly made should cut through the middle; if you attend to this rule, you will be more likely to arrive at classes. 'i do not understand the nature of my mistake.' your division was like a division of the human race into hellenes and barbarians, or into lydians or phrygians and all other nations, instead of into male and female; or like a division of number into ten thousand and all other numbers, instead of into odd and even. and i should like you to observe further, that though i maintain a class to be a part, there is no similar necessity for a part to be a class. but to return to your division, you spoke of men and other animals as two classes--the second of which you comprehended under the general name of beasts. this is the sort of division which an intelligent crane would make: he would put cranes into a class by themselves for their special glory, and jumble together all others, including man, in the class of beasts. an error of this kind can only be avoided by a more regular subdivision. just now we divided the whole class of animals into gregarious and non-gregarious, omitting the previous division into tame and wild. we forgot this in our hurry to arrive at man, and found by experience, as the proverb says, that 'the more haste the worse speed.' and now let us begin again at the art of managing herds. you have probably heard of the fish-preserves in the nile and in the ponds of the great king, and of the nurseries of geese and cranes in thessaly. these suggest a new division into the rearing or management of land-herds and of water-herds:--i need not say with which the king is concerned. and land-herds may be divided into walking and flying; and every idiot knows that the political animal is a pedestrian. at this point we may take a longer or a shorter road, and as we are already near the end, i see no harm in taking the longer, which is the way of mesotomy, and accords with the principle which we were laying down. the tame, walking, herding animal, may be divided into two classes--the horned and the hornless, and the king is concerned with the hornless; and these again may be subdivided into animals having or not having cloven feet, or mixing or not mixing the breed; and the king or statesman has the care of animals which have not cloven feet, and which do not mix the breed. and now, if we omit dogs, who can hardly be said to herd, i think that we have only two species left which remain undivided: and how are we to distinguish them? to geometricians, like you and theaetetus, i can have no difficulty in explaining that man is a diameter, having a power of two feet; and the power of four-legged creatures, being the double of two feet, is the diameter of our diameter. there is another excellent jest which i spy in the two remaining species. men and birds are both bipeds, and human beings are running a race with the airiest and freest of creation, in which they are far behind their competitors;--this is a great joke, and there is a still better in the juxtaposition of the bird-taker and the king, who may be seen scampering after them. for, as we remarked in discussing the sophist, the dialectical method is no respecter of persons. but we might have proceeded, as i was saying, by another and a shorter road. in that case we should have begun by dividing land animals into bipeds and quadrupeds, and bipeds into winged and wingless; we should than have taken the statesman and set him over the 'bipes implume,' and put the reins of government into his hands. here let us sum up:--the science of pure knowledge had a part which was the science of command, and this had a part which was a science of wholesale command; and this was divided into the management of animals, and was again parted off into the management of herds of animals, and again of land animals, and these into hornless, and these into bipeds; and so at last we arrived at man, and found the political and royal science. and yet we have not clearly distinguished the political shepherd from his rivals. no one would think of usurping the prerogatives of the ordinary shepherd, who on all hands is admitted to be the trainer, matchmaker, doctor, musician of his flock. but the royal shepherd has numberless competitors, from whom he must be distinguished; there are merchants, husbandmen, physicians, who will all dispute his right to manage the flock. i think that we can best distinguish him by having recourse to a famous old tradition, which may amuse as well as instruct us; the narrative is perfectly true, although the scepticism of mankind is prone to doubt the tales of old. you have heard what happened in the quarrel of atreus and thyestes? 'you mean about the golden lamb?' no, not that; but another part of the story, which tells how the sun and stars once arose in the west and set in the east, and that the god reversed their motion, as a witness to the right of atreus. 'there is such a story.' and no doubt you have heard of the empire of cronos, and of the earthborn men? the origin of these and the like stories is to be found in the tale which i am about to narrate. there was a time when god directed the revolutions of the world, but at the completion of a certain cycle he let go; and the world, by a necessity of its nature, turned back, and went round the other way. for divine things alone are unchangeable; but the earth and heavens, although endowed with many glories, have a body, and are therefore liable to perturbation. in the case of the world, the perturbation is very slight, and amounts only to a reversal of motion. for the lord of moving things is alone self-moved; neither can piety allow that he goes at one time in one direction and at another time in another; or that god has given the universe opposite motions; or that there are two gods, one turning it in one direction, another in another. but the truth is, that there are two cycles of the world, and in one of them it is governed by an immediate providence, and receives life and immortality, and in the other is let go again, and has a reverse action during infinite ages. this new action is spontaneous, and is due to exquisite perfection of balance, to the vast size of the universe, and to the smallness of the pivot upon which it turns. all changes in the heaven affect the animal world, and this being the greatest of them, is most destructive to men and animals. at the beginning of the cycle before our own very few of them had survived; and on these a mighty change passed. for their life was reversed like the motion of the world, and first of all coming to a stand then quickly returned to youth and beauty. the white locks of the aged became black; the cheeks of the bearded man were restored to their youth and fineness; the young men grew softer and smaller, and, being reduced to the condition of children in mind as well as body, began to vanish away; and the bodies of those who had died by violence, in a few moments underwent a parallel change and disappeared. in that cycle of existence there was no such thing as the procreation of animals from one another, but they were born of the earth, and of this our ancestors, who came into being immediately after the end of the last cycle and at the beginning of this, have preserved the recollection. such traditions are often now unduly discredited, and yet they may be proved by internal evidence. for observe how consistent the narrative is; as the old returned to youth, so the dead returned to life; the wheel of their existence having been reversed, they rose again from the earth: a few only were reserved by god for another destiny. such was the origin of the earthborn men. 'and is this cycle, of which you are speaking, the reign of cronos, or our present state of existence?' no, socrates, that blessed and spontaneous life belongs not to this, but to the previous state, in which god was the governor of the whole world, and other gods subject to him ruled over parts of the world, as is still the case in certain places. they were shepherds of men and animals, each of them sufficing for those of whom he had the care. and there was no violence among them, or war, or devouring of one another. their life was spontaneous, because in those days god ruled over man; and he was to man what man is now to the animals. under his government there were no estates, or private possessions, or families; but the earth produced a sufficiency of all things, and men were born out of the earth, having no traditions of the past; and as the temperature of the seasons was mild, they took no thought for raiment, and had no beds, but lived and dwelt in the open air. such was the age of cronos, and the age of zeus is our own. tell me, which is the happier of the two? or rather, shall i tell you that the happiness of these children of cronos must have depended on how they used their time? if having boundless leisure, and the power of discoursing not only with one another but with the animals, they had employed these advantages with a view to philosophy, gathering from every nature some addition to their store of knowledge;--or again, if they had merely eaten and drunk, and told stories to one another, and to the beasts;--in either case, i say, there would be no difficulty in answering the question. but as nobody knows which they did, the question must remain unanswered. and here is the point of my tale. in the fulness of time, when the earthborn men had all passed away, the ruler of the universe let go the helm, and became a spectator; and destiny and natural impulse swayed the world. at the same instant all the inferior deities gave up their hold; the whole universe rebounded, and there was a great earthquake, and utter ruin of all manner of animals. after a while the tumult ceased, and the universal creature settled down in his accustomed course, having authority over all other creatures, and following the instructions of his god and father, at first more precisely, afterwards with less exactness. the reason of the falling off was the disengagement of a former chaos; 'a muddy vesture of decay' was a part of his original nature, out of which he was brought by his creator, under whose immediate guidance, while he remained in that former cycle, the evil was minimized and the good increased to the utmost. and in the beginning of the new cycle all was well enough, but as time went on, discord entered in; at length the good was minimized and the evil everywhere diffused, and there was a danger of universal ruin. then the creator, seeing the world in great straits, and fearing that chaos and infinity would come again, in his tender care again placed himself at the helm and restored order, and made the world immortal and imperishable. once more the cycle of life and generation was reversed; the infants grew into young men, and the young men became greyheaded; no longer did the animals spring out of the earth; as the whole world was now lord of its own progress, so the parts were to be self-created and self-nourished. at first the case of men was very helpless and pitiable; for they were alone among the wild beasts, and had to carry on the struggle for existence without arts or knowledge, and had no food, and did not know how to get any. that was the time when prometheus brought them fire, hephaestus and athene taught them arts, and other gods gave them seeds and plants. out of these human life was framed; for mankind were left to themselves, and ordered their own ways, living, like the universe, in one cycle after one manner, and in another cycle after another manner. enough of the myth, which may show us two errors of which we were guilty in our account of the king. the first and grand error was in choosing for our king a god, who belongs to the other cycle, instead of a man from our own; there was a lesser error also in our failure to define the nature of the royal functions. the myth gave us only the image of a divine shepherd, whereas the statesmen and kings of our own day very much resemble their subjects in education and breeding. on retracing our steps we find that we gave too narrow a designation to the art which was concerned with command-for-self over living creatures, when we called it the 'feeding' of animals in flocks. this would apply to all shepherds, with the exception of the statesman; but if we say 'managing' or 'tending' animals, the term would include him as well. having remodelled the name, we may subdivide as before, first separating the human from the divine shepherd or manager. then we may subdivide the human art of governing into the government of willing and unwilling subjects--royalty and tyranny--which are the extreme opposites of one another, although we in our simplicity have hitherto confounded them. and yet the figure of the king is still defective. we have taken up a lump of fable, and have used more than we needed. like statuaries, we have made some of the features out of proportion, and shall lose time in reducing them. or our mythus may be compared to a picture, which is well drawn in outline, but is not yet enlivened by colour. and to intelligent persons language is, or ought to be, a better instrument of description than any picture. 'but what, stranger, is the deficiency of which you speak?' no higher truth can be made clear without an example; every man seems to know all things in a dream, and to know nothing when he is awake. and the nature of example can only be illustrated by an example. children are taught to read by being made to compare cases in which they do not know a certain letter with cases in which they know it, until they learn to recognize it in all its combinations. example comes into use when we identify something unknown with that which is known, and form a common notion of both of them. like the child who is learning his letters, the soul recognizes some of the first elements of things; and then again is at fault and unable to recognize them when they are translated into the difficult language of facts. let us, then, take an example, which will illustrate the nature of example, and will also assist us in characterizing the political science, and in separating the true king from his rivals. i will select the example of weaving, or, more precisely, weaving of wool. in the first place, all possessions are either productive or preventive; of the preventive sort are spells and antidotes, divine and human, and also defences, and defences are either arms or screens, and screens are veils and also shields against heat and cold, and shields against heat and cold are shelters and coverings, and coverings are blankets or garments, and garments are in one piece or have many parts; and of these latter, some are stitched and others are fastened, and of these again some are made of fibres of plants and some of hair, and of these some are cemented with water and earth, and some are fastened with their own material; the latter are called clothes, and are made by the art of clothing, from which the art of weaving differs only in name, as the political differs from the royal science. thus we have drawn several distinctions, but as yet have not distinguished the weaving of garments from the kindred and co-operative arts. for the first process to which the material is subjected is the opposite of weaving--i mean carding. and the art of carding, and the whole art of the fuller and the mender, are concerned with the treatment and production of clothes, as well as the art of weaving. again, there are the arts which make the weaver's tools. and if we say that the weaver's art is the greatest and noblest of those which have to do with woollen garments,--this, although true, is not sufficiently distinct; because these other arts require to be first cleared away. let us proceed, then, by regular steps:--there are causal or principal, and co-operative or subordinate arts. to the causal class belong the arts of washing and mending, of carding and spinning the threads, and the other arts of working in wool; these are chiefly of two kinds, falling under the two great categories of composition and division. carding is of the latter sort. but our concern is chiefly with that part of the art of wool-working which composes, and of which one kind twists and the other interlaces the threads, whether the firmer texture of the warp or the looser texture of the woof. these are adapted to each other, and the orderly composition of them forms a woollen garment. and the art which presides over these operations is the art of weaving. but why did we go through this circuitous process, instead of saying at once that weaving is the art of entwining the warp and the woof? in order that our labour may not seem to be lost, i must explain the whole nature of excess and defect. there are two arts of measuring--one is concerned with relative size, and the other has reference to a mean or standard of what is meet. the difference between good and evil is the difference between a mean or measure and excess or defect. all things require to be compared, not only with one another, but with the mean, without which there would be no beauty and no art, whether the art of the statesman or the art of weaving or any other; for all the arts guard against excess or defect, which are real evils. this we must endeavour to show, if the arts are to exist; and the proof of this will be a harder piece of work than the demonstration of the existence of not-being which we proved in our discussion about the sophist. at present i am content with the indirect proof that the existence of such a standard is necessary to the existence of the arts. the standard or measure, which we are now only applying to the arts, may be some day required with a view to the demonstration of absolute truth. we may now divide this art of measurement into two parts; placing in the one part all the arts which measure the relative size or number of objects, and in the other all those which depend upon a mean or standard. many accomplished men say that the art of measurement has to do with all things, but these persons, although in this notion of theirs they may very likely be right, are apt to fail in seeing the differences of classes--they jumble together in one the 'more' and the 'too much,' which are very different things. whereas the right way is to find the differences of classes, and to comprehend the things which have any affinity under the same class. i will make one more observation by the way. when a pupil at a school is asked the letters which make up a particular word, is he not asked with a view to his knowing the same letters in all words? and our enquiry about the statesman in like manner is intended not only to improve our knowledge of politics, but our reasoning powers generally. still less would any one analyze the nature of weaving for its own sake. there is no difficulty in exhibiting sensible images, but the greatest and noblest truths have no outward form adapted to the eye of sense, and are only revealed in thought. and all that we are now saying is said for the sake of them. i make these remarks, because i want you to get rid of any impression that our discussion about weaving and about the reversal of the universe, and the other discussion about the sophist and not-being, were tedious and irrelevant. please to observe that they can only be fairly judged when compared with what is meet; and yet not with what is meet for producing pleasure, nor even meet for making discoveries, but for the great end of developing the dialectical method and sharpening the wits of the auditors. he who censures us, should prove that, if our words had been fewer, they would have been better calculated to make men dialecticians. and now let us return to our king or statesman, and transfer to him the example of weaving. the royal art has been separated from that of other herdsmen, but not from the causal and co-operative arts which exist in states; these do not admit of dichotomy, and therefore they must be carved neatly, like the limbs of a victim, not into more parts than are necessary. and first ( ) we have the large class of instruments, which includes almost everything in the world; from these may be parted off ( ) vessels which are framed for the preservation of things, moist or dry, prepared in the fire or out of the fire. the royal or political art has nothing to do with either of these, any more than with the arts of making ( ) vehicles, or ( ) defences, whether dresses, or arms, or walls, or ( ) with the art of making ornaments, whether pictures or other playthings, as they may be fitly called, for they have no serious use. then ( ) there are the arts which furnish gold, silver, wood, bark, and other materials, which should have been put first; these, again, have no concern with the kingly science; any more than the arts ( ) which provide food and nourishment for the human body, and which furnish occupation to the husbandman, huntsman, doctor, cook, and the like, but not to the king or statesman. further, there are small things, such as coins, seals, stamps, which may with a little violence be comprehended in one of the above-mentioned classes. thus they will embrace every species of property with the exception of animals,--but these have been already included in the art of tending herds. there remains only the class of slaves or ministers, among whom i expect that the real rivals of the king will be discovered. i am not speaking of the veritable slave bought with money, nor of the hireling who lets himself out for service, nor of the trader or merchant, who at best can only lay claim to economical and not to royal science. nor am i referring to government officials, such as heralds and scribes, for these are only the servants of the rulers, and not the rulers themselves. i admit that there may be something strange in any servants pretending to be masters, but i hardly think that i could have been wrong in supposing that the principal claimants to the throne will be of this class. let us try once more: there are diviners and priests, who are full of pride and prerogative; these, as the law declares, know how to give acceptable gifts to the gods, and in many parts of hellas the duty of performing solemn sacrifices is assigned to the chief magistrate, as at athens to the king archon. at last, then, we have found a trace of those whom we were seeking. but still they are only servants and ministers. and who are these who next come into view in various forms of men and animals and other monsters appearing--lions and centaurs and satyrs--who are these? i did not know them at first, for every one looks strange when he is unexpected. but now i recognize the politician and his troop, the chief of sophists, the prince of charlatans, the most accomplished of wizards, who must be carefully distinguished from the true king or statesman. and here i will interpose a question: what are the true forms of government? are they not three--monarchy, oligarchy, and democracy? and the distinctions of freedom and compulsion, law and no law, poverty and riches expand these three into six. monarchy may be divided into royalty and tyranny; oligarchy into aristocracy and plutocracy; and democracy may observe the law or may not observe it. but are any of these governments worthy of the name? is not government a science, and are we to suppose that scientific government is secured by the rulers being many or few, rich or poor, or by the rule being compulsory or voluntary? can the many attain to science? in no hellenic city are there fifty good draught players, and certainly there are not as many kings, for by kings we mean all those who are possessed of the political science. a true government must therefore be the government of one, or of a few. and they may govern us either with or without law, and whether they are poor or rich, and however they govern, provided they govern on some scientific principle,--it makes no difference. and as the physician may cure us with our will, or against our will, and by any mode of treatment, burning, bleeding, lowering, fattening, if he only proceeds scientifically: so the true governor may reduce or fatten or bleed the body corporate, while he acts according to the rules of his art, and with a view to the good of the state, whether according to law or without law. 'i do not like the notion, that there can be good government without law.' i must explain: law-making certainly is the business of a king; and yet the best thing of all is, not that the law should rule, but that the king should rule, for the varieties of circumstances are endless, and no simple or universal rule can suit them all, or last for ever. the law is just an ignorant brute of a tyrant, who insists always on his commands being fulfilled under all circumstances. 'then why have we laws at all?' i will answer that question by asking you whether the training master gives a different discipline to each of his pupils, or whether he has a general rule of diet and exercise which is suited to the constitutions of the majority? 'the latter.' the legislator, too, is obliged to lay down general laws, and cannot enact what is precisely suitable to each particular case. he cannot be sitting at every man's side all his life, and prescribe for him the minute particulars of his duty, and therefore he is compelled to impose on himself and others the restriction of a written law. let me suppose now, that a physician or trainer, having left directions for his patients or pupils, goes into a far country, and comes back sooner than he intended; owing to some unexpected change in the weather, the patient or pupil seems to require a different mode of treatment: would he persist in his old commands, under the idea that all others are noxious and heterodox? viewed in the light of science, would not the continuance of such regulations be ridiculous? and if the legislator, or another like him, comes back from a far country, is he to be prohibited from altering his own laws? the common people say: let a man persuade the city first, and then let him impose new laws. but is a physician only to cure his patients by persuasion, and not by force? is he a worse physician who uses a little gentle violence in effecting the cure? or shall we say, that the violence is just, if exercised by a rich man, and unjust, if by a poor man? may not any man, rich or poor, with or without law, and whether the citizens like or not, do what is for their good? the pilot saves the lives of the crew, not by laying down rules, but by making his art a law, and, like him, the true governor has a strength of art which is superior to the law. this is scientific government, and all others are imitations only. yet no great number of persons can attain to this science. and hence follows an important result. the true political principle is to assert the inviolability of the law, which, though not the best thing possible, is best for the imperfect condition of man. i will explain my meaning by an illustration:--suppose that mankind, indignant at the rogueries and caprices of physicians and pilots, call together an assembly, in which all who like may speak, the skilled as well as the unskilled, and that in their assembly they make decrees for regulating the practice of navigation and medicine which are to be binding on these professions for all time. suppose that they elect annually by vote or lot those to whom authority in either department is to be delegated. and let us further imagine, that when the term of their magistracy has expired, the magistrates appointed by them are summoned before an ignorant and unprofessional court, and may be condemned and punished for breaking the regulations. they even go a step further, and enact, that he who is found enquiring into the truth of navigation and medicine, and is seeking to be wise above what is written, shall be called not an artist, but a dreamer, a prating sophist and a corruptor of youth; and if he try to persuade others to investigate those sciences in a manner contrary to the law, he shall be punished with the utmost severity. and like rules might be extended to any art or science. but what would be the consequence? 'the arts would utterly perish, and human life, which is bad enough already, would become intolerable.' but suppose, once more, that we were to appoint some one as the guardian of the law, who was both ignorant and interested, and who perverted the law: would not this be a still worse evil than the other? 'certainly.' for the laws are based on some experience and wisdom. hence the wiser course is, that they should be observed, although this is not the best thing of all, but only the second best. and whoever, having skill, should try to improve them, would act in the spirit of the law-giver. but then, as we have seen, no great number of men, whether poor or rich, can be makers of laws. and so, the nearest approach to true government is, when men do nothing contrary to their own written laws and national customs. when the rich preserve their customs and maintain the law, this is called aristocracy, or if they neglect the law, oligarchy. when an individual rules according to law, whether by the help of science or opinion, this is called monarchy; and when he has royal science he is a king, whether he be so in fact or not; but when he rules in spite of law, and is blind with ignorance and passion, he is called a tyrant. these forms of government exist, because men despair of the true king ever appearing among them; if he were to appear, they would joyfully hand over to him the reins of government. but, as there is no natural ruler of the hive, they meet together and make laws. and do we wonder, when the foundation of politics is in the letter only, at the miseries of states? ought we not rather to admire the strength of the political bond? for cities have endured the worst of evils time out of mind; many cities have been shipwrecked, and some are like ships foundering, because their pilots are absolutely ignorant of the science which they profess. let us next ask, which of these untrue forms of government is the least bad, and which of them is the worst? i said at the beginning, that each of the three forms of government, royalty, aristocracy, and democracy, might be divided into two, so that the whole number of them, including the best, will be seven. under monarchy we have already distinguished royalty and tyranny; of oligarchy there were two kinds, aristocracy and plutocracy; and democracy may also be divided, for there is a democracy which observes, and a democracy which neglects, the laws. the government of one is the best and the worst--the government of a few is less bad and less good--the government of the many is the least bad and least good of them all, being the best of all lawless governments, and the worst of all lawful ones. but the rulers of all these states, unless they have knowledge, are maintainers of idols, and themselves idols--wizards, and also sophists; for, after many windings, the term 'sophist' comes home to them. and now enough of centaurs and satyrs: the play is ended, and they may quit the political stage. still there remain some other and better elements, which adhere to the royal science, and must be drawn off in the refiner's fire before the gold can become quite pure. the arts of the general, the judge, and the orator, will have to be separated from the royal art; when the separation has been made, the nature of the king will be unalloyed. now there are inferior sciences, such as music and others; and there is a superior science, which determines whether music is to be learnt or not, and this is different from them, and the governor of them. the science which determines whether we are to use persuasion, or not, is higher than the art of persuasion; the science which determines whether we are to go to war, is higher than the art of the general. the science which makes the laws, is higher than that which only administers them. and the science which has this authority over the rest, is the science of the king or statesman. once more we will endeavour to view this royal science by the light of our example. we may compare the state to a web, and i will show you how the different threads are drawn into one. you would admit--would you not?--that there are parts of virtue (although this position is sometimes assailed by eristics), and one part of virtue is temperance, and another courage. these are two principles which are in a manner antagonistic to one another; and they pervade all nature; the whole class of the good and beautiful is included under them. the beautiful may be subdivided into two lesser classes: one of these is described by us in terms expressive of motion or energy, and the other in terms expressive of rest and quietness. we say, how manly! how vigorous! how ready! and we say also, how calm! how temperate! how dignified! this opposition of terms is extended by us to all actions, to the tones of the voice, the notes of music, the workings of the mind, the characters of men. the two classes both have their exaggerations; and the exaggerations of the one are termed 'hardness,' 'violence,' 'madness;' of the other 'cowardliness,' or 'sluggishness.' and if we pursue the enquiry, we find that these opposite characters are naturally at variance, and can hardly be reconciled. in lesser matters the antagonism between them is ludicrous, but in the state may be the occasion of grave disorders, and may disturb the whole course of human life. for the orderly class are always wanting to be at peace, and hence they pass imperceptibly into the condition of slaves; and the courageous sort are always wanting to go to war, even when the odds are against them, and are soon destroyed by their enemies. but the true art of government, first preparing the material by education, weaves the two elements into one, maintaining authority over the carders of the wool, and selecting the proper subsidiary arts which are necessary for making the web. the royal science is queen of educators, and begins by choosing the natures which she is to train, punishing with death and exterminating those who are violently carried away to atheism and injustice, and enslaving those who are wallowing in the mire of ignorance. the rest of the citizens she blends into one, combining the stronger element of courage, which we may call the warp, with the softer element of temperance, which we may imagine to be the woof. these she binds together, first taking the eternal elements of the honourable, the good, and the just, and fastening them with a divine cord in a heaven-born nature, and then fastening the animal elements with a human cord. the good legislator can implant by education the higher principles; and where they exist there is no difficulty in inserting the lesser human bonds, by which the state is held together; these are the laws of intermarriage, and of union for the sake of offspring. most persons in their marriages seek after wealth or power; or they are clannish, and choose those who are like themselves,--the temperate marrying the temperate, and the courageous the courageous. the two classes thrive and flourish at first, but they soon degenerate; the one become mad, and the other feeble and useless. this would not have been the case, if they had both originally held the same notions about the honourable and the good; for then they never would have allowed the temperate natures to be separated from the courageous, but they would have bound them together by common honours and reputations, by intermarriages, and by the choice of rulers who combine both qualities. the temperate are careful and just, but are wanting in the power of action; the courageous fall short of them in justice, but in action are superior to them: and no state can prosper in which either of these qualities is wanting. the noblest and best of all webs or states is that which the royal science weaves, combining the two sorts of natures in a single texture, and in this enfolding freeman and slave and every other social element, and presiding over them all. 'your picture, stranger, of the king and statesman, no less than of the sophist, is quite perfect.' ... the principal subjects in the statesman may be conveniently embraced under six or seven heads:--( ) the myth; ( ) the dialectical interest; ( ) the political aspects of the dialogue; ( ) the satirical and paradoxical vein; ( ) the necessary imperfection of law; ( ) the relation of the work to the other writings of plato; lastly ( ), we may briefly consider the genuineness of the sophist and statesman, which can hardly be assumed without proof, since the two dialogues have been questioned by three such eminent platonic scholars as socher, schaarschmidt, and ueberweg. i. the hand of the master is clearly visible in the myth. first in the connection with mythology;--he wins a kind of verisimilitude for this as for his other myths, by adopting received traditions, of which he pretends to find an explanation in his own larger conception (compare introduction to critias). the young socrates has heard of the sun rising in the west and setting in the east, and of the earth-born men; but he has never heard the origin of these remarkable phenomena. nor is plato, here or elsewhere, wanting in denunciations of the incredulity of 'this latter age,' on which the lovers of the marvellous have always delighted to enlarge. and he is not without express testimony to the truth of his narrative;--such testimony as, in the timaeus, the first men gave of the names of the gods ('they must surely have known their own ancestors'). for the first generation of the new cycle, who lived near the time, are supposed to have preserved a recollection of a previous one. he also appeals to internal evidence, viz. the perfect coherence of the tale, though he is very well aware, as he says in the cratylus, that there may be consistency in error as well as in truth. the gravity and minuteness with which some particulars are related also lend an artful aid. the profound interest and ready assent of the young socrates, who is not too old to be amused 'with a tale which a child would love to hear,' are a further assistance. to those who were naturally inclined to believe that the fortunes of mankind are influenced by the stars, or who maintained that some one principle, like the principle of the same and the other in the timaeus, pervades all things in the world, the reversal of the motion of the heavens seemed necessarily to produce a reversal of the order of human life. the spheres of knowledge, which to us appear wide asunder as the poles, astronomy and medicine, were naturally connected in the minds of early thinkers, because there was little or nothing in the space between them. thus there is a basis of philosophy, on which the improbabilities of the tale may be said to rest. these are some of the devices by which plato, like a modern novelist, seeks to familiarize the marvellous. the myth, like that of the timaeus and critias, is rather historical than poetical, in this respect corresponding to the general change in the later writings of plato, when compared with the earlier ones. it is hardly a myth in the sense in which the term might be applied to the myth of the phaedrus, the republic, the phaedo, or the gorgias, but may be more aptly compared with the didactic tale in which protagoras describes the fortunes of primitive man, or with the description of the gradual rise of a new society in the third book of the laws. some discrepancies may be observed between the mythology of the statesman and the timaeus, and between the timaeus and the republic. but there is no reason to expect that all plato's visions of a former, any more than of a future, state of existence, should conform exactly to the same pattern. we do not find perfect consistency in his philosophy; and still less have we any right to demand this of him in his use of mythology and figures of speech. and we observe that while employing all the resources of a writer of fiction to give credibility to his tales, he is not disposed to insist upon their literal truth. rather, as in the phaedo, he says, 'something of the kind is true;' or, as in the gorgias, 'this you will think to be an old wife's tale, but you can think of nothing truer;' or, as in the statesman, he describes his work as a 'mass of mythology,' which was introduced in order to teach certain lessons; or, as in the phaedrus, he secretly laughs at such stories while refusing to disturb the popular belief in them. the greater interest of the myth consists in the philosophical lessons which plato presents to us in this veiled form. here, as in the tale of er, the son of armenius, he touches upon the question of freedom and necessity, both in relation to god and nature. for at first the universe is governed by the immediate providence of god,--this is the golden age,--but after a while the wheel is reversed, and man is left to himself. like other theologians and philosophers, plato relegates his explanation of the problem to a transcendental world; he speaks of what in modern language might be termed 'impossibilities in the nature of things,' hindering god from continuing immanent in the world. but there is some inconsistency; for the 'letting go' is spoken of as a divine act, and is at the same time attributed to the necessary imperfection of matter; there is also a numerical necessity for the successive births of souls. at first, man and the world retain their divine instincts, but gradually degenerate. as in the book of genesis, the first fall of man is succeeded by a second; the misery and wickedness of the world increase continually. the reason of this further decline is supposed to be the disorganisation of matter: the latent seeds of a former chaos are disengaged, and envelope all things. the condition of man becomes more and more miserable; he is perpetually waging an unequal warfare with the beasts. at length he obtains such a measure of education and help as is necessary for his existence. though deprived of god's help, he is not left wholly destitute; he has received from athene and hephaestus a knowledge of the arts; other gods give him seeds and plants; and out of these human life is reconstructed. he now eats bread in the sweat of his brow, and has dominion over the animals, subjected to the conditions of his nature, and yet able to cope with them by divine help. thus plato may be said to represent in a figure--( ) the state of innocence; ( ) the fall of man; ( ) the still deeper decline into barbarism; ( ) the restoration of man by the partial interference of god, and the natural growth of the arts and of civilised society. two lesser features of this description should not pass unnoticed:--( ) the primitive men are supposed to be created out of the earth, and not after the ordinary manner of human generation--half the causes of moral evil are in this way removed; ( ) the arts are attributed to a divine revelation: and so the greatest difficulty in the history of pre-historic man is solved. though no one knew better than plato that the introduction of the gods is not a reason, but an excuse for not giving a reason (cratylus), yet, considering that more than two thousand years later mankind are still discussing these problems, we may be satisfied to find in plato a statement of the difficulties which arise in conceiving the relation of man to god and nature, without expecting to obtain from him a solution of them. in such a tale, as in the phaedrus, various aspects of the ideas were doubtless indicated to plato's own mind, as the corresponding theological problems are to us. the immanence of things in the ideas, or the partial separation of them, and the self-motion of the supreme idea, are probably the forms in which he would have interpreted his own parable. he touches upon another question of great interest--the consciousness of evil--what in the jewish scriptures is called 'eating of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.' at the end of the narrative, the eleatic asks his companion whether this life of innocence, or that which men live at present, is the better of the two. he wants to distinguish between the mere animal life of innocence, the 'city of pigs,' as it is comically termed by glaucon in the republic, and the higher life of reason and philosophy. but as no one can determine the state of man in the world before the fall, 'the question must remain unanswered.' similar questions have occupied the minds of theologians in later ages; but they can hardly be said to have found an answer. professor campbell well observes, that the general spirit of the myth may be summed up in the words of the lysis: 'if evil were to perish, should we hunger any more, or thirst any more, or have any similar sensations? yet perhaps the question what will or will not be is a foolish one, for who can tell?' as in the theaetetus, evil is supposed to continue,--here, as the consequence of a former state of the world, a sort of mephitic vapour exhaling from some ancient chaos,--there, as involved in the possibility of good, and incident to the mixed state of man. once more--and this is the point of connexion with the rest of the dialogue--the myth is intended to bring out the difference between the ideal and the actual state of man. in all ages of the world men have dreamed of a state of perfection, which has been, and is to be, but never is, and seems to disappear under the necessary conditions of human society. the uselessness, the danger, the true value of such political ideals have often been discussed; youth is too ready to believe in them; age to disparage them. plato's 'prudens quaestio' respecting the comparative happiness of men in this and in a former cycle of existence is intended to elicit this contrast between the golden age and 'the life under zeus' which is our own. to confuse the divine and human, or hastily apply one to the other, is a 'tremendous error.' of the ideal or divine government of the world we can form no true or adequate conception; and this our mixed state of life, in which we are partly left to ourselves, but not wholly deserted by the gods, may contain some higher elements of good and knowledge than could have existed in the days of innocence under the rule of cronos. so we may venture slightly to enlarge a platonic thought which admits of a further application to christian theology. here are suggested also the distinctions between god causing and permitting evil, and between his more and less immediate government of the world. ii. the dialectical interest of the statesman seems to contend in plato's mind with the political; the dialogue might have been designated by two equally descriptive titles--either the 'statesman,' or 'concerning method.' dialectic, which in the earlier writings of plato is a revival of the socratic question and answer applied to definition, is now occupied with classification; there is nothing in which he takes greater delight than in processes of division (compare phaedr.); he pursues them to a length out of proportion to his main subject, and appears to value them as a dialectical exercise, and for their own sake. a poetical vision of some order or hierarchy of ideas or sciences has already been floating before us in the symposium and the republic. and in the phaedrus this aspect of dialectic is further sketched out, and the art of rhetoric is based on the division of the characters of mankind into their several classes. the same love of divisions is apparent in the gorgias. but in a well-known passage of the philebus occurs the first criticism on the nature of classification. there we are exhorted not to fall into the common error of passing from unity to infinity, but to find the intermediate classes; and we are reminded that in any process of generalization, there may be more than one class to which individuals may be referred, and that we must carry on the process of division until we have arrived at the infima species. these precepts are not forgotten, either in the sophist or in the statesman. the sophist contains four examples of division, carried on by regular steps, until in four different lines of descent we detect the sophist. in the statesman the king or statesman is discovered by a similar process; and we have a summary, probably made for the first time, of possessions appropriated by the labour of man, which are distributed into seven classes. we are warned against preferring the shorter to the longer method;--if we divide in the middle, we are most likely to light upon species; at the same time, the important remark is made, that 'a part is not to be confounded with a class.' having discovered the genus under which the king falls, we proceed to distinguish him from the collateral species. to assist our imagination in making this separation, we require an example. the higher ideas, of which we have a dreamy knowledge, can only be represented by images taken from the external world. but, first of all, the nature of example is explained by an example. the child is taught to read by comparing the letters in words which he knows with the same letters in unknown combinations; and this is the sort of process which we are about to attempt. as a parallel to the king we select the worker in wool, and compare the art of weaving with the royal science, trying to separate either of them from the inferior classes to which they are akin. this has the incidental advantage, that weaving and the web furnish us with a figure of speech, which we can afterwards transfer to the state. there are two uses of examples or images--in the first place, they suggest thoughts--secondly, they give them a distinct form. in the infancy of philosophy, as in childhood, the language of pictures is natural to man: truth in the abstract is hardly won, and only by use familiarized to the mind. examples are akin to analogies, and have a reflex influence on thought; they people the vacant mind, and may often originate new directions of enquiry. plato seems to be conscious of the suggestiveness of imagery; the general analogy of the arts is constantly employed by him as well as the comparison of particular arts--weaving, the refining of gold, the learning to read, music, statuary, painting, medicine, the art of the pilot--all of which occur in this dialogue alone: though he is also aware that 'comparisons are slippery things,' and may often give a false clearness to ideas. we shall find, in the philebus, a division of sciences into practical and speculative, and into more or less speculative: here we have the idea of master-arts, or sciences which control inferior ones. besides the supreme science of dialectic, 'which will forget us, if we forget her,' another master-science for the first time appears in view--the science of government, which fixes the limits of all the rest. this conception of the political or royal science as, from another point of view, the science of sciences, which holds sway over the rest, is not originally found in aristotle, but in plato. the doctrine that virtue and art are in a mean, which is familiarized to us by the study of the nicomachean ethics, is also first distinctly asserted in the statesman of plato. the too much and the too little are in restless motion: they must be fixed by a mean, which is also a standard external to them. the art of measuring or finding a mean between excess and defect, like the principle of division in the phaedrus, receives a particular application to the art of discourse. the excessive length of a discourse may be blamed; but who can say what is excess, unless he is furnished with a measure or standard? measure is the life of the arts, and may some day be discovered to be the single ultimate principle in which all the sciences are contained. other forms of thought may be noted--the distinction between causal and co-operative arts, which may be compared with the distinction between primary and co-operative causes in the timaeus; or between cause and condition in the phaedo; the passing mention of economical science; the opposition of rest and motion, which is found in all nature; the general conception of two great arts of composition and division, in which are contained weaving, politics, dialectic; and in connexion with the conception of a mean, the two arts of measuring. in the theaetetus, plato remarks that precision in the use of terms, though sometimes pedantic, is sometimes necessary. here he makes the opposite reflection, that there may be a philosophical disregard of words. the evil of mere verbal oppositions, the requirement of an impossible accuracy in the use of terms, the error of supposing that philosophy was to be found in language, the danger of word-catching, have frequently been discussed by him in the previous dialogues, but nowhere has the spirit of modern inductive philosophy been more happily indicated than in the words of the statesman:--'if you think more about things, and less about words, you will be richer in wisdom as you grow older.' a similar spirit is discernible in the remarkable expressions, 'the long and difficult language of facts;' and 'the interrogation of every nature, in order to obtain the particular contribution of each to the store of knowledge.' who has described 'the feeble intelligence of all things; given by metaphysics better than the eleatic stranger in the words--'the higher ideas can hardly be set forth except through the medium of examples; every man seems to know all things in a kind of dream, and then again nothing when he is awake?' or where is the value of metaphysical pursuits more truly expressed than in the words,--'the greatest and noblest things have no outward image of themselves visible to man: therefore we should learn to give a rational account of them?' iii. the political aspects of the dialogue are closely connected with the dialectical. as in the cratylus, the legislator has 'the dialectician standing on his right hand;' so in the statesman, the king or statesman is the dialectician, who, although he may be in a private station, is still a king. whether he has the power or not, is a mere accident; or rather he has the power, for what ought to be is ('was ist vernunftig, das ist wirklich'); and he ought to be and is the true governor of mankind. there is a reflection in this idealism of the socratic 'virtue is knowledge;' and, without idealism, we may remark that knowledge is a great part of power. plato does not trouble himself to construct a machinery by which 'philosophers shall be made kings,' as in the republic: he merely holds up the ideal, and affirms that in some sense science is really supreme over human life. he is struck by the observation 'quam parva sapientia regitur mundus,' and is touched with a feeling of the ills which afflict states. the condition of megara before and during the peloponnesian war, of athens under the thirty and afterwards, of syracuse and the other sicilian cities in their alternations of democratic excess and tyranny, might naturally suggest such reflections. some states he sees already shipwrecked, others foundering for want of a pilot; and he wonders not at their destruction, but at their endurance. for they ought to have perished long ago, if they had depended on the wisdom of their rulers. the mingled pathos and satire of this remark is characteristic of plato's later style. the king is the personification of political science. and yet he is something more than this,--the perfectly good and wise tyrant of the laws, whose will is better than any law. he is the special providence who is always interfering with and regulating all things. such a conception has sometimes been entertained by modern theologians, and by plato himself, of the supreme being. but whether applied to divine or to human governors the conception is faulty for two reasons, neither of which are noticed by plato:--first, because all good government supposes a degree of co-operation in the ruler and his subjects,--an 'education in politics' as well as in moral virtue; secondly, because government, whether divine or human, implies that the subject has a previous knowledge of the rules under which he is living. there is a fallacy, too, in comparing unchangeable laws with a personal governor. for the law need not necessarily be an 'ignorant and brutal tyrant,' but gentle and humane, capable of being altered in the spirit of the legislator, and of being administered so as to meet the cases of individuals. not only in fact, but in idea, both elements must remain--the fixed law and the living will; the written word and the spirit; the principles of obligation and of freedom; and their applications whether made by law or equity in particular cases. there are two sides from which positive laws may be attacked:--either from the side of nature, which rises up and rebels against them in the spirit of callicles in the gorgias; or from the side of idealism, which attempts to soar above them,--and this is the spirit of plato in the statesman. but he soon falls, like icarus, and is content to walk instead of flying; that is, to accommodate himself to the actual state of human things. mankind have long been in despair of finding the true ruler; and therefore are ready to acquiesce in any of the five or six received forms of government as better than none. and the best thing which they can do (though only the second best in reality), is to reduce the ideal state to the conditions of actual life. thus in the statesman, as in the laws, we have three forms of government, which we may venture to term, ( ) the ideal, ( ) the practical, ( ) the sophistical--what ought to be, what might be, what is. and thus plato seems to stumble, almost by accident, on the notion of a constitutional monarchy, or of a monarchy ruling by laws. the divine foundations of a state are to be laid deep in education (republic), and at the same time some little violence may be used in exterminating natures which are incapable of education (compare laws). plato is strongly of opinion that the legislator, like the physician, may do men good against their will (compare gorgias). the human bonds of states are formed by the inter-marriage of dispositions adapted to supply the defects of each other. as in the republic, plato has observed that there are opposite natures in the world, the strong and the gentle, the courageous and the temperate, which, borrowing an expression derived from the image of weaving, he calls the warp and the woof of human society. to interlace these is the crowning achievement of political science. in the protagoras, socrates was maintaining that there was only one virtue, and not many: now plato is inclined to think that there are not only parallel, but opposite virtues, and seems to see a similar opposition pervading all art and nature. but he is satisfied with laying down the principle, and does not inform us by what further steps the union of opposites is to be effected. in the loose framework of a single dialogue plato has thus combined two distinct subjects--politics and method. yet they are not so far apart as they appear: in his own mind there was a secret link of connexion between them. for the philosopher or dialectician is also the only true king or statesman. in the execution of his plan plato has invented or distinguished several important forms of thought, and made incidentally many valuable remarks. questions of interest both in ancient and modern politics also arise in the course of the dialogue, which may with advantage be further considered by us:-- a. the imaginary ruler, whether god or man, is above the law, and is a law to himself and to others. among the greeks as among the jews, law was a sacred name, the gift of god, the bond of states. but in the statesman of plato, as in the new testament, the word has also become the symbol of an imperfect good, which is almost an evil. the law sacrifices the individual to the universal, and is the tyranny of the many over the few (compare republic). it has fixed rules which are the props of order, and will not swerve or bend in extreme cases. it is the beginning of political society, but there is something higher--an intelligent ruler, whether god or man, who is able to adapt himself to the endless varieties of circumstances. plato is fond of picturing the advantages which would result from the union of the tyrant who has power with the legislator who has wisdom: he regards this as the best and speediest way of reforming mankind. but institutions cannot thus be artificially created, nor can the external authority of a ruler impose laws for which a nation is unprepared. the greatest power, the highest wisdom, can only proceed one or two steps in advance of public opinion. in all stages of civilization human nature, after all our efforts, remains intractable,--not like clay in the hands of the potter, or marble under the chisel of the sculptor. great changes occur in the history of nations, but they are brought about slowly, like the changes in the frame of nature, upon which the puny arm of man hardly makes an impression. and, speaking generally, the slowest growths, both in nature and in politics, are the most permanent. b. whether the best form of the ideal is a person or a law may fairly be doubted. the former is more akin to us: it clothes itself in poetry and art, and appeals to reason more in the form of feeling: in the latter there is less danger of allowing ourselves to be deluded by a figure of speech. the ideal of the greek state found an expression in the deification of law: the ancient stoic spoke of a wise man perfect in virtue, who was fancifully said to be a king; but neither they nor plato had arrived at the conception of a person who was also a law. nor is it easy for the christian to think of god as wisdom, truth, holiness, and also as the wise, true, and holy one. he is always wanting to break through the abstraction and interrupt the law, in order that he may present to himself the more familiar image of a divine friend. while the impersonal has too slender a hold upon the affections to be made the basis of religion, the conception of a person on the other hand tends to degenerate into a new kind of idolatry. neither criticism nor experience allows us to suppose that there are interferences with the laws of nature; the idea is inconceivable to us and at variance with facts. the philosopher or theologian who could realize to mankind that a person is a law, that the higher rule has no exception, that goodness, like knowledge, is also power, would breathe a new religious life into the world. c. besides the imaginary rule of a philosopher or a god, the actual forms of government have to be considered. in the infancy of political science, men naturally ask whether the rule of the many or of the few is to be preferred. if by 'the few' we mean 'the good' and by 'the many,' 'the bad,' there can be but one reply: 'the rule of one good man is better than the rule of all the rest, if they are bad.' for, as heracleitus says, 'one is ten thousand if he be the best.' if, however, we mean by the rule of the few the rule of a class neither better nor worse than other classes, not devoid of a feeling of right, but guided mostly by a sense of their own interests, and by the rule of the many the rule of all classes, similarly under the influence of mixed motives, no one would hesitate to answer--'the rule of all rather than one, because all classes are more likely to take care of all than one of another; and the government has greater power and stability when resting on a wider basis.' both in ancient and modern times the best balanced form of government has been held to be the best; and yet it should not be so nicely balanced as to make action and movement impossible. the statesman who builds his hope upon the aristocracy, upon the middle classes, upon the people, will probably, if he have sufficient experience of them, conclude that all classes are much alike, and that one is as good as another, and that the liberties of no class are safe in the hands of the rest. the higher ranks have the advantage in education and manners, the middle and lower in industry and self-denial; in every class, to a certain extent, a natural sense of right prevails, sometimes communicated from the lower to the higher, sometimes from the higher to the lower, which is too strong for class interests. there have been crises in the history of nations, as at the time of the crusades or the reformation, or the french revolution, when the same inspiration has taken hold of whole peoples, and permanently raised the sense of freedom and justice among mankind. but even supposing the different classes of a nation, when viewed impartially, to be on a level with each other in moral virtue, there remain two considerations of opposite kinds which enter into the problem of government. admitting of course that the upper and lower classes are equal in the eye of god and of the law, yet the one may be by nature fitted to govern and the other to be governed. a ruling caste does not soon altogether lose the governing qualities, nor a subject class easily acquire them. hence the phenomenon so often observed in the old greek revolutions, and not without parallel in modern times, that the leaders of the democracy have been themselves of aristocratic origin. the people are expecting to be governed by representatives of their own, but the true man of the people either never appears, or is quickly altered by circumstances. their real wishes hardly make themselves felt, although their lower interests and prejudices may sometimes be flattered and yielded to for the sake of ulterior objects by those who have political power. they will often learn by experience that the democracy has become a plutocracy. the influence of wealth, though not the enjoyment of it, has become diffused among the poor as well as among the rich; and society, instead of being safer, is more at the mercy of the tyrant, who, when things are at the worst, obtains a guard--that is, an army--and announces himself as the saviour. the other consideration is of an opposite kind. admitting that a few wise men are likely to be better governors than the unwise many, yet it is not in their power to fashion an entire people according to their behest. when with the best intentions the benevolent despot begins his regime, he finds the world hard to move. a succession of good kings has at the end of a century left the people an inert and unchanged mass. the roman world was not permanently improved by the hundred years of hadrian and the antonines. the kings of spain during the last century were at least equal to any contemporary sovereigns in virtue and ability. in certain states of the world the means are wanting to render a benevolent power effectual. these means are not a mere external organisation of posts or telegraphs, hardly the introduction of new laws or modes of industry. a change must be made in the spirit of a people as well as in their externals. the ancient legislator did not really take a blank tablet and inscribe upon it the rules which reflection and experience had taught him to be for a nation's interest; no one would have obeyed him if he had. but he took the customs which he found already existing in a half-civilised state of society: these he reduced to form and inscribed on pillars; he defined what had before been undefined, and gave certainty to what was uncertain. no legislation ever sprang, like athene, in full power out of the head either of god or man. plato and aristotle are sensible of the difficulty of combining the wisdom of the few with the power of the many. according to plato, he is a physician who has the knowledge of a physician, and he is a king who has the knowledge of a king. but how the king, one or more, is to obtain the required power, is hardly at all considered by him. he presents the idea of a perfect government, but except the regulation for mixing different tempers in marriage, he never makes any provision for the attainment of it. aristotle, casting aside ideals, would place the government in a middle class of citizens, sufficiently numerous for stability, without admitting the populace; and such appears to have been the constitution which actually prevailed for a short time at athens--the rule of the five thousand--characterized by thucydides as the best government of athens which he had known. it may however be doubted how far, either in a greek or modern state, such a limitation is practicable or desirable; for those who are left outside the pale will always be dangerous to those who are within, while on the other hand the leaven of the mob can hardly affect the representation of a great country. there is reason for the argument in favour of a property qualification; there is reason also in the arguments of those who would include all and so exhaust the political situation. the true answer to the question is relative to the circumstances of nations. how can we get the greatest intelligence combined with the greatest power? the ancient legislator would have found this question more easy than we do. for he would have required that all persons who had a share of government should have received their education from the state and have borne her burdens, and should have served in her fleets and armies. but though we sometimes hear the cry that we must 'educate the masses, for they are our masters,' who would listen to a proposal that the franchise should be confined to the educated or to those who fulfil political duties? then again, we know that the masses are not our masters, and that they are more likely to become so if we educate them. in modern politics so many interests have to be consulted that we are compelled to do, not what is best, but what is possible. d. law is the first principle of society, but it cannot supply all the wants of society, and may easily cause more evils than it cures. plato is aware of the imperfection of law in failing to meet the varieties of circumstances: he is also aware that human life would be intolerable if every detail of it were placed under legal regulation. it may be a great evil that physicians should kill their patients or captains cast away their ships, but it would be a far greater evil if each particular in the practice of medicine or seamanship were regulated by law. much has been said in modern times about the duty of leaving men to themselves, which is supposed to be the best way of taking care of them. the question is often asked, what are the limits of legislation in relation to morals? and the answer is to the same effect, that morals must take care of themselves. there is a one-sided truth in these answers, if they are regarded as condemnations of the interference with commerce in the last century or of clerical persecution in the middle ages. but 'laissez-faire' is not the best but only the second best. what the best is, plato does not attempt to determine; he only contrasts the imperfection of law with the wisdom of the perfect ruler. laws should be just, but they must also be certain, and we are obliged to sacrifice something of their justice to their certainty. suppose a wise and good judge, who paying little or no regard to the law, attempted to decide with perfect justice the cases that were brought before him. to the uneducated person he would appear to be the ideal of a judge. such justice has been often exercised in primitive times, or at the present day among eastern rulers. but in the first place it depends entirely on the personal character of the judge. he may be honest, but there is no check upon his dishonesty, and his opinion can only be overruled, not by any principle of law, but by the opinion of another judging like himself without law. in the second place, even if he be ever so honest, his mode of deciding questions would introduce an element of uncertainty into human life; no one would know beforehand what would happen to him, or would seek to conform in his conduct to any rule of law. for the compact which the law makes with men, that they shall be protected if they observe the law in their dealings with one another, would have to be substituted another principle of a more general character, that they shall be protected by the law if they act rightly in their dealings with one another. the complexity of human actions and also the uncertainty of their effects would be increased tenfold. for one of the principal advantages of law is not merely that it enforces honesty, but that it makes men act in the same way, and requires them to produce the same evidence of their acts. too many laws may be the sign of a corrupt and overcivilized state of society, too few are the sign of an uncivilized one; as soon as commerce begins to grow, men make themselves customs which have the validity of laws. even equity, which is the exception to the law, conforms to fixed rules and lies for the most part within the limits of previous decisions. iv. the bitterness of the statesman is characteristic of plato's later style, in which the thoughts of youth and love have fled away, and we are no longer tended by the muses or the graces. we do not venture to say that plato was soured by old age, but certainly the kindliness and courtesy of the earlier dialogues have disappeared. he sees the world under a harder and grimmer aspect: he is dealing with the reality of things, not with visions or pictures of them: he is seeking by the aid of dialectic only, to arrive at truth. he is deeply impressed with the importance of classification: in this alone he finds the true measure of human things; and very often in the process of division curious results are obtained. for the dialectical art is no respecter of persons: king and vermin-taker are all alike to the philosopher. there may have been a time when the king was a god, but he now is pretty much on a level with his subjects in breeding and education. man should be well advised that he is only one of the animals, and the hellene in particular should be aware that he himself was the author of the distinction between hellene and barbarian, and that the phrygian would equally divide mankind into phrygians and barbarians, and that some intelligent animal, like a crane, might go a step further, and divide the animal world into cranes and all other animals. plato cannot help laughing (compare theaet.) when he thinks of the king running after his subjects, like the pig-driver or the bird-taker. he would seriously have him consider how many competitors there are to his throne, chiefly among the class of serving-men. a good deal of meaning is lurking in the expression--'there is no art of feeding mankind worthy the name.' there is a similar depth in the remark,--'the wonder about states is not that they are short-lived, but that they last so long in spite of the badness of their rulers.' v. there is also a paradoxical element in the statesman which delights in reversing the accustomed use of words. the law which to the greek was the highest object of reverence is an ignorant and brutal tyrant--the tyrant is converted into a beneficent king. the sophist too is no longer, as in the earlier dialogues, the rival of the statesman, but assumes his form. plato sees that the ideal of the state in his own day is more and more severed from the actual. from such ideals as he had once formed, he turns away to contemplate the decline of the greek cities which were far worse now in his old age than they had been in his youth, and were to become worse and worse in the ages which followed. he cannot contain his disgust at the contemporary statesmen, sophists who had turned politicians, in various forms of men and animals, appearing, some like lions and centaurs, others like satyrs and monkeys. in this new disguise the sophists make their last appearance on the scene: in the laws plato appears to have forgotten them, or at any rate makes only a slight allusion to them in a single passage (laws). vi. the statesman is naturally connected with the sophist. at first sight we are surprised to find that the eleatic stranger discourses to us, not only concerning the nature of being and not-being, but concerning the king and statesman. we perceive, however, that there is no inappropriateness in his maintaining the character of chief speaker, when we remember the close connexion which is assumed by plato to exist between politics and dialectic. in both dialogues the proteus sophist is exhibited, first, in the disguise of an eristic, secondly, of a false statesman. there are several lesser features which the two dialogues have in common. the styles and the situations of the speakers are very similar; there is the same love of division, and in both of them the mind of the writer is greatly occupied about method, to which he had probably intended to return in the projected 'philosopher.' the statesman stands midway between the republic and the laws, and is also related to the timaeus. the mythical or cosmical element reminds us of the timaeus, the ideal of the republic. a previous chaos in which the elements as yet were not, is hinted at both in the timaeus and statesman. the same ingenious arts of giving verisimilitude to a fiction are practised in both dialogues, and in both, as well as in the myth at the end of the republic, plato touches on the subject of necessity and free-will. the words in which he describes the miseries of states seem to be an amplification of the 'cities will never cease from ill' of the republic. the point of view in both is the same; and the differences not really important, e.g. in the myth, or in the account of the different kinds of states. but the treatment of the subject in the statesman is fragmentary, and the shorter and later work, as might be expected, is less finished, and less worked out in detail. the idea of measure and the arrangement of the sciences supply connecting links both with the republic and the philebus. more than any of the preceding dialogues, the statesman seems to approximate in thought and language to the laws. there is the same decline and tendency to monotony in style, the same self-consciousness, awkwardness, and over-civility; and in the laws is contained the pattern of that second best form of government, which, after all, is admitted to be the only attainable one in this world. the 'gentle violence,' the marriage of dissimilar natures, the figure of the warp and the woof, are also found in the laws. both expressly recognize the conception of a first or ideal state, which has receded into an invisible heaven. nor does the account of the origin and growth of society really differ in them, if we make allowance for the mythic character of the narrative in the statesman. the virtuous tyrant is common to both of them; and the eleatic stranger takes up a position similar to that of the athenian stranger in the laws. vii. there would have been little disposition to doubt the genuineness of the sophist and statesman, if they had been compared with the laws rather than with the republic, and the laws had been received, as they ought to be, on the authority of aristotle and on the ground of their intrinsic excellence, as an undoubted work of plato. the detailed consideration of the genuineness and order of the platonic dialogues has been reserved for another place: a few of the reasons for defending the sophist and statesman may be given here. . the excellence, importance, and metaphysical originality of the two dialogues: no works at once so good and of such length are known to have proceeded from the hands of a forger. . the resemblances in them to other dialogues of plato are such as might be expected to be found in works of the same author, and not in those of an imitator, being too subtle and minute to have been invented by another. the similar passages and turns of thought are generally inferior to the parallel passages in his earlier writings; and we might a priori have expected that, if altered, they would have been improved. but the comparison of the laws proves that this repetition of his own thoughts and words in an inferior form is characteristic of plato's later style. . the close connexion of them with the theaetetus, parmenides, and philebus, involves the fate of these dialogues, as well as of the two suspected ones. . the suspicion of them seems mainly to rest on a presumption that in plato's writings we may expect to find an uniform type of doctrine and opinion. but however we arrange the order, or narrow the circle of the dialogues, we must admit that they exhibit a growth and progress in the mind of plato. and the appearance of change or progress is not to be regarded as impugning the genuineness of any particular writings, but may be even an argument in their favour. if we suppose the sophist and politicus to stand halfway between the republic and the laws, and in near connexion with the theaetetus, the parmenides, the philebus, the arguments against them derived from differences of thought and style disappear or may be said without paradox in some degree to confirm their genuineness. there is no such interval between the republic or phaedrus and the two suspected dialogues, as that which separates all the earlier writings of plato from the laws. and the theaetetus, parmenides, and philebus, supply links, by which, however different from them, they may be reunited with the great body of the platonic writings. statesman persons of the dialogue: theodorus, socrates, the eleatic stranger, the younger socrates. socrates: i owe you many thanks, indeed, theodorus, for the acquaintance both of theaetetus and of the stranger. theodorus: and in a little while, socrates, you will owe me three times as many, when they have completed for you the delineation of the statesman and of the philosopher, as well as of the sophist. socrates: sophist, statesman, philosopher! o my dear theodorus, do my ears truly witness that this is the estimate formed of them by the great calculator and geometrician? theodorus: what do you mean, socrates? socrates: i mean that you rate them all at the same value, whereas they are really separated by an interval, which no geometrical ratio can express. theodorus: by ammon, the god of cyrene, socrates, that is a very fair hit; and shows that you have not forgotten your geometry. i will retaliate on you at some other time, but i must now ask the stranger, who will not, i hope, tire of his goodness to us, to proceed either with the statesman or with the philosopher, whichever he prefers. stranger: that is my duty, theodorus; having begun i must go on, and not leave the work unfinished. but what shall be done with theaetetus? theodorus: in what respect? stranger: shall we relieve him, and take his companion, the young socrates, instead of him? what do you advise? theodorus: yes, give the other a turn, as you propose. the young always do better when they have intervals of rest. socrates: i think, stranger, that both of them may be said to be in some way related to me; for the one, as you affirm, has the cut of my ugly face (compare theaet.), the other is called by my name. and we should always be on the look-out to recognize a kinsman by the style of his conversation. i myself was discoursing with theaetetus yesterday, and i have just been listening to his answers; my namesake i have not yet examined, but i must. another time will do for me; to-day let him answer you. stranger: very good. young socrates, do you hear what the elder socrates is proposing? young socrates: i do. stranger: and do you agree to his proposal? young socrates: certainly. stranger: as you do not object, still less can i. after the sophist, then, i think that the statesman naturally follows next in the order of enquiry. and please to say, whether he, too, should be ranked among those who have science. young socrates: yes. stranger: then the sciences must be divided as before? young socrates: i dare say. stranger: but yet the division will not be the same? young socrates: how then? stranger: they will be divided at some other point. young socrates: yes. stranger: where shall we discover the path of the statesman? we must find and separate off, and set our seal upon this, and we will set the mark of another class upon all diverging paths. thus the soul will conceive of all kinds of knowledge under two classes. young socrates: to find the path is your business, stranger, and not mine. stranger: yes, socrates, but the discovery, when once made, must be yours as well as mine. young socrates: very good. stranger: well, and are not arithmetic and certain other kindred arts, merely abstract knowledge, wholly separated from action? young socrates: true. stranger: but in the art of carpentering and all other handicrafts, the knowledge of the workman is merged in his work; he not only knows, but he also makes things which previously did not exist. young socrates: certainly. stranger: then let us divide sciences in general into those which are practical and those which are purely intellectual. young socrates: let us assume these two divisions of science, which is one whole. stranger: and are 'statesman,' 'king,' 'master,' or 'householder,' one and the same; or is there a science or art answering to each of these names? or rather, allow me to put the matter in another way. young socrates: let me hear. stranger: if any one who is in a private station has the skill to advise one of the public physicians, must not he also be called a physician? young socrates: yes. stranger: and if any one who is in a private station is able to advise the ruler of a country, may not he be said to have the knowledge which the ruler himself ought to have? young socrates: true. stranger: but surely the science of a true king is royal science? young socrates: yes. stranger: and will not he who possesses this knowledge, whether he happens to be a ruler or a private man, when regarded only in reference to his art, be truly called 'royal'? young socrates: he certainly ought to be. stranger: and the householder and master are the same? young socrates: of course. stranger: again, a large household may be compared to a small state:--will they differ at all, as far as government is concerned? young socrates: they will not. stranger: then, returning to the point which we were just now discussing, do we not clearly see that there is one science of all of them; and this science may be called either royal or political or economical; we will not quarrel with any one about the name. young socrates: certainly not. stranger: this too, is evident, that the king cannot do much with his hands, or with his whole body, towards the maintenance of his empire, compared with what he does by the intelligence and strength of his mind. young socrates: clearly not. stranger: then, shall we say that the king has a greater affinity to knowledge than to manual arts and to practical life in general? young socrates: certainly he has. stranger: then we may put all together as one and the same--statesmanship and the statesman--the kingly science and the king. young socrates: clearly. stranger: and now we shall only be proceeding in due order if we go on to divide the sphere of knowledge? young socrates: very good. stranger: think whether you can find any joint or parting in knowledge. young socrates: tell me of what sort. stranger: such as this: you may remember that we made an art of calculation? young socrates: yes. stranger: which was, unmistakeably, one of the arts of knowledge? young socrates: certainly. stranger: and to this art of calculation which discerns the differences of numbers shall we assign any other function except to pass judgment on their differences? young socrates: how could we? stranger: you know that the master-builder does not work himself, but is the ruler of workmen? young socrates: yes. stranger: he contributes knowledge, not manual labour? young socrates: true. stranger: and may therefore be justly said to share in theoretical science? young socrates: quite true. stranger: but he ought not, like the calculator, to regard his functions as at an end when he has formed a judgment;--he must assign to the individual workmen their appropriate task until they have completed the work. young socrates: true. stranger: are not all such sciences, no less than arithmetic and the like, subjects of pure knowledge; and is not the difference between the two classes, that the one sort has the power of judging only, and the other of ruling as well? young socrates: that is evident. stranger: may we not very properly say, that of all knowledge, there are two divisions--one which rules, and the other which judges? young socrates: i should think so. stranger: and when men have anything to do in common, that they should be of one mind is surely a desirable thing? young socrates: very true. stranger: then while we are at unity among ourselves, we need not mind about the fancies of others? young socrates: certainly not. stranger: and now, in which of these divisions shall we place the king?--is he a judge and a kind of spectator? or shall we assign to him the art of command--for he is a ruler? young socrates: the latter, clearly. stranger: then we must see whether there is any mark of division in the art of command too. i am inclined to think that there is a distinction similar to that of manufacturer and retail dealer, which parts off the king from the herald. young socrates: how is this? stranger: why, does not the retailer receive and sell over again the productions of others, which have been sold before? young socrates: certainly he does. stranger: and is not the herald under command, and does he not receive orders, and in his turn give them to others? young socrates: very true. stranger: then shall we mingle the kingly art in the same class with the art of the herald, the interpreter, the boatswain, the prophet, and the numerous kindred arts which exercise command; or, as in the preceding comparison we spoke of manufacturers, or sellers for themselves, and of retailers,--seeing, too, that the class of supreme rulers, or rulers for themselves, is almost nameless--shall we make a word following the same analogy, and refer kings to a supreme or ruling-for-self science, leaving the rest to receive a name from some one else? for we are seeking the ruler; and our enquiry is not concerned with him who is not a ruler. young socrates: very good. stranger: thus a very fair distinction has been attained between the man who gives his own commands, and him who gives another's. and now let us see if the supreme power allows of any further division. young socrates: by all means. stranger: i think that it does; and please to assist me in making the division. young socrates: at what point? stranger: may not all rulers be supposed to command for the sake of producing something? young socrates: certainly. stranger: nor is there any difficulty in dividing the things produced into two classes. young socrates: how would you divide them? stranger: of the whole class, some have life and some are without life. young socrates: true. stranger: and by the help of this distinction we may make, if we please, a subdivision of the section of knowledge which commands. young socrates: at what point? stranger: one part may be set over the production of lifeless, the other of living objects; and in this way the whole will be divided. young socrates: certainly. stranger: that division, then, is complete; and now we may leave one half, and take up the other; which may also be divided into two. young socrates: which of the two halves do you mean? stranger: of course that which exercises command about animals. for, surely, the royal science is not like that of a master-workman, a science presiding over lifeless objects;--the king has a nobler function, which is the management and control of living beings. young socrates: true. stranger: and the breeding and tending of living beings may be observed to be sometimes a tending of the individual; in other cases, a common care of creatures in flocks? young socrates: true. stranger: but the statesman is not a tender of individuals--not like the driver or groom of a single ox or horse; he is rather to be compared with the keeper of a drove of horses or oxen. young socrates: yes, i see, thanks to you. stranger: shall we call this art of tending many animals together, the art of managing a herd, or the art of collective management? young socrates: no matter;--whichever suggests itself to us in the course of conversation. stranger: very good, socrates; and, if you continue to be not too particular about names, you will be all the richer in wisdom when you are an old man. and now, as you say, leaving the discussion of the name,--can you see a way in which a person, by showing the art of herding to be of two kinds, may cause that which is now sought amongst twice the number of things, to be then sought amongst half that number? young socrates: i will try;--there appears to me to be one management of men and another of beasts. stranger: you have certainly divided them in a most straightforward and manly style; but you have fallen into an error which hereafter i think that we had better avoid. young socrates: what is the error? stranger: i think that we had better not cut off a single small portion which is not a species, from many larger portions; the part should be a species. to separate off at once the subject of investigation, is a most excellent plan, if only the separation be rightly made; and you were under the impression that you were right, because you saw that you would come to man; and this led you to hasten the steps. but you should not chip off too small a piece, my friend; the safer way is to cut through the middle; which is also the more likely way of finding classes. attention to this principle makes all the difference in a process of enquiry. young socrates: what do you mean, stranger? stranger: i will endeavour to speak more plainly out of love to your good parts, socrates; and, although i cannot at present entirely explain myself, i will try, as we proceed, to make my meaning a little clearer. young socrates: what was the error of which, as you say, we were guilty in our recent division? stranger: the error was just as if some one who wanted to divide the human race, were to divide them after the fashion which prevails in this part of the world; here they cut off the hellenes as one species, and all the other species of mankind, which are innumerable, and have no ties or common language, they include under the single name of 'barbarians,' and because they have one name they are supposed to be of one species also. or suppose that in dividing numbers you were to cut off ten thousand from all the rest, and make of it one species, comprehending the rest under another separate name, you might say that here too was a single class, because you had given it a single name. whereas you would make a much better and more equal and logical classification of numbers, if you divided them into odd and even; or of the human species, if you divided them into male and female; and only separated off lydians or phrygians, or any other tribe, and arrayed them against the rest of the world, when you could no longer make a division into parts which were also classes. young socrates: very true; but i wish that this distinction between a part and a class could still be made somewhat plainer. stranger: o socrates, best of men, you are imposing upon me a very difficult task. we have already digressed further from our original intention than we ought, and you would have us wander still further away. but we must now return to our subject; and hereafter, when there is a leisure hour, we will follow up the other track; at the same time, i wish you to guard against imagining that you ever heard me declare-- young socrates: what? stranger: that a class and a part are distinct. young socrates: what did i hear, then? stranger: that a class is necessarily a part, but there is no similar necessity that a part should be a class; that is the view which i should always wish you to attribute to me, socrates. young socrates: so be it. stranger: there is another thing which i should like to know. young socrates: what is it? stranger: the point at which we digressed; for, if i am not mistaken, the exact place was at the question, where you would divide the management of herds. to this you appeared rather too ready to answer that there were two species of animals; man being one, and all brutes making up the other. young socrates: true. stranger: i thought that in taking away a part, you imagined that the remainder formed a class, because you were able to call them by the common name of brutes. young socrates: that again is true. stranger: suppose now, o most courageous of dialecticians, that some wise and understanding creature, such as a crane is reputed to be, were, in imitation of you, to make a similar division, and set up cranes against all other animals to their own special glorification, at the same time jumbling together all the others, including man, under the appellation of brutes,--here would be the sort of error which we must try to avoid. young socrates: how can we be safe? stranger: if we do not divide the whole class of animals, we shall be less likely to fall into that error. young socrates: we had better not take the whole? stranger: yes, there lay the source of error in our former division. young socrates: how? stranger: you remember how that part of the art of knowledge which was concerned with command, had to do with the rearing of living creatures,--i mean, with animals in herds? young socrates: yes. stranger: in that case, there was already implied a division of all animals into tame and wild; those whose nature can be tamed are called tame, and those which cannot be tamed are called wild. young socrates: true. stranger: and the political science of which we are in search, is and ever was concerned with tame animals, and is also confined to gregarious animals. young socrates: yes. stranger: but then we ought not to divide, as we did, taking the whole class at once. neither let us be in too great haste to arrive quickly at the political science; for this mistake has already brought upon us the misfortune of which the proverb speaks. young socrates: what misfortune? stranger: the misfortune of too much haste, which is too little speed. young socrates: and all the better, stranger;--we got what we deserved. stranger: very well: let us then begin again, and endeavour to divide the collective rearing of animals; for probably the completion of the argument will best show what you are so anxious to know. tell me, then-- young socrates: what? stranger: have you ever heard, as you very likely may--for i do not suppose that you ever actually visited them--of the preserves of fishes in the nile, and in the ponds of the great king; or you may have seen similar preserves in wells at home? young socrates: yes, to be sure, i have seen them, and i have often heard the others described. stranger: and you may have heard also, and may have been assured by report, although you have not travelled in those regions, of nurseries of geese and cranes in the plains of thessaly? young socrates: certainly. stranger: i asked you, because here is a new division of the management of herds, into the management of land and of water herds. young socrates: there is. stranger: and do you agree that we ought to divide the collective rearing of herds into two corresponding parts, the one the rearing of water, and the other the rearing of land herds? young socrates: yes. stranger: there is surely no need to ask which of these two contains the royal art, for it is evident to everybody. young socrates: certainly. stranger: any one can divide the herds which feed on dry land? young socrates: how would you divide them? stranger: i should distinguish between those which fly and those which walk. young socrates: most true. stranger: and where shall we look for the political animal? might not an idiot, so to speak, know that he is a pedestrian? young socrates: certainly. stranger: the art of managing the walking animal has to be further divided, just as you might halve an even number. young socrates: clearly. stranger: let me note that here appear in view two ways to that part or class which the argument aims at reaching,--the one a speedier way, which cuts off a small portion and leaves a large; the other agrees better with the principle which we were laying down, that as far as we can we should divide in the middle; but it is longer. we can take either of them, whichever we please. young socrates: cannot we have both ways? stranger: together? what a thing to ask! but, if you take them in turn, you clearly may. young socrates: then i should like to have them in turn. stranger: there will be no difficulty, as we are near the end; if we had been at the beginning, or in the middle, i should have demurred to your request; but now, in accordance with your desire, let us begin with the longer way; while we are fresh, we shall get on better. and now attend to the division. young socrates: let me hear. stranger: the tame walking herding animals are distributed by nature into two classes. young socrates: upon what principle? stranger: the one grows horns; and the other is without horns. young socrates: clearly. stranger: suppose that you divide the science which manages pedestrian animals into two corresponding parts, and define them; for if you try to invent names for them, you will find the intricacy too great. young socrates: how must i speak of them, then? stranger: in this way: let the science of managing pedestrian animals be divided into two parts, and one part assigned to the horned herd, and the other to the herd that has no horns. young socrates: all that you say has been abundantly proved, and may therefore be assumed. stranger: the king is clearly the shepherd of a polled herd, who have no horns. young socrates: that is evident. stranger: shall we break up this hornless herd into sections, and endeavour to assign to him what is his? young socrates: by all means. stranger: shall we distinguish them by their having or not having cloven feet, or by their mixing or not mixing the breed? you know what i mean. young socrates: what? stranger: i mean that horses and asses naturally breed from one another. young socrates: yes. stranger: but the remainder of the hornless herd of tame animals will not mix the breed. young socrates: very true. stranger: and of which has the statesman charge,--of the mixed or of the unmixed race? young socrates: clearly of the unmixed. stranger: i suppose that we must divide this again as before. young socrates: we must. stranger: every tame and herding animal has now been split up, with the exception of two species; for i hardly think that dogs should be reckoned among gregarious animals. young socrates: certainly not; but how shall we divide the two remaining species? stranger: there is a measure of difference which may be appropriately employed by you and theaetetus, who are students of geometry. young socrates: what is that? stranger: the diameter; and, again, the diameter of a diameter. (compare meno.) young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: how does man walk, but as a diameter whose power is two feet? young socrates: just so. stranger: and the power of the remaining kind, being the power of twice two feet, may be said to be the diameter of our diameter. young socrates: certainly; and now i think that i pretty nearly understand you. stranger: in these divisions, socrates, i descry what would make another famous jest. young socrates: what is it? stranger: human beings have come out in the same class with the freest and airiest of creation, and have been running a race with them. young socrates: i remark that very singular coincidence. stranger: and would you not expect the slowest to arrive last? young socrates: indeed i should. stranger: and there is a still more ridiculous consequence, that the king is found running about with the herd and in close competition with the bird-catcher, who of all mankind is most of an adept at the airy life. (plato is here introducing a new subdivision, i.e. that of bipeds into men and birds. others however refer the passage to the division into quadrupeds and bipeds, making pigs compete with human beings and the pig-driver with the king. according to this explanation we must translate the words above, 'freest and airiest of creation,' 'worthiest and laziest of creation.') young socrates: certainly. stranger: then here, socrates, is still clearer evidence of the truth of what was said in the enquiry about the sophist? (compare sophist.) young socrates: what? stranger: that the dialectical method is no respecter of persons, and does not set the great above the small, but always arrives in her own way at the truest result. young socrates: clearly. stranger: and now, i will not wait for you to ask, but will of my own accord take you by the shorter road to the definition of a king. young socrates: by all means. stranger: i say that we should have begun at first by dividing land animals into biped and quadruped; and since the winged herd, and that alone, comes out in the same class with man, we should divide bipeds into those which have feathers and those which have not, and when they have been divided, and the art of the management of mankind is brought to light, the time will have come to produce our statesman and ruler, and set him like a charioteer in his place, and hand over to him the reins of state, for that too is a vocation which belongs to him. young socrates: very good; you have paid me the debt,--i mean, that you have completed the argument, and i suppose that you added the digression by way of interest. (compare republic.) stranger: then now, let us go back to the beginning, and join the links, which together make the definition of the name of the statesman's art. young socrates: by all means. stranger: the science of pure knowledge had, as we said originally, a part which was the science of rule or command, and from this was derived another part, which was called command-for-self, on the analogy of selling-for-self; an important section of this was the management of living animals, and this again was further limited to the management of them in herds; and again in herds of pedestrian animals. the chief division of the latter was the art of managing pedestrian animals which are without horns; this again has a part which can only be comprehended under one term by joining together three names--shepherding pure-bred animals. the only further subdivision is the art of man-herding,--this has to do with bipeds, and is what we were seeking after, and have now found, being at once the royal and political. young socrates: to be sure. stranger: and do you think, socrates, that we really have done as you say? young socrates: what? stranger: do you think, i mean, that we have really fulfilled our intention?--there has been a sort of discussion, and yet the investigation seems to me not to be perfectly worked out: this is where the enquiry fails. young socrates: i do not understand. stranger: i will try to make the thought, which is at this moment present in my mind, clearer to us both. young socrates: let me hear. stranger: there were many arts of shepherding, and one of them was the political, which had the charge of one particular herd? young socrates: yes. stranger: and this the argument defined to be the art of rearing, not horses or other brutes, but the art of rearing man collectively? young socrates: true. stranger: note, however, a difference which distinguishes the king from all other shepherds. young socrates: to what do you refer? stranger: i want to ask, whether any one of the other herdsmen has a rival who professes and claims to share with him in the management of the herd? young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: i mean to say that merchants, husbandmen, providers of food, and also training-masters and physicians, will all contend with the herdsmen of humanity, whom we call statesmen, declaring that they themselves have the care of rearing or managing mankind, and that they rear not only the common herd, but also the rulers themselves. young socrates: are they not right in saying so? stranger: very likely they may be, and we will consider their claim. but we are certain of this,--that no one will raise a similar claim as against the herdsman, who is allowed on all hands to be the sole and only feeder and physician of his herd; he is also their match-maker and accoucheur; no one else knows that department of science. and he is their merry-maker and musician, as far as their nature is susceptible of such influences, and no one can console and soothe his own herd better than he can, either with the natural tones of his voice or with instruments. and the same may be said of tenders of animals in general. young socrates: very true. stranger: but if this is as you say, can our argument about the king be true and unimpeachable? were we right in selecting him out of ten thousand other claimants to be the shepherd and rearer of the human flock? young socrates: surely not. stranger: had we not reason just to now to apprehend, that although we may have described a sort of royal form, we have not as yet accurately worked out the true image of the statesman? and that we cannot reveal him as he truly is in his own nature, until we have disengaged and separated him from those who hang about him and claim to share in his prerogatives? young socrates: very true. stranger: and that, socrates, is what we must do, if we do not mean to bring disgrace upon the argument at its close. young socrates: we must certainly avoid that. stranger: then let us make a new beginning, and travel by a different road. young socrates: what road? stranger: i think that we may have a little amusement; there is a famous tale, of which a good portion may with advantage be interwoven, and then we may resume our series of divisions, and proceed in the old path until we arrive at the desired summit. shall we do as i say? young socrates: by all means. stranger: listen, then, to a tale which a child would love to hear; and you are not too old for childish amusement. young socrates: let me hear. stranger: there did really happen, and will again happen, like many other events of which ancient tradition has preserved the record, the portent which is traditionally said to have occurred in the quarrel of atreus and thyestes. you have heard, no doubt, and remember what they say happened at that time? young socrates: i suppose you to mean the token of the birth of the golden lamb. stranger: no, not that; but another part of the story, which tells how the sun and the stars once rose in the west, and set in the east, and that the god reversed their motion, and gave them that which they now have as a testimony to the right of atreus. young socrates: yes; there is that legend also. stranger: again, we have been often told of the reign of cronos. young socrates: yes, very often. stranger: did you ever hear that the men of former times were earth-born, and not begotten of one another? young socrates: yes, that is another old tradition. stranger: all these stories, and ten thousand others which are still more wonderful, have a common origin; many of them have been lost in the lapse of ages, or are repeated only in a disconnected form; but the origin of them is what no one has told, and may as well be told now; for the tale is suited to throw light on the nature of the king. young socrates: very good; and i hope that you will give the whole story, and leave out nothing. stranger: listen, then. there is a time when god himself guides and helps to roll the world in its course; and there is a time, on the completion of a certain cycle, when he lets go, and the world being a living creature, and having originally received intelligence from its author and creator, turns about and by an inherent necessity revolves in the opposite direction. young socrates: why is that? stranger: why, because only the most divine things of all remain ever unchanged and the same, and body is not included in this class. heaven and the universe, as we have termed them, although they have been endowed by the creator with many glories, partake of a bodily nature, and therefore cannot be entirely free from perturbation. but their motion is, as far as possible, single and in the same place, and of the same kind; and is therefore only subject to a reversal, which is the least alteration possible. for the lord of all moving things is alone able to move of himself; and to think that he moves them at one time in one direction and at another time in another is blasphemy. hence we must not say that the world is either self-moved always, or all made to go round by god in two opposite courses; or that two gods, having opposite purposes, make it move round. but as i have already said (and this is the only remaining alternative) the world is guided at one time by an external power which is divine and receives fresh life and immortality from the renewing hand of the creator, and again, when let go, moves spontaneously, being set free at such a time as to have, during infinite cycles of years, a reverse movement: this is due to its perfect balance, to its vast size, and to the fact that it turns on the smallest pivot. young socrates: your account of the world seems to be very reasonable indeed. stranger: let us now reflect and try to gather from what has been said the nature of the phenomenon which we affirmed to be the cause of all these wonders. it is this. young socrates: what? stranger: the reversal which takes place from time to time of the motion of the universe. young socrates: how is that the cause? stranger: of all changes of the heavenly motions, we may consider this to be the greatest and most complete. young socrates: i should imagine so. stranger: and it may be supposed to result in the greatest changes to the human beings who are the inhabitants of the world at the time. young socrates: such changes would naturally occur. stranger: and animals, as we know, survive with difficulty great and serious changes of many different kinds when they come upon them at once. young socrates: very true. stranger: hence there necessarily occurs a great destruction of them, which extends also to the life of man; few survivors of the race are left, and those who remain become the subjects of several novel and remarkable phenomena, and of one in particular, which takes place at the time when the transition is made to the cycle opposite to that in which we are now living. young socrates: what is it? stranger: the life of all animals first came to a standstill, and the mortal nature ceased to be or look older, and was then reversed and grew young and delicate; the white locks of the aged darkened again, and the cheeks the bearded man became smooth, and recovered their former bloom; the bodies of youths in their prime grew softer and smaller, continually by day and night returning and becoming assimilated to the nature of a newly-born child in mind as well as body; in the succeeding stage they wasted away and wholly disappeared. and the bodies of those who died by violence at that time quickly passed through the like changes, and in a few days were no more seen. young socrates: then how, stranger, were the animals created in those days; and in what way were they begotten of one another? stranger: it is evident, socrates, that there was no such thing in the then order of nature as the procreation of animals from one another; the earth-born race, of which we hear in story, was the one which existed in those days--they rose again from the ground; and of this tradition, which is now-a-days often unduly discredited, our ancestors, who were nearest in point of time to the end of the last period and came into being at the beginning of this, are to us the heralds. and mark how consistent the sequel of the tale is; after the return of age to youth, follows the return of the dead, who are lying in the earth, to life; simultaneously with the reversal of the world the wheel of their generation has been turned back, and they are put together and rise and live in the opposite order, unless god has carried any of them away to some other lot. according to this tradition they of necessity sprang from the earth and have the name of earth-born, and so the above legend clings to them. young socrates: certainly that is quite consistent with what has preceded; but tell me, was the life which you said existed in the reign of cronos in that cycle of the world, or in this? for the change in the course of the stars and the sun must have occurred in both. stranger: i see that you enter into my meaning;--no, that blessed and spontaneous life does not belong to the present cycle of the world, but to the previous one, in which god superintended the whole revolution of the universe; and the several parts the universe were distributed under the rule of certain inferior deities, as is the way in some places still. there were demigods, who were the shepherds of the various species and herds of animals, and each one was in all respects sufficient for those of whom he was the shepherd; neither was there any violence, or devouring of one another, or war or quarrel among them; and i might tell of ten thousand other blessings, which belonged to that dispensation. the reason why the life of man was, as tradition says, spontaneous, is as follows: in those days god himself was their shepherd, and ruled over them, just as man, who is by comparison a divine being, still rules over the lower animals. under him there were no forms of government or separate possession of women and children; for all men rose again from the earth, having no memory of the past. and although they had nothing of this sort, the earth gave them fruits in abundance, which grew on trees and shrubs unbidden, and were not planted by the hand of man. and they dwelt naked, and mostly in the open air, for the temperature of their seasons was mild; and they had no beds, but lay on soft couches of grass, which grew plentifully out of the earth. such was the life of man in the days of cronos, socrates; the character of our present life, which is said to be under zeus, you know from your own experience. can you, and will you, determine which of them you deem the happier? young socrates: impossible. stranger: then shall i determine for you as well as i can? young socrates: by all means. stranger: suppose that the nurslings of cronos, having this boundless leisure, and the power of holding intercourse, not only with men, but with the brute creation, had used all these advantages with a view to philosophy, conversing with the brutes as well as with one another, and learning of every nature which was gifted with any special power, and was able to contribute some special experience to the store of wisdom, there would be no difficulty in deciding that they would be a thousand times happier than the men of our own day. or, again, if they had merely eaten and drunk until they were full, and told stories to one another and to the animals--such stories as are now attributed to them--in this case also, as i should imagine, the answer would be easy. but until some satisfactory witness can be found of the love of that age for knowledge and discussion, we had better let the matter drop, and give the reason why we have unearthed this tale, and then we shall be able to get on. in the fulness of time, when the change was to take place, and the earth-born race had all perished, and every soul had completed its proper cycle of births and been sown in the earth her appointed number of times, the pilot of the universe let the helm go, and retired to his place of view; and then fate and innate desire reversed the motion of the world. then also all the inferior deities who share the rule of the supreme power, being informed of what was happening, let go the parts of the world which were under their control. and the world turning round with a sudden shock, being impelled in an opposite direction from beginning to end, was shaken by a mighty earthquake, which wrought a new destruction of all manner of animals. afterwards, when sufficient time had elapsed, the tumult and confusion and earthquake ceased, and the universal creature, once more at peace, attained to a calm, and settled down into his own orderly and accustomed course, having the charge and rule of himself and of all the creatures which are contained in him, and executing, as far as he remembered them, the instructions of his father and creator, more precisely at first, but afterwords with less exactness. the reason of the falling off was the admixture of matter in him; this was inherent in the primal nature, which was full of disorder, until attaining to the present order. from god, the constructor, the world received all that is good in him, but from a previous state came elements of evil and unrighteousness, which, thence derived, first of all passed into the world, and were then transmitted to the animals. while the world was aided by the pilot in nurturing the animals, the evil was small, and great the good which he produced, but after the separation, when the world was let go, at first all proceeded well enough; but, as time went on, there was more and more forgetting, and the old discord again held sway and burst forth in full glory; and at last small was the good, and great was the admixture of evil, and there was a danger of universal ruin to the world, and to the things contained in him. wherefore god, the orderer of all, in his tender care, seeing that the world was in great straits, and fearing that all might be dissolved in the storm and disappear in infinite chaos, again seated himself at the helm; and bringing back the elements which had fallen into dissolution and disorder to the motion which had prevailed under his dispensation, he set them in order and restored them, and made the world imperishable and immortal. and this is the whole tale, of which the first part will suffice to illustrate the nature of the king. for when the world turned towards the present cycle of generation, the age of man again stood still, and a change opposite to the previous one was the result. the small creatures which had almost disappeared grew in and stature, and the newly-born children of the earth became grey and died and sank into the earth again. all things changed, imitating and following the condition of the universe, and of necessity agreeing with that in their mode of conception and generation and nurture; for no animal was any longer allowed to come into being in the earth through the agency of other creative beings, but as the world was ordained to be the lord of his own progress, in like manner the parts were ordained to grow and generate and give nourishment, as far as they could, of themselves, impelled by a similar movement. and so we have arrived at the real end of this discourse; for although there might be much to tell of the lower animals, and of the condition out of which they changed and of the causes of the change, about men there is not much, and that little is more to the purpose. deprived of the care of god, who had possessed and tended them, they were left helpless and defenceless, and were torn in pieces by the beasts, who were naturally fierce and had now grown wild. and in the first ages they were still without skill or resource; the food which once grew spontaneously had failed, and as yet they knew not how to procure it, because they had never felt the pressure of necessity. for all these reasons they were in a great strait; wherefore also the gifts spoken of in the old tradition were imparted to man by the gods, together with so much teaching and education as was indispensable; fire was given to them by prometheus, the arts by hephaestus and his fellow-worker, athene, seeds and plants by others. from these is derived all that has helped to frame human life; since the care of the gods, as i was saying, had now failed men, and they had to order their course of life for themselves, and were their own masters, just like the universal creature whom they imitate and follow, ever changing, as he changes, and ever living and growing, at one time in one manner, and at another time in another. enough of the story, which may be of use in showing us how greatly we erred in the delineation of the king and the statesman in our previous discourse. young socrates: what was this great error of which you speak? stranger: there were two; the first a lesser one, the other was an error on a much larger and grander scale. young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: i mean to say that when we were asked about a king and statesman of the present cycle and generation, we told of a shepherd of a human flock who belonged to the other cycle, and of one who was a god when he ought to have been a man; and this a great error. again, we declared him to be the ruler of the entire state, without explaining how: this was not the whole truth, nor very intelligible; but still it was true, and therefore the second error was not so great as the first. young socrates: very good. stranger: before we can expect to have a perfect description of the statesman we must define the nature of his office. young socrates: certainly. stranger: and the myth was introduced in order to show, not only that all others are rivals of the true shepherd who is the object of our search, but in order that we might have a clearer view of him who is alone worthy to receive this appellation, because he alone of shepherds and herdsmen, according to the image which we have employed, has the care of human beings. young socrates: very true. stranger: and i cannot help thinking, socrates, that the form of the divine shepherd is even higher than that of a king; whereas the statesmen who are now on earth seem to be much more like their subjects in character, and much more nearly to partake of their breeding and education. young socrates: certainly. stranger: still they must be investigated all the same, to see whether, like the divine shepherd, they are above their subjects or on a level with them. young socrates: of course. stranger: to resume:--do you remember that we spoke of a command-for-self exercised over animals, not singly but collectively, which we called the art of rearing a herd? young socrates: yes, i remember. stranger: there, somewhere, lay our error; for we never included or mentioned the statesman; and we did not observe that he had no place in our nomenclature. young socrates: how was that? stranger: all other herdsmen 'rear' their herds, but this is not a suitable term to apply to the statesman; we should use a name which is common to them all. young socrates: true, if there be such a name. stranger: why, is not 'care' of herds applicable to all? for this implies no feeding, or any special duty; if we say either 'tending' the herds, or 'managing' the herds, or 'having the care' of them, the same word will include all, and then we may wrap up the statesman with the rest, as the argument seems to require. young socrates: quite right; but how shall we take the next step in the division? stranger: as before we divided the art of 'rearing' herds accordingly as they were land or water herds, winged and wingless, mixing or not mixing the breed, horned and hornless, so we may divide by these same differences the 'tending' of herds, comprehending in our definition the kingship of to-day and the rule of cronos. young socrates: that is clear; but i still ask, what is to follow. stranger: if the word had been 'managing' herds, instead of feeding or rearing them, no one would have argued that there was no care of men in the case of the politician, although it was justly contended, that there was no human art of feeding them which was worthy of the name, or at least, if there were, many a man had a prior and greater right to share in such an art than any king. young socrates: true. stranger: but no other art or science will have a prior or better right than the royal science to care for human society and to rule over men in general. young socrates: quite true. stranger: in the next place, socrates, we must surely notice that a great error was committed at the end of our analysis. young socrates: what was it? stranger: why, supposing we were ever so sure that there is such an art as the art of rearing or feeding bipeds, there was no reason why we should call this the royal or political art, as though there were no more to be said. young socrates: certainly not. stranger: our first duty, as we were saying, was to remodel the name, so as to have the notion of care rather than of feeding, and then to divide, for there may be still considerable divisions. young socrates: how can they be made? stranger: first, by separating the divine shepherd from the human guardian or manager. young socrates: true. stranger: and the art of management which is assigned to man would again have to be subdivided. young socrates: on what principle? stranger: on the principle of voluntary and compulsory. young socrates: why? stranger: because, if i am not mistaken, there has been an error here; for our simplicity led us to rank king and tyrant together, whereas they are utterly distinct, like their modes of government. young socrates: true. stranger: then, now, as i said, let us make the correction and divide human care into two parts, on the principle of voluntary and compulsory. young socrates: certainly. stranger: and if we call the management of violent rulers tyranny, and the voluntary management of herds of voluntary bipeds politics, may we not further assert that he who has this latter art of management is the true king and statesman? young socrates: i think, stranger, that we have now completed the account of the statesman. stranger: would that we had, socrates, but i have to satisfy myself as well as you; and in my judgment the figure of the king is not yet perfected; like statuaries who, in their too great haste, having overdone the several parts of their work, lose time in cutting them down, so too we, partly out of haste, partly out of a magnanimous desire to expose our former error, and also because we imagined that a king required grand illustrations, have taken up a marvellous lump of fable, and have been obliged to use more than was necessary. this made us discourse at large, and, nevertheless, the story never came to an end. and our discussion might be compared to a picture of some living being which had been fairly drawn in outline, but had not yet attained the life and clearness which is given by the blending of colours. now to intelligent persons a living being had better be delineated by language and discourse than by any painting or work of art: to the duller sort by works of art. young socrates: very true; but what is the imperfection which still remains? i wish that you would tell me. stranger: the higher ideas, my dear friend, can hardly be set forth except through the medium of examples; every man seems to know all things in a dreamy sort of way, and then again to wake up and to know nothing. young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: i fear that i have been unfortunate in raising a question about our experience of knowledge. young socrates: why so? stranger: why, because my 'example' requires the assistance of another example. young socrates: proceed; you need not fear that i shall tire. stranger: i will proceed, finding, as i do, such a ready listener in you: when children are beginning to know their letters-- young socrates: what are you going to say? stranger: that they distinguish the several letters well enough in very short and easy syllables, and are able to tell them correctly. young socrates: certainly. stranger: whereas in other syllables they do not recognize them, and think and speak falsely of them. young socrates: very true. stranger: will not the best and easiest way of bringing them to a knowledge of what they do not as yet know be-- young socrates: be what? stranger: to refer them first of all to cases in which they judge correctly about the letters in question, and then to compare these with the cases in which they do not as yet know, and to show them that the letters are the same, and have the same character in both combinations, until all cases in which they are right have been placed side by side with all cases in which they are wrong. in this way they have examples, and are made to learn that each letter in every combination is always the same and not another, and is always called by the same name. young socrates: certainly. stranger: are not examples formed in this manner? we take a thing and compare it with another distinct instance of the same thing, of which we have a right conception, and out of the comparison there arises one true notion, which includes both of them. young socrates: exactly. stranger: can we wonder, then, that the soul has the same uncertainty about the alphabet of things, and sometimes and in some cases is firmly fixed by the truth in each particular, and then, again, in other cases is altogether at sea; having somehow or other a correct notion of combinations; but when the elements are transferred into the long and difficult language (syllables) of facts, is again ignorant of them? young socrates: there is nothing wonderful in that. stranger: could any one, my friend, who began with false opinion ever expect to arrive even at a small portion of truth and to attain wisdom? young socrates: hardly. stranger: then you and i will not be far wrong in trying to see the nature of example in general in a small and particular instance; afterwards from lesser things we intend to pass to the royal class, which is the highest form of the same nature, and endeavour to discover by rules of art what the management of cities is; and then the dream will become a reality to us. young socrates: very true. stranger: then, once more, let us resume the previous argument, and as there were innumerable rivals of the royal race who claim to have the care of states, let us part them all off, and leave him alone; and, as i was saying, a model or example of this process has first to be framed. young socrates: exactly. stranger: what model is there which is small, and yet has any analogy with the political occupation? suppose, socrates, that if we have no other example at hand, we choose weaving, or, more precisely, weaving of wool--this will be quite enough, without taking the whole of weaving, to illustrate our meaning? young socrates: certainly. stranger: why should we not apply to weaving the same processes of division and subdivision which we have already applied to other classes; going once more as rapidly as we can through all the steps until we come to that which is needed for our purpose? young socrates: how do you mean? stranger: i shall reply by actually performing the process. young socrates: very good. stranger: all things which we make or acquire are either creative or preventive; of the preventive class are antidotes, divine and human, and also defences; and defences are either military weapons or protections; and protections are veils, and also shields against heat and cold, and shields against heat and cold are shelters and coverings; and coverings are blankets and garments; and garments are some of them in one piece, and others of them are made in several parts; and of these latter some are stitched, others are fastened and not stitched; and of the not stitched, some are made of the sinews of plants, and some of hair; and of these, again, some are cemented with water and earth, and others are fastened together by themselves. and these last defences and coverings which are fastened together by themselves are called clothes, and the art which superintends them we may call, from the nature of the operation, the art of clothing, just as before the art of the statesman was derived from the state; and may we not say that the art of weaving, at least that largest portion of it which was concerned with the making of clothes, differs only in name from this art of clothing, in the same way that, in the previous case, the royal science differed from the political? young socrates: most true. stranger: in the next place, let us make the reflection, that the art of weaving clothes, which an incompetent person might fancy to have been sufficiently described, has been separated off from several others which are of the same family, but not from the co-operative arts. young socrates: and which are the kindred arts? stranger: i see that i have not taken you with me. so i think that we had better go backwards, starting from the end. we just now parted off from the weaving of clothes, the making of blankets, which differ from each other in that one is put under and the other is put around: and these are what i termed kindred arts. young socrates: i understand. stranger: and we have subtracted the manufacture of all articles made of flax and cords, and all that we just now metaphorically termed the sinews of plants, and we have also separated off the process of felting and the putting together of materials by stitching and sewing, of which the most important part is the cobbler's art. young socrates: precisely. stranger: then we separated off the currier's art, which prepared coverings in entire pieces, and the art of sheltering, and subtracted the various arts of making water-tight which are employed in building, and in general in carpentering, and in other crafts, and all such arts as furnish impediments to thieving and acts of violence, and are concerned with making the lids of boxes and the fixing of doors, being divisions of the art of joining; and we also cut off the manufacture of arms, which is a section of the great and manifold art of making defences; and we originally began by parting off the whole of the magic art which is concerned with antidotes, and have left, as would appear, the very art of which we were in search, the art of protection against winter cold, which fabricates woollen defences, and has the name of weaving. young socrates: very true. stranger: yes, my boy, but that is not all; for the first process to which the material is subjected is the opposite of weaving. young socrates: how so? stranger: weaving is a sort of uniting? young socrates: yes. stranger: but the first process is a separation of the clotted and matted fibres? young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: i mean the work of the carder's art; for we cannot say that carding is weaving, or that the carder is a weaver. young socrates: certainly not. stranger: again, if a person were to say that the art of making the warp and the woof was the art of weaving, he would say what was paradoxical and false. young socrates: to be sure. stranger: shall we say that the whole art of the fuller or of the mender has nothing to do with the care and treatment of clothes, or are we to regard all these as arts of weaving? young socrates: certainly not. stranger: and yet surely all these arts will maintain that they are concerned with the treatment and production of clothes; they will dispute the exclusive prerogative of weaving, and though assigning a larger sphere to that, will still reserve a considerable field for themselves. young socrates: very true. stranger: besides these, there are the arts which make tools and instruments of weaving, and which will claim at least to be co-operative causes in every work of the weaver. young socrates: most true. stranger: well, then, suppose that we define weaving, or rather that part of it which has been selected by us, to be the greatest and noblest of arts which are concerned with woollen garments--shall we be right? is not the definition, although true, wanting in clearness and completeness; for do not all those other arts require to be first cleared away? young socrates: true. stranger: then the next thing will be to separate them, in order that the argument may proceed in a regular manner? young socrates: by all means. stranger: let us consider, in the first place, that there are two kinds of arts entering into everything which we do. young socrates: what are they? stranger: the one kind is the conditional or co-operative, the other the principal cause. young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: the arts which do not manufacture the actual thing, but which furnish the necessary tools for the manufacture, without which the several arts could not fulfil their appointed work, are co-operative; but those which make the things themselves are causal. young socrates: a very reasonable distinction. stranger: thus the arts which make spindles, combs, and other instruments of the production of clothes, may be called co-operative, and those which treat and fabricate the things themselves, causal. young socrates: very true. stranger: the arts of washing and mending, and the other preparatory arts which belong to the causal class, and form a division of the great art of adornment, may be all comprehended under what we call the fuller's art. young socrates: very good. stranger: carding and spinning threads and all the parts of the process which are concerned with the actual manufacture of a woollen garment form a single art, which is one of those universally acknowledged,--the art of working in wool. young socrates: to be sure. stranger: of working in wool, again, there are two divisions, and both these are parts of two arts at once. young socrates: how is that? stranger: carding and one half of the use of the comb, and the other processes of wool-working which separate the composite, may be classed together as belonging both to the art of wool-working, and also to one of the two great arts which are of universal application--the art of composition and the art of division. young socrates: yes. stranger: to the latter belong carding and the other processes of which i was just now speaking; the art of discernment or division in wool and yarn, which is effected in one manner with the comb and in another with the hands, is variously described under all the names which i just now mentioned. young socrates: very true. stranger: again, let us take some process of wool-working which is also a portion of the art of composition, and, dismissing the elements of division which we found there, make two halves, one on the principle of composition, and the other on the principle of division. young socrates: let that be done. stranger: and once more, socrates, we must divide the part which belongs at once both to wool-working and composition, if we are ever to discover satisfactorily the aforesaid art of weaving. young socrates: we must. stranger: yes, certainly, and let us call one part of the art the art of twisting threads, the other the art of combining them. young socrates: do i understand you, in speaking of twisting, to be referring to manufacture of the warp? stranger: yes, and of the woof too; how, if not by twisting, is the woof made? young socrates: there is no other way. stranger: then suppose that you define the warp and the woof, for i think that the definition will be of use to you. young socrates: how shall i define them? stranger: as thus: a piece of carded wool which is drawn out lengthwise and breadthwise is said to be pulled out. young socrates: yes. stranger: and the wool thus prepared, when twisted by the spindle, and made into a firm thread, is called the warp, and the art which regulates these operations the art of spinning the warp. young socrates: true. stranger: and the threads which are more loosely spun, having a softness proportioned to the intertexture of the warp and to the degree of force used in dressing the cloth,--the threads which are thus spun are called the woof, and the art which is set over them may be called the art of spinning the woof. young socrates: very true. stranger: and, now, there can be no mistake about the nature of the part of weaving which we have undertaken to define. for when that part of the art of composition which is employed in the working of wool forms a web by the regular intertexture of warp and woof, the entire woven substance is called by us a woollen garment, and the art which presides over this is the art of weaving. young socrates: very true. stranger: but why did we not say at once that weaving is the art of entwining warp and woof, instead of making a long and useless circuit? young socrates: i thought, stranger, that there was nothing useless in what was said. stranger: very likely, but you may not always think so, my sweet friend; and in case any feeling of dissatisfaction should hereafter arise in your mind, as it very well may, let me lay down a principle which will apply to arguments in general. young socrates: proceed. stranger: let us begin by considering the whole nature of excess and defect, and then we shall have a rational ground on which we may praise or blame too much length or too much shortness in discussions of this kind. young socrates: let us do so. stranger: the points on which i think that we ought to dwell are the following:-- young socrates: what? stranger: length and shortness, excess and defect; with all of these the art of measurement is conversant. young socrates: yes. stranger: and the art of measurement has to be divided into two parts, with a view to our present purpose. young socrates: where would you make the division? stranger: as thus: i would make two parts, one having regard to the relativity of greatness and smallness to each other; and there is another, without which the existence of production would be impossible. young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: do you not think that it is only natural for the greater to be called greater with reference to the less alone, and the less less with reference to the greater alone? young socrates: yes. stranger: well, but is there not also something exceeding and exceeded by the principle of the mean, both in speech and action, and is not this a reality, and the chief mark of difference between good and bad men? young socrates: plainly. stranger: then we must suppose that the great and small exist and are discerned in both these ways, and not, as we were saying before, only relatively to one another, but there must also be another comparison of them with the mean or ideal standard; would you like to hear the reason why? young socrates: certainly. stranger: if we assume the greater to exist only in relation to the less, there will never be any comparison of either with the mean. young socrates: true. stranger: and would not this doctrine be the ruin of all the arts and their creations; would not the art of the statesman and the aforesaid art of weaving disappear? for all these arts are on the watch against excess and defect, not as unrealities, but as real evils, which occasion a difficulty in action; and the excellence or beauty of every work of art is due to this observance of measure. young socrates: certainly. stranger: but if the science of the statesman disappears, the search for the royal science will be impossible. young socrates: very true. stranger: well, then, as in the case of the sophist we extorted the inference that not-being had an existence, because here was the point at which the argument eluded our grasp, so in this we must endeavour to show that the greater and less are not only to be measured with one another, but also have to do with the production of the mean; for if this is not admitted, neither a statesman nor any other man of action can be an undisputed master of his science. young socrates: yes, we must certainly do again what we did then. stranger: but this, socrates, is a greater work than the other, of which we only too well remember the length. i think, however, that we may fairly assume something of this sort-- young socrates: what? stranger: that we shall some day require this notion of a mean with a view to the demonstration of absolute truth; meanwhile, the argument that the very existence of the arts must be held to depend on the possibility of measuring more or less, not only with one another, but also with a view to the attainment of the mean, seems to afford a grand support and satisfactory proof of the doctrine which we are maintaining; for if there are arts, there is a standard of measure, and if there is a standard of measure, there are arts; but if either is wanting, there is neither. young socrates: true; and what is the next step? stranger: the next step clearly is to divide the art of measurement into two parts, as we have said already, and to place in the one part all the arts which measure number, length, depth, breadth, swiftness with their opposites; and to have another part in which they are measured with the mean, and the fit, and the opportune, and the due, and with all those words, in short, which denote a mean or standard removed from the extremes. young socrates: here are two vast divisions, embracing two very different spheres. stranger: there are many accomplished men, socrates, who say, believing themselves to speak wisely, that the art of measurement is universal, and has to do with all things. and this means what we are now saying; for all things which come within the province of art do certainly in some sense partake of measure. but these persons, because they are not accustomed to distinguish classes according to real forms, jumble together two widely different things, relation to one another, and to a standard, under the idea that they are the same, and also fall into the converse error of dividing other things not according to their real parts. whereas the right way is, if a man has first seen the unity of things, to go on with the enquiry and not desist until he has found all the differences contained in it which form distinct classes; nor again should he be able to rest contented with the manifold diversities which are seen in a multitude of things until he has comprehended all of them that have any affinity within the bounds of one similarity and embraced them within the reality of a single kind. but we have said enough on this head, and also of excess and defect; we have only to bear in mind that two divisions of the art of measurement have been discovered which are concerned with them, and not forget what they are. young socrates: we will not forget. stranger: and now that this discussion is completed, let us go on to consider another question, which concerns not this argument only but the conduct of such arguments in general. young socrates: what is this new question? stranger: take the case of a child who is engaged in learning his letters: when he is asked what letters make up a word, should we say that the question is intended to improve his grammatical knowledge of that particular word, or of all words? young socrates: clearly, in order that he may have a better knowledge of all words. stranger: and is our enquiry about the statesman intended only to improve our knowledge of politics, or our power of reasoning generally? young socrates: clearly, as in the former example, the purpose is general. stranger: still less would any rational man seek to analyse the notion of weaving for its own sake. but people seem to forget that some things have sensible images, which are readily known, and can be easily pointed out when any one desires to answer an enquirer without any trouble or argument; whereas the greatest and highest truths have no outward image of themselves visible to man, which he who wishes to satisfy the soul of the enquirer can adapt to the eye of sense (compare phaedr.), and therefore we ought to train ourselves to give and accept a rational account of them; for immaterial things, which are the noblest and greatest, are shown only in thought and idea, and in no other way, and all that we are now saying is said for the sake of them. moreover, there is always less difficulty in fixing the mind on small matters than on great. young socrates: very good. stranger: let us call to mind the bearing of all this. young socrates: what is it? stranger: i wanted to get rid of any impression of tediousness which we may have experienced in the discussion about weaving, and the reversal of the universe, and in the discussion concerning the sophist and the being of not-being. i know that they were felt to be too long, and i reproached myself with this, fearing that they might be not only tedious but irrelevant; and all that i have now said is only designed to prevent the recurrence of any such disagreeables for the future. young socrates: very good. will you proceed? stranger: then i would like to observe that you and i, remembering what has been said, should praise or blame the length or shortness of discussions, not by comparing them with one another, but with what is fitting, having regard to the part of measurement, which, as we said, was to be borne in mind. young socrates: very true. stranger: and yet, not everything is to be judged even with a view to what is fitting; for we should only want such a length as is suited to give pleasure, if at all, as a secondary matter; and reason tells us, that we should be contented to make the ease or rapidity of an enquiry, not our first, but our second object; the first and highest of all being to assert the great method of division according to species--whether the discourse be shorter or longer is not to the point. no offence should be taken at length, but the longer and shorter are to be employed indifferently, according as either of them is better calculated to sharpen the wits of the auditors. reason would also say to him who censures the length of discourses on such occasions and cannot away with their circumlocution, that he should not be in such a hurry to have done with them, when he can only complain that they are tedious, but he should prove that if they had been shorter they would have made those who took part in them better dialecticians, and more capable of expressing the truth of things; about any other praise and blame, he need not trouble himself--he should pretend not to hear them. but we have had enough of this, as you will probably agree with me in thinking. let us return to our statesman, and apply to his case the aforesaid example of weaving. young socrates: very good;--let us do as you say. stranger: the art of the king has been separated from the similar arts of shepherds, and, indeed, from all those which have to do with herds at all. there still remain, however, of the causal and co-operative arts those which are immediately concerned with states, and which must first be distinguished from one another. young socrates: very good. stranger: you know that these arts cannot easily be divided into two halves; the reason will be very evident as we proceed. young socrates: then we had better do so. stranger: we must carve them like a victim into members or limbs, since we cannot bisect them. (compare phaedr.) for we certainly should divide everything into as few parts as possible. young socrates: what is to be done in this case? stranger: what we did in the example of weaving--all those arts which furnish the tools were regarded by us as co-operative. young socrates: yes. stranger: so now, and with still more reason, all arts which make any implement in a state, whether great or small, may be regarded by us as co-operative, for without them neither state nor statesmanship would be possible; and yet we are not inclined to say that any of them is a product of the kingly art. young socrates: no, indeed. stranger: the task of separating this class from others is not an easy one; for there is plausibility in saying that anything in the world is the instrument of doing something. but there is another class of possessions in a city, of which i have a word to say. young socrates: what class do you mean? stranger: a class which may be described as not having this power; that is to say, not like an instrument, framed for production, but designed for the preservation of that which is produced. young socrates: to what do you refer? stranger: to the class of vessels, as they are comprehensively termed, which are constructed for the preservation of things moist and dry, of things prepared in the fire or out of the fire; this is a very large class, and has, if i am not mistaken, literally nothing to do with the royal art of which we are in search. young socrates: certainly not. stranger: there is also a third class of possessions to be noted, different from these and very extensive, moving or resting on land or water, honourable and also dishonourable. the whole of this class has one name, because it is intended to be sat upon, being always a seat for something. young socrates: what is it? stranger: a vehicle, which is certainly not the work of the statesman, but of the carpenter, potter, and coppersmith. young socrates: i understand. stranger: and is there not a fourth class which is again different, and in which most of the things formerly mentioned are contained,--every kind of dress, most sorts of arms, walls and enclosures, whether of earth or stone, and ten thousand other things? all of which being made for the sake of defence, may be truly called defences, and are for the most part to be regarded as the work of the builder or of the weaver, rather than of the statesman. young socrates: certainly. stranger: shall we add a fifth class, of ornamentation and drawing, and of the imitations produced by drawing and music, which are designed for amusement only, and may be fairly comprehended under one name? young socrates: what is it? stranger: plaything is the name. young socrates: certainly. stranger: that one name may be fitly predicated of all of them, for none of these things have a serious purpose--amusement is their sole aim. young socrates: that again i understand. stranger: then there is a class which provides materials for all these, out of which and in which the arts already mentioned fabricate their works;--this manifold class, i say, which is the creation and offspring of many other arts, may i not rank sixth? young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: i am referring to gold, silver, and other metals, and all that wood-cutting and shearing of every sort provides for the art of carpentry and plaiting; and there is the process of barking and stripping the cuticle of plants, and the currier's art, which strips off the skins of animals, and other similar arts which manufacture corks and papyri and cords, and provide for the manufacture of composite species out of simple kinds--the whole class may be termed the primitive and simple possession of man, and with this the kingly science has no concern at all. young socrates: true. stranger: the provision of food and of all other things which mingle their particles with the particles of the human body, and minister to the body, will form a seventh class, which may be called by the general term of nourishment, unless you have any better name to offer. this, however, appertains rather to the husbandman, huntsman, trainer, doctor, cook, and is not to be assigned to the statesman's art. young socrates: certainly not. stranger: these seven classes include nearly every description of property, with the exception of tame animals. consider;--there was the original material, which ought to have been placed first; next come instruments, vessels, vehicles, defences, playthings, nourishment; small things, which may be included under one of these--as for example, coins, seals and stamps, are omitted, for they have not in them the character of any larger kind which includes them; but some of them may, with a little forcing, be placed among ornaments, and others may be made to harmonize with the class of implements. the art of herding, which has been already divided into parts, will include all property in tame animals, except slaves. young socrates: very true. stranger: the class of slaves and ministers only remains, and i suspect that in this the real aspirants for the throne, who are the rivals of the king in the formation of the political web, will be discovered; just as spinners, carders, and the rest of them, were the rivals of the weaver. all the others, who were termed co-operators, have been got rid of among the occupations already mentioned, and separated from the royal and political science. young socrates: i agree. stranger: let us go a little nearer, in order that we may be more certain of the complexion of this remaining class. young socrates: let us do so. stranger: we shall find from our present point of view that the greatest servants are in a case and condition which is the reverse of what we anticipated. young socrates: who are they? stranger: those who have been purchased, and have so become possessions; these are unmistakably slaves, and certainly do not claim royal science. young socrates: certainly not. stranger: again, freemen who of their own accord become the servants of the other classes in a state, and who exchange and equalise the products of husbandry and the other arts, some sitting in the market-place, others going from city to city by land or sea, and giving money in exchange for money or for other productions--the money-changer, the merchant, the ship-owner, the retailer, will not put in any claim to statecraft or politics? young socrates: no; unless, indeed, to the politics of commerce. stranger: but surely men whom we see acting as hirelings and serfs, and too happy to turn their hand to anything, will not profess to share in royal science? young socrates: certainly not. stranger: but what would you say of some other serviceable officials? young socrates: who are they, and what services do they perform? stranger: there are heralds, and scribes perfected by practice, and divers others who have great skill in various sorts of business connected with the government of states--what shall we call them? young socrates: they are the officials, and servants of the rulers, as you just now called them, but not themselves rulers. stranger: there may be something strange in any servant pretending to be a ruler, and yet i do not think that i could have been dreaming when i imagined that the principal claimants to political science would be found somewhere in this neighbourhood. young socrates: very true. stranger: well, let us draw nearer, and try the claims of some who have not yet been tested: in the first place, there are diviners, who have a portion of servile or ministerial science, and are thought to be the interpreters of the gods to men. young socrates: true. stranger: there is also the priestly class, who, as the law declares, know how to give the gods gifts from men in the form of sacrifices which are acceptable to them, and to ask on our behalf blessings in return from them. now both these are branches of the servile or ministerial art. young socrates: yes, clearly. stranger: and here i think that we seem to be getting on the right track; for the priest and the diviner are swollen with pride and prerogative, and they create an awful impression of themselves by the magnitude of their enterprises; in egypt, the king himself is not allowed to reign, unless he have priestly powers, and if he should be of another class and has thrust himself in, he must get enrolled in the priesthood. in many parts of hellas, the duty of offering the most solemn propitiatory sacrifices is assigned to the highest magistracies, and here, at athens, the most solemn and national of the ancient sacrifices are supposed to be celebrated by him who has been chosen by lot to be the king archon. young socrates: precisely. stranger: but who are these other kings and priests elected by lot who now come into view followed by their retainers and a vast throng, as the former class disappears and the scene changes? young socrates: whom can you mean? stranger: they are a strange crew. young socrates: why strange? stranger: a minute ago i thought that they were animals of every tribe; for many of them are like lions and centaurs, and many more like satyrs and such weak and shifty creatures;--protean shapes quickly changing into one another's forms and natures; and now, socrates, i begin to see who they are. young socrates: who are they? you seem to be gazing on some strange vision. stranger: yes; every one looks strange when you do not know him; and just now i myself fell into this mistake--at first sight, coming suddenly upon him, i did not recognize the politician and his troop. young socrates: who is he? stranger: the chief of sophists and most accomplished of wizards, who must at any cost be separated from the true king or statesman, if we are ever to see daylight in the present enquiry. young socrates: that is a hope not lightly to be renounced. stranger: never, if i can help it; and, first, let me ask you a question. young socrates: what? stranger: is not monarchy a recognized form of government? young socrates: yes. stranger: and, after monarchy, next in order comes the government of the few? young socrates: of course. stranger: is not the third form of government the rule of the multitude, which is called by the name of democracy? young socrates: certainly. stranger: and do not these three expand in a manner into five, producing out of themselves two other names? young socrates: what are they? young socrates: what are they? stranger: there is a criterion of voluntary and involuntary, poverty and riches, law and the absence of law, which men now-a-days apply to them; the two first they subdivide accordingly, and ascribe to monarchy two forms and two corresponding names, royalty and tyranny. young socrates: very true. stranger: and the government of the few they distinguish by the names of aristocracy and oligarchy. young socrates: certainly. stranger: democracy alone, whether rigidly observing the laws or not, and whether the multitude rule over the men of property with their consent or against their consent, always in ordinary language has the same name. young socrates: true. stranger: but do you suppose that any form of government which is defined by these characteristics of the one, the few, or the many, of poverty or wealth, of voluntary or compulsory submission, of written law or the absence of law, can be a right one? young socrates: why not? stranger: reflect; and follow me. young socrates: in what direction? stranger: shall we abide by what we said at first, or shall we retract our words? young socrates: to what do you refer? stranger: if i am not mistaken, we said that royal power was a science? young socrates: yes. stranger: and a science of a peculiar kind, which was selected out of the rest as having a character which is at once judicial and authoritative? young socrates: yes. stranger: and there was one kind of authority over lifeless things and another other living animals; and so we proceeded in the division step by step up to this point, not losing the idea of science, but unable as yet to determine the nature of the particular science? young socrates: true. stranger: hence we are led to observe that the distinguishing principle of the state cannot be the few or many, the voluntary or involuntary, poverty or riches; but some notion of science must enter into it, if we are to be consistent with what has preceded. young socrates: and we must be consistent. stranger: well, then, in which of these various forms of states may the science of government, which is among the greatest of all sciences and most difficult to acquire, be supposed to reside? that we must discover, and then we shall see who are the false politicians who pretend to be politicians but are not, although they persuade many, and shall separate them from the wise king. young socrates: that, as the argument has already intimated, will be our duty. stranger: do you think that the multitude in a state can attain political science? young socrates: impossible. stranger: but, perhaps, in a city of a thousand men, there would be a hundred, or say fifty, who could? young socrates: in that case political science would certainly be the easiest of all sciences; there could not be found in a city of that number as many really first-rate draught-players, if judged by the standard of the rest of hellas, and there would certainly not be as many kings. for kings we may truly call those who possess royal science, whether they rule or not, as was shown in the previous argument. stranger: thank you for reminding me; and the consequence is that any true form of government can only be supposed to be the government of one, two, or, at any rate, of a few. young socrates: certainly. stranger: and these, whether they rule with the will, or against the will, of their subjects, with written laws or without written laws, and whether they are poor or rich, and whatever be the nature of their rule, must be supposed, according to our present view, to rule on some scientific principle; just as the physician, whether he cures us against our will or with our will, and whatever be his mode of treatment,--incision, burning, or the infliction of some other pain,--whether he practises out of a book or not out of a book, and whether he be rich or poor, whether he purges or reduces in some other way, or even fattens his patients, is a physician all the same, so long as he exercises authority over them according to rules of art, if he only does them good and heals and saves them. and this we lay down to be the only proper test of the art of medicine, or of any other art of command. young socrates: quite true. stranger: then that can be the only true form of government in which the governors are really found to possess science, and are not mere pretenders, whether they rule according to law or without law, over willing or unwilling subjects, and are rich or poor themselves--none of these things can with any propriety be included in the notion of the ruler. young socrates: true. stranger: and whether with a view to the public good they purge the state by killing some, or exiling some; whether they reduce the size of the body corporate by sending out from the hive swarms of citizens, or, by introducing persons from without, increase it; while they act according to the rules of wisdom and justice, and use their power with a view to the general security and improvement, the city over which they rule, and which has these characteristics, may be described as the only true state. all other governments are not genuine or real; but only imitations of this, and some of them are better and some of them are worse; the better are said to be well governed, but they are mere imitations like the others. young socrates: i agree, stranger, in the greater part of what you say; but as to their ruling without laws--the expression has a harsh sound. stranger: you have been too quick for me, socrates; i was just going to ask you whether you objected to any of my statements. and now i see that we shall have to consider this notion of there being good government without laws. young socrates: certainly. stranger: there can be no doubt that legislation is in a manner the business of a king, and yet the best thing of all is not that the law should rule, but that a man should rule supposing him to have wisdom and royal power. do you see why this is? young socrates: why? stranger: because the law does not perfectly comprehend what is noblest and most just for all and therefore cannot enforce what is best. the differences of men and actions, and the endless irregular movements of human things, do not admit of any universal and simple rule. and no art whatsoever can lay down a rule which will last for all time. young socrates: of course not. stranger: but the law is always striving to make one;--like an obstinate and ignorant tyrant, who will not allow anything to be done contrary to his appointment, or any question to be asked--not even in sudden changes of circumstances, when something happens to be better than what he commanded for some one. young socrates: certainly; the law treats us all precisely in the manner which you describe. stranger: a perfectly simple principle can never be applied to a state of things which is the reverse of simple. young socrates: true. stranger: then if the law is not the perfection of right, why are we compelled to make laws at all? the reason of this has next to be investigated. young socrates: certainly. stranger: let me ask, whether you have not meetings for gymnastic contests in your city, such as there are in other cities, at which men compete in running, wrestling, and the like? young socrates: yes; they are very common among us. stranger: and what are the rules which are enforced on their pupils by professional trainers or by others having similar authority? can you remember? young socrates: to what do you refer? stranger: the training-masters do not issue minute rules for individuals, or give every individual what is exactly suited to his constitution; they think that they ought to go more roughly to work, and to prescribe generally the regimen which will benefit the majority. young socrates: very true. stranger: and therefore they assign equal amounts of exercise to them all; they send them forth together, and let them rest together from their running, wrestling, or whatever the form of bodily exercise may be. young socrates: true. stranger: and now observe that the legislator who has to preside over the herd, and to enforce justice in their dealings with one another, will not be able, in enacting for the general good, to provide exactly what is suitable for each particular case. young socrates: he cannot be expected to do so. stranger: he will lay down laws in a general form for the majority, roughly meeting the cases of individuals; and some of them he will deliver in writing, and others will be unwritten; and these last will be traditional customs of the country. young socrates: he will be right. stranger: yes, quite right; for how can he sit at every man's side all through his life, prescribing for him the exact particulars of his duty? who, socrates, would be equal to such a task? no one who really had the royal science, if he had been able to do this, would have imposed upon himself the restriction of a written law. young socrates: so i should infer from what has now been said. stranger: or rather, my good friend, from what is going to be said. young socrates: and what is that? stranger: let us put to ourselves the case of a physician, or trainer, who is about to go into a far country, and is expecting to be a long time away from his patients--thinking that his instructions will not be remembered unless they are written down, he will leave notes of them for the use of his pupils or patients. young socrates: true. stranger: but what would you say, if he came back sooner than he had intended, and, owing to an unexpected change of the winds or other celestial influences, something else happened to be better for them,--would he not venture to suggest this new remedy, although not contemplated in his former prescription? would he persist in observing the original law, neither himself giving any new commandments, nor the patient daring to do otherwise than was prescribed, under the idea that this course only was healthy and medicinal, all others noxious and heterodox? viewed in the light of science and true art, would not all such enactments be utterly ridiculous? young socrates: utterly. stranger: and if he who gave laws, written or unwritten, determining what was good or bad, honourable or dishonourable, just or unjust, to the tribes of men who flock together in their several cities, and are governed in accordance with them; if, i say, the wise legislator were suddenly to come again, or another like to him, is he to be prohibited from changing them?--would not this prohibition be in reality quite as ridiculous as the other? young socrates: certainly. stranger: do you know a plausible saying of the common people which is in point? young socrates: i do not recall what you mean at the moment. stranger: they say that if any one knows how the ancient laws may be improved, he must first persuade his own state of the improvement, and then he may legislate, but not otherwise. young socrates: and are they not right? stranger: i dare say. but supposing that he does use some gentle violence for their good, what is this violence to be called? or rather, before you answer, let me ask the same question in reference to our previous instances. young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: suppose that a skilful physician has a patient, of whatever sex or age, whom he compels against his will to do something for his good which is contrary to the written rules; what is this compulsion to be called? would you ever dream of calling it a violation of the art, or a breach of the laws of health? nothing could be more unjust than for the patient to whom such violence is applied, to charge the physician who practises the violence with wanting skill or aggravating his disease. young socrates: most true. stranger: in the political art error is not called disease, but evil, or disgrace, or injustice. young socrates: quite true. stranger: and when the citizen, contrary to law and custom, is compelled to do what is juster and better and nobler than he did before, the last and most absurd thing which he could say about such violence is that he has incurred disgrace or evil or injustice at the hands of those who compelled him. young socrates: very true. stranger: and shall we say that the violence, if exercised by a rich man, is just, and if by a poor man, unjust? may not any man, rich or poor, with or without laws, with the will of the citizens or against the will of the citizens, do what is for their interest? is not this the true principle of government, according to which the wise and good man will order the affairs of his subjects? as the pilot, by watching continually over the interests of the ship and of the crew,--not by laying down rules, but by making his art a law,--preserves the lives of his fellow-sailors, even so, and in the self-same way, may there not be a true form of polity created by those who are able to govern in a similar spirit, and who show a strength of art which is superior to the law? nor can wise rulers ever err while they observing the one great rule of distributing justice to the citizens with intelligence and skill, are able to preserve them, and, as far as may be, to make them better from being worse. young socrates: no one can deny what has been now said. stranger: neither, if you consider, can any one deny the other statement. young socrates: what was it? stranger: we said that no great number of persons, whoever they may be, can attain political knowledge, or order a state wisely, but that the true government is to be found in a small body, or in an individual, and that other states are but imitations of this, as we said a little while ago, some for the better and some for the worse. young socrates: what do you mean? i cannot have understood your previous remark about imitations. stranger: and yet the mere suggestion which i hastily threw out is highly important, even if we leave the question where it is, and do not seek by the discussion of it to expose the error which prevails in this matter. young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: the idea which has to be grasped by us is not easy or familiar; but we may attempt to express it thus:--supposing the government of which i have been speaking to be the only true model, then the others must use the written laws of this--in no other way can they be saved; they will have to do what is now generally approved, although not the best thing in the world. young socrates: what is this? stranger: no citizen should do anything contrary to the laws, and any infringement of them should be punished with death and the most extreme penalties; and this is very right and good when regarded as the second best thing, if you set aside the first, of which i was just now speaking. shall i explain the nature of what i call the second best? young socrates: by all means. stranger: i must again have recourse to my favourite images; through them, and them alone, can i describe kings and rulers. young socrates: what images? stranger: the noble pilot and the wise physician, who 'is worth many another man'--in the similitude of these let us endeavour to discover some image of the king. young socrates: what sort of an image? stranger: well, such as this:--every man will reflect that he suffers strange things at the hands of both of them; the physician saves any whom he wishes to save, and any whom he wishes to maltreat he maltreats--cutting or burning them; and at the same time requiring them to bring him payments, which are a sort of tribute, of which little or nothing is spent upon the sick man, and the greater part is consumed by him and his domestics; and the finale is that he receives money from the relations of the sick man or from some enemy of his, and puts him out of the way. and the pilots of ships are guilty of numberless evil deeds of the same kind; they intentionally play false and leave you ashore when the hour of sailing arrives; or they cause mishaps at sea and cast away their freight; and are guilty of other rogueries. now suppose that we, bearing all this in mind, were to determine, after consideration, that neither of these arts shall any longer be allowed to exercise absolute control either over freemen or over slaves, but that we will summon an assembly either of all the people, or of the rich only, that anybody who likes, whatever may be his calling, or even if he have no calling, may offer an opinion either about seamanship or about diseases--whether as to the manner in which physic or surgical instruments are to be applied to the patient, or again about the vessels and the nautical implements which are required in navigation, and how to meet the dangers of winds and waves which are incidental to the voyage, how to behave when encountering pirates, and what is to be done with the old-fashioned galleys, if they have to fight with others of a similar build--and that, whatever shall be decreed by the multitude on these points, upon the advice of persons skilled or unskilled, shall be written down on triangular tablets and columns, or enacted although unwritten to be national customs; and that in all future time vessels shall be navigated and remedies administered to the patient after this fashion. young socrates: what a strange notion! stranger: suppose further, that the pilots and physicians are appointed annually, either out of the rich, or out of the whole people, and that they are elected by lot; and that after their election they navigate vessels and heal the sick according to the written rules. young socrates: worse and worse. stranger: but hear what follows:--when the year of office has expired, the pilot or physician has to come before a court of review, in which the judges are either selected from the wealthy classes or chosen by lot out of the whole people; and anybody who pleases may be their accuser, and may lay to their charge, that during the past year they have not navigated their vessels or healed their patients according to the letter of the law and the ancient customs of their ancestors; and if either of them is condemned, some of the judges must fix what he is to suffer or pay. young socrates: he who is willing to take a command under such conditions, deserves to suffer any penalty. stranger: yet once more, we shall have to enact that if any one is detected enquiring into piloting and navigation, or into health and the true nature of medicine, or about the winds, or other conditions of the atmosphere, contrary to the written rules, and has any ingenious notions about such matters, he is not to be called a pilot or physician, but a cloudy prating sophist;--further, on the ground that he is a corrupter of the young, who would persuade them to follow the art of medicine or piloting in an unlawful manner, and to exercise an arbitrary rule over their patients or ships, any one who is qualified by law may inform against him, and indict him in some court, and then if he is found to be persuading any, whether young or old, to act contrary to the written law, he is to be punished with the utmost rigour; for no one should presume to be wiser than the laws; and as touching healing and health and piloting and navigation, the nature of them is known to all, for anybody may learn the written laws and the national customs. if such were the mode of procedure, socrates, about these sciences and about generalship, and any branch of hunting, or about painting or imitation in general, or carpentry, or any sort of handicraft, or husbandry, or planting, or if we were to see an art of rearing horses, or tending herds, or divination, or any ministerial service, or draught-playing, or any science conversant with number, whether simple or square or cube, or comprising motion,--i say, if all these things were done in this way according to written regulations, and not according to art, what would be the result? young socrates: all the arts would utterly perish, and could never be recovered, because enquiry would be unlawful. and human life, which is bad enough already, would then become utterly unendurable. stranger: but what, if while compelling all these operations to be regulated by written law, we were to appoint as the guardian of the laws some one elected by a show of hands, or by lot, and he caring nothing about the laws, were to act contrary to them from motives of interest or favour, and without knowledge,--would not this be a still worse evil than the former? young socrates: very true. stranger: to go against the laws, which are based upon long experience, and the wisdom of counsellors who have graciously recommended them and persuaded the multitude to pass them, would be a far greater and more ruinous error than any adherence to written law? young socrates: certainly. stranger: therefore, as there is a danger of this, the next best thing in legislating is not to allow either the individual or the multitude to break the law in any respect whatever. young socrates: true. stranger: the laws would be copies of the true particulars of action as far as they admit of being written down from the lips of those who have knowledge? young socrates: certainly they would. stranger: and, as we were saying, he who has knowledge and is a true statesman, will do many things within his own sphere of action by his art without regard to the laws, when he is of opinion that something other than that which he has written down and enjoined to be observed during his absence would be better. young socrates: yes, we said so. stranger: and any individual or any number of men, having fixed laws, in acting contrary to them with a view to something better, would only be acting, as far as they are able, like the true statesman? young socrates: certainly. stranger: if they had no knowledge of what they were doing, they would imitate the truth, and they would always imitate ill; but if they had knowledge, the imitation would be the perfect truth, and an imitation no longer. young socrates: quite true. stranger: and the principle that no great number of men are able to acquire a knowledge of any art has been already admitted by us. young socrates: yes, it has. stranger: then the royal or political art, if there be such an art, will never be attained either by the wealthy or by the other mob. young socrates: impossible. stranger: then the nearest approach which these lower forms of government can ever make to the true government of the one scientific ruler, is to do nothing contrary to their own written laws and national customs. young socrates: very good. stranger: when the rich imitate the true form, such a government is called aristocracy; and when they are regardless of the laws, oligarchy. young socrates: true. stranger: or again, when an individual rules according to law in imitation of him who knows, we call him a king; and if he rules according to law, we give him the same name, whether he rules with opinion or with knowledge. young socrates: to be sure. stranger: and when an individual truly possessing knowledge rules, his name will surely be the same--he will be called a king; and thus the five names of governments, as they are now reckoned, become one. young socrates: that is true. stranger: and when an individual ruler governs neither by law nor by custom, but following in the steps of the true man of science pretends that he can only act for the best by violating the laws, while in reality appetite and ignorance are the motives of the imitation, may not such an one be called a tyrant? young socrates: certainly. stranger: and this we believe to be the origin of the tyrant and the king, of oligarchies, and aristocracies, and democracies,--because men are offended at the one monarch, and can never be made to believe that any one can be worthy of such authority, or is able and willing in the spirit of virtue and knowledge to act justly and holily to all; they fancy that he will be a despot who will wrong and harm and slay whom he pleases of us; for if there could be such a despot as we describe, they would acknowledge that we ought to be too glad to have him, and that he alone would be the happy ruler of a true and perfect state. young socrates: to be sure. stranger: but then, as the state is not like a beehive, and has no natural head who is at once recognized to be the superior both in body and in mind, mankind are obliged to meet and make laws, and endeavour to approach as nearly as they can to the true form of government. young socrates: true. stranger: and when the foundation of politics is in the letter only and in custom, and knowledge is divorced from action, can we wonder, socrates, at the miseries which there are, and always will be, in states? any other art, built on such a foundation and thus conducted, would ruin all that it touched. ought we not rather to wonder at the natural strength of the political bond? for states have endured all this, time out of mind, and yet some of them still remain and are not overthrown, though many of them, like ships at sea, founder from time to time, and perish and have perished and will hereafter perish, through the badness of their pilots and crews, who have the worst sort of ignorance of the highest truths--i mean to say, that they are wholly unaquainted with politics, of which, above all other sciences, they believe themselves to have acquired the most perfect knowledge. young socrates: very true. stranger: then the question arises:--which of these untrue forms of government is the least oppressive to their subjects, though they are all oppressive; and which is the worst of them? here is a consideration which is beside our present purpose, and yet having regard to the whole it seems to influence all our actions: we must examine it. young socrates: yes, we must. stranger: you may say that of the three forms, the same is at once the hardest and the easiest. young socrates: what do you mean? stranger: i am speaking of the three forms of government, which i mentioned at the beginning of this discussion--monarchy, the rule of the few, and the rule of the many. young socrates: true. stranger: if we divide each of these we shall have six, from which the true one may be distinguished as a seventh. young socrates: how would you make the division? stranger: monarchy divides into royalty and tyranny; the rule of the few into aristocracy, which has an auspicious name, and oligarchy; and democracy or the rule of the many, which before was one, must now be divided. young socrates: on what principle of division? stranger: on the same principle as before, although the name is now discovered to have a twofold meaning. for the distinction of ruling with law or without law, applies to this as well as to the rest. young socrates: yes. stranger: the division made no difference when we were looking for the perfect state, as we showed before. but now that this has been separated off, and, as we said, the others alone are left for us, the principle of law and the absence of law will bisect them all. young socrates: that would seem to follow, from what has been said. stranger: then monarchy, when bound by good prescriptions or laws, is the best of all the six, and when lawless is the most bitter and oppressive to the subject. young socrates: true. stranger: the government of the few, which is intermediate between that of the one and many, is also intermediate in good and evil; but the government of the many is in every respect weak and unable to do either any great good or any great evil, when compared with the others, because the offices are too minutely subdivided and too many hold them. and this therefore is the worst of all lawful governments, and the best of all lawless ones. if they are all without the restraints of law, democracy is the form in which to live is best; if they are well ordered, then this is the last which you should choose, as royalty, the first form, is the best, with the exception of the seventh, for that excels them all, and is among states what god is among men. young socrates: you are quite right, and we should choose that above all. stranger: the members of all these states, with the exception of the one which has knowledge, may be set aside as being not statesmen but partisans,--upholders of the most monstrous idols, and themselves idols; and, being the greatest imitators and magicians, they are also the greatest of sophists. young socrates: the name of sophist after many windings in the argument appears to have been most justly fixed upon the politicians, as they are termed. stranger: and so our satyric drama has been played out; and the troop of centaurs and satyrs, however unwilling to leave the stage, have at last been separated from the political science. young socrates: so i perceive. stranger: there remain, however, natures still more troublesome, because they are more nearly akin to the king, and more difficult to discern; the examination of them may be compared to the process of refining gold. young socrates: what is your meaning? stranger: the workmen begin by sifting away the earth and stones and the like; there remain in a confused mass the valuable elements akin to gold, which can only be separated by fire,--copper, silver, and other precious metal; these are at last refined away by the use of tests, until the gold is left quite pure. young socrates: yes, that is the way in which these things are said to be done. stranger: in like manner, all alien and uncongenial matter has been separated from political science, and what is precious and of a kindred nature has been left; there remain the nobler arts of the general and the judge, and the higher sort of oratory which is an ally of the royal art, and persuades men to do justice, and assists in guiding the helm of states:--how can we best clear away all these, leaving him whom we seek alone and unalloyed? young socrates: that is obviously what has in some way to be attempted. stranger: if the attempt is all that is wanting, he shall certainly be brought to light; and i think that the illustration of music may assist in exhibiting him. please to answer me a question. young socrates: what question? stranger: there is such a thing as learning music or handicraft arts in general? young socrates: there is. stranger: and is there any higher art or science, having power to decide which of these arts are and are not to be learned;--what do you say? young socrates: i should answer that there is. stranger: and do we acknowledge this science to be different from the others? young socrates: yes. stranger: and ought the other sciences to be superior to this, or no single science to any other? or ought this science to be the overseer and governor of all the others? young socrates: the latter. stranger: you mean to say that the science which judges whether we ought to learn or not, must be superior to the science which is learned or which teaches? young socrates: far superior. stranger: and the science which determines whether we ought to persuade or not, must be superior to the science which is able to persuade? young socrates: of course. stranger: very good; and to what science do we assign the power of persuading a multitude by a pleasing tale and not by teaching? young socrates: that power, i think, must clearly be assigned to rhetoric. stranger: and to what science do we give the power of determining whether we are to employ persuasion or force towards any one, or to refrain altogether? young socrates: to that science which governs the arts of speech and persuasion. stranger: which, if i am not mistaken, will be politics? young socrates: very good. stranger: rhetoric seems to be quickly distinguished from politics, being a different species, yet ministering to it. young socrates: yes. stranger: but what would you think of another sort of power or science? young socrates: what science? stranger: the science which has to do with military operations against our enemies--is that to be regarded as a science or not? young socrates: how can generalship and military tactics be regarded as other than a science? stranger: and is the art which is able and knows how to advise when we are to go to war, or to make peace, the same as this or different? young socrates: if we are to be consistent, we must say different. stranger: and we must also suppose that this rules the other, if we are not to give up our former notion? young socrates: true. stranger: and, considering how great and terrible the whole art of war is, can we imagine any which is superior to it but the truly royal? young socrates: no other. stranger: the art of the general is only ministerial, and therefore not political? young socrates: exactly. stranger: once more let us consider the nature of the righteous judge. young socrates: very good. stranger: does he do anything but decide the dealings of men with one another to be just or unjust in accordance with the standard which he receives from the king and legislator,--showing his own peculiar virtue only in this, that he is not perverted by gifts, or fears, or pity, or by any sort of favour or enmity, into deciding the suits of men with one another contrary to the appointment of the legislator? young socrates: no; his office is such as you describe. stranger: then the inference is that the power of the judge is not royal, but only the power of a guardian of the law which ministers to the royal power? young socrates: true. stranger: the review of all these sciences shows that none of them is political or royal. for the truly royal ought not itself to act, but to rule over those who are able to act; the king ought to know what is and what is not a fitting opportunity for taking the initiative in matters of the greatest importance, whilst others should execute his orders. young socrates: true. stranger: and, therefore, the arts which we have described, as they have no authority over themselves or one another, but are each of them concerned with some special action of their own, have, as they ought to have, special names corresponding to their several actions. young socrates: i agree. stranger: and the science which is over them all, and has charge of the laws, and of all matters affecting the state, and truly weaves them all into one, if we would describe under a name characteristic of their common nature, most truly we may call politics. young socrates: exactly so. stranger: then, now that we have discovered the various classes in a state, shall i analyse politics after the pattern which weaving supplied? young socrates: i greatly wish that you would. stranger: then i must describe the nature of the royal web, and show how the various threads are woven into one piece. young socrates: clearly. stranger: a task has to be accomplished, which, although difficult, appears to be necessary. young socrates: certainly the attempt must be made. stranger: to assume that one part of virtue differs in kind from another, is a position easily assailable by contentious disputants, who appeal to popular opinion. young socrates: i do not understand. stranger: let me put the matter in another way: i suppose that you would consider courage to be a part of virtue? young socrates: certainly i should. stranger: and you would think temperance to be different from courage; and likewise to be a part of virtue? young socrates: true. stranger: i shall venture to put forward a strange theory about them. young socrates: what is it? stranger: that they are two principles which thoroughly hate one another and are antagonistic throughout a great part of nature. young socrates: how singular! stranger: yes, very--for all the parts of virtue are commonly said to be friendly to one another. young socrates: yes. stranger: then let us carefully investigate whether this is universally true, or whether there are not parts of virtue which are at war with their kindred in some respect. young socrates: tell me how we shall consider that question. stranger: we must extend our enquiry to all those things which we consider beautiful and at the same time place in two opposite classes. young socrates: explain; what are they? stranger: acuteness and quickness, whether in body or soul or in the movement of sound, and the imitations of them which painting and music supply, you must have praised yourself before now, or been present when others praised them. young socrates: certainly. stranger: and do you remember the terms in which they are praised? young socrates: i do not. stranger: i wonder whether i can explain to you in words the thought which is passing in my mind. young socrates: why not? stranger: you fancy that this is all so easy: well, let us consider these notions with reference to the opposite classes of action under which they fall. when we praise quickness and energy and acuteness, whether of mind or body or sound, we express our praise of the quality which we admire by one word, and that one word is manliness or courage. young socrates: how? stranger: we speak of an action as energetic and brave, quick and manly, and vigorous too; and when we apply the name of which i speak as the common attribute of all these natures, we certainly praise them. young socrates: true. stranger: and do we not often praise the quiet strain of action also? young socrates: to be sure. stranger: and do we not then say the opposite of what we said of the other? young socrates: how do you mean? stranger: we exclaim how calm! how temperate! in admiration of the slow and quiet working of the intellect, and of steadiness and gentleness in action, of smoothness and depth of voice, and of all rhythmical movement and of music in general, when these have a proper solemnity. of all such actions we predicate not courage, but a name indicative of order. young socrates: very true. stranger: but when, on the other hand, either of these is out of place, the names of either are changed into terms of censure. young socrates: how so? stranger: too great sharpness or quickness or hardness is termed violence or madness; too great slowness or gentleness is called cowardice or sluggishness; and we may observe, that for the most part these qualities, and the temperance and manliness of the opposite characters, are arrayed as enemies on opposite sides, and do not mingle with one another in their respective actions; and if we pursue the enquiry, we shall find that men who have these different qualities of mind differ from one another. young socrates: in what respect? stranger: in respect of all the qualities which i mentioned, and very likely of many others. according to their respective affinities to either class of actions they distribute praise and blame,--praise to the actions which are akin to their own, blame to those of the opposite party--and out of this many quarrels and occasions of quarrel arise among them. young socrates: true. stranger: the difference between the two classes is often a trivial concern; but in a state, and when affecting really important matters, becomes of all disorders the most hateful. young socrates: to what do you refer? stranger: to nothing short of the whole regulation of human life. for the orderly class are always ready to lead a peaceful life, quietly doing their own business; this is their manner of behaving with all men at home, and they are equally ready to find some way of keeping the peace with foreign states. and on account of this fondness of theirs for peace, which is often out of season where their influence prevails, they become by degrees unwarlike, and bring up their young men to be like themselves; they are at the mercy of their enemies; whence in a few years they and their children and the whole city often pass imperceptibly from the condition of freemen into that of slaves. young socrates: what a cruel fate! stranger: and now think of what happens with the more courageous natures. are they not always inciting their country to go to war, owing to their excessive love of the military life? they raise up enemies against themselves many and mighty, and either utterly ruin their native-land or enslave and subject it to its foes? young socrates: that, again, is true. stranger: must we not admit, then, that where these two classes exist, they always feel the greatest antipathy and antagonism towards one another? young socrates: we cannot deny it. stranger: and returning to the enquiry with which we began, have we not found that considerable portions of virtue are at variance with one another, and give rise to a similar opposition in the characters who are endowed with them? young socrates: true. stranger: let us consider a further point. young socrates: what is it? stranger: i want to know, whether any constructive art will make any, even the most trivial thing, out of bad and good materials indifferently, if this can be helped? does not all art rather reject the bad as far as possible, and accept the good and fit materials, and from these elements, whether like or unlike, gathering them all into one, work out some nature or idea? young socrates: to, be sure. stranger: then the true and natural art of statesmanship will never allow any state to be formed by a combination of good and bad men, if this can be avoided; but will begin by testing human natures in play, and after testing them, will entrust them to proper teachers who are the ministers of her purposes--she will herself give orders, and maintain authority; just as the art of weaving continually gives orders and maintains authority over the carders and all the others who prepare the material for the work, commanding the subsidiary arts to execute the works which she deems necessary for making the web. young socrates: quite true. stranger: in like manner, the royal science appears to me to be the mistress of all lawful educators and instructors, and having this queenly power, will not permit them to train men in what will produce characters unsuited to the political constitution which she desires to create, but only in what will produce such as are suitable. those which have no share of manliness and temperance, or any other virtuous inclination, and, from the necessity of an evil nature, are violently carried away to godlessness and insolence and injustice, she gets rid of by death and exile, and punishes them with the greatest of disgraces. young socrates: that is commonly said. stranger: but those who are wallowing in ignorance and baseness she bows under the yoke of slavery. young socrates: quite right. stranger: the rest of the citizens, out of whom, if they have education, something noble may be made, and who are capable of being united by the statesman, the kingly art blends and weaves together; taking on the one hand those whose natures tend rather to courage, which is the stronger element and may be regarded as the warp, and on the other hand those which incline to order and gentleness, and which are represented in the figure as spun thick and soft, after the manner of the woof--these, which are naturally opposed, she seeks to bind and weave together in the following manner: young socrates: in what manner? stranger: first of all, she takes the eternal element of the soul and binds it with a divine cord, to which it is akin, and then the animal nature, and binds that with human cords. young socrates: i do not understand what you mean. stranger: the meaning is, that the opinion about the honourable and the just and good and their opposites, which is true and confirmed by reason, is a divine principle, and when implanted in the soul, is implanted, as i maintain, in a nature of heavenly birth. young socrates: yes; what else should it be? stranger: only the statesman and the good legislator, having the inspiration of the royal muse, can implant this opinion, and he, only in the rightly educated, whom we were just now describing. young socrates: likely enough. stranger: but him who cannot, we will not designate by any of the names which are the subject of the present enquiry. young socrates: very right. stranger: the courageous soul when attaining this truth becomes civilized, and rendered more capable of partaking of justice; but when not partaking, is inclined to brutality. is not that true? young socrates: certainly. stranger: and again, the peaceful and orderly nature, if sharing in these opinions, becomes temperate and wise, as far as this may be in a state, but if not, deservedly obtains the ignominious name of silliness. young socrates: quite true. stranger: can we say that such a connexion as this will lastingly unite the evil with one another or with the good, or that any science would seriously think of using a bond of this kind to join such materials? young socrates: impossible. stranger: but in those who were originally of a noble nature, and who have been nurtured in noble ways, and in those only, may we not say that union is implanted by law, and that this is the medicine which art prescribes for them, and of all the bonds which unite the dissimilar and contrary parts of virtue is not this, as i was saying, the divinest? young socrates: very true. stranger: where this divine bond exists there is no difficulty in imagining, or when you have imagined, in creating the other bonds, which are human only. young socrates: how is that, and what bonds do you mean? stranger: rights of intermarriage, and ties which are formed between states by giving and taking children in marriage, or between individuals by private betrothals and espousals. for most persons form marriage connexions without due regard to what is best for the procreation of children. young socrates: in what way? stranger: they seek after wealth and power, which in matrimony are objects not worthy even of a serious censure. young socrates: there is no need to consider them at all. stranger: more reason is there to consider the practice of those who make family their chief aim, and to indicate their error. young socrates: quite true. stranger: they act on no true principle at all; they seek their ease and receive with open arms those who are like themselves, and hate those who are unlike them, being too much influenced by feelings of dislike. young socrates: how so? stranger: the quiet orderly class seek for natures like their own, and as far as they can they marry and give in marriage exclusively in this class, and the courageous do the same; they seek natures like their own, whereas they should both do precisely the opposite. young socrates: how and why is that? stranger: because courage, when untempered by the gentler nature during many generations, may at first bloom and strengthen, but at last bursts forth into downright madness. young socrates: like enough. stranger: and then, again, the soul which is over-full of modesty and has no element of courage in many successive generations, is apt to grow too indolent, and at last to become utterly paralyzed and useless. young socrates: that, again, is quite likely. stranger: it was of these bonds i said that there would be no difficulty in creating them, if only both classes originally held the same opinion about the honourable and good;--indeed, in this single work, the whole process of royal weaving is comprised--never to allow temperate natures to be separated from the brave, but to weave them together, like the warp and the woof, by common sentiments and honours and reputation, and by the giving of pledges to one another; and out of them forming one smooth and even web, to entrust to them the offices of state. young socrates: how do you mean? stranger: where one officer only is needed, you must choose a ruler who has both these qualities--when many, you must mingle some of each, for the temperate ruler is very careful and just and safe, but is wanting in thoroughness and go. young socrates: certainly, that is very true. stranger: the character of the courageous, on the other hand, falls short of the former in justice and caution, but has the power of action in a remarkable degree, and where either of these two qualities is wanting, there cities cannot altogether prosper either in their public or private life. young socrates: certainly they cannot. stranger: this then we declare to be the completion of the web of political action, which is created by a direct intertexture of the brave and temperate natures, whenever the royal science has drawn the two minds into communion with one another by unanimity and friendship, and having perfected the noblest and best of all the webs which political life admits, and enfolding therein all other inhabitants of cities, whether slaves or freemen, binds them in one fabric and governs and presides over them, and, in so far as to be happy is vouchsafed to a city, in no particular fails to secure their happiness. young socrates: your picture, stranger, of the king and statesman, no less than of the sophist, is quite perfect. the republic by plato translated by benjamin jowett note: the republic by plato, jowett, etext # introduction and analysis. the republic of plato is the longest of his works with the exception of the laws, and is certainly the greatest of them. there are nearer approaches to modern metaphysics in the philebus and in the sophist; the politicus or statesman is more ideal; the form and institutions of the state are more clearly drawn out in the laws; as works of art, the symposium and the protagoras are of higher excellence. but no other dialogue of plato has the same largeness of view and the same perfection of style; no other shows an equal knowledge of the world, or contains more of those thoughts which are new as well as old, and not of one age only but of all. nowhere in plato is there a deeper irony or a greater wealth of humour or imagery, or more dramatic power. nor in any other of his writings is the attempt made to interweave life and speculation, or to connect politics with philosophy. the republic is the centre around which the other dialogues may be grouped; here philosophy reaches the highest point (cp, especially in books v, vi, vii) to which ancient thinkers ever attained. plato among the greeks, like bacon among the moderns, was the first who conceived a method of knowledge, although neither of them always distinguished the bare outline or form from the substance of truth; and both of them had to be content with an abstraction of science which was not yet realized. he was the greatest metaphysical genius whom the world has seen; and in him, more than in any other ancient thinker, the germs of future knowledge are contained. the sciences of logic and psychology, which have supplied so many instruments of thought to after-ages, are based upon the analyses of socrates and plato. the principles of definition, the law of contradiction, the fallacy of arguing in a circle, the distinction between the essence and accidents of a thing or notion, between means and ends, between causes and conditions; also the division of the mind into the rational, concupiscent, and irascible elements, or of pleasures and desires into necessary and unnecessary--these and other great forms of thought are all of them to be found in the republic, and were probably first invented by plato. the greatest of all logical truths, and the one of which writers on philosophy are most apt to lose sight, the difference between words and things, has been most strenuously insisted on by him (cp. rep.; polit.; cratyl. , ff), although he has not always avoided the confusion of them in his own writings (e.g. rep.). but he does not bind up truth in logical formulae,--logic is still veiled in metaphysics; and the science which he imagines to 'contemplate all truth and all existence' is very unlike the doctrine of the syllogism which aristotle claims to have discovered (soph. elenchi, . ). neither must we forget that the republic is but the third part of a still larger design which was to have included an ideal history of athens, as well as a political and physical philosophy. the fragment of the critias has given birth to a world-famous fiction, second only in importance to the tale of troy and the legend of arthur; and is said as a fact to have inspired some of the early navigators of the sixteenth century. this mythical tale, of which the subject was a history of the wars of the athenians against the island of atlantis, is supposed to be founded upon an unfinished poem of solon, to which it would have stood in the same relation as the writings of the logographers to the poems of homer. it would have told of a struggle for liberty (cp. tim. c), intended to represent the conflict of persia and hellas. we may judge from the noble commencement of the timaeus, from the fragment of the critias itself, and from the third book of the laws, in what manner plato would have treated this high argument. we can only guess why the great design was abandoned; perhaps because plato became sensible of some incongruity in a fictitious history, or because he had lost his interest in it, or because advancing years forbade the completion of it; and we may please ourselves with the fancy that had this imaginary narrative ever been finished, we should have found plato himself sympathising with the struggle for hellenic independence (cp. laws iii. ff.), singing a hymn of triumph over marathon and salamis, perhaps making the reflection of herodotus (v. ) where he contemplates the growth of the athenian empire--'how brave a thing is freedom of speech, which has made the athenians so far exceed every other state of hellas in greatness!' or, more probably, attributing the victory to the ancient good order of athens and to the favor of apollo and athene (cp. introd. to critias). again, plato may be regarded as the 'captain' ('arhchegoz') or leader of a goodly band of followers; for in the republic is to be found the original of cicero's de republica, of st. augustine's city of god, of the utopia of sir thomas more, and of the numerous other imaginary states which are framed upon the same model. the extent to which aristotle or the aristotelian school were indebted to him in the politics has been little recognised, and the recognition is the more necessary because it is not made by aristotle himself. the two philosophers had more in common than they were conscious of; and probably some elements of plato remain still undetected in aristotle. in english philosophy too, many affinities may be traced, not only in the works of the cambridge platonists, but in great original writers like berkeley or coleridge, to plato and his ideas. that there is a truth higher than experience, of which the mind bears witness to herself, is a conviction which in our own generation has been enthusiastically asserted, and is perhaps gaining ground. of the greek authors who at the renaissance brought a new life into the world plato has had the greatest influence. the republic of plato is also the first treatise upon education, of which the writings of milton and locke, rousseau, jean paul, and goethe are the legitimate descendants. like dante or bunyan, he has a revelation of another life; like bacon, he is profoundly impressed with the unity of knowledge; in the early church he exercised a real influence on theology, and at the revival of literature on politics. even the fragments of his words when 'repeated at second-hand' (symp. d) have in all ages ravished the hearts of men, who have seen reflected in them their own higher nature. he is the father of idealism in philosophy, in politics, in literature. and many of the latest conceptions of modern thinkers and statesmen, such as the unity of knowledge, the reign of law, and the equality of the sexes, have been anticipated in a dream by him. the argument of the republic is the search after justice, the nature of which is first hinted at by cephalus, the just and blameless old man--then discussed on the basis of proverbial morality by socrates and polemarchus--then caricatured by thrasymachus and partially explained by socrates--reduced to an abstraction by glaucon and adeimantus, and having become invisible in the individual reappears at length in the ideal state which is constructed by socrates. the first care of the rulers is to be education, of which an outline is drawn after the old hellenic model, providing only for an improved religion and morality, and more simplicity in music and gymnastic, a manlier strain of poetry, and greater harmony of the individual and the state. we are thus led on to the conception of a higher state, in which 'no man calls anything his own,' and in which there is neither 'marrying nor giving in marriage,' and 'kings are philosophers' and 'philosophers are kings;' and there is another and higher education, intellectual as well as moral and religious, of science as well as of art, and not of youth only but of the whole of life. such a state is hardly to be realized in this world and quickly degenerates. to the perfect ideal succeeds the government of the soldier and the lover of honour, this again declining into democracy, and democracy into tyranny, in an imaginary but regular order having not much resemblance to the actual facts. when 'the wheel has come full circle' we do not begin again with a new period of human life; but we have passed from the best to the worst, and there we end. the subject is then changed and the old quarrel of poetry and philosophy which had been more lightly treated in the earlier books of the republic is now resumed and fought out to a conclusion. poetry is discovered to be an imitation thrice removed from the truth, and homer, as well as the dramatic poets, having been condemned as an imitator, is sent into banishment along with them. and the idea of the state is supplemented by the revelation of a future life. the division into books, like all similar divisions (cp. sir g.c. lewis in the classical museum, vol. ii. p .), is probably later than the age of plato. the natural divisions are five in number;--( ) book i and the first half of book ii down to the paragraph beginning, 'i had always admired the genius of glaucon and adeimantus,' which is introductory; the first book containing a refutation of the popular and sophistical notions of justice, and concluding, like some of the earlier dialogues, without arriving at any definite result. to this is appended a restatement of the nature of justice according to common opinion, and an answer is demanded to the question--what is justice, stripped of appearances? the second division ( ) includes the remainder of the second and the whole of the third and fourth books, which are mainly occupied with the construction of the first state and the first education. the third division ( ) consists of the fifth, sixth, and seventh books, in which philosophy rather than justice is the subject of enquiry, and the second state is constructed on principles of communism and ruled by philosophers, and the contemplation of the idea of good takes the place of the social and political virtues. in the eighth and ninth books ( ) the perversions of states and of the individuals who correspond to them are reviewed in succession; and the nature of pleasure and the principle of tyranny are further analysed in the individual man. the tenth book ( ) is the conclusion of the whole, in which the relations of philosophy to poetry are finally determined, and the happiness of the citizens in this life, which has now been assured, is crowned by the vision of another. or a more general division into two parts may be adopted; the first (books i - iv) containing the description of a state framed generally in accordance with hellenic notions of religion and morality, while in the second (books v - x) the hellenic state is transformed into an ideal kingdom of philosophy, of which all other governments are the perversions. these two points of view are really opposed, and the opposition is only veiled by the genius of plato. the republic, like the phaedrus (see introduction to phaedrus), is an imperfect whole; the higher light of philosophy breaks through the regularity of the hellenic temple, which at last fades away into the heavens. whether this imperfection of structure arises from an enlargement of the plan; or from the imperfect reconcilement in the writer's own mind of the struggling elements of thought which are now first brought together by him; or, perhaps, from the composition of the work at different times--are questions, like the similar question about the iliad and the odyssey, which are worth asking, but which cannot have a distinct answer. in the age of plato there was no regular mode of publication, and an author would have the less scruple in altering or adding to a work which was known only to a few of his friends. there is no absurdity in supposing that he may have laid his labours aside for a time, or turned from one work to another; and such interruptions would be more likely to occur in the case of a long than of a short writing. in all attempts to determine the chronological order of the platonic writings on internal evidence, this uncertainty about any single dialogue being composed at one time is a disturbing element, which must be admitted to affect longer works, such as the republic and the laws, more than shorter ones. but, on the other hand, the seeming discrepancies of the republic may only arise out of the discordant elements which the philosopher has attempted to unite in a single whole, perhaps without being himself able to recognise the inconsistency which is obvious to us. for there is a judgment of after ages which few great writers have ever been able to anticipate for themselves. they do not perceive the want of connexion in their own writings, or the gaps in their systems which are visible enough to those who come after them. in the beginnings of literature and philosophy, amid the first efforts of thought and language, more inconsistencies occur than now, when the paths of speculation are well worn and the meaning of words precisely defined. for consistency, too, is the growth of time; and some of the greatest creations of the human mind have been wanting in unity. tried by this test, several of the platonic dialogues, according to our modern ideas, appear to be defective, but the deficiency is no proof that they were composed at different times or by different hands. and the supposition that the republic was written uninterruptedly and by a continuous effort is in some degree confirmed by the numerous references from one part of the work to another. the second title, 'concerning justice,' is not the one by which the republic is quoted, either by aristotle or generally in antiquity, and, like the other second titles of the platonic dialogues, may therefore be assumed to be of later date. morgenstern and others have asked whether the definition of justice, which is the professed aim, or the construction of the state is the principal argument of the work. the answer is, that the two blend in one, and are two faces of the same truth; for justice is the order of the state, and the state is the visible embodiment of justice under the conditions of human society. the one is the soul and the other is the body, and the greek ideal of the state, as of the individual, is a fair mind in a fair body. in hegelian phraseology the state is the reality of which justice is the idea. or, described in christian language, the kingdom of god is within, and yet developes into a church or external kingdom; 'the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens,' is reduced to the proportions of an earthly building. or, to use a platonic image, justice and the state are the warp and the woof which run through the whole texture. and when the constitution of the state is completed, the conception of justice is not dismissed, but reappears under the same or different names throughout the work, both as the inner law of the individual soul, and finally as the principle of rewards and punishments in another life. the virtues are based on justice, of which common honesty in buying and selling is the shadow, and justice is based on the idea of good, which is the harmony of the world, and is reflected both in the institutions of states and in motions of the heavenly bodies (cp. tim. ). the timaeus, which takes up the political rather than the ethical side of the republic, and is chiefly occupied with hypotheses concerning the outward world, yet contains many indications that the same law is supposed to reign over the state, over nature, and over man. too much, however, has been made of this question both in ancient and modern times. there is a stage of criticism in which all works, whether of nature or of art, are referred to design. now in ancient writings, and indeed in literature generally, there remains often a large element which was not comprehended in the original design. for the plan grows under the author's hand; new thoughts occur to him in the act of writing; he has not worked out the argument to the end before he begins. the reader who seeks to find some one idea under which the whole may be conceived, must necessarily seize on the vaguest and most general. thus stallbaum, who is dissatisfied with the ordinary explanations of the argument of the republic, imagines himself to have found the true argument 'in the representation of human life in a state perfected by justice, and governed according to the idea of good.' there may be some use in such general descriptions, but they can hardly be said to express the design of the writer. the truth is, that we may as well speak of many designs as of one; nor need anything be excluded from the plan of a great work to which the mind is naturally led by the association of ideas, and which does not interfere with the general purpose. what kind or degree of unity is to be sought after in a building, in the plastic arts, in poetry, in prose, is a problem which has to be determined relatively to the subject-matter. to plato himself, the enquiry 'what was the intention of the writer,' or 'what was the principal argument of the republic' would have been hardly intelligible, and therefore had better be at once dismissed (cp. the introduction to the phaedrus). is not the republic the vehicle of three or four great truths which, to plato's own mind, are most naturally represented in the form of the state? just as in the jewish prophets the reign of messiah, or 'the day of the lord,' or the suffering servant or people of god, or the 'sun of righteousness with healing in his wings' only convey, to us at least, their great spiritual ideals, so through the greek state plato reveals to us his own thoughts about divine perfection, which is the idea of good--like the sun in the visible world;--about human perfection, which is justice--about education beginning in youth and continuing in later years--about poets and sophists and tyrants who are the false teachers and evil rulers of mankind--about 'the world' which is the embodiment of them--about a kingdom which exists nowhere upon earth but is laid up in heaven to be the pattern and rule of human life. no such inspired creation is at unity with itself, any more than the clouds of heaven when the sun pierces through them. every shade of light and dark, of truth, and of fiction which is the veil of truth, is allowable in a work of philosophical imagination. it is not all on the same plane; it easily passes from ideas to myths and fancies, from facts to figures of speech. it is not prose but poetry, at least a great part of it, and ought not to be judged by the rules of logic or the probabilities of history. the writer is not fashioning his ideas into an artistic whole; they take possession of him and are too much for him. we have no need therefore to discuss whether a state such as plato has conceived is practicable or not, or whether the outward form or the inward life came first into the mind of the writer. for the practicability of his ideas has nothing to do with their truth; and the highest thoughts to which he attains may be truly said to bear the greatest 'marks of design'--justice more than the external frame-work of the state, the idea of good more than justice. the great science of dialectic or the organisation of ideas has no real content; but is only a type of the method or spirit in which the higher knowledge is to be pursued by the spectator of all time and all existence. it is in the fifth, sixth, and seventh books that plato reaches the 'summit of speculation,' and these, although they fail to satisfy the requirements of a modern thinker, may therefore be regarded as the most important, as they are also the most original, portions of the work. it is not necessary to discuss at length a minor question which has been raised by boeckh, respecting the imaginary date at which the conversation was held (the year b.c. which is proposed by him will do as well as any other); for a writer of fiction, and especially a writer who, like plato, is notoriously careless of chronology (cp. rep., symp., a, etc.), only aims at general probability. whether all the persons mentioned in the republic could ever have met at any one time is not a difficulty which would have occurred to an athenian reading the work forty years later, or to plato himself at the time of writing (any more than to shakespeare respecting one of his own dramas); and need not greatly trouble us now. yet this may be a question having no answer 'which is still worth asking,' because the investigation shows that we cannot argue historically from the dates in plato; it would be useless therefore to waste time in inventing far-fetched reconcilements of them in order to avoid chronological difficulties, such, for example, as the conjecture of c.f. hermann, that glaucon and adeimantus are not the brothers but the uncles of plato (cp. apol. a), or the fancy of stallbaum that plato intentionally left anachronisms indicating the dates at which some of his dialogues were written. the principal characters in the republic are cephalus, polemarchus, thrasymachus, socrates, glaucon, and adeimantus. cephalus appears in the introduction only, polemarchus drops at the end of the first argument, and thrasymachus is reduced to silence at the close of the first book. the main discussion is carried on by socrates, glaucon, and adeimantus. among the company are lysias (the orator) and euthydemus, the sons of cephalus and brothers of polemarchus, an unknown charmantides--these are mute auditors; also there is cleitophon, who once interrupts, where, as in the dialogue which bears his name, he appears as the friend and ally of thrasymachus. cephalus, the patriarch of the house, has been appropriately engaged in offering a sacrifice. he is the pattern of an old man who has almost done with life, and is at peace with himself and with all mankind. he feels that he is drawing nearer to the world below, and seems to linger around the memory of the past. he is eager that socrates should come to visit him, fond of the poetry of the last generation, happy in the consciousness of a well-spent life, glad at having escaped from the tyranny of youthful lusts. his love of conversation, his affection, his indifference to riches, even his garrulity, are interesting traits of character. he is not one of those who have nothing to say, because their whole mind has been absorbed in making money. yet he acknowledges that riches have the advantage of placing men above the temptation to dishonesty or falsehood. the respectful attention shown to him by socrates, whose love of conversation, no less than the mission imposed upon him by the oracle, leads him to ask questions of all men, young and old alike, should also be noted. who better suited to raise the question of justice than cephalus, whose life might seem to be the expression of it? the moderation with which old age is pictured by cephalus as a very tolerable portion of existence is characteristic, not only of him, but of greek feeling generally, and contrasts with the exaggeration of cicero in the de senectute. the evening of life is described by plato in the most expressive manner, yet with the fewest possible touches. as cicero remarks (ep. ad attic. iv. ), the aged cephalus would have been out of place in the discussion which follows, and which he could neither have understood nor taken part in without a violation of dramatic propriety (cp. lysimachus in the laches). his 'son and heir' polemarchus has the frankness and impetuousness of youth; he is for detaining socrates by force in the opening scene, and will not 'let him off' on the subject of women and children. like cephalus, he is limited in his point of view, and represents the proverbial stage of morality which has rules of life rather than principles; and he quotes simonides (cp. aristoph. clouds) as his father had quoted pindar. but after this he has no more to say; the answers which he makes are only elicited from him by the dialectic of socrates. he has not yet experienced the influence of the sophists like glaucon and adeimantus, nor is he sensible of the necessity of refuting them; he belongs to the pre-socratic or pre-dialectical age. he is incapable of arguing, and is bewildered by socrates to such a degree that he does not know what he is saying. he is made to admit that justice is a thief, and that the virtues follow the analogy of the arts. from his brother lysias (contra eratosth.) we learn that he fell a victim to the thirty tyrants, but no allusion is here made to his fate, nor to the circumstance that cephalus and his family were of syracusan origin, and had migrated from thurii to athens. the 'chalcedonian giant,' thrasymachus, of whom we have already heard in the phaedrus, is the personification of the sophists, according to plato's conception of them, in some of their worst characteristics. he is vain and blustering, refusing to discourse unless he is paid, fond of making an oration, and hoping thereby to escape the inevitable socrates; but a mere child in argument, and unable to foresee that the next 'move' (to use a platonic expression) will 'shut him up.' he has reached the stage of framing general notions, and in this respect is in advance of cephalus and polemarchus. but he is incapable of defending them in a discussion, and vainly tries to cover his confusion with banter and insolence. whether such doctrines as are attributed to him by plato were really held either by him or by any other sophist is uncertain; in the infancy of philosophy serious errors about morality might easily grow up--they are certainly put into the mouths of speakers in thucydides; but we are concerned at present with plato's description of him, and not with the historical reality. the inequality of the contest adds greatly to the humour of the scene. the pompous and empty sophist is utterly helpless in the hands of the great master of dialectic, who knows how to touch all the springs of vanity and weakness in him. he is greatly irritated by the irony of socrates, but his noisy and imbecile rage only lays him more and more open to the thrusts of his assailant. his determination to cram down their throats, or put 'bodily into their souls' his own words, elicits a cry of horror from socrates. the state of his temper is quite as worthy of remark as the process of the argument. nothing is more amusing than his complete submission when he has been once thoroughly beaten. at first he seems to continue the discussion with reluctance, but soon with apparent good-will, and he even testifies his interest at a later stage by one or two occasional remarks. when attacked by glaucon he is humorously protected by socrates 'as one who has never been his enemy and is now his friend.' from cicero and quintilian and from aristotle's rhetoric we learn that the sophist whom plato has made so ridiculous was a man of note whose writings were preserved in later ages. the play on his name which was made by his contemporary herodicus (aris. rhet.), 'thou wast ever bold in battle,' seems to show that the description of him is not devoid of verisimilitude. when thrasymachus has been silenced, the two principal respondents, glaucon and adeimantus, appear on the scene: here, as in greek tragedy (cp. introd. to phaedo), three actors are introduced. at first sight the two sons of ariston may seem to wear a family likeness, like the two friends simmias and cebes in the phaedo. but on a nearer examination of them the similarity vanishes, and they are seen to be distinct characters. glaucon is the impetuous youth who can 'just never have enough of fechting' (cp. the character of him in xen. mem. iii. ); the man of pleasure who is acquainted with the mysteries of love; the 'juvenis qui gaudet canibus,' and who improves the breed of animals; the lover of art and music who has all the experiences of youthful life. he is full of quickness and penetration, piercing easily below the clumsy platitudes of thrasymachus to the real difficulty; he turns out to the light the seamy side of human life, and yet does not lose faith in the just and true. it is glaucon who seizes what may be termed the ludicrous relation of the philosopher to the world, to whom a state of simplicity is 'a city of pigs,' who is always prepared with a jest when the argument offers him an opportunity, and who is ever ready to second the humour of socrates and to appreciate the ridiculous, whether in the connoisseurs of music, or in the lovers of theatricals, or in the fantastic behaviour of the citizens of democracy. his weaknesses are several times alluded to by socrates, who, however, will not allow him to be attacked by his brother adeimantus. he is a soldier, and, like adeimantus, has been distinguished at the battle of megara (anno ?)...the character of adeimantus is deeper and graver, and the profounder objections are commonly put into his mouth. glaucon is more demonstrative, and generally opens the game. adeimantus pursues the argument further. glaucon has more of the liveliness and quick sympathy of youth; adeimantus has the maturer judgment of a grown-up man of the world. in the second book, when glaucon insists that justice and injustice shall be considered without regard to their consequences, adeimantus remarks that they are regarded by mankind in general only for the sake of their consequences; and in a similar vein of reflection he urges at the beginning of the fourth book that socrates fails in making his citizens happy, and is answered that happiness is not the first but the second thing, not the direct aim but the indirect consequence of the good government of a state. in the discussion about religion and mythology, adeimantus is the respondent, but glaucon breaks in with a slight jest, and carries on the conversation in a lighter tone about music and gymnastic to the end of the book. it is adeimantus again who volunteers the criticism of common sense on the socratic method of argument, and who refuses to let socrates pass lightly over the question of women and children. it is adeimantus who is the respondent in the more argumentative, as glaucon in the lighter and more imaginative portions of the dialogue. for example, throughout the greater part of the sixth book, the causes of the corruption of philosophy and the conception of the idea of good are discussed with adeimantus. glaucon resumes his place of principal respondent; but he has a difficulty in apprehending the higher education of socrates, and makes some false hits in the course of the discussion. once more adeimantus returns with the allusion to his brother glaucon whom he compares to the contentious state; in the next book he is again superseded, and glaucon continues to the end. thus in a succession of characters plato represents the successive stages of morality, beginning with the athenian gentleman of the olden time, who is followed by the practical man of that day regulating his life by proverbs and saws; to him succeeds the wild generalization of the sophists, and lastly come the young disciples of the great teacher, who know the sophistical arguments but will not be convinced by them, and desire to go deeper into the nature of things. these too, like cephalus, polemarchus, thrasymachus, are clearly distinguished from one another. neither in the republic, nor in any other dialogue of plato, is a single character repeated. the delineation of socrates in the republic is not wholly consistent. in the first book we have more of the real socrates, such as he is depicted in the memorabilia of xenophon, in the earliest dialogues of plato, and in the apology. he is ironical, provoking, questioning, the old enemy of the sophists, ready to put on the mask of silenus as well as to argue seriously. but in the sixth book his enmity towards the sophists abates; he acknowledges that they are the representatives rather than the corrupters of the world. he also becomes more dogmatic and constructive, passing beyond the range either of the political or the speculative ideas of the real socrates. in one passage plato himself seems to intimate that the time had now come for socrates, who had passed his whole life in philosophy, to give his own opinion and not to be always repeating the notions of other men. there is no evidence that either the idea of good or the conception of a perfect state were comprehended in the socratic teaching, though he certainly dwelt on the nature of the universal and of final causes (cp. xen. mem.; phaedo); and a deep thinker like him, in his thirty or forty years of public teaching, could hardly have failed to touch on the nature of family relations, for which there is also some positive evidence in the memorabilia (mem.) the socratic method is nominally retained; and every inference is either put into the mouth of the respondent or represented as the common discovery of him and socrates. but any one can see that this is a mere form, of which the affectation grows wearisome as the work advances. the method of enquiry has passed into a method of teaching in which by the help of interlocutors the same thesis is looked at from various points of view. the nature of the process is truly characterized by glaucon, when he describes himself as a companion who is not good for much in an investigation, but can see what he is shown, and may, perhaps, give the answer to a question more fluently than another. neither can we be absolutely certain that socrates himself taught the immortality of the soul, which is unknown to his disciple glaucon in the republic (cp. apol.); nor is there any reason to suppose that he used myths or revelations of another world as a vehicle of instruction, or that he would have banished poetry or have denounced the greek mythology. his favorite oath is retained, and a slight mention is made of the daemonium, or internal sign, which is alluded to by socrates as a phenomenon peculiar to himself. a real element of socratic teaching, which is more prominent in the republic than in any of the other dialogues of plato, is the use of example and illustration (greek): 'let us apply the test of common instances.' 'you,' says adeimantus, ironically, in the sixth book, 'are so unaccustomed to speak in images.' and this use of examples or images, though truly socratic in origin, is enlarged by the genius of plato into the form of an allegory or parable, which embodies in the concrete what has been already described, or is about to be described, in the abstract. thus the figure of the cave in book vii is a recapitulation of the divisions of knowledge in book vi. the composite animal in book ix is an allegory of the parts of the soul. the noble captain and the ship and the true pilot in book vi are a figure of the relation of the people to the philosophers in the state which has been described. other figures, such as the dog, or the marriage of the portionless maiden, or the drones and wasps in the eighth and ninth books, also form links of connexion in long passages, or are used to recall previous discussions. plato is most true to the character of his master when he describes him as 'not of this world.' and with this representation of him the ideal state and the other paradoxes of the republic are quite in accordance, though they cannot be shown to have been speculations of socrates. to him, as to other great teachers both philosophical and religious, when they looked upward, the world seemed to be the embodiment of error and evil. the common sense of mankind has revolted against this view, or has only partially admitted it. and even in socrates himself the sterner judgement of the multitude at times passes into a sort of ironical pity or love. men in general are incapable of philosophy, and are therefore at enmity with the philosopher; but their misunderstanding of him is unavoidable: for they have never seen him as he truly is in his own image; they are only acquainted with artificial systems possessing no native force of truth--words which admit of many applications. their leaders have nothing to measure with, and are therefore ignorant of their own stature. but they are to be pitied or laughed at, not to be quarrelled with; they mean well with their nostrums, if they could only learn that they are cutting off a hydra's head. this moderation towards those who are in error is one of the most characteristic features of socrates in the republic. in all the different representations of socrates, whether of xenophon or plato, and amid the differences of the earlier or later dialogues, he always retains the character of the unwearied and disinterested seeker after truth, without which he would have ceased to be socrates. leaving the characters we may now analyse the contents of the republic, and then proceed to consider ( ) the general aspects of this hellenic ideal of the state, ( ) the modern lights in which the thoughts of plato may be read. book i. the republic opens with a truly greek scene--a festival in honour of the goddess bendis which is held in the piraeus; to this is added the promise of an equestrian torch-race in the evening. the whole work is supposed to be recited by socrates on the day after the festival to a small party, consisting of critias, timaeus, hermocrates, and another; this we learn from the first words of the timaeus. when the rhetorical advantage of reciting the dialogue has been gained, the attention is not distracted by any reference to the audience; nor is the reader further reminded of the extraordinary length of the narrative. of the numerous company, three only take any serious part in the discussion; nor are we informed whether in the evening they went to the torch-race, or talked, as in the symposium, through the night. the manner in which the conversation has arisen is described as follows:--socrates and his companion glaucon are about to leave the festival when they are detained by a message from polemarchus, who speedily appears accompanied by adeimantus, the brother of glaucon, and with playful violence compels them to remain, promising them not only the torch-race, but the pleasure of conversation with the young, which to socrates is a far greater attraction. they return to the house of cephalus, polemarchus' father, now in extreme old age, who is found sitting upon a cushioned seat crowned for a sacrifice. 'you should come to me oftener, socrates, for i am too old to go to you; and at my time of life, having lost other pleasures, i care the more for conversation.' socrates asks him what he thinks of age, to which the old man replies, that the sorrows and discontents of age are to be attributed to the tempers of men, and that age is a time of peace in which the tyranny of the passions is no longer felt. yes, replies socrates, but the world will say, cephalus, that you are happy in old age because you are rich. 'and there is something in what they say, socrates, but not so much as they imagine--as themistocles replied to the seriphian, "neither you, if you had been an athenian, nor i, if i had been a seriphian, would ever have been famous," i might in like manner reply to you, neither a good poor man can be happy in age, nor yet a bad rich man.' socrates remarks that cephalus appears not to care about riches, a quality which he ascribes to his having inherited, not acquired them, and would like to know what he considers to be the chief advantage of them. cephalus answers that when you are old the belief in the world below grows upon you, and then to have done justice and never to have been compelled to do injustice through poverty, and never to have deceived anyone, are felt to be unspeakable blessings. socrates, who is evidently preparing for an argument, next asks, what is the meaning of the word justice? to tell the truth and pay your debts? no more than this? or must we admit exceptions? ought i, for example, to put back into the hands of my friend, who has gone mad, the sword which i borrowed of him when he was in his right mind? 'there must be exceptions.' 'and yet,' says polemarchus, 'the definition which has been given has the authority of simonides.' here cephalus retires to look after the sacrifices, and bequeaths, as socrates facetiously remarks, the possession of the argument to his heir, polemarchus... the description of old age is finished, and plato, as his manner is, has touched the key-note of the whole work in asking for the definition of justice, first suggesting the question which glaucon afterwards pursues respecting external goods, and preparing for the concluding mythus of the world below in the slight allusion of cephalus. the portrait of the just man is a natural frontispiece or introduction to the long discourse which follows, and may perhaps imply that in all our perplexity about the nature of justice, there is no difficulty in discerning 'who is a just man.' the first explanation has been supported by a saying of simonides; and now socrates has a mind to show that the resolution of justice into two unconnected precepts, which have no common principle, fails to satisfy the demands of dialectic. ...he proceeds: what did simonides mean by this saying of his? did he mean that i was to give back arms to a madman? 'no, not in that case, not if the parties are friends, and evil would result. he meant that you were to do what was proper, good to friends and harm to enemies.' every act does something to somebody; and following this analogy, socrates asks, what is this due and proper thing which justice does, and to whom? he is answered that justice does good to friends and harm to enemies. but in what way good or harm? 'in making alliances with the one, and going to war with the other.' then in time of peace what is the good of justice? the answer is that justice is of use in contracts, and contracts are money partnerships. yes; but how in such partnerships is the just man of more use than any other man? 'when you want to have money safely kept and not used.' then justice will be useful when money is useless. and there is another difficulty: justice, like the art of war or any other art, must be of opposites, good at attack as well as at defence, at stealing as well as at guarding. but then justice is a thief, though a hero notwithstanding, like autolycus, the homeric hero, who was 'excellent above all men in theft and perjury'--to such a pass have you and homer and simonides brought us; though i do not forget that the thieving must be for the good of friends and the harm of enemies. and still there arises another question: are friends to be interpreted as real or seeming; enemies as real or seeming? and are our friends to be only the good, and our enemies to be the evil? the answer is, that we must do good to our seeming and real good friends, and evil to our seeming and real evil enemies--good to the good, evil to the evil. but ought we to render evil for evil at all, when to do so will only make men more evil? can justice produce injustice any more than the art of horsemanship can make bad horsemen, or heat produce cold? the final conclusion is, that no sage or poet ever said that the just return evil for evil; this was a maxim of some rich and mighty man, periander, perdiccas, or ismenias the theban (about b.c. - )... thus the first stage of aphoristic or unconscious morality is shown to be inadequate to the wants of the age; the authority of the poets is set aside, and through the winding mazes of dialectic we make an approach to the christian precept of forgiveness of injuries. similar words are applied by the persian mystic poet to the divine being when the questioning spirit is stirred within him:--'if because i do evil, thou punishest me by evil, what is the difference between thee and me?' in this both plato and kheyam rise above the level of many christian (?) theologians. the first definition of justice easily passes into the second; for the simple words 'to speak the truth and pay your debts' is substituted the more abstract 'to do good to your friends and harm to your enemies.' either of these explanations gives a sufficient rule of life for plain men, but they both fall short of the precision of philosophy. we may note in passing the antiquity of casuistry, which not only arises out of the conflict of established principles in particular cases, but also out of the effort to attain them, and is prior as well as posterior to our fundamental notions of morality. the 'interrogation' of moral ideas; the appeal to the authority of homer; the conclusion that the maxim, 'do good to your friends and harm to your enemies,' being erroneous, could not have been the word of any great man, are all of them very characteristic of the platonic socrates. ...here thrasymachus, who has made several attempts to interrupt, but has hitherto been kept in order by the company, takes advantage of a pause and rushes into the arena, beginning, like a savage animal, with a roar. 'socrates,' he says, 'what folly is this?--why do you agree to be vanquished by one another in a pretended argument?' he then prohibits all the ordinary definitions of justice; to which socrates replies that he cannot tell how many twelve is, if he is forbidden to say x , or x , or x , or x . at first thrasymachus is reluctant to argue; but at length, with a promise of payment on the part of the company and of praise from socrates, he is induced to open the game. 'listen,' he says, 'my answer is that might is right, justice the interest of the stronger: now praise me.' let me understand you first. do you mean that because polydamas the wrestler, who is stronger than we are, finds the eating of beef for his interest, the eating of beef is also for our interest, who are not so strong? thrasymachus is indignant at the illustration, and in pompous words, apparently intended to restore dignity to the argument, he explains his meaning to be that the rulers make laws for their own interests. but suppose, says socrates, that the ruler or stronger makes a mistake--then the interest of the stronger is not his interest. thrasymachus is saved from this speedy downfall by his disciple cleitophon, who introduces the word 'thinks;'--not the actual interest of the ruler, but what he thinks or what seems to be his interest, is justice. the contradiction is escaped by the unmeaning evasion: for though his real and apparent interests may differ, what the ruler thinks to be his interest will always remain what he thinks to be his interest. of course this was not the original assertion, nor is the new interpretation accepted by thrasymachus himself. but socrates is not disposed to quarrel about words, if, as he significantly insinuates, his adversary has changed his mind. in what follows thrasymachus does in fact withdraw his admission that the ruler may make a mistake, for he affirms that the ruler as a ruler is infallible. socrates is quite ready to accept the new position, which he equally turns against thrasymachus by the help of the analogy of the arts. every art or science has an interest, but this interest is to be distinguished from the accidental interest of the artist, and is only concerned with the good of the things or persons which come under the art. and justice has an interest which is the interest not of the ruler or judge, but of those who come under his sway. thrasymachus is on the brink of the inevitable conclusion, when he makes a bold diversion. 'tell me, socrates,' he says, 'have you a nurse?' what a question! why do you ask? 'because, if you have, she neglects you and lets you go about drivelling, and has not even taught you to know the shepherd from the sheep. for you fancy that shepherds and rulers never think of their own interest, but only of their sheep or subjects, whereas the truth is that they fatten them for their use, sheep and subjects alike. and experience proves that in every relation of life the just man is the loser and the unjust the gainer, especially where injustice is on the grand scale, which is quite another thing from the petty rogueries of swindlers and burglars and robbers of temples. the language of men proves this--our 'gracious' and 'blessed' tyrant and the like--all which tends to show ( ) that justice is the interest of the stronger; and ( ) that injustice is more profitable and also stronger than justice.' thrasymachus, who is better at a speech than at a close argument, having deluged the company with words, has a mind to escape. but the others will not let him go, and socrates adds a humble but earnest request that he will not desert them at such a crisis of their fate. 'and what can i do more for you?' he says; 'would you have me put the words bodily into your souls?' god forbid! replies socrates; but we want you to be consistent in the use of terms, and not to employ 'physician' in an exact sense, and then again 'shepherd' or 'ruler' in an inexact,--if the words are strictly taken, the ruler and the shepherd look only to the good of their people or flocks and not to their own: whereas you insist that rulers are solely actuated by love of office. 'no doubt about it,' replies thrasymachus. then why are they paid? is not the reason, that their interest is not comprehended in their art, and is therefore the concern of another art, the art of pay, which is common to the arts in general, and therefore not identical with any one of them? nor would any man be a ruler unless he were induced by the hope of reward or the fear of punishment;--the reward is money or honour, the punishment is the necessity of being ruled by a man worse than himself. and if a state (or church) were composed entirely of good men, they would be affected by the last motive only; and there would be as much 'nolo episcopari' as there is at present of the opposite... the satire on existing governments is heightened by the simple and apparently incidental manner in which the last remark is introduced. there is a similar irony in the argument that the governors of mankind do not like being in office, and that therefore they demand pay. ...enough of this: the other assertion of thrasymachus is far more important--that the unjust life is more gainful than the just. now, as you and i, glaucon, are not convinced by him, we must reply to him; but if we try to compare their respective gains we shall want a judge to decide for us; we had better therefore proceed by making mutual admissions of the truth to one another. thrasymachus had asserted that perfect injustice was more gainful than perfect justice, and after a little hesitation he is induced by socrates to admit the still greater paradox that injustice is virtue and justice vice. socrates praises his frankness, and assumes the attitude of one whose only wish is to understand the meaning of his opponents. at the same time he is weaving a net in which thrasymachus is finally enclosed. the admission is elicited from him that the just man seeks to gain an advantage over the unjust only, but not over the just, while the unjust would gain an advantage over either. socrates, in order to test this statement, employs once more the favourite analogy of the arts. the musician, doctor, skilled artist of any sort, does not seek to gain more than the skilled, but only more than the unskilled (that is to say, he works up to a rule, standard, law, and does not exceed it), whereas the unskilled makes random efforts at excess. thus the skilled falls on the side of the good, and the unskilled on the side of the evil, and the just is the skilled, and the unjust is the unskilled. there was great difficulty in bringing thrasymachus to the point; the day was hot and he was streaming with perspiration, and for the first time in his life he was seen to blush. but his other thesis that injustice was stronger than justice has not yet been refuted, and socrates now proceeds to the consideration of this, which, with the assistance of thrasymachus, he hopes to clear up; the latter is at first churlish, but in the judicious hands of socrates is soon restored to good-humour: is there not honour among thieves? is not the strength of injustice only a remnant of justice? is not absolute injustice absolute weakness also? a house that is divided against itself cannot stand; two men who quarrel detract from one another's strength, and he who is at war with himself is the enemy of himself and the gods. not wickedness therefore, but semi-wickedness flourishes in states,--a remnant of good is needed in order to make union in action possible,--there is no kingdom of evil in this world. another question has not been answered: is the just or the unjust the happier? to this we reply, that every art has an end and an excellence or virtue by which the end is accomplished. and is not the end of the soul happiness, and justice the excellence of the soul by which happiness is attained? justice and happiness being thus shown to be inseparable, the question whether the just or the unjust is the happier has disappeared. thrasymachus replies: 'let this be your entertainment, socrates, at the festival of bendis.' yes; and a very good entertainment with which your kindness has supplied me, now that you have left off scolding. and yet not a good entertainment--but that was my own fault, for i tasted of too many things. first of all the nature of justice was the subject of our enquiry, and then whether justice is virtue and wisdom, or evil and folly; and then the comparative advantages of just and unjust: and the sum of all is that i know not what justice is; how then shall i know whether the just is happy or not?... thus the sophistical fabric has been demolished, chiefly by appealing to the analogy of the arts. 'justice is like the arts ( ) in having no external interest, and ( ) in not aiming at excess, and ( ) justice is to happiness what the implement of the workman is to his work.' at this the modern reader is apt to stumble, because he forgets that plato is writing in an age when the arts and the virtues, like the moral and intellectual faculties, were still undistinguished. among early enquirers into the nature of human action the arts helped to fill up the void of speculation; and at first the comparison of the arts and the virtues was not perceived by them to be fallacious. they only saw the points of agreement in them and not the points of difference. virtue, like art, must take means to an end; good manners are both an art and a virtue; character is naturally described under the image of a statue; and there are many other figures of speech which are readily transferred from art to morals. the next generation cleared up these perplexities; or at least supplied after ages with a further analysis of them. the contemporaries of plato were in a state of transition, and had not yet fully realized the common-sense distinction of aristotle, that 'virtue is concerned with action, art with production' (nic. eth.), or that 'virtue implies intention and constancy of purpose,' whereas 'art requires knowledge only'. and yet in the absurdities which follow from some uses of the analogy, there seems to be an intimation conveyed that virtue is more than art. this is implied in the reductio ad absurdum that 'justice is a thief,' and in the dissatisfaction which socrates expresses at the final result. the expression 'an art of pay' which is described as 'common to all the arts' is not in accordance with the ordinary use of language. nor is it employed elsewhere either by plato or by any other greek writer. it is suggested by the argument, and seems to extend the conception of art to doing as well as making. another flaw or inaccuracy of language may be noted in the words 'men who are injured are made more unjust.' for those who are injured are not necessarily made worse, but only harmed or ill-treated. the second of the three arguments, 'that the just does not aim at excess,' has a real meaning, though wrapped up in an enigmatical form. that the good is of the nature of the finite is a peculiarly hellenic sentiment, which may be compared with the language of those modern writers who speak of virtue as fitness, and of freedom as obedience to law. the mathematical or logical notion of limit easily passes into an ethical one, and even finds a mythological expression in the conception of envy (greek). ideas of measure, equality, order, unity, proportion, still linger in the writings of moralists; and the true spirit of the fine arts is better conveyed by such terms than by superlatives. 'when workmen strive to do better than well, they do confound their skill in covetousness.' (king john.) the harmony of the soul and body, and of the parts of the soul with one another, a harmony 'fairer than that of musical notes,' is the true hellenic mode of conceiving the perfection of human nature. in what may be called the epilogue of the discussion with thrasymachus, plato argues that evil is not a principle of strength, but of discord and dissolution, just touching the question which has been often treated in modern times by theologians and philosophers, of the negative nature of evil. in the last argument we trace the germ of the aristotelian doctrine of an end and a virtue directed towards the end, which again is suggested by the arts. the final reconcilement of justice and happiness and the identity of the individual and the state are also intimated. socrates reassumes the character of a 'know-nothing;' at the same time he appears to be not wholly satisfied with the manner in which the argument has been conducted. nothing is concluded; but the tendency of the dialectical process, here as always, is to enlarge our conception of ideas, and to widen their application to human life. book ii. thrasymachus is pacified, but the intrepid glaucon insists on continuing the argument. he is not satisfied with the indirect manner in which, at the end of the last book, socrates had disposed of the question 'whether the just or the unjust is the happier.' he begins by dividing goods into three classes:--first, goods desirable in themselves; secondly, goods desirable in themselves and for their results; thirdly, goods desirable for their results only. he then asks socrates in which of the three classes he would place justice. in the second class, replies socrates, among goods desirable for themselves and also for their results. 'then the world in general are of another mind, for they say that justice belongs to the troublesome class of goods which are desirable for their results only. socrates answers that this is the doctrine of thrasymachus which he rejects. glaucon thinks that thrasymachus was too ready to listen to the voice of the charmer, and proposes to consider the nature of justice and injustice in themselves and apart from the results and rewards of them which the world is always dinning in his ears. he will first of all speak of the nature and origin of justice; secondly, of the manner in which men view justice as a necessity and not a good; and thirdly, he will prove the reasonableness of this view. 'to do injustice is said to be a good; to suffer injustice an evil. as the evil is discovered by experience to be greater than the good, the sufferers, who cannot also be doers, make a compact that they will have neither, and this compact or mean is called justice, but is really the impossibility of doing injustice. no one would observe such a compact if he were not obliged. let us suppose that the just and unjust have two rings, like that of gyges in the well-known story, which make them invisible, and then no difference will appear in them, for every one will do evil if he can. and he who abstains will be regarded by the world as a fool for his pains. men may praise him in public out of fear for themselves, but they will laugh at him in their hearts (cp. gorgias.) 'and now let us frame an ideal of the just and unjust. imagine the unjust man to be master of his craft, seldom making mistakes and easily correcting them; having gifts of money, speech, strength--the greatest villain bearing the highest character: and at his side let us place the just in his nobleness and simplicity--being, not seeming--without name or reward--clothed in his justice only--the best of men who is thought to be the worst, and let him die as he has lived. i might add (but i would rather put the rest into the mouth of the panegyrists of injustice--they will tell you) that the just man will be scourged, racked, bound, will have his eyes put out, and will at last be crucified (literally impaled)--and all this because he ought to have preferred seeming to being. how different is the case of the unjust who clings to appearance as the true reality! his high character makes him a ruler; he can marry where he likes, trade where he likes, help his friends and hurt his enemies; having got rich by dishonesty he can worship the gods better, and will therefore be more loved by them than the just.' i was thinking what to answer, when adeimantus joined in the already unequal fray. he considered that the most important point of all had been omitted:--'men are taught to be just for the sake of rewards; parents and guardians make reputation the incentive to virtue. and other advantages are promised by them of a more solid kind, such as wealthy marriages and high offices. there are the pictures in homer and hesiod of fat sheep and heavy fleeces, rich corn-fields and trees toppling with fruit, which the gods provide in this life for the just. and the orphic poets add a similar picture of another. the heroes of musaeus and eumolpus lie on couches at a festival, with garlands on their heads, enjoying as the meed of virtue a paradise of immortal drunkenness. some go further, and speak of a fair posterity in the third and fourth generation. but the wicked they bury in a slough and make them carry water in a sieve: and in this life they attribute to them the infamy which glaucon was assuming to be the lot of the just who are supposed to be unjust. 'take another kind of argument which is found both in poetry and prose:--"virtue," as hesiod says, "is honourable but difficult, vice is easy and profitable." you may often see the wicked in great prosperity and the righteous afflicted by the will of heaven. and mendicant prophets knock at rich men's doors, promising to atone for the sins of themselves or their fathers in an easy fashion with sacrifices and festive games, or with charms and invocations to get rid of an enemy good or bad by divine help and at a small charge;--they appeal to books professing to be written by musaeus and orpheus, and carry away the minds of whole cities, and promise to "get souls out of purgatory;" and if we refuse to listen to them, no one knows what will happen to us. 'when a lively-minded ingenuous youth hears all this, what will be his conclusion? "will he," in the language of pindar, "make justice his high tower, or fortify himself with crooked deceit?" justice, he reflects, without the appearance of justice, is misery and ruin; injustice has the promise of a glorious life. appearance is master of truth and lord of happiness. to appearance then i will turn,--i will put on the show of virtue and trail behind me the fox of archilochus. i hear some one saying that "wickedness is not easily concealed," to which i reply that "nothing great is easy." union and force and rhetoric will do much; and if men say that they cannot prevail over the gods, still how do we know that there are gods? only from the poets, who acknowledge that they may be appeased by sacrifices. then why not sin and pay for indulgences out of your sin? for if the righteous are only unpunished, still they have no further reward, while the wicked may be unpunished and have the pleasure of sinning too. but what of the world below? nay, says the argument, there are atoning powers who will set that matter right, as the poets, who are the sons of the gods, tell us; and this is confirmed by the authority of the state. 'how can we resist such arguments in favour of injustice? add good manners, and, as the wise tell us, we shall make the best of both worlds. who that is not a miserable caitiff will refrain from smiling at the praises of justice? even if a man knows the better part he will not be angry with others; for he knows also that more than human virtue is needed to save a man, and that he only praises justice who is incapable of injustice. 'the origin of the evil is that all men from the beginning, heroes, poets, instructors of youth, have always asserted "the temporal dispensation," the honours and profits of justice. had we been taught in early youth the power of justice and injustice inherent in the soul, and unseen by any human or divine eye, we should not have needed others to be our guardians, but every one would have been the guardian of himself. this is what i want you to show, socrates;--other men use arguments which rather tend to strengthen the position of thrasymachus that "might is right;" but from you i expect better things. and please, as glaucon said, to exclude reputation; let the just be thought unjust and the unjust just, and do you still prove to us the superiority of justice'... the thesis, which for the sake of argument has been maintained by glaucon, is the converse of that of thrasymachus--not right is the interest of the stronger, but right is the necessity of the weaker. starting from the same premises he carries the analysis of society a step further back;--might is still right, but the might is the weakness of the many combined against the strength of the few. there have been theories in modern as well as in ancient times which have a family likeness to the speculations of glaucon; e.g. that power is the foundation of right; or that a monarch has a divine right to govern well or ill; or that virtue is self-love or the love of power; or that war is the natural state of man; or that private vices are public benefits. all such theories have a kind of plausibility from their partial agreement with experience. for human nature oscillates between good and evil, and the motives of actions and the origin of institutions may be explained to a certain extent on either hypothesis according to the character or point of view of a particular thinker. the obligation of maintaining authority under all circumstances and sometimes by rather questionable means is felt strongly and has become a sort of instinct among civilized men. the divine right of kings, or more generally of governments, is one of the forms under which this natural feeling is expressed. nor again is there any evil which has not some accompaniment of good or pleasure; nor any good which is free from some alloy of evil; nor any noble or generous thought which may not be attended by a shadow or the ghost of a shadow of self-interest or of self-love. we know that all human actions are imperfect; but we do not therefore attribute them to the worse rather than to the better motive or principle. such a philosophy is both foolish and false, like that opinion of the clever rogue who assumes all other men to be like himself. and theories of this sort do not represent the real nature of the state, which is based on a vague sense of right gradually corrected and enlarged by custom and law (although capable also of perversion), any more than they describe the origin of society, which is to be sought in the family and in the social and religious feelings of man. nor do they represent the average character of individuals, which cannot be explained simply on a theory of evil, but has always a counteracting element of good. and as men become better such theories appear more and more untruthful to them, because they are more conscious of their own disinterestedness. a little experience may make a man a cynic; a great deal will bring him back to a truer and kindlier view of the mixed nature of himself and his fellow men. the two brothers ask socrates to prove to them that the just is happy when they have taken from him all that in which happiness is ordinarily supposed to consist. not that there is ( ) any absurdity in the attempt to frame a notion of justice apart from circumstances. for the ideal must always be a paradox when compared with the ordinary conditions of human life. neither the stoical ideal nor the christian ideal is true as a fact, but they may serve as a basis of education, and may exercise an ennobling influence. an ideal is none the worse because 'some one has made the discovery' that no such ideal was ever realized. and in a few exceptional individuals who are raised above the ordinary level of humanity, the ideal of happiness may be realized in death and misery. this may be the state which the reason deliberately approves, and which the utilitarian as well as every other moralist may be bound in certain cases to prefer. nor again, ( ) must we forget that plato, though he agrees generally with the view implied in the argument of the two brothers, is not expressing his own final conclusion, but rather seeking to dramatize one of the aspects of ethical truth. he is developing his idea gradually in a series of positions or situations. he is exhibiting socrates for the first time undergoing the socratic interrogation. lastly, ( ) the word 'happiness' involves some degree of confusion because associated in the language of modern philosophy with conscious pleasure or satisfaction, which was not equally present to his mind. glaucon has been drawing a picture of the misery of the just and the happiness of the unjust, to which the misery of the tyrant in book ix is the answer and parallel. and still the unjust must appear just; that is 'the homage which vice pays to virtue.' but now adeimantus, taking up the hint which had been already given by glaucon, proceeds to show that in the opinion of mankind justice is regarded only for the sake of rewards and reputation, and points out the advantage which is given to such arguments as those of thrasymachus and glaucon by the conventional morality of mankind. he seems to feel the difficulty of 'justifying the ways of god to man.' both the brothers touch upon the question, whether the morality of actions is determined by their consequences; and both of them go beyond the position of socrates, that justice belongs to the class of goods not desirable for themselves only, but desirable for themselves and for their results, to which he recalls them. in their attempt to view justice as an internal principle, and in their condemnation of the poets, they anticipate him. the common life of greece is not enough for them; they must penetrate deeper into the nature of things. it has been objected that justice is honesty in the sense of glaucon and adeimantus, but is taken by socrates to mean all virtue. may we not more truly say that the old-fashioned notion of justice is enlarged by socrates, and becomes equivalent to universal order or well-being, first in the state, and secondly in the individual? he has found a new answer to his old question (protag.), 'whether the virtues are one or many,' viz. that one is the ordering principle of the three others. in seeking to establish the purely internal nature of justice, he is met by the fact that man is a social being, and he tries to harmonise the two opposite theses as well as he can. there is no more inconsistency in this than was inevitable in his age and country; there is no use in turning upon him the cross lights of modern philosophy, which, from some other point of view, would appear equally inconsistent. plato does not give the final solution of philosophical questions for us; nor can he be judged of by our standard. the remainder of the republic is developed out of the question of the sons of ariston. three points are deserving of remark in what immediately follows:--first, that the answer of socrates is altogether indirect. he does not say that happiness consists in the contemplation of the idea of justice, and still less will he be tempted to affirm the stoical paradox that the just man can be happy on the rack. but first he dwells on the difficulty of the problem and insists on restoring man to his natural condition, before he will answer the question at all. he too will frame an ideal, but his ideal comprehends not only abstract justice, but the whole relations of man. under the fanciful illustration of the large letters he implies that he will only look for justice in society, and that from the state he will proceed to the individual. his answer in substance amounts to this,--that under favourable conditions, i.e. in the perfect state, justice and happiness will coincide, and that when justice has been once found, happiness may be left to take care of itself. that he falls into some degree of inconsistency, when in the tenth book he claims to have got rid of the rewards and honours of justice, may be admitted; for he has left those which exist in the perfect state. and the philosopher 'who retires under the shelter of a wall' can hardly have been esteemed happy by him, at least not in this world. still he maintains the true attitude of moral action. let a man do his duty first, without asking whether he will be happy or not, and happiness will be the inseparable accident which attends him. 'seek ye first the kingdom of god and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.' secondly, it may be remarked that plato preserves the genuine character of greek thought in beginning with the state and in going on to the individual. first ethics, then politics--this is the order of ideas to us; the reverse is the order of history. only after many struggles of thought does the individual assert his right as a moral being. in early ages he is not one, but one of many, the citizen of a state which is prior to him; and he has no notion of good or evil apart from the law of his country or the creed of his church. and to this type he is constantly tending to revert, whenever the influence of custom, or of party spirit, or the recollection of the past becomes too strong for him. thirdly, we may observe the confusion or identification of the individual and the state, of ethics and politics, which pervades early greek speculation, and even in modern times retains a certain degree of influence. the subtle difference between the collective and individual action of mankind seems to have escaped early thinkers, and we too are sometimes in danger of forgetting the conditions of united human action, whenever we either elevate politics into ethics, or lower ethics to the standard of politics. the good man and the good citizen only coincide in the perfect state; and this perfection cannot be attained by legislation acting upon them from without, but, if at all, by education fashioning them from within. ...socrates praises the sons of ariston, 'inspired offspring of the renowned hero,' as the elegiac poet terms them; but he does not understand how they can argue so eloquently on behalf of injustice while their character shows that they are uninfluenced by their own arguments. he knows not how to answer them, although he is afraid of deserting justice in the hour of need. he therefore makes a condition, that having weak eyes he shall be allowed to read the large letters first and then go on to the smaller, that is, he must look for justice in the state first, and will then proceed to the individual. accordingly he begins to construct the state. society arises out of the wants of man. his first want is food; his second a house; his third a coat. the sense of these needs and the possibility of satisfying them by exchange, draw individuals together on the same spot; and this is the beginning of a state, which we take the liberty to invent, although necessity is the real inventor. there must be first a husbandman, secondly a builder, thirdly a weaver, to which may be added a cobbler. four or five citizens at least are required to make a city. now men have different natures, and one man will do one thing better than many; and business waits for no man. hence there must be a division of labour into different employments; into wholesale and retail trade; into workers, and makers of workmen's tools; into shepherds and husbandmen. a city which includes all this will have far exceeded the limit of four or five, and yet not be very large. but then again imports will be required, and imports necessitate exports, and this implies variety of produce in order to attract the taste of purchasers; also merchants and ships. in the city too we must have a market and money and retail trades; otherwise buyers and sellers will never meet, and the valuable time of the producers will be wasted in vain efforts at exchange. if we add hired servants the state will be complete. and we may guess that somewhere in the intercourse of the citizens with one another justice and injustice will appear. here follows a rustic picture of their way of life. they spend their days in houses which they have built for themselves; they make their own clothes and produce their own corn and wine. their principal food is meal and flour, and they drink in moderation. they live on the best of terms with each other, and take care not to have too many children. 'but,' said glaucon, interposing, 'are they not to have a relish?' certainly; they will have salt and olives and cheese, vegetables and fruits, and chestnuts to roast at the fire. ''tis a city of pigs, socrates.' why, i replied, what do you want more? 'only the comforts of life,--sofas and tables, also sauces and sweets.' i see; you want not only a state, but a luxurious state; and possibly in the more complex frame we may sooner find justice and injustice. then the fine arts must go to work--every conceivable instrument and ornament of luxury will be wanted. there will be dancers, painters, sculptors, musicians, cooks, barbers, tire-women, nurses, artists; swineherds and neatherds too for the animals, and physicians to cure the disorders of which luxury is the source. to feed all these superfluous mouths we shall need a part of our neighbour's land, and they will want a part of ours. and this is the origin of war, which may be traced to the same causes as other political evils. our city will now require the slight addition of a camp, and the citizen will be converted into a soldier. but then again our old doctrine of the division of labour must not be forgotten. the art of war cannot be learned in a day, and there must be a natural aptitude for military duties. there will be some warlike natures who have this aptitude--dogs keen of scent, swift of foot to pursue, and strong of limb to fight. and as spirit is the foundation of courage, such natures, whether of men or animals, will be full of spirit. but these spirited natures are apt to bite and devour one another; the union of gentleness to friends and fierceness against enemies appears to be an impossibility, and the guardian of a state requires both qualities. who then can be a guardian? the image of the dog suggests an answer. for dogs are gentle to friends and fierce to strangers. your dog is a philosopher who judges by the rule of knowing or not knowing; and philosophy, whether in man or beast, is the parent of gentleness. the human watchdogs must be philosophers or lovers of learning which will make them gentle. and how are they to be learned without education? but what shall their education be? is any better than the old-fashioned sort which is comprehended under the name of music and gymnastic? music includes literature, and literature is of two kinds, true and false. 'what do you mean?' he said. i mean that children hear stories before they learn gymnastics, and that the stories are either untrue, or have at most one or two grains of truth in a bushel of falsehood. now early life is very impressible, and children ought not to learn what they will have to unlearn when they grow up; we must therefore have a censorship of nursery tales, banishing some and keeping others. some of them are very improper, as we may see in the great instances of homer and hesiod, who not only tell lies but bad lies; stories about uranus and saturn, which are immoral as well as false, and which should never be spoken of to young persons, or indeed at all; or, if at all, then in a mystery, after the sacrifice, not of an eleusinian pig, but of some unprocurable animal. shall our youth be encouraged to beat their fathers by the example of zeus, or our citizens be incited to quarrel by hearing or seeing representations of strife among the gods? shall they listen to the narrative of hephaestus binding his mother, and of zeus sending him flying for helping her when she was beaten? such tales may possibly have a mystical interpretation, but the young are incapable of understanding allegory. if any one asks what tales are to be allowed, we will answer that we are legislators and not book-makers; we only lay down the principles according to which books are to be written; to write them is the duty of others. and our first principle is, that god must be represented as he is; not as the author of all things, but of good only. we will not suffer the poets to say that he is the steward of good and evil, or that he has two casks full of destinies;--or that athene and zeus incited pandarus to break the treaty; or that god caused the sufferings of niobe, or of pelops, or the trojan war; or that he makes men sin when he wishes to destroy them. either these were not the actions of the gods, or god was just, and men were the better for being punished. but that the deed was evil, and god the author, is a wicked, suicidal fiction which we will allow no one, old or young, to utter. this is our first and great principle--god is the author of good only. and the second principle is like unto it:--with god is no variableness or change of form. reason teaches us this; for if we suppose a change in god, he must be changed either by another or by himself. by another?--but the best works of nature and art and the noblest qualities of mind are least liable to be changed by any external force. by himself?--but he cannot change for the better; he will hardly change for the worse. he remains for ever fairest and best in his own image. therefore we refuse to listen to the poets who tell us of here begging in the likeness of a priestess or of other deities who prowl about at night in strange disguises; all that blasphemous nonsense with which mothers fool the manhood out of their children must be suppressed. but some one will say that god, who is himself unchangeable, may take a form in relation to us. why should he? for gods as well as men hate the lie in the soul, or principle of falsehood; and as for any other form of lying which is used for a purpose and is regarded as innocent in certain exceptional cases--what need have the gods of this? for they are not ignorant of antiquity like the poets, nor are they afraid of their enemies, nor is any madman a friend of theirs. god then is true, he is absolutely true; he changes not, he deceives not, by day or night, by word or sign. this is our second great principle--god is true. away with the lying dream of agamemnon in homer, and the accusation of thetis against apollo in aeschylus... in order to give clearness to his conception of the state, plato proceeds to trace the first principles of mutual need and of division of labour in an imaginary community of four or five citizens. gradually this community increases; the division of labour extends to countries; imports necessitate exports; a medium of exchange is required, and retailers sit in the market-place to save the time of the producers. these are the steps by which plato constructs the first or primitive state, introducing the elements of political economy by the way. as he is going to frame a second or civilized state, the simple naturally comes before the complex. he indulges, like rousseau, in a picture of primitive life--an idea which has indeed often had a powerful influence on the imagination of mankind, but he does not seriously mean to say that one is better than the other (politicus); nor can any inference be drawn from the description of the first state taken apart from the second, such as aristotle appears to draw in the politics. we should not interpret a platonic dialogue any more than a poem or a parable in too literal or matter-of-fact a style. on the other hand, when we compare the lively fancy of plato with the dried-up abstractions of modern treatises on philosophy, we are compelled to say with protagoras, that the 'mythus is more interesting' (protag.) several interesting remarks which in modern times would have a place in a treatise on political economy are scattered up and down the writings of plato: especially laws, population; free trade; adulteration; wills and bequests; begging; eryxias, (though not plato's), value and demand; republic, division of labour. the last subject, and also the origin of retail trade, is treated with admirable lucidity in the second book of the republic. but plato never combined his economic ideas into a system, and never seems to have recognized that trade is one of the great motive powers of the state and of the world. he would make retail traders only of the inferior sort of citizens (rep., laws), though he remarks, quaintly enough (laws), that 'if only the best men and the best women everywhere were compelled to keep taverns for a time or to carry on retail trade, etc., then we should knew how pleasant and agreeable all these things are.' the disappointment of glaucon at the 'city of pigs,' the ludicrous description of the ministers of luxury in the more refined state, and the afterthought of the necessity of doctors, the illustration of the nature of the guardian taken from the dog, the desirableness of offering some almost unprocurable victim when impure mysteries are to be celebrated, the behaviour of zeus to his father and of hephaestus to his mother, are touches of humour which have also a serious meaning. in speaking of education plato rather startles us by affirming that a child must be trained in falsehood first and in truth afterwards. yet this is not very different from saying that children must be taught through the medium of imagination as well as reason; that their minds can only develope gradually, and that there is much which they must learn without understanding. this is also the substance of plato's view, though he must be acknowledged to have drawn the line somewhat differently from modern ethical writers, respecting truth and falsehood. to us, economies or accommodations would not be allowable unless they were required by the human faculties or necessary for the communication of knowledge to the simple and ignorant. we should insist that the word was inseparable from the intention, and that we must not be 'falsely true,' i.e. speak or act falsely in support of what was right or true. but plato would limit the use of fictions only by requiring that they should have a good moral effect, and that such a dangerous weapon as falsehood should be employed by the rulers alone and for great objects. a greek in the age of plato attached no importance to the question whether his religion was an historical fact. he was just beginning to be conscious that the past had a history; but he could see nothing beyond homer and hesiod. whether their narratives were true or false did not seriously affect the political or social life of hellas. men only began to suspect that they were fictions when they recognised them to be immoral. and so in all religions: the consideration of their morality comes first, afterwards the truth of the documents in which they are recorded, or of the events natural or supernatural which are told of them. but in modern times, and in protestant countries perhaps more than in catholic, we have been too much inclined to identify the historical with the moral; and some have refused to believe in religion at all, unless a superhuman accuracy was discernible in every part of the record. the facts of an ancient or religious history are amongst the most important of all facts; but they are frequently uncertain, and we only learn the true lesson which is to be gathered from them when we place ourselves above them. these reflections tend to show that the difference between plato and ourselves, though not unimportant, is not so great as might at first sight appear. for we should agree with him in placing the moral before the historical truth of religion; and, generally, in disregarding those errors or misstatements of fact which necessarily occur in the early stages of all religions. we know also that changes in the traditions of a country cannot be made in a day; and are therefore tolerant of many things which science and criticism would condemn. we note in passing that the allegorical interpretation of mythology, said to have been first introduced as early as the sixth century before christ by theagenes of rhegium, was well established in the age of plato, and here, as in the phaedrus, though for a different reason, was rejected by him. that anachronisms whether of religion or law, when men have reached another stage of civilization, should be got rid of by fictions is in accordance with universal experience. great is the art of interpretation; and by a natural process, which when once discovered was always going on, what could not be altered was explained away. and so without any palpable inconsistency there existed side by side two forms of religion, the tradition inherited or invented by the poets and the customary worship of the temple; on the other hand, there was the religion of the philosopher, who was dwelling in the heaven of ideas, but did not therefore refuse to offer a cock to aesculapius, or to be seen saying his prayers at the rising of the sun. at length the antagonism between the popular and philosophical religion, never so great among the greeks as in our own age, disappeared, and was only felt like the difference between the religion of the educated and uneducated among ourselves. the zeus of homer and hesiod easily passed into the 'royal mind' of plato (philebus); the giant heracles became the knight-errant and benefactor of mankind. these and still more wonderful transformations were readily effected by the ingenuity of stoics and neo-platonists in the two or three centuries before and after christ. the greek and roman religions were gradually permeated by the spirit of philosophy; having lost their ancient meaning, they were resolved into poetry and morality; and probably were never purer than at the time of their decay, when their influence over the world was waning. a singular conception which occurs towards the end of the book is the lie in the soul; this is connected with the platonic and socratic doctrine that involuntary ignorance is worse than voluntary. the lie in the soul is a true lie, the corruption of the highest truth, the deception of the highest part of the soul, from which he who is deceived has no power of delivering himself. for example, to represent god as false or immoral, or, according to plato, as deluding men with appearances or as the author of evil; or again, to affirm with protagoras that 'knowledge is sensation,' or that 'being is becoming,' or with thrasymachus 'that might is right,' would have been regarded by plato as a lie of this hateful sort. the greatest unconsciousness of the greatest untruth, e.g. if, in the language of the gospels (john), 'he who was blind' were to say 'i see,' is another aspect of the state of mind which plato is describing. the lie in the soul may be further compared with the sin against the holy ghost (luke), allowing for the difference between greek and christian modes of speaking. to this is opposed the lie in words, which is only such a deception as may occur in a play or poem, or allegory or figure of speech, or in any sort of accommodation,--which though useless to the gods may be useful to men in certain cases. socrates is here answering the question which he had himself raised about the propriety of deceiving a madman; and he is also contrasting the nature of god and man. for god is truth, but mankind can only be true by appearing sometimes to be partial, or false. reserving for another place the greater questions of religion or education, we may note further, ( ) the approval of the old traditional education of greece; ( ) the preparation which plato is making for the attack on homer and the poets; ( ) the preparation which he is also making for the use of economies in the state; ( ) the contemptuous and at the same time euphemistic manner in which here as below he alludes to the 'chronique scandaleuse' of the gods. book iii. there is another motive in purifying religion, which is to banish fear; for no man can be courageous who is afraid of death, or who believes the tales which are repeated by the poets concerning the world below. they must be gently requested not to abuse hell; they may be reminded that their stories are both untrue and discouraging. nor must they be angry if we expunge obnoxious passages, such as the depressing words of achilles--'i would rather be a serving-man than rule over all the dead;' and the verses which tell of the squalid mansions, the senseless shadows, the flitting soul mourning over lost strength and youth, the soul with a gibber going beneath the earth like smoke, or the souls of the suitors which flutter about like bats. the terrors and horrors of cocytus and styx, ghosts and sapless shades, and the rest of their tartarean nomenclature, must vanish. such tales may have their use; but they are not the proper food for soldiers. as little can we admit the sorrows and sympathies of the homeric heroes:--achilles, the son of thetis, in tears, throwing ashes on his head, or pacing up and down the sea-shore in distraction; or priam, the cousin of the gods, crying aloud, rolling in the mire. a good man is not prostrated at the loss of children or fortune. neither is death terrible to him; and therefore lamentations over the dead should not be practised by men of note; they should be the concern of inferior persons only, whether women or men. still worse is the attribution of such weakness to the gods; as when the goddesses say, 'alas! my travail!' and worst of all, when the king of heaven himself laments his inability to save hector, or sorrows over the impending doom of his dear sarpedon. such a character of god, if not ridiculed by our young men, is likely to be imitated by them. nor should our citizens be given to excess of laughter--'such violent delights' are followed by a violent re-action. the description in the iliad of the gods shaking their sides at the clumsiness of hephaestus will not be admitted by us. 'certainly not.' truth should have a high place among the virtues, for falsehood, as we were saying, is useless to the gods, and only useful to men as a medicine. but this employment of falsehood must remain a privilege of state; the common man must not in return tell a lie to the ruler; any more than the patient would tell a lie to his physician, or the sailor to his captain. in the next place our youth must be temperate, and temperance consists in self-control and obedience to authority. that is a lesson which homer teaches in some places: 'the achaeans marched on breathing prowess, in silent awe of their leaders;'--but a very different one in other places: 'o heavy with wine, who hast the eyes of a dog, but the heart of a stag.' language of the latter kind will not impress self-control on the minds of youth. the same may be said about his praises of eating and drinking and his dread of starvation; also about the verses in which he tells of the rapturous loves of zeus and here, or of how hephaestus once detained ares and aphrodite in a net on a similar occasion. there is a nobler strain heard in the words:--'endure, my soul, thou hast endured worse.' nor must we allow our citizens to receive bribes, or to say, 'gifts persuade the gods, gifts reverend kings;' or to applaud the ignoble advice of phoenix to achilles that he should get money out of the greeks before he assisted them; or the meanness of achilles himself in taking gifts from agamemnon; or his requiring a ransom for the body of hector; or his cursing of apollo; or his insolence to the river-god scamander; or his dedication to the dead patroclus of his own hair which had been already dedicated to the other river-god spercheius; or his cruelty in dragging the body of hector round the walls, and slaying the captives at the pyre: such a combination of meanness and cruelty in cheiron's pupil is inconceivable. the amatory exploits of peirithous and theseus are equally unworthy. either these so-called sons of gods were not the sons of gods, or they were not such as the poets imagine them, any more than the gods themselves are the authors of evil. the youth who believes that such things are done by those who have the blood of heaven flowing in their veins will be too ready to imitate their example. enough of gods and heroes;--what shall we say about men? what the poets and story-tellers say--that the wicked prosper and the righteous are afflicted, or that justice is another's gain? such misrepresentations cannot be allowed by us. but in this we are anticipating the definition of justice, and had therefore better defer the enquiry. the subjects of poetry have been sufficiently treated; next follows style. now all poetry is a narrative of events past, present, or to come; and narrative is of three kinds, the simple, the imitative, and a composition of the two. an instance will make my meaning clear. the first scene in homer is of the last or mixed kind, being partly description and partly dialogue. but if you throw the dialogue into the 'oratio obliqua,' the passage will run thus: the priest came and prayed apollo that the achaeans might take troy and have a safe return if agamemnon would only give him back his daughter; and the other greeks assented, but agamemnon was wroth, and so on--the whole then becomes descriptive, and the poet is the only speaker left; or, if you omit the narrative, the whole becomes dialogue. these are the three styles--which of them is to be admitted into our state? 'do you ask whether tragedy and comedy are to be admitted?' yes, but also something more--is it not doubtful whether our guardians are to be imitators at all? or rather, has not the question been already answered, for we have decided that one man cannot in his life play many parts, any more than he can act both tragedy and comedy, or be rhapsodist and actor at once? human nature is coined into very small pieces, and as our guardians have their own business already, which is the care of freedom, they will have enough to do without imitating. if they imitate they should imitate, not any meanness or baseness, but the good only; for the mask which the actor wears is apt to become his face. we cannot allow men to play the parts of women, quarrelling, weeping, scolding, or boasting against the gods,--least of all when making love or in labour. they must not represent slaves, or bullies, or cowards, drunkards, or madmen, or blacksmiths, or neighing horses, or bellowing bulls, or sounding rivers, or a raging sea. a good or wise man will be willing to perform good and wise actions, but he will be ashamed to play an inferior part which he has never practised; and he will prefer to employ the descriptive style with as little imitation as possible. the man who has no self-respect, on the contrary, will imitate anybody and anything; sounds of nature and cries of animals alike; his whole performance will be imitation of gesture and voice. now in the descriptive style there are few changes, but in the dramatic there are a great many. poets and musicians use either, or a compound of both, and this compound is very attractive to youth and their teachers as well as to the vulgar. but our state in which one man plays one part only is not adapted for complexity. and when one of these polyphonous pantomimic gentlemen offers to exhibit himself and his poetry we will show him every observance of respect, but at the same time tell him that there is no room for his kind in our state; we prefer the rough, honest poet, and will not depart from our original models (laws). next as to the music. a song or ode has three parts,--the subject, the harmony, and the rhythm; of which the two last are dependent upon the first. as we banished strains of lamentation, so we may now banish the mixed lydian harmonies, which are the harmonies of lamentation; and as our citizens are to be temperate, we may also banish convivial harmonies, such as the ionian and pure lydian. two remain--the dorian and phrygian, the first for war, the second for peace; the one expressive of courage, the other of obedience or instruction or religious feeling. and as we reject varieties of harmony, we shall also reject the many-stringed, variously-shaped instruments which give utterance to them, and in particular the flute, which is more complex than any of them. the lyre and the harp may be permitted in the town, and the pan's-pipe in the fields. thus we have made a purgation of music, and will now make a purgation of metres. these should be like the harmonies, simple and suitable to the occasion. there are four notes of the tetrachord, and there are three ratios of metre, / , / , / , which have all their characteristics, and the feet have different characteristics as well as the rhythms. but about this you and i must ask damon, the great musician, who speaks, if i remember rightly, of a martial measure as well as of dactylic, trochaic, and iambic rhythms, which he arranges so as to equalize the syllables with one another, assigning to each the proper quantity. we only venture to affirm the general principle that the style is to conform to the subject and the metre to the style; and that the simplicity and harmony of the soul should be reflected in them all. this principle of simplicity has to be learnt by every one in the days of his youth, and may be gathered anywhere, from the creative and constructive arts, as well as from the forms of plants and animals. other artists as well as poets should be warned against meanness or unseemliness. sculpture and painting equally with music must conform to the law of simplicity. he who violates it cannot be allowed to work in our city, and to corrupt the taste of our citizens. for our guardians must grow up, not amid images of deformity which will gradually poison and corrupt their souls, but in a land of health and beauty where they will drink in from every object sweet and harmonious influences. and of all these influences the greatest is the education given by music, which finds a way into the innermost soul and imparts to it the sense of beauty and of deformity. at first the effect is unconscious; but when reason arrives, then he who has been thus trained welcomes her as the friend whom he always knew. as in learning to read, first we acquire the elements or letters separately, and afterwards their combinations, and cannot recognize reflections of them until we know the letters themselves;--in like manner we must first attain the elements or essential forms of the virtues, and then trace their combinations in life and experience. there is a music of the soul which answers to the harmony of the world; and the fairest object of a musical soul is the fair mind in the fair body. some defect in the latter may be excused, but not in the former. true love is the daughter of temperance, and temperance is utterly opposed to the madness of bodily pleasure. enough has been said of music, which makes a fair ending with love. next we pass on to gymnastics; about which i would remark, that the soul is related to the body as a cause to an effect, and therefore if we educate the mind we may leave the education of the body in her charge, and need only give a general outline of the course to be pursued. in the first place the guardians must abstain from strong drink, for they should be the last persons to lose their wits. whether the habits of the palaestra are suitable to them is more doubtful, for the ordinary gymnastic is a sleepy sort of thing, and if left off suddenly is apt to endanger health. but our warrior athletes must be wide-awake dogs, and must also be inured to all changes of food and climate. hence they will require a simpler kind of gymnastic, akin to their simple music; and for their diet a rule may be found in homer, who feeds his heroes on roast meat only, and gives them no fish although they are living at the sea-side, nor boiled meats which involve an apparatus of pots and pans; and, if i am not mistaken, he nowhere mentions sweet sauces. sicilian cookery and attic confections and corinthian courtezans, which are to gymnastic what lydian and ionian melodies are to music, must be forbidden. where gluttony and intemperance prevail the town quickly fills with doctors and pleaders; and law and medicine give themselves airs as soon as the freemen of a state take an interest in them. but what can show a more disgraceful state of education than to have to go abroad for justice because you have none of your own at home? and yet there is a worse stage of the same disease--when men have learned to take a pleasure and pride in the twists and turns of the law; not considering how much better it would be for them so to order their lives as to have no need of a nodding justice. and there is a like disgrace in employing a physician, not for the cure of wounds or epidemic disorders, but because a man has by laziness and luxury contracted diseases which were unknown in the days of asclepius. how simple is the homeric practice of medicine. eurypylus after he has been wounded drinks a posset of pramnian wine, which is of a heating nature; and yet the sons of asclepius blame neither the damsel who gives him the drink, nor patroclus who is attending on him. the truth is that this modern system of nursing diseases was introduced by herodicus the trainer; who, being of a sickly constitution, by a compound of training and medicine tortured first himself and then a good many other people, and lived a great deal longer than he had any right. but asclepius would not practise this art, because he knew that the citizens of a well-ordered state have no leisure to be ill, and therefore he adopted the 'kill or cure' method, which artisans and labourers employ. 'they must be at their business,' they say, 'and have no time for coddling: if they recover, well; if they don't, there is an end of them.' whereas the rich man is supposed to be a gentleman who can afford to be ill. do you know a maxim of phocylides--that 'when a man begins to be rich' (or, perhaps, a little sooner) 'he should practise virtue'? but how can excessive care of health be inconsistent with an ordinary occupation, and yet consistent with that practice of virtue which phocylides inculcates? when a student imagines that philosophy gives him a headache, he never does anything; he is always unwell. this was the reason why asclepius and his sons practised no such art. they were acting in the interest of the public, and did not wish to preserve useless lives, or raise up a puny offspring to wretched sires. honest diseases they honestly cured; and if a man was wounded, they applied the proper remedies, and then let him eat and drink what he liked. but they declined to treat intemperate and worthless subjects, even though they might have made large fortunes out of them. as to the story of pindar, that asclepius was slain by a thunderbolt for restoring a rich man to life, that is a lie--following our old rule we must say either that he did not take bribes, or that he was not the son of a god. glaucon then asks socrates whether the best physicians and the best judges will not be those who have had severally the greatest experience of diseases and of crimes. socrates draws a distinction between the two professions. the physician should have had experience of disease in his own body, for he cures with his mind and not with his body. but the judge controls mind by mind; and therefore his mind should not be corrupted by crime. where then is he to gain experience? how is he to be wise and also innocent? when young a good man is apt to be deceived by evil-doers, because he has no pattern of evil in himself; and therefore the judge should be of a certain age; his youth should have been innocent, and he should have acquired insight into evil not by the practice of it, but by the observation of it in others. this is the ideal of a judge; the criminal turned detective is wonderfully suspicious, but when in company with good men who have experience, he is at fault, for he foolishly imagines that every one is as bad as himself. vice may be known of virtue, but cannot know virtue. this is the sort of medicine and this the sort of law which will prevail in our state; they will be healing arts to better natures; but the evil body will be left to die by the one, and the evil soul will be put to death by the other. and the need of either will be greatly diminished by good music which will give harmony to the soul, and good gymnastic which will give health to the body. not that this division of music and gymnastic really corresponds to soul and body; for they are both equally concerned with the soul, which is tamed by the one and aroused and sustained by the other. the two together supply our guardians with their twofold nature. the passionate disposition when it has too much gymnastic is hardened and brutalized, the gentle or philosophic temper which has too much music becomes enervated. while a man is allowing music to pour like water through the funnel of his ears, the edge of his soul gradually wears away, and the passionate or spirited element is melted out of him. too little spirit is easily exhausted; too much quickly passes into nervous irritability. so, again, the athlete by feeding and training has his courage doubled, but he soon grows stupid; he is like a wild beast, ready to do everything by blows and nothing by counsel or policy. there are two principles in man, reason and passion, and to these, not to the soul and body, the two arts of music and gymnastic correspond. he who mingles them in harmonious concord is the true musician,--he shall be the presiding genius of our state. the next question is, who are to be our rulers? first, the elder must rule the younger; and the best of the elders will be the best guardians. now they will be the best who love their subjects most, and think that they have a common interest with them in the welfare of the state. these we must select; but they must be watched at every epoch of life to see whether they have retained the same opinions and held out against force and enchantment. for time and persuasion and the love of pleasure may enchant a man into a change of purpose, and the force of grief and pain may compel him. and therefore our guardians must be men who have been tried by many tests, like gold in the refiner's fire, and have been passed first through danger, then through pleasure, and at every age have come out of such trials victorious and without stain, in full command of themselves and their principles; having all their faculties in harmonious exercise for their country's good. these shall receive the highest honours both in life and death. (it would perhaps be better to confine the term 'guardians' to this select class: the younger men may be called 'auxiliaries.') and now for one magnificent lie, in the belief of which, oh that we could train our rulers!--at any rate let us make the attempt with the rest of the world. what i am going to tell is only another version of the legend of cadmus; but our unbelieving generation will be slow to accept such a story. the tale must be imparted, first to the rulers, then to the soldiers, lastly to the people. we will inform them that their youth was a dream, and that during the time when they seemed to be undergoing their education they were really being fashioned in the earth, who sent them up when they were ready; and that they must protect and cherish her whose children they are, and regard each other as brothers and sisters. 'i do not wonder at your being ashamed to propound such a fiction.' there is more behind. these brothers and sisters have different natures, and some of them god framed to rule, whom he fashioned of gold; others he made of silver, to be auxiliaries; others again to be husbandmen and craftsmen, and these were formed by him of brass and iron. but as they are all sprung from a common stock, a golden parent may have a silver son, or a silver parent a golden son, and then there must be a change of rank; the son of the rich must descend, and the child of the artisan rise, in the social scale; for an oracle says 'that the state will come to an end if governed by a man of brass or iron.' will our citizens ever believe all this? 'not in the present generation, but in the next, perhaps, yes.' now let the earthborn men go forth under the command of their rulers, and look about and pitch their camp in a high place, which will be safe against enemies from without, and likewise against insurrections from within. there let them sacrifice and set up their tents; for soldiers they are to be and not shopkeepers, the watchdogs and guardians of the sheep; and luxury and avarice will turn them into wolves and tyrants. their habits and their dwellings should correspond to their education. they should have no property; their pay should only meet their expenses; and they should have common meals. gold and silver we will tell them that they have from god, and this divine gift in their souls they must not alloy with that earthly dross which passes under the name of gold. they only of the citizens may not touch it, or be under the same roof with it, or drink from it; it is the accursed thing. should they ever acquire houses or lands or money of their own, they will become householders and tradesmen instead of guardians, enemies and tyrants instead of helpers, and the hour of ruin, both to themselves and the rest of the state, will be at hand. the religious and ethical aspect of plato's education will hereafter be considered under a separate head. some lesser points may be more conveniently noticed in this place. . the constant appeal to the authority of homer, whom, with grave irony, plato, after the manner of his age, summons as a witness about ethics and psychology, as well as about diet and medicine; attempting to distinguish the better lesson from the worse, sometimes altering the text from design; more than once quoting or alluding to homer inaccurately, after the manner of the early logographers turning the iliad into prose, and delighting to draw far-fetched inferences from his words, or to make ludicrous applications of them. he does not, like heracleitus, get into a rage with homer and archilochus (heracl.), but uses their words and expressions as vehicles of a higher truth; not on a system like theagenes of rhegium or metrodorus, or in later times the stoics, but as fancy may dictate. and the conclusions drawn from them are sound, although the premises are fictitious. these fanciful appeals to homer add a charm to plato's style, and at the same time they have the effect of a satire on the follies of homeric interpretation. to us (and probably to himself), although they take the form of arguments, they are really figures of speech. they may be compared with modern citations from scripture, which have often a great rhetorical power even when the original meaning of the words is entirely lost sight of. the real, like the platonic socrates, as we gather from the memorabilia of xenophon, was fond of making similar adaptations. great in all ages and countries, in religion as well as in law and literature, has been the art of interpretation. . 'the style is to conform to the subject and the metre to the style.' notwithstanding the fascination which the word 'classical' exercises over us, we can hardly maintain that this rule is observed in all the greek poetry which has come down to us. we cannot deny that the thought often exceeds the power of lucid expression in aeschylus and pindar; or that rhetoric gets the better of the thought in the sophist-poet euripides. only perhaps in sophocles is there a perfect harmony of the two; in him alone do we find a grace of language like the beauty of a greek statue, in which there is nothing to add or to take away; at least this is true of single plays or of large portions of them. the connection in the tragic choruses and in the greek lyric poets is not unfrequently a tangled thread which in an age before logic the poet was unable to draw out. many thoughts and feelings mingled in his mind, and he had no power of disengaging or arranging them. for there is a subtle influence of logic which requires to be transferred from prose to poetry, just as the music and perfection of language are infused by poetry into prose. in all ages the poet has been a bad judge of his own meaning (apol.); for he does not see that the word which is full of associations to his own mind is difficult and unmeaning to that of another; or that the sequence which is clear to himself is puzzling to others. there are many passages in some of our greatest modern poets which are far too obscure; in which there is no proportion between style and subject, in which any half-expressed figure, any harsh construction, any distorted collocation of words, any remote sequence of ideas is admitted; and there is no voice 'coming sweetly from nature,' or music adding the expression of feeling to thought. as if there could be poetry without beauty, or beauty without ease and clearness. the obscurities of early greek poets arose necessarily out of the state of language and logic which existed in their age. they are not examples to be followed by us; for the use of language ought in every generation to become clearer and clearer. like shakespere, they were great in spite, not in consequence, of their imperfections of expression. but there is no reason for returning to the necessary obscurity which prevailed in the infancy of literature. the english poets of the last century were certainly not obscure; and we have no excuse for losing what they had gained, or for going back to the earlier or transitional age which preceded them. the thought of our own times has not out-stripped language; a want of plato's 'art of measuring' is the rule cause of the disproportion between them. . in the third book of the republic a nearer approach is made to a theory of art than anywhere else in plato. his views may be summed up as follows:--true art is not fanciful and imitative, but simple and ideal,--the expression of the highest moral energy, whether in action or repose. to live among works of plastic art which are of this noble and simple character, or to listen to such strains, is the best of influences,--the true greek atmosphere, in which youth should be brought up. that is the way to create in them a natural good taste, which will have a feeling of truth and beauty in all things. for though the poets are to be expelled, still art is recognized as another aspect of reason--like love in the symposium, extending over the same sphere, but confined to the preliminary education, and acting through the power of habit; and this conception of art is not limited to strains of music or the forms of plastic art, but pervades all nature and has a wide kindred in the world. the republic of plato, like the athens of pericles, has an artistic as well as a political side. there is hardly any mention in plato of the creative arts; only in two or three passages does he even allude to them (rep.; soph.). he is not lost in rapture at the great works of phidias, the parthenon, the propylea, the statues of zeus or athene. he would probably have regarded any abstract truth of number or figure as higher than the greatest of them. yet it is hard to suppose that some influence, such as he hopes to inspire in youth, did not pass into his own mind from the works of art which he saw around him. we are living upon the fragments of them, and find in a few broken stones the standard of truth and beauty. but in plato this feeling has no expression; he nowhere says that beauty is the object of art; he seems to deny that wisdom can take an external form (phaedrus); he does not distinguish the fine from the mechanical arts. whether or no, like some writers, he felt more than he expressed, it is at any rate remarkable that the greatest perfection of the fine arts should coincide with an almost entire silence about them. in one very striking passage he tells us that a work of art, like the state, is a whole; and this conception of a whole and the love of the newly-born mathematical sciences may be regarded, if not as the inspiring, at any rate as the regulating principles of greek art (xen. mem.; and sophist). . plato makes the true and subtle remark that the physician had better not be in robust health; and should have known what illness is in his own person. but the judge ought to have had no similar experience of evil; he is to be a good man who, having passed his youth in innocence, became acquainted late in life with the vices of others. and therefore, according to plato, a judge should not be young, just as a young man according to aristotle is not fit to be a hearer of moral philosophy. the bad, on the other hand, have a knowledge of vice, but no knowledge of virtue. it may be doubted, however, whether this train of reflection is well founded. in a remarkable passage of the laws it is acknowledged that the evil may form a correct estimate of the good. the union of gentleness and courage in book ii. at first seemed to be a paradox, yet was afterwards ascertained to be a truth. and plato might also have found that the intuition of evil may be consistent with the abhorrence of it. there is a directness of aim in virtue which gives an insight into vice. and the knowledge of character is in some degree a natural sense independent of any special experience of good or evil. . one of the most remarkable conceptions of plato, because un-greek and also very different from anything which existed at all in his age of the world, is the transposition of ranks. in the spartan state there had been enfranchisement of helots and degradation of citizens under special circumstances. and in the ancient greek aristocracies, merit was certainly recognized as one of the elements on which government was based. the founders of states were supposed to be their benefactors, who were raised by their great actions above the ordinary level of humanity; at a later period, the services of warriors and legislators were held to entitle them and their descendants to the privileges of citizenship and to the first rank in the state. and although the existence of an ideal aristocracy is slenderly proven from the remains of early greek history, and we have a difficulty in ascribing such a character, however the idea may be defined, to any actual hellenic state--or indeed to any state which has ever existed in the world--still the rule of the best was certainly the aspiration of philosophers, who probably accommodated a good deal their views of primitive history to their own notions of good government. plato further insists on applying to the guardians of his state a series of tests by which all those who fell short of a fixed standard were either removed from the governing body, or not admitted to it; and this 'academic' discipline did to a certain extent prevail in greek states, especially in sparta. he also indicates that the system of caste, which existed in a great part of the ancient, and is by no means extinct in the modern european world, should be set aside from time to time in favour of merit. he is aware how deeply the greater part of mankind resent any interference with the order of society, and therefore he proposes his novel idea in the form of what he himself calls a 'monstrous fiction.' (compare the ceremony of preparation for the two 'great waves' in book v.) two principles are indicated by him: first, that there is a distinction of ranks dependent on circumstances prior to the individual: second, that this distinction is and ought to be broken through by personal qualities. he adapts mythology like the homeric poems to the wants of the state, making 'the phoenician tale' the vehicle of his ideas. every greek state had a myth respecting its own origin; the platonic republic may also have a tale of earthborn men. the gravity and verisimilitude with which the tale is told, and the analogy of greek tradition, are a sufficient verification of the 'monstrous falsehood.' ancient poetry had spoken of a gold and silver and brass and iron age succeeding one another, but plato supposes these differences in the natures of men to exist together in a single state. mythology supplies a figure under which the lesson may be taught (as protagoras says, 'the myth is more interesting'), and also enables plato to touch lightly on new principles without going into details. in this passage he shadows forth a general truth, but he does not tell us by what steps the transposition of ranks is to be effected. indeed throughout the republic he allows the lower ranks to fade into the distance. we do not know whether they are to carry arms, and whether in the fifth book they are or are not included in the communistic regulations respecting property and marriage. nor is there any use in arguing strictly either from a few chance words, or from the silence of plato, or in drawing inferences which were beyond his vision. aristotle, in his criticism on the position of the lower classes, does not perceive that the poetical creation is 'like the air, invulnerable,' and cannot be penetrated by the shafts of his logic (pol.). . two paradoxes which strike the modern reader as in the highest degree fanciful and ideal, and which suggest to him many reflections, are to be found in the third book of the republic: first, the great power of music, so much beyond any influence which is experienced by us in modern times, when the art or science has been far more developed, and has found the secret of harmony, as well as of melody; secondly, the indefinite and almost absolute control which the soul is supposed to exercise over the body. in the first we suspect some degree of exaggeration, such as we may also observe among certain masters of the art, not unknown to us, at the present day. with this natural enthusiasm, which is felt by a few only, there seems to mingle in plato a sort of pythagorean reverence for numbers and numerical proportion to which aristotle is a stranger. intervals of sound and number are to him sacred things which have a law of their own, not dependent on the variations of sense. they rise above sense, and become a connecting link with the world of ideas. but it is evident that plato is describing what to him appears to be also a fact. the power of a simple and characteristic melody on the impressible mind of the greek is more than we can easily appreciate. the effect of national airs may bear some comparison with it. and, besides all this, there is a confusion between the harmony of musical notes and the harmony of soul and body, which is so potently inspired by them. the second paradox leads up to some curious and interesting questions--how far can the mind control the body? is the relation between them one of mutual antagonism or of mutual harmony? are they two or one, and is either of them the cause of the other? may we not at times drop the opposition between them, and the mode of describing them, which is so familiar to us, and yet hardly conveys any precise meaning, and try to view this composite creature, man, in a more simple manner? must we not at any rate admit that there is in human nature a higher and a lower principle, divided by no distinct line, which at times break asunder and take up arms against one another? or again, they are reconciled and move together, either unconsciously in the ordinary work of life, or consciously in the pursuit of some noble aim, to be attained not without an effort, and for which every thought and nerve are strained. and then the body becomes the good friend or ally, or servant or instrument of the mind. and the mind has often a wonderful and almost superhuman power of banishing disease and weakness and calling out a hidden strength. reason and the desires, the intellect and the senses are brought into harmony and obedience so as to form a single human being. they are ever parting, ever meeting; and the identity or diversity of their tendencies or operations is for the most part unnoticed by us. when the mind touches the body through the appetites, we acknowledge the responsibility of the one to the other. there is a tendency in us which says 'drink.' there is another which says, 'do not drink; it is not good for you.' and we all of us know which is the rightful superior. we are also responsible for our health, although into this sphere there enter some elements of necessity which may be beyond our control. still even in the management of health, care and thought, continued over many years, may make us almost free agents, if we do not exact too much of ourselves, and if we acknowledge that all human freedom is limited by the laws of nature and of mind. we are disappointed to find that plato, in the general condemnation which he passes on the practice of medicine prevailing in his own day, depreciates the effects of diet. he would like to have diseases of a definite character and capable of receiving a definite treatment. he is afraid of invalidism interfering with the business of life. he does not recognize that time is the great healer both of mental and bodily disorders; and that remedies which are gradual and proceed little by little are safer than those which produce a sudden catastrophe. neither does he see that there is no way in which the mind can more surely influence the body than by the control of eating and drinking; or any other action or occasion of human life on which the higher freedom of the will can be more simple or truly asserted. . lesser matters of style may be remarked. ( ) the affected ignorance of music, which is plato's way of expressing that he is passing lightly over the subject. ( ) the tentative manner in which here, as in the second book, he proceeds with the construction of the state. ( ) the description of the state sometimes as a reality, and then again as a work of imagination only; these are the arts by which he sustains the reader's interest. ( ) connecting links, or the preparation for the entire expulsion of the poets in book x. ( ) the companion pictures of the lover of litigation and the valetudinarian, the satirical jest about the maxim of phocylides, the manner in which the image of the gold and silver citizens is taken up into the subject, and the argument from the practice of asclepius, should not escape notice. book iv. adeimantus said: 'suppose a person to argue, socrates, that you make your citizens miserable, and this by their own free-will; they are the lords of the city, and yet instead of having, like other men, lands and houses and money of their own, they live as mercenaries and are always mounting guard.' you may add, i replied, that they receive no pay but only their food, and have no money to spend on a journey or a mistress. 'well, and what answer do you give?' my answer is, that our guardians may or may not be the happiest of men,--i should not be surprised to find in the long-run that they were,--but this is not the aim of our constitution, which was designed for the good of the whole and not of any one part. if i went to a sculptor and blamed him for having painted the eye, which is the noblest feature of the face, not purple but black, he would reply: 'the eye must be an eye, and you should look at the statue as a whole.' 'now i can well imagine a fool's paradise, in which everybody is eating and drinking, clothed in purple and fine linen, and potters lie on sofas and have their wheel at hand, that they may work a little when they please; and cobblers and all the other classes of a state lose their distinctive character. and a state may get on without cobblers; but when the guardians degenerate into boon companions, then the ruin is complete. remember that we are not talking of peasants keeping holiday, but of a state in which every man is expected to do his own work. the happiness resides not in this or that class, but in the state as a whole. i have another remark to make:--a middle condition is best for artisans; they should have money enough to buy tools, and not enough to be independent of business. and will not the same condition be best for our citizens? if they are poor, they will be mean; if rich, luxurious and lazy; and in neither case contented. 'but then how will our poor city be able to go to war against an enemy who has money?' there may be a difficulty in fighting against one enemy; against two there will be none. in the first place, the contest will be carried on by trained warriors against well-to-do citizens: and is not a regular athlete an easy match for two stout opponents at least? suppose also, that before engaging we send ambassadors to one of the two cities, saying, 'silver and gold we have not; do you help us and take our share of the spoil;'--who would fight against the lean, wiry dogs, when they might join with them in preying upon the fatted sheep? 'but if many states join their resources, shall we not be in danger?' i am amused to hear you use the word 'state' of any but our own state. they are 'states,' but not 'a state'--many in one. for in every state there are two hostile nations, rich and poor, which you may set one against the other. but our state, while she remains true to her principles, will be in very deed the mightiest of hellenic states. to the size of the state there is no limit but the necessity of unity; it must be neither too large nor too small to be one. this is a matter of secondary importance, like the principle of transposition which was intimated in the parable of the earthborn men. the meaning there implied was that every man should do that for which he was fitted, and be at one with himself, and then the whole city would be united. but all these things are secondary, if education, which is the great matter, be duly regarded. when the wheel has once been set in motion, the speed is always increasing; and each generation improves upon the preceding, both in physical and moral qualities. the care of the governors should be directed to preserve music and gymnastic from innovation; alter the songs of a country, damon says, and you will soon end by altering its laws. the change appears innocent at first, and begins in play; but the evil soon becomes serious, working secretly upon the characters of individuals, then upon social and commercial relations, and lastly upon the institutions of a state; and there is ruin and confusion everywhere. but if education remains in the established form, there will be no danger. a restorative process will be always going on; the spirit of law and order will raise up what has fallen down. nor will any regulations be needed for the lesser matters of life--rules of deportment or fashions of dress. like invites like for good or for evil. education will correct deficiencies and supply the power of self-government. far be it from us to enter into the particulars of legislation; let the guardians take care of education, and education will take care of all other things. but without education they may patch and mend as they please; they will make no progress, any more than a patient who thinks to cure himself by some favourite remedy and will not give up his luxurious mode of living. if you tell such persons that they must first alter their habits, then they grow angry; they are charming people. 'charming,--nay, the very reverse.' evidently these gentlemen are not in your good graces, nor the state which is like them. and such states there are which first ordain under penalty of death that no one shall alter the constitution, and then suffer themselves to be flattered into and out of anything; and he who indulges them and fawns upon them, is their leader and saviour. 'yes, the men are as bad as the states.' but do you not admire their cleverness? 'nay, some of them are stupid enough to believe what the people tell them.' and when all the world is telling a man that he is six feet high, and he has no measure, how can he believe anything else? but don't get into a passion: to see our statesmen trying their nostrums, and fancying that they can cut off at a blow the hydra-like rogueries of mankind, is as good as a play. minute enactments are superfluous in good states, and are useless in bad ones. and now what remains of the work of legislation? nothing for us; but to apollo the god of delphi we leave the ordering of the greatest of all things--that is to say, religion. only our ancestral deity sitting upon the centre and navel of the earth will be trusted by us if we have any sense, in an affair of such magnitude. no foreign god shall be supreme in our realms... here, as socrates would say, let us 'reflect on' (greek) what has preceded: thus far we have spoken not of the happiness of the citizens, but only of the well-being of the state. they may be the happiest of men, but our principal aim in founding the state was not to make them happy. they were to be guardians, not holiday-makers. in this pleasant manner is presented to us the famous question both of ancient and modern philosophy, touching the relation of duty to happiness, of right to utility. first duty, then happiness, is the natural order of our moral ideas. the utilitarian principle is valuable as a corrective of error, and shows to us a side of ethics which is apt to be neglected. it may be admitted further that right and utility are co-extensive, and that he who makes the happiness of mankind his object has one of the highest and noblest motives of human action. but utility is not the historical basis of morality; nor the aspect in which moral and religious ideas commonly occur to the mind. the greatest happiness of all is, as we believe, the far-off result of the divine government of the universe. the greatest happiness of the individual is certainly to be found in a life of virtue and goodness. but we seem to be more assured of a law of right than we can be of a divine purpose, that 'all mankind should be saved;' and we infer the one from the other. and the greatest happiness of the individual may be the reverse of the greatest happiness in the ordinary sense of the term, and may be realised in a life of pain, or in a voluntary death. further, the word 'happiness' has several ambiguities; it may mean either pleasure or an ideal life, happiness subjective or objective, in this world or in another, of ourselves only or of our neighbours and of all men everywhere. by the modern founder of utilitarianism the self-regarding and disinterested motives of action are included under the same term, although they are commonly opposed by us as benevolence and self-love. the word happiness has not the definiteness or the sacredness of 'truth' and 'right'; it does not equally appeal to our higher nature, and has not sunk into the conscience of mankind. it is associated too much with the comforts and conveniences of life; too little with 'the goods of the soul which we desire for their own sake.' in a great trial, or danger, or temptation, or in any great and heroic action, it is scarcely thought of. for these reasons 'the greatest happiness' principle is not the true foundation of ethics. but though not the first principle, it is the second, which is like unto it, and is often of easier application. for the larger part of human actions are neither right nor wrong, except in so far as they tend to the happiness of mankind (introd. to gorgias and philebus). the same question reappears in politics, where the useful or expedient seems to claim a larger sphere and to have a greater authority. for concerning political measures, we chiefly ask: how will they affect the happiness of mankind? yet here too we may observe that what we term expediency is merely the law of right limited by the conditions of human society. right and truth are the highest aims of government as well as of individuals; and we ought not to lose sight of them because we cannot directly enforce them. they appeal to the better mind of nations; and sometimes they are too much for merely temporal interests to resist. they are the watchwords which all men use in matters of public policy, as well as in their private dealings; the peace of europe may be said to depend upon them. in the most commercial and utilitarian states of society the power of ideas remains. and all the higher class of statesmen have in them something of that idealism which pericles is said to have gathered from the teaching of anaxagoras. they recognise that the true leader of men must be above the motives of ambition, and that national character is of greater value than material comfort and prosperity. and this is the order of thought in plato; first, he expects his citizens to do their duty, and then under favourable circumstances, that is to say, in a well-ordered state, their happiness is assured. that he was far from excluding the modern principle of utility in politics is sufficiently evident from other passages; in which 'the most beneficial is affirmed to be the most honourable', and also 'the most sacred'. we may note ( ) the manner in which the objection of adeimantus here, is designed to draw out and deepen the argument of socrates. ( ) the conception of a whole as lying at the foundation both of politics and of art, in the latter supplying the only principle of criticism, which, under the various names of harmony, symmetry, measure, proportion, unity, the greek seems to have applied to works of art. ( ) the requirement that the state should be limited in size, after the traditional model of a greek state; as in the politics of aristotle, the fact that the cities of hellas were small is converted into a principle. ( ) the humorous pictures of the lean dogs and the fatted sheep, of the light active boxer upsetting two stout gentlemen at least, of the 'charming' patients who are always making themselves worse; or again, the playful assumption that there is no state but our own; or the grave irony with which the statesman is excused who believes that he is six feet high because he is told so, and having nothing to measure with is to be pardoned for his ignorance--he is too amusing for us to be seriously angry with him. ( ) the light and superficial manner in which religion is passed over when provision has been made for two great principles,--first, that religion shall be based on the highest conception of the gods, secondly, that the true national or hellenic type shall be maintained... socrates proceeds: but where amid all this is justice? son of ariston, tell me where. light a candle and search the city, and get your brother and the rest of our friends to help in seeking for her. 'that won't do,' replied glaucon, 'you yourself promised to make the search and talked about the impiety of deserting justice.' well, i said, i will lead the way, but do you follow. my notion is, that our state being perfect will contain all the four virtues--wisdom, courage, temperance, justice. if we eliminate the three first, the unknown remainder will be justice. first then, of wisdom: the state which we have called into being will be wise because politic. and policy is one among many kinds of skill,--not the skill of the carpenter, or of the worker in metal, or of the husbandman, but the skill of him who advises about the interests of the whole state. of such a kind is the skill of the guardians, who are a small class in number, far smaller than the blacksmiths; but in them is concentrated the wisdom of the state. and if this small ruling class have wisdom, then the whole state will be wise. our second virtue is courage, which we have no difficulty in finding in another class--that of soldiers. courage may be defined as a sort of salvation--the never-failing salvation of the opinions which law and education have prescribed concerning dangers. you know the way in which dyers first prepare the white ground and then lay on the dye of purple or of any other colour. colours dyed in this way become fixed, and no soap or lye will ever wash them out. now the ground is education, and the laws are the colours; and if the ground is properly laid, neither the soap of pleasure nor the lye of pain or fear will ever wash them out. this power which preserves right opinion about danger i would ask you to call 'courage,' adding the epithet 'political' or 'civilized' in order to distinguish it from mere animal courage and from a higher courage which may hereafter be discussed. two virtues remain; temperance and justice. more than the preceding virtues temperance suggests the idea of harmony. some light is thrown upon the nature of this virtue by the popular description of a man as 'master of himself'--which has an absurd sound, because the master is also the servant. the expression really means that the better principle in a man masters the worse. there are in cities whole classes--women, slaves and the like--who correspond to the worse, and a few only to the better; and in our state the former class are held under control by the latter. now to which of these classes does temperance belong? 'to both of them.' and our state if any will be the abode of temperance; and we were right in describing this virtue as a harmony which is diffused through the whole, making the dwellers in the city to be of one mind, and attuning the upper and middle and lower classes like the strings of an instrument, whether you suppose them to differ in wisdom, strength or wealth. and now we are near the spot; let us draw in and surround the cover and watch with all our eyes, lest justice should slip away and escape. tell me, if you see the thicket move first. 'nay, i would have you lead.' well then, offer up a prayer and follow. the way is dark and difficult; but we must push on. i begin to see a track. 'good news.' why, glaucon, our dulness of scent is quite ludicrous! while we are straining our eyes into the distance, justice is tumbling out at our feet. we are as bad as people looking for a thing which they have in their hands. have you forgotten our old principle of the division of labour, or of every man doing his own business, concerning which we spoke at the foundation of the state--what but this was justice? is there any other virtue remaining which can compete with wisdom and temperance and courage in the scale of political virtue? for 'every one having his own' is the great object of government; and the great object of trade is that every man should do his own business. not that there is much harm in a carpenter trying to be a cobbler, or a cobbler transforming himself into a carpenter; but great evil may arise from the cobbler leaving his last and turning into a guardian or legislator, or when a single individual is trainer, warrior, legislator, all in one. and this evil is injustice, or every man doing another's business. i do not say that as yet we are in a condition to arrive at a final conclusion. for the definition which we believe to hold good in states has still to be tested by the individual. having read the large letters we will now come back to the small. from the two together a brilliant light may be struck out... socrates proceeds to discover the nature of justice by a method of residues. each of the first three virtues corresponds to one of the three parts of the soul and one of the three classes in the state, although the third, temperance, has more of the nature of a harmony than the first two. if there be a fourth virtue, that can only be sought for in the relation of the three parts in the soul or classes in the state to one another. it is obvious and simple, and for that very reason has not been found out. the modern logician will be inclined to object that ideas cannot be separated like chemical substances, but that they run into one another and may be only different aspects or names of the same thing, and such in this instance appears to be the case. for the definition here given of justice is verbally the same as one of the definitions of temperance given by socrates in the charmides, which however is only provisional, and is afterwards rejected. and so far from justice remaining over when the other virtues are eliminated, the justice and temperance of the republic can with difficulty be distinguished. temperance appears to be the virtue of a part only, and one of three, whereas justice is a universal virtue of the whole soul. yet on the other hand temperance is also described as a sort of harmony, and in this respect is akin to justice. justice seems to differ from temperance in degree rather than in kind; whereas temperance is the harmony of discordant elements, justice is the perfect order by which all natures and classes do their own business, the right man in the right place, the division and co-operation of all the citizens. justice, again, is a more abstract notion than the other virtues, and therefore, from plato's point of view, the foundation of them, to which they are referred and which in idea precedes them. the proposal to omit temperance is a mere trick of style intended to avoid monotony. there is a famous question discussed in one of the earlier dialogues of plato (protagoras; arist. nic. ethics), 'whether the virtues are one or many?' this receives an answer which is to the effect that there are four cardinal virtues (now for the first time brought together in ethical philosophy), and one supreme over the rest, which is not like aristotle's conception of universal justice, virtue relative to others, but the whole of virtue relative to the parts. to this universal conception of justice or order in the first education and in the moral nature of man, the still more universal conception of the good in the second education and in the sphere of speculative knowledge seems to succeed. both might be equally described by the terms 'law,' 'order,' 'harmony;' but while the idea of good embraces 'all time and all existence,' the conception of justice is not extended beyond man. ...socrates is now going to identify the individual and the state. but first he must prove that there are three parts of the individual soul. his argument is as follows:--quantity makes no difference in quality. the word 'just,' whether applied to the individual or to the state, has the same meaning. and the term 'justice' implied that the same three principles in the state and in the individual were doing their own business. but are they really three or one? the question is difficult, and one which can hardly be solved by the methods which we are now using; but the truer and longer way would take up too much of our time. 'the shorter will satisfy me.' well then, you would admit that the qualities of states mean the qualities of the individuals who compose them? the scythians and thracians are passionate, our own race intellectual, and the egyptians and phoenicians covetous, because the individual members of each have such and such a character; the difficulty is to determine whether the several principles are one or three; whether, that is to say, we reason with one part of our nature, desire with another, are angry with another, or whether the whole soul comes into play in each sort of action. this enquiry, however, requires a very exact definition of terms. the same thing in the same relation cannot be affected in two opposite ways. but there is no impossibility in a man standing still, yet moving his arms, or in a top which is fixed on one spot going round upon its axis. there is no necessity to mention all the possible exceptions; let us provisionally assume that opposites cannot do or be or suffer opposites in the same relation. and to the class of opposites belong assent and dissent, desire and avoidance. and one form of desire is thirst and hunger: and here arises a new point--thirst is thirst of drink, hunger is hunger of food; not of warm drink or of a particular kind of food, with the single exception of course that the very fact of our desiring anything implies that it is good. when relative terms have no attributes, their correlatives have no attributes; when they have attributes, their correlatives also have them. for example, the term 'greater' is simply relative to 'less,' and knowledge refers to a subject of knowledge. but on the other hand, a particular knowledge is of a particular subject. again, every science has a distinct character, which is defined by an object; medicine, for example, is the science of health, although not to be confounded with health. having cleared our ideas thus far, let us return to the original instance of thirst, which has a definite object--drink. now the thirsty soul may feel two distinct impulses; the animal one saying 'drink;' the rational one, which says 'do not drink.' the two impulses are contradictory; and therefore we may assume that they spring from distinct principles in the soul. but is passion a third principle, or akin to desire? there is a story of a certain leontius which throws some light on this question. he was coming up from the piraeus outside the north wall, and he passed a spot where there were dead bodies lying by the executioner. he felt a longing desire to see them and also an abhorrence of them; at first he turned away and shut his eyes, then, suddenly tearing them open, he said,--'take your fill, ye wretches, of the fair sight.' now is there not here a third principle which is often found to come to the assistance of reason against desire, but never of desire against reason? this is passion or spirit, of the separate existence of which we may further convince ourselves by putting the following case:--when a man suffers justly, if he be of a generous nature he is not indignant at the hardships which he undergoes: but when he suffers unjustly, his indignation is his great support; hunger and thirst cannot tame him; the spirit within him must do or die, until the voice of the shepherd, that is, of reason, bidding his dog bark no more, is heard within. this shows that passion is the ally of reason. is passion then the same with reason? no, for the former exists in children and brutes; and homer affords a proof of the distinction between them when he says, 'he smote his breast, and thus rebuked his soul.' and now, at last, we have reached firm ground, and are able to infer that the virtues of the state and of the individual are the same. for wisdom and courage and justice in the state are severally the wisdom and courage and justice in the individuals who form the state. each of the three classes will do the work of its own class in the state, and each part in the individual soul; reason, the superior, and passion, the inferior, will be harmonized by the influence of music and gymnastic. the counsellor and the warrior, the head and the arm, will act together in the town of mansoul, and keep the desires in proper subjection. the courage of the warrior is that quality which preserves a right opinion about dangers in spite of pleasures and pains. the wisdom of the counsellor is that small part of the soul which has authority and reason. the virtue of temperance is the friendship of the ruling and the subject principles, both in the state and in the individual. of justice we have already spoken; and the notion already given of it may be confirmed by common instances. will the just state or the just individual steal, lie, commit adultery, or be guilty of impiety to gods and men? 'no.' and is not the reason of this that the several principles, whether in the state or in the individual, do their own business? and justice is the quality which makes just men and just states. moreover, our old division of labour, which required that there should be one man for one use, was a dream or anticipation of what was to follow; and that dream has now been realized in justice, which begins by binding together the three chords of the soul, and then acts harmoniously in every relation of life. and injustice, which is the insubordination and disobedience of the inferior elements in the soul, is the opposite of justice, and is inharmonious and unnatural, being to the soul what disease is to the body; for in the soul as well as in the body, good or bad actions produce good or bad habits. and virtue is the health and beauty and well-being of the soul, and vice is the disease and weakness and deformity of the soul. again the old question returns upon us: is justice or injustice the more profitable? the question has become ridiculous. for injustice, like mortal disease, makes life not worth having. come up with me to the hill which overhangs the city and look down upon the single form of virtue, and the infinite forms of vice, among which are four special ones, characteristic both of states and of individuals. and the state which corresponds to the single form of virtue is that which we have been describing, wherein reason rules under one of two names--monarchy and aristocracy. thus there are five forms in all, both of states and of souls... in attempting to prove that the soul has three separate faculties, plato takes occasion to discuss what makes difference of faculties. and the criterion which he proposes is difference in the working of the faculties. the same faculty cannot produce contradictory effects. but the path of early reasoners is beset by thorny entanglements, and he will not proceed a step without first clearing the ground. this leads him into a tiresome digression, which is intended to explain the nature of contradiction. first, the contradiction must be at the same time and in the same relation. secondly, no extraneous word must be introduced into either of the terms in which the contradictory proposition is expressed: for example, thirst is of drink, not of warm drink. he implies, what he does not say, that if, by the advice of reason, or by the impulse of anger, a man is restrained from drinking, this proves that thirst, or desire under which thirst is included, is distinct from anger and reason. but suppose that we allow the term 'thirst' or 'desire' to be modified, and say an 'angry thirst,' or a 'revengeful desire,' then the two spheres of desire and anger overlap and become confused. this case therefore has to be excluded. and still there remains an exception to the rule in the use of the term 'good,' which is always implied in the object of desire. these are the discussions of an age before logic; and any one who is wearied by them should remember that they are necessary to the clearing up of ideas in the first development of the human faculties. the psychology of plato extends no further than the division of the soul into the rational, irascible, and concupiscent elements, which, as far as we know, was first made by him, and has been retained by aristotle and succeeding ethical writers. the chief difficulty in this early analysis of the mind is to define exactly the place of the irascible faculty (greek), which may be variously described under the terms righteous indignation, spirit, passion. it is the foundation of courage, which includes in plato moral courage, the courage of enduring pain, and of surmounting intellectual difficulties, as well as of meeting dangers in war. though irrational, it inclines to side with the rational: it cannot be aroused by punishment when justly inflicted: it sometimes takes the form of an enthusiasm which sustains a man in the performance of great actions. it is the 'lion heart' with which the reason makes a treaty. on the other hand it is negative rather than positive; it is indignant at wrong or falsehood, but does not, like love in the symposium and phaedrus, aspire to the vision of truth or good. it is the peremptory military spirit which prevails in the government of honour. it differs from anger (greek), this latter term having no accessory notion of righteous indignation. although aristotle has retained the word, yet we may observe that 'passion' (greek) has with him lost its affinity to the rational and has become indistinguishable from 'anger' (greek). and to this vernacular use plato himself in the laws seems to revert, though not always. by modern philosophy too, as well as in our ordinary conversation, the words anger or passion are employed almost exclusively in a bad sense; there is no connotation of a just or reasonable cause by which they are aroused. the feeling of 'righteous indignation' is too partial and accidental to admit of our regarding it as a separate virtue or habit. we are tempted also to doubt whether plato is right in supposing that an offender, however justly condemned, could be expected to acknowledge the justice of his sentence; this is the spirit of a philosopher or martyr rather than of a criminal. we may observe how nearly plato approaches aristotle's famous thesis, that 'good actions produce good habits.' the words 'as healthy practices (greek) produce health, so do just practices produce justice,' have a sound very like the nicomachean ethics. but we note also that an incidental remark in plato has become a far-reaching principle in aristotle, and an inseparable part of a great ethical system. there is a difficulty in understanding what plato meant by 'the longer way': he seems to intimate some metaphysic of the future which will not be satisfied with arguing from the principle of contradiction. in the sixth and seventh books (compare sophist and parmenides) he has given us a sketch of such a metaphysic; but when glaucon asks for the final revelation of the idea of good, he is put off with the declaration that he has not yet studied the preliminary sciences. how he would have filled up the sketch, or argued about such questions from a higher point of view, we can only conjecture. perhaps he hoped to find some a priori method of developing the parts out of the whole; or he might have asked which of the ideas contains the other ideas, and possibly have stumbled on the hegelian identity of the 'ego' and the 'universal.' or he may have imagined that ideas might be constructed in some manner analogous to the construction of figures and numbers in the mathematical sciences. the most certain and necessary truth was to plato the universal; and to this he was always seeking to refer all knowledge or opinion, just as in modern times we seek to rest them on the opposite pole of induction and experience. the aspirations of metaphysicians have always tended to pass beyond the limits of human thought and language: they seem to have reached a height at which they are 'moving about in worlds unrealized,' and their conceptions, although profoundly affecting their own minds, become invisible or unintelligible to others. we are not therefore surprized to find that plato himself has nowhere clearly explained his doctrine of ideas; or that his school in a later generation, like his contemporaries glaucon and adeimantus, were unable to follow him in this region of speculation. in the sophist, where he is refuting the scepticism which maintained either that there was no such thing as predication, or that all might be predicated of all, he arrives at the conclusion that some ideas combine with some, but not all with all. but he makes only one or two steps forward on this path; he nowhere attains to any connected system of ideas, or even to a knowledge of the most elementary relations of the sciences to one another. book v. i was going to enumerate the four forms of vice or decline in states, when polemarchus--he was sitting a little farther from me than adeimantus--taking him by the coat and leaning towards him, said something in an undertone, of which i only caught the words, 'shall we let him off?' 'certainly not,' said adeimantus, raising his voice. whom, i said, are you not going to let off? 'you,' he said. why? 'because we think that you are not dealing fairly with us in omitting women and children, of whom you have slily disposed under the general formula that friends have all things in common.' and was i not right? 'yes,' he replied, 'but there are many sorts of communism or community, and we want to know which of them is right. the company, as you have just heard, are resolved to have a further explanation.' thrasymachus said, 'do you think that we have come hither to dig for gold, or to hear you discourse?' yes, i said; but the discourse should be of a reasonable length. glaucon added, 'yes, socrates, and there is reason in spending the whole of life in such discussions; but pray, without more ado, tell us how this community is to be carried out, and how the interval between birth and education is to be filled up.' well, i said, the subject has several difficulties--what is possible? is the first question. what is desirable? is the second. 'fear not,' he replied, 'for you are speaking among friends.' that, i replied, is a sorry consolation; i shall destroy my friends as well as myself. not that i mind a little innocent laughter; but he who kills the truth is a murderer. 'then,' said glaucon, laughing, 'in case you should murder us we will acquit you beforehand, and you shall be held free from the guilt of deceiving us.' socrates proceeds:--the guardians of our state are to be watch-dogs, as we have already said. now dogs are not divided into hes and shes--we do not take the masculine gender out to hunt and leave the females at home to look after their puppies. they have the same employments--the only difference between them is that the one sex is stronger and the other weaker. but if women are to have the same employments as men, they must have the same education--they must be taught music and gymnastics, and the art of war. i know that a great joke will be made of their riding on horseback and carrying weapons; the sight of the naked old wrinkled women showing their agility in the palaestra will certainly not be a vision of beauty, and may be expected to become a famous jest. but we must not mind the wits; there was a time when they might have laughed at our present gymnastics. all is habit: people have at last found out that the exposure is better than the concealment of the person, and now they laugh no more. evil only should be the subject of ridicule. the first question is, whether women are able either wholly or partially to share in the employments of men. and here we may be charged with inconsistency in making the proposal at all. for we started originally with the division of labour; and the diversity of employments was based on the difference of natures. but is there no difference between men and women? nay, are they not wholly different? there was the difficulty, glaucon, which made me unwilling to speak of family relations. however, when a man is out of his depth, whether in a pool or in an ocean, he can only swim for his life; and we must try to find a way of escape, if we can. the argument is, that different natures have different uses, and the natures of men and women are said to differ. but this is only a verbal opposition. we do not consider that the difference may be purely nominal and accidental; for example, a bald man and a hairy man are opposed in a single point of view, but you cannot infer that because a bald man is a cobbler a hairy man ought not to be a cobbler. now why is such an inference erroneous? simply because the opposition between them is partial only, like the difference between a male physician and a female physician, not running through the whole nature, like the difference between a physician and a carpenter. and if the difference of the sexes is only that the one beget and the other bear children, this does not prove that they ought to have distinct educations. admitting that women differ from men in capacity, do not men equally differ from one another? has not nature scattered all the qualities which our citizens require indifferently up and down among the two sexes? and even in their peculiar pursuits, are not women often, though in some cases superior to men, ridiculously enough surpassed by them? women are the same in kind as men, and have the same aptitude or want of aptitude for medicine or gymnastic or war, but in a less degree. one woman will be a good guardian, another not; and the good must be chosen to be the colleagues of our guardians. if however their natures are the same, the inference is that their education must also be the same; there is no longer anything unnatural or impossible in a woman learning music and gymnastic. and the education which we give them will be the very best, far superior to that of cobblers, and will train up the very best women, and nothing can be more advantageous to the state than this. therefore let them strip, clothed in their chastity, and share in the toils of war and in the defence of their country; he who laughs at them is a fool for his pains. the first wave is past, and the argument is compelled to admit that men and women have common duties and pursuits. a second and greater wave is rolling in--community of wives and children; is this either expedient or possible? the expediency i do not doubt; i am not so sure of the possibility. 'nay, i think that a considerable doubt will be entertained on both points.' i meant to have escaped the trouble of proving the first, but as you have detected the little stratagem i must even submit. only allow me to feed my fancy like the solitary in his walks, with a dream of what might be, and then i will return to the question of what can be. in the first place our rulers will enforce the laws and make new ones where they are wanted, and their allies or ministers will obey. you, as legislator, have already selected the men; and now you shall select the women. after the selection has been made, they will dwell in common houses and have their meals in common, and will be brought together by a necessity more certain than that of mathematics. but they cannot be allowed to live in licentiousness; that is an unholy thing, which the rulers are determined to prevent. for the avoidance of this, holy marriage festivals will be instituted, and their holiness will be in proportion to their usefulness. and here, glaucon, i should like to ask (as i know that you are a breeder of birds and animals), do you not take the greatest care in the mating? 'certainly.' and there is no reason to suppose that less care is required in the marriage of human beings. but then our rulers must be skilful physicians of the state, for they will often need a strong dose of falsehood in order to bring about desirable unions between their subjects. the good must be paired with the good, and the bad with the bad, and the offspring of the one must be reared, and of the other destroyed; in this way the flock will be preserved in prime condition. hymeneal festivals will be celebrated at times fixed with an eye to population, and the brides and bridegrooms will meet at them; and by an ingenious system of lots the rulers will contrive that the brave and the fair come together, and that those of inferior breed are paired with inferiors--the latter will ascribe to chance what is really the invention of the rulers. and when children are born, the offspring of the brave and fair will be carried to an enclosure in a certain part of the city, and there attended by suitable nurses; the rest will be hurried away to places unknown. the mothers will be brought to the fold and will suckle the children; care however must be taken that none of them recognise their own offspring; and if necessary other nurses may also be hired. the trouble of watching and getting up at night will be transferred to attendants. 'then the wives of our guardians will have a fine easy time when they are having children.' and quite right too, i said, that they should. the parents ought to be in the prime of life, which for a man may be reckoned at thirty years--from twenty-five, when he has 'passed the point at which the speed of life is greatest,' to fifty-five; and at twenty years for a woman--from twenty to forty. any one above or below those ages who partakes in the hymeneals shall be guilty of impiety; also every one who forms a marriage connexion at other times without the consent of the rulers. this latter regulation applies to those who are within the specified ages, after which they may range at will, provided they avoid the prohibited degrees of parents and children, or of brothers and sisters, which last, however, are not absolutely prohibited, if a dispensation be procured. 'but how shall we know the degrees of affinity, when all things are common?' the answer is, that brothers and sisters are all such as are born seven or nine months after the espousals, and their parents those who are then espoused, and every one will have many children and every child many parents. socrates proceeds: i have now to prove that this scheme is advantageous and also consistent with our entire polity. the greatest good of a state is unity; the greatest evil, discord and distraction. and there will be unity where there are no private pleasures or pains or interests--where if one member suffers all the members suffer, if one citizen is touched all are quickly sensitive; and the least hurt to the little finger of the state runs through the whole body and vibrates to the soul. for the true state, like an individual, is injured as a whole when any part is affected. every state has subjects and rulers, who in a democracy are called rulers, and in other states masters: but in our state they are called saviours and allies; and the subjects who in other states are termed slaves, are by us termed nurturers and paymasters, and those who are termed comrades and colleagues in other places, are by us called fathers and brothers. and whereas in other states members of the same government regard one of their colleagues as a friend and another as an enemy, in our state no man is a stranger to another; for every citizen is connected with every other by ties of blood, and these names and this way of speaking will have a corresponding reality--brother, father, sister, mother, repeated from infancy in the ears of children, will not be mere words. then again the citizens will have all things in common, in having common property they will have common pleasures and pains. can there be strife and contention among those who are of one mind; or lawsuits about property when men have nothing but their bodies which they call their own; or suits about violence when every one is bound to defend himself? the permission to strike when insulted will be an 'antidote' to the knife and will prevent disturbances in the state. but no younger man will strike an elder; reverence will prevent him from laying hands on his kindred, and he will fear that the rest of the family may retaliate. moreover, our citizens will be rid of the lesser evils of life; there will be no flattery of the rich, no sordid household cares, no borrowing and not paying. compared with the citizens of other states, ours will be olympic victors, and crowned with blessings greater still--they and their children having a better maintenance during life, and after death an honourable burial. nor has the happiness of the individual been sacrificed to the happiness of the state; our olympic victor has not been turned into a cobbler, but he has a happiness beyond that of any cobbler. at the same time, if any conceited youth begins to dream of appropriating the state to himself, he must be reminded that 'half is better than the whole.' 'i should certainly advise him to stay where he is when he has the promise of such a brave life.' but is such a community possible?--as among the animals, so also among men; and if possible, in what way possible? about war there is no difficulty; the principle of communism is adapted to military service. parents will take their children to look on at a battle, just as potters' boys are trained to the business by looking on at the wheel. and to the parents themselves, as to other animals, the sight of their young ones will prove a great incentive to bravery. young warriors must learn, but they must not run into danger, although a certain degree of risk is worth incurring when the benefit is great. the young creatures should be placed under the care of experienced veterans, and they should have wings--that is to say, swift and tractable steeds on which they may fly away and escape. one of the first things to be done is to teach a youth to ride. cowards and deserters shall be degraded to the class of husbandmen; gentlemen who allow themselves to be taken prisoners, may be presented to the enemy. but what shall be done to the hero? first of all he shall be crowned by all the youths in the army; secondly, he shall receive the right hand of fellowship; and thirdly, do you think that there is any harm in his being kissed? we have already determined that he shall have more wives than others, in order that he may have as many children as possible. and at a feast he shall have more to eat; we have the authority of homer for honouring brave men with 'long chines,' which is an appropriate compliment, because meat is a very strengthening thing. fill the bowl then, and give the best seats and meats to the brave--may they do them good! and he who dies in battle will be at once declared to be of the golden race, and will, as we believe, become one of hesiod's guardian angels. he shall be worshipped after death in the manner prescribed by the oracle; and not only he, but all other benefactors of the state who die in any other way, shall be admitted to the same honours. the next question is, how shall we treat our enemies? shall hellenes be enslaved? no; for there is too great a risk of the whole race passing under the yoke of the barbarians. or shall the dead be despoiled? certainly not; for that sort of thing is an excuse for skulking, and has been the ruin of many an army. there is meanness and feminine malice in making an enemy of the dead body, when the soul which was the owner has fled--like a dog who cannot reach his assailants, and quarrels with the stones which are thrown at him instead. again, the arms of hellenes should not be offered up in the temples of the gods; they are a pollution, for they are taken from brethren. and on similar grounds there should be a limit to the devastation of hellenic territory--the houses should not be burnt, nor more than the annual produce carried off. for war is of two kinds, civil and foreign; the first of which is properly termed 'discord,' and only the second 'war;' and war between hellenes is in reality civil war--a quarrel in a family, which is ever to be regarded as unpatriotic and unnatural, and ought to be prosecuted with a view to reconciliation in a true phil-hellenic spirit, as of those who would chasten but not utterly enslave. the war is not against a whole nation who are a friendly multitude of men, women, and children, but only against a few guilty persons; when they are punished peace will be restored. that is the way in which hellenes should war against one another--and against barbarians, as they war against one another now. 'but, my dear socrates, you are forgetting the main question: is such a state possible? i grant all and more than you say about the blessedness of being one family--fathers, brothers, mothers, daughters, going out to war together; but i want to ascertain the possibility of this ideal state.' you are too unmerciful. the first wave and the second wave i have hardly escaped, and now you will certainly drown me with the third. when you see the towering crest of the wave, i expect you to take pity. 'not a whit.' well, then, we were led to form our ideal polity in the search after justice, and the just man answered to the just state. is this ideal at all the worse for being impracticable? would the picture of a perfectly beautiful man be any the worse because no such man ever lived? can any reality come up to the idea? nature will not allow words to be fully realized; but if i am to try and realize the ideal of the state in a measure, i think that an approach may be made to the perfection of which i dream by one or two, i do not say slight, but possible changes in the present constitution of states. i would reduce them to a single one--the great wave, as i call it. until, then, kings are philosophers, or philosophers are kings, cities will never cease from ill: no, nor the human race; nor will our ideal polity ever come into being. i know that this is a hard saying, which few will be able to receive. 'socrates, all the world will take off his coat and rush upon you with sticks and stones, and therefore i would advise you to prepare an answer.' you got me into the scrape, i said. 'and i was right,' he replied; 'however, i will stand by you as a sort of do-nothing, well-meaning ally.' having the help of such a champion, i will do my best to maintain my position. and first, i must explain of whom i speak and what sort of natures these are who are to be philosophers and rulers. as you are a man of pleasure, you will not have forgotten how indiscriminate lovers are in their attachments; they love all, and turn blemishes into beauties. the snub-nosed youth is said to have a winning grace; the beak of another has a royal look; the featureless are faultless; the dark are manly, the fair angels; the sickly have a new term of endearment invented expressly for them, which is 'honey-pale.' lovers of wine and lovers of ambition also desire the objects of their affection in every form. now here comes the point:--the philosopher too is a lover of knowledge in every form; he has an insatiable curiosity. 'but will curiosity make a philosopher? are the lovers of sights and sounds, who let out their ears to every chorus at the dionysiac festivals, to be called philosophers?' they are not true philosophers, but only an imitation. 'then how are we to describe the true?' you would acknowledge the existence of abstract ideas, such as justice, beauty, good, evil, which are severally one, yet in their various combinations appear to be many. those who recognize these realities are philosophers; whereas the other class hear sounds and see colours, and understand their use in the arts, but cannot attain to the true or waking vision of absolute justice or beauty or truth; they have not the light of knowledge, but of opinion, and what they see is a dream only. perhaps he of whom we say the last will be angry with us; can we pacify him without revealing the disorder of his mind? suppose we say that, if he has knowledge we rejoice to hear it, but knowledge must be of something which is, as ignorance is of something which is not; and there is a third thing, which both is and is not, and is matter of opinion only. opinion and knowledge, then, having distinct objects, must also be distinct faculties. and by faculties i mean powers unseen and distinguishable only by the difference in their objects, as opinion and knowledge differ, since the one is liable to err, but the other is unerring and is the mightiest of all our faculties. if being is the object of knowledge, and not-being of ignorance, and these are the extremes, opinion must lie between them, and may be called darker than the one and brighter than the other. this intermediate or contingent matter is and is not at the same time, and partakes both of existence and of non-existence. now i would ask my good friend, who denies abstract beauty and justice, and affirms a many beautiful and a many just, whether everything he sees is not in some point of view different--the beautiful ugly, the pious impious, the just unjust? is not the double also the half, and are not heavy and light relative terms which pass into one another? everything is and is not, as in the old riddle--'a man and not a man shot and did not shoot a bird and not a bird with a stone and not a stone.' the mind cannot be fixed on either alternative; and these ambiguous, intermediate, erring, half-lighted objects, which have a disorderly movement in the region between being and not-being, are the proper matter of opinion, as the immutable objects are the proper matter of knowledge. and he who grovels in the world of sense, and has only this uncertain perception of things, is not a philosopher, but a lover of opinion only... the fifth book is the new beginning of the republic, in which the community of property and of family are first maintained, and the transition is made to the kingdom of philosophers. for both of these plato, after his manner, has been preparing in some chance words of book iv, which fall unperceived on the reader's mind, as they are supposed at first to have fallen on the ear of glaucon and adeimantus. the 'paradoxes,' as morgenstern terms them, of this book of the republic will be reserved for another place; a few remarks on the style, and some explanations of difficulties, may be briefly added. first, there is the image of the waves, which serves for a sort of scheme or plan of the book. the first wave, the second wave, the third and greatest wave come rolling in, and we hear the roar of them. all that can be said of the extravagance of plato's proposals is anticipated by himself. nothing is more admirable than the hesitation with which he proposes the solemn text, 'until kings are philosophers,' etc.; or the reaction from the sublime to the ridiculous, when glaucon describes the manner in which the new truth will be received by mankind. some defects and difficulties may be noted in the execution of the communistic plan. nothing is told us of the application of communism to the lower classes; nor is the table of prohibited degrees capable of being made out. it is quite possible that a child born at one hymeneal festival may marry one of its own brothers or sisters, or even one of its parents, at another. plato is afraid of incestuous unions, but at the same time he does not wish to bring before us the fact that the city would be divided into families of those born seven and nine months after each hymeneal festival. if it were worth while to argue seriously about such fancies, we might remark that while all the old affinities are abolished, the newly prohibited affinity rests not on any natural or rational principle, but only upon the accident of children having been born in the same month and year. nor does he explain how the lots could be so manipulated by the legislature as to bring together the fairest and best. the singular expression which is employed to describe the age of five-and-twenty may perhaps be taken from some poet. in the delineation of the philosopher, the illustrations of the nature of philosophy derived from love are more suited to the apprehension of glaucon, the athenian man of pleasure, than to modern tastes or feelings. they are partly facetious, but also contain a germ of truth. that science is a whole, remains a true principle of inductive as well as of metaphysical philosophy; and the love of universal knowledge is still the characteristic of the philosopher in modern as well as in ancient times. at the end of the fifth book plato introduces the figment of contingent matter, which has exercised so great an influence both on the ethics and theology of the modern world, and which occurs here for the first time in the history of philosophy. he did not remark that the degrees of knowledge in the subject have nothing corresponding to them in the object. with him a word must answer to an idea; and he could not conceive of an opinion which was an opinion about nothing. the influence of analogy led him to invent 'parallels and conjugates' and to overlook facts. to us some of his difficulties are puzzling only from their simplicity: we do not perceive that the answer to them 'is tumbling out at our feet.' to the mind of early thinkers, the conception of not-being was dark and mysterious; they did not see that this terrible apparition which threatened destruction to all knowledge was only a logical determination. the common term under which, through the accidental use of language, two entirely different ideas were included was another source of confusion. thus through the ambiguity of (greek) plato, attempting to introduce order into the first chaos of human thought, seems to have confused perception and opinion, and to have failed to distinguish the contingent from the relative. in the theaetetus the first of these difficulties begins to clear up; in the sophist the second; and for this, as well as for other reasons, both these dialogues are probably to be regarded as later than the republic. book vi. having determined that the many have no knowledge of true being, and have no clear patterns in their minds of justice, beauty, truth, and that philosophers have such patterns, we have now to ask whether they or the many shall be rulers in our state. but who can doubt that philosophers should be chosen, if they have the other qualities which are required in a ruler? for they are lovers of the knowledge of the eternal and of all truth; they are haters of falsehood; their meaner desires are absorbed in the interests of knowledge; they are spectators of all time and all existence; and in the magnificence of their contemplation the life of man is as nothing to them, nor is death fearful. also they are of a social, gracious disposition, equally free from cowardice and arrogance. they learn and remember easily; they have harmonious, well-regulated minds; truth flows to them sweetly by nature. can the god of jealousy himself find any fault with such an assemblage of good qualities? here adeimantus interposes:--'no man can answer you, socrates; but every man feels that this is owing to his own deficiency in argument. he is driven from one position to another, until he has nothing more to say, just as an unskilful player at draughts is reduced to his last move by a more skilled opponent. and yet all the time he may be right. he may know, in this very instance, that those who make philosophy the business of their lives, generally turn out rogues if they are bad men, and fools if they are good. what do you say?' i should say that he is quite right. 'then how is such an admission reconcileable with the doctrine that philosophers should be kings?' i shall answer you in a parable which will also let you see how poor a hand i am at the invention of allegories. the relation of good men to their governments is so peculiar, that in order to defend them i must take an illustration from the world of fiction. conceive the captain of a ship, taller by a head and shoulders than any of the crew, yet a little deaf, a little blind, and rather ignorant of the seaman's art. the sailors want to steer, although they know nothing of the art; and they have a theory that it cannot be learned. if the helm is refused them, they drug the captain's posset, bind him hand and foot, and take possession of the ship. he who joins in the mutiny is termed a good pilot and what not; they have no conception that the true pilot must observe the winds and the stars, and must be their master, whether they like it or not;--such an one would be called by them fool, prater, star-gazer. this is my parable; which i will beg you to interpret for me to those gentlemen who ask why the philosopher has such an evil name, and to explain to them that not he, but those who will not use him, are to blame for his uselessness. the philosopher should not beg of mankind to be put in authority over them. the wise man should not seek the rich, as the proverb bids, but every man, whether rich or poor, must knock at the door of the physician when he has need of him. now the pilot is the philosopher--he whom in the parable they call star-gazer, and the mutinous sailors are the mob of politicians by whom he is rendered useless. not that these are the worst enemies of philosophy, who is far more dishonoured by her own professing sons when they are corrupted by the world. need i recall the original image of the philosopher? did we not say of him just now, that he loved truth and hated falsehood, and that he could not rest in the multiplicity of phenomena, but was led by a sympathy in his own nature to the contemplation of the absolute? all the virtues as well as truth, who is the leader of them, took up their abode in his soul. but as you were observing, if we turn aside to view the reality, we see that the persons who were thus described, with the exception of a small and useless class, are utter rogues. the point which has to be considered, is the origin of this corruption in nature. every one will admit that the philosopher, in our description of him, is a rare being. but what numberless causes tend to destroy these rare beings! there is no good thing which may not be a cause of evil--health, wealth, strength, rank, and the virtues themselves, when placed under unfavourable circumstances. for as in the animal or vegetable world the strongest seeds most need the accompaniment of good air and soil, so the best of human characters turn out the worst when they fall upon an unsuitable soil; whereas weak natures hardly ever do any considerable good or harm; they are not the stuff out of which either great criminals or great heroes are made. the philosopher follows the same analogy: he is either the best or the worst of all men. some persons say that the sophists are the corrupters of youth; but is not public opinion the real sophist who is everywhere present--in those very persons, in the assembly, in the courts, in the camp, in the applauses and hisses of the theatre re-echoed by the surrounding hills? will not a young man's heart leap amid these discordant sounds? and will any education save him from being carried away by the torrent? nor is this all. for if he will not yield to opinion, there follows the gentle compulsion of exile or death. what principle of rival sophists or anybody else can overcome in such an unequal contest? characters there may be more than human, who are exceptions--god may save a man, but not his own strength. further, i would have you consider that the hireling sophist only gives back to the world their own opinions; he is the keeper of the monster, who knows how to flatter or anger him, and observes the meaning of his inarticulate grunts. good is what pleases him, evil what he dislikes; truth and beauty are determined only by the taste of the brute. such is the sophist's wisdom, and such is the condition of those who make public opinion the test of truth, whether in art or in morals. the curse is laid upon them of being and doing what it approves, and when they attempt first principles the failure is ludicrous. think of all this and ask yourself whether the world is more likely to be a believer in the unity of the idea, or in the multiplicity of phenomena. and the world if not a believer in the idea cannot be a philosopher, and must therefore be a persecutor of philosophers. there is another evil:--the world does not like to lose the gifted nature, and so they flatter the young (alcibiades) into a magnificent opinion of his own capacity; the tall, proper youth begins to expand, and is dreaming of kingdoms and empires. if at this instant a friend whispers to him, 'now the gods lighten thee; thou art a great fool' and must be educated--do you think that he will listen? or suppose a better sort of man who is attracted towards philosophy, will they not make herculean efforts to spoil and corrupt him? are we not right in saying that the love of knowledge, no less than riches, may divert him? men of this class (critias) often become politicians--they are the authors of great mischief in states, and sometimes also of great good. and thus philosophy is deserted by her natural protectors, and others enter in and dishonour her. vulgar little minds see the land open and rush from the prisons of the arts into her temple. a clever mechanic having a soul coarse as his body, thinks that he will gain caste by becoming her suitor. for philosophy, even in her fallen estate, has a dignity of her own--and he, like a bald little blacksmith's apprentice as he is, having made some money and got out of durance, washes and dresses himself as a bridegroom and marries his master's daughter. what will be the issue of such marriages? will they not be vile and bastard, devoid of truth and nature? 'they will.' small, then, is the remnant of genuine philosophers; there may be a few who are citizens of small states, in which politics are not worth thinking of, or who have been detained by theages' bridle of ill health; for my own case of the oracular sign is almost unique, and too rare to be worth mentioning. and these few when they have tasted the pleasures of philosophy, and have taken a look at that den of thieves and place of wild beasts, which is human life, will stand aside from the storm under the shelter of a wall, and try to preserve their own innocence and to depart in peace. 'a great work, too, will have been accomplished by them.' great, yes, but not the greatest; for man is a social being, and can only attain his highest development in the society which is best suited to him. enough, then, of the causes why philosophy has such an evil name. another question is, which of existing states is suited to her? not one of them; at present she is like some exotic seed which degenerates in a strange soil; only in her proper state will she be shown to be of heavenly growth. 'and is her proper state ours or some other?' ours in all points but one, which was left undetermined. you may remember our saying that some living mind or witness of the legislator was needed in states. but we were afraid to enter upon a subject of such difficulty, and now the question recurs and has not grown easier:--how may philosophy be safely studied? let us bring her into the light of day, and make an end of the inquiry. in the first place, i say boldly that nothing can be worse than the present mode of study. persons usually pick up a little philosophy in early youth, and in the intervals of business, but they never master the real difficulty, which is dialectic. later, perhaps, they occasionally go to a lecture on philosophy. years advance, and the sun of philosophy, unlike that of heracleitus, sets never to rise again. this order of education should be reversed; it should begin with gymnastics in youth, and as the man strengthens, he should increase the gymnastics of his soul. then, when active life is over, let him finally return to philosophy. 'you are in earnest, socrates, but the world will be equally earnest in withstanding you--no more than thrasymachus.' do not make a quarrel between thrasymachus and me, who were never enemies and are now good friends enough. and i shall do my best to convince him and all mankind of the truth of my words, or at any rate to prepare for the future when, in another life, we may again take part in similar discussions. 'that will be a long time hence.' not long in comparison with eternity. the many will probably remain incredulous, for they have never seen the natural unity of ideas, but only artificial juxtapositions; not free and generous thoughts, but tricks of controversy and quips of law;--a perfect man ruling in a perfect state, even a single one they have not known. and we foresaw that there was no chance of perfection either in states or individuals until a necessity was laid upon philosophers--not the rogues, but those whom we called the useless class--of holding office; or until the sons of kings were inspired with a true love of philosophy. whether in the infinity of past time there has been, or is in some distant land, or ever will be hereafter, an ideal such as we have described, we stoutly maintain that there has been, is, and will be such a state whenever the muse of philosophy rules. will you say that the world is of another mind? o, my friend, do not revile the world! they will soon change their opinion if they are gently entreated, and are taught the true nature of the philosopher. who can hate a man who loves him? or be jealous of one who has no jealousy? consider, again, that the many hate not the true but the false philosophers--the pretenders who force their way in without invitation, and are always speaking of persons and not of principles, which is unlike the spirit of philosophy. for the true philosopher despises earthly strife; his eye is fixed on the eternal order in accordance with which he moulds himself into the divine image (and not himself only, but other men), and is the creator of the virtues private as well as public. when mankind see that the happiness of states is only to be found in that image, will they be angry with us for attempting to delineate it? 'certainly not. but what will be the process of delineation?' the artist will do nothing until he has made a tabula rasa; on this he will inscribe the constitution of a state, glancing often at the divine truth of nature, and from that deriving the godlike among men, mingling the two elements, rubbing out and painting in, until there is a perfect harmony or fusion of the divine and human. but perhaps the world will doubt the existence of such an artist. what will they doubt? that the philosopher is a lover of truth, having a nature akin to the best?--and if they admit this will they still quarrel with us for making philosophers our kings? 'they will be less disposed to quarrel.' let us assume then that they are pacified. still, a person may hesitate about the probability of the son of a king being a philosopher. and we do not deny that they are very liable to be corrupted; but yet surely in the course of ages there might be one exception--and one is enough. if one son of a king were a philosopher, and had obedient citizens, he might bring the ideal polity into being. hence we conclude that our laws are not only the best, but that they are also possible, though not free from difficulty. i gained nothing by evading the troublesome questions which arose concerning women and children. i will be wiser now and acknowledge that we must go to the bottom of another question: what is to be the education of our guardians? it was agreed that they were to be lovers of their country, and were to be tested in the refiner's fire of pleasures and pains, and those who came forth pure and remained fixed in their principles were to have honours and rewards in life and after death. but at this point, the argument put on her veil and turned into another path. i hesitated to make the assertion which i now hazard,--that our guardians must be philosophers. you remember all the contradictory elements, which met in the philosopher--how difficult to find them all in a single person! intelligence and spirit are not often combined with steadiness; the stolid, fearless, nature is averse to intellectual toil. and yet these opposite elements are all necessary, and therefore, as we were saying before, the aspirant must be tested in pleasures and dangers; and also, as we must now further add, in the highest branches of knowledge. you will remember, that when we spoke of the virtues mention was made of a longer road, which you were satisfied to leave unexplored. 'enough seemed to have been said.' enough, my friend; but what is enough while anything remains wanting? of all men the guardian must not faint in the search after truth; he must be prepared to take the longer road, or he will never reach that higher region which is above the four virtues; and of the virtues too he must not only get an outline, but a clear and distinct vision. (strange that we should be so precise about trifles, so careless about the highest truths!) 'and what are the highest?' you to pretend unconsciousness, when you have so often heard me speak of the idea of good, about which we know so little, and without which though a man gain the world he has no profit of it! some people imagine that the good is wisdom; but this involves a circle,--the good, they say, is wisdom, wisdom has to do with the good. according to others the good is pleasure; but then comes the absurdity that good is bad, for there are bad pleasures as well as good. again, the good must have reality; a man may desire the appearance of virtue, but he will not desire the appearance of good. ought our guardians then to be ignorant of this supreme principle, of which every man has a presentiment, and without which no man has any real knowledge of anything? 'but, socrates, what is this supreme principle, knowledge or pleasure, or what? you may think me troublesome, but i say that you have no business to be always repeating the doctrines of others instead of giving us your own.' can i say what i do not know? 'you may offer an opinion.' and will the blindness and crookedness of opinion content you when you might have the light and certainty of science? 'i will only ask you to give such an explanation of the good as you have given already of temperance and justice.' i wish that i could, but in my present mood i cannot reach to the height of the knowledge of the good. to the parent or principal i cannot introduce you, but to the child begotten in his image, which i may compare with the interest on the principal, i will. (audit the account, and do not let me give you a false statement of the debt.) you remember our old distinction of the many beautiful and the one beautiful, the particular and the universal, the objects of sight and the objects of thought? did you ever consider that the objects of sight imply a faculty of sight which is the most complex and costly of our senses, requiring not only objects of sense, but also a medium, which is light; without which the sight will not distinguish between colours and all will be a blank? for light is the noble bond between the perceiving faculty and the thing perceived, and the god who gives us light is the sun, who is the eye of the day, but is not to be confounded with the eye of man. this eye of the day or sun is what i call the child of the good, standing in the same relation to the visible world as the good to the intellectual. when the sun shines the eye sees, and in the intellectual world where truth is, there is sight and light. now that which is the sun of intelligent natures, is the idea of good, the cause of knowledge and truth, yet other and fairer than they are, and standing in the same relation to them in which the sun stands to light. o inconceivable height of beauty, which is above knowledge and above truth! ('you cannot surely mean pleasure,' he said. peace, i replied.) and this idea of good, like the sun, is also the cause of growth, and the author not of knowledge only, but of being, yet greater far than either in dignity and power. 'that is a reach of thought more than human; but, pray, go on with the image, for i suspect that there is more behind.' there is, i said; and bearing in mind our two suns or principles, imagine further their corresponding worlds--one of the visible, the other of the intelligible; you may assist your fancy by figuring the distinction under the image of a line divided into two unequal parts, and may again subdivide each part into two lesser segments representative of the stages of knowledge in either sphere. the lower portion of the lower or visible sphere will consist of shadows and reflections, and its upper and smaller portion will contain real objects in the world of nature or of art. the sphere of the intelligible will also have two divisions,--one of mathematics, in which there is no ascent but all is descent; no inquiring into premises, but only drawing of inferences. in this division the mind works with figures and numbers, the images of which are taken not from the shadows, but from the objects, although the truth of them is seen only with the mind's eye; and they are used as hypotheses without being analysed. whereas in the other division reason uses the hypotheses as stages or steps in the ascent to the idea of good, to which she fastens them, and then again descends, walking firmly in the region of ideas, and of ideas only, in her ascent as well as descent, and finally resting in them. 'i partly understand,' he replied; 'you mean that the ideas of science are superior to the hypothetical, metaphorical conceptions of geometry and the other arts or sciences, whichever is to be the name of them; and the latter conceptions you refuse to make subjects of pure intellect, because they have no first principle, although when resting on a first principle, they pass into the higher sphere.' you understand me very well, i said. and now to those four divisions of knowledge you may assign four corresponding faculties--pure intelligence to the highest sphere; active intelligence to the second; to the third, faith; to the fourth, the perception of shadows--and the clearness of the several faculties will be in the same ratio as the truth of the objects to which they are related... like socrates, we may recapitulate the virtues of the philosopher. in language which seems to reach beyond the horizon of that age and country, he is described as 'the spectator of all time and all existence.' he has the noblest gifts of nature, and makes the highest use of them. all his desires are absorbed in the love of wisdom, which is the love of truth. none of the graces of a beautiful soul are wanting in him; neither can he fear death, or think much of human life. the ideal of modern times hardly retains the simplicity of the antique; there is not the same originality either in truth or error which characterized the greeks. the philosopher is no longer living in the unseen, nor is he sent by an oracle to convince mankind of ignorance; nor does he regard knowledge as a system of ideas leading upwards by regular stages to the idea of good. the eagerness of the pursuit has abated; there is more division of labour and less of comprehensive reflection upon nature and human life as a whole; more of exact observation and less of anticipation and inspiration. still, in the altered conditions of knowledge, the parallel is not wholly lost; and there may be a use in translating the conception of plato into the language of our own age. the philosopher in modern times is one who fixes his mind on the laws of nature in their sequence and connexion, not on fragments or pictures of nature; on history, not on controversy; on the truths which are acknowledged by the few, not on the opinions of the many. he is aware of the importance of 'classifying according to nature,' and will try to 'separate the limbs of science without breaking them' (phaedr.). there is no part of truth, whether great or small, which he will dishonour; and in the least things he will discern the greatest (parmen.). like the ancient philosopher he sees the world pervaded by analogies, but he can also tell 'why in some cases a single instance is sufficient for an induction' (mill's logic), while in other cases a thousand examples would prove nothing. he inquires into a portion of knowledge only, because the whole has grown too vast to be embraced by a single mind or life. he has a clearer conception of the divisions of science and of their relation to the mind of man than was possible to the ancients. like plato, he has a vision of the unity of knowledge, not as the beginning of philosophy to be attained by a study of elementary mathematics, but as the far-off result of the working of many minds in many ages. he is aware that mathematical studies are preliminary to almost every other; at the same time, he will not reduce all varieties of knowledge to the type of mathematics. he too must have a nobility of character, without which genius loses the better half of greatness. regarding the world as a point in immensity, and each individual as a link in a never-ending chain of existence, he will not think much of his own life, or be greatly afraid of death. adeimantus objects first of all to the form of the socratic reasoning, thus showing that plato is aware of the imperfection of his own method. he brings the accusation against himself which might be brought against him by a modern logician--that he extracts the answer because he knows how to put the question. in a long argument words are apt to change their meaning slightly, or premises may be assumed or conclusions inferred with rather too much certainty or universality; the variation at each step may be unobserved, and yet at last the divergence becomes considerable. hence the failure of attempts to apply arithmetical or algebraic formulae to logic. the imperfection, or rather the higher and more elastic nature of language, does not allow words to have the precision of numbers or of symbols. and this quality in language impairs the force of an argument which has many steps. the objection, though fairly met by socrates in this particular instance, may be regarded as implying a reflection upon the socratic mode of reasoning. and here, as elsewhere, plato seems to intimate that the time had come when the negative and interrogative method of socrates must be superseded by a positive and constructive one, of which examples are given in some of the later dialogues. adeimantus further argues that the ideal is wholly at variance with facts; for experience proves philosophers to be either useless or rogues. contrary to all expectation socrates has no hesitation in admitting the truth of this, and explains the anomaly in an allegory, first characteristically depreciating his own inventive powers. in this allegory the people are distinguished from the professional politicians, and, as elsewhere, are spoken of in a tone of pity rather than of censure under the image of 'the noble captain who is not very quick in his perceptions.' the uselessness of philosophers is explained by the circumstance that mankind will not use them. the world in all ages has been divided between contempt and fear of those who employ the power of ideas and know no other weapons. concerning the false philosopher, socrates argues that the best is most liable to corruption; and that the finer nature is more likely to suffer from alien conditions. we too observe that there are some kinds of excellence which spring from a peculiar delicacy of constitution; as is evidently true of the poetical and imaginative temperament, which often seems to depend on impressions, and hence can only breathe or live in a certain atmosphere. the man of genius has greater pains and greater pleasures, greater powers and greater weaknesses, and often a greater play of character than is to be found in ordinary men. he can assume the disguise of virtue or disinterestedness without having them, or veil personal enmity in the language of patriotism and philosophy,--he can say the word which all men are thinking, he has an insight which is terrible into the follies and weaknesses of his fellow-men. an alcibiades, a mirabeau, or a napoleon the first, are born either to be the authors of great evils in states, or 'of great good, when they are drawn in that direction.' yet the thesis, 'corruptio optimi pessima,' cannot be maintained generally or without regard to the kind of excellence which is corrupted. the alien conditions which are corrupting to one nature, may be the elements of culture to another. in general a man can only receive his highest development in a congenial state or family, among friends or fellow-workers. but also he may sometimes be stirred by adverse circumstances to such a degree that he rises up against them and reforms them. and while weaker or coarser characters will extract good out of evil, say in a corrupt state of the church or of society, and live on happily, allowing the evil to remain, the finer or stronger natures may be crushed or spoiled by surrounding influences--may become misanthrope and philanthrope by turns; or in a few instances, like the founders of the monastic orders, or the reformers, owing to some peculiarity in themselves or in their age, may break away entirely from the world and from the church, sometimes into great good, sometimes into great evil, sometimes into both. and the same holds in the lesser sphere of a convent, a school, a family. plato would have us consider how easily the best natures are overpowered by public opinion, and what efforts the rest of mankind will make to get possession of them. the world, the church, their own profession, any political or party organization, are always carrying them off their legs and teaching them to apply high and holy names to their own prejudices and interests. the 'monster' corporation to which they belong judges right and truth to be the pleasure of the community. the individual becomes one with his order; or, if he resists, the world is too much for him, and will sooner or later be revenged on him. this is, perhaps, a one-sided but not wholly untrue picture of the maxims and practice of mankind when they 'sit down together at an assembly,' either in ancient or modern times. when the higher natures are corrupted by politics, the lower take possession of the vacant place of philosophy. this is described in one of those continuous images in which the argument, to use a platonic expression, 'veils herself,' and which is dropped and reappears at intervals. the question is asked,--why are the citizens of states so hostile to philosophy? the answer is, that they do not know her. and yet there is also a better mind of the many; they would believe if they were taught. but hitherto they have only known a conventional imitation of philosophy, words without thoughts, systems which have no life in them; a (divine) person uttering the words of beauty and freedom, the friend of man holding communion with the eternal, and seeking to frame the state in that image, they have never known. the same double feeling respecting the mass of mankind has always existed among men. the first thought is that the people are the enemies of truth and right; the second, that this only arises out of an accidental error and confusion, and that they do not really hate those who love them, if they could be educated to know them. in the latter part of the sixth book, three questions have to be considered: st, the nature of the longer and more circuitous way, which is contrasted with the shorter and more imperfect method of book iv; nd, the heavenly pattern or idea of the state; rd, the relation of the divisions of knowledge to one another and to the corresponding faculties of the soul: . of the higher method of knowledge in plato we have only a glimpse. neither here nor in the phaedrus or symposium, nor yet in the philebus or sophist, does he give any clear explanation of his meaning. he would probably have described his method as proceeding by regular steps to a system of universal knowledge, which inferred the parts from the whole rather than the whole from the parts. this ideal logic is not practised by him in the search after justice, or in the analysis of the parts of the soul; there, like aristotle in the nicomachean ethics, he argues from experience and the common use of language. but at the end of the sixth book he conceives another and more perfect method, in which all ideas are only steps or grades or moments of thought, forming a connected whole which is self-supporting, and in which consistency is the test of truth. he does not explain to us in detail the nature of the process. like many other thinkers both in ancient and modern times his mind seems to be filled with a vacant form which he is unable to realize. he supposes the sciences to have a natural order and connexion in an age when they can hardly be said to exist. he is hastening on to the 'end of the intellectual world' without even making a beginning of them. in modern times we hardly need to be reminded that the process of acquiring knowledge is here confused with the contemplation of absolute knowledge. in all science a priori and a posteriori truths mingle in various proportions. the a priori part is that which is derived from the most universal experience of men, or is universally accepted by them; the a posteriori is that which grows up around the more general principles and becomes imperceptibly one with them. but plato erroneously imagines that the synthesis is separable from the analysis, and that the method of science can anticipate science. in entertaining such a vision of a priori knowledge he is sufficiently justified, or at least his meaning may be sufficiently explained by the similar attempts of descartes, kant, hegel, and even of bacon himself, in modern philosophy. anticipations or divinations, or prophetic glimpses of truths whether concerning man or nature, seem to stand in the same relation to ancient philosophy which hypotheses bear to modern inductive science. these 'guesses at truth' were not made at random; they arose from a superficial impression of uniformities and first principles in nature which the genius of the greek, contemplating the expanse of heaven and earth, seemed to recognize in the distance. nor can we deny that in ancient times knowledge must have stood still, and the human mind been deprived of the very instruments of thought, if philosophy had been strictly confined to the results of experience. . plato supposes that when the tablet has been made blank the artist will fill in the lineaments of the ideal state. is this a pattern laid up in heaven, or mere vacancy on which he is supposed to gaze with wondering eye? the answer is, that such ideals are framed partly by the omission of particulars, partly by imagination perfecting the form which experience supplies (phaedo). plato represents these ideals in a figure as belonging to another world; and in modern times the idea will sometimes seem to precede, at other times to co-operate with the hand of the artist. as in science, so also in creative art, there is a synthetical as well as an analytical method. one man will have the whole in his mind before he begins; to another the processes of mind and hand will be simultaneous. . there is no difficulty in seeing that plato's divisions of knowledge are based, first, on the fundamental antithesis of sensible and intellectual which pervades the whole pre-socratic philosophy; in which is implied also the opposition of the permanent and transient, of the universal and particular. but the age of philosophy in which he lived seemed to require a further distinction;--numbers and figures were beginning to separate from ideas. the world could no longer regard justice as a cube, and was learning to see, though imperfectly, that the abstractions of sense were distinct from the abstractions of mind. between the eleatic being or essence and the shadows of phenomena, the pythagorean principle of number found a place, and was, as aristotle remarks, a conducting medium from one to the other. hence plato is led to introduce a third term which had not hitherto entered into the scheme of his philosophy. he had observed the use of mathematics in education; they were the best preparation for higher studies. the subjective relation between them further suggested an objective one; although the passage from one to the other is really imaginary (metaph.). for metaphysical and moral philosophy has no connexion with mathematics; number and figure are the abstractions of time and space, not the expressions of purely intellectual conceptions. when divested of metaphor, a straight line or a square has no more to do with right and justice than a crooked line with vice. the figurative association was mistaken for a real one; and thus the three latter divisions of the platonic proportion were constructed. there is more difficulty in comprehending how he arrived at the first term of the series, which is nowhere else mentioned, and has no reference to any other part of his system. nor indeed does the relation of shadows to objects correspond to the relation of numbers to ideas. probably plato has been led by the love of analogy (timaeus) to make four terms instead of three, although the objects perceived in both divisions of the lower sphere are equally objects of sense. he is also preparing the way, as his manner is, for the shadows of images at the beginning of the seventh book, and the imitation of an imitation in the tenth. the line may be regarded as reaching from unity to infinity, and is divided into two unequal parts, and subdivided into two more; each lower sphere is the multiplication of the preceding. of the four faculties, faith in the lower division has an intermediate position (cp. for the use of the word faith or belief, (greek), timaeus), contrasting equally with the vagueness of the perception of shadows (greek) and the higher certainty of understanding (greek) and reason (greek). the difference between understanding and mind or reason (greek) is analogous to the difference between acquiring knowledge in the parts and the contemplation of the whole. true knowledge is a whole, and is at rest; consistency and universality are the tests of truth. to this self-evidencing knowledge of the whole the faculty of mind is supposed to correspond. but there is a knowledge of the understanding which is incomplete and in motion always, because unable to rest in the subordinate ideas. those ideas are called both images and hypotheses--images because they are clothed in sense, hypotheses because they are assumptions only, until they are brought into connexion with the idea of good. the general meaning of the passage, 'noble, then, is the bond which links together sight...and of this kind i spoke as the intelligible...' so far as the thought contained in it admits of being translated into the terms of modern philosophy, may be described or explained as follows:--there is a truth, one and self-existent, to which by the help of a ladder let down from above, the human intelligence may ascend. this unity is like the sun in the heavens, the light by which all things are seen, the being by which they are created and sustained. it is the idea of good. and the steps of the ladder leading up to this highest or universal existence are the mathematical sciences, which also contain in themselves an element of the universal. these, too, we see in a new manner when we connect them with the idea of good. they then cease to be hypotheses or pictures, and become essential parts of a higher truth which is at once their first principle and their final cause. we cannot give any more precise meaning to this remarkable passage, but we may trace in it several rudiments or vestiges of thought which are common to us and to plato: such as ( ) the unity and correlation of the sciences, or rather of science, for in plato's time they were not yet parted off or distinguished; ( ) the existence of a divine power, or life or idea or cause or reason, not yet conceived or no longer conceived as in the timaeus and elsewhere under the form of a person; ( ) the recognition of the hypothetical and conditional character of the mathematical sciences, and in a measure of every science when isolated from the rest; ( ) the conviction of a truth which is invisible, and of a law, though hardly a law of nature, which permeates the intellectual rather than the visible world. the method of socrates is hesitating and tentative, awaiting the fuller explanation of the idea of good, and of the nature of dialectic in the seventh book. the imperfect intelligence of glaucon, and the reluctance of socrates to make a beginning, mark the difficulty of the subject. the allusion to theages' bridle, and to the internal oracle, or demonic sign, of socrates, which here, as always in plato, is only prohibitory; the remark that the salvation of any remnant of good in the present evil state of the world is due to god only; the reference to a future state of existence, which is unknown to glaucon in the tenth book, and in which the discussions of socrates and his disciples would be resumed; the surprise in the answers; the fanciful irony of socrates, where he pretends that he can only describe the strange position of the philosopher in a figure of speech; the original observation that the sophists, after all, are only the representatives and not the leaders of public opinion; the picture of the philosopher standing aside in the shower of sleet under a wall; the figure of 'the great beast' followed by the expression of good-will towards the common people who would not have rejected the philosopher if they had known him; the 'right noble thought' that the highest truths demand the greatest exactness; the hesitation of socrates in returning once more to his well-worn theme of the idea of good; the ludicrous earnestness of glaucon; the comparison of philosophy to a deserted maiden who marries beneath her--are some of the most interesting characteristics of the sixth book. yet a few more words may be added, on the old theme, which was so oft discussed in the socratic circle, of which we, like glaucon and adeimantus, would fain, if possible, have a clearer notion. like them, we are dissatisfied when we are told that the idea of good can only be revealed to a student of the mathematical sciences, and we are inclined to think that neither we nor they could have been led along that path to any satisfactory goal. for we have learned that differences of quantity cannot pass into differences of quality, and that the mathematical sciences can never rise above themselves into the sphere of our higher thoughts, although they may sometimes furnish symbols and expressions of them, and may train the mind in habits of abstraction and self-concentration. the illusion which was natural to an ancient philosopher has ceased to be an illusion to us. but if the process by which we are supposed to arrive at the idea of good be really imaginary, may not the idea itself be also a mere abstraction? we remark, first, that in all ages, and especially in primitive philosophy, words such as being, essence, unity, good, have exerted an extraordinary influence over the minds of men. the meagreness or negativeness of their content has been in an inverse ratio to their power. they have become the forms under which all things were comprehended. there was a need or instinct in the human soul which they satisfied; they were not ideas, but gods, and to this new mythology the men of a later generation began to attach the powers and associations of the elder deities. the idea of good is one of those sacred words or forms of thought, which were beginning to take the place of the old mythology. it meant unity, in which all time and all existence were gathered up. it was the truth of all things, and also the light in which they shone forth, and became evident to intelligences human and divine. it was the cause of all things, the power by which they were brought into being. it was the universal reason divested of a human personality. it was the life as well as the light of the world, all knowledge and all power were comprehended in it. the way to it was through the mathematical sciences, and these too were dependent on it. to ask whether god was the maker of it, or made by it, would be like asking whether god could be conceived apart from goodness, or goodness apart from god. the god of the timaeus is not really at variance with the idea of good; they are aspects of the same, differing only as the personal from the impersonal, or the masculine from the neuter, the one being the expression or language of mythology, the other of philosophy. this, or something like this, is the meaning of the idea of good as conceived by plato. ideas of number, order, harmony, development may also be said to enter into it. the paraphrase which has just been given of it goes beyond the actual words of plato. we have perhaps arrived at the stage of philosophy which enables us to understand what he is aiming at, better than he did himself. we are beginning to realize what he saw darkly and at a distance. but if he could have been told that this, or some conception of the same kind, but higher than this, was the truth at which he was aiming, and the need which he sought to supply, he would gladly have recognized that more was contained in his own thoughts than he himself knew. as his words are few and his manner reticent and tentative, so must the style of his interpreter be. we should not approach his meaning more nearly by attempting to define it further. in translating him into the language of modern thought, we might insensibly lose the spirit of ancient philosophy. it is remarkable that although plato speaks of the idea of good as the first principle of truth and being, it is nowhere mentioned in his writings except in this passage. nor did it retain any hold upon the minds of his disciples in a later generation; it was probably unintelligible to them. nor does the mention of it in aristotle appear to have any reference to this or any other passage in his extant writings. book vii. and now i will describe in a figure the enlightenment or unenlightenment of our nature:--imagine human beings living in an underground den which is open towards the light; they have been there from childhood, having their necks and legs chained, and can only see into the den. at a distance there is a fire, and between the fire and the prisoners a raised way, and a low wall is built along the way, like the screen over which marionette players show their puppets. behind the wall appear moving figures, who hold in their hands various works of art, and among them images of men and animals, wood and stone, and some of the passers-by are talking and others silent. 'a strange parable,' he said, 'and strange captives.' they are ourselves, i replied; and they see only the shadows of the images which the fire throws on the wall of the den; to these they give names, and if we add an echo which returns from the wall, the voices of the passengers will seem to proceed from the shadows. suppose now that you suddenly turn them round and make them look with pain and grief to themselves at the real images; will they believe them to be real? will not their eyes be dazzled, and will they not try to get away from the light to something which they are able to behold without blinking? and suppose further, that they are dragged up a steep and rugged ascent into the presence of the sun himself, will not their sight be darkened with the excess of light? some time will pass before they get the habit of perceiving at all; and at first they will be able to perceive only shadows and reflections in the water; then they will recognize the moon and the stars, and will at length behold the sun in his own proper place as he is. last of all they will conclude:--this is he who gives us the year and the seasons, and is the author of all that we see. how will they rejoice in passing from darkness to light! how worthless to them will seem the honours and glories of the den! but now imagine further, that they descend into their old habitations;--in that underground dwelling they will not see as well as their fellows, and will not be able to compete with them in the measurement of the shadows on the wall; there will be many jokes about the man who went on a visit to the sun and lost his eyes, and if they find anybody trying to set free and enlighten one of their number, they will put him to death, if they can catch him. now the cave or den is the world of sight, the fire is the sun, the way upwards is the way to knowledge, and in the world of knowledge the idea of good is last seen and with difficulty, but when seen is inferred to be the author of good and right--parent of the lord of light in this world, and of truth and understanding in the other. he who attains to the beatific vision is always going upwards; he is unwilling to descend into political assemblies and courts of law; for his eyes are apt to blink at the images or shadows of images which they behold in them--he cannot enter into the ideas of those who have never in their lives understood the relation of the shadow to the substance. but blindness is of two kinds, and may be caused either by passing out of darkness into light or out of light into darkness, and a man of sense will distinguish between them, and will not laugh equally at both of them, but the blindness which arises from fulness of light he will deem blessed, and pity the other; or if he laugh at the puzzled soul looking at the sun, he will have more reason to laugh than the inhabitants of the den at those who descend from above. there is a further lesson taught by this parable of ours. some persons fancy that instruction is like giving eyes to the blind, but we say that the faculty of sight was always there, and that the soul only requires to be turned round towards the light. and this is conversion; other virtues are almost like bodily habits, and may be acquired in the same manner, but intelligence has a diviner life, and is indestructible, turning either to good or evil according to the direction given. did you never observe how the mind of a clever rogue peers out of his eyes, and the more clearly he sees, the more evil he does? now if you take such an one, and cut away from him those leaden weights of pleasure and desire which bind his soul to earth, his intelligence will be turned round, and he will behold the truth as clearly as he now discerns his meaner ends. and have we not decided that our rulers must neither be so uneducated as to have no fixed rule of life, nor so over-educated as to be unwilling to leave their paradise for the business of the world? we must choose out therefore the natures who are most likely to ascend to the light and knowledge of the good; but we must not allow them to remain in the region of light; they must be forced down again among the captives in the den to partake of their labours and honours. 'will they not think this a hardship?' you should remember that our purpose in framing the state was not that our citizens should do what they like, but that they should serve the state for the common good of all. may we not fairly say to our philosopher,--friend, we do you no wrong; for in other states philosophy grows wild, and a wild plant owes nothing to the gardener, but you have been trained by us to be the rulers and kings of our hive, and therefore we must insist on your descending into the den. you must, each of you, take your turn, and become able to use your eyes in the dark, and with a little practice you will see far better than those who quarrel about the shadows, whose knowledge is a dream only, whilst yours is a waking reality. it may be that the saint or philosopher who is best fitted, may also be the least inclined to rule, but necessity is laid upon him, and he must no longer live in the heaven of ideas. and this will be the salvation of the state. for those who rule must not be those who are desirous to rule; and, if you can offer to our citizens a better life than that of rulers generally is, there will be a chance that the rich, not only in this world's goods, but in virtue and wisdom, may bear rule. and the only life which is better than the life of political ambition is that of philosophy, which is also the best preparation for the government of a state. then now comes the question,--how shall we create our rulers; what way is there from darkness to light? the change is effected by philosophy; it is not the turning over of an oyster-shell, but the conversion of a soul from night to day, from becoming to being. and what training will draw the soul upwards? our former education had two branches, gymnastic, which was occupied with the body, and music, the sister art, which infused a natural harmony into mind and literature; but neither of these sciences gave any promise of doing what we want. nothing remains to us but that universal or primary science of which all the arts and sciences are partakers, i mean number or calculation. 'very true.' including the art of war? 'yes, certainly.' then there is something ludicrous about palamedes in the tragedy, coming in and saying that he had invented number, and had counted the ranks and set them in order. for if agamemnon could not count his feet (and without number how could he?) he must have been a pretty sort of general indeed. no man should be a soldier who cannot count, and indeed he is hardly to be called a man. but i am not speaking of these practical applications of arithmetic, for number, in my view, is rather to be regarded as a conductor to thought and being. i will explain what i mean by the last expression:--things sensible are of two kinds; the one class invite or stimulate the mind, while in the other the mind acquiesces. now the stimulating class are the things which suggest contrast and relation. for example, suppose that i hold up to the eyes three fingers--a fore finger, a middle finger, a little finger--the sight equally recognizes all three fingers, but without number cannot further distinguish them. or again, suppose two objects to be relatively great and small, these ideas of greatness and smallness are supplied not by the sense, but by the mind. and the perception of their contrast or relation quickens and sets in motion the mind, which is puzzled by the confused intimations of sense, and has recourse to number in order to find out whether the things indicated are one or more than one. number replies that they are two and not one, and are to be distinguished from one another. again, the sight beholds great and small, but only in a confused chaos, and not until they are distinguished does the question arise of their respective natures; we are thus led on to the distinction between the visible and intelligible. that was what i meant when i spoke of stimulants to the intellect; i was thinking of the contradictions which arise in perception. the idea of unity, for example, like that of a finger, does not arouse thought unless involving some conception of plurality; but when the one is also the opposite of one, the contradiction gives rise to reflection; an example of this is afforded by any object of sight. all number has also an elevating effect; it raises the mind out of the foam and flux of generation to the contemplation of being, having lesser military and retail uses also. the retail use is not required by us; but as our guardian is to be a soldier as well as a philosopher, the military one may be retained. and to our higher purpose no science can be better adapted; but it must be pursued in the spirit of a philosopher, not of a shopkeeper. it is concerned, not with visible objects, but with abstract truth; for numbers are pure abstractions--the true arithmetician indignantly denies that his unit is capable of division. when you divide, he insists that you are only multiplying; his 'one' is not material or resolvable into fractions, but an unvarying and absolute equality; and this proves the purely intellectual character of his study. note also the great power which arithmetic has of sharpening the wits; no other discipline is equally severe, or an equal test of general ability, or equally improving to a stupid person. let our second branch of education be geometry. 'i can easily see,' replied glaucon, 'that the skill of the general will be doubled by his knowledge of geometry.' that is a small matter; the use of geometry, to which i refer, is the assistance given by it in the contemplation of the idea of good, and the compelling the mind to look at true being, and not at generation only. yet the present mode of pursuing these studies, as any one who is the least of a mathematician is aware, is mean and ridiculous; they are made to look downwards to the arts, and not upwards to eternal existence. the geometer is always talking of squaring, subtending, apposing, as if he had in view action; whereas knowledge is the real object of the study. it should elevate the soul, and create the mind of philosophy; it should raise up what has fallen down, not to speak of lesser uses in war and military tactics, and in the improvement of the faculties. shall we propose, as a third branch of our education, astronomy? 'very good,' replied glaucon; 'the knowledge of the heavens is necessary at once for husbandry, navigation, military tactics.' i like your way of giving useful reasons for everything in order to make friends of the world. and there is a difficulty in proving to mankind that education is not only useful information but a purification of the eye of the soul, which is better than the bodily eye, for by this alone is truth seen. now, will you appeal to mankind in general or to the philosopher? or would you prefer to look to yourself only? 'every man is his own best friend.' then take a step backward, for we are out of order, and insert the third dimension which is of solids, after the second which is of planes, and then you may proceed to solids in motion. but solid geometry is not popular and has not the patronage of the state, nor is the use of it fully recognized; the difficulty is great, and the votaries of the study are conceited and impatient. still the charm of the pursuit wins upon men, and, if government would lend a little assistance, there might be great progress made. 'very true,' replied glaucon; 'but do i understand you now to begin with plane geometry, and to place next geometry of solids, and thirdly, astronomy, or the motion of solids?' yes, i said; my hastiness has only hindered us. 'very good, and now let us proceed to astronomy, about which i am willing to speak in your lofty strain. no one can fail to see that the contemplation of the heavens draws the soul upwards.' i am an exception, then; astronomy as studied at present appears to me to draw the soul not upwards, but downwards. star-gazing is just looking up at the ceiling--no better; a man may lie on his back on land or on water--he may look up or look down, but there is no science in that. the vision of knowledge of which i speak is seen not with the eyes, but with the mind. all the magnificence of the heavens is but the embroidery of a copy which falls far short of the divine original, and teaches nothing about the absolute harmonies or motions of things. their beauty is like the beauty of figures drawn by the hand of daedalus or any other great artist, which may be used for illustration, but no mathematician would seek to obtain from them true conceptions of equality or numerical relations. how ridiculous then to look for these in the map of the heavens, in which the imperfection of matter comes in everywhere as a disturbing element, marring the symmetry of day and night, of months and years, of the sun and stars in their courses. only by problems can we place astronomy on a truly scientific basis. let the heavens alone, and exert the intellect. still, mathematics admit of other applications, as the pythagoreans say, and we agree. there is a sister science of harmonical motion, adapted to the ear as astronomy is to the eye, and there may be other applications also. let us inquire of the pythagoreans about them, not forgetting that we have an aim higher than theirs, which is the relation of these sciences to the idea of good. the error which pervades astronomy also pervades harmonics. the musicians put their ears in the place of their minds. 'yes,' replied glaucon, 'i like to see them laying their ears alongside of their neighbours' faces--some saying, "that's a new note," others declaring that the two notes are the same.' yes, i said; but you mean the empirics who are always twisting and torturing the strings of the lyre, and quarrelling about the tempers of the strings; i am referring rather to the pythagorean harmonists, who are almost equally in error. for they investigate only the numbers of the consonances which are heard, and ascend no higher,--of the true numerical harmony which is unheard, and is only to be found in problems, they have not even a conception. 'that last,' he said, 'must be a marvellous thing.' a thing, i replied, which is only useful if pursued with a view to the good. all these sciences are the prelude of the strain, and are profitable if they are regarded in their natural relations to one another. 'i dare say, socrates,' said glaucon; 'but such a study will be an endless business.' what study do you mean--of the prelude, or what? for all these things are only the prelude, and you surely do not suppose that a mere mathematician is also a dialectician? 'certainly not. i have hardly ever known a mathematician who could reason.' and yet, glaucon, is not true reasoning that hymn of dialectic which is the music of the intellectual world, and which was by us compared to the effort of sight, when from beholding the shadows on the wall we arrived at last at the images which gave the shadows? even so the dialectical faculty withdrawing from sense arrives by the pure intellect at the contemplation of the idea of good, and never rests but at the very end of the intellectual world. and the royal road out of the cave into the light, and the blinking of the eyes at the sun and turning to contemplate the shadows of reality, not the shadows of an image only--this progress and gradual acquisition of a new faculty of sight by the help of the mathematical sciences, is the elevation of the soul to the contemplation of the highest ideal of being. 'so far, i agree with you. but now, leaving the prelude, let us proceed to the hymn. what, then, is the nature of dialectic, and what are the paths which lead thither?' dear glaucon, you cannot follow me here. there can be no revelation of the absolute truth to one who has not been disciplined in the previous sciences. but that there is a science of absolute truth, which is attained in some way very different from those now practised, i am confident. for all other arts or sciences are relative to human needs and opinions; and the mathematical sciences are but a dream or hypothesis of true being, and never analyse their own principles. dialectic alone rises to the principle which is above hypotheses, converting and gently leading the eye of the soul out of the barbarous slough of ignorance into the light of the upper world, with the help of the sciences which we have been describing--sciences, as they are often termed, although they require some other name, implying greater clearness than opinion and less clearness than science, and this in our previous sketch was understanding. and so we get four names--two for intellect, and two for opinion,--reason or mind, understanding, faith, perception of shadows--which make a proportion-- being:becoming::intellect:opinion--and science:belief::understanding: perception of shadows. dialectic may be further described as that science which defines and explains the essence or being of each nature, which distinguishes and abstracts the good, and is ready to do battle against all opponents in the cause of good. to him who is not a dialectician life is but a sleepy dream; and many a man is in his grave before his is well waked up. and would you have the future rulers of your ideal state intelligent beings, or stupid as posts? 'certainly not the latter.' then you must train them in dialectic, which will teach them to ask and answer questions, and is the coping-stone of the sciences. i dare say that you have not forgotten how our rulers were chosen; and the process of selection may be carried a step further:--as before, they must be constant and valiant, good-looking, and of noble manners, but now they must also have natural ability which education will improve; that is to say, they must be quick at learning, capable of mental toil, retentive, solid, diligent natures, who combine intellectual with moral virtues; not lame and one-sided, diligent in bodily exercise and indolent in mind, or conversely; not a maimed soul, which hates falsehood and yet unintentionally is always wallowing in the mire of ignorance; not a bastard or feeble person, but sound in wind and limb, and in perfect condition for the great gymnastic trial of the mind. justice herself can find no fault with natures such as these; and they will be the saviours of our state; disciples of another sort would only make philosophy more ridiculous than she is at present. forgive my enthusiasm; i am becoming excited; but when i see her trampled underfoot, i am angry at the authors of her disgrace. 'i did not notice that you were more excited than you ought to have been.' but i felt that i was. now do not let us forget another point in the selection of our disciples--that they must be young and not old. for solon is mistaken in saying that an old man can be always learning; youth is the time of study, and here we must remember that the mind is free and dainty, and, unlike the body, must not be made to work against the grain. learning should be at first a sort of play, in which the natural bent is detected. as in training them for war, the young dogs should at first only taste blood; but when the necessary gymnastics are over which during two or three years divide life between sleep and bodily exercise, then the education of the soul will become a more serious matter. at twenty years of age, a selection must be made of the more promising disciples, with whom a new epoch of education will begin. the sciences which they have hitherto learned in fragments will now be brought into relation with each other and with true being; for the power of combining them is the test of speculative and dialectical ability. and afterwards at thirty a further selection shall be made of those who are able to withdraw from the world of sense into the abstraction of ideas. but at this point, judging from present experience, there is a danger that dialectic may be the source of many evils. the danger may be illustrated by a parallel case:--imagine a person who has been brought up in wealth and luxury amid a crowd of flatterers, and who is suddenly informed that he is a supposititious son. he has hitherto honoured his reputed parents and disregarded the flatterers, and now he does the reverse. this is just what happens with a man's principles. there are certain doctrines which he learnt at home and which exercised a parental authority over him. presently he finds that imputations are cast upon them; a troublesome querist comes and asks, 'what is the just and good?' or proves that virtue is vice and vice virtue, and his mind becomes unsettled, and he ceases to love, honour, and obey them as he has hitherto done. he is seduced into the life of pleasure, and becomes a lawless person and a rogue. the case of such speculators is very pitiable, and, in order that our thirty years' old pupils may not require this pity, let us take every possible care that young persons do not study philosophy too early. for a young man is a sort of puppy who only plays with an argument; and is reasoned into and out of his opinions every day; he soon begins to believe nothing, and brings himself and philosophy into discredit. a man of thirty does not run on in this way; he will argue and not merely contradict, and adds new honour to philosophy by the sobriety of his conduct. what time shall we allow for this second gymnastic training of the soul?--say, twice the time required for the gymnastics of the body; six, or perhaps five years, to commence at thirty, and then for fifteen years let the student go down into the den, and command armies, and gain experience of life. at fifty let him return to the end of all things, and have his eyes uplifted to the idea of good, and order his life after that pattern; if necessary, taking his turn at the helm of state, and training up others to be his successors. when his time comes he shall depart in peace to the islands of the blest. he shall be honoured with sacrifices, and receive such worship as the pythian oracle approves. 'you are a statuary, socrates, and have made a perfect image of our governors.' yes, and of our governesses, for the women will share in all things with the men. and you will admit that our state is not a mere aspiration, but may really come into being when there shall arise philosopher-kings, one or more, who will despise earthly vanities, and will be the servants of justice only. 'and how will they begin their work?' their first act will be to send away into the country all those who are more than ten years of age, and to proceed with those who are left... at the commencement of the sixth book, plato anticipated his explanation of the relation of the philosopher to the world in an allegory, in this, as in other passages, following the order which he prescribes in education, and proceeding from the concrete to the abstract. at the commencement of book vii, under the figure of a cave having an opening towards a fire and a way upwards to the true light, he returns to view the divisions of knowledge, exhibiting familiarly, as in a picture, the result which had been hardly won by a great effort of thought in the previous discussion; at the same time casting a glance onward at the dialectical process, which is represented by the way leading from darkness to light. the shadows, the images, the reflection of the sun and stars in the water, the stars and sun themselves, severally correspond,--the first, to the realm of fancy and poetry,--the second, to the world of sense,--the third, to the abstractions or universals of sense, of which the mathematical sciences furnish the type,--the fourth and last to the same abstractions, when seen in the unity of the idea, from which they derive a new meaning and power. the true dialectical process begins with the contemplation of the real stars, and not mere reflections of them, and ends with the recognition of the sun, or idea of good, as the parent not only of light but of warmth and growth. to the divisions of knowledge the stages of education partly answer:--first, there is the early education of childhood and youth in the fancies of the poets, and in the laws and customs of the state;--then there is the training of the body to be a warrior athlete, and a good servant of the mind;--and thirdly, after an interval follows the education of later life, which begins with mathematics and proceeds to philosophy in general. there seem to be two great aims in the philosophy of plato,--first, to realize abstractions; secondly, to connect them. according to him, the true education is that which draws men from becoming to being, and to a comprehensive survey of all being. he desires to develop in the human mind the faculty of seeing the universal in all things; until at last the particulars of sense drop away and the universal alone remains. he then seeks to combine the universals which he has disengaged from sense, not perceiving that the correlation of them has no other basis but the common use of language. he never understands that abstractions, as hegel says, are 'mere abstractions'--of use when employed in the arrangement of facts, but adding nothing to the sum of knowledge when pursued apart from them, or with reference to an imaginary idea of good. still the exercise of the faculty of abstraction apart from facts has enlarged the mind, and played a great part in the education of the human race. plato appreciated the value of this faculty, and saw that it might be quickened by the study of number and relation. all things in which there is opposition or proportion are suggestive of reflection. the mere impression of sense evokes no power of thought or of mind, but when sensible objects ask to be compared and distinguished, then philosophy begins. the science of arithmetic first suggests such distinctions. the follow in order the other sciences of plain and solid geometry, and of solids in motion, one branch of which is astronomy or the harmony of the spheres,--to this is appended the sister science of the harmony of sounds. plato seems also to hint at the possibility of other applications of arithmetical or mathematical proportions, such as we employ in chemistry and natural philosophy, such as the pythagoreans and even aristotle make use of in ethics and politics, e.g. his distinction between arithmetical and geometrical proportion in the ethics (book v), or between numerical and proportional equality in the politics. the modern mathematician will readily sympathise with plato's delight in the properties of pure mathematics. he will not be disinclined to say with him:--let alone the heavens, and study the beauties of number and figure in themselves. he too will be apt to depreciate their application to the arts. he will observe that plato has a conception of geometry, in which figures are to be dispensed with; thus in a distant and shadowy way seeming to anticipate the possibility of working geometrical problems by a more general mode of analysis. he will remark with interest on the backward state of solid geometry, which, alas! was not encouraged by the aid of the state in the age of plato; and he will recognize the grasp of plato's mind in his ability to conceive of one science of solids in motion including the earth as well as the heavens,--not forgetting to notice the intimation to which allusion has been already made, that besides astronomy and harmonics the science of solids in motion may have other applications. still more will he be struck with the comprehensiveness of view which led plato, at a time when these sciences hardly existed, to say that they must be studied in relation to one another, and to the idea of good, or common principle of truth and being. but he will also see (and perhaps without surprise) that in that stage of physical and mathematical knowledge, plato has fallen into the error of supposing that he can construct the heavens a priori by mathematical problems, and determine the principles of harmony irrespective of the adaptation of sounds to the human ear. the illusion was a natural one in that age and country. the simplicity and certainty of astronomy and harmonics seemed to contrast with the variation and complexity of the world of sense; hence the circumstance that there was some elementary basis of fact, some measurement of distance or time or vibrations on which they must ultimately rest, was overlooked by him. the modern predecessors of newton fell into errors equally great; and plato can hardly be said to have been very far wrong, or may even claim a sort of prophetic insight into the subject, when we consider that the greater part of astronomy at the present day consists of abstract dynamics, by the help of which most astronomical discoveries have been made. the metaphysical philosopher from his point of view recognizes mathematics as an instrument of education,--which strengthens the power of attention, developes the sense of order and the faculty of construction, and enables the mind to grasp under simple formulae the quantitative differences of physical phenomena. but while acknowledging their value in education, he sees also that they have no connexion with our higher moral and intellectual ideas. in the attempt which plato makes to connect them, we easily trace the influences of ancient pythagorean notions. there is no reason to suppose that he is speaking of the ideal numbers; but he is describing numbers which are pure abstractions, to which he assigns a real and separate existence, which, as 'the teachers of the art' (meaning probably the pythagoreans) would have affirmed, repel all attempts at subdivision, and in which unity and every other number are conceived of as absolute. the truth and certainty of numbers, when thus disengaged from phenomena, gave them a kind of sacredness in the eyes of an ancient philosopher. nor is it easy to say how far ideas of order and fixedness may have had a moral and elevating influence on the minds of men, 'who,' in the words of the timaeus, 'might learn to regulate their erring lives according to them.' it is worthy of remark that the old pythagorean ethical symbols still exist as figures of speech among ourselves. and those who in modern times see the world pervaded by universal law, may also see an anticipation of this last word of modern philosophy in the platonic idea of good, which is the source and measure of all things, and yet only an abstraction (philebus). two passages seem to require more particular explanations. first, that which relates to the analysis of vision. the difficulty in this passage may be explained, like many others, from differences in the modes of conception prevailing among ancient and modern thinkers. to us, the perceptions of sense are inseparable from the act of the mind which accompanies them. the consciousness of form, colour, distance, is indistinguishable from the simple sensation, which is the medium of them. whereas to plato sense is the heraclitean flux of sense, not the vision of objects in the order in which they actually present themselves to the experienced sight, but as they may be imagined to appear confused and blurred to the half-awakened eye of the infant. the first action of the mind is aroused by the attempt to set in order this chaos, and the reason is required to frame distinct conceptions under which the confused impressions of sense may be arranged. hence arises the question, 'what is great, what is small?' and thus begins the distinction of the visible and the intelligible. the second difficulty relates to plato's conception of harmonics. three classes of harmonists are distinguished by him:--first, the pythagoreans, whom he proposes to consult as in the previous discussion on music he was to consult damon--they are acknowledged to be masters in the art, but are altogether deficient in the knowledge of its higher import and relation to the good; secondly, the mere empirics, whom glaucon appears to confuse with them, and whom both he and socrates ludicrously describe as experimenting by mere auscultation on the intervals of sounds. both of these fall short in different degrees of the platonic idea of harmony, which must be studied in a purely abstract way, first by the method of problems, and secondly as a part of universal knowledge in relation to the idea of good. the allegory has a political as well as a philosophical meaning. the den or cave represents the narrow sphere of politics or law (compare the description of the philosopher and lawyer in the theaetetus), and the light of the eternal ideas is supposed to exercise a disturbing influence on the minds of those who return to this lower world. in other words, their principles are too wide for practical application; they are looking far away into the past and future, when their business is with the present. the ideal is not easily reduced to the conditions of actual life, and may often be at variance with them. and at first, those who return are unable to compete with the inhabitants of the den in the measurement of the shadows, and are derided and persecuted by them; but after a while they see the things below in far truer proportions than those who have never ascended into the upper world. the difference between the politician turned into a philosopher and the philosopher turned into a politician, is symbolized by the two kinds of disordered eyesight, the one which is experienced by the captive who is transferred from darkness to day, the other, of the heavenly messenger who voluntarily for the good of his fellow-men descends into the den. in what way the brighter light is to dawn on the inhabitants of the lower world, or how the idea of good is to become the guiding principle of politics, is left unexplained by plato. like the nature and divisions of dialectic, of which glaucon impatiently demands to be informed, perhaps he would have said that the explanation could not be given except to a disciple of the previous sciences. (symposium.) many illustrations of this part of the republic may be found in modern politics and in daily life. for among ourselves, too, there have been two sorts of politicians or statesmen, whose eyesight has become disordered in two different ways. first, there have been great men who, in the language of burke, 'have been too much given to general maxims,' who, like j.s. mill or burke himself, have been theorists or philosophers before they were politicians, or who, having been students of history, have allowed some great historical parallel, such as the english revolution of , or possibly athenian democracy or roman imperialism, to be the medium through which they viewed contemporary events. or perhaps the long projecting shadow of some existing institution may have darkened their vision. the church of the future, the commonwealth of the future, the society of the future, have so absorbed their minds, that they are unable to see in their true proportions the politics of to-day. they have been intoxicated with great ideas, such as liberty, or equality, or the greatest happiness of the greatest number, or the brotherhood of humanity, and they no longer care to consider how these ideas must be limited in practice or harmonized with the conditions of human life. they are full of light, but the light to them has become only a sort of luminous mist or blindness. almost every one has known some enthusiastic half-educated person, who sees everything at false distances, and in erroneous proportions. with this disorder of eyesight may be contrasted another--of those who see not far into the distance, but what is near only; who have been engaged all their lives in a trade or a profession; who are limited to a set or sect of their own. men of this kind have no universal except their own interests or the interests of their class, no principle but the opinion of persons like themselves, no knowledge of affairs beyond what they pick up in the streets or at their club. suppose them to be sent into a larger world, to undertake some higher calling, from being tradesmen to turn generals or politicians, from being schoolmasters to become philosophers:--or imagine them on a sudden to receive an inward light which reveals to them for the first time in their lives a higher idea of god and the existence of a spiritual world, by this sudden conversion or change is not their daily life likely to be upset; and on the other hand will not many of their old prejudices and narrownesses still adhere to them long after they have begun to take a more comprehensive view of human things? from familiar examples like these we may learn what plato meant by the eyesight which is liable to two kinds of disorders. nor have we any difficulty in drawing a parallel between the young athenian in the fifth century before christ who became unsettled by new ideas, and the student of a modern university who has been the subject of a similar 'aufklarung.' we too observe that when young men begin to criticise customary beliefs, or to analyse the constitution of human nature, they are apt to lose hold of solid principle (greek). they are like trees which have been frequently transplanted. the earth about them is loose, and they have no roots reaching far into the soil. they 'light upon every flower,' following their own wayward wills, or because the wind blows them. they catch opinions, as diseases are caught--when they are in the air. borne hither and thither, 'they speedily fall into beliefs' the opposite of those in which they were brought up. they hardly retain the distinction of right and wrong; they seem to think one thing as good as another. they suppose themselves to be searching after truth when they are playing the game of 'follow my leader.' they fall in love 'at first sight' with paradoxes respecting morality, some fancy about art, some novelty or eccentricity in religion, and like lovers they are so absorbed for a time in their new notion that they can think of nothing else. the resolution of some philosophical or theological question seems to them more interesting and important than any substantial knowledge of literature or science or even than a good life. like the youth in the philebus, they are ready to discourse to any one about a new philosophy. they are generally the disciples of some eminent professor or sophist, whom they rather imitate than understand. they may be counted happy if in later years they retain some of the simple truths which they acquired in early education, and which they may, perhaps, find to be worth all the rest. such is the picture which plato draws and which we only reproduce, partly in his own words, of the dangers which beset youth in times of transition, when old opinions are fading away and the new are not yet firmly established. their condition is ingeniously compared by him to that of a supposititious son, who has made the discovery that his reputed parents are not his real ones, and, in consequence, they have lost their authority over him. the distinction between the mathematician and the dialectician is also noticeable. plato is very well aware that the faculty of the mathematician is quite distinct from the higher philosophical sense which recognizes and combines first principles. the contempt which he expresses for distinctions of words, the danger of involuntary falsehood, the apology which socrates makes for his earnestness of speech, are highly characteristic of the platonic style and mode of thought. the quaint notion that if palamedes was the inventor of number agamemnon could not have counted his feet; the art by which we are made to believe that this state of ours is not a dream only; the gravity with which the first step is taken in the actual creation of the state, namely, the sending out of the city all who had arrived at ten years of age, in order to expedite the business of education by a generation, are also truly platonic. (for the last, compare the passage at the end of the third book, in which he expects the lie about the earthborn men to be believed in the second generation.) book viii. and so we have arrived at the conclusion, that in the perfect state wives and children are to be in common; and the education and pursuits of men and women, both in war and peace, are to be common, and kings are to be philosophers and warriors, and the soldiers of the state are to live together, having all things in common; and they are to be warrior athletes, receiving no pay but only their food, from the other citizens. now let us return to the point at which we digressed. 'that is easily done,' he replied: 'you were speaking of the state which you had constructed, and of the individual who answered to this, both of whom you affirmed to be good; and you said that of inferior states there were four forms and four individuals corresponding to them, which although deficient in various degrees, were all of them worth inspecting with a view to determining the relative happiness or misery of the best or worst man. then polemarchus and adeimantus interrupted you, and this led to another argument,--and so here we are.' suppose that we put ourselves again in the same position, and do you repeat your question. 'i should like to know of what constitutions you were speaking?' besides the perfect state there are only four of any note in hellas:--first, the famous lacedaemonian or cretan commonwealth; secondly, oligarchy, a state full of evils; thirdly, democracy, which follows next in order; fourthly, tyranny, which is the disease or death of all government. now, states are not made of 'oak and rock,' but of flesh and blood; and therefore as there are five states there must be five human natures in individuals, which correspond to them. and first, there is the ambitious nature, which answers to the lacedaemonian state; secondly, the oligarchical nature; thirdly, the democratical; and fourthly, the tyrannical. this last will have to be compared with the perfectly just, which is the fifth, that we may know which is the happier, and then we shall be able to determine whether the argument of thrasymachus or our own is the more convincing. and as before we began with the state and went on to the individual, so now, beginning with timocracy, let us go on to the timocratical man, and then proceed to the other forms of government, and the individuals who answer to them. but how did timocracy arise out of the perfect state? plainly, like all changes of government, from division in the rulers. but whence came division? 'sing, heavenly muses,' as homer says;--let them condescend to answer us, as if we were children, to whom they put on a solemn face in jest. 'and what will they say?' they will say that human things are fated to decay, and even the perfect state will not escape from this law of destiny, when 'the wheel comes full circle' in a period short or long. plants or animals have times of fertility and sterility, which the intelligence of rulers because alloyed by sense will not enable them to ascertain, and children will be born out of season. for whereas divine creations are in a perfect cycle or number, the human creation is in a number which declines from perfection, and has four terms and three intervals of numbers, increasing, waning, assimilating, dissimilating, and yet perfectly commensurate with each other. the base of the number with a fourth added (or which is : ), multiplied by five and cubed, gives two harmonies:--the first a square number, which is a hundred times the base (or a hundred times a hundred); the second, an oblong, being a hundred squares of the rational diameter of a figure the side of which is five, subtracting one from each square or two perfect squares from all, and adding a hundred cubes of three. this entire number is geometrical and contains the rule or law of generation. when this law is neglected marriages will be unpropitious; the inferior offspring who are then born will in time become the rulers; the state will decline, and education fall into decay; gymnastic will be preferred to music, and the gold and silver and brass and iron will form a chaotic mass--thus division will arise. such is the muses' answer to our question. 'and a true answer, of course:--but what more have they to say?' they say that the two races, the iron and brass, and the silver and gold, will draw the state different ways;--the one will take to trade and moneymaking, and the others, having the true riches and not caring for money, will resist them: the contest will end in a compromise; they will agree to have private property, and will enslave their fellow-citizens who were once their friends and nurturers. but they will retain their warlike character, and will be chiefly occupied in fighting and exercising rule. thus arises timocracy, which is intermediate between aristocracy and oligarchy. the new form of government resembles the ideal in obedience to rulers and contempt for trade, and having common meals, and in devotion to warlike and gymnastic exercises. but corruption has crept into philosophy, and simplicity of character, which was once her note, is now looked for only in the military class. arts of war begin to prevail over arts of peace; the ruler is no longer a philosopher; as in oligarchies, there springs up among them an extravagant love of gain--get another man's and save your own, is their principle; and they have dark places in which they hoard their gold and silver, for the use of their women and others; they take their pleasures by stealth, like boys who are running away from their father--the law; and their education is not inspired by the muse, but imposed by the strong arm of power. the leading characteristic of this state is party spirit and ambition. and what manner of man answers to such a state? 'in love of contention,' replied adeimantus, 'he will be like our friend glaucon.' in that respect, perhaps, but not in others. he is self-asserting and ill-educated, yet fond of literature, although not himself a speaker,--fierce with slaves, but obedient to rulers, a lover of power and honour, which he hopes to gain by deeds of arms,--fond, too, of gymnastics and of hunting. as he advances in years he grows avaricious, for he has lost philosophy, which is the only saviour and guardian of men. his origin is as follows:--his father is a good man dwelling in an ill-ordered state, who has retired from politics in order that he may lead a quiet life. his mother is angry at her loss of precedence among other women; she is disgusted at her husband's selfishness, and she expatiates to her son on the unmanliness and indolence of his father. the old family servant takes up the tale, and says to the youth:--'when you grow up you must be more of a man than your father.' all the world are agreed that he who minds his own business is an idiot, while a busybody is highly honoured and esteemed. the young man compares this spirit with his father's words and ways, and as he is naturally well disposed, although he has suffered from evil influences, he rests at a middle point and becomes ambitious and a lover of honour. and now let us set another city over against another man. the next form of government is oligarchy, in which the rule is of the rich only; nor is it difficult to see how such a state arises. the decline begins with the possession of gold and silver; illegal modes of expenditure are invented; one draws another on, and the multitude are infected; riches outweigh virtue; lovers of money take the place of lovers of honour; misers of politicians; and, in time, political privileges are confined by law to the rich, who do not shrink from violence in order to effect their purposes. thus much of the origin,--let us next consider the evils of oligarchy. would a man who wanted to be safe on a voyage take a bad pilot because he was rich, or refuse a good one because he was poor? and does not the analogy apply still more to the state? and there are yet greater evils: two nations are struggling together in one--the rich and the poor; and the rich dare not put arms into the hands of the poor, and are unwilling to pay for defenders out of their own money. and have we not already condemned that state in which the same persons are warriors as well as shopkeepers? the greatest evil of all is that a man may sell his property and have no place in the state; while there is one class which has enormous wealth, the other is entirely destitute. but observe that these destitutes had not really any more of the governing nature in them when they were rich than now that they are poor; they were miserable spendthrifts always. they are the drones of the hive; only whereas the actual drone is unprovided by nature with a sting, the two-legged things whom we call drones are some of them without stings and some of them have dreadful stings; in other words, there are paupers and there are rogues. these are never far apart; and in oligarchical cities, where nearly everybody is a pauper who is not a ruler, you will find abundance of both. and this evil state of society originates in bad education and bad government. like state, like man,--the change in the latter begins with the representative of timocracy; he walks at first in the ways of his father, who may have been a statesman, or general, perhaps; and presently he sees him 'fallen from his high estate,' the victim of informers, dying in prison or exile, or by the hand of the executioner. the lesson which he thus receives, makes him cautious; he leaves politics, represses his pride, and saves pence. avarice is enthroned as his bosom's lord, and assumes the style of the great king; the rational and spirited elements sit humbly on the ground at either side, the one immersed in calculation, the other absorbed in the admiration of wealth. the love of honour turns to love of money; the conversion is instantaneous. the man is mean, saving, toiling, the slave of one passion which is the master of the rest: is he not the very image of the state? he has had no education, or he would never have allowed the blind god of riches to lead the dance within him. and being uneducated he will have many slavish desires, some beggarly, some knavish, breeding in his soul. if he is the trustee of an orphan, and has the power to defraud, he will soon prove that he is not without the will, and that his passions are only restrained by fear and not by reason. hence he leads a divided existence; in which the better desires mostly prevail. but when he is contending for prizes and other distinctions, he is afraid to incur a loss which is to be repaid only by barren honour; in time of war he fights with a small part of his resources, and usually keeps his money and loses the victory. next comes democracy and the democratic man, out of oligarchy and the oligarchical man. insatiable avarice is the ruling passion of an oligarchy; and they encourage expensive habits in order that they may gain by the ruin of extravagant youth. thus men of family often lose their property or rights of citizenship; but they remain in the city, full of hatred against the new owners of their estates and ripe for revolution. the usurer with stooping walk pretends not to see them; he passes by, and leaves his sting--that is, his money--in some other victim; and many a man has to pay the parent or principal sum multiplied into a family of children, and is reduced into a state of dronage by him. the only way of diminishing the evil is either to limit a man in his use of his property, or to insist that he shall lend at his own risk. but the ruling class do not want remedies; they care only for money, and are as careless of virtue as the poorest of the citizens. now there are occasions on which the governors and the governed meet together,--at festivals, on a journey, voyaging or fighting. the sturdy pauper finds that in the hour of danger he is not despised; he sees the rich man puffing and panting, and draws the conclusion which he privately imparts to his companions,--'that our people are not good for much;' and as a sickly frame is made ill by a mere touch from without, or sometimes without external impulse is ready to fall to pieces of itself, so from the least cause, or with none at all, the city falls ill and fights a battle for life or death. and democracy comes into power when the poor are the victors, killing some and exiling some, and giving equal shares in the government to all the rest. the manner of life in such a state is that of democrats; there is freedom and plainness of speech, and every man does what is right in his own eyes, and has his own way of life. hence arise the most various developments of character; the state is like a piece of embroidery of which the colours and figures are the manners of men, and there are many who, like women and children, prefer this variety to real beauty and excellence. the state is not one but many, like a bazaar at which you can buy anything. the great charm is, that you may do as you like; you may govern if you like, let it alone if you like; go to war and make peace if you feel disposed, and all quite irrespective of anybody else. when you condemn men to death they remain alive all the same; a gentleman is desired to go into exile, and he stalks about the streets like a hero; and nobody sees him or cares for him. observe, too, how grandly democracy sets her foot upon all our fine theories of education,--how little she cares for the training of her statesmen! the only qualification which she demands is the profession of patriotism. such is democracy;--a pleasing, lawless, various sort of government, distributing equality to equals and unequals alike. let us now inspect the individual democrat; and first, as in the case of the state, we will trace his antecedents. he is the son of a miserly oligarch, and has been taught by him to restrain the love of unnecessary pleasures. perhaps i ought to explain this latter term:--necessary pleasures are those which are good, and which we cannot do without; unnecessary pleasures are those which do no good, and of which the desire might be eradicated by early training. for example, the pleasures of eating and drinking are necessary and healthy, up to a certain point; beyond that point they are alike hurtful to body and mind, and the excess may be avoided. when in excess, they may be rightly called expensive pleasures, in opposition to the useful ones. and the drone, as we called him, is the slave of these unnecessary pleasures and desires, whereas the miserly oligarch is subject only to the necessary. the oligarch changes into the democrat in the following manner:--the youth who has had a miserly bringing up, gets a taste of the drone's honey; he meets with wild companions, who introduce him to every new pleasure. as in the state, so in the individual, there are allies on both sides, temptations from without and passions from within; there is reason also and external influences of parents and friends in alliance with the oligarchical principle; and the two factions are in violent conflict with one another. sometimes the party of order prevails, but then again new desires and new disorders arise, and the whole mob of passions gets possession of the acropolis, that is to say, the soul, which they find void and unguarded by true words and works. falsehoods and illusions ascend to take their place; the prodigal goes back into the country of the lotophagi or drones, and openly dwells there. and if any offer of alliance or parley of individual elders comes from home, the false spirits shut the gates of the castle and permit no one to enter,--there is a battle, and they gain the victory; and straightway making alliance with the desires, they banish modesty, which they call folly, and send temperance over the border. when the house has been swept and garnished, they dress up the exiled vices, and, crowning them with garlands, bring them back under new names. insolence they call good breeding, anarchy freedom, waste magnificence, impudence courage. such is the process by which the youth passes from the necessary pleasures to the unnecessary. after a while he divides his time impartially between them; and perhaps, when he gets older and the violence of passion has abated, he restores some of the exiles and lives in a sort of equilibrium, indulging first one pleasure and then another; and if reason comes and tells him that some pleasures are good and honourable, and others bad and vile, he shakes his head and says that he can make no distinction between them. thus he lives in the fancy of the hour; sometimes he takes to drink, and then he turns abstainer; he practises in the gymnasium or he does nothing at all; then again he would be a philosopher or a politician; or again, he would be a warrior or a man of business; he is 'every thing by starts and nothing long.' there remains still the finest and fairest of all men and all states--tyranny and the tyrant. tyranny springs from democracy much as democracy springs from oligarchy. both arise from excess; the one from excess of wealth, the other from excess of freedom. 'the great natural good of life,' says the democrat, 'is freedom.' and this exclusive love of freedom and regardlessness of everything else, is the cause of the change from democracy to tyranny. the state demands the strong wine of freedom, and unless her rulers give her a plentiful draught, punishes and insults them; equality and fraternity of governors and governed is the approved principle. anarchy is the law, not of the state only, but of private houses, and extends even to the animals. father and son, citizen and foreigner, teacher and pupil, old and young, are all on a level; fathers and teachers fear their sons and pupils, and the wisdom of the young man is a match for the elder, and the old imitate the jaunty manners of the young because they are afraid of being thought morose. slaves are on a level with their masters and mistresses, and there is no difference between men and women. nay, the very animals in a democratic state have a freedom which is unknown in other places. the she-dogs are as good as their she-mistresses, and horses and asses march along with dignity and run their noses against anybody who comes in their way. 'that has often been my experience.' at last the citizens become so sensitive that they cannot endure the yoke of laws, written or unwritten; they would have no man call himself their master. such is the glorious beginning of things out of which tyranny springs. 'glorious, indeed; but what is to follow?' the ruin of oligarchy is the ruin of democracy; for there is a law of contraries; the excess of freedom passes into the excess of slavery, and the greater the freedom the greater the slavery. you will remember that in the oligarchy were found two classes--rogues and paupers, whom we compared to drones with and without stings. these two classes are to the state what phlegm and bile are to the human body; and the state-physician, or legislator, must get rid of them, just as the bee-master keeps the drones out of the hive. now in a democracy, too, there are drones, but they are more numerous and more dangerous than in the oligarchy; there they are inert and unpractised, here they are full of life and animation; and the keener sort speak and act, while the others buzz about the bema and prevent their opponents from being heard. and there is another class in democratic states, of respectable, thriving individuals, who can be squeezed when the drones have need of their possessions; there is moreover a third class, who are the labourers and the artisans, and they make up the mass of the people. when the people meet, they are omnipotent, but they cannot be brought together unless they are attracted by a little honey; and the rich are made to supply the honey, of which the demagogues keep the greater part themselves, giving a taste only to the mob. their victims attempt to resist; they are driven mad by the stings of the drones, and so become downright oligarchs in self-defence. then follow informations and convictions for treason. the people have some protector whom they nurse into greatness, and from this root the tree of tyranny springs. the nature of the change is indicated in the old fable of the temple of zeus lycaeus, which tells how he who tastes human flesh mixed up with the flesh of other victims will turn into a wolf. even so the protector, who tastes human blood, and slays some and exiles others with or without law, who hints at abolition of debts and division of lands, must either perish or become a wolf--that is, a tyrant. perhaps he is driven out, but he soon comes back from exile; and then if his enemies cannot get rid of him by lawful means, they plot his assassination. thereupon the friend of the people makes his well-known request to them for a body-guard, which they readily grant, thinking only of his danger and not of their own. now let the rich man make to himself wings, for he will never run away again if he does not do so then. and the great protector, having crushed all his rivals, stands proudly erect in the chariot of state, a full-blown tyrant: let us enquire into the nature of his happiness. in the early days of his tyranny he smiles and beams upon everybody; he is not a 'dominus,' no, not he: he has only come to put an end to debt and the monopoly of land. having got rid of foreign enemies, he makes himself necessary to the state by always going to war. he is thus enabled to depress the poor by heavy taxes, and so keep them at work; and he can get rid of bolder spirits by handing them over to the enemy. then comes unpopularity; some of his old associates have the courage to oppose him. the consequence is, that he has to make a purgation of the state; but, unlike the physician who purges away the bad, he must get rid of the high-spirited, the wise and the wealthy; for he has no choice between death and a life of shame and dishonour. and the more hated he is, the more he will require trusty guards; but how will he obtain them? 'they will come flocking like birds--for pay.' will he not rather obtain them on the spot? he will take the slaves from their owners and make them his body-guard; these are his trusted friends, who admire and look up to him. are not the tragic poets wise who magnify and exalt the tyrant, and say that he is wise by association with the wise? and are not their praises of tyranny alone a sufficient reason why we should exclude them from our state? they may go to other cities, and gather the mob about them with fine words, and change commonwealths into tyrannies and democracies, receiving honours and rewards for their services; but the higher they and their friends ascend constitution hill, the more their honour will fail and become 'too asthmatic to mount.' to return to the tyrant--how will he support that rare army of his? first, by robbing the temples of their treasures, which will enable him to lighten the taxes; then he will take all his father's property, and spend it on his companions, male or female. now his father is the demus, and if the demus gets angry, and says that a great hulking son ought not to be a burden on his parents, and bids him and his riotous crew begone, then will the parent know what a monster he has been nurturing, and that the son whom he would fain expel is too strong for him. 'you do not mean to say that he will beat his father?' yes, he will, after having taken away his arms. 'then he is a parricide and a cruel, unnatural son.' and the people have jumped from the fear of slavery into slavery, out of the smoke into the fire. thus liberty, when out of all order and reason, passes into the worst form of servitude... in the previous books plato has described the ideal state; now he returns to the perverted or declining forms, on which he had lightly touched at the end of book iv. these he describes in a succession of parallels between the individuals and the states, tracing the origin of either in the state or individual which has preceded them. he begins by asking the point at which he digressed; and is thus led shortly to recapitulate the substance of the three former books, which also contain a parallel of the philosopher and the state. of the first decline he gives no intelligible account; he would not have liked to admit the most probable causes of the fall of his ideal state, which to us would appear to be the impracticability of communism or the natural antagonism of the ruling and subject classes. he throws a veil of mystery over the origin of the decline, which he attributes to ignorance of the law of population. of this law the famous geometrical figure or number is the expression. like the ancients in general, he had no idea of the gradual perfectibility of man or of the education of the human race. his ideal was not to be attained in the course of ages, but was to spring in full armour from the head of the legislator. when good laws had been given, he thought only of the manner in which they were likely to be corrupted, or of how they might be filled up in detail or restored in accordance with their original spirit. he appears not to have reflected upon the full meaning of his own words, 'in the brief space of human life, nothing great can be accomplished'; or again, as he afterwards says in the laws, 'infinite time is the maker of cities.' the order of constitutions which is adopted by him represents an order of thought rather than a succession of time, and may be considered as the first attempt to frame a philosophy of history. the first of these declining states is timocracy, or the government of soldiers and lovers of honour, which answers to the spartan state; this is a government of force, in which education is not inspired by the muses, but imposed by the law, and in which all the finer elements of organization have disappeared. the philosopher himself has lost the love of truth, and the soldier, who is of a simpler and honester nature, rules in his stead. the individual who answers to timocracy has some noticeable qualities. he is described as ill educated, but, like the spartan, a lover of literature; and although he is a harsh master to his servants he has no natural superiority over them. his character is based upon a reaction against the circumstances of his father, who in a troubled city has retired from politics; and his mother, who is dissatisfied at her own position, is always urging him towards the life of political ambition. such a character may have had this origin, and indeed livy attributes the licinian laws to a feminine jealousy of a similar kind. but there is obviously no connection between the manner in which the timocratic state springs out of the ideal, and the mere accident by which the timocratic man is the son of a retired statesman. the two next stages in the decline of constitutions have even less historical foundation. for there is no trace in greek history of a polity like the spartan or cretan passing into an oligarchy of wealth, or of the oligarchy of wealth passing into a democracy. the order of history appears to be different; first, in the homeric times there is the royal or patriarchal form of government, which a century or two later was succeeded by an oligarchy of birth rather than of wealth, and in which wealth was only the accident of the hereditary possession of land and power. sometimes this oligarchical government gave way to a government based upon a qualification of property, which, according to aristotle's mode of using words, would have been called a timocracy; and this in some cities, as at athens, became the conducting medium to democracy. but such was not the necessary order of succession in states; nor, indeed, can any order be discerned in the endless fluctuation of greek history (like the tides in the euripus), except, perhaps, in the almost uniform tendency from monarchy to aristocracy in the earliest times. at first sight there appears to be a similar inversion in the last step of the platonic succession; for tyranny, instead of being the natural end of democracy, in early greek history appears rather as a stage leading to democracy; the reign of peisistratus and his sons is an episode which comes between the legislation of solon and the constitution of cleisthenes; and some secret cause common to them all seems to have led the greater part of hellas at her first appearance in the dawn of history, e.g. athens, argos, corinth, sicyon, and nearly every state with the exception of sparta, through a similar stage of tyranny which ended either in oligarchy or democracy. but then we must remember that plato is describing rather the contemporary governments of the sicilian states, which alternated between democracy and tyranny, than the ancient history of athens or corinth. the portrait of the tyrant himself is just such as the later greek delighted to draw of phalaris and dionysius, in which, as in the lives of mediaeval saints or mythic heroes, the conduct and actions of one were attributed to another in order to fill up the outline. there was no enormity which the greek was not today to believe of them; the tyrant was the negation of government and law; his assassination was glorious; there was no crime, however unnatural, which might not with probability be attributed to him. in this, plato was only following the common thought of his countrymen, which he embellished and exaggerated with all the power of his genius. there is no need to suppose that he drew from life; or that his knowledge of tyrants is derived from a personal acquaintance with dionysius. the manner in which he speaks of them would rather tend to render doubtful his ever having 'consorted' with them, or entertained the schemes, which are attributed to him in the epistles, of regenerating sicily by their help. plato in a hyperbolical and serio-comic vein exaggerates the follies of democracy which he also sees reflected in social life. to him democracy is a state of individualism or dissolution; in which every one is doing what is right in his own eyes. of a people animated by a common spirit of liberty, rising as one man to repel the persian host, which is the leading idea of democracy in herodotus and thucydides, he never seems to think. but if he is not a believer in liberty, still less is he a lover of tyranny. his deeper and more serious condemnation is reserved for the tyrant, who is the ideal of wickedness and also of weakness, and who in his utter helplessness and suspiciousness is leading an almost impossible existence, without that remnant of good which, in plato's opinion, was required to give power to evil (book i). this ideal of wickedness living in helpless misery, is the reverse of that other portrait of perfect injustice ruling in happiness and splendour, which first of all thrasymachus, and afterwards the sons of ariston had drawn, and is also the reverse of the king whose rule of life is the good of his subjects. each of these governments and individuals has a corresponding ethical gradation: the ideal state is under the rule of reason, not extinguishing but harmonizing the passions, and training them in virtue; in the timocracy and the timocratic man the constitution, whether of the state or of the individual, is based, first, upon courage, and secondly, upon the love of honour; this latter virtue, which is hardly to be esteemed a virtue, has superseded all the rest. in the second stage of decline the virtues have altogether disappeared, and the love of gain has succeeded to them; in the third stage, or democracy, the various passions are allowed to have free play, and the virtues and vices are impartially cultivated. but this freedom, which leads to many curious extravagances of character, is in reality only a state of weakness and dissipation. at last, one monster passion takes possession of the whole nature of man--this is tyranny. in all of them excess--the excess first of wealth and then of freedom, is the element of decay. the eighth book of the republic abounds in pictures of life and fanciful allusions; the use of metaphorical language is carried to a greater extent than anywhere else in plato. we may remark, ( ), the description of the two nations in one, which become more and more divided in the greek republics, as in feudal times, and perhaps also in our own; ( ), the notion of democracy expressed in a sort of pythagorean formula as equality among unequals; ( ), the free and easy ways of men and animals, which are characteristic of liberty, as foreign mercenaries and universal mistrust are of the tyrant; ( ), the proposal that mere debts should not be recoverable by law is a speculation which has often been entertained by reformers of the law in modern times, and is in harmony with the tendencies of modern legislation. debt and land were the two great difficulties of the ancient lawgiver: in modern times we may be said to have almost, if not quite, solved the first of these difficulties, but hardly the second. still more remarkable are the corresponding portraits of individuals: there is the family picture of the father and mother and the old servant of the timocratical man, and the outward respectability and inherent meanness of the oligarchical; the uncontrolled licence and freedom of the democrat, in which the young alcibiades seems to be depicted, doing right or wrong as he pleases, and who at last, like the prodigal, goes into a far country (note here the play of language by which the democratic man is himself represented under the image of a state having a citadel and receiving embassies); and there is the wild-beast nature, which breaks loose in his successor. the hit about the tyrant being a parricide; the representation of the tyrant's life as an obscene dream; the rhetorical surprise of a more miserable than the most miserable of men in book ix; the hint to the poets that if they are the friends of tyrants there is no place for them in a constitutional state, and that they are too clever not to see the propriety of their own expulsion; the continuous image of the drones who are of two kinds, swelling at last into the monster drone having wings (book ix),--are among plato's happiest touches. there remains to be considered the great difficulty of this book of the republic, the so-called number of the state. this is a puzzle almost as great as the number of the beast in the book of revelation, and though apparently known to aristotle, is referred to by cicero as a proverb of obscurity (ep. ad att.). and some have imagined that there is no answer to the puzzle, and that plato has been practising upon his readers. but such a deception as this is inconsistent with the manner in which aristotle speaks of the number (pol.), and would have been ridiculous to any reader of the republic who was acquainted with greek mathematics. as little reason is there for supposing that plato intentionally used obscure expressions; the obscurity arises from our want of familiarity with the subject. on the other hand, plato himself indicates that he is not altogether serious, and in describing his number as a solemn jest of the muses, he appears to imply some degree of satire on the symbolical use of number. (compare cratylus; protag.) our hope of understanding the passage depends principally on an accurate study of the words themselves; on which a faint light is thrown by the parallel passage in the ninth book. another help is the allusion in aristotle, who makes the important remark that the latter part of the passage (greek) describes a solid figure. (pol.--'he only says that nothing is abiding, but that all things change in a certain cycle; and that the origin of the change is a base of numbers which are in the ratio of : ; and this when combined with a figure of five gives two harmonies; he means when the number of this figure becomes solid.') some further clue may be gathered from the appearance of the pythagorean triangle, which is denoted by the numbers , , , and in which, as in every right-angled triangle, the squares of the two lesser sides equal the square of the hypotenuse ( + = ). plato begins by speaking of a perfect or cyclical number (tim.), i.e. a number in which the sum of the divisors equals the whole; this is the divine or perfect number in which all lesser cycles or revolutions are complete. he also speaks of a human or imperfect number, having four terms and three intervals of numbers which are related to one another in certain proportions; these he converts into figures, and finds in them when they have been raised to the third power certain elements of number, which give two 'harmonies,' the one square, the other oblong; but he does not say that the square number answers to the divine, or the oblong number to the human cycle; nor is any intimation given that the first or divine number represents the period of the world, the second the period of the state, or of the human race as zeller supposes; nor is the divine number afterwards mentioned (arist.). the second is the number of generations or births, and presides over them in the same mysterious manner in which the stars preside over them, or in which, according to the pythagoreans, opportunity, justice, marriage, are represented by some number or figure. this is probably the number . the explanation given in the text supposes the two harmonies to make up the number . this explanation derives a certain plausibility from the circumstance that is the ancient number of the spartan citizens (herod.), and would be what plato might have called 'a number which nearly concerns the population of a city'; the mysterious disappearance of the spartan population may possibly have suggested to him the first cause of his decline of states. the lesser or square 'harmony,' of , might be a symbol of the guardians,--the larger or oblong 'harmony,' of the people, and the numbers , , might refer respectively to the three orders in the state or parts of the soul, the four virtues, the five forms of government. the harmony of the musical scale, which is elsewhere used as a symbol of the harmony of the state, is also indicated. for the numbers , , , which represent the sides of the pythagorean triangle, also denote the intervals of the scale. the terms used in the statement of the problem may be explained as follows. a perfect number (greek), as already stated, is one which is equal to the sum of its divisors. thus , which is the first perfect or cyclical number, = + + . the words (greek), 'terms' or 'notes,' and (greek), 'intervals,' are applicable to music as well as to number and figure. (greek) is the 'base' on which the whole calculation depends, or the 'lowest term' from which it can be worked out. the words (greek) have been variously translated--'squared and cubed' (donaldson), 'equalling and equalled in power' (weber), 'by involution and evolution,' i.e. by raising the power and extracting the root (as in the translation). numbers are called 'like and unlike' (greek) when the factors or the sides of the planes and cubes which they represent are or are not in the same ratio: e.g. and = cubed and cubed; and conversely. 'waxing' (greek) numbers, called also 'increasing' (greek), are those which are exceeded by the sum of their divisors: e.g. and are less than and . 'waning' (greek) numbers, called also 'decreasing' (greek) are those which succeed the sum of their divisors: e.g. and exceed and . the words translated 'commensurable and agreeable to one another' (greek) seem to be different ways of describing the same relation, with more or less precision. they are equivalent to 'expressible in terms having the same relation to one another,' like the series , , , , each of which numbers is in the relation of ( and / ) to the preceding. the 'base,' or 'fundamental number, which has / added to it' ( and / ) = / or a musical fourth. (greek) is a 'proportion' of numbers as of musical notes, applied either to the parts or factors of a single number or to the relation of one number to another. the first harmony is a 'square' number (greek); the second harmony is an 'oblong' number (greek), i.e. a number representing a figure of which the opposite sides only are equal. (greek) = 'numbers squared from' or 'upon diameters'; (greek) = 'rational,' i.e. omitting fractions, (greek), 'irrational,' i.e. including fractions; e.g. is a square of the rational diameter of a figure the side of which = : , of an irrational diameter of the same. for several of the explanations here given and for a good deal besides i am indebted to an excellent article on the platonic number by dr. donaldson (proc. of the philol. society). the conclusions which he draws from these data are summed up by him as follows. having assumed that the number of the perfect or divine cycle is the number of the world, and the number of the imperfect cycle the number of the state, he proceeds: 'the period of the world is defined by the perfect number , that of the state by the cube of that number or , which is the product of the last pair of terms in the platonic tetractys (a series of seven terms, , , , , , , ); and if we take this as the basis of our computation, we shall have two cube numbers (greek), viz. and ; and the mean proportionals between these, viz. and , will furnish three intervals and four terms, and these terms and intervals stand related to one another in the sesqui-altera ratio, i.e. each term is to the preceding as / . now if we remember that the number = x = cubed + cubed + cubed, and squared + squared = squared, we must admit that this number implies the numbers , , , to which musicians attach so much importance. and if we combine the ratio / with the number , or multiply the ratios of the sides by the hypotenuse, we shall by first squaring and then cubing obtain two expressions, which denote the ratio of the two last pairs of terms in the platonic tetractys, the former multiplied by the square, the latter by the cube of the number , the sum of the first four digits which constitute the platonic tetractys.' the two (greek) he elsewhere explains as follows: 'the first (greek) is (greek), in other words ( / x ) all squared = x squared over squared. the second (greek), a cube of the same root, is described as multiplied (alpha) by the rational diameter of diminished by unity, i.e., as shown above, : (beta) by two incommensurable diameters, i.e. the two first irrationals, or and : and (gamma) by the cube of , or . thus we have ( + + ) = x cubed. this second harmony is to be the cube of the number of which the former harmony is the square, and therefore must be divided by the cube of . in other words, the whole expression will be: ( ), for the first harmony, / : ( ), for the second harmony, / .' the reasons which have inclined me to agree with dr. donaldson and also with schleiermacher in supposing that is the platonic number of births are: ( ) that it coincides with the description of the number given in the first part of the passage (greek...): ( ) that the number with its permutations would have been familiar to a greek mathematician, though unfamiliar to us: ( ) that is the cube of , and also the sum of cubed, cubed, cubed, the numbers , , representing the pythagorean triangle, of which the sides when squared equal the square of the hypotenuse ( + = ): ( ) that it is also the period of the pythagorean metempsychosis: ( ) the three ultimate terms or bases ( , , ) of which is composed answer to the third, fourth, fifth in the musical scale: ( ) that the number is the product of the cubes of and , which are the two last terms in the platonic tetractys: ( ) that the pythagorean triangle is said by plutarch (de is. et osir.), proclus (super prima eucl.), and quintilian (de musica) to be contained in this passage, so that the tradition of the school seems to point in the same direction: ( ) that the pythagorean triangle is called also the figure of marriage (greek). but though agreeing with dr. donaldson thus far, i see no reason for supposing, as he does, that the first or perfect number is the world, the human or imperfect number the state; nor has he given any proof that the second harmony is a cube. nor do i think that (greek) can mean 'two incommensurables,' which he arbitrarily assumes to be and , but rather, as the preceding clause implies, (greek), i.e. two square numbers based upon irrational diameters of a figure the side of which is = x . the greatest objection to the translation is the sense given to the words (greek), 'a base of three with a third added to it, multiplied by .' in this somewhat forced manner plato introduces once more the numbers of the pythagorean triangle. but the coincidences in the numbers which follow are in favour of the explanation. the first harmony of , as has been already remarked, probably represents the rulers; the second and oblong harmony of , the people. and here we take leave of the difficulty. the discovery of the riddle would be useless, and would throw no light on ancient mathematics. the point of interest is that plato should have used such a symbol, and that so much of the pythagorean spirit should have prevailed in him. his general meaning is that divine creation is perfect, and is represented or presided over by a perfect or cyclical number; human generation is imperfect, and represented or presided over by an imperfect number or series of numbers. the number , which is the number of the citizens in the laws, is expressly based by him on utilitarian grounds, namely, the convenience of the number for division; it is also made up of the first seven digits multiplied by one another. the contrast of the perfect and imperfect number may have been easily suggested by the corrections of the cycle, which were made first by meton and secondly by callippus; (the latter is said to have been a pupil of plato). of the degree of importance or of exactness to be attributed to the problem, the number of the tyrant in book ix ( = x ), and the slight correction of the error in the number / (laws), may furnish a criterion. there is nothing surprising in the circumstance that those who were seeking for order in nature and had found order in number, should have imagined one to give law to the other. plato believes in a power of number far beyond what he could see realized in the world around him, and he knows the great influence which 'the little matter of , , ' exercises upon education. he may even be thought to have a prophetic anticipation of the discoveries of quetelet and others, that numbers depend upon numbers; e.g.--in population, the numbers of births and the respective numbers of children born of either sex, on the respective ages of parents, i.e. on other numbers. book ix. last of all comes the tyrannical man, about whom we have to enquire, whence is he, and how does he live--in happiness or in misery? there is, however, a previous question of the nature and number of the appetites, which i should like to consider first. some of them are unlawful, and yet admit of being chastened and weakened in various degrees by the power of reason and law. 'what appetites do you mean?' i mean those which are awake when the reasoning powers are asleep, which get up and walk about naked without any self-respect or shame; and there is no conceivable folly or crime, however cruel or unnatural, of which, in imagination, they may not be guilty. 'true,' he said; 'very true.' but when a man's pulse beats temperately; and he has supped on a feast of reason and come to a knowledge of himself before going to rest, and has satisfied his desires just enough to prevent their perturbing his reason, which remains clear and luminous, and when he is free from quarrel and heat,--the visions which he has on his bed are least irregular and abnormal. even in good men there is such an irregular wild-beast nature, which peers out in sleep. to return:--you remember what was said of the democrat; that he was the son of a miserly father, who encouraged the saving desires and repressed the ornamental and expensive ones; presently the youth got into fine company, and began to entertain a dislike to his father's narrow ways; and being a better man than the corrupters of his youth, he came to a mean, and led a life, not of lawless or slavish passion, but of regular and successive indulgence. now imagine that the youth has become a father, and has a son who is exposed to the same temptations, and has companions who lead him into every sort of iniquity, and parents and friends who try to keep him right. the counsellors of evil find that their only chance of retaining him is to implant in his soul a monster drone, or love; while other desires buzz around him and mystify him with sweet sounds and scents, this monster love takes possession of him, and puts an end to every true or modest thought or wish. love, like drunkenness and madness, is a tyranny; and the tyrannical man, whether made by nature or habit, is just a drinking, lusting, furious sort of animal. and how does such an one live? 'nay, that you must tell me.' well then, i fancy that he will live amid revelries and harlotries, and love will be the lord and master of the house. many desires require much money, and so he spends all that he has and borrows more; and when he has nothing the young ravens are still in the nest in which they were hatched, crying for food. love urges them on; and they must be gratified by force or fraud, or if not, they become painful and troublesome; and as the new pleasures succeed the old ones, so will the son take possession of the goods of his parents; if they show signs of refusing, he will defraud and deceive them; and if they openly resist, what then? 'i can only say, that i should not much like to be in their place.' but, o heavens, adeimantus, to think that for some new-fangled and unnecessary love he will give up his old father and mother, best and dearest of friends, or enslave them to the fancies of the hour! truly a tyrannical son is a blessing to his father and mother! when there is no more to be got out of them, he turns burglar or pickpocket, or robs a temple. love overmasters the thoughts of his youth, and he becomes in sober reality the monster that he was sometimes in sleep. he waxes strong in all violence and lawlessness; and is ready for any deed of daring that will supply the wants of his rabble-rout. in a well-ordered state there are only a few such, and these in time of war go out and become the mercenaries of a tyrant. but in time of peace they stay at home and do mischief; they are the thieves, footpads, cut-purses, man-stealers of the community; or if they are able to speak, they turn false-witnesses and informers. 'no small catalogue of crimes truly, even if the perpetrators are few.' yes, i said; but small and great are relative terms, and no crimes which are committed by them approach those of the tyrant, whom this class, growing strong and numerous, create out of themselves. if the people yield, well and good, but, if they resist, then, as before he beat his father and mother, so now he beats his fatherland and motherland, and places his mercenaries over them. such men in their early days live with flatterers, and they themselves flatter others, in order to gain their ends; but they soon discard their followers when they have no longer any need of them; they are always either masters or servants,--the joys of friendship are unknown to them. and they are utterly treacherous and unjust, if the nature of justice be at all understood by us. they realize our dream; and he who is the most of a tyrant by nature, and leads the life of a tyrant for the longest time, will be the worst of them, and being the worst of them, will also be the most miserable. like man, like state,--the tyrannical man will answer to tyranny, which is the extreme opposite of the royal state; for one is the best and the other the worst. but which is the happier? great and terrible as the tyrant may appear enthroned amid his satellites, let us not be afraid to go in and ask; and the answer is, that the monarchical is the happiest, and the tyrannical the most miserable of states. and may we not ask the same question about the men themselves, requesting some one to look into them who is able to penetrate the inner nature of man, and will not be panic-struck by the vain pomp of tyranny? i will suppose that he is one who has lived with him, and has seen him in family life, or perhaps in the hour of trouble and danger. assuming that we ourselves are the impartial judge for whom we seek, let us begin by comparing the individual and state, and ask first of all, whether the state is likely to be free or enslaved--will there not be a little freedom and a great deal of slavery? and the freedom is of the bad, and the slavery of the good; and this applies to the man as well as to the state; for his soul is full of meanness and slavery, and the better part is enslaved to the worse. he cannot do what he would, and his mind is full of confusion; he is the very reverse of a freeman. the state will be poor and full of misery and sorrow; and the man's soul will also be poor and full of sorrows, and he will be the most miserable of men. no, not the most miserable, for there is yet a more miserable. 'who is that?' the tyrannical man who has the misfortune also to become a public tyrant. 'there i suspect that you are right.' say rather, 'i am sure;' conjecture is out of place in an enquiry of this nature. he is like a wealthy owner of slaves, only he has more of them than any private individual. you will say, 'the owners of slaves are not generally in any fear of them.' but why? because the whole city is in a league which protects the individual. suppose however that one of these owners and his household is carried off by a god into a wilderness, where there are no freemen to help him--will he not be in an agony of terror?--will he not be compelled to flatter his slaves and to promise them many things sore against his will? and suppose the same god who carried him off were to surround him with neighbours who declare that no man ought to have slaves, and that the owners of them should be punished with death. 'still worse and worse! he will be in the midst of his enemies.' and is not our tyrant such a captive soul, who is tormented by a swarm of passions which he cannot indulge; living indoors always like a woman, and jealous of those who can go out and see the world? having so many evils, will not the most miserable of men be still more miserable in a public station? master of others when he is not master of himself; like a sick man who is compelled to be an athlete; the meanest of slaves and the most abject of flatterers; wanting all things, and never able to satisfy his desires; always in fear and distraction, like the state of which he is the representative. his jealous, hateful, faithless temper grows worse with command; he is more and more faithless, envious, unrighteous,--the most wretched of men, a misery to himself and to others. and so let us have a final trial and proclamation; need we hire a herald, or shall i proclaim the result? 'made the proclamation yourself.' the son of ariston (the best) is of opinion that the best and justest of men is also the happiest, and that this is he who is the most royal master of himself; and that the unjust man is he who is the greatest tyrant of himself and of his state. and i add further--'seen or unseen by gods or men.' this is our first proof. the second is derived from the three kinds of pleasure, which answer to the three elements of the soul--reason, passion, desire; under which last is comprehended avarice as well as sensual appetite, while passion includes ambition, party-feeling, love of reputation. reason, again, is solely directed to the attainment of truth, and careless of money and reputation. in accordance with the difference of men's natures, one of these three principles is in the ascendant, and they have their several pleasures corresponding to them. interrogate now the three natures, and each one will be found praising his own pleasures and depreciating those of others. the money-maker will contrast the vanity of knowledge with the solid advantages of wealth. the ambitious man will despise knowledge which brings no honour; whereas the philosopher will regard only the fruition of truth, and will call other pleasures necessary rather than good. now, how shall we decide between them? is there any better criterion than experience and knowledge? and which of the three has the truest knowledge and the widest experience? the experience of youth makes the philosopher acquainted with the two kinds of desire, but the avaricious and the ambitious man never taste the pleasures of truth and wisdom. honour he has equally with them; they are 'judged of him,' but he is 'not judged of them,' for they never attain to the knowledge of true being. and his instrument is reason, whereas their standard is only wealth and honour; and if by reason we are to judge, his good will be the truest. and so we arrive at the result that the pleasure of the rational part of the soul, and a life passed in such pleasure is the pleasantest. he who has a right to judge judges thus. next comes the life of ambition, and, in the third place, that of money-making. twice has the just man overthrown the unjust--once more, as in an olympian contest, first offering up a prayer to the saviour zeus, let him try a fall. a wise man whispers to me that the pleasures of the wise are true and pure; all others are a shadow only. let us examine this: is not pleasure opposed to pain, and is there not a mean state which is neither? when a man is sick, nothing is more pleasant to him than health. but this he never found out while he was well. in pain he desires only to cease from pain; on the other hand, when he is in an ecstasy of pleasure, rest is painful to him. thus rest or cessation is both pleasure and pain. but can that which is neither become both? again, pleasure and pain are motions, and the absence of them is rest; but if so, how can the absence of either of them be the other? thus we are led to infer that the contradiction is an appearance only, and witchery of the senses. and these are not the only pleasures, for there are others which have no preceding pains. pure pleasure then is not the absence of pain, nor pure pain the absence of pleasure; although most of the pleasures which reach the mind through the body are reliefs of pain, and have not only their reactions when they depart, but their anticipations before they come. they can be best described in a simile. there is in nature an upper, lower, and middle region, and he who passes from the lower to the middle imagines that he is going up and is already in the upper world; and if he were taken back again would think, and truly think, that he was descending. all this arises out of his ignorance of the true upper, middle, and lower regions. and a like confusion happens with pleasure and pain, and with many other things. the man who compares grey with black, calls grey white; and the man who compares absence of pain with pain, calls the absence of pain pleasure. again, hunger and thirst are inanitions of the body, ignorance and folly of the soul; and food is the satisfaction of the one, knowledge of the other. now which is the purer satisfaction--that of eating and drinking, or that of knowledge? consider the matter thus: the satisfaction of that which has more existence is truer than of that which has less. the invariable and immortal has a more real existence than the variable and mortal, and has a corresponding measure of knowledge and truth. the soul, again, has more existence and truth and knowledge than the body, and is therefore more really satisfied and has a more natural pleasure. those who feast only on earthly food, are always going at random up to the middle and down again; but they never pass into the true upper world, or have a taste of true pleasure. they are like fatted beasts, full of gluttony and sensuality, and ready to kill one another by reason of their insatiable lust; for they are not filled with true being, and their vessel is leaky (gorgias). their pleasures are mere shadows of pleasure, mixed with pain, coloured and intensified by contrast, and therefore intensely desired; and men go fighting about them, as stesichorus says that the greeks fought about the shadow of helen at troy, because they know not the truth. the same may be said of the passionate element:--the desires of the ambitious soul, as well as of the covetous, have an inferior satisfaction. only when under the guidance of reason do either of the other principles do their own business or attain the pleasure which is natural to them. when not attaining, they compel the other parts of the soul to pursue a shadow of pleasure which is not theirs. and the more distant they are from philosophy and reason, the more distant they will be from law and order, and the more illusive will be their pleasures. the desires of love and tyranny are the farthest from law, and those of the king are nearest to it. there is one genuine pleasure, and two spurious ones: the tyrant goes beyond even the latter; he has run away altogether from law and reason. nor can the measure of his inferiority be told, except in a figure. the tyrant is the third removed from the oligarch, and has therefore, not a shadow of his pleasure, but the shadow of a shadow only. the oligarch, again, is thrice removed from the king, and thus we get the formula x , which is the number of a surface, representing the shadow which is the tyrant's pleasure, and if you like to cube this 'number of the beast,' you will find that the measure of the difference amounts to ; the king is times more happy than the tyrant. and this extraordinary number is nearly equal to the number of days and nights in a year ( x = ); and is therefore concerned with human life. this is the interval between a good and bad man in happiness only: what must be the difference between them in comeliness of life and virtue! perhaps you may remember some one saying at the beginning of our discussion that the unjust man was profited if he had the reputation of justice. now that we know the nature of justice and injustice, let us make an image of the soul, which will personify his words. first of all, fashion a multitudinous beast, having a ring of heads of all manner of animals, tame and wild, and able to produce and change them at pleasure. suppose now another form of a lion, and another of a man; the second smaller than the first, the third than the second; join them together and cover them with a human skin, in which they are completely concealed. when this has been done, let us tell the supporter of injustice that he is feeding up the beasts and starving the man. the maintainer of justice, on the other hand, is trying to strengthen the man; he is nourishing the gentle principle within him, and making an alliance with the lion heart, in order that he may be able to keep down the many-headed hydra, and bring all into unity with each other and with themselves. thus in every point of view, whether in relation to pleasure, honour, or advantage, the just man is right, and the unjust wrong. but now, let us reason with the unjust, who is not intentionally in error. is not the noble that which subjects the beast to the man, or rather to the god in man; the ignoble, that which subjects the man to the beast? and if so, who would receive gold on condition that he was to degrade the noblest part of himself under the worst?--who would sell his son or daughter into the hands of brutal and evil men, for any amount of money? and will he sell his own fairer and diviner part without any compunction to the most godless and foul? would he not be worse than eriphyle, who sold her husband's life for a necklace? and intemperance is the letting loose of the multiform monster, and pride and sullenness are the growth and increase of the lion and serpent element, while luxury and effeminacy are caused by a too great relaxation of spirit. flattery and meanness again arise when the spirited element is subjected to avarice, and the lion is habituated to become a monkey. the real disgrace of handicraft arts is, that those who are engaged in them have to flatter, instead of mastering their desires; therefore we say that they should be placed under the control of the better principle in another because they have none in themselves; not, as thrasymachus imagined, to the injury of the subjects, but for their good. and our intention in educating the young, is to give them self-control; the law desires to nurse up in them a higher principle, and when they have acquired this, they may go their ways. 'what, then, shall a man profit, if he gain the whole world' and become more and more wicked? or what shall he profit by escaping discovery, if the concealment of evil prevents the cure? if he had been punished, the brute within him would have been silenced, and the gentler element liberated; and he would have united temperance, justice, and wisdom in his soul--a union better far than any combination of bodily gifts. the man of understanding will honour knowledge above all; in the next place he will keep under his body, not only for the sake of health and strength, but in order to attain the most perfect harmony of body and soul. in the acquisition of riches, too, he will aim at order and harmony; he will not desire to heap up wealth without measure, but he will fear that the increase of wealth will disturb the constitution of his own soul. for the same reason he will only accept such honours as will make him a better man; any others he will decline. 'in that case,' said he, 'he will never be a politician.' yes, but he will, in his own city; though probably not in his native country, unless by some divine accident. 'you mean that he will be a citizen of the ideal city, which has no place upon earth.' but in heaven, i replied, there is a pattern of such a city, and he who wishes may order his life after that image. whether such a state is or ever will be matters not; he will act according to that pattern and no other... the most noticeable points in the th book of the republic are:--( ) the account of pleasure; ( ) the number of the interval which divides the king from the tyrant; ( ) the pattern which is in heaven. . plato's account of pleasure is remarkable for moderation, and in this respect contrasts with the later platonists and the views which are attributed to them by aristotle. he is not, like the cynics, opposed to all pleasure, but rather desires that the several parts of the soul shall have their natural satisfaction; he even agrees with the epicureans in describing pleasure as something more than the absence of pain. this is proved by the circumstance that there are pleasures which have no antecedent pains (as he also remarks in the philebus), such as the pleasures of smell, and also the pleasures of hope and anticipation. in the previous book he had made the distinction between necessary and unnecessary pleasure, which is repeated by aristotle, and he now observes that there are a further class of 'wild beast' pleasures, corresponding to aristotle's (greek). he dwells upon the relative and unreal character of sensual pleasures and the illusion which arises out of the contrast of pleasure and pain, pointing out the superiority of the pleasures of reason, which are at rest, over the fleeting pleasures of sense and emotion. the pre-eminence of royal pleasure is shown by the fact that reason is able to form a judgment of the lower pleasures, while the two lower parts of the soul are incapable of judging the pleasures of reason. thus, in his treatment of pleasure, as in many other subjects, the philosophy of plato is 'sawn up into quantities' by aristotle; the analysis which was originally made by him became in the next generation the foundation of further technical distinctions. both in plato and aristotle we note the illusion under which the ancients fell of regarding the transience of pleasure as a proof of its unreality, and of confounding the permanence of the intellectual pleasures with the unchangeableness of the knowledge from which they are derived. neither do we like to admit that the pleasures of knowledge, though more elevating, are not more lasting than other pleasures, and are almost equally dependent on the accidents of our bodily state (introduction to philebus). . the number of the interval which separates the king from the tyrant, and royal from tyrannical pleasures, is , the cube of . which plato characteristically designates as a number concerned with human life, because nearly equivalent to the number of days and nights in the year. he is desirous of proclaiming that the interval between them is immeasurable, and invents a formula to give expression to his idea. those who spoke of justice as a cube, of virtue as an art of measuring (prot.), saw no inappropriateness in conceiving the soul under the figure of a line, or the pleasure of the tyrant as separated from the pleasure of the king by the numerical interval of . and in modern times we sometimes use metaphorically what plato employed as a philosophical formula. 'it is not easy to estimate the loss of the tyrant, except perhaps in this way,' says plato. so we might say, that although the life of a good man is not to be compared to that of a bad man, yet you may measure the difference between them by valuing one minute of the one at an hour of the other ('one day in thy courts is better than a thousand'), or you might say that 'there is an infinite difference.' but this is not so much as saying, in homely phrase, 'they are a thousand miles asunder.' and accordingly plato finds the natural vehicle of his thoughts in a progression of numbers; this arithmetical formula he draws out with the utmost seriousness, and both here and in the number of generation seems to find an additional proof of the truth of his speculation in forming the number into a geometrical figure; just as persons in our own day are apt to fancy that a statement is verified when it has been only thrown into an abstract form. in speaking of the number as proper to human life, he probably intended to intimate that one year of the tyrannical = hours of the royal life. the simple observation that the comparison of two similar solids is effected by the comparison of the cubes of their sides, is the mathematical groundwork of this fanciful expression. there is some difficulty in explaining the steps by which the number is obtained; the oligarch is removed in the third degree from the royal and aristocratical, and the tyrant in the third degree from the oligarchical; but we have to arrange the terms as the sides of a square and to count the oligarch twice over, thus reckoning them not as = but as = . the square of is passed lightly over as only a step towards the cube. . towards the close of the republic, plato seems to be more and more convinced of the ideal character of his own speculations. at the end of the th book the pattern which is in heaven takes the place of the city of philosophers on earth. the vision which has received form and substance at his hands, is now discovered to be at a distance. and yet this distant kingdom is also the rule of man's life. ('say not lo! here, or lo! there, for the kingdom of god is within you.') thus a note is struck which prepares for the revelation of a future life in the following book. but the future life is present still; the ideal of politics is to be realized in the individual. book x. many things pleased me in the order of our state, but there was nothing which i liked better than the regulation about poetry. the division of the soul throws a new light on our exclusion of imitation. i do not mind telling you in confidence that all poetry is an outrage on the understanding, unless the hearers have that balm of knowledge which heals error. i have loved homer ever since i was a boy, and even now he appears to me to be the great master of tragic poetry. but much as i love the man, i love truth more, and therefore i must speak out: and first of all, will you explain what is imitation, for really i do not understand? 'how likely then that i should understand!' that might very well be, for the duller often sees better than the keener eye. 'true, but in your presence i can hardly venture to say what i think.' then suppose that we begin in our old fashion, with the doctrine of universals. let us assume the existence of beds and tables. there is one idea of a bed, or of a table, which the maker of each had in his mind when making them; he did not make the ideas of beds and tables, but he made beds and tables according to the ideas. and is there not a maker of the works of all workmen, who makes not only vessels but plants and animals, himself, the earth and heaven, and things in heaven and under the earth? he makes the gods also. 'he must be a wizard indeed!' but do you not see that there is a sense in which you could do the same? you have only to take a mirror, and catch the reflection of the sun, and the earth, or anything else--there now you have made them. 'yes, but only in appearance.' exactly so; and the painter is such a creator as you are with the mirror, and he is even more unreal than the carpenter; although neither the carpenter nor any other artist can be supposed to make the absolute bed. 'not if philosophers may be believed.' nor need we wonder that his bed has but an imperfect relation to the truth. reflect:--here are three beds; one in nature, which is made by god; another, which is made by the carpenter; and the third, by the painter. god only made one, nor could he have made more than one; for if there had been two, there would always have been a third--more absolute and abstract than either, under which they would have been included. we may therefore conceive god to be the natural maker of the bed, and in a lower sense the carpenter is also the maker; but the painter is rather the imitator of what the other two make; he has to do with a creation which is thrice removed from reality. and the tragic poet is an imitator, and, like every other imitator, is thrice removed from the king and from the truth. the painter imitates not the original bed, but the bed made by the carpenter. and this, without being really different, appears to be different, and has many points of view, of which only one is caught by the painter, who represents everything because he represents a piece of everything, and that piece an image. and he can paint any other artist, although he knows nothing of their arts; and this with sufficient skill to deceive children or simple people. suppose now that somebody came to us and told us, how he had met a man who knew all that everybody knows, and better than anybody:--should we not infer him to be a simpleton who, having no discernment of truth and falsehood, had met with a wizard or enchanter, whom he fancied to be all-wise? and when we hear persons saying that homer and the tragedians know all the arts and all the virtues, must we not infer that they are under a similar delusion? they do not see that the poets are imitators, and that their creations are only imitations. 'very true.' but if a person could create as well as imitate, he would rather leave some permanent work and not an imitation only; he would rather be the receiver than the giver of praise? 'yes, for then he would have more honour and advantage.' let us now interrogate homer and the poets. friend homer, say i to him, i am not going to ask you about medicine, or any art to which your poems incidentally refer, but about their main subjects--war, military tactics, politics. if you are only twice and not thrice removed from the truth--not an imitator or an image-maker, please to inform us what good you have ever done to mankind? is there any city which professes to have received laws from you, as sicily and italy have from charondas, sparta from lycurgus, athens from solon? or was any war ever carried on by your counsels? or is any invention attributed to you, as there is to thales and anacharsis? or is there any homeric way of life, such as the pythagorean was, in which you instructed men, and which is called after you? 'no, indeed; and creophylus (flesh-child) was even more unfortunate in his breeding than he was in his name, if, as tradition says, homer in his lifetime was allowed by him and his other friends to starve.' yes, but could this ever have happened if homer had really been the educator of hellas? would he not have had many devoted followers? if protagoras and prodicus can persuade their contemporaries that no one can manage house or state without them, is it likely that homer and hesiod would have been allowed to go about as beggars--i mean if they had really been able to do the world any good?--would not men have compelled them to stay where they were, or have followed them about in order to get education? but they did not; and therefore we may infer that homer and all the poets are only imitators, who do but imitate the appearances of things. for as a painter by a knowledge of figure and colour can paint a cobbler without any practice in cobbling, so the poet can delineate any art in the colours of language, and give harmony and rhythm to the cobbler and also to the general; and you know how mere narration, when deprived of the ornaments of metre, is like a face which has lost the beauty of youth and never had any other. once more, the imitator has no knowledge of reality, but only of appearance. the painter paints, and the artificer makes a bridle and reins, but neither understands the use of them--the knowledge of this is confined to the horseman; and so of other things. thus we have three arts: one of use, another of invention, a third of imitation; and the user furnishes the rule to the two others. the flute-player will know the good and bad flute, and the maker will put faith in him; but the imitator will neither know nor have faith--neither science nor true opinion can be ascribed to him. imitation, then, is devoid of knowledge, being only a kind of play or sport, and the tragic and epic poets are imitators in the highest degree. and now let us enquire, what is the faculty in man which answers to imitation. allow me to explain my meaning: objects are differently seen when in the water and when out of the water, when near and when at a distance; and the painter or juggler makes use of this variation to impose upon us. and the art of measuring and weighing and calculating comes in to save our bewildered minds from the power of appearance; for, as we were saying, two contrary opinions of the same about the same and at the same time, cannot both of them be true. but which of them is true is determined by the art of calculation; and this is allied to the better faculty in the soul, as the arts of imitation are to the worse. and the same holds of the ear as well as of the eye, of poetry as well as painting. the imitation is of actions voluntary or involuntary, in which there is an expectation of a good or bad result, and present experience of pleasure and pain. but is a man in harmony with himself when he is the subject of these conflicting influences? is there not rather a contradiction in him? let me further ask, whether he is more likely to control sorrow when he is alone or when he is in company. 'in the latter case.' feeling would lead him to indulge his sorrow, but reason and law control him and enjoin patience; since he cannot know whether his affliction is good or evil, and no human thing is of any great consequence, while sorrow is certainly a hindrance to good counsel. for when we stumble, we should not, like children, make an uproar; we should take the measures which reason prescribes, not raising a lament, but finding a cure. and the better part of us is ready to follow reason, while the irrational principle is full of sorrow and distraction at the recollection of our troubles. unfortunately, however, this latter furnishes the chief materials of the imitative arts. whereas reason is ever in repose and cannot easily be displayed, especially to a mixed multitude who have no experience of her. thus the poet is like the painter in two ways: first he paints an inferior degree of truth, and secondly, he is concerned with an inferior part of the soul. he indulges the feelings, while he enfeebles the reason; and we refuse to allow him to have authority over the mind of man; for he has no measure of greater and less, and is a maker of images and very far gone from truth. but we have not yet mentioned the heaviest count in the indictment--the power which poetry has of injuriously exciting the feelings. when we hear some passage in which a hero laments his sufferings at tedious length, you know that we sympathize with him and praise the poet; and yet in our own sorrows such an exhibition of feeling is regarded as effeminate and unmanly (ion). now, ought a man to feel pleasure in seeing another do what he hates and abominates in himself? is he not giving way to a sentiment which in his own case he would control?--he is off his guard because the sorrow is another's; and he thinks that he may indulge his feelings without disgrace, and will be the gainer by the pleasure. but the inevitable consequence is that he who begins by weeping at the sorrows of others, will end by weeping at his own. the same is true of comedy,--you may often laugh at buffoonery which you would be ashamed to utter, and the love of coarse merriment on the stage will at last turn you into a buffoon at home. poetry feeds and waters the passions and desires; she lets them rule instead of ruling them. and therefore, when we hear the encomiasts of homer affirming that he is the educator of hellas, and that all life should be regulated by his precepts, we may allow the excellence of their intentions, and agree with them in thinking homer a great poet and tragedian. but we shall continue to prohibit all poetry which goes beyond hymns to the gods and praises of famous men. not pleasure and pain, but law and reason shall rule in our state. these are our grounds for expelling poetry; but lest she should charge us with discourtesy, let us also make an apology to her. we will remind her that there is an ancient quarrel between poetry and philosophy, of which there are many traces in the writings of the poets, such as the saying of 'the she-dog, yelping at her mistress,' and 'the philosophers who are ready to circumvent zeus,' and 'the philosophers who are paupers.' nevertheless we bear her no ill-will, and will gladly allow her to return upon condition that she makes a defence of herself in verse; and her supporters who are not poets may speak in prose. we confess her charms; but if she cannot show that she is useful as well as delightful, like rational lovers, we must renounce our love, though endeared to us by early associations. having come to years of discretion, we know that poetry is not truth, and that a man should be careful how he introduces her to that state or constitution which he himself is; for there is a mighty issue at stake--no less than the good or evil of a human soul. and it is not worth while to forsake justice and virtue for the attractions of poetry, any more than for the sake of honour or wealth. 'i agree with you.' and yet the rewards of virtue are greater far than i have described. 'and can we conceive things greater still?' not, perhaps, in this brief span of life: but should an immortal being care about anything short of eternity? 'i do not understand what you mean?' do you not know that the soul is immortal? 'surely you are not prepared to prove that?' indeed i am. 'then let me hear this argument, of which you make so light.' you would admit that everything has an element of good and of evil. in all things there is an inherent corruption; and if this cannot destroy them, nothing else will. the soul too has her own corrupting principles, which are injustice, intemperance, cowardice, and the like. but none of these destroy the soul in the same sense that disease destroys the body. the soul may be full of all iniquities, but is not, by reason of them, brought any nearer to death. nothing which was not destroyed from within ever perished by external affection of evil. the body, which is one thing, cannot be destroyed by food, which is another, unless the badness of the food is communicated to the body. neither can the soul, which is one thing, be corrupted by the body, which is another, unless she herself is infected. and as no bodily evil can infect the soul, neither can any bodily evil, whether disease or violence, or any other destroy the soul, unless it can be shown to render her unholy and unjust. but no one will ever prove that the souls of men become more unjust when they die. if a person has the audacity to say the contrary, the answer is--then why do criminals require the hand of the executioner, and not die of themselves? 'truly,' he said, 'injustice would not be very terrible if it brought a cessation of evil; but i rather believe that the injustice which murders others may tend to quicken and stimulate the life of the unjust.' you are quite right. if sin which is her own natural and inherent evil cannot destroy the soul, hardly will anything else destroy her. but the soul which cannot be destroyed either by internal or external evil must be immortal and everlasting. and if this be true, souls will always exist in the same number. they cannot diminish, because they cannot be destroyed; nor yet increase, for the increase of the immortal must come from something mortal, and so all would end in immortality. neither is the soul variable and diverse; for that which is immortal must be of the fairest and simplest composition. if we would conceive her truly, and so behold justice and injustice in their own nature, she must be viewed by the light of reason pure as at birth, or as she is reflected in philosophy when holding converse with the divine and immortal and eternal. in her present condition we see her only like the sea-god glaucus, bruised and maimed in the sea which is the world, and covered with shells and stones which are incrusted upon her from the entertainments of earth. thus far, as the argument required, we have said nothing of the rewards and honours which the poets attribute to justice; we have contented ourselves with showing that justice in herself is best for the soul in herself, even if a man should put on a gyges' ring and have the helmet of hades too. and now you shall repay me what you borrowed; and i will enumerate the rewards of justice in life and after death. i granted, for the sake of argument, as you will remember, that evil might perhaps escape the knowledge of gods and men, although this was really impossible. and since i have shown that justice has reality, you must grant me also that she has the palm of appearance. in the first place, the just man is known to the gods, and he is therefore the friend of the gods, and he will receive at their hands every good, always excepting such evil as is the necessary consequence of former sins. all things end in good to him, either in life or after death, even what appears to be evil; for the gods have a care of him who desires to be in their likeness. and what shall we say of men? is not honesty the best policy? the clever rogue makes a great start at first, but breaks down before he reaches the goal, and slinks away in dishonour; whereas the true runner perseveres to the end, and receives the prize. and you must allow me to repeat all the blessings which you attributed to the fortunate unjust--they bear rule in the city, they marry and give in marriage to whom they will; and the evils which you attributed to the unfortunate just, do really fall in the end on the unjust, although, as you implied, their sufferings are better veiled in silence. but all the blessings of this present life are as nothing when compared with those which await good men after death. 'i should like to hear about them.' come, then, and i will tell you the story of er, the son of armenius, a valiant man. he was supposed to have died in battle, but ten days afterwards his body was found untouched by corruption and sent home for burial. on the twelfth day he was placed on the funeral pyre and there he came to life again, and told what he had seen in the world below. he said that his soul went with a great company to a place, in which there were two chasms near together in the earth beneath, and two corresponding chasms in the heaven above. and there were judges sitting in the intermediate space, bidding the just ascend by the heavenly way on the right hand, having the seal of their judgment set upon them before, while the unjust, having the seal behind, were bidden to descend by the way on the left hand. him they told to look and listen, as he was to be their messenger to men from the world below. and he beheld and saw the souls departing after judgment at either chasm; some who came from earth, were worn and travel-stained; others, who came from heaven, were clean and bright. they seemed glad to meet and rest awhile in the meadow; here they discoursed with one another of what they had seen in the other world. those who came from earth wept at the remembrance of their sorrows, but the spirits from above spoke of glorious sights and heavenly bliss. he said that for every evil deed they were punished tenfold--now the journey was of a thousand years' duration, because the life of man was reckoned as a hundred years--and the rewards of virtue were in the same proportion. he added something hardly worth repeating about infants dying almost as soon as they were born. of parricides and other murderers he had tortures still more terrible to narrate. he was present when one of the spirits asked--where is ardiaeus the great? (this ardiaeus was a cruel tyrant, who had murdered his father, and his elder brother, a thousand years before.) another spirit answered, 'he comes not hither, and will never come. and i myself,' he added, 'actually saw this terrible sight. at the entrance of the chasm, as we were about to reascend, ardiaeus appeared, and some other sinners--most of whom had been tyrants, but not all--and just as they fancied that they were returning to life, the chasm gave a roar, and then wild, fiery-looking men who knew the meaning of the sound, seized him and several others, and bound them hand and foot and threw them down, and dragged them along at the side of the road, lacerating them and carding them like wool, and explaining to the passers-by, that they were going to be cast into hell.' the greatest terror of the pilgrims ascending was lest they should hear the voice, and when there was silence one by one they passed up with joy. to these sufferings there were corresponding delights. on the eighth day the souls of the pilgrims resumed their journey, and in four days came to a spot whence they looked down upon a line of light, in colour like a rainbow, only brighter and clearer. one day more brought them to the place, and they saw that this was the column of light which binds together the whole universe. the ends of the column were fastened to heaven, and from them hung the distaff of necessity, on which all the heavenly bodies turned--the hook and spindle were of adamant, and the whorl of a mixed substance. the whorl was in form like a number of boxes fitting into one another with their edges turned upwards, making together a single whorl which was pierced by the spindle. the outermost had the rim broadest, and the inner whorls were smaller and smaller, and had their rims narrower. the largest (the fixed stars) was spangled--the seventh (the sun) was brightest--the eighth (the moon) shone by the light of the seventh--the second and fifth (saturn and mercury) were most like one another and yellower than the eighth--the third (jupiter) had the whitest light--the fourth (mars) was red--the sixth (venus) was in whiteness second. the whole had one motion, but while this was revolving in one direction the seven inner circles were moving in the opposite, with various degrees of swiftness and slowness. the spindle turned on the knees of necessity, and a siren stood hymning upon each circle, while lachesis, clotho, and atropos, the daughters of necessity, sat on thrones at equal intervals, singing of past, present, and future, responsive to the music of the sirens; clotho from time to time guiding the outer circle with a touch of her right hand; atropos with her left hand touching and guiding the inner circles; lachesis in turn putting forth her hand from time to time to guide both of them. on their arrival the pilgrims went to lachesis, and there was an interpreter who arranged them, and taking from her knees lots, and samples of lives, got up into a pulpit and said: 'mortal souls, hear the words of lachesis, the daughter of necessity. a new period of mortal life has begun, and you may choose what divinity you please; the responsibility of choosing is with you--god is blameless.' after speaking thus, he cast the lots among them and each one took up the lot which fell near him. he then placed on the ground before them the samples of lives, many more than the souls present; and there were all sorts of lives, of men and of animals. there were tyrannies ending in misery and exile, and lives of men and women famous for their different qualities; and also mixed lives, made up of wealth and poverty, sickness and health. here, glaucon, is the great risk of human life, and therefore the whole of education should be directed to the acquisition of such a knowledge as will teach a man to refuse the evil and choose the good. he should know all the combinations which occur in life--of beauty with poverty or with wealth,--of knowledge with external goods,--and at last choose with reference to the nature of the soul, regarding that only as the better life which makes men better, and leaving the rest. and a man must take with him an iron sense of truth and right into the world below, that there too he may remain undazzled by wealth or the allurements of evil, and be determined to avoid the extremes and choose the mean. for this, as the messenger reported the interpreter to have said, is the true happiness of man; and any one, as he proclaimed, may, if he choose with understanding, have a good lot, even though he come last. 'let not the first be careless in his choice, nor the last despair.' he spoke; and when he had spoken, he who had drawn the first lot chose a tyranny: he did not see that he was fated to devour his own children--and when he discovered his mistake, he wept and beat his breast, blaming chance and the gods and anybody rather than himself. he was one of those who had come from heaven, and in his previous life had been a citizen of a well-ordered state, but he had only habit and no philosophy. like many another, he made a bad choice, because he had no experience of life; whereas those who came from earth and had seen trouble were not in such a hurry to choose. but if a man had followed philosophy while upon earth, and had been moderately fortunate in his lot, he might not only be happy here, but his pilgrimage both from and to this world would be smooth and heavenly. nothing was more curious than the spectacle of the choice, at once sad and laughable and wonderful; most of the souls only seeking to avoid their own condition in a previous life. he saw the soul of orpheus changing into a swan because he would not be born of a woman; there was thamyras becoming a nightingale; musical birds, like the swan, choosing to be men; the twentieth soul, which was that of ajax, preferring the life of a lion to that of a man, in remembrance of the injustice which was done to him in the judgment of the arms; and agamemnon, from a like enmity to human nature, passing into an eagle. about the middle was the soul of atalanta choosing the honours of an athlete, and next to her epeus taking the nature of a workwoman; among the last was thersites, who was changing himself into a monkey. thither, the last of all, came odysseus, and sought the lot of a private man, which lay neglected and despised, and when he found it he went away rejoicing, and said that if he had been first instead of last, his choice would have been the same. men, too, were seen passing into animals, and wild and tame animals changing into one another. when all the souls had chosen they went to lachesis, who sent with each of them their genius or attendant to fulfil their lot. he first of all brought them under the hand of clotho, and drew them within the revolution of the spindle impelled by her hand; from her they were carried to atropos, who made the threads irreversible; whence, without turning round, they passed beneath the throne of necessity; and when they had all passed, they moved on in scorching heat to the plain of forgetfulness and rested at evening by the river unmindful, whose water could not be retained in any vessel; of this they had all to drink a certain quantity--some of them drank more than was required, and he who drank forgot all things. er himself was prevented from drinking. when they had gone to rest, about the middle of the night there were thunderstorms and earthquakes, and suddenly they were all driven divers ways, shooting like stars to their birth. concerning his return to the body, he only knew that awaking suddenly in the morning he found himself lying on the pyre. thus, glaucon, the tale has been saved, and will be our salvation, if we believe that the soul is immortal, and hold fast to the heavenly way of justice and knowledge. so shall we pass undefiled over the river of forgetfulness, and be dear to ourselves and to the gods, and have a crown of reward and happiness both in this world and also in the millennial pilgrimage of the other. the tenth book of the republic of plato falls into two divisions: first, resuming an old thread which has been interrupted, socrates assails the poets, who, now that the nature of the soul has been analyzed, are seen to be very far gone from the truth; and secondly, having shown the reality of the happiness of the just, he demands that appearance shall be restored to him, and then proceeds to prove the immortality of the soul. the argument, as in the phaedo and gorgias, is supplemented by the vision of a future life. why plato, who was himself a poet, and whose dialogues are poems and dramas, should have been hostile to the poets as a class, and especially to the dramatic poets; why he should not have seen that truth may be embodied in verse as well as in prose, and that there are some indefinable lights and shadows of human life which can only be expressed in poetry--some elements of imagination which always entwine with reason; why he should have supposed epic verse to be inseparably associated with the impurities of the old hellenic mythology; why he should try homer and hesiod by the unfair and prosaic test of utility,--are questions which have always been debated amongst students of plato. though unable to give a complete answer to them, we may show--first, that his views arose naturally out of the circumstances of his age; and secondly, we may elicit the truth as well as the error which is contained in them. he is the enemy of the poets because poetry was declining in his own lifetime, and a theatrocracy, as he says in the laws, had taken the place of an intellectual aristocracy. euripides exhibited the last phase of the tragic drama, and in him plato saw the friend and apologist of tyrants, and the sophist of tragedy. the old comedy was almost extinct; the new had not yet arisen. dramatic and lyric poetry, like every other branch of greek literature, was falling under the power of rhetoric. there was no 'second or third' to aeschylus and sophocles in the generation which followed them. aristophanes, in one of his later comedies (frogs), speaks of 'thousands of tragedy-making prattlers,' whose attempts at poetry he compares to the chirping of swallows; 'their garrulity went far beyond euripides,'--'they appeared once upon the stage, and there was an end of them.' to a man of genius who had a real appreciation of the godlike aeschylus and the noble and gentle sophocles, though disagreeing with some parts of their 'theology' (rep.), these 'minor poets' must have been contemptible and intolerable. there is no feeling stronger in the dialogues of plato than a sense of the decline and decay both in literature and in politics which marked his own age. nor can he have been expected to look with favour on the licence of aristophanes, now at the end of his career, who had begun by satirizing socrates in the clouds, and in a similar spirit forty years afterwards had satirized the founders of ideal commonwealths in his eccleziazusae, or female parliament (laws). there were other reasons for the antagonism of plato to poetry. the profession of an actor was regarded by him as a degradation of human nature, for 'one man in his life' cannot 'play many parts;' the characters which the actor performs seem to destroy his own character, and to leave nothing which can be truly called himself. neither can any man live his life and act it. the actor is the slave of his art, not the master of it. taking this view plato is more decided in his expulsion of the dramatic than of the epic poets, though he must have known that the greek tragedians afforded noble lessons and examples of virtue and patriotism, to which nothing in homer can be compared. but great dramatic or even great rhetorical power is hardly consistent with firmness or strength of mind, and dramatic talent is often incidentally associated with a weak or dissolute character. in the tenth book plato introduces a new series of objections. first, he says that the poet or painter is an imitator, and in the third degree removed from the truth. his creations are not tested by rule and measure; they are only appearances. in modern times we should say that art is not merely imitation, but rather the expression of the ideal in forms of sense. even adopting the humble image of plato, from which his argument derives a colour, we should maintain that the artist may ennoble the bed which he paints by the folds of the drapery, or by the feeling of home which he introduces; and there have been modern painters who have imparted such an ideal interest to a blacksmith's or a carpenter's shop. the eye or mind which feels as well as sees can give dignity and pathos to a ruined mill, or a straw-built shed (rembrandt), to the hull of a vessel 'going to its last home' (turner). still more would this apply to the greatest works of art, which seem to be the visible embodiment of the divine. had plato been asked whether the zeus or athene of pheidias was the imitation of an imitation only, would he not have been compelled to admit that something more was to be found in them than in the form of any mortal; and that the rule of proportion to which they conformed was 'higher far than any geometry or arithmetic could express?' (statesman.) again, plato objects to the imitative arts that they express the emotional rather than the rational part of human nature. he does not admit aristotle's theory, that tragedy or other serious imitations are a purgation of the passions by pity and fear; to him they appear only to afford the opportunity of indulging them. yet we must acknowledge that we may sometimes cure disordered emotions by giving expression to them; and that they often gain strength when pent up within our own breast. it is not every indulgence of the feelings which is to be condemned. for there may be a gratification of the higher as well as of the lower--thoughts which are too deep or too sad to be expressed by ourselves, may find an utterance in the words of poets. every one would acknowledge that there have been times when they were consoled and elevated by beautiful music or by the sublimity of architecture or by the peacefulness of nature. plato has himself admitted, in the earlier part of the republic, that the arts might have the effect of harmonizing as well as of enervating the mind; but in the tenth book he regards them through a stoic or puritan medium. he asks only 'what good have they done?' and is not satisfied with the reply, that 'they have given innocent pleasure to mankind.' he tells us that he rejoices in the banishment of the poets, since he has found by the analysis of the soul that they are concerned with the inferior faculties. he means to say that the higher faculties have to do with universals, the lower with particulars of sense. the poets are on a level with their own age, but not on a level with socrates and plato; and he was well aware that homer and hesiod could not be made a rule of life by any process of legitimate interpretation; his ironical use of them is in fact a denial of their authority; he saw, too, that the poets were not critics--as he says in the apology, 'any one was a better interpreter of their writings than they were themselves. he himself ceased to be a poet when he became a disciple of socrates; though, as he tells us of solon, 'he might have been one of the greatest of them, if he had not been deterred by other pursuits' (tim.) thus from many points of view there is an antagonism between plato and the poets, which was foreshadowed to him in the old quarrel between philosophy and poetry. the poets, as he says in the protagoras, were the sophists of their day; and his dislike of the one class is reflected on the other. he regards them both as the enemies of reasoning and abstraction, though in the case of euripides more with reference to his immoral sentiments about tyrants and the like. for plato is the prophet who 'came into the world to convince men'--first of the fallibility of sense and opinion, and secondly of the reality of abstract ideas. whatever strangeness there may be in modern times in opposing philosophy to poetry, which to us seem to have so many elements in common, the strangeness will disappear if we conceive of poetry as allied to sense, and of philosophy as equivalent to thought and abstraction. unfortunately the very word 'idea,' which to plato is expressive of the most real of all things, is associated in our minds with an element of subjectiveness and unreality. we may note also how he differs from aristotle who declares poetry to be truer than history, for the opposite reason, because it is concerned with universals, not like history, with particulars (poet). the things which are seen are opposed in scripture to the things which are unseen--they are equally opposed in plato to universals and ideas. to him all particulars appear to be floating about in a world of sense; they have a taint of error or even of evil. there is no difficulty in seeing that this is an illusion; for there is no more error or variation in an individual man, horse, bed, etc., than in the class man, horse, bed, etc.; nor is the truth which is displayed in individual instances less certain than that which is conveyed through the medium of ideas. but plato, who is deeply impressed with the real importance of universals as instruments of thought, attributes to them an essential truth which is imaginary and unreal; for universals may be often false and particulars true. had he attained to any clear conception of the individual, which is the synthesis of the universal and the particular; or had he been able to distinguish between opinion and sensation, which the ambiguity of the words (greek) and the like, tended to confuse, he would not have denied truth to the particulars of sense. but the poets are also the representatives of falsehood and feigning in all departments of life and knowledge, like the sophists and rhetoricians of the gorgias and phaedrus; they are the false priests, false prophets, lying spirits, enchanters of the world. there is another count put into the indictment against them by plato, that they are the friends of the tyrant, and bask in the sunshine of his patronage. despotism in all ages has had an apparatus of false ideas and false teachers at its service--in the history of modern europe as well as of greece and rome. for no government of men depends solely upon force; without some corruption of literature and morals--some appeal to the imagination of the masses--some pretence to the favour of heaven--some element of good giving power to evil, tyranny, even for a short time, cannot be maintained. the greek tyrants were not insensible to the importance of awakening in their cause a pseudo-hellenic feeling; they were proud of successes at the olympic games; they were not devoid of the love of literature and art. plato is thinking in the first instance of greek poets who had graced the courts of dionysius or archelaus: and the old spirit of freedom is roused within him at their prostitution of the tragic muse in the praises of tyranny. but his prophetic eye extends beyond them to the false teachers of other ages who are the creatures of the government under which they live. he compares the corruption of his contemporaries with the idea of a perfect society, and gathers up into one mass of evil the evils and errors of mankind; to him they are personified in the rhetoricians, sophists, poets, rulers who deceive and govern the world. a further objection which plato makes to poetry and the imitative arts is that they excite the emotions. here the modern reader will be disposed to introduce a distinction which appears to have escaped him. for the emotions are neither bad nor good in themselves, and are not most likely to be controlled by the attempt to eradicate them, but by the moderate indulgence of them. and the vocation of art is to present thought in the form of feeling, to enlist the feelings on the side of reason, to inspire even for a moment courage or resignation; perhaps to suggest a sense of infinity and eternity in a way which mere language is incapable of attaining. true, the same power which in the purer age of art embodies gods and heroes only, may be made to express the voluptuous image of a corinthian courtezan. but this only shows that art, like other outward things, may be turned to good and also to evil, and is not more closely connected with the higher than with the lower part of the soul. all imitative art is subject to certain limitations, and therefore necessarily partakes of the nature of a compromise. something of ideal truth is sacrificed for the sake of the representation, and something in the exactness of the representation is sacrificed to the ideal. still, works of art have a permanent element; they idealize and detain the passing thought, and are the intermediates between sense and ideas. in the present stage of the human mind, poetry and other forms of fiction may certainly be regarded as a good. but we can also imagine the existence of an age in which a severer conception of truth has either banished or transformed them. at any rate we must admit that they hold a different place at different periods of the world's history. in the infancy of mankind, poetry, with the exception of proverbs, is the whole of literature, and the only instrument of intellectual culture; in modern times she is the shadow or echo of her former self, and appears to have a precarious existence. milton in his day doubted whether an epic poem was any longer possible. at the same time we must remember, that what plato would have called the charms of poetry have been partly transferred to prose; he himself (statesman) admits rhetoric to be the handmaiden of politics, and proposes to find in the strain of law (laws) a substitute for the old poets. among ourselves the creative power seems often to be growing weaker, and scientific fact to be more engrossing and overpowering to the mind than formerly. the illusion of the feelings commonly called love, has hitherto been the inspiring influence of modern poetry and romance, and has exercised a humanizing if not a strengthening influence on the world. but may not the stimulus which love has given to fancy be some day exhausted? the modern english novel which is the most popular of all forms of reading is not more than a century or two old: will the tale of love a hundred years hence, after so many thousand variations of the same theme, be still received with unabated interest? art cannot claim to be on a level with philosophy or religion, and may often corrupt them. it is possible to conceive a mental state in which all artistic representations are regarded as a false and imperfect expression, either of the religious ideal or of the philosophical ideal. the fairest forms may be revolting in certain moods of mind, as is proved by the fact that the mahometans, and many sects of christians, have renounced the use of pictures and images. the beginning of a great religion, whether christian or gentile, has not been 'wood or stone,' but a spirit moving in the hearts of men. the disciples have met in a large upper room or in 'holes and caves of the earth'; in the second or third generation, they have had mosques, temples, churches, monasteries. and the revival or reform of religions, like the first revelation of them, has come from within and has generally disregarded external ceremonies and accompaniments. but poetry and art may also be the expression of the highest truth and the purest sentiment. plato himself seems to waver between two opposite views--when, as in the third book, he insists that youth should be brought up amid wholesome imagery; and again in book x, when he banishes the poets from his republic. admitting that the arts, which some of us almost deify, have fallen short of their higher aim, we must admit on the other hand that to banish imagination wholly would be suicidal as well as impossible. for nature too is a form of art; and a breath of the fresh air or a single glance at the varying landscape would in an instant revive and reillumine the extinguished spark of poetry in the human breast. in the lower stages of civilization imagination more than reason distinguishes man from the animals; and to banish art would be to banish thought, to banish language, to banish the expression of all truth. no religion is wholly devoid of external forms; even the mahometan who renounces the use of pictures and images has a temple in which he worships the most high, as solemn and beautiful as any greek or christian building. feeling too and thought are not really opposed; for he who thinks must feel before he can execute. and the highest thoughts, when they become familiarized to us, are always tending to pass into the form of feeling. plato does not seriously intend to expel poets from life and society. but he feels strongly the unreality of their writings; he is protesting against the degeneracy of poetry in his own day as we might protest against the want of serious purpose in modern fiction, against the unseemliness or extravagance of some of our poets or novelists, against the time-serving of preachers or public writers, against the regardlessness of truth which to the eye of the philosopher seems to characterize the greater part of the world. for we too have reason to complain that our poets and novelists 'paint inferior truth' and 'are concerned with the inferior part of the soul'; that the readers of them become what they read and are injuriously affected by them. and we look in vain for that healthy atmosphere of which plato speaks,--'the beauty which meets the sense like a breeze and imperceptibly draws the soul, even in childhood, into harmony with the beauty of reason.' for there might be a poetry which would be the hymn of divine perfection, the harmony of goodness and truth among men: a strain which should renew the youth of the world, and bring back the ages in which the poet was man's only teacher and best friend,--which would find materials in the living present as well as in the romance of the past, and might subdue to the fairest forms of speech and verse the intractable materials of modern civilisation,--which might elicit the simple principles, or, as plato would have called them, the essential forms, of truth and justice out of the variety of opinion and the complexity of modern society,--which would preserve all the good of each generation and leave the bad unsung,--which should be based not on vain longings or faint imaginings, but on a clear insight into the nature of man. then the tale of love might begin again in poetry or prose, two in one, united in the pursuit of knowledge, or the service of god and man; and feelings of love might still be the incentive to great thoughts and heroic deeds as in the days of dante or petrarch; and many types of manly and womanly beauty might appear among us, rising above the ordinary level of humanity, and many lives which were like poems (laws), be not only written, but lived by us. a few such strains have been heard among men in the tragedies of aeschylus and sophocles, whom plato quotes, not, as homer is quoted by him, in irony, but with deep and serious approval,--in the poetry of milton and wordsworth, and in passages of other english poets,--first and above all in the hebrew prophets and psalmists. shakespeare has taught us how great men should speak and act; he has drawn characters of a wonderful purity and depth; he has ennobled the human mind, but, like homer (rep.), he 'has left no way of life.' the next greatest poet of modern times, goethe, is concerned with 'a lower degree of truth'; he paints the world as a stage on which 'all the men and women are merely players'; he cultivates life as an art, but he furnishes no ideals of truth and action. the poet may rebel against any attempt to set limits to his fancy; and he may argue truly that moralizing in verse is not poetry. possibly, like mephistopheles in faust, he may retaliate on his adversaries. but the philosopher will still be justified in asking, 'how may the heavenly gift of poesy be devoted to the good of mankind?' returning to plato, we may observe that a similar mixture of truth and error appears in other parts of the argument. he is aware of the absurdity of mankind framing their whole lives according to homer; just as in the phaedrus he intimates the absurdity of interpreting mythology upon rational principles; both these were the modern tendencies of his own age, which he deservedly ridicules. on the other hand, his argument that homer, if he had been able to teach mankind anything worth knowing, would not have been allowed by them to go about begging as a rhapsodist, is both false and contrary to the spirit of plato (rep.). it may be compared with those other paradoxes of the gorgias, that 'no statesman was ever unjustly put to death by the city of which he was the head'; and that 'no sophist was ever defrauded by his pupils' (gorg.)... the argument for immortality seems to rest on the absolute dualism of soul and body. admitting the existence of the soul, we know of no force which is able to put an end to her. vice is her own proper evil; and if she cannot be destroyed by that, she cannot be destroyed by any other. yet plato has acknowledged that the soul may be so overgrown by the incrustations of earth as to lose her original form; and in the timaeus he recognizes more strongly than in the republic the influence which the body has over the mind, denying even the voluntariness of human actions, on the ground that they proceed from physical states (tim.). in the republic, as elsewhere, he wavers between the original soul which has to be restored, and the character which is developed by training and education... the vision of another world is ascribed to er, the son of armenius, who is said by clement of alexandria to have been zoroaster. the tale has certainly an oriental character, and may be compared with the pilgrimages of the soul in the zend avesta (haug, avesta). but no trace of acquaintance with zoroaster is found elsewhere in plato's writings, and there is no reason for giving him the name of er the pamphylian. the philosophy of heracleitus cannot be shown to be borrowed from zoroaster, and still less the myths of plato. the local arrangement of the vision is less distinct than that of the phaedrus and phaedo. astronomy is mingled with symbolism and mythology; the great sphere of heaven is represented under the symbol of a cylinder or box, containing the seven orbits of the planets and the fixed stars; this is suspended from an axis or spindle which turns on the knees of necessity; the revolutions of the seven orbits contained in the cylinder are guided by the fates, and their harmonious motion produces the music of the spheres. through the innermost or eighth of these, which is the moon, is passed the spindle; but it is doubtful whether this is the continuation of the column of light, from which the pilgrims contemplate the heavens; the words of plato imply that they are connected, but not the same. the column itself is clearly not of adamant. the spindle (which is of adamant) is fastened to the ends of the chains which extend to the middle of the column of light--this column is said to hold together the heaven; but whether it hangs from the spindle, or is at right angles to it, is not explained. the cylinder containing the orbits of the stars is almost as much a symbol as the figure of necessity turning the spindle;--for the outermost rim is the sphere of the fixed stars, and nothing is said about the intervals of space which divide the paths of the stars in the heavens. the description is both a picture and an orrery, and therefore is necessarily inconsistent with itself. the column of light is not the milky way--which is neither straight, nor like a rainbow--but the imaginary axis of the earth. this is compared to the rainbow in respect not of form but of colour, and not to the undergirders of a trireme, but to the straight rope running from prow to stern in which the undergirders meet. the orrery or picture of the heavens given in the republic differs in its mode of representation from the circles of the same and of the other in the timaeus. in both the fixed stars are distinguished from the planets, and they move in orbits without them, although in an opposite direction: in the republic as in the timaeus they are all moving round the axis of the world. but we are not certain that in the former they are moving round the earth. no distinct mention is made in the republic of the circles of the same and other; although both in the timaeus and in the republic the motion of the fixed stars is supposed to coincide with the motion of the whole. the relative thickness of the rims is perhaps designed to express the relative distances of the planets. plato probably intended to represent the earth, from which er and his companions are viewing the heavens, as stationary in place; but whether or not herself revolving, unless this is implied in the revolution of the axis, is uncertain (timaeus). the spectator may be supposed to look at the heavenly bodies, either from above or below. the earth is a sort of earth and heaven in one, like the heaven of the phaedrus, on the back of which the spectator goes out to take a peep at the stars and is borne round in the revolution. there is no distinction between the equator and the ecliptic. but plato is no doubt led to imagine that the planets have an opposite motion to that of the fixed stars, in order to account for their appearances in the heavens. in the description of the meadow, and the retribution of the good and evil after death, there are traces of homer. the description of the axis as a spindle, and of the heavenly bodies as forming a whole, partly arises out of the attempt to connect the motions of the heavenly bodies with the mythological image of the web, or weaving of the fates. the giving of the lots, the weaving of them, and the making of them irreversible, which are ascribed to the three fates--lachesis, clotho, atropos, are obviously derived from their names. the element of chance in human life is indicated by the order of the lots. but chance, however adverse, may be overcome by the wisdom of man, if he knows how to choose aright; there is a worse enemy to man than chance; this enemy is himself. he who was moderately fortunate in the number of the lot--even the very last comer--might have a good life if he chose with wisdom. and as plato does not like to make an assertion which is unproven, he more than confirms this statement a few sentences afterwards by the example of odysseus, who chose last. but the virtue which is founded on habit is not sufficient to enable a man to choose; he must add to virtue knowledge, if he is to act rightly when placed in new circumstances. the routine of good actions and good habits is an inferior sort of goodness; and, as coleridge says, 'common sense is intolerable which is not based on metaphysics,' so plato would have said, 'habit is worthless which is not based upon philosophy.' the freedom of the will to refuse the evil and to choose the good is distinctly asserted. 'virtue is free, and as a man honours or dishonours her he will have more or less of her.' the life of man is 'rounded' by necessity; there are circumstances prior to birth which affect him (pol.). but within the walls of necessity there is an open space in which he is his own master, and can study for himself the effects which the variously compounded gifts of nature or fortune have upon the soul, and act accordingly. all men cannot have the first choice in everything. but the lot of all men is good enough, if they choose wisely and will live diligently. the verisimilitude which is given to the pilgrimage of a thousand years, by the intimation that ardiaeus had lived a thousand years before; the coincidence of er coming to life on the twelfth day after he was supposed to have been dead with the seven days which the pilgrims passed in the meadow, and the four days during which they journeyed to the column of light; the precision with which the soul is mentioned who chose the twentieth lot; the passing remarks that there was no definite character among the souls, and that the souls which had chosen ill blamed any one rather than themselves; or that some of the souls drank more than was necessary of the waters of forgetfulness, while er himself was hindered from drinking; the desire of odysseus to rest at last, unlike the conception of him in dante and tennyson; the feigned ignorance of how er returned to the body, when the other souls went shooting like stars to their birth,--add greatly to the probability of the narrative. they are such touches of nature as the art of defoe might have introduced when he wished to win credibility for marvels and apparitions. ***** there still remain to be considered some points which have been intentionally reserved to the end: ( ) the janus-like character of the republic, which presents two faces--one an hellenic state, the other a kingdom of philosophers. connected with the latter of the two aspects are ( ) the paradoxes of the republic, as they have been termed by morgenstern: (a) the community of property; (b) of families; (c) the rule of philosophers; (d) the analogy of the individual and the state, which, like some other analogies in the republic, is carried too far. we may then proceed to consider ( ) the subject of education as conceived by plato, bringing together in a general view the education of youth and the education of after-life; ( ) we may note further some essential differences between ancient and modern politics which are suggested by the republic; ( ) we may compare the politicus and the laws; ( ) we may observe the influence exercised by plato on his imitators; and ( ) take occasion to consider the nature and value of political, and ( ) of religious ideals. . plato expressly says that he is intending to found an hellenic state (book v). many of his regulations are characteristically spartan; such as the prohibition of gold and silver, the common meals of the men, the military training of the youth, the gymnastic exercises of the women. the life of sparta was the life of a camp (laws), enforced even more rigidly in time of peace than in war; the citizens of sparta, like plato's, were forbidden to trade--they were to be soldiers and not shopkeepers. nowhere else in greece was the individual so completely subjected to the state; the time when he was to marry, the education of his children, the clothes which he was to wear, the food which he was to eat, were all prescribed by law. some of the best enactments in the republic, such as the reverence to be paid to parents and elders, and some of the worst, such as the exposure of deformed children, are borrowed from the practice of sparta. the encouragement of friendships between men and youths, or of men with one another, as affording incentives to bravery, is also spartan; in sparta too a nearer approach was made than in any other greek state to equality of the sexes, and to community of property; and while there was probably less of licentiousness in the sense of immorality, the tie of marriage was regarded more lightly than in the rest of greece. the 'suprema lex' was the preservation of the family, and the interest of the state. the coarse strength of a military government was not favourable to purity and refinement; and the excessive strictness of some regulations seems to have produced a reaction. of all hellenes the spartans were most accessible to bribery; several of the greatest of them might be described in the words of plato as having a 'fierce secret longing after gold and silver.' though not in the strict sense communists, the principle of communism was maintained among them in their division of lands, in their common meals, in their slaves, and in the free use of one another's goods. marriage was a public institution: and the women were educated by the state, and sang and danced in public with the men. many traditions were preserved at sparta of the severity with which the magistrates had maintained the primitive rule of music and poetry; as in the republic of plato, the new-fangled poet was to be expelled. hymns to the gods, which are the only kind of music admitted into the ideal state, were the only kind which was permitted at sparta. the spartans, though an unpoetical race, were nevertheless lovers of poetry; they had been stirred by the elegiac strains of tyrtaeus, they had crowded around hippias to hear his recitals of homer; but in this they resembled the citizens of the timocratic rather than of the ideal state. the council of elder men also corresponds to the spartan gerousia; and the freedom with which they are permitted to judge about matters of detail agrees with what we are told of that institution. once more, the military rule of not spoiling the dead or offering arms at the temples; the moderation in the pursuit of enemies; the importance attached to the physical well-being of the citizens; the use of warfare for the sake of defence rather than of aggression--are features probably suggested by the spirit and practice of sparta. to the spartan type the ideal state reverts in the first decline; and the character of the individual timocrat is borrowed from the spartan citizen. the love of lacedaemon not only affected plato and xenophon, but was shared by many undistinguished athenians; there they seemed to find a principle which was wanting in their own democracy. the (greek) of the spartans attracted them, that is to say, not the goodness of their laws, but the spirit of order and loyalty which prevailed. fascinated by the idea, citizens of athens would imitate the lacedaemonians in their dress and manners; they were known to the contemporaries of plato as 'the persons who had their ears bruised,' like the roundheads of the commonwealth. the love of another church or country when seen at a distance only, the longing for an imaginary simplicity in civilized times, the fond desire of a past which never has been, or of a future which never will be,--these are aspirations of the human mind which are often felt among ourselves. such feelings meet with a response in the republic of plato. but there are other features of the platonic republic, as, for example, the literary and philosophical education, and the grace and beauty of life, which are the reverse of spartan. plato wishes to give his citizens a taste of athenian freedom as well as of lacedaemonian discipline. his individual genius is purely athenian, although in theory he is a lover of sparta; and he is something more than either--he has also a true hellenic feeling. he is desirous of humanizing the wars of hellenes against one another; he acknowledges that the delphian god is the grand hereditary interpreter of all hellas. the spirit of harmony and the dorian mode are to prevail, and the whole state is to have an external beauty which is the reflex of the harmony within. but he has not yet found out the truth which he afterwards enunciated in the laws--that he was a better legislator who made men to be of one mind, than he who trained them for war. the citizens, as in other hellenic states, democratic as well as aristocratic, are really an upper class; for, although no mention is made of slaves, the lower classes are allowed to fade away into the distance, and are represented in the individual by the passions. plato has no idea either of a social state in which all classes are harmonized, or of a federation of hellas or the world in which different nations or states have a place. his city is equipped for war rather than for peace, and this would seem to be justified by the ordinary condition of hellenic states. the myth of the earth-born men is an embodiment of the orthodox tradition of hellas, and the allusion to the four ages of the world is also sanctioned by the authority of hesiod and the poets. thus we see that the republic is partly founded on the ideal of the old greek polis, partly on the actual circumstances of hellas in that age. plato, like the old painters, retains the traditional form, and like them he has also a vision of a city in the clouds. there is yet another thread which is interwoven in the texture of the work; for the republic is not only a dorian state, but a pythagorean league. the 'way of life' which was connected with the name of pythagoras, like the catholic monastic orders, showed the power which the mind of an individual might exercise over his contemporaries, and may have naturally suggested to plato the possibility of reviving such 'mediaeval institutions.' the pythagoreans, like plato, enforced a rule of life and a moral and intellectual training. the influence ascribed to music, which to us seems exaggerated, is also a pythagorean feature; it is not to be regarded as representing the real influence of music in the greek world. more nearly than any other government of hellas, the pythagorean league of three hundred was an aristocracy of virtue. for once in the history of mankind the philosophy of order or (greek), expressing and consequently enlisting on its side the combined endeavours of the better part of the people, obtained the management of public affairs and held possession of it for a considerable time (until about b.c. ). probably only in states prepared by dorian institutions would such a league have been possible. the rulers, like plato's (greek), were required to submit to a severe training in order to prepare the way for the education of the other members of the community. long after the dissolution of the order, eminent pythagoreans, such as archytas of tarentum, retained their political influence over the cities of magna graecia. there was much here that was suggestive to the kindred spirit of plato, who had doubtless meditated deeply on the 'way of life of pythagoras' (rep.) and his followers. slight traces of pythagoreanism are to be found in the mystical number of the state, in the number which expresses the interval between the king and the tyrant, in the doctrine of transmigration, in the music of the spheres, as well as in the great though secondary importance ascribed to mathematics in education. but as in his philosophy, so also in the form of his state, he goes far beyond the old pythagoreans. he attempts a task really impossible, which is to unite the past of greek history with the future of philosophy, analogous to that other impossibility, which has often been the dream of christendom, the attempt to unite the past history of europe with the kingdom of christ. nothing actually existing in the world at all resembles plato's ideal state; nor does he himself imagine that such a state is possible. this he repeats again and again; e.g. in the republic, or in the laws where, casting a glance back on the republic, he admits that the perfect state of communism and philosophy was impossible in his own age, though still to be retained as a pattern. the same doubt is implied in the earnestness with which he argues in the republic that ideals are none the worse because they cannot be realized in fact, and in the chorus of laughter, which like a breaking wave will, as he anticipates, greet the mention of his proposals; though like other writers of fiction, he uses all his art to give reality to his inventions. when asked how the ideal polity can come into being, he answers ironically, 'when one son of a king becomes a philosopher'; he designates the fiction of the earth-born men as 'a noble lie'; and when the structure is finally complete, he fairly tells you that his republic is a vision only, which in some sense may have reality, but not in the vulgar one of a reign of philosophers upon earth. it has been said that plato flies as well as walks, but this falls short of the truth; for he flies and walks at the same time, and is in the air and on firm ground in successive instants. niebuhr has asked a trifling question, which may be briefly noticed in this place--was plato a good citizen? if by this is meant, was he loyal to athenian institutions?--he can hardly be said to be the friend of democracy: but neither is he the friend of any other existing form of government; all of them he regarded as 'states of faction' (laws); none attained to his ideal of a voluntary rule over voluntary subjects, which seems indeed more nearly to describe democracy than any other; and the worst of them is tyranny. the truth is, that the question has hardly any meaning when applied to a great philosopher whose writings are not meant for a particular age and country, but for all time and all mankind. the decline of athenian politics was probably the motive which led plato to frame an ideal state, and the republic may be regarded as reflecting the departing glory of hellas. as well might we complain of st. augustine, whose great work 'the city of god' originated in a similar motive, for not being loyal to the roman empire. even a nearer parallel might be afforded by the first christians, who cannot fairly be charged with being bad citizens because, though 'subject to the higher powers,' they were looking forward to a city which is in heaven. . the idea of the perfect state is full of paradox when judged of according to the ordinary notions of mankind. the paradoxes of one age have been said to become the commonplaces of the next; but the paradoxes of plato are at least as paradoxical to us as they were to his contemporaries. the modern world has either sneered at them as absurd, or denounced them as unnatural and immoral; men have been pleased to find in aristotle's criticisms of them the anticipation of their own good sense. the wealthy and cultivated classes have disliked and also dreaded them; they have pointed with satisfaction to the failure of efforts to realize them in practice. yet since they are the thoughts of one of the greatest of human intelligences, and of one who had done most to elevate morality and religion, they seem to deserve a better treatment at our hands. we may have to address the public, as plato does poetry, and assure them that we mean no harm to existing institutions. there are serious errors which have a side of truth and which therefore may fairly demand a careful consideration: there are truths mixed with error of which we may indeed say, 'the half is better than the whole.' yet 'the half' may be an important contribution to the study of human nature. (a) the first paradox is the community of goods, which is mentioned slightly at the end of the third book, and seemingly, as aristotle observes, is confined to the guardians; at least no mention is made of the other classes. but the omission is not of any real significance, and probably arises out of the plan of the work, which prevents the writer from entering into details. aristotle censures the community of property much in the spirit of modern political economy, as tending to repress industry, and as doing away with the spirit of benevolence. modern writers almost refuse to consider the subject, which is supposed to have been long ago settled by the common opinion of mankind. but it must be remembered that the sacredness of property is a notion far more fixed in modern than in ancient times. the world has grown older, and is therefore more conservative. primitive society offered many examples of land held in common, either by a tribe or by a township, and such may probably have been the original form of landed tenure. ancient legislators had invented various modes of dividing and preserving the divisions of land among the citizens; according to aristotle there were nations who held the land in common and divided the produce, and there were others who divided the land and stored the produce in common. the evils of debt and the inequality of property were far greater in ancient than in modern times, and the accidents to which property was subject from war, or revolution, or taxation, or other legislative interference, were also greater. all these circumstances gave property a less fixed and sacred character. the early christians are believed to have held their property in common, and the principle is sanctioned by the words of christ himself, and has been maintained as a counsel of perfection in almost all ages of the church. nor have there been wanting instances of modern enthusiasts who have made a religion of communism; in every age of religious excitement notions like wycliffe's 'inheritance of grace' have tended to prevail. a like spirit, but fiercer and more violent, has appeared in politics. 'the preparation of the gospel of peace' soon becomes the red flag of republicanism. we can hardly judge what effect plato's views would have upon his own contemporaries; they would perhaps have seemed to them only an exaggeration of the spartan commonwealth. even modern writers would acknowledge that the right of private property is based on expediency, and may be interfered with in a variety of ways for the public good. any other mode of vesting property which was found to be more advantageous, would in time acquire the same basis of right; 'the most useful,' in plato's words, 'would be the most sacred.' the lawyers and ecclesiastics of former ages would have spoken of property as a sacred institution. but they only meant by such language to oppose the greatest amount of resistance to any invasion of the rights of individuals and of the church. when we consider the question, without any fear of immediate application to practice, in the spirit of plato's republic, are we quite sure that the received notions of property are the best? is the distribution of wealth which is customary in civilized countries the most favourable that can be conceived for the education and development of the mass of mankind? can 'the spectator of all time and all existence' be quite convinced that one or two thousand years hence, great changes will not have taken place in the rights of property, or even that the very notion of property, beyond what is necessary for personal maintenance, may not have disappeared? this was a distinction familiar to aristotle, though likely to be laughed at among ourselves. such a change would not be greater than some other changes through which the world has passed in the transition from ancient to modern society, for example, the emancipation of the serfs in russia, or the abolition of slavery in america and the west indies; and not so great as the difference which separates the eastern village community from the western world. to accomplish such a revolution in the course of a few centuries, would imply a rate of progress not more rapid than has actually taken place during the last fifty or sixty years. the kingdom of japan underwent more change in five or six years than europe in five or six hundred. many opinions and beliefs which have been cherished among ourselves quite as strongly as the sacredness of property have passed away; and the most untenable propositions respecting the right of bequests or entail have been maintained with as much fervour as the most moderate. some one will be heard to ask whether a state of society can be final in which the interests of thousands are perilled on the life or character of a single person. and many will indulge the hope that our present condition may, after all, be only transitional, and may conduct to a higher, in which property, besides ministering to the enjoyment of the few, may also furnish the means of the highest culture to all, and will be a greater benefit to the public generally, and also more under the control of public authority. there may come a time when the saying, 'have i not a right to do what i will with my own?' will appear to be a barbarous relic of individualism;--when the possession of a part may be a greater blessing to each and all than the possession of the whole is now to any one. such reflections appear visionary to the eye of the practical statesman, but they are within the range of possibility to the philosopher. he can imagine that in some distant age or clime, and through the influence of some individual, the notion of common property may or might have sunk as deep into the heart of a race, and have become as fixed to them, as private property is to ourselves. he knows that this latter institution is not more than four or five thousand years old: may not the end revert to the beginning? in our own age even utopias affect the spirit of legislation, and an abstract idea may exercise a great influence on practical politics. the objections that would be generally urged against plato's community of property, are the old ones of aristotle, that motives for exertion would be taken away, and that disputes would arise when each was dependent upon all. every man would produce as little and consume as much as he liked. the experience of civilized nations has hitherto been adverse to socialism. the effort is too great for human nature; men try to live in common, but the personal feeling is always breaking in. on the other hand it may be doubted whether our present notions of property are not conventional, for they differ in different countries and in different states of society. we boast of an individualism which is not freedom, but rather an artificial result of the industrial state of modern europe. the individual is nominally free, but he is also powerless in a world bound hand and foot in the chains of economic necessity. even if we cannot expect the mass of mankind to become disinterested, at any rate we observe in them a power of organization which fifty years ago would never have been suspected. the same forces which have revolutionized the political system of europe, may effect a similar change in the social and industrial relations of mankind. and if we suppose the influence of some good as well as neutral motives working in the community, there will be no absurdity in expecting that the mass of mankind having power, and becoming enlightened about the higher possibilities of human life, when they learn how much more is attainable for all than is at present the possession of a favoured few, may pursue the common interest with an intelligence and persistency which mankind have hitherto never seen. now that the world has once been set in motion, and is no longer held fast under the tyranny of custom and ignorance; now that criticism has pierced the veil of tradition and the past no longer overpowers the present,--the progress of civilization may be expected to be far greater and swifter than heretofore. even at our present rate of speed the point at which we may arrive in two or three generations is beyond the power of imagination to foresee. there are forces in the world which work, not in an arithmetical, but in a geometrical ratio of increase. education, to use the expression of plato, moves like a wheel with an ever-multiplying rapidity. nor can we say how great may be its influence, when it becomes universal,--when it has been inherited by many generations,--when it is freed from the trammels of superstition and rightly adapted to the wants and capacities of different classes of men and women. neither do we know how much more the co-operation of minds or of hands may be capable of accomplishing, whether in labour or in study. the resources of the natural sciences are not half-developed as yet; the soil of the earth, instead of growing more barren, may become many times more fertile than hitherto; the uses of machinery far greater, and also more minute than at present. new secrets of physiology may be revealed, deeply affecting human nature in its innermost recesses. the standard of health may be raised and the lives of men prolonged by sanitary and medical knowledge. there may be peace, there may be leisure, there may be innocent refreshments of many kinds. the ever-increasing power of locomotion may join the extremes of earth. there may be mysterious workings of the human mind, such as occur only at great crises of history. the east and the west may meet together, and all nations may contribute their thoughts and their experience to the common stock of humanity. many other elements enter into a speculation of this kind. but it is better to make an end of them. for such reflections appear to the majority far-fetched, and to men of science, commonplace. (b) neither to the mind of plato nor of aristotle did the doctrine of community of property present at all the same difficulty, or appear to be the same violation of the common hellenic sentiment, as the community of wives and children. this paradox he prefaces by another proposal, that the occupations of men and women shall be the same, and that to this end they shall have a common training and education. male and female animals have the same pursuits--why not also the two sexes of man? but have we not here fallen into a contradiction? for we were saying that different natures should have different pursuits. how then can men and women have the same? and is not the proposal inconsistent with our notion of the division of labour?--these objections are no sooner raised than answered; for, according to plato, there is no organic difference between men and women, but only the accidental one that men beget and women bear children. following the analogy of the other animals, he contends that all natural gifts are scattered about indifferently among both sexes, though there may be a superiority of degree on the part of the men. the objection on the score of decency to their taking part in the same gymnastic exercises, is met by plato's assertion that the existing feeling is a matter of habit. that plato should have emancipated himself from the ideas of his own country and from the example of the east, shows a wonderful independence of mind. he is conscious that women are half the human race, in some respects the more important half (laws); and for the sake both of men and women he desires to raise the woman to a higher level of existence. he brings, not sentiment, but philosophy to bear upon a question which both in ancient and modern times has been chiefly regarded in the light of custom or feeling. the greeks had noble conceptions of womanhood in the goddesses athene and artemis, and in the heroines antigone and andromache. but these ideals had no counterpart in actual life. the athenian woman was in no way the equal of her husband; she was not the entertainer of his guests or the mistress of his house, but only his housekeeper and the mother of his children. she took no part in military or political matters; nor is there any instance in the later ages of greece of a woman becoming famous in literature. 'hers is the greatest glory who has the least renown among men,' is the historian's conception of feminine excellence. a very different ideal of womanhood is held up by plato to the world; she is to be the companion of the man, and to share with him in the toils of war and in the cares of government. she is to be similarly trained both in bodily and mental exercises. she is to lose as far as possible the incidents of maternity and the characteristics of the female sex. the modern antagonist of the equality of the sexes would argue that the differences between men and women are not confined to the single point urged by plato; that sensibility, gentleness, grace, are the qualities of women, while energy, strength, higher intelligence, are to be looked for in men. and the criticism is just: the differences affect the whole nature, and are not, as plato supposes, confined to a single point. but neither can we say how far these differences are due to education and the opinions of mankind, or physically inherited from the habits and opinions of former generations. women have been always taught, not exactly that they are slaves, but that they are in an inferior position, which is also supposed to have compensating advantages; and to this position they have conformed. it is also true that the physical form may easily change in the course of generations through the mode of life; and the weakness or delicacy, which was once a matter of opinion, may become a physical fact. the characteristics of sex vary greatly in different countries and ranks of society, and at different ages in the same individuals. plato may have been right in denying that there was any ultimate difference in the sexes of man other than that which exists in animals, because all other differences may be conceived to disappear in other states of society, or under different circumstances of life and training. the first wave having been passed, we proceed to the second--community of wives and children. 'is it possible? is it desirable?' for as glaucon intimates, and as we far more strongly insist, 'great doubts may be entertained about both these points.' any free discussion of the question is impossible, and mankind are perhaps right in not allowing the ultimate bases of social life to be examined. few of us can safely enquire into the things which nature hides, any more than we can dissect our own bodies. still, the manner in which plato arrived at his conclusions should be considered. for here, as mr. grote has remarked, is a wonderful thing, that one of the wisest and best of men should have entertained ideas of morality which are wholly at variance with our own. and if we would do plato justice, we must examine carefully the character of his proposals. first, we may observe that the relations of the sexes supposed by him are the reverse of licentious: he seems rather to aim at an impossible strictness. secondly, he conceives the family to be the natural enemy of the state; and he entertains the serious hope that an universal brotherhood may take the place of private interests--an aspiration which, although not justified by experience, has possessed many noble minds. on the other hand, there is no sentiment or imagination in the connections which men and women are supposed by him to form; human beings return to the level of the animals, neither exalting to heaven, nor yet abusing the natural instincts. all that world of poetry and fancy which the passion of love has called forth in modern literature and romance would have been banished by plato. the arrangements of marriage in the republic are directed to one object--the improvement of the race. in successive generations a great development both of bodily and mental qualities might be possible. the analogy of animals tends to show that mankind can within certain limits receive a change of nature. and as in animals we should commonly choose the best for breeding, and destroy the others, so there must be a selection made of the human beings whose lives are worthy to be preserved. we start back horrified from this platonic ideal, in the belief, first, that the higher feelings of humanity are far too strong to be crushed out; secondly, that if the plan could be carried into execution we should be poorly recompensed by improvements in the breed for the loss of the best things in life. the greatest regard for the weakest and meanest of human beings--the infant, the criminal, the insane, the idiot, truly seems to us one of the noblest results of christianity. we have learned, though as yet imperfectly, that the individual man has an endless value in the sight of god, and that we honour him when we honour the darkened and disfigured image of him (laws). this is the lesson which christ taught in a parable when he said, 'their angels do always behold the face of my father which is in heaven.' such lessons are only partially realized in any age; they were foreign to the age of plato, as they have very different degrees of strength in different countries or ages of the christian world. to the greek the family was a religious and customary institution binding the members together by a tie inferior in strength to that of friendship, and having a less solemn and sacred sound than that of country. the relationship which existed on the lower level of custom, plato imagined that he was raising to the higher level of nature and reason; while from the modern and christian point of view we regard him as sanctioning murder and destroying the first principles of morality. the great error in these and similar speculations is that the difference between man and the animals is forgotten in them. the human being is regarded with the eye of a dog- or bird-fancier, or at best of a slave-owner; the higher or human qualities are left out. the breeder of animals aims chiefly at size or speed or strength; in a few cases at courage or temper; most often the fitness of the animal for food is the great desideratum. but mankind are not bred to be eaten, nor yet for their superiority in fighting or in running or in drawing carts. neither does the improvement of the human race consist merely in the increase of the bones and flesh, but in the growth and enlightenment of the mind. hence there must be 'a marriage of true minds' as well as of bodies, of imagination and reason as well as of lusts and instincts. men and women without feeling or imagination are justly called brutes; yet plato takes away these qualities and puts nothing in their place, not even the desire of a noble offspring, since parents are not to know their own children. the most important transaction of social life, he who is the idealist philosopher converts into the most brutal. for the pair are to have no relation to one another, except at the hymeneal festival; their children are not theirs, but the state's; nor is any tie of affection to unite them. yet here the analogy of the animals might have saved plato from a gigantic error, if he had 'not lost sight of his own illustration.' for the 'nobler sort of birds and beasts' nourish and protect their offspring and are faithful to one another. an eminent physiologist thinks it worth while 'to try and place life on a physical basis.' but should not life rest on the moral rather than upon the physical? the higher comes first, then the lower, first the human and rational, afterwards the animal. yet they are not absolutely divided; and in times of sickness or moments of self-indulgence they seem to be only different aspects of a common human nature which includes them both. neither is the moral the limit of the physical, but the expansion and enlargement of it,--the highest form which the physical is capable of receiving. as plato would say, the body does not take care of the body, and still less of the mind, but the mind takes care of both. in all human action not that which is common to man and the animals is the characteristic element, but that which distinguishes him from them. even if we admit the physical basis, and resolve all virtue into health of body 'la facon que notre sang circule,' still on merely physical grounds we must come back to ideas. mind and reason and duty and conscience, under these or other names, are always reappearing. there cannot be health of body without health of mind; nor health of mind without the sense of duty and the love of truth (charm). that the greatest of ancient philosophers should in his regulations about marriage have fallen into the error of separating body and mind, does indeed appear surprising. yet the wonder is not so much that plato should have entertained ideas of morality which to our own age are revolting, but that he should have contradicted himself to an extent which is hardly credible, falling in an instant from the heaven of idealism into the crudest animalism. rejoicing in the newly found gift of reflection, he appears to have thought out a subject about which he had better have followed the enlightened feeling of his own age. the general sentiment of hellas was opposed to his monstrous fancy. the old poets, and in later time the tragedians, showed no want of respect for the family, on which much of their religion was based. but the example of sparta, and perhaps in some degree the tendency to defy public opinion, seems to have misled him. he will make one family out of all the families of the state. he will select the finest specimens of men and women and breed from these only. yet because the illusion is always returning (for the animal part of human nature will from time to time assert itself in the disguise of philosophy as well as of poetry), and also because any departure from established morality, even where this is not intended, is apt to be unsettling, it may be worth while to draw out a little more at length the objections to the platonic marriage. in the first place, history shows that wherever polygamy has been largely allowed the race has deteriorated. one man to one woman is the law of god and nature. nearly all the civilized peoples of the world at some period before the age of written records, have become monogamists; and the step when once taken has never been retraced. the exceptions occurring among brahmins or mahometans or the ancient persians, are of that sort which may be said to prove the rule. the connexions formed between superior and inferior races hardly ever produce a noble offspring, because they are licentious; and because the children in such cases usually despise the mother and are neglected by the father who is ashamed of them. barbarous nations when they are introduced by europeans to vice die out; polygamist peoples either import and adopt children from other countries, or dwindle in numbers, or both. dynasties and aristocracies which have disregarded the laws of nature have decreased in numbers and degenerated in stature; 'mariages de convenance' leave their enfeebling stamp on the offspring of them (king lear). the marriage of near relations, or the marrying in and in of the same family tends constantly to weakness or idiocy in the children, sometimes assuming the form as they grow older of passionate licentiousness. the common prostitute rarely has any offspring. by such unmistakable evidence is the authority of morality asserted in the relations of the sexes: and so many more elements enter into this 'mystery' than are dreamed of by plato and some other philosophers. recent enquirers have indeed arrived at the conclusion that among primitive tribes there existed a community of wives as of property, and that the captive taken by the spear was the only wife or slave whom any man was permitted to call his own. the partial existence of such customs among some of the lower races of man, and the survival of peculiar ceremonies in the marriages of some civilized nations, are thought to furnish a proof of similar institutions having been once universal. there can be no question that the study of anthropology has considerably changed our views respecting the first appearance of man upon the earth. we know more about the aborigines of the world than formerly, but our increasing knowledge shows above all things how little we know. with all the helps which written monuments afford, we do but faintly realize the condition of man two thousand or three thousand years ago. of what his condition was when removed to a distance , or , years, when the majority of mankind were lower and nearer the animals than any tribe now existing upon the earth, we cannot even entertain conjecture. plato (laws) and aristotle (metaph.) may have been more right than we imagine in supposing that some forms of civilisation were discovered and lost several times over. if we cannot argue that all barbarism is a degraded civilization, neither can we set any limits to the depth of degradation to which the human race may sink through war, disease, or isolation. and if we are to draw inferences about the origin of marriage from the practice of barbarous nations, we should also consider the remoter analogy of the animals. many birds and animals, especially the carnivorous, have only one mate, and the love and care of offspring which seems to be natural is inconsistent with the primitive theory of marriage. if we go back to an imaginary state in which men were almost animals and the companions of them, we have as much right to argue from what is animal to what is human as from the barbarous to the civilized man. the record of animal life on the globe is fragmentary,--the connecting links are wanting and cannot be supplied; the record of social life is still more fragmentary and precarious. even if we admit that our first ancestors had no such institution as marriage, still the stages by which men passed from outer barbarism to the comparative civilization of china, assyria, and greece, or even of the ancient germans, are wholly unknown to us. such speculations are apt to be unsettling, because they seem to show that an institution which was thought to be a revelation from heaven, is only the growth of history and experience. we ask what is the origin of marriage, and we are told that like the right of property, after many wars and contests, it has gradually arisen out of the selfishness of barbarians. we stand face to face with human nature in its primitive nakedness. we are compelled to accept, not the highest, but the lowest account of the origin of human society. but on the other hand we may truly say that every step in human progress has been in the same direction, and that in the course of ages the idea of marriage and of the family has been more and more defined and consecrated. the civilized east is immeasurably in advance of any savage tribes; the greeks and romans have improved upon the east; the christian nations have been stricter in their views of the marriage relation than any of the ancients. in this as in so many other things, instead of looking back with regret to the past, we should look forward with hope to the future. we must consecrate that which we believe to be the most holy, and that 'which is the most holy will be the most useful.' there is more reason for maintaining the sacredness of the marriage tie, when we see the benefit of it, than when we only felt a vague religious horror about the violation of it. but in all times of transition, when established beliefs are being undermined, there is a danger that in the passage from the old to the new we may insensibly let go the moral principle, finding an excuse for listening to the voice of passion in the uncertainty of knowledge, or the fluctuations of opinion. and there are many persons in our own day who, enlightened by the study of anthropology, and fascinated by what is new and strange, some using the language of fear, others of hope, are inclined to believe that a time will come when through the self-assertion of women, or the rebellious spirit of children, by the analysis of human relations, or by the force of outward circumstances, the ties of family life may be broken or greatly relaxed. they point to societies in america and elsewhere which tend to show that the destruction of the family need not necessarily involve the overthrow of all morality. wherever we may think of such speculations, we can hardly deny that they have been more rife in this generation than in any other; and whither they are tending, who can predict? to the doubts and queries raised by these 'social reformers' respecting the relation of the sexes and the moral nature of man, there is a sufficient answer, if any is needed. the difference about them and us is really one of fact. they are speaking of man as they wish or fancy him to be, but we are speaking of him as he is. they isolate the animal part of his nature; we regard him as a creature having many sides, or aspects, moving between good and evil, striving to rise above himself and to become 'a little lower than the angels.' we also, to use a platonic formula, are not ignorant of the dissatisfactions and incompatibilities of family life, of the meannesses of trade, of the flatteries of one class of society by another, of the impediments which the family throws in the way of lofty aims and aspirations. but we are conscious that there are evils and dangers in the background greater still, which are not appreciated, because they are either concealed or suppressed. what a condition of man would that be, in which human passions were controlled by no authority, divine or human, in which there was no shame or decency, no higher affection overcoming or sanctifying the natural instincts, but simply a rule of health! is it for this that we are asked to throw away the civilization which is the growth of ages? for strength and health are not the only qualities to be desired; there are the more important considerations of mind and character and soul. we know how human nature may be degraded; we do not know how by artificial means any improvement in the breed can be effected. the problem is a complex one, for if we go back only four steps (and these at least enter into the composition of a child), there are commonly thirty progenitors to be taken into account. many curious facts, rarely admitting of proof, are told us respecting the inheritance of disease or character from a remote ancestor. we can trace the physical resemblances of parents and children in the same family-- 'sic oculos, sic ille manus, sic ora ferebat'; but scarcely less often the differences which distinguish children both from their parents and from one another. we are told of similar mental peculiarities running in families, and again of a tendency, as in the animals, to revert to a common or original stock. but we have a difficulty in distinguishing what is a true inheritance of genius or other qualities, and what is mere imitation or the result of similar circumstances. great men and great women have rarely had great fathers and mothers. nothing that we know of in the circumstances of their birth or lineage will explain their appearance. of the english poets of the last and two preceding centuries scarcely a descendant remains,--none have ever been distinguished. so deeply has nature hidden her secret, and so ridiculous is the fancy which has been entertained by some that we might in time by suitable marriage arrangements or, as plato would have said, 'by an ingenious system of lots,' produce a shakespeare or a milton. even supposing that we could breed men having the tenacity of bulldogs, or, like the spartans, 'lacking the wit to run away in battle,' would the world be any the better? many of the noblest specimens of the human race have been among the weakest physically. tyrtaeus or aesop, or our own newton, would have been exposed at sparta; and some of the fairest and strongest men and women have been among the wickedest and worst. not by the platonic device of uniting the strong and fair with the strong and fair, regardless of sentiment and morality, nor yet by his other device of combining dissimilar natures (statesman), have mankind gradually passed from the brutality and licentiousness of primitive marriage to marriage christian and civilized. few persons would deny that we bring into the world an inheritance of mental and physical qualities derived first from our parents, or through them from some remoter ancestor, secondly from our race, thirdly from the general condition of mankind into which we are born. nothing is commoner than the remark, that 'so and so is like his father or his uncle'; and an aged person may not unfrequently note a resemblance in a youth to a long-forgotten ancestor, observing that 'nature sometimes skips a generation.' it may be true also, that if we knew more about our ancestors, these similarities would be even more striking to us. admitting the facts which are thus described in a popular way, we may however remark that there is no method of difference by which they can be defined or estimated, and that they constitute only a small part of each individual. the doctrine of heredity may seem to take out of our hands the conduct of our own lives, but it is the idea, not the fact, which is really terrible to us. for what we have received from our ancestors is only a fraction of what we are, or may become. the knowledge that drunkenness or insanity has been prevalent in a family may be the best safeguard against their recurrence in a future generation. the parent will be most awake to the vices or diseases in his child of which he is most sensible within himself. the whole of life may be directed to their prevention or cure. the traces of consumption may become fainter, or be wholly effaced: the inherent tendency to vice or crime may be eradicated. and so heredity, from being a curse, may become a blessing. we acknowledge that in the matter of our birth, as in our nature generally, there are previous circumstances which affect us. but upon this platform of circumstances or within this wall of necessity, we have still the power of creating a life for ourselves by the informing energy of the human will. there is another aspect of the marriage question to which plato is a stranger. all the children born in his state are foundlings. it never occurred to him that the greater part of them, according to universal experience, would have perished. for children can only be brought up in families. there is a subtle sympathy between the mother and the child which cannot be supplied by other mothers, or by 'strong nurses one or more' (laws). if plato's 'pen' was as fatal as the creches of paris, or the foundling hospital of dublin, more than nine-tenths of his children would have perished. there would have been no need to expose or put out of the way the weaklier children, for they would have died of themselves. so emphatically does nature protest against the destruction of the family. what plato had heard or seen of sparta was applied by him in a mistaken way to his ideal commonwealth. he probably observed that both the spartan men and women were superior in form and strength to the other greeks; and this superiority he was disposed to attribute to the laws and customs relating to marriage. he did not consider that the desire of a noble offspring was a passion among the spartans, or that their physical superiority was to be attributed chiefly, not to their marriage customs, but to their temperance and training. he did not reflect that sparta was great, not in consequence of the relaxation of morality, but in spite of it, by virtue of a political principle stronger far than existed in any other grecian state. least of all did he observe that sparta did not really produce the finest specimens of the greek race. the genius, the political inspiration of athens, the love of liberty--all that has made greece famous with posterity, were wanting among the spartans. they had no themistocles, or pericles, or aeschylus, or sophocles, or socrates, or plato. the individual was not allowed to appear above the state; the laws were fixed, and he had no business to alter or reform them. yet whence has the progress of cities and nations arisen, if not from remarkable individuals, coming into the world we know not how, and from causes over which we have no control? something too much may have been said in modern times of the value of individuality. but we can hardly condemn too strongly a system which, instead of fostering the scattered seeds or sparks of genius and character, tends to smother and extinguish them. still, while condemning plato, we must acknowledge that neither christianity, nor any other form of religion and society, has hitherto been able to cope with this most difficult of social problems, and that the side from which plato regarded it is that from which we turn away. population is the most untameable force in the political and social world. do we not find, especially in large cities, that the greatest hindrance to the amelioration of the poor is their improvidence in marriage?--a small fault truly, if not involving endless consequences. there are whole countries too, such as india, or, nearer home, ireland, in which a right solution of the marriage question seems to lie at the foundation of the happiness of the community. there are too many people on a given space, or they marry too early and bring into the world a sickly and half-developed offspring; or owing to the very conditions of their existence, they become emaciated and hand on a similar life to their descendants. but who can oppose the voice of prudence to the 'mightiest passions of mankind' (laws), especially when they have been licensed by custom and religion? in addition to the influences of education, we seem to require some new principles of right and wrong in these matters, some force of opinion, which may indeed be already heard whispering in private, but has never affected the moral sentiments of mankind in general. we unavoidably lose sight of the principle of utility, just in that action of our lives in which we have the most need of it. the influences which we can bring to bear upon this question are chiefly indirect. in a generation or two, education, emigration, improvements in agriculture and manufactures, may have provided the solution. the state physician hardly likes to probe the wound: it is beyond his art; a matter which he cannot safely let alone, but which he dare not touch: 'we do but skin and film the ulcerous place.' when again in private life we see a whole family one by one dropping into the grave under the ate of some inherited malady, and the parents perhaps surviving them, do our minds ever go back silently to that day twenty-five or thirty years before on which under the fairest auspices, amid the rejoicings of friends and acquaintances, a bride and bridegroom joined hands with one another? in making such a reflection we are not opposing physical considerations to moral, but moral to physical; we are seeking to make the voice of reason heard, which drives us back from the extravagance of sentimentalism on common sense. the late dr. combe is said by his biographer to have resisted the temptation to marriage, because he knew that he was subject to hereditary consumption. one who deserved to be called a man of genius, a friend of my youth, was in the habit of wearing a black ribbon on his wrist, in order to remind him that, being liable to outbreaks of insanity, he must not give way to the natural impulses of affection: he died unmarried in a lunatic asylum. these two little facts suggest the reflection that a very few persons have done from a sense of duty what the rest of mankind ought to have done under like circumstances, if they had allowed themselves to think of all the misery which they were about to bring into the world. if we could prevent such marriages without any violation of feeling or propriety, we clearly ought; and the prohibition in the course of time would be protected by a 'horror naturalis' similar to that which, in all civilized ages and countries, has prevented the marriage of near relations by blood. mankind would have been the happier, if some things which are now allowed had from the beginning been denied to them; if the sanction of religion could have prohibited practices inimical to health; if sanitary principles could in early ages have been invested with a superstitious awe. but, living as we do far on in the world's history, we are no longer able to stamp at once with the impress of religion a new prohibition. a free agent cannot have his fancies regulated by law; and the execution of the law would be rendered impossible, owing to the uncertainty of the cases in which marriage was to be forbidden. who can weigh virtue, or even fortune against health, or moral and mental qualities against bodily? who can measure probabilities against certainties? there has been some good as well as evil in the discipline of suffering; and there are diseases, such as consumption, which have exercised a refining and softening influence on the character. youth is too inexperienced to balance such nice considerations; parents do not often think of them, or think of them too late. they are at a distance and may probably be averted; change of place, a new state of life, the interests of a home may be the cure of them. so persons vainly reason when their minds are already made up and their fortunes irrevocably linked together. nor is there any ground for supposing that marriages are to any great extent influenced by reflections of this sort, which seem unable to make any head against the irresistible impulse of individual attachment. lastly, no one can have observed the first rising flood of the passions in youth, the difficulty of regulating them, and the effects on the whole mind and nature which follow from them, the stimulus which is given to them by the imagination, without feeling that there is something unsatisfactory in our method of treating them. that the most important influence on human life should be wholly left to chance or shrouded in mystery, and instead of being disciplined or understood, should be required to conform only to an external standard of propriety--cannot be regarded by the philosopher as a safe or satisfactory condition of human things. and still those who have the charge of youth may find a way by watchfulness, by affection, by the manliness and innocence of their own lives, by occasional hints, by general admonitions which every one can apply for himself, to mitigate this terrible evil which eats out the heart of individuals and corrupts the moral sentiments of nations. in no duty towards others is there more need of reticence and self-restraint. so great is the danger lest he who would be the counsellor of another should reveal the secret prematurely, lest he should get another too much into his power; or fix the passing impression of evil by demanding the confession of it. nor is plato wrong in asserting that family attachments may interfere with higher aims. if there have been some who 'to party gave up what was meant for mankind,' there have certainly been others who to family gave up what was meant for mankind or for their country. the cares of children, the necessity of procuring money for their support, the flatteries of the rich by the poor, the exclusiveness of caste, the pride of birth or wealth, the tendency of family life to divert men from the pursuit of the ideal or the heroic, are as lowering in our own age as in that of plato. and if we prefer to look at the gentle influences of home, the development of the affections, the amenities of society, the devotion of one member of a family for the good of the others, which form one side of the picture, we must not quarrel with him, or perhaps ought rather to be grateful to him, for having presented to us the reverse. without attempting to defend plato on grounds of morality, we may allow that there is an aspect of the world which has not unnaturally led him into error. we hardly appreciate the power which the idea of the state, like all other abstract ideas, exercised over the mind of plato. to us the state seems to be built up out of the family, or sometimes to be the framework in which family and social life is contained. but to plato in his present mood of mind the family is only a disturbing influence which, instead of filling up, tends to disarrange the higher unity of the state. no organization is needed except a political, which, regarded from another point of view, is a military one. the state is all-sufficing for the wants of man, and, like the idea of the church in later ages, absorbs all other desires and affections. in time of war the thousand citizens are to stand like a rampart impregnable against the world or the persian host; in time of peace the preparation for war and their duties to the state, which are also their duties to one another, take up their whole life and time. the only other interest which is allowed to them besides that of war, is the interest of philosophy. when they are too old to be soldiers they are to retire from active life and to have a second novitiate of study and contemplation. there is an element of monasticism even in plato's communism. if he could have done without children, he might have converted his republic into a religious order. neither in the laws, when the daylight of common sense breaks in upon him, does he retract his error. in the state of which he would be the founder, there is no marrying or giving in marriage: but because of the infirmity of mankind, he condescends to allow the law of nature to prevail. (c) but plato has an equal, or, in his own estimation, even greater paradox in reserve, which is summed up in the famous text, 'until kings are philosophers or philosophers are kings, cities will never cease from ill.' and by philosophers he explains himself to mean those who are capable of apprehending ideas, especially the idea of good. to the attainment of this higher knowledge the second education is directed. through a process of training which has already made them good citizens they are now to be made good legislators. we find with some surprise (not unlike the feeling which aristotle in a well-known passage describes the hearers of plato's lectures as experiencing, when they went to a discourse on the idea of good, expecting to be instructed in moral truths, and received instead of them arithmetical and mathematical formulae) that plato does not propose for his future legislators any study of finance or law or military tactics, but only of abstract mathematics, as a preparation for the still more abstract conception of good. we ask, with aristotle, what is the use of a man knowing the idea of good, if he does not know what is good for this individual, this state, this condition of society? we cannot understand how plato's legislators or guardians are to be fitted for their work of statesmen by the study of the five mathematical sciences. we vainly search in plato's own writings for any explanation of this seeming absurdity. the discovery of a great metaphysical conception seems to ravish the mind with a prophetic consciousness which takes away the power of estimating its value. no metaphysical enquirer has ever fairly criticised his own speculations; in his own judgment they have been above criticism; nor has he understood that what to him seemed to be absolute truth may reappear in the next generation as a form of logic or an instrument of thought. and posterity have also sometimes equally misapprehended the real value of his speculations. they appear to them to have contributed nothing to the stock of human knowledge. the idea of good is apt to be regarded by the modern thinker as an unmeaning abstraction; but he forgets that this abstraction is waiting ready for use, and will hereafter be filled up by the divisions of knowledge. when mankind do not as yet know that the world is subject to law, the introduction of the mere conception of law or design or final cause, and the far-off anticipation of the harmony of knowledge, are great steps onward. even the crude generalization of the unity of all things leads men to view the world with different eyes, and may easily affect their conception of human life and of politics, and also their own conduct and character (tim). we can imagine how a great mind like that of pericles might derive elevation from his intercourse with anaxagoras (phaedr.). to be struggling towards a higher but unattainable conception is a more favourable intellectual condition than to rest satisfied in a narrow portion of ascertained fact. and the earlier, which have sometimes been the greater ideas of science, are often lost sight of at a later period. how rarely can we say of any modern enquirer in the magnificent language of plato, that 'he is the spectator of all time and of all existence!' nor is there anything unnatural in the hasty application of these vast metaphysical conceptions to practical and political life. in the first enthusiasm of ideas men are apt to see them everywhere, and to apply them in the most remote sphere. they do not understand that the experience of ages is required to enable them to fill up 'the intermediate axioms.' plato himself seems to have imagined that the truths of psychology, like those of astronomy and harmonics, would be arrived at by a process of deduction, and that the method which he has pursued in the fourth book, of inferring them from experience and the use of language, was imperfect and only provisional. but when, after having arrived at the idea of good, which is the end of the science of dialectic, he is asked, what is the nature, and what are the divisions of the science? he refuses to answer, as if intending by the refusal to intimate that the state of knowledge which then existed was not such as would allow the philosopher to enter into his final rest. the previous sciences must first be studied, and will, we may add, continue to be studied tell the end of time, although in a sense different from any which plato could have conceived. but we may observe, that while he is aware of the vacancy of his own ideal, he is full of enthusiasm in the contemplation of it. looking into the orb of light, he sees nothing, but he is warmed and elevated. the hebrew prophet believed that faith in god would enable him to govern the world; the greek philosopher imagined that contemplation of the good would make a legislator. there is as much to be filled up in the one case as in the other, and the one mode of conception is to the israelite what the other is to the greek. both find a repose in a divine perfection, which, whether in a more personal or impersonal form, exists without them and independently of them, as well as within them. there is no mention of the idea of good in the timaeus, nor of the divine creator of the world in the republic; and we are naturally led to ask in what relation they stand to one another. is god above or below the idea of good? or is the idea of good another mode of conceiving god? the latter appears to be the truer answer. to the greek philosopher the perfection and unity of god was a far higher conception than his personality, which he hardly found a word to express, and which to him would have seemed to be borrowed from mythology. to the christian, on the other hand, or to the modern thinker in general, it is difficult, if not impossible, to attach reality to what he terms mere abstraction; while to plato this very abstraction is the truest and most real of all things. hence, from a difference in forms of thought, plato appears to be resting on a creation of his own mind only. but if we may be allowed to paraphrase the idea of good by the words 'intelligent principle of law and order in the universe, embracing equally man and nature,' we begin to find a meeting-point between him and ourselves. the question whether the ruler or statesman should be a philosopher is one that has not lost interest in modern times. in most countries of europe and asia there has been some one in the course of ages who has truly united the power of command with the power of thought and reflection, as there have been also many false combinations of these qualities. some kind of speculative power is necessary both in practical and political life; like the rhetorician in the phaedrus, men require to have a conception of the varieties of human character, and to be raised on great occasions above the commonplaces of ordinary life. yet the idea of the philosopher-statesman has never been popular with the mass of mankind; partly because he cannot take the world into his confidence or make them understand the motives from which he acts; and also because they are jealous of a power which they do not understand. the revolution which human nature desires to effect step by step in many ages is likely to be precipitated by him in a single year or life. they are afraid that in the pursuit of his greater aims he may disregard the common feelings of humanity, he is too apt to be looking into the distant future or back into the remote past, and unable to see actions or events which, to use an expression of plato's 'are tumbling out at his feet.' besides, as plato would say, there are other corruptions of these philosophical statesmen. either 'the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,' and at the moment when action above all things is required he is undecided, or general principles are enunciated by him in order to cover some change of policy; or his ignorance of the world has made him more easily fall a prey to the arts of others; or in some cases he has been converted into a courtier, who enjoys the luxury of holding liberal opinions, but was never known to perform a liberal action. no wonder that mankind have been in the habit of calling statesmen of this class pedants, sophisters, doctrinaires, visionaries. for, as we may be allowed to say, a little parodying the words of plato, 'they have seen bad imitations of the philosopher-statesman.' but a man in whom the power of thought and action are perfectly balanced, equal to the present, reaching forward to the future, 'such a one,' ruling in a constitutional state, 'they have never seen.' but as the philosopher is apt to fail in the routine of political life, so the ordinary statesman is also apt to fail in extraordinary crises. when the face of the world is beginning to alter, and thunder is heard in the distance, he is still guided by his old maxims, and is the slave of his inveterate party prejudices; he cannot perceive the signs of the times; instead of looking forward he looks back; he learns nothing and forgets nothing; with 'wise saws and modern instances' he would stem the rising tide of revolution. he lives more and more within the circle of his own party, as the world without him becomes stronger. this seems to be the reason why the old order of things makes so poor a figure when confronted with the new, why churches can never reform, why most political changes are made blindly and convulsively. the great crises in the history of nations have often been met by an ecclesiastical positiveness, and a more obstinate reassertion of principles which have lost their hold upon a nation. the fixed ideas of a reactionary statesman may be compared to madness; they grow upon him, and he becomes possessed by them; no judgement of others is ever admitted by him to be weighed in the balance against his own. (d) plato, labouring under what, to modern readers, appears to have been a confusion of ideas, assimilates the state to the individual, and fails to distinguish ethics from politics. he thinks that to be most of a state which is most like one man, and in which the citizens have the greatest uniformity of character. he does not see that the analogy is partly fallacious, and that the will or character of a state or nation is really the balance or rather the surplus of individual wills, which are limited by the condition of having to act in common. the movement of a body of men can never have the pliancy or facility of a single man; the freedom of the individual, which is always limited, becomes still more straitened when transferred to a nation. the powers of action and feeling are necessarily weaker and more balanced when they are diffused through a community; whence arises the often discussed question, 'can a nation, like an individual, have a conscience?' we hesitate to say that the characters of nations are nothing more than the sum of the characters of the individuals who compose them; because there may be tendencies in individuals which react upon one another. a whole nation may be wiser than any one man in it; or may be animated by some common opinion or feeling which could not equally have affected the mind of a single person, or may have been inspired by a leader of genius to perform acts more than human. plato does not appear to have analysed the complications which arise out of the collective action of mankind. neither is he capable of seeing that analogies, though specious as arguments, may often have no foundation in fact, or of distinguishing between what is intelligible or vividly present to the mind, and what is true. in this respect he is far below aristotle, who is comparatively seldom imposed upon by false analogies. he cannot disentangle the arts from the virtues--at least he is always arguing from one to the other. his notion of music is transferred from harmony of sounds to harmony of life: in this he is assisted by the ambiguities of language as well as by the prevalence of pythagorean notions. and having once assimilated the state to the individual, he imagines that he will find the succession of states paralleled in the lives of individuals. still, through this fallacious medium, a real enlargement of ideas is attained. when the virtues as yet presented no distinct conception to the mind, a great advance was made by the comparison of them with the arts; for virtue is partly art, and has an outward form as well as an inward principle. the harmony of music affords a lively image of the harmonies of the world and of human life, and may be regarded as a splendid illustration which was naturally mistaken for a real analogy. in the same way the identification of ethics with politics has a tendency to give definiteness to ethics, and also to elevate and ennoble men's notions of the aims of government and of the duties of citizens; for ethics from one point of view may be conceived as an idealized law and politics; and politics, as ethics reduced to the conditions of human society. there have been evils which have arisen out of the attempt to identify them, and this has led to the separation or antagonism of them, which has been introduced by modern political writers. but we may likewise feel that something has been lost in their separation, and that the ancient philosophers who estimated the moral and intellectual wellbeing of mankind first, and the wealth of nations and individuals second, may have a salutary influence on the speculations of modern times. many political maxims originate in a reaction against an opposite error; and when the errors against which they were directed have passed away, they in turn become errors. . plato's views of education are in several respects remarkable; like the rest of the republic they are partly greek and partly ideal, beginning with the ordinary curriculum of the greek youth, and extending to after-life. plato is the first writer who distinctly says that education is to comprehend the whole of life, and to be a preparation for another in which education begins again. this is the continuous thread which runs through the republic, and which more than any other of his ideas admits of an application to modern life. he has long given up the notion that virtue cannot be taught; and he is disposed to modify the thesis of the protagoras, that the virtues are one and not many. he is not unwilling to admit the sensible world into his scheme of truth. nor does he assert in the republic the involuntariness of vice, which is maintained by him in the timaeus, sophist, and laws (protag., apol., gorg.). nor do the so-called platonic ideas recovered from a former state of existence affect his theory of mental improvement. still we observe in him the remains of the old socratic doctrine, that true knowledge must be elicited from within, and is to be sought for in ideas, not in particulars of sense. education, as he says, will implant a principle of intelligence which is better than ten thousand eyes. the paradox that the virtues are one, and the kindred notion that all virtue is knowledge, are not entirely renounced; the first is seen in the supremacy given to justice over the rest; the second in the tendency to absorb the moral virtues in the intellectual, and to centre all goodness in the contemplation of the idea of good. the world of sense is still depreciated and identified with opinion, though admitted to be a shadow of the true. in the republic he is evidently impressed with the conviction that vice arises chiefly from ignorance and may be cured by education; the multitude are hardly to be deemed responsible for what they do. a faint allusion to the doctrine of reminiscence occurs in the tenth book; but plato's views of education have no more real connection with a previous state of existence than our own; he only proposes to elicit from the mind that which is there already. education is represented by him, not as the filling of a vessel, but as the turning the eye of the soul towards the light. he treats first of music or literature, which he divides into true and false, and then goes on to gymnastics; of infancy in the republic he takes no notice, though in the laws he gives sage counsels about the nursing of children and the management of the mothers, and would have an education which is even prior to birth. but in the republic he begins with the age at which the child is capable of receiving ideas, and boldly asserts, in language which sounds paradoxical to modern ears, that he must be taught the false before he can learn the true. the modern and ancient philosophical world are not agreed about truth and falsehood; the one identifies truth almost exclusively with fact, the other with ideas. this is the difference between ourselves and plato, which is, however, partly a difference of words. for we too should admit that a child must receive many lessons which he imperfectly understands; he must be taught some things in a figure only, some too which he can hardly be expected to believe when he grows older; but we should limit the use of fiction by the necessity of the case. plato would draw the line differently; according to him the aim of early education is not truth as a matter of fact, but truth as a matter of principle; the child is to be taught first simple religious truths, and then simple moral truths, and insensibly to learn the lesson of good manners and good taste. he would make an entire reformation of the old mythology; like xenophanes and heracleitus he is sensible of the deep chasm which separates his own age from homer and hesiod, whom he quotes and invests with an imaginary authority, but only for his own purposes. the lusts and treacheries of the gods are to be banished; the terrors of the world below are to be dispelled; the misbehaviour of the homeric heroes is not to be a model for youth. but there is another strain heard in homer which may teach our youth endurance; and something may be learnt in medicine from the simple practice of the homeric age. the principles on which religion is to be based are two only: first, that god is true; secondly, that he is good. modern and christian writers have often fallen short of these; they can hardly be said to have gone beyond them. the young are to be brought up in happy surroundings, out of the way of sights or sounds which may hurt the character or vitiate the taste. they are to live in an atmosphere of health; the breeze is always to be wafting to them the impressions of truth and goodness. could such an education be realized, or if our modern religious education could be bound up with truth and virtue and good manners and good taste, that would be the best hope of human improvement. plato, like ourselves, is looking forward to changes in the moral and religious world, and is preparing for them. he recognizes the danger of unsettling young men's minds by sudden changes of laws and principles, by destroying the sacredness of one set of ideas when there is nothing else to take their place. he is afraid too of the influence of the drama, on the ground that it encourages false sentiment, and therefore he would not have his children taken to the theatre; he thinks that the effect on the spectators is bad, and on the actors still worse. his idea of education is that of harmonious growth, in which are insensibly learnt the lessons of temperance and endurance, and the body and mind develope in equal proportions. the first principle which runs through all art and nature is simplicity; this also is to be the rule of human life. the second stage of education is gymnastic, which answers to the period of muscular growth and development. the simplicity which is enforced in music is extended to gymnastic; plato is aware that the training of the body may be inconsistent with the training of the mind, and that bodily exercise may be easily overdone. excessive training of the body is apt to give men a headache or to render them sleepy at a lecture on philosophy, and this they attribute not to the true cause, but to the nature of the subject. two points are noticeable in plato's treatment of gymnastic:--first, that the time of training is entirely separated from the time of literary education. he seems to have thought that two things of an opposite and different nature could not be learnt at the same time. here we can hardly agree with him; and, if we may judge by experience, the effect of spending three years between the ages of fourteen and seventeen in mere bodily exercise would be far from improving to the intellect. secondly, he affirms that music and gymnastic are not, as common opinion is apt to imagine, intended, the one for the cultivation of the mind and the other of the body, but that they are both equally designed for the improvement of the mind. the body, in his view, is the servant of the mind; the subjection of the lower to the higher is for the advantage of both. and doubtless the mind may exercise a very great and paramount influence over the body, if exerted not at particular moments and by fits and starts, but continuously, in making preparation for the whole of life. other greek writers saw the mischievous tendency of spartan discipline (arist. pol; thuc.). but only plato recognized the fundamental error on which the practice was based. the subject of gymnastic leads plato to the sister subject of medicine, which he further illustrates by the parallel of law. the modern disbelief in medicine has led in this, as in some other departments of knowledge, to a demand for greater simplicity; physicians are becoming aware that they often make diseases 'greater and more complicated' by their treatment of them (rep.). in two thousand years their art has made but slender progress; what they have gained in the analysis of the parts is in a great degree lost by their feebler conception of the human frame as a whole. they have attended more to the cure of diseases than to the conditions of health; and the improvements in medicine have been more than counterbalanced by the disuse of regular training. until lately they have hardly thought of air and water, the importance of which was well understood by the ancients; as aristotle remarks, 'air and water, being the elements which we most use, have the greatest effect upon health' (polit.). for ages physicians have been under the dominion of prejudices which have only recently given way; and now there are as many opinions in medicine as in theology, and an equal degree of scepticism and some want of toleration about both. plato has several good notions about medicine; according to him, 'the eye cannot be cured without the rest of the body, nor the body without the mind' (charm.). no man of sense, he says in the timaeus, would take physic; and we heartily sympathize with him in the laws when he declares that 'the limbs of the rustic worn with toil will derive more benefit from warm baths than from the prescriptions of a not over wise doctor.' but we can hardly praise him when, in obedience to the authority of homer, he depreciates diet, or approve of the inhuman spirit in which he would get rid of invalid and useless lives by leaving them to die. he does not seem to have considered that the 'bridle of theages' might be accompanied by qualities which were of far more value to the state than the health or strength of the citizens; or that the duty of taking care of the helpless might be an important element of education in a state. the physician himself (this is a delicate and subtle observation) should not be a man in robust health; he should have, in modern phraseology, a nervous temperament; he should have experience of disease in his own person, in order that his powers of observation may be quickened in the case of others. the perplexity of medicine is paralleled by the perplexity of law; in which, again, plato would have men follow the golden rule of simplicity. greater matters are to be determined by the legislator or by the oracle of delphi, lesser matters are to be left to the temporary regulation of the citizens themselves. plato is aware that laissez faire is an important element of government. the diseases of a state are like the heads of a hydra; they multiply when they are cut off. the true remedy for them is not extirpation but prevention. and the way to prevent them is to take care of education, and education will take care of all the rest. so in modern times men have often felt that the only political measure worth having--the only one which would produce any certain or lasting effect, was a measure of national education. and in our own more than in any previous age the necessity has been recognized of restoring the ever-increasing confusion of law to simplicity and common sense. when the training in music and gymnastic is completed, there follows the first stage of active and public life. but soon education is to begin again from a new point of view. in the interval between the fourth and seventh books we have discussed the nature of knowledge, and have thence been led to form a higher conception of what was required of us. for true knowledge, according to plato, is of abstractions, and has to do, not with particulars or individuals, but with universals only; not with the beauties of poetry, but with the ideas of philosophy. and the great aim of education is the cultivation of the habit of abstraction. this is to be acquired through the study of the mathematical sciences. they alone are capable of giving ideas of relation, and of arousing the dormant energies of thought. mathematics in the age of plato comprehended a very small part of that which is now included in them; but they bore a much larger proportion to the sum of human knowledge. they were the only organon of thought which the human mind at that time possessed, and the only measure by which the chaos of particulars could be reduced to rule and order. the faculty which they trained was naturally at war with the poetical or imaginative; and hence to plato, who is everywhere seeking for abstractions and trying to get rid of the illusions of sense, nearly the whole of education is contained in them. they seemed to have an inexhaustible application, partly because their true limits were not yet understood. these plato himself is beginning to investigate; though not aware that number and figure are mere abstractions of sense, he recognizes that the forms used by geometry are borrowed from the sensible world. he seeks to find the ultimate ground of mathematical ideas in the idea of good, though he does not satisfactorily explain the connexion between them; and in his conception of the relation of ideas to numbers, he falls very far short of the definiteness attributed to him by aristotle (met.). but if he fails to recognize the true limits of mathematics, he also reaches a point beyond them; in his view, ideas of number become secondary to a higher conception of knowledge. the dialectician is as much above the mathematician as the mathematician is above the ordinary man. the one, the self-proving, the good which is the higher sphere of dialectic, is the perfect truth to which all things ascend, and in which they finally repose. this self-proving unity or idea of good is a mere vision of which no distinct explanation can be given, relative only to a particular stage in greek philosophy. it is an abstraction under which no individuals are comprehended, a whole which has no parts (arist., nic. eth.). the vacancy of such a form was perceived by aristotle, but not by plato. nor did he recognize that in the dialectical process are included two or more methods of investigation which are at variance with each other. he did not see that whether he took the longer or the shorter road, no advance could be made in this way. and yet such visions often have an immense effect; for although the method of science cannot anticipate science, the idea of science, not as it is, but as it will be in the future, is a great and inspiring principle. in the pursuit of knowledge we are always pressing forward to something beyond us; and as a false conception of knowledge, for example the scholastic philosophy, may lead men astray during many ages, so the true ideal, though vacant, may draw all their thoughts in a right direction. it makes a great difference whether the general expectation of knowledge, as this indefinite feeling may be termed, is based upon a sound judgment. for mankind may often entertain a true conception of what knowledge ought to be when they have but a slender experience of facts. the correlation of the sciences, the consciousness of the unity of nature, the idea of classification, the sense of proportion, the unwillingness to stop short of certainty or to confound probability with truth, are important principles of the higher education. although plato could tell us nothing, and perhaps knew that he could tell us nothing, of the absolute truth, he has exercised an influence on the human mind which even at the present day is not exhausted; and political and social questions may yet arise in which the thoughts of plato may be read anew and receive a fresh meaning. the idea of good is so called only in the republic, but there are traces of it in other dialogues of plato. it is a cause as well as an idea, and from this point of view may be compared with the creator of the timaeus, who out of his goodness created all things. it corresponds to a certain extent with the modern conception of a law of nature, or of a final cause, or of both in one, and in this regard may be connected with the measure and symmetry of the philebus. it is represented in the symposium under the aspect of beauty, and is supposed to be attained there by stages of initiation, as here by regular gradations of knowledge. viewed subjectively, it is the process or science of dialectic. this is the science which, according to the phaedrus, is the true basis of rhetoric, which alone is able to distinguish the natures and classes of men and things; which divides a whole into the natural parts, and reunites the scattered parts into a natural or organized whole; which defines the abstract essences or universal ideas of all things, and connects them; which pierces the veil of hypotheses and reaches the final cause or first principle of all; which regards the sciences in relation to the idea of good. this ideal science is the highest process of thought, and may be described as the soul conversing with herself or holding communion with eternal truth and beauty, and in another form is the everlasting question and answer--the ceaseless interrogative of socrates. the dialogues of plato are themselves examples of the nature and method of dialectic. viewed objectively, the idea of good is a power or cause which makes the world without us correspond with the world within. yet this world without us is still a world of ideas. with plato the investigation of nature is another department of knowledge, and in this he seeks to attain only probable conclusions (timaeus). if we ask whether this science of dialectic which plato only half explains to us is more akin to logic or to metaphysics, the answer is that in his mind the two sciences are not as yet distinguished, any more than the subjective and objective aspects of the world and of man, which german philosophy has revealed to us. nor has he determined whether his science of dialectic is at rest or in motion, concerned with the contemplation of absolute being, or with a process of development and evolution. modern metaphysics may be described as the science of abstractions, or as the science of the evolution of thought; modern logic, when passing beyond the bounds of mere aristotelian forms, may be defined as the science of method. the germ of both of them is contained in the platonic dialectic; all metaphysicians have something in common with the ideas of plato; all logicians have derived something from the method of plato. the nearest approach in modern philosophy to the universal science of plato, is to be found in the hegelian 'succession of moments in the unity of the idea.' plato and hegel alike seem to have conceived the world as the correlation of abstractions; and not impossibly they would have understood one another better than any of their commentators understand them (swift's voyage to laputa. 'having a desire to see those ancients who were most renowned for wit and learning, i set apart one day on purpose. i proposed that homer and aristotle might appear at the head of all their commentators; but these were so numerous that some hundreds were forced to attend in the court and outward rooms of the palace. i knew, and could distinguish these two heroes, at first sight, not only from the crowd, but from each other. homer was the taller and comelier person of the two, walked very erect for one of his age, and his eyes were the most quick and piercing i ever beheld. aristotle stooped much, and made use of a staff. his visage was meagre, his hair lank and thin, and his voice hollow. i soon discovered that both of them were perfect strangers to the rest of the company, and had never seen or heard of them before. and i had a whisper from a ghost, who shall be nameless, "that these commentators always kept in the most distant quarters from their principals, in the lower world, through a consciousness of shame and guilt, because they had so horribly misrepresented the meaning of these authors to posterity." i introduced didymus and eustathius to homer, and prevailed on him to treat them better than perhaps they deserved, for he soon found they wanted a genius to enter into the spirit of a poet. but aristotle was out of all patience with the account i gave him of scotus and ramus, as i presented them to him; and he asked them "whether the rest of the tribe were as great dunces as themselves?"'). there is, however, a difference between them: for whereas hegel is thinking of all the minds of men as one mind, which developes the stages of the idea in different countries or at different times in the same country, with plato these gradations are regarded only as an order of thought or ideas; the history of the human mind had not yet dawned upon him. many criticisms may be made on plato's theory of education. while in some respects he unavoidably falls short of modern thinkers, in others he is in advance of them. he is opposed to the modes of education which prevailed in his own time; but he can hardly be said to have discovered new ones. he does not see that education is relative to the characters of individuals; he only desires to impress the same form of the state on the minds of all. he has no sufficient idea of the effect of literature on the formation of the mind, and greatly exaggerates that of mathematics. his aim is above all things to train the reasoning faculties; to implant in the mind the spirit and power of abstraction; to explain and define general notions, and, if possible, to connect them. no wonder that in the vacancy of actual knowledge his followers, and at times even he himself, should have fallen away from the doctrine of ideas, and have returned to that branch of knowledge in which alone the relation of the one and many can be truly seen--the science of number. in his views both of teaching and training he might be styled, in modern language, a doctrinaire; after the spartan fashion he would have his citizens cast in one mould; he does not seem to consider that some degree of freedom, 'a little wholesome neglect,' is necessary to strengthen and develope the character and to give play to the individual nature. his citizens would not have acquired that knowledge which in the vision of er is supposed to be gained by the pilgrims from their experience of evil. on the other hand, plato is far in advance of modern philosophers and theologians when he teaches that education is to be continued through life and will begin again in another. he would never allow education of some kind to cease; although he was aware that the proverbial saying of solon, 'i grow old learning many things,' cannot be applied literally. himself ravished with the contemplation of the idea of good, and delighting in solid geometry (rep.), he has no difficulty in imagining that a lifetime might be passed happily in such pursuits. we who know how many more men of business there are in the world than real students or thinkers, are not equally sanguine. the education which he proposes for his citizens is really the ideal life of the philosopher or man of genius, interrupted, but only for a time, by practical duties,--a life not for the many, but for the few. yet the thought of plato may not be wholly incapable of application to our own times. even if regarded as an ideal which can never be realized, it may have a great effect in elevating the characters of mankind, and raising them above the routine of their ordinary occupation or profession. it is the best form under which we can conceive the whole of life. nevertheless the idea of plato is not easily put into practice. for the education of after life is necessarily the education which each one gives himself. men and women cannot be brought together in schools or colleges at forty or fifty years of age; and if they could the result would be disappointing. the destination of most men is what plato would call 'the den' for the whole of life, and with that they are content. neither have they teachers or advisers with whom they can take counsel in riper years. there is no 'schoolmaster abroad' who will tell them of their faults, or inspire them with the higher sense of duty, or with the ambition of a true success in life; no socrates who will convict them of ignorance; no christ, or follower of christ, who will reprove them of sin. hence they have a difficulty in receiving the first element of improvement, which is self-knowledge. the hopes of youth no longer stir them; they rather wish to rest than to pursue high objects. a few only who have come across great men and women, or eminent teachers of religion and morality, have received a second life from them, and have lighted a candle from the fire of their genius. the want of energy is one of the main reasons why so few persons continue to improve in later years. they have not the will, and do not know the way. they 'never try an experiment,' or look up a point of interest for themselves; they make no sacrifices for the sake of knowledge; their minds, like their bodies, at a certain age become fixed. genius has been defined as 'the power of taking pains'; but hardly any one keeps up his interest in knowledge throughout a whole life. the troubles of a family, the business of making money, the demands of a profession destroy the elasticity of the mind. the waxen tablet of the memory which was once capable of receiving 'true thoughts and clear impressions' becomes hard and crowded; there is not room for the accumulations of a long life (theaet.). the student, as years advance, rather makes an exchange of knowledge than adds to his stores. there is no pressing necessity to learn; the stock of classics or history or natural science which was enough for a man at twenty-five is enough for him at fifty. neither is it easy to give a definite answer to any one who asks how he is to improve. for self-education consists in a thousand things, commonplace in themselves,--in adding to what we are by nature something of what we are not; in learning to see ourselves as others see us; in judging, not by opinion, but by the evidence of facts; in seeking out the society of superior minds; in a study of lives and writings of great men; in observation of the world and character; in receiving kindly the natural influence of different times of life; in any act or thought which is raised above the practice or opinions of mankind; in the pursuit of some new or original enquiry; in any effort of mind which calls forth some latent power. if any one is desirous of carrying out in detail the platonic education of after-life, some such counsels as the following may be offered to him:--that he shall choose the branch of knowledge to which his own mind most distinctly inclines, and in which he takes the greatest delight, either one which seems to connect with his own daily employment, or, perhaps, furnishes the greatest contrast to it. he may study from the speculative side the profession or business in which he is practically engaged. he may make homer, dante, shakespeare, plato, bacon the friends and companions of his life. he may find opportunities of hearing the living voice of a great teacher. he may select for enquiry some point of history or some unexplained phenomenon of nature. an hour a day passed in such scientific or literary pursuits will furnish as many facts as the memory can retain, and will give him 'a pleasure not to be repented of' (timaeus). only let him beware of being the slave of crotchets, or of running after a will o' the wisp in his ignorance, or in his vanity of attributing to himself the gifts of a poet or assuming the air of a philosopher. he should know the limits of his own powers. better to build up the mind by slow additions, to creep on quietly from one thing to another, to gain insensibly new powers and new interests in knowledge, than to form vast schemes which are never destined to be realized. but perhaps, as plato would say, 'this is part of another subject' (tim.); though we may also defend our digression by his example (theaet.). . we remark with surprise that the progress of nations or the natural growth of institutions which fill modern treatises on political philosophy seem hardly ever to have attracted the attention of plato and aristotle. the ancients were familiar with the mutability of human affairs; they could moralize over the ruins of cities and the fall of empires (plato, statesman, and sulpicius' letter to cicero); by them fate and chance were deemed to be real powers, almost persons, and to have had a great share in political events. the wiser of them like thucydides believed that 'what had been would be again,' and that a tolerable idea of the future could be gathered from the past. also they had dreams of a golden age which existed once upon a time and might still exist in some unknown land, or might return again in the remote future. but the regular growth of a state enlightened by experience, progressing in knowledge, improving in the arts, of which the citizens were educated by the fulfilment of political duties, appears never to have come within the range of their hopes and aspirations. such a state had never been seen, and therefore could not be conceived by them. their experience (aristot. metaph.; plato, laws) led them to conclude that there had been cycles of civilization in which the arts had been discovered and lost many times over, and cities had been overthrown and rebuilt again and again, and deluges and volcanoes and other natural convulsions had altered the face of the earth. tradition told them of many destructions of mankind and of the preservation of a remnant. the world began again after a deluge and was reconstructed out of the fragments of itself. also they were acquainted with empires of unknown antiquity, like the egyptian or assyrian; but they had never seen them grow, and could not imagine, any more than we can, the state of man which preceded them. they were puzzled and awestricken by the egyptian monuments, of which the forms, as plato says, not in a figure, but literally, were ten thousand years old (laws), and they contrasted the antiquity of egypt with their own short memories. the early legends of hellas have no real connection with the later history: they are at a distance, and the intermediate region is concealed from view; there is no road or path which leads from one to the other. at the beginning of greek history, in the vestibule of the temple, is seen standing first of all the figure of the legislator, himself the interpreter and servant of the god. the fundamental laws which he gives are not supposed to change with time and circumstances. the salvation of the state is held rather to depend on the inviolable maintenance of them. they were sanctioned by the authority of heaven, and it was deemed impiety to alter them. the desire to maintain them unaltered seems to be the origin of what at first sight is very surprising to us--the intolerant zeal of plato against innovators in religion or politics (laws); although with a happy inconsistency he is also willing that the laws of other countries should be studied and improvements in legislation privately communicated to the nocturnal council (laws). the additions which were made to them in later ages in order to meet the increasing complexity of affairs were still ascribed by a fiction to the original legislator; and the words of such enactments at athens were disputed over as if they had been the words of solon himself. plato hopes to preserve in a later generation the mind of the legislator; he would have his citizens remain within the lines which he has laid down for them. he would not harass them with minute regulations, he would have allowed some changes in the laws: but not changes which would affect the fundamental institutions of the state, such for example as would convert an aristocracy into a timocracy, or a timocracy into a popular form of government. passing from speculations to facts, we observe that progress has been the exception rather than the law of human history. and therefore we are not surprised to find that the idea of progress is of modern rather than of ancient date; and, like the idea of a philosophy of history, is not more than a century or two old. it seems to have arisen out of the impression left on the human mind by the growth of the roman empire and of the christian church, and to be due to the political and social improvements which they introduced into the world; and still more in our own century to the idealism of the first french revolution and the triumph of american independence; and in a yet greater degree to the vast material prosperity and growth of population in england and her colonies and in america. it is also to be ascribed in a measure to the greater study of the philosophy of history. the optimist temperament of some great writers has assisted the creation of it, while the opposite character has led a few to regard the future of the world as dark. the 'spectator of all time and of all existence' sees more of 'the increasing purpose which through the ages ran' than formerly: but to the inhabitant of a small state of hellas the vision was necessarily limited like the valley in which he dwelt. there was no remote past on which his eye could rest, nor any future from which the veil was partly lifted up by the analogy of history. the narrowness of view, which to ourselves appears so singular, was to him natural, if not unavoidable. . for the relation of the republic to the statesman and the laws, and the two other works of plato which directly treat of politics, see the introductions to the two latter; a few general points of comparison may be touched upon in this place. and first of the laws. ( ) the republic, though probably written at intervals, yet speaking generally and judging by the indications of thought and style, may be reasonably ascribed to the middle period of plato's life: the laws are certainly the work of his declining years, and some portions of them at any rate seem to have been written in extreme old age. ( ) the republic is full of hope and aspiration: the laws bear the stamp of failure and disappointment. the one is a finished work which received the last touches of the author: the other is imperfectly executed, and apparently unfinished. the one has the grace and beauty of youth: the other has lost the poetical form, but has more of the severity and knowledge of life which is characteristic of old age. ( ) the most conspicuous defect of the laws is the failure of dramatic power, whereas the republic is full of striking contrasts of ideas and oppositions of character. ( ) the laws may be said to have more the nature of a sermon, the republic of a poem; the one is more religious, the other more intellectual. ( ) many theories of plato, such as the doctrine of ideas, the government of the world by philosophers, are not found in the laws; the immortality of the soul is first mentioned in xii; the person of socrates has altogether disappeared. the community of women and children is renounced; the institution of common or public meals for women (laws) is for the first time introduced (ar. pol.). ( ) there remains in the laws the old enmity to the poets, who are ironically saluted in high-flown terms, and, at the same time, are peremptorily ordered out of the city, if they are not willing to submit their poems to the censorship of the magistrates (rep.). ( ) though the work is in most respects inferior, there are a few passages in the laws, such as the honour due to the soul, the evils of licentious or unnatural love, the whole of book x. (religion), the dishonesty of retail trade, and bequests, which come more home to us, and contain more of what may be termed the modern element in plato than almost anything in the republic. the relation of the two works to one another is very well given: ( ) by aristotle in the politics from the side of the laws:-- 'the same, or nearly the same, objections apply to plato's later work, the laws, and therefore we had better examine briefly the constitution which is therein described. in the republic, socrates has definitely settled in all a few questions only; such as the community of women and children, the community of property, and the constitution of the state. the population is divided into two classes--one of husbandmen, and the other of warriors; from this latter is taken a third class of counsellors and rulers of the state. but socrates has not determined whether the husbandmen and artists are to have a share in the government, and whether they too are to carry arms and share in military service or not. he certainly thinks that the women ought to share in the education of the guardians, and to fight by their side. the remainder of the work is filled up with digressions foreign to the main subject, and with discussions about the education of the guardians. in the laws there is hardly anything but laws; not much is said about the constitution. this, which he had intended to make more of the ordinary type, he gradually brings round to the other or ideal form. for with the exception of the community of women and property, he supposes everything to be the same in both states; there is to be the same education; the citizens of both are to live free from servile occupations, and there are to be common meals in both. the only difference is that in the laws the common meals are extended to women, and the warriors number about , but in the republic only .' ( ) by plato in the laws (book v.), from the side of the republic:-- 'the first and highest form of the state and of the government and of the law is that in which there prevails most widely the ancient saying that "friends have all things in common." whether there is now, or ever will be, this communion of women and children and of property, in which the private and individual is altogether banished from life, and things which are by nature private, such as eyes and ears and hands, have become common, and all men express praise and blame, and feel joy and sorrow, on the same occasions, and the laws unite the city to the utmost,--whether all this is possible or not, i say that no man, acting upon any other principle, will ever constitute a state more exalted in virtue, or truer or better than this. such a state, whether inhabited by gods or sons of gods, will make them blessed who dwell therein; and therefore to this we are to look for the pattern of the state, and to cling to this, and, as far as possible, to seek for one which is like this. the state which we have now in hand, when created, will be nearest to immortality and unity in the next degree; and after that, by the grace of god, we will complete the third one. and we will begin by speaking of the nature and origin of the second.' the comparatively short work called the statesman or politicus in its style and manner is more akin to the laws, while in its idealism it rather resembles the republic. as far as we can judge by various indications of language and thought, it must be later than the one and of course earlier than the other. in both the republic and statesman a close connection is maintained between politics and dialectic. in the statesman, enquiries into the principles of method are interspersed with discussions about politics. the comparative advantages of the rule of law and of a person are considered, and the decision given in favour of a person (arist. pol.). but much may be said on the other side, nor is the opposition necessary; for a person may rule by law, and law may be so applied as to be the living voice of the legislator. as in the republic, there is a myth, describing, however, not a future, but a former existence of mankind. the question is asked, 'whether the state of innocence which is described in the myth, or a state like our own which possesses art and science and distinguishes good from evil, is the preferable condition of man.' to this question of the comparative happiness of civilized and primitive life, which was so often discussed in the last century and in our own, no answer is given. the statesman, though less perfect in style than the republic and of far less range, may justly be regarded as one of the greatest of plato's dialogues. . others as well as plato have chosen an ideal republic to be the vehicle of thoughts which they could not definitely express, or which went beyond their own age. the classical writing which approaches most nearly to the republic of plato is the 'de republica' of cicero; but neither in this nor in any other of his dialogues does he rival the art of plato. the manners are clumsy and inferior; the hand of the rhetorician is apparent at every turn. yet noble sentiments are constantly recurring: the true note of roman patriotism--'we romans are a great people'--resounds through the whole work. like socrates, cicero turns away from the phenomena of the heavens to civil and political life. he would rather not discuss the 'two suns' of which all rome was talking, when he can converse about 'the two nations in one' which had divided rome ever since the days of the gracchi. like socrates again, speaking in the person of scipio, he is afraid lest he should assume too much the character of a teacher, rather than of an equal who is discussing among friends the two sides of a question. he would confine the terms king or state to the rule of reason and justice, and he will not concede that title either to a democracy or to a monarchy. but under the rule of reason and justice he is willing to include the natural superior ruling over the natural inferior, which he compares to the soul ruling over the body. he prefers a mixture of forms of government to any single one. the two portraits of the just and the unjust, which occur in the second book of the republic, are transferred to the state--philus, one of the interlocutors, maintaining against his will the necessity of injustice as a principle of government, while the other, laelius, supports the opposite thesis. his views of language and number are derived from plato; like him he denounces the drama. he also declares that if his life were to be twice as long he would have no time to read the lyric poets. the picture of democracy is translated by him word for word, though he had hardly shown himself able to 'carry the jest' of plato. he converts into a stately sentence the humorous fancy about the animals, who 'are so imbued with the spirit of democracy that they make the passers-by get out of their way.' his description of the tyrant is imitated from plato, but is far inferior. the second book is historical, and claims for the roman constitution (which is to him the ideal) a foundation of fact such as plato probably intended to have given to the republic in the critias. his most remarkable imitation of plato is the adaptation of the vision of er, which is converted by cicero into the 'somnium scipionis'; he has 'romanized' the myth of the republic, adding an argument for the immortality of the soul taken from the phaedrus, and some other touches derived from the phaedo and the timaeus. though a beautiful tale and containing splendid passages, the 'somnium scipionis; is very inferior to the vision of er; it is only a dream, and hardly allows the reader to suppose that the writer believes in his own creation. whether his dialogues were framed on the model of the lost dialogues of aristotle, as he himself tells us, or of plato, to which they bear many superficial resemblances, he is still the roman orator; he is not conversing, but making speeches, and is never able to mould the intractable latin to the grace and ease of the greek platonic dialogue. but if he is defective in form, much more is he inferior to the greek in matter; he nowhere in his philosophical writings leaves upon our minds the impression of an original thinker. plato's republic has been said to be a church and not a state; and such an ideal of a city in the heavens has always hovered over the christian world, and is embodied in st. augustine's 'de civitate dei,' which is suggested by the decay and fall of the roman empire, much in the same manner in which we may imagine the republic of plato to have been influenced by the decline of greek politics in the writer's own age. the difference is that in the time of plato the degeneracy, though certain, was gradual and insensible: whereas the taking of rome by the goths stirred like an earthquake the age of st. augustine. men were inclined to believe that the overthrow of the city was to be ascribed to the anger felt by the old roman deities at the neglect of their worship. st. augustine maintains the opposite thesis; he argues that the destruction of the roman empire is due, not to the rise of christianity, but to the vices of paganism. he wanders over roman history, and over greek philosophy and mythology, and finds everywhere crime, impiety and falsehood. he compares the worst parts of the gentile religions with the best elements of the faith of christ. he shows nothing of the spirit which led others of the early christian fathers to recognize in the writings of the greek philosophers the power of the divine truth. he traces the parallel of the kingdom of god, that is, the history of the jews, contained in their scriptures, and of the kingdoms of the world, which are found in gentile writers, and pursues them both into an ideal future. it need hardly be remarked that his use both of greek and of roman historians and of the sacred writings of the jews is wholly uncritical. the heathen mythology, the sybilline oracles, the myths of plato, the dreams of neo-platonists are equally regarded by him as matter of fact. he must be acknowledged to be a strictly polemical or controversial writer who makes the best of everything on one side and the worst of everything on the other. he has no sympathy with the old roman life as plato has with greek life, nor has he any idea of the ecclesiastical kingdom which was to arise out of the ruins of the roman empire. he is not blind to the defects of the christian church, and looks forward to a time when christian and pagan shall be alike brought before the judgment-seat, and the true city of god shall appear...the work of st. augustine is a curious repertory of antiquarian learning and quotations, deeply penetrated with christian ethics, but showing little power of reasoning, and a slender knowledge of the greek literature and language. he was a great genius, and a noble character, yet hardly capable of feeling or understanding anything external to his own theology. of all the ancient philosophers he is most attracted by plato, though he is very slightly acquainted with his writings. he is inclined to believe that the idea of creation in the timaeus is derived from the narrative in genesis; and he is strangely taken with the coincidence (?) of plato's saying that 'the philosopher is the lover of god,' and the words of the book of exodus in which god reveals himself to moses (exod.) he dwells at length on miracles performed in his own day, of which the evidence is regarded by him as irresistible. he speaks in a very interesting manner of the beauty and utility of nature and of the human frame, which he conceives to afford a foretaste of the heavenly state and of the resurrection of the body. the book is not really what to most persons the title of it would imply, and belongs to an age which has passed away. but it contains many fine passages and thoughts which are for all time. the short treatise de monarchia of dante is by far the most remarkable of mediaeval ideals, and bears the impress of the great genius in whom italy and the middle ages are so vividly reflected. it is the vision of an universal empire, which is supposed to be the natural and necessary government of the world, having a divine authority distinct from the papacy, yet coextensive with it. it is not 'the ghost of the dead roman empire sitting crowned upon the grave thereof,' but the legitimate heir and successor of it, justified by the ancient virtues of the romans and the beneficence of their rule. their right to be the governors of the world is also confirmed by the testimony of miracles, and acknowledged by st. paul when he appealed to caesar, and even more emphatically by christ himself, who could not have made atonement for the sins of men if he had not been condemned by a divinely authorized tribunal. the necessity for the establishment of an universal empire is proved partly by a priori arguments such as the unity of god and the unity of the family or nation; partly by perversions of scripture and history, by false analogies of nature, by misapplied quotations from the classics, and by odd scraps and commonplaces of logic, showing a familiar but by no means exact knowledge of aristotle (of plato there is none). but a more convincing argument still is the miserable state of the world, which he touchingly describes. he sees no hope of happiness or peace for mankind until all nations of the earth are comprehended in a single empire. the whole treatise shows how deeply the idea of the roman empire was fixed in the minds of his contemporaries. not much argument was needed to maintain the truth of a theory which to his own contemporaries seemed so natural and congenial. he speaks, or rather preaches, from the point of view, not of the ecclesiastic, but of the layman, although, as a good catholic, he is willing to acknowledge that in certain respects the empire must submit to the church. the beginning and end of all his noble reflections and of his arguments, good and bad, is the aspiration 'that in this little plot of earth belonging to mortal man life may pass in freedom and peace.' so inextricably is his vision of the future bound up with the beliefs and circumstances of his own age. the 'utopia' of sir thomas more is a surprising monument of his genius, and shows a reach of thought far beyond his contemporaries. the book was written by him at the age of about or , and is full of the generous sentiments of youth. he brings the light of plato to bear upon the miserable state of his own country. living not long after the wars of the roses, and in the dregs of the catholic church in england, he is indignant at the corruption of the clergy, at the luxury of the nobility and gentry, at the sufferings of the poor, at the calamities caused by war. to the eye of more the whole world was in dissolution and decay; and side by side with the misery and oppression which he has described in the first book of the utopia, he places in the second book the ideal state which by the help of plato he had constructed. the times were full of stir and intellectual interest. the distant murmur of the reformation was beginning to be heard. to minds like more's, greek literature was a revelation: there had arisen an art of interpretation, and the new testament was beginning to be understood as it had never been before, and has not often been since, in its natural sense. the life there depicted appeared to him wholly unlike that of christian commonwealths, in which 'he saw nothing but a certain conspiracy of rich men procuring their own commodities under the name and title of the commonwealth.' he thought that christ, like plato, 'instituted all things common,' for which reason, he tells us, the citizens of utopia were the more willing to receive his doctrines ('howbeit, i think this was no small help and furtherance in the matter, that they heard us say that christ instituted among his, all things common, and that the same community doth yet remain in the rightest christian communities' (utopia).). the community of property is a fixed idea with him, though he is aware of the arguments which may be urged on the other side ('these things (i say), when i consider with myself, i hold well with plato, and do nothing marvel that he would make no laws for them that refused those laws, whereby all men should have and enjoy equal portions of riches and commodities. for the wise men did easily foresee this to be the one and only way to the wealth of a community, if equality of all things should be brought in and established' (utopia).). we wonder how in the reign of henry viii, though veiled in another language and published in a foreign country, such speculations could have been endured. he is gifted with far greater dramatic invention than any one who succeeded him, with the exception of swift. in the art of feigning he is a worthy disciple of plato. like him, starting from a small portion of fact, he founds his tale with admirable skill on a few lines in the latin narrative of the voyages of amerigo vespucci. he is very precise about dates and facts, and has the power of making us believe that the narrator of the tale must have been an eyewitness. we are fairly puzzled by his manner of mixing up real and imaginary persons; his boy john clement and peter giles, citizen of antwerp, with whom he disputes about the precise words which are supposed to have been used by the (imaginary) portuguese traveller, raphael hythloday. 'i have the more cause,' says hythloday, 'to fear that my words shall not be believed, for that i know how difficultly and hardly i myself would have believed another man telling the same, if i had not myself seen it with mine own eyes.' or again: 'if you had been with me in utopia, and had presently seen their fashions and laws as i did which lived there five years and more, and would never have come thence, but only to make the new land known here,' etc. more greatly regrets that he forgot to ask hythloday in what part of the world utopia is situated; he 'would have spent no small sum of money rather than it should have escaped him,' and he begs peter giles to see hythloday or write to him and obtain an answer to the question. after this we are not surprised to hear that a professor of divinity (perhaps 'a late famous vicar of croydon in surrey,' as the translator thinks) is desirous of being sent thither as a missionary by the high bishop, 'yea, and that he may himself be made bishop of utopia, nothing doubting that he must obtain this bishopric with suit; and he counteth that a godly suit which proceedeth not of the desire of honour or lucre, but only of a godly zeal.' the design may have failed through the disappearance of hythloday, concerning whom we have 'very uncertain news' after his departure. there is no doubt, however, that he had told more and giles the exact situation of the island, but unfortunately at the same moment more's attention, as he is reminded in a letter from giles, was drawn off by a servant, and one of the company from a cold caught on shipboard coughed so loud as to prevent giles from hearing. and 'the secret has perished' with him; to this day the place of utopia remains unknown. the words of phaedrus, 'o socrates, you can easily invent egyptians or anything,' are recalled to our mind as we read this lifelike fiction. yet the greater merit of the work is not the admirable art, but the originality of thought. more is as free as plato from the prejudices of his age, and far more tolerant. the utopians do not allow him who believes not in the immortality of the soul to share in the administration of the state (laws), 'howbeit they put him to no punishment, because they be persuaded that it is in no man's power to believe what he list'; and 'no man is to be blamed for reasoning in support of his own religion ('one of our company in my presence was sharply punished. he, as soon as he was baptised, began, against our wills, with more earnest affection than wisdom, to reason of christ's religion, and began to wax so hot in his matter, that he did not only prefer our religion before all other, but also did despise and condemn all other, calling them profane, and the followers of them wicked and devilish, and the children of everlasting damnation. when he had thus long reasoned the matter, they laid hold on him, accused him, and condemned him into exile, not as a despiser of religion, but as a seditious person and a raiser up of dissension among the people').' in the public services 'no prayers be used, but such as every man may boldly pronounce without giving offence to any sect.' he says significantly, 'there be that give worship to a man that was once of excellent virtue or of famous glory, not only as god, but also the chiefest and highest god. but the most and the wisest part, rejecting all these, believe that there is a certain godly power unknown, far above the capacity and reach of man's wit, dispersed throughout all the world, not in bigness, but in virtue and power. him they call the father of all. to him alone they attribute the beginnings, the increasings, the proceedings, the changes, and the ends of all things. neither give they any divine honours to any other than him.' so far was more from sharing the popular beliefs of his time. yet at the end he reminds us that he does not in all respects agree with the customs and opinions of the utopians which he describes. and we should let him have the benefit of this saving clause, and not rudely withdraw the veil behind which he has been pleased to conceal himself. nor is he less in advance of popular opinion in his political and moral speculations. he would like to bring military glory into contempt; he would set all sorts of idle people to profitable occupation, including in the same class, priests, women, noblemen, gentlemen, and 'sturdy and valiant beggars,' that the labour of all may be reduced to six hours a day. his dislike of capital punishment, and plans for the reformation of offenders; his detestation of priests and lawyers (compare his satirical observation: 'they (the utopians) have priests of exceeding holiness, and therefore very few.); his remark that 'although every one may hear of ravenous dogs and wolves and cruel man-eaters, it is not easy to find states that are well and wisely governed,' are curiously at variance with the notions of his age and indeed with his own life. there are many points in which he shows a modern feeling and a prophetic insight like plato. he is a sanitary reformer; he maintains that civilized states have a right to the soil of waste countries; he is inclined to the opinion which places happiness in virtuous pleasures, but herein, as he thinks, not disagreeing from those other philosophers who define virtue to be a life according to nature. he extends the idea of happiness so as to include the happiness of others; and he argues ingeniously, 'all men agree that we ought to make others happy; but if others, how much more ourselves!' and still he thinks that there may be a more excellent way, but to this no man's reason can attain unless heaven should inspire him with a higher truth. his ceremonies before marriage; his humane proposal that war should be carried on by assassinating the leaders of the enemy, may be compared to some of the paradoxes of plato. he has a charming fancy, like the affinities of greeks and barbarians in the timaeus, that the utopians learnt the language of the greeks with the more readiness because they were originally of the same race with them. he is penetrated with the spirit of plato, and quotes or adapts many thoughts both from the republic and from the timaeus. he prefers public duties to private, and is somewhat impatient of the importunity of relations. his citizens have no silver or gold of their own, but are ready enough to pay them to their mercenaries. there is nothing of which he is more contemptuous than the love of money. gold is used for fetters of criminals, and diamonds and pearls for children's necklaces (when the ambassadors came arrayed in gold and peacocks' feathers 'to the eyes of all the utopians except very few, which had been in other countries for some reasonable cause, all that gorgeousness of apparel seemed shameful and reproachful. in so much that they most reverently saluted the vilest and most abject of them for lords--passing over the ambassadors themselves without any honour, judging them by their wearing of golden chains to be bondmen. you should have seen children also, that had cast away their pearls and precious stones, when they saw the like sticking upon the ambassadors' caps, dig and push their mothers under the sides, saying thus to them--"look, though he were a little child still." but the mother; yea and that also in good earnest: "peace, son," saith she, "i think he be some of the ambassadors' fools."') like plato he is full of satirical reflections on governments and princes; on the state of the world and of knowledge. the hero of his discourse (hythloday) is very unwilling to become a minister of state, considering that he would lose his independence and his advice would never be heeded (compare an exquisite passage, of which the conclusion is as follows: 'and verily it is naturally given...suppressed and ended.') he ridicules the new logic of his time; the utopians could never be made to understand the doctrine of second intentions ('for they have not devised one of all those rules of restrictions, amplifications, and suppositions, very wittily invented in the small logicals, which here our children in every place do learn. furthermore, they were never yet able to find out the second intentions; insomuch that none of them all could ever see man himself in common, as they call him, though he be (as you know) bigger than was ever any giant, yea, and pointed to of us even with our finger.') he is very severe on the sports of the gentry; the utopians count 'hunting the lowest, the vilest, and the most abject part of butchery.' he quotes the words of the republic in which the philosopher is described 'standing out of the way under a wall until the driving storm of sleet and rain be overpast,' which admit of a singular application to more's own fate; although, writing twenty years before (about the year ), he can hardly be supposed to have foreseen this. there is no touch of satire which strikes deeper than his quiet remark that the greater part of the precepts of christ are more at variance with the lives of ordinary christians than the discourse of utopia ('and yet the most part of them is more dissident from the manners of the world now a days, than my communication was. but preachers, sly and wily men, following your counsel (as i suppose) because they saw men evil-willing to frame their manners to christ's rule, they have wrested and wried his doctrine, and, like a rule of lead, have applied it to men's manners, that by some means at the least way, they might agree together.') the 'new atlantis' is only a fragment, and far inferior in merit to the 'utopia.' the work is full of ingenuity, but wanting in creative fancy, and by no means impresses the reader with a sense of credibility. in some places lord bacon is characteristically different from sir thomas more, as, for example, in the external state which he attributes to the governor of solomon's house, whose dress he minutely describes, while to sir thomas more such trappings appear simple ridiculous. yet, after this programme of dress, bacon adds the beautiful trait, 'that he had a look as though he pitied men.' several things are borrowed by him from the timaeus; but he has injured the unity of style by adding thoughts and passages which are taken from the hebrew scriptures. the 'city of the sun' written by campanella ( - ), a dominican friar, several years after the 'new atlantis' of bacon, has many resemblances to the republic of plato. the citizens have wives and children in common; their marriages are of the same temporary sort, and are arranged by the magistrates from time to time. they do not, however, adopt his system of lots, but bring together the best natures, male and female, 'according to philosophical rules.' the infants until two years of age are brought up by their mothers in public temples; and since individuals for the most part educate their children badly, at the beginning of their third year they are committed to the care of the state, and are taught at first, not out of books, but from paintings of all kinds, which are emblazoned on the walls of the city. the city has six interior circuits of walls, and an outer wall which is the seventh. on this outer wall are painted the figures of legislators and philosophers, and on each of the interior walls the symbols or forms of some one of the sciences are delineated. the women are, for the most part, trained, like the men, in warlike and other exercises; but they have two special occupations of their own. after a battle, they and the boys soothe and relieve the wounded warriors; also they encourage them with embraces and pleasant words. some elements of the christian or catholic religion are preserved among them. the life of the apostles is greatly admired by this people because they had all things in common; and the short prayer which jesus christ taught men is used in their worship. it is a duty of the chief magistrates to pardon sins, and therefore the whole people make secret confession of them to the magistrates, and they to their chief, who is a sort of rector metaphysicus; and by this means he is well informed of all that is going on in the minds of men. after confession, absolution is granted to the citizens collectively, but no one is mentioned by name. there also exists among them a practice of perpetual prayer, performed by a succession of priests, who change every hour. their religion is a worship of god in trinity, that is of wisdom, love and power, but without any distinction of persons. they behold in the sun the reflection of his glory; mere graven images they reject, refusing to fall under the 'tyranny' of idolatry. many details are given about their customs of eating and drinking, about their mode of dressing, their employments, their wars. campanella looks forward to a new mode of education, which is to be a study of nature, and not of aristotle. he would not have his citizens waste their time in the consideration of what he calls 'the dead signs of things.' he remarks that he who knows one science only, does not really know that one any more than the rest, and insists strongly on the necessity of a variety of knowledge. more scholars are turned out in the city of the sun in one year than by contemporary methods in ten or fifteen. he evidently believes, like bacon, that henceforward natural science will play a great part in education, a hope which seems hardly to have been realized, either in our own or in any former age; at any rate the fulfilment of it has been long deferred. there is a good deal of ingenuity and even originality in this work, and a most enlightened spirit pervades it. but it has little or no charm of style, and falls very far short of the 'new atlantis' of bacon, and still more of the 'utopia' of sir thomas more. it is full of inconsistencies, and though borrowed from plato, shows but a superficial acquaintance with his writings. it is a work such as one might expect to have been written by a philosopher and man of genius who was also a friar, and who had spent twenty-seven years of his life in a prison of the inquisition. the most interesting feature of the book, common to plato and sir thomas more, is the deep feeling which is shown by the writer, of the misery and ignorance prevailing among the lower classes in his own time. campanella takes note of aristotle's answer to plato's community of property, that in a society where all things are common, no individual would have any motive to work (arist. pol.): he replies, that his citizens being happy and contented in themselves (they are required to work only four hours a day), will have greater regard for their fellows than exists among men at present. he thinks, like plato, that if he abolishes private feelings and interests, a great public feeling will take their place. other writings on ideal states, such as the 'oceana' of harrington, in which the lord archon, meaning cromwell, is described, not as he was, but as he ought to have been; or the 'argenis' of barclay, which is an historical allegory of his own time, are too unlike plato to be worth mentioning. more interesting than either of these, and far more platonic in style and thought, is sir john eliot's 'monarchy of man,' in which the prisoner of the tower, no longer able 'to be a politician in the land of his birth,' turns away from politics to view 'that other city which is within him,' and finds on the very threshold of the grave that the secret of human happiness is the mastery of self. the change of government in the time of the english commonwealth set men thinking about first principles, and gave rise to many works of this class...the great original genius of swift owes nothing to plato; nor is there any trace in the conversation or in the works of dr. johnson of any acquaintance with his writings. he probably would have refuted plato without reading him, in the same fashion in which he supposed himself to have refuted bishop berkeley's theory of the non-existence of matter. if we except the so-called english platonists, or rather neo-platonists, who never understood their master, and the writings of coleridge, who was to some extent a kindred spirit, plato has left no permanent impression on english literature. . human life and conduct are affected by ideals in the same way that they are affected by the examples of eminent men. neither the one nor the other are immediately applicable to practice, but there is a virtue flowing from them which tends to raise individuals above the common routine of society or trade, and to elevate states above the mere interests of commerce or the necessities of self-defence. like the ideals of art they are partly framed by the omission of particulars; they require to be viewed at a certain distance, and are apt to fade away if we attempt to approach them. they gain an imaginary distinctness when embodied in a state or in a system of philosophy, but they still remain the visions of 'a world unrealized.' more striking and obvious to the ordinary mind are the examples of great men, who have served their own generation and are remembered in another. even in our own family circle there may have been some one, a woman, or even a child, in whose face has shone forth a goodness more than human. the ideal then approaches nearer to us, and we fondly cling to it. the ideal of the past, whether of our own past lives or of former states of society, has a singular fascination for the minds of many. too late we learn that such ideals cannot be recalled, though the recollection of them may have a humanizing influence on other times. but the abstractions of philosophy are to most persons cold and vacant; they give light without warmth; they are like the full moon in the heavens when there are no stars appearing. men cannot live by thought alone; the world of sense is always breaking in upon them. they are for the most part confined to a corner of earth, and see but a little way beyond their own home or place of abode; they 'do not lift up their eyes to the hills'; they are not awake when the dawn appears. but in plato we have reached a height from which a man may look into the distance and behold the future of the world and of philosophy. the ideal of the state and of the life of the philosopher; the ideal of an education continuing through life and extending equally to both sexes; the ideal of the unity and correlation of knowledge; the faith in good and immortality--are the vacant forms of light on which plato is seeking to fix the eye of mankind. . two other ideals, which never appeared above the horizon in greek philosophy, float before the minds of men in our own day: one seen more clearly than formerly, as though each year and each generation brought us nearer to some great change; the other almost in the same degree retiring from view behind the laws of nature, as if oppressed by them, but still remaining a silent hope of we know not what hidden in the heart of man. the first ideal is the future of the human race in this world; the second the future of the individual in another. the first is the more perfect realization of our own present life; the second, the abnegation of it: the one, limited by experience, the other, transcending it. both of them have been and are powerful motives of action; there are a few in whom they have taken the place of all earthly interests. the hope of a future for the human race at first sight seems to be the more disinterested, the hope of individual existence the more egotistical, of the two motives. but when men have learned to resolve their hope of a future either for themselves or for the world into the will of god--'not my will but thine,' the difference between them falls away; and they may be allowed to make either of them the basis of their lives, according to their own individual character or temperament. there is as much faith in the willingness to work for an unseen future in this world as in another. neither is it inconceivable that some rare nature may feel his duty to another generation, or to another century, almost as strongly as to his own, or that living always in the presence of god, he may realize another world as vividly as he does this. the greatest of all ideals may, or rather must be conceived by us under similitudes derived from human qualities; although sometimes, like the jewish prophets, we may dash away these figures of speech and describe the nature of god only in negatives. these again by degrees acquire a positive meaning. it would be well, if when meditating on the higher truths either of philosophy or religion, we sometimes substituted one form of expression for another, lest through the necessities of language we should become the slaves of mere words. there is a third ideal, not the same, but akin to these, which has a place in the home and heart of every believer in the religion of christ, and in which men seem to find a nearer and more familiar truth, the divine man, the son of man, the saviour of mankind, who is the first-born and head of the whole family in heaven and earth, in whom the divine and human, that which is without and that which is within the range of our earthly faculties, are indissolubly united. neither is this divine form of goodness wholly separable from the ideal of the christian church, which is said in the new testament to be 'his body,' or at variance with those other images of good which plato sets before us. we see him in a figure only, and of figures of speech we select but a few, and those the simplest, to be the expression of him. we behold him in a picture, but he is not there. we gather up the fragments of his discourses, but neither do they represent him as he truly was. his dwelling is neither in heaven nor earth, but in the heart of man. this is that image which plato saw dimly in the distance, which, when existing among men, he called, in the language of homer, 'the likeness of god,' the likeness of a nature which in all ages men have felt to be greater and better than themselves, and which in endless forms, whether derived from scripture or nature, from the witness of history or from the human heart, regarded as a person or not as a person, with or without parts or passions, existing in space or not in space, is and will always continue to be to mankind the idea of good. the republic. persons of the dialogue. socrates, who is the narrator. glaucon. adeimantus. polemarchus. cephalus. thrasymachus. cleitophon. and others who are mute auditors. the scene is laid in the house of cephalus at the piraeus; and the whole dialogue is narrated by socrates the day after it actually took place to timaeus, hermocrates, critias, and a nameless person, who are introduced in the timaeus. book i. i went down yesterday to the piraeus with glaucon the son of ariston, that i might offer up my prayers to the goddess (bendis, the thracian artemis.); and also because i wanted to see in what manner they would celebrate the festival, which was a new thing. i was delighted with the procession of the inhabitants; but that of the thracians was equally, if not more, beautiful. when we had finished our prayers and viewed the spectacle, we turned in the direction of the city; and at that instant polemarchus the son of cephalus chanced to catch sight of us from a distance as we were starting on our way home, and told his servant to run and bid us wait for him. the servant took hold of me by the cloak behind, and said: polemarchus desires you to wait. i turned round, and asked him where his master was. there he is, said the youth, coming after you, if you will only wait. certainly we will, said glaucon; and in a few minutes polemarchus appeared, and with him adeimantus, glaucon's brother, niceratus the son of nicias, and several others who had been at the procession. polemarchus said to me: i perceive, socrates, that you and your companion are already on your way to the city. you are not far wrong, i said. but do you see, he rejoined, how many we are? of course. and are you stronger than all these? for if not, you will have to remain where you are. may there not be the alternative, i said, that we may persuade you to let us go? but can you persuade us, if we refuse to listen to you? he said. certainly not, replied glaucon. then we are not going to listen; of that you may be assured. adeimantus added: has no one told you of the torch-race on horseback in honour of the goddess which will take place in the evening? with horses! i replied: that is a novelty. will horsemen carry torches and pass them one to another during the race? yes, said polemarchus, and not only so, but a festival will be celebrated at night, which you certainly ought to see. let us rise soon after supper and see this festival; there will be a gathering of young men, and we will have a good talk. stay then, and do not be perverse. glaucon said: i suppose, since you insist, that we must. very good, i replied. accordingly we went with polemarchus to his house; and there we found his brothers lysias and euthydemus, and with them thrasymachus the chalcedonian, charmantides the paeanian, and cleitophon the son of aristonymus. there too was cephalus the father of polemarchus, whom i had not seen for a long time, and i thought him very much aged. he was seated on a cushioned chair, and had a garland on his head, for he had been sacrificing in the court; and there were some other chairs in the room arranged in a semicircle, upon which we sat down by him. he saluted me eagerly, and then he said:-- you don't come to see me, socrates, as often as you ought: if i were still able to go and see you i would not ask you to come to me. but at my age i can hardly get to the city, and therefore you should come oftener to the piraeus. for let me tell you, that the more the pleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me is the pleasure and charm of conversation. do not then deny my request, but make our house your resort and keep company with these young men; we are old friends, and you will be quite at home with us. i replied: there is nothing which for my part i like better, cephalus, than conversing with aged men; for i regard them as travellers who have gone a journey which i too may have to go, and of whom i ought to enquire, whether the way is smooth and easy, or rugged and difficult. and this is a question which i should like to ask of you who have arrived at that time which the poets call the 'threshold of old age'--is life harder towards the end, or what report do you give of it? i will tell you, socrates, he said, what my own feeling is. men of my age flock together; we are birds of a feather, as the old proverb says; and at our meetings the tale of my acquaintance commonly is--i cannot eat, i cannot drink; the pleasures of youth and love are fled away: there was a good time once, but now that is gone, and life is no longer life. some complain of the slights which are put upon them by relations, and they will tell you sadly of how many evils their old age is the cause. but to me, socrates, these complainers seem to blame that which is not really in fault. for if old age were the cause, i too being old, and every other old man, would have felt as they do. but this is not my own experience, nor that of others whom i have known. how well i remember the aged poet sophocles, when in answer to the question, how does love suit with age, sophocles,--are you still the man you were? peace, he replied; most gladly have i escaped the thing of which you speak; i feel as if i had escaped from a mad and furious master. his words have often occurred to my mind since, and they seem as good to me now as at the time when he uttered them. for certainly old age has a great sense of calm and freedom; when the passions relax their hold, then, as sophocles says, we are freed from the grasp not of one mad master only, but of many. the truth is, socrates, that these regrets, and also the complaints about relations, are to be attributed to the same cause, which is not old age, but men's characters and tempers; for he who is of a calm and happy nature will hardly feel the pressure of age, but to him who is of an opposite disposition youth and age are equally a burden. i listened in admiration, and wanting to draw him out, that he might go on--yes, cephalus, i said: but i rather suspect that people in general are not convinced by you when you speak thus; they think that old age sits lightly upon you, not because of your happy disposition, but because you are rich, and wealth is well known to be a great comforter. you are right, he replied; they are not convinced: and there is something in what they say; not, however, so much as they imagine. i might answer them as themistocles answered the seriphian who was abusing him and saying that he was famous, not for his own merits but because he was an athenian: 'if you had been a native of my country or i of yours, neither of us would have been famous.' and to those who are not rich and are impatient of old age, the same reply may be made; for to the good poor man old age cannot be a light burden, nor can a bad rich man ever have peace with himself. may i ask, cephalus, whether your fortune was for the most part inherited or acquired by you? acquired! socrates; do you want to know how much i acquired? in the art of making money i have been midway between my father and grandfather: for my grandfather, whose name i bear, doubled and trebled the value of his patrimony, that which he inherited being much what i possess now; but my father lysanias reduced the property below what it is at present: and i shall be satisfied if i leave to these my sons not less but a little more than i received. that was why i asked you the question, i replied, because i see that you are indifferent about money, which is a characteristic rather of those who have inherited their fortunes than of those who have acquired them; the makers of fortunes have a second love of money as a creation of their own, resembling the affection of authors for their own poems, or of parents for their children, besides that natural love of it for the sake of use and profit which is common to them and all men. and hence they are very bad company, for they can talk about nothing but the praises of wealth. that is true, he said. yes, that is very true, but may i ask another question?--what do you consider to be the greatest blessing which you have reaped from your wealth? one, he said, of which i could not expect easily to convince others. for let me tell you, socrates, that when a man thinks himself to be near death, fears and cares enter into his mind which he never had before; the tales of a world below and the punishment which is exacted there of deeds done here were once a laughing matter to him, but now he is tormented with the thought that they may be true: either from the weakness of age, or because he is now drawing nearer to that other place, he has a clearer view of these things; suspicions and alarms crowd thickly upon him, and he begins to reflect and consider what wrongs he has done to others. and when he finds that the sum of his transgressions is great he will many a time like a child start up in his sleep for fear, and he is filled with dark forebodings. but to him who is conscious of no sin, sweet hope, as pindar charmingly says, is the kind nurse of his age: 'hope,' he says, 'cherishes the soul of him who lives in justice and holiness, and is the nurse of his age and the companion of his journey;--hope which is mightiest to sway the restless soul of man.' how admirable are his words! and the great blessing of riches, i do not say to every man, but to a good man, is, that he has had no occasion to deceive or to defraud others, either intentionally or unintentionally; and when he departs to the world below he is not in any apprehension about offerings due to the gods or debts which he owes to men. now to this peace of mind the possession of wealth greatly contributes; and therefore i say, that, setting one thing against another, of the many advantages which wealth has to give, to a man of sense this is in my opinion the greatest. well said, cephalus, i replied; but as concerning justice, what is it?--to speak the truth and to pay your debts--no more than this? and even to this are there not exceptions? suppose that a friend when in his right mind has deposited arms with me and he asks for them when he is not in his right mind, ought i to give them back to him? no one would say that i ought or that i should be right in doing so, any more than they would say that i ought always to speak the truth to one who is in his condition. you are quite right, he replied. but then, i said, speaking the truth and paying your debts is not a correct definition of justice. quite correct, socrates, if simonides is to be believed, said polemarchus interposing. i fear, said cephalus, that i must go now, for i have to look after the sacrifices, and i hand over the argument to polemarchus and the company. is not polemarchus your heir? i said. to be sure, he answered, and went away laughing to the sacrifices. tell me then, o thou heir of the argument, what did simonides say, and according to you truly say, about justice? he said that the repayment of a debt is just, and in saying so he appears to me to be right. i should be sorry to doubt the word of such a wise and inspired man, but his meaning, though probably clear to you, is the reverse of clear to me. for he certainly does not mean, as we were just now saying, that i ought to return a deposit of arms or of anything else to one who asks for it when he is not in his right senses; and yet a deposit cannot be denied to be a debt. true. then when the person who asks me is not in his right mind i am by no means to make the return? certainly not. when simonides said that the repayment of a debt was justice, he did not mean to include that case? certainly not; for he thinks that a friend ought always to do good to a friend and never evil. you mean that the return of a deposit of gold which is to the injury of the receiver, if the two parties are friends, is not the repayment of a debt,--that is what you would imagine him to say? yes. and are enemies also to receive what we owe to them? to be sure, he said, they are to receive what we owe them, and an enemy, as i take it, owes to an enemy that which is due or proper to him--that is to say, evil. simonides, then, after the manner of poets, would seem to have spoken darkly of the nature of justice; for he really meant to say that justice is the giving to each man what is proper to him, and this he termed a debt. that must have been his meaning, he said. by heaven! i replied; and if we asked him what due or proper thing is given by medicine, and to whom, what answer do you think that he would make to us? he would surely reply that medicine gives drugs and meat and drink to human bodies. and what due or proper thing is given by cookery, and to what? seasoning to food. and what is that which justice gives, and to whom? if, socrates, we are to be guided at all by the analogy of the preceding instances, then justice is the art which gives good to friends and evil to enemies. that is his meaning then? i think so. and who is best able to do good to his friends and evil to his enemies in time of sickness? the physician. or when they are on a voyage, amid the perils of the sea? the pilot. and in what sort of actions or with a view to what result is the just man most able to do harm to his enemy and good to his friend? in going to war against the one and in making alliances with the other. but when a man is well, my dear polemarchus, there is no need of a physician? no. and he who is not on a voyage has no need of a pilot? no. then in time of peace justice will be of no use? i am very far from thinking so. you think that justice may be of use in peace as well as in war? yes. like husbandry for the acquisition of corn? yes. or like shoemaking for the acquisition of shoes,--that is what you mean? yes. and what similar use or power of acquisition has justice in time of peace? in contracts, socrates, justice is of use. and by contracts you mean partnerships? exactly. but is the just man or the skilful player a more useful and better partner at a game of draughts? the skilful player. and in the laying of bricks and stones is the just man a more useful or better partner than the builder? quite the reverse. then in what sort of partnership is the just man a better partner than the harp-player, as in playing the harp the harp-player is certainly a better partner than the just man? in a money partnership. yes, polemarchus, but surely not in the use of money; for you do not want a just man to be your counsellor in the purchase or sale of a horse; a man who is knowing about horses would be better for that, would he not? certainly. and when you want to buy a ship, the shipwright or the pilot would be better? true. then what is that joint use of silver or gold in which the just man is to be preferred? when you want a deposit to be kept safely. you mean when money is not wanted, but allowed to lie? precisely. that is to say, justice is useful when money is useless? that is the inference. and when you want to keep a pruning-hook safe, then justice is useful to the individual and to the state; but when you want to use it, then the art of the vine-dresser? clearly. and when you want to keep a shield or a lyre, and not to use them, you would say that justice is useful; but when you want to use them, then the art of the soldier or of the musician? certainly. and so of all other things;--justice is useful when they are useless, and useless when they are useful? that is the inference. then justice is not good for much. but let us consider this further point: is not he who can best strike a blow in a boxing match or in any kind of fighting best able to ward off a blow? certainly. and he who is most skilful in preventing or escaping from a disease is best able to create one? true. and he is the best guard of a camp who is best able to steal a march upon the enemy? certainly. then he who is a good keeper of anything is also a good thief? that, i suppose, is to be inferred. then if the just man is good at keeping money, he is good at stealing it. that is implied in the argument. then after all the just man has turned out to be a thief. and this is a lesson which i suspect you must have learnt out of homer; for he, speaking of autolycus, the maternal grandfather of odysseus, who is a favourite of his, affirms that 'he was excellent above all men in theft and perjury.' and so, you and homer and simonides are agreed that justice is an art of theft; to be practised however 'for the good of friends and for the harm of enemies,'--that was what you were saying? no, certainly not that, though i do not now know what i did say; but i still stand by the latter words. well, there is another question: by friends and enemies do we mean those who are so really, or only in seeming? surely, he said, a man may be expected to love those whom he thinks good, and to hate those whom he thinks evil. yes, but do not persons often err about good and evil: many who are not good seem to be so, and conversely? that is true. then to them the good will be enemies and the evil will be their friends? true. and in that case they will be right in doing good to the evil and evil to the good? clearly. but the good are just and would not do an injustice? true. then according to your argument it is just to injure those who do no wrong? nay, socrates; the doctrine is immoral. then i suppose that we ought to do good to the just and harm to the unjust? i like that better. but see the consequence:--many a man who is ignorant of human nature has friends who are bad friends, and in that case he ought to do harm to them; and he has good enemies whom he ought to benefit; but, if so, we shall be saying the very opposite of that which we affirmed to be the meaning of simonides. very true, he said: and i think that we had better correct an error into which we seem to have fallen in the use of the words 'friend' and 'enemy.' what was the error, polemarchus? i asked. we assumed that he is a friend who seems to be or who is thought good. and how is the error to be corrected? we should rather say that he is a friend who is, as well as seems, good; and that he who seems only, and is not good, only seems to be and is not a friend; and of an enemy the same may be said. you would argue that the good are our friends and the bad our enemies? yes. and instead of saying simply as we did at first, that it is just to do good to our friends and harm to our enemies, we should further say: it is just to do good to our friends when they are good and harm to our enemies when they are evil? yes, that appears to me to be the truth. but ought the just to injure any one at all? undoubtedly he ought to injure those who are both wicked and his enemies. when horses are injured, are they improved or deteriorated? the latter. deteriorated, that is to say, in the good qualities of horses, not of dogs? yes, of horses. and dogs are deteriorated in the good qualities of dogs, and not of horses? of course. and will not men who are injured be deteriorated in that which is the proper virtue of man? certainly. and that human virtue is justice? to be sure. then men who are injured are of necessity made unjust? that is the result. but can the musician by his art make men unmusical? certainly not. or the horseman by his art make them bad horsemen? impossible. and can the just by justice make men unjust, or speaking generally, can the good by virtue make them bad? assuredly not. any more than heat can produce cold? it cannot. or drought moisture? clearly not. nor can the good harm any one? impossible. and the just is the good? certainly. then to injure a friend or any one else is not the act of a just man, but of the opposite, who is the unjust? i think that what you say is quite true, socrates. then if a man says that justice consists in the repayment of debts, and that good is the debt which a just man owes to his friends, and evil the debt which he owes to his enemies,--to say this is not wise; for it is not true, if, as has been clearly shown, the injuring of another can be in no case just. i agree with you, said polemarchus. then you and i are prepared to take up arms against any one who attributes such a saying to simonides or bias or pittacus, or any other wise man or seer? i am quite ready to do battle at your side, he said. shall i tell you whose i believe the saying to be? whose? i believe that periander or perdiccas or xerxes or ismenias the theban, or some other rich and mighty man, who had a great opinion of his own power, was the first to say that justice is 'doing good to your friends and harm to your enemies.' most true, he said. yes, i said; but if this definition of justice also breaks down, what other can be offered? several times in the course of the discussion thrasymachus had made an attempt to get the argument into his own hands, and had been put down by the rest of the company, who wanted to hear the end. but when polemarchus and i had done speaking and there was a pause, he could no longer hold his peace; and, gathering himself up, he came at us like a wild beast, seeking to devour us. we were quite panic-stricken at the sight of him. he roared out to the whole company: what folly, socrates, has taken possession of you all? and why, sillybillies, do you knock under to one another? i say that if you want really to know what justice is, you should not only ask but answer, and you should not seek honour to yourself from the refutation of an opponent, but have your own answer; for there is many a one who can ask and cannot answer. and now i will not have you say that justice is duty or advantage or profit or gain or interest, for this sort of nonsense will not do for me; i must have clearness and accuracy. i was panic-stricken at his words, and could not look at him without trembling. indeed i believe that if i had not fixed my eye upon him, i should have been struck dumb: but when i saw his fury rising, i looked at him first, and was therefore able to reply to him. thrasymachus, i said, with a quiver, don't be hard upon us. polemarchus and i may have been guilty of a little mistake in the argument, but i can assure you that the error was not intentional. if we were seeking for a piece of gold, you would not imagine that we were 'knocking under to one another,' and so losing our chance of finding it. and why, when we are seeking for justice, a thing more precious than many pieces of gold, do you say that we are weakly yielding to one another and not doing our utmost to get at the truth? nay, my good friend, we are most willing and anxious to do so, but the fact is that we cannot. and if so, you people who know all things should pity us and not be angry with us. how characteristic of socrates! he replied, with a bitter laugh;--that's your ironical style! did i not foresee--have i not already told you, that whatever he was asked he would refuse to answer, and try irony or any other shuffle, in order that he might avoid answering? you are a philosopher, thrasymachus, i replied, and well know that if you ask a person what numbers make up twelve, taking care to prohibit him whom you ask from answering twice six, or three times four, or six times two, or four times three, 'for this sort of nonsense will not do for me,'--then obviously, if that is your way of putting the question, no one can answer you. but suppose that he were to retort, 'thrasymachus, what do you mean? if one of these numbers which you interdict be the true answer to the question, am i falsely to say some other number which is not the right one?--is that your meaning?'--how would you answer him? just as if the two cases were at all alike! he said. why should they not be? i replied; and even if they are not, but only appear to be so to the person who is asked, ought he not to say what he thinks, whether you and i forbid him or not? i presume then that you are going to make one of the interdicted answers? i dare say that i may, notwithstanding the danger, if upon reflection i approve of any of them. but what if i give you an answer about justice other and better, he said, than any of these? what do you deserve to have done to you? done to me!--as becomes the ignorant, i must learn from the wise--that is what i deserve to have done to me. what, and no payment! a pleasant notion! i will pay when i have the money, i replied. but you have, socrates, said glaucon: and you, thrasymachus, need be under no anxiety about money, for we will all make a contribution for socrates. yes, he replied, and then socrates will do as he always does--refuse to answer himself, but take and pull to pieces the answer of some one else. why, my good friend, i said, how can any one answer who knows, and says that he knows, just nothing; and who, even if he has some faint notions of his own, is told by a man of authority not to utter them? the natural thing is, that the speaker should be some one like yourself who professes to know and can tell what he knows. will you then kindly answer, for the edification of the company and of myself? glaucon and the rest of the company joined in my request, and thrasymachus, as any one might see, was in reality eager to speak; for he thought that he had an excellent answer, and would distinguish himself. but at first he affected to insist on my answering; at length he consented to begin. behold, he said, the wisdom of socrates; he refuses to teach himself, and goes about learning of others, to whom he never even says thank you. that i learn of others, i replied, is quite true; but that i am ungrateful i wholly deny. money i have none, and therefore i pay in praise, which is all i have; and how ready i am to praise any one who appears to me to speak well you will very soon find out when you answer; for i expect that you will answer well. listen, then, he said; i proclaim that justice is nothing else than the interest of the stronger. and now why do you not praise me? but of course you won't. let me first understand you, i replied. justice, as you say, is the interest of the stronger. what, thrasymachus, is the meaning of this? you cannot mean to say that because polydamas, the pancratiast, is stronger than we are, and finds the eating of beef conducive to his bodily strength, that to eat beef is therefore equally for our good who are weaker than he is, and right and just for us? that's abominable of you, socrates; you take the words in the sense which is most damaging to the argument. not at all, my good sir, i said; i am trying to understand them; and i wish that you would be a little clearer. well, he said, have you never heard that forms of government differ; there are tyrannies, and there are democracies, and there are aristocracies? yes, i know. and the government is the ruling power in each state? certainly. and the different forms of government make laws democratical, aristocratical, tyrannical, with a view to their several interests; and these laws, which are made by them for their own interests, are the justice which they deliver to their subjects, and him who transgresses them they punish as a breaker of the law, and unjust. and that is what i mean when i say that in all states there is the same principle of justice, which is the interest of the government; and as the government must be supposed to have power, the only reasonable conclusion is, that everywhere there is one principle of justice, which is the interest of the stronger. now i understand you, i said; and whether you are right or not i will try to discover. but let me remark, that in defining justice you have yourself used the word 'interest' which you forbade me to use. it is true, however, that in your definition the words 'of the stronger' are added. a small addition, you must allow, he said. great or small, never mind about that: we must first enquire whether what you are saying is the truth. now we are both agreed that justice is interest of some sort, but you go on to say 'of the stronger'; about this addition i am not so sure, and must therefore consider further. proceed. i will; and first tell me, do you admit that it is just for subjects to obey their rulers? i do. but are the rulers of states absolutely infallible, or are they sometimes liable to err? to be sure, he replied, they are liable to err. then in making their laws they may sometimes make them rightly, and sometimes not? true. when they make them rightly, they make them agreeably to their interest; when they are mistaken, contrary to their interest; you admit that? yes. and the laws which they make must be obeyed by their subjects,--and that is what you call justice? doubtless. then justice, according to your argument, is not only obedience to the interest of the stronger but the reverse? what is that you are saying? he asked. i am only repeating what you are saying, i believe. but let us consider: have we not admitted that the rulers may be mistaken about their own interest in what they command, and also that to obey them is justice? has not that been admitted? yes. then you must also have acknowledged justice not to be for the interest of the stronger, when the rulers unintentionally command things to be done which are to their own injury. for if, as you say, justice is the obedience which the subject renders to their commands, in that case, o wisest of men, is there any escape from the conclusion that the weaker are commanded to do, not what is for the interest, but what is for the injury of the stronger? nothing can be clearer, socrates, said polemarchus. yes, said cleitophon, interposing, if you are allowed to be his witness. but there is no need of any witness, said polemarchus, for thrasymachus himself acknowledges that rulers may sometimes command what is not for their own interest, and that for subjects to obey them is justice. yes, polemarchus,--thrasymachus said that for subjects to do what was commanded by their rulers is just. yes, cleitophon, but he also said that justice is the interest of the stronger, and, while admitting both these propositions, he further acknowledged that the stronger may command the weaker who are his subjects to do what is not for his own interest; whence follows that justice is the injury quite as much as the interest of the stronger. but, said cleitophon, he meant by the interest of the stronger what the stronger thought to be his interest,--this was what the weaker had to do; and this was affirmed by him to be justice. those were not his words, rejoined polemarchus. never mind, i replied, if he now says that they are, let us accept his statement. tell me, thrasymachus, i said, did you mean by justice what the stronger thought to be his interest, whether really so or not? certainly not, he said. do you suppose that i call him who is mistaken the stronger at the time when he is mistaken? yes, i said, my impression was that you did so, when you admitted that the ruler was not infallible but might be sometimes mistaken. you argue like an informer, socrates. do you mean, for example, that he who is mistaken about the sick is a physician in that he is mistaken? or that he who errs in arithmetic or grammar is an arithmetician or grammarian at the time when he is making the mistake, in respect of the mistake? true, we say that the physician or arithmetician or grammarian has made a mistake, but this is only a way of speaking; for the fact is that neither the grammarian nor any other person of skill ever makes a mistake in so far as he is what his name implies; they none of them err unless their skill fails them, and then they cease to be skilled artists. no artist or sage or ruler errs at the time when he is what his name implies; though he is commonly said to err, and i adopted the common mode of speaking. but to be perfectly accurate, since you are such a lover of accuracy, we should say that the ruler, in so far as he is a ruler, is unerring, and, being unerring, always commands that which is for his own interest; and the subject is required to execute his commands; and therefore, as i said at first and now repeat, justice is the interest of the stronger. indeed, thrasymachus, and do i really appear to you to argue like an informer? certainly, he replied. and do you suppose that i ask these questions with any design of injuring you in the argument? nay, he replied, 'suppose' is not the word--i know it; but you will be found out, and by sheer force of argument you will never prevail. i shall not make the attempt, my dear man; but to avoid any misunderstanding occurring between us in future, let me ask, in what sense do you speak of a ruler or stronger whose interest, as you were saying, he being the superior, it is just that the inferior should execute--is he a ruler in the popular or in the strict sense of the term? in the strictest of all senses, he said. and now cheat and play the informer if you can; i ask no quarter at your hands. but you never will be able, never. and do you imagine, i said, that i am such a madman as to try and cheat, thrasymachus? i might as well shave a lion. why, he said, you made the attempt a minute ago, and you failed. enough, i said, of these civilities. it will be better that i should ask you a question: is the physician, taken in that strict sense of which you are speaking, a healer of the sick or a maker of money? and remember that i am now speaking of the true physician. a healer of the sick, he replied. and the pilot--that is to say, the true pilot--is he a captain of sailors or a mere sailor? a captain of sailors. the circumstance that he sails in the ship is not to be taken into account; neither is he to be called a sailor; the name pilot by which he is distinguished has nothing to do with sailing, but is significant of his skill and of his authority over the sailors. very true, he said. now, i said, every art has an interest? certainly. for which the art has to consider and provide? yes, that is the aim of art. and the interest of any art is the perfection of it--this and nothing else? what do you mean? i mean what i may illustrate negatively by the example of the body. suppose you were to ask me whether the body is self-sufficing or has wants, i should reply: certainly the body has wants; for the body may be ill and require to be cured, and has therefore interests to which the art of medicine ministers; and this is the origin and intention of medicine, as you will acknowledge. am i not right? quite right, he replied. but is the art of medicine or any other art faulty or deficient in any quality in the same way that the eye may be deficient in sight or the ear fail of hearing, and therefore requires another art to provide for the interests of seeing and hearing--has art in itself, i say, any similar liability to fault or defect, and does every art require another supplementary art to provide for its interests, and that another and another without end? or have the arts to look only after their own interests? or have they no need either of themselves or of another?--having no faults or defects, they have no need to correct them, either by the exercise of their own art or of any other; they have only to consider the interest of their subject-matter. for every art remains pure and faultless while remaining true--that is to say, while perfect and unimpaired. take the words in your precise sense, and tell me whether i am not right. yes, clearly. then medicine does not consider the interest of medicine, but the interest of the body? true, he said. nor does the art of horsemanship consider the interests of the art of horsemanship, but the interests of the horse; neither do any other arts care for themselves, for they have no needs; they care only for that which is the subject of their art? true, he said. but surely, thrasymachus, the arts are the superiors and rulers of their own subjects? to this he assented with a good deal of reluctance. then, i said, no science or art considers or enjoins the interest of the stronger or superior, but only the interest of the subject and weaker? he made an attempt to contest this proposition also, but finally acquiesced. then, i continued, no physician, in so far as he is a physician, considers his own good in what he prescribes, but the good of his patient; for the true physician is also a ruler having the human body as a subject, and is not a mere money-maker; that has been admitted? yes. and the pilot likewise, in the strict sense of the term, is a ruler of sailors and not a mere sailor? that has been admitted. and such a pilot and ruler will provide and prescribe for the interest of the sailor who is under him, and not for his own or the ruler's interest? he gave a reluctant 'yes.' then, i said, thrasymachus, there is no one in any rule who, in so far as he is a ruler, considers or enjoins what is for his own interest, but always what is for the interest of his subject or suitable to his art; to that he looks, and that alone he considers in everything which he says and does. when we had got to this point in the argument, and every one saw that the definition of justice had been completely upset, thrasymachus, instead of replying to me, said: tell me, socrates, have you got a nurse? why do you ask such a question, i said, when you ought rather to be answering? because she leaves you to snivel, and never wipes your nose: she has not even taught you to know the shepherd from the sheep. what makes you say that? i replied. because you fancy that the shepherd or neatherd fattens or tends the sheep or oxen with a view to their own good and not to the good of himself or his master; and you further imagine that the rulers of states, if they are true rulers, never think of their subjects as sheep, and that they are not studying their own advantage day and night. oh, no; and so entirely astray are you in your ideas about the just and unjust as not even to know that justice and the just are in reality another's good; that is to say, the interest of the ruler and stronger, and the loss of the subject and servant; and injustice the opposite; for the unjust is lord over the truly simple and just: he is the stronger, and his subjects do what is for his interest, and minister to his happiness, which is very far from being their own. consider further, most foolish socrates, that the just is always a loser in comparison with the unjust. first of all, in private contracts: wherever the unjust is the partner of the just you will find that, when the partnership is dissolved, the unjust man has always more and the just less. secondly, in their dealings with the state: when there is an income-tax, the just man will pay more and the unjust less on the same amount of income; and when there is anything to be received the one gains nothing and the other much. observe also what happens when they take an office; there is the just man neglecting his affairs and perhaps suffering other losses, and getting nothing out of the public, because he is just; moreover he is hated by his friends and acquaintance for refusing to serve them in unlawful ways. but all this is reversed in the case of the unjust man. i am speaking, as before, of injustice on a large scale in which the advantage of the unjust is most apparent; and my meaning will be most clearly seen if we turn to that highest form of injustice in which the criminal is the happiest of men, and the sufferers or those who refuse to do injustice are the most miserable--that is to say tyranny, which by fraud and force takes away the property of others, not little by little but wholesale; comprehending in one, things sacred as well as profane, private and public; for which acts of wrong, if he were detected perpetrating any one of them singly, he would be punished and incur great disgrace--they who do such wrong in particular cases are called robbers of temples, and man-stealers and burglars and swindlers and thieves. but when a man besides taking away the money of the citizens has made slaves of them, then, instead of these names of reproach, he is termed happy and blessed, not only by the citizens but by all who hear of his having achieved the consummation of injustice. for mankind censure injustice, fearing that they may be the victims of it and not because they shrink from committing it. and thus, as i have shown, socrates, injustice, when on a sufficient scale, has more strength and freedom and mastery than justice; and, as i said at first, justice is the interest of the stronger, whereas injustice is a man's own profit and interest. thrasymachus, when he had thus spoken, having, like a bath-man, deluged our ears with his words, had a mind to go away. but the company would not let him; they insisted that he should remain and defend his position; and i myself added my own humble request that he would not leave us. thrasymachus, i said to him, excellent man, how suggestive are your remarks! and are you going to run away before you have fairly taught or learned whether they are true or not? is the attempt to determine the way of man's life so small a matter in your eyes--to determine how life may be passed by each one of us to the greatest advantage? and do i differ from you, he said, as to the importance of the enquiry? you appear rather, i replied, to have no care or thought about us, thrasymachus--whether we live better or worse from not knowing what you say you know, is to you a matter of indifference. prithee, friend, do not keep your knowledge to yourself; we are a large party; and any benefit which you confer upon us will be amply rewarded. for my own part i openly declare that i am not convinced, and that i do not believe injustice to be more gainful than justice, even if uncontrolled and allowed to have free play. for, granting that there may be an unjust man who is able to commit injustice either by fraud or force, still this does not convince me of the superior advantage of injustice, and there may be others who are in the same predicament with myself. perhaps we may be wrong; if so, you in your wisdom should convince us that we are mistaken in preferring justice to injustice. and how am i to convince you, he said, if you are not already convinced by what i have just said; what more can i do for you? would you have me put the proof bodily into your souls? heaven forbid! i said; i would only ask you to be consistent; or, if you change, change openly and let there be no deception. for i must remark, thrasymachus, if you will recall what was previously said, that although you began by defining the true physician in an exact sense, you did not observe a like exactness when speaking of the shepherd; you thought that the shepherd as a shepherd tends the sheep not with a view to their own good, but like a mere diner or banquetter with a view to the pleasures of the table; or, again, as a trader for sale in the market, and not as a shepherd. yet surely the art of the shepherd is concerned only with the good of his subjects; he has only to provide the best for them, since the perfection of the art is already ensured whenever all the requirements of it are satisfied. and that was what i was saying just now about the ruler. i conceived that the art of the ruler, considered as ruler, whether in a state or in private life, could only regard the good of his flock or subjects; whereas you seem to think that the rulers in states, that is to say, the true rulers, like being in authority. think! nay, i am sure of it. then why in the case of lesser offices do men never take them willingly without payment, unless under the idea that they govern for the advantage not of themselves but of others? let me ask you a question: are not the several arts different, by reason of their each having a separate function? and, my dear illustrious friend, do say what you think, that we may make a little progress. yes, that is the difference, he replied. and each art gives us a particular good and not merely a general one--medicine, for example, gives us health; navigation, safety at sea, and so on? yes, he said. and the art of payment has the special function of giving pay: but we do not confuse this with other arts, any more than the art of the pilot is to be confused with the art of medicine, because the health of the pilot may be improved by a sea voyage. you would not be inclined to say, would you, that navigation is the art of medicine, at least if we are to adopt your exact use of language? certainly not. or because a man is in good health when he receives pay you would not say that the art of payment is medicine? i should not. nor would you say that medicine is the art of receiving pay because a man takes fees when he is engaged in healing? certainly not. and we have admitted, i said, that the good of each art is specially confined to the art? yes. then, if there be any good which all artists have in common, that is to be attributed to something of which they all have the common use? true, he replied. and when the artist is benefited by receiving pay the advantage is gained by an additional use of the art of pay, which is not the art professed by him? he gave a reluctant assent to this. then the pay is not derived by the several artists from their respective arts. but the truth is, that while the art of medicine gives health, and the art of the builder builds a house, another art attends them which is the art of pay. the various arts may be doing their own business and benefiting that over which they preside, but would the artist receive any benefit from his art unless he were paid as well? i suppose not. but does he therefore confer no benefit when he works for nothing? certainly, he confers a benefit. then now, thrasymachus, there is no longer any doubt that neither arts nor governments provide for their own interests; but, as we were before saying, they rule and provide for the interests of their subjects who are the weaker and not the stronger--to their good they attend and not to the good of the superior. and this is the reason, my dear thrasymachus, why, as i was just now saying, no one is willing to govern; because no one likes to take in hand the reformation of evils which are not his concern without remuneration. for, in the execution of his work, and in giving his orders to another, the true artist does not regard his own interest, but always that of his subjects; and therefore in order that rulers may be willing to rule, they must be paid in one of three modes of payment, money, or honour, or a penalty for refusing. what do you mean, socrates? said glaucon. the first two modes of payment are intelligible enough, but what the penalty is i do not understand, or how a penalty can be a payment. you mean that you do not understand the nature of this payment which to the best men is the great inducement to rule? of course you know that ambition and avarice are held to be, as indeed they are, a disgrace? very true. and for this reason, i said, money and honour have no attraction for them; good men do not wish to be openly demanding payment for governing and so to get the name of hirelings, nor by secretly helping themselves out of the public revenues to get the name of thieves. and not being ambitious they do not care about honour. wherefore necessity must be laid upon them, and they must be induced to serve from the fear of punishment. and this, as i imagine, is the reason why the forwardness to take office, instead of waiting to be compelled, has been deemed dishonourable. now the worst part of the punishment is that he who refuses to rule is liable to be ruled by one who is worse than himself. and the fear of this, as i conceive, induces the good to take office, not because they would, but because they cannot help--not under the idea that they are going to have any benefit or enjoyment themselves, but as a necessity, and because they are not able to commit the task of ruling to any one who is better than themselves, or indeed as good. for there is reason to think that if a city were composed entirely of good men, then to avoid office would be as much an object of contention as to obtain office is at present; then we should have plain proof that the true ruler is not meant by nature to regard his own interest, but that of his subjects; and every one who knew this would choose rather to receive a benefit from another than to have the trouble of conferring one. so far am i from agreeing with thrasymachus that justice is the interest of the stronger. this latter question need not be further discussed at present; but when thrasymachus says that the life of the unjust is more advantageous than that of the just, his new statement appears to me to be of a far more serious character. which of us has spoken truly? and which sort of life, glaucon, do you prefer? i for my part deem the life of the just to be the more advantageous, he answered. did you hear all the advantages of the unjust which thrasymachus was rehearsing? yes, i heard him, he replied, but he has not convinced me. then shall we try to find some way of convincing him, if we can, that he is saying what is not true? most certainly, he replied. if, i said, he makes a set speech and we make another recounting all the advantages of being just, and he answers and we rejoin, there must be a numbering and measuring of the goods which are claimed on either side, and in the end we shall want judges to decide; but if we proceed in our enquiry as we lately did, by making admissions to one another, we shall unite the offices of judge and advocate in our own persons. very good, he said. and which method do i understand you to prefer? i said. that which you propose. well, then, thrasymachus, i said, suppose you begin at the beginning and answer me. you say that perfect injustice is more gainful than perfect justice? yes, that is what i say, and i have given you my reasons. and what is your view about them? would you call one of them virtue and the other vice? certainly. i suppose that you would call justice virtue and injustice vice? what a charming notion! so likely too, seeing that i affirm injustice to be profitable and justice not. what else then would you say? the opposite, he replied. and would you call justice vice? no, i would rather say sublime simplicity. then would you call injustice malignity? no; i would rather say discretion. and do the unjust appear to you to be wise and good? yes, he said; at any rate those of them who are able to be perfectly unjust, and who have the power of subduing states and nations; but perhaps you imagine me to be talking of cutpurses. even this profession if undetected has advantages, though they are not to be compared with those of which i was just now speaking. i do not think that i misapprehend your meaning, thrasymachus, i replied; but still i cannot hear without amazement that you class injustice with wisdom and virtue, and justice with the opposite. certainly i do so class them. now, i said, you are on more substantial and almost unanswerable ground; for if the injustice which you were maintaining to be profitable had been admitted by you as by others to be vice and deformity, an answer might have been given to you on received principles; but now i perceive that you will call injustice honourable and strong, and to the unjust you will attribute all the qualities which were attributed by us before to the just, seeing that you do not hesitate to rank injustice with wisdom and virtue. you have guessed most infallibly, he replied. then i certainly ought not to shrink from going through with the argument so long as i have reason to think that you, thrasymachus, are speaking your real mind; for i do believe that you are now in earnest and are not amusing yourself at our expense. i may be in earnest or not, but what is that to you?--to refute the argument is your business. very true, i said; that is what i have to do: but will you be so good as answer yet one more question? does the just man try to gain any advantage over the just? far otherwise; if he did he would not be the simple amusing creature which he is. and would he try to go beyond just action? he would not. and how would he regard the attempt to gain an advantage over the unjust; would that be considered by him as just or unjust? he would think it just, and would try to gain the advantage; but he would not be able. whether he would or would not be able, i said, is not to the point. my question is only whether the just man, while refusing to have more than another just man, would wish and claim to have more than the unjust? yes, he would. and what of the unjust--does he claim to have more than the just man and to do more than is just? of course, he said, for he claims to have more than all men. and the unjust man will strive and struggle to obtain more than the unjust man or action, in order that he may have more than all? true. we may put the matter thus, i said--the just does not desire more than his like but more than his unlike, whereas the unjust desires more than both his like and his unlike? nothing, he said, can be better than that statement. and the unjust is good and wise, and the just is neither? good again, he said. and is not the unjust like the wise and good and the just unlike them? of course, he said, he who is of a certain nature, is like those who are of a certain nature; he who is not, not. each of them, i said, is such as his like is? certainly, he replied. very good, thrasymachus, i said; and now to take the case of the arts: you would admit that one man is a musician and another not a musician? yes. and which is wise and which is foolish? clearly the musician is wise, and he who is not a musician is foolish. and he is good in as far as he is wise, and bad in as far as he is foolish? yes. and you would say the same sort of thing of the physician? yes. and do you think, my excellent friend, that a musician when he adjusts the lyre would desire or claim to exceed or go beyond a musician in the tightening and loosening the strings? i do not think that he would. but he would claim to exceed the non-musician? of course. and what would you say of the physician? in prescribing meats and drinks would he wish to go beyond another physician or beyond the practice of medicine? he would not. but he would wish to go beyond the non-physician? yes. and about knowledge and ignorance in general; see whether you think that any man who has knowledge ever would wish to have the choice of saying or doing more than another man who has knowledge. would he not rather say or do the same as his like in the same case? that, i suppose, can hardly be denied. and what of the ignorant? would he not desire to have more than either the knowing or the ignorant? i dare say. and the knowing is wise? yes. and the wise is good? true. then the wise and good will not desire to gain more than his like, but more than his unlike and opposite? i suppose so. whereas the bad and ignorant will desire to gain more than both? yes. but did we not say, thrasymachus, that the unjust goes beyond both his like and unlike? were not these your words? they were. and you also said that the just will not go beyond his like but his unlike? yes. then the just is like the wise and good, and the unjust like the evil and ignorant? that is the inference. and each of them is such as his like is? that was admitted. then the just has turned out to be wise and good and the unjust evil and ignorant. thrasymachus made all these admissions, not fluently, as i repeat them, but with extreme reluctance; it was a hot summer's day, and the perspiration poured from him in torrents; and then i saw what i had never seen before, thrasymachus blushing. as we were now agreed that justice was virtue and wisdom, and injustice vice and ignorance, i proceeded to another point: well, i said, thrasymachus, that matter is now settled; but were we not also saying that injustice had strength; do you remember? yes, i remember, he said, but do not suppose that i approve of what you are saying or have no answer; if however i were to answer, you would be quite certain to accuse me of haranguing; therefore either permit me to have my say out, or if you would rather ask, do so, and i will answer 'very good,' as they say to story-telling old women, and will nod 'yes' and 'no.' certainly not, i said, if contrary to your real opinion. yes, he said, i will, to please you, since you will not let me speak. what else would you have? nothing in the world, i said; and if you are so disposed i will ask and you shall answer. proceed. then i will repeat the question which i asked before, in order that our examination of the relative nature of justice and injustice may be carried on regularly. a statement was made that injustice is stronger and more powerful than justice, but now justice, having been identified with wisdom and virtue, is easily shown to be stronger than injustice, if injustice is ignorance; this can no longer be questioned by any one. but i want to view the matter, thrasymachus, in a different way: you would not deny that a state may be unjust and may be unjustly attempting to enslave other states, or may have already enslaved them, and may be holding many of them in subjection? true, he replied; and i will add that the best and most perfectly unjust state will be most likely to do so. i know, i said, that such was your position; but what i would further consider is, whether this power which is possessed by the superior state can exist or be exercised without justice or only with justice. if you are right in your view, and justice is wisdom, then only with justice; but if i am right, then without justice. i am delighted, thrasymachus, to see you not only nodding assent and dissent, but making answers which are quite excellent. that is out of civility to you, he replied. you are very kind, i said; and would you have the goodness also to inform me, whether you think that a state, or an army, or a band of robbers and thieves, or any other gang of evil-doers could act at all if they injured one another? no indeed, he said, they could not. but if they abstained from injuring one another, then they might act together better? yes. and this is because injustice creates divisions and hatreds and fighting, and justice imparts harmony and friendship; is not that true, thrasymachus? i agree, he said, because i do not wish to quarrel with you. how good of you, i said; but i should like to know also whether injustice, having this tendency to arouse hatred, wherever existing, among slaves or among freemen, will not make them hate one another and set them at variance and render them incapable of common action? certainly. and even if injustice be found in two only, will they not quarrel and fight, and become enemies to one another and to the just? they will. and suppose injustice abiding in a single person, would your wisdom say that she loses or that she retains her natural power? let us assume that she retains her power. yet is not the power which injustice exercises of such a nature that wherever she takes up her abode, whether in a city, in an army, in a family, or in any other body, that body is, to begin with, rendered incapable of united action by reason of sedition and distraction; and does it not become its own enemy and at variance with all that opposes it, and with the just? is not this the case? yes, certainly. and is not injustice equally fatal when existing in a single person; in the first place rendering him incapable of action because he is not at unity with himself, and in the second place making him an enemy to himself and the just? is not that true, thrasymachus? yes. and o my friend, i said, surely the gods are just? granted that they are. but if so, the unjust will be the enemy of the gods, and the just will be their friend? feast away in triumph, and take your fill of the argument; i will not oppose you, lest i should displease the company. well then, proceed with your answers, and let me have the remainder of my repast. for we have already shown that the just are clearly wiser and better and abler than the unjust, and that the unjust are incapable of common action; nay more, that to speak as we did of men who are evil acting at any time vigorously together, is not strictly true, for if they had been perfectly evil, they would have laid hands upon one another; but it is evident that there must have been some remnant of justice in them, which enabled them to combine; if there had not been they would have injured one another as well as their victims; they were but half-villains in their enterprises; for had they been whole villains, and utterly unjust, they would have been utterly incapable of action. that, as i believe, is the truth of the matter, and not what you said at first. but whether the just have a better and happier life than the unjust is a further question which we also proposed to consider. i think that they have, and for the reasons which i have given; but still i should like to examine further, for no light matter is at stake, nothing less than the rule of human life. proceed. i will proceed by asking a question: would you not say that a horse has some end? i should. and the end or use of a horse or of anything would be that which could not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing? i do not understand, he said. let me explain: can you see, except with the eye? certainly not. or hear, except with the ear? no. these then may be truly said to be the ends of these organs? they may. but you can cut off a vine-branch with a dagger or with a chisel, and in many other ways? of course. and yet not so well as with a pruning-hook made for the purpose? true. may we not say that this is the end of a pruning-hook? we may. then now i think you will have no difficulty in understanding my meaning when i asked the question whether the end of anything would be that which could not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing? i understand your meaning, he said, and assent. and that to which an end is appointed has also an excellence? need i ask again whether the eye has an end? it has. and has not the eye an excellence? yes. and the ear has an end and an excellence also? true. and the same is true of all other things; they have each of them an end and a special excellence? that is so. well, and can the eyes fulfil their end if they are wanting in their own proper excellence and have a defect instead? how can they, he said, if they are blind and cannot see? you mean to say, if they have lost their proper excellence, which is sight; but i have not arrived at that point yet. i would rather ask the question more generally, and only enquire whether the things which fulfil their ends fulfil them by their own proper excellence, and fail of fulfilling them by their own defect? certainly, he replied. i might say the same of the ears; when deprived of their own proper excellence they cannot fulfil their end? true. and the same observation will apply to all other things? i agree. well; and has not the soul an end which nothing else can fulfil? for example, to superintend and command and deliberate and the like. are not these functions proper to the soul, and can they rightly be assigned to any other? to no other. and is not life to be reckoned among the ends of the soul? assuredly, he said. and has not the soul an excellence also? yes. and can she or can she not fulfil her own ends when deprived of that excellence? she cannot. then an evil soul must necessarily be an evil ruler and superintendent, and the good soul a good ruler? yes, necessarily. and we have admitted that justice is the excellence of the soul, and injustice the defect of the soul? that has been admitted. then the just soul and the just man will live well, and the unjust man will live ill? that is what your argument proves. and he who lives well is blessed and happy, and he who lives ill the reverse of happy? certainly. then the just is happy, and the unjust miserable? so be it. but happiness and not misery is profitable. of course. then, my blessed thrasymachus, injustice can never be more profitable than justice. let this, socrates, he said, be your entertainment at the bendidea. for which i am indebted to you, i said, now that you have grown gentle towards me and have left off scolding. nevertheless, i have not been well entertained; but that was my own fault and not yours. as an epicure snatches a taste of every dish which is successively brought to table, he not having allowed himself time to enjoy the one before, so have i gone from one subject to another without having discovered what i sought at first, the nature of justice. i left that enquiry and turned away to consider whether justice is virtue and wisdom or evil and folly; and when there arose a further question about the comparative advantages of justice and injustice, i could not refrain from passing on to that. and the result of the whole discussion has been that i know nothing at all. for i know not what justice is, and therefore i am not likely to know whether it is or is not a virtue, nor can i say whether the just man is happy or unhappy. book ii. with these words i was thinking that i had made an end of the discussion; but the end, in truth, proved to be only a beginning. for glaucon, who is always the most pugnacious of men, was dissatisfied at thrasymachus' retirement; he wanted to have the battle out. so he said to me: socrates, do you wish really to persuade us, or only to seem to have persuaded us, that to be just is always better than to be unjust? i should wish really to persuade you, i replied, if i could. then you certainly have not succeeded. let me ask you now:--how would you arrange goods--are there not some which we welcome for their own sakes, and independently of their consequences, as, for example, harmless pleasures and enjoyments, which delight us at the time, although nothing follows from them? i agree in thinking that there is such a class, i replied. is there not also a second class of goods, such as knowledge, sight, health, which are desirable not only in themselves, but also for their results? certainly, i said. and would you not recognize a third class, such as gymnastic, and the care of the sick, and the physician's art; also the various ways of money-making--these do us good but we regard them as disagreeable; and no one would choose them for their own sakes, but only for the sake of some reward or result which flows from them? there is, i said, this third class also. but why do you ask? because i want to know in which of the three classes you would place justice? in the highest class, i replied,--among those goods which he who would be happy desires both for their own sake and for the sake of their results. then the many are of another mind; they think that justice is to be reckoned in the troublesome class, among goods which are to be pursued for the sake of rewards and of reputation, but in themselves are disagreeable and rather to be avoided. i know, i said, that this is their manner of thinking, and that this was the thesis which thrasymachus was maintaining just now, when he censured justice and praised injustice. but i am too stupid to be convinced by him. i wish, he said, that you would hear me as well as him, and then i shall see whether you and i agree. for thrasymachus seems to me, like a snake, to have been charmed by your voice sooner than he ought to have been; but to my mind the nature of justice and injustice have not yet been made clear. setting aside their rewards and results, i want to know what they are in themselves, and how they inwardly work in the soul. if you, please, then, i will revive the argument of thrasymachus. and first i will speak of the nature and origin of justice according to the common view of them. secondly, i will show that all men who practise justice do so against their will, of necessity, but not as a good. and thirdly, i will argue that there is reason in this view, for the life of the unjust is after all better far than the life of the just--if what they say is true, socrates, since i myself am not of their opinion. but still i acknowledge that i am perplexed when i hear the voices of thrasymachus and myriads of others dinning in my ears; and, on the other hand, i have never yet heard the superiority of justice to injustice maintained by any one in a satisfactory way. i want to hear justice praised in respect of itself; then i shall be satisfied, and you are the person from whom i think that i am most likely to hear this; and therefore i will praise the unjust life to the utmost of my power, and my manner of speaking will indicate the manner in which i desire to hear you too praising justice and censuring injustice. will you say whether you approve of my proposal? indeed i do; nor can i imagine any theme about which a man of sense would oftener wish to converse. i am delighted, he replied, to hear you say so, and shall begin by speaking, as i proposed, of the nature and origin of justice. they say that to do injustice is, by nature, good; to suffer injustice, evil; but that the evil is greater than the good. and so when men have both done and suffered injustice and have had experience of both, not being able to avoid the one and obtain the other, they think that they had better agree among themselves to have neither; hence there arise laws and mutual covenants; and that which is ordained by law is termed by them lawful and just. this they affirm to be the origin and nature of justice;--it is a mean or compromise, between the best of all, which is to do injustice and not be punished, and the worst of all, which is to suffer injustice without the power of retaliation; and justice, being at a middle point between the two, is tolerated not as a good, but as the lesser evil, and honoured by reason of the inability of men to do injustice. for no man who is worthy to be called a man would ever submit to such an agreement if he were able to resist; he would be mad if he did. such is the received account, socrates, of the nature and origin of justice. now that those who practise justice do so involuntarily and because they have not the power to be unjust will best appear if we imagine something of this kind: having given both to the just and the unjust power to do what they will, let us watch and see whither desire will lead them; then we shall discover in the very act the just and unjust man to be proceeding along the same road, following their interest, which all natures deem to be their good, and are only diverted into the path of justice by the force of law. the liberty which we are supposing may be most completely given to them in the form of such a power as is said to have been possessed by gyges, the ancestor of croesus the lydian. according to the tradition, gyges was a shepherd in the service of the king of lydia; there was a great storm, and an earthquake made an opening in the earth at the place where he was feeding his flock. amazed at the sight, he descended into the opening, where, among other marvels, he beheld a hollow brazen horse, having doors, at which he stooping and looking in saw a dead body of stature, as appeared to him, more than human, and having nothing on but a gold ring; this he took from the finger of the dead and reascended. now the shepherds met together, according to custom, that they might send their monthly report about the flocks to the king; into their assembly he came having the ring on his finger, and as he was sitting among them he chanced to turn the collet of the ring inside his hand, when instantly he became invisible to the rest of the company and they began to speak of him as if he were no longer present. he was astonished at this, and again touching the ring he turned the collet outwards and reappeared; he made several trials of the ring, and always with the same result--when he turned the collet inwards he became invisible, when outwards he reappeared. whereupon he contrived to be chosen one of the messengers who were sent to the court; whereas soon as he arrived he seduced the queen, and with her help conspired against the king and slew him, and took the kingdom. suppose now that there were two such magic rings, and the just put on one of them and the unjust the other; no man can be imagined to be of such an iron nature that he would stand fast in justice. no man would keep his hands off what was not his own when he could safely take what he liked out of the market, or go into houses and lie with any one at his pleasure, or kill or release from prison whom he would, and in all respects be like a god among men. then the actions of the just would be as the actions of the unjust; they would both come at last to the same point. and this we may truly affirm to be a great proof that a man is just, not willingly or because he thinks that justice is any good to him individually, but of necessity, for wherever any one thinks that he can safely be unjust, there he is unjust. for all men believe in their hearts that injustice is far more profitable to the individual than justice, and he who argues as i have been supposing, will say that they are right. if you could imagine any one obtaining this power of becoming invisible, and never doing any wrong or touching what was another's, he would be thought by the lookers-on to be a most wretched idiot, although they would praise him to one another's faces, and keep up appearances with one another from a fear that they too might suffer injustice. enough of this. now, if we are to form a real judgment of the life of the just and unjust, we must isolate them; there is no other way; and how is the isolation to be effected? i answer: let the unjust man be entirely unjust, and the just man entirely just; nothing is to be taken away from either of them, and both are to be perfectly furnished for the work of their respective lives. first, let the unjust be like other distinguished masters of craft; like the skilful pilot or physician, who knows intuitively his own powers and keeps within their limits, and who, if he fails at any point, is able to recover himself. so let the unjust make his unjust attempts in the right way, and lie hidden if he means to be great in his injustice: (he who is found out is nobody:) for the highest reach of injustice is, to be deemed just when you are not. therefore i say that in the perfectly unjust man we must assume the most perfect injustice; there is to be no deduction, but we must allow him, while doing the most unjust acts, to have acquired the greatest reputation for justice. if he have taken a false step he must be able to recover himself; he must be one who can speak with effect, if any of his deeds come to light, and who can force his way where force is required by his courage and strength, and command of money and friends. and at his side let us place the just man in his nobleness and simplicity, wishing, as aeschylus says, to be and not to seem good. there must be no seeming, for if he seem to be just he will be honoured and rewarded, and then we shall not know whether he is just for the sake of justice or for the sake of honours and rewards; therefore, let him be clothed in justice only, and have no other covering; and he must be imagined in a state of life the opposite of the former. let him be the best of men, and let him be thought the worst; then he will have been put to the proof; and we shall see whether he will be affected by the fear of infamy and its consequences. and let him continue thus to the hour of death; being just and seeming to be unjust. when both have reached the uttermost extreme, the one of justice and the other of injustice, let judgment be given which of them is the happier of the two. heavens! my dear glaucon, i said, how energetically you polish them up for the decision, first one and then the other, as if they were two statues. i do my best, he said. and now that we know what they are like there is no difficulty in tracing out the sort of life which awaits either of them. this i will proceed to describe; but as you may think the description a little too coarse, i ask you to suppose, socrates, that the words which follow are not mine.--let me put them into the mouths of the eulogists of injustice: they will tell you that the just man who is thought unjust will be scourged, racked, bound--will have his eyes burnt out; and, at last, after suffering every kind of evil, he will be impaled: then he will understand that he ought to seem only, and not to be, just; the words of aeschylus may be more truly spoken of the unjust than of the just. for the unjust is pursuing a reality; he does not live with a view to appearances--he wants to be really unjust and not to seem only:-- 'his mind has a soil deep and fertile, out of which spring his prudent counsels.' in the first place, he is thought just, and therefore bears rule in the city; he can marry whom he will, and give in marriage to whom he will; also he can trade and deal where he likes, and always to his own advantage, because he has no misgivings about injustice; and at every contest, whether in public or private, he gets the better of his antagonists, and gains at their expense, and is rich, and out of his gains he can benefit his friends, and harm his enemies; moreover, he can offer sacrifices, and dedicate gifts to the gods abundantly and magnificently, and can honour the gods or any man whom he wants to honour in a far better style than the just, and therefore he is likely to be dearer than they are to the gods. and thus, socrates, gods and men are said to unite in making the life of the unjust better than the life of the just. i was going to say something in answer to glaucon, when adeimantus, his brother, interposed: socrates, he said, you do not suppose that there is nothing more to be urged? why, what else is there? i answered. the strongest point of all has not been even mentioned, he replied. well, then, according to the proverb, 'let brother help brother'--if he fails in any part do you assist him; although i must confess that glaucon has already said quite enough to lay me in the dust, and take from me the power of helping justice. nonsense, he replied. but let me add something more: there is another side to glaucon's argument about the praise and censure of justice and injustice, which is equally required in order to bring out what i believe to be his meaning. parents and tutors are always telling their sons and their wards that they are to be just; but why? not for the sake of justice, but for the sake of character and reputation; in the hope of obtaining for him who is reputed just some of those offices, marriages, and the like which glaucon has enumerated among the advantages accruing to the unjust from the reputation of justice. more, however, is made of appearances by this class of persons than by the others; for they throw in the good opinion of the gods, and will tell you of a shower of benefits which the heavens, as they say, rain upon the pious; and this accords with the testimony of the noble hesiod and homer, the first of whom says, that the gods make the oaks of the just-- 'to bear acorns at their summit, and bees in the middle; and the sheep are bowed down with the weight of their fleeces,' and many other blessings of a like kind are provided for them. and homer has a very similar strain; for he speaks of one whose fame is-- 'as the fame of some blameless king who, like a god, maintains justice; to whom the black earth brings forth wheat and barley, whose trees are bowed with fruit, and his sheep never fail to bear, and the sea gives him fish.' still grander are the gifts of heaven which musaeus and his son vouchsafe to the just; they take them down into the world below, where they have the saints lying on couches at a feast, everlastingly drunk, crowned with garlands; their idea seems to be that an immortality of drunkenness is the highest meed of virtue. some extend their rewards yet further; the posterity, as they say, of the faithful and just shall survive to the third and fourth generation. this is the style in which they praise justice. but about the wicked there is another strain; they bury them in a slough in hades, and make them carry water in a sieve; also while they are yet living they bring them to infamy, and inflict upon them the punishments which glaucon described as the portion of the just who are reputed to be unjust; nothing else does their invention supply. such is their manner of praising the one and censuring the other. once more, socrates, i will ask you to consider another way of speaking about justice and injustice, which is not confined to the poets, but is found in prose writers. the universal voice of mankind is always declaring that justice and virtue are honourable, but grievous and toilsome; and that the pleasures of vice and injustice are easy of attainment, and are only censured by law and opinion. they say also that honesty is for the most part less profitable than dishonesty; and they are quite ready to call wicked men happy, and to honour them both in public and private when they are rich or in any other way influential, while they despise and overlook those who may be weak and poor, even though acknowledging them to be better than the others. but most extraordinary of all is their mode of speaking about virtue and the gods: they say that the gods apportion calamity and misery to many good men, and good and happiness to the wicked. and mendicant prophets go to rich men's doors and persuade them that they have a power committed to them by the gods of making an atonement for a man's own or his ancestor's sins by sacrifices or charms, with rejoicings and feasts; and they promise to harm an enemy, whether just or unjust, at a small cost; with magic arts and incantations binding heaven, as they say, to execute their will. and the poets are the authorities to whom they appeal, now smoothing the path of vice with the words of hesiod;-- 'vice may be had in abundance without trouble; the way is smooth and her dwelling-place is near. but before virtue the gods have set toil,' and a tedious and uphill road: then citing homer as a witness that the gods may be influenced by men; for he also says:-- 'the gods, too, may be turned from their purpose; and men pray to them and avert their wrath by sacrifices and soothing entreaties, and by libations and the odour of fat, when they have sinned and transgressed.' and they produce a host of books written by musaeus and orpheus, who were children of the moon and the muses--that is what they say--according to which they perform their ritual, and persuade not only individuals, but whole cities, that expiations and atonements for sin may be made by sacrifices and amusements which fill a vacant hour, and are equally at the service of the living and the dead; the latter sort they call mysteries, and they redeem us from the pains of hell, but if we neglect them no one knows what awaits us. he proceeded: and now when the young hear all this said about virtue and vice, and the way in which gods and men regard them, how are their minds likely to be affected, my dear socrates,--those of them, i mean, who are quickwitted, and, like bees on the wing, light on every flower, and from all that they hear are prone to draw conclusions as to what manner of persons they should be and in what way they should walk if they would make the best of life? probably the youth will say to himself in the words of pindar-- 'can i by justice or by crooked ways of deceit ascend a loftier tower which may be a fortress to me all my days?' for what men say is that, if i am really just and am not also thought just profit there is none, but the pain and loss on the other hand are unmistakeable. but if, though unjust, i acquire the reputation of justice, a heavenly life is promised to me. since then, as philosophers prove, appearance tyrannizes over truth and is lord of happiness, to appearance i must devote myself. i will describe around me a picture and shadow of virtue to be the vestibule and exterior of my house; behind i will trail the subtle and crafty fox, as archilochus, greatest of sages, recommends. but i hear some one exclaiming that the concealment of wickedness is often difficult; to which i answer, nothing great is easy. nevertheless, the argument indicates this, if we would be happy, to be the path along which we should proceed. with a view to concealment we will establish secret brotherhoods and political clubs. and there are professors of rhetoric who teach the art of persuading courts and assemblies; and so, partly by persuasion and partly by force, i shall make unlawful gains and not be punished. still i hear a voice saying that the gods cannot be deceived, neither can they be compelled. but what if there are no gods? or, suppose them to have no care of human things--why in either case should we mind about concealment? and even if there are gods, and they do care about us, yet we know of them only from tradition and the genealogies of the poets; and these are the very persons who say that they may be influenced and turned by 'sacrifices and soothing entreaties and by offerings.' let us be consistent then, and believe both or neither. if the poets speak truly, why then we had better be unjust, and offer of the fruits of injustice; for if we are just, although we may escape the vengeance of heaven, we shall lose the gains of injustice; but, if we are unjust, we shall keep the gains, and by our sinning and praying, and praying and sinning, the gods will be propitiated, and we shall not be punished. 'but there is a world below in which either we or our posterity will suffer for our unjust deeds.' yes, my friend, will be the reflection, but there are mysteries and atoning deities, and these have great power. that is what mighty cities declare; and the children of the gods, who were their poets and prophets, bear a like testimony. on what principle, then, shall we any longer choose justice rather than the worst injustice? when, if we only unite the latter with a deceitful regard to appearances, we shall fare to our mind both with gods and men, in life and after death, as the most numerous and the highest authorities tell us. knowing all this, socrates, how can a man who has any superiority of mind or person or rank or wealth, be willing to honour justice; or indeed to refrain from laughing when he hears justice praised? and even if there should be some one who is able to disprove the truth of my words, and who is satisfied that justice is best, still he is not angry with the unjust, but is very ready to forgive them, because he also knows that men are not just of their own free will; unless, peradventure, there be some one whom the divinity within him may have inspired with a hatred of injustice, or who has attained knowledge of the truth--but no other man. he only blames injustice who, owing to cowardice or age or some weakness, has not the power of being unjust. and this is proved by the fact that when he obtains the power, he immediately becomes unjust as far as he can be. the cause of all this, socrates, was indicated by us at the beginning of the argument, when my brother and i told you how astonished we were to find that of all the professing panegyrists of justice--beginning with the ancient heroes of whom any memorial has been preserved to us, and ending with the men of our own time--no one has ever blamed injustice or praised justice except with a view to the glories, honours, and benefits which flow from them. no one has ever adequately described either in verse or prose the true essential nature of either of them abiding in the soul, and invisible to any human or divine eye; or shown that of all the things of a man's soul which he has within him, justice is the greatest good, and injustice the greatest evil. had this been the universal strain, had you sought to persuade us of this from our youth upwards, we should not have been on the watch to keep one another from doing wrong, but every one would have been his own watchman, because afraid, if he did wrong, of harbouring in himself the greatest of evils. i dare say that thrasymachus and others would seriously hold the language which i have been merely repeating, and words even stronger than these about justice and injustice, grossly, as i conceive, perverting their true nature. but i speak in this vehement manner, as i must frankly confess to you, because i want to hear from you the opposite side; and i would ask you to show not only the superiority which justice has over injustice, but what effect they have on the possessor of them which makes the one to be a good and the other an evil to him. and please, as glaucon requested of you, to exclude reputations; for unless you take away from each of them his true reputation and add on the false, we shall say that you do not praise justice, but the appearance of it; we shall think that you are only exhorting us to keep injustice dark, and that you really agree with thrasymachus in thinking that justice is another's good and the interest of the stronger, and that injustice is a man's own profit and interest, though injurious to the weaker. now as you have admitted that justice is one of that highest class of goods which are desired indeed for their results, but in a far greater degree for their own sakes--like sight or hearing or knowledge or health, or any other real and natural and not merely conventional good--i would ask you in your praise of justice to regard one point only: i mean the essential good and evil which justice and injustice work in the possessors of them. let others praise justice and censure injustice, magnifying the rewards and honours of the one and abusing the other; that is a manner of arguing which, coming from them, i am ready to tolerate, but from you who have spent your whole life in the consideration of this question, unless i hear the contrary from your own lips, i expect something better. and therefore, i say, not only prove to us that justice is better than injustice, but show what they either of them do to the possessor of them, which makes the one to be a good and the other an evil, whether seen or unseen by gods and men. i had always admired the genius of glaucon and adeimantus, but on hearing these words i was quite delighted, and said: sons of an illustrious father, that was not a bad beginning of the elegiac verses which the admirer of glaucon made in honour of you after you had distinguished yourselves at the battle of megara:-- 'sons of ariston,' he sang, 'divine offspring of an illustrious hero.' the epithet is very appropriate, for there is something truly divine in being able to argue as you have done for the superiority of injustice, and remaining unconvinced by your own arguments. and i do believe that you are not convinced--this i infer from your general character, for had i judged only from your speeches i should have mistrusted you. but now, the greater my confidence in you, the greater is my difficulty in knowing what to say. for i am in a strait between two; on the one hand i feel that i am unequal to the task; and my inability is brought home to me by the fact that you were not satisfied with the answer which i made to thrasymachus, proving, as i thought, the superiority which justice has over injustice. and yet i cannot refuse to help, while breath and speech remain to me; i am afraid that there would be an impiety in being present when justice is evil spoken of and not lifting up a hand in her defence. and therefore i had best give such help as i can. glaucon and the rest entreated me by all means not to let the question drop, but to proceed in the investigation. they wanted to arrive at the truth, first, about the nature of justice and injustice, and secondly, about their relative advantages. i told them, what i really thought, that the enquiry would be of a serious nature, and would require very good eyes. seeing then, i said, that we are no great wits, i think that we had better adopt a method which i may illustrate thus; suppose that a short-sighted person had been asked by some one to read small letters from a distance; and it occurred to some one else that they might be found in another place which was larger and in which the letters were larger--if they were the same and he could read the larger letters first, and then proceed to the lesser--this would have been thought a rare piece of good fortune. very true, said adeimantus; but how does the illustration apply to our enquiry? i will tell you, i replied; justice, which is the subject of our enquiry, is, as you know, sometimes spoken of as the virtue of an individual, and sometimes as the virtue of a state. true, he replied. and is not a state larger than an individual? it is. then in the larger the quantity of justice is likely to be larger and more easily discernible. i propose therefore that we enquire into the nature of justice and injustice, first as they appear in the state, and secondly in the individual, proceeding from the greater to the lesser and comparing them. that, he said, is an excellent proposal. and if we imagine the state in process of creation, we shall see the justice and injustice of the state in process of creation also. i dare say. when the state is completed there may be a hope that the object of our search will be more easily discovered. yes, far more easily. but ought we to attempt to construct one? i said; for to do so, as i am inclined to think, will be a very serious task. reflect therefore. i have reflected, said adeimantus, and am anxious that you should proceed. a state, i said, arises, as i conceive, out of the needs of mankind; no one is self-sufficing, but all of us have many wants. can any other origin of a state be imagined? there can be no other. then, as we have many wants, and many persons are needed to supply them, one takes a helper for one purpose and another for another; and when these partners and helpers are gathered together in one habitation the body of inhabitants is termed a state. true, he said. and they exchange with one another, and one gives, and another receives, under the idea that the exchange will be for their good. very true. then, i said, let us begin and create in idea a state; and yet the true creator is necessity, who is the mother of our invention. of course, he replied. now the first and greatest of necessities is food, which is the condition of life and existence. certainly. the second is a dwelling, and the third clothing and the like. true. and now let us see how our city will be able to supply this great demand: we may suppose that one man is a husbandman, another a builder, some one else a weaver--shall we add to them a shoemaker, or perhaps some other purveyor to our bodily wants? quite right. the barest notion of a state must include four or five men. clearly. and how will they proceed? will each bring the result of his labours into a common stock?--the individual husbandman, for example, producing for four, and labouring four times as long and as much as he need in the provision of food with which he supplies others as well as himself; or will he have nothing to do with others and not be at the trouble of producing for them, but provide for himself alone a fourth of the food in a fourth of the time, and in the remaining three fourths of his time be employed in making a house or a coat or a pair of shoes, having no partnership with others, but supplying himself all his own wants? adeimantus thought that he should aim at producing food only and not at producing everything. probably, i replied, that would be the better way; and when i hear you say this, i am myself reminded that we are not all alike; there are diversities of natures among us which are adapted to different occupations. very true. and will you have a work better done when the workman has many occupations, or when he has only one? when he has only one. further, there can be no doubt that a work is spoilt when not done at the right time? no doubt. for business is not disposed to wait until the doer of the business is at leisure; but the doer must follow up what he is doing, and make the business his first object. he must. and if so, we must infer that all things are produced more plentifully and easily and of a better quality when one man does one thing which is natural to him and does it at the right time, and leaves other things. undoubtedly. then more than four citizens will be required; for the husbandman will not make his own plough or mattock, or other implements of agriculture, if they are to be good for anything. neither will the builder make his tools--and he too needs many; and in like manner the weaver and shoemaker. true. then carpenters, and smiths, and many other artisans, will be sharers in our little state, which is already beginning to grow? true. yet even if we add neatherds, shepherds, and other herdsmen, in order that our husbandmen may have oxen to plough with, and builders as well as husbandmen may have draught cattle, and curriers and weavers fleeces and hides,--still our state will not be very large. that is true; yet neither will it be a very small state which contains all these. then, again, there is the situation of the city--to find a place where nothing need be imported is wellnigh impossible. impossible. then there must be another class of citizens who will bring the required supply from another city? there must. but if the trader goes empty-handed, having nothing which they require who would supply his need, he will come back empty-handed. that is certain. and therefore what they produce at home must be not only enough for themselves, but such both in quantity and quality as to accommodate those from whom their wants are supplied. very true. then more husbandmen and more artisans will be required? they will. not to mention the importers and exporters, who are called merchants? yes. then we shall want merchants? we shall. and if merchandise is to be carried over the sea, skilful sailors will also be needed, and in considerable numbers? yes, in considerable numbers. then, again, within the city, how will they exchange their productions? to secure such an exchange was, as you will remember, one of our principal objects when we formed them into a society and constituted a state. clearly they will buy and sell. then they will need a market-place, and a money-token for purposes of exchange. certainly. suppose now that a husbandman, or an artisan, brings some production to market, and he comes at a time when there is no one to exchange with him,--is he to leave his calling and sit idle in the market-place? not at all; he will find people there who, seeing the want, undertake the office of salesmen. in well-ordered states they are commonly those who are the weakest in bodily strength, and therefore of little use for any other purpose; their duty is to be in the market, and to give money in exchange for goods to those who desire to sell and to take money from those who desire to buy. this want, then, creates a class of retail-traders in our state. is not 'retailer' the term which is applied to those who sit in the market-place engaged in buying and selling, while those who wander from one city to another are called merchants? yes, he said. and there is another class of servants, who are intellectually hardly on the level of companionship; still they have plenty of bodily strength for labour, which accordingly they sell, and are called, if i do not mistake, hirelings, hire being the name which is given to the price of their labour. true. then hirelings will help to make up our population? yes. and now, adeimantus, is our state matured and perfected? i think so. where, then, is justice, and where is injustice, and in what part of the state did they spring up? probably in the dealings of these citizens with one another. i cannot imagine that they are more likely to be found any where else. i dare say that you are right in your suggestion, i said; we had better think the matter out, and not shrink from the enquiry. let us then consider, first of all, what will be their way of life, now that we have thus established them. will they not produce corn, and wine, and clothes, and shoes, and build houses for themselves? and when they are housed, they will work, in summer, commonly, stripped and barefoot, but in winter substantially clothed and shod. they will feed on barley-meal and flour of wheat, baking and kneading them, making noble cakes and loaves; these they will serve up on a mat of reeds or on clean leaves, themselves reclining the while upon beds strewn with yew or myrtle. and they and their children will feast, drinking of the wine which they have made, wearing garlands on their heads, and hymning the praises of the gods, in happy converse with one another. and they will take care that their families do not exceed their means; having an eye to poverty or war. but, said glaucon, interposing, you have not given them a relish to their meal. true, i replied, i had forgotten; of course they must have a relish--salt, and olives, and cheese, and they will boil roots and herbs such as country people prepare; for a dessert we shall give them figs, and peas, and beans; and they will roast myrtle-berries and acorns at the fire, drinking in moderation. and with such a diet they may be expected to live in peace and health to a good old age, and bequeath a similar life to their children after them. yes, socrates, he said, and if you were providing for a city of pigs, how else would you feed the beasts? but what would you have, glaucon? i replied. why, he said, you should give them the ordinary conveniences of life. people who are to be comfortable are accustomed to lie on sofas, and dine off tables, and they should have sauces and sweets in the modern style. yes, i said, now i understand: the question which you would have me consider is, not only how a state, but how a luxurious state is created; and possibly there is no harm in this, for in such a state we shall be more likely to see how justice and injustice originate. in my opinion the true and healthy constitution of the state is the one which i have described. but if you wish also to see a state at fever-heat, i have no objection. for i suspect that many will not be satisfied with the simpler way of life. they will be for adding sofas, and tables, and other furniture; also dainties, and perfumes, and incense, and courtesans, and cakes, all these not of one sort only, but in every variety; we must go beyond the necessaries of which i was at first speaking, such as houses, and clothes, and shoes: the arts of the painter and the embroiderer will have to be set in motion, and gold and ivory and all sorts of materials must be procured. true, he said. then we must enlarge our borders; for the original healthy state is no longer sufficient. now will the city have to fill and swell with a multitude of callings which are not required by any natural want; such as the whole tribe of hunters and actors, of whom one large class have to do with forms and colours; another will be the votaries of music--poets and their attendant train of rhapsodists, players, dancers, contractors; also makers of divers kinds of articles, including women's dresses. and we shall want more servants. will not tutors be also in request, and nurses wet and dry, tirewomen and barbers, as well as confectioners and cooks; and swineherds, too, who were not needed and therefore had no place in the former edition of our state, but are needed now? they must not be forgotten: and there will be animals of many other kinds, if people eat them. certainly. and living in this way we shall have much greater need of physicians than before? much greater. and the country which was enough to support the original inhabitants will be too small now, and not enough? quite true. then a slice of our neighbours' land will be wanted by us for pasture and tillage, and they will want a slice of ours, if, like ourselves, they exceed the limit of necessity, and give themselves up to the unlimited accumulation of wealth? that, socrates, will be inevitable. and so we shall go to war, glaucon. shall we not? most certainly, he replied. then without determining as yet whether war does good or harm, thus much we may affirm, that now we have discovered war to be derived from causes which are also the causes of almost all the evils in states, private as well as public. undoubtedly. and our state must once more enlarge; and this time the enlargement will be nothing short of a whole army, which will have to go out and fight with the invaders for all that we have, as well as for the things and persons whom we were describing above. why? he said; are they not capable of defending themselves? no, i said; not if we were right in the principle which was acknowledged by all of us when we were framing the state: the principle, as you will remember, was that one man cannot practise many arts with success. very true, he said. but is not war an art? certainly. and an art requiring as much attention as shoemaking? quite true. and the shoemaker was not allowed by us to be a husbandman, or a weaver, or a builder--in order that we might have our shoes well made; but to him and to every other worker was assigned one work for which he was by nature fitted, and at that he was to continue working all his life long and at no other; he was not to let opportunities slip, and then he would become a good workman. now nothing can be more important than that the work of a soldier should be well done. but is war an art so easily acquired that a man may be a warrior who is also a husbandman, or shoemaker, or other artisan; although no one in the world would be a good dice or draught player who merely took up the game as a recreation, and had not from his earliest years devoted himself to this and nothing else? no tools will make a man a skilled workman, or master of defence, nor be of any use to him who has not learned how to handle them, and has never bestowed any attention upon them. how then will he who takes up a shield or other implement of war become a good fighter all in a day, whether with heavy-armed or any other kind of troops? yes, he said, the tools which would teach men their own use would be beyond price. and the higher the duties of the guardian, i said, the more time, and skill, and art, and application will be needed by him? no doubt, he replied. will he not also require natural aptitude for his calling? certainly. then it will be our duty to select, if we can, natures which are fitted for the task of guarding the city? it will. and the selection will be no easy matter, i said; but we must be brave and do our best. we must. is not the noble youth very like a well-bred dog in respect of guarding and watching? what do you mean? i mean that both of them ought to be quick to see, and swift to overtake the enemy when they see him; and strong too if, when they have caught him, they have to fight with him. all these qualities, he replied, will certainly be required by them. well, and your guardian must be brave if he is to fight well? certainly. and is he likely to be brave who has no spirit, whether horse or dog or any other animal? have you never observed how invincible and unconquerable is spirit and how the presence of it makes the soul of any creature to be absolutely fearless and indomitable? i have. then now we have a clear notion of the bodily qualities which are required in the guardian. true. and also of the mental ones; his soul is to be full of spirit? yes. but are not these spirited natures apt to be savage with one another, and with everybody else? a difficulty by no means easy to overcome, he replied. whereas, i said, they ought to be dangerous to their enemies, and gentle to their friends; if not, they will destroy themselves without waiting for their enemies to destroy them. true, he said. what is to be done then? i said; how shall we find a gentle nature which has also a great spirit, for the one is the contradiction of the other? true. he will not be a good guardian who is wanting in either of these two qualities; and yet the combination of them appears to be impossible; and hence we must infer that to be a good guardian is impossible. i am afraid that what you say is true, he replied. here feeling perplexed i began to think over what had preceded.--my friend, i said, no wonder that we are in a perplexity; for we have lost sight of the image which we had before us. what do you mean? he said. i mean to say that there do exist natures gifted with those opposite qualities. and where do you find them? many animals, i replied, furnish examples of them; our friend the dog is a very good one: you know that well-bred dogs are perfectly gentle to their familiars and acquaintances, and the reverse to strangers. yes, i know. then there is nothing impossible or out of the order of nature in our finding a guardian who has a similar combination of qualities? certainly not. would not he who is fitted to be a guardian, besides the spirited nature, need to have the qualities of a philosopher? i do not apprehend your meaning. the trait of which i am speaking, i replied, may be also seen in the dog, and is remarkable in the animal. what trait? why, a dog, whenever he sees a stranger, is angry; when an acquaintance, he welcomes him, although the one has never done him any harm, nor the other any good. did this never strike you as curious? the matter never struck me before; but i quite recognise the truth of your remark. and surely this instinct of the dog is very charming;--your dog is a true philosopher. why? why, because he distinguishes the face of a friend and of an enemy only by the criterion of knowing and not knowing. and must not an animal be a lover of learning who determines what he likes and dislikes by the test of knowledge and ignorance? most assuredly. and is not the love of learning the love of wisdom, which is philosophy? they are the same, he replied. and may we not say confidently of man also, that he who is likely to be gentle to his friends and acquaintances, must by nature be a lover of wisdom and knowledge? that we may safely affirm. then he who is to be a really good and noble guardian of the state will require to unite in himself philosophy and spirit and swiftness and strength? undoubtedly. then we have found the desired natures; and now that we have found them, how are they to be reared and educated? is not this an enquiry which may be expected to throw light on the greater enquiry which is our final end--how do justice and injustice grow up in states? for we do not want either to omit what is to the point or to draw out the argument to an inconvenient length. adeimantus thought that the enquiry would be of great service to us. then, i said, my dear friend, the task must not be given up, even if somewhat long. certainly not. come then, and let us pass a leisure hour in story-telling, and our story shall be the education of our heroes. by all means. and what shall be their education? can we find a better than the traditional sort?--and this has two divisions, gymnastic for the body, and music for the soul. true. shall we begin education with music, and go on to gymnastic afterwards? by all means. and when you speak of music, do you include literature or not? i do. and literature may be either true or false? yes. and the young should be trained in both kinds, and we begin with the false? i do not understand your meaning, he said. you know, i said, that we begin by telling children stories which, though not wholly destitute of truth, are in the main fictitious; and these stories are told them when they are not of an age to learn gymnastics. very true. that was my meaning when i said that we must teach music before gymnastics. quite right, he said. you know also that the beginning is the most important part of any work, especially in the case of a young and tender thing; for that is the time at which the character is being formed and the desired impression is more readily taken. quite true. and shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales which may be devised by casual persons, and to receive into their minds ideas for the most part the very opposite of those which we should wish them to have when they are grown up? we cannot. then the first thing will be to establish a censorship of the writers of fiction, and let the censors receive any tale of fiction which is good, and reject the bad; and we will desire mothers and nurses to tell their children the authorised ones only. let them fashion the mind with such tales, even more fondly than they mould the body with their hands; but most of those which are now in use must be discarded. of what tales are you speaking? he said. you may find a model of the lesser in the greater, i said; for they are necessarily of the same type, and there is the same spirit in both of them. very likely, he replied; but i do not as yet know what you would term the greater. those, i said, which are narrated by homer and hesiod, and the rest of the poets, who have ever been the great story-tellers of mankind. but which stories do you mean, he said; and what fault do you find with them? a fault which is most serious, i said; the fault of telling a lie, and, what is more, a bad lie. but when is this fault committed? whenever an erroneous representation is made of the nature of gods and heroes,--as when a painter paints a portrait not having the shadow of a likeness to the original. yes, he said, that sort of thing is certainly very blameable; but what are the stories which you mean? first of all, i said, there was that greatest of all lies in high places, which the poet told about uranus, and which was a bad lie too,--i mean what hesiod says that uranus did, and how cronus retaliated on him. the doings of cronus, and the sufferings which in turn his son inflicted upon him, even if they were true, ought certainly not to be lightly told to young and thoughtless persons; if possible, they had better be buried in silence. but if there is an absolute necessity for their mention, a chosen few might hear them in a mystery, and they should sacrifice not a common (eleusinian) pig, but some huge and unprocurable victim; and then the number of the hearers will be very few indeed. why, yes, said he, those stories are extremely objectionable. yes, adeimantus, they are stories not to be repeated in our state; the young man should not be told that in committing the worst of crimes he is far from doing anything outrageous; and that even if he chastises his father when he does wrong, in whatever manner, he will only be following the example of the first and greatest among the gods. i entirely agree with you, he said; in my opinion those stories are quite unfit to be repeated. neither, if we mean our future guardians to regard the habit of quarrelling among themselves as of all things the basest, should any word be said to them of the wars in heaven, and of the plots and fightings of the gods against one another, for they are not true. no, we shall never mention the battles of the giants, or let them be embroidered on garments; and we shall be silent about the innumerable other quarrels of gods and heroes with their friends and relatives. if they would only believe us we would tell them that quarrelling is unholy, and that never up to this time has there been any quarrel between citizens; this is what old men and old women should begin by telling children; and when they grow up, the poets also should be told to compose for them in a similar spirit. but the narrative of hephaestus binding here his mother, or how on another occasion zeus sent him flying for taking her part when she was being beaten, and all the battles of the gods in homer--these tales must not be admitted into our state, whether they are supposed to have an allegorical meaning or not. for a young person cannot judge what is allegorical and what is literal; anything that he receives into his mind at that age is likely to become indelible and unalterable; and therefore it is most important that the tales which the young first hear should be models of virtuous thoughts. there you are right, he replied; but if any one asks where are such models to be found and of what tales are you speaking--how shall we answer him? i said to him, you and i, adeimantus, at this moment are not poets, but founders of a state: now the founders of a state ought to know the general forms in which poets should cast their tales, and the limits which must be observed by them, but to make the tales is not their business. very true, he said; but what are these forms of theology which you mean? something of this kind, i replied:--god is always to be represented as he truly is, whatever be the sort of poetry, epic, lyric or tragic, in which the representation is given. right. and is he not truly good? and must he not be represented as such? certainly. and no good thing is hurtful? no, indeed. and that which is not hurtful hurts not? certainly not. and that which hurts not does no evil? no. and can that which does no evil be a cause of evil? impossible. and the good is advantageous? yes. and therefore the cause of well-being? yes. it follows therefore that the good is not the cause of all things, but of the good only? assuredly. then god, if he be good, is not the author of all things, as the many assert, but he is the cause of a few things only, and not of most things that occur to men. for few are the goods of human life, and many are the evils, and the good is to be attributed to god alone; of the evils the causes are to be sought elsewhere, and not in him. that appears to me to be most true, he said. then we must not listen to homer or to any other poet who is guilty of the folly of saying that two casks 'lie at the threshold of zeus, full of lots, one of good, the other of evil lots,' and that he to whom zeus gives a mixture of the two 'sometimes meets with evil fortune, at other times with good;' but that he to whom is given the cup of unmingled ill, 'him wild hunger drives o'er the beauteous earth.' and again-- 'zeus, who is the dispenser of good and evil to us.' and if any one asserts that the violation of oaths and treaties, which was really the work of pandarus, was brought about by athene and zeus, or that the strife and contention of the gods was instigated by themis and zeus, he shall not have our approval; neither will we allow our young men to hear the words of aeschylus, that 'god plants guilt among men when he desires utterly to destroy a house.' and if a poet writes of the sufferings of niobe--the subject of the tragedy in which these iambic verses occur--or of the house of pelops, or of the trojan war or on any similar theme, either we must not permit him to say that these are the works of god, or if they are of god, he must devise some explanation of them such as we are seeking; he must say that god did what was just and right, and they were the better for being punished; but that those who are punished are miserable, and that god is the author of their misery--the poet is not to be permitted to say; though he may say that the wicked are miserable because they require to be punished, and are benefited by receiving punishment from god; but that god being good is the author of evil to any one is to be strenuously denied, and not to be said or sung or heard in verse or prose by any one whether old or young in any well-ordered commonwealth. such a fiction is suicidal, ruinous, impious. i agree with you, he replied, and am ready to give my assent to the law. let this then be one of our rules and principles concerning the gods, to which our poets and reciters will be expected to conform,--that god is not the author of all things, but of good only. that will do, he said. and what do you think of a second principle? shall i ask you whether god is a magician, and of a nature to appear insidiously now in one shape, and now in another--sometimes himself changing and passing into many forms, sometimes deceiving us with the semblance of such transformations; or is he one and the same immutably fixed in his own proper image? i cannot answer you, he said, without more thought. well, i said; but if we suppose a change in anything, that change must be effected either by the thing itself, or by some other thing? most certainly. and things which are at their best are also least liable to be altered or discomposed; for example, when healthiest and strongest, the human frame is least liable to be affected by meats and drinks, and the plant which is in the fullest vigour also suffers least from winds or the heat of the sun or any similar causes. of course. and will not the bravest and wisest soul be least confused or deranged by any external influence? true. and the same principle, as i should suppose, applies to all composite things--furniture, houses, garments: when good and well made, they are least altered by time and circumstances. very true. then everything which is good, whether made by art or nature, or both, is least liable to suffer change from without? true. but surely god and the things of god are in every way perfect? of course they are. then he can hardly be compelled by external influence to take many shapes? he cannot. but may he not change and transform himself? clearly, he said, that must be the case if he is changed at all. and will he then change himself for the better and fairer, or for the worse and more unsightly? if he change at all he can only change for the worse, for we cannot suppose him to be deficient either in virtue or beauty. very true, adeimantus; but then, would any one, whether god or man, desire to make himself worse? impossible. then it is impossible that god should ever be willing to change; being, as is supposed, the fairest and best that is conceivable, every god remains absolutely and for ever in his own form. that necessarily follows, he said, in my judgment. then, i said, my dear friend, let none of the poets tell us that 'the gods, taking the disguise of strangers from other lands, walk up and down cities in all sorts of forms;' and let no one slander proteus and thetis, neither let any one, either in tragedy or in any other kind of poetry, introduce here disguised in the likeness of a priestess asking an alms 'for the life-giving daughters of inachus the river of argos;' --let us have no more lies of that sort. neither must we have mothers under the influence of the poets scaring their children with a bad version of these myths--telling how certain gods, as they say, 'go about by night in the likeness of so many strangers and in divers forms;' but let them take heed lest they make cowards of their children, and at the same time speak blasphemy against the gods. heaven forbid, he said. but although the gods are themselves unchangeable, still by witchcraft and deception they may make us think that they appear in various forms? perhaps, he replied. well, but can you imagine that god will be willing to lie, whether in word or deed, or to put forth a phantom of himself? i cannot say, he replied. do you not know, i said, that the true lie, if such an expression may be allowed, is hated of gods and men? what do you mean? he said. i mean that no one is willingly deceived in that which is the truest and highest part of himself, or about the truest and highest matters; there, above all, he is most afraid of a lie having possession of him. still, he said, i do not comprehend you. the reason is, i replied, that you attribute some profound meaning to my words; but i am only saying that deception, or being deceived or uninformed about the highest realities in the highest part of themselves, which is the soul, and in that part of them to have and to hold the lie, is what mankind least like;--that, i say, is what they utterly detest. there is nothing more hateful to them. and, as i was just now remarking, this ignorance in the soul of him who is deceived may be called the true lie; for the lie in words is only a kind of imitation and shadowy image of a previous affection of the soul, not pure unadulterated falsehood. am i not right? perfectly right. the true lie is hated not only by the gods, but also by men? yes. whereas the lie in words is in certain cases useful and not hateful; in dealing with enemies--that would be an instance; or again, when those whom we call our friends in a fit of madness or illusion are going to do some harm, then it is useful and is a sort of medicine or preventive; also in the tales of mythology, of which we were just now speaking--because we do not know the truth about ancient times, we make falsehood as much like truth as we can, and so turn it to account. very true, he said. but can any of these reasons apply to god? can we suppose that he is ignorant of antiquity, and therefore has recourse to invention? that would be ridiculous, he said. then the lying poet has no place in our idea of god? i should say not. or perhaps he may tell a lie because he is afraid of enemies? that is inconceivable. but he may have friends who are senseless or mad? but no mad or senseless person can be a friend of god. then no motive can be imagined why god should lie? none whatever. then the superhuman and divine is absolutely incapable of falsehood? yes. then is god perfectly simple and true both in word and deed; he changes not; he deceives not, either by sign or word, by dream or waking vision. your thoughts, he said, are the reflection of my own. you agree with me then, i said, that this is the second type or form in which we should write and speak about divine things. the gods are not magicians who transform themselves, neither do they deceive mankind in any way. i grant that. then, although we are admirers of homer, we do not admire the lying dream which zeus sends to agamemnon; neither will we praise the verses of aeschylus in which thetis says that apollo at her nuptials 'was celebrating in song her fair progeny whose days were to be long, and to know no sickness. and when he had spoken of my lot as in all things blessed of heaven he raised a note of triumph and cheered my soul. and i thought that the word of phoebus, being divine and full of prophecy, would not fail. and now he himself who uttered the strain, he who was present at the banquet, and who said this--he it is who has slain my son.' these are the kind of sentiments about the gods which will arouse our anger; and he who utters them shall be refused a chorus; neither shall we allow teachers to make use of them in the instruction of the young, meaning, as we do, that our guardians, as far as men can be, should be true worshippers of the gods and like them. i entirely agree, he said, in these principles, and promise to make them my laws. book iii. such then, i said, are our principles of theology--some tales are to be told, and others are not to be told to our disciples from their youth upwards, if we mean them to honour the gods and their parents, and to value friendship with one another. yes; and i think that our principles are right, he said. but if they are to be courageous, must they not learn other lessons besides these, and lessons of such a kind as will take away the fear of death? can any man be courageous who has the fear of death in him? certainly not, he said. and can he be fearless of death, or will he choose death in battle rather than defeat and slavery, who believes the world below to be real and terrible? impossible. then we must assume a control over the narrators of this class of tales as well as over the others, and beg them not simply to revile but rather to commend the world below, intimating to them that their descriptions are untrue, and will do harm to our future warriors. that will be our duty, he said. then, i said, we shall have to obliterate many obnoxious passages, beginning with the verses, 'i would rather be a serf on the land of a poor and portionless man than rule over all the dead who have come to nought.' we must also expunge the verse, which tells us how pluto feared, 'lest the mansions grim and squalid which the gods abhor should be seen both of mortals and immortals.' and again:-- 'o heavens! verily in the house of hades there is soul and ghostly form but no mind at all!' again of tiresias:-- '(to him even after death did persephone grant mind,) that he alone should be wise; but the other souls are flitting shades.' again:-- 'the soul flying from the limbs had gone to hades, lamenting her fate, leaving manhood and youth.' again:-- 'and the soul, with shrilling cry, passed like smoke beneath the earth.' and,-- 'as bats in hollow of mystic cavern, whenever any of them has dropped out of the string and falls from the rock, fly shrilling and cling to one another, so did they with shrilling cry hold together as they moved.' and we must beg homer and the other poets not to be angry if we strike out these and similar passages, not because they are unpoetical, or unattractive to the popular ear, but because the greater the poetical charm of them, the less are they meet for the ears of boys and men who are meant to be free, and who should fear slavery more than death. undoubtedly. also we shall have to reject all the terrible and appalling names which describe the world below--cocytus and styx, ghosts under the earth, and sapless shades, and any similar words of which the very mention causes a shudder to pass through the inmost soul of him who hears them. i do not say that these horrible stories may not have a use of some kind; but there is a danger that the nerves of our guardians may be rendered too excitable and effeminate by them. there is a real danger, he said. then we must have no more of them. true. another and a nobler strain must be composed and sung by us. clearly. and shall we proceed to get rid of the weepings and wailings of famous men? they will go with the rest. but shall we be right in getting rid of them? reflect: our principle is that the good man will not consider death terrible to any other good man who is his comrade. yes; that is our principle. and therefore he will not sorrow for his departed friend as though he had suffered anything terrible? he will not. such an one, as we further maintain, is sufficient for himself and his own happiness, and therefore is least in need of other men. true, he said. and for this reason the loss of a son or brother, or the deprivation of fortune, is to him of all men least terrible. assuredly. and therefore he will be least likely to lament, and will bear with the greatest equanimity any misfortune of this sort which may befall him. yes, he will feel such a misfortune far less than another. then we shall be right in getting rid of the lamentations of famous men, and making them over to women (and not even to women who are good for anything), or to men of a baser sort, that those who are being educated by us to be the defenders of their country may scorn to do the like. that will be very right. then we will once more entreat homer and the other poets not to depict achilles, who is the son of a goddess, first lying on his side, then on his back, and then on his face; then starting up and sailing in a frenzy along the shores of the barren sea; now taking the sooty ashes in both his hands and pouring them over his head, or weeping and wailing in the various modes which homer has delineated. nor should he describe priam the kinsman of the gods as praying and beseeching, 'rolling in the dirt, calling each man loudly by his name.' still more earnestly will we beg of him at all events not to introduce the gods lamenting and saying, 'alas! my misery! alas! that i bore the bravest to my sorrow.' but if he must introduce the gods, at any rate let him not dare so completely to misrepresent the greatest of the gods, as to make him say-- 'o heavens! with my eyes verily i behold a dear friend of mine chased round and round the city, and my heart is sorrowful.' or again:-- woe is me that i am fated to have sarpedon, dearest of men to me, subdued at the hands of patroclus the son of menoetius.' for if, my sweet adeimantus, our youth seriously listen to such unworthy representations of the gods, instead of laughing at them as they ought, hardly will any of them deem that he himself, being but a man, can be dishonoured by similar actions; neither will he rebuke any inclination which may arise in his mind to say and do the like. and instead of having any shame or self-control, he will be always whining and lamenting on slight occasions. yes, he said, that is most true. yes, i replied; but that surely is what ought not to be, as the argument has just proved to us; and by that proof we must abide until it is disproved by a better. it ought not to be. neither ought our guardians to be given to laughter. for a fit of laughter which has been indulged to excess almost always produces a violent reaction. so i believe. then persons of worth, even if only mortal men, must not be represented as overcome by laughter, and still less must such a representation of the gods be allowed. still less of the gods, as you say, he replied. then we shall not suffer such an expression to be used about the gods as that of homer when he describes how 'inextinguishable laughter arose among the blessed gods, when they saw hephaestus bustling about the mansion.' on your views, we must not admit them. on my views, if you like to father them on me; that we must not admit them is certain. again, truth should be highly valued; if, as we were saying, a lie is useless to the gods, and useful only as a medicine to men, then the use of such medicines should be restricted to physicians; private individuals have no business with them. clearly not, he said. then if any one at all is to have the privilege of lying, the rulers of the state should be the persons; and they, in their dealings either with enemies or with their own citizens, may be allowed to lie for the public good. but nobody else should meddle with anything of the kind; and although the rulers have this privilege, for a private man to lie to them in return is to be deemed a more heinous fault than for the patient or the pupil of a gymnasium not to speak the truth about his own bodily illnesses to the physician or to the trainer, or for a sailor not to tell the captain what is happening about the ship and the rest of the crew, and how things are going with himself or his fellow sailors. most true, he said. if, then, the ruler catches anybody beside himself lying in the state, 'any of the craftsmen, whether he be priest or physician or carpenter,' he will punish him for introducing a practice which is equally subversive and destructive of ship or state. most certainly, he said, if our idea of the state is ever carried out. in the next place our youth must be temperate? certainly. are not the chief elements of temperance, speaking generally, obedience to commanders and self-control in sensual pleasures? true. then we shall approve such language as that of diomede in homer, 'friend, sit still and obey my word,' and the verses which follow, 'the greeks marched breathing prowess, ...in silent awe of their leaders,' and other sentiments of the same kind. we shall. what of this line, 'o heavy with wine, who hast the eyes of a dog and the heart of a stag,' and of the words which follow? would you say that these, or any similar impertinences which private individuals are supposed to address to their rulers, whether in verse or prose, are well or ill spoken? they are ill spoken. they may very possibly afford some amusement, but they do not conduce to temperance. and therefore they are likely to do harm to our young men--you would agree with me there? yes. and then, again, to make the wisest of men say that nothing in his opinion is more glorious than 'when the tables are full of bread and meat, and the cup-bearer carries round wine which he draws from the bowl and pours into the cups,' is it fit or conducive to temperance for a young man to hear such words? or the verse 'the saddest of fates is to die and meet destiny from hunger?' what would you say again to the tale of zeus, who, while other gods and men were asleep and he the only person awake, lay devising plans, but forgot them all in a moment through his lust, and was so completely overcome at the sight of here that he would not even go into the hut, but wanted to lie with her on the ground, declaring that he had never been in such a state of rapture before, even when they first met one another 'without the knowledge of their parents;' or that other tale of how hephaestus, because of similar goings on, cast a chain around ares and aphrodite? indeed, he said, i am strongly of opinion that they ought not to hear that sort of thing. but any deeds of endurance which are done or told by famous men, these they ought to see and hear; as, for example, what is said in the verses, 'he smote his breast, and thus reproached his heart, endure, my heart; far worse hast thou endured!' certainly, he said. in the next place, we must not let them be receivers of gifts or lovers of money. certainly not. neither must we sing to them of 'gifts persuading gods, and persuading reverend kings.' neither is phoenix, the tutor of achilles, to be approved or deemed to have given his pupil good counsel when he told him that he should take the gifts of the greeks and assist them; but that without a gift he should not lay aside his anger. neither will we believe or acknowledge achilles himself to have been such a lover of money that he took agamemnon's gifts, or that when he had received payment he restored the dead body of hector, but that without payment he was unwilling to do so. undoubtedly, he said, these are not sentiments which can be approved. loving homer as i do, i hardly like to say that in attributing these feelings to achilles, or in believing that they are truly attributed to him, he is guilty of downright impiety. as little can i believe the narrative of his insolence to apollo, where he says, 'thou hast wronged me, o far-darter, most abominable of deities. verily i would be even with thee, if i had only the power;' or his insubordination to the river-god, on whose divinity he is ready to lay hands; or his offering to the dead patroclus of his own hair, which had been previously dedicated to the other river-god spercheius, and that he actually performed this vow; or that he dragged hector round the tomb of patroclus, and slaughtered the captives at the pyre; of all this i cannot believe that he was guilty, any more than i can allow our citizens to believe that he, the wise cheiron's pupil, the son of a goddess and of peleus who was the gentlest of men and third in descent from zeus, was so disordered in his wits as to be at one time the slave of two seemingly inconsistent passions, meanness, not untainted by avarice, combined with overweening contempt of gods and men. you are quite right, he replied. and let us equally refuse to believe, or allow to be repeated, the tale of theseus son of poseidon, or of peirithous son of zeus, going forth as they did to perpetrate a horrid rape; or of any other hero or son of a god daring to do such impious and dreadful things as they falsely ascribe to them in our day: and let us further compel the poets to declare either that these acts were not done by them, or that they were not the sons of gods;--both in the same breath they shall not be permitted to affirm. we will not have them trying to persuade our youth that the gods are the authors of evil, and that heroes are no better than men--sentiments which, as we were saying, are neither pious nor true, for we have already proved that evil cannot come from the gods. assuredly not. and further they are likely to have a bad effect on those who hear them; for everybody will begin to excuse his own vices when he is convinced that similar wickednesses are always being perpetrated by-- 'the kindred of the gods, the relatives of zeus, whose ancestral altar, the altar of zeus, is aloft in air on the peak of ida,' and who have 'the blood of deities yet flowing in their veins.' and therefore let us put an end to such tales, lest they engender laxity of morals among the young. by all means, he replied. but now that we are determining what classes of subjects are or are not to be spoken of, let us see whether any have been omitted by us. the manner in which gods and demigods and heroes and the world below should be treated has been already laid down. very true. and what shall we say about men? that is clearly the remaining portion of our subject. clearly so. but we are not in a condition to answer this question at present, my friend. why not? because, if i am not mistaken, we shall have to say that about men poets and story-tellers are guilty of making the gravest misstatements when they tell us that wicked men are often happy, and the good miserable; and that injustice is profitable when undetected, but that justice is a man's own loss and another's gain--these things we shall forbid them to utter, and command them to sing and say the opposite. to be sure we shall, he replied. but if you admit that i am right in this, then i shall maintain that you have implied the principle for which we have been all along contending. i grant the truth of your inference. that such things are or are not to be said about men is a question which we cannot determine until we have discovered what justice is, and how naturally advantageous to the possessor, whether he seem to be just or not. most true, he said. enough of the subjects of poetry: let us now speak of the style; and when this has been considered, both matter and manner will have been completely treated. i do not understand what you mean, said adeimantus. then i must make you understand; and perhaps i may be more intelligible if i put the matter in this way. you are aware, i suppose, that all mythology and poetry is a narration of events, either past, present, or to come? certainly, he replied. and narration may be either simple narration, or imitation, or a union of the two? that again, he said, i do not quite understand. i fear that i must be a ridiculous teacher when i have so much difficulty in making myself apprehended. like a bad speaker, therefore, i will not take the whole of the subject, but will break a piece off in illustration of my meaning. you know the first lines of the iliad, in which the poet says that chryses prayed agamemnon to release his daughter, and that agamemnon flew into a passion with him; whereupon chryses, failing of his object, invoked the anger of the god against the achaeans. now as far as these lines, 'and he prayed all the greeks, but especially the two sons of atreus, the chiefs of the people,' the poet is speaking in his own person; he never leads us to suppose that he is any one else. but in what follows he takes the person of chryses, and then he does all that he can to make us believe that the speaker is not homer, but the aged priest himself. and in this double form he has cast the entire narrative of the events which occurred at troy and in ithaca and throughout the odyssey. yes. and a narrative it remains both in the speeches which the poet recites from time to time and in the intermediate passages? quite true. but when the poet speaks in the person of another, may we not say that he assimilates his style to that of the person who, as he informs you, is going to speak? certainly. and this assimilation of himself to another, either by the use of voice or gesture, is the imitation of the person whose character he assumes? of course. then in this case the narrative of the poet may be said to proceed by way of imitation? very true. or, if the poet everywhere appears and never conceals himself, then again the imitation is dropped, and his poetry becomes simple narration. however, in order that i may make my meaning quite clear, and that you may no more say, 'i don't understand,' i will show how the change might be effected. if homer had said, 'the priest came, having his daughter's ransom in his hands, supplicating the achaeans, and above all the kings;' and then if, instead of speaking in the person of chryses, he had continued in his own person, the words would have been, not imitation, but simple narration. the passage would have run as follows (i am no poet, and therefore i drop the metre), 'the priest came and prayed the gods on behalf of the greeks that they might capture troy and return safely home, but begged that they would give him back his daughter, and take the ransom which he brought, and respect the god. thus he spoke, and the other greeks revered the priest and assented. but agamemnon was wroth, and bade him depart and not come again, lest the staff and chaplets of the god should be of no avail to him--the daughter of chryses should not be released, he said--she should grow old with him in argos. and then he told him to go away and not to provoke him, if he intended to get home unscathed. and the old man went away in fear and silence, and, when he had left the camp, he called upon apollo by his many names, reminding him of everything which he had done pleasing to him, whether in building his temples, or in offering sacrifice, and praying that his good deeds might be returned to him, and that the achaeans might expiate his tears by the arrows of the god,'--and so on. in this way the whole becomes simple narrative. i understand, he said. or you may suppose the opposite case--that the intermediate passages are omitted, and the dialogue only left. that also, he said, i understand; you mean, for example, as in tragedy. you have conceived my meaning perfectly; and if i mistake not, what you failed to apprehend before is now made clear to you, that poetry and mythology are, in some cases, wholly imitative--instances of this are supplied by tragedy and comedy; there is likewise the opposite style, in which the poet is the only speaker--of this the dithyramb affords the best example; and the combination of both is found in epic, and in several other styles of poetry. do i take you with me? yes, he said; i see now what you meant. i will ask you to remember also what i began by saying, that we had done with the subject and might proceed to the style. yes, i remember. in saying this, i intended to imply that we must come to an understanding about the mimetic art,--whether the poets, in narrating their stories, are to be allowed by us to imitate, and if so, whether in whole or in part, and if the latter, in what parts; or should all imitation be prohibited? you mean, i suspect, to ask whether tragedy and comedy shall be admitted into our state? yes, i said; but there may be more than this in question: i really do not know as yet, but whither the argument may blow, thither we go. and go we will, he said. then, adeimantus, let me ask you whether our guardians ought to be imitators; or rather, has not this question been decided by the rule already laid down that one man can only do one thing well, and not many; and that if he attempt many, he will altogether fail of gaining much reputation in any? certainly. and this is equally true of imitation; no one man can imitate many things as well as he would imitate a single one? he cannot. then the same person will hardly be able to play a serious part in life, and at the same time to be an imitator and imitate many other parts as well; for even when two species of imitation are nearly allied, the same persons cannot succeed in both, as, for example, the writers of tragedy and comedy--did you not just now call them imitations? yes, i did; and you are right in thinking that the same persons cannot succeed in both. any more than they can be rhapsodists and actors at once? true. neither are comic and tragic actors the same; yet all these things are but imitations. they are so. and human nature, adeimantus, appears to have been coined into yet smaller pieces, and to be as incapable of imitating many things well, as of performing well the actions of which the imitations are copies. quite true, he replied. if then we adhere to our original notion and bear in mind that our guardians, setting aside every other business, are to dedicate themselves wholly to the maintenance of freedom in the state, making this their craft, and engaging in no work which does not bear on this end, they ought not to practise or imitate anything else; if they imitate at all, they should imitate from youth upward only those characters which are suitable to their profession--the courageous, temperate, holy, free, and the like; but they should not depict or be skilful at imitating any kind of illiberality or baseness, lest from imitation they should come to be what they imitate. did you never observe how imitations, beginning in early youth and continuing far into life, at length grow into habits and become a second nature, affecting body, voice, and mind? yes, certainly, he said. then, i said, we will not allow those for whom we profess a care and of whom we say that they ought to be good men, to imitate a woman, whether young or old, quarrelling with her husband, or striving and vaunting against the gods in conceit of her happiness, or when she is in affliction, or sorrow, or weeping; and certainly not one who is in sickness, love, or labour. very right, he said. neither must they represent slaves, male or female, performing the offices of slaves? they must not. and surely not bad men, whether cowards or any others, who do the reverse of what we have just been prescribing, who scold or mock or revile one another in drink or out of drink, or who in any other manner sin against themselves and their neighbours in word or deed, as the manner of such is. neither should they be trained to imitate the action or speech of men or women who are mad or bad; for madness, like vice, is to be known but not to be practised or imitated. very true, he replied. neither may they imitate smiths or other artificers, or oarsmen, or boatswains, or the like? how can they, he said, when they are not allowed to apply their minds to the callings of any of these? nor may they imitate the neighing of horses, the bellowing of bulls, the murmur of rivers and roll of the ocean, thunder, and all that sort of thing? nay, he said, if madness be forbidden, neither may they copy the behaviour of madmen. you mean, i said, if i understand you aright, that there is one sort of narrative style which may be employed by a truly good man when he has anything to say, and that another sort will be used by a man of an opposite character and education. and which are these two sorts? he asked. suppose, i answered, that a just and good man in the course of a narration comes on some saying or action of another good man,--i should imagine that he will like to personate him, and will not be ashamed of this sort of imitation: he will be most ready to play the part of the good man when he is acting firmly and wisely; in a less degree when he is overtaken by illness or love or drink, or has met with any other disaster. but when he comes to a character which is unworthy of him, he will not make a study of that; he will disdain such a person, and will assume his likeness, if at all, for a moment only when he is performing some good action; at other times he will be ashamed to play a part which he has never practised, nor will he like to fashion and frame himself after the baser models; he feels the employment of such an art, unless in jest, to be beneath him, and his mind revolts at it. so i should expect, he replied. then he will adopt a mode of narration such as we have illustrated out of homer, that is to say, his style will be both imitative and narrative; but there will be very little of the former, and a great deal of the latter. do you agree? certainly, he said; that is the model which such a speaker must necessarily take. but there is another sort of character who will narrate anything, and, the worse he is, the more unscrupulous he will be; nothing will be too bad for him: and he will be ready to imitate anything, not as a joke, but in right good earnest, and before a large company. as i was just now saying, he will attempt to represent the roll of thunder, the noise of wind and hail, or the creaking of wheels, and pulleys, and the various sounds of flutes, pipes, trumpets, and all sorts of instruments: he will bark like a dog, bleat like a sheep, or crow like a cock; his entire art will consist in imitation of voice and gesture, and there will be very little narration. that, he said, will be his mode of speaking. these, then, are the two kinds of style? yes. and you would agree with me in saying that one of them is simple and has but slight changes; and if the harmony and rhythm are also chosen for their simplicity, the result is that the speaker, if he speaks correctly, is always pretty much the same in style, and he will keep within the limits of a single harmony (for the changes are not great), and in like manner he will make use of nearly the same rhythm? that is quite true, he said. whereas the other requires all sorts of harmonies and all sorts of rhythms, if the music and the style are to correspond, because the style has all sorts of changes. that is also perfectly true, he replied. and do not the two styles, or the mixture of the two, comprehend all poetry, and every form of expression in words? no one can say anything except in one or other of them or in both together. they include all, he said. and shall we receive into our state all the three styles, or one only of the two unmixed styles? or would you include the mixed? i should prefer only to admit the pure imitator of virtue. yes, i said, adeimantus, but the mixed style is also very charming: and indeed the pantomimic, which is the opposite of the one chosen by you, is the most popular style with children and their attendants, and with the world in general. i do not deny it. but i suppose you would argue that such a style is unsuitable to our state, in which human nature is not twofold or manifold, for one man plays one part only? yes; quite unsuitable. and this is the reason why in our state, and in our state only, we shall find a shoemaker to be a shoemaker and not a pilot also, and a husbandman to be a husbandman and not a dicast also, and a soldier a soldier and not a trader also, and the same throughout? true, he said. and therefore when any one of these pantomimic gentlemen, who are so clever that they can imitate anything, comes to us, and makes a proposal to exhibit himself and his poetry, we will fall down and worship him as a sweet and holy and wonderful being; but we must also inform him that in our state such as he are not permitted to exist; the law will not allow them. and so when we have anointed him with myrrh, and set a garland of wool upon his head, we shall send him away to another city. for we mean to employ for our souls' health the rougher and severer poet or story-teller, who will imitate the style of the virtuous only, and will follow those models which we prescribed at first when we began the education of our soldiers. we certainly will, he said, if we have the power. then now, my friend, i said, that part of music or literary education which relates to the story or myth may be considered to be finished; for the matter and manner have both been discussed. i think so too, he said. next in order will follow melody and song. that is obvious. every one can see already what we ought to say about them, if we are to be consistent with ourselves. i fear, said glaucon, laughing, that the word 'every one' hardly includes me, for i cannot at the moment say what they should be; though i may guess. at any rate you can tell that a song or ode has three parts--the words, the melody, and the rhythm; that degree of knowledge i may presuppose? yes, he said; so much as that you may. and as for the words, there will surely be no difference between words which are and which are not set to music; both will conform to the same laws, and these have been already determined by us? yes. and the melody and rhythm will depend upon the words? certainly. we were saying, when we spoke of the subject-matter, that we had no need of lamentation and strains of sorrow? true. and which are the harmonies expressive of sorrow? you are musical, and can tell me. the harmonies which you mean are the mixed or tenor lydian, and the full-toned or bass lydian, and such like. these then, i said, must be banished; even to women who have a character to maintain they are of no use, and much less to men. certainly. in the next place, drunkenness and softness and indolence are utterly unbecoming the character of our guardians. utterly unbecoming. and which are the soft or drinking harmonies? the ionian, he replied, and the lydian; they are termed 'relaxed.' well, and are these of any military use? quite the reverse, he replied; and if so the dorian and the phrygian are the only ones which you have left. i answered: of the harmonies i know nothing, but i want to have one warlike, to sound the note or accent which a brave man utters in the hour of danger and stern resolve, or when his cause is failing, and he is going to wounds or death or is overtaken by some other evil, and at every such crisis meets the blows of fortune with firm step and a determination to endure; and another to be used by him in times of peace and freedom of action, when there is no pressure of necessity, and he is seeking to persuade god by prayer, or man by instruction and admonition, or on the other hand, when he is expressing his willingness to yield to persuasion or entreaty or admonition, and which represents him when by prudent conduct he has attained his end, not carried away by his success, but acting moderately and wisely under the circumstances, and acquiescing in the event. these two harmonies i ask you to leave; the strain of necessity and the strain of freedom, the strain of the unfortunate and the strain of the fortunate, the strain of courage, and the strain of temperance; these, i say, leave. and these, he replied, are the dorian and phrygian harmonies of which i was just now speaking. then, i said, if these and these only are to be used in our songs and melodies, we shall not want multiplicity of notes or a panharmonic scale? i suppose not. then we shall not maintain the artificers of lyres with three corners and complex scales, or the makers of any other many-stringed curiously-harmonised instruments? certainly not. but what do you say to flute-makers and flute-players? would you admit them into our state when you reflect that in this composite use of harmony the flute is worse than all the stringed instruments put together; even the panharmonic music is only an imitation of the flute? clearly not. there remain then only the lyre and the harp for use in the city, and the shepherds may have a pipe in the country. that is surely the conclusion to be drawn from the argument. the preferring of apollo and his instruments to marsyas and his instruments is not at all strange, i said. not at all, he replied. and so, by the dog of egypt, we have been unconsciously purging the state, which not long ago we termed luxurious. and we have done wisely, he replied. then let us now finish the purgation, i said. next in order to harmonies, rhythms will naturally follow, and they should be subject to the same rules, for we ought not to seek out complex systems of metre, or metres of every kind, but rather to discover what rhythms are the expressions of a courageous and harmonious life; and when we have found them, we shall adapt the foot and the melody to words having a like spirit, not the words to the foot and melody. to say what these rhythms are will be your duty--you must teach me them, as you have already taught me the harmonies. but, indeed, he replied, i cannot tell you. i only know that there are some three principles of rhythm out of which metrical systems are framed, just as in sounds there are four notes (i.e. the four notes of the tetrachord.) out of which all the harmonies are composed; that is an observation which i have made. but of what sort of lives they are severally the imitations i am unable to say. then, i said, we must take damon into our counsels; and he will tell us what rhythms are expressive of meanness, or insolence, or fury, or other unworthiness, and what are to be reserved for the expression of opposite feelings. and i think that i have an indistinct recollection of his mentioning a complex cretic rhythm; also a dactylic or heroic, and he arranged them in some manner which i do not quite understand, making the rhythms equal in the rise and fall of the foot, long and short alternating; and, unless i am mistaken, he spoke of an iambic as well as of a trochaic rhythm, and assigned to them short and long quantities. also in some cases he appeared to praise or censure the movement of the foot quite as much as the rhythm; or perhaps a combination of the two; for i am not certain what he meant. these matters, however, as i was saying, had better be referred to damon himself, for the analysis of the subject would be difficult, you know? (socrates expresses himself carelessly in accordance with his assumed ignorance of the details of the subject. in the first part of the sentence he appears to be speaking of paeonic rhythms which are in the ratio of / ; in the second part, of dactylic and anapaestic rhythms, which are in the ratio of / ; in the last clause, of iambic and trochaic rhythms, which are in the ratio of / or / .) rather so, i should say. but there is no difficulty in seeing that grace or the absence of grace is an effect of good or bad rhythm. none at all. and also that good and bad rhythm naturally assimilate to a good and bad style; and that harmony and discord in like manner follow style; for our principle is that rhythm and harmony are regulated by the words, and not the words by them. just so, he said, they should follow the words. and will not the words and the character of the style depend on the temper of the soul? yes. and everything else on the style? yes. then beauty of style and harmony and grace and good rhythm depend on simplicity,--i mean the true simplicity of a rightly and nobly ordered mind and character, not that other simplicity which is only an euphemism for folly? very true, he replied. and if our youth are to do their work in life, must they not make these graces and harmonies their perpetual aim? they must. and surely the art of the painter and every other creative and constructive art are full of them,--weaving, embroidery, architecture, and every kind of manufacture; also nature, animal and vegetable,--in all of them there is grace or the absence of grace. and ugliness and discord and inharmonious motion are nearly allied to ill words and ill nature, as grace and harmony are the twin sisters of goodness and virtue and bear their likeness. that is quite true, he said. but shall our superintendence go no further, and are the poets only to be required by us to express the image of the good in their works, on pain, if they do anything else, of expulsion from our state? or is the same control to be extended to other artists, and are they also to be prohibited from exhibiting the opposite forms of vice and intemperance and meanness and indecency in sculpture and building and the other creative arts; and is he who cannot conform to this rule of ours to be prevented from practising his art in our state, lest the taste of our citizens be corrupted by him? we would not have our guardians grow up amid images of moral deformity, as in some noxious pasture, and there browse and feed upon many a baneful herb and flower day by day, little by little, until they silently gather a festering mass of corruption in their own soul. let our artists rather be those who are gifted to discern the true nature of the beautiful and graceful; then will our youth dwell in a land of health, amid fair sights and sounds, and receive the good in everything; and beauty, the effluence of fair works, shall flow into the eye and ear, like a health-giving breeze from a purer region, and insensibly draw the soul from earliest years into likeness and sympathy with the beauty of reason. there can be no nobler training than that, he replied. and therefore, i said, glaucon, musical training is a more potent instrument than any other, because rhythm and harmony find their way into the inward places of the soul, on which they mightily fasten, imparting grace, and making the soul of him who is rightly educated graceful, or of him who is ill-educated ungraceful; and also because he who has received this true education of the inner being will most shrewdly perceive omissions or faults in art and nature, and with a true taste, while he praises and rejoices over and receives into his soul the good, and becomes noble and good, he will justly blame and hate the bad, now in the days of his youth, even before he is able to know the reason why; and when reason comes he will recognise and salute the friend with whom his education has made him long familiar. yes, he said, i quite agree with you in thinking that our youth should be trained in music and on the grounds which you mention. just as in learning to read, i said, we were satisfied when we knew the letters of the alphabet, which are very few, in all their recurring sizes and combinations; not slighting them as unimportant whether they occupy a space large or small, but everywhere eager to make them out; and not thinking ourselves perfect in the art of reading until we recognise them wherever they are found: true-- or, as we recognise the reflection of letters in the water, or in a mirror, only when we know the letters themselves; the same art and study giving us the knowledge of both: exactly-- even so, as i maintain, neither we nor our guardians, whom we have to educate, can ever become musical until we and they know the essential forms of temperance, courage, liberality, magnificence, and their kindred, as well as the contrary forms, in all their combinations, and can recognise them and their images wherever they are found, not slighting them either in small things or great, but believing them all to be within the sphere of one art and study. most assuredly. and when a beautiful soul harmonizes with a beautiful form, and the two are cast in one mould, that will be the fairest of sights to him who has an eye to see it? the fairest indeed. and the fairest is also the loveliest? that may be assumed. and the man who has the spirit of harmony will be most in love with the loveliest; but he will not love him who is of an inharmonious soul? that is true, he replied, if the deficiency be in his soul; but if there be any merely bodily defect in another he will be patient of it, and will love all the same. i perceive, i said, that you have or have had experiences of this sort, and i agree. but let me ask you another question: has excess of pleasure any affinity to temperance? how can that be? he replied; pleasure deprives a man of the use of his faculties quite as much as pain. or any affinity to virtue in general? none whatever. any affinity to wantonness and intemperance? yes, the greatest. and is there any greater or keener pleasure than that of sensual love? no, nor a madder. whereas true love is a love of beauty and order--temperate and harmonious? quite true, he said. then no intemperance or madness should be allowed to approach true love? certainly not. then mad or intemperate pleasure must never be allowed to come near the lover and his beloved; neither of them can have any part in it if their love is of the right sort? no, indeed, socrates, it must never come near them. then i suppose that in the city which we are founding you would make a law to the effect that a friend should use no other familiarity to his love than a father would use to his son, and then only for a noble purpose, and he must first have the other's consent; and this rule is to limit him in all his intercourse, and he is never to be seen going further, or, if he exceeds, he is to be deemed guilty of coarseness and bad taste. i quite agree, he said. thus much of music, which makes a fair ending; for what should be the end of music if not the love of beauty? i agree, he said. after music comes gymnastic, in which our youth are next to be trained. certainly. gymnastic as well as music should begin in early years; the training in it should be careful and should continue through life. now my belief is,--and this is a matter upon which i should like to have your opinion in confirmation of my own, but my own belief is,--not that the good body by any bodily excellence improves the soul, but, on the contrary, that the good soul, by her own excellence, improves the body as far as this may be possible. what do you say? yes, i agree. then, to the mind when adequately trained, we shall be right in handing over the more particular care of the body; and in order to avoid prolixity we will now only give the general outlines of the subject. very good. that they must abstain from intoxication has been already remarked by us; for of all persons a guardian should be the last to get drunk and not know where in the world he is. yes, he said; that a guardian should require another guardian to take care of him is ridiculous indeed. but next, what shall we say of their food; for the men are in training for the great contest of all--are they not? yes, he said. and will the habit of body of our ordinary athletes be suited to them? why not? i am afraid, i said, that a habit of body such as they have is but a sleepy sort of thing, and rather perilous to health. do you not observe that these athletes sleep away their lives, and are liable to most dangerous illnesses if they depart, in ever so slight a degree, from their customary regimen? yes, i do. then, i said, a finer sort of training will be required for our warrior athletes, who are to be like wakeful dogs, and to see and hear with the utmost keenness; amid the many changes of water and also of food, of summer heat and winter cold, which they will have to endure when on a campaign, they must not be liable to break down in health. that is my view. the really excellent gymnastic is twin sister of that simple music which we were just now describing. how so? why, i conceive that there is a gymnastic which, like our music, is simple and good; and especially the military gymnastic. what do you mean? my meaning may be learned from homer; he, you know, feeds his heroes at their feasts, when they are campaigning, on soldiers' fare; they have no fish, although they are on the shores of the hellespont, and they are not allowed boiled meats but only roast, which is the food most convenient for soldiers, requiring only that they should light a fire, and not involving the trouble of carrying about pots and pans. true. and i can hardly be mistaken in saying that sweet sauces are nowhere mentioned in homer. in proscribing them, however, he is not singular; all professional athletes are well aware that a man who is to be in good condition should take nothing of the kind. yes, he said; and knowing this, they are quite right in not taking them. then you would not approve of syracusan dinners, and the refinements of sicilian cookery? i think not. nor, if a man is to be in condition, would you allow him to have a corinthian girl as his fair friend? certainly not. neither would you approve of the delicacies, as they are thought, of athenian confectionary? certainly not. all such feeding and living may be rightly compared by us to melody and song composed in the panharmonic style, and in all the rhythms. exactly. there complexity engendered licence, and here disease; whereas simplicity in music was the parent of temperance in the soul; and simplicity in gymnastic of health in the body. most true, he said. but when intemperance and diseases multiply in a state, halls of justice and medicine are always being opened; and the arts of the doctor and the lawyer give themselves airs, finding how keen is the interest which not only the slaves but the freemen of a city take about them. of course. and yet what greater proof can there be of a bad and disgraceful state of education than this, that not only artisans and the meaner sort of people need the skill of first-rate physicians and judges, but also those who would profess to have had a liberal education? is it not disgraceful, and a great sign of want of good-breeding, that a man should have to go abroad for his law and physic because he has none of his own at home, and must therefore surrender himself into the hands of other men whom he makes lords and judges over him? of all things, he said, the most disgraceful. would you say 'most,' i replied, when you consider that there is a further stage of the evil in which a man is not only a life-long litigant, passing all his days in the courts, either as plaintiff or defendant, but is actually led by his bad taste to pride himself on his litigiousness; he imagines that he is a master in dishonesty; able to take every crooked turn, and wriggle into and out of every hole, bending like a withy and getting out of the way of justice: and all for what?--in order to gain small points not worth mentioning, he not knowing that so to order his life as to be able to do without a napping judge is a far higher and nobler sort of thing. is not that still more disgraceful? yes, he said, that is still more disgraceful. well, i said, and to require the help of medicine, not when a wound has to be cured, or on occasion of an epidemic, but just because, by indolence and a habit of life such as we have been describing, men fill themselves with waters and winds, as if their bodies were a marsh, compelling the ingenious sons of asclepius to find more names for diseases, such as flatulence and catarrh; is not this, too, a disgrace? yes, he said, they do certainly give very strange and newfangled names to diseases. yes, i said, and i do not believe that there were any such diseases in the days of asclepius; and this i infer from the circumstance that the hero eurypylus, after he has been wounded in homer, drinks a posset of pramnian wine well besprinkled with barley-meal and grated cheese, which are certainly inflammatory, and yet the sons of asclepius who were at the trojan war do not blame the damsel who gives him the drink, or rebuke patroclus, who is treating his case. well, he said, that was surely an extraordinary drink to be given to a person in his condition. not so extraordinary, i replied, if you bear in mind that in former days, as is commonly said, before the time of herodicus, the guild of asclepius did not practise our present system of medicine, which may be said to educate diseases. but herodicus, being a trainer, and himself of a sickly constitution, by a combination of training and doctoring found out a way of torturing first and chiefly himself, and secondly the rest of the world. how was that? he said. by the invention of lingering death; for he had a mortal disease which he perpetually tended, and as recovery was out of the question, he passed his entire life as a valetudinarian; he could do nothing but attend upon himself, and he was in constant torment whenever he departed in anything from his usual regimen, and so dying hard, by the help of science he struggled on to old age. a rare reward of his skill! yes, i said; a reward which a man might fairly expect who never understood that, if asclepius did not instruct his descendants in valetudinarian arts, the omission arose, not from ignorance or inexperience of such a branch of medicine, but because he knew that in all well-ordered states every individual has an occupation to which he must attend, and has therefore no leisure to spend in continually being ill. this we remark in the case of the artisan, but, ludicrously enough, do not apply the same rule to people of the richer sort. how do you mean? he said. i mean this: when a carpenter is ill he asks the physician for a rough and ready cure; an emetic or a purge or a cautery or the knife,--these are his remedies. and if some one prescribes for him a course of dietetics, and tells him that he must swathe and swaddle his head, and all that sort of thing, he replies at once that he has no time to be ill, and that he sees no good in a life which is spent in nursing his disease to the neglect of his customary employment; and therefore bidding good-bye to this sort of physician, he resumes his ordinary habits, and either gets well and lives and does his business, or, if his constitution fails, he dies and has no more trouble. yes, he said, and a man in his condition of life ought to use the art of medicine thus far only. has he not, i said, an occupation; and what profit would there be in his life if he were deprived of his occupation? quite true, he said. but with the rich man this is otherwise; of him we do not say that he has any specially appointed work which he must perform, if he would live. he is generally supposed to have nothing to do. then you never heard of the saying of phocylides, that as soon as a man has a livelihood he should practise virtue? nay, he said, i think that he had better begin somewhat sooner. let us not have a dispute with him about this, i said; but rather ask ourselves: is the practice of virtue obligatory on the rich man, or can he live without it? and if obligatory on him, then let us raise a further question, whether this dieting of disorders, which is an impediment to the application of the mind in carpentering and the mechanical arts, does not equally stand in the way of the sentiment of phocylides? of that, he replied, there can be no doubt; such excessive care of the body, when carried beyond the rules of gymnastic, is most inimical to the practice of virtue. yes, indeed, i replied, and equally incompatible with the management of a house, an army, or an office of state; and, what is most important of all, irreconcileable with any kind of study or thought or self-reflection--there is a constant suspicion that headache and giddiness are to be ascribed to philosophy, and hence all practising or making trial of virtue in the higher sense is absolutely stopped; for a man is always fancying that he is being made ill, and is in constant anxiety about the state of his body. yes, likely enough. and therefore our politic asclepius may be supposed to have exhibited the power of his art only to persons who, being generally of healthy constitution and habits of life, had a definite ailment; such as these he cured by purges and operations, and bade them live as usual, herein consulting the interests of the state; but bodies which disease had penetrated through and through he would not have attempted to cure by gradual processes of evacuation and infusion: he did not want to lengthen out good-for-nothing lives, or to have weak fathers begetting weaker sons;--if a man was not able to live in the ordinary way he had no business to cure him; for such a cure would have been of no use either to himself, or to the state. then, he said, you regard asclepius as a statesman. clearly; and his character is further illustrated by his sons. note that they were heroes in the days of old and practised the medicines of which i am speaking at the siege of troy: you will remember how, when pandarus wounded menelaus, they 'sucked the blood out of the wound, and sprinkled soothing remedies,' but they never prescribed what the patient was afterwards to eat or drink in the case of menelaus, any more than in the case of eurypylus; the remedies, as they conceived, were enough to heal any man who before he was wounded was healthy and regular in his habits; and even though he did happen to drink a posset of pramnian wine, he might get well all the same. but they would have nothing to do with unhealthy and intemperate subjects, whose lives were of no use either to themselves or others; the art of medicine was not designed for their good, and though they were as rich as midas, the sons of asclepius would have declined to attend them. they were very acute persons, those sons of asclepius. naturally so, i replied. nevertheless, the tragedians and pindar disobeying our behests, although they acknowledge that asclepius was the son of apollo, say also that he was bribed into healing a rich man who was at the point of death, and for this reason he was struck by lightning. but we, in accordance with the principle already affirmed by us, will not believe them when they tell us both;--if he was the son of a god, we maintain that he was not avaricious; or, if he was avaricious, he was not the son of a god. all that, socrates, is excellent; but i should like to put a question to you: ought there not to be good physicians in a state, and are not the best those who have treated the greatest number of constitutions good and bad? and are not the best judges in like manner those who are acquainted with all sorts of moral natures? yes, i said, i too would have good judges and good physicians. but do you know whom i think good? will you tell me? i will, if i can. let me however note that in the same question you join two things which are not the same. how so? he asked. why, i said, you join physicians and judges. now the most skilful physicians are those who, from their youth upwards, have combined with the knowledge of their art the greatest experience of disease; they had better not be robust in health, and should have had all manner of diseases in their own persons. for the body, as i conceive, is not the instrument with which they cure the body; in that case we could not allow them ever to be or to have been sickly; but they cure the body with the mind, and the mind which has become and is sick can cure nothing. that is very true, he said. but with the judge it is otherwise; since he governs mind by mind; he ought not therefore to have been trained among vicious minds, and to have associated with them from youth upwards, and to have gone through the whole calendar of crime, only in order that he may quickly infer the crimes of others as he might their bodily diseases from his own self-consciousness; the honourable mind which is to form a healthy judgment should have had no experience or contamination of evil habits when young. and this is the reason why in youth good men often appear to be simple, and are easily practised upon by the dishonest, because they have no examples of what evil is in their own souls. yes, he said, they are far too apt to be deceived. therefore, i said, the judge should not be young; he should have learned to know evil, not from his own soul, but from late and long observation of the nature of evil in others: knowledge should be his guide, not personal experience. yes, he said, that is the ideal of a judge. yes, i replied, and he will be a good man (which is my answer to your question); for he is good who has a good soul. but the cunning and suspicious nature of which we spoke,--he who has committed many crimes, and fancies himself to be a master in wickedness, when he is amongst his fellows, is wonderful in the precautions which he takes, because he judges of them by himself: but when he gets into the company of men of virtue, who have the experience of age, he appears to be a fool again, owing to his unseasonable suspicions; he cannot recognise an honest man, because he has no pattern of honesty in himself; at the same time, as the bad are more numerous than the good, and he meets with them oftener, he thinks himself, and is by others thought to be, rather wise than foolish. most true, he said. then the good and wise judge whom we are seeking is not this man, but the other; for vice cannot know virtue too, but a virtuous nature, educated by time, will acquire a knowledge both of virtue and vice: the virtuous, and not the vicious, man has wisdom--in my opinion. and in mine also. this is the sort of medicine, and this is the sort of law, which you will sanction in your state. they will minister to better natures, giving health both of soul and of body; but those who are diseased in their bodies they will leave to die, and the corrupt and incurable souls they will put an end to themselves. that is clearly the best thing both for the patients and for the state. and thus our youth, having been educated only in that simple music which, as we said, inspires temperance, will be reluctant to go to law. clearly. and the musician, who, keeping to the same track, is content to practise the simple gymnastic, will have nothing to do with medicine unless in some extreme case. that i quite believe. the very exercises and tolls which he undergoes are intended to stimulate the spirited element of his nature, and not to increase his strength; he will not, like common athletes, use exercise and regimen to develope his muscles. very right, he said. neither are the two arts of music and gymnastic really designed, as is often supposed, the one for the training of the soul, the other for the training of the body. what then is the real object of them? i believe, i said, that the teachers of both have in view chiefly the improvement of the soul. how can that be? he asked. did you never observe, i said, the effect on the mind itself of exclusive devotion to gymnastic, or the opposite effect of an exclusive devotion to music? in what way shown? he said. the one producing a temper of hardness and ferocity, the other of softness and effeminacy, i replied. yes, he said, i am quite aware that the mere athlete becomes too much of a savage, and that the mere musician is melted and softened beyond what is good for him. yet surely, i said, this ferocity only comes from spirit, which, if rightly educated, would give courage, but, if too much intensified, is liable to become hard and brutal. that i quite think. on the other hand the philosopher will have the quality of gentleness. and this also, when too much indulged, will turn to softness, but, if educated rightly, will be gentle and moderate. true. and in our opinion the guardians ought to have both these qualities? assuredly. and both should be in harmony? beyond question. and the harmonious soul is both temperate and courageous? yes. and the inharmonious is cowardly and boorish? very true. and, when a man allows music to play upon him and to pour into his soul through the funnel of his ears those sweet and soft and melancholy airs of which we were just now speaking, and his whole life is passed in warbling and the delights of song; in the first stage of the process the passion or spirit which is in him is tempered like iron, and made useful, instead of brittle and useless. but, if he carries on the softening and soothing process, in the next stage he begins to melt and waste, until he has wasted away his spirit and cut out the sinews of his soul; and he becomes a feeble warrior. very true. if the element of spirit is naturally weak in him the change is speedily accomplished, but if he have a good deal, then the power of music weakening the spirit renders him excitable;--on the least provocation he flames up at once, and is speedily extinguished; instead of having spirit he grows irritable and passionate and is quite impracticable. exactly. and so in gymnastics, if a man takes violent exercise and is a great feeder, and the reverse of a great student of music and philosophy, at first the high condition of his body fills him with pride and spirit, and he becomes twice the man that he was. certainly. and what happens? if he do nothing else, and holds no converse with the muses, does not even that intelligence which there may be in him, having no taste of any sort of learning or enquiry or thought or culture, grow feeble and dull and blind, his mind never waking up or receiving nourishment, and his senses not being purged of their mists? true, he said. and he ends by becoming a hater of philosophy, uncivilized, never using the weapon of persuasion,--he is like a wild beast, all violence and fierceness, and knows no other way of dealing; and he lives in all ignorance and evil conditions, and has no sense of propriety and grace. that is quite true, he said. and as there are two principles of human nature, one the spirited and the other the philosophical, some god, as i should say, has given mankind two arts answering to them (and only indirectly to the soul and body), in order that these two principles (like the strings of an instrument) may be relaxed or drawn tighter until they are duly harmonized. that appears to be the intention. and he who mingles music with gymnastic in the fairest proportions, and best attempers them to the soul, may be rightly called the true musician and harmonist in a far higher sense than the tuner of the strings. you are quite right, socrates. and such a presiding genius will be always required in our state if the government is to last. yes, he will be absolutely necessary. such, then, are our principles of nurture and education: where would be the use of going into further details about the dances of our citizens, or about their hunting and coursing, their gymnastic and equestrian contests? for these all follow the general principle, and having found that, we shall have no difficulty in discovering them. i dare say that there will be no difficulty. very good, i said; then what is the next question? must we not ask who are to be rulers and who subjects? certainly. there can be no doubt that the elder must rule the younger. clearly. and that the best of these must rule. that is also clear. now, are not the best husbandmen those who are most devoted to husbandry? yes. and as we are to have the best of guardians for our city, must they not be those who have most the character of guardians? yes. and to this end they ought to be wise and efficient, and to have a special care of the state? true. and a man will be most likely to care about that which he loves? to be sure. and he will be most likely to love that which he regards as having the same interests with himself, and that of which the good or evil fortune is supposed by him at any time most to affect his own? very true, he replied. then there must be a selection. let us note among the guardians those who in their whole life show the greatest eagerness to do what is for the good of their country, and the greatest repugnance to do what is against her interests. those are the right men. and they will have to be watched at every age, in order that we may see whether they preserve their resolution, and never, under the influence either of force or enchantment, forget or cast off their sense of duty to the state. how cast off? he said. i will explain to you, i replied. a resolution may go out of a man's mind either with his will or against his will; with his will when he gets rid of a falsehood and learns better, against his will whenever he is deprived of a truth. i understand, he said, the willing loss of a resolution; the meaning of the unwilling i have yet to learn. why, i said, do you not see that men are unwillingly deprived of good, and willingly of evil? is not to have lost the truth an evil, and to possess the truth a good? and you would agree that to conceive things as they are is to possess the truth? yes, he replied; i agree with you in thinking that mankind are deprived of truth against their will. and is not this involuntary deprivation caused either by theft, or force, or enchantment? still, he replied, i do not understand you. i fear that i must have been talking darkly, like the tragedians. i only mean that some men are changed by persuasion and that others forget; argument steals away the hearts of one class, and time of the other; and this i call theft. now you understand me? yes. those again who are forced, are those whom the violence of some pain or grief compels to change their opinion. i understand, he said, and you are quite right. and you would also acknowledge that the enchanted are those who change their minds either under the softer influence of pleasure, or the sterner influence of fear? yes, he said; everything that deceives may be said to enchant. therefore, as i was just now saying, we must enquire who are the best guardians of their own conviction that what they think the interest of the state is to be the rule of their lives. we must watch them from their youth upwards, and make them perform actions in which they are most likely to forget or to be deceived, and he who remembers and is not deceived is to be selected, and he who fails in the trial is to be rejected. that will be the way? yes. and there should also be toils and pains and conflicts prescribed for them, in which they will be made to give further proof of the same qualities. very right, he replied. and then, i said, we must try them with enchantments--that is the third sort of test--and see what will be their behaviour: like those who take colts amid noise and tumult to see if they are of a timid nature, so must we take our youth amid terrors of some kind, and again pass them into pleasures, and prove them more thoroughly than gold is proved in the furnace, that we may discover whether they are armed against all enchantments, and of a noble bearing always, good guardians of themselves and of the music which they have learned, and retaining under all circumstances a rhythmical and harmonious nature, such as will be most serviceable to the individual and to the state. and he who at every age, as boy and youth and in mature life, has come out of the trial victorious and pure, shall be appointed a ruler and guardian of the state; he shall be honoured in life and death, and shall receive sepulture and other memorials of honour, the greatest that we have to give. but him who fails, we must reject. i am inclined to think that this is the sort of way in which our rulers and guardians should be chosen and appointed. i speak generally, and not with any pretension to exactness. and, speaking generally, i agree with you, he said. and perhaps the word 'guardian' in the fullest sense ought to be applied to this higher class only who preserve us against foreign enemies and maintain peace among our citizens at home, that the one may not have the will, or the others the power, to harm us. the young men whom we before called guardians may be more properly designated auxiliaries and supporters of the principles of the rulers. i agree with you, he said. how then may we devise one of those needful falsehoods of which we lately spoke--just one royal lie which may deceive the rulers, if that be possible, and at any rate the rest of the city? what sort of lie? he said. nothing new, i replied; only an old phoenician tale (laws) of what has often occurred before now in other places, (as the poets say, and have made the world believe,) though not in our time, and i do not know whether such an event could ever happen again, or could now even be made probable, if it did. how your words seem to hesitate on your lips! you will not wonder, i replied, at my hesitation when you have heard. speak, he said, and fear not. well then, i will speak, although i really know not how to look you in the face, or in what words to utter the audacious fiction, which i propose to communicate gradually, first to the rulers, then to the soldiers, and lastly to the people. they are to be told that their youth was a dream, and the education and training which they received from us, an appearance only; in reality during all that time they were being formed and fed in the womb of the earth, where they themselves and their arms and appurtenances were manufactured; when they were completed, the earth, their mother, sent them up; and so, their country being their mother and also their nurse, they are bound to advise for her good, and to defend her against attacks, and her citizens they are to regard as children of the earth and their own brothers. you had good reason, he said, to be ashamed of the lie which you were going to tell. true, i replied, but there is more coming; i have only told you half. citizens, we shall say to them in our tale, you are brothers, yet god has framed you differently. some of you have the power of command, and in the composition of these he has mingled gold, wherefore also they have the greatest honour; others he has made of silver, to be auxiliaries; others again who are to be husbandmen and craftsmen he has composed of brass and iron; and the species will generally be preserved in the children. but as all are of the same original stock, a golden parent will sometimes have a silver son, or a silver parent a golden son. and god proclaims as a first principle to the rulers, and above all else, that there is nothing which they should so anxiously guard, or of which they are to be such good guardians, as of the purity of the race. they should observe what elements mingle in their offspring; for if the son of a golden or silver parent has an admixture of brass and iron, then nature orders a transposition of ranks, and the eye of the ruler must not be pitiful towards the child because he has to descend in the scale and become a husbandman or artisan, just as there may be sons of artisans who having an admixture of gold or silver in them are raised to honour, and become guardians or auxiliaries. for an oracle says that when a man of brass or iron guards the state, it will be destroyed. such is the tale; is there any possibility of making our citizens believe in it? not in the present generation, he replied; there is no way of accomplishing this; but their sons may be made to believe in the tale, and their sons' sons, and posterity after them. i see the difficulty, i replied; yet the fostering of such a belief will make them care more for the city and for one another. enough, however, of the fiction, which may now fly abroad upon the wings of rumour, while we arm our earth-born heroes, and lead them forth under the command of their rulers. let them look round and select a spot whence they can best suppress insurrection, if any prove refractory within, and also defend themselves against enemies, who like wolves may come down on the fold from without; there let them encamp, and when they have encamped, let them sacrifice to the proper gods and prepare their dwellings. just so, he said. and their dwellings must be such as will shield them against the cold of winter and the heat of summer. i suppose that you mean houses, he replied. yes, i said; but they must be the houses of soldiers, and not of shop-keepers. what is the difference? he said. that i will endeavour to explain, i replied. to keep watch-dogs, who, from want of discipline or hunger, or some evil habit or other, would turn upon the sheep and worry them, and behave not like dogs but wolves, would be a foul and monstrous thing in a shepherd? truly monstrous, he said. and therefore every care must be taken that our auxiliaries, being stronger than our citizens, may not grow to be too much for them and become savage tyrants instead of friends and allies? yes, great care should be taken. and would not a really good education furnish the best safeguard? but they are well-educated already, he replied. i cannot be so confident, my dear glaucon, i said; i am much more certain that they ought to be, and that true education, whatever that may be, will have the greatest tendency to civilize and humanize them in their relations to one another, and to those who are under their protection. very true, he replied. and not only their education, but their habitations, and all that belongs to them, should be such as will neither impair their virtue as guardians, nor tempt them to prey upon the other citizens. any man of sense must acknowledge that. he must. then now let us consider what will be their way of life, if they are to realize our idea of them. in the first place, none of them should have any property of his own beyond what is absolutely necessary; neither should they have a private house or store closed against any one who has a mind to enter; their provisions should be only such as are required by trained warriors, who are men of temperance and courage; they should agree to receive from the citizens a fixed rate of pay, enough to meet the expenses of the year and no more; and they will go to mess and live together like soldiers in a camp. gold and silver we will tell them that they have from god; the diviner metal is within them, and they have therefore no need of the dross which is current among men, and ought not to pollute the divine by any such earthly admixture; for that commoner metal has been the source of many unholy deeds, but their own is undefiled. and they alone of all the citizens may not touch or handle silver or gold, or be under the same roof with them, or wear them, or drink from them. and this will be their salvation, and they will be the saviours of the state. but should they ever acquire homes or lands or moneys of their own, they will become housekeepers and husbandmen instead of guardians, enemies and tyrants instead of allies of the other citizens; hating and being hated, plotting and being plotted against, they will pass their whole life in much greater terror of internal than of external enemies, and the hour of ruin, both to themselves and to the rest of the state, will be at hand. for all which reasons may we not say that thus shall our state be ordered, and that these shall be the regulations appointed by us for guardians concerning their houses and all other matters? yes, said glaucon. book iv. here adeimantus interposed a question: how would you answer, socrates, said he, if a person were to say that you are making these people miserable, and that they are the cause of their own unhappiness; the city in fact belongs to them, but they are none the better for it; whereas other men acquire lands, and build large and handsome houses, and have everything handsome about them, offering sacrifices to the gods on their own account, and practising hospitality; moreover, as you were saying just now, they have gold and silver, and all that is usual among the favourites of fortune; but our poor citizens are no better than mercenaries who are quartered in the city and are always mounting guard? yes, i said; and you may add that they are only fed, and not paid in addition to their food, like other men; and therefore they cannot, if they would, take a journey of pleasure; they have no money to spend on a mistress or any other luxurious fancy, which, as the world goes, is thought to be happiness; and many other accusations of the same nature might be added. but, said he, let us suppose all this to be included in the charge. you mean to ask, i said, what will be our answer? yes. if we proceed along the old path, my belief, i said, is that we shall find the answer. and our answer will be that, even as they are, our guardians may very likely be the happiest of men; but that our aim in founding the state was not the disproportionate happiness of any one class, but the greatest happiness of the whole; we thought that in a state which is ordered with a view to the good of the whole we should be most likely to find justice, and in the ill-ordered state injustice: and, having found them, we might then decide which of the two is the happier. at present, i take it, we are fashioning the happy state, not piecemeal, or with a view of making a few happy citizens, but as a whole; and by-and-by we will proceed to view the opposite kind of state. suppose that we were painting a statue, and some one came up to us and said, why do you not put the most beautiful colours on the most beautiful parts of the body--the eyes ought to be purple, but you have made them black--to him we might fairly answer, sir, you would not surely have us beautify the eyes to such a degree that they are no longer eyes; consider rather whether, by giving this and the other features their due proportion, we make the whole beautiful. and so i say to you, do not compel us to assign to the guardians a sort of happiness which will make them anything but guardians; for we too can clothe our husbandmen in royal apparel, and set crowns of gold on their heads, and bid them till the ground as much as they like, and no more. our potters also might be allowed to repose on couches, and feast by the fireside, passing round the winecup, while their wheel is conveniently at hand, and working at pottery only as much as they like; in this way we might make every class happy--and then, as you imagine, the whole state would be happy. but do not put this idea into our heads; for, if we listen to you, the husbandman will be no longer a husbandman, the potter will cease to be a potter, and no one will have the character of any distinct class in the state. now this is not of much consequence where the corruption of society, and pretension to be what you are not, is confined to cobblers; but when the guardians of the laws and of the government are only seeming and not real guardians, then see how they turn the state upside down; and on the other hand they alone have the power of giving order and happiness to the state. we mean our guardians to be true saviours and not the destroyers of the state, whereas our opponent is thinking of peasants at a festival, who are enjoying a life of revelry, not of citizens who are doing their duty to the state. but, if so, we mean different things, and he is speaking of something which is not a state. and therefore we must consider whether in appointing our guardians we would look to their greatest happiness individually, or whether this principle of happiness does not rather reside in the state as a whole. but if the latter be the truth, then the guardians and auxiliaries, and all others equally with them, must be compelled or induced to do their own work in the best way. and thus the whole state will grow up in a noble order, and the several classes will receive the proportion of happiness which nature assigns to them. i think that you are quite right. i wonder whether you will agree with another remark which occurs to me. what may that be? there seem to be two causes of the deterioration of the arts. what are they? wealth, i said, and poverty. how do they act? the process is as follows: when a potter becomes rich, will he, think you, any longer take the same pains with his art? certainly not. he will grow more and more indolent and careless? very true. and the result will be that he becomes a worse potter? yes; he greatly deteriorates. but, on the other hand, if he has no money, and cannot provide himself with tools or instruments, he will not work equally well himself, nor will he teach his sons or apprentices to work equally well. certainly not. then, under the influence either of poverty or of wealth, workmen and their work are equally liable to degenerate? that is evident. here, then, is a discovery of new evils, i said, against which the guardians will have to watch, or they will creep into the city unobserved. what evils? wealth, i said, and poverty; the one is the parent of luxury and indolence, and the other of meanness and viciousness, and both of discontent. that is very true, he replied; but still i should like to know, socrates, how our city will be able to go to war, especially against an enemy who is rich and powerful, if deprived of the sinews of war. there would certainly be a difficulty, i replied, in going to war with one such enemy; but there is no difficulty where there are two of them. how so? he asked. in the first place, i said, if we have to fight, our side will be trained warriors fighting against an army of rich men. that is true, he said. and do you not suppose, adeimantus, that a single boxer who was perfect in his art would easily be a match for two stout and well-to-do gentlemen who were not boxers? hardly, if they came upon him at once. what, now, i said, if he were able to run away and then turn and strike at the one who first came up? and supposing he were to do this several times under the heat of a scorching sun, might he not, being an expert, overturn more than one stout personage? certainly, he said, there would be nothing wonderful in that. and yet rich men probably have a greater superiority in the science and practise of boxing than they have in military qualities. likely enough. then we may assume that our athletes will be able to fight with two or three times their own number? i agree with you, for i think you right. and suppose that, before engaging, our citizens send an embassy to one of the two cities, telling them what is the truth: silver and gold we neither have nor are permitted to have, but you may; do you therefore come and help us in war, and take the spoils of the other city: who, on hearing these words, would choose to fight against lean wiry dogs, rather than, with the dogs on their side, against fat and tender sheep? that is not likely; and yet there might be a danger to the poor state if the wealth of many states were to be gathered into one. but how simple of you to use the term state at all of any but our own! why so? you ought to speak of other states in the plural number; not one of them is a city, but many cities, as they say in the game. for indeed any city, however small, is in fact divided into two, one the city of the poor, the other of the rich; these are at war with one another; and in either there are many smaller divisions, and you would be altogether beside the mark if you treated them all as a single state. but if you deal with them as many, and give the wealth or power or persons of the one to the others, you will always have a great many friends and not many enemies. and your state, while the wise order which has now been prescribed continues to prevail in her, will be the greatest of states, i do not mean to say in reputation or appearance, but in deed and truth, though she number not more than a thousand defenders. a single state which is her equal you will hardly find, either among hellenes or barbarians, though many that appear to be as great and many times greater. that is most true, he said. and what, i said, will be the best limit for our rulers to fix when they are considering the size of the state and the amount of territory which they are to include, and beyond which they will not go? what limit would you propose? i would allow the state to increase so far as is consistent with unity; that, i think, is the proper limit. very good, he said. here then, i said, is another order which will have to be conveyed to our guardians: let our city be accounted neither large nor small, but one and self-sufficing. and surely, said he, this is not a very severe order which we impose upon them. and the other, said i, of which we were speaking before is lighter still,--i mean the duty of degrading the offspring of the guardians when inferior, and of elevating into the rank of guardians the offspring of the lower classes, when naturally superior. the intention was, that, in the case of the citizens generally, each individual should be put to the use for which nature intended him, one to one work, and then every man would do his own business, and be one and not many; and so the whole city would be one and not many. yes, he said; that is not so difficult. the regulations which we are prescribing, my good adeimantus, are not, as might be supposed, a number of great principles, but trifles all, if care be taken, as the saying is, of the one great thing,--a thing, however, which i would rather call, not great, but sufficient for our purpose. what may that be? he asked. education, i said, and nurture: if our citizens are well educated, and grow into sensible men, they will easily see their way through all these, as well as other matters which i omit; such, for example, as marriage, the possession of women and the procreation of children, which will all follow the general principle that friends have all things in common, as the proverb says. that will be the best way of settling them. also, i said, the state, if once started well, moves with accumulating force like a wheel. for good nurture and education implant good constitutions, and these good constitutions taking root in a good education improve more and more, and this improvement affects the breed in man as in other animals. very possibly, he said. then to sum up: this is the point to which, above all, the attention of our rulers should be directed,--that music and gymnastic be preserved in their original form, and no innovation made. they must do their utmost to maintain them intact. and when any one says that mankind most regard 'the newest song which the singers have,' they will be afraid that he may be praising, not new songs, but a new kind of song; and this ought not to be praised, or conceived to be the meaning of the poet; for any musical innovation is full of danger to the whole state, and ought to be prohibited. so damon tells me, and i can quite believe him;--he says that when modes of music change, the fundamental laws of the state always change with them. yes, said adeimantus; and you may add my suffrage to damon's and your own. then, i said, our guardians must lay the foundations of their fortress in music? yes, he said; the lawlessness of which you speak too easily steals in. yes, i replied, in the form of amusement; and at first sight it appears harmless. why, yes, he said, and there is no harm; were it not that little by little this spirit of licence, finding a home, imperceptibly penetrates into manners and customs; whence, issuing with greater force, it invades contracts between man and man, and from contracts goes on to laws and constitutions, in utter recklessness, ending at last, socrates, by an overthrow of all rights, private as well as public. is that true? i said. that is my belief, he replied. then, as i was saying, our youth should be trained from the first in a stricter system, for if amusements become lawless, and the youths themselves become lawless, they can never grow up into well-conducted and virtuous citizens. very true, he said. and when they have made a good beginning in play, and by the help of music have gained the habit of good order, then this habit of order, in a manner how unlike the lawless play of the others! will accompany them in all their actions and be a principle of growth to them, and if there be any fallen places in the state will raise them up again. very true, he said. thus educated, they will invent for themselves any lesser rules which their predecessors have altogether neglected. what do you mean? i mean such things as these:--when the young are to be silent before their elders; how they are to show respect to them by standing and making them sit; what honour is due to parents; what garments or shoes are to be worn; the mode of dressing the hair; deportment and manners in general. you would agree with me? yes. but there is, i think, small wisdom in legislating about such matters,--i doubt if it is ever done; nor are any precise written enactments about them likely to be lasting. impossible. it would seem, adeimantus, that the direction in which education starts a man, will determine his future life. does not like always attract like? to be sure. until some one rare and grand result is reached which may be good, and may be the reverse of good? that is not to be denied. and for this reason, i said, i shall not attempt to legislate further about them. naturally enough, he replied. well, and about the business of the agora, and the ordinary dealings between man and man, or again about agreements with artisans; about insult and injury, or the commencement of actions, and the appointment of juries, what would you say? there may also arise questions about any impositions and exactions of market and harbour dues which may be required, and in general about the regulations of markets, police, harbours, and the like. but, oh heavens! shall we condescend to legislate on any of these particulars? i think, he said, that there is no need to impose laws about them on good men; what regulations are necessary they will find out soon enough for themselves. yes, i said, my friend, if god will only preserve to them the laws which we have given them. and without divine help, said adeimantus, they will go on for ever making and mending their laws and their lives in the hope of attaining perfection. you would compare them, i said, to those invalids who, having no self-restraint, will not leave off their habits of intemperance? exactly. yes, i said; and what a delightful life they lead! they are always doctoring and increasing and complicating their disorders, and always fancying that they will be cured by any nostrum which anybody advises them to try. such cases are very common, he said, with invalids of this sort. yes, i replied; and the charming thing is that they deem him their worst enemy who tells them the truth, which is simply that, unless they give up eating and drinking and wenching and idling, neither drug nor cautery nor spell nor amulet nor any other remedy will avail. charming! he replied. i see nothing charming in going into a passion with a man who tells you what is right. these gentlemen, i said, do not seem to be in your good graces. assuredly not. nor would you praise the behaviour of states which act like the men whom i was just now describing. for are there not ill-ordered states in which the citizens are forbidden under pain of death to alter the constitution; and yet he who most sweetly courts those who live under this regime and indulges them and fawns upon them and is skilful in anticipating and gratifying their humours is held to be a great and good statesman--do not these states resemble the persons whom i was describing? yes, he said; the states are as bad as the men; and i am very far from praising them. but do you not admire, i said, the coolness and dexterity of these ready ministers of political corruption? yes, he said, i do; but not of all of them, for there are some whom the applause of the multitude has deluded into the belief that they are really statesmen, and these are not much to be admired. what do you mean? i said; you should have more feeling for them. when a man cannot measure, and a great many others who cannot measure declare that he is four cubits high, can he help believing what they say? nay, he said, certainly not in that case. well, then, do not be angry with them; for are they not as good as a play, trying their hand at paltry reforms such as i was describing; they are always fancying that by legislation they will make an end of frauds in contracts, and the other rascalities which i was mentioning, not knowing that they are in reality cutting off the heads of a hydra? yes, he said; that is just what they are doing. i conceive, i said, that the true legislator will not trouble himself with this class of enactments whether concerning laws or the constitution either in an ill-ordered or in a well-ordered state; for in the former they are quite useless, and in the latter there will be no difficulty in devising them; and many of them will naturally flow out of our previous regulations. what, then, he said, is still remaining to us of the work of legislation? nothing to us, i replied; but to apollo, the god of delphi, there remains the ordering of the greatest and noblest and chiefest things of all. which are they? he said. the institution of temples and sacrifices, and the entire service of gods, demigods, and heroes; also the ordering of the repositories of the dead, and the rites which have to be observed by him who would propitiate the inhabitants of the world below. these are matters of which we are ignorant ourselves, and as founders of a city we should be unwise in trusting them to any interpreter but our ancestral deity. he is the god who sits in the centre, on the navel of the earth, and he is the interpreter of religion to all mankind. you are right, and we will do as you propose. but where, amid all this, is justice? son of ariston, tell me where. now that our city has been made habitable, light a candle and search, and get your brother and polemarchus and the rest of our friends to help, and let us see where in it we can discover justice and where injustice, and in what they differ from one another, and which of them the man who would be happy should have for his portion, whether seen or unseen by gods and men. nonsense, said glaucon: did you not promise to search yourself, saying that for you not to help justice in her need would be an impiety? i do not deny that i said so, and as you remind me, i will be as good as my word; but you must join. we will, he replied. well, then, i hope to make the discovery in this way: i mean to begin with the assumption that our state, if rightly ordered, is perfect. that is most certain. and being perfect, is therefore wise and valiant and temperate and just. that is likewise clear. and whichever of these qualities we find in the state, the one which is not found will be the residue? very good. if there were four things, and we were searching for one of them, wherever it might be, the one sought for might be known to us from the first, and there would be no further trouble; or we might know the other three first, and then the fourth would clearly be the one left. very true, he said. and is not a similar method to be pursued about the virtues, which are also four in number? clearly. first among the virtues found in the state, wisdom comes into view, and in this i detect a certain peculiarity. what is that? the state which we have been describing is said to be wise as being good in counsel? very true. and good counsel is clearly a kind of knowledge, for not by ignorance, but by knowledge, do men counsel well? clearly. and the kinds of knowledge in a state are many and diverse? of course. there is the knowledge of the carpenter; but is that the sort of knowledge which gives a city the title of wise and good in counsel? certainly not; that would only give a city the reputation of skill in carpentering. then a city is not to be called wise because possessing a knowledge which counsels for the best about wooden implements? certainly not. nor by reason of a knowledge which advises about brazen pots, i said, nor as possessing any other similar knowledge? not by reason of any of them, he said. nor yet by reason of a knowledge which cultivates the earth; that would give the city the name of agricultural? yes. well, i said, and is there any knowledge in our recently-founded state among any of the citizens which advises, not about any particular thing in the state, but about the whole, and considers how a state can best deal with itself and with other states? there certainly is. and what is this knowledge, and among whom is it found? i asked. it is the knowledge of the guardians, he replied, and is found among those whom we were just now describing as perfect guardians. and what is the name which the city derives from the possession of this sort of knowledge? the name of good in counsel and truly wise. and will there be in our city more of these true guardians or more smiths? the smiths, he replied, will be far more numerous. will not the guardians be the smallest of all the classes who receive a name from the profession of some kind of knowledge? much the smallest. and so by reason of the smallest part or class, and of the knowledge which resides in this presiding and ruling part of itself, the whole state, being thus constituted according to nature, will be wise; and this, which has the only knowledge worthy to be called wisdom, has been ordained by nature to be of all classes the least. most true. thus, then, i said, the nature and place in the state of one of the four virtues has somehow or other been discovered. and, in my humble opinion, very satisfactorily discovered, he replied. again, i said, there is no difficulty in seeing the nature of courage, and in what part that quality resides which gives the name of courageous to the state. how do you mean? why, i said, every one who calls any state courageous or cowardly, will be thinking of the part which fights and goes out to war on the state's behalf. no one, he replied, would ever think of any other. the rest of the citizens may be courageous or may be cowardly, but their courage or cowardice will not, as i conceive, have the effect of making the city either the one or the other. certainly not. the city will be courageous in virtue of a portion of herself which preserves under all circumstances that opinion about the nature of things to be feared and not to be feared in which our legislator educated them; and this is what you term courage. i should like to hear what you are saying once more, for i do not think that i perfectly understand you. i mean that courage is a kind of salvation. salvation of what? of the opinion respecting things to be feared, what they are and of what nature, which the law implants through education; and i mean by the words 'under all circumstances' to intimate that in pleasure or in pain, or under the influence of desire or fear, a man preserves, and does not lose this opinion. shall i give you an illustration? if you please. you know, i said, that dyers, when they want to dye wool for making the true sea-purple, begin by selecting their white colour first; this they prepare and dress with much care and pains, in order that the white ground may take the purple hue in full perfection. the dyeing then proceeds; and whatever is dyed in this manner becomes a fast colour, and no washing either with lyes or without them can take away the bloom. but, when the ground has not been duly prepared, you will have noticed how poor is the look either of purple or of any other colour. yes, he said; i know that they have a washed-out and ridiculous appearance. then now, i said, you will understand what our object was in selecting our soldiers, and educating them in music and gymnastic; we were contriving influences which would prepare them to take the dye of the laws in perfection, and the colour of their opinion about dangers and of every other opinion was to be indelibly fixed by their nurture and training, not to be washed away by such potent lyes as pleasure--mightier agent far in washing the soul than any soda or lye; or by sorrow, fear, and desire, the mightiest of all other solvents. and this sort of universal saving power of true opinion in conformity with law about real and false dangers i call and maintain to be courage, unless you disagree. but i agree, he replied; for i suppose that you mean to exclude mere uninstructed courage, such as that of a wild beast or of a slave--this, in your opinion, is not the courage which the law ordains, and ought to have another name. most certainly. then i may infer courage to be such as you describe? why, yes, said i, you may, and if you add the words 'of a citizen,' you will not be far wrong;--hereafter, if you like, we will carry the examination further, but at present we are seeking not for courage but justice; and for the purpose of our enquiry we have said enough. you are right, he replied. two virtues remain to be discovered in the state--first, temperance, and then justice which is the end of our search. very true. now, can we find justice without troubling ourselves about temperance? i do not know how that can be accomplished, he said, nor do i desire that justice should be brought to light and temperance lost sight of; and therefore i wish that you would do me the favour of considering temperance first. certainly, i replied, i should not be justified in refusing your request. then consider, he said. yes, i replied; i will; and as far as i can at present see, the virtue of temperance has more of the nature of harmony and symphony than the preceding. how so? he asked. temperance, i replied, is the ordering or controlling of certain pleasures and desires; this is curiously enough implied in the saying of 'a man being his own master;' and other traces of the same notion may be found in language. no doubt, he said. there is something ridiculous in the expression 'master of himself;' for the master is also the servant and the servant the master; and in all these modes of speaking the same person is denoted. certainly. the meaning is, i believe, that in the human soul there is a better and also a worse principle; and when the better has the worse under control, then a man is said to be master of himself; and this is a term of praise: but when, owing to evil education or association, the better principle, which is also the smaller, is overwhelmed by the greater mass of the worse--in this case he is blamed and is called the slave of self and unprincipled. yes, there is reason in that. and now, i said, look at our newly-created state, and there you will find one of these two conditions realized; for the state, as you will acknowledge, may be justly called master of itself, if the words 'temperance' and 'self-mastery' truly express the rule of the better part over the worse. yes, he said, i see that what you say is true. let me further note that the manifold and complex pleasures and desires and pains are generally found in children and women and servants, and in the freemen so called who are of the lowest and more numerous class. certainly, he said. whereas the simple and moderate desires which follow reason, and are under the guidance of mind and true opinion, are to be found only in a few, and those the best born and best educated. very true. these two, as you may perceive, have a place in our state; and the meaner desires of the many are held down by the virtuous desires and wisdom of the few. that i perceive, he said. then if there be any city which may be described as master of its own pleasures and desires, and master of itself, ours may claim such a designation? certainly, he replied. it may also be called temperate, and for the same reasons? yes. and if there be any state in which rulers and subjects will be agreed as to the question who are to rule, that again will be our state? undoubtedly. and the citizens being thus agreed among themselves, in which class will temperance be found--in the rulers or in the subjects? in both, as i should imagine, he replied. do you observe that we were not far wrong in our guess that temperance was a sort of harmony? why so? why, because temperance is unlike courage and wisdom, each of which resides in a part only, the one making the state wise and the other valiant; not so temperance, which extends to the whole, and runs through all the notes of the scale, and produces a harmony of the weaker and the stronger and the middle class, whether you suppose them to be stronger or weaker in wisdom or power or numbers or wealth, or anything else. most truly then may we deem temperance to be the agreement of the naturally superior and inferior, as to the right to rule of either, both in states and individuals. i entirely agree with you. and so, i said, we may consider three out of the four virtues to have been discovered in our state. the last of those qualities which make a state virtuous must be justice, if we only knew what that was. the inference is obvious. the time then has arrived, glaucon, when, like huntsmen, we should surround the cover, and look sharp that justice does not steal away, and pass out of sight and escape us; for beyond a doubt she is somewhere in this country: watch therefore and strive to catch a sight of her, and if you see her first, let me know. would that i could! but you should regard me rather as a follower who has just eyes enough to see what you show him--that is about as much as i am good for. offer up a prayer with me and follow. i will, but you must show me the way. here is no path, i said, and the wood is dark and perplexing; still we must push on. let us push on. here i saw something: halloo! i said, i begin to perceive a track, and i believe that the quarry will not escape. good news, he said. truly, i said, we are stupid fellows. why so? why, my good sir, at the beginning of our enquiry, ages ago, there was justice tumbling out at our feet, and we never saw her; nothing could be more ridiculous. like people who go about looking for what they have in their hands--that was the way with us--we looked not at what we were seeking, but at what was far off in the distance; and therefore, i suppose, we missed her. what do you mean? i mean to say that in reality for a long time past we have been talking of justice, and have failed to recognise her. i grow impatient at the length of your exordium. well then, tell me, i said, whether i am right or not: you remember the original principle which we were always laying down at the foundation of the state, that one man should practise one thing only, the thing to which his nature was best adapted;--now justice is this principle or a part of it. yes, we often said that one man should do one thing only. further, we affirmed that justice was doing one's own business, and not being a busybody; we said so again and again, and many others have said the same to us. yes, we said so. then to do one's own business in a certain way may be assumed to be justice. can you tell me whence i derive this inference? i cannot, but i should like to be told. because i think that this is the only virtue which remains in the state when the other virtues of temperance and courage and wisdom are abstracted; and, that this is the ultimate cause and condition of the existence of all of them, and while remaining in them is also their preservative; and we were saying that if the three were discovered by us, justice would be the fourth or remaining one. that follows of necessity. if we are asked to determine which of these four qualities by its presence contributes most to the excellence of the state, whether the agreement of rulers and subjects, or the preservation in the soldiers of the opinion which the law ordains about the true nature of dangers, or wisdom and watchfulness in the rulers, or whether this other which i am mentioning, and which is found in children and women, slave and freeman, artisan, ruler, subject,--the quality, i mean, of every one doing his own work, and not being a busybody, would claim the palm--the question is not so easily answered. certainly, he replied, there would be a difficulty in saying which. then the power of each individual in the state to do his own work appears to compete with the other political virtues, wisdom, temperance, courage. yes, he said. and the virtue which enters into this competition is justice? exactly. let us look at the question from another point of view: are not the rulers in a state those to whom you would entrust the office of determining suits at law? certainly. and are suits decided on any other ground but that a man may neither take what is another's, nor be deprived of what is his own? yes; that is their principle. which is a just principle? yes. then on this view also justice will be admitted to be the having and doing what is a man's own, and belongs to him? very true. think, now, and say whether you agree with me or not. suppose a carpenter to be doing the business of a cobbler, or a cobbler of a carpenter; and suppose them to exchange their implements or their duties, or the same person to be doing the work of both, or whatever be the change; do you think that any great harm would result to the state? not much. but when the cobbler or any other man whom nature designed to be a trader, having his heart lifted up by wealth or strength or the number of his followers, or any like advantage, attempts to force his way into the class of warriors, or a warrior into that of legislators and guardians, for which he is unfitted, and either to take the implements or the duties of the other; or when one man is trader, legislator, and warrior all in one, then i think you will agree with me in saying that this interchange and this meddling of one with another is the ruin of the state. most true. seeing then, i said, that there are three distinct classes, any meddling of one with another, or the change of one into another, is the greatest harm to the state, and may be most justly termed evil-doing? precisely. and the greatest degree of evil-doing to one's own city would be termed by you injustice? certainly. this then is injustice; and on the other hand when the trader, the auxiliary, and the guardian each do their own business, that is justice, and will make the city just. i agree with you. we will not, i said, be over-positive as yet; but if, on trial, this conception of justice be verified in the individual as well as in the state, there will be no longer any room for doubt; if it be not verified, we must have a fresh enquiry. first let us complete the old investigation, which we began, as you remember, under the impression that, if we could previously examine justice on the larger scale, there would be less difficulty in discerning her in the individual. that larger example appeared to be the state, and accordingly we constructed as good a one as we could, knowing well that in the good state justice would be found. let the discovery which we made be now applied to the individual--if they agree, we shall be satisfied; or, if there be a difference in the individual, we will come back to the state and have another trial of the theory. the friction of the two when rubbed together may possibly strike a light in which justice will shine forth, and the vision which is then revealed we will fix in our souls. that will be in regular course; let us do as you say. i proceeded to ask: when two things, a greater and less, are called by the same name, are they like or unlike in so far as they are called the same? like, he replied. the just man then, if we regard the idea of justice only, will be like the just state? he will. and a state was thought by us to be just when the three classes in the state severally did their own business; and also thought to be temperate and valiant and wise by reason of certain other affections and qualities of these same classes? true, he said. and so of the individual; we may assume that he has the same three principles in his own soul which are found in the state; and he may be rightly described in the same terms, because he is affected in the same manner? certainly, he said. once more then, o my friend, we have alighted upon an easy question--whether the soul has these three principles or not? an easy question! nay, rather, socrates, the proverb holds that hard is the good. very true, i said; and i do not think that the method which we are employing is at all adequate to the accurate solution of this question; the true method is another and a longer one. still we may arrive at a solution not below the level of the previous enquiry. may we not be satisfied with that? he said;--under the circumstances, i am quite content. i too, i replied, shall be extremely well satisfied. then faint not in pursuing the speculation, he said. must we not acknowledge, i said, that in each of us there are the same principles and habits which there are in the state; and that from the individual they pass into the state?--how else can they come there? take the quality of passion or spirit;--it would be ridiculous to imagine that this quality, when found in states, is not derived from the individuals who are supposed to possess it, e.g. the thracians, scythians, and in general the northern nations; and the same may be said of the love of knowledge, which is the special characteristic of our part of the world, or of the love of money, which may, with equal truth, be attributed to the phoenicians and egyptians. exactly so, he said. there is no difficulty in understanding this. none whatever. but the question is not quite so easy when we proceed to ask whether these principles are three or one; whether, that is to say, we learn with one part of our nature, are angry with another, and with a third part desire the satisfaction of our natural appetites; or whether the whole soul comes into play in each sort of action--to determine that is the difficulty. yes, he said; there lies the difficulty. then let us now try and determine whether they are the same or different. how can we? he asked. i replied as follows: the same thing clearly cannot act or be acted upon in the same part or in relation to the same thing at the same time, in contrary ways; and therefore whenever this contradiction occurs in things apparently the same, we know that they are really not the same, but different. good. for example, i said, can the same thing be at rest and in motion at the same time in the same part? impossible. still, i said, let us have a more precise statement of terms, lest we should hereafter fall out by the way. imagine the case of a man who is standing and also moving his hands and his head, and suppose a person to say that one and the same person is in motion and at rest at the same moment--to such a mode of speech we should object, and should rather say that one part of him is in motion while another is at rest. very true. and suppose the objector to refine still further, and to draw the nice distinction that not only parts of tops, but whole tops, when they spin round with their pegs fixed on the spot, are at rest and in motion at the same time (and he may say the same of anything which revolves in the same spot), his objection would not be admitted by us, because in such cases things are not at rest and in motion in the same parts of themselves; we should rather say that they have both an axis and a circumference, and that the axis stands still, for there is no deviation from the perpendicular; and that the circumference goes round. but if, while revolving, the axis inclines either to the right or left, forwards or backwards, then in no point of view can they be at rest. that is the correct mode of describing them, he replied. then none of these objections will confuse us, or incline us to believe that the same thing at the same time, in the same part or in relation to the same thing, can act or be acted upon in contrary ways. certainly not, according to my way of thinking. yet, i said, that we may not be compelled to examine all such objections, and prove at length that they are untrue, let us assume their absurdity, and go forward on the understanding that hereafter, if this assumption turn out to be untrue, all the consequences which follow shall be withdrawn. yes, he said, that will be the best way. well, i said, would you not allow that assent and dissent, desire and aversion, attraction and repulsion, are all of them opposites, whether they are regarded as active or passive (for that makes no difference in the fact of their opposition)? yes, he said, they are opposites. well, i said, and hunger and thirst, and the desires in general, and again willing and wishing,--all these you would refer to the classes already mentioned. you would say--would you not?--that the soul of him who desires is seeking after the object of his desire; or that he is drawing to himself the thing which he wishes to possess: or again, when a person wants anything to be given him, his mind, longing for the realization of his desire, intimates his wish to have it by a nod of assent, as if he had been asked a question? very true. and what would you say of unwillingness and dislike and the absence of desire; should not these be referred to the opposite class of repulsion and rejection? certainly. admitting this to be true of desire generally, let us suppose a particular class of desires, and out of these we will select hunger and thirst, as they are termed, which are the most obvious of them? let us take that class, he said. the object of one is food, and of the other drink? yes. and here comes the point: is not thirst the desire which the soul has of drink, and of drink only; not of drink qualified by anything else; for example, warm or cold, or much or little, or, in a word, drink of any particular sort: but if the thirst be accompanied by heat, then the desire is of cold drink; or, if accompanied by cold, then of warm drink; or, if the thirst be excessive, then the drink which is desired will be excessive; or, if not great, the quantity of drink will also be small: but thirst pure and simple will desire drink pure and simple, which is the natural satisfaction of thirst, as food is of hunger? yes, he said; the simple desire is, as you say, in every case of the simple object, and the qualified desire of the qualified object. but here a confusion may arise; and i should wish to guard against an opponent starting up and saying that no man desires drink only, but good drink, or food only, but good food; for good is the universal object of desire, and thirst being a desire, will necessarily be thirst after good drink; and the same is true of every other desire. yes, he replied, the opponent might have something to say. nevertheless i should still maintain, that of relatives some have a quality attached to either term of the relation; others are simple and have their correlatives simple. i do not know what you mean. well, you know of course that the greater is relative to the less? certainly. and the much greater to the much less? yes. and the sometime greater to the sometime less, and the greater that is to be to the less that is to be? certainly, he said. and so of more and less, and of other correlative terms, such as the double and the half, or again, the heavier and the lighter, the swifter and the slower; and of hot and cold, and of any other relatives;--is not this true of all of them? yes. and does not the same principle hold in the sciences? the object of science is knowledge (assuming that to be the true definition), but the object of a particular science is a particular kind of knowledge; i mean, for example, that the science of house-building is a kind of knowledge which is defined and distinguished from other kinds and is therefore termed architecture. certainly. because it has a particular quality which no other has? yes. and it has this particular quality because it has an object of a particular kind; and this is true of the other arts and sciences? yes. now, then, if i have made myself clear, you will understand my original meaning in what i said about relatives. my meaning was, that if one term of a relation is taken alone, the other is taken alone; if one term is qualified, the other is also qualified. i do not mean to say that relatives may not be disparate, or that the science of health is healthy, or of disease necessarily diseased, or that the sciences of good and evil are therefore good and evil; but only that, when the term science is no longer used absolutely, but has a qualified object which in this case is the nature of health and disease, it becomes defined, and is hence called not merely science, but the science of medicine. i quite understand, and i think as you do. would you not say that thirst is one of these essentially relative terms, having clearly a relation-- yes, thirst is relative to drink. and a certain kind of thirst is relative to a certain kind of drink; but thirst taken alone is neither of much nor little, nor of good nor bad, nor of any particular kind of drink, but of drink only? certainly. then the soul of the thirsty one, in so far as he is thirsty, desires only drink; for this he yearns and tries to obtain it? that is plain. and if you suppose something which pulls a thirsty soul away from drink, that must be different from the thirsty principle which draws him like a beast to drink; for, as we were saying, the same thing cannot at the same time with the same part of itself act in contrary ways about the same. impossible. no more than you can say that the hands of the archer push and pull the bow at the same time, but what you say is that one hand pushes and the other pulls. exactly so, he replied. and might a man be thirsty, and yet unwilling to drink? yes, he said, it constantly happens. and in such a case what is one to say? would you not say that there was something in the soul bidding a man to drink, and something else forbidding him, which is other and stronger than the principle which bids him? i should say so. and the forbidding principle is derived from reason, and that which bids and attracts proceeds from passion and disease? clearly. then we may fairly assume that they are two, and that they differ from one another; the one with which a man reasons, we may call the rational principle of the soul, the other, with which he loves and hungers and thirsts and feels the flutterings of any other desire, may be termed the irrational or appetitive, the ally of sundry pleasures and satisfactions? yes, he said, we may fairly assume them to be different. then let us finally determine that there are two principles existing in the soul. and what of passion, or spirit? is it a third, or akin to one of the preceding? i should be inclined to say--akin to desire. well, i said, there is a story which i remember to have heard, and in which i put faith. the story is, that leontius, the son of aglaion, coming up one day from the piraeus, under the north wall on the outside, observed some dead bodies lying on the ground at the place of execution. he felt a desire to see them, and also a dread and abhorrence of them; for a time he struggled and covered his eyes, but at length the desire got the better of him; and forcing them open, he ran up to the dead bodies, saying, look, ye wretches, take your fill of the fair sight. i have heard the story myself, he said. the moral of the tale is, that anger at times goes to war with desire, as though they were two distinct things. yes; that is the meaning, he said. and are there not many other cases in which we observe that when a man's desires violently prevail over his reason, he reviles himself, and is angry at the violence within him, and that in this struggle, which is like the struggle of factions in a state, his spirit is on the side of his reason;--but for the passionate or spirited element to take part with the desires when reason decides that she should not be opposed, is a sort of thing which i believe that you never observed occurring in yourself, nor, as i should imagine, in any one else? certainly not. suppose that a man thinks he has done a wrong to another, the nobler he is the less able is he to feel indignant at any suffering, such as hunger, or cold, or any other pain which the injured person may inflict upon him--these he deems to be just, and, as i say, his anger refuses to be excited by them. true, he said. but when he thinks that he is the sufferer of the wrong, then he boils and chafes, and is on the side of what he believes to be justice; and because he suffers hunger or cold or other pain he is only the more determined to persevere and conquer. his noble spirit will not be quelled until he either slays or is slain; or until he hears the voice of the shepherd, that is, reason, bidding his dog bark no more. the illustration is perfect, he replied; and in our state, as we were saying, the auxiliaries were to be dogs, and to hear the voice of the rulers, who are their shepherds. i perceive, i said, that you quite understand me; there is, however, a further point which i wish you to consider. what point? you remember that passion or spirit appeared at first sight to be a kind of desire, but now we should say quite the contrary; for in the conflict of the soul spirit is arrayed on the side of the rational principle. most assuredly. but a further question arises: is passion different from reason also, or only a kind of reason; in which latter case, instead of three principles in the soul, there will only be two, the rational and the concupiscent; or rather, as the state was composed of three classes, traders, auxiliaries, counsellors, so may there not be in the individual soul a third element which is passion or spirit, and when not corrupted by bad education is the natural auxiliary of reason? yes, he said, there must be a third. yes, i replied, if passion, which has already been shown to be different from desire, turn out also to be different from reason. but that is easily proved:--we may observe even in young children that they are full of spirit almost as soon as they are born, whereas some of them never seem to attain to the use of reason, and most of them late enough. excellent, i said, and you may see passion equally in brute animals, which is a further proof of the truth of what you are saying. and we may once more appeal to the words of homer, which have been already quoted by us, 'he smote his breast, and thus rebuked his soul,' for in this verse homer has clearly supposed the power which reasons about the better and worse to be different from the unreasoning anger which is rebuked by it. very true, he said. and so, after much tossing, we have reached land, and are fairly agreed that the same principles which exist in the state exist also in the individual, and that they are three in number. exactly. must we not then infer that the individual is wise in the same way, and in virtue of the same quality which makes the state wise? certainly. also that the same quality which constitutes courage in the state constitutes courage in the individual, and that both the state and the individual bear the same relation to all the other virtues? assuredly. and the individual will be acknowledged by us to be just in the same way in which the state is just? that follows, of course. we cannot but remember that the justice of the state consisted in each of the three classes doing the work of its own class? we are not very likely to have forgotten, he said. we must recollect that the individual in whom the several qualities of his nature do their own work will be just, and will do his own work? yes, he said, we must remember that too. and ought not the rational principle, which is wise, and has the care of the whole soul, to rule, and the passionate or spirited principle to be the subject and ally? certainly. and, as we were saying, the united influence of music and gymnastic will bring them into accord, nerving and sustaining the reason with noble words and lessons, and moderating and soothing and civilizing the wildness of passion by harmony and rhythm? quite true, he said. and these two, thus nurtured and educated, and having learned truly to know their own functions, will rule over the concupiscent, which in each of us is the largest part of the soul and by nature most insatiable of gain; over this they will keep guard, lest, waxing great and strong with the fulness of bodily pleasures, as they are termed, the concupiscent soul, no longer confined to her own sphere, should attempt to enslave and rule those who are not her natural-born subjects, and overturn the whole life of man? very true, he said. both together will they not be the best defenders of the whole soul and the whole body against attacks from without; the one counselling, and the other fighting under his leader, and courageously executing his commands and counsels? true. and he is to be deemed courageous whose spirit retains in pleasure and in pain the commands of reason about what he ought or ought not to fear? right, he replied. and him we call wise who has in him that little part which rules, and which proclaims these commands; that part too being supposed to have a knowledge of what is for the interest of each of the three parts and of the whole? assuredly. and would you not say that he is temperate who has these same elements in friendly harmony, in whom the one ruling principle of reason, and the two subject ones of spirit and desire are equally agreed that reason ought to rule, and do not rebel? certainly, he said, that is the true account of temperance whether in the state or individual. and surely, i said, we have explained again and again how and by virtue of what quality a man will be just. that is very certain. and is justice dimmer in the individual, and is her form different, or is she the same which we found her to be in the state? there is no difference in my opinion, he said. because, if any doubt is still lingering in our minds, a few commonplace instances will satisfy us of the truth of what i am saying. what sort of instances do you mean? if the case is put to us, must we not admit that the just state, or the man who is trained in the principles of such a state, will be less likely than the unjust to make away with a deposit of gold or silver? would any one deny this? no one, he replied. will the just man or citizen ever be guilty of sacrilege or theft, or treachery either to his friends or to his country? never. neither will he ever break faith where there have been oaths or agreements? impossible. no one will be less likely to commit adultery, or to dishonour his father and mother, or to fail in his religious duties? no one. and the reason is that each part of him is doing its own business, whether in ruling or being ruled? exactly so. are you satisfied then that the quality which makes such men and such states is justice, or do you hope to discover some other? not i, indeed. then our dream has been realized; and the suspicion which we entertained at the beginning of our work of construction, that some divine power must have conducted us to a primary form of justice, has now been verified? yes, certainly. and the division of labour which required the carpenter and the shoemaker and the rest of the citizens to be doing each his own business, and not another's, was a shadow of justice, and for that reason it was of use? clearly. but in reality justice was such as we were describing, being concerned however, not with the outward man, but with the inward, which is the true self and concernment of man: for the just man does not permit the several elements within him to interfere with one another, or any of them to do the work of others,--he sets in order his own inner life, and is his own master and his own law, and at peace with himself; and when he has bound together the three principles within him, which may be compared to the higher, lower, and middle notes of the scale, and the intermediate intervals--when he has bound all these together, and is no longer many, but has become one entirely temperate and perfectly adjusted nature, then he proceeds to act, if he has to act, whether in a matter of property, or in the treatment of the body, or in some affair of politics or private business; always thinking and calling that which preserves and co-operates with this harmonious condition, just and good action, and the knowledge which presides over it, wisdom, and that which at any time impairs this condition, he will call unjust action, and the opinion which presides over it ignorance. you have said the exact truth, socrates. very good; and if we were to affirm that we had discovered the just man and the just state, and the nature of justice in each of them, we should not be telling a falsehood? most certainly not. may we say so, then? let us say so. and now, i said, injustice has to be considered. clearly. must not injustice be a strife which arises among the three principles--a meddlesomeness, and interference, and rising up of a part of the soul against the whole, an assertion of unlawful authority, which is made by a rebellious subject against a true prince, of whom he is the natural vassal,--what is all this confusion and delusion but injustice, and intemperance and cowardice and ignorance, and every form of vice? exactly so. and if the nature of justice and injustice be known, then the meaning of acting unjustly and being unjust, or, again, of acting justly, will also be perfectly clear? what do you mean? he said. why, i said, they are like disease and health; being in the soul just what disease and health are in the body. how so? he said. why, i said, that which is healthy causes health, and that which is unhealthy causes disease. yes. and just actions cause justice, and unjust actions cause injustice? that is certain. and the creation of health is the institution of a natural order and government of one by another in the parts of the body; and the creation of disease is the production of a state of things at variance with this natural order? true. and is not the creation of justice the institution of a natural order and government of one by another in the parts of the soul, and the creation of injustice the production of a state of things at variance with the natural order? exactly so, he said. then virtue is the health and beauty and well-being of the soul, and vice the disease and weakness and deformity of the same? true. and do not good practices lead to virtue, and evil practices to vice? assuredly. still our old question of the comparative advantage of justice and injustice has not been answered: which is the more profitable, to be just and act justly and practise virtue, whether seen or unseen of gods and men, or to be unjust and act unjustly, if only unpunished and unreformed? in my judgment, socrates, the question has now become ridiculous. we know that, when the bodily constitution is gone, life is no longer endurable, though pampered with all kinds of meats and drinks, and having all wealth and all power; and shall we be told that when the very essence of the vital principle is undermined and corrupted, life is still worth having to a man, if only he be allowed to do whatever he likes with the single exception that he is not to acquire justice and virtue, or to escape from injustice and vice; assuming them both to be such as we have described? yes, i said, the question is, as you say, ridiculous. still, as we are near the spot at which we may see the truth in the clearest manner with our own eyes, let us not faint by the way. certainly not, he replied. come up hither, i said, and behold the various forms of vice, those of them, i mean, which are worth looking at. i am following you, he replied: proceed. i said, the argument seems to have reached a height from which, as from some tower of speculation, a man may look down and see that virtue is one, but that the forms of vice are innumerable; there being four special ones which are deserving of note. what do you mean? he said. i mean, i replied, that there appear to be as many forms of the soul as there are distinct forms of the state. how many? there are five of the state, and five of the soul, i said. what are they? the first, i said, is that which we have been describing, and which may be said to have two names, monarchy and aristocracy, accordingly as rule is exercised by one distinguished man or by many. true, he replied. but i regard the two names as describing one form only; for whether the government is in the hands of one or many, if the governors have been trained in the manner which we have supposed, the fundamental laws of the state will be maintained. that is true, he replied. book v. such is the good and true city or state, and the good and true man is of the same pattern; and if this is right every other is wrong; and the evil is one which affects not only the ordering of the state, but also the regulation of the individual soul, and is exhibited in four forms. what are they? he said. i was proceeding to tell the order in which the four evil forms appeared to me to succeed one another, when polemarchus, who was sitting a little way off, just beyond adeimantus, began to whisper to him: stretching forth his hand, he took hold of the upper part of his coat by the shoulder, and drew him towards him, leaning forward himself so as to be quite close and saying something in his ear, of which i only caught the words, 'shall we let him off, or what shall we do?' certainly not, said adeimantus, raising his voice. who is it, i said, whom you are refusing to let off? you, he said. i repeated, why am i especially not to be let off? why, he said, we think that you are lazy, and mean to cheat us out of a whole chapter which is a very important part of the story; and you fancy that we shall not notice your airy way of proceeding; as if it were self-evident to everybody, that in the matter of women and children 'friends have all things in common.' and was i not right, adeimantus? yes, he said; but what is right in this particular case, like everything else, requires to be explained; for community may be of many kinds. please, therefore, to say what sort of community you mean. we have been long expecting that you would tell us something about the family life of your citizens--how they will bring children into the world, and rear them when they have arrived, and, in general, what is the nature of this community of women and children--for we are of opinion that the right or wrong management of such matters will have a great and paramount influence on the state for good or for evil. and now, since the question is still undetermined, and you are taking in hand another state, we have resolved, as you heard, not to let you go until you give an account of all this. to that resolution, said glaucon, you may regard me as saying agreed. and without more ado, said thrasymachus, you may consider us all to be equally agreed. i said, you know not what you are doing in thus assailing me: what an argument are you raising about the state! just as i thought that i had finished, and was only too glad that i had laid this question to sleep, and was reflecting how fortunate i was in your acceptance of what i then said, you ask me to begin again at the very foundation, ignorant of what a hornet's nest of words you are stirring. now i foresaw this gathering trouble, and avoided it. for what purpose do you conceive that we have come here, said thrasymachus,--to look for gold, or to hear discourse? yes, but discourse should have a limit. yes, socrates, said glaucon, and the whole of life is the only limit which wise men assign to the hearing of such discourses. but never mind about us; take heart yourself and answer the question in your own way: what sort of community of women and children is this which is to prevail among our guardians? and how shall we manage the period between birth and education, which seems to require the greatest care? tell us how these things will be. yes, my simple friend, but the answer is the reverse of easy; many more doubts arise about this than about our previous conclusions. for the practicability of what is said may be doubted; and looked at in another point of view, whether the scheme, if ever so practicable, would be for the best, is also doubtful. hence i feel a reluctance to approach the subject, lest our aspiration, my dear friend, should turn out to be a dream only. fear not, he replied, for your audience will not be hard upon you; they are not sceptical or hostile. i said: my good friend, i suppose that you mean to encourage me by these words. yes, he said. then let me tell you that you are doing just the reverse; the encouragement which you offer would have been all very well had i myself believed that i knew what i was talking about: to declare the truth about matters of high interest which a man honours and loves among wise men who love him need occasion no fear or faltering in his mind; but to carry on an argument when you are yourself only a hesitating enquirer, which is my condition, is a dangerous and slippery thing; and the danger is not that i shall be laughed at (of which the fear would be childish), but that i shall miss the truth where i have most need to be sure of my footing, and drag my friends after me in my fall. and i pray nemesis not to visit upon me the words which i am going to utter. for i do indeed believe that to be an involuntary homicide is a less crime than to be a deceiver about beauty or goodness or justice in the matter of laws. and that is a risk which i would rather run among enemies than among friends, and therefore you do well to encourage me. glaucon laughed and said: well then, socrates, in case you and your argument do us any serious injury you shall be acquitted beforehand of the homicide, and shall not be held to be a deceiver; take courage then and speak. well, i said, the law says that when a man is acquitted he is free from guilt, and what holds at law may hold in argument. then why should you mind? well, i replied, i suppose that i must retrace my steps and say what i perhaps ought to have said before in the proper place. the part of the men has been played out, and now properly enough comes the turn of the women. of them i will proceed to speak, and the more readily since i am invited by you. for men born and educated like our citizens, the only way, in my opinion, of arriving at a right conclusion about the possession and use of women and children is to follow the path on which we originally started, when we said that the men were to be the guardians and watchdogs of the herd. true. let us further suppose the birth and education of our women to be subject to similar or nearly similar regulations; then we shall see whether the result accords with our design. what do you mean? what i mean may be put into the form of a question, i said: are dogs divided into hes and shes, or do they both share equally in hunting and in keeping watch and in the other duties of dogs? or do we entrust to the males the entire and exclusive care of the flocks, while we leave the females at home, under the idea that the bearing and suckling their puppies is labour enough for them? no, he said, they share alike; the only difference between them is that the males are stronger and the females weaker. but can you use different animals for the same purpose, unless they are bred and fed in the same way? you cannot. then, if women are to have the same duties as men, they must have the same nurture and education? yes. the education which was assigned to the men was music and gymnastic. yes. then women must be taught music and gymnastic and also the art of war, which they must practise like the men? that is the inference, i suppose. i should rather expect, i said, that several of our proposals, if they are carried out, being unusual, may appear ridiculous. no doubt of it. yes, and the most ridiculous thing of all will be the sight of women naked in the palaestra, exercising with the men, especially when they are no longer young; they certainly will not be a vision of beauty, any more than the enthusiastic old men who in spite of wrinkles and ugliness continue to frequent the gymnasia. yes, indeed, he said: according to present notions the proposal would be thought ridiculous. but then, i said, as we have determined to speak our minds, we must not fear the jests of the wits which will be directed against this sort of innovation; how they will talk of women's attainments both in music and gymnastic, and above all about their wearing armour and riding upon horseback! very true, he replied. yet having begun we must go forward to the rough places of the law; at the same time begging of these gentlemen for once in their life to be serious. not long ago, as we shall remind them, the hellenes were of the opinion, which is still generally received among the barbarians, that the sight of a naked man was ridiculous and improper; and when first the cretans and then the lacedaemonians introduced the custom, the wits of that day might equally have ridiculed the innovation. no doubt. but when experience showed that to let all things be uncovered was far better than to cover them up, and the ludicrous effect to the outward eye vanished before the better principle which reason asserted, then the man was perceived to be a fool who directs the shafts of his ridicule at any other sight but that of folly and vice, or seriously inclines to weigh the beautiful by any other standard but that of the good. very true, he replied. first, then, whether the question is to be put in jest or in earnest, let us come to an understanding about the nature of woman: is she capable of sharing either wholly or partially in the actions of men, or not at all? and is the art of war one of those arts in which she can or can not share? that will be the best way of commencing the enquiry, and will probably lead to the fairest conclusion. that will be much the best way. shall we take the other side first and begin by arguing against ourselves; in this manner the adversary's position will not be undefended. why not? he said. then let us put a speech into the mouths of our opponents. they will say: 'socrates and glaucon, no adversary need convict you, for you yourselves, at the first foundation of the state, admitted the principle that everybody was to do the one work suited to his own nature.' and certainly, if i am not mistaken, such an admission was made by us. 'and do not the natures of men and women differ very much indeed?' and we shall reply: of course they do. then we shall be asked, 'whether the tasks assigned to men and to women should not be different, and such as are agreeable to their different natures?' certainly they should. 'but if so, have you not fallen into a serious inconsistency in saying that men and women, whose natures are so entirely different, ought to perform the same actions?'--what defence will you make for us, my good sir, against any one who offers these objections? that is not an easy question to answer when asked suddenly; and i shall and i do beg of you to draw out the case on our side. these are the objections, glaucon, and there are many others of a like kind, which i foresaw long ago; they made me afraid and reluctant to take in hand any law about the possession and nurture of women and children. by zeus, he said, the problem to be solved is anything but easy. why yes, i said, but the fact is that when a man is out of his depth, whether he has fallen into a little swimming bath or into mid ocean, he has to swim all the same. very true. and must not we swim and try to reach the shore: we will hope that arion's dolphin or some other miraculous help may save us? i suppose so, he said. well then, let us see if any way of escape can be found. we acknowledged--did we not? that different natures ought to have different pursuits, and that men's and women's natures are different. and now what are we saying?--that different natures ought to have the same pursuits,--this is the inconsistency which is charged upon us. precisely. verily, glaucon, i said, glorious is the power of the art of contradiction! why do you say so? because i think that many a man falls into the practice against his will. when he thinks that he is reasoning he is really disputing, just because he cannot define and divide, and so know that of which he is speaking; and he will pursue a merely verbal opposition in the spirit of contention and not of fair discussion. yes, he replied, such is very often the case; but what has that to do with us and our argument? a great deal; for there is certainly a danger of our getting unintentionally into a verbal opposition. in what way? why we valiantly and pugnaciously insist upon the verbal truth, that different natures ought to have different pursuits, but we never considered at all what was the meaning of sameness or difference of nature, or why we distinguished them when we assigned different pursuits to different natures and the same to the same natures. why, no, he said, that was never considered by us. i said: suppose that by way of illustration we were to ask the question whether there is not an opposition in nature between bald men and hairy men; and if this is admitted by us, then, if bald men are cobblers, we should forbid the hairy men to be cobblers, and conversely? that would be a jest, he said. yes, i said, a jest; and why? because we never meant when we constructed the state, that the opposition of natures should extend to every difference, but only to those differences which affected the pursuit in which the individual is engaged; we should have argued, for example, that a physician and one who is in mind a physician may be said to have the same nature. true. whereas the physician and the carpenter have different natures? certainly. and if, i said, the male and female sex appear to differ in their fitness for any art or pursuit, we should say that such pursuit or art ought to be assigned to one or the other of them; but if the difference consists only in women bearing and men begetting children, this does not amount to a proof that a woman differs from a man in respect of the sort of education she should receive; and we shall therefore continue to maintain that our guardians and their wives ought to have the same pursuits. very true, he said. next, we shall ask our opponent how, in reference to any of the pursuits or arts of civic life, the nature of a woman differs from that of a man? that will be quite fair. and perhaps he, like yourself, will reply that to give a sufficient answer on the instant is not easy; but after a little reflection there is no difficulty. yes, perhaps. suppose then that we invite him to accompany us in the argument, and then we may hope to show him that there is nothing peculiar in the constitution of women which would affect them in the administration of the state. by all means. let us say to him: come now, and we will ask you a question:--when you spoke of a nature gifted or not gifted in any respect, did you mean to say that one man will acquire a thing easily, another with difficulty; a little learning will lead the one to discover a great deal; whereas the other, after much study and application, no sooner learns than he forgets; or again, did you mean, that the one has a body which is a good servant to his mind, while the body of the other is a hindrance to him?--would not these be the sort of differences which distinguish the man gifted by nature from the one who is ungifted? no one will deny that. and can you mention any pursuit of mankind in which the male sex has not all these gifts and qualities in a higher degree than the female? need i waste time in speaking of the art of weaving, and the management of pancakes and preserves, in which womankind does really appear to be great, and in which for her to be beaten by a man is of all things the most absurd? you are quite right, he replied, in maintaining the general inferiority of the female sex: although many women are in many things superior to many men, yet on the whole what you say is true. and if so, my friend, i said, there is no special faculty of administration in a state which a woman has because she is a woman, or which a man has by virtue of his sex, but the gifts of nature are alike diffused in both; all the pursuits of men are the pursuits of women also, but in all of them a woman is inferior to a man. very true. then are we to impose all our enactments on men and none of them on women? that will never do. one woman has a gift of healing, another not; one is a musician, and another has no music in her nature? very true. and one woman has a turn for gymnastic and military exercises, and another is unwarlike and hates gymnastics? certainly. and one woman is a philosopher, and another is an enemy of philosophy; one has spirit, and another is without spirit? that is also true. then one woman will have the temper of a guardian, and another not. was not the selection of the male guardians determined by differences of this sort? yes. men and women alike possess the qualities which make a guardian; they differ only in their comparative strength or weakness. obviously. and those women who have such qualities are to be selected as the companions and colleagues of men who have similar qualities and whom they resemble in capacity and in character? very true. and ought not the same natures to have the same pursuits? they ought. then, as we were saying before, there is nothing unnatural in assigning music and gymnastic to the wives of the guardians--to that point we come round again. certainly not. the law which we then enacted was agreeable to nature, and therefore not an impossibility or mere aspiration; and the contrary practice, which prevails at present, is in reality a violation of nature. that appears to be true. we had to consider, first, whether our proposals were possible, and secondly whether they were the most beneficial? yes. and the possibility has been acknowledged? yes. the very great benefit has next to be established? quite so. you will admit that the same education which makes a man a good guardian will make a woman a good guardian; for their original nature is the same? yes. i should like to ask you a question. what is it? would you say that all men are equal in excellence, or is one man better than another? the latter. and in the commonwealth which we were founding do you conceive the guardians who have been brought up on our model system to be more perfect men, or the cobblers whose education has been cobbling? what a ridiculous question! you have answered me, i replied: well, and may we not further say that our guardians are the best of our citizens? by far the best. and will not their wives be the best women? yes, by far the best. and can there be anything better for the interests of the state than that the men and women of a state should be as good as possible? there can be nothing better. and this is what the arts of music and gymnastic, when present in such manner as we have described, will accomplish? certainly. then we have made an enactment not only possible but in the highest degree beneficial to the state? true. then let the wives of our guardians strip, for their virtue will be their robe, and let them share in the toils of war and the defence of their country; only in the distribution of labours the lighter are to be assigned to the women, who are the weaker natures, but in other respects their duties are to be the same. and as for the man who laughs at naked women exercising their bodies from the best of motives, in his laughter he is plucking 'a fruit of unripe wisdom,' and he himself is ignorant of what he is laughing at, or what he is about;--for that is, and ever will be, the best of sayings, that the useful is the noble and the hurtful is the base. very true. here, then, is one difficulty in our law about women, which we may say that we have now escaped; the wave has not swallowed us up alive for enacting that the guardians of either sex should have all their pursuits in common; to the utility and also to the possibility of this arrangement the consistency of the argument with itself bears witness. yes, that was a mighty wave which you have escaped. yes, i said, but a greater is coming; you will not think much of this when you see the next. go on; let me see. the law, i said, which is the sequel of this and of all that has preceded, is to the following effect,--'that the wives of our guardians are to be common, and their children are to be common, and no parent is to know his own child, nor any child his parent.' yes, he said, that is a much greater wave than the other; and the possibility as well as the utility of such a law are far more questionable. i do not think, i said, that there can be any dispute about the very great utility of having wives and children in common; the possibility is quite another matter, and will be very much disputed. i think that a good many doubts may be raised about both. you imply that the two questions must be combined, i replied. now i meant that you should admit the utility; and in this way, as i thought, i should escape from one of them, and then there would remain only the possibility. but that little attempt is detected, and therefore you will please to give a defence of both. well, i said, i submit to my fate. yet grant me a little favour: let me feast my mind with the dream as day dreamers are in the habit of feasting themselves when they are walking alone; for before they have discovered any means of effecting their wishes--that is a matter which never troubles them--they would rather not tire themselves by thinking about possibilities; but assuming that what they desire is already granted to them, they proceed with their plan, and delight in detailing what they mean to do when their wish has come true--that is a way which they have of not doing much good to a capacity which was never good for much. now i myself am beginning to lose heart, and i should like, with your permission, to pass over the question of possibility at present. assuming therefore the possibility of the proposal, i shall now proceed to enquire how the rulers will carry out these arrangements, and i shall demonstrate that our plan, if executed, will be of the greatest benefit to the state and to the guardians. first of all, then, if you have no objection, i will endeavour with your help to consider the advantages of the measure; and hereafter the question of possibility. i have no objection; proceed. first, i think that if our rulers and their auxiliaries are to be worthy of the name which they bear, there must be willingness to obey in the one and the power of command in the other; the guardians must themselves obey the laws, and they must also imitate the spirit of them in any details which are entrusted to their care. that is right, he said. you, i said, who are their legislator, having selected the men, will now select the women and give them to them;--they must be as far as possible of like natures with them; and they must live in common houses and meet at common meals. none of them will have anything specially his or her own; they will be together, and will be brought up together, and will associate at gymnastic exercises. and so they will be drawn by a necessity of their natures to have intercourse with each other--necessity is not too strong a word, i think? yes, he said;--necessity, not geometrical, but another sort of necessity which lovers know, and which is far more convincing and constraining to the mass of mankind. true, i said; and this, glaucon, like all the rest, must proceed after an orderly fashion; in a city of the blessed, licentiousness is an unholy thing which the rulers will forbid. yes, he said, and it ought not to be permitted. then clearly the next thing will be to make matrimony sacred in the highest degree, and what is most beneficial will be deemed sacred? exactly. and how can marriages be made most beneficial?--that is a question which i put to you, because i see in your house dogs for hunting, and of the nobler sort of birds not a few. now, i beseech you, do tell me, have you ever attended to their pairing and breeding? in what particulars? why, in the first place, although they are all of a good sort, are not some better than others? true. and do you breed from them all indifferently, or do you take care to breed from the best only? from the best. and do you take the oldest or the youngest, or only those of ripe age? i choose only those of ripe age. and if care was not taken in the breeding, your dogs and birds would greatly deteriorate? certainly. and the same of horses and animals in general? undoubtedly. good heavens! my dear friend, i said, what consummate skill will our rulers need if the same principle holds of the human species! certainly, the same principle holds; but why does this involve any particular skill? because, i said, our rulers will often have to practise upon the body corporate with medicines. now you know that when patients do not require medicines, but have only to be put under a regimen, the inferior sort of practitioner is deemed to be good enough; but when medicine has to be given, then the doctor should be more of a man. that is quite true, he said; but to what are you alluding? i mean, i replied, that our rulers will find a considerable dose of falsehood and deceit necessary for the good of their subjects: we were saying that the use of all these things regarded as medicines might be of advantage. and we were very right. and this lawful use of them seems likely to be often needed in the regulations of marriages and births. how so? why, i said, the principle has been already laid down that the best of either sex should be united with the best as often, and the inferior with the inferior, as seldom as possible; and that they should rear the offspring of the one sort of union, but not of the other, if the flock is to be maintained in first-rate condition. now these goings on must be a secret which the rulers only know, or there will be a further danger of our herd, as the guardians may be termed, breaking out into rebellion. very true. had we not better appoint certain festivals at which we will bring together the brides and bridegrooms, and sacrifices will be offered and suitable hymeneal songs composed by our poets: the number of weddings is a matter which must be left to the discretion of the rulers, whose aim will be to preserve the average of population? there are many other things which they will have to consider, such as the effects of wars and diseases and any similar agencies, in order as far as this is possible to prevent the state from becoming either too large or too small. certainly, he replied. we shall have to invent some ingenious kind of lots which the less worthy may draw on each occasion of our bringing them together, and then they will accuse their own ill-luck and not the rulers. to be sure, he said. and i think that our braver and better youth, besides their other honours and rewards, might have greater facilities of intercourse with women given them; their bravery will be a reason, and such fathers ought to have as many sons as possible. true. and the proper officers, whether male or female or both, for offices are to be held by women as well as by men-- yes-- the proper officers will take the offspring of the good parents to the pen or fold, and there they will deposit them with certain nurses who dwell in a separate quarter; but the offspring of the inferior, or of the better when they chance to be deformed, will be put away in some mysterious, unknown place, as they should be. yes, he said, that must be done if the breed of the guardians is to be kept pure. they will provide for their nurture, and will bring the mothers to the fold when they are full of milk, taking the greatest possible care that no mother recognises her own child; and other wet-nurses may be engaged if more are required. care will also be taken that the process of suckling shall not be protracted too long; and the mothers will have no getting up at night or other trouble, but will hand over all this sort of thing to the nurses and attendants. you suppose the wives of our guardians to have a fine easy time of it when they are having children. why, said i, and so they ought. let us, however, proceed with our scheme. we were saying that the parents should be in the prime of life? very true. and what is the prime of life? may it not be defined as a period of about twenty years in a woman's life, and thirty in a man's? which years do you mean to include? a woman, i said, at twenty years of age may begin to bear children to the state, and continue to bear them until forty; a man may begin at five-and-twenty, when he has passed the point at which the pulse of life beats quickest, and continue to beget children until he be fifty-five. certainly, he said, both in men and women those years are the prime of physical as well as of intellectual vigour. any one above or below the prescribed ages who takes part in the public hymeneals shall be said to have done an unholy and unrighteous thing; the child of which he is the father, if it steals into life, will have been conceived under auspices very unlike the sacrifices and prayers, which at each hymeneal priestesses and priest and the whole city will offer, that the new generation may be better and more useful than their good and useful parents, whereas his child will be the offspring of darkness and strange lust. very true, he replied. and the same law will apply to any one of those within the prescribed age who forms a connection with any woman in the prime of life without the sanction of the rulers; for we shall say that he is raising up a bastard to the state, uncertified and unconsecrated. very true, he replied. this applies, however, only to those who are within the specified age: after that we allow them to range at will, except that a man may not marry his daughter or his daughter's daughter, or his mother or his mother's mother; and women, on the other hand, are prohibited from marrying their sons or fathers, or son's son or father's father, and so on in either direction. and we grant all this, accompanying the permission with strict orders to prevent any embryo which may come into being from seeing the light; and if any force a way to the birth, the parents must understand that the offspring of such an union cannot be maintained, and arrange accordingly. that also, he said, is a reasonable proposition. but how will they know who are fathers and daughters, and so on? they will never know. the way will be this:--dating from the day of the hymeneal, the bridegroom who was then married will call all the male children who are born in the seventh and tenth month afterwards his sons, and the female children his daughters, and they will call him father, and he will call their children his grandchildren, and they will call the elder generation grandfathers and grandmothers. all who were begotten at the time when their fathers and mothers came together will be called their brothers and sisters, and these, as i was saying, will be forbidden to inter-marry. this, however, is not to be understood as an absolute prohibition of the marriage of brothers and sisters; if the lot favours them, and they receive the sanction of the pythian oracle, the law will allow them. quite right, he replied. such is the scheme, glaucon, according to which the guardians of our state are to have their wives and families in common. and now you would have the argument show that this community is consistent with the rest of our polity, and also that nothing can be better--would you not? yes, certainly. shall we try to find a common basis by asking of ourselves what ought to be the chief aim of the legislator in making laws and in the organization of a state,--what is the greatest good, and what is the greatest evil, and then consider whether our previous description has the stamp of the good or of the evil? by all means. can there be any greater evil than discord and distraction and plurality where unity ought to reign? or any greater good than the bond of unity? there cannot. and there is unity where there is community of pleasures and pains--where all the citizens are glad or grieved on the same occasions of joy and sorrow? no doubt. yes; and where there is no common but only private feeling a state is disorganized--when you have one half of the world triumphing and the other plunged in grief at the same events happening to the city or the citizens? certainly. such differences commonly originate in a disagreement about the use of the terms 'mine' and 'not mine,' 'his' and 'not his.' exactly so. and is not that the best-ordered state in which the greatest number of persons apply the terms 'mine' and 'not mine' in the same way to the same thing? quite true. or that again which most nearly approaches to the condition of the individual--as in the body, when but a finger of one of us is hurt, the whole frame, drawn towards the soul as a centre and forming one kingdom under the ruling power therein, feels the hurt and sympathizes all together with the part affected, and we say that the man has a pain in his finger; and the same expression is used about any other part of the body, which has a sensation of pain at suffering or of pleasure at the alleviation of suffering. very true, he replied; and i agree with you that in the best-ordered state there is the nearest approach to this common feeling which you describe. then when any one of the citizens experiences any good or evil, the whole state will make his case their own, and will either rejoice or sorrow with him? yes, he said, that is what will happen in a well-ordered state. it will now be time, i said, for us to return to our state and see whether this or some other form is most in accordance with these fundamental principles. very good. our state like every other has rulers and subjects? true. all of whom will call one another citizens? of course. but is there not another name which people give to their rulers in other states? generally they call them masters, but in democratic states they simply call them rulers. and in our state what other name besides that of citizens do the people give the rulers? they are called saviours and helpers, he replied. and what do the rulers call the people? their maintainers and foster-fathers. and what do they call them in other states? slaves. and what do the rulers call one another in other states? fellow-rulers. and what in ours? fellow-guardians. did you ever know an example in any other state of a ruler who would speak of one of his colleagues as his friend and of another as not being his friend? yes, very often. and the friend he regards and describes as one in whom he has an interest, and the other as a stranger in whom he has no interest? exactly. but would any of your guardians think or speak of any other guardian as a stranger? certainly he would not; for every one whom they meet will be regarded by them either as a brother or sister, or father or mother, or son or daughter, or as the child or parent of those who are thus connected with him. capital, i said; but let me ask you once more: shall they be a family in name only; or shall they in all their actions be true to the name? for example, in the use of the word 'father,' would the care of a father be implied and the filial reverence and duty and obedience to him which the law commands; and is the violator of these duties to be regarded as an impious and unrighteous person who is not likely to receive much good either at the hands of god or of man? are these to be or not to be the strains which the children will hear repeated in their ears by all the citizens about those who are intimated to them to be their parents and the rest of their kinsfolk? these, he said, and none other; for what can be more ridiculous than for them to utter the names of family ties with the lips only and not to act in the spirit of them? then in our city the language of harmony and concord will be more often heard than in any other. as i was describing before, when any one is well or ill, the universal word will be 'with me it is well' or 'it is ill.' most true. and agreeably to this mode of thinking and speaking, were we not saying that they will have their pleasures and pains in common? yes, and so they will. and they will have a common interest in the same thing which they will alike call 'my own,' and having this common interest they will have a common feeling of pleasure and pain? yes, far more so than in other states. and the reason of this, over and above the general constitution of the state, will be that the guardians will have a community of women and children? that will be the chief reason. and this unity of feeling we admitted to be the greatest good, as was implied in our own comparison of a well-ordered state to the relation of the body and the members, when affected by pleasure or pain? that we acknowledged, and very rightly. then the community of wives and children among our citizens is clearly the source of the greatest good to the state? certainly. and this agrees with the other principle which we were affirming,--that the guardians were not to have houses or lands or any other property; their pay was to be their food, which they were to receive from the other citizens, and they were to have no private expenses; for we intended them to preserve their true character of guardians. right, he replied. both the community of property and the community of families, as i am saying, tend to make them more truly guardians; they will not tear the city in pieces by differing about 'mine' and 'not mine;' each man dragging any acquisition which he has made into a separate house of his own, where he has a separate wife and children and private pleasures and pains; but all will be affected as far as may be by the same pleasures and pains because they are all of one opinion about what is near and dear to them, and therefore they all tend towards a common end. certainly, he replied. and as they have nothing but their persons which they can call their own, suits and complaints will have no existence among them; they will be delivered from all those quarrels of which money or children or relations are the occasion. of course they will. neither will trials for assault or insult ever be likely to occur among them. for that equals should defend themselves against equals we shall maintain to be honourable and right; we shall make the protection of the person a matter of necessity. that is good, he said. yes; and there is a further good in the law; viz. that if a man has a quarrel with another he will satisfy his resentment then and there, and not proceed to more dangerous lengths. certainly. to the elder shall be assigned the duty of ruling and chastising the younger. clearly. nor can there be a doubt that the younger will not strike or do any other violence to an elder, unless the magistrates command him; nor will he slight him in any way. for there are two guardians, shame and fear, mighty to prevent him: shame, which makes men refrain from laying hands on those who are to them in the relation of parents; fear, that the injured one will be succoured by the others who are his brothers, sons, fathers. that is true, he replied. then in every way the laws will help the citizens to keep the peace with one another? yes, there will be no want of peace. and as the guardians will never quarrel among themselves there will be no danger of the rest of the city being divided either against them or against one another. none whatever. i hardly like even to mention the little meannesses of which they will be rid, for they are beneath notice: such, for example, as the flattery of the rich by the poor, and all the pains and pangs which men experience in bringing up a family, and in finding money to buy necessaries for their household, borrowing and then repudiating, getting how they can, and giving the money into the hands of women and slaves to keep--the many evils of so many kinds which people suffer in this way are mean enough and obvious enough, and not worth speaking of. yes, he said, a man has no need of eyes in order to perceive that. and from all these evils they will be delivered, and their life will be blessed as the life of olympic victors and yet more blessed. how so? the olympic victor, i said, is deemed happy in receiving a part only of the blessedness which is secured to our citizens, who have won a more glorious victory and have a more complete maintenance at the public cost. for the victory which they have won is the salvation of the whole state; and the crown with which they and their children are crowned is the fulness of all that life needs; they receive rewards from the hands of their country while living, and after death have an honourable burial. yes, he said, and glorious rewards they are. do you remember, i said, how in the course of the previous discussion some one who shall be nameless accused us of making our guardians unhappy--they had nothing and might have possessed all things--to whom we replied that, if an occasion offered, we might perhaps hereafter consider this question, but that, as at present advised, we would make our guardians truly guardians, and that we were fashioning the state with a view to the greatest happiness, not of any particular class, but of the whole? yes, i remember. and what do you say, now that the life of our protectors is made out to be far better and nobler than that of olympic victors--is the life of shoemakers, or any other artisans, or of husbandmen, to be compared with it? certainly not. at the same time i ought here to repeat what i have said elsewhere, that if any of our guardians shall try to be happy in such a manner that he will cease to be a guardian, and is not content with this safe and harmonious life, which, in our judgment, is of all lives the best, but infatuated by some youthful conceit of happiness which gets up into his head shall seek to appropriate the whole state to himself, then he will have to learn how wisely hesiod spoke, when he said, 'half is more than the whole.' if he were to consult me, i should say to him: stay where you are, when you have the offer of such a life. you agree then, i said, that men and women are to have a common way of life such as we have described--common education, common children; and they are to watch over the citizens in common whether abiding in the city or going out to war; they are to keep watch together, and to hunt together like dogs; and always and in all things, as far as they are able, women are to share with the men? and in so doing they will do what is best, and will not violate, but preserve the natural relation of the sexes. i agree with you, he replied. the enquiry, i said, has yet to be made, whether such a community be found possible--as among other animals, so also among men--and if possible, in what way possible? you have anticipated the question which i was about to suggest. there is no difficulty, i said, in seeing how war will be carried on by them. how? why, of course they will go on expeditions together; and will take with them any of their children who are strong enough, that, after the manner of the artisan's child, they may look on at the work which they will have to do when they are grown up; and besides looking on they will have to help and be of use in war, and to wait upon their fathers and mothers. did you never observe in the arts how the potters' boys look on and help, long before they touch the wheel? yes, i have. and shall potters be more careful in educating their children and in giving them the opportunity of seeing and practising their duties than our guardians will be? the idea is ridiculous, he said. there is also the effect on the parents, with whom, as with other animals, the presence of their young ones will be the greatest incentive to valour. that is quite true, socrates; and yet if they are defeated, which may often happen in war, how great the danger is! the children will be lost as well as their parents, and the state will never recover. true, i said; but would you never allow them to run any risk? i am far from saying that. well, but if they are ever to run a risk should they not do so on some occasion when, if they escape disaster, they will be the better for it? clearly. whether the future soldiers do or do not see war in the days of their youth is a very important matter, for the sake of which some risk may fairly be incurred. yes, very important. this then must be our first step,--to make our children spectators of war; but we must also contrive that they shall be secured against danger; then all will be well. true. their parents may be supposed not to be blind to the risks of war, but to know, as far as human foresight can, what expeditions are safe and what dangerous? that may be assumed. and they will take them on the safe expeditions and be cautious about the dangerous ones? true. and they will place them under the command of experienced veterans who will be their leaders and teachers? very properly. still, the dangers of war cannot be always foreseen; there is a good deal of chance about them? true. then against such chances the children must be at once furnished with wings, in order that in the hour of need they may fly away and escape. what do you mean? he said. i mean that we must mount them on horses in their earliest youth, and when they have learnt to ride, take them on horseback to see war: the horses must not be spirited and warlike, but the most tractable and yet the swiftest that can be had. in this way they will get an excellent view of what is hereafter to be their own business; and if there is danger they have only to follow their elder leaders and escape. i believe that you are right, he said. next, as to war; what are to be the relations of your soldiers to one another and to their enemies? i should be inclined to propose that the soldier who leaves his rank or throws away his arms, or is guilty of any other act of cowardice, should be degraded into the rank of a husbandman or artisan. what do you think? by all means, i should say. and he who allows himself to be taken prisoner may as well be made a present of to his enemies; he is their lawful prey, and let them do what they like with him. certainly. but the hero who has distinguished himself, what shall be done to him? in the first place, he shall receive honour in the army from his youthful comrades; every one of them in succession shall crown him. what do you say? i approve. and what do you say to his receiving the right hand of fellowship? to that too, i agree. but you will hardly agree to my next proposal. what is your proposal? that he should kiss and be kissed by them. most certainly, and i should be disposed to go further, and say: let no one whom he has a mind to kiss refuse to be kissed by him while the expedition lasts. so that if there be a lover in the army, whether his love be youth or maiden, he may be more eager to win the prize of valour. capital, i said. that the brave man is to have more wives than others has been already determined: and he is to have first choices in such matters more than others, in order that he may have as many children as possible? agreed. again, there is another manner in which, according to homer, brave youths should be honoured; for he tells how ajax, after he had distinguished himself in battle, was rewarded with long chines, which seems to be a compliment appropriate to a hero in the flower of his age, being not only a tribute of honour but also a very strengthening thing. most true, he said. then in this, i said, homer shall be our teacher; and we too, at sacrifices and on the like occasions, will honour the brave according to the measure of their valour, whether men or women, with hymns and those other distinctions which we were mentioning; also with 'seats of precedence, and meats and full cups;' and in honouring them, we shall be at the same time training them. that, he replied, is excellent. yes, i said; and when a man dies gloriously in war shall we not say, in the first place, that he is of the golden race? to be sure. nay, have we not the authority of hesiod for affirming that when they are dead 'they are holy angels upon the earth, authors of good, averters of evil, the guardians of speech-gifted men'? yes; and we accept his authority. we must learn of the god how we are to order the sepulture of divine and heroic personages, and what is to be their special distinction; and we must do as he bids? by all means. and in ages to come we will reverence them and kneel before their sepulchres as at the graves of heroes. and not only they but any who are deemed pre-eminently good, whether they die from age, or in any other way, shall be admitted to the same honours. that is very right, he said. next, how shall our soldiers treat their enemies? what about this? in what respect do you mean? first of all, in regard to slavery? do you think it right that hellenes should enslave hellenic states, or allow others to enslave them, if they can help? should not their custom be to spare them, considering the danger which there is that the whole race may one day fall under the yoke of the barbarians? to spare them is infinitely better. then no hellene should be owned by them as a slave; that is a rule which they will observe and advise the other hellenes to observe. certainly, he said; they will in this way be united against the barbarians and will keep their hands off one another. next as to the slain; ought the conquerors, i said, to take anything but their armour? does not the practice of despoiling an enemy afford an excuse for not facing the battle? cowards skulk about the dead, pretending that they are fulfilling a duty, and many an army before now has been lost from this love of plunder. very true. and is there not illiberality and avarice in robbing a corpse, and also a degree of meanness and womanishness in making an enemy of the dead body when the real enemy has flown away and left only his fighting gear behind him,--is not this rather like a dog who cannot get at his assailant, quarrelling with the stones which strike him instead? very like a dog, he said. then we must abstain from spoiling the dead or hindering their burial? yes, he replied, we most certainly must. neither shall we offer up arms at the temples of the gods, least of all the arms of hellenes, if we care to maintain good feeling with other hellenes; and, indeed, we have reason to fear that the offering of spoils taken from kinsmen may be a pollution unless commanded by the god himself? very true. again, as to the devastation of hellenic territory or the burning of houses, what is to be the practice? may i have the pleasure, he said, of hearing your opinion? both should be forbidden, in my judgment; i would take the annual produce and no more. shall i tell you why? pray do. why, you see, there is a difference in the names 'discord' and 'war,' and i imagine that there is also a difference in their natures; the one is expressive of what is internal and domestic, the other of what is external and foreign; and the first of the two is termed discord, and only the second, war. that is a very proper distinction, he replied. and may i not observe with equal propriety that the hellenic race is all united together by ties of blood and friendship, and alien and strange to the barbarians? very good, he said. and therefore when hellenes fight with barbarians and barbarians with hellenes, they will be described by us as being at war when they fight, and by nature enemies, and this kind of antagonism should be called war; but when hellenes fight with one another we shall say that hellas is then in a state of disorder and discord, they being by nature friends; and such enmity is to be called discord. i agree. consider then, i said, when that which we have acknowledged to be discord occurs, and a city is divided, if both parties destroy the lands and burn the houses of one another, how wicked does the strife appear! no true lover of his country would bring himself to tear in pieces his own nurse and mother: there might be reason in the conqueror depriving the conquered of their harvest, but still they would have the idea of peace in their hearts and would not mean to go on fighting for ever. yes, he said, that is a better temper than the other. and will not the city, which you are founding, be an hellenic city? it ought to be, he replied. then will not the citizens be good and civilized? yes, very civilized. and will they not be lovers of hellas, and think of hellas as their own land, and share in the common temples? most certainly. and any difference which arises among them will be regarded by them as discord only--a quarrel among friends, which is not to be called a war? certainly not. then they will quarrel as those who intend some day to be reconciled? certainly. they will use friendly correction, but will not enslave or destroy their opponents; they will be correctors, not enemies? just so. and as they are hellenes themselves they will not devastate hellas, nor will they burn houses, nor ever suppose that the whole population of a city--men, women, and children--are equally their enemies, for they know that the guilt of war is always confined to a few persons and that the many are their friends. and for all these reasons they will be unwilling to waste their lands and rase their houses; their enmity to them will only last until the many innocent sufferers have compelled the guilty few to give satisfaction? i agree, he said, that our citizens should thus deal with their hellenic enemies; and with barbarians as the hellenes now deal with one another. then let us enact this law also for our guardians:--that they are neither to devastate the lands of hellenes nor to burn their houses. agreed; and we may agree also in thinking that these, like all our previous enactments, are very good. but still i must say, socrates, that if you are allowed to go on in this way you will entirely forget the other question which at the commencement of this discussion you thrust aside:--is such an order of things possible, and how, if at all? for i am quite ready to acknowledge that the plan which you propose, if only feasible, would do all sorts of good to the state. i will add, what you have omitted, that your citizens will be the bravest of warriors, and will never leave their ranks, for they will all know one another, and each will call the other father, brother, son; and if you suppose the women to join their armies, whether in the same rank or in the rear, either as a terror to the enemy, or as auxiliaries in case of need, i know that they will then be absolutely invincible; and there are many domestic advantages which might also be mentioned and which i also fully acknowledge: but, as i admit all these advantages and as many more as you please, if only this state of yours were to come into existence, we need say no more about them; assuming then the existence of the state, let us now turn to the question of possibility and ways and means--the rest may be left. if i loiter for a moment, you instantly make a raid upon me, i said, and have no mercy; i have hardly escaped the first and second waves, and you seem not to be aware that you are now bringing upon me the third, which is the greatest and heaviest. when you have seen and heard the third wave, i think you will be more considerate and will acknowledge that some fear and hesitation was natural respecting a proposal so extraordinary as that which i have now to state and investigate. the more appeals of this sort which you make, he said, the more determined are we that you shall tell us how such a state is possible: speak out and at once. let me begin by reminding you that we found our way hither in the search after justice and injustice. true, he replied; but what of that? i was only going to ask whether, if we have discovered them, we are to require that the just man should in nothing fail of absolute justice; or may we be satisfied with an approximation, and the attainment in him of a higher degree of justice than is to be found in other men? the approximation will be enough. we were enquiring into the nature of absolute justice and into the character of the perfectly just, and into injustice and the perfectly unjust, that we might have an ideal. we were to look at these in order that we might judge of our own happiness and unhappiness according to the standard which they exhibited and the degree in which we resembled them, but not with any view of showing that they could exist in fact. true, he said. would a painter be any the worse because, after having delineated with consummate art an ideal of a perfectly beautiful man, he was unable to show that any such man could ever have existed? he would be none the worse. well, and were we not creating an ideal of a perfect state? to be sure. and is our theory a worse theory because we are unable to prove the possibility of a city being ordered in the manner described? surely not, he replied. that is the truth, i said. but if, at your request, i am to try and show how and under what conditions the possibility is highest, i must ask you, having this in view, to repeat your former admissions. what admissions? i want to know whether ideals are ever fully realized in language? does not the word express more than the fact, and must not the actual, whatever a man may think, always, in the nature of things, fall short of the truth? what do you say? i agree. then you must not insist on my proving that the actual state will in every respect coincide with the ideal: if we are only able to discover how a city may be governed nearly as we proposed, you will admit that we have discovered the possibility which you demand; and will be contented. i am sure that i should be contented--will not you? yes, i will. let me next endeavour to show what is that fault in states which is the cause of their present maladministration, and what is the least change which will enable a state to pass into the truer form; and let the change, if possible, be of one thing only, or, if not, of two; at any rate, let the changes be as few and slight as possible. certainly, he replied. i think, i said, that there might be a reform of the state if only one change were made, which is not a slight or easy though still a possible one. what is it? he said. now then, i said, i go to meet that which i liken to the greatest of the waves; yet shall the word be spoken, even though the wave break and drown me in laughter and dishonour; and do you mark my words. proceed. i said: 'until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest from their evils,--nor the human race, as i believe,--and then only will this our state have a possibility of life and behold the light of day.' such was the thought, my dear glaucon, which i would fain have uttered if it had not seemed too extravagant; for to be convinced that in no other state can there be happiness private or public is indeed a hard thing. socrates, what do you mean? i would have you consider that the word which you have uttered is one at which numerous persons, and very respectable persons too, in a figure pulling off their coats all in a moment, and seizing any weapon that comes to hand, will run at you might and main, before you know where you are, intending to do heaven knows what; and if you don't prepare an answer, and put yourself in motion, you will be 'pared by their fine wits,' and no mistake. you got me into the scrape, i said. and i was quite right; however, i will do all i can to get you out of it; but i can only give you good-will and good advice, and, perhaps, i may be able to fit answers to your questions better than another--that is all. and now, having such an auxiliary, you must do your best to show the unbelievers that you are right. i ought to try, i said, since you offer me such invaluable assistance. and i think that, if there is to be a chance of our escaping, we must explain to them whom we mean when we say that philosophers are to rule in the state; then we shall be able to defend ourselves: there will be discovered to be some natures who ought to study philosophy and to be leaders in the state; and others who are not born to be philosophers, and are meant to be followers rather than leaders. then now for a definition, he said. follow me, i said, and i hope that i may in some way or other be able to give you a satisfactory explanation. proceed. i dare say that you remember, and therefore i need not remind you, that a lover, if he is worthy of the name, ought to show his love, not to some one part of that which he loves, but to the whole. i really do not understand, and therefore beg of you to assist my memory. another person, i said, might fairly reply as you do; but a man of pleasure like yourself ought to know that all who are in the flower of youth do somehow or other raise a pang or emotion in a lover's breast, and are thought by him to be worthy of his affectionate regards. is not this a way which you have with the fair: one has a snub nose, and you praise his charming face; the hook-nose of another has, you say, a royal look; while he who is neither snub nor hooked has the grace of regularity: the dark visage is manly, the fair are children of the gods; and as to the sweet 'honey pale,' as they are called, what is the very name but the invention of a lover who talks in diminutives, and is not averse to paleness if appearing on the cheek of youth? in a word, there is no excuse which you will not make, and nothing which you will not say, in order not to lose a single flower that blooms in the spring-time of youth. if you make me an authority in matters of love, for the sake of the argument, i assent. and what do you say of lovers of wine? do you not see them doing the same? they are glad of any pretext of drinking any wine. very good. and the same is true of ambitious men; if they cannot command an army, they are willing to command a file; and if they cannot be honoured by really great and important persons, they are glad to be honoured by lesser and meaner people,--but honour of some kind they must have. exactly. once more let me ask: does he who desires any class of goods, desire the whole class or a part only? the whole. and may we not say of the philosopher that he is a lover, not of a part of wisdom only, but of the whole? yes, of the whole. and he who dislikes learning, especially in youth, when he has no power of judging what is good and what is not, such an one we maintain not to be a philosopher or a lover of knowledge, just as he who refuses his food is not hungry, and may be said to have a bad appetite and not a good one? very true, he said. whereas he who has a taste for every sort of knowledge and who is curious to learn and is never satisfied, may be justly termed a philosopher? am i not right? glaucon said: if curiosity makes a philosopher, you will find many a strange being will have a title to the name. all the lovers of sights have a delight in learning, and must therefore be included. musical amateurs, too, are a folk strangely out of place among philosophers, for they are the last persons in the world who would come to anything like a philosophical discussion, if they could help, while they run about at the dionysiac festivals as if they had let out their ears to hear every chorus; whether the performance is in town or country--that makes no difference--they are there. now are we to maintain that all these and any who have similar tastes, as well as the professors of quite minor arts, are philosophers? certainly not, i replied; they are only an imitation. he said: who then are the true philosophers? those, i said, who are lovers of the vision of truth. that is also good, he said; but i should like to know what you mean? to another, i replied, i might have a difficulty in explaining; but i am sure that you will admit a proposition which i am about to make. what is the proposition? that since beauty is the opposite of ugliness, they are two? certainly. and inasmuch as they are two, each of them is one? true again. and of just and unjust, good and evil, and of every other class, the same remark holds: taken singly, each of them is one; but from the various combinations of them with actions and things and with one another, they are seen in all sorts of lights and appear many? very true. and this is the distinction which i draw between the sight-loving, art-loving, practical class and those of whom i am speaking, and who are alone worthy of the name of philosophers. how do you distinguish them? he said. the lovers of sounds and sights, i replied, are, as i conceive, fond of fine tones and colours and forms and all the artificial products that are made out of them, but their mind is incapable of seeing or loving absolute beauty. true, he replied. few are they who are able to attain to the sight of this. very true. and he who, having a sense of beautiful things has no sense of absolute beauty, or who, if another lead him to a knowledge of that beauty is unable to follow--of such an one i ask, is he awake or in a dream only? reflect: is not the dreamer, sleeping or waking, one who likens dissimilar things, who puts the copy in the place of the real object? i should certainly say that such an one was dreaming. but take the case of the other, who recognises the existence of absolute beauty and is able to distinguish the idea from the objects which participate in the idea, neither putting the objects in the place of the idea nor the idea in the place of the objects--is he a dreamer, or is he awake? he is wide awake. and may we not say that the mind of the one who knows has knowledge, and that the mind of the other, who opines only, has opinion? certainly. but suppose that the latter should quarrel with us and dispute our statement, can we administer any soothing cordial or advice to him, without revealing to him that there is sad disorder in his wits? we must certainly offer him some good advice, he replied. come, then, and let us think of something to say to him. shall we begin by assuring him that he is welcome to any knowledge which he may have, and that we are rejoiced at his having it? but we should like to ask him a question: does he who has knowledge know something or nothing? (you must answer for him.) i answer that he knows something. something that is or is not? something that is; for how can that which is not ever be known? and are we assured, after looking at the matter from many points of view, that absolute being is or may be absolutely known, but that the utterly non-existent is utterly unknown? nothing can be more certain. good. but if there be anything which is of such a nature as to be and not to be, that will have a place intermediate between pure being and the absolute negation of being? yes, between them. and, as knowledge corresponded to being and ignorance of necessity to not-being, for that intermediate between being and not-being there has to be discovered a corresponding intermediate between ignorance and knowledge, if there be such? certainly. do we admit the existence of opinion? undoubtedly. as being the same with knowledge, or another faculty? another faculty. then opinion and knowledge have to do with different kinds of matter corresponding to this difference of faculties? yes. and knowledge is relative to being and knows being. but before i proceed further i will make a division. what division? i will begin by placing faculties in a class by themselves: they are powers in us, and in all other things, by which we do as we do. sight and hearing, for example, i should call faculties. have i clearly explained the class which i mean? yes, i quite understand. then let me tell you my view about them. i do not see them, and therefore the distinctions of figure, colour, and the like, which enable me to discern the differences of some things, do not apply to them. in speaking of a faculty i think only of its sphere and its result; and that which has the same sphere and the same result i call the same faculty, but that which has another sphere and another result i call different. would that be your way of speaking? yes. and will you be so very good as to answer one more question? would you say that knowledge is a faculty, or in what class would you place it? certainly knowledge is a faculty, and the mightiest of all faculties. and is opinion also a faculty? certainly, he said; for opinion is that with which we are able to form an opinion. and yet you were acknowledging a little while ago that knowledge is not the same as opinion? why, yes, he said: how can any reasonable being ever identify that which is infallible with that which errs? an excellent answer, proving, i said, that we are quite conscious of a distinction between them. yes. then knowledge and opinion having distinct powers have also distinct spheres or subject-matters? that is certain. being is the sphere or subject-matter of knowledge, and knowledge is to know the nature of being? yes. and opinion is to have an opinion? yes. and do we know what we opine? or is the subject-matter of opinion the same as the subject-matter of knowledge? nay, he replied, that has been already disproven; if difference in faculty implies difference in the sphere or subject-matter, and if, as we were saying, opinion and knowledge are distinct faculties, then the sphere of knowledge and of opinion cannot be the same. then if being is the subject-matter of knowledge, something else must be the subject-matter of opinion? yes, something else. well then, is not-being the subject-matter of opinion? or, rather, how can there be an opinion at all about not-being? reflect: when a man has an opinion, has he not an opinion about something? can he have an opinion which is an opinion about nothing? impossible. he who has an opinion has an opinion about some one thing? yes. and not-being is not one thing but, properly speaking, nothing? true. of not-being, ignorance was assumed to be the necessary correlative; of being, knowledge? true, he said. then opinion is not concerned either with being or with not-being? not with either. and can therefore neither be ignorance nor knowledge? that seems to be true. but is opinion to be sought without and beyond either of them, in a greater clearness than knowledge, or in a greater darkness than ignorance? in neither. then i suppose that opinion appears to you to be darker than knowledge, but lighter than ignorance? both; and in no small degree. and also to be within and between them? yes. then you would infer that opinion is intermediate? no question. but were we not saying before, that if anything appeared to be of a sort which is and is not at the same time, that sort of thing would appear also to lie in the interval between pure being and absolute not-being; and that the corresponding faculty is neither knowledge nor ignorance, but will be found in the interval between them? true. and in that interval there has now been discovered something which we call opinion? there has. then what remains to be discovered is the object which partakes equally of the nature of being and not-being, and cannot rightly be termed either, pure and simple; this unknown term, when discovered, we may truly call the subject of opinion, and assign each to their proper faculty,--the extremes to the faculties of the extremes and the mean to the faculty of the mean. true. this being premised, i would ask the gentleman who is of opinion that there is no absolute or unchangeable idea of beauty--in whose opinion the beautiful is the manifold--he, i say, your lover of beautiful sights, who cannot bear to be told that the beautiful is one, and the just is one, or that anything is one--to him i would appeal, saying, will you be so very kind, sir, as to tell us whether, of all these beautiful things, there is one which will not be found ugly; or of the just, which will not be found unjust; or of the holy, which will not also be unholy? no, he replied; the beautiful will in some point of view be found ugly; and the same is true of the rest. and may not the many which are doubles be also halves?--doubles, that is, of one thing, and halves of another? quite true. and things great and small, heavy and light, as they are termed, will not be denoted by these any more than by the opposite names? true; both these and the opposite names will always attach to all of them. and can any one of those many things which are called by particular names be said to be this rather than not to be this? he replied: they are like the punning riddles which are asked at feasts or the children's puzzle about the eunuch aiming at the bat, with what he hit him, as they say in the puzzle, and upon what the bat was sitting. the individual objects of which i am speaking are also a riddle, and have a double sense: nor can you fix them in your mind, either as being or not-being, or both, or neither. then what will you do with them? i said. can they have a better place than between being and not-being? for they are clearly not in greater darkness or negation than not-being, or more full of light and existence than being. that is quite true, he said. thus then we seem to have discovered that the many ideas which the multitude entertain about the beautiful and about all other things are tossing about in some region which is half-way between pure being and pure not-being? we have. yes; and we had before agreed that anything of this kind which we might find was to be described as matter of opinion, and not as matter of knowledge; being the intermediate flux which is caught and detained by the intermediate faculty. quite true. then those who see the many beautiful, and who yet neither see absolute beauty, nor can follow any guide who points the way thither; who see the many just, and not absolute justice, and the like,--such persons may be said to have opinion but not knowledge? that is certain. but those who see the absolute and eternal and immutable may be said to know, and not to have opinion only? neither can that be denied. the one love and embrace the subjects of knowledge, the other those of opinion? the latter are the same, as i dare say you will remember, who listened to sweet sounds and gazed upon fair colours, but would not tolerate the existence of absolute beauty. yes, i remember. shall we then be guilty of any impropriety in calling them lovers of opinion rather than lovers of wisdom, and will they be very angry with us for thus describing them? i shall tell them not to be angry; no man should be angry at what is true. but those who love the truth in each thing are to be called lovers of wisdom and not lovers of opinion. assuredly. book vi. and thus, glaucon, after the argument has gone a weary way, the true and the false philosophers have at length appeared in view. i do not think, he said, that the way could have been shortened. i suppose not, i said; and yet i believe that we might have had a better view of both of them if the discussion could have been confined to this one subject and if there were not many other questions awaiting us, which he who desires to see in what respect the life of the just differs from that of the unjust must consider. and what is the next question? he asked. surely, i said, the one which follows next in order. inasmuch as philosophers only are able to grasp the eternal and unchangeable, and those who wander in the region of the many and variable are not philosophers, i must ask you which of the two classes should be the rulers of our state? and how can we rightly answer that question? whichever of the two are best able to guard the laws and institutions of our state--let them be our guardians. very good. neither, i said, can there be any question that the guardian who is to keep anything should have eyes rather than no eyes? there can be no question of that. and are not those who are verily and indeed wanting in the knowledge of the true being of each thing, and who have in their souls no clear pattern, and are unable as with a painter's eye to look at the absolute truth and to that original to repair, and having perfect vision of the other world to order the laws about beauty, goodness, justice in this, if not already ordered, and to guard and preserve the order of them--are not such persons, i ask, simply blind? truly, he replied, they are much in that condition. and shall they be our guardians when there are others who, besides being their equals in experience and falling short of them in no particular of virtue, also know the very truth of each thing? there can be no reason, he said, for rejecting those who have this greatest of all great qualities; they must always have the first place unless they fail in some other respect. suppose then, i said, that we determine how far they can unite this and the other excellences. by all means. in the first place, as we began by observing, the nature of the philosopher has to be ascertained. we must come to an understanding about him, and, when we have done so, then, if i am not mistaken, we shall also acknowledge that such an union of qualities is possible, and that those in whom they are united, and those only, should be rulers in the state. what do you mean? let us suppose that philosophical minds always love knowledge of a sort which shows them the eternal nature not varying from generation and corruption. agreed. and further, i said, let us agree that they are lovers of all true being; there is no part whether greater or less, or more or less honourable, which they are willing to renounce; as we said before of the lover and the man of ambition. true. and if they are to be what we were describing, is there not another quality which they should also possess? what quality? truthfulness: they will never intentionally receive into their mind falsehood, which is their detestation, and they will love the truth. yes, that may be safely affirmed of them. 'may be,' my friend, i replied, is not the word; say rather 'must be affirmed:' for he whose nature is amorous of anything cannot help loving all that belongs or is akin to the object of his affections. right, he said. and is there anything more akin to wisdom than truth? how can there be? can the same nature be a lover of wisdom and a lover of falsehood? never. the true lover of learning then must from his earliest youth, as far as in him lies, desire all truth? assuredly. but then again, as we know by experience, he whose desires are strong in one direction will have them weaker in others; they will be like a stream which has been drawn off into another channel. true. he whose desires are drawn towards knowledge in every form will be absorbed in the pleasures of the soul, and will hardly feel bodily pleasure--i mean, if he be a true philosopher and not a sham one. that is most certain. such an one is sure to be temperate and the reverse of covetous; for the motives which make another man desirous of having and spending, have no place in his character. very true. another criterion of the philosophical nature has also to be considered. what is that? there should be no secret corner of illiberality; nothing can be more antagonistic than meanness to a soul which is ever longing after the whole of things both divine and human. most true, he replied. then how can he who has magnificence of mind and is the spectator of all time and all existence, think much of human life? he cannot. or can such an one account death fearful? no indeed. then the cowardly and mean nature has no part in true philosophy? certainly not. or again: can he who is harmoniously constituted, who is not covetous or mean, or a boaster, or a coward--can he, i say, ever be unjust or hard in his dealings? impossible. then you will soon observe whether a man is just and gentle, or rude and unsociable; these are the signs which distinguish even in youth the philosophical nature from the unphilosophical. true. there is another point which should be remarked. what point? whether he has or has not a pleasure in learning; for no one will love that which gives him pain, and in which after much toil he makes little progress. certainly not. and again, if he is forgetful and retains nothing of what he learns, will he not be an empty vessel? that is certain. labouring in vain, he must end in hating himself and his fruitless occupation? yes. then a soul which forgets cannot be ranked among genuine philosophic natures; we must insist that the philosopher should have a good memory? certainly. and once more, the inharmonious and unseemly nature can only tend to disproportion? undoubtedly. and do you consider truth to be akin to proportion or to disproportion? to proportion. then, besides other qualities, we must try to find a naturally well-proportioned and gracious mind, which will move spontaneously towards the true being of everything. certainly. well, and do not all these qualities, which we have been enumerating, go together, and are they not, in a manner, necessary to a soul, which is to have a full and perfect participation of being? they are absolutely necessary, he replied. and must not that be a blameless study which he only can pursue who has the gift of a good memory, and is quick to learn,--noble, gracious, the friend of truth, justice, courage, temperance, who are his kindred? the god of jealousy himself, he said, could find no fault with such a study. and to men like him, i said, when perfected by years and education, and to these only you will entrust the state. here adeimantus interposed and said: to these statements, socrates, no one can offer a reply; but when you talk in this way, a strange feeling passes over the minds of your hearers: they fancy that they are led astray a little at each step in the argument, owing to their own want of skill in asking and answering questions; these littles accumulate, and at the end of the discussion they are found to have sustained a mighty overthrow and all their former notions appear to be turned upside down. and as unskilful players of draughts are at last shut up by their more skilful adversaries and have no piece to move, so they too find themselves shut up at last; for they have nothing to say in this new game of which words are the counters; and yet all the time they are in the right. the observation is suggested to me by what is now occurring. for any one of us might say, that although in words he is not able to meet you at each step of the argument, he sees as a fact that the votaries of philosophy, when they carry on the study, not only in youth as a part of education, but as the pursuit of their maturer years, most of them become strange monsters, not to say utter rogues, and that those who may be considered the best of them are made useless to the world by the very study which you extol. well, and do you think that those who say so are wrong? i cannot tell, he replied; but i should like to know what is your opinion. hear my answer; i am of opinion that they are quite right. then how can you be justified in saying that cities will not cease from evil until philosophers rule in them, when philosophers are acknowledged by us to be of no use to them? you ask a question, i said, to which a reply can only be given in a parable. yes, socrates; and that is a way of speaking to which you are not at all accustomed, i suppose. i perceive, i said, that you are vastly amused at having plunged me into such a hopeless discussion; but now hear the parable, and then you will be still more amused at the meagreness of my imagination: for the manner in which the best men are treated in their own states is so grievous that no single thing on earth is comparable to it; and therefore, if i am to plead their cause, i must have recourse to fiction, and put together a figure made up of many things, like the fabulous unions of goats and stags which are found in pictures. imagine then a fleet or a ship in which there is a captain who is taller and stronger than any of the crew, but he is a little deaf and has a similar infirmity in sight, and his knowledge of navigation is not much better. the sailors are quarrelling with one another about the steering--every one is of opinion that he has a right to steer, though he has never learned the art of navigation and cannot tell who taught him or when he learned, and will further assert that it cannot be taught, and they are ready to cut in pieces any one who says the contrary. they throng about the captain, begging and praying him to commit the helm to them; and if at any time they do not prevail, but others are preferred to them, they kill the others or throw them overboard, and having first chained up the noble captain's senses with drink or some narcotic drug, they mutiny and take possession of the ship and make free with the stores; thus, eating and drinking, they proceed on their voyage in such manner as might be expected of them. him who is their partisan and cleverly aids them in their plot for getting the ship out of the captain's hands into their own whether by force or persuasion, they compliment with the name of sailor, pilot, able seaman, and abuse the other sort of man, whom they call a good-for-nothing; but that the true pilot must pay attention to the year and seasons and sky and stars and winds, and whatever else belongs to his art, if he intends to be really qualified for the command of a ship, and that he must and will be the steerer, whether other people like or not--the possibility of this union of authority with the steerer's art has never seriously entered into their thoughts or been made part of their calling. now in vessels which are in a state of mutiny and by sailors who are mutineers, how will the true pilot be regarded? will he not be called by them a prater, a star-gazer, a good-for-nothing? of course, said adeimantus. then you will hardly need, i said, to hear the interpretation of the figure, which describes the true philosopher in his relation to the state; for you understand already. certainly. then suppose you now take this parable to the gentleman who is surprised at finding that philosophers have no honour in their cities; explain it to him and try to convince him that their having honour would be far more extraordinary. i will. say to him, that, in deeming the best votaries of philosophy to be useless to the rest of the world, he is right; but also tell him to attribute their uselessness to the fault of those who will not use them, and not to themselves. the pilot should not humbly beg the sailors to be commanded by him--that is not the order of nature; neither are 'the wise to go to the doors of the rich'--the ingenious author of this saying told a lie--but the truth is, that, when a man is ill, whether he be rich or poor, to the physician he must go, and he who wants to be governed, to him who is able to govern. the ruler who is good for anything ought not to beg his subjects to be ruled by him; although the present governors of mankind are of a different stamp; they may be justly compared to the mutinous sailors, and the true helmsmen to those who are called by them good-for-nothings and star-gazers. precisely so, he said. for these reasons, and among men like these, philosophy, the noblest pursuit of all, is not likely to be much esteemed by those of the opposite faction; not that the greatest and most lasting injury is done to her by her opponents, but by her own professing followers, the same of whom you suppose the accuser to say, that the greater number of them are arrant rogues, and the best are useless; in which opinion i agreed. yes. and the reason why the good are useless has now been explained? true. then shall we proceed to show that the corruption of the majority is also unavoidable, and that this is not to be laid to the charge of philosophy any more than the other? by all means. and let us ask and answer in turn, first going back to the description of the gentle and noble nature. truth, as you will remember, was his leader, whom he followed always and in all things; failing in this, he was an impostor, and had no part or lot in true philosophy. yes, that was said. well, and is not this one quality, to mention no others, greatly at variance with present notions of him? certainly, he said. and have we not a right to say in his defence, that the true lover of knowledge is always striving after being--that is his nature; he will not rest in the multiplicity of individuals which is an appearance only, but will go on--the keen edge will not be blunted, nor the force of his desire abate until he have attained the knowledge of the true nature of every essence by a sympathetic and kindred power in the soul, and by that power drawing near and mingling and becoming incorporate with very being, having begotten mind and truth, he will have knowledge and will live and grow truly, and then, and not till then, will he cease from his travail. nothing, he said, can be more just than such a description of him. and will the love of a lie be any part of a philosopher's nature? will he not utterly hate a lie? he will. and when truth is the captain, we cannot suspect any evil of the band which he leads? impossible. justice and health of mind will be of the company, and temperance will follow after? true, he replied. neither is there any reason why i should again set in array the philosopher's virtues, as you will doubtless remember that courage, magnificence, apprehension, memory, were his natural gifts. and you objected that, although no one could deny what i then said, still, if you leave words and look at facts, the persons who are thus described are some of them manifestly useless, and the greater number utterly depraved; we were then led to enquire into the grounds of these accusations, and have now arrived at the point of asking why are the majority bad, which question of necessity brought us back to the examination and definition of the true philosopher. exactly. and we have next to consider the corruptions of the philosophic nature, why so many are spoiled and so few escape spoiling--i am speaking of those who were said to be useless but not wicked--and, when we have done with them, we will speak of the imitators of philosophy, what manner of men are they who aspire after a profession which is above them and of which they are unworthy, and then, by their manifold inconsistencies, bring upon philosophy, and upon all philosophers, that universal reprobation of which we speak. what are these corruptions? he said. i will see if i can explain them to you. every one will admit that a nature having in perfection all the qualities which we required in a philosopher, is a rare plant which is seldom seen among men. rare indeed. and what numberless and powerful causes tend to destroy these rare natures! what causes? in the first place there are their own virtues, their courage, temperance, and the rest of them, every one of which praiseworthy qualities (and this is a most singular circumstance) destroys and distracts from philosophy the soul which is the possessor of them. that is very singular, he replied. then there are all the ordinary goods of life--beauty, wealth, strength, rank, and great connections in the state--you understand the sort of things--these also have a corrupting and distracting effect. i understand; but i should like to know more precisely what you mean about them. grasp the truth as a whole, i said, and in the right way; you will then have no difficulty in apprehending the preceding remarks, and they will no longer appear strange to you. and how am i to do so? he asked. why, i said, we know that all germs or seeds, whether vegetable or animal, when they fail to meet with proper nutriment or climate or soil, in proportion to their vigour, are all the more sensitive to the want of a suitable environment, for evil is a greater enemy to what is good than to what is not. very true. there is reason in supposing that the finest natures, when under alien conditions, receive more injury than the inferior, because the contrast is greater. certainly. and may we not say, adeimantus, that the most gifted minds, when they are ill-educated, become pre-eminently bad? do not great crimes and the spirit of pure evil spring out of a fulness of nature ruined by education rather than from any inferiority, whereas weak natures are scarcely capable of any very great good or very great evil? there i think that you are right. and our philosopher follows the same analogy--he is like a plant which, having proper nurture, must necessarily grow and mature into all virtue, but, if sown and planted in an alien soil, becomes the most noxious of all weeds, unless he be preserved by some divine power. do you really think, as people so often say, that our youth are corrupted by sophists, or that private teachers of the art corrupt them in any degree worth speaking of? are not the public who say these things the greatest of all sophists? and do they not educate to perfection young and old, men and women alike, and fashion them after their own hearts? when is this accomplished? he said. when they meet together, and the world sits down at an assembly, or in a court of law, or a theatre, or a camp, or in any other popular resort, and there is a great uproar, and they praise some things which are being said or done, and blame other things, equally exaggerating both, shouting and clapping their hands, and the echo of the rocks and the place in which they are assembled redoubles the sound of the praise or blame--at such a time will not a young man's heart, as they say, leap within him? will any private training enable him to stand firm against the overwhelming flood of popular opinion? or will he be carried away by the stream? will he not have the notions of good and evil which the public in general have--he will do as they do, and as they are, such will he be? yes, socrates; necessity will compel him. and yet, i said, there is a still greater necessity, which has not been mentioned. what is that? the gentle force of attainder or confiscation or death, which, as you are aware, these new sophists and educators, who are the public, apply when their words are powerless. indeed they do; and in right good earnest. now what opinion of any other sophist, or of any private person, can be expected to overcome in such an unequal contest? none, he replied. no, indeed, i said, even to make the attempt is a great piece of folly; there neither is, nor has been, nor is ever likely to be, any different type of character which has had no other training in virtue but that which is supplied by public opinion--i speak, my friend, of human virtue only; what is more than human, as the proverb says, is not included: for i would not have you ignorant that, in the present evil state of governments, whatever is saved and comes to good is saved by the power of god, as we may truly say. i quite assent, he replied. then let me crave your assent also to a further observation. what are you going to say? why, that all those mercenary individuals, whom the many call sophists and whom they deem to be their adversaries, do, in fact, teach nothing but the opinion of the many, that is to say, the opinions of their assemblies; and this is their wisdom. i might compare them to a man who should study the tempers and desires of a mighty strong beast who is fed by him--he would learn how to approach and handle him, also at what times and from what causes he is dangerous or the reverse, and what is the meaning of his several cries, and by what sounds, when another utters them, he is soothed or infuriated; and you may suppose further, that when, by continually attending upon him, he has become perfect in all this, he calls his knowledge wisdom, and makes of it a system or art, which he proceeds to teach, although he has no real notion of what he means by the principles or passions of which he is speaking, but calls this honourable and that dishonourable, or good or evil, or just or unjust, all in accordance with the tastes and tempers of the great brute. good he pronounces to be that in which the beast delights and evil to be that which he dislikes; and he can give no other account of them except that the just and noble are the necessary, having never himself seen, and having no power of explaining to others the nature of either, or the difference between them, which is immense. by heaven, would not such an one be a rare educator? indeed he would. and in what way does he who thinks that wisdom is the discernment of the tempers and tastes of the motley multitude, whether in painting or music, or, finally, in politics, differ from him whom i have been describing? for when a man consorts with the many, and exhibits to them his poem or other work of art or the service which he has done the state, making them his judges when he is not obliged, the so-called necessity of diomede will oblige him to produce whatever they praise. and yet the reasons are utterly ludicrous which they give in confirmation of their own notions about the honourable and good. did you ever hear any of them which were not? no, nor am i likely to hear. you recognise the truth of what i have been saying? then let me ask you to consider further whether the world will ever be induced to believe in the existence of absolute beauty rather than of the many beautiful, or of the absolute in each kind rather than of the many in each kind? certainly not. then the world cannot possibly be a philosopher? impossible. and therefore philosophers must inevitably fall under the censure of the world? they must. and of individuals who consort with the mob and seek to please them? that is evident. then, do you see any way in which the philosopher can be preserved in his calling to the end? and remember what we were saying of him, that he was to have quickness and memory and courage and magnificence--these were admitted by us to be the true philosopher's gifts. yes. will not such an one from his early childhood be in all things first among all, especially if his bodily endowments are like his mental ones? certainly, he said. and his friends and fellow-citizens will want to use him as he gets older for their own purposes? no question. falling at his feet, they will make requests to him and do him honour and flatter him, because they want to get into their hands now, the power which he will one day possess. that often happens, he said. and what will a man such as he is be likely to do under such circumstances, especially if he be a citizen of a great city, rich and noble, and a tall proper youth? will he not be full of boundless aspirations, and fancy himself able to manage the affairs of hellenes and of barbarians, and having got such notions into his head will he not dilate and elevate himself in the fulness of vain pomp and senseless pride? to be sure he will. now, when he is in this state of mind, if some one gently comes to him and tells him that he is a fool and must get understanding, which can only be got by slaving for it, do you think that, under such adverse circumstances, he will be easily induced to listen? far otherwise. and even if there be some one who through inherent goodness or natural reasonableness has had his eyes opened a little and is humbled and taken captive by philosophy, how will his friends behave when they think that they are likely to lose the advantage which they were hoping to reap from his companionship? will they not do and say anything to prevent him from yielding to his better nature and to render his teacher powerless, using to this end private intrigues as well as public prosecutions? there can be no doubt of it. and how can one who is thus circumstanced ever become a philosopher? impossible. then were we not right in saying that even the very qualities which make a man a philosopher may, if he be ill-educated, divert him from philosophy, no less than riches and their accompaniments and the other so-called goods of life? we were quite right. thus, my excellent friend, is brought about all that ruin and failure which i have been describing of the natures best adapted to the best of all pursuits; they are natures which we maintain to be rare at any time; this being the class out of which come the men who are the authors of the greatest evil to states and individuals; and also of the greatest good when the tide carries them in that direction; but a small man never was the doer of any great thing either to individuals or to states. that is most true, he said. and so philosophy is left desolate, with her marriage rite incomplete: for her own have fallen away and forsaken her, and while they are leading a false and unbecoming life, other unworthy persons, seeing that she has no kinsmen to be her protectors, enter in and dishonour her; and fasten upon her the reproaches which, as you say, her reprovers utter, who affirm of her votaries that some are good for nothing, and that the greater number deserve the severest punishment. that is certainly what people say. yes; and what else would you expect, i said, when you think of the puny creatures who, seeing this land open to them--a land well stocked with fair names and showy titles--like prisoners running out of prison into a sanctuary, take a leap out of their trades into philosophy; those who do so being probably the cleverest hands at their own miserable crafts? for, although philosophy be in this evil case, still there remains a dignity about her which is not to be found in the arts. and many are thus attracted by her whose natures are imperfect and whose souls are maimed and disfigured by their meannesses, as their bodies are by their trades and crafts. is not this unavoidable? yes. are they not exactly like a bald little tinker who has just got out of durance and come into a fortune; he takes a bath and puts on a new coat, and is decked out as a bridegroom going to marry his master's daughter, who is left poor and desolate? a most exact parallel. what will be the issue of such marriages? will they not be vile and bastard? there can be no question of it. and when persons who are unworthy of education approach philosophy and make an alliance with her who is in a rank above them what sort of ideas and opinions are likely to be generated? will they not be sophisms captivating to the ear, having nothing in them genuine, or worthy of or akin to true wisdom? no doubt, he said. then, adeimantus, i said, the worthy disciples of philosophy will be but a small remnant: perchance some noble and well-educated person, detained by exile in her service, who in the absence of corrupting influences remains devoted to her; or some lofty soul born in a mean city, the politics of which he contemns and neglects; and there may be a gifted few who leave the arts, which they justly despise, and come to her;--or peradventure there are some who are restrained by our friend theages' bridle; for everything in the life of theages conspired to divert him from philosophy; but ill-health kept him away from politics. my own case of the internal sign is hardly worth mentioning, for rarely, if ever, has such a monitor been given to any other man. those who belong to this small class have tasted how sweet and blessed a possession philosophy is, and have also seen enough of the madness of the multitude; and they know that no politician is honest, nor is there any champion of justice at whose side they may fight and be saved. such an one may be compared to a man who has fallen among wild beasts--he will not join in the wickedness of his fellows, but neither is he able singly to resist all their fierce natures, and therefore seeing that he would be of no use to the state or to his friends, and reflecting that he would have to throw away his life without doing any good either to himself or others, he holds his peace, and goes his own way. he is like one who, in the storm of dust and sleet which the driving wind hurries along, retires under the shelter of a wall; and seeing the rest of mankind full of wickedness, he is content, if only he can live his own life and be pure from evil or unrighteousness, and depart in peace and good-will, with bright hopes. yes, he said, and he will have done a great work before he departs. a great work--yes; but not the greatest, unless he find a state suitable to him; for in a state which is suitable to him, he will have a larger growth and be the saviour of his country, as well as of himself. the causes why philosophy is in such an evil name have now been sufficiently explained: the injustice of the charges against her has been shown--is there anything more which you wish to say? nothing more on that subject, he replied; but i should like to know which of the governments now existing is in your opinion the one adapted to her. not any of them, i said; and that is precisely the accusation which i bring against them--not one of them is worthy of the philosophic nature, and hence that nature is warped and estranged;--as the exotic seed which is sown in a foreign land becomes denaturalized, and is wont to be overpowered and to lose itself in the new soil, even so this growth of philosophy, instead of persisting, degenerates and receives another character. but if philosophy ever finds in the state that perfection which she herself is, then will be seen that she is in truth divine, and that all other things, whether natures of men or institutions, are but human;--and now, i know, that you are going to ask, what that state is: no, he said; there you are wrong, for i was going to ask another question--whether it is the state of which we are the founders and inventors, or some other? yes, i replied, ours in most respects; but you may remember my saying before, that some living authority would always be required in the state having the same idea of the constitution which guided you when as legislator you were laying down the laws. that was said, he replied. yes, but not in a satisfactory manner; you frightened us by interposing objections, which certainly showed that the discussion would be long and difficult; and what still remains is the reverse of easy. what is there remaining? the question how the study of philosophy may be so ordered as not to be the ruin of the state: all great attempts are attended with risk; 'hard is the good,' as men say. still, he said, let the point be cleared up, and the enquiry will then be complete. i shall not be hindered, i said, by any want of will, but, if at all, by a want of power: my zeal you may see for yourselves; and please to remark in what i am about to say how boldly and unhesitatingly i declare that states should pursue philosophy, not as they do now, but in a different spirit. in what manner? at present, i said, the students of philosophy are quite young; beginning when they are hardly past childhood, they devote only the time saved from moneymaking and housekeeping to such pursuits; and even those of them who are reputed to have most of the philosophic spirit, when they come within sight of the great difficulty of the subject, i mean dialectic, take themselves off. in after life when invited by some one else, they may, perhaps, go and hear a lecture, and about this they make much ado, for philosophy is not considered by them to be their proper business: at last, when they grow old, in most cases they are extinguished more truly than heracleitus' sun, inasmuch as they never light up again. (heraclitus said that the sun was extinguished every evening and relighted every morning.) but what ought to be their course? just the opposite. in childhood and youth their study, and what philosophy they learn, should be suited to their tender years: during this period while they are growing up towards manhood, the chief and special care should be given to their bodies that they may have them to use in the service of philosophy; as life advances and the intellect begins to mature, let them increase the gymnastics of the soul; but when the strength of our citizens fails and is past civil and military duties, then let them range at will and engage in no serious labour, as we intend them to live happily here, and to crown this life with a similar happiness in another. how truly in earnest you are, socrates! he said; i am sure of that; and yet most of your hearers, if i am not mistaken, are likely to be still more earnest in their opposition to you, and will never be convinced; thrasymachus least of all. do not make a quarrel, i said, between thrasymachus and me, who have recently become friends, although, indeed, we were never enemies; for i shall go on striving to the utmost until i either convert him and other men, or do something which may profit them against the day when they live again, and hold the like discourse in another state of existence. you are speaking of a time which is not very near. rather, i replied, of a time which is as nothing in comparison with eternity. nevertheless, i do not wonder that the many refuse to believe; for they have never seen that of which we are now speaking realized; they have seen only a conventional imitation of philosophy, consisting of words artificially brought together, not like these of ours having a natural unity. but a human being who in word and work is perfectly moulded, as far as he can be, into the proportion and likeness of virtue--such a man ruling in a city which bears the same image, they have never yet seen, neither one nor many of them--do you think that they ever did? no indeed. no, my friend, and they have seldom, if ever, heard free and noble sentiments; such as men utter when they are earnestly and by every means in their power seeking after truth for the sake of knowledge, while they look coldly on the subtleties of controversy, of which the end is opinion and strife, whether they meet with them in the courts of law or in society. they are strangers, he said, to the words of which you speak. and this was what we foresaw, and this was the reason why truth forced us to admit, not without fear and hesitation, that neither cities nor states nor individuals will ever attain perfection until the small class of philosophers whom we termed useless but not corrupt are providentially compelled, whether they will or not, to take care of the state, and until a like necessity be laid on the state to obey them; or until kings, or if not kings, the sons of kings or princes, are divinely inspired with a true love of true philosophy. that either or both of these alternatives are impossible, i see no reason to affirm: if they were so, we might indeed be justly ridiculed as dreamers and visionaries. am i not right? quite right. if then, in the countless ages of the past, or at the present hour in some foreign clime which is far away and beyond our ken, the perfected philosopher is or has been or hereafter shall be compelled by a superior power to have the charge of the state, we are ready to assert to the death, that this our constitution has been, and is--yea, and will be whenever the muse of philosophy is queen. there is no impossibility in all this; that there is a difficulty, we acknowledge ourselves. my opinion agrees with yours, he said. but do you mean to say that this is not the opinion of the multitude? i should imagine not, he replied. o my friend, i said, do not attack the multitude: they will change their minds, if, not in an aggressive spirit, but gently and with the view of soothing them and removing their dislike of over-education, you show them your philosophers as they really are and describe as you were just now doing their character and profession, and then mankind will see that he of whom you are speaking is not such as they supposed--if they view him in this new light, they will surely change their notion of him, and answer in another strain. who can be at enmity with one who loves them, who that is himself gentle and free from envy will be jealous of one in whom there is no jealousy? nay, let me answer for you, that in a few this harsh temper may be found but not in the majority of mankind. i quite agree with you, he said. and do you not also think, as i do, that the harsh feeling which the many entertain towards philosophy originates in the pretenders, who rush in uninvited, and are always abusing them, and finding fault with them, who make persons instead of things the theme of their conversation? and nothing can be more unbecoming in philosophers than this. it is most unbecoming. for he, adeimantus, whose mind is fixed upon true being, has surely no time to look down upon the affairs of earth, or to be filled with malice and envy, contending against men; his eye is ever directed towards things fixed and immutable, which he sees neither injuring nor injured by one another, but all in order moving according to reason; these he imitates, and to these he will, as far as he can, conform himself. can a man help imitating that with which he holds reverential converse? impossible. and the philosopher holding converse with the divine order, becomes orderly and divine, as far as the nature of man allows; but like every one else, he will suffer from detraction. of course. and if a necessity be laid upon him of fashioning, not only himself, but human nature generally, whether in states or individuals, into that which he beholds elsewhere, will he, think you, be an unskilful artificer of justice, temperance, and every civil virtue? anything but unskilful. and if the world perceives that what we are saying about him is the truth, will they be angry with philosophy? will they disbelieve us, when we tell them that no state can be happy which is not designed by artists who imitate the heavenly pattern? they will not be angry if they understand, he said. but how will they draw out the plan of which you are speaking? they will begin by taking the state and the manners of men, from which, as from a tablet, they will rub out the picture, and leave a clean surface. this is no easy task. but whether easy or not, herein will lie the difference between them and every other legislator,--they will have nothing to do either with individual or state, and will inscribe no laws, until they have either found, or themselves made, a clean surface. they will be very right, he said. having effected this, they will proceed to trace an outline of the constitution? no doubt. and when they are filling in the work, as i conceive, they will often turn their eyes upwards and downwards: i mean that they will first look at absolute justice and beauty and temperance, and again at the human copy; and will mingle and temper the various elements of life into the image of a man; and this they will conceive according to that other image, which, when existing among men, homer calls the form and likeness of god. very true, he said. and one feature they will erase, and another they will put in, until they have made the ways of men, as far as possible, agreeable to the ways of god? indeed, he said, in no way could they make a fairer picture. and now, i said, are we beginning to persuade those whom you described as rushing at us with might and main, that the painter of constitutions is such an one as we are praising; at whom they were so very indignant because to his hands we committed the state; and are they growing a little calmer at what they have just heard? much calmer, if there is any sense in them. why, where can they still find any ground for objection? will they doubt that the philosopher is a lover of truth and being? they would not be so unreasonable. or that his nature, being such as we have delineated, is akin to the highest good? neither can they doubt this. but again, will they tell us that such a nature, placed under favourable circumstances, will not be perfectly good and wise if any ever was? or will they prefer those whom we have rejected? surely not. then will they still be angry at our saying, that, until philosophers bear rule, states and individuals will have no rest from evil, nor will this our imaginary state ever be realized? i think that they will be less angry. shall we assume that they are not only less angry but quite gentle, and that they have been converted and for very shame, if for no other reason, cannot refuse to come to terms? by all means, he said. then let us suppose that the reconciliation has been effected. will any one deny the other point, that there may be sons of kings or princes who are by nature philosophers? surely no man, he said. and when they have come into being will any one say that they must of necessity be destroyed; that they can hardly be saved is not denied even by us; but that in the whole course of ages no single one of them can escape--who will venture to affirm this? who indeed! but, said i, one is enough; let there be one man who has a city obedient to his will, and he might bring into existence the ideal polity about which the world is so incredulous. yes, one is enough. the ruler may impose the laws and institutions which we have been describing, and the citizens may possibly be willing to obey them? certainly. and that others should approve, of what we approve, is no miracle or impossibility? i think not. but we have sufficiently shown, in what has preceded, that all this, if only possible, is assuredly for the best. we have. and now we say not only that our laws, if they could be enacted, would be for the best, but also that the enactment of them, though difficult, is not impossible. very good. and so with pain and toil we have reached the end of one subject, but more remains to be discussed;--how and by what studies and pursuits will the saviours of the constitution be created, and at what ages are they to apply themselves to their several studies? certainly. i omitted the troublesome business of the possession of women, and the procreation of children, and the appointment of the rulers, because i knew that the perfect state would be eyed with jealousy and was difficult of attainment; but that piece of cleverness was not of much service to me, for i had to discuss them all the same. the women and children are now disposed of, but the other question of the rulers must be investigated from the very beginning. we were saying, as you will remember, that they were to be lovers of their country, tried by the test of pleasures and pains, and neither in hardships, nor in dangers, nor at any other critical moment were to lose their patriotism--he was to be rejected who failed, but he who always came forth pure, like gold tried in the refiner's fire, was to be made a ruler, and to receive honours and rewards in life and after death. this was the sort of thing which was being said, and then the argument turned aside and veiled her face; not liking to stir the question which has now arisen. i perfectly remember, he said. yes, my friend, i said, and i then shrank from hazarding the bold word; but now let me dare to say--that the perfect guardian must be a philosopher. yes, he said, let that be affirmed. and do not suppose that there will be many of them; for the gifts which were deemed by us to be essential rarely grow together; they are mostly found in shreds and patches. what do you mean? he said. you are aware, i replied, that quick intelligence, memory, sagacity, cleverness, and similar qualities, do not often grow together, and that persons who possess them and are at the same time high-spirited and magnanimous are not so constituted by nature as to live orderly and in a peaceful and settled manner; they are driven any way by their impulses, and all solid principle goes out of them. very true, he said. on the other hand, those steadfast natures which can better be depended upon, which in a battle are impregnable to fear and immovable, are equally immovable when there is anything to be learned; they are always in a torpid state, and are apt to yawn and go to sleep over any intellectual toil. quite true. and yet we were saying that both qualities were necessary in those to whom the higher education is to be imparted, and who are to share in any office or command. certainly, he said. and will they be a class which is rarely found? yes, indeed. then the aspirant must not only be tested in those labours and dangers and pleasures which we mentioned before, but there is another kind of probation which we did not mention--he must be exercised also in many kinds of knowledge, to see whether the soul will be able to endure the highest of all, or will faint under them, as in any other studies and exercises. yes, he said, you are quite right in testing him. but what do you mean by the highest of all knowledge? you may remember, i said, that we divided the soul into three parts; and distinguished the several natures of justice, temperance, courage, and wisdom? indeed, he said, if i had forgotten, i should not deserve to hear more. and do you remember the word of caution which preceded the discussion of them? to what do you refer? we were saying, if i am not mistaken, that he who wanted to see them in their perfect beauty must take a longer and more circuitous way, at the end of which they would appear; but that we could add on a popular exposition of them on a level with the discussion which had preceded. and you replied that such an exposition would be enough for you, and so the enquiry was continued in what to me seemed to be a very inaccurate manner; whether you were satisfied or not, it is for you to say. yes, he said, i thought and the others thought that you gave us a fair measure of truth. but, my friend, i said, a measure of such things which in any degree falls short of the whole truth is not fair measure; for nothing imperfect is the measure of anything, although persons are too apt to be contented and think that they need search no further. not an uncommon case when people are indolent. yes, i said; and there cannot be any worse fault in a guardian of the state and of the laws. true. the guardian then, i said, must be required to take the longer circuit, and toil at learning as well as at gymnastics, or he will never reach the highest knowledge of all which, as we were just now saying, is his proper calling. what, he said, is there a knowledge still higher than this--higher than justice and the other virtues? yes, i said, there is. and of the virtues too we must behold not the outline merely, as at present--nothing short of the most finished picture should satisfy us. when little things are elaborated with an infinity of pains, in order that they may appear in their full beauty and utmost clearness, how ridiculous that we should not think the highest truths worthy of attaining the highest accuracy! a right noble thought; but do you suppose that we shall refrain from asking you what is this highest knowledge? nay, i said, ask if you will; but i am certain that you have heard the answer many times, and now you either do not understand me or, as i rather think, you are disposed to be troublesome; for you have often been told that the idea of good is the highest knowledge, and that all other things become useful and advantageous only by their use of this. you can hardly be ignorant that of this i was about to speak, concerning which, as you have often heard me say, we know so little; and, without which, any other knowledge or possession of any kind will profit us nothing. do you think that the possession of all other things is of any value if we do not possess the good? or the knowledge of all other things if we have no knowledge of beauty and goodness? assuredly not. you are further aware that most people affirm pleasure to be the good, but the finer sort of wits say it is knowledge? yes. and you are aware too that the latter cannot explain what they mean by knowledge, but are obliged after all to say knowledge of the good? how ridiculous! yes, i said, that they should begin by reproaching us with our ignorance of the good, and then presume our knowledge of it--for the good they define to be knowledge of the good, just as if we understood them when they use the term 'good'--this is of course ridiculous. most true, he said. and those who make pleasure their good are in equal perplexity; for they are compelled to admit that there are bad pleasures as well as good. certainly. and therefore to acknowledge that bad and good are the same? true. there can be no doubt about the numerous difficulties in which this question is involved. there can be none. further, do we not see that many are willing to do or to have or to seem to be what is just and honourable without the reality; but no one is satisfied with the appearance of good--the reality is what they seek; in the case of the good, appearance is despised by every one. very true, he said. of this then, which every soul of man pursues and makes the end of all his actions, having a presentiment that there is such an end, and yet hesitating because neither knowing the nature nor having the same assurance of this as of other things, and therefore losing whatever good there is in other things,--of a principle such and so great as this ought the best men in our state, to whom everything is entrusted, to be in the darkness of ignorance? certainly not, he said. i am sure, i said, that he who does not know how the beautiful and the just are likewise good will be but a sorry guardian of them; and i suspect that no one who is ignorant of the good will have a true knowledge of them. that, he said, is a shrewd suspicion of yours. and if we only have a guardian who has this knowledge our state will be perfectly ordered? of course, he replied; but i wish that you would tell me whether you conceive this supreme principle of the good to be knowledge or pleasure, or different from either? aye, i said, i knew all along that a fastidious gentleman like you would not be contented with the thoughts of other people about these matters. true, socrates; but i must say that one who like you has passed a lifetime in the study of philosophy should not be always repeating the opinions of others, and never telling his own. well, but has any one a right to say positively what he does not know? not, he said, with the assurance of positive certainty; he has no right to do that: but he may say what he thinks, as a matter of opinion. and do you not know, i said, that all mere opinions are bad, and the best of them blind? you would not deny that those who have any true notion without intelligence are only like blind men who feel their way along the road? very true. and do you wish to behold what is blind and crooked and base, when others will tell you of brightness and beauty? still, i must implore you, socrates, said glaucon, not to turn away just as you are reaching the goal; if you will only give such an explanation of the good as you have already given of justice and temperance and the other virtues, we shall be satisfied. yes, my friend, and i shall be at least equally satisfied, but i cannot help fearing that i shall fail, and that my indiscreet zeal will bring ridicule upon me. no, sweet sirs, let us not at present ask what is the actual nature of the good, for to reach what is now in my thoughts would be an effort too great for me. but of the child of the good who is likest him, i would fain speak, if i could be sure that you wished to hear--otherwise, not. by all means, he said, tell us about the child, and you shall remain in our debt for the account of the parent. i do indeed wish, i replied, that i could pay, and you receive, the account of the parent, and not, as now, of the offspring only; take, however, this latter by way of interest, and at the same time have a care that i do not render a false account, although i have no intention of deceiving you. yes, we will take all the care that we can: proceed. yes, i said, but i must first come to an understanding with you, and remind you of what i have mentioned in the course of this discussion, and at many other times. what? the old story, that there is a many beautiful and a many good, and so of other things which we describe and define; to all of them the term 'many' is applied. true, he said. and there is an absolute beauty and an absolute good, and of other things to which the term 'many' is applied there is an absolute; for they may be brought under a single idea, which is called the essence of each. very true. the many, as we say, are seen but not known, and the ideas are known but not seen. exactly. and what is the organ with which we see the visible things? the sight, he said. and with the hearing, i said, we hear, and with the other senses perceive the other objects of sense? true. but have you remarked that sight is by far the most costly and complex piece of workmanship which the artificer of the senses ever contrived? no, i never have, he said. then reflect; has the ear or voice need of any third or additional nature in order that the one may be able to hear and the other to be heard? nothing of the sort. no, indeed, i replied; and the same is true of most, if not all, the other senses--you would not say that any of them requires such an addition? certainly not. but you see that without the addition of some other nature there is no seeing or being seen? how do you mean? sight being, as i conceive, in the eyes, and he who has eyes wanting to see; colour being also present in them, still unless there be a third nature specially adapted to the purpose, the owner of the eyes will see nothing and the colours will be invisible. of what nature are you speaking? of that which you term light, i replied. true, he said. noble, then, is the bond which links together sight and visibility, and great beyond other bonds by no small difference of nature; for light is their bond, and light is no ignoble thing? nay, he said, the reverse of ignoble. and which, i said, of the gods in heaven would you say was the lord of this element? whose is that light which makes the eye to see perfectly and the visible to appear? you mean the sun, as you and all mankind say. may not the relation of sight to this deity be described as follows? how? neither sight nor the eye in which sight resides is the sun? no. yet of all the organs of sense the eye is the most like the sun? by far the most like. and the power which the eye possesses is a sort of effluence which is dispensed from the sun? exactly. then the sun is not sight, but the author of sight who is recognised by sight? true, he said. and this is he whom i call the child of the good, whom the good begat in his own likeness, to be in the visible world, in relation to sight and the things of sight, what the good is in the intellectual world in relation to mind and the things of mind: will you be a little more explicit? he said. why, you know, i said, that the eyes, when a person directs them towards objects on which the light of day is no longer shining, but the moon and stars only, see dimly, and are nearly blind; they seem to have no clearness of vision in them? very true. but when they are directed towards objects on which the sun shines, they see clearly and there is sight in them? certainly. and the soul is like the eye: when resting upon that on which truth and being shine, the soul perceives and understands, and is radiant with intelligence; but when turned towards the twilight of becoming and perishing, then she has opinion only, and goes blinking about, and is first of one opinion and then of another, and seems to have no intelligence? just so. now, that which imparts truth to the known and the power of knowing to the knower is what i would have you term the idea of good, and this you will deem to be the cause of science, and of truth in so far as the latter becomes the subject of knowledge; beautiful too, as are both truth and knowledge, you will be right in esteeming this other nature as more beautiful than either; and, as in the previous instance, light and sight may be truly said to be like the sun, and yet not to be the sun, so in this other sphere, science and truth may be deemed to be like the good, but not the good; the good has a place of honour yet higher. what a wonder of beauty that must be, he said, which is the author of science and truth, and yet surpasses them in beauty; for you surely cannot mean to say that pleasure is the good? god forbid, i replied; but may i ask you to consider the image in another point of view? in what point of view? you would say, would you not, that the sun is not only the author of visibility in all visible things, but of generation and nourishment and growth, though he himself is not generation? certainly. in like manner the good may be said to be not only the author of knowledge to all things known, but of their being and essence, and yet the good is not essence, but far exceeds essence in dignity and power. glaucon said, with a ludicrous earnestness: by the light of heaven, how amazing! yes, i said, and the exaggeration may be set down to you; for you made me utter my fancies. and pray continue to utter them; at any rate let us hear if there is anything more to be said about the similitude of the sun. yes, i said, there is a great deal more. then omit nothing, however slight. i will do my best, i said; but i should think that a great deal will have to be omitted. i hope not, he said. you have to imagine, then, that there are two ruling powers, and that one of them is set over the intellectual world, the other over the visible. i do not say heaven, lest you should fancy that i am playing upon the name ('ourhanoz, orhatoz'). may i suppose that you have this distinction of the visible and intelligible fixed in your mind? i have. now take a line which has been cut into two unequal parts, and divide each of them again in the same proportion, and suppose the two main divisions to answer, one to the visible and the other to the intelligible, and then compare the subdivisions in respect of their clearness and want of clearness, and you will find that the first section in the sphere of the visible consists of images. and by images i mean, in the first place, shadows, and in the second place, reflections in water and in solid, smooth and polished bodies and the like: do you understand? yes, i understand. imagine, now, the other section, of which this is only the resemblance, to include the animals which we see, and everything that grows or is made. very good. would you not admit that both the sections of this division have different degrees of truth, and that the copy is to the original as the sphere of opinion is to the sphere of knowledge? most undoubtedly. next proceed to consider the manner in which the sphere of the intellectual is to be divided. in what manner? thus:--there are two subdivisions, in the lower of which the soul uses the figures given by the former division as images; the enquiry can only be hypothetical, and instead of going upwards to a principle descends to the other end; in the higher of the two, the soul passes out of hypotheses, and goes up to a principle which is above hypotheses, making no use of images as in the former case, but proceeding only in and through the ideas themselves. i do not quite understand your meaning, he said. then i will try again; you will understand me better when i have made some preliminary remarks. you are aware that students of geometry, arithmetic, and the kindred sciences assume the odd and the even and the figures and three kinds of angles and the like in their several branches of science; these are their hypotheses, which they and every body are supposed to know, and therefore they do not deign to give any account of them either to themselves or others; but they begin with them, and go on until they arrive at last, and in a consistent manner, at their conclusion? yes, he said, i know. and do you not know also that although they make use of the visible forms and reason about them, they are thinking not of these, but of the ideals which they resemble; not of the figures which they draw, but of the absolute square and the absolute diameter, and so on--the forms which they draw or make, and which have shadows and reflections in water of their own, are converted by them into images, but they are really seeking to behold the things themselves, which can only be seen with the eye of the mind? that is true. and of this kind i spoke as the intelligible, although in the search after it the soul is compelled to use hypotheses; not ascending to a first principle, because she is unable to rise above the region of hypothesis, but employing the objects of which the shadows below are resemblances in their turn as images, they having in relation to the shadows and reflections of them a greater distinctness, and therefore a higher value. i understand, he said, that you are speaking of the province of geometry and the sister arts. and when i speak of the other division of the intelligible, you will understand me to speak of that other sort of knowledge which reason herself attains by the power of dialectic, using the hypotheses not as first principles, but only as hypotheses--that is to say, as steps and points of departure into a world which is above hypotheses, in order that she may soar beyond them to the first principle of the whole; and clinging to this and then to that which depends on this, by successive steps she descends again without the aid of any sensible object, from ideas, through ideas, and in ideas she ends. i understand you, he replied; not perfectly, for you seem to me to be describing a task which is really tremendous; but, at any rate, i understand you to say that knowledge and being, which the science of dialectic contemplates, are clearer than the notions of the arts, as they are termed, which proceed from hypotheses only: these are also contemplated by the understanding, and not by the senses: yet, because they start from hypotheses and do not ascend to a principle, those who contemplate them appear to you not to exercise the higher reason upon them, although when a first principle is added to them they are cognizable by the higher reason. and the habit which is concerned with geometry and the cognate sciences i suppose that you would term understanding and not reason, as being intermediate between opinion and reason. you have quite conceived my meaning, i said; and now, corresponding to these four divisions, let there be four faculties in the soul--reason answering to the highest, understanding to the second, faith (or conviction) to the third, and perception of shadows to the last--and let there be a scale of them, and let us suppose that the several faculties have clearness in the same degree that their objects have truth. i understand, he replied, and give my assent, and accept your arrangement. book vii. and now, i said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened:--behold! human beings living in a underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets. i see. and do you see, i said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall? some of them are talking, others silent. you have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners. like ourselves, i replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave? true, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads? and of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only see the shadows? yes, he said. and if they were able to converse with one another, would they not suppose that they were naming what was actually before them? very true. and suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the other side, would they not be sure to fancy when one of the passers-by spoke that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadow? no question, he replied. to them, i said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the images. that is certain. and now look again, and see what will naturally follow if the prisoners are released and disabused of their error. at first, when any of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him, and he will be unable to see the realities of which in his former state he had seen the shadows; and then conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but that now, when he is approaching nearer to being and his eye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer vision,--what will be his reply? and you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and requiring him to name them,--will he not be perplexed? will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now shown to him? far truer. and if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take refuge in the objects of vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be in reality clearer than the things which are now being shown to him? true, he said. and suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and rugged ascent, and held fast until he is forced into the presence of the sun himself, is he not likely to be pained and irritated? when he approaches the light his eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be able to see anything at all of what are now called realities. not all in a moment, he said. he will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper world. and first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and other objects in the water, and then the objects themselves; then he will gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven; and he will see the sky and the stars by night better than the sun or the light of the sun by day? certainly. last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is. certainly. he will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives the season and the years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visible world, and in a certain way the cause of all things which he and his fellows have been accustomed to behold? clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then reason about him. and when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them? certainly, he would. and if they were in the habit of conferring honours among themselves on those who were quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark which of them went before, and which followed after, and which were together; and who were therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future, do you think that he would care for such honours and glories, or envy the possessors of them? would he not say with homer, 'better to be the poor servant of a poor master,' and to endure anything, rather than think as they do and live after their manner? yes, he said, i think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner. imagine once more, i said, such an one coming suddenly out of the sun to be replaced in his old situation; would he not be certain to have his eyes full of darkness? to be sure, he said. and if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measuring the shadows with the prisoners who had never moved out of the den, while his sight was still weak, and before his eyes had become steady (and the time which would be needed to acquire this new habit of sight might be very considerable), would he not be ridiculous? men would say of him that up he went and down he came without his eyes; and that it was better not even to think of ascending; and if any one tried to loose another and lead him up to the light, let them only catch the offender, and they would put him to death. no question, he said. this entire allegory, i said, you may now append, dear glaucon, to the previous argument; the prison-house is the world of sight, the light of the fire is the sun, and you will not misapprehend me if you interpret the journey upwards to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world according to my poor belief, which, at your desire, i have expressed--whether rightly or wrongly god knows. but, whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth in the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would act rationally either in public or private life must have his eye fixed. i agree, he said, as far as i am able to understand you. moreover, i said, you must not wonder that those who attain to this beatific vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; for their souls are ever hastening into the upper world where they desire to dwell; which desire of theirs is very natural, if our allegory may be trusted. yes, very natural. and is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine contemplations to the evil state of man, misbehaving himself in a ridiculous manner; if, while his eyes are blinking and before he has become accustomed to the surrounding darkness, he is compelled to fight in courts of law, or in other places, about the images or the shadows of images of justice, and is endeavouring to meet the conceptions of those who have never yet seen absolute justice? anything but surprising, he replied. any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter life, and is unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. and he will count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from above out of the light into the den. that, he said, is a very just distinction. but then, if i am right, certain professors of education must be wrong when they say that they can put a knowledge into the soul which was not there before, like sight into blind eyes. they undoubtedly say this, he replied. whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of learning exists in the soul already; and that just as the eye was unable to turn from darkness to light without the whole body, so too the instrument of knowledge can only by the movement of the whole soul be turned from the world of becoming into that of being, and learn by degrees to endure the sight of being, and of the brightest and best of being, or in other words, of the good. very true. and must there not be some art which will effect conversion in the easiest and quickest manner; not implanting the faculty of sight, for that exists already, but has been turned in the wrong direction, and is looking away from the truth? yes, he said, such an art may be presumed. and whereas the other so-called virtues of the soul seem to be akin to bodily qualities, for even when they are not originally innate they can be implanted later by habit and exercise, the virtue of wisdom more than anything else contains a divine element which always remains, and by this conversion is rendered useful and profitable; or, on the other hand, hurtful and useless. did you never observe the narrow intelligence flashing from the keen eye of a clever rogue--how eager he is, how clearly his paltry soul sees the way to his end; he is the reverse of blind, but his keen eye-sight is forced into the service of evil, and he is mischievous in proportion to his cleverness? very true, he said. but what if there had been a circumcision of such natures in the days of their youth; and they had been severed from those sensual pleasures, such as eating and drinking, which, like leaden weights, were attached to them at their birth, and which drag them down and turn the vision of their souls upon the things that are below--if, i say, they had been released from these impediments and turned in the opposite direction, the very same faculty in them would have seen the truth as keenly as they see what their eyes are turned to now. very likely. yes, i said; and there is another thing which is likely, or rather a necessary inference from what has preceded, that neither the uneducated and uninformed of the truth, nor yet those who never make an end of their education, will be able ministers of state; not the former, because they have no single aim of duty which is the rule of all their actions, private as well as public; nor the latter, because they will not act at all except upon compulsion, fancying that they are already dwelling apart in the islands of the blest. very true, he replied. then, i said, the business of us who are the founders of the state will be to compel the best minds to attain that knowledge which we have already shown to be the greatest of all--they must continue to ascend until they arrive at the good; but when they have ascended and seen enough we must not allow them to do as they do now. what do you mean? i mean that they remain in the upper world: but this must not be allowed; they must be made to descend again among the prisoners in the den, and partake of their labours and honours, whether they are worth having or not. but is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give them a worse life, when they might have a better? you have again forgotten, my friend, i said, the intention of the legislator, who did not aim at making any one class in the state happy above the rest; the happiness was to be in the whole state, and he held the citizens together by persuasion and necessity, making them benefactors of the state, and therefore benefactors of one another; to this end he created them, not to please themselves, but to be his instruments in binding up the state. true, he said, i had forgotten. observe, glaucon, that there will be no injustice in compelling our philosophers to have a care and providence of others; we shall explain to them that in other states, men of their class are not obliged to share in the toils of politics: and this is reasonable, for they grow up at their own sweet will, and the government would rather not have them. being self-taught, they cannot be expected to show any gratitude for a culture which they have never received. but we have brought you into the world to be rulers of the hive, kings of yourselves and of the other citizens, and have educated you far better and more perfectly than they have been educated, and you are better able to share in the double duty. wherefore each of you, when his turn comes, must go down to the general underground abode, and get the habit of seeing in the dark. when you have acquired the habit, you will see ten thousand times better than the inhabitants of the den, and you will know what the several images are, and what they represent, because you have seen the beautiful and just and good in their truth. and thus our state, which is also yours, will be a reality, and not a dream only, and will be administered in a spirit unlike that of other states, in which men fight with one another about shadows only and are distracted in the struggle for power, which in their eyes is a great good. whereas the truth is that the state in which the rulers are most reluctant to govern is always the best and most quietly governed, and the state in which they are most eager, the worst. quite true, he replied. and will our pupils, when they hear this, refuse to take their turn at the toils of state, when they are allowed to spend the greater part of their time with one another in the heavenly light? impossible, he answered; for they are just men, and the commands which we impose upon them are just; there can be no doubt that every one of them will take office as a stern necessity, and not after the fashion of our present rulers of state. yes, my friend, i said; and there lies the point. you must contrive for your future rulers another and a better life than that of a ruler, and then you may have a well-ordered state; for only in the state which offers this, will they rule who are truly rich, not in silver and gold, but in virtue and wisdom, which are the true blessings of life. whereas if they go to the administration of public affairs, poor and hungering after their own private advantage, thinking that hence they are to snatch the chief good, order there can never be; for they will be fighting about office, and the civil and domestic broils which thus arise will be the ruin of the rulers themselves and of the whole state. most true, he replied. and the only life which looks down upon the life of political ambition is that of true philosophy. do you know of any other? indeed, i do not, he said. and those who govern ought not to be lovers of the task? for, if they are, there will be rival lovers, and they will fight. no question. who then are those whom we shall compel to be guardians? surely they will be the men who are wisest about affairs of state, and by whom the state is best administered, and who at the same time have other honours and another and a better life than that of politics? they are the men, and i will choose them, he replied. and now shall we consider in what way such guardians will be produced, and how they are to be brought from darkness to light,--as some are said to have ascended from the world below to the gods? by all means, he replied. the process, i said, is not the turning over of an oyster-shell (in allusion to a game in which two parties fled or pursued according as an oyster-shell which was thrown into the air fell with the dark or light side uppermost.), but the turning round of a soul passing from a day which is little better than night to the true day of being, that is, the ascent from below, which we affirm to be true philosophy? quite so. and should we not enquire what sort of knowledge has the power of effecting such a change? certainly. what sort of knowledge is there which would draw the soul from becoming to being? and another consideration has just occurred to me: you will remember that our young men are to be warrior athletes? yes, that was said. then this new kind of knowledge must have an additional quality? what quality? usefulness in war. yes, if possible. there were two parts in our former scheme of education, were there not? just so. there was gymnastic which presided over the growth and decay of the body, and may therefore be regarded as having to do with generation and corruption? true. then that is not the knowledge which we are seeking to discover? no. but what do you say of music, which also entered to a certain extent into our former scheme? music, he said, as you will remember, was the counterpart of gymnastic, and trained the guardians by the influences of habit, by harmony making them harmonious, by rhythm rhythmical, but not giving them science; and the words, whether fabulous or possibly true, had kindred elements of rhythm and harmony in them. but in music there was nothing which tended to that good which you are now seeking. you are most accurate, i said, in your recollection; in music there certainly was nothing of the kind. but what branch of knowledge is there, my dear glaucon, which is of the desired nature; since all the useful arts were reckoned mean by us? undoubtedly; and yet if music and gymnastic are excluded, and the arts are also excluded, what remains? well, i said, there may be nothing left of our special subjects; and then we shall have to take something which is not special, but of universal application. what may that be? a something which all arts and sciences and intelligences use in common, and which every one first has to learn among the elements of education. what is that? the little matter of distinguishing one, two, and three--in a word, number and calculation:--do not all arts and sciences necessarily partake of them? yes. then the art of war partakes of them? to be sure. then palamedes, whenever he appears in tragedy, proves agamemnon ridiculously unfit to be a general. did you never remark how he declares that he had invented number, and had numbered the ships and set in array the ranks of the army at troy; which implies that they had never been numbered before, and agamemnon must be supposed literally to have been incapable of counting his own feet--how could he if he was ignorant of number? and if that is true, what sort of general must he have been? i should say a very strange one, if this was as you say. can we deny that a warrior should have a knowledge of arithmetic? certainly he should, if he is to have the smallest understanding of military tactics, or indeed, i should rather say, if he is to be a man at all. i should like to know whether you have the same notion which i have of this study? what is your notion? it appears to me to be a study of the kind which we are seeking, and which leads naturally to reflection, but never to have been rightly used; for the true use of it is simply to draw the soul towards being. will you explain your meaning? he said. i will try, i said; and i wish you would share the enquiry with me, and say 'yes' or 'no' when i attempt to distinguish in my own mind what branches of knowledge have this attracting power, in order that we may have clearer proof that arithmetic is, as i suspect, one of them. explain, he said. i mean to say that objects of sense are of two kinds; some of them do not invite thought because the sense is an adequate judge of them; while in the case of other objects sense is so untrustworthy that further enquiry is imperatively demanded. you are clearly referring, he said, to the manner in which the senses are imposed upon by distance, and by painting in light and shade. no, i said, that is not at all my meaning. then what is your meaning? when speaking of uninviting objects, i mean those which do not pass from one sensation to the opposite; inviting objects are those which do; in this latter case the sense coming upon the object, whether at a distance or near, gives no more vivid idea of anything in particular than of its opposite. an illustration will make my meaning clearer:--here are three fingers--a little finger, a second finger, and a middle finger. very good. you may suppose that they are seen quite close: and here comes the point. what is it? each of them equally appears a finger, whether seen in the middle or at the extremity, whether white or black, or thick or thin--it makes no difference; a finger is a finger all the same. in these cases a man is not compelled to ask of thought the question what is a finger? for the sight never intimates to the mind that a finger is other than a finger. true. and therefore, i said, as we might expect, there is nothing here which invites or excites intelligence. there is not, he said. but is this equally true of the greatness and smallness of the fingers? can sight adequately perceive them? and is no difference made by the circumstance that one of the fingers is in the middle and another at the extremity? and in like manner does the touch adequately perceive the qualities of thickness or thinness, of softness or hardness? and so of the other senses; do they give perfect intimations of such matters? is not their mode of operation on this wise--the sense which is concerned with the quality of hardness is necessarily concerned also with the quality of softness, and only intimates to the soul that the same thing is felt to be both hard and soft? you are quite right, he said. and must not the soul be perplexed at this intimation which the sense gives of a hard which is also soft? what, again, is the meaning of light and heavy, if that which is light is also heavy, and that which is heavy, light? yes, he said, these intimations which the soul receives are very curious and require to be explained. yes, i said, and in these perplexities the soul naturally summons to her aid calculation and intelligence, that she may see whether the several objects announced to her are one or two. true. and if they turn out to be two, is not each of them one and different? certainly. and if each is one, and both are two, she will conceive the two as in a state of division, for if there were undivided they could only be conceived of as one? true. the eye certainly did see both small and great, but only in a confused manner; they were not distinguished. yes. whereas the thinking mind, intending to light up the chaos, was compelled to reverse the process, and look at small and great as separate and not confused. very true. was not this the beginning of the enquiry 'what is great?' and 'what is small?' exactly so. and thus arose the distinction of the visible and the intelligible. most true. this was what i meant when i spoke of impressions which invited the intellect, or the reverse--those which are simultaneous with opposite impressions, invite thought; those which are not simultaneous do not. i understand, he said, and agree with you. and to which class do unity and number belong? i do not know, he replied. think a little and you will see that what has preceded will supply the answer; for if simple unity could be adequately perceived by the sight or by any other sense, then, as we were saying in the case of the finger, there would be nothing to attract towards being; but when there is some contradiction always present, and one is the reverse of one and involves the conception of plurality, then thought begins to be aroused within us, and the soul perplexed and wanting to arrive at a decision asks 'what is absolute unity?' this is the way in which the study of the one has a power of drawing and converting the mind to the contemplation of true being. and surely, he said, this occurs notably in the case of one; for we see the same thing to be both one and infinite in multitude? yes, i said; and this being true of one must be equally true of all number? certainly. and all arithmetic and calculation have to do with number? yes. and they appear to lead the mind towards truth? yes, in a very remarkable manner. then this is knowledge of the kind for which we are seeking, having a double use, military and philosophical; for the man of war must learn the art of number or he will not know how to array his troops, and the philosopher also, because he has to rise out of the sea of change and lay hold of true being, and therefore he must be an arithmetician. that is true. and our guardian is both warrior and philosopher? certainly. then this is a kind of knowledge which legislation may fitly prescribe; and we must endeavour to persuade those who are to be the principal men of our state to go and learn arithmetic, not as amateurs, but they must carry on the study until they see the nature of numbers with the mind only; nor again, like merchants or retail-traders, with a view to buying or selling, but for the sake of their military use, and of the soul herself; and because this will be the easiest way for her to pass from becoming to truth and being. that is excellent, he said. yes, i said, and now having spoken of it, i must add how charming the science is! and in how many ways it conduces to our desired end, if pursued in the spirit of a philosopher, and not of a shopkeeper! how do you mean? i mean, as i was saying, that arithmetic has a very great and elevating effect, compelling the soul to reason about abstract number, and rebelling against the introduction of visible or tangible objects into the argument. you know how steadily the masters of the art repel and ridicule any one who attempts to divide absolute unity when he is calculating, and if you divide, they multiply (meaning either ( ) that they integrate the number because they deny the possibility of fractions; or ( ) that division is regarded by them as a process of multiplication, for the fractions of one continue to be units.), taking care that one shall continue one and not become lost in fractions. that is very true. now, suppose a person were to say to them: o my friends, what are these wonderful numbers about which you are reasoning, in which, as you say, there is a unity such as you demand, and each unit is equal, invariable, indivisible,--what would they answer? they would answer, as i should conceive, that they were speaking of those numbers which can only be realized in thought. then you see that this knowledge may be truly called necessary, necessitating as it clearly does the use of the pure intelligence in the attainment of pure truth? yes; that is a marked characteristic of it. and have you further observed, that those who have a natural talent for calculation are generally quick at every other kind of knowledge; and even the dull, if they have had an arithmetical training, although they may derive no other advantage from it, always become much quicker than they would otherwise have been. very true, he said. and indeed, you will not easily find a more difficult study, and not many as difficult. you will not. and, for all these reasons, arithmetic is a kind of knowledge in which the best natures should be trained, and which must not be given up. i agree. let this then be made one of our subjects of education. and next, shall we enquire whether the kindred science also concerns us? you mean geometry? exactly so. clearly, he said, we are concerned with that part of geometry which relates to war; for in pitching a camp, or taking up a position, or closing or extending the lines of an army, or any other military manoeuvre, whether in actual battle or on a march, it will make all the difference whether a general is or is not a geometrician. yes, i said, but for that purpose a very little of either geometry or calculation will be enough; the question relates rather to the greater and more advanced part of geometry--whether that tends in any degree to make more easy the vision of the idea of good; and thither, as i was saying, all things tend which compel the soul to turn her gaze towards that place, where is the full perfection of being, which she ought, by all means, to behold. true, he said. then if geometry compels us to view being, it concerns us; if becoming only, it does not concern us? yes, that is what we assert. yet anybody who has the least acquaintance with geometry will not deny that such a conception of the science is in flat contradiction to the ordinary language of geometricians. how so? they have in view practice only, and are always speaking, in a narrow and ridiculous manner, of squaring and extending and applying and the like--they confuse the necessities of geometry with those of daily life; whereas knowledge is the real object of the whole science. certainly, he said. then must not a further admission be made? what admission? that the knowledge at which geometry aims is knowledge of the eternal, and not of aught perishing and transient. that, he replied, may be readily allowed, and is true. then, my noble friend, geometry will draw the soul towards truth, and create the spirit of philosophy, and raise up that which is now unhappily allowed to fall down. nothing will be more likely to have such an effect. then nothing should be more sternly laid down than that the inhabitants of your fair city should by all means learn geometry. moreover the science has indirect effects, which are not small. of what kind? he said. there are the military advantages of which you spoke, i said; and in all departments of knowledge, as experience proves, any one who has studied geometry is infinitely quicker of apprehension than one who has not. yes indeed, he said, there is an infinite difference between them. then shall we propose this as a second branch of knowledge which our youth will study? let us do so, he replied. and suppose we make astronomy the third--what do you say? i am strongly inclined to it, he said; the observation of the seasons and of months and years is as essential to the general as it is to the farmer or sailor. i am amused, i said, at your fear of the world, which makes you guard against the appearance of insisting upon useless studies; and i quite admit the difficulty of believing that in every man there is an eye of the soul which, when by other pursuits lost and dimmed, is by these purified and re-illumined; and is more precious far than ten thousand bodily eyes, for by it alone is truth seen. now there are two classes of persons: one class of those who will agree with you and will take your words as a revelation; another class to whom they will be utterly unmeaning, and who will naturally deem them to be idle tales, for they see no sort of profit which is to be obtained from them. and therefore you had better decide at once with which of the two you are proposing to argue. you will very likely say with neither, and that your chief aim in carrying on the argument is your own improvement; at the same time you do not grudge to others any benefit which they may receive. i think that i should prefer to carry on the argument mainly on my own behalf. then take a step backward, for we have gone wrong in the order of the sciences. what was the mistake? he said. after plane geometry, i said, we proceeded at once to solids in revolution, instead of taking solids in themselves; whereas after the second dimension the third, which is concerned with cubes and dimensions of depth, ought to have followed. that is true, socrates; but so little seems to be known as yet about these subjects. why, yes, i said, and for two reasons:--in the first place, no government patronises them; this leads to a want of energy in the pursuit of them, and they are difficult; in the second place, students cannot learn them unless they have a director. but then a director can hardly be found, and even if he could, as matters now stand, the students, who are very conceited, would not attend to him. that, however, would be otherwise if the whole state became the director of these studies and gave honour to them; then disciples would want to come, and there would be continuous and earnest search, and discoveries would be made; since even now, disregarded as they are by the world, and maimed of their fair proportions, and although none of their votaries can tell the use of them, still these studies force their way by their natural charm, and very likely, if they had the help of the state, they would some day emerge into light. yes, he said, there is a remarkable charm in them. but i do not clearly understand the change in the order. first you began with a geometry of plane surfaces? yes, i said. and you placed astronomy next, and then you made a step backward? yes, and i have delayed you by my hurry; the ludicrous state of solid geometry, which, in natural order, should have followed, made me pass over this branch and go on to astronomy, or motion of solids. true, he said. then assuming that the science now omitted would come into existence if encouraged by the state, let us go on to astronomy, which will be fourth. the right order, he replied. and now, socrates, as you rebuked the vulgar manner in which i praised astronomy before, my praise shall be given in your own spirit. for every one, as i think, must see that astronomy compels the soul to look upwards and leads us from this world to another. every one but myself, i said; to every one else this may be clear, but not to me. and what then would you say? i should rather say that those who elevate astronomy into philosophy appear to me to make us look downwards and not upwards. what do you mean? he asked. you, i replied, have in your mind a truly sublime conception of our knowledge of the things above. and i dare say that if a person were to throw his head back and study the fretted ceiling, you would still think that his mind was the percipient, and not his eyes. and you are very likely right, and i may be a simpleton: but, in my opinion, that knowledge only which is of being and of the unseen can make the soul look upwards, and whether a man gapes at the heavens or blinks on the ground, seeking to learn some particular of sense, i would deny that he can learn, for nothing of that sort is matter of science; his soul is looking downwards, not upwards, whether his way to knowledge is by water or by land, whether he floats, or only lies on his back. i acknowledge, he said, the justice of your rebuke. still, i should like to ascertain how astronomy can be learned in any manner more conducive to that knowledge of which we are speaking? i will tell you, i said: the starry heaven which we behold is wrought upon a visible ground, and therefore, although the fairest and most perfect of visible things, must necessarily be deemed inferior far to the true motions of absolute swiftness and absolute slowness, which are relative to each other, and carry with them that which is contained in them, in the true number and in every true figure. now, these are to be apprehended by reason and intelligence, but not by sight. true, he replied. the spangled heavens should be used as a pattern and with a view to that higher knowledge; their beauty is like the beauty of figures or pictures excellently wrought by the hand of daedalus, or some other great artist, which we may chance to behold; any geometrician who saw them would appreciate the exquisiteness of their workmanship, but he would never dream of thinking that in them he could find the true equal or the true double, or the truth of any other proportion. no, he replied, such an idea would be ridiculous. and will not a true astronomer have the same feeling when he looks at the movements of the stars? will he not think that heaven and the things in heaven are framed by the creator of them in the most perfect manner? but he will never imagine that the proportions of night and day, or of both to the month, or of the month to the year, or of the stars to these and to one another, and any other things that are material and visible can also be eternal and subject to no deviation--that would be absurd; and it is equally absurd to take so much pains in investigating their exact truth. i quite agree, though i never thought of this before. then, i said, in astronomy, as in geometry, we should employ problems, and let the heavens alone if we would approach the subject in the right way and so make the natural gift of reason to be of any real use. that, he said, is a work infinitely beyond our present astronomers. yes, i said; and there are many other things which must also have a similar extension given to them, if our legislation is to be of any value. but can you tell me of any other suitable study? no, he said, not without thinking. motion, i said, has many forms, and not one only; two of them are obvious enough even to wits no better than ours; and there are others, as i imagine, which may be left to wiser persons. but where are the two? there is a second, i said, which is the counterpart of the one already named. and what may that be? the second, i said, would seem relatively to the ears to be what the first is to the eyes; for i conceive that as the eyes are designed to look up at the stars, so are the ears to hear harmonious motions; and these are sister sciences--as the pythagoreans say, and we, glaucon, agree with them? yes, he replied. but this, i said, is a laborious study, and therefore we had better go and learn of them; and they will tell us whether there are any other applications of these sciences. at the same time, we must not lose sight of our own higher object. what is that? there is a perfection which all knowledge ought to reach, and which our pupils ought also to attain, and not to fall short of, as i was saying that they did in astronomy. for in the science of harmony, as you probably know, the same thing happens. the teachers of harmony compare the sounds and consonances which are heard only, and their labour, like that of the astronomers, is in vain. yes, by heaven! he said; and 'tis as good as a play to hear them talking about their condensed notes, as they call them; they put their ears close alongside of the strings like persons catching a sound from their neighbour's wall--one set of them declaring that they distinguish an intermediate note and have found the least interval which should be the unit of measurement; the others insisting that the two sounds have passed into the same--either party setting their ears before their understanding. you mean, i said, those gentlemen who tease and torture the strings and rack them on the pegs of the instrument: i might carry on the metaphor and speak after their manner of the blows which the plectrum gives, and make accusations against the strings, both of backwardness and forwardness to sound; but this would be tedious, and therefore i will only say that these are not the men, and that i am referring to the pythagoreans, of whom i was just now proposing to enquire about harmony. for they too are in error, like the astronomers; they investigate the numbers of the harmonies which are heard, but they never attain to problems--that is to say, they never reach the natural harmonies of number, or reflect why some numbers are harmonious and others not. that, he said, is a thing of more than mortal knowledge. a thing, i replied, which i would rather call useful; that is, if sought after with a view to the beautiful and good; but if pursued in any other spirit, useless. very true, he said. now, when all these studies reach the point of inter-communion and connection with one another, and come to be considered in their mutual affinities, then, i think, but not till then, will the pursuit of them have a value for our objects; otherwise there is no profit in them. i suspect so; but you are speaking, socrates, of a vast work. what do you mean? i said; the prelude or what? do you not know that all this is but the prelude to the actual strain which we have to learn? for you surely would not regard the skilled mathematician as a dialectician? assuredly not, he said; i have hardly ever known a mathematician who was capable of reasoning. but do you imagine that men who are unable to give and take a reason will have the knowledge which we require of them? neither can this be supposed. and so, glaucon, i said, we have at last arrived at the hymn of dialectic. this is that strain which is of the intellect only, but which the faculty of sight will nevertheless be found to imitate; for sight, as you may remember, was imagined by us after a while to behold the real animals and stars, and last of all the sun himself. and so with dialectic; when a person starts on the discovery of the absolute by the light of reason only, and without any assistance of sense, and perseveres until by pure intelligence he arrives at the perception of the absolute good, he at last finds himself at the end of the intellectual world, as in the case of sight at the end of the visible. exactly, he said. then this is the progress which you call dialectic? true. but the release of the prisoners from chains, and their translation from the shadows to the images and to the light, and the ascent from the underground den to the sun, while in his presence they are vainly trying to look on animals and plants and the light of the sun, but are able to perceive even with their weak eyes the images in the water (which are divine), and are the shadows of true existence (not shadows of images cast by a light of fire, which compared with the sun is only an image)--this power of elevating the highest principle in the soul to the contemplation of that which is best in existence, with which we may compare the raising of that faculty which is the very light of the body to the sight of that which is brightest in the material and visible world--this power is given, as i was saying, by all that study and pursuit of the arts which has been described. i agree in what you are saying, he replied, which may be hard to believe, yet, from another point of view, is harder still to deny. this, however, is not a theme to be treated of in passing only, but will have to be discussed again and again. and so, whether our conclusion be true or false, let us assume all this, and proceed at once from the prelude or preamble to the chief strain (a play upon the greek word, which means both 'law' and 'strain.'), and describe that in like manner. say, then, what is the nature and what are the divisions of dialectic, and what are the paths which lead thither; for these paths will also lead to our final rest. dear glaucon, i said, you will not be able to follow me here, though i would do my best, and you should behold not an image only but the absolute truth, according to my notion. whether what i told you would or would not have been a reality i cannot venture to say; but you would have seen something like reality; of that i am confident. doubtless, he replied. but i must also remind you, that the power of dialectic alone can reveal this, and only to one who is a disciple of the previous sciences. of that assertion you may be as confident as of the last. and assuredly no one will argue that there is any other method of comprehending by any regular process all true existence or of ascertaining what each thing is in its own nature; for the arts in general are concerned with the desires or opinions of men, or are cultivated with a view to production and construction, or for the preservation of such productions and constructions; and as to the mathematical sciences which, as we were saying, have some apprehension of true being--geometry and the like--they only dream about being, but never can they behold the waking reality so long as they leave the hypotheses which they use unexamined, and are unable to give an account of them. for when a man knows not his own first principle, and when the conclusion and intermediate steps are also constructed out of he knows not what, how can he imagine that such a fabric of convention can ever become science? impossible, he said. then dialectic, and dialectic alone, goes directly to the first principle and is the only science which does away with hypotheses in order to make her ground secure; the eye of the soul, which is literally buried in an outlandish slough, is by her gentle aid lifted upwards; and she uses as handmaids and helpers in the work of conversion, the sciences which we have been discussing. custom terms them sciences, but they ought to have some other name, implying greater clearness than opinion and less clearness than science: and this, in our previous sketch, was called understanding. but why should we dispute about names when we have realities of such importance to consider? why indeed, he said, when any name will do which expresses the thought of the mind with clearness? at any rate, we are satisfied, as before, to have four divisions; two for intellect and two for opinion, and to call the first division science, the second understanding, the third belief, and the fourth perception of shadows, opinion being concerned with becoming, and intellect with being; and so to make a proportion:-- as being is to becoming, so is pure intellect to opinion. and as intellect is to opinion, so is science to belief, and understanding to the perception of shadows. but let us defer the further correlation and subdivision of the subjects of opinion and of intellect, for it will be a long enquiry, many times longer than this has been. as far as i understand, he said, i agree. and do you also agree, i said, in describing the dialectician as one who attains a conception of the essence of each thing? and he who does not possess and is therefore unable to impart this conception, in whatever degree he fails, may in that degree also be said to fail in intelligence? will you admit so much? yes, he said; how can i deny it? and you would say the same of the conception of the good? until the person is able to abstract and define rationally the idea of good, and unless he can run the gauntlet of all objections, and is ready to disprove them, not by appeals to opinion, but to absolute truth, never faltering at any step of the argument--unless he can do all this, you would say that he knows neither the idea of good nor any other good; he apprehends only a shadow, if anything at all, which is given by opinion and not by science;--dreaming and slumbering in this life, before he is well awake here, he arrives at the world below, and has his final quietus. in all that i should most certainly agree with you. and surely you would not have the children of your ideal state, whom you are nurturing and educating--if the ideal ever becomes a reality--you would not allow the future rulers to be like posts (literally 'lines,' probably the starting-point of a race-course.), having no reason in them, and yet to be set in authority over the highest matters? certainly not. then you will make a law that they shall have such an education as will enable them to attain the greatest skill in asking and answering questions? yes, he said, you and i together will make it. dialectic, then, as you will agree, is the coping-stone of the sciences, and is set over them; no other science can be placed higher--the nature of knowledge can no further go? i agree, he said. but to whom we are to assign these studies, and in what way they are to be assigned, are questions which remain to be considered. yes, clearly. you remember, i said, how the rulers were chosen before? certainly, he said. the same natures must still be chosen, and the preference again given to the surest and the bravest, and, if possible, to the fairest; and, having noble and generous tempers, they should also have the natural gifts which will facilitate their education. and what are these? such gifts as keenness and ready powers of acquisition; for the mind more often faints from the severity of study than from the severity of gymnastics: the toil is more entirely the mind's own, and is not shared with the body. very true, he replied. further, he of whom we are in search should have a good memory, and be an unwearied solid man who is a lover of labour in any line; or he will never be able to endure the great amount of bodily exercise and to go through all the intellectual discipline and study which we require of him. certainly, he said; he must have natural gifts. the mistake at present is, that those who study philosophy have no vocation, and this, as i was before saying, is the reason why she has fallen into disrepute: her true sons should take her by the hand and not bastards. what do you mean? in the first place, her votary should not have a lame or halting industry--i mean, that he should not be half industrious and half idle: as, for example, when a man is a lover of gymnastic and hunting, and all other bodily exercises, but a hater rather than a lover of the labour of learning or listening or enquiring. or the occupation to which he devotes himself may be of an opposite kind, and he may have the other sort of lameness. certainly, he said. and as to truth, i said, is not a soul equally to be deemed halt and lame which hates voluntary falsehood and is extremely indignant at herself and others when they tell lies, but is patient of involuntary falsehood, and does not mind wallowing like a swinish beast in the mire of ignorance, and has no shame at being detected? to be sure. and, again, in respect of temperance, courage, magnificence, and every other virtue, should we not carefully distinguish between the true son and the bastard? for where there is no discernment of such qualities states and individuals unconsciously err; and the state makes a ruler, and the individual a friend, of one who, being defective in some part of virtue, is in a figure lame or a bastard. that is very true, he said. all these things, then, will have to be carefully considered by us; and if only those whom we introduce to this vast system of education and training are sound in body and mind, justice herself will have nothing to say against us, and we shall be the saviours of the constitution and of the state; but, if our pupils are men of another stamp, the reverse will happen, and we shall pour a still greater flood of ridicule on philosophy than she has to endure at present. that would not be creditable. certainly not, i said; and yet perhaps, in thus turning jest into earnest i am equally ridiculous. in what respect? i had forgotten, i said, that we were not serious, and spoke with too much excitement. for when i saw philosophy so undeservedly trampled under foot of men i could not help feeling a sort of indignation at the authors of her disgrace: and my anger made me too vehement. indeed! i was listening, and did not think so. but i, who am the speaker, felt that i was. and now let me remind you that, although in our former selection we chose old men, we must not do so in this. solon was under a delusion when he said that a man when he grows old may learn many things--for he can no more learn much than he can run much; youth is the time for any extraordinary toil. of course. and, therefore, calculation and geometry and all the other elements of instruction, which are a preparation for dialectic, should be presented to the mind in childhood; not, however, under any notion of forcing our system of education. why not? because a freeman ought not to be a slave in the acquisition of knowledge of any kind. bodily exercise, when compulsory, does no harm to the body; but knowledge which is acquired under compulsion obtains no hold on the mind. very true. then, my good friend, i said, do not use compulsion, but let early education be a sort of amusement; you will then be better able to find out the natural bent. that is a very rational notion, he said. do you remember that the children, too, were to be taken to see the battle on horseback; and that if there were no danger they were to be brought close up and, like young hounds, have a taste of blood given them? yes, i remember. the same practice may be followed, i said, in all these things--labours, lessons, dangers--and he who is most at home in all of them ought to be enrolled in a select number. at what age? at the age when the necessary gymnastics are over: the period whether of two or three years which passes in this sort of training is useless for any other purpose; for sleep and exercise are unpropitious to learning; and the trial of who is first in gymnastic exercises is one of the most important tests to which our youth are subjected. certainly, he replied. after that time those who are selected from the class of twenty years old will be promoted to higher honour, and the sciences which they learned without any order in their early education will now be brought together, and they will be able to see the natural relationship of them to one another and to true being. yes, he said, that is the only kind of knowledge which takes lasting root. yes, i said; and the capacity for such knowledge is the great criterion of dialectical talent: the comprehensive mind is always the dialectical. i agree with you, he said. these, i said, are the points which you must consider; and those who have most of this comprehension, and who are most steadfast in their learning, and in their military and other appointed duties, when they have arrived at the age of thirty have to be chosen by you out of the select class, and elevated to higher honour; and you will have to prove them by the help of dialectic, in order to learn which of them is able to give up the use of sight and the other senses, and in company with truth to attain absolute being: and here, my friend, great caution is required. why great caution? do you not remark, i said, how great is the evil which dialectic has introduced? what evil? he said. the students of the art are filled with lawlessness. quite true, he said. do you think that there is anything so very unnatural or inexcusable in their case? or will you make allowance for them? in what way make allowance? i want you, i said, by way of parallel, to imagine a supposititious son who is brought up in great wealth; he is one of a great and numerous family, and has many flatterers. when he grows up to manhood, he learns that his alleged are not his real parents; but who the real are he is unable to discover. can you guess how he will be likely to behave towards his flatterers and his supposed parents, first of all during the period when he is ignorant of the false relation, and then again when he knows? or shall i guess for you? if you please. then i should say, that while he is ignorant of the truth he will be likely to honour his father and his mother and his supposed relations more than the flatterers; he will be less inclined to neglect them when in need, or to do or say anything against them; and he will be less willing to disobey them in any important matter. he will. but when he has made the discovery, i should imagine that he would diminish his honour and regard for them, and would become more devoted to the flatterers; their influence over him would greatly increase; he would now live after their ways, and openly associate with them, and, unless he were of an unusually good disposition, he would trouble himself no more about his supposed parents or other relations. well, all that is very probable. but how is the image applicable to the disciples of philosophy? in this way: you know that there are certain principles about justice and honour, which were taught us in childhood, and under their parental authority we have been brought up, obeying and honouring them. that is true. there are also opposite maxims and habits of pleasure which flatter and attract the soul, but do not influence those of us who have any sense of right, and they continue to obey and honour the maxims of their fathers. true. now, when a man is in this state, and the questioning spirit asks what is fair or honourable, and he answers as the legislator has taught him, and then arguments many and diverse refute his words, until he is driven into believing that nothing is honourable any more than dishonourable, or just and good any more than the reverse, and so of all the notions which he most valued, do you think that he will still honour and obey them as before? impossible. and when he ceases to think them honourable and natural as heretofore, and he fails to discover the true, can he be expected to pursue any life other than that which flatters his desires? he cannot. and from being a keeper of the law he is converted into a breaker of it? unquestionably. now all this is very natural in students of philosophy such as i have described, and also, as i was just now saying, most excusable. yes, he said; and, i may add, pitiable. therefore, that your feelings may not be moved to pity about our citizens who are now thirty years of age, every care must be taken in introducing them to dialectic. certainly. there is a danger lest they should taste the dear delight too early; for youngsters, as you may have observed, when they first get the taste in their mouths, argue for amusement, and are always contradicting and refuting others in imitation of those who refute them; like puppy-dogs, they rejoice in pulling and tearing at all who come near them. yes, he said, there is nothing which they like better. and when they have made many conquests and received defeats at the hands of many, they violently and speedily get into a way of not believing anything which they believed before, and hence, not only they, but philosophy and all that relates to it is apt to have a bad name with the rest of the world. too true, he said. but when a man begins to get older, he will no longer be guilty of such insanity; he will imitate the dialectician who is seeking for truth, and not the eristic, who is contradicting for the sake of amusement; and the greater moderation of his character will increase instead of diminishing the honour of the pursuit. very true, he said. and did we not make special provision for this, when we said that the disciples of philosophy were to be orderly and steadfast, not, as now, any chance aspirant or intruder? very true. suppose, i said, the study of philosophy to take the place of gymnastics and to be continued diligently and earnestly and exclusively for twice the number of years which were passed in bodily exercise--will that be enough? would you say six or four years? he asked. say five years, i replied; at the end of the time they must be sent down again into the den and compelled to hold any military or other office which young men are qualified to hold: in this way they will get their experience of life, and there will be an opportunity of trying whether, when they are drawn all manner of ways by temptation, they will stand firm or flinch. and how long is this stage of their lives to last? fifteen years, i answered; and when they have reached fifty years of age, then let those who still survive and have distinguished themselves in every action of their lives and in every branch of knowledge come at last to their consummation: the time has now arrived at which they must raise the eye of the soul to the universal light which lightens all things, and behold the absolute good; for that is the pattern according to which they are to order the state and the lives of individuals, and the remainder of their own lives also; making philosophy their chief pursuit, but, when their turn comes, toiling also at politics and ruling for the public good, not as though they were performing some heroic action, but simply as a matter of duty; and when they have brought up in each generation others like themselves and left them in their place to be governors of the state, then they will depart to the islands of the blest and dwell there; and the city will give them public memorials and sacrifices and honour them, if the pythian oracle consent, as demigods, but if not, as in any case blessed and divine. you are a sculptor, socrates, and have made statues of our governors faultless in beauty. yes, i said, glaucon, and of our governesses too; for you must not suppose that what i have been saying applies to men only and not to women as far as their natures can go. there you are right, he said, since we have made them to share in all things like the men. well, i said, and you would agree (would you not?) that what has been said about the state and the government is not a mere dream, and although difficult not impossible, but only possible in the way which has been supposed; that is to say, when the true philosopher kings are born in a state, one or more of them, despising the honours of this present world which they deem mean and worthless, esteeming above all things right and the honour that springs from right, and regarding justice as the greatest and most necessary of all things, whose ministers they are, and whose principles will be exalted by them when they set in order their own city? how will they proceed? they will begin by sending out into the country all the inhabitants of the city who are more than ten years old, and will take possession of their children, who will be unaffected by the habits of their parents; these they will train in their own habits and laws, i mean in the laws which we have given them: and in this way the state and constitution of which we were speaking will soonest and most easily attain happiness, and the nation which has such a constitution will gain most. yes, that will be the best way. and i think, socrates, that you have very well described how, if ever, such a constitution might come into being. enough then of the perfect state, and of the man who bears its image--there is no difficulty in seeing how we shall describe him. there is no difficulty, he replied; and i agree with you in thinking that nothing more need be said. book viii. and so, glaucon, we have arrived at the conclusion that in the perfect state wives and children are to be in common; and that all education and the pursuits of war and peace are also to be common, and the best philosophers and the bravest warriors are to be their kings? that, replied glaucon, has been acknowledged. yes, i said; and we have further acknowledged that the governors, when appointed themselves, will take their soldiers and place them in houses such as we were describing, which are common to all, and contain nothing private, or individual; and about their property, you remember what we agreed? yes, i remember that no one was to have any of the ordinary possessions of mankind; they were to be warrior athletes and guardians, receiving from the other citizens, in lieu of annual payment, only their maintenance, and they were to take care of themselves and of the whole state. true, i said; and now that this division of our task is concluded, let us find the point at which we digressed, that we may return into the old path. there is no difficulty in returning; you implied, then as now, that you had finished the description of the state: you said that such a state was good, and that the man was good who answered to it, although, as now appears, you had more excellent things to relate both of state and man. and you said further, that if this was the true form, then the others were false; and of the false forms, you said, as i remember, that there were four principal ones, and that their defects, and the defects of the individuals corresponding to them, were worth examining. when we had seen all the individuals, and finally agreed as to who was the best and who was the worst of them, we were to consider whether the best was not also the happiest, and the worst the most miserable. i asked you what were the four forms of government of which you spoke, and then polemarchus and adeimantus put in their word; and you began again, and have found your way to the point at which we have now arrived. your recollection, i said, is most exact. then, like a wrestler, he replied, you must put yourself again in the same position; and let me ask the same questions, and do you give me the same answer which you were about to give me then. yes, if i can, i will, i said. i shall particularly wish to hear what were the four constitutions of which you were speaking. that question, i said, is easily answered: the four governments of which i spoke, so far as they have distinct names, are, first, those of crete and sparta, which are generally applauded; what is termed oligarchy comes next; this is not equally approved, and is a form of government which teems with evils: thirdly, democracy, which naturally follows oligarchy, although very different: and lastly comes tyranny, great and famous, which differs from them all, and is the fourth and worst disorder of a state. i do not know, do you? of any other constitution which can be said to have a distinct character. there are lordships and principalities which are bought and sold, and some other intermediate forms of government. but these are nondescripts and may be found equally among hellenes and among barbarians. yes, he replied, we certainly hear of many curious forms of government which exist among them. do you know, i said, that governments vary as the dispositions of men vary, and that there must be as many of the one as there are of the other? for we cannot suppose that states are made of 'oak and rock,' and not out of the human natures which are in them, and which in a figure turn the scale and draw other things after them? yes, he said, the states are as the men are; they grow out of human characters. then if the constitutions of states are five, the dispositions of individual minds will also be five? certainly. him who answers to aristocracy, and whom we rightly call just and good, we have already described. we have. then let us now proceed to describe the inferior sort of natures, being the contentious and ambitious, who answer to the spartan polity; also the oligarchical, democratical, and tyrannical. let us place the most just by the side of the most unjust, and when we see them we shall be able to compare the relative happiness or unhappiness of him who leads a life of pure justice or pure injustice. the enquiry will then be completed. and we shall know whether we ought to pursue injustice, as thrasymachus advises, or in accordance with the conclusions of the argument to prefer justice. certainly, he replied, we must do as you say. shall we follow our old plan, which we adopted with a view to clearness, of taking the state first and then proceeding to the individual, and begin with the government of honour?--i know of no name for such a government other than timocracy, or perhaps timarchy. we will compare with this the like character in the individual; and, after that, consider oligarchy and the oligarchical man; and then again we will turn our attention to democracy and the democratical man; and lastly, we will go and view the city of tyranny, and once more take a look into the tyrant's soul, and try to arrive at a satisfactory decision. that way of viewing and judging of the matter will be very suitable. first, then, i said, let us enquire how timocracy (the government of honour) arises out of aristocracy (the government of the best). clearly, all political changes originate in divisions of the actual governing power; a government which is united, however small, cannot be moved. very true, he said. in what way, then, will our city be moved, and in what manner will the two classes of auxiliaries and rulers disagree among themselves or with one another? shall we, after the manner of homer, pray the muses to tell us 'how discord first arose'? shall we imagine them in solemn mockery, to play and jest with us as if we were children, and to address us in a lofty tragic vein, making believe to be in earnest? how would they address us? after this manner:--a city which is thus constituted can hardly be shaken; but, seeing that everything which has a beginning has also an end, even a constitution such as yours will not last for ever, but will in time be dissolved. and this is the dissolution:--in plants that grow in the earth, as well as in animals that move on the earth's surface, fertility and sterility of soul and body occur when the circumferences of the circles of each are completed, which in short-lived existences pass over a short space, and in long-lived ones over a long space. but to the knowledge of human fecundity and sterility all the wisdom and education of your rulers will not attain; the laws which regulate them will not be discovered by an intelligence which is alloyed with sense, but will escape them, and they will bring children into the world when they ought not. now that which is of divine birth has a period which is contained in a perfect number (i.e. a cyclical number, such as , which is equal to the sum of its divisors , , , so that when the circle or time represented by is completed, the lesser times or rotations represented by , , are also completed.), but the period of human birth is comprehended in a number in which first increments by involution and evolution (or squared and cubed) obtaining three intervals and four terms of like and unlike, waxing and waning numbers, make all the terms commensurable and agreeable to one another. (probably the numbers , , , of which the three first = the sides of the pythagorean triangle. the terms will then be cubed, cubed, cubed, which together = cubed = .) the base of these ( ) with a third added ( ) when combined with five ( ) and raised to the third power furnishes two harmonies; the first a square which is a hundred times as great ( = x ) (or the first a square which is x = , . the whole number will then be , = a square of , and an oblong of by .), and the other a figure having one side equal to the former, but oblong, consisting of a hundred numbers squared upon rational diameters of a square (i.e. omitting fractions), the side of which is five ( x = x = ), each of them being less by one (than the perfect square which includes the fractions, sc. ) or less by (or, 'consisting of two numbers squared upon irrational diameters,' etc. = . for other explanations of the passage see introduction.) two perfect squares of irrational diameters (of a square the side of which is five = + = ); and a hundred cubes of three ( x = + + = ). now this number represents a geometrical figure which has control over the good and evil of births. for when your guardians are ignorant of the law of births, and unite bride and bridegroom out of season, the children will not be goodly or fortunate. and though only the best of them will be appointed by their predecessors, still they will be unworthy to hold their fathers' places, and when they come into power as guardians, they will soon be found to fail in taking care of us, the muses, first by under-valuing music; which neglect will soon extend to gymnastic; and hence the young men of your state will be less cultivated. in the succeeding generation rulers will be appointed who have lost the guardian power of testing the metal of your different races, which, like hesiod's, are of gold and silver and brass and iron. and so iron will be mingled with silver, and brass with gold, and hence there will arise dissimilarity and inequality and irregularity, which always and in all places are causes of hatred and war. this the muses affirm to be the stock from which discord has sprung, wherever arising; and this is their answer to us. yes, and we may assume that they answer truly. why, yes, i said, of course they answer truly; how can the muses speak falsely? and what do the muses say next? when discord arose, then the two races were drawn different ways: the iron and brass fell to acquiring money and land and houses and gold and silver; but the gold and silver races, not wanting money but having the true riches in their own nature, inclined towards virtue and the ancient order of things. there was a battle between them, and at last they agreed to distribute their land and houses among individual owners; and they enslaved their friends and maintainers, whom they had formerly protected in the condition of freemen, and made of them subjects and servants; and they themselves were engaged in war and in keeping a watch against them. i believe that you have rightly conceived the origin of the change. and the new government which thus arises will be of a form intermediate between oligarchy and aristocracy? very true. such will be the change, and after the change has been made, how will they proceed? clearly, the new state, being in a mean between oligarchy and the perfect state, will partly follow one and partly the other, and will also have some peculiarities. true, he said. in the honour given to rulers, in the abstinence of the warrior class from agriculture, handicrafts, and trade in general, in the institution of common meals, and in the attention paid to gymnastics and military training--in all these respects this state will resemble the former. true. but in the fear of admitting philosophers to power, because they are no longer to be had simple and earnest, but are made up of mixed elements; and in turning from them to passionate and less complex characters, who are by nature fitted for war rather than peace; and in the value set by them upon military stratagems and contrivances, and in the waging of everlasting wars--this state will be for the most part peculiar. yes. yes, i said; and men of this stamp will be covetous of money, like those who live in oligarchies; they will have, a fierce secret longing after gold and silver, which they will hoard in dark places, having magazines and treasuries of their own for the deposit and concealment of them; also castles which are just nests for their eggs, and in which they will spend large sums on their wives, or on any others whom they please. that is most true, he said. and they are miserly because they have no means of openly acquiring the money which they prize; they will spend that which is another man's on the gratification of their desires, stealing their pleasures and running away like children from the law, their father: they have been schooled not by gentle influences but by force, for they have neglected her who is the true muse, the companion of reason and philosophy, and have honoured gymnastic more than music. undoubtedly, he said, the form of government which you describe is a mixture of good and evil. why, there is a mixture, i said; but one thing, and one thing only, is predominantly seen,--the spirit of contention and ambition; and these are due to the prevalence of the passionate or spirited element. assuredly, he said. such is the origin and such the character of this state, which has been described in outline only; the more perfect execution was not required, for a sketch is enough to show the type of the most perfectly just and most perfectly unjust; and to go through all the states and all the characters of men, omitting none of them, would be an interminable labour. very true, he replied. now what man answers to this form of government-how did he come into being, and what is he like? i think, said adeimantus, that in the spirit of contention which characterises him, he is not unlike our friend glaucon. perhaps, i said, he may be like him in that one point; but there are other respects in which he is very different. in what respects? he should have more of self-assertion and be less cultivated, and yet a friend of culture; and he should be a good listener, but no speaker. such a person is apt to be rough with slaves, unlike the educated man, who is too proud for that; and he will also be courteous to freemen, and remarkably obedient to authority; he is a lover of power and a lover of honour; claiming to be a ruler, not because he is eloquent, or on any ground of that sort, but because he is a soldier and has performed feats of arms; he is also a lover of gymnastic exercises and of the chase. yes, that is the type of character which answers to timocracy. such an one will despise riches only when he is young; but as he gets older he will be more and more attracted to them, because he has a piece of the avaricious nature in him, and is not single-minded towards virtue, having lost his best guardian. who was that? said adeimantus. philosophy, i said, tempered with music, who comes and takes up her abode in a man, and is the only saviour of his virtue throughout life. good, he said. such, i said, is the timocratical youth, and he is like the timocratical state. exactly. his origin is as follows:--he is often the young son of a brave father, who dwells in an ill-governed city, of which he declines the honours and offices, and will not go to law, or exert himself in any way, but is ready to waive his rights in order that he may escape trouble. and how does the son come into being? the character of the son begins to develope when he hears his mother complaining that her husband has no place in the government, of which the consequence is that she has no precedence among other women. further, when she sees her husband not very eager about money, and instead of battling and railing in the law courts or assembly, taking whatever happens to him quietly; and when she observes that his thoughts always centre in himself, while he treats her with very considerable indifference, she is annoyed, and says to her son that his father is only half a man and far too easy-going: adding all the other complaints about her own ill-treatment which women are so fond of rehearsing. yes, said adeimantus, they give us plenty of them, and their complaints are so like themselves. and you know, i said, that the old servants also, who are supposed to be attached to the family, from time to time talk privately in the same strain to the son; and if they see any one who owes money to his father, or is wronging him in any way, and he fails to prosecute them, they tell the youth that when he grows up he must retaliate upon people of this sort, and be more of a man than his father. he has only to walk abroad and he hears and sees the same sort of thing: those who do their own business in the city are called simpletons, and held in no esteem, while the busy-bodies are honoured and applauded. the result is that the young man, hearing and seeing all these things--hearing, too, the words of his father, and having a nearer view of his way of life, and making comparisons of him and others--is drawn opposite ways: while his father is watering and nourishing the rational principle in his soul, the others are encouraging the passionate and appetitive; and he being not originally of a bad nature, but having kept bad company, is at last brought by their joint influence to a middle point, and gives up the kingdom which is within him to the middle principle of contentiousness and passion, and becomes arrogant and ambitious. you seem to me to have described his origin perfectly. then we have now, i said, the second form of government and the second type of character? we have. next, let us look at another man who, as aeschylus says, 'is set over against another state;' or rather, as our plan requires, begin with the state. by all means. i believe that oligarchy follows next in order. and what manner of government do you term oligarchy? a government resting on a valuation of property, in which the rich have power and the poor man is deprived of it. i understand, he replied. ought i not to begin by describing how the change from timocracy to oligarchy arises? yes. well, i said, no eyes are required in order to see how the one passes into the other. how? the accumulation of gold in the treasury of private individuals is the ruin of timocracy; they invent illegal modes of expenditure; for what do they or their wives care about the law? yes, indeed. and then one, seeing another grow rich, seeks to rival him, and thus the great mass of the citizens become lovers of money. likely enough. and so they grow richer and richer, and the more they think of making a fortune the less they think of virtue; for when riches and virtue are placed together in the scales of the balance, the one always rises as the other falls. true. and in proportion as riches and rich men are honoured in the state, virtue and the virtuous are dishonoured. clearly. and what is honoured is cultivated, and that which has no honour is neglected. that is obvious. and so at last, instead of loving contention and glory, men become lovers of trade and money; they honour and look up to the rich man, and make a ruler of him, and dishonour the poor man. they do so. they next proceed to make a law which fixes a sum of money as the qualification of citizenship; the sum is higher in one place and lower in another, as the oligarchy is more or less exclusive; and they allow no one whose property falls below the amount fixed to have any share in the government. these changes in the constitution they effect by force of arms, if intimidation has not already done their work. very true. and this, speaking generally, is the way in which oligarchy is established. yes, he said; but what are the characteristics of this form of government, and what are the defects of which we were speaking? first of all, i said, consider the nature of the qualification. just think what would happen if pilots were to be chosen according to their property, and a poor man were refused permission to steer, even though he were a better pilot? you mean that they would shipwreck? yes; and is not this true of the government of anything? i should imagine so. except a city?--or would you include a city? nay, he said, the case of a city is the strongest of all, inasmuch as the rule of a city is the greatest and most difficult of all. this, then, will be the first great defect of oligarchy? clearly. and here is another defect which is quite as bad. what defect? the inevitable division: such a state is not one, but two states, the one of poor, the other of rich men; and they are living on the same spot and always conspiring against one another. that, surely, is at least as bad. another discreditable feature is, that, for a like reason, they are incapable of carrying on any war. either they arm the multitude, and then they are more afraid of them than of the enemy; or, if they do not call them out in the hour of battle, they are oligarchs indeed, few to fight as they are few to rule. and at the same time their fondness for money makes them unwilling to pay taxes. how discreditable! and, as we said before, under such a constitution the same persons have too many callings--they are husbandmen, tradesmen, warriors, all in one. does that look well? anything but well. there is another evil which is, perhaps, the greatest of all, and to which this state first begins to be liable. what evil? a man may sell all that he has, and another may acquire his property; yet after the sale he may dwell in the city of which he is no longer a part, being neither trader, nor artisan, nor horseman, nor hoplite, but only a poor, helpless creature. yes, that is an evil which also first begins in this state. the evil is certainly not prevented there; for oligarchies have both the extremes of great wealth and utter poverty. true. but think again: in his wealthy days, while he was spending his money, was a man of this sort a whit more good to the state for the purposes of citizenship? or did he only seem to be a member of the ruling body, although in truth he was neither ruler nor subject, but just a spendthrift? as you say, he seemed to be a ruler, but was only a spendthrift. may we not say that this is the drone in the house who is like the drone in the honeycomb, and that the one is the plague of the city as the other is of the hive? just so, socrates. and god has made the flying drones, adeimantus, all without stings, whereas of the walking drones he has made some without stings but others have dreadful stings; of the stingless class are those who in their old age end as paupers; of the stingers come all the criminal class, as they are termed. most true, he said. clearly then, whenever you see paupers in a state, somewhere in that neighborhood there are hidden away thieves, and cut-purses and robbers of temples, and all sorts of malefactors. clearly. well, i said, and in oligarchical states do you not find paupers? yes, he said; nearly everybody is a pauper who is not a ruler. and may we be so bold as to affirm that there are also many criminals to be found in them, rogues who have stings, and whom the authorities are careful to restrain by force? certainly, we may be so bold. the existence of such persons is to be attributed to want of education, ill-training, and an evil constitution of the state? true. such, then, is the form and such are the evils of oligarchy; and there may be many other evils. very likely. then oligarchy, or the form of government in which the rulers are elected for their wealth, may now be dismissed. let us next proceed to consider the nature and origin of the individual who answers to this state. by all means. does not the timocratical man change into the oligarchical on this wise? how? a time arrives when the representative of timocracy has a son: at first he begins by emulating his father and walking in his footsteps, but presently he sees him of a sudden foundering against the state as upon a sunken reef, and he and all that he has is lost; he may have been a general or some other high officer who is brought to trial under a prejudice raised by informers, and either put to death, or exiled, or deprived of the privileges of a citizen, and all his property taken from him. nothing more likely. and the son has seen and known all this--he is a ruined man, and his fear has taught him to knock ambition and passion headforemost from his bosom's throne; humbled by poverty he takes to money-making and by mean and miserly savings and hard work gets a fortune together. is not such an one likely to seat the concupiscent and covetous element on the vacant throne and to suffer it to play the great king within him, girt with tiara and chain and scimitar? most true, he replied. and when he has made reason and spirit sit down on the ground obediently on either side of their sovereign, and taught them to know their place, he compels the one to think only of how lesser sums may be turned into larger ones, and will not allow the other to worship and admire anything but riches and rich men, or to be ambitious of anything so much as the acquisition of wealth and the means of acquiring it. of all changes, he said, there is none so speedy or so sure as the conversion of the ambitious youth into the avaricious one. and the avaricious, i said, is the oligarchical youth? yes, he said; at any rate the individual out of whom he came is like the state out of which oligarchy came. let us then consider whether there is any likeness between them. very good. first, then, they resemble one another in the value which they set upon wealth? certainly. also in their penurious, laborious character; the individual only satisfies his necessary appetites, and confines his expenditure to them; his other desires he subdues, under the idea that they are unprofitable. true. he is a shabby fellow, who saves something out of everything and makes a purse for himself; and this is the sort of man whom the vulgar applaud. is he not a true image of the state which he represents? he appears to me to be so; at any rate money is highly valued by him as well as by the state. you see that he is not a man of cultivation, i said. i imagine not, he said; had he been educated he would never have made a blind god director of his chorus, or given him chief honour. excellent! i said. yet consider: must we not further admit that owing to this want of cultivation there will be found in him dronelike desires as of pauper and rogue, which are forcibly kept down by his general habit of life? true. do you know where you will have to look if you want to discover his rogueries? where must i look? you should see him where he has some great opportunity of acting dishonestly, as in the guardianship of an orphan. aye. it will be clear enough then that in his ordinary dealings which give him a reputation for honesty he coerces his bad passions by an enforced virtue; not making them see that they are wrong, or taming them by reason, but by necessity and fear constraining them, and because he trembles for his possessions. to be sure. yes, indeed, my dear friend, but you will find that the natural desires of the drone commonly exist in him all the same whenever he has to spend what is not his own. yes, and they will be strong in him too. the man, then, will be at war with himself; he will be two men, and not one; but, in general, his better desires will be found to prevail over his inferior ones. true. for these reasons such an one will be more respectable than most people; yet the true virtue of a unanimous and harmonious soul will flee far away and never come near him. i should expect so. and surely, the miser individually will be an ignoble competitor in a state for any prize of victory, or other object of honourable ambition; he will not spend his money in the contest for glory; so afraid is he of awakening his expensive appetites and inviting them to help and join in the struggle; in true oligarchical fashion he fights with a small part only of his resources, and the result commonly is that he loses the prize and saves his money. very true. can we any longer doubt, then, that the miser and money-maker answers to the oligarchical state? there can be no doubt. next comes democracy; of this the origin and nature have still to be considered by us; and then we will enquire into the ways of the democratic man, and bring him up for judgment. that, he said, is our method. well, i said, and how does the change from oligarchy into democracy arise? is it not on this wise?--the good at which such a state aims is to become as rich as possible, a desire which is insatiable? what then? the rulers, being aware that their power rests upon their wealth, refuse to curtail by law the extravagance of the spendthrift youth because they gain by their ruin; they take interest from them and buy up their estates and thus increase their own wealth and importance? to be sure. there can be no doubt that the love of wealth and the spirit of moderation cannot exist together in citizens of the same state to any considerable extent; one or the other will be disregarded. that is tolerably clear. and in oligarchical states, from the general spread of carelessness and extravagance, men of good family have often been reduced to beggary? yes, often. and still they remain in the city; there they are, ready to sting and fully armed, and some of them owe money, some have forfeited their citizenship; a third class are in both predicaments; and they hate and conspire against those who have got their property, and against everybody else, and are eager for revolution. that is true. on the other hand, the men of business, stooping as they walk, and pretending not even to see those whom they have already ruined, insert their sting--that is, their money--into some one else who is not on his guard against them, and recover the parent sum many times over multiplied into a family of children: and so they make drone and pauper to abound in the state. yes, he said, there are plenty of them--that is certain. the evil blazes up like a fire; and they will not extinguish it, either by restricting a man's use of his own property, or by another remedy: what other? one which is the next best, and has the advantage of compelling the citizens to look to their characters:--let there be a general rule that every one shall enter into voluntary contracts at his own risk, and there will be less of this scandalous money-making, and the evils of which we were speaking will be greatly lessened in the state. yes, they will be greatly lessened. at present the governors, induced by the motives which i have named, treat their subjects badly; while they and their adherents, especially the young men of the governing class, are habituated to lead a life of luxury and idleness both of body and mind; they do nothing, and are incapable of resisting either pleasure or pain. very true. they themselves care only for making money, and are as indifferent as the pauper to the cultivation of virtue. yes, quite as indifferent. such is the state of affairs which prevails among them. and often rulers and their subjects may come in one another's way, whether on a journey or on some other occasion of meeting, on a pilgrimage or a march, as fellow-soldiers or fellow-sailors; aye and they may observe the behaviour of each other in the very moment of danger--for where danger is, there is no fear that the poor will be despised by the rich--and very likely the wiry sunburnt poor man may be placed in battle at the side of a wealthy one who has never spoilt his complexion and has plenty of superfluous flesh--when he sees such an one puffing and at his wits'-end, how can he avoid drawing the conclusion that men like him are only rich because no one has the courage to despoil them? and when they meet in private will not people be saying to one another 'our warriors are not good for much'? yes, he said, i am quite aware that this is their way of talking. and, as in a body which is diseased the addition of a touch from without may bring on illness, and sometimes even when there is no external provocation a commotion may arise within--in the same way wherever there is weakness in the state there is also likely to be illness, of which the occasion may be very slight, the one party introducing from without their oligarchical, the other their democratical allies, and then the state falls sick, and is at war with herself; and may be at times distracted, even when there is no external cause. yes, surely. and then democracy comes into being after the poor have conquered their opponents, slaughtering some and banishing some, while to the remainder they give an equal share of freedom and power; and this is the form of government in which the magistrates are commonly elected by lot. yes, he said, that is the nature of democracy, whether the revolution has been effected by arms, or whether fear has caused the opposite party to withdraw. and now what is their manner of life, and what sort of a government have they? for as the government is, such will be the man. clearly, he said. in the first place, are they not free; and is not the city full of freedom and frankness--a man may say and do what he likes? 'tis said so, he replied. and where freedom is, the individual is clearly able to order for himself his own life as he pleases? clearly. then in this kind of state there will be the greatest variety of human natures? there will. this, then, seems likely to be the fairest of states, being like an embroidered robe which is spangled with every sort of flower. and just as women and children think a variety of colours to be of all things most charming, so there are many men to whom this state, which is spangled with the manners and characters of mankind, will appear to be the fairest of states. yes. yes, my good sir, and there will be no better in which to look for a government. why? because of the liberty which reigns there--they have a complete assortment of constitutions; and he who has a mind to establish a state, as we have been doing, must go to a democracy as he would to a bazaar at which they sell them, and pick out the one that suits him; then, when he has made his choice, he may found his state. he will be sure to have patterns enough. and there being no necessity, i said, for you to govern in this state, even if you have the capacity, or to be governed, unless you like, or go to war when the rest go to war, or to be at peace when others are at peace, unless you are so disposed--there being no necessity also, because some law forbids you to hold office or be a dicast, that you should not hold office or be a dicast, if you have a fancy--is not this a way of life which for the moment is supremely delightful? for the moment, yes. and is not their humanity to the condemned in some cases quite charming? have you not observed how, in a democracy, many persons, although they have been sentenced to death or exile, just stay where they are and walk about the world--the gentleman parades like a hero, and nobody sees or cares? yes, he replied, many and many a one. see too, i said, the forgiving spirit of democracy, and the 'don't care' about trifles, and the disregard which she shows of all the fine principles which we solemnly laid down at the foundation of the city--as when we said that, except in the case of some rarely gifted nature, there never will be a good man who has not from his childhood been used to play amid things of beauty and make of them a joy and a study--how grandly does she trample all these fine notions of ours under her feet, never giving a thought to the pursuits which make a statesman, and promoting to honour any one who professes to be the people's friend. yes, she is of a noble spirit. these and other kindred characteristics are proper to democracy, which is a charming form of government, full of variety and disorder, and dispensing a sort of equality to equals and unequals alike. we know her well. consider now, i said, what manner of man the individual is, or rather consider, as in the case of the state, how he comes into being. very good, he said. is not this the way--he is the son of the miserly and oligarchical father who has trained him in his own habits? exactly. and, like his father, he keeps under by force the pleasures which are of the spending and not of the getting sort, being those which are called unnecessary? obviously. would you like, for the sake of clearness, to distinguish which are the necessary and which are the unnecessary pleasures? i should. are not necessary pleasures those of which we cannot get rid, and of which the satisfaction is a benefit to us? and they are rightly called so, because we are framed by nature to desire both what is beneficial and what is necessary, and cannot help it. true. we are not wrong therefore in calling them necessary? we are not. and the desires of which a man may get rid, if he takes pains from his youth upwards--of which the presence, moreover, does no good, and in some cases the reverse of good--shall we not be right in saying that all these are unnecessary? yes, certainly. suppose we select an example of either kind, in order that we may have a general notion of them? very good. will not the desire of eating, that is, of simple food and condiments, in so far as they are required for health and strength, be of the necessary class? that is what i should suppose. the pleasure of eating is necessary in two ways; it does us good and it is essential to the continuance of life? yes. but the condiments are only necessary in so far as they are good for health? certainly. and the desire which goes beyond this, of more delicate food, or other luxuries, which might generally be got rid of, if controlled and trained in youth, and is hurtful to the body, and hurtful to the soul in the pursuit of wisdom and virtue, may be rightly called unnecessary? very true. may we not say that these desires spend, and that the others make money because they conduce to production? certainly. and of the pleasures of love, and all other pleasures, the same holds good? true. and the drone of whom we spoke was he who was surfeited in pleasures and desires of this sort, and was the slave of the unnecessary desires, whereas he who was subject to the necessary only was miserly and oligarchical? very true. again, let us see how the democratical man grows out of the oligarchical: the following, as i suspect, is commonly the process. what is the process? when a young man who has been brought up as we were just now describing, in a vulgar and miserly way, has tasted drones' honey and has come to associate with fierce and crafty natures who are able to provide for him all sorts of refinements and varieties of pleasure--then, as you may imagine, the change will begin of the oligarchical principle within him into the democratical? inevitably. and as in the city like was helping like, and the change was effected by an alliance from without assisting one division of the citizens, so too the young man is changed by a class of desires coming from without to assist the desires within him, that which is akin and alike again helping that which is akin and alike? certainly. and if there be any ally which aids the oligarchical principle within him, whether the influence of a father or of kindred, advising or rebuking him, then there arises in his soul a faction and an opposite faction, and he goes to war with himself. it must be so. and there are times when the democratical principle gives way to the oligarchical, and some of his desires die, and others are banished; a spirit of reverence enters into the young man's soul and order is restored. yes, he said, that sometimes happens. and then, again, after the old desires have been driven out, fresh ones spring up, which are akin to them, and because he their father does not know how to educate them, wax fierce and numerous. yes, he said, that is apt to be the way. they draw him to his old associates, and holding secret intercourse with them, breed and multiply in him. very true. at length they seize upon the citadel of the young man's soul, which they perceive to be void of all accomplishments and fair pursuits and true words, which make their abode in the minds of men who are dear to the gods, and are their best guardians and sentinels. none better. false and boastful conceits and phrases mount upwards and take their place. they are certain to do so. and so the young man returns into the country of the lotus-eaters, and takes up his dwelling there in the face of all men; and if any help be sent by his friends to the oligarchical part of him, the aforesaid vain conceits shut the gate of the king's fastness; and they will neither allow the embassy itself to enter, nor if private advisers offer the fatherly counsel of the aged will they listen to them or receive them. there is a battle and they gain the day, and then modesty, which they call silliness, is ignominiously thrust into exile by them, and temperance, which they nickname unmanliness, is trampled in the mire and cast forth; they persuade men that moderation and orderly expenditure are vulgarity and meanness, and so, by the help of a rabble of evil appetites, they drive them beyond the border. yes, with a will. and when they have emptied and swept clean the soul of him who is now in their power and who is being initiated by them in great mysteries, the next thing is to bring back to their house insolence and anarchy and waste and impudence in bright array having garlands on their heads, and a great company with them, hymning their praises and calling them by sweet names; insolence they term breeding, and anarchy liberty, and waste magnificence, and impudence courage. and so the young man passes out of his original nature, which was trained in the school of necessity, into the freedom and libertinism of useless and unnecessary pleasures. yes, he said, the change in him is visible enough. after this he lives on, spending his money and labour and time on unnecessary pleasures quite as much as on necessary ones; but if he be fortunate, and is not too much disordered in his wits, when years have elapsed, and the heyday of passion is over--supposing that he then re-admits into the city some part of the exiled virtues, and does not wholly give himself up to their successors--in that case he balances his pleasures and lives in a sort of equilibrium, putting the government of himself into the hands of the one which comes first and wins the turn; and when he has had enough of that, then into the hands of another; he despises none of them but encourages them all equally. very true, he said. neither does he receive or let pass into the fortress any true word of advice; if any one says to him that some pleasures are the satisfactions of good and noble desires, and others of evil desires, and that he ought to use and honour some and chastise and master the others--whenever this is repeated to him he shakes his head and says that they are all alike, and that one is as good as another. yes, he said; that is the way with him. yes, i said, he lives from day to day indulging the appetite of the hour; and sometimes he is lapped in drink and strains of the flute; then he becomes a water-drinker, and tries to get thin; then he takes a turn at gymnastics; sometimes idling and neglecting everything, then once more living the life of a philosopher; often he is busy with politics, and starts to his feet and says and does whatever comes into his head; and, if he is emulous of any one who is a warrior, off he is in that direction, or of men of business, once more in that. his life has neither law nor order; and this distracted existence he terms joy and bliss and freedom; and so he goes on. yes, he replied, he is all liberty and equality. yes, i said; his life is motley and manifold and an epitome of the lives of many;--he answers to the state which we described as fair and spangled. and many a man and many a woman will take him for their pattern, and many a constitution and many an example of manners is contained in him. just so. let him then be set over against democracy; he may truly be called the democratic man. let that be his place, he said. last of all comes the most beautiful of all, man and state alike, tyranny and the tyrant; these we have now to consider. quite true, he said. say then, my friend, in what manner does tyranny arise?--that it has a democratic origin is evident. clearly. and does not tyranny spring from democracy in the same manner as democracy from oligarchy--i mean, after a sort? how? the good which oligarchy proposed to itself and the means by which it was maintained was excess of wealth--am i not right? yes. and the insatiable desire of wealth and the neglect of all other things for the sake of money-getting was also the ruin of oligarchy? true. and democracy has her own good, of which the insatiable desire brings her to dissolution? what good? freedom, i replied; which, as they tell you in a democracy, is the glory of the state--and that therefore in a democracy alone will the freeman of nature deign to dwell. yes; the saying is in every body's mouth. i was going to observe, that the insatiable desire of this and the neglect of other things introduces the change in democracy, which occasions a demand for tyranny. how so? when a democracy which is thirsting for freedom has evil cup-bearers presiding over the feast, and has drunk too deeply of the strong wine of freedom, then, unless her rulers are very amenable and give a plentiful draught, she calls them to account and punishes them, and says that they are cursed oligarchs. yes, he replied, a very common occurrence. yes, i said; and loyal citizens are insultingly termed by her slaves who hug their chains and men of naught; she would have subjects who are like rulers, and rulers who are like subjects: these are men after her own heart, whom she praises and honours both in private and public. now, in such a state, can liberty have any limit? certainly not. by degrees the anarchy finds a way into private houses, and ends by getting among the animals and infecting them. how do you mean? i mean that the father grows accustomed to descend to the level of his sons and to fear them, and the son is on a level with his father, he having no respect or reverence for either of his parents; and this is his freedom, and the metic is equal with the citizen and the citizen with the metic, and the stranger is quite as good as either. yes, he said, that is the way. and these are not the only evils, i said--there are several lesser ones: in such a state of society the master fears and flatters his scholars, and the scholars despise their masters and tutors; young and old are all alike; and the young man is on a level with the old, and is ready to compete with him in word or deed; and old men condescend to the young and are full of pleasantry and gaiety; they are loth to be thought morose and authoritative, and therefore they adopt the manners of the young. quite true, he said. the last extreme of popular liberty is when the slave bought with money, whether male or female, is just as free as his or her purchaser; nor must i forget to tell of the liberty and equality of the two sexes in relation to each other. why not, as aeschylus says, utter the word which rises to our lips? that is what i am doing, i replied; and i must add that no one who does not know would believe, how much greater is the liberty which the animals who are under the dominion of man have in a democracy than in any other state: for truly, the she-dogs, as the proverb says, are as good as their she-mistresses, and the horses and asses have a way of marching along with all the rights and dignities of freemen; and they will run at any body who comes in their way if he does not leave the road clear for them: and all things are just ready to burst with liberty. when i take a country walk, he said, i often experience what you describe. you and i have dreamed the same thing. and above all, i said, and as the result of all, see how sensitive the citizens become; they chafe impatiently at the least touch of authority, and at length, as you know, they cease to care even for the laws, written or unwritten; they will have no one over them. yes, he said, i know it too well. such, my friend, i said, is the fair and glorious beginning out of which springs tyranny. glorious indeed, he said. but what is the next step? the ruin of oligarchy is the ruin of democracy; the same disease magnified and intensified by liberty overmasters democracy--the truth being that the excessive increase of anything often causes a reaction in the opposite direction; and this is the case not only in the seasons and in vegetable and animal life, but above all in forms of government. true. the excess of liberty, whether in states or individuals, seems only to pass into excess of slavery. yes, the natural order. and so tyranny naturally arises out of democracy, and the most aggravated form of tyranny and slavery out of the most extreme form of liberty? as we might expect. that, however, was not, as i believe, your question--you rather desired to know what is that disorder which is generated alike in oligarchy and democracy, and is the ruin of both? just so, he replied. well, i said, i meant to refer to the class of idle spendthrifts, of whom the more courageous are the leaders and the more timid the followers, the same whom we were comparing to drones, some stingless, and others having stings. a very just comparison. these two classes are the plagues of every city in which they are generated, being what phlegm and bile are to the body. and the good physician and lawgiver of the state ought, like the wise bee-master, to keep them at a distance and prevent, if possible, their ever coming in; and if they have anyhow found a way in, then he should have them and their cells cut out as speedily as possible. yes, by all means, he said. then, in order that we may see clearly what we are doing, let us imagine democracy to be divided, as indeed it is, into three classes; for in the first place freedom creates rather more drones in the democratic than there were in the oligarchical state. that is true. and in the democracy they are certainly more intensified. how so? because in the oligarchical state they are disqualified and driven from office, and therefore they cannot train or gather strength; whereas in a democracy they are almost the entire ruling power, and while the keener sort speak and act, the rest keep buzzing about the bema and do not suffer a word to be said on the other side; hence in democracies almost everything is managed by the drones. very true, he said. then there is another class which is always being severed from the mass. what is that? they are the orderly class, which in a nation of traders is sure to be the richest. naturally so. they are the most squeezable persons and yield the largest amount of honey to the drones. why, he said, there is little to be squeezed out of people who have little. and this is called the wealthy class, and the drones feed upon them. that is pretty much the case, he said. the people are a third class, consisting of those who work with their own hands; they are not politicians, and have not much to live upon. this, when assembled, is the largest and most powerful class in a democracy. true, he said; but then the multitude is seldom willing to congregate unless they get a little honey. and do they not share? i said. do not their leaders deprive the rich of their estates and distribute them among the people; at the same time taking care to reserve the larger part for themselves? why, yes, he said, to that extent the people do share. and the persons whose property is taken from them are compelled to defend themselves before the people as they best can? what else can they do? and then, although they may have no desire of change, the others charge them with plotting against the people and being friends of oligarchy? true. and the end is that when they see the people, not of their own accord, but through ignorance, and because they are deceived by informers, seeking to do them wrong, then at last they are forced to become oligarchs in reality; they do not wish to be, but the sting of the drones torments them and breeds revolution in them. that is exactly the truth. then come impeachments and judgments and trials of one another. true. the people have always some champion whom they set over them and nurse into greatness. yes, that is their way. this and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he first appears above ground he is a protector. yes, that is quite clear. how then does a protector begin to change into a tyrant? clearly when he does what the man is said to do in the tale of the arcadian temple of lycaean zeus. what tale? the tale is that he who has tasted the entrails of a single human victim minced up with the entrails of other victims is destined to become a wolf. did you never hear it? oh, yes. and the protector of the people is like him; having a mob entirely at his disposal, he is not restrained from shedding the blood of kinsmen; by the favourite method of false accusation he brings them into court and murders them, making the life of man to disappear, and with unholy tongue and lips tasting the blood of his fellow citizens; some he kills and others he banishes, at the same time hinting at the abolition of debts and partition of lands: and after this, what will be his destiny? must he not either perish at the hands of his enemies, or from being a man become a wolf--that is, a tyrant? inevitably. this, i said, is he who begins to make a party against the rich? the same. after a while he is driven out, but comes back, in spite of his enemies, a tyrant full grown. that is clear. and if they are unable to expel him, or to get him condemned to death by a public accusation, they conspire to assassinate him. yes, he said, that is their usual way. then comes the famous request for a body-guard, which is the device of all those who have got thus far in their tyrannical career--'let not the people's friend,' as they say, 'be lost to them.' exactly. the people readily assent; all their fears are for him--they have none for themselves. very true. and when a man who is wealthy and is also accused of being an enemy of the people sees this, then, my friend, as the oracle said to croesus, 'by pebbly hermus' shore he flees and rests not, and is not ashamed to be a coward.' and quite right too, said he, for if he were, he would never be ashamed again. but if he is caught he dies. of course. and he, the protector of whom we spoke, is to be seen, not 'larding the plain' with his bulk, but himself the overthrower of many, standing up in the chariot of state with the reins in his hand, no longer protector, but tyrant absolute. no doubt, he said. and now let us consider the happiness of the man, and also of the state in which a creature like him is generated. yes, he said, let us consider that. at first, in the early days of his power, he is full of smiles, and he salutes every one whom he meets;--he to be called a tyrant, who is making promises in public and also in private! liberating debtors, and distributing land to the people and his followers, and wanting to be so kind and good to every one! of course, he said. but when he has disposed of foreign enemies by conquest or treaty, and there is nothing to fear from them, then he is always stirring up some war or other, in order that the people may require a leader. to be sure. has he not also another object, which is that they may be impoverished by payment of taxes, and thus compelled to devote themselves to their daily wants and therefore less likely to conspire against him? clearly. and if any of them are suspected by him of having notions of freedom, and of resistance to his authority, he will have a good pretext for destroying them by placing them at the mercy of the enemy; and for all these reasons the tyrant must be always getting up a war. he must. now he begins to grow unpopular. a necessary result. then some of those who joined in setting him up, and who are in power, speak their minds to him and to one another, and the more courageous of them cast in his teeth what is being done. yes, that may be expected. and the tyrant, if he means to rule, must get rid of them; he cannot stop while he has a friend or an enemy who is good for anything. he cannot. and therefore he must look about him and see who is valiant, who is high-minded, who is wise, who is wealthy; happy man, he is the enemy of them all, and must seek occasion against them whether he will or no, until he has made a purgation of the state. yes, he said, and a rare purgation. yes, i said, not the sort of purgation which the physicians make of the body; for they take away the worse and leave the better part, but he does the reverse. if he is to rule, i suppose that he cannot help himself. what a blessed alternative, i said:--to be compelled to dwell only with the many bad, and to be by them hated, or not to live at all! yes, that is the alternative. and the more detestable his actions are to the citizens the more satellites and the greater devotion in them will he require? certainly. and who are the devoted band, and where will he procure them? they will flock to him, he said, of their own accord, if he pays them. by the dog! i said, here are more drones, of every sort and from every land. yes, he said, there are. but will he not desire to get them on the spot? how do you mean? he will rob the citizens of their slaves; he will then set them free and enrol them in his body-guard. to be sure, he said; and he will be able to trust them best of all. what a blessed creature, i said, must this tyrant be; he has put to death the others and has these for his trusted friends. yes, he said; they are quite of his sort. yes, i said, and these are the new citizens whom he has called into existence, who admire him and are his companions, while the good hate and avoid him. of course. verily, then, tragedy is a wise thing and euripides a great tragedian. why so? why, because he is the author of the pregnant saying, 'tyrants are wise by living with the wise;' and he clearly meant to say that they are the wise whom the tyrant makes his companions. yes, he said, and he also praises tyranny as godlike; and many other things of the same kind are said by him and by the other poets. and therefore, i said, the tragic poets being wise men will forgive us and any others who live after our manner if we do not receive them into our state, because they are the eulogists of tyranny. yes, he said, those who have the wit will doubtless forgive us. but they will continue to go to other cities and attract mobs, and hire voices fair and loud and persuasive, and draw the cities over to tyrannies and democracies. very true. moreover, they are paid for this and receive honour--the greatest honour, as might be expected, from tyrants, and the next greatest from democracies; but the higher they ascend our constitution hill, the more their reputation fails, and seems unable from shortness of breath to proceed further. true. but we are wandering from the subject: let us therefore return and enquire how the tyrant will maintain that fair and numerous and various and ever-changing army of his. if, he said, there are sacred treasures in the city, he will confiscate and spend them; and in so far as the fortunes of attainted persons may suffice, he will be able to diminish the taxes which he would otherwise have to impose upon the people. and when these fail? why, clearly, he said, then he and his boon companions, whether male or female, will be maintained out of his father's estate. you mean to say that the people, from whom he has derived his being, will maintain him and his companions? yes, he said; they cannot help themselves. but what if the people fly into a passion, and aver that a grown-up son ought not to be supported by his father, but that the father should be supported by the son? the father did not bring him into being, or settle him in life, in order that when his son became a man he should himself be the servant of his own servants and should support him and his rabble of slaves and companions; but that his son should protect him, and that by his help he might be emancipated from the government of the rich and aristocratic, as they are termed. and so he bids him and his companions depart, just as any other father might drive out of the house a riotous son and his undesirable associates. by heaven, he said, then the parent will discover what a monster he has been fostering in his bosom; and, when he wants to drive him out, he will find that he is weak and his son strong. why, you do not mean to say that the tyrant will use violence? what! beat his father if he opposes him? yes, he will, having first disarmed him. then he is a parricide, and a cruel guardian of an aged parent; and this is real tyranny, about which there can be no longer a mistake: as the saying is, the people who would escape the smoke which is the slavery of freemen, has fallen into the fire which is the tyranny of slaves. thus liberty, getting out of all order and reason, passes into the harshest and bitterest form of slavery. true, he said. very well; and may we not rightly say that we have sufficiently discussed the nature of tyranny, and the manner of the transition from democracy to tyranny? yes, quite enough, he said. book ix. last of all comes the tyrannical man; about whom we have once more to ask, how is he formed out of the democratical? and how does he live, in happiness or in misery? yes, he said, he is the only one remaining. there is, however, i said, a previous question which remains unanswered. what question? i do not think that we have adequately determined the nature and number of the appetites, and until this is accomplished the enquiry will always be confused. well, he said, it is not too late to supply the omission. very true, i said; and observe the point which i want to understand: certain of the unnecessary pleasures and appetites i conceive to be unlawful; every one appears to have them, but in some persons they are controlled by the laws and by reason, and the better desires prevail over them--either they are wholly banished or they become few and weak; while in the case of others they are stronger, and there are more of them. which appetites do you mean? i mean those which are awake when the reasoning and human and ruling power is asleep; then the wild beast within us, gorged with meat or drink, starts up and having shaken off sleep, goes forth to satisfy his desires; and there is no conceivable folly or crime--not excepting incest or any other unnatural union, or parricide, or the eating of forbidden food--which at such a time, when he has parted company with all shame and sense, a man may not be ready to commit. most true, he said. but when a man's pulse is healthy and temperate, and when before going to sleep he has awakened his rational powers, and fed them on noble thoughts and enquiries, collecting himself in meditation; after having first indulged his appetites neither too much nor too little, but just enough to lay them to sleep, and prevent them and their enjoyments and pains from interfering with the higher principle--which he leaves in the solitude of pure abstraction, free to contemplate and aspire to the knowledge of the unknown, whether in past, present, or future: when again he has allayed the passionate element, if he has a quarrel against any one--i say, when, after pacifying the two irrational principles, he rouses up the third, which is reason, before he takes his rest, then, as you know, he attains truth most nearly, and is least likely to be the sport of fantastic and lawless visions. i quite agree. in saying this i have been running into a digression; but the point which i desire to note is that in all of us, even in good men, there is a lawless wild-beast nature, which peers out in sleep. pray, consider whether i am right, and you agree with me. yes, i agree. and now remember the character which we attributed to the democratic man. he was supposed from his youth upwards to have been trained under a miserly parent, who encouraged the saving appetites in him, but discountenanced the unnecessary, which aim only at amusement and ornament? true. and then he got into the company of a more refined, licentious sort of people, and taking to all their wanton ways rushed into the opposite extreme from an abhorrence of his father's meanness. at last, being a better man than his corruptors, he was drawn in both directions until he halted midway and led a life, not of vulgar and slavish passion, but of what he deemed moderate indulgence in various pleasures. after this manner the democrat was generated out of the oligarch? yes, he said; that was our view of him, and is so still. and now, i said, years will have passed away, and you must conceive this man, such as he is, to have a son, who is brought up in his father's principles. i can imagine him. then you must further imagine the same thing to happen to the son which has already happened to the father:--he is drawn into a perfectly lawless life, which by his seducers is termed perfect liberty; and his father and friends take part with his moderate desires, and the opposite party assist the opposite ones. as soon as these dire magicians and tyrant-makers find that they are losing their hold on him, they contrive to implant in him a master passion, to be lord over his idle and spendthrift lusts--a sort of monstrous winged drone--that is the only image which will adequately describe him. yes, he said, that is the only adequate image of him. and when his other lusts, amid clouds of incense and perfumes and garlands and wines, and all the pleasures of a dissolute life, now let loose, come buzzing around him, nourishing to the utmost the sting of desire which they implant in his drone-like nature, then at last this lord of the soul, having madness for the captain of his guard, breaks out into a frenzy: and if he finds in himself any good opinions or appetites in process of formation, and there is in him any sense of shame remaining, to these better principles he puts an end, and casts them forth until he has purged away temperance and brought in madness to the full. yes, he said, that is the way in which the tyrannical man is generated. and is not this the reason why of old love has been called a tyrant? i should not wonder. further, i said, has not a drunken man also the spirit of a tyrant? he has. and you know that a man who is deranged and not right in his mind, will fancy that he is able to rule, not only over men, but also over the gods? that he will. and the tyrannical man in the true sense of the word comes into being when, either under the influence of nature, or habit, or both, he becomes drunken, lustful, passionate? o my friend, is not that so? assuredly. such is the man and such is his origin. and next, how does he live? suppose, as people facetiously say, you were to tell me. i imagine, i said, at the next step in his progress, that there will be feasts and carousals and revellings and courtezans, and all that sort of thing; love is the lord of the house within him, and orders all the concerns of his soul. that is certain. yes; and every day and every night desires grow up many and formidable, and their demands are many. they are indeed, he said. his revenues, if he has any, are soon spent. true. then comes debt and the cutting down of his property. of course. when he has nothing left, must not his desires, crowding in the nest like young ravens, be crying aloud for food; and he, goaded on by them, and especially by love himself, who is in a manner the captain of them, is in a frenzy, and would fain discover whom he can defraud or despoil of his property, in order that he may gratify them? yes, that is sure to be the case. he must have money, no matter how, if he is to escape horrid pains and pangs. he must. and as in himself there was a succession of pleasures, and the new got the better of the old and took away their rights, so he being younger will claim to have more than his father and his mother, and if he has spent his own share of the property, he will take a slice of theirs. no doubt he will. and if his parents will not give way, then he will try first of all to cheat and deceive them. very true. and if he fails, then he will use force and plunder them. yes, probably. and if the old man and woman fight for their own, what then, my friend? will the creature feel any compunction at tyrannizing over them? nay, he said, i should not feel at all comfortable about his parents. but, o heavens! adeimantus, on account of some new-fangled love of a harlot, who is anything but a necessary connection, can you believe that he would strike the mother who is his ancient friend and necessary to his very existence, and would place her under the authority of the other, when she is brought under the same roof with her; or that, under like circumstances, he would do the same to his withered old father, first and most indispensable of friends, for the sake of some newly-found blooming youth who is the reverse of indispensable? yes, indeed, he said; i believe that he would. truly, then, i said, a tyrannical son is a blessing to his father and mother. he is indeed, he replied. he first takes their property, and when that fails, and pleasures are beginning to swarm in the hive of his soul, then he breaks into a house, or steals the garments of some nightly wayfarer; next he proceeds to clear a temple. meanwhile the old opinions which he had when a child, and which gave judgment about good and evil, are overthrown by those others which have just been emancipated, and are now the body-guard of love and share his empire. these in his democratic days, when he was still subject to the laws and to his father, were only let loose in the dreams of sleep. but now that he is under the dominion of love, he becomes always and in waking reality what he was then very rarely and in a dream only; he will commit the foulest murder, or eat forbidden food, or be guilty of any other horrid act. love is his tyrant, and lives lordly in him and lawlessly, and being himself a king, leads him on, as a tyrant leads a state, to the performance of any reckless deed by which he can maintain himself and the rabble of his associates, whether those whom evil communications have brought in from without, or those whom he himself has allowed to break loose within him by reason of a similar evil nature in himself. have we not here a picture of his way of life? yes, indeed, he said. and if there are only a few of them in the state, and the rest of the people are well disposed, they go away and become the body-guard or mercenary soldiers of some other tyrant who may probably want them for a war; and if there is no war, they stay at home and do many little pieces of mischief in the city. what sort of mischief? for example, they are the thieves, burglars, cut-purses, foot-pads, robbers of temples, man-stealers of the community; or if they are able to speak they turn informers, and bear false witness, and take bribes. a small catalogue of evils, even if the perpetrators of them are few in number. yes, i said; but small and great are comparative terms, and all these things, in the misery and evil which they inflict upon a state, do not come within a thousand miles of the tyrant; when this noxious class and their followers grow numerous and become conscious of their strength, assisted by the infatuation of the people, they choose from among themselves the one who has most of the tyrant in his own soul, and him they create their tyrant. yes, he said, and he will be the most fit to be a tyrant. if the people yield, well and good; but if they resist him, as he began by beating his own father and mother, so now, if he has the power, he beats them, and will keep his dear old fatherland or motherland, as the cretans say, in subjection to his young retainers whom he has introduced to be their rulers and masters. this is the end of his passions and desires. exactly. when such men are only private individuals and before they get power, this is their character; they associate entirely with their own flatterers or ready tools; or if they want anything from anybody, they in their turn are equally ready to bow down before them: they profess every sort of affection for them; but when they have gained their point they know them no more. yes, truly. they are always either the masters or servants and never the friends of anybody; the tyrant never tastes of true freedom or friendship. certainly not. and may we not rightly call such men treacherous? no question. also they are utterly unjust, if we were right in our notion of justice? yes, he said, and we were perfectly right. let us then sum up in a word, i said, the character of the worst man: he is the waking reality of what we dreamed. most true. and this is he who being by nature most of a tyrant bears rule, and the longer he lives the more of a tyrant he becomes. that is certain, said glaucon, taking his turn to answer. and will not he who has been shown to be the wickedest, be also the most miserable? and he who has tyrannized longest and most, most continually and truly miserable; although this may not be the opinion of men in general? yes, he said, inevitably. and must not the tyrannical man be like the tyrannical state, and the democratical man like the democratical state; and the same of the others? certainly. and as state is to state in virtue and happiness, so is man in relation to man? to be sure. then comparing our original city, which was under a king, and the city which is under a tyrant, how do they stand as to virtue? they are the opposite extremes, he said, for one is the very best and the other is the very worst. there can be no mistake, i said, as to which is which, and therefore i will at once enquire whether you would arrive at a similar decision about their relative happiness and misery. and here we must not allow ourselves to be panic-stricken at the apparition of the tyrant, who is only a unit and may perhaps have a few retainers about him; but let us go as we ought into every corner of the city and look all about, and then we will give our opinion. a fair invitation, he replied; and i see, as every one must, that a tyranny is the wretchedest form of government, and the rule of a king the happiest. and in estimating the men too, may i not fairly make a like request, that i should have a judge whose mind can enter into and see through human nature? he must not be like a child who looks at the outside and is dazzled at the pompous aspect which the tyrannical nature assumes to the beholder, but let him be one who has a clear insight. may i suppose that the judgment is given in the hearing of us all by one who is able to judge, and has dwelt in the same place with him, and been present at his dally life and known him in his family relations, where he may be seen stripped of his tragedy attire, and again in the hour of public danger--he shall tell us about the happiness and misery of the tyrant when compared with other men? that again, he said, is a very fair proposal. shall i assume that we ourselves are able and experienced judges and have before now met with such a person? we shall then have some one who will answer our enquiries. by all means. let me ask you not to forget the parallel of the individual and the state; bearing this in mind, and glancing in turn from one to the other of them, will you tell me their respective conditions? what do you mean? he asked. beginning with the state, i replied, would you say that a city which is governed by a tyrant is free or enslaved? no city, he said, can be more completely enslaved. and yet, as you see, there are freemen as well as masters in such a state? yes, he said, i see that there are--a few; but the people, speaking generally, and the best of them are miserably degraded and enslaved. then if the man is like the state, i said, must not the same rule prevail? his soul is full of meanness and vulgarity--the best elements in him are enslaved; and there is a small ruling part, which is also the worst and maddest. inevitably. and would you say that the soul of such an one is the soul of a freeman, or of a slave? he has the soul of a slave, in my opinion. and the state which is enslaved under a tyrant is utterly incapable of acting voluntarily? utterly incapable. and also the soul which is under a tyrant (i am speaking of the soul taken as a whole) is least capable of doing what she desires; there is a gadfly which goads her, and she is full of trouble and remorse? certainly. and is the city which is under a tyrant rich or poor? poor. and the tyrannical soul must be always poor and insatiable? true. and must not such a state and such a man be always full of fear? yes, indeed. is there any state in which you will find more of lamentation and sorrow and groaning and pain? certainly not. and is there any man in whom you will find more of this sort of misery than in the tyrannical man, who is in a fury of passions and desires? impossible. reflecting upon these and similar evils, you held the tyrannical state to be the most miserable of states? and i was right, he said. certainly, i said. and when you see the same evils in the tyrannical man, what do you say of him? i say that he is by far the most miserable of all men. there, i said, i think that you are beginning to go wrong. what do you mean? i do not think that he has as yet reached the utmost extreme of misery. then who is more miserable? one of whom i am about to speak. who is that? he who is of a tyrannical nature, and instead of leading a private life has been cursed with the further misfortune of being a public tyrant. from what has been said, i gather that you are right. yes, i replied, but in this high argument you should be a little more certain, and should not conjecture only; for of all questions, this respecting good and evil is the greatest. very true, he said. let me then offer you an illustration, which may, i think, throw a light upon this subject. what is your illustration? the case of rich individuals in cities who possess many slaves: from them you may form an idea of the tyrant's condition, for they both have slaves; the only difference is that he has more slaves. yes, that is the difference. you know that they live securely and have nothing to apprehend from their servants? what should they fear? nothing. but do you observe the reason of this? yes; the reason is, that the whole city is leagued together for the protection of each individual. very true, i said. but imagine one of these owners, the master say of some fifty slaves, together with his family and property and slaves, carried off by a god into the wilderness, where there are no freemen to help him--will he not be in an agony of fear lest he and his wife and children should be put to death by his slaves? yes, he said, he will be in the utmost fear. the time has arrived when he will be compelled to flatter divers of his slaves, and make many promises to them of freedom and other things, much against his will--he will have to cajole his own servants. yes, he said, that will be the only way of saving himself. and suppose the same god, who carried him away, to surround him with neighbours who will not suffer one man to be the master of another, and who, if they could catch the offender, would take his life? his case will be still worse, if you suppose him to be everywhere surrounded and watched by enemies. and is not this the sort of prison in which the tyrant will be bound--he who being by nature such as we have described, is full of all sorts of fears and lusts? his soul is dainty and greedy, and yet alone, of all men in the city, he is never allowed to go on a journey, or to see the things which other freemen desire to see, but he lives in his hole like a woman hidden in the house, and is jealous of any other citizen who goes into foreign parts and sees anything of interest. very true, he said. and amid evils such as these will not he who is ill-governed in his own person--the tyrannical man, i mean--whom you just now decided to be the most miserable of all--will not he be yet more miserable when, instead of leading a private life, he is constrained by fortune to be a public tyrant? he has to be master of others when he is not master of himself: he is like a diseased or paralytic man who is compelled to pass his life, not in retirement, but fighting and combating with other men. yes, he said, the similitude is most exact. is not his case utterly miserable? and does not the actual tyrant lead a worse life than he whose life you determined to be the worst? certainly. he who is the real tyrant, whatever men may think, is the real slave, and is obliged to practise the greatest adulation and servility, and to be the flatterer of the vilest of mankind. he has desires which he is utterly unable to satisfy, and has more wants than any one, and is truly poor, if you know how to inspect the whole soul of him: all his life long he is beset with fear and is full of convulsions and distractions, even as the state which he resembles: and surely the resemblance holds? very true, he said. moreover, as we were saying before, he grows worse from having power: he becomes and is of necessity more jealous, more faithless, more unjust, more friendless, more impious, than he was at first; he is the purveyor and cherisher of every sort of vice, and the consequence is that he is supremely miserable, and that he makes everybody else as miserable as himself. no man of any sense will dispute your words. come then, i said, and as the general umpire in theatrical contests proclaims the result, do you also decide who in your opinion is first in the scale of happiness, and who second, and in what order the others follow: there are five of them in all--they are the royal, timocratical, oligarchical, democratical, tyrannical. the decision will be easily given, he replied; they shall be choruses coming on the stage, and i must judge them in the order in which they enter, by the criterion of virtue and vice, happiness and misery. need we hire a herald, or shall i announce, that the son of ariston (the best) has decided that the best and justest is also the happiest, and that this is he who is the most royal man and king over himself; and that the worst and most unjust man is also the most miserable, and that this is he who being the greatest tyrant of himself is also the greatest tyrant of his state? make the proclamation yourself, he said. and shall i add, 'whether seen or unseen by gods and men'? let the words be added. then this, i said, will be our first proof; and there is another, which may also have some weight. what is that? the second proof is derived from the nature of the soul: seeing that the individual soul, like the state, has been divided by us into three principles, the division may, i think, furnish a new demonstration. of what nature? it seems to me that to these three principles three pleasures correspond; also three desires and governing powers. how do you mean? he said. there is one principle with which, as we were saying, a man learns, another with which he is angry; the third, having many forms, has no special name, but is denoted by the general term appetitive, from the extraordinary strength and vehemence of the desires of eating and drinking and the other sensual appetites which are the main elements of it; also money-loving, because such desires are generally satisfied by the help of money. that is true, he said. if we were to say that the loves and pleasures of this third part were concerned with gain, we should then be able to fall back on a single notion; and might truly and intelligibly describe this part of the soul as loving gain or money. i agree with you. again, is not the passionate element wholly set on ruling and conquering and getting fame? true. suppose we call it the contentious or ambitious--would the term be suitable? extremely suitable. on the other hand, every one sees that the principle of knowledge is wholly directed to the truth, and cares less than either of the others for gain or fame. far less. 'lover of wisdom,' 'lover of knowledge,' are titles which we may fitly apply to that part of the soul? certainly. one principle prevails in the souls of one class of men, another in others, as may happen? yes. then we may begin by assuming that there are three classes of men--lovers of wisdom, lovers of honour, lovers of gain? exactly. and there are three kinds of pleasure, which are their several objects? very true. now, if you examine the three classes of men, and ask of them in turn which of their lives is pleasantest, each will be found praising his own and depreciating that of others: the money-maker will contrast the vanity of honour or of learning if they bring no money with the solid advantages of gold and silver? true, he said. and the lover of honour--what will be his opinion? will he not think that the pleasure of riches is vulgar, while the pleasure of learning, if it brings no distinction, is all smoke and nonsense to him? very true. and are we to suppose, i said, that the philosopher sets any value on other pleasures in comparison with the pleasure of knowing the truth, and in that pursuit abiding, ever learning, not so far indeed from the heaven of pleasure? does he not call the other pleasures necessary, under the idea that if there were no necessity for them, he would rather not have them? there can be no doubt of that, he replied. since, then, the pleasures of each class and the life of each are in dispute, and the question is not which life is more or less honourable, or better or worse, but which is the more pleasant or painless--how shall we know who speaks truly? i cannot myself tell, he said. well, but what ought to be the criterion? is any better than experience and wisdom and reason? there cannot be a better, he said. then, i said, reflect. of the three individuals, which has the greatest experience of all the pleasures which we enumerated? has the lover of gain, in learning the nature of essential truth, greater experience of the pleasure of knowledge than the philosopher has of the pleasure of gain? the philosopher, he replied, has greatly the advantage; for he has of necessity always known the taste of the other pleasures from his childhood upwards: but the lover of gain in all his experience has not of necessity tasted--or, i should rather say, even had he desired, could hardly have tasted--the sweetness of learning and knowing truth. then the lover of wisdom has a great advantage over the lover of gain, for he has a double experience? yes, very great. again, has he greater experience of the pleasures of honour, or the lover of honour of the pleasures of wisdom? nay, he said, all three are honoured in proportion as they attain their object; for the rich man and the brave man and the wise man alike have their crowd of admirers, and as they all receive honour they all have experience of the pleasures of honour; but the delight which is to be found in the knowledge of true being is known to the philosopher only. his experience, then, will enable him to judge better than any one? far better. and he is the only one who has wisdom as well as experience? certainly. further, the very faculty which is the instrument of judgment is not possessed by the covetous or ambitious man, but only by the philosopher? what faculty? reason, with whom, as we were saying, the decision ought to rest. yes. and reasoning is peculiarly his instrument? certainly. if wealth and gain were the criterion, then the praise or blame of the lover of gain would surely be the most trustworthy? assuredly. or if honour or victory or courage, in that case the judgment of the ambitious or pugnacious would be the truest? clearly. but since experience and wisdom and reason are the judges-- the only inference possible, he replied, is that pleasures which are approved by the lover of wisdom and reason are the truest. and so we arrive at the result, that the pleasure of the intelligent part of the soul is the pleasantest of the three, and that he of us in whom this is the ruling principle has the pleasantest life. unquestionably, he said, the wise man speaks with authority when he approves of his own life. and what does the judge affirm to be the life which is next, and the pleasure which is next? clearly that of the soldier and lover of honour; who is nearer to himself than the money-maker. last comes the lover of gain? very true, he said. twice in succession, then, has the just man overthrown the unjust in this conflict; and now comes the third trial, which is dedicated to olympian zeus the saviour: a sage whispers in my ear that no pleasure except that of the wise is quite true and pure--all others are a shadow only; and surely this will prove the greatest and most decisive of falls? yes, the greatest; but will you explain yourself? i will work out the subject and you shall answer my questions. proceed. say, then, is not pleasure opposed to pain? true. and there is a neutral state which is neither pleasure nor pain? there is. a state which is intermediate, and a sort of repose of the soul about either--that is what you mean? yes. you remember what people say when they are sick? what do they say? that after all nothing is pleasanter than health. but then they never knew this to be the greatest of pleasures until they were ill. yes, i know, he said. and when persons are suffering from acute pain, you must have heard them say that there is nothing pleasanter than to get rid of their pain? i have. and there are many other cases of suffering in which the mere rest and cessation of pain, and not any positive enjoyment, is extolled by them as the greatest pleasure? yes, he said; at the time they are pleased and well content to be at rest. again, when pleasure ceases, that sort of rest or cessation will be painful? doubtless, he said. then the intermediate state of rest will be pleasure and will also be pain? so it would seem. but can that which is neither become both? i should say not. and both pleasure and pain are motions of the soul, are they not? yes. but that which is neither was just now shown to be rest and not motion, and in a mean between them? yes. how, then, can we be right in supposing that the absence of pain is pleasure, or that the absence of pleasure is pain? impossible. this then is an appearance only and not a reality; that is to say, the rest is pleasure at the moment and in comparison of what is painful, and painful in comparison of what is pleasant; but all these representations, when tried by the test of true pleasure, are not real but a sort of imposition? that is the inference. look at the other class of pleasures which have no antecedent pains and you will no longer suppose, as you perhaps may at present, that pleasure is only the cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure. what are they, he said, and where shall i find them? there are many of them: take as an example the pleasures of smell, which are very great and have no antecedent pains; they come in a moment, and when they depart leave no pain behind them. most true, he said. let us not, then, be induced to believe that pure pleasure is the cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure. no. still, the more numerous and violent pleasures which reach the soul through the body are generally of this sort--they are reliefs of pain. that is true. and the anticipations of future pleasures and pains are of a like nature? yes. shall i give you an illustration of them? let me hear. you would allow, i said, that there is in nature an upper and lower and middle region? i should. and if a person were to go from the lower to the middle region, would he not imagine that he is going up; and he who is standing in the middle and sees whence he has come, would imagine that he is already in the upper region, if he has never seen the true upper world? to be sure, he said; how can he think otherwise? but if he were taken back again he would imagine, and truly imagine, that he was descending? no doubt. all that would arise out of his ignorance of the true upper and middle and lower regions? yes. then can you wonder that persons who are inexperienced in the truth, as they have wrong ideas about many other things, should also have wrong ideas about pleasure and pain and the intermediate state; so that when they are only being drawn towards the painful they feel pain and think the pain which they experience to be real, and in like manner, when drawn away from pain to the neutral or intermediate state, they firmly believe that they have reached the goal of satiety and pleasure; they, not knowing pleasure, err in contrasting pain with the absence of pain, which is like contrasting black with grey instead of white--can you wonder, i say, at this? no, indeed; i should be much more disposed to wonder at the opposite. look at the matter thus:--hunger, thirst, and the like, are inanitions of the bodily state? yes. and ignorance and folly are inanitions of the soul? true. and food and wisdom are the corresponding satisfactions of either? certainly. and is the satisfaction derived from that which has less or from that which has more existence the truer? clearly, from that which has more. what classes of things have a greater share of pure existence in your judgment--those of which food and drink and condiments and all kinds of sustenance are examples, or the class which contains true opinion and knowledge and mind and all the different kinds of virtue? put the question in this way:--which has a more pure being--that which is concerned with the invariable, the immortal, and the true, and is of such a nature, and is found in such natures; or that which is concerned with and found in the variable and mortal, and is itself variable and mortal? far purer, he replied, is the being of that which is concerned with the invariable. and does the essence of the invariable partake of knowledge in the same degree as of essence? yes, of knowledge in the same degree. and of truth in the same degree? yes. and, conversely, that which has less of truth will also have less of essence? necessarily. then, in general, those kinds of things which are in the service of the body have less of truth and essence than those which are in the service of the soul? far less. and has not the body itself less of truth and essence than the soul? yes. what is filled with more real existence, and actually has a more real existence, is more really filled than that which is filled with less real existence and is less real? of course. and if there be a pleasure in being filled with that which is according to nature, that which is more really filled with more real being will more really and truly enjoy true pleasure; whereas that which participates in less real being will be less truly and surely satisfied, and will participate in an illusory and less real pleasure? unquestionably. those then who know not wisdom and virtue, and are always busy with gluttony and sensuality, go down and up again as far as the mean; and in this region they move at random throughout life, but they never pass into the true upper world; thither they neither look, nor do they ever find their way, neither are they truly filled with true being, nor do they taste of pure and abiding pleasure. like cattle, with their eyes always looking down and their heads stooping to the earth, that is, to the dining-table, they fatten and feed and breed, and, in their excessive love of these delights, they kick and butt at one another with horns and hoofs which are made of iron; and they kill one another by reason of their insatiable lust. for they fill themselves with that which is not substantial, and the part of themselves which they fill is also unsubstantial and incontinent. verily, socrates, said glaucon, you describe the life of the many like an oracle. their pleasures are mixed with pains--how can they be otherwise? for they are mere shadows and pictures of the true, and are coloured by contrast, which exaggerates both light and shade, and so they implant in the minds of fools insane desires of themselves; and they are fought about as stesichorus says that the greeks fought about the shadow of helen at troy in ignorance of the truth. something of that sort must inevitably happen. and must not the like happen with the spirited or passionate element of the soul? will not the passionate man who carries his passion into action, be in the like case, whether he is envious and ambitious, or violent and contentious, or angry and discontented, if he be seeking to attain honour and victory and the satisfaction of his anger without reason or sense? yes, he said, the same will happen with the spirited element also. then may we not confidently assert that the lovers of money and honour, when they seek their pleasures under the guidance and in the company of reason and knowledge, and pursue after and win the pleasures which wisdom shows them, will also have the truest pleasures in the highest degree which is attainable to them, inasmuch as they follow truth; and they will have the pleasures which are natural to them, if that which is best for each one is also most natural to him? yes, certainly; the best is the most natural. and when the whole soul follows the philosophical principle, and there is no division, the several parts are just, and do each of them their own business, and enjoy severally the best and truest pleasures of which they are capable? exactly. but when either of the two other principles prevails, it fails in attaining its own pleasure, and compels the rest to pursue after a pleasure which is a shadow only and which is not their own? true. and the greater the interval which separates them from philosophy and reason, the more strange and illusive will be the pleasure? yes. and is not that farthest from reason which is at the greatest distance from law and order? clearly. and the lustful and tyrannical desires are, as we saw, at the greatest distance? yes. and the royal and orderly desires are nearest? yes. then the tyrant will live at the greatest distance from true or natural pleasure, and the king at the least? certainly. but if so, the tyrant will live most unpleasantly, and the king most pleasantly? inevitably. would you know the measure of the interval which separates them? will you tell me? there appear to be three pleasures, one genuine and two spurious: now the transgression of the tyrant reaches a point beyond the spurious; he has run away from the region of law and reason, and taken up his abode with certain slave pleasures which are his satellites, and the measure of his inferiority can only be expressed in a figure. how do you mean? i assume, i said, that the tyrant is in the third place from the oligarch; the democrat was in the middle? yes. and if there is truth in what has preceded, he will be wedded to an image of pleasure which is thrice removed as to truth from the pleasure of the oligarch? he will. and the oligarch is third from the royal; since we count as one royal and aristocratical? yes, he is third. then the tyrant is removed from true pleasure by the space of a number which is three times three? manifestly. the shadow then of tyrannical pleasure determined by the number of length will be a plane figure. certainly. and if you raise the power and make the plane a solid, there is no difficulty in seeing how vast is the interval by which the tyrant is parted from the king. yes; the arithmetician will easily do the sum. or if some person begins at the other end and measures the interval by which the king is parted from the tyrant in truth of pleasure, he will find him, when the multiplication is completed, living times more pleasantly, and the tyrant more painfully by this same interval. what a wonderful calculation! and how enormous is the distance which separates the just from the unjust in regard to pleasure and pain! yet a true calculation, i said, and a number which nearly concerns human life, if human beings are concerned with days and nights and months and years. ( nearly equals the number of days and nights in the year.) yes, he said, human life is certainly concerned with them. then if the good and just man be thus superior in pleasure to the evil and unjust, his superiority will be infinitely greater in propriety of life and in beauty and virtue? immeasurably greater. well, i said, and now having arrived at this stage of the argument, we may revert to the words which brought us hither: was not some one saying that injustice was a gain to the perfectly unjust who was reputed to be just? yes, that was said. now then, having determined the power and quality of justice and injustice, let us have a little conversation with him. what shall we say to him? let us make an image of the soul, that he may have his own words presented before his eyes. of what sort? an ideal image of the soul, like the composite creations of ancient mythology, such as the chimera or scylla or cerberus, and there are many others in which two or more different natures are said to grow into one. there are said of have been such unions. then do you now model the form of a multitudinous, many-headed monster, having a ring of heads of all manner of beasts, tame and wild, which he is able to generate and metamorphose at will. you suppose marvellous powers in the artist; but, as language is more pliable than wax or any similar substance, let there be such a model as you propose. suppose now that you make a second form as of a lion, and a third of a man, the second smaller than the first, and the third smaller than the second. that, he said, is an easier task; and i have made them as you say. and now join them, and let the three grow into one. that has been accomplished. next fashion the outside of them into a single image, as of a man, so that he who is not able to look within, and sees only the outer hull, may believe the beast to be a single human creature. i have done so, he said. and now, to him who maintains that it is profitable for the human creature to be unjust, and unprofitable to be just, let us reply that, if he be right, it is profitable for this creature to feast the multitudinous monster and strengthen the lion and the lion-like qualities, but to starve and weaken the man, who is consequently liable to be dragged about at the mercy of either of the other two; and he is not to attempt to familiarize or harmonize them with one another--he ought rather to suffer them to fight and bite and devour one another. certainly, he said; that is what the approver of injustice says. to him the supporter of justice makes answer that he should ever so speak and act as to give the man within him in some way or other the most complete mastery over the entire human creature. he should watch over the many-headed monster like a good husbandman, fostering and cultivating the gentle qualities, and preventing the wild ones from growing; he should be making the lion-heart his ally, and in common care of them all should be uniting the several parts with one another and with himself. yes, he said, that is quite what the maintainer of justice say. and so from every point of view, whether of pleasure, honour, or advantage, the approver of justice is right and speaks the truth, and the disapprover is wrong and false and ignorant? yes, from every point of view. come, now, and let us gently reason with the unjust, who is not intentionally in error. 'sweet sir,' we will say to him, 'what think you of things esteemed noble and ignoble? is not the noble that which subjects the beast to the man, or rather to the god in man; and the ignoble that which subjects the man to the beast?' he can hardly avoid saying yes--can he now? not if he has any regard for my opinion. but, if he agree so far, we may ask him to answer another question: 'then how would a man profit if he received gold and silver on the condition that he was to enslave the noblest part of him to the worst? who can imagine that a man who sold his son or daughter into slavery for money, especially if he sold them into the hands of fierce and evil men, would be the gainer, however large might be the sum which he received? and will any one say that he is not a miserable caitiff who remorselessly sells his own divine being to that which is most godless and detestable? eriphyle took the necklace as the price of her husband's life, but he is taking a bribe in order to compass a worse ruin.' yes, said glaucon, far worse--i will answer for him. has not the intemperate been censured of old, because in him the huge multiform monster is allowed to be too much at large? clearly. and men are blamed for pride and bad temper when the lion and serpent element in them disproportionately grows and gains strength? yes. and luxury and softness are blamed, because they relax and weaken this same creature, and make a coward of him? very true. and is not a man reproached for flattery and meanness who subordinates the spirited animal to the unruly monster, and, for the sake of money, of which he can never have enough, habituates him in the days of his youth to be trampled in the mire, and from being a lion to become a monkey? true, he said. and why are mean employments and manual arts a reproach? only because they imply a natural weakness of the higher principle; the individual is unable to control the creatures within him, but has to court them, and his great study is how to flatter them. such appears to be the reason. and therefore, being desirous of placing him under a rule like that of the best, we say that he ought to be the servant of the best, in whom the divine rules; not, as thrasymachus supposed, to the injury of the servant, but because every one had better be ruled by divine wisdom dwelling within him; or, if this be impossible, then by an external authority, in order that we may be all, as far as possible, under the same government, friends and equals. true, he said. and this is clearly seen to be the intention of the law, which is the ally of the whole city; and is seen also in the authority which we exercise over children, and the refusal to let them be free until we have established in them a principle analogous to the constitution of a state, and by cultivation of this higher element have set up in their hearts a guardian and ruler like our own, and when this is done they may go their ways. yes, he said, the purpose of the law is manifest. from what point of view, then, and on what ground can we say that a man is profited by injustice or intemperance or other baseness, which will make him a worse man, even though he acquire money or power by his wickedness? from no point of view at all. what shall he profit, if his injustice be undetected and unpunished? he who is undetected only gets worse, whereas he who is detected and punished has the brutal part of his nature silenced and humanized; the gentler element in him is liberated, and his whole soul is perfected and ennobled by the acquirement of justice and temperance and wisdom, more than the body ever is by receiving gifts of beauty, strength and health, in proportion as the soul is more honourable than the body. certainly, he said. to this nobler purpose the man of understanding will devote the energies of his life. and in the first place, he will honour studies which impress these qualities on his soul and will disregard others? clearly, he said. in the next place, he will regulate his bodily habit and training, and so far will he be from yielding to brutal and irrational pleasures, that he will regard even health as quite a secondary matter; his first object will be not that he may be fair or strong or well, unless he is likely thereby to gain temperance, but he will always desire so to attemper the body as to preserve the harmony of the soul? certainly he will, if he has true music in him. and in the acquisition of wealth there is a principle of order and harmony which he will also observe; he will not allow himself to be dazzled by the foolish applause of the world, and heap up riches to his own infinite harm? certainly not, he said. he will look at the city which is within him, and take heed that no disorder occur in it, such as might arise either from superfluity or from want; and upon this principle he will regulate his property and gain or spend according to his means. very true. and, for the same reason, he will gladly accept and enjoy such honours as he deems likely to make him a better man; but those, whether private or public, which are likely to disorder his life, he will avoid? then, if that is his motive, he will not be a statesman. by the dog of egypt, he will! in the city which is his own he certainly will, though in the land of his birth perhaps not, unless he have a divine call. i understand; you mean that he will be a ruler in the city of which we are the founders, and which exists in idea only; for i do not believe that there is such an one anywhere on earth? in heaven, i replied, there is laid up a pattern of it, methinks, which he who desires may behold, and beholding, may set his own house in order. but whether such an one exists, or ever will exist in fact, is no matter; for he will live after the manner of that city, having nothing to do with any other. i think so, he said. book x. of the many excellences which i perceive in the order of our state, there is none which upon reflection pleases me better than the rule about poetry. to what do you refer? to the rejection of imitative poetry, which certainly ought not to be received; as i see far more clearly now that the parts of the soul have been distinguished. what do you mean? speaking in confidence, for i should not like to have my words repeated to the tragedians and the rest of the imitative tribe--but i do not mind saying to you, that all poetical imitations are ruinous to the understanding of the hearers, and that the knowledge of their true nature is the only antidote to them. explain the purport of your remark. well, i will tell you, although i have always from my earliest youth had an awe and love of homer, which even now makes the words falter on my lips, for he is the great captain and teacher of the whole of that charming tragic company; but a man is not to be reverenced more than the truth, and therefore i will speak out. very good, he said. listen to me then, or rather, answer me. put your question. can you tell me what imitation is? for i really do not know. a likely thing, then, that i should know. why not? for the duller eye may often see a thing sooner than the keener. very true, he said; but in your presence, even if i had any faint notion, i could not muster courage to utter it. will you enquire yourself? well then, shall we begin the enquiry in our usual manner: whenever a number of individuals have a common name, we assume them to have also a corresponding idea or form:--do you understand me? i do. let us take any common instance; there are beds and tables in the world--plenty of them, are there not? yes. but there are only two ideas or forms of them--one the idea of a bed, the other of a table. true. and the maker of either of them makes a bed or he makes a table for our use, in accordance with the idea--that is our way of speaking in this and similar instances--but no artificer makes the ideas themselves: how could he? impossible. and there is another artist,--i should like to know what you would say of him. who is he? one who is the maker of all the works of all other workmen. what an extraordinary man! wait a little, and there will be more reason for your saying so. for this is he who is able to make not only vessels of every kind, but plants and animals, himself and all other things--the earth and heaven, and the things which are in heaven or under the earth; he makes the gods also. he must be a wizard and no mistake. oh! you are incredulous, are you? do you mean that there is no such maker or creator, or that in one sense there might be a maker of all these things but in another not? do you see that there is a way in which you could make them all yourself? what way? an easy way enough; or rather, there are many ways in which the feat might be quickly and easily accomplished, none quicker than that of turning a mirror round and round--you would soon enough make the sun and the heavens, and the earth and yourself, and other animals and plants, and all the other things of which we were just now speaking, in the mirror. yes, he said; but they would be appearances only. very good, i said, you are coming to the point now. and the painter too is, as i conceive, just such another--a creator of appearances, is he not? of course. but then i suppose you will say that what he creates is untrue. and yet there is a sense in which the painter also creates a bed? yes, he said, but not a real bed. and what of the maker of the bed? were you not saying that he too makes, not the idea which, according to our view, is the essence of the bed, but only a particular bed? yes, i did. then if he does not make that which exists he cannot make true existence, but only some semblance of existence; and if any one were to say that the work of the maker of the bed, or of any other workman, has real existence, he could hardly be supposed to be speaking the truth. at any rate, he replied, philosophers would say that he was not speaking the truth. no wonder, then, that his work too is an indistinct expression of truth. no wonder. suppose now that by the light of the examples just offered we enquire who this imitator is? if you please. well then, here are three beds: one existing in nature, which is made by god, as i think that we may say--for no one else can be the maker? no. there is another which is the work of the carpenter? yes. and the work of the painter is a third? yes. beds, then, are of three kinds, and there are three artists who superintend them: god, the maker of the bed, and the painter? yes, there are three of them. god, whether from choice or from necessity, made one bed in nature and one only; two or more such ideal beds neither ever have been nor ever will be made by god. why is that? because even if he had made but two, a third would still appear behind them which both of them would have for their idea, and that would be the ideal bed and not the two others. very true, he said. god knew this, and he desired to be the real maker of a real bed, not a particular maker of a particular bed, and therefore he created a bed which is essentially and by nature one only. so we believe. shall we, then, speak of him as the natural author or maker of the bed? yes, he replied; inasmuch as by the natural process of creation he is the author of this and of all other things. and what shall we say of the carpenter--is not he also the maker of the bed? yes. but would you call the painter a creator and maker? certainly not. yet if he is not the maker, what is he in relation to the bed? i think, he said, that we may fairly designate him as the imitator of that which the others make. good, i said; then you call him who is third in the descent from nature an imitator? certainly, he said. and the tragic poet is an imitator, and therefore, like all other imitators, he is thrice removed from the king and from the truth? that appears to be so. then about the imitator we are agreed. and what about the painter?--i would like to know whether he may be thought to imitate that which originally exists in nature, or only the creations of artists? the latter. as they are or as they appear? you have still to determine this. what do you mean? i mean, that you may look at a bed from different points of view, obliquely or directly or from any other point of view, and the bed will appear different, but there is no difference in reality. and the same of all things. yes, he said, the difference is only apparent. now let me ask you another question: which is the art of painting designed to be--an imitation of things as they are, or as they appear--of appearance or of reality? of appearance. then the imitator, i said, is a long way off the truth, and can do all things because he lightly touches on a small part of them, and that part an image. for example: a painter will paint a cobbler, carpenter, or any other artist, though he knows nothing of their arts; and, if he is a good artist, he may deceive children or simple persons, when he shows them his picture of a carpenter from a distance, and they will fancy that they are looking at a real carpenter. certainly. and whenever any one informs us that he has found a man who knows all the arts, and all things else that anybody knows, and every single thing with a higher degree of accuracy than any other man--whoever tells us this, i think that we can only imagine him to be a simple creature who is likely to have been deceived by some wizard or actor whom he met, and whom he thought all-knowing, because he himself was unable to analyse the nature of knowledge and ignorance and imitation. most true. and so, when we hear persons saying that the tragedians, and homer, who is at their head, know all the arts and all things human, virtue as well as vice, and divine things too, for that the good poet cannot compose well unless he knows his subject, and that he who has not this knowledge can never be a poet, we ought to consider whether here also there may not be a similar illusion. perhaps they may have come across imitators and been deceived by them; they may not have remembered when they saw their works that these were but imitations thrice removed from the truth, and could easily be made without any knowledge of the truth, because they are appearances only and not realities? or, after all, they may be in the right, and poets do really know the things about which they seem to the many to speak so well? the question, he said, should by all means be considered. now do you suppose that if a person were able to make the original as well as the image, he would seriously devote himself to the image-making branch? would he allow imitation to be the ruling principle of his life, as if he had nothing higher in him? i should say not. the real artist, who knew what he was imitating, would be interested in realities and not in imitations; and would desire to leave as memorials of himself works many and fair; and, instead of being the author of encomiums, he would prefer to be the theme of them. yes, he said, that would be to him a source of much greater honour and profit. then, i said, we must put a question to homer; not about medicine, or any of the arts to which his poems only incidentally refer: we are not going to ask him, or any other poet, whether he has cured patients like asclepius, or left behind him a school of medicine such as the asclepiads were, or whether he only talks about medicine and other arts at second-hand; but we have a right to know respecting military tactics, politics, education, which are the chiefest and noblest subjects of his poems, and we may fairly ask him about them. 'friend homer,' then we say to him, 'if you are only in the second remove from truth in what you say of virtue, and not in the third--not an image maker or imitator--and if you are able to discern what pursuits make men better or worse in private or public life, tell us what state was ever better governed by your help? the good order of lacedaemon is due to lycurgus, and many other cities great and small have been similarly benefited by others; but who says that you have been a good legislator to them and have done them any good? italy and sicily boast of charondas, and there is solon who is renowned among us; but what city has anything to say about you?' is there any city which he might name? i think not, said glaucon; not even the homerids themselves pretend that he was a legislator. well, but is there any war on record which was carried on successfully by him, or aided by his counsels, when he was alive? there is not. or is there any invention of his, applicable to the arts or to human life, such as thales the milesian or anacharsis the scythian, and other ingenious men have conceived, which is attributed to him? there is absolutely nothing of the kind. but, if homer never did any public service, was he privately a guide or teacher of any? had he in his lifetime friends who loved to associate with him, and who handed down to posterity an homeric way of life, such as was established by pythagoras who was so greatly beloved for his wisdom, and whose followers are to this day quite celebrated for the order which was named after him? nothing of the kind is recorded of him. for surely, socrates, creophylus, the companion of homer, that child of flesh, whose name always makes us laugh, might be more justly ridiculed for his stupidity, if, as is said, homer was greatly neglected by him and others in his own day when he was alive? yes, i replied, that is the tradition. but can you imagine, glaucon, that if homer had really been able to educate and improve mankind--if he had possessed knowledge and not been a mere imitator--can you imagine, i say, that he would not have had many followers, and been honoured and loved by them? protagoras of abdera, and prodicus of ceos, and a host of others, have only to whisper to their contemporaries: 'you will never be able to manage either your own house or your own state until you appoint us to be your ministers of education'--and this ingenious device of theirs has such an effect in making men love them that their companions all but carry them about on their shoulders. and is it conceivable that the contemporaries of homer, or again of hesiod, would have allowed either of them to go about as rhapsodists, if they had really been able to make mankind virtuous? would they not have been as unwilling to part with them as with gold, and have compelled them to stay at home with them? or, if the master would not stay, then the disciples would have followed him about everywhere, until they had got education enough? yes, socrates, that, i think, is quite true. then must we not infer that all these poetical individuals, beginning with homer, are only imitators; they copy images of virtue and the like, but the truth they never reach? the poet is like a painter who, as we have already observed, will make a likeness of a cobbler though he understands nothing of cobbling; and his picture is good enough for those who know no more than he does, and judge only by colours and figures. quite so. in like manner the poet with his words and phrases may be said to lay on the colours of the several arts, himself understanding their nature only enough to imitate them; and other people, who are as ignorant as he is, and judge only from his words, imagine that if he speaks of cobbling, or of military tactics, or of anything else, in metre and harmony and rhythm, he speaks very well--such is the sweet influence which melody and rhythm by nature have. and i think that you must have observed again and again what a poor appearance the tales of poets make when stripped of the colours which music puts upon them, and recited in simple prose. yes, he said. they are like faces which were never really beautiful, but only blooming; and now the bloom of youth has passed away from them? exactly. here is another point: the imitator or maker of the image knows nothing of true existence; he knows appearances only. am i not right? yes. then let us have a clear understanding, and not be satisfied with half an explanation. proceed. of the painter we say that he will paint reins, and he will paint a bit? yes. and the worker in leather and brass will make them? certainly. but does the painter know the right form of the bit and reins? nay, hardly even the workers in brass and leather who make them; only the horseman who knows how to use them--he knows their right form. most true. and may we not say the same of all things? what? that there are three arts which are concerned with all things: one which uses, another which makes, a third which imitates them? yes. and the excellence or beauty or truth of every structure, animate or inanimate, and of every action of man, is relative to the use for which nature or the artist has intended them. true. then the user of them must have the greatest experience of them, and he must indicate to the maker the good or bad qualities which develop themselves in use; for example, the flute-player will tell the flute-maker which of his flutes is satisfactory to the performer; he will tell him how he ought to make them, and the other will attend to his instructions? of course. the one knows and therefore speaks with authority about the goodness and badness of flutes, while the other, confiding in him, will do what he is told by him? true. the instrument is the same, but about the excellence or badness of it the maker will only attain to a correct belief; and this he will gain from him who knows, by talking to him and being compelled to hear what he has to say, whereas the user will have knowledge? true. but will the imitator have either? will he know from use whether or no his drawing is correct or beautiful? or will he have right opinion from being compelled to associate with another who knows and gives him instructions about what he should draw? neither. then he will no more have true opinion than he will have knowledge about the goodness or badness of his imitations? i suppose not. the imitative artist will be in a brilliant state of intelligence about his own creations? nay, very much the reverse. and still he will go on imitating without knowing what makes a thing good or bad, and may be expected therefore to imitate only that which appears to be good to the ignorant multitude? just so. thus far then we are pretty well agreed that the imitator has no knowledge worth mentioning of what he imitates. imitation is only a kind of play or sport, and the tragic poets, whether they write in iambic or in heroic verse, are imitators in the highest degree? very true. and now tell me, i conjure you, has not imitation been shown by us to be concerned with that which is thrice removed from the truth? certainly. and what is the faculty in man to which imitation is addressed? what do you mean? i will explain: the body which is large when seen near, appears small when seen at a distance? true. and the same object appears straight when looked at out of the water, and crooked when in the water; and the concave becomes convex, owing to the illusion about colours to which the sight is liable. thus every sort of confusion is revealed within us; and this is that weakness of the human mind on which the art of conjuring and of deceiving by light and shadow and other ingenious devices imposes, having an effect upon us like magic. true. and the arts of measuring and numbering and weighing come to the rescue of the human understanding--there is the beauty of them--and the apparent greater or less, or more or heavier, no longer have the mastery over us, but give way before calculation and measure and weight? most true. and this, surely, must be the work of the calculating and rational principle in the soul? to be sure. and when this principle measures and certifies that some things are equal, or that some are greater or less than others, there occurs an apparent contradiction? true. but were we not saying that such a contradiction is impossible--the same faculty cannot have contrary opinions at the same time about the same thing? very true. then that part of the soul which has an opinion contrary to measure is not the same with that which has an opinion in accordance with measure? true. and the better part of the soul is likely to be that which trusts to measure and calculation? certainly. and that which is opposed to them is one of the inferior principles of the soul? no doubt. this was the conclusion at which i was seeking to arrive when i said that painting or drawing, and imitation in general, when doing their own proper work, are far removed from truth, and the companions and friends and associates of a principle within us which is equally removed from reason, and that they have no true or healthy aim. exactly. the imitative art is an inferior who marries an inferior, and has inferior offspring. very true. and is this confined to the sight only, or does it extend to the hearing also, relating in fact to what we term poetry? probably the same would be true of poetry. do not rely, i said, on a probability derived from the analogy of painting; but let us examine further and see whether the faculty with which poetical imitation is concerned is good or bad. by all means. we may state the question thus:--imitation imitates the actions of men, whether voluntary or involuntary, on which, as they imagine, a good or bad result has ensued, and they rejoice or sorrow accordingly. is there anything more? no, there is nothing else. but in all this variety of circumstances is the man at unity with himself--or rather, as in the instance of sight there was confusion and opposition in his opinions about the same things, so here also is there not strife and inconsistency in his life? though i need hardly raise the question again, for i remember that all this has been already admitted; and the soul has been acknowledged by us to be full of these and ten thousand similar oppositions occurring at the same moment? and we were right, he said. yes, i said, thus far we were right; but there was an omission which must now be supplied. what was the omission? were we not saying that a good man, who has the misfortune to lose his son or anything else which is most dear to him, will bear the loss with more equanimity than another? yes. but will he have no sorrow, or shall we say that although he cannot help sorrowing, he will moderate his sorrow? the latter, he said, is the truer statement. tell me: will he be more likely to struggle and hold out against his sorrow when he is seen by his equals, or when he is alone? it will make a great difference whether he is seen or not. when he is by himself he will not mind saying or doing many things which he would be ashamed of any one hearing or seeing him do? true. there is a principle of law and reason in him which bids him resist, as well as a feeling of his misfortune which is forcing him to indulge his sorrow? true. but when a man is drawn in two opposite directions, to and from the same object, this, as we affirm, necessarily implies two distinct principles in him? certainly. one of them is ready to follow the guidance of the law? how do you mean? the law would say that to be patient under suffering is best, and that we should not give way to impatience, as there is no knowing whether such things are good or evil; and nothing is gained by impatience; also, because no human thing is of serious importance, and grief stands in the way of that which at the moment is most required. what is most required? he asked. that we should take counsel about what has happened, and when the dice have been thrown order our affairs in the way which reason deems best; not, like children who have had a fall, keeping hold of the part struck and wasting time in setting up a howl, but always accustoming the soul forthwith to apply a remedy, raising up that which is sickly and fallen, banishing the cry of sorrow by the healing art. yes, he said, that is the true way of meeting the attacks of fortune. yes, i said; and the higher principle is ready to follow this suggestion of reason? clearly. and the other principle, which inclines us to recollection of our troubles and to lamentation, and can never have enough of them, we may call irrational, useless, and cowardly? indeed, we may. and does not the latter--i mean the rebellious principle--furnish a great variety of materials for imitation? whereas the wise and calm temperament, being always nearly equable, is not easy to imitate or to appreciate when imitated, especially at a public festival when a promiscuous crowd is assembled in a theatre. for the feeling represented is one to which they are strangers. certainly. then the imitative poet who aims at being popular is not by nature made, nor is his art intended, to please or to affect the rational principle in the soul; but he will prefer the passionate and fitful temper, which is easily imitated? clearly. and now we may fairly take him and place him by the side of the painter, for he is like him in two ways: first, inasmuch as his creations have an inferior degree of truth--in this, i say, he is like him; and he is also like him in being concerned with an inferior part of the soul; and therefore we shall be right in refusing to admit him into a well-ordered state, because he awakens and nourishes and strengthens the feelings and impairs the reason. as in a city when the evil are permitted to have authority and the good are put out of the way, so in the soul of man, as we maintain, the imitative poet implants an evil constitution, for he indulges the irrational nature which has no discernment of greater and less, but thinks the same thing at one time great and at another small--he is a manufacturer of images and is very far removed from the truth. exactly. but we have not yet brought forward the heaviest count in our accusation:--the power which poetry has of harming even the good (and there are very few who are not harmed), is surely an awful thing? yes, certainly, if the effect is what you say. hear and judge: the best of us, as i conceive, when we listen to a passage of homer, or one of the tragedians, in which he represents some pitiful hero who is drawling out his sorrows in a long oration, or weeping, and smiting his breast--the best of us, you know, delight in giving way to sympathy, and are in raptures at the excellence of the poet who stirs our feelings most. yes, of course i know. but when any sorrow of our own happens to us, then you may observe that we pride ourselves on the opposite quality--we would fain be quiet and patient; this is the manly part, and the other which delighted us in the recitation is now deemed to be the part of a woman. very true, he said. now can we be right in praising and admiring another who is doing that which any one of us would abominate and be ashamed of in his own person? no, he said, that is certainly not reasonable. nay, i said, quite reasonable from one point of view. what point of view? if you consider, i said, that when in misfortune we feel a natural hunger and desire to relieve our sorrow by weeping and lamentation, and that this feeling which is kept under control in our own calamities is satisfied and delighted by the poets;--the better nature in each of us, not having been sufficiently trained by reason or habit, allows the sympathetic element to break loose because the sorrow is another's; and the spectator fancies that there can be no disgrace to himself in praising and pitying any one who comes telling him what a good man he is, and making a fuss about his troubles; he thinks that the pleasure is a gain, and why should he be supercilious and lose this and the poem too? few persons ever reflect, as i should imagine, that from the evil of other men something of evil is communicated to themselves. and so the feeling of sorrow which has gathered strength at the sight of the misfortunes of others is with difficulty repressed in our own. how very true! and does not the same hold also of the ridiculous? there are jests which you would be ashamed to make yourself, and yet on the comic stage, or indeed in private, when you hear them, you are greatly amused by them, and are not at all disgusted at their unseemliness;--the case of pity is repeated;--there is a principle in human nature which is disposed to raise a laugh, and this which you once restrained by reason, because you were afraid of being thought a buffoon, is now let out again; and having stimulated the risible faculty at the theatre, you are betrayed unconsciously to yourself into playing the comic poet at home. quite true, he said. and the same may be said of lust and anger and all the other affections, of desire and pain and pleasure, which are held to be inseparable from every action--in all of them poetry feeds and waters the passions instead of drying them up; she lets them rule, although they ought to be controlled, if mankind are ever to increase in happiness and virtue. i cannot deny it. therefore, glaucon, i said, whenever you meet with any of the eulogists of homer declaring that he has been the educator of hellas, and that he is profitable for education and for the ordering of human things, and that you should take him up again and again and get to know him and regulate your whole life according to him, we may love and honour those who say these things--they are excellent people, as far as their lights extend; and we are ready to acknowledge that homer is the greatest of poets and first of tragedy writers; but we must remain firm in our conviction that hymns to the gods and praises of famous men are the only poetry which ought to be admitted into our state. for if you go beyond this and allow the honeyed muse to enter, either in epic or lyric verse, not law and the reason of mankind, which by common consent have ever been deemed best, but pleasure and pain will be the rulers in our state. that is most true, he said. and now since we have reverted to the subject of poetry, let this our defence serve to show the reasonableness of our former judgment in sending away out of our state an art having the tendencies which we have described; for reason constrained us. but that she may not impute to us any harshness or want of politeness, let us tell her that there is an ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry; of which there are many proofs, such as the saying of 'the yelping hound howling at her lord,' or of one 'mighty in the vain talk of fools,' and 'the mob of sages circumventing zeus,' and the 'subtle thinkers who are beggars after all'; and there are innumerable other signs of ancient enmity between them. notwithstanding this, let us assure our sweet friend and the sister arts of imitation, that if she will only prove her title to exist in a well-ordered state we shall be delighted to receive her--we are very conscious of her charms; but we may not on that account betray the truth. i dare say, glaucon, that you are as much charmed by her as i am, especially when she appears in homer? yes, indeed, i am greatly charmed. shall i propose, then, that she be allowed to return from exile, but upon this condition only--that she make a defence of herself in lyrical or some other metre? certainly. and we may further grant to those of her defenders who are lovers of poetry and yet not poets the permission to speak in prose on her behalf: let them show not only that she is pleasant but also useful to states and to human life, and we will listen in a kindly spirit; for if this can be proved we shall surely be the gainers--i mean, if there is a use in poetry as well as a delight? certainly, he said, we shall be the gainers. if her defence fails, then, my dear friend, like other persons who are enamoured of something, but put a restraint upon themselves when they think their desires are opposed to their interests, so too must we after the manner of lovers give her up, though not without a struggle. we too are inspired by that love of poetry which the education of noble states has implanted in us, and therefore we would have her appear at her best and truest; but so long as she is unable to make good her defence, this argument of ours shall be a charm to us, which we will repeat to ourselves while we listen to her strains; that we may not fall away into the childish love of her which captivates the many. at all events we are well aware that poetry being such as we have described is not to be regarded seriously as attaining to the truth; and he who listens to her, fearing for the safety of the city which is within him, should be on his guard against her seductions and make our words his law. yes, he said, i quite agree with you. yes, i said, my dear glaucon, for great is the issue at stake, greater than appears, whether a man is to be good or bad. and what will any one be profited if under the influence of honour or money or power, aye, or under the excitement of poetry, he neglect justice and virtue? yes, he said; i have been convinced by the argument, as i believe that any one else would have been. and yet no mention has been made of the greatest prizes and rewards which await virtue. what, are there any greater still? if there are, they must be of an inconceivable greatness. why, i said, what was ever great in a short time? the whole period of three score years and ten is surely but a little thing in comparison with eternity? say rather 'nothing,' he replied. and should an immortal being seriously think of this little space rather than of the whole? of the whole, certainly. but why do you ask? are you not aware, i said, that the soul of man is immortal and imperishable? he looked at me in astonishment, and said: no, by heaven: and are you really prepared to maintain this? yes, i said, i ought to be, and you too--there is no difficulty in proving it. i see a great difficulty; but i should like to hear you state this argument of which you make so light. listen then. i am attending. there is a thing which you call good and another which you call evil? yes, he replied. would you agree with me in thinking that the corrupting and destroying element is the evil, and the saving and improving element the good? yes. and you admit that every thing has a good and also an evil; as ophthalmia is the evil of the eyes and disease of the whole body; as mildew is of corn, and rot of timber, or rust of copper and iron: in everything, or in almost everything, there is an inherent evil and disease? yes, he said. and anything which is infected by any of these evils is made evil, and at last wholly dissolves and dies? true. the vice and evil which is inherent in each is the destruction of each; and if this does not destroy them there is nothing else that will; for good certainly will not destroy them, nor again, that which is neither good nor evil. certainly not. if, then, we find any nature which having this inherent corruption cannot be dissolved or destroyed, we may be certain that of such a nature there is no destruction? that may be assumed. well, i said, and is there no evil which corrupts the soul? yes, he said, there are all the evils which we were just now passing in review: unrighteousness, intemperance, cowardice, ignorance. but does any of these dissolve or destroy her?--and here do not let us fall into the error of supposing that the unjust and foolish man, when he is detected, perishes through his own injustice, which is an evil of the soul. take the analogy of the body: the evil of the body is a disease which wastes and reduces and annihilates the body; and all the things of which we were just now speaking come to annihilation through their own corruption attaching to them and inhering in them and so destroying them. is not this true? yes. consider the soul in like manner. does the injustice or other evil which exists in the soul waste and consume her? do they by attaching to the soul and inhering in her at last bring her to death, and so separate her from the body? certainly not. and yet, i said, it is unreasonable to suppose that anything can perish from without through affection of external evil which could not be destroyed from within by a corruption of its own? it is, he replied. consider, i said, glaucon, that even the badness of food, whether staleness, decomposition, or any other bad quality, when confined to the actual food, is not supposed to destroy the body; although, if the badness of food communicates corruption to the body, then we should say that the body has been destroyed by a corruption of itself, which is disease, brought on by this; but that the body, being one thing, can be destroyed by the badness of food, which is another, and which does not engender any natural infection--this we shall absolutely deny? very true. and, on the same principle, unless some bodily evil can produce an evil of the soul, we must not suppose that the soul, which is one thing, can be dissolved by any merely external evil which belongs to another? yes, he said, there is reason in that. either, then, let us refute this conclusion, or, while it remains unrefuted, let us never say that fever, or any other disease, or the knife put to the throat, or even the cutting up of the whole body into the minutest pieces, can destroy the soul, until she herself is proved to become more unholy or unrighteous in consequence of these things being done to the body; but that the soul, or anything else if not destroyed by an internal evil, can be destroyed by an external one, is not to be affirmed by any man. and surely, he replied, no one will ever prove that the souls of men become more unjust in consequence of death. but if some one who would rather not admit the immortality of the soul boldly denies this, and says that the dying do really become more evil and unrighteous, then, if the speaker is right, i suppose that injustice, like disease, must be assumed to be fatal to the unjust, and that those who take this disorder die by the natural inherent power of destruction which evil has, and which kills them sooner or later, but in quite another way from that in which, at present, the wicked receive death at the hands of others as the penalty of their deeds? nay, he said, in that case injustice, if fatal to the unjust, will not be so very terrible to him, for he will be delivered from evil. but i rather suspect the opposite to be the truth, and that injustice which, if it have the power, will murder others, keeps the murderer alive--aye, and well awake too; so far removed is her dwelling-place from being a house of death. true, i said; if the inherent natural vice or evil of the soul is unable to kill or destroy her, hardly will that which is appointed to be the destruction of some other body, destroy a soul or anything else except that of which it was appointed to be the destruction. yes, that can hardly be. but the soul which cannot be destroyed by an evil, whether inherent or external, must exist for ever, and if existing for ever, must be immortal? certainly. that is the conclusion, i said; and, if a true conclusion, then the souls must always be the same, for if none be destroyed they will not diminish in number. neither will they increase, for the increase of the immortal natures must come from something mortal, and all things would thus end in immortality. very true. but this we cannot believe--reason will not allow us--any more than we can believe the soul, in her truest nature, to be full of variety and difference and dissimilarity. what do you mean? he said. the soul, i said, being, as is now proven, immortal, must be the fairest of compositions and cannot be compounded of many elements? certainly not. her immortality is demonstrated by the previous argument, and there are many other proofs; but to see her as she really is, not as we now behold her, marred by communion with the body and other miseries, you must contemplate her with the eye of reason, in her original purity; and then her beauty will be revealed, and justice and injustice and all the things which we have described will be manifested more clearly. thus far, we have spoken the truth concerning her as she appears at present, but we must remember also that we have seen her only in a condition which may be compared to that of the sea-god glaucus, whose original image can hardly be discerned because his natural members are broken off and crushed and damaged by the waves in all sorts of ways, and incrustations have grown over them of seaweed and shells and stones, so that he is more like some monster than he is to his own natural form. and the soul which we behold is in a similar condition, disfigured by ten thousand ills. but not there, glaucon, not there must we look. where then? at her love of wisdom. let us see whom she affects, and what society and converse she seeks in virtue of her near kindred with the immortal and eternal and divine; also how different she would become if wholly following this superior principle, and borne by a divine impulse out of the ocean in which she now is, and disengaged from the stones and shells and things of earth and rock which in wild variety spring up around her because she feeds upon earth, and is overgrown by the good things of this life as they are termed: then you would see her as she is, and know whether she have one shape only or many, or what her nature is. of her affections and of the forms which she takes in this present life i think that we have now said enough. true, he replied. and thus, i said, we have fulfilled the conditions of the argument; we have not introduced the rewards and glories of justice, which, as you were saying, are to be found in homer and hesiod; but justice in her own nature has been shown to be best for the soul in her own nature. let a man do what is just, whether he have the ring of gyges or not, and even if in addition to the ring of gyges he put on the helmet of hades. very true. and now, glaucon, there will be no harm in further enumerating how many and how great are the rewards which justice and the other virtues procure to the soul from gods and men, both in life and after death. certainly not, he said. will you repay me, then, what you borrowed in the argument? what did i borrow? the assumption that the just man should appear unjust and the unjust just: for you were of opinion that even if the true state of the case could not possibly escape the eyes of gods and men, still this admission ought to be made for the sake of the argument, in order that pure justice might be weighed against pure injustice. do you remember? i should be much to blame if i had forgotten. then, as the cause is decided, i demand on behalf of justice that the estimation in which she is held by gods and men and which we acknowledge to be her due should now be restored to her by us; since she has been shown to confer reality, and not to deceive those who truly possess her, let what has been taken from her be given back, that so she may win that palm of appearance which is hers also, and which she gives to her own. the demand, he said, is just. in the first place, i said--and this is the first thing which you will have to give back--the nature both of the just and unjust is truly known to the gods. granted. and if they are both known to them, one must be the friend and the other the enemy of the gods, as we admitted from the beginning? true. and the friend of the gods may be supposed to receive from them all things at their best, excepting only such evil as is the necessary consequence of former sins? certainly. then this must be our notion of the just man, that even when he is in poverty or sickness, or any other seeming misfortune, all things will in the end work together for good to him in life and death: for the gods have a care of any one whose desire is to become just and to be like god, as far as man can attain the divine likeness, by the pursuit of virtue? yes, he said; if he is like god he will surely not be neglected by him. and of the unjust may not the opposite be supposed? certainly. such, then, are the palms of victory which the gods give the just? that is my conviction. and what do they receive of men? look at things as they really are, and you will see that the clever unjust are in the case of runners, who run well from the starting-place to the goal but not back again from the goal: they go off at a great pace, but in the end only look foolish, slinking away with their ears draggling on their shoulders, and without a crown; but the true runner comes to the finish and receives the prize and is crowned. and this is the way with the just; he who endures to the end of every action and occasion of his entire life has a good report and carries off the prize which men have to bestow. true. and now you must allow me to repeat of the just the blessings which you were attributing to the fortunate unjust. i shall say of them, what you were saying of the others, that as they grow older, they become rulers in their own city if they care to be; they marry whom they like and give in marriage to whom they will; all that you said of the others i now say of these. and, on the other hand, of the unjust i say that the greater number, even though they escape in their youth, are found out at last and look foolish at the end of their course, and when they come to be old and miserable are flouted alike by stranger and citizen; they are beaten and then come those things unfit for ears polite, as you truly term them; they will be racked and have their eyes burned out, as you were saying. and you may suppose that i have repeated the remainder of your tale of horrors. but will you let me assume, without reciting them, that these things are true? certainly, he said, what you say is true. these, then, are the prizes and rewards and gifts which are bestowed upon the just by gods and men in this present life, in addition to the other good things which justice of herself provides. yes, he said; and they are fair and lasting. and yet, i said, all these are as nothing either in number or greatness in comparison with those other recompenses which await both just and unjust after death. and you ought to hear them, and then both just and unjust will have received from us a full payment of the debt which the argument owes to them. speak, he said; there are few things which i would more gladly hear. well, i said, i will tell you a tale; not one of the tales which odysseus tells to the hero alcinous, yet this too is a tale of a hero, er the son of armenius, a pamphylian by birth. he was slain in battle, and ten days afterwards, when the bodies of the dead were taken up already in a state of corruption, his body was found unaffected by decay, and carried away home to be buried. and on the twelfth day, as he was lying on the funeral pile, he returned to life and told them what he had seen in the other world. he said that when his soul left the body he went on a journey with a great company, and that they came to a mysterious place at which there were two openings in the earth; they were near together, and over against them were two other openings in the heaven above. in the intermediate space there were judges seated, who commanded the just, after they had given judgment on them and had bound their sentences in front of them, to ascend by the heavenly way on the right hand; and in like manner the unjust were bidden by them to descend by the lower way on the left hand; these also bore the symbols of their deeds, but fastened on their backs. he drew near, and they told him that he was to be the messenger who would carry the report of the other world to men, and they bade him hear and see all that was to be heard and seen in that place. then he beheld and saw on one side the souls departing at either opening of heaven and earth when sentence had been given on them; and at the two other openings other souls, some ascending out of the earth dusty and worn with travel, some descending out of heaven clean and bright. and arriving ever and anon they seemed to have come from a long journey, and they went forth with gladness into the meadow, where they encamped as at a festival; and those who knew one another embraced and conversed, the souls which came from earth curiously enquiring about the things above, and the souls which came from heaven about the things beneath. and they told one another of what had happened by the way, those from below weeping and sorrowing at the remembrance of the things which they had endured and seen in their journey beneath the earth (now the journey lasted a thousand years), while those from above were describing heavenly delights and visions of inconceivable beauty. the story, glaucon, would take too long to tell; but the sum was this:--he said that for every wrong which they had done to any one they suffered tenfold; or once in a hundred years--such being reckoned to be the length of man's life, and the penalty being thus paid ten times in a thousand years. if, for example, there were any who had been the cause of many deaths, or had betrayed or enslaved cities or armies, or been guilty of any other evil behaviour, for each and all of their offences they received punishment ten times over, and the rewards of beneficence and justice and holiness were in the same proportion. i need hardly repeat what he said concerning young children dying almost as soon as they were born. of piety and impiety to gods and parents, and of murderers, there were retributions other and greater far which he described. he mentioned that he was present when one of the spirits asked another, 'where is ardiaeus the great?' (now this ardiaeus lived a thousand years before the time of er: he had been the tyrant of some city of pamphylia, and had murdered his aged father and his elder brother, and was said to have committed many other abominable crimes.) the answer of the other spirit was: 'he comes not hither and will never come. and this,' said he, 'was one of the dreadful sights which we ourselves witnessed. we were at the mouth of the cavern, and, having completed all our experiences, were about to reascend, when of a sudden ardiaeus appeared and several others, most of whom were tyrants; and there were also besides the tyrants private individuals who had been great criminals: they were just, as they fancied, about to return into the upper world, but the mouth, instead of admitting them, gave a roar, whenever any of these incurable sinners or some one who had not been sufficiently punished tried to ascend; and then wild men of fiery aspect, who were standing by and heard the sound, seized and carried them off; and ardiaeus and others they bound head and foot and hand, and threw them down and flayed them with scourges, and dragged them along the road at the side, carding them on thorns like wool, and declaring to the passers-by what were their crimes, and that they were being taken away to be cast into hell.' and of all the many terrors which they had endured, he said that there was none like the terror which each of them felt at that moment, lest they should hear the voice; and when there was silence, one by one they ascended with exceeding joy. these, said er, were the penalties and retributions, and there were blessings as great. now when the spirits which were in the meadow had tarried seven days, on the eighth they were obliged to proceed on their journey, and, on the fourth day after, he said that they came to a place where they could see from above a line of light, straight as a column, extending right through the whole heaven and through the earth, in colour resembling the rainbow, only brighter and purer; another day's journey brought them to the place, and there, in the midst of the light, they saw the ends of the chains of heaven let down from above: for this light is the belt of heaven, and holds together the circle of the universe, like the under-girders of a trireme. from these ends is extended the spindle of necessity, on which all the revolutions turn. the shaft and hook of this spindle are made of steel, and the whorl is made partly of steel and also partly of other materials. now the whorl is in form like the whorl used on earth; and the description of it implied that there is one large hollow whorl which is quite scooped out, and into this is fitted another lesser one, and another, and another, and four others, making eight in all, like vessels which fit into one another; the whorls show their edges on the upper side, and on their lower side all together form one continuous whorl. this is pierced by the spindle, which is driven home through the centre of the eighth. the first and outermost whorl has the rim broadest, and the seven inner whorls are narrower, in the following proportions--the sixth is next to the first in size, the fourth next to the sixth; then comes the eighth; the seventh is fifth, the fifth is sixth, the third is seventh, last and eighth comes the second. the largest (or fixed stars) is spangled, and the seventh (or sun) is brightest; the eighth (or moon) coloured by the reflected light of the seventh; the second and fifth (saturn and mercury) are in colour like one another, and yellower than the preceding; the third (venus) has the whitest light; the fourth (mars) is reddish; the sixth (jupiter) is in whiteness second. now the whole spindle has the same motion; but, as the whole revolves in one direction, the seven inner circles move slowly in the other, and of these the swiftest is the eighth; next in swiftness are the seventh, sixth, and fifth, which move together; third in swiftness appeared to move according to the law of this reversed motion the fourth; the third appeared fourth and the second fifth. the spindle turns on the knees of necessity; and on the upper surface of each circle is a siren, who goes round with them, hymning a single tone or note. the eight together form one harmony; and round about, at equal intervals, there is another band, three in number, each sitting upon her throne: these are the fates, daughters of necessity, who are clothed in white robes and have chaplets upon their heads, lachesis and clotho and atropos, who accompany with their voices the harmony of the sirens--lachesis singing of the past, clotho of the present, atropos of the future; clotho from time to time assisting with a touch of her right hand the revolution of the outer circle of the whorl or spindle, and atropos with her left hand touching and guiding the inner ones, and lachesis laying hold of either in turn, first with one hand and then with the other. when er and the spirits arrived, their duty was to go at once to lachesis; but first of all there came a prophet who arranged them in order; then he took from the knees of lachesis lots and samples of lives, and having mounted a high pulpit, spoke as follows: 'hear the word of lachesis, the daughter of necessity. mortal souls, behold a new cycle of life and mortality. your genius will not be allotted to you, but you will choose your genius; and let him who draws the first lot have the first choice, and the life which he chooses shall be his destiny. virtue is free, and as a man honours or dishonours her he will have more or less of her; the responsibility is with the chooser--god is justified.' when the interpreter had thus spoken he scattered lots indifferently among them all, and each of them took up the lot which fell near him, all but er himself (he was not allowed), and each as he took his lot perceived the number which he had obtained. then the interpreter placed on the ground before them the samples of lives; and there were many more lives than the souls present, and they were of all sorts. there were lives of every animal and of man in every condition. and there were tyrannies among them, some lasting out the tyrant's life, others which broke off in the middle and came to an end in poverty and exile and beggary; and there were lives of famous men, some who were famous for their form and beauty as well as for their strength and success in games, or, again, for their birth and the qualities of their ancestors; and some who were the reverse of famous for the opposite qualities. and of women likewise; there was not, however, any definite character in them, because the soul, when choosing a new life, must of necessity become different. but there was every other quality, and the all mingled with one another, and also with elements of wealth and poverty, and disease and health; and there were mean states also. and here, my dear glaucon, is the supreme peril of our human state; and therefore the utmost care should be taken. let each one of us leave every other kind of knowledge and seek and follow one thing only, if peradventure he may be able to learn and may find some one who will make him able to learn and discern between good and evil, and so to choose always and everywhere the better life as he has opportunity. he should consider the bearing of all these things which have been mentioned severally and collectively upon virtue; he should know what the effect of beauty is when combined with poverty or wealth in a particular soul, and what are the good and evil consequences of noble and humble birth, of private and public station, of strength and weakness, of cleverness and dullness, and of all the natural and acquired gifts of the soul, and the operation of them when conjoined; he will then look at the nature of the soul, and from the consideration of all these qualities he will be able to determine which is the better and which is the worse; and so he will choose, giving the name of evil to the life which will make his soul more unjust, and good to the life which will make his soul more just; all else he will disregard. for we have seen and know that this is the best choice both in life and after death. a man must take with him into the world below an adamantine faith in truth and right, that there too he may be undazzled by the desire of wealth or the other allurements of evil, lest, coming upon tyrannies and similar villainies, he do irremediable wrongs to others and suffer yet worse himself; but let him know how to choose the mean and avoid the extremes on either side, as far as possible, not only in this life but in all that which is to come. for this is the way of happiness. and according to the report of the messenger from the other world this was what the prophet said at the time: 'even for the last comer, if he chooses wisely and will live diligently, there is appointed a happy and not undesirable existence. let not him who chooses first be careless, and let not the last despair.' and when he had spoken, he who had the first choice came forward and in a moment chose the greatest tyranny; his mind having been darkened by folly and sensuality, he had not thought out the whole matter before he chose, and did not at first sight perceive that he was fated, among other evils, to devour his own children. but when he had time to reflect, and saw what was in the lot, he began to beat his breast and lament over his choice, forgetting the proclamation of the prophet; for, instead of throwing the blame of his misfortune on himself, he accused chance and the gods, and everything rather than himself. now he was one of those who came from heaven, and in a former life had dwelt in a well-ordered state, but his virtue was a matter of habit only, and he had no philosophy. and it was true of others who were similarly overtaken, that the greater number of them came from heaven and therefore they had never been schooled by trial, whereas the pilgrims who came from earth having themselves suffered and seen others suffer, were not in a hurry to choose. and owing to this inexperience of theirs, and also because the lot was a chance, many of the souls exchanged a good destiny for an evil or an evil for a good. for if a man had always on his arrival in this world dedicated himself from the first to sound philosophy, and had been moderately fortunate in the number of the lot, he might, as the messenger reported, be happy here, and also his journey to another life and return to this, instead of being rough and underground, would be smooth and heavenly. most curious, he said, was the spectacle--sad and laughable and strange; for the choice of the souls was in most cases based on their experience of a previous life. there he saw the soul which had once been orpheus choosing the life of a swan out of enmity to the race of women, hating to be born of a woman because they had been his murderers; he beheld also the soul of thamyras choosing the life of a nightingale; birds, on the other hand, like the swan and other musicians, wanting to be men. the soul which obtained the twentieth lot chose the life of a lion, and this was the soul of ajax the son of telamon, who would not be a man, remembering the injustice which was done him in the judgment about the arms. the next was agamemnon, who took the life of an eagle, because, like ajax, he hated human nature by reason of his sufferings. about the middle came the lot of atalanta; she, seeing the great fame of an athlete, was unable to resist the temptation: and after her there followed the soul of epeus the son of panopeus passing into the nature of a woman cunning in the arts; and far away among the last who chose, the soul of the jester thersites was putting on the form of a monkey. there came also the soul of odysseus having yet to make a choice, and his lot happened to be the last of them all. now the recollection of former toils had disenchanted him of ambition, and he went about for a considerable time in search of the life of a private man who had no cares; he had some difficulty in finding this, which was lying about and had been neglected by everybody else; and when he saw it, he said that he would have done the same had his lot been first instead of last, and that he was delighted to have it. and not only did men pass into animals, but i must also mention that there were animals tame and wild who changed into one another and into corresponding human natures--the good into the gentle and the evil into the savage, in all sorts of combinations. all the souls had now chosen their lives, and they went in the order of their choice to lachesis, who sent with them the genius whom they had severally chosen, to be the guardian of their lives and the fulfiller of the choice: this genius led the souls first to clotho, and drew them within the revolution of the spindle impelled by her hand, thus ratifying the destiny of each; and then, when they were fastened to this, carried them to atropos, who spun the threads and made them irreversible, whence without turning round they passed beneath the throne of necessity; and when they had all passed, they marched on in a scorching heat to the plain of forgetfulness, which was a barren waste destitute of trees and verdure; and then towards evening they encamped by the river of unmindfulness, whose water no vessel can hold; of this they were all obliged to drink a certain quantity, and those who were not saved by wisdom drank more than was necessary; and each one as he drank forgot all things. now after they had gone to rest, about the middle of the night there was a thunderstorm and earthquake, and then in an instant they were driven upwards in all manner of ways to their birth, like stars shooting. he himself was hindered from drinking the water. but in what manner or by what means he returned to the body he could not say; only, in the morning, awaking suddenly, he found himself lying on the pyre. and thus, glaucon, the tale has been saved and has not perished, and will save us if we are obedient to the word spoken; and we shall pass safely over the river of forgetfulness and our soul will not be defiled. wherefore my counsel is, that we hold fast ever to the heavenly way and follow after justice and virtue always, considering that the soul is immortal and able to endure every sort of good and every sort of evil. thus shall we live dear to one another and to the gods, both while remaining here and when, like conquerors in the games who go round to gather gifts, we receive our reward. and it shall be well with us both in this life and in the pilgrimage of a thousand years which we have been describing. a treatise on government by aristotle translated from the greek of aristotle by william ellis, a.m. london & toronto published by j m dent & sons ltd. & in new york by e. p. dutton &. co first issue of this edition reprinted , , introduction the politics of aristotle is the second part of a treatise of which the ethics is the first part. it looks back to the ethics as the ethics looks forward to the politics. for aristotle did not separate, as we are inclined to do, the spheres of the statesman and the moralist. in the ethics he has described the character necessary for the good life, but that life is for him essentially to be lived in society, and when in the last chapters of the ethics he comes to the practical application of his inquiries, that finds expression not in moral exhortations addressed to the individual but in a description of the legislative opportunities of the statesman. it is the legislator's task to frame a society which shall make the good life possible. politics for aristotle is not a struggle between individuals or classes for power, nor a device for getting done such elementary tasks as the maintenance of order and security without too great encroachments on individual liberty. the state is "a community of well-being in families and aggregations of families for the sake of a perfect and self-sufficing life." the legislator is a craftsman whose material is society and whose aim is the good life. in an early dialogue of plato's, the protagoras, socrates asks protagoras why it is not as easy to find teachers of virtue as it is to find teachers of swordsmanship, riding, or any other art. protagoras' answer is that there are no special teachers of virtue, because virtue is taught by the whole community. plato and aristotle both accept the view of moral education implied in this answer. in a passage of the republic ( b) plato repudiates the notion that the sophists have a corrupting moral influence upon young men. the public themselves, he says, are the real sophists and the most complete and thorough educators. no private education can hold out against the irresistible force of public opinion and the ordinary moral standards of society. but that makes it all the more essential that public opinion and social environment should not be left to grow up at haphazard as they ordinarily do, but should be made by the wise legislator the expression of the good and be informed in all their details by his knowledge. the legislator is the only possible teacher of virtue. such a programme for a treatise on government might lead us to expect in the politics mainly a description of a utopia or ideal state which might inspire poets or philosophers but have little direct effect upon political institutions. plato's republic is obviously impracticable, for its author had turned away in despair from existing politics. he has no proposals, in that dialogue at least, for making the best of things as they are. the first lesson his philosopher has to learn is to turn away from this world of becoming and decay, and to look upon the unchanging eternal world of ideas. thus his ideal city is, as he says, a pattern laid up in heaven by which the just man may rule his life, a pattern therefore in the meantime for the individual and not for the statesman. it is a city, he admits in the laws, for gods or the children of gods, not for men as they are. aristotle has none of the high enthusiasm or poetic imagination of plato. he is even unduly impatient of plato's idealism, as is shown by the criticisms in the second book. but he has a power to see the possibilities of good in things that are imperfect, and the patience of the true politician who has learned that if he would make men what they ought to be, he must take them as he finds them. his ideal is constructed not of pure reason or poetry, but from careful and sympathetic study of a wide range of facts. his criticism of plato in the light of history, in book ii. chap, v., though as a criticism it is curiously inept, reveals his own attitude admirably: "let us remember that we should not disregard the experience of ages; in the multitude of years, these things, if they were good, would certainly not have been unknown; for almost everything has been found out, although sometimes they are not put together; in other cases men do not use the knowledge which they have." aristotle in his constitutions had made a study of one hundred and fifty-eight constitutions of the states of his day, and the fruits of that study are seen in the continual reference to concrete political experience, which makes the politics in some respects a critical history of the workings of the institutions of the greek city state. in books iv., v., and vi. the ideal state seems far away, and we find a dispassionate survey of imperfect states, the best ways of preserving them, and an analysis of the causes of their instability. it is as though aristotle were saying: "i have shown you the proper and normal type of constitution, but if you will not have it and insist on living under a perverted form, you may as well know how to make the best of it." in this way the politics, though it defines the state in the light of its ideal, discusses states and institutions as they are. ostensibly it is merely a continuation of the ethics, but it comes to treat political questions from a purely political standpoint. this combination of idealism and respect for the teachings of experience constitutes in some ways the strength and value of the politics, but it also makes it harder to follow. the large nation states to which we are accustomed make it difficult for us to think that the state could be constructed and modelled to express the good life. we can appreciate aristotle's critical analysis of constitutions, but find it hard to take seriously his advice to the legislator. moreover, the idealism and the empiricism of the politics are never really reconciled by aristotle himself. it may help to an understanding of the politics if something is said on those two points. we are accustomed since the growth of the historical method to the belief that states are "not made but grow," and are apt to be impatient with the belief which aristotle and plato show in the powers of the lawgiver. but however true the maxim may be of the modern nation state, it was not true of the much smaller and more self-conscious greek city. when aristotle talks of the legislator, he is not talking in the air. students of the academy had been actually called on to give new constitutions to greek states. for the greeks the constitution was not merely as it is so often with us, a matter of political machinery. it was regarded as a way of life. further, the constitution within the framework of which the ordinary process of administration and passing of decrees went on, was always regarded as the work of a special man or body of men, the lawgivers. if we study greek history, we find that the position of the legislator corresponds to that assigned to him by plato and aristotle. all greek states, except those perversions which aristotle criticises as being "above law," worked under rigid constitutions, and the constitution was only changed when the whole people gave a commission to a lawgiver to draw up a new one. such was the position of the aesumnetes, whom aristotle describes in book iii. chap, xiv., in earlier times, and of the pupils of the academy in the fourth century. the lawgiver was not an ordinary politician. he was a state doctor, called in to prescribe for an ailing constitution. so herodotus recounts that when the people of cyrene asked the oracle of delphi to help them in their dissensions, the oracle told them to go to mantinea, and the mantineans lent them demonax, who acted as a "setter straight" and drew up a new constitution for cyrene. so again the milesians, herodotus tells us, were long troubled by civil discord, till they asked help from paros, and the parians sent ten commissioners who gave miletus a new constitution. so the athenians, when they were founding their model new colony at thurii, employed hippodamus of miletus, whom aristotle mentions in book ii, as the best expert in town-planning, to plan the streets of the city, and protagoras as the best expert in law-making, to give the city its laws. in the laws plato represents one of the persons of the dialogue as having been asked by the people of gortyna to draw up laws for a colony which they were founding. the situation described must have occurred frequently in actual life. the greeks thought administration should be democratic and law-making the work of experts. we think more naturally of law-making as the special right of the people and administration as necessarily confined to experts. aristotle's politics, then, is a handbook for the legislator, the expert who is to be called in when a state wants help. we have called him a state doctor. it is one of the most marked characteristics of greek political theory that plato and aristotle think of the statesman as one who has knowledge of what ought to be done, and can help those who call him in to prescribe for them, rather than one who has power to control the forces of society. the desire of society for the statesman's advice is taken for granted, plato in the republic says that a good constitution is only possible when the ruler does not want to rule; where men contend for power, where they have not learnt to distinguish between the art of getting hold of the helm of state and the art of steering, which alone is statesmanship, true politics is impossible. with this position much that aristotle has to say about government is in agreement. he assumes the characteristic platonic view that all men seek the good, and go wrong through ignorance, not through evil will, and so he naturally regards the state as a community which exists for the sake of the good life. it is in the state that that common seeking after the good which is the profoundest truth about men and nature becomes explicit and knows itself. the state is for aristotle prior to the family and the village, although it succeeds them in time, for only when the state with its conscious organisation is reached can man understand the secret of his past struggles after something he knew not what. if primitive society is understood in the light of the state, the state is understood in the light of its most perfect form, when the good after which all societies are seeking is realised in its perfection. hence for aristotle as for plato, the natural state or the state as such is the ideal state, and the ideal state is the starting-point of political inquiry. in accordance with the same line of thought, imperfect states, although called perversions, are regarded by aristotle as the result rather of misconception and ignorance than of perverse will. they all represent, he says, some kind of justice. oligarchs and democrats go wrong in their conception of the good. they have come short of the perfect state through misunderstanding of the end or through ignorance of the proper means to the end. but if they are states at all, they embody some common conception of the good, some common aspirations of all their members. the greek doctrine that the essence of the state consists in community of purpose is the counterpart of the notion often held in modern times that the essence of the state is force. the existence of force is for plato and aristotle a sign not of the state but of the state's failure. it comes from the struggle between conflicting misconceptions of the good. in so far as men conceive the good rightly they are united. the state represents their common agreement, force their failure to make that agreement complete. the cure, therefore, of political ills is knowledge of the good life, and the statesman is he who has such knowledge, for that alone can give men what they are always seeking. if the state is the organisation of men seeking a common good, power and political position must be given to those who can forward this end. this is the principle expressed in aristotle's account of political justice, the principle of "tools to those who can use them." as the aim of the state is differently conceived, the qualifications for government will vary. in the ideal state power will be given to the man with most knowledge of the good; in other states to the men who are most truly capable of achieving that end which the citizens have set themselves to pursue. the justest distribution of political power is that in which there is least waste of political ability. further, the belief that the constitution of a state is only the outward expression of the common aspirations and beliefs of its members, explains the paramount political importance which aristotle assigns to education. it is the great instrument by which the legislator can ensure that the future citizens of his state will share those common beliefs which make the state possible. the greeks with their small states had a far clearer apprehension than we can have of the dependence of a constitution upon the people who have to work it. such is in brief the attitude in which aristotle approaches political problems, but in working out its application to men and institutions as they are, aristotle admits certain compromises which are not really consistent with it. . aristotle thinks of membership of a state as community in pursuit of the good. he wishes to confine membership in it to those who are capable of that pursuit in the highest and most explicit manner. his citizens, therefore, must be men of leisure, capable of rational thought upon the end of life. he does not recognise the significance of that less conscious but deep-seated membership of the state which finds its expression in loyalty and patriotism. his definition of citizen includes only a small part of the population of any greek city. he is forced to admit that the state is not possible without the co-operation of men whom he will not admit to membership in it, either because they are not capable of sufficient rational appreciation of political ends, like the barbarians whom he thought were natural slaves, or because the leisure necessary for citizenship can only be gained by the work of the artisans who by that very work make themselves incapable of the life which they make possible for others. "the artisan only attains excellence in proportion as he becomes a slave," and the slave is only a living instrument of the good life. he exists for the state, but the state does not exist for him. . aristotle in his account of the ideal state seems to waver between two ideals. there is the ideal of an aristocracy and the ideal of what he calls constitutional government, a mixed constitution. the principle of "tools to those who can use them" ought to lead him, as it does plato, to an aristocracy. those who have complete knowledge of the good must be few, and therefore plato gave entire power in his state into the hands of the small minority of philosopher guardians. it is in accordance with this principle that aristotle holds that kingship is the proper form of government when there is in the state one man of transcendent virtue. at the same time, aristotle always holds that absolute government is not properly political, that government is not like the rule of a shepherd over his sheep, but the rule of equals over equals. he admits that the democrats are right in insisting that equality is a necessary element in the state, though he thinks they do not admit the importance of other equally necessary elements. hence he comes to say that ruling and being ruled over by turns is an essential feature of constitutional government, which he admits as an alternative to aristocracy. the end of the state, which is to be the standard of the distribution of political power, is conceived sometimes as a good for the apprehension and attainment of which "virtue" is necessary and sufficient (this is the principle of aristocracy), and sometimes as a more complex good, which needs for its attainment not only "virtue" but wealth and equality. this latter conception is the principle on which the mixed constitution is based. this in its distribution of political power gives some weight to "virtue," some to wealth, and some to mere number. but the principle of "ruling and being ruled by turns" is not really compatible with an unmodified principle of "tools to those who can use them." aristotle is right in seeing that political government demands equality, not in the sense that all members of the state should be equal in ability or should have equal power, but in the sense that none of them can properly be regarded simply as tools with which the legislator works, that each has a right to say what will be made of his own life. the analogy between the legislator and the craftsman on which plato insists, breaks down because the legislator is dealing with men like himself, men who can to some extent conceive their own end in life and cannot be treated merely as means to the end of the legislator. the sense of the value of "ruling and being ruled in turn" is derived from the experience that the ruler may use his power to subordinate the lives of the citizens of the state not to the common good but to his own private purposes. in modern terms, it is a simple, rough-and-ready attempt to solve that constant problem of politics, how efficient government is to be combined with popular control. this problem arises from the imperfection of human nature, apparent in rulers as well as in ruled, and if the principle which attempts to solve it be admitted as a principle of importance in the formation of the best constitution, then the starting-point of politics will be man's actual imperfection, not his ideal nature. instead, then, of beginning with a state which would express man's ideal nature, and adapting it as well as may be to man's actual shortcomings from that ideal, we must recognise that the state and all political machinery are as much the expression of man's weakness as of his ideal possibilities. the state is possible only because men have common aspirations, but government, and political power, the existence of officials who are given authority to act in the name of the whole state, are necessary because men's community is imperfect, because man's social nature expresses itself in conflicting ways, in the clash of interests, the rivalry of parties, and the struggle of classes, instead of in the united seeking after a common good. plato and aristotle were familiar with the legislator who was called in by the whole people, and they tended therefore to take the general will or common consent of the people for granted. most political questions are concerned with the construction and expression of the general will, and with attempts to ensure that the political machinery made to express the general will shall not be exploited for private or sectional ends. aristotle's mixed constitution springs from a recognition of sectional interests in the state. for the proper relation between the claims of "virtue," wealth, and numbers is to be based not upon their relative importance in the good life, but upon the strength of the parties which they represent. the mixed constitution is practicable in a state where the middle class is strong, as only the middle class can mediate between the rich and the poor. the mixed constitution will be stable if it represents the actual balance of power between different classes in the state. when we come to aristotle's analysis of existing constitutions, we find that while he regards them as imperfect approximations to the ideal, he also thinks of them as the result of the struggle between classes. democracy, he explains, is the government not of the many but of the poor; oligarchy a government not of the few but of the rich. and each class is thought of, not as trying to express an ideal, but as struggling to acquire power or maintain its position. if ever the class existed in unredeemed nakedness, it was in the greek cities of the fourth century, and its existence is abundantly recognised by aristotle. his account of the causes of revolutions in book v. shows how far were the existing states of greece from the ideal with which he starts. his analysis of the facts forces him to look upon them as the scene of struggling factions. the causes of revolutions are not described as primarily changes in the conception of the common good, but changes in the military or economic power of the several classes in the state. the aim which he sets before oligarchs or democracies is not the good life, but simple stability or permanence of the existing constitution. with this spirit of realism which pervades books iv., v., and vi. the idealism of books i., ii., vii., and viii. is never reconciled. aristotle is content to call existing constitutions perversions of the true form. but we cannot read the politics without recognising and profiting from the insight into the nature of the state which is revealed throughout. aristotle's failure does not lie in this, that he is both idealist and realist, but that he keeps these two tendencies too far apart. he thinks too much of his ideal state, as something to be reached once for all by knowledge, as a fixed type to which actual states approximate or from which they are perversions. but if we are to think of actual politics as intelligible in the light of the ideal, we must think of that ideal as progressively revealed in history, not as something to be discovered by turning our back on experience and having recourse to abstract reasoning. if we stretch forward from what exists to an ideal, it is to a better which may be in its turn transcended, not to a single immutable best. aristotle found in the society of his time men who were not capable of political reflection, and who, as he thought, did their best work under superintendence. he therefore called them natural slaves. for, according to aristotle, that is a man's natural condition in which he does his best work. but aristotle also thinks of nature as something fixed and immutable; and therefore sanctions the institution of slavery, which assumes that what men are that they will always be, and sets up an artificial barrier to their ever becoming anything else. we see in aristotle's defence of slavery how the conception of nature as the ideal can have a debasing influence upon views of practical politics. his high ideal of citizenship offers to those who can satisfy its claims the prospect of a fair life; those who fall short are deemed to be different in nature and shut out entirely from approach to the ideal. a. d. lindsay. bibliography first edition of works (with omission of rhetorica, poetica, and second book of oeconomica), vols. by aldus manutius, venice, - ; re-impression supervised by erasmus and with certain corrections by grynaeus (including rhetorica and poetica), , , revised ; later editions were followed by that of immanuel bekker and brandis (greek and latin), vols. the th vol. contains the index by bonitz, - ; didot edition (greek and latin), vols. - . english translations: edited by t. taylor, with porphyry's introduction, vols., ; under editorship of j. a. smith and w. d. ross, . later editions of separate 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physiognomy, by t. taylor, . metaphysica, by t. taylor, ; by j. h. m'mahon (bohn's classical library), . organon, with porphyry's introduction, by o. f. owen (bohn's classical library), . posterior analytics, e. poste, ; e. s. bourchier, ; on fallacies, e. poste, . parva naturalia (greek and english), by g. r. t. ross, ; with de anima, by w. a. hammond, . youth and old age, life and death and respiration, w. ogle, . poetica, with notes from the french of d'acier, ; by h. j. pye, , ; t. twining, , , with preface and notes by h. hamilton, ; treatise on rhetorica and poetica, by t. hobbes (bohn's classical library), ; by wharton, (see greek version), s. h. butcher, , , rd edition, ; e. s. bourchier, ; by ingram bywater, . de partibus animalium, w. ogle, . de republica athenientium, by e. poste, ; f. g. kenyon, ; t. j. dymes, . de virtutibus et vitiis, by w. bridgman, . politica, from the french of regius, ; by w. ellis, , , (morley's universal library), (lubbock's hundred books); by e. walford (with aeconomics, and life by dr. gillies) (bohn's classical library), ; j. e. c. welldon, ; b. jowett, ; with introduction and index by h. w. c. davis, ; books i. iii. iv. (vii.) from bekker's text by w. e. bolland, with introduction by a. lang, . problemata (with writings of other philosophers), , , , , etc. rhetorica: a summary by t. hobbes, (?), new edition, ; by the translators of the art of thinking, , ; by d. m. crimmin, ; j. gillies, ; anon. ; j. e. c. welldon, ; r. c. jebb, with introduction and supplementary notes by j. e. sandys, (see under poetica and ethica). secreta secretorum (supposititious work), anon. ; from the hebrew version by m. gaster, , . version by lydgate and burgh, edited by r. steele (e.e.t.s.), , . life, etc.: j. w. blakesley, ; a crichton (jardine's naturalist's library), ; j. s. blackie, four phases of morals, socrates, aristotle, etc., ; g. grote, aristotle, edited by a. bain and g. c. robertson, , ; e. wallace, outlines of the philosophy of aristotle, , ; a. grant (ancient classics for english readers), ; t. davidson, aristotle and ancient educational ideals (great educators), . a treatise on government book i chapter i as we see that every city is a society, and every society ed. is established for some good purpose; for an apparent [bekker a] good is the spring of all human actions; it is evident that this is the principle upon which they are every one founded, and this is more especially true of that which has for its object the best possible, and is itself the most excellent, and comprehends all the rest. now this is called a city, and the society thereof a political society; for those who think that the principles of a political, a regal, a family, and a herile government are the same are mistaken, while they suppose that each of these differ in the numbers to whom their power extends, but not in their constitution: so that with them a herile government is one composed of a very few, a domestic of more, a civil and a regal of still more, as if there was no difference between a large family and a small city, or that a regal government and a political one are the same, only that in the one a single person is continually at the head of public affairs; in the other, that each member of the state has in his turn a share in the government, and is at one time a magistrate, at another a private person, according to the rules of political science. but now this is not true, as will be evident to any one who will consider this question in the most approved method. as, in an inquiry into every other subject, it is necessary to separate the different parts of which it is compounded, till we arrive at their first elements, which are the most minute parts thereof; so by the same proceeding we shall acquire a knowledge of the primary parts of a city and see wherein they differ from each other, and whether the rules of art will give us any assistance in examining into each of these things which are mentioned. chapter ii now if in this particular science any one would attend to its original seeds, and their first shoot, he would then as in others have the subject perfectly before him; and perceive, in the first place, that it is requisite that those should be joined together whose species cannot exist without each other, as the male and the female, for the business of propagation; and this not through choice, but by that natural impulse which acts both upon plants and animals also, for the purpose of their leaving behind them others like themselves. it is also from natural causes that some beings command and others obey, that each may obtain their mutual safety; for a being who is endowed with a mind capable of reflection and forethought is by nature the superior and governor, whereas he whose excellence is merely corporeal is formect to be a slave; whence it follows that the different state of master [ b] and slave is equally advantageous to both. but there is a natural difference between a female and a slave: for nature is not like the artists who make the delphic swords for the use of the poor, but for every particular purpose she has her separate instruments, and thus her ends are most complete, for whatsoever is employed on one subject only, brings that one to much greater perfection than when employed on many; and yet among the barbarians, a female and a slave are upon a level in the community, the reason for which is, that amongst them there are none qualified by nature to govern, therefore their society can be nothing but between slaves of different sexes. for which reason the poets say, it is proper for the greeks to govern the barbarians, as if a barbarian and a slave were by nature one. now of these two societies the domestic is the first, and hesiod is right when he says, "first a house, then a wife, then an ox for the plough," for the poor man has always an ox before a household slave. that society then which nature has established for daily support is the domestic, and those who compose it are called by charondas _homosipuoi_, and by epimenides the cretan _homokapnoi_; but the society of many families, which was first instituted for their lasting, mutual advantage, is called a village, and a village is most naturally composed of the descendants of one family, whom some persons call homogalaktes, the children and the children's children thereof: for which reason cities were originally governed by kings, as the barbarian states now are, which are composed of those who had before submitted to kingly government; for every family is governed by the elder, as are the branches thereof, on account of their relationship thereunto, which is what homer says, "each one ruled his wife and child;" and in this scattered manner they formerly lived. and the opinion which universally prevails, that the gods themselves are subject to kingly government, arises from hence, that all men formerly were, and many are so now; and as they imagined themselves to be made in the likeness of the gods, so they supposed their manner of life must needs be the same. and when many villages so entirely join themselves together as in every respect to form but one society, that society is a city, and contains in itself, if i may so speak, the end and perfection of government: first founded that we might live, but continued that we may live happily. for which reason every city must be allowed to be the work of nature, if we admit that the original society between male and female is; for to this as their end all subordinate societies tend, and the end of everything is the nature of it. for what every being is in its most perfect state, that certainly is the nature of that being, whether it be a man, a horse, or a house: besides, whatsoever produces the final cause and the end which we [ a] desire, must be best; but a government complete in itself is that final cause and what is best. hence it is evident that a city is a natural production, and that man is naturally a political animal, and that whosoever is naturally and not accidentally unfit for society, must be either inferior or superior to man: thus the man in homer, who is reviled for being "without society, without law, without family." such a one must naturally be of a quarrelsome disposition, and as solitary as the birds. the gift of speech also evidently proves that man is a more social animal than the bees, or any of the herding cattle: for nature, as we say, does nothing in vain, and man is the only animal who enjoys it. voice indeed, as being the token of pleasure and pain, is imparted to others also, and thus much their nature is capable of, to perceive pleasure and pain, and to impart these sensations to others; but it is by speech that we are enabled to express what is useful for us, and what is hurtful, and of course what is just and what is unjust: for in this particular man differs from other animals, that he alone has a perception of good and evil, of just and unjust, and it is a participation of these common sentiments which forms a family and a city. besides, the notion of a city naturally precedes that of a family or an individual, for the whole must necessarily be prior to the parts, for if you take away the whole man, you cannot say a foot or a hand remains, unless by equivocation, as supposing a hand of stone to be made, but that would only be a dead one; but everything is understood to be this or that by its energic qualities and powers, so that when these no longer remain, neither can that be said to be the same, but something of the same name. that a city then precedes an individual is plain, for if an individual is not in himself sufficient to compose a perfect government, he is to a city as other parts are to a whole; but he that is incapable of society, or so complete in himself as not to want it, makes no part of a city, as a beast or a god. there is then in all persons a natural impetus to associate with each other in this manner, and he who first founded civil society was the cause of the greatest good; for as by the completion of it man is the most excellent of all living beings, so without law and justice he would be the worst of all, for nothing is so difficult to subdue as injustice in arms: but these arms man is born with, namely, prudence and valour, which he may apply to the most opposite purposes, for he who abuses them will be the most wicked, the most cruel, the most lustful, and most gluttonous being imaginable; for justice is a political virtue, by the rules of it the state is regulated, and these rules are the criterion of what is right. chapter iii since it is now evident of what parts a city is composed, it will be necessary to treat first of family government, for every city is made up of families, and every family [ b] has again its separate parts of which it is composed. when a family is complete, it consists of freemen and slaves; but as in every subject we should begin with examining into the smallest parts of which it consists, and as the first and smallest parts of a family are the master and slave, the husband and wife, the father and child, let us first inquire into these three, what each of them may be, and what they ought to be; that is to say, the herile, the nuptial, and the paternal. let these then be considered as the three distinct parts of a family: some think that the providing what is necessary for the family is something different from the government of it, others that this is the greatest part of it; it shall be considered separately; but we will first speak of a master and a slave, that we may both understand the nature of those things which are absolutely necessary, and also try if we can learn anything better on this subject than what is already known. some persons have thought that the power of the master over his slave originates from his superior knowledge, and that this knowledge is the same in the master, the magistrate, and the king, as we have already said; but others think that herile government is contrary to nature, and that it is the law which makes one man a slave and another free, but that in nature there is no difference; for which reason that power cannot be founded in justice, but in force. chapter iv since then a subsistence is necessary in every family, the means of procuring it certainly makes up part of the management of a family, for without necessaries it is impossible to live, and to live well. as in all arts which are brought to perfection it is necessary that they should have their proper instruments if they would complete their works, so is it in the art of managing a family: now of instruments some of them are alive, others inanimate; thus with respect to the pilot of the ship, the tiller is without life, the sailor is alive; for a servant is as an instrument in many arts. thus property is as an instrument to living; an estate is a multitude of instruments; so a slave is an animated instrument, but every one that can minister of himself is more valuable than any other instrument; for if every instrument, at command, or from a preconception of its master's will, could accomplish its work (as the story goes of the statues of daedalus; or what the poet tells us of the tripods of vulcan, "that they moved of their own accord into the assembly of the gods "), the shuttle would then weave, and the lyre play of itself; nor would the architect want servants, or the [ a] master slaves. now what are generally called instruments are the efficients of something else, but possessions are what we simply use: thus with a shuttle we make something else for our use; but we only use a coat, or a bed: since then making and using differ from each other in species, and they both require their instruments, it is necessary that these should be different from each other. now life is itself what we use, and not what we employ as the efficient of something else; for which reason the services of a slave are for use. a possession may be considered in the same nature as a part of anything; now a part is not only a part of something, but also is nothing else; so is a possession; therefore a master is only the master of the slave, but no part of him; but the slave is not only the slave of the master, but nothing else but that. this fully explains what is the nature of a slave, and what are his capacities; for that being who by nature is nothing of himself, but totally another's, and is a man, is a slave by nature; and that man who is the property of another, is his mere chattel, though he continues a man; but a chattel is an instrument for use, separate from the body. chapter v but whether any person is such by nature, and whether it is advantageous and just for any one to be a slave or no, or whether all slavery is contrary to nature, shall be considered hereafter; not that it is difficult to determine it upon general principles, or to understand it from matters of fact; for that some should govern, and others be governed, is not only necessary but useful, and from the hour of their birth some are marked out for those purposes, and others for the other, and there are many species of both sorts. and the better those are who are governed the better also is the government, as for instance of man, rather than the brute creation: for the more excellent the materials are with which the work is finished, the more excellent certainly is the work; and wherever there is a governor and a governed, there certainly is some work produced; for whatsoever is composed of many parts, which jointly become one, whether conjunct or separate, evidently show the marks of governing and governed; and this is true of every living thing in all nature; nay, even in some things which partake not of life, as in music; but this probably would be a disquisition too foreign to our present purpose. every living thing in the first place is composed of soul and body, of these the one is by nature the governor, the other the governed; now if we would know what is natural, we ought to search for it in those subjects in which nature appears most perfect, and not in those which are corrupted; we should therefore examine into a man who is most perfectly formed both in soul and body, in whom this is evident, for in the depraved and vicious the body seems [ b] to rule rather than the soul, on account of their being corrupt and contrary to nature. we may then, as we affirm, perceive in an animal the first principles of herile and political government; for the soul governs the body as the master governs his slave; the mind governs the appetite with a political or a kingly power, which shows that it is both natural and advantageous that the body should be governed by the soul, and the pathetic part by the mind, and that part which is possessed of reason; but to have no ruling power, or an improper one, is hurtful to all; and this holds true not only of man, but of other animals also, for tame animals are naturally better than wild ones, and it is advantageous that both should be under subjection to man; for this is productive of their common safety: so is it naturally with the male and the female; the one is superior, the other inferior; the one governs, the other is governed; and the same rule must necessarily hold good with respect to all mankind. those men therefore who are as much inferior to others as the body is to the soul, are to be thus disposed of, as the proper use of them is their bodies, in which their excellence consists; and if what i have said be true, they are slaves by nature, and it is advantageous to them to be always under government. he then is by nature formed a slave who is qualified to become the chattel of another person, and on that account is so, and who has just reason enough to know that there is such a faculty, without being indued with the use of it; for other animals have no perception of reason, but are entirely guided by appetite, and indeed they vary very little in their use from each other; for the advantage which we receive, both from slaves and tame animals, arises from their bodily strength administering to our necessities; for it is the intention of nature to make the bodies of slaves and freemen different from each other, that the one should be robust for their necessary purposes, the others erect, useless indeed for what slaves are employed in, but fit for civil life, which is divided into the duties of war and peace; though these rules do not always take place, for slaves have sometimes the bodies of freemen, sometimes the souls; if then it is evident that if some bodies are as much more excellent than others as the statues of the gods excel the human form, every one will allow that the inferior ought to be slaves to the superior; and if this is true with respect to the body, it is still juster to determine in the same manner, when we consider the soul; though it is not so easy to perceive the beauty of [ a] the soul as it is of the body. since then some men are slaves by nature, and others are freemen, it is clear that where slavery is advantageous to any one, then it is just to make him a slave. chapter vi but it is not difficult to perceive that those who maintain the contrary opinion have some reason on their side; for a man may become a slave two different ways; for he may be so by law also, and this law is a certain compact, by which whatsoever is taken in battle is adjudged to be the property of the conquerors: but many persons who are conversant in law call in question this pretended right, and say that it would be hard that a man should be compelled by violence to be the slave and subject of another who had the power to compel him, and was his superior in strength; and upon this subject, even of those who are wise, some think one way and some another; but the cause of this doubt and variety of opinions arises from hence, that great abilities, when accompanied with proper means, are generally able to succeed by force: for victory is always owing to a superiority in some advantageous circumstances; so that it seems that force never prevails but in consequence of great abilities. but still the dispute concerning the justice of it remains; for some persons think, that justice consists in benevolence, others think it just that the powerful should govern: in the midst of these contrary opinions, there are no reasons sufficient to convince us, that the right of being master and governor ought not to be placed with those who have the greatest abilities. some persons, entirely resting upon the right which the law gives (for that which is legal is in some respects just), insist upon it that slavery occasioned by war is just, not that they say it is wholly so, for it may happen that the principle upon which the wars were commenced is unjust; moreover no one will say that a man who is unworthily in slavery is therefore a slave; for if so, men of the noblest families might happen to be slaves, and the descendants of slaves, if they should chance to be taken prisoners in war and sold: to avoid this difficulty they say that such persons should not be called slaves, but barbarians only should; but when they say this, they do nothing more than inquire who is a slave by nature, which was what we at first said; for we must acknowledge that there are some persons who, wherever they are, must necessarily be slaves, but others in no situation; thus also it is with those of noble descent: it is not only in their own country that they are esteemed as such, but everywhere, but the barbarians are respected on this account at home only; as if nobility and freedom were of two sorts, the one universal, the other not so. thus says the helen of theodectes: "who dares reproach me with the name of slave? when from the immortal gods, on either side, i draw my lineage." those who express sentiments like these, shew only that they distinguish the slave and the freeman, the noble and the ignoble from each other by their virtues and their [ b] vices; for they think it reasonable, that as a man begets a man, and a beast a beast, so from a good man, a good man should be descended; and this is what nature desires to do, but frequently cannot accomplish it. it is evident then that this doubt has some reason in it, and that these persons are not slaves, and those freemen, by the appointment of nature; and also that in some instances it is sufficiently clear, that it is advantageous to both parties for this man to be a slave, and that to be a master, and that it is right and just, that some should be governed, and others govern, in the manner that nature intended; of which sort of government is that which a master exercises over a slave. but to govern ill is disadvantageous to both; for the same thing is useful to the part and to the whole, to the body and to the soul; but the slave is as it were a part of the master, as if he were an animated part of his body, though separate. for which reason a mutual utility and friendship may subsist between the master and the slave, i mean when they are placed by nature in that relation to each other, for the contrary takes place amongst those who are reduced to slavery by the law, or by conquest. chapter vii it is evident from what has been said, that a herile and a political government are not the same, or that all governments are alike to each other, as some affirm; for one is adapted to the nature of freemen, the other to that of slaves. domestic government is a monarchy, for that is what prevails in every house; but a political state is the government of free men and equals. the master is not so called from his knowing how to manage his slave, but because he is so; for the same reason a slave and a freeman have their respective appellations. there is also one sort of knowledge proper for a master, another for a slave; the slave's is of the nature of that which was taught by a slave at syracuse; for he for a stipulated sum instructed the boys in all the business of a household slave, of which there are various sorts to be learnt, as the art of cookery, and other such-like services, of which some are allotted to some, and others to others; some employments being more honourable, others more necessary; according to the proverb, "one slave excels another, one master excels another:" in such-like things the knowledge of a slave consists. the knowledge of the master is to be able properly to employ his slaves, for the mastership of slaves is the employment, not the mere possession of them; not that this knowledge contains anything great or respectable; for what a slave ought to know how to do, that a master ought to know how to order; for which reason, those who have it in their power to be free from these low attentions, employ a steward for this business, and apply themselves either to public affairs or philosophy: the knowledge of procuring what is necessary for a family is different from that which belongs either to the master or the slave: and to do this justly must be either by war or hunting. and thus much of the difference between a master and a slave. chapter viii [ a] as a slave is a particular species of property, let us by all means inquire into the nature of property in general, and the acquisition of money, according to the manner we have proposed. in the first place then, some one may doubt whether the getting of money is the same thing as economy, or whether it is a part of it, or something subservient to it; and if so, whether it is as the art of making shuttles is to the art of weaving, or the art of making brass to that of statue founding, for they are not of the same service; for the one supplies the tools, the other the matter: by the matter i mean the subject out of which the work is finished, as wool for the cloth and brass for the statue. it is evident then that the getting of money is not the same thing as economy, for the business of the one is to furnish the means of the other to use them; and what art is there employed in the management of a family but economy, but whether this is a part of it, or something of a different species, is a doubt; for if it is the business of him who is to get money to find out how riches and possessions may be procured, and both these arise from various causes, we must first inquire whether the art of husbandry is part of money-getting or something different, and in general, whether the same is not true of every acquisition and every attention which relates to provision. but as there are many sorts of provision, so are the methods of living both of man and the brute creation very various; and as it is impossible to live without food, the difference in that particular makes the lives of animals so different from each other. of beasts, some live in herds, others separate, as is most convenient for procuring themselves food; as some of them live upon flesh, others on fruit, and others on whatsoever they light on, nature having so distinguished their course of life, that they can very easily procure themselves subsistence; and as the same things are not agreeable to all, but one animal likes one thing and another another, it follows that the lives of those beasts who live upon flesh must be different from the lives of those who live on fruits; so is it with men, their lives differ greatly from each other; and of all these the shepherd's is the idlest, for they live upon the flesh of tame animals, without any trouble, while they are obliged to change their habitations on account of their flocks, which they are compelled to follow, cultivating, as it were, a living farm. others live exercising violence over living creatures, one pursuing this thing, another that, these preying upon men; those who live near lakes and marshes and rivers, or the sea itself, on fishing, while others are fowlers, or hunters of wild beasts; but the greater part of mankind live upon the produce of the earth and its cultivated fruits; and the manner in which all those live who follow the direction of nature, and labour for their own subsistence, is nearly the same, without ever thinking to procure any provision by way of exchange or merchandise, such are shepherds, husband-men, [ b] robbers, fishermen, and hunters: some join different employments together, and thus live very agreeably; supplying those deficiencies which were wanting to make their subsistence depend upon themselves only: thus, for instance, the same person shall be a shepherd and a robber, or a husbandman and a hunter; and so with respect to the rest, they pursue that mode of life which necessity points out. this provision then nature herself seems to have furnished all animals with, as well immediately upon their first origin as also when they are arrived at a state of maturity; for at the first of these periods some of them are provided in the womb with proper nourishment, which continues till that which is born can get food for itself, as is the case with worms and birds; and as to those which bring forth their young alive, they have the means for their subsistence for a certain time within themselves, namely milk. it is evident then that we may conclude of those things that are, that plants are created for the sake of animals, and animals for the sake of men; the tame for our use and provision; the wild, at least the greater part, for our provision also, or for some other advantageous purpose, as furnishing us with clothes, and the like. as nature therefore makes nothing either imperfect or in vain, it necessarily follows that she has made all these things for men: for which reason what we gain in war is in a certain degree a natural acquisition; for hunting is a part of it, which it is necessary for us to employ against wild beasts; and those men who being intended by nature for slavery are unwilling to submit to it, on which occasion such a. war is by nature just: that species of acquisition then only which is according to nature is part of economy; and this ought to be at hand, or if not, immediately procured, namely, what is necessary to be kept in store to live upon, and which are useful as well for the state as the family. and true riches seem to consist in these; and the acquisition of those possessions which are necessary for a happy life is not infinite; though solon says otherwise in this verse: "no bounds to riches can be fixed for man;" for they may be fixed as in other arts; for the instruments of no art whatsoever are infinite, either in their number or their magnitude; but riches are a number of instruments in domestic and civil economy; it is therefore evident that the acquisition of certain things according to nature is a part both of domestic and civil economy, and for what reason. chapter ix there is also another species of acquisition which they [ a] particularly call pecuniary, and with great propriety; and by this indeed it seems that there are no bounds to riches and wealth. now many persons suppose, from their near relation to each other, that this is one and the same with that we have just mentioned, but it is not the same as that, though not very different; one of these is natural, the other is not, but rather owing to some art and skill; we will enter into a particular examination of this subject. the uses of every possession are two, both dependent upon the thing itself, but not in the same manner, the one supposing an inseparable connection with it, the other not; as a shoe, for instance, which may be either worn, or exchanged for something else, both these are the uses of the shoe; for he who exchanges a shoe with some man who wants one, for money or provisions, uses the shoe as a shoe, but not according to the original intention, for shoes were not at first made to be exchanged. the same thing holds true of all other possessions; for barter, in general, had its original beginning in nature, some men having a surplus, others too little of what was necessary for them: hence it is evident, that the selling provisions for money is not according to the natural use of things; for they were obliged to use barter for those things which they wanted; but it is plain that barter could have no place in the first, that is to say, in family society; but must have begun when the number of those who composed the community was enlarged: for the first of these had all things in common; but when they came to be separated they were obliged to exchange with each other many different things which both parties wanted. which custom of barter is still preserved amongst many barbarous nations, who procure one necessary with another, but never sell anything; as giving and receiving wine for corn and the like. this sort of barter is not contradictory to nature, nor is it any species of money-getting; but is necessary in procuring that subsistence which is so consonant thereunto. but this barter introduced the use of money, as might be expected; for a convenient place from whence to import what you wanted, or to export what you had a surplus of, being often at a great distance, money necessarily made its way into commerce; for it is not everything which is naturally most useful that is easiest of carriage; for which reason they invented something to exchange with each other which they should mutually give and take, that being really valuable itself, should have the additional advantage of being of easy conveyance, for the purposes of life, as iron and silver, or anything else of the same nature: and this at first passed in value simply according to its weight or size; but in process of time it had a certain stamp, to save the trouble of weighing, which stamp expressed its value. [ b] money then being established as the necessary medium of exchange, another species of money-getting soon took place, namely, by buying and selling, at probably first in a simple manner, afterwards with more skill and experience, where and how the greatest profits might be made. for which reason the art of money-getting seems to be chiefly conversant about trade, and the business of it to be able to tell where the greatest profits can be made, being the means of procuring abundance of wealth and possessions: and thus wealth is very often supposed to consist in the quantity of money which any one possesses, as this is the medium by which all trade is conducted and a fortune made, others again regard it as of no value, as being of none by nature, but arbitrarily made so by compact; so that if those who use it should alter their sentiments, it would be worth nothing, as being of no service for any necessary purpose. besides, he who abounds in money often wants necessary food; and it is impossible to say that any person is in good circumstances when with all his possessions he may perish with hunger. like midas in the fable, who from his insatiable wish had everything he touched turned into gold. for which reason others endeavour to procure other riches and other property, and rightly, for there are other riches and property in nature; and these are the proper objects of economy: while trade only procures money, not by all means, but by the exchange of it, and for that purpose it is this which it is chiefly employed about, for money is the first principle and the end of trade; nor are there any bounds to be set to what is thereby acquired. thus also there are no limits to the art of medicine, with respect to the health which it attempts to procure; the same also is true of all other arts; no line can be drawn to terminate their bounds, the several professors of them being desirous to extend them as far as possible. (but still the means to be employed for that purpose are limited; and these are the limits beyond which the art cannot proceed.) thus in the art of acquiring riches there are no limits, for the object of that is money and possessions; but economy has a boundary, though this has not: for acquiring riches is not the business of that, for which reason it should seem that some boundary should be set to riches, though we see the contrary to this is what is practised; for all those who get riches add to their money without end; the cause of which is the near connection of these two arts with each other, which sometimes occasions the one to change employments with the other, as getting of money is their common object: for economy requires the possession of wealth, but not on its own account but with another view, to purchase things necessary therewith; but the other procures it merely to increase it: so that some persons are confirmed in their belief, that this is the proper object of economy, and think that for this purpose money should be saved and hoarded up without end; the reason for which disposition is, that they are intent upon living, but not upon living well; and this desire being boundless in its extent, the means which they aim at for that purpose are boundless also; and those who propose to live well, often confine that to the enjoyment of the pleasures of sense; so that as this also seems to depend upon what a man has, all their care is to get money, and hence arises the other cause for this art; for as this enjoyment is excessive in its degree, they endeavour to procure means proportionate to supply it; and if they cannot do this merely by the art of dealing in money, they will endeavour to do it by other ways, and apply all their powers to a purpose they were not by nature intended for. thus, for instance, courage was intended to inspire fortitude, not to get money by; neither is this the end of the soldier's or the physician's art, but victory and health. but such persons make everything subservient to money-getting, as if this was the only end; and to the end everything ought to refer. we have now considered that art of money-getting which is not necessary, and have seen in what manner we became in want of it; and also that which is necessary, which is different from it; for that economy which is natural, and whose object is to provide food, is not like this unlimited in its extent, but has its bounds. chapter x we have now determined what was before doubtful, whether or no the art of getting money is his business who is at the head of a family or a state, and though not strictly so, it is however very necessary; for as a politician does not make men, but receiving them from the hand of nature employs them to proper purposes; thus the earth, or the sea, or something else ought to supply them with provisions, and this it is the business of the master of the family to manage properly; for it is not the weaver's business to make yarn, but to use it, and to distinguish what is good and useful from what is bad and of no service; and indeed some one may inquire why getting money should be a part of economy when the art of healing is not, as it is as requisite that the family should be in health as that they should eat, or have anything else which is necessary; and as it is indeed in some particulars the business both of the master of the family, and he to whom the government of the state is entrusted, to see after the health of those under their care, but in others not, but the physician's; so also as to money; in some respects it is the business of the master of the family, in others not, but of the servant; but as we have already said, it is chiefly nature's, for it is her part to supply her offspring with food; for everything finds nourishment left for it in what produced it; for which reason the natural riches of all men arise from fruits and animals. now money-making, as we say, being twofold, it may be applied to two purposes, the service of the house or retail trade; of which the first is necessary and commendable, the other justly censurable; for it has not its origin in [ b] nature, but by it men gain from each other; for usury is most reasonably detested, as it is increasing our fortune by money itself, and not employing it for the purpose it was originally intended, namely exchange. and this is the explanation of the name (tokos), which means the breeding of money. for as offspring resemble their parents, so usury is money bred of money. whence of all forms of money-making it is most against nature. chapter xi having already sufficiently considered the general principles of this subject, let us now go into the practical part thereof; the one is a liberal employment for the mind, the other necessary. these things are useful in the management of one's affairs; to be skilful in the nature of cattle, which are most profitable, and where, and how; as for instance, what advantage will arise from keeping horses, or oxen, or sheep, or any other live stock; it is also necessary to be acquainted with the comparative value of these things, and which of them in particular places are worth most; for some do better in one place, some in another. agriculture also should be understood, and the management of arable grounds and orchards; and also the care of bees, and fish, and birds, from whence any profit may arise; these are the first and most proper parts of domestic management. with respect to gaining money by exchange, the principal method of doing this is by merchandise, which is carried on in three different ways, either by sending the commodity for sale by sea or by land, or else selling it on the place where it grows; and these differ from each other in this, that the one is more profitable, the other safer. the second method is by usury. the third by receiving wages for work done, and this either by being employed in some mean art, or else in mere bodily labour. there is also a third species of improving a fortune, that is something between this and the first; for it partly depends upon nature, partly upon exchange; the subject of which is, things that are immediately from the earth, or their produce, which, though they bear no fruit, are yet useful, such as selling of timber and the whole art of metallurgy, which includes many different species, for there are various sorts of things dug out of the earth. these we have now mentioned in general, but to enter into particulars concerning each of them, though it might be useful to the artist, would be tiresome to dwell on. now of all the works of art, those are the most excellent wherein chance has the least to do, and those are the meanest which deprave the body, those the most servile in which bodily strength alone is chiefly wanted, those most illiberal which require least skill; but as there are books written on these subjects by some persons, as by chares the panian, and apollodorus the lemnian, upon husbandry and planting; and by others on other matters, [ b] let those who have occasion consult them thereon; besides, every person should collect together whatsoever he hears occasionally mentioned, by means of which many of those who aimed at making a fortune have succeeded in their intentions; for all these are useful to those who make a point of getting money, as in the contrivance of thales the milesian (which was certainly a gainful one, but as it was his it was attributed to his wisdom, though the method he used was a general one, and would universally succeed), when they reviled him for his poverty, as if the study of philosophy was useless: for they say that he, perceiving by his skill in astrology that there would be great plenty of olives that year, while it was yet winter, having got a little money, he gave earnest for all the oil works that were in miletus and chios, which he hired at a low price, there being no one to bid against him; but when the season came for making oil, many persons wanting them, he all at once let them upon what terms he pleased; and raising a large sum of money by that means, convinced them that it was easy for philosophers to be rich if they chose it, but that that was not what they aimed at; in this manner is thales said to have shown his wisdom. it indeed is, as we have said, generally gainful for a person to contrive to make a monopoly of anything; for which reason some cities also take this method when they want money, and monopolise their commodities. there was a certain person in sicily who laid out a sum of money which was deposited in his hand in buying up all the iron from the iron merchants; so that when the dealers came from the markets to purchase, there was no one had any to sell but himself; and though he put no great advance upon it, yet by laying out fifty talents he made an hundred. when dionysius heard this he permitted him to take his money with him, but forbid him to continue any longer in sicily, as being one who contrived means for getting money inconsistent with his affairs. this man's view and thales's was exactly the same; both of them contrived to procure a monopoly for themselves: it is useful also for politicians to understand these things, for many states want to raise money and by such means, as well as private families, nay more so; for which reason some persons who are employed in the management of public affairs confine themselves to this province only. chapter xii there are then three parts of domestic government, the masters, of which we have already treated, the fathers, and the husbands; now the government of the wife and children should both be that of free persons, but not the [i b] same; for the wife should be treated as a citizen of a free state, the children should be under kingly power; for the male is by nature superior to the female, except when something happens contrary to the usual course of nature, as is the elder and perfect to the younger and imperfect. now in the generality of free states, the governors and the governed alternately change place; for an equality without any preference is what nature chooses; however, when one governs and another is governed, she endeavours that there should be a distinction between them in forms, expressions, and honours; according to what amasis said of his laver. this then should be the established rule between the man and the woman. the government of children should be kingly; for the power of the father over the child is founded in affection and seniority, which is a species of kingly government; for which reason homer very properly calls jupiter "the father of gods and men," who was king of both these; for nature requires that a king should be of the same species with those whom he governs, though superior in some particulars, as is the case between the elder and the younger, the father and the son. chapter xiii it is evident then that in the due government of a family, greater attention should be paid to the several members of it and their virtues than to the possessions or riches of it; and greater to the freemen than the slaves: but here some one may doubt whether there is any other virtue in a slave than his organic services, and of higher estimation than these, as temperance, fortitude, justice, and such-like habits, or whether they possess only bodily qualities: each side of the question has its difficulties; for if they possess these virtues, wherein do they differ from freemen? and that they do not, since they are men, and partakers of reason, is absurd. nearly the same inquiry may be made concerning a woman and a child, whether these also have their proper virtues; whether a woman ought to be temperate, brave, and just, and whether a child is temperate or no; and indeed this inquiry ought to be general, whether the virtues of those who, by nature, either govern or are governed, are the same or different; for if it is necessary that both of them should partake of the fair and good, why is it also necessary that, without exception, the one should govern, the other always be governed? for this cannot arise from their possessing these qualities in different degrees; for to govern, and to be governed, are things different in species, but more or less are not. and yet it is wonderful that one party ought to have them, and the other not; for if he who is to govern should not be temperate and just, how can he govern well? or if he is to be governed, how can he be governed well? for he who is intemperate [ a] and a coward will never do what he ought: it is evident then that both parties ought to be virtuous; but there is a difference between them, as there is between those who by nature command and who by nature obey, and this originates in the soul; for in this nature has planted the governing and submitting principle, the virtues of which we say are different, as are those of a rational and an irrational being. it is plain then that the same principle may be extended farther, and that there are in nature a variety of things which govern and are governed; for a freeman is governed in a different manner from a slave, a male from a female, and a man from a child: and all these have parts of mind within them, but in a different manner. thus a slave can have no power of determination, a woman but a weak one, a child an imperfect one. thus also must it necessarily be with respect to moral virtues; all must be supposed to possess them, but not in the same manner, but as is best suited to every one's employment; on which account he who is to govern ought to be perfect in moral virtue, for his business is entirely that of an architect, and reason is the architect; while others want only that portion of it which may be sufficient for their station; from whence it is evident, that although moral virtue is common to all those we have spoken of, yet the temperance of a man and a woman are not the same, nor their courage, nor their justice, though socrates thought otherwise; for the courage of the man consists in commanding, the woman's in obeying; and the same is true in other particulars: and this will be evident to those who will examine different virtues separately; for those who use general terms deceive themselves when they say, that virtue consists in a good disposition of mind, or doing what is right, or something of this sort. they do much better who enumerate the different virtues as georgias did, than those who thus define them; and as sophocles speaks of a woman, we think of all persons, that their 'virtues should be applicable to their characters, for says he, "silence is a woman's ornament," but it is not a man's; and as a child is incomplete, it is evident that his virtue is not to be referred to himself in his present situation, but to that in which he will be complete, and his preceptor. in like manner the virtue of a slave is to be referred to his master; for we laid it down as a maxim, that the use of a slave was to employ him in what you wanted; so that it is clear enough that few virtues are wanted in his station, only that he may not neglect his work through idleness or fear: some person may question if what i have said is true, whether virtue is not necessary for artificers in their calling, for they often through idleness neglect their work, but the difference between them is very great; for a slave is connected with you for life, but the artificer not so nearly: as near therefore as the artificer approaches to the situation of a slave, just so much ought he to have of the virtues of one; for a mean artificer is to a certain point a slave; but then a slave is one of those things which are by nature what they are, but this is not true [ b] of a shoemaker, or any other artist. it is evident then that a slave ought to be trained to those virtues which are proper for his situation by his master; and not by him who has the power of a master, to teach him any particular art. those therefore are in the wrong who would deprive slaves of reason, and say that they have only to follow their orders; for slaves want more instruction than children, and thus we determine this matter. it is necessary, i am sensible, for every one who treats upon government, to enter particularly into the relations of husband and wife, and of parent and child, and to show what are the virtues of each and their respective connections with each other; what is right and what is wrong; and how the one ought to be followed, and the other avoided. since then every family is part of a city, and each of those individuals is part of a family, and the virtue of the parts ought to correspond to the virtue of the whole; it is necessary, that both the wives and children of the community should be instructed correspondent to the nature thereof, if it is of consequence to the virtue of the state, that the wives and children therein should be virtuous, and of consequence it certainly is, for the wives are one half of the free persons; and of the children the succeeding citizens are to be formed. as then we have determined these points, we will leave the rest to be spoken to in another place, as if the subject was now finished; and beginning again anew, first consider the sentiments of those who have treated of the most perfect forms of government. book ii chapter i since then we propose to inquire what civil society is of all others best for those who have it in their power to live entirely as they wish, it is necessary to examine into the polity of those states which are allowed to be well governed; and if there should be any others which some persons have described, and which appear properly regulated, to note what is right and useful in them; and when we point out wherein they have failed, let not this be imputed to an affectation of wisdom, for it is because there are great defects in all those which are already established, that i have been induced to undertake this work. we will begin with that part of the subject which naturally presents itself first to our consideration. the members of every state must of necessity have all things in common, or some things common, and not others, or nothing at all common. to have nothing in common is evidently impossible, for society itself is one species of [ a] community; and the first thing necessary thereunto is a common place of habitation, namely the city, which must be one, and this every citizen must have a share in. but in a government which is to be well founded, will it be best to admit of a community in everything which is capable thereof, or only in some particulars, but in others not? for it is possible that the citizens may have their wives, and children, and goods in common, as in plato's commonwealth; for in that socrates affirms that all these particulars ought to be so. which then shall we prefer? the custom which is already established, or the laws which are proposed in that treatise? chapter ii now as a community of wives is attended with many other difficulties, so neither does the cause for which he would frame his government in this manner seem agreeable to reason, nor is it capable of producing that end which he has proposed, and for which he says it ought to take place; nor has he given any particular directions for putting it in practice. now i also am willing to agree with socrates in the principle which he proceeds upon, and admit that the city ought to be one as much as possible; and yet it is evident that if it is contracted too much, it will be no longer a city, for that necessarily supposes a multitude; so that if we proceed in this manner, we shall reduce a city to a family, and a family to a single person: for we admit that a family is one in a greater degree than a city, and a single person than a family; so that if this end could be obtained, it should never be put in practice, as it would annihilate the city; for a city does not only consist of a large number of inhabitants, but there must also be different sorts; for were they all alike, there could be no city; for a confederacy and a city are two different things; for a confederacy is valuable from its numbers, although all those who compose it are men of the same calling; for this is entered into for the sake of mutual defence, as we add an additional weight to make the scale go down. the same distinction prevails between a city and a nation when the people are not collected into separate villages, but live as the arcadians. now those things in which a city should be one are of different sorts, and in preserving an alternate reciprocation of power between these, the safety thereof consists (as i have already mentioned in my treatise on morals), for amongst freemen and equals this is absolutely necessary; for all cannot govern at the same time, but either by the year, or according to some other regulation or time, by which means every one in his turn will be in office; as if the shoemakers and carpenters should exchange occupations, and not always be employed in the same calling. but as it is evidently better, that these should continue to exercise their respective trades; so also in civil society, where it is possible, it would be better that the government should continue in the same hands; but where it [ b] is not (as nature has made all men equal, and therefore it is just, be the administration good or bad, that all should partake of it), there it is best to observe a rotation, and let those who are their equals by turns submit to those who are at that time magistrates, as they will, in their turns, alternately be governors and governed, as if they were different men: by the same method different persons will execute different offices. from hence it is evident, that a city cannot be one in the manner that some persons propose; and that what has been said to be the greatest good which it could enjoy, is absolutely its destruction, which cannot be: for the good of anything is that which preserves it. for another reason also it is clear, that it is not for the best to endeavour to make a city too much one, because a family is more sufficient in itself than a single person, a city than a family; and indeed plato supposes that a city owes its existence to that sufficiency in themselves which the members of it enjoy. if then this sufficiency is so desirable, the less the city is one the better. chapter iii but admitting that it is most advantageous for a city to be one as much as possible, it does not seem to follow that this will take place by permitting all at once to say this is mine, and this is not mine (though this is what socrates regards as a proof that a city is entirely one), for the word all is used in two senses; if it means each individual, what socrates proposes will nearly take place; for each person will say, this is his own son, and his own wife, and his own property, and of everything else that may happen to belong to him, that it is his own. but those who have their wives and children in common will not say so, but all will say so, though not as individuals; therefore, to use the word all is evidently a fallacious mode of speech; for this word is sometimes used distributively, and sometimes collectively, on account of its double meaning, and is the cause of inconclusive syllogisms in reasoning. therefore for all persons to say the same thing was their own, using the word all in its distributive sense, would be well, but is impossible: in its collective sense it would by no means contribute to the concord of the state. besides, there would be another inconvenience attending this proposal, for what is common to many is taken least care of; for all men regard more what is their own than what others share with them in, to which they pay less attention than is incumbent on every one: let me add also, that every one is more negligent of what another is to see to, as well as himself, than of his own private business; as in a family one is often worse served by many servants than by a few. let each citizen then in the state have a thousand children, but let none of them be considered as the children of that individual, but let the relation of father and child be common to them all, and they will all be neglected. besides, in consequence of this, [ a] whenever any citizen behaved well or ill, every person, be the number what it would, might say, this is my son, or this man's or that; and in this manner would they speak, and thus would they doubt of the whole thousand, or of whatever number the city consisted; and it would be uncertain to whom each child belonged, and when it was born, who was to take care of it: and which do you think is better, for every one to say this is mine, while they may apply it equally to two thousand or ten thousand; or as we say, this is mine in our present forms of government, where one man calls another his son, another calls that same person his brother, another nephew, or some other relation, either by blood or marriage, and first extends his care to him and his, while another regards him as one of the same parish and the same tribe; and it is better for any one to be a nephew in his private capacity than a son after that manner. besides, it will be impossible to prevent some persons from suspecting that they are brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers to each other; for, from the mutual likeness there is between the sire and the offspring, they will necessarily conclude in what relation they stand to each other, which circumstance, we are informed by those writers who describe different parts of the world, does sometimes happen; for in upper africa there are wives in common who yet deliver their children to their respective fathers, being guided by their likeness to them. there are also some mares and cows which naturally bring forth their young so like the male, that we can easily distinguish by which of them they were impregnated: such was the mare called just, in pharsalia. chapter iv besides, those who contrive this plan of community cannot easily avoid the following evils; namely, blows, murders involuntary or voluntary, quarrels, and reproaches, all which it would be impious indeed to be guilty of towards our fathers and mothers, or those who are nearly related to us; though not to those who are not connected to us by any tie of affinity: and certainly these mischiefs must necessarily happen oftener amongst those who do not know how they are connected to each other than those who do; and when they do happen, if it is among the first of these, they admit of a legal expiation, but amongst the latter that cannot be done. it is also absurd for those who promote a community of children to forbid those who love each other from indulging themselves in the last excesses of that passion, while they do not restrain them from the passion itself, or those intercourses which are of all things most improper, between a father and a son, a brother and a brother, and indeed the thing itself is most absurd. it is also ridiculous to prevent this intercourse between the nearest relations, for no other reason than the violence of the pleasure, while they think that the relation of father and daughter, the brother and sister, is of no consequence at all. it seems also more advantageous for the state, that the husbandmen should have their wives and children in common than the military, for there will be less affection [ b] among them in that case than when otherwise; for such persons ought to be under subjection, that they may obey the laws, and not seek after innovations. upon the whole, the consequences of such a law as this would be directly contrary to those things which good laws ought to establish, and which socrates endeavoured to establish by his regulations concerning women and children: for we think that friendship is the greatest good which can happen to any city, as nothing so much prevents seditions: and amity in a city is what socrates commends above all things, which appears to be, as indeed he says, the effect of friendship; as we learn from aristophanes in the erotics, who says, that those who love one another from the excess of that passion, desire to breathe the same soul, and from being two to be blended into one: from whence it would necessarily follow, that both or one of them must be destroyed. but now in a city which admits of this community, the tie of friendship must, from that very cause, be extremely weak, when no father can say, this is my son; or son, this is my father; for as a very little of what is sweet, being mixed with a great deal of water is imperceptible after the mixture, so must all family connections, and the names they go by, be necessarily disregarded in such a community, it being then by no means necessary that the father should have any regard for him he called a son, or the brothers for those they call brothers. there are two things which principally inspire mankind with care and love of their offspring, knowing it is their own, and what ought to be the object of their affection, neither of which can take place in this sort of community. as for exchanging the children of the artificers and husbandmen with those of the military, and theirs reciprocally with these, it will occasion great confusion in whatever manner it shall be done; for of necessity, those who carry the children must know from whom they took and to whom they gave them; and by this means those evils which i have already mentioned will necessarily be the more likely to happen, as blows, incestuous love, murders, and the like; for those who are given from their own parents to other citizens, the military, for instance, will not call them brothers, sons, fathers, or mothers. the same thing would happen to those of the military who were placed among the other citizens; so that by this means every one would be in fear how to act in consequence of consanguinity. and thus let us determine concerning a community of wives and children. chapter v we proceed next to consider in what manner property should be regulated in a state which is formed after the most perfect mode of government, whether it should be common or not; for this may be considered as a separate question from what had been determined concerning [ a] wives and children; i mean, whether it is better that these should be held separate, as they now everywhere are, or that not only possessions but also the usufruct of them should be in common; or that the soil should have a particular owner, but that the produce should be brought together and used as one common stock, as some nations at present do; or on the contrary, should the soil be common, and should it also be cultivated in common, while the produce is divided amongst the individuals for their particular use, which is said to be practised by some barbarians; or shall both the soil and the fruit be common? when the business of the husbandman devolves not on the citizen, the matter is much easier settled; but when those labour together who have a common right of possession, this may occasion several difficulties; for there may not be an equal proportion between their labour and what they consume; and those who labour hard and have but a small proportion of the produce, will certainly complain of those who take a large share of it and do but little for that. upon the whole, as a community between man and man so entire as to include everything possible, and thus to have all things that man can possess in common, is very difficult, so is it particularly so with respect to property; and this is evident from that community which takes place between those who go out to settle a colony; for they frequently have disputes with each other upon the most common occasions, and come to blows upon trifles: we find, too, that we oftenest correct those slaves who are generally employed in the common offices of the family: a community of property then has these and other inconveniences attending it. but the manner of life which is now established, more particularly when embellished with good morals and a system of equal laws, is far superior to it, for it will have the advantage of both; by both i mean properties being common, and divided also; for in some respects it ought to be in a manner common, but upon the whole private: for every man's attention being employed on his own particular concerns, will prevent mutual complaints against each other; nay, by this means industry will be increased, as each person will labour to improve his own private property; and it will then be, that from a principle of virtue they will mutually perform good offices to each other, according to the proverb, "all things are common amongst friends;" and in some cities there are traces of this custom to be seen, so that it is not impracticable, and particularly in those which are best governed; some things are by this means in a manner common, and others might be so; for there, every person enjoying his own private property, some things he assists his friend with, others are considered as in common; as in lacedaemon, where they use each other's slaves, as if they were, so to speak, their own, as they do their horses and dogs, or even any provision they may want in a journey. it is evident then that it is best to have property private, but to make the use of it common; but how the citizens are to be brought to it is the particular [ b] business of the legislator. and also with respect to pleasure, it is unspeakable how advantageous it is, that a man should think he has something which he may call his own; for it is by no means to no purpose, that each person should have an affection for himself, for that is natural, and yet to be a self-lover is justly censured; for we mean by that, not one that simply loves himself, but one that loves himself more than he ought; in like manner we blame a money-lover, and yet both money and self is what all men love. besides, it is very pleasing to us to oblige and assist our friends and companions, as well as those whom we are connected with by the rights of hospitality; and this cannot be done without the establishment of private property, which cannot take place with those who make a city too much one; besides, they prevent every opportunity of exercising two principal virtues, modesty and liberality. modesty with respect to the female sex, for this virtue requires you to abstain from her who is another's; liberality, which depends upon private property, for without that no one can appear liberal, or do any generous action; for liberality consists in imparting to others what is our own. this system of polity does indeed recommend itself by its good appearance and specious pretences to humanity; and when first proposed to any one, must give him great pleasure, as he will conclude it to be a wonderful bond of friendship, connecting all to all; particularly when any one censures the evils which are now to be found in society, as arising from properties not being common, i mean the disputes which happen between man and man, upon their different contracts with each other; those judgments which are passed in court in consequence of fraud, and perjury, and flattering the rich, none of which arise from properties being private, but from the vices of mankind. besides, those who live in one general community, and have all things in common, oftener dispute with each other than those who have their property separate; from the very small number indeed of those who have their property in common, compared with those where it is appropriated, the instances of their quarrels are but few. it is also but right to mention, not only the inconveniences they are preserved from who live in a communion of goods, but also the advantages they are deprived of; for when the whole comes to be considered, this manner of life will be found impracticable. we must suppose, then, that socrates's mistake arose from the principle he set out with being false; we admit, indeed, that both a family and a city ought to be one in some particulars, but not entirely; for there is a point beyond which if a city proceeds in reducing itself to one, it will be no longer a city. there is also another point at which it will still continue to be a city, but it will approach so near to not being one, that it will be worse than none; as if any one should reduce the voices of those who sing in concert to one, or a verse to a foot. but the people ought to be made one, and a community, as i have already said, by education; as property at lacedaemon, and their public tables at crete, were made common by their legislators. but yet, whosoever shall introduce any education, and think thereby to make his city excellent and respectable, will be absurd, while he expects to form it by such regulations, and not by manners, philosophy, and laws. and whoever [ a] would establish a government upon a community of goods, ought to know that he should consult the experience of many years, which would plainly enough inform him whether such a scheme is useful; for almost all things have already been found out, but some have been neglected, and others which have been known have not been put in practice. but this would be most evident, if any one could see such a government really established: for it would be impossible to frame such a city without dividing and separating it into its distinct parts, as public tables, wards, and tribes; so that here the laws will do nothing more than forbid the military to engage in agriculture, which is what the lacedaemonians are at present endeavouring to do. nor has socrates told us (nor is it easy to say) what plan of government should be pursued with respect to the individuals in the state where there is a community of goods established; for though the majority of his citizens will in general consist of a multitude of persons of different occupations, of those he has determined nothing; whether the property of the husbandman ought to be in common, or whether each person should have his share to himself; and also, whether their wives and children ought to be in common: for if all things are to be alike common to all, where will be the difference between them and the military, or what would they get by submitting to their government? and upon what principles would they do it, unless they should establish the wise practice of the cretans? for they, allowing everything else to their slaves, forbid them only gymnastic exercises and the use of arms. and if they are not, but these should be in the same situation with respect to their property which they are in other cities, what sort of a community will there be? in one city there must of necessity be two, and those contrary to each other; for he makes the military the guardians of the state, and the husbandman, artisans, and others, citizens; and all those quarrels, accusations, and things of the like sort, which he says are the bane of other cities, will be found in his also: notwithstanding socrates says they will not want many laws in consequence of their education, but such only as may be necessary for regulating the streets, the markets, and the like, while at the same time it is the education of the military only that he has taken any care of. besides, he makes the husbandmen masters of property upon paying a tribute; but this would be likely to make them far more troublesome and high-spirited than the helots, the penestise, or the slaves which others employ; nor has he ever determined whether it is necessary to give any attention to them in these particulars, nor thought of what is connected therewith, their polity, their education, their laws; besides, it is of no little consequence, nor is it easy to determine, how these should be framed so as to preserve the community of the military. besides, if he makes the wives common, while the property [ b] continues separate, who shall manage the domestic concerns with the same care which the man bestows upon his fields? nor will the inconvenience be remedied by making property as well as wives common; and it is absurd to draw a comparison from the brute creation, and say, that the same principle should regulate the connection of a man and a woman which regulates theirs amongst whom there is no family association. it is also very hazardous to settle the magistracy as socrates has done; for he would have persons of the same rank always in office, which becomes the cause of sedition even amongst those who are of no account, but more particularly amongst those who are of a courageous and warlike disposition; it is indeed evidently necessary that he should frame his community in this manner; for that golden particle which god has mixed up in the soul of man flies not from one to the other, but always continues with the same; for he says, that some of our species have gold, and others silver, blended in their composition from the moment of their birth: but those who are to be husbandmen and artists, brass and iron; besides, though he deprives the military of happiness, he says, that the legislator ought to make all the citizens happy; but it is impossible that the whole city can be happy, without all, or the greater, or some part of it be happy. for happiness is not like that numerical equality which arises from certain numbers when added together, although neither of them may separately contain it; for happiness cannot be thus added together, but must exist in every individual, as some properties belong to every integral; and if the military are not happy, who else are so? for the artisans are not, nor the multitude of those who are employed in inferior offices. the state which socrates has described has all these defects, and others which are not of less consequence. chapter vi it is also nearly the same in the treatise upon laws which was writ afterwards, for which reason it will be proper in this place to consider briefly what he has there said upon government, for socrates has thoroughly settled but very few parts of it; as for instance, in what manner the community of wives and children ought to be regulated, how property should be established, and government conducted. now he divides the inhabitants into two parts, husbandmen and soldiers, and from these he select a third part who are to be senators and govern the city; but he has not said whether or no the husbandman and artificer shall have any or what share in the government, or whether they shall have arms, and join with the others in war, or not. he thinks also that the women ought to go to war, and have the same education as the soldiers; as to other particulars, he has filled his treatise with matter foreign to the purpose; and with respect to education, he has only said what that of the guards ought to be. [ a] as to his book of laws, laws are the principal thing which that contains, for he has there said but little concerning government; and this government, which he was so desirous of framing in such a manner as to impart to its members a more entire community of goods than is to be found in other cities, he almost brings round again to be the same as that other government which he had first proposed; for except the community of wives and goods, he has framed both his governments alike, for the education of the citizens is to be the same in both; they are in both to live without any servile employ, and their common tables are to be the same, excepting that in that he says the women should have common tables, and that there should be a thousand men-at-arms, in this, that there should be five thousand. all the discourses of socrates are masterly, noble, new, and inquisitive; but that they are all true it may probably be too much to say. for now with respect to the number just spoken of, it must be acknowledged that he would want the country of babylonia for them, or some one like it, of an immeasurable extent, to support five thousand idle persons, besides a much greater number of women and servants. every one, it is true, may frame an hypothesis as he pleases, but yet it ought to be possible. it has been said, that a legislator should have two things in view when he frames his laws, the country and the people. he will also do well, if he has some regard to the neighbouring states, if he intends that his community should maintain any political intercourse with them, for it is not only necessary that they should understand that practice of war which is adapted to their own country, but to others also; for admitting that any one chooses not this life either in public or private, yet there is not the less occasion for their being formidable to their enemies, not only when they invade their country, but also when they retire out of it. it may also be considered whether the quantity of each person's property may not be settled in a different manner from what he has done it in, by making it more determinate; for he says, that every one ought to have enough whereon to live moderately, as if any one had said to live well, which is the most comprehensive expression. besides, a man may live moderately and miserably at the same time; he had therefore better have proposed, that they should live both moderately and liberally; for unless these two conspire, luxury will come in on the one hand, or wretchedness on the other, since these two modes of living are the only ones applicable to the employment of our substance; for we cannot say with respect to a man's fortune, that he is mild or courageous, but we may say that he is prudent and liberal, which are the only qualities connected therewith. it is also absurd to render property equal, and not to provide for the increasing number of the citizens; but to leave that circumstance uncertain, as if it would regulate itself according to the number of women who [ b] should happen to be childless, let that be what it would because this seems to take place in other cities; but the case would not be the same in such a state which he proposes and those which now actually unite; for in these no one actually wants, as the property is divided amongst the whole community, be their numbers what they will; but as it could not then be divided, the supernumeraries, whether they were many or few, would have nothing at all. but it is more necessary than even to regulate property, to take care that the increase of the people should not exceed a certain number; and in determining that, to take into consideration those children who will die, and also those women who will be barren; and to neglect this, as is done in several cities, is to bring certain poverty on the citizens; and poverty is the cause of sedition and evil. now phidon the corinthian, one of the oldest legislators, thought the families and the number of the citizens should continue the same; although it should happen that all should have allotments at the first, disproportionate to their numbers. in plato's laws it is however different; we shall mention hereafter what we think would be best in these particulars. he has also neglected in that treatise to point out how the governors are to be distinguished from the governed; for he says, that as of one sort of wool the warp ought to be made, and of another the woof, so ought some to govern, and others to be governed. but since he admits, that all their property may be increased fivefold, why should he not allow the same increase to the country? he ought also to consider whether his allotment of the houses will be useful to the community, for he appoints two houses to each person, separate from each other; but it is inconvenient for a person to inhabit two houses. now he is desirous to have his whole plan of government neither a democracy nor an oligarchy, but something between both, which he calls a polity, for it is to be composed of men-at-arms. if plato intended to frame a state in which more than in any other everything should be common, he has certainly given it a right name; but if he intended it to be the next in perfection to that which he had already framed, it is not so; for perhaps some persons will give the preference to the lacedaemonian form of government, or some other which may more completely have attained to the aristocratic form. some persons say, that the most perfect government should be composed of all others blended together, for which reason they commend that of lacedaemon; for they say, that this is composed of an oligarchy, a monarchy, and a democracy, their kings representing the monarchical part, the senate the oligarchical; and, that in the ephori may be found the democratical, as these are taken from the people. but some say, that in the ephori is absolute power, and that it is their common meal and daily course of life, in which the democratical form is represented. it is also said in this treatise of [ a] laws, that the best form of government must, be one composed of a democracy and a tyranny; though such a mixture no one else would ever allow to be any government at all, or if it is, the worst possible; those propose what is much better who blend many governments together; for the most perfect is that which is formed of many parts. but now in this government of plato's there are no traces of a monarchy, only of an oligarchy and democracy; though he seems to choose that it should rather incline to an oligarchy, as is evident from the appointment of the magistrates; for to choose them by lot is common to both; but that a man of fortune must necessarily be a member of the assembly, or to elect the magistrates, or take part in the management of public affairs, while others are passed over, makes the state incline to an oligarchy; as does the endeavouring that the greater part of the rich may be in office, and that the rank of their appointments may correspond with their fortunes. the same principle prevails also in the choice of their senate; the manner of electing which is favourable also to an oligarchy; for all are obliged to vote for those who are senators of the first class, afterwards they vote for the same number out of the second, and then out of the third; but this compulsion to vote at the election of senators does not extend to the third and fourth classes and the first and second class only are obliged to vote for the fourth. by this means he says he shall necessarily have an equal number of each rank, but he is mistaken--for the majority will always consist of those of the first rank, and the most considerable people; and for this reason, that many of the commonalty not being obliged to it, will not attend the elections. from hence it is evident, that such a state will not consist of a democracy and a monarchy, and this will be further proved by what we shall say when we come particularly to consider this form of government. there will also great danger arise from the manner of electing the senate, when those who are elected themselves are afterwards to elect others; for by this means, if a certain number choose to combine together, though not very considerable, the election will always fall according to their pleasure. such are the things which plato proposes concerning government in his book of laws. chapter vii there are also some other forms of government, which have been proposed either by private persons, or philosophers, or politicians, all of which come much nearer to those which have been really established, or now exist, than these two of plato's; for neither have they introduced the innovation of a community of wives and children, and public tables for the women, but have been contented to set out with establishing such rules as are absolutely necessary. there are some persons who think, that the first object of government should be to regulate well everything relating to private property; for they say, that a neglect herein is the source of all seditions whatsoever. for this reason, phaleas the chalcedonian first proposed, that the fortunes of the citizens should be equal, which he thought was not difficult to accomplish when a community was first settled, but that it was a work of greater difficulty in one that had been long established; but yet that it might be effected, and an equality of circumstances introduced by these means, that the rich should give marriage portions, but never receive any, while the poor should always receive, but never give. but plato, in his treatise of laws, thinks that a difference in circumstances should be permitted to a certain degree; but that no citizen should be allowed to possess more than five times as much as the lowest census, as we have already mentioned. but legislators who would establish this principle are apt to overlook what they ought to consider; that while they regulate the quantity of provisions which each individual shall possess, they ought also to regulate the number of his children; for if these exceed the allotted quantity of provision, the law must necessarily be repealed; and yet, in spite of the repeal, it will have the bad effect of reducing many from wealth to poverty, so difficult is it for innovators not to fall into such mistakes. that an equality of goods was in some degree serviceable to strengthen the bands of society, seems to have been known to some of the ancients; for solon made a law, as did some others also, to restrain persons from possessing as much land as they pleased. and upon the same principle there are laws which forbid men to sell their property, as among the locrians, unless they can prove that some notorious misfortune has befallen them. they were also to preserve their ancient patrimony, which custom being broken through by the leucadians, made their government too democratic; for by that means it was no longer necessary to be possessed of a certain fortune to be qualified to be a magistrate. but if an equality of goods is established, this may be either too much, when it enables the people to live luxuriously, or too little, when it obliges them to live hard. hence it is evident, that it is not proper for the legislator to establish an equality of circumstances, but to fix a proper medium. besides, if any one should regulate the division of property in such a manner that there should be a moderate sufficiency for all, it would be of no use; for it is of more consequence that the citizen should entertain a similarity of sentiments than an equality of circumstances; but this can never be attained unless they are properly educated under the direction of the law. but probably phaleas may say, that this in what he himself mentions; for he both proposes a equality of property and one plan of education in his city. but he should have said particularly what education he intended, nor is it of any service to have this to much one; for this education may be one, and yet such as will make the citizens over-greedy, to grasp after honours, or riches, or both. besides, not only an inequality of possessions, but also of honours, will occasion [ a] seditions, but this upon contrary grounds; for the vulgar will be seditious if there be an inequality of goods, by those of more elevated sentiments, if there is an equality of honours. "when good and bad do equal honours share." for men are not guilty of crimes for necessaries only (for which he thinks an equality of goods would be a sufficient remedy, as they would then have no occasion to steal cold or hunger), but that they may enjoy what they desire, and not wish for it in vain; for if their desire extend beyond the common necessaries of life, they were be wicked to gratify them; and not only so, but if their wishes point that way, they will do the same to enjoy those pleasures which are free from the alloy of pain. what remedy then shall we find for these three disorders? and first, to prevent stealing from necessity, let every one be supplied with a moderate subsistence, which may make the addition of his own industry necessary; second to prevent stealing to procure the luxuries of life, temperance be enjoined; and thirdly, let those who wish for pleasure in itself seek for it only in philosophy, all others want the assistance of men. since then men are guilty of the greatest crimes from ambition, and not from necessity, no one, for instance aims at being a tyrant to keep him from the cold, hence great honour is due to him who kills not a thief, but tyrant; so that polity which phaleas establishes would only be salutary to prevent little crimes. he has also been very desirous to establish such rules as will conduce to perfect the internal policy of his state, and he ought also to have done the same with respect to its neighbours and all foreign nations; for the considerations of the military establishment should take place in planning every government, that it may not be unprovided in case of a war, of which he has said nothing; so also with respect to property, it ought not only to be adapted to the exigencies of the state, but also to such dangers as may arise from without. thus it should not be so much as to tempt those who are near, and more powerful to invade it, while those who possess it are not able to drive out the invaders, nor so little as that the state should not be able to go to war with those who are quite equal to itself, and of this he has determined nothing; it must indeed be allowed that it is advantageous to a community to be rather rich than poor; probably the proper boundary is this, not to possess enough to make it worth while for a more powerful neighbour to attack you, any more than he would those who had not so much as yourself; thus when autophradatus proposed to besiege atarneus, eubulus advised him to consider what time it would require to take the city, and then would have him determine whether it would answer, for that he should choose, if it would even take less than he proposed, to quit the place; his saying this made autophradatus reflect upon the business and give over the siege. there is, indeed, some advantage in an equality of goods amongst the citizens to prevent seditions; and yet, to say truth, no very great one; for men of great abilities will stomach their being put upon a level with the rest of the community. for which reason they will very often appear ready for every commotion and sedition; for the wickedness of mankind is insatiable. for though at first two oboli might be sufficient, yet when once it is become customary, they continually want something more, until they set no limits to their expectations; for it is the nature of our desires to be boundless, and many live only to gratify them. but for this purpose the first object is, not so much to establish an equality of fortune, as to prevent those who are of a good disposition from desiring more than their own, and those who are of a bad one from being able to acquire it; and this may be done if they are kept in an inferior station, and not exposed to injustice. nor has he treated well the equality of goods, for he has extended his regulation only to land; whereas a man's substance consists not only in this, but also in slaves, cattle, money, and all that variety of things which fall under the name of chattels; now there must be either an equality established in all these, or some certain rule, or they must be left entirely at large. it appears too by his laws, that he intends to establish only a small state, as all the artificers are to belong to the public, and add nothing to the complement of citizens; but if all those who are to be employed in public works are to be the slaves of the public, it should be done in the same manner as it is at epidamnum, and as diophantus formerly regulated it at athens. from these particulars any one may nearly judge whether phaleas's community is well or ill established. chapter viii hippodamus, the son of euruphon a milesian, contrived the art of laying out towns, and separated the pireus. this man was in other respects too eager after notice, and seemed to many to live in a very affected manner, with his flowing locks and his expensive ornaments, and a coarse warm vest which he wore, not only in the winter, but also in the hot weather. as he was very desirous of the character of a universal scholar, he was the first who, not being actually engaged in the management of public affairs, sat himself to inquire what sort of government was best; and he planned a state, consisting of ten thousand persons, divided into three parts, one consisting of artisans, another of husbandmen, and the third of soldiers; he also divided the lands into three parts, and allotted one to sacred purposes, another to the public, and the third to individuals. the first of these was to supply what was necessary for the established worship of the gods; the second was to be allotted to the support of the soldiery; and the third was to be the property of the husbandman. he thought also that there need only be three sorts of laws, corresponding to the three sorts of actions which can be brought, namely, for assault, trespasses, or death. he ordered also that there should be a particular court of appeal, into which all causes might be removed which were supposed to have been unjustly determined elsewhere; which court should be composed of old men chosen for that purpose. he thought also [ a] that they should not pass sentence by votes; but that every one should bring with him a tablet, on which he should write, that he found the party guilty, if it was so, but if not, he should bring a plain tablet; but if he acquitted him of one part of the indictment but not of the other, he should express that also on the tablet; for he disapproved of that general custom already established, as it obliges the judges to be guilty of perjury if they determined positively either on the one side or the other. he also made a law, that those should be rewarded who found out anything for the good of the city, and that the children of those who fell in battle should be educated at the public expense; which law had never been proposed by any other legislator, though it is at present in use at athens as well as in other cities, he would have the magistrates chosen out of the people in general, by whom he meant the three parts before spoken of; and that those who were so elected should be the particular guardians of what belonged to the public, to strangers, and to orphans. these are the principal parts and most worthy of notice in hippodamus's plan. but some persons might doubt the propriety of his division of the citizens into three parts; for the artisans, the husbandmen, and the soldiers are to compose one community, where the husbandmen are to have no arms, and the artisans neither arms nor land, which would in a manner render them slaves to the soldiery. it is also impossible that the whole community should partake of all the honourable employments in it--for the generals and the guardians of the state must necessarily be appointed out of the soldiery, and indeed the most honourable magistrates; but as the two other parts will not have their share in the government, how can they be expected to have any affection for it? but it is necessary that the soldiery should be superior to the other two parts, and this superiority will not be easily gained without they are very numerous; and if they are so, why should the community consist of any other members? why should any others have a right to elect the magistrates? besides, of what use are the husbandmen to this community? artisans, 'tis true, are necessary, for these every city wants, and they can live upon their business. if the husbandmen indeed furnished the soldiers with provisions, they would be properly part of the community; but these are supposed to have their private property, and to cultivate it for their own use. moreover, if the soldiers themselves are to cultivate that common land which is appropriated for their support, there will be no distinction between the soldier and the husbandman, which the legislator intended there should be; and if there should be any others who are to cultivate the private property of the husbandman and the common lands of the military, there will be a fourth order in the state which will have no share in it, and always entertain hostile sentiments towards it. if any one should propose that the same persons should cultivate their own lands and the public ones also, then there would be a deficiency [ b] of provisions to supply two families, as the lands would not immediately yield enough for themselves and the soldiers also; and all these things would occasion great confusion. nor do i approve of his method of determining causes, when he would have the judge split the case which comes simply before him; and thus, instead of being a judge, become an arbitrator. now when any matter is brought to arbitration, it is customary for many persons to confer together upon the business that is before them; but when a cause is brought before judges it is not so; and many legislators take care that the judges shall not have it in their power to communicate their sentiments to each other. besides, what can prevent confusion on the bench when one judge thinks a fine should be different from what another has set it at; one proposing twenty minae, another ten, or be it more or less, another four, and another five; and it is evident, that in this manner they will differ from each other, while some will give the whole damages sued for, and others nothing; in this situation, how shall their determinations be settled? besides, a judge cannot be obliged to perjure himself who simply acquits or condemns, if the action is fairly and justly brought; for he who acquits the party does not say that he ought not to pay any fine at all, but that he ought not to pay a fine of twenty minae. but he that condemns him is guilty of perjury if he sentences him to pay twenty minae while he believes the damages ought not to be so much. now with respect to these honours which he proposes to bestow on those who can give any information useful to the community, this, though very pleasing in speculation, is what the legislator should not settle, for it would encourage informers, and probably occasion commotions in the state. and this proposal of his gives rise also to further conjectures and inquiries; for some persons have doubted whether it is useful or hurtful to alter the established law of any country, if even for the better; for which reason one cannot immediately determine upon what he here says, whether it is advantageous to alter the law or not. we know, indeed, that it is possible to propose to new model both the laws and government as a common good; and since we have mentioned this subject, it may be very proper to enter into a few particulars concerning it, for it contains some difficulties, as i have already said, and it may appear better to alter them, since it has been found useful in other sciences. thus the science of physic is extended beyond its ancient bounds; so is the gymnastic, and indeed all other arts and powers; so that one may lay it down for certain that the same thing will necessarily hold good in the art of government. and it may also be affirmed, that experience itself gives a proof of this; for the ancient laws are too simple and barbarous; which allowed the greeks to wear swords in the city, and to buy their wives of each [ a]. other. and indeed all the remains of old laws which we have are very simple; for instance, a law in cuma relative to murder. if any person who prosecutes another for murder can produce a certain number of witnesses to it of his own relations, the accused person shall be held guilty. upon the whole, all persons ought to endeavour to follow what is right, and not what is established; and it is probable that the first men, whether they sprung out of the earth, or were saved from some general calamity, had very little understanding or knowledge, as is affirmed of these aborigines; so that it would be absurd to continue in the practice of their rules. nor is it, moreover, right to permit written laws always to remain without alteration; for as in all other sciences, so in politics, it is impossible to express everything in writing with perfect exactness; for when we commit anything to writing we must use general terms, but in every action there is something particular to itself, which these may not comprehend; from whence it is evident, that certain laws will at certain times admit of alterations. but if we consider this matter in another point of view, it will appear to require great caution; for when the advantage proposed is trifling, as the accustoming the people easily to abolish their laws is of bad consequence, it is evidently better to pass over some faults which either the legislator or the magistrates may have committed; for the alterations will not be of so much service as a habit of disobeying the magistrates will be of disservice. besides, the instance brought from the arts is fallacious; for it is not the same thing to alter the one as the other. for a law derives all its strength from custom, and this requires long time to establish; so that, to make it an easy matter to pass from the established laws to other new ones, is to weaken the power of laws. besides, here is another question; if the laws are to be altered, are they all to be altered, and in every government or not, and whether at the pleasure of one person or many? all which particulars will make a great difference; for which reason we will at present drop the inquiry, to pursue it at some other time. chapter ix there are two considerations which offer themselves with respect to the government established at lacedaemon and crete, and indeed in almost all other states whatsoever; one is whether their laws do or do not promote the best establishment possible? the other is whether there is anything, if we consider either the principles upon which it is founded or the executive part of it, which prevents the form of government that they had proposed to follow from being observed; now it is allowed that in every well-regulated state the members of it should be free from servile labour; but in what manner this shall be effected is not so easy to determine; for the penestse have very often attacked the thessalians, and the helots the lacedaemonians, for they in a manner continually watch an opportunity for some misfortune befalling them. but no such thing has ever happened to the cretans; the [ b] reason for which probably is, that although they are engaged in frequent wars with the neighbouring cities, yet none of these would enter into an alliance with the revolters, as it would be disadvantageous for them, who themselves also have their villains. but now there is perpetual enmity between the lacedaemonians and all their neighbours, the argives, the messenians, and the arcadians. their slaves also first revolted from the thessalians while they were engaged in wars with their neighbours the acheans, the perrabeans, and the magnesians. it seems to me indeed, if nothing else, yet something very troublesome to keep upon proper terms with them; for if you are remiss in your discipline they grow insolent, and think themselves upon an equality with their masters; and if they are hardly used they are continually plotting against you and hate you. it is evident, then, that those who employ slaves have not as yet hit upon the right way of managing them. as to the indulging of women in any particular liberties, it is hurtful to the end of government and the prosperity of the city; for as a man and his wife are the two parts of a family, if we suppose a city to be divided into two parts, we must allow that the number of men and women will be equal. in whatever city then the women are not under good regulations, we must look upon one half of it as not under the restraint of law, as it there happened; for the legislator, desiring to make his whole city a collection of warriors with respect to the men, he most evidently accomplished his design; but in the meantime the women were quite neglected, for they live without restraint in every improper indulgence and luxury. so that in such a state riches will necessarily be in general esteem, particularly if the men are governed by their wives, which has been the case with many a brave and warlike people except the celts, and those other nations, if there are any such, who openly practise pederasty. and the first mythologists seem not improperly to have joined mars and venus together; for all nations of this character are greatly addicted either to the love of women or of boys, for which reason it was thus at lacedaemon; and many things in their state were done by the authority of the women. for what is the difference, if the power is in the hands of the women, or in the hands of those whom they themselves govern? it must turn to the same account. as this boldness of the women can be of no use in any common occurrences, if it was ever so, it must be in war; but even here we find that the lacedaemonian women were of the greatest disservice, as was proved at the time of the theban invasion, when they were of no use at all, as they are in other cities, but made more disturbance than even the enemy. the origin of this indulgence which the lacedaemonian women enjoy is easily accounted for, from the long time the men were absent from home upon foreign expeditions [ a] against the argives, and afterwards the arcadians and messenians, so that, when these wars were at an end, their military life, in which there is no little virtue, prepared them to obey the precepts of their law-giver; but we are told, that when lycurgus endeavoured also to reduce the women to an obedience to his laws, upon their refusal he declined it. it may indeed be said that the women were the causes of these things, and of course all the fault was theirs. but we are not now considering where the fault lies, or where it does not lie, but what is right and what is wrong; and when the manners of the women are not well regulated, as i have already said, it must not only occasion faults which are disgraceful to the state, but also increase the love of money. in the next place, fault may be found with his unequal division of property, for some will have far too much, others too little; by which means the land will come into few hands, which business is badly regulated by his laws. for he made it infamous for any one either to buy or sell their possessions, in which he did right; but he permitted any one that chose it to give them away, or bequeath them, although nearly the same consequences will arise from one practice as from the other. it is supposed that near two parts in five of the whole country is the property of women, owing to their being so often sole heirs, and having such large fortunes in marriage; though it would be better to allow them none, or a little, or a certain regulated proportion. now every one is permitted to make a woman his heir if he pleases; and if he dies intestate, he who succeeds as heir at law gives it to whom he pleases. from whence it happens that although the country is able to support fifteen hundred horse and thirty thousand foot, the number does not amount to one thousand. and from these facts it is evident, that this particular is badly regulated; for the city could not support one shock, but was ruined for want of men. they say, that during the reigns of their ancient kings they used to present foreigners with the freedom of their city, to prevent there being a want of men while they carried on long wars; it is also affirmed that the number of spartans was formerly ten thousand; but be that as it will, an equality of property conduces much to increase the number of the people. the law, too, which he made to encourage population was by no means calculated to correct this inequality; for being willing that the spartans should be as numerous as [ b] possible, to make them desirous of having large families he ordered that he who had three children should be excused the night-watch, and that he who had four should pay no taxes: though it is very evident, that while the land was divided in this manner, that if the people increased there must many of them be very poor. nor was he less blamable for the manner in which he constituted the ephori; for these magistrates take cognisance of things of the last importance, and yet they are chosen out of the people in general; so that it often happens that a very poor person is elected to that office, who, from that circumstance, is easily bought. there have been many instances of this formerly, as well as in the late affair at andros. and these men, being corrupted with money, went as far as they could to ruin the city: and, because their power was too great and nearly tyrannical, their kings were obliged to natter them, which contributed greatly to hurt the state; so that it altered from an aristocracy to a democracy. this magistracy is indeed the great support of the state; for the people are easy, knowing that they are eligible to the first office in it; so that, whether it took place by the intention of the legislator, or whether it happened by chance, this is of great service to their affairs; for it is necessary that every member of the state should endeavour that each part of the government should be preserved, and continue the same. and upon this principle their kings have always acted, out of regard to their honour; the wise and good from their attachment to the senate, a seat wherein they consider as the reward of virtue; and the common people, that they may support the ephori, of whom they consist. and it is proper that these magistrates should be chosen out of the whole community, not as the custom is at present, which is very ridiculous. the ephori are the supreme judges in causes of the last consequence; but as it is quite accidental what sort of persons they may be, it is not right that they should determine according to their own opinion, but by a written law or established custom. their way of life also is not consistent with the manners of the city, for it is too indulgent; whereas that of others is too severe; so that they cannot support it, but are obliged privately to act contrary to law, that they may enjoy some of the pleasures of sense. there are also great defects in the institution of their senators. if indeed they were fitly trained to the practice of every human virtue, every one would readily admit that they would be useful to the government; but still it might be debated whether they should be continued judges for life, to determine points of the greatest moment, since the mind has its old age as well as the body; but as they are so brought up, [ a] that even the legislator could not depend upon them as good men, their power must be inconsistent with the safety of the state: for it is known that the members of that body have been guilty both of bribery and partiality in many public affairs; for which reason it had been much better if they had been made answerable for their conduct, which they are not. but it may be said the ephori seem to have a check upon all the magistrates. they have indeed in this particular very great power; but i affirm that they should not be entrusted with this control in the manner they are. moreover, the mode of choice which they make use of at the election of their senators is very childish. nor is it right for any one to solicit for a place he is desirous of; for every person, whether he chooses it or not, ought to execute any office he is fit for. but his intention was evidently the same in this as in the other parts of his government. for making his citizens ambitious after honours, with men of that disposition he has filled his senate, since no others will solicit for that office; and yet the principal part of those crimes which men are deliberately guilty of arise from ambition and avarice. we will inquire at another time whether the office of a king is useful to the state: thus much is certain, that they should be chosen from a consideration of their conduct and not as they are now. but that the legislator himself did not expect to make all his citizens honourable and completely virtuous is evident from this, that he distrusts them as not being good men; for he sent those upon the same embassy that were at variance with each other; and thought, that in the dispute of the kings the safety of the state consisted. neither were their common meals at first well established: for these should rather have been provided at the public expense, as at crete, where, as at lacedaemon, every one was obliged to buy his portion, although he might be very poor, and could by no means bear the expense, by which means the contrary happened to what the legislator desired: for he intended that those public meals should strengthen the democratic part of his government: but this regulation had quite the contrary effect, for those who were very poor could not take part in them; and it was an observation of their forefathers, that the not allowing those who could not contribute their proportion to the common tables to partake of them, would be the ruin of the state. other persons have censured his laws concerning naval affairs, and not without reason, as it gave rise to disputes. for the commander of the fleet is in a manner set up in opposition to the kings, who are generals of the army for life. [ b] there is also another defect in his laws worthy of censure, which plato has given in his book of laws; that the whole constitution was calculated only for the business of war: it is indeed excellent to make them conquerors; for which reason the preservation of the state depended thereon. the destruction of it commenced with their victories: for they knew not how to be idle, or engage in any other employment than war. in this particular also they were mistaken, that though they rightly thought, that those things which are the objects of contention amongst mankind are better procured by virtue than vice, yet they wrongfully preferred the things themselves to virtue. nor was the public revenue well managed at sparta, for the state was worth nothing while they were obliged to carry on the most extensive wars, and the subsidies were very badly raised; for as the spartans possessed a large extent of country, they were not exact upon each other as to what they paid in. and thus an event contrary to the legislator's intention took place; for the state was poor, the individuals avaricious. enough of the lacedaemonian government; for these seem the chief defects in it. chapter x the government of crete bears a near resemblance to this, in some few particulars it is not worse, but in general it is far inferior in its contrivance. for it appears and is allowed in many particulars the constitution of lacedaemon was formed in imitation of that of crete; and in general most new things are an improvement upon the old. for they say, that when lycurgus ceased to be guardian to king charilles he went abroad and spent a long time with his relations in crete, for the lycians are a colony of the lacedaemonians; and those who first settled there adopted that body of laws which they found already established by the inhabitants; in like manner also those who now live near them have the very laws which minos first drew up. this island seems formed by nature to be the mistress of greece, for it is entirely surrounded by a navigable ocean which washes almost all the maritime parts of that country, and is not far distant on the one side from peloponnesus, on the other, which looks towards asia, from triopium and rhodes. by means of this situation minos acquired the empire of the sea and the islands; some of which he subdued, in others planted colonies: at last he died at camicus while he was attacking sicily. there is this analogy between the customs of the lacedaemonians and the cretans, the helots cultivate the grounds [ a] for the one, the domestic slaves for the other. both states have their common meals, and the lacedaemonians called these formerly not _psiditia_ but _andpia_, as the cretans do; which proves from whence the custom arose. in this particular their governments are also alike: the ephori have the same power with those of crete, who are called _kosmoi_; with this difference only, that the number of the one is five, of the other ten. the senators are the same as those whom the cretans call the council. there was formerly also a kingly power in crete; but it was afterwards dissolved, and the command of their armies was given to the _kosmoi_. every one also has a vote in their public assembly; but this has only the power of confirming what has already passed the council and the _kosmoi_. the cretans conducted their public meals better than the lacedaemonians, for at lacedaemon each individual was obliged to furnish what was assessed upon him; which if he could not do, there was a law which deprived him of the rights of a citizen, as has been already mentioned: but in crete they were furnished by the community; for all the corn and cattle, taxes and contributions, which the domestic slaves were obliged to furnish, were divided into parts and allotted to the gods, the exigencies of the state, and these public meals; so that all the men, women, and children were maintained from a common stock. the legislator gave great attention to encourage a habit of eating sparingly, as very useful to the citizens. he also endeavoured, that his community might not be too populous, to lessen the connection with women, by introducing the love of boys: whether in this he did well or ill we shall have some other opportunity of considering. but that the public meals were better ordered at crete than at lacedaemon is very evident. the institution of the _kosmoi_, was still worse than that of the ephori: for it contained all the faults incident to that magistracy and some peculiar to itself; for in both cases it is uncertain who will be elected: but the lacedaemonians have this advantage which the others have not, that as all are eligible, the whole community have a share in the highest honours, and therefore all desire to preserve the state: whereas among the cretans the _kosmoi_ are not chosen out of the people in general, but out of some certain families, and the senate out of the _kosmoi_. and the same observations which may be made on the senate at lacedaemon may be applied to these; for their being under no control, and their continuing for life, is an honour greater than they merit; and to have their proceedings not regulated by a written law, but left to their own discretion, is dangerous. (as to there being no insurrections, although the people share not in the management of public affairs, this is no proof of a well-constituted government, as the _kosmoi_ have no opportunity of being bribed like the ephori, as they live in an [ b] island far from those who would corrupt them.) but the method they take to correct that fault is absurd, impolitic, and tyrannical: for very often either their fellow-magistrates or some private persons conspire together and turn out the _kosmoi_. they are also permitted to resign their office before their time is elapsed, and if all this was done by law it would be well, and not at the pleasure of the individuals, which is a bad rule to follow. but what is worst of all is, that general confusion which those who are in power introduce to impede the ordinary course of justice; which sufficiently shows what is the nature of the government, or rather lawless force: for it is usual with the principal persons amongst them to collect together some of the common people and their friends, and then revolt and set up for themselves, and come to blows with each other. and what is the difference, if a state is dissolved at once by such violent means, or if it gradually so alters in process of time as to be no longer the same constitution? a state like this would ever be exposed to the invasions of those who were powerful and inclined to attack it; but, as has been already mentioned, its situation preserves it, as it is free from the inroads of foreigners; and for this reason the family slaves still remain quiet at crete, while the helots are perpetually revolting: for the cretans take no part in foreign affairs, and it is but lately that any foreign troops have made an attack upon the island; and their ravages soon proved the ineffectualness of their laws. and thus much for the government of crete. chapter xi the government of carthage seems well established, and in many respects superior to others; in some particulars it bears a near resemblance to the lacedaemonians; and indeed these three states, the cretans, the lacedaemonians and the carthaginians are in some things very like each other, in others they differ greatly. amongst many excellent constitutions this may show how well their government is framed, that although the people are admitted to a share in the administration, the form of it remains unaltered, without any popular insurrections, worth notice, on the one hand, or degenerating into a tyranny on the other. now the carthaginians have these things in common with the lacedaemonians: public tables for those who are connected together by the tie of mutual friendship, after the manner of their phiditia; they have also a magistracy, consisting of an hundred and four persons, similar to the ephori, or rather selected with more judgment; for amongst the lacedaemonians, all the citizens are eligible, but amongst the carthaginians, they are chosen out of those of the better sort: there is also some analogy between the king and the senate in both these governments, though the carthaginian method of appointing their kings is best, for they do not confine themselves to one family; nor do they permit the election to be at large, nor have they any regard to seniority; for if amongst the candidates there are any of greater merit than the rest, these they prefer to those who may be older; for as their power is very extensive, if they are [ a] persons of no account, they may be very hurtful to the state, as they have always been to the lacedaemonians; also the greater part of those things which become reprehensible by their excess are common to all those governments which we have described. now of those principles on which the carthaginians have established their mixed form of government, composed of an aristocracy and democracy, some incline to produce a democracy, others an oligarchy: for instance, if the kings and the senate are unanimous upon any point in debate, they can choose whether they will bring it before the people or no; but if they disagree, it is to these they must appeal, who are not only to hear what has been approved of by the senate, but are finally to determine upon it; and whosoever chooses it, has a right to speak against any matter whatsoever that may be proposed, which is not permitted in other cases. the five, who elect each other, have very great and extensive powers; and these choose the hundred, who are magistrates of the highest rank: their power also continues longer than any other magistrates, for it commences before they come into office, and is prolonged after they are out of it; and in this particular the state inclines to an oligarchy: but as they are not elected by lot, but by suffrage, and are not permitted to take money, they are the greatest supporters imaginable of an aristocracy. the determining all causes by the same magistrates, and not orae in one court and another in another, as at lacedaemon, has the same influence. the constitution of carthage is now shifting from an aristocracy to an oligarchy, in consequence of an opinion which is favourably entertained by many, who think that the magistrates in the community ought not to be persons of family only, but of fortune also; as it is impossible for those who are in bad circumstances to support the dignity of their office, or to be at leisure to apply to public business. as choosing men of fortune to be magistrates make a state incline to an oligarchy, and men of abilities to an aristocracy, so is there a third method of proceeding which took place in the polity of carthage; for they have an eye to these two particulars when they elect their officers, particularly those of the highest rank, their kings and their generals. it must be admitted, that it was a great fault in their legislator not to guard against the constitution's degenerating from an aristocracy; for this is a most necessary thing to provide for at first, that those citizens who have the best abilities should never be obliged to do anything unworthy their character, but be always at leisure to serve the public, not only when in office, but also when private persons; for if once you are obliged to look among the wealthy, that you may have men at leisure to serve you, your greatest offices, of king and general, will soon become venal; in consequence of which, riches will be more honourable than virtue and a love of money be the ruling principle in the city-for what those who have the chief power regard as honourable will necessarily be the object which the [ b] citizens in general will aim at; and where the first honours are not paid to virtue, there the aristocratic form of government cannot flourish: for it is reasonable to conclude, that those who bought their places should generally make an advantage of what they laid out their money for; as it is absurd to suppose, that if a man of probity who is poor should be desirous of gaining something, a bad man should not endeavour to do the same, especially to reimburse himself; for which reason the magistracy should be formed of those who are most able to support an aristocracy. it would have been better for the legislature to have passed over the poverty of men of merit, and only to have taken care to have ensured them sufficient leisure, when in office, to attend to public affairs. it seems also improper, that one person should execute several offices, which was approved of at carthage; for one business is best done by one person; and it is the duty of the legislator to look to this, and not make the same person a musician and a shoemaker: so that where the state is not small it is more politic and more popular to admit many persons to have a share in the government; for, as i just now said, it is not only more usual, but everything is better and sooner done, when one thing only is allotted to one person: and this is evident both in the army and navy, where almost every one, in his turn, both commands and is under command. but as their government inclines to an oligarchy, they avoid the ill effects of it by always appointing some of the popular party to the government of cities to make their fortunes. thus they consult this fault in their constitution and render it stable; but this is depending on chance; whereas the legislator ought to frame his government, that there the no room for insurrections. but now, if there should be any general calamity, and the people should revolt from their rulers, there is no remedy for reducing them to obedience by the laws. and these are the particulars of the lacedaemonian, the cretan, and the carthaginian governments which seem worthy of commendation. chapter xii some of those persons who have written upon government had never any share in public affairs, but always led a private life. everything worthy of notice in their works we have already spoke to. others were legislators, some in their own cities, others were employed in regulating the governments of foreign states. some of them only composed a body of laws; others formed the constitution also, as lycurgus; and solon, who did both. the lacedaemonians have been already mentioned. some persons think that solon was an excellent legislator, who could dissolve a pure oligarchy, and save the people from that slavery which hung over them, and establish the ancient democratic form of government in his country; wherein every part of it was so framed as to be well adapted to the whole. in the senate of areopagus an oligarchy was preserved; by the manner of electing their [ a] magistrates, an aristocracy; and in their courts of justice, a democracy. solon seems not to have altered the established form of government, either with respect to the senate or the mode of electing their magistrates; but to have raised the people to great consideration in the state by allotting the supreme judicial department to them; and for this some persons blame him, as having done what would soon overturn that balance of power he intended to establish; for by trying all causes whatsoever before the people, who were chosen by lot to determine them, it was necessary to flatter a tyrannical populace who had got this power; which contributed to bring the government to that pure democracy it now is. both ephialtes and pericles abridged the power of the areopagites, the latter of whom introduced the method of paying those who attended the courts of justice: and thus every one who aimed at being popular proceeded increasing the power of the people to what we now see it. but it is evident that this was not solon's intention, but that it arose from accident; for the people being the cause of the naval victory over the medes, assumed greatly upon it, and enlisted themselves under factious demagogues, although opposed by the better part of the citizens. he thought it indeed most necessary to entrust the people with the choice of their magistrates and the power of calling them to account; for without that they must have been slaves and enemies to the other citizens: but he ordered them to elect those only who were persons of good account and property, either out of those who were worth five hundred medimns, or those who were called xeugitai, or those of the third census, who were called horsemen. as for those of the fourth, which consisted of mechanics, they were incapable of any office. zaleucus was the legislator of the western locrians, as was charondas, the catanean, of his own cities, and those also in italy and sicily which belonged to the calcidians. some persons endeavour to prove that onomacritus, the locrian, was the first person of note who drew up laws; and that he employed himself in that business while he was at crete, where he continued some time to learn the prophetic art: and they say, that thales was his companion; and that lycurgus and zaleucus were the scholars of thales, and charondas of zaleucus; but those who advance this, advance what is repugnant to chronology. philolaus also, of the family of the bacchiades, was a theban legislator. this man was very fond of diocles, a victor in the olympic games, and when he left his country from a disgust at an improper passion which his mother alithoe had entertained for him, and settled at thebes, philolaus followed him, where they both died, and where they still show their tombs placed in view of each other, but so disposed, that one of them looks towards corinth, the other does not; the reason they give for this is, that diodes, from his detestation of his mother's passion, would have his tomb so placed that no one could see corinth from it; but philolaus chose that it might be seen from his: and this was the cause of their living at thebes. [ b] as philolaus gave them laws concerning many other things, so did he upon adoption, which they call adoptive laws; and this he in particular did to preserve the number of families. charondas did nothing new, except in actions for perjury, which he was the first person who took into particular consideration. he also drew up his laws with greater elegance and accuracy than even any of our present legislators. philolaus introduced the law for the equal distribution of goods; plato that for the community of women, children, and goods, and also for public tables for the women; and one concerning drunkenness, that they might observe sobriety in their symposiums. he also made a law concerning their warlike exercises; that they should acquire a habit of using both hands alike, as it was necessary that one hand should be as useful as the other. as for draco's laws, they were published when the government was already established, and they have nothing particular in them worth mentioning, except their severity on account of the enormity of their punishments. pittacus was the author of some laws, but never drew up any form of government; one of which was this, that if a drunken man beat any person he should be punished more than if he did it when sober; for as people are more apt to be abusive when drunk than sober, he paid no consideration to the excuse which drunkenness might claim, but regarded only the common benefit. andromadas regmus was also a lawgiver to the thracian talcidians. there are some laws of his concerning murders and heiresses extant, but these contain nothing that any one can say is new and his own. and thus much for different sorts of governments, as well those which really exist as those which different persons have proposed. book iii chapter i every one who inquires into the nature of government, and what are its different forms, should make this almost his first question, what is a city? for upon this there is a dispute: for some persons say the city did this or that, while others say, not the city, but the oligarchy, or the tyranny. we see that the city is the only object which both the politician and legislator have in view in all they do: but government is a certain ordering of those who inhabit a city. as a city is a collective body, and, like other wholes, composed of many parts, it is evident our first inquiry must be, what a citizen is: for a city is a certain number of citizens. so that we must consider whom we ought to call citizen, and who is one; for this is often doubtful: for every one will not allow that this character is applicable to the same person; for that man who would be a citizen in a republic would very often not be one in an oligarchy. we do not include in this inquiry many of those who acquire this appellation out of the ordinary way, as honorary persons, for instance, but those only who have a natural right to it. now it is not residence which constitutes a man a citizen; for in this sojourners and slaves are upon an equality with him; nor will it be sufficient for this purpose, that you have the privilege of the laws, and may plead or be impleaded, for this all those of different nations, between whom there is a mutual agreement for that purpose, are allowed; although it very often happens, that sojourners have not a perfect right therein without the protection of a patron, to whom they are obliged to apply, which shows that their share in the community is incomplete. in like manner, with respect to boys who are not yet enrolled, or old men who are past war, we admit that they are in some respects citizens, but not completely so, but with some exceptions, for these are not yet arrived to years of maturity, and those are past service; nor is there any difference between them. but what we mean is sufficiently intelligible and clear, we want a complete citizen, one in whom there is no deficiency to be corrected to make him so. as to those who are banished, or infamous, there may be the same objections made and the same answer given. there is nothing that more characterises a complete citizen than having a share in the judicial and executive part of the government. with respect to offices, some are fixed to a particular time, so that no person is, on any account, permitted to fill them twice; or else not till some certain period has intervened; others are not fixed, as a juryman's, and a member of the general assembly: but probably some one may say these are not offices, nor have the citizens in these capacities any share in the government; though surely it is ridiculous to say that those who have the principal power in the state bear no office in it. but this objection is of no weight, for it is only a dispute about words; as there is no general term which can be applied both to the office of a juryman and a member of the assembly. for the sake of distinction, suppose we call it an indeterminate office: but i lay it down as a maxim, that those are citizens who could exercise it. such then is the description of a citizen who comes nearest to what all those who are called citizens are. every one also should know, that of the component parts of those things which differ from each other in species, after the first or second remove, those which follow have either nothing at all or very little common to each. now we see that governments differ from each other in their form, and that some of them are defective, others [ b] as excellent as possible: for it is evident, that those which have many deficiencies and degeneracies in them must be far inferior to those which are without such faults. what i mean by degeneracies will be hereafter explained. hence it is clear that the office of a citizen must differ as governments do from each other: for which reason he who is called a citizen has, in a democracy, every privilege which that station supposes. in other forms of government he may enjoy them; but not necessarily: for in some states the people have no power; nor have they any general assembly, but a few select men. the trial also of different causes is allotted to different persons; as at lacedaemon all disputes concerning contracts are brought before some of the ephori: the senate are the judges in cases of murder, and so on; some being to be heard by one magistrate, others by another: and thus at carthage certain magistrates determine all causes. but our former description of a citizen will admit of correction; for in some governments the office of a juryman and a member of the general assembly is not an indeterminate one; but there are particular persons appointed for these purposes, some or all of the citizens being appointed jurymen or members of the general assembly, and this either for all causes and all public business whatsoever, or else for some particular one: and this may be sufficient to show what a citizen is; for he who has a right to a share in the judicial and executive part of government in any city, him we call a citizen of that place; and a city, in one word, is a collective body of such persons sufficient in themselves to all the purposes of life. chapter ii in common use they define a citizen to be one who is sprung from citizens on both sides, not on the father's or the mother's only. others carry the matter still further, and inquire how many of his ancestors have been citizens, as his grandfather, great-grandfather, etc., but some persons have questioned how the first of the family could prove themselves citizens, according to this popular and careless definition. gorgias of leontium, partly entertaining the same doubt, and partly in jest, says, that as a mortar is made by a mortar-maker, so a citizen is made by a citizen-maker, and a larisssean by a larisssean-maker. this is indeed a very simple account of the matter; for if citizens are so, according to this definition, it will be impossible to apply it to the first founders or first inhabitants of states, who cannot possibly claim in right either of their father or mother. it is probably a matter of still more difficulty to determine their rights as citizens who are admitted to their freedom after any revolution in the state. as, for instance, at athens, after the expulsion of the tyrants, when clisthenes enrolled many foreigners and city-slaves amongst the tribes; and the doubt with respect to them was, not whether they were citizens or no, but whether they were legally so or not. though indeed some persons may have this further [ a] doubt, whether a citizen can be a citizen when he is illegally made; as if an illegal citizen, and one who is no citizen at all, were in the same predicament: but since we see some persons govern unjustly, whom yet we admit to govern, though not justly, and the definition of a citizen is one who exercises certain offices, for such a one we have defined a citizen to be, it is evident, that a citizen illegally created yet continues to be a citizen, but whether justly or unjustly so belongs to the former inquiry. chapter iii it has also been doubted what was and what was not the act of the city; as, for instance, when a democracy arises out of an aristocracy or a tyranny; for some persons then refuse to fulfil their contracts; as if the right to receive the money was in the tyrant and not in the state, and many other things of the same nature; as if any covenant was founded for violence and not for the common good. so in like manner, if anything is done by those who have the management of public affairs where a democracy is established, their actions are to be considered as the actions of the state, as well as in the oligarchy or tyranny. and here it seems very proper to consider this question, when shall we say that a city is the same, and when shall we say that it is different? it is but a superficial mode of examining into this question to begin with the place and the people; for it may happen that these may be divided from that, or that some one of them may live in one place, and some in another (but this question may be regarded as no very knotty one; for, as a city may acquire that appellation on many accounts, it may be solved many ways); and in like manner, when men inhabit one common place, when shall we say that they inhabit the same city, or that the city is the same? for it does not depend upon the walls; for i can suppose peloponnesus itself surrounded with a wall, as babylon was, and every other place, which rather encircles many nations than one city, and that they say was taken three days when some of the inhabitants knew nothing of it: but we shall find a proper time to determine this question; for the extent of a city, how large it should be, and whether it should consist of more than one people, these are particulars that the politician should by no means be unacquainted with. this, too, is a matter of inquiry, whether we shall say that a city is the same while it is inhabited by the same race of men, though some of them are perpetually dying, others coming into the world, as we say that a river or a fountain is the same, though the waters are continually changing; or when a revolution takes place shall we [ b] say the men are the same, but the city is different: for if a city is a community, it is a community of citizens; but if the mode of government should alter, and become of another sort, it would seem a necessary consequence that the city is not the same; as we regard the tragic chorus as different from the comic, though it may probably consist of the same performers: thus every other community or composition is said to be different if the species of composition is different; as in music the same hands produce different harmony, as the doric and phrygian. if this is true, it is evident, that when we speak of a city as being the same we refer to the government there established; and this, whether it is called by the same name or any other, or inhabited by the same men or different. but whether or no it is right to dissolve the community when the constitution is altered is another question. chapter iv what has been said, it follows that we should consider whether the same virtues which constitute a good man make a valuable citizen, or different; and if a particular inquiry is necessary for this matter we must first give a general description of the virtues of a good citizen; for as a sailor is one of those who make up a community, so is a citizen, although the province of one sailor may be different from another's (for one is a rower, another a steersman, a third a boatswain, and so on, each having their several appointments), it is evident that the most accurate description of any one good sailor must refer to his peculiar abilities, yet there are some things in which the same description may be applied to the whole crew, as the safety of the ship is the common business of all of them, for this is the general centre of all their cares: so also with respect to citizens, although they may in a few particulars be very different, yet there is one care common to them all, the safety of the community, for the community of the citizens composes the state; for which reason the virtue of a citizen has necessarily a reference to the state. but if there are different sorts of governments, it is evident that those actions which constitute the virtue of an excellent citizen in one community will not constitute it in another; wherefore the virtue of such a one cannot be perfect: but we say, a man is good when his virtues are perfect; from whence it follows, that an excellent citizen does not possess that virtue which constitutes a good man. those who are any ways doubtful concerning this question may be convinced of the truth of it by examining into the best formed states: for, if it is impossible that a city should consist entirely of excellent citizens (while it is necessary that every one should do well in his calling, in which consists his excellence, as it is impossible that all the citizens should have the same [ a] qualifications) it is impossible that the virtue of a citizen and a good man should be the same; for all should possess the virtue of an excellent citizen: for from hence necessarily arise the perfection of the city: but that every one should possess the virtue of a good man is impossible without all the citizens in a well-regulated state were necessarily virtuous. besides, as a city is composed of dissimilar parts, as an animal is of life and body; the soul of reason and appetite; a family of a man and his wife--property of a master and a slave; in the same manner, as a city is composed of all these and many other very different parts, it necessarily follows that the virtue of all the citizens cannot be the same; as the business of him who leads the band is different from the other dancers. from all which proofs it is evident that the virtues of a citizen cannot be one and the same. but do we never find those virtues united which constitute a good man and excellent citizen? for we say, such a one is an excellent magistrate and a prudent and good man; but prudence is a necessary qualification for all those who engage in public affairs. nay, some persons affirm that the education of those who are intended to command should, from the beginning, be different from other citizens, as the children of kings are generally instructed in riding and warlike exercises; and thus euripides says: "... no showy arts be mine, but teach me what the state requires." as if those who are to rule were to have an education peculiar to themselves. but if we allow, that the virtues of a good man and a good magistrate may be the same, and a citizen is one who obeys the magistrate, it follows that the virtue of the one cannot in general be the same as the virtue of the other, although it may be true of some particular citizen; for the virtue of the magistrate must be different from the virtue of the citizen. for which reason jason declared that was he deprived of his kingdom he should pine away with regret, as not knowing how to live a private man. but it is a great recommendation to know how to command as well as to obey; and to do both these things well is the virtue of an accomplished citizen. if then the virtue of a good man consists only in being able to command, but the virtue of a good citizen renders him equally fit for the one as well as the other, the commendation of both of them is not the same. it appears, then, that both he who commands and he who obeys should each of them learn their separate business: but that the citizen should be master of and take part in both these, as any one may easily perceive; in a family government there is no occasion for the master to know how to perform the necessary offices, but rather to enjoy the labour of others; for to do the other is a servile part. i mean by the other, the common family business of the slave. there are many sorts of slaves; for their employments are various: of these the handicraftsmen are one, who, as their name imports, get their living by the labour of their hands, and amongst these all mechanics are included; [ b] for which reasons such workmen, in some states, were not formerly admitted into any share in the government; till at length democracies were established: it is not therefore proper for any man of honour, or any citizen, or any one who engages in public affairs, to learn these servile employments without they have occasion for them for their own use; for without this was observed the distinction between a master and a slave would be lost. but there is a government of another sort, in which men govern those who are their equals in rank, and freemen, which we call a political government, in which men learn to command by first submitting to obey, as a good general of horse, or a commander-in-chief, must acquire a knowledge of their duty by having been long under the command of another, and the like in every appointment in the army: for well is it said, no one knows how to command who has not himself been under command of another. the virtues of those are indeed different, but a good citizen must necessarily be endowed with them; he ought also to know in what manner freemen ought to govern, as well as be governed: and this, too, is the duty of a good man. and if the temperance and justice of him who commands is different from his who, though a freeman, is under command, it is evident that the virtues of a good citizen cannot be the same as justice, for instance but must be of a different species in these two different situations, as the temperance and courage of a man and a woman are different from each other; for a man would appear a coward who had only that courage which would be graceful in a woman, and a woman would be thought a talker who should take as large a part in the conversation as would become a man of consequence. the domestic employments of each of them are also different; it is the man's business to acquire subsistence, the woman's to take care of it. but direction and knowledge of public affairs is a virtue peculiar to those who govern, while all others seem to be equally requisite for both parties; but with this the governed have no concern, it is theirs to entertain just notions: they indeed are like flute-makers, while those who govern are the musicians who play on them. and thus much to show whether the virtue of a good man and an excellent citizen is the same, or if it is different, and also how far it is the same, and how far different. chapter v but with respect to citizens there is a doubt remaining, whether those only are truly so who are allowed to share in the government, or whether the mechanics also are to be considered as such? for if those who are not permitted to rule are to be reckoned among them, it is impossible that the virtue of all the citizens should be the same, for these also are citizens; and if none of them are admitted to be citizens, where shall they be ranked? for they are neither [ a] sojourners nor foreigners? or shall we say that there will no inconvenience arise from their not being citizens, as they are neither slaves nor freedmen: for this is certainly true, that all those are not citizens who are necessary to the existence of a city, as boys are not citizens in the same manner that men are, for those are perfectly so, the others under some conditions; for they are citizens, though imperfect ones: for in former times among some people the mechanics were either slaves or foreigners, for which reason many of them are so now: and indeed the best regulated states will not permit a mechanic to be a citizen; but if it be allowed them, we cannot then attribute the virtue we have described to every citizen or freeman, but to those only who are disengaged from servile offices. now those who are employed by one person in them are slaves; those who do them for money are mechanics and hired servants: hence it is evident on the least reflection what is their situation, for what i have said is fully explained by appearances. since the number of communities is very great, it follows necessarily that there will be many different sorts of citizens, particularly of those who are governed by others, so that in one state it may be necessary to admit mechanics and hired servants to be citizens, but in others it may be impossible; as particularly in an aristocracy, where honours are bestowed on virtue and dignity: for it is impossible for one who lives the life of a mechanic or hired servant to acquire the practice of virtue. in an oligarchy also hired servants are not admitted to be citizens; because there a man's right to bear any office is regulated by his fortune; but mechanics are, for many citizens are very rich. there was a law at thebes that no one could have a share in the government till he had been ten years out of trade. in many states the law invites strangers to accept the freedom of the city; and in some democracies the son of a free-woman is himself free. the same is also observed in many others with respect to natural children; but it is through want of citizens regularly born that they admit such: for these laws are always made in consequence of a scarcity of inhabitants; so, as their numbers increase, they first deprive the children of a male or female slave of this privilege, next the child of a free-woman, and last of all they will admit none but those whose fathers and mothers were both free. that there are many sorts of citizens, and that he may be said to be as completely who shares the honours of the state, is evident from what has been already said. thus achilles, in homer, complains of agamemnon's treating him like an unhonoured stranger; for a stranger or sojourner is one who does not partake of the honours of the state: and whenever the right to the freedom of the city is kept obscure, it is for the sake of the inhabitants. [ b] from what has been said it is plain whether the virtue of a good man and an excellent citizen is the same or different: and we find that in some states it is the same, in others not; and also that this is not true of each citizen, but of those only who take the lead, or are capable of taking the lead, in public affairs, either alone or in conjunction with others. chapter vi having established these points, we proceed next to consider whether one form of government only should be established, or more than one; and if more, how many, and of what sort, and what are the differences between them. the form of government is the ordering and regulating of the city, and all the offices in it, particularly those wherein the supreme power is lodged; and this power is always possessed by the administration; but the administration itself is that particular form of government which is established in any state: thus in a democracy the supreme power is lodged in the whole people; on the contrary, in an oligarchy it is in the hands of a few. we say then, that the form of government in these states is different, and we shall find the same thing hold good in others. let us first determine for whose sake a city is established; and point out the different species of rule which man may submit to in social life. i have already mentioned in my treatise on the management of a family, and the power of the master, that man is an animal naturally formed for society, and that therefore, when he does not want any foreign assistance, he will of his own accord desire to live with others; not but that mutual advantage induces them to it, as far as it enables each person to live more agreeably; and this is indeed the great object not only to all in general, but also to each individual: but it is not merely matter of choice, but they join in society also, even that they may be able to live, which probably is not without some share of merit, and they also support civil society, even for the sake of preserving life, without they are grievously overwhelmed with the miseries of it: for it is very evident that men will endure many calamities for the sake of living, as being something naturally sweet and desirable. it is easy to point out the different modes of government, and we have already settled them in our exoteric discourses. the power of the master, though by nature equally serviceable, both to the master and to the slave, yet nevertheless has for its object the benefit of the master, while the benefit of the slave arises accidentally; for if the slave is destroyed, the power of the master is at an end: but the authority which a man has over his wife, and children, and his family, which we call domestic government, is either for the benefit of those who are under subjection, or else for the common benefit of the whole: but its particular object is the benefit of the governed, as we see in other arts; in physic, for instance, and the gymnastic exercises, wherein, if any benefit [ a] arise to the master, it is accidental; for nothing forbids the master of the exercises from sometimes being himself one of those who exercises, as the steersman is always one of the sailors; but both the master of the exercises and the steersman consider the good of those who are under their government. whatever good may happen to the steersman when he is a sailor, or to the master of the exercises when he himself makes one at the games, is not intentional, or the object of their power; thus in all political governments which are established to preserve and defend the equality of the citizens it is held right to rule by turns. formerly, as was natural, every one expected that each of his fellow-citizens should in his turn serve the public, and thus administer to his private good, as he himself when in office had done for others; but now every one is desirous of being continually in power, that he may enjoy the advantage which he makes of public business and being in office; as if places were a never-failing remedy for every complaint, and were on that account so eagerly sought after. it is evident, then, that all those governments which have a common good in view are rightly established and strictly just, but those who have in view only the good of the rulers are all founded on wrong principles, and are widely different from what a government ought to be, for they are tyranny over slaves, whereas a city is a community of freemen. chapter vii having established these particulars, we come to consider next the different number of governments which there are, and what they are; and first, what are their excellencies: for when we have determined this, their defects will be evident enough. it is evident that every form of government or administration, for the words are of the same import, must contain a supreme power over the whole state, and this supreme power must necessarily be in the hands of one person, or a few, or many; and when either of these apply their power for the common good, such states are well governed; but when the interest of the one, the few, or the many who enjoy this power is alone consulted, then ill; for you must either affirm that those who make up the community are not citizens, or else let these share in the advantages of government. we usually call a state which is governed by one person for the common good, a kingdom; one that is governed by more than one, but by a few only, an aristocracy; either because the government is in the hands of the most worthy citizens, or because it is the best form for the city and its inhabitants. when the citizens at large govern for the public good, it is called a state; which is also a common name for all other governments, and these distinctions are consonant to reason; for it will not be difficult to find one person, or a very few, of very distinguished abilities, but almost impossible to meet with the majority [ b] of a people eminent for every virtue; but if there is one common to a whole nation it is valour; for this is created and supported by numbers: for which reason in such a state the profession of arms will always have the greatest share in the government. now the corruptions attending each of these governments are these; a kingdom may degenerate into a tyranny, an aristocracy into an oligarchy, and a state into a democracy. now a tyranny is a monarchy where the good of one man only is the object of government, an oligarchy considers only the rich, and a democracy only the poor; but neither of them have a common good in view. chapter viii it will be necessary to enlarge a little more upon the nature of each of these states, which is not without some difficulty, for he who would enter into a philosophical inquiry into the principles of them, and not content himself with a superficial view of their outward conduct, must pass over and omit nothing, but explain the true spirit of each of them. a tyranny then is, as has been said, a monarchy, where one person has an absolute and despotic power over the whole community and every member therein: an oligarchy, where the supreme power of the state is lodged with the rich: a democracy, on the contrary, is where those have it who are worth little or nothing. but the first difficulty that arises from the distinctions which we have laid down is this, should it happen that the majority of the inhabitants who possess the power of the state (for this is a democracy) should be rich, the question is, how does this agree with what we have said? the same difficulty occurs, should it ever happen that the poor compose a smaller part of the people than the rich, but from their superior abilities acquire the supreme power; for this is what they call an oligarchy; it should seem then that our definition of the different states was not correct: nay, moreover, could any one suppose that the majority of the people were poor, and the minority rich, and then describe the state in this manner, that an oligarchy was a government in which the rich, being few in number, possessed the supreme power, and that a democracy was a state in which the poor, being many in number, possessed it, still there will be another difficulty; for what name shall we give to those states we have been describing? i mean, that in which the greater number are rich, and that in which the lesser number are poor (where each of these possess the supreme power), if there are no other states than those we have described. it seems therefore evident to reason, that whether the supreme power is vested in the hands of many or few may be a matter of accident; but that it is clear enough, that when it is in the hands of the few, it will be a government of the rich; when in the hands of the many, it will be a government of the poor; since in all countries there are many poor and few rich: it is not therefore the cause that has been already assigned (namely, the number of people in power) that makes the difference between the two governments; but an oligarchy and democracy differ in this from each other, in the poverty of those who govern in the one, and the riches i oa of those who govern in the other; for when the government is in the hands of the rich, be they few or be they more, it is an oligarchy; when it is in the hands of the poor, it is a democracy: but, as we have already said, the one will be always few, the other numerous, but both will enjoy liberty; and from the claims of wealth and liberty will arise continual disputes with each other for the lead in public affairs. chapter ix let us first determine what are the proper limits of an oligarchy and a democracy, and what is just in each of these states; for all men have some natural inclination to justice; but they proceed therein only to a certain degree; nor can they universally point out what is absolutely just; as, for instance, what is equal appears just, and is so; but not to all; only among those who are equals: and what is unequal appears just, and is so; but not to all, only amongst those who are unequals; which circumstance some people neglect, and therefore judge ill; the reason for which is, they judge for themselves, and every one almost is the worst judge in his own cause. since then justice has reference to persons, the same distinctions must be made with respect to persons which are made with respect to things, in the manner that i have already described in my ethics. as to the equality of the things, these they agree in; but their dispute is concerning the equality of the persons, and chiefly for the reason above assigned; because they judge ill in their own cause; and also because each party thinks, that if they admit what is right in some particulars, they have done justice on the whole: thus, for instance, if some persons are unequal in riches, they suppose them unequal in the whole; or, on the contrary, if they are equal in liberty, they suppose them equal in the whole: but what is absolutely just they omit; for if civil society was founded for the sake of preserving and increasing property, every one's right in the city would be equal to his fortune; and then the reasoning of those who insist upon an oligarchy would be valid; for it would not be right that he who contributed one mina should have an equal share in the hundred along with him who brought in all the rest, either of the original money or what was afterwards acquired. nor was civil society founded merely to preserve the lives of its members; but that they might live well: for otherwise a state might be composed of slaves, or the animal creation: but this is not so; for these have no share in the happiness of it; nor do they live after their own choice; nor is it an alliance mutually to defend each other from injuries, or for a commercial intercourse: for then the tyrrhenians and carthaginians, and all other nations between whom treaties of commerce subsist, would be citizens of one city; for they have articles to regulate their exports and imports, and engagements for mutual protection, and alliances for mutual defence; but [ b] yet they have not all the same magistrates established among them, but they are different among the different people; nor does the one take any care, that the morals of the other should be as they ought, or that none of those who have entered into the common agreements should be unjust, or in any degree vicious, only that they do not injure any member of the confederacy. but whosoever endeavours to establish wholesome laws in a state, attends to the virtues and the vices of each individual who composes it; from whence it is evident, that the first care of him who would found a city, truly deserving that name, and not nominally so, must be to have his citizens virtuous; for otherwise it is merely an alliance for self-defence; differing from those of the same cast which are made between different people only in place: for law is an agreement and a pledge, as the sophist lycophron says, between the citizens of their intending to do justice to each other, though not sufficient to make all the citizens just and good: and that this is fact is evident, for could any one bring different places together, as, for instance, enclose megara and corinth in a wall, yet they would not be one city, not even if the inhabitants intermarried with each other, though this inter-community contributes much to make a place one city. besides, could we suppose a set of people to live separate from each other, but within such a distance as would admit of an intercourse, and that there were laws subsisting between each party, to prevent their injuring one another in their mutual dealings, supposing one a carpenter, another a husbandman, shoemaker, and the like, and that their numbers were ten thousand, still all that they would have together in common would be a tariff for trade, or an alliance for mutual defence, but not the same city. and why? not because their mutual intercourse is not near enough, for even if persons so situated should come to one place, and every one should live in his own house as in his native city, and there should be alliances subsisting between each party to mutually assist and prevent any injury being done to the other, still they would not be admitted to be a city by those who think correctly, if they preserved the same customs when they were together as when they were separate. it is evident, then, that a city is not a community of place; nor established for the sake of mutual safety or traffic with each other; but that these things are the necessary consequences of a city, although they may all exist where there is no city: but a city is a society of people joining together with their families and their children to live agreeably for the sake of having their lives as happy and as independent as possible: and for this purpose it is necessary that they should live in one place and intermarry with each other: hence in all cities there are family-meetings, clubs, sacrifices, and public entertainments to promote friendship; for a love of sociability is friendship itself; so that the end then for which a city is established is, that the inhabitants of it may live happy, and these things are conducive to that end: for it is a community of families and villages for the sake of a perfect independent life; that is, as we have already said, for the sake of living well and happily. it is not therefore founded for the purpose of men's merely [ a] living together, but for their living as men ought; for which reason those who contribute most to this end deserve to have greater power in the city than those who are their equals in family and freedom, but their inferiors in civil virtue, or those who excel them in wealth but are below them in worth. it is evident from what has been said, that in all disputes upon government each party says something that is just. chapter x it may also be a doubt where the supreme power ought to be lodged. shall it be with the majority, or the wealthy, with a number of proper persons, or one better than the rest, or with a tyrant? but whichever of these we prefer some difficulty will arise. for what? shall the poor have it because they are the majority? they may then divide among themselves, what belongs to the rich: nor is this unjust; because truly it has been so judged by the supreme power. but what avails it to point out what is the height of injustice if this is not? again, if the many seize into their own hands everything which belongs to the few, it is evident that the city will be at an end. but virtue will never destroy what is virtuous; nor can what is right be the ruin of the state: therefore such a law can never be right, nor can the acts of a tyrant ever be wrong, for of necessity they must all be just; for he, from his unlimited power, compels every one to obey his command, as the multitude oppress the rich. is it right then that the rich, the few, should have the supreme power? and what if they be guilty of the same rapine and plunder the possessions of the majority, that will be as right as the other: but that all things of this sort are wrong and unjust is evident. well then, these of the better sort shall have it: but must not then all the other citizens live unhonoured, without sharing the offices of the city; for the offices of a city are its honours, and if one set of men are always in power, it is evident that the rest must be without honour. well then, let it be with one person of all others the fittest for it: but by this means the power will be still more contracted, and a greater number than before continue unhonoured. but some one may say, that it is wrong to let man have the supreme power and not the law, as his soul is subject to so many passions. but if this law appoints an aristocracy, or a democracy, how will it help us in our present doubts? for those things will happen which we have already mentioned. chapter xi other particulars we will consider separately; but it seems proper to prove, that the supreme power ought to be lodged with the many, rather than with those of the better sort, who are few; and also to explain what doubts (and probably just ones) may arise: now, though not one individual of the many may himself be fit for the supreme power, yet when these many are joined together, it does not follow but they may be better qualified for it than those; and this not separately, but as a collective body; as the public suppers exceed those which are given at one person's private expense: for, as they are many, each person brings in his share of virtue and wisdom; and thus, coming together, they are like one man made up of a multitude, with many feet, many hands, and many intelligences: thus is it with respect to the manners and understandings of the multitude taken together; for which reason the public are the best judges of music and poetry; for some understand one part, some another, and all collectively the whole; and in this particular men of consequence differ from each of the many; as they say those who are beautiful do from those who are not so, and as fine pictures excel any natural objects, by collecting the several beautiful parts which were dispersed among different originals into one, although the separate parts, as the eye or any other, might be handsomer than in the picture. but if this distinction is to be made between every people and every general assembly, and some few men of consequence, it may be doubtful whether it is true; nay, it is clear enough that, with respect to a few, it is not; since the same conclusion might be applied even to brutes: and indeed wherein do some men differ from brutes? not but that nothing prevents what i have said being true of the people in some states. the doubt then which we have lately proposed, with all its consequences, may be settled in this manner; it is necessary that the freemen who compose the bulk of the people should have absolute power in some things; but as they are neither men of property, nor act uniformly upon principles of virtue, it is not safe to trust them with the first offices in the state, both on account of their iniquity and their ignorance; from the one of which they will do what is wrong, from the other they will mistake: and yet it is dangerous to allow them no power or share in the government; for when there are many poor people who are incapable of acquiring the honours of their country, the state must necessarily have many enemies in it; let them then be permitted to vote in the public assemblies and to determine causes; for which reason socrates, and some other legislators, gave them the power of electing the officers of the state, and also of inquiring into their conduct when they came out of office, and only prevented their being magistrates by themselves; for the multitude when they are collected together have all of them sufficient understanding for these purposes, and, mixing among those of higher rank, are serviceable to the city, as some things, which alone are improper for food, when mixed with others make the whole more wholesome than a few of them would be. but there is a difficulty attending this form of government, for it seems, that the person who himself was capable of curing any one who was then sick, must be the best judge whom to employ as a physician; but such a one must be himself a physician; and the same holds true in every other practice and art: and as a physician ought [ a] to give an account of his practice to a physician, so ought it to be in other arts: those whose business is physic may be divided into three sorts, the first of these is he who makes up the medicines; the second prescribes, and is to the other as the architect is to the mason; the third is he who understands the science, but never practises it: now these three distinctions may be found in those who understand all other arts; nor have we less opinion of their judgment who are only instructed in the principles of the art than of those who practise it: and with respect to elections the same method of proceeding seems right; for to elect a proper person in any science is the business of those who are skilful therein; as in geometry, of geometricians; in steering, of steersmen: but if some individuals should know something of particular arts and works, they do not know more than the professors of them: so that even upon this principle neither the election of magistrates, nor the censure of their conduct, should be entrusted to the many. but probably all that has been here said may not be right; for, to resume the argument i lately used, if the people are not very brutal indeed, although we allow that each individual knows less of these affairs than those who have given particular attention to them, yet when they come together they will know them better, or at least not worse; besides, in some particular arts it is not the workman only who is the best judge; namely, in those the works of which are understood by those who do not profess them: thus he who builds a house is not the only judge of it, for the master of the family who inhabits it is a better; thus also a steersman is a better judge of a tiller than he who made it; and he who gives an entertainment than the cook. what has been said seems a sufficient solution of this difficulty; but there is another that follows: for it seems absurd that the power of the state should be lodged with those who are but of indifferent morals, instead of those who are of excellent characters. now the power of election and censure are of the utmost consequence, and this, as has been said, in some states they entrust to the people; for the general assembly is the supreme court of all, and they have a voice in this, and deliberate in all public affairs, and try all causes, without any objection to the meanness of their circumstances, and at any age: but their treasurers, generals, and other great officers of state are taken from men of great fortune and worth. this difficulty also may be solved upon the same principle; and here too they may be right, for the power is not in the man who is member of the assembly, or council, but the assembly itself, and the council, and the people, of which each individual of the whole community are the parts, i mean as senator, adviser, or judge; for which reason it is very right, that the many should have the greatest powers in their own hands; for the people, the council, and the judges are composed of them, and the property of all these collectively is more than the property of any person or a few who fill the great offices of the state: and thus i determine these points. the first question that we stated shows plainly, that the supreme power should be lodged in laws duly made and that the magistrate or magistrates, either one or more, should be authorised to determine those cases which the laws cannot particularly speak to, as it is impossible for them, in general language, to explain themselves upon everything that may arise: but what these laws are which are established upon the best foundations has not been yet explained, but still remains a matter of some question: but the laws of every state will necessarily be like every state, either trifling or excellent, just or unjust; for it is evident, that the laws must be framed correspondent to the constitution of the government; and, if so, it is plain, that a well-formed government will have good laws, a bad one, bad ones. chapter xii since in every art and science the end aimed at is always good, so particularly in this, which is the most excellent of all, the founding of civil society, the good wherein aimed at is justice; for it is this which is for the benefit of all. now, it is the common opinion, that justice is a certain equality; and in this point all the philosophers are agreed when they treat of morals: for they say what is just, and to whom; and that equals ought to receive equal: but we should know how we are to determine what things are equal and what unequal; and in this there is some difficulty, which calls for the philosophy of the politician. some persons will probably say, that the employments of the state ought to be given according to every particular excellence of each citizen, if there is no other difference between them and the rest of the community, but they are in every respect else alike: for justice attributes different things to persons differing from each other in their character, according to their respective merits. but if this is admitted to be true, complexion, or height, or any such advantage will be a claim for a greater share of the public rights. but that this is evidently absurd is clear from other arts and sciences; for with respect to musicians who play on the flute together, the best flute is not given to him who is of the best family, for he will play never the better for that, but the best instrument ought to be given to him who is the best artist. if what is now said does not make this clear, we will explain it still further: if there should be any one, a very excellent player on the flute, but very deficient in family and beauty, though each of them are more valuable endowments than a skill in music, and excel this art in a higher degree than that player excels others, yet the best flutes ought to be given to him; for the superiority [ a] in beauty and fortune should have a reference to the business in hand; but these have none. moreover, according to this reasoning, every possible excellence might come in comparison with every other; for if bodily strength might dispute the point with riches or liberty, even any bodily strength might do it; so that if one person excelled in size more than another did in virtue, and his size was to qualify him to take place of the other's virtue, everything must then admit of a comparison with each other; for if such a size is greater than virtue by so much, it is evident another must be equal to it: but, since this is impossible, it is plain that it would be contrary to common sense to dispute a right to any office in the state from every superiority whatsoever: for if one person is slow and the other swift, neither is the one better qualified nor the other worse on that account, though in the gymnastic races a difference in these particulars would gain the prize; but a pretension to the offices of the state should be founded on a superiority in those qualifications which are useful to it: for which reason those of family, independency, and fortune, with great propriety, contend with each other for them; for these are the fit persons to fill them: for a city can no more consist of all poor men than it can of all slaves but if such persons are requisite, it is evident that those also who are just and valiant are equally so; for without justice and valour no state can be supported, the former being necessary for its existence, the latter for its happiness. chapter xiii it seems, then, requisite for the establishment of a state, that all, or at least many of these particulars should be well canvassed and inquired into; and that virtue and education may most justly claim the right of being considered as the necessary means of making the citizens happy, as we have already said. as those who are equal in one particular are not therefore equal in all, and those who are unequal in one particular are not therefore unequal in all, it follows that all those governments which are established upon a principle which supposes they are, are erroneous. we have already said, that all the members of the community will dispute with each other for the offices of the state; and in some particulars justly, but not so in general; the rich, for instance, because they have the greatest landed property, and the ultimate right to the soil is vested in the community; and also because their fidelity is in general most to be depended on. the freemen and men of family will dispute the point with each other, as nearly on an equality; for these latter have a right to a higher regard as citizens than obscure persons, for honourable descent is everywhere of great esteem: nor is it an improper conclusion, that the descendants of men of worth will be men of worth themselves; for noble birth is the fountain of virtue to men of family: for the same reason also we justly say, that virtue has a right to put in her pretensions. justice, for instance, is a virtue, and so necessary to society, that all others must yield her the precedence. let us now see what the many have to urge on their side against the few; and they may say, that if, when collectively taken, they are compared with them, they are stronger, richer, and better than they are. but should it ever happen that all these should inhabit the [ b] same city, i mean the good, the rich, the noble, as well as the many, such as usually make up the community, i ask, will there then be any reason to dispute concerning who shall govern, or will there not? for in every community which we have mentioned there is no dispute where the supreme power should be placed; for as these differ from each other, so do those in whom that is placed; for in one state the rich enjoy it, in others the meritorious, and thus each according to their separate manners. let us however consider what is to be done when all these happen at the same time to inhabit the same city. if the virtuous should be very few in number, how then shall we act? shall we prefer the virtuous on account of their abilities, if they are capable of governing the city? or should they be so many as almost entirely to compose the state? there is also a doubt concerning the pretensions of all those who claim the honours of government: for those who found them either on fortune or family have nothing which they can justly say in their defence; since it is evident upon their principle, that if any one person can be found richer than all the rest, the right of governing all these will be justly vested in this one person. in the same manner, one man who is of the best family will claim it from those who dispute the point upon family merit: and probably in an aristocracy the same dispute might arise on the score of virtue, if there is one man better than all the other men of worth who are in the same community; it seems just, by the same reasoning, that he should enjoy the supreme power. and upon this principle also, while the many suppose they ought to have the supreme command, as being more powerful than the few, if one or more than one, though a small number should be found stronger than themselves, these ought rather to have it than they. all these things seem to make it plain, that none of these principles are justly founded on which these persons would establish their right to the supreme power; and that all men whatsoever ought to obey them: for with respect to those who claim it as due to their virtue or their fortune, they might have justly some objection to make; for nothing hinders but that it may sometimes happen, that the many may be better or richer than the few, not as individuals, but in their collective capacity. as to the doubt which some persons have proposed and objected, we may answer it in this manner; it is this, whether a legislator, who would establish the most perfect system of laws, should calculate them for the use of the better part of the citizens, or the many, in the circumstances we have already mentioned? the rectitude of anything consists in its equality; that therefore which is equally right will be advantageous to the whole state, and to every member of it in common. now, in general, a citizen is one who both shares in the government and also in his turn submits to be governed; [ a] their condition, it is true, is different in different states: the best is that in which a man is enabled to choose and to persevere in a course of virtue during his whole life, both in his public and private state. but should there be one person, or a very few, eminent for an uncommon degree of virtue, though not enough to make up a civil state, so that the virtue of the many, or their political abilities, should be too inferior to come in comparison with theirs, if more than one; or if but one, with his only; such are not to be considered as part of the city; for it would be doing them injustice to rate them on a level with those who are so far their inferiors in virtue and political abilities, that they appear to them like a god amongst men. from whence it is evident, that a system of laws must be calculated for those who are equal to each other in nature and power. such men, therefore, are not the object of law; for they are themselves a law: and it would be ridiculous in any one to endeavour to include them in the penalties of a law: for probably they might say what antisthenes tells us the lions did to the hares when they demanded to be admitted to an equal share with them in the government. and it is on this account that democratic states have established the ostracism; for an equality seems the principal object of their government. for which reason they compel all those who are very eminent for their power, their fortune, their friendships, or any other cause which may give them too great weight in the government, to submit to the ostracism, and leave the city for a stated time; as the fabulous histories relate the argonauts served hercules, for they refused to take him with them in the ship argo on account of his superior valour. for which reason those who hate a tyranny and find fault with the advice which periander gave to thrasybulus, must not think there was nothing to be said in its defence; for the story goes, that periander said nothing to the messenger in answer to the business he was consulted about, but striking off those ears of corn which were higher than the rest, reduced the whole crop to a level; so that the messenger, without knowing the cause of what was done, related the fact to thrasybulus, who understood by it that he must take off all the principal men in the city. nor is this serviceable to tyrants only; nor is it tyrants only who do it; for the same thing is practised both in oligarchies and democracies: for the ostracism has in a manner nearly the same power, by restraining and banishing those who are too great; and what is done in one city is done also by those who have the supreme power in separate states; as the athenians with respect to the samians, the chians, and the lesbians; for when they suddenly acquired the superiority over all greece, they brought the other states into subjection, contrary to the treaties which subsisted between them. the king of persia also very often reduces the medes and babylonians when they assume upon their former power: [ b] and this is a principle which all governments whatsoever keep in their eye; even those which are best administered, as well as those which are not, do it; these for the sake of private utility, the others for the public good. the same thing is to be perceived in the other arts and sciences; for a painter would not represent an animal with a foot disproportionally large, though he had drawn it remarkably beautiful; nor would the shipwright make the prow or any other part of the vessel larger than it ought to be; nor will the master of the band permit any who sings louder and better than the rest to sing in concert with them. there is therefore no reason that a monarch should not act in agreement with free states, to support his own power, if they do the same thing for the benefit of their respective communities; upon which account when there is any acknowledged difference in the power of the citizens, the reason upon which the ostracism is founded will be politically just; but it is better for the legislator so to establish his state at the beginning as not to want this remedy: but if in course of time such an inconvenience should arise, to endeavour to amend it by some such correction. not that this was the use it was put to: for many did not regard the benefit of their respective communities, but made the ostracism a weapon in the hand of sedition. it is evident, then, that in corrupt governments it is partly just and useful to the individual, though probably it is as clear that it is not entirely just: for in a well-governed state there may be great doubts about the use of it, not on account of the pre-eminence which one may have in strength, riches, or connection: but when the pre-eminence is virtue, what then is to be done? for it seems not right to turn out and banish such a one; neither does it seem right to govern him, for that would be like desiring to share the power with jupiter and to govern him: nothing then remains but what indeed seems natural, and that is for all persons quietly to submit to the government of those who are thus eminently virtuous, and let them be perpetually kings in the separate states. chapter xiv what has been now said, it seems proper to change our subject and to inquire into the nature of monarchies; for we have already admitted them to be one of those species of government which are properly founded. and here let us consider whether a kingly government is proper for a city or a country whose principal object is the happiness of the inhabitants, or rather some other. but let us first determine whether this is of one kind only, or more; [ a] and it is easy to know that it consists of many different species, and that the forms of government are not the same in all: for at sparta the kingly power seems chiefly regulated by the laws; for it is not supreme in all circumstances; but when the king quits the territories of the state he is their general in war; and all religious affairs are entrusted to him: indeed the kingly power with them is chiefly that of a general who cannot be called to an account for his conduct, and whose command is for life: for he has not the power of life and death, except as a general; as they frequently had in their expeditions by martial law, which we learn from homer; for when agamemnon is affronted in council, he restrains his resentment, but when he is in the field and armed with this power, he tells the greeks: "whoe'er i know shall shun th' impending fight, to dogs and vultures soon shall be a prey; for death is mine...." this, then, is one species of monarchical government in which the kingly power is in a general for life; and is sometimes hereditary, sometimes elective: besides, there is also another, which is to be met with among some of the barbarians, in which the kings are invested with powers nearly equal to a tyranny, yet are, in some respects, bound by the laws and the customs of their country; for as the barbarians are by nature more prone to slavery than the greeks, and those in asia more than those in europe, they endure without murmuring a despotic government; for this reason their governments are tyrannies; but yet not liable to be overthrown, as being customary and according to law. their guards also are such as are used in a kingly government, not a despotic one; for the guards of their kings are his citizens, but a tyrant's are foreigners. the one commands, in the manner the law directs, those who willingly obey; the other, arbitrarily, those who consent not. the one, therefore, is guarded by the citizens, the other against them. these, then, are the two different sorts of these monarchies, and another is that which in ancient greece they called _aesumnetes_; which is nothing more than an elective tyranny; and its difference from that which is to be found amongst the barbarians consists not in its not being according to law, but only in its not being according to the ancient customs of the country. some persons possessed this power for life, others only for a particular time or particular purpose, as the people of mitylene elected pittacus to oppose the exiles, who were headed by antimenides and alcaeus the poet, as we learn from a poem of his; for he upbraids the mitylenians for having chosen pittacus for their tyrant, and with one [ b] voice extolling him to the skies who was the ruin of a rash and devoted people. these sorts of government then are, and ever were, despotic, on account of their being tyrannies; but inasmuch as they are elective, and over a free people, they are also kingly. a fourth species of kingly government is that which was in use in the heroic times, when a free people submitted to a kingly government, according to the laws and customs of their country. for those who were at first of benefit to mankind, either in arts or arms, or by collecting them into civil society, or procuring them an establishment, became the kings of a willing people, and established an hereditary monarchy. they were particularly their generals in war, and presided over their sacrifices, excepting such only as belonged to the priests: they were also the supreme judges over the people; and in this case some of them took an oath, others did not; they did, the form of swearing was by their sceptre held out. in ancient times the power of the kings extended to everything whatsoever, both civil, domestic, and foreign; but in after-times they relinquished some of their privileges, and others the people assumed, so that, in some states, they left their kings only the right of presiding over the sacrifices; and even those whom it were worth while to call by that name had only the right of being commander-in-chief in their foreign wars. these, then, are the four sorts of kingdoms: the first is that of the heroic times; which was a government over a free people, with its rights in some particulars marked out; for the king was their general, their judge, and their high priest. the second, that of the barbarians; which is an hereditary despotic government regulated by laws: the third is that which they call aesumnetic, which is an elective tyranny. the fourth is the lacedaemonian; and this, in few words, is nothing more than an hereditary generalship: and in these particulars they differ from each other. there is a fifth species of kingly government, which is when one person has a supreme power over all things whatsoever, in the manner that every state and every city has over those things which belong to the public: for as the master of a family is king in his own house, so such a king is master of a family in his own city or state. chapter xv but the different sorts of kingly governments may, if i may so say, be reduced to two; which we will consider more particularly. the last spoken of, and the lacedaemonian, for the chief of the others are placed between these, which are as it were at the extremities, they having less power than an absolute government, and yet more than the lacedaemonians; so that the whole matter in question may be reduced to these two points; the one is, whether it is advantageous to the citizens to have the office of general continue in one person for life, and whether it should be confined to any particular families or whether every one should be eligible: the other, whether [ a] it is advantageous for one person to have the supreme power over everything or not. but to enter into the particulars concerning the office of a lacedaemonian general would be rather to frame laws for a state than to consider the nature and utility of its constitution, since we know that the appointing of a general is what is done in every state. passing over this question then, we will proceed to consider the other part of their government, which is the polity of the state; and this it will be necessary to examine particularly into, and to go through such questions as may arise. now the first thing which presents itself to our consideration is this, whether it is best to be governed by a good man, or by good laws? those who prefer a kingly government think that laws can only speak a general language, but cannot adapt themselves to particular circumstances; for which reason it is absurd in any science to follow written rule; and even in egypt the physician was allowed to alter the mode of cure which the law prescribed to him, after the fourth day; but if he did it sooner it was at his own peril: from whence it is evident, on the very same account, that a government of written laws is not the best; and yet general reasoning is necessary to all those who are to govern, and it will be much more perfect in those who are entirely free from passions than in those to whom they are natural. but now this is a quality which laws possess; while the other is natural to the human soul. but some one will say in answer to this, that man will be a better judge of particulars. it will be necessary, then, for a king to be a lawgiver, and that his laws should be published, but that those should have no authority which are absurd, as those which are not, should. but whether is it better for the community that those things which cannot possibly come under the cognisance of the law either at all or properly should be under the government of every worthy citizen, as the present method is, when the public community, in their general assemblies, act as judges and counsellors, where all their determinations are upon particular cases, for one individual, be he who he will, will be found, upon comparison, inferior to a whole people taken collectively: but this is what a city is, as a public entertainment is better than one man's portion: for this reason the multitude judge of many things better than any one single person. they are also less liable to corruption from their numbers, as water is from its quantity: besides, the judgment of an individual must necessarily be perverted if he is overcome by anger or any other passion; but it would be hard indeed if the whole community should be misled by anger. moreover, let the people be free, and they will do nothing but in conformity to the law, except only in those cases which the law cannot speak to. but though what i am going to propose may not easily be met with, yet if the majority of the state should happen to be good men, should they prefer one uncorrupt governor or many equally good, is it not evident that they should choose the many? but there may be divisions among [ b] these which cannot happen when there is but one. in answer to this it may be replied that all their souls will be as much animated with virtue as this one man's. if then a government of many, and all of them good men, compose an aristocracy, and the government of one a kingly power, it is evident that the people should rather choose the first than the last; and this whether the state is powerful or not, if many such persons so alike can be met with: and for this reason probable it was, that the first governments were generally monarchies; because it was difficult to find a number of persons eminently virtuous, more particularly as the world was then divided into small communities; besides, kings were appointed in return for the benefits they had conferred on mankind; but such actions are peculiar to good men: but when many persons equal in virtue appeared at the time, they brooked not a superiority, but sought after an equality and established a free state; but after this, when they degenerated, they made a property of the public; which probably gave rise to oligarchies; for they made wealth meritorious, and the honours of government were reserved for the rich: and these afterwards turned to tyrannies and these in their turn gave rise to democracies; for the power of the tyrants continually decreasing, on account of their rapacious avarice, the people grew powerful enough to frame and establish democracies: and as cities after that happened to increase, probably it was not easy for them to be under any other government than a democracy. but if any person prefers a kingly government in a state, what is to be done with the king's children? is the family also to reign? but should they have such children as some persons usually have, it will be very detrimental. it may be said, that then the king who has it in his power will never permit such children to succeed to his kingdom. but it is not easy to trust to that; for it is very hard and requires greater virtue than is to be met with in human nature. there is also a doubt concerning the power with which a king should be entrusted: whether he should be allowed force sufficient to compel those who do not choose to be obedient to the laws, and how he is to support his government? for if he is to govern according to law and do nothing of his own will which is contrary thereunto, at the same time it will be necessary to protect that power with which he guards the law, this matter however may not be very difficult to determine; for he ought to have a proper power, and such a one is that which will be sufficient to make the king superior to any one person or even a large part of the community, but inferior to the whole, as the ancients always appointed guards for that person whom they created aesumnetes or tyrant; and some one advised the syracusians, when dionysius asked for guards, to allow him such. chapter xvi [ a] we will next consider the absolute monarch that we have just mentioned, who does everything according to his own will: for a king governing under the direction of laws which he is obliged to follow does not of himself create any particular species of government, as we have already said: for in every state whatsoever, either aristocracy or democracy, it is easy to appoint a general for life; and there are many who entrust the administration of affairs to one person only; such is the government at dyrrachium, and nearly the same at opus. as for an absolute monarchy as it is called, that is to say, when the whole state is wholly subject to the will of one person, namely the king, it seems to many that it is unnatural that one man should have the entire rule over his fellow-citizens when the state consists of equals: for nature requires that the same right and the same rank should necessarily take place amongst all those who are equal by nature: for as it would be hurtful to the body for those who are of different constitutions to observe the same regimen, either of diet or clothing, so is it with respect to the honours of the state as hurtful, that those who are equal in merit should be unequal in rank; for which reason it is as much a man's duty to submit to command as to assume it, and this also by rotation; for this is law, for order is law; and it is more proper that law should govern than any one of the citizens: upon the same principle, if it is advantageous to place the supreme power in some particular persons, they should be appointed to be only guardians, and the servants of the laws, for the supreme power must be placed somewhere; but they say, that it is unjust that where all are equal one person should continually enjoy it. but it seems unlikely that man should be able to adjust that which the law cannot determine; it may be replied, that the law having laid down the best rules possible, leaves the adjustment and application of particulars to the discretion of the magistrate; besides, it allows anything to be altered which experience proves may be better established. moreover, he who would place the supreme power in mind, would place it in god and the laws; but he who entrusts man with it, gives it to a wild beast, for such his appetites sometimes make him; for passion influences those who are in power, even the very best of men: for which reason law is reason without desire. the instance taken from the arts seems fallacious: wherein it is said to be wrong for a sick person to apply for a remedy to books, but that it would be far more eligible to employ those who are skilful in physic; for these do nothing contrary to reason from motives of friendship but earn their money by curing the sick, whereas those who have the management of public affairs do many things through hatred or favour. and, as a proof of what we have advanced, it may be observed, that whenever a sick person suspects that his physician has been persuaded by his enemies to be guilty of any foul practice to him in his profession, he then rather chooses to apply to books for his cure: and not only this [ b] but even physicians themselves when they are ill call in other physicians: and those who teach others the gymnastic exercises, exercise with those of the same profession, as being incapable from self-partiality to form a proper judgment of what concerns themselves. from whence it is evident, that those who seek for what is just, seek for a mean; now law is a mean. moreover; the moral law is far superior and conversant with far superior objects than the written law; for the supreme magistrate is safer to be trusted to than the one, though he is inferior to the other. but as it is impossible that one person should have an eye to everything himself, it will be necessary that the supreme magistrate should employ several subordinate ones under him; why then should not this be done at first, instead of appointing one person in this manner? besides, if, according to what has been already said, the man of worth is on that account fit to govern, two men of worth are certainly better than one: as, for instance, in homer, "let two together go:" and also agamemnon's wish; "were ten such faithful counsel mine!" not but that there are even now some particular magistrates invested with supreme power to decide, as judges, those things which the law cannot, as being one of those cases which comes not properly under its jurisdiction; for of those which can there is no doubt: since then laws comprehend some things, but not all, it is necessary to enquire and consider which of the two is preferable, that the best man or the best law should govern; for to reduce every subject which can come under the deliberation of man into a law is impossible. no one then denies, that it is necessary that there should be some person to decide those cases which cannot come under the cognisance of a written law: but we say, that it is better to have many than one; for though every one who decides according to the principles of the law decides justly; yet surely it seems absurd to suppose, that one person can see better with two eyes, and hear better with two ears, or do better with two hands and two feet, than many can do with many: for we see that absolute monarchs now furnish themselves with many eyes and ears and hands and feet; for they entrust those who are friends to them and their government with part of their power; for if they are not friends to the monarch, they will not do what he chooses; but if they are friends to him, they are friends also to his government: but a friend is an equal and like his friend: if then he thinks that such should govern, he thinks that his equal also should govern. these are nearly the objections which are usually made to a kingly power. chapter xvii probably what we have said may be true of some persons, but not of others; for some men are by nature formed to be under the government of a master; others, of a king; others, to be the citizens of a free state, just and useful; but a tyranny is not according to nature, nor the other perverted forms of government; for they are contrary to it. but it is evident from what has been said, that among equals it is neither advantageous nor [ a] right that one person should be lord over all where there are no established laws, but his will is the law; or where there are; nor is it right that one who is good should have it over those who are good; or one who is not good over those who are not good; nor one who is superior to the rest in worth, except in a particular manner, which shall be described, though indeed it has been already mentioned. but let us next determine what people are best qualified for a kingly government, what for an aristocratic, and what for a democratic. and, first, for a kingly; and it should be those who are accustomed by nature to submit the civil government of themselves to a family eminent for virtue: for an aristocracy, those who are naturally framed to bear the rule of free men, whose superior virtue makes them worthy of the management of others: for a free state, a war-like people, formed by nature both to govern and be governed by laws which admit the poorest citizen to share the honours of the commonwealth according to his worth. but whenever a whole family or any one of another shall happen so far to excel in virtue as to exceed all other persons in the community, then it is right that the kingly power should be in them, or if it is an individual who does so, that he should be king and lord of all; for this, as we have just mentioned, is not only correspondent to that principle of right which all founders of all states, whether aristocracies, oligarchies, or democracies, have a regard to (for in placing the supreme power they all think it right to fix it to excellence, though not the same); but it is also agreeable to what has been already said; as it would not be right to kill, or banish, or ostracise such a one for his superior merit. nor would it be proper to let him have the supreme power only in turn; for it is contrary to nature that what is highest should ever be lowest: but this would be the case should such a one ever be governed by others. so that there can nothing else be done but to submit, and permit him continually to enjoy the supreme power. and thus much with respect to kingly power in different states, and whether it is or is not advantageous to them, and to what, and in what manner. chapter xviii since then we have said that there are three sorts of regular governments, and of these the best must necessarily be that which is administered by the best men (and this must be that which happens to have one man, or one family, or a number of persons excelling all the rest in virtue, who are able to govern and be governed in such a manner as will make life most agreeable, and we have already shown that the virtue of a good man and of a citizen in the most perfect government will be the same), it is evident, that in the same manner, and for those very qualities which would procure a man the character of good, any one would say, that the government of a state was a well-established aristocracy or kingdom; so that it will be found to be education and [ b] morals that are almost the whole which go to make a good man, and the same qualities will make a good citizen or good king. these particulars being treated of, we will now proceed to consider what sort of government is best, how it naturally arises, and how it is established; for it is necessary to make a proper inquiry concerning this. book iv chapter i in every art and science which is not conversant in parts but in some one genus in which it is complete, it is the business of that art alone to determine what is fitted to its particular genus; as what particular exercise is fitted to a certain particular body, and suits it best: for that body which is formed by nature the most perfect and superior to others necessarily requires the best exercise-and also of what one kind that must be which will suit the generality; and this is the business of the gymnastic arts: and although any one should not desire to acquire an exact knowledge and skill in these exercises, yet it is not, on that account, the less necessary that he who professes to be a master and instruct the youth in them should be perfect therein: and we see that this is what equally befalls the healing, shipbuilding, cloth-making, and indeed all other arts; so that it evidently belongs to the same art to find out what kind of government is best, and would of all others be most correspondent to our wish, while it received no molestation from without: and what particular species of it is adapted to particular persons; for there are many who probably are incapable of enjoying the best form: so that the legislator, and he who is truly a politician, ought to be acquainted not only with that which is most perfect imaginable, but also that which is the best suited to any given circumstances. there is, moreover, a third sort, an imaginary one, and he ought, if such a one should be presented to his consideration, to be able to discern what sort of one it would be at the beginning; and, when once established, what would be the proper means to preserve it a long time. i mean, for instance, if a state should happen not to have the best form of government, or be deficient in what was necessary, or not receive every advantage possible, but something less. and, besides all this, it is necessary to know what sort of government is best fitting for all cities: for most of those writers who have treated this subject, however speciously they may handle other parts of it, have failed in describing the practical parts: for it is not enough to be able to perceive what is best without it is what can be put in practice. it should also be simple, and easy for all to attain to. but some seek only the most subtile forms of government. others again, choosing [ a] rather to treat of what is common, censure those under which they live, and extol the excellence of a particular state, as the lacedaemonian, or some other: but every legislator ought to establish such a form of government as from the present state and disposition of the people who are to receive it they will most readily submit to and persuade the community to partake of: for it is not a business of less trouble to correct the mistakes of an established government than to form a new one; as it is as difficult to recover what we have forgot as to learn anything afresh. he, therefore, who aspires to the character of a legislator, ought, besides all we have already said, to be able to correct the mistakes of a government already established, as we have before mentioned. but this is impossible to be done by him who does not know how many different forms of government there are: some persons think that there is only one species both of democracy and oligarchy; but this is not true: so that every one should be acquainted with the difference of these governments, how great they are, and whence they arise; and should have equal knowledge to perceive what laws are best, and what are most suitable to each particular government: for all laws are, and ought to be, framed agreeable to the state that is to be governed by them, and not the state to the laws: for government is a certain ordering in a state which particularly respects the magistrates in what manner they shall be regulated, and where the supreme power shall be placed; and what shall be the final object which each community shall have in view; but the laws are something different from what regulates and expresses the form of the constitution-it is their office to direct the conduct of the magistrate in the execution of his office and the punishment of offenders. from whence it is evident, that the founders of laws should attend both to the number and the different sorts of government; for it is impossible that the same laws should be calculated for all sorts of oligarchies and all sorts of democracies, for of both these governments there are many species, not one only. chapter ii since, then, according to our first method in treating of the different forms of government, we have divided those which are regular into three sorts, the kingly, the aristocratical, the free states, and shown the three excesses which these are liable to: the kingly, of becoming tyrannical; the aristocratical, oligarchical; and the free state, democratical: and as we have already treated of the aristocratical and kingly; for to enter into an inquiry what sort of government is best is the same thing as to treat of these two expressly; for each of them desires to be established upon the principles of virtue: and as, moreover, we have already determined wherein a kingly power and an aristocracy differ from each other, and when a state may be said to be governed by a king, it now remains that we examine into a free state, and also these other governments, an oligarchy, a democracy, and a [ b] tyranny; and it is evident of these three excesses which must be the worst of all, and which next to it; for, of course, the excesses of the best and most holy must be the worst; for it must necessarily happen either that the name of king only will remain, or else that the king will assume more power than belongs to him, from whence tyranny will arise, the worst excess imaginable, a government the most contrary possible to a free state. the excess next hurtful is an oligarchy; for an aristocracy differs much from this sort of government: that which is least so is a democracy. this subject has been already treated of by one of those writers who have gone before me, though his sentiments are not the same as mine: for he thought, that of all excellent constitutions, as a good oligarchy or the like, a democracy was the worst, but of all bad ones, the best. now i affirm, that all these states have, without exception, fallen into excess; and also that he should not have said that one oligarchy was better than another, but that it was not quite so bad. but this question we shall not enter into at present. we shall first inquire how many different sorts of free states there are; since there are many species of democracies and oligarchies; and which of them is the most comprehensive, and most desirable after the best form of government; or if there is any other like an aristocracy, well established; and also which of these is best adapted to most cities, and which of them is preferable for particular persons: for, probably, some may suit better with an oligarchy than a democracy, and others better with a democracy than an oligarchy; and afterwards in what manner any one ought to proceed who desires to establish either of these states, i mean every species of democracy, and also of oligarchy. and to conclude, when we shall have briefly gone through everything that is necessary, we will endeavour to point out the sources of corruption, and stability, in government, as well those which are common to all as those which are peculiar to each state, and from what causes they chiefly arise. chapter iii the reason for there being many different sorts of governments is this, that each state consists of a great number of parts; for, in the first place, we see that all cities are made up of families: and again, of the multitude of these some must be rich, some poor, and others in the middle station; and that, both of the rich and poor, some will be used to arms, others not. we see also, that some of the common people are husbandmen, others attend the market, and others are artificers. there is also a difference between the nobles in their wealth, and the dignity in which they live: for instance, in the number of horses they breed; for this cannot be supported without a large fortune: for which reason, in former times, those cities whose strength consisted in horse became by that means oligarchies; and they used horse in their expeditions against the neighbouring cities; as the eretrians the chalcidians, the magnetians, who lived near the river meander, and many others in asia. moreover, besides the difference of fortune, there is that which arises from family and merit; or, if there are any other distinctions [ a] which make part of the city, they have been already mentioned in treating of an aristocracy, for there we considered how many parts each city must necessarily be composed of; and sometimes each of these have a share in the government, sometimes a few, sometimes more. it is evident then, that there must be many forms of government, differing from each other in their particular constitution: for the parts of which they are composed each differ from the other. for government is the ordering of the magistracies of the state; and these the community share between themselves, either as they can attain them by force, or according to some common equality which there is amongst them, as poverty, wealth, or something which they both partake of. there must therefore necessarily be as many different forms of governments as there are different ranks in the society, arising from the superiority of some over others, and their different situations. and these seem chiefly to be two, as they say, of the winds: namely, the north and the south; and all the others are declinations from these. and thus in politics, there is the government of the many and the government of the few; or a democracy and an oligarchy: for an aristocracy may be considered as a species of oligarchy, as being also a government of the few; and what we call a free state may be considered as a democracy: as in the winds they consider the west as part of the north, and the east as part of the south: and thus it is in music, according to some, who say there are only two species of it, the doric and the phrygian, and all other species of composition they call after one of these names; and many people are accustomed to consider the nature of government in the same light; but it is both more convenient and more correspondent to truth to distinguish governments as i have done, into two species: one, of those which are established upon proper principles; of which there may be one or two sorts: the other, which includes all the different excesses of these; so that we may compare the best form of government to the most harmonious piece of music; the oligarchic and despotic to the more violent tunes; and the democratic to the soft and gentle airs. chapter iv we ought not to define a democracy as some do, who say simply, that it is a government where the supreme power is lodged in the people; for even in oligarchies the supreme power is in the majority. nor should they define an oligarchy a government where the supreme power is in the hands of a few: for let us suppose the number of a people to be thirteen hundred, and that of these one thousand were rich, who would not permit the three hundred poor to have any share in the government, although they were free, and their equal in everything else; no one would say, that this government was a democracy. in like manner, if the poor, when few in number, should acquire the power over the rich, though more than themselves, no one would say, that this was an oligarchy; nor this, when the rest who are rich have no share in the administration. we should rather say, that a democracy is when the supreme power is in the [ b] hands of the freemen; an oligarchy, when it is in the hands of the rich: it happens indeed that in the one case the many will possess it, in the other the few; because there are many poor and few rich. and if the power of the state was to be distributed according to the size of the citizens, as they say it is in ethiopia, or according to their beauty, it would be an oligarchy: for the number of those who are large and beautiful is small. nor are those things which we have already mentioned alone sufficient to describe these states; for since there are many species both of a democracy and an oligarchy, the matter requires further consideration; as we cannot admit, that if a few persons who are free possess the supreme power over the many who are not free, that this government is a democracy: as in apollonia, in ionia, and in thera: for in each of these cities the honours of the state belong to some few particular families, who first founded the colonies. nor would the rich, because they are superior in numbers, form a democracy, as formerly at colophon; for there the majority had large possessions before the lydian war: but a democracy is a state where the freemen and the poor, being the majority, are invested with the power of the state. an oligarchy is a state where the rich and those of noble families, being few, possess it. we have now proved that there are various forms of government and have assigned a reason for it; and shall proceed to show that there are even more than these, and what they are, and why; setting out with the principle we have already laid down. we admit that every city consists not of one, but many parts: thus, if we should endeavour to comprehend the different species of animals we should first of all note those parts which every animal must have, as a certain sensorium, and also what is necessary to acquire and retain food, as a mouth and a belly; besides certain parts to enable it to move from place to place. if, then, these are the only parts of an animal and there are differences between them; namely, in their various sorts of stomachs, bellies, and sensoriums: to which we must add their motive powers; the number of the combinations of all these must necessarily make up the different species of animals. for it is not possible that the same kind of animal should have any very great difference in its mouth or ears; so that when all these are collected, who happen to have these things similar in all, they make up a species of animals of which there are as many as there are of these general combinations of necessary parts. the same thing is true of what are called states; for a city is not made of one but many parts, as has already been often said; one of which is those who supply it with provisions, called husbandmen, another called mechanics, [ a] whose employment is in the manual arts, without which the city could not be inhabited; of these some are busied about what is absolutely necessary, others in what contribute to the elegancies and pleasures of life; the third sort are your exchange-men, i mean by these your buyers, sellers, merchants, and victuallers; the fourth are your hired labourers or workmen; the fifth are the men-at-arms, a rank not less useful than the other, without you would have the community slaves to every invader; but what cannot defend itself is unworthy of the name of a city; for a city is self-sufficient, a slave not. so that when socrates, in plato's republic, says that a city is necessarily composed of four sorts of people, he speaks elegantly but not correctly, and these are, according to him, weavers, husbandmen, shoe-makers, and builders; he then adds, as if these were not sufficient, smiths, herdsmen for what cattle are necessary, and also merchants and victuallers, and these are by way of appendix to his first list; as if a city was established for necessity, and not happiness, or as if a shoe-maker and a husbandman were equally useful. he reckons not the military a part before the increase of territory and joining to the borders of the neighbouring powers will make war necessary: and even amongst them who compose his four divisions, or whoever have any connection with each other, it will be necessary to have some one to distribute justice, and determine between man and man. if, then, the mind is a more valuable part of man than the body, every one would wish to have those things more regarded in his city which tend to the advantage of these than common matters, such are war and justice; to which may be added council, which is the business of civil wisdom (nor is it of any consequence whether these different employments are filled by different persons or one, as the same man is oftentimes both a soldier and a husbandman): so that if both the judge and the senator are parts of the city, it necessarily follows that the soldier must be so also. the seventh sort are those who serve the public in expensive employments at their own charge: these are called the rich. the eighth are those who execute the different offices of the state, and without these it could not possibly subsist: it is therefore necessary that there should be some persons capable of governing and filling the places in the city; and this either for life or in rotation: the office of senator, and judge, of which we have already sufficiently treated, are the only ones remaining. if, then, these things are necessary for a state, that it may be happy and just, it follows that the citizens who engage in public affairs should be men of abilities therein. [ b] several persons think, that different employments may be allotted to the same person; as a soldier's, a husbandman's, and an artificer's; as also that others may be both senators and judges. besides, every one supposes himself a man of political abilities, and that he is qualified for almost every department in the state. but the same person cannot at once be poor and rich: for which reason the most obvious division of the city is into two parts, the poor and rich; moreover, since for the generality the one are few, the other many, they seem of all the parts of a city most contrary to each other; so that as the one or the other prevail they form different states; and these are the democracy and the oligarchy. but that there are many different states, and from what causes they arise, has been already mentioned: and that there are also different species both of democracies and oligarchies we will now show. though this indeed is evident from what we have already said: there are also many different sorts of common people, and also of those who are called gentlemen. of the different sorts of the first are husbandmen, artificers, exchange-men, who are employed in buying and selling, seamen, of which some are engaged in war, some in traffic, some in carrying goods and passengers from place to place, others in fishing, and of each of these there are often many, as fishermen at tarentum and byzantium, masters of galleys at athens, merchants at aegina and chios, those who let ships on freight at tenedos; we may add to these those who live by their manual labour and have but little property; so that they cannot live without some employ: and also those who are not free-born on both sides, and whatever other sort of common people there may be. as for gentlemen, they are such as are distinguished either by their fortune, their birth, their abilities, or their education, or any such-like excellence which is attributed to them. the most pure democracy is that which is so called principally from that equality which prevails in it: for this is what the law in that state directs; that the poor shall be in no greater subjection than the rich; nor that the supreme power shall be lodged with either of these, but that both shall share it. for if liberty and equality, as some persons suppose, are chiefly to be found in a democracy, it must be most so by every department of government being alike open to all; but as the people are the majority, and what they vote is law, it follows that such a state must be a democracy. this, then, is one species thereof. another is, when the magistrates are elected by a certain census; but this should be but small, and every one who was included in it should be eligible, but as soon as he was below it should lose that right. [ a] another sort is, in which every citizen who is not infamous has a share in the government, but where the government is in the laws. another, where every citizen without exception has this right. another is like these in other particulars, but there the people govern, and not the law: and this takes place when everything is determined by a majority of votes, and not by a law; which happens when the people are influenced by the demagogues: for where a democracy is governed by stated laws there is no room for them, but men of worth fill the first offices in the state: but where the power is not vested in the laws, there demagogues abound: for there the people rule with kingly power: the whole composing one body; for they are supreme, not as individuals but in their collective capacity. homer also discommends the government of many; but whether he means this we are speaking of, or where each person exercises his power separately, is uncertain. when the people possess this power they desire to be altogether absolute, that they may not be under the control of the law, and this is the time when flatterers are held in repute. nor is there any difference between such a people and monarchs in a tyranny: for their manners are the same, and they both hold a despotic power over better persons than themselves. for their decrees are like the others' edicts; their demagogues like the others' flatterers: but their greatest resemblance consists in the mutual support they give to each other, the flatterer to the tyrant, the demagogue to the people: and to them it is owing that the supreme power is lodged in the votes of the people, and not in the laws; for they bring everything before them, as their influence is owing to their being supreme whose opinions they entirely direct; for these are they whom the multitude obey. besides, those who accuse the magistrates insist upon it, that the right of determining on their conduct lies in the people, who gladly receive their complaints as the means of destroying all their offices. any one, therefore, may with great justice blame such a government as being a democracy, and not a free state; for where the government is not in the laws, then there is no free state, for the law ought to be supreme over all things; and particular incidents which arise should be determined by the magistrates or the state. if, therefore, a democracy is to be reckoned a free state, it is evident that any such establishment which centres all power in the votes of the people cannot, properly speaking, be a democracy: for their decrees cannot be general in their extent. thus, then, we may describe the several species of democracies. chapter v of the different species of oligarchies one is, when the right to the offices is regulated by a certain census; so that the poor, although the majority, have no share in it; while all those who are included therein take part in the management of public affairs. another sort is, when [ b] the magistrates are men of very small fortune, who upon any vacancy do themselves fill it up: and if they do this out of the community at large, the state approaches to an aristocracy; if out of any particular class of people, it will be an oligarchy. another sort of oligarchy is, when the power is an hereditary nobility. the fourth is, when the power is in the same hands as the other, but not under the control of law; and this sort of oligarchy exactly corresponds to a tyranny in monarchies, and to that particular species of democracies which i last mentioned in treating of that state: this has the particular name of a dynasty. these are the different sorts of oligarchies and democracies. it should also be known, that it often happens that a free state, where the supreme power is in the laws, may not be democratic, and yet in consequence of the established manners and customs of the people, may be governed as if it was; so, on the other hand, where the laws may countenance a more democratic form of government, these may make the state inclining to an oligarchy; and this chiefly happens when there has been any alteration in the government; for the people do not easily change, but love their own ancient customs; and it is by small degrees only that one thing takes place of another; so that the ancient laws will remain, while the power will be in the hands of those who have brought about a revolution in the state. chapter vi it is evident from what has been said, that there are as many different sorts of democracies and oligarchies as i have reckoned up: for, of necessity, either all ranks of the people which i have enumerated must have a share in the government, or some only, and others not; for when the husbandmen, and those only who possess moderate fortunes, have the supreme power, they will govern according to law; for as they must get their livings by their employs, they have but little leisure for public business: they will therefore establish proper laws, and never call public assemblies but when there is a necessity for them; and they will readily let every one partake with them in the administration of public affairs as soon as they possess that fortune which the law requires for their qualification: every one, therefore, who is qualified will have his share in the government: for to exclude any would be to make the government an oligarchy, and for all to have leisure to attend without they had a subsistence would be impossible: for these reasons, therefore, this government is a species of democracy. another species is distinguished by the mode of electing their magistrates, in which every one is eligible, to whose birth there are no objections, provided he is supposed to have leisure to attend: for which reason in such a democracy the supreme power will be vested in the laws, as there will be nothing paid to those who go to the public assemblies. a third species is where every freeman has a right to a share in the government, which he will not accept for the cause already assigned; for which reason here also the supreme power will be in the law. the fourth species [ a] of democracy, the last which was established in order of time, arose when cities were greatly enlarged to what they were at first, and when the public revenue became something considerable; for then the populace, on account of their numbers, were admitted to share in the management of public affairs, for then even the poorest people were at leisure to attend to them, as they received wages for so doing; nay, they were more so than others, as they were not hindered by having anything of their own to mind, as the rich had; for which reason these last very often did not frequent the public assemblies and the courts of justice: thus the supreme power was lodged in the poor, and not in the laws. these are the different sorts of democracies, and such are the causes which necessarily gave birth to them. the first species of oligarchy is, when the generality of the state are men of moderate and not too large property; for this gives them leisure for the management of public affairs: and, as they are a numerous body, it necessarily follows that the supreme power must be in the laws, and not in men; for as they are far removed from a monarchical government, and have not sufficient fortune to neglect their private affairs, while they are too many to be supported by the public, they will of course determine to be governed by the laws, and not by each other. but if the men of property in the state are but few, and their property is large, then an oligarchy of the second sort will take place; for those who have most power will think that they have a right to lord it over the others; and, to accomplish this, they will associate to themselves some who have an inclination for public affairs, and as they are not powerful enough to govern without law, they will make a law for that purpose. and if those few who have large fortunes should acquire still greater power, the oligarchy will then alter into one of the third sort; for they will get all the offices of the state into their own hands by a law which directs the son to succeed upon the death of his father; and, after that, when, by means of their increasing wealth and powerful connections, they extend still further their oppression, a monarchical dynasty will directly succeed wherein men will be supreme, and not the law; and this is the fourth species of an oligarchy correspondent to the last-mentioned class of democracies. chapter vii there are besides two other states, a democracy and an oligarchy, one of which all speak of, and it is always esteemed a species of the four sorts; and thus they reckon them up; a monarchy, an oligarchy, a democracy, and this fourth which they call an aristocracy. there is also a fifth, which bears a name that is also common to the other four, namely, a state: but as this is seldom to be met with, it has escaped those who have endeavoured to enumerate the different sorts of governments, which [ b] they fix at four only, as does plato in his republic. an aristocracy, of which i have already treated in the first book, is rightly called so; for a state governed by the best men, upon the most virtuous principles, and not upon any hypothesis, which even good men may propose, has alone a right to be called an aristocracy, for it is there only that a man is at once a good man and a good citizen; while in other states men are good only relative to those states. moreover, there are some other states which are called by the same name, that differ both from oligarchies and free states, wherein not only the rich but also the virtuous have a share in the administration; and have therefore acquired the name of aristocracies; for in those governments wherein virtue is not their common care, there are still men of worth and approved goodness. whatever state, then, like the carthaginians, favours the rich, the virtuous, and the citizens at large, is a sort of aristocracy: when only the two latter are held in esteem, as at lacedaemon, and the state is jointly composed of these, it is a virtuous democracy. these are the two species of aristocracies after the first, which is the best of all governments. there is also a third, which is, whenever a free state inclines to the dominion of a few. chapter viii it now remains for us to treat of that government which is particularly called a free state, and also of a tyranny; and the reason for my choosing to place that free state here is, because this, as well as those aristocracies already mentioned, although they do not seem excesses, yet, to speak true, they have all departed from what a perfect government is. nay, they are deviations both of them equally from other forms, as i said at the beginning. it is proper to mention a tyranny the last of all governments, for it is of all others the least like one: but as my intention is to treat of all governments in general, for this reason that also, as i have said, will be taken into consideration in its proper place. i shall now inquire into a free state and show what it is; and we shall the better understand its positive nature as we have already described an oligarchy and a democracy; for a free state is indeed nothing more than a mixture of them, and it has been usual to call those which incline most to a democracy, a free state; those which incline most to an oligarchy, an aristocracy, because those who are rich are generally men of family and education; besides, they enjoy those things which others are often guilty of crimes to procure: for which reason they are regarded as men of worth and honour and note. since, then, it is the genius of an aristocracy to allot the larger part of the government to the best citizens, they therefore say, that an oligarchy is chiefly composed of those men who are worthy and honourable: now it [ a] seems impossible that where the government is in the hands of the good, there the laws should not be good, but bad; or, on the contrary, that where the government is in the hands of the bad, there the laws should be good; nor is a government well constituted because the laws are, without at the same time care is taken that they are observed; for to enforce obedience to the laws which it makes is one proof of a good constitution in the state-another is, to have laws well calculated for those who are to abide by them; for if they are improper they must be obeyed: and this may be done two ways, either by their being the best relative to the particular state, or the best absolutely. an aristocracy seems most likely to confer the honours of the state on the virtuous; for virtue is the object of an aristocracy, riches of an oligarchy, and liberty of a democracy; for what is approved of by the majority will prevail in all or in each of these three different states; and that which seems good to most of those who compose the community will prevail: for what is called a state prevails in many communities, which aim at a mixture of rich and poor, riches and liberty: as for the rich, they are usually supposed to take the place of the worthy and honourable. as there are three things which claim an equal rank in the state, freedom, riches, and virtue (for as for the fourth, rank, it is an attendant on two of the others, for virtue and riches are the origin of family), it is evident, that the conjuncture of the rich and the poor make up a free state; but that all three tend to an aristocracy more than any other, except that which is truly so, which holds the first rank. we have already seen that there are governments different from a monarchy, a democracy, and an oligarchy; and what they are, and wherein they differ from each other; and also aristocracies and states properly so called, which are derived from them; and it is evident that these are not much unlike each other. chapter ix we shall next proceed to show how that government which is peculiarly called a state arises alongside of democracy and oligarchy, and how it ought to be established; and this will at the same time show what are the proper boundaries of both these governments, for we must mark out wherein they differ from one another, and then from both these compose a state of such parts of each of them as will show from whence they were taken. there are three different ways in which two states may be blended and joined together; for, in the first place, all those rules may be adopted which the laws of each of them have ordered; as for instance in the judicial department, for in an oligarchy the rich are fined if they do not come to the court as jurymen, but the poor are not paid for their attendance; but in democracies they are, while the rich are not fined for their neglect. now these things, as being common to both, are fit to be observed in a free [ b] state which is composed of both. this, then, is one way in which they may be joined together. in the second place, a medium may be taken between the different methods which each state observes; for instance, in a democracy the right to vote in the public assembly is either confined by no census at all, or limited by a very small one; in an oligarchy none enjoy it but those whose census is high: therefore, as these two practices are contrary to each other, a census between each may be established in such a state. in the third place, different laws of each community may be adopted; as, for instance, as it seems correspondent to the nature of a democracy, that the magistrates should be chosen by lot, but an aristocracy by vote, and in the one state according to a census, but not in the other: let, then, an aristocracy and a free state copy something from each of them; let them follow an oligarchy in choosing their magistrates by vote, but a democracy in not admitting of any census, and thus blend together the different customs of the two governments. but the best proof of a happy mixture of a democracy and an oligarchy is this, when a person may properly call the same state a democracy and an oligarchy. it is evident that those who speak of it in this manner are induced to it because both these governments are there well blended together: and indeed this is common to all mediums, that the extremes of each side should be discerned therein, as at lacedaemon; for many affirm that it is a democracy from the many particulars in which it follows that form of government; as for instance, in the first place, in the bringing up of their children, for the rich and poor are brought up in the same manner; and their education is such that the children of the poor may partake of it; and the same rules are observed when they are youths and men, there is no distinction between a rich person and a poor one; and in their public tables the same provision is served to all. the rich also wear only such clothes as the poorest man is able to purchase. moreover, with respect to two magistracies of the highest rank, one they have a right to elect to, the other to fill; namely, the senate and the ephori. others consider it as an oligarchy, the principles of which it follows in many things, as in choosing all their officers by vote, and not by lot; in there being but a few who have a right to sit in judgment on capital causes and the like. indeed, a state which is well composed of two others ought to resemble them both, and neither, such a state ought to have its means of preservation in itself, and not without; and when i say in itself, i do not mean that it should owe this to the forbearance of their neighbours, for this may happen to a bad government, but to every member of the community's not being willing that there should be the least alteration in their constitution. such is the method in which a free state or aristocracy ought to be established. chapter x it now remains to treat of a tyranny; not that there is [ a] much to be said on that subject, but as it makes part of our plan, since we enumerated it amongst our different sorts of governments. in the beginning of this work we inquired into the nature of kingly government, and entered into a particular examination of what was most properly called so, and whether it was advantageous to a state or not, and what it should be, and how established; and we divided a tyranny into two pieces when we were upon this subject, because there is something analogous between this and a kingly government, for they are both of them established by law; for among some of the barbarians they elect a monarch with absolute power, and formerly among the greeks there were some such, whom they called sesumnetes. now these differ from each other; for some possess only kingly power regulated by law, and rule those who voluntarily submit to their government; others rule despotically according to their own will. there is a third species of tyranny, most properly so called, which is the very opposite to kingly power; for this is the government of one who rules over his equals and superiors without being accountable for his conduct, and whose object is his own advantage, and not the advantage of those he governs; for which reason he rules by compulsion, for no freemen will ever willingly submit to such a government. these are the different species of tyrannies, their principles, and their causes. chapter xi we proceed now to inquire what form of government and what manner of life is best for communities in general, not adapting it to that superior virtue which is above the reach of the vulgar, or that education which every advantage of nature and fortune only can furnish, nor to those imaginary plans which may be formed at pleasure; but to that mode of life which the greater part of mankind can attain to, and that government which most cities may establish: for as to those aristocracies which we have now mentioned, they are either too perfect for a state to support, or one so nearly alike to that state we now going to inquire into, that we shall treat of them both as one. the opinions which we form upon these subjects must depend upon one common principle: for if what i have said in my treatise on morals is true, a happy life must arise from an uninterrupted course of virtue; and if virtue consists in a certain medium, the middle life must certainly be the happiest; which medium is attainable [ b] by every one. the boundaries of virtue and vice in the state must also necessarily be the same as in a private person; for the form of government is the life of the city. in every city the people are divided into three sorts; the very rich, the very poor, and those who are between them. if this is universally admitted, that the mean is best, it is evident that even in point of fortune mediocrity is to be preferred; for that state is most submissive to reason; for those who are very handsome, or very strong, or very noble, or very rich; or, on the contrary; those who are very poor, or very weak, or very mean, with difficulty obey it; for the one are capricious and greatly flagitious, the other rascally and mean, the crimes of each arising from their different excesses: nor will they go through the different offices of the state; which is detrimental to it: besides, those who excel in strength, in riches, or friends, or the like, neither know how nor are willing to submit to command: and this begins at home when they are boys; for there they are brought up too delicately to be accustomed to obey their preceptors: as for the very poor, their general and excessive want of what the rich enjoy reduces them to a state too mean: so that the one know not how to command, but to be commanded as slaves, the others know not how to submit to any command, nor to command themselves but with despotic power. a city composed of such men must therefore consist of slaves and masters, not freemen; where one party must hate, and the other despise, where there could be no possibility of friendship or political community: for community supposes affection; for we do not even on the road associate with our enemies. it is also the genius of a city to be composed as much as possible of equals; which will be most so when the inhabitants are in the middle state: from whence it follows, that that city must be best framed which is composed of those whom we say are naturally its proper members. it is men of this station also who will be best assured of safety and protection; for they will neither covet what belongs to others, as the poor do; nor will others covet what is theirs, as the poor do what belongs to the rich; and thus, without plotting against any one, or having any one plot against them, they will live free from danger: for which reason phocylides wisely wishes for the middle state, as being most productive of happiness. it is plain, then, that the most perfect political community must be amongst those who are in the middle rank, and those states are best instituted wherein these are a larger and more respectable part, if possible, than both the other; or, if that cannot be, at least than either of them separate; so that being thrown into the balance it may prevent either scale from preponderating. it is therefore the greatest happiness which the citizens can enjoy to possess a moderate and convenient fortune; for when some possess too much, and others nothing at [ a] all, the government must either be in the hands of the meanest rabble or else a pure oligarchy; or, from the excesses of both, a tyranny; for this arises from a headstrong democracy or an oligarchy, but very seldom when the members of the community are nearly on an equality with each other. we will assign a reason for this when we come to treat of the alterations which different states are likely to undergo. the middle state is therefore best, as being least liable to those seditions and insurrections which disturb the community; and for the same reason extensive governments are least liable to these inconveniences; for there those in a middle state are very numerous, whereas in small ones it is easy to pass to the two extremes, so as hardly to have any in a medium remaining, but the one half rich, the other poor: and from the same principle it is that democracies are more firmly established and of longer continuance than oligarchies; but even in those when there is a want of a proper number of men of middling fortune, the poor extend their power too far, abuses arise, and the government is soon at an end. we ought to consider as a proof of what i now advance, that the best lawgivers themselves were those in the middle rank of life, amongst whom was solon, as is evident from his poems, and lycurgus, for he was not a king, and charondas, and indeed most others. what has been said will show us why of so many free states some have changed to democracies, others to oligarchies: for whenever the number of those in the middle state has been too small, those who were the more numerous, whether the rich or the poor, always overpowered them and assumed to themselves the administration of public affairs; from hence arose either a democracy or an oligarchy. moreover, when in consequence of their disputes and quarrels with each other, either the rich get the better of the poor, or the poor of the rich, neither of them will establish a free state; but, as the record of their victory, one which inclines to their own principles, and form either a democracy or an oligarchy. those who made conquests in greece, having all of them an eye to the respective forms of government in their own cities, established either democracies or oligarchies, not considering what was serviceable to the state, but what was similar to their own; for which reason a government has never been established where the supreme power has been placed amongst those of the middling rank, or very seldom; and, amongst a few, one man only of those who have yet been conquerors has been persuaded to give the preference to this order of [ b] men: it is indeed an established custom with the inhabitants of most cities not to desire an equality, but either to aspire to govern, or when they are conquered, to submit. thus we have shown what the best state is, and why. it will not be difficult to perceive of the many states which there are, for we have seen that there are various forms both of democracies and oligarchies, to which we should give the first place, to which the second, and in the same manner the next also; and to observe what are the particular excellences and defects of each, after we have first described the best possible; for that must be the best which is nearest to this, that worst which is most distant from the medium, without any one has a particular plan of his own which he judges by. i mean by this, that it may happen, that although one form of government may be better than another, yet there is no reason to prevent another from being preferable thereunto in particular circumstances and for particular purposes. chapter xii after what has been said, it follows that we should now show what particular form of government is most suitable for particular persons; first laying this down as a general maxim, that that party which desires to support the actual administration of the state ought always to be superior to that which would alter it. every city is made up of quality and quantity: by quality i mean liberty, riches, education, and family, and by quantity its relative populousness: now it may happen that quality may exist in one of those parts of which the city is composed, and quantity in another; thus the number of the ignoble may be greater than the number of those of family, the number of the poor than that of the rich; but not so that the quantity of the one shall overbalance the quality of the other; those must be properly adjusted to each other; for where the number of the poor exceeds the proportion we have mentioned, there a democracy will rise up, and if the husbandry should have more power than others, it will be a democracy of husbandmen; and the democracy will be a particular species according to that class of men which may happen to be most numerous: thus, should these be the husbandmen, it will be of these, and the best; if of mechanics and those who hire themselves out, the worst possible: in the same manner it may be of any other set between these two. but when the rich and the noble prevail more by their quality than they are deficient in quantity, there an oligarchy ensues; and this oligarchy may be of different species, according to the nature of the prevailing party. every legislator in framing his constitution ought to have a particular regard to those in the middle rank of life; and if he intends an oligarchy, these should be the object of his laws; if a democracy, to these they should be entrusted; and whenever their number exceeds that of the two others, or at least one of them, they give [ a] stability to the constitution; for there is no fear that the rich and the poor should agree to conspire together against them, for neither of these will choose to serve the other. if any one would choose to fix the administration on the widest basis, he will find none preferable to this; for to rule by turns is what the rich and the poor will not submit to, on account of their hatred to each other. it is, moreover, allowed that an arbitrator is the most proper person for both parties to trust to; now this arbitrator is the middle rank. those who would establish aristocratical governments are mistaken not only in giving too much power to the rich, but also in deceiving the common people; for at last, instead of an imaginary good, they must feel a real evil, for the encroachments of the rich are more destructive to the state than those of the poor. chapter xiii there are five particulars in which, under fair pretences, the rich craftily endeavour to undermine the rights of the people, these are their public assemblies, their offices of state, their courts of justice, their military power, and their gymnastic exercises. with respect to their public assemblies, in having them open to all, but in fining the rich only, or others very little, for not attending; with respect to offices, in permitting the poor to swear off, but not granting this indulgence to those who are within the census; with respect to their courts of justice, in fining the rich for non-attendance, but the poor not at all, or those a great deal, and these very little, as was done by the laws of charondas. in some places every citizen who was enrolled had a right to attend the public assemblies and to try causes; which if they did not do, a very heavy fine was laid upon them; that through fear of the fine they might avoid being enrolled, as they were then obliged to do neither the one nor the other. the same spirit of legislation prevailed with respect to their bearing arms and their gymnastic exercises; for the poor are excused if they have no arms, but the rich are fined; the same method takes place if they do not attend their gymnastic exercises, there is no penalty on one, but there is on the other: the consequence of which is, that the fear of this penalty induces the rich to keep the one and attend the other, while the poor do neither. these are the deceitful contrivances of oligarchical legislators. the contrary prevails in a democracy; for there they make the poor a proper allowance for attending the assemblies and the courts, but give the rich nothing for doing it: whence it is evident, that if any one would properly blend these customs together, they must extend both the pay and the fine to every member of the community, and then every one would share in it, whereas part only now do. the citizens of a free state ought to [ b] consist of those only who bear arms: with respect to their census it is not easy to determine exactly what it ought to be, but the rule that should direct upon this subject should be to make it as extensive as possible, so that those who are enrolled in it make up a greater part of the people than those who are not; for those who are poor, although they partake not of the offices of the state, are willing to live quiet, provided that no one disturbs them in their property: but this is not an easy matter; for it may not always happen, that those who are at the head of public affairs are of a humane behaviour. in time of war the poor are accustomed to show no alacrity without they have provisions found them; when they have, then indeed they are willing to fight. in some governments the power is vested not only in those who bear arms, but also in those who have borne them. among the malienses the state was composed of these latter only, for all the officers were soldiers who had served their time. and the first states in greece which succeeded those where kingly power was established, were governed by the military. first of all the horse, for at that time the strength and excellence of the army depended on the horse, for as to the heavy-armed foot they were useless without proper discipline; but the art of tactics was not known to the ancients, for which reason their strength lay in their horse: but when cities grew larger, and they depended more on their foot, greater numbers partook of the freedom of the city; for which reason what we call republics were formerly called democracies. the ancient governments were properly oligarchies or kingdoms; for on account of the few persons in each state, it would have been impossible to have found a sufficient number of the middle rank; so these being but few, and those used to subordination, they more easily submitted to be governed. we have now shown why there are many sorts of governments, and others different from those we have treated of: for there are more species of democracies than one, and the like is true of other forms, and what are their differences, and whence they arise; and also of all others which is the best, at least in general; and which is best suited for particular people. chapter xiv we will now proceed to make some general reflections upon the governments next in order, and also to consider each of them in particular; beginning with those principles which appertain to each: now there are three things in all states which a careful legislator ought well to consider, which are of great consequence to all, and which properly attended to the state must necessarily be happy; and according to the variation of which the one will differ from the other. the first of these is the [ a] public assembly; the second the officers of the state, that is, who they ought to be, and with what power they should be entrusted, and in what manner they should be appointed; the third, the judicial department. now it is the proper business of the public assembly to determine concerning war and peace, making or breaking off alliances, to enact laws, to sentence to death, banishment, or confiscation of goods, and to call the magistrates to account for their behaviour when in office. now these powers must necessarily be entrusted to the citizens in general, or all of them to some; either to one magistrate or more; or some to one, and some to another, or some to all, but others to some: to entrust all to all is in the spirit of a democracy, for the people aim at equality. there are many methods of delegating these powers to the citizens at large, one of which is to let them execute them by turn, and not altogether, as was done by tellecles, the milesian, in his state. in others the supreme council is composed of the different magistrates, and they succeed to the offices of the community by proper divisions of tribes, wards, and other very small proportions, till every one in his turn goes through them: nor does the whole community ever meet together, without it is when new laws are enacted, or some national affair is debated, or to hear what the magistrates have to propose to them. another method is for the people to meet in a collective body, but only for the purpose of holding the comitia, making laws, determining concerning war or peace, and inquiring into the conduct of their magistrates, while the remaining part of the public business is conducted by the magistrates, who have their separate departments, and are chosen out of the whole community either by vote or ballot. another method is for the people in general to meet for the choice of the magistrates, and to examine into their conduct; and also to deliberate concerning war and alliances, and to leave other things to the magistrates, whoever happen to be chosen, whose particular employments are such as necessarily require persons well skilled therein. a fourth method is for every person to deliberate upon every subject in public assembly, where the magistrates can determine nothing of themselves, and have only the privilege of giving their opinions first; and this is the method of the most pure democracy, which is analogous to the proceedings in a dynastic oligarchy and a tyrannic monarchy. these, then, are the methods in which public business is conducted in a democracy. when the power is in the hands of part of the community only, it is an oligarchy and this also admits of different customs; for whenever the officers of the state are chosen out of those who have a moderate fortune, and these from that circumstance are many, and when they depart not from that line which the law has laid down, but carefully follow it, and when all within the census are eligible, certainly it is then an oligarchy, but founded on true principles of government [ b] from its moderation. when the people in general do not partake of the deliberative power, but certain persons chosen for that purpose, who govern according to law; this also, like the first, is an oligarchy. when those who have the deliberative power elect each other, and the son succeeds to the father, and when they can supersede the laws, such a government is of necessity a strict oligarchy. when some persons determine on one thing, and others on another, as war and peace, and when all inquire into the conduct of their magistrates, and other things are left to different officers, elected either by vote or lot, then the government is an aristocracy or a free state. when some are chosen by vote and others by lot, and these either from the people in general, or from a certain number elected for that purpose, or if both the votes and the lots are open to all, such a state is partly an aristocracy, partly a free government itself. these are the different methods in which the deliberative power is vested in different states, all of whom follow some regulation here laid down. it is advantageous to a democracy, in the present sense of the word, by which i mean a state wherein the people at large have a supreme power, even over the laws, to hold frequent public assemblies; and it will be best in this particular to imitate the example of oligarchies in their courts of justice; for they fine those who are appointed to try causes if they do not attend, so should they reward the poor for coming to the public assemblies: and their counsels will be best when all advise with each other, the citizens with the nobles, the nobles with the citizens. it is also advisable when the council is to be composed of part of the citizens, to elect, either by vote or lot, an equal number of both ranks. it is also proper, if the common people in the state are very numerous, either not to pay every one for his attendance, but such a number only as will make them equal to the nobles, or to reject many of them by lot. in an oligarchy they should either call up some of the common people to the council, or else establish a court, as is done in some other states, whom they call pre-advisers or guardians of the laws, whose business should be to propose first what they should afterwards enact. by this means the people would have a place in the administration of public affairs, without having it in their power to occasion any disorder in the government. moreover, the people may be allowed to have a vote in whatever bill is proposed, but may not themselves propose anything contrary thereto; or they may give their advice, while the power of determining may be with the magistrates only. it is also necessary to follow a contrary practice to what is established in democracies, for the people should be allowed the power of pardoning, but not of condemning, for the cause should be referred back again to the magistrates: whereas the contrary takes place in republics; for the power of pardoning is with the few, but not of condemning, which is always referred [ a] to the people at large. and thus we determine concerning the deliberative power in any state, and in whose hands it shall be. chapter xv we now proceed to consider the choice of magistrates; for this branch of public business contains many different parts, as how many there shall be, what shall be their particular office, and with respect to time how long each of them shall continue in place; for some make it six months, others shorter, others for a year, others for a much longer time; or whether they should be perpetual or for a long time, or neither; for the same person may fill the same office several times, or he may not be allowed to enjoy it even twice, but only once: and also with respect to the appointment of magistrates, who are to be eligible, who is to choose them, and in what manner; for in all these particulars we ought properly to distinguish the different ways which may be followed; and then to show which of these is best suited to such and such governments. now it is not easy to determine to whom we ought properly to give the name of magistrate, for a government requires many persons in office; but every one of those who is either chosen by vote or lot is not to be reckoned a magistrate. the priests, for instance, in the first place; for these are to be considered as very different from civil magistrates: to these we may add the choregi and heralds; nay, even ambassadors are elected: there are some civil employments which belong to the citizens; and these are either when they are all engaged in one thing, as when as soldiers they obey their general, or when part of them only are, as in governing the women or educating the youth; and also some economic, for they often elect corn-meters: others are servile, and in which, if they are rich, they employ slaves. but indeed they are most properly called magistrates, who are members of the deliberative council, or decide causes, or are in some command, the last more especially, for to command is peculiar to magistrates. but to speak truth, this question is of no great consequence, nor is it the province of the judges to decide between those who dispute about words; it may indeed be an object of speculative inquiry; but to inquire what officers are necessary in a state, and how many, and what, though not most necessary, may yet be advantageous in a well-established government, is a much more useful employment, and this with respect to all states in general, as well as to small cities. in extensive governments it is proper to allot one employment to one person, as there are many to serve the public in so numerous a society, where some may be passed over for a long time, and others never be in office but once; and indeed everything is better done which has the whole attention of one person, than when that [ b] attention is divided amongst many; but in small states it is necessary that a few of the citizens should execute many employments; for their numbers are so small it will not be convenient to have many of them in office at the same time; for where shall we find others to succeed them in turn? small states will sometimes want the same magistrates and the same laws as large ones; but the one will not want to employ them so often as the other; so that different charges may be intrusted to the same person without any inconvenience, for they will not interfere with each other, and for want of sufficient members in the community it will be necessary. if we could tell how many magistrates are necessary in every city, and how many, though not necessary, it is yet proper to have, we could then the better know how many different offices one might assign to one magistrate. it is also necessary to know what tribunals in different places should have different things under their jurisdiction, and also what things should always come under the cognisance of the same magistrate; as, for instance, decency of manners, shall the clerk of the market take cognisance of that if the cause arises in the market, and another magistrate in another place, or the same magistrate everywhere: or shall there be a distinction made of the fact, or the parties? as, for instance, in decency of manners, shall it be one cause when it relates to a man, another when it relates to a woman? in different states shall the magistrates be different or the same? i mean, whether in a democracy, an oligarchy, an aristocracy, and a monarchy, the same persons shall have the same power? or shall it vary according to the different formation of the government? as in an aristocracy the offices of the state are allotted to those who are well educated; in an oligarchy to those who are rich; in a democracy to the freemen? or shall the magistrates differ as the communities differ? for it may happen that the very same may be sometimes proper, sometimes otherwise: in this state it may be necessary that the magistrate have great powers, in that but small. there are also certain magistrates peculiar to certain states--as the pre-advisers are not proper in a democracy, but a senate is; for one such order is necessary, whose business shall be to consider beforehand and prepare those bills which shall be brought before the people that they may have leisure to attend to their own affairs; and when these are few in number the state inclines to an oligarchy. the pre-advisers indeed must always be few for they are peculiar to an oligarchy: and where there are both these offices in the same state, the pre-adviser's is superior to the senator's, the one having only a democratical power, the other an oligarchical: and indeed the [ a] power of the senate is lost in those democracies, in which the people, meeting in one public assembly, take all the business into their own hands; and this is likely to happen either when the community in general are in easy circumstances, or when they are paid for their attendance; for they are then at leisure often to meet together and determine everything for themselves. a magistrate whose business is to control the manners of the boys, or women, or who takes any department similar to this, is to be found in an aristocracy, not in a democracy; for who can forbid the wives of the poor from appearing in public? neither is such a one to be met with in an oligarchy; for the women there are too delicate to bear control. and thus much for this subject. let us endeavour to treat at large of the establishment of magistrates, beginning from first principles. now, they differ from each other in three ways, from which, blended together, all the varieties which can be imagined arise. the first of these differences is in those who appoint the magistrates, the second consists in those who are appointed, the third in the mode of appointment; and each of these three differ in three manners; for either all the citizens may appoint collectively, or some out of their whole body, or some out of a particular order in it, according to fortune, family, or virtue, or some other rule (as at megara, where the right of election was amongst those who had returned together to their country, and had reinstated themselves by force of arms) and this either by vote or lot. again, these several modes may be differently formed together, as some magistrates may be chosen by part of the community, others by the whole; some out of part, others out of the whole; some by vote, others by lot: and each of these different modes admit of a four-fold subdivision; for either all may elect all by vote or by lot; and when all elect, they may either proceed without any distinction, or they may elect by a certain division of tribes, wards, or companies, till they have gone through the whole community: and some magistrates may be elected one way, and others another. again, if some magistrates are elected either by vote or lot of all the citizens, or by the vote of some and the lot of some, or some one way and some another; that is to say, some by the vote of all, others by the lot of all, there will then be twelve different methods of electing the magistrates, without blending the two together. of these there are two adapted to a democracy; namely, to have all the magistrates chosen out of all the people, either by vote or lot, or both; that is to say, some of them by lot, some by vote. in a free state the whole community should not elect at the same time, but some out of the whole, or out of some particular rank; and this either by lot, or vote, or both: and they should elect either out of the whole community, or out of some particular persons in it, and this both by lot and vote. in an oligarchy it is proper to choose some magistrates out of the whole body of the citizens, some by vote, some by lot, others by both: by lot is most correspondent to that form of government. in a free aristocracy, some magistrates [ b] should be chosen out of the community in general, others out of a particular rank, or these by choice, those by lot. in a pure oligarchy, the magistrates should be chosen out of certain ranks, and by certain persons, and some of those by lot, others by both methods; but to choose them out of the whole community is not correspondent to the nature of this government. it is proper in an aristocracy for the whole community to elect their magistrates out of particular persons, and this by vote. these then are all the different ways of electing of magistrates; and they have been allotted according to the nature of the different communities; but what mode of proceeding is proper for different communities, or how the offices ought to be established, or with what powers shall be particularly explained. i mean by the powers of a magistrate, what should be his particular province, as the management of the finances or the laws of the state; for different magistrates have different powers, as that of the general of the army differs from the clerk of the market. chapter xvi of the three parts of which a government is formed, we now come to consider the judicial; and this also we shall divide in the same manner as we did the magisterial, into three parts. of whom the judges shall consist, and for what causes, and how. when i say of whom, i mean whether they shall be the whole people, or some particulars; by for what causes i mean, how many different courts shall be appointed; by how, whether they shall be elected by vote or lot. let us first determine how many different courts there ought to be. now these are eight. the first of these is the court of inspection over the behaviour of the magistrates when they have quitted their office; the second is to punish those who have injured the public; the third is to take cognisance of those causes in which the state is a party; the fourth is to decide between magistrates and private persons, who appeal from a fine laid upon them; the fifth is to determine disputes which may arise concerning contracts of great value; the sixth is to judge between foreigners, and of murders, of which there are different species; and these may all be tried by the same judges or by different ones; for there are murders of malice prepense and of chance-medley; there is also justifiable homicide, where the fact is admitted, and the legality of it disputed. there is also another court called at athens the court of phreattae, which determines points relating to a murder committed by one who has run away, to decide whether he shall return; though such an affair happens but seldom, and in very large cities; the seventh, to determine causes wherein strangers are concerned, and this whether they are between stranger and stranger or between a stranger and a citizen. the eighth and last is for small actions, from one to five drachma's, or a little more; for these ought also to be legally determined, but not to be brought before the whole body of the judges. but without entering into any particulars concerning actions for murder, and those wherein strangers are the parties, let us particularly treat of those courts which have the jurisdiction of those matters which more particularly relate to the affairs of the community and which if not well conducted occasion seditions and commotions in the state. now, of necessity, either all persons must have a right to judge of all these different causes, appointed for that purpose, either by vote or lot, or all of all, some of them by vote, and others by lot, or in some causes by vote, in others by lot. thus there will be four sorts of judges. there [ a] will be just the same number also if they are chosen out of part of the people only; for either all the judges must be chosen out of that part either by vote or lot, or some by lot and some by vote, or the judges in particular causes must be chosen some by vote, others by lot; by which means there will be the same number of them also as was mentioned. besides, different judges may be joined together; i mean those who are chosen out of the whole people or part of them or both; so that all three may sit together in the same court, and this either by vote, lot, or both. and thus much for the different sorts of judges. of these appointments that which admits all the community to be judges in all causes is most suitable to a democracy; the second, which appoints that certain persons shall judge all causes, to an oligarchy; the third, which appoints the whole community to be judges in some causes, but particular persons in others, to an aristocracy or free state. book v chapter i we have now gone through those particulars we proposed to speak of; it remains that we next consider from what causes and how alterations in government arise, and of what nature they are, and to what the destruction of each state is owing; and also to what form any form of polity is most likely to shift into, and what are the means to be used for the general preservation of governments, as well as what are applicable to any particular state; and also of the remedies which are to be applied either to all in general, or to any one considered separately, when they are in a state of corruption: and here we ought first to lay down this principle, that there are many governments, all of which approve of what is just and what is analogically equal; and yet have failed from attaining thereunto, as we have already mentioned; thus democracies have arisen from supposing that those who are equal in one thing are so in every other circumstance; as, because they are equal in liberty, they are equal in everything else; and oligarchies, from supposing that those who are unequal in one thing are unequal in all; that when men are so in point of fortune, that inequality extends to everything else. hence it follows, that those who in some respects are equal with others think it right to endeavour to partake of an equality with them in everything; and those who are superior to others endeavour to get still more; and it is this more which is the inequality: thus most states, though they have some notion of what is just, yet are almost totally wrong; and, upon this account, when either party has not that share in the administration which answers to his expectations, he becomes seditious: but those who of all others have the greatest right to be so are the last that are; namely, those who excel in virtue; for they alone can be called generally superior. there are, too, some persons of distinguished families who, because they are so, disdain to be on an equality with others, for those esteem themselves noble who boast of their ancestors' merit and fortune: these, to speak truth, are the origin and fountain from whence seditions arise. the alterations which men may propose to make in governments are two; for either they may change the state already established into some other, as when they propose to erect an oligarchy where there is a democracy; or a democracy, or free state, where there is an oligarchy, or an aristocracy from these, or those from that; or else, when they have no objection to the established government, which they like very well, but choose to have the sole management in it themselves; either in the hands of a few or one only. they will also raise commotions concerning the degree in which they would have the established power; as if, for instance, the government is an oligarchy, to have it more purely so, and in the same manner if it is a democracy, or else to have it less so; and, in like manner, whatever may be the nature of the government, either to extend or contract its powers; or else to make some alterations in some parts of it; as to establish or abolish a particular magistracy, as some persons say lysander endeavoured to abolish the kingly power in sparta; and pausanias that of the ephori. thus in epidamnus there was an alteration in one part of the constitution, for instead of the philarchi they established a senate. it is also necessary for all the magistrates at athens; to attend in the court of the helisea when any new magistrate is created: the power of the archon also in that state partakes of the nature of an oligarchy: inequality is always the occasion of sedition, but not when those who are unequal are treated in a different manner correspondent to that inequality. thus kingly power is unequal when exercised over equals. upon the whole, those who aim after an equality are the cause of seditions. equality is twofold, either in number or value. equality in number is when two things contain the same parts or the same quantity; equality in value is by proportion as two exceeds one, and three two by the same number-thus by proportion four exceeds two, and two one in the same degree, for two is the same part of four that one is of two; that is to say, half. now, all agree in what is absolutely and simply just; but, as we have already said they dispute concerning proportionate value; for some persons, if they are equal in one respect, think themselves equal in all; others, if they are superior in one thing, think they may claim the superiority in all; from whence chiefly arise two sorts of governments, a democracy and an oligarchy; for nobility and virtue are to be found only [ a] amongst a few; the contrary amongst the many; there being in no place a hundred of the first to be met with, but enough of the last everywhere. but to establish a government entirely upon either of these equalities is wrong, and this the example of those so established makes evident, for none of them have been stable; and for this reason, that it is impossible that whatever is wrong at the first and in its principles should not at last meet with a bad end: for which reason in some things an equality of numbers ought to take place, in others an equality in value. however, a democracy is safer and less liable to sedition than an oligarchy; for in this latter it may arise from two causes, for either the few in power may conspire against each other or against the people; but in a democracy only one; namely, against the few who aim at exclusive power; but there is no instance worth speaking of, of a sedition of the people against themselves. moreover, a government composed of men of moderate fortunes comes much nearer to a democracy than an oligarchy, and is the safest of all such states. chapter ii since we are inquiring into the causes of seditions and revolutions in governments, we must begin entirely with the first principles from whence they arise. now these, so to speak, are nearly three in number; which we must first distinguish in general from each other, and endeavour to show in what situation people are who begin a sedition; and for what causes; and thirdly, what are the beginnings of political troubles and mutual quarrels with each other. now that cause which of all others most universally inclines men to desire to bring about a change in government is that which i have already mentioned; for those who aim at equality will be ever ready for sedition, if they see those whom they esteem their equals possess more than they do, as well as those also who are not content with equality but aim at superiority, if they think that while they deserve more than, they have only equal with, or less than, their inferiors. now, what they aim at may be either just or unjust; just, when those who are inferior are seditious, that they may be equal; unjust, when those who are equal are so, that they may be superior. these, then, are the situations in which men will be seditious: the causes for which they will be so are profit and honour; and their contrary: for, to avoid dishonour or loss of fortune by mulcts, either on their own account or their friends, they will raise a commotion in the state. the original causes which dispose men to the things which i have mentioned are, taken in one manner, seven in number, in another they are more; two of which are the same with those that have been already mentioned: but influencing in a different manner; for profit and honour sharpen men against each other; not to get the possession of them for themselves (which was what i just now supposed), but when they see others, some justly, others [ b] unjustly, engrossing them. the other causes are haughtiness, fear, eminence, contempt, disproportionate increase in some part of the state. there are also other things which in a different manner will occasion revolutions in governments; as election intrigues, neglect, want of numbers, a too great dissimilarity of circumstances. chapter iii what influence ill-treatment and profit have for this purpose, and how they may be the causes of sedition, is almost self-evident; for when the magistrates are haughty and endeavour to make greater profits than their office gives them, they not only occasion seditions amongst each other, but against the state also who gave them their power; and this their avarice has two objects, either private property or the property of the state. what influence honours have, and how they may occasion sedition, is evident enough; for those who are themselves unhonoured while they see others honoured, will be ready for any disturbance: and these things are done unjustly when any one is either honoured or discarded contrary to their deserts, justly when they are according to them. excessive honours are also a cause of sedition when one person or more are greater than the state and the power of the government can permit; for then a monarchy or a dynasty is usually established: on which account the ostracism was introduced in some places, as at argos and athens: though it is better to guard against such excesses in the founding of a state, than when they have been permitted to take place, to correct them afterward. those who have been guilty of crimes will be the cause of sedition, through fear of punishment; as will those also who expect an injury, that they may prevent it; as was the case at rhodes, when the nobles conspired against the people on account of the decrees they expected would pass against them. contempt also is a cause of sedition and conspiracies; as in oligarchies, where there are many who have no share in the administration. the rich also even in democracies, despising the disorder and anarchy which will arise, hope to better themselves by the same means which happened at thebes after the battle of oenophyta, where, in consequence of bad administration, the democracy was destroyed; as it was at megara, where the power of the people was lost through anarchy and disorder; the same thing happened at syracuse before the tyranny of gelon; and at rhodes there was the same sedition before the popular government was overthrown. revolutions in state will also arise from a disproportionate increase; for as the body consists of many parts, it ought to increase proportion-ably to preserve its symmetry, which would otherwise be destroyed; as if the foot was to be four cubits long, and the rest of the body but two palms; it might otherwise [ a] be changed into an animal of a different form, if it increase beyond proportion not only in quantity, but also in disposition of parts; so also a city consists of parts, some of which may often increase without notice, as the number of poor in democracies and free states. they will also sometimes happen by accident, as at tarentum, a little after the median war, where so many of the nobles were killed in a battle by the lapygi, that from a free state the government was turned into a democracy; and at argos, where so many of the citizens were killed by cleomenes the spartan, that they were obliged to admit several husbandmen to the freedom of the state: and at athens, through the unfortunate event of the infantry battles, the number of the nobles was reduced by the soldiers being chosen from the list of citizens in the lacedaemonian wars. revolutions also sometimes take place in a democracy, though seldomer; for where the rich grow numerous or properties increase, they become oligarchies or dynasties. governments also sometimes alter without seditions by a combination of the meaner people; as at hersea: for which purpose they changed the mode of election from votes to lots, and thus got themselves chosen: and by negligence, as when the citizens admit those who are not friends to the constitution into the chief offices of the state, which happened at orus, when the oligarchy of the archons was put an end to at the election of heracleodorus, who changed that form of government into a democratic free state. by little and little, i mean by this, that very often great alterations silently take place in the form of government from people's overlooking small matters; as at ambracia, where the census was originally small, but at last became nothing at all, as if a little and nothing at all were nearly or entirely alike. that state also is liable to seditions which is composed of different nations, till their differences are blended together and undistinguishable; for as a city cannot be composed of every multitude, so neither can it in every given time; for which reason all those republics which have hitherto been originally composed of different people or afterwards admitted their neighbours to the freedom of their city, have been most liable to revolutions; as when the achaeans joined with the traezenians in founding sybaris; for soon after, growing more powerful than the traezenians, they expelled them from the city; from whence came the proverb of sybarite wickedness: and again, disputes from a like cause happened at thurium between the sybarites and those who had joined with them in building the city; for they assuming upon these, on account of the country being their own, were driven out. and at byzantium the new citizens, being detected in plots against the state, were driven out of the city by force of arms. the antisseans also, having taken in those who were banished from chios, afterwards did the same thing; and also the zancleans, after having taken in the people of samos. the appolloniats, in the euxine sea, having admitted their sojourners to the freedom of their city, were troubled with seditions: and the syracusians, after the expulsion of their tyrants, having enrolled [ b] strangers and mercenaries amongst their citizens, quarrelled with each other and came to an open rupture: and the people of amphipolis, having taken in a colony of chalcidians, were the greater part of them driven out of the city by them. many persons occasion seditions in oligarchies because they think themselves ill-used in not sharing the honours of the state with their equals, as i have already mentioned; but in democracies the principal people do the same because they have not more than an equal share with others who are not equal to them. the situation of the place will also sometimes occasion disturbances in the state when the ground is not well adapted for one city; as at clazomene, where the people who lived in that part of the town called chytrum quarrelled with them who lived in the island, and the colophonians with the notians. at athens too the disposition of the citizens is not the same, for those who live in the piraeus are more attached to a popular government than those who live in the city properly so called; for as the interposition of a rivulet, however small, will occasion the line of the phalanx to fluctuate, so any trifling disagreement will be the cause of seditions; but they will not so soon flow from anything else as from the disagreement between virtue and vice, and next to that between poverty and riches, and so on in order, one cause having more influence than another; one of which that i last mentioned. chapter iv but seditions in government do not arise for little things, but from them; for their immediate cause is something of moment. now, trifling quarrels are attended with the greatest consequences when they arise between persons of the first distinction in the state, as was the case with the syracusians in a remote period; for a revolution in the government was brought about by a quarrel between two young men who were in office, upon a love affair; for one of them being absent, the other seduced his mistress; he in his turn, offended with this, persuaded his friend's wife to come and live with him; and upon this the whole city took part either with the one or the other, and the government was overturned: therefore every one at the beginning of such disputes ought to take care to avoid the consequences; and to smother up all quarrels which may happen to arise amongst those in power, for the mischief lies in the beginning; for the beginning is said to be half of the business, so that what was then but a little fault will be found afterwards to bear its full proportion to what follows. moreover, disputes between men of note involve the whole city in their consequences; in hestiaea, after the median war: two brothers having a dispute about their paternal estate; he who was the poorer, from the other's having concealed part of the effects, and some money which his father had found, engaged the popular party on his side, while the other, who was rich, the men of fashion. and at delphos, [ a] a quarrel about a wedding was the beginning of all the seditions that afterwards arose amongst them; for the bridegroom, being terrified by some unlucky omen upon waiting upon the bride, went away without marrying her; which her relations resenting, contrived secretly to convey some sacred money into his pocket while he was sacrificing, and then killed him as an impious person. at mitylene also, a dispute, which arose concerning a right of heritage, was the beginning of great evils, and a war with the athenians, in which paches took their city, for timophanes, a man of fortune, leaving two daughters, doxander, who was circumvented in procuring them in marriage for his two sons, began a sedition, and excited the athenians to attack them, being the host of that state. there was also a dispute at phocea, concerning a right of inheritance, between mnasis, the father of mnasis, and euthucrates, the father of onomarchus, which brought on the phoceans the sacred war. the government too of epidamnus was changed from a quarrel that arose from an intended marriage; for a certain man having contracted his daughter in marriage, the father of the young person to whom she was contracted, being archon, punishes him, upon which account he, resenting the affront, associated himself with those who were excluded from any share in the government, and brought about a revolution. a government may be changed either into an oligarchy, democracy, or a free state; when the magistrates, or any part of the city acquire great credit, or are increased in power, as the court of areopagus at athens, having procured great credit during the median war, added firmness to their administration; and, on the other hand, the maritime force, composed of the commonalty, having gained the victory at salamis, by their power at sea, got the lead in the state, and strengthened the popular party: and at argos, the nobles, having gained great credit by the battle of mantinea against the lacedaemonians, endeavoured to dissolve the democracy. and at syracuse, the victory in their war with the athenians being owing to the common people, they changed their free state into a democracy: and at chalcis, the people having taken off the tyrant phocis, together with the nobles, immediately seized the government: and at ambracia also the people, having expelled the tyrant periander, with his party, placed the supreme power in themselves. and this in general ought to be known, that whosoever has been the occasion of a state being powerful, whether private persons, or magistrates, a certain tribe, or any particular part of the citizens, or the multitude, be they who they will, will be the cause of disputes in the state. for either some persons, who envy them the honours they have acquired, will begin to be seditious, or they, on account of the dignity they have acquired, will not be content with their former equality. a state is also liable to commotions when those parts of it which seem to be opposite to each other approach to an [ b] equality, as the rich and the common people; so that the part which is between them both is either nothing at all, or too little to be noticed; for if one party is so much more powerful than the other, as to be evidently stronger, that other will not be willing to hazard the danger: for which reason those who are superior in excellence and virtue will never be the cause of seditions; for they will be too few for that purpose when compared to the many. in general, the beginning and the causes of seditions in all states are such as i have now described, and revolutions therein are brought about in two ways, either by violence or fraud: if by violence, either at first by compelling them to submit to the change when it is made. it may also be brought about by fraud in two different ways, either when the people, being at first deceived, willingly consent to an alteration in their government, and are afterwards obliged by force to abide by it: as, for instance, when the four hundred imposed upon the people by telling them that the king of persia would supply them with money for the war against the lacedaemonians; and after they had been guilty of this falsity, they endeavoured to keep possession of the supreme power; or when they are at first persuaded and afterwards consent to be governed: and by one of these methods which i have mentioned are all revolutions in governments brought about. chapter v we ought now to inquire into those events which will arise from these causes in every species of government. democracies will be most subject to revolutions from the dishonesty of their demagogues; for partly, by informing against men of property, they induce them to join together through self-defence, for a common fear will make the greatest enemies unite; and partly by setting the common people against them: and this is what any one may continually see practised in many states. in the island of cos, for instance, the democracy was subverted by the wickedness of the demagogues, for the nobles entered into a combination with each other. and at rhodes the demagogues, by distributing of bribes, prevented the people from paying the trierarchs what was owing to them, who were obliged by the number of actions they were harassed with to conspire together and destroy the popular state. the same thing was brought about at heraclea, soon after the settlement of the city, by the same persons; for the citizens of note, being ill treated by them, quitted the city, but afterwards joining together they returned and overthrew the popular state. just in the same manner the democracy was destroyed in megara; for there the demagogues, to procure money by confiscations, drove out the nobles, till the number of those who were banished was considerable, who, [ a] returning, got the better of the people in a battle, and established an oligarchy. the like happened at cume, during the time of the democracy, which thrasymachus destroyed; and whoever considers what has happened in other states may perceive the same revolutions to have arisen from the same causes. the demagogues, to curry favour with the people, drive the nobles to conspire together, either by dividing their estates, or obliging them to spend them on public services, or by banishing them, that they may confiscate the fortunes of the wealthy. in former times, when the same person was both demagogue and general, the democracies were changed into tyrannies; and indeed most of the ancient tyrannies arose from those states: a reason for which then subsisted, but not now; for at that time the demagogues were of the soldiery; for they were not then powerful by their eloquence; but, now the art of oratory is cultivated, the able speakers are at present the demagogues; but, as they are unqualified to act in a military capacity, they cannot impose themselves on the people as tyrants, if we except in one or two trifling instances. formerly, too, tyrannies were more common than now, on account of the very extensive powers with which some magistrates were entrusted: as the prytanes at miletus; for they were supreme in many things of the last consequence; and also because at that time the cities were not of that very great extent, the people in general living in the country, and being employed in husbandry, which gave them, who took the lead in public affairs, an opportunity, if they had a turn for war, to make themselves tyrants; which they all did when they had gained the confidence of the people; and this confidence was their hatred to the rich. this was the case of pisistratus at athens, when he opposed the pediaci: and of theagenes in megara, who slaughtered the cattle belonging to the rich, after he had seized those who kept them by the riverside. dionysius also, for accusing daphnseus and the rich, was thought worthy of being raised to a tyranny, from the confidence which the people had of his being a popular man in consequence of these enmities. a government shall also alter from its ancient and approved democratic form into one entirely new, if there is no census to regulate the election of magistrates; for, as the election is with the people, the demagogues who are desirous of being in office, to flatter them, will endeavour with all their power to make the people superior even to the laws. to prevent this entirely, or at least in a great measure, the magistrates should be elected by the tribes, and not by the people at large. these are nearly the revolutions to which democracies are liable, and also the causes from whence they arise. chapter vi there are two things which of all others most evidently occasion a revolution in an oligarchy; one is, when the people are ill used, for then every individual is ripe for [ b] sedition; more particularly if one of the oligarchy should happen to be their leader; as lygdamis, at naxus, who was afterwards tyrant of that island. seditions also which arise from different causes will differ from each other; for sometimes a revolution is brought about by the rich who have no share in the administration, which is in the hands of a very few indeed: and this happened at massilia, ister, heraclea, and other cities; for those who had no share in the government ceased not to raise disputes till they were admitted to it: first the elder brothers, and then the younger also: for in some places the father and son are never in office at the same time; in others the elder and younger brother: and where this is observed the oligarchy partakes something of a free state. at ister it was changed into a democracy; in heraclea, instead of being in the hands of a few, it consisted of six hundred. at cnidus the oligarchy was destroyed by the nobles quarrelling with each other, because the government was in the hands of so few: for there, as we have just mentioned, if the father was in office, the son could not; or, if there were many brothers, the eldest only; for the people, taking advantage of their disputes, elected one of the nobles for their general, and got the victory: for where there are seditions government is weak. and formerly at erithria, during the oligarchy of the basilides, although the state flourished greatly under their excellent management, yet because the people were displeased that the power should be in the hands of so few, they changed the government. oligarchies also are subject to revolutions, from those who are in office therein, from the quarrels of the demagogues with each other. the demagogues are of two sorts; one who flatter the few when they are in power: for even these have their demagogues; such was charicles at athens, who had great influence over the thirty; and, in the same manner, phrynichus over the four hundred. the others are those demagogues who have a share in the oligarchy, and flatter the people: such were the state-guardians at larissa, who flattered the people because they were elected by them. and this will always happen in every oligarchy where the magistrates do not elect themselves, but are chosen out of men either of great fortune or certain ranks, by the soldiers or by the people; as was the custom at abydos. and when the judicial department is not in the hands of the supreme power, the demagogues, favouring the people in their causes, overturn the government; which happened at heraclea in pontus: and also when some desire to contract the power of the oligarchy into fewer hands; for those who endeavour to support an equality are obliged to apply to the people for assistance. an oligarchy is also subject to revolutions when the nobility spend their fortunes by luxury; for such persons are desirous of innovations, and either endeavour to be tyrants themselves or to support others in being so, as [ a] hypparinus supported dionysius of syracuse. and at amphipolis one cleotimus collected a colony of chalcidians, and when they came set them to quarrel with the rich: and at aegina a certain person who brought an action against chares attempted on that account to alter the government. sometimes they will try to raise commotions, sometimes they will rob the public, and then quarrel with each other, or else fight with those who endeavour to detect them; which was the case at apollonia in pontus. but if the members of an oligarchy agree among themselves the state is not very easily destroyed without some external force. pharsalus is a proof of this, where, though the place is small, yet the citizens have great power, from the prudent use they make of it. an oligarchy also will be destroyed when they create another oligarchy under it; that is, when the management of public affairs is in the hands of a few, and not equally, but when all of them do not partake of the supreme power, as happened once at elis, where the supreme power in general was in the hands of a very few out of whom a senate was chosen, consisting but of ninety, who held their places for life; and their mode of election was calculated to preserve the power amongst each other's families, like the senators at lacedaemon. an oligarchy is liable to a revolution both in time of war and peace; in war, because through a distrust in the citizens the government is obliged to employ mercenary troops, and he to whom they give the command of the army will very often assume the tyranny, as timophanes did at corinth; and if they appoint more than one general, they will very probably establish a dynasty: and sometimes, through fear of this, they are forced to let the people in general have some share in the government, because they are obliged to employ them. in peace, from their want of confidence in each other, they will entrust the guardianship of the state to mercenaries and their general, who will be an arbiter between them, and sometimes become master of both, which happened at larissa, when simos and the aleuadae had the chief power. the same thing happened at abydos, during the time of the political clubs, of which iphiades' was one. commotions also will happen in an oligarchy from one party's overbearing and insulting another, or from their quarrelling about their law-suits or marriages. how their marriages, for instance, will have that effect has been already shown: and in eretria, diagoras destroyed the oligarchy of the knights upon the same account. a sedition also arose at heraclea, from a certain person being condemned by the court; and at thebes, in consequence of a man's being guilty of adultery; [ b] the punishment indeed which eurytion suffered at heraclea was just, yet it was illegally executed: as was that at thebes upon archias; for their enemies endeavoured to have them publicly bound in the pillory. many revolutions also have been brought about in oligarchies by those who could not brook the despotism which those persons assumed who were in power, as at cnidus and chios. changes also may happen by accident in what we call a free state and in an oligarchy; wheresoever the senators, judges, and magistrates are chosen according to a certain census; for it often happens that the highest census is fixed at first; so that a few only could have a share in the government, in an oligarchy, or in a free state those of moderate fortunes only; when the city grows rich, through peace or some other happy cause, it becomes so little that every one's fortune is equal to the census, so that the whole community may partake of all the honours of government; and this change sometimes happens by little and little, and insensible approaches, sometimes quicker. these are the revolutions and seditions that arise in oligarchies, and the causes to which they are owing: and indeed both democracies and oligarchies sometimes alter, not into governments of a contrary form, but into those of the same government; as, for instance, from having the supreme power in the law to vest it in the ruling party, or the contrariwise. chapter vii commotions also arise in aristocracies, from there being so few persons in power (as we have already observed they do in oligarchies, for in this particular an aristocracy is most near an oligarchy, for in both these states the administration of public affairs is in the hands of a few; not that this arises from the same cause in both, though herein they chiefly seem alike): and these will necessarily be most likely to happen when the generality of the people are high-spirited and think themselves equal to each other in merit; such were those at lacedasmon, called the partheniae (for these were, as well as others, descendants of citizens), who being detected in a conspiracy against the state, were sent to found tarentum. they will happen also when some great men are disgraced by those who have received higher honours than themselves, to whom they are no ways inferior in abilities, as lysander by the kings: or when an ambitious man cannot get into power, as cinadon, who, in the reign of agesilaus, was chief in a conspiracy against the spartans: and also when some are too poor and others too rich, which will most frequently happen in time of war; as at lacedaemon during the messenian war, which is proved by a poem of tyrtaeus, [ a] called "eunomia;" for some persons being reduced thereby, desired that the lands might be divided: and also when some person of very high rank might still be higher if he could rule alone, which seemed to be pausanias's intention at lacedaemon, when he was their general in the median war, and anno's at carthage. but free states and aristocracies are mostly destroyed from want of a fixed administration of public affairs; the cause of which evil arises at first from want of a due mixture of the democratic and the oligarchic parts in a free state; and in an aristocracy from the same causes, and also from virtue not being properly joined to power; but chiefly from the two first, i mean the undue mixture of the democratic and oligarchic parts; for these two are what all free states endeavour to blend together, and many of those which we call aristocracies, in this particular these states differ from each other, and on this account the one of them is less stable than the other, for that state which inclines most to an oligarchy is called an aristocracy, and that which inclines most to a democracy is called a free state; on which account this latter is more secure than the former, for the wider the foundation the securer the building, and it is ever best to live where equality prevails. but the rich, if the community gives them rank, very often endeavour to insult and tyrannise over others. on the whole, whichever way a government inclines, in that it will settle, each party supporting their own. thus a free state will become a democracy; an aristocracy an oligarchy; or the contrary, an aristocracy may change into a democracy (for the poor, if they think themselves injured, directly take part with the contrary side) and a free state into an oligarchy. the only firm state is that where every one enjoys that equality he has a right to and fully possesses what is his own. and what i have been speaking of happened to the thurians; for the magistrates being elected according to a very high census, it was altered to a lower, and they were subdivided into more courts, but in consequence of the nobles possessing all the land, contrary to law; the state was too much of an oligarchy, which gave them an opportunity of encroaching greatly on the rest of the people; but these, after they had been well inured to war, so far got the better of their guards as to expel every one out of the country who possessed more than he ought. moreover, as all aristocracies are free oligarchies, the nobles therein endeavour to have rather too much power, as at lacedaemon, where property is now in the hands of a few, and the nobles have too much liberty to do as they please and make such alliances as they please. thus the city of the locrians was ruined from an alliance with dionysius; which state was neither a democracy nor well-tempered aristocracy. but an aristocracy chiefly approaches to a secret change by its being destroyed by degrees, as we [ b] have already said of all governments in general; and this happens from the cause of the alteration being trifling; for whenever anything which in the least regards the state is treated with contempt, after that something else, and this of a little more consequence, will be more easily altered, until the whole fabric of government is entirely subverted, which happened in the government of thurium; for the law being that they should continue soldiers for five years, some young men of a martial disposition, who were in great esteem amongst their officers, despising those who had the management of public affairs, and imagining they could easily accomplish their intention, first endeavoured to abolish this law, with a view of having it lawful to continue the same person perpetually in the military, perceiving that the people would readily appoint them. upon this, the magistrates who are called counselors first joined together with an intention to oppose it but were afterwards induced to agree to it, from a belief that if that law was not repealed they would permit the management of all other public affairs to remain in their hands; but afterwards, when they endeavoured to restrain some fresh alterations that were making, they found that they could do nothing, for the whole form of government was altered into a dynasty of those who first introduced the innovations. in short, all governments are liable to be destroyed either from within or from without; from without when they have for their neighbour a state whose policy is contrary to theirs, and indeed if it has great power the same thing will happen if it is not their neighbour; of which both the athenians and the lacedaemonians are a proof; for the one, when conquerors everywhere destroyed the oligarchies; the other the democracies. these are the chief causes of revolutions and dissensions in governments. chapter viii we are now to consider upon what the preservation of governments in general and of each state in particular depends; and, in the first place, it is evident that if we are right in the causes we have assigned for their destruction, we know also the means of their preservation; for things contrary produce contraries: but destruction and preservation are contrary to each other. in well-tempered governments it requires as much care as anything whatsoever, that nothing be done contrary to law: and this ought chiefly to be attended to in matters of small consequence; for an illegality that approaches insensibly, approaches secretly, as in a family small expenses continually repeated consume a man's income; for the understanding is deceived thereby, as by this false argument; if every part is little, then the whole is little: now, this in one sense is true, in another is false, for the whole and all the parts together are large, though made up of small parts. the first therefore of anything is what the state ought to guard against. in the next place, no credit ought to be given to those who endeavour to deceive the people with false pretences; for they will be [ a] confuted by facts. the different ways in which they will attempt to do this have been already mentioned. you may often perceive both aristocracies and oligarchies continuing firm, not from the stability of their forms of government, but from the wise conduct of the magistrates, both towards those who have a part in the management of public affairs, and those also who have not: towards those who have not, by never injuring them; and also introducing those who are of most consequence amongst them into office; nor disgracing those who are desirous of honour; or encroaching on the property of individuals; towards those who have, by behaving to each other upon an equality; for that equality which the favourers of a democracy desire to have established in the state is not only just, but convenient also, amongst those who are of the same rank: for which reason, if the administration is in the hands of many, those rules which are established in democracies will be very useful; as to let no one continue in office longer than six months: that all those who are of the same rank may have their turn; for between these there is a sort of democracy: for which reason demagogues are most likely to arise up amongst them, as we have already mentioned: besides, by this means both aristocracies and democracies will be the less liable to be corrupted into dynasties, because it will not be so easy for those who are magistrates for a little to do as much mischief as they could in a long time: for it is from hence that tyrannies arise in democracies and oligarchies; for either those who are most powerful in each state establish a tyranny, as the demagogues in the one, the dynasties in the other, or the chief magistrates who have been long in power. governments are sometimes preserved not only by having the means of their corruption at a great distance, but also by its being very near them; for those who are alarmed at some impending evil keep a stricter hand over the state; for which reason it is necessary for those who have the guardianship of the constitution to be able to awaken the fears of the people, that they may preserve it, and not like a night-guard to be remiss in protecting the state, but to make the distant danger appear at hand. great care ought also to be used to endeavour to restrain the quarrels and disputes of the nobles by laws, as well as to prevent those who are not already engaged in them from taking a part therein; for to perceive an evil at its very first approach is not the lot of every one, but of the politician. to prevent any alteration taking place in an oligarchy or free state on account of the census, if that happens to continue the same while the quantity of money is increased, it will be useful to take a general account of the whole amount of it in former times, to compare it with the present, and to do this every year in those cities where the census is yearly, [ b] in larger communities once in three or five years; and if the whole should be found much larger or much less than it was at the time when the census was first established in the state, let there be a law either to extend or contract it, doing both these according to its increase or decrease; if it increases making the census larger, if it decreases smaller: and if this latter is not done in oligarchies and free states, you will have a dynasty arise in the one, an oligarchy in the other: if the former is not, free states will be changed into democracies, and oligarchies into free states or democracies. it is a general maxim in democracies, oligarchies, monarchies, and indeed in all governments, not to let any one acquire a rank far superior to the rest of the community, but rather to endeavour to confer moderate honours for a continuance than great ones for a short time; for these latter spoil men, for it is not every one who can bear prosperity: but if this rule is not observed, let not those honours which were conferred all at once be all at once taken away, but rather by degrees. but, above all things, let this regulation be made by the law, that no one shall have too much power, either by means of his fortune or friends; but if he has, for his excess therein, let it be contrived that he shall quit the country. now, as many persons promote innovations, that they may enjoy their own particular manner of living, there ought to be a particular officer to inspect the manners of every one, and see that these are not contrary to the genius of the state in which he lives, whether it may be an oligarchy, a democracy, or any other form of government; and, for the same reason, those should be guarded against who are most prosperous in the city: the means of doing which is by appointing those who are otherwise to the business and the offices of the state. i mean, to oppose men of account to the common people, the poor to the rich, and to blend both these into one body, and to increase the numbers of those who are in the middle rank; and this will prevent those seditions which arise from an inequality of condition. but above all, in every state it is necessary, both by the laws and every other method possible, to prevent those who are employed by the public from being venal, and this particularly in an oligarchy; for then the people will not be so much displeased from seeing themselves excluded from a share in the government (nay, they will rather be glad to have leisure to attend their private affairs) as at suspecting that the officers of the state steal the public money, then indeed they are afflicted with double concern, both because they are deprived of the honours of the state, and pillaged by those who enjoy them. there is one method of blending together a democracy and an aristocracy, [ a] if office brought no profit; by which means both the rich and the poor will enjoy what they desire; for to admit all to a share in the government is democratical; that the rich should be in office is aristocratical. this must be done by letting no public employment whatsoever be attended with any emolument; for the poor will not desire to be in office when they can get nothing by it, but had rather attend to their own affairs: but the rich will choose it, as they want nothing of the community. thus the poor will increase their fortunes by being wholly employed in their own concerns; and the principal part of the people will not be governed by the lower sort. to prevent the exchequer from being defrauded, let all public money be delivered out openly in the face of the whole city, and let copies of the accounts be deposited in the different wards tribes, and divisions. but, as the magistrates are to execute their offices without any advantages, the law ought to provide proper honours for those who execute them well. in democracies also it is necessary that the rich should be protected, by not permitting their lands to be divided, nor even the produce of them, which in some states is done unperceivably. it would be also better if the people would prevent them when they offer to exhibit a number of unnecessary and yet expensive public entertainments of plays, music, processions, and the like. in an oligarchy it is necessary to take great care of the poor, and allot them public employments which are gainful; and, if any of the rich insult them, to let their punishment be severer than if they insulted one of their own rank; and to let estates pass by affinity, and not gift: nor to permit any person to have more than one; for by this means property will be more equally divided, and the greater part of the poor get into better circumstances. it is also serviceable in a democracy and an oligarchy to allot those who take no part in public affairs an equality or a preference in other things; the rich in a democracy, to the poor in an oligarchy: but still all the principal offices in the state to be filled only by those who are best qualified to discharge them. chapter ix there are three qualifications necessary for those who fill the first departments in government; first of all, an affection for the established constitution; second place, abilities every way completely equal to the business of their office; in the third, virtue and justice correspondent to the nature of that particular state they are placed in; for if justice is not the same in all states, it is evident that there must be different species thereof. there may be some doubt, when all these qualifications do not in the same persons, in what manner the choice shall be made; as for instance, suppose that one person is an accomplished general, but a bad man and no friend to the [ b] constitution; another is just and a friend to it, which shall one prefer? we should then consider of two qualities, which of them the generality possess in a greater degree, which in a less; for which reason in the choice of a general we should regard his courage more than his virtue as the more uncommon quality; as there are fewer capable of conducting an army than there are good men: but, to protect the state or manage the finances, the contrary rule should be followed; for these require greater virtue than the generality are possessed of, but only that knowledge which is common to all. it may be asked, if a man has abilities equal to his appointment in the state, and is affectionate to the constitution, what occasion is there for being virtuous, since these two things alone are sufficient to enable him to be useful to the public? it is, because those who possess those qualities are often deficient in prudence; for, as they often neglect their own affairs, though they know them and love themselves, so nothing will prevent their serving the public in the same manner. in short, whatsoever the laws contain which we allow to be useful to the state contributes to its preservation: but its first and principal support is (as has been often insisted upon) to have the number of those who desire to preserve it greater than those who wish to destroy it. above all things that ought not to be forgotten which many governments now corrupted neglect; namely, to preserve a mean. for many things seemingly favourable to a democracy destroy a democracy, and many things seemingly favourable to an oligarchy destroy an oligarchy. those who think this the only virtue extend it to excess, not considering that as a nose which varies a little from perfect straightness, either towards a hook nose or a flat one, may yet be beautiful and agreeable to look at; but if this particularity is extended beyond measure, first of all the properties of the part is lost, but at last it can hardly be admitted to be a nose at all, on account of the excess of the rise or sinking: thus it is with other parts of the human body; so also the same thing is true with respect to states; for both an oligarchy and a democracy may something vary from their most perfect form and yet be well constituted; but if any one endeavours to extend either of them too far, at first he will make the government the worse for it, but at last there will be no government at all remaining. the lawgiver and the politician therefore should know well what preserves and what destroys a democracy or an oligarchy, for neither the one nor the other can possibly continue without rich and poor: but that whenever an entire equality of circumstances [ a] prevails, the state must necessarily become of another form; so that those who destroy these laws, which authorise an inequality in property, destroy the government. it is also an error in democracies for the demagogues to endeavour to make the common people superior to the laws; and thus by setting them at variance with the rich, dividing one city into two; whereas they ought rather to speak in favour of the rich. in oligarchies, on the contrary, it is wrong to support those who are in administration against the people. the oaths also which they take in an oligarchy ought to be contrary to what they now are; for, at present, in some places they swear, "i will be adverse to the common people, and contrive all i can against them;" whereas they ought rather to suppose and pretend the contrary; expressing in their oaths, that they will not injure the people. but of all things which i have mentioned, that which contributes most to preserve the state is, what is now most despised, to educate your children for the state; for the most useful laws, and most approved by every statesman, will be of no service if the citizens are not accustomed to and brought up in the principles of the constitution; of a democracy, if that is by law established; of an oligarchy, if that is; for if there are bad morals in one man, there are in the city. but to educate a child fit for the state, it must not be done in the manner which would please either those who have the power in an oligarchy or those who desire a democracy, but so as they may be able to conduct either of these forms of governments. but now the children of the magistrates in an oligarchy are brought up too delicately, and the children of the poor hardy with exercise and labour; so that they are both desirous of and able to promote innovations. in democracies of the purest form they pursue a method which is contrary to their welfare; the reason of which is, that they define liberty wrong: now, there are two things which seem to be the objects of a democracy, that the people in general should possess the supreme power, and all enjoy freedom; for that which is just seems to be equal, and what the people think equal, that is a law: now, their freedom and equality consists in every one's doing what they please: that is in such a democracy every one may live as he likes; "as his inclination guides," in the words of euripides: but this is wrong, for no one ought to think it slavery to live in subjection to government, but protection. thus i have mentioned the causes of corruption in different states, and the means of their preservation. chapter x it now remains that we speak of monarchies, their causes of corruption, and means of preservation; and indeed almost the same things which have been said of other governments happen to kingdoms and tyrannies; for a kingdom partakes of an aristocracy, a tyranny of the worst species of an oligarchy and democracy; for which reason it is the worst that man can submit to, as being composed of two, both of which are bad, and collectively retains all the corruptions and all the defects of both these states. these two species of monarchies arise from principles contrary to each other: a kingdom is formed to protect the better sort of people against the multitude, and kings are appointed out of those, who are chosen either for their superior virtue and actions flowing from virtuous principles, or else from their noble descent; but a tyrant is chosen out of the meanest populace; an enemy to the better sort, that the common people may not be oppressed by them. that this is true experience convinces us; for the generality of tyrants were indeed mere demagogues, who gained credit with the people by oppressing the nobles. some tyrannies were established in this manner after the cities were considerably enlarged--others before that time, by kings who exceeded the power which their country allowed them, from a desire of governing despotically: others were founded by those who were elected to the superior offices in the state; for formerly the people appointed officers for life, who came to be at the head of civil and religious affairs, and these chose one out of their body in whom the supreme power over all the magistrates was placed. by all these means it was easy to establish a tyranny, if they chose it; for their power was ready at hand, either by their being kings, or else by enjoying the honours of the state; thus phidon at argos and other tyrants enjoyed originally the kingly power; phalaris and others in ionia, the honours of the state. pansetius at leontium, cypselus at corinth, pisistratus at athens, dionysius at syracuse, and others, acquired theirs by having been demagogues. a kingdom, as we have said, partakes much of the nature of an aristocracy, and is bestowed according to worth, as either virtue, family, beneficent actions, or these joined with power; for those who have been benefactors to cities and states, or have it in their powers to be so, have acquired this honour, and those who have prevented a people from falling into slavery by war, as codrus, or those who have freed them from it, as cyrus, or the founders of cities, or settlers of colonies, as the kings of sparta, macedon, and molossus. a king desires to be the guardian of his people, that those who have property may be secure in the possession of it, and that the people in general meet with no injury; but a tyrant, as has been often said, has no regard to the common good, except for his own advantage; his only object is pleasure, but a king's is virtue: what a tyrant therefore is ambitious of engrossing is wealth, but a king rather honour. the guards too of a king are citizens, a tyrant's foreigners. that a tyranny contains all that is bad both in a democracy and an oligarchy is evident; with an oligarchy it has for its end gain, as the only means of providing the tyrant with guards and the luxuries of life; like that it places no confidence in the people; and therefore deprives them of the use of arms: it is also common to them both to persecute the populace, to drive them out of the city and their own habitations. with a democracy it quarrels with the nobles, and destroys them both publicly and privately, or drives them into banishment, as rivals and an impediment to the government; hence naturally arise conspiracies both amongst those who desire to govern and those who desire not to be slaves; hence arose periander's advice to thrasybulus to take off the tallest stalks, hinting thereby, that it was necessary to make away with the eminent citizens. we ought then in reason, as has been already said, to account for the changes which arise in a monarchy from the same causes which produce them in other states: for, through injustice received, fear, and contempt, many of those who are under a monarchical government conspire against it; but of all species of injustice, injurious contempt has most influence on them for that purpose: sometimes it is owing to their being deprived of their private fortunes. the dissolution too of a kingdom and a tyranny are generally the same; for monarchs abound in wealth and honour, which all are desirous to obtain. of plots: some aim at the life of those who govern, others at their government; the first arises from hatred to their persons; which hatred may be owing to many causes, either of which will be sufficient to excite their anger, and the generality of those who are under the influence of that passion will join in a conspiracy, not for the sake of their own advancement, but for revenge. thus the plot against the children of pisistratus arose from their injurious treatment of harmodius's sister, and insulting him also; for harmodius resenting the injury done to his sister, and aristogiton the injury done to harmodius. periander the tyrant of ambracia also lost his life by a conspiracy, for some improper liberties he took with a boy in his cups: and philip was slain by pausanias for neglecting to revenge him of the affront he had received from attains; as was amintas the little by darda, for insulting him on account of his age; and the eunuch by evagoras the cyprian in revenge for having taken his son's wife away from him.... many also who have had their bodies scourged with stripes have, through resentment, either killed those who caused them to be inflicted or conspired against them, even when they had kingly power, as at mitylene megacles, joining with his friends, killed the penthelidee, who used to go about striking those they met with clubs. thus, in later times, smendes killed penthilus for whipping him and dragging him away from his wife. decamnichus also was the chief cause of the conspiracy against archelaus, for he urged others on: the occasion of his resentment was his having delivered him to euripides the poet to be scourged; for euripides was greatly offended with him for having said something of the foulness of his breath. and many others have been killed or conspired against on the same account. fear too is a cause which produces the same effects, as well in monarchies as in other states: thus artabanes conspired against xerxes through fear of punishment for having hanged darius according to his orders, whom he supposed he intended to pardon, as the order was given at supper-time. some kings also have been [ a] dethroned and killed in consequence of the contempt they were held in by the people; as some one conspired against sardanapalus, having seen him spinning with his wife, if what is related of him is true, or if not of him, it may very probably be true of some one else. dion also conspired against dionysius the younger, seeing his subjects desirous of a conspiracy, and that he himself was always drunk: and even a man's friends will do this if they despise him; for from the confidence he places in them, they think that they shall not be found out. those also who think they shall gain his throne will conspire against a king through contempt; for as they are powerful themselves, and despise the danger, on account of their own strength, they will readily attempt it. thus a general at the head of his army will endeavour to dethrone the monarch, as cyrus did astyages, despising both his manner of life and his forces; his forces for want of action, his life for its effeminacy: thus suthes, the thracian, who was general to amadocus, conspired against him. sometimes more than one of these causes will excite men to enter into conspiracies, as contempt and desire of gain; as in the instance of mithridates against ariobarzanes. those also who are of a bold disposition, and have gained military honours amongst kings, will of all others be most like to engage in sedition; for strength and courage united inspire great bravery: whenever, therefore, these join in one person, he will be very ready for conspiracies, as he will easily conquer. those who conspire against a tyrant through love of glory and honour have a different motive in view from what i have already mentioned; for, like all others who embrace danger, they have only glory and honour in view, and think, not as some do, of the wealth and pomp they may acquire, but engage in this as they would in any other noble action, that they may be illustrious and distinguished, and destroy a tyrant, not to succeed in his tyranny, but to acquire renown. no doubt but the number of those who act upon this principle is small, for we must suppose they regard their own safety as nothing in case they should not succeed, and must embrace the opinion of dion (which few can do) when he made war upon dionysius with a very few troops; for he said, that let the advantage he made be ever so little it would satisfy him to have gained it; and that, should it be his lot to die the moment he had gained footing in his country, he should think his death sufficiently glorious. a tyranny also is exposed to the same destruction as all other states are, from too powerful neighbours: for it is evident, that an opposition of principles will make them desirous of subverting it; and what they desire, all who can, do: and there is a principle of opposition in one state to another, as a democracy against a tyranny, as says hesiod, "a potter against a potter;" for the extreme of a democracy is a tyranny; a kingly power against an aristocracy, from their different forms of government--for which reason the lacedaemonians destroyed many tyrannies; as did the syracusians during the prosperity of their state. nor are they only destroyed from without, but also from within, when those who have no share in the power bring about a revolution, as happened to gelon, and lately to dionysius; to the first, by means of thrasybulus, the brother of hiero, who nattered gelon's son, and induced him to lead a life of pleasure, that he himself might govern; but the family joined together and endeavoured to support the tyranny and expel thrasybulus; but those whom they made of their party seized the opportunity and expelled the whole family. dion made war against his relation dionysius, and being assisted by the people, first expelled and then killed him. as there are two causes which chiefly induce men to conspire against tyrants, hatred and contempt, one of these, namely hatred, seems inseparable from them. contempt also is often the cause of their destruction: for though, for instance, those who raised themselves to the supreme power generally preserved it; but those who received it from them have, to speak truth, almost immediately all of them lost it; for, falling into an effeminate way of life, they soon grew despicable, and generally fell victims to conspiracies. part of their hatred may be very fitly ascribed to anger; for in some cases this is their motive to action: for it is often a cause which impels them to act more powerfully than hatred, and they proceed with greater obstinacy against those whom they attack, as this passion is not under the direction of reason. many persons also indulge this passion through contempt; which occasioned the fall of the pisistratidae and many others. but hatred is more powerful than anger; for anger is accompanied with grief, which prevents the entrance of reason; but hatred is free from it. in short, whatever causes may be assigned as the destruction of a pure oligarchy unmixed with any other government and an extreme democracy, the same may be applied to a tyranny; for these are divided tyrannies. kingdoms are seldom destroyed by any outward attack; for which reason they are generally very stable; but they have many causes of subversion within; of which two are the principal; one is when those who are in power [ a] excite a sedition, the other when they endeavour to establish a tyranny by assuming greater power than the law gives them. a kingdom, indeed, is not what we ever see erected in our times, but rather monarchies and tyrannies; for a kingly government is one that is voluntarily submitted to, and its supreme power admitted upon great occasions: but where many are equal, and there are none in any respect so much better than another as to be qualified for the greatness and dignity of government over them, then these equals will not willingly submit to be commanded; but if any one assumes the government, either by force or fraud, this is a tyranny. to what we have already said we shall add, the causes of revolutions in an hereditary kingdom. one of these is, that many of those who enjoy it are naturally proper objects of contempt only: another is, that they are insolent while their power is not despotic; but they possess kingly honours only. such a state is soon destroyed; for a king exists but while the people are willing to obey, as their submission to him is voluntary, but to a tyrant involuntary. these and such-like are the causes of the destruction of monarchies. chapter xi monarchies, in a word, are preserved by means contrary to what i have already mentioned as the cause of their destruction; but to speak to each separately: the stability of a kingdom will depend upon the power of the king's being kept within moderate bounds; for by how much the less extensive his power is, by so much the longer will his government continue; for he will be less despotic and more upon an equality of condition with those he governs; who, on that account, will envy him the less. it was on this account that the kingdom of the molossi continued so long; and the lacedaemonians from their government's being from the beginning divided into two parts, and also by the moderation introduced into the other parts of it by theopompus, and his establishment of the ephori; for by taking something from the power he increased the duration of the kingdom, so that in some measure he made it not less, but bigger; as they say he replied to his wife, who asked him if he was not ashamed to deliver down his kingdom to his children reduced from what he received it from his ancestors? no, says he, i give it him more lasting. tyrannies are preserved two ways most opposite to each other, one of which is when the power is delegated from one to the other, and in this manner many tyrants govern in their states. report says that periander founded many of these. there are also many of them to be met with amongst the persians. what has been already mentioned is as conducive as anything can be to preserve a tyranny; namely, to keep down those who are of an aspiring disposition, to take off those who will not submit, to allow no public meals, no clubs, no education, nothing at all, but to guard against everything that gives rise to high spirits or mutual confidence; nor to suffer the learned meetings of those who are at leisure to hold conversation with each other; and to endeavour by every means possible to keep all the people strangers to each other; for knowledge increases mutual confidence; and to oblige all strangers to appear in public, and to live near the city-gate, that all their actions may be sufficiently seen; for those who are kept like slaves seldom entertain any noble thoughts: in short, to imitate everything which the persians and barbarians do, for they all contribute to support slavery; and to endeavour to know what every one who is under their power does and says; and for this purpose to employ spies: such were those women whom the syracusians called potagogides hiero also used to send out listeners wherever there was any meeting or conversation; for the people dare not speak with freedom for fear of such persons; and if any one does, there is the less chance of its being concealed; and to endeavour that the whole community should mutually accuse and come to blows with each other, friend with friend, the commons with the nobles, and the rich with each other. it is also advantageous for a tyranny that all those who are under it should be oppressed with poverty, that they may not be able to compose a guard; and that, being employed in procuring their daily bread, they may have no leisure to conspire against their tyrants. the pyramids of egypt are a proof of this, and the votive edifices of the cyposelidse, and the temple of jupiter olympus, built by the pisistratidae, and the works of polycrates at samos; for all these produced one end, the keeping the people poor. it is necessary also to multiply taxes, as at syracuse; where dionysius in the space of five years collected all the private property of his subjects into his own coffers. a tyrant also should endeavour to engage his subjects in a war, that they may have employment and continually depend upon their general. a king is preserved by his friends, but a tyrant is of all persons the man who can place no confidence in friends, as every one has it in his desire and these chiefly in their power to destroy him. all these things also which are done in an extreme democracy should be done in a tyranny, as permitting great licentiousness to the women in the house, that they may reveal their husbands' secrets; and showing great indulgence to slaves also for the same reason; for slaves and women conspire not against tyrants: but when they are treated with kindness, both of them are abettors of tyrants, and extreme democracies also; and the people too in such a state desire to be despotic. for which reason flatterers are in repute in both these: the demagogue in the democracy, for he is the proper flatterer of the people; among tyrants, he who will servilely adapt himself to their humours; for this is the business of [ a] flatterers. and for this reason tyrants always love the worst of wretches, for they rejoice in being flattered, which no man of a liberal spirit will submit to; for they love the virtuous, but flatter none. bad men too are fit for bad purposes; "like to like," as the proverb says. a tyrant also should show no favour to a man of worth or a freeman; for he should think, that no one deserved to be thought these but himself; for he who supports his dignity, and is a friend to freedom, encroaches upon the superiority and the despotism of the tyrant: such men, therefore, they naturally hate, as destructive to their government. a tyrant also should rather admit strangers to his table and familiarity than citizens, as these are his enemies, but the others have no design against him. these and such-like are the supports of a tyranny, for it comprehends whatsoever is wicked. but all these things may be comprehended in three divisions, for there are three objects which a tyranny has in view; one of which is, that the citizens should be of poor abject dispositions; for such men never propose to conspire against any one. the second is, that they should have no confidence in each other; for while they have not this, the tyrant is safe enough from destruction. for which reason they are always at enmity with those of merit, as hurtful to their government; not only as they scorn to be governed despotically, but also because they can rely upon each other's fidelity, and others can rely upon theirs, and because they will not inform against their associates, nor any one else. the third is, that they shall be totally without the means of doing anything; for no one undertakes what is impossible for him to perform: so that without power a tyranny can never be destroyed. these, then, are the three objects which the inclinations of tyrants desire to see accomplished; for all their tyrannical plans tend to promote one of these three ends, that their people may neither have mutual confidence, power, nor spirit. this, then, is one of the two methods of preserving tyrannies: the other proceeds in a way quite contrary to what has been already described, and which may be discerned from considering to what the destruction of a kingdom is owing; for as one cause of that is, making the government approach near to a tyranny, so the safety of a tyranny consists in making the government nearly kingly; preserving only one thing, namely power, that not only the willing, but the unwilling also, must be obliged to submit; for if this is once lost, the tyranny is at an end. this, then, as the foundation, must be preserved: in other particulars carefully do and affect to seem like a king; first, appear to pay a great attention [ b] to what belongs to the public; nor make such profuse presents as will offend the people; while they are to supply the money out of the hard labour of their own hands, and see it given in profusion to mistresses, foreigners, and fiddlers; keeping an exact account both of what you receive and pay; which is a practice some tyrants do actually follow, by which means they seem rather fathers of families than tyrants: nor need you ever fear the want of money while you have the supreme power of the state in your own hands. it is also much better for those tyrants who quit their kingdom to do this than to leave behind them money they have hoarded up; for their regents will be much less desirous of making innovations, and they are more to be dreaded by absent tyrants than the citizens; for such of them as he suspects he takes with him, but these regents must be left behind. he should also endeavour to appear to collect such taxes and require such services as the exigencies of the state demand, that whenever they are wanted they may be ready in time of war; and particularly to take care that he appear to collect and keep them not as his own property, but the public's. his appearance also should not be severe, but respectable, so that he should inspire those who approach him with veneration and not fear; but this will not be easily accomplished if he is despised. if, therefore, he will not take the pains to acquire any other, he ought to endeavour to be a man of political abilities, and to fix that opinion of himself in the judgment of his subjects. he should also take care not to appear to be guilty of the least offence against modesty, nor to suffer it in those under him: nor to permit the women of his family to treat others haughtily; for the haughtiness of women has been the ruin of many tyrants. with respect to the pleasures of sense, he ought to do directly contrary to the practice of some tyrants at present; for they do not only continually indulge themselves in them for many days together, but they seem also to desire to have other witnesses of it, that they may wonder at their happiness; whereas he ought really to be moderate in these, and, if not, to appear to others to avoid them-for it is not the sober man who is exposed either to plots or contempt, but the drunkard; not the early riser, but the sluggard. his conduct in general should also be contrary to what is reported of former tyrants; for he ought to improve and adorn his city, so as to seem a guardian and not a tyrant; and, moreover., always to [ a] seem particularly attentive to the worship of the gods; for from persons of such a character men entertain less fears of suffering anything illegal while they suppose that he who governs them is religious and reverences the gods; and they will be less inclined to raise insinuations against such a one, as being peculiarly under their protection: but this must be so done as to give no occasion for any suspicion of hypocrisy. he should also take care to show such respect to men of merit in every particular, that they should not think they could be treated with greater distinction by their fellow-citizens in a free state. he should also let all honours flow immediately from himself, but every censure from his subordinate officers and judges. it is also a common protection of all monarchies not to make one person too great, or, certainly, not many; for they will support each other: but, if it is necessary to entrust any large powers to one person, to take care that it is not one of an ardent spirit; for this disposition is upon every opportunity most ready for a revolution: and, if it should seem necessary to deprive any one of his power, to do it by degrees, and not reduce him all at once. it is also necessary to abstain from all kinds of insolence; more particularly from corporal punishment; which you must be most cautious never to exercise over those who have a delicate sense of honour; for, as those who love money are touched to the quick when anything affects their property, so are men of honour and principle when they receive any disgrace: therefore, either never employ personal punishment, or, if you do, let it be only in the manner in which a father would correct his son, and not with contempt; and, upon the whole, make amends for any seeming disgrace by bestowing greater honours. but of all persons who are most likely to entertain designs against the person of a tyrant, those are chiefly to be feared and guarded against who regard as nothing the loss of their own lives, so that they can but accomplish their purpose: be very careful therefore of those who either think themselves affronted, or those who are dear to them; for those who are excited by anger to revenge regard as nothing their own persons: for, as heraclitus says, it is dangerous to fight with an angry man who will purchase with his life the thing he aims at. as all cities are composed of two sorts of persons, the rich and the poor, it is necessary that both these should find equal protection from him who governs them, and that the one party should not have it in their power to injure the other; but that the tyrant should attach to himself that party which is the most powerful; which, if he does, he will have no occasion either to make his slaves free, or to deprive citizens of their arms; for the strength of either of the parties added to his own forces will render him superior to any conspiracy. it would be superfluous to go through all particulars; for the rule of conduct which the tyrant ought to pursue is evident enough, and that is, to affect to appear not the tyrant, but the king; the guardian of those he governs, not their plunderer, [ b] but their protector, and to affect the middle rank in life, not one superior to all others: he should, therefore, associate his nobles with him and soothe his people; for his government will not only be necessarily more honourable and worthy of imitation, as it will be over men of worth, and not abject wretches who perpetually both hate and fear him; but it will be also more durable. let him also frame his life so that his manners may be consentaneous to virtue, or at least let half of them be so, that he may not be altogether wicked, but only so in part. chapter xii indeed an oligarchy and a tyranny are of all governments of the shortest duration. the tyranny of orthagoras and his family at sicyon, it is true, continued longer than any other: the reason for which was, that they used their power with moderation, and were in many particulars obedient to the laws; and, as clisthenes was an able general, he never fell into contempt, and by the care he took that in many particulars his government should be popular. he is reported also to have presented a person with a crown who adjudged the victory to another; and some say that it is the statue of that judge which is placed in the forum. they say also, that pisistratus submitted to be summoned into the court of the areopagites. the second that we shall mention is the tyranny of the cypselidse, at corinth, which continued seventy-seven years and six months; for cypselus was tyrant there thirty years, periander forty-four, and psammetichus, the son of georgias, three years; the reason for which was, that cypselus was a popular man, and governed without guards. periander indeed ruled like a tyrant, but then he was an able general. the third was that of the pisistradidae at athens; but it was not continual: for pisistratus himself was twice expelled; so that out of thirty-three years he was only fifteen in power, and his son eighteen; so that the whole time was thirty-three years. of the rest we shall mention that of hiero, and gelo at syracuse; and this did not continue long, for both their reigns were only eighteen years; for gelo died in the eighth year of his tyranny, and hiero in his tenth. thrasybulus fell in his eleventh month, and many other tyrannies have continued a very short time. we have now gone through the general cases of corruption and [ a] means of preservation both in free states and monarchies. in plato's republic, socrates is introduced treating upon the changes which different governments are liable to: but his discourse is faulty; for he does not particularly mention what changes the best and first governments are liable to; for he only assigns the general cause, of nothing being immutable, but that in time everything will alter [***tr.: text is unintelligible here***] he conceives that nature will then produce bad men, who will not submit to education, and in this, probably, he is not wrong; for it is certain that there are some persons whom it is impossible by any education to make good men; but why should this change be more peculiar to what he calls the best-formed government, than to all other forms, and indeed to all other things that exist? and in respect to his assigned time, as the cause of the alteration of all things, we find that those which did not begin to exist at the same time cease to be at the same time; so that, if anything came into beginning the day before the solstice, it must alter at the same time. besides, why should such a form of government be changed into the lacedaemonian? for, in general, when governments alter, they alter into the contrary species to what they before were, and not into one like their former. and this reasoning holds true of other changes; for he says, that from the lacedaemonian form it changes into an oligarchy, and from thence into a democracy, and from a democracy into a tyranny: and sometimes a contrary change takes place, as from a democracy into an oligarchy, rather than into a monarchy. with respect to a tyranny he neither says whether there will be any change in it; or if not, to what cause it will be owing; or if there is, into what other state it will alter: but the reason of this is, that a tyranny is an indeterminate government; and, according to him, every state ought to alter into the first, and most perfect, thus the continuity and circle would be preserved. but one tyranny often changed into another; as at syria, from myron's to clisthenes'; or into an oligarchy, as was antileo's at chalcas; or into a democracy, as was gelo's at syracuse; or into an aristocracy, as was charilaus's at lacedaemon, and at carthage. an oligarchy is also changed into a tyranny; such was the rise of most of the ancient tyrannies in sicily; at leontini, into the tyranny of panaetius; at gela, into that of cleander; at rhegium into that of anaxilaus; and the like in many other cities. it is absurd also to suppose, that a state is changed into an oligarchy because those who are in power are avaricious and greedy of money, and not because those who are by far richer than their fellow citizens think it unfair that those who have nothing should have an equal share in the rule of the state with themselves, who possess so much-for in many oligarchies it is not allowable to be employed in money-getting, and there are many laws to prevent it. but in carthage, which is a democracy, money-getting is creditable, and yet their form of government remains unaltered. it is also absurd to say, that in an oligarchy there are two cities, one of the poor and another of the rich; for why should this happen to them more than to the lacedaemonians, or any other state where all possess not equal property, or where all are not equally good? for though no one member of the community should be poorer than he was before, yet a democracy might nevertheless change into an oligarchy; if the rich should be more powerful than the poor, and the one too negligent, and the other attentive: and though these changes are owing to many causes, yet he mentions but one only, that the citizens become poor by luxury, and paying interest-money; as if at first they were all rich, or the greater part of them: but this is not so, but when some of those who have the principal management of public affairs lose their fortunes, they will endeavour to bring about a revolution; but when others do, nothing of consequence will follow, nor when such states do alter is there any more reason for their altering into a democracy than any other. besides, though some of the members of the community may not have spent their fortunes, yet if they share not in the honours of the state, or if they are ill-used and insulted, they will endeavour to raise seditions, and bring about a revolution, that they may be allowed to do as they like; which, plato says, arises from too much liberty. although there are many oligarchies and democracies, yet socrates, when he is treating of the changes they may undergo, speaks of them as if there was but one of each sort. book vi chapter i we have already shown what is the nature of the supreme council in the state, and wherein one may differ from another, and how the different magistrates should be regulated; and also the judicial department, and what is best suited to what state; and also to what causes both the destruction and preservation of governments are owing. as there are very many species of democracies, as well as of other states, it will not be amiss to consider at the same time anything which we may have omitted to mention concerning either of them, and to allot to each that mode of conduct which is peculiar to and advantageous for them; and also to inquire into the combinations of all these different modes of government which we [ a] have mentioned; for as these are blended together the government is altered, as from an aristocracy to be an oligarchy, and from a free state to be a democracy. now, i mean by those combinations of government (which i ought to examine into, but have not yet done), namely, whether the deliberative department and the election of magistrates is regulated in a manner correspondent to an oligarchy, or the judicial to an aristocracy, or the deliberative part only to an oligarchy, and the election of magistrates to an aristocracy, or whether, in any other manner, everything is not regulated according to the nature of the government. but we will first consider what particular sort of democracy is fitted to a particular city, and also what particular oligarchy to a particular people; and of other states, what is advantageous to what. it is also necessary to show clearly, not only which of these governments is best for a state, but also how it ought to be established there, and other things we will treat of briefly. and first, we will speak of a democracy; and this will at the same time show clearly the nature of its opposite which some persons call an oligarchy; and in doing this we must examine into all the parts of a democracy, and everything that is connected therewith; for from the manner in which these are compounded together different species of democracies arise: and hence it is that they are more than one, and of various natures. now, there are two causes which occasion there being so many democracies; one of which is that which we have already mentioned; namely, there being different sorts of people; for in one country the majority are husbandmen, in another mechanics, and hired servants; if the first of these is added to the second, and the third to both of them, the democracy will not only differ in the particular of better or worse, but in this, that it will be no longer the same government; the other is that which we will now speak of. the different things which are connected with democracies and seem to make part of these states, do, from their being joined to them, render them different from others: this attending a few, that more, and another all. it is necessary that he who would found any state which he may happen to approve of, or correct one, should be acquainted with all these particulars. all founders of states endeavour to comprehend within their own plan everything of nearly the same kind with it; but in doing this they err, in the manner i have already described in treating of the preservation and destruction of governments. i will now speak of these first principles and manners, and whatever else a democratical state requires. chapter ii now the foundation of a democratical state is liberty, and people have been accustomed to say this as if here only liberty was to be found; for they affirm that this is the end proposed by every democracy. but one part of liberty is to govern and be governed alternately; for, according to democratical justice, equality is measured by numbers, and not by worth: and this being just, it is necessary that the supreme power should be vested in the people at large; and that what the majority determine should be final: so that in a democracy the poor ought to have more power than the rich, as being the greater number; for this is one mark of liberty which all framers of a democracy lay down as a criterion of that state; another is, to live as every one likes; for this, they say, is a right which liberty gives, since he is a slave who must live as he likes not. this, then, is another criterion of a democracy. hence arises the claim to be under no command whatsoever to any one, upon any account, any otherwise than by rotation, and that just as far only as that person is, in his turn, under his also. this also is conducive to that equality which liberty demands. these things being premised, and such being the government, it follows that such rules as the following should be observed in it, that all the magistrates should be chosen out of all the people, and all to command each, and each in his turn all: that all the magistrates should be chosen by lot, except to those offices only which required some particular knowledge and skill: that no census, or a very small one, should be required to qualify a man for any office: that none should be in the same employment twice, or very few, and very seldom, except in the army: that all their appointments should be limited to a very short time, or at least as many as possible: that the whole community should be qualified to judge in all causes whatsoever, let the object be ever so extensive, ever so interesting, or of ever so high a nature; as at athens, where the people at large judge the magistrates when they come out of office, and decide concerning public affairs as well as private contracts: that the supreme power should be in the public assembly; and that no magistrate should be allowed any discretionary power but in a few instances, and of no consequence to public business. of all magistrates a senate is best suited to a democracy, where the whole community is not paid for giving their attendance; for in that case it loses its power; for then the people will bring all causes before them, by appeal, as we have already mentioned in a former book. in the next place, there should, if possible, be a fund to pay all the citizens--who have any share in the management of public affairs, either as members of the assembly, judges, and magistrates; but if this cannot be done, at least the magistrates, the judges the senators, and members of the supreme assembly, and also those officers who are obliged to eat at a common table ought to be paid. moreover, as an oligarchy is said to be a government of men of family, fortune, and education; so, on the contrary, a democracy is a government in the hands of men of no birth, indigent circumstances, and mechanical employments. in this state also no office [ a] should be for life; and, if any such should remain after the government has been long changed into a democracy, they should endeavour by degrees to diminish the power; and also elect by lot instead of vote. these things, then, appertain to all democracies; namely, to be established on that principle of justice which is homogeneous to those governments; that is, that all the members of the state, by number, should enjoy an equality, which seems chiefly to constitute a democracy, or government of the people: for it seems perfectly equal that the rich should have no more share in the government than the poor, nor be alone in power; but that all should be equal, according to number; for thus, they think, the equality and liberty of the state best preserved. chapter iii in the next place we must inquire how this equality is to be procured. shall the qualifications be divided so that five hundred rich should be equal to a thousand poor, or shall the thousand have equal power with the five hundred? or shall we not establish our equality in this manner? but divide indeed thus, and afterwards taking an equal number both out of the five hundred and the thousand, invest them with the power of creating the magistrates and judges. is this state then established according to perfect democratical justice, or rather that which is guided by numbers only? for the defenders of a democracy say, that that is just which the majority approve of: but the favourers of an oligarchy say, that that is just which those who have most approve of; and that we ought to be directed by the value of property. both the propositions are unjust; for if we agree with what the few propose we erect a tyranny: for if it should happen that an individual should have more than the rest who are rich, according to oligarchical justice, this man alone has a right to the supreme power; but if superiority of numbers is to prevail, injustice will then be done by confiscating the property of the rich, who are few, as we have already said. what then that equality is, which both parties will admit, must be collected from the definition of right which is common to them both; for they both say that what the majority of the state approves of ought to be established. be it so; but not entirely: but since a city happens to be made up of two different ranks of people, the rich and the poor, let that be established which is approved of by both these, or the greater part: but should there be opposite sentiments, let that be established which shall be approved of by the greater part: but let this be according to the census; for instance, if there should be ten of the rich and twenty of the poor, and six of the first and fifteen of the last should agree upon any measure, and the remaining four of the rich should join with the remaining five of the poor in opposing it, that party whose census when added together should determine which opinion should be law, and should these happen to be equal, it should be regarded as a case similar to an assembly or court of justice dividing equally upon any question that comes before them, who either determine it by lot or some such method. but although, with [ b] respect to what is equal and just, it may be very difficult to establish the truth, yet it is much easier to do than to persuade those who have it in their power to encroach upon others to be guided thereby; for the weak always desire what is equal and just, but the powerful pay no regard thereunto. chapter iv there are four kinds of democracies. the best is that which is composed of those first in order, as we have already said, and this also is the most ancient of any. i call that the first which every one would place so, was he to divide the people; for the best part of these are the husbandmen. we see, then, that a democracy may be framed where the majority live by tillage or pasturage; for, as their property is but small, they will not be at leisure perpetually to hold public assemblies, but will be continually employed in following their own business, not having otherwise the means of living; nor will they be desirous of what another enjoys, but will rather like to follow their own business than meddle with state affairs and accept the offices of government, which will be attended with no great profit; for the major part of mankind are rather desirous of riches than honour (a proof of this is, that they submitted to the tyrannies in ancient times, and do now submit to the oligarchies, if no one hinders them in their usual occupations, or deprives them of their property; for some of them soon get rich, others are removed from poverty); besides, their having the right of election and calling their magistrates to account for their conduct when they come out of office, will satisfy their desire of honours, if any of them entertain that passion: for in some states, though the commonalty have not the right of electing the magistrates, yet it is vested in part of that body chosen to represent them: and it is sufficient for the people at large to possess the deliberative power: and this ought to be considered as a species of democracy; such was that formerly at mantinsea: for which reason it is proper for the democracy we have been now treating of to have a power (and it has been usual for them to have it) of censuring their magistrates when out of office, and sitting in judgment upon all causes: but that the chief magistrates should be elected, and according to a certain census, which should vary with the rank of their office, or else not by a census, but according to their abilities for their respective appointments. a state thus constituted must be well constituted; for the magistracies will be always filled with the best men with the approbation of the people; who will not envy their superiors: and these and the nobles should be content with this part in the administration; for they will not be governed by their inferiors. they will be also careful to use their power with moderation, as there are others to whom full power is delegated to censure their conduct; for it is very serviceable to the state to have them dependent upon others, and not to be permitted to do whatsoever they choose; for with such a liberty there would be no check to that evil particle there is in every one: therefore it is [ a] necessary and most for the benefit of the state that the offices thereof should be filled by the principal persons in it, whose characters are unblemished, and that the people are not oppressed. it is now evident that this is the best species of democracy, and on what account; because the people are such and have such powers as they ought to have. to establish a democracy of husbandmen some of those laws which were observed in many ancient states are universally useful; as, for instance, on no account to permit any one to possess more than a certain quantity of land, or within a certain distance from the city. formerly also, in some states, no one was allowed to sell their original lot of land. they also mention a law of one oxylus, which forbade any one to add to their patrimony by usury. we ought also to follow the law of the aphutaeans, as useful to direct us in this particular we are now speaking of; for they having but very little ground, while they were a numerous people, and at the same time were all husbandmen, did not include all their lands within the census, but divided them in such a manner that, according to the census, the poor had more power than the rich. next to the commonalty of husbandmen is one of shepherds and herdsmen; for they have many things in common with them, and, by their way of life, are excellently qualified to make good soldiers, stout in body, and able to continue in the open air all night. the generality of the people of whom other democracies are composed are much worse than these; for their lives are wretched nor have they any business with virtue in anything they do; these are your mechanics, your exchange-men, and hired servants; as all these sorts of men frequent the exchange and the citadel, they can readily attend the public assembly; whereas the husbandmen, being more dispersed in the country, cannot so easily meet together; nor are they equally desirous of doing it with these others! when a country happens to be so situated that a great part of the land lies at a distance from the city, there it is easy to establish a good democracy or a free state for the people in general will be obliged to live in the country; so that it will be necessary in such a democracy, though there may be an exchange-mob at hand, never to allow a legal assembly without the inhabitants of the country attend. we have shown in what manner the first and best democracy ought to be established, and it will be equally evident as to the rest, for from these we [ b] should proceed as a guide, and always separate the meanest of the people from the rest. but the last and worst, which gives to every citizen without distinction a share in every part of the administration, is what few citizens can bear, nor is it easy to preserve for any long time, unless well supported by laws and manners. we have already noticed almost every cause that can destroy either this or any other state. those who have taken the lead in such a democracy have endeavoured to support it, and make the people powerful by collecting together as many persons as they could and giving them their freedom, not only legitimately but naturally born, and also if either of their parents were citizens, that is to say, if either their father or mother; and this method is better suited to this state than any other: and thus the demagogues have usually managed. they ought, however, to take care, and do this no longer than the common people are superior to the nobles and those of the middle rank, and then stop; for, if they proceed still further, they will make the state disorderly, and the nobles will ill brook the power of the common people, and be full of resentment against it; which was the cause of an insurrection at cyrene: for a little evil is overlooked, but when it becomes a great one it strikes the eye. it is, moreover, very-useful in such a state to do as clisthenes did at athens, when he was desirous of increasing the power of the people, and as those did who established the democracy in cyrene; that is, to institute many tribes and fraternities, and to make the religious rites of private persons few, and those common; and every means is to be contrived to associate and blend the people together as much as possible; and that all former customs be broken through. moreover, whatsoever is practised in a tyranny seems adapted to a democracy of this species; as, for instance, the licentiousness of the slaves, the women, and the children; for this to a certain degree is useful in such a state; and also to overlook every one's living as they choose; for many will support such a government: for it is more agreeable to many to live without any control than as prudence would direct. chapter v it is also the business of the legislator and all those who would support a government of this sort not to make it too great a work, or too perfect; but to aim only to render it stable: for, let a state be constituted ever so badly, there is no difficulty in its continuing a few days: they should therefore endeavour to procure its safety by all those ways which we have described in assigning the causes of the preservation and destruction of governments; avoiding what is hurtful, and by framing such laws, written and unwritten, as contain those things which chiefly tend to the preservation of the state; nor to suppose that that is useful either for a democratic or [ a] an oligarchic form of government which contributes to make them more purely so, but what will contribute to their duration: but our demagogues at present, to flatter the people, occasion frequent confiscations in the courts; for which reason those who have the welfare of the state really at heart should act directly opposite to what they do, and enact a law to prevent forfeitures from being divided amongst the people or paid into the treasury, but to have them set apart for sacred uses: for those who are of a bad disposition would not then be the less cautious, as their punishment would be the same; and the community would not be so ready to condemn those whom they sat in judgment on when they were to get nothing by it: they should also take care that the causes which are brought before the public should be as few as possible, and punish with the utmost severity those who rashly brought an action against any one; for it is not the commons but the nobles who are generally prosecuted: for in all things the citizens of the same state ought to be affectionate to each other, at least not to treat those who have the chief power in it as their enemies. now, as the democracies which have been lately established are very numerous, and it is difficult to get the common people to attend the public assemblies without they are paid for it, this, when there is not a sufficient public revenue, is fatal to the nobles; for the deficiencies therein must be necessarily made up by taxes, confiscations, and fines imposed by corrupt courts of justice: which things have already destroyed many democracies. whenever, then, the revenues of the state are small, there should be but few public assemblies and but few courts of justice: these, however, should have very extensive jurisdictions, but should continue sitting a few days only, for by this means the rich would not fear the expense, although they should receive nothing for their attendance, though the poor did; and judgment also would be given much better; for the rich will not choose to be long absent from their own affairs, but will willingly be so for a short time: and, when there are sufficient revenues, a different conduct ought to be pursued from what the demagogues at present follow; for now they divide the surplus of the public money amongst the poor; these receive it and again want the same supply, while the giving it is like pouring water into a sieve: but the true patriot in a democracy ought to take care that the majority of the community are not too poor, for this is the cause of rapacity in that government; he therefore should endeavour that they may enjoy perpetual plenty; and as this also is advantageous to the rich, what can be saved out of the public money should be put by, and then divided at once amongst the poor, if possible, in such a quantity as may enable every one of them to purchase a little field, and, if that cannot be done, at least to give each of them enough to procure the implements [ b] of trade and husbandry; and if there is not enough for all to receive so much at once, then to divide it according to tribes or any other allotment. in the meantime let the rich pay them for necessary services, but not be obliged to find them in useless amusements. and something like this was the manner in which they managed at carthage, and preserved the affections of the people; for by continually sending some of their community into colonies they procured plenty. it is also worthy of a sensible and generous nobility to divide the poor amongst them, and supplying them with what is necessary, induce them to work; or to imitate the conduct of the people at tarentum: for they, permitting the poor to partake in common of everything which is needful for them, gain the affections of the commonalty. they have also two different ways of electing their magistrates; for some are chosen by vote, others by lot; by the last, that the people at large may have some share in the administration; by the former, that the state may be well governed: the same may be accomplished if of the same magistrates you choose some by vote, others by lot. and thus much for the manner in which democracies ought to be established. chapter vi what has been already said will almost of itself sufficiently show how an oligarchy ought to be founded; for he who would frame such a state should have in his view a democracy to oppose it; for every species of oligarchy should be founded on principles diametrically opposite to some species of democracy. the first and best-framed oligarchy is that which approaches near to what we call a free state; in which there ought to be two different census, the one high, the other low: from those who are within the latter the ordinary officers of the state ought to be chosen; from the former the supreme magistrates: nor should any one be excluded from a part of the administration who was within the census; which should be so regulated that the commonalty who are included in it should by means thereof be superior to those who have no share in the government; for those who are to have the management of public affairs ought always to be chosen out of the better sort of the people. much in the same manner ought that oligarchy to be established which is next in order: but as to that which is most opposite to a pure democracy, and approaches nearest to a dynasty and a tyranny, as it is of all others the worst, so it requires the greatest care and caution to preserve it: for as bodies of sound and healthy constitutions and ships which are well manned and well found for sailing can bear many injuries without perishing, while a diseased body or a leaky ship with an indifferent crew cannot support the [ a] least shock; so the worst-established governments want most looking after. a number of citizens is the preservation of a democracy; for these are opposed to those rights which are founded in rank: on the contrary, the preservation of an oligarchy depends upon the due regulation of the different orders in the society. chapter vii as the greater part of the community are divided into four sorts of people; husbandmen, mechanics, traders, and hired servants; and as those who are employed in war may likewise be divided into four; the horsemen, the heavy-armed soldier, the light-armed, and the sailor, where the nature of the country can admit a great number of horse; there a powerful oligarchy may be easily established: for the safety of the inhabitants depends upon a force of that sort; but those who can support the expense of horsemen must be persons of some considerable fortune. where the troops are chiefly heavy-armed, there an oligarchy, inferior in power to the other, may be established; for the heavy-armed are rather made up of men of substance than the poor: but the light-armed and the sailors always contribute to support a democracy: but where the number of these is very great and a sedition arises, the other parts of the community fight at a disadvantage; but a remedy for this evil is to be learned from skilful generals, who always mix a proper number of light-armed soldiers with their horse and heavy-armed: for it is with those that the populace get the better of the men of fortune in an insurrection; for these being lighter are easily a match for the horse and the heavy-armed: so that for an oligarchy to form a body of troops from these is to form it against itself: but as a city is composed of persons of different ages, some young and some old, the fathers should teach their sons, while they were very young, a light and easy exercise; but, when they are grown up, they should be perfect in every warlike exercise. now, the admission of the people to any share in the government should either be (as i said before) regulated by a census, or else, as at thebes, allowed to those who for a certain time have ceased from any mechanic employment, or as at massalia, where they are chosen according to their worth, whether citizens or foreigners. with respect to the magistrates of the highest rank which it may be necessary to have in a state, the services they are bound to do the public should be expressly laid down, to prevent the common people from being desirous of accepting their employments, and also to induce them to regard their magistrates with favour when they know what a price they pay for their honours. it is also necessary that the magistrates, upon entering into their offices, should make magnificent sacrifices and erect some public structure, that the people partaking of the entertainment, and seeing the city ornamented with votive gifts in their temples and public structures, may see with pleasure the stability of the government: add to this also, that the nobles will have their generosity recorded: but now this is not the conduct which those who are at present at the head of an oligarchy pursue, but the contrary; for they are not more desirous of honour than of gain; for which reason such oligarchies may more properly be called little democracies. thus [ b] we have explained on what principles a democracy and an oligarchy ought to be established. chapter viii after what has been said i proceed next to treat particularly of the magistrates; of what nature they should be, how many, and for what purpose, as i have already mentioned: for without necessary magistrates no state can exist, nor without those which contribute to its dignity and good order can exist happily: now it is necessary that in small states the magistrates should be few; in a large one, many: also to know well what offices may be joined together, and what ought to be separated. the first thing necessary is to establish proper regulators in the markets; for which purpose a certain magistrate should be appointed to inspect their contracts and preserve good order; for of necessity, in almost every city there must be both buyers and sellers to supply each other's mutual wants: and this is what is most productive of the comforts of life; for the sake of which men seem to have joined together in one community. a second care, and nearly related to the first, is to have an eye both to the public and private edifices in the city, that they may be an ornament; and also to take care of all buildings which are likely to fall: and to see that the highways are kept in proper repair; and also that the landmarks between different estates are preserved, that there may be no disputes on that account; and all other business of the same nature. now, this business may be divided into several branches, over each of which in populous cities they appoint a separate person; one to inspect the buildings, another the fountains, another the harbours; and they are called the inspectors of the city. a third, which is very like the last, and conversant nearly about the same objects, only in the country, is to take care of what is done out of the city. the officers who have this employment we call inspectors of the lands, or inspectors of the woods; but the business of all three of them is the same. there must also be other officers appointed to receive the public revenue and to deliver it out to those who are in the different departments of the state: these are called receivers or quaestors. there must also be another, before whom all private contracts and sentences of courts should be enrolled, as well as proceedings and declarations. sometimes this employment is divided amongst many, but there is one supreme over the rest; these are called proctors, notaries, and the like. next to these is an officer whose business is of all others the most necessary, and yet most difficult; namely, to take care that sentence is executed upon those who are condemned; and that every one pays the fines laid on him; and also to have the charge of those who are in prison. [ a] this office is very disagreeable on account of the odium attending it, so that no one will engage therein without it is made very profitable, or, if they do, will they be willing to execute it according to law; but it is most necessary, as it is of no service to pass judgment in any cause without that judgment is carried into execution: for without this human society could not subsist: for which reason it is best that this office should not be executed by one person, but by some of the magistrates of the other courts. in like manner, the taking care that those fines which are ordered by the judges are levied should be divided amongst different persons. and as different magistrates judge different causes, let the causes of the young be heard by the young: and as to those which are already brought to a hearing, let one person pass sentence, and another see it executed: as, for instance, let the magistrates who have the care of the public buildings execute the sentence which the inspectors of the markets have passed, and the like in other cases: for by so much the less odium attends those who carry the laws into execution, by so much the easier will they be properly put in force: therefore for the same persons to pass the sentence and to execute it will subject them to general hatred; and if they pass it upon all, they will be considered as the enemies of all. thus one person has often the custody of the prisoner's body, while another sees the sentence against him executed, as the eleven did at athens: for which reason it is prudent to separate these offices, and to give great attention thereunto as equally necessary with anything we have already mentioned; for it will certainly happen that men of character will decline accepting this office, and worthless persons cannot properly be entrusted with it, as having themselves rather an occasion for a guard than being qualified to guard others. this, therefore, ought by no means to be a separate office from others; nor should it be continually allotted to any individuals, but the young men; where there is a city-guard, the youths ought in turns to take these offices upon them. these, then, as the most necessary magistrates, ought to be first mentioned: next to these are others no less necessary, but of much higher rank, for they ought to be men of great skill and fidelity. these are they who have the guard of the city, and provide everything that is necessary for war; whose business it is, both in war and peace, to defend the walls and the gates, and to take care to muster and marshal the citizens. over all these there are sometimes more officers, sometimes fewer: thus in little cities there is only one whom they call either general or polemarch; but where there are horse and light-armed troops, and bowmen, and sailors, they sometimes put distinct commanders over each of these; who again have others under them, according to their different divisions; all of which join together to make one military body: and thus much for this department. since some of the magistrates, if not all, have business with the public money, it is necessary that there should be other officers, whose employment should be nothing else than to take an account of what they have, and correct any mismanagement therein. but besides all these magistrates there is one who is supreme over them all, who very often has in his own power the disposal of the public revenue and taxes; who presides over the people when the supreme power is in them; for there must be some magistrate who has a power to summon them together, and to preside as head of the state. these are sometimes called preadvisers; but where there are many, more properly a council. these are nearly the civil magistrates which are requisite to a government: but there are other persons whose business is confined to religion; as the priests, and those who are to take care of the temples, that they are kept in proper repair, or, if they fall down, that they may be rebuilt; and whatever else belongs to public worship. this charge is sometimes entrusted to one person, as in very small cities: in others it is delegated to many, and these distinct from the priesthood, as the builders or keepers of holy places, and officers of the sacred revenue. next to these are those who are appointed to have the general care of all those public sacrifices to the tutelar god of the state, which the laws do not entrust to the priests: and these in different states have different appellations. to enumerate in few words the different departments of all those magistrates who are necessary: these are either religion, war, taxes, expenditures, markets, public buildings, harbours, highways. belonging to the courts of justice there are scribes to enroll private contracts; and there must also be guards set over the prisoners, others to see the law is executed, council on either side, and also others to watch over the conduct of those who are to decide the causes. amongst the magistrates also may finally be reckoned those who are to give their advice in public affairs. but separate states, who are peculiarly happy and have leisure to attend to more minute particulars, and are very attentive to good order, require particular magistrates for themselves; such as those who have the government of the women; who are to see the laws are executed; who take care of the boys and preside over their education. to these may be added those who have the care of their gymnastic exercises, [ a] their theatres, and every other public spectacle which there may happen to be. some of these, however, are not of general use; as the governors of the women: for the poor are obliged to employ their wives and children in servile offices for want of slaves. as there are three magistrates to whom some states entrust the supreme power; namely, guardians of the laws, preadvisers, and senators; guardians of the laws suit best to an aristocracy, preadvisers to an oligarchy, and a senate to a democracy. and thus much briefly concerning all magistrates. book vii chapter i he who proposes to make that inquiry which is necessary concerning what government is best, ought first to determine what manner of living is most eligible; for while this remains uncertain it will also be equally uncertain what government is best: for, provided no unexpected accidents interfere, it is highly probable, that those who enjoy the best government will live the most happily according to their circumstances; he ought, therefore, first to know what manner of life is most desirable for all; and afterwards whether this life is the same to the man and the citizen, or different. as i imagine that i have already sufficiently shown what sort of life is best in my popular discourses on that subject, i think i may very properly repeat the same here; as most certainly no one ever called in question the propriety of one of the divisions; namely, that as what is good, relative to man, may be divided into three sorts, what is external, what appertains to the body, and what to the soul, it is evident that all these must conspire to make a man happy: for no one would say that a man was happy who had no fortitude, no temperance, no justice, no prudence; but was afraid of the flies that flew round him: nor would abstain from the meanest theft if he was either hungry or dry, or would murder his dearest friend for a farthing; and also was in every particular as wanting in his understanding as an infant or an idiot. these truths are so evident that all must agree to them; though some may dispute about the quantity and the degree: for they may think, that a very little virtue is sufficient for happiness; but for riches, property, power, honour, and all such things, they endeavour to increase them without bounds: but to such we reply, that it is easy to prove from what experience teaches us in these cases, that these external goods produce not virtue, but virtue them. as to a happy life, whether it is to be found in pleasure or virtue or both, certain it is, that those whose morals are most pure, and whose understandings are best cultivated, will enjoy more of it, although their fortune is but moderate than those do who own an exuberance of wealth, are deficient in those; and this utility any one who reflects may easily convince himself of; for whatsoever is external has its boundary, as a machine, and whatsoever is useful in its excess is either necessarily hurtful, or at best useless to the possessor; but every good quality of the soul the higher it is in degree, so much the more useful it is, if it is permitted on this subject to use the word useful as well as noble. it is also very evident, that the accidents of each subject take place of each other, as the subjects themselves, of which we allow they are accidents, differ from each other in value; so that if the soul is more noble than any outward possession, as the body, both in itself and with respect to us, it must be admitted of course that the best accidents of each must follow the same analogy. besides, it is for the sake of the soul that these things are desirable; and it is on this account that wise men should desire them, not the soul for them. let us therefore be well assured, that every one enjoys as much happiness as he possesses virtue and wisdom, and acts according to their dictates; since for this we have the example of god himself, _who is completely happy, not from any external good, but in himself, and because such is his nature_. for good fortune is something different from happiness, as every good which depends not on the mind is owing to chance or fortune; but it is not from fortune that any one is wise and just: hence it follows, that that city is happiest which is the best and acts best: for no one can do well who acts not well; nor can the deeds either of man or city be praiseworthy without virtue and wisdom; for whatsoever is just, or wise, or prudent in a man, the same things are just, wise, and prudent in a city. thus much by way of introduction; for i could not but just touch upon this subject, though i could not go through a complete investigation of it, as it properly belongs to another question: let us at present suppose so much, that a man's happiest life, both as an individual and as a citizen, is a life of virtue, accompanied with those enjoyments which virtue usually procures. if [ a] there are any who are not convinced by what i have said, their doubts shall be answered hereafter, at present we shall proceed according to our intended method. chapter ii it now remains for us to say whether the happiness of any individual man and the city is the same or different: but this also is evident; for whosoever supposes that riches will make a person happy, must place the happiness of the city in riches if it possesses them; those who prefer a life which enjoys a tyrannic power over others will also think, that the city which has many others under its command is most happy: thus also if any one approves a man for his virtue, he will think the most worthy city the happiest: but here there are two particulars which require consideration, one of which is, whether it is the most eligible life to be a member of the community and enjoy the rights of a citizen, or whether to live as a stranger, without interfering in public affairs; and also what form of government is to be preferred, and what disposition of the state is best; whether the whole community should be eligible to a share in the administration, or only the greater part, and some only: as this, therefore, is a subject of political examination and speculation, and not what concerns the individual, and the first of these is what we are at present engaged in, the one of these i am not obliged to speak to, the other is the proper business of my present design. it is evident that government must be the best which is so established, that every one therein may have it in his power to act virtuously and live happily: but some, who admit that a life of virtue is most eligible, still doubt which is preferable a public life of active virtue, or one entirely disengaged from what is without and spent in contemplation; which some say is the only one worthy of a philosopher; and one of these two different modes of life both now and formerly seem to have been chosen by all those who were the most virtuous men; i mean the public or philosophic. and yet it is of no little consequence on which side the truth lies; for a man of sense must naturally incline to the better choice; both as an individual and a citizen. some think that a tyrannic government over those near us is the greatest injustice; but that a political one is not unjust: but that still is a restraint on the pleasures and tranquillity of life. others hold the quite contrary opinion, and think that a public and active life is the only life for man: for that private persons have no opportunity of practising any one virtue, more than they have who are engaged in public life the management of the [ b] state. these are their sentiments; others say, that a tyrannical and despotical mode of government is the only happy one; for even amongst some free states the object of their laws seems to be to tyrannise over their neighbours: so that the generality of political institutions, wheresoever dispersed, if they have any one common object in view, have all of them this, to conquer and govern. it is evident, both from the laws of the lacedaemonians and cretans, as well as by the manner in which they educated their children, that all which they had in view was to make them soldiers: besides, among all nations, those who have power enough and reduce others to servitude are honoured on that account; as were the scythians, persians, thracians, and gauls: with some there are laws to heighten the virtue of courage; thus they tell us that at carthage they allowed every person to wear as many rings for distinction as he had served campaigns. there was also a law in macedonia, that a man who had not himself killed an enemy should be obliged to wear a halter; among the scythians, at a festival, none were permitted to drink out of the cup was carried about who had not done the same thing. among the iberians, a warlike nation, they fixed as many columns upon a man's tomb as he had slain enemies: and among different nations different things of this sort prevail, some of them established by law, others by custom. probably it may seem too absurd to those who are willing to take this subject into their consideration to inquire whether it is the business of a legislator to be able to point out by what means a state may govern and tyrannise over its neighbours, whether they will, or will not: for how can that belong either to the politician or legislator which is unlawful? for that cannot be lawful which is done not only justly, but unjustly also: for a conquest may be unjustly made. but we see nothing of this in the arts: for it is the business neither of the physician nor the pilot to use either persuasion or force, the one to his patients, the other to his passengers: and yet many seem to think a despotic government is a political one, and what they would not allow to be just or proper, if exercised over themselves, they will not blush to exercise over others; for they endeavour to be wisely governed themselves, but think it of no consequence whether others are so or not: but a despotic power is absurd, except only where nature has framed the one party for dominion, the other for subordination; and therefore no one ought to assume it over all in general, but those only which are the proper objects thereof: thus no one should hunt men either for food or sacrifice, but what is fit for those purposes, and these are wild animals which are eatable. now a city which is well governed might be very [ a] happy in itself while it enjoyed a good system of laws, although it should happen to be so situated as to have no connection with any other state, though its constitution should not be framed for war or conquest; for it would then have no occasion for these. it is evident therefore that the business of war is to be considered as commendable, not as a final end, but as the means of procuring it. it is the duty of a good legislator to examine carefully into his state; and the nature of the people, and how they may partake of every intercourse, of a good life, and of the happiness which results from it: and in this respect some laws and customs differ from others. it is also the duty of a legislator, if he has any neighbouring states to consider in what manner he shall oppose each of them, or what good offices he shall show them. but what should be the final end of the best governments will be considered hereafter. chapter iii we will now speak to those who, while they agree that a life of virtue is most eligible, yet differ in the use of it addressing ourselves to both these parties; for there are some who disapprove of all political governments, and think that the life of one who is really free is different from the life of a citizen, and of all others most eligible: others again think that the citizen is the best; and that it is impossible for him who does nothing to be well employed; but that virtuous activity and happiness are the same thing. now both parties in some particulars say what is right, in others what is wrong, thus, that the life of a freeman is better than the life of a slave is true, for a slave, as a slave, is employed in nothing honourable; for the common servile employments which he is commanded to perform have nothing virtuous in them; but, on the other hand, it is not true that a submission to all sorts of governments is slavery; for the government of freemen differs not more from the government of slaves than slavery and freedom differ from each other in their nature; and how they do has been already mentioned. to prefer doing of nothing to virtuous activity is also wrong, for happiness consists in action, and many noble ends are produced by the actions of the just and wise. from what we have already determined on this subject, some one probably may think, that supreme power is of all things best, as that will enable a man to command very many useful services from others; so that he who can obtain this ought not to give it up to another, but rather to seize it: and, for this purpose, the father should have no attention or regard for the son, or the son for the father, or friend for friend; for what is best is most eligible: but to be a member of the community and be in felicity is best. what these persons advance might probably be true, if the supreme good was certainly theirs who plunder and use violence to others: but it is [ b] most unlikely that it should be so; for it is a mere supposition: for it does not follow that their actions are honourable who thus assume the supreme power over others, without they were by nature as superior to them as a man to a woman, a father to a child, a master to a slave: so that he who so far forsakes the paths of virtue can never return back from whence he departed from them: for amongst equals whatever is fair and just ought to be reciprocal; for this is equal and right; but that equals should not partake of what is equal, or like to like, is contrary to nature: but whatever is contrary to nature is not right; therefore, if there is any one superior to the rest of the community in virtue and abilities for active life, him it is proper to follow, him it is right to obey, but the one alone will not do, but must be joined to the other also: and, if we are right in what we have now said, it follows that happiness consists in virtuous activity, and that both with respect to the community as well as the individual an active life is the happiest: not that an active life must necessarily refer to other persons, as some think, or that those studies alone are practical which are pursued to teach others what to do; for those are much more so whose final object is in themselves, and to improve the judgment and understanding of the man; for virtuous activity has an end, therefore is something practical; nay, those who contrive the plan which others follow are more particularly said to act, and are superior to the workmen who execute their designs. but it is not necessary that states which choose to have no intercourse with others should remain inactive; for the several members thereof may have mutual intercourse with each other; for there are many opportunities for this among the different citizens; the same thing is true of every individual: for, was it otherwise, neither could the deity nor the universe be perfect; to neither of whom can anything external separately exist. hence it is evident that that very same life which is happy for each individual is happy also for the state and every member of it. chapter iv as i have now finished what was introductory to this subject, and considered at large the nature of other states, it now remains that i should first say what ought to be the establishment of a city which one should form according to one's wish; for no good state can exist without a moderate proportion of what is necessary. many things therefore ought to be forethought of as desirable, but none of them such as are impossible: i mean relative to the number of citizens and the extent of the territory: for as other artificers, such as the weaver and the shipwright, ought to have such materials as are fit for their work, since so much the better they are, by so much [ a] superior will the work itself necessarily be; so also ought the legislator and politician endeavour to procure proper materials for the business they have in hand. now the first and principal instrument of the politician is the number of the people; he should therefore know how many, and what they naturally ought to be: in like manner the country, how large, and what it is. most persons think that it is necessary for a city to be large to be happy: but, should this be true, they cannot tell what is a large one and what a small one; for according to the multitude of the inhabitants they estimate the greatness of it; but they ought rather to consider its strength than its numbers; for a state has a certain object in view, and from the power which it has in itself of accomplishing it, its greatness ought to be estimated; as a person might say, that hippocrates was a greater physician, though not a greater man, than one that exceeded him in the size of his body: but if it was proper to determine the strength of the city from the number of the inhabitants, it should never be collected from the multitude in general who may happen to be in it; for in a city there must necessarily be many slaves, sojourners, and foreigners; but from those who are really part of the city and properly constitute its members; a multitude of these is indeed a proof of a large city, but in a state where a large number of mechanics inhabit, and but few soldiers, such a state cannot be great; for the greatness of the city, and the number of men in it, are not the same thing. this too is evident from fact, that it is very difficult, if not impossible, to govern properly a very numerous body of men; for of all the states which appear well governed we find not one where the rights of a citizen are open to an indiscriminate multitude. and this is also evident from the nature of the thing; for as law is a certain order, so good law is of course a certain good order: but too large a multitude are incapable of this, unless under the government of that divine power which comprehends the universe. not but that, as quantity and variety are usually essential to beauty, the perfection of a city consists in the largeness of it as far as that largeness is consistent with that order already mentioned: but still there is a determinate size to all cities, as well as everything else, whether animals, plants, or machines, for each of these, if they are neither too little nor too big, have their proper powers; but when they have not their due growth, or are badly constructed, as a ship a span long is not properly a ship, nor one of two furlongs length, but when it is of a fit size; for either from its smallness or from its largeness it may be quite useless: so is it with a city; one that is too small has not [ b] in itself the power of self-defence, but this is essential to a city: one that is too large is capable of self-defence in what is necessary; but then it is a nation and not a city: for it will be very difficult to accommodate a form of government to it: for who would choose to be the general of such an unwieldy multitude, or who could be their herald but a stentor? the first thing therefore necessary is, that a city should consist of such numbers as will be sufficient to enable the inhabitants to live happily in their political community: and it follows, that the more the inhabitants exceed that necessary number the greater will the city be: but this must not be, as we have already said, without bounds; but what is its proper limit experience will easily show, and this experience is to be collected from the actions both of the governors and the governed. now, as it belongs to the first to direct the inferior magistrates and to act as judges, it follows that they can neither determine causes with justice nor issue their orders with propriety without they know the characters of their fellow-citizens: so that whenever this happens not to be done in these two particulars, the state must of necessity be badly managed; for in both of them it is not right to determine too hastily and without proper knowledge, which must evidently be the case where the number of the citizens is too many: besides, it is more easy for strangers and sojourners to assume the rights of citizens, as they will easily escape detection in so great a multitude. it is evident, then, that the best boundary for a city is that wherein the numbers are the greatest possible, that they may be the better able to be sufficient in themselves, while at the same time they are not too large to be under the eye and government of the magistrates. and thus let us determine the extent of a city. chapter v what we have said concerning a city may nearly be applied to a country; for as to what soil it should be, every one evidently will commend it if it is such as is sufficient in itself to furnish what will make the inhabitants happy; for which purpose it must be able to supply them with all the necessaries of life; for it is the having these in plenty, without any want, which makes them content. as to its extent, it should be such as may enable the inhabitants to live at their ease with freedom and temperance. whether we have done right or wrong in fixing this limit to the territory shall be considered more minutely hereafter, when we come particularly to inquire into property, and what fortune is requisite for a man to live on, and how and in what manner they ought to employ it; for there are many doubts upon this question, while each party insists upon their own plan of life being carried to an excess, the one of severity, the other of indulgence. what the situation of the country should be it is not difficult to determine, in some particulars respecting that we ought to be advised by those who are skilful in military affairs. it should be difficult of access to an enemy, but easy to the inhabitants: and as we said, that the number of [ a] inhabitants ought to be such as can come under the eye of the magistrate, so should it be with the country; for then it is easily defended. as to the position of the city, if one could place it to one's wish, it is convenient to fix it on the seaside: with respect to the country, one situation which it ought to have has been already mentioned, namely, that it should be so placed as easily to give assistance to all places, and also to receive the necessaries of life from all parts, and also wood, or any other materials which may happen to be in the country. chapter vi but with respect to placing a city in the neighbourhood of the sea, there are some who have many doubts whether it is serviceable or hurtful to a well-regulated state; for they say, that the resort of persons brought up under a different system of government is disserviceable to the state, as well by impeding the laws as by their numbers; for a multitude of merchants must necessarily arise from their trafficking backward and forward upon the seas, which will hinder the well-governing of the city: but if this inconvenience should not arise, it is evident that it is better, both on account of safety and also for the easier acquisition of the necessaries of life, that both the city and the country should be near the sea; for it is necessary that those who are to sustain the attack of the enemy should be ready with their assistance both by land and by sea, and to oppose any inroad, both ways if possible but if not, at least where they are most powerful, which they may do while they possess both. a maritime situation is also useful for receiving from others what your own country will not produce, and exporting those necessaries of your own growth which are more than you have occasion for; but a city ought to traffic to supply its own wants, and not the wants of others; for those who themselves furnish an open market for every one, do it for the sake of gain; which it is not proper for a well-established state to do, neither should they encourage such a commerce. now, as we see that many places and cities have docks and harbours lying very convenient for the city, while those who frequent them have no communication with the citadel, and yet they are not too far off, but are surrounded by walls and such-like fortifications, it is evident, that if any good arises from such an intercourse the city will receive it, but if anything hurtful, it will be easy to restrain it by a law declaring and deputing whom the state will allow to have an intercourse with each other, and whom not. as to a naval power, it is by no means doubtful that it is necessary to have one to a certain degree; and this not only for the sake of the [ b] city itself, but also because it may be necessary to appear formidable to some of the neighbouring states, or to be able to assist them as well by sea as by land; but to know how great that force should be, the health of the state should be inquired into, and if that appears vigorous and enables her to take the lead of other communities, it is necessary that her force should correspond with her actions. as for that multitude of people which a maritime power creates, they are by no means necessary to a state, nor ought they to make a part of the citizens; for the mariners and infantry, who have the command, are freemen, and upon these depends a naval engagement: but when there are many servants and husbandmen, there they will always have a number of sailors, as we now see happens to some states, as in heraclea, where they man many triremes, though the extent of their city is much inferior to some others. and thus we determine concerning the country, the port, the city, the sea, and a maritime power: as to the number of the citizens, what that ought to be we have already said. chapter vii we now proceed to point out what natural disposition the members of the community ought to be of: but this any one will easily perceive who will cast his eye over the states of greece, of all others the most celebrated, and also the other different nations of this habitable world. those who live in cold countries, as the north of europe, are full of courage, but wanting in understanding and the arts: therefore they are very tenacious of their liberty; but, not being politicians, they cannot reduce their neighbours under their power: but the asiatics, whose understandings are quick, and who are conversant in the arts, are deficient in courage; and therefore are always conquered and the slaves of others: but the grecians, placed as it were between these two boundaries, so partake of them both as to be at the same time both courageous and sensible; for which reason greece continues free, and governed in the best manner possible, and capable of commanding the whole world, could they agree upon one system of policy. now this is the difference between the grecians and other nations, that the latter have but one of these qualities, whereas in the former they are both happily blended together. hence it is evident, that those persons ought to be both sensible and courageous who will readily obey a legislator, the object of whose laws is virtue. as to what some persons say, that the military must be mild and tender to those they know, but severe and cruel to those they know not, it is courage which [ a] makes any one lovely; for that is the faculty of the soul which we most admire: as a proof of this, our resentment rises higher against our friends and acquaintance than against those we know not: for which reason archilaus accusing his friends says very properly to himself, shall my friends insult me? the spirit of freedom and command also is what all inherit who are of this disposition for courage is commanding and invincible. it also is not right for any one to say, that you should be severe to those you know not; for this behaviour is proper for no one: nor are those who are of a noble disposition harsh in their manners, excepting only to the wicked; and when they are particularly so, it is, as has been already said, against their friends, when they think they have injured them; which is agreeable to reason: for when those who think they ought to receive a favour from any one do not receive it, beside the injury done them, they consider what they are deprived of: hence the saying, "cruel are the wars of brothers;" and this, "those who have greatly loved do greatly hate." and thus we have nearly determined how many the inhabitants of a city ought to be, and what their natural disposition, and also the country how large, and of what sort is necessary; i say nearly, because it is needless to endeavour at as great accuracy in those things which are the objects of the senses as in those which are inquired into by the understanding only. chapter viii as in natural bodies those things are not admitted to be parts of them without which the whole would not exist, so also it is evident that in a political state everything that is necessary thereunto is not to be considered as a part of it, nor any other community from whence one whole is made; for one thing ought to be common and the same to the community, whether they partake of it equally or unequally, as, for instance, food, land, or the like; but when one thing is for the benefit of one person, and another for the benefit of another, in this there is nothing like a community, excepting that one makes it and the other uses it; as, for instance, between any instrument employed in making any work, and the workmen, as there is nothing common between the house and the builder, but the art of the builder is employed on the house. thus property is necessary for states, but property is no part of the state, though many species of it have life; but a city is a community of equals, for the purpose of enjoying the best life possible: but the happiest life is the best which consists in the perfect practice of virtuous energies: as therefore some persons have great, others little or no opportunity of being employed in these, it is evident that this is the cause of the difference there is between the different cities and communities there are to be found; for while each of these endeavour to acquire what is best by various and different means, they give [ b] rise to different modes of living and different forms of government. we are now to consider what those things are without which a city cannot possibly exist; for what we call parts of the city must of necessity inhere in it: and this we shall plainly understand, if we know the number of things necessary to a city: first, the inhabitants must have food: secondly, arts, for many instruments are necessary in life: thirdly, arms, for it is necessary that the community should have an armed force within themselves, both to support their government against those of their own body who might refuse obedience to it, and also to defend it from those who might attempt to attack it from without: fourthly, a certain revenue, as well for the internal necessities of the state as for the business of war: fifthly, which is indeed the chief concern, a religious establishment: sixthly in order, but first of all in necessity, a court to determine both criminal and civil causes. these things are absolutely necessary, so to speak, in every state; for a city is a number of people not accidentally met together, but with a purpose of ensuring to themselves sufficient independency and self-protection; and if anything necessary for these purposes is wanting, it is impossible that in such a situation these ends can be obtained. it is necessary therefore that a city should be capable of acquiring all these things: for this purpose a proper number of husbandmen are necessary to procure food, also artificers and soldiers, and rich men, and priests and judges, to determine what is right and proper. chapter ix having determined thus far, it remains that we consider whether all these different employments shall be open to all; for it is possible to continue the same persons always husbandmen, artificers, judges, or counsellors; or shall we appoint different persons to each of those employments which we have already mentioned; or shall some of them be appropriated to particulars, and others of course common to all? but this does not take place in every state, for, as we have already said, it is possible that all may be common to all, or not, but only common to some; and this is the difference between one government and another: for in democracies the whole community partakes of everything, but in oligarchies it is different. since we are inquiring what is the best government possible, and it is admitted to be that in which the citizens are happy; and that, as we have already said, it is impossible to obtain happiness without virtue; it follows, that in the best-governed states, where the citizens are really men of intrinsic and not relative goodness, none of them should be permitted to exercise any mechanic employment or follow merchandise, as being ignoble and destructive to virtue; neither should they be husband-[ a] men, that they may be at leisure to improve in virtue and perform the duty they owe to the state. with respect to the employments of a soldier, a senator, and a judge, which are evidently necessary to the community, shall they be allotted to different persons, or shall the same person execute both? this question, too, is easily answered: for in some cases the same persons may execute them, in others they should be different, where the different employments require different abilities, as when courage is wanting for one, judgment for the other, there they should be allotted to different persons; but when it is evident, that it is impossible to oblige those who have arms in their hands, and can insist on their own terms, to be always under command; there these different employments should be trusted to one person; for those who have arms in their hands have it in their option whether they will or will not assume the supreme power: to these two (namely, those who have courage and judgment) the government must be entrusted; but not in the same manner, but as nature directs; what requires courage to the young, what requires judgment to the old; for with the young is courage, with the old is wisdom: thus each will be allotted the part they are fit for according to their different merits. it is also necessary that the landed property should belong to these men; for it is necessary that the citizens should be rich, and these are the men proper for citizens; for no mechanic ought to be admitted to the rights of a citizen, nor any other sort of people whose employment is not entirely noble, honourable, and virtuous; this is evident from the principle we at first set out with; for to be happy it is necessary to be virtuous; and no one should say that a city is happy while he considers only one part of its citizens, but for that purpose he ought to examine into all of them. it is evident, therefore, that the landed property should belong to these, though it may be necessary for them to have husbandmen, either slaves, barbarians, or servants. there remains of the different classes of the people whom we have enumerated, the priests, for these evidently compose a rank by themselves; for neither are they to be reckoned amongst the husbandmen nor the mechanics; for reverence to the gods is highly becoming every state: and since the citizens have been divided into orders, the military and the council, and it is proper to offer due worship to the gods, and since it is necessary that those who are employed in their service should have nothing else to do, let the business of the priesthood be allotted to those who are in years. we have now shown what is necessary to the existence of a city, and of what parts it consists, and that husbandmen, mechanic, and mercenary servants are necessary to a city; but that the parts of it are soldiers and sailors, and that these are always different from those, but from each other only occasionally. chapter x it seems neither now nor very lately to have been known [ b] to those philosophers who have made politics their study, that a city ought to be divided by families into different orders of men; and that the husbandmen and soldiers should be kept separate from each other; which custom is even to this day preserved in egypt and in crete; also sesostris having founded it in egypt, minos in crete. common meals seem also to have been an ancient regulation, and to have been established in crete during the reign of minos, and in a still more remote period in italy; for those who are the best judges in that country say that one italus being king of aenotria., from whom the people, changing their names, were called italians instead of aenotrians, and that part of europe was called italy which is bounded by the scylletic gulf on the one side and the lametic on the other, the distance between which is about half a day's journey. this italus, they relate, made the aenotrians, who were formerly shepherds, husbandmen, and gave them different laws from what they had before, and to have been the first who established common meals, for which reason some of his descendants still use them, and observe some of his laws. the opici inhabit that part which lies towards the tyrrhenian sea, who both now are and formerly were called ausonians. the chones inhabited the part toward iapigia and the ionian sea which is called syrtis. these chones were descended from the aenotrians. hence arose the custom of common meals, but the separation of the citizens into different families from egypt: for the reign of sesostris is of much higher antiquity than that of minos. as we ought to think that most other things were found out in a long, nay, even in a boundless time (reason teaching us that want would make us first invent that which was necessary, and, when that was obtained, then those things which were requisite for the conveniences and ornament of life), so should we conclude the same with respect to a political state; now everything in egypt bears the marks of the most remote antiquity, for these people seem to be the most ancient of all others, and to have acquired laws and political order; we should therefore make a proper use of what is told us of them, and endeavour to find out what they have omitted. we have already said, that the landed property ought to belong to the military and those who partake of the government of the state; and that therefore the husbandmen should be a separate order of people; and how large and of what nature the country ought to be: we will first treat of the division of the land, and of the husbandmen, how many and of what sort they ought to be; since we by no means hold that property ought to be common, as some persons have said, only thus far, in friendship, it [ a] should be their custom to let no citizen want subsistence. as to common meals, it is in general agreed that they are proper in well-regulated cities; my reasons for approving of them shall be mentioned hereafter: they are what all the citizens ought to partake of; but it will not be easy for the poor, out of what is their own, to furnish as much as they are ordered to do, and supply their own house besides. the expense also of religious worship should be defrayed by the whole state. of necessity therefore the land ought to be divided into two parts, one of which should belong to the community in general, the other to the individuals separately; and each of these parts should again be subdivided into two: half of that which belongs to the public should be appropriated to maintain the worship of the gods, the other half to support the common meals. half of that which belongs to the individuals should be at the extremity of the country, the other half near the city, so that these two portions being allotted to each person, all would partake of land in both places, which would be both equal and right; and induce them to act in concert with greater harmony in any war with their neighbours: for when the land is not divided in this manner, one party neglects the inroads of the enemy on the borders, the other makes it a matter of too much consequence and more than is necessary; for which reason in some places there is a law which forbids the inhabitants of the borders to have any vote in the council when they are debating upon a war which is made against them as their private interest might prevent their voting impartially. thus therefore the country ought to be divided and for the reasons before mentioned. could one have one's choice, the husbandmen should by all means be slaves, not of the same nation, or men of any spirit; for thus they would be laborious in their business, and safe from attempting any novelties: next to these barbarian servants are to be preferred, similar in natural disposition to these we have already mentioned. of these, let those who are to cultivate the private property of the individual belong to that individual, and those who are to cultivate the public territory belong to the public. in what manner these slaves ought to be used, and for what reason it is very proper that they should have the promise of their liberty made them, as a reward for their services, shall be mentioned hereafter. chapter xi we have already mentioned, that both the city and all the country should communicate both with the sea and the continent as much as possible. there are these four things which we should be particularly desirous of in the position of the city with respect to itself: in the first place, health is to be consulted as the first thing necessary: now a city which fronts the east and receives the winds which blow from thence is esteemed most healthful; next to this that which has a northern position is to be preferred, as best in winter. it should next be contrived that it may have a proper situation for the business of government and for defence in war: that in war the citizens may [ b] have easy access to it; but that it may be difficult of access to, and hardly to be taken by, the enemy. in the next place particularly, that there may be plenty of water, and rivers near at hand: but if those cannot be found, very large cisterns must be prepared to save rain-water, so that there may be no want of it in case they should be driven into the town in time of war. and as great care should be taken of the health of the inhabitants, the first thing to be attended to is, that the city should have a good situation and a good position; the second is, that they may have good water to drink; and this not be negligently taken care of; for what we chiefly and most frequently use for the support of the body must principally influence the health of it; and this influence is what the air and water naturally have: for which reason in all wise governments the waters ought to be appropriated to different purposes, and if they are not equally good, and if there is not a plenty of necessary water, that which is to drink should be separated from that which is for other uses. as to fortified places, what is proper for some governments is not proper for all; as, for instance, a lofty citadel is proper for a monarchy and an oligarchy; a city built upon a plain suits a democracy; neither of these for an aristocracy, but rather many strong places. as to the form of private houses, those are thought to be best and most useful for their different purposes which are distinct and separate from each other, and built in the modern manner, after the plan of hippodamus: but for safety in time of war, on the contrary, they should be built as they formerly were; for they were such that strangers could not easily find their way out of them, and the method of access to them such as an enemy could with difficulty find out if he proposed to besiege them. a city therefore should have both these sorts of buildings, which may easily be contrived if any one will so regulate them as the planters do their rows of vines; not that the buildings throughout the city should be detached from each other, only in some parts of it; thus elegance and safety will be equally consulted. with respect to walls, those who say that a courageous people ought not to have any, pay too much respect to obsolete notions; particularly as we may see those who pride themselves therein continually confuted by facts. it is indeed disreputable for those who are equal, or nearly so, to the enemy, to endeavour to take refuge within their walls--but since it very often happens, that those who make the attack are too powerful for the bravery and courage of those few who oppose them to resist, if you would not suffer the calamities of war and the insolence of the enemy, it must be thought the part of a good soldier to seek for safety under the shelter and protection of walls more especially since so many missile weapons and machines have been most ingeniously invented to besiege cities with. indeed to neglect surrounding a city with a wall would be similar to choosing a country which is easy of access to an enemy, or levelling the eminences of it; or as if an individual should not have a wall to his house lest it should be thought that the owner of it was a coward: nor should this be left unconsidered, that those who have a city surrounded with walls may act both ways, either as if it had or as if it had not; but where it has not they cannot do this. if this is true, it is not only necessary to have walls, but care must be taken that they may be a proper ornament to the city, as well as a defence in time of war; not only according to the old methods, but the modern improvements also: for as those who make offensive war endeavour by every way possible to gain advantages over their adversaries, so should those who are upon the defensive employ all the means already known, and such new ones as philosophy can invent, to defend themselves: for those who are well prepared are seldom first attacked. chapter xii as the citizens in general are to eat at public tables in certain companies, and it is necessary that the walls should have bulwarks and towers in proper places and at proper distances, it is evident that it will be very necessary to have some of these in the towers; let the buildings for this purpose be made the ornaments of the walls. as to temples for public worship, and the hall for the public tables of the chief magistrates, they ought to be built in proper places, and contiguous to each other, except those temples which the law or the oracle orders to be separate from all other buildings; and let these be in such a conspicuous eminence, that they may have every advantage of situation, and in the neighbourhood of that part of the city which is best fortified. adjoining to this place there ought to be a large square, like that which they call in thessaly the square of freedom, in which nothing is permitted to be bought or sold; into which no mechanic nor husbandman, nor any such person, should be permitted to enter, unless commanded by the magistrates. it will also be an ornament to this place if the gymnastic exercises of the elders are performed in it. it is also proper, that for performing these exercises the citizens should be divided into distinct classes, according to their ages, and that the young persons should have proper officers to be with them, and that the seniors should be with the magistrates; for having them before their eyes would greatly inspire true modesty and ingenuous fear. there ought to be another square [ b] separate from this for buying and selling, which should be so situated as to be commodious for the reception of goods both by sea and land. as the citizens may be divided into magistrates and priests, it is proper that the public tables of the priests should be in buildings near the temples. those of the magistrates who preside over contracts, indictments, and such-like, and also over the markets, and the public streets near the square, or some public way, i mean the square where things are bought and sold; for i intended the other for those who are at leisure, and this for necessary business. the same order which i have directed here should be observed also in the country; for there also their magistrates such as the surveyors of the woods and overseers of the grounds, must necessarily have their common tables and their towers, for the purpose of protection against an enemy. there ought also to be temples erected at proper places, both to the gods and the heroes; but it is unnecessary to dwell longer and most minutely on these particulars--for it is by no means difficult to plan these things, it is rather so to carry them into execution; for the theory is the child of our wishes, but the practical part must depend upon fortune; for which reason we shall decline saying anything farther upon these subjects. chapter xiii we will now show of what numbers and of what sort of people a government ought to consist, that the state may be happy and well administered. as there are two particulars on which the excellence and perfection of everything depend, one of these is, that the object and end proposed should be proper; the other, that the means to accomplish it should be adapted to that purpose; for it may happen that these may either agree or disagree with each other; for the end we propose may be good, but in taking the means to obtain it we may err; at other times we may have the right and proper means in our power, but the end may be bad, and sometimes we may mistake in both; as in the art of medicine the physician does not sometimes know in what situation the body ought to be, to be healthy; nor what to do to procure the end he aims at. in every art and science, therefore, we should be master of this knowledge, namely, the proper end, and the means to obtain it. now it is evident that all persons are desirous to live well and be happy; but that some have the means thereof in their own power, others not; and this either through nature [ a] or fortune; for many ingredients are necessary to a happy life; but fewer to those who are of a good than to those who are of a bad disposition. there are others who continually have the means of happiness in their own power, but do not rightly apply them. since we propose to inquire what government is best, namely, that by which a state may be best administered, and that state is best administered where the people are the happiest, it is evident that happiness is a thing we should not be unacquainted with. now, i have already said in my treatise on morals (if i may here make any use of what i have there shown), that happiness consists in the energy and perfect practice of virtue; and this not relatively, but simply; i mean by relatively, what is necessary in some certain circumstances; by simply, what is good and fair in itself: of the first sort are just punishments, and restraints in a just cause; for they arise from virtue and are necessary, and on that account are virtuous; though it is more desirable that neither any state nor any individual should stand in need of them; but those actions which are intended either to procure honour or wealth are simply good; the others eligible only to remove an evil; these, on the contrary, are the foundation and means of relative good. a worthy man indeed will bear poverty, disease, and other unfortunate accidents with a noble mind; but happiness consists in the contrary to these (now we have already determined in our treatise on morals, that he is a man of worth who considers what is good because it is virtuous as what is simply good; it is evident, therefore, that all the actions of such a one must be worthy and simply good): this has led some persons to conclude, that the cause of happiness was external goods; which would be as if any one should suppose that the playing well upon the lyre was owing to the instrument, and not to the art. it necessarily follows from what has been said, that some things should be ready at hand and others procured by the legislator; for which reason in founding a city we earnestly wish that there may be plenty of those things which are supposed to be under the dominion of fortune (for some things we admit her to be mistress over); but for a state to be worthy and great is not only the work of fortune but of knowledge and judgment also. but for a state to be worthy it is necessary that those citizens which are in the administration should be worthy also; but as in our city every citizen is to be so, we must consider how this may be accomplished; for if this is what every one could be, and not some individuals only, it would be more desirable; for then it would follow, that what might be done by one might be done by all. men are worthy and good three ways; by nature, by custom, by reason. in the first place, a man ought to be born a man, and not any other animal; that is to say, he ought to have both a body and soul; but it avails not to be only born [ b] with some things, for custom makes great alterations; for there are some things in nature capable of alteration either way which are fixed by custom, either for the better or the worse. now, other animals live chiefly a life of nature; and in very few things according to custom; but man lives according to reason also, which he alone is endowed with; wherefore he ought to make all these accord with each other; for if men followed reason, and were persuaded that it was best to obey her, they would act in many respects contrary to nature and custom. what men ought naturally to be, to make good members of a community, i have already determined; the rest of this discourse therefore shall be upon education; for some things are acquired by habit, others by hearing them. chapter xiv as every political community consists of those who govern and of those who are governed, let us consider whether during the continuance of their lives they ought to be the same persons or different; for it is evident that the mode of education should be adapted to this distinction. now, if one man differed from another as much, as we believe, the gods and heroes differ from men: in the first place, being far their superiors in body; and, secondly, in the soul: so that the superiority of the governors over the governed might be evident beyond a doubt, it is certain that it would be better for the one always to govern, the other always to be governed: but, as this is not easy to obtain, and kings are not so superior to those they govern as scylax informs us they are in india, it is evident that for many reasons it is necessary that all in their turns should both govern and be governed: for it is just that those who are equal should have everything alike; and it is difficult for a state to continue which is founded in injustice; for all those in the country who are desirous of innovation will apply themselves to those who are under the government of the rest, and such will be their numbers in the state, that it will be impossible for the magistrates to get the better of them. but that the governors ought to excel the governed is beyond a doubt; the legislator therefore ought to consider how this shall be, and how it may be contrived that all shall have their equal share in the administration. now, with respect to this it will be first said, that nature herself has directed us in our choice, laying down the selfsame thing when she has made some young, others old: the first of whom it becomes to obey, the latter to command; for no one when he is young is offended at his being under government, or thinks himself too good for it; more especially when he considers that he himself shall receive the same honours which he pays when he shall arrive at a proper age. in some respects it must be acknowledged that the governors and the governed are the same, in others they are different; it is therefore necessary that their education should be in [ a] some respect the same, in others different: as they say, that he will be a good governor who has first learnt to obey. now of governments, as we have already said, some are instituted for the sake of him who commands; others for him who obeys: of the first sort is that of the master over the servant; of the latter, that of freemen over each other. now some things which are commanded differ from others; not in the business, but in the end proposed thereby: for which reason many works, even of a servile nature, are not disgraceful for young freemen to perform; for many things which are ordered to be done are not honourable or dishonourable so much in their own nature as in the end which is proposed, and the reason for which they are undertaken. since then we have determined, that the virtue of a good citizen and good governor is the same as of a good man; and that every one before he commands should have first obeyed, it is the business of the legislator to consider how his citizens may be good men, what education is necessary to that purpose, and what is the final object of a good life. the soul of man may be divided into two parts; that which has reason in itself, and that which hath not, but is capable of obeying its dictates: and according to the virtues of these two parts a man is said to be good: but of those virtues which are the ends, it will not be difficult for those to determine who adopt the division i have already given; for the inferior is always for the sake of the superior; and this is equally evident both in the works of art as well as in those of nature; but that is superior which has reason. reason itself also is divided into two parts, in the manner we usually divide it; the theoretic and the practical; which division therefore seems necessary for this part also: the same analogy holds good with respect to actions; of which those which are of a superior nature ought always to be chosen by those who have it in their power; for that is always most eligible to every one which will procure the best ends. now life is divided into labour and rest, war and peace; and of what we do the objects are partly necessary and useful, partly noble: and we should give the same preference to these that we do to the different parts of the soul and its actions, as war to procure peace; labour, rest; and the useful, the noble. the politician, therefore, who composes a body of laws ought to extend his views to everything; the different parts of the soul and their actions; more particularly to those things which are of a superior nature and ends; and, in the same manner, to the lives of men and their different actions. they ought to be fitted both for labour and war, but rather [ b] for rest and peace; and also to do what is necessary and useful, but rather what is fair and noble. it is to those objects that the education of the children ought to tend, and of all the youths who want instruction. all the grecian states which now seem best governed, and the legislators who founded those states, appear not to have framed their polity with a view to the best end, or to every virtue, in their laws and education; but eagerly to have attended to what is useful and productive of gain: and nearly of the same opinion with these are some persons who have written lately, who, by praising the lacedaemonian state, show they approve of the intention of the legislator in making war and victory the end of his government. but how contrary to reason this is, is easily proved by argument, and has already been proved by facts (but as the generality of men desire to have an extensive command, that they may have everything desirable in the greater abundance; so thibron and others who have written on that state seem to approve of their legislator for having procured them an extensive command by continually enuring them to all sorts of dangers and hardships): for it is evident, since the lacedemonians have now no hope that the supreme power will be in their own hand, that neither are they happy nor was their legislator wise. this also is ridiculous, that while they preserved an obedience to their laws, and no one opposed their being governed by them, they lost the means of being honourable: but these people understand not rightly what sort of government it is which ought to reflect honour on the legislator; for a government of freemen is nobler than despotic power, and more consonant to virtue. moreover, neither should a city be thought happy, nor should a legislator be commended, because he has so trained the people as to conquer their neighbours; for in this there is a great inconvenience: since it is evident that upon this principle every citizen who can will endeavour to procure the supreme power in his own city; which crime the lacedaemonians accuse pausanias of, though he enjoyed such great honours. such reasoning and such laws are neither political, useful nor true: but a legislator ought to instil those laws on the minds of men which are most useful for them, both in their public and private capacities. the rendering a people fit for war, that they may enslave their inferiors ought not to be the care of the legislator; but that they may not themselves be reduced to slavery by others. in [ a] the next place, he should take care that the object of his government is the safety of those who are under it, and not a despotism over all: in the third place, that those only are slaves who are fit to be only so. reason indeed concurs with experience in showing that all the attention which the legislator pays to the business of war, and all other rules which he lays down, should have for their object rest and peace; since most of those states (which we usually see) are preserved by war; but, after they have acquired a supreme power over those around them, are ruined; for during peace, like a sword, they lose their brightness: the fault of which lies in the legislator, who never taught them how to be at rest. chapter xv as there is one end common to a man both as an individual and a citizen, it is evident that a good man and a good citizen must have the same object in view; it is evident that all the virtues which lead to rest are necessary; for, as we have often said, the end of war is peace, of labour, rest; but those virtues whose object is rest, and those also whose object is labour, are necessary for a liberal life and rest; for we want a supply of many necessary things that we may be at rest. a city therefore ought to be temperate, brave, and patient; for, according to the proverb, "rest is not for slaves;" but those who cannot bravely face danger are the slaves of those who attack them. bravery, therefore, and patience are necessary for labour, philosophy for rest, and temperance and justice in both; but these chiefly in time of peace and rest; for war obliges men to be just and temperate; but the enjoyment of pleasure, with the rest of peace, is more apt to produce insolence; those indeed who are easy in their circumstances, and enjoy everything that can make them happy, have great occasion for the virtues of temperance and justice. thus if there are, as the poets tell us, any inhabitants in the happy isles, to these a higher degree of philosophy, temperance, and justice will be necessary, as they live at their ease in the full plenty of every sensual pleasure. it is evident, therefore, that these virtues are necessary in every state that would be happy or worthy; for he who is worthless can never enjoy real good, much less is he qualified to be at rest; but can appear good only by labour and being at war, but in peace and at rest the meanest of creatures. for which reason virtue should not be cultivated as the lacedaemonians did; for they did not differ from others in their opinion concerning the supreme good, but in [ b] imagining this good was to be procured by a particular virtue; but since there are greater goods than those of war, it is evident that the enjoyment of those which are valuable in themselves should be desired, rather than those virtues which are useful in war; but how and by what means this is to be acquired is now to be considered. we have already assigned three causes on which it will depend; nature, custom, and reason, arid shown what sort of men nature must produce for this purpose; it remains then that we determine which we shall first begin by in education, reason or custom, for these ought always to preserve the most entire harmony with each other; for it may happen that reason may err from the end proposed, and be corrected by custom. in the first place, it is evident that in this as in other things, its beginning or production arises from some principle, and its end also arises from another principle, which is itself an end. now, with us, reason and intelligence are the end of nature; our production, therefore, and our manners ought to be accommodated to both these. in the next place, as the soul and the body are two distinct things, so also we see that the soul is divided into two parts, the reasoning and not-reasoning, with their habits which are two in number, one belonging to each, namely appetite and intelligence; and as the body is in production before the soul, so is the not-reasoning part of the soul before the reasoning; and this is evident; for anger, will and desire are to be seen in children nearly as soon as they are born; but reason and intelligence spring up as they grow to maturity. the body, therefore, necessarily demands our care before the soul; next the appetites for the sake of the mind; the body for the sake of the soul. chapter xvi if then the legislator ought to take care that the bodies of the children are as perfect as possible, his first attention ought to be given to matrimony; at what time and in what situation it is proper that the citizens should engage in the nuptial contract. now, with respect to this alliance, the legislator ought both to consider the parties and their time of life, that they may grow old at the same part of time, and that their bodily powers may not be different; that is to say, the man being able to have children, but the woman too old to bear them; or, on the contrary, the woman be young enough to produce children, but the man too old to be a father; for from such a situation discords and disputes continually arise. in the next place, with respect to the succession of children, there ought not to be too great an interval of time between them and their parents; for when there is, the parent can receive no benefit from his child's affection, or the child any advantage from his father's protection; [ a] neither should the difference in years be too little, as great inconveniences may arise from it; as it prevents that proper reverence being shown to a father by a boy who considers him as nearly his equal in age, and also from the disputes it occasions in the economy of the family. but, to return from this digression, care ought to be taken that the bodies of the children may be such as will answer the expectations of the legislator; this also will be affected by the same means. since season for the production of children is determined (not exactly, but to speak in general), namely, for the man till seventy years, and the woman till fifty, the entering into the marriage state, as far as time is concerned, should be regulated by these periods. it is extremely bad for the children when the father is too young; for in all animals whatsoever the parts of the young are imperfect, and are more likely to be productive of females than males, and diminutive also in size; the same thing of course necessarily holds true in men; as a proof of this you may see in those cities where the men and women usually marry very young, the people in general are very small and ill framed; in child-birth also the women suffer more, and many of them die. and thus some persons tell us the oracle of traezenium should be explained, as if it referred to the many women who were destroyed by too early marriages, and not their gathering their fruits too soon. it is also conducive to temperance not to marry too soon; for women who do so are apt to be intemperate. it also prevents the bodies of men from acquiring their full size if they marry before their growth is completed; for this is the determinate period, which prevents any further increase; for which reason the proper time for a woman to marry is eighteen, for a man thirty-seven, a little more or less; for when they marry at that time their bodies are in perfection, and they will also cease to have children at a proper time; and moreover with respect to the succession of the children, if they have them at the time which may reasonably be expected, they will be just arriving into perfection when their parents are sinking down under the load of seventy years. and thus much for the time which is proper for marriage; but moreover a proper season of the year should be observed, as many persons do now, and appropriate the winter for this business. the married couple ought also to regard the precepts of physicians and naturalists, each of whom have treated on these [ b] subjects. what is the fit disposition of the body will be better mentioned when we come to speak of the education of the child; we will just slightly mention a few particulars. now, there is no occasion that any one should have the habit of body of a wrestler to be either a good citizen, or to enjoy a good constitution, or to be the father of healthy children; neither should he be infirm or too much dispirited by misfortunes, but between both these. he ought to have a habit of labour, but not of too violent labour; nor should that be confined to one object only, as the wrestler's is; but to such things as are proper for freemen. these things are equally necessary both for men and women. women with child should also take care that their diet is not too sparing, and that they use sufficient exercise; which it will be easy for the legislator to effect if he commands them once every day to repair to the worship of the gods who are supposed to preside over matrimony. but, contrary to what is proper for the body, the mind ought to be kept as tranquil as possible; for as plants partake of the nature of the soil, so does the child receive much of the disposition of the mother. with respect to the exposing or bringing up of children, let it be a law, that nothing imperfect or maimed shall be brought up,.......... as the proper time has been pointed out for a man and a woman to enter into the marriage state, so also let us determine how long it is advantageous for the community that they should have children; for as the children of those who are too young are imperfect both in body and mind, so also those whose parents are too old are weak in both: while therefore the body continues in perfection, which (as some poets say, who reckon the different periods of life by sevens) is till fifty years, or four or five more, the children may be equally perfect; but when the parents are past that age it is better they should have no more. with respect to any connection between a man and a woman, or a woman and a man, when either of the parties are betrothed, let it be held in utter detestation [ a] on any pretext whatsoever; but should any one be guilty of such a thing after the marriage is consummated, let his infamy be as great as his guilt deserves. chapter xvii when a child is born it must be supposed that the strength of its body will depend greatly upon the quality of its food. now whoever will examine into the nature of animals, and also observe those people who are very desirous their children should acquire a warlike habit, will find that they feed them chiefly with milk, as being best accommodated to their bodies, but without wine, to prevent any distempers: those motions also which are natural to their age are very serviceable; and to prevent any of their limbs from being crooked, on account of their extreme ductility, some people even now use particular machines that their bodies may not be distorted. it is also useful to enure them to the cold when they are very little; for this is very serviceable for their health; and also to enure them to the business of war; for which reason it is customary with many of the barbarians to dip their children in rivers when the water is cold; with others to clothe them very slightly, as among the celts; for whatever it is possible to accustom children to, it is best to accustom them to it at first, but to do it by degrees: besides, boys have naturally a habit of loving the cold, on account of the heat. these, then, and such-like things ought to be the first object of our attention: the next age to this continues till the child is five years old; during which time it is best to teach him nothing at all, not even necessary labour, lest it should hinder his growth; but he should be accustomed to use so much motion as not to acquire a lazy habit of body; which he will get by various means and by play also: his play also ought to be neither illiberal nor too laborious nor lazy. their governors and preceptors also should take care what sort of tales and stories it may be proper for them to hear; for all these ought to pave the way for their future instruction: for which reason the generality of their play should be imitations of what they are afterwards to do seriously. they too do wrong who forbid by laws the disputes between boys and their quarrels, for they contribute to increase their growth--as they are a sort of exercise to the body: for the struggles of the heart and the compression of the spirits give strength to those who labour, which happens to boys in their disputes. the preceptors also ought to have an eye upon their manner of life, and those with whom they converse; and to take care that they are never in the company of slaves. at this time and till they are seven [ b] years old it is necessary that they should be educated at home. it is also very proper to banish, both from their hearing and sight, everything which is illiberal and the like. indeed it is as much the business of the legislator as anything else, to banish every indecent expression out of the state: for from a permission to speak whatever is shameful, very quickly arises the doing it, and this particularly with young people: for which reason let them never speak nor hear any such thing: but if it appears that any freeman has done or said anything that is forbidden before he is of age to be thought fit to partake of the common meals, let him be punished by disgrace and stripes; but if a person above that age does so, let him be treated as you would a slave, on account of his being infamous. since we forbid his speaking everything which is forbidden, it is necessary that he neither sees obscene stories nor pictures; the magistrates therefore are to take care that there are no statues or pictures of anything of this nature, except only to those gods to whom the law permits them, and to which the law allows persons of a certain age to pay their devotions, for themselves, their wives, and children. it should also be illegal for young persons to be present either at iambics or comedies before they are arrived at that age when they are allowed to partake of the pleasures of the table: indeed a good education will preserve them from all the evils which attend on these things. we have at present just touched upon this subject; it will be our business hereafter, when we properly come to it, to determine whether this care of children is unnecessary, or, if necessary, in what manner it must be done; at present we have only mentioned it as necessary. probably the saying of theodoras, the tragic actor, was not a bad one: that he would permit no one, not even the meanest actor, to go upon the stage before him, that he might first engage the ear of the audience. the same thing happens both in our connections with men and things: what we meet with first pleases best; for which reason children should be kept strangers to everything which is bad, more particularly whatsoever is loose and offensive to good manners. when five years are accomplished, the two next may be very properly employed in being spectators of those exercises they will afterwards have to learn. there are two periods into which education ought to be divided, according to the age of the child; the one is from his being seven years of age to the time of puberty; the other from thence till he is one-and-twenty: for those who divide ages by the number seven [ a] are in general wrong: it is much better to follow the division of nature; for every art and every instruction is intended to complete what nature has left defective: we must first consider if any regulation whatsoever is requisite for children; in the next place, if it is advantageous to make it a common care, or that every one should act therein as he pleases, which is the general practice in most cities; in the third place, what it ought to be. book viii chapter i no one can doubt that the magistrate ought greatly to interest himself in the care of youth; for where it is neglected it is hurtful to the city, for every state ought to be governed according to its particular nature; for the form and manners of each government are peculiar to itself; and these, as they originally established it, so they usually still preserve it. for instance, democratic forms and manners a democracy; oligarchic, an oligarchy: but, universally, the best manners produce the best government. besides, as in every business and art there are some things which men are to learn first and be made accustomed to, which are necessary to perform their several works; so it is evident that the same thing is necessary in the practice of virtue. as there is one end in view in every city, it is evident that education ought to be one and the same in each; and that this should be a common care, and not the individual's, as it now is, when every one takes care of his own children separately; and their instructions are particular also, each person teaching them as they please; but what ought to be engaged in ought to be common to all. besides, no one ought to think that any citizen belongs to him in particular, but to the state in general; for each one is a part of the state, and it is the natural duty of each part to regard the good of the whole: and for this the lacedaemonians may be praised; for they give the greatest attention to education, and make it public. it is evident, then, that there should be laws concerning education, and that it should be public. chapter ii what education is, and how children ought to be instructed, is what should be well known; for there are doubts concerning the business of it, as all people do not agree in those things they would have a child taught, both with respect to their improvement in virtue and a happy life: nor is it clear whether the object of it should be to improve the reason or rectify the morals. from the present mode of education we cannot determine with certainty to which men incline, whether to instruct a child in what will be useful to him in life; or what tends to virtue, and what is excellent: for all these things have their separate defenders. as to virtue, there is no particular [ b] in which they all agree: for as all do not equally esteem all virtues, it reasonably follows that they will not cultivate the same. it is evident that what is necessary ought to be taught to all: but that which is necessary for one is not necessary for all; for there ought to be a distinction between the employment of a freeman and a slave. the first of these should be taught everything useful which will not make those who know it mean. every work is to be esteemed mean, and every art and every discipline which renders the body, the mind, or the understanding of freemen unfit for the habit and practice of virtue: for which reason all those arts which tend to deform the body are called mean, and all those employments which are exercised for gain; for they take off from the freedom of the mind and render it sordid. there are also some liberal arts which are not improper for freemen to apply to in a certain degree; but to endeavour to acquire a perfect skill in them is exposed to the faults i have just mentioned; for there is a great deal of difference in the reason for which any one does or learns anything: for it is not illiberal to engage in it for one's self, one's friend, or in the cause of virtue; while, at the same time, to do it for the sake of another may seem to be acting the part of a servant and a slave. the mode of instruction which now prevails seems to partake of both parts. chapter iii there are four things which it is usual to teach children--reading, gymnastic exercises, and music, to which (in the fourth place) some add painting. reading and painting are both of them of singular use in life, and gymnastic exercises, as productive of courage. as to music, some persons may doubt, as most persons now use it for the sake of pleasure: but those who originally made it part of education did it because, as has been already said, nature requires that we should not only be properly employed, but to be able to enjoy leisure honourably: for this (to repeat what i have already said) is of all things the principal. but, though both labour and rest are necessary, yet the latter is preferable to the first; and by all means we ought to learn what we should do when at rest: for we ought not to employ that time at play; for then play would be the necessary business of our lives. but if this cannot be, play is more necessary for those who labour than those who are at rest: for he who labours requires relaxation; which play will supply: for as labour is attended with pain and continued exertion, it is necessary that play should be introduced, under proper regulations, as a medicine: for such an employment of the mind is a relaxation to it, and eases with pleasure. [ a] now rest itself seems to partake of pleasure, of happiness, and an agreeable life: but this cannot be theirs who labour, but theirs who are at rest; for he who labours, labours for the sake of some end which he has not: but happiness is an end which all persons think is attended with pleasure and not with pain: but all persons do not agree in making this pleasure consist in the same thing; for each one has his particular standard, correspondent to his own habits; but the best man proposes the best pleasure, and that which arises from the noblest actions. but it is evident, that to live a life of rest there are some things which a man must learn and be instructed in; and that the object of this learning and this instruction centres in their acquisition: but the learning and instruction which is given for labour has for its object other things; for which reason the ancients made music a part of education; not as a thing necessary, for it is not of that nature, nor as a thing useful, as reading, in the common course of life, or for managing of a family, or for learning anything as useful in public life. painting also seems useful to enable a man to judge more accurately of the productions of the finer arts: nor is it like the gymnastic exercises, which contribute to health and strength; for neither of these things do we see produced by music; there remains for it then to be the employment of our rest, which they had in view who introduced it; and, thinking it a proper employment for freemen, to them they allotted it; as homer sings: "how right to call thalia to the feast:" and of some others he says: "the bard was call'd, to ravish every ear:" and, in another place, he makes ulysses say the happiest part of man's life is "when at the festal board, in order plac'd, they hear the song." it is evident, then, that there is a certain education in which a child may be instructed, not as useful nor as necessary, but as noble and liberal: but whether this is one or more than one, and of what sort they are, and how to be taught, shall be considered hereafter: we are now got so far on our way as to show that we have the testimony of the ancients in our favour, by what they have delivered down upon education--for music makes this plain. moreover, it is necessary to instruct children in what is useful, not only on account of its being useful in itself, as, for instance, to learn to read, but also as the means of acquiring other different sorts of instruction: thus they should be instructed in painting, not only to prevent their being mistaken in purchasing pictures, or in buying or selling of vases, but rather as it makes [ b] them judges of the beauties of the human form; for to be always hunting after the profitable ill agrees with great and freeborn souls. as it is evident whether a boy should be first taught morals or reasoning, and whether his body or his understanding should be first cultivated, it is plain that boys should be first put under the care of the different masters of the gymnastic arts, both to form their bodies and teach them their exercises. chapter iv now those states which seem to take the greatest care of their children's education, bestow their chief attention on wrestling, though it both prevents the increase of the body and hurts the form of it. this fault the lacedaemonians did not fall into, for they made their children fierce by painful labour, as chiefly useful to inspire them with courage: though, as we have already often said, this is neither the only thing nor the principal thing necessary to attend to; and even with respect to this they may not thus attain their end; for we do not find either in other animals, or other nations, that courage necessarily attends the most cruel, but rather the milder, and those who have the dispositions of lions: for there are many people who are eager both to kill men and to devour human flesh, as the achaeans and heniochi in pontus, and many others in asia, some of whom are as bad, others worse than these, who indeed live by tyranny, but are men of no courage. nay, we know that the lacedaemonians themselves, while they continued those painful labours, and were superior to all others (though now they are inferior to many, both in war and gymnastic exercises), did not acquire their superiority by training their youth to these exercises, but because those who were disciplined opposed those who were not disciplined at all. what is fair and honourable ought then to take place in education of what is fierce and cruel: for it is not a wolf, nor any other wild beast, which will brave any noble danger, but rather a good man. so that those who permit boys to engage too earnestly in these exercises, while they do not take care to instruct them in what is necessary to do, to speak the real truth, render them mean and vile, accomplished only in one duty of a citizen, and in every other respect, as reason evinces, good for nothing. nor should we form our judgments from past events, but from what we see at present: for now they have rivals in their mode of education, whereas formerly they had not. that gymnastic exercises are useful, and in what manner, is admitted; for during youth it is very proper to go through a course of those which are most gentle, omitting that violent diet and those painful exercises which are prescribed as necessary; that they may not prevent the growth of the body: and it is no small proof that they have this effect, that amongst the olympic candidates we can scarce find two or three who have gained a victory both when boys and men: because the necessary exercises they went through when young deprived them of their strength. when they have allotted three years from the time of puberty to other parts of education, they are then of a proper age to submit to labour and a regulated diet; for it is impossible for the mind and body both to labour at the same time, as they are productive of contrary evils to each other; the labour of the body preventing the progress of the mind, and the mind of the body. chapter v with respect to music we have already spoken a little in a doubtful manner upon this subject. it will be proper to go over again more particularly what we then said, which may serve as an introduction to what any other person may choose to offer thereon; for it is no easy matter to distinctly point out what power it has, nor on what accounts one should apply it, whether as an amusement and refreshment, as sleep or wine; as these are nothing serious, but pleasing, and the killers of care, as euripides says; for which reason they class in the same order and use for the same purpose all these, namely, sleep, wine, and music, to which some add dancing; or shall we rather suppose that music tends to be productive of virtue, having a power, as the gymnastic exercises have to form the body in a certain way, to influence the manners so as to accustom its professors to rejoice rightly? or shall we say, that it is of any service in the conduct of life, and an assistant to prudence? for this also is a third property which has been attributed to it. now that boys are not to be instructed in it as play is evident; for those who learn don't play, for to learn is rather troublesome; neither is it proper to permit boys at their age to enjoy perfect leisure; for to cease to improve is by no means fit for what is as yet imperfect; but it may be thought that the earnest attention of boys in this art is for the sake of that amusement they will enjoy when they come to be men and completely formed; but, if this is the case, why are they themselves to learn it, and not follow the practice of the kings of the medes and persians, who enjoy the pleasure of music by hearing others play, and being shown its beauties by them; for of necessity those must be better skilled therein who make this science their particular study and business, than those who have only spent so much time at it as was sufficient just to learn the principles of it. but if this is a reason for a child's being taught anything, they ought also to learn the art of cookery, but this is absurd. the same doubt occurs if music has a power of improving the manners; for why should they on this account themselves learn it, and not reap every advantage of regulating the passions or forming a judgment [ b] on the merits of the performance by hearing others, as the lacedaemonians; for they, without having ever learnt music, are yet able to judge accurately what is good and what is bad; the same reasoning may be applied if music is supposed to be the amusement of those who live an elegant and easy life, why should they learn themselves, and not rather enjoy the benefit of others' skill. let us here consider what is our belief of the immortal gods in this particular. now we find the poets never represent jupiter himself as singing and playing; nay, we ourselves treat the professors of these arts as mean people, and say that no one would practise them but a drunkard or a buffoon. but probably we may consider this subject more at large hereafter. the first question is, whether music is or is not to make a part of education? and of those three things which have been assigned as its proper employment, which is the right? is it to instruct, to amuse, or to employ the vacant hours of those who live at rest? or may not all three be properly allotted to it? for it appears to partake of them all; for play is necessary for relaxation, and relaxation pleasant, as it is a medicine for that uneasiness which arises from labour. it is admitted also that a happy life must be an honourable one, and a pleasant one too, since happiness consists in both these; and we all agree that music is one of the most pleasing things, whether alone or accompanied with a voice; as musseus says, "music's the sweetest joy of man;" for which reason it is justly admitted into every company and every happy life, as having the power of inspiring joy. so that from this any one may suppose that it is necessary to instruct young persons in it; for all those pleasures which are harmless are not only conducive to the final end of life, but serve also as relaxations; and, as men are but rarely in the attainment of that final end, they often cease from their labour and apply to amusement, with no further view than to acquire the pleasure attending it. it is therefore useful to enjoy such pleasures as these. there are some persons who make play and amusement their end, and probably that end has some pleasure annexed to it, but not what should be; but while men seek the one they accept the other for it; because there is some likeness in human actions to the end; for the end is pursued for the sake of nothing else that attends it; but for itself only; and pleasures like these are sought for, not on account of what follows them, but on account of what has gone before them, as labour and grief; for which reason they seek for happiness in these sort of pleasures; and that this is the reason any one may easily perceive. that music should be pursued, not on this account only, but also as it is very serviceable during the hours of relaxation from labour, probably no [ a] one doubts; we should also inquire whether besides this use it may not also have another of nobler nature--and we ought not only to partake of the common pleasure arising from it (which all have the sensation of, for music naturally gives pleasure, therefore the use of it is agreeable to all ages and all dispositions); but also to examine if it tends anything to improve our manners and our souls. and this will be easily known if we feel our dispositions any way influenced thereby; and that they are so is evident from many other instances, as well as the music at the olympic games; and this confessedly fills the soul with enthusiasm; but enthusiasm is an affection of the soul which strongly agitates the disposition. besides, all those who hear any imitations sympathise therewith; and this when they are conveyed even without rhythm or verse. moreover, as music is one of those things which are pleasant, and as virtue itself consists in rightly enjoying, loving, and hating, it is evident that we ought not to learn or accustom ourselves to anything so much as to judge right and rejoice in honourable manners and noble actions. but anger and mildness, courage and modesty, and their contraries, as well as all other dispositions of the mind, are most naturally imitated by music and poetry; which is plain by experience, for when we hear these our very soul is altered; and he who is affected either with joy or grief by the imitation of any objects, is in very nearly the same situation as if he was affected by the objects themselves; thus, if any person is pleased with seeing a statue of any one on no other account but its beauty, it is evident that the sight of the original from whence it was taken would also be pleasing; now it happens in the other senses there is no imitation of manners; that is to say, in the touch and the taste; in the objects of sight, a very little; for these are merely representations of things, and the perceptions which they excite are in a manner common to all. besides, statues and paintings are not properly imitations of manners, but rather signs and marks which show the body is affected by some passion. however, the difference is not great, yet young men ought not to view the paintings of pauso, but of polygnotus, or any other painter or statuary who expresses manners. but in poetry and music there are imitations of manners; and this is evident, for different harmonies differ from each other so much by nature, that those who hear them are differently affected, and are not in the same disposition of mind when one is performed as when another is; the one, for instance, occasions grief and contracts the soul, as the mixed lydian: others soften the mind, and as it were dissolve the heart: others fix it in a firm and settled state, such is the power of the doric music only; while the phrygian fills the soul with enthusiasm, as has been well described by those who have written philosophically upon this part of education; for they bring examples of what they advance from the things themselves. the same holds true with respect to rhythm; some fix the disposition, others occasion a change in it; some act more violently, others more liberally. from what has been said it is evident what an influence music has over the disposition of the mind, and how variously it can fascinate it: and if it can do this, most certainly it is what youth ought to be instructed in. and indeed the learning of music is particularly adapted to their disposition; for at their time of life they do not willingly attend to anything which is not agreeable; but music is naturally one of the most agreeable things; and there seems to be a certain connection between harmony and rhythm; for which reason some wise men held the soul itself to be harmony; others, that it contains it. chapter vi we will now determine whether it is proper that children should be taught to sing, and play upon any instrument, which we have before made a matter of doubt. now, it is well known that it makes a great deal of difference when you would qualify any one in any art, for the person himself to learn the practical part of it; for it is a thing very difficult, if not impossible, for a man to be a good judge of what he himself cannot do. it is also very necessary that children should have some employment which will amuse them; for which reason the rattle of archytas seems well contrived, which they give children to play with, to prevent their breaking those things which are about the house; for at their age they cannot sit still: this therefore is well adapted to infants, as instruction ought to be their rattle as they grow up; hence it is evident that they should be so taught music as to be able to practise it. nor is it difficult to say what is becoming or unbecoming of their age, or to answer the objections which some make to this employment as mean and low. in the first place, it is necessary for them to practise, that they may be judges of the art: for which reason this should be done when they are young; but when they are grown older the practical part may be dropped; while they will still continue judges of what is excellent in the art, and take a proper pleasure therein, from the knowledge they acquired of it in their youth. as to the censure which some persons throw upon music, as something mean and low, it is not difficult to answer that, if we will but consider how far we propose those who are to be educated so as to become good citizens should be instructed in this art, [ a] and what music and what rhythms they should be acquainted with; and also what instruments they should play upon; for in these there is probably a difference. such then is the proper answer to that censure: for it must be admitted, that in some cases nothing can prevent music being attended, to a certain degree, with the bad effects which are ascribed to it; it is therefore clear that the learning of it should never prevent the business of riper years; nor render the body effeminate, and unfit for the business of war or the state; but it should be practised by the young, judged of by the old. that children may learn music properly, it is necessary that they should not be employed in those parts of it which are the objects of dispute between the masters in that science; nor should they perform such pieces as are wondered at from the difficulty of their execution; and which, from being first exhibited in the public games, are now become a part of education; but let them learn so much of it as to be able to receive proper pleasure from excellent music and rhythms; and not that only which music must make all animals feel, and also slaves and boys, but more. it is therefore plain what instruments they should use; thus, they should never be taught to play upon the flute, or any other instrument which requires great skill, as the harp or the like, but on such as will make them good judges of music, or any other instruction: besides, the flute is not a moral instrument, but rather one that will inflame the passions, and is therefore rather to be used when the soul is to be animated than when instruction is intended. let me add also, that there is something therein which is quite contrary to what education requires; as the player on the flute is prevented from speaking: for which reason our forefathers very properly forbade the use of it to youth and freemen, though they themselves at first used it; for when their riches procured them greater leisure, they grew more animated in the cause of virtue; and both before and after the median war their noble actions so exalted their minds that they attended to every part of education; selecting no one in particular, but endeavouring to collect the whole: for which reason they introduced the flute also, as one of the instruments they were to learn to play on. at lacedaemon the choregus himself played on the flute; and it was so common at athens that almost every freeman understood it, as is evident from the tablet which thrasippus dedicated when he was choregus; but afterwards they rejected it as dangerous; having become better judges of what tended to promote virtue and what did not. for the same reason many of the ancient instruments were thrown aside, as the dulcimer and the lyre; as also those which were to inspire those who played on them with pleasure, and which required a nice finger and great skill to play well on. what the ancients tell us, by way of fable, of the flute is indeed very rational; namely, that after minerva had found it, she threw it away: nor are they wrong who say that the goddess disliked it for deforming the face of him who played thereon: not but that it is more probable that she rejected it as the knowledge thereof contributed nothing to the improvement of the mind. now, we regard minerva as the inventress of arts and sciences. as we disapprove of a child's being taught to understand instruments, and to play like a master (which we would have confined to those who are candidates for the prize in that science; for they play not to improve themselves in virtue, but to please those who hear them, and gratify their importunity); therefore we think the practice of it unfit for freemen; but then it should be confined to those who are paid for doing it; for it usually gives people sordid notions, for the end they have in view is bad: for the impertinent spectator is accustomed to make them change their music; so that the artists who attend to him regulate their bodies according to his motions. chapter vii we are now to enter into an inquiry concerning harmony and rhythm; whether all sorts of these are to be employed in education, or whether some peculiar ones are to be selected; and also whether we should give the same directions to those who are engaged in music as part of education, or whether there is something different from these two. now, as all music consists in melody and rhythm, we ought not to be unacquainted with the power which each of these has in education; and whether we should rather choose music in which melody prevails, or rhythm: but when i consider how many things have been well written upon these subjects, not only by some musicians of the present age, but also by some philosophers who are perfectly skilled in that part of music which belongs to education; we will refer those who desire a very particular knowledge therein to those writers, and shall only treat of it in general terms, without descending to particulars. melody is divided by some philosophers, whose notions we approve of, into moral, practical, and that which fills the mind with enthusiasm: they also allot to each of these a particular kind of harmony which naturally corresponds therewith: and we say that music should not be applied to one purpose only, but many; both for instruction and purifying the soul (now i use the word purifying at present without any explanation, but shall speak more at large of it in my poetics); and, in the third place, as an agreeable manner of spending the time and a relaxation from the uneasiness of the mind. [ a] it is evident that all harmonies are to be used; but not for all purposes; but the most moral in education: but to please the ear, when others play, the most active and enthusiastic; for that passion which is to be found very strong in some souls is to be met with also in all; but the difference in different persons consists in its being in a less or greater degree, as pity, fear, and enthusiasm also; which latter is so powerful in some as to overpower the soul: and yet we see those persons, by the application of sacred music to soothe their mind, rendered as sedate and composed as if they had employed the art of the physician: and this must necessarily happen to the compassionate, the fearful, and all those who are subdued by their passions: nay, all persons, as far as they are affected with those passions, admit of the same cure, and are restored to tranquillity with pleasure. in the same manner, all music which has the power of purifying the soul affords a harmless pleasure to man. such, therefore, should be the harmony and such the music which those who contend with each other in the theatre should exhibit: but as the audience is composed of two sorts of people, the free and the well-instructed, the rude the mean mechanics, and hired servants, and a long collection of the like, there must be some music and some spectacles to please and soothe them; for as their minds are as it were perverted from their natural habits, so also is there an unnatural harmony, and overcharged music which is accommodated to their taste: but what is according to nature gives pleasure to every one, therefore those who are to contend upon the theatre should be allowed to use this species of music. but in education ethic melody and ethic harmony should be used, which is the doric, as we have already said, or any other which those philosophers who are skilful in that music which is to be employed in education shall approve of. but socrates, in plato's republic, is very wrong when he [ b] permits only the phrygian music to be used as well as the doric, particularly as amongst other instruments he banishes the flute; for the phrygian music has the same power in harmony as the flute has amongst the instruments; for they are both pathetic and raise the mind: and this the practice of the poets proves; for in their bacchanal songs, or whenever they describe any violent emotions of the mind, the flute is the instrument they chiefly use: and the phrygian harmony is most suitable to these subjects. now, that the dithyrambic measure is phrygian is allowed by general consent; and those who are conversant in studies of this sort bring many proofs of it; as, for instance, when philoxenus endeavoured to compose dithyrambic music for doric harmony, he naturally fell back again into phrygian, as being fittest for that purpose; as every one indeed agrees, that the doric music is most serious, and fittest to inspire courage: and, as we always commend the middle as being between the two extremes, and the doric has this relation with respect to other harmonies, it is evident that is what the youth ought to be instructed in. there are two things to be taken into consideration, both what is possible and what is proper; every one then should chiefly endeavour to attain those things which contain both these qualities: but this is to be regulated by different times of life; for instance, it is not easy for those who are advanced in years to sing such pieces of music as require very high notes, for nature points out to them those which are gentle and require little strength of voice (for which reason some who are skilful in music justly find fault with socrates for forbidding the youth to be instructed in gentle harmony; as if, like wine, it would make them drunk, whereas the effect of that is to render men bacchanals, and not make them languid): these therefore are what should employ those who are grown old. moreover, if there is any harmony which is proper for a child's age, as being at the same time elegant and instructive, as the lydian of all others seems chiefly to be-these then are as it were the three boundaries of education, moderation, possibility, and decorum. index achilles, act of the city, what, actions, their original spring, i administration, ; whether to be shared by the whole community, aesumnetes, aethiopia, in what manner the power of the state is there regulated, alterations in government, whence they arise, ; what they are, ambractia, the government of, changed, andromadas reginus, a lawgiver to the thracian calcidians, animals, their different provisions by nature, ; intended by nature for the benefit of man, ; what constitutes their different species, animals, tame, why better than wild, arbitrator and judge, their difference, architas his rattle, areopagus, senate of, argonauts refuse to take hercules with them, aristocracies, causes of commotions in them, ; chief cause of their alteration, ; may degenerate into an oligarchy, aristocracy, what, ; treated of, ; its object, art, works of, which most excellent, artificers and slaves, their difference, assemblies, public, advantageous to a democracy, assembly, public, its proper business, athens, different dispositions of the citizens of, barter, its original, being, what the nature of every one is, beings, why some command, others obey, body by nature to be governed, ; requires our care before the soul, calchis, the government of, changed, calcidians, carthaginian government described, census in a free state should be as extensive as possible, ; how to be altered, charondas supposed to be the scholar of zaleucus, child, how to be managed when first born, ; should be taught nothing till he is five years old, ; how then to be educated, children, the proper government of, ; what their proper virtues, ; what they are usually taught, cities, how governed at first, ; what, ; the work of nature, ; prior in contemplation to a family, or an individual, citizen, who is one? , ; should know both how to command and obey, citizens must have some things in common, ; should be exempted from servile labour, ; privileges different in different governments, ; if illegally made, whether illegal, ; who admitted to be, ; in the best states ought not to follow merchandise, city, may be too much one, , ; what, , ; when it continues the same, ; for whose sake established, ; its end, ; of what parts made up, ; best composed of equals, city of the best form, what its establishment ought to be, ; wherein its greatness consists, ; may be either too large or too small, ; what should be its situation, ; whether proper near the sea, ; ought to be divided by families into different sorts of men, city and confederacy, their difference, ; wherein it should be one, command amongst equals should be in rotation, common meals not well established at lacedaemon-well at crete, ; the model from whence the lacedaemonian was taken, ; inferior to it in some respects, community, its recommendations deceitful, ; into what people it may be divided, community of children, , ; inconveniences attending it, community of goods, its inconveniences, ; destructive of modesty and liberality, community of wives, its inconveniences, contempt a cause of sedition, courage of a man different from a woman's, courts, how many there ought to be, courts of justice should be few in a small state, cretan customs similar to the lacedasmonian, ; assembly open to every citizen, cretans, their power, ; their public meals, how conducted crete, the government of, ; description of the island of customs at carthage, lacedaemon, and amongst the scythians and iberians, concerning those who had killed an enemy, , dadalus's statues, . delphos, an account of a sedition there, demagogues, their influence in a democracy, . democracies, arose out of tyrannies, ; whence they arose, ; when changed into tyrannies, ; their different sorts, , ; general rules for their establishment, ; should not be made too perfect, democracy, what, , ; its definition, , ; different sorts of, , ; its object, ; how subverted in the isle of cos, democracy and aristocracy, how they may be blended together, democratical state, its foundation, despotic power absurd, dion, his noble resolution, dionysius, his taxes, dissolution of kingdoms and tyrannies, domestic employments of men and women different, domestic government, its object, domestic society the first, draco, dyrrachium, government of, economy and money-getting, difference, education necessary for the happiness of the city, ; of all things most necessary to preserve the state, ; what it ought to be, ; the objects of it, , ; should be taken care of by the magistrate, and correspond to the nature of government, ; should be a common care, and regulated by laws, employment, one to be allotted to one person in an extensive government, employments in the state, how to be disposed of, - ; whether all should be open to all, ephialtes abridges the power of the senate of areopagus, ephori, at sparta, their power too great, ; improperly chosen, ; flattered by their kings, ; the supreme judges, ; manner of life too indulgent, epidamnus, an account of a revolution there, equality, how twofold, ; in a democracy, how to be procured, euripides quoted, family government, of what it consists, father should not be too young, females and slaves, wherein they differ, ; why upon a level amongst barbarians, forfeitures, how to be applied, fortune improper pretension for power, freemen in general, what power they ought to have, free state treated of, ; how it arises out of a democracy and oligarchy, , friendship weakened by a community of children, general, the office of, how to be disposed of, gods, why supposed subject to kingly government, good, relative to man, how divided, good and evil, the perception of, necessary to form a family and a city, good fortune something different from happiness, government should continue as much as possible in the same hands, ; in what manner it should be in rotation, ; what, ; which best, of a good man or good laws, ; good, to what it should owe its preservation, ; what the best, government of the master over the slave sometimes reciprocally useful, ii governments, how different from each other, ; whether more than one form should be established, ; should endeavour to prevent others from being too powerful-- instances of it, ; how compared to music, in; in general, to what they owe their preservation, governments, political, regal, family, and servile, their difference from each other, i governors and governed, whether their virtues are the same or different, ; whether they should be the same persons or different, grecians, their superiority over other people, guards of a king natives, , ; of a tyrant foreigners, , gymnastic exercises, when to be performed, ; how far they should be made a part of education, , happiness, wherein it consists, happy life, where most likely to be found, harmony, whether all kinds of it are to be used in education, helots troublesome to the lacedaemonians, herdsmen compose the second-best democracy, hippodamus, an account of, ; his plan of government, , : objected to, , homer quoted, , honours, an inequality of, occasions seditions, horse most suitable to an oligarchy, houses, private, their best form, human flesh devoured by some nations, husbandmen compose the best democracy, ; will choose to govern according to law, husbandry, art of, whether part of money-getting, instruments, their difference from each other, ; wherein they differ from possessions, italy, its ancient boundary, jason's declaration, judge should not act as an arbitrator, , ; which is best for an individual, or the people in general, , judges, many better than one, ; of whom to consist, ; how many different sorts are necessary, judicial part of government, how to be divided, jurymen, particular powers sometimes appointed to that office, justice, what, ; the course of, impeded in crete, ; different in different situations, king, from whom to be chosen ; the guardian of his people king's children, what to be done with, king's power, what it should be ; when unequal, kingdom, what, kingdoms, their object, ; how bestowed, ; causes of their dissolution, ; how preserved, kingly government in the heroic times, what, kingly power regulated by the laws at sparta in peace, ; absolute in war, kings formerly in crete, ; their power afterwards devolved to the kosmoi, ; method of electing them at carthage, knowledge of the master and slave different from each other, ii kosmoi, the power of, ; their number, ; wherein inferior to the ephori, ; allowed to resign their office before their time is elapsed, lacedamonian customs similar to the cretan, lacedaemonian government much esteemed, ; the faults of it, - ; calculated only for war, ; how composed of a democracy and oligarchy, lacedaemonian revenue badly raised, , lacedaemonians, wherein they admit things to be common, land should be divided into two parts, law makes one man a slave, another free, ; whether just or not, ; at thebes respecting tradesmen, ; nothing should be done contrary to it, law and government, their difference, , laws, when advantageous to alter them, , , ; of every state will be like the state, ; whom they should be calculated for, ; decide better than men, ; moral preferable to written, ; must sometimes bend to ancient customs, ; should be framed to the state, ; the same suit not all governments, legislator ought to know not only what is best, but what is practical, n legislators should fix a proper medium in property, liberty, wherein it partly consists, , life, happy, owing to a course of virtue, ; how divided, locrians forbid men to sell their property, lycophron's account of law, lycurgus gave over reducing the women to obedience, ; made it infamous for any one to sell his possessions, ; some of his laws censured, ; spent much time at crete, ; supposed to be the scholar of thales, lysander wanted to abolish the kingly power in sparta, magistrate, to whom that name is properly given, magistrates, when they make the state incline to an oligarchy, ; when to an aristocracy, ; at athens, from whom to be chosen, ; to determine those causes which the law cannot be applied to, ; whether their power is to be the same, or different in different communities, ; how they differ from each other, ; in those who appoint them, ; should be continued but a short time in democracies, ; how to be chosen in a democracy, ; different sorts and employments, making and using, their difference, malienses, their form of government, man proved to be a political animal, ; has alone a perception of good and evil, ; without law and justice the worst of beings, master, power of, whence it arises, as some think, matrimony, when to be engaged in, meals, common, established in crete and italy, ; expense of, should be defrayed by the whole state, mechanic employments useful for citizens, mechanics, whether they should be allowed to be citizens, , ; cannot acquire the practice of virtue, ; admitted to be citizens in an oligarchy, medium of circumstances best, members of the community, their different pretences to the employments of the state, ; what natural dispositions they ought to be of, men, some distinguished by nature for governors, others to be governed, ; their different modes of living, ; worthy three ways, merchandise, three different ways of carrying it on, middle rank of men make the best citizens, ; most conducive to the preservation of the state, ; should be particularly attended to by the legislators, military, how divided, mitylene, an account of a dispute there, monarch, absolute, monarchies, their nature, , ; sometimes elective, ; sometimes hereditary, ; whence they sometimes arise, ; causes of corruption in them, ; how preserved, money, how it made its way into commerce, ; first weighed, ; afterwards stamped, ; its value dependent on agreement, ; how gained by exchange, money--getting considered at large, , monopolising gainful, ; sometimes practised by cities, monopoly of iron in sicily, a remarkable instance of the profit of it, music, how many species of it, in; why a part of education, ; how far it should be taught, , ; professors of it considered as mean people, ; imitates the disposition of the mind, ; improves our manners, ; lydian, softens the mind, ; pieces of, difficult in their execution, not to be taught to children, nature requires equality amongst equals, naval power should be regulated by the strength of the city, necessary parts of a city, what, nobles, the difference between them, no; should take care of the poor, oath, an improper one in an oligarchy, officers of state, who they ought to be, ; how long to continue, ; who to choose them, offices, distinction between them, ; when subversive of the rights of the people, offspring, an instance of the likeness of, to the sire, oligarchies arise where the strength of the state consists in horse, no; whence they arose, oligarchy admits not hired servants to be citizens, ; its object, ; what, , ; its definition, ; different sorts of, , ; its object, ; how it ought to be founded, onomacritus supposed to have drawn up laws, ostracism, why established, , ; its power, ; a weapon in the hand of sedition, painting, why it should be made a part of education, particulars, five, in which the rights of the people will be undermined, pausanias wanted to abolish the ephori, people, how they should be made one, ; of athens assume upon their victory over the medes, ; what best to submit to a kingly government, ; to an aristocratic, ; to a free state, ; should be allowed the power of pardoning, not of condemning, periander's advice to thrasy-bulus, , pericles introduces the paying of those who attended the court of justice, philolaus, a theban legislator, quits his native country, phocea, an account of a dispute there, physician, his business, physicians, their mode of practice in egypt, ; when ill consult others, pittacus, plato censured, poor excused from bearing arms and from gymnastic exercises in an oligarchy, ; paid for attending the public assemblies in a democracy, power of the master, its object, power, supreme, where it ought to be lodged, ; why with the many, , powers of a state, different methods of delegating them to the citizens, - preadvisers, court of, priesthood, to whom to be allotted, prisoners of war, whether they may be justly made slaves, private property not regulated the source of sedition, ; phaleas would have it equal, ; how phaleas would correct the irregularities of it, ; plato would allow a certain difference in it, property, its nature, ; how it should be regulated, , ; the advantages of having it private, ; what quantity the public ought to have, ; ought not to be common, public assemblies, when subversive of the liberties of the people, public money, how to be divided, qualifications necessary for those who are to fill the first departments in government, quality of a city, what meant by it, quantity, rest and peace the proper objects of the legislator, revolutions in a democracy, whence they arise, ; in an oligarchy, rich fined in an oligarchy for not bearing arms and attending the gymnastic exercises, ; receive nothing for attending the public assemblies in a democracy, rights of a citizen, whether advantageous or not, seditions sometimes prevented by equality, ; their causes, - ; how to be prevented, senate suits a democracy, shepherds compose the second-best democracy, slave, his nature and use, ; a chattel, ; by law, how, slavery not founded in nature but law, as some think, slaves, an inquiry into the virtues they are capable of, ; difficult to manage properly, ; their different sorts, society necessary to man, society, civil, the greatest blessing to man, ; different from a commercial intercourse, socrates, his mistakes on government, book ii. passim; his division of the inhabitants, ; would have the women go to war, ; aristotle's opinion of his discourses, ; his city would require a country of immeasurable extent, ; his comparison of the human species to different kinds of metals, ; his account of the different orders of men in a city imperfect, sojourners, their situation, solon's opinion of riches, ; law for restraining property, ; alters the athenian government, soul by nature the governor over the body, and in what manner, ; of man how divided, , speech a proof that man was formed for society, state, each, consists of a great number of parts, ; its disproportionate increase the cause of revolutions, ; firm, what, stealing, how to be prevented, submission to government, when it is slavery, supreme power should be ultimately vested in the laws, syracuse, the government of, languid, temperance in a man different from a woman, temples, how to be built, thales, his contrivance to get money, ; supposed to be the companion of onomacritus, things necessary to be known for the management of domestic affairs, , ; necessary in the position of a city, tribunals, what different things they should have under their jurisdictions, tyrannies, how established, ; how preserved, , ; of short duration, ; instances thereof, tyranny, what, ; not natural, ; whence it arises, ; treated of, ; contains all that is bad in all governments, tyrant, from whom usually chosen, ; his object, ; his guards, tyrants, many of them originally enjoyed only kingly power, ; the causes of their being conspired against, , ; always love the worst of men, uses of possessions, two, usury detested, venality to be guarded against, ids village, what, virtue of a citizen has reference to the state, ; different in different governments, virtues different in different persons, , ; whether the same constitute a good man and a valuable citizen, walls necessary for a city, war, what is gained by it in some degree a natural acquisition, ; not a final end, , wife, the proper government of, women, what their proper virtue, ; not to be indulged in improper liberties, ; had great influence at lacedaemon, ; of great disservice to the lacedemonians, ; why indulged by them, ; their proper time of marrying, ; how to be managed when with child, zaleucus, legislator of the western locrians, ; supposed to be the scholar of thales,